#women can never win jesus christ

[demonwebs]

will delete this, but what vexes me the most about playing female characters is how you get accused of being a ship whore if u so much as dare to breathe next to a male character, but then if you make a character who doesn't wanna ship with anyone, you also get ignored because ✨ misogyny always wins ! women can't win, even on something as silly tumblr rp ✨

[heavenbarnes]

I know you talked about meeting older bf!Simon in the alternate universe but can you please tell us how we met normal universe Simon?

oh 🥹 course i can write a little meet cute (i have oc you a little bit but that’s ok i think)

the first time you ever meet your older bf!simon, you’re actually at work.

your boss tells you and the rest of your coworkers (very late notice, might you add) that your dinky little cafe is taking part in a government run initiative-

“service for service men”

the collective hum of confusement doesn’t skip you and you’re even more confused when he tells you that different businesses are opening their doors to service men (and women technically) to allow them to integrate with their community.

you don’t want to outright say it seems performative but, it definitely seems performative.

nevertheless, you get your apron on and wait for them to arrive. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that, knowing your luck, you’re going to get some morally-grey weirdo.

instead you get-

“simon riley, uh- ghost”

your boss reads it from his clipboard as the man in question appears before you like an apparition. with a skull gator mask covering the lower half of his face.

ok.

you do your best to smile and give him your name when you learn quickly that this guy is a man of few words, but many grunts.

“do you prefer simon or ghost?”

he eyes you in his peripheral as you move behind the counter towards your coffee machine. he doesn’t answer and you know it’ll be a long day.

“alright, i’m picking simon”

and he doesn’t argue so you take it as a win.

you bring him to the coffee machine and explain the bare basics, you’re also hyper aware that in a few days- he’s going to go back to handling guns and never make another cappuccino in his life so you don’t go too crazy.

but he does have to make his own coffee.

“and then you would bring the milk jug to this spout and the steam froths it”

his eyes are blank, unreadable- but jesus christ can he hold a stare. you get this unshakable sense that he does not give a fuck and, honestly, you can’t blame him.

but it is your job.

“do you want to give it a go?”

his eyes flicker to the machine for a second before they’re back on yours, expecting more silent treatment you nearly jump when he speaks.

“what if i fuck it up?”

your eyebrows crinkle just a little. what? it’s a coffee machine? this man’s probably performed manoeuvres the average person didn’t know existed.

and he’s scared of a coffee machine?

you almost want to snort a little laugh but a voice in your head tells you better not. instead you step a little closer to him.

“you won’t, i won’t let you”

and he catches you in his peripheral again, ever so slightly inching closer to you. he surprises you again by speaking up.

“will y’tell me what t’do?”

“if that’s what you’d like, course i will”

and that’s what you do. massive hands dwarf the milk jug as he cradles it so not to scald the milk but moves it with a dexterity you can only admire.

“and pull it off like- that, that’s perfect”

he looks at the milk before he looks at you, almost like he’s studying your expression.

“y’sure?”

“yes- you did a good job, simon”

he turns his head before you can get a good look at his expression. as he’s pouring the milk into the mug like you’d instructed, you very nearly missed what he said.

“i prefer simon”

craning your neck so you can better see his face, you question it with a quiet hum.

“i prefer y’calling me simon- i didn’t want y’to call me ghost”

oh.

“glad i picked well then”

he doesn’t respond to that but you figure he’s not the type you push. his coffee rests on the bench before him and he’s looking at it like he wants to try.

then he’s looking around at all the people filling the small cafe and his knuckles nudge at the edge of his mask.

oh.

you don’t know how you do it but you put two and two together quite quickly. eyes darting to the door behind you, you’re telling him to follow you.

he ends up, coffee in hand, in the small break room at the back. just a table and a couple chairs with a zip boiler on the wall.

you offer him a chair as you awkwardly hover by the door. “so you can enjoy your creation”

he takes a seat and then looks at you expectantly, before nodding his head towards the other chair.

you sit, do what you’re told- and all of a sudden he’s checking his six once before he pulls the mask down.

it takes your breath away a little bit.

honestly? truthfully? he just looks like a man.

but to you? a part of you is worried that you might spend the rest of your life thinking about him.

like you might be old and grey one day without a thought left to your name but he’ll be the last thing to leave your mind.

he doesn’t break that hardline stare with you as he takes a sip. he really didn’t have to groan quietly as he did it, but he did.

you think he watches you fidget. you think you like it. you think he does too.

at the end of the day, your coworkers are complaining as you all get your bags and close up shop for the day.

“i hope they all got something out of it cause i didn’t get a single bloody thing”

you snort in amusement, minding your business as you shrug your jacket on. as your hands burrow into your warm pockets you feel your fingers brush over the small slip of paper.

you could almost trace the pen stroked digits.

yeah, didn’t get a bloody thing.

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 I ain't looking for a lie to believe, my own'll do me fine 🎶

Strangerville’s saloon was in full swing. Men who were worried about feeding their families or women scared their men may never come home from California finally had a place to drown their worries or lose them in the high of a shared laugh. Where illegality and excess had amplified the spirit of drink a decade before, now palpable relief and struggle had taken its place.

In between pouring a never ending stream of whiskey and beer, Josephine watched the woman across the bar. She had thought that outselling her would be easy. She had been dismissive, gruff, and even downright rude; and if there was one thing that Jo had learned in New Orleans, it was that she could sell anything with a suggestive glance better than the disdain she often really felt. 

Only this woman made no effort to hide the ribs and insults she seemed to lay out like easy jokes. She would swoop down to tables, seemingly calling each and every patron by name, laughing roughly and loudly before bringing them one beer after another. Part of it infuriated Josephine, but another part wouldn’t let her tear her eyes away from her every move.

She seemed comfortable running the place entirely alone, throwing Josephine a wink in between customers as though to say: I’m going to win, city girl. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

At the end of the night with the last drink served and the final stumbling patron seen to the door, Josephine and the woman sat at the bar, tallying their earnings. As Jo reached the end of her stack and set it on the counter, the woman was still counting. She finished with painfully slow fanfare and put the pile neatly beside Josephine’s. It was clearly and discernibly higher. “Well looks like we have a clear winner here, and we know what that means, don’t we?” 

Then she smiled in the same dismissive way that she had earlier that day, and moved her gaze to the stack of ones Jo had set down, “Not too shabby for a first night though. Most people in this town don’t trust a new face but you did better than I expected. And I’ll admit, the extra help was nice. A decade of sitting at home did nothing to temper these drunks, and I could use you around most nights.”

Jo straightened her spine and covered her eyes. Suddenly the job seemed like pity, the money nothing but a tether to a place she hated and people who had betrayed her. It wasn’t hers, and it certainly didn’t give her the sense of self or freedom she had expected to find. All the stacks told her was that she had lost. Lost to some tall and stocky woman at her own game in someone’s else’s bar in some fucking desert town she couldn’t even give a damn what the name was.

Her head swam and she started to separate from herself, to forget where she was or who she was. If she could feel her legs she would have stood to run, run to the edge of this town into the desert, away from this place and these people and all of these feelings…

“Jesus Christ, are you okay?” The words had come like static from a radio, from a voice she didn’t recognize or really care to please.

“What? I – I just,” Josephine stubbed out her cigarette straight on the bar as she gathered herself and turned to stand. Only she couldn’t, because she still couldn’t feel her legs or sense where she was, even as her pride and anger started to flood back to her flushed face. “I was just thinking on your offer. I’m afraid I can’t take it.”

The woman laughed, the sound shaking off the remaining clouds around Josephine’s head. “That sore of a loser, huh? Well that pride’ll earn their respect a lot faster than your pretty grins. Come back tomorrow night, we’ll go again. I’ll teach you a few names, see if we can tip the scales.”

Josephine looked up at her. By that point she could have moved to stand, walked back across town with her head held high and the secret of her loss hidden carefully away from the man waiting for her at home. Only there was no pity in the woman’s face, only a wry if good natured sense of superiority that Jo was more than familiar with from her own mirror; and up this close it was hard to deny that even with its hardened lines, there was a beauty to the woman’s face, so much so that Jo wanted to reach out to the hand extended to her even more.

As she did so the woman let her hand stay in Jo’s a moment longer than she expected. “Welcome aboard Miss Duplanchier. Now's as good a time as any to introduce myself. I’m Valcita. Valcita Grove. But you can call me Val.”

Then Jo realized that she was right. Her face was beautiful, the same way that the shadowless desert was beautiful in the full heat of the midday sun. Her heart beat faster as she imagined running into it again, not in fear this time, but in freedom, smiling as her world went up in flames behind her.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen

TW: noncon, angst, trauma, PTSD, don’t read this if you like hot doctors named Julian (he was probably an actual sweetheart in canon, but we decided to flip that around in this, so read with that in mind)

You really should have foreseen it, before letting yourself hang out alone in the breakroom. But you are tired–exhausted, actually, and you can only blame so much on the work at hand.

