#and the moment they got some power they took violent revenge on the people who hurt them

[waitineedaname]

tbh it is incredible how compelling bingge and shen jiu are considering they're characters who ceased to exist as soon as the novel began

[vaultofcobaltandjade]

Man, as controversial as it is, I love love love thinking about Ashton's anger/rage/disdain towards the gods. Mainly because, as anarchist punk as it comes off, it also reads so clearly to me as an orphan's anger.

The anger of "My parents abandoned me" (doesn't matter if it was voluntary or not, their fault or not), so

"Wtf gives you gods the right to call yourselves our Father and Mother, to call us your children? Wtf makes you think you can do better than the parents who abandoned me to die?"

and

"Wtf gives you the right to have that inherent power over us? Just the fact that you created us, like actual parents? Wtf gives you the right to punish us and lord over us for eternity and pick favorites out of your children to reward and spare while others suffer cruelty?"

and

"You abandoned us too. You never answered my or my friends' prayers growing up. You've barely helped my current group. You didn't save FCG, even when he begged for it in his final moments."

and

"Why tf should I trust you all? (My first source of trust and safety in this world was cruelly ripped away from me.) Wtf have you ever done to gain my trust or respect or loyalty or faith?"

and

"Why tf shouldn't I hate you all who claim to be my creators, when half of you already hate my very existence as a mortal and the other half likely hate me for embodying a remnant of your past enemy (the original people of this planet that you completely killed off after arriving here)? When you and your followers destroy anyone who might oppose you?"

and

"Why tf would I want to be 'adopted' into your family of faith, when all I've seen is how fucked up it is? When you would toss us 'children' away for your siblings in a second?"

and

"You know, I realized how much unnecessary, unconscious power I was giving my parents, even in their absence and abandonment, and I reclaimed that power and took responsibility for myself. So why tf do you all still get to hold that same power over me, power that's impossible to escape?"

I mean, if my very first memory was of my parents dying violently in front of me and then a priest of some untouchable deity came around to my orphanage with the message of "Feel the Mother's Embrace" or "Feel the Father's light," I might also be cynical and resentful of anyone claiming that they're my creator and will take care of me forever. As much as I also love, say, Percy's story of revenge and redemption and forgiveness over his family's deaths and Fjord's story of finding father figures and a divine Mother figure to make peace with, there's something so resonant for me about Ashton holding onto their rage over that first cruel tragedy, as misdirected (or not, we don't know if the gods could've intervened before or during the fatal ritual) that it may be. It's messy and ultimately unhealthy and not easy to hear or think about, but so is being orphaned.

Now, obviously, I see this as a case of "actions speak louder than words" here. Disregarding Ludinus and his whole BS, I seriously doubt Ashton would even try to carve their own independent path towards the gods' downfall or banishment unless there was a way of doing it without casualty. I'm sure he's very aware of the stakes and mortal lives that could be lost, and if not, he's got the Hells to remind him. But not taking action doesn't just magically erase the anger, and not talking about the anger to anyone just tends to make things worse.

[the-white-soul]

You can't tell me humans haven't taken more than 7 lives for as long as they roamed the earth. That puts it into perspective. Even then, I should clarify one of those humans wasn't killed even by monsters. Your child. Chara killed themself. Chara killed themself because they hated humans. They're "violent, selfish, and ignorant" creatures. That's what Chara said. I know not all humans are like that because my three best friends are humans. But whatever the heck you and the people around Chara did to them, you sure as hell made them think that way! So they killed themself specifically so the monster you killed could take their soul and get revenge.

So that monster holding their body you killed? If he really was violent, he would and could have wiped out EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU without a second thought. *Flowey glares at the town in front of him with hate. With hate for them, and with hate for Asriel.* You saw what really happened. He didn't do anything even as you tortured him, even though it was your own human child's wishes against their own race. Isn't that pathetic? *Flowey laughs weakly to himself, and his expression softens. He glances at Toriel for a moment before averting his eyes again immediately.*

I know none of you believe me.

...

Just listen to the others, okay?

*Flowey burrows away. (he'll be back with something next ask so don't end the speech too soon after Clover's response.)*

(Random Person 1) "You know, screw you all. I'm with the monsters. You all should go to hell. We are hate. Chara died by their hand."

(Mom) "There's no proof to that. What's your name anyway."

(Random Person 1) "My name is John, and I was in the same class as Chara. I know you are all just saying that because you can't take accountability. We all know the real reason Chara left. I saw how they looked when they got anything below 90%. Those excuses you bring, try to make an excuse for a whip across the face!!!"

(Mom) "Liar!"

(John) "I say we don't dishonor these monsters who's with me!!!"

Dead silence for 4 seconds

(Mom) "I just realized the evil flower has all the police."

(Toriel) "Please, I'm not worth it. I should've listened to Asgore."

Kara walked up

(Kara) "Everyone calm down for a moment. I have a few words. I know Chara meant a lot to some of you, but I must ask, when did the war start?"

(Mom) "It was all when two kids were playing tag. One kid was running and accidentally got stabbed by some pointy rocks and died. The monster then absorbed the soul and made a powerful being that could do anything. It took a while, but we killed them. You've got to remember the real reason we do this isn't just for Chara or Clover. They're just people wrapped in this. If one monster, for any reason, wants to kill a human, succeeds, and becomes evil, there's no stopping it. That's what we're afraid of. There are only a million monsters. Millions don't matter to me when there are billions at stake. We thought we could trap you underground, but we can't. We'll have to kill you instead. Say your final words and get out of here."

(Kara) "I will let Buttercup speak after me. Ahem You all have no way to deal with your lives. After you want to kill monsters, who's next? Violence will come one day to all that are different. Why do we do it, though? Look at Toriel. She's just a Mom. She doesn't mean to harm anyone who doesn't wrong her. Papyrus is one of the best guys I've ever met. He will become friends with everyone. We can't all say that monsters are different than humans. They have goals and more love than most others. The truth is, we all are the same. Some of us are terrible, others are good. It's not right that Chara hated humanity. People are born, and they live. That's it. One day, I want to walk up to a child and a monster sitting on the sidewalk, eating ice cream and telling stories. For those two to be friends just like Asriel and Chara were. Think of all the lonely kids who you could help make friends. If I can see the day that monster and human kids love each other, that'll be enough for me."

[decadentpandawasteland]

Here is the next part of my Revenge Series! I'm interested to see what people have to say about it, as this part begins to open up the magic system within the world. So, if you have any questions or are curious how specific things will work, please feel free to ask! I hope you enjoy it and, as always, thanks for reading. :)

---------------------------------------------------

It's…his… blood…,” Ragnar said through shuddering breaths. Nicolas was looming over him and all Ragnar could think of was that he was now under the headsman’s ax. Nicolas took a minute to process that piece of information and was frustrated. Why doesn't anyone ever give him a straight answer? He was stonewalled when he used reason and here he was, stonewalled again, when he had acted on a violent impulse. 

Nicolas stood to his full height and the band of light in his hand pulsed outward. Ragnar screamed again as he watched the light pass over and through him. Suddenly, Nicolas knew what the light pulse did and he laughed. It was a deep, long belly laugh. The involuntary action shattered whatever remnant of fight that remained to Ragnar. A dark stain spread across the lower part of his cloak.

Holding up his left hand to show the colorless light to the terrorized priest he asked in between laughs, “Do you know what this is?”

It was a monumental effort for Ragnar, but he managed to barely shake his head. 

“Animadverte. Marking of the Soul. Astral magic is intensive on the casters' mana for two reasons. One, it requires a ritual to be performed in order to map out the target's soul. The other reason is having to overcome the target's soul defenses.” Nicolas looked at the light, mesmerized. 

“This spell takes the first part of that problem and negates it almost completely. This was something that was only ever even theorized. With the mana consumption alone, I should be dead from casting it so many times, and yet here I am using it as a torch. I've ripped away the left arm of your soul, Ragnar, and it was consumed. It's gone. Forever. There is no growing it back.” 

At that, a pulse of light passed through the cowering man. His soul was marked once again. Nicolas pushed through the astral plane, using the power of Animadverte to guide himself. With an understanding of the spell structure, Nicolas realized just how crudely he had used it. He saw the look on Ragnar's face the moment he closed the hand on the first finger of Ragnar's remaining hand. 

“You've got one more chance before I start taking chunks,” Nicolas said. Some part deep within him wanted to do it, to rip and tear Ragnar apart, to go and rip everyone apart. In the darkest depths of his labyrinth of a soul, The Voice stirred. The violent impulse intensified. The only reason he didn't act on it was his wanting of answers. Answers he might be able to get out of someone else. 

“P-p-p…” Ragnar stuttered. 

“Use your big boy words, Priest,” Nicolas said, icy coldness swept through every syllable. He tightened his grip on Ragnar's soul and began to pu-

“PACT! PACT! PACT!” Ragnar shouted the words. A sickly purple light radiated off Ragnar's upper chest, as he threw himself into the floor. 

Nicolas knew very little about Pact and Sealing magic. It was the only discipline of magic that required the use of crystals as an external mana source. Due to this, it it's utilized primarily in the security of information. 

Glyphs will always follow three simple rules, regardless of their complexity. The first is the same rule that applies to all magic theory. Simple does not mean easy. The strength of the seal is relative to the mana infused within it, not the seal lines themselves. Finally, do not attempt to break a seal without adequate knowledge of who, what, and why. Who created it? What is it sealing? Why would this need to be sealed or unsealed?

A relatively good thing about seals is that they won't kill those who break a pact. It will make those who break them wish it did though. Nicolas thought on the last bit of information. 

“Who, what, and why?” He asked out loud. The intensity of the purple hue was dimming. It was at a snail's pace, but it was dimming. Nicolas was starting to pace, the purple light of Ragnar's Pact Seal faded into darkness, the only light in the room was from Nicolas's spell. 

“You're a priest of, uh, something. You're wearing the symbol of The Brood,” Nicolas said. The only sounds in the room were his boots scraping the rocky ground and Ragnar's whimpers. “Show me the seal again.” Ragnar hesitated, but complied. 

The seal itself was about the size of Nicolas's hand. It looked like it had been carved directly into his skin and left a scar. Surprisingly, none of the scar tissue felt raised. It was two circles, one was smaller and inside the other. At the very top of the inner circle was a triangle, equal on all sides, stretching down until it was spitting the circle into equal halves. At what would be the center of both our circles, was the tip of the second triangle as it copied the same pattern. Inside the ring created by the two circles were fuzzy symbols that Nicolas couldn't make out. He let out a slow whistle. Simple does not mean easy.

“I don't even understand how they even made this. There's no marks from an etching tool, it's not burned on, nor tattooed. It's not even ink. There's nothing you can tell me?” Nicolas asked, caught between a feeling of frustration and excitement. It's not on the skin, maybe the muscle or bone?

“I… I can't. It goes against..” Ragnar said, pointing at his chest. This was the first time he had spoken in a while. Nicolas watched as the light grew in intensity again, but stopped and slowly died down. 

The old man looked ancient now, his wrinkly skin was torn up and down his only working arm. He looked like shit. 

Ragnar took a breath in and steeled himself before saying, “He's testing you.” The purple light grew but fizzled out a second later. 

“So he is involved with the whatever-the-fuck blood that was in the chalice?” Nicolas asked. Frustration was steadily winning in the race against his excitement. He felt an urge to send the pulse out again. Ragnar said nothing. Nicolas let the urge win. The Animadverte Spell swept across the entirety of the room. 

That's when Nicolas noted two big things. There were no scars to be felt from Ragnar's seal because it wasn't carved into the skin. If Nicolas hadn't been touching it, he doubted he'd even believe what he was seeing. He couldn't make out the letters because they weren't on the material plane, they were on the astral. Ragnar's seal was carved directly into the man's soul. That's when the other thing happened. 

“Greetings, child. It's time we talked.” The Voice said. 

[anxiouspotatorants]

It is time. It is finally time for the new Suicide Squad rant (and spoilers will be plentiful):

As someone who was into DC Comics and comics in the mid to late 2010s and had so much hype for the first Suicide Squad movie only to be let down, I was so nervous for this one. I knew it was going to be a roller coaster, but whether I would come out happy or disappointed was up in the air. Having just seen it I will say this: I have no idea if this was a good movie-movie. It was insane. The comedy. The violence. The high emotion. I’m still trying to take it all in. But one thing I do know is that this is an amazing Suicide Squad movie. Gunn and co took the best parts of the comic concept and went batshit with it and that is how this property should be handled (in my opinion). Screw edgelordisms, we need full on insanity free of aiming for shock-value or sexy brutality we want chaos baby.

Starting the whole movie as they did, with Savant as the POV for a mission (or part of the mission) that just goes to hell immediately and kills off so many before the title arrives is the perfect way to start this movie. Like the second I realized this was how they were doing it I was just smiling from ear to ear, this is the spirit of the property.

Part of me wishes we got more Amanda Waller, but what we had was impeccable. Then again, this is Viola Davis we���re talking about, and if she was born to play any character in a superhero story, it is Amanda Waller.

And points to her tech team, introducing them with the death bets was just a lovely way to show how regular this is and how awful everyone is in this movie.

I’m not going to pretend like Deadshot and Bloodsport didn’t have the exact same character- and plot premises… but I will say that Bloodsport felt better executed.

I love that they kept some of the past members and not just Harley. Rick Flag got to have a full personality and interactions with his team members and to be a true leader and it made me so happy for someone who initially did not give a single shit about his character. The Harley friendship? The Dubois friendship? The friendship with that guerilla leader? Amazing. The one American soldier in fictional media I genuinely like. You go Mr Flag.

The new members were… they were insane in the best way. Gone are the shitty stereotypes and present are some of the wackiest creations to ever grace the mainstream movie-sphere (aka the slightly less normal comic creations): A man who has to shoot out polka dots two times a day so as not to die from a space virus. A giant child murdering weasel. A guy who detaches his limbs and slaps people with said detached limbs. King Shark. The second person to command rats with a fancy gadget. They are all crazy and all weird and all more or less morally repulsive people and I love them.

The amount of times I did a double take over the soundtrack I swear. Jessie Reyez? The Pixies? It was so much fun to pick up on once I did.

Was the depiction of a vague Latin American country stereotypical? Yes. Was the secret American involvement predictable and felt mildly patronizing from a non-American, part Latina point of view? Yep. But damn it if I didn’t have a good time with those stereotypes and laugh my ass off at how well executed some were. I don’t know if it was meant as parody, but that one secretary has me thinking so — and if so I am pleased.

