#the line of religion and morality and using sex and death

[fappellmoan]

this movie works really well blurring the lines of religion and morals and criticizing internalized/misogyny and the effect of propaganda and sex shame but all anyone wants to do is shit on it as a slasher and the old people fucking 🙄🤚 whatever

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Something In The Night

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: The past is revealed.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

3.9k words

"Well, nothing is forgotten or forgiven When it's your last time around Well, I got stuff running 'round my head That I just can't live down When we found the things we loved Were crushed and dying in the dirt We tried to pick up the pieces And get away without getting hurt But they caught us at the state line Burned our cars in one last fight And left us running, burned and blind Chasing something in the night." ~Something In The Night, Bruce Springsteen.

Jonah lit his third cigarette of the day as he walked into the jail block, stumbling a bit as he turned the corner.

“Drunk already, Jonah?” Marcus was here, bright and early. Realistically, Marcus should have the head of the guard position, and Jonah had said as much but Beatriz said absolutely not. She knew she had Jonah under her thumb. Jonah tried to explain Marcus was trustworthy, that he wouldn’t do anything to endanger his daughter, but nothing.

“In my defense, it’s the same drunk as last night.” He flopped in is chair, pulling his hat over his eyes and crossing his arms as he leaned back. You’d think being Gods special fuck toy and being forced to participate in all night orgies meant not having to work in the morning, but somehow, it didn’t.

Marcus gave a sympathetic hum, but didn’t dwell on it. As much as Marcus knew Jonah hated, fucking hated the orgies, he knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Jonah had seen things he never wanted to, seen the 4 boys he’s known most of their lives having sex, sometimes with each other. It’s disgusting, and he tries not to see it.

Sometimes, as he’s having sex with Beatriz, a woman who forced him into sexual slavery and had his wife killed, who tried to have his daughter killed and hangs her safety over his head every day, he thinks it’d be better if he was dead. If he drank until he couldn’t anymore and fell asleep and never woke up. If he took out his shaving razor and sliced himself open.

But then there was Iris. He couldn’t leave her, Beatriz would almost certainly punish her. Right now, she was doing well. Training to be a house mother, which she liked, compared to other things. Beatriz was talking about marrying her to Frank, which was the last fucking thing Jonah wanted for his girl, to bring her into this house built on burnt carcasses and seal her fate. Jonah survived her for 20 years because he was compliant. Iris’s mouth would lead to her death.

So, for Iris, Jonah trekked on, getting by with obscene amounts of booze and sex. And Marcus. Marcus made the days bearable, long stretches where he could see Iris, longer times where she wouldn’t talk to him. Iris thought he cheated on her mom with Beatriz, that he had some grand roll here, and Jonah couldn't explain the truth. How could he tell his daughter that he’d been so pathetic to let this happen to him for 20 years?

“Jonah.”Marcus’s voice brought him back, a soothing low timber that always calmed Jonah’s nerves. Marcus was a man of few words, but his presence was a comfort. There was something comforting about him, something that put everyone around him at ease. He had a girl he loved too. Marcus’s wife died a few years ago, resulting in the girl being moved to the girls dormitories early, but that was longer than what Jonah had with Iris. All of 2 days alone before his infant was taken away and Jonah moved into the mansion permanently. Marcus adored his daughter, and she adored him in turn. He was a good dad, visiting as often as he was allowed, often finding reasons to go to the girls dormitory so he could “just happen to” run into her. When they did, she’d run up to him squeezing “daddy!!!!” and Marcus would scoop her into his arms. If Jonah saw Iris, many times she’d walk the other way. It depended on her mood.

“Sorry…” Jonah mumbles. “Kinda in my head.”

Marcus hums, sipping his coffee as well. “C’mon. Delilah is moving in in an hour.”

*

Unfortunately for Jonah, Will’s fiance was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen in his life. When the courtship started and Delilah made a near daily appearance at the mansion, Jonah tried to stamp down the festering feelings in his stomach. She was sweet, a bright patch in the dreary world, and she treated him like an actual person. When her eyes were on him, he felt more than when Beatriz went down on him. Sparks he only felt while… well, while with Marcus, but that was different. Marcus was his friend, of course.

Delilah was someone Decon Tom introduced to Will, or rather, brought to his attention. She was devout, angelic, innocent beauty,

It all began as most bad things did for him, in the kitchen getting a snack. Delilah walked in, a skimpy little night dress and looking so, so pretty.

“Hi.” She smiles at him, making Jonah blush. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Ever since she moved in, Jonah’s been keeping his distance. It’s safer that way. He blushes and looks down at the bread he’s buttering, shaking his head. “I think it’s best.”

A step closer. “But I miss our late night talks…” 

“I don’t… I don’t think those are appropriate…”

Another. She’s next to him now, the heat of her body warming the chill of anxiety through him. This was dangerous. This was bad.

Very fucking bad.

Not bad enough to stop though.

When Delilah’s hand touched his back, it was all over for him.

For months they carried out their affair, sneaking in fuck sessions between wedding planning and Will making her scream loud enough Jonah could hear, forcing jealousy to bubble in his stomach because she always had to stifle her moans with him, hushed orgasmed pressed into pillows, bites marks for something to latch onto to. She was perfect. It started as somewhere to relieve the tension that had been building from- no one in particular, certainly not the bear of a man sitting across from him right now, staring him down.

“You need to get your shit together, Hanson.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Then why did I see Delilah leaving your room at 3 am?”

Jonah blushed, but in his slightly drunken state, he couldn’t help but find it a little funny. Was Marcus jealous? 

“Why do you care?”

Marcus slammed his hand down on the table, anger mixed with something a little more… desperate, on his face. “This is serious Jonah! We’re trying to do something here!”

Jonah narrowed his eyes at that, shoes squeaking against the cheap linoleum floors. “What the fuck do you mean?”

With a big sigh, Marcus pinched his brow. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. Things are… going to change. Tom and I are planning something, and we need you to be a part of it. We can’t do this without you.” He looks up, brown eyes connecting directly with Jonah. “We’re killing Beatriz.”

The ensuing conversation devolved into an argument. Jonah didn’t have any loyalty to Beatriz, but there was no part of him that thought they could pull this off. So what if they killed her? Jonah had considered killing her many, many times over the years, but if she was dead, the hydra would grow 4 new heads. If they somehow managed to kill all 4 brothers, there were many still loyal to the Garcia family.

“You have to think of Iris, Jonah!” Marcus called after him as Jonah began to walk away, but this made him whip around to face his friend.

“I am!” He shouts. “Every fucking thing I do is for her! You think I wanna live like this? You think I enjoy those orgies and Breatiz using me every night? You think I like watching all this violence and the boys I’ve known since kids turn into monsters? No! But if I act out, she’ll kill her!” His voice cracks, eyes pleading for understanding. “She can’t suffer because of me, Marcus… Iris… is better than all this.”

Marcus’s shoulders relax, voice softening as he tries to convince him. “Jo, I know you’re scared. You don’t think I’m worried about my girl getting blowback? But, man I just- you gotta see what’s going on here. You really want Iris married to Morales? Is that what you want?”

“No! I- fuck, Marcus. It could be worse. Frank is a good guy-”

“He’s got no backbone, if she marries him she’ll be subjected to everything the others want! She’ll be raped and beat, just like Delilah!”

“SHUT UP!!!” With that, he was gone.

That night, Jonah was called to Beatriz’s room. This wasn’t unusual, but an itch was still in his head that something was overheard. That he was in trouble. That Marcus was. If Beatriz knew anything, she didn’t say. Instead, she had him pressed up against the wall, grinding her body on him.

“Come on, where;s your head at? You aren’t even kissing me, baby.” Beatriz complains, touching and kissing his lean body. 

Jonah tries to get into it, to slip away into his head, escape his body and not exist anymore as Beatriz pulled Jonah’s shirt over his head. Her touch was harsh, a burning grip but after 20 years she knew how to make him feel good. It wasn’t the touch he wanted, but it was what he had, so he took it. Beatriz fucked him with a strap on, Jonah’s hands gripping the sheet and feeling out of body. 

Some days, he could pretend it was something else. When things were going good, he could almost fool himself into believing he was in love. Beatriz was beautiful, and there was a reason she could build such a massive following. She had a way with people, a charisma Jonah couldn’t deny. Sometimes, he would feel they were a family, that Santiago, Frankie, Will, and Ben were their kids and things were good. 

Then he’d be at an orgy, and he can hear the boys he raised having sex.

Then Beatriz would fly off the handle, maybe because of coke or booze or just another manic episode.

Then they’d watch somebody burn alive while members of the cult danced to their screams.

Then Jonah would end up with his arm broken or a knife in his arm. 

Then he’d hear Frankie having sex with Santi, or Ben, and he’d have to try and stop then from hearing each other or keep Beatriz away from the rooms. Homosexuality wasn’t frowned upon in the same way it had been before, it wasn’t a sin, but it was considered unnatural. Something that was more or less harmless for fun (the orgies were a bisexual shitshow) but you weren’t supposed to be in love. Sex, marriage, it was intended for procreation.

In post-sex coitus, Jonah could push all this away. He could hold a beautiful woman in his arms and focus on the orgasmic bliss they’d shared. Beatriz hadn’t hurt him, this time.

“I think we should officially announce Iris and Frankie’s engagement tomorrow. Call a special assembly.”

After over 20 years of having to keep calm in these situations, Jonah’s blood pressure remained steady. Beatriz rested her head on his chest, after all. Sometimes Jonah wondered if that was on purpose.

Jonah thought back to everything he’d endured in this house, all the death and people beaten bloody he’s witnessed. A house full of sins and ghosts. Iris, she couldn’t be here. She would be subjected to the orgies that were just gang rape if you weren’t about it. She would have to walk the glass floors Jonah tiptoed on every day trying not to set off Beatriz. She’d be prime real estate for Santi and Ben, those little gremlins who took after their mother.

He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t make her live like he had, a sex slve to the powerful.

“Yeah, I think we should.”

*

Marcus was having a picnic with his daughter in the field. It was his day off, and was spending every single minute with her. She a shy little thing so different from Iris. Iris was born without fear, Screaming to the world and she never stopped, not once. It was a miracle she was alive. Marcus’s kid was different. Subdued much like him, quiet, except for her tantrums. Jonah had never gotten to know her, he never could, much like Marcus had never gotten to know Iris. Outside of work, they didn’t spend much time together, they couldn’t. The less weaknesses to be exploited, the better. Hell, Jonah had even managed to convince Beatriz that he didn’t have much attachment to Iris, that Santi and Frankie, who he’d known since infanthood, were more important to him than his daughter. This was at the expense of Iris believing it too.

Marcus, however, loved the little girl he rescued. His adopted daughter was the entire world to him since his wife died, and he doted on her every chance he got. The child was considered a problem by most people, prone to meltdown and screaming when things didn’t go her way. This had gotten better the older she got, able to control those emotions better, but had resulted in her being very insecure. She was 12 now, and had no friends. The other girls called her weird. Marcus said she was just quiet.

This place would eat her alive.

When Marcus saw him watching, he frowned, telling something to his daughter. She looked at him with curious eyes, but said nothing as MArcus approached, out of earshot.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked, a mix of annoyance and concern. People weren’t supposed to know they were friends. 

Jonah’s eyes never left the girl. “I’ll do it. For her. For Iris.”

A moment of silence. “We’re doing this for you too, Jonah.”

*

It was Jonah’s job to get her away. The bedroom, of course, was secure, so Jonah was supposed to take her to a room where he was going to have a surprise for her. Tom would kill her, while other guards who’ve turned kill the four boys, framing Santi’s death as a suicide. Jonah tried to argue against Frankie’s death, but Marcus said he was too loyal, too dangerous. Delilah, Will’s fiance, would be announced by Decon Tom as the heir, and she would slowly dissolve the cult into a democracy. 

That was the plan, of course.

But when Jonah closed the door the room, leaving Beatriz wide-eyed and scared as Tom approached, he had the sinking feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.

And it wasn’t.

Marcus had underestimated Ben’s insanity on coke, what he’d do to protect his family. Naked and high as a kite, Ben acted as a Berzerker and went feral, tearing a guard apart who’d tried to kill Frankie. He literally tore out his throat with his teeth. Will was more rational, remaining calm in crisis as he fought off others, while Frankie and Santi grabbed the hidden guns, because of course they brought guns to an orgy. Everyone was killed, traitors and guest, not knowing who was there to distract them.

After leaving Beatriz to die, he found Delilah, begging her to run away, that they can find Iris and just fucking run. He’d protect her, he’d finally protect them both. 

Then Will and Ben, frantic and anxious, burst in the room to find Will’s fiance kissing Jonah, and it was all over.

Delilah was shot before Jonah could even move, square in the forehead as she gasped. Will wasn’t supposed to be alive. Now she wasn’t either.

*

Jonah walked into the dark jail room, several cells filled with people found complicit in the attempted uprising, in the death of the Divine Mother, the attempted assasination of the gods. Today was execution day, and first on the docket was Marcus.

The older man opened his eyes as he lay on the bench too small for his large body. In his 50’s, Marcus was a force to be reconned with, and could take Jonah easily in hand to hand. Unfortunately for him, Jonah had a gun.

No one could prove Jonah had anything to do with the uprising, and only Marcus, Tom and Delilah knew. Delilah and Tom were dead, and Marcus, of course, didn’t give anything in. Even under the torture Will delivered, he didn’t incriminate Jonah, even though thats what Will was looking for.

Will Miller wanted him dead, but Santiago was torn. Santi was absolutely batshit insane, but he did care about a few people. His brother, for one, his mom, and to some extent, Jonah. He knew he should have him killed as well, but held onto sentimentality. Jonah was the only dad he’d ever known. Like an angel and a devil, Will and Frankie argued Jonah’s fate until Santi made his decision.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m really fucking sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Marcus grumbled in turn, grunting as he sat up.

But Jonah was desperate, anxiety filling him day after day after day, a stumble to his steps from constantly drunkenness, a pain in his heart he couldn’t handle. He’d lost Delilah. He was losing Marcus. And worst of all now, Iris was going to suffer. “I’m gonna protect her. Your little girl, I’ll keep an eye on her, make sure she’s safe, she’s happy, I’m gonna do right by you-”

“You can’t, Jo.” Marcus stood up, wrapping his large, thick hands around the bars. His eyes were intense on Jonahs. His face held a weariness showing his age. “No one can know you have any connection to her, or it’s gonna backfire, you know this.”

“But-”

“What’s happening to Iris, hm? How’s she being punished? I know she is.”

A tightness filled Jonah’s chest, crushing guilt, a fear there was nothing he could do to fix. He couldn’t even protect his own daughter, nonetheless someone else’s. “She’s… moving into the house. She’s gonna be the maid, cook, all that…”

Marcus nodded. “She’s be used to control you. I can’t have that happen to my girl.”

Tears were rare for Jonah. He’d lost the ability years ago, but there was burning behind his eyes. “I’m sorry… I-I shouldn’t be alive. I should turn myself in-”

A strong grip pushed through the bars, holding his shirt. “You need to fucking get it together, Jonah. I’m going to die, but those girls don’t have to. More innocents don’t have to! You’re gonna be close here, you still have power. That little prick loves you. Use that, find another way to end this!”