Tom fucking Ludlow.

You find yourself grinning like an idiot at your sandwich–which is exactly how Dr. Julian Mercer finds you, of course. You don’t even fucking hear him approach. He just appears at your side like a ghost, and you nearly jump out of your skin as he says in a low voice, “Y/n.”

“Jesus Christ,” you wheeze, clutching your chest. “Julian…”

“Maybe Doctor would be more appropriate.” It probably would, but you’re not sure if he’s asking for this out of the cold indifference his tone suggests–or that other little extra meaning it has for the two of you.

“Okay, Doctor Mercer. Creep around like a fucking ghost much?”

“No. You were just distracted.”

You blow air between your teeth. You really don’t want to fight with this man right now, but it feels like he’s spoiling for something. “What do you want?”

He takes your hands in his, running gentle fingers over marks on your wrists that have now mostly faded. You hate to admit it–but this careful, questing touch sends a thrill across your skin. “The animal,” he growls under his breath. “Clearly no clue as to what he was doing.”

Hoo boy, was he wrong about that.

“Did you have a safeword at least?”

“No…?”

“Fucking amateur.” 

You don’t know how to tell him, that rendering sex absolutely clinical with boundaries and safewords beforehand just doesn’t do it for you. You just…trusted Tom not to hurt you. And he didn’t. 

“Julian…”

“Doctor.”

“Yeah, that. What do you think you’re doing?” You try to pull your hands away, but he holds on, just firm enough to keep you. Despite what Tom likes to taunt, Julian is not little, or weak.

The look in his eyes is that of a man drowning.

“Losing my mind?”

“You are being ridiculous. You have got to let it go.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

This is absurd. Men do not lose their shit over you. They use you, then throw you away at their first convenience. You give a fat sigh that you hope conveys your annoyance. 

“Julian, have you seen the women that walk around this hospital? Better, Have you seen the women in your BDSM club? Have you never thought of trying one of those girls out? I mean, they are into the same stuff.” 

His thumb presses on the dark marks the belt left on your wrist, making a little diffuse ache light your skin. “You are clearly into BDSM, y/n. Just the unsafe way of doing it, I suppose.” 

Okay, now he’s just plain pissing you off. Once again, a man insinuating that you’re too stupid and naive to advocate for yourself. Too weak to take initiative, too gullible to know that you have to. You wrench your hand back from him, and he glares after it like it called him a dirty name. “Are you kidding me?” You say, not hiding the bite of your words, “and setting people on fire is just so safe, right? Whipping someone’s feet is the safest thing you can do in sex, yep, boy howdy, you’re absolutely right, Julian. How stupid of me.” 

Your aim is to hurt him with your words, although now you’re regretting it when he looks back at you with those big, brown, sad orbs. Fuck, you can just never win with this man and his multiple personalities. He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re with him, then?” 

“I’m…” you take a breath and try to step outside of yourself for a minute and view the situation objectively, just like you learned to do in therapy, and what you’re seeing is a misguided man who doesn’t know he can bag any freaky woman he wants become overly attached to you because he was vulnerable with you that one time. “I’m not.” How do you word it without sounding pathetic? “I’m not that great of a catch. I promise you there is a much better person out there for you.” 

“I don’t think so,” he says quietly, intensely, sending a shudder through you that freezes and burns all at once. “Do you love him?” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. “I just met him.”

“Well, then, I still have a chance.” 

Your fist clenches unconsciously, ready for a fight. Maybe a metaphorical fight, but a fight nonetheless. “No,” you tell him, swallowing your nice, “you don’t, Julian.” 

“What if…I promised not to punish you?”

This does make you pause, and you swear, not because you’re actually considering it, but because you are surprised he would even think to compromise his needs, for you. 

It’s a heady feeling, if not entirely misplaced.

“No,” you answer, much too late. “No, no, nope.”

“I can see you’re intrigued.”

“No, I’m…flabbergasted. It wouldn’t be any fun for you.”

He looks you up and down, blatantly checking you out. You swear you will never get used to that look in a man’s eyes, trained on you. “I wouldn’t say that.” Then his attention turns back to your wrists, tracing the marks Tom’s belt left again with fascination. “Just let me…do this to you. God, the things I would do to you.” He inches closer as he says this, until before you know it you are standing nearly chest to chest, and your heart is beating at a mile a minute.

You have to try twice, before you find your voice. “That’s exactly what scares me about you, Julian.”

He dares to touch you, turning your face up to his with his palm on your jaw. “That you might like it, y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and you step back, away from Julian. Away from your sandwich too, unfortunately. But you guess you’re going to have to write it off. Or circle back later. You have no further clever quips to offer Dr. Julian Mercer. For lack of a better word–you flee.

At the nurses’ station a bright and cheery reminder of someone else’s devotion awaits you. A happy bouquet of sunflowers, with a simple card that reads, Dorothy, Thinking about you. Glad you’re not in Kansas anymore -T It is just the boost to morale you need, after your chilling little interlude with Julian.

However, you don’t get to take them home. They disappear while you are working, and you think you know who is to blame for the childish act of revenge. Rather than letting it drop, you decide to prove to Julian that you have boundaries and he can’t just push you around like this. 

You catch him as he’s about to get into his car, and get Deja Vu from the scenario. The parking garage isn’t well lit, empty of other humans, and damp with oppressive LA heat. Maybe it’s not the best place to confront a man, but you never claimed to be a complete genius. And, now that you’re here…

“Julian, do you know where my sunflowers went? From the desk? Tom got them for me.”

He looks down at you with dark eyes. “Fresh flowers are a health code violation. I had to dispose of them.” 

And you thought Tom could make you livid; Julian is here proving that he can spike your anger from a two to a ten in one simple sentence. “And what about the flowers you got me that stayed at the desk? Huh? Those were fine, right?”

He shrugs. “No.” 

“So, what the fuck?” You’re raising your voice, feeling the heat of anger singing through the blood in your body like a vengeful choir. Your fist clenches to actually punch him—God, you want to. 

“I’ll buy you more flowers,” he says, as if that’s going to fix the problem. 

“I don’t want your flowers,” you growl, “I don’t want you, Julian!” 

Before you know what’s happening, he has you gripped up in his hands and pressed against the door of his car, mouth on your own, bullying inside to suck and bite and bruise. You try to push and kick and thrash against him, but his long body is pressed firmly into yours, holding you steady against warm metal. His blunt fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arms and make you gasp, which allows him further entrance into your mouth.

You can’t fucking breathe with him latched onto you like this, and your frantic hands reach to tear at his scrubs, his belt, his skin. He pulls away, blessedly, panting and wild eyed, and you immediately start in on him. “Get the fuck off me, Julian.” You writhe in short, shallow breaths, lungs crushed by his heavy torso and unable to entirely fill. 

“This is what you want,” he says, ignoring your demand. “You want someone to take advantage of you. Make you, force you. And if that’s what you need, that’s what I can give.”

“I don’t want that,” you reply. “I want the opposite of that! Get off me! I will scream.” 

His mouth edges into a terrifying smile. “You think anyone’s going to hear you?” He asks, looking around the empty parking garage. “You think anyone’s going to save you if I decide to take you home for a few days and do terrible things to you?” He grabs your chin, fingers spanning the entire bottom, reminding you of the size difference and making you whimper in pain. He presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “Make you regret having nerve endings…” 

Your whole body is shaking violently with adrenalized fear. Sweet Doctor Julian is a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he’s hungry for your flesh and blood. You should have known. You should have seen this coming. Shouldn’t you be an expert on narcissists and abusers by now? Shouldn’t you have been smarter? Shouldn’t you do the smart thing now and convince him to let you go?

“Please, Julian.” Disgust bubbles in your gut, reacting vehemently to the pathetic, pleading voice that leaves your mouth. “Please don’t.” 

He pulls your chin up a little higher. “You can beg prettier than that.” 

“Please, Doctor.” You swallow the raging hatred you have for yourself. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll be a good girl.” 

He hums and kisses you temple, lips ghosting into your hairline as he inhales your shampoo choice. “You’re lucky I don’t put you on your knees right here and make you choke on my cock for a while, pumpkin.” 

“Please.” You give him your best impression of a beaten dog with wide, owl eyes, hoping you can somehow get out of this without actually getting hurt. All you can think of is Tom; how you wish he was here to beat the fuck out of Julian, how you should have let him beat the fuck out of Julian on your doorstep. 

His hand moves down, pressing softly into the front of your throat, just enough to make it uncomfortable. “It’s refreshing to see something so wild become so tame with fear.” Fear is an understatement. Pure panicking terror is what consumes you. Bred from C-PTSD and Julian’s heavy, big hand on your throat. You’ve been here before, small and terrified under a man with power… And, suddenly, you’re her again, that little girl trembling and cowering and cornered. You don’t know that you’re crying until a little tear tickles down your cheek. 

