#the power of 'expressionless character' is immense

[sentienceisoverrated]

Ever get those characters where even of there's a twitch of their lips you go apeshit

Every time Odo smiled I would be shaking in my seat. When Lan Wangi smirked I would almost scream.

Characters who only smile in very specific circumstances do something to me. You just know they're about to do something either incredibly stupid or fucking miraculous and there's no in between.

[gab-has-adhd]

What are your Illumi head-canons/ what do you think of Illumi as a character?

Hello 🌸

I had listed my favorite headcanons about him (and about Hisoka as well) in the past; the list is here!

This list might or might not be outdated and might possibly lack a few more recent headcanons I have developped over time. Although I can't really think of any aat the moment hahaha, it's almost 2 AM for me and I had a long, tiring day, so my brain is pretty much scrampled egg now 🥴

To keep it short enough, my personal views of Illumi is that he is a desperate case, who's far too horrible to deserve redemption. He's probably heavily traumatized, but at the same time he's either unaware of his trauma(s) or he is in complete denial. Which sounds... maybe more plausible given the fact that Illumi seems to not even realize Killua hates him and that he has basically traumatized his little brother. His views on what love and affection is supposed to be are completely skewed. He gives an immense importance to family and family values. I'm pretty certain he was kinda a momma's boy when he was younger (might still be). I also think that, being the first born, Illumi must have suffered a *lot*. I mean, he was Silva and Kikyo's first child after all. In a way, he might possibly have been a guinea pig. I don't know how Illumi's assassin training was or what it was specifically, but it must really have been *bad* to turn him... like that :'))

One of my recent new headcanons is a theory I heard from NewWorldReviews, and one I cannot believe I didn't even think of sooner; Illumi might have needled himself. Since we know, from Shalnark, that manipulators can use their powers on themselves... Illumi needling himself to render himself expressionless (possibly harnessing emotions he couldn't control all that well?) and to turn himself into a "flawless" killing machine sounds like a very Illumi thing to do. And this needle somehow eventually began to malfunction or to just be less efficient, and I want to believe that this is because of Hisoka's influence.

Oh, yeah, about Hisoka, I 100% believe Hisoka is the very reason why Illumi "strayed from the path of the assassin" (as Tsubone said). There are just... too many things at this point. From the very beginning the two are introduced as a pair; they have matching outfits, they are both terrible persons whose only friend (or what is closer from a friend) is the other. There are so many details highlighting the very deep nature of Hisoka and Illumi's relationship, and I feel too tired to write them all down, but I did this little thing a few days ago that feels very on-point:

Illumi freaking out when witnessing Nanika's power is, to me, the real Illumi, and the whole emotionless shtick had been a nen-induced facade to be able to focus properly on his job, and on helping the family. Hisoka is very actively turning him worse. And I will die on this hill. 🌸

Illumi's odd behavior aboard the Black Whale (i.e using "Boku" instead of "Ore", asking specifically for a room with a shower, etc) had been read, to some as a possible sign that this Illumi is a disguised Hisoka. This theory was fun but has since then been mostly refuted, since the moment Hisoka actually appeared om the boat. To me, I think this strange behavior from him might be a sign that... Illumi is once again being influenced by Hisoka. He is pretty much becoming more "frivolous", seemingly less focused on just doing his job n stuff. Even if he could have boarded the Black Whale to reach the Dark Continent and possibly find more Ais (maybe he was somehow able to discover that Nanika is from the Dark Continent? Maybe it is something known of the Zoldycks?? Maybe it's linked to Zzigg???), I still cannot help but to find it funny that from his last appearance in the Election Arc to his introduction to the Phantom Troupe, Illumi went from "I want Nanika's power at all costs" to pretty much helping a bunch of gangsters to hunt a clown down through a giant boat... this sounds pretty silly lol like make up your damn mind babyyyy, I thought you was going to hunt down Killua and Alluka, I thought you wanted to gain control over Killua or smth???

Again, he might just be here for the calamity Ai. Or. Or Hisoka might have called him for help after getting his ass kicked by Chrollo. Maybe Illumi is a double agent. Maybe he's here to help Hisoka with his revenge. Maybe the only reason he joined the Troupe is to infiltrate them, to kill them more easily. Maybe he's just another traitor, and he took advantage of Chrollo being so enraged he becomes completely gullible.

After all, Zoldycks don't kill each other and Hisoka is part of the family now. 🌸

YES, I KNOW, I know the mariage thing has yet yo be a widely accepted fact, but honestly, I fail to see how it could just be Illumi using Prenup and Engagement Ring as metaphors or silly analogies, when the Illumi we see has always seemed like a rather straight-to-the-point kind of guy. He has never seemed like the kind to play with words. And this might also just really be a twisted game between two equally as fucked up individuals, but still. I want to believe. This cruise is their honeymoon, and the Spiders are going down. I want to believe. Let me believe. :')))

Okay I wrote way more than what I expected so I'm going to stop here 😭 I am very, very eepy.

Thank you for the ask! It's fairly extremely rare that i get sent anything, and it warms my heart to be asked about stuff like my headcanons about a characters that had been living rent-free in my brain for 2 years :)))

[As always when I write this kind of post, reminder that headcanons are what they are, and you are allowed to disagree, but if you do, don't come yelling at me 😅]

[sinistersinister]

front seat freestyle

what i think of on long drives, when i'm stressed, or when i need to get to sleep. for reasons that are both funny and make sense, i started developing this fantasy three years ago, when i was working in a warehouse overnight. we weren't allowed music or podcasts, which only stopped me from listening when the guard walked by. but nothing was powerful enough to block out the loudness of that factory. to keep my mind focused on something else so i wouldn't have a meltdown, i told myself a story.

PART 1: 30 Second Positive Affirmation Break

I have been told to tail a powerful man. Titan of industry. Let's call him Mr. X. For the first part of the assignment, I take a job at his factory, both to test the waters for salting and because I want to get a good idea of the scale of the operation. I am a face among hundreds of thousands, like one of the workers in Metropolis. Totally, I think, interchangeable with any other worker. Plus he probably never visits the factory floor.

The other part of my assignment is playing the role of a glamorous socialite, going to his parties and being nice to him. Yes yes I know they'd probably get two people to do this job IRL but my fantasy involves genius-level competence on my part such that I'm the ONLY woman for the job. Plus the other people in my org have their hands full I guess. I bravely have decided to take on overtime. I play both the alluring socialite and the anonymous worker.

So one day at the factory, Mr. X DOES visit. Annual inspection or something. He comes and visits my miserable, sweaty little sorting pen. He does not recognize me as the socialite in the corner at his parties. Not yet.

Mr. X MIGHT in his late 30s, but his age is ambiguous. He could be 31, he could be 50. He's not unattractive, just kind of bland? But bland in a way that's slightly off. As if the blandness was calculated. He's like how people who try to dress like 'Gray Men' stand out because normal people like to look a bit showy. I try to focus on his features but they are malleable in my head.

He stands behind me, making pretext of showing me a new #technologyinnovation. Instead he presses into my back as I'm reaching up, wrapping his arms around me. He mutters how well I'm sorting things. It's a joke to him. He sniffs my hair like he's as much affected by my fear, anger, and powerlessness as he is my body. I'd say "as if I were part of his factory, like an object," but that's not true. Mr. X doesn't do this to his machines. I am unique because I can suffer and he likes it. He could do it to any other worker but it needs to be something alive. He likes his meat alive. He's only playing the role of an entitled douchebag. 'Entitlement' means a person doesn't need to think a second thought, that they just assume the world is for them. This man considers everything. He knows what he's doing is wrong. That's why he gets off on it.

I can feel his erection through both our clothes. He has one hand across my chest, proprietary, and one hand wandering in between my legs. My leggings are a thin material and he's stuck his two longest fingers into the space between the front of my thighs. I'm shaking, fighting the urge to wheel around and punch him. The effort is immense, but I can't break character. He must suspect I am acting, because he says things that might deliberately provoke someone working against him. Describes how he's going to lay off so many people this season. How he's buying a yacht. Again, he's playing an evil role that belies far worse evil. His fingers seem to brush my clit on accident. I give the exact amount of sadness I think a normie might give. It would be weird to remain expressionless right? Someone who's never used the phrase "profit is exploited labor-power" would still be sad to hear about layoffs right? I frown and say something like "Oh no, how sad!" And he laughs and yanks my hair so I'm looking up at him. He's searching for something, anything in my eyes that would suggest hidden motive. His reaction is initially ambiguous. Apparently I pass his test, because he gropes me one more time and shoves me back to my workspace.

He steps away. I feel the absence of his weight and I think he's satisfied. Just a little violation of boundaries reminding me of my place and then off to continue his tour. I congratulate myself for not blowing my cover. But then I heard the belt buckle. "Keep working," he tells me. I do. As I work, he tells me about his routine. At this point I think he assumes I'm a normie but one he's interested in fucking with (as I am, he tells me, pretty). He's telling me about how he always comes to his factories to sexually humiliate people. It's his very favorite thing to do. I'm his second stop that day. I hear him stutter over a word and I start to turn around to see why. "Keep your fucking eyes ahead," Mr. X says. I do. His breathing gets rougher and he continues. His monologue gets very grandiose "--And there's not a thing anybody will do to stop me, because I am untouchable. I'll cut down the last tree in the forest with the corpse of a baby panda just to see this world --ngh-- cry." He's jacking off, I realize. "I'll pull people from my factories and nobody will notice at first. And then they'll start talking about me like peasants talk about their feudal lord. QAnon? Their imaginations are too small. I'll start stealing people and draining them of their blood like Elizabeth Báthory, and none of you weak fucks would do a-anything to stop me." I feel something wet hit the widest part of my ass through my work leggings. There's enough that at first I fear he's pissing on me, but he's just prolific. He wipes his cock off on the edge of my shirt. There are a few seconds where all I hear is the ever-present drone of the machines, and his slowing breath. "Of course, the real sick thing is that none of us are even Satanists or ritual demon worshippers. We're painfully normal, if venal. We don't believe in magic or adrenochrome. We only use blood because it's fun to see people die," he says, voice clear and chipper. As if all he'd been doing was telling me about the new health and wellness features on the automated onboarding system.

"Peter Thiel wishes..." I think I hear Mr. X mutter darkly as he clicks the gate shut.

[torawro]

Sosa Hii!! Do you have any aki thoughts??

moneaa hey luv <33 do i have any aki thoughts? of course i do! who doesn’t honestly 😩 i love him a little too much

personally i like character types like him: dark n moody, probably have some trauma in his past, emotionally stunted (intentionally or not), probably a prodigy and really strong…the list goes on fr. i find him and other characters similar to him very appealing and intriguing to me.

sometimes i like to daydream about how personal aki is. like he cherishes the things he’s received very deeply, sometimes on a subconscious level. i kinda noticed this in his partnership with himeno, the cigarettes she gave him, his friendship with power and denji. . . he’s especially that way with you.

you’re something—someone, he can really call his own and no one else’s. you are only for him and he’s only for you. this isn’t something physical you can give away to someone else, and this isn’t a bond that either of you share. he’s yours and you’re his. he finds immense comfort and calm in that fact. so much so, that when denji and power and snoring away in his living room, sometimes he sneaks out of his own house, his heart and his mind leading him to a little slice of heaven in this hell he has to live in everyday: your house. he’s knows it’s risky making his way to you in the dead of night, considering his job and the fact that there could very well be devils lurking around, those with powers he couldn’t even imagine.

but he doesn’t care. when it comes to you, he does what he wants because it’s you. he’s personal like that.

it’s an ungodly hour, past two am maybe, when your phone buzzes in your palm. you were watching miscellaneous videos on youtube when a preview of the text aki sent you briefly drops down on your screen.

open the window in your bathroom.

you weren’t sure why he was here at this hour— you weren’t expecting to see him for another few days— but regardless, you didn’t miss a beat hopping out the comfort of your warm bed and padded your way to the bathroom next to your bedroom.

when you creaked the door open, your eyes were met with your dark haired boyfriend perched on a sturdy branch inches away from your windowpane . you couldn’t help but smile at the adolescent feeling of it all: teen lovers forbidden from being together, so in order to see each other they had to resort to things like this.

once you unlocked the window and he swiftly stepped inside, he locked the glass again behind him and let out a heavy sigh, and threw his head back, before turning to face you. aki’s face was expressionless, even more so because it was dark, but his little heart was a drum against his chest and ribs. a little part of him hopes that you can heart it and realize it’s for you.

aki’s hair wasn’t tied up tonight, he didn’t really feel like putting it up again and decided to let his roots relax a little. so curtains of onyx hair fell in tresses across his face and forehead, his black earrings glimmering slightly in either ear. he wore a simple, large black hoodie and black sweatpants; the sword he carried around for work rested lifelessly on his back. he was always careful.

he didn’t speak for a while, thinking that he would take the initiative to explain what he was doing here, but he didn’t. this only made your worry grow a little more. “aki? is. . . everything okay?”

you met his stare, attempting to find the answers on your own from just looking in his eyes. but you weren’t successful.

aki hummed before replying. “everything’s fine. denji and power snore so fucking loud. one of these days i’m actually going to kill them and dump them on the street.” his voice was low— steady and serious, which something you found attractive, but you could still hear the faint amusement in his voice. “your place is quiet and peaceful.” that was all the answer he gave you before slipping out of the bathroom and making a beeline to your room.

you followed shortly after him, watching him take off his hoodie and sword, maneuvering around your bed as if he lived here. you couldn’t help the chuckle that erupted in your throat.

