#but that's integral to the story nevertheless

[queenlucythevaliant]

"Foolish One" is a Scarlett O'Hara song

[gofancyninjaworld]

just peopling

I don't think Murata knows what he does for me when he draws characters showing their more unguarded, vulnerable moments. And I don't mean when they're undergoing a profound emotional experience. Just the mundane, everyday activities.

It's not easy to depict mundanity in a story: real estate is precious, and Everything Has To Mean Something. So Murata finding space both within and around the chapters to ground the characters as people despite their abilities is precious.

Something that comes to mind is Scott McCloud's comment in his excellent book 'Understanding Comics', where he notes that depicting a superhero going to the bathroom is funny as we don't see these characters as human and it breaks our immersion. In One-Punch Man, the characters may be incredible and in a fantastic setting, but ONE and Murata have pulled off their also being so human there's nothing remarkable about them eating, sleeping, going to the bathroom, or having a recycling schedule on the wall. It's not easy to do.

ONE does get mileage out of making superhumans doing ordinary things hilarious, but he does it by making the context funny. Sure, Sonic on the shitter is funny, but it's not funny because he's an impossible ninja having a shit as if he were human. We accept his humanity. It's why he's crapping his guts out that's hilarious: there's both the schadenfreude of seeing him hoisted by his own petard and the relief that because he's screwed up, he will stay human. Sure, Genos using his arm cannon to dry the dishes is funny, but not because he's a combat cyborg that probably costs the same as a fighter jet. He and Saitama ate. Of course the dishes need doing. It's that he's abusing a million-dollar piece of equipment to do something ordinary that's hilarious -- like an engineer abusing a high-powered laser to heat coffee [1].

Often, the context isn't funny for the sake of being funny. Genos cleaning the house? Not funny. Genos ignoring the sounds of battle outside because he can't bring himself to leave the house until he's cleaned up all traces of the previous night's party? Hilarious. However, it's not just funny: it's the setup for us seeing later the pots and bowls set out as the apartment is destroyed, all ready to start dinner as soon as Saitama comes back. He's prepared for a meal that neither will ever eat. We carry out our routines as if life will never change, even though we're aware it can be cut short at any time and in ways we cannot anticipate, and no amount of power or privilege changes that. In the meantime, we live.

Why do they go so far as to humanize the characters? Other than it being nice to see, it also allows the story to land points that otherwise couldn't work. Points such as everything takes time, effort, and attention and no one can do everything, but must needs choose, and these choices have consequences. That we need others to be human. That even the best relationships take work. That fulfilling yourself as a human being is a work in progress. That the idea of there being a 'thing' or 'state' that will make one happy is nonsense. That we can go too far. That we don't deserve second chances, but no one's counting.

Being human is complicated and frustrating and boring but oh so worth it. That's a big point that ONE wants to get across. And he can't do that if the very idea of a character needing the bathroom is hilarious.

[1] Obligatory health warning: do not fuck with lasers. A laser capable of warming your coffee in a useful time is both invisible and more likely to set you on fire than give you a warm beverage.

[mizushidokoro]

can we as a society stop pretending that jjk does not have a misogyny problem? there are many shitty and unfair criticisms of gege's writing and I understand the instinct to push back against that, but let's not pretend gege has invested the same effort into, and/or has the same aptitude for, writing women as for writing men

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo for The Big Picture:

It’s been nearly 50 days since the soul-crushing election, and many of us are still in a bit of shock and experiencing continued denial. The headlines have been disturbing, to say the least, as they preview what the next four years could be like here in the U.S. and around the world. We are in dire need of some coping mechanisms. With 2024 drawing to an end, I figured it might be useful to compile some strategies and tips, gleaned from experts and from my conversations with many readers, on ways to survive these next four years, both individually and collectively as a democracy. These are in no particular order, and some of them may or may not resonate with you. I hope you nevertheless find them helpful and even practical.

Avoid the lure of nihilism

You feel it sometimes in your gut, and you see it in others’ comments: a sense of doom and despair. “There is nothing we can do.” “They will get away with everything.” “Nothing we can say will ever get through to the other side.” “Face it, it’s the end of our democracy.” Let me first say that anyone who hasn’t indulged in even a bit of this thinking hasn’t been paying attention. Things are bad, and in fact quite bad. So it’s perfectly natural and human to entertain these thoughts. But we can’t remain stuck in such thinking. So I want to offer some perspective from a great man who has seen and overcome many great challenges in his life. I worked for years with the actor and activist George Takei, who spent his childhood in Japanese American internment camps during World War II. He and 125,000 others in his community experienced what a fascist America really looked like: families rounded up and forced from their homes at gunpoint, forced to live for weeks in horse stables then for years behind barbed wire fences, with no charge and no trial, all for the “crime” of looking like the enemy. It would have been understandable for George to become embittered and to turn his back on this country. Instead he dedicated his life to a cause, working to deliver reparations for his community and to teach the history of the internment so that we would never repeat that terrible chapter of our history. He taught me a word in Japanese that I still think about a lot to this day: gaman. It means to face challenges with dignity and fortitude. Things have been bad before, and for many racial minorities, far worse than now. But they didn’t give up. They persevered, even in the face of the terrible dysfunction and injustice of our system. When I feel like throwing up my hands, I remember George Takei, and people like the late John Lewis, and I draw strength from their example. They did not let despair paralyze them or cause them to surrender.

Be a voice of hope, not fear

One of the ways fascism succeeds is through fear. And one way fear spreads is through public repetition and normalization. Some of our corporate and media leaders are already setting terrible examples by “obeying in advance” and capitulating to Trump’s threats. We shouldn’t be like them. But beyond that, it’s important to consider what impact our own attitudes have on others.

[...]

Support independent journalism

Many of our major papers, from the Washington Post to the LA Times, have billionaire owners who have recently demonstrated that they would rather please, or at least not ruffle the feathers of, the incoming administration than hold themselves up to basic standards of journalistic integrity. A small but collectively significant thing we as consumers can do is to vote with our eyeballs and our dollars. There are many independent sources of news with terrific reporting still happening. ProPublica was the one to break the stories on the corruption of Justice Clarence Thomas and the purchase of his support by wealthy benefactors, and I support them with an annual subscription. Another great outfit is Popular.info, which regularly exposes corporate malfeasance among other important topics. I have a favorite set of Substack journalists and analysts I support including  Heather Cox Richardson for news with a historical perspective,  Joyce Vance for legal news and analysis, Robert Hubbell for a daily news summary, and Talking Points Memo for political analysis. While these sources admittedly lean left, I also regularly read and support more centrist reporting from The Bulwark.

[...]

Defend institutions

There’s been a lot of attention paid to historian Timothy Snyder’s first rule in fighting fascism, which is not to obey in advance. But there’s not enough attention on his second rule.

[In his book On Tyranny, Snyder writes,

Defend institutions. It is institutions that help us to preserve decency. They need our help as well. Do not speak of “our institutions” unless you make them yours by acting on their behalf. Institutions do not protect themselves. They fall one after the other unless each is defended from the beginning. So choose an institution you care about—a court, a newspaper, a law, a labor union—and take its side.]

The great thing about this rule is that all of us can do something meaningful to help. Speak up for our court system and the rule of law, even when (or perhaps especially after) they fall short of expectations. The goal is to improve them as institutions, not to cast them aside. Support your local newspaper with a subscription. Rally at your state capital in support of laws protecting abortion rights. Support striking workers by avoiding companies that are anti-union. These acts seem small, but collectively they matter a great deal, and our institutions cannot succeed without support from the public.

Jay Kuo wrote in The Big Picture on the guide to surviving the next four years under the autocratic Trump Regime.

[p0orbaby]

Hidden in Plain Sight

summary: a secret relationship? who’d have thunk it? not your teammates

warnings: suggestive themes

a/n: i started this months ago, i hate it, enjoy

word count: 2.4k

-

Alessia is a good girl.

You’re not.

Alessia wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You’d punch someone in the face if provoked.

On paper it never should have worked. You with your hot head and her with her kindness and smiles. It was a contrast of temperaments that, to most observers, would have appeared incompatible. And it was. To a degree.

“The coast is clear” you assess. “You go first and I’ll hang back so it doesn’t look like we’ve left together”

The two of you have honed the art of sneaking around. Having mastered the delicate balance of staying close without arousing any unwanted attention. It has become an integral part of your daily routine.

Bringing your head back into the storage cupboard you had meticulously scouted, you find Alessia pulling her t-shirt over her head. In turn hiding the blooming bruises on her collar bones you had gifted her only minutes ago.

She looks in your direction, your silhouette barely discernible in the dim light of the weak bulb. Nevertheless, even in this low light, she can sense your intense gaze sweeping over her body. It makes her skin tingle even now.

“Remember not to be too loud when you get back,” she cautions, her voice hushed, laden with the weight of your secrets.

You let out a soft chuckle and nod. “You worry too much,” you tease. “I know the drill”

“But last time-“

You cut her off with a tender kiss, your lips silencing her. And when she hums against you, you can’t help but smirk. “Last time was a mistake. It won’t happen again, I promise” you whisper between kisses. Your hands gently squeeze her waist reassuringly as you hold her close.

