#make them live the horrors of the mirror version that they made

[o4o41]

.

[akindaflora]

Lip Mask

Description: (Established relationship) Chan comes home after tour and can’t get enough of your lip mask and well your lips!

warning: mentions of making out, some grinding, lap sitting, one use of the word saliva, Names used Channie Bang Chan and Christopher, mentions of making a video

Definitely will be blocking no age accounts if your under 18 please avoid this one sorry :)

Author note: Did my best to correct any mistakes and rearranged some of the flow but its pretty much the same as the unedited version! Thanks again for reading. <3

Edited 1/29/25 Word Count: 1,335

It had been a rough, dry day—nothing your skincare routine couldn’t help—and your boyfriend, Bang Chan, was home after the tour. After what felt like years, nothing could ruin your afternoon, not even your boss, who was unnecessarily rude today.

Like always after your shower you dried and changed into some comfy shorts and one of Chan’s many black shirts. Washing your hands you began to first brush your teeth, next you washed your face, then you began applying your face and eye cream and finally you applied your lip mask. When you looked into the mirror you definitely weren’t that far off from a disco ball how shiny your face became.

When Chan and you first started dating you noticed how soft his lips were whenever you kissed or in general constantly not hearing him from you staring at his lips which would be followed by a blush when he called you out on it. Though he was never mad more embarrassed after you would tell him his lips looked absolutely irresistible. But because of that obsession with his lips, when winter came you noticed how cracked yours would get and even had a few days where you wouldn’t kiss him out of embarrassment. To which he would tell you after pouting for days on end, constantly telling you that no amount of crack lips could keep you away. Yet his constant support didn’t stop you from finding new ways to keep them soft and after what felt like weeks of trial and error your lips were finally as pillowy as Chans. Smiling at yourself in the mirror from the memory, you made your way to your living room. Where your boyfriend sat on the couch scrolling through streaming services with intentions to cuddle and watch anything with you. It had been a long tour and he intended to let nothing stop him and you time. At the sound of your feet softly patting on the hardwood floor, he looked up quickly smiling as his eyes met yours.

“Hello gorgeous,” he said with a smirk using one of his hands to pat the seat right next to him, “Come here,” he said quietly as he lifted the blanket specifically for living room cuddles. Quickly walking over you plopped down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. This small jester said everything that he didn't need to put into words. “I’ve missed you too,” you said quietly to which he responded with a soft hum and an arm that softly wrapped around your back pulling you in closer if that was physically possible. “What have you decided on?” You said softly and slightly turned your head to look up at the man next to you. After a while, he didn’t respond, from what you could see he definitely had a few eye bags from all the traveling and touring. You brought your hand up to softly caress his cheek missing the softness of his skin and the warmth that followed. After being away for so long you kept talking hoping to wake up the sleepy prince.

“Mmmm, definitely not horror right? Or maybe you wanna watch a rom-com but we both know how that ends” you said with a giggle as his head leaned into your touch and yet he didn’t respond only taking in the details of your eyes, your cheeks, and your… lips? While he didn’t say anything he did giggle when you did so maybe he was just tired you thought so you kept talking.

“Ooo maybe we could watch the new season of Dr Stone or maybe Solo Level? Felix is featured on the “ You were stopped by a sudden quick peck. And before you could question him it just kept going but only on your lips. Every time you opened your mouth another attack would happen until you finally turned your head to the side in a fit of giggles.

“CHANNIE” you streaked, “stop it I just put my lip mask on” you jokingly complained.

“I’m sorry baby but your lips are just so soft” the syllables of soft coming out more like a whine from his lips. “just one more,” he said after hiding in your neck out of embarrassment.

After what felt like a few minutes but only a few seconds you sighed heavily and replied with a bemused fine.

Quickly he grabbed your face bring your lips to his own. But what was agreed upon as one peck turned into a full make-out session. He grabbed your waist nearly pulling you into his lap his other hand holding the back of your neck as if he were afraid you would pull away. But when your hands slowly crept up from his chest to move around his neck he made home of his hands softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your waist underneath the shirt you wore. Successfully pulling you onto his lap.

Your lips become messy with the mix of lip mask and the saliva that mixed between your contact with his. With the way your soft lips and his touched it was more like a pillow fight as each lip overlapped the other. Soft moans left his and your mouth, as he roughly swiped your lower half to his. You pulled back as the high of the kiss started to feel less like heaven and more like air loss. Your forehead met his with a few pants passing from your lips that met his own as you tried to breathe.

Still sitting on his lap his eyes looking intensely into yours slightly darkening as his lips were brought into a smirk. “Channie you said only one kiss that was nearly a make-out session,” you said jokingly pouting. He only quietly laughed still out of breath but as if your lips were his cure he pecked your lips more between each huff. You giggle but ultimately move your head back as his kisses move to your neck. The soft pillows left heat from his breath as they made contact.

“Channie” you whined out in between giggles still trying to catch your breath. He only sighed in the home he made into your neck taking in the scent of your freshly showered skin. “I’m sorry but your lips are incredibly soft, I just can’t get enough!” His head quickly popped out of your neck to look you into your eyes. Finally able to see his face again you noticed your lip mask making his lips extremely shiny from your little session. Shinny and extremely pink as you assumed yours to be, you moved your hands to either side of his face softly letting your thumbs run across his checks quickly swiping some of the mask that rubbed its way on the outside of his mouth before you went back in for a quick peck. Also not being able to resist now that your favorite pillows had become a shiny treat. A rich smile filled with joy popped onto his face but slowly turned into something slightly mischievous.

“Channie wait no what about-“ cut off again as he swiftly picked you up and laid your back softly on the couch as he lay over you his hands caressing the sides of your body as his lips found yours again. This kiss not lasting as long as the other but nearly as intense left you pouting from the lack of contact, “We can make a movie if you’re so worried about it” he said quickly tucking a piece of hair that lay on your cheek.

Feeling the blush on your cheeks you quickly looked to the left. Jokingly tapping his shoulder with a loud smack, his name coming out loudly from your mouth “Christopher!” All he could respond was a quick laugh as his hand brought your face back to his lips. Yeah this was definitely an afternoon for the books, how could not be just your Channie and your skin routine against the world?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After writing notes: If you made it to here thank you ❤️ This is my first time writing anything like this so i only hope i could do you all justice with this fluff. But i couldn’t help but keep thinking about this moment with Channie specially since I started doing a lip care routine. And i mean come on you’ve seen this man’s lips.

-YaYa

[sinfulpepsi]

I’m bored so here are my wrightworth headcanons:

1. Phoenix once walked in on Edgeworth practicing his courtroom objections in front of a mirror, complete with dramatic hand gestures.

2. Edgeworth knits cravats to unwind after trials. Phoenix proudly wears them in court despite their occasional lopsidedness.

3. Edgeworth is surprisingly good at video games, especially first person shooter ones. Phoenix often challenges him only to lose every time.

4. Edgeworth has a meticulous tea-making ritual that Phoenix always interrupts by casually tossing a tea bag into hot water. Edgeworth glares at him every time but secretly makes him a proper cup later.

5. Edgeworth has a secret collection of high-end fountain pens, but Phoenix keeps borrowing them to sign paperwork and forgetting to return them. Edgeworth now hides his favorite pens in a safe.

6. Edgeworth is nervous around small pets. When Maya brings a kitten to the office, Phoenix spends hours convincing him it’s harmless. Edgeworth eventually bonds with it and refuses to admit it.

7. Phoenix once made Edgeworth a macaroni picture frame as a joke. Edgeworth placed it on his desk insisting it’s abstract minimalism and claiming it inspires him.

8. Edgeworth is horrified to discover Phoenix sleeps with mismatched socks on.

9. Phoenix’s fridge contains nothing but ketchup packets, instant noodles, and one sad-looking orange. Edgeworth buys him groceries and leaves passive-aggressive sticky notes on everything.

10. Phoenix does a terrible Edgeworth impression whenever he’s annoyed: “Objection! I’m so perfect! Look at my fancy cravat!” Edgeworth acts unimpressed, but Phoenix once caught him laughing.

11. Phoenix bet Edgeworth he couldn’t sing a karaoke version of the Steel Samurai theme during court. To everyone’s horror, Edgeworth did—and he was flawless.

12. When Edgeworth visits Phoenix’s apartment, he dramatically declares it a “crime scene of clutter” and starts tidying up while muttering, “How do you even live like this?”

