#mr sin

[streetcattournament]

Round 1 - Bracket 166

[reachingforthevoid]

Doctor Who: The Talons of Weng-Chiang

I rewatched this serial on 15 March 2023, which was first broadcast around this time in 1977. 

We begin in a Victorian music hall where Li H’sen Chang and Mr Sin, apparently a ventriloquist’s doll, come off stage from their act when they’re challenged by a cabbie looking for his wife. Mr Sin kills him. Meanwhile, the Doctor and Leela arrive, both wearing Victorian attire to blend in. They are set upon by a Chinese gang, and get wrapped up in a serial murder investigation. It’s not long before they discover other weird goings-on.

The tone of this serial is akin to the Sherlock Holmes stories, mixed with a bit of Jack the Ripper lore, far future stuff, hypnotism, holograms in the basement, giant animals, and more than a dash of racism. I won’t go into details about that but do be warned if you’ve not seen this one before. It’s aggravating because it didn’t need to be there (no, not “of it’s time”) and if excised then this serial would be one of Doctor Who’s greatest stories. Greel is an interesting character beyond the obvious — and it’s great how Leela sees right through him — and Mr Sin is a wonderful monster. In terms of support characters, Litefoot and Jago are fabulous.

And this six-parter brings us to the end of Doctor Who’s fourteenth season.

[ultramagnys]

taraprowl nation are we taking this as a hint of anything .

[60sgroove]

The theatre has always been my passion, and I hoped to be successful at it one day. But the cinema came along instead, and I ended up here… I'm happy about it, however, because a whole new world has opened up to me – much vaster than the theatre. After all, that's what films are all about, isn't it?

[egooppidum]

Tav (Liv) x Astarion from "The Arrangement" by @fangswbenefits (love you ❤️)

Full version here: X

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

Ebenezer Scrooge: *goes outside*

Every Muppet within a 10 mile radius:

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears A Suit

part Ⅰ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mention of murder. Hot devil's son. Sexual harassment? Michael Langdon.

Summary: Y/N is a purple at Outpost 3 and gets interviewed by Mr. Langdon.

A/N: I will go to hell for this and I am not opposing if he will be there too.

After 18 months at the underground Outpost life was as dreadful as being killed by a bomb explosion. Or worse. A bunch of snobs and shallow cowards. It was clear as day, that it was just a matter of time before everyone was at each other's throats. 

It wasn’t the Outpost itself or the fact that we are the last human beings on this planet that made everything so depressing. It was boredom. A hole in my head. The only bearable person here was Mr. Gallant. Without his company at the dining table, I could have stuck a fork into my neck.

That evening Ms. Venable announced to us about a visitor. The agent of the Cooperative. Even though she remained calm as usual I sensed a note of fear in her voice. So it means this new man has great authority. I was grateful for any kind of entertainment, even if it meant a bloody revolution. After 18 months with the same people, fresh meat is always dainty.

Ms. Venable ended her speech when a tall man with long blond hair entered the room. He had a dark aura. The aura of power.

“My name is Langdon and I represent The Cooperative,” he said, circling our table. “Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

I glanced at the other residents of the Outpost. They all looked tense and nervous, especially Ms. Venable. She seemed almost afraid of him. Only Mr. Gallant seemed as amused as me. We glanced at each other and I immediately understood what was on his mind. After all, he had a good taste in men.

“My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.” His speech was persuasive, words sharp and his blue eyes pierced into all of us. Such an ability to capture everyone's attention was making me delighted.

He stopped at the head of the table and continued. “The three other compounds have been overrun and destroyed.”

“What happened to the people inside?” asked Timothy worried. 

“Massacred,” answered Langdon and I think I caught the shadow of a grin on his face.

I bit my lip to stop myself from chuckling. I had to admit, this Langdon was a very attractive man. And Mr. Gallant was obviously admiring his appearance too. But there was something about The Cooperative representative that made me feel uneasy. It was as if he was hiding something. Something very bad. 

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe… The Sanctuary,” he said, placing his hands behind his back. “I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call ‘Cooperating’. Simply, I will determine if you belong.”

I remained silent, analyzing the situation. Everyone seemed wary and looked at others with distrust. Only Coco didn’t have enough brains to remain silent and tried to openly express her dissatisfaction. Fortunately, her tirade was abruptly suppressed.

“I volunteer to go first.” Mr. Gallant raised his hand. 

