#in true german fashion

[boowritess]

babies!?!?!

simon ghost riley x reader

"Aw I can't wait to see the two of you with your own little one running around." Your sister gushes as Simon balances her baby on his lap while you play with your nephew.

At her words you and Simon give eachother a side eyes. A smile tugs at the corner of Simon's scarred lips, whilst you puff out an airy laugh.

The whole baby conversation was nothing new, and because you and Simon had been together for so long, people were quick to assume that the both of you would start thinking bout having children of your own.

Your sister didn't help, always cooing and awwing about how Simon was so good with the kids, especially your neice.

A large hand rests on your lower back, "Nah, we have our hands filled with Johnny." Simon sniggers, laughing more when you elbow his side. The baby in his lap looking up at him in surpise at the deep noise that emitted from the usually quiet man.

"But it would be so cute. Imagine having a little one that looks like the both of you-" You sister starts to go on her usual ramble about what your kids could potentially look like, how adorable it would be to see the both of you with kids of your own.

Later that evening, at your shared apartment, Simon chuckles as you walk over to where he's sat on the couch, "Looks a bit like you doesn't he?" Simon drawls.

You turn and the asshole has his large hand wrapped around your ginger cats face, his head turned to you. Despite the cats purring and tailing flicking in content, you scowl and wack Simon over the head. "Don’t hold my baby like that!" You snap, settling beside Simon, who releases your cat. The cat settling in your lap.

And in true ginger cat fashion, the very cat who was once purring in content in Simon's hands, scratched the very man who tried to pet him again.

"Scratches like you." Simon huffs, pulling his hand away.

You just chuckle, eyes locked on the four legged creature that bouncrd into the room, "And Riley doesn't listen, like you..." You chime in amusement, watching the dog.

Simon turns his head to the German Shepherd and scowls once he see the mask hanging from Rikey's mouth. The dog having the audacity to wag its tail.

"Fuck sake, Riley, I said no!" Simon growls getting up from the couch and chasing after the dog that barks and runs away from the man.

You watch in content as your cat purs in content in your lap while Simon chases the dog around the apartment.

From this perspective it seemed like you already have your own little one running around doesn't it?

a/n: on my anti-baby agenda lol these the only babies i want in my life oop x

[23victoria]

Passing the Phone

f1 grid x reader

warnings: cussing, unhinged, satire, complete jokes (are they?...), dark humor ig…idk, talk of age gaps, sa allegations, no just kidding...very much reading people to the filth

authors note: lmaoo don’t ask me why i wrote this cause idk…but this is so unhinged 😭😭 please don’t take offense to this and if you do…i said don’t…all jokes i love them, some of them, you can find it funny or you won’t, just wanted to get this out of my drafts

want to be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist

Video starts with Y/N holding the phone, in selfie mode.

Y/N: I'm passing the phone to someone who had the biggest breakup in F1 history with a blond German boy named Nico.

Lewis: Babe, no!

Y/N: What, too soon? It's been years but okay! Sorry! Okay, let me start again. I'm passing the phone to someone who said "Fuck Mercedes" and is going to Ferrari for 2025!

Lewis: Y/N, no!! You cannot say that! You’re gonna get me in trouble!!

Y/N: Fine, fine, fine. I'm passing the phone to the GOAT of this generation with the most wins in F1 history, yet he was robbed of the championship in 2021.

Y/N passes the phone to Lewis.

Lewis: stares at Y/N then laughs “I'm passing the phone to someone who is known more for his memes than driving skills.”

Lewis passes the phone to George.

George: laughs “Hahaha real funny…I'm passing the phone to someone who took six years to get their first win."

Lando: “Dude, what the fuck?! Fuck you, Woody! I'm passing the phone to someone who's younger than me yet acts years older than me.”

Oscar: “....You're not funny... I'm passing the phone to someone who's most likely losing their seat next season.”

Logan: “The fuck, Oscar! I thought we were friends! Low blow, mate. I'm passing the phone to someone who has yet to get P1, yet all his friends who got into F1 after him have won races already.”

Alex: “....And that, Logan, is why you're losing your seat. Mr. What The Fuck is A Kilometer. Anyway, I'm passing the phone to someone who just got brutally murdered by an interviewer on Sky Sports regarding their F1 career, if you could call it that.”

Daniel: “You shouldn’t be talking Mr. I Have No Wins….eat shit…I'm passing the phone to the shortest person on the grid but cusses more than anyone here.”

Yuki: “That interviewer was right, why the fuck do you still have a seat in F1?!! Dickhead. I'm passing the phone to a man with good fashion sense and his teammate might steal his seat.”

Zhou: “Bro….really. I'm passing the phone to someone who acts like he's Australian when he’s not…oh, and his seat is at risk too.”

Bottas: “Yeah, yeah, whatever mate. I'm passing the phone to someone who has enough penalties in just nine races that he can be banned from racing in F1… permanently.

Kevin: “You're so funny, Bottas, hahaha…ha. I'm passing the phone to a dickhead.”

Nico: “Fuck you too asshole. I'm passing the phone to a person who has a shitty ass dad who deserves to be in jail.”

Max: burst out laughing “Ah, no lies told there. I'm passing the phone to someone who only has a seat to protect me from having any real competition…”

You laugh in the background “Oh shit.”

Checo: blank stare “Motherfucker! That just shows your true colors... I'm passing the phone to... who am I supposed to pass it to... uhhh... Y/N.

Takes phone 

Y/N: “Oh, I know! I'm passing the phone to someone who has sexual assault “allegations” against them, but the FIA wants to hide it. I can’t go near him for my safety, so I’ll just turn the camera towards him... *pans the camera to Christian Horner*

Everyone is stunned and silent, then there’s Lewis laughing in the background 

Y/N: “Oh! I have another one! Hey Kelly, “i hear you like them young”, to be more specific at the ripe age of 17... mhmmm, she's a pedoo. What Kendrick say “TRYNA STRIKE A CORD AND ITS PROBABLY A MINNORRRR” *pans the camera to Kelly Piquet*

silence.

Lewis: runs towards Y/N and grabs the camera “Yup, that's enough for today. You're trying to start problems and get people beat up”

Video ends with Lewis taking the phone away from Y/N, shaking his head while laughing.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ☆ .*₊ .• ☆.°.• .

✿ .° • everything taglist • °. ✿ : @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @magixpracticality @exotic-iris13 @tellybearryyyy @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly

@eoduuung

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ☆ .*₊ .• ☆.°.• .

*sooooo……that’s the end….LMFAOOOO, again…DO NOT COME FOR ME…ITS JOKES (is it really though)*

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[blorbocedes]

true hate's kiss for brocedes

Toto calls just as Lewis is about to go film a vine with Kendall Jenner.

"Lewis, we need you back at the office. We have a, erm, delicate situation."

"What do you mean?"

"As you are aware of the generous Petronas sponsor gift - the cursed spindle - that sits in our factory."

"The cursed spindle which sends you to sleep for millennia, yeah."

"Well, it appears Nico has accidentally made contact with the spindle, and subsequently fallen into a deep slumber. If this is not rectified immediately, he of course cannot race this weekend."

Lewis tugs at his collar. He'd much rather be on a yacht in his free time than make the drive all the way to Brackley just to help out Nico.

"Yeah, so call his wife. True love's kiss and all that."

Toto pauses for a second. "Ah, Lewis. This isn't a cursed spindle from fairy tales," he says in a condescending tone, "Only a kiss borne from true hatred will wake him."

Oh.

If Nico sleeps through the weekend, that's Lewis' championship secured. He's sure if he was ahead in the points, Nico wouldn't wake him if the situation was reversed. Maybe. He just might, just to hold it over Lewis' head.

