#Everything is for our salvation

[dramoor]

[deancasforcutie]

still chasing the high of that halcyon age where Supernatural was my healthy safe escape from the horrors of US politics, and then

[euyrdice]

kise’s resistance to sincerity and vulnerability and then when he is vulnerable how it makes him more more fearless, more confident, more steady. the vulnerability he shows in his choice to rely on and trust kaijou and want something for someone other than himself and how that brings out a strength in him more than a fragility. and then when it does highlight his fragility when he cries with his team how he’s met with kasamatsu telling him he made them proud and everyone putting their own grief aside to comfort him and even when he’s failed he’s not alone. something something the slow realization that vulnerability in the answer. something something what we become when we are loved and given external support and when we love and give others support. something something what kise becomes when he values and wants something beyond himself. something something kise and his sincerity as his strength and his softness if he would only lean into it a little more.

[hani-family]

A Final Plea from the Heart of Hell: Save Us Before Hope Dies 💔🔥

Hi, I'm Hani 🤗

I am Hani, a 26-year-old young man from Gaza. I no longer have anything but words, written by a trembling hand ✍️. The war didn’t just destroy our lives; it took everything from us. Our home, the refuge that once sheltered us, is now a pile of rubble 🏚️. My car, my only source of livelihood, was destroyed in a sudden strike 🚗, and the work that once sustained us is now a distant memory 💼.

Today, I live in an unending nightmare. Under a sun that burns everything in its path 🌞🔥, my family and I sit in a worn-out tent, a tent that neither shields us from the summer heat nor the winter cold ❄️. Insects 🦟 invade the place, diseases consume our bodies 🩺, and my younger siblings cry from hunger and thirst 🍞💧. We have no clean water, nor a crumb of bread to ease our hunger. Each passing day deepens the weight of this hell we live in.

My Little Brother is Dying of Fear 😨

My little brother, seven years old, is dying of fear. His eyes never stop crying 😢. Every morning, with a voice choked by tears, he asks me: "When will we go back to our home?" But I have no answer. Every look in his eyes 👁️, every tear that falls from them 💧, crushes my heart 💔. How can I explain to him that the hope which once was our lifeline has now turned into nothing but a mirage?

The Night Only Adds to Our Pain 🌙

The night doesn’t bring us rest, it only adds to our pain. We sleep on hard ground, feeling the in every bone of our bodies 🥶, with nothing but pieces of cardboard 📦 to cover us. My older sister cries in silence 🥺 as she watches the future fade before her eyes. My sick mother, in desperate need of medical care 🩺💊, suffers in complete silence. My father, who was once the pillar of our family 👨‍👧‍👦, is now confined by his own weakness, unable to move or work.

We Are Nearing the End ⚰️

Every day we live brings us one step closer to the end. Death surrounds us from every side: if not from hunger 🍽️, then from illness 🦠. And if not from illness, then from the despair that devours our souls.

Where is Humanity? Where is the World? 🌍💔

Where are the people of compassion? Are you waiting for us to vanish into the depths of this suffering? Are you waiting until death takes us before you act? We are drowning, and we don’t have enough strength to scream for help 🆘. Will you let this cry go unanswered? 😭

Your donation today is our last thread of hope. Thanks to a few people, I was able to buy a simple phone 📱 to reach out to you, but the bitter truth is that what I and my family need is much greater. We are not asking for much; just enough to save our lives from this hell 🔥. Every donation, no matter how small, could be the difference between life and death for us 👐.

Don’t Let Us Disappear in the Darkness of Suffering 🌑

Don’t let our story end here. Be the light that guides us to salvation 🕯️✨.

With every tear, with every pain, I write this final plea to you, 

Hani

My campaign vetted by @gazavetters link vetted

[dromaeotrash]

.

[ellecdc]

elle, my love. my darling. could I be the biggest pest and request maybe something with our beloved barty jr? like maybe you know of him but don’t really know him but someone is bugging you at a party and you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend and he plays the role just a little too well?

Ilysm darling 🖤

for you, sab? anything

Barty Crouch Junior x fem!reader who asks him to pretend to be her boyfriend

CW: harassment - a guy won't leave reader alone at a bar, drinking/bar culture, there is perhaps one sentence that is sort of explicit but the rest is PG and then fades to black

You had tried everything to shake this guy off of you; from polite no thank you’s, to hiding in the loo, to pretending not to notice when he was standing right beside you. You had even attempted the tried-and-true “I have a boyfriend”, to which he simply replied “I don’t see him anywhere”. 

You were soon going to resort to a well-timed uppercut, and though you did think the man deserved a good fist to the nose, you weren’t quite willing to resort to violence - yet. 

