#I cannot be convinced these people are competent AT ALL
Text
Problems (objective and personal) I'm not seeing discussed a lot w this new WatcherTV thing, in no particular order:
-Alienates people internationally who literally CANNOT GET the streaming service!
-Alienates casual fans who don't watch or want to watch all of their shows. Putting down 60 bucks a year to watch just one or two shows is kind of insane, at least for me.
-The volume of content Watcher has produced historically hasn't been enough to justify a separate streamer. I understand there's no way a small team could compete with something like Netflix, obviously, but that's what you're trying to do by putting yourself in the streamer market.
-Will this streamer be secure? What steps are in place to protect your viewers info? ESPECIALLY payment info.
-Will it be easily watchable on multiple devices? I watch YouTube videos on my phone at work 90% of the time, or at home on my TV thru my switch. Is this a browser only deal?
-What are the internet requirements for this? Believe it or not most streaming services won't run on my internet personally. I don't have any for that reason. I can watch YouTube on 360p, or on my 2-bar-reception phone data. Not everywhere has stable reliable internet.
-The suddenness and totality of the move was going to be jarring no matter what, if the idea had been introduced gradually or started as a hybrid model to test audience interest there wouldn't be nearly this amount of pushback.
-I understand the people saying "pay artists!!" Bc I am one, and I get that their quality is expensive and they have a whole company's worth of people to support. I do actually think their work is worth paying for! Everyone's is! But convincing anyone to pay for something they previously got for free is going to be a hard sell. They were still getting paid before, they're now just asking us to pay instead of the advertisers. Idk about you, but that's a way bigger hit to my pocketbook than a multimillion dollar company's bank account.
-I get that YouTube can be a really shitty place to be a creator sometimes, and that being beholden to advertisers is something they don't want to be. It's why they left Buzzfeed! They already have a patreon and merch and it's clearly not been enough for their ambitions. But shooting yourself in the foot because your running shoes are wearing out isn't going to make you a better marathon runner. They had to know that there was going to be a not small portion of their audience unwilling to make this move with them (and again, lots literally aren't able to!)
-If they had a free w/ ads option, or even did a hybrid model with whole shows behind the pay wall, or even just ran a fucking crowd funding campaign to help cover costs of new seasons of shows, any of those things could have worked. They don't even have YouTube memberships turned on, which I've personally seen many many channels do even when they already have a patreon. It really doesn't seem like they've exhausted other options, at least from an outside perspective, which is all we have as viewers!
-I get that this has been in the works for a long time, and that there probably isn't a way for them to back out now. But I hope they can find a way to make this more accessible if they want it to work at all. I truly am not wishing for their downfall, but the whole situation is an awful mess.
Idk, rant over. As a lot of you are I'm feeling very disappointed and upset with this one, and I'm not paying for it either. Hope the boys can salvage this one for their and their crew's sake. Would really hate for this to be the end.
612 notes
·
View notes
Text
Got Me Thinking
Part 2: Late Nights and Spousal Confessions
Synopsis: Not wanting the night to end, Jack quickly asks to spend more time with you. Little did the two of you know that it would end up being a therapy session about your marriages to other people.
Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader
Read Part 1 First
Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere
Jack continued to look at you in disbelief before the biggest smile broke out on his face as he quickly embraced you.
Your arms immediately went around his neck as you felt him pick you up so your feet were hovering above the ground as he hugged you tighter.
“Are you really here right now?” He asked as he whispered in your ear and you simply nodded before responding to him.
“I am and you can thank your little brother for that.”
“And to answer your question, yes. I did miss you, more than you know.”
“Well if I would have known that you two would be this excited to see each other, I would have done it sooner.” Clay mumbled and the two of you couldn't help but laugh. Jack placed you back on your feet before his left hand went to cup your face as his right started to play with the ends of your hair. Something that he used to do when the two of you were younger so it was obvious that old habits die hard.
“And that's who he let get away? Look at how they're looking at each other! Jack hasn't acknowledged anyone else since he's seen her. He doesn't even look at his own wife like that.” Ace said to Clay who simply nodded in agreement.
“That's who he should have been with and stayed with from the beginning.”
“Agreed.”
The party consisted of Jack and Urban making their rounds and mingling with all of their guests, but one thing that didn't happen was you leaving Jack's side. You had been basically glued to him for the entire night and you could tell that your presence was giving him a sense of comfort. Just like before when the two of you were together.
When it got close to about 2 in the morning, people were starting to wind down and leave and since Clay brought you, he quickly asked when you would be ready to leave, but Jack jumped in before you could say anything.
“I'll take her home, don't worry about it. We have a lot to catch up on.” He said while turning to you and smiling.
“I figured, but I thought I would ask anyway.” Clay said while smiling at the sight in front of him. He didn't even know the last time that he saw his older brother so happy and he was hoping that it would stay that way and the two of you would end up together like everyone wanted.
No one had really mentioned or brought up the fact that Jack's wife, better known as Kelsey, hadn't even shown up to her own husband's birthday party but it was clear that Jack did not care one bit. His attention and focus had been on you the entire time and you were low key happy that you didn't have to compete for it with someone else.
The two of you were now settled into Jack’s Jeep and he simply looked over at you and smiled.
“I literally just cannot believe you’re here right now.”
“I actually wasn’t going to come, but Clay convinced me.” You said being completely honest as he began to drive.
“What? Why?”
“I didn’t think that you would have wanted to see me.”
“What the? It’s not like we ended on a bad note. Besides, I literally always ask your mom about you anytime that I see her. That just happens to be a lot since you know our moms have been inseparable since we began dating and haven’t let up since.”
“Very true. Any time I talk to her and ask her what she’s doing she says she’s with Maggie.”
“I don’t want to take you home just yet, if that’s okay.” Jack said, looking straight ahead as he was coming to a red light.
“Hmm, we can go to Waffle House, they’re still open.”
Once the two of you reached Waffle House and got settled into a booth in the back, you knew that Jack was bound to ask you about being married and you were just waiting for it. You both scanned the menu in a comfortable silence before he spoke up.
“So……”
“So…..” You said back to him as both of you let out laughs.
“Tell me everything. What’s been going on with you?”
“Well, I did end up going to nursing school and did that for a little while before I decided to go back and get my CRNA.”
“Damn, I knew my girl was smart. I remember you telling me that you wanted to do that. That’s anesthesia right?” Your heart instantly fluttered when you heard him call you his girl.
“It is, I didn’t think that you would remember.”
“I remember everything about my first love. Including how she didn’t think my full name was Jackman and decided to call me Jackson instead and it stuck.”
You immediately busted out laughing remembering the conversation that the two of you had with you both going back and forth debating on what Jack’s real name was. And you legit asked Maggie to see his birth certificate which she laughed about.
“And to this day, you are the only person allowed to do that.”
“But I love Jackman better. It makes you unique.” You replied as you looked back down at the menu and was deciding on what you wanted to drink.
“What else has happened? You live in Cali now, right?”
“Yeah, I live in Calabasas and have been there for about six years. I like it…. At times.”
Just then the two of you were interrupted by your waiter who you looked up to see was Ms.Isabella. She was the manager and worked here for as long as you two could remember.
“Well isn’t it my favorite nurse and my favorite rapper?!”
“Ms. Isabella, respectfully, don’t you only know like five of my songs? How am I your favorite rapper?” Jack asked joking with her, but all she did was laugh and roll her eyes at him.
“I’ve been to enough concerts to know more than five songs. Anyway, you two aren’t married yet?” She asked and both of you looked like deer caught in headlights, but you quickly recovered.
“Ms. Isabella we’re both married, but not to each other.” You asked and all she did was try to hide the obvious smirk that was about to be displayed on her face. She had definitely been talking to your mother and knew what she was doing.
“Oh, what a shame. Anyway, all I know is that I remember the two of you always being in here when you were younger and being inseparable. Especially when both of you would be drunk and trying to sober up before you went home. A secret that I shall keep from both of your mother’s forever. Anyway, what are we drinking? Orange juice?”
“That’s fine.” Jack quickly said as she nodded her head to walk towards the counter.
When she walked away, it was slightly awkward and you knew for a fact that he was about to ask you now.
“So, how long have you been married?” He asked while looking down and drumming his fingers on the table.
“This year will be three years.” You quietly answered and Jack nodded his head. One of the first things he noticed was your wedding ring when he had first laid eyes on you and seeing it in person made his heart drop. He knew that you were, but was wishing deep down that it wasn’t true.
“What’s his name?”
“Xavier.”
“Does… he treat you well?”
You hesitated on answering that simply because you knew the type of person that Jack was. Even though he wasn’t one to care for confrontation, when it came to you he didn’t care. He would probably have no problem hoping on a plane and going to Cali in order to beat his ass for what he had done to you.
“That’s…. A loaded question. Umm…”
“Y/N, I’m not trying to pry and you only have to tell me what you feel comfortable with me knowing. But the look on your face is telling when I asked about him.”
“It’s just complicated.”
“Marriage can be difficult sometimes, but it shouldn’t be complicated if the two people involved work together.”
“I… I married a wonderful person who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, but about ten months ago his true colors started to show and I don’t think that I can stomach being married to a person like that much longer.”
“Did he put his hands on you? Because….” Jack asked with his voice slightly raising and you immediately shook your head no and placed your hand on top of his in order to get him to calm down.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“I promise. It’s nowhere near that.”
“Then, what is it?”
“He’s been cheating on me for a year and got another woman pregnant.”
Jack’s mouth was now hanging wide open as he looked at you dumbfounded.
“And does he know that you know this?”
You just shook your head no and sighed.
“I… you know that you deserve better than that.”
“I know, I’m just trying to stack my money to be able to get a divorce and get away from him. I already opened up a bank account that he has no idea about.”
“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Jack quietly said as he saw your eyes watering. Bottom line was you still loved Xavier despite what he had done to you and you absolutely hated yourself for it.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, just a little while longer. Now onto you, tell me all that there is to know about Kelsey. I thought I was going to meet her tonight. How’s married life treating you?” Even though you had heard from multiple people about how Jack was miserable in his marriage, you needed to hear it come straight from him.
“Hmm, not a lot to tell.”
“What in the world is that supposed to mean?”
When Jack was once again quiet, you could still read him like an open book despite how many years had passed.
“You regret it.” You quietly said and he just looked at you.
“How can you know exactly what I’m thinking without me having to say anything and you’re in tune with my feelings when my wife can’t even do that?”
“I can read you like a book, Jackman. I’ve always been able to. You can be completely silent like just now and I…. why do you regret it?”
“I’ve recently found out some things about her that I didn’t know before and it makes me think that I truly don’t know her at all and I rushed into this.”
Ms. Isabella interrupted the two of you as she sat both of your drinks down and was waiting for the two of you to order.
“I'll take the all star breakfast.”
“Me too.” You quietly said as you handed her your menu and she simply shot both of you a smile before walking away.
“So, Clay telling me that you were miserable in your marriage wasn't a lie?”
“I… I know he's just trying to look out for me but it's not a lie. I definitely care about her to a certain extent and don't want anything bad to happen to her but….”
“Then do what you have to do in order for you to have a peace of mind.”
“I want to give it time seeing as it hasn't even been a year yet and the fact that the amount of people that would be telling me ‘I told you so’ would be endless.”
“Don't worry about them. As long as you're happy, that's the important part.”
“True.”
“Besides, I’m here for you and will support you with whatever you decide.”
“I appreciate that. Now that I got you back I'm definitely not letting you go again.”
It was around seven in the morning when the two of you finally pulled in front of your parent's house and you weren't afraid to admit that you were sad that the night was coming to an end.
When the two of you had left Waffle House, you both decided to watch the sunrise for old times sake since that was something that the two of you would do often when you two were together.
You were excited that he was now back in your life and was hoping that it would be for the long haul.
“I hope you had an amazing birthday.” You said as the two of you were now standing outside of his Jeep.
“I did because I got the best birthday gift that I could have ever asked for, like Clay said. I appreciate you for coming and I'm happy that I got to see you. It's been way too long.”
“It has.”
“How long are you staying?”
“About another week.”
Jack simply nodded as he grabbed your hand and started rubbing small circles on the back of it.
“Block out some time for me?”
“For you? Always. You never have to ask.” You answered as you smiled up at him which he quickly returned before bringing you into a hug.
“I missed you so much and that is probably all you're going to hear me say over the next week.”
“I don't mind because I missed you too.” You responded as the two of you finally pulled away.
“Go and get some sleep and I’ll call you later.” Jack said as he reached down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek which was dangerously close to your mouth, but you brushed it off and thought nothing of it.
“Okay.”
“Since we now have an audience.”
You looked behind you to see your brother looking out of the window on the second floor as your sister and your parents were looking out of the window that was in the living room and you immediately groaned as Jack laughed. Your mom looked to be on the phone and you knew for a fact that she was talking to Maggie and giving her a play by play.
“I'm probably hitting the studio later. You want to come?”
“Hmm, I think I can clear my schedule for you.”
“Then it's a date.”
#jack harlow#jack harlow fic#jack harlow concepts#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow x black reader#jack harlow fanfic#jack harlow fluff#jack harlow angst#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow imagines#jack harlow fanfiction#jack harlow concept
173 notes
·
View notes
Text
IceMav where they're raising little Bradley, only Mav always calls him his nickname "Baby Goose" without giving context, so people just assume he's weirdly passionate about his pet gosling.
He'll say things like "my baby goose did the cutest thing the other day" or "my little goose is such a bundle of energy, he really wore me out." And people on base, they know enough to get the context. But sometimes him and Ice go out to dinner in the city's gay neighborhoods where they can hide in plain site. And sometimes they'll strike up a conversation with some of the other regulars, and he'll say something like "We should get going, our baby goose is probably missing us."