“so that’s it? you came all the way out here to my house because you couldn’t stand denji and power snoring? wow.” you retorted softly, feigning hurt in your voice as you climbed into bed next to him. “you could have easily moved to another room if it was that bad.”

as if there were magnets in your epidermis layer of skin, aki’s big calloused hands gravitated under your shirt and landed on your side, mindlessly rubbing a path from your hips to your waist. you also snuggled into his side and rest a palm on his chest.

“true. but your room is way better.” he replied. you made an amused humming sounds in agreement.

soon your breathing patterns fell in sync, and before long, you were sound asleep, whisked away into dreamland with your boyfriend carrying you there. he looked down at you in a loving stare you rarely got to see from him. this is personal. this was his. even after all this time he still didn’t like the two devils in his personal space, or anywhere near him really. but aki was . . . particular about you.

and even though he knew you were now asleep, he whispered against the temple of your forehead, “i feel more at peace when im with you, princess.”

[trashywormeateroffics]

The right universe.

Summary: After Y/N's life turns upside down, she's full of grief. Somehow, one day, she manages to travel to the MCU, where she meets her favorite characters, including a certain god who seems willing to establish a friendship with her. Suddenly she's enwrapped in this new world, where everything she loved in a screen is now reality. How will she react? Will she be able to deal with the ghosts that haunt her? Or will she let them consume her? Will she be open to accept the love she is offered? Read to find out!

Read this AO3! 

Category: F/M.

Relationships: Loki/reader.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Vision (Marvel), Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, other minor appearances of other characters but these are the main ones, Pepper Potts, Loki (Marvel).

Additional tags: Loki/reader - Freeform, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluffyfest, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining a lot because we love to suffer, Domestic Avengers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is a parental figure, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Everyone is a good bro, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, y/n, After Infinity War but no one died and the purple bitch was defeated, Missions, Y/N is a universe traveller, Grief, Therapy, Protective Loki (Marvel), Loki in love.

MASTERLIST OF THE STORY

Chapter 6: A raven haired god. 

Thor was in New Asgard, awaiting the arrival of someone he missed immensely.

“Brother!” The blond exclaimed when Loki appeared in a green shimmer and ran to him, enveloping him in a tight hug.

“I. Can't. Breathe.” The god said while his brother was squeezing him.

“Right, sorry.” He said letting go. “So, how was the trip around the realms huh?”

“I'll tell you after I shower.”

“Of course, I convinced Stark to give you the biggest room in the structure, he even decorated the room with your colors!”

“Oh, how kind of him.” Loki said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Even after fighting against Thanos with them, they still didn't trust him enough to let him free of their invigilation.

“Don't be like that, they were all kind enough to accept you into their home, after New York.” He hated being reminded of it, but there was nothing he could do about it.

They got into the quinjet that the avengers tended to lend the blonde Asgardian to travel back and forth from New Asgard and made their way to the compound.

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

Standing in front of the big glass doors, Loki felt anxious, but of course, he hid it perfectly well behind an expressionless mask.

“Now remember, be nice.” He looked at his older brother with a mocking expression and the other one sighed. “As nice as you can be. Please. Specifically to-”

“Yes, yes. You've told me already, the new mortal.” His brother was very insistent on this new asset in the team, Y/N, if he recalled well. Apparently she was some sort of universe traveller and had some powers, but Thor was very adamant about him being kind to her, for reasons unknown to him. But he didn't care, mostly.

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

Y/N was sitting at the counter in the kitchen chatting with Nat and Bruce when Thor appeared in the doorway. He had been gone for three weeks, taking care of some things in New Asgard.

“Thor!” She jumped from her seat and went to him to wrap her arms around him, and in response he hugged her tighter and lifted her off the floor.

“Lady Y/N! I missed you!” He exclaimed.

“I missed you too, Thunderboy!” She said as he put her down. Peeking behind him, she saw God. Well, not God per se, but a god. A certain god she knew very well, even though he did not know her at all.

“Thor,” she paused. “That is Loki.” She ended the sentence matter-of-factly pointing to him. The raven haired god lifted his eyebrows in question but was startled when she smiled the brightest smile he had ever seen. To him. The others just nodded in his direction and left.

“Yes, Lady Y/N, my brother Loki. Loki, Lady Y/N.” Thor introduced them.

“Hi! It's so nice to meet you!” She said nervously. He just gave a nod. “Aren't the others going to welcome him?” She asked Thor but the face he gave her told her everything she needed to know. “Right,” she said sheepishly.

“Lady Y/N, why don't you show my brother to his room, it is the big one on your floor.”

“Sure! Um…” She was doubtful, perhaps she was afraid, Loki thought. “Come with me. Do you have any baggage or something?” She asked.

“I do not.” Not of clothes.

“Oh, okay.”

They got into the elevator and made their way to the floor where their rooms were. Y/N guided him along a hall and signaled to a dark wooden door.

“This is your room, mine is over there.” She pointed to a grey door at the beginning of the long hall. “We are the only ones on this floor, which is good, because everyone here is lovely but they tend to be very loud very early…” She chuckled and he cocked an eyebrow.

“How long have you been here?” He asked out of curiosity.

“Um,” she looked at the ceiling, thinking. “Six months, give or take.”

“And why did you come here?”

“I'll answer your questions once you get settled, you're probably tired.” He nodded, he knew she was telling the truth, she wasn't refusing to answer, yet she wasn't eager to do it.

“Right, yes.” He opened his door to reveal a big room, by midgardian standards. Before closing the door, the mortal, called him. The way she said his name made him shiver. He turned around impasible.

“Thor left a bag in the closet with some clothes in case you want to change and I put some books in the bag too that I think you could like, maybe… anyway, if you need anything, anything, either company or a water bottle, let me know.” She breathed, finally. “Oh! And welcome.” She gave him a shy but sweet smile. He bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, too many thoughts in his mind. But nonetheless, he decided to speak.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

And with that she left and he closed his door.

Soon enough, dinner was served at the dining table. Y/N came down last and saw that everyone was there, except for Loki. She waited until dinner finished, in case he came down later, but when he didn't she put some food on a plate and grabbed a tray.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked.

“Taking some food to Loki, he's probably hungry.”

“And what are you, his servant?” He said, his tone venomous.

“Stark, leave Lady Y/N alone. She's kind with everyone, let her be.” Thor said calmly but with a firm voice. “Thank you.” He said now looking at her. She smiled a shy and sweet smile, as she always did.

“Of course.”

After that, she left the dining room and went to the elevator. Walking nervously down the hall, she approached his door.

“Loki,” she called to him, unable to knock due to the tray in her hands. “It's Y/N, I brought you some food in case you were hungry.” No answer. “Loki? Are you there?” She asked now, confused, but then realized that perhaps he didn't want to see anyone. On the other side of the door, there was a very confused god. “Okay, I'll leave you the tray here, if you need anything just tell me.”

Right when she was turning around she heard the door open. A nervous Loki was standing in the doorway, with a long sleeved black shirt and dark grey sweatpants, but being a professional at hiding his feelings, all Y/N could see was a stoic god. Grabbing the food and then looking at her, he asked:

“Why?”

“What?” She asked, confused.

“Why did you do this and why do you keep telling me that if I need anything I can let you know? Are you planning to lure me in and then kill me mortal?” Y/N laughed and he was pleased with the sound.

“If I was planning to kill you I wouldn't tell you.” She said with the obvious. He gave a nod, agreeing.

“And the other question?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Loki, may I come in? Your food must be getting cold and this is an uncomfortable place to have a conversation.” He lifted his eyebrows, she was shy, that was obvious, but she was also honest, which battled with her shyness. ”I'll answer all your questions.”

He stepped aside and motioned for her to come in with a movement of his head. His room was big, much more bigger than hers, probably because Tony took in consideration that he was a prince.

“You may sit down, if you want to.” He pointed to the bed and she nodded timidly and sat at the edge of one side. He sat in front of her, with his back against the headboard and the tray on his legs. “Are you going to answer now?” If she wasnt so nervous about being in his room alone with him, she probably would have noticed the jokingness in his tone.

“Right.” She sighed. “So, I'm from another universe. The thing is, in that universe you all are characters from a movie franchise called Marvel.” He seemed confused but wanted to let her finish. “So since you are a character in the other universe and I've watched you in movies, I know a bit more about you than the others.” He nodded with furrowed eyebrows. “But the same goes with everyone else! I know a bit more about them than the rest, because I watched them in the movies.”

“I have a movie?” He asked, surprised.

“No,” she said sheepishly, “but you have a TV show!”

“Hm, so how does that answer what I asked you? Why are you kind to me?” He inquired, again.

“Loki, that is a weird question to ask. I'm kind to you because you are a… I was going to say person but… let's settle with being with a consciousness, and you deserve as much kindness as the others do. Also I know you, a little, and you're not… evil.” She finished the sentence and felt stupid for every word that came out of her mouth, she was about to apologize for ever opening it, until he smiled. It was brief, and she would have missed it if she blinked. But he smiled, and it was beautiful.

“So, a weird question huh?” He asked, now more relaxed.

“Yeah, why would you ask someone why they treat you with basic decency? Imagine going around and asking every person who doesn't kill you why they don't kill you!” She exclaimed, flailing her arms to make a point about how ridiculous it was. This time, he chuckled. He actually made a sound of contentment. Because of what she said.

They fell into a comfortable silence while he was eating until Y/N noticed a book on his nightstand.

“So, you chose Romeo and Juliet.”

“I did. Have you read it?” He put the tray aside and sat more comfortably.

“Yes, I did. What are your thoughts on it from what you've read?”

“Oh, I finished it.” He said nonchalantly.

“You what? What are you, a robot? You only got here today.” She said, shocked. He just shrugged with a small smile.

“I had nothing to do and it's a good piece of literature.”

“Okay, since you are a robot and finished it… tell me everything.” Her demand was innocent, she was clearly talking about the book. But Loki felt the compulsion to tell her everything.

“I quite enjoyed it. A tragic romance, who doesn't like those?”

“A tragic romance.” She drew out the words. “I just think it's tragic, maybe there is a bit of romance, but it's not the main plot.”

“How so?” He asked, intrigued.

“It's the story about two teenagers who were brought up in families where hate was more prominent than love, which in return made them fantasize about the perfect love, or what a lot of people call true love. So yes, there is romance, but the thing is, why is there romance? Why did they fall in love so quickly and so recklessly?” She looked deeply into his eyes, “I think it's because when all you know is hate and you find something that might just be love, you take it and you nurture it, no matter how fleeting it might actually be.”

He had the urge to just never speak again, to let what she said be the last thing. Yet, he realized, she was probably waiting for an answer.

“That is a beautiful reflection.” He said. She chuckled nervously. “I don't think I could add anything worthy of saying to that.”

“Thank you,” she told him. “I should probably go to my room now, I bothered you enough for one night.” She started to get up.

“Of course,” he responded.

Before she left down the hallway he called her.

“Mortal,” she turned around, “you didn't bother me, in fact, it was… not as dreadful as I thought it would be.” That was a lie, he never thought that she could be dreadful, yet he wasn't brave enough to tell her that. Y/N smiled.

“Goodnight Loki.”

“Goodnight mortal.”

~taglist~ @mischief2sarawr @midnights-ramblings 

[grey-amethyst]

SNK SPOILERS

Here's probably my biggest disappointment about Shingeki no Kyojin's finale.

There's a lack of focus on the Founder. Her memories of her life were marred in violence, in being objectified and abused, of being beaten down to the point where what she thought were the final moments of her life were spent 'free', so she never left Fritz out of fear of that freedom.

The simplification of her character to a girl who loved a man who enslaved her is such a disservice to her character.

The only non-empty expressions we really see on her face is when she is looking back at the pigs resting in the pen, looking down at her first newborn daughter, when she realizes Fritz was about to be assassinated, and then when Mikasa kisses Eren.

Through the haze of cruelty that shrouded her life, she still held compassion for life. The pigs were livestock, but she set them free. Her daughters were conceived in rape, but she holds them close throughout their childhoods and immediately shields them behind her body when the assassin brings out his spear.

Fritz took everything from her, but she didn't want him to die.

The Founder was a person who spent her entire life, and then 2000 years in Paths, seeing common human experiences like friendship and family and love at a distance. Armin thought she wanted to be connected to humanity still, and we see her watching some scenes during the rumbling: Ramsi's death, Armin being kidnapped and Armin speaking with the shifters, still expressionless.

There are so many possibilities for what the Founder actually wanted. If she wanted to try to understand the purpose of life through other Eldians. We don't know how she felt about her daughters, about the immense cruelty of them being forced to eat her mutilated corpse, if that made her think humans and the world were innately cruel, if her daughters carried her memories too or if they ever thought of their mom, abused for nearly her entire life by a man who saw her as a weapon and warm body, and felt vengeful in her stead.