He kisses that saltwater trail, peeks his tongue out to taste your sad desperation and shivers against you. “You taste delicious.” 

Fucking Hannibal Lector, Psycho, serial killer. How did you not see it? How? 

It occurs to you that Tom saw it, saw straight through the mask, to the beast beneath Julian Mercer’s carefully constructed facade, all along. He’d warned you, but like the stubborn little idiot you are, you didn’t listen. 

Tom. Somehow it’s the thought of him, how he looks at you like you are precious, like you’re not stupid, like you are something worth saving, that breaks your thought pattern, your desire to just freeze and hope this man with his hand on your throat isn’t going to hurt you, hope that the bad thing goes away if you’re still enough, small enough, don’t draw attention to yourself. You think on what Tom would have you do.

You hear Ludlow’s voice, plain as day, cutting through the fear: c’mon, you have just enough room to fuck him up. 

You drive your knee as absolutely hard as you can into Dr. Julian Mercer’s gonads. 

The good doctor crumbles with a groan that sounds like his soul leaving his body. 

You run. On your shaking legs as fast as you can to your car, barely able to unlock the door with your trembling hands trying to manipulate your keys in the lock. You feel like you’re in a horror film. Instead of being the one yelling at the screen, Don’t run up the stairs, stupid!—you are the stupid girl, and you have so much sympathy for the girl being chased by the Big Bad with a knife and having no idea what to do with your hands. 

No. You are not dying today. You are not letting this monster win today. You are not fodder. You are Final Girl material, goddammit. Maybe you never believed it before, but Tom’s voice is still in your head. You can hear him ordering you what to do. Put in your key. Twist. Open. Get in. Lock the door. 

 You manage all this somehow, just before Juian slams against your window, his face a mask of fury. “Open the door, y/n.” 

Maybe still channeling Tom, and maybe acting completely on your own now, you press your middle finger against the window for him before starting your engine and peeling away. He barely manages to stumble back in time to save his toes from getting crushed by your racing tires. 

[swampgallows]

there is absolutely no world in which i would ever tell people not to vote. voting is a hard-won right, esp if you're a woman or black or indigenous or any other person of color. i just think more can be done in terms of getting involved in your community and local politics than ticking a box once every four years and acting like that's going to magically cascade down to every other concern and inequity you have.

especially the 'vote blue no matter who' shit. because i live in california we have plenty of blue bitches on the ballot and some of them are drastically underqualified for the position, or they hold views that completely contradict any sort of good they might be doing, or theyre just republicans rebranded with a blue coat of paint. for instance something EXTREMELY common is that theyll toot their horns on womens rights and gay rights (considered "radical" compared to The Opposition, hoping they can coast on that bare fucking minimum) then perpetuate the narrative about being "tough on crime" and nimby-ass "cleaning up the streets", because obv california has a huge homeless crisis. no candidate is 100% perfect but when people vote based on "blue" and vibes and not even looking at a candidate's endorsements regardless of party i would also consider that throwing your vote away.

voting consciously is HARD and can be convoluted but people crowing about doing their civic duty and then at the same time acting like voting is this totally mindless flippant process that you do once every couple of years and then forget about only contributes to people being completely tuned out of their civil and social existence. it's no wonder so many people readily adopt the 'vax and relax' mentality for covid and believe that anyone else saying "actually things are still incredibly shitty" is some kind of dissident shrew rather than the person being most brutally fucked by everyone else's apathy.

im in this headspace because ive been reading how to survive a plague and about the GRUELING effort that queer people (particularly gay men) had to endure, both from external sources and infighting within their own community, to get people to stop fucking dying and the people in power to ACKNOWLEDGE let alone actually treat the disease. the fact that someone reblogged a post from me and was lauding fauci on it for his contribution to aids research is so deeply contrasted from the years of paternalistic rejection from fauci described in the book, not to mention the petty squabbling over fucking patents and jingoism between gallo and the french over 'who discovered aids' and the decision to use the faulty american tests over the more accurate french ones. people dying by the fucking thousands, over 65% of ALL men in new york at the time being actively infected with the virus, and suits were arguing about fucking stocks and citations. jesus christ.

basically just.. i think it's naiive to believe that these people actually care about you. they dont. they want your "vote" so they can continue to do whatever they need to in order to stay in power. and every time you vote you're saying "i agree with this", even if there are parts you dont agree with. but if you never voice your disagreement and mobilize to take action on it, your silence will ALWAYS be considered tacit acceptance by the ruling class and your peers. so this idea that we cant even VOICE our concerns without being decried as fascists or trump supporters or "letting the terrorists win" is legitimately not democratic.

[dissonantharmony]

screenshots from eret's fcr vod i took while half-asleep last night, rated 1-10 depending on how angsty they are: a compilation

Wilbur: Do you know what the L'Manburg way is, gents? I'll give you two guesses. Eret: What is that? Wilbur: We talk at them. We lull into a false sense of security, right? And that's when... we stab 'em in the back, Tubbo. We stab 'em. (21:41)

9/10 - Fuck dude Eret sure did follow the L'Manburg way jesus christ

Wilbur: No matter what happens in this war, no matter who wins or loses... Just remember that... We're on the right side of history, here. (27:23)

5/10 - Yeah I'm sure that'll go just fine for you guys mhm mhm

Tommy: I can't believe you--People like you--You remind me of every woman I've ever been with, lemme tell you-- Eret: [Hysterical laugh] Tommy: --And for the record, I've been with so many women--Ohh my GOD! I swear to god I'm gonna rip your entire organs a--uh--and--in Minecraft. [Feral Tommy noises] (43:30)

0/10 - I'm laughing my ass off dear god

(1:05:00)

1/10 - I'M FUCKING CRYING?

Eret: King Eret, boys! King Eret! I am king of Dream SMP! No one can stop me! [She runs into a gate.] maybe this gate canOkay no one can stop me! (1:26:04)

6/10 - This would be really funny if the blorbo wasn't quite blatantly drunk on power she will soon discover she doesn't have

Eret: [Reading chat] "A king without friends is nothing." I have friends! All my--My friends are Dream, Sapnap, George, Punz--I'm friends with all of them. [Deep breath] They promised me victory, they promised me friendship--They didn't promise me friendship but we were friends before. [A beat.] King Eret. (1:27:19)

10/10 - GIRLIEPOP THEY ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS!! TOMMY WAS RIGHT WHEN HE ASKED IF THE "BETTER DEAL" WOULD HUG YOU AT NIGHT, IF IT WAS BETTER THAN TEAMWORK!! YOU ARE TOO BLINDED BY POWER TO SEE YOU'VE LOST NEARLY ALL CONNECTION YOU USED TO HAVE!! THAT YOU'RE ISOLATED AND ALONE IN A GILDED CAGE!!

Eret: [Looking at the ruins of L'Manburg.] What a beautiful sight. I built L'Manburg and I tore it down. [Deep breath.] These men. They never earned anything themselves. I built them up and I tore them down. It was mine to destroy. (1:30:50)

10/10 - Holy fucking shit

[kayyybenson]

How You Met - SVU Gang

Olivia, Alex, and Amanda are mother AU because I personally would love to have one of them be my mother

Sonny Carisi:

    Ironically, you used to be a lawyer. You came from a rich family that always pushed you to do your best and moved from Boston to New York after secretly attending the police academy behind your parents' backs.

    I walked into the squad room, Liv had told me ahead of time that there were some changes but I wasn't expecting a whole new seating arrangement. "Y/N, I know you and Amanda work harmoniously together but we have a new guy so you're going to break him in." She gestured towards the man sitting across from my desk. I placed my stuff down and sat, ignoring him. I wasn't trying to be rude I just had a lot of paperwork to do

    "Nice to meet you, I'm Dominick Carisi Jr. but you can just call me Sonny." He stretched his long arm across the desk and I shook it.

    "Y/N L/N. I'm guessing you're my new partner, I'm happy to be working with you, Sonny."

Nick Amaro:

    You met him at the same time Amanda met him when he walked into the squad room with a full beard. Funny thing, you moved to New York long before Amanda, you were getting tired of Kim's shit. 

    "When are you going to stop bringing new people in?" Liv asked Cragen, it was almost like she wanted to be fired.

    "When you get over Elliot. Look at Y/N, she's recovering well." Cregen pointed at me.

    "I'm only doing well because Amanda is here. I'm telling you she can read my thoughts." I whispered the last part, earning a smack on the back of the head.

    "Well don't hate me for this, I'm partnering you with a Narcotics transfer, and Amanda, you'll be with Fin."

    "Jesus Christ, another one? Was Fin, not enough?" 

    "That was uncalled for." Fin jokingly glared as the elevator opened.

    "Oh wow," I mumbled when I saw my new partner I walked up to him and introduced myself. "I'm Y/N Rollins, you must be the narcotics transfer."