Lewis stops himself from saying he can't kiss him because he's a man. It's 2016, and homophobia is totally cringe. So instead, he opts for the safer: "I can't be going around kissing married men! A bunch of people hate Nico, just get one of his haters or someone from Sky Sports."

It is a part of their sport, with adoring fans comes also passionate haters.

The phone is wrestled from Toto, and the German voice of Vivian speaks through. "Lewis, I swear to god if you do not get your ass back right now to kiss my husband. I still have all the negatives from the parties from my Nokia digital camera."

Lewis winces thinking of his mid 2000s fashion. Well, that's permission from the missus.

At Brackley, Nico's on a bed breathing steadily. He totally looks like he's just asleep. Lewis isn't sure they're not pulling an elaborate prank on him.

"We'll, uh, give you some privacy." Toto closes the door where Vivian and other Mercedes employees were watching.

Nico's lips are the slightest touch of red from where, presumably, Vivian had already tried her true love luck. This better be worth it.

Lewis breathes in. Imagines Nico telling the press he didn't really lose the championship because he didn't get a fair shot, because of the curse. Implying slyly that Lewis' title is illegitimate, in that annoying know-it-all way he could spin things. He imagines Nico never waking up, forever frozen like this. It would probably make the work environment better. Never have to ignore each other over breakfast, awkwardly hold the elevator when they leave their Monaco apartment at the same time, never spend race weekends trying to stick the knife into the other, metaphorically.

Wake up, motherfucker, Lewis thinks, no love lost between them. Wake up so I can fucking beat you.

And not for the first time in his life, Lewis brushes his lips against Nico's.

Nico gasps, opening his eyes.

[spiritually-a-deer]

୨⎯ 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷⎯୧

♡ about me ♡

౨ৎ you can call me elodie (she/her) ^^

౨ৎ 15 yrs old

౨ৎ deer disguised as an insane teenage girl

౨ৎ infp and aquarius

౨ৎ german (whatever stereotype youre thinking of rn im not like it)

౨ৎ hopeless romantic

౨ৎ married to evan peters, cillian murphy, kurt cobain, tim burton, emma watson, taissa farmiga, mia goth, winona ryder, helena bonham carter, elizabeth grant and brittany murphy

౨ৎ hobbies: reading, writing, girlblogging, listening to music and true crime pods, watching movies and shows, baking and yapping with my very few but lovely friends

౨ৎ books: the bell jar, the virgin suicides, my year of rest and relaxation, christiane f, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, the picture of dorian gray, the silent patient, the secret history, tributes of panem, harry potter, enola holmes, truly devious, the little prince and literally anything by kafka, rick riordan and holly jackson

౨ৎ movies: girl interrupted, black swan, thirteen, american psycho, perks of being a wallflower, jennifers body, pearl, buffalo 66, coraline, dead poets society, léon: the professional, the menu, the craft, my girl, i believe in unicorns, ten things i hate about you, wicked 2024 and literally anything by sofia coppola, tim burton, david fincher, greta gerwig, wes anderson and studio ghibli

౨ৎ shows: ahs (favs are murder house, coven and asylum), skins, arcane, gilmore girls, bojack horseman, stranger things, spn, barbie: life in the dream house, asoue, obx, heartstopper and ianowt

౨ৎ music: lana, mitski, nirvana, hole, mazzy star, fiona apple, ethel cain, deftones, radiohead, the smiths, fleetwood mac, tv girl, marina, tyler the creator, queen, david bowie, arctic monkeys, the nbhd, ayesha erotica, solya, bambi baker and a lot more

౨ৎ other things i love: art, poetry, cats, deers, swans, iced coffee, dr pepper, trees, old parks, cemeteries, coquette, grunge, y2k, lego flowers, spotify, tumblr and pinterest

♡ about my blog ♡

i'll post relatable girl stuff, my interests, fashion inspo, moodboards, random thoughts and whatever i feel like ^^ everythings mine unless i say otherwise

dms are always open if you wanna talk or be friends <3 i love meeting new people ^^ if you wanna be moots just tell me in my question box! you can also ask anything there, i love answering to these ^^

dni: racists, homophobes, transphobes, fascists, zionists, pedos, nsfw blogs, probably forgot some but yeah im a minor and liberal so i think you get the idea of what i don't tolerate

healthy and pro recovery ed and sh blogs without triggering imagery and stuff are totally ok but if you romanticise this shit, (re)post thin$po or scars and dont want to get better pls pls dni or i will report you bc im trying to improve my mental health and that stuff is not helping at all

♡ other socials ♡

other blog (dark coquette aesthetic)

other blog (dark green and gloomy aesthetic)

other blog (moodboards of my interests)

spotify (it's kinda messy im sorry)

pinterest (i post more whispers there)

⁠♡ ok i hope i did this right byeee angelss ⁠♡

[luckthebard]

My two takeaways from the additional songs on the Critmas album that released today:

Missed opportunity to not do at least one verse of “O Mighty Nein” in German, in true “O Tannenbaum” fashion.

Most of these are cute but the punk rock song really nailed the genre and is just. Good.

[omgthatdress]

Barbie made her debut in 1959. The way she was sold then is a little different than the way she's sold now. These days, individual Barbies come with their own unique looks & usually some kind of unique function or accessories. You can buy clothes separately, but those looks are still secondary to the expectation of buying a lot of Barbies. Back in the day, you bought the one Barbie and then bought her clothes separately. This is why back then Barbie came with a bunch of friends and always came wearing a swimsuit.

The oft-memed origin story for the classic Barbie is that she was modeled on a German sex doll named Lili, which is only partially true. In the 50s, most dolls available for girls were baby dolls that primed girls for being a wife and mother. Fashion dolls were a thing but they were generally more reserved for adults.

Ruth Handler, who co-founded Mattel with her husband and served as its president from 1945-1973 (#girlboss much?), got the idea of making an adult doll for girls when she'd see her daughters playing with paper dolls. Instead of playing with babies, they chose teen-aged and adult paper dolls and played fantasized versions of adulthood. Then, on a trip to Germany, Ruth saw a Lili doll in a store, and asked her daughters what they'd think of playing with a doll like that. Apparently, they liked the idea.

Lili the doll wasn't an inflatable fuck doll. She was based on a popular comic strip character Lili created by Reinhard Beuthien and published in the Hamburg-based Bild Zeitung. Lili was a buxom gold-digger seducing her way through the wealthy men of post-war West Germany.

The comic was definitely adult-oriented, and the doll it created was a popular bachelor party gag gift.

The introduction of a doll with breasts did cause *some* controversy, but it was more pearl-clutching rather than tremendous cultural outrage. Barbie was actually an immediate hit. She fit in very well to late 50s ideals of femininity. I've heard it said before that parents liked her because she helped little girls get into the beauty, fashion, and level of grooming that she would need to catch a husband. IDK if that was intentional, but it seems to fit very well.

I don't want to get into whether or not Barbie is this huge feminist icon or not because, well, she's a toy. I think Ruth Handler was an incredibly smart businesswoman who saw a market demand and met it. Barbie is about the power of fantasy and imagination, and anything that people see in her are the things they want to see in her.

In her incredible multitude of careers, she also holds up an impossible and toxic standard of beauty. Mattel has always been very aware of Barbie's image. I'm pretty sure that the reason Mattel hated "Barbie Girl" so much wasn't because it was wink-wink sexual, but because it nailed the popular stereotype of the time that Barbie was this fake, plastic bimbo who was an unhealthy role model for girls (go listen to Aquarium, now!).

