#yeah that's baron here

[tervaneula]

Aaaaaaa gosh @spacemimz and @wraenata THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I have never opened up a new canvas as fast as I did when I saw your butterfly suggestions ououghfgh

Old man Mikey so happy and in peace ;-;

We also get an extra because obviously I'm going to take this chance to doodle the wife Draxum:

[19thcenturylover]

Wingbaron yuri but cats

I'm still on this ship, but I'm a bit embarrassed to keep drawing it and I don't have many ideas, also I'm a little focused on an au of this but aja AJDJJD. But anyways, I made this drawing a month ago but I forgot to post it and tbh, it's one of my favorites of the year :3

Kitty yuri :P (I wanted to do something more detailed and I loved it)

And this fast doodle for my au jiji :3 (Sam's wings are "organic" in this kitty versión,, yea :P

[emry-stars-art]

I hate drake so much i hope he dies a painful death in your royal AU 😡

Fairly certain this is gonna be a common agreement yes

Honestly in one version of events I just imagine Drake making a stupid mistake in a battle or border dispute and getting himself killed like a coward or an idiot because he is both of those things

In ANOTHER version I was talking about with @jtl-fics and @paradoxolotl we can make it as dramatic as we want ✨

And honestly I’ve been meaning to write it! I even started writing it, but as I went I realized it has the potential to get wayyy out of hand by way of scenes (in that it would become several scenes bc there’s so much to cover) so instead of waiting to be fully finished, I am going to give us all an early sparknotes or summary of events

What I DID write all the way was what might happen when Abram and the prince run into Spear at a ball/event: here.

(⬆️POV you are a very stupid baron and you’ve just made your very last mistake)

Find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕

After all that (the snippet) goes down, Spear is probably very angry. How dare the prince act so ungrateful to his family, how dare he be threatened by the Evermore mutt, and how dare he be publicly embarrassed like that. He’s too proud to even go fume about it on his own. He’s always had people and things to take his anger out on. So he reverts back to what he knows.

No one in the castle stops him on his search of the halls. They all recognize the Spear family - of course the Spears visited often, at least before, and often enough to send their prince to live with them. The twins and anyone else in the know about the prince’s time there are extremely private about it. The staff that see Spear have no reason to think anything of his presence at all.

But Abram is still standing watch at Andrew’s door, and he doesn’t seem about to leave. Spear likely thinks it doesn’t matter much - the brat is small and unassuming except for those nasty scars. Abram even gets distracted by a small crash coming from the direction of the stairs, wandering a little way down to see.

It should have been obvious not to underestimate an official royal bodyguard. Spear hasn’t even touched the door before Abram is there, pinning an arm behind his back as something sharp again presses to Spear’s jacket. The surprise knocks Spear against the prince’s door before Abram pulls him up and back a few steps.

Andrew does answer. Likely he thought it was Abram knocking, but as soon as he sees Spear he freezes. Spear doesn’t even have time to revel in the fear he caused - Abram uses all his weight to swing Spear around and shove him hard against the far wall. What Spear vainly thought was an empty threat before feels suddenly much more real, the way Abram doesn’t try to be at all gentle or careful. The blade is biting into Spear’s clothes.

And Spear is angry. The Evermore filth on him, the gall to treat Spear like this when Spear should be allowed to trample this brat under his horse. The brat thinking he had any say over the Palmetto prince.

He snarls, “Andrew, control your dog!”

And he doesn’t see it, but that snaps a little of Andrew’s panic. The only thing more potent than Andrew’s memories is his white hot anger at Abram’s, and even though Abram doesn’t react, Andrew absolutely refuses to let that slide.

Spear hears, “Dont let him touch you,” and then he’s released. Finally, he can get a little justice for this treatment. He turns and raises a hand to strike Abram.

Abram takes off his hand as he swings.

Andrew gets full oversight on Spear’s punishment. They have him convicted of untoward behavior, trespassing, and then Andrew allows ‘attempted destruction or harm of royal property’ only when he’s told it adds heavy consequence.

Really, it doesn’t matter all that much. Everyone in that room for the proceedings knows why he’s really there, and maybe those three charges wouldn’t always add up to a death sentence, but Aaron has been waiting for this chance. He adds ‘intention of treason’ to the trespassing charge and tells Andrew to do what he will.

Andrew doesn’t let Abram near it when they carry out the sentence. He does go through with some of his plans for Drake - he won’t ever make Drake pay 1:1 for what he’s done, but the magnitude would have been similar, had they gotten that far. They don’t, though. Andrew is doing just fine watching the proceedings, letting it pass through his eyes and ears and only be remembered when he really wanted. He had been sure he wanted this, he’d been sure it would be satisfying and cathartic. But he wasn’t feeling those things as much as he should have been.

Part of the punishment for treason is flogging. Andrew sees the strikes fall and it looks vaguely familiar. He’s seen those wounds and scars before. And suddenly it comes to him all at once; he doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to watch this. He just wants Drake dead. He wants Abram.

So he moves for the first time in several minutes.

“Enough. I’m finished.”

Aaron gives him a look but gestures to the soldiers or whoever else. Andrew stands and goes to leave and there’s a scuffle behind him, yells and pounding feet. Something unsheathed and then a heavy, sickening thud. Maybe even a cut off scream.

Even then he doesn’t turn around. He can’t make himself. Spear had charged him, he understands distantly. He doesn’t know who was just struck, but the only person that should have been so close to him was his brother.

He whispers, “…Aaron?”

“Go, Andrew,” Aaron says quietly, and Andrew finally breathes again. “Abram is waiting.”

So Andrew does go, and he spends a long time holding Abram, assuring himself that Abram is there in one piece and isn’t being harmed, Drake is no longer there and can’t harm anyone else. Maybe this is far enough in that Andrew can even let himself be held, too. So he does find the catharsis and satisfaction, but not in watching Drake suffer. Just in the fact that Abram allows him close enough to hold, to play with his hair, to fall asleep there curled up in the middle of his bed. Unused mattress to every side and no space between them.

[baronafanas002]

🦇In order 4-5-6 🦇

[iridescentoracle]

yes it's 1:47am on a friday and i am thinking about girl genius instead of going to bed

i cannot stop thinking about the theoretical possibility of a twin reveal happening in skifander. like i know we just had that light tease on monday of a maybe-reveal but i'll believe it when i see it and also i think a skifander reveal actually has an even higher chaos potential. i have like five different half-formed reveal scenarios floating around in my head right now and at least two of them involve someone actively trying to murder gil but i think my favorite at this exact moment is the idea of zeetha introducing everyone to her mom & company, with gil somewhere in the middle. zantabraxus spends the rest of the introductions being Very Normal And Polite To The Visitors and absolutely not doing anything to let on to anyone around her that she has any particular interest in gil.

at the earliest opportunity that won't draw attention she asks zeetha to bring gil (SUBTLY) to zanta's chambers/whatever so the three of them can have a nice private talk. gil's response is "oh so she does want me dead then" because he has in fact been getting some extremely weird and very intense vibes off her this whole time and he's known for ages his dad was obviously wrong about zeetha wanting him dead but he generally didn't get ideas like that out of nowhere so uhhhh Weird Intense Vibes zeetha's mom is pretending aren't there = she's the one klaus thought might intend to murder gil for some reason??

zeetha naturally laughs that off and drags him to meet zanta properly. the vibes remain Weird and Intense for about fifteen seconds as she just kind of stares at him silently for a minute before abruptly hugging him and saying something about how much she's missed him and how he's grown up so well and etc etc etc

gil, very confused, trying not to reflexively judo-flip a queen: zeetha, fully delighted by just how right she was continuing to Not Tell Him was absolutely the funniest option: [after a minute] zanta (realizing something is Up here and letting go of gil): …zeetha zanta: you did tell your brother what he was walking into and how skifander feels about twins before you brought him home, right? zeetha, cheerfully: nope! gil: her WHAT—

[lemonadeandlanguages]

"I love ordering books online, it's so convenient!"

