#monstrous may 2021

[thecatwriter23]

Naga

Photo by Huy Phan on Unsplash

Behind the verdant green clusters of aquatic plants, who sway to the gentle movements in the water, the lone resident rests in its small cove.

A short piece about a guppy who dreams about its past life and you can read more here:

#writing #writing community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers community #flash fiction #monstrous may 2021 #cat23's writing

[johannestevans]

Monstrous May 2024

Once again, the time is nearly upon us - with less than a month left of April, it's soon time for #Monstrous May!

Monstrous May was first established in 2021, and I've arranged prompts for each May since - for each day of the month of May, there is a prompt involving and invoking the monstrous.

Create art, sculpture, write fiction, poetry, make whatever you feel inspired to! Create for as many or as few days as inspire you, collaborate with friends, and have fun.

Fan creations are just as welcome as original ones, and naturally, erotic and adult creations are as well as SFW ones!

Have some questions? Here’s the FAQ from 2021. Otherwise, feel free to reply with any questions or HMU with more of them!

Want to see prompts from previous years?

Here’s 2021.

Here’s 2022.

Here's 2023.

#musings #monstrous may #MonstrousMay #writers on tumblr #writing prompts

[dawnagustd]

the naughty sheriff || kth

The queen has made her list and checked it twice. She’s visiting those who have been naughty, and punishing them in ways that are oh so nice.

- Part of the Unholy Night Series.

➻ title: the naughty sheriff ➻ pairing: sheriff deputy!taehyung x f!reader  ➻ genre: fantasy | holiday | magic | smut  ➻ word count: 1.7k  ➻ rating: 18+    ➻ warnings: unprotected sex | creampie | breath play | taehyung has a massive cock | degradation | dom!taehyung | sub!reader | consensual gun play (graphic) | restraints(hand cuffs) | hair pulling | doggystyle | car sex | rough sex | intense orgasm | Sir kink | cervix touching | spanking | power play dynamics | oral sex with an object | abuse of power | spit play | manhandling | mentions infidelity | mentions theft and crime | more cameo from the boys | the ending is a cliff ➻ author’s note: Please read the warnings carefully for this one guys !! And y’all please don’t judge me. I haven’t opened this doc since 2021 lol. It’s unedited but I will edit it later. If you’re following the little bit of story hidden in this filth, you will need to read the epilogue to understand the ending and the point of all this.

“Get moving.”

“Yes, Sir,” you sing.

The two of you march to his car, and that’s when the sheriff turns your body towards him.

“I want you gone, understand?”

“I will leave,” you giggle. “Once I’m done.”

“Well,” Taehyung tsks. “You can’t leave without saying goodbye, can you?”

You shake your head in denial.

You assumed that you two had a nonverbal agreement. You’ll look the other way if he did the same. He’s been in every window you’ve bypassed, kissing some rich housewife under the mistletoe while their husband slept peacefully.

What they don’t know is that they're just a part of his twisted game. While his lovers are busy cutting him a slice of something sweet, he’s robbing them of anything that sparkles. The expensive jewelry their husbands have bought goes into his pocket and is never seen again.

On Christmas morning, he’ll smirk knowing they won’t be able to say a word about who may have taken it to their husbands. Those same men will pay him big money to arrest the thief, and he will arrest a thief. Just not the one responsible for the actual crime.

“I guess I can’t, but um… Weren’t you busy just now?” 

You recall his security patrol of the hospital earlier and wonder if he’s still on duty.

“I already snatched what I came here for,” he says with a wink. Taehyung guides you closer to his vehicle. He stops walking once your back hits the ice-covered glass. “Now, what should I do with you?”

Your smile grows. 

“Anything you’d like, Sir.”

“Damn. Any requests?” he asks.

You look over your shoulder at his car and nod your head.

“Throw me on your backseat and fuck me like you’ve had a bad day.”

And the sheriff does not decline. He opens his door and shoves you inside, still bound in his cuffs. Your back hits the cold interior with a thud. You try to spread your legs, but Taehyung has other plans. He flips you over on your stomach and raises your hips in the air.

“I’ve been watching this ass sway through my town all night, and you didn’t think I’d want a piece?” he growls, tearing your flimsy clothing off.

You hear him fidgeting with his belt until he’s able to pull his pants down to his thighs. Your wiggle to give him an eyeful while he aligns his dick with your opening, but he slaps your ass and tells you to stay still.

“I’m in charge,” he informs. As if that’ll do him any good.

Your wetness allows Taehyung to enter smoothly, and his deep voice moans once he’s buried inside. He grabs your waist and starts pulling you back on his dick. Each time he thrusts into your guts, the breath leaves your body. You don’t have to see him to know his cock is monstrous. 

Your hands want to reach above you to stop your head from banging into the door, but they’re secured behind your back. The pressure building inside of you distracts you from the discomfort, so the banging is forgotten about rather quickly.

“Sir, this feels so good.”

Your words are muffled as a result of being face down, but Taehyung understands clearly. His palm slaps your ass again and your pussy squeezes around him in response.

“Say thank you, whore,” he commands. “Tell me how much you appreciate my services.”

His laughter fills the vehicle and gives you a sea of goosebumps. Its volume penetrates the seating and sends vibrations through your body.

“Fuck! Thank you, Sir!”

But your response isn’t good enough for the sheriff. He grabs you by the hair and snatches you up before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he grunts. “You’re sounding like an ungrateful ass whore, right now.”

“Sheriff! Thank you for giving me your cock,” you sob. “I’m not worthy.”

“Goddamn right, you aren’t.” He pulls out his pistol, and the sound of it clicking only adds to your adrenaline. “Tell me where you think I should put this.”

He twists your head to look you in the eyes, but the only thing you can focus on is what’s in his right hand.

“In my mouth, Sir.” Taehyung hesitates, and you grow impatient. “Please.”

“Say less,” he answers. You open your mouth, and Taehyung doesn’t wait any longer. You don’t realize how heavy it is until it’s resting on your tongue. “It’s not loaded, okay.”

Not that it would matter in your case. You can swallow bullets and shit them out, but you appreciate the courtesy. You thank him the best you can with a mouth full of steel but it only results in you getting your saliva all over the muzzle.

“Fuck.”

Taehyung doesn’t miss it either. His cock twitches inside of you when he observes the way your lips wrap around his gun, just like…

“I bet you can suck the hell out of a cock,” he comments.

“Mhm.”

So you prove it. While Taehyung thrusts into your pussy, you treat his gun like it’s just another dick and proceed to give it some head as his owner watches in awe.

You’re careful with your teeth, and you make every noise you’re capable of making to mimic the sound of some sloppy cock sucking. You take in more and more until your chin touches the trigger guard. You then pull off of it, leaving a slick sheen behind from where your mouth coated the metal.

“Shit!” Taehyung’s mind could not handle an image so lewd while he’s balls deep in pussy. He sets his weapon on the floor and brings his hand around your throat instead. “...Gonna make us come so hard.”

And he doesn’t break his promise. He squeezes your neck until no air can slip through. He wraps his other arm around your body and uses his hand to give your throbbing clit some attention. 

The feeling hits you all at once. The pressure finally comes to a head and sends you soaring. You feel as high as the clouds, floating unsure of when you’re coming down. You want to scream, but it’s impossible to do so with the lack of air.

At some point, Taehyung spills his cum deep into your womb, but your body isn’t aware of it in its state. A minute goes by before Taehyung relaxes his grip and slowly grants you air. 

Your body falls forward, and then you feel the sheriff uncuffing your wrists one by one. You sigh once you’re able to move your limbs.

“Take a minute if you need to,” Taehyung says after you’ve both steadied your breathing. 

But you don’t have a minute, and neither does he.