    "Is it that obvious?" I nodded and he chucked. "Nick Amaro,"

    "Careful Amaro, your new partner has a bad temper." Amanda chuckled when Nick turned to you shocked.

Rafael Barba:

    You were an elementary school teacher, first grade specifically. You met Rafael when one of your student's parents raped you for giving their kid a bad grade on a test. 

    "You know I'll never be able to return to my job after this, right?" I frowned and looked at the SVU captain.

    "Well, not at that school. But maybe another school would take you." The door opened and a man in a suit came in. 

    "Ms. L/N? I'm Rafael Barba, the ADA." 

    "Nice to meet you." I scooted away, scared he would touch me.

    "Now, I understand what happened to you, so let's win this. Yeah? Tell me what happened."

    "Well, I had requested for this parent to come in for a conference because his daughter was failing all her tests, he agreed and when he was in my classroom he pinned me against the wall and raped me, he kept saying 'no one fails my daughter, this is your fault'." 

    "Well, we got enough from the rape kit to arrest him, we just need a positive ID from you." I nodded, anything to but this perv away.

Olivia Benson:

    You were found in a pimp house that the squad infiltrated, and you were around 5 years old. Your mother pimped women out to "Give them better lives"

    "Everybody get down!" I heard a voice yell, and people started rushing in and pushing people down. I quickly ran to the corner of the room, trying to escape the chaos. A woman came up to me and crouched down to my height.

    "Hi sweetie, my name is Olivia, what's yours?"

    "Y-Y/N."

    "Nice to meet you Y/N. Don't worry, you're safe now." They brought me to a hospital to check me out, and once they were done they sat me in a room with toys, No one else was there though, it was just me, in a room, all alone. I decided to draw with some crayons. The door opened and the same women from before came in and sat across from me. "Hi Y/N, do you remember me?" 

    "Yeah, you're Olivia, you arrested my mommy." I continued working on my drawing.

    "Do you know why I arrested your mommy?" 

    "Because she sold women. I was next. She said I was going to a nice man named Josh."

    "Well, you're not anymore. What are you drawing?"

    "Me and Josh. Mommy had us meet, and said I had to be broken in."

    "Sweetie, did they make you do something you didn't want to do?" I rapidly nodded.

    "Something was shoved inside of me, I said it hurt and to stop, but they didn't."

Amanda Rollins:

Amanda adopted you in Georgia, after a case that involved your older sister. You were waiting in a room in the hospital for your 'new mother'

    "Hey honey, how are you holding up?" I recognized the woman, she asked me questions about my sister,

    "Good." I made one of my Barbies hit the other one.

    "Your doll says otherwise."

    "She's fine, just a bruise." I colored a purple mark on her forehead. "If she doesn't recover I'll have a nice burial for her."

    "....Okay... Let's go home, okay?" 

Alex Cabot:

    You were the daughter of a rapist, he would use you to lure women in, they would come to babysit you then he would pull them into the bedroom. You were a main witness in the trial, going against the person who gave you food and shelter.

    "Okay, are you sure you can do this?" Detective Benson rubbed my back, we were in the hallway, waiting for Detective Stabler to come to get me to testify.

    "Yeah-yeah totally." The door opened and we were motioned to come in. "No turning back now."

    "The people call Y/N Hewwitt to the stand." I took a deep breath and sat down, bad enough that I was testifying against my own father but the crowd staring at me just made it so much worse. "How old are you Miss Hewwitt?" The blonde ADA asked. I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out, I could feel his eyes on me, and when I looked over he was giving me 'the look'

     "I-I uh,"

    "Answer the question Miss Hewwitt." The judge badgered.

    "I-" my chest got tight, "my-" tears blurred my vision, "10." I pushed out trying to calm myself.

    "Stop this madness, my daughter is clearly in distress." My father tried to trick everyone, oh how I wanted to see him get locked away.

    "The witness is dismissed."

    "No-" I wheezed out. "No-I-I saw it! He did it!" 

    "Miss Cabot, control your witness." The ADA came over to talk to me but when she touched me I broke even more.

    "Don't touch me! He would look for babysitters, tell them he had a 10-year-old daughter who needed to be looked after while he was at work, he would pretend to leave then come back and drag her into the bedroom. She would beg him to stop, he did that to at least 8 babysitters." There was a pause before my father jumped from his seat.

    "You little slut! I gave you a place to live and you ratted me out! You will die for this, just like your mother!" He was dragged out and I started sobbing the ADA held her arms out to me, I accepted this time and sobbed into her chest while she rubbed my back and promised I'd never have to do that again.

[manie-sans-delire-x]

Well. To me it looks less like spreading awareness, and more like a downplaying how competent, resilient and self-preserving women can be. What about those who successfully win against their rapist in court? Rare, I know, but it happens. What about those who not only successfully escape domestic violence, but heal and manage to get into a happy relationship? You’re so focused on brutality, it’s unrealistic. It’s like you secretly want women to be abused…

😂 Youre stupid af. Jesus christ. Unfollow me.

"Rare I know" So you yourself admit over 95% of cases never see justice. "Unrealistic" to reblog news articles and studies of things that actually happen. Youre downplaying reality.

"How can bad things be true when 0.5% of the time justice is achieved and good things happen??"

Stupid fuck.

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Semifinals

Propaganda why Oscar is insufferable:

"“I want to be famous!” Ok, what for? “Whatever means I don’t have to work.”"

"Selfish, shallow, vain, materialistic, reckless, irresponsible, etc. Doesn't even have an aesthetically pleasing design, he's horrible to look at (like every other character in the movie tbf) so bro has literally 0 redeeming qualities. That one shrimp with the ridiculous sob story should have been the protag instead"

"His entire personality revolves around being shallow and selfish, to the point he sees no issue with lying for his own material gain, in the process shamelessly screwing over his best friend/future girlfriend -- she gave him her grandmother's valuable precious pearl to pay off his debts and get out of trouble, because she cares about him, and instead he fucking gambled it all on a horse race on impulse because he overheard some rando saying the race was rigged and guaranteed to win (surprise, it wasn't). Never really faces appropriate consequences for any of his actions. Gets an undeserved happy ending to top it all off, when really he deserves to suffer a little and learn a lesson.

Also has one of the ugliest anthro-animal designs I've ever seen so he's insufferable to even LOOK at, jesus christ."

Propaganda why Richard Rahl is insufferable:

"The character always, always has to be Right and Moral and Good. He always knows more than: his wife, organized religion, any and all government orders that he didn't set up personally. While he starts out reasonable enough in the first few books, he slowly devolves into the author's Ayn Rand-fantasy stand-in. In every book there's always a huge monologue that's secretly about how bad (fantasy) communism is.

Richard is also hypocritical. He will flip flop on issues and change with the whims of the author, but the narrative always portrays him as in the right no matter the context."

"Protagonist of the most idiotic book series ever, literally wins by sheer dumb luck and being too stupid to plan as the world bends around him. His girlfriend keeps getting kidnapped so he can rescue her, despite allegedly being powerful. He’s a fantasy Ayn Rand follower. He inherited a sword and the Most Powerful Magic Combination Ever which he can’t be trained in because he needs to learn by instinct. Every woman ever falls in love with him or is determined to help him by prophecy. He gets captured and tortured by several bdsm women (author fetish, blatantly) and doesn’t even appreciate it. He gradually seizes more and more control over he world than even his evil tyrant dad, then throughs a fit and runs off into the woods to sulk, leaving them to a violent conquest, when people object to this via voting. He’s inexplicably good at death football. I can keep going."

"Literally the oc in the author’s shitty Ayn Rand fantasy novel. All the women want him, he does magic by instinct. He cannot be trained because he has super rare magic that nobody else has had for millenia. His birth has been prophecied for centuries. Every new book features a new problem only he can solve by being too instinctly good at magic and untrained. He comes up with the Wizard’s Rules of Magic by dumb luck.

In one book he defeats communism and hopelessness by crafting the perfect statue of his girlfriend Kahlan, who is a way cooler character but still a Mary Sue & an idiot. The statue is so cool & beautiful & well made for the joy of making (unlike work under communism), that he sparks a riot and toppled the evil empire. By building a statue."

[fragileizywriting]

watched a recap of a romance erotica book called twisted love and i'd never heard of it up until like yesterday when i watched the video bc i have no idea what's going on in the tik tok world as well as the book world because i'm very bad at doing my hobbies. anyway, jesus christ what a wreck of a book. i can fix this. i can make a better adaption. i can write this story but better.