The books:

[familyofpaladins]

The Pizza Game (Chp 4)

Chapter 4: Mikey Orders a Pizza

Chapter 1 | <Chapter 3 | X | Chapter 5>

Ao3 link

Summary:

Mikey opens a time gateway. (But not the gateway you're thinking of) words: 3423

Notes:

Bit of a time skip from the last chapter! We are still in Angstville. :3 I rewrote sections of this chapter like 3 times, so I hope the final result is okay

Michelangelo sat in the Middle of his room, books and scrolls surrounding him.

I can do this. I can do this. He repeated to himself as he took a steadying breath. (He ignored his trembling hands).

For all the years and scrolls and books he had searched for and researched, creating a Time Gateway wasn’t actually that complicated.

But years it had taken.

---

Mikey had demanded that Draxum help him find the time scepter or relics. Draxum had refused, but only because he knew that the items Michelangelo wanted no longer existed, if they ever did in the first place.

Then Mikey begged Draxum to help him look for it anyway or for any way to get his brother back. It was in the wake of Raphael’s death, and his determination was the most alive Mikey had looked in months. He needed to find some possible way to fix things. That was when Draxum caved and agreed to help him find a way to create a Time Gateway.

Draxum only knew about the theory of them in general, he could not perform the ritual himself. But he knew they were risky and usually required multiple masters to have enough power to perform one.

Mikey didn’t let any of that deter him.

Mikey was then told of where they could possibly obtain the knowledge necessary to learn how to make a time gateway. Draxum and Mikey told everyone that they were going to complete Michelangelo’s mystic training to become a master. That was true, it was one of the reasons that Draxum agreed to the search, that in doing so they would also finish his mystic training at the remaining strongholds of Mystic Teachings.

And then they had left. Over the next two years Michelangelo and Draxum found the texts to learn how to make a time gateway together, though Draxum was still wary of it, claiming the process to be very risky, both for the casters, and for time itself.

However, on the journey they found something else.

They had found that the empyrean had actually been created by the Krang’s arrival centuries ago. They found a way to mystically reverse engineer it to push back the Krang.

They had made headway over the next couple of years in the fight against the krang and gained land and resources. With the war finally turning in their favor, Mikey had other things to focus on and his plans for the time gateway were pushed to the side, even though his grief had dulled but never disappeared.

And then the krang found a way to negate the mystic attacks. The war had stalled for another 2 years, and they lost Baron Draxum during that time.

Then the krang found a way to turn the mystic attack against them, and they scrambled to hold their ground.

And then Michelangelo lost another brother, and gained a new reason to try for a time gateway.

---

According to everything he read on the matter, the only things needed to create a Gateway was: Focus and Conviction set on a clear point in time of when you wanted the gateway to open to, and an immense amount of energy to tunnel through the stream of time.

(That last part was what Barry had been worried about the most. It’ll be fine, don’t think about it.)

And okay. It was a little more complicated than just thinking about When you wanted the gateway to open. There was a lot that had to deal with sensing the flow of time, and following it back (or forward but that was more complicated) and staying connected within your own timeline and not fracturing it and possibly destroying your own time line in the process before even getting there.

Draxum had worried over that too, saying the gateway wasn’t worth the risk. But he wasn’t here to stop him, Mikey thought bitterly. Neither was his most overprotective brother. Nor the brother who had the most to say about the possibilities of time travel.

That was why Mikey had to practice now, get used to the flow of linear time, and how to reach back in it. Reach back, open a gate, and pull something (some One) Back.

He couldn’t worry about the possibility of only being able to do it once. He had to be able to do it twice. So this first attempt was just practicing. If he messed it up, he didn’t want to get stuck in a time loop of his brother dying. (Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. Focus.)

He had to focus on something else. Some other time. Some other time with something he could put enough conviction in to focus on…

Well. They certainly had joked about it enough.

Mikey was going to order a pizza.

He raised his hands. Moved them in the specific pattern the scrolls said to. Felt the flow of time around him, focused on When he was wanting to go, and Reached.

It was a weird feeling. Cold rushed past him, but there was a warm chord of time he was following that connected to when he wanted to go. Trying to expand the cord into a tunnel felt like standing at the bottom of a waterfall and trying to swim upwards.

He pulled a little more from the well of mystic energy he had inside to push forward (backward? FOCUS).

He could do this. He had to do this.

He needed his brothers back.

He had to be able to do this. Just a little more.

A little more.

Come on, come on!

He could feel the push and pull of the time stream.

“Mikey?”

He just had to keep pushing, put just a little more energy into it-

“Mikey?!”

Focus. He had to focus. This couldn’t work if he was distracted.

“What are you doing?! Mikey stop!” The pleas of his (last remaining) brother were ignored. He had to FOCUS-

“Michelangelo! STOP!” The cold (hot? It felt like they were burning) hands that shook his shoulders sent him out of the timestream, faster than he had entered it. He gasped like he’d actually been holding his breath. In the dying light of the orange gateway, that had been about the size of a quarter (that was all the bigger it had gotten?) he saw Leonardo’s concerned and slightly panicked face.

Michelangelo glared at him.

“Why did you do that?! Why did you stop me?! I was So Close!” he growled. (It was a lie)

“So close to what? Mikey, what were you even doing?! Do you see what it did to you?”

“I was-“ He cut himself off. How could he explain this? “I’m fine!”

“Michelangelo. No you’re not.” Leo gently took Mikey’s hands, and he looked down at them.

There were cracks that covered his hands and spread up to his elbows. They were bleeding ever so slightly.  Well, Shit. That hadn’t ever happened before. He hadn’t noticed it at all before, but now he could feel the pain seeping into his limbs.

“Oh…. Ow.”

“Yeah ‘ow’” Leo sighed. “Sit on the bed, big man.” Leo said as he guided Mikey into sitting.

Mikey stared at his hands. Was this what Draxum had been so worried about? Pulling from the source of his mystic energy, his ninpo, and using too much it was actually pulling him apart too?

“Let me see your hands” Leo said, kneeling in front of him, holding bandages and other medical supplies. When had he stepped away to grab them? Mikey rested his hands on his brother’s metal one (Mikey had been on his journey when Leo lost the real one. He tried not to feel guilty about not being there). The movement stretched the cracks and he winced.

He couldn’t help but think how 20 years ago he might have asked for some pain relief, but it was a rare commodity now, only used in extreme cases, and this was far from the worst pain he’d ever muscled through.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Leo wiped the blood away, and applied a very thin amount of antiseptic to the cracks.

“So you gonna tell me what you were doing, that caused this?” Leo asked conversationally as he began to wrap his hands. Leo was looking at the wrappings, but Mikey still avoided his brother’s face and looked around the room. It looked like a whirlwind had swept through and threw all his books and belongings every which way. He remembered the feeling of cold sweeping past him and wondered if maybe a whirlwind HAD swept through.

His brother was still looking at the bandages he was wrapping around his arms, giving him space, but Mikey knew he was still waiting on an answer. Where to start?

“I was…” Mikey chuckled wetly, “I was trying to order a pizza.” His voiced cracked on the last word.