And the regulars just assume they're one of those couples who treat their pet like their kid, it's a little weird that the pet is a goose instead of a dog or cat, but they've all known that one couple that tries way too hard to be "quirky" and "unconventional" so they don't dwell on it. Still, some of Pete's comments are a little intense, for instance:
Pete: Our little goose got sick, like really sick, and I was a mess! I was convinced he was going to die. Thankfully, Tom kept his cool and reminded me we should let a professional weigh in before signing the death certificate. Anyway, he's fine now, they got him on antibiotics.
Person A: Wow, you were really panicking.
Pete: I was, I really was. I just can't lose him, he's everything to me.
Person B: Well, I mean, you'd still have Tom...
Tom: Oh no, I've always known where I stand in this relationship, trust me, I cannot compete.
Persons A & B: *Wondering what sort of self-confidence issues could've convinced a Grade A Hunk like Tom that the best he could do is play second-fiddle to an aging twink's pet duck.*
885 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Gentleman Chapter Six: Tremble
Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader
Summary: Scarecrow threatens to bring Gotham to its knees while you and those you love find yourself caught in the middle
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence, mentions of chemical weapons, anxiety and hallucinations, mild angst and hurt/comfort, competency kink, alfred being a soft dom, smut: soft spanking tw, body worship, oral (reader receiving)
Word Count: 12.0k
This chapter is finally here and I actually cannot believe the journey it has been from when I started working on this, having months of difficulty writing and then I just write this massive chapter! I’m really happy to be sharing it and I hope it’s well worth the wait. I really appreciate and cherish all your comments and love and patience especially on this series, it means so much 🤎
[series masterlist] [series playlist]
At the mercy of impending catastrophe, an entire city was holding its breath in sick anticipation.
News of Scarecrow and his fear toxin was everywhere one went, anxiety climbing with every hushed discussion and passing day without answers.
His motives were still unclear and everyone was trying to decipher the severity of the message he had left: This is Gotham’s only warning. Fear the Scarecrow.
What was to come next? And would you be ready?
Trust in Gotham’s institutions was few and far between for most, though you did feel a little more hopeful with Mayor Bella Reál’s steady presence in public lately—even still, people were bracing themselves.
For you that meant dance rehearsals were still being held so stage time was abundant, the exotic performances and the allure of the Iceberg Lounge were quickly becoming a good means of escape for many in the city.
You wanted to dazzle the audience, satisfied when you could suspend their belief that this was just a dance and convince them nymphs and sirens were real and alive in front of them instead.
It was easy to throw yourself into the work if you thought about it; counting steps and turns while the band played their hearts out.
There was no other competition, the shimmer and sparkle of the costumes, the lingerie underneath even more dazzling, opal pearls and diamonds adorning your lush bodies caught every single eye.
Five, six, seven…a spotlight shines down upon you, such a pretty beacon of desire, of the passion flowering so strongly in your own heart until there’s nothing but you and the music.
You left nothing on that stage at the end of the night.
Especially not when Alfred was in the crowd watching you with an ever growing adoration.
He made the effort to catch a show when he could, waiting with roses for you afterwards and no compliment or praise spared from your ears if he could help it.
It was amazing how much things could shift, how nervous you had been the first time you knew he would be watching and now you welcomed it, relished in his promise to show up for you simply because he thought your talent and love for your artform was worth it, that you were worth it.
And of course how could you forget his handwritten letter with such neat and elegantly written words, the very letter that sat on your nightstand since your date in the bookstore when he presented it to you and made it all official.
You read over it in the late night hours and in the morning when you woke up wishing he was next to you, until you could recite every word he had written by heart. Weeks ago you would have felt anxious about entering a relationship, not wanting to go through heartbreak if your feelings weren’t the same but now you understood Alfred would never let you stand on unsteady ground.
He hadn’t since the first moment your paths collided, the memory of it still so vivid you could practically hear the echo of your pounding footsteps on the concrete hurrying to reach him, taking a chance on a stranger and embracing him out of fear only to come away from it with your pulse racing for an entirely different reason instead.
Something solid and gentle had formed here and you wanted to be cocooned inside of it forever.
Your friends definitely didn’t hide their excitement that you were “basically dating a member of the Wayne family!” as Roxie had put it.
She was the first to tell you she wouldn’t mind at all if you slipped Bruce her number. Bambi was already ride or die for the relationship, as was Amber and then Kiera’s encouragement of all things romance on top of it all certainly made this a fanclub if you’d ever seen one.
Truthfully though their reassurances kept you from letting the tendency to overthink get in the way, making sure you knew that the way Alfred treated you was everything you deserved.
Grateful felt like too simple a word but it’s perhaps the best word to summarize the way you felt about each of them. Elated in how they celebrated this with you, a sing-song chorus of excitement when you told them about his letter in the chat or how everything went after he spent the night at your place for the first time.
It kept you hopeful, appreciating everything you had just a little extra.
Fresh snow dusted the windowsills of The Magpie where you were counting down the time until you’d have your evening free to spend with Alfred.
You would see him in just a few short minutes anyways, with Bruce in tow for a meeting with the mayor and her team but knowing you’d still have some time before you truly got him to yourself left you feeling a little antsy.
The bar had already been wiped down twice and you just checked on the handful of people sitting around for brunch, most of them talking and finishing off their drinks for the time being.
So you settled on people-watching, polishing the crystal whiskey glasses while you did, arranging them in a stacked pyramid and you were almost done with the menial task when Bruce Wayne sidled up to the bar.
“Oh, hey! Can I get you anything, Mr. Wayne?” you greeted him with a smile, doing your best not to make it obvious you were also looking to see if Alfred was nearby.
“Please just call me Bruce, you don’t have to keep it so formal, really I insist. And just coffee if you can.”
“Sorry, habit. I can get you some coffee, any sugar or cream?” you were laughing to yourself a little, forgetting that you didn’t have to address him so properly every time.
You still did that with Alfred sometimes, a ‘Mr. Pennyworth’ at the tip of your tongue on occasion which always came with a playful scolding.
“No thanks, I’ll take it as is,” Bruce corrected, thanking you again when you set the steaming mug down in front of him. “Oh, before I forget. He may have told you this already but when time allows it Alfred likes to try and get Dory and I together for a proper Sunday dinner and if you’re able to this coming weekend, I wanted to try and surprise him.”
Oh, how thoughtful! Quickly realizing he was inviting you to join them in this tradition of theirs made your heart swell and you hastened to accept.
“That sounds so nice! Of course I can be there. Should I bring anything, dessert maybe?”
“Yes, that would be perfect actually. It’ll be nice to have you there..uh, I know we haven’t had much time to speak but thank you, it’s good to see him happy lately and that’s because of you.”
Bruce’s usual shy, reserved tone was more open, a little softer and you felt relief knowing that you had his approval in a way, maybe not wanting to admit to yourself that it had been a quiet worry all this time.
His and Alfred’s relationship was on better working ground now and you didn’t want to complicate that or make it any more difficult for them to connect in the way they needed and it was very clear from the start that they did need each other and cared for one another fiercely.
This was good, really good.
“I’m glad and that’s okay by the way there’s been a lot going on you’re probably just as busy as he is, if not more, I figured we’d get to talk at some point. I really do just want to make him happy and I hope you know he is because of you too, he’s so proud of you.”
Your last few words saw the very rare edge of a smile before he took a sip from the mug, face turning stoic again.
Speaking of Alfred, he walked in the very next moment, as effortlessly handsome as usual. His suit was a crisp charcoal gray, a black tie tucked perfectly into that pristine waistcoat you knew felt smooth under your hands, the familiar gold accents of his wristwatch and cane pulling it all together.
He always looked incredible but god did he have you weak from halfway across the room today, those kind, blue eyes finding you with ease.
Waving him over to the bar, you started making his usual cup of Earl Grey, sharing a sheepish smile when you greeted each other.
“Good to see you, darling. I hope you’ve had an easy morning.” The depth and lull of his voice and that accent sent warmth spreading across your cheeks, distracted from hearing the affection in his tone.
“I have, thank you,” setting his cup of tea down on the bar counter, you leave the milk out for him to pour how he likes, “Hope the meeting goes well, you’re gonna kill it!”
“That’s very nice of you. I imagine it will, what we’re proposing will benefit the city and they seem receptive to Bruce’s ideas, which is all we can ask for.”
Beaming at him you nodded encouragingly, giving yourself a few more moments to talk with the two men before the mayor arrived and they were whisked off to a more private table.
Kiera came in not long after that, you were really just working the morning to fill in for her until she could get here but your plans to leave with Alfred right after his meeting lined up with the timing anyways.
An hour passed ever so slowly, the meeting finally finishing with what looked like good spirits from everyone and before long you were saying your goodbye’s to Bruce since he had to head out while Alfred lagged behind to take a phone call from his office.
Bundled up in your coat, you waited by the hostess stand content to watch the snow flurries begin to fall outside, such a stark contrast to the warm, crimson interior.
Not sure how long you were lost admiring the view, a warm hand slides across your lower back drawing your attention in a gentle caress you’re sure you’d know anywhere.
“Ready to leave?” Alfred held his hand out for you and kissed your knuckles when you fit your palm against his.
The eager nod of your head and the accompanying excited giggle gave you away but you didn’t care to hide how much you’d been looking forward to this evening with him.
“Ready.”
Outside the air was chilly, coats zipped up a little higher while you discussed what the plans were for the rest of the day.
It was still fairly quiet out on the streets, the business sector in this part of the city always a bit more empty than the bustling traffic of downtown that you were used to, at least before dinner rush anyway.
Nothing out of the ordinary piqued your attention until Alfred was pausing mid-sentence, asking if you heard what he had heard.
“No, what-” but no sooner than you had opened your mouth, the faintest recognition of what sounded like a scream could be heard. You flicked your eyes up to him in concern.
Had it really been a scream? Or was the frigid wind playing tricks on you, whistling through the air?
The same sound rang out again somewhere in the distance, only this time you both were able to hear a distinct shout of “HELP!” following it.
The mood had suddenly turned urgent but it was as if you could only move in slow motion until you realized that at this very moment, the other shoe had indeed dropped.
Chaos was the only way to describe it, more shouts piercing the air but nothing prepared you for the wave of people running out into the street in every direction.
You can’t be sure exactly what’s going on or what everyone was running from but the gears were already spinning in your mind and you don’t hesitate to move when Alfred hurriedly nudged you to follow him, clutching onto his jacket as he guided you to cross the street where his car was parked around the corner.
But you wouldn’t make it more than a few steps off the curb.
The flow of the crowd was too dense, too panicked and you were jostled as you tried to keep your feet steady on slick, snowy pavement.
A gasp was knocked loose from your throat when someone shoved past you, upsetting your balance in the process, the impact forcing you to let go of Alfred’s hand.
Fingers flailed but it was no use, you couldn’t move fast enough and soon more people pushed themselves between you on all sides which meant he couldn’t reach you either. You were quickly losing sight of him, legs feeling like lead as you tried to follow the sound of his voice shouting your name but there’s too much noise to filter out.
No, no! Where is he? I can’t see him anymore.
Your heart sank realizing you’d lost him in the crowd, even as frantically as you were searching for him there were so many people dashing past as you also tried to keep moving that you knew it would be impossible to find him like this.
You were separated and on your own.
Now it felt like your sense of direction was off, not sure if you were still headed in the right direction towards his car anymore, the whole world feeling like it was swallowing you up.
Deep breaths, just take a deep breath. Keep moving.
You had to repeat it to yourself in order to stay calm, trying to reassure yourself that somehow you could make it out of whatever this was but a pang of worry for Alfred made you feel nauseous.
Unwelcome thoughts of something happening to him threatened to take root amidst your struggle to think. Hands moving on their own volition, you reached into your bag to fumble for your phone; maybe you could could get a hold of him by calling, sending a text, could find where he was and try and make your way to him in the event you ended up making it to the car and he wasn’t there.
Seconds later, up ahead of you, a truck swerved to avoid a group of people rushing into the intersection which sent everyone scrambling to move aside, inadvertently knocking you off balance again.
Stinging pain prickled in the meat of your shins, rattling all the way up to your temple when you collided with the cold concrete, eyes going wide knowing it wasn’t safe to be on the ground like this.
But it didn’t matter because had you not been knocked to the ground you weren’t sure you would have noticed it: the shiny silver canister nestled in a pile of snow not six feet away.
Something didn’t feel right about this. It felt like you were being herded to this point.
Under the noise of so many footsteps and all the commotion you heard it click, a slow whistling hiss coming after. The sound grew louder but you were already scrambling backwards trying to put distance between you and the cloudy plume of gas extinguishing from the cylinder.
This had to be the fear toxin, this had to be him.
Fresh screams dotted the blood rushing to your brain through your ears, dread forming a hard lump in your throat as you watched the gas diffuse again and mix with the falling snow.
Loosening your scarf you folded it over your nose and mouth hoping it would buy you some time if you weren’t breathing as much of it in, you couldn’t be sure you hadn’t already.
Your heart was hammering in your ribs when you finally found your footing and could stand, ignoring the strain in your muscles or how your skin felt raw from where your tights had snagged and torn from crawling on the pavement.
Now that you were on your feet again your surroundings were more familiar.
It’s how you spotted the mouth of an alleyway to your right, knowing exactly where it would lead, recognizing the rust red fire escape peeking out from the side of the building. You hadn’t realized you traveled back this far but you’d take it, at least you’d be off the street this way.
The disadvantage of this was that you were working against the flow of bodies but you tried to keep your stance wide and square out your shoulders so you couldn’t be pushed quite as easily, and there was something else…a noticeable difference in how people were acting.