I was incredibly disappointed by the conclusion of her storyline. I became invested in the Founder's story. The scene of her life, where even in her own memories, even after obtaining the power of Titans, she never speaks or shares a thought, is one of my favorite scenes in all media. It broke my heart. All the devastation caused by Titans and humans wielding Titans, and it started with an enslaved little girl who was compassionate enough to set pigs free and was mutilated, hunted for sport, and almost killed for it. She unknowingly attached to the source of all life, terrified and desperately wanting to live.

My theory was that the source of all life built Titans as a reflection of how the Founder saw the world, where the strong are cruel and gluttonous, where they raze communities and even brutalize one another if given the chance. I thought that she was confused, and she thought of death as freedom from the cruelty of life, but she also saw Eldians who loved each other, like Eren, Armin, and Mikasa, and wasn't sure if humanity was as unforgiving as she thought. So she lingered in Paths because it is a deathless, lifeless place, and she allowed the Titan shifters to recover there as long as they had the will to live because she thought they must have reasons for wanting to return to that cruel world.

I wanted the Founder to have her voice back, even just to say her name.

I know it's odd to cling onto, but I still don't think Ymir was her true name. Fritz saw her as just another slave before she attained the power of Titans. She was a child whose parents were slaughtered, village was destroyed, and tongue was cut out. I doubt anyone asked for her name. Fritz called her "Ymir, my slave" and "our slave Ymir" -- I fully believe that Ymir was the name he attached to her and not the one her parents chose for her.

The Founder deserved to be able to share her thoughts and feelings in her own words rather than others thinking for her as they had for her entire short life in the world.

[featherquillpen]

Reclist: Eldritch/Inhuman Castiel

My interest in Supernatural, such as it is, begins and ends with Castiel, a gay angel who is portrayed by known human being Misha Collins, but is shown by visual storytelling (shattering glass, fallen trees, dramatic lightning flashes) and in dialogue ("I am a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent", "my true body is the size of the Chrysler Building") to be an incorporeal nightmare monster who just so happens to have possessed a suburban dad. I am a monsterfucker who absolutely wanted to read about a terrifying eldritch gay angel, but I discovered to my great disappointment that most SPN fanwork portrays him as a quirky human man lightly dusted with halo spice.

However, I have managed to find some fanwork that gave me the many-eyed, mind-breaking, dorky gay possession spirit that I crave, and I thought I would share my finds with all my fellow alienfuckers. Also, for those alienfuckers who are not in this fandom (excellent life choice, by the way) I have marked with an asterisk (*) those fanworks that I think work well without any knowledge of SPN.

Fanart

Contra's trueform!Cas art

Contra's take on Cas's trueform is inspired and incredibly cute. I love how he draws Cas as his usual nearly expressionless human vessel, but then has a very expressive trueform expanding like a giant cloud of wings and eyes around him.

Carolina's trueform!Cas art

Carolina's take on Cas's trueform is very abstract and intriguing. In the example I linked, the blue and tan and white of Jimmy Novak's iconic outfit spill out in a chaos of triangles and wings and animal heads from Jimmy's body as Cas possesses him, as well as the red burn of Cas's handprint on Dean.

Friendly Pigeon's Giant Castiel series*

Friendly Pigeon heard Castiel say that his true form was the size of the Chrysler Building and decided to take that to its logical fanart conclusion. This art beautifully communicates the awe-inspiring scale of a cosmic being like Cas.

angel-derangement's trueform!Cas art*

This fanartist draws Cas so different every time, and so WEIRD that I am honestly inspired. These trueforms are inspired by everything from the lighting aisle at a hardware store to Lisa Frank. Feast your eyes.

Long Fanfic (>50k)

Cruel Angels* by orphan (107k)

The ultimate in eldritch!Cas. This author delivered to me everything I wanted: Cas walking the earth in a giant, freaky, many-headed form that sends everybody but Dean screaming for the hills. The sheer power, scale, and alienness of Castiel in this fic is unparalleled, and yet he always tries so hard to do the right thing, in his endearing way.

Cinderwings* by bendingsignpost (182k)

The Cas in this Cinderella-ish AU is technically not as alien as in most of the fics on this list, in that he is a corporeal humanoid being who just happens to have ginormous wings, but the fic does a great job of portraying Cas and angels in general as very culturally distinct from humans - a lot of the drama of this fic comes from Cas operating from totally different first principles than humans do.

So Says the Sword* by komodobits (85k)

An AU(-ish? it's complicated) where Dean says yes to being Michael's vessel, and Castiel is assigned to guard him. Castiel and Dean are basically locked in a holodeck together, under terrible circumstances, and bond with each other while they wait for the apocalypse. The Castiel POV is beautiful, his true form scene is awe-inspiring, and the fic is so poetically written in general.

Medium Fanfic (10 - 50k)

Broadway Musical* by Griftings

An exceedingly silly AU that includes references to Jewish angel lore, angels having three animal heads as per the Book of Revelation, and Cas having previously possessed a dinosaur as a vessel. I love that Cas has an internal conversation going with Jimmy throughout the fic, a stream of petty arguments and useful tips for playing human, which emphasizes how Cas is not his vessel.

closer (isn't close enough) by fleeceframe

A finale fix-it in which Cas is now an archangel. While Cas is roughly humanoid in this fic, you still get the immensity and power of his true nature. In this fic, he heals trauma damage directly from Dean and Sam's brains, and designs a heaven for bees, which is just... such wholesome weird angel content.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day by awed_frog (31k)

The description of Cas's true form in this story was so poetic and beautiful I actually cried. This fic captures the concept of the sublime: the feeling you get in prayer or in contemplation of nature that you are very small and the universe is vast and frightening and breathtaking.

Short Fanfic (<10k)

Fata morgana. by orange_crushed (7k)

Castiel in hell, searching for Dean, from demon!Bela's point of view. I love how Bela's demon senses can see Cas's Grace fading and warping in hell. Cas is also just so hopelessly sweet amidst the bleakness of this story.

diamond star halo by jad (5k)

Castiel possessing Dean, from Sam POV. I love fic where Cas possesses other vessels than Jimmy, because it emphasizes that Cas is not his vessel - he is an incorporeal entity who needs help from humans to interact in the human world. Castiel!Dean in this story is just so weird and I love it.

Everyone is Trying to Get to the Bar by Balder12 (8k)

A very weird eldritch Cas made of blade-feathers and spinning wheels and tentacles, AND it's hurt/comfort! I'm such a sucker for fic where a monstrous/alien character is hurt and receives comfort, because monsters deserve love and care, too.

[vergess]

@frozenbluecookies reblogged your post and added:

So this whole post is Good but now I really want to know what’s going on with the dæmons in the show

For a start: they’re not there.

There’s actually a whole ass major plot point that establishes the entire climactic action of the first book which features the fact that a person’s daemon is missing. And people watching the show--including people who have read the books--have missed this very unsubtle point in the TV show, because everyone’s daemons are constantly just not present. I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but it’s when they introduce The Horrible Thing They Do To Children, by showing an adult to whom it has been done, and it’s remarked upon that it’s quite odd the way she doesn’t have her daemon there and doesn’t interact with it when it is present.

But that’s a useless thing to make a big deal out of when no one has their daemon around them for large portions of the show, and when daemons are on screen, they are often forgotten background details rather than necessary characters in their own rights.

Now, of course, there are immense budgetary constraints to trying to animate daemons. And I can see how, from a financial perspective, this decision was made. But the thing is, it fully crushes large amounts of the plot. That big prophecy about how Lyra will be The Betrayer? The person she betrays is her daemon, Pantalaimon, and because of the way daemons aren’t being integrated into the world build, their relationship is necessarily weaker.

But it’s not just the prophecy--the entire plot towards which Lyra is striving--that gets messed up by this. It’s also many plot beats along the way. For example, in the books, your daemon is the proof (to humans) that you are a sapient being. As such, it makes a lot of sense that a member of a fully sapient race, like the armoured bears, would become obsessed with having a daemon and being seen as Truly Alive by the human beings that dominate the planet. Lyra earns her name by taking advantage of this obsession and manipulating the ways it has destroyed the bear king’s sense of self.

Lyra earning her name is seriously undercut by this direction choice.

Indeed, a lot of character building is undercut by this. For example, without adequate establishment of how and why daemons settle, it’s much harder to recognize the foreshadowing of Mrs Coulter’s manipulative monkey, or of Asriel’s predatory snow leopard, unafraid to its her own young. Likewise, it’s going to be much harder to feel any impact when John and Will’s daemons are forcibly separated from their bodies, because well. It’s just a talky animal that sometimes is near you and sometimes isn’t. Constantly having people’s daemons just Not Be There undercuts the intense alienness of the witches, and makes them ladies who dress weird, rather than supernatural beings. It’s useless to consider the implications of the fact that some people hide their daemons--and thus hide their intentions--because no one’s daemon is there. How are you supposed to tell that Mrs Coulter’s daemon is alien, wrong, alarming in his expressionless stillness when almost every daemon that is shown is similarly stilted, inhuman?

Setting aside plot considerations themselves, there’s also the fact that many of the biggest emotional beats involve the unique constraints that daemons bring. Pantalaimon refusing to let Lyra do dangerous things by standing perfectly still and torturing them both as she tries to charge headstrong into fights. Lee’s endings (both of them), and the curious case of him being both intensely well adapted to his life (Hester being an Arctic Hare) and his utter refusal to conform to it in the same breath (Hester being permanently summer colored, both looking like an american jackrabbit and thereby unable to blend into the snow). The settling of Pantalaimon and Kirjava. At this point, I full expect them to cut Mary Malone’s daemon out of the series entirely, and thus cut the intensely powerful ending to her character arc (her synthesis of the mundane and the divine, her acceptance of the role of lucifer, the reframing of just what a gift lucifer was, mary was, to her once naive and now enlightened charges).

And I get it: animating photo-realistic animals that can talk is fucking hard. It’s expensive. You can’t afford to put them into crowd shots. It’s hard for actors to act around the CGI, so it’s hard to have intimate shots of them interacting with their humans.

But here’s the thing. We know how to get around all of that. The same way the stage performances always have.

First off, have crowd scenes feature an array of maybe 50 prop daemons that are repeated among extras. 25, even, as long as none of them are eye catchign enough to be immediately recognizeable. Two dozen prop animals is literally something an hobbyist toy collecter can manage, let alone such a big budget production. Secondly style.

Photo-realistic animals cannot emote, not in the way human beings can. We know this. We’ve known this for years. This is the exact reason why the “””live action””” Lion King movie is such a mess.

Animals especially cannot talk, their face shapes do not allow for mouth movements that read as language sounds instead of vauge mouth flaps. It is emphatically necessary to sacrifice realism for expression in a talking-animals piece. The puppets used by some of the daemons are not bad, so this cannot possibly all be blamed on over-reliance on CGI. What it is, is over-reliance on “realism” at the expense of emotional resonance, and generally botched artistic and effects direction. And worse, because of the refusal to stylize the daemons away from absolute realism, the situations where they are forced to make daemons do something real life animals can’t are just unpleasant and unsettling to look at. 

So, they sacrifice daemons doing anything at all.

It’s hard to realize how weird Stelmaria and Ozymandias’s relative silence is, when most daemons don’t talk because their faces distort weirdly when they try.

I’m becoming repetitive here, but it’s just so, so, so annoying. I’ve waited decades for HDM to get an adaptation that wasn’t constrained by the short run times of a stage play or the censorial oversight of a film studio marketing it as a Disney-like fantasy.

And it’s good! Don’t get me wrong, it is good.

But I’ve had to really, really, really change my mindset to approach it.

[movedyourchair505]

Napule Nights - venti 

More smut ahead! Elana said that this is her favourite chapter yet, so I am kind of excited. Also, there are some brilliant lines from her and I wouldn’t be able to do it without her!! xx

- chapter navigation -

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In the room full of suits, their authority tinted by the half-unbuttoned shirts, gold chains and stubbled skin, Turner's confidence and power were still effortlessly superior. He allowed only a drink of which Cook had personally supervised the mixing, for both Jade and him, then without a second thought draped his arm between her back and the rest of her chair, his hand placed firmly on her hip.

As appealing as he'd been in need of a nudge to feel like himself again, he was now simply irresistible. The way she'd made him moan, had gotten him to lose himself, it turned her on to no avail and while from the beginning she'd been aware that he was not going to return any sort of pleasure in the car, she wished desperately that he had as she found herself sat beside him with her neck reddening slightly, a dull throbbing between her legs, empty, longing, begging for him to stretch her, and she knew there was nothing she could do about it now, except watch him, keep her eyes on him while also par his instruction watch everybody else.

She tried to focused on the latter, knowing that her desire would only get worse if she watched Turner himself for too long, the way his fingers tapped impatiently on the surface of the table in front of them, how he stretched his jaw the way he also did when he tried to suck in a moan, the way he scratched at his jaw when he was contradicting himself by trying too hard to appear nonchalant.

