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memo-blogs · 10 months ago

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Wish

An Astarion x Tav (any gender) fic (wholesome/SFW) ((Also, contains spoilers for the game)) (((15th July, 2024 - updated cover art)))

As the warm glow of the fading sun caressed the sky, he awoke. Alone, again. Astarion trekked up to the first floor window and peeked outside at the fading sun, longing more than for its warming rays. He looked at the note he had been carrying in his pocket again. The messy familiar scrawlings of his darling.

"There's something I have to do. Please wait for me. -Tav"

It had been days. Where were they? Why wouldn't they take him with them? His mood darkening with the sky, Astarion turned away from the window of his humble abode with Tav.

Or well, maybe "humble" wasn't the right word. Fabulous, well and tastefully adorned, just as Astarion liked it. Tav had smiled that adoring smile of theirs as they let Astarion decorate their home. "You always did have excellent taste, love", Tav had said as they helped Astarion put everything just so. They had been all around the world, looking for just the right drapes, cutlery, carpets, paintings and so on. Their home had two floors and a surprisingly large basement. The days spent finding and putting together the place were mundane and domestic, but full of so much warmth and gentleness that Astarion let a sigh escape his lips as he descended back to the basement floor, painfully aware.

Aware that while the house was exactly how he'd like his home to be, and that while he was excited to actually have a place to call home, it was just a place without Tav. Astarion walked the corridors adorning their nest with knick-knacks and memoirs from their travels together, chuckling at the vibrating dog-collar found in the Underdark, realising that the most at home he'd ever felt was with Tav. He opened their bedroom door and winced at the empty bed. Somehow, even though he had room to roam, and the right to leave the house every night, the empty loneliness of their shared bedroom reminded him of the year he spent in a coffin in isolation as punishment from Cazador. He shuddered. His back ached with the memory of abuse. But he also remembered how softly Tav had wrapped their arms around him, promising never again would he be trapped. And so far, Tav had more than kept their word.

He sat down on their bed. His and Tav's. Astarion absent-mindedly caressed the bedsheets, lost in thoughts.

Where was Tav? What could take this long? Why not take him with them? After all they'd been through together, didn't they trust him? Or… Maybe Tav needed to do something in daylight. Astarion felt the pang of loss. While being tadpoled by an elder brain had been a horror, he had enjoyed the unexpected side-effect of being able to walk in the sun, and missed it dearly. Maybe it was his elf blood that made him ache for the sun. Ah, but to be a vampire, and to walk in the sun! That had been power. That had been the first taste of delicious freedom for him.

Astarion let his thoughts wander back to Cazador's ritual of ascension. Would have sacrificing all those souls really been worth not having to thirst and to be free to walk in the sun? Gods. There were moments where he genuinely thought he'd give anything for that. Fearful, painful moments. And he was so close to giving in to his panic to never be caged ever again.

But then, he recalled Tav's hand in his. Their smiling face. Their selfless bravery in battle, shielding him, always having his back. The way Tav looked at him, how, even if Astarion was just joking that he only wanted vain empty compliments, Tav's responses were always sincere and full of affection. The gentle way they made love. Something about the way Tav loved Astarion was so true, he couldn't deny it. It was in everything Tav did. It was in the way Tav opened up about being a Bhaalspawn, and fearing they'd hurt him. How they weren't afraid of losing power or control or murdering innocents in general - Tav was more scared and willing to give up the one thing they truly loved, if it meant keeping him safe. Him. Astarion. A measly vampire spawn who, in the grand scheme of things, should have meant nothing to someone like Tav. Yet they had died at Bhaal's altar, giving up all that power to be a decent, regular person, and to have a chance to love Astarion. For Tav, it had been more important to die wanting to be good and to love than to give up their soul to live powerful but practically in slavery. Thank the gods Withers had been there to raise Tav as a mortal, no longer tied to Bhaal. To give them and Astarion a chance to live.

Astarion lied down on the bed. Tav loved him enough to set him free. Tav didn't want to own or control him. They never had. They had always let Astarion make his own decisions. Stood by Astarion when he confronted Cazador. Never telling him what to do, but supporting him through it all. If he had ascended, he would have been lost forever. He would have gained power, but he would have lost himself, and become a beast beyond reckoning… Probably very much like Tav almost did, like their sister Orin had. Astarion had read up on vampire lords after, and realised part of the reason Cazador had been so cruel wasn't only that his master Vellion had been equally brutal to Cazador… But also because the one edge spawns had over full fledged vampires, was that they were still capable of love. Of feelings. Cazador had hated him with a passion, partly because he couldn't feel anything else.

And what if it hadn't been him to have been swept up in the mindflayer ship? What if it had been one of his vampire siblings? If the roles had been reversed, and he was still stuck with Cazador while his sibling dealt with the Netherbrain with Tav, he would have hoped to have been given a chance to live as well. He chuckled. Gods. All those spawn down in the Underdark, wreaking havoc. Ah, to be a spider on the ceiling!

Astarion stared at the ceiling of their bed. Mindflayers and vampire lords weren't that different beasts, after all. Soulless opportunists looking to drain whatever they found useful until it no longer wasn't. Astarion turned his head to look at the empty pillow beside him. The longing and uselessness he felt almost made him want to be some emotionless monster. He got up, frustrated.

He felt alone and oddly fragile. More so with each passing day Tav was absent. He trusted Tav. They said they'll be back. So they would be. But Astarion was worried. He walked to Tav's bedroom table and picked up the Sending Stone. He had picked it up and put it down many times as the days passed. He rolled it in his hands again, pondering who to message.

He finally gave the Stone a squeeze, activating it, and uttered: "Shadowheart love, sorry to bother you on a wonderful night such as this, but do you happen to know where Tav is?" The Stone flashed, letting him know the message was sent. He waited for a response.

None came. Odd. They weren't exactly the bestest of friends with Shadowheart, but she had always given some sort of reply when he had messaged her. Was she missing with Tav? Did they take Shadowheart with them wherever they went, but not him? What was going on? He thought of their old companions. Wyll and Karlach were still in the Hells, as far as he knew. Halsin was rebuilding the Shadowlands now that the shadows were no more. Jaheira was rebuilding Baldur's Gate. Lae'Zel was long gone fighting for the freedom of her people. He didn't dare to even think what Minsc was up to, or how he'd respond to any message, really. This didn't leave him many options on who to try next. He squeezed the Stone again, activating it.

"Gale - would you be a dear and let me know if you have any idea where Tav is?"

The response came in surprisingly quick this time. "Astarion! A little busy right now - ack!" The response cut out.

Astarion sat back down on the bed, Sending Stone in hand. So Shadowheart was unresponsive and Gale, professor of magic in Waterdeep, was clearly in some kind of battle - what were the odds these two events were unrelated? What was Tav up to that they had called on Shadowheart and Gale, but left him at home to worry? He stood up and paced. What was going on?

He heard a weary sigh in his ear. "Astarion." It was Gale. He was sending a message back. Astarion stopped to listen. "Terribly sorry not to respond. In a bit of a spot of bother. We're helping Tav… Retrieve an item, and it is proving rather tricky. Not to worry! Shadowheart has patched up the worst of Tav's injuries and we're nearly done here. We'll bring Tav home tomorrow night once we've all rested from today's activities."

"Tav is hurt?" Astarion found himself nearly shouting. He contained himself and poised his next words to be more his usual lax self. "Do make sure to tell them to not drag any blood on my Calimshite carpets when you return. They were very expensive. I suppose I'll have dinner waiting after sunset. You still drink wine, don't you Gale?"

Gale chuckled. "Tav says they wouldn't dream of dirtying your precious carpets. And a fine wine with some cheese sounds wonderful. See you tomorrow."

Astarion put the Stone back on Tav's table. Honestly he couldn't care less about the stupid carpets or even this entire house - he just wanted Tav back safe and sound. Tav getting injured worried him, as he knew how annoyingly self-sacrificing they could be. Didn't they agree to look after themselves first after the whole mess with the Netherbrain? What was Tav thinking?

Astarion walked upstairs and put on a coat. He needed the air to calm his nerves, and a meal to quench his thirst. Plus, now he'd have to prepare dinner for at least three since Tav was coming home with an entourage. He thought back to where Tav placed the recipe for that strange sauce Gale kept harping on about, and with a put upon sigh determined to make his best effort to make the stupid thing. Tav would be happy if he tried to be kind to their friends. And if they brought Tav back to him alive, maybe slaving over a meal wasn't such a big thing.

The next sunset, Astarion felt a little pathetic, sitting by their door waiting. But he couldn't help it. He was anxious to see what Tav had gone out to retrieve that was apparently worth dying over. And mostly, just to see his beloved idiot again. It had been horribly lonely and empty without Tav. And honestly, just mind-numbingly boring. He had started preparing dinner early as he couldn't really sleep the day, waiting. It was simmering on their stove. He had gone a bit overboard with setting the table as well, picking out Tav's favourite flowers and bringing out their best cutlery for their friends.

Astarion gingerly stole a glance at the last rays of the sun diving underneath the horizon, and as soon as they disappeared, a teleportation circle promptly manifested in their yard. As expected, Gale walked out, looking behind him as if encouraging whomever was behind him to follow. Out came Shadowheart and surprisingly, Jaheira, supporting a limping Tav between them. As soon as they were through, Gale shut the portal behind them.

Astarion couldn't contain himself. He flung the door open and ran to hold Tav. He held them hard, as if afraid Tav would vanish if he let go. For a small moment, he was lost in Tav's familiar scent. The one he had come to associate with being loved and being home, and he managed to hold back his tears on how good it felt to have Tav near him again. Tav gently kissed Astarion on his head, laying their head on his. "Hello, darling. Miss me?"

Astarion suddenly felt acutely aware they weren't alone and broke off their embrace. He tried to ignore Jaheira's knowing smirk and Shadowheart's little smile as he turned to face the latter. "I thought Gale said you'd patch my precious knucklehead before sending them home. Why are they still injured?"

Tav looked embarrassed. "Well, uh-" They were cut off by Jaheira. "Because we only have so many healing spells to spare a day, spawn, and we did as much as we could after a night's rest for the reckless cub, Shadowheart and I." Jaheira smacked Tav on the shoulder, as if to reprimand them for needing healing in the first place. Astarion's eyes widened in shock. "How hurt were you?"

"Exhaustingly so." Shadowheart sighed. "For a moment there, I wasn't sure Tav was still among the living, or that we could even bring them back, but we did, thank Selûne."

"Aye, burnt to a crisp by that one trap we missed. Shame the temple was filled with so much undead-repelling magics that we couldn't risk bringing our favourite vampire spawn in there to check for all of them, but we managed."