“You should drive.” Your face is buried in your forearm, trying to hold your giggles.

“What?”

You reposition yourself to a sitting position so the sheriff can hear you clearly.

“I said you should start driving,” you repeat. “You said you’d take me home.”

“Not exactly,” he reiterates. 

You look at him with a brow raised. “I see.”

“I said I’d take you out of town. How you get home is none of my concern.”

You nod your head. You expected this, and you were anticipating it. 

“Well, I'll see you soon I guess.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Better not.”

“We’ll see,” you mutter.

You step out of the car dressed in attire a little bit more presentable for the occasion. It’s morning and the Heauxville residents gather around, waiting patiently for answers. And you shall provide.

“I know everyone is hurting right now. I could not imagine waking up on Christmas morning with nothing under the tree. But I’ve captured the culprit and interrogated him thoroughly. Unfortunately, the criminal is one you’ve all trusted.”

Just as you’re concluding your speech, Taehyung appears. He’s confused, but not for long.

“Wait a minute! Don’t listen to her,” he demands.

Unfortunately for him, no one wants to obey the orders of a crooked deputy.

“As I was saying… I know nothing will replace the joyous feeling of waking up to a home filled with goodies from the big guy, but I have sent a member of my staff to the residence of each and every one of you to replace everything you’ve lost. They’ll be waiting for you when you arrive,” you inform.

The crowd cheers, and two other deputies come to detain the ego-bruised sheriff. Once your job is done, they part ways and allow you to depart. The queen has saved the day yet again.

You never stay for the glory or the praise. The satisfaction comes from knowing that karma did its job. There’s no need to thank you.

“Hey!”

You hear a familiar voice call out to you once you’re nearly out of the thick crowd. Everyone grows silent, and your frantic baker appears, and he brought some friends.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

“So you’re just leaving?... We need to talk.”

You cackle. “No, love. We don’t.”

“But that’s bullshit. You can’t just fuck with people’s emotions like that,” Jungkook argues, stepping in front of him. 

The men surround you, but there’s nothing you can do. They made their own beds, now it’s time to lie in it.

“Jungkook, you’re absolutely right, and all of you should start taking that into consideration. Now, if you all will excuse me—”

“So it’s just fuck us, right?” the sheriff chimes in. “Regardless of how good we made you feel.”

“Or how we welcomed you,” Hoseok adds.

The next person to speak is the toymaker and he seems more disappointed than pissed.

“You shouldn’t have made promises you weren’t going to keep,” he tells you.

“Are you serious?” You can’t help but laugh at that. “Listen, I came here to give you a dose of your own medicine. Get over it.”

With that, you sashay away, but this group is persistent.

“What if we can’t?” Jimin shouts.

You turn around, clearly confused. As if on cue, the doctor breaks through the crowd.

“What if we can’t get over it?... Over you,” he explains. “What happens then?”

“What if I can’t get you out of my mind?” the sheriff speaks up.

You look at each of them and sigh. There is no room in your heart for anyone. Their emotions mean nothing to you. The sooner they realize that they’re the problem, the sooner they’ll realize you’re only here to cause pain. 

Until then…

#taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts fanfics #taehyung fanfics #btsdreamcourt #bangtanbathhouse #bangtansorciere #kvanity #bts imagines #fic: unholy night #sugakookitty

[kdramaspace]

🔁 please consider reblogging to increase our sample size

as always, if you’d like to submit a potential POTW question, you may send in your submissions here.

#potw #potw: poll #potw: results #potw: 231030

[panicroomsammy]

I just saw some takes on “queer coding” that make me want to scream so I am going to post (part of) a paper I’m writing on queer coding in Supernatural that some of my mutuals encouraged me to post when I talked about it a few days ago. Tl;dr is that queer coding is a negative thing done by othering and/or vilifying a character - this is undisputed in academia and if you use the phrase “queer coded” to mean otherwise you are misusing the phrase.

Fandom has a long-lasting tradition of reading queerness into works of fiction – dating back to the original airing of Star Trek in the 1960s. Supernatural’s fandom has been no different. The show has, in fact, influenced the fandom subculture as a whole more than any other individual TV show this century – though to explore this in detail is beyond the scope of this paper.

The popular queer readings by fans largely center around the intensely macho elder brother, Dean Winchester. While the character’s overperformance of masculinity may lend itself to such readings, it is important to note that he is not traditionally queer coded at all. The vast majority of the traditional queer coding which goes on in the show instead applies to the more sensitive younger brother, Sam Winchester. The extent to which fans refuse to engage with this queer coding is what this section of the paper sets out to explain.

I propose that this reluctance stems from the fact that queer coding is negative. Characters are queer coded through Othering – a process by which they are shown to be different from their communities and from the heroes. The use of this in queer coding is well established – “all the analyzed [queer coded] characters somehow fitting the form of an outcast” (Svobodová, 2022) exemplifies queer coded characters as outcasts. There is also the theme of “monsters as the Other, representing queer people” (Mudry, 2022) and that “[queer coded] characters are meant to symbolise everything that is bad. In the process, they also become the Other,” (Veera, 2023). Queerness and monstrosity are linked through the process of queer coding, and this link makes queerness villainous. Historically this has been used to discourage deviant behavior and encourage conformity to the norm.

The way that this Othering is almost always part of the process of setting up a character as a villain is well established by scholarship that has focused on queer coding broadly (“queer-coded characters are almost always villains,” (Kim, 2017), “most of these [queer coded] characters are villains,” (Brown, 2021)). While many queer people have become fans of villains in response to seeing representation in them as the Other, villains or the monstrous do not appeal to everyone, and queer people are no exception.

While this may very well be a matter of preference, preferences do not form in a vacuum and, especially in the context of politically fraught topics such as queerness, are often indicative of deeper political issues. Even those who are Othered may recoil at unpalatable representations of the Other in fiction. In The Big, the Bad, and the Queer: Analysing the Queer-Coded Villain in Selected Disney Films, it is stated that “Seeing villains that behave in particular, perceivably queer ways creates “a psychological association” between ‘queer’ and ‘evil’ in the minds of children.”” This psychological association has been created through decades of queer coded villains in media and applies to present day characters that exhibit traditionally queer coded monstrous traits. The negative perception of queer coded and monstrous characters can apply to queer people as well as straight people.

Sam Winchester is a traditionally queer coded character. His arc over the first four seasons focuses on him having supernatural abilities that work to Other him. In the world of hunters – those who hunt supernatural beings – all supernatural beings are considered to be evil and are indiscriminately killed. Sam is one of these hunters, as are his family – his brother Dean and his father John. The development of his supernatural abilities over these seasons Others him in relation to his community and his family. The narrative positioning of such abilities as evil also work to position him as an anti-hero in a traditional queer coded villain role.

The show focuses on themes of the monstrous in its monster of the week format, broader plot arcs, and in relation to its main characters. This is often done by paralleling Sam with the monster of the week, done with the werewolf Madison in Heart (2.17) and the rugaru Jack in Metamorphosis (4.4). These parallels further work to place Sam in the role of the monstrous, even while working to humanize the monster of the week.

Queer people who have internalized the messages of queer coded characters as “everything that is bad” from other queer coded media are likely to dislike characters that are queer coded and may wish to distance their own queerness from such portrayals.

#supernatural #queer coding #sam winchester #this is just part of the paper and I do have more it is just a) not presentable yet and b) I plan to publish this and idk how I feel about #posting writing that will be affiliated with my irl name on tumblr

[akumahoshojo]

Castlevania I + II Fanfic: A Horrible Night's Dream (Chapter 1 preview)

I wrote this fic for @eboni-napalm as part of a Halloween gift exchange that started back in like... 2021 😱 After two of the roughest years for me ever (school/health/family/general RL problems all happening at once), I've actually been able to work on it!