Leo turned his head at that, eyebrow raised in confusion, but the corner of his mouth was twitching at the remark.  “You were… ordering a pizza?”

“In a way…” Mikey chuckled before sighing.

Leonardo was done with the bandages and sat on the bed, shoulder to shoulder with his brother. Mikey leaned into him. 35(34?) years old, and he still leaned on his older brother.

“Do you remember that one time we were talking about pizza?”

“Gonna have to be more specific there, Miguel.” Mikey butted his head against the shoulder he was leaning on.

“When we were talking about summoning pizzas?”

“Haha, yeah I remember that! And old Barry said you’d need a dimension filled with pizza for it to work? Don’t tell me you found a pizza dimension” Leo chuckled.

“No, no pizza dimension, sorry,” Mikey hummed.

“Darn.”

Mikey fiddled with the edge of his bandages before he spoke again.

“And do you remember how Donnie said it was too bad we couldn’t just travel back in time to get one?” He felt his brother stiffen. “And then Draxum said that time travel was possible but you needed a time scepter or a gateway, but that pizza wasn’t worth the risk of messing it up?”

Mikey could feel Leo looking at him. Mikey couldn’t look back at him, kept going, knowing if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to start again.

“And, and do you remember how me and Barry were gone for two years to complete my mystic training, after-“ deep breath”-after Raph died?”

“Yeah?” Mikey could hear the confusion and concern in his voice.

“I- I asked Draxum to help me find a time scepter or whatever, but he said they didn’t exist, but I kept asking about anyway to go back. And then he agreed to teach me how to make a time gateway.”

“Mikey.”

‘I- I just wanted to get Raph back!” Mikey plowed on, “You and Donnie were so angry and upset! Without Raph you were both throwing yourselves into fights and I was afraid I’d lose you too! And and I wanted him back too! So I made Barry teach me! On that trip I found all the books I needed, but it still took time to learn, and then we found out about the empyrean and we started winning and I- I stopped working on the gateway, trying to finish the fight with the Krang! And I forgot about it! And then- and now- now Donnie is dead too-” Mikey was sobbing by the end, voice cracking so bad the words barely made it out.

“Oh Mikey” Leo breathed, eyes wet, turned and wrapped him in tight hug, letting Mikey sob into his chest.

It’d been only two weeks since Donatello’s death.

“I want our brothers back, Leo. How are we supposed to do this without them?”

“I don’t know Mikey. I don’t know” And Oh. Oh shit. Leo was crying now too.

Mikey knew that Leo took Raph’s death very hard. They all did, of course, but Leo especially. They’d been co leading missions and supply runs and just watching each other’s backs. When one couldn’t handle the load, the other took it up. But then Raph was gone and Mikey himself had gone on a Mystic Journey for almost two years leaving them alone. So Leo and Donnie had relied on each other even more than before. And now Donnie was gone too. Mikey should have been more surprised by how well Leo had been holding himself together.

Mikey now realized why his brother had looked so panicked when he stopped him from opening the gateway. He didn’t want to lose his last brother.

“Shit, I’m sorry Leo” he cried and hugged his brother harder.

“Shhh Mikey” Leo whispered and rubbed soothing circles on his shell. He didn’t say it was okay, because nothing was okay.

They sat in silence for a while longer. Part of him was ashamed for crying so much when they were already surrounded by so much death and destruction. The other part of him (Dr. Feelings? Hadn’t heard from Him in a while) said that this was needed, that keeping everything locked up would just cause problems later.

They held each other and shared their grief for a few more minutes. Then they finally untangled themselves, and went back to leaning shoulder to shoulder.

“So this,” Leo pointed to his damaged arms, “was caused from you trying to open a time gateway?”

“Yeah,” Mikey sniffled.

“Guess this is why Draxum said you needed a team of sorcerers huh.”

“Yeah, trying to push the gateway through time was pretty tough. Guess it was a good thing you stopped me, I hadn’t even noticed the cracks.” Mikey rubbed at his arms, the more they sat there the heavier and more sore they felt.

“Even though you said you were close?” Leo asked, concern once again on his face.

“I wasn’t. Not really,” Mikey admitted. “I’d say I only got about… 60%? of the way there? But I was…. Also trying to go farther back than I really needed to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t kidding, earlier, when I said I was trying to get a pizza.”

Leo raised a brow in question.

“I was practicing. Seeing if I could even do it at all. Figure out how it feels to navigate the time stream. We joked about it so much,” Mikey chuckled wetly, “I thought I’d practice by pulling a pizza from the past.”

“Oh my god. You really did try to order a pizza via time travel” Leo said face palming, but Mikey saw a hint of smile, so he’d call it a win. “Wait, you were just going to pull the pizza through, not you go through the gateway itself?”

“Yeah that was the plan, though I’m not sure if it would have worked like that. That’s why I was testing it. I thought… I thought if I could just- just go back in time to right before they died, that maybe I could bring them here. Nothing else would be changed, we’d just get them back in the here and now.”

“Mikey, I’m not sure that would have worked anyway.”

“And why not?” Mikey demanded. He had worked too hard, to be told it was a fruitless endeavor (even if he already knew it).

“Because they did die,” Mikey refused to look at the purple and red bandanas tied around the sword handle that proved it. “And if you would manage to bring them here… It means you’d have pulled them from some other Time line, breaking it into branching timelines.”

“You sound like Donnie,” Mikey grumbled. Leo just smiled sadly.

“And if you did do that,” Leo continued, “you would have just made another timeline where we still lose a brother. And I don’t think either of them would want that.”

Oh.

Mikey hadn’t thought about it like that.

He still didn’t like it.

“I suppose you’re going to order me to not attempt it again?” Mikey asked, expecting a resounding “you bet your shell!”

But he was met with silence.

“Leo?”

“Well, I can’t really order you to do anything. But… I… don’t think you should try again, for pizza or our brothers,” Mikey pretended not to notice the tremor in his voice on that last word. “It seems too much of a risk for you to lose yourself in trying, and my Ninpo isn’t strong enough to help either.”

Leo paused and stared at his hands.

“Master Splinter used to say something about not wallowing in bad things of the past, that we just have to make do with what we have now. That all our experiences, good and bad, help to shape who we are.”

Mikey could remember his dad saying something like that. He thinks it had originally been said about his own fate of being forced to fight in the Battle Nexus and then captured by Draxum and mutated into a rat. And that while those events were awful for him, he wouldn’t change it for the world, because it had also given him his sons.

“So you’re saying that if we go and start trying to fix all the bad things in the past, we might miss out on the good things that also come from them?”

“Now you’re getting it,” Leo smiled at him.

“Like the finding out about the empyrean when I left after…?”

“Yeah. It helped us push back the Krang, and regain some area and resources.”

“But it didn’t last for very long…” Mikey said dejectedly.

“No, I guess it didn’t, but maybe it gave us enough time and space to find another way to finish them off for good. We still have hope that we can turn things around. As long as there’s hope that we can fix things here in the present, we shouldn’t use time travel. That… time travel will be the last possible course of action, Okay?”

“Okay, as long as you promise me you won’t die too,” Mikey knew that Leo couldn’t really promise that. But he needed his brother. Needed to know he wouldn’t throw himself into danger recklessly in vengeance or self-sacrificially.

“I promise to do my best to stay alive, as long as you do too.” That was really the best he could ask for in the situation.

“Ha, I can do that.” Mikey huffed a laugh. He continued, “So ordering pizza via time travel is a last resort, huh?”

Leo laughed the first real good laugh Mikey had heard in a long time, “Is that what-“

“What you said 15 years ago when we first had the conversation about time travel? Yep!” Mikey popped the p.