Speaking of Latino dictators Harley’s one day romance with one of the villains was something I never knew I needed. Like it was so perfect for Harley that when it happened I almost hit myself for not realizing that this kind of plot should be a normal thing for Harley. And the end of it? Perfect not only in this standalone movie, but also in conjunction with the first and with BoP.

The Taika Waititi cameo??? Oh my god??? I did not expect that and I love it?? Sir, What We Do in the Shadows is impeccable.

Rick Flag’s death actually surprised me. It shouldn’t as this is Suicide Squad, but I kind of expected him to be on Harley’s level of unkillable (because let’s face it, no one kills Harley). What I will say is that his death was good and his final words and actions made me love him all the more. I hope this spawns more Rick Flag content, or at least inspires me to look at what already exists, if he already is as this movie made him (it’s been ages since I read one of the Suicide Squad reboot comics okay).

Starro. How can a villain be so wacky and so terrifying at the same time? I did not expect a literal alien starfish to have more terrifying powers and a more tragic plot execution than Enchantress. But here we are. And that damn star just wanted to be floating in space, and instead it was stuck getting revenge by killing and puppeteering human corpses. Wow that thing was creepier the more you think about it.

I don’t know what I think about Polka Dot Man. I loved watching him on screen but also damn those mommy-issues were on a new level. Not just in his backstory but how he literally sees her in every person around him that was insane. Very funny but like also the kind that makes you laugh just because you’re uncomfortable and don’t know how else to releive the tension.

When Waller got knocked out by a staff member I immediately thought «oh my god Amanda Waller is going to kill half the staff for this», so I’m mildly surprised and disappointed that I didn’t get to see that happen. But also I should maybe expect something like this in a potential future Suicide Squad movie. We can’t have everything in a movie as packed as this.

Peacemaker was very horrible and worked really well. Don’t really have much to say about him, not because I didn’t enjoy him but because I already feel like the film itself has said it for me. But the planting and payoff for his death? Chef’s. Kiss.

Harley’s wardrobe was beautiful. Ratcatcher 2’s combat outfit felt like a steampunk plague dream. Bloodsport’s mask was supercool. Rick Flag’s t-shirt was amazing. But the best little outfit was the Mafalda-keychain and her red dress, hands down. Oh and King Shark’s fake moustache finger moment.

King Shark is shaped like a friend I don’t care how many people he ate alive on screen he looks so huggable. It feels like wanting to pet a bear. You know it will kill you but damn it look at those paws and those cute eyes!

I really need to give it to not just James Gunn but the entire production team for this movie. The aesthetic was perfect. The story was the right blend of whimsical and violent. The finished product was a literal rollercoaster and I mean that in a good way. If superhero movies have to be like amusement parks, I hope they’re more like this one and BoP.

I’ll finish on the note that while I think this movie was great and hopefully a step in the right direction for the DCU/DCEU (as in stop trying to play Marvel’s game and just do your own thing/ let your creative teams run wild and free), it is not the first step. Cathy Yan, Birds of Prey and the production team for it took a step first, and they deserve due credit and attention. If you loved this Suicide Squad movie and haven’t watched BoP yet, do so. Because they really are in the same ballpark while doing things in slightly different ways. And any good DCEU movie deserves more attention so the studios know that creativity and risks should be rewarded. I want more DC movies like this, not necessarily in genre but in creative risks. I want a Black Canary rock movie. I want Alfred in a reverse heist movie alone in the batcave against Gotham villains. I want Gotham Academy on screen play by play from the comics. I want a fully animated psychedelic-like Khalid Nassour as Dr. Fate movie. I want elevated horror movie Constantine. I want weird ass Lois Lane journalist movies with a heavy side of Superman. And I want DC movies I didn’t even know I wanted.

Support creativity in mainstream comic movies. Help me become a DC fan and happy about it again.

[maxwell-grant]

What are your thoughts on Jekyll/Hyde and his archetype of the human periodically changing into a monster ?

Jekyll & Hyde was the 2nd horror story I read following Frankenstein, I got it off the same library and it always stuck very strongly with me even before I got into horror in general. I even dressed up as Jekyll/Hyde as a kid for a school fair by shredding a lab coat on one side and asking my sister to make-up claw gashes on my exposed arm and paint half of my face, although in hindsight I think I ended up looking more like Doctor Two-Face than Jekyll/Hyde, but I was 12 and didn't have any Victorian clothing to use so I had to make do. The first film project I tried doing at film school was intended to be a modern take on Jekyll & Hyde, and I didn't get much farther than a couple of discarded scripts

Much like Frankenstein, Mr Hyde as a character and a story is something that's kind of baked into everything I do artistically. And it's not just me, as even in pop culture itself, none of us can escape Mr Hyde. I would go so far as to argue Mr Hyde may be the single most significant character created by victorian fiction, if only by the sheer impact and legacy the character's had.

(Fan-art by guilhermefranco)

Part of what makes Mr Hyde such a powerful and lasting icon of pop culture is that the very premise of the book invites a personal reading that's gonna vary from person to person. Because everyone's familiar with the basic twist of the story, that it's a conflict of duality, of the good and evil sides, but everyone has a more personal idea of what those entail. Some people make the story more about class. A lot of readings laser-focus on sex and lust as the driving force, and there's also a lot of readings of Mr Hyde that tackle it to explore a more gendered perspective, and so forth.

I don't particularly take much notice of the Jekyll & Hyde adaptations partially because the novel's premise and themes have become baked so throughly into pop culture and explored in so many different and interesting ways, that I'm not particularly starving for good Jekyll & Hyde adaptations the way I am for Dracula and Frankenstein. The Fredric March film in particular is one that orbits my head less because of the film itself (although I do recommend it), but because of one specific scene, and that's when Jekyll first transforms into Hyde on screen.

Out of all the things they could have shown him doing right that second, they instead took the time to show him enjoying the rain.

Just Hyde taking off his hat and letting it all cascade on his face with this sheer enthusiasm like he's never been to the rain before, never enjoyed it before, and now that he's free from being Jekyll, he gets to enjoy life like he never has before. It's such an oddly humanizing moment to put amidst a horror movie, in the scene where you're ostensibly introducing the monster to the audience, and it makes such a stark contrast to the rest of the film where Hyde is completely irredeemable, but I think it's that contrast that makes the film's take on Hyde work so well even with it's diverging from the source material, even if I don't particularly like in general interpretations of Hyde that are focused on a sexual aspect.

Because one, it understands that Jekyll was fundamentally a self-serving coward and not a paragon of goodness, and two, it also understands one of the things that makes Hyde scary: He wants what all of us want, to live and be happy. He's happy when he leaves the lab and dances around in the rain like a giddy child, he's happy when he goes to places Jekyll couldn't dream of showing up, he's happy as a showgirl-abusing sexual predator. Hyde is all wants, all the time, and there's not that much difference between his wants, his domineering possessiveness, and the likes exhibited by Muriel's father and Jekyll's own within the very same film, which also works to emphasize one of the other ideas of the original story, that Edward Hyde doesn't come from nowhere. That no monster is closer to humanity than Mr Hyde, because he is us. He is the thing that Jekyll refused to take responsability for until it was too late.

(Art by LorenzoMastroianni)

While many of the ideas that defined Mr Hyde had already been explored in pop culture beforehand, Hyde popularized and redefined many of them in particular by modernizing the idea. He was the werewolf, the doppelganger, The Player On The Other Side, except he came from within. He was not transformed by circumstance, he made himself that way, and the elixir merely brought out something already inside his soul. To acknowledge that he's there is to acknowledge that he is you, and to not do that is to either lose to him, or perish. Hyde was there to address both the rot settling in Victorian society as well as grappling concerns over Darwinian heritage, of the realization that man has always had the beast inside of him (it's no accident that Hyde's main method of murder is by clubbing people to death with his cane like a caveman).

I've already argued on my post about Tarzan that the Wild Man archetype, beginning with Enkidu of The Epic of Gilgamesh, is the in-between man and beast, between superhero and monster, and that Mr Hyde is an essential component of the superhero's trajectory, as the creature split in between. That stories about dual personalities, doppelgangers, the duality of the soul, the hero with a day job and an after dark career, you can pinpoint Hyde as a turning point in how all of these solidified gradually in pop culture. And I've argued otherwise that The Punisher, for all that his image and narrative points otherwise, is ultimately just as much of a superhero as the rest of them, even if no one wants to admit it, drawing a parallel between The Punisher and Mr Hyde. And he's far from the only modern character that can invite this kind of parallel.

The idea of a regular person periodically or permanently transforming into, or revealing itself to be, something extraordinary and fantastic and scary, grappling with the divide it causes in their soul, and questions whether it's a new development or merely the truest parts of themselves coming to light at last, and the effects this transformation has for good and bad alike. The idea of a potent, dangerous, unpredictable enemy who ultimately is you, or at least a facet of you and what you can do. That these are bound to destroy each other if not reconciled with or overcome.

You know what are my thoughts on the archetype of "human periodically changing into a monster" are? Look around you and you're gonna see the myriad ways The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's themes have manifested in the century and a half since the story's release. Why it shouldn't be any surprise whatsoever that Mr Hyde has become such an integral part of pop culture, in it's heroes and monsters alike. Why we can never escape Mr Hyde, just as Jekyll never could.

It is Nixon himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character that almost every country in the world has learned to fear and despise. Our Barbie-doll president, with his Barbie-doll wife and his boxful of Barbie-doll children is also America's answer to the monstrous Mr. Hyde.

He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding string-warts on nights when the moon comes too close… - Hunter S. Thompson

There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction that explains almost every terrible thing happening in the news today. And it's not the scene where Ving Rhames shoots that guy's dick off. It's the part where the hit man played by John Travolta is talking about how somebody vandalized his car, and says this:

"Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It'd been worth him doing it, just so I could've caught him doing it."

That last sentence is something everyone should understand about mankind. After all, the statement is completely illogical -- revenge is supposed to be about righting a wrong. But he wants to be wronged, specifically so he'll have an excuse to get revenge. We all do.

Why else would we love a good revenge movie? We sit in a theater and watch Liam Neeson's daughter get kidnapped. We're not sad about it, because we know he's a badass and he finally has permission to be awesome. Not a single person in that theater was rooting for it to all be an innocent misunderstanding. We wanted Liam to be wronged, because we wanted to see him kick ass. It's why so many people walk around with vigilante fantasies in their heads.

Long, long ago, the people in charge figured out that the easiest and most reliable way to bind a society together was by controlling and channeling our hate addiction. That's the reason why seeing hurricane wreckage on the news makes us mumble "That's sad" and maybe donate a few bucks to the Red Cross hurricane fund, while 9/11 sends us into a decade-long trillion-dollar rage that leaves the Middle East in flames.

The former was caused by wind; the latter was caused by monsters. The former makes us kind of bummed out; the latter gets us high.

It's easy to blame the news media for pumping us full of stories of mass shootings and kidnapped children, but that's stopping one step short of the answer: The media just gives us what we want. And what we want is to think we're beset on all sides by monsters.

The really popular stories will always feature monsters that are as different from us as possible. Think about Star Wars -- what real shithead has ever referred to himself as being on "the dark side"? In Harry Potter and countless fantasy universes, you have wizards working in "black magic" and the "dark arts." Can you imagine a scientist developing some technology for chemical weapons or invasive advertising openly thinking of what he does as "dark science"? Can you imagine a real world leader naming his headquarters "The Death Star" or "Mount Doom"?

Of course not. But we need to believe that evil people know they're evil, or else that would open the door to the fact that we might be evil without knowing it. I mean, sure, maybe we've bought chocolate that was made using child slaves or driven cars that poisoned the air, but we didn't do it to be evil -- we were simply doing whatever we felt like and ignoring the consequences. Not like Hitler and the bankers who ruined the economy and those people who burned the kittens -- they wake up every day intentionally dreaming up new evils to create. It's not like Hitler actually thought he was saving the world.

So no matter how many times you vote to cut food stamps and then use the money to buy a boat, you could still be way worse. You could, after all, be one of those murdering / lazy / ignorant / greedy / oppressive monsters that you know the world is full of, and that only your awesome moral code prevents you from turning into at any moment. And those monsters are out there.

They have to be. Because otherwise, we're the monsters - 5 Reasons Humanity Desperately Wants Monsters To Be Real, by Jason Pargin

(Two-Face sequence comes from the end of Batman Annual #14: Eye of the Beholder)

For good or bad, Hyde has become omnipresent. He's a part of our superheroes, he's a part of our supervillains, he's in our monsters. He lives and prattles in our ears, sometimes we need him to survive, and sometimes we become Hyde even when we don't need to, because our survival instincts or base cruelties or desperation brings out the worst in us. Sometimes we can beat him, and sometimes he's not that bad. Sometimes we do need to appease him and listen to what he says, about us and the world around us. And sometimes we need to do so specifically to prove him wrong and beat him again.

But he never, ever goes away, as he so accurately declares in the musical

Do you really think That I would ever let you go...

Do you think I'd ever set you free?

If you do, I'm sad to say It simply isn't so

You will never get away FROM MEEEEEE

(Art by Akreon on Artstation)

[buggerthis]

i'm very into n intrigued by ur points abt serial killer william !! bc i do feel on some level that's like, the compelling point of all buffyverse vampires. like, that any human has these threads of violence and anger and callousness in them that, if given free reign and the absolution of the need to have a conscience, we would indulge in, and viciously. like, that bit in doppelgangland about "a vampire's personality has nothing to do with the person they were" / "well. actually—" the way wanton cruelty on the small scale he has access to on liam turns to cruelty on the most intense scale anyone could ever do on angelus. the way a cavalier wryness about the world on human darla turns to this removed, amused approach to violence on vampire darla. the way an urge towards callousness and control, a dislike of consequences on human willow turns to reveling in power and hurting others for the sport of it all on vampire willow.

like i feel like most of the soft william stuff comes from like, the narrative insanity of just how good spike is able to be when he should have no right to, not even any metaphysical capacity to? like it's just such a fruitful concept to explore that will make insane forever. like, not necessarily Soft Spike as a refutal of Violent Spike's existence, but Soft Spike as just this like,,, ontologically bizarre creature who begs to be Posted About constantly bc like... WHAT how did he even Happen it's insane??? he demands to be Discussed.

but also you're so right that like, it's key to explore what makes his brand of vampiric violence tick, the ways that his version of killing links back to william's passions and insecurities (the fact that, i think this is confirmed in a comic somewhere? or might've been a cut bit of a shooting script? the first people he kills as a vampire are the people who laugh at him at that party, those are the people who he drives the railroad spikes through. which is just!!! that's his name!! his very vampiric identity comes from violently punishing people who made him feel small and insignificant!)

like to me spike is such a fascinating case study in morality bc he is simultaneously someone who demonstrates that even and sometimes especially like, lovestruck poet boys who love their mothers have capacities for great violence, because we all do!?!! and also that even hardened soulless being supposedly incapable of goodness have the capacity to choose to redefine their lives in the pursuit of love and goodness, because we ALL do?!!? because at the source of it all there's love!!!! and it's insane!!! all of it makes me insane!!!!!!!!!

fuck….literally……. once again mx chasingfictions coming through with the absolutely insane and Right topics at hand . this ask is a masterpiece in itself

coming back to ur point about his first victims being the people that ridiculed him at the ball YES!!!!! I WANTED TO SAY THAT but i couldn’t find the source!! but if it is The Thing That Happened it literally goes full circle with the thoughts on revenge.. the way that it festered in him long enough to act on it as soon as he got the power to do so with no consequence!!

and for soft spike Yes he is an anomaly . i for one still go crazy over his Moments i mean it IS really weird and strange and kinda cool to see how far a vampire (especially spike) can be pushed into doing a ‘good deed’ even if it’s for selfish reasons

i think about how little convincing it took for william to succumb to vampirism.. to killing himself.. all because someone was nice to him in the heat of his destruction. and i wonder if he hadn’t seen buffy so sad and alone that night if he Would’ve actually shot her In The Heat Of His Destruction . of his anger .

do i think william was a bad man from the moment he was born No . but certain circumstances shape a person.. how many times was he ridiculed before That Night . how many crushes have rejected him . how many times did his mother look at him with pity . i so wish we got to see more of him…….

