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holidayinhell · 21 days

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Whumpay: Operating Table

Will post one excerpt per theme bc I simply do not have The Time!!

Characters: sadistic Whumper and coward Whumpee. TWs: nonsexual nudity, extreme fear, restraints, male whump, implied organ harvesting

Whumpee found himself at a loss as the metal door creaked open.

The cold tiled room held only one powerful light, its brilliance bounced across a gleaming metallic surface positioned in the center of the room. As a whole it was empty, containing only one chair, a cooler box, and two rolling cabinets on either side of the operating table.

“No... no way.”

The captor's gloved, heavy hands rested on both of Whumpee’s shoulders.

“Are you surprised?” Whumper said almost directly into Whumpee's ear. He cocked an eyebrow. “You know how this works.”

The words rang in Whumpee’s ears. Of course he knew. Whumpee was all too familiar with the chop shop he’d been detained in for the past few weeks. He had suffered countless sleepless nights filled with the shrieks and pleas of the misfortunate souls who’d been sacrificed to the Operating Room.

But Whumpee had lasted longer than any of the other captives ever had. They had an expiration date of maybe two weeks maximum, whereas he’d been held here for over four months. And while he didn’t understand the exact reason he was treated so well, he never questioned it, and was always pleasant to the man who had decided to keep him around so long. Whumpee got along well with Whumper.

“Are you- what is this?” Whumpee asked incredulously.

“Ah. You’re kidding around, huh?” He turned to face the larger man behind him. He feigned a weak smile.

“No.”

His smile dropped and his palms became sticky with sweat. He knew what happened in this room. Well, he didn’t know exactly, but he knew the people Whumper ushered in never came out.

But then again, Whumper also had a playful side—playful in a kind of horrible, sadistic way— this could be his version of a joke. Yes, surely this was just a cruel joke.

“…what is this?

“This is exactly what it looks like.”

“You’re messing with me.”

“You still think so?” Whumper half smiled.

“Ha-ha.” Whumpee said weakly. His heart was pounding in his ears. “For a second there you had me.”

“Haven’t had you yet. Soon, though.”

The captive froze. He could feel the hungry gaze of Whumper's eyes locked on him, studying his every tremor of fear with cold fascination. Whumpee's head fell, confidence shattered.

“Not this.” He half-whispered to the tiles on the ground. “Not like this. Please.”

He stole a glance back at Whumper to see if making a run for it was a viable option. It wasn’t.

Sensing the his urge to flee, Whumper side-stepped to block the entryway.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

Whumpee’s knees gave out and he crumbled forward. There was no escaping this.

“I can’t, I can’t. I can’t do it.. Please. Please!” he wailed. “I’ll do anything! Anything anything…” Saliva strings fell from his gaping, moaning mouth, tears and mucus ran down his face.

“Well apparently not.”

“But-but, I’ve been good, I-I thought I was doing good, I don’t, I don’t— I don’t wanna die!”

“You have been good.” Whumper reassured him with a sigh. He stooped down to wipe the muck from Whumpee’s face off with the scratchy arm of his sleeve. “So keep it up, mkay?”

Sobs wrenched in Whumpee's throat, urging him to scream, but he swallowed hard, doing his best to suppress the sound, fearing it might enrage Whumper before he had the chance to reason with him. He knew crying wouldn’t help, and begging would only take him as far as Whumper allowed before caving his head in.

Whumpee couldn’t hold it back any longer. “You’re gonna, you’re gonna kill me aren’t you...” He let out a terrified shriek. “You’re going to kill me!”

“Oh, hell. Shut up. It’s not personal. Just part of the job, gotta keep bread on the table and all.”

“I can get you money!” The captive scrambled nervously, “I, I have a friend--a really rich, wealthy friend in the city— he’ll pay you however much you need. I know he will, I just need to get--”

“That’s good to know.” The larger man interrupted. Whumper roughly nudged the terrified man through the doorway, shoving him to the cold tile floor. “Come on, Whumpee.”

“Wait! Wait wait wait, wait a minute just wait--” He hyperventilated as he was urged forward. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode. He fell to his knees.

Whumper sighed, hooking the frantic man under the shoulder and launching him deeper into the room. He pulled the large iron door closed, secured the heavy latch, and pulled his black latex gloves up.

“D-do-don’t do this to m-m-me.”

Whumper sighed again. Begging grated his nerves more than anything. He’d listened to each of them recite the identical lines countless times, offering up drugs, money, sex— anything in exchange for their freedom. For some reason he’d hoped it would be different with Whumpee. He was such an obedient captive, and Whumper treated him like goddamned royalty. He thought he would approach the table and offer himself up willingly.

But no, Whumpee was performing an identical version of the same pleas for mercy as the rest of them. It was boring, and frankly, a little depressing.

“Stop it.” Whumper warned. “Get up.”

The shivering man stood.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Wh-wha? Why??”

“Aghhhh! Just take off your fuckin’ clothes!” Whumper sighed.

The boy shifted awkwardly on his feet, holding out hope that this sick routine was only a prelude to one of Whumper’s sick jokes. Surely this was the punchline. He’d already accomplished his goal of scaring the shit out of Whumpee. Surely it was over. Surely he’d end things here.

“Now.”

Whumpee’s fingers fumbled to find the hem of his filthy, formerly blue t-shirt, his arms weakly lifted the thin fabric over his head to reveal his ashen torso. It was the only barrier he had between his body and Whumper’s scalpel. The shirt fell to the floor.

Whumper took in the sight of Whumpee’s nearly perfect complexion. His skin was creamy white from the lack of sun exposure, pale folks were rare to stumble across in the desert wasteland. He was a slim man, athletic and lean, he bore no telltale signs of abuse. Whumper provided him with two mostly edible meals a day, clean clothes and the occasional hot shower.

“Go on. Take off all of it.”

The small man's cheeks burned with shame. Whumper’s hungry eyes shone with intrigue.

Whumpee laced his fingers around the elastic band of his pants clinging to his narrow hips. In one quick motion he dropped his pants and boxers down his legs, his hands swiftly rushed to cup his exposed genitals.

“How modest.” Whumper chuckled. Let him hide, Whumper thought. He’d have nothing to hide behind once he splayed his lean body across the table.

“Aight, now come here and open up.” Whumper produced a ball gag from his pocket.

Whumpee’s body quaked from a pang of terror so violent it threw his body off balance. A warm sensation trickled down the inside of his thigh.

Whumpee looked down at the pool of warmth he was standing in, and--fuck, oh fuck-- he’d pissed himself.

“For fuck’s sake, Whumpee. The hell is wrong with you today?!”

Wide-eyed and cowering, Whumpee collapsed to the floor and scrambled backwards. “I’msorryimsorryimso so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--!” He stammered frantically. “I didn’t mean--”

Whumper threw Whumpee’s discarded pants over the puddle of urine. Surprisingly, he tossed Whumpee’s shirt back to him.

“Hush. Clean yourself off.”

He cleared his throat and a few heavy tear drops plopped on the fabric in his lap. “I am sorry. I-I didn’t mean to do that.” He almost managed to say it without his voice quavering. He wiped the inside of his legs down using the filthy shirt and threw it aside. A powerful wave of numbness began supplanting his overwhelming terror.

“It’s okay, I’ve seen a lot worse.” A crooked smile returned to Whumper’s face. “Get over here. Right fuckin’ now.”

Whumpee swallowed his pride. His fear. His will to live. And he faced his fate head on.

“Good. Climb on the table.”

Whumpee got on the table.

Whumper secured his prey by locking his wrists and ankles to the operating table with a short length of chain. This was it. There was no going back now. Whumper looked down at Whumpee with ravenous eyes. He had him where he wanted him, after all of these months, finally.

He pulled on his surgical mask, rolled up his sleeves, and adjusted the light above his victim. A gloved index finger traced down the length of Whumpee’s bare body, imitating the blade's path. He truly had magnificent skin.

Before Whumper managed to make his first cut, his cellphone rang.

“You couldn’t have called at a worse time, you sonuvabitch. Call later. He’s on the table right now.” Whumper barked into the phone.

-Pause. Whumpee faintly heard the person on the line chuckle.-

“No shit? Who?”

-A longer pause.-

“I dunno. It sounds like one hell of a deal. Don't worry, this one's not goin' anywhere. Run it past the boss and get back to me. ”

-Pause-

"Heh, I should really kick your ass for this one," Whumper said wryly. "I've been nursing the best pair of virgin kidneys and liver you've ever fuckin' seen."

-Pause-

"Mhm. Roger that. Bye." Whumper tucked his phone in his pocket and pulled his surgical mask down.

“Whumpee. Your wealthy friend in the city--”

Whumper rested the scalpel on Whumpee’s stomach.

“--is his name Caretaker?”

#Whumpay #whump writing #whumpblr #whump #whumpay2024 #medical whump #whumpay day 1 #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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jo-harrington · 1 year

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Hell - Vampire!Eddie Munson

Summary: Vecna, weak and wounded after the events of March 27th 1986, seeks to enact revenge on those who foiled his plans. And his key to such revenge? A boy left behind, barely clinging to life.