He'd taken his shades off now, had dropped them into the top pocket of his suit jacket and his dark eyes threatened to bring her to her knees each time his gaze wandered to meet hers. Every single time his fingers moved, she couldn't look away, imagined shamelessly how they would feel inside her again, remembered the way his palm collided with her red skin, almost moaning at merely the recollection of the pleasure he'd evoked inside her. She needed more, almost didn't notice how she shifted closer to him, dared even to place her hand on his shoulder.

To her surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, cocky, pleased with himself and the situation. He was no longer worried, in his element of intimidation and indifference, and it was undeniably and would remain to be the sexiest thing about him.

“D'yeh realleh fink weh're gunna settle for tha'? Two familehs tha' I kno' of 'ave turned their backs on meh, wha's gunna lead meh teh blindleh trust aneh of yeh wifout proof?” His eyes wandered across the room, the different representatives of other families and businesses all glaring back at him, some irritated, some offended, but Turner remained unimpressed.

He was focused mainly on the faces of the other men at the table, but the way Jade shifted closer to him with every passing second, surrounding him with her rich perfume, the warmth of her hand and the awareness that he had complete power over not only the situation around him but also her, it kept him from focusing solely on business.

“Turner, we've been your allies since you were a boy. Your father trusts us.”

Alex's eyes snapped up. “I'm in charge.” If his father had taught him anything, it was to despite the higher positions above one, to always assert oneself as the dominant force. He wanted him to learn the ways of the business after all, having given him enough freedom to establish himself before he truly would be the reigning Turner.

“Your ego is hindering your sense of trust and loyalty.”

His gaze darkened as the man raised his voice at him again and he swallowed hard, taking a sip of his drink, then fishing out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, giving a tilt of his head and a nod to Jade as he held it between his lips.

Jade had been watching him closely, her eyes darting back and forth between him and the other man and she picked up the lighter quickly, lighting the cigarette for him and observed him as he blew the smoke towards the ceiling without unlocking eyes with the man across the table.

“Are yeh realleh in a position teh evaluate me character?”

“Turner.” Another man spoke up now, shifting forward. “You cannot mistrust all your allies. I've always been loyal to you and your family, but this paranoia is going to drive others away. And it is going to drive them right into Alfonso's arms.”

The first sceptic that had questioned him originally nodded. “With what he's offering, it would be worth more than this alliance with you, Turner.”

The chatter of the women in the background, the sounds of glasses, the slurping, the shifting all stopped. The thick silence rose to its peak, slowly but gradually, no one spoke a word. It'd been merely a matter of time until someone would dare to voice the provocation that Alex had been dreading. Mostly, the meeting had gone smoothly, but no one had made an effort to prove their loyalty and he was aware that most of them viewed his demand as an insult, nothing more and nothing less and while he understood that, he demanded the same understanding extended to him in return. Not receiving it meant a lack of proof for which most families were too proud, and those who could simply not give proof were bound to challenge him publicly.

Jade could tell that Alexander's blood was coiling under the surface, noticed the deep breaths he secretly tried to calm himself down with and she squeezed his shoulder, shifted closer to him and brought her fingers up slowly to the back of his neck and into his hair, not prepared for the way his whole body relaxed as a result of the touch, the tension eased immensely, his voice coming out much calmer than expected, easing her as well, not only because she knew he was calmer, but also because he wasn't stopping her, instead tilting his head back slightly towards the gentle touch of her hand. She had the power to relax him at the tips of her fingers now, and he wasn't even fighting it.

“I fink integriteh is worf more than moneh.”

The ease and silent dominance with which he carried himself always had her weak, but now that he allowed her to be so close, admitted physically that she was able to help him through his unfiltered reactions, she was getting more and more needy, found it increasingly harder to keep her hands off him so she stood up, Cook instantly with her as she headed for the bar.

Alexander needed to focus, and so did she because after all, she was also supposed to observe the other participants of the meeting so she attempted to clear her head as the liquor drizzled into her glass and she took a sip, looking over her shoulder to see Alexander now leaning forward with his elbows on the surface of the table, glaring at everyone inquisitively. She knew that if that intimidation didn't cut it, he'd find another way. He was focused now and she stayed behind him until she could sense that his head was itching slightly to turn and see where she was and why she was taking so long so she crossed the distance between them with a few quick steps, her heels clicking on the floor and he leaned back in his chair again as she was by his side, about to sit down beside him when he pushed his knee slightly to the side and gave the hint of a nod, his hand already on her hip and guiding her down to sit on his thigh.

Her heart skipped a beat and she took another sip of her drink, adjusted the way she was sitting with both her legs between his, now also eyeing the other men at the table again, her arm draped loosely across his shoulders for leverage, fingers instantly finding their way into his hair again, all her efforts of trying to clear her head going up in smoke when she saw the hard expression on his face, despite the relaxation spreading in his body and she was insanely proud of herself that she was giving him the confidence and eased him enough to face the situation professionally despite the meeting not seeming to go anywhere, they were going in circles.

“Yeh're gunna 'ave teh show meh summat so I kno' yeh're credible” Alex stated definitively and gave a shrug.

The first man's eyes wandered across the table, he parted his lips, then closed them again when no one seemed to be on his side, his mouth pulling up into a bitter smile. “We're not gonna be all over your dick like your bird here, Turner.”

Jade froze, her cheeks flushed darkly as she realised the man had addressed her, instantly worried when she felt Turner tense up again under her, tensing herself with the fear of having fucked up again when things had seemed to go so well and she withdrew her fingers from his hair, trying to prepare herself for his reaction, for the humiliation she would have to face in front of everyone.

Alex's face was expressionless for a few seconds, the silence had spread around the table once again and he blinked, took a breath, then blinked again, turning to look at Jade. “No, dun't yeh stop, pupa” he said, his voice so much gentler than she ever could've hoped for, her heart beating faster at the roughness that laced his tone and the words that followed. “Dun't let sum fookin' unimportant nobodeh tell yeh wha' teh do.”

She swallowed, breathed out shakily and brought her hand back up into his hair, watching his every move when he turned to look back at the man after taking his time with her first, cutting him off instantly when he attempted to speak.

“Turner, what did you just ca-...”

“Are yeh fookin' serious?” Alex drawled. “Weh're 'avin' a fookin' meetin' and yeh're payin' attention to me bird?”

The guy raised his eyebrows. “You want our respect and our loyalty and this is how you talk to me? You might be able to talk to her like that, but...”

“Enough” he stated firmly, his fingers clenched into a fist on the table top. “Yeh're in no fookin' position teh talk teh meh like that.”

“Well, I wouldn't be paying attention to her if you hadn't given her something to drool all over you.”

Jade followed their back and forth, felt more and more conflicted but went along with Alexander's words, trying to focus on him instead of the other man, his words now harsh as he responded, nearing the brink of snapping and dismissing this whole meeting himself.

“Why dun't yeh worreh 'bout yehr own bird, eh, Rocco? At least I'm gettin' sum attention.” He tilted his head slightly, continuing before Rocco could respond, fuelled by that calm, familiar anger, his voice steady, clear of any amusement because he was not to be questioned right now. “And 'ow's yehr bird doin' anehwehs, eh? Livin' in tha' chic new apartment uptown?”

A shift, a click, and before anyone else could move a muscle, there was a gun pointed at him over the table, straightforward and steady, yet failing to evoke as much as even a flinch.

“Did you just threaten my girl, Turner?” The man's voice was shaking, his lip quivering more when he realised Alex remained unimpressed and both Matt and Jamie stepped on either of Alex's side's, Jade's hand in her bag instantly, drawing her own gun that Cook had given her upon getting her from her suite.

Alex shifted. “Let's settle this like gentlemen, shall weh?” He asked, his voice calm. “Weh dun't wanna point a gun at somebodeh wif a woman in the middle.”

As if settling the issue with merely that statement, he turned his head and lowered Jade's arm with his fingers closing around her wrist, now wanting to make sure that she was okay because the gun was as much pointed at her as it was at him. “Look at meh, doll.”

Jade swallowed, the certainty and calm he was expressing contagious, washing over her enough to relax and put her gun away, eased by the way he was checking on her now. She was attracted to him now more than at any point during the meeting, couldn't believe that he'd just defended her and shut down the meeting because of a comment about her – even if it'd been an excuse -  and she slowly got up when he nudged her leg, following him out dutifully without looking back, Cook in front of Alexander and Helders behind her, guns drawn each, escorting them out without another word uttered. Instead, people started to slowly follow behind them, one by one.

Turner gestured for Cook and Helders to get back into the front of the car after the latter had opened the door for Jade and she'd climbed inside, leaning back only when Turner was beside her and the car door shut and they were well on their way.

She took a breath, her heartbeat still faster than usual and she dared not to look at Turner, afraid that his mood despite all would still shift now that they were alone. “You didn't have to defend me back there” she mumbled.

“Well” he chuckled, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, his whole posture more relaxed again and he turned his head, caught her gaze and held it effortlessly. “Onleh I get teh point out 'ow fookin' needeh yeh get for meh. Even if 'e 'ad a point.”

She swallowed, licking her lips.

“Yeh didn't 'ave teh draw yehr gun teh defend me.” He smirked. “I pay ofer people to do tha'.”

“I-It was instinct.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and decided to let her get away with it because after all, there was nothing he could possibly complain about, she'd made him feel and look as superior as he needed, had made him proud that in front of everyone she'd showed how much she wanted him. “Yeh did a good job back there, though” he stated. “Made meh look good.”

The look in his eyes was intense, increasing the difficulty of holding it for her, but she attempted to anyway, despite the desire she had for him, mixed with the fear evoked from someone having pointed a gun at them both only a minute before.

“Good actin', Jade.”

The amusement on his face had her wanting to do something, anything to wipe that cocky smirk from his face but at the same time, she liked it too much, that expression of satisfaction, the suggestion that he already knew what was to come, was so sure of himself and just still had her wrapped around his little finger with ease, especially with the praise he offered now as if it was nothing special.

“I wasn't acting.”

He scratched his jaw, his eyes still locked on hers. “I kno'. And I kno' wha' yeh wanted earlier, doll” he stated. “And yeh deserve it now. Deserve a fookin' reward.”

Jade sucked in a breath, bit her lip, still conflicted, still unsure of what she was dealing with. “What?”

“Yeh've been so patient...” he drawled, his voice lower now as he shifted closer to her. “I'm gunna fook yeh so good, Jade.”

Her breath got caught in her throat as he moved towards her slowly and she shuffled backwards until she felt her back meet the door and there he was, his faces mere inches from hers, his hands coming down on either side of her and trapping her, had her cornered now without even touching her.

She gasped, the way he'd caught her by surprise fuelling him and he shoved her dress up effortlessly, her legs spreading apart for him without him having to say, without her even realising the instinctive response her body had to him basically on top of her, the way he was slowly starting to touch her through her underwear while simultaneously holding her gaze too much and her lips parted reluctantly, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he finally touched her.

“Oh, fookin'ell” he drawled, chuckling darkly. “Yeh've realleh been patient...”

She whimpered when his fingers pushed her thong to the side, wasting no time forcing them inside her, her dripping heat welcoming them and her hand came down on his shoulder to gather some sort of leverage, freezing for a moment when she realised what she'd done but he just pressed his forehead against hers, staring her down as she slowly but surely submitted to him once more, unable to resist the way he pushed all her buttons just right.

She was overwhelmed with the shift in his behaviour, welcomed it but nonetheless did not know how to come to terms with it, still tense that he would mock her for how wet she was at any moment, draw his fingers out of her and push her to her knees, barking at her to suck him off until she deserved for him to even think about touching her and she tried to shut out those worries even though it went against all the precautions she usually took pride in. She needed to enjoy this while it lasted, whimpering obscenely when he curled his fingers inside her, his rough fingertips brushing right into the spongy spot that made her see stars and her hips automatically bucked up, her eyes begging him silently for more.

“Yeh fookin' droolin', doll?” He drawled, his hand grabbing her chin to make sure she kept her eyes on him as he lazily started fingering her, watching her chest rise and fall quickly. “D'yeh need me cock in yehr mouf teh keep yeh occupied now?”

She gasped, licked her lips but her mouth was far from dry and she shook her head. “I-I...”

He smirked. “Mmmm, I kno', Jade, I am gunna fook yeh...”

And just like that his fingers were gone, left her empty and leaking on the seat, desperate to be filled and he lost no time undoing his belt buckle, forced her legs apart with his hand sprawled firmly across her inner thigh.

“I kno' 'ow bad yeh need it.”

He was intoxicating, the deep drawl of his voice, the cloud of smoke and perfume and expensive liquor, she couldn't help herself. “P-Please.”

“Ask meh again” he demanded, shifting to position his cock against her entrance, enjoying the way she shuddered immensely as he rubbed his tip against her folds, could practically taste the way she was going to stretch and flutter around him once he forced himself inside her, would make her walls burn with the sudden friction. But he needed to hear her first.