“Oh real funny old man!” Leo laughed, and locked an arm around his younger brother and gave him a good noogie.

“Old Man! Have you seen the wrinkles you’ve got!” Mikey said, affronted, while he failed to wiggle out of the hold.

“Not as many as you! And all that grey hair!”

“Excuse you! This is not hair, NOR grey! And it makes me looked distinguished, thank you very much!” Mikey said with a flip of said hair. (It was actually algae that had grown while on his mystic journey with Draxum. He had been going to get rid of it, but the rolling laughter it gave Donnie at seeing the look of jealousy on Leo’s face, that Mikey got to have Hair when he didn’t… well, Mikey decided to keep it).

“It makes you look like an old man!” Leo laughed.

“You’re just jealous.” Mikey sang.

“I am not! I-“ Leo was interrupted by his communicator beeping.

“Sensei?” The high pitched voice of a 12 year old Casey asked, “Have you found Master Michelangelo yet?”

“OH RIGHT! Yeah Casey, I got him, be there in a minute!”

“Understood, Sensei!” The call ended. Mikey raised an eyebrow.

“What was that about? And Yeesh, that kid needs to relax. He knows he doesn’t have to call you that all the time right?”

“I’ve TRIED to tell him that! But the kid just won’t have it,” Leo sighed, throwing his hands up in the air, but he had a fond smile on his face. “And he made something he wants to show us, and I was supposed to come get you. We better get going.”

As Mikey followed his brother out of the room, he thought to himself, that as long as he had people he cared about, like his brother and Casey and April, around, that everything would be okay. He would keep looking forward.

<<Beginning | <Prev | | Next>

[justalittlebluetiefling]

I tripped and clicked on the first episode of A Crown of Candy again uh oh

[livelaughlovelams]

Oh man, just let me inhale, and I can ramble individually about random figures in the American Revolution who nobody cares about, and then the war in general, and if we have an extra 3 hours, I'll recite all Hamilton.

Just you wait.

😏

the spn drama could take a whole year to explain in the least so i’m good

[omgellendean]

So, Sacha Baron Cohen recently endorsed Kamala Harris in a fittingly racist islamophobic manner, by bringing back his character Borat. Yes, it's 2024.

Anyway, here's a 2022 investigation of SBC's vile Zionism and connections to the USA and Israeli intelligence, as well as an insight into the role of the US-American cinema as a propaganda tool.

Article: https://www.mintpressnews.com/closer-scrutiny-reveals-close-state-power-sacha-baron-cohen-really/279355/

Archived link: https://archive.is/7dSTL

Some quotes:

When asked about the national security state’s role in shaping pop culture, the former intelligence officer [John Kiriakou] said that it is “far more cynical” than most people realize, explaining:

” There is a branch inside the CIA’s Office Of Public Affairs whose job is solely to work with Hollywood Studios. This is something that the FBI has been doing since the 1940s. They’ll cooperate and give the red carpet treatment to any Hollywood studio that’s willing to make the CIA look good. “ [...]

In the end, “Brüno’s” production company did interview someone they claimed was a terrorist (in the Letterman interview, Baron Cohen described the man as such eight times in the space of three minutes). However, the person in question – Palestinian grocer and NGO worker Ayman Abu Aita – vigorously denied he was a terrorist at all. He claimed that Baron Cohen had told him the interview would be about his peace activism and that his life and business had been destroyed as a result. Abu Aita sued for nearly $100 million. The case was settled for an undisclosed sum in 2012. [...]

Even from an early age, Sacha was reportedly obsessed with the Jewish state. “He was very Zionist, very involved in Habo,” recalled one friend, referring to Habonim Dror, a left-wing Zionist group of which he was a member. Others remembered him as “a very nerdy, very funny, Israel-oriented guy” who went to live on a kibbutz in his youth. He appears to idolize Shimon Peres, traveling to meet him in 2012 and sharing quotes from the former Israeli president on his social media accounts. Peres, of course, oversaw the genocide of Palestinians in 1948, attempted to sell nuclear weapons to Apartheid South Africa, and carried out the ethnic cleansing of the Galilee region. [...]

Unsurprisingly, Baron Cohen has also campaigned fiercely against the Boycott Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement, presenting it as viciously antisemitic. “Boycotting? Yeah, fantastic. As long as they are Jews, it is alright. I’m not a racist, but keep the Jews out,” he said, in an attempt to satirize their position. [...]

Much of the movie is actually spent “on location” in “Kazakhstan,” where Borat takes the viewer around an unimaginably poor-looking village, making fun of how backward “his people” are. There are no Western egos or ignorance being punctured here. In fact, it was shot in a gypsy encampment in Romania, where locals were paid around $3 each to be humiliated by a man who spoke to them in a language they did not understand. The villagers were told they were appearing in a sympathetic documentary highlighting their lives. “Borat” made over $262 million at the box office. [...]

The racism was further amplified with the 2020 release of “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm.” Within the first two minutes of the sequel, Borat informs us that Kazakhstan has canceled their traditional event, “the running of the Jew,” but fortunately his country still has Holocaust Remembrance Day, “when we commemorate our heroic soldiers who ran the camps.” Borat also received an award, which he stated will be “put in our national museum along with other treasure we have confiscated from Jews.” [...]

In actual fact, as many have pointed out, Kazakhstan was a haven for Jewish people during the Holocaust, not a perpetrator of it, saving thousands of Jewish lives by taking in people from Eastern Europe and other states of the U.S.S.R. Today, the country is commended by Jewish groups as a model of tolerance. It is also, notably, not a helplessly sexist nation; Save The Children ranked it higher than the United States in its list of best countries to grow up female.

This is a rather inconvenient truth for the Israeli state-building project Baron Cohen supports. Ironically, perhaps the most shocking and newsworthy case of exposing bigotry Baron Cohen has documented has never been revealed. While in character as Brüno in Jerusalem, Baron Cohen was beaten nearly to death by an enraged crowd of homophobic Israelis, who, angered by his camp and sacrilegious attire, started stoning him, on camera. Baron Cohen was reportedly “nearly killed.” Kiriakou told MintPress that Baron Cohen told him that a rabbi even spat on him. It was the only time in his career that he broke character and desperately yelled that he was an Israeli Jew, not a homosexual foreigner. The comedian fled for his life and found refuge in a nearby store bathroom. This footage has never seen the light of day. Perhaps it sends the “wrong” message.

[juiles]

Horror Movie Queen

Requested: yes

Summary: a teen reader whos done a bunch of horror movies is filming a scene where she has to scream, freaks everyone out in the cast. Italics is the filmed scene.

Tags: really just fluff except one mention of torture and hitting

Masterlist here.

Request form here.

Taglist here:

A/N: Its short but its something new. i think im getting back to writing again so thats exciting!!

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

Y/n sat staring at the star studded cast in front of her at the reading table. Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Holland, Elizabeth Olsen. It was wild all the people she had spent her whole life looking up to, and here she was, about to film a whole Marvel movie with them.

This was new territory for her too. A whole new genre of movie, different from the horror movies she was known for. The rest of the cast didn’t watch her movies so they didn’t know how she worked.

“Y/n? You okay?” Chris Evans asked waving his hand around in front of her face. “You zoned out there.” He added softly to the teen who flushed slightly and nodded looking down at her hands. “Have you done enough reading now? Are you ready to get into costume and makeup?”

Y/n paused for a moment picking at her fingers before she looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Ill go get ready. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” She took a quick glance around at everyone who shot her small nods before she disappeared. When she finally came to set, fully ready for her scene, her manager waved her over.