While I'm still finishing up my final draft of the first chapter (fingers crossed I can do it before midnight!), I thought I'd post this preview of it here for tonight for any CV fans who might be interested in reading... and hopefully checking out the rest. It's the first 4 out of 8 vignettes to be contained in the completed first chapter, set in CV1 era for now.

Game: Castlevania I and II Pairing: Simon Belmont + CV2's "Mysterious Woman" (😉) Themes: Prophecies, Curses, Fighting Fate, Anachronic Order, Second Person POV, Experimental Style Content Warning: General themes of prejudice, non-graphic human sacrifice scene Thanks so much for your patience eboni-napalm-- I'm so sorry about the delay, but getting to work on this story has been rewarding and challenging in the best kind of way! 💗 Check out the story below!

i. now

To one who dreams the future, the present is the past. And thus all your remembered life has been a divided one, waking eyes on constant guard and inner eye fixed on time untold, like two-faced Janus in the body of a girl.

You've never been able to consider your nighttime visions a power, or even a gift: not when they've only come to you as you've lain helpless in the dark, bringing unwanted glimpses of a greater darkness in the world that encircles the realm of dreams.

And if some force beyond even that world can tear through the layers of time to give you a fleeting glimpse of what lies on the other side, then one lone human attempting to change the future’s design in response seems as futile a task as attempting to prevent an avalanche through the placement of a single snowflake.

But that's never stopped you from trying.

ii. then 

To the citizens of Transylvania, he may have been a savior, but to you, he was no different from the rest of them—which placed him somewhere just above scum. And so, as all of Jova turned excitedly north to welcome their conquering hero home, you chose to remain alone in the wooded outskirts of town, where they'd told you your kind would always belong.

Simon, the latest golden boy of the Belmont clan, with a mane of golden hair and bags of looted gold to match, was already the stuff of legends. He'd journeyed alone only days before to Dracula's stronghold beyond the mountains, slaying its monstrous guards and unholy master in a single night and escaping just in time to watch the demon castle crumble at dawn. Stories of his triumph had already traveled down from the hamlets at the foothills and across the river from the town of Yomi, faster than the news of the Dark Lord's resurrection on the night the Black Mass occurred. 

The night they’d shunned you for the last time.

iii. now

The future creates itself in the darkness behind your closed eyes. Your essence stares back from the depths of your mind.

Another vision, two-sided as always: fate's promise to you, and yours to yourself. You will fight it, the truest part of you swears, in the waking world where dreams can't reach, no matter what you'll see and see again.

It catches you off guard anyway.

As your mind's eye clears, the darkness that clouded it coalesces into a black sea, the crests of dozens of waves rising ominously from its surface. The light comes next—faint touches of distant moonlight and dancing candlelight, refining the indistinct sea of shadows into something all too real.

Hooded worshippers, lit by candles as black as their robes, fill the gutted remains of an old church. The church is dark, and the night outside is darker, showing through the shattered stained-glass windows like a void swallowing up the holy and the fair. Idols and relics, goat-headed demons and inverted stars and things you can't decipher, lurk just at the edges of the shadows.

But it's the thing on the altar that scares you the most.

Nearly shrouded in a tattered black cloak, it lays limp and motionless, sickly pale as any corpse—but with a countenance alert as any living man. Its face is twisted into a rictus of mad triumph, sightless eyes fixed on the crumbled ceiling above and a sky empty of stars, as if to mock, even now, whatever higher power watches from above. You're certain you've never seen it, through this eye or your outers. And yet, the longer you stare, the louder a primal alarm seems to scream from somewhere deep inside you.

Known and unknown, mighty and weak, living and dead—the thing’s very existence is a contradiction made flesh.

Clarity flashes across your mind in the errant glint of candlelight off a fang.

You know, now, what this thing is. Its—his—name is Dracula: scion of the dragon, the devil's very son.

His dark grip still chokes Transylvania as tightly in legend as it did in reality, even a century after his last death. Though the countryside has long healed from the scars of his prior reign, those like yourself, too well acquainted with the occult, feel their phantom ache to this day. It is the pain that springs up with each scornful word and every hostile stare, the chafing knowledge that anyone judged slightly less than normal will never be truly safe from a populace still cowering from even the memory of Dracula's shadow.

Your gaze focuses once more at a sudden shuffling among the faceless worshipers: a parting of the shadow sea. From the darkest corner of the church a maiden is borne, light as spindrift, through the crests. Her dress is pale, and her panicked face is paler. She seems almost to shine amongst the shadows that guide her onward, a lone spot of white nearly consumed by the blackness of the church.

A sacrifice.

As she nears the grim idol that lies in wait upon the altar, one of the encircling shadows shoves her roughly forward. She stumbles against the altar's edge, delicate hands bound tightly behind her back.

You are forced to watch, powerless as always, as present and future slip beyond salvation.

Another shift of the lurking shadows. A fleeting flash of metal. A torrent of blood from the maiden's lovely neck.

As the blood splatters on the leering corpse below, its fanged grin seems only to widen. And with a creeping chill of dread, you realize the thing on the altar isn't a corpse anymore.

The church darkens even more, beyond what seems possible, as the sky through the ceiling is choked by thunderclouds. The candlelight drowns in a shadow sea.

For a moment, you see nothing but blissful darkness, blessed oblivion—for a moment, you can nearly imagine what a normal night's sleep might be.

By the time a flash of lightning illuminates the church once more, Dracula is already gone—the monster loosed from its temporal cage.

You barely notice. You'd seen it, then, when the lightning struck, in what little you could view of the world beyond the church. The outlines of a cityscape all too familiar. The narrow curve of a waning gibbous moon.

Jova. Easter Sunday.

You still have time, you realize.

And, fate willing, so do they.

iv. then

It had been Easter then, the time of the town's yearly carnival. Those dull brick buildings had looked almost inviting, festooned with grand banners and colorful paper lanterns, as lively dances and celebrations went on in the market square. The scenes of joy and community, the swirls of music and laughter, seemed to sweep you up despite yourself, almost softening the heart their world had hardened long before. You were hopeful enough to believe the Lord's Resurrection reason enough for them to accept you, for that one day at least, to heed your warning and save their souls.

You were wrong.

No matter who you approached, no matter how you pleaded, the hatred you'd grown up with, inseparable as your shadow, blocked you at every turn. Maybe it was your clothes, or your accent, or just the fact you knew something they didn't, but whatever attempt you made, they judged it to be wrong. Your warnings, increasingly desperate, were met with insults from even the kindest faces in that celebration, insults steeled with the threat of something worse.

Liar.

Witch.

Unholy.

Unwelcome.

You'd finally turned your back on Jova when the stares began to linger a little too long, when the murmurs in the crowd began to overpower even the sounds of the festivities. You refused to add your own life to the number that would soon be lost.

And you'd tried, dammit. They couldn't say you didn't try. 

If their blood was to be shed, it would not be on your hands.

You told yourself this as you left them all behind, the music growing fainter and the colored lights dimmer with each step you took into the engulfing darkness. They'd just shown they cared nothing for you, for even themselves, so why chance your life for them? You didn't care—you truly didn't care.

But when your prophecy came true and hell came to earth, you suffered with them all the same.

#castlevania #simon belmont #castlevania 1 #simon's quest #castlevania 2 #my fanfiction #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania ii #castlevania i #fanfiction

[aronarchy]

The Youth Move Forward

The Palestinians feel betrayed and abandoned by the world. People only remember them when there’s an ongoing genocidal campaign, and even then, everybody is busy talking about how “complicated” the situation is. I’m not sure if they have anyone to trust, including their own “leadership.”