But Jonah didn’t want to. Jonah wasn’t a doer, he wasn’t a leader. He was a soldier. He couldn’t plan an uprising, anything he did would leader to his daughter’s death and the death of many more, like it did this week.

“I’m sorry.” Jonah repeated, and Marcus sighed, pressing his face to the bars. Jonah did the same, seeking comfort through a rare touch that wasn’t pain.

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

After delivering Marcus to the pyre and giving his hand one quick squeeze, Jonah took his place. The close you were to the person being killed, the closer in the circle you went. The boys didn’t know Marcus was his best friend, but Jonah did work with him, as he did majority of those being executed today. This would not be his last dance. 

Deep in the circle, Jonah saw her. The young girl Marcus did all this for, a child forced to dance at her fathers death. Marcus tried to stay quiet, trying to make it easier for his girl, but soon he became to scream, and the girl danced harder. She desperately tried to show her loyalty, the only way to keep herself safe, to dilube herself into believing her dad was a traitor to God herself.

And she danced.

And he danced.

And then he avoided her for ten years.

*

He was going to kill Benjamin Miller. 

All rational was gone, all understand of taking it slow or requesting help, making a plan, or escaping with Iris was gone. It didn’t matter, all he saw was red. Ben was raping her. His baby. His daughter. There was no way in this planet that Iris would cheat on Rey, especially not with Ben of all fucking people. She was being forced.

When he burst into the amory, Ben wasn’t there. But Will was.

“WHERE THE GODDAMN FUCK IS YOUR BROTHER!”

This, of course, ended poorly for Jonah. He was bested, considering his gun had been revoked, and Will as always armed, leaving Jonah on the floor staring down the barrel.

“I see you found out, huh?”

“That your brother is a rapist? Yeah. I did, you sick fuck!” Jonah shouts, but Will rolled his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb, old man. You knew what he was.”

“No, I-”

“You knew damn well. Yeah, most women fell on their knees for him, but I think you knew he forced his way through more than a few times. It’s hard to say no to a god. Melody, remember her? The assasination? You know damn well why that happened. You only care now because it’s Iris.”

A pause. “That’s not fucking true.” But it didn’t have the conviction he needed it to have.

“Lets cut the shit.” Will bent down, gun still on his face ready to blow. “I have a deal for you.”

*

Jonah was going to be sick. He was drunker than belief, as drunk as he could get without blacking out. It was the only way he was going to get through this.

“Make her scream.” Those were his instructions. “Just make her scream, I’ll come in and save her, beat the shit out of you so she thinks you’re dead. Then, you and Iris can leave.”

Will wanted to scare you. To make you distrust the outside world, only trust him and his brothers. He didn’t want to have to worry about you and Reyansh, or any other man. He didn’t want to have to fear you walking down the halls, again and again and again. You weren’t the smartest sometimes, naive, so he wanted you to understand the danger of others. Ironic, considering your skin was mangled from Santiago.

It was for Iris. It had to be for Iris. he had to put is guilt aside and make you think he’s going to rape you. 

“Do whatever you need to do. Touch her, hit her. Fuck, if you need to actually get inside her, just do it. Whatever it takes.”

“You’re disgusting. You’re willing to let me rape your wife, a 22 year old girl just to teach her a lesson?”

“It’s for her own good, Hanson. Now, you’re trying to kill my brother, so maybe it’s Iris I really need to scare?”

He wouldn’t rape you. He wouldn’t hit you. He wasn’t even going to touch you anywear untoward. When you refused to scream, he asked why and your response broke his heart. You didn’t want them to kill him. He should have cut a different deal with Will. Iris could leave with Rey, and Will could actually kill him. He’d wanted to for years, Jonah knew. Everyone is happy. Except you, probably, left alone with a house of psychopaths. But he had to think of Iris. She was here because of him. She was being punished because of him. If Jonah didn’t do this, she’d die because of him.

He stumbled in the kitchen, where he knew you’d be, dressed in a skimpy nightgown because everything else bothered your skin. Your belly was full, swelling out far enough it pushed out the fabric of your dress. 

“Jonah-oh- I… was gonna take you up on the pancakes…”

we're close to the end!!!!!

Sorry it was so late. I had soooo much riters bloc and ima sayits not my best chapter, which is a shame because I saw it all so clear in my head listening to something in the nigh by bruce back in the spring ;-; I tried my best!!!!!

Well, now that we all see why jonah did what he did, what do we think?

Anyway if yall like tis, you migh like my new series, our gentle sins, which is dark logan howlett!

thank you all so so so so much for reading!!!!! i know im slow at writing sometimes esp if something pulls my focus, but thank you.

LOVE YOU ALL!

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[andy4yippee]

DAMN. analysis (not beta read)

Hello. this is an analysis of one, or the darkest album from Kendrick Lamar. it goes into many themes of religion, guilt from religion, love, trauma, death, etc.

I'll start with BLOOD.

the first track.

it starts with "Is it wickedness" "It is weakness?" "You decide."

"Are we gonna live, or die?"

Wickedness - the quality of being morally evil or wrong

Weakness - a state or condition of lacking strength/a quality or feature seen as a disadvantage or fault

The back cover of DAMN. seems to represent wickedness. while the front, seems to represent weakness.

This actually, continues to be a theme throughout the album. each song stands for either wickedness or weakness. that last line, may not mean much, but it means so much after you fully understand it. you can interpret the song into whatever story you want, no matter what way it's played.

in BLOOD, it's a pretty short song, and it seems simple- but it bites you back In the ass when you relisten and understand the full album.

Kendrick helps an old blind woman who seems like shes lost something.

he decides to go over and help her, and says "Hello ma'am, can I be of any assistance? it seems to me like you have lost something. I would like to help you find it."

she replies, "Oh yes, you have lost something. you've lost, you're life."

and Kendrick gets shot and dies.

WOAH! right? You're like, what the hell is happening?

now, this may be some kind of metaphor, but, if it was a real encounter..

huh? kendrick is ALIVE? it seems super random, right? did the old woman shoot him, did a gang shoot him, did he shoot himself? whats going on?

To make sense, we have to go to the next song.

DNA.

In this song, Kendrick states 23 things that are inside his DNA. a strand of DNA contains 23 chromosomes.

he seems very confident on this track. too confident. so, why is Kendrick being murdered on the first track??

these are the 23 things he states are in his DNA -

loyalty

royalty

cocaine quarter piece

war

peace

power

poison

pain

joy

hustle

ambition

realness

kill shit

millions

riches

dark

evil

rot

troublesome heart

soldier

murder

money

sex

There are a lot of negative things in this, but there's a lot of good too.

this song seems to be more associated with wickedness, it even has evil in it, which is in the definition. the way he raps also seems aggressive, not weak.

onto the next track.

YAH.

in this, he seems tired, way more vulnerable, and weak.

this song visibly represents weakness.

Kendrick reflects on his fame. He's afraid he'll work himself to death, he's tired of the media saying shit. his radar is 'buzzing' and he becomes aware of how much his career affects him. he says he's tired of being gossiped about, on fox news, tv, interviews, etc.

when you see YAH, you'd think it's a abrv. for YEAH.

but, YAH is the name referring to the closest name to god. it fits, due to the religious themes.

another important line is -

"im not bout a' religion.

im an Israelite.

don't call me black no more"

He states he's not about 'a religion' although, this album contains themes about him BEING religious. seems confusing right? just like BLOOD.

He's not religious in any way, but he does call himself a Israelite.

in the bible, a Israelite are gods chosen people.

"these people with be cursed with confusion, frustration, and illness until they follow God's will."

so- what's this mean? we learn more In this album that, Israelites are all people of color.

his cousin carl, (theres a tape of a phone call in one track), that he believes that people of color are God's isrealites, and that they'll be cursed of all 'the bad shit happening'.

but, Kendrick, doesn't seem to care, he focuses more on his carreer.

that brings us to-

ELEMENT.

in element, it starts with "KUNG FU KENNY, AINT NOBODY PRAYING FOR ME." "GOD KNOWS WHAT HAPPENS ON EARTH STAYS ON EARTH." (kid capri)

lets go more into that last line. its a bit like, 'what happens in vegas stays in vegas', a term to promote for gambling, etc, saying that no one will know that you've done stuff if you do go there.

so if you take that in context, Kendrick realizes that :

nobody is praying for him, and that no matter what he does he'll end up damned in hell anyway.

he states he doesn't give a fuck about whats happening to him, and he says he would die for his career. this represents WICKEDNESS. you can hear it in his tone. he insults other rappers, and says he's the best rapper. its a response to his weakness in YAH, that he doesn't give a fuck that he's cursed.

see a pattern? weakness, wickedness, weakness, wickedness...

but then, Kendrick realizes.

he does give a fuck.

FEEL.

this starts off with,

"aint nobody praying for me." x3

this features one of his prouducers, VP, a female, named chelsea bylthe saying the same. this is to show that even in music, in his team, no ones loyal, no one truly cares.

this one visibly shifts to WEAKNESS. kendrick realizes...wait. what if I AM cursed. i DO give a fuck.

in element, kendrick hides in his rap career, to escape the fact he's 'cursed' or that he's 'damned'.

FEEL. lets out those feelings.

Kendrick feels like hes lonely, like no one truly cares, and that he's truly ALL ALONE, and that every in the industry is an enemy. he feels weak, so he fights back in this song to seem anything but that.

he still speaks about how hes the best rapper, but how its full of toxic people, showing weakness.

he starts to come with the fact that he might actually be cursed. 2 songs back, he was kind of mocking that.

LOYALTY.

This ones a short anyalisis. its a song about Kendrick trying to get people to pray for him, by having loyalty people by him.

people who he trusts, he needs loyalty.

but, this one shows weakness. the pattern breaks.

PRIDE.

this is considered the worst possible sin of the seven deadly sins.

pride makes you feel above everyone, even god.

this song is likely his post popular on the album, and its a very important song.

"Loves gonna get you killed. But Pride's gonna be the death of you and me..."

confusing, right?

but, you can notice, that Love will simply get you KILLED. pride will be the DEATH of you.

Death seems almost like it would be the end of you. the end of your soul, while love would simply kill you.

In this album, we can see how pride infects him throughout the song.

he states he cares more about his lyrics than others. he says that in another life, a perfect world, he was there.

maybe in that perfect universe, there is a Kendrick who cares about others- but he doubts there's a universe where he doesn't have pride like this.

this track shows weakness.

HUMBLE.

this is THE turning point in the album.

kendrick talks about trying to overcome his sin. pride, but, the fact that he cant help himself from throwing shots at other people.

this track shows wickedness, but almost accidental wickedness.

he wants to be vulnerable and get rid of pride, but he cant seem to do that.

Hes taking shots at other rappers or people, telling them to sit down and be humble.

almost like, "ill be humble, but you better sit down and do the same."

LUST.

this is another of the seven deadly sins. its considered as when sexual pleasure is isolated from the fact of making children.

its a very sexual song. infact, i never noticed how bad it is lol.

it tells the routine of a man/woman who only live for short kinds of pleasure, and wake up to do the same.

it also tells the story of how Kendrick has to change, but how he doesn't. he states he hasn't only been lusting over sex, but fame and money. he fears god now, because of his sins.

this song is the first time Kendrick talks about being afraid of being damned by god to hell.

he begins to be afraid of god in his healing process. he becomes more religious because he fears hell.

he drifts more toward weakness.

LOVE.

this is the oppisote of lust. he states his relationship with his wife.

but, he says he values loyalty more than love.

"ill rather you trust me than to love me."

going back to loyalty..

in the music video, a Kendrick in white gets choked and killed by a Kendrick in black.

they sort of reappear in LOVE.

the one is black is happy, in love, and in a happy relationship in the LOVE music video.

and the one in white is unhappy, and in a toxic, unhealthy relationship.

in love, you can see that he overcame he lust with love.

so..why is there a Kendrick in the music video, doing the COMPLETE opposite? he chose love in the end, right?

he overcomes his pride with humbleness and overcomes his lust with love. he lets go of his wickedness. right?

XXX.

it shows a poor understanding of America's problem. song talks about how young black kids in America will find a way to survive.

we get introduced to johnny, who doesnt want to go to school and wants to be a rapper like his uncle. (this may be keen, his younger cousin)

on a phone call, Kendrick says that if anyone touched his family he would kill that person and openly admit it- then, he quickly ends the call, saying he has to speak at a convection.

it talks about gun control, evil acts in America, etc, and how people turn a blind eye due to the American dream they're living.

kendrick talks about america like the complete opposite of a perfect world referred to in PRIDE.

XXX. could be the 'USA' X rated, but no ones exactly sure.

FEAR.

this starts with a voicemail from duckworth/carl, talking about how he knows that Kendrick feels like no one prays for him and he explains how they're cursed, and how it'll keep going until he follows gods wishes.

we get a verse from Kendrick sung backward.

random, right? but it actually means were going BACK in time.

he talks about when he was a kid, and his abusive mother. she threatened to beat him, and if he ran to his dad, she said she would hurt him more.

his father was the only one who could help him with his mother, and he really looked up to him.

the second verse takes place 10 years later. he was 17.

Kendrick mentions one fear: Death.

the lyrics speculate how he could die.

in 10 more years,

when he was 27, he has many more fears, saying that all the money and fame is a joke from god.

GOD.

God is a DIRECT response to fear, especially to the voicemail.

kendrick didn't want to feel cursed, so he turned to god, which to him, turns to weakness. vulnerable, that's how it seems to make him feel.

he says to god, don't judge me for my past mistakes. he says he was beaten, he did bad things..etc. he feels fear of god. its his way of asking god to not send him to hell.

he says he lives through fear. fear of god.

wickedness, or weakness? Which one?

weakness, right?

but, what if, he was never meant to choose?

YOU decide.

DUCKWORTH.

duckworth is the last track on the album.

he realizes that his biggest enemy was him, this whole time.

"i always thought it was me versus the world"

"until i realized its me versus me"

This is a story. a story of two men, one named ducky, one named anthony.

anthonys life turned into a life of crime. at 15, he was drug dealing, and continued in tih business. he gets approached by cops, gets offered to be a confidential comforter. he says no, and goes back to KFC to get something to eat.

Ducky worked the window and had a young son. he wanted to make money to get his son to college, but, obviously, he's not the only one who needs money, anthony does too.

ducky was aware, and he knew Anthony would. so, he got on his good side, gave me extra biscuits or extra chicken.

Anthony became fond of ducky, that he never robbed the KFC.

Ducky, is Kendricks father. kendrick was signed to anthonys label, and they met together, they laughed together.

because they realized that if ducky wasn't so kind to Anthony, Kendrick would have NEVER become a rapper.

WRAP UP.

to conclude.

you can play this album anyway. it can end, or start anyway. and it will still make sense.

if you play it backward, kendrick goes into a loop of crime, and died in blood, being shot after going into a life of crime after his dad dies from Anthony.

or, he can get better, closer to god, and be successful.

overall, this album was played out perfectly. and my hands hurt. thank you, bye.

THAT WRAPS UP, DAMN. THE ANALYSIS.

thank you.

