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essektheylyss · 8 hours

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for the ask game: 🧡🖤💚

🧡: What is a popular (serious) theory you disagree with?

Until I see definitive proof that Ludinus is in fact as old as he wants people to believe he is, I will not believe it. I don't even really have an opinion on how old he is; I just don't think he's as old as he tries to suggest. And lest it be said that I am playing favorites, the thing about Ludinus is that he talks the way Essek talks in 91—and there are a lot of things Essek says at that dinner that I take with a good heaping of salt. It's this sense that they're talking around things that they would rather people not question; they're both very skilled at talking around things in a way where they aren't outright lying, but they'd rather you not think too hard about it because there's shit they're not saying. To be clear I also won't be mad if there does turn out to be some evidence in canon that he is that old, but thus far, there is nothing definitive, and I do not take the word of unreliable NPCs at face value.

🖤: Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

I don't think this is really an unpopular opinion at this point, but Jester. Nice =/= good. I don't think she's evil, by any means! But her morality is a lot more complex than it's given credit for and I think it's one of the things that is most interesting about her. I'd actually consider her largely amoral; it's just not really an axis of consideration that she worries about. She doesn't want people to hurt her or her friends and she doesn't want something to destroy the world, but otherwise she doesn't really care much about what someone's morality is. "Just don't be evil to me" is an incredible sentiment for a reason. She cares more that Essek said they were his friends than the fact that he's the traitor they've been looking for. Ludinus is so insignificant to her despite his literally world-spanning evil plots that she has basically forgotten him six years later, even though two members of her friend group have spent the last six years trying to pin him down. Jester is hilariously amoral and I love that for her.

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

[cracks knuckles] OKAY, this is where I've got receipts, because hooo boy do I have an opinion and I will be proving it.

Essek does not have an opinion on the Prime Deities. He does not really have much of an opinion on religion. He actually does not by the end of the campaign have any real issue with the Luxon, and frankly he primarily expressed issue with the Dynasty's worship because, until he got to Aeor, he wasn't certain that the Luxon was a real entity at all—which he contrasts against the Prime Deities, in fact!—and he seems to believe there is compelling evidence in Aeor that categorically disproves his hypothesis that the beacons are simply constructed Age of Arcanum devices.

Originally he is mostly concerned that the Luxon religion is used as a "crutch" which is "distracting them from what other good things they could do with the time and focus". He does specify that any religion can be used as such, but he only remarks upon the one he knows. His theory about the beacons, as of episode 91, is that they may be "artifacts designed in the Age of Arcanum that have been misread" that could be put to even further use.

He also does parrot the Dynasty party line in their first meeting about the Luxon being "the basis of how we've been able to free ourselves from the binds of the lineage the Betrayer Gods left for us", and while I do not take him at face value here (see the above commentary about unreliable NPCs), I doubt the truth of this statement is lost on him, considering his familial connections to Bazzoxan, which I can only imagine would not exactly endear one to the Betrayers, though this is only conjecture. If we do care to take him at his word here, it's not unreasonable, since he obviously has a lot more interest in the power offered by the beacons than anything else.

With all that being said, his tune on the Luxon itself has at least changed by the time they get to Aeor. He discusses iconography found in Aeor and when prompted by the Nein about whether the beacons were created by mortals, says, "I do not believe that they are made by anyone but the Luxon. They are of the Luxon. But they've been around since the Luxon's been in Exandria, which is the beginning."

So we started with him largely apathetic to religion, uncertain if this god was real, and by the time we circle back to him, he has now sided fairly definitively with the fact that the Luxon is an entity that has been around since at least the Founding. (For those keeping track at home, this is longer than Predathos has been around. In the Dynasty's creation myth, it may also have been around before the Prime Deities arrived, which is technically not incompatible with the creation myth of Exandria at large, but I digress.) Like most of Exandria, and as is perfectly reasonable for both his culture and his region, he probably doesn't have any love for the Betrayer Gods, but doesn't express much opinion if any on the Prime Deities. He has no time for religion, but frankly, he doesn't have time for much except for his own research, so it's hard to really ascribe any noted contempt to that.

Like, look, I've written plenty of religious trauma Essek fic, and I don't doubt that that element of it exists, but overall, in terms of canonical statements, it's pretty tame.

With that being said, I do want to fast forward a bit to draw attention to something else. Because I actually do think he ends the campaign with some measure of respect for, at the very least, the Wildmother.

In 140 after the Raise Dead fails, he talks briefly with Fjord about the unfairness of it. Fjord passively directs him to "if you were to ask my wise friend Caduceus..." Immediately after this exchange, Essek challenges Caleb to not accept defeat, and admits he wishes there was more that he or any of them could do, but concedes that, "Unfortunately, this type of magic is beyond my purview."

Immediately after this exchange, Caduceus asks for divine intervention.

Of course, he then spends several weeks gardening in a temple to the Wildmother, and seems to find some genuine clarity and perspective there, but I think this alone is enough to argue that, for a person as driven by empirical evidence as Essek, this sequence of events in 140 would be plenty to earn a wizard's respect.

So my formal belief is that Essek is not in fact anti-god or anti-religion, let alone against the Prime Deities. My opinion is that it's very easy to imagine him on his post-campaign travels leaving a small offering at any shrine of Melora he might pass, not out of actual worship but as a sign of respect.

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langernameohnebedeutung · 1 month

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Lae'zel's character and her entire situation at the beginning of the game becomes so much more funny when you find out she's 22. It makes so much sense. Imagine you're 22 and you're exposed to this dangerous toxin or chemical or something - but not to worry, you learnt that this can be easily fixed, you just need to dial 911 real quick. Common knowledge. Everyone knows that. You learnt that in kindergarten, it's up there with fire alarm drills.

But the people you're stuck with have no concept of modern medicine and when you say "let's go to the hospital" they will say shit like "i think they kill people at the hospital" and "we should ask this swamp lady" or "this guy over there told me about this homoeopathic healer kind of guy but he got abducted" or "this random bard wants to help" and "I'm not going to dial 911 because I don't want the government to know my home address" or "maybe we should consider a deal with Satan". And then a bunch of them KEEP consuming the chemical because it makes them "stronger". One guy might explode for unrelated reasons. You have a few days before this situation is getting critical and suddenly they're solving crime and doing general charity for the community.

And FOR SOME REASON you still try to help these idiots and you STILL want to help them get the cure even though they all keep insisting the "doctors" at the "hospital" might try to "kill them" and they don't have insurance. And you keep telling them to just. go. to. the. hospital. before the time runs out and you all die very horribly of a very treatable condition.

And also you're 22 in a foreign country and you're responsible for shepherding this gaggle of idiots who are all ranging anywhere from 24 to 240 years old.

#you have to consider the fact that she has no reason to doubt or question the Creche as the easy fix for her problems.#Go there. Get Purified. Done.#and she even wants to make sure that this lot gets treated too. Honestly she is so good to them by Gith standards it's insane #baldur's gate 3 #lae'zel

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keikakudom · 1 month

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I decided to make a HH AU cause...y'know....anyway.... now introducing

Reset Resort! A Hotelier Vox AU

- you already know, it's a hotel Vox AU.....but not quite what you're thinking. Kind of a swap between Alastor and Vox, it focuses on the butterfly effects of this single change, rather than a full reversal.

- Most things are kinda(?) the same. Except the hotel is not as run-down and quite more successful. As if S1’s hotel started with S2's reputation and building. It's also more modern/sleek and closer to your typical strip hotel. Much more busy with additional residents coming in and out. Think Vegas-style. It has way too many amenities than necessary, and it's actually an enjoyable place to hang out , but the message for "redemption" might be a bit....lost.

- It’s supposed to be a place where Sinners can (lightly) indulge in their vices without risk of falling into a soul-binding deal on their road to recovery.

- In this AU, movement between Sinners/Winners has been proven. NOT redemption yet. With this “concrete” evidence, Vox considers it "purely a business investment" to sponsor the hotel.

- Because of this "proof", Heaven has granted Hell/Charlie a grace period of an extra year with no exterminations, so long as they continue to monitor the process and Hell provides further progress and evidence of redemption.

Vox is there for the start up of the hotel with Charlie. He sponsors her project with his reach and expertise. His personality is much more subdued, his TV persona taking center stage, except for rare occasions. His temper is not as bad as in-canon. AKA, he’s much more fake and corny in this AU.

Charlie is slightly more mature and realistic in this AU. She studies redemption seriously and notes behavioral patterns/is much more patient and careful with the process. With Vox being extremely efficient and taking over the managerial/facility side of the resort, she is able to dedicate her time fully towards the redemption of sinners and being a therapist. She is still overzealous sometimes because she knows that if nobody else will show enthusiasm/push sinners to do better, then nobody will.

- Vox tried to manipulate Charlie very early on when they first met, and Charlie ended up realizing his kindness was just for his own benefit and has been wary of that fact ever since.

- Their relationship is like: she knows he’s reliable and will do everything she asks, but is doubtful/sad that he’s ingenuine. Vox thinks Charlie looks at him with pity and absolutely HATES it, but he still plays carefully so he can do a repeat and build up her trust again. Doesn't like Vaggie for a similar reason. They just think he's another misguided sinner in need. Neither have fully grasped the idea that most Sinners chose to do-evil(which he certainly has).

- Vox holds a contract with Lucifer. What for? Well... let's say that they're on good terms and are friends. They meet with each other once a week (where Lucifer gets social interaction and updates on Charlie).

I already have sketches for Alastor and Vaggie planned out in this AU~

It's less of a full "reversal" and more so one swap and the butterfly effect that follows. This AU has been my brainchild for a few weeks, so PLEASEEE I'd love to answer any questions or asks....

My AU tag is #au: reset resort

All information can be found under there! Until I make a masterpost or something.

Old design under the cut:

#hazbin hotel #my art #au: reset resort #vox #charlie

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beenbaanbuun · 2 months

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romance tropes i associate w/ ateez:

this is not proofread or formatted because i was supposed to start getting ready to leave my apartment half an hour ago and now i’m rushing lmaooo. i’ll proofread and format it when i get back from the knocked loose gig 🫶

seonghwa -bridesmaid and bestman

it’s your sisters wedding and everything is going great, except for the fact that you haven’t spoken to a single person for the past 45 minutes

you can’t help but feel a little lonely as you sit in the corner and bulldoze your way through the bottle of wine you’ve been left alone with

and then you feel a soft tap on your shoulder, and the familiar sound of a chair being dragged against the wooden floor rings through the room

you spin around just in time to see the groom’s best friend sitting down beside you, empty wine glass in hand

“nice ceremony, wasn’t it?” he says as he grabs the wine bottle and begins to pour himself a generous helping

you hum in response as you tilt your own glass towards him - he takes the hint and fills it for you

“my sister looks so pretty,” you say, and the man in front of you nods along

“not as pretty as the maid of honour, though,” he responds, “i couldn’t quite believe it when i spotted her all alone in the corner with no one taking care of her.”

you giggle in response to his obvious flirting - two can play at that game

“so you decided to come and snatch me up for yourself, did you?”

he nods with a straight face, but you can see the teasing glint in his eye

“of course,” he responds, “i’m not leaving your side until i’ve either got a dance from you, or i have your number in my phone.”

he smiles wide at you, and you can’t help but smile back

“well you’re handsome enough for me to consider giving you both,” he chuckles at your words, “but the question is which one do you want first?”

he offers you his hand

“i think i’ll take the dance.”

hongjoong - blind date

it seems your mum has finally grown fed up of you showing up to every family event empty handed

which is precisely how you end up standing outside one of the most notoriously expensive restaurants in your neighbourhood

it’s where your blind date suggested, and despite your incessant denial, your mother had accepted on your behalf

you walk inside, a sour look on your face as the host steps forward to ask for your reservation

“i think his name was hongjoong?” you sigh, “he told me to meet him here at 8 for a blind date…”

the woman’s eyes go wide and she smiles at you, the words ‘lucky bitch’ falling from her tongue before she can even stop them

“hardly,” you respond as she guides you through the fancy place, “i don’t even want to be here…”

your voice trails off as she slows down and stops at a table with a man already seated on one of the chairs

you thank the woman as you sit down; she sends you a quick wink in return before darting off to no doubt gossip with the other staff members

and then you turn your attention to the man before you to see he’s already looking at you with wide eyes

“you’re my date?” he asks, to which you nod in response, “shit! when my friend set this up i wasn’t expecting someone so pretty.”

your face heats up at his compliment

“oh, uh, thank you,” you stutter out, “likewise, i guess. my mum organised it on my behalf; i thought it would be some stiff-necked guy that thinks too highly of himself.”

“you’re happy with me, then?” he smiles

“very happy…”

yunho - brothers best friend

“i don’t care that he’s here, i’m just asking why?” you whisper to your mum as you watch yunho and your brother mess around in the pool

it’s spring break, and whilst you certainly don’t mind the addition of the tall dancer, you hadn’t been allowed to bring a friend of your own

“it was last minute honey,” you mum replies, “his parents are half-way through a divorce and i wanted to help take his mind off of it!”

you suppose that’s as good of a reason as any, but that still feel cheated

suddenly you hear a yell from the water, and a whole load of splashing; you turn your attention to the pool to see yunho swimming to your brother who has a hand covering his nose

“nosebleed?” your mum called over to the boys; they nod, “i know where the first aid kit is. come on!”

your brother climbs out of the pool and follows your mum inside, leaving the pool area in an awkward silence

“you know you’re never going to get a tan sitting in the shake like that,” yunho breaks it with a laugh, “you should move to this subbed over here.”

you quirk your brow at him as you see him point to the one right by the pool

“you mean the one that gives you access to stare at me?”

he shrugs, “i’m just looking out for you, kiddo.”

you scoff at the nickname; he’s always called you that despite the age gap being almost non-existent

“don’t call me that when you’re flirting with me, yun.”

“why?” he says with a smirk, “would you rather i called you baby?”

yeosang - soulmates

it had been a slow morning in the cafe, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it had given you a lot of time to think about your soulmate mark which is burning where it sits on your wrist

KYS, it reads, which you would find funny if it was scrawled on someone else’s wrist

the subreddit you’d spent most of your morning surreptitiously scrolling through says it means you’ll meet your soulmate soon

you’ll believe that when you see it…

“‘scuse me?” a voice rips you out of your mindless doomscrolling and you quickly put a smile on your face and look up at the man at the counter

your sure your smile looks more like a grimace with how bad the mark has started burning on your wrist

“welcome,” you stutter out, “what can i get for you?”

he studies the menu which gives you the perfect opportunity to study the pretty man in front of you

you can’t help but notice his hand gripping at his opposite wrist in the exact same place your own soul mark it hurting

“an americano,” he eventually stutters out, “iced and medium, please.”

you nod, grabbing a cup and a marker pen, “can i take a name?”

“yeosang,” he replies and your soul mark burns even more, “but you can just write KYS if it’s easier.”

you pause for a second; was the subreddit right?