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

… a corpse, you say?

tw for blood, injury, gore, self-harm

thats what they call me. a corpse. rotting, covered in disgusting flies, eating away at me. eating away at my soul. i didn’t believe them. i’m no corpse, no dead boy. i just made… a mistake. a terrifying mistake. i gave up myself to a creature that took ownership of me, he ravaged my very being. who am i? the insectine horror that i saw as a father has destroyed Henry Ripley, and left behind a deteriorating shell.

when i saw myself in the reflection of a puddle formed by days of rain, all i could see was the corpse the other children speak of. though the sun had tanned my skin, it betrayed a pallor of one malnourished and dying. my lips could not move, no, they leaked blood, blood in a steady stream down my body! my face torn open at the jaw, showing bloodstained bone. in and upon the wreckage of my being, there were the flies. hundreds, lying within me. spreading blood and pus as they crawled down my neck. their incessant warning buzz fills my ears once again. i cannot feel my face any longer, matted hair falls beneath my eyes as the insects swarm into my wounds—

i grasp at my face, pulling away from the water. nothing. skin only scratched slightly, lips able to open and pant and gasp for air. i crawl back, legs too weak from what i’ve seen. the flies still touch me, still crawling up the skin that is—for now—unmarred and whole. hands holding my own face, i could swear i felt the repugnant feeling of blood between my fingers, pouring from my face, but when i hold them up to my eyes, they are clean save for dirt.

i live and breathe fear. scrambling into the forest, far from the reach of my own monstrous being. the thorns and twigs scrape at my skin but i do not care. anything to get far away from the cursed mirror that showed me a corpse, not a boy. curled upon rocks and leaves in the forest, i cannot catch my breath, nails digging into the palms of my hands. the more i gasp, the more panic i feel. urging myself to snap out of it, I scratch at my own wrists, arms and chest with the sharp twigs that lay beneath me. nothing works, nothing makes me feel whole. like myself.

where is everette? oh, sure he will come back soon. come back and find an empty clearing, where i’ve run from water of all things. i can’t bring myself to go back. with my actual blood smearing over my skin, i curl up and weep for the loss of myself. my humanity.“who am i?”

who have i become? can I ever be henry again? that young, naive little boy, who’s only worrying about making friends? or even the version of me that killed for sport, that hunted, and screamed and cried all on my own? free from the fly man’s clutches.

that night, it rains again. upon awakening, the first thing i see is my face reflected in the surrounding water. a bleeding, destroyed face, swarming with the agents of my father. a sunken face that looks past the grave. disgusting flies crawling in and out of my self-inflicted wounds.

(mentioned: @we-are-richard-lotf, @everettes-requiem)

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

tht finale thoughts--

+ that was very slow motion-y and contemplative and self-indulgent, which honestly, i'll take over a finale where everybody dies! i thought it was just, like, okay, but it didn't ruin the entire show for me retroactively, so i'll take it!

+ however: june and moira not having a big last scene???? moira not getting one last big moment?? moira, one of the great loves of her life????? lame, tacky, hated that. are you serious?????? such a bad choice. just a gaping hole where her last big scene with moira should have been. booooooooooooooo. so disrespectful to their friendship, the character, and the great and too-oft-underutilized-here samira wiley. i wanted one last june and moira moment to weep at, ok.

+ serena being like "if he had ever been free to choose, he would have chosen you" or whatever ... girl!!! she's not talking about nick!!!! she's talking about herself!!!!!!! serena joy "i have a big lesbian crush on june" waterford!!!!!!! I SEE YOU, LADY. FOR ONE LAST TIME, I SEE YOU. i figure her ending was about right. she lost everything except the one thing she truly wanted, which means she got more than she karmically deserved. may she do better with it! it seems like she will. i feel like she and noah are going to have SUCH a weird dynamic; hopefully more lucille and buster bluth than the mom and dude from psycho, i guess. and at least tuello's out there somewhere, having the lowkey hots for a beautiful war criminal and vowing to find her, and june's out there somewhere, and she and serena will probably run into each other again someday under the weirdest and very slightly sexiest circumstances possible. maybe they will edit june's book together and june will be like "ha ha i made you old and bitter and a weird televangelist."

+ so pleased to see the surprise return of emily!!! i watched the first episode this morning to prepare, which was great, because that meant i really caught that parallel. emily and her family are doing okay!

+ i feel like the landslide karaoke fantasy is going to get soooo panned, but i thought it was sort of sweet as june's trauma-informed wild daydream of what she and her girlies would've been doing in a gentler, better world. and i liked seeing alma back! and janine's other eye! edit: apparently this was a reference to a line on the show about them doing karaoke, which i had forgotten because i haven't ever rewatched this show, so! i like the resonance this takes on with that context!! girls just wanna have stevie nicks karaoke instead of the horrors!!!!

+ june and luke had a before and they'll have an after!!!!!! they're gonna go get hannah, i guess maybe in the testaments sequel series!!!!!! (sidenote: god, they should just make it a one-season miniseries if they're doing it at all. PLEASE. enough!) i enjoyed their last conversation and the way things have changed so inevitably and dramatically between them but they're also -- in whatever way, shape or form -- not over because their family is forever. i'm okay that they're not really in a kissing place because her other lover just died at her hand, but hey, maybe again someday. to me. the internet's one and only june/luke shipper, signing off from a better place than i ever would have dared to dream of during any season of this show. 🫡

+ this dialogue vs. the dialogue back when they had atwood to draw from is honestly a shocking contrast. the "cutting edge" line felt legit out of place because the dialogue's gotten so boring and predictable in the seasons since. (not to be mean! just keeping it real!) this has definitely become one of those shows where i can predict literally everything they're gonna say before they say it, which is too bad. but like, whatever, i can live with it. i just would've loved to see a version of the show that had sharper dialogue all throughout, esp. for the series finale.

however: i liked the mirroring of the beginning and the ending! i was suspecting that might be their choice for the end when i rewatched the first episode earlier today, and i thought it bookended nicely. it felt really interesting to see her speaking the words of the voiceover aloud after so many years of interpreting that as her silent inner voice.

+ the tapes! the tapes are happening!!! was there a post-credits scene of the future academic conference? i stopped watching before i could find out for sure. i'm assuming not. but ... maybe?? i might go watch the rest of these credits. bye, guys!

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Headcanons about Dad!Halsin and his half-wood elf daughter

Note: The backstory for this is I just made a half-wood elf character in bg3 and then this came to me. A goldmine of a dynamic if you ask me. Also, Halsin is a girl dad, I will not elaborate. My ranger bias is strong in this one too.

Pre-Realization:

Everyone else but them sees it. Gale is probably the first to notice, making comments about their shared "earthiness." Astarion makes biting remarks about her "rustic charm," which she mistakes for genuine insults. Shadowheart suspects something after noticing how comfortable she is in forested areas and the ease with which she interacts with animals. Wyll just thinks they're both really good at tracking.

She's incredibly proud of her whittled pipe and the unique designs carved into it. Halsin, meanwhile, compliments it, saying it reminds him of pipes he's seen made in specific groves, never quite making the connection. She probably gifted the pipe to Halsin the moment she got out of the Shadowlands.

They're both drawn to helping injured animals or tending to damaged plants. They might even disagree on the best way to do it, leading to mild arguments about whether to use a specific herb poultice or let nature take its course.

She’s a practical Ranger, focused on survival and immediate threats. Halsin, with his Druidic wisdom, often tries to take a broader, more holistic view. This leads to friction in combat, with her charging in and him trying to strategically position everyone.

They both have a habit of absentmindedly pulling leaves or twigs off branches, often fiddling with them while talking. They might even mirror each other's body language in subtle ways, completely unaware.

Her version of the "wood elf" story is vague and dismissive, portraying her father as a distant, almost mythical figure. Halsin, oblivious, might even comfort her, saying, "Some paths are meant to be walked alone," completely missing the irony.

Post-Realization (and her initial horror):

She actively avoids him. Meal times become a nightmare. She hides in her bedroll and pretends to be asleep when he tries to talk to her.

She starts making sarcastic remarks about "over-enthusiastic tree-hugging" and the "joy of communal living," pointedly looking at Halsin.

Astarion finds the whole situation deliciously entertaining. He delights in stirring the pot, making deliberately suggestive jokes about Halsin and watching her squirm.

Halsin, bless his heart, tries to have "the talk" about wood elf mating rituals. She nearly combusts from embarrassment and runs off to the nearest tavern to get drunk.

Underneath the hardened Ranger exterior, she's secretly conflicted. This huge, powerful, respected Druid actually wants to be her dad? It's terrifying and strangely touching.

Building a Relationship:

She begrudgingly accepts going on missions with Halsin, realizing they're actually a pretty effective team. He's a tank, and she can pick off enemies from a distance.

She teaches him practical Ranger skills like tracking and trapping, while he teaches her Druidic lore and about the balance of nature.