[dhr-ao3]

The Ghosts of Malfoy Manor

The Ghosts of Malfoy Manor https://ift.tt/8gdStjU by LorraineRose Following the Battle of Hogwarts, the Order of the Phoenix took over the Ministry, restoring stability and justice.Ten years later, the sole heir to two magically powerful bloodlines, rumored to be capable of magic the Dark Lord himself would have coveted, nearly dies during a routine dragon transfer. Hermione Granger, the world's foremost expert in magical restoration, is secretly asked to investigate. Unable to resist an opportunity to acquire knowledge denied to her by birth, she sets her sights on using Draco Malfoy to secure her place on the pages of history; not as Harry Potter's Mudblood, but as the witch who discovered a whole new field of study in the rubble of the second war. But as the facade of a safer, more just world begins to crumble around them, she begins to question everything. Is it possible that the lines of “light” and “dark” are more convoluted than they seemed? Is the security gained by punishing children for their parent’s crimes really the way to ensure lasting peace? Is it possible that those she was conditioned to fear were actually on her side all along? And what if the ghosts who whisper the Malfoy family secrets, distorting her sense of reality, aren’t really ghosts after all? Words: 1960, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Winky | Crouch Family House-Elf, Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, George Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Michael Corner, Seamus Finnigan, Katie Bell, Lee Jordan (Harry Potter), Bill Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, Anthony Goldstein's Father, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort (Harry Potter), Dolores Umbridge, Alecto Carrow, Amycus Carrow, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Cormac McLaggen, Ernie Macmillan, Daphne Greengrass, Astoria Greengrass, Luna Lovegood, Viktor Krum, Ron Weasley, Horace Slughorn, Morfin Gaunt, Tom Riddle, Armand Malfoy Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter, Theodore Nott/Ginny Weasley, Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini, Astoria Greengrass/Luna Lovegood, Viktor Krum/Ron Weasley Additional Tags: Dark Magic Rituals (Harry Potter), Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Ancient Magic (Hogwarts Legacy), Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally Grey Hermione Granger, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Post-War, Alternate Universe, Blood Magic (Harry Potter), Light BDSM, Rough Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, Kingsley Shacklebolt Bashing, POV Alternating, POV Hermione Granger, POV Ginny Weasley, Study of Ancient Runes (Harry Potter), POV Pansy Parkinson, Dragon Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Professor Theodore Nott, Bad Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), the DA, Dumbledore's Army, Wartime Romance, Porn With Plot, Memory Magic, References to Norse Religion & Lore via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/FwsJpUo November 22, 2024 at 04:28AM

[proteovaldez]

Do you ever just feel guilty for existing? Like not in the I’m oppressed and they make me feel hated, but in the I’m oppressed but I don’t do anything.

I was so active about activism and politics when I was younger. Like sure I’m not that old now, but I did so much protesting and understood it as a kid. At a point I just stopped cause I was tired. I was tired living everyday as success story.

I was raised that I had to be the exception and make sure I was the few who were given those advantages so I can help others down the line with the power I’d have. Every day I was genuinely set up for success. Like I was part of youth groups, I was up to date on current affairs and working hard on being the smartest in the room. That way no matter what was said about me they couldn’t say I was unintelligent or uneducated.

Just one day though I just stopped wanting to be the one who had to fix things and be the big mover. It’s frustrating cause I genuinely have those skills and I know I can as I used to when I was way younger due to the support I had from my parents. I decided I just wanted to live, like just be myself and not aim for some greater thing. I wanted to have a life in a secluded place and be a nice retreat for youth who needed a place to rest. Just to rest and know there’s a meal on the table.

I just feel guilty for choosing myself and keeping my head down. I intentionally keep my head down because I want to be able to have a future to do small good. Yes, I know it’s counter productive cause if I keep my head down I’m just helping the system by not making a huge deal and doing all I can to fix it now.

Just there are still gay people who are listed as sex offenders for the bigoted laws we had in America. There are numerous dead gay bodies whose names will forever be associated with being sex offenders. There are people even now who have a criminal record purely because they were protesting or wrong place at the wrong time. Some people who never get their criminal record fully checked for what their crimes were that are denied things cause of their record. The fact that there are convicts who can’t even fucking live outside of jail cause of their past even for minor offenses is beyond scary.

So yeah, I feel guilty for choosing to abide by the system, so that I won’t be targeted more than I am. Yes, I know that will make me a bystander to many things, but at least I’m a bystander that’s still fucking alive and allowed to have a small amount of success in the future. It’s a small thing, but sometimes you grow tired and burned out.

Like I grew up genuinely knowing about what was happening in Afghanistan and the crimes that were committed. I was in elementary and I was already aware of the evils of humanity and that there were men walking free for the fucking horrid acts they did to prisoners. I knew about people deliberately lying about credentials to get shipped overseas to make money and were the reason for so much death. I’ve known about this shit since I was six. Having that much understanding about the world and being told that I’d be the one to maybe fix it one day. Like my parents genuinely believed that I would be a person with high authority and a strong enough presence to fix things. I knew about the multiple genocides happening in Iraq when it was happening and knew the real reasons why we were on the right side politically. Sure some of the government officials probably genuinely wanted to stop it and help, but a good portion of the reason was so we’d have access to their oil. Yeah, fucking oil. Also to cover our asses from 9/11 and stupid religious ideals. It doesn’t matter what your religion is, but if you use it to support the destruction, oppression and death of another group of people then you’re in the wrong. Before you argue, yes I think we should hypothetically kill all nazis and those who support them even now. But I’m aware that makes me evil and incorrect morally. It is that black and white. I am in the wrong for wanting that, because I want a group of people condemned.

Ugh I got off track and started rambling. Just, you know? The world can be that black and white and most of us, actually all of us are in the black for our contribution to the systems that uphold these things or because we do nothing to stop them. But, that’s not the point to have moral superiority, the point should be cause you have fucking empathy and compassion for people suffering.

So, yeah I’m just here moping about my place in the world cause I’m tired and want a small future with little wins and do small good. And I don’t want to dedicate my life to big good anymore cause I’m fucking exhausted. So feel free to make fun of me or whatever, but for those that are also tired and feel so guilty for it. I get it, I understand that it’s hard to keep wanting to do big good after dealing with so many ginormous problems and horrible things in the world. I understand that you’re tired and just want to keep your fucking head down so you can live another day, to just survive. I’m here telling you that you’re not alone in that unbearable guilt that weighs on you for not participating like you should. I don’t know how to fix that or what to motivate you to do more. Just know that I’m happy you’ve chosen to at least still survive. It’s hard to just do that.

I do admire those that commit their everyday to raise awareness and move on from one purpose to another. I admire those that are even just helping cause they want moral superiority or to be popular. Cause they are still doing more than I am. I don’t care what your reason is to do what’s right, I’m just impressed you continue to do it even if it’s because you’re joining a bandwagon late. You’re there at least. I don’t even know where I’m going with this anymore. Guess we can just write this off as a weird diary entry?

[beyondparoxysm]

( may calamawy + cisgender female  + she/her + 37 ) crossing the gates of Jackson is TARA KHALIL! our records show us they are a SCAVENGER and a former HUNTER, known to be RESOURCEFUL AND CLEVER, yet CYNICAL AND IMPULSIVE at this new life. many around town said they remind them of restless nights, reliving the same day over and over again, distorted self portraits, may your survival be long, and your death be swift. ⸻ mini / 28 / EST / she/her / n/a

Demographics

Name: Tara Khalil 

Nickname/Alias: N/A

Age: 37

Place of Birth: Chicago, Illinois 

Sex/Gender: Cisgendered female 

Sexuality: Bisexual   

Physical Appearance

FC: May Calamawy (as she appears in Moon Knight)

Eye color: Brown 

Ethnicity: Egyptian-American/Hamitic  

Hair color and Style: Brunette, worn long and curly. Often pulled up and away from her face. Her decision to not keep it closely-cropped was once a sign of overconfidence, and is now out of laziness. 

Height: 5��6”

Body type: Soft natural kibbe type. Broad shoulders, soft figure, a lean frame that does not readily evidence her athleticism. 

Fitness level: Highly active. 

Tattoos: N/A

Scars/Birthmarks: A number of scars litter her body in evidence of a life spent in constant fight or flight. They are largely faded white lines, with some larger ones stretching across her back.

Disabilities: N/A

Cleanliness/Grooming: She has taken a private, increased interest in grooming in recent months. 

Posture/Gait: Well-coordinated, purposeful and quiet in her movements. 

Psychological Traits

Personality type: ISFP-T, The Adventurer 

Flexible, introverted, and observant. These individuals tend to have a strong focus on what is happening or very likely to happen. As a prospecting individual, they are very good at improvising and adapting to opportunities. Self-conscious and sensitive to stress, these individuals can feel a sense of urgency in their emotions. 

Personality traits: 

Positive: Resourceful, clever, anticipative, courageous, observant 

Negative: Cynical, impulsive, aimless, disobedient

Temperament: Melancholic 

The melancholic temperament is characterized by deep thoughts, introspection, and a propensity for reflection. Their introspective nature can lead to a predilection for solitude, and can struggle with pessimism and overanalyzing situations. They may struggle to adapt to new environments, preferring to stick to what they know. 

Mannerisms: Bites her lip and the inside of her cheek, picks her nails, bounces her leg when sitting. 

Educational background: 16 years old at the time of the outbreak, her education stopped in her sophomore year of high school. She had never been given the chance to figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up – but she has distant memories of once thinking she might go to school and become a teacher. 

Religious background: Tara was raised in a Muslim home, and attended mosque alongside her family. She was never strong in her religious convictions, though has memories of holidays and cultural foods. She has lost religion in the years since the outbreak. 

Self-esteem: Tara is confident in what she can do, but not in who she is. She has never had the opportunity to develop a true sense of self, and as a result is somewhat of a stranger to herself. She is slowly learning her wants and desires, and is frightened by the prospect of being able to do more than just survive. 

Skills/talents: Advanced survival skills. 

Morals/Virtues: Courageous, creative, flexible 

Phobias/Fears: Loss of freedom, death

Angered by: Tara’s temper is somewhat easily triggered. She doesn't like to be told what to do, or to have her motivations questioned. She doesn't like to have others overwhelm her personal space. 

Desires: She is unable to identify what she truly desires at this point in time. If pressed, she would simply claim her desire is to live another day. 

Regrets: Multiple experiences of violence where it was not necessarily warranted.

Communication

Languages known: English, Arabic

Accent: Flat, American accent with no clear regional dialect. 

Style and pacing of speech: Clipped, occasionally pressured, telling of her emotions. 

Pitch: Measured, even, softer than one would expect.

Laughter: Quiet snickering over belly laughing. 

Smile: Private smirks and crooked smiles.

Use of gestures: N/A

Strengths, Weaknesses, and Abilities

Physical strengths: Healthy. Above average core strength. Excellent stamina.

Physical weaknesses: Limited upper body strength. 

Intellectual strengths: Highly resourceful and able to adapt. 

Intellectual weaknesses: Does not consider long-term solutions. 

Interpersonal strengths: Strong observational skills. 

Interpersonal weaknesses: Struggles to form intimate relationships. 

Physical abilities: Above average.

Physical illnesses/conditions: N/A

Mental illnesses/conditions: Extensive trauma history.

Relationships

Family: Tara was raised in a large immigrant family and enjoyed a happy childhood. Her family was torn apart by the outbreak, and over the years members were picked off one by one to the various atrocities which occurred around them. Of her family, Tara maintained the closest and longest connection with her elder brother Omar. The two traveled together for several years after leaving Chicago, and his eventual death after being bitten by a clicker significantly impacted her. Tara currently has no known family members. 

Partner/Significant other: TBD (see wanted connections).

Friends: TBD (see wanted connections). 

Enemies: TBD (see wanted connections).

Significant Background Events

PRE-2013:

Only aged 16 at the time of the outbreak, Tara grew up in an average middle-class immigrant household in the Gage Park neighborhood of Chicago. Tara was the third of five children, and was raised in a multi-generational home that included grandparents, aunts and uncles, and several cousins. Her early life was by all accounts pleasant. She enjoyed reading and writing, was an athlete of above-average talent on her high school’s track team, and had a close-knit group of friends. 

THE CHICAGO QZ 2014-2020:

As a resident in a large city, the events following the outbreak and leading to the establishment of the Chicago QZ were notably horrific. Several members of Tara’s family became infected, and others were lost in the subsequent bombings and chaos. When the walls of the QZ were at last erected, Tara’s large family had been condensed significantly to include her, three of her four siblings, her mother, and two uncles. 

Life under FEDRA proved difficult, and the Khalil family were subjected alongside many other civilians to long working days, limited rations, and cruel overseers. Tara’s younger siblings were enrolled in FEDRA’s schooling with the hopes of one day becoming soldiers, while Tara and her other family members toiled in more labor-intensive roles. Resentment and hunger became constant companions during these days, and anger slowly simmered throughout the city as whispers of a better life began to grow. 

UPRISING 2020-2022:

The Fireflies, undoubtedly seeing an opportunity to gain a foothold in a major city and unseat FEDRA, began to sow the seeds of unrest. A civilian uprising alongside Firefly members broke out, and war raged for the better part of two years as control for Chicago was wrestled over. Tara, who was in her early twenties at the time, was protected by her elder relatives as best they could, though she could not be shielded from the realities of war. It was during this time, with no other option available to her, that Tara learned to fear strangers and defend herself at all costs. 

Her younger siblings, who were essentially property of FEDRA, disappeared during this time period. Their whereabouts remain unknown to this day, though Tara has long-since presumed they died during the uprising. This was a time of excessive violence and fear, and additionally claimed the lives of one of Tara’s uncles and her mother. 

FIREFLY-LED CHICAGO 2022-2023:

After FEDRA was at last ousted from Chicago, the Fireflies took control of the QZ. A tentative peace reigned for a short period of time before those who’d participated in the uprising began to voice their desire to be controlled by no one – FEDRA or Firefly. Tara’s remaining uncle became a prominent voice amongst those who claimed that it was possible for the people of Chicago to govern themselves, and he assisted in instigating attacks on Fireflies. This eventually led the organization to pull out of Chicago. 

HUNTER-CONTROLLED CHICAGO 2023-2026:

Best-laid plans swiftly went awry, and it was not long before Tara’s uncle – alongside others who’d vied for power for the people – were killed. This brutal killing left Tara and her elder brother Omar as the only members of the once-large Khalil family left standing. Both siblings were forced to adapt to the chaos of what Chicago had become: they scavenged and stole, and killed before asking questions. They became versions of themselves they did not know they were possible of becoming, and convinced one another that they had no choice – that the only human parts of them left would be for each other. 

Eventually, Omar spoke of leaving Chicago in favor of finding a new place to call home – the city was low on supplies and increasingly at risk of attack by the infected – and Tara agreed. 

ON THE ROAD 2026-2033:

Tara and Omar encountered more of what they’d seen inside Chicago as they traversed the remnants of America: survivors who were willing to kill to live another day, and infected who only became increasingly monstrous as the virus raged through their decrepit bodies. They continued to act much as they had in Chicago: they took what they needed and did not ask questions. When the two bunked down for the evenings, Omar would often speak of his hopes for a better world – one almost like the one they’d known in their youth. Tara, disillusioned by all she’d experienced, was reluctant to believe that such a thing might be possible. 

Rumors of Jackson eventually caught the ears of the wanderers, and Omar insisted they travel West in search of the settlement. Tara believed it to be no more than a myth, but agreed nonetheless to go on the fruitless venture – believing if nothing else they might find a temporary home along the way. 