It wasn’t just panic in their eyes, pupils glazed over and blown wide, this was an erratic look of fright. This toxin was confirmed to cause hallucinations which could only mean there had to be dozen’s on this street alone who’d come in contact with it.
You could only imagine what awful things they were seeing, your voice ricocheting against the clamor of sounds trying to warn whoever you could.
Just then, the quickest flash of gold appears in your peripheral and you hear your name again turning in time to see him, Alfred, shouldering his way through the crowd.
You stared in awe, questioning for a split second if you were starting to see things too but he was really there fighting and pushing his way through the packed street to get to you.
The small relief when he reached you, both of his arms locking around you this time before ushering you the rest of the way. Slipping into the alleyway was easy after that.
“Are you hurt? Darling, look at me please! Are you hurt?” His voice is chalked with concern, a clipped edge to his tone that echoed against the brick wall you had slumped against to catch your breath.
He’s already looking you up and down in careful assessment.
“I’m fine! I’m okay..I think, but wait, Alfred! This was intentional, the gas it-” the words come tumbling out but you fall short at the nod he gave you. Of course he had pieced it together. You’re gulping before noticing his cane is missing. “What about you? I was so worried when we-” the words died in your throat for a second time remembering how you got separated in the crowd.
You didn’t trust yourself not to cry.
“Me too, sweet girl but I am alright. I was far more worried about you.” and it’s the tenderness in his voice that makes you sniffle.
Screaming cuts through the brief moment of rest and you both agree you need to get out of here, deciding to stay off the main streets. If you could cut through a few alleyways you’d be able to get to his car.
His hand is once again steady in yours, thumb passing over your skin trying to soothe you while your own fingers return pressure here and there, beyond relieved to be next to him again even with a million more worries arising.
The damage had already been done though, time beginning to move slowly, buildings looming high above feeling suffocating, as if maybe you’d never find your way out, every muffled cry or scream from the streets a terrible chorus.
A loud squeal and the creaking of metal a few feet ahead halted your steps again, Alfred’s arm thrown back to push you behind him.
Four men filed out of a side door, the hoods of their jackets pulled up so they were shrouded in shadows, both of you just barely avoiding being seen.
Alfred had hastened to backtrack and slip behind an empty delivery truck in the alley that provided some cover without close inspection but was still too close for any sort of comfort.
Everything in you went quiet and still, clammy fingers gripping Alfred’s bicep a little tighter, grateful you were wedged between the side of the truck and his body. You don’t want to look their way again but your anxiety rises at the thought of not knowing how far away they were so you risk a peek over his shoulder.
Your blood goes cold almost instantly, breath sucked from your lungs when a fifth man stepped forth.
Dead eyes pierced through a ripped burlap hood covering the man’s head, its crooked stitching reminding you of an old scarecrow only the rest of him was clad in a suit. All you felt was dread.
“Keep your eyes peeled.” a distorted command came from behind the decrepit hood.
There was something terrifying about the way this man moved, it was creepy and sinister, your suspicions confirmed when you spotted more of those silver canisters peeking out from his suit jacket just before he was slinking away, moving out onto the street ahead flanked by those four men, each with a weapon in hand.
Tentative relief came seeing the distance increase between your position and theirs but you weren’t out of the woods yet by any means with one more street to go.
Counting shallow breaths one by one, you waited until the crunch of their footsteps on the snow faded enough to move ahead safely.
Alfred squeezed your fingers to get your attention, motioning for you to follow him from out behind the truck carefully. It was best not to stay idle here too long.
In the midst of trying to process what just occurred you didn’t notice Alfred pull out a small blade until you saw it clenched in his left hand, noting the way he kept it tucked in towards his palm so that outwardly no one could see it was there.
His other hand gripped your arm, keeping you from being able to move from behind his back as you crept forward together, a defensiveness in his movements that made it seem like this was just muscle memory for him.
Here he was, protecting you, keeping you calm this whole time and though it wasn’t surprising anymore you were still a little struck by just how much he cared for you, your wellbeing. It bled through into every part of him and that had your heart clenching.
When you finally made it out of the alley fresh worry spiked like ice inside your chest, attention drawn to every direction trying to make sure nothing would catch either of you off guard now that you were no longer under the cover of the city’s alleyways but at last, after what felt like an eternity, you had arrived.
Unlocking the car and seeing to it that you were safely tucked inside, Alfred was skillfully weaving the sleek vehicle through the streets in no time.
—
Everything felt like it was turned upside down.
Sirens and police cars whizzed past, headed in the direction you’d just left behind and you could only watch as the weather turned dreary.
Alfred checked in every so often, comforting you with reassuring glances, a soft squeeze to your knee which you returned with a weak smile. You were sure he had noticed you shivering as well and felt appreciative of the warm air circulating through the vents.
Remembering your phone after a moment you fished it out of your bag, replying to a string of texts from Kiera who was worried sick and thankfully still safe inside where you last saw her.
Scrolling through the rest of your messages and missed phone calls that kept pinging in your notifications you let each of them know you were safe until it hit you that something was missing, a sudden gasp catching Alfred’s attention.
“Do-do you think Bruce is okay? He left a few minutes before us. Maybe he managed to miss all that.”
“I’m sure he made it through, but he’s not been answering his phone. We’ll be at the Tower soon and we can check.”
It sounds hopeful but the crease of worry between his brows makes you wonder.
Trying to cling to the more hopeful outcome, you attempt to keep bad thoughts at bay with the idea that you’d see that swath of dark hair emerging from the staircase as soon as you step into the foyer. He just had to be there.
The rest of the drive was fairly quiet but the noise in your head made up for it.
You couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d seen—Scarecrow. How close you’d gotten to the fear toxin but so luckily managed to avoid it, a sick feeling in your stomach seeing what it did to the people around you.
Whatever his big plans were for the people of Gotham, you were sure they were horrifying.
Anxiety drips from your shoulders when the car finally comes to a stop, limbs heavy again as you soar up to the penthouse floors from the parking garage elevator and it’s only when the low hum of the lift stops that you let go of Alfred’s hand, the doors opening to a suspended silence.
It only took a few minutes and a quick search to see that it was evident Bruce wasn’t here.
Your stomach was twisted into knots again waiting patiently while Alfred tried his cell phone one more time. Each trilling of the dial tone felt longer than the last and your heart sank once it went to voicemail.
“If he has his location on, I’m sure I’ll be able to find him.” He takes a deep breath, pacing the floor trying to think, to come up with answers.
Wringing your hands wasn’t doing much to ease the tension in your body so you forced yourself to lean against the solid wood table of the main room.
Touching something solid seemed to help and you wanted to be helpful to Alfred right now, at the very least supportive in the effort to find Bruce, hoping anxiety wouldn’t take over everything.
Mentally you were running through a list of possible places near the incident that he could be, fingers flying to your phone to search news updates, find out if Bruce’s name had been mentioned anywhere.
“Christ, I’ve found him! His phone is at the GCPD building. He can’t have been there for very long yet.”
“Okay, that’s good. He’s probably okay then if he’s there of all places, right?” your question is tinged with a cautious optimism as is Alfred’s responding agreement but you still feel unsure.
“I’m going to head there regardless, surely he’s fine but I don’t want to take any chances. I wish he would answer his bloody phone, though.”
He sounded like such a dad in that moment you might have laughed if the circumstances were different.
“Maybe he’s there with the mayor too, they walked out together before us, it was probably the first place he would think to go especially if they saw something related to what we saw.” you offer a little reassurance and reach out to squeeze his shoulder.
“Smart girl. I’m sure you are right.” Alfred sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Fngers pinching the bridge of his nose before he slips his glasses from his breast pocket and puts them on, focused in on what needed to be done once again, typing out a few messages to Bruce in the meantime.
“I can come with you, just in case he’s in trouble or, or.” you don’t want to go any further with possibilities and you aren’t sure how to articulate your uneasiness at him going back out there on his own even if he could handle himself.
It upset you to think you wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t know if something else were to happen.
“Oh my love, I appreciate that. You’ve been so brave through all this and I do want you with me but more importantly I need you safe and staying here will ensure that. I don’t want you in harm's way.” he’s setting down his phone to cup your cheeks, moving in close so his nose brushes yours gently.
You want to protest but understand that he’s right, the lump in your throat returning as you look at him.
He was being strong, for you, keeping it together just to make sure you weren’t any more frightened than you needed to be but you could see the stress in his features and knew you needed to be strong for him too.
“I don’t like it but I understand,” you relented with a whisper, leaning into him a little more, unconsciously trying to hold on. “I’ll stay here but just please be careful okay?”
Alfred moved back a bit so you’d look him in the eyes, a determination in them that takes away some unsettled nerves.
“I promise I will be. I’ll keep in touch as well, as soon as I find out anything you’ll get a call.” His soft murmur came in between the gentle press of his lips against your forehead.
His kisses were effective in calming you even if it didn’t help the reluctance to part from him, you know he has to go and don’t want to delay him any longer.
A new wave of emotion crests at the way he fusses over you before departing; making sure you were okay to be here alone for a bit, reminding you to eat something soon and that there was a change of clothes still in his room if you wanted to shower and take off your torn tights and snow dampened sweater.
The anxious shake of your hands was better even as you kissed him goodbye, returning his thoughtfulness by making sure he had a pair of gloves and another cane from his collection in hand before hurrying off, your feet lingering for a moment longer after the elevator doors close behind him.
Now…the waiting began.
—
Barely twenty minutes have gone by but you’re restless and there’s a sharp tension in your shoulders all the way down to your hamstrings that won’t ease up even when you try to relax.
Wayne Tower was quiet and far too empty, the methodic tick of the old grandfather clock in the foyer and your footsteps all the sound she’d bestow.
Sitting still has proved to be impossible so you wander the halls, count the steps each staircase you go up, try to roll out the stiffness in your neck little by little.
It’s only afternoon but the skies are gray and dark, some heavy kind of shadow cast over every corner that could be touched and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it but have patience.
News updates are slow meaning no one knows anything concrete yet, just that nearby hospitals were starting to get an influx of people affected by the fear toxin and police were all over the scene of the incident and surrounding areas. You’re just glad it seemed to be isolated to the few blocks you had navigated around earlier, nothing else occurring elsewhere in the city.
That certainly didn’t mean these incidents weren’t going to spread, you were fully prepared to hear of more fear toxin attacks in the near future with so much mystery still surrounding Scarecrow.
This whole thing felt deeper than what you could see at the surface but all you could come up with were questions and more questions.
But there’s no use in giving yourself a headache, not now at least, your phone ringing abruptly and Alfred’s name illuminating the screen. You’re answering before the second ring, taking a deep breath the moment he tells you everything is alright.
Bruce was indeed at GCPD headquarters when Alfred got there and the pair were in the process of giving statements about what they saw related to the attack so it was looking like they were going to be there for a while yet.
You don’t get to speak to Alfred for long before you hear him being summoned and you’re wrapping things up, wishing him well before he leaves you with a promise that he’ll update you as things go.
Your body felt much lighter now that you knew they were safe, the tightness in your chest dissipating as you finally allowed yourself to unwind a little.
Stomach still too tense to try and eat anything yet, you opt to take a shower instead, the change of clothes and the hot steam of the water would do you good.
Finding the familiar path to Alfred’s bedroom was easy, his space inviting, kept as tidy as ever but you still see all of him in it.
The faded bookmark sticking out of the novel on his bedside table, his nighttime reading glasses that lay folded on a stack of books to the left, and the tie and cufflinks atop his dresser still there from when he was getting ready this morning you imagined.
You’re comforted knowing you’re surrounded by his things and you’re further softened seeing your clothing items amongst his from when you stayed the night for the first time, everything neatly folded in the way you’ve learned he liked to fold.
Thoughts of him lingered as you retreated into the warmth of the shower, adrenaline slowly leached from your body, swirling down the drain with the soapy water.
You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from the last hour and a half until your eyes started to feel heavy but you don’t want to get out just yet.
It feels safe here and you’re already too far gone indulging in daydreams of your boyfriend, the thrill of being able to call him that now—the same one who practically bouldered his way through a crowd of people to reach you.
In the moment there hadn’t been time to really think about it but now that you were alone with your thoughts, it’s all you could replay.
Or maybe it’s all you wanted to think about but either way you wanted to drown in whatever strength and steadfast skill Alfred possessed, heart fluttering thinking of how every movement was intentional, the way his entire body pivoted to shield you, keep you safe as you moved through the streets, the switchblade he so effortlessly and quietly had ready and the expert flourish of his wrist when he pocketed it in the car.
Yes you knew he had been a soldier, had seen combat and was skilled in more areas than you could count, you could only imagine all the technical and psychological training he had from his days as an intelligence agent and though you took those parts of him seriously, you also couldn’t help but find it all deeply attractive.
Where words could not be applied, he showed you.
Refreshed and in more comfortable clothes, your mind felt a little clearer even if having to wait was still difficult but you try and be patient for another update, checking in with your friends in the meantime.
Alfred’s bedroom was warm from the steam still escaping from the connecting bathroom and you felt far too cozy here to venture back downstairs so you climb into the large bed and curl up on his side, comforted by the fact that his pillows smell like him.
No longer restless from the quiet aura in the air, fatigue rolled in, the energy to worry had faded quickly. Instead you began to drift off, the allure of resting pulling you under so easily.
Your phone is still clutched in your hand as you oscillate between worlds, thinking of Alfred and that “oh my love” that had left his lips so tenderly, understanding now why your breath caught in your chest after, why you’d been persuaded to listen.
He refused to let you dismiss your own wellbeing when thinking of others, your importance to him was too great to let you follow him into the unknown even if he’d feel much better having you by his side.