Warnings/Themes: Angst, Violence, Kas!Eddie/Vamp!Eddie, Vecna Lives, Body Horror, Blood, Physical and Psychological Torture, Manipulation, Brainwashing, Necromancy, Loss of Soul, Transformation, Major Character Death and Rebirth, Other Biblical and Literary References

Note: So…welcome to my take on Vampire/Kas!Eddie. This fic, entitled Hell, can be read as a stand-alone, but is essentially going to be one of three companion prequels to a Vamp!Eddie AU fic I have in the works. I want to finish FF and get a few more chapters of Store Manager Verse published before I really start working on this idea…but with tomorrow being the “anniversary” of Eddie Munson’s “death” in the Upside Down, it only seems poetic to explore this first.

That being said, this fic and the subsequent fics/chapters in the series will not be for the faint of heart. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find the As Above, So Below masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"And I looked, and beheld a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him."

—Revelation 6:8

In the beginning, there was pain.

Enough pain that it should have been The End.

Eddie believed the pain meant The End.

But he had never been so lucky to experience the end of any suffering before, so he should have known better.

He couldn't recall the moment Dustin's hands were wrenched away from his body, leaving him floating in the darkness. Or the way his body felt before the teeth ripped into him. Or the act of kindness that led him to this horrible punishment.

The road to Hell was paved with good intentions. It vaguely echoed in the back of his mind, taunting him.

And in some way, Eddie Munson always knew he was going to Hell.

Just not like this.

First it seized his body and paralyzed him, as acrid tendrils poisoned his veins and his heart and his mind; he briefly recalled reading about Komodo Dragons in 5th grade. The way they ripped into their prey and let the venom work slowly and painfully to overtake them before the feast could begin.

He would not be a feast for the creatures of this realm but for their Master. Repentance for their failed tasks. They would not feed again until he did, wouldn't taste power until his was regained.

And feed is exactly what Vecna did.

The tendrils carded through Eddie's memories and poisoned them: his hopes and fears, everything and everyone he loved and held dear. His joy and indifference and hatred.

They decimated everything good; ripped them up from the roots and salted the ground below them, only leaving unrecognizable scraps behind. Then they latched onto the bad with no intention of ever letting go. Suckled on his sorrow and his hatred gluttonously.

Vecna especially liked to graze on the pain though; those morsels were most succulent and came in abundance. It was never enough, though; in the howling silence, even more pain was willed into existence.

You are alone. They are at fault. They tricked you. Sacrificed you.

Eddie never had a reason to let the pain weigh on his heart before, but his tormentor would see that rectified. He would break him down...

They left you behind. Left you to this fate. Left you to me. To do with you what I please.

...Until he no longer felt anymore.

And do to you I shall...

After eternity had passed, Eddie's body was unceremoniously dragged across the barren, uneven earth of the Upside Down. He watched the chilling, sizzling, flashing of the unfamiliar sky as he was transported for miles and miles, ad infinitum.

Until a threshold was crossed, and he entered the next circle of unending torture.

His carcass was rent into unnatural shapes, bones cracked, the marrow scraped out. Skin was flayed, flesh split open, until his barely-beating heart was on display and blood splashed weakly onto the over-saturated ground.

His eyes though...remained.

For some reason, Vecna wanted him to see.

The eyes are the windows to the soul, after all.

So he let Eddie stare at the rest of his collection—an unfinished one, but an impressive one nonetheless. He let Eddie stare at the looming pillars; at the empty sockets and gaping maws. At twisted husks that would never truly be filled again.

Because he wanted Eddie to choose to lose his soul. Wanted him to sell it. To trade it for salvation, lest he end up like the others.

It was almost disappointing at how short a time it took...

It was only a day—a day of staring at Chrissy and Fred and Patrick—before he wailed so wildly and begged so loudly that his jaw unhinged and every part of him truly became broken.

And at that moment, everything Eddie Munson was or had been or could ever hope to be no longer belonged to him. He was ripped apart both literally and figuratively. Whatever damage the bats had instinct to cause, it was but a mere drop in the sea of carnage that their Master endeavored to create.

He could sense the creatures around him, sense their anticipation to frenzy. Whether that was to fight or to feed, only time would tell.

They had worked tirelessly to stitch him back together. Followed their Master's instructions. Some were sacrificed to the cause: their bodies freely given, because their minds would remain.

Part of the greater whole.

He would never be considered whole anymore, but he was possible more than whole; the extra pieces sustained what would have perished due to the crucial part of him that was missing.

"Rise," a groaning, creaking voice sounded and all went silent. As all the creatures of the Upside Down witnessed the completion of a wicked metamorphosis.

The product of their collective toil began to writhe and twitch as it was reborn.

Resurrected.

"Rise," Henry repeated, "and become what you were always meant to be."

And in a realm full of monsters, the thing that rose was truly monstrous.

Leathery wings. Rows of teeth, too many to fit so they left his jaw unnaturally wide. Talons that could rip. Eyes that could cut through any sort of darkness.

He wouldn't bow. His Master remade him so he would never bow. But he still knew his place.

This gift he was given could easily be taken away. He wouldn't squander it.

He made a vow. A promise.

He would serve.

But he made a promise before, he recalled.

A promise not to be a hero.

And as a consequence of breaking that promise, he could never be one again.

Eddie always knew he was going to Hell.

He simply never thought he would become the Prince of it.

“You are privy to a great Becoming and you recognize nothing. You are an ant in the after-birth. It is in your nature to do one thing correctly: before Me you rightly tremble. Fear is not what you owe Me[.] You owe Me awe.”

—Thomas Harris, Red Dragon (1980)

#Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson angst #Eddie munson horror #Eddie munson stranger things #vampire!eddie #kas!eddie #stranger things fic #As Above So Below

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mimissubway · 1 year

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When the days go by

pairing: scaramouche x (gn) reader tw: bit of swearing, scara is mean, you're a masochist, a bit of making out, scara is a blushing tomato, they're high school kids so they are a bit awkward and unpredictable tags: highschool au, modern au word count: 636

author's note: this is my first ever time writing on tumblr ( i used to be a wattpad kid lol ) and I haven't wrote in awhile so please bare with me. Head full of scara

Scaramouche likes to think that he's better than all his classmates and that's why he doesn't talk to them. It's totally not because of that mean grin he constantly wears around the school. Of course with his looks, all the girls fall for his devilishly handsome face but with his mean personality he was only a handsome face and nothing more.

That was until you came to the school. On the first day, you saw his mean glare starring dead into your soul, but that didn't stop you. In fact, it made you more attracted to him. You're a weird one, and not weird in the good way. Your masochistic ass eats up that kind of shit up. A handsome man, with an attitude that can make you cry? You've definitely hit the jackpot! Yeah it might be weird to want someone to be mean to you but you can't help your feelings.

So you could find Scaramouche's surprise when his mean glare didn't back you off but rather made you start talking to him. He was weirded out by it but he guessed that it didn't hurt him to get to know his new classmate.

It didn't take you long until you started to develop actual feelings for him. You learned that he isn't actually that mean after all. I mean sure, he insults your whole bloodline on a daily basis but you like it, and you know that he doesn't really mean it. (Half of the time)

"Can you stop gawking at me?"

He asked of you nicely which was surprising since you were practically staring into his lavender orbs for no particular reason except for checking him out. (but he's too dense to know that)

"Hehe...sorry!"

You giggle before turning away to look at your biology textbook.

" Why do you always stare at me?"

"it's cause you're handsome."

Scaramouche has never blushed so hard until then, his entire face turned a sunset pink.

"Shut up, wrench"

He covers his face while you laugh at his tomato red face, even though he has a tough exterior he's actually a softy in the inside. It's usually not like you to be this flirty but the sudden confidence from his blushing made you take it to the next level.

"Scara..."

You looked at his face which still had a tint of pink.

"What do you want?"

He says it in a harsh tone.

"What would happen if we were to date.."

"Well, my personality won't change but I will treat you well in my own way, I guess.”

You were expecting him to tease you but the genuine response caught you off guard.

"Why do you want to date me?"

He says it jokingly but you took it seriously.

"Well actually yeah... I do."

His face went all red again and he looked away from you hoping that you couldn't see how red his face was but unfortunately for him you already did and had the biggest smile on your face.

"A-As if I would want to date you."

He tries to tease you again but it came off so horribly shy that it just made you laugh. Feeling bold you wanted to do the unspeakable.

"Hey look at me!"

When Scaramouche looked into your eyes, you leaned in for a quick peck. Your first kiss! His entire face went a darker shade of red but instead of scolding you for doing something as bold as kissing him, he grabbed your chin and pulled it towards him for other kiss.

The kiss was slowly turning into a make out session until it was interrupted by a teacher walking by. You and Scaramouche got reprimanded for indecent behavior on school grounds but the both of you didn't care.