He starts asking her about her pipe, genuinely interested in her process and the stories behind her carvings. This becomes a point of connection, a shared love of craftsmanship and artistry.

She eventually accepts him, but with very clear boundaries. No more "talks," no public displays of affection, and absolutely no bear hugs (days never goes by without Halsin squeezing her in his arms).

Despite her initial reluctance, she becomes fiercely protective of Halsin. Anyone who threatens him will face her wrath, even if she has to pretend she doesn't care.

They develop inside jokes based on their shared experiences and the absurdity of their situation. A certain type of mushroom might become a running gag, or a specific monster they struggled to defeat together.

He still embarrasses her sometimes. He'll offer unsolicited advice, brag about her accomplishments to others, and try to set her up with "suitable" partners (much to her horror).

Potential Quest/Story Arcs:

Uncovering the truth about her mother's life and her relationship with Halsin could be a powerful side quest. Did her mother keep her a secret to protect her from something? Did she leave any mementos or messages for her?

A situation arises where she has to choose between her Ranger code and her newfound loyalty to Halsin. Does she uphold the law, even if it means going against her father?

Halsin encourages her to explore her own Druidic potential, helping her unlock hidden abilities and connect with nature on a deeper level.

[sithvampiremaster27]

There are other, BETTER live-action Snow White movies!

Since the new live-action Snow White movie by Disney, which I absolutely REFUSE to watch, is just around the corner, I thought I'd share this with you.

If I want a live-action movie about Snow White, there's already plenty of choices, and now I'd like to list them:

Snow White: A Tale of Terror (1997)

A very dark retelling of the Snow White story, with a lot of misery and death in it; instead of Dwarfs, there are seven ruffians, but they are still miners (and okay: one of them IS a little person, but still); and there's even Devil-worshipping in it, but it's still an interesting take on Snow White. And Sigourney Weaver and Sam Neill are brilliant as the Evil Queen and Snow White (named Lily in this movie)'s father respectively.

Besides, I heard that the Grimm Fairytales were originally horror stories, so I guess this is as close as we can get to a movie adaptation of the original version of Snow White's tale. Maybe old Jacob and Wilhelm would love this film too. In fact, I think they'd prefer this one over the Disney movie...

Mirror Mirror (2012):

I know a lot of people thought this movie was stupid, but me? Personally, I thought it was alright. Julia Roberts was great as the Evil Queen. And the Dwarfs here reminded me of Time Bandits a little

Also, where was Peter Dinklage during the making of this movie? He throws a tantrum, when Disney wants to make a live-action Snow White, yet he was cool with this one using Dwarf actors? Or was it this movie that caused him to throw a hissy fit at the new one?

And now for my two personal favorites:

Sydney White (2007):

In this more modern reimagining of the story, Snow White is a college freshman named Sydney (played by Amanda Bynes), and she helps save the house of Seven Nerdy Students (this movie's version of the Dwarfs) from being demolished by a Sorority of Mean Girls (the leader of whom is film's version of the Evil Queen)

This one is like Snow White, Revenge of the Nerds and Mean Girls rolled into one, with a hint of Animal House.

(Hope Amanda Bynes is doing well...)

And last, but not least:

Snow White: The Fairest of Them All (2001):

Out of all the live-action Snow White movies, THIS is my favorite one! I love the over-all magical atmosphere, I like how the Dwarfs are depicted in this one, and I even love the cast: Miranda Richardson, Warwick Davis, Vincent Schiavelli, Clancy Brown, even Kristin Kreuk as Snow White.

In fact, I might as well watch THIS Snow White on the day the new one comes out. Or better yet: the classic animated Disney movie! Or maybe both...

How is it that I prefer a made-for-TV movie from over 20 years ago over a modern day high-budget Hollywood movie?

There! Those are my personal choices for a live-action Snow White movie, and also my recommendations.

And as for that new live-action Snow White? Yeah, I'm just gonna read the plot summary on Wikipedia and then forget about it forever...

[loulou-land]

So I had this one scene playing out in my head and had to write it down. No idea where I’m going with it. Lol but @fuselsstuff (love you! 💕) has me halfway convinced to making it buddietommy. Or might just write two different versions. We shall see. But for now, here’s what I’ve got:

Buck and Tommy crash through the front door, it slams into the wall, leaving a small dent but they barely notice. Their laughter swallowed by breathless kisses and the urgent scrape of teeth, their mouths fighting each other for dominance. Their hands are busy trying to get at skin, fingers fumbling with fabric, tugging shirts up, shoving jackets off desperate to find warmth and bare flesh beneath. It’s reminiscent of that one night weeks ago, except now they’re in a better place. Their intentions clear and honest.

Their mouths meet again and again, sloppy and hungry, moaning and murmuring into each other's necks like they’ve waited a lifetime for this instead of just an evening out.

They’d made it through dinner. Then a movie. Had restrained themselves. Every glance across the table turned heated, wanting. Every casual touch as they walked, every brush of their arms as they sat through the movie, had been its own special kind of torture. But now, they were lost in each other, giving in to every delicious thought they’d had all night.

Which is why neither of them notices the figure standing stiffly by the kitchen entryway, arms crossed expression stuck somewhere between horror and intrigue.

“Ay, Dios mio,” comes a familiar, bone dry voice. “Right in front of my salad, really?”

Buck and Tommy freeze, lips a breath apart, still tangled in each other’s clothes and limbs. They stare at one another, wide eyed, their confusion mirrored in each other's gazes, before slowly they turn toward the voice’s origin.

“Eddie?” Tommy blinks, chest still heaving.

“Did you break into my house?” Buck blurts out.

Eddie snorts, unfazed. “I’m technically still the tenant.”

“And I changed the locks,” Buck points out, indignantly.

Eddie shrugs as he saunters into the living room and drops onto the couch. “You still haven’t fixed the back window, though. And I got tired of waiting outside.”

“Aha!” Buck declares triumphantly. “So you did break in,” as though that’s the real issue and not that Eddie has shown up unannounced.

“Buck.” Eddie sighs, fondly exasperated.

“Eddie,” Buck echoes, in the exact same tone, smiling widely.

Tommy glances between them, clothes rumpled and expression slightly wary. He clears his throat, “Is everything okay?”

Eddie’s posture softens. He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, looking up at them. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I just needed to take care of something.” A pause. “Why don’t you guys sit down?”

Buck and Tommy look at each other uncertainly.

Buck frowns, suspicion creeping in. “Uh…okay? Why do I feel like I’m in trouble for something?”

Tommy snorts and tugs Buck by the hand, guiding him to the armchair. Buck sits down while Tommy perches on the armrest. They hastily straighten their clothes, shooting each other little looks—half fond, half amused—before settling in and facing Eddie.

Eddie shakes his head at the lovesick idiots. “So I heard from a little birdie that you two almost didn’t get back together. Because of me.”

Buck and Tommy both wince.

“Oh—that’s…”

“Um…Well, you see—”

“Come on, guys. Seriously?” Eddie interrupts, flat and unimpressed.

Buck sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “It was a thing for a while. But we talked it through. We’re good now.” He turns to Tommy, the corners of his mouth turning soft.

Tommy gives a small smile back, just as full of quiet affection.

Eddie watches them, face unreadable, before he settles his expression into something resembling amusement. “Well, I see that…I’m going to need some bleach to erase the horrors I’ve seen tonight.”

“Shouldn’t have broken in then,” Buck shoots back, smirking.

“Yeah, yeah. Next time I’ll knock.” Eddie waves him off. “Anyway, I came here to talk.”

“About Evan and me getting back together?” Tommy asks, suddenly cautious.

Eddie nods, expression turning serious. “About the me of it all.”

[gravityglitch-blog]

Inspired by a fic prompt from @incorrectly-quoting-murderdrones

"Takes place several years before canon.

(Note: I'm imagining N and Uzi as both being around 12-13 years old here)

During a scrap run, Nori runs into N. However instead of finding a murder drone ready to stab her with nanite acid, she finds nothing more than a lump of his torso and part of his head, having been ripped apart by J after a particularly bad hunt. What's worse is that the remainder of his head is crying.

Nori gets to talking to him (mom instincts) and upon the realization that the Solver sent an actual fucking child to come and slaughter his own kind,she decides "fuck that shit", and drags him back to the bunker to live in safety with the Workers.Uzi needs a friend her age anyway."

---

"The New Kid"

ao3 version here

second chapter here

It was like the beginning of a horror story, a child's sobs singing through the nightmare wind.

Nori Doorman, (Subject 002, according to her human tormentors) knew all about horror stories. She'd spent most of her life in one, from the day she was activated, to the day she'd escaped Cabin Fever Labs. She tried to tell herself it was over. She had a home now, a husband and daughter she loved more than life.