You were ducking behind raised arms and navigating around bodies in an attempt to rid yourself of your tormentor when salvation came in the form of an unlikely classmate.

“Junior!” You whisper shouted - a name you heard many of his friends refer to him as - as you slid in between him and the bar he was lazily sat at; if you could call what he was doing sitting. He was perched, possibly less than half of each arse cheek actually on the stool, with both of his legs splayed out in a way that would get anyone else punched in the teeth for daring to take up so much room at a bar, but he blended in like he was simply part of the decor. 

“Do I know you, sugar?” He drawled from the rim of his cup; green eyes scrutinizing you though he seemed no less pleased by your proximity due to his unfamiliarity with you. 

“I- sorry, we have statistics together?”

Barty simply swallowed his sip and continued staring at you.

“Mondays and Wednesdays? 1:30 to 3:00?” You clarified. 

He blinked slowly at that.

“With Professor Flitwick.”

“Yeah, yeah; third row from the back, prefers taking handwritten notes but insists on hauling your laptop ‘round with you too which acts as no more than a glorified paperweight. You have a fuzzy jumper that you wear almost everywhere.” 

“I- well…yeah?”

“Right, so how does that bring us here?” He continued as if you had been the one making this conversation particularly difficult. 

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” You blurted.

“Okay.” Barty agreed readily with a shrug as he placed his now empty cup on the bar. “Why?”

Stunned somewhat stupid by his willingness, you suddenly remembered that you had someone pursuing you. 

“There’s this bloke-”

“Which bloke?” He cut you off, sliding one of his legs between both of yours before pulling you towards him so you were just about straddling his thigh. 

In an attempt to hide your blush at Barty’s blaseness, and what you would later tell yourself was you simply trying to lean into the part of girlfriend, you nuzzled into Barty’s side to purvey the surrounding crowd. 

“That guy there, with the beanie.” You whispered into his ear as you gestured towards the guy; swallowing the surprised yelp that threatened to escape your lips when you felt Barty’s possessive protective arm tighten around your middle. 

“Well…” Barty murmured quietly, turning his chin back towards you; his lips hovering just over your collarbone. “That just won’t do, will it?”

You shook your head quickly, ignoring the racing of your heart, the way that the bass vibrated through your core, or the heat that was beginning to pool inside of you as he propped up his knee so that you were now officially straddling his thigh.

“Has he been bugging you, doll?” He asked lowly then, bringing his hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your waist to push a lock of hair away from your face. 

“He won’t leave me alone.” You whispered; finding yourself embarrassingly close to tears for the first time all night, simply because some random guy who showed up to perhaps half of your shared statistics classes (though he somehow still had perfect scores) was offering you his protection.

A sympathetic dent in between Barty’s eyebrows formed at your words as he pouted at you. “My poor girl.” He all but purred as he brought his face mere millimeters away from yours before bumping his nose to your own. “How do you want this to go?” He whispered.

“Whichever way it needs to so that he’ll leave me alone.”

Apparently not needing any further directions, Barty slotted your lips together with an intensity that had your head ringing as he pulled you higher up onto his lap; body’s so close you were almost certain you could feel his heartbeat in your own chest. 

His hand that was wrapped around your waist started to slide up the back of your shirt where he rubbed the skin of your lower back, as the other rested just under your jaw, his touch far softer and more delicate than the way in which he kissed you.

You leaned further into him, whimpering at the sensation of your core sliding tantalizingly against his denim pants; the thin satiny material of your panties no match for the electricity of feeling so wholly consumed by Barty Crouch Junior.

You’d almost forgotten this was all a ruse when Barty abruptly pulled away from you.

“Oi! You got a fuckin’ problem?” He shouted at your stalker, garnering the attention of a few bar patrons around you.

You sunk impossibly further into Barty’s side at the attention, and relished in the gentle strokes he brushed at the skin of your hip in response. 

“Is there a problem?” One of the bartenders barked then; looking a certain brand of intense you supposed was likely part of the training to be a bartender at a club in a college town. 

“This tosser’s been bothering my girl all night.” Barty responded simply, weaseling his other arm around your middle as he returned his attention back to you. “You okay, sugar?” 

You nodded at him and rested your forehead against his as you let out a steadying breath. “Thank you.”

Barty snorted at that. “‘Course, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t look out for my girl, hm?” 

You chuckled breathlessly before smiling softly at him, noticing that he was doing the same as his emerald gaze darted between your eyes.

“Wanna get out of here?” He whispered as he dared to inch his hand further up your back.

God, did you ever.