Everyone stopped when they noticed how quiet Astarion got. There was an awkward silence that hung among the group, as everyone realised even without tadpoles to connect them that Astarion was not okay with the news given. Tav looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to come along. I know you would have come even if I didn't ask if I said I was going. But, there is a reason for this." Tav signaled for Shadowheart and Jaheira to release them, and stood up on their own feet.

Astarion sighed. "Just don't do it again. Now, I've made enough dinner for all of you, and there are guest bedrooms upstairs if you want to stay the night. You can tell me all about it over dinner." Astarion walked up to Tav, offering them a hand to lean on as he led them home. Their friends smiled and walked behind them, grateful for the offer of a hearth, a meal and a warm home.

Tav whispered in his ear. "Just like that? You forgive me for taking off without you?" Astarion gave their arm a gentle squeeze. "Yes love. I said I trust you, and despite all the evidence to the contrary, I still do." They walked together into their home with their friends. "But please don't leave me alone like this again. I don't like being alone with my thoughts for so long." Tav kissed his pale cheek. "I promise. This was the last escapade I'll ever do without your blessing."

As they sat down for dinner Jaheira laughed. "Astarion, seems I have misjudged you yet again. Not only was I right in mistaking you for a good man, now I am beginning to believe I might mistake you for a great husband. This is a beautiful setup!"

"Oh hush, you old crone. It's just dinner among friends", Astarion quipped back, smiling despite himself.

Gale sniffed the air as he sat down. "Is that Hundur sauce I smell?" He took a small dab of sauce on his spoon and tasted it. "By Mystra, you even got the flavours just right! Astarion! I didn't know you had the makings of a cook."

"There are many things you don't know about me, darling."

Shadowheart piped in while breaking bread for herself. "Indeed - I for one, am having a hard time telling which one of you loves the other more, you or Tav. Especially after this stunt we helped them pull. It'd be disgusting if you two weren't so adorable together… What isn't a mystery though, is who decorated your house. Really, Astarion?"

"You're just jealous you don't have my sense of style, love."

They all smirked, Tav smiling the biggest of them all. "Thank you, everyone. For being here. For you three for helping me with this… We can talk about what we did, but I'd like to tell Astarion in private what we got out of it, if that's okay. And… Just, you are all my family and I love you all very much. I am honoured to be among such amazing friends, and could not ask for better ones. If you ever need anything, anything at all, call and you know I will be there."

A choked silence hung among them, as no one really knew what to add to such heartfelt words of affection. Astarion smiled. Tav was one-of-a-kind. And all his. Jaheira turned her head to wipe a tear. Shadowheart smiled. Gale cleared his throat. "Well, let's not waste our gracious chef's efforts by letting this feast go cold. Shall we?"

They ate together as mostly Gale and Shadowheart regaled them with the story of how they had found a long-abandoned temple of Lathander, and plunged into it's surprisingly sunny depths, with occasional snarky remarks from the wizened Jaheira of all the blunders they made along the way. Tav focused on the meal, following along the story, nodding in places in agreement on the retelling of their past few days, and laughing at everyone's quips and remarks on their mishaps while at it. Astarion wondered what was worth this much trouble. The Blood of Lathander was still with Shadowheart. What more could the sun god offer that was worth the risk? He also noted that Tav seemed oddly nervous, and avoided his gaze throughout the dinner, shyly blushing into their dinner whenever their eyes did meet. Astarion found himself anxious as well, every now and then letting his foot tap under the table before he caught himself, and composed himself once more.

Eventually dinner came to a close, and they saw their guests to bed. Shadowheart promised to finish healing up Tav as soon as she woke up and before Gale teleported them all back home. They wished their friends a good night.

Astarion gently helped Tav down into their basement bedroom, and then to take off their armour and clothes. Dawn was already approaching, which was their bedtime, as Tav had adopted Astarion's nocturnal schedule with ease. He noted the bruising, the burns, the barely closed wounds from the battles Tav had recently fought without him while undressing them. He got lost in softly caressing Tav's battered body, until Tav's hand found his, and gently held it. Astarion looked into Tav's eyes. "Alright. We're alone now - could you please tell me what was worth nearly killing yourself over, again? The suspense is killing me, darling."

Tav looked at their knees, searching for their words. "You know how you showed me your grave stone", they started.

"Of course love, how could I forget? We made such excellent love on top of it that night. I cannot think of a better way to celebrate my rebirth at the time", Astarion shot back with a devilish grin. "I fail to see how my faded grave stone has anything to do with your little adventure", he added.

"Well that's just it - your grave was so faded, we couldn't make out the day you died. Or the day you were born. And you still can't remember, right?"

"Well no, I can't and honestly, I don't really care to. That person is long gone and can stay that way for all I care. Why does it matter?"

Tav played with their hands in their lap. "Today's a year from the day we first met. I was afraid I wouldn't make it back on time, but I did." Tav used the bed post to stand up, and limped to their satchel. They took out an unassuming scroll case. "I figured, today could be both yours and my birthday. Since I can't remember my birthday either. It could be our anniversary. A day of celebration. Our day. And I went out and got the one thing I really, truly want to give you above all... I've been plotting ways to find one for some time now." Tav limped in front of Astarion and painfully but meticulously got on one knee. Astarion could feel his cheeks getting hot - a feeling he wasn't sure he was even capable of anymore, being undead and all.

Tav presented the scroll case to him. "The temple of the sun god had been rumoured to contain a Wish spell. I risked everything to find out if the rumour was true, and it was. With this scroll, anyone can wish for anything; once." Tav placed the scroll into Astarion's hands.

"I know how much you loved walking in the sun, Astarion. Your life was taken from you. Your freedom. Even the sun was stolen from you. I give you this scroll, so that you can wish for anything. You can wish to ascend without sacrificing all those spawn, you can wish to be rid of your vampiric curse, you could wish to rule the world - anything you want." Tav gently squeezed Astarion's hands, holding the scroll case, and looked up at him with their piercing eyes. "I love you, Astarion. And I always will. I give you ultimate freedom to choose anything you want, anything at all."

For a moment, it felt as if time stood still as Astarion fully absorbed what Tav just said. What they were offering him. Suddenly, he couldn't help but cry. He threw the scroll case into a corner of the room and knelt down to hold his precious Tav as close as he could. How had he gotten so lucky? After centuries of misery, how was he here, now, with this amazing creature? He kissed them deeply, passionately, as if trying to convey all his overwhelming affection and gratitude in one, two, no; dozens of kisses and caresses. He didn't care he was still crying. He didn't care if he seemed insane. He just wanted to feel Tav, and never let go. To tell them without words Tav meant more to him than anything they could ever bring home.

After awhile, he stopped and they leaned their foreheads together, holding hands. Astarion noticed Tav was crying too, but Tav gave him a little smile nonetheless. There was an unanswered question in Tav's eyes -

What did Astarion want to Wish for?

Astarion kissed Tav on the forehead once more. "You are a reckless idiot." He got up and picked up the scroll case, and took out the scroll. Such a mundane looking piece of paper, to give out a moment of godlike powers to mere mortals. He played with it as if it was nothing. Tav smirked. "I know. So love, what are you going to use it for?"

Astarion grinned back at Tav. "Oh, I don't know. World domination does sound like an awful lot of work, doesn't it? And I have never heard of a happy vampire lord, now that I think of it. Powerful, to be sure - but not happy."

"I could wish for a sea of puppy dogs and kittens for you", Astarion joked. Tav laughed. "I got the scroll for you, smooth brain. I already have everything I need - what I want, is you to be free, in whatever way you want to be free." Tav dropped their joking demeanor and picked up their surprisingly disarming sincerity. "With or without me, I want you to be happy. You helped me find freedom and regain myself and my life back. Without you, I'd still be a slave to Bhaal's endless fervour to murder, or a mindflayer. You believed in me when no one else did, and supported me through bouts of madness. I owe my life to you… So I want you to choose yours. And whatever you choose, know I'll always love you for carrying me through my darkest days."

Astarion looked at Tav. He didn't need to connect through the no-longer-present tadpole to know they meant every word. He looked down at the scroll of Wish in his hands. He could be anyone. He could do anything. He could be the most powerful, influential and beloved man in all of Faerûn - all he had to do was say the words.

The scroll knew he meant to make his Wish. It glowed in anticipation. He smiled at Tav. "I wish to be cured of vampirism and to be an elf that's capable of walking in the sun with his beloved."

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 1 year ago

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Part 5 - dare not preach

Dp x DC AU: Regent!Jazz & Vigilante!Jazz

Masterlist Part 4

"And If I had the answers I'd have written them out so I could tell you what to do and what this thing is about. But all I've ever learned comes second-hand and I dare not preach what I don't understand." -Make A Move by Icon For Hire

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Content warning: briefly implied child abuse (Vlad is not a good guy by any definition),

Time was lost in between bouts of consciousness, flashes of pretty eyes and fire hair, soft muttering and gentle caresses against his skin soothing his aches.

Jason was caught between heaven and hell, wracked with agony behind his ribs one moment and healed with persistent warmth the next, a never ending cycle.

He wanted to scream.

One bout of semi-clarity was of some citrus concoction on his tongue, gentle murmurs of a woman by his ear before she kissed him again, forced something down his throat again.

He both loved and hated that woman. She felt familiar in a way that made his bat-honed paranoia rear its ugly head, the instinct to survive in his gut a heavy weight, but she brought him peace in the same moment she could damn him.

He caught his name once, his real name, spoken by her as he swallowed dutifully, a spike of want in his heart almost a welcome change from the pain by that point.

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Jazz spoke with the Lady frequently as the Red Hood, Jason, healed in her bed.

The elder spirit, regal in mannerisms and aura, demanded the Regent to aid this one vigilante, this one knight and Jazz had finally figured out why.

It was so obvious when she had all the puzzle pieces, the depth of occult knowledge both in her brain and at her disposal should have been her first resource used to dig deeper, but she’d allowed Danny and Frostbite to assume (and let her assume) that the Red Hood was an awakened Liminal who was recovering from corrupted Ecto in his system.

The Red Hood had been Jason Todd-Wayne, the second Robin- bright light of Gotham- and he’d been murdered by the Joker.

Unburied in my soil.

Jazz groaned in self-contempt as she paced the graveyard of Gotham’s Crime Alley. It was decrepit and uncared for, not like the higher class cemetery of Gotham proper where the Rich and powerful are buried. She what’s spent the better part of three days researching her new bedmate roommate once he’d been stabilized enough to be on a consistent schedule for ecto-infusion. He’d be unlikely to regain full consciousness for another month or so, but he would recover fully.

That was, if he understood what he had become in his near-fatal collapse.

(Thanks to Jazz and her rash actions.)