“And so you shall,” Langdon said threateningly, looking us over. He had a cold, calculating look in his eyes. I had a feeling that he already knew who he was going to select.

“The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won’t be kept in suspense forever. I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” I felt his gaze on me and barely restrained myself from looking away. 

Langdon left the room and everyone immediately started to argue. A bunch of morons, all of them. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, observing the conversation. Everyone began to share their suspicions and guesses, but of course, they were all too wrapped up in their own fear to notice the whole thing. The Cooperative looked at us as laboratory rats and no one seemed to see that. Pathetic. 

I let out a sigh of annoyance and left the room.

                                                      ✦✦✦

I ran into Malcolm in the hallway an hour later and looked at him questioningly. 

“Oh, darling, I almost had a heart attack." He came closer and started whispering "I'm a bit scared of him. He is definitely hot as hell, but twice as evil."

I chuckled. "Well, that's quite a review. Did he tell you anything new?"  

Mr. Gallant leaned even closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He asked me a lot of personal questions...I mean really personal."  

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

“Like my sexuality for example. And my nana. And other… things. Pretty intimate. I felt so uncomfortable, but I tried to keep it cool.” 

My eyebrows furrowed in interest. So these "Cooperating" sessions were, indeed, quite unique. It seemed like Langdon wanted to know every minuscule detail about each person. I began to wonder what kind of "personal" questions he would ask me. I also began to wonder why I was so looking forward to the moment. 

“I felt like he was trying to rip out my soul.” Added Malcolm in a whisper.

I smirked. "Well, that's quite a dramatic way to describe it." Malcolm chuckled nervously but I had a feeling that he wasn't exaggerating. Langdon was certainly not the type of man that you could fool easily. He could see right through people.

But something was intriguing. I felt a strange thrill at the idea of uncovering the depth of Langdon's scrutiny. 

 "I guess I'll have to brace myself for my turn then," I said nonchalantly.

“Good luck sweetheart.” We kissed each other on the cheek and went in different directions.

I slowly walked to my quarters, lost in thought. I was feeling an inexplicable mixture of excitement and curiosity. The thought of being examined by Langdon, being exposed under the watchful gaze of his sharp eyes, was somehow appealing. God, I have to stop.

I shook my head firmly, trying to dismiss these thoughts. "This is ridiculous," I mumbled to myself softly.

Suddenly I heard something. Something like a scream perhaps. I stopped and looked around. There was no one except me in this dimly lit hall. And then this sound again. More like a whisper now. Millions of whispers. My head began to spin slightly. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Silence. Everything went quiet. I turned around and flinched as I saw Langdon behind me.

“Mrs. Y/S, I’d like to talk with you next.” 

I looked up at Langdon with a surprised expression, silently cursing myself for being so lost in my thoughts to the point of not noticing him coming closer. His presence was so powerful that it still made my heart flutter even now.

"Lead the way," I replied, trying to maintain my composure. 

Langdon didn't bother answering, simply gesturing for me to follow him. I walked behind him through the maze of halls and rooms. 

We finally reached the entrance to what appeared to be his cabinet. Langdon stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. Entering the room, I noticed how dark and ominous it felt. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with old leather-bound volumes. The main source of light was a fireplace.

Langdon gestured for me to sit down on the armchair across from him. I lowered myself gently, straightening my purple dress. 

He studied me, wanted me to be nervous, wanted me to crack. I knew this game. I have played this game with many different powerful men, who think they are Gods because they have dicks. I never lose in a game like this.

His eyes searched my face, trying to find any sign of weakness. But I held his gaze firmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated.

I leaned back in my seat, a small smirk on my lips. "I see you're expecting me to be quivering in my boots," I said with a hint of sarcasm.

Langdon chuckled darkly. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. 

A silence fell between us, and I held his gaze without flinching. Something about his demeanor made my heart beat a little faster, but I was determined not to show it.

“I prefer conversations to be effective, Mr. Langdon.”

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my remark, a smirk forming his lips. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. "Straight to the point, are we?" 

He studied me for a moment, his eyes still locked onto mine.

"Well, I can appreciate a straightforward woman," he said, his voice surprisingly smooth. "It makes the process much more efficient."

He paused for a moment, his gaze never faltering. "Ms. Y/S," he began, my name rolling off his tongue like a sinful whisper. "Allow me to ask you a personal question."