[happyandticklish]

Not Just An Annoyance

Notes: For the ask by @ticklish-sidekick. Based somewhere between the Titan’s Curse and The Battle of the Labrynth. As someone who was once the younger kid with the stupidly obvious crush on their older peers, I related a lot to Nico throughout the series. I hope you enjoy my sweet emo child as he receives all the tickles he deserves! :)

Summary: Nico keeps annoying Percy to get him to tickle him, and Percy is oblivious as per usual.

“What’s that?”

Percy jumped near out of his skin at the sudden presence of the other boy peering over his shoulder, banging his knee into the cafeteria table. There was something about the way Nico moved that made him slightly uneasy, like he was sliding out of the shadows. He glanced down at the sword Nico had asked about, which mere moments before had been a pen; Percy had wanted to polish it while everyone else was out at activities.

Evidently, not everyone.

“Uh, it’s my sword,” Percy answered, holding it up for him to examine. “Riptide, technically. Haven’t you seen it before, in battle?”

Nico’s eyes widened at the sight. Before Percy could do anything the boy had snatched it out of his hands, running his fingers over the blunt side of the blade. “Yeah, I mean, a couple times. I’ve never seen it up close though. How come it has a name? How does it turn from a pen into a sword? Do you actually know how to fight with this? Could I try?”

The questions buzzed around Percy’s head, whizzing too fast for him to concentrate on one. He decided to focus on the last one, as he figured that was the most prominent one. “Absolutely not. You’ll get yourself killed.”

He held out his hand for the sword, but Nico was already swinging the sword down in a wide arc, flushing in excitement as it whooshed through the air. “Awesome.”

“Nico, c’mon, give me my sword back.” Percy stood up, attempting to wrestle the hilt of the sword away from him. Nico was small and squirrely however, and easily evaded his grasp, clumsily slashing at empty air several more times. “That’s not safe, you know. And your technique is all wrong.”

“Then teach me the right way,” Nico responded brazenly, completely oblivious to Percy’s growing annoyance.

Percy narrowed his eyes at the insolence. He knew the kid didn’t mean to get in his way, but that didn’t stop him from making endless troubles for Percy. He thought back to Manhattan, and all the times he had acted up in similar manners. He remembered a certain technique his mom had used on him in those circumstances, and he figured they would surely be just as effective now.

While Nico was distracted attempting to heft Riptide into a natural thrust, Percy managed to sneak up behind him and place both hands on his sides. Nico froze, his entire face going red though Percy of course couldn’t see that.

“Give me the sword Nico,” Percy demanded. “Or else.”

Nico stiffened, trying to act brave through his apprehensive confusion. “No. I’m still using it.”

“Okay,” Percy said, shrugging as if to say the matter was taken out of his hands. “You asked for it.”

The last thing Nico expected was for two pairs of fingers to dig suddenly into his sides as Percy enacted his tried and true method. Nico jumped, bursting into uncontrollable giggles as he squirmed in his hands.

“N-Nohohoho!” Nico protested, attempting to wriggle out of his grip but finding that Percy’s strength vastly outmatched his own. “Ahahaha, Nahahat fahahahair!”

“Are you gonna give me the sword?” Percy asked, knowing that technically speaking Nico’s grip was weak enough on the weapon by now that he could grab it himself if he wanted. He decided it was more fun this way, however. “Hmm? What’s that? Are you at a loss for words?”

That’s a first.

“Stahahahap!” Nico screeched, dropping the sword finally and attempting to pry away Percy’s hands. “Ehehehe, pffft, nohohoho mohohore!”

“Are you gonna leave me alone?”

“Yehehehes!”

“And quit asking so many questions?”

“Yehehehes, yehehes!”

Finally Percy backed off and Nico collasped to the ground, wrapping his arms protectively around his middle. Percy calmly retrieved his sword while the other glared at him. “Tickling is not fair.”

“It’s called strategy,” Percy informed him, bumping him affectionately with his foot as he walked by. “See, you did learn something.”

Nico watched as Percy capped his sword, the weapon instantly shrinking down into a pen that he pocketed before walking off to go find the others. His skin still tingled anxiously as phantom tickles ran up and down his sides. He slowly clambered to his feet, trying to shake off the leftover embarrassment from acting so childish in front of someone as cool as Percy. Crumpling into a ball of giggles in front of your hero certainly didn’t help when you were trying to look tough.

But there was something about the way Percy had smirked when he had grabbed his sides, the teasing lilt to his voice, that awoke strange, fluttery excitement in the pit of his stomach. Percy was normally so dismissive of him, treating him as some annoying younger brother; it was nice having all that attention focused on him for a change.

So for the next couple weeks, Nico found himself doing everything in his power to provoke Percy into another “attack”. And, as most would say about him if asked, Nico could be very persistent when he wanted to be.

“Nico!” Percy spluttered, resurfacing after the other had shoved him quite suddenly and unexpectedly into the lake. “What the hell?”

Nico shrugged, flashing him an impish grin. “I wanted to see if the Son of Poseidon could swim better than normal people. I guess I was wrong though, because you seem to be struggling quite a lot.”

“Because you shoved me—” Percy exclaimed, before cutting himself off with an irritated smirk. “Alright then. But you only have yourself to blame for what happens next.”

“What do you mean—wah!”

Nico yelped in surprise as Percy’s hand shot out of the water suddenly, grabbing his ankle and jerking him into the lake with him. He landed with a splash next to Percy, waves cascading out around him. He came to the surface with an indignant gasp, and barely had time to get his breath back before Percy had pulled him into his arms, fingers wiggling into his now soaked shirt.

Nico shrieked, instantly squirming and attempting to evade his grasp, but Percy’s grip on him was too strong. “Ah, wahahait, nohoho, Pehehercy!”

“This is what happens when you mess with the great Percy Jackson,” the other triumphed, squeezing his sides rapidly and prompting a flood of embarrassing squeaks and giggles from Nico.

“Ihihihit wahahahas juhuhust ahahaha prahahahank!” Nico protested, throwing his head back with a wild grin and kicking his legs out violently in the water. “Thihihihis ihihihisn’t fahahahahair!”

“It’s perfectly fair,” Percy argued. “This is revenge, plain and simple. I wonder what would happen if I just…” He grabbed both of Nico arms, holding them above his head with one hand. With the other, he started rapidly spidering fingers in his left armpit. Nico promptly freaked out, writhing and bucking like crazy as the unbearable sensations took over. It was a credit to Percy’s superior abilities as a swimmer that he was able to keep both of them afloat through the process.

Nico got truly desperate when the touches changed from light fluttering into intense drilling, directly in the spot where his armpits met his ribs. “Nahahahaha, stahahahahap, stahahahahap, ohoho myhyhy g-gohohods!”

“Alright, alright.” Percy let go, whereupon Nico’s arms hastily clamped to his sides, and paddled their way back over to the dock. Nico gratefully pulled himself up and collapsed on the wooden platform, freezing cold and giggling.

“That was mean,” he accused, throwing an arm over his face to hide his growing blush.

Percy pulled himself up besides him, playfully poking him in the side to hear him yelp and scramble away. “Hey, sometimes you gotta be mean to teach someone a lesson. Besides, you’re too easy. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as ticklish as you are—it’s kind of adorable.”

Nico opened his mouth and closed it, attempting to somehow stammer out a response to that. Before he could, Percy had shot to his feet and was off again, presumably to go dry off. Nico flushed violently and, after a moment of hesitation, followed in suit, the slight breeze combined with his dripping wet clothes causing goosebumps to scatter up his arms.

Nico failed to get any sleep that night, as Percy’s words echoed over and over again in his head until he eventually buried his face into his pillow in delighted embarrassment.

The provocation only continued as time went on. Nico sprinted frantically across the camp grounds one late afternoon, dipping in-between confused campers who stared after him quizzically. In one of his hands he clutched a simple necklace—a necklace which happened to belong to one Percy Jackson, furiously in chase behind him. Already, helpless laughter spilled from the young boy’s lips as the anticipation of the chase caught up with him.

“Nico!” Percy yelled after him, hastily apologizing to campers as he bumped and stumbled into them. “That’s important, give it back!”

“Make me!”

Evocative words, a tease Nico knew the other couldn’t resist. Sure enough, Percy soon caught up to him, and instead of grabbing him he skipped straight to digging hands into his sides as the two rolled over on the grass. Laughter spilled already from Nico’s lips as electric shocks coursed up and down his body from the sensations. Percy quickly forgot about the necklace, as he did most of the stolen objects in these games they played, and simply went about wrecking the boy, wiggling fingers into every ticklish crevice on his body until Nico was squealing and begging for him to stop.

Only once Nico had truly reached his limit did Percy back off, letting the other breathe as he collapsed on the ground. Percy retrieved his necklace easily, as it had fallen from the other’s hands quite a while ago. Nico rolled over on his sides, leftover giggles wracking his shaking frame.

“Don’t take my stuff,” Percy warned him, trying to sound angry though most of the anger was stripped from his voice as he beheld the happy boy before him. “I mean it this time.”

Nico nodded frantically, but deep down knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

Weeks went by before either of them said something about it. It was a colder night, one of those midsummer evenings where one could feel the hints of autumn creeping in, and thus Percy sat huddled by the fire, his eyes closed as he absorbed the heat gratefully. There were a couple others milling in and around the fire pit, most either in their cabin or engaged in late-night conversation with friends and lovers. Nico hesitated before approaching him, worried for the first time in quite a while about being a bother. Normally he wouldn’t care as it usually resulted in Percy tickling the ever-loving shit out of him, but he was always worried that he might be going too far and that one day Percy was just going to snap at him in anger.

Not to mention, he looked so peaceful with his head tilted back, eyes closed and wind gently tousling his hair. Nico flushed, pushing the invading thoughts aside. He was well aware of the hopelessness of his crush, but that didn’t stop it from encroaching at the worst times.

“Hey,” he said, lowering himself to the ground and crossing his legs besides Percy. The other startled at his presence, whipping his head around to face him. “Nice night, huh?”

“Yeah,” Percy replied warily. He waited for a moment, clearly expecting something from the other. When Nico did nothing, he relaxed slightly, allowing himself to face the fire again.

“Hey,” he said hesitantly after a couple seconds of silence had gone by, an awkward note to his voice. “I just wanted to say sorry. For, you know, torturing you for the past month. It’s just… I don’t know, I guess I’m just not that used to dealing with kids, and I went a little overboard with you. I know you don’t mean to be annoying, or anything—”

“I do,” Nico interrupted, surprising both himself and Percy. He hadn’t meant to say the words—they had slipped out without his permission. “Mean to be annoying, that is. It’s… uh, on purpose.”

“Oh,” Percy said, frowning a little. “Why?”

Nico shrugged, picking at his fingernails and avoiding the other’s gaze. “Dunno. I guess it just… it felt nice to have your attention, you know? You usually treat me like a pest, or some minor annoyance you don’t want to put up with. I guess it was kind of fun having you hang out with me.”

“Fun?” Percy repeated incredulously. “But I was always so mean to you! I mean, what, do you like being tickled out of your wits all the time?”

Nico blushed furiously, staring intensely at the ground and not responding. It took a moment for the realization to hit Percy. “You do like being tickled? Wait—is that why you’ve been bothering me all this time? So I would tickle you?”

Nico grunted noncommittally.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Percy exclaimed, knocking his shoulder against the other affectionately. “I would have just tickled you, if you had told me that was something you wanted. You didn’t have to force me into it—in fact, I think I would much rather you ask as opposed to just stealing my stuff all the time and shoving me into lakes.”

Nico whipped his head up to stare at him for the first time throughout their entire conversation, his eyes wide. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“I mean, I don’t personally understand it,” Percy admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I think I would die if anyone tickled me as much as I’ve been doing to you all the time. But if it’s what makes you happy, then it makes me happy. You’re my friend Nico—not a pest or an annoyance. I care about you.”

Those words, such a simple thing for Percy to say, meant the world to the little boy staring up at him. He flushed, trying to figure out how to possibly respond without sounding like a lovestruck dork about it. “Thank you,” he muttered, before kicking a foot out and digging it into the other’s side. “Idiot.”

Before he knew what was happening, however, Percy had latched onto his leg, locking an arm around his ankle and thus securing his foot in place. Nico swallowed nervously as Percy removed first his shoes than his sock, the cold air blowing preemptively against his now bare foot. Nico’s toes curled in anticipation at Percy’s growing smirk.

“Oh Nico,” he said, clucking his tongue regretfully. “You shouldn’t have done that. Especially after you just admitted that you like to be tickled, well… I mean, it’s really your fault what happens next here.”

Nico grinned, ducking his chin into his chest in embarrassment. “I hate you.”

Percy matched his grin with his own and Nico’s heart fluttered traitorously in his chest. “Of course you do.”

The camp soon rung with the sounds of Nico’s crazed giggles, leaving many a camper to stop and stare at the sight of what looked like the famous Percy Jackson tickling the shit out of the new upstart Nico di Angelo. That wasn’t the last time they witnessed such a sight either, and in the end, Nico found he couldn’t be happier with the way things had turned out.