It was too good to be true, he was going to tease her out of her mind and she already knew she wasn't going to be able to take it, watching him all night, having him fuck her mouth and giving her a reaction that made her feel like she was invincible, and now she was so close to having what she wanted and he would just dangle it in front of her face, hypnotise her, then deny her, but she still couldn't stop herself from trying. “Alexander, please...” she whimpered, desperately trying to buck her hips up but he had her legs locked securely in place, one pressed against the backseat, the other held to the side.

He stretched his jaw, blinked and licked his lips and she was just about to lose hope when his hips slowly pushed forward, agonisingly slow but her grip tightened on his shoulder, her eyes falling shut for a mere moment but she forced them open again quickly, knowing it would do her no good if she disobeyed him, even though they were demands from previous times.

His cock was hard, throbbing and filled her so tightly, the friction almost too much to handle and it brought tears to her eyes, the intense feeling of him drawing his hips back only to slam them right back inside her enough to take her breath away, especially with his eyes locked on hers like he hadn't before, merely in the mirror but this was different, she had his full attention and she knew she'd have to take advantage of it, study his features and their every move, the way he barely blinked to not miss a single thing she did either, the way his jaw stretched and his adam's apple bobbed in his throat, his nose scrunched up from the effort he was putting in to not be too loud, too obvious.

And then he started moving properly, the slow tease morphing into a fast back and forth of his hips snapping, his cock pushing inside her, then pulling out, denying her, then burying himself inside her again with abrupt movements, making her whimper and rock back every time and she couldn't believe the bliss he allowed her now.

“A-Alexander...” she whimpered, her breath hitching in her throat.

He chuckled darkly, biting his lip. The sounds falling from her lips were gorgeous, his name rolling off her tongue so beautifully, it was as satisfying as ever, but more than he ever could have asked for combined with how wide and desperate her eyes were while he drove himself inside her repeatedly, taking complete ownership of her body.

“Yes, Jade?” He asked, the cocky smirk still plastered across his flawless features.

“Thank you” she whimpered and he could see the salty traces pearling down her cheeks. “T-Thank you so much...”

His heart felt heavy as he saw just how much he'd overwhelmed her. “Dun't need teh fank meh, doll” he drawled. “Pleasure's all fookin' mine.”

He punctuated his words with another hard thrust of his hips, his hand closing over her breast and squeezing it roughly. She would be bruised and as sore as she'd asked to be again the next day.

She could barely move with the way he had her pinned into he corner of the backseat, had no other choice than to gratefully take what he was giving her and she whimpered for more with each thrust of his hips, each time their bodies collided and he filled her, made her squeeze his cock and sent shivers up her spine with how good he felt, making her feel nothing but the burning pleasure she always missed afterward. She couldn't think straight.

“Yeh're alreadeh shakin', principessa” he hummed. There was sweat forming at his collarbones, just above his chain and he was starting to breathe heavily, just indulging in her, getting lost in her moans and soft cries of lust. “Few fookin' strokes and yeh're alreadeh shakin'...”

She nodded eagerly, was ready to give him whatever he needed, admitting to just how badly she wanted him, how desperate she was, not even embarrassed anymore. “T-Thank you...” she cried again, noticing only now the lack of control she had over even what rushed out of her mouth.

Turner smirked. “Tha' good, huh?”

“S-So good...” she purred as his cock drove inside her again, hard and merciless, and she still wanted more, wanted it to hurt, her head repeatedly knocking lightly against the window. “Your cock is so big...”

“I kno', and yeh're takin it so fookin' well...” he groaned, reveling in the sounds of her cries. “Tell meh yeh're mine, doll...”

Without missing a beat she obeyed, hoping he would just fuck her harder. “A-All yours, I'm all yours, Alexander...” she whined. “Your good little slut...”

His grip loosened and he slowed down, drawing halfway out of her and he dragged his hand up to her throat, fingers closing slowly around it, his eyes growing wide. “No, no, doll, shhh...”

She gasped, tensing and instantly regretting saying anything, worried that she'd fucked it all up now. “W-What?”

“Dun't wanna 'ear tha' again...” Alexander said, now regretting saying it before, hating the way she was degrading herself for him, especially because it was by repeating his own words back to him. He shook his head. “No girl o' mine's a fookin' slut...”

It took her dizzy mind a few seconds to comprehend his words and she breathed out shakily in surprise. “S-Say that again?” She begged, unable to help herself, the words just rushing out.

He laughed. “Girl o' mine?” He drawled. “Tha's the bit yeh wanna 'ear again, dun't yeh?”

She couldn't believe it, rendered speechless and whimpered, opening her mouth but closing it again. There was nothing she could possibly say, her eyes wide as he pushed inside her again, hard and deep and she nearly came right there and then.

“I kno' yeh're gaggin' for me validation, aren't yeh, doll? Are yeh cummin' for meh alreadeh?”

She moaned desperately, her body tense. “N-Not without your permission...”

He hummed appreciatively, increasing his speed again. “I can fookin' tell yeh're 'oldin' on...” he drawled. “Fookin' cryin', are yeh?”

Her breath shallow, she was trying to keep up with him, with his thrusts and with his words, but he just had complete control of her, made it impossible to think. “I-I'm sorry...”

“Tzz, no, pupa, dun't apologize...” he chuckled, cocky and irresistible. “Got a big fookin' cock inside yeh, Jade, givin' yehr cunt a proper fook, yeh're supposed teh cry me name...”

“F-Fuck...” she muttered, unable to come up with anything witty to respond, allowing him to carry out his cockiness like the smug bastard he was.

“Tell meh nobodeh's fooked yeh like this before” he grunted, slowly losing control, his mind now clouded with lust and he wasn't far from letting go either.

“F-Fuck, Alexander, no one does it better” she cried, choking out the words as she struggled to breathe evenly with him driving his cock into her faster and faster, his hand around her throat. She was so close, the burning becoming unbearable, the pleasure in the pit of her stomach threatening to spill and spread all over her body the way she was aching for.

“D'yeh want teh cum for meh, principessa?”

He buried himself deep inside her and she was unable to respond as he sent her over the edge despite all her efforts, the pleasure ripping through her, her body shaking violently and she cried out pathetically as she came around his cock, her walls squeezing him, her nails digging into his shoulder, the tight burn between her legs so satisfying, so delicious, her bliss only tinted by the fear of disappointing him but instead of mocking her or pushing her away he wrapped his arm around her, pulled her backwards to sit on his thighs and reached around her, held her down securely with his arms locked around her body to restrict any possible movement, making her shudder when despite her sensitivity, his calloused fingertips came down on her clit, starting to rub it lazily, enjoying the way she was writhing in his lap, gasping for air, her legs pressed to the outsides of his thigh.

His cock felt even bigger that way and she could barely handle the sudden pleasure he was adding to her already spent body, made her whimper and shake under his tight grip, desperate for something to hold onto.

“D'yeh want another, doll?” He drawled, his voice calm, nonchalant, but she could feel his breath, shallow against the back of her neck.

She was confused, but most of all desperate, overwhelmed with everything he was suddenly giving her.

“Tell meh. Tell meh, doll and I promise yeh're gunna get it.”

She was now worried he was just mocking her, would build her up just to get off on it when he would orgasm himself and his cock felt so big inside her, throbbing and making her walls clench and flutter and making her body shake with pleasure without him even having to move. “I-I want another” she cried, now that he'd given her a taste she was desperate for another release, felt her skin starting to get sticky with sweat, her dress brushing uncomfortably against her front. “Alexander, please...”

“Greedeh fookin' girl...” he drawled, starting to move his fingers faster, merciless with how fast he quickly he flicked her clit, fuelled by her begging and she gasped, fingers now gripping his arm as she was desperate for leverage. “If yeh're gunna cum again, it's gunna beh at me command...”

He now looked to reinstate his dominance, wanting to demonstrate that despite his favours and little praises, he still owned her, still had the upper hand.

“P-Please...” she whispered, goosebumps lacing her skin with the way his deep voice was so close to her ear and she was getting wetter and wetter with every word he said, with every flick of his rough fingertips and he pressed them down hard, making her shake, her knees weak.

“Didn't 'ear yeh...”

“Please” she cried louder, indifferent to who would hear. “A-Alexan-...”

He couldn't hold on, her cries and her struggling under his grip too much and he bucked his hips up inside her, buried himself deep and his cock twitched, his release coating her walls. “C-Cum for meh...” he grunted, breathing heavily against the back of her neck, his arms tightening around her as he rocked his hips up slowly to ride out his orgasm, reveling in the afterglow and the way she moaned so loudly, would have put any pornstar to shame.

She was panting out her release, shivering from how good his cock felt pulsing inside her, proud that it was all thanks to her even though he'd merely played with her again without even letting her do anything – ironically even with her sitting in his lap – but she told herself that she'd done something right with how he treated her, completely content and so confident that she dared to turn around and look at him, the way his neck was flushed, his forehead shiny and his hair falling into his eyes more than satisfactory.

She reached out absently to stroke it back, a tear on her heart when she felt him once again lean into the touch and his eyes fluttered shut for a split second.

Alex had to remind himself where he was, who he was and to snap out of that moment of weakness, so starved of something soft that her gentle touch had him needy and instinctively leaning into it but then he forced his eyes open again, locked her eyes with that infamous gaze of authority to reshape the nature of the situation.

She laughed quietly, looking down and turning to face away from him again, pressing her lips together as she tried to save that moment for later, the way he'd just given in and even though it had been for merely a second, she was never going to forget about it.

“Fookin' gorgeous...” he muttered, lifting her from his lap and making her whimper before she could respond to his utterance that was a mere product of how much he adored seeing her laugh again, especially with tear-stained cheeks and her skin flushed with heat and he helped her almost automatically to adjust her sitting position, gave her enough space to fix her dress while closing his own belt after tucking himself back in.

The car had stopped now and Alex contemplated for a moment if he should take her home with him, just tell the driver to keep going but there was no way he could allow himself to go that far, there was no way to justify it, despite it all and before he could come to a decision, the door was pulled open, Cook looking expectantly at her and she shuffled out, her legs like jelly but she attempted to be as graceful as possible, thankful for Cook's hand extended to her that she could grab, despite the hint of amusement on his face that had probably prompted the gesture.

But she was so overwhelmed with everything that she couldn't even think about anything of what had happened outside their bubble of sweat and moans and bliss.

Alex watched her get out of the car, his eyes shamelessly glued to her backside and he already missed her, swallowing when the car door fell shut and he couldn't hear the clicking of her heels anymore, merely watched Cook escort her to the doors, hearing the engine roar and flinching.

“Fookin' wait” he barked at the driver, his fingers clenching into fists, jolting back into his seat at the sudden halt, eyes still fixed on the two figures approaching the doors, Cook opening them and she stepped inside, doors closing behind her and only then Alex leaned back in his seat and breathed out. “Okeh, fookin' go.”

[acediian]

—𝓉𝑜𝓋𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉 (𝒾𝒾𝒾.)

thanos x original character fanfiction  |  pre-infinity war  |  2.3k words +

a/n: several thousand words in and - finally - enter purple hubby-to-be!!! hope you enjoy c:

chapters  i.  ii.  iii. 

Aerendis closed her eyes, lips parting to breathe in the soft breeze that swept over the hill and through her hair. Her steed, a majestic Tovari Faraax, shifted underneath her, its broad, paw-like feet padding loudly against the silvery grass. Fingers moved gently through the creature’s soft mop of grey fur, feeling the warmth of its body and the ebbing motion of its slow breaths.

“Cassiopeia, it’s alright,” she cooed to the beast, which responded with a hearty grunt. But as her eyes turned upward to once again regard the great warship hovering above Tovarion’s capital city, her words turned acrid in her mouth.

The Faraax shifted again, turning its large, deer-like head towards her. Those eyes, dark as midnight, conveyed their usual kindness, but disclosed something else as well. Worry. The princess was akin to a mother, having hand-reared and cared directly for the creature since its birth many centuries ago. The two shared a certain bond, so undoubtedly it sensed her own trepidation.

“It will be alright.”

From astride the Faraax’s large back, Aerendis could behold the valley in its entirety. The smoke rising out of chimneys in the city streets. The people, appearing as small as grains of rice from their place atop the hill. Ship after ship whizzed past, converging on the palace, where hordes of foreign soldiers stood toe-to-toe with the guards that protected the queen.

Aerendis knew. He was already there. She was out of time.

Tugging at her Faraax’s reigns, she breathed in the cool morning air one last time. “Come on, girl.” The creature took off, its muscular, elongated legs carrying them both across the grass at tremendous speed.

---

“Where is your sister?” Queen Aredhyn asked under her breath, a furrowed brow meeting her son’s gaze.

“I do not know,” Erodhil replied, leaning down to whisper into his mother’s ear as she sat, awaiting their guest’s imminent arrival. “I have not seen her all morning.”

The princess’ absence did not sit well with the queen. She never knew Aerendis to be tardy, least of all on such a significant occasion as this. But there was no time to send someone after her, and no one to spare.

Every guard in the palace and every soldier from all corners of Tovarion had been called to the capital city. None ignored their queen’s request. Fighters encircled the throne, stood watch outside of the palace, and lined every street in the city - and yet, it became clear quickly enough that they were far outnumbered by the Mad Titan’s forces. Not only were there hordes of ghastly footsoldiers, but also countless numbers of flying beasts and other ships at his command. And all waited for the signal to attack should his demands go unmet.