But old ghosts never rested. She could hear them humming through her code when nights fell quiet, could see them reflected by her own eye in many a fractured mirror. The Absolute Solver was a curse she'd bear until the end of her days, but it had certain advantages.

She could still use it in a fight.

There had been another attack recently.

The Disassembly Drones were getting bolder, but there was something...wrong about the way this new batch fought. Nori had been helping repel raids from the damned things ever since she'd settled into the Copper Nine colony. Previous squadrons had moved together in a smoothly rehearsed, murderous dance.

These newcomers, three that she'd seen so far, were sloppy. Uncoordinated. Didn't make them any less deadly, though. The colony had lost another family today and several more were wounded. That's why she was out here, in the pre-dawn hours, trudging through a snowstorm and sifting through piles of drone corpses for anything she could use to patch up the living.

If she found any spare battery packs or material that could be used to reinforce the colony doors, even better. Sunlight was death to a Disassembly Drone, and while it wasn't dawn yet, the hour was close enough that Nori thought she'd be safe. She knew how to handle herself, anyway. She adjusted her knapsack containing the night's collection on her shoulder and marched on. The sobs of the unseen child made her feel colder than the snow ever could.

For a frantic moment, she'd thought it was her own daughter, Uzi, having somehow followed her out here. That girl had a natural talent for finding trouble, but Nori supposed she had no one but herself to blame for that. No, this voice didn't belong to Uzi. For one thing, it sounded like a little boy. The swirling wind played a game of keep-away with the sound, so she couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from.

She pressed her gloved hands into the sides of her head, trying to drown it out.

Ignore it, she commanded herself. It's just another one of the Solver's tricks.

But while the Solver understood deception and brutality, it knew nothing of feeling. She didn't believe that it could imitate the despair she was hearing now.

So, she decided to make an incredibly stupid decision and call out.

"Hello?"

The crying stopped at once. "Is someone there?"

Robo-God, this voice was painfully young.

"My name is Nori," she called into the dark.

"I live in this colony. Do you need help?"

"Oh..." the voice was smaller. "You probably shouldn't help me, then."

"Why not?" Nori asked, moving closer now that she had a lock on the voice. Her heavy boots crunched through the snow. "Where are you?"

She rounded past the decayed skeleton of a car. A wave of sickness stopped her in her tracks. Lying atop a pile of Worker limbs was the equally mangled torso of a Disassembly Drone, somehow still alive.

He'd been torn clean in half at the chest, leaving him only his right arm. His wings had been sliced off. His head had been smashed in on one side, and with that crack in his visor, he was likely blind in one eye. Worst of all, he was clearly no older than her own child back home.

So that's why this new batch had been so sloppy. The Solver had started sending child soldiers after them. It must be getting desperate.

"Um...hi?" The Disassembler boy said shyly.

"What in the..." Nori began, her mind rapidly sifting through all her questions. "What happened to you? I fought you things back, but I didn't take it this far."

"Oh, so you were the one," the boy sounded impressed rather than hostile. "You were very brave, ma'am. No, this..." he gestured to himself as best he could. "My squadron leader was upset with me. It was a poor hunt today."

"A poor hunt?" A spark of anger flared amid Nori's sympathy. "Because of you, the colony has four new funerals to arrange!"

The boy's remaining yellow eye creased in remorse. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. None of us want to do this...but we don't want to die, either."

She shut her eyes tight against the memory of the Solver trying to infect her with that same hunger for oil, the lifeblood of her fellow Drones. By some unknown grace, it had failed.

Nori glanced up at the sky, growing lighter by the minute. "Yeah, well, I don't think you get any more say in that than we do, kid. Sunrise will be here soon."

"I know," he whispered. "I deserve this. At least, after today, nothing will hurt anymore."

Nori was trembling. Rage, pity, indecision, the need to do something were at war inside her. Overwhelmed, she spun on her heel and began the trek back home.

"I need to get out of here. I...I'm sorry."

Why was she apologizing to one of the Solver's murder pets? Was she truly losing her mind?

As she stomped away, she heard the boy say a soft, cheerful, "Good night, ma'am."

Something inside Nori's core broke. This...child...was wishing her good night. While he was waiting to die. With a loud groan at her own idiocy, she made room in her knapsack and turned back around.

---

"Nori!" Annie, a brown-haired Worker who was waiting just inside the colony doors, waved her inside. "Thank goodness! We were all getting worried!"

Nori raised her hand in greeting, but kept her eyes on her boots as she strode inside.

She winced as the inevitable struck.

"What in the world..." Annie stammered. "Tell me that's not what I think it is!"

The head in her duffel bag spoke up with a chipper, "Hello!"

Annie leapt back with a frightened yelp.

"I'll explain soon, I promise!" Nori was almost running toward the infirmary now, scaring any unfortunate soul who happened to cross her path. It didn't help that her salvage was so chatty.

"Hi! Sorry about trying to kill you all earlier today. Wow, this is where you live? It's cozy in here!"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Nori growled.

The doors to the infirmary slid open. Infirmary was too fancy a name, perhaps. It was just a few rows of cots, currently occupied by injured Workers receiving oil infusions and having their wounds treated. The most advanced tech they had was pushed into the far corner, a 3D printer Nori and her husband had modified to create prosthetics, if it had enough material.

That's why Nori risked these scouting missions so often. She couldn't help the dead. But they might help the living.

Her husband, Khan, was dozing in a chair pressed against the back wall, their small daughter pacing anxious half-circles around him.

"Khan!" Nori exclaimed. "You know I don't want Uzi in here! She doesn't need to see all this!"

"I'm sorry, honey," Khan said, rising to his feet and adjusting his mustache. "But she wouldn't sleep until--"

"Mom!" Uzi shot forward like a small purple bullet and threw her arms tight around her mother's waist. Nori knelt down to return the embrace. "I'm here, little bug. I'm right here."

Uzi pulled away and began running her hands over Nori's face and hair. She was always like this after a mission. Like she needed to be absolutely certain that her mother had come back safely. Uzi often had night terrors, waking up screaming about being left behind.

It was a generational fear, Nori thought, passed down from herself. She prayed that was all she had passed down.

It was then that Uzi and the boy in the bag met each other's eyes.

"Pretty," the kid said, mindlessly, the word falling out of him like a stray coin.

His eyes instantly hollowed, embarrassed.

So did Uzi's. "Holy crap, it talks."

Khan came up behind their daughter and gave her shoulders a gentle shake.

"Language, young lady," he chided gently.

Two seconds later, he burst out, "Holy crap, honey, what are you thinking?!"

"Just raising the half-dead, love," Nori said flatly on her way to the printer. "We do it all the time around here." She set the Disassembler kid onto a cot and hooked him up to an oil IV. Annie came in to the infirmary next, holding a box of more ordinary medical supplies like bandages and gauze. She and Nori often worked together to save whoever they could after a raid.

Now she approached Nori slowly, as one approaches a potential lunatic. "Nori...what are you going to do?"

"Look at him, Annie," Nori said, getting the printer ready for a long night's work. "He's a kid. Most of the murder was ripped out of him by his own kind. I'm going to print him a Worker body."

Annie's mouth fell open in shock. "Can you even do that?"

"I'm sure as hell gonna try. Here," Nori handed her the sack of the night's gathering. "This should be enough to help patch up the others."

"On it," Annie said, lingering a moment to look at the broken boy on the operating table. Carefully, she brushed her fingers through the tips of his hair. "You poor thing," she whispered, before hurrying to her work.

Khan was at her side now. "Honey, his body's one thing, but what about his programming? The...the you-know-what?"

Not taking her eyes off her workscreen, she answered, "I've been working on a patch for that, just in case we might need it."

She couldn't stop her gaze from wandering toward Uzi, who was curiously observing the new kid from a safe distance.

"I think I've got it down. I've had the infection too long, it won't work on me. But on a younger model, it should work."

Khan shook his head with a tired sigh. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I."

Before too long, the Worker parts were printed, and it was time to start fusing. The process was a painful one. The kid whimpered, and tears bled from his single functioning eye.

That was when Uzi gently intertwined her fingers with his. He looked at her in shock.

"Hey," Uzi said with soft encouragement. "Don't worry. My mom's the best at what she does. You're gonna be okay."

The boy gave a timid smile. "Th...thank you."

"My name's Uzi, by the way. What's yours?"

"Serial Designation N." He tried to salute, then remembered he didn't have an arm available.

"Yikes," Uzi said with a playful grimace. "We'll have to get you a better name than that."

"A real name? For me?" He shut his eyes, the pain and the past suddenly worlds away, while his future was being built piece by piece. "Wow."