“KYS?” you mutter to yourself, “this sounds crazy, but can i show you something?”

he shrugs and you take it as an ‘okay’, so you tug up your sleeve to reveal the three letters on your arm

san - strangers-to-lovers

the gym, also known as your own personal hell; it’s funny that you’ve somehow ended up there in a saturday morning

you’re not even sure how in all honesty, and as you stare into the vast space filled with nothing but men and metal, you feel a little intimidated

still, it’s too late to turn back now so you take a few unsure steps into the room, halting at a piece of equipment that looks more like a torture device

“how the-” you mutter to yourself, but get cut off when a tall man walks up beside you

“are you using this thing?” he asks, and you turn your attention to him, “it’s just its next in my routine, but i don’t mind waiting if you’re already using it.”

you shake your head as you stare at him, feeling a little more than slightly intimidated

he’s tall, buff and hot, not to mention that he clearly knows what he’s doing in the gym

“you can go,” you stutter, “i, uh, i’m not too sure how to use it myself; i’m new to all this.”

his face light up at your confession, the stoic expression melting into something sweeter, more excited

“you’re serious?” he beams at you, “that’s so cool! i’m proud of you for starting your gym journey.”

you shrug, not really knowing how to reply; the man seems to have no issue carrying on the conversation for you, though

“my names san,” he sticks out a hand which you take out of politeness, “if you want you can take my number; i’m here most days so if you ever want someone to work out with…”

you think it over for a few seconds before deciding ‘what the hell?’ the man is attractive and seems genuinely enthusiastic to get to know you

might as well get something positive out of this whole gym thing, right?

mingi - fake boyfriend

you’d always spend winter break alone, which was never a pleasant thing when spending the season with your family

this year, however, you decided things would be different

it turns out a friend of a friend wasn’t actually going home for the holidays

and with the promise of free food he was actually pretty easy to convince to be your pretend boyfriend for the season

you spent days upon days creating some sort of believable story to tell your family, as well as learning everything there is to know about eachother

the plan was seamless, and on your first evening in your family home, the two of you had done a spectacular job at convincing your entire family

but there was just one little detail the two of you hadn’t foreseen, and now as you stand in your room it finally sinks in

“i can sleep on the floor,” you suggest, “you take the bed; you’re the guest, afterall.”

mingi shakes his head

“i might be a guest, but i’m still a gentleman,” he refuses, and you can’t help but laugh

“i’ve learned enough about you to know that you are anything but a gentleman, mingi.”

“well you’re hardly a perfect little princess yourself,” he can’t help but chuckle in response

you hum in agreement, but soon fall back into silence as you try and work out some sort of solution to the one-bed problem

“we could just share?” you suggest after a second or two

he cocks his brow at you

“you’d be okay with that?” you just shrug in response before crawling into your bed and patting the mattress next to you

“come on in before i change my mind.”

wooyoung - rivals-to-lovers

you stare at the F at the top of your page, a flurry of emotions rushing through you

you’d never gotten anything below a C before and now all of a sudden you’ve failed?

sure you’d taken a little bit of a backseat when you were studying for this exam, but you were almost certain you knew enough of the material to at least get a B

yet you’d failed

you feel a presence walk up behind you and you sigh; you’d recognise the sound of those cocky little footsteps anywhere

“i’m not in the mood, wooyoung,” you grumble, hoping it would deter your rival for just a little while

“why not?” he teases as he walks up beside you, “are you really that sure i’ve beaten you?”

you don’t reply, but by the way he gasps, you can tell he’s already caught sight of your failure; you sigh, waiting for what’s about to come

“you… failed?” his voice is soft, not an ounce of teasing in his tone, “dude, that’s- i- are you alright?”

perhaps it’s the lack of cruelness in his voice, you’re not sure, but you feel the need to be vulnerable with him

“not really,” you shake your head, “i don’t know what happened.”

an awkward hand finds its way to your shoulder, fingers lightly tapping a pattern against your back

“i can help you if you want?” he suggests, “like, i don’t know, tutor you or something?”

you finally look at him, purely to check whether or not he’s joking

his face is serious though, and that kind of stumps you

“why would you do that for me?” he just shrugs

“i like our little rivalry,” if you look closely you can see a dusting of pink over his cheeks, “i think it’s cute when you get all angry at me for beating you, or when you’re all smug when you do better… we can’t have that if you’re getting F’s.”

jongho - friends-to-lovers

you walk out of your exam with a frown on your face; saying that it went bad would be an understatement

all you want to do is crawl up into a ball and forget about life for a while, but then you spot him

“jongho,” you yell, pulling his attention away from his phone

with a grin he slides it into his back pocket, opening his arms for you to give him a running hug

you take the opportunity, slamming into his chest at full force; he wastes no time in folding his arms around you

“how’d it go?” he asks as he begins to sway your conjoined bodies from side to side

“oh, it went horribly,” you admit, “i’m going to go home and eat an obscene amount of ice cream to make me feel better.”

he nods at your suggestion

“you could,” he agrees, “or we could go to that one cafe and pretend to get engaged so we get free desert?”

you can’t help but look up at him with furrowed brows

“engaged?” you cant lie that the idea makes your heart flutter, “what happened to the birthday meta?”

it’s a valid question; the two of you normally go to a cafe and tell the staff it’s your birthday so you can share the desert

engagement is a new one, but you’re willing to hear him out

“well,” he begins, face falling into full seriousness, “if you think about it, we only get one desert when we use the birthday meta; my hypothesis is that we get two deserts if we claim we’re engaged.”

you consider his reply for a few seconds

“fair argument,” you hum, “counterpoint; do you not think they’ll give us just the one desert for ‘romantic’ purposes? you know, feed each other with a spoon, type shit.”

jongho just shrugs

“i’m fine with that if you are.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez reactions

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esyra · 7 months

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These days, I have long debated what to write regarding Palestine-Israel, and questioned why I should write anything at all. The idea that celebrities and the loudest chronically online people you've ever met, blessed in their ignorance and indifferent to livehoods different than theirs, feel the need to opinate on social and geopolitical issues is absolutely insane. Most of the time, they do more harm than good—spreading misinformation like wildfire. Such opinions are what convinced me to ultimately talk about it.

Rest assured I'm not particularly qualified to talk about any of this, then again no one seems (or tries) to be. This is not a statement, simply questions about selected nuance. Full disclosure: I am of Palestinian descent. And I tried my hardest to be all-encompassing and empathetic; if I fail at any moment, my sincerest apologies.

All around social media I've seen only two kinds of posts regarding Palestine and Israel; they're either completely favorable to Israel and dehumanize Palestine or they treat Palestines as a footnote, in which it's made to assure its author doesn't endorse murder but also to point out that Palestine "deserve what's coming." There's a certain nuance required to support Palestine that's not asked when supporting Israel.

I've seen Jamie Lee Curtis reposting a picture of Palestinian children watching Israelis air strikes as if they were of Israeli children. There's no doubt it was a malicious-intended post considering she credited the photographer while deleting the original caption which explicitly explained who the ones pictured were. After being severely corrected in the comments, she simply deleted and made no mention of it. Guess children don't matter if they're Palestinian. I've seen way too many celebrities responding to the conflict with worries about how they might be affected by it, as self-centered and selfish as you can imagine.

I've seen a journalist claim that 40 Israeli babies were beheaded and multiple newspapers (many of them British, because what else can you expect from them?) and public figures reposting as a fact, only for the same journalist to later claim she actually "never said that" (she absolutely did). Also the IDF explaining they have no information confirming the allegations that 'Hamas beheaded babies'. I've seen people using statements from Sabra and Shatila massacre survivors and trying to rewrite Palestine, which were the victims of said crime, as the perpetrators. I've seen people using videos of Russian attacks as Palestinian ones. I've seen a British journalist fabricating a harmful statement from a Palestinian Ambassador to help dehumanize Palestine, and being proud of such. I've seen BBC using the nuances of language to their liking, reporting how Israelis were 'killed' while Palestinians 'died'. Always heard journalists avoid adjectives in favor of being unbiased. Again, guess that's unimportant when it comes to Palestine. Most of all, I've seen people equate supporting Palestine to anti-semitism.

If that belief steams that Palestine and Hamas are one-and-the-same, and the latter is a anti-semitism organization, then that's another concern I'd like to add the recently appraised 'nuance'.

Hamas first appeared during the first intifada, a Palestinian uprising against Israeli occupation of the West Bank, Gaza, and East Jerusalem. The signing of the Oslo Accords in 1993 marked the end of the uprising—an agreement between Israel and Palestine meant to lay the groundwork for the formation of a Palestinian state alongside Israel. Instead, it has erased Palestine's recognition as a State. In its history, Hamas have equate the liberation of Palestinians with the destruction of Israel, likely the reason they're a highly divisive organization that has often been at oddens with more mainstream Palestinian politicians. However, Hamas backtracked on its aims in a 2017 proclamation, making it clear that what it wants is to end a “racist, anti-human and colonial Zionist project.” In its 16th topic, they state "Hamas affirms that its conflict is with the Zionist project not with the Jews because of their religion. Hamas does not wage a struggle against the Jews because they are Jewish but wages a struggle against the Zionists who occupy Palestine."

The description of the Israeli occupation as fascist most likely comes from the similarities of Palestine to an "open air prison". They have no control of their own borders (IDF controls who and what enters or leaves) and are deemed stateless. "In defiance of international law, Israel considers all Palestinians inhabitants of the occupied Palestinian territory as non-citizens and foreign residents." Meaning if they leave their territory, they won't be allowed back in. Their rights in the Arab World are uncertain, particularly in Lebanon and Egypt where they are denied rights to secure residency, employment, property, communal interaction and family unification. Procedures to allow non-residents to apply for naturalisation in Lebanon, Egypt and Saudi Arabia do not apply to stateless Palestinians. So while those asking for Palestinians to be evacuated for their safety certainly have noble intentions, I ask of you: where they will go? Can you imagine walking away from home knowing you're heading into nothing? What's the difference between living in the rumbles of their homes and being homeless in another country?

The ones who decide to stay (and the ones unable to leave) are likely not making it for much longer. According to the United Nations, roughly 6,400 Palestinians and 300 Israelis have been killed in the ongoing conflict since 2008, not counting the recent fatalities. Is it truly a war if one side is so overpowering in its resources and retaliations? I feel the need to point out these stats to question why the notion that "violence is never the answer" is only used now. When it has been the only response until now.

Then again, Hamas remains a polarizing force in Palestinian society. They're an organization that's slaughtering families and less than a third of Palestinians think the group deserves to represent them. There has not been an opportunity, however, for elections to change their representatives. Palestinians living in Gaza must endure an unstable political reality with an unrepresentative government implementing repressive policies against LGBTQ people and abusive policies against detainees. Israel's Prime Minister Netanyahu purposefully propped up Hamas and there has been speculation that Iran has supported them. I've seen many post as if it's a fact, so I'd like to reinforce that it's speculation. In essence, Hamas is a terrorist group with questionable history and even more questionable allies. None of which has the Palestine's best interests at heart.

This has been overly long, and I still haven't touched on all topics I wished to address. Some I probably couldn't express properly since it's such a complex geopolitical issue. Then again, no one seems to try while all seem very comfortable in being as biased as they wish to be. So I thought I add my compassionate two cents in favor of Palestine and all the years of oppresion they've endured. I still hope you'll read this to the end, and extended to Palestine the same sympathetic hand you've rightfully extended to Israeli citizens.

My heart aches for the innocent people murdered, Palestinian and Israeli. Settlers aren’t innocent, but people who were born there didn't really choose to be one. Jewish people following matters of faith don't deserve to die. No one has (or should have) the right to take someone's life away. People at the Gaza Strip that are either just trying to survive or attempting to protect their homes also don't deserve to die, as flawed as their logic and actions might be, and many are missing that nuance. The denial of food, water, and medical aid, violates the Geneva convention. And it's a kind of retaliation that Palestine in its entirety will never be able to match.

Currently, the Israeli government is preparing a ground invasion of Gaza. An anonymous Israeli official said they would turn Gaza into “a city of tents.” A parliamentarian said that Israel should not concern itself with the safety of any Gazans who “chose” to stay in the Gaza Strip, as if every crossing hasn't been blocked.

Soon, the 'war' will end. And when it does, I can assure you Palestine won't be the last one standing. They've never had a real chance. I'd like to remember everyone that, despite Netanyahu's claims that they are "human animals", Palestinians are human beings. People. All of which deserve to live, deserve compassion and deserve protection. They also deserve to be remembered.

#palestine #israel #hamas

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upon-a-starry-night · 1 month

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Number neighbors Pt.28

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

You wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was regularly paranoid, but recently you've been more than a little on edge. You’d given the man at the market the benefit of the doubt, chalking his appearance up to going to the marketplace when the weather was the most reasonable- like you’d been doing, but that doesn’t explain the Suvs.

You don’t know how long they’ve been following you for, you’d been so stuck in your own world that you’d barely been paying attention to your surroundings but after Saturday you’ve been more cautious of your surroundings and that’s when you noticed the black Suv.

You don’t know if it’s the same one every time, they’ve always kept a far enough distance and you haven't been able to catch a license plate but they appear every so often when you go out. The windows are tinted far too dark to be legal so you can’t see inside but you occasionally find them parked outside of buildings you frequent and it’s starting to worry you.

You don’t want to worry your friends or your mom who would buy a ticket out there first thing though, so you keep to yourself and try to keep a distance from the cars and the marketplace (it’s a devastating loss to not have Gladys’ pastries on hand)

On top of that, everyone has been on edge because of the disappearance of most of the Avengers. As far as you know, Stark, Clint, Banner, and that Spider kid are the only ones still in New York which has civilians asking questions about where the others are and why they left.

The anxiety from the lack of heroes has everyone grilling the government for answers, especially considering the fact that the crime rate has gone up just from petty criminals getting too cocky. Due to the constant heat The government has been under, they stated that they’ll issue a public service announcement in a week to explain the situation and you can practically feel the country buzzing with anticipation.

The situation makes you think of Nat and you wonder if her “not FBI job” has something to do with this and is the reason why she’s disappeared. You hope she knows wherever she is that you would’ve understood if she’d just explained the situation to you- but maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she was under some kind of NDA that could put her in danger.

Despite avoiding the marketplace you still get the feeling that you’re being watched and it makes you uneasy. You feel like you’re hallucinating with how often you see shadows moving somewhere nearby. You’re never able to catch a glimpse of anyone who might resemble the market man but the fear is enough to have you staying a few nights at your friend's house.

The Suv’s don’t appear for a while after the move and it allows you a small moment of reprieve. You push the lingering feeling of constant observance to the back of your mind despite your brain telling you to be on guard.

The stress of the situation is so tremendous you don’t even realize you’ve been forgetting to leave voicemails for Nat until your mom calls asking why you haven’t called her in a while. You don’t bring up the stalkers to avoid giving her a heart attack but you do tell her about the amount of stress you’ve been under and the toll it’s been taking on you.

It feels so good to talk about it that you don’t even realize you’re crying until your mother's concerned voice is comforting you through the speaker. God, it was like the universe couldn’t give you a break lately. You hope whatever they’re putting you through all of this for is worth it.

“Come home for a while, Y/n. it sounds like you need a break, I’ll take care of you.” The dismissal of her offer is on the tip of your tongue but the more you mull it over the more you think it might be a good idea. With the city on edge, the growing crime rate, and your new potential stalkers, getting away from the city is probably the best thing you could do right now.

Much to your mother's surprise, you agree and her excitement at having you come home has you smiling on your end of the receiver. The two of you spend the next hour looking for an affordable last minute and you find a plane that leaves in two days that the two of you agree on. It’s probably not nearly enough appropriate notice for time off but your boss agrees anyway and within the hour you’ve got plans to spend a week at your mother's out of town.

It’s the first vacation you’ve taken in a while and even if it was just going home you find yourself more excited than you’d been in at least a month. You hadn’t been this excited since-

Nat. You hadn’t been this excited since you were supposed to meet Nat.