The Lady had been cryptic when speaking of Red Hood at first, but with his recovery and development of a strong proto-core Lady Gotham was eager to aid the Regent in making her once Robin adjust to a world-changing consequence once again.

(At least this time he would have support.)

Not only was Jason a Liminal with an indisputable death-claim, he had been a- a Revenant whose continued existence was a mind boggling happenstance of circumstance that was one in a infinite chance of ever happening again.

The Lady claimed him. The Lady gave a bit of herself to resurrect her bright Light, the one who shouldn’t have died so young, not while he deserved happiness for the hope he brought to so many.

(Damn it all.)

He clawed himself out of his own casket, to be found by Talia Al Ghul of all people… then survive the Lazarus Pits in body, with only Pit Madness to show for it?

(It was a callous way to think about it, but Jazz knew that it had also given him his freedom in many ways, that Jason wouldn’t have if he was still just a Revenant.)

(Did the Al Ghul know what she had found that night in dreary Gotham?)

(Was she aware she had given Jason Todd a third chance at life- however much of one being death-claimed by Lady Gotham could be called a life.)

The Lady, wistful once assured in the Regent’s anger having passed, swore an oath that Jason would never be forced to be a Knight again.

(Jazz reveled in the understanding that Batman, Bruce Wayne, was destined to be Gotham Knight for his mortal lifetime- possibly beyond.)

(Had he sworn his fealty by accident in his grief? Or had his donning that ridiculous gimmick been enough of a bind to tie his soul to the Lady?)

(Regardless, for his inaction, Jazz privately reveled in the satisfaction of the true consequences of his choices.)

Jazz, who’d been pacing a strict line in the uneven row of headstones, came to a rest at the grave of the once-Revenant who now lay in her bed.

Jason Todd

He’d been only a year older than her little brother when he’d been murdered by the Joker, buried under a name that was half-complete. He was a Wayne in life, but not in death? How hypocritical of the old bat, to not give him the courtesy of giving him the hyphenated last name if he wasn’t going to bury him in the Wayne cemetery.

What would it have been like if Danny had a grave, complete with a stone and inscription?

(The portal was his grave. He’d died there and the house was his graveyard.)

Would it have been up to Jazz to choose the words to describe her little light, the brightest star in the galaxy, the one reason she had for getting up in the morning… or would her parents have cremated him and put him on a shelf to prevent a corpse from ‘piloting’ his corpse?

(Jazz still had nightmares about Danny’s death scream. The portal ripping him apart in the same moment it fused him back together.)

(Into something different, something more.)

(He was her little brother, the same one who she spent her birthday money on to get those ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars.)

(They’d spent hours forming constellations on his ceiling.)

How does one paraphrase a life?

Would Jazz start with his name, his preferred name, or with his date of birth?

Would she put down ‘dearest brother’ or ‘missed’, ‘Be at peace’?

No. Jazz knew she’d give the most important pieces of what made her little brother the brightest star in the sky-

Danny, per aspera ad Astra.

Danny had an unconventional memorial tucked away in the remnants of the Fenton lab, underneath the debris of what was once a strange machine to a world unseen.

The portal was built into the wall with ample access space in the rear for intended maintenance, though it was not required once the portal was completed and functional.

Jazz left flowers for Danny in that maintenance space three days after she first saw his transformation, yellow tulips, though she didn’t know the impact the action would have later in life.

Once a month, Jazz would return to replace the dried flowers, dust away the cobwebs, close the door, rinse and repeat.

Christmas was particularly complicated in the Fenton household, but the first year of Danny’s half-life was the worst Jazz could recall up to that point.

It wasn’t the eerie lack of ghost attacks (thanks to her not knowing of the Truce then), or the winter storm being harsher than any other Amity Park had faced in previous years… No, it was that Danny had died, while nothing and everything changed.

Jack and Maddie still screamed their arguments about Santa Claus, loud and proud for the world to be privy to.

Jazz had extra tutoring to take up for Christmas presents.

Danny… Danny still had to fight a ghost.

Ghostwriter wasn’t a malicious ghost in nature, far from it in fact, but he was never a fan of her little brother.

Jazz overheard Danny tell his friends about his ‘storybook adventure’ and she had to sleep in the access space for the night, just so she didn’t wake anyone with her crying.

It wasn’t right.

That thought repeated on a never-ending loop in her head as she tucked her growing limbs into the cramped space, eyes shut tight and the darkness shrouding her in safety.

(That had been the first nightmare of her own death to come, fingers frantically searching for a pulse as she woke in the dark.)

Perhaps she should have never left that darkness.

Because then the anger that had been building inside of her would never have been unshackled after the release of the tyrant king.

Jazz had been a patient girl her entire life. It was a necessary evil when raised by scientists to follow in their footsteps, though she had no intention to make her life into any imitation of her negligent parents, she learned those lessons at the knee of Maddie Fenton, who had given her life to the pursuit of ecto-science.

(Built a very strange machine to a world unseen.)

When Jazz failed to achieve something, she observed and struck when the opportunity presented it. That’s how she’d survived ghost attacks for so long, escpecially when it was her own dinner- that and the ingrained knowledge to strike hard and quick when it was required. A paradox of a hunter and a hunted, but that was Jasmine Fenton’s upbringing in a nutshell.

Jasmine knew Vladimir Masters was a bigger predator than she was capable of hunting as a young girl.

(Jazz was just a little girl when Vlad became obsessed with her and her mom.)

(Only the dead truly knew what an older man could do to someone so much smaller.)

It was a waiting game that morphed as she grew, bones sturdy and teeth sharper as Ecto-contamination finally settled into her molecules- Death-claimed, Liminality. Vlad was a false halfa, just as he was a false friend to her parents and a false business man, but as long as he stayed out of her way in caring for her little brother than she would not destroy him.

(She was a patient hunter.)

Pariah Dark was the final crack.

(It needed somewhere to go, all that anger, all that rage.)

Jazz had been patrolling the outer limits of the ghost shield now that Amity was returned to the Living Realm, anxiety in her gut as Danny had yet to show from his battle against the tyrant king.

He had obviously won if they were all safe, right? The mech suit would boost him enough, but could it really kill what was already dead?

Hidden in the embrace of familiar shadows, Jazz witnessed Plasmius carrying an unconscious Danny over his shoulder and a…crown in his right hand.

Not only had the bastard released the King for the Crown of Fire, he’d damned them all for the same item he’d stolen in the aftermath.

Jazz’s next actions weren’t borne from Vengeance, they were unfiltered rage.

Vlad had died that night, Jazz believed wholeheartedly, he died before she locked him in his casket- a since soldered shut Fenton Thermos.

Thing was, Jazz didn’t recall what happened between them- all she could really remember when thinking of that time frame was a green haze that was so similar in color to the damned portal.

One moment, Plasmius had Danny and the Crown. The next, he was a beaten man in his human form with no rise and fall of his chest to convince Jazz he was alive.

Was it concerning? Of course. Jazz never wanted to hurt anyone, especially not in a blackout rage state.

(How times have changed.)

Would she ever mourn Vlad? No. He deserved a far worse fate than a second death.

(His sins were numerous.)

If his casket would later be given to Pandora, the trusted Mentor of the Boy King’s Regent…. Well, where better to keep a body hidden than with a Matriarch who understands the sins of man?

(Pandora had always believed in Jazz, the Regent’s soul was far too bright to be snuffed out without a war.)

Within the Infinite Realms, the Regent was called many things- titles that held little meaning to the one in question, but offered weight to her authority.

The Lady of the Acropolis, for her mentorship with Pandora and position of respect among the populace.

First Knight of the Star King, would be granted once her Regency was over and Danny was crowned. His epithet as ‘Star King’ was a beautiful homage of a lost dream.

Death-Claimed Champion.

It made the Regent grit her teeth when addressed as such, especially when she lived in Gotham presently- the city of Lady Gotham’s Knights… her Champions.

Jazz had survived to adulthood as a highly contaminated Liminal, no patron to claim as her- Not even Pandora counted even though they shared a teacher/student relationship.

Would Jason, Red Hood of the Alley, be able to handle managing his territory without the backing of a patron claim? The Lady did swear that the once-Revenant was no longer bound to her service, which meant he could pack up his gear forever if he wanted to.

Though that was highly doubtful.

Jason was a strong willed man to lay claim to his haunt so quickly and hold fast for so long. Jazz shared her haunt with Danny, but that was only because he was the powerful Halfa and future King. His Haunt would never be challenged by a competent opponent, not in Gotham at least.

Perhaps Jason would be willing to unite their haunts?

It was a common tradition for older ghosts to allow weaker ones to share their haunt for protection, but that didn’t translate well to the Death-Claimed.

(Jazz had a hunch that Jason was so in tune with his haunt that he instinctively knew when she or Danny stepped foot across his boundary.)

(They tried not to linger, out of respect of another’s haunt of course.)

Then again, Jason was the Baby Liminal between the two of them. Danny and Jazz should be offering him to share a haunt for protection.

(Jazz couldn’t help but wonder what Jason looked like as a child.)

(She would bet almost anything that he was an adorable kid.)

(Would their kids be so cute?)

There was a slight lilt of sadness that lingered over the daytime hero, Signal, that Danny almost choked on his Death Wish.

The coffee, that is.

Little late on the literal bit.

Gotham (city, not the Lady) was an ever-gloomy fruit basket full of ghastly vibes. You see it and you know you’re in for a bad time, but that’s typically at night.

So what was up with Sunshine Child?

Yeah, he was clearly human and allowed to have off days, duh, but for it to hang like a shroud of storm clouds over Sunny? Yeah, no. That shit needs to be gone, like yesterday.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Danny called out with a false cheer. It was too damn early in the morning for real cheer, are you mad, but Signal didn’t seem to notice as he approached the lawn chair the Halfa had decided would be his new throne.

(At least Jazz would find it funny.)

“Hi Danny. Can I help you with something?”

Danny took a loud sip of his coffee before he went straight for the throat, “You’re doom and gloom this morning, Sunny. Whose bones do I need ‘ta steal?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just…” the meta Hero trailed off, voice tired as he let himself relax for a moment in Danny’s presence.

(That’s right, Danny’s just a friendly civilian teenager with anger issues, right?)

(Oh he would be cackling at that lie when he had a moment to himself again.)

“My brother is missing.”

Danny blinked.

“Your brother? One of the birdies?” He tried very hard not to pull out any of his jokes about traffic lights and Stabby Robin, but at least he didn’t sound condescending?

“Sorta. Red Hood… he went off grid about a week and a half ago.”

(Yeah this isn’t something Danny should be privy to.)

(Like at all.)

(It’s not like he was housing the guy in his home right?)

(Oh wait.)

“Yikes, Sunny. That sucks, ‘m sorry.”