[ableism]

Okay as promised to my instagram followers: My Review Of The Substance 2024 ❇️ Spoilers ahead! Tread carefully!

To qualify myself… I’m a body horror buff. If you ask me to list my favorite movies, 80% of them will be about people experiencing horrific transformations and acts of fantastical violence. Body horror is kind of my whole thing! I love French New Extremity, I’ve seen every Cronenberg, I can only get off if something nauseating happens to somebody’s body. I’m very drawn to body horror as a vessel for visualizing experiences of sexual violence and desire(re: Crash 1996, Titane, Hellraiser) or dysphoria/dysmorphia (also Titane, Being John Malkovich ((I will fight you to death, it IS body horror, die mad)), Tusk) but I think a lot of the genre leans into the ways our lives and bodies are altered by technology and the possible consequences of these extremes (The Fly, Crimes of the Future 2022, Tetsuo the Iron Man, and you guessed it, Titane AGAIN).

Immediately I’m thrilled by how The Substance hits every single one of these genre concepts. It makes the concept feel more suffocating and inescapable than other films that deal singularly with their messaging. Elisabeth is trapped by perceptions of her body on all sides; she takes the drug because she’s been deemed undesirable and devoid of value by the same people who made her famous in the first place. To escape this, she creates (through a disfiguring and grotesque process) a conventionally desirable vessel. The chase to obtain beauty is worth the most violent of undertakings. For her prime self, it generates more self loathing and degradation of her self image. For the secondary self, she continues to experience profound amounts of objectification, still valued only for her desirability, her youth, her performance of childlike naïveté. I saw an excellent review that stated The Substance holds the viewers accountable through the scenes of full nudity and salacious dancing to interpret the way we’ve been trained to default to a sexual view of bodies, physical movement, behavior. We’re made complicit in Elisa/Sue’s dehumanization.

The Substance depicts dysmorphia through body horror in the most articulate way I’ve ever seen. Logically, the viewer knows; This is not how aging works. This woman is not decrepit and wasting away, she’s just middle age. But in the digital age, youth is capital, and youth is sexually desirable and attractive. It may not be the reality of aging, but this is how we’ve been conditioned to feel about the natural course of our lives. The solution is not self acceptance. It is products, procedures, adapting diets rooted in a culture of systemically encouraging disordered eating. Elisabeth’s body becomes worthless, just a source to be used as a fountain of eternal youth. Her pain, deformity, depression, are all irrelevant if it means she can temporarily experience youth. When she tries to stop the procedure, deformed into a funhouse mirror of what an elderly person actually looks like, Sue beats her to death in a blind rage. Her appearance makes her worthless. Her perversely obtained youth is the “only good part” of her. The metaphor frankly could not be clearer and Im not… shocked per se to see people not getting it online, because I know media literacy just isn’t for everybody, but it’s straightforward and concise. That isn’t to say that The Substance isn’t full of other commentary and room for interpretation.

A lot of people in me and D’s screening were laughing during the Mostro section of the film. I spent a decent chunk of it crying! Again, media literacy isn’t for everybody, and I’m the ideal audience for this one with the existing body of knowledge to appreciate what was done here, but we still found it quite distasteful. It’s terrible and grotesque and is the most robust and “bashing you over the head” part of the metaphor. To make it abundantly clear what was being said: The best version of yourself that you could ever be is the person you are, and the person you have always been, exactly where you’re at.

At her most fantastically deformed (HUGE credit to the practical effect work in this movie, which we’ll talk about a little more in a second), she wishes she could just go back to who she was before any of this happened. None of it was worth the terror, and now she’s trapped in a monstrous body, with the same soul and character she had the entire time. It offers the sense that her body is simply something that is now happening to her, rather than just existing, or being contended over, as previously seen. It’s a level of constant infliction she could not have imagined. Loss of control is a large theme of The Substance, the point being clearly that you cannot stop the natural progression of your body’s changing, and intervention only worsens your ability to perceive your body as your own. She dresses up to perform anyways. She tries to curl her few strands of hair. She stabs earrings through her almost inconceivable skull. She just cannot stop trying to be beautiful. It’s all she’s ever been allowed to be. When she goes to perform, she is screamed at in horror by the audience, while calling out “It’s still me! It’s still me!” to no avail. Nobody ever cared who she was or how she felt, only what her body could do for them.

That’s my general plot analysis but for Other Bullshit… I cannot gush enough about the homages paid to Cronenberg in this film, and the follow through on visual language borrowed from Carrie and The Shining. It was viscerally satisfying and just a lot of fun for horror enthusiasts. The director spends so much time being totally original, while still occupying the sandbox Built by other pioneers of the genre, and I absolutely loved seeing a female director in body horror taking up the space to say “You did this, it was incredible, and here is the fresh and enthralling ideas I’m bringing to the table.” It was a body horror movie my beloved Cronenberg could not have made. That’s not to decry his skill and vision, but to praise The Substance for its bold direction and fierce representation of uniquely woman-centered body horror. To hype up my favorite little things, I adored all the flies buzzing around in the beginning of the movie before she undergoes any transformation, I love that the catalyst for her taking the drug is getting into a car crash, I love that all the sets full of evil male directors are stylized after Kubrick’s Shining (because FUCK that guy! I piss on his grave!), I love love love that the beheading at the end is the same as the head pop scene from the beginning of Scanners, and I just cannot get over the Mostro suit. It’s sublime, and the actresses deserve joint best actress Oscar’s for what they accomplished in them. Holy fucking shit! Oh my gd! Wow!!!! It’s the same feeling at the end of The Fly, but with such a fresh take, the same sharp attention and reverence for practical FX work, and drawn out for much longer, with much more modern capability to enjoy the suit for longer, from more angles, with more gritty detail. It’s not trying to emulate or elevate anything. It’s just a perfectly present and challenging addition to the genre at large.

I love that none of the men in this movie were fully formed human beings. They’re the most uncanny and robotic part of the whole film. They question and belittle the personhood of the women they encounter, so the director takes the time to strip them of theirs. It’s really not about the men here. Hell yeah! I’m also glad that there was no sexual assault scene in this film. I don’t mind this content at all and I’ve seen many done in an incredibly visceral way, I’m pro-depiction of everything and anything, but The Substance didn’t need one. The whole thing is an act of sexual violence. It’s stronger that way and was the perfect decision. And since you knew it was coming… The Substance is one of the best , if not the best, addiction allegory I’ve ever seen. The other you, the real you, is just a life source for the impostor, It takes and it takes until there’s nothing left. I felt it strong and will definitely be looking for more readings on the same page so I can expand more at some point, but I found it very clear through the visual language of IV drug use, tooth loss, aging, etc. that there was a strong point on addiction being posited in The Substance.

So that’s my enthusiasts review!!! If i was unclear: Go see this movie. If you’re a sensitive soul or new to/unsure about body horror and specific types of gore, Please check online for trigger warnings, because it is a very graphic and brutal piece of film. I’ve seen pretty much every indie horror released in 2024 and as much as I did enjoy Longlegs and Cuckoo, The Substance blows them both out of the water. We’re in the age of women in horror and I love it!! It’s fucking awesome!!!! Go watch The Substance and then eat a bug. Stay vigilant I love you 🦩

[snowfires]

their reactions to reader drawing them 🎤

Cross gets really emotional. He has a complicated relationship with art. When his world was gone, drawing with Ink was the thing that brought him back to life and gave him hope… only for Ink to rip that hope apart. He’s occasionally started to draw in secret over the years since he joined Nightmare, but still doesn’t find as much joy in it as he once did.

So when the love of his life gives him a drawing she made of him??? He just starts crying. Something he gets very embarrassed about afterwards.

He keeps it safe in his room, and starts leaving little sketches for you in the letters he loves to write. Eventually, he would ask to draw together. Making pictures with his head pressed against yours… it lifts a weight from his shoulders at long last.

Killer is very pleased. You made this for him? That’s so sweet. He’ll carve something for you—anything you want. He’s incredibly talented.

Dust is a little worried, when you tell him you’ve made a drawing of him. Sometimes when he looks in the mirror and sees himself looking no different from when he was Sans… it sends him spiralling.

But the way you draw him… mysterious and powerful and nothing like who he used to be. You don’t care about his past lives at all.He likes it a lot, and also keeps it stored safe in his room.

Unlike the others, he never really adopted an artsy hobby that he could use to repay you with. But he’d like to take you to his observatory, show you the stars that remind him of your soul… If you want.

Horror smothers you in cuddles and nuzzles. It’s nice, knowing you love him as he is. He’ll make you a truly lovely topiary in the garden in return.