While en route to Jackson, Tara and Omar came upon a group of clickers while scavenging an old supermarket. In an effort to save Tara, Omar offered himself as a distraction, and was subsequently bitten. At his urging, Tara was forced to end his life. He made her promise to continue in search of Jackson before his death.

LIFE IN JACKSON 2033-PRESENT: Tara eventually found her way to Jackson. That the settlement was not only real but a veritable Eden seemed like a cruel joke to the woman who’d lost the one person she’d had left, who’d wanted nothing more than to find a little slice of the world before. Tara opted to stay in Jackson to fulfill Omar’s wishes, yet feels as though she does not fit in – she has seen too much and done too much, and cannot relate to those happy citizens who’ve found peace in the new world.

Tara has resided in Jackson for approximately 8 months.

Wanted Connections

GENERAL DYNAMICS: Open to all, multiple characters can occupy the same dynamic, etc.

Friends: Tara struggles to trust others, and can have a cold exterior. I would love to explore individuals who may come from similarly troubled pasts whom she can relate to, or individuals who are otherwise able to break through her shell and access the woman underneath it. 

Enemies: Old enemies and new enemies! Tara’s past as a hunter means that she’s hurt people and taken lives. There may be some who are naturally wary of her based on who she is and what they believe she’s done – whether or not it's entirely true – and perhaps there are even some residents whom she once knew or knew in passing in her life before (see more in “old faces”). She can be an intense person with an angry streak, so it will likely be easier for her to make enemies than friends. 

Old Faces: I would love to explore individuals who may have known Tara or have run into her over the years. Individuals who have been in the Chicago QZ (during any of its iterations as a FEDRA QZ, Firefly base, or hunter hub) or those wanderers whom she may have met out on the road. Tara may have at one point stolen from your character and held them at gunpoint, harmed someone your character loved…or maybe they caught her and her brother in a rare moment of peace, and they shared a meal around a fire before parting ways. I’m open to almost anything, hit me up with your ideas!

SPECIFIC DYNAMICS: See below.  Oh you’re the one TARA KHALIL has been looking for? Their LOVER has been long gone, but you might recognize them as FC UTP, rumored to be 30+ years old. If you stumble upon them, please leave a message for @BEYONDPAROXYSM. Please review Tara’s character bio! This resident of Jackson and Tara have come together based predominantly off of physical attraction. Tara considers Y/M to be a warm body – she enjoys the pleasure they get from one another, but displays little interest in making a true emotional connection. I’m open to plotting this dynamic in any number of directions – they can become friends, enemies, forge an emotional bond and become a true pairing, etc! All ideas welcome.

[captainpookie338]

When you are in this religion and you step out of it, you start to see that maybe things aren't what they seem. Especially the more you travel and make a broader range friends that aren't just Gung ho Evangelical warriors. I loved the idea of a God that would love his creation so much that he sacrificed his only child to save them.... right up until I had children and realized... there was no way i would ever sacrifice them to save the world. Burn down a world for them, yes. Sacrifice them? No. No truly loving parent ever could.

Also the whole morality of it. If you need a disapproving God to keep you in moral line, then that's an issue for you to solve. Being a good person should be the default. Being constantly reminded that you are unworthy, that you have to constantly be on guard against the wiles of evil. ( which in my upbringing was sex, drugs, drinking alcohol, swearing, thinking naughty thoughts, masturbating, being a sexual tease by dressing immodestly,being gay, being sassy or not submissive as a female.) Every Sunday morning, Dunday evening and Wednesday evening, it was an hour long lecture that usually involved screaming from the pulpit that we were all sinners and none of us was good enough for God. I was never going to be good enough for God. It was exhausting.

I have never looked back. I love God and the idea of a loving creator but His loudest followers oftentimes suck.

Once I reached a quiet place on my path, I found a lot out about myself. I have been bi since high school. It took me some time to realize that I like women and men. Definitely women more than men. It took me a lot of therapy to realize, I don't need approval to live my own life.

So yes, the dominant religion here in this country loves suffering, the louder you suffer the closer you are to God. You died carrying a fetus that should have been surgically removed and saved your life, you did it for the pro life glory. You gunned downed a mosque full of worshippers, a club full of gays, a classroom full of children who were being polluted by secular thoughts, you released them to God so they could become pure. It is a death cult but so many people are in it and so many people think their version is best, that we are drowning in it.

The one tenet that I cling to from my former religion is that what you sow, you also reap.

[just-a-borderline-poet]

Grimoire Overview

I decided to copy over some of the basics I put in my grimoire so I can access them even when I don’t have the physical book with me :) 

Directions: 

East: Associated with Air, the color yellow,

South: Associated with Fire, red, 

West: Water, Blue

North: Earth, Green. 

Elements: 

Air: 

Direction: East. Colors: Yellow, Light Blue, White, Silver. Zodiac: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius. Tarot: Swords/Spades. Magical tools: Incense, feathers. Air is the element of flexibility, instability, intellect, and detachment. It moves quickly, is good for workings involving change, movement, and speed. Air energy is also good for communication and contact with spiritual beings, and is linked to communication, mental activity, ideas, and social interactions. 

Earth: 

Direction: North. Colors: Brown, Green, Gray. Zodiac: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn. Tarot: Pentacles/Diamonds. Magickal tools: The pentagram, salt, and stones. Earth is the element of stability. It is solid, and has a very slow and steady energy. Good for spells involving slow change, patience, or gradual developments. Associated with permanence, grounding, security, and endurance. 

Fire: 

Direction: South. Colors: Red and Orange. Zodiac: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius. Tarot: Wands/Clubs. Magickal Tools: Candles, Wand. Fire is the element of clarity, passion, kinship, transformation, and inspiration. It is associated with vitality, creativity, action, daring, and enthusiasm. It moves fast, and is volatile and unpredictable. Fire energy is best for workings you want to kick up the power off, or that you want to see rapid change from. It is also good for spells involving transformation. It can also be used in banishing, divination, and purification. 

Water: 

Direction: West. Colors: Aqua, Blue, Indigo, Purple. Zodiac: Scorpio, Cancer, Pisces. Tarot: Cups/Hearts. Magickal tools: Chalice, Cauldron. Water is the element of movement, cleansing, and healing. It is associated with nourishing, cleansing and clearing, purification, intuition and emotion, creativity, lunar energy, growth, and abundance. Water energy is changable and unpredictable, but slightly less volatile than fire. Water energy is good to call on for change or to stimulate movement, or for cleansing, healing, and purification magic. 

Spirit/Ether: 

Isn’t technically an element, but is often treated as one. Is represented on the uppermost point of a pentagram. Spirit links the 4 elements, is associated with the divine. 

Moon Phases: 

New Moon: New beginning, refreshment, restarts, planning, ideas, a time to start new projects: 

Waxing Crescent: Setting intentions, growth. 

First Quarter: Decision making, action, reflection on decisions, change. 

Waxing Gibbous: Clarification, detail, assessing goals. 

Full Moon: Release, grounding, setting goals, making promises. 

Waning Gibbous: Gratitude, reflection on blessings and things you’re grateful for. 

3rd Quarter: Forgiveness, forgiving yourself, forgiving others. 

Waning Crescent: Surrender, letting go, being mindful, avoid trying to hold on too tight to control at the cost of health and peace. 

Color Magick: 

Yellow: Abundance, life, joy, friendship, action, communication, intellect, inspiration, intuition, wisdom, pleasure, travel. 

Orange: Creativity, adaptability confidence, energy, freedom, justice, goals, ambition, celebration. 

Red: Passion, love, seduction, courage, energy, desire, action, change, power, motivation, overcoming obstacles. 

Pink: Love, self care, healing, compassion, beauty, reconciliation, sensuality, kindness, nurturing, family. 

Purple: Intuition, strength, creativity, enlightenment, psychic protection, projects, astrology, authority, emotion, imagination, wisdom, truth, independance, power, addiction, influence. 

Blue: Peace, protection, communication, clarity, honesty, trust, leadership, justice, sleep. 

Green: Earth, growth, earthly possessions, longevity, money, fertility, abundance, action, change, creativity, luck, harmony, peace, environment. 

Black: Protection, warding, absorbing, acceptance, banishing, binding, strength, security, justice. 

White: Stand in for other colors, cleansing, clearing, purity, purification, attracting, grounding, protection, peace, healing, divination, 

Brown: Hard work, animals, grounding, balance, stability, endurance. 

Grey/Silver: Healing, awareness, psychic ability, purification, moon, sea, stars, divination, femininity, success. 

Gold: Abundance, fame, fortune, money, power, masculinity, sun, luxury, positivity, ambition, creativity. 

Pentagrams: 

Uppermost point: Spirit. 

Upper left point: Air

Lower left point: Earth.

Upper right point: Water. 

Lower right point: Fire. 

To use a pentagram for summoning/invoking, draw the pentagram so that the first line goes towards the point of the element being invoked, or the element what you are invoking is associated with. To banish, the first line is drawn from that point away. 

Uses of a Pentagram: 

Creating a comfortable place for a visiting spirit, opening a window to the energy of a certain element or the being/thing invoked. 

Days of The Week: 

Sunday: Governed by the Sun. Solar energy, for advancement, ambition, confidence, creativity, dominance, egotism, expression, fame, fatherhood, friendship, greed, growth, happiness, healing, health, illumination, individuality, joy, leadership, life, manifestation, masculinity, motivation, personality, personal power, power, pride, prosperity, renown, self esteem, sense of self, strength, vitality, and wealth. 

Monday: Governed by the Moon. Lunar energy, for psychic ability, magicakal prowess, emotion, instinct, illusion, astral work, birth, compassion, divination, dreams, empathy, femininity, glamour, gratitude, family, home, imagination, decreasing and increasing, intuition, motherhood, patience, spirituality, subtlety, and transformation. 

Tuesday: Governed by Mars. Force, energy, physical strength, stamina, battles, confrontation, military, fighting, defense, sex, breaking down and through things, aggression, anger, boundaries, conflict, courage, lust, motivation, passion, protection, escaping bondage, vengeance, vitality, vigor, and war. 

Wednesday: Governed by Mercury. Thought, movement, communication, processing, business, trade, perspective, deception, flexibility, healing, insight, intellect, knowledge, logic, magick, memory, mental processes, music, poetry, protection, science, speaking, studying, technology, theft, travel, trickery, and waiting. 

Thursday: Governed by Jupiter. Higher truth, justice, leadership, wisdom, faith, expansion, ambition, blessings, abundance, ascendance, authority, devotion, enthusiasm, ethics, fortune, growth, higher purpose, higher consciousness, honor, humor, law, legal systems, life path, luck, optimism, philosophy, morality, politics, prosperity, religion, responsibility, rules, spirituality, true will, truth, and wealth.  

Friday: Governed by Venus. Beauty, receptivity, attraction, fertility, poison, agreements, affection, art, co-operation, culture, emotion, friendliness, friendship, grace, glamour, inspiration, jealousy, love, luring, luxury, passion, peace, pleasure, relationships, romance, self-confidence, sensuality, sex, sexuality, sociability, and valuables. 

Saturday: Governed by Saturn. Rules, restriction, contraction, shielding, protecting, boundaries, evolution, endings, karma, dark, gloom, defensive, harvest, aging, agriculture, austerity, binding, death, destruction, duty, equilibrium, fear, formation, history, initiation, intimidation, life cycle, life lessons, limits, patience, perseverance, practicality, prudence, responsibility, sacrifice, self discipline, shadow work, teaching, time, and wisdom. 

Tarot:

Cups/Hearts: Emotion, relationships. 

Wands/Clubs: Passion, action, protection, decisions. 

Pentacles/Diamonds: Practical life, earth, grounding, home, finances. 

Swords/Spades: Communication, thought. 

Fool/Joker: New beginnings, or foolishness. 

Ace: Beginnings. 

2: Balance. 

3: Connection.

4: Stability.

5: Disturbance.

6: Harmony. 

7: Mystery. 

8: Movement. 

9: Growth. 

10: Completion. 

[clonerightsagenda]

hihi! Could you recommend some fantasy(or any genre really) books, with little to no romance in them that you've read, which are good? Or just your favourite books! It takes me forever to find something worthwhile to read

Ok I've mulled this over for a while and here's the list I came up with:

The Broken Earth trilogy by N. K. Jemisin. Some of the best fantasy/sci-fi books I've read. A woman searches for her daughter on a continent plagued with 'seasons', long winters caused by volcanic events. Very minor romance element in the first book. EXTREME content warning for violence, rape, cannibalism, child death, and probably things I'm forgetting.

The Old Kingdom series by Garth Nix, particularly Lirael and Abhorsen. YA. A world with necromancy where there's a line of people devoted to keeping the dead down. A guy hits on Lirael and she panics and says she's 45. Prequel Sabriel and follow-up Goldenhand do have romance elements; Lirael and Abhorsen can stand alone.

The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie. Probably better known as the Imperial Radch author. A fantasy Hamlet retelling narrated by a god.

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger. YA. Canon aro ace MC, a Lipan Apache girl living in a magical alternate America who can talk to ghosts and uses her talents to solve a murder.

The Queen’s Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner. Adventure and court politics in fantasy Byzantine-era Mediterranean, centering around a talented thief who becomes embroiled in three countries’ fight to survive. Some romance but it's mostly not the focus.

Runemarks by Joanne Harris. Norse gods collide with a new religion intent on destroying them. Sequel may have had romance; I don't really remember it well.

Wayward Children series by Seanan McGuire. A series of novellas exploring the fate of kids who've returned from their portal fantasy adventures. MC in the first book is canon ace. Some of the novellas have minor romance elements.

The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud. YA. No romance arc. Have seen the MC described as 'what if Harry Potter was evil'. Prodigy Nathaniel joins the ranks of magicians who enslave spirits and oppress the common population, but can he retain his morality? (Probably not.)

Those were all fantasy. Some sci-fi:

Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee. A captain is made the host of a highly dangerous, unpredictable general’s spirit to win a siege. Space battles, plot twists, and political intrigue ensue. Some characters have relationships; it's not the focus. EXTREME content warning for violence, gore, torture.

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells. You've probably heard of these. A socially awkward cyborg security unit who broke its programming trying to figure out its place in the world. It's not interested in sex or romance and is not happy when anyone suggests otherwise.

I will probably realize I forgot an obvious entry later, but for now, this is what came to mind. Anyone reading this is welcome to add on to it.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 25

Y/n puts an end to everything.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

⚠️HUGE⚠️ trigger warnings: rape, drugging, sex trafficking, VERY graphic descriptions of violence, physical violence (please let me know if I leave anything out)

Hannibal could walk through a valley of human suffering and not even flinch. You couldn't tell if that made him subhuman or superhuman. You, however, were just human.

You wanted to be a badass. You wanted to kick the door down and make a scene. But one woman was enough to break you.

She was wearing only a large t-shirt. A cloth bandage covered in blood covered her pubic area like a makeshift pair of underpants. She laid limply against a stone. Her arms were punctured where needles had been.

"I don't..." she mumbled, clearly intoxicated beyond function. "...don't make me..."

You knew you couldn't afford to stop. But compassion kept your feet firmly on the ground in front of her.

"What is Chase making you do?"