Last time was, unfortunate. And in hindsight, staying back to ‘catch up’ in the showers after training was a terrible idea. Especially when it was glaringly obvious that the two of you were both conspicuously absent from lunch. You had managed to explain it away, albeit with raised eyebrows, knowing looks, and indiscreet whispers behind your backs.

The showers had served as a potent warning, a moment of realisation that you couldn't afford to be as reckless as before. This had prompted your shift in tactics, opting for more clandestine meetings in storage cupboards and carefully timed returns to your respective rooms.

"See you tomorrow in training," she whispers, and you can't resist pulling her in for another lingering kiss before she gracefully slips out of the shadows and makes her way back to her room.

-

“And where have you been?”

A pointed question was asked from across the room as soon as the door clicked shut. You groan internally and roll your eyes in the dark before answering.

“Just getting food” you lie. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d go and get something to eat”

Before you knew it, the room was instantly flooded with a harsh, unrelenting white light. It forced you to squint your eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden, glaring beacon that illuminated every nook and cranny of the space.

“Do you mind?” You ask, your hand coming up to shield your eyes.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right?”

“I’d love to know what you’re talking about, Greenwood. But I don’t”

Alex was clearly not going to let this go. And if the look on her face told you anything, it was that she was having a very hard time believing you.

You sighed, trying to maintain your composure and stick to the cover story. “I was just feeling restless, so I decided to grab a snack. Promise.” You said, a little harsher than intended. The tension and prying getting to you.

She didn’t buy it for a second, her eyes narrowing. “At,” she looks at the time on her phone, “half past midnight? Couldn’t you have just had the snacks I know you keep in your bag?”

Your heart raced as you struggled to come up with an excuse. “Well, I didn’t want to wake you up with my rummaging around. Thought I’d be considerate”

She still didn’t seem convinced. “Considerate? You’ve never been this considerate before”

You snort at her brutal honesty and shrug. “I just thought it’d be a good idea tonight, you know, change things up a bit”

Alex kept her eyes firmly on you, making you squirm under her penetrating gaze. “So, nothing else?”

“Like what?” You ask knowing full well what she was alluding to. Your heart skipped a beat, and you forced a chuckle to mask your anxiety. “You watch too many spy movies. It was just food, no biggie”

She finally leaned back, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. “Alright, alright, just hurry up and get to sleep will you? We have to be up soon”

You let out a silent breath of relief, grateful that she had finally let it go. “We have to be up in seven hours, you mean?”

“Whatever. I’m cranky if I don’t get my self allocated eight”

-

Downtime was always hard.

You didn’t want to spend too much time together and make things more obvious than they needed to be. So you chose to distance yourselves when you could. Sitting at different tables when you ate. Splitting up into different groups when you were on rest.

However, this time you had chosen the wrong group to settle down with.

“Russo came back late last night, you know?”

The group of girls all went silent at Tooney’s gossip.

The mention of Alessia’s late return sent a wave of discomfort through you. Your eyes fell on each person, trying to gauge their reactions. You couldn’t afford any slip-ups or suspicious behavior. Ella had unknowingly opened a door to your world of secrets, so you needed to handle this situation delicately.

Millie leaned in closer, eager to hear more. “Late, huh? Wonder what she was up to,” she commented.

You quickly tried to change the topic, “People have their own reasons for being up late sometimes. It’s not that exciting, surely”

Rach, however, wasn’t ready to drop it “like what?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as she nudged Esme and smirked.

Your heart raced, and you glanced at the girl in question. Eating her breakfast a few tables away and none the wiser to how she was the center of this conversation. You cringed at the position you were in. You couldn’t reveal anything without risking your own secret. “I don’t know,” you replied, feigning your indifference with a practiced grimace. “Maybe she was just out for a walk or something”

“In the middle of the night?” Ella chimed in again.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the secret becoming almost unbearable. You needed to change the subject quickly and divert the conversation away from yours and Alessia’s late-night activities. “You know,” you said between bites of food, “I’ve been thinking about suggesting a movie night for all of us sometime. Morgan over here hasn’t even seen The Devil Wears Prada”

You use your fork to point at her, earning a chuckle from the group. The idea of a movie night seemed to be well-received, and they started discussing their favorite films and the logistics of organizing such an event.

Relieved, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

-

“They’re onto us” you whisper as Alessia marks you on the field. “Alex and Tooney both caught us getting in. It’s only a matter of time before they connect the dots”

Her only response was to block you from rolling past her to catch a through ball. You let it trickle out of play to gain some time.

“Maybe we should lay low for a while” you suggest.

The idea of distancing yourselves further from each other doesn’t sit well with either of you, but it might be a necessary sacrifice to protect your secret and avoid further suspicion.

You both jog back to your positions, your breath slightly elevated from the quick exchange. Alessia’s voice is low, and she contemplates, “Laying low for a while does sound like the safest option. Hempo saw the marks you left. I had to tell her the barbell slipped in conditioning the other day”

“Shit, I’m sorry”

“No it’s fine” she promises, placing a hand in front of you again to keep you back from the ball once more. “I like that you did that”

You weren’t a very bashful person. though your trademark stormy face now blushed uncharacteristically pink at her words.

“Liked that who did what?”

A voice from behind you made you both jump apart. Turning on your heels to find Mary looking between the two of you.

Caught off guard, she stammered “I, that uh, that Y/N finally decided to adopt a dog”

Your eyes bulged at Alessia's excuse whilst Mary’s narrowed as she eyed you suspiciously.

“But you hate dogs”

“No I don’t” you scoff. “Why would you say that?”

Her features twist with confusion. “Because you always complain about pet hair and how they smell”

“Well, I changed my mind” you stated matter of factly.

Alessia chimed in, trying to reinforce the ruse, “It’s true. Y/N had a change of heart after spending time with a friend’s puppy last weekend”

Mary smirked teasingly, “Well, miracles do happen. Maybe having a furry friend will teach you to care about someone other than yourself for a change”

“That’s just rude”

She chuckled back, “I call it like I see it. Anyway, enough with the dog tales. We’re here to train, not discuss pets. Let’s get back into focus mode, shall we? The least amount of goals I have to save the better”

You waited a beat, letting Mary retreat back between the posts before turning to a guilty looking Alessia.

“A dog? Seriously? Now I have to make inquiries at the local shelter just to make sure people don’t think I’m adopting a furball as a cover for getting in your pants”

“I’m sorry. I panicked!”

“This isn’t working” you concluded, running a stressed hand over your face. “We need a better plan, or different roommates. Do you think it’s too late to swap?”

-

It was dark the next time you saw Alessia.

Lie.

It was dark the next time you spoke to Alessia.

And by spoke you meant you had your tongues down each other's throats.

You were both terrible at keeping your word. You’d agreed, only hours ago, that you’d let the dust settle a little before you made any more sudden movements.

But here you were, Alessia perched on the edge of a conference room table, while you stood between her long legs pulling noises from her as you kissed and sucked at her mouth.

The room was bathed in a soft glow, neither of you deeming it appropriate to meet in the shadows or the dark when you were deep in the belly of the building. The world around you fading away as you succumbed to each other, enough so that the creak of a door evaded the two of you altogether.

“I knew it!” The shrill voice from behind you both made you pull apart from each other. Breathless and on your way to a state of undress. “I told you!”

Caught with your tongues down each other’s throats, and, surprise, the teammates walked in on the clandestine conference room rendezvous. You’re looking breathless, on the brink of undress, and Mary, Alex, and Tooney are grinning like they just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the season.

Which they probably did.

You and Alessia exchange a look, a non-verbal conversation that screams, ‘Well, this just got awkward’.

Mary, the chief investigator of the squad, steps forward, wearing a smirk. “Alright, spill it. How long hm? How long have you been sneaking around?” She demands, as if interrogating prime suspects.

“No! Get out, all of you!” You insist, using as much of you body as you could to cover the blondes dignity.

Alex chuckles, thoroughly enjoying the dramatic turn of her probable evening plans. “Oh, come on, we’re all teammates here. It’s nothing we haven’t, almost, all seen before”

Letting out a groan, you let your head drop to Alessia’s shoulder in defeat. You wanted to floor to swallow you up.

“You didn’t answer her question” Tooney prompts as the three of them wait for details they’re definitely not entitled to.

You turn and square your shoulders, ready to take whatever teasing comes your way. “Long enough to stop pretending that we’re not into each other” you snap.

Alex leans in, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Let’s not kid ourselves. We all knew this was bound to happen”

Tooney adds, “Yeah, the black sheep and the golden girl, what a pair”

You roll your eyes, knowing you can’t escape the judgment.

Mary, though, takes a more serious tone, her eyes narrowing. “Alright, cut the crap. Why’d you drag Alessia into this mess? She’s the only innocent one left on the team, and you, well, you’re the resident wild card”

You scoff, “No one dragged her into anything. She’s not as innocent as you think”

Alessia interjects, he head popping up from behind you. “Guys, stop. I chose this. I made the first move. So back off, yeah?”