[wewinbees]

“you only saw me as a weapon!” an in-depth analysis of tommy and techno’s relationship /rp

a mild focus on techno’s thoughts since it’s his speech, but not one or the other is in the right here. a lot of this might have been said, but this is a BIG collection from pogtopia to doomsday to address as many angles as possible. to preface, i don’t think tommy sees techno as a weapon and nothing else, but the point remains that techno feels like he does, and that’s important.

this is from like january btw lol

we’ll start with “the blade” tommy’s nickname for techno, which got adopted by a lot of the server (as tommy’s nicknames tend to be). most other people have the Big [X] format, but techno gets this specialised nickname. i think the reason he developed a negative association with it was because of when it was used; when they need him for fights. the most important would be the vault reveal, with wilbur getting everyone to victoriously chant “we have the blade!” to boister morale. this would have been fine in and of itself, if it weren’t for the events of the rest of the day and what that name would come to represent. it ends up becoming a taunt to him, because that’s what people get close to him for. his use to them as the blade rather than his friendship to them as technoblade

tommy’s always very happy to call in techno for help, and techno usualy sorts it out with... minimal effort required. i do see this more as a blend of tommy’s pride in knowing techno and smugness at having that kind of upperhand in a fight over him viewing techno solely as a weapon to use, but this still ends up being detrimental to their friendship because of how much it happens. remember, the entire reason techno joined the server was to help wilbur and techno form pogtopia. techno doesn’t mind helping tommy out, but at some point it’s going to be frustrating, being called in for any and all minor struggles. but in the end of the day, it’s fine, because they’re brothers under the same cause. destroying manberg. Oh Wait.

the main issue came after the festival, with that faith and trust tommy had in techno being shattered; rightfully so, because watching tubbo get murdered was traumatic for him, because for tommy the pit was no way to settle that conflict (which reminded, wasn’t techno’s suggestion, it was proposed and pushed onto them by wilbur). since tommy sees technoblade as unbeatable, he couldn’t understand why techno was so easily peer-pressured by manberg. he was threatened by how many people were against him, he was stressed dealing with the voices telling him to do it, he didn’t see any other way out, he wasn’t getting any support from his only other allies even though he was looking right at them and they still did nothing.

but tommy didn’t understand because he thought techno could have won. techno did try to stall as well, but without orders from his friends he ended up following schatt’s, and once he realised he had the power to kill everyone on stage, he just gave into that power. the miscommunication during the pogtopia arc was why techno felt as betrayed as he did, and why the victim complex argument annoys me so much, since he was kept in the dark for that long while grinding resources for the army. also, since techno wasn’t there for l’manberg’s peaceful days or the start of the disc saga he would never understand how important those attachments were to people, so he’d feel little remorse blowing them all up (especially since he knew that was the backup plan for pogtopia anyway, and just because people were unhappy about it didn’t change the fact that it was a plan)

a lot of people say that techno should have known that pogtopia’s goal was to form a new government, that at some point he should have overheard the real plan. everyone agreed to ‘destroy manberg’ (as in the government not the land) but somehow techno never found out about the ‘restoring l’manberg’ part of the plan. how that happened, who knows, but in the end of the day, the writers chose for that miscommunication to happen for the story. it’s not a how or a why, it’s just a fact that was written in. he didn’t find out until it was right in front of him, and he was bound to feel betrayed by that, enough that he was driven to do something irrational. my personal theory is that techno was mainly following wilbur’s orders, and because wilbur was the real traitor, chances are he never mentioned any forming of a new government since he knew that would lose techno’s support. wilbur was probably using techno as a weapon, that was his mentality for a lot of people back then, but since he was the leader of pogtopia then that negative transference carried on to the rest of the members for techno, most of all tommy as he was the other key founder, and not as underhanded about getting techno’s help. i’d say wilbur’s address of techno during the final speech was the a key reason as to why techno doesn’t feel as used by him than he is with tommy, solidifying the anarchy bros before dying, meaning anything else could be revealed.

after the war, the bedrock bros were completely alienated from eachother. tommy started to blame everything about l’manberg’s destruction on techno, since wilbur died and ghostbur isn’t really at fault for anything. techno distanced himself from everything, going into retirement for the unforeseeable future because he felt like his violent anarchist tactics were futile and grew tired of constant conflict. he talked to tommy a few times during retirement, and every single time, he asks tommy how the government was working out for him. when he was at risk of being exiled, just before being exiled and immediately after exile. he wanted tommy to see the government in the same light as he did, because when l’manberg sold him out he realised they were the same. they’d both been betrayed by the government and from that point on he fully believed tommy would be better off away from l’manberg. but every time tommy said no, because he believed in the original dream wilbur had for l’manberg and because he trusted tubbo’s leadership. techno was smug when he was proved right because of course he was he’s technoblade. plus, they did view eachother as enemies at this point, so it’s not unacceptable for them to argue with eachother right now.

that brings us to the execution. traumatising! the refusal to run a fair trial and the dehumanising treatment from his old allies in pogtopia hammer this home, but importantly they rope philza into the chaos this time. ALSO it’s important to mention that techno was killed; he just got an extra life from the totem. he was actually killed and his character experienced that pain as punishment. he was pushed out of retirement, which was unjust in his eyes, since he believed he had genuinely changed. it didn’t help that quackity explicitly told him it wasn’t actually punishment for the withers, but instead a move to consolidate power, furthering his view of the cabinet as corrupt. from that point on he left retirement. he’d been doing well without violence, building connections with new people like vikk and lazar and finding a fragile form of peace, but in the end this shattered it. he’s back to being the blade, speaking with violence, because l’manberg made it clear there was no other way for him to be heard at this point. so he’s going to destroy them, even if he has to do it alone.

enter stage raccooninnit.

tommy taking refuge in techno’s house because he knew techno was rich enough for him to steal his resources and strong enough to defend him from dream is... interesting. he couldn’t go back to l’manberg, but he took refuge with a man who he viewed as a villain. this probably doesn’t help techno’s opinion of him, since he is quite literally using him for his resources, but in the end of the day tommy was desperate and quite literally on the verge of death, so he seemed to take some kind of pity on him. the exile period of their relationship is definitely the most important part of this argument, because it was just the two of them: no wilbur or pogtopia as an external force (though the pressure of dream and l’manberg still affected things) but in the same way ultimately doomed to fail. they fight for a moment, but ultimately settle as ‘business partners’. which quickly evolves back into a friendship like the one they had before the festival.

my least favourite take is that either one of them never valued the other at this point because this is just.... violently not true. they started off working for mutual benefit; tommy explicitly agreed to do minor terrorism in l’manberg and to help techno get his weapons back in return for techno’s help getting the discs back and taking refuge in his house. from the start both of them stated their limits:

techno was always planning on getting revenge on l’manberg for what happened on the day of his execution

tommy never wanted to upset tubbo, and wanted to put getting his discs back first

should note that tommy changes his mind on the disc’s priority later on, but at the point of their alliance he does make it clear that’s what he wants out of the partnership. the issue is that from the start both of them went in with blind optimism. neither of them lied to eachother or forced them to change their viewpoints but in the end of the day they could never be on the same side as long as l’manberg was involved. (note, i think some people think he wasn’t but techno was actually planning on helping tommy getting the discs back, with him getting annoyed at tommy letting tubbo give dream the disc because that made both of their jobs so much harder, but it was more of a long term goal bc he knew dream was hard to beat. plus before his execution, he visited tommy and strongly implied he would be willing to help with the discs, and that he would be a better ally in those personal aims than NLM were)

i don’t understand the ‘techno was only using tommy’ accusation here because like... how? what would he have to gain by having tommy on his side? he could definitely have blown up l’manberg without his help, so why bring him in at all? it was a very mutual agreement of ‘we’re using eachother’ that developed into genuine friendship. i’ve always seen it as a teaching experience: techno knows tommy had been wronged by NLM, and by extension tubbo, and by taking him on these minor terrorism trips, he’s showing tommy the worst of l’manberg. look, look at this execution stand, look at what they’ve done. and in doing this, he’s trying to prove to tommy that what he’s going to do to l’manberg is right. and in showing him the worst of NLM, he’s neglecting all of its good parts, but again, techno cant see any positives in l’manberg, and is trying to show tommy that everyone, especially tommy, would be better off without it. and tommy had criticisms of l’manberg before he was exiled, especially in regards to tubbo. he told ranboo the reason he chose wilbur to be president instead of tubbo was because he was worried the presidency would ruin their friendship, and Look At Exactly What Happened. techno highlighting the flaws of the country to tommy was easy because it WAS flawed and it hurt both of them. and techno’s hope was that tommy would join him in the eventual destruction of it, because he wanted to share his revenge with tommy and for him to get his own justice against l’manberg. but it... didn’t quite work out that way.

they both tried to make it easier for the other; techno told tommy he didn’t need to fight against l’manberg if he didn’t want to, but tommy came with him to the festival anyway to confront dream, despite techno’s mission being against the government in that situation. tommy started to view tubbo’s cabinet as corrupt for the execution and neglecting him during exile, and ended up helping techno out around the base and even toning down the purposeful annoyance (per techno’s ooc request). and the day before the green festival, he told techno he would help to destroy l’manberg (not knowing how quickly things would escalate the next day, since doomsday was fairly spontaneous) but in the end they would never be able to find a full compromise: techno would always be an anarchist and tommy could never hurt tubbo.

people accuse techno of not caring for tommy, which really annoys me because it’s not?? true??? if anything he shows more outward affection than tommy did. he didn’t have any benefit from taking in tommy, but he still did it. it’s not really basic decency either, given that they were technically enemies beforehand. he picked up on tommy’s fragile state around dream and defended, hid him despite the fact that he owed dream, he kept him away from logsted and the final control room after realising how upsetting they were. he exchanged the christmas presents, he jumped in to defend him against the rest of the server and when tommy betrayed techno, he was genuinely hurt! he was wrecklessly impulsive in a way the calculated blade usually wasn’t, almost blowing up half his house (including almost killing his villagers) because of the negative association with dnret.

that’s not to say tommy doesn’t also get absolutely crucified for betraying techno because of all of techno did for him. again it was somewhat inevitable. tommy said it himself, he was turning into someone he didn’t want to be, he was hurting people, and it was somewhat because he was living with technoblade. he was so powerless under dream, and he liked the feeling of power he got from teaming with techno, so much so that it drove him to cruelty, with even techno telling him he went too far with fundy. in the end, it’s probably for the best that he set that boundary and left to go back to l’manberg, but ultimately it was upsetting to both of them. techno felt betrayed because he genuinely thought tommy was his friend, only to be turned on last minute once again, now surrounded alone by enemies he was trying to protect tommy from. to him, allying with dream was just as bad as tommy allying with l’manberg. a betrayal for a betrayal, absolute reciprocity.

we all know the doomsday speech, with techno’s arguments being consistently stronger than tommy’s and much easier to defend, but we can’t just dismiss him. tommy had a lot of emotional input that day, and was angry at techno for a Lot of reasons, so he was more focused on shouting than making sense. he was more accusatory, while techno had fairly focused rebuttals (which, fair, i’m pretty sure that was techno’s first big addressal of most of that with other characters). it ended with tommy calling techno selfish for destroying l’manberg and techno coldly shutting tommy out for the betrayal.

betrayal was the driving force for techno’s “weapon” speech. tommy used him in pogtopia, tried to use him to stop dream exiling him and terrorising NLM) which he laughed at when told in character) and used him for getting the discs back. tommy wasn’t just using him, he genuinely felt like they had built a relationship beyond that, but when techno acted under his own ideals that went against his, then it was over. because tommy doesn’t value techno’s ideals, because they’re ‘selfish’ to him since he’s one of the only ones who believes in them. in turn techno sees that as making tommy selfish and as such they’re unable to compromise.

living with techno was an important part of tommy’s recovery process, which is still ongoing now. he saw immediate changes from his time with dream, claiming he felt “more me-ey” around techno and genuinely valuing his company. but he viewed techno’s alliance with dream as a betrayal, and he viewed the nov 16th incident as a betrayal. because he see’s techno’s belief in anarchy as selfish. something i never hear people point out is that tommy ADMITS he betrayed techno. after doomsday*, he says “all this time, technoblade told me i was betraying him. and you know what? (whispered) i was.” he’s guilty about it, and he understands that techno’s hurt. but he still can’t see him as being in the right, because techno took l’manberg forcefully and violently, and because tommy was hurt by their separation too. techno was powered by revenge more than anarchy during doomsday, which i think is important to point out. tommy had focused in on the threat of dream, and forgotten all the trauma techno went through with l’manberg, and left techno to rejoin l’manberg.

BOTH of them have explicitly stated “i viewed him as a friend but he never viewed me as one” and that’s just... devastating. at one point we can only hope that they have an in-canon conversation to actually settle all of this, but for now their storylines are separate and we’ll just have to live with that.

if anyone has anything they’d like to ask/clarify, or additions from any side i’d love to see it bc character analysis of dsmp characters is what’s keeping me going rn lmao. i said betrayal so many times here i am very sorry for clogging up the tag bc my readmore isn’t working yet (edit SAVED)

*i actually think this speech from tommy is very important, and not looked at as much as other stuff so im gonna link it here [55:52].

[uomo-accattivante]

Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

###

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Analysing Tommy and Dream’s relationship

In every encounter between Tommy’s character and Dream’s character we cannot forget the elephant in the room. The exile arc. 

Tommy became convinced Dream was his friend in exile. Even as he hurt him and caused him misery he offered Tommy some sense of companionship that Tommy was so desperately lacking. Tommy’s the kind of person who gets attached to things so easily - he’s clingy, attention-seeking and just really needs other people. It’s one of his most striking traits, making him usually very loyal and determined but also desperately, desperately lonely in isolation when he longs to feel accepted by other people for who he is. 

Tommy almost died, in exile. He didn’t want to live in a world where he was unloved and helpless to change his circumstances with Dream being as likely to lash out at him as care for him. It was only remembering his old connection, staring at old pictures of his best friend Tubbo that he found the strength to carry on and realise that Dream never really cared for him. 

And so Tommy escaped.

But the damage was done. When Tommy found Technoblade, he was desperate for affection and approval and guidance but Technoblade, while somewhat fond smply did not have Tommy’s best interests at heart. Technoblade is a violent, destructive person whose thoughts were of revenge and encouraging Tommy simply to forget his old ties and just start a new life. Ultimately, staying with Technoblade gave him security but he also became dangerously violent, lashing out at others now that he finally had a bit of power that he’d been lacking for so long. It helped him to be less petrified of Dream and come to terms with how he’d manipulated him but Tommy was not in a good headspace. 

So Tommy reconciled with his dearest friend. 