The queen sat motionless, expressionless, in waiting. On the outside, she was the embodiment of a strong leader, an adept warrior. Her dark hair, intricately plaited away from her face and flecked with grey streaks, revealed the silvery-white skin that bore lines of age. Her silver armor, gleamed in the morning light that flooded into the hall from above.

Only her son could see the turmoil boiling underneath. White knuckles grasped the armrest of her throne. Her eyes watched everything, yet seemed to see nothing.

Aredhyn breathed in sharply as a figure appeared in the doorway to the throne room. A broad silhouette gave way to a tall figure cloaked in golden armor. The Mad Titan, as promised. Four other figures soon followed behind him, two of which the queen recognized from just two days prior. They approached the throne with haste, stopping just shy of the guards they so easily towered over.

There were no niceties, no formality shown before the queen of Tovarion. Not even so much as a bow. She prickled at the heavy silence that followed, lips downturned as she looked her guest up and down.

“Welcome to Tovarion, Thanos of Titan.” Her attempt at a smile came off as more of a grimace.

The Mad Titan glanced around the throne room with incredulity before meeting the queen’s gaze from underneath his helm. “Your people have an interesting way of welcoming guests, your highness.”

Aredhyn didn’t much care for his mockery. Her hand balled into a fist against the cold stone beneath her arm. Still, she remembered the warship hovering just over the city and bit her tongue.

With a passing smirk, Thanos began to pace in front of the queen’s guard, formidable fighters who now looked so puny in comparison. He towered over each one by nearly two feet. As he walked, each one tightened their grasp on their weapon. Honorable, the queen knew, but it would be folly should this meeting end badly.

“I don’t see the power stone.” He turned to the skulking creature from before. “Was the Maw not clear enough when communicating my expectations?”

“He was perfectly clear,” the queen replied, her jaw tightening. “But it is safe... in the vault.”

Thanos’ calm, calculated expression faltered for a moment. His scowl fell away just as quickly, but his displeasure was all too evident. “I have given you a choice, your highness. Out of my own generosity, I offered to spare your world in exchange for the stone.” The Titan’s gaze pierced into hers, is voice lowering to a more threatening tone. “It would take… seconds… to wipe your ancient culture from the cosmos and I would still pluck the stone from the rubble.”

Queen Aredhyn raised a hand, unwilling to indulge him any longer. “You will have the stone, Thanos of Titan. Do not waste any more breath threatening me and my people.”

“Your people,” he repeated, now with a glint in his eye. “I know the Maw conveyed the other half of my demands.”

“In so many words, yes. He did.” Aredhyn rose from her throne, moving down a few of the glimmering steps. Her pale grey eyes never left those of the Mad Titan. In her daughter’s absence, her following statement would carry far less weight. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears amidst the utter silence in the throne room. “I have consulted my Council. Prayed to our gods.” She turned to the prince. “Consulted my children. We cannot ally by giving you Tovarion’s armies.”

Thanos’ expression soured. “That is unfortunate.”

“We cannot eschew our existing alliances by supplying soldiers to their enemies. On my honor, I will not break faith with millennia-old allies.”

“You are just that, your highness. Honorable. But tell me - will honor save you? Will your gods save you?”

“Spare me,” the queen mused, staring down her nose at him from where she stood, bathed in sunlight on the steps to her throne.

“Tovarion is one of the universe’s very few remaining ancient civilizations. I have given you the opportunity to save it. An opportunity I only extend to you one last time.”

Aredhyn threw a passing glance at her son before continuing. “We have another offer.” She watched as the Titan’s brow creased in surprise and interest. “One that we hope you will consider.”

The Mad Titan heaved a sigh - the queen could only hope that he would indulge her for a few moments more. “Go on.”

But as she drew in a breath, a commotion just outside the throne room doors caused the queen to pause before sharing their proposal. It was a moment of immense confusion - the Mad Titan’s forces all turned, weapons drawn, to face what they believed was an approaching threat. But the queen’s guard were quick to react, preparing to counter the opposing forces.

“Make way!” a voice called from the rampart outside. “Make way for the princess.”

Aredhyn sighed in relief for more than one reason, loosening her grip on her own sword. “Stand down! Stand down, all of you!” she called to her own soldiers. “Have your men stand down, Thanos of Titan. It is only my daughter.”

The energy in the room quickly dissipated as a new figure appeared in the colossal doorway. The silhouette of a Faraax came lumbering in, its short, floppy ears swaying with each step. As it moved closer, the Mad Titan’s forces parted to let it pass. Until the creature dipped its head, no one would have expected it to be carrying a rider. But in its saddle sat the princess, hair windswept and overcoat draped elegantly across its back.

Aerendis sat proudly astride her steed, her torso moving back and forth with each one of its strides. The Faraax vocalized confusedly at the strange creatures that flanked it on either side, which elicited a soft hush from the princess’ lips. After the long walk to the throne, the creature’s feet thudded to a stop just before the Mad Titan himself, who seemed utterly unfazed. From where she sat, more than twelve feet above the ground, Aerendis looked down to meet his gaze.

Whatever she had expected him to look like, this was not it. Even do, he had the appearance of a conqueror, no doubt, with his intricate golden armor, broad frame, and formidable stature. She would have to get accustomed to the sight of him should he accept their offer and spare Tovarion from the fate of so many worlds before it.

The Faraax knelt to give the princess an easier dismount, grunting once again as it beheld the strange being before it. Aerendis’ hand patted her steed’s side as she passed, briefly meeting the gaze of her potential betrothed once more before approaching her mother.

“I apologize for the delay, Ama,” she said, bowing before her queen. Her voice lowered. “Tovarion still stands.”

Aredhyn reached out to take her daughter’s hands, her own shoulders relaxing in relief at the mere sight of her. “For now,” she uttered in their mother tongue. The pair touched foreheads, a usual greeting among Tovari who were very close.

Aerendis glanced over her shoulder at the Mad Titan, still standing impatiently on the other side of the guards. “You command quite the army. I would say you outnumber us... ten to one? And I am sure there are forces still aboard your ship.”

“Forces that will answer my call at a moment’s notice.”

“Yes, I am sure.” She was truly her mother’s daughter, choosing to ignore his threats and simply continue as she began to pace back and forth. “We have but a few thousand elite fighters at our own call. Tovarion has not needed a great army since -” With a tsk, she looked to her mother and shrugged. “- oh, the time of my great great grandmother, I believe?”

Thanos’ eyes narrowed. She knew he was already aware of what she would say next.

“Our army would not add much in the end, I am afraid. You are already so well equipped.” A sleepless night had given way to a wave of arguments against supplying their soldiers to the Mad Titan’s army. Arguments that now came spilling forth. In a way, she was delaying their final proposal. Now that the moment was here, the words did not seem to want to leave her lips. “And, of course, pledging our best fighters to your cause would leave us defenseless. What sort of an alliance is it if your allies should bear the brunt of an attack - from, say, other allies who are displeased with our support of your cause - with no means of protecting themselves?”

Before he could interject, she continued.

“That is a short-lived alliance, indeed.” All her nerves caught in her throat suddenly, choking the very air form her lungs. There was so much sorrow in the thought of the Mad Titan refusing their offer, which would bring the prompt decimation of her people. The thought of him accepting elicited immense trepidation of its own. But she was assured in her faith that the gods had laid a path for her millennia ago, and she was ready to take it if this was the way.

“Alliances need not be between armies,” she went on, turning fully to face the Titan. “If you wish for a lasting alliance with Tovarion, then you should do so through marriage.” Her words clearly caught even him off guard. Aerendis watched as his brow lifted in surprise. “In exchange for the lives of my people, I extend my hand… to you. I will go with you as not only a… wife, but also as an envoy of the Tovari people. You will have the stone you seek as well as any resources, weapons, and armor that you require.”

“I have no need of a princess on my ship,” he retorted.

The queen was quick to step in. “Aerendis has not seen war herself, but she is an adept fighter and even more effective diplomat. She has handled our affairs with other worlds for more than a thousand years. I trust you could benefit from her presence.”

“You give yourself away for the sake of your people,” Thanos addressed the princess, who showed no signs of fear in her steely exterior. “A noble sentiment.”

“Thank you. I have meant every word.”

“I do not doubt it.” A long, slow breath left him. “Very well, princess. Your people can rest easy tonight.”

It was as though Aerendis could breathe once again, yet that same fear as before came over her all the same. Arranged marriages (or whatever one called such a situation as this) were unheard of on Tovarion. As a girl, she had hoped to one day fall in love with the one that she would spend her fifteen thousand years with. She had hoped for a marriage as loving as the one that her parents had shared. Those hopes were dashed. But, she reminded herself, her people were safe. They were safe. Perhaps this was what the gods had intended for her, after all.

“Your generosity is much appreciated,” Aerendis replied, meeting the pale blue of his eyes with the soft grey of her own. “Thanos.”

[rosesisupposes]

Destined, part 18

aka Dante’s Inferno

Character Tags: Virgil/Anixety ; Patton/Creativity ; Patton/Morality ; Logan/Logic ; Remy/Sleep ; Dante/Deceit

Chapter Pairings: one-sided Loceit

Chapter Warnings: TW FOR ABUSE and child abuse, Villainous Deceit, Sympathetic-ish Deceit, cigarettes/smoking

Reader Tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @fellowthomassandersfander @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt

Summary: After centuries of acting as an oracle to heroes, quest-seekers, and villains alike, Virgil just wants to live as a normal, modern human. For someone who can see infinite probabilities, you’d think he’d know better.

<<Chapter 17 | Masterlist | Chapter 19>>

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Everything was working out according to plan.

Dante had been nervous that the Sage would follow him, or try to interfere, but he hadn’t even sensed him again since his divining. At least the man’s ridiculous notion of giving up on magic was good for something.

Dante had been so hopeful - him, of all people, hopeful - that a Sage of all beings would understand. He’d barely believed his luck when he’d run into the ancient being five days ago. With intense focus and a complete sacrifice of his human form, he’d been able to vaguely sense the presence of something non-human and magical in the city. He wished it could be have been another sorcerer or sorceress from the old days - Mordred maybe, or Morgan Le Fay, if he was dreaming big anyway. He would have been satisfied with a sprite. The ones who’d moved out of their now-hidden communities probably had a high enough level of bitterness for him to exploit, and he knew all too well what a single sprite could do if they put their mind to it.

But then, he had just walked into him, this unassuming young man in a dark sweatshirt with bangs falling in his face, and he’d felt and seen it immediately. The flow of active magic. The sudden white glow in the man’s startled eyes. The familiar echos of ancient times. He’d only ever felt such a strong sense of eternity once- when he’d sought his destiny at Zephyr’s grotto. As he’d watched the man stammer, turn several shades of red, and practically sprint away from him, he knew he absolutely needed to find him again, no matter how many days it took.

Dante leaned back, sighing, as he dragged on his cigarette. The burning sensation in his mouth and throat centered him, gave him focus. It was the closest he could get to swallowing fire. The side effects of his downfall-by-fire-sprite were varied and incomprehensible at times, but this was definitely the strangest one. Smoking was comforting, the flow of carcinogens into his lungs calming. It dampened what hunger he still felt, dulled the pain of constant shape-shifting, and cooled his ever-present rage at the injustice that was the steady disappearance of magic. Was he even susceptible to disease or degradation in this form? He doubted it. He’d been alive since 1473, a magic-scorched adder since 1505. If a physical illness could end him, it would have by now. When he had the energy, he could light the tiny death sticks with his fingers. When he didn’t, he had a tiny yellow lighter on his person at all times. Humanity didn’t do many things right, but at least they’d made breathing smoke easy.

Of all the wonders of the world, though. A Sage, a being who was infinitely knowledgeable and immortal because of magic who didn’t understand why Dante wanted to preserve it? To ensure magic’s proper place at the top of the world order? Dante ached for the old days, when he walked to the bottom of the ocean without a moment’s thought, and could lift himself to fly through the air if he really focused. He’d studied alchemy, transmutation, history, and learned to enhance and channel his natural power further. Yes, he’d had to scheme to be taken seriously, but he’d learned the ways of wizards and humans, how they’d jump and how they worked. He could be very charming when he wanted to, and he could seek information wherever it was found. He had felt so alive.

And he’d had Septimus. Brilliant, driven Septimus. Who had welcomed him into the hallowed halls of learning that worked on every other side to make him feel unwelcome. Who had brought him into his academic world with open arms and an open invitation to use his personal library whenever it could help him. Timus who had fought for him, whether it was letting him pursue his chosen research topics or sleeping in the dorms without being encased in a magical ward at all times. Timus who’d given him acceptance and free reign without a second thought, who treated both his ability and aptitude as a matter of course.