“Okay… lets get this over with guys.” She said, her manager chuckling at the bored look on the teenagers face that was currently covered in bruises and blood, her clothes hanging off of the girls frail body, a gash across her face where a scar usually sat on her characters face.

She was filming her background scene, how her character, Maddison, got where she was, fighting with the Avengers. The torture and pain the character had gone through obvious with the way she was dressed. “Alright you, are you ready to scream?” Thomas asked the girl with a grimace, knowing what he had to pretend to do to the girl. She nodded and stepped on to the set, a cold damp cell that had red splatter all over one wall, showing what she was supposed to have gone through. Thomas stepped forward, the director getting ready for filming, unknown to the teen, the rest of her cast mates stepped in to the studio, hiding in the shadows.

Scarlett elbowed a nervous looking Lizzie who motioned to the makeup on the girls face, the blonde shook her head slightly motioning to be quiet with a finger to her lips. Evans eyes widened as he studied the gash on the girls face. They all knew it was makeup, but as they had grown protective of the young girl, it scared them all. The all focused in on the girl when the director called action.

--Filming scene--

Maddison, a 13 year old girl who had been kidnapped by Baron Strucker at the age of 5, sat huddled against the bloody wall, her whole body shaking as she slowly lifted her head, a giant gash across her face, towards the man standing in front of her. The man merely raised his hand that held a ragged, rusty dagger and slashed down at the girl, her face getting slashed.

The girl let out a blood curdling scream, a scream so loud it even made Strucker take a step back out of shock. The man then turned on his heel and slammed the cell door closed whispering to the girl. “No one will ever want someone as disgusting as you.”

--Scene over--

The director called cut and y/n stood up and with a lack of emotion on her face and grabbed her water bottle. She had barely gotten a sip of it when she was collided with, a pair of arms wrapping around her, gripping her tightly. The teen squeaked as she tried to move the blonde hair to see the horrified look of all her adult castmates standing around her. She patted the back of what she assumed to be Scarlett with a look of confusion running across her face.

“What was that?” Mark asked as he nervously twisted his hands. “How did you bring that up? That was so real…”

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked as Scarlett finally pulled back. “I’m confused?”

“It was very convincing sounding darling.” The actress said, one hand not leaving the teens arm. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. I’m fine?” She responded. “I did- have you guys never seen any of my movies?”

RDJ looked at the girl sheepishly. “Your movies are intense kid… theyre a little scary for most of us.” The teen barked out a laugh shaking her head.

“My whole career I’ve only done horror movies, that scream just is what it is at this point. Nothing behind it, just 5 years of perfecting it.” She said with a small shrug and a small smirk on her face.

“Jesus kid, you gave us a heart attack as a whole.” Hemsworth chuckled as he ruffled the girls hair making the teen roll her eyes with a small smile as she was called back to the set.

Taglist: @mythixmagic @boredandneedfanfics @natashamaximoff-69 @asiangmrchk13

[live-laugh-lenney]

Can you please do a fic where the reader and George Clarke absolutely hate each other they always argue but she’s best friends with Chris, and she goes on a night out her girl friends leave her and she’s drunk and scared men are hitting on her hard so decides to ring Chris but he’s asleep and George answers his phone and comes picks you up it ends up them two arguing but also something where they hook up (wether that’s the same night or different) please??

the ending to this feels almost rushed but i know i've promised this a few times... let me know what you think!

"come on."

the words come out of yn's mouth as a low grumble but it was loud enough to catch the attention of the guy stood beside her in the pub's smoking area. the time on her phone said it was quarter to two in the morning, the street on the otherside of the road was empty and baron of people walking passed, and the pub was becoming less and less busy as people got into their taxi's and uber's and went off home to nurse hangovers in the morning.

yet, here she was.

stuck in the middle of the london, all by herself and in a vulnerable state, as she tried to call the one guy she wanted to see in her moment of need. her best friend. who was, no doubt, asleep because he was sensible and chose to stay in that night rather than spending it getting drunk.

"everything okay?"

"yeah," she mumbles it lowly to show her disinterest, her eyes staring at the screen of the phone in her hand as she scrolled through all of her contacts to find christopher dixon's home number because calling him mobile number hadn't worked, "i just can't get hold of a friend, i kind of need him right now."

"can i be of any assistance?"

"no," she responds bluntly and she could feel the way he was taken aback by her abrupt answer, "i just want to go home. my friends have left me here by myself, i have no way of getting home and no one wants to answer their phones to help me."

"it is almost two in the morning."

"yeah, i know that," she scoffs it out sarcastically and she rolls her eyes, landing on the home landline to chris' flat, "no offence but i don't need any company right now. cheers but-"

"not just gon'a leave a pretty girl in a pub by herself," the guy says and, for the first time since she heard his voice, she looked at him - dressed in jeans that were too tight for his legs and a shirt that he definitely chose in hopes to pick up girls with the way he had his muscles on show - as she held her phone to her ear and listened to the dial tone beep through the speaker as the other end rung through the flat, "i'll take you home."

"yeah... no thanks," she shook her head, her face contorted with a look of pure disgust at the repulsive invitation he was insinuating; what had started out as a girl's night was always going to end as a girl's night, not leaving with a bloke she had never met before and waking up in an unknown bed the next morning. "We all know how that invitation ends and i'm not after that, thanks."

"oh, come on-"

"no," she shook her head and took a step to the side, furthering herself away from him to give him a hint of how she was over being nice to him and how she was over the conversation that she never wanted to start. her attention turning towards the phone that was warm against her ear. "answer the phone, idiot."

as she was about to give up and press the red button in the bottom corner, coming to terms with the fact that he was most probably asleep and completely dead to the world, the sound of someone picking up brought some comfort to her racing mind.

"hello?"

"chris, it's yn."

"newsflash, it's george. you know, one of the other guys who lives in this flat and got rudely woken up by this call."

"oh."

she gulps thickly, the lump in her throat aching, and she really wished she hadn't bothered. it wasn't that she hated goerge; it was the exact opposite... he hated her, for some reason, and she had no idea why. she wanted nothing more to be friends with him, making it three out of three successful friendships that she'd made through chris... except he was having none of it.

"i'm so sorry, i just-"

"i told you, babe, you can always come back with me."

yn's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to hold back the upset tears that were threatening to spill from how scared she was, the interruption making her lose her train of thought, and it was only when george spoke down the line that she felt a little intimidated.

"who's that?"

"just some guy-"

"is he bothering you?"

yn sighs and takes a glance out of the corner of her eye, checking to see if the guy was still standing close to her, already knowing that he was listening intently to her conversation and hadn't any plans to go elsewhere.

"yeah, a little," she responds and, on the other end of the line, she could hear him rustling around and moving in a pace that she could tell was quick and in a rush, "i just, my friends left me alone in this pub round the corner from waterloo and i'm all by myself right now and the pub is closing and i'm out the front and he's just here and i don't know who he is and-"

"okay, alright. i'm coming to get you, okay?"

"i don't want to be a bother, george," she heard him grunt back in response to her and she could feel a tear slip down her cheek, "i was trying to get hold of chris but-"

"chris would rip my bollocks off if he knew i didn't help you when you called. especially when you're on your own in london, drunk, with some creep standing with you."

"but-"

"i'm leaving now, okay? send me your location and i'll be there as soon as i can, yeah?"

she couldn't tell if it was the happiness to know she was being looked after or whether it was the scared feeling that had overcome her - or both - but she struggled to keep back the tears that were burning her eyes.