The recent years of Barbie taking on a more empowering, feminist, and diverse lean is because Mattel is simply correcting course and keeping up with the times. Honestly, they've done a very good job of it, but I'm not going to kid myself into thinking they're doing anything other than maximizing profits.

I love me some Barbie but I was always an AG girl, ngl. However, I think Barbie and her cultural context are still incredibly fascinating and worth taking a look at.

[mask131]

The gods of Gaul: Introduction, or why it is so hard to find anything

As I announced, I open today a series of post covering what some can call the "Gaulish mythology": the gods and deities of Ancient Gaul. (Personal decision, I will try avoiding using the English adjective "Gaulish" because... I just do not like it. It sounds wrong. In French we have the adjectif "Gaulois" but "Gaulish"... sounds like ghoulish or garrish, no thank you. I'll use "of Gaul", much more poetic)

[EDIT: I have just found out one can use "Gallic" as a legitimate adjective in English and I am so happy because I much prefer this word to "Gaulish", so I'll be using Gallic from now on!]

If you are French, you are bound to have heard of them one way or another. Sure, we got the Greek and Roman gods coming from the South and covering up the land in temples and statues ; and sure we had some Germanic deities walking over the rivers and mountains from the North-East to leave holiday traditions and folk-beliefs... But the oldest gods of France, the true Antiquity of France, was Gaul. And then the Roman Gaul, and that's already where the problems start.

The mythology of Gaul is one of the various branches of the wide group known as Celtic mythology or Celtic gods. When it comes to Celtic deities, the most famous are those of the British Isles, due to being much more preserved (though heavily Christianized) - the gods of Ireland and the Welsh gods are typically the gods every know about when talking about Celtic deities. But there were Celts on the mainland, continental Celts - and Gaul was one of the most important group of continental Celts. So were their gods.

Then... why does nobody know anything about them?

This is what this introduction is about: how hard it actually is to reconstruct the religion of Gaul and understand its gods. Heck we can't ACTUALLY speak of a Gaulish mythology because... we have no myth! We have not preserved any full myth or complete legend from Ancient Gaul. The pantheon of Gaul is the Celtic pantheon we probably know the least about...

Why? A few reasons.

Reason number one, and the most important: We have no record of what the Gauls believed. Or almost none. Because the people of Gaul did not write their religion.

This is the biggest obstacle in the research for the gods of Gaul. It was known that the art of writing was, in the society of Gaul, an elite art that was not for the common folks and used only for very important occasions. The druids were the ones who knew how to read and write, and they kept this prerogative - it was something the upper-class (nobility, rulers) could know, but not always. Writing was considered something powerful, sacred and magical not to be used recklessly or carelessly. As a result, the culture of Gaul was a heavily oral one, and their religion and myths were preserved in an oral fashion. Resulting in a great lack of written sources comng directly from the Gallic tribes... We do have written and engraved fragments, but they are pieces of a puzzle we need to reconstruct. We have votive offerings with prayers and demands inscribed on it - and while they can give us the names of some deities, they don't explain much about them. We have sculptures and visual representations of the deities on pillars and cups and jewels and cauldrons - but they are just visuals and symbols without names. We have calendars - but again, these are just fragments. We have names and images, and we need to make sense out of it all.

To try to find the explanations behind these fragments, comparisons to other Celtic religions and mythologies are of course needed - since they are all branches of a same tree. The same way Germanic mythology can be understood by looking at the Norse one, the same way Etruscan, Greek and Roman mythologies answer each other, the mythology and religion of Gaul has echoes with the Celtic deities of the Isles (though staying quite different from each other). The other comparison needed to put things back into context is reason number 2...

Reason number two: The Romans were there.

Everybody knows that the death of Ancient Gaul was the Roman Empire. Every French student learns the date of Alesia, the battle that symbolized the Roman victory over the Gallic forces. Gaul was conquered by the Romans and became one of the most famous and important provinces of the Roman Empire: it was the Gallo-Roman era.

The Romans were FASCINATED by Gaul. Really. They couldn't stop writing about them, in either admiration or hate. As a result, since we lack direct Gallic sources, most of what we know about Ancient Gaul comes from the Romans. And you can guess why it is a problem. Some records of their religion were written in hatred - after all, they were the barbarian ennemies that Romans were fighting against and needed to dominate. As such, they contain several elements that can be put in doubt (notably numerous references to brutal and violent human sacrifices - real depictions of blood-cults, or exaggeratons and inventions to depict the gods of Gaul as demonic monstrosities?) But even the positive and admirative, or neutral, records are biased because Romans kept comparing the religion of the Gauls to their own, and using the names of Roman deities to designate the gods of Gaul...

Leading to the other big problem when studying the gods of Gaul: the Roman syncretism. The Gallo-Roman era saw a boom in the depictions and representations of the Gallic gods... But in their syncretized form, fused with and assimilated to the Roman gods. As such we have lots of representations and descriptions of the "Jupiter of Gaul", of the "Mercury of Gaul", of the "Gallic Mars" or "Gallic Minerva". But it is extremely hard to identify what was imported Roman elements, what was a pure Gallic element under a Roman name, and what was born of the fusion of Gallic and Roman traditions...

Finally, reason number three: Gaul itself had a very complicated approach to its own gods.

We know there are "pan-gallic" gods, as in gods that were respected and honored by ALL the people of Gaul, forming the cohesion of the nation. But... Gaul wasn't actually a nation. It was very much like the many city-states of Greece: Ancient Gaul was unified by common traditions, a common society, a common religion and a common language... But Gaul was a tribal area divided into tribes, clans and villages, each with their own variations on the laws, each with their own customs and each with their own spin on religion. As a result, while there are a handful of "great gods" common to all the communities of Gaul, there are hundreds and hundreds of local gods that only existed in a specific area or around a specific town ; and given there were also many local twists and spins on the "great gods", it becomes extremely hard to know which divine name is a local deity, a great-common god, a local variation on a deity, or just a common nickname shared by different deities... If you find a local god, it can be indeed a local, unique deity ; or it can be an alternate identity of a shared divine archetype ; or it can be a god we know elsewhere but that goes by a different name here.

To tell you how fragmented Gaul was: Gaul was never a unified nation with one king or ruler. The greatest and largest division you can make identifies three Gauls. Cisalpine Gaul, the Gaul located in Northern Italy, conquered by the Romans in the second century BCE, and thus known as "the Gaul in toga" for being the most Roman of the three. Then there was the "Gaul in breeches" (la Gaule en braies), which borders the Mediterranean sea, spanning between the Alps and the Pyrenean mountains, and which was conquered in the 117 BCE (becoming the province of Narbonne). And finally the "Hairy Gaul", which stayed an independant territory until Cesar conquered it. And the Hairy Gaul itself was divided into three great areas each very different from each other: the Aquitaine Gaul, located south of the Garonne ; the Celtic Gaul located between the Garonne and the Marne (became the Gaul of Lyon after the Roman conquest) ; and finally the Belgian Gaul, located between the Marne and the Rhine. And this all is the largest division you can make, not counting all the smaller clans and tribes in which each area was divided. And all offering just as many local gods or local facets of a god...

And if it wasn't hard enough: given all the sculptures and visuals depictions of the gods of Gaul are very "late" in the context of the history of Gaul... It seems that the gods of Gaul were originally "abstract" or at least not depicted in any concrete form, and that it was only in a late development, shortly before the Roman invasions, that people of Gaul decided to offer engravings and statues to their gods, alternating between humanoid and animal forms.

All of this put together explains why the gods of Gaul are so mysterious today.

[traumaticemphaticfantastic]

I have been concocting a new art style over the course of this year! But don’t worry, this style isn’t replacing my old one, it is actually just a secondary art style for when I feel like I want to try something different or need a different “Vibe” as it were. And today I want to present to you the first two true pieces that I completed with the finalized aesthetic!