Nightmare is positively tickled. You can draw, and created something of him? He has dabbled in painting over the years (he will refer to it as dabbling, but he is incredibly good) and also enjoys commissioning pieces from the universes he calls his. If you’re deep in your relationship with him, he’ll have already made several of you, but he’ll paint an especially lovely portrait in return for this gift.

He would adore taking painting/drawing lessons with you. It’s a good hobby for an immortal—something that takes time to master, and which is always changing and developing over time. Doing it with his beloved is an added bonus.

Error scrutinizes the gift thoroughly before deciding he rather likes it. You know he’s telling the truth when he keeps it in the antivoid instead of his room at the castle. He knits something for you return—if he hasn’t already, he’ll make little plush doll versions of you and him for you to sleep with, out of the finest fabric he can steal.

[dartxo]

Nosferatu (2024)

(beware of spoilers)

I have watched Robert Eggers' Nosferatu two times now, after waiting excitedly for its release for many months. Needless to say, it lived up to my expectations, and exceeded them even. I loved it. It was a masterful, artful blend of Bram Stoker's novel, the 1922 film, a bit of the 1979 film, and other iterations of the Dracula story, whilst feeling authentic, fresh and original at the same time.

The overall atmosphere in the film was terrific. Everything, from the performances, the cinematography, and the set design, all contributed to an oppressive, claustrophobic, rank feeling.

Count Orlok looked and sounded amazing. The deep, guttural, heavily accented voice; the raspy, sickly breath; the disgusting noises he made as he gorged himself with blood; you felt all that in the stomach. I love the nods to early vampire folklore, like him being a rotting corpse, or him feeding by biting the chest instead of the neck. And perhaps most of all, I love that they gave him a big, bushy, fierce looking mustache. A source of deep annoyance for me in most Dracula screen adaptations I've seen is that the Count almost never looks like he's described in the book. I can't explain how much I appreciate that they made more of an effort this time. Admittedly though, this vampire, like Max Schreck's version, looks a lot more foul than the Dracula from the book. But I'm not complaining. He positively oozed with evil, and I loved it. And I really liked that, until the sun shines on him at the final scene, we never see his full features all that clearly. He is always shrouded in darkness and shadow. Maybe I would have liked if they had done something to his eyes, either making them cloudy and dull like a corpse or shiny like a predatory animal at night. But Bill Skarsgård's fixed, intense stare does the trick just fine. He wouldn't be out of place in a silent horror film.

I loved the callbacks to the 1922 film. A lot of the shots mirrored the ones in the original very well, like the carriage coming to collect Hutter in the forest, and of course Orlok's shadow creeping across Ellen's house. And I also loved the little homages here and there to the original cast and crew: Ellen's cat is named Greta after the 1922 actress, and the Van Helsing character is named Albin after the 1922 producer and production designer. The contract that Orlok makes Hutter sign is also written in the same strange, occult language as the contract in the original film. Great attention to detail. And I appreciate that Ellen's psychic connection to Orlok, hinted at but not really explained in the 1922 Nosferatu, got expanded upon here.

The nods to the book were great too: the Count's command of the wolves, and his pride in his heritage; the old innkeeper giving Hutter a crucifix and begging him not to go; Hutter trying to kill Orlok in the castle crypt, and later committing himself to destroying him to protect and free his wife from his influence. And I also really liked that in contrast to the 1922 film, but more in line with the novel, the side characters have more of a personality, and more to say and to do. The original film centers more on Hutter at the beginning, then he takes the back seat and the focus shifts to Ellen, with Orlok and Knock serving as antagonists, but the other characters not doing or saying much. In this Nosferatu, like in the book, the characters form a small vampire-hunting crew, and that was very neat. And the scene with Harding at the crypt felt somewhat reminiscent of the scene in the book where Arthur stakes Lucy, in a morbid, macabre sort of way.

Maybe I wish there had been more scenes at the castle and on the ship (hoping we get those in the announced extended edition). Some inclusion of the three vampire sisters from the novel would have been interesting, but not really necessary. And part of me wishes Orlok had burst into flames, or vanished in a puff of smoke after being hit by the sun. But blood bursting out of his body as he died, and him reverting to a lifeless, inanimate corpse is in tune with folklore too. And in any case, that final shot of his dry, shriveled body lying on top of Ellen, with flowers on the bed, was a beautiful way to end the film. It looked like a painting.

All in all, it was a beautiful, amazing, haunting film to watch. To me, it's probably the best vampire film since its 1922 predecessor. True to the spirit of the original Nosferatu, and the original Dracula, and I really couldn't have asked for more.

[naxalbari1967]

Israel Was Inspired by Nazism, Not the Holocaust

Zionism didn’t rise from the ashes of the Holocaust. It didn’t emerge from the smoke of Auschwitz with a vow of “never again” for all humanity. It was already fully formed before the Nazis ever came to power. And what it shared with Nazism wasn’t trauma. It was ideology. Settler colonialism. Racial supremacy. The belief in blood and soil. The obsession with ethno purity, land conquest, and the glorification of violence. The Holocaust didn’t create Zionism. It gave it cover.

Look at the timeline. The Zionist movement was already laying the groundwork for a Jewish state in Palestine in the late 19th century. Theodor Herzl, the so called father of Zionism, didn’t speak in terms of peaceful coexistence. He wanted a Jewish state cleansed of Arabs, rooted in Europe’s colonial model. He didn’t reject antisemitism. He accepted it as inevitable and tried to leverage it. Herzl wrote that “the anti Semites will become our most dependable friends, the anti Semitic countries our allies.” That wasn’t self hatred. It was strategy. Zionism grew by adapting to European racism, not resisting it.

And then came the Nazis. The very people who rounded up Jews, gassed them, burned them, starved them. But even then, some Zionist leaders saw opportunity. In the 1930s, the Zionist Federation of Germany sent a memorandum to Hitler’s government supporting his goal of a “racially pure” Germany so long as Jews were expelled to Palestine. The infamous Haavara Agreement of 1933 allowed German Jews to escape to Palestine but it also helped the Nazi regime break an international Jewish boycott of German goods. The WZO made deals with fascists because their goal wasn’t to save Jews everywhere. Their goal was to concentrate Jews somewhere even if it meant sacrificing the rest.

What Zionism took from Nazism wasn’t just logistics. It was worldview. The Nazis believed in Lebensraum “living space” for the Aryan people. They believed Germany had the right to expand eastward, displacing or exterminating the “lesser” Slavs, Jews, Roma. Zionism believed the same. Palestine was the Zionist version of Poland. A land supposedly without people for a people without land. In truth, it was full of people Arab Palestinians, farmers, workers, students, entire communities. But just as the Nazis erased whole populations with one racial category, so did Zionism erase Palestinians by declaring them “non people.” The slogan “a land without a people” was a lie with genocidal consequences.

The Zionist militias didn’t fight like victims. They fought like conquerors. Irgun, Haganah, Lehi these groups carried out massacres, blew up hotels, assassinated diplomats, bombed markets. They targeted civilians to create panic and drive Palestinians from their homes. Just like the Nazis used terror to clear out towns for German settlement, Zionist forces used terror to clear villages for Jewish settlement. Deir Yassin, Tantura, Safsaf, Lydda these were not accidents. They were strategic. They were about instilling horror to make room for a new ethnostate. And many of the tactics mirrored fascist paramilitary groups across Europe.

Even the structure of the state followed fascist logic. Militarism became the national religion. Every citizen must serve. Every inch of society geared toward the army. Arab parties banned or neutered. Dissent crushed under “security” laws. Loyalty oaths. Population registries. Surveillance. Borders defined not by law but by force. “Eretz Israel” was not a political boundary it was a mythic entitlement. Just like Nazi Germany claimed territory based on blood and soil, Zionists claim every inch from the river to the sea belongs to them by divine right. That’s not democracy. That’s racial expansionism wrapped in sacred language.

The result has been 76 years of organized violence. Occupation, checkpoints, collective punishment, home demolitions, assassinations. The wall through the West Bank. The open air prison in Gaza. The sniper fire on medics, on children, on journalists. The mass arrests without charge. The normalization of torture. Palestinians labeled “human animals” or “terrorist breeders” the same way Nazis labeled Jews as vermin. This is not the language of liberation. This is the language of fascism.

And to call it a response to the Holocaust is obscene. The Holocaust was the mass murder of Jews, Roma, communists, Slavs, queers millions by a racist, expansionist state. But instead of fighting racism and expansionism, Israel adopted their logic and changed the target. Instead of resisting fascism, they recreated it with a blue and white flag. That’s not survival. That’s imitation.

Zionism didn’t save Jewish dignity. It weaponized Jewish grief. Survivors of the camps were not all welcomed in Israel. Many were traumatized and poor, considered weak, even called “soap” by Israeli elites. The state wanted strong, militant Jews. Holocaust survivors were useful only as symbols not as people. The memory of Auschwitz became currency for state violence, a shield for apartheid. “Never again” was narrowed from a universal promise to a nationalist slogan.