"I can't-" She said, pressing her forehead against the rock. "I can't be an unwoman-"

She began to slam her head against the rock with clear intent to take her own life. Without thinking, you grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into the grass. She sobbed, a bloody, but thankfully, survivable, gash on her forehead.

"Tell me your name." You demanded, squeezing her shoulders.

"...Tiffany." She said with a sudden lucidity.

The name unlocked a memory in you. It was the still image of a sunny young girl, immortalized on a faded missing person's ad hung up at the grocery store. Tiffany Rose Pierce, it read.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, Tiffany." You whispered. "I'm gonna get all of you out of here."

"Vanguard won't like that." She said, slipping back into a state of minimal consciousness.

"Stay here." You instructed, pushing yourself back to your feet.

You readied your gun and slowly, carefully pushed the cabin door open. Suddenly, the stained glass window was the least of your worries.

The entire area was lined with cheaply-constructed bunk beds, like an overgrown henhouse. Women with distinctively long hair were shackled to the lower bunks. Their shaven counterparts, the unwomen, were forced to be the slavedrivers. They held the chained women down.

You heard the rattling of chains coming from the right. It was accompanied with screaming and wet slapping.

"Take daddy's cock you filthy fucking broodmare." A familiar voice grunted.

The only way you could look at him was behind the barrel of your gun. He was exactly how you pictured him while listening to his voice in the car. Unremarkable, middle-aged and serpentine.

"Pastor Armitage!" You yelled.

To hear someone call him by his title in the midst of violating a person was enough to send him into a panic. He sputtered and his entire face turned red.

He didn't suffer for long, though. A 12 gauge shell right through the face took care of that. Fragments of his head, his blood and brain matter splattered everywhere. His knees buckled and his limp body collapsed.

The room fell silent. Smoke trickled out of your barrel.

"Where's fucking Chase?" You asked the room.

Someone weakly pointed up the stairs. You met her eyes and nodded.

"Sorry about the mess."

Now you knew how Hannibal felt. Blowing someone's head off made you acutely aware of your own head on your shoulders. You held it higher. You felt no remorse as you ascended the staircase with your gun blazing.

You came across a room with some words etched in the door. 'Skin room'. You launched your foot squarely into the door, causing it to violently swing open. 

You examined the room from behind the gun. Chase had done a hell of a job dressing up this cheap cabin bedroom like a hotel suite, but the smell hit you before you could be fooled. A brick chimney, a wine cooler and a mahogany desk were positioned so the eye would gravitate towards the luxury while the nose picked up the brutality. The stained glass window was suspended in front of the real window, absorbing the mid-morning light and giving the room an eerie sepia tint. 

You cocked your gun to announce your presence. You heard the sound of running water, and then a side door swung open. 

“You’ll forgive me a couple minutes to freshen up.” Chase said, shaking his hands dry. “Cleanliness is close to godliness, after all.” 

You said nothing. You didn’t want to dignify him with a conversation. 

He bent over and pulled a bottle of wine from his cooler. He placed it squarely on the desk. You looked at it, then did a double take. He grinned sadistically. 

“Is that...” You leaned in to get a closer look. “1907 Heidsieck Monople Gout?” 

Chase shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the wine expert.” 

You’d heard many a conflicting story about the legendary 1907 Heidsieck. Some said as many as 2,000 bottles were pulled up from the depths of the freezing Baltic sea. Some said a single bottle could go for half a million dollars. With that kind of precedent, you never thought you’d ever have to worry about it. Yet, there it was. Right in front of you. 

“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” Chase said, suddenly reminding you where you were.

You returned to your gun. “For when you kill me?” 

“For when I save you.” Chase smiled, his unnaturally white teeth glistening in the sepia light. “See, Miss [F/N], you survived two of my attempts on your life. God has smiled down on you.” 

“Or, maybe,” You interrupted. “You’re just horrible at killing.” 

Chase raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"A knife through the hand hurts like a bitch, but it isn't fatal." You shrugged. "And you didn't do a good enough job beating the fear of death out of Catherine. Else she might have actually gone through with it. Maybe if you'd sent Tiffany-"

"God loves you." Chase interrupted before you could poke more holes in his attempts on your life. "Why you're still alive when so many less deserving of death have died is beyond me, but god works in mysterious ways, doesn't he?"

"She sure does." You smirked.

Chase cleared his throat. You'd pegged him as the type to get irrationally angry at the implication of god being a woman, so his reaction surprised you.

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" He gestured to a seat across from him.

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't think so."

"Pity." He pouted. "Not even for poor Mr. Graham?"

It dawned on you that he probably still thought he had Will, and you could use it to your advantage.

You held your gun at your side and hesitantly sat down in the seat. A gluttonous smile spread across Chase's face.

"So it wasn't wine after all." He said. "It wasn't even your own life. You're only willing to save your soul for the sake of your precious Will Graham."

"What do you care?" You growled through your teeth. "This is just a power grab for you. You wouldn't know what genuine empathy for another person feels like."

He grinned, as if someone had just flipped his 'on' switch. "Jesus does."

"Did Jesus use his influence to lure teenage girls into a sick breeding ring?" You sneered. "I don't remember that from VeggieTales."

"Genesis 1:28." Chase said. "And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply."

"I suppose you also don't eat shellfish or wear mixed fabrics." You rolled your eyes.

"It's always the same arguments from you atheists." Chase scoffed, adding a distinct bite to the last word. "When are you going to show some actual proof that the bible isn't an infallible model for human morality?"

"Maybe when you stop eating shellfish and wearing mixed fabrics." You repeated.

"They are minor sins at best." Chase grimaced. "I have gotten right with Jesus. You, on the other hand, oh, you. Your sins are weighty."

"I did just blast a rapist's head off." You admitted. "And it's going to be two very soon if this one doesn't get to the fucking point."

"I know about your exploits." He squinted. "With Mr. Graham and the man with the Nazi accent."

"He's actually from Lithuania, which, if you wanna be technical," you corrected, just for the sake of being annoying. "Is an ex-Soviet state, but whatever."

Chase tensed up at being corrected. "I know about your hedonistic sexual activities with two men, your exploration. But in the bible, Satan approaches these two people called Adam and Eve..."

"No he didn't." You shook your head. "It was a serpent. The devil wasn't a concept when Genesis was written."

Chase gritted his teeth. "God made one man and one woman. Each to fill each other's sexual desires, within the context of marriage, entirely-"

"But Adam had two spouses, didn't he?" You cocked your head and smiled. "Eve wasn't even the first woman in Adam's life. That was Lilith."

Chase heaved a frustrated sigh. "How do you know that?!"

"I was raised catholic." You said in the tonal equivalent of smacking him upside the head. "I was forced into religion at a young age and brainwashed to hate myself."

"See, that's where we agree." Chase tented his hands, thinking he found a genuine point of connection. "Organized religion is a cancer on society. Christianity is fundamentally about a relationship with god."

You laughed. It was the first real, good laugh you had in a while.

"Don't laugh." He scolded. "I am sorry that that was your experience with religion and that the Catholic church modeled a false teaching of who god is and what he wants. Not all christians-"

You wiped a tear from your eye. "Homie, you killed four people in front of me."

He placed his hand over his heart. "And christ forgave me. And he can forgive you too."

"Alright, this has been fun and everything," you said, standing up. You aimed your shotgun and cocked it. "But, I did come here to kill you, so, open wide."

Chase put his hand squarely over the barrel and pushed it out of the way. "You don’t have the guts to pull the trigger."

You pulled the trigger and blasted his hand clean off. Any hope of reattachment was shattered, as bits of his hand painted the walls and floor.

You opened the gun and let the two empty shells fall to the ground while Chase screamed in agony.

Instead of going through the motions of reloading, you smashed him over the head with the gun. He wrapped his good hand around the barrel and attempted to wrestle it away from you. You took this as an invitation to corner him against the wall with the still-hot barrel against his neck. He smashed his forehead into your nose, sending you tumbling backwards.

The shotgun fell to the ground. You pinched the bridge of your nose to control the blood flow. Chase wrapped a champagne towel around his stump and picked up a small revolver on his desk. He let off a shot, which lodged itself into your shoulder. By the time he let off the second shot, you were on the ground. The third shot didn't fire, just let out a flash and a bang.

"Goddamn blanks!" He cursed.

He tore open a drawer and rummaged around for bullets, giving you a window to come up from behind and gouge your fingers into his eyes. He screamed, dropping a handful of bullets. He flailed aimlessly, then charged backwards, slamming you into the cheap drywall.

He felt around for the bullets without the advent of eyesight. You knew you wouldn't be able to take aim with your shotgun with a bullet lodged in your shoulder, so you dove for the revolver.

Chase grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you down. You hit the floor with a thud, the collision making the bullets jump. Chase grinned, using the sound to place them. He turned around and reached for one, while you scooped up another that had rolled under the desk.

You scrambled to your feet. Chase's hand was just centimeters from the revolver. Thinking fast (but not so thoroughly), you grabbed for the revolver. You wrapped your hand around the barrel, putting yourself at a disadvantage if he fired off another blank.

Chase, however, wasn't that forward-thinking, and opted for a childish game of tug-of-war instead. Knowing he had the brute strength advantage, you waited for him to pull back and released your grip. Chase tumbled, cursing on his way down.

With no thought on your mind but ending this, you launched your foot into his sack, causing him to scream and drop the gun.

Just as you thought it was over, just when the gun was in arm's reach, he kicked your knees backwards and you fell. You swallowed the pain and army crawled for the revolver.

"I don't think so." Chase spat, smiling like a maniac. He grabbed your face with his good hand and his fingers slithered down your throat.

"Choke..." he demanded. "Choke, demoness."

Strengthened by animalistic instinct, you crushed his fingers under your teeth. The sound of snapping bone filled the inside of your head and a sudden rush of blood flooded into your mouth. He withdrew his hand, leaving a finger behind to limply fall down your throat.

You coughed and gagged while Chase screamed. A single bloody digit dislodged itself from your windpipe, flew across the room and landed on the desk.

Chase sputtered something resembling a laugh. "Maybe you're not such a dumb bitch after all."

You grabbed the gun and pushed yourself up with the help of the desk. The finger stared up at you as you loaded the single bullet.

You positioned the finger onto the trigger and guided it with your gloved hand. Then you aimed it at his forehead. Dead by his gun, by his trigger finger. Bleeding on the ground in his private bunker while the empire he built collapses around him. A coward's death. It was poetic enough an end as he deserved.

"You want to say a prayer before you meet god?" You offered.

"My soul is saved." Chase said through ragged breaths. "My place in heaven is secured."

Bang. One bullet, right between the eyes. A bloody fingerprint on the pistol. You dropped the revolver and collapsed. You just laid there, listening to your phone buzz.

[blackgirl-galactica]

*Houses and Their Meanings* ✨🥰❤

//tw: mention of death

Hello!

If you're new to astro like I am and what to learn more about the basics, in a natal chart it's always good to understand houses! Houses are kinda based on the zodiac sign order (1-12 = Aries - Pisces). Let me give you some knowledge ❤🥰✨

1st House: Also known as the angle ASC (Ascendant). Represents self, how people first see you. Appreances. Self-image, personality, honestly anything outward to the public is possibly connected to your 1st house.

Ex: See someone who seems very mysterious or usually may give an intense presence but they're not a Scorpio sun? Chances are they have Scorpio in the first, or Scorpio Asc. (Scorpio= Intensity)

2nd House: Material possessions. How we make and save money. Wealth. Self-worth/Self-esteem.

Ex: Someone with a Sagittarius 2nd house may be good at accumulating wealth since their 2nd house is ruled by Jupiter (Sag is ruled by Jupiter = planet of wealth and luck and expansion). They also may be collecting possessions from foreign countries or from their travels.

3rd House: Siblings/relationships with them can also represent twins since 3rd house rules gemini(twins). Communication. Neighbors. Local/short distances. Primary education life (elementary to high school). Transportation/vehicles.

Ex: Have a Leo 3H? Chances are you may be popular in your neighborhood since Leo rules the sun (popularity or being seen)

4th House: Also know as the IC (Imum Coeli) angle, which is the lowest point of ones natal. Represents home. Our roots. What makes us comfortable/emotionally secure. Also can represent the subconscious since its the bottom of a chart.

Ex: A Taurus 4H may have a hard time parting from their possessions (Taurus = possessions) since those possessions have sentimental value to them and give them comfort.

5th House: Creativity, popularity, self-expression, kids, romance,sports, our hobbies, drama (acting wise), risk-taking.

Ex: An Aries 5H may love sports since their mars energy lines up with sports. A good way for them to manage all that Arian energy.

6th House: Service, employees, pets(@ijaadee on twitter mentions this), health, diet, work work and more work lol. Research. Science.

Ex: Have a 6H in Sagittarius? You may be better off working in a college or college environment since sag rules higher academia (college).

7th House: Represents the angle of DSC (Descendant). Represents relationships with people(romantic or non romantic). Marriage. Contractual relationships. Can also represent people who you hang around most. Law/lawsuits.

Ex: Someone with a Scorpio 7H may not have a big friend group or their relationships could be emotionally intense. (Scorpio rules Pluto= intense ass energy)

8th house: Taxes. Occult. Taboo topics. Inheritance. Sex. Joint materials. Death or possible circumstances of it. Wills. Power and ability to hold it.

Ex: Someone with a Cancer 8th house may inherit money or possessions from their family members, especially the mom or a woman in the family since cancer rules mother and feminity.

9th House: Religion. Law. Higher academia. Ethics. Morals. Long distance travel. Higher ideas. Broad ideas. Wisdom. Where you may be lucky (as 9th house rules Sagittarius = luck).

Ex: Someone with a Capricorn 9H may be extremely wise as they grow older or may have extremely refined ideas. (Capricron rules Saturn which rules time)

10th House: Also known as the MC angle (Medium Coeli). Also known as the Midheaven. Represents the highest point of a natal chart, meaning people will remember you for whatever is placed here in this lifetime. Career. Social status. Prestige. Personal achievements. Authority. Authority structures. Recognition. Also points to fame.

Ex: Someone with a Taurus 10H can have a blossoming career in beauty or music. May even be famous for it!

11th House: Social groups. Technology. Friend circles. Social standards/regulations. Humanitarian interests. Associations. The internet. Gains(money wise). Easier manifestations with planets in this house.

Ex: Someone with an Aries 11H may have alot of military friends (Aries rules Mars = military)

12H: Subconscious. Loss. Self-undoing. Self-sabatoge. Self-sacrifice. The unknown. What we reach for but cant seem to grasp. Hidden enemies.

Ex: Have Aquarius in the 12H? Be mindful because you may have some people on the internet praying on ya downfall and dont know it. (Aquarius= internet)

That's all! I'll update if I find out more!

Love yall,

-Claude

[sometimesrosy]

Hey. It's been a long time since I had a question. Maybe the 100's demise was the reason.

Now coming to my actual query. This past year I have binged numerous shows ranging from American to korean dramas or Turkish dizis. There is certain thing that I have felt and noticed throughout i.e., the woman characters aren't given even a slight leeway by the audience. If the even make a slight mistake, the audience remembers it always to stand against that character. Whereas if there is a male villain, people gets cheerful seeing even a slight bit of humanity in him. They even wait for its redemption.