Signal sighed, “Yeah, thanks Danny.” He paused again, studying the canonical adoption bait that was Danny Fenton before he dropped a bombshell.

“Batman thinks he’s dead.”

(Danny almost cackled in manic glee at that statement.)

(Overshot the mark there, Bats. Yikes.)

Danny happily waved goodbye to his meta friend, a dorky salute with his coffee cup in commersiation of a shitty hour of the day to be awake, before he leaned back in his lawn chair and yawned.

“Oh, what drama. Jazz is gonna kill me all the way if she finds out.” He said out loud to no one in particular. The occasional shade that kept him company didn’t bother to move at the sound of his voice now that Signal had left, but it did let out a mournful trill that made Dannny chuckle.

“Yeah, yep, you’re right- when, when, Jazz finds out.” Danny laughed again, “Worth it.”

A/N:

Yeah, I wasn't expecting so much angst either, but apparently, that's my jam, because I literally cannot write anything else. Well, anything that doesn't sound like two robots trying to mimic humans at least.

This was supposed to be a more upbeat entry and look how epically I failed. I had to put a content warning up top because I wrote/heavily implied that Jazz was abused by Vlad due to his obsession with Maddie.

In other news, I have a playlist now for what songs I listen to while writing this. It's called 'Guns & Sword: Jazz on' 'cause 2am me thinks she's clever.

#dpxdc #dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #regent!jazz #jazz fenton #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #ooh angst #*points at Jazz* this badass can hold so much angst #some character building for Jazz #I swear I try writing dialogue and I choke.#How did i never learn to write dialogue properly?

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 month ago

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Have you seen Impeachment: American Crime Story? The show about Bill Clinton’s affair with Monica Lewinsky. Well, I was young in 1998 so I didn’t know a lot of details about Bill Clinton’s affair with Monica Lewinsky until I watched the show.

Honestly, while watching the show I was reminded of reporting in the royal world as there many parts of the show about journalists getting scoops, sources, catching someone in an affair, men’s bad behavior, etc. Andrew Morton even helped write Monica’s book, same as Diana.

My realizations:

1.) the people who worked to catch Bill Clinton dis jr because they thought they were doing it for the greater good. i think in some ways they thought it was their form of activism. It made me realize that a lot of journalists in the royal watching world probably feel like this as well and that’s why they go after William and Kate

2.) the scandal was so scandalous omg. It certainly made tampongate look tame. It makes me wonder why Charles and Camilla still get made fun of a lot these days and I hardly see anyone go after Bill Clinton anymore (might just be my algorithm)

3.) the journalists or the royal rota are so weak now. I wish if William was cheating, someone would commit a crime like secretly recording his conversations with the mistresses where he admits to the affair to get evidence. This, plus tampongate, shows me that the best way to expose an affair is by secretly recording lol.

It’s actually funny that anon said they became further convinced an affair is possible because Kate went home from the hospital unseen. That’s funny because it’s actually obvious. We don’t see them everyday. Of course they can move without being seen. Like obviously we wouldn’t catch William in the many many rooms of Houghton Hall where his secret rendezvous with the Marchioness probably is. ( Jk, don’t actually think this is what happens. Tbh I just said that to make that anon even more paranoid lol). Obviously their friends won’t talk. The rota said they searched for evidence but tbh theh probably didn’t work hard enough lol.

1 - Makes sense. I disagree slightly that they thought it was for the greater good - my political leaning and some additional reading I've done makes me see it more for the political activisim. On the one hand, yes, if Clinton (and any president) was abusing the privileges of his office, then absolutely, it should be investigated and it should be properly dealt with - as it was with the impeachment trial. But the investigation also did become a bit of a witch hunt by some of the people involved in the investigations, which made it feel more like partisan activism and ultimately hurt the actual impeachment.

I won't go much further because then we start getting into politics, but if you're interested, some things to check out:

Burning Down the House by Julian Zelizer

The Clinton Affair (2018 docuseries - available on Apple TV and most other streaming platforms)

the Monica Lewinsky chapter in The Rulebreaker by Susan Page (Barbara Walters' biography)

2 - No one goes after Bill Clinton anymore because he's not in the news anymore. He's a US statesman elder now so he gets trotted out every 4 years for the election and the inauguration, then he goes back into semi-retirement.

Also, Monica herself doesn't talk about the affair very much anymore either, which has helped "cancel" the story from the public consciousness when Bill Clinton makes a public appearance.

3- It's not that the journalists or the rota are weak now; it's that privacy and security standards have changed so much that it's harder for them to have that kind of access to infiltrate the inner royal circle. William especially is aware that all kinds of people are interested in his private conversations and would leap at the chance to hack his phone or his email (look no further than the hacking of Kate's medical records) so he absolutely safeguards everything as much as possible, with unlisted numbers, multi-factor authentication, strict password protocols, and a strict vetting of everyone they give their contact info to. If they even give their real contact information out in the first place.

Also, another anon - I think it was on another site entirely - said that the only reason the rota had that kind of access back in the '90s to hack the royal circle's phones was because Diana gave them the phone numbers in the first place. No idea if it's true or not, I'm just passing on what I read.

Edit: Diana giving the press the phone numbers has been confirmed true. Here’s the link: https://www.reuters.com/article/business/princess-diana-leaked-royal-directories-to-murdoch-tabloid-court-hears-idUSL6N0MA43E/

Thanks, @and-the-void-looked-back!

It’s actually funny that anon said they became further convinced an affair is possible because Kate went home from the hospital unseen.

That's not what the anon said. They said that because Kate went home from the hospital unseen, they're more convinced that William's cheating/affairs could be kept entirely private/out of public attention if he ever did cheat.

#waleses #clinton

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best-underrated-anime · 9 months ago

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Best Underrated Anime Group A Round 4: To Your Eternity vs Shadows House

#A7: To Your Eternity (Fumetsu no Anata e)

Immortal being learns what it’s like to be human

#A5: Shadows House

Two girls unravel mysteries surrounding an isolated manor

Details and poll under the cut!

#A7: To Your Eternity (Fumetsu no Anata e)

youtube

Summary:

An Orb, known only as It, is cast to Earth to be observed from afar. Capable of changing forms from beings whose reflections It captures, It first becomes a rock and then, due to the rising temperature, moss.

It does not move until one snowy day, a wolf at death’s door barely crosses by. When It takes the animal’s form, It attains awareness of its consciousness and starts to wander with an unclear destination in mind. Soon, It comes across the wolf’s master—a young boy waiting for his tribe to return from a paradise abundant with fish and fruit in the south. Although the boy is lonely, he still hopes those whom he holds dear in his memories have not forgotten him and that he will reunite with them one day.

The boy wants to explore new surroundings and decides to abandon his home with It to find the paradise using the traces his tribe left behind. However, with a heavily injured body and no sight of his elder comrades, what will become of the boy?

Propaganda:

I don’t think I’ve ever watched an anime that has meant so much. It’s/Fushi’s journey from being born as nothing and without emotions, to becoming a genuine, real person who loves and cries is so special to me. The constant war he’s in between being too human and being not human at all is written so well—for him to love so much it hurts, leading him to isolate himself for years on end, for him to want to make friends, to love, but too afraid of them leaving and eventually dying to meet anyone new. For him to get so detached from life and death and the cycle it perpetuates that he loses understanding of why human life is so special—why should he save people, if they will die anyway? Why should he save them, if he can just bring them back to life, if he can just become them? The constant cycle of him learning to love again, and learning to treasure life again, only to lose it once he’s experienced death in a new and agonizing way. It’s about love, and it’s about humanity. Always.

Trigger Warnings: Animal Cruelty/Death, Child Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore, Racism, Rape/Non-Con, Self-Harm, Suicide

All TW’s apply to the protagonists, except child abuse and the racism. The world itself has hints of racism/discrimination throughout the anime, and not directly towards the protagonist. As for the rape, an antagonist attempts to rape the protagonist. There is a ton of self harm (protagonist and side characters) and blood as there is a lot of wars also happening in the anime

#A5: Shadows House

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Summary:

The Shadows, characterized by their pitch-black appearance and tendency to emit soot when agitated, are a family of nobles who reside in a colossal manor deep within the mountains far from other humans. When a Shadow child is nearly of-age, they are assigned a Living Doll who acts not only as their attendant but also as their second half—the faces they could have had if not for their complexion.

Emilico is a cheerful, newly created Doll who serves a rather soft-spoken master named Kate. Despite their difference in personalities, Emilico does what she can to carry out the needs of her master. As she learns more about her role and duty, Emilico begins to meet her fellow Dolls and their respective masters and comes to know more about the purpose of her existence.

"Do not fret over trivial matters," says one of the rules by which all Dolls must abide. But how could the ever-curious Emilico do so in the face of the deep secrets that the Shadows House holds?

Propaganda:

The atmosphere of the manor is probably the most effective aspects of the story, creating a feeling of isolation and worry as Kate and Emilico try to survive in the mansion. The show starts off pretty subtle, but as it progresses it becomes more and more strange and off-putting. This series is an incredibly interesting, layered mystery, and the horror elements are excellently done.

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form with your revisions, and I’ll consider adapting those changes.

New: Starting round 5, screenshots will be included in the poll post. You can submit screenshots through the form linked above, or through here, via ask or dm.

Guidelines in submitting screenshots:

No NSFW or spoilery images.

Pick some good images please. Don’t send any blurry or pixelated ones.

You may send up to 9 screenshots, but not all may be used.

#anime #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 4 #tournament polls #group a #to your eternity #fumetsu no anata e #shadows house

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yns-world · 1 month ago

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Not Everything That Glitters...

Pairing: Narrator x High Profile!Fem!Reader

Context: You’re a high-profile consumer--big city, bright lights, and big spending. It’s what you've been bred and raised for. You love the life of luxury. You’re a celebrity among friends and a big-wig among society, now how does that translate into your relationship with the narrator? 😏

Warnings: mentions of death, unstable and perfectionist reader, usual fight club warnings, slight spoilers of movie (if you squint)

a/n: yes the rumors are true!!! your fave writer is back and fight club has been the one and only thing that has been able to pull me out of my writing slump, thank you little meow meow movie 😩🤞:3

requests for fight club are open!!! i'm leaning more towards lil meow meow jack but i'll see if i'll bite with the other characters :3 enjoy!!!

(we need more jack gifs....we need more fight club gifs in general hello!!!!)

Narrator (Jack)

How you even got into a relationship with this man is a mystery to even those closest to you.

Some speculate that you met through your lawyer when you tried to sue his company for all the shadiness in it and that Jack was a sacrifice to you to keep everything under wraps.

Others rumor that Jack had lay victim to you when you spotted him at an exclusive restaurant you visited one night; that you had locked eyes with that sorry sap and sealed his fate as your eternal slave.