The first piece (Left) is called “Mr. Velt-Wide” and it is meant to be a more positive or playful take on the diaspora, as I am a part of the diaspora and I quite enjoy it! The piece depicts a Jewish man wearing all black holding a suitcase with a Magen David on it, he is tipping his hat and winking at the observer, a big smile on his face, as he balances on a globe of the Earth, taking one big step from one continent to another. Behind the man is the Moon and the void of space with a few stars dotted about, and in big stylized text it says “Mr. VELT-WiDE.” The word “Velt” in Yiddish translates to “World” and is derived from the German word “Welt.”

The second piece is titled “Jewish Man 1” and is a simple portrait of a young Jewish man, he has a beard and a darkness surrounding his eyes, his styled to look old-fashioned, with one of those old-style blazer jackets with the leather elbows, I was inspired to give him this particular jacket because I rewatched Fiddler On The Roof and saw Perchik (Who’s my favourite character) wearing one. As for the rest of the outfit, the man wears a simple vintage cap, a white button-up shirt, and his pants and shoes are more stylized, coloured in black and with no separation of the pant leg and shoes. The man stands on an impressionistic, almost abstract snowy background and surrounding his head is a rather messily painted black square, he stares into the camera, a neutral, if not solemn look upon his face.

I’m quite happy with these two pieces, and with the style I have created. I would like to credit the artist Eugene Ivanov on the stock photo website dreamstime.com (Sorry for not adding the link to his page the feature is not working for me right now) and also thank him for his amazing selection of incredible Jewish art, it inspired a lot of this art style for me and his work is just leagues better than anything I could come up with myself.

I hope you like these pieces as much as I do, I’ve actually made a few more in this new style very very recently that I’m just so excited to show off so keep an eye out for that! But anyways, that will be all for today! Be well all of you, good morning, afternoon, evening, or night!

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Donald Trump’s Racist NYC Rally Was Vile. It Was Also Political Suicide

FINAL ACT

The Madison Square Garden rally, operatic in its repulsive bigotry, will almost certainly alienate more voters who might have voted for Trump.

David Rothkopf

Updated Oct. 27 2024 10:57PM EDT / Published Oct. 27 2024 10:49PM EDT 

Opinion

To all those Republicans who shed crocodile tears because their feelings were so hurt that people were calling Donald Trump a fascist: stop.

To all the MAGA defenders who said it was over-the-top to compare Trump’s Madison Square Garden rally to that held by the German-American Bund in an earlier incarnation of Madison Square Garden: shush.

To all those who were falling once again for the bought and paid for narrative that Trump somehow had the momentum going into the final week of campaign 2024: nope.

Even Republicans Angry at Trump Rally Joke About Puerto Rico

‘MAGA ON STEROIDS’

Amethyst Martinez, Matt Young

On Sunday at MSG, Donald Trump engineered what will be seen by political analysts and later by historians as the coup de grâce that killed forever his prospects of being president and may well have set him on a post-election course on which he finally may be held accountable for his actions.

The interminable rally concluded by an interminable, disjointed, incoherent and yet clearly vile speech by the former president, might have been touted by Trump’s son Don Jr., one of the former president’s warm-up acts, as the “king of New York returning to reclaim his crown.” But Trump was never the king of New York. (Sorry, Lara, your father-in-law did not “build” New York. Immigrants did. But we’ll get to that in a minute.)

Trump has always been loathed in New York City, especially in his former home borough of Manhattan where the vote against him was and will be dependably over 80 percent. But if he was hated before, rest assured, he will be more despised after tonight.

That was clear early on when Tony Hinchcliffe, a man invited by Trump to give one of the introductory speeches—who in true MAGA fashion alleged without providing a shred of evidence that he was a comedian—offered a KKK buffet of nauseating slurs. He called Puerto Rico “an island of floating garbage.”

“There’s a lot going on. I don’t know if you know this but there’s literally a floating island of garbage in the middle of the ocean right now. I think it’s called Puerto Rico” pic.twitter.com/IXbXqDijyU— Acyn (@Acyn) October 27, 2024

The “joke” was as stupid as it was repulsive because there are almost 600,000 Puerto Ricans in New York City and many more spread across regions of vtial importance in the upcoming election. It also happened to come on a day when Vice President Kamala Harris announced her detailed and thoughtful plan for Puerto Rico, an island Trump wanted to trade to Denmark in exchange for Greenland.

But this loser did not stop there. He offered unfunny commentary about his view that Latinos “love making babies” and a reference to how his Black friends liked carving watermelons.

You might think that a few super-racist comments from one speaker might not warrant comments that compared the Trump rally to the Nazi meeting 85 years ago. But his comments were hardly the worst. And the racism and the hate and incitement to violence and the promise of an increasingly authoritarian state continued from the very beginning of the event to the very end.

One speaker said that Harris was managed by “pimp handlers” and said of Democrats that “we need to slaughter these other people.” Disgraced and destitute former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani said, as did several others, that Democrats were behind attempts to kill Donald Trump. Another speaker called Harris “the devil” and “the antichrist.”

Former Trump aide Stephen Miller as is his habit went directly for the Nazi playbook saying, “America is for Americans and Americans only.” Tucker Carlson came out to offer more racist slurs about Harris. Hulk Hogan ripped his shirt off while declaring he saw no Nazis in the audience (thus proving that steroids abuse can not only shrivel up your junk but that it’s not really good for your eyesight either).

Elon Musk was there acting strangely and promising to slash the size of the government (except presumably the parts that are subsidizing his businesses).

Trump attacked the media, and egged the crowd on to boo journalists in the crowd. He said migrants had taken over Times Square (which Is 9 blocks uptown from where the rally was held). He called the US an occupied country which, while bad, may be better than his reference to it as a garbage can the other day. He called Harris a “low IQ individual.” He offered so many lies that cable networks tuned him out because it was impossible to keep up with fact-checking him. He returned to old themes like the bizarre notion that Harris would reinstate the draft and start World War III.

Most importantly from the perspective of confirming his fascism he reiterated at length his assertion that his opponents were “enemies of the people.” (You know the ones against whom he promised to unleash the US military.) He called them “the most sinister and corrupt forces on earth.”

In other words the entire event despite its marathon length and hodgepodge of z-list speakers, delivered over and over again a very focused message. The Trump campaign is about retribution and revenge. It is about the white supremacist desire to purge America of all their neighbors of different colors and beliefs. It is about Trump’s desire to seek out his enemies and punish them. And over the course of its Wagnerian length (and resonances) it single out group after group that would be deported or punished.

But worse still, unlike the Bund rally, Trump’s was not a fringe affair. It was led by a former president of the United States on behalf of very nearly half of the American people.

Its threats of authoritarianism were supported by efforts during the first Trump presidency to sidestep the rule of law and by crimes including a coup attempt we all saw with our own eyes. Its future plans for concentration camps in the US and for mass deportations and the use of the military against the American people have been carefully developed, and there is a plan to put them in place.

That is why Trump’s Sunday rally at Madison Square Garden was, as it turned out, far more ominous than its predecessor. It should chill Americans to the bone. But, I expect it will do more than that. I believe it will mobilize more voters to take action on Nov. 5 to stop the 21st-century fascism of Trump and MAGA.

Trump may be thinking the rally will help him mobilize thugs to violence when he contests his loss and we should be wary of that. But he has provided on the eve of the election the best case why he must be defeated that has ever been presented. In the end, because what unfolded was so foul and so offensive and threatening to so many of us, I believe that is why we will someday conclude that for all intents and purposes Trump’s final political act occurred on the biggest stage in America’s biggest city, a couple of blocks from Broadway.