The room goes silent momentarily. No one, including yourself, expected Alessia to stand up for you like that. She wasn’t shy, you knew that more than anyone, but she also was never one to dive head first into conflict.

If you were being honest, it was turning you on a little.

Mary smirks, “Well, I’ll be damned. The angel actually has backbone”

You shoot them an exasperated look. “Out! Now!”

In a wave of laughs and whistles, the three of them finally stumble out of the room. The door clicks shut, leaving you and Alessia in a moment of awkward silence.

Alessia breaks into a giggle, “Well, that went well”

You shake your head with a smile, “If by well you mean I’m never going to live this down, then yes, it went exceptionally well”

She wraps her arms around you, “They’ll get over it. Eventually”

You chuckle, your hands coming up to brush hair out of her face, “Yeah, when the next scandal rolls around”

Feeling your tenstion, Alessia leans in, pressing her lips against yours in a calming, distracting kiss. Smiling into it when she feels you melt into her.

Just as you run your tongue over her bottom lip, there’s a sudden knock on the door. Mary’s voice calls out through the wood, “Enough with the love fest, you two. Weve got training tomorrow and we need you both fighting fit”

You share a slightly frustrated glance with Alessia, the interruption breaking the spell once agai. “Alright, alright,” you call back, trying to regain composure. “We’re coming!”

Well, you would be if they left you alone.

[yannights]

The Caged Truth

Yandere male X winged reader

A/n: Hi, it has been a while, sorry for being absent but I am back with a new story. You can imagine any male character for this story, feel free to choose your favourite.

"A caged bird isn't a real bird. A real bird can fly. Those that are trapped lose all that makes them a bird."

Your statement came as a surprise, so surprising that it caught the attention of your captor as he was reaching to open the bedroom door and leave. He stopped, all movements faltered, and a deafening silence created a sense of unease that could almost make you sick. But you refused to show such emotions and patiently awaited his response. A few seconds went by, and the air started to thicken, as if it was warning you. Had you made a mistake? Had you spilled the wrong words? But you had only spoken the most honest truth. Surely he would understand, given the situation.

He slightly turned his head to the side, showing he was thinking about the words he was going to say in response.

"A bird with one wing chopped off cannot fly as well. Does that not make it a bird then?" He asked.

Those words were definitely ones you were not expecting. A simple question that nearly contradicted your own words. You felt stress rise as you tried to find a way to answer without leaving another opening, hoping to make a better point. You realized that the bedroom had now become an arena, where one of you would come out as the victor, and the other as the loser. Your mind raced desperately. If you gave no answer soon, then he would win, and you would face pure humiliation.

"But at least it is still free. Regardless of its disability, it may not fly, but it is outside, living and not confined..."

"But vulnerable." He interrupted.

Your form moved slightly backward as your eyes widened in shock. He turned around, and by doing so, you could have sworn the room darkened. He faced you with a stoic expression that nevertheless had an apologetic tint to it, as if he understood where you were getting at but was still convinced by his own ideal. He adavnced slowly. You instinctively backed away. He watched you while you avoided his gaze.

This lasted until your wings made contact with the cold wall behind you, which signified that it was short-lived. He finally came to a grounding halt as his chest was millimeters away from your form. He leaned forward and slowly reached his hand out towards you. You flinched, not knowing what he was going to do. You closed your eyes tightly but reopened them as soon as you felt the rough hand caress your left wing.

"A one-winged bird can never survive in this cruel world. It would die as soon as it is born," he said as his other hand reached out to touch your other wing, leaving you completely trapped in his hold, too afraid to move.

"Even a bird in its integrity can fly, eat, sleep, but can also die so easily as it has many predators hungrily watching it, as it has many arrows pointing ready to shoot it down, as it has ways to fall and die."

His hand movements stopped, and he let go of your wings. He moved one to your face and tilted it upwards to look into his stone-cold eyes.

"That is the price of freedom, a price I will not allow you to pay. That is why cages were made, to keep it safe."

The word "it" really meant "you," and you could see the sincerity behind his words. His stern expression softened ever so slightly, but yours only grew sadder.

"But at what cost?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "A life without freedom isn't a life at all. Can't you see that?"

His grip on your face tightened momentarily before he let out a long, weary sigh. "I can see it, but I cannot risk losing you. The world out there is merciless and unforgiving. Here, in this cage, you are safe. With me, you are safe."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of relenting, and in the end, they only spilt down your face. He kissed your forehead as soon as he saw your sadness but did not wipe your tears away. Because tears are a sign of realization...

A realization that you would never leave his cage...

[darklinaforever]

It's crazy how people can reject the very heart of the film Nosferatu 2024. Named the relationship between Ellen & Orlok.

Note that no one among the Orlok & Ellen fans denies that she loves Thomas, at least, I have never seen any fans of Orlok & Ellen claim otherwise.

Simply, we also integrate the fact that she has sexual desire for Orlok (because she is sexually frustrated with Thomas) and also a deeper connection than that with him on an aspect of her that only he can understand.

So why do I see people (more precisely fans of Ellen & Thomas ship) trying to deny any shared relationship between Ellen & Orlok, if not an abusive aspect of Orlok on Ellen (which exists, I don't deny it, and it's part of why we like this relationship, the toxicity, but it's not just that between the characters) ?

That she just hate him because she said to him ? As if in movies the dialogue and actions can't differ ? As if someone can't both hate and love someone ? You must be really boring not to understand that.

I can find tons of examples in fiction of characters who say they hate each other but love each other / have feelings for each other. Worse, saying it before a passionate kiss or even during sex. In cinema, it's mostly what happens on screen that matters, even if the dialogues have a certain importance and must be well done, they are not really the main attraction.

At the limit, people will recognize the erotic aspect between the vampire and the girl, but nothing more, refusing the aspect of connection that we are talking about.

And again, either some will accept that Ellen desires Orlok, but others will say that it is only a desire resulting from Orlok's manipulation thanks to his powers.

(Because apparently it's impossible to experience a sexual awakening with a monster in fiction ? Christine Daee had no problem experiencing her sexual awakening without magic involved thanks to Erik who nevertheless looked like a living corpse from what I remember...)

Some also try to say that the erotic aspect of the vampire exists but only between Orlok and Thomas. Seriously, wtf ?

(Even if yes, we can say that there is a form of tension between Orlok and Thomas but it is clearly not central to the story or very important)

And for some, Ellen would only be a form of Thomas by proxy for Orlok. Ridiculous.

(Especially since it would be the opposite logically, namely that Orlok has a tension with Thomas because he is linked to Ellen that Orlok wants)

And that Ellen on her side would have an ambiguity romantic and sexual with Anna only and not Orlok. Because I imagine that it is more tolerable that Ellen loves her husband and has ambiguous feelings for a woman rather than these two and the vampire that is Orlok in addition ?

People constantly try to belittle the Orlok & Ellen relationship.

While the film is very clear.

Not only is it a relationship based on eroticism but also on a deeper connection linked to the darkness in Ellen, an aspect of her that only Orlok can understand, and some romantic undertones between the two characters.

Seriously, in the interviews we talk about a love triangle. Of the vampire in love with Ellen. Of a sexual awakening (contradicting the idea that some fans have that Orlok forces this sexual desire in a "magical" way in Ellen) and of a love between a girl and a demon. Not to mention the take on inspiration from Death and the Maiden, the Beauty and the Beast and Wuthering Heights ! But yeah... nothing romantic between the girl and the monster at all here...

Anyway, it's always the same fucking story when there's a ship with a villain and a heroine... Just impressed by how quickly detractors of a fictional relationship can come forward. 🙄

[joaofelix70]

MISS DIPLOMAT & MR. CHARMING |

dominik szoboszlai x female reader.

author's note: this handsome man's living rent-free in my head. he's a freaking masterpiece. talented, funny, charismatic, attractive. i watched interviews, tiktok videos made by supporters and much more to understand a little bit of his language, personality and what he does towards friends and loved ones. laughed a lot! i made my homework as a writer, hope you enjoy it! (compliments and any kind of retributions are more than welcomed).

summary: your job is involving the commitment of unify the population and create interrelations to another countries, using the eurocup qualifiers and the hungary national team executions. you just didn't expect to fall in love with the no. 10's captain player.

words and characters: 1,811/11,223. it was three days working too hard on this story. i'm begging for your consideration, lol.

────

sports diplomacy: it's the unique power of sport to bring people, nations, and communities closer together via a shared love of physical pursuits. this responsibility is the reason of a transition between strangers to connected individuals, advancing foreign policy goals and augmenting sport for development initiatives. the complex landscape where sport, politics, and diplomacy overlap become clearer, as do the pitfalls of using sport as a tool for overcoming and mediating separation between people, nonstate actors, and states. the power of sport has never been more important. so far, the 21st century has been dominated by disintegration, introspection, and the retreat of the nation-state from the globalization agenda. in such an environment, scholars, students, and practitioners of international relations are beginning to rethink how sport might be used to tackle climate change, gender inequality, and the united nations sustainable development goals, for example. to boost these integrative, positive efforts is to focus on the means as well as the ends, that is, the diplomacy, plural networks, and processes involved in the role sport can play in tackling the monumental traditional and human security challenges of our time. credits: international studies association and oxford university press.