Meanwhile, the Jews who resisted fascism the communists, the partisans, the diaspora organizers were erased from the Zionist narrative. Israel wanted the image of Jews with guns, not Jews with unions. It celebrated the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising but ignored the fact that many of those fighters were anti Zionist. It honored resistance only when it could be bent to its nationalist project.

The irony is brutal. Zionism claimed to offer Jews safety. But it built a state in permanent war. It put Jews at the center of global resentment by tying their identity to a military occupation. It silenced Jewish voices that speak for peace and solidarity. And it turned victims into oppressors.

Israel was not born from the Holocaust. It was born from the same colonial and fascist systems that produced the Holocaust. It did not reject Nazism. It reflected it. Its founding violence, its ideology of racial entitlement, its erasure of the native population, its obsession with walls, guns, and purity all of it is steeped in the same poison.

To expose this is not antisemitism. It is anti fascism. And anti fascism today means standing against Israel’s crimes not because we hate Jews, but because we refuse to let another generation suffer under the boot of supremacist ideology. We owe it to the victims of fascism everywhere including in Gaza, Nablus, and Hebron.

[winchestermysterymachine]

Do the Winchesters know the difference between there, their, and they’re?

Dean Winchester

you wanted dean more than you wanted anything else in the world. you prided yourself on not needing a man, but dean treated you like a princess. it's just that he always looked rather bored. like he could be doing something else, somewhere else, with someone else and it bothered you. it'd bother anyone if the guy you were interested in, looked as if he didn't give a fuck about you. it crushes the soul and breaks your heart and makes you question every single thing about yourself. it probably takes him a long time to even realize that you are there. alive, well, happy, wanting him. he's not used to feeling wanted. he personally feels like he's living on borrowed, or more so, stolen time. he probably even has a slight fear of settling down. like he's cursing those around him, the family he could have, with his past. knowing that one day he'll inevitably pass along some of his own father's dna. plus, the feeling of being tied down to another person makes dean feel stuck, trapped. it takes him a very long time with your guidance to realize that maybe having someone around to tie him down doesn't always mean negatives. there are so many positives. but until then, you prance into every bar like you own it. stealing guys from stools and the dance floor to busy your mind with. if you can't have the one you love, then it'll be someone else you'll kiss. even if they don't satiate the burning in your chest that dean winchester can only ignite and put out, it's something rather than nothing. you can pretend they're him. even if you know he's more experienced, he can understand your body in a way no one else could. your mind is always elsewhere with those guys, but soon. soon dean winchester will be all yours and there's nothing anyone, or even him could do about it. you've already marked him yours to the world without him even knowing.

“Since the good ones are deceased or taken, I’ll just keep on moanin and bitchin.”

Sam Winchester

you had been lucky to know sam for a long time. longer than any outsider got to know a winchester without inevitably being murdered or disappearing. he had heard every little story about your love life. you were never one to say no to a date. free lunch or free dinner, free coffee, making tricking the guy into purchasing you a new purse or shoes. you always made sure to get something out of it. it annoyed him a bit, the way you went out with so many people. of course he believed in the saying 'i support all woman's rights and wrongs.' because that's just who he was. but he felt bad that no matter how many dates you went on, none of them seemed to stick. even though you were the female version of his older brother, he could tell that you longed for something more time consuming and long lasting than a random diner date and a new purse (which dean usually just makes you sell in exchange for a motel night). little did sam know, he was feeling exactly what you wanted from him. almost as long as you had known sam, you had a bit of a crush on him. it was deep, and you were basically almost in love with him. you didn't even consciously admit that bit to yourself because once you do, you're screwed. you'll wait for the day he says it first. you're sure it's going to come because every single night you tell him about your most recent date, or a random horror story, he gets this sad look on his face. he feels so bad. he makes attempts at helping you feel better. buying you ice creams and cookies. getting nicer hotels rather than motels so you three can abuse the powers of the hot tub to relax. he makes sure all your shows are ready to be cues on the television by the time you get back. or maybe even making sure you're all stocked up on shower supplies or makeup or hair thing's. he'll ever purchase you little thrifted items like hand held mirrors, tiny cat trinkets, just something to make you smile. he doesn't even know that you want him to do these thing's with for you. you think of all these little moments as dates. all the gifts as anniversary presents. you're a little insane, but he's going to learn to love it soon.

“Missing all the thing she’s missing, god knows that he isn’t livin large.”

Castiel

it's sometime too early in life where you realize that you're probably going to end this life alone. you're not dramatic (scratch that, you are), these are just the thoughts you've been plagued with your entire life. from the age that girls begin day dreaming about their future spouses, planning marriage and baby names, what kind of dog or cat they were gonna have, and over all all the lovey dovey shit that didn't even phase you, you realized that none of these guys suited you. bradley was too awkward. chance was too quiet. devon was too short. every single guy in your classes just had one thing they were missing. maybe you were just trying to find an excuse to not date, too occupied with studies to even think about swapping spit. the more you aged, the more you seriously felt so alone. daniel was too mean for someone who couldn't afford to live somewhere his mother wasn't. alexander was far too into sports and would probably kick your ass if his team lost. you've always had to make do with what you got. until the feathered angel appeared. all golden glow, strong, fearless, powerful. you subconsciously knew you were saving yourself for the perfect man, but he wasn't even man. he was hand crafted by god himself to perfection. sweet, kind, loyal, hard working, determined. you were never meant to be with a human. every thing you had found as a red flag in others weren't appearing in castiel. no, you weren't meant to be with man, you were meant to be with angel. a sweet, sweet angel. but castiel has his head so far up god's ass that he can't see anything else other than order. law. peace in heaven. he can't see the bigger picture, not yet, and not for a while. you had once thought you were meant to be gay, but as much as you appreciated another woman, nothing was clicking between you. and even though you felt like the lord had forgot to grant you a gay awakening, he had granted you something else. a guardian angel. he can't see that yet. he will. until then, you'll find ways to keep yourself busy. the burning warm need to have him crawling around your stomach and made your chest ache every time you woke up with someone else in bed. but you needed to do something about that need before you clawed castiel's trench coat and tie from his body and showed him thing's his brain couldn't compute. you weren't going to traumatize him. you're sure that one day, one day he'll come to his sense and realize you've been waiting for him the entire time. until then, you'll just keep on moaning and bitching.

“A boy who’s nice that breathes, I swear he’s nowhere to be seen.”

So Jesus, what’s a girl to do?

[tearfallpixie]

Music of My Soul - Chapter 5: New Lineups

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“Good evening Denver!” Chris addressed the crowd as the lights came up over them. “You are on it today.” They all cheered even louder than they had been and I grinned from my place next to Vinny. “As you can see, our lineup is a bit different tonight. So let's do a reintroduction shall we?” There was another cheer. “On drums we have the fabulous fiery Vinny Mauro.” Vinny did a little trill on his kit and waved. “Justin Frankenstein Marrow gracing us on the bass.” Justin just made faces to the crowd and so did Ryan as he got introduced.

“Ryan Skiez Sitkowski on guitar. Ricky Horror Olson back on guitar.” Ricky played a little riff on his guitar and waved to the crowd as well. “And last but certainly not least our new permanent keyboardist, the beautiful Dakota Grace.” I smirked and played the opening notes to The Black Parade making the crowd cry out in shock and Ricky and Vinny burst out laughing. “Now thats just cruel.” Chris grinned. “I am your host Chris Motionless and we are Motionless in White. We love you guys!” He called as we started playing Slaughterhouse.

I watched as the boys danced around the stage and grinned. They were so lively. We moved onto another song and out of habit of the last few weeks I started singing on one of the bridges.

“No hope, no time. Can’t go back, can't rewind. I still belong to you.” My eyes went wide as I realized what I had done but in order to play it off, I kept going. “No hope, no time. Can't go back, can't rewind. You still belong to me.” We played the rest of the song and afterwards Ricky came up to me. “Ricky, I’m so sorry.”

“Don't be! We sounded amazing together.” He exclaimed. “Sing scoring with me too.”

“What? No!”

“Do it! Or I’ll make Chris make you.” He threatened with a smirk. I scowled and he jumped off the platform victoriously.

“The dawning of a new age. These aren't just notes on a page. These are the weapons of rebirth.” I sang once we reached the last song. “The dawning of a new age. Where we will take back the stage. And score the ending of the earth.” If possible it seemed the crowd was even more obsessed with that verse than before.

“What the fuck? That was insane! Your voices fit so well together.” Chris freaked out when we all got off stage.