David Rothkopf

djrothkopf

Got a tip? Send it to The Daily Beast here.

[dragoneyes618]

The expression "like lambs to the slaughter" is taken from a verse in Psalms (44:23; see also Isaiah 53:7) in which the psalmist describes Jews dying for God's sake, and beseeches God not to hide His face from the Jews' affliction. These very words had been cited years earlier, when poet Abba Kovner called on his fellow Vilna Jews to revolt: "We will not be led like sheep to the slaughter....Brothers! It is better to die fighting like free men than to live at the mercy of the murderers. Arise! Arise [and fight] with your last breath!" (January 1, 1942).

While a significant number of Jews did rebel, there are several reasons why the overwhelming majority did not. The most important reason is that almost no Jews had weapons, and arms and legs are of little utility against machine guns and an organized army. (Indeed, while most American Jews support gun-control laws, the few Jews I know who oppose them invariably argue that had European Jewry been armed, many more Jews might have survived.) Few people realize that because of their lack of arms, almost none of the several million prisoners taken by the Germans fought back, including several million Russian soldiers, a large percentage of whom died in Nazi camps.

There was also a moral reason for the relatively low number of revolts: The Jews knew that other Jews would be the ultimate victims of any act of rebellion, even a successful one: The Germans would murder them in retaliation. A prominent Jewish philosopher has articulated the moral dilemma that would-be resisters confronted:

"Was it morally right to kill an SS officer if, as a consequence, hundreds and even thousands of men, women, and children would perish immediately?" - Eliezer Berkovitz (1910-1993), Faith After the Holocaust, page 30

In one notable case, Jewish fighters attacked a German police detachment in the old Jewish quarter of Amsterdam; the German response was terrible:

"Four hundred and thirty Jews were arrested in reprisal and they were literally tortured to death, first in Buchenwald and then in the Austrian camp of Mauthausen. For months on end they died a thousand deaths, and every single one of them would have envied his brethren in Auschwitz, and even in Riga and Minsk. There exist many things considerably worse than death, and the SS saw to it that none of them was ever very far from their victims' minds and imagination."

- K Shabbetai, As Sheep to the Slaughter? The Myth of Cowardice. The survivors' sensitivity to charges of cowardice is underscored by the fact that Shabbetai's book was published by the World Federation of Bergen-Belsen Survivors' Association.

Yet many instances of Jewish resistance did still occur, the most famous in the Warsaw Ghetto:

"The dream of my life has become true. Jewish self-defense in the Warsaw Ghetto has become a fact. Jewish armed resistance and retaliation have become a reality. I have been witness to the magnificent heroic struggle of the Jewish fighters."

- Mordechai Anielewicz, April 23, 1943, four days after the outbreak of the Warsaw Ghetto revolt, in a note to Yitzchak Zuckerman, a unit commander in the revolt

Only twenty-four years old when he helped organize the Warsaw Ghetto revolt, Anielewicz realized that the Germans intended to deport and murder every remaining Jew in Warsaw. The revilt was triggered by word that yet another Nazi deportation was imminent.

The Warsaw Ghetto fighters held out for about a month, longer than the Polish army withstood the 1939 Nazi invasion.

Yitzchak Zuckerman, the heroic unit commander to whom Anielewicz addressed the above note, was among the few Warsaw Ghetto fighters who survived the war. Some forty years later, he was interviewed by Claude Lanzmann for the movie Shoah:

"I began drinking after the war. It was very difficult....You asked my impression. If you could lick my heart, it would poison you."

Despite the Warsaw Ghetto revolt and other acts of resistance, during the 1961 Eichmann trial it became fashionable among some Jews and non-Jews alike to express shock and a certain contempt for those Jews who "failed to resist." Elie Wiesel responded:

"The Talmud teaches man never to judge his friend until he has been in his place. But, for the world, the Jews are not friends. They have never been. Because they had no friends they are dead. So learn to be silent."

- Elie Wiesel, "A Plea for the Dead"

- Jewish Wisdom, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, pages 532-535

[cliozaur]

To distract myself from the horrors of reality, I've been diving into Javert/Valjean fanfics. Some are lovely, some captivating, and some just silly but amusing. I've even found several favourite authors. While I'm fully aware that these interpretations of Javert and Valjean bear little resemblance to Hugo’s characters, they provide entertainment, feature some recognizable traits, and are often well-written. However, as a historian, I can't help but cringe at the anachronisms and messy everyday details that crop up.

I can overlook most of these issues, given the specific nature of fanfics. However, one recurring detail that baffles me is the frequent mention of TEA in almost every Valvert fanfic set in the canon era. I can take it that they eat porridge and eggs with bacon for breakfast – let it be, at least it doesn’t happen that often. But TEA?! In France? In the 1830s? At home? To indulge in tea drinking during this period, one would have to be either a crazy Anglophile or Sinophile. And one had to be rich to afford it. While it's true that the French did drink tea (Napoleon himself was a fan), it was largely limited to aristocrats or wealthy bourgeois. Valjean might qualify as the latter, but he wouldn't likely splurge on such a fancy beverage for himself. And let's not forget that tea required expensive porcelain tea sets.

Furthermore, tea was typically enjoyed outside the home in fashionable salons de thé, rather than being a household beverage like it was in Britain. So, if you're writing Valjean/Javert (or any Les Mis) fanfic, please reconsider having them drink tea. Water and/or wine would be a much more plausible choice. Or at least explain why they drink tea. Even coffee wouldn't be ideal, as it wasn't yet a common household beverage at that time. It was the Germans who first adopted the tradition of making coffee at home, as it was initially considered unsuitable for women.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

Fit for a King - WIP - "You are tiny"

Fit for a King - Masterlist

König fanfiction scenes and chapters that do not yet have a coherent plot

planned content/TW: rivals to lovers, König x fem!character (not too descriptive to make it accessible for more readers), social anxiety killing machine König, badass friendly FMC, dual POV, secret relationship, switch energy, NSFW, adult themes, strong language, violence (more details are still unclear, gonna update as I go), authentic austrian german

a/n: well, my brain isn't letting go of this newest obsession of mine, so I will appease it and write some scenes/chapters that come to mind. i have written more original work and less fanfictions and our boy (and KorTac) is hard to research, but I'll try my best to stay some-what cannon to the lore. it'll also probably get darker down the road.

if your character doesn't have a tragic backstory, why not give him one?

A not so meetcute

(CW: some mature language)

I strut along the hallway, I'm already late to report for duty and turn the corner abruptly. I collide with somebody else at full walking force and almost get pushed to the floor, if the big figure blocking the light shining from above wouldn't have caught me. "Ouch.", I yelp, more surprised than hurt, even though I feel like ran over by a truck.

I steady myself to look at the "truck". I look up and I keep looking up and up. At first there's just this chest, a huge chest, in a simple compression shirt, but oh boy. The weapon holster is what I see next, sitting snug at the side of his torso. Shoulders, big broad shoulders, and normally you would expect to have a head sitting on top of them and a face looking back at you. I guess, he has one as well, even though I don't see one bit of it. I strain my neck to finally meet his eyes.

But all I see is the dark black of a… sniperhood? A T-shirt? I mean, it looks like a t-shirt, that somebody cut holes in to fashion themselves a kind of mask. The front is stained with bleach, two streaks coming down from the eyeholes... My eyes widen as it sinks in who this is. König. KorTac operator, field combatant and one of my superiors. Shit. I've heard some rumors about him. And it seems like at least some of them ring true.