“Ask,” I replied.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes were laser-focused on me, and I could practically feel his gaze trying to pierce through my soul. 

"What do you fear the most?" he asked, his tone almost gentle.

I was caught off guard by the question and made a mistake. Langdon noticed the slight flicker of surprise in my eyes. He chuckled softly. "That's what I thought," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You may have mastered the art of bravado, but everyone has a weakness," he continued. "And I'm here to find yours." 

I watched him back and after crossing my legs answered "I fear being surrounded by idiots for the rest of my life." I needled.

Langdon raised an eyebrow, visibly amused. "Well, you certainly have a way with words, don't you?", he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

He leaned back in his seat, studying me closely. "Being trapped in a group of lesser minds for eternity may be torturous, especially for a woman of your... intelligence."

“For a man of your power, it’s a pity that you use flattery as a term of manipulation,” I said, tilting my head in a mocking manner. 

Langdon chuckled, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Ah, so observant," he said, still maintaining his smirk. 

He leaned slightly forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm not just using flattery, Ms. Y/S. I do recognize your intellect. But don't mistake my compliments for manipulation. I simply use the tools at my disposal."

“Huh.”

Langdon chuckled again, clearly appreciating my dry response. "You have a sharp tongue," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “It may be your unique feature or a pathetic attempt to hide your fear.”

I could feel a flicker of irritation at his words, but I forced myself to remain impassive. Langdon was trying to get a reaction out of me, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction.

"Perhaps it's a little bit of both," I replied, my voice cool and steady. "Or perhaps you're simply not used to people who don't cower easily in front of someone higher in rank."

He stood up from his seat and started circling me slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the room. “Be careful, Ms. Y/S. Your bold attitude is admirable, but at some point, this can play a cruel joke on you.”  His gaze burned into me as he studied me from every possible angle.

“I appreciate the warning,” I said coldly. “I don't fear intimidation tactics.”

“You are a brave woman.” Langdon's voice was suddenly close behind me, his breath lingering on the nape of my neck. A small shiver ran down my spine, and I had to suppress the urge to turn around and look at him.

“A little too brave, some would say.” he continued, his words almost a whisper. “Tell me, Ms. Y/S, is it hard to be the smartest in the room? To be forced to communicate with idiots?”

There was a hint of mockery in his tone that made me nauseous. But I still refused to let him see any sign of weakness. I sat up straighter in my chair, lifting my chin.

“It can be... annoying at times,” I admitted.

“It is irritating how arrogant the upper class is, isn’t it? Especially toward women.” I felt the touch of his fingers on my arm and I barely restrained myself from snatching my hand away. “The world before the bombs wasn’t that much brighter than this one, was it? They all mistreated you, and never took you seriously… Does the idea of them having everything infuriate you?”

His words hit a nerve, the subtle truth in them cutting through my defenses. Yes, the world before the bombings was far from perfect, and I had my fair share of disappointments.

But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had managed to hit a weak spot. I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “And what makes you think you're any different from them?”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing along my skin, tracing patterns against the fabric of my dress. His nonchalant arrogance was both infuriating and strangely enthralling. 

“Oh, I never claimed to be any different," he responded, his voice low and husky. “But I will say this - I appreciate intelligence, especially in women. I can see your potential.”

“Potential,” I repeated, struggling to keep my tone even. “For what, exactly?”

Langdon ignored my question. His hands, now both on my arms, crawled up to my shoulders. “Have you ever thought about punishing them? About finally showing what you are capable of, so they would never think you are only ‘pretty face’ again?” His breath tickled my ear. “Have you ever thought about making them scared of you?”

His hands on my shoulders were deceptively gentle, yet they seemed to burn against my skin through the fabric of my dress. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered his words, making my breath hitch in my throat. 

I felt a strange mixture of anger and... excitement at his words. The thought had crossed my mind more than once if I was being honest with myself. To show them ALL how strong and brilliant I truly was. To shuffle a knife into someone’s throat. I remained silent. 

“I sense this force in you, Y/N.”

His voice seemed to fill the space between us, wrapping around me like a dark, intimate spell. He leaned closer, his chest almost pressed against my back. His hands remained on my shoulders, his fingers gently massaging my tense muscles. 

There was something about his voice, the way he said my name, that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he could see right through me, past the cool exterior I had been trying to maintain. He knew about the anger, the desire, the fire burning within me.

“I can tell you have a dark side,” he murmured, his voice deep and low. 