It probably didn’t matter to her that you were going out of town, it wasn’t like she was getting your voicemails anyway but- what if she showed up while you were gone? You shake your head, the possibility of that was slim to none and if she did come back while you were gone she’d just have to wait like she’d made you wait.

Still, she deserved to know about the kid on the skateboard you watched run into a pole earlier today, at least. You listen for the tale-tell sound of the beep after the long too-familiar ringing and you find yourself subconsciously smiling as you tell her random snippets from your week.

The breakfast your friend treated you to, the new show you started, the fair that got canceled due to raccoons breaking in to eat all the cotton candy. You avoid talking about the stalkers like you’d done with everyone else but you frown when the news channel starts covering another attempted bank robbery.

Despite your own safety being in jeopardy you can’t help but worry for her wherever she may be, causing you to voice the thought, the humor in your tone replaced with a solemn resolve

“wherever you are… I hope you’re safe.” You shake your head, attempting to clear your mind from the restless thoughts in your mind “Anyway, sorry I know that was a lot- all that to say I miss you and I love you. Bye!”

You don’t even realize what you’ve said until 10 seconds later and you frantically press whichever number was supposed to delete the message.

Shit.

It was such a force of habit to end your phone calls with an I love you. You can’t believe you almost confessed to Nat over the phone. Moreover, you’re freaked out by how much the words didn’t feel like a lie. If you were honest you’d been avoiding putting a label on your emotions because you were scared of how serious they were getting but apparently your brain had already decided for you.

Love.

You loved Nat.

You Love Nat.

Fuck.

Your mind reels with the newfound discovery and you’re grateful you deleted the message before it would be stuck in her voicemail for her to one day hear. Your head's a mess as you set your phone down on the counter and go to pack up your stuff, you had a trip to get ready for and a relationship to overanalyze to try and pinpoint when you and Nat had gone from total strangers to you being in love with her.

It all made sense now, the heartache, the worrying, the underlying tension between the two of you

It was just your luck that you’d discover you love her when you can’t even tell her. You’re so in your head with your emotions and figuring out what to pack that you don’t even register the sound of your phone’s female electronic voice as it declares

“Voicemail sent”

Pt.29

A/n: Classic mistake, Y/n, I’m sure everyone’s done that! Don’t worry it’s not like she can hear your voicemails or anything…or uhhh ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime

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percheduphere · 5 months

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LET’S TALK ABOUT EXPLORING LOKI & MOBIUS THROUGH THE LENS OF QUEER EXPERIENCE

Thank you for this request, @nabananab

Before I dig into this juicy ask, I think it’s important to note (however obvious the fact maybe) that an individual’s unique engagement with art is an inherent and integral part of art. The intention of the artist and the sociopolitical influence of culture, while important in our interpretation of a work, are not the sole source of drawing the work’s meaning. We are all artists in one form or another. I consider myself one of the pen, and nothing is more important to me than art giving someone a sense of emotional connection. I should hope other artists would agree, and for this reason I am an ardent believer in art taking on a life of its own once it has been created. The creator’s word, while it matters to some degree, does not supersede an individual’s relationship with the creation. Our histories, our desires, our fears, our likes, our dislikes, indeed our infiniteness as fragile human beings, allow us to create an elevated, spiritual interpretation beyond the confines of original intent. With art, there is no such thing as “reaching” or “reading too deeply”.

I leave this message with all of you as we look at these beloved characters through the lens of queer experience.

LOKI

Culture influences what we see and hear, which in turn influences artistic portrayal. Setting aside Norse myth, Marvel’s Loki is a classic example of a queer-coded villain (later canonized as a queer antihero). Deception, daggers, sexual temptation, transformation, and magic are all culturally tied to the “immoral” facets of femininity. Just as a strong, independent woman untethered to the control of man is deemed a “wicked woman”, a man demonstrating gender ambiguity and like qualities is similarly judged. Only masculinity is viewed as pure and good, and this no doubt was—and continues to be—a key force in white, western colonization’s destructiveness. It all but crushed our rich global history of divine femininity, gender diversity, and romantic and sexual expression.

Asgard, as Marvel portrays it, is without a doubt a masculine-dominant warrior society. Only two women feature prominently: Queen Frigga and Lady Sif. Whereas Sif embraces her masculine qualities and fits in easily with Thor and the Warriors Three, Queen Frigga embraces her feminine powers, though her authority is submissive to the All-Father, Odin. Her influence is most heavily seen in her adopted son, Loki, with whom she shared and taught magic in hopes that Loki might “feel some sun on himself” despite the “long shadows [Thor] and [Odin]” cast. The magic that Frigga gifts Loki, however, attracts scorn. The subtext here is that Loki’s specialness, his individuality, comes from feminine powers despite presenting as a man, and a gender ambiguous one at that. Unlike Thor and Odin, he is not masculine. While strong, he does not exhibit Thor’s brute strength. He is cautious, thoughtful, another feminine quality, whereas Thor’s courageousness often veers toward foolhardy and brash.

Thus, if Loki cannot be loved and accepted as he is (a queer person of another race), he will force love and acceptance through the power of the throne. Kings oft inspire fear, coercing subjects to love them whether they wish to or not. But we know Loki never truly wanted the throne. The throne is a mere distraction from, perhaps even a poor replacement for, what he truly wants: genuine love and acceptance that cannot be bought. Unfortunately, Loki believes he will never get these things, which is why, when Mobius questions him, Loki’s desire for control (Loki, King of the Midgard; Loki, King of the Nine Realms; Loki, King of Space) can never be satiated. Mobius challenges Loki for the exact purpose of revealing this to him. What do you really want? At this point, Loki does not have the words to form an answer. In S2E5, Syvlie raises the question Mobius originally asked in S1E1. It is then, after experiencing Mobius’s friendship and the other relationships that come to being as a result (including Sylvie’s), that Loki can articulate his answer.

Loki’s othering, even before the discovery of his true identity as a Jotun (an allegory for a villainized foreign race), creates a lonely environment in which Loki’s potential for goodness is quashed by centuries of resentment, bitterness, and jealousy. His attempts at masculinity take the form of violence, all of which are, as Loki admits in S1E1, “part of the illusion; the cruel elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”

Loneliness and the desire for love and acceptance are a universal human experience, but they are felt far more acutely within our intersectional queer communities.

MOBIUS

His fascination with Loki is compelling because there are many things we can infer about its reasons. The first, most obvious explanation is Mobius’s “soft spot for broken things”, which is in some ways tied to his qualities as a compassionate, forgiving, and supportive father. A secondary explanation is a wish for partnership. We know from S1 that Mobius’s friendship with Ravonna spanned eons. We later learn in S2E6 that he and Ravonna started out as peers, hunters. They were partners on the field, but where Mobius “failed” because of his humanity, Ravonna “advanced” because of her ruthlessness. This change in relational dynamics left him partner-less. Finally, a third, less obvious reason is Mobius’s desire to express himself in ways Loki does so effortlessly. That desire may come from the suppression and repression of his own softspoken queerness in order to survive the fascist culture of the TVA.

Mobius is captivating for many reasons. Whereas Loki is a textbook example of culture viewing “queerness as evil”, “queerness as flamboyance”, “queerness as stylishness”, “queerness as loudness”, “queerness as sexual promiscuity and deviance”, “queerness as chaos”, Mobius very much aligns with the image of a straight-passing, repressed queer individual. This is an identity that does not get as much attention or presence in artistic media as it deserves, for there are many who need this representation to reflect them. He is not stereotypically queer by any means: he is not colorful. He is not stylish, flamboyant, or loud. His sex appeal primarily derives from the viewers’ attraction to his personality, though it certainly helps that Owen Wilson is quite handsome.

Combine these three reasons, and it becomes easy to see how a character (or person!) like Mobius might fall in love with a character (or person!) like Loki.

There is a certain amount of beautiful irony in how Loki and Mobius affect one another and consequently their identities. Mobius, feeling compassion toward an individual who has been brutally othered and oppressed, seeks to free Loki from the confines of his narrative, as determined by the “Time Keepers”. The only feasible way to do this is to bring a variant of Loki out of the timeline and into the TVA. Mobius then provides Loki with the opportunity to change by: acknowledging Loki’s strengths, giving Loki the chance to use his strengths in productive ways, praising Loki when he does well, listening to Loki, believing in Loki, calling out Loki, and accepting Loki as he is, with all his history, without judgement. Mobius does not try to force change like Thor or Odin. Rather, he creates an environment in which change could happen naturally. This kindness and, indeed, what becomes unconditional love by the end of S1E4, allows Loki to embrace his authentic queerness with self-love and use his feminine powers for altruism rather than masking them with self-hatred and masculine rage.

FREEING LOKI

In S1E1, Mobius is enthralled with Loki’s hijinks as the handsome, charming, devil-may-care, D.B. Cooper. This minor escapade in Loki’s life, which was likely only intended for laughs by the writer, reveals something interesting about Mobius: Loki’s mischievousness, his magic, his cunning, are all quite endearing to him when no real harm is being inflicted. That is, Loki, when not under duress, is someone to be admired when he’s being himself. We admire in people what we wish we had in ourselves, and this, at times, may lead to powerful attraction.

Loki, for his part, does much the same for Mobius. The environment (the TVA) which allowed Loki to thrive is also the same environment that has abused and constrained Mobius.

The heat that Ravonna presses upon Mobius, however, changes his tone with Loki himself. When Loki asks Mobius why he “[sticks] his neck out for [him]”, Mobius provides Loki with two options to choose from: “A. He sees a scared little boy shivering in the cold, or B. He will say whatever he needs to say to get the job done”. Option A, while insulting, has compassion layered beneath the barb. Loki, an expert at cloaking truth with meanness, sees through this and indirectly chooses what he believes to be true in the cafeteria scene: that Mobius feels sympathy for Loki’s painful childhood. The subtext of this acknowledgement is that the true means to the end is reversed: Mobius doesn’t need Loki to catch the Variant on the timelines. Mobius needs the Variant to free Loki from the timelines. The Variant is an excuse and another agent of poetic irony: when Sylvie unleashes the multiverse, she literally frees Loki of his predetermined narrative.

The conceit of S1E1 is that Mobius intends to use Loki for the “good” of the Sacred Timeline. It is important to remember that characters, while not real, are meant to mirror human complexity. Multiple, seemingly conflicting things may be true concurrently. In S1E2, we see in Mobius’s conversations with Ravonna that he deeply believes in Loki’a capacity to be a wonderful person and wants him to have the opportunity to change. His enthusiasm for these things outshines his desire to catch Sylvie.

And, because the Variant is Loki, because Sylvie is Loki, because, as she says, “[they] are the same”, Mobius’s own freeing of Loki, his unconditional love for him, cascades from Loki to Sylvie. Sylvie would not be free to live as she pleases if not for Mobius’s compassion for Loki in the first place.

In S1E4, Loki reveals the TVA’s sham. Mobius’s sense of self becomes fragile alongside his sense of partnership with Loki. But because of our sociopolitical culture’s influence on capitalism, the creative voices of the Loki series self-censures what could be (what is) a queer romance. This self-censureship makes itself known in Mobius’s own self-censureship. His jealousy and heartbreak cannot be spoken directly. It must be spoken through the words of a woman, someone who presents as the opposite sex. Through a looping memory of a scornful Sif telling Loki, “You are alone and always will be”, Mobius makes known the nature of his feelings for him.

BUT WHO WILL FREE MOBIUS?

In the same cafeteria scene in S1E2, Loki asks Mobius if he’s ever ridden a jet ski. Mobius’s response is demure, saying him riding one would “cause a branch for sure”. The jet ski gives the audience another clue as to what Mobius seeks in life: something fun, thrilling, and reckless. Yet Mobius sets aside his desires for what he believes is for the good of the TVA, and thus humanity. This suppression and repression of authentic selfhood mirrors the queer experience of living within a heteronormative culture, especially one with religious doctrines that equate pleasure with sinfulness.

Because Mobius extended his heart, his partnership, his love (symbolized by twin daggers hidden in his locker [a closet]; notably a male phallic symbol of which there are a pair [partners]) and was soundly rejected, Mobius retaliates with the loneliness he himself feels. This loneliness may be interpreted as an allegory for the loneliness of being closeted as opposed to the loneliness of being out but othered.

Ultimately, Mobius’s love for Loki shifts from selfish desire to unconditional love when he chooses to help Loki save Sylvie. In S1E5, it is conspicuous that after delivering Sylvie safely to Loki’s side, Mobius’s partings words are, “Guess you got away again”, to which Loki replies, “I always do”, which echos the lover’s trope of “the one that got away”.

[It drives me absolutely bananas that I can't find the specific gif I need when I literally saw it multiple times earlier this week but didn't need it THEN]

Owen’s acting choice is interesting here. He laughs, smiles, then looks down before looking up again, his eyes shifting from fondness to what feels like longing. Mobius extends his hand, a sensible choice for someone who believes his love is unrequited and is unsure of how Loki defines their relationship. Loki, appreciating what Mobius has done for him, closes the distance with an embrace and thanks Mobius for his friendship.

In S2E1, upon Loki’s time-slipping into the war room, whatever apprehensions Mobius had about physical contact was wiped away by the collapse of the TVA and the memory of Loki’s hug. In this scene, it becomes clear to Mobius that Loki is panicking. He makes the executive decision to use his physical contact as a grounding force, relocates Loki to a quiet environment, asks after Sylvie with no bitterness in his voice, then prioritizes Loki’s physical well-being. Perhaps, in Mobius’s view, his love is unrequited, but there is nothing in place to stop him from expressing that love more freely while honoring Loki’s feelings for Sylvie. This regard, which may be construed as platonic, may also be viewed romantic, courtly love.

The fight between Loki and Sylvie in S1E6 sets the stage for Mobius to receive Loki and become a refuge for heartbreak.

S2E2 and S2E3 has Loki’s and Mobius’s temperaments when it comes to investigating flipped. In S1, Mobius was focused on the mission and often had to reign in Loki. In S2, Mobius is more casual, more willing to take his time and enjoy the sleuthing as it unfolds, while Loki administers pressure to stay focused. The question is why?

In S2E2, Brad attacks Mobius’s sense of self. He points out how weird it is that Mobius is not at all curious about looking at his timeline and stresses that the TVA, and everything in it, isn’t real. Brad calls into question Mobius’s reason for staying. Knowing that the answer is Loki, we can surmise through the queer lens that Brad also corners Mobius into potentially outing himself in front of the object of his affections, someone he believes does not return his feelings, and whose knowledge of those feelings may threaten their friendship. This is a traumatic experience for queer people in the real world, and this extra layer of emotional conflict adds depth to Mobius’s violent response.

Mobius influenced Loki in a myriad of ways. One that has not been discussed yet is an appreciation for focus and order. Loki, in turn, has cracked the door open for Mobius to explore pleasure. We can speculate that, in his own way, Mobius is testing what happiness could look like living a life between the TVA and the timelines. For him, this means cocktails at the theater, cracker jacks, and exploring the World’s Fair, all of which are pleasurable on their own but are even more so with Loki’s company. His queerness, once again, is quiet, mundane, but playful in its own right, and finally brave enough to explore. These scenes suggest that Mobius is indeed happy at the TVA and, as we see in the finale, this happiness is solely rooted in his relationship with Loki and the emotional intimacy they share together.

Loki expresses concern for Mobius, noting that he has “never seen him like that before.” Mobius, interestingly, deflects every concern by absurdly blaming Loki: “He got under your skin”, “I was following you!” The psychological undercurrent here is that Loki is the reason why Brad got under Mobius skin. Loki is the person that Mobius will follow.