"thank you, george."

it came out as a wet sob and she didn't care if anyone who looked at her and thought she was too drunk and weird. her previous problem of being hit on by someone she'd never met before, the same guy, didn't seem to want to leave her as he slowly sipped on the pint he had poured into a plastic cup.

"just stay safe until i get there, okay? go find a bouncer or someone from the staff and just say your taxi is on its way. stay away from the guy who's bothering you and keep to places where people can see you."

-

"yn?"

her head snapped up from where she was staring at her phone, to see george walking quickly down the street , his hoodie pulled over his head and he'd matched loose cotton shorts with it yet skipped out on pulling socks on as he opted for sliders, because he was in a rush to leave the house and had no time for trainers.

"yn. that's such a pretty name," she heard the guy say but she was no longer interested in anything he had to say, moving from her place on the bench she had chosen to wait upon and grasping the strap of her bag upon her shoulder, "oh, babe, it's a shame you chose him over me. he's got nothing to give you."

george felt his fists curl up under his sleeves yet he chose to not make the situation worse for her.

"when a girl says no to you, she means no," george calls out over to him, staring with a look of dark anger behind his eyes, "back off and maybe try being less of a creep, lurking around drunk girls, and you might just get lucky."

"george-"

"come on," he grabs her hand and tugs her away from the direction of the pub, desperate to get her away from the stare of the guy that was bothering her, "why the hell didn't you call any of us sooner? you were there for how long, by yourself, before you realised?"

"not long," she admits, "i'd only just realised as they were kicking us all out. i went to look for them at the booth we were in and they'd left."

"how many times have we told you to not hang around with those girls? they've been nothing but trouble for you," he reminds her and she rolls her eyes, legs burning from trying to keep up with his long strides back to the tube station, "what kind of friends do that to their other friends? bad friends, yn. they're not your friends-"

"i'm not a child, george," she interrupts him and pulls her hand free from his grip, standing still in the middle of the pavement as he came to a halt from her sudden movement, "don't speak me to like i am one."

he sighs heavily and brings his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips before dropping his arms back down to his sides, watching as she swayed to and fro from the way her world must have been spinning from alcohol.

"alright," he held his hands up in surrender, "i'm sorry."

"you should be," she retorts, "stupid."

"don't backchat me like a teenager and i won't speak to you like a child," he insists and turns on his heels, wanting to hop back into the warmth of the underground station and get back home as soon as possible, "now come on, i want to go home."

"my home. take me home and then go home yourself."

"no, my home," george calls back, hearing her scuffing behind as she tried to keep up with his pace so she wasn't left behind and out of his sight, "i'm gonna look after you, you can have my bed, and you can talk to chris in the morning because he's gonna have some choice words for those girls."

"i don't need you to make me feel worse."

"i'm not trying to make you feel worse."

"you are."

"yn," george sighs, "i'm too tired to argue with you, okay? can we just, we just need to get on the tube, do a couple of stops, then we're home. i'll argue with you tomorrow."

"i don't want to argue with you anymore," she frowns, "i just want to be friends with you. i don't like it when you're angry all the time with me. i've done nothing to you to make you treat me so badly."

"we are friends, idiot."

"no, we aren't. you're always moaning at me, you never say anything nice to me. i'm surprised you even came to get me," yn says, "only you, george. every other one of chris' friend's like me... television is my favourite but you-"

"i do like you, yn," george sighs heavily, "but this is a conversation we don't need to be having in the middle of the road, outside the train station."

"i want to have this conversation-"

"no," george shakes his head, "it's a conversation for when you're sober and not full of whatever alcohol you've ended up spilling down yourself."

he stares at her for a moment and she squints her eyes back at him, in a feigned annoyed look, feeling the chill in the air and the alcohol mixing in her system and as well as her belly. and she couldn't bring it in her to argue even more.

"fine."

-

yn stumbles through the front door and into the darkness of the flat belonging to the boys and she was thankful she wore flats opposed to the heels that were her second choice shoe for the night. a click of the lock filled the quiet as george closed the front door behind him, keys jingling with his keyrings as he dropped them in the bowl in the entryway, shuffling further into the room. as she slid her shoes off, not knowing where she was leaving them, a lamp flicked on and she took in the living space around her.

"you could have taken me home."

"not a chance," george grumbles lowly, shrugging off the over-layer he chose to brave the night air and draped it over the back of the sofa in the middle of the room, "i think chris would have murdered me in my sleep."

"i wanted to go home."

"and i wanted to get a full night's sleep but here we are," george shrugs his shoulders and she folds her arms across her chest, like a child in a tantrum, "you can have my bed, i'll sleep on the sofa."

"george-"

"please don't argue with me, okay? i'm giving you my bed, don't make me change my mind," he warns her and the interruption was enough for her to close her lips and forget about what she was about to say to him, "i don't know what you think is happening between us but i do care about you, okay?"

she could hear her heartbeat pounding behind her chest in the quiet of the room and she looks at him, properly, for the first time that evening.

"you don't show it."

"i don't know how," he scoffs and it's more aimed at himself than at her, his feet take him across the stretch of empty space before he stands before her, "you're chris' best friend... i'm not going to be the one to step in the way and ruin that."

"you could have treated me better. spoke to me nicer. actually made me feel like you wanted me around."

"you're not listening, are you? i like you, you idiot."

for the first time that night, she couldn't find the words to come back to his response. she stared at him, dumbfounded, with wide eyes that couldn't tear away from the way he was walking towards her. and she didn't realise her mouth had gaped open until his hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb pushing her the bottom of her jaw, lingering his touch that had her tilting her head into his palm.

"but-"

"you've always got something to say, haven't you?" and if he didn't have a smile twitching at his lips, hidden beneath the growing facial hair that grew from his upper lip, she would have taken offence to his words, "i wanted this conversation with a sober yn. not slightly drunk, in a mood because her friends abandoned her, in the middle of the night and stood in the middle of my living room."

"you-" she gulps back the lump in her throat and he smiles softly, "i don't believe you."

"are you trying to push my buttons?" he asks her, the gap between them slowly closing, "because it's working."

"and what happens if i push the last one?"

"i think you know already," he says it so softly yet it held so much behind it and yn couldn't stop the tingle in her belly that brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin and the way his breath washed over her face, warm and minted from when he'd done his nightly routine before bed, had her weak at the knees, "go on, push it."

her eyes dart between his, that stayed focused on her face, and the way his lips looked so inviting and soft. teasing and taunting her. her tongue slipping out between her lips and licking her own because they felt dry.

"what if chris finds out?"

"you're a grown woman," george mumbles softly, "i think you can make your own decisions, huh?"

it's the first time she feels a tremble in her hands as she brings her arms up, resting her forearms on his shoulders and letting her fingers comb through the hairs at the back of his head. soft strands so gentle against her cold hands.

and george seizes the opportunity to test the waters of the situation by pressing his lips against hers in a peck, quick and messy, before he pulled away and waited for a response... a verbal response... yet it never came.

because it came in the form of a reciprocated kiss, fingers digging deeper into his hair as she pulled him closer, his arms wrapping around her waist as he brought her into his chest and held her tight in a hold that made her melt. he wanted her to have control, on her own terms, to test herself out in what was happening.

"chris is going to kill me," she says softly, "you guys were off limits."

"he'll get over it."

yn laughs softly and drops her forehead to his chest, his arms still tight around her waist and just couldn't let go of her, and there was a comfortable silence that swallowed the two of them. the previous moments playing on their minds.