But Dream was still out to get him. This time Tommy prepared, gathering materials himself rather than purely leeching off of others and he made plans, recognising that he was in trouble and for all his power, he was not strong enough to defeat Dream. Unlike before his exile, he didn’t run in with a half-formed plan that Tubbo could see was a horrible idea - he prepared gear and secretly found himself an ally first. 

And Tommy confronted Dream and it was here he was both forced to face his worst fears - giving up his discs to dream yet again, letting dream destroy all his armour and things, almost having to watch his best friend get killed. Dream speaking in his soft voice, acting like he cared about Tommy. 

And Dream - Dream is utterly obsessed with Tommy. He’s put Tommy up on this pedestal, calling him the ‘key to the server’ and both blames him for creating conflict and believes he’s the one to create attachments that are each person’s greatest weakness. For Tommy, that was his discs. 

The discs were something Tommy treasured, they were this personal goal. Tommy had always been attached but his attachment became less healthy when he started putting them over his friends in a time of complacency and then during his exile, they developed into a very unhealthy fixation. 

But attachments are a weakness and a strength. Dream chose to remove himself from all his attachments, forgetting Spirit, blowing up the Community House and ignoring his old friends. The only people he had to rely on were the people he paid to work for him, and they both abandoned him when tides began to turn. 

Tommy gets very attached to things, ideas and people. He was an important part of what made L’Manburg so special and for his friends he would do anything, even forgive them for exiling him and turn on the person who’d helped him if he stood against Tommy’s friends. These things make Tommy happy. They help him to care and have goals. 

And when he was in trouble, people came to help him. Maybe they didn’t like a lot of things Tommy had done. But they came anyway because they knew him and they were starting to know what Dream was really like too. His obsession with control and power had turned him into a monster, willing to kill someone just because he no longer had a use for them, and to destroy things people cared about. 

And so Tommy was saved. The moment Punz and co. arrived was like that time Tommy stood on his tower above Logsteadshire and chose to live. That time, he’d had to save himself and that was so important in the first step to recovery, but it’s not enough on its own. He also needed others to come and save him too, and this time they came. After they appeared, Tommy was truly able to really get over much of his trauma. He took Dream’s things. He killed Dream. Twice. Dream tried to manipulate him again, calling him a friend in that soft voice but Tommy was able to ignore him, not being drawn in for a moment. This time had had Dream at his mercy. It was a triumphant moment for him. 

Dream was locked away and Tommy got back his discs and was finally able to listen to them in peace, finally free for the first time since Dream had trapped L’Manburg in obsidian. 

Meanwhile Dream was trapped, in an exile of his very own. It was Dream who put Tommy in exile and it was Tommy who put Dream in prison. And just like Dream visited Tommy, Tommy now visited Dream. 

These character are both so very, very different. Tommy’s brief visit to the prison had him looking for answers and he wanted to avoid manipulative behaviour, being very clear about all his thoughts and feelings. Dreams words meanwhile can rarely be trusted. And Tommy is a very caring person, selfish for love but also selflessly giving away love in equal measure. He cares not for power or control, not knowing what to do with it. Dream has always been after control and thinks love is a weakness, yet it hasn’t stopped his obsession with Tommy from growing, like cutting everything else out has turned into an unhealthy fixation. 

And yet, they have their similarities too, both have some idealised version of the past, with neither quite comfortable with change. Their both very driven and determined and both have caused conflict. And they know a lot about each other. In another life, they could’ve been the greatest of friends.

For now anyway, Tommy’s going to visit Dream. The dynamic’s been turned on its head but their past hangs between them. I don’t know what the future may hold for this relationship.

[astrognossienne]

scandalous beauty: athalia ponsell lindsley - an analysis

“Not that St. Augustine citizens went around killing people they didn’t like. But Athalia was not on a level playing field. Nobody liked her, so there was not a big hue and cry when she was killed.” - Sally Boyles, a neighbour of Lindsley’s

For someone so brash, loud, and ballsy, her life, especially her early life, was quite a mystery. Just like her controversial death. On January 23, 1974, former model, dancer, political activist and television personality Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was murdered with a machete by an unknown assailant on the front steps of her home in St. Augustine, Florida. Her murder is notorious more than four decades after it occurred. The only eyewitness said a man attacked Lindsley with a machete in broad daylight on the front steps of her white mansion. Gossip swirled that neighbour Frances Bemis knew who killed Lindsley and would notify authorities. Bemis was later murdered on her nightly walk. Police arrested only one suspect for Lindsley's murder, which remains unsolved to this day. For someone who was a Leo, I don't think Athalia was a very happy person. I think she tried to bring others down, with her based on her ill-concealed dissatisfaction with the way things were. Unfortunately for her, her demise happened in a town that didn’t care for her.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Libra moon (the moon is speculative). She was born Mary Anne “Athalia” Fetter in Toledo, Ohio in 1917. Her parents were both wealthy New Yorkers; her father was a utilities magnate and her mother a socialite. Shortly after her birth, she and her family moved to Isle of Pines (now known as Isla de la Juventud), Cuba where she was raised until the age of 12. By the time the parents moved to Jacksonville, Florida and enrolled her in parochial school, she was winning beauty contests and pursuing an acting career. After high school, she moved to New York City, where it didn’t take her long to be employed as a fashion model for the celebrated fashion designer John Robert Powers, which helped her land work in some Broadway musicals and as a hostess on a TV game show. By 1949, she was the hottest model in NYC. She was just as hot off the runway as well; the list of Ponsell’s sexual conquests was long, including the likes of actor Tyrone Power and Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr. She was reported to have been married three times, one of  them to a man named Ponsell, but there is no information on him or her other two spouses. She had a scrapbook of all the celebrities and people she was acquainted. But success had quickly gone to the young model’s head, and by 1954, she’d burned all her bridges at her modeling agency, and her reputation as “the bitch of New York” was well-earned and kept her from earning any more work in the entertainment industry.

Out of work, over the hill, and her looks fading, Ponsell quit her 20-years of modeling and entertainment work and retired to a white stucco mansion in St. Augustine in 1972. By that time, the 55-year-old washed-up model became embittered. From the moment she arrived in St.Augustine, she did her best to position herself at the top of the city’s high society. But the sides of that pyramid were very steep, and to the city’s old-school cultural hardliners, she was an outsider, and an obnoxious one, at that. St. Augustine is known for being a rather cliquish town, and unless you have Spanish, Menorcan, or WASP roots, any newcomer is looked at as an outsider. She was known as a pain in the ass, criticizing everything she thought was wrong with the town and its citizens. Naturally the upper crust didn’t take too well to her. She may have annoyed them, but she did catch the eye of another important person, Mayor James Lindsley, a St. Augustine native who went by the nickname “Jinx”. Jinx was known around the city for his ability to work hard and drink even harder. He was of the generation where if he was wronged, or if there was a problem, he settled his differences with his fists. Despite his passionate love affairs with ass kicking and Jack Daniels, Athalia was drawn to Jinx’s good standing with St. Augustine’s old guard, Jinx was attracted to her still-good looks and fiery personality. The two courted hard and fast, and just a few months after they met, they married.

Their marriage was rocky from the start, providing the town with juicy gossip. In fact, just 3 months into the marriage, the two separated. They wound up living in separate homes, fighting back and forth about possessions and property. She may have treated her husband and the town like dirt, but she was very moved by animals and took in a lot of strays and accumulated a coterie of animals. This didn’t endear herself to the neighbours, and they complained of dogs barking and other noises coming from her makeshift “animal shelter”. One neighbour in particular that took exception to Athalia and her animals was a hot-headed county manager called Alan Stanford. Stanford lived next door to her on Marine Street, and the two clashed from day one. Stanford filed several noise complaints against Athalia and her pets, resulting in her arrest. In revenge, she made Stanford’s life as county manager a living hell. She became a fixture at City Hall, attending every county meeting she could and accuse Stanford of all sorts of improprieties, from the mismanagement of county funds to stealing equipment from the road department. Some of these accusations weren’t entirely unfounded, but it got to the point where her presence was dreaded. She was after his job and wanted him fired. Stanford, in turn, threatened her life. December of 1973, she found out that Stanford lacked the civil engineering degree required for all county managers, and went to the state to report him.

On January 23, 1974 she attended her last city hall meeting, armed with petitions of several citizens calling for Stanford to resign. She exposed the fact that Stanford forged documents and padded his experience and qualifications as county manager. Later that day, to celebrate, she met her estranged husband Jinx for lunch. The day went surprisingly well, going shopping in Jacksonville and running errands. At approximately 5:30 pm, they both went home to their respective houses. As Athalia walked her pet blue jay around in her front yard, an intruder emerged from her back yard, armed with a machete. Moments later, the police department received a call about a murder. The police arrived to the provided address and found Athalia sprawled across the front steps of her porch, nearly decapitated and hacked to death with a machete in broad daylight.

The scene was chaotic, with neighbours trampling all over the grass trying to get a look, contaminating evidence. In their great police work, the cops never thought to rope off the crime scene. When her husband Jinx was notified of his wife’s murder, he took his time getting to her house, making a pit stop to his attorney’s office along the way. A few hours later, the cops find a machete in his pickup truck. But an open-and-shut case this was not. In February of 1974, the rumour was that Jinx killed her in a drunken rage. Even though Jinx had a violent temper and smacked his wife around, in the eyes of local investigators, he was “unarrestable”; they had no real evidence against the mayor and he even passed a lie-detector test. A tip from one of Athalia’s neighbours came in: it seems the neighbour’s 19 year-old son claimed to have witnessed her old nemesis Alan Stanford kill her. There was a trail of blood that led from Athalia’s front porch directly into Allen Stanford’s back yard. More than a few weren’t concerned with Athalia being killed because she was such a bitch that they feel that she deserved what she got.

In March of 1974, there was a blood-stained machete, a watch, and blood-soaked trousers found in a bag in a swamp; the blood on the clothes matched Athalia’s, and the clothes belonged to Stanford. On February 22, 1974, Alan Stanford was arrested and charged with murder. On January 1975, the murder trial commenced. The prosecution had a strong case and a guilty verdict seemed almost certain. Just before closing arguments, Stanford’s defense team called the 19-year old witness to the stand. Despite previously identifying Stanford as the killer, the young man was now unsure of the identity, having never actually seen the assailant’s face. On the day following the killing, a young nurse rode her bicycle as she always did. The police stopped her and questioned her about the murder. The nurse picked out a third suspect, deputy sheriff Dewey Lee, as the killer, further muddling the waters. The jury found Alan Stanford not guilty, despite the mountain of evidence against him. Local authorities were so upset by the verdict that they refused to re-open the case. Even though Stanford was acquitted of the murder, Athalia wound up getting the last laugh in the end, they local county board voted 4 to 1 to fire Stanford due to his lying about his credentials. He wound up leaving town shortly afterward. Today, St. Augustine is different; most who lived on Marine Street during the 1960s and 1970s have either moved away or passed away. Athalia’s house, now a historical landmark, still stands today, a grim reminder of how local resentment can go too far.

the murder of frances bemis

Frances Bemis was a socialite and neighbour of Athalia Ponsell Lindsley who happened to be a close friend of hers. Shortly after Lindsley’s murder, Frances started gathering information in order to write a book about the murder, claiming that she had information on what really happened. On November 3, 1974, she went for an evening walk and disappeared. Her body was found near her house, her skull crushed by a cement block. Her murder has never been solved.

This was the next analysis that I planned to do after the Robert Mitchum one, so I decided to just get this one out of the way.

Stats

birthdate: July 25, 1917*

*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.

major planets:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Libra

Rising: unknown

Mercury: Leo

Venus: Leo

Mars: Gemini

Midheaven: unknown

Jupiter: Gemini

Saturn: Leo

Uranus: Aquarius

Neptune: Leo

Pluto: Cancer

Overall personality snapshot: She had a prestigious, compelling presence, even when she was just clowning around, and a natural ability to command both respect and affection from her friends and colleagues. In the nicest possible way she assumed the position of the leader because she had a strong independent streak and believed in her lofty, worthy ideals, but she also gravitated towards collaboration and an impartial examination of the facts. She could be bossy and yet her bossiness was so diplomatic that it was convincing, even impressive. Although she wanted esteem and tended to identify with honourable goals and people, she could work alongside others she respected and she really wanted the best for everyone. She had style, and she instinctively knew that ‘manners maketh man’ and that, if for some reason they didn’t, they went a long way in making life worth living. When she came into her own, she developed a strongly aesthetic approach to life and are naturally creative. She needed a very positive, active medium through which to express herself, such as drama, teaching or running her own business.

Anything to do with beauty and harmony interested her, such as decorating, design and painting. Her interest in social equality took her into politics or the law. She had a strong sense of herself and stubbornly followed her own personal code of ethics, yet she also enjoyed being part of a group that had a common purpose or bond. She cherished ideals of liberty and equality, but if there were some distasteful tasks to perform she moved very smoothly into the role of delegating – well, she thought, someone has to give the orders around here or we would have no harmony at all. Although she seemed to enjoy an easy, breezy approach to life, there was quite a serious side to her personality, and she could be surprisingly controversial and provocative. She was willing to stand up and be counted, and perhaps make it look easy. She had a natural appreciation and enjoyment of the good things of life; she assumed that they should be hers by birthright. And through cunning charm, calculated boldness, and intelligent maneuver she managed to have plenty.

She was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. She believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although she could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. She had a high opinion of her mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. She was a mentally restless person, both versatile and broad-minded. She experienced personal growth through analysis and using her intellect, although the collection and communication of facts may have been an end within itself. She was a reliable and loyal person. Her will and sense of honour were strong and she was a great organizer. On the downside, her self-assuredness could become dogmatism and imperiousness. Conservatism may have affected her creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. She often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all her forms of expression. She could also take herself so seriously, that people think that she was older than her years.

She belonged to a generation that could be unpredictable in that it liked to instigate change simply for the sake of shaking things up and providing stimulation. Humanitarian ideals became extremely important, as well as the belief in absolute freedom for every individual. She came up with radical new ideas which she stubbornly followed. As a member of this generation, she may have felt deep spiritual convictions, although she may not have seen herself as religious in the traditional sense of the word. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. Members of this generation loved the theater and the cinema, in fact, any sort of creative self-expression. They also believed in the rights of any individual to express themselves. This generation was both idealistic and romantic, selfish and individualistic. Lindsley embodied all of these Leo Neptunian ideals. Also, as a member of the Leo Neptune generation, she experienced and fully embraced changes in sexual mores and attitudes, changing the way people approach the whole issue of romantic relationships. Changes were also experienced in the relationships between parents and children, with the ties becoming looser. She was part of a generation known for its devastating social upheavals concerning home and family. The whole general pattern of family life experiences enormous changes and upheavals; as a Cancer Plutonian, this aspect is highlighted with Lindsley’s father dying relatively young and her having to care for her mother until she died.