Despite the stark (very stark) differences between the two of you, you had somehow evened each other out???

Powerful woman and her loser boyfriend dynamic. All the way.

To say that Jack was intimidated by you was an understatement, but he wasn’t intimidated out of fear--no, he was intimated by the absolute front you put on; a front that has fooled an entire world.

And unlike most men who would love to drag a powerful woman to the grave, he respected your front. He knew what a reputation means to a person, he knew the name of the game, and the name of the game was you.

Everyone had coping mechanisms--drugs, sex, rot, but your mechanism was a machine gun for a heart and a knife for a tongue.

You were infamously loud--a charismatic, magnetic woman that held the breath of the room in her palm--and Jack was anything but.

You didn’t have to control Jack, you didn’t have to bait your breath or gauge his reaction. As soon as you had met him, the weight to perform was lifted off your shoulders.

Jack was infamously quiet, yet when you had your first conversation all you could do was listen to his soft manner of speaking. With each vibration from his mouth, he lulled the demonic voices in your mind.

What you two had originally bonded over was your shared insomnia. While his was more expected, your insomnia was a deep, foreboding secret. Jack’s insomnia was due to his own work-life stresses and his inability to be true to himself, your’s was to an insane degree.

You see, your entire life was built on an unattainable, violent, and damning standard of perfection. Countless nights spent perfecting your work, your voice, your hair, your face, your closet--even down to the minute glances you throw. Everything was a calculated war effort, but the only enemy was yourself. You spent your entire life terrorizing the one person you were meant to trust.

Jack was aware of your insomnia, but not to that horrifying scale. He only became aware when you had spent the night early in your relationship and found you staring down your reflection in the mirror. It was midnight, the city was finally beginning to hush in the background but the buzzing of the harsh bathroom light was deafening. Although, it was nothing compared to the varying shades of cruelty that crept out of their day-time cage and prodded at your flesh--the incessant pulling and scratching of skin; the internal and external wounds left of the verbal, physical, and mental battering of your relentless abuse; yet all you could was scold yourself with the voice of what could only be an elder that was supposed to raise a little girl, not a bioweapon.

Jack became a material witness to your desecration. He watched from the dark corner of the room as you bathed in the light of your own false-arrogance that you pour over the cracks and crevices caused by your own restlessness and pressure to always, always be perfect.

You didn’t come back to bed that night. Jack watched for 6 hours, 53 minutes, and 47 seconds before your alarm hit and you transitioned from your nocturnal mania and into your daytime routine. The switch was automatic--the skin of a killer crept back into whatever hell-hole he would hide in for the next 12 hours before he would show again.

Jack had just watched in silent horror a fraction of the continuous, eternal cycle of murder of an innocent woman, and could only stare dumbfounded as the murderer came to greet him with a kiss and a lie.

“Good morning, how’d you sleep?”

Months into your relationship, you still wouldn’t truly let yourself fully surrender around him. There was always a third party in your relationship, a 400-foot brick wall keeping you locked away in a tower.

People don’t know why or how Jack puts up with the act--rather, they don’t know how he puts up with you, but you aren’t the insufferable cunt that your reputation would like him to believe. In Jack’s mind, he knows that these people are just as abominable as the murderer he came face-to-face with that night--in fact, these people are worse.

These are the same people that keep pushing an innocent woman to the brink of death, over the edge, and back again.

“I hate my fucking friends.” Y/N chuckles as she lights a cigarette and brings it to her lips, but her face betrays her jovial tone as it sours at the thought.

Jack was rubbing Y/N’s feet that sat upon his lap and knew better than to turn his head and give her the visual satisfaction--it was past midnight, that means the hunter is well out on the prowl and looking for any reason to lash out. If he gave her an ounce of attention, she’d take it as far as she can to get high off his reactions. He wouldn’t give her the ammo to destroy herself, but he’ll still listen.

Y/N’s eyebrows twitch once and only once as she gives Jack time to process and see if he’ll bite--he doesn’t, so she continues.

“They’re the fakest, meanest, two-timing bitches you’ll ever meet.” Another drag of her cigarette. “They only hang out with me to experience high-class treatment, or to treat me like I’m their fucking therapist and savior, or to just fucking play a sick mental game. I hate those whores. They never once cared about me.” Y/N laughs as another realization hits her. “Actually! Those scumbag bitches are what make my paranoia worse! I hope they fucking die.”

Y/N exhaled a cloud of smoke from her nostrils and Jack had the permission he needed.

As usual, you would host a monthly get-together with the rest of the hyenas you surround yourself with at the roof-top of some high-brow establishment on your dime. Though tonight, as you rounded the corner and made it to the block of the restaurant, the bright, sizzling fire reflected into the night as the smoke bellowed and obscured the stars. The entire roof of the building had been blown into every direction and whatever was left was melting into the fire, by now the building itself was threatening to collapse.

You stood among the crowd of sight-seeing leeches and lit a cigarette, all while trying to bite back the ever-growing smile on your face.

The news would later confirm what you knew all along. Your shit-eating friends were just several of the many victims of that bombing.

Jack was already heading over to an abandoned house on Paper Street, one full briefcase in tow, while you sent a prayer of thanks to the gods above.

Some would expect you to grieve; others would expect you to make like a phoenix and rise above the ashes of this "tragedy"; but you took this opportunity to finally break free of your own shackles and live for yourself.

You booked that plane to Italy with nothing but a single suitcase and the clothes on your back.

Somewhere in Italy while you lived in a secluded village, you had locked on the same stars that Jack stared up at--you, wishing for safety and protection for Jack, and Jack--bloody and bruised--wishing that you were able to cut yourself free.

In some ways, you guys were too different to ever work out, but you both believe that you were destined to meet. After all, some stars are only meant to collide to create something more beautiful.

a/n: if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging since that helps creators like me <3

DON'T BE A GHOST READER!!!! i would love to hear your thoughts and opinions!! comments are what keep writers going <3

i’m open for fight club requests!!! it feels so good to be writing again ugh 🫦

#yns world #fight club #fight club 1999 #fight club imagine #fight club x reader #narrator fight club #fight club narrator x reader #edward norton #narrator x reader #ed norton #fight club fanfic #edward norton x reader #ed norton x reader #edward norton fanfic #ed norton fanfic #edward norton imagine #ed norton imagine

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murderousink23 · 2 years ago

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Day of Valdemar and Reunion Day 🇩🇰, International Working Animal Day 🌏, National Smile Power Day 🇺🇲, Nature Photography Day 🇺🇲, National Dump the Pump Day ⛽🇺🇲, National Beer Day 🍺🇬🇧, Clean Air Day 💨🇬🇧, World Elder Abuse Awareness Day 👵👴🇺🇳

#national day of valdemar and reunion day #international working animal day #national smile power day #nature photography day #national dump the pump day #national beer day #clean air day #world elder abuse awareness day

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worldelderabuseawarenessday · 7 months ago

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Spotlight on Older Persons in Emergencies.

This year's WEAAD calls on Governments, international donors, organizations, and communities to prioritize the safety and well-being of older persons in their emergency preparedness and response strategies. It encourages the development of inclusive policies that ensure older persons are not overlooked during crises. This includes creating accessible evacuation plans, ensuring continuity of healthcare services, and providing targeted support to prevent isolation and abuse. WEAAD 2024 also emphasizes the importance of education and training for emergency responders, caregivers, and the public. By increasing awareness about the specific challenges faced by older persons in emergencies, we can foster a more inclusive and protective environment. As we come together to observe WEAAD, let us reaffirm our commitment to safeguarding the rights and dignity of older persons, ensuring that no one is left behind, especially in times of crisis.

Click here to register for the event. Concept Note Programme Speakers and Panelists Bios

#world elder abuse awareness day #15 june #older persons #elder abuse #elderly #virtual event #webinars #UNDESA #weead #safety and well being of older people #older people in emergency preparedness #older persons in emergencies #emergency responders #emergencies

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that-trans-autistic-guy · 1 month ago

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Dead Boy Detectives x Slugterra Crossover: Hell Retold

Now, my DBD people are well aware that one of Edwin's defining experiences is hell. Slugterra may not have hell, but it's got something damn close. So, may I introduce the very not novelized version of this story.

Hell Retold

At fifteen, Edwin had been fairly accepted by the Shadow Clan. He was close to them, spoke their language and was allowed access to their spaces. Naturally, seeing as they came as a pair, Charles was as well. He didn’t speak Shadow, but he knew social cues and body language well enough to get by with his friend’s translation help.

One day, Charles was tied up at home and stuck with his rampaging father, and Edwin went exploring into Shadow Territory alone. He came across a Guardian Gate. Intrigued, he took as many notes as he could, inspecting the Guardians and the Gate itself. Suddenly, it cracked. A clawed tentacle whipped through and slashed around the room. It displaced several Guardians and made the barrier crack even more. Edwin fired his Geoshard, creating shields around the Guardian pedestals. In his distraction, the tentacle wrapped around his torso and pulled him through the cracked gate. The last he saw of it was the cracks repairing themselves. Through all his fear was a glimmer of the relief that whatever this was couldn’t hurt anyone else. Though the glimmer was quickly buried.

Charles hated how long he had been stuck at home. Three days of being thrown around and abused because his father had been fired. He had the bruises to prove it. But what he was most upset about was missing his meeting with Edwin. They had plans to explore a new area and he’d been really looking forward to it. He checked his phone, seeing a text Edwin had left saying he would be spending quite a bit of time in the area they had planned to explore, so that whenever Charles was available, he could join him. His heart swelled. He was still getting used to having an actual friend.

So, he made his way down to the cavern. When he arrived, he looked for the typical sign they left when exploring independently. Sure enough, he found what he was looking for. A picture of a magnifying glass, drawn onto the wall with chalk. He grinned and followed the arrow drawn beneath it. The path eventually led him into a stone room with a huge circular gate in the wall. He recognized it from Edwin’s research: a Guardian Gate, keeping the Deep’s monsters separate from the surface. Just imagining the wondrous expression on his partner’s face made him smile. He looked around, seeing twelve pedestals surrounded by crystal shields. That's when he heard tiny tapping from behind him. Pounding on the energy shield in the wall was a Geoshard. One he recognized. Gaia, Edwin’s slug. In the corner was Edwin’s blaster, emblazoned with the magnifying glass they used as their insignia. Dread curled in his gut as he watched Gaia pound against the shield separating him from his friend.