HERES HOW WE CAN STILL WIN, (felinette version woohoo o/ !!)

marinette, our main character, is a college student going for fashion design in paris at the age of 25. she's bright and bubbly and cheery, who works very hard at school and part-times at her parents bakery. she has a boyfriend— well, had a boyfriend— adrien agreste, known socialite, who had spoken wax of poetry over and over and over about how much he loved her, telling her that as a graduation present he'd buy her a boutique, an apartment, a car...... he decides to ghost everyone in his life after a breakdown, seemingly moving out of the city, for reasons that i haven't figured out just yet. i just need him to kick himself out of this city.

marinette, of course, is heartbroken. this sucks. she's grieving so hard.

enter felix, adrien's identical twin brother who has nothing to do with this, barely existed in her life up until now, but is attempting to snatch his brother right back from whatever dumb, impulsive ridiculous thing he did— adrien had a girlfriend, a solid apartment, a solid life, adrien had mentioned that he was so close to asking marinette to marry him...— finally knocks on marinette's door one afternoon. identical twin yet marinette has barely talked to him; the man's busier than anyone should be reasonably allowed to be, and isn't much of a sunshine as adrien is. i will routinely mention in this book that the light in marinette's livingroom/dining room makes felix's hair look whispy and nearly white against adrien's sure-fire sun-like flare of hair. even though felix's eyes are green just like adrien's, they're somber, and almost bluish at times.

marinette, obviously, wants nothing to do with felix.

"please leave," she tells him, because she's tired and lonely and is craving yet another box of icecream she keeps in the freezer for— well, moments like these, really. apparently. she's going to cry herself asleep for the fourth week in a row. girlboss behavior. "i kind of don't want to deal with your entire family right now."

"i understand," felix says, and he doesn't look all that convincing, because the man is standing there, awkwardly, hands fisted at his sides trying to figure out how to speak to her in a way that implies more than 'i've only ever seen you for a few hours every christmas when adrien invites family over and i'm the only family he has because our parents are all levels of fucked up and we don't really need to talk about this in depth right now'. and then, as a garnish, 'i've always been really thankful that adrien miraculously turned out fine from the whole ordeal considering that i had to go to therapy for multiple years, decades, in fact, to deal with our family, and i always thought he was fine everytime i'd see him probably four times a year, but apparently not, at all, and now i'm stuck dealing with his grieving... ex? girlfriend? ex??? and i don't know how to deal with women at all because i am an introvert the size of the moon but i'm really trying, here'. "i just don't think it's best to leave you alone."

"i'm fine," she replies, completely ignorant to his inner monologue. "i can handle myself. i'm an adult, felix."

and yet felix has the audacity to look— kicked, really. "i'm aware."

"could you give me some space?"

"of course." and then, because felix just apparently is all sorts of weird tricks up his business sleeves, blurts out: "not as much as i've always given you, though. right?"

"what do you mean?"

"i don't feel comfortable just leaving you completely on your own." there is an attempt for marinette to refute, to open her mouth and mention that she's still twenty-five, she's an adult, she's not a baby, and felix refutes it with a hand up in the air. "you're grieving because of my brother and i don't like the idea of not doing something about it."

and so, through reasons that i cannot at all comprehend how i will get here but i have to if i want to match (somewhat) the plot ("plot") points of the original book i'm rewriting, felix ends up (temporarily) moving into an apartment next door, for no other reason other than to make marinette feel safer and comfortable. just stick with me. ideally, there would be a plan of some kind here. for now, since this is only a tumblr post, i can just handwave that away. that's not my problem just now.

some of the main fixes i would make sure to change immediately is to change felix from a "ruthless alpha-lone-wolf dog behavior" to "i'm adrien's older brother (they are still twins but felix will routinely mention he's still the oldest born) and i feel a psychological, traumatic need to take care of him because i can't let my younger brother have any trauma from our parents, i refuse, i refuse, and if that means keeping his life together for him while he's gone, i'll do my best" and that means making sure that marinette is, at the very least, fine and not dead. that's a good plan. but as he spends more and more time with marinette, the more he realizes his mistake; he likes her as a friend, likes her a lot more, is impressed at her skills and slowly starts falling in love with her which is honestly very useful.

at some point, i'd have to have them have a solid "i'm not using you to replace him," she cries. "i just— love you." conversation. it's an important one. and a segue to the back half of the book that is just sex.

another thing that i would change from the original story is the ridiculous b plot of dark secrets and betrayal and incidents, because that's not necessary. i could carry this book entirely on sex alone as well as mutual pining. and felix's sad, kittenlike eyes whenever he's upset.

okay i'm done for now i gotta go clean the kitchen. please enjoy this

[modern-inheritance]

That Galbatorix Won AU that will not be written

I love how like 6-8 or more of yall individual people liked my Galbatorix Won AU post things while those posts also state that y'all are probably never going to see it in full.

Like it's not even fully fleshed out. It's word vomit on a drive doc that I can't really look at right now because the dissociation is real jesus fucking christ. Maybe I SHOULD ask a psychiatrist about this depth of method-writing(???).

I will say this is the gist. There are themes of self deletion, implied nasty things, and it's just not a happy thing really. No reread, we die like women with migraines.

Arya convinces Brom to flee to an unknown location before the Urubaen start. He does so. Galbatorix wins. Eragon eventually snaps in an unexpected way after Arya is broken due to being essentially forced to mercy kill Glenwing after she was subjected to let's just say Galbatorix level abuses on all levels of physical and mental planes and she, mute and carrying around her dead Battle Mate's arm, nonverbally asks Eragon to kill her to end this, as she's being used to hurt the people she loves and her continued existence is more harmful than good.

Eragon's snap is to use formless magic to essentially separate Arya, as a whole, from the magic of the Ancient Language. Don't ask me how nor the repercussions in full. But she is essentially 'dead' to magic. Galbatorix cannot use the name of names now to have hold over her and what she does and can't even scry her. She cannot cast magic, but magic cannot be casted on her either. Spells targeting her do not produce results. She is a void and dead in the eyes of the Ancient Language.

Somehow, don't ask how, Eragon gets Arya out of Uru'baen and naturally forces himself through some fun psych to believe he did indeed kill her. Everyone else believes him.

Arya wears the pieces of Glen's arm. Just wanders Alagaesia until she wanders into the Spine to die. Turns out it wasn't that, it was more mystery forces at work and/or her subconscious thinking that it would be a safe place, and she finds, SURPRISE! Brom living with the Urgals that managed to slip away even further north into the Spine. She's mute, dissociates every couple of hours to just sorta wander off, Claustrophobic/domaphobic so she never goes inside Brom's hut or urgal tents, and still can't even get herself to not bolt backwards if Brom comes within 10 feet of her. She is not the same person Brom saw last. There's bits and pieces of the Arya he knew, but she's unable to hold those pieces together longer than maybe a handful of hours at a time and still can't speak when she does. At most she can touch his hand during those moments, try and mouth words, and write things down in frantic attempts to preserve her sanity and memories of her life before. These moments get longer and longer over time, eventually until she's 'back,' but she never fully regains speech and still has much of her problems with buildings and has to be the one to initiate hugs or walk towards Brom rather than the other way around. She's never again really, truely, the same person.

Brom and Arya convert Riders signs to their own homesign and just start living. Arya frequently hallucinates Glen and 'speaks' with him through sign, spends days staring off hugging her Glenwing-mech-arm encased forearm to her chest, and has lost most of her fight. Brom takes his new mission on as taking care of her, helping her heal and find her fire again, and to once again be the last Old Guard to remember true history rather than Galbatorix's fucked up version.

There is no happy ending. Only Brom and Arya, the way MIC started.

And no, this will not be fully written. Ever. You guys may sometimes get little bits and pieces that will be labeled as such but haha I cannot take the weird fugue/dissociation this version of Arya brings over me and the absolute trauma of losing everything twice and being powerless to stop it that Brom's internal voice brings. Garzvog is cool though. I like this version of him. He's surprisingly nice.

[clarajohnson]

the magicians s1e11

threesome episode aka best episode of television of all time

so we've got the virgo blade and the leo. whole knifey zodiac do we think?

okay this is where i start to see the margo i love dearly. she and eliot are unbelievably reasonable and pragmatic about the deal-striking (also alice. malice 4ever.) and it doesn't read as a lack of emotion to me. particularly for margo it feels like she sees it as a weighing of consequences and she knows it's going to be worse if they don't do this. she's smart and cares about the greater good!

i always forget how gross this show can be until they do something like the classroom death scene.

"i'm just a little shaky, i don't like dying" / "i am fabulous, aren't i?" these women are so the entire world to me.

"i agree with quentin." "that's because he blows you!"

all free trader beowulf scenes make me nervous because i know what's going to happen and it makes me desperately sad

i don't object to the read that julia is "god-touched" but i wouldn't ever accept that as an "explanation" of things i think are part of her inherent character. like, she's smart and talented and hard-working and resilient because she's julia, not because she's god-touched. yes?