Loki takes Mobius’s distress in stride, responding in a way the Mobius normally would. However, Brad’s question piques his interest, and his own care for Mobius prompts him to gently challenge Mobius’s lack of interest in his own timeline. Mobius’s reason for avoidance is, “What if it’s something good?”

In S2E5, it’s interesting that “good” in this narrative is defined as a heteronormative fantasy of a house, two kids, and (possibly) a puppy and a snake. The “good” in Mobius’s original timeline, however, is imperfect. There is a partner that is missing (partners being a recurring theme in the series, particularly in S2E3), pronounced gone not once but twice. The entire scene between Don and Loki has been discussed at length by many, so there’s no need to reiterate it here. However, let’s bring our attention to Mobius’s avoidance of this “good” because this avoidance resonates with another queer experience.

The TVA, for Mobius, is the place where he studied, saved, and developed a close relationship with Loki. The fear of the “something good” is the fear of being confronted with something Mobius “should” want more than the TVA, and therefore “should” want more Loki. The fear is wanting something (or feeling pressured to want something) other than a queer relationship with no children. The question of “choice” is impacted by what is considered the “norm”.

S2E5 very pointedly focuses on the concern of choice, especially Mobius’s choice, in the bar scene between Loki and Sylvie. “Mobius should get a choice now, no?” At this point, Loki’s regard for Mobius has finally caught up with the romantic nature of Mobius’s feelings for him. And Loki, living his own queer experience, is also afraid of his true desires like Mobius. In being part of the intersectional queer community, the psychological need to guard against disappointment is high and commonplace. Desires are easily disappointed by the expectations of oppressive social mores. This survival tactic manifests itself with our hope and heartbreak with mainstream media, Loki the series being among them.

But Sylvie, the harbinger of true and absolute freedom, takes on the role of supportive ex and challenges Loki to answer Mobius’s question in S1E1: “What do you want?”

In this, Mobius and Loki’s individual relationships with the TVA are identical. It was never about where (the TVA), when (time works differently at the TVA), or why (the timelines). It was about who. It was about each other. The TVA represents a liminal space which became home by virtue of the people who brought love into it. The TVA is code for Loki and Mobius when each speaks of it.

Again, the artists behind the media must self-censure. In this, Loki also self-censures while giving the truth. “I don’t want to be alone. I want my friends back.” It cannot be denied that Mobius is Loki’s first truest and closest friend. “I don’t want to be alone. I want Mobius back.” Sylvie appreciates and validates this desire, but also points out that showing the TVA is something that cannot be unseen. The implication of this response suggests that Sylvie believes that Loki’s friends will feel compelled to join the TVA out of moral pressure. She reiterates the true lives that are being lived, and Loki, loving his friends, loving Mobius, elects to not take that away from them. “You are just fine without the TVA.”

Yet, Loki must choose an act of profound selfless love to save everyone. In doing so, he saves and frees Mobius in the way Mobius saved and freed him. The tragedy and, once again, poetic irony is that they both would have chosen each other. In giving everyone freedom, the true freedom of Loki and Mobius is sacrificed. This double-standard reflects in our reality between those who identify as cis and heterosexual and those who do not.

When Mobius looks at his timeline in S2E6, he does so for one reason: that timeline survived because of Loki’s sacrifice. He must honor that sacrifice and see what Loki protected. Mobius appreciates what he finds, but he doesn’t belong there. It is not what he ultimately longs for. And there must be worry, shame, in recognizing he would prefer to give up the house and two children if a life with Loki were a viable choice.

We all experience loss in our lives. Loss without a goodbye is also commonplace but is another pain that is more acute within the intersectional queer community. I speak of missed opportunities for happiness due to external forces. I speak of loss of self. I speak of loss of friends and family and home. I speak of death, losing a loved one without a goodbye, because same-sex lovers are not considered next of kin, an impossibility without marriage. Marriage echoes back to Don, who has no spouse, and Mobius, who has no partner.

#asks #loki #mobius #lokius #loki season 2 #loki series #loki meta #my meta #loki analysis #my analysis #queer community #queer #queer representation #queer relationships #lgbt representation #lgbtq community #lgbtqia

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 6 months

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Old Friends (pt. 2)

Max Cooperman x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral female receiving, dom max, underage drinking, underage smoking, rough sex, drunkish sex, pretty smutty guys you are warned

summary: after what happened between you and max, you can’t stop thinking about it… but he hasn’t called you since. whats gonna happen when you go back for a much smaller gathering?

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i’m finally back after like 4 months… hope this was worth the wait ;)

~~~

Your heart is racing. You’re in the back of Baja’s car. You, her, and Jake just pulled into Max’s driveway. It’s been two weeks since the Fourth of July party, two weeks since you’ve seen or heard from Max. You’ve been waiting for him to reach out, for him to tell you he doesn’t regret it and that he wants to see you again. But he hasn’t. You know he’s changed; you should’ve seen it coming, but it still hurts you that he was so willing to throw away your entire friendship for a one-time thing.

“Y/N? Come on, we’ve been sitting here for like five minutes get moving,” Baja says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You nod and get out of her car. Did Max know they brought you to this hangout? Baja told you it was just going to be like the old days again. However, you doubt it’ll be like old times given what happened. The four of you were going to get crossed and watch movies. Max’s parents weren’t home again, so you guys are going to have the place to yourselves. You’d be excited if you weren’t already so nervous.

You follow Jake and Baja to Max’s door; you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, your stomach is full of nervous butterflies. You wish you didn’t agree to come. The only reason you did was because if you didn’t, Baja would’ve suspected something happened between you and Max. She already knew you hooked up with a guy at the party, but you refused to tell her who. You felt bad lying to your best friend, but it’s better this way. You didn’t want anyone to know about what Max considers to be that one mistake, it would make things awkward. So, you kept it secret.

After a few seconds of standing at the front door, Max opens it wide. He greets you all with a warm smile, but you can see the way his eyes shift when they meet yours. All you can think about is the way those same dark eyes looked into yours in his car, it’s all you’ve thought about for the past two weeks. But now, seeing him in front of you, makes it ten times worse. You regret coming.

“Finally, you guys are late,” Max says.

Jake pats Max’s shoulders and laughs. “Sorry, Baja took forever as usual to get ready. Then we had to get y/n too. But we made it.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in,” Max replied, pushing Jake inside.

“Nice to see you again Max.” Baja smiles and follows Jake in.

Max’s eyes meet yours again as you slowly enter. You don’t know if you’re glad or upset at the fact that he doesn’t say anything to you. It doesn’t matter. You brush it off and follow Jake and Baja into the living room. Max already set a few bottles of alcohol on the coffee table along with some cups. The sight makes you happier than ever. You jump onto the couch and start to look more specifically at each of the bottles.

“Jesus, you already want to get drunk?” Baja asks with a small chuckle.

You look back at her and nod. “Hell yeah, the last time I drank was here and that was too weeks ago.”

You set on the bottle of pink lemonade Smirnoff; it has the highest percentage of alcohol on the table. You unscrew the top and pour yourself a shot. Baja and Jake sit on the couch and start to look at the bottles as well. Without another thought, you take the shot. You love the way it burns your throat, but you hate the sweet aftertaste it leaves. However, it’s a perfect distraction from the boy who’s now sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“What are we watching?” Jake questions the group.

“I was thinking horror,” Baja answers.

“That’s fine,” Max agrees.

Their eyes turn to you. You simply nod.

“Great, let’s get this going,” Jake says as he grabs the remote.

You glance at Max again and see he’s already looking at you, a strange look in his eyes. You quickly avert your eyes. It’s going to be a long night.

~~~

After the first movie, all of you are drunk. You lost count of how many shots you took, and you have no idea how many times you hit Max’s bong. This was the first time in two weeks you weren’t worrying about what your status with him was, so in simple terms, you felt amazing.

Baja is passed out on Jake’s shoulder, Jake is trying his best to find another movie to play, and Max is lying back on the couch with his eyes closed. You know he’s not asleep because every couple of minutes he speaks. You don’t want to think about how many times already this night you’ve looked at him. You feel ashamed, it’s as though you can’t keep your eyes off him. It’s awful.

“Guys I think I’m gonna pass out,” Jake says. He stands up, stumbling a bit. “Can we crash in one of your guest rooms?”

“Of course, just don’t fuck too loud. The walls are very thin,” Max replies, his eyes still closed.

“Noted.”

Jake picks up Baja carefully in bridal style and starts to walk out of the living room and down one of the halls. You giggle as you see him stumble into a wall slightly. When you turn back to the TV. the realization hits you. Now that they’re gone it’s just you and Max... alone. If it weren’t for all the alcohol and weed, you’d be freaking out right now. You’re able to keep your composure though, deep down you’re nervous something awkward will happen.

You grab the remote, trying your best to be quiet and not make Max open his eyes. You almost succeed, but just as you settle back into your spot away from him, he sits up. He turns his head toward you, meeting your eyes for the millionth time that night.

“Are you putting something on?” He asks, his voice alone making your stomach fill with butterflies.

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” you reply.

He slightly nods. “Go ahead.”

You pick the first movie you see and settle into your spot more, pulling a blanket over your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Max is watching you and every so often he shifts just a little bit, making the space between the two of you smaller and smaller. You try your hardest to keep your attention on the screen, but once Max is only a foot away from you, you can’t take it any longer.

You look at him, annoyed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just enjoying the movie like you are,” he answers casually.

“No- I mean...” You struggle to find the words, the alcohol still affecting you. You shake your head and stand up. “Never mind, I’m going to bed.”

You begin to turn but Max grabs your wrist. You swear it’s as though his hand is an electric fence. Tingles travel throughout your body at his touch. You instantly turn your head and look down at him, the memories of the last time he did this replay through your head. His eyes are dark, they look the same as they did in his car moments before everything went down. You don’t know what to think of it.

“Stay,” he mumbles.

“Why? You clearly aren’t interested in me,” you snap. “I shouldn’t have even come tonight I’m so stupid.”

“What makes you think that? Do you not remember what I said to you the last time we saw each other? You’re the one who hasn’t called me since the party,” he says.

You shake your head again. “You never called me. I waited and waited and didn’t get a single word. If you wanted it to just be a one-night stand you could’ve told me that before I left because then you would’ve spared me all those hours waiting for a simple fucking call.”

“Woah hold on. I was waiting for you to call me,” he replies.

The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds. You’re confused. Was all of this just a misunderstanding? Had he really been waiting for you to make the first move? From the way he’s staring up at you, you believe what he said. Part of you feels guilty, you shouldn’t have simply expected him to contact you first.

“I’m sorry I just thought that you were going to call me,” you apologize.

Max moves his thumb across your wrist, you almost shiver. “I’m sorry too. I really wanted to see you again all those days.”

“You did?”

Your heart begins to race as it did mere hours ago, but this time for a completely different reason. He continues to move his thumb on your skin, the simple contact making the pit of your stomach fill with that familiar warmth and your panties begin to dampen.

“Of course, I did. You’re all I can think about. I know I said I wouldn’t care if it was only that one time, but I lied. I need it again, I need you again,” he says.

He pulls your wrist gently, guiding you back onto the couch next to him. You don’t object. When he leans closer to you, you don’t dare move. His lips are only inches from yours now, his other hand gripping yours tightly. You’ve never wanted another person more than you want Max right now.

“Can I have you again?” He asks under his breath.

You nod, you’re too lost in the way he’s looking at you to speak.

“I need to hear it y/n, use your words,” he whispers.

“I’ve been yours to have Max, and I think it’s going to stay that way for a while,” you reply, so quietly a person a foot away from you wouldn’t even be able to hear.

“Good, because I’m going to want you again, and again, and again...”

Your lips meet, and you feel that same spark flow throughout your body. You kiss him hard, your hands instantly finding their way to his soft curls. He reciprocates in all the right ways. His hands move to your breasts, your waist, your neck... caressing, fondling, and pleasing every inch of you that they touch. You can’t get enough of it.

He slowly lays you down on the couch after a few minutes, his body filling the space between your legs instantly. You fight back moans as his lips begin to travel down your neck, sucking the spots he quickly learns drive you insane. One of his hands finds the bottom of your shirt and he starts to pull it up.

“No, what if Jake or Baja come out?” You question. His lips are still on your neck, it takes everything inside you to not make a noise. “Max?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch, just wait a minute,” he answers, his breath tickling your neck.

You trust him, so you simply close your eyes and let the feeling of his rough hands on your bare stomach take over. He lifts your shirt up enough to expose your breasts, you aren’t wearing a bra. You sigh as he kneads one of your breasts in his hand. His hands are so big, so rough, so warm. He pinches your nipple, making you squirm. You were surprised the first time by his dominance, Max always used to be a follower. But now he seems even more dominant, it only makes the wetness in your panties grow.

You let him pull your shirt over your head, you let him throw it on the floor, you even let him suck your nipples out in this open area. The thought of Baja or Jake walking out and seeing the two of you like this excites you, though you know it shouldn’t. It’s wrong, and if you were caught, you’d face major consequences. You don’t think about that though, in fact, you don’t think at all at this moment.

Max pulls back and takes off his shirt. Your eyes travel up and down his torso, his body still receiving that same surprised reaction from you. You press one of your hands onto his chest, your fingers move down his body slowly. He’s so warm, so inviting. He leans back over you and captures your lips in another kiss.

You continue to move your hand down his body till you reach the waistband of his shorts. You can feel how hard he is through his clothes; it almost makes you squirm. You move your other hand down and pull at his remaining clothing. He doesn’t object, and in a matter of seconds, his shorts and boxers are on the floor. A soft moan leaves his lips as you gently wrap a hand around his hard cock and stroke.

“God, I need you,” he mumbles against your lips. The tone of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

He leans back so he’s kneeling on the couch and begins to unbutton your shorts. You lift your hips as he drags them down your body, kicking them off once they reach your ankles. A woman in the movie screams just as Max begins to play with your soaking cunt. You’re glad, because the second his fingers find your clit, your silence is over. You practically whimper at the sensation. He toys with you for a few moments, making your toes curl when he finds that perfect spot inside you with his fingertips.

“Max,” you moan, one of your hands gripping his wrist. “I’m close.”

He removes his hand instantly and your eyes shoot open, what is he doing? You’re about to say something but that’s when he starts moving down the couch. You watch his head fall between your legs. His eyes meet yours as he sticks out his tongue and tastes you for the first time tonight. A soft sigh escapes your lips, your head falls back on the couch.

Barely five have passed by the time you feel your orgasm approaching again. Something about the way Max is so willing to go down on you makes you so much more turned on. You don’t say anything, you don’t have the time because before you can speak, you’re already falling apart on his tongue. You cover your mouth with your hand, your body shakes as you cum.

He stops a few seconds before you’re overstimulated and returns to his kneeling position between your legs. Before you even catch your breath, he grabs your hips and flips you over onto your stomach. He pulls your hips, so your ass is in the air. You arch your back, half on your own, half from his hand that moves up to your lower back and pushes down so you bend more. It hurts, but you can’t get enough of it.

“Are you good with no condom again?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

You feel the tip of his cock line up with your entrance, it makes goosebumps appear on your skin. This is the moment you’ve been craving for two weeks. As he slowly begins sliding inside of you, you gasp. He stretches you almost to the point of it being painful. You bite down on your arm to keep yourself from screaming from the pleasure. You hear Max softly moan, the sound of his raspy voice making you clench around him.

“Be quiet baby, like I said the walls are very thin,” he says. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. It only turns you on more.