Let me take an example of a Turkish show "kara sevda(black love)". A one line synopsis can be put like- two leads who love each other endlessly but can never be together. So, the villain in that show is beyond redemption. That character has fallen so far off that there is no coming back. But still when he is playing with a baby, people's comments are like 'best moment of the show.' 'see he is such a good person'. 'the female lead should accept his love'. Am like what?

And if I tell you about the female lead. She is a good person at heart who is sacrificing love for family. And she is labelled "selfish" by audience. 'She doesn't deserve the male lead' etc. And you know I too felt like that for the majority of the show until I reached the point of self reflect.

Even Clarke from the 100 faced so much hate that there wasn't any visible backlash when in the end the makers made her a villain. The backlash was for Bellamy death and stupid end instead.

Looking through tv series, it's so easy to see why tv or films doesn't have female anti heroes. Male anti heroes are so easy to find and also widely successful like Damon from tvd or Klaus.

What is your take?

Yup!

Yes.

Definitely.

You are absolutely correct. The leeway for female characters to show human imperfection is very, very thin. Meanwhile, a guy can literally blow up a planet, kill his beloved father, have temper tantrums with kicking and screaming and torture the female main characters and fandom-- and the creators-- think that makes him a hero. And the requirements for his redemption, if there are any at all amounts to:

WOOPSIE! I'M SOWWY.

I simply do NOT understand that phenomenon.

I mean, I get the need to relate to darker characters, morally gray characters, to explore our own negative impulses...but the whole tendency is, for me anyway, given a more sinister light when you compare how the audience tends to treat these outright villainous male characters compared to even SLIGHTLY morally gray female characters. Maybe just flawed.

It also interferes with satisfying redemption arcs. Because YES watching someone face their dark past and attempt to become better and be redeemed is a great story... but if male characters only have to wear a cape and be hot to be redeemed.... then that's not a satisfying redemption arc. And if women can't do ANYTHING to be redeemed because they are considered irredeemably selfish or whatever for the same flaws someone's Hot Dark Badboy smirks about and isn't even sorry for? Then we barely even get redemption stories for women.

And that's part of the problem, isn't it? Women aren't allowed the same representation as men... even as flawed characters.

The point of good representation is not to represent only the best, most perfect, most desirable, most successful type of people. The point is to allow everyone of any sex, race, gender, sexuality, religion, class, ability, etc to take part in the full spectrum of humanity in our stories, good and bad and mediocre. A female Mary Sue is just the female version your general male hero. One is considered bad storytelling the other is taken as The Way It Should Be.

Women are not allowed to have flaws in most of our pop culture, or women are ghettoized into only women's fic or romance or YA, or women take backseat to male villains, or whatever.

I'm writing a book where the woman abandoned her child, and she sleeps around and cons people and avoids commitment. I purposely wrote her to be unlikable.... or rather, she's not unlikable, she's clever and funny and weird, but she has characteristics that women aren't supposed to have. She essentially acts like a male anti-hero, until her call to action and she is forced to face her past mistakes. But I know that these are things that audiences say are irredeemable for women. Abandon her own child?? No. Not allowed. Even though plenty of male characters go off on adventures leaving wife and child behind and it isn't even considered a character flaw, just... a male adventurer. Or honestly, just a guy. Sure one who's imperfect, but that old ball and chain was probably the worst, right? He had to move on and now he has a tragic backstory and complexity and oh the audience will probably either want to be him or want to be with him, because, that's how these things work.

Not saying that characters shouldn't be dark, do bad things, have flaws, be anti-heroes, have redemption arcs, or have a deep, multilayered villainy.

But I am saying we might want to be a little more critical about what we consider irredeemable for certain people and what war crimes and abuse we let some characters get away with in the name of bold (white) masculinity.

IS the nature of being a (white) man we look up to someone who destroys other people?

I think that toxic masculinity IS seen as sexy. Unfortunately, that's one of the reasons it's seeped into our culture. Manly (white) men who abandon kids and kill without remorse, but with muscles. Manly (white) men who murder whole regions because bad things happened to them, and smolder while doing it. Manly (white) men who commit genocide regularly, but fall for the heroine and save her once. Manly (white) men who are serial killers but with an intriguing depth.

tbh there's lots more to say on the topic, some of it very controversial. These are the stories we like to hear and the characters we love. And it might be rooted in the toxic masculinity that our society has been selling to us as propaganda for decades, if not centuries-- but we don't like to be told to examine our biases, our tastes, our preferences, or our beliefs. It's threatening to our sense of self.

However, that is how you unravel all sorts of toxic belief systems, from misogyny to racism to homophobia to bigotry of all kinds. I added the (white) to this post after I read through it, because I realized non white male characters are not allowed this leeway, either. So this phenomenon is generally (not always) limited to white men. Why?????

my theory? we're still making the colonialists the heroes of the story, friends.

[whump-town]

Take Me to Church

Here it is: my religious!Hotch fic turned Bisexual!Hotch fic. I hope you enjoy my hard work, tears, and disaster bi-thoughts  

Warning: language, sex, homosexuality **there’s no real need for a warning for that but I’d just like to market this to my fellow gays**, religious trauma, Catholic guilt, child abuse, smoking, mention of AIDS in passing but no one has it, character death(s) **not anyone major**, Aaron Hotchner’s mega big boy grande sized guilt complex, ooc bc Aaron Hotchner has the proper emotions, and just general all around intense feelings 

The only Heaven I'll be sent to, Is when I'm alone with you, I was born sick, but I love it, Command me to be well

Word count:  5,794

Praying never made much sense to Aaron Hotchner. 

As a child, he’d prayed with crimson teeth and a bleeding tongue for his mother to be spared in his father’s rampant beatings. The priest always said that prayer shouldn’t be selfish. As he sat on his bruised knees and whispered between sobs, he hadn’t been thinking about himself. He’d been thinking about the little brother in his mother’s womb. About the pregnancy that wouldn’t survive if his father didn’t stop hitting on her. About his poor mother who looked sicker each day.

He must have done something wrong because when God had answered his prayers...

“Come on now son. Don’t be difficult,” the priest’s heavy hands pull him away from his mother’s grave. His suit hadn’t fit well that morning but logged with the rain pouring overhead, it now hangs from his bones. They make their way back home. Back to his miserable son of a bitch father. 

That night, the priest had tucked him into bed and Aaron rolls over in his bed to put his back to the man. As the old man turned to cut the lights, Aaron finally speaks for the first time all day. He’d found his voice deep within his chest and laced it with his father’s unhinged anger. “I killed her,” he whispers, hot tears running down his cheeks. 

The priest shakes his head. “No.” And, the old man could never know this, but what he said next would stay with Aaron for the rest of his life. “It was her time, son.”

God had killed her.

That day was the first time Aaron had ever seen his father cry. He’d stood in the hallway and watched his father sob on his knees, cursing God and swearing up a storm. At seven-years-old, he wondered if God had a sense of humor. He must, after all, to leave Aaron all alone. 

Ten-years later he stood in the same spot his father had kneeled in. He’d looked up at the ceiling and prayed again. He’d begged for his father’s life to be spared. “Just this once, okay, just this once---” but his father had never been a good man. A shitty excuse for a dad but Sean thinks he’s a good man. That’s what mattered: Sean. That’s the only thing that had ever mattered. “For Sean, please? He’s never done anything wrong.”

His father died two days later. A heart attack. The doctor’s called it mercy. For who? The man who beat him senseless for fifteen years before he just sold Aaron off to a boarding school. Calling Aaron’s inability to make friends and emotional outbursts the product of the devil and not his senseless beating. The same man who called Aaron writing with his left hand the simplest proof that his mother had been a whore. She had to have cheated to have created a bastard like Aaron.

Mercy? Is that really what he’d deserved?

He has bible scriptures carved into his back. Thin white lines left by his father’s heavy hand and the black belt he wore to court each Tuesday. The only mercy he’s ever known is the black surrounder right before he falls asleep. That twisted hope that maybe his dad hit him too hard. That he won’t wake up this time. 

It felt like communion-- Eucharist, standing to receive his bread and wine. 

The body of Christ.

“Daddy please-” he makes no sound as the belt comes down over his shoulder. Any noise is a symbol of greater guilt, a better reason to keep hitting. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t move. 

Amen.

Remember, God is always watching. No bullshitting, he knows.

Aaron cums with a cry. A sob really. 

Sam lifts his head from where he’s buried it in Aaron’s neck, leaving the hickey he’d been sucking to die on its own. He sits up, his arousal forgotten as his heart pounds in his chest with fear. “Are you alright,” he asks, pulling them apart with a quick jerk. His hands are traveling down but he stops when Aaron’s hand grabs his wrist. “Baby, if I hurt you---”

Aaron shakes his head but the tears streaming down his face says otherwise. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. He buries his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he can’t stop the tears. Sam moves out of the way of his legs, giving Aaron the space necessary to curl into himself.

Sam still has no idea what’s wrong. It had been fine. Things were fine. 

It occurs to him a moment too late.

“Fuck,” he curses, seething. Not at Aaron or the mood now officially lost--- but for the boy that Aaron never got to be. To the God that Aaron believes so feverishly and unwavering in. “It’s alright,” he soothes, moving along the bed to where Aaron is. He pulls his boyfriend into his lap, holding Aaron to his chest. “Nothing is going to happen, Aaron. It’s going to be okay.”

Sam has never been religious. It wasn’t something his parents had considered important. Standing at over 6’5 and two hundred pounds of just muscle, no one even suspects he’s anything but straight. People who do know… no one’s going to say anything to a guy like him. The same thing goes for Aaron. He may be a little on the scrawny side but he’s 6’2 and no one blinks an eye at the two of them spending so much time together. 

It’s not people they have to worry about. 

They can be cruel and unaccepting but AIDS is still rampant through-out not only the college’s campus but through-out the gay community. 

But Aaron’s a little too preoccupied with God. 

Sam’s not even sure if there’s such a thing.

“Aaron!” Picking him up by his shoulders, he pulls Aaron upright. They’ve passed sobbing and moved to a panic attack. “Alright,” Sam fails to soothe. He pulls Aaron off the bed, holding him close when his legs shake beneath him. “Easy,” he mumbles, his heartbreaking--- Aaron can’t walk. It takes a great bit of work on Sam’s part but with a grunt, he lifts Aaron off his feet.

Stumbling in the direction of the bathroom, he carries Aaron. “It’s gonna be alright,” Sam promises. This isn’t the first time this has happened. Sam would like to think he’s a good boyfriend (he is). He did as much research as he could. So that he would know how to help Aaron the next time one of these events started happening.

Into the freezing shower they go. 

Clutched, naked body to naked body, they rock until Aaron’s broken sobs die down. Until Sam can feel Aaron’s breathing steady out, hot exhales washing over his goosebump riddled flesh.

Against the bare skin of Sam’s shoulder, Aaron whispers Hail Mary to himself. His long fingers tapping against his thumb like counting rosary beads, “---of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now---” It’s the only coping mechanism he’s ever learned. 

Sam presses a kiss to his temple. Aaron hates that he turns his head for more. Turns his head until Sam’s hands are tangled in his hair and holding him tightly. Sam kisses him softly, full of love. He doesn’t deserve that.

“Sodomy is a sin,” he whispers, against Sam’s lips. 

Sam smiles, shaking his head. He doesn’t care. “Did you like it,” Sam asks, voice husky. He wraps himself back around Aaron, shaking from the cold of the water still pouring down over them. Fingers moving up Aaron’s back, he tangles them in his hair. 

Aaron… knows the answer. He also knows that sin is often appealing. Sam is the sin that Aaron can never walk away from. What he always comes back for. “Yes,” he answers, honestly. He had liked it. He’d liked it a lot. Sex with Sam is gentle and overwhelming and--- sin. It’s still sin. 

“That’s all that matters,” Sam presses kisses back to Aaron’s neck. Smiling against his skin when Aaron arches into the touch. 

Aaron can never make Sam understand that this principle isn’t that simple. It’s a black and white morality. Heaven or hell. 

But, maybe… 

Sam reaches around behind him and cuts the water off, Aaron shivers against his chest leaning closer to the touches that are trailing down his body. Sam pulls him closer so that Aaron’s in his lap. With a grunt, Aaron allows Sam to push into him and mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure he falls into Sam’s shoulder. 

“Jesus,” Sam curses, pulling Aaron closer. “You---” he moans, tilting his head back. This time, Aaron’s sets the pace. Slow and steady. It hurts but it’s an ache he’s familiar with. The lube from earlier mostly washed away but he’s prepped and anything is better than thinking about Hell. 

His doomed eternity. 

“You’re so good, baby boy.” Sam holds him close, his fingers digging into Aaron’s hips. “Fu-Fuck---”

Why is it that the only thing that has ever made sense to him a sin?

Sam dies in the middle of first semester their Junior year. Though it’s never stated, it’s Aaron’s fault. Sam wouldn’t have been on the road that if Aaron just prayed harder or been a better man. Panic attacks are a product of a shaky relationship with God and Aaron wouldn’t have had one, he wouldn’t have called Sam freaking out, if he’d just… believed harder. 

Aaron knows it’s his fault. He never gets over that guilt. 

He marries Haley at the end of Senior year and they invite Sam’s parents to the wedding. No one knows the true extent of Aaron and Sam’s relationship but Haley knows something was going on between the two. They’d been high school sweethearts, separated by his years spent away at college. Separated by Aaron’s love for a man.

He comes home different but she loves him. She also knows that her mother approves of Aaron’s God-fearing ways. Religion is good in a man like him, her mother had warned, you can see the darkness in him. She bites her tongue and moves on. 

Until she sees the darkness too.

The divorce breaks him. 

He starts having panic attacks again, worse than the ones in college. No one notices. He knows they just write him off as a dick. He’s just a robot to them. Emotionless and he can work with that. So, he is a robot. Just marching through life and flying by the seat of his pants, hoping that it all goes well. 

But he knows… each night as the panic bubbles in his chest and has him falling to his knees that hell is the only place he’s going. It’s going to take more than prayers to save a sinner like him.

“Hotch?” He jumps at the sudden intrusion. Looking to his left, none other than Emily Prentiss is standing on the balcony. She’s grinning from ear to ear and shaking her head. “What are you doing up so late?”

The cigarette trapped between his lips should answer that well enough.

The thing is, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. She’s noticed him pulling away. Dave has noticed--- hell, everyone has noticed something is wrong. So, when Emily Prentiss had been tossing and turning in her own bed and smelled the wafting, faint scent of cigarette smoke she’d gotten curious. She certainly hadn’t expected to find him.

“Mind some company?”

And with those three simple words she’d pulled him from the edge. 

That night they burned through four cigarettes. Sin, that night, had been just as he remembered it once being. For a moment, as he stood--- her leaning against him and him leaning against her--- he had managed a smile. With a cigarette between his teeth, he’d taken his first real breath in years. 

Foyet attacks him in his apartment and as he lies bleeding he hopes this is it. That the world will flicker out, he’s just a candle drowning it’s wax. Will there be a light or…

He wakes up in the hospital and he’s never been this cold in his life.

It’s Emily’s voice that pulls him from the white walls and the pain. She’s saying something about cigarettes and the seasons changing. He smiles, drugged and submissive, when she proposes the team go to Dave’s and get drunk. He doesn't’ even think about God, about the sin and the eternity in hell waiting for him. He just thinks about his team and the only family he’s ever really been a part of. 