"i'm in too. i heard the word illegal."

ah horribly brutal episode poor penny's mentor

"magic missile? that's like straight up dungeons and dragons" me every time i use magic missile playing straight up dungeons and dragons

okay but what do we think q plays in dnd

"what if we got guns?" and q's "no, fillory is a pristine non-industrialized society" prime directive blah blah blah bullshit is so crazy to me. margo is so very, very right. she is SO RIGHT to care about their lives-- even if they wouldn't win that way-- over q's concern for a world that, frankly, he doesn't know is really real, just loves because fillory was his childhood.

there is something deeply funny about the picture they make in julia's doorway-- q and alice and el and margo standing there like a school field trip, which is exactly what you know kady thinks they look like.

i do feel bad for penny! but he picks some shit music to dissociate to!

"giving a shit about somebody you give a shit about doesn't evaporate the second they fuck up."

emotion bottles my beloved

i like that emotions are hot pink. they would be, i think.

i like your sweater. i saw no reason not to share.

unfortunately there is no way in hell that an unfeeling q (and therefore, i have to think, a not-socially-anxious q) would use the phrase "fuck some shit up"

jesus christ in heaven the first few seconds with the emotions back are going to get to me in a major majorrrrrr way. el being perfectly capable of repressing his emotions immediately. (well. sort of.) alice's first impulse being to emphasize that she loves quentin, loves him so much, and q wouldn't have said it back but he can't help saying it back and also telling her that he's all alone. margo asking, in the saddest little baby voice in the world, why aren't we friends anymore, el? everyone here should go to therapy.

poor miraculous julia i love you so much i'm so sorry about everything that's about to happen. very interested in olu calling her her "beautiful daughter." i don't think that's an everyone term and i do think it's fitting that jules gets it.

alice giggling and high-fiving penny and hugging him... best girl in history.

also it's kind of nuts that you can't use your emotions in battle magic. like, that's the implication. and it seems like the inverse to what i would have expected.

they walk through margo's bedroom door and i am seated popcorn and an icee

there's this thing about you, q. you actually believe in magic. we all know it's real but you believe in it.

do we actually believe that margo's never loved something like that? i'm not really inclined to say that. honestly. just don't buy it.

eliot waugh man with the longest arms in the world

yes i do consider the threesome a kind of church service and yes i think it is deeply deeply awful, the consequences of that act for alice. how selfish and unthinking q was in that moment, even tho he is my beautiful baby son, it just kills me thinking about his willingness to do something like that despite the impact on alice.

YOU EVER THINK ABOUT HOW QUENTIN WAS THE ONE WHO KISSED ELIOT

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for March 18, 2024

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 11:29-31:(KJV): 29 He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind: and the fool shall be a servant to the wise of heart. 30 The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life, and he that winneth souls is wise. 31 Behold, the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth: much more the wicked and the sinner.

Thought for the Day

Verse 29 - Proverbs could be called a basic training manual for good relationships, providing incentives to live harmoniously with others. Selfishness is at the root of family break-ups. People can be so mean and irresponsible that even a family's natural love cannot endure it. Those who use and abuse their families eventually find that they will have nothing to do with them. Their inheritance will be as insubstantial as the wind. God meant for the family unit to be blessed and unified, not cursed and divided.

The last half of this verse tells us that those who are fools will end up serving those who are wise. In the Old Testament, the word for "fool" usually refers to one who is sinful, rebellious, and practices folly. The foolish are irresponsible and careless. Because of these traits, they are not able to obtain a good position in this life and they end up working in a servant capacity. This is not to say that servant jobs are inferior. Many successful businessmen and women took servant jobs so that they could go to college, which made it possible for them to obtain better jobs. Others worked their way from the bottom of a company until they were promoted to the top. Hard work is something that a fool will avoid since his aim is for immediate gratification. That is why he will never attain a better status but will have to be under someone else's supervision as a servant.

Verse 30 - As the fruit of the tree of life in the Garden of Eden gave eternal life, so the fruit of the Spirit in a Christian's life should lead others to eternal life in Christ. Each of us is an influence for good or evil - the choice is ours. If everyone claiming to be a Christian truly lived according to Christ's commands, we could quickly win the whole world for Christ. It breaks God's heart to see His children behave like unbelievers. He desires that we be "fishers of men." If we are wise, we will make soul-winning a priority in our lives (Daniel 12:3). We can do this by praying for and witnessing to those who do not know Christ and by supporting ministries that do so.

Verse 31 - Because we reap what we sow, we do not have to wait until we get to heaven to receive rewards. By sowing righteousness, we shall have rewards in this life as well as in heaven. One of heaven's greatest rewards will be meeting those for whom we prayed or helped lead to Christ. Every soul whom we lead to Christ will be eternally grateful for our witness. This should inspire us to pray, witness, and give.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you to those who have prayed for me over the years. Although I may not know many of the people whom You have had to pray for me, I am thankful for those prayers, and I know that I may meet these same people in heaven. Help us all to be faithful in interceding for others who may be needing special prayer this very day. What a wonderful privilege to pray for others. Increase our prayer life, as this is the way You have designed to channel blessings to the earth. Prayer is an act of love, so may I love others today in this manner. Bless Your faithful saints who have prayed and stood in faith to see their family members come safely home to heaven to be with You. I ask this in the blessed holy name of Jesus. Amen. Steven P. Miller

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

My DC Cinematic Universe: Superman (Part II)

Chapter Two: Behind Every Superman

There's nobody quite as ubiquitous in the world of Superman as Lois Lane. Even in the 1930s, when women's rights were lefts, Lois made herself a powerful force and competitor for Clark Kent. Yes, she's what I would call the Inevitable Love Interest by definition, since every Superman worth his salt has a Lois that he ends up with, but that doesn't lessen her as a character...when done correctly.

So, OK, who is Lois Lane, down to her essence? Well, origin-wise, she's an army brat raised by her mother Elenor/Elinore Lane and strict military father, Sam Lane, alongside sister Lucy Lane. She's a no-nonsense, award-winning writer and reporter for the Daily Planet, and she's all about that story. Lois is, essentially, the prototypical female reporter in the same vein as the real life Nellie Bly. And she's one of the most unchanging characters in comic books, throughout her 84-year history. That's right, she's as old as Superman, making her the longest-lasting love interest character in the history of comic books. She's also one of the few female comic book characters that's gotten...well, a modicum of respect, frankly.

As a character, she's essentially always been put on equal footing with men, and with Clark Kent. That's a bit of a blanket statement, but is still tonally correct. Obviously, she was still prone to the sexism of the time. Her first comic book series was more about her connection to Superman, and rivalry with love interest Lana Lang (more on her later), than it was about her career. Despite this, though, she never lost sight of that career, and she was always treated with some respect. I mean, in case you didn't see what I just wrote, she got her own comic book series! Sure, it was a product of the romance comic boom to a certain degree; and sure, maybe it did some things that aged...

...EXTREMELY poorly, Jesus Christ; but she was still a pioneering comic book character in her own right. She's progressed quite a bit since that point, but she's always kept true to her roots. So, before I move on, let me establish the following about what I think makes a good Lois Lane. Your idea of the character may be different, but that's OK; this is just my version based on the books I've read that feature her.

Lois cares about the truth above all things. She's a journalist because she believes that the truth is important, and she will do whatever she can to expose it and bring it to light. Even in the sexist sixties stories where Lois was pining over Superman, she still tried pretty often to figure out who he was in his everyday life. She doesn't like being lied to, but she's also willing to recognize when truth is not the best option. As a reporter, she's used to withholding certain facts in order to protect someone, but she's never willing to outright lie at the same time. Honestly, I think Lois' dedication to the truth is one of the things Clark likes most about her.

Lois is a realist, seeing the world in shades of gray. I've talked a lot about character characters seeing in grayscale or black-and-white, and that's because it's an important metric for the world of Superman. Clark is aware of the greys, as I mentioned in the last post, but his optimism tends to make things just a touch more monochromatic. Lois, on the other hand, sees things a lot more realistically. This is in part because of her military upbringing, and in part because of her career in journalism. More importantly, she never labels anything as "good" or "bad" until she gets all the facts about the situation and context. Sometimes it does turn out to be that simple, and sometimes it doesn't. Either way, Lois will find out where in the gradient somebody tends to be, and will act accordingly as a result.

Lois is dedicated to a fault, and tends to get in over her head. Lois, as a love interest comic book character, tends to get lumped into the category of damsel-in-distress...A LOT. And while that's a reductive and irritating stereotype for female characters...I think it actually makes sense for Lois. The problem with being Lois Lane is that you're extremely stubborn and dedicated to a story, and thus are unwilling to let go of something, even when it could prove dangerous for you. Now, Lois can read situations appropriately, but she's also not afraid to shy away from the more potentially harmful stuff. So, as a result, she tends to find herself in a bit more trouble than originally intended. I imagine that, before Superman comes along, Lois has been in a hostage situation or two, maybe stuck overseas in a warzone for a little bit, and is probably a well-known name to the local Metropolis PD (who I'll get to in another chapter).