"You are tiny.", he states matter-of-factly, his Austrian accents shining through the uttered words. It's the first thing he says to me. "And you are... not.", I retort. I can't make out his expression as it so obviously is hidden by his mask. He nods, turns around and heads down the hallway where he came from. I shake my head. What the hell was that?

I stretch myself, feeling the impact of the collision already. My god, that was like being hit by a battering ram. I heard that his specialty is breaking down doors with brute force. I thought this to be ridiculous, but now as I watch the gigantic muscled man strut down the hallway, quickly disappearing, I do believe it. 6'10" killing machine. Ridiculous.

I shake my head again and make my way to the meeting room. Ridgeback is already waiting for me.

______________________________________________________________

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Verdammt. Ah, des hast du ganz super g'macht.* I tell myself sarcastically in my head as I basically run down the hallway. She must be one of the new hires. Must be. And you almost turned her to mush. Mus. Brei. Human remains splattered against the wall. I curse myself again. I didn't even apologize. "You are tiny." No shit, Sherlock, everybody is tiny compared to you. I continue to mock myself. Fuck, Shit, Fuck.

"Ridge, since when do we hire children?", I ask him as soon as I enter the room. He doesn't even look up. "We don't." He keeps reading. "Then why did I just almost run over a recruit that didn't even reach my waist?" – “Because compared to you, everybody seems tiny.” He sighs and looks up at me. “None of our personnel are under 6’, not even the women.”

“Even the new recruits?”, I ask him again. He furrows his brow. “What did you do, König?”, he wants to now. “I may or may not have almost trampled one of them.”, I say, kleinlaut***. He sighs again. “I think that was Müller, she’s actually on her way here.”, Ridgeback says. “Müller? Is she german?”, I ask in surprise. I didn’t hear such an accent on her, but to be fair, she only said like three words… and I wasn’t really paying attention to her words anyway.

On cue, the door opens and I fall silent. “Permission to enter, Sir?”, she says with a clear voice. Not at all seeming like I almost turned her into pulp. I take two steps back to stand in the back, trying to blend into the wall behind me – which I already know from experience is not going to work. “Come in.”, Ridge says. “Müller, right?” She nods and approaches. My focus is fully on her, all the small bits I noticed about her before are still there. She’s not wearing a mask because it’s not necessary off mission. You know, like you normally would. She has laugh lines. Around her eyes and mouth. Fucking laugh lines. She doesn’t look like she belongs here.

The two of them are talking, but I catch every single time when her gaze lands on me, even if it’s just from the corner of her eyes. I fight against the urge to turn away every time she looks at me, when I hear Ridgeback drop the old s-word. Sniper.

My ears perk up and I finally pay attention to what they’re saying again. “Your track record is almost immaculate, Müller. You’re gonna be an asset to the team on the next missions.”, he says to her. I can see that she tries to hold back a proud expression or smile on her face, but she doesn't really succeed at that. God damn it, a sniper. I groan and make my way to the door which doesn’t go unnoticed. “König.”, Ridgeback pipes up. “You wanna show Müller the way to the dorms?” as I already have my hand on the doorknob.

I still for just a moment and the roaring sensation of anxiety seeps at my feet and crawls up my body until it’s nested at the back of my head. I can’t talk to her. Not after embarrassing myself before. “Nein.”, is all I say before I’m out the door.

*God damnit. You did a really bang up job. ** two different words for pulp/mash *** meekly (word for word: 'smallloud')

[marimayscarlett]

Americans are going thru it today, is there any way you could bless us with sweet facts about Rammstein and Richard? Thanks for your help, I know I absolutely live for your detailed posts, they're my favorite ❤️❤️

Hi 👋

First of all, my heart goes out to all American citizens who hoped, voted and fought for a different outcome. We live in very surreal and scary times and I just wish you all lots of strength and calmness for your minds 🍀🤍

Now on to some other, hopefully uplifting/interesting enough things to get your mind of things - maybe not all sweet ones, since I grabbed them from the top of my head so to speak and searched for the sources afterward, yet I hope they provide a little bit of distraction:

tiny little fact I love: Richard is actually a proper country boy. Eventhough he was born in the city of Wittenberge, he lived up until he was 7 in the german countryside in the little village of Weisen, which according to Google has 997 inhabitants. "That was a beautiful childhood with alot of nature, cats and dogs and a big family with two siblings."

as the most memorable (or miserable) jobs he ever worked in, Richard listed the following: window cleaner (since he suffers from vertigo), making shoes and selling them, going through an apprentinceship for becoming a cook and cleaning for an old lady who had stuffed poodles in her apartment.

if he could timetravel, Richard would choose to visit the period of the Knights Templar, 11th century, since he feels rather drawn to this history era.

a little fact about Richard and the gifts he gets from fans to his door step I think about regularly with mixed feelings: "I myself got a rose on my doorstep every day for years. Sure, it's nice - you always have roses at home, but there are so many unpleasant feelings involved. For a while, someone always left cigarettes in my mailbox. My brother always had to smoke the first one!"

Richard took singing lessons with a coach who also worked with Mick Jagger. Said coach scolded Richard a lot due to him smoking right before class - in one interview Richard mentioned he was so intimidated by that coach that he was ready to call his parents to pick him up. But he went through with it and worked a lot on his voice, which became quite beneficial for his singing.

Apparently, the idea of the infamous Flake-stew during "Mein Teil" came from Richard, who then actually was less than enthusiastic for his own idea: "I had the idea of Flake being cooked in the pot, then I realized, the first time we actually did it onstage, that it was too convenient, just stupid or not even funny, whatever. So I said, ‘I hate it’. But by that time, the rest of them had done it and loved it…"

The band actually considered various names before they settled for 'Rammstein': Tempelprayers, Mutter (mother), Milch (milk), Erde (earth).

A well known fact or rather, legend, but I think about it a lot: Richard recorded the whistling for 'Engel' it true chaotic composer fashion, namely while he was taking a bath and was struck by creativity. The band apparently didn't manage to record a better version, so his version was used for the song.

some song recommendations by Richard - these were his favourites back in 2009: 'Hurt' by Nine Inch Nails, 'Baby I'm gonna leave you' by Led Zeppelin, 'Sin City' by AC/DC and 'Personal Jesus' by Depeche Mode 🎶

I hope this helped at least a tiny bit! Sending you all the good and cosy vibes you might need 🤲🏼

Have some cuddly R+ guys for emotional support:

Sources: Rockhard magazine wir.sehen.euch rammwiki Emigrate Kerrang rammwiki Rammstein

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

The new trilogy means we finally got official French translations of the fifth and sixth games (the fourth already had one) so I did my thing and played through them, since they're always a lot of fun. Here are some things about French Dual Destinies I thought you might like to know:

Yes, it's set in France as per usual. They are all French people who live in Paris. And yes, that means that in this universe there is a Japanese village themed around yokai within throwing distance of Paris.

Athena lived in America in this version, and therefore peppers her speech with English and Spanish. My favourite unhinged franglais line was "let's get au travail" which I will be using from now on because it's hilarious

Many characters got French pun names again. Simon's name is "Jack Lamenoire" -- Jack, because the French version of Simon Says uses the name Jack/Jacques, and "lame noire" means "black blade". (Also he's not British or anything in this version, he just speaks in somewhat old-timey French.)

He has multiple nicknames for the judge that are all slight variations of "Your Baldness". He doesn't do that "-dono" suffix thing but he does refer to Phoenix in particular as "Maître Wright".

...I don't like pointing out things I didn't like buuuuuut his voice is a huge downgrade. Actually, to be honest, I don't like the new French voices that much in general... idk man they just don't sound very enthusiastic...