The Shabab, the youth fighting in the streets, the kids erecting barricades against the police and setting trash bins on fire, are completely alienated from any form of political force; they work in small informal groups, and many of them don’t give a fuck about politics at all. They come from the far edges of Palestinian society in 48, the direct consequence of the Zionist attempt to reduce this society to internal chaos. They are gangsters, drug dealers, outlaws of any kind, youth without a future from the poorest villages, towns, and neighborhoods of 48 Palestine, the lumpenproletariat, and—the most important thing—they are completely uncontrollable. The traditional politics of organizations, political parties, respectable religious leaders, and NGOs means nothing to them.

The new generation in Palestine has nothing left to lose. Even according to Israel’s infamous Shin Bet, they really are ungovernable. Whenever a riot or an uprising gets out of control, the authorities and security agencies look for “responsible” adults, respected “community leaders” to pacify the situation. But when you invest so much power in breaking a society from the inside to such an extent, you create an enemy that you can’t negotiate with, because he has zero fear of you and nothing to rely on or hope for. There is no going back to normal.

And they are being completely vilified. The media propaganda machine treats them as nothing but criminals, terrorists, savages, bloodthirsty pogromists, and they don’t get to have a voice. The riots are presented as nothing more than an outburst of violent anger from some hooligans, with the idea that our police force, intelligence agencies, and prison system will deal with them. It looks as though everybody decided to continue to push them as low as possible, to sweep them under the rug, to treat them as nothing more than monstrous murderers until the next outburst. Zionist apartheid is also a class system, and they hate poor Palestinians the most.

The uprising is also, of course, a form of class warfare, beyond the regular scope of ethnic conflict. I’ve read somewhere that during the first intifada, in its early days, many of the youth who revolted in Gaza and beyond weren’t very political and most of the attacks were directed against richer Palestinians. This goes way back to the great Arab revolt of 1936, when many of the attacks involved the Falahis, the peasant population of Palestine, acting against the urban elite. This dimension of the class struggle within Palestinian society is always erased from history, in favor of a more simplified ethnic conflict of Arabs against Jews.

This class struggle is always pushed aside once the big parties, the militarist factions, manage to take over; the first intifada, for example, was shut down by the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO). It was quickly transformed from a popular mass struggle to a top-down controlled opposition in the hands of a few corrupted bureaucrats. As we all know, once the militias and the professional revolutionaries take over, the people become spectators in their own “liberation,” and the mass popular appeal of the resistance is lost. The PLO and Fatah crushed the intifada in order to get the Oslo accords going, which divided the West Bank into small cantons and introduced the so-called Palestinian Authority. Fatah became the de facto long arm of Israel and the occupation, managing the apartheid from within. A similar (though not identical) process is taking place now with Hamas, in my opinion.

While I was composing this, the focus shifted completely to rockets striking Israeli cities from Gaza. Nine people in Israel died from Hamas rockets—including Palestinians, like in the village of Dahamash near Ramle. A few Hamas rockets reached as far as the West Bank. Rockets also came from Lebanon. The protests largely waned, and we don’t see large riots anymore. One can’t help but feel that Hamas and the militarist factions interrupted the birth of a popular, mass movement in the streets, in the inner cities of the occupation, which could have been capable of creating real damage to the stability of the state.

We can clearly see who benefits from this. The anarchy within Israeli cities is over, and Israel can sell the same old story to the world about us fighting Islamist jihadist terrorists who are shooting rockets at our cities. It’s a much more convenient story, and much easier to deal with. Perhaps the strategy of weakening the secular revolutionary Marxist fronts of the 1980s and strengthening Hamas has paid off. Reactionary ideologies are easier to control, and whenever needed, they can take over the struggle and kill mass movements.

In this system, everybody plays his part. The left does what the left always, historically, does in times of social upheaval: try to pacify the resistance and absorb its energy in order to direct it towards more “acceptable” (i.e., ineffective) terrain. The same old outdated tactics, boring predictable demonstrations, “non-violent” nonsense, and empty talks about shallow “co-existence,” peace, and democracy. There’s nothing really to expect from what’s left of the Israeli Jewish left, but even the Arab political parties have proved to be completely disconnected from what’s happening in the streets.

The communist “radical leftist” Hadash party from the Joint Arab List and the Ra’am party both got into the Knesset (the Israeli parliament) in the elections of March 23. They urged people to protest lawfully and refrain from violence. No wonder the youth are completely alienated from them. For 48 Palestinians, the Arab parties in the Knesset are the same thing that the Fatah and the PA are for 67 (West Bank) Palestinians: another face of the occupation, sellouts, collaborators, conflict managers, a tool of pacification for the regime. Just like Syriza in Greece or Podemos in Spain, they appear in mass movements to appropriate the language and the energy of the people revolting in order to channel all of it back into acting within the system—and of course, in the moment of truth, they will completely betray people. I doubt they have any credibility left now.

It has almost become cliché to mention this, but the problem of the Palestinians is not just the far-right assholes, but Zionism. Israeli racist mobs are the direct consequence of a country established on deeply racist roots—a settler colonial project built on the ruins of villages and the driving away of the indigenous population, of a Jewish supremacist state—at the expanse of everyone else. Israel is probably one of the worst examples of a nation state as a way of solving things for oppressed people. It’s a lot easier for Israelis to get disgusted by far-right hooligans attacking a Palestinian, while the IDF’s genocidal campaign in Gaza (let alone the violent birth of this state) either goes unquestioned or is completely accepted. The IDF is the “people’s army,” and it is putting the platform of “Death to Arabs” into practice more efficiently than any grassroots fascist ever could.

Right now, the Gaza Strip is completely in ruins. Military airplanes drop bombs on clinics, a media tower fell down, entire neighborhoods are erased. The situation is unbearable. As I’m writing this, about 250 people have been killed and thousands are displaced. Gaza has been under siege since 2007; it was a hell on earth before the current massacre, the biggest open prison on earth, and now it has reached a situation of human catastrophe. This is mainstream Zionism, not the extremist edges.

(2021-05-29)

#repost of someone else’s content #CrimethInc #Palestine #classism #adultism #youthlib #youth liberation #Palestinian anarchism #anarchism

[wanderingnork]

Horror Movies: Something Old, Something New

Five double features, each matchup featuring a similar theme, plot, or style--but separated by at least twenty years.

Matango (1963, 1h 30m) and Gaia (2021, 1h 30m): Matango is the story of a group of boaters shipwrecked on a strange island infested with bizarre mushrooms. Based on a 1907 short story called The Voice In The Night (read it on archive.org here) and directed by Ishirō Honda, one of the directors and writers of the original Godzilla, it's spine-tingling tale. Gaia takes place in a South African forest, where a pair of forestry service employees discover that the forest is alive in a whole different way than they thought. Both stories deal with fungus, changing human bodies, and ecological disaster. You may want to avoid mushrooms and blue cheese for a bit after these.

The Red Shoes (1948, 2h 15m) and The Red Shoes (2005, 1h 45m): Both of these stories take their title and overall themes from the same Hans Christian Andersen story. You can read the story here. Separated by nearly sixty years and multiple continents--since the 1948 film was made in England and the 2005 film was made in South Korea--they're well worth comparing. Two different times and cultures tackle the same story, and come out with stories that are fully distinct yet strikingly similar.

Ghostwatch (1992, 1h 30m) and Late Night With the Devil (2024, 1h 30m): On Halloween night in 1992, on live TV, a BBC documentary crew enters a haunted house to witness a haunting, only for everything to go horribly wrong--or at least that's the premise of Ghostwatch. The BBC created its mockumentary using its established TV personalities and other added elements of realism, resulting in a War of the Worlds type of national panic. It's never been run on any UK TV channel again. Late Night With the Devil takes a similar spin, although it doesn't present itself as happening today: it's a documentary of events occurring on live TV in 1977. Despite that, watch the plot beats. See if you can spot Ghostwatch. I was able to predict almost the exact plot of the film once I realized what was going on (although it didn't detract from my enjoyment at all).