He’d been so disoriented when he’d first met the older sorcerer. For his entire life before university, he’d been treated as a mindless weapon who would hurt anyone and everyone around him if left unattended or uncontrolled. Even the wizards of the university wanted to lock him in a room that was little better than a cell in order to protect the other students. And why wouldn’t they? He was a sorcerer. He was a liability. Long nights shivering in his cold-blooded scales brought back the memories as easy as closing his eyes. The details had lost definition, but he remembered a young frustration, a failed chore, tears conjuring a rainstorm without needing deliberate thought. Warm, maternal hands turned cold and harsh as they left a stinging mark on his cheek. The tears hadn’t stopped, and the storm has grown sparks. Screams in his ear, shouts behind closed doors, and Dante had been carted off to an unfamiliar place.

A place with adults whose voices reverberated like thunder through the halls and through his skull. Foster home, it was called. Correctional facility would have been more accurate. His new ‘siblings’ were child wizards, sirens, half-dryads, fairy changelings. All magical beings. All lone survivors of lost colonies or other younglings abandoned by their families. Or more simply, if you asked those disciplinarians who ran the gray institute, freaks. Abominations. Mistakes to be corrected through whatever means necessary. The siren was dehydrated. The dryads were scorched. Wizards and witches were kept illiterate. But Dante was a rare case. They couldn’t throttle out the magic that begged to be channeled through his hands and fingers, not when it flowed all around him, twining around his shoulders like an affectionate cat, cradling his chin, caressing his chest. They couldn’t force him to have no magic. But they could and did punish every expression of it. Any object that moved without him touching it. Any unexpected weather in the sky. Any metallic glint that could have come from his eye or hand - all provided more than enough justification for isolation, starvation, and savage beatings from the owners of the facility. Even those ignorant humans had made the connection between emotion and magical flares, so expression of feelings, too, were punished. With each missed meal, each night spent in a noiseless room, each lash and scar there was an accompanying whisper. The magic was persistent. It urged him to defend himself, to shield his body from harm. To retaliate.

But the years taught him that no magic could keep him safer than a blank face. His expressionless mask slid into place when he watched another magic child be left at the iron gate. When his roommate was tied to a chair in direct sunlight to dry out her scales. When the owners lectured them all of the wrongness of their existence. The mask spoke, too, producing the words its listeners desired. The lies that kept him safe. He tried to teach the others, but none were able to maintain the deception, and put cracks in his own mask when they failed. Surviving the institute was every being for themselves. He didn’t have the luxury of friends. His magic kept him warm.

His anger at the injustice had been all that kept him sane, all that drove him to escape in his late teens and survive the journey to the university. And the mask traveled with him, prepared and ready for the headmaster’s skepticism and fear. Already in place when the scholars rebuffed his petitions to become an apprentice. And then suddenly, it wasn’t just cracking, it was dissolving, melted away by a warm hand on his shoulder, a word of genuine praise in his ear, a pair of deep blue eyes streaked with gold meeting his in perfect understanding. It was no outcast who took him in, no half-rate archivist taking pity on the disturbed little sorcerer. It was the prodigy, the star of magical academia, the one who never took an apprentice. It was Septimus.

Septimus who was long, long gone from this earth, where Dante still was, where Dante still remembered him and missed him. And regretted not saying goodbye. He’d seriously considered asking the older sorcerer to join him all those years ago. If he’d had Septimus the Azure at his side, maybe his plan would have succeeded. Or maybe he would have just cast him out in disgust. Timus was always too good for Dante, too patient, too willing to let indignation and frustration wash over and past him. He had an ability to just accept the world as it was that had never made any sense to the younger sorcerer. But despite that, or maybe because of it, he’d been Dante’s only friend in all his 500-plus years of existence.

And it was his own fault he’d lost that, all of it. He’d overreached himself, wanting to rule over all beings while preventing the loss of magical beings entirely. He’d been so caught up in the potential of the staff’s power that he didn’t address practical concerns, like warding an incredibly sensitive magical working of immense magnitude. This time around, he had a better focus. He merely wanted to bring back what once was. Once he found the magic beings still in existence, he would convince them to join forces. As they grew in number, they would attract ever more. They could convince those purely magical beings who had fled to the ether to return. If they asked or allowed him to rule, all well and good - what happened after was not his objective nor his particular concern. The real goal was to revive them.

Except, first, he needed to unite them by finding others. Any others. In his prime, he could sense magical beings from across continents. Not that he’d had a need, nor had they ever been so spread out. And his current magical reserves were still in shambles. When that sprite had ruined his plans (“turn to Flame,” what a joke), he’d been deep in a magical working, with all his power engaged. It was the only reason he was still alive, long after even a sorcerer’s normal lifespan should have ended. The backlash had indeed trapped him in serpentine form, as he’d told the Sage. But the years had only slowly recovered his magical ability, not actually healed his body. Stuck in this world of humans, he expended far more magic than he’d like to shapeshift himself into a human form. Losing his concentration or switching to another complex spell broke his ability to stay humanoid. At least he retained his memory, sanity, and ability, no matter how many miles he’d had to slither on his belly across this godforsaken earth.

Once he gathered the magic folk to him, the ambient magic in the world would increase from their density, and his personal reserves would replenish more easily. He just needed to find them, and convince them the old world was not lost, not entirely. He had a theory that the density of magical beings was what led to new ones being born. It was like a forest growing back after a wildfire - once the sturdy, fast-growing trees were in place, the trees who flourished in shade were able to grow at their own slow pace. From what magical arcana he remembered or was able to find in the modern world, particularly his research on Sages and their life-cycles, he felt confident in his theory.  And now, he finally knew just how he’d find the other magic folk: by using the innovations of this strange new world. Turns out, magic folk had slight genetic differences from humans, differences that, if you knew to look for them, could be spotted and traced, with the right technology. Thanks to some intrepid eavesdropping, Dante knew exactly whose research could act as a roadmap to a new - and dare he say - Golden age of the fantastical.

Dante adjusted his new leather gloves. The yellow was a bold choice, he would be the first to admit, but the color was nostalgic. Gloves meant one more part of his body he no longer had to expend so much effort to cover in fleshy human skin. And of course, there was his second Prophecy to think on. He’d risk no “inadvertent prints” now.

author notes:  I love my dark strange evil son Love to watch him scheme Love to watch him suffer [Thank you @Hela from the Powerless discord for encouraging the angst]

(if you didn’t read chapter 17 right before starting this one please go back and read the last line immediately before this chapter’s first line because it makes me very happy)

[saultnpeppah]

A Warrior

My contribution to WonderBatMilestones

Day 1: First Meeting (not exactly a first meeting, but a first impression?)

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN JUSTICE LEAGUE OR ITS CHARACTERS

Bruce Wayne, billionaire CEO of Wayne Enterprises by day, Batman, Dark Knight of Gotham by night, stood on top of the observation deck of the Watchtower, the newest headquarters of the newly formed Justice League. Batman Was never a fan of working in teams, but after saving the world from an alien invasion, even he had to admit having a team of superheros was a great idea. Which is why he had created the Watchtower, using secret funds from his company to fund the building.

"Incredible," Bruce heard come from his right. He looked up to see Superman gazing down at the Earth below them, his face so close to the glass he feared he might smudge it. He began to walk towards the Man of Steel, his expression cold and expressionless as always. "Do your stockholders know about this Bruce?"

"A line item hidden in the aerospace RND budget," Bruce explained, glancing around the deck. Even he had to admit it was breathtaking. "This Watchtower will act as an early warning system for detecting other threats of invasion from space."

"And it also has a fully stocked kitchen," The Flash said, walking out of the elevator and onto the deck, Wonder Woman at his side. "Iced mocha?" he asked Superman, offering the man the beverage in his hand.

"No thanks," Superman said, declining Flash's offer.

Wonder Woman took a sip of her own iced mocha, giving an appreciative moan when the flavors hit her tongue. "They don't have these on Themyscira," she said, staring at the men in front of her.

The Flash quickly rushed to her side, banging his cup against hers. "Stick around Princess, I'll show you the ropes." He flashed her a smile, watching as she grinned back.

"Perhaps I will."

"An impressive installation," the four heard from above. They all looked up to see Green Lantern and Hawkgirl floating down from the upper level. "Most impressive," Green Lantern reiterated as the two landed, "But what's it got to do with us?"

"I once thought I could protect the world by myself," Superman began, walking towards the large window "But I was wrong". He stared at his reflection in the glass, before he looked over his shoulder. "Working together we saved the planet." He turned on his heel to face everyone. "And I believe that if we stay together, as a team, we would be a force that could truly work for the ideals of peace and justice."

Flash grinned and asked, "What, like a bunch of super friends?"

Superman grinned and stared at the group. "More like a Justice League," he said, his smile growing.

Flash took a step towards Superman, his eyebrows furrowing. "Do you have any idea how corny that sounds?" He took a second to think about it and shrugged. "But maybe the big guy's got a point," he said, "With all of us behind it, it just might work." He reached out to shake Superman's hand and gave him a smile. "Count me in."

"Me too," Green Lantern said, walking up to the two and placing his hand on top of Superman's and Flash's.

"And me," Hawkgirl said, as she joined the men.

Diana, the world's newest arrival, let out a sigh as she saw her fellow heros all agree to be apart of the team. She knew she wanted to help, but she also had a home to go back to. After all, she had left so suddenly, and she missed her mother and sisters terribly. But, she knew Man's World was where she was needed now. "My mother may not approve," she began, her face still saddened by the thought of being away from home any longer, "But I find Man's World to be intriguing. I'll gladly join." She quickly walked up to the four and placed her hand in the pile.

Superman turned to face Bruce. "What about you Batman?" he asked, hoping his friend would decide to join the team, in spite of what he liked to tell people about working alone.

Batman turned away from the five. "I'm not really a people person," he explained. "But when you need help, and you will, call me."

Superman nodded. "Understood."

Bruce turned to walk away, his cape enveloping his body as he made his exit, trying to shield himself from the others, as Superman went up to the upper deck to speak to J'onn. As Batman, Bruce had been careful as to whom he let into his life, and whom he had decided to work with. Dick, Jason, Tim, they had all been chosen by him. He had decided to let them work with him, but with the League, he was dealing with people he did not know as well as he would have liked.

Sure, he had been able to do his research on a few of them. He already knew Superman to be Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter from Metropolis, and he had guessed the identities of both The Flash and Green Lantern, although the latter didn't bother to hide his identity much, however his wildcard was the newest arrival: Wonder Woman, or at least that's what The Flash had called her.

She had claimed to be an Amazon, a race of women he had believed to be only myth, until a few weeks ago, when she had shown up out of the blue, with beauty and powers anyone would be amazed with. He had tried not to be bothered by her, deciding to give her a chance to prove himself, but even after she had helped the League save the world, he was skeptical. He knew nothing about her, which worried him immensely.

He took another step down the hall, making his way to the hangar that held the batwing, knowing he needed to get to Gotham before his nightly patrol was supposed to start. He had already spent too much time with the League, working with the founders to build the Watchtower, that he had begun to neglect his duties as Batman, patrolling Gotham.

"Batman?"

He froze. He knew that voice, and as much as it intrigued him, he didn't want to become too attached to the owner; he never wanted to be too attached to anyone.

"Wonder Woman," he said, turning to face the Amazon. He watched as she scrunched her nose, still uncertain with the name The Flash had given her, before she offered him a small smile. "I want to thank you for your hospitality," she said, taking a step towards the cape crusader, watching as he made no attempt to move. "I know you arranged for my stay in Man's World until the Watchtower was finished, and I wanted to thank you for everything."

Batman rose an eyebrow, grateful his cowl didn't allow any emotion to be displayed. She was a curious little creature, but he knew one thing: She was a warrior, through and through. The way she fought, the way she had defended those in need. She fought with honor, and she gave thanks to those who helped in her time of need. "You're welcome," was all he said, before he turned back on his heel, turning his back towards her.

He was about to walk down the hall when she began to speak again. "I would like to repay my debt," she said.

Batman glanced at her over his shoulder. He took in her long dark hair, which made her bright blue eyes stand out even more. She was beautiful, he could admit that, but he couldn't allow himself to be distracted by any woman, even if she was blessed by the gods. "Just do your job," he said, "And your debt will be repaid." With that he walked down the hall, leaving the Amazon in the hallway, a smile on her face. Batman was definitely a curious being, but she was going to fight and make sure she learned his secrets, whether he liked it or not. She was, after all, a warrior.

@fyeahwonderbat

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Al and Linda Lerner on Movies and Shakers: Resistance

Many make fun of mimes, but this film shows Marcel Marceau as a hero before he got famous. Venezuelan Writer/Director Jonathan Jakubowicz cast Jesse Eisenberg who steps up to the challenge playing the mime in this tense thriller as part of this powerful ensemble cast. Eisenberg studied mime for a year to reenact Marceau’s movements before production started. 

Marceau courageously saved thousands of orphan Jewish children during World War II. Jakubowicz has relatives who survived the holocaust and he wanted to tell Marceau’s backstory. He uses General George Patton (Ed Harris) as a way to introduce the person you’re about to see which then goes into flashback. 