Nothing was going to happen to you if he had anything to do about it.
You hadn’t ever been shown this much adoration before and so fiercely and consistently at that and you slip into a light slumber thinking that this must be what falling in love felt like. To know perhaps, somewhere etched deep within you that it was exactly that. Love.
An unending flame, a sewn red string, so viscerally real it had you swearing to nurture it always. Even in sleep you know you’d never dream of stopping.
—
Winter sun had just begun to set when you were woken up by the sharp buzzing of your phone. A text message.
On the way back now, Bruce is with me. Hope you’re doing alright, I’ll see you soon, lovely
x Alfred
Smiling at the good news you rub the grogginess from your eyes and reply back before tucking your face back into the pillow for a few more minutes.
Your nap had lasted an hour or so and afternoon was quickly spilling into evening as you blink the last remnants of sleep away and check the time. Anticipation and the rumbling in your tummy finally get you up.
Taking a few moments to fix where your curls had flattened to your head from laying on your side, you fluffed out the small coils until it looked the way you wanted, padding down the old staircases and into the kitchen soon after.
You wanted to try and make something quick to eat for when they got back, you were sure if you were hungry they must be too especially after everything that had happened, all the extra energy spent.
A quick browse through the fridge and pantry had you grabbing ingredients for sandwiches, absentmindedly putting everything together and you’d just stacked the last one on the plate when you heard the elevator chime and you didn't bother to put anything away, rushing out to the foyer right away.
You don’t care that you’re running, feet carrying you forward with their own motivation, you’ve waited long enough and it’s a complete and total relief when Alfred and Bruce step inside.
Alfred saw you first, a grunt that turns into a chuckle resounding through his chest when you all but crash into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug that he returns immediately, his own arms sliding across your torso to pull you in close.
Not a second more apart, that is all you wished out of the rest of this day.
“I’m so happy you guys are back. What’s going on out there?” you compose yourself after a moment.
“Half the city is shut down right now, people are scared and staying inside judging by how empty the streets are.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair while he explains.
You almost don’t notice that his fingers are smudged in some sort of dark ink or paint, the color reminding you of motor oil, thoughts racing as to what could have happened, what he might have seen.
“Are you guys doing okay?” you’re asking quietly as you all walk into the main room, hoping you hadn’t pressed too much too soon, just worried by what their faces won’t yield.
Alfred shrugs off his coat and rubs your shoulders to comfort you.
“We’re both alright, darling, don’t worry.” He's reassuring you, steady and measured voice calming you enough to where you begin to let yourself focus on how delighted you are to see them.
Bruce is the first to head to the kitchen when you mention you made sandwiches if anyone was hungry, his thanks echoing down the hall.
You take a moment then to greet Alfred properly, kissing him soundly, spine tingling when he returned the kiss with a sweet pressure that gave away how much he missed you.
“I’m so sorry it’s been hours, their investigation is a big operation and nearly everyone needed to speak to us. Are you doing alright? I’ve been thinking of you all afternoon." He's looking over your frame again, almost like he can’t help but check for himself one more time
“I’m okay, I promise! Actually doing a lot better now that you’re here. It was hard not to be a nervous wreck for a second there but I took a shower and ended up sleeping for an hour and that really helped.” you’re sighing contently against his shoulder.
“That’s my girl. I am so proud of you for how you’ve handled all this today, I really am. That’s great!”
His words were so full of praise and affection it flusters your thoughts and you’re glad he can’t fully see your face lest he notice how much you’re affected, how much that just made you want him, but you reasoned it wasn’t the right time for romantic feelings and desires to take hold yet.
Not when there were still so many questions and things to be talked about, so you stow away those thoughts for the moment, already sure the tension would be palpable when you were able to be alone.
Maybe it would only be a little longer left till then.
Eventually the two of you joined Bruce in the kitchen, everyone feeling a little more settled after eating, able to process and debrief about what madness you’d found yourselves in today.
Surreal didn’t even begin to describe how it felt but it’s all you could manage to say, not quite sure how you were able to make it out of the chaos in the streets unscathed save for a few bruises, it all felt like a bad dream come to life and everyone feared that the worst was still yet to come, that sick feeling in your gut returning with the thought that they were probably right.
Dusky colors peeked over the horizon as the three of you tuned into the five o’clock evening news hour, wary faces glued to the TV as the first solid pictures of Scarecrow flashed across the screen. Your knees bounced nervously where you were sitting on an old loveseat, the reminder of his hooded face making you shiver.
An eerie cell phone video showed him moving down a street with his henchmen, people screaming and writhing on the ground from the toxin.
It seemed like he enjoyed what he had caused, a maniacal glint to his eyes, in the way he moved his face under that hood you swore had to be fused to his skin by the way it looked on him. You had to look away after the third loop of the video, an attempt to keep any nightmares about him later at bay.
Some information was given about the initial incident that sent everyone running; the toxin had been released inside the vents at the City Hall building near The Magpie, gas canisters later found in the ducts like the ones you’d seen in the commotion, lying in the snow so coincidentally.
Having confirmation that it had been planned like you thought only produced more confusion with the sudden wish to have been very wrong about what was going on.
Premeditation like this could only mean this man was cunning and careful, that he’d only been caught on video and surveillance footage because he intended to be seen and that terrified you to realize.
When you dared to peek at the TV again you immediately had to do a double take, up close photos of the men flanking Scarecrow in the video popping up, showing you what the men you saw in the alley really looked like out of the shadows.
You wanted to throw up. You knew for sure that you recognized one of them.
The same man who had been following you when you ran into Alfred that morning you met completely by chance.
It couldn’t be, you didn’t want it to be, as if you could kid yourself into believing you’d forgotten his face no matter how hard you had tried since that day, but it was him and a shudder rolled down your spine at how much of an awful turn this was.
Your small gasp of surprise caught Bruce’s attention and you noticed his careful gaze shift from the screen to your face in a question, figuring out what you’re stuck on trying to explain before you can get any words out.
“You know one of them?” there’s something in Bruce’s tone you can’t discern right away.
“I..yes I recognize him,” your sigh was heavy, followed by the point of your finger when the man’s picture was shown one more time. “Don’t know his name or anything but I do know he works for Oz, I’ve seen him around the Iceberg Lounge pretty recently.”
You took a deep breath before turning your attention to Alfred who was also listening curiously.
“I should also mention that I found out he was the man who was stalking me the morning we met. Oz sometimes uses his men to intimidate the dancers who get out of line with him and I may or may not have injured his pride the night before. I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner I just didn’t want to upset you with it.”
You cringe inwardly, anxiety rushing in all over again now that you’d said it out loud.
That incident had been something you tried not to give too much thought to, you’d been careful, always were and hadn’t had any more issues with being followed, even got back in Cobblepot’s good graces lately as well but seeing that photo brought it all back.
“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, darling. That’s quite alright and more than understandable, I think you know either way I’d always be upset knowing he sent that man to stalk you but I would never be angry with you about that.” Alfred spoke gently.
You’re relieved he isn’t mad at you even if the guilt that lingered made you worry.
Maybe you’d make a point to bring it up again when you were alone and able to discuss it in the full context of your relationship, you were sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a little extra reassurance about it.
“Thank you. I don’t know what to make of this but I am a bit shocked Oz would be connected. He’s looking for opportunities to climb up in the crime world, all of us know that and he can be sleazy and he has a reputation for a reason but for him to be part of something like this if he really is involved is extreme.” you chew the inside of your cheek, pondering if your boss had made a deal with the devil in his search for power in Gotham.
Men like him were all smoke and mirrors with a penchant for easily bruised egos but these revelations had you questioning things. It wasn’t a good thing to know too much in this situation and right now, you were making one too many connections for your liking.
You would just have to be more vigilant now, especially around him.
The investigation into today’s fear toxin attack was still ongoing and every news outlet was clamoring for updates and solid information that was nonexistent right now, Bruce finally turning off the TV after a while.
There would be a press conference tomorrow, maybe the city would know more by then but for now it was no use to any of you to rewatch the events you’d already experienced firsthand today.
Bruce announced he was going to shower and call it a night and wished you well if he didn’t see you again, adding that you were welcome to stay any time if you didn’t feel safe going home and he was glad you weren’t hurt after everything.
It brought about a smile to your face again to know he didn’t think any differently of you and made sure you felt welcome.
You were remembering his offer to surprise Alfred with a proper dinner this weekend and though what happened today seemed to put a huge damper on things, you hoped that could still happen.
Closeness and company was what you all needed right now.
After helping Alfred tidy up the kitchen a bit he offers to drive you home and your face must have indicated your disappointment because he was quick to explain he had every intention of spending the rest of the night with you, just thought you’d want to be in your own space after such a taxing day.
He was right, as comfortable as you felt here at Wayne Tower you did miss your apartment and your bed and the familiarity of being in your space but you were also relieved to know that he was still looking forward to making the most out of things this evening.
Of course he’d never leave you wanting or wishing.
Trying to hide your eagerness was a challenge, a new kind of adrenaline in your system as you watched Alfred gather some things to take with him because he said he’d be staying the night too which meant you’d get to have him to yourself after all, putting excitement back in your veins after you’d been quietly hoping to be able to wake up next to him in the morning.
When you finally left the Tower, the streets were just as barren and quiet as Bruce had said, it was eerie not seeing any of the usual traffic.
The only semblance of relief came from seeing that familiar bat signal lit up in the sky, a few hopeful beams cutting through the gloom in the air.
Nothing was going to be the same moving forward and most of the city had been bracing for this since the first threat. It was only a matter of time but tonight, you wanted to forget for a little while and just take all the comfort and quality time with Alfred that you could.
He was as protective as ever walking up to your building and doesn’t fully drop his guard until you’re both inside and the door is locked.
Home at last!
Falling back onto more recent patterns, the space by the door is filled in with Alfred’s shoes, his coat hanging up next to yours, his presence in your apartment making it feel the most complete it’s ever been.
He insisted that you let him make an evening cup of tea for both of you while you sank into the couch cushions, browsing through movies to watch together before you agree on something comedic and lighthearted.
Eventually he joined you and somewhere in between laying your head against his shoulder and the middle of the movie, you finished your mug of chamomile tea and Alfred had pulled you into his lap.
And somewhere between then and the end of the movie you fit yourselves together so you could be cuddled against his side, your leg draped over his to make space.
He’s so solid and warm that you’re helpless to sink into his hold, unable to explain why his arms made you feel so sweetly held, so comforted that the feeling radiated through just the mere mention of his name.
Maybe it’s why the tears eventually came, when you knew you were completely safe and able to feel all your emotions fully after hours of having to push through.
It didn’t take Alfred long to notice your quiet sniffles though, catching the moment some of those tears spill over in silence.
“Ohh sweetheart, it’s alright you’re okay. I’m right here, can you tell me what’s on your mind?” His words are soft and patient and spoken so gently you feel more tears come.
“Today was just a lot…like I keep thinking of when we got separated in the street. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was at that moment. It’s probably all hitting me now I think,” the waver in your voice could have broken his heart.
“It was a lot and you’ve done such a good job getting through it, you know that was a brilliant idea to use your scarf as a mask? You have no idea how proud I am of you! But you are right, that was terrifying, I was so worried you were hurt or trampled or worse, can’t imagine how caught off guard and disoriented you must have felt and I am so sorry for that, darling.”
Alfred kissed your temple, fingers careful when he began to wipe away the salty streaks left behind on your cheeks and nose.
You wiggle yourself a little closer and nod against his shoulder, “You found me though, you made sure I wouldn’t be hurt even if you did almost give me a heart attack thinking I’d never be able to find you again.”
This time there’s a genuine, shy laugh at the end of your words.
“I’d always find you, you know that right?” his tone shifted to a slight seriousness, still comforting but there’s a weight to his words that steals your breath. “There isn’t a time, a place or a world in which I wouldn’t come find you, wouldn’t do everything in my power to keep you safe, you mean far too much to me.”
You cried a bit more when all of that sentiment sank in because you trusted Alfred so much you knew he spoke truthfully, it wasn’t just to ease your emotions he meant every word and in turn, you’d felt every word.
“I know, I don’t doubt that one bit. I know we talked about this earlier but I do want you to know I didn’t intend to keep that information about Oz sending someone to stalk me a secret from you. I promise I’m going to be a lot more careful around him now too.”
He wiped away the dampness from your lashes before simply shaking his head at you and leaned in to kiss your forehead.
“That would definitely be wise going forward especially since we don’t know how deep his involvement goes but I also don’t want you worrying about how I feel, sweet girl. That was always yours to tell if and when you felt ready and it meant something greater that you trusted me with that knowledge, that I can be a place of confidence for you.”
When would he ever stop rendering you speechless?!
You began to think the answer was never and that was just fine honestly, your heart so taken with his patience and diligence to validate your feelings whenever it was needed, no shame or dismissal involved.
“Sometimes I think I just need a little extra reminding but you’re right I do know I can trust you with anything that’s going on, with anything I’m feeling.”
“Good, that makes me happy. I may have been thinking about putting you over my knee for thinking such silly thoughts that I would be upset, but there’s not a single thing you have to apologize for.”
Oh.
You forgot how to breathe after hearing that, something lighting up inside you imagining yourself over his knee, accompanying thoughts of being toyed with, spanked, squirming and helpless under the grip of those strong hands of his followed swiftly.
He’d figured it out now, reading the change of your expression for what it was, latent desires rising to the surface.
You untangled yourself from his embrace to sit up for a moment, further distracted when he clasped his hands behind his head, shirt pulling taut over his biceps.
“Thanks for reassuring me, if I ask again feel free to do that though, think I might actually get it through my head then,” you teased shyly, “I guess I am being silly, you did after all muscle your way through a wall of people to get to me, which by the way was very impressive.”