It was all worth it, even for one kiss

#scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader

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broadwayfangirl222 · 2 months

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Alastor and Power

This isn't gonna bit more rambly but I wanted to share my thoughts anyway: I've been thinking about Alastor and his motivation and stuff and the comment Vivziepop and the crew said this comment about him not really caring about power itself. Now obviously that could've been changed in production and he's power hungry now but I'm not so sure. Yes even with the "Guess who'll pulling all the strings!!!!" or "Filled with potential I could guide" lines. I think Alastor is less interested in power and more interested in control. It's a subtle difference but there is one. Like what he tells Charlie about smiles is about maintaining control, or at least maintaining the illusion of control, no matter what situation you're in

Even when Alastor is on the verge of dying in his fight against Adam he refuses to drop the smile/illusion of control

His hatred for Lucifer could be less about him not being the most powerful in the room and more Lucifer being there throws a wrench in his plan (also maybe unintentionally bringing up his own father issues) and potentially making him redundant if he did finally start stepping up and helping with the hotel. Since if it was over power he'd have issues with Charlie too, and other overlords even, if those with more power make him feel threatened.

Him wanting to guide Charlie and her being his ally would be him having the actual control even if he objectively isn't the one in an actual position of power. I've actually seen posts pointing out when he's dressed up in different outfits they're always these more servile, "lesser" positions/roles/jobs than the "main" ones like priest or chef and pretty much how he'd rather being in these kinds of roles since in an odd way there's more freedom, less responsibility/accountability compared to their counterparts (i can't find them though):

Alastor in general despises not being in control or not having all the answers or at least voice in a situation and I think people tend to mistake it for him being power hungry. If he cares about power at all it's merely a way to maintain control. A needed tool than say something he actively wants. I feel he'd pick being able to have to total control of his life vs ultimate power but still having to answer to someone in a heartbeat. His own autonomy and never letting someone else have more control of a situation than him just seems to be a very big part of his story. Him in a soul contract is the biggest thing that has affected him the most. Even down how he's dressed and presents himself is control. Alastor is canonically the name he had when he was alive and still is fully dedicated to the era he was alive. He's not a fan of change at all.

I'm even wondering if this even stems from his fanon/implied backstory of his where his dad being this horribly abusive asshole or whatever potential trauma he had both in life, before he became an overlord or whoever he made a deal with. Husks copes with drinking, Angel copes through sex & drugs and Alastor copes by needing to be the one "pulling all the strings" and having absolute iron clad control over everything and everyone in his life.

#hazbin hotel #meta #idk #shut up me #ramblings

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thebibliomancer · 3 months

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Essential Avengers: Avengers West Coast #52: FRAGMENTS of a GREATER DARKNESS

December, 1989

Master Pandemonium reveals the untold secrets of his origin and -- the shocking truth about the Scarlet Witch's children!

Buddy, neither of those secrets will make you look less ridiculous with the lopsided, partially filled in pentagram hole in your tum tum or your ridiculous baby hands.

And I think John Byrne realized that the baby hands didn't quite have the impact he was hoping for because he makes them more grotesque imps on the cover but still look like babies attached to this man's hands in the inside art.

Mistakes have been made but stubbornly we preserve even when we shouldn't.

Speaking of mistakes: a little note to myself. I really should have done this issue to finish up the baby hands saga, then done Atlantis Attacks, then Avengers 311, then Avengers West Coast 53, then Avengers 312.

Sorry. Byrne writing both books means they're vaguely more interconnected than ever and then you have back to back company-wide events. I got mixed up.

And yeah, Wanda goes right from all of this baby hands stuff to being kidnapped and engaged to a snake elder god and then right into Acts of Vengeance. She's having a really bad life.

So last times in Avengers West Coast: Vision disassembled by the government. Put back together but loses his emotions. Wanda tricked by Texas college and pumped full of evil ooze that makes her racist. Later, she brings the robot Human Torch back to life in a fit of pique. Demons attack the Avengers West Coast Compound and while she's fighting Master Pandemonium, her babies get kidnapped. Her teammates don't seem to care but eventually agree to go with her to rescue them. When the Avengers track down Master Pandemonium, they see that he's jammed Wanda's babies onto his arms to be his hands.

The last time summary basically reads as 'shit keeps happening to specifically Wanda.'

This is supposed to be horrific. The previous page describes it as "a heart-wrenching tale of ultimate tragedy" but I am incapable of taking this seriously.

This man -- who was already kind of ridiculous as a character -- jammed babies onto his elbows and declared it makes him unbeatable.

This is his master plan. He is so proud of his accomplishment.

... Is he just going to use tiny baby hands for all manual dexterity tasks from now on? Is he going to pick up a sandwich with their tiny hands and bring it up to his mouth to eat? Is he going to hold a toothbrush with a baby hand and then brush his teeth? Actually, all hygiene tasks are going to be awkward and horrible like this.

THIS IS WORSE IN EVERY WAY THAN JUST HAVING NORMAL HANDS.

Wonder Man cautions that they'll need to be careful fighting Master Pandemonium since he has Tommy and Billy as human shields but Master Pandemonium laughs that Tommy and Billy can't be harmed because they're part of him and he's unbeatable.

Then he makes Tommy hand shoot demonfire with his tinier hands.

Don't try to make me like this through sheer ridiculousness, John.

Iron Man tries blasting Master Pandemonium with a strong enough repulsor blast to destroy an office block but the guy no sells it.

Master P explains he just wanted to use the baby souls to replace what was missing from his (and he chose these specific babies because?) but coincidentally they happened to be two of his missing soul pieces!

Ain't that a lucky break for specifically Master P!

Anyway, he does the thing he does and shoots dozens of demons out of his arms. And guess what? The demons are buffed compared to before because they benefit from him getting 2/5s of his soul back!

Sure, okay.

US Agent orders the Avengers to leap into action and Wasp thinks he sounded almost as impressive as Captain America there.

All he said was "Well, don't just stand there gaping! Demons they may be... but we're Avengers! Lets show 'em what that means!"

You're too easily impressed, Wasp.

Anyway, she shoots at a demon with her Wasp's Sting but the demon explodes into a hundred smaller demons. So Dr Pym pulls out a needle gun and shoots hundreds of needles to shred the wings of the hundred demons.

Damn, Pym. Brutal.

Vision strolls through the horde of demons, confident that his intangibility makes him untouchable.

Then a demon breaks his neck.

Damn. That'd be brutal if it wasn't Vision and if Wonder Man didn't explicitly state in the next panel that Vision can recover from that.

Wonder Man manages to make his way through the demons with less neck breaking than Vision and tackles Master Pandemonium.

He tries to pin Master P's arms at his side so he can't use Billy and Tommy to cast spells but one of the baby hands twists out of his grasp and bites his entire head.

Back on Earth, the Robot Human Torch flies above the Avengers West Coast Compound.

This is. A weird trend, actually. The issue after he was revived, I think he was introduced flying above the Compound and then landing. When he appears in Atlantis Attacks, he's flying above the Compound and then landing.

Is this stock footage?

But in this instance, he was making sure there were no more demons left. He also sees a weird tiny cat dashing into the bushes when he lands but he dismisses it as something to ask about later.

... Did Tigra get out? Dammit, Hank!

Jim Hammond, Robot Human Torch, heads back inside and sees that Agatha Harkness is just staring off at nothing.

So he decides to recap Master Pandemonium's whole deal to Ann Raymond, since she's around and doesn't already know.

You know the deal. Martin Preston (who has the same initials as Master Pandemonium? Wow) was a devil worshiping movie executive (retcon from being an actor) who drunk drove his way into a bad accident that cost his arm. He called for demons or whatever to save him so Mephisto appeared and replaced all of his limbs with demons. For laughs. He also took Martin's soul, ripped it into five and scattered them around the universe. Also for laughs.

Jim Hammond's recap calls the star-shaped hole in Master P's tum tum a "star-shaped scar" and bullshit. That is a whole. It has a suggestion of depth. It was a fight choreography detail that Wonder Man punched through the hole when he was trying to deck Master P.

It's not a scar, John. It's a star-shaped hole in his tum tum. GOD.

Anyway. Ann Raymond says cool story but what the fuck does this have to do with anything? Why is he kidnapping babies?

Agatha Harkness rouses from her weird trance to deliver some retcon exposition.

Remember when Vision dry-humped babies into Wanda because she was channeling a ludicrous amount of magic through her and through magic all things are possible, including spontaneous pregnancy?

Fuck you. Only god can create life.

(It is so fucking weird for Agatha Harkness of all people to say that only god can create life. She's been burned at the stake. Multiple times.)

Anyway, Agatha says that all along, Wanda's babies were "manifestations of Wanda's will. One small step beyond illusion."

How come Dr Strange never noticed if he oversaw the birth?

Stop asking Agatha Harkness questions. She has stuff to do.

To get Jim to shut up with his concerns about the Avengers, she reassures him that she has her cat familiar keeping an eye on them so she'll definitely know if they need help.

Cue the montage of the Avengers needing all the help.