“I told you she would give Rick a run for his money.” Vinny laughed, tapping me on the head with his drumstick.

“Are you ok sharing your parts?” Chris asked Ricky.

“With her? Hell yeah.” The guitarist confirmed.

“Cool. The fans loved it tonight.”

“You two should sing the cinematic version of Eternally Yours and have her sing.” Ricky smirked.

“Noe you’re just asking for trouble Olson.” Chris launched at him and I watched them tussle adoringly. I let out a giggle and both boys stopped and looked up at me.

“You’re adorable.” Ricky popped off and my cheeks went red. “I’m sorry! I didn't mean-”

“Ricky. It’s fine. Thank you.” I murmured. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek before going to take a quick shower.

~~~~

“Settle in. We’re in for a long drive.” Chris said as I stepped onto the bus. I groaned and dropped my bag at my bunk before returning to the front. Chris pulled me down on top of him and Ricky.

“Sorry.” I mumbled trying to squirm away.

“You’re fine.” He murmured, putting his arms on top of my legs and turning on The Office. I blushed for the millionth time that day because of the tattooed guitarist and decided to just settle in.

“You know the whole world will start speculating about your relationship now just by how you acted on stage right?” Justin teased from his spot on the other couch. I swore a hint of jealousy crossed Ricky's face but he didn't move so I just brushed it off.

“So what? Who I decide to date is my business.” Chris shrugged, wrapping his arms around my waist tightly.

“They’ll probably be mostly upset by the fact that you and Rick didn't get back together.” Vinny popped off, not tearing his eyes away from his game. He was playing World of Warcraft on his laptop and I hadn't even realized he was listening.

“You two dated? That's news to me.” I smirked at the singer.

“Yeah, for a couple of years when he first joined the band.” Chris said guiltily, dropping his head so his bangs covered his face. I felt his muscles tense around my waist and I could tell he thought I wasn't going to be happy about that.

“What happened?”

“Devin fucked us all up mentally when we found out what he was saying so we took a break. I dated Gaia. Ricky found Jamie and we never really talked about it again.” He said. There was regret written all over their faces and they glanced at each other.

“I hope it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable.” Ricky mumbled.

“That you two are bi? No, why should it?” I asked.

“Because we used to sleep together.”

“And? He used to sleep with Gaia too but that's in the past.” I shrugged. Ricky seemed to relax and nodded before shoving my legs off of him and standing up.

“I’m tired. I’m going to go lay down.” He went down the hall before any of us could say anything and we all just watched him go.

“Do you think he’s ok?” I asked Chris, adjusting myself until I was sitting next to him.

“He said he was tired. Leave him be until we get to the hotel.” Chris murmured, kissing my temple.

“I forgot we were in a hotel tonight. Thank god. I need a bath.” There was resounding agreement from everyone in the lounge seeing as we had been on the bus for over a week now without proper beds.

[sketchfan85]

A Little Moxxie Love Lore: The 101 basics of Hell and those who call it Home.

Hell is often said to be what you make of it, Jean Paul Sartre once remarked it was being trapped for eternity in a room with all of your friends but really of course he'd say that. Given that all of his friends were French but I digress. Many of course when they hear of Hell, no matter their religion, often think of the first thing that comes to mind in the form of a wasteland inferno. A deep black pit of torment and agony where the damned souls of murderers, rapists and all sorts of the worst life had to offer would go and forever suffer torture and punishment for an eternity for all the horror and bad choices they'd made in their time on earth.

Well that's only rather partly correct, but not the full story for you see, Hell had tiers or layers so to speak at least in this universe. Much like how Dragonabll, you had the vast universe, divvied into sections from north to south, west and east, planets like earth, the afterlife, heaven, hell,the realms of the kais that oversee the universe, this Hell had sections. In the deepest levels of course you had the common knowledge aforementioned hell, reserved for the worst of humanity and some demons who were just generally too unpleasant and not worth dealing with or tolerationg which left them to take their aggression and frustration out on the damned, the rapists,child molesters, the Hitlers, Stalins, Kim jongs, guevaras and Epsteins of the world all through nine cirlces.

And then you have the more surface level so to speak with which many you may all be more familiar with, a 7 ring levelled warped, twisted demonic mirror version of our own world and societies. Due to its proximity towards limbo and how fickle religions can be as to what constitutes and qualifies as sin, on top of not even Heaven itself knowing how a soul gets into either place. So many a soul can often wind up in Hell as one of many Sinners for who knows what minor offence could be damning, some theorise that the bureaucracy within the afterlife’s limbo is often to blame due to all the red tape and paperwork involved in processing a soul. This also applies to the possibility that The Pride ring, especially pentagram and it’s proximity to purgatory make this surface level of hell equivalent ti probation period of certain sinners, Chen why some have the possibility of being redeemed and getting into heaven.

The seven rings of heaven are of course occupied by a constant shifting population of Hellborn, demons who are natural born and raised natives of the inferno with many a flora and fauna alike, and the sinners, whose appearances or species form often vary in terms of looks and shape. Though some gather they can reflect an aspect of a soul’s personality as well as how they had died in the living world and while Hellborn are free to move about in between the other circles of Hell, Sinners are confined to the pride ring, hence the often chaotic nature of places like Pentagram city, where sinners are often especially targeted during the infamous Extermination day. Some sinners and demons alike are also said to share the potential to become Overlords should they manage to amass enough soils for a power base though where this puts them in the social pecking order with the Sins or the Ars Goetia in terms of power is debatable. The rings of He,l are as follows.

Pride, the designated home for sinners, with Pentagram City as its capital and ground zero for the exorcists in extermination day. Overseen by the fallen angel lucifer and his daughter princess Charlemagne “Charlie” Morningstar, owner and operator of the Hazbin Hotel, her persomal passion project to house and redeem sinners. Current success record:1 redeemed soul.

Wrath, overseen by Satan, the redneck central hkme to many farms, a veritable desert wasteland of dust, volcanoes and the middle of goddamn nowheeee.

gluttony, overseen by queen Bee-lzebub,her home a regular hive, pun unintended, for her parties, popular among many a Hellhound and imp alike. A veritable hot spot for those looking to indulge in some good food and chug down Bee-lze-juice, however those with a self-destructive streak are politely but firmly sent away for fear and concern of drinking themselves to near death.

greed, overseen by Mammon, a chaotic cesspit of crime where the only thing cheap is life. As green and dirty as the money it carries. Among the many crime families and gangs which occupy and run this dive include the Knolastname family and yes loan sharks are literal around here.

lust, the pornographic hub overseen by Asmodeus, aka Ozzie, the central ground zero for Hell’s adult entertainment. Home to the infamous Skullfuck productions,a studio with a sizeabke fanbase among Hell and even the living world and Heaven, and many a succubus and incubus. A porn store and sex shop on every corner and block, love hotels a plenty to choose from and home to both Ozzie's personal night club and his factory which produces and distrivubtes many erotic products.

sloth and envy, overseen by leviathan and belphefor. Notable about sloth is that it’s hospitals are slow as fuck,given it takes five years for hellhounds to get their annually required Hellbies shots. you think healthcare on Earth is a nightmare?

Hell’s societal hierarchy stands as so from top to bottom: Fallen Angels (Lucifer chief among them), The other six of the 7 sins,the Ars Goetia who are the cream of the crop among Hell’s elite wealthy class, Overlords, Sinners, native demons such as sex demons like succubi and incubi, possessors and baphomets, and the bottom rung of the ladder, Hellhounds and Imps. Hellhounds of course stand just a little higher above the latter due to their value in suecirtynwork as bodyguards. It’s seen by some as taboo for anyone outside of their station or species to be seen in a sexual and or romantic relationship with an Imp but some say otherwise.

Then of course there are enigmas like Mr.Sketch, who seem to be similar to sinner and demon alike yet something different entirely given that unlike sinners they can move freely about the other circles. Some theories and rumours abound such individuals are souls in the afterlife who wind up in heaven or hell by chance on their way to occupying a phsyical life in Earth, with exposure to the energies of either realm having skme shape and influence in them overall thanks to their being basically blank skates that had nt experienced virtue and sin alike. Making them peculiar paradoxes akin to the theory of Schrodinger's Cat. They shouldn't be and yet they are, they think and feel and thus they exist. Mr.Sketch is of course just one of those particilar Enigmas that has come to call Hell home and made quite a living for himself and if osften seen in the company of what may be some of his fellow breed. That is when he isn't busy enjoying the company of female demons, especially succubi who no surprise make up a large chunk of the talent roster in SkullFuck productions.

Coming up next, a little spotlight into a few of the demon breeds and species that make up some of Hell's Hellborn natives. Stay tuned.