He wakes up thrashing--- a broken sob on his lips. There’s so much pain and he can’t think about anything other than death. Death and Hell and sin and the pain, oh fuck the pain. 

Thin fingers wrap around his, squeezing and he looks up and finds JJ softly soothing him. Her fingers are ghosting along his forearms, rubbing circles into his pale skin. “Just breathe,” she instructs and he’s reminded of Sam and that freezing shower and the---

“Aaron!” she calls and the fortitude, the conviction in her eyes sobers him. “You have to stop,” she tells him, her touch turning hard and that he can focus on. That pulls him back down. “Breathe,” and slowly he relaxes again. She’s softened and he watches the tears pool in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she chides, softly.

He manages to squeeze her hand.

“We almost lost you,” she whispers and that hadn’t occurred to him. His death happens to other people. It’ll just be… nothing. He must be very high or maybe broken because he thinks of nothing. The nothingness that happens after death and not raging, flaming pits of hell. 

JJ presses a kiss to his temple and he closes his eyes. It’s a tender love he… he’s forgotten. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she says, her thumb rubbing against his hand. “I don’t like job hunting.”

He doesn’t know how to tell her that the team wouldn’t fall apart if Foyet had chosen to kill him.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that isn’t true.

Foyet does kill Haley and for a long time, it’s like he’s killed Hotch too.

“Hotch!”

The last he’d seen of Emily, she was displeased with his decision to decline his invitation to girl’s night. First, of all, he’s not that dumb. He knew damn well that they wanted him to tag along because Emily had told them about his date with the cute blonde at the coffee shop had gone tits up. Of course, she’d chosen to leave out that his date had failed because she’d entered the shop and wolf-whistled at the sight of him.

But, she has chosen to blame the entire thing on him because he should have told her.

Ah, silly him.

Now, he’s waiting on his front porch for Will to drop her off at his place. Does she have an apartment of her own? Yes. But she’s a clingy drunk and it’s custom for her to come to sleep in his bed. Besides, who else is going to hold her hair up while she pukes?

He smiles when he sees her. God… leave it to him to pick Emily Prentiss, of all people, to be his best friend. Well, he’s not really sure he chose or picked her so much as ended up within her mercy. “Emily,” he greets softly, smiling when she walks right up to him and headbutts his chest. She just falls straight into him. 

He shuffles to accommodate her weight but they do this little dance frequently. With one hand on the back of her head, he raises the other to wave to Will that he’s free to go. The detective nods and pulls the car into reverse, JJ and Garcia in the back shouting their own goodbyes.

“Alright,” Hotch rubs her shoulders, shivering from the night’s chill. “Pigging back ride?” 

She nods and it’s only with practiced ease that they manage this so easily. 

As he stands, he gives her a second to adjust herself before he starts walking back towards his porch. This is the exact reason he does squats at the gym, so his thighs don’t shake as he carries her up the stairs. 

“Oh,” Emily whines into his back, where her face is buried. “I hope I didn’t wake Jack.”

He’s overly careful to make sure he doesn’t hit her legs as he steps into the door. Stopping to shut the door behind them he tells her, “he’s not here.” He scowls with concentration as he moves down the hall. “He’s spending the weekend with his cousins.” He’d told her this earlier, too many times. It is one of the smaller reasons she’d invited him to girls night: so he wouldn’t have to be alone in his house. 

They share many secrets. He’d been the first person on the team to know she’s gay. He still remains one of the few who know. JJ and Garcia know-- tequila always makes her lose her grip. He also knows that she wants to have a family and about her giant crush on JJ. 

Just like she knows that sitting in his empty house stresses him out. He turns into the empty walls and all he can think about is being completely alone while Foyet was trying to hunt down his son and Haley. She knows this and… she’d left him here all by himself.

“Emily,” he whispers, feeling her hot tears soak into the back of his shirt. He’s not mad or even frustrated, he’s just sad. He can’t do anything about it just yet. So, he takes her back to his room. He helps her out of her blouse, replacing it with his George-town hoodie so she can curl her legs into. 

Only once she’s situated, his back turned so she can hiccup and dry her tears while she slips into a pair of her own shorts he kneels down in front of her. “Emily.” He shakes his head, she’s still inconsolable, so he pulls her to his chest. “Emily, I’m a grown man.” He rubs her back, “I can handle being in my own home.”

She only cries harder and it hurts him because whatever it is that’s really bothering her he can’t fix. 

“Would you love me more if I wasn’t a lesbian,” she asks, sobbing into his shoulder.

Well… he blanks. What is he even supposed to say to that? Now she’s really crying and he’s-- he can’t think of a single thing to say. “Emily…” he shakes his head. “I--I don’t care that you’re a lesbian.” And why would he? How many times have they had the ‘it would be like kissing my brother/sister’ conversation? Or the ‘even if I were straight…’? He doesn’t feel sexually attracted to her. 

He just… he loves her because she’s his family. 

“You don’t,” she asks, sniffling. She pushes his shoulders away from her so that she can see his eyes. So she can see if he’s lying. “You don’t hate me?” Because she’s certain that he does sometimes. Like he can stand the thought of her. 

He shakes his head. “It would be very hypocritical of me to hate you for being gay,” he says, without really thinking about what that means. At what he’s admitting.

Though she doesn’t say anything, the admission sobers her. With tender care he tucks her into bed. Smiling softly when she pulls him down beside her.

They fall asleep on their sides, facing one another. He falls asleep first. Too exhausted to wait her out. Between them, she gently reaches over and brushes her thumb over his cheek bone. Trialing it along the facial hair he’s let grow over the course of their long weekend off. 

He breaks her heart.

“So, are we just not going to talk about it?”

They’re watching a basketball game from earlier in the week because it’s Tuesday and she gets to pick what they watch on Tuesdays. Granted, it’s sports and he hates sports which means that he gets to pick whether or not they sit close. She knows something is wrong because he puts the entire couch between them. They’re not even sharing a blanket and he always lets her have some of his blankets.

She gets cold easily. 

“Talk about what, Emily?” The way he says her name… it’s not right. He always says Emily kindly, loving. He says her name and it makes her proud to be Emily but this time it’s a reprimand and she sees it for exactly what it is—- an attempt to push her away. To make her feel afraid to push on.

But she’s been gay for so long, openly gay. It takes more than a little bit of attitude to scare her off. “You,” she says, softly. “You’re gay, Aaron, and—-“

He flinches at the word gay. Recoiling. “Emily,” his tone shifts to pleading. 

“You—-“ she shifts too. She turns her body to face her, no longer relaxed. “Aaron, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

Sodomy, Aaron thinks. First and for most, there’s sodomy and it’s a sin to love a man. A sin to love men in a way he could never love Haley. Which Emily would understand if he told her about his sex life with Haley. Rather, his nonexistent sex life with Haley. He loved Haley so much but he could never love her the right way. The way God had intended.

By the time he manages to raise his eyes to hers, there are tears streaming down his face. He’s so helplessly broken and he can’t even hide it.

“Oh, Aaron.” Emily pulls him against her chest, rubbing up and down his back as he sobs. “I…” she doesn’t know what to say. She knows it’s the Catholisim here at play but her youth was so very different from his. Matthew had saved her from the fate Aaron had succumbed to. Matthew had shown her the churches many faults and…

Aaron had no one. 

No one but the Bible and a God who never answered back.

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay,” she whispers, rocking their bodies gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you Aaron.”

He sobs even harder. He wishes he could believe that. He does. He wishes he could but…

They agree to never talk about it. Meaning, Emily begrudgingly lets it go.

The universe isn’t ready for Hotch to shove it under the rug though.

There’s this barista at the coffee shop downtown--- more than a barista, he’s the owner, actually. He’s a giant. He almost makes Hotch feel small in comparison. In college, he’d been a football player but he’d messed his knee up pretty bad Junior year. He became dependent on the painkillers he’d received after surgery. He’d dropped out of college a few months later.

Hotch learns all of this only after two coffees.

One that he has Monday with the man’s phone-number and name scribbled onto the side of his cup. His cheeks had turned a furious shade of pink when Morgan had asked who Charlie is and if she was pretty. For some reason, despite coaching himself over and over in the mirror that he’d never go back--- Hotch goes back to the coffee shop Thursday. 

This time as Hotch is handing the other man a five dollar bill he adds his own phone-number and name attached with a simple sticky-note.

He’s not even out the door yet when his phone vibrates. 

“I thought I’d scared you off, mysterious FBI man.”

It makes him stop in his tracks. A smile tugs at his lips and there isn’t a single thought in his head about church or God or his father just this impossibly good feeling in his chest. It’s been so long since he’s done the flirting thing but he replies: “As good as mysterious FBI man sounds, I typically go by Aaron. Besides, it takes a little bit more than a phone-number to scare me off”

The texts keep coming and Hotch doesn’t mind.

Charlie tells him about college and Hotch tells him about the team. It’s out of character for him to be so open but it’s just coffee and flirting and a really hot barista. 

The feeling is very mutual.

“Kiss me, g-man.”

Hotch shakes his head, chuckling when Charlie throws his hips over Hotch’s waist. “You’d better---” whatever threat he’s making half-heartedly turns into a groan when Charlie starts planting open mouth kisses along his collar. Sucking a hickey under his ear where it will be painfully obvious to the team. 

When Hotch lets out a grunt, his hand grabbing at Charlie’s shirt and the other going to his hair Charlie laughs. He buries his face in Hotch’s neck, his hand traveling down to the front of his pants. “Is that your gun?” he pulls back with a smirk. 

Lightly, he pushes Aaron back on the bed. Charlie’s nimble fingers wrap around his jeans, pulling the tight fabric off of his ass. 

“I don’t remember asking for this,” Hotch grunts, fist clenched tightly in the bedsheets. It’s the only way he can assure that he won’t go bucking into Charlie’s palm the minute he starts touching again. He’s not going to cave like that.

To his credit, Charlie stops. He plants his hands on both sides of Hotch’s hips, his mouth sending a dangerous gust of warm air over Hotch’s straining cock. He lifts an eyebrow, “say the word, Aaron.” Say the word and it stops. They don’t dance along fancy lines like that. Charlie wouldn’t do that. 

Sitting up, Aaron wraps his legs around Charlie’s hips. He runs his fingers up through Charlie’s hair, kissing him. With a smile he pulls away and whispers, “fuck me, Charlie.”

And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do just that. 

Sodomy is way better than Aaron remembers.

They’re about three months into this when Charlie learns that Hotch hasn’t told a soul about him. At least, not really. Not past the point of passing in conversation. Hell, he hasn’t even told them that Charlie isn’t some bombshell blonde woman but a 6’4 black man who owns the coffee shop. 

“Fine,” Hotch caves despite the anxiety leaving him so unnerved he’s shaking. “Do you want to come with me to Dave’s this weekend?” He’s got an edge to his tone. He’s hoping Charlie takes the bait and rolls his eyes. He almost hopes for a fight.

Charlie nods his head, “I would like to, actually.”

Fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s far from it. 

He sits on edge for the rest of the week. Begging for a case. None come.

If Charlie has anything to say about Hotch letting go of his hand when they step out of the car, he doesn’t say anything. He does offer him a supportive smile, reaching between them to squeeze Aaron’s bicep.

“Dave,” Hotch breathes the other man’s voice and Charlie can hear the panic seeping into his deep tone. But then he just blanks. 

Charlie stretches his hand out, “I’m Charlie.”

Dave gets over his momentary shock very quickly. “Charlie,” Dave shakes his head with a smile. He avoids the hand being offered and pulls the younger man in for a hug. “I have heard so much about you! I was just a little shocked. I was expecting--”

Charlie laughs, “a woman.”

Dave claps him on the back. “Well, yes, I was.” He smiles at Hotch next, pulling him in for a hug too. Dave can feel just how unnerved Hotch is but he doesn’t comment. He just squeezes him a little tighter. “More so,” Dave says, “I was expecting a blonde. He really likes blondes.”

Charlie glances back at Aaron, keeping his smile in place even when Aaron can’t look up from his intense battle with the floor. 

“Well, come on in! I’ve got enough bourbon and food in here to feed a small army!”

Charlie steps inside first, Aaron hot on his heels.

Charlie turns around, to look back at Aaron. Calling the other man’s name for attention. “Aaron,” he calls softly, grabbing his hand. “Show me to the bathroom.” 

Hotch nods his head, eyes vacant as he moves on through the room. Ghosting. “It’s, ugh,” Hotch points lamely to the door. 

Charlie pulls him into the small room. Aaron making a small grunt of protest. “Look at me,” says, stern but not overbearing. “Aaron, please.”

It takes a moment but Aaron pulls his eyes off the floor. He grimaces when a tear falls down his cheek, ashamed of this display of emotion. This vulnerability.

With a sad smile, Charlie wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “They didn’t know did they?”

Leaning forward, Hotch buried his face in Charlie’s blue t-shirt. It’s old and soft and it does nothing to slow his tears. He shakes his head. “They didn’t.”

Fuck. Charlie wraps his arms around Hotch, pulling him close. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

What other options are there? If Charlie hadn’t forced his hand Hotch would have happily died in the blissful lie he’d created. He could have died alone. No need to come out. Hell, if he’d just found another blonde woman he could have married her and died “straight”. 

Anything is better than this in-between. 

“Aaron,” Charlie breathes his name sadly. He doesn’t know what to say. His family had disowned him. So, he can’t just reassure Aaron it’ll be okay but Dave took it so well. “Have you even given them a chance?”

Well… Dave did take it very well and Emily already knows. 

“No,” he answers honestly. 

Charlie presses a kiss to his temple, asking, “maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt?”

A knock at the door makes them both jump. 

“Hotch,” Reid whines from the other side. “I really have to go.”

Hotch smiles and that makes Charlie smile. “Good?” he asks.

Hotch nods, “good.”

The pair step out of the bathroom. 

Reid blushes and slides past. 

“You don’t think he thinks we were…”

Hotch nods, “more than likely.”

Heading back down the hall, Charlie leans into Hotch’s side. “Which one was that?”

“Reid.”

Charlie hums his understanding. Cuter than he’d imagined. Aaron had said tall and thin but it really did the genius no justice. He’s an attractive young man. “You didn’t tell me he was cute.”

Wrapping his arm around Charlie’s waist he pulls the other man closer. His heart is beating hard in his chest but he kisses the other man, closing his eyes and enjoying this moment. Separating just enough to say, “I think he said he plays for your team. If you’re interested.”

“My team,” Charlie repeats. He runs a finger along Aaron’s brow, sweeping his hair back. “My team is you,” Charlie rolls his eyes. “Doofus.”

Hotch’s jaw drops. “Doofus?” 

Charlie smiles, “my doofus.”

Emily stops at the mouth of the hall, having heard the dee rumbling sound of voices “That’s fucking adorable.”

Hotch groans, pushing his face into Charlie’s chest. 

“Don’t groan at me,” she says. “You’re the bastard that came out to me. Ghosted me. Then went and got a boyfriend.”

Hotch grimaces, “Emily…”

She waves him, turning her attention to Charlie. “You,” she sticks her hand out and they share a handshake. “You got yourself a good one. He can be an ass though.”

Charlie chuckles at that, “he really can be. Also, insufferable.”

Emily opens her mouth in happy shock. “Right? What about him being a know-it-all?”