────

MLSZ (hungarian football federation) ──

new training ground at telki.

"i can't believe that being in places like this made up my most theoretically utopian childhood dreams. what a progress in front of me!" you still witness exciting moments where you pinch yourself, trying to believe in the reality that surrounds you: visiting the new training center of the players who are just a few meters away from you, getting ready to represent an entire country.

"your presence is our privilege. a voice of the spread of eurocup to our nation, right here…" the technical director gives you deference, obtaining a measure of humbleness and respect by you.

"the honor belongs to me in its entirety. grateful for having me, sir. while the view is immersive and captivating — my fervent congratulations to everyone involved — could we retreat from the pleasant glass-enclosed room and see everything closer, on the outside? please? i will never get used to this atmosphere." you pour politeness and charisma to the staffs around you, being directed to the proximity of the field and saluting the employees who pass through your path.

meet dominik — your szobo — instigates the nostalgic combination of detailed moments in which your thoughts display as photographic retrospectives. you're incapable to oppose the little enthusiastic laughs, fidgeting the rings between your fingers and avoiding possible suspicious glances from others. however, for you, this wouldn't actually work. the lives of you both are correlated, but different.

the training session is finished. clapping your hands and celebrating the performances, you greet the athletes and recognize some familiar people. nevertheless, reality slows down after those dark woody eyes capture through your soul. his arms tattoos are glorified by the sun's rays, the same illuminated smile is offered to you: that one you got during the very first time you saw him — instantly knowing he made you testimony the accuracy of freedom, catharsis and emotional amorous complement. that he'd be the one to introduce you what you never experienced, what you thought you'd never receive or deserve. what love truly is. when you were novices in your actual professions, not even imagining the future gifts of your unreal purposes.

"there you are!" intimately, dominik points at you, being reciprocated by vibrant nods and your old sort of secret — not that mysterious or serious — handshake. "még mindig emlékszel rá? (still remembering it?). you're a real one!"

"hogy tudnám elfelejteni? alábecsülsz engem. (how could i forget it? you're underestimating me)". your defensive actions demonstrate purposeful falseness. masking any sensitive, verbal or figurative communicative fragment from him is a difficulty that makes you give in over time. honestly, you never complain about this. it's like he wants to understand the factors and layers of you.

"a te kézfogás fickó. ne merészelj lecserélni engem. (your handshake man… don't you dare to replace me)". a shameless wink is send to you, butterflies acquiring space in your stomach.

"és hivatalosan is a szavamat adom rá. (and you officially have my word on it)." your gloss is pigmented against your fingers while you raise it up, displaying an oath, wondering if szoboszlai comprehends that his replacement in your life would be blasphemous.

"diplomata kisasszony, (miss diplomat)…" the hungarian fingerprints are shared and you recognize the sign to hold them, ready to perform your typical fashion icon moment. "gorgeous as always. go ahead! you know what to do!".

amusement surrounds you with the nickname's citation. although, you could feel some curious glances, from the outsiders, about the intimacy between you and him. "i appreciate, our top-class national bless…" you move your body in rotations to exclaim the outfit's characteristics, lifting your feet to show off the specificities of your heels. "how is your hair so well-groomed after sweating, though?" your arms cross and you raise an eyebrow in questioning, trying to hide your fascination.

"thank you, my number-one fan, but don't change the subject. finish our inside joke, c'mon!" dominik grabs his water bottle and spreads the cooling liquid on his forehead, wiping the glowing droplets across his face as he lifted his jersey high enough to exhibits his fortified abs.

your attention is directed to any surrounding scenery, throat being piked. szoboszlai pretends he doesn't notice, preventing to embarrass you.

"alright, alright! you've won, bájos úr… (mr. charming)". your final comment escapes as, practically, a whisper. you can't control the shy laughter, coupled with the considerable redness invading your cheeks.

"that's the secret to make my day!" using his tongue to reproduce a sharp noise, he matches your humorous reactions. "would you like me to show you the infrastructure changes? i'm just gonna take a shower!"

"i've already been granted a tour around here, but in case you insist…" during the dialogue, some athletes cross your space, wishing them good luck for the competition. your concentration on the activity is significant, at the point that dominik's silent admiration goes unnoticed.

"i mean, you know me! i'm gonna insist anyway, so…" he reaches your captivity, bringing you jollification.

"i'll rate you as a personal tour guide. now, go there!" jesting each other, you both exchange exaggerated reverences, like a challenge of who makes the most chaotic one.

────

walking around the area, various subjects are explored, informations entrusted. you ask and are updated about his ethereal younger sister.

portraits of the generations are framed. you magnifies his presence in celebratory pictures, dedicated to find him in the memories and achievements on that wall. pride shines from you and the hungarian finds it lovely.

"you know i'm a sucker for accents… they're much more than mere verbal characteristics, they're stories: life experiences, marks and scars. identities and cultural integrations." the topic is random. through generalized opinions, you're explaining conceptions and dominik is retaining mental observations. he exalts every scrap of your identity, like a faithful worshiper.

"basically, you're admitting being enchanted by my accent. i can see the stars in your eyes. a win is a win!" szoboszlai and his frequent attribute to physical touch, tickling your ears and playing with them. it doesn't bother you, actually: adoring the affection exuded by you and him. you feel like a little girl dealing with your one and only love.

"it's beautiful, how can you blame me? and hey, i know mine's making you grin too." he holds your arm, shivers running down your spine, the two of you being euphoric in the midst of your own enthusiasm.

"putting me against the wall? okay, hum… what were you saying before?" he's changing the subject and you have a natural wit to boo him. lifting his shoulders as a surrender, the hungarian focuses on the specific loose strands of his simple bracelet, which you get used to help him tie it again, willingly.

"trying to avoid the truth? fine! let me take care of you while i talk about my admiration towards globalization and communication. like, with every fiber of me…" you accept the conversation's direction and utter a 'voilà' towards the accessory's new appearance.

"that's why you're the best person i've ever seen doing this job." dominik compliments you, an act full of honesty.

"thanks a lot, mate. but which job? as your bracelet helper or my real one?" you provide tenderness, looking amused.

"i mean… both of them." szoboszlai chuckles, revealing courtesy by your continuous helpfulness.

"literally? because i know you know a lot of people. you're so young and already is the national team's captain." you nudge him in a form of tease. he's a starboy, it's undeniable.

"flattered! literally, thought. you were born for this, believe me." vulnerability collides to you, as his words are deliberated: emotions embracing you and warming your insides.

"dominik szoboszlai, my dear friend, you're gonna make me cry, right here. i'm sorry, i need to do it…"

innocent satisfaction builds strength over you and executes unthought-of approach to the tangibility of your gratitude — his colony enrapturing your sensitive olfaction — in the most out-of-control way. the sounds reach your hearing: a choir of angels singing hallelujah. he reciprocates the contact, laughing at your juvenile excitement. joining him and doing the same thing, harmonizing the triumph. in the separation of the touch, you both remain close to each other and the hungarian doesn't miss the opportunity to feel the softness of your side face, caressing the skin. appreciation and satisfaction invade your structure, delighting on the palm of his hand.

"just a dear friend? why are we pretending all this time?" dominik's reading you. the intimidation at the sight of him overhanging you is paralyzing. you don't usually back down, but in that instant — superior than your most repressed desires — your gasps are escaped.

"who is putting who against the wall now?" insisting and failing on your witty answers, shyness and uncertainty corrodes you.

"please, look at me! i'm not kidding anymore." his voice is questioning, intrigued — contradictorily vulnerable and calm — your rationality being fragmented, fragile.

"you know i'm not the kind of woman you're surrounding by, domi. i'm not an influencer, bikini model. i'm not a public figure. i don't live for the cameras and gossip platforms. i live to work hard. i didn't achieve any of this with some type of perk. my routine and your routine are based on traveling..." who could deny it? szoboszlai's always been all that you see. it's much more than a mere passion. your attraction to him is magnetic, intense, vivid. consequently, terrifying.

"i'm just asking for a chance, (your nickname). i don't lie when i say i've never met someone like you. i may be surrounded by a crowd and you'll still be the one to steal my attention, because nobody compares to you."

your eyelids are closed and the exhalation of his sigh penetrates your lungs with the numbing breath of life you've never experienced before. it's happening: the rare situation where thinking carefully about the pros and cons is unworthy, dumbness. your decision is made and the privilege's resolution unify your lips. the beginning demonstrates slowness and patience — the intensification through the concluded wait of the longed-for reality, transforming light and magical kisses into open mouths discovering each other and witnessing the endearment that both offer — hairs, necks, shoulders and waists captured.

"you're the first to create a meaningful presence in my mind and heart. i want you to be the last one too. i love you, kincs (my treasure). i'm finally brave enough to demonstrate it with no fears." dominik's forearm covers your upper torso. your back against his chest, noses resting on each others. rejoicing at the miraculous, incomparable circumstance.

"i love you, drágám (my precious). you're finally mine and it was so fucking worth waiting." his whisper: the living proof of celestial existence.