He begins his slow thrusts, the pace both agonizing and glorifying at the same time. You want more, you need more. But you know he’s doing it to taunt you, to hear you beg him for more, so you bite your tongue. Max must realize you’re on to him because he slows down even more, not even going all the way in. It hurts, and not in the way you want it to. You give in.

“Faster Max, harder Max, stop fucking me like I’m some untouched virgin,” you whisper.

He laughs. “You’re the first girl to insult me while my dick is inside you.”

You look over your shoulder and can’t help the smile that takes over your face. It was almost like you forgot it was Max you were having sex with. The same Max that you used to make fun of for being a virgin, the same Max you used to have to convince your parents wasn’t gay. He’s not a stranger, no matter how much his appearance changes he’s always going to be your best friend Max.

“Just fuck me please, before they come out here for water,” you reply after a few seconds.

“Your wish is my command.”

Max rams his hips into yours so hard it hurts. You moan, too loud for your liking. Neither of you say anything about it though, you’re too caught up in the moment. He fucks you rough, his skin slapping yours at an incredibly fast pace. You bury your face in the couch, your hands gripping the couch hard. He hits that spot inside you with every thrust, each time he hits it making you closer and closer to finishing.

He places one of his hands on your shoulder and pulls you back, so his dick moves even deeper inside you. You can’t help the loud whine that leaves your lips. The pain is almost unbearable. Almost. He lets go of your shoulder after a few thrusts and instead slaps your ass. All these sensations drive you crazy, blurring your mind and your body.

“Max I-I'm close,” you whimper after a few more minutes.

“Me too baby, me too,” he replies, his breath ragged.

When you finish, your entire body shakes, and you struggle to keep yourself up. Max finishes only a few seconds after you, his dick pulsing hard inside of you. Once you’re both finished, he pulls out and you fall from your position. Your heart is beating rapidly, your face is flushed, you can barely breathe. You’ve never experienced sex so rough in your life. And you can’t believe how much you enjoy it.

Max lays down next to you, covering your naked bodies with a blanket. You just stare at the TV. as the credits for the movie start to play, your breath finally catching up with you.

“If Jake and Baja ask about the noise, do you just wanna tell them it was a movie we had on really loud?” Max eventually asks.

You chuckle and turn your body to face him. “No, let’s just tell them we were having incredibly rough and loud sex.”

“Are you serious?”

You chuckle again. “Obviously not. We can’t tell them anything about this unless we start dating, but I doubt that will happen.”

“Why do you doubt that?”

“Well, I mean, I’m gonna be leaving the state again and you’ll be back at your school. I wouldn’t want to hold you back from all the girls who’ve been missing what I just experienced,” you explain.

“Well, I don’t want any other guy to touch you like that,” he says, his words causing you to blush.

“Is long distance really something you’d want to do? We wouldn’t be able to do this until the holidays you know.”

“I know, but that’s what’ll keep it special. Imagine how good it’ll be after months of not doing it. But it’s not even just about the sex, I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since like junior year,” he reveals.

You smile. “If you want to try then so do I, but I want it to actually work out. I don’t want to break up and then have the friend group split. I want it to last.”

He wraps his arm around you and pulls your body against his. “I think it’ll last.”

You couldn’t agree more.

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ilguna · 7 months

Note

Can I please get #14 from list 1 with Johanna either prepping for the 75th or in the area during the 75th? Thank you!

☼ slippery show (Johanna Mason) ☼

warnings; swearing, johanna's naked, a little nsfw.

wc; 1.5k

prompt; 14. getting turned on when they see the other succeeding.

—

“Finnick, genuinely, do you know anything about archery?” You ask, watching as he pulls a medium-sized bow off of the display table.

He briefly glances at you, unbothered by your tone. It wouldn’t be the first time in your life that you’ve questioned his abilities, because of this, he doesn’t let your doubt waver his confidence. With the bow in one hand, he reaches to grab a matching arrow with the other.

“I think you’ll be surprised.” He says.

“Really?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let’s see it, then, golden boy.”

Finnick gives you a look, one that tells you that you’re about to eat your words. When he holds the bow up, sliding the arrow across it, you take a step back to give him more room. He pulls the string back, taking in a deep breath, and releases the arrow when he breathes out.

The arrow hits the very outer circle of the target.

You sputter out a laugh, Finnick’s head whips in your direction to give you a nasty glare. You cover your mouth, but the giggles escape through your fingers. You can’t take him seriously, ever, and this is the exact reason why. He pretends like he knows what he’s doing, and then he does something stupid that you saw coming.

“I really can’t say I’m surprised.” You manage to get out. “Do it again.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward. “Shut up.”

“Come on, Finnick.” You grin, eyes wandering away to the rest of the gymnasium.

“No, it’s your turn.” Finnick holds the bow out, “You can’t just laugh at me without doing it, too.”

“Oh, yeah I can.” You tell him, eyes landing on Johanna.

She’s halfway across the room, standing next to a wrestling mat with one of the training experts. She’s got her arms crossed, head tilted to the side while she listens to what the woman has to say about the station. She must get bored, because she turns her attention away, landing on you.

The two of you lock eyes for a long moment, neither of you moving. And then, Johanna gives you a slight smirk.

“Here.” Finnick takes your hand, putting the bow in it. “We can take turns laughing at each other.”

You force yourself to look away from your girlfriend, to Finnick. You’d much rather be over there with her. The reason why you’re not is because she wanted to try out some of the solo training stations, and Finnick wanted to see if you had any hidden skills he should know about.

Despite telling him that you know as much as he does, considering you come from the same district, he’s going to drag you around the gymnasium until he’s satisfied or it’s lunch time. So far, he’s taken you to the more obvious and easy places to start. You can throw a spear and a trident with your eyes closed. And a knife isn’t that difficult, either.

With those out of the way, he decided to take you to the archery area. It’s clear that he can shoot an arrow, just not very good. You’re not entirely sure if you’ll be any better at it. In fact, you might be worse.

You sigh, fixing the bow in your hand. “I’m going to suck.”

“Yeah, I know.” Finnick says. “I want a turn at laughing at you.”

“Thanks.” You make a face at him.

You turn to the table with the arrows, plucking one of them off. You hold it up, looking it over. It’s made out of silver, glinting in the light. You bring up the bow, mimicking the way that Finnick had prepared the arrow against it. The archery expert seems to have already removed Finnick’s arrow, giving you a blank slate.

You press your lips together, pulling back the arrow, closing one of your eyes to aim, and then letting go of the arrow. It whistles through the air, filling the moment of silence, before it thwaps against the target, sticking in the circle surrounding the center.

Once again, you let out a laugh, a smile crossing your face as you turn to see a disappointed Finnick. He rolls his eyes at you, and you place the bow back onto the display table. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“That was luck.” Finnick says.

“Or pure talent that you seem to lack.” You suggest, Finnick squints at you.

“When did you become so mean?”

“Probably right around the time I started dating Johanna.” You say, and the two of you look over.

Johanna’s peeling her tank top off, starting at the bottom and pulling up. She gets to her ribcage and stops, making sure your eyes are on her. The further she pulls up, the more skin she exposes, and reveals that she didn’t put a bra on this morning.

Finnick looks away, not interested in seeing her topless. You, however, are a different story. She wanted to make sure that you were watching, so you will.

She reaches down, thumbs hooking on the inside of her white leggings, slowly pulling them down her thighs. You shake your head at her with a smile, knowing full well that she thinks this is a game. She doesn’t care what anyone else in this room could possibly think.

When she’s got her leggings around her ankles, she swings it up with one leg, catching it in her hand. Only left in her underwear, she raises her eyebrows at you, and you cock your head to the side.

Is she going to go any further?

The training expert comes over, taking the clothes from Johanna. She pinches at the fabric hiding her lower half, talking to the expert. The expert shrugs, motioning to her underwear. Johanna smiles, and then you watch as she begins to pull that down, too.

“What station is she at?” You ask Finnick.

“The wrestling one.” He says, turning away, “Let’s go fight with sicles.”

“Nope, I’m done playing with toys.” You tell him, “I’ll stay right here.”

“You’re going to watch your naked girlfriend wrestle with another woman?” Finnick asks, and then he starts laughing. “Why don’t you two just get a room?”

“You’re just jealous your super hot girlfriend isn’t here, instead.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest again.

You watch as the expert hands something over, Johanna squirts it into her hand, and then begins to rub it over her body. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that it’s oil that she’s spreading on her skin. Which means that this is going to be a slippery match.

“Well, I’m not going to sit here and watch Johanna.”

“That’s fine, you can go and bother the teenagers. I know that’s what you’ve been waiting for.” You sit down on one of the benches that are scattered across the room. “I’m going to enjoy the show.”

Finnick lets out a gag, walking away, you laugh at his reaction.

As soon as Johanna’s done oiling herself down, she and the wrestling expert go head to head. This is when she’s able to show just how good she’s gotten at fighting up close with people. It should be hard for the expert to get her hands on Johanna, but by the way she grabs your girlfriend, it’s like the oil doesn’t even affect her.

Still, Johanna takes the expert down on the mat easily, several times. She’ll twist her body around the legs, or do a maneuver where she flips the expert onto her back. She does it so effortlessly, like she’s done it her entire life.

It’s mesmerizing.

Not only is Johanna incredibly gorgeous, but she’s also smart and talented. No matter how many times you tell her this, she always brushes you off. Then moments like these come around and you wonder how you managed to get so lucky ending up with someone so wonderful.

You press your knees together, gritting your teeth as you watch her pin down the expert, hand wrapped around their throat. It’s tense for a moment, and then Johanna backs off, letting out a laugh.

The two of them get back to their feet, where the expert walks off to the table, picking up a white towel. She tosses it to Johanna, who immediately begins to wipe the oil off of her body. You don’t move from where you sit, letting her pull on her underwear before getting to your feet.

The moment she’s noticed that you’ve gotten up, a smile comes across her face. She’s managed to pull on her leggings by the time you reach her, but she’s still missing her top. You don’t really care, and neither does she.

Johanna doesn’t resist when you pull her in by her hips, lips hovering over hers. She closes the gap, a warm and breathless feeling comes over your body. There’s something about Johanna that’s intoxicating, and you can’t get away from it. Not that you’d ever want to.

She pulls away, lips turned up.

You lean in close, your right cheek pressed to hers as you go to her ear, murmuring, “Maybe you should come back to mine tonight, yeah?”

this is part of my 3k celebration!! you can join until the cure is released on October 31st, at midnight!!

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justinspoliticalcorner · 10 days

Text

Mary L. Trump at The Good in Us Substack:

Normally, my issue with the corporate media is their failure to shine a light on stories that matter. But in this case, it seems some segments of the corporate media, primarily Fox, is hellbent on helping Donald interfere with his trial through jury intimidation. It’s a disturbing reality that we must confront. Last night, Donald Trump posted the following on social media: “They are catching undercover liberal activists lying to the judge,” Jesse Watters.

Lawyers and legal analysts like Ryan Goodman and Andrew Weissman made it clear that this was a serious breach, the most serious to date, of Judge Merchan’s gag order – one that should be dressed immediately. The fact that Donald was quoting somebody else is irrelevant. This seemed to be a blatant case of jury tampering, especially since, at the time of this was posted, five jurors and all six alternates remained to be chosen. I fully expected today’s proceedings to begin with the judge announcing that the so-called Sandoval hearing, which he originally scheduled, would be held today before any other court business. This seemed to be a reasonable assumption considering the purpose of that hearing was so the judge can rule on the prosecution’s contention that Donald should be held in contempt and sanctioned accordingly.

Juror Number 2 dismissed

It’s not uncommon for a juror to be chosen and subsequently let go during the selection process. That was the case with Juror Four after the prosecution discovered the man may have been untruthful in some of his answers. Juror Two’s circumstances were different. She was excused after telling the court that she’d become concerned that her identity might be discovered after her family and friends questioned her about her possible involvement in the trial following media coverage. The fact that the judge felt the need to keep the identities of jurors anonymous is a damning indictment of the criminal defendant. And clearly the jurors understand the inherent danger of being seated on this jury.

To put this in perspective, my friend and former U.S. Attorney, Joyce White Vance explained, “Typically, you would only see that happen in a case involving violent organized crime.” Following the juror’s feedback, Judge Merchan reprimanded the press for reporting far too much information about the jurors. [Out of an abundance of caution, I deleted the section about the jurors from last night’s post.]

[...] In a disturbing display of media influence, Fox host Jesse Watters went through the list of jurors, with identifying characteristics like employment, gender, place of residence, and commented on each one.

Watters then singled out any jurors who didn’t align with his idea of what a juror should be (pro-Donald) and cast doubt on their ability to be fair and impartial. This is not just unethical, it’s dangerous. Fox, on Donald’s behalf, is actively helping Donald create an atmosphere of fear among the jurors. In a just world, Watters would be fired for his irresponsible behavior, but Fox has no interest in justice. Consider what Josh Kovensky of Talking Points Memo, pointed out: “Instead of operating within the process of jury selection, which assumes that people are capable of setting aside whatever political beliefs or biases they may have in order to render a good faith judgment on the evidence, it casts the assumptions underlying that process as Trump’s enemy to be defeated, implying that the jurors themselves are incapable of both being impartial in their judgment of him and participating in a political system in which he is a main actor.”

[...]

Donald amplifies Fox, scares a juror, and breaks his gag order

So far, here’s the pattern: A Fox personality attacks the judge or jury, and then Donald shares it on Truth Social as a way to give himself plausible deniability: He can distance himself from the quote by saying it doesn’t represent what he actually believes. This is exactly what he did last night when he quoted Jesse Watters. Regardless of Donald’s attempts to pretend otherwise, this is a clear violation of his gag order and shows a blatant disregard for the legal process. He needs to be punished or this will spiral out of control quickly. We’re already seeing that his disrespectful behavior in the courtroom and flouting of norms — like refusing to stand when the prospective jurors enter the room or using his phone when nobody else is —has already gone too far. The gag order was imposed to prevent Donald from publicly speaking about witnesses, jurors, court staff and their families outside of the courtroom. Donald has run out of chances and his downfall will be of his own making.

[...]

Judge Merchan must lay the smackdown on Donald

Prosecutors have accused Donald of violating the court-imposed gag order SEVEN times since the commencement of the trial. And they will have a chance to make the case for Donald to be held accountable during a hearing next week. They have pointed to public statements and social media posts made by Donald over the past few days as evidence of these violations. They have described the situation as “ridiculous” and have called for it to stop, expressing frustration over Donald’s repeated breaches of the order. Former federal prosecutor Shannon Wu has now called on Merchan to strengthen the gag order to any communication about the trial beyond Donald saying he’s innocent and plans to defend himself. At the very least, Judge Merchan needs to be unequivocal in telling Donald and defense counsel that enough is enough. The repeated violations of the gag order and Donald’s attempts to interfere with the trial warrant serious repercussions. He cannot keep getting away with it.

Mary L. Trump writes in her Substack on how right-wing media outlets (esp. Fox's Jesse Watters) and Donald Trump are conducting witness tampering on the jury for the Trump falsification of business records trial. Trump Trial

#Jury Tampering #Witness Tampering #Donald Trump #Jesse Watters #People of New York v. Trump #Donald Trump Trial #Juan Manuel Merchan #Mary L. Trump #Mary Trump

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buckymorelikefuckme · 11 months

Text

how to marry a millionaire | chapter two

mafia bucky x spoiled brat reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** s*exual language, s*exual content, o*ral (m receiving), ex*hibtionism, thinly veiled threats (??) -- if i missed anything pls let me know my brain is fried

a/n: f i n a l l y... she is here. thank you @cultofcarter for reading through this for me :) as always, any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

masterlist

“You've been an absolute delight this evening. Thank you for accompanying me.” He stands, coming around the table to offer his hand to you.