"fancy sharing that bed tonight?"

he grins at her question, hearing the hidden desire in her voice, and presses a kiss to her head.

"i'd love that." x

[greenygal]

POV: You are Dimo. You are a Jäger, one of a group who are ferociously loyal to their Heterodyne masters and famously social with each other. You have always had these touchstones to lean on.

Except…suddenly there aren’t any Heterodynes. Everything is in chaos and a mysterious enemy is ravaging Europa. For everyone’s sake, the Jägergenerals make a deal to serve under a new master, Baron Wulfenbach.

Except…the Jägers are still loyal to the House of Heterodyne. So to honor that loyalty, you volunteer to go looking for a Heterodyne. You know, in case one is hidden behind the couch cushions or whatever. And it’s rough! You are officially detached from the Jägers. You can’t come back unless you find a stray Heterodyne, whom you have no reason to think actually exists, so you’re probably going to be out here forever or until you die. Which is a real possibility, because everybody in Europa hates Jägers due to all those centuries serving some of the worst sparks in Europa. (Which, all right, is fair, but still. It’s hurtful.) But you have your fellow volunteers, a little squad of three. You have another Jäger, Jenka, checking in periodically and generally riding herd. And somewhere out there are the rest of the Jägers and the Jägergenerals, doing fine. And over the years you adapt to independence; you learn to plan, and you even find yourself giving orders to the others sometimes.

And then you find an actual Heterodyne, holy shit! She’s eighteen, alone, and green as grass, but she’s got steel in her spine and she’s a crazy strong spark; you have a new mistress! Best day ever!

Except…she gets implanted with the mind of The Enemy. That’s not great. (This happened to her after you found her. You Have Failed Your Heterodyne. ETA: Also you only know about it because you listened sneakily at the door. You’re not sure this is proper Jäger behavior.) But never mind that, she’s got it under control, you all get to Mechanicsburg and she kicks ass and does SCIENCE! and fixes the Castle and reclaims the city and at the end of it she is secure as the new Heterodyne of Mechanicsburg.

Except…

Except then something happens to Mechanicsburg. Is it permanent? Dunno. But the Heterodyne was in there. The Jägergenerals were in there. Anyone in authority in Mechanicsburg was in there. Even Baron Wulfenbach was in there.

A bunch of Jägers were not in there. And they don’t know what to do without someone giving them orders, and…look, you didn’t mean to become a General. Honest. But Jenka’s off monitoring the situation in the rest of Europa, and the only remaining Jägergeneral has somehow gone undercover on the personal staff of the new Baron. They gotta be where they are, and you gotta be where you are, managing dozens of increasingly desperate Jägers and human refugees and trying to figure out what the fuck to do next.

And then the Heterodyne shows up somehow! All is not lost! She’s determined to fix everything! And someone else can be in charge now! Yay!

Except…remember the Enemy? Yeah. She’s still in the Heterodyne’s head. There are things that aren’t safe for her to know. So you have to keep secrets from your Heterodyne, and manage those things yourself without her catching on. It’s hard, but you do it. You do it so well, in fact, that you have a sinking feeling that people are just going to keep asking you to be responsible for things. You’re doomed.

POV: You are Dimo, and you need a drink. And a vacation.

…you’ll probably get the drink?

[15-lizards]

ASOIAF modern AU class/wealth distinctions bc in the wise words of Mod Sam from the Inn at The Crossroads Discord: “i love modern aus where theyre like oh yeah the lannisters are filthy rich and here's the starks, piling into a minivan to go to public school. they would not fucking do that”

Lannisters: Private jets and COO/CEO/CFO positions at the family company and plain white tshirts that cost $5000. 1% of the 1%. They’re the Roys we already know this no need to elaborate.

Starks: they’re a rugged type of Minnesota/North Dakota/Wyoming wealth. Land rich. Own ranches and mining operations and oil drilling companies. Ppl think they’re normal bc they look like average farmers until they get a tour of their 300,000 acres and private mountain. Seem down to earth but grew up breeding ranch horses, don’t really understand what a car note is, and Nedcat paid for all the starklings college apartments. Also wear normal looking vests and ranching jeans and boots that cost absurd amounts

Tyrells: masters at the “quiet wealth” bullshit. Wayyyy older money compared to the Lannisters, and aren’t aggressive/scrappy like them bc of it. Literal aristocracy like lords or barons or some shit. Multiple residences, family tradition of politics, and loads of passive income. Maybe run a newspaper or two and own some global shipping companies bc of their merchant roots or whatever. Margaery was at one of those international debutante balls for the ubër-wealthy.

Tullys: Not as rich as the Tyrells or Lannisters but still nothing to scoff at. Not upper middle class but more like lower rungs of the upper class. Family tradition of sending all the kids to boarding school (that’s where Lysa got pregnant 🙂‍↕️) and they have some nice yachts and the like. Have one really nice permanent house on the river, a summer house upstate, and an apartment in the city. Normal enough to blend in with most people at their school. Also made their money thru shipping lanes.

Martells: Southern oil barons. Nymeria emigrated over and immediately discovered oil on her apparently shitty piece of land. Thousands of acres dedicated to drilling and cattle ranching. Awful for the environment but greenwash the fuck out of their business. Good at being a man of the ppl despite literally being in the one percent. Very publicly donate to progressive charities and causes to offset the backlash they get from pay the people who work for them slave wages. People stan them on Twitter because they’re hot and not like other billionaires.

Baratheons: slightly newer money but old enough to have no excuse to act the way they do. Loud annoying displays of wealth. Made their fortune mostly because they were good at being overly aggressive when it came to the stock market or sales or smthn idk what they do. Robert buys an egregious house in Florida where him and some other rich repulsive republicans do Labor Day weekend on their yachts with women they paid to be there. Absolutely terrible at saving their money (except Stannis and kinda Renly) and quite literally have to have their accounts frozen by their investment bankers. Actively going bankrupt.

Greyjoys: Not even rich anymore. Had a sizable shipping company at one point before they got poached bought out by the Lannisters. Also they engaged in too much tax fraud and embezzlement so now no one wants to touch them with a ten foot pole. Still live in their dilapidated cliffside house that’s literally ab to crumble into the sea. Theon got to live with the Starks bc once the Greyjoys got audited Ned felt bad.

Targaryens: REAL old money that stretches back like at least 500 years. Have had multiple income sources over the years and almost all of it is blood money of some kind and extracted through violence :) Giant ass portraits of their ancestors in their multiple residences, they all speak Valyrian at home, and they don’t even go to school it’s just private tutors. Obscene wealth that isn’t even fathomable to most people. Famously bred race horses and hunting dogs for a while until there was some familial infighting about ownership of the racetracks and stables and that collapsed. Got audited and investigated twenty years ago and Aerys just killed himself instead of going to jail.

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day nine

prompt: crown prince pairing: charles/oscar word count: 1k

“Oh, thank god,” Lando says, when they finally reach the top step of the winding stairs leading up to the highest turret of the castle.

“What,” Oscar wheezes. “Are you,” another wheeze. “Talking about?” He takes a moment to regain his breathing. “You didn’t have to walk up any of those stairs.”

The chipmunk sticks out his tongue at him. “No, but I had to listen to your annoying ass heavy breathing, so.”

“Right, I’m sorry for actually carrying you up all these steps,” Oscar says. “Next time you can walk yourself.”

“Animal abuse,” Lando states, scurrying down Oscar’s arm, digging his little nails into Oscar’s flesh as he makes his way down, makes his way to the giant wooden door at the end of the little hallway they’re standing in. “Also, fuck you, I saved you from that dragon.”