"how blessed we are…" intertwined bodies, coalesced essences. solitary melodies turning into the sweetest and most complete symphony.

[smol-n-smol]

Odd One Out: Chapter 1

A/N: Finally banged out the first chapter for this story based on this idea I came up with a little while ago. I hope y'all enjoy! I'll make a proper blurb at some point

Also I'm gonna be so fr, I've never done a tag list for a story before, so I'm just pulling this based on people from comments/tags who sounded like they wanted an update? If you want to be added or removed, just let me know :)

Tag List: @axolotlsdreams @seasonschange32 @tthevoic3s @kgonbeiden @coffehbeans

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

With its multilevel Roman-inspired buildings and wide cobblestone paths, the Kingston Academy campus is practically a work of art in and of itself. The early morning air carries the scent of prestige and erudition along a crisp autumn breeze.

Eriel stands before the glimmering gates of the academy, building up the nerve to walk through. He’s intimidated by the size of it all, though probably not for the same reason as most new students. It’s less that he’s afraid of getting lost in such a large place, and more that he’s scared of accidentally crushing something beneath his feet.

As the first giant to attend Kingston, it’s obvious that the school was never designed with his kind in mind. Most of the three story buildings don’t even reach the height of his shoulders. Even the monumental clocktower in the center of the courtyard just barely passes his 46 ft frame. 

If Eriel really wanted to, he could probably  jump right over the entrance gate in front of him. Not that he would ever do such a thing of course!! The thought alone of accidentally damaging something (or worse, someone!) is enough to send a wave of goosebumps down his spine.

Thankfully or unfortunately — Eriel is still trying to decide whether his enrollment here is a good or bad thing — the gilded gates part, at last inviting him onto the campus. There aren’t many students out yet, which makes sense. It’s barely past 7 AM on a Monday. Given the choice, Eriel wouldn’t be up this early either. Even so, the giant’s eyes stay focused on the ground as he navigates to the gymnasium on the other side of campus.

Usually students receive their orientation packets inside the administration building, but given his impressive size, there are only a handful of buildings that Eriel can fit into at all. The gym doubles as an auditorium and a venue for special events. The high ceilings were probably originally meant for improved ventilation and added elegance, but now the only benefit Eriel cares about is that he can at least sit inside without feeling overly claustrophobic.

He enters the building through a modified loading dock door. While he still has to crouch to fit through, it’s much better than having to crawl on his hands and knees like the first time he visited the building for interviews and psychological evaluations. Now that was a humiliating experience. He had been poked and prodded, and asked the most demeaning questions. Eriel shoves those memories back into a mental box. He needs to stay focused on the present moment.

Once he reaches the main area of the gymnasium, Eriel is finally able to sit down properly. The sunlight from the windows warms his skin. While he may not feel hot and cold the way that humans do, it's  a comforting sensation nevertheless. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that he’s back in the forest with his family.

He misses them, despite it only being the first day. If the integration program goes well over the next year, maybe his little sister will be able to join as well. She’d probably learn much more easily in a school than from the limited knowledge that Eriel is able to share with her every so often. It was difficult enough to teach himself most of what he knows — his knowledge a hodgepodge of information from the occasional abandoned books that sometimes wound up in the forest.

He doubts that Lora will keep up with his studies while he’s away, but a big brother is allowed to hope, right?

Just the thought of the young girl falling asleep while poring over a human textbook is enough to make Eriel chuckle aloud.

“I’m glad to see you in bright spirits today,” a voice says, bringing Eriel back to the present moment. 

Mr. Leeway, the head administrator and school guidance counselor, now stands on a walkway that wraps around the walls of the room. Eriel meets his gaze nervously, though less eye-to-eye and more eye-to-full-body. Thankfully with a giant’s enhanced vision, Eriel has no trouble with making out the details of the man before him.

“Good morning, sir,” Eriel greets in response, his back straightening as he now sits in a human’s presence. “Thank you again for allowing me to attend school here.”

The counselor  waves a hand, brushing aside Eriel’s politeness. “No need to be so formal now,” Mr. Leeway responds kindly. “You’ve more than earned your spot here after all.”

Immediately, the giant’s shoulders drop. In retrospect, those were the words he’s been hoping to hear. The ones he needed most for today.

He’s grateful that Mr. Leeway is so accepting of him. Hopefully the rest of the staff are as well. Eriel has yet to meet any of the professors at the academy. While it’s unrealistic to expect everyone to be this friendly, hopefully no one is too afraid or mean. 

As Mr. Leeway patiently talks him through the school handbook, the dorm system, and the giant accommodations scattered across the campus, Eriel can’t help but feel like maybe things will be okay.

“Any other questions?” the counselor asks, pausing long enough for Eriel to shake his head before continuing. “Perfect. Well in that case, I’ll let you get a head start towards your first class. Best of luck, kid.”

Eriel sits still until the human leaves before at last rising stiffly to exit the building.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The campus is much livelier now than it was less than an hour ago. Students walk in small groups to different destinations — some dressed in uniform and heading to classes, while other folks are still in pajamas, clearly in search of their first meal.

Eriel is one of the less fortunate folks, his first class starting at 9 AM. He’s always been a bit of an early riser, as most giants tend to be, but part of him wishes that he opted for a schedule with a later start time. He’d appreciate a bit more time before having to face his new peers.

Mr. Leeway assured him that all the students received a special training and information session on interacting with giants. In theory, everyone should be prepared for this transition. And yet, as Eriel rises to a standing position, stretching slightly to relieve his back of some of its stiffness,  it’s as if the whole world holds its breath.

Everyone stops whatever they’re doing once Eriel reaches his full height. The slight crack of his joints resounds throughout the quiet air, unintentionally drawing even more attention to the giant. 

The poor students closest to him quickly back away, and one especially frightened soul even faints. Eriel winces at that. The reception makes sense, and honestly, it could be a lot worse.

Slowly, the giant takes a step, just a small one in the direction of his class. Immediately, a group of nearby students begins to run away, despite the ample space Eriel makes sure to leave between himself and any humans. The giant sighs but continues on his way. What else can he do?

It takes only a couple of minutes for Eriel to cross the campus to his destination. The English building stands before him, just barely reaching his chest. There’s no chance that Eriel is going to be able to squeeze into the building itself, much less one of the classrooms inside. For pretty much all of his classes, he’ll have to sit outside and listen in through the windows. 

Eriel follows the instructions in his handbook packet to find the window for his first class. A large awning has been set up along that side of the building — big enough for Eriel to be able to sit beneath for protection from the weather. He’s used to sitting outside for prolonged periods of time, but he appreciates the cover anyways. It will certainly help to keep his notes neat at least.

With the few minutes he has before class begins, Eriel puts down his backpack and digs out his notebook and pencil. The set was a gift from his mom — the pages were re-usable and the pencil was designed to provide more or less endless writing. Once he settles down in his dorm, he’ll be able to type everything up on the computer that the school provided him with, but this combination is much more efficient for carrying between classes.

Intro to English Literature, Eriel writes on the first page, taking his time in making the headline look pretty. It gives him an excuse to keep his head down and avoid the watchful gaze of the other students around him.

It’s only when the bell rings that he at last looks up, positioning his face so he can clearly see the blackboard through the window.

“Good morning, class,” the professor says as she enters the room. Her brown hair is done up in a bun and a pair of quirky glasses accentuate her wide grin. Her smile falters as her eyes meet Eriel’s, but props to her for managing to keep up the expression at all. The same can’t be said for the other ten or so students sitting in the classroom, who look back at him with expressions ranging from fear to disgust to cold interest.

“I’m Professor Dockerty,” the teacher continues, her introduction regaining the attention of most of the students. One boy is a bit slower to turn away, his blue gaze unabashedly staring right at Eriel. And then, the boy — Ashton, based on his response as Professor Dockerty takes attendance — smiles at him.

Okay, it’s more of a smirk, but even that’s better than the other looks.

“Did I miss anyone?” the professor asks.

Eriel gulps but shyly raises a hand, limbs tense and heart pounding as he draws additional attention to himself. A few of the students flinch as his fingers come into view of the window, and upon seeing that reaction, Eriel immediately puts his hand back down. Hot shame rises in his chest and his cheeks burn as he realizes the fear that a simple one of his actions could cause.

“I don’t think I heard my name, ma’am,” the giant all but whispers, desperately wishing for this moment to be over already.

Professor Dockerty laughs nervously, glancing down at her papers again. “Oh my, I must have missed it. Eriel, correct? Our giant student? Great! Well, if that's everyone then let’s start by going over the syllabus.”

Eriel doesn’t get a chance to say anything throughout her ramble, but the professor is already handing out paper packets to the students.. There are just enough for everyone in the room. Eriel doesn’t even bother asking if there are any extras for him.

[savagewildnerness]

O Earthly Lestat, I see now the trouble I’m going to have with S3 is I may have to defend Nicolas a lot…. And I don’t even know how he’ll be written for TV. But I know he means too much to me, and that’s just that. In a way Nicolas means the most to me. Not that he means more to me than Lestat. But that the elements of Nicolas that I relate to (& importantly as you can never get over this feeling - that I related to as a 12-year-old) I cannot think of any other instance in literature or any other fictional character I could relate to or who so exactly articulated something about me. And so I cannot help but always fight for Nicki 100% (even though I am not like Nicki in all ways.)