Love/sex life: There is never any question as to the ground rules of her erotic universe: what best served her ego, best served her libido. She had a marvelous capacity for enjoying sex but her pride and self-possession always came first. Some people might have found the egotism of this position offensive but many others hardly noticed. After all, a lover as lively, generous and exciting as she had good reason to be proud. There was always a distinctively theatrical quality about her love making. She wanted sex to be a big event, full of drama and intellectual significance. This grandiose approach to sex can certainly be entertaining but it often made her romantic moments seem less than spontaneous. More importantly, real life sex rarely met her cinematic standards. This is one reason why she often found the idea of love much more appealing than its physical manifestations.The sex in her head was never common or clumsy, and she could always count on great reviews.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Capricorn

Lilith: Virgo

Her North Node in Capricorn dictated that she needed to develop the more caring and compassionate side to her personality and try to place less emphasis on the materialistic aspects of her life. Her Lilith in Virgo ensured that she exhibited a Madonna-whore complex; she made her way through the world with her sensational wits and she had no time for constricting judgments. She confronted the grittier facts of life, especially sex. She was good at sex but not as a form of sappy emotional expression.

elemental dominance:

fire

air

She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was be bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves. She was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and she liked to stir things up. She was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. She was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. She carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, she lived in her head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at her best, she helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives.

modality dominance:

fixed

She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.

planet dominants:

Sun

Mars

Pluto

She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life. She was aggressive, individualistic and had a high sexual drive. She believed in action and took action. Her survival instinct was strong. She wanted to take herself to the limit—and then surpass that limit, which she often did. She ultimately refused to compromise her integrity by following another’s agenda. She likely didn’t compare herself to other people and didn’t want to dominate or be dominated. She simply wanted to be free to follow her own path, whatever it was. She brought about complete and profound transformations in her life, good or bad (and it was often bad). She felt the need to let go of what was familiar to her and accept new and different ways of being and doing things. There were areas in her life where she had to accept regeneration, which involved the destruction of the old and the creation of the new.

sign dominants:

Leo

Gemini

Cancer

She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At her best, she was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that will expand their communities. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form.

Read more about her under the cut.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a former model, Broadway performer, actress, dancer and television personality who died in a savage late-afternoon attack at her home on Jan. 23, 1974. Wife of the once mayor of St. Augustine, James "Jinx" Lindsley, who died a few years after her death. Mrs. Athalia Lindsley was very active politically.

She also took in many animals, such as dogs, cats and even two goats. At the time of her murder, she was outside trying to rehabilitate one of her rescue birds, a blue jay named Clementine which had an injured wing. She had rescued the little bird from neighborhood cats.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a very devoted daughter who took care of her mother full time until her mother passed away.

She was 58 years old when her life was brutally cut short.

A neighbor and local politician was the only person ever arrested and tried for her murder, after a very dramatic trial, a jury found the defendant not guilty, and he was acquitted

(x)

[jawritter]

The Art Of Letting Go

Summary: You though you were searching for Demon!Dean to help Sammy cure his brother. When you do find him, Dean shows you just exactly what you’ve been looking for.

Created for: @spndarkbingo

Square Field: Dub Con

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, Demon!Dean (yes, he has his own warning), slight angst, dub con, language, spn level violence, I think that’s it...

A/N: This fic was beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks hun! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my MASTERLIST! Still want more? BECOME A PATREON, and get exclusive fics and make request!! 

People are affected by things differently. No one processes trauma the same way. Some people close up completely. They refuse to talk about what they’ve been through, and shut themselves off to everyone around them. Some people chose therapy. They choose a professional stranger as a way to vent, or get it off their chest. Some people get violent and want to seek revenge for whatever happened to them, whether that be to a person, group of people, or just the universe in general. 

You’ve seen it all. This life, it had very few secrets left for people in your line of work. You’ve seen them cry, kill themselves, go bat shit crazy and murder everyone they were ever attached too. You’ve seen them lock themselves in the house and refuse to come outside again. 

You often wondered what had happened to that girl. She was such a good hunter. She had finally come across the one thing she couldn’t handle mentally. You were pretty sure it would happen to you one day as well. 

In all the things you’ve seen, in all the horrors you’ve experienced, in all the shit you’ve hunted, you’ve never seen anything that held a candle to Dean Winchester. He once was a damn good hunter,  a friend, but had now turned demon. You know it was the mark that had turned him, and what it was doing to him that made him who he was today, but to say he was handling the trauma from his past life as a human to now swimmingly was bullshit. He literally took all the trauma he’d been through in his life, channeled the anger, took on the fucking mark of Cain and died  and became a demon. You didn’t give a shit what Sam said. Dean had done it on purpose. 

At least he was creative? 

You and Dean  had never been very close, but in all fairness, Dean was only ever close to a handful full of people. You? Hell, you were just another hunter. Not someone he was ever attached too. Not that he had time to even really get to know you anyway. You grew up in one of the many hunting compounds, and you joined about a month before Dean became the beast you were currently hunting. 

You had always idolized Dean in a way. You had heard all the stories over the years growing up, and you always wanted to work with him, meet him. Now? Fuck, now you were hunting the very man you swore that one day, you’d work along side him to save the world. Funny how that shit turned out. 

Sam swore he could cure Dean. You remain unconvinced. Either way, the problem at the moment was finding the bastard. Years of hunting when he was human made Dean damn near impossible to find, and you were pretty sure he was leaving the pair of you a trail of breadcrumbs that literally had you going  around in circles. 

“What, Sam?” You growled in the phone that wouldn’t stop ringing on the seat next to you. It had been ringing almost non-stop for the past thirty minutes, and you didn’t know how to tell him that you still hadn’t found his brother, and  were pretty sure you were never going to find him. 

“Y/N, listen, I just got some video footage from a convenience store about 30 minutes north of where you are right now. Dean was seen there.He beat a man to death with a skin mag. Can you check the local bars and strip clubs, see if you can find him?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, thankful that Sam was unable to see it. This was a first. Dean in his demon form, decided to beat the poor ass hole to death with a fucking porn magazine. He had a knife that was very capable to do the job for him, but this just proved there may be more of the old Dean still in here than you wanted to admit out loud. It took all the self control you had left in you not to burst into hysterical laughter, or ask Sam to send you the footage so you can laugh, and not be judged for it later. 

“I’ll check it out Sam, but I’m starting to think we’re not going to see Dean again in person unless he wants to be found.” 

The resounding silence on the other end was hard to read. You couldn’t tell if you were actually getting through to him with reason alone, or if he was just as done  as you were looking for Dean. 

“Just… Just try, okay?” Sam pleaded, and you could literally hear the fucking puppy dog eyes in his voice through the phone, damn him. 

“Okay, there’s a bar about five miles from me. I’ll start there and If I find anything I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Y/N, I really couldn’t do this without you,” he says, letting go the breath he was obviously holding. 

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it Winchester,” you tell him before hanging up on him. He’d said enough for tonight, and a few strip joints and bars were all you were willing to do before finding a place to crash for a while. Dean may be a demon, but you were still human and needed at least another four hours before continuing this wild goose chase. 

You couldn’t deny as you pulled up in front of the old dive bar, that it was just the kind of place the Dean you know would have chosen to hang out in. You could hear the crappy country music blaring even outside in the parking lot, and there were plenty of blondes walking around in cut off shorts to choses from, adding a nice Backwoods appeal to the place that would have drawn the elder Winchester in like flies to horseshit. 

Human Dean was predictable, and you missed that. The only question that remained  was just how much of the man was still inside the  monster. 

As soon as your boots hit the gravel outside your car, a cold chill shot down your spine, throwing your hunter instincts into high gear. You didn’t haven’t even have time to grab your angel blade before your body was pinned to the outside of your Mustang with enough force to knock the wind out of you. The smell of sulfur assaulted your senses, and a scent you knew all too well… Dean.

You could feel the cold steal of the first blade pressing into the thin fabric of your flannel, and you shivered involuntarily at the hot breath that smelled of  beer, sulfur, and spearmint gum fanning over your face, Dean’s strong calloused hand had a tight grip around your throat, while the other held your hands behind your back as if you were nothing more than a blowup doll. No form of shaking, kicking, or moving at all seemed to be able to break his inhuman hold. 

“You know sweetheart, you and my little brother are getting on my last fucking nerve. I told you both to let me go, and what do you do? You chase me across the country like a fucking bitch in heat, all at the request of Sammy.” 

You swallow around the lump that was in your throat as best you could with Dean’s hand holding your neck, tight enough to leave a bruise. You knew he’d been leaving a trail for you, you weren’t an idiot, but you didn’t expect him to be so… well, Dean. You expected a stupid demon, like the hundreds you’d sent back to hell before him. Boy, were you wrong. 

“Then why don’t you just fucking kill me, Dean?” You asked him, knowing that if he wanted you dead you’d already would be, especially if he knew you were tailing him. “If I’m that much of a fucking pest, why didn’t you just handle it three states back?”

An inhuman growl sounded close to your ear, and you felt his solid chest vibrate on your back, his hand tighten around your neck, cutting off most of your air supply. 

You could feel your body responding to his administration, even though you knew it was wrong. The sheer, raw power that seemed to be pouring from his grip on your hand had slick gathering in your underwear and there wasn’t shit you could do about it. 

“Why should I do you that favor hun, Y/N, when you and I could have so much fun together.” 

Dean’s hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear, closely followed by his teeth, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine, and to your horror, more arousal pooling between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” you gritted back at him, determined to fight against this senseless attraction to the very thing you were trained to hunt and kill from birth. 

This is wrong, this is wrong…

No matter how much you repeated it to yourself, the fast growing bulge in Dean’s jeans against your ass had your cunt squeezing around nothing, begging the fucking demon to fill you up, stretch you in a way you’d only fantasised  about. Knowing the human Dean was packing, and a god of man that seemed to drip sex on bowed legs? What woman with a pulse wouldn’t think about it? 

“See, your lips are saying fuck off, but that little pussy of yours? Well, it’s saying come to Daddy.” 

Dean’s hot tongue licked from the shell of your ear to your jawline, and you had to bite down hard on your lip to stifle the moan that was right on the edge of your lips. His hand that had been holding your throat slipped down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping into your panties with ease, wasting no time in slipping two thick digits into your soaking folds, toying with your entrance. 

A deep chuckle ripped through his throat when he felt just how wet you were, and damn it if his fingers didn’t already have you on the edge of oblivion as they slipped into your cunt, pumping and curling slowly. You fought against the overwhelming urge to grind down against his hand to get the friction you needed from him.

This is wrong, this is wrong…

“Look at you,” the demon said, grinding his full denim covered erection against your ass as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, hitting your G-spot with terrifying precision. “So fucking wet and needy. How many times have imagined these dirty little fingers of yours were mine, baby? How many times have you cum moaning my name, like your doing right now? Better keep it down or you're going to get us caught, and you won't get to cum.”

You hadn’t realized all the noise you’d been making until he’d pointed it out, but here you were, all but saying his name like a prayer as your legs began to shake, the coil in your stomach winding painfully tight. 

“Dean, please,” you begged him, unsure if you wanted him to stop, because you knew this was so fucking wrong. You didn’t fuck demons, this wasn’t you, but be  fucked if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Dean was playing your body like a fiddle, and you were helplessly grinding down on his hands as he increased the speed of his fingers. 

“Please what, Y/N?” he said, chuckling as you did all you could not to fall over the edge he had you teetering on. “It’s all you sweetheart, all you gotta do is let go.” 

You shook your head no as he laughed again, sinking his teeth into your pulse point  hard enough to make you almost cum right there, but you refused to do it, you just couldn’t do it.

This is wrong, this is WRONG!

“You know what your problem is Y/N? You are always SO FUCKING TENSE! All the fucking time. You walk around like you got this big stick up your ass, and a chip on your shoulder. I did the same for a long fucking time, but you know what baby girl, I’m gonna do you a favor. I’m gonna teach you the art of letting go, and we’re gonna start right here in this parking lot. Now, cum.” 

Dean added his thumb against your throbbing clit, and as if on command from some invisible force, you came hard enough to blur your vision. The coil in your stomach snapped as your pussy clenched around his thick digits, your juices running down his hand and soaking your panties further. He worked you through your release until your body fell lax against the car, and your breath came out in short pants as you tried to stand on shaking legs. 

“Hope you're not too tired yet bitch, that was just lesson one.” Dean said, turning you around to meet cole black eyes, and a smirk carved by the devil himself. 

You knew this was wrong, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to get away from him now, so you might as well sit back and learn how to let go and enjoy the ride.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles-37-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​ @teresa-67​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @hearteyes-j2​ @miss-nerd95​

[amalia-uwu]

BRINEYBEARD'S REVENGE

A Casino cups fanfic written by amelia2001

_________

CASINO CUPS BELONGS TO BRIGHTGOAT AND CAMODIEL @brightgoat @camodielsart @askcupsandcasinos

@camodiel

______

Part 2 Part 3

Warnings : blood, injury, angst,swearing

Brineybeard using binoculars looked at her direction. He recognized her.

He had finally spotted her and he could have his revenge.. His ship came closer, an evil smirk on his face, the breeze caressed his face.

Mugman let go of Cala's hand. He felt something....perilous looming. He looked behind him. He let go of her waist and climbed in the boat so he could take a better look. A ship appeared, that was clearly Brineybeard's ship... But... What was he doing here?

Cala looked at Mugman "Mugman? Is everything okay?" she asked. Mugman said "Isn't that Brineybeard's ship?". She looked at the direction he was seeing. "Yes.. What is this bastard doing here?" she asked angrily yet concerned.. She didn't want to risk Mugman's life. «Drat! Can't I enjoy a moment with my man in peace for once...?» she thought.

However, she sensed that this time something bad is gonna happen..

Mugman heard the sound of something being fired..  He had seen the arrow coming.. Cala hadn't.. "LOOK OUT!!" He pushed her out of the way and the arrow scratched his arm. A few drops of blood fell.. Inside the sea. He held his forearm and squeezed his eyes shut  "ARGH!!" Mugman clenched his teeth.

Cala  came out of the sea "Mugman?! Wha.." She said. Then she noticed the blood "Mugman let me see!" she said trying to stay calm. On the inside he wanted to rip that pirate's head of his neck... How dare he?..

Mugman removed his other hand and let her see the wound. "It's just a scratch.. Don't worry... Are you okay?" he said.

"Yes I'm fine thank you!" she said..

....