Before he changed his name from Marcel Mangel, to Marceau, he was the son a Jewish kosher butcher who idolized Charlie Chaplin. You’ll see how Marcel only wanted to be a performer, but was drawn into being an unlikely hero of the French Resistance. When the Nazis kicked off their deadly rampage killing Jews on Kristallnacht, the orphans were eventually delivered to France for protection shortly before the German invasion. This is where Marcel was coerced into using his innate artistic talents to calm and entertain the children. He realized he could relax their fear and anxiety with laughter. 

Eisenberg and Póesy demonstrate good chemistry as Emma and Marcel’s relationship grows. Emma becomes a vastly important part of Marcel’s life and goes through the most dramatic change in Jakubowicz’ interpretation. Poésy’s immense talent and range as an actress is highlighted in her character’s transformation as the Occupation becomes more brutal.  

In reality, Marcel was only 15 and in the Boy Scouts in Strasbourg when he became involved. In actuality, Eisenberg is in his mid thirties, and it’s hard to imagine him as not being much older than the kids he’s saving. But, his performance is earnest and believable as a young man who learns to think outside of himself and commit to the cause.

Jakubowicz develops each of the main characters well. And he does not just use these Jewish children as a plot device, but goes deeper into the reasons for their trauma and fears. That even includes the training Marcel and the others gave the children to save their lives. The scene where the kids are shown how to climb trees to hide themselves proves what Marcel used in performing, “To make the invisible, visible, and the visible, invisible.” The way it is shot is effective and even more so later in the film in the group’s tense scene with the Nazis for survival. Scenes also depict  how Marcel used his artistic talent to hand-make forgeries of papers and passports to keep them from being taken by the Nazis. 

The one child who touches Marcel’s heart is Elsbeth, (Bella Ramsey, Game of Thrones, Judy) whose parents were killed in front of her on Kristallnacht. Ramsey is a compelling young actress. At first, Jakubowicz has her paralyzed and her face close to expressionless from all she’s been through. But as Marcel draws her out, she shows more emotion and will touch your heart too. Her subtle smiles are real and so are her tears. 

All of these kids are traumatized and Marcel, his brother, Emma and Mila are their only protection. As the Nazis move into France, it’s up to them to find safe places. Jakowicz makes a point of showing how the children had to understand that to survive, they had to pretend they weren’t Jewish, going as far as enduring the trauma of having their religious curly side locks of hair cut off.

Warning: There are horrific scenes involving the cruelty of “The Butcher of Lyon,” Klaus Barbie (Matthias Schweighöfer) who was the SS and Gestapo commander who delighted in torturing Jews and resistance members himself. You never see actually see it, but Director Jakubowicz takes you to the edge with Emma and Mila, which is powerful enough. And it continues in tense scenes with Emma, Marcel and the children on a train that are chilling. As soon as Schweighöfer appears on the screen as Barbie, you’ll recoil. 

Jakubowicz wrote and directed a compelling story that keeps you riveted, You care about these characters and what will happen to them. Eisenberg handles his transformation as Marcel very well. Even though he had a mime double, his actions on camera without makeup are very graceful and believable. We understand Jakubowicz’ using Ed Harris General George Patton to introduce Marcel Marceau at the beginning and end of the film, but it lays flat. Eisenberg’s performance at the end is not as dynamic as we expected after all he went through. Even thought we thought the final scene should have resonated better, this almost forgotten story about the famous mime tells of a superhero whose actions spoke louder than words. 

IFC Films          2 hours        R         See at home or on demand

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[antonioebangelista]

What does it take to be a TRUE MANDIRIGMA or SPIRITUAL WARRIOR for the E.V.M. Administration? How does one prove that he is truly ONE WITH E.V.M.? Up to what extent would an E.V.M. fanatic follower go to prove his loyalty?

Let us remember the likes of well known EVM henchmen who went over and beyond the call of duty to prove that they are truly ONE WITH E.V.M. (REMEMBER, IT DOESN’T TAKE MUCH BRAINS TO BE AN E.V.M. HENCHMEN.)

What makes you think that these people are even capable of doing illegal and heinous things?

Simple. Let’s use these questions and see how a henchman would answer it:

Are you  ONE WITH EVM? Henchmen: YES.

Are you willing to follow obey the EVM Church Administration? Henchmen: YES.

What are you willing to sacrifice for the Church Administration? Henchmen: Everything including my life.

Are you willing to die for the Church Administration? Henchmen: YES.

Are you following along with the questionnaire? How are you faring so far? If your answers are the same then you are ready for the next level.

If you are willing to give even your very LIFE for EVM and the Church Administration, are you then willing to use your position in your office/department to be of service for the Church Administration? Henchmen: YES.

Are you willing to FIGHT for the Church Administration? Henchmen: YES.

Are you willing to LIE for the Church Administration? Henchmen: YES.

Are you willing to bend the law for the Church Administration? Henchmen: YES.

Are you willing to kidnap and detain anyone for the Church Administration? Henchmen: YES.

The last and most important question to prove that you are TRULY ONE WITH E.V.M…

ARE YOU WILLING TO KILL FOR THE CHURCH ADMINISTRATION?

HENCHMEN: YES!!!

And these are the TOP NOTCHERS who passed the EVM LOYALTY TEST

One needs to CONSTANTLY prove his ABSOLUTE LOYALTY to E.V.M. to become and “REMAIN” as a member of the POWERFUL and HIGHLY EXCLUSIVE SANGGUNIAN.

Next, comes the HEAD HENCHMEN for all Black-Ops (Operations) for the Church: Minister Benefrido Canicosa Santiago (brother of Bienvenido Canicosa Santiago Jr. and former Sanggunian Minister) [Read: https://incsilentnomore.com/2016/04/01/expose-1-going-back-to-the-scene-of-the-first-crime/]

The next level of trusted henchmen are the so-called “0-1s” or District Ministers. If a Minister doesn’t have the same level of atrocity and aggressiveness, then he has no right to remain as a District Minister. But among the District Ministers, one stood out in the sight of E.V.M. when he proved that he is willing and highly capable of orchestrating a high-profile kidnapping in his own District, complete with a clean-up crew and a silencing tactic for any eye-witnesses during the covert operations:

Sorsogon District Minister Ernesto Mabasa and Assistant District Minister Israeli Gatchalian as his kidnapping accomplice

[Read: https://incsilentnomore.com/2016/04/08/jungko-otsukawhat-are-you-going-to-do-next-kill-my-sister/]

The only difference between low-life criminal syndicates and EVM’s Church Administration is the “WAY” they commit their crimes. While the low-life crooks simply commit a crime by violating the law, the elusive and exclusive E.V.M. Church Administration commits the CRIME and uses its influence in different agencies of the Government such as the Justice System and Law Enforcement to make all their EXTRAJUDICIAL ACTIVITIES (Crimes) appear to be LEGIT! If not, they have the power to black out their crimes from all forms of news media. The EVM Church Administration ushered in THE MODERN DAY E.V.M. INQUISITION.

That is why they have 2 figureheads in the INC Legal Department, each focusing on different aspects of the church. One is Glicerio Santos IV or GP, who is the labeled Head of the Legal Department, he handles all the “lucrative” businesses of the Church and when we say the “Church” here, we’re referring to the Church’s alter-egos, which is the Maligaya Development Corporation, FYM Foundation, Subic-FYM Foundation, UNLAD, and so many more, and as you look deeper into these corporations, only one surname will always pop up as the sole beneficiaries, THE SANTOSES. [Read: https://incsilentnomore.com/2015/07/16/part-4-glicerio-p-santos-iv-sold-four-inc-prime-properties-in-antipolo-city-for-php-16-9-million/]

[Read: https://incsilentnomore.com/2016/03/27/evm-there-is-absolutely-no-corruption/]

The second figurehead in the INC Legal Department is the son of Minister Dan V. Orosa, T.J. Orosa, and husband of Eduardo Manalo’s eldest daughter, Kristine Dorothy Manalo-Orosa. He prides himself as the brilliant mind behind the “black-ops” against the “enemies of the church”. He uses his fondness of Sun Tzu’s Art of War stratagems in his efforts to quash the growing number of brethren who are now standing up against the anomalies in the church despite the threats of unjust expulsions.

And ofcourse, what use is a sinister plan without a “go-to” guy, somebody who would enact all their “illegal” tactics to make it appear as “legal”. They would need people with just enough legal know-how in handling a jaywalking case because they wouldn’t need much brain power due to the immense political clout of the EVM Administration that can command Justices and Courts to bend to its will. Lying in the media or in the courts will never be a problem to them because they believe that what they are doing is a service to God. Among those who are swift to obey to do evil are these characters.

Lies: [Watch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEdMDaud9ew]

Truth: [Watch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z63GwgL0uY]

Minister/Lawyer Rommel San Pedro

INC Lawyer Wilfredo Santos

[Watch: https://youtu.be/Yes5lKEsNbY]

  Atty. Vimar Barcellano

There are a lot more of these two-faced lying lawyers who are always at the beck and call of EVM and his Sanggunian Ministers.

So whenever there would be lying lawyers and constant propaganda and cover-ups they will need a media machinery to stitch everything together in order to make it appear true and responsible. The once prestigious NET-25 and reputable INCTV have been reduced to tabloid media outlets that can no longer differentiate holiness from obscenity and maliciousness. It is evident that they cannot dissociate from foul, vile and vulgar journalism whenever they publish articles, posts, and videos against their so-called critics. They will throw damaging and harmful lies at anyone who has a different opinion from their own. That’s where the face of “The Spokesperson” comes into play. Minister Edwil Joy Zabala, who used to exude an honest persona which is probably why they used him to replace the extremely expressionless poker-faced Minister Bienvenido Casanova Santiago Jr. They picked someone who has a credible reputation and not someone who is known to lie. They needed a fresh face, a convincing personality, modernistic and westernized, and who could be better than the neoteric and newfangled face of Minister Edwil Joy Zabala. He has the responsibility to herald the smear campaigns and make them palatable not only to the general public but most of all to the brethren. He has full access and use of the Church’s TV (NET-25 and INCTV), Radio, Print (Pasugo God’s Message) and Social Media sites (Access the Truth, Cutting Classes Series, INCMedia.org and others).

[Watch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PCEf80M5a0]

Now comes the worker ants that tirelessly follow every bidding blindly.  These members turned officers turned mercenaries have gone thru a rigid test of loyalty because once they are tasked with something, the Church Administration needs to know if their obedience to EVM supersedes any code of ethics or conduct tied to their position or job. EVM fanatics make the best mercenaries because they are willing to lie, die and kill for the sake of the Church Administration and they will not hesitate to use their position or authority to carry out their extrajudicial acts.

Here are some basic examples of how these people look like…

  This vicious chain of command is designed for one thing and one thing only and that is to make EVM Smile and feel loved. This is what constitutes the perverted pride of a ruthless yet insecure and troubled Executive Minister.

So what do all of these traits pertain to? The fulfillment of what is written in the Bible so that we would all be aware..

What the Lord Hates

“The Lord hates these seven things: eyes that show pride, tongues that tell lies, hands that kill innocent people, hearts that plan evil things to do, feet that run to do evil, witnesses in court who tell lies, and anyone who causes family members to fight.“ ~ Proverbs 6:16-19 Easy-to-Read Version 

Their blind obedience to a prideful man is what drove these supposedly God-fearing men into vicious agents of inquisition and murder.

  Now isn’t it ironic that all the things that the Lord God hates can be found in one Church Administration- the Eduardo V. Manalo Administration. What does the Bible say about these works of darkness?

“Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. Therefore do not be partakers with them. For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness, righteousness, and truth),  finding out what is acceptable to the Lord. And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather expose them.“ ~ Ephesians 5:6-11 New King James Version  

You may not be the one who held the knife that stabbed, you may not be the one who pulled the trigger that killed, you may not be the one who forged the signature of the deed, you may not be the one who ordered the abductions and killings, but you kept quiet and did not expose them, rather you remained in membership or in fellowship with them. Therefore, the anger of God is upon you and His wrath will come upon those who disobey His commandments and continue to do the things that He hates.

Now that you know the things that are abominable in His sight, would you remain to obey them in silence or would you stand up and speak of them in all goodness, righteousness, and truth?

“Remember, it is sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it. “ James 4:17 New International Version.

  ~ Antonio Ramirez Ebangelista

  “They tried to bury us…they didn’t know we were seeds.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have power or money, but what I do have is a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career.  Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you.  If you tell the truth now, that’ll be the end of it.  I will not look for you, I will not pursue you.  But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will expose you.” – A.E.

Philippine Daily Inquirer Article: “Antonio Ebangelista writes Philippine Daily Inquirer, Warns Iglesia Elders”

Question adn Answer: Q & A with Antonio Ebangelista

The CHOICE is always UP TO YOU : “The Red Pill. The Blue Pill”

Contact Information:

Official Email: AntonioRamirezEbangelista@gmail.com

Official Blog: http://www.incsilentnomore.com

Official Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/WeAreTheSeedsSilentNoMore/

Official Facebook Account:https://www.facebook.com/antonio.ebangelista.77

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Deciphering the E.V.M. Henchmen Code What does it take to be a TRUE MANDIRIGMA or SPIRITUAL WARRIOR for the E.V.M. Administration? How does one prove that he is truly ONE WITH E.V.M.?