I want to CLARIFY! This is not some “Nicolas was Lestat’s actual great love” point of view in ANY WAY! LOUIS, is Lestat’s great love!

But this is: Nicolas loved Lestat. It wasn’t only Lestat who loved Nicki. And Nicolas loving Lestat enabled Lestat to love Louis.

I find it beautiful. YES, Nickistat ended AWFULLY! (And that there was mutual love makes it all the more tragic and beautiful to me!) But I just need to say here…

People acknowledge how much of Louis’ words in IWTV are shaded by his own struggles…. So I can’t understand why so many people seem to take Nicolas’ words in his final argument with Lestat (by which point, with whatever nuance you cut it, Nicolas is as described by EVERYONE as a mad vampire, his mind lost!) as 100% his always-truth!!!?! I just cannot comprehend it!!!?! I’d love if anyone would like to explain how you can see it that way, especially after reading the actual way Nicolas was pre-Paris, in Paris, when Lestat was stolen away… all until the moment he witnesses Lestat be shot. THEN it shifts for Nicki!

I’m also not one for blaming Armand for Nicki’s demise. The tragedy of Nicolas is, Lestat is very responsible for Nicolas’ demise, and simultaneously all Lestat did, he did through love. There are a thousand ways Nicki’s tragic demise is Shakespearean inevitable resonance… and yet…

But yeah, it’s actually primarily because of his music & things around his music that Nicki matters so much to me. But nevertheless, he matters & I shall fight for him!!! Lestat and Nicki's conversation matters deeply to me too, and what Nicki is for Lestat in that conversation. But where I connect with Nicki is in his music and how he feels about his music. I personally connect with Lestat's worldview on the other hand. Although in my personality, I am my self, of course, I also relate to some elements of each of them.

The thing with Nicolas I suppose for me though is there are various aspects of his self I relate to that I have never felt anywhere else except in my own self. Not in fiction & not in anyone I have ever known in reality either. And I guess that’s why I will always fight for him. Also, because most people should understand Lestat - we’re so in his heart & head 💛. But we don’t hear the story from Nicolas’ point of view, yet for me, at times it is like he is absolutely in my own mind & heart or I am in his, or it’s the same thing in some odd way I can’t quite articulate. I feel seen by him, and I see him. I understand some parts of him, reflecting how by existing in fiction, he has understood me.

Back to Nicolas. He kept Lestat’s dressing room at Renaud’s as a literal shrine to Lestat. He fought with his friends over Lestat’s moral integrity after Lestat went missing. Even when Lestat was gone, Nicki was still loving him, fighting for him, staying at Renaud’s, wearing rings Lestat sent him. If he felt as he said in his final argument, why did Nicolas even stay working at Renaud's at all? Why was Nicolas so distressed when Lestat sent him lots of money and gifts but didn't ever contact him?

I just list these things, which are just a few ways we see Nicki's feelings through his concrete actions. Nicolas truly did resent Lestat in the end. Just as Lestat couldn’t stand the sight of vampire Nicolas. But even that doesn’t negate love.

Mortal Nicolas DESPERATELY needed Lestat’s light. Vampire Nicki doesn’t. And I see his cruelty in the final argument (while not being entirely absent of truth) as being partly founded in love…. Nicki knows the dark thing he now is & he knows, even in his addled mind Lestat won’t leave him… and he knows Lestat. He knows Lestat must leave him or he’ll take Lestat to his death with him.

It’s ok that love was once & isn’t eternal. It’s ok that Nicki’s love for Lestat did exist, but turned to hate & yet was never entirely lost. It’s ok that Lestat’s love for Nicki never diminished even though he couldn’t stand the sight of him as a vampire. These things don’t negate love. Hate can be part of love. It’s ok that their worldviews were fundamentally different. It’s ok they were not each other’s eternal loves. There was love. Deep and mutual love.

As I see it, we can accept & enjoy that they BOTH loved each other, and that fact only deepens Loustat.

By which time, Nicolas is long dead.

But I genuinely believe when they were mortal, Nicolas’ love for all of Lestat (even when envying him too!) meant Lestat could later love the all of Louis so unconditionally, as he had been loved that way before.

It’s an unpopular opinion, I know. But it’s mine. I express it with acknowledgment I can’t be objective about Nicolas. But that doesn’t lessen the strength of my truth!

In all honesty… we are all subjective humans. Can we be objective about any fictional character we have an emotional connection with?

And that’s the crux of it: when you CARE so much, ultimately it’s about whatever truth you need.

Maybe we ought to think on this on all of our favourite characters & imagine how it might apply to others for any character we love less unconditionally ourselves…?

[mariacallous]

The target is you, voter. Russia, China, Iran, and other bad actors sought to interfere in the run-up to today’s US elections, according to research by the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab (DFRLab), which has been monitoring online trends along with statements by governments, private companies, and civil society in its Foreign Interference Attribution Tracker. As DFRLab experts detail below, this year’s malign efforts in many ways surpass previous influence campaigns in sophistication and scope, if not in impact—and they are expected to continue well after the polls close.

Tipping the scale

“By sheer volume, foreign interference in the 2024 US election has already surpassed the scale of adversarial operations in both 2016 and 2020,” Emerson says.

Dina notes that each US adversary played to its strengths. For example, Iran and China “attempted to breach presidential campaigns in hack-and-leak operations that raise concerns about their cyber capabilities during and after the elections,” she tells us.

At the same time, the United States is more prepared than it was in previous election cycles. Russian efforts in 2016 “made foreign interference a vivid fear for millions of Americans,” Emerson notes. “Eight years later, the US government is denouncing and neutralizing these efforts, sometimes in real time.”

In fact, Graham tells us, “the combined actions by the US departments of Justice, Treasury, and State against two known Russian interference efforts was the largest proactive government action taken against election influence efforts before an election.”

Doppelgangers and down-ballot races

US officials this week called Russia “the most active threat,” and it’s easy to understand why. Emerson notes Russia’s “ten-million-dollar effort to infiltrate and influence far-right American media,” alongside the “Doppelganger” network, which has spread “tens of thousands of false stories and staged videos intended to undermine election integrity in the swing states of Pennsylvania, Georgia, and Arizona.” Increasingly desperate, Russian actors have even sought to shut down individual polling places with fake bomb threats, he adds.

Meanwhile, China has focused on “down-ballot races instead of the presidential election to target specific anti-China politicians,” Kenton explains. Using fake American personas and generative artificial intelligence, China-linked operations have appeared across more than fifty platforms. Perhaps surprisingly, Kenton adds, “attributed campaigns appeared sparingly” on the Chinese-owned platform TikTok and far more often on Facebook and X.

Faith, fakes, and falsehoods 

“The primary aim is to erode Americans’ faith in democratic institutions and heighten chaos and social division,” Kenton explains, and thus to undermine the ability of the US government to function so it will have less bandwidth to contain adversarial powers.

“Some of the fake and already debunked narratives and footage circulating before the elections will likely continue to be amplified by foreign threat actors well after November 5,” Dina predicts. Expect to see activity around the submission of certificates of ascertainment on December 11, the December 17 meeting of the electors to formally cast their votes, and through inauguration day on January 20.

And in a post-election period where the results will likely be contested, Graham thinks there’s a “high likelihood” that foreign actors will “cross a serious threshold” from pre-election attempts to broadly influence American public opinion in service of their geopolitical interests to “direct interference” by trying to mobilize Americans to engage in protests or even violence.

Nevertheless, Graham points out that the high volume of foreign-influence efforts observed during this year’s election cycle so far does not appear to have had a significant impact in terms of changing Americans’ opinions or behavior.  

The consequences of foreign disinformation, Emerson adds, should be assessed against “the far more viral, sophisticated, and dangerous election-day falsehoods that Americans spread among themselves.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hey there!! I hope this question isn't too morbid, but im writing a story where prisoners are often sold to this circus who puts on shows for aristocrats/basically anyone else who can afford it but the prisoners are like....literally torturing each other and being tortured for entertainment. I've never really been someone whos into horror/thrillers, so im not sure where to look to research it. I was wondering if you had any suggestions for performances which would be morbidly entertaining for a fucked up audience, but also lethal and deadly for the "entertainers" themselves? (Or if it'd be easier to suggest media to research this type of topic, i'd love that as well!)

Thank you so much, i love your blog!!

Writing Notes: Dangerous Performances

Hi! You could draw inspiration from dangerous types of performances throughout history, some of which were for the entertainment of the ruling class. You can consider altering them to better fit your story. Here are some examples I found for you:

Though many ancient Romans lived very hard lives, there were still plenty of options for entertainment. This ranged from music and theatre to more bloody past times like the gladiator arena.

One of the famous figures associated with ancient Rome was the gladiator. The image of brawny warriors battling to death in gigantic marble amphitheaters for the amusement of a rabidly cheering crowd was indeed powerful.