Lois is a strong, independent woman...and she loves Clark. Here's the main thing about Lois Lane. She's stubborn, independent, head-strong, dedicated, street-smart, persuasive, savvy, and powerful. All things that make a good reporter. However, in relationships, she's kind of a lot. Before meeting Clark, I imagine that Lois was happily and perennially single. I would also imagine that she didn't date a ton, and didn't need to date a ton. She's a career woman, and she's happy that way. However...Clark Kent is not only a colleague and a competitor who constantly beats her to the punch, he's also a bit of a mystery. And working together as often as they do, Lois understandably caught feelings for him, while also dealing with her feelings for Superman at the same time. But here's a point to be made: Lois was dating Clark, not Superman. After the '60s settled, and Lois was allowed to not be solely defined by Superman, she began to develop feelings for Clark Kent instead. And those feelings were and are extremely strong. Like I said, Lois is strong and independent, absolutely. But that doesn't mean she doesn't rely on Clark for his compassion, his challenging nature, his relative calmness, and his ability to ground her and fuel her at the same time. The Lois-Clark relationship is extremely important, and I will die on that hill. They are genuinely the best relationship in comics.

With all of that said and done, I wanna look at previous adaptations of the character, before I go into what I think a cinematic Lois Lane should be. Keep reading for more of my rabid rambling.

Lois Lane: Adapted

Because of her central role in the Superman mythos, she's been adapted into nearly every Superman-based production, dating back to the original 1940s film serials and radio productions, as well as the 1950s television series Adventures of Superman. But those were essentially what you'd expect of Lois, with two actresses (Phyllis Coates for season 1, and Noel Neill afterwards) playing the hard-nosed reporter and compassionate champion of the people, respectively. Haven't seen that series, so I can't really comment. However, I will comment on one of the best live-action versions of the character, played by Margot Kidder in the Reeves-led films.

Margot's Lois Lane is determined, lively, witty, and curious to a fault. I think I can say with little argument that she's the best Lois Lane in film. Maybe not in live action in general, but definitely in film. She's a little too damsel-in-distress-y, even for somebody who thinks that role is one that Lois fits, and maybe a little more reckless than is reasonable for a reporter, but I will stand-by this as the best cinematic version. I also quite like her relationship with Clark and Superman, especially as it evolves through the first two films. This version also established the fact that Lois, despite being a great writer, can't spell. She's a charming iteration of the character, even in a film that's already extremely charming. One of these days, I'll talk more about the wonderful Superman: The Movie, but not today. Back to Lois.

Kate Bosworth, who takes up the role in Singer's Superman Returns, is...there? That's almost the best thing I can say about her, because she's an extremely boring version of the character, despite literally being the same Lois Lane that Margot Kidder had played nearly 30 years prior. She's a hard-nosed reporter, I guess, and she gets into as much trouble as Kidder's lane does, but she's a VERY different version of the character. Bitter and acrid towards Superman (y'know, because she abandoned her while she was pregnant with his child, so...yeah, fair enough), Bosworth's iteration of the character made her so very unlikeable. Like, I get it, but that movie's story is so flawed that it actively ruins Lois and Superman individually and together. So many issues. In any case, this Lois is bitter and boring. The mother angle in interesting, admittedly, but doesn't save the character.

Amy Adams is not Lois Lane. Full fucking stop. In the entirety of the Snyderverse, she never once became Lois for me, despite being a hard-nosed reporter who tirelessly pursues an angle in Man of Steel and Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice. She has the external trappings of being Lois, but she's too...soft? Is that the right word here? She lacks the wit and spunk I think of with Lois and really isn't too much more than a love interest for Clark. Sure, I do love the fact that she figures out who he is basically immediately, because I think Lois actually is smart enough to discern Superman's identity on her own. But here's the thing...she's Amy Adams. It's nearly impossible for me to see her as anything else. Maybe it's the red hair? That's at least a part of it, because she definitely doesn't look or dress the part.

Another part of it is the fact that she doesn't talk back. Ever. She's taken captive or held hostage a bunch of times in those movies, but she always just rolls with it, with little fight or resistance. Lois would fight back, or at least talk back. Definitely wouldn't go down without a fight, and that's basically all this Lois does. She always feels helpless, and I shouldn't feel like Lois is ever helpless. She's an army brat! You really think Sam Lane wouldn't have taught her to kick people's asses in self-defense? She's just too passive, and being Amy Adams really doesn't help.

So, yeah, Margot's my favorite cinematic Lois...but not my favorite live-action Lois. That role absolutely goes to...

Here's the truth: I haven't seen too much of Elizabeth Tulloch as Lois, but what I have seen I very much like. She's definitely playing a more experienced and open version of the character, while also being the determined and passionate person I love to watch. I really should watch more of Superman and Lois (I've kind of soured on the CW shows, for various reasons), but I do love what I've seen of this Lois. Plus, she's a better version of mom Lois than Bosworth's version, looks more like a comic book version than almost any other version (especially Amy Adams' version), and still maintains the toughness I expect of a Lois Lane. A+.

And for the record, I like Erica Durance's version a lot as well! We got to know her over the course of 7 years on Smallville, and I liked her more and more as time went on. As a fully fleshed out and interesting version of the character, I think she fits that Clark very well, and is faithful to the character as a whole. A- for Erica Durance!

But even then, none of these are my favorite adaptation of Lois. Unsurprisingly...

It's Dana Delany that wins the prize for me. This is my prototypical Lois Lane, taking the best iterations of the character from film and page. Danger-prone but unafraid of danger, hardnosed and always looking for a story, antagonistic to Clark until getting to know and care for him...this is essentially my Lois. If you haven't seen Superman: The Animated Series, I highly recommend it for its adaptations of various characters. Won't be the last time it appears on this list, that's for sure.

In truth, most animated versions of Lois Lane are pretty good, not gonna lie. Basically every one of them has something of merit, but Delany's is still my favorite. Runner-up is probably Rebecca Romjin's version in The Death of Superman and Reign of the Supermen, which is an underrated pair of films, in my opinion.

But with all of that said...

My Lois Lane

In my theoretical Superman film, Lois Lane will be introduced on the job, which is pretty standard in films. As I've said before, she's a witty, strong, passionate, stubborn truth-seeker, and that'll be apparent throughout this film. Her attraction towards Superman is essentially her attraction to a story or a mystery. She'll get closer to him throughout...but they actually won't interact all that much. Instead, the two will occasionally cross paths while Lois is investigating the villains of the film. But in reality, she won't spend nearly as much time with Superman. However, she will be spending quite a lot of time with Clark Kent. And while Lois and Superman will have some conversations, it's the relationship between Lois and Clark that I'm more interested in exploring. We all know that Lois and Clark get together, but we should be invested in their relationship beyond simple expectation. We should actually WANT them to get together.

In truth, my idea of Lois Lane is pretty simple. It should be somebody who's able to pull of determination and hard-headedness, while also being witty and enjoyable to watch and listen to. Lois should be a fast-talker, able to get somebody to admit to something without even realizing they've done it. Persuasive and perceptive, quick on her feet and quick-witted, street-smart and savvy, etc. We should enjoy watching Lois on screen, and she should command a presence. When Lois is on screen, she should share focus with Clark, not be perceived as the second-string. You pay attention when Lois enters a room, because she keeps you on your toes. When she enters a LexCorp press event, Luthor makes sure that ONLY HE talks to her, because anybody else is at risk of revealing company secrets to her accidentally. THAT is my Lois Lane.

Oh, and one more thing. I don't go into fancasting, because I don't know enough people off the top of my head, but I do want to mention something in these posts: Lois...might be Latina?

I say maybe for a few reasons. One, in recent comics (the New 52, yes, but still), it's revealed that Lois' mother is at least partially Latina, but that's never been fully confirmed. Two, the DC Bombshells version of the character is pointedly Cuban-American. And for the record, if you haven't read Bombshells, it's a HELL of a lot of fun , and well-worth your time in reading. Lois (AKA Eloisa in this universe) takes the role of a teenaged newsie and budding journalist helping the titular Bombshells in their various efforts throughout World War II. And in case you were wondering, yes, she ends up in a relationship with Supergirl. But yeah, she's specifically Cuban-American.

The other reason I say maybe is because, to be honest, there is no evidence for any of this outside of alternate universes or the New 52. So, is Lois necessarily Latina? No. But, uh...why the fuck not? I'm not gonna stand here and say that Lois has to be white, because there's accidentally nothing in the comics that limits her racial background other than tradition. Point being, whoever is the best should get the job. No matter the race, if they can fit those character traits I've put down, they should get the job. Duh. If anybody has any suggestions, I'd love to hear them!

Well...Jesus. Now that that's over, it's time to move on to the parental figures in Superman's life, both living...and dead.

Index: Superman

Part I: Why I Love Superman

Part II: On Lois Lane

Part III: The Kents

Part IV: The 'Rents

Part V: The...Frendts?