The Thing (1982, 1h 50m) and 30 Days of Night (2007, 1h 50m): Two different takes on "stranded in an icy polar wasteland," one taking place in Antarctica and the other in Alaska. In the first, the monstrous chaos comes from a shapeshifting alien, while in the second, it's vampires. However, as different as its monsters are, 30 Days of Night pays plenty of homage to The Thing. From helicopter sabotage to prevent escape to a striking shot that evokes the theatrical poster of The Thing, 30 Days of Night shows where it came from. TW for dog death in both movies.

Jason and the Argonauts (1963, 1h 45m) and Bonestorm (short film from VHS: Viral 2014, anthology runtime 1h 20m): Okay, so Jason and the Argonauts isn't exactly horror. It's a retelling of the myth of the same name, with Jason and his crew of heroes sailing to find the Golden Fleece. As much as it is heroic fantasy, it's also full of monsters--stop-motion hydras, harpies, and more created by the legendary Ray Harryhausen. The grand finale is a battle against a group of animated skeletons, which you can watch here. Fifty years later, the makers of Bonestorm revisited the same idea, as a pair of skateboarders battle cultists-turned-skeletons on a trip to Mexico.

Food for thought: Whether or not the more recent filmmakers were aware of the older movies is uncertain, but what can we as viewers draw from these strikingly similar works? Do the old-school effects hold up next to their modern counterparts? In the Matango/Gaia and Red Shoes double features, different cultures are also in play. What's the impact of that on the stories? What does it say about horror that we keep going back to revisit the same themes and stories?

(Previous Recommendations)

#nork rants #the horror tag

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

All the Time in the World - Chapter 12

Part 2 - Imbroglio

“There are two kinds of secrets. The ones we keep from others and the ones we keep from ourselves.” Anon

Birkhall, January 2021

The only thing that has made this new lockdown bearable is the weather. There is a crisp snow on the ground yet the sun has just the faint touches of warmth and the skies are wall to wall cornflower blue. We’ve walked for miles every day just to feel less cooped up in the house. Whilst both of us have been working remotely, we’ve still got masses of spare time and we’ve spent more time together these past few lockdowns than the rest of our entire married life put together. Invariably, we’ve ended up talking through issues we have always just ignored. I’m taking it as a positive that we’re more involved in each other’s work and families than we’ve ever been before. I’m not quite as optimistic about his persistent need to overhaul our lives to analyse every minute detail.

“When did you realise that you loved me?”

I wince slightly. It’s a really difficult question. I look down at the dirt path in front of me and don’t answer. He leaves just a few paces before continuing.

“You can’t say you don’t know or you’re not sure. That’s not in the spirit of this discussion.”

I stall, stopping to pick up a stick and throw it for the dogs. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“Yes. But I don’t accept your answer.”

“What would you like me to say?”

This time it is him who pauses, wrestling the stick out of the dog’s mouth and throwing it again for them. “Milla, be honest. Why does it matter? It’s so many years ago.”

“Because every time we’ve discussed this, you’ve got upset with me.”

He scrunches his nose although he knows I’m right. “Alright. If I get upset with you, I’ll put an additional half a million into every grandchild’s trust fund. Then it’s a win-win situation for you.”

I gawp at him, knowing that he’s serious and hating that I’m so easily bought. He continues walking, chuckling at me and therefore understands.

“1970?”

“No. I did not love you.”

“I think you did.”

“I don’t remember ever thinking to myself that I was in love with you. I’m sorry. I liked you. I was very fond of you. Maybe I did love you. But I wasn’t in love with you. We hadn’t had enough time.”

“You’re wrong. You loved me.”

“You may have wanted me to love you. That’s very different.”

“When you married Andrew?”

“No. Stop torturing yourself. I was very fond of you. I was upset that things ended so badly. That it was considered best for ‘all parties’ if I married Andrew. But I did love Andrew then.” I watch the tip of his nose, the tell tale sign of displeasure and reach for his hand, kissing it before returning my eyes to the path ahead. “You asked me to be honest. You wanted to talk about it. You promised you wouldn’t get upset with me.”

“I promised I wouldn’t get upset with you. Not upset in general. After Tom was born?”

“I don’t know. No, you’ve got to allow grey areas, Darling. I was rather desperately unhappy and I didn’t understand why. And you were… I think if I wasn’t so sad, I would have been in love with you. But I couldn’t feel anything. You were my friend, my revenge, my secret. There was love there, certainly.”

“When my Uncle Dickie died?”

I reach for his arm to squeeze it. It’s funny how grief for a person you love never really dies. It just hides inside you, dorment, the pain numbed by the passage of time. His Honorary Grandpapa was such a huge part of his life, of our lives by that time, but your life continues to grow, despite the grief and eventually, that gaping chasm the loss created is no longer such a consuming part of your life, just a part of your life. But it’s still there, that chasm, if you allow yourself to think about it. Just as raw as ever. “Yes. I think that’s what made me realise I loved you.” This is a lie. I knew before this monstrous life event. For me, it wasn’t death that made me realise I loved him, but birth.

1971, Classiebawn Castle

I sit quietly, staring out of the window, pretending to be nonchalant as we drive through the countryside. After the panic of getting into his plane, where I had to pretend to be calm as he flew us across the sea, this feels relatively easy.

“You’re much less grey now.”

I sigh, inwardly. Evidently I wasn’t successful.

“I thought you’d enjoy a personal plane ride.”

“It was slightly better than an ordinary plane ride.”

He chuckles at me and reaches for my hand.

“It’s refreshing to see you have your own foibles. Sometimes you’re a little intimidatingly perfect.”

“Thank you?”

“It was a compliment.”

Other than the flight, every moment we spend together is so free of strife and hurt that I find myself relaxing. Today, I spent the entire day thinking about him. I never thought I’d be able to push Andrew out of my mind so easily but he’s a tonic to that mess. I might never love anyone as much as I love Andrew, but if I have to live without him, this will either be a wonderful alternative or the best revenge I could think of. I’m not sure I’m quite ready for the former. Pushing away the more unsavoury of my thoughts, I concentrate on the present instead. I’m good at doing that. Why live in the past or spend your life fearing the future when the present is the only thing you have control over?

“I’m taking you to meet my Uncle Dickie.”

“Oh, right.” I wrack my brains, trying to place the name and then it hits me and I force my face to remain neutral.

“Your hand’s gone all stiff. Relax. He’s like an honorary grandpapa to me. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“I didn’t dress…”

“You dressed correctly. We’ll spend the weekend hunting and walking and riding. You’ve got evening attire. You’re dressed perfectly.”

We sit in silence for a little while as I force my heart to stop beating manically before I blurt out, “Why him?”

“There are only two people in the world that I want you to meet who I care about and who care about me. One is my Grandmother, but you already know her, the other is my Uncle Dickie. I can’t introduce you to my mother and father but I can bring you to meet the people who raised me, who love me. I realise it’s not the same as you taking me back to your family house with all your immediate family, but it’s as intimate as I can do.”

I smile, raising his hand to my lips. “I can’t wait to meet him.” Because at this moment it’s suddenly true and I relax. He wouldn’t take me to meet someone who won’t be nice to me. That’s not his style. I don’t know if I’m in love with him or not, but I know there’s something special here. I’ve never felt so wanted and appreciated in my life. For now, I’m going to focus on being his friend. A friend I want to be with all the time. Well, a friend I happen to enjoy sleeping with. A friend I need to kiss at every possible opportunity. I wonder if he loves me? Maybe I’m getting carried away with myself. I might just be a bit of fun for him. That’s okay. I think. I’m certainly just a bit of fun for Andrew. It would be nice to be worth a little more.