That’s. Actually that’s true. Oscar has to give him that. Sure, he mostly saved him by flirting with the dragon, and there was really only a 50/50 percent chance that was going to work but alas. It did. “Fine,” Oscar says, makes his way over to the door too. “Well, guess this is it.”

“Hm,” Lando says, looking at the door. “What if he’s dead?”

“The dragon?” Oscar asks, studying the lock. Nothing a standard lock picking kit shouldn’t be able to fix.

“What, no? God, I hope not. We have a date next week. No, you dumbass, the prince,” Lando says, sniffing at the door. “Doesn’t smell dead.”

“Well, let’s hope he’s alive, yeah? Or reward kind of depends on it. I don’t think we’re getting that outrageous bag of gold if we show up empty handed,” Oscar says, fiddling with the lock. “Fuck, this is a tricky one.”

“I mean, they never specified alive or dead,” Lando says, pensively.

“Still prefer alive,” Oscar mumbles around the tool in his mouth. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the door swings open. Lando squawks, and crawls back up to Oscar’s shoulder, half hiding behind his neck.

Oscar, still on his knees from where he was fiddling with the lock, looks up to come eye to eye with the Crown Prince of Ferrari in all his glory.

“My savior,” the Prince says. He’s. He’s quite pretty, actually. Also alive, so that’s. That’s good. Oscar wasn’t really looking forward to dragging a dead body back to court.

“Uh,” Oscar says, glancing up at the prince. “Just Oscar is fine, really.”

“Have you come to take me from this wretched tower?” The Crown Prince asks, looking at Oscar with big, beautiful eyes. Jesus fuck, they could have put that in the assignment, maybe. ‘Guy is unfairly pretty’. Oscar would’ve liked to know that. To prepare for. Well, whatever.

“Hey,” Lando chirps from Oscar’s shoulder, peering through the strands of hair curling at Oscar’s nape. “Don’t talk about my boyfriend’s home like that.”

“You haven’t even gone on your first date yet,” Oscar counters, before getting up and smiling a little stiffly at the prince. “We’re here to get you home, your Majesty.”

“Oh, Charles is fine,” Crown Prince Charles says. “So you are the brave knight who’s come to save me? The one who will become my husband?”

Oscar chokes on his own spit. Lando lets out a cackling laugh. “No, Mr. Prince. I’m really only here to take you home. Lord Sainz is expecting your return. And your hand in marriage.”

Charles cocks his head to the side. “But that’s not the rules, no? The rules are a brave knight comes to save me and then marries me and becomes prince of this lands as I become king.”

“Right, yeah, well you know what they say,” Oscar says, as he ushers Charles towards the stairs. “The times, they are a’changing. Also, I’m not a knight, so. There’s that.”

“Not a knight?” Charles is frowning, but lets himself be lead. “Lord?”

“Nope.”

“Count?”

“Also no.”

“Earl? Baron?”

“Nope and nope.”

“He’s quite useless, actually,” Lando chirps happily from Oscar’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Lando. Fuck you too,” Oscar says. Lando makes a loud smacking kiss sound. “But no. Merely a Blacksmith.”

“A blacksmith?” Charles asks, clearly confused.

“The one and only,” Oscar says. “Now, I’m pretty sure the dragon is head over heels in love with Lando here, so as long as he’s with us he won’t hurt us, but just in case we should be careful,” he adds, as they enter the main hall.

“He has a sick ass sword,” Lando says. “It’s very big.”

“Oh?” Charles says, glancing as the dragon as they pass it, who just blinks at them. “Please tell me more about your big ass sword.”

“Sick ass,” Lando corrects, as Oscar considers if it’s too late to just throw both of them into the lava pit.

“It’s big, it stabs things, it does the job,” Oscar grouches, as he pushes them on.

Charles looks him up and down appraisingly. “I’m sure it does.”

Oscar pauses then, right on the rickety wooden slat bridge across the lava pit. “Listen, Mr. Prince. I’m really only here to save you, bring you back to Lord Sainz in one piece, and then collect a big bulking bag of money, yeah? So I don’t know what fantasies you’ve been told about your savior, but I’m not here to fulfill them. Now can we please get a move on.”

Charles smile slips of his face. “Right, I. Right. It was silly of me, anyway. To fantasize these things, you know? The hero coming to rescue you, sweeping you off your feet… I’m sorry. I’ve been uh. I’ve been quite attached from real life for a while, so,” he smiles a little sadly. “You know how it gets. Anyway. Where are we going?”

Oscar feels a pang of sympathy all of a sudden. Charles has been stuck in that tower for so long, and he must have been dreaming about this day, about the day he’s free and well. Then he got Oscar. That must be… A little disappointing, at least.

But it’s okay. Soon, they will be back in the kingdom of Ferrari, and Charles will be able to marry Carlos, and he will get his happy ending, and it will all be fine.

They just have to get through the journey home first.

“Home,” Oscar simply says, and reaches his hand out to Charles, a piece offering.

Charles takes it, a soft smile on his face, and Oscar leads him off the slat bridge, into the great wide unknown.

They don’t stop holding hands until the sun sets and it’s time to turn in for the night. Charles talks the whole way, and Oscar listens, and wills his heart to stay quiet. He’s a blacksmith. There’s paths in life for a guy like him. His biggest price would be the giant bag of gold. Not a prince. Never a prince.

Charles is nice. But Charles has a home. And Oscar… Oscar and Lando and their giant bag of gold will just have to go out and try to find their own.  

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Stung knight go on their first date as throuple which is book store, dinner and then to the club for a night of dancing. The three of them are still getting used to actually being in a relationship with each other. Doing their best to show that they love the other two more than they could ever imagine. Shenanigans insues

Blake: *Almost struggling to carry her Books* You Getting Anything guys?

Yang: Just some Baking recipes, and a new Sci-Fi novel.

Jaune: *looking at something* I- I'm good.

Blake: *Shifting uncomfortably* Whatcha Looking At?

Jaune: Just- It's nothing. Some Graphic novels, which are just glorified comic books. I don't need it.

Yang: *Grabbing some of Blake's books* ... Nah. We're getting them.

Jaune: Well, you're hands are already full and I don't want to-

Blake: Jaune, just get them if you want them. I appreciate you trying to be mindful, but we're here to have fun. We don't mind.

Jaune: ... *picking up the books* Thanks guys!

~~~~~

Blake: *Licking lips* FishFishFishFishFishFish!

Yang: Damn! This place smells like a real smoke house! God, I could live in that hickory and cherry! *Sniff* Oooh Is that Applewood?

Jaune: Yeah, This place is a "gourmet" barbecue and grill place! It's family owned and works with local farmers and butchers to ensure the highest quality meat - and they're the biggest buyers of my family's ciders, wines, and juices.

Yang: What are you, some kind of fruit Baron?

Jaune: We've got a lot of land - most money goes to the people that work it. My mom's a very hands-on boss, especially when it comes to protecting the workers.

Blake: Less talk more filling our mouths with Smoked Salmon~

Jaune: They also have Fish and Chips, fish tacos, tuna melts- just about everything.

Yang: We don't know a lot about your family come to think of it. All we know is that your dad gave you bad dating advice, and that you've got seven sisters.

Blake: And that they used to put him in dresses.

Yang: And that they-

Jaune: Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah, Uh, My mom and dad were both Hunters! My mom used the sword as a backup with a poleaxe - a halberd as a primary weapon ...

~~~~~

Blake: *Bouncing to music*

Jaune: *Dancing like an Idiot*

Yang: *too enamoured by them to dance along with them*