He laughed at your compliment, the sound low and gravelly to your ears, pulling you in.
“Mm used to be a boxer, love. I’m flattered you think so.”
Oh wow. Again your interest in his skills had been piqued and he must have seen the flicker of an urge to ask further in your eyes because he continued after a second.
“Well, field medics like to have fun too and it was the army so we were all trained in hand-to-hand combat; boxing kept us in shape and gave the lads something to do, to focus on. I still try to keep up with the training, Bruce and I spar a lot of the time, we have since he was old enough to throw a punch.” Alfred tilted his head at you a little, reminiscence on his features for but a moment.
A stray image of potentially watching him spar one day landed right in your lap and it was incredibly hard not to involuntarily scoot your leg further up from where it was draped over his thigh.
He was so damn attractive it wasn’t fair. It made sense, the boxing, connecting why his shoulders were so defined, the tone in the muscles of his back, the power you knew he had behind those thick hands and even thicker thighs.
So sturdy and agile, age and old injuries just a reminder that every move was calculated for a reason.
“That’s so cool. I bet it’s a good way to let off some steam too,” you rest your chin on the plush pillows of the sofa. Something had begun to shift, a slowly simmering tension working its way between your bodies.
“Oh I can think of other things that would do that better.”
The look on his face sends a wave of heat through you, straight to your core.
“Like putting me over your knee?”
It slipped from your lips on a whim but he was ready for it and you realized he’d been enticing you this whole time.
“If that’s what you’d like then of course. Have you ever been spanked before, darling?”
You took a shallow breath, “Maybe once or twice it’s happened in the moment but no, not really, not properly like that. I-I think I’d actually enjoy it, um have you ever spanked anyone before?”
“I have.”
He unclasped his hands to sit up next to you, eyes never leaving your face, keeping the intensity up, lighting every little flame inside you by the second. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were going to let every spark catch.
“Also impressive and yes, Alfred. I want your hands on me,” you sighed a soft plea.
“C’mere then, I’ve got you.” He tugs you gently into a kiss and your fingers slide down over his wrists when they moved in to cup your face, touching you the way you wanted, so sure and thorough until he grasps for your hips, hungrier than you’d anticipated.
He doesn’t waste time, your surprised little squeal making him smile when he moves to stand up and lifts you slightly by your hips, tipping you so you’d fall into him before he was transferring your weight so you were hauled over his shoulders, centered with such ease so that you felt balanced and stable now that you were off the ground.
Your pulse thuds in your chest as you cling to him, those nervous giggles muffled against his back while he carries you to bed.
—
The short walk down the hall made you feel jittery in the best way, a nervous excitement bubbling inside you knowing he was experienced with this, that he was going to show you and make it feel so good. You were sure he would.
It’s almost crazy to be back in your room after all that’s happened today, how tense all the minutes bleeding into hours had been.
But it could all be pushed to the background for a while, your attention locked into the moment as Alfred sat down on your bed, bringing you with him, your body positioned across his lap so prettily, angled so your legs were spread just slightly with the length of his left thigh keeping you supported.
You stretched out your upper half on the duvet, propped up on your elbows to look back at him, watching as he pushed your leggings down, throwing them somewhere behind him on the bed before warm hands were caressing up your shins, over your thighs and up to the swell of your ass.
His palm kneaded your flesh, strong fingers applying a teasing amount of pressure while you squirmed and arched back into his touch.
“I’ll start slow, is that alright? Nothing too hard, just a few spanks to see what you can tolerate. If you don’t like it or aren’t sure, we don’t have to continue.” His hand moves in soothing circles across your skin and he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder.
“Yes, I’m okay with that.” you try and breathe.
“Good, I want you to say the word red if you need to stop, yellow if you need to slow down and green to continue if I stop to check in. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
There’s a little authority in his voice and it made you squirm again, aroused by his establishment of cues and a safeword right away, how in charge he felt right now, you wanted this so badly it caught you by surprise. You hadn’t expected to be so needy for this.
Remembering that he was waiting for a reply you squeak out a yes and have to bite your lip to keep from gasping when he pulls his hand back and swats the center of your ass, more sound behind the movement than there was force but it still made you jolt forward.
You groaned at the dull sting that prickled your skin after and glanced at Alfred who was already studying your reaction.
“Well done, how did that feel?” he cooed praise at you and this time you don’t try to stop the sound you make in response.
“Felt good, like what I was expecting but also different but I liked it, I want more.” your legs flexed when his hands smooth over your skin one more time, his pleased smirk at your declaration making heat pool in your lower back.
You wished he would slip off your underwear too, so then he’d be able to see just how soaked you were from all this but you knew you had to be patient and the reward would be everything.
You do take a second, however, to wiggle out of your sweater, starting to feel warm under the fleece lined fabric, and when you glanced back Alfred was admiring just as you thought he might be.
No bra, nothing underneath but soft, brown skin for him to feel and just to entice him a little more, you arch your hips, making your ass jiggle, just enough to pull his steely gaze down your backside.
The next spank is firmer than the first, more heaviness to his hand that made you whimper, your mind feeling a little hazy in the best way, the kind of haze that felt like a release, a soft bed to lay down on and surrender some control because you knew you’d be taken care of.
Thwap!
Whimpers and moaned out gasps mark the smack of his palm on each of your asscheeks, only a slight increase in the amount of force so that the sting just bordered on stealing your breath.
“Christ, you’re so gorgeous like this, baby.”
His accent was deeper, that gruff voice sending tingles rippling across your spine, going down smooth like whiskey and followed by his left hand sliding over your back to rest on your right hip, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.
He made each spank hurt in the most delightful way, alternating between right and left and then across both cheeks, spreading out the sensation, giving you a feel for which areas were more sensitive, which areas you liked being spanked at.
“Oh, fuck!” breathy curses left your lips when he kept at it, precise hands giving you just the right amount of impact.
“Good girl, you are doing so well. I think it’s time we take these off, hm?” he coaxes your hips up slightly so he can hook his fingers under the waistband of your panties and you’re all but begging him to.
Nevermind if he felt like tearing them in two, you would have let him, but he’s polite in how he strips you despite the way you feel him stirring, hardening beneath where you lay. God, you wanted him so badly.
“Please touch me, oh please,” you don’t even realize the words are coming from you.
In barely audible little pleas muffled by where your face is flush with the bed but Alfred doesn’t miss anything and he’s grinning in your peripheral.
“You should see how soaked you are, love. Need my fingers there, is that right?” his fingers were already inching towards where you ached the most, his right hand circling, distracting you from being able to speak while preparing you for another spank.
“Yes! Please, Alfred, I want it so much!” your whimper leaves both of you aching.
A tremble in your thighs had spread down to your pointed toes with the way he swirled the pads of his index and middle fingers over the slick mess between your thighs.
Slow and sweet as he slid them over your folds and circled over your clit, waiting and then rewarded with the eventual roll and arch of your hips, his free hand drawing back and then coming down on heated skin.
You gave a strangled cry, the sound turning into a moan when his fingers continued to circle your clit, responding to the way your body reacted, only taking his eyes off you for a moment when he finally put aside his self control to watch your pretty pussy swallow his thick fingers.
He worked you open gently, remembering how you liked him to move, where those sensitive spots were even at this new angle.
Giving you something to clench around with his next spank, coaxing you to rock into his touch like he could see you wanted to do, the gorgeous sway of your hips trying to meet the plunge of his fingers, undeniably needy for him.
You knew he could hear it in the way you cried out his name, how sensitive your entire body was now, the broken, pleading edge to the way you praise him in return, telling him how good it felt, how much you’d been needing this.
The pleasure built higher as did Alfred’s movements, a hiss at the edge of your words at each searing swat of his hands that mixed with the scissoring of his fingers, both working in careful, measured tandem.
“That’s my girl, come on, that’s it!” he grits out when you push up onto your elbows again and grind your hips back.
The passion and possession in the way he called you his merged with the curving of his fingers and you both know you’re there, tender walls fluttering as you come, thighs aching, your whole body tingling, trembling with the steady roll of his wrist keeping the pleasure drawn out, filling your entire body.
You’re not embarrassed by the tears that prick your eyes or the sob in your throat that follow when he finally flips you over, laying you back because you’d begged for him to and who was he to refuse you, an angel.
If you wanted his face between your thighs, eating your dripping pussy until you were too sensitive to take it, that’s exactly what he’d give you and it’s why you weren’t shy, not in this moment, not when you knew he wanted it just as much as you.
Soft hands disturb the careful style of Alfred’s hair, unable to help it when his tongue licks you and the salt and pepper scruff scratches achingly over your inner thighs, daring you to try and close them.
Not like you’d want to, able to see how his shoulders curved and bulged with the stretch of his shirt as he kept your legs parted with his body.
This was everything you had wanted, moaning at the way he consumed you so lovingly, a weight in his touch and in his encouraging, filthy words that told you he wasn’t holding back now, you were his girl, he could show you the more true depth of his desire now.
And you were safe to do the same, you craved it actually, always wanting this and you reason you have this entire time, craving this level of care and need, even obsession with each other, so much trust and feelings at the center of it.
“So good, baby. Just like that, please…” you barely get the words out, lungs losing air from the focus he gave to your words even before you finished speaking.
His hands didn’t stay idle, the grip of his hands over your body like he wanted to memorize the feel of you, the way you dipped and curved and stretched and it drove you wild, the wet suction of his mouth the only thing your mind could focus on.
It’s a wonder you can even move when he finally withdraws his mouth from your puffy lips, turning his still hungry and devoted gaze towards your chest, those stiff peaks he’d been neglecting through all this, but no longer.
You squirmed into the flick of his tongue, the way he kissed your skin and praised and nipped and got his lips on every inch of skin that he could while you just laid back and relaxed, recovered from the orgasm still twitching in the muscles of your arms, your thighs, your tummy.
“Just look at you. Fuck, I am so lucky,” he rumbles against your collar and you wrap your arms around him, curled against him.
“I feel exactly the same way.”
His soft huff of breath against your neck tickled and you snake your legs around him, hoping to keep him close, just wanting to be in his arms and under his body for as long as you could.
You’d take forever, and that was all you needed to know.
The Shoreline Lofts
November 27
12:00 a.m.
The Batman was watching. Unblinking and focused, planted in place but ready for anything that might come. Folding himself into the inky cloak of the midnight hour.
The Iceberg Lounge was directly beneath the loft space but that wasn’t why Bruce had come tonight.
No, he was far more interested in what Penguin got up to in private, without guests and dancers and clients around, what secrets or clues might be yielded if he just sat and watched, surveilled for a while.
He was curious why the man you had recognized from the news was connected to Scarecrow and he didn’t believe for a moment that Oz wasn’t keeping tabs on what his men were doing, he had to have known the attack was going to happen.
Motives were unclear but pieces of this horrid puzzle were starting to come together so Bruce wouldn’t rest until he could see the grand picture for what it was.
He tipped the binoculars back up to the blackened edges of his cowl, zeroing in again on where Oz was playing pool, unaware a shadow sat spying through the skylight.
The building’s layout was already scoped out, every entry point found, tested, and memorized. Now Bruce would wait and watch until Penguin left the loft to slip in and see what he could find.
Gordon needed intel, something to go on after grasping for dead end’s, there was no time to sit on things, not after what he’d seen today.
Not after you and Alfred were almost hurt and especially not after he’d seen what the toxin did to people, recognizing the look of anguish in their eyes like his own reflection.
A waking nightmare was no stranger to Bruce so he’d make sure of this, Scarecrow would be made to answer.
A/N: It’s been so long and I have missed writing for Alfred and I’m really surprised and proud of what I wrote here! Went through a lot of emotions trying to get this on the page and there was a lot of self doubt and anxiety and unfairly beating myself up about things not coming together but here we are and I just really love that I pushed through and had fun putting this all together in the end 💕 We stan protective Alfred! Like if that’s not a whole husband right there!
Thanks for giving this a read!
no pressure tags! 💌 @flamingdisputes @saradika @ozarkthedog @tarabyte3 @tarrenterror25 @the-eyes-of-andyserkis @communism-bitches @xnodamsel @glitterjuju @mariahthelioness29 @ayoarticulate @fluffyprettykitty @unrefinedmusings @xoxovivafics @peachyteabuck
#amalia writes#alfred pennyworth x reader#alfred pennyworth x black reader#alfred pennyworth x woc#the batman!alfred pennyworth#alfred pennyworth smut#alfred pennyworth x you#alfred pennyworth fanfiction#alfred pennyworth fanfic#andy serkis
154 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Oh shit I did something. I wrote Val and Sam as podcasters. Warning: this is fucking stupid. I literally had to just stop writing bc it made less and less sense as I went on. But I love writing dialogue and it’s silly and this is tumblr. here have a little snack my dudes]
Graveyard Girls Episode 12: Roasting Ember’s Beauty Guru Era at 1 AM
“Hello and welcome to Local Ghost Smash or Pass—”
“I will fucking kill you.”
Valerie had to admit that Sam Manson’s ability to keep a completely straight face while saying the most unhinged nonsense was probably one of the reasons their video podcast was so popular. Her own ability to refrain from actually killing her was the reason it still existed at all. How they’d made it to episode twelve, however, still remained at least partially an enigma.
Though it was overall Danny’s kindness that slowly made his trio of friends into a tenuous quartet, Valerie had slowly become accepted by all of them, once she finally came to terms with Danny’s secret. Sam was the last to come around, though by the time they were both seventeen their tension was less due to fighting over a boy and more due to the fact that they could agree on almost nothing.