The Roman Arena was a place of entertainment for Romans. The games were often brutal and bloody. At first they were mostly put on for memorials or funerals, but later they were put on for many occasions including birthdays and victories. The games were paid for by wealthy individuals and were used for that person to gain popularity with the people. Julius Caesar became very popular by putting on large public games and theatre.

Animals in the Arena: Sometimes the games would last all day. At the start of the day they would use exotic wild animals such as bears, lions, rhinos and elephants. Sometimes the animals would fight each other, sometimes the animals would be hunted by huntsmen, and sometimes criminals would be thrown into the arena to be killed by wild animals.

The ordered beauty of the Colosseum is in stark contrast to the murderous encounters that took place within it. Bloody Spectacles at Ancient Rome’s Colosseum:

Staged Naval Battles

Exotic Animal Fights

Forest Hunting

Human Executions

Gladiator Battles

Roman boxing. Far different than the boxing developed by the Greeks, was considered more of a gladiatorial show than an athletic contest. While the crowds were smaller than at the amphitheater and circus, boxing was an important part of public entertainment. Unlike Greek boxers, who wore leather thongs around their knuckles for protection and performed for prizes at the prestigious Panhellenic games, Romans used gloves with pieces of metal placed around the knuckles (caestus) to inflict the most damage possible. Moreover, there was no time limit or weight classification. Proclaiming a winner resulted from either a knockout or the conceding of defeat by one of the boxers.

The oldest games in Rome were the chariot races. Typical chariots used for the races were drawn by a team of four horses (quadriga). The races required two long tracks and two 180-degree turns. Like gladiatorial shows and boxing, races were extremely dangerous, since chariots often collided or went out of control. If a driver fell out of his chariot, he could easily be dragged along or trampled to death by the horses. Nevertheless, there was no shortage of drivers, as eager young charioteers risked their lives for reward and recognition.

Spectacle was an integral part of life in the Roman world. Some forms of spectacle—triumphal processions, aristocratic funerals, and public banquets, for example—took as their backdrop the city itself.

Others were held in purpose-built spectator buildings: theatres for plays and other scenic entertainment, amphitheaters for gladiatorial combats and wild beast shows, stadia for athletic competitions, and circuses for chariot races. As a whole, this pervasive culture of spectacle served both as a vehicle for self-advertisement by the sociopolitical elite and as a means of reinforcing the shared values and institutions of the entire community.

“In the end, the games were about othering people and dehumanizing them,” Nathan Elkins says, deputy director of the American Numismatic Society. “It was about watching and enjoying somebody else suffer because Romans felt they were better and more privileged.”

Thanks to their favoured position in life and the labour of the peasants on their estates, nobles in an English medieval castle had plenty of leisure hours.

Tournaments

Gave knights the chance to hone their skills with horses and weapons in a relatively safe and controlled environment, although there could be injuries and fatalities despite the precautions.

The competitions took two formats, either a mêlée, which was a mock cavalry battle where knights had to capture each other for a ransom or the joust where a single rider armed with a lance charged at an opponent who was similarly armed.

To minimise the risk of injury, weapons were adapted such as the fitting of a three-pointed head to the lance in order to reduce the impact and swords were blunted (rebated). Such weapons became known as 'arms of courtesy' or à plaisance.

The popular Round Table tournaments involved knights dressing up as characters from the legends of King Arthur who then jousted and feasted in costume.

Watched by an audience which included the local aristocratic ladies, motivation to perform and display chivalry was high.

There were also prizes such as a gold crown, jewels, or a prized hawk so that many knights made a living doing a tour of tournament events across Europe.

Even if a local tournament was not perhaps a regular event, one could at least practice for them.

A common device to hone one's lancing skills was the quintain - a rotating arm with a shield at one end and a weight at the other. A knight had to hit the shield and keep riding on to avoid being hit in the back by the weight as it swung around.

Another device was a suspended ring which the knight had to catch and remove with the tip of his lance.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Previous posts you might find useful: Horror ⚜ Psychological Thriller ⚜ Book Genres

[olekciy]

    A short reminder that Russia is imperialist, has been imperialist for a long time, and there's no way around that fact.

Sections of the Western left have developed a narrative according to which Russia has been gradually surrounded by NATO and that supposedly "provoked" Putin. It's increasingly difficult to sustain the notion that Russia is simply "defending itself" after 24 February 2022, but the thing is - the invasion did not come out of the blue. One needs a different narrative to understand what Russia actually is: an aggressive imperialist power alongside other imperialisms.

So, a different narrative:

- 1994: Russia, with US support, acquires Ukrainian nuclear arsenal in exchange for the assurances to respect Ukraine's territorial integrity

- 1997: Russia acquires the Sevastopol naval base and almost all of the ships (82%, to be exact)... in exchange for the assurances to respect Ukraine's territorial integrity!

- 2004: Russia meddles in Ukrainian presidential elections, fighting hard to force an undemocratic fraudulent outcome, but fails

- Mid-to-late 2000s: As punishment for Ukraine electing Yushchenko, Russia uses energy blackmail, a form of economic coercion not very different from the IMF and World Bank lending and conditionality

- 2008: NATO refuses to adopt a roadmap towards Ukraine's membership and in effect postpones the decision indefinitely. Ukraine's security is in no way guaranteed, while Russia has already demonstrated the propensity to use coercion to force Ukraine to do its bidding

- 2009: Dmitry Medvedev, then president, writes to Yushchenko that "Russia does not pose and cannot pose any kind of threat to Ukraine", so seeking NATO membership is stupid. Yea, sure

- 2014: Russia, which "does not pose and cannot pose a threat to Ukraine"... annexes Crimea. Really, Dima?? I thought you were for real??

Of course, by annexing Crimea Russia not only makes all the previous statements that it "can never pose a threat to Ukraine" a ridiculous lie, but also breaks the 1994 memorandum and 1997 treaty. "We are the Kremlin. Our word is worth nothing"

- Crimea's annexation provokes armed separatism in Donbas that Russia supports and coordinates, including direct military command and control, and then completely subordinates Donbas "authorities", in effect occupying the region

- Ukraine's still not in NATO, its security is still in no way guaranteed, and the supplies of US weapons only begin in 2018. They are kept to a minimum... out of fear of provoking Russia!

- Nevertheless, on 24 February 2022 Russia launches a full-scale invasion to establish 100% control over all of Ukraine in one way or another. There is literally no military development on the ground that could have provoked the invasion. On Russia's part, it's a war of choice in exactly the same way the invasion of Iraq was a war of choice for the US in 2003.

Now, this is only the general outline. One should add Russia's drowning of Ukraine with spies and agents of influence, money to corrupt Ukrainian politicians and massive acquisition of Ukrainian assets to impose economic and political dependency.

These are well-known facts, but so many on the left refuse to see the story behind them. It's a story of decades of imperialist aggression, culminating in a war that cost 150,000 lives in 2022 alone. Any discussion of left-wing internationalism should begin with recognizing the reality of what Russia is and what it did.

[askpiratedash]

It been a while, aye. But I had t' be seein' ye all on Talk Like A Pirate Day. Let's not be makin' the next visit so long. YARR!

((So yeah, it's been a while. How many of you still remember the running pirate? Or even realize you were still following this blog?

Is this the start or a comeback for PD in a world where there are far fewer eyes on it than 5 years ago? Well...yes and no. Let's address the no part first.

You'll notice this is just a sketch. I never really liked posting just sketches on this blog, unless it's fanart that deserves the spotlight. But in order to give PD the comeback she deserves, we need full color here. And I just don't have that capability right now with the computers I have. So until I get a better computer, all I can really post here are sketches. But a few guys are fine with that...

There's also life. A lot has happened in the past five years. A lot of bad has happened, but so has a lot of good. I'm finally in a spot where I want to be in my career. But it takes a lot out of me each day. So the sporadic and random updates from before would become less than what it was. Does that mean there's going to be another gap of five years between posts? No, but this blog may not update as much as you and I would like upon a return. Nevertheless...

Now to the yes part. Pirate Dash and this blog have been an integral part of Tumblrpon and the MLP fandom community as a whole. And she does not deserve an ending where it's radio silence and you wonder if you'll ever hear from her again. There will be an ending. I don't know what that looks like right now. But there is a dedication to put a final chapter and a bow on this blog and her story.

Ideally, the goal is to crank out updates again in the new year. Kind of getting back into the groove. And maybe that does include sketch posts until I can get to full color. But there will be effort to bring PD back. I promise you that.))

[sonofthesaiyans]

Attack on Titan's blackest moment.....

Four years ago today, and it still hurts to know it came to this for her. A character who was so iconic and beloved, a girl who seemed destined for so much more.

Four years ago, the last we saw of our beloved Potato Girl, Sasha Braus.

She truly had a great thing going, an strong, energetic, yet frightened young woman who nevertheless fought through the ugliness of the world inside the Walls, and grew into one of its most able protectors when the call came. She often seemed out of place in the Scouts, but truly represented what they stood for.

She had everything to be even greater and stronger, perhaps one of the heroes of humanity in the final fight against Eren.