Let's see. Hank has been grabbed by the ghoulies. Wasp is being eaten by a Murloc. US Agent is... blobbed? Iron Man is being bear hugged by an electric vantablack thingie. Scarlet Witch is holding hands with a horrible troll (because she needs to gesture to do stuff). And Wonder Man is being eaten by the baby hand.

Which still looks ridiculous.

Hm. But that might solve the question of how Master Pandemonium is going to eat with toddlers for hands. Maybe he can just eat through them.

Master Pandemonium decides that since absorbing some babies worked out so well, he's going to power up his baby hands by feeding them Wanda's soul.

He's just doing whatever pops into his head.

Dr Pym interrupts and tells Master Pandemonium that there's a huge inconsistency with his story. He says that Tommy and Billy are two of his missing soul pieces but then how come they were born before Master P met Mephisto?

Which... I guess is a date that Hank knows?

Because someone always has to be spying on the Avengers and Immortus already said he can't for this story, Mephisto is spying on things play out. From his throne of agony.

Mephisto smirks to himself that Master Pandemonium has no idea what's really going on.

SO HERE'S THE REAL STORY.

Narrated by Mephisto to No One In Particular.

So, Franklin blew up Mephisto once, back in Fantastic Four #277. I have no idea why the Fantastic Four were fighting A Devil. But Mephisto was eventually able to mostly recombobulate himself.

But missing five pieces of his essence.

(Do you see where this is going?)

Him jamming demons on Martin Preston's limbs and making a star-shaped hole in his tum tum wasn't just for laughs. It was to trick specifically this dude and only this dude no other dudes into searching for the missing Mephisto pieces while thinking it was his own missing soul.

In fact, Martin never lost his soul at all.

Master Pandemonium reacts badly to the news (from Hank, he can't hear Mephisto). He accuses Hank and Wanda of lying.

Anyway, then a portal opens and Jim Hammond the Robot Human Torch strolls out with the last two missing pieces of Master Pandemonium's soul but actually of Mephisto. And he promises to just give them to the dude if he promises the Avengers will be released unharmed.

Master Pandemonium agrees but as soon as Jim hands over the glowy things, he reneges.

Master Pandemonium: "With my soul fully restored, I need not be bound by the promises I give mere mortals! By turning the fragments over to me, you have signed your own death warrant!"

But when he places the last "soul pieces" there's still a piece missing. The center of the star.

And Master Pandemonium gets sucked into that hole.

Somehow.

In fact everything gets sucked into the pentagon shaped hole in his tum tum. The lair, the demons, everything but the Avengers. Leaving them in a blank void.

With Mephisto.

He tells everyone that all the soul pieces - including Billy and Tommy - have been restored to their proper place, ie Mephisto.

Then Agatha's cat digivolves into a bigger, scarier cat and everybody stands around narrating action that's just off-panel.

It is literally that scene from Gravity Falls.

John Byrne is a good comic artist.

Agatha Harkness contacts Wanda MAGICALLY. Wanda frets that Mephisto is going to destroy Ebony but Agatha dismisses her worries because Eboy is made of stronger stuff.

But this is all just a diversion, to buy time for Wanda to resolve this plot.

Agatha commands Wanda to open her mind and soul to her and then I guess something happens.

Something sure happens.

And everybody is back at the Avengers West Coast compound. With Mephisto defeated? Gone? Gotten bored and wandered off? Like, he only showed up two pages ago and he wasn't even starting shit. Ebony started shit.

This isn't a great victory against the devil. This was Agatha slamming the 'end story' button.

It's time for Agatha to Explain It All.

You see, by absorbing Billy and Tommy, Mephisto left a weak point in his defenses because the kids were still tied to Wanda by the spell she used to create them.

AND THEN AGATHA GAVE WANDA MAGICAL AMNESIA ERASING HER MEMORY OF BILLY AND TOMMY

And this, for magic reasons, caused the devil to poof. For a little bit.

Agatha says that Billy and Tommy were never real. Just a hysterical pregnancy that was magically amplified and snagged two of the missing Mephisto pieces as a basis to make imaginary babies out of.

Wasp points out how fucked up it is that Wanda is going to wake up and learn that her babies are forever gone because they were the devil but, see, the amnesia takes care of that.

No pesky questions about missing children or crying over missing children or going on fruitless quests for missing children.

US Agent points out how fucked up it is to make a mother forget her children and Agatha says she's basically a mother figure to Wanda so she knows best.

I don't like this story in all kinds of ways.

Even if I only hated the plot and character direction, the art on this issue is bad. And lazy. Hiding an entire devil vs cat fight scene off-panel and having talking heads just tell us how it's going? For shame.

The action was lackluster. Having the entire team just get rocked by Master Pandemonium instead of being able to put up a fight like previous times.

And it was less interested in telling a good story than undoing previous stories.

The issue ends with a tease of Atlantis Attacks, so Wanda is going to have a terrible time immediately after having a terrible time immediately after having a terrible time immediately after having a terrible time.

Either John Byrne doesn't like Wanda or he's the kind of guy who breaks the things he likes.

I already covered Atlantis Attacks, whoops, so next week more Avengers West Coast as Wanda has a terrible time in Acts of Vengeance.

Follow @essential-avengers to psychically send Wanda Maximoff well wishes and maybe a beverage of choice. Like and reblog to make me happy.

#avengers #essential avengers #west coast avengers #Master Pandemonium #Mephisto #Agatha Harkness #scarlet witch #wonder man #iron man #US Agent #the Wasp #hank pym #dr pym #the vision #robot Human Torch #tigra #teeny little tigra #gratuitous Atlantis Attacks mention #this was bad but at least it's behind me now

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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the-gateway-to-madness · 8 months

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why i did not enjoy rise of the titans, personally

In writing, there's this idea that in order for a story to be meaningful, sacrifice needs to carry weight with it. This can be because of the lead-up making it hit harder. This can be because of the irreversability. But losses of any kind should be treated with dignity, with consideration, with pause where it can be afforded- and if not, pause should be taken later.

Tales of Arcadia traditionally does this either Really Well or just Well.

In Trollhunters:

-Draal sacrifices himself as a culmination of his arc of becoming Jim's friend, equal, protector, and confidante. It's incredibly well planned out. You can feel Gunmar's control looming over Draal's head when they're in Merlin's tomb, can feel the uncertainty of the moment, and Draal's death is simultaneously heart-wrenching and, for him, a release- a parallel to his father's death, accepting his fate and plunging in almost the exact same way.

-Vendel's death is shortly preceded by his clear acceptance of Jim as the Trollhunter and his determination to fight for him. It's a moment that makes it immensely obvious how much Vendel has been changed by Jim's genuinely good nature. And in death, he warns them and stands up for them one last time, making the moment even more bittersweet, as tinged as it is by the horror of Usurna.

-Angor Rot has the classic death-redemption, but he's not treated as weak. It's a genuine, earned, heroic moment. And the bitter sting of Morgana not going down with him turns the audience on her even more.

In 3Below:

-Krel connecting with Buster in Season 2 only for Buster to be ruthlessly felled by Morando adds a depth of hatred for him immensely effectively. It's a Kill the Dog moment done horribly, painfully right.

-The second loss of the parents cements Aja and Krel's sacrifice. The parents surviving would be a death for the sake of family, for the sake of Aja and Krel being able to cling to their childhoods another moment, even as they lay down their lives for everyone else. The parents dying is the more intelligent move monarchy-wise- preserving the heirs, and story-wise it forces both Aja and Krel to face the reality that they were never kids, but royals. That is the sacrifice they make- not dying, but living the way their planet needs them to.

In Wizards:

-They had us connecting to Douxie so hard in the span of like 9 episodes that all of us cried over Merlin for a second just because of how it affected Douxie. This is probably the best written death in the series, just because of the fact that the mourning is the most indirect and just as effective.

-Morgana sacrificing herself to stop the Green Knight after realizing she's irreparably damaged her own cause just. yeah

But in Rise of the Titans, the deaths feel rushed. Obligatory. Instead of cutting your soul they're just sucker-punching you. They're trying to force the stakes up, but they do so very poorly.

And worst of all, the ending takes away the significance of every sacrifice in the entire series. The writers threw in so many unnecessary stakes-raiser deaths that they couldn't fix their own timeline and had to go and try to ruin the weight of the trilogy.

And that's just not okay. That's mocking the emotional investment the audience put into the trilogy.

So anyway. What movie? There's not a Tales of Arcadia movie. It doesn't exist thanks.

#tales of arcadia #toa wizards #toa trollhunters #toa 3below #writeblr #writing errors

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spirit-of-a-kiger · 1 year

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So, recently, Gooseworx made a tweet that basically changed everything I thought about Caine. She revealed that he’s actually more oblivious than evil. Not gonna lie, that really throws a wrench into some of my theories, but I realized that it goes pretty well with one theory/observation I had: that he is an awful listener.