You accept it gratefully, your skin tingling from the contact as you rise from your seat. “Are you sending me home already?” you question, meeting his gaze straight on and ignoring the displeasure you feel when the warmth of his hand retreats.

Dinner had been, predictably, delicious. The conversation throughout was much more pleasant than you anticipated. He's got great banter, and you laughed more than you ever have on past dates. Honestly, he's so charming that you’ve almost forgotten you should be a little wary of him. You're hardly even putting up a front anymore.

He tilts his head, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip as he contemplates. “I’m not sure you're ready for more yet.”

“This is hardly the first time I've been through this song and dance, James,” you say coyly, tracing your index finger down the lapel of his suit jacket. “These sorts of arrangements are perfectly normal.”

He’s silent for a moment, watching you with unreadable eyes. You try to maintain eye contact, but it’s so intense you find yourself breaking it, glancing away to the empty room.

Everything about tonight has been nowhere near what you expected, especially James. You've dealt with enough men in your life to feel as if you know exactly how to handle them. Yet, with him, you feel like a complete novice. He’s totally unpredictable.

It’s unsettling.

It's exhilarating.

“I think you're confused about what's happening here,” he informs you. He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. Your heart stutters in your chest and you have to physically force your shoulders to relax. “I'm not a fucking sugar daddy,” he states coolly, his expression still frustratingly blank. “I’m not interested in sharing and I’m not looking for something casual. If we’re to continue, we will be exclusive. I’ll still spoil you like crazy, don't worry about that, but I’m not going to throw money at you and not gain anything in return. The same way you know what you want, I know what I want. So you better decide now. It’ll be your only chance.”

Jesus. You know you should be terrified, because that was not a threat, it was a promise, yet for whatever reason it's got desire swirling in your core.

“You make it sound like you'll own me,” you mutter faintly.

His grin is all teeth. “Oh, sweetheart,” he starts, condescending, his grip on your chin tightening. “That's exactly what I mean.”

There is not even a hint of dishonesty in his eyes. You're not sure if that’s better or worse. The fact he's even giving you an opportunity to decline seems like it's a rare occurrence, so you actually take a moment to consider your options.

On the one hand, you're almost entirely positive his other work consists of illegal activities. You have no doubt that he’s done some truly nefarious things and that thought settles in your stomach like a heavy stone. His hands are definitely dirty. He’s a dangerous man, and there’s no way he hasn't made some enemies. The risks are substantial.

But, on the other hand, you have had a fantastic preview of what his money can get you. He's spent more on you in one day than some of your past sugar daddies have spent during the whole relationship. He's made it abundantly clear that he has more money than he knows what to do with. If you choose to agree to his stipulations, you could very well be set for life. Call you greedy, or even selfish, but you have every right to be spoiled beyond your wildest dreams as much as the next person.

It's with that in mind that you take the smallest step closer to him, craning your neck to hold his stare, his hand loosening and dropping. You slide your palms around his waist.

“May I still call you daddy?”

He grins wider, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You fucking better.”

Your chin drops slightly so you can look at him through your lashes.

“And do I still have to go home?”

“Well, I suppose that depends,” he hedges. “If we leave here together, I can no longer promise any type of restraint from me. I've used all of my willpower through dinner to keep from taking you on the table.”

Biting your lip, you hold back the needy noise that almost escaped. “I fail to see how that would be a problem,” you reply breathily.

You feel his hands slide down until they reach your ass. He squeezes roughly and you’re not quick enough to stop a gasp from slipping. His expression tells you he liked hearing it, liked knowing he could put a crack in your pristine, iron-clad composure.

“Then, I guess you better follow me to the car,” he says, landing a smack on one of your ass cheeks.

He threads his fingers through yours and begins walking towards the kitchen, pulling you along with him in the process. You do your best to keep up with his long strides, but you struggle to match his pace. Your heels do not make up for the height difference between the two of you. His legs are longer than yours, no matter what. He's a tall bastard. He's quite large, in general, actually. And according to him, that includes his cock, though you'll be able to determine if it's true or not very soon. Just the thought sends a rush of heat through you.

The employees in the kitchen all scramble to clear the way for James when you enter, their eyes trained on the floor as he marches by. Clearly, they know exactly who he is and what he's capable of and are not keen on getting on his bad side. They must've been in the middle of cleaning, you think, because there are rags on the stainless steel counters and a huge sink full of soapy water with pots and pans draining on the counter next to it.

“Dinner was perfect, gentlemen,” James announces as he passes. “Thank you for your time.”

Nobody responds verbally, but you see their shoulders slump in relief.

“You can take tomorrow off,” he adds, smiling when excited murmuring picks up after you've turned a corner and entered a narrow hallway. There's another overly tall, beefy man standing next to the door. “Anything I should know about?” James asks as you both approach.

“No,” the man replies, curt.

James nods. “Thank you, Steve. Is Sam ready with the car?”

“Yes. I assume the girl is coming with you.”

“The girl has a name, asshole,” you interject before James even has a chance to open his mouth.

The man, Steve, cuts his eyes to you. “With all due respect,” he starts, and you can already tell he means no respect, whatsoever, “I was speaking to my boss. Not his arm candy.”

You scowl. “Regardless, I would appreciate not being talked about like I’m not here, you overgrown guard dog.”

James snorts. Steve stares at you for a beat, then cracks a smile, shaking his head.

“You've met your match, Buck,” he states.

“It would appear so,” James agrees.

Steve pushes open the door and the three of you walk out into an alleyway where four black SUVs are idling. Steve tugs on the handle to the back door to one of them and beckons you and James to get in. The doors lock as soon as he closes it.

“I take it your date went well,” says the man in the driver seat.

“Better than anticipated,” James replies, winking in your direction. “Take us to the estate, please, Sam.”

Sam gives James a salute and shifts the gear into drive.

“The estate?” you inquire as the sparkling city lights pass by.

James hums. “Yes.”

“Still trying to impress me, huh?” you tease.

“Of course,” he replies easily. “Can't have you getting bored.”

“Cute,” you claim.

He huffs a laugh. “Nothing about me is cute.”

“That's debatable,” you retort.

Sam lets out a quiet snicker that changes into a cough when James clears his throat pointedly. You giggle, leaning into James’ arm.

“Oh, c’mon. Don't tell me the big, bad, scary man isn't allowed to be cute once in a while.” When all you get in response is an eye roll and a clenched jaw, you sigh dramatically. “Okay, fine. You're not cute.”

“Thank you,” he says loftily.

“Big baby,” you mumble.

His hand, which has been comfortably resting on your bare knee, squeezes hard enough that you jerk in surprise and barely bite back the protest on the tip of your tongue.

“You ought to be nicer to me.”

His voice is low and his eyes are dark with warning. You’re suddenly struck with the understanding at that moment that you're not necessarily promised anything here, not yet. One wrong move could land you on your ass, or worse, so it's in your best interest to keep a man like him happy. With that thought in mind, you make a mental note that too much teasing is off limits. For now, at least.

“Sorry,” you respond quietly. You let your palm glide across his thigh. “Let me make it up to you?”

He eases his grip slightly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Considering we’re headed for the highway, I imagine we have some time to kill,” you observe.

“Smart girl,” he praises, letting go of your knee entirely and reaching for the hand on his thigh, directing it to the considerable bulge in his slacks.

You cup him through his pants and realize he's not even hard yet, which makes the size of what you're feeling even more mouthwateringly impressive.

“Wanna blow you,” you request, meeting his eyes. “Please.”

“You're not worried about having an audience?” he wonders, nodding towards Sam.

“It wouldn't be the first time,” you confess with a cheeky grin. “And I doubt it'll be the last.”

James matches your grin then gestures to his pants. “Go ahead, doll.”

You're extremely grateful for the spacious floors in the backseat as you lower yourself to your knees and maneuver your way between James’ legs. These luxury SUVs are top notch for a multitude of reasons, but this is always one of the main ones for you.

You waste no time in undoing James’ Italian leather belt, the button and zip on his slacks following, then lower the band of his boxer briefs to pull his cock out. You wish you could say you're surprised, but the fact he has a perfect cock isn't all that shocking. The length of it alone is worthy of praise, but it's the girth that makes your cunt clench around nothing. He's going to feel fucking divine inside your pussy, but for now, you'll settle for getting your mouth on him. You wrap your lips around the head as you stroke him, getting him as hard as possible, swiping your tongue across his slit.

“So pretty,” he compliments. You glance up at him coquettishly and he smiles. “Yeah, yeah. You know.”

You hum around him, pleased, and he sighs as he settles more into the seat. You take another inch of him in your mouth, slowly working your way down his above-average length. As much as it pains you to admit, even to yourself, you can't deepthroat. It's not for lack of trying, or anything. You've just unfortunately been graced with an unforgiving gag reflex. God had to keep you humble somehow. So you'll have to make up for it, take as much of his cock as you can and work the rest with your hands.

Normally, you're the type to give sloppy head, but since you're both in nice clothes, you keep it fairly tame. James doesn't have any room for complaints either, considering the way his mouth is slack and he's got his head tipped back. He's letting out these clipped, quiet noises, like he's trying to hold them in, but it just makes you work harder to get more out of him.

You slowly pull off his cock, and when you reach the tip you lightly graze your bottom teeth along his frenulum. His hips spasm and you smile when his eyes quickly find yours. They're blazing, pupils blown and just a touch glassy. Holding his gaze, you dig your tongue in his slit, and the way the vein in his neck pops is so satisfying that you keep doing it for several more seconds. You take him back in your mouth, stroking him with one hand and using the other to play with his balls. His breathing picks up, his chest heaving with it, yet he still only lets cut off sounds slip past his lips.

It's when you let go of his balls, moving your fingers down a little further to put pressure on his perineum, that he finally groans. Deep, guttural, and music to your ears. After that, all bets are off. You go from bobbing on his cock to stroking it at a brutal pace and sucking on his balls, back and forth, all while continuing to massage his perineum. And to your absolute delight, James is putty in your hands. He still tries to cut off his noises, but he's mostly unsuccessful.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grits through his teeth, fingers digging into the leather seat below him so hard his knuckles turn white.

You’re understandably proud of yourself, but your jaw is starting to hurt, so it's time to bring this blowjob to an end. Stroking his cock even faster, you hollow your cheeks and put suction around the head, rubbing his perineum harder. His hips begin shifting, his noises going slightly higher in pitch, breaths coming out in harsh pants. You look up at him with watery eyes and he whines, ass coming up off the seat about an inch, his jaw locking, and then with a drawn out groan, he comes.

You moan as his cum fills your mouth, swallowing all of it as you help him through his climax. He twitches with aftershocks and grunts with overstimulation, but you wait for him to weakly push at your head before you let go of him.

With one last lick to the red head of his cock, you murmur, “Thank you, daddy.”

He laughs, a breathy, disbelieving sound, and wipes a hand down his blissed out face.

“I don't know what kind of stars aligned for us to meet, but I’m sending all of my thanks to whatever deity that made it happen.”

You giggle, pushing yourself back up into the seat beside him as he sluggishly puts his cock back in his boxers and rights his trousers. He's practically boneless where he sits and you know you've done a fantastic job at making up for your thoughtless teasing to him.

“Once we get to the estate, I’ll take care of you, doll,” he promises with a lethargic grin. “Wanna get you spread out on a bed.”

“You won't get any complaints out of me,” you assure.

For the rest of the ride, you and James chatter about anything that comes to mind. Sam, who'd been totally silent before, pipes in when prompted and you're pleased to find he's got a sense of humor that rivals yours. It feels like hardly any time has passed when the car is turned into a driveway with an iron gate. Sam punches in a code on a keypad and the gate opens.

When you're able to get a good look out of the windshield at the looming home ahead of you, your jaw drops. It's fucking massive. You faintly register James snickering next to you, but your attention is better drawn to the mansion you're pulling in front of. You're still gawking when Sam comes around to open the door for you and James. Your “thank you” is quiet and mumbled and not all that polite, but like. C’mon.

“It's nice, huh?” James asks.

“That would be a fucking egregious understatement,” you retort, head tilted up to take in all the grandeur.

He steps up behind you, his front pressed all along your back, nose nuzzling your neck and ear, hands settling low on your hips. “I do believe I promised to lay you out on my bed.”

“That you did,” you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m a man of my word,” he says. “Always.”

Of that you have no doubt.

“I suppose you should take me inside then,” you reply.

Without another word, he links his hand with yours and leads you inside. You barely make it over the threshold before he's swept you off your feet, literally, and carries you up the stairs, grinning at your giggles.

You'll get a tour of the place in the morning, you guess.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #mafia bucky barnes x spoiled brat reader #mafia au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader

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akittenwrites · 2 years

Text

Queen of Ice and Prince of Fire [3]

Author: @akittenwrites

Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.

Type: multichapter series

Chapter: three

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader

Word count: 3811

Warnings: swearing, smut.

Part one.

Part two.

Daemon rested his back on the wooden chair, his eyes roaming over Y/N's body. Now that they were inside, sitting face to face, he allowed himself to enjoy her. He recognized the silk of her dress. It matched her eyes, just as he had thought it would when he acquired it. But it wasn't her fine dress that had his attention right now.

Her breasts were pushed up by the tight bustier, and he decided that was where he would settle his eyes while she thought of what to say. They had been silent for a few minutes now, only illuminated by the flames of the substantial fireplace next to them. Surprisingly, even he, a man not used to the cold, thought there was no need for such a large fire. The castle was incredibly warm, which he had noticed as soon as they had entered it.

After spending what felt like not enough time embracing each other in the Godswood, Y/N had pulled away, saying the words that needed to be said but neither wished to hear.

"We have important matters to discuss. Follow me."

She had walked a step back then, unfastening his dark cloak and letting it fall to the ground, revealing his black doublet, decorated with small silver chains. He wasn't wearing armor, not even chainmail underneath. He hadn't left his sword behind, though. Dark Sister was always with him.

"You look like you're here to assassinate me in that cloak," she explained, playing with a strand of his hair. Then she took his hand in hers to lead him out of the Godswood, the bright eyes of the direwolves no longer visible in the darkness of the woods.

"Maybe I am," he answered, making her chuckle.

"I would love to see you try," she responded, turning her head to smile at him. She seemed incredibly sure he posed no danger to her considering the message she had sent his brother a few days ago, the fact that he was armed and she wasn't, and also the fact that it was him she was dealing with. It was idiotic and naive, and it didn't matter if he was actually a danger to her or not. Not even he knew the answer to that question.

They had barely walked for a few minutes before Y/N let his hand go and one of the tall grey buildings of the castle became visible. They approached the enormous guarded double doors —those guards hadn't been there when Daemon had sneaked in— when Y/N stopped in her tracks and addressed one of the guards.

"Ser Alanor," she called, the man immediately turning to look at her. She waited a few seconds until Daemon was by her side. "Prince Daemon is our guest. Make sure the men are aware of it."

The man bowed his head.

"As my Queen commands."

Once that was settled —and Daemon leaned into her ear to whisper how the commander of her guard had looked at her too lasciviously, earning himself an eye-roll— they entered the building and walked through what appeared to be the Great Hall, with large tables and dozens of seats. Maids were setting up candles while the smell of cooked meat was in the air. Dinner, approximately 200 people, he counted. Around twenty seats at the high table, the largest made of carved stone. That was Y/N's spot, no doubt. And there was only one reason she was having such large dinners: guests. Bannermen. Boltons, Mormonts, Umbers, Glovers?