And all of that was thrown away.....And for what? FOR THIS:

Gabi Braun will always be a vile, obnoxious, and unnecessary sack of shit who existed only to hold down the entire series, by stealing Sasha's rightful place in a circle of characters where she will always be the odd one out that NEVER should have been.

I don't give a fuck what her defenders say, and for them to continue she's a well written character is all in service of Isayama's worst deceit. All of Attack on Titan's final act exists only to push this goddamn little usurper, with every trick in the book pulled to pry sympathy for a character who was given zero likable traits and was too late to the scene for any investment to feel legitimate. All for the most contrived and dishonest character arc in the history of anime. There's a right and a wrong way to do redemption arcs, and Gabi Braun is a prime example of how it can be abused at the expense of the story. This is what happens when you let an author show open disrespect to the fandom by blatantly playing favorites through the entire context of the story, which essentially carried Gabi all the way to the end by forcing her into the main plot in the worst way imaginable.

The fact that any chance Sasha had at an ongoing arc in season four, to take part in the final fight against Eren and the fact that her killer was given a fucking happy conclusion at the expense of her own is a grave insult to someone who was not even allowed to go out with any real dignity. One who had been with us ever since the beginning.

No worse image than that of Sasha bleeding out, unable to speak, with her memory exploited by Isayama at every turn simply to push whatever agenda he sought to fulfill with the biggest bitch in anime.

Such a grave injustice. And we so richly deserved to see Gabi receive some for what she did.

Should have let Kaya finish the job, Mikasa. You OWED Sasha that much. NONE OF YOU owed anything to that fucking little shit.

And she's certainly not owed any of our sympathy. This kid had no conscience to speak of before her life was directly threatened.

Was what we lost REALLY worth it all?

Assassin's Bullet is and remains one of the WORST things I've ever seen in my life, and it singlehandedly tainted my experience with both manga and anime. It'll forever be one of the worst things in any anime, and we still deserve more and BETTER from Sasha Braus. The only redemption I want is a redemption from this travesty's very existence.

Forever remember Sasha Braus. Her big heart, her laugh, her kindness, her hunger for all the good things in life, her incredible integrity and selflessness........It's a loss that still feels far too real. And she deserves better than to be remembered as a mere tool for such a shameful and manipulative sideshow as what Hajime Isayama dealt us.

To the real heart of Attack on Titan, I will love you always Sasha Braus.

There is no Attack on Titan without Sasha.

[ananke-xiii]

About Sam Winchester.

[This post has been edited after my discussion with @samjgirl , @sam-winchester-admiration-league and after @adaav 's comment to my post. I really want to thank them for their time and for pointing many interesting points out. I wasn't well informed about the techniques of storytelling and I believe I lost a bit of focus after season 11. Now I'm actually happier as I've started to even more appreciate this character, so win-win for me!]

The character of Sam Winchester was my biggest surprise and my biggest disappointment while watching Supernatural (but it's not his fault). [EDIT: while I still don't particularly like (for now) s12-15, I've realized that my disappoint was more due to my ignonorance of storytelling techniques rather than by the way the character was written]

It was my biggest surprise because I had never related to a fictional character this much before. I think you just have to both be the younger sibling of a dysfunctional nuclear family and be trauma-bonded to your elder sibling to get it. I won't go into further details about it because it's a whole essay, but I have to mention it because I need to state that I feel a deep connection to Sam. We both made the same choices, the same "mistakes", the same sacrifices.

So I was astonished when I started Supernatural because of the way it felt true and real. I don't know if the writers lived similar experiences and were therefore able to tell this story truthfully, but they nevertheless did a hell of a job in describing the unique bond of two siblings trying their best to navigate their traumas.

From season 1 to 8-9ish, we see Sam morphing from being the hero of the story to one of the two main characters. [EDIT: this is incorrect, Sam has always been the hero of the story. I think I felt like he was "shifting" into a slightly less prominent role because Dean, as supporting protagonist, was given more space in order to proceed with the filler episodes]Slowly but surely, Dean also becomes the hero and I think that was fair. [EDIT: see above, technically this is incorrect, sorry lol!]You can't fully narrate the story of a bond withouth fully integrate one part of it. I loved all the parallels to Michael/Lucifer and Cain/Abel. I thought they were brilliant. The show allowed me to go deep inside and start sorting out some stuff I've lived. It really made me think a lot.

It's fair to say that the brothers' codependency was the crux of their problem. It was painful to watch and sometimed downright awkward but the writers got it all right: the otherwise unxeplicable and toxic jealousy they felt for one another, the inability to share their deepest feelings in way other than fighting, and hell yes, even Sam's decision to run away and not look for his brother after season 7. It was not OOC, it's exactly what he did when he was 18 and what John did as well 4 years after that. As a matter of fact, Sam is more similar to John than Dean could ever be.

It's definitely been a long journey but I find that the resolution of their codependency (in season ELEVEN!) was cleverly thought-out and brilliantly executed. It couldn't have happened before, the two bothers must have been either already in or close to their 30s to confront the knot, to acknwoledge the grip the trauma they've lived had on their life. Sometimes getting older does help and give you perspective. This might be why (as I've stated here) season 11 is my favourite one: it gives a sense of closure and hope.

However, here comes the biggest disappointment part. [EDIT: this is due to the fact that in part, I didn't fully get it]

After season 11 Sam morphs from one of the two main characters to a side character. [EDIT: incorrect, as per previous EDIT, Sam is always the hero and lead protagonist]The show must be about the brothers' bond and I'm okay with that. However, it looks like after season 11 the writers couldn't come up with new ideas to talk about this kind of bond. It felt like, other than co-dependency, the bond didn't have much to say. Therefore, both Sam and Dean almost go back to square one while they had all the possibilities to explore a new aspect of their relationship.

What could've been this new aspect? Easy: making them realize that the family they each wanted was, simply, different. This is just my opinion on the subject and how I've felt about season 12-15 so it's okay if you disagree. [EDIT: well, this is still my opinion, although it has nothing to do with Sam's narrative role in the story and more about my personal preference, so I think this is where I got confused]

In my opinion, from season 12 Sam is just a part of Dean's family. It's not "Sam&Dean"'s family. It's just Dean's. And I think the writers could've explored that in a more meaningful way. Let me explain: let's take Cas since he makes the perfect example for this scenario. Dean has repeatedly included Cas in the "family", he's called him not just his brother but "our brother". He includes Sam in the equation but I personally don't think Sam feels the same way. Sure, Sam cares for Cas and thinks he's family, but I think his idea of family is "Cas is my brother's husbandbest friend and therefore he's part of the family". He's extended family, kind of. [EDIT: this is still just my opinion and has nothing to do with Sam's narrative role. Although "family" is one of the themes of the show, it was not the only one]

My opinion is canonically backed because, aside from Rowena, all the members of the Winchesters Found Family are part of the family because Dean has allowed them, Dean has a deeper relatioship to them and ultimately because Dean decides who can enter the circle. This is totally in character and I love Dean for his ability to care and form deep bonds. [EDIT: this was also needed for Dean as a character because he's not the lead protagonist so he had to have something else in the story that was not necessarily connected to the mytharc]

However, this is not in Sam's character: Sam is the one who runs away, the one who wants to create his own family, the one who really needs to emancipate himself from his older brother. I truly wished the writers explored his passivity in "accepting" the status quo and made him, if not rebel, at least express his wants.

It would have been a moment in Sam's growth if he could've just, instead of running away, confronted his brother and stated that his desires were different, that he was part of Dean's family but it was not his family. Instead, we only have glimpes of what Sam really feels: he doesn't think of the bunker as his home, he doesn't ever say that he has a family (not surprisingly it's Dean that in "Lebanon" tells John "I have a family" and not Sam), he doesn't really have any other meaningful relationship aside from his brother.

Supernatural ending did him dirty, too. Not just for the awful wig and make-up but because the ending framed Sam as a two-dimensional character: "freed" from his brother and his brother's family, he finds a blurry wife, a dog, a son, a white picket fence. How sad is that? We never get to see Sam really connecting with anyone: all (and by all I really mean ALL) the women in his life, from his mother to one-night-stands while on the road passing through Ruby, end up dead (RIP Sarah Blake). Of course his wife at the end had to be a blurry figure in the backfround (she was not even besides him on his deathbed!): she was a testament to all of his past relationships. Like, seriously, apart from Dean, the ONLY lasting relationship Sam has throughout the whole series is with LUCIFER and this alone, I think, speaks volume. [EDIT: again this just relates to the fact that I'm not particularly fond of s12-15 and of the overall ending. Technically speaking, the ending makes sense. Whether I liked it or not is another issue]

In conclusion, after season 11 Sam is no longer an interesting character because the writers both downright refused to give him another substantial character to interact with and insisted once again on his codependency with Dean (which was already resolved). [EDIT, tbh it was a weak ending to begin with, LOL, I didn't like it even after I wrote it hahahhaa, but yeah, as this whole post proves Sam Winchester is far from being an uninteresting character because I just spent a frigging afternoon learning new things thanks to him so I guess he's like the gift that keeps on giving!]

Having said that, in my heart of hearts, Sam Winchester will always have a special place because I get him, I really do.