After watching the trailer a million times over, I noticed that he kind of talks over Pomni the whole time. To be fair, her voice is pretty quiet when she’s just confused, but even when she starts screeching at the top of her lungs and begs him to stop or at least give her a sec to mentally prepare for it, he just casually says above her screams “Don’t worry, my dear! You won’t even die horribly!” In other words, whenever she talks or otherwise reacts to what he’s doing, he just bulldozes on through like he barely hears her.

So, I think that would make the obliviousness problem worse and much harder to solve. After all, you can’t learn if you don’t listen. The human souls (if they even figure out that he’s oblivious in the first place since they would almost certainly assume that the literal torture is coming from a place of malice) would have to figure out some way to get him to slow down for a second and hear them out.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc

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misslavenderlady · 1 year

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Thought is asked based on the horrible question number 57

57: Do you believe in true love?

I do. I found it myself. 💜

So I'll go ahead and use this opportunity to tell the story about how I met my fiance.

We actually met on Cherubplay, a writing forum for those of us in the Homestuck fandom (yes I was a Homestuck fan don't judge me). I posted a writing prompt that I really liked and someone answered it. The two of us had very compatible writing styles and ideas to share with one another. Since we hit it off so well we exchanged Tumblr and Skype usernames so we could talk more.

The two of us developed a really good friendship, talking over video call and in messages. After a couple of months I realized I was developing a crush on him, but didn't really know what to do with my feelings. Then one day I got lost on my way home from work, and I was really scared because of how dark it was outside (we were both only 17 at the time). He comforted me and let me know I wasn't alone and when I finally got home, he made sure I felt safe.

That's when I realized I was falling in love.

I didn't want to say I loved him more than as a friend because I didn't know if he felt the same way. But the day after his birthday, we ended up flirting a bit, and I outright asked if he liked me. Turns out he did and he was worried about saying anything because he thought I didn't feel the same way. So it was a big misunderstanding lol.

We jumped right into being boyfriend and girlfriend. It would be hard since I lived in Maryland and he lived in New Jersey. I'd never been in a relationship before, let alone a long-distance one. But I was optimistic.

The two of us met in person a few months later. We were in NYC to see the Rockettes, and I was chaperoned by my family in public for safety. Getting to hug and kiss and hold him for the first time was pure magic. That whole day was perfect.

After that, we ended up doing visits every 3-4 months. He was my date for my senior prom, I got to meet and befriend his friends in New Jersey, we went on beach vacations, went to museums, got to get to know our families better, and so much more. He was my biggest supporter as I studied for my degrees in college. He was there for me at my graduation too.

I had hoped we'd move in together soon after that, but Covid threw a wrench into things. He was working in a hospital at the time, so he got it right away. I was scared to death because nobody knew anything about it or the danger is posed. Thankfully, his symptoms were minor and he made a fast recovery.

By 2021 we FINALLY moved in together. It's been incredible. I get to see him every day, we get to go on adventures and have fun together whenever we want. And we both work hard to provide for my family. I'm incredibly grateful for the work he's done to help my family, as my mother is disabled and my grandparents can't work like they used to. He's such a kind-hearted man and has such a loving soul.

On 2-22-22, he proposed to me. I obviously said yes. He picked that date because it was a special good luck day from all the 2s. We're moving into our first house together next year.

So yes, I believe in true love. Not just romantically though. My partner shows true love when he picks up a special treat that he knows I like. It's how he helps make sure my mom gets her medicine. How he helps my grandfather move heavy furniture with no issue. He's kind to everyone, brightening up their day with his amazing smile and personality. He gives me big belly laughs with all the silly things he says. We write together and help one another with our stories so we can grow together as a team. And his hugs remind me that I'm loved so very much.

I believe in true love 💜💜💜

#Sorry to get so sappy on you guys lol #ask me stuff #lavender lady rambles

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nectaric · 2 years

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@ichoric asked: this is all my fault. Zag n hades

zagreus’ cry would ring inside of hades’ head for the rest of his existence.

hecate’s spells and searching had worked, though not in the way they had anticipated. when hecate came bursting through his door, announcing she had found the creature, hades had momentarily been elated. only, they had not found the creature. it had found them.

no, not them.

zagreus.

the moments that followed were an absolute blur, drowned out by the kind of terror hades had known few times in his life. the kind of gut-wrenching, mind-numbing, life-altering fear that one could never truly wash away. how could one ever recover from reliving their worst nightmare?

he did not know how he got there, only that he was now standing in a clearing, his son forty yards away. sure enough, the beast, the giant, the monster who had taken his son away from him was there, but-- he was ensnared, tangled in the trees, no, ropes? hades could hardly make out the details, sprinting across the clearing. though trapped, the monster lunged out with his arm to strike at his son. zagreus cried out. he wasn’t going to make it, he wasn’t close enough, he--

hades lunged between them, taking the brunt of one of the giant’s flailing legs. he grunted in pain, stumbling backwards, but did not fall. what came next, hades knew he would never be proud of -- but every single horrific emotion he had ever felt, the anguish of losing his son, the years of misery that followed, the fear he had felt since his return -- all of it exploded in a torrent of unbridled rage.

the ground cracked and shifted, skeletal hands rising from the earth to claw at the snared giant, dragging him down. obelisks of obsidian burst through the dirt, impaling him, black monster blood coating the ground as the giant wailed. where stone pierced his flesh, crystals began to form rapidly across his body, encasing him, trapped behind a wall of stone.

his screams went silent as the last of his skin was covered -- and then the skeletal hands, the souls of the dead, dragged his still corpse beneath the earth, swallowing him up. the clearing went silent, and there was not a trace left of the giant but the blood that stained the ground.

hades whirled, staggering towards his son. the moment he reached zagreus, the king collapsed, clutching him so tightly he feared he might crush the boy. zagreus was the first to speak. this is all my fault. a low, guttural sob, something broken and horrible burst from hades’ mouth in response. “no. no this isn’t your fault. this could never be your fault. are you okay? you’re okay. you have to be okay.”

#ichoric #m: hades.#gore /#idk man #I'M UPSETTI #you can write zag's fight ofc :)))#and if you want hecate to be there as well

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dent-de-leon · 1 year

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Tiefling, goliath, eisfuura, cleric, sorcerer

Tiefling: who is your favorite female player

Ooh that's tough. I feel like I have to say Laura Bailey, because the way she plays her characters just makes me so emotional--there are just these moments when she made me cry, especially in C2. She was also one of the VA's I knew of before starting CR, so I was excited to see her play!

Goliath: who is your favorite campaign 1 character

AH this is so hard. I wanna say it's like a three way tie between Percy, Keyleth, and Vax. I love them all a lot. But I don't know, I think there's something I especially love about seeing Kiki now after how far she's come, and everything she's been through. I just have a lot of fondness for her and it makes me excited for more of TLOVM :')

Eisfuura: who is your favorite npc

This feels like cheating almost, because it's just so predictable for me, but--Lucien without question. I adore his wit and charm and dramatic villain monologues--which we now know are inspired by him literally being an actor, and I'll never get over that. He quotes his favorite lines sometimes. He's always looking to put on a show, to become part of something grand.

He's playful, and there are moments when you see a bit of vulnerability behind the mask. And even though he's the villain of the final arc, his character is just so tragic, it makes you still kind of want to root for him a little.

And seeing Matt play Lucien is very fun because it's like watching this eerie sort of mirror image of Taliesin's performance as Mollymauk. The little quirks and mannerisms inherited from Molly, the charm and showmanship and banter. A personality that's become warped, twisting Molly's dreams and desires into something darker. And yet, for every striking difference, there are ripples and echoes of the same Circus Man we know. It's really amazing to watch Matt act all of that out.

Even the way he does Lucien's laugh has this eerie echo of Molly to it that really does remind me of Taliesin. I think that's what makes his performance so appealing to me, that it's not just a character of Matt's--but a character that's almost like this collaboration between them.

Cleric: what is your favorite battle

Again, probably expected, but--that final fight with Lucien. I'm just so weak for stories like this. Where the final villain used to be someone beloved by the other characters before they were lost to them somehow. It makes the conflict so much more personal and just gets me so emotionally invested.

Narratively, thematically--there's just so much to love about this fight. The way Lucien and the Nein are able to manifest whatever they imagine in the Astral Sea through sheer will. The ever present, constant threat of the Nein slowly gaining more and more Eyes, the sense of urgency and finite time.

The whole mechanic where characters are rewarded for trying to reach back out to Molly!! Heartfelt pleas and gutting reminders, the Nein all holding out their hands to Molly. The fact that Jester and Caleb seem to be the ones most consistently able to get through to him, fighting hardest to free him--and then they're the ones Lucien goes after and kills, because to him they're the biggest threat, a representation of the thing he most fears.

That shard of Molly's soul still present, reacting so viscerally whenever his friends are hurt. The way the end of that fight is just so heart-wrenching and gutting and leaves me teary eyed. The perfect parallels to Jester's tarot reading. I'm still not over any of it.