While Daemon observed everything carefully, the doors, the windows, the servants, and the watchmen, Y/N paid no mind with her head held high, ignoring the curious looks the servants were sending their way. They had surely been warned about his arrival, yet a Targaryen hadn't been in Winterfell for many years. Here the men and women had dark hair, with the occasional auburn or dark blonde. He had no way of not standing out with his long silver hair and his violet eyes. To these people, he probably looked out of this world, more god than man. Which is exactly what he thought he was.

Just as they were walking by, Y/N caught a young woman's arm.

"Ilana," she said, making her stop and turn around. She started to curtsy and greet them but Y/N interrupted her, raising her palm in the air to shut her up. "Prince Daemon and I will dine privately in my solar tonight, I will call when we are ready. Make sure there is no wine shortage in the Great Hall, and the bards only play joyful songs. Find Lord Karstark and the rest of the members of my small council and inform them Prince Daemon has come in peace and is our guest, with whom I will negotiate tonight."

Y/N made a small pause while Ilana nodded.

"Also, make sure the maids prepare our guest's chambers in the Great Keep. Use plenty of fur for the bed, he's not used to this kind of weather," she said in the end, before continuing on her way.

Considering she called him her guest, Y/N wasn't being very polite, forcing him to act like a lost puppy following her around. If only she would slow her pace...

This reminded him too much of how he used to follow her around in the Red Keep too, trying to keep up with her as she went from her chambers to the library and from the library to the courtyard and then back to the library again, with the exception he wasn't familiar with Winterfell and its people.

He wasn't sure if she was just being her usual self or if this was another subtle display of power, as the direwolves had been.

Soon, his thoughts quieted down as they were walking through winding dark corridors, with barely a few torches lighting the way. As his eyes adjusted he realized he didn't recognize this part of the castle. She slowed down her pace and he was finally walking by her side. He saw she had her hands wrung together, as she often did back in King's Landing when she wanted to take his hand but couldn't because they were in public.

He didn't know what was stopping her now. War? Formality? Honor? She may have been calling herself Queen, yet she struggled to act like one. She wasn't even twenty-five summers old yet.

"What do you northerners have against candles?" he whispered, figuring nobody was around to hear anyway. "Did you spend all your gold on weaponry? Maybe on armor? Should we donate candles to Winterfell?"

"We have more than enough gold, thank you for caring," she snapped, giving him a dirty look. "I apologize my castle is too dark for your liking, Prince Daemon. The Red Keep was too bright for mine."

He smiled to himself, remembering she used to blow out most of the candles her handmaidens lit in her chambers in the Red Keep. She preferred the cold and the darkness. Like a wolf.

They finally arrived at a wooden double door with two men standing guard outside. One of them bowed his head and opened the door for her, waiting for them to make their way inside before closing it, giving them privacy.

And that was where they were now. Sitting on the oversized wooden chairs in front of the fireplace, to his right a desk with lots of scrolls and some books, forgotten, and behind her a door that probably connected this solar to her private chambers.

The silence was long but not uncomfortable. There was a lot to think about before talking.

Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice cutting through the silence.

"Why are you here, Daemon?"

The flames barely illuminated their faces, the corners of the room submerged in darkness. Y/N's eyes were fixated on him.

"Because I wished to fuck you like the old times, so I figured I should visit," he responded nonchalantly, tilting his head to the side. "Wait, there was something else." He paused, pretending to think before his eyes scrutinized her, searing. The playfulness was gone from his voice now. "Maybe it is because you are calling yourself Queen of this barren piece of land and rebelling against my brother, your King. Unless there is some other crime you committed I should be aware of."

She raised an eyebrow.

"The Lords of the North named me their Queen. Don't act as if I take pleasure in any of this. Are you here to kill me, then?"

"No, but I will be," he answered honestly. "My brother can be very forgiving. That's what makes him a bad king, but it's also why you are still alive and will live the rest of your life in peace if you forget about this. Call off your bannermen. Burn your crown, wherever it is. Pretend this never happened and swear your loyalty to King Viserys again."

"I don't think you understand what's at stake, Daemon," she bit out.

"No, you don't understand what's at stake!" His hands gripped his chair so hard his knuckles were turning white. "Why war, Y/N? You will die!"

The intensity of his gaze burned her, but she stood her ground. She was a Stark, and Starks did not cower.

"I will die anyway if I'm dragged into another one of your royal conflicts." She gripped her chair as well, leaning forward with the same rage burning in her chest.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned, exasperated. "The realm has been in peace for decades!"

She stood up suddenly, agitated, and walked towards the fireplace, the heat radiating from it making her blush.

They both needed a pause to cool off their tempers.

"What about Viserys' succession? I hear the lords are going restless as he fathers no boys. And your reputation doesn't help you being his heir," she hissed.

"Is this what this is about?" he sneered. "You fear being dragged to war when my brother dies because the realm won't accept me as their King?"

"That's part of it," she admitted, turning to look at him, her grey eyes cold as they fixed on his. A moment passed before he stood up as well, standing behind her as she stared into the fire.

"There will only be war if you force it, Y/N, and you will die along with your people, your wolves, your family..."

Even as he threatened her, he took her hair in his hands with great care. Longer than he remembered it, but just as wild. She never bothered braiding it.

"You underestimate me," she said, lowering her voice. There was no need to yell anymore. As they stood by the fire, the conversation felt intimate. Even if the matter of discussion was unpleasant.

"We have dragons," he answered, curling a strand of her hair around his finger and letting it slip away. "The blood of Old Valyria runs through our veins. How do you think we became your kings in the first place?"

His hands wandered to her waist, where they settled, as he leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, looking into the fire as well.

"We are dragonlords. Fire will consume a regular man, but not us. Your ancestor bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. Your father swore an oath to my brother. Starks aren't known for being oathbreakers."

"Strangers in a strange land is what you are," she mused. "My House can be traced back eight thousand years, to the First Men. We have always been here. This is our land."

She could feel Daemon's grip around her waist loosening, and she placed his hands on top of his, silently asking him not to leave her.

"But you're right, we're not oathbreakers, even if Torrhen Stark made a mistake, we've upheld our vows all these years," she continued. "The problem is... rules change when winter comes. In winter, we must protect each other. And that mandate is above anything else. Even our loyalty to the Iron Throne. It is not power I wish for, it is to be excluded from southern conflicts. And that is not possible if I'm Lady of Winterfell."

She turned around, cupping his face in her hands.

"My dragon," she whispered, tears in her eyes, maybe caused by the intense heat of the fireplace, maybe because she did not wish for this to happen. "I cannot turn my back on my people. Winter is coming. And war is coming in the South, I know it. We cannot be part of it."

"You don't know that," he whispered back, clutching her wrists and pushing her away, refusing her touch. "You would force me to kill you because your lords wish for their independence. They are using you, filling your mind with baseless fear."

"Winter is coming and it is not a lie," she stated, knowing he was aware of it. "Only a fool would not fear winter. Or a son of summer, who has only known the sun and its warmth, and winters so short they are barely cold autumns. This is real winter we are facing."

She broke free from his grip and moved closer to him, their chests almost touching as she looked up at him.

"If I must die, I apologize if it has to be by your hand," she said. "I will not stand down, Daemon. We do not have to fight your wars."

"You say you are trying to avoid war yet you're dooming all your people to die by dragonfire because you refuse to back away from one."

"Haven't you heard? Some Northerners have to die when winter comes, or all of us do."

"I have read about the frozen castles, the men riding direwolves north of The Wall, the food that runs out. It seems rather fantastical."

"So do dragons, yet here you are."

"Yet here I am," he agreed. "I am not a patient man, Y/N. If this is your answer, I will take it to my brother, and I will come back with more dragons to kill you and the rest of the traitors that follow your lead."

"If this is yours, I will wait for you with our army. You might be a dragon, but you forget I am a wolf. My blood runs as thick as yours, Daemon," she defied. "We do not belong as part of the Seven Kingdoms. We never did. We do not share their customs, blood, or gods."

He stared at her, the same way he often did to men when he wanted them to submit, but she did not waver. Wolf's blood.

"Do the direwolves obey you?" he asked, changing the subject.

"They do not," she answered simply. "They cannot be tamed. But they are powerful beasts and they will fight by our side."

"Can the wolves fly? Can they spit fire? Because even with a thousand wolves you cannot hope to fight our dragons."

She smiled sadly, walking towards one of the corners of the room, where a jug of wine and two cups waited on a table.

"Of course we can." She spoke as she served both cups and brought one to Daemon. He accepted it, drinking without taking his eyes off her. "We've studied the Dornish. Dragons can die. And they will."

"Do not get cocky, Y/N," he said, brows furrowed. "It is not wise."

"Riding dragons up north in winter is not wise, yet is it what you promise me. Do not bring them here. They do not belong."

"Dragons can resist low temperatures," he contested.

"Can you?" she asked, an eyebrow raised, as she sipped her wine.

"Are you daring me to bring war to your doors? Do you even hear yourself?"

"I am asking you to reconsider. You can come here with ten dragons and thirty thousand men for all I care," she stated. "You would be out of your element. You would die. We would kill some of you, you would kill some of us, and then winter would kill us all."

"Treason is not forgivable, Y/N. There will be no negotiations. You either submit or you die. Are you sure of this?"

His question was genuine, it was clear in his eyes.

"Just give my message to Viserys," she answered.

Daemon waited a few seconds and then nodded.

"If you were anyone else, I would have your head now."

She ran a hand through his silver hair.

"I know." Her smile as she looked at him was tinted with sorrow. He looked at her too, understanding, as his heart grieved as well.

"I will leave for King's Landing as soon as the sun rises," he said. "And when I return, nothing will be the same again. Do you understand that?"

"It is the hour of ghosts," she whispered. "Dine with me one last time. Share my bed. Do not hurry. It is our last night together. Let it belong to us."

He finished his cup of wine and threw it into the fire.

"Forget about dinner." He took her cup as well and did the same with it. "Until dawn arrives, we belong to each other. Together. As we were always meant to be."

He grasped her chin, his thumb pressing on her bottom lip.

"I do not wish to waste a single minute of it," he whispered.

Their lips clashed together in an instant, hungry, desperate. She arched her back, pressing her body against his, as his hands blindly and shakily tried to undo the laces that tied her dress. She bit on his bottom lip, making his breath hitch, asking him for more as she clung to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He kissed her forcefully, sliding his tongue against hers, letting themselves get lost in each other. His hands still tried to unlace the back of her dress, as he had done so many times before but now the anxiousness to get rid of it didn't let him. She wasn't doing any better as she tugged on his doublet, frustrated when it wouldn't budge, and broke away from the kiss to pull on the small silver chains that held it together, snapping them off one by one. Still agitated, Daemon reached behind him and pulled a dagger. She was so focused on undressing him she didn't notice until he pressed the blade against her skin, between her breasts, and slid it down, swiftly cutting the fabric of her dress.

"Daemon!" she complained, feeling the warmth of the fireplace on her bare breasts. But he just gave her a mischievous look and knelt in front of her, finishing cutting her out of her dress. It fell and pooled around her, leaving her completely naked.

His eyes didn't leave her as he got rid of his also ruined doublet, placing his sword on the floor.

"It would have taken too long," he breathed out, baring his torso.

He lifted a brow, inviting her to join.

In a haze, she knelt down next to him and pressed her lips against his, licking them until he opened his mouth and let her kiss him, moist, dirty, delirious. When he finished undressing his hands found her back and without breaking the kiss he made her lean until her back was on the floor, the rug soft under her body. They parted for just a moment to look at each other, trying to force themselves to burn this into their memory, to never forget.

With her pupils so dilated her eyes were dark, she dug her nails into his lower back, trying to get him to fuck her. To love her.

"Daemon," she moaned, her lips parting as she gasped for breath, hooking a leg around his hips. "Please."

He didn't need anything else, his eyes never leaving hers as he slid into her slowly, making her feel drunk when he was finally buried deep inside her, right where he belonged. She closed her eyes for just a moment but Daemon's sudden grip on her thigh made her open them again.

"Look at me," he whispered. She did as he said and his hand loosened his grip to stroke her thigh, as he slowly slid out of her and in again, setting a slow pace, burying himself deep inside her. Their eyes were connected with lust, longing, and something else neither would ever admit.

Y/N's hands splayed across his chest and she ran them all over his body, feeling his warm skin, his muscles, his scars. Remembering every part of him as if she had never left. He brushed his lips against hers, making her arch her neck up to kiss him, but he denied her, burying his head in her shoulder instead. She could feel his heavy breathing against her skin as she crossed her legs behind his hips, guiding his movements, guiding him back inside her.

She ran her hands through his hair, undoing his braid, letting it free. She felt one of his hands touching her breasts, slowly, his finger circling around one of her nipples, leaving trails of fire on her skin. Time slowed down as he moved to suck on her nipple, making it even harder than it was, making the heat inside her unbearable. She cried out as she grabbed him by his hair and forced him to look at her.

"Kiss me," she begged, the feeling of him sinking into her over and over again almost sending her over the edge.

He did as she asked, engulfing her in a long, passionate kiss. And when they parted, a string of saliva still connecting them, they gazed into each other's eyes, telling each other what their words couldn't say.

"Y/N..." he breathed out, and she knew what he meant.

"Do it," she whispered, running her hands through his hair. "You know, Daemon. I know as well."

"I need you to say it," he insisted, looking at her deeply. "For both of us."

"I am yours..." she said, cupping the side of his face. "As you are mine."

He changed his pace then, slamming his hips into hers and hitting that sweet spot every single time, driving both of them over the edge. As he started losing his rhythm, he leaned down and kissed her desperately. She kissed him back, dissolving into pleasure as she clenched around him and felt him slowly stop moving, spilling deep inside her.

They kissed until they ran out of breath and Daemon rolled to his side, holding her body to follow his.

They lay in front of the fireplace, lost in each other's eyes, their bodies still intertwined.

They would be strangers in a few hours, but for now, they were still allowed to love.

Next part.

Tagging: @batprincess1013 @lollaa-puff @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mamamooqa @queenmendes @chevelledahuman @thanyatargaryen @zgzgzh @boofy1998 @lovelokiqueen @kmhappybunny240 @dudde-44 @dankfarrikdin @gothicgay14 @ilovemarauders @ilovemydinoboi @asgardiandeadpoetsociety @how2besalty @kaitieskidmore1 @thhriller @omgsuperstarg @missyviolet123 @booksnink13

TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.

#daemon targaryen imagine #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon imagine #hotd x reader #queenoficeprinceoffire

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daenerystargaryen06 · 2 months

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I saw a comment on another post about how fans of Daenerys (and those who also support TB) cannot accept criticism of Daenerys' character and go overboard with our love for her.

This statement is entirely false. Daenerys fans do entirely accept Daenerys' flaws and criticism to her character- so long as the criticism is done properly and makes sense. We only go against criticism when said criticism entirely misconstrues Daenerys' character in a false and gross way. Bending the text of the books or even early seasons of the show as an excuse to "criticize" Daenerys is obviously going to be ignored because it presents an entirely false narrative. The ones who do this mainly are Daenerys antis/Sansa stans/Jonsa stans. Most critical points/metas they make against her can be disproven (and have been many times) by reading the text of the books and analyzing Daenerys' show scenes early season before her character became entirely ruined by s8.