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Yes, you do.” His hands continue to stroke my shoulders gently. He was amused by my denial.

“You don't have to play coy with me, Ms. Y/N," he said, his voice velvety smooth. “I can feel it radiating off of you. That simmering anger, that burning desire."

Langdon leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against my ear. “You want... power. And I can promise you that.”

His words were a seductive murmur, weaving their way into my mind and planting thoughts of power and revenge. It was as if he knew exactly what buttons to push, what desires to awaken within me. 

"Power," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind was swimming, both alarmed and intrigued by his proposal. I felt like I was hypnotized. "Why… What’s the point?"

Langdon chuckled softly, noticing the effect his words were having on me. He stepped away from me, his hands finally leaving my shoulders. He walked around the chair, standing in front of me again.

"Because, my dear," he began, "I've observed your potential. Your intelligence, your resourcefulness, your strength. You're not like the other people in this house. You have ambition. And ambition can lead to power."

He tilted up my chin gently, so I could meet his gaze. "And I can help you achieve it." His thumb traced my jawline, sending a shiver down my spine.

When his finger brushed against my bottom lip I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He smirked and leaned closer, his face only a few inches away from mine.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, his tone laced with mockery. “Did my touch... unsettle you?”

With a swift, almost graceful movement, Langdon sank to his knees in front of me. His hand found its way to my knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of my dress.

“I think the interview is over,” I said, trying to stand up, but he pressed on my knee, not letting me get up.

“I will decide if it’s over or not, Ms. Y/S,” Langdon smirked at my silence, slowly running his hand higher up my thigh. He could clearly see the effect he was having on me, the slight tremble in my body.

“What?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “No witty comeback? No clever quip? Seems like you're losing your grip.”

"Losing my grip?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hardly. I am just amused by your behavior." Even a blind person would see my bluff and feign confidence.

“Oh? Really?” He stood up a bit, leaning closer to my face, almost whispering in my mouth. His proximity was intoxicating, his breath hot against my lips. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage, the desire coursing through my veins like a current. He slowly brushed his lips against mine and I felt a touch of his tongue on my bottom lip. 

It felt like drugs. It felt better than drugs. His tongue teasingly tracing along my bottom lip sent a shiver down my spine, making my legs tremble beneath me. It was overwhelming. I have never felt like this before. In that very second I could do anything for this man.

Suddenly he stopped and looked me right into my eyes, smirking satisfiedly almost like he read a thought that just got in my mind.

He stood up, turning away from me and I bit my tongue not to moan in disappointment. 

“We’re done for today, Ms. Y/S. It was a pleasure talking to you,” He said, opening the door for me. Smirk remained on his face, but Langdon seemed very calm. As if he didn’t just kneel and almost kiss me two minutes ago. 

I needed a few seconds to understand what had happened, so I blinked and then quickly stood up walking toward the door.

“Hope you have a good night, Ms. Y/S,” he said watching me and I can swear, as he was saying that, his hand slid to cover his groin and he definitely wanted me to notice that. 

“Good night, Mr. Langdon,” I mumbled and left the room. 

What the fuck has just happened?

part two

[k1ra0nloose]

"PRAISE THEE THE HEVEANS, PRAISE ME IM THE LORD"

I swear this is the last au I'm introducing</33 also tried rendering for the first time idfk if I did well tho

Pride! smg4 vs this guy yeahhh (Totally not an escuse to draw Mr puzzles)

[a-dreamworld-fool]

I was looking for DD references and stumbled upon matt murdock from earth-65... had to get this out of my head

[urfavssins]

Hmmmmm Mr grizz from Splatoon

SUBMISSION RULES

THE SINS

[lil-mr-slipstream]

-WHAT KIND ⛧F SINNER ARE Y⛧U?-

A set of portraits conceptualizing 9 deadly sins as Disco Elysium Skills! (Use as thou wilt with these?) FRODE (fraud)

Lies and deceit, misdirection against the very logic of reality itself. TRASCURARE (Neglect)

Ignore reality. forget the strain.

AVARIZIA (Greed)

The world is your oyster. Gain all there is to be gained. DECADENZA (Decadence)

Revel without shame. Live all you can while you still can. SUPERBIAE (Egocentrism)

Hold oneself in high regard. You deserve only the best. IDIOZIA (Idiocy)

Act without thought. Live within ignorance. IRA (Wrath)

Spurn the earth, claw all to shreds.