Sorcerer: what is your favorite sam commercial skit

tHE ELDERMANCY COCKTAIL!! There's just. So much going on here. Watching the slow decent into utter chaos, everyone trying to stop him with each new horrible, terrible addition he pours in. The moment he takes that first sip. The horror. The regret.

The realization he just drank like 3 shots of absinthe in an espresso with yogurt. The fact that all this happens?? I believe?? In the episode where we were all horrified there'd be a TPK in that big fight with the Tombtakers?? Literally everything about this whole situation was so cursed I love it.

#hi!! :)

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kromlock · 1 year

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A transcript of my relationship with JK Rowling

Joanne: Hey kid, would you like a decent children’s book? It’s a little dark but it’s also a fun quirky story about a magic school.

Me: Oh hey, I like lots of those things! Hey, this is pretty good for the stuff that’s usually aimed at my age group!

Joanne: Yes, cool. Here’s a sequel. It’s foreshadowing some political intrigue and has a gut wrenching portrayal of the horrors of slavery, but I swear it’s still for kids.

Me: Oh wow, this is even better than the first! Hey, you’re a pretty good mystery writer too.

Joanne: Why, thank you! Now this next one gives Harry some deep backstory.

Me: Wow, I love this! You did a great job shattering the illusion that James was such a great guy!

Joanne: I beg your pardon?

Me: Well, I mean, you kind of outed James as the bully, and like even though it doesn’t excuse his behavior at all, Snape was right about Harry’s dad.

Joanne: ……huh.

Me: And I loved the disability rights theme so much I didn’t notice the part where the central character in the disability metaphor then turns his condition into a deadly liability in a boarding school. Or the skin crawling ideological implications of that.

Joanne: Hold on a second. I have to do something.

Me: What’s up?

Joanne: Just jotting down notes. Snape…. Was… Right….

Me: Well I didn’t mean it like THAT…

Joanne: Skin crawling… ideological…. Implications…. Okay, all done. By the way, here’s an extra long book!

Me: WHOA HOLY HELL does the shit hit the fan here! The bad guy’s back in action, the government is Fucking Horrible, and the Avengers are assembling. And that gleam of triumph in Dumbledore’s eye! I bet you’re going somewhere great with that! God I can’t wait to find out what happens next. It’s just… umm… a couple things.

Joanne: Yeah?

Me: Why did it have to be so long? And I like plot twists and all but this was just weird and convoluted.

Joanne: No, but you see, more is better.

Me: Huh. I guess I see your reasoning there. But another thing I just realized. This is a bad school.

Joanne: Excuse me?

Me: It’s a death trap and the faculty is incompetent.

Joanne: Dumbledore is a legendary sorcerer, philosopher, and warrior!

Me: But that doesn’t make him a good teacher! That’s a completely different skillset!

Joanne: And about the death trap! That’s because of Voldemort. He does evil things.

Me: Voldemort didn’t resurrect an ancient blood sport for children. The first event was throwing teenagers one by one into an arena with a pissed off dragon to just see what happens.

Joanne: They were all supposed to be of age, and the binding magic contract-

Me: They couldn’t just rewrite the contract? Do they have to use the exact same cursed artifact that they used thousands of years ago, with the only guard around it having easy exploits?

Joanne: ….

Me: Come to think of it, the other books were pretty fucked up too. It’s quicker to list the school years where someone doesn’t die on campus.

Joanne: I-

Me: And I don't mean "Old Professor Giddyfart passed away in his sleep last night. He was 239 years young." I mean "Our star pupil was murdered in cold blood by Wizard Hitler during our international child bloodsport tournament."

Joanne: Technically that was off-campus.

Me: "Last year our students almost had their souls stolen by undead horrors that were posted here -at a fucking school- because that’s a good idea. This was minutes after almost being mauled by our werewolf on staff."

Joanne: They were only there because they thought a convicted-

Me: "Oh, that was also the same day we had a former Nazi combatant come to lop off the head of a hippogriff who actually did maul another student for the dreadful crime of not paying attention in class.”

Joanne:

Me: "Oh and the year before it turned out we just kinda had a basilisk in the plumbing and it kept turning students to stone, it was really annoying, totally disrupted the curriculum”

Joanne: But that was because-

Me: "Oh and the year before that one of our teachers was possessed by the still-living shade of Wizard Hitler. He set a troll loose in the school to try and steal our Bring-Shades-Back-To-Life Macguffin. We just figured it was the safest place because our unhinged headmaster is fucking Hercules, Perseus, and Theseus rolled into one. He could've taken a sabbatical to guard it without putting children in harm’s way, but he's just that quirky!"

Joanne: Well, perhaps Dumbledore isn’t all perfect-

Me: "What's that? Oh yeah, it's guarded by goddamn Cerberus, and a series of challenges even more dangerous than goddamn Cerberus. But don't worry, we sealed the door with a spell that a first year student can unlock."

Joanne: What are you getting at?

Me: Where’s the lawsuits? Absolutely nothing was done to rein Dumbledore in. Well, except for once and it was the one time the danger wasn’t his fault and it was at the behest of the bad guys and swiftly overturned.

Joanne: Government regulation?

Me: And what the fuck was with that “Hermione is an idiot for being against slavery” thing? That made me feel icky.

Joanne: Well, I will be right back!

Me: Oh, okay.

Me: Maybe that was a bit rude. Every story has its flaws.

Me: ….

Me: Wow, Lord of the Rings is really good.

Joanne: Here’s book 5! Harry Potter and the Reason Government Regulation Is Bad

Me: Uh… this is quite a bit longer than the last one.

Joanne: Yes.

Me: The one that I thought was way longer than it had to be.

Joanne: Yes.

Me: And I just read it, and like nothing happened in it. You took the shortest story so far and padded it out with a weird political manifesto.

Joanne: More is bette-

Me: And it’s not even good politics! Anyone but the most Randian hardcore libertarian would want to do something when a school actively contributes to the death of a student.

Joanne: Yeah but the person doing it is juuuuuust a fucking cunt.

Me: I mean, yeah I have to admit she was a pretty good villain. Kinda overshadows Voldemort though, you should really step up the menace in your main antagonist because all he’s done so far is get his ass kicked by a bunch of high school students.

Joanne: Ohhhh just you wait. Okay I’ll be right back.

Me: Oh, okay.

Me: I think we really connected that time.

Me: …..

Me: Huh, Revenge of the Sith was pretty good actually.

Joanne: Okay, this one is all about Voldemort. Also I heard you like Lord of the Rings, so you’re in for some good stuff!

Me: Do tell!

Joanne: So the One Ring was cool right?

Me: Oh yeah, it’s menacing as hell.

Joanne: Well Voldemort made SEVEN One Rings! You can One Ringify any object in this universe.

Me: …please tell me you gave it a name other than One Ring.

Joanne: I sure did! It’s called a Horcrux.

Me: ….Horcrux.

Joanne: You got it!

Me: …….so you can turn anything into a One Ring?

Joanne: You bet! And that diary from book 2 was a One Ring.

Me: Hey that’s a pretty cool retcon.

Joanne: Or maybe… I had it planned all along.

Me: No you didn’t.

Joanne: And just you wait, I have a big twist on those things coming in the next-

Me: It’s that Harry’s scar is a One Ring.

Joanne: …

Me: What? It’s kind of obvious.

Joanne: ….anyway they’re being super careful to make the school safe now so YOU’RE WELCOME. Plot hole fixed.

Me: This book ends with a bunch of Wizard Nazis infiltrating the school, assassinating the headmaster, spray painting a Wizard Swastika in the sky, trashing the place, and just walking out. So yeah, pretty safe. You know what, screw it. The movies are pretty good so I’ve tricked myself into still liking this shit. Hey, if you keep up your writing pace then Harry’s gonna graduate the same year I do! You gonna have the grand finale out in time?

Joanne: I sure am! Here it is, it’s more than worth the wait.

Me: WHOA now this is more like it! The last book was kind of a mess, but this? I love the dystopian setting and the breaking of the formula, and the moral complexity of Dumbledore, and you even managed to do some cool stuff with that Horcrux shit. And ohhh, the schoolgrounds are an actual castle so of course that’s where the final battle takes place, and it’s still fucked up that this is a school but that’s also pretty cool. And here’s the final confrontation, aaaaand…..

Joanne: And? And?

Me: …..what the hell was that ending?

Joanne: Excuse me?

Me: The bad guy dies on a weird wand ownership technicality? Not a whisper about freeing the slaves or undoing any of the other heinous shit the government does and permits? Harry names his son after the greasy incel who blew it with his mom when he shouted slurs at her and never got over it?

Joanne: Severus is a tragic figure who never stopped caring about the woman he loved!

Me: He held on to a creepy obsession with the idea of her while devoting his professional life to tormenting her surviving loved ones.

Joanne: He had to keep up appearances to fool Voldemort.

Me: He tried to poison a sensitive awkward child’s pet in front of his class, just because he could! Well before he was a blip on Voldemort’s radar! You know what, the movies have been doing a pretty good job cleaning up this mess so far, so I guess your job’s done. Oh, one more thing. I still don’t know what the hell was up with that gleam of triumph in Dumbledore’s eye?