Daenerys fans do accept criticism of Daenerys and we do acknowledge her flaws. But the difference is that those who do criticize her often tend to paint her out to be 'evil' or the main villain for ASOIAF/GoT, when she isn't. Daenerys, like every other character in the ASOIAF series, is a gray character. Us fans see and know this. But Daenerys antis only look at her through a lens of black-and-white, which is an issue of itself, considering she isn't meant to be viewed that way. The reason why us Dany fans/stans go against criticism of Dany so much is because it's often wrong and entirely out of proportion, in which we make counter points/arguments backed up with actual textual evidence from the books or scenes from the show. The criticism against Daenerys isn't just critically analyzing her as a character, it's blatant hate and often misconstrued to paint her in a light that makes her seem worse than she is.

When we look in the world and setting of ASOIAF/GoT, Daenerys' actions are just like any other character in that world, only not as extreme, and when she makes the decisions she does within the books she questions the choices she's made and thinks heavily over them.

When you look at the men of ASOIAF and GoT, their actions are in line with/far worse than what Daenerys has done. Tywin has eradicated an entire house, slaughtered countless people, treated his son with disdain for being born a dwarf, etc. Robb executed a man for going against his orders. Jon killed a child (despite the child having taken part in his murder- it was still a child) and is much darker in the books. Tyrion has fantasies of violence towards Cersei, expects Sansa (a child) to want him when they're wed, etc. Robert nearly slaughtered and eradicated an entire House, laughed over dead bodies of children, r*ped Cersei often when drunk, etc. Ned executed a deserter of the Night's Watch. And we all know how terrible Euron and Ramsay are in the books/show.

And yet Daenerys receives more hate than these men over her actions, is viewed more critically, and is 'criticized' far more than said men. Which is unfortunately driven by misogyny. The difference between Daenerys and the men of ASOIAF is the fact that she is a woman. If she were a man, I doubt her actions would be so heavily analyzed and torn into by antis. Anyone could say that isn't true- and yet, it's evident in the way Daenerys is heavily hated and discussed most over compared to anyone else who has done far worse compared to her.

It's not the fact that we don't accept criticism over Daenerys. It's the fact that us fans have to always constantly defend her over hate that is unjustified to her character. Is it even so wrong that we show love and support to her character anyway? I'm sure everyone else does that for their own favorite characters as well and deny criticism to them often if the criticism is actual bullshit over a valid critical and neutral analysis. Why is it so wrong for us fans to do so?

A blog I will always recommend that actually does amazing metas character analysis- @rainhadaenerys.

#daenerys defence squad #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen #daenerys targeryan #daenerys appreciation #mother of dragons #pro daenerys targaryen #breaker of chains #khaleesi #team daenerys #queen daenerys #anti daenerys antis #yes you can have criticism for a character #but when it's misconstrued and the text is used in a false manner- is it really even valid?#this is the same as people who say they like Daenerys but then say she's gonna be a villain and go crazy #bffr #a song of ice and fire #asoif/got

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prince-liest · 2 months

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Hey, since you've written a lot of Alastor-centric fics that explore him having complex relationships with other characters, I was wondering if you had any wip about Alastor & Husk, or just any hcs about them in general!! I find it interesting that Husk is the only one who knows about his deal...

And yes the fact that Alastor owns Husk' soul is pretty bad for any development in their relationship lol. But it also adds flavor to their dynamic! (and Alastor hasn't been THAT abusive with him so far in regards to their contract? He made a death threat but he didn't need to own Husk' soul to do that. He forces him to work at the hotel but Husk used to use the souls he owned like pawns he could gamble away, treating people like property he could afford to lose to other "masters", so he's not worse that Husk in comparison... That's an insanely low bar, I know)

Current WIPS, no, headcanons, yes!

I think their relationship is very interesting, and a lot of that specifically comes from Husk's side of things. I'm honestly fully putting aside the issue of how abusive Alastor has or hasn't been to him, because in the end, slavery is slavery (assuming that's the power that Husk's contract grants) even if one overlord isn't as sadistic as another (Husk himself included), BUT:

I think it's very interesting that Husk and Alastor clearly have a long-term working relationship that includes Husk giving at least half of a shit about Alastor. Their interaction during Mimzy's episode is not very long but I think it is very telling. Obviously it's telling about Alastor's intolerance toward his power and position being questioned, and it's also telling about how much Alastor has been undermined that even someone who knows him like Husk is expressing doubt... but I think its also particularly telling that it includes Husk reaching out to watch Alastor's back (before Alastor bites his head off for it).

I think it's hard to say exactly why he does it - how much of it is because he knows that Alastor getting in trouble also means Husk getting in trouble, how much of it is because Husk is growing to care about the hotel, especially after his episode with Angel, and how much of it is because he's grown attached to Alastor in a weird way over the years, but I personally like to think it's a combination of all three.

Husk was a powerful overlord and I think that's very in line with his portrayal of being someone who distances himself from people in callous ways... but ends up caring more than he intends to when he does get close to them. We most clearly see this with Angel Dust, but I think it's also reflected in his callousness as an overlord and how it turned into regret once he lost his soul to Alastor, and also how he occasionally reacts to the people he's known a long time: namely, Alastor (during the Mimzy episode) and Niffty (when she gets drunk at the club)!

I think Alastor and Husk's lives have been intertwined for a long time, and I also think that it's hard not to grow to care about another person on some level as a result, even if you also heavily resent them, especially if their well-being is your well-being. I don't think Husk likes Alastor very much (it would be hard to in his position) but I don't think he sees Alastor's ownership of his soul as having taken advantage of him so much as a natural consequences of the games he himself played with people's souls, which lets him sit in a position that to him feels less like "victim" and more like "beleaguered subordinate."

And Alastor also does put some effort into keeping things with Husk copacetic. He loses his cool and snaps at him during their confrontation, but outside of that context the attitude he maintains seems to include both being a smarmy jackass and giving Husk actual reasons to work for him other than "or else." It's technically not canon to the show, but I personally consider his bribing of Husk with drink to work for the hotel in the pilot to be canon to my interpretations, at least. It makes sense to me that Alastor wants to maintain a decent working relationship, as opposed to one where Husk would be more inclined to actively sell him out for a dime rather than marinate in his own resignation.

Anyway. Long post! But I think they're interesting, haha.

#ask #personal #Anonymous #hazbin hotel #husk #alastor #long post #meta #my writing

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theweeklydiscourse · 10 months

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Alina is unable to confront her anti-Grisha bias

So there’s an interesting line I came across while reading Shadow and Bone. At first, it seemed insignificant but for some reason I felt the urge to investigate why it had caught my eye. The line in question is the last line in the passage below. It stuck out to me because I feel it is an example of Alina’s self-centered attitude as well as her lack of awareness regarding the position she’s in.

The Darkling opens by trying to explain, but Alina dismisses his words entirely and accuses him of pretending to care about the greater good of the country. While this is understandable on Alina’s part considering she has received shocking news paired with Bahghra’s manipulative framing of the truth, this scene reads as Aleksander trying to reason with a brick wall. Alina says “Don’t pretend this is about Ravka’s welfare. You lied to me.” But I have to ask: what on earth do those subjects have to do with each other? As if him lying automatically means that he must have been up to something. But the connection Alina makes in this quote demonstrates her tendency to fall back on her prejudice in order to avoid confronting the larger issue.

I believe what Alina means to say is “Don’t lie and pretend this is about Ravka’s welfare, if it were truly about Ravka’s welfare you wouldn’t have had to lie to me for months.” However, the irony of her statement is that Alina seems to be under the impression that had the Darkling just told her the truth, she would’ve had a more favourable reaction to the coup. But based on her previous responses to the mere suggestion of treason, it becomes clear that Alina falsely assumes that she is trustworthy enough to handle that kind of information. But she believes that because she still cannot reconcile her anti-Grisha prejudice with her new Grisha identity.

The Darkling puts it very plainly why he couldn’t tell her. The future of Ravka, the future of GRISHA depended on his plan going forward without a hitch. There is so much that could go wrong with the coup, and when they’re being attacked on all fronts, The Darkling would have to be extremely foolish to risk everything on the feelings of a girl he’s only known for a few months. The fact that Alina never reflects on this conversation is so baffling to me, but I imagine the reason for that is because doing so would require her to delve deeper into the plight of Grisha.

Alina cannot take a single second to look outside of herself and consider why the Darkling hesitated to trust her with such a huge secret. She focuses solely on how his deception affected her and makes the issue about her own feelings instead of considering the large-scale implications of what this coup would mean for Grisha.

This passage is one of my favourites, because it really captures the way the Darkling’s patience slips away as Alina continues to childishly deny her culpability in this conflict. He calls her out so succinctly in this moment, that she acted recklessly and thoughtlessly because of her underlying fear of her own identity. It only took Baghra a few accusations because it was the excuse Alina had been waiting for since the beginning. Baghra took advantage of Alina’s prejudice and doubt, validating what she had secretly felt all along. That Alina was afraid of her powers, that she believed that the Darkling was evil, that she wasn’t responsible for the future of the country.

For once, we get a glimpse of the true extent of his frustration and hint of resentment towards Alina. Here is a girl who has the kind of influence that could change the fate of Grisha and rescue them from the exploitation and prejudice they are subjected to. A girl who has everything he ever needed to get his plan through the door, yet refuses to move because of her one-sided dependency on some guy and her crippling fear of being an adult. Alina is literally worshipped by the common folk and Grisha alike, she inspires awe and respect in others by virtue of being born a sun summoner and yet she cannot see past her own self interest. She childishly complains that she never had a choice and that it isn’t fair, falling back into a childlike helplessness and oblivious to her immense power. She refuses to take responsibility which is exactly what sends the Darkling over the edge.

While I know that much of Alina’s reaction to the “Darkling Disney twist villain reveal” is coloured by her fear and insecurity in her new role, this frustrates me so much because it never culminates in anything meaningful for her character. It’s no coincidence that the Netflix show decided to omit this conversation completely, because it presents a character conflict that actually challenges the viewer’s perception of the conflict. The Darkling actually makes a ton of sense in his reasoning and it’s so good that they had to remove it to turn him into a cardboard shadow man that could be killed off in a #girlboss #girlpower moment.

#shadow and bone #lb critical #s&b critical #alina starkov #the darkling #s&b netflix #s&b salt #darklina #aleksander morovoza #anti leigh bardugo #anti baghra #baghra morozova #grishaverse meta #the grisha trilogy #pro darkling #shadow and bone season 2 #aleksander morozova #grishaverse

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applecidersstuff · 6 months

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How about we talk about the whole “Metatron, the voice of the god” thing?

Because it’s a bit weird to me. Like no one in Heaven ever questions the fact that only Metatron can talk to the Almighty. To be honest for me it looks like he doesn’t even talk to them anymore; I mean, maybe he did it before, but now it seems like he just pretends to do it.

For example - the first scene of the second season - Crowley creating the universe.

You know, when you’re making a prototype, you’re usually informed about it; I mean, it’s not like you finish a phone, and then someone goes, “Hey, it was actually a prototype, so now I need you to smash it.”

When Azira comes to Crowley and tells him that the universe will be destroyed in 6000 years, he seems surprised, and it feels like he was told something different. He also mentions that he worked very closely with the original creator, who’s supposed to be God. And Crowley is absolutely sure that he can ask a couple questions and maybe even suggest something.

I highly believe that the Almighty themselves ordered Crowley to create the universe, but then Metatron told Azira about Armageddon. But it wasn’t an order from God but something Metatron wanted. He just masked it to sound like Her order. And when Crowley started doubting what Azira told him, he became a threat to Metatron. In the last ep, Metatron says that Crowley asked too many questions, so what if it wasn’t God who threw Crowley out of Heaven, but Metatron?

And if you’re saying, “God wanted Armageddon, they didn’t do anything to stop it!” you’re wrong. If they really wanted Earth to end, they wouldn’t allow Adam to go to the wrong family. And they would punish Crowley and Aziraphale. Which they didn’t do; Heaven and Hell did, but not God. In fact, they sounded way happier that Armageddon didn’t happen at all.

In the book, there is Metatron in the scene with Adam and the horsemen instead of Gabriel. And when Crowley and Angel start to argue with him and Beelzebub, there is a line that says, “said Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice.” While Beelzebub was angry in the book, and both them and Gabriel were annoyed in the show, Metatron was worried. And it wasn’t the type of worry that ineffable bureaucracy had; they were concerned about sending their sides back to work. But Metatron sounded more like he wanted everyone to forget what Crowley and Azira said.

Crowley’s reaction to God talking to Job is also weird.

When Job talks to God, Crowley seems surprised. He says ‘’but just to be able to ask a question’’. Which is weird considering that it was God, as we’re told, that threw him down for questions.

Crowley was downcasted from Heaven, basically, for annoying God, not for plotting something or joining Satan’s friend group, but for asking too many questions. And now we know that those questions were about a project he and Saraqael were working on alongside God, not with Metatron, not Gabriel, but the Almighty Herself. Also, what Crowley suggests, putting Earth in the middle is reasonable. But that’s not the point now.

So according to that our ‘thin dark duke’ wasn’t supposed to be surprised by God talking, it could’ve been Aziraphale, but not Crowley.

That flashback in fact is really important for the storyline and especially for Crowley’s backstory, she has many suspicious lines, like “the same god that wants me to kill children?” which kinda implies that the actual God doesn’t want to kill them but someone who’s pretending to be god is, or, again, the whole dialogue with Aziraphale while god talks. He also stops Sitith from cursing God, while he as a demon shouldn’t have any problems with that, so maybe he didn’t want her to curse not Almighty but Metatron.

Then we have - Saraqael. They are the only character confirmed to have known pre-fall Crowley and known to work with them. (Aziraphale doesn’t count due to him meeting Crowley shortly before his fall and Crowley not even introducing herself.)

But Saraqael is interesting to me also because they’re the only archangel that we see with a disability(I don’t have any problems with the character or actress being disabled; I love that we have representation.); demons have plenty; angels, on the other hand, mostly appear as perfect creatures. But not Saraqael, and them being disabled looks much more interesting once we learn that they’re an archangel who worked with Crowley.

We know that angels didn’t want to send Gabriel to hell because that may have created wrong thoughts among angels. Considering that Saraqael worked on the universe just like Crowley, they would most likely have the same questions as him, but they’re still an angel and haven’t changed their status.

Also, their name is mentioned two or three times and they aren’t treated like an archangel, the way Michael and Uriel talk, or rather they don’t talk, about them really reminds me of the way they talk about Jim. And Gabriel can’t remember their name, although he didn’t have that problem with Sandalfon or Aziraphale, but he has one with his actual colleague? Both Sandalfon and Aziraphale are not archangels, yes they have a high rank but it still doesn’t make them archangels.

Then again, not only do they not tell Michael or Uriel about Crowley, but they tell Muriel to show him the trial. Why would an angel, especially a high-ranking angel, cover for a demon who’s looking through very important files?

And while Metatron and Crowley have one interaction, things Metabitch says after Crowley leaves are also suspicious in a weird way; while Angel is crushed he tells him that he never really needed Crowley, and then he says “he was always asking damn fool questions” Like, how would you know?? he was talking to God not you.

So my idea is - Metatron isn’t talking to God anymore. I also think that Metatron tried to get rid of God(don’t ask me how I don’t know) and God, knowing damn well about it, ordered Crowley and Saraqael to create the universe, then they created humans so she could hide among them (“And God created man in their own image, in the image of God created they him; male and female created she them.” Genesis 1:27) and ran to earth. They are hiding on earth and waiting for the right moment to come out.

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