It was likely his screaming and pounding that got the Clan’s attention. Several Shadow Clan members appeared in the cavern around him. They hissed in their language as he yelled at them to let him through the barrier to help his friend. He may not have spoken their language, but their message came through clear: No chance. His yelling quickly turned to desperate pleading and just as it looked like he had no hope, he got back up in the form of the twelve Guardians. They jumped in to stand beside him, all squeaking their own argument in his defense. The members all seemed to discuss before their Elder stepped forward. They said something before handing him an orb that he’d seen before from Edwin’s notes. A Shadow Walker. The Elder set it in his hand and nodded towards the Gate. Charles hitched up his backpack chock full of experiments from the forge and let the Walker take him through.

On the other side was a world unlike anything he’d ever seen: brimstone, Dark Water and darkness all around. Screeching sounded far off in the distance. He crouched behind a rock, looking around for any sign of his friend when he saw a scratch of chalk. And then another. A whole trail of chalk marks, leading to some castle in the distance. Just the sight of the looming fortress filled him with dread. A nudge to his cheek made him look down. Aegis, Gaia and the rest of his gang were all looking up at him, faces coated with determination. With a deep breath, he flipped his backpack to his front, grabbed one of his experiments and snuck towards the fort. Massive, demon-like creatures swarmed the palace. Thankfully, Charles knew a thing or two about being stealthy.

More hasty, desperate scratches of chalk lined his path, scribbled onto any surface his friend could have reached. Just the imagined image of his friend being dragged along crushed his heart even more. The trail led him deep, deep into the basement. Metallic stench attacked him, accompanied by splotches of red splattered across the walls. He heard a growling voice down the hall, alongside some kind of whimpering. Heavy footsteps walked his way and he ducked behind a ledge as the demon walked past. Once the coast was clear, he turned the corner and saw the cage the demon had looked at.

Inside was the bloodied, bruised, battered form of Edwin. He was curled up as small as he could get, whimpering and sobbing. “Edwin?” The boy turned towards him, disbelief written all over his much paler than usual features. Charles wasted no time, pulling the lever to open the door. With the urgency of a man fleeing a bomb, he grabbed his partner’s hand and sprinted as fast as they could. He only stopped to grab his partner’s slugs, all of whom eagerly climbed up his arm and held on tight. Just as they burst from the castle, the hoard of demons caught onto the plan and began the chase. Creatures of all sorts raced after them, some kind of eel thing in particular seemed to freak Edwin out. When a few got too close, Charles chucked one of his particularly explosive experiments behind him. The blast sent the attackers tumbling back. Every time a demonic creature got to them, they received an explosive surprise.

The Gate came into, its green glow standing out from the red and black of the Deep. Just as the boys approached, the Gate opened just long enough to let them slip through. It closed right as they hit the ground of the cavern. Happy squealing echoed through the cavern, the Guardians celebrating as the two boys embraced each other on the ground, tears and sobbing joining their squeaks. The clan would give them a place to heal nearby, Edwin’s Boon Doc speeding the process along for the physical aspect. As for the mental part? Well, they would tackle that the way they did every other challenge. Together.

#dead boy detectives #slugterra #let the crossover continue #the brainrot is brainrotting #gods i love hyperfixating (ive been at this for hours)

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dr-hss · 4 months ago

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Maryam Jameelah (Margret Marcus), born in New York to a Jewish family explored Judaism and other faiths, converted to Islam in 1961 and emigrated to Pakistan. She is an author of over thirty books on Islamic culture and history and a prominent female voice for Islam. Below is her letter that she wrote to her parents from Pakistan:

“Dear Mother and Father,

I have now been living in Pakistan for more than twenty years during which time you have acquired an entire additional family of loved-ones there, adding much to your happiness. You have reached a ripe age, thank God, living longer in good health than I had ever expected. You have read all my books and Islamic literature I have sent you with a broad and open mind. Therefore you need no introduction to the subject I wish to discuss with you now and nothing I have to say will seem strange and new to you.

I wonder if you realize fully how very fortunate you are. So long as you can keep in reasonable health and are able to take care of yourselves, you can continue to enjoy a pleasant life. But do you ever think of the tragic faith of those hundreds of thousands of other older Americans, the victims of chronic illness and infirmities, who crowd to over-flowing hospitals and nursing homes (which are really charnel houses), the old-age homes and the senile wards of mental institutions? And do you ever think of those still greater numbers of older people who are widowed and live their lonely lives confined to their dingy rooms in constant fear of muggings, physical attacks and robberies by juvenile delinquents who prey on the old and infirm with no remorse or fear of punishment? The maltreatment of older people is a direct result of the collapse of the home and extended family. Does your elder sister – my aunt Rosalyn, a great-grandmother lovingly sheltered in a close and adoring family and a happy home, ever think how lucky she is and how few of her advanced age in America are left like her?

You must know that society in which you were brought up and have lived all your life is in a state of rapid disintegration on the brink of collapse. Actually the decline in our civilization was evident as far back as World War I but at that time few people except some intellectuals and artists were aware of what was happening. But since the end of World War II and especially during the last two decades, the rot has reached such a stage of advanced decay that nobody can any longer ignore it.

The moral anarchy in the absence of any respected, fixed standards of behavior and conduct, the obsession with perverted sex over the entertainment media, the mistreatment of older people, the divorce rate which has climbed so high that among the new generation, an enduring, happy marriage is becoming rare, child abuse, the destruction of the natural environment, the prodigious waste of scarce and valuable resources, the epidemic of veneral diseases and mental disorders, drug addiction, alcoholism, suicides as leading cause of death, crime, vandalism, corruption in the government and contempt for the law in general – all of this has a cause.

The cause of this is the failure of secularism and materialism and the absence of absolute, transcendental theological and moral values. Deed does in the final analysis depend upon creed because if the intention is wrong, the work always suffers.

No doubt that it may bore you to read this. You will protest that if you are not theologians, philosophers or sociologists, then why bother about such “deep” matters when they do not seem to be of any direct concern to you? After all, you are happy and content living just as you are. You only wish to enjoy life right now, live entirely in the present and accept each day as it comes. If life is a journey, is it not foolhardy only to be concerned with pleasant and comfortable accommodations along the way and never to think about the journey’s end? Why were we born? What is the meaning and purpose of life, why must we die and what will happen to each of us after death?

Father you have told me more than once that you cannot accept any traditional religion because you are convinced that theology conflicts with modern science. Science and technology have indeed given us much information about the physical world, provided us with abundant comforts and conveniences, increased efficiency and discovered remedies for many diseases that used to be fatal. But science does not and cannot tell us about the meaning of life and death. Science tells us “how” but it never answers the question “why”?. Can science ever tell us what is right and what is wrong? What is good and what is evil? What is beautiful and what is ugly? And to whom are we accountable for what we do? Religion does.

Today America is in many ways a repetition of ancient Rome in the terminal stages of her decline and fall. Thinking people know that secularism has failed to be a sound foundation of our social order. They are anxiously searching in other directions for a solution to the crisis but do not know yet where to find it. This is not of concern only to a few sociologists. The disease of national disintegration directly affects you and me and each one of us.

During its most critical period, ancient Rome adopted Christianity as its salvation and henceforth the Church dominated Europe for more than a thousand years. This put an end to many of the worst social and moral evils of decadent Rome and greatly raised the moral and spiritual standards of the people. Unfortunately during the formative period of its history, the Church compromised with paganism and secularism, adopting an elaborate priesthood and incomprehensive theology which could not resist the impact of the renaissance, the revival of the natural sciences and the radical secularism of the French Revolution. While Christians in Europe and America have deserted their faith wholesale leaving the churches almost empty, the missionaries continue to represent the vanguard of western imperialism and exploitation in Asia and Africa.

After Christianity, the Jews comprise the second largest religious group in America who dominate politically, and economically, as well exercising considerable control over the media. But Judaism has always been parochial and tribal, seldom welcoming converts. It is not and has never been a universal faith. The Zionist movement which resulted in the establishment of the state of Israel, is the secular expression of Jewish nationalism and tribalism. The dreadful atrocities committed by the Israelis in occupied Palestine, the unprovoked aggression in Lebanon and adjacent areas and attempted genocide of the Palestine Arabs, depriving them of all human and political rights, is the logical result of this same narrow parochial outlook. This is the reason why even the most orthodox of the rabbis refuse to believe that Israel can do any wrong and uncritically support everything she does. These glaring moral and spiritual defects automatically disqualify Judaism as the faith of the future.

The Muslims comprise the third and fastest growing faith in America today. No longer is Islam confined to remote regions of the deserts and jungles of Asia and Africa. No longer is Islam foreign to the American scene. There are more than three million Muslims in America today and their numbers are increasing fast. There are thousands of students from all Muslim countries studying in American universities, and well-educated, highly-trained Muslims are busily at work in all professions. In the last two decades, hundreds of native-born American converts have swelled their ranks. At first most of the converts were black people who found in Islam, dignity, honor, self-respect and racial brotherhood as did Malcolm-X, but in recent years more and more white converts of European origin, searching for guidance in all the affairs of their formally chaotic lives, have also embraced Islam, making many sacrifices and enduring much hardships to do so. Few of them are fortunate as I am to have loving parent like you. Most of them suffer severe frictions with their non-Muslim parents and relatives. Today churches and synagogues are almost deserted but the newly-built mosques and Islamic centers, springing up in every important American city and town, are attracting rapidly growing numbers. Most of the new Muslims in America are young, intelligent and well-educated. What attracts so many young Americans to Islam?

Americans today, both young and old, are desperately searching for guidance. They know from bitter experience that the personal freedom and opportunities they as Americans enjoy are meaningless and self-destructive without reliable guidance, direction and purpose. Secularism and materialism are powerless to provide any positive or constructive moral values for Americans either individually or collectively. That is why after Christianity and Judaism have failed them, more and more people in America today are turning towards Islam. In Islam as new Muslims, they find a sane, healthy, clean and honest life. And for Muslims, everything does not come to an end at death. They look forward to an Eternity of bliss, peace and perfect happiness (in the Hereafter).

This Guidance found in the Holy Qur’an and the recorded words and deeds of the Holy Prophet Muhammad, upon whom be peace, is not only for foreign races in some far-away corner of the East, centuries ago. Here are to be found the solutions to all economic, social, moral and political problems which face us right here in the West today. Furthermore, Islam is not cold, remote and impersonal. Muslims have complete faith in a very personal God who not only created, sustains and rules the universe but also loves and deeply cares about the fate of each of us. The Holy Qur’an tells us that God is nearer to everyone of us than our jugular veins!

Since the Holy Qur’an is divine revelation, it cannot and will never be changed. Because it is perfect, it cannot be improved, revised or reformed. Since Muhammad, upon whom be peace, is the final Prophet, his guidance can never be superseded by any other. The Qur’an and Sunnah are addressed to all peoples, in every country of the West as well as the East. Since it is relevant for all times, in all places, it can never become obsolete or out-of-date.