Joanne: Oh, that’s a thing to do with his blood and Lily’s protection and the power of love and-

Me: You didn’t have anything planned, got it.

Joanne: Well, I never! I bid you farewell! And by the way, you were wrong! Harry’s scar wasn’t a One Ring! Harry’s SOUL was a One Ring!

Me: …okay, bye

Me: Say, the movies really did clean up that bullshit. You know, I think the series was pretty good after all.

Me: ……

Me: Well the new God of War was a pleasant surprise-

Joanne: BACK BEFORE PLUMBING WIZARDS SHIT THEMSELVES!

Me: Uh, what?

Joanne: THE AMERICAN TERM FOR MUGGLE IS “NO-MAJ”

Me: Is this a troll account?

Joanne: DID I MENTION TRANS PEOPLE ARE A BLIGHT?

Me: Oh no, this is just awful. Please stop tarnishing your weirdly good reputation.

Joanne: I WILL NOT BE SILENCED! MY NEW BOOK IS ABOUT HOW INTERNET TROLLS ARE BEING MEAN TO MEEEEE

Me: You know, maybe I can do without Harry Potter in my life.

Joanne: I’M BEING CANCELLEEEEEEDD

#harry potter #trans rights #literature

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hoebaring · 2 years

Text

Open Books (44) | Kim Namjoon

An unpredicted switch of journals brings two strangers close. Strangers with similarly perturbing experiences, and beautifully healing souls. Abused, bullied, and traumatized, they help each other, and those around them break away from similar experiences, heal and grow gracefully. With thoughtful emotions, and ever growing minds, Y/n and Namjoon are delicate heroes. They understand the best in each other, and the worst, like open books.

Tags/Warnings :- Child abuse, domestic violence, traumatized characters, bullying, self harm, mentions of toxic relationships, angst. I know it's dark but trust me it gets better! namjoonXreader, Namjoon and Y/n, A slow burn romance, fluff, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, self love, healing, etc.

Cross posted on Wattpad

Written by Author G

Word Count :- 839 words

Additional Warnings:- Mentions of anxiousness and slight de-realization.

Masterlist Previously Next

~Not Alone~

The electric hum from the speaker unpleasantly adds to the silent chatter of his band members, the squeaking of canvas shoes against the practice room's floor making Namjoon cringe in mild irritation as a certain kind of anxiety takes over him, mind unsure of why he's here, what he's doing, or what he should do next.

Being a trainee, is, as he was warned, quite stressful. The past week has been rather monotonous. His life seems to revolve around a robotic schedule that oscillates between studying, training, and sleeping.

Although he has fun with the rest of them during practice, it feels like he's stuck in a horrible loop of work, work, and more work. It's the same faces that he's forced to see every day, the same routine he's forced to live, and the same tiring stress that forces itself on his shoulders the closer they get to the debut date.

And there's no doubt that his bandmates must feel the same way.

The vocal instructor steps into the room and Namjoon feels his gut twist unpleasantly.

He greets the boys in a less than cheerful manner, equally stressed, before sitting down on the stool in front of the piano, playing a few scales as the vocal line joins in to resume their practice, which thankfully meant that Namjoon and the others could take a short break.

He strolls towards where his bag is placed and slides down the wall to sit down on the cold floor, Yoongi and Hoseok joining him a few seconds later.

Namjoon doesn't bother to join in on their conversation, too tired to truly participate in it, opting to hear them ramble on about the changes they need to make for the demo track so that he can give his input about the subject once he's in a better frame of mind. However, when that better moment will come, he doesn't know.

It feels like a never-ending loop of work and inadequate sleep, and it's starting to take a toll on him.

It's been a week since he spoke to his family. A week since he spoke to anyone besides teachers at his university and his bandmates.

Y/n herself is equally stressed, busy with the tutoring of a classmate so Namjoon isn't able to speak with her either.

It's like there's a certain kind of fog that clouds his mind, and vision, that makes him feel disconnected from the rest of the world. It feels unreal. It makes him feel alone. Lonely.

The more Namjoon dwells on this, the higher his adrenaline rushes through his veins, the unpleasant cloud of fog crawling through his body as if there's going to be no escape from this gut-wrenching unease.

All it takes is a stern scold from the instructor regarding a flaw in the practice routine for Namjoon to snap.

He bolts out the door, aggressively wiping away the stray tears that make their way down his face, not bothering to look back when Taehyung shouts after him worriedly, Seok-Jin's voice following soon after.

He exits the building and jogs to the nearby park, shuddering as the cold night air blows against his skin.

He lies down on the cool grass, eyes staring up at the blank sky, wind whooshing noisily against his ears as hot tears stroll down the side of his face again once he looks around to see that there's not a single soul around him.

It's just him in this deserted place, and, it scares him.

It takes a few minutes for him to finally calm down, and he stays there, staring ahead into nothing, mind blank.

He doesn't move. Not even when he feels a few hurried footsteps, and soon, a figure coming and laying down next to him. He doesn't want to move. He's scared that if he does, he might lose the little composure he has over himself at the moment.

"Hyung?"

After a moment's hesitation, Namjoon tilts his head to the side to find one of his band members right next to him, a small, comforting smile on their face.

Taehyung.

"Are you alright?"

Namjoon doesn't speak. He's too tired to do so.

Taehyung turns away from him, staring ahead into the blank sky, and much like Namjoon, he too feels the fog that clouded his vision, and mind, slowly clear up.

"You know hyung, if you're too stressed out, you can always tak to us."

"You wouldn't understand Taehyung-ah"

Taehyung turns to looks at Namjoon once more, slightly offended.

"Hyung! After all, we're in this band, together. Who else will understand, if not us?"

He's right.

Namjoon seemed to have forgotten for quite some time that, it isn't just him in the band. It isn't just him who has stress piling up on his shoulders. It isn't just him.

"You're not alone, hyung"

Taehyung voices out, getting up from the cold ground, dusting his pants before holding his arm out for Namjoon to grab onto, and, Namjoon does, softly smiling afterwards as he looks around, only to find the rest of the members standing by, relieved looks on their faces once they find him, crickets chirping away into the night.

He's not alone.

#openbooks #fluff #angst #namjoon x y/n #childabuse #namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #selflove #namjoonff #healing #domesticviolence #open books #kim namjoon #bts #btsff #fanfic #btsfanfic

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your-sweet-cookies · 1 year

Note

🎲

The kiss roulette

And your lucky number is... 16!

A kiss in the rain

The sound of the calming rain hitting the pavement and the abandoned cars surrounding the open game area was a nice distraction from the horrifying bloodied scene that'd unfolded just mere minutes ago. The cold summer shower was a welcome gift from the merciless gods of the Borderlands, washing away the stains of deep crimson red covering Kukki's body, as she slowly waddled aimlessly down the empty city streets.

It was a bloodbath, a nightmare conceived by what must've been a sick and twisted deranged mind... There was no other way to describe the carnage of that Spades game. So many deaths, so much pain...

Finally, Kukki reached her limits and fell on her knees, staring blankly at the sky. Why?...Why did it have to be this way? Why did they all have to die? For what? For some sadist's disgusting selfish desires? For a god's unappeased wrath? All these questions and many more ran through her mind, as her eyes filled with tears, concealed by the ice cold raindrops of the rain.

No matter what she did, Kukki couldn't wash away the guilt she felt for having been part of the only survivors in an unfair game that stole away the lives of so many innocent people. She felt horrible and wondered if she did the right thing getting out alive from that nightmare... Was that the right thing to do? Even if the blood was slowly sliding down her body, guided by the streams of water onto the pavement underneath her, becoming a memory of the past, the stains left on her conscience still remained.

"It's not your fault." A single lone voice echoed in the night's darkness, breaking the woman free from the prison of bitter remorse created by her own mind. Coming towards her was the silhouette of a tall, beautiful woman. A woman she knew oh so well, for they have watched each other's backs for the past 4 or so games. It was Shibuki.

The silver-haired woman wiped away the tears rolling down her reddened cheeks, as her companion knelt down next to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. You did everything you could." Shibuki's voice was kind and gentle. Kukki looked her in the eyes, as she let out another heart wrenching sob and her eyes released a new wave of hot, bitter tears, before throwing herself in Shibuki's arms.

"Yes, that's it, let it all out... Let all the pain go. I'll be here with you, until you'll feel better." The woman whispered in the other's hair, as she rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head recomfortingly. And so, the two women stayed like that, silently, in the rain, until they both calmed down after the traumas they suffered that night. The world might've been cruel, but at least they had each other to heal their broken souls.

#kiss roulette #aib rp #aib roleplay #alice in borderland roleplay #alice in borderland rp #aib oc #aib oc rp #shiiibukiii #rp with kukki

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atozphantomsquadron · 1 year

Text

V - Darkness

(cw: suicide)

After the rigors of basic training, classes began. Every day went much the same way: class in the mornings, training in the afternoons, spend what I had of the evenings either socializing with the nine other women or writing letters home. One of the big reliefs I had about the school was that fraternization between the cadets was strictly prohibited, which was fine by me as all of my experiences with matters of the heart or sex were of a negative nature.