Filch's name is "Arsène Loupet", reference to the famous fictional thief Arsène Lupin, which I thought was pretty cool! (Herlock Sholmes was also a reference to that series too btw!)

Athena and Apollo use informal pronouns for each other pretty much from the get-go, but there have been some changes from the previous games: Phoenix now uses the informal "tu" for Apollo (and Athena) whereas in the prev game he didn't, Pearl now uses "tu" for Phoenix as well, and Klavier uses "tu" for Apollo now (but Apollo still calls him the formal "vous" lmao)

SPEAKING OF... SPEAKING OF. The French localisation continues to utterly baffle me when it comes to Klavier (or Konrad as he's called in French). No listen, liSTEN. In the previous game he was specifically stated to be English and did his law exams in England and dropped English words into his speech (and this is still the case in the trilogy version, I checked). But now?? They seem to have gone back on it and in this game he says he's German again, like the in English translation??? But he's still dropping English words into his speech randomly????? Look I already went through the five stages of grief when I found out they'd english-ified him, I made my peace with it, and NOW they change it???????

God and his new French voice sucks too (his old one was actually good)... what have they done to you my poor boy, was making you English not bad enough T_T Oh and he and Athena didn't even get their little language club moment where they both start speaking in the same foreign language?? Like, that just straight-up didn't happen here and I had been waiting for it aauuugh it's cool it's fine it's cool i'm okay i'm--

True to Dual Destinies fashion, there are still typos. In an emotional moment, Apollo took a leave of asbence from the office. Not absence. Asbence.

I can't put my finger on it but Robin's coming out scene felt more... respectful in French? The English translation was done over a decade ago so it feels somewhat dated, maybe that's why... I obviously don't know if she was purposely written to be a trans girl but she very much comes across that way, and it feels like the French translators were aware of that interpretation and took it into account, idk maybe it's just me

THEY GOT RID OF MY FAVOURITE LINE. THE FORESHADOWEY ONE WHERE SIMON TELLS ATHENA THAT THE PERSON SHE WANTS TO SAVE MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD DOESN'T DESIRE HER DEFENCE, AND HE'S CLEARLY TALKING ABOUT HIMSELF. THE FRENCH MADE HIM SAY SOMETHING ELSE WAY LESS COOL. I don't wanna be like "FRENCH TURNABOUT ACADEMY IS DEAD TO ME" because most of it was awesome, but man these occasional things made me wanna flip tables

Cosmic Turnabout and Turnabout for Tomorrow were great in French though, so there's that. Clay's French name is "Pierre" which worked surprisingly well because it means stone or rock, and the moon rock was also called that, so like, the phantom had to kill Pierre in order to get the pierre... idk it worked and it was cool

Simon and Athena switch to using informal pronouns for each other very near the end of the game, in the scene where they work together to psychologically mess with the phantom. It's around the time when they start openly calling each other by first name since everyone knows now that they're old friends.

Phoenix and Edgeworth also occasionally refer to each other by first name in this game, which threw me off completely. (Reminder that Edgeworth's French name is "Benjamin Hunter". Just picture Phoenix standing in front of Edgeworth and calling him BENJAMIN. Now you understand how absolutely bizarre it felt.)

Here's the entirety of The Dissin' of Phoenix Wright in French

[birdiebirdjay]

Snape wasn’t a terrible kid but ended up on the wrong side due to terrible circumstances and seeking protection in the wrong places. The Marauders were bad kids who ended up on the good side due to more fortunate circumstances. For Snape, it’s a story of how poverty and abuse leads to radicalisation. For the Marauders, it’s a story of how the world isn’t split up into bad people and Order members. Take WWII - the Allies were unquestionably the correct anti-fascist side, fighting an evil foe. Didn’t stop them committing mass rape of German women as they headed for victory. A great number of those soldiers on the right side were very bad people. Sirius literally spells it out for us in Prisoner of Azkaban when he tells us that Peter’s motive for following Voldemort was to hide behind the biggest bully on the playground just as he had done at school.

People refuse to accept this for a number of reasons:

1. The story is from Harry’s perspective, and James and Sirius love Harry enormously. Many readers don’t get out of this protagonist-centred mindset, and therefore for them characters loving Harry = wholly good people.

2. JKR writes the Potter books as detective fiction, and James being a monstrous bully and Severus’ true loyalties are two of the great twists. But a lot of readers struggle to entirely shake off the first impressions we are led to believe about these characters until the twists prove us wrong.

3. Good old fashioned classism and lookism. They can’t accept that the low class, ugly, weird, greasy, temperamental, bitter, unpleasant fellow is the bravest man Harry ever knew, while the villains of his origin story are the high class, wealthy, popular, attractive kids, because it would force them to examine the ingrained prejudices they swear they don’t have.

i don't have much to add to this (you wrote it perfectly), but you're so right anon </3 so many people really miss the whole "the world isn't divided into good people and death eaters" thing in the fandom :/

[alshixxah]

Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship)

On a hot summer night in Greece, Lewis contemplates her "best friend" eating sorbet.

Notes: 2.1k, girlcedes, not beta-read, english is not my first language, title and references from a Studio Killers song of the same name, first time writing fanfiction, slightly suggestive at times, in true teenage girl fashion Lewis is going through it, there are too little fics where Lewis is just plainly weird about Nico

This is @sionisjaune's girlcedes anon from like 2 weeks ago. Girlcedes and girl!Nico especially have been haunted my brain an unhealthy amount and spilled out into this foul beast. I swear this was supposed to be a drabble idk how we got to 2k. Once again shoutout to @sionisjaune, I wish (not really) i was joking when i said that their girl!Nico fics have quite literally fundamentally changed the way i see my own femininity and relationship to the concept of womanhood.

It was uncommon for Lewis to ignore a cone of soft serve in front of her, it really was. The view before her, Nico licking so methodically at the strawberry sorbet perched gracelessly on the cone in her hand as if it was a corner she was analysing, had her letting the sticky liquid melt from her own cone gently down her hand. 

In truth, she hated calling her “friend”, but she had no other word for what was between them. A bond so strong, forged over the many years they perfected the art of knowing each other, first as strangers, then friends, then karting teammates, and now vacationeers together in Greece. A bond seemingly so unbreakable that they swore it would survive any rivalries that came from competition, but so stupidly fragile when Lewis thought of words to describe it other than “friends”. 

Nico glanced at her, and wordlessly placed one of the paper napkins from her lap onto hers while gently grabbing Lewis’ ice cream cone. Lewis only took her eyes off of mindlessly rubbing at her hands when Nico spoke. “It's a shame. Cream colours look good on you”. “Better like this. My hands are all sticky”

The air was hot, even at night. She could still smell the night market, two streets down from the sea promenade where they were sitting on the rocks. The heavy spices and oil from their street food dinner had made the air in the market sticky as well, and whether by the wind or them channelling it to come with, the air around them now was sticky too. Lewis knew the napkins were ultimately futile to erase the feeling. While she had spoken, another droplet had escaped Lewis’ cone, and Nico gently tilted her head to lick at it with the tip of her tongue, so as to not get it on her nail. The polish perfectly matched the colour of her sorbet. Lewis wondered if it would taste like it too if placed in her mouth.

The only way to stop this stickiness might be to drown herself in the sea across from them. Lewis didn't know if she wanted to. 

She carelessly stuffed the napkin into the back pocket of her jean shorts and took back her cone without making eye contact. 

“I should paint your nails cream when we get back. We could match. I'm getting tired of this colour” Nico scrunched up her face as she scratched her left thumb across her ring finger. She had only painted her nails two days ago, sat on the sunny balcony floor of their shared room, hunched over and looked like the most beautiful girl on earth Lewis had ever seen. 