However a net was thrown and caught Cala. "What the-?!" She shrieked and mugman tried to help her. "Mugman?!" she yelled. "MUGMAN?!" she screamed trying to break free from  her captor,

"LET GO OF ME YOU STUPID NET!" Mugman was determined to save her and so  he yelled "I will save you just hold on!"

He climbed from the ship's ropes and entered inside.

Back to Cuphead

Cuphead wasn't himself. He was upset.. King Dice could say that... The others had understood that something was wrong. Cuphead wasn't like this..

King Dice said to the others "Something is wrong with him.. He is never that quite!.. Wheezy.. Come with me.. I got one more plan.."

Cuphead was picking up the dishes quietly.. Then cleaned up the tables,

King Dice said "Hey! Cuphead!". Cuphead looked at his direction. King Dice and wheezy burned a dollar in front of him... However Cuphead didn't react..

.....

Okay that's scary...King Dice took him from the shoulder.. "Who are you and what have you done to Cuphead?" he said..

Cuphead said "I worry about Mugman.. What if something bad happened to him?"

Dice's eyes softened.. " It's gonna be okay Cuphead... Medea(*) gave me this in case something bad happens" he pulled out a small bottle with a blue substance.

[(*) note : for the needs of this story. Devil does not exist. Medea a powerful witch is the owner of the Casino.]

Cuphead nodded "Thanks" he said.

Back to Mugman

Brineybeard pulled up the net.  "Finally gotcha you little bitch!" He threw her violently on the floor, went behind her and held her violently on the ground. He tied her, grabbed her hair and brought his face close to hers. "For years I've been waiting for this moment! Its all your fault I lost my crew and my legs! You have the eyes and beauty of an angel but its time to show people the true demon within you! You sea witch! I will kill you and your blood shall be justice for me and my crew!! You can fool  anyone you want! BUT I won't be fooled twice! " he spat venom in his voice.

Mugman, who had  climbed from the ropes in the ship, carefully walked behind him.

Brineybeard was about to kill her. He raised his blade and her green eyes reflected on the blade "Finally I got you.. you fucking witch!" she closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable.

*WHOOSH *

*CLANK*

Mugman had found a sword on the deck and took it to block the attack "what?! Who dares?!" Brineybeard said clenching his teeth in anger 💢 "Leave my love alone!" Mugman said determination in his eyes! "Get out of the way kid! You don't know with what you are messing!" Mugman held his ground "over my dead body you will hurt her!"

Brineybeard smiled "which is exactly what I'm going to do!"

Mugman fought with him.  Their swords collided "You wanna play the hero kid? You are nothing without your powers! Indeed you stopped me once... Years ago... Now you are nothing!

NOTHING BUT

A MORTAL!"

... That's it.. Brineybeard you said a forbidden word...

Their swords collided, Mugman jumped out of the way. The sword hit the wood resulting in it to be stuck. Mugman found the chance and hit Brineybeard on the back of his head sending him unconscious. He ran next to her, he freed her "You okay?" he asked. She nodded. Brineybeard came around,

He took his sword and slowly sneaked behind Mugman. He raised the blade and stabbed him. Noone had the chance to react...

Mugman's eyes widen in shock as the blade pierced his porcelain chest. "GAH! *GASP *. His mouth opened his eye widen in shock, Cala covered her mouth in shock some of his blood was spilled on her face.

Mugman held the blade. His blood oozed. His chest heaved and  brineybeard whispered in his ear " I'VE BEEN WAITING TOO LONG FOR MY REVENGE!! MUGBOY I. WON'T. LET. YOU. RUIN IT! ".  He then threw him across the ship.  Mugman fell down and laid on the deck his blood oozed creating a puddle beneath him.

His shirt and vest darkened. He gasped for air, *.. hack... hack ... ha..ck..h..a..c..k..* his eyes laid on Cala..

He stretched his hand.. However his strength abandoned him and soon he went slack.. Darkness embraced him..

«I don't want to die... I... I... Cala.. Cuphead... Help me... I don't want to die... I... I..» he thought and everything went dark.

End of part 3

Thank you for reading!

Part 4

[shrinkthisviolet]

Who would the Cobra Kai’s Characters counterparts be from Avatar: The Last Airbender & Legend Of Korra? Like which Avatar character is most like a character from Cobra Kai personality wise? The main parallels that I can see are:

Kreese = Firelord Ozai

Johnny = Zuco

I love to hear your thoughts on this.

Keep in mind, these aren’t perfect parallels, and some of the ships don’t work with the swap, but this is more about the characters anyway.

I actually think Ozai fits Silver better, while Zhao fits Kreese! It’s not quite the same dynamic, since Kreese and Silver are on much more equal footing than Ozai and Zhao, but Silver is a much more formidable opponent to Daniel than Kreese. Neither of them really try to win over anyone’s trust, but Zhao does at least pretend to be on the same side as Zuko, just as Kreese does for Johnny.

Sam = Katara! They both have that instinct to nurture before anything else, to protect the ones they love, and they will throw down for their friends if they must (and they’re unafraid of a tussle!).

Daniel = Aang! Both have the instinct to help, to give of themselves, and when they act recklessly, it usually has disastrous fallout (Aang because he’s the Avatar, Daniel because he overcorrects). Tho Daniel’s fuse is shorter than Aang’s for sure 😂

Miguel = Sokka! Both are seemingly the comic relief on the outside, but they struggle a lot with not feeling good enough (mostly in S3 for Miguel, due to his injury). And it’s interesting that Sokka and Mai are both nonbenders on opposites sides, while Miguel and Robby are star karate students on opposite sides 👀

Robby = Definitely Mai. Wanna talk about absent parents and a teen feeling like they need to raise themselves and hide away all vulnerabilities because every show of it just gets them hurt? FITS THEM BOTH TO A TEE! And they’re both “betrayed” by someone they thought they could trust with their heart: Robby with the LaRussos, and Mai with Zuko (tho in both cases, the offenders regret pushing Robby/Mai away and try to make up for it).

Demetri = Toph, as strange as it sounds! It’s not quite the same, since Toph doesn’t let anyone bully her, but she is constantly underestimated by everyone around her. She’s taught a new way of fighting that works for her, just like Demetri is, and it’s different from the norm (Demetri doesn’t vibe with MD teachings, so Daniel has to adapt. Toph can’t learn to earthbend the traditional way, so she learns from someone who understands–the blind badgermoles!). And ofc they have an epic moment, like Demetri throwing Hawk into a trophy case, and Toph freeing herself with metalbending, that cements their confidence!

Hawk = I guess Jet could fit here! Both of them get a bad rep from some parts of the fandom, they both initially befriend Miguel/Sokka, and they do things that Miguel/Sokka take personally (Jet wants to flood a village filled with civilians, Hawk becomes more violent and even breaks Demetri’s arm). They also both “flip the script” after some kind of trauma: Eli’s sick of being bullied, and Jet wants revenge on the people who killed his parents. They ALSO both have a sort of redemption arc: Hawk in 3x10, and Jet in Ba Sing Se when he’s trying to turn his life around! Tho Jet’s got cut WAY too short, dying just as he was helping the Gaang and TRULY letting go of his painful past.

Tory = Okay hear me out: Suki. Both girls have huge responsibilities on their shoulders (Tory’s family, Suki’s Warriors), and both are kindhearted. However, Suki is able to show that kindness much more than Tory because her Warriors are her equals. She’s trained them, they can match her, she knows they have her back. Tory doesn’t have anyone like that, except Aisha (who, incidentally, receives the most of Tory’s kindness!). Sam would probably get it too, if not for their rivalry. Suki and Katara obviously don’t have an antagonistic relationship, but 🤷‍♀️ I don’t agree with what Tory did in 2x10 (especially her exclusively blaming Sam) or 3x10, but can we PLEASE talk about what an AWESOME Kyoshi Warrior she’d be??

Aisha = Yue! The calm, levelheaded one who’s written off way too early and is mainly used in service of someone else’s story because she would totally shorten the plot of the show otherwise? Yep! And if you think Aisha was ever treated like a main character: let me ask you: what do we know about her? She’s rich, she’s Sam’s friend, Tory’s friend, Miguel’s friend...see what I’m getting at? We know nothing about her as a person! Same for Yue–she’s the Moon’s vessel, the Chief’s daughter, Sokka’s girlfriend...we know nothing about her as person! Hopefully the S4 writers fix that for Aisha, she deserves it!

Yasmine = Azula fits this one to a tee. Popular girl who does what she wants and doesn’t fear the consequences? Has an iron grip over the school/country, every whim at her command? Come on. We also see that she has the potential for goodness...one day in the future, through a very carefully written growth arc (for Azula, that would obviously be her own journey of self-discovery away from the Gaang. Let her find herself!!)

Moon = Ty Lee! Sweet on the outside, usually underestimated, but fierce on the inside. Remember when Ty Lee took down powerful benders with chi-blocking? Remember when Moon broke up with Hawk because she couldn’t stand his aggressiveness? Plus, there’s that sapphic subtext to consider from Ty Lee 👀

[bansheeoftheforest]

A Moment Of Glory

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Chapter 7; Parva Sub Ingenti

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Chapter 8 babyyyyyyyyyyy! Oh man, the next chapters to come are not going to be fun for Henry. I also had to rewrite this chapter like... Halfway through finishing the third-to-last chapter bc I realized that this route would be better to go with <3

Also, note, in case I did not make it clear in the actual chapter: it’s a week’s timeskip between this chapter and last chapter!

Also also! Since I have written all chapters now, I would not mind to update more frequently if that would be desired! Either I can hold onto the schedule I have rn (twice a week - Wednesday and Saturday) or I can change it so I update three times a week, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday? I would very much like some opinions on how often to update!

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Wordcount: 4300

Chapter summary: Brokenshire and the Scotland Yard come to a disappointing discovery, but waste no time in following a new lead.

CW [for this chapter]: Mentions of blood, mentions of murder.

[Ao3]

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Chapters:

[Prologue] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [Epilogue]

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Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire, a man who so often took pride in the loyalty and hard work he put into his position in the Scotland Yard, did not like his night duty. 

 He sat by his lone desk, elbows placed upon the only empty space on his messy workspace that was not already occupied by paperwork. The only source of light that found itself in the dark office was a flickering flame from a tiny, half-melted candle that was placed next to him, so bravely and so obediently bringing light to the documents that had caught his sole attention. For once, it was completely quiet. Not even the normal noises from the world going on and on outside could be heard tonight; no drunkards laughing their way home from the pubs, no footsteps from late-night wanderers exploring the streets, not even the sound of other officers standing guard outside seemed to find its way into the office. Had Brokenshire not long since gotten accustomed to the eerie silence that so specifically seemed to haunt him tonight, he might have found the loneliness and the quietness a bit depressing, a bit bleak. Perhaps it was merely because he had one of the most boring, yet most important jobs tonight. Perhaps it was merely because he was waiting. Perhaps it was merely because he was alone.

 Of every late-night duty he could have gotten, Brokenshire got the unfortunate luck of being stuck in his office for the evening. He could have been out wandering the corridors of this very station, maybe checking on one of the few currently held in the cells in the basements, or maybe he could have been patrolling the streets with Wipple and Jenkins like he normally did. Maybe he could have been breaking up gang fights, catching thieves, or inspecting the new shipments and arrivals by the docks and train stations in search of stolen goods, but no, he was stuck waiting for his two colleagues. A soft sigh of boredom escaped his lips, and yet he decided to occupy his time by gazing over the many documents laid upon his so often neat desk, the shiny wooden surface now hidden under dozens of chaotically sprawled papers. His eyes traveled, and yet it did not take long until his gaze was caught by a single photograph that displayed none other than Dr. Henry Jekyll, stapled to a short investigative essay about the doctor’s career in London, written and documented in hopes of getting a bit of insight about the whole case. Through the two weeks that had recently passed since his estimated disappearance, it felt like they hadn’t managed to get a single step closer to figuring out what had happened to him, who did it and where he was currently located. They could find no possible motives; after all, Dr. Jekyll was a beloved man. No one seemed to have any ideas of someone who had actively disliked him, rather than his work and connection to yet-so-stigmatized science, yet they were stuck on the single ‘suspect’ they had gotten from finding branded trinkets on the crime scene. They had interrogated practically every single person that had lived on the streets by the Society, and yet there hadn’t been a single witness, not a single trail to follow-- not even the blood that had so horrifyingly splattered upon almost every surface in the entire study had been found anywhere outside of the room, not in the corridors outside nor by the broken window. It seemed like the doctor had just disappeared in thin air, once he was, assumingly, dragged out of that window. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense at all and yet this wasn’t even one of the most gruesome or violent cases the Sergeant had gotten his hands on, no, but it was still so very unnerving, maybe because of the specific circumstances, maybe because it was specifically Dr. Jekyll everything was about. No matter, it was unnerving regardless and Brokenshire was going to stand by that fact, and yet he couldn’t help but let out another sigh. Another sigh among the thousands he had made just this night. Another sigh among the thousands to come.

 He felt how his eyes began to roam once more, and yet they did not wander for long before they were caught by a second photograph; this one displayed the second subject of the mess of his desk, one Mr. Richard Crawford. Having found his name-engraved jewelry on the crime scene, the opposition, aggression, and hatred that Crawford harbored for the Society for Arcane Sciences had only seemed to confirm their suspicion of him as a suspect, and since there were no more suspects at all, he was currently their main lead as well, yet Brokenshire doubted that Crawford had a vendetta against Dr. Jekyll himself, rather than their two opposing beliefs and opinions. There had been a lot of theories for why Crawford would have wanted Jekyll out of the way, some including the simple fact that Jekyll was probably the only other man in all of London as popular and influential as him, some including their clashing opinions in important political and scientific questions, and yet, through their feud, it had seemed like their rivalry had been quite one-sided. Brokenshire and his team had spent the last two weeks researching both men and their rivalry and at this point, the Sergeant was quite sure that he could give a ten-page essay for each topic respectively. Crawford was about a decade older than Jekyll and had therefore been in the public eye much longer. He was a working aristocrat and a businessman, having funded many of London’s most successful businesses, spanning from medical supply companies to breweries to real estate, and it seemed like he had seen the rise of Dr. Jekyll’s career as a threat to his own. It was not a secret that most of London and the people of power in the city were-- or had been-- against science, so while Crawford had been on top of the food chain for years, the establishment and success of the Society seemed to have struck a nerve of some sort, especially so once Crawford’s allies began to support it. It seemed like Crawford had seen that as a type of betrayal, and had come to the “clever” solution of trying to shut the operation down immediately, and yet he had never managed. It seemed like no matter what Crawford threw at Jekyll, the doctor would catch it with a smile on his face, light it on fire and toss it in the trash. No matter what the aristocrat did, Brokenshire couldn’t find a single instance of Dr. Jekyll doing anything to actively harm Crawford, his image, or his businesses, despite everything the latter did to him. 