“Do you really mean that?”

“What?” I was completely lost in my thoughts.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“No.” It’s not worth lying about. “What did you ask?”

“I asked if you fancied going fly fishing and you said yes.”

“Did I? Well that very much depends. I’m up for most things if it involves company and chatting. So I’ll fish with flies if you are prepared to show me how to do everything and aren’t going to expect me to be quiet for long periods of time.”

“I might take you salmon fishing then. I don’t think fly fishing is for you. I find it’s a great way to contemplate life.”

“You mean you stand in silence in one spot for hours on end.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I fancy fly fishing.”

“What about if we go in a little boat?”

“Are we still fishing?”

“In the sea this time.”

“The same rules apply.”

“Do you ever do peace and quiet?”

“You’re with the wrong person for that. Only when I’m on my own.”

“I go on my own for peace and quiet also. If we go line fishing, are you going to be bored to death ten minutes in?”

“Are you planning on talking to me?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t bring you if I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Sounds great then.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He looks at me with a strange look in his eye and then he pulls the car around the corner. We turn out onto a road which runs parallel with the cliffs and I can see the fog rolling in off the sea. Then I spot the castle.

“How far away are we?”

“About fifteen minutes, why?”

“Will we be missed if we’re a little late?”

“No?”

“Pull up.”

He does as I ask and I get out of the car and run over to the cliffs. He follows, quickly behind me and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. It rises up out of the undulating rolls of the hills and towers high with twisting spirals.

“My goodness, it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

“The mountain behind it is home to the fairies. It’s said the doors open at night and the restless spirits float out. The villagers claim to hear them and some have been kidnapped to look after the fairy babies. If they escape before seven years have passed, they can leave but otherwise they are trapped there forever.”

“Don’t let them kidnap me.”

“I’ll keep you tight in my arms…

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.”

“Yeats.” It makes me turn in his arms and he kisses me so, so softly until the heavens open and we have to run back to the car. But it’s too difficult to stop as he pulls me across the front seat of the car and I find myself on his lap, kissing him fiercely as the rain hammers down on the top of the car. His arms are wrapped so tightly around me and I feel his fingers grasping onto me, holding on as we sail off with the intensity of the kiss, pulling me closer even as I try to rock my hips against him and then closer still as I moan into his mouth as pleasure from this slight movement takes me unexpectedly. 

A flash of car headlights interrupts us and as we pull away from each other, I realise it’s suddenly got very dark. The car stops next to us and winds down the window.

“Your Royal Highness…”

We can hear him through the glass but Charles winds down my window, reaching over me to talk to the man.

“Are you okay, Sir?”

“Fine, thank you, Timothy.”

“We’ve got to go the back route. Workers have dumped a huge truck of gravel over the main road in and they’re not due to shift it until Monday. Follow me, Sir.” 

Classiebawn Castle is a fairytale outside but it’s cold and draughty inside. I feel like I’ve gone back several centuries, sat at dinner with the roaring fire and then I have to retire to the drawing room to leave the men to drink whisky and smoke cigars. My host seems pleased to leave her husband to his folly and we sit together for a good hour without either of us taking a breath from chatter for anything less important than a drag of a cigarette or a sip of a Tom Collins. Eventually, the doors open and a slightly drunk Charles escapes from the dining room and makes a beeline for me. He sits practically on top of me and wraps his arms around my waist.

“You smell of smoke.”

“So do you.” I like the smell of cigar smoke, but I don’t need to tell him this.

“Can we go to bed?”

“I’ve just got a new drink.”

He picks up my drink and glugs half of it before the vodka hits the back of his throat and makes him splutter.

“That’s really rude.”

He laughs with an indignant squeak, “The number of times you’ve downed my drink to get me to go!”

“Completely different.”

“What? Because you did it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Milla, that drink is vile. I think you’re going to need a nightcap to get the taste from your mouth.”

“Pick your tiple.”

He makes me laugh. Slightly drunk, he’s much more gangly and awkward than usual, wobbling around the room, finding a bottle of his choosing but when we get upstairs to a room warmed by a roaring fire, he no longer seems to be troubled by his limbs. 

“Are you sober?”

“No. But I’m not as drunk as I was acting. I had to get back to you somehow.”

It makes me laugh again and then he grasps onto my cheeks, making me look up at him, seeing my own reflection in his eyes before he kisses me. Kissing me in a way which makes every hair on my body stand on end, before pulling away to gaze in my eyes again and I get a jolt of shock through me as strong as the desire which is coursing through my veins as I realise that I want this to be a real relationship. I don’t want to just be friends. Perhaps this is the real thing and this is just the beginning. There’s something about kissing him which makes me forget to breathe and I can’t think about anything other than the feel of him. It’s okay. We have all the time in the world to figure this out. Friends or not, we’re very much lovers and tonight I have him to myself the entire night.

#duchess of cornwall #camilla #camilla duchess of cornwall #camilla fanfiction #charles and camilla #duchess camilla #love story #prince charles and camilla #charles and camilla fanfiction #charles and camilla fanfic #king charles lll #king charles and queen camilla #king and queen #marriage #divorce #dysfunctional family #soul mates #old friends #trauma #love conquers all #romance #passion #prince charles fiction #prince of wales #covid #covid19 #pandemic #lockdown #sickness #frustration

[rc-appreciationweeks]

This Halloween, you better bring your reading glasses, because it's time to whack out word crimes that bring out the absolute worst (affectionate) in the great universe of Romance Club.

To help out, we've compiled an eclectic spread of writing resources for your convenience - and please, if you have additional suggestions for your fellow writer, let us know in the comments!

Spooky Writing Prompts - by @daydreaming-effy

Halloween Fluff Prompts - by @asparklerwhowrites

Halloween-themed Dialogue Prompts - by @palettes-and-prompts

30 Whumpy Dialogue Prompts - by @wildfaewhump

Lists of Prompts I and II grouped by mood - by @linwritesif

Monster x Monster Hunter Prompts - by @deity-prompts

A Sense of Horror (inspiration) - by @whump-queen

Monstrous May 2021 Write-Up (inspiration - please note: occasionally suggestive) - by Johannes T. Evans

9 Tricks For Writing Suspense Fiction (inspiration) - by Simon Wood on Writer's Digest

What Even Is Suspense (inspiration - not a promotion at all, just a few good points if you're unsure how to ramp up the scaries) - through Masterclass.com

#romance club #rchalloweekend #rc appreciation weeks #writing resources

[brokehorrorfan]

Broke Horror Fan presents Black Friday and Deathcember on limited edition, fully functional VHS! The last few copies of each title are available now at Witter Entertainment.

Black Friday is a 2021 horror-comedy starring Devon Sawa (Final Destination), Ivana Baquero (Pan’s Labyrinth), Ryan Lee (Super 8), Michael Jai White (Spawn), and Bruce Campbell (The Evil Dead). Fall Out Boy frontman Patrick Stump composed the score.

Each Black Friday tape includes a letter from director Casey Tebo and exclusive introductions by actors Ryan Lee and Stephen Peck and writer Andy Greskoviak.

Deathcember is a 2019 horror anthology with segments directed by Ruggero Deodato (Cannibal Holocaust), Lucky McKee (May), Pollyanna McIntosh (The Walking Dead), Trent Haaga (68 Kill), Julian Richards (The Last Horror Movie), Isaac Ezban (The Similars), and more.

Each Deathcember tape includes letters from producers Dominic Saxl and Ivo Scheloske.