During that time, I made more female friends than I could remember having before, considering my only previous friend had been Heather. The first of these was my barracks-mate, an African-American girl named Jeneal Morris. Jeneal was louder than many of my other friends had been before, but then again that loudness also made her friendlier. Then there was another of the small group of female cadets, Ginger Snyder, who I later learned was a bit of an agnostic. Jeneal took it upon herself to try to convert Ginger, but there was never any pressure, and every conversation was in good fun.

Unfortunately, the rigors of the school were too much for many of the women who tried to enroll. By the end of my freshman year, six of the nine female cadets had withdrawn. Jeneal, unfortunately, was one of them: I guess she was too gentle of a soul to manage the overbearing training. My old friend, that isolated feeling, returned in force with Jeneal’s exit, especially since Ginger was no good to talk about matters of faith with. My second year there, I withdrew into myself, content simply to write letters home to my mother, only emerging from my private hole in the wall infrequently to attend informational sessions or further training.

In that second year something both horrible and miraculous occurred.

On a cooler spring day, midway through the semester, I returned to my barracks after a particularly rough day of training to find a note affixed to my door. The note was from the school’s assistant chaplain, the same man who had brought me there in the first place:

-Ariel-

-It pains me to inform you that your former bunkmate Jeneal Morris was found dead outside her home. I felt you should hear about it from me before the news tells you. I know she was a friend in Christ and very close to you, so I urge you, if at all possible, come to my office if you need counsel. I will be more than willing to excuse you from classes or field training.

Jeneal’s death was a shock to me. Such a happy person, such a cheerful soul, suddenly extinguished like a used cigarette. It made my heart hurt.

A tap on my door broke my sadness. Ginger was on the other side, in tears. I quickly ushered her inside.

“You heard about it too?”

Ginger sniffled and nodded. “All that time she spent, knocking me with the Bible … it’s just too much.”

I gently put my arms around Ginger’s slender shoulders. “It’s okay. Jeneal was a believer, she will find a place by Christ’s side.”

Oh how I wish I had not said those words. Ginger erupted at me, wrenching away. “How the hell do you know? What the hell kind of God lets a good person like her get killed?”

My heart dropped. “What do you mean?”

Ginger paced, her agitation palpable in the room. “What do I mean? What the hell do you think I mean? Jeneal didn’t just drop dead, girl, she was gang-raped and shot in the head! What kind of merciful, loving God lets something that … that sick happen to one of His most loyal worshippers? I’ll tell you how.”

“Ginger, don’t say anything rash …” I pleaded with her from the bed, tears starting to flow.

“I’ll say what I damn well please, Ariel. There is no God!” Ginger slammed the door behind her to punctuate her point. Her words had found purchase, though, and my faith was now fully on trial as their logic started to sink in.

How could God have let that happen to Jeneal? Didn’t she sing loud enough, didn’t she pray hard enough? If God was truly up in Heaven, would He have “rewarded” His servant with such a violent entrance to His Kingdom? Why did such a bad thing happen to Jeneal?

Then it hit me. No bad things had happened to me, not a single one, since I had come to the Institute. No boys had tried to paw me, no girls had tried to rape me, nobody had teased or made fun or denigrated me. Was Jeneal’s murder my punishment for getting too comfortable?

It must have been. In that case, why should I live and Jeneal die? What right do I have to continue living when such a wonderful example of Christian living cannot? The questions raged from one side of my brain to the other, threatening to rend me limb from limb, spiritually kicking my heart up into my throat and down into my gut.

Then an even worse thought came to mind. What if Ginger was right? What if there was no God, and it was simply life, or fate, or whatever that had caused Jeneal to be in the path of danger? What could have stopped it?

I could have. I could have been a better friend, I could have helped her stay at VMI, I could have kept her out of harm’s way.

The guilt was too much. My tears would not stop flowing, they coated my face in a dull wet sheen. I tore apart my barracks room, searching through my possessions. There had to be something …

A razor. I found it hiding under my towel. I felt along my left arm, searching for my pulse. It tapped against my finger, gently, weakly, much like I was feeling at that moment. The tool’s blade felt honed and straight. I brought it over to my wrist.

Two quick slices. Quick, almost painless, like paper cuts. The vein was open. Dark red blood flowed down my arm, covering my wrist and the palm of my hand in seemingly no time. The liquid pulsed along with my heartbeat, pouring out of the wound. My thoughts became cloudy as the blood left my brain, leaving me lightheaded and off-balance. I staggered against the door and slid down it. Blood stained my clothes, blood stained the linoleum floor of the barracks room, stained the furniture and my skin and my eyesight. I closed my eyes and thought only one thing as I plunged into darkness:

“Jeneal, I’m so sorry.”

I don’t know how long it was, but the darkness opened up to a light. It was gentle at first, almost like the first rays of pre-dawn. I saw a vague shadow in the weak light, a male shadow. He looked up at me from a crouched position, his hand touching the ground. I then noticed that he had most of his weight on a sword, an old-time longsword. When the man looked up at me, I recognized him as the young man from my dream: his eyes were pleading with me. His voice was barely a hoarse whisper, but I could make out his words as surely as I could make out his shape.

“Not yet. Go back. Need you.”

My heart sank. “Why? No one needs me, except to die.”

He stood up. Now I could see that his silhouette appeared to be encased in armor. He continued his hoarse whisper.

“Need you. Important. Must live.”

I shook my head violently. “No, no, please … please let me go. Please let me pass. I’m no good to anyone here, no good to defend anyone, no good …”

“Must live so others may live, so others may love.”

This statement stopped me short. No one else had ever loved me, other than my mother and possible Aunt Irene. Certainly no one else was dependent on my existence in order to live. Right?

“So others may live?”

“So others may love, be saved by your love.”

This man, whoever he was, had a very persuasive argument. If I were to love someone in the future, then I would save their life? It made no sense to me, but that was when I decided I probably needed to find out. It was about this time that my eyes opened in the hospital.

The first person I saw was a nurse, who quickly summoned a doctor to look in my pupils and check them. The stale, sterile smells of a hospital room quickly came to my nose, while the doctor scribbled notes on his chart.

“You’re a very lucky young woman, Ms. Vibria. Not a lot of people cut that vein like you did and live to tell about it.”

I gently raised my left hand and looked over. The wrist was simply encased in gauze. I also noticed a pink bracelet hanging gently above all of the dressings marked “SUICIDE WATCH” in black block letters. My voice was barely a cough as I asked the doctor, “how did I get here?”

“In an ambulance. They called from campus, I think it was a couple days ago. You’d been bleeding out for a while, so it’s no surprise you have no memory of it.” The doctor wrote some final notes on his clipboard. “I’m keeping you under observation for another day. If you don’t show any other suicidal tendencies, we’ll release you. Now, I think you have some folks who want to see you.”

The doctor retreated, only to be replaced by a friendly face, the assistant chaplain. He had a gentle smile as he took my good hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, and I’m sorry you took the news so hard. I’m here to talk to now, if you want.”

I gently tried to sit up, but in my weakened state could only manage a slight movement of the pillow. I smiled up at the assistant chaplain sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I would try to come to attention if I could.”

“It’s all right, Ariel. I’m sure you have questions.”

I nodded. “The main one is who called for me?”

The door of the room opened, and Ginger walked in. She looked like she had not slept in days as she approached the bed.

“I’m so sorry I upset you, Ariel. I didn’t think you’d try … well, this.”

I sighed. “It’s not your fault, Ginger. Have you been here the whole time?”

The assistant chaplain nodded. “We both have, Ariel. We’ve been praying for you every day.”

I raised an eyebrow as I looked back over at Ginger. “You’ve been praying?”

Now it was Ginger’s turn to smile sheepishly. “I guess there’s a God after all … ‘cause He brought you back, and that’s what I’ve been praying for.”

She came to the other side of the bed from the assistant chaplain and gently hugged me. With both of these people in the room, I felt secure and at least cared for, but I still pondered what my near-death vision had meant. It would be a long time before I came to realize what the message had meant, as well as who that messenger had been.

(Transcriber’s Note: At this point, the sun was starting to set and Alanna came back into the house insistently, asking her mother to come outside. I joined them both in the back yard, where much to my surprise both Alanna and Ariel sprouted wings and flew into the air above the canyon. After the harrowing story of her suicide attempt, I felt I could not blame Ariel for wanting to blow off some emotional steam, so once both of them returned to earth I offered to come back the next day to continue the interview. Ariel graciously offered me a room for the night. So ended my first day’s worth of interviewing, and while it was fascinating I had learned absolutely nothing about CIBO #A13. I left a note to myself on the recording, hoping that she would progress into the more shady parts of her history the next day.—DAM)

#phantom squadron #dinetah dragon

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