 He guessed it was just another instance of what a goodhearted man that Jekyll was, of course. Ask anyone on the street and they would all tell you what a great man the doctor was, and it always seemed like every single person in London had a story about how the scientist had personally helped them, their family, or their friends. The only ones that Brokenshire and his team had heart talking badly about him had, of course, been the few people still against the Society, and yet it had never really been about his character rather than the entire idea of the Society. Everyone knew the doctor was a kind, helpful man who just wished everyone well. Men of his stock were, sadly, few and far in between, and it saddened the Sergeant to know that people were willing to hurt such a good man like that. He could not figure out why someone would do such a thing-- sure, Jekyll had made mistakes, but who hadn’t? He doubted that the doctor could have done anything to anger someone to the point of them thinking the only logical solution was to hurt him, abduct him, murder him. Sure, there were probably people mad at Hyde who decided to take it out on Jekyll, but that made no sense at all. After all, Jekyll had been just as much of a victim of the fire and Hyde’s scheme as everyone else had been. Going after Hyde’s ex-employer after leading the Scotland Yard to the Blackfog Bazaar was absolutely absurd, yet a type of revenge that Brokenshire would not put past the many criminals that lurked in the London Underground.

 Really, the reason why the offenders could have done it was completely unimportant. What was important was the fact that Dr. Henry Jekyll was gone, and they had to find both him and his kidnappers as soon as possible. Hell, Jekyll could be dying or very badly injured at this very moment! Who knew what kind of torture, what kind of sadistic treatment he was suffering through? Who knew if he was even alive still? Who knew if he even was in London at all? Who knew what kind of man he would be if he was found? For every day that passed, the probability that he would be found and found alive plummeted heavily, the odds and statistics were against them. They had to be quick, so very quick, and yet...

 Brokenshire’s hands found the edge of his desk as he pushed his chair away quite abruptly, grunting as he got on his legs and turned his head away from all these godforsaken documents, feeling the clinically white paper blinding him in the dim light. He made a beeline towards one of the few windows in his office, quietly running a hand through his ginger locks as he peaked between the blinds, observing, watching, praying that his goddamn colleagues would come back soon. It was dark, yet it was brighter out there than it was in his office, giving him just enough light to be able to decipher anything going on outside. The streets were empty, the night was quiet... Goddamnit, where were they?

 He sighed and shook his head, mostly to try to get rid of the slight paranoia and weariness that began to grip him. He moved away from the window, feeling how all the energy in his legs only got worse and worse for every second, and he almost could not stop himself as he began to pace around the office, trying to pass time and trying to distract himself as it only seemed like all his energy got worse and worse and worse for every second that passed. Jenkins and Wipple should have been here a long time ago. What could possibly have taken them so long? They didn’t have all night!

 Brokenshire was an impatient man as it was, he knew that. He seldom had the patience to wait for something unimportant and he had particularly no patience for things that were important. The fact that Wipple and Jenkins had been sent out to collect documents, proof of possible evidence of Crawford’s involvement in Jekyll’s kidnapping that could either incriminate him or prove him innocent of the whole ordeal... Sure, they had his jewelry, but that was certainly not enough proof to arrest him just yet. They needed more... More proof of Crawford’s suspicious behavior, proof that he was not above kidnapping, proof that he was not a man to be trusted. Two weeks of research, two weeks of potentially wasted and precious time amounted to this. Two weeks of quietly investigating Crawford, sinking so much time and so many resources in a potential dead-end... They were hoping to find the evidence they needed to arrest Crawford, after all, they hoped that he was the criminal in all of this, the orchestrator to the entire kidnapping and especially since they had no other leads, but for that, they needed definite proof, proof that Jenkins and Wipple had been in charge of, and if they never showed up...

 The Sergeant rubbed his sore eyes, regretfully feeling how the late-night weariness slowly began to get to him, slowly washing over his body like algae clinging to every surface, only seeming to become worse and worse and more and more in quantity the longer you didn’t pay attention. He had been working on this case non-stop for the last two weeks, having barely gotten any rest at all during that time, and yet it was much less because he couldn’t pawn the case off to someone else while he took his normal days off and got the rest he so desperately needed, it was much less the work piling up and being forced upon him because there was no one else to take the case, no, it was mostly the fact that he wanted to get to the bottom of this as fast as possible, and he wanted to be the one in charge of such an important case. He trusted his colleagues with his life and yet he only trusted himself with the Henry Jekyll case, even if he wasn’t fully sure why. Everyone was worried, of course, so he had no doubt that the other officers would be just as precise and active with the case as he currently was, but... Yeah. Jekyll was a beloved man, a man who was friends with practically everyone-- the commissioner specifically, but Brokenshire could not deny that he had taken a liking to that man, as much as he regretted admitting it. He knew the cautionary tale of scientists who went mad with hubris, narcissism, and... Well, madness all too well. He knew the tale of the bright young men and women who wanted to test the limits of every aspect of the world they lived in, who wanted to understand how things worked and wanted to manipulate it into their own liking, who only got hungry for more and more until they went insane and could find themselves in the Asylums all of them seemed to fear so, or until they found themselves exiled and on the run from the law. After all, Brokenshire had known Moreau once upon an eternity ago; he had been just as respectable of a gentleman as Jekyll was, then Moreau had shown his true colors, got exiled, and now he spent the last of his days stuck in a padded cell under solitary confinement and burnt to a crisp in Bethlam Royal Asylum. He knew that there seldom were scientists who did not go mad in their own way-- everyone knew the story of Frankenstein, even if she did seem... Relatively sane now, she had still caused catastrophic damage to the people around her, innocent people specifically, and Moreau was already mentioned... The odds that Jekyll and his Society, too, were just as mad as the rest of the scientists that had made and snuck their way into the history books were far too high. Respectable facades and silver-tongued speech were all they needed to trick practically everyone, both of which Henry Jekyll undoubtedly had. Impulsive, uncontrollable, testing the limits of reality while claiming that it was for the betterment of society, humanity as a whole. It was a tale Brokenshire knew all too well and yet Jekyll had done a good job of pushing himself away from any and all possibilities that he was like those scientists. They were rogue scientists, he would say, not mad scientists.

 Oh, it was a speech that the sergeant had heard a handful of times already, yet it was almost endearing, and quite charming after a while. He guessed that was just the effect the doctor had on the people around him. He was a charming man and no one could deny that. He had all of London wrapped around his pinkie, spun and held together with the silken thread he had woven with his silver-tongue, and that had been quite obvious, and it still was. After all, people had been outraged over his disappearance, and they could still hear the people of London making a ruckus and demanding that they find the doctor they all loved so much. Many of Jekyll’s friends had offered to put up rewards for whoever could come forward with any possible statements or for whoever could find the doctor, and with many, he meant many; Dr. Robert Lanyon, Sr. Lanyon, Sir. Danvers Carew, the commissioner himself, and of course the entire Society, and that was only to name a few, so there was quite a large sum of money at play now. So much money was at stake and yet they still had heard nothing related to the Henry Jekyll case. No one had seen suspicious activity, no one had any clue what possibly could have caused it... You might as well have thought he disappeared in thin air just because someone wished him gone, for no reason whatsoever. You might as well have thought the doctor never existed. 

 The only real ‘evidence’ and the only real statements they had about the case came from their investigation of Crawford. They had dipped their noses in practically every part of Crawford’s life, investigating and interrogating every servant, worker, acquaintance, business partner, and rival with a connection to the man in question, their statements now placed upon the sergeant’s desk, neatly waiting for when they would be of use. All they needed was Jenkins and Wipple with the rest of the accounts and statements, and hopefully they would bring the long-awaited truth. They all had theories, of course, both personal and more... Hmm, official ones, so to speak, all of which suggested that the kidnapping of Henry Jekyll was not the only crime that Crawford may be involved in, many of which seemed to be about tax evasion, blackmail... The classic stuff that men of his stock often dipped into sooner or later. Now, if Jenkins and Wipple could just come back...

 Knockknockknock--

 Speaking of the devil, Brokenshire couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath he hadn’t known he had been holding as he finally stopped his pace. His attention immediately shifted towards his door, and it only took a moment before he saw the door handle moving, and then through the darkness, Brokenshire finally-- finally!-- saw his dear colleagues entering, the expected documents in hand.

 “Oi, sergeant, why are you cooping up in the darkness?”

 As Jenkins moved forward with the documents, Wipple stayed behind to close the door behind them, taking the opportunity to also turn on the light, which, in its turn, successfully blinded the poor sergeant whose eyes had gotten so accustomed to the soft, simple light from the candle on his desk. He did not get a lot of time to adjust to it, however, as Jenkins soon placed the new documents down on the little empty space on the sergeant’s desk that had not been occupied with paperwork and, instead, occupied it with more documents. Brokenshire watched the papers, then his gaze turned to Jenkins, who looked less than proud of the work they presented. His thin lips and mustache curled into a frown, the disappointment in his sigh seemed to echo through the room.

 “You are not going to believe this, sir.”

 “Well, what is it? Did you find anything?”

 “Well... You are not going to like it.” 

 The three of them surrounded the desk, waddling together so everyone could have a good view of the newly added documents. Brokenshire eyed it up and down with great interest, if not suspicion and caution, yet he was quick to look back up at Jenkins, quietly gesturing for him to continue to explain.

 “Crawford has been actively against the Society, as we knew, but his way of sabotaging, as we theorized, is nowhere near illegal.” Jenkins filtered through the documents until he got a specific page, tapping it with his finger against the headlines, and them moving the tip of his finger down to the summary, “According to his bank statements, the only money that has been taken out and put into anything remotely against science as been into perfectly legal campaigns, some of just so happens to affect the Society, would the things they push for actually go through. Other than that... The only proof we have is the jewelry found on the scene. Sure, yeah, it’s clear proof but it’s nothing we can arrest or accuse him with. It’s practically impossible for the jewelry to have found its way into the office...”

 Brokenshire might as well have thought he got a door slammed into his face.

 Their main suspect turned out to be a dead end. All the work, all the time, and all the funds they had put into investigating Crawford turned into a dead-end, and now they came up empty-handed without a new suspect.

 But... That didn’t explain why his jewelry was in Jekyll’s workspace.

 “Well... Do either of you have any idea why the ring and necklace were in the office otherwise?”

 Wipple and Jenkins stayed silent, glancing at each other for a short second, yet they quickly looked back at Brokenshire and seemed to struggle to come up with a logical answer to such a question. So many things could have made the jewelry appear where they did, yet none of them actually seemed as logical as... Well, the theory that Crawford paid some thugs to get Dr. Jekyll out of the game, although having paid them with jewelry-- specifically name engraved jewelry-- was certainly not the most logical option, either. The thought that Dr. Jekyll might have stolen the trinkets didn’t even cross their minds, the thought that Dr. Jekyll might have planted them there seemed too absurd for any of them to even consider it, the thought of Dr. Jekyll having faked the entire thing would probably be the dumbest thing either of them would have thought in years. Dr. Jekyll was gone, he was kidnapped, there had been blood everywhere in the office and the blood might have dried into the wood at this point. Red crimson that coagulated and stained into the mahogany wood was a reminder of what Jekyll, in this very moment, might be suffering through, a reminder that if they weren’t quick, Jekyll’s blood might not have only stained his office. 

 But... Hold on...

 “What if it wasn’t Crawford who planted them there?” Jenkins suddenly spoke up, you could practically see the lightbulb shining over his head as the idea struck him. Both Wipple and Brokenshire furrowed their eyebrows, looking at their colleague.

 “Well... Obviously. It isn’t like someone-- if Crawford did hire criminals, would have put them there intentionally. Crawford would clearly not have done the dirty work himself.” Brokenshire pressed.

 “No, no-- What if someone tried to frame him?” Jenkins continued, “Think about it-- Crawford is a high standing man, he has a lot of enemies, someone might have stolen the jewelry and planted it on the scene when they kidnapped Jekyll, to throw us off of their tracks?”

 The officers all went silent for a moment, as Jenkin’s words and his theory began to sink in. It only took a moment, and then Wipple gasped, almost with excitement. He grabbed Jenkins’ arm and stared at him in awe, before immediately giving him a quick pat on the back.

 “Jenkins! You might actually be onto something!” 

 Jenkins grinned proudly, preening under the praises before the two constables turned towards the sergeant for his input. Brokenshire continued to stare down at the documents, eyebrows knitted into a deep, deep frown upon his forehead. Jenkins’ and Wipple’s excited grins slowly washed away as they watched their friend, a bit confused, a bit worried, as the sergeant reached up a hand to scratch his beard in thought. 

 “That... Complicates things.” 

 Brokenshire straightened himself, placing his arms behind his back as his frown only seemed to deepen by the second, yet his eyes did not leave the documents. If someone had kidnapped Jekyll and tried to frame Crawford for it... This might be a much more complicated situation than they had anticipated. This must be a gang activity, or someone who was very dumb for using two pieces of jewelry and nothing more. He could not deny that the idea seemed plausible-- it actually sounded quite reasonable and logical, But how did the criminals get their hands on the trinkets? Could the Scotland Yard afford to finally go and confront Crawford about it, if he knew that his things had recently gotten stolen?

 Well... It wasn’t like they had anything to go on, otherwise.

 “Gentlemen... I think it’s time that we go to the source, eh?”

 “Source?”

 “We have to interrogate Crawford. Perhaps he can point us to the reason for why his stuff was in Jekyll’s office.”

 Wipple and Jenkins looked at each other, and yet they both immediately turned back to the sergeant.

 “Well... What are we waiting for, then?”

The three of them looked at each other for a short moment, only allowing a second of hesitation before all three of them practically sprinted to the door, tearing it open and practically running down the corridors, immediately jumping into the police carriage that was stationed outside and then they were off, galloping through the city streets, off to an unsuspecting Richard Crawford. They had no time to waste, perhaps that’s why they all decided that they had to rush, perhaps that’s why they decided to be quick, or maybe it was the excitement of finally having another lead-- another lead that actually made sense and could be true. In just a few hours they might have their truth. In just a few hours they might find the culprits. In just a few hours, they could all just hope that they would find out what happened to the beloved Dr. Henry Jekyll.

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This chapter was originally going to be Thomas going home from the... Ahem, “hook up” with Robert and meeting Emma Carew and flirting a bit with her, but that plan was only in the drafts and I never wrote it so it’s not what I originally had planned and mentioned in the notes above, but I’m weak for Emma and also Emma X Henry so I hope I will be able to write something for them when this fic is over <3

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Taglist: @artzycreature @jekkiefan

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