Charlie nods, “don’t forget being a tight ass.”

Hotch feels a comment about their sex lives attempting to roll of his tongue. Something along the lines of Charlie saying he’d liked his ass last night— instead he just grunts. “Enough about me,” he grumbles. 

Emily smiles at both of them. She really is happy. Hotch deserves to be happy. With a smirk she motions for them to follow her. “Come on, drinks?”

Somehow, despite everything Hotch had convinced himself, everything is fine.

Charlie ends up wondering off with Morgan. The two deep into a conversation about a beam Morgan’s building around. Hotch had watched Charlie gag down Garcia’s awful shots and listen to Reid talk about thermodynamics.

And when Hotch’s anxiety started getting bad again, Charlie was right there. Hotch hadn’t said anything, he didn’t even close himself off. Emily had just excused herself to go yell about something with JJ, leaving him leaning against the bar in the kitchen. But Charlie had come up and squeezed his hand. Winking for good measure. Hotch’s anxiety, like his heart, melted into a puddle around his feet.

“Goodbye,” Emily wishes them a farewell. She kisses both their cheeks and holds on to Hotch a moment longer than she normally would. “So, does this mean we’re back on for movie nights?”

Hotch nods. He’s missed their movie nights. He’s missed hanging out with her. 

In the end, it’s the two of them and Dave.

Hotch’s anxiety rears it’s ugly head. Another painful reminder of the childhood he’ll never escape. Of God and sin and hell. The Catholic Church is solid force in Dave’s life and he’s askin Dave to choose. And Aaron knows he’s not going to be chosen.

“You boys good to drive home?” Dave hands Charlie a Tupperware container of leftovers.

Charlie nods, “we’re okay.”

Well, Charlie is. Hotch is little tipsy and one wrong word away from throwing up on the porch. 

“Be safe,” Dave says, pulling Charlie in for a hug first. He pats his back, lowering his head to whisper. “Take care of my boy, you here?”

It makes Charlie smile. They’d briefly discussed Aaron’s real father but Charlie can see exactly what Aaron had meant when he said Dave had been the man that raised him. He’s gentle and firm and Charlie is glad Aaron was able to find a father. “Of course,” Charlie responds. “Someone has to.”

That makes Dave chuckle. Damn right. 

“Come here, son.” Aaron’s always been bigger than Dave, not that he minds. He pulls him down into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Lowering his voice he whispers, “I’m glad you brought Charlie. He’s a good man. I’m proud of you.”

Hotch feels the dam break. He wraps his arms tighter around Dave, all of his youth and sexuality and feelings finally making sense. He doesn’t have to chose. He can be himself and be happy, it’s allowed. 

Aaron Hotchner didn’t kill his mother or his mother. He’s always done his best and that’s all he can do.

“You’re a good man,” Dave whispers, rubbing his back.

And… Aaron might just be starting to believe him. 

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched (and books I read) this week - 35

As I wait for season 3 of Succession, I thought I’ll re-watch the pilot of Season 1, directed by Adam McKay. Absolutely a great start for the week.

The opening credit theme is a killer!

✴️               

George Méliès X 2:

✳️✳️✳️  The Méliès Mystery, a fascinating biography of magician, toy-maker, pioneer director, impresario and THE inventor of the cinema. Gave me a whole new appreciation for his work. 9/10

✳️✳️✳️ And of course, Scorsese’s Hugo, which recreates the 7 years in Méliès life, when in desperation he burnt the negatives of all his 700 films, and as he operated a small toy booth at the Gare Montparnasse, penniless and forgotten, (Photo above). This is the setting for the story, transformed into a children fairy tale about an orphan looking for his dead father. A technical tour de force and an ode to early cinema, which eventually turns into a history lesson.

✴️          

In a similar vain, Sylvain Chomet’s animated story of Jacques Tati’s 1957 unproduced script The illusionist, which was written in an attempt to reconcile with his daughter whom he had abandoned when she was a baby. 

Lyrical, sentimental and melancholy. 

"Magicians are not real"

✴️          

“Do you want the world to end in Your lifetime?”

Scenes from an Empty Church, an unexpected Covid “Dinner with Andre” from an independent filmmaker Onur Tukel! 

Never heard of it, didn’t know what to expect, watched it for over an hour ... and suddenly it grabbed me, and grabbed hard. It starts as a talkative, philosophical tract with 2 priests trying to deal with the very unusual pandemic that shut down their NYC church. They talk about it, and talk about it, and some of their parishioners enter the conversation and talk about it, but at the end, the anguish and desperation that they feel is being transcended. A bit, at least - 8/10

✴️      

First watch - Stanley Kubrick’s very first film, the short self-financed boxing documentary Day of the fight (1951)! Done when he was 23, fully cinematic and well-composed, with distinct narration The Killing-style.

Happy Find of the week!

✴️      

Bernadette Peters X 2:

✳️✳️✳️ Mel (“Fun”) Brooks’ slapstick film-about-filming Silent movie, a blatant Product Placement vehicle for Coca Cola. Bernadette Peters played the Madeline Kahn role, the very voluptuous Vilma Kaplan, “A bundle of lust”.

“You brought me papers?”

My father would have loved it!

✳️✳️✳️ First watch: Woody Allen’s 1990 Alice, a rework of Fellini’s Juliet of the spirits. With cameos of Thelonious Monk and Mother Teresa, and scenes of Mia Farrow smoking opium. Bernadette Peters was “The Muse” who had to wear reading glasses.

✴️      

So I also re-visited Fellini’s baroque Juliet of the spirits, with the delightful Giulietta Masina. Both Fellini and Allen cast their middle-age wives / girlfriends in the same role. Also, I didn’t realize that Fellini was gay, and his marriage to Masina was partly pro-forma.

Long Live Nino Rota!

✴️      

Gérard Depardieu X 3:

✳️✳️✳️ I have to see all of Truffaut‘s films again! His straight-forward, sweet, simple story telling style. First: The Woman Next Door, where the new neighbor is the old, tragic lover. L'amour Toujours.

And always with Georges Delerue‘s score.

✳️✳️✳️ "When are you coming, Cherie?" 

30 years ago I used to love Green Card, because 1. Romance with Andie MacDowell and 2. Similarities of my marriage of convenience of the same time.

It was actually a rarity, a comedy about immigration policy. I also used to like Peter Weir‘s films.

✳️✳️✳️ La Vie En Rose (2007), a standard French bio of Édith Piaf’s very hard life, full of Marion Cotillard, accordions, and endless grief.

Her music though was better. 3/10

✴️        

As if there was a pandemic, and you can’t get out of the house. Buñuel’s absurdist The Exterminating Angel, about a party of upper class socialites slowly descending into anarchy after getting stuck in a mansion and not able to leave. Uncomfortably claustrophobic and eerily nihilist. Re-watch.

✴️        

White, part 2 of Kieślowski’s ‘Trois couleurs’ trilogy. A disappointing revenge fantasy, whereby a hapless Polish hairdresser suffers a humiliating divorce and somehow manages to gain ‘equality’ by implicating his ex-wife in his fake death.

I loved ‘Blue’, but not this ‘Anti-comedy’.

✴️      

Shirley Jackson X 2:

✳️✳️✳️ Shirley, a “Woman’s film”, made by (nearly all) women, about “brilliant, tortured” writer Shirley Jackson, the author of ‘The Lottery’. Reminiscent of ‘Who’s afraid of Virginia Wolf’, but this younger couple are dull and uninspired. I didn’t find it compelling, except of the final cathartic scene at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the dive below.

‘Let’s pray for a boy. The world is too cruel for girls”.

✳️✳️✳️ Shirley Jackson’s horrifying short story The Lottery (full text here), published in The New Yorker, and featured at the opening scene of ‘Shirley’ above. A story about a small town in New England which follows a long-held tradition of stoning one member of the community every year in a ritual that is accepted by all.

✴️        

Al Pacino in William Friedkin’s Cruising, a commentary on the S&M leather scene at the end of 70′s NYC. Gay sex & open hustling were normalized, but within a story of a serial killer. Not homophobic, but unconvincing and disappointing. With Paul Sorvino and Joe Spinell. 

✴️ Documentaries X 3:       

✳️✳️✳️ Inside Deep Throat, a prurient 2005 documentary Produced by Brian Glazer and narrated by Dennis Hopper. With the typical HBO horrendous quick editing, it claims that Deep Throat is the one event that mainstreamed blow jobs.

America’s reactionary obsession with sex and porn and the politics of religion and morals which fucked it all up. Despicable Alan Dershowitz does his Talking Head shtick.

✳️✳️✳️ First watch: The Thin Blue Line, Errol Morris‘s breakthrough doc, which was faulted (justifyingly) for using reenactments in telling a real story. 

America is filled with so much miscarriages of justice, gun violence, police abuse, and crime, that it’s hopeless to navigate it.

✳️✳️✳️ Fox and the Big Lie, Australian Broadcasting Corp's doc - How Fox News promoted trump’s propaganda and helped destabilize democracy in the USA. Part 2.

✴️         

Why I quit Netflix (It’s true)

- - - - -

(My complete movie list is here)

[dhr-ao3]

Mirror Mirror On The Wall

Mirror Mirror On The Wall https://ift.tt/BmkA24Q by Bellessimaa Hades. Proserpina. He would salvage Hermione. She would make the shipwreck his home. That's how it was meant to be.   My rose, you were made to be loved by me. It's all glitter and roses till you read in between the lines. Words: 6236, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Death Eater Hermione Granger, Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, Morally Grey Hermione Granger, Death Eaters, Stockholm Syndrome, Smut, Dom/sub, Dom Draco Malfoy, Sub Hermione Granger, Knifeplay, Mirror Sex, Body Worship, Body Paint, Kneeling, Top Draco Malfoy, Angst, Shameless Smut, Dubious Consent, Hermione Granger-centric, Love, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Protective Draco Malfoy, Draco is obsessed with Hermione, Powerful Hermione Granger, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore) via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/BdzjaFN December 31, 2023 at 06:24PM

[codyskinner]

NEON GENESIS EVANGELION

Neon Genesis Evangelion: A Religious and Philosophical deep-dive into humanity.

NGE as I will henceforth call the mid 90s Pseudo-mecha anime, is set after a worldwide cataclysm and following the “ending” of the natural world and the beginning of a world existing in one's subconscious.

The storyline follows 14-year-old Shinji Ikari's work piloting a large mech called an Eva in a fight against the Angels, a collective of colonial aliens . This essay will be divided into 3 parts exploring what I deem to be the core of the show: The Psychology, The Philosophy, and The Religious Imagery.

The Subconscious:

NGE takes a deep-dive into the psychological motivations and subconscious urges behind many of its characters’ behaviours, most importantly, the three teenaged pilots of the supremely powerful mechs, Shinji’s father, and Shinji’s mother. After mentioning the subconscious, Sigmund Freud’s work in psycho-analytics should come to mind. If you aren’t immediately familiar, Freud was neurologist who pioneered psychoanalysis, the study on one’s subconscious urges, most notably in Freud’s view, Sex and Aggression. These two themes hold a presence in the mind’s of each character, as each has a distorted view on reality under the lens of unresolved childhood trauma. Shinji is driven by an Oedipus complex as a result of childhood abandonment, a complex from Freud characterized by a lust towards one’s own mother and desire to kill one’s father. Miss Misato, fills the mother-like role in Shinji’s life and thus, he is compelled in her direction. Misato feels trauma from the second impact and her father’s death, an incident leaving a gap of male presence in her life which she fills with casual hook-ups with a man named Kaji. Misato’s view of herself is impacted because of not only in comparison to who she wants to be but the ideal imposed onto her by the conservative and often authoritarian society she lives in, and so she is crippled with self-doubt and criticism. Asuka is one of Shinji’s teenaged peers and someone substantially more sexually aggressive than all others in EVA, stemming from the suicide of her mother. Asuka develops a resistance to truly confronting this in her subconscious so instead she occupies her thoughts with a race or competitive streak to become the best at all she does. Her competitiveness leads her to suffer from a borderline bipolar disorder characterized by bouts of mania and depressions which eventually lead to self harm. Rei is the final character in Eva I will discuss. She is another teen Eva pilot but with one major difference between her and her peers, she is a clone. Rei is fully aware of the ephemeral and fleeting of her existence and so she views herself from a purely objectivist point of view. If Rei is a clone that will die at some point, she must maximize her time as a tool, and means to get to an ends; in this sense, Rei mirrors the nature of strong high level artificial intelligence. Eventually, through her interactions with Shinji, she develops a love for humanity, and her desire towards objectivity begins to mirror the self-destructive tendencies of those around her as it is her work that puts such immense stress on her body, blurring the lines between objectivism and humanism.

The Philosophy:

After the Eva mechs defeat the last Angel, NGE ends with the success of the Human Instrumentality Project. A forced evolution of humanity in which, connectivity accelerates infinitely. As humanity is united, it becomes a singular collective conscious or “soul”. This project is achieved in benevolence for the purpose of ending all suffering and lonliness and alienation that has plagued mankind, most evident in the trauma in NGE’s main characters. Shinji’s soul or character reaches an epiphany in this collective unconscious and grapples with needing interaction and interpersonal relationships and embraces the others around him. Depending on which ending the viewer believes as cannon, the viewer has the choice of believing that Shinji accepts the project and lives in the collective or the alternative which sees him rejecting the collective, reverting the Instrumentality project, and embracing loneliness. This embrace of the Human Instrumentality project mirrors the beliefs of Carl Jung and his theory on the Collective Unconscious, the idea that one has intrinsic universal heritable elements, common to all, that exist in all people’s unconscious mind. The idea of loneliness mirrors Fredrich Nietzsche’s contributions to Existentialism, the idea that men must accept that there is nothing else beyond life and that a failure to live and take risks is a failure to realize human potential. Jean-Paul Sartre was another philosopher who added to this existentialist philosophy that humanity will live in constant anguish not because life is miserable, but because we are ‘condemned to be free’.

The Religion:

Upon first viewing of NGE, the show’s obsession with religion and religious imagery will become evident quick. Fredrich Nietzsche, the existentialist philosopher in which much of Evangelion’s themes are based from, rejects the Christian god, in reaction giving authority to community-created ethos, and the morals of individuals. As Nietzsche puts it, “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.” Yet this simple thesis is unsatisfying, NGE revels in the thought of higher power and higher power. The Angels of the show are in reference from characters of the Old Testament who bear the same names; the first angel is named Adam and the second, Lilith. Kaworu, one of the angels, sees humanity as beings of Lilith, and in one of the climaxes of the series, Lilith is crucified. Even the organization working on the Human Instrumentality Project use of Hebrew inscriptions and titles as a way to tie the collective unconscious to some heaven or godly universality. Mick Broderick, Associate Professor of Media Analysis at Murdoch University in Perth, Australia, writes, "Anno's project is a postmodernist retelling of the Genesis myth, as his series title implies—Neon Genesis Evangelion. It is a new myth of origin, complete with its own deluge, Armageddon, apocalypse and transcendence." I personally appreciate and agree with this conclusion. I believe NGE to be one of the most important worKS of media and art of all time, in the way it tells the age old tale of religion and Genesis in the lens of contemporality and in the age of higher level AI. Because of this, I deem it as the most important explorations of human nature, and a work of art that should be seen by all.