LUSSURIA (Lechery)

Hone your libido. Lust for physical pleasure. CRUDELTÀ (Cruelty)

Relish in suffering. Be cold blooded.

The furies are loose, they are loose at last.

[bethanydelleman]

So I do think the lady who wrote this stupid book has a point about modern media excusing terrible behaviour with tragic backstories, because I read a lot of justifications of Darcy that are centred in Darcy having TRAUMA. Poor boy didn't mean to be rude at the Meryton assembly, he's a poor little orphan who just had sister troubles.

Except that blaming this trend/trope on Austen is insane, because Darcy does not excuse his behaviour in this way AT ALL. He does blame his education somewhat, but if anything his excuse is that his parents loved him so darn much that he became a brat. That's not trauma, that's Trust Fund Baby Syndrome.

In fact, the one person who attempts a trauma explanation of Darcy is... Wickham! He claims that Darcy Sr. loved him more than Darcy Jr., causing Fitzwilliam to be jealous of Wickham. Which would be kind of understandable, if it were true, but Darcy doesn't really seem to care about this and clearly loved his father, so if anything Wickham was a minor annoyance in his life pre-Ramsgate.

The narrator says clearly that Darcy has always been like this, it isn't a trauma reaction, "He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious; and his manners, though well bred, were not inviting... Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared; Darcy was continually giving offence." And Darcy confirms this, he's been rude "from eight to eight-and-twenty" The only time he brings up the whole Georgiana thing is to tell Elizabeth about it, he never blames that event for his behaviour.

If anything, Jane Austen was a proponent of "explain but not excuse". Lucy Steele is mercenary because she is barely clinging to her status in the gentry, but she's still portrayed as a villain because the way she goes about trying to secure Edward (and later Robert) is fundamentally wrong. Mary Crawford has a back story full of trauma, she's an orphan twice over, her uncle sounds like a misogynist creep, and yet Austen doesn't accept it as an excuse, Mary must become better to be worthy of Edmund. Willoughby is an orphan, he's in debt, he's made bad choices, but he needs to do better and because he doesn't, he's not worthy of Marianne.

My Point: Don't blame Austen for the trauma excuses all bad behaviour trope, because she didn't start it and she frequently subverted it!

[chiropteracupola]

why yes, I do think lung tien lien effectively used girl power by reducing admiral nelson (and most of the fleet with him) to absolutely smithereens.

[moonmunson]

if there's one thing mike flanagan is gonna do, it's turn siblings into personifications of grief or sin and i love him for it

[immensely-mediocre-omens]

beelzebub and crowley should be besties. gabriel and aziraphale should not

[immediatebreakfast]

It exploded, everything, the house of glass went down with a single mistake, and the fury of a monster of a man who deems himself to be the all end of death for the young condemned he chooses.

Poor, poor Lucy, all alone in a house where no one can hear her cry. She was so happy to feel better again, so joyful to finally sleep without worries for the flapping against her window, so thankful for the flowers, and for the people surrounding her. Lucy may be alone at the moment, but she is so so loved, and what does this girl gets after so many suffering nights?

I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact record of what took place to-night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing. as I feared to be alone, I opened my door and called out: "Is there anybody there?" There was no answer.

A tragedy plucked straight out of Lucy's most heart locked nightmares.

She is alone, so utterly alone, with no doctors to call for, nor flowers to breathe, she unintentionally commited the worst thing that anyone can do against Dracula. Lucy defied him in that single moment, in that moment by the window when she stared at the bat without a shred of fear. For the Count who gleefully thrives; textually and thematically, when his victims are shaken with pure human fright, seeing Lucy alive and well to the point of looking at his form without terror was the last straw for him.

Let me reiterate that, this man who has become a monster untouched by time itself decided to stage the worst assault possible towards the girl he has been torturing for weeks, because she looked at him without fear in her eyes.

The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the dogs all round the neighbourhood were howling; and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing.

Lucy's mother is dead, her garlic flowers are torn, the house where she lies has no name, the maids are unconscious, the dogs are coming, the wolf is howling, the specks are mocking her, the nightingale calls her to the light.

My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!

Please Lucy don't climb the willow tree, don't fall into the brook! Lucy your life is up ahead just look up! DON'T GO.

Tell me all about it, dear; tell me all about everything, for there is nothing which interests you which will not be dear to me.

Mina... who are you writing to?