Most of Graveyard Girls was the two girls arguing, originally spawned by a viral TikTok Tucker posted, in which Valerie—at Danny’s bizarre request—tried to explain The Bachelor franchise to them and Sam being convinced she was making some of it up. People had been interested, and with Amity Park being a niche-but-also-hot topic, a weekly podcast was born.
“Okay but,” Sam leaned back in a vintage-looking office chair, “if I returned as a ghost, would you sma—” Sam cut herself off with a grunt as she dodged a throw pillow.
The show was mostly the two competing to see who could get the other to essentially rage quit, and while Sam’s personality was surprisingly just as strange as those of her best friends, Valerie was competitive enough to be a worthy opponent.
“You might just be, like, the worst person,” Valerie said, expertly catching the throw pillow as it was hurled back at her. “We’re not even three minutes in and I’m so uncomfortable with the energy you’ve created.”
“So our very last episode is three minutes long and titled Valerie Quits, then?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Manson?” For a tense moment they stared each other down. “Say it one more time, see what happens.”
“So what is today’s topic, then?”
It was a challenge, to see if Valerie had forgotten it was her turn to start. She had.
They had the Box Ghost to thank for it, too.
“Okay, so—full disclosure,” she began, and she looked at her phone, “it is…1:16 in the morning. And both of us have been awake for like…”
“More hours than usually recommended,” Sam continued, “for reasons. We wanted to get this episode out on time so we are crunching.”
“And suffering.”
“And suffering quite a bit,” Sam concluded, nodding. “So my topic is that Ember McClain is trying to release eyeshadow palettes.”
“You cannot just drop that on me.”
“It was dropped on me,” Sam told her, “I’ve had to live with this. You don’t read the DMs for our official account so you didn’t see it and this poor lady, she has this indie cosmetics company and she slides into our DMs asking ‘is this person for real? I think she’s a ghost? She wants to collab.’”
“Collab…”
“And she sent me like…a mock up. I’m putting it in the google drive so get ready.”
Valerie picked her phone, opening their shared drive and—sure enough—seeing a digital version of a very Ember-esque palette, showcasing both dark and neon shades.
“She’s unhinged. But like…some of the shimmers on here aren’t terrible.”
“That’s the thing—I don’t like the bright blues and greens but there’s potential here. I could make a look out of it.”
“I’ve got conditions—if she wants to start the beauty guru era of her ‘career’ I need a full press release saying it’s not a complex murder plot,” Valerie said.
“I swear under penalty of perjury that I’m not imprisoning your parents in hamster wheels to power my sound system,” Sam affected an impression that would positively enrage the ghostly pop star as she spun around in her chair.
“My mad power-grab via subliminal mind control is so over, okay? That was the old me. Get to fucking swatching.” Valerie continued, snickering. “We kid, but this is actually peak influencer already.”
“We’re writing her YouTube apology for her,” Sam said, and she trained her eyes on the camera before continuing, “you cannot use this. I know you’re watching, I said your name once, and your Obsession is name-searching the universe. You have to do your own YouTube apology.”
“We should edit her name out before we upload.”
“We should.”
“…We’re not going to.”
“No, and a certain somebody’s gonna be on my ass about it. We should perhaps move on…”
#danny phantom#sam manson#valerie gray#like what if I just wrote them as two weirdos talking about weird shit#that’s what I did#fanfic
121 notes
·
View notes
Text
me n bailey marathoned the first season of this show over the last few days. some thoughts:
Alan Cumming, specifically his accent and wardrobe, are by far the highlights of this show. i sincerely hope someone has made an edit compiling all of his outfits without any of the actual gameplay, because he is consistently serving cunt
like just look at this
that being said i did keep seeing him as Fegan Floop from Spy Kids
oh right there's an actual game/competition component to this
im just gonna get this out of the way: the entire premise of the show is fundamentally flawed. they keep trying to make it sound like the three Traitors in the group are "backstabbing" and "working against" the Faithful (non-Traitors), but, like, everyone on the show (Traitor or Faithful) is competing for the exact same prize pool. it's not like The Mole (or any other social deduction game), where the secret evil team actually has different goals diametrically opposed to those of the good team and has to complete them without having anyone notice. here, the evil team just... votes on someone to "murder" every night. that's it.
to emphasize this point: the literal only thing that can ever give you away as a Traitor is being bad at lying/concealing guilt. there are ZERO gameplay differences between the goals of a Traitor and the goals of a Faithful, which means the arguments over who to vote for banishing are based entirely on "gut feelings"
nobody on the show has ever played a social deduction game before. late into the season, there's a day where all 3 Traitors are alive and it's down to 6 people total (so 3v3). anyone who has played Mafia/Werewolf/ToS/etc knows what this means: barring bullshit last-minute rules from the producers, it is quite literally impossible for the Traitors to lose, because none of them can be voted up. it takes 4 out of 6 votes to exile someone, and there are only 3 Faithful left. if no Traitor votes for another Traitor, then it is, again, literally impossible for a Traitor to be exiled. furthermore, if they all coordinate their votes on one Faithful, all they have to do is convince one of the remaining two Faithfuls to vote with them, and they instantly win $180k (split three ways). and hey, wouldn't you know it, one of the Faithfuls (Kate) was already really suspicious, and another one of the Faithfuls (Quentin) said out loud multiple times that he was voting for her!
so what do you think the Traitors did?
god this part pissed me off so much im having to pause for breathe while typing this. okay. so.
two of the Traitors voted for the third Traitor, who got voted off.
after being voted off, youre supposed to walk up to the Circle of Truth and reveal if you were a Traitor or not. the guy who got eliminated (Christian) was entirely too nice and gracious about it. me n bailey discussed this and came to the conclusion that we would either a) out the other Traitors on the stand and explain, using game theory and math, exactly how fucking stupid they are, completely ruining the game for them, or b) pretend to cry a little while walking up to the Circle of Truth but as soon as you walk behind the first other Traitor's chair you flip it over backwards and elbow drop their nose into their face while screaming "YOU STOLE $60K FROM ME YOU SON OF A BITCH"
also the guy who got eliminated (Christian) was very clearly autistic and Every Single Reason the other traitors gave for not liking him was like straight out of the DSM V diagnostic criteria ("he talks too loud and laughs weird", "he's got way too much energy all the time", "his emotional responses don't make sense")
apparently there's a season 2 but i cannot bring myself to watch it after seeing Christian thrown to the lions (ayyy Sunday school reference)
also at one point a Faithful has to leave because of COVID (this was filmed in 2020) so the producers don't let the Traitors murder anyone that night for balance reasons, but to compensate, they tell them they can like. write down three names that will be publicly revealed to everyone the next morning, and then one of those people dies the next night. so obviously this is mostly a nerf for the Traitors because they miss a night of killing someone, but the intention was clearly to give the Traitors an opportunity to sow confusion by putting one or two of their OWN names onto the list to make them seem like Faithfuls. and they even had an extra objective during that day's game where one of the three people could earn a "shield" to protect them that night, so if a Traitor was on the list, they could basically "steal" the shield from the other 2 (since they obviously weren't getting killed no matter what). but i think the Traitors heard "write down three names" and "kill" and had all the blood rush to their respective dicks because they just wrote three Faithfuls lmao. deeply unserious show
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
one thing that always perplexes me is how often i see takes on tucker where the work positions him as a great dad*, fluent in sangheili language and culture, and most of all, a great diplomat.
i'm not here to yuck anyone's yum and i, too, am absolutely transfixed and enraptured by this man's oscillation between "my one purpose in life is to constantly test the human limits of Annoyingness" and "sudden, shocking extreme competence with no warning" like a little Newton's cradle. like, i just spent 7000 words indulging myself in thinking about a version of tucker that listens a lot more to the "do whatever you gotta to protect the people you love and do what you think is right regardless of what people think" cartoon angel on his shoulder and less to the "that sounds hard i just wanna mouth off, jerk off, fuck off, and negg church" devil. i cannot throw stones and clearly i think that's a fun and valid interpretation of how his character could evolve. but evolve is the keyword there and it baffles me when this gets treated as the fact of how he immediately snapped into being as soon as he had junior, you know?
like. obviously tucker ended up doing some massively impressive shit as an ambassador in sandtrap. but that's because he wasn't being an ambassador, he was being The Final Girl in il/ct's slasher flick. getting trapped in a beseiged temple is, traghilariously, the best thing that could have happened for him in terms of being good at that job. if tucker were a pathfinder character he would have 18s in "dealing with your life suddenly being taken over by ancient alien religion bullshit", "surviving crazy shit through sheer spite and the adrenaline rush of pissing off whatever asshole has made it their life's mission to kill you this time", and "being the only person who knows what fucked up shit is going on while the rest of the bgc ignore you". he would have a 2 in "saying things that make people want to kill you LESS". de-escalation is not in this man's skillset. he cannot even handle being normal about human women. appreciating the intricacies of sangheili culture and politics, human culture and politics, and sangheili-human relations?
Tucker: People learn English all the time, it aren't that hard.
Church: Maybe you should try learning his language.
Tucker: Fuck that, we got here first, and that makes this a colony. Those're the rules, dude. Earth colony, Earth language.
Church: Tucker there's thousands of languages spoken on Earth.
Tucker: Hyeah, but only one that kicks ass. And that's the one we're teaching. English 101, remedial kick-ass.
i know this is pre-junior and doubtlessly, he is more interested in this stuff after junior (because junior's life does depend on sangheili politics and human-alien relations) and MUST be less dense about it after HAVING to do it as a job. like by osmosis at the very least something must have permeated his brain. but the gap between this^ and "knowledgeable enough to be an asset in this career, one people need at least one relevant degree for" is, uh, bigger than a few months between leaving blood gulch and being sent out to the field
sometimes i think about what a fucking trip it would be to be on the UNSC diplomatic team with tucker LMAO can you imagine how unpopular he must have been. a bunch of polisci and IR nerds like fists clenched shaking like leaves trying to restrain the urge to give this guy a swirlie because he cannot stop sounding like a fucking family guy episode while you're trying to, like, convince the warrior queen of some isolated Sangheili heretical sect to ally with the Swords of Sangheilios and the species they've been dead set on annihlating for decades. and also you know he's only an ambassador as like the weirdest most fucked up variation of a nepo baby. nepo forced interspecies religious incubator. the token chestburster virgin mary hire. the simultaneous Hatred for this guy making your job hell, the impotent rage of knowing that it is, actually, important that he be there for Symbolic reasons, and feeling sympathetic to him. you know part of why he's Like This is literally just because he's 20 and should be at the club but has had the year from hell and didn't ask for this. it's easy to forget that because he doesn't complain about any of the actually bad things that happened and just rolls with whatever crazy shit comes his way. complaining is reserved for being an annoying little bitch about petty shit.
ANYWAYS i'm not saying stop having fun with very competent versions of tucker. we're all just here to have fun. i just like what a weird combo of competent and disaster he is, as i interpret him, and i, personally, am incapable of interpreting him as being actually very good at his job as ambassador
*the only two options are not "bad dad" and "great dad". having an alien parasite non-consensually implanted in you by a manipulative fraudster to force his own involvement in a prophecy - oh and also their species is trying to exterminate yours - and going, "well, this baby didn't choose this, they're just a baby, and you know what? my baby. i love this baby unreservedly and unconditionally, fuck you." shows a capacity for love and forgiveness that's frankly fucking insane, both in the good-impressive way and the what-is-going-on-in-your-brain-and-how-did-this-kind-of-decision-making-not-get-you-killed-yet way. and tucker very clearly loves junior a lot and does his best - which, i want to reiterate, is absolutely wild considering the circumstances - but he wasn't ready for a kid, is bad at accepting responsibility especially for others, and the way that Things Never Stop Happening in his life mean he is really not very present. and it's not JUST because of things happening outside of his control - there were periods after season 8 and after season 13 he probably could have permanently reunited with junior and didn't.
#rvb#rvb tucker#lavernius tucker#fuck it we tagging this. look at my post boy.#tucker#alexa send post
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
The term “social transition” has a non-trans history in the psychology of adolescence. In the 1980s, it was an operative metaphor for describing adolescence through the American trope of a rocky period of self-making, what one psychologist in 1978 termed “the difficulty of adolescence as a transitional period.” The primary “transition” that concerned psychologists at the time was school, where social shifts in friend groups and hierarchies from middle school to high school affected a young person’s self-esteem and mental integrity, resulting either in positive self-actualization or, if the social transition went poorly, “problem behavior.”³
The term “social transition” was only later adopted by psychologists and psychiatrists looking to powerfully expand their jurisdiction over trans youth to include entirely non-medical practices that often spur parents to reject or harm their kids: wearing a dress, cutting or growing out hair, wearing a binder or a bra, wearing makeup, or adopting a new name and pronouns. Making those banal but concrete practices of changing gender into psychiatric events was intended to convince anxious and angry parents that they shouldn’t put down their children. By the same token, tying practices of clothing and self-description to healthy development overinflated them with a pathological degree of significance, upping the ante and creating a lucrative target, both for parents of trans youth who wanted to stop their children from transitioning and, now, politicians.
I don’t mean to imply that psychiatry directly caused HB 2885, just that it clearly holds one part of the blame for inventing the root vulnerability that Gragg has taken advantage of in Missouri. If anything, the attachment of sex offender felonies to a teacher complimenting a teenager’s haircut exposes, once and for all, how fraudulent the medicalization of transition has been all along. Gragg can claim the right of the state to control children’s dress and speech (masquerading as the rights of parents) through teachers and counselors, in part, because psychiatry and medicine first claimed the right to regulate trans youth’s practices of transition.
Still, the causal events that led to HB 2885 run far deeper than the shallow history of “social transition” as an especially foolish psychiatric fiction. Here lies the far bigger problem raised by this bill. Not only will psychiatrists prove to be the least effective political allies of trans youth in Missouri, but contemporary queer and transgender culture’s elevation of the private right to dress as the sine qua non of politics is also quite useless as a political strategy.