You are both of very advanced age and there is so little time left. Yet it is not too late if you act now. If your decision is positive, your ties with your loved ones in Pakistan will not only be by blood but also in faith. You cannot only love them in this world but be all together with us forever in eternity.

If your decision is negative, I am very much afraid that your happy, comfortable and pleasant life will very shortly come to an end. As soon as the inevitable occurs, it is too late for remorse and regrets. The punishment will be u from which there is no refuge and no escape.

It is as your daughter who loves you and hopes to the end that you will be spared this fate. But the decision rests entirely with you. You have complete freedom to accept or reject: Your future depends upon the choice you make now.

All my love and best wishes.

Your devoted daughter,

(Maryam Jameelah).

..sam31aout24

#الحديث النبوي #السنة النبوية #العلم #تفسير القرآن #القرآن الكريم #الاسلام #تدبر آية #شعر فصيح #ذكر #الدعاء

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wantonlywindswept · 2 years ago

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Mand’alor Grogu ficbit 3

one | two

i did have a good deal of this written; it was just not finished and was a different break in the story so it was awkward to post, hence the smol sad bit earlier

also my wife made me go to sleep

anyway

tw for past child abuse/injury, briefly mentioned

---

The slavers' deaths were briefly suspended: the children had been taken to the Temple.

Situated in the heart of Sundari, the Jedi Temple wasn't nearly as grand as the old one on Coruscant had been, but it had been built with growth in mind. The massive pagoda had added numerous floors over the course of Grogu's life, and the surrounding area had grown to match: the Temple was less of a singular structure these days and more of a district, with markets and residences and recreation areas just like the rest of the city.

No walls surrounded the Temple; there was no forced isolation for those within. Both Jedi and Mandalorians walked the grounds freely, living side-by-side, as had been intended when the very first stone was placed.

Mirn met them on the landing pad closest to the Hall of Healing, offering a perfunctory salute before falling into step as Grogu strode toward the entrance, Nadire and Tarikke following behind.

(His strides were, generally, not terribly long. But anything was possible through the Force, and neither of his parents had ever really discouraged cheating.)

"Mand'alor," Mirn greeted. The Selonian seemed calm despite her ruffled golden-brown fur, beskar armor scored from blaster bolts. "We had Master Balen with us on patrol today; he said that both of the children had unusual readings in the Force, so we brought them here for treatment instead of the Medcenter."

"Unusual how?"

Mirn, who was only slightly more Force-sensitive than a rock, tilted her head towards him bemusedly.

Grogu chuckled.

"Right. Nevermind."

They were met at the ornate doors by a tall Twi'lek with vibrant green skin, clad in the traditional black robes of the Grandmaster of the Order. She bowed deeply with both hands tucked into her sleeves, the movement effortlessly graceful.

"Mand'alor."

Grogu smiled.

"Cinna."

Cinna straightened up with an amused quirk to her lips. She was immensely powerful, and her gravitas commanded respect from most other beings, but it was hard for Grogu to feel the same when he'd known her at two years old and teething.

"The children?" he asked.

Cinna nodded, and motioned for them to follow.

"Two human boys, one nine years old, the other eight. They're both being treated for malnourishment and dehydration, and have injuries on their necks consistent with slave collars. The elder has three cracked ribs and the younger was struck with a whip."

Grogu heard Mirn growl behind him, low and dangerous. He kept a tight rein on his own emotions, well aware of how the boiling rage in his own chest could affect the hundreds of Force-sensitives living at the Temple if he let it escape his beskar-clad shields.

His father never had quite been able to train all the fury out of him.

"They're both powerful in the Force," Cinna continued, leading them down the steps deeper into the Temple, "But it was their presence that Balen noticed. They're connected to each other, of course, but they also seemed to feel--familiar, in a way."

"Familiar to him?" Grogu asked.

Cinna shook her head.

"Familiar to Mandalore itself."

Grogu lifted his eyebrows, humming curiously. Every planet had its own unique presence in the Force, to those aware enough to sense it, and Mandalore was no exception. Any time he returned from off world he felt soothed as soon as he set foot on the ground, reaching out through the Force and feeling the comfort of home settle back into his bones.

But for the planet to reach back?

He was going to inquire further, but as they drew closer to the Hall of Healing, a hazy blue figure wavered into existence right outside of the ornate doors.

Grogu stopped in his tracks.

"Oh sweet Force protect us," he breathed.

Grandfather was grinning.

It wasn't just a smile: it was a full-on shit-eating grin, wide and pleased and utterly shameless, and despite himself Grogu quickened his steps as he was excitedly waved over.

"Grogu!" Grandfather called, nearly bouncing on his feet in excitement. "Kid, come see, they're finally here!"

And then he walked right through the wall.

Grogu cursed and hurried after him, flicking open the doors with a twist of his fingers. The healers look startled as he rushed in, barely pausing to nod at them before chasing after his absolute gremlin of a grandfather. Anakin didn't stop until he made it to the children's ward, taking an abrupt left through the closed door of one of the smaller playrooms.

Grogu stopped outside to compose himself, settling his presence in the Force: making sure to completely banish his earlier anger and the ever-present irritation that came with dealing with his grandfather.

He inhaled a few deep, calming breaths, and knocked on the door.

#mandalorian fanfiction #mand'alor grogu #liz writes the mandalorian #grogu djarin #dinluke #now with bonus gremlin anakin

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jihoonmk · 1 year ago

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so, this is probably the latest i've ever been with an intro post (a week? i think....) anywho! it's just me, jiwoo's mun here with a 2nd (but not really a new muse, just bring life back to a muse who has actually lived a few times before and i have a special attachment to hehehe). meet kang jihoon, my sweet boy with quite a bit of trauma (which i won't get into here much + will make sure to use tw's as needed!).

he's my black bird manipulation baby who just wants to fit in and feel like he belongs somewhere. he can also do a bit of dream walking, but he's sort of afraid to use his minor ability due to the risks of it (listed on his profile).

anyway, i'll list below a few things to know about him for plotting purposes so if you'd like to plot with this boy here feel free to like this post and i'll slide into your dm's! (i will be getting to jiwoo's stuff tomorrow, i promise i haven't forgotten anyone. it's just been a really hectic week. ;;). of course i also have a discord but that's only available upon request if it's easier for you to plot there! ^^

things to know:

jihoon is from Melbourne, Australia where he previously lived with his mother and father (who was, and still is, completely unaware of this magical world that jihoon is a part of and he would very much like to keep it as a secret from the man for as long as he possibly can).

family death tw: his mother sadly passed away when he was 17 years old, leaving behind only jihoon and his father. her death took a major toll on not only jihoon, but his father as well (taking her death extremely hard to the point where he began to change after).

jihoon isn't exactly close to his father, even more so after everything that happened when it just became the two of them. it's part of the reason why he managed to 'train himself' to be 'invisible' in others' presences and learned to keep to himself when in rooms with other people.

abuse tw/alcohol tw/family death tw: after his mother's death, jihoon's father began drinking uncontrollably. it got so bad to the point that he began drunkenly taking his sorrow/anger out on jihoon, often beating him to make himself 'feel better' while dealing with the death of his wife. jihoon learned over time to just stay still and take the beatings that he received, knowing that if he tried to stop his father, run away, or even begged him to stop then the beatings would only get worse. eventually the man fled Australia and moved to busan in order to evade any of his wife's family, running out of excuses as to why they couldn't check up on jihoon and see how he was managing after his mother's passing.

the day that an elder visited jihoon, thankfully his father was too 'out of it' and passed out on the bedroom floor to even notice any visitors. this day was the one day that gave jihoon the slightest bit of hope of even having some sort of 'happiness' in his life. a life away from the not-so-perfect life that he has at home with his father.

it took quite a bit of convincing to finally get his father to agree and let him leave busan to go to 'seoul', telling the man that he would have a better 'job' opportunity there and that he'd be able to give the man even more money. thus giving jihoon the chance to get away from the man and more or less go into hiding where he could start a new life for himself in jeju.

it's only when jihoon arrives in jeju that he realizes he had never been on his own before, making him even more nervous and aware of his own surroundings. even after starting his studies, he mainly kept to himself and would be known as that one kid in the back of the class. the kid that was always so quiet and didn't have many friends, despite others actually trying to approach him to befriend him.

even now, in his junior year, jihoon has very few friends and mostly keeps to himself. he works in order to feed himself, is one of those students that always turns his work in on time, and can even be found gazing up at the starts most nights while lost in his own thoughts. no one really knows what's going on inside that head of his, and it seems that his only 'friend' is his companion (aside from the few that managed to break through those walls he had previously built up around himself).

#mk:intro #{ let's just pretend that this isn't 100 years late? c: }

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best-underrated-anime · 11 months ago

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Best Underrated Anime Group A Round 3: #A4 vs #A7

#A4: Immortal vampires with daddy issues and family drama

#A7: Immortal being learns what it’s like to be human

Details and poll under the cut!

#A4: Servamp

youtube

Summary:

A normal 15-year-old boy named Mahiru Shirota, who likes to keep things ‘simple’ and uncomplicated, finds a black kitten in an alleyway and decides to take him home. He names the cat Kuro. Mahiru later discovers that Kuro is actually a Servamp (a servant vampire), and that by giving him a name he has formed a contract with him. This results in him getting dragged into a war between the other vampires and a vampire-hunting organization called C3.

Propaganda:

Servamp deals with intergenerational trauma and how wars don’t always have a clear-cut good/bad guy. The main antagonist Tsubaki, the Servamp of melancholy, and his subclasses (people he turned into vampires) seem reluctant at times to fight/hurt Mahiru unless they feel like it is necessary, and they all clearly care about each other (evil found family). Tsubaki even seems to have a bit of a bleeding heart considering how often he brings in new people even if they aren’t good at fighting. But that doesn’t change the fact that he is willing to let the world burn to achieve his goals as long as his people aren’t hurt in the process.

Then you have C3, the vampire-hunting organization. They view themselves as protectors of humanity and are willing to do anything to defeat Tsubaki, even kidnapping Mahiru to try and convince him to work with them under threat of death.

Then you have how the different Servamps deal with immortality. You have Lily, the Servamp of lust, who takes in and raises kids who are abandoned or abused. If any of the kids died before he could save them, he turns them into his subclasses instead. Then, there is Kuro, the Servamp of sloth. He doesn’t have any subclasses because you can’t know if someone want to be immortal, and it is cruel to force that upon someone. And finally, Lawless, who, for some reason, has started to kill his eves (the people he forms a contract with) once he gets bored with them.

The anime also has some absolutely beautiful animation and music. Plus, all the characters are well written and fun. (Fun fact: the person who sings the opening “Deal With” also voices Tsubaki.)