For optimal VHS viewing, the films have been cropped from its original aspect ratio to 4:3 full frame. They are officially licensed and approved by their respective creators.

On Thanksgiving night, a group of disgruntled toy store employees begrudgingly arrive for work to open the store at midnight for the busiest shopping day of the year. Meanwhile, an alien parasite crashes to Earth in a meteor. This group of misfits led by store manager Jonathan (Bruce Campbell) and longtime employee Ken (Devon Sawa) soon find themselves battling against hordes of holiday shoppers who have been turned into monstrous creatures hellbent on a murderous rampage on Black Friday.

Deathcember is the world’s first cinematic Advent calendar. Behind its doors lurk 24 terrifying short films by directors from around the globe, turning the season of love into a season of fear, with gifts of blood and terror to unwrap for audiences everywhere.

#black friday #deathcember #bruce campbell #devon sawa #horror #vhs #broke horror fan #dvd #gift #ruggero deodato #lucky mckee #ivana baquero #michael jai white #patrick stump #fall out boy #Youtube

[thecatwriter23]

The Last Stand

Photo by Colin + Meg on Unsplash

A pointed snout peaks through the tangled vines, pointed upwards; something has piqued its interest. The scent of a nectarine draws the small mammal towards it...

A short piece about a rogue rafflesia and the full work is here:

#writing #horror #rafflesia #writing community #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers community #flash fiction #monstrous may 2021 #cat23's writing

[johannestevans]

Once more, we approach that most wondrous time of the year - it's nearly May, and that means that it's nearly time for the #MonstrousMay Challenge!

I started Monstrous May as a prompt challenge in 2021, and this is the third year! There's a bit more focus this year on monsterfuckery, but feel free to skip days, alternatively interpret days, or just do different things with them if that suits you.

Below are creator prompts for every day of the month of May from the 1st through to the 31st - if you're a writer, an artist, a graphic editor, a headcanoner, a creator of any kind, please come along for the ride and make some monsters with us!

Fan creations are welcome if that's your poison, and erotic and adult creations are encouraged and celebrated, but there's no obligation if you prefer to create more general work.

Whatever wonders you have to share with the world, just tag your posts with #MonstrousMay on your favourite platforms, and make sure to reblog and to boost your favourites, and comment and spread the love!

Have some questions? Here's the FAQ from 2021. Otherwise, feel free to reply with any questions or HMU with more of them!

Want to see prompts from previous years?

Here's 2021.

Here's 2022.

Make sure to share this post and tell your friends, too!

#monstrousmaychallenge #MonstrousMay #Monstrous May #prompt challenge #challenge

[vrusk]

ewan mcgregor. 51. cis man. he/him. ┊┊ cerberus corp has been watching VIRGIL RUSK.  some of the public has dubbed them BESPOKE because of ADAPTIVE MONSTROUS PHYSIOLOGY/REGENERATION gifted by AN EXTRA ORDINARY INCIDENT THAT FUCKED UP AN ORDINARY DAY. having been an extra ordinary since 2021, they’re doing a good job at hiding A LACK OF CONTROL, SENSORY SENSITIVITIES, DEPENDENCE ON CERBERUS CORP R&D, and THE RISK OF COLLATERAL DAMAGE. when they aren’t working their day job as a DESIGNER, they are fond of PAINTING and are never seen without HIS SUNGLASSES; his eyes are where his mutation shows first. at first glance they seem PASSIONATE & CREATIVE, though their close friends know them to also be CRITICAL & VOLATILE.  they consider themself a CIVILIAN. ┊┊ gray. they. 32. pst. none.

001.  GENERAL

name  Virgil Rusk 

nicknames  If you know, you know. If you don’t, safely presume you’re not allowed to invent your own. 

age  51

date of birth  may 22, 1972

zodiac  gemini

place of birth  Fort Worth, Texas 

current residence  New York City, though he has properties elsewhere, including a small ranch back home in Texas and and what he considers a tasteful, old-fashioned yacht. 

gender  cis man

pronouns  he

sexuality  homosexual

occupation  Designer, publicly. Secretly, a “contractor” for Cerberus Corp, developing agent costumes to suit individual powers. 

faceclaim  Ewan McGregor

height  5’10”

tattoos  Jesus - take a man to dinner before you dig up all his youthful indiscretions, why don’t you? 

piercings  Ears, though he doesn’t wear anything in them so much as he once did.

distinguishing features  Preference for sunglasses, even indoors, especially at night. If you’ve gotten a too-close look at his eyes at the right moment, you might have caught a peculiar red-gold gleam in the back of his pupils - a tapetum lucidum, like an animal. This is only visible in dim to dark spaces with some source(s) of light, which the tapetum reflects. 

positive traits  Creative. Passionate. Generous. Energetic. Attentive to detail. Charismatic. Kinder than he pretends to be and warmer than that sleek, sharp-edged surface suggests. 

negative traits  Critical. Volatile. Perfectionistic. A workaholic. Contrary. Weaponized bluntness. More bitter than he wishes he was and more insecure than he’s been in decades.  

labels / tropes  Power at a Price, The Mind is a Plaything of the Body, Does Not Know His Own Strength, Not Quite Back to Normal, Stepford Smiler, Gone Horribly Wrong, Control Freak, Death Glare, In With the In Crowd, Married to the Job, Not in My Contract, Big Fancy House, Brutal Honesty, Genre Savvy, Insufferable Genius, Jerk With a Heart of Gold  

likes  Making things, just the wonder of turning an idea tangible. Lately, excuses for avoiding social functions. Skyscraper and mountainside views. People-watching. Art, especially very textural pieces. 

dislikes  Failing. Delegating. Repeating himself. Fucking meditation. Animals (they tend to react oddly to him, these days). Most of the noises your average cellphone makes. Those tacky scents everyone wears too damn much of. Bright lights, the loud kind. Pressure - which he used to love, or claimed to, anyway. 

fears  Losing control (in any sense). Loneliness. Change. Being stuck. (See, contrary.) Small spaces, including crowds and corners. 

hobbies  Painting. Sculpture. Reading. Photography. Mountaineering - no, really. Swimming. Sailing. Motorcycle tours, when he has the time, which is never lately. 

habits  Smoking. Scotch. Worse things, before his “heart attack.” Hand-talking, moreso in rare casual moments. Drawing while other people talk. 

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

near death experience… 

He doesn’t want to talk about the why, okay? (Stress. Spiraling thoughts. A bad day. That’s all. That’s it. And some ill-timed cocaine, maybe, sure.) Okay. But the what, well. Virgil's near-death event was a heart attack, a very normal way for a fast-living, never-off perfectionist with bad habits to go. Only, he didn’t. His mutation erupted, saving his life… and ending a few dozen others before Cerberus agents were able to subdue the frantic, destructive creature he’d become. This was a shitty first impression for everyone involved - including his monster, which, as the R&D team at Cerberus can attest, always manifests in a state of extremely dangerous distress. It tends to head directly for the nearest way out, and will throw itself at just about anything - or anyone - that gets in the way. Just hope that’s never you.

power… 

Virgil can’t really use his abilities; he’s trying to avoid that at all, and it seems Cerberus agrees this is for the best. Any substantial stress or injury can kick off a pretty gruesome transformation into, well - something that’s not him. This mutated form will continue to mutate the longer he stays in it, reacting to the threats and circumstances it encounters - meaning the shape it takes is not entirely consistent. Based on the limited “stress testing” Cerberus attempted, it usually manifests as a chimerical Abz J. Harding grade horror. At first, it’ll be only slightly larger, overall, than Virgil; the more damage it sustains, the more it has to regenerate, the more aggressively it’ll scale up. Its strength and speed increase proportionally, and coupled with those talons and fangs, it’s well-equipped to make a mess. 

drawbacks / vulnerabilities… 

It’s all one big drawback, baby, as far as Virgil’s concerned. But to get specific, despite his regular “prescription” from Cerberus, he’s finding himself very sensitive to sensory input - bright light, loud noise, harsh smells, and some “off” tastes, in that order. So long as his power’s suppressed, he’s also prone to joint and muscle aches and general restlessness, up to and including insomnia, distractibility, and moodiness. Everything’s overwhelming, in other words. Any powers that push those buttons are going to be an issue. An EO that can actually “nudge” someone else’s powers or state of mind could be incredibly helpful or a major problem, depending which way they’re poking him - or his monster. 