Part VI: Lex Luthor

Part VII: The Real Villains

Part VIII: Superman's Rogues Gallery

Part IX: The Story - Act One

Part X: The Story (Acts Two and Three)

Part XI: The Story - Climax

Part XII: Epilogue (Part One)

Part XIII: Epilogue (Part Two)

[marvellousinternethideout]

Buffy the vampire Slayer.

Season 2

Ep 7 - Lie to me

Please don't kill the kid, I hate it. Leave the kids alone

Drusilla and angel... Do they have a past? Interesting.

Oh for fuck sake! Not again! Why does buffy walks in the worst time ever. Now its angel and Drusilla. Great.

Sometimes Cordelia needs to shut up. Girl, just don't.

A new guy, billy ford, buffy's giant 5th-grade crush. Welp he's either gonna be our new fav guy or die in this episode.

Lmao Xander, you are funny. Also, willow that song is not about fat guys.

Jealousy jealousy all around. Tension all around here. Angel jealous, love it.

Ford knows everything. What do you mean you know about vampire and that she's the slayer!? WTF MAN!

He's a bad guy, I am sure of it. He's a vampire, maybe...? Or he wants to be one...?

Awww, angel is jealous. I love men get jealous in shows or books.

I love awkward mess willow. She's me and I love it.

Dont trust the ford guy. I know he's cute buffy but cute guys are trouble. Stick to women.

Spike and drusilla/drusilla's relationship is creepy .

This ford guy is totally crazy and dumb. Wanna be a vampire, just die.

Jesus Angel is dramatic, "Do you love me?", "maybe you shouldn't ", just shut up.

Jesus fucking Christ, Angel. What he did to Drusilla is pure evil. Poor girl. I hope she gets to torture and kill him. Wtf man.

Xander: "Angel was in your room?", Willow:- "Ours is a forbidden love". God I love willow. She's my favorite .

Man, buffy really has the worst taste in men. None of them are good. Angel(his fucked up past), billy ford, the creepy cemetery guy, the college guy who was a reptile worshipper and in sacrifice cult. Girl, maybe get some therapy at this point,.

Spike is kinda hot and I think I need some therapy now.

Oh OH, this ford guy is max from Rosewell(or whatever it's called), the one with insane chemistry between him and Liz. Lmao, never watched the show but I've watched gif's of them making out, which are...something 🤤🙈

Buffy for the win again.

Spike is gonna kill ford isn't he? Poor guy should've stayed in the Rosewell universe.

I kinda feel bad that ford he died. Poor guy was crazy.

I like this little moment between buffy and giles. It's emotional, raw and real.

B:- "does it get easy", G:- "what, life", B:- "yes", G:- "what do you want me to say", B:- "lie to me". Damn, I don't know why but it got me.

The last scene between giles and buffy, in the end, got me. I mean this show is pretty heavy and emotional at the times but I feel like it's gonna get much more from here.

Also, the "lie to me", episode title. Perfect for this episode. The theme of this episode was literally "lie to me", the conflict, the delusions, denials, characters lying to themselves. Ford, buffy, Giles, angel, all of them lying to themselves in different ways. Their pain and turmoil. Perfect.

Alright, another solid episode. Honestly, other than one or maybe two episodes, I've been pretty much invested in the show and haven't got bored at all.

I loved this episode. Little more sneek peek in angel's past, and drusilla and damn her past broke me, poor girl. Honestly she can go on a killing spree and I wouldn't blame her, the girl has been through hell. Angel ruined her life because he became obsessed with her? Fuck you angel.

Not sure how I feel about ford, he was a one episode guy so no attachment but like dude just die. It's kinda sad he spiralled that far away.

I really need more angel, I am not gonna lie, he doesn't even feel like a character to me anymore. It's weird how little or Barely he is in the show. I know he has his own show but I don't wanna watch that because ain't no way I am putting myself through cordelia and angel bullshit.

A really great ending to the episode, really liked that they touched on Buffy's emotional turmoil, even if it's briefly.

I guess that's all, loved the episode. Not much xander in it, it was more buffy and angel focus and angels past which included drusilla. Someone needs to get her justice because poor girl.

Anyway, see ya in the next one. Cheers 🥂

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

He Ever Liveth a prayer by Charles Spurgeon

Our God, we come to Thee by Jesus Christ who has gone within the veil on our behalf and ever liveth to make intercession for us. Our poor prayers could never reach Thee were it not for Him, but His hands are full of sweet perfume which makes our pleading sweet with Thee. His blood is sprinkled on the Mercy Seat and now we know that Thou dost always hear those who approach Thee through that ever blessed name.

We have deeply felt our entire unworthiness even to lift up our eyes to the place where Thine honor dwelleth. Thou hast made us to die to our self-righteousness. We pray now because we have been quickened. We have received a new life and the breath of that life is prayer. We have risen from the dead and we also make intercession through the life which Christ has given us. We plead with the living God with living hearts because He has made us to live.

Our first prayer shall be for those who do not pray. There is an ancient promise of Thine, “I am found of them that sought Me not; I said, Behold Me, behold Me, to a people that were not a people.” Prove the sovereignty of Thy grace, the priority of Thy power, which runs before the will of man, by making many willing in this the day of Thy power, and calling the things that are not as though they were. May the day come in which they that are in their graves shall hear the voice of God and they that hear shall live.

How very often Thou shewest Thy mighty power. O Lord, we bless Thee that the voice of God has called many to Christ. Those that are hardened have felt a softness stealing over their spirits. Those who were careless have been compelled to sit down and think. Those that were wrapped up in earthly things have been compelled to think of eternal things and thinking, have been disturbed and driven to despair, but afterwards led to Thee, even to Thee, dear Savior, who wast lifted high upon the cross that by Thy death sinners might live.

But, Lord, we next would pray that Thine own people should know somewhat of the quickening of the Spirit of God. Lord, we thank Thee for the very least life to God, for the feeblest ray of faith and glimmering of hope. We are glad to see anything of Christ in any man, but Thou hast come, O Savior, not only that we might have life, but that we might have it more abundantly, so our prayer is that there may be abundance of life.

O make Thy people strong in the Lord, in the power of His might. Lord, we find when we walk close with God that we have no desire for the world. When we get away altogether from the things that are seen and temporal, and live upon the invisible and eternal, then we shall have angels’ food. Nay, better than that, the food of Christ Himself, for his flesh is meat indeed and His blood is drink indeed. Then have we meat to eat that the world knoweth not of. We pray Thee raise all our brothers and sisters in Christ into the high and heavenly frame of mind in which they shall be in the world and not be of it. Whether they have little or much of temporal things, may they be rich in Thee and full of joy in the Holy Ghost, and so be blessed men and women.

We pray for some of Thine own people who seem to be doing very little for Thee. Lord, have mercy upon those whose strength runs towards the world and who give but little of their strength to the spread of the Gospel and the winning of souls. O let none of us fritter away our existence. May we begin to live since Christ hath died. May we reckon that because He died, we died to all the world, and because He lives, we live in newness of life. Lord, we thank Thee for that newness of life.

We praise Thy name for a new heaven and a new earth. We bless Thee that we now see what we never saw before and hear what we never heard before. Oh! that we might enter into the very secret place of this inner life. May we have as much grace as can be obtained. May we become perfect after the manner of Thy servant Paul, but still press forward, seeking still to be more and more conformed to the image of Christ.

Lord, make us useful. Oh! let no believer live to himself. May we be trying to bring others to Christ. May our servants, and work-people, and neighbors all know where we live, and if they do not understand the secret of that life, yet may they see the fruit of that life and may they ask, “What is this?” and inquire their way to Christ that they may be sanctified too. O Lord, we pray Thee visit Thy Church. May none of us imagine that we are living aright unless we are bringing others to the cross. Oh! keep us from worldliness. Keep us much in prayer. Keep us with the light of God shining on our forehead. May we be a happy people, not because screened from affliction, but because we are walking in the light of God.

Again we offer prayer for the many efforts that are scattered abroad today. May they be good wherever they are. We pray for all churches. Lord, revive them all. Wherever Christ is preached, may it be proved that He draws all men unto Him. May the preaching of Christ today be peculiarly efficacious. Oh! that Thou wouldst raise up many that would preach Christ, simply, boldly, and with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven. Send us better days. Send us days of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.

Lord, shake the earth with the power of God. Oh! that the heathen lands may hear the Word of God and live. But first convert the Church and then Thou wilt convert the world. Oh! deal with those that depart from the faith and grieve Thy Holy Spirit. Bring them back again to their first love and may Christ be fully and faithfully preached everywhere to the glory of His name. Now forgive us every iniquity. Now lift us beyond the power of every sin. Now lift us to pray and praise. Now make the home full of sacred power and last of all, come, Lord Jesus. This is the great wish of our souls. Even so, come quickly, come quickly, Lord Jesus. Amen and Amen.