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore, Suicide

#A7: To Your Eternity (Fumetsu no Anata e)

youtube

Summary:

Propaganda:

Trigger Warnings: Animal Cruelty/Death, Child Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore, Racism, Rape/Non-Con, Self-Harm, Suicide

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 3 #group a #tournament polls #servamp #to your eternity #fumetsu no anata e

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brookstonalmanac · 2 months ago

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Holidays 11.18

Holidays

Antibiotic Day (EU)

Army Day (Haiti)

Battle of Vertieres Day (Haiti)

Botox Cosmetic Day

Cabaret Day

Calvin & Hobbes Day

Chinita's Fair (Maracaibo, Venezuela)

Constitution Day (South Africa)

Day of Army and Victory (Haiti)

Day of Sergeants & Warrant Officers of the Armed Forces (Ukraine)

Did Moroz Day (Russia)

European Antibiotic Awareness Day

European Day on the Protection of Children Against Sexual Abuse & Sexual Exploitation

Family and Community Day (Australia)

Fish on Fridays OK Day

Flag Day (Solomon Islands; Uzbekistan)

Have Sex With A Guy With A Mustache Day [ website ]

Hel Anseilak (Elder Scrolls)

High Five a Librarian Day

Homeland War Victims Remembrance Day (Croatia)

International Cult Awareness Day

International Day for Child Sexual Abuse & Exploitation Prevention, Healing & Justice

International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Men

International Day of Islamic Art

International Day of LGBTQ+ People in Science, Technology, Engineering & Maths

International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day

Lenny Face Day (a.k.a. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°); Abeldane Empire)

Married To A Scorpio Support Day

Mickey Mouse Day

National Adoption Day

National Cash Back Day

National Day (Oman)

National Feline Infectious Peritonitis (FIP) Awareness, Research & Education Day

National Goodness Pays Day

National Injury Prevention Day

National Princess Day

Ned Ludd Memorial Machine-Smashing Day

Occult Day

Push-Button Phone Day

Quince Day (French Republic)

Rehang La Day (India)

Remembrance Day of the Sacrifice of Vukovar (Croatia)

Sergeant Day (Ukraine)

Sonic R Day

Standard Time Day (US)

Teddy Bear Day

Time Zones Day

Total Disregard for Taste Day

Vertieres Day (Haiti)

Virtual Reality Day

William Tell Day

World Adult Day (India)

World Day of the Anticoagulated Patent

World Day of Remembrance for Road Traffic Victims

World Day of Research for Health

World Fellowship Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

International Poitín Day

National Apple Cider Day

National I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter Day

National Vichyssoise Day

Independence & Related Days

Belcity (Declared; 2019) [unrecognized]

Lanevinia (Declared; 2018) [unrecognized]

Latvia (from Russia, 1918)

Morocco (from France & Spain, 1956)

Western Sahara (from Morocco, 1976)

3rd Monday in November

American Education Day [3rd Monday]

Manic Monday [3rd Monday of Each Month]

Meatball Monday [3rd Monday of Each Month]

Meditation Monday [Every Monday]

Monday Musings [Every Monday]

Motivation Monday [Every Monday]

Odd Socks Day [3rd Monday]

Revolution Day (Mexico) [3rd Monday]

Weekly Holidays beginning November 18 (3rd Full Week of November)

American Education Week (thru 11.22) [M-F before Thanksgiving Week]

GERD Awareness Week [3rd Week]

National Bible Week [3rd Week]

National Family Week [3rd Week]

National Game & Puzzle Week [3rd Week]

National Global Entrepreneurship Week (thru 11.24)

National Hunger & Homeless Awareness Week [3rd Week]

World Antibiotic Awareness Week [3rd Week]

World Antimicobial Awareness Week (thru 11.24)

World Nursery Rhyme Week [3rd Week]

Festivals Beginning November 18, 2024

Cologne Christmas Market (Cologne, Germany) [thru 12.23]

MFBF [Montana Farm Bureau Federation] Convention (Billings, Montana) [thru 11.21]

Middle East Organic & Natural Products Expo (Dubai, UAE) [thru 11.20]

Feast Days

Abhai of Hach (Syriac Orthodox Church)

Alan Dean Foster (Writerism)

Aleister Crowley Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Alphaeus and Zacchaeus (Christian; Saint)

Angrboda’s Blot (Pagan)

Ardvi Suva (Mother of Stars; Ancient Persia)

Barulas (Christian; Saint)

Bon Om Touk begins (Water Festival; Cambodia)

Charles Fort Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Constant (Christian; Saint)

Cornelis Ruhtenberg (Artology)

David Wilkie (Artology)

Dedication of Saints Peter and Paul (Christian; Saints)

Dios (Festival to the Sun God; Ancient Rome)

Discussion Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Dolores (Muppetism)

Elizabeth of Hungary (Church of England)

Embrace Chaos Day (Pastafarian)

Endre Rozsda (Artology)

Feast of the Dedication of the Basilica of St. Peter and of St. Paul (Roman Catholic)

Feast of the Virgen de Chiquinquirá or Chinita's Fair (Maracaibo, Venezuela)

Gabrielle (Muppetism)

Gaspar de Crayer (Artology)

Hap-Dancing and Tiger-Turning (Shamanism)

Hilda (a.k.a. Hild; Christian; Saint)

Jean Paul Lemieux (Artology)

Juthwara (Christian; Saint)

Lhabab Duechen (Descending Day of Buddha; Buddhism)

Louis Daguerre (Artology)

Mabyn (Roman Catholic Church and Anglicanism)

Margaret Atwood (Writerism)

Maudez (a.k.a. Mawes; Christian; Saint)

Nazarius (a.k.a. Nazaire; Christian; Saint)

Odo of Cluny (Christian; Saint)

Romanus of Caesarea (a.k.a. of Antioch; Christian; Saint)

Rose Philippine Duchesne (Christian; Saint)

Talk Like Donald Duck Day (Pastafarian)

William the Silent (Positivist; Saint)

Wyndham Lewis (Artology)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Lucky Day (Philippines) [63 of 71]

Sakimake (先負 Japan) [Bad luck in the morning, good luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

Achtung Baby, by U2 (Album; 1991)

Adam’s Rib (Film; 1949)

And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street, by Dr. Seuss (Children’s Book; 1937)

Ben-Hur (Film; 1959)

Blink-182, by Blink-182 (Album; 2003)

Brainwashed, by George Harrison (Album; 2002)

Britney, by Britney Spears (Album; 2001)

BURN-E (Pixar Cartoon; 2008)

Bushy Hare (WB LT Cartoon; 1950)

Calvin and Hobbes, by Bill Watterson (Comic Strip; 1985)

Cat and the Pinkstalk (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1978)

The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, by Mark Twain (Short Story; 1865)

A Christmas Story (Film; 1983)

A Date to Skate (Fleischer Popeye Cartoon; 1938)

Disenchanted (Film; 2022)

Dr. Schpritzer, I Presume? (George of the Jungle Cartoon; 1967) [#11]

The Edge of Seventeen (Film; 2016)

Fagin’s Freshman (WB MM Cartoon; 1939)

Fair Weather Fiends (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1946)

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Film; 2016)

The Fat Man (Super Chicken Cartoon; 1967) [#11]

The Froze Nose Knows (And and the Aardvark Cartoon; 1970)

Gidget Makes the Wrong Connection (Hanna-Barbera Animated TV Movie; 1972)

Gulliver’s Travels (Hanna-Barbera Animated TV Special; 1979)

Housewife Herman (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1938)

I Know What You Did Last Summer (2015)

Interplanet Janet (Science Rock Cartoon; Schoolhouse Rock; 1978)

It (TV Mini-Series; 1990)

I Tawt I Taw a Buddy Tat (WB LT Cartoon; 2011)

The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway, by Genesis (Album; 1974)

The Land Before Time (Animated Film; 1988)

Léon: The Professional (Film; 1994)

Made in Heaven, by Queen (Album; 1995)

Malcolm X (Film; 1992)

The Menu (Film; 2022)

Merlin the Magic Mouse (WB MM Cartoon; 1967)

Monkey Wretches (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1935)

MTV Unplugged in New York, by Nirvana recorded (Album; 1994)

Oedipus, by Voltaire (Play; 1718)

Oliver & Company (Animated Disney Film; 1988)

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (Novella; 1962)

Pink Daddy (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1978)

Porky the Giant Killer (WB LT Cartoon; 1939)

Powderpuff Girls (Animated TV Series; 1998)

Radio, by LL Cool J (Album; 1985)

ReLoad, by Metallica (Album; 1997)

Star Trek: Generations (Film; 1994)

Steamboat Willie, featuring Mickey Mouse (Ub Iwerks Disney Cartoon; 1928) [1st Sound Cartoon]

The Swan Princess (Animated Film; 1994)

Unplugged in New York, recorded by Nirvana (Musical Concert; 1993)

Up All Night, by One Direction (Album; 2011)

Walk the Line (Film; 2005)

The Wall, by Jean-Paul Sartre (Short Stories; 1939)

The Winter of Our Discontent, by John Steinbeck (Novel; 1961)

Today’s Name Days

Odo, Philippine (Austria)

Leonard, Odo, Pavao, Petar, Roman (Croatia)

Romana (Czech Republic)

Hesychius (Denmark)

Ilo, Ilu (Estonia)

Jousia, Max, Tenho (Finland)

Aude (France)

Alda, Bettina, Odo, Roman (Germany)

Plato, Platonas (Greece)

Jenő (Hungary)

Aida, Oddone (Italy)

Aleksandrs, Brive, Doloresa (Latvia)

Ginvydas, Ginvydė, Otonas, Romanas, Salomėja (Lithuania)

Magne, Magny (Norway)

Aniela, Cieszymysł, Filipina, Galezy, Klaudyna, Odo, Otto, Roman, Tomasz (Poland)

Platon (Romania)

Eugen (Slovakia)

Odón, Román (Spain)

Lillemor, Moa (Sweden)

Roma, Roman, Romanna, Romona (Ukraine)

Odelia, Odell, Odo, Sutherland, Sutton (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 323 of 2024; 43 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of Week 47 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Hagal (Hailstone) [Day 23 of 28]

Chinese: Month 10 (Yi-Hai), Day 18 (Bing-Xu)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 17 Heshvan 5785

Islamic: 16 Jumada I 1446

J Cal: 23 Wood; Twosday [23 of 30]

Julian: 5 November 2024

Moon: 89%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 15 Frederic (12th Month) Ximenes]

Runic Half Month: Nyd (Necessity) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Autumn or Fall (Day 57 of 90)

Week: 3rd Full Week of November

Zodiac: Scorpio (Day 26 of 30)

#Holidays

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