Part of what I gather stuns in bills like HB 2885 is their audacity. The law would target the most conservative, least politically subversive of all transgender practices: individual style, identification, and language-use. In the case of minors, “social transition” is also a cheap compromise offered to young people who are refused blockers and hormones by disapproving parents and doctors, but that compromise is offered in a broader queer and transgender culture that has elevated self-identification through style as the ultimate arbiter of being transgender, making it much harder to advocate for a genuine right to transition for anyone, teenager or adult.
[...]
Students have very limited First Amendment rights on school campuses, meaning that they cannot present themselves as private individuals enjoying the right to dress as they please.⁷Their self-expression is governed from the outset by a competing set of custodians, from parents to schoolteachers, to psychiatrists and doctors, to the Missouri House of Representatives. Trans youth’s interests are therefore materially extraneous to the mainline of contemporary queer and transgender culture, whose architects were wealthy, college-educated adults whose prior enjoyment of full-citizenship was the very reason they demanded only the affirmation of a right to dress.
I suspect that part of the genuine shock of bills like HB 2885 is that most people reasoned that LGBT liberalism’s elevation of the private individual over all other political concerns would inoculate dress and language from state interference. It evidently has not. What perhaps has been misunderstood, then, is how the state exercises power. The law cannot prohibit being transgender, for there is no such state of being. The state has no need to target people’s interior selves, either, for the law can seize people where it always has, in concrete social practices that it simply declares are the undesirable traits of transgender people—namely, practices of transition.
Jules Gill-Peterson, The Unimportance of Wearing Clothes.
[emphasis added]
#antipsychiatry#psychiatry#jules gill peterson#trans#cissexism#mine#readings#i don't agree with her 100% here on the relative conservatism of social transition and advocacy for it [or the discounting of#trans virtuality writ large] but this is immensely important context through which to approach the increasing enclosure of myriad healthcar#technologies & broader technologies of 'self' from tgnc ppl#especially as she points out young ppl#adultism#ageism
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
top five things i am currently insane about in borderlands as usual:
a) timothy lawrence and the way that he's so commonly misinterpreted. i want to see an in-depth exploration of all the less "funny cute anxious bean" or whatever aspects of his personality. i want to see the remnants of jack still lingering in his personality and the way this makes other people uncomfortable sometimes. i want to see the fact that he's a resilient mf who survived being a vault hunter. i want a genuine exploration of the relationship (platonic or romantic) that he could have with moxxi, where they both simultaneously explore the people that they are underneath the literal mask/corporate image of themselves that they present. i want to see the crimson raiders send him to atlas for a new hand because rhys fucking OWES them after they saved his ass, and i want to see him have a conversation with zer0, one of the people who killed jack. i also want to see him accidentally scare the shit out of rhys on multiple occasions. I WANT TO SEE IT ACKNOWLEDGED THAT HE'S TERRIBLE AT ACTING LIKE JACK ON PURPOSE, but when he's not intentionally doing it? jesus, it catches you off guard. sometimes the things he says as himself sound like something that would naturally come out of jack's mouth.
b) katagawa jr. can i ever decide entirely whether or not i wanted him to be reworked into a more competent, long-standing antagonist that would EVENTUALLY be killed by rhys personally in a grand display of him killing a foil of himself/ a representation of the worst person that he could have become in order to protect the new future he built for himself and all the people working for him- OR an eventually slowly redeemed character who survived the vault hunter's attack only to be disgraced by Maliwan and forced to gain a new perspective on the world much the same way Rhys was when he was initially ousted to being a janitor at Hyperion before going to Pandora? no. i cannot decide which of these paths i like better, but i really want either of them to have happened.
c) pure unadulterated rage about what they did to vaughn's character post tftbl. that's it. no elaboration needed.
d) the lack of content about maya meeting and knowing about other sirens and getting to connect with them over their experiences. i want to see more about her personal horror encountering angel in bl2- realizing that this can be a siren's fate sometimes if they're unlucky or defeated, weaponized and used for their powers as a tool. i want to see her meet lilith, and bond with her over the weight on their shoulders- being a vault hunter and a siren all at once and being looked up to as a legend, a myth, and a saviour all at once. also why the fuck did they kill her off in bl3 it's so fucking awful she could've been an awesome returning character and instead of just having her return to athenas they could have done a whole arc about her begrudgingly returning to her place of origin despite complicated feelings about it because they're in danger.
e) TANNNNNNNNNNNISSSSS. i love patricia tannis. number one tannis fan over here. i just want to see more of her interacting with everyone in general, actually. sirens and eridian history are her favourite, let me see her talking lilith and maya into silly experiments for her own personal gain. making friends, slowly, as she connects with the crimson raiders more closely than she thought she would, with other scientific minds. like hammerlock! they have different realms of study, but i like to think they'd get along. have her wander begrudgingly into moxxi's bar (unpleasantly loud and busy, but needs must) and ask her for a favour because she needs someone persuasive to convince the vault hunters to spare a bit of eridium for a machine she's got in the works. more her please
#borderlands#rambling#borderlands 3#timothy lawrence#maya the siren#borderlands 2#patricia tannis#katagawa jr#vaughn the money man#rhys tftbl#bunch of other mfs i wont list them all#tales from the borderlands#etc.
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
Obsessions for 8th Housers?
Do 8th housers get obsessed with someone and stay obsessed for years? It may not be romantic interest but even someone who displays the traits and emotions that the native embodies inside - quite literally the shadow work.
It happens in their life that they often get obsessed with someone, thinking about them all the time, when they speak they only speak about that person, they cannot even attempt to think about someone else, their emotions are tied to that person's behaviour, their memory is flooded with that person, they think about all the conversations with them and all the encounters with them, they make up scenarios in their head, begin their day with that person and end with that person. The subject of their obsession may not even know that the native is obsessed with them, native pretends everything is normal on the outside but secretly inside they are obsessing over that one person like crazy
You would wonder what the hell is this? Is it something deeply psychological issue? It turns out that these natives get obsessed with people who have something in their physical or material life that the native lacks but wants to have. 8th house deals with intense emotions and envy too is felt intensely. They are often not happy at the success of others and may even feel envious of other people's accomplishments. 8th house is psychologically complicated for a reason. If the native does not have certain things in life, he feels envious and bitter against someone who does have that thing. It could be something like respect in society, powerful job, elite lifestyle, somebody's looks or intelligence.
The natives may not even realize they are doing it and since envying someone is frowned upon socially as ethically incorrect, they feel ashamed of their emotions and add to the self-sabotage. That something is wrong with them or that they are a bad person for envying someone else's good fortune. Even talking about this behaviour is taboo because who wants to admit that they are an envious and greedy person? The envy is not unfounded because in - the material world a lot of people compete for few resources so most people are bound to lack the resources; - not everyone starts from the same point in life; - not everyone has the same natural inclination or potential; - not everyone wins the genetic lottery or is exceptionally lucky; - not everyone has the required intelligence or ability to understand concepts. The usual things that successful people say "I am here because I worked hard, the harder I work the luckier I get" is not quite correct because our decisions, choices, thoughts, instincts, impulses, motivations are often unconscious and only make sense in the hindsight. They also underestimate the extreme luck they had to beat the competition and know the right method that makes them successful at something.
On top of that, many of them go on to flash, rub it in other's faces, identify with their success and use it for hierarchy control. That others are inferior to them, "you are an inferior human because you are not as successful as me". Often they do it unconsciously because they do not realize it is their insecurities and inferiority complexes, despite the success, that they still want to prove themselves to others and maintain their dominance over others. It is true that not everyone who gets successful in life is capable of handling that success emotionally, it goes to their head, they become arrogant and flamboyant, they are convinced that they are great and special, that they know better than others, that they must be better humans with better karma. This is no surprise, what I am telling is the insights I have observed over the years.
Take this astrology page, for example. I know astrology because it was a natural impulse in me, it is easier for me to understand the language of astrology than others who are simply not meant for it, since it is my natural interest I also spend a lot of time thinking about it so I automatically get better at it naturally, for some reason I was born with the genetic lottery in occult and a natal chart with karmic influences in the field of occult. None of my family members are into astrology and some of them do not even know the basics. Astrology is like Spanish to them, completely dumbfounded they are when they see the birth chart. Does this mean I am a better human than them because I understand something they do not? Can I use the astrological knowledge to dominate and show off to others? No, that is arrogance, pride, being self-important and being delusional that my astrology knowledge is something I willed. I did not will it, it happened to me. And it is not permanent and eternal, I will die someday and with that my astrology gifts will end too. It is my purpose for this lifetime, not eternally giving.
For these reasons, 8th house is the shadowy and complicated thing that we do not understand on the surface. How easy it is to slip into entanglements of pride, ego, arrogance, possession over your material accomplishments. What we do not realize is that behind the glamour of success is deep fear of uncertainty, insecurity, lack of agency over one's life and fear of losing everything they have gained in life. Fear of losing good fortune makes someone dominate others so nobody else takes their place, become arrogant because internally they do not believe they actually deserve their good fortune, manipulate and misguide others so they do not become successful like them, build a brand for themselves so they leave a legacy and remain important even after death, they try to act like they know the secrets of success because they cannot digest that their success might just be a fluke or gamble of luck.
However, if these tendencies are ignored and dismissed, they bottle up inside and inflate the native's ego. With transition to 8th house or activation of 8th house in its ruler's dasha, this inflated ego is threatened and forced to collapse, undergo change and transform. The end result is to gradually realize that ego is merely an attachment to material form but what we forget to see is the wholeness of Self beyond the ego. When you go beyond "I, my, mine, myself", you realize that you are a nameless, faceless and invisible something. How scary is it to be a nothing in nowhere as a nobody! So you cling to the past, identity, material life, out of fear that you will never come back from the underworld.
So the obsessions that happen to 8th housers are indication of personal issues that native denies. For eg, it may be someone you deeply hate, even the way they talk just disgusts you, the way they move sends chills down your spine, you hate their vibes and how selfish they are. But at the same time, you are obsessed with them, does this person deserve your obsession? No. But can you shake it off? Not unless you accept the hard truth that you are just as selfish, deceitful, egotistical as the subject of your obsession. The rule of 8th house is that awareness and consciousness will set you free while denial and refusal to look into the shadow will keep you trapped.
Similarly, if you are envious of someone's fortune, can you identify your insecurities and label them? Can you achieve that fortune in some way? If not, can you adjust your perception around it? Often feelings are the guiding lights in this house. What no one can tell you, you feel your way through it. Here is no guru and no mentor, here is you and your feelings. That is why being in tune with your feelings is painful, mentally uncomfortable and tiring but essential task for 8th housers. Lucky are those who identify this psychological hurdle. There are many 8th housers who never realize that they can solve their own problems with change of perception or becoming more conscious of their feelings. Often, the obsessions with people will end when you are self-aware and witnessing your feelings, no matter how uncomfortable they are.
#astrology#astro community#astrology observations#astro observations#astroblr#astro notes#astro tumblr#astrology blog#astrology notes#8th house#venus in 8th house#sun in 8th house#moon in 8th house#shadow self
231 notes
·
View notes
Text
Game of Survival
Pairing: Darklina x Star Summoner!Reader
Inspired by the Hunger Games
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“You know who we are?”
Despite the swaying of the carriage as it speeds down the Vy, you manage to remain seated as you look at the two people in front of you. Staring at the man who had spoken, you nod.
“Aleksander Morozova and Alina Starkov. The first, and only, joint victors of the Grisha Games.”
Each year, a region of Ravka is selected and its people are tested for Grisha power. A member of each of the seven Grisha orders are brought to the capital of Os Alta where they will be trained by a victor Grisha of the same order, before they are entered into the Grisha Games for the entertainment of the nation and beyond.
The Games are incredibly popular amongst the otkazat’sya, with the governments of Fjerda and Shu Han offering their own Grisha as tributes.
As Ravka’s only shadow summoner, Aleksander had won his first Games at thirteen, the first year that had eight tributes competing instead of the traditional seven. His victory has allowed him to live in the capital as a mentor ever since, though no other shadow summoners have been discovered yet.
Considered far too young to watch the Games by your mother, you hadn’t seen Aleksander’s power on display as he emerged victorious after a vicious fight to the death with a tidemaker the same age as him.
But the year Alina had been discovered as the sun summoner, you were old enough to watch as she wielded her light ferociously against her opponents. As another unique summoner, Aleksander had been assigned as her mentor.
The year Alina had entered was an event for the history books. In a dramatic twist, the Gamemaster sent Aleksander into the arena and the audience had watched with morbid delight as he had slayed countless tributes to find a wounded Alina.
It was all the people could talk about, whether he would be able to find her in time.
When it came down to them as the final two in the arena, an announcement was made, and they became the first ever dual winners of the Grisha Games. People had been elated, celebrating in the streets, and the parties had lasted all night long.
Some people still believe they should have fought to the death. There can only be one victor of the Games. But looking at the two of them now, their hands clasped together as they sit with their shoulders touching, you cannot imagine either one of them killing the other.
“How long have you known that you’re Grisha?” Alina asks you.
“Since I was ten. My mother always knew I was different, so she made sure I was never tested. I don’t think she ever knew exactly how different I was.”
“You can summon at will?” Aleksander asks.
Briefly, you glance down at the silver cuffs that encircle each of your wrists, you’re allowed normal movement wearing them but they prevent you from using your power. Then you look back at Aleksander and nod.
He studies your expression for a moment, before he nods slowly in acknowledgement.
“Keep that to yourself for the moment. We’ll use it to our advantage.”