“I like it. It suits you, and it matches your ice cream”

“Sorbet”

“It matches your Sorbet”

Nico frowned. “No, you're saying it wrong. Sorr-be”

“That's exactly what I’m saying”

“No you're saying sour-bee. Put your tongue more forward in your mouth like-” Her face froze as she tried to think of a proper comparison. Lewis had never possessed the ease Nico seemingly had when it came to picking up languages. Her tongue stubbornly stuck to only moulding itself around the gentle sloping and stopping of the English accent she was born into. Around the proper way, how she would tease Nico about her German lilt. 

Suddenly Nico snapped out of her trance, and looked at Lewis with that look that told her whatever came next was not a suggestion but a demand. “Open your mouth”

Lewis obeyed without thinking. 

Carefully, like she could shatter Lewis like glass, she stuck her index and middle finger in her mouth and up to her gum, pushing at the space right behind Lewis ́ front teeth.

To any passerby, it must have looked like she was giving her some sort of dental examination. She was so helplessly but willingly at her mercy with two fingers down her mouth. Who would willingly subject themselves to this, she thought, if not for the nauseating agony that toothaches born of avoidance give you? Nobody would so obediently open their mouth, and keep it open, if sweetness would not melt into cavities.

Lewis could only watch as her friend slowly removed her fingers from the mouth she desperately willed to behave from spilling everything sticky she tried to wipe away. In doing so, Nicos nails grazed her tongue. She tasted the sweet flavour of strawberry.

“Put your tongue there. Say it.”

Nicos looked like a spilled bottle of perfume, so intense and penetrating was her look. All Lewis could do was hold it with wide eyes.

“Sorr-be.”

“Good”

“I think I´d like to taste yours, actually” Lewis reached over to take her cone from her and she immediately retorted by taking hers. She had no desire to taste the strawberry in particular, but if she didn't keep her mouth busy it might start telling Nico all its acronyms for their “friendship”. There was a dent in the sorbet where Nico had last licked at it, no bigger than her thumbpad. 

When they found the small ice cream vendor at the end of the market, she had initially hoped to get coconut flavour. They had ventured into the building just on the last street corner from the bustling food stalls like they owned the place, and just for a second Lewis stood back to watch Nico gawk at the spread of flavours before them with such unashamed desire that she so fiercely guarded in public. Desire that was sadly not focused on Lewis.

Stepping into Nicos personal space was always a full sensory experience. For her at least. It occurred to her that when her father only looked at her confused when she once mentioned she could often smell Nico before she entered the room that maybe other people just were not as fixated on everything Nico. God, she needed to get more normal.

Nico matched all of her hygiene products, her body wash, her lotion, her shampoo, down to deodorant and perfume to a scent, and that one scent completely enveloped her entire being.

Well, two scents actually, roses for special occasions, like the celebratory dinner after their last 1-2 finish, and coconut at all other times.

Whenever she knew they would share a room, she made sure to conveniently forget her body wash, or lotion, only to shamefully buy a cheap one in a corner store a few days later to eventually chuck it in the trash when she got home from that particular trip.

The first time showering with Nicos stuff was always like the first time again. Nico would consume her in shockwaves, penetrate her senses and skin in a way that made her almost feel dirtier than before stepping in the shower, and leave her staring at her murky silhouette in the foggy mirror to get a grip and not pounce her “friend” the second she stepped out of their shared bathroom.

It made her nauseous the fourth or fifth time, always. She could not handle it, being so filled and surrounded by something she then had to pretend was her friend, but she could never resist lathering her skin just a couple seconds extra with hands that smelled like Nico. She would buy the other body wash then.

Nico never commented on how often she would forget hers in the first place, or when she would buy the second, or when Lewis never gave her back the shirts she would steal from her.

When she was back in Stevenage, she used them as her pillowcase, just the white back without a print to keep it her secret, so Anthony would think his daughter was normal, and bury her face into them and scream.

She needed to microdose this way, she would lash out and convulse and bloom like a werewolf into something hideous if she indulged on her “best friend” in the way she wanted to.

Maybe that is why she always borrowed her lip gloss only after Nico used it first, or why she wanted coconut ice cream. She could not have the real thing, but something sticky and wet on her lips that she knew was to some degree her “best friends” saliva was all she could allow herself.

She looked at the indent on Nicos sorbet in her hands that glistened in the moonlight. She flattened her tongue against it while closing her eyes. Just a little indulgence. When she looked up again Nico was staring at her, soft serve untouched.

“I'd let you paint my nails. But keep yours. I like them. Plus you painted them like yesterday.”

“No. I want us to match.”

Lewis popped the last of the sorbets cone in her mouth and took Nicos free hand in hers. She closely examined her still pristine nails.

“And that wouldn’t look good on me or what?”

  She gently caressed the nail bed of her elegant pointer finger. Nico, suddenly, as if she remembered she was alive, or as if Lewis had rubbed the death out of her, she grabbed Lewis’ wrist. 

The motion was so sudden it almost scared Lewis if it wasn’t her “friend”. Her hand slowly travelled up her arm and she began to slowly whisper. “No.”

Her hand brushed past the strap of her top as Lewis’ hand came to join hers, “No”.

It tangled itself firmly on the back of Lewis’ neck and Nico pulled her down, down, down, until her forehead was pressed to the sticky expanse of Nicos sweaty naked shoulder and she closed her eyes. "No."

This close she could almost pretend she crawled inside Nicos skin, deep underneath the surface like she was her lungs, or brain, or heart if she wanted to be vulgar. Something precious that would kill Nico to get rid of.

All her senses were assaulted by coconut, but this was the first time that under it she smelled the faint mechanical, almost animalistic floral scent buried deep beneath it. It reminded Lewis of speed walking past the alleyway on her way back from school where everyone knew the cokeheads gathered after 3 p.m. and it made Nico seem just as dangerous.

“Talk to me Lewis”, her best friend for years said above her.

“You terrify me. Paint me every colour you want. Please.”

Nico pulled her up by the scuff of her neck, even when her hands went just shy of jerking upwards and grabbing her hair. There was no place to hide from the other now, nowhere to put yourself except for your lips to move except against each other with restrained obsession against each other. Neither girl could guess how many kisses the other had, even as they refused to break eye contact over the kiss, blue eyes staring in deeply, deeply unsure brown ones.

The string of spit that emerged when they finally broke fell into both their laps at once, where brown legs had tangled with tan ones. Neither made a move to kiss each other again or touch the other further, they just swayed in each other's orbit, like a snake and a flute, panting each others air that was laced with something as sick as devotion.  

“I'm scared.” Lewis finally admitted. “I was scared. You’re my best friend. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship”

At this Nico finally moved, head cocked to the side, eyes wide not in surprise but laser focus, and pressed her soft chest into Lewis’

“Ruin it.” She gripped Lewis’ upper arms with a bruising grip, her flesh spilling out between her fingers, “Do it.”

She feverishly pecked at Lewis’ cheek, “Destroy it. Wreck it. Break our friendship.”

Her hands finally found the courage to angrily weave into Lewis’ hair and she pressed their faces so close that their noses were touching and speaking became awkward. “I don’t want it anymore. We are more than friends. I will follow you to the end, Lewis.”

Lewis’ hands had raked themselves around her shoulders and waist, more leverage to never, ever, let her go, and she needed to restrain her teeth to not make Nico an even bigger part of her than she already was when she crashed them together to kiss again.

“Take me back to the hotel.” Nico said with crazy eyes and her usual restrained voice. “I will paint your nails and never let you use another body wash.”

And the only things that proved two friends were ever there in the first place were an abandoned cone of sticky, melted vanilla soft serve, and the constellations they had given new names that night.