If he does get to change at all, how badly he’s affected by the turn back to his usual self depends on how long it’s been and how the turn came about. He’s got limited data on this, and none of it is promising. There’s the pain, which is excruciating. And the indignity. Disorientation! Vertigo! Nausea! Especially if he ate while transformed. He has difficulty remembering what went on, and what he does recall is disjointed, filtered through a different brain and body. Other vulnerabilities include the simple fact that once he’s turned, he doesn’t seem able to think clearly or really control his actions; his monster runs on instinct, and can’t be reasoned with. Not that it tends to inspire people to try diplomacy, which is unfortunate, as it reacts very badly to violence. So, what to do? A whopping dose of force to overwhelm his regenerative abilities/metabolism and a load of sedatives is all Cerberus really has to answer this question, for now, anyway…

cerberus corp… 

Oh, no - he wasn’t “recruited.” Virgil was blackmailed, far as he’s concerned. It wasn’t like he could say no, sitting in a Cerberus Corp containment cell, faced with the hopeless-seeming horror of his situation. But as far as any of his agent “clients” know - those who didn’t respond to the disaster that started all this, at least - he’s just stopping in as a favour. Him and the founders go back, he says. And he just loves a challenge. Couldn’t resist. They’re only keeping these collaborations hush-hush for the sake of security, you see. Again, unless they were involved in containing what happened the first time his powers manifested, only high clearance Cerberus personnel would know he’s extra ordinary at all. Of course, the lower-level agents he costumes might have suspicions… especially as his mutation continues to be difficult to manage.  

codename… 

He’s heard it said around Cerberus; they have to put something on the paperwork, he supposes, and it’s better they use some ridiculous codename than his real one. If he ever hears his actual name in the mouth of a goddamn Cerberus agent, he’ll sue. That doesn’t mean he prefers that moronic sobriquet some shitheel came up with. Don’t call him that. Don’t call him anything, frankly. Forget he was ever here. 

003.  EXTRA

I’d love to put out connections for the following! THE HANDLER This is who deals with Virgil on Cerberus Corp’s behalf, arranging his “contracting” schedule and informing him of any adjustments needed to either his designs or his “prescription”; they might have been involved in corralling his monster after it first erupted, or may only be familiar with his powers through the testing notes Cerberus provides. Up to you! Either way, this is a testy dynamic to say the least. He’s been a hell of a handful for the year and change they’ve been “collaborating.” 

Please don’t hesitate to propose connections! I’ll come up with more later!

#cc.task #cc.virgil

[mossmutant]

If you have been following me and my project “Regal Rabies” please read.

I know that I don’t have many followers here on Tumblr, however I know that some folks who follow me here are also followers of mine on Instagram and other social medias where I post art.

There is going to be a change in regards to my project known as Regal Rabies.

I’ve been giving it some thought and I am going to be officially changing the title of the project (which also includes the name of the fictional organization).

I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection on not only myself but the project as well in the past few weeks. I don’t want my artwork to continue to mingle with photos and information on diseased and dying animals. It is very upsetting to see sick dogs, raccoons, and other animals when looking up Regal Rabies on here, Facebook, or other places where I'm active online. I don’t want my work to be associated with this at all. It is one of my goals for this project to one day donate a portion of profits to Mercury Phoenix Trust to help the fight against HIV/AIDS. I think it would be in poor taste to have a project with a name associated with disease under this circumstance.

So goodbye to the name Regal Rabies, it has been slain, all hail thou Monstrous Majesty!

Monstrous - Having the ugly or frightening appearance of a monster. (Applies to not only the main characters themselves but the land of Rhye)

Majesty- Royal Power (and do I even need to explain this one?)

I know that the change will take awhile to get used to, since I’ve been using the name to refer to the fictional organization since May of 2021, but it’s for the better. Usually when rabies is referred to in cartoons, it’s usually depicted as an angry, uncontrollable animal which is what I originally was going for, but the more animals I saw, the more unhappy I got. I don’t want any negative connotations for my project or do something that can come off as harmful to real animals and get in the way of information and resources for the disease.

Besides this, the former Regal Rabies which are now proudly called Monstrous Majesty will continue to be the same group of evil, bloodthirsty, goofy monsters that you know and (at least I hope) enjoy.

While Fairy King remains the same in the logo’s main design, I’m pleased with the new wording, I think it captures the dangerous essence of Rhye’s land much better than the previous one did.

I’ll also be working on a new introduction for the project with not only an updated name, but an updated description as well, and I am looking forward to it.

If you have previously purchased any prints and stickers from me with the title, thank you for supporting me along with the project. The name Regal Rabies will still be present on my art files and will be archived as a part of my artistic journey. Some artwork will be edited with the new logo and be reuploaded just to have it up to date and presentable for my portfolio. I hope to eventually order more stickers soon and I’d be more than happy to replace what I originally sent for free.

I don’t want any negative connotations for my project or do something that can come off as hurtful or harmful to animals and information.

Thank you for your reading and thank you for your support!

Monstrous Majesty © MossMutant

Illustrations © 2023 MossMutant

#cartoonist #artists on tumblr #original character #monstrous majesty #cartoon art #original art #queen band #artist #art #my art #my artwork

[disneytva]

Boons And Curses NOT Dead Yet, Probably Being Shopped To Traditional Networks After Netflix Axe Including Disney.

During The Creative Block podcast Jaydeep Hasrajani & Jake Goldman mentioned that  the axed Netflix Animation series Boons and Curses is "not dead yet"

Hinting that they might gotten the rights back to pitch it to other outlets like Warner Bros Discovery for their new service WBD+ within Cartoon Network Studios or Warner Bros Animation units, Paramount for Paramount+ or Nickelodeon within the Nickelodeon Animation Studios, MTV Animation or CBS Animation Studios units and Disney for Disney+ within Disney Television Animation,20th Television Animation and Disney Europe Animation units.

ICYMI Boons And Curses is a comedy-action animated series hailing from creator and executive producer Jaydeep Hasrajani and series co-executive producer Jake Goldman

The series was planned to release this year however the project was cancelled amid a big purge of animation at Netflix Animation from mid-2021 to current.

In the magical land of Maya, a cosmic war is on the horizon. The Raj and his monstrous army threaten to destroy any who stand against them! The universe itself hangs in the balance and our only hope is… 3 feet tall and made of butter. Claiming to be a cursed warrior from another time, Baan may have been transformed into solid ghee but he won’t let that stop him! Teaming up with Rani, a young thief with delusions of grandeur, Baan must use every arrow in his quiver if he wants to defeat the Raj. Heavily inspired by ancient South Asia,

#Boons And Curses #Jaydeep Hasrajani #Jake Goldman #Disney TVA #Disney Television Animation #20th Television Animation #Disney Europe Animation #Disney+ #Disney Plus #Cartoon Network Studios #CNS #Warner Bros Animation #HBO Max #WBD+ #WBD Plus #Paramount #Nickelodeon #Nickelodeon Animation Studios #NAS #MTV Animation #CBS Animation Studios #Paramount+ #Paramount Plus