The months before Alina had entered the arena, support for her had been mixed. Some people thought her unique power of sunlight was a blessing that would carry her to instantaneous victory.
However, the footage from training sessions and interviews with her had many people convinced that she was a naive young woman with a limited grasp of her abilities.
Now, you wonder how much of that had been a manipulation technique crafted by the man in front of you, who had been subjected to the cruelty of the Games at a young age and has been dealing with the whims of the nobility ever since.
“You’ll be living with us for the next six months,” Alina informs you, though you already knew that.
“Next week, you’re to meet the King,” Aleksander adds.
Nerves bloom in your stomach at the thought of displaying your power to the Court and Aleksander seems to notice your apprehension as he settles his free hand over yours.
“We shall be right by your side.”
“Until it’s time for me to fight to the death against seven other people.”
“Until then,” he agrees. “We will do all we can to ensure that you are prepared for the Games.”
The sound of people gathered on the streets, clamouring for a look at the couple’s first ever tribute, reaches your ears and you’re tempted to cower away from the windows even though the decorative layer of lace acts as a curtain to shield you from their view.
“What do you want me to be?” you ask quietly.
They both stare questioningly at you.
In response, you nod in the direction of Aleksander and begin to explain.
“Before your Games you were small and unassuming, an intentional underdog. Afterwards you’re mysterious and aloof.”
Glancing at Alina, you observe the curious tilt of her head and the intrigued spark in her eyes.
“Before, everyone thought you were innocent and helpless, then strong and brave during the Games, and now you’re Os Alta’s darling.”
Nervously, you look down at your tattered clothing that had been torn during the struggle after your power had been revealed - when you had tried to escape.
Aleksander leans closer, hooking a finger beneath your chin so that you meet his dark eyes. His gaze flickers over your features as if he is attempting to memorise every inch.
“You are going to be undeniable in your power. You will show them that you are bright and beautiful and something remarkable.”
Alina brushes a few strands of hair from your face, smoothing it gently back into place as Aleksander traces a delicate line along your jaw to keep your eyes on the two of them as he continues to speak.
“They will all want you by their side, and not a single one of them will be deserving as your equal.”
His words have you spellbound by his casual confidence, as if he is speaking this all into existence.
“You are going to be our little star,” Alina says softly with a smile that has warmth blooming in your chest. “You’ll never have to hide yourself, ever again.”
Then the carriage jerks to a stop at the gates of the Morozova estate. A crowd has formed by the entrance, otkazat’sya commoners all eager to catch a glimpse of you.
Aleksander steps out of the carriage first, smoothing down the front of his black kefta as his dark eyes skim over the crowd.
He then extends his hand for Alina and the sound of the crowd intensifies at the sight of the sun summoner glistening in her black and gold kefta.
Inhaling shakily, you close your eyes and attempt to draw some strength from Aleksander’s words. You are going to be undeniable.
Head held high, you take Aleksander and Alina’s waiting hands as you step down onto the cobbled path. Some people in the crowd openly weep, whilst others make the symbol of the saints with their hand.
The reverent whispers of your name send a shiver down your spine and as you step through the gates Aleksander ducks his head down to murmur against your ear,
“We are going to change the world, little star.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi
S&B Tag List: @motheroffae
Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @veescorneroftheworld
BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters
#darklina x reader#aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov#aleksander morozova x reader#alina starkov x reader#darklina moodboard#shadow and bone au#shadow and bone x reader
206 notes
·
View notes
Text
PROPAGANDA:
Clockers:
The worst best family ever they will kill you for fun and cackle when things go up in flames, they’re fiercely protective of each other and also mistrust each other in about the same amount, no therapist could fix them and I don’t want any to attempt cause what they’ve got going on is far funnier than anything else they could do if they had any semblance of a normal relationship
The perfect chaotic family dynamic in a hunger games style world where only one is competent enough to keep them all alive c:
They are the funniest guys your honor. Scar cannot pronounce the L in Clockers. They do weird family rp and murder Ethoslab. Cleo reuniting with Bdubs and Scar in death made me tear up.
Reluctant mom and her found family of two off-the-wall "kids" who drive her mad and commit crimes in a death game... That is all
Monolith Trio:
And they were roommates! Bdubs has an exile in his basement who moved in without telling him and a king in his attic.
GRRRR WHERE DO I START? All people in this trio are also a good duo, for one! They r legit the definitions of, what historians would call, 'good friends' or, even better, 'roomates'. All their interactions are <3333 also if youre not convinced yet, do it for the transgender and male girlfriends.
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
what zero class analysis does to a mfer
the republicans and the democrats are both competing with each other for the same goal - to be the ruling capitalist party. they both want to 'fuck you up' exactly the same amount in any way that matters - being, they're both political wings of the exact same political class, the bourgeoisie, and on anything regarding class matters, i.e., regarding us, the workers, they agree wholeheartedly. the democrats are not your friends, they're not even comparatively your friends unless you're yourself bourgeois.
and, i mean, hell, look at the rest of the fucking world - try saying 'the ones who actively want to fuck you up are republicans' to the people drone-striked by obama. to anyone affected by the US empire which both parties wholeheartedly support.
you cannot try to argue that one of these parties is somehow ambivalent to the working people when they are both parties of a class that only subsists off of the exploitation and violent repression of workers! not just their power, but their continued existence and survival, is entirely dependent on the workers being repressed and murdered at every turn
there is no neutrality on class matters, the US government is not sitting above society, deigning itself to represent neutral Citizens, it's an organ of a ruling class that functions as a class dictatorship - there are elections for the bourgeoisie, between bourgeois candidates, where the outcome is determined by the bourgeoisie (not just because the candidate that wins is 91% of the time the one with more money, but also because the electoral college literally doesn't have to follow the popular vote anyway, and can vote how they like). the proletariat isn't represented in US politics, and is that at all surprising to anyone?
this is a nation built on genocide and slavery, and somehow people have convinced themselves that it must have a fair and just system at its core, that it's simply impossible for it to be built in a way that makes political power impossible for certain groups of people. how can anyone possibly think this? the people who built it owned slaves.
544 notes
·
View notes
Text
VOTE BLAZE FOR FHR TUMBLR SEXYMAN
now why on earth would i, a humble man, ask the people to vote for blaze over ricardo? what basis could i possibly have to convince you to consider him over (arguably) los diablos most eligible bachelor?? friends, i come to you with two simple arguments:
1. blaze shows a surprising amount of depth when you dive under the flashy exterior
2. i cannot stress enough how funny it would be to watch ortega lose in the first round
blaze is undeniably a suave, arrogant asshole who desperately needs somebody to kick his ass. hes a little prick to the puppet (if theyre male, if theyre female he switches his tune Damn Quick) and he somehow managed to fumble chen??? which is frankly embarrassing for him.
However. however. hes shown in both very small interactions when you meet him and during the actual fight to be a competent, strategic hero who cares about the people. as step points out, when the puppet stumbles over him his immediate reaction is to treat them like somebody who needed help. during the fight, he first takes the time to strategize, making sure to dial back his powers to make sure nobody gets hurt– to the point that he hinders himself. even chen says that blaze always had careful control, to the point where if you fry him in the meeting room, chen suspects somethings up.
hes also surprisingly reasonable about step, giving serious thought to what they say and do regardless of how cruel of a villain they are. yeah ok ortega has the 'sympathetic' villain relationship status but does that really do anything about his perceptions of them??? he still readily calls them a monster during the villain reveal. meanwhile it takes one(1) conversation with blaze to get him questioning his bosses, and it literally does not matter how many people youve killed, he ends up pestering alvarez about it anyway. i firmly believe that hes put a lot more thought about the problems in the system he works under, even if he puts more faith in it than he should.
anyway thats enough serious propaganda, heres the sillier ones: hes such a loser. like 24/7 nonstop. this man is utterly pathetic. i know i talked about how good he is as a hero but listen to me. he gets all dismissive about a step that has less than 55 infamy, but i have 9 steps (though i only talk about 4). i have lost to him by accident Once. i have to codedive so i can lose to him On Purpose for the achievement it is so bad. it is so funny watching all the ways he can eat shit during that fight. truly the pinnacle of bisexual failboy.
I ALMOST FORGOT THAT HE ACCIDENTALLY KINDA OUTS HIS CONNECTION WITH CHEN BECAUSE HE WAS BEING SALTY??? LIKE
POV YOU KEEP YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THE MARSHAL OF LOS DIABLOS SECRET FOR MONTHS ONLY TO POTENTIALLY EXPOSE IT TO A RANDO BCAUSE YOU WERE MAD ABOUT BEING EXES.
it has also come to my attention via @allens-chocolate-dreams that rat king can become his fan if step falls out the window again and this is extremely important to me.
can rat king be a fan of ortega??? no, because ortega is a loser whos immune to telepathy. very clear whos superior here imo. oh and im probably legally required to say that he has fire powers which makes him objectively hotter than ortega.
finally and most importantly,
if blaze wins i will draw ric dying in a glue trap.
#did i search up blaze sections within the code just to reread them and make points for this propaganda?#dont even worry about it#im. really really sorry this turned out to be more of a character study than a propoganda post for sexyman????#ig this is for the literary analysis whores#honestly my favourite scene is when he kills a civilian by accident and i Really wish that was touched upon more#because jesus christ. thats /messed/#i hope he becomes sopping wet in the next game about the horror of accidentally murdering someone#anyways yes#vote blaze fhr tumblr sexyman 2k24#captain blaze#ortega#fhr#pulp speaks#fhr sexyman tournament
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you do a poly relationship between Yandere Hela and Wanda/Scarlet Witch?
》Fun. I can basically feel the overwhelming danger.
There is one reason they are able to share and it's because they know all too well they are very capable of killing each other. Why fight when there's an easy solution? It would be impossible to leave one of them so both of them means goodbye to any freedom.
Hela sponsors your time out with Wanda. Hela's a very busy woman and can't have you on her lap at all times, as much as she would like that. Wanda has free reign of Asgard and it's deemed safe for you because the witch cannot fail. Everyone knows to give you two whatever you ask for and in turn Wanda will tell Hela about it. Suddenly that business get another shipment imported.
If and when Wanda takes you back to Earth the Avengers know and they do intercept. They're going to check on the both of you but make no mistake, they are not going to help you escape. Wanda is one thing and if it was just her they would maybe think about it, but Hela changes everything. Their combined force would defeat her, definitely, but the devastation is not worth it. They will aid them without getting too involved.
At first it's basically a love triangle but at a certain point it becomes a full throuple. No one could have predicted it unless they were legit psychic because in the beginning they were a hairline from killing each other all the time. Now that they're not competing anymore you and everyone else are a million times safer. You're not safe but safer.
Strangely enough, Wanda is not considered a concubine. She's a diplomat of Midgard. Not a single person falls for the title though. She acts like a tourist. No one says anything about it. The concubines will sometimes convince Wanda to let them tag along, not only to have fun but to gain her or Hela's favor. On that same coin, some of the concubine take the chance to give you a break, say it's the equivalent of a 'girls night'.
As far as any kind of punishment, you will not be punished if you want to live. Hela is very cool with offing people as we've established. If you do get 'punished' the ensuing war between these impossible women is kind of your fault. And honestly, you know better.
Say bye to privacy, personal space, and the possibility of having a job. You will be pampered, loved, and served, as long as you submit to being loved. Who needs freedom anyways?
#ask and you shall receive#marvel#hela odinson#wanda maximoff#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere marvel#gender neutral reader
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
I love how TCW tries SO HARD to convince us that Satine and her government are somehow competent capable people that brought a twenty year peace to Mandalore that it had never really seen before, but then every time we actually see Satine and her government try to handle a problem they are hilariously terrible at it. There is absolutely ZERO evidence that Satine (or these people currently running her government) could've managed to take a Mandalore just out of a civil war and brought it together into a mostly functioning society. The current situation during the Clone War where they're having some trade issues and a few terrorist attacks cannot POSSIBLY be any worse than the situation would have been just after their own civil war ended, and somehow they're flailing and floundering around without being able to come up with answers to their problems or agree with each other on anything.
Satine HERSELF can't manage to bring any of them to heel or do anything of any real worth. She just tries to sic Padme on them who proceeds to try to convince them to join the Republic that Satine fought so hard not to join just like... a few months ago at most. And then she has to bring in a Jedi to figure out her problems FOR HER and they send a child because they're like "yeah your problems are baby problems compared to what we're dealing with, you will literally only need a student to help you figure this out" and they're RIGHT. A Jedi baby plus a few other high schoolers manage to out-do what Satine and all of her councilors or any level of law enforcement are apparently capable of doing and they do it in the span of like 3 days flat.
Satine sees an attack happen and just literally rolls over like "well the people have chosen Death Watch, sucks for us I guess" without trying to fight back in any way shape or form. I find it hard to believe she didn't face some strong opposition in her early years just post the civil war that was any worse than what happens with Death Watch and the crime organizations. And it doesn't really make any sense that she would've responded to them in such a lackluster way given that she is still in power 20 years later. So why is she responding this way now? Why doesn't she try ANYTHING? Why does she just sit back and accept defeat until she literally just decides to call in the Jedi to fix her problems FOR HER? Again!
Like Satine and her government are just so hilarious incompetent at their own jobs that it calls into question how Satine and her government managed to stay in power for as long as they did and do any of the things we're told she's accomplished.
#star wars#the clone wars#star wars the clone wars#swtcw#tcw#anti satine kryze#anti satine#satine critical#satine kryze critical
97 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
nishaloisart
I am a Realism Artist
wannaohana
약속해요
otaku-lazy-panda
(≧ω≦) Hai~
kissyedits
shine!
scribbleinfernoe
afraid of god