[dramoor]

[alshamswelnahr]

I never really got the whole "comfort character" thing until mitsuri kanroji. when shinobu said, "If we licked our wounds with hate and sadness, all of us would not be able to move forward. kanroji-san, your cheerful personality and smile often bring us salvation," and when obanai said "your bottomless cheerfulness and kindness... has saved many people, so you should be proud," they were spot on. mitsuri just has this lightness about her that’s so refreshing. everything about her, from her gorgeous hair and smile to her stunning clothes, radiates happiness. Her story of choosing to be true to herself and helping others is so heartwarming. plus, her love for food, family, and cats is really endearing. ufotable totally nailed it with her VA too. all of that together just makes her vibe so healing, like a perfect spring day. loving her is the easiest thing and she’s incredibly dear to my heart

[l4mplight]

Miquella and Trina; A Tragedy

Hey Tumblr. I have a lot of thoughts about Shadow of the Erdtree, and these ones... let's just say I don't think they'd do well on Reddit. It's not often that I feel particularly impacted by a particular fictional character. Usually I connect more with narrative arcs and themes, which is why I think I'm so drawn to the ephemeral, vibes based storytelling of Fromsoft's games. Playing through SOTE, though, I found Miquella (and St Trina) to be extremely emotionally compelling and relatable, and I wasn't sure exactly why. I think I've put my finger on it now though. First of all, know that I am writing from the perspective that Miquella is a sympathetic character. I know that it's not uncommon to read him as a manipulative Machiavellian villain, but I think that's both a misreading of the text as well as just plain boring. Like, he's not a Griffith clone you guys, give From some credit. Anyway, here we go.

"You have no understanding. Of Miquella the Kind. Of St. Trina's Love.

Content Warning: I'll be discussing themes of depression, and the implication of suicidal ideation.

So, a classic Fromsoftware theme is despair, and the ways we cope with a world full of it. It shows up twice in Shadow of the Erdtree; with Midra and the Frenzied Flame, where despair leads to a selfish nihilism that asks us to burn everything down, and with Thiollier and St Trina, who offer sleep as a comfort to the weary. Running a small errand for Thiollier has him say the following.

"If you find yourself… weary of the weight of this life, then just give me the word. Sleep is a balm, and eternal sleep… is an elixir."

Drinking the elixir he offers will, of course, result in an instant death. This is our first encounter with the idea of "Eternal Sleep," a more potent form of the sleep status effect that only appears here in the Shadowlands, after St Trina has been abandoned. The Velvet Sword of St. Trina tells us as much: "Silver sword of St. Trina, now stained the color of velvet. Inflicts eternal sleep. When St. Trina was abandoned, the faint, light-purple mists coalesced into an intoxicating deep-purple cloud." In order to ascend to godhood, Miquella abandons first his physical body, and then the more abstract aspects of himself. As we begin to descend down the fissure where we'll find Trina, a cross marks the spot as the place where Miquella abandoned his love. This connects Trina, "the discarded half" as Thiollier puts it, with Miquella's love. Leda confirms this in her own dialogue:

"St. Trina's love for Kind Miquella is boundless. She is, after all, his other half. Or perhaps her feelings go beyond even that. Even if she was left behind, I doubt her heart would waver."

Keep that in mind, it'll be relevant later.

Near the cross, a spirit offers up some of the most heartbreaking dialogue I've come across so far. The spirit gives us a bigger picture of Miquella's goals:

"Kindly Miquella... I see you've thrown away... something you should not have. Under any circumstances. How will you salvation offer... to those who cannot be saved? When you could not even save your other self?"

I teared up at this. The emotional impacted was aided by the fact that I ran into the spirit right after telling Moore to put his past behind him, leading him to rededicate himself to Miquella. He says:

"Hm. Maybe that’s Kindly Miquella’s love. Love for all the unloved. Love, to banish the pain."

Note here that Moore suggest Miquella's love will "banish the pain." This is also essentially what Trina's sleep does. It's a comfort to those in need. Anyway, between these two instances, we end up with a pretty good picture of the sort of god Miquella wants to become. He was already sympathetic to the outcasts of The Lands Between in the basegame, where he built Elphael and the Haligtree as a haven for those rejected by the Golden Order, such as the Albinaurics and Misbegotten we find there. In the Shadowlands, he has gone a step further. Hornsent tells us that he has committed himself, in essence, to righting Marika's wrongs.

"Miquella has said as much himself – he wishes now to throw it all away. He says the act – though undoubtedly painful – will sear clean the Erdtree’s wanton sin. The truth of his claim can be found at each cross. 'Tis evidence enough to earn my belief."

Of all of Marika's children, Miquella is the only one to see the serious flaws in her empire. Ymir points this out to us as well.

"No matter our efforts, if the roots are rotten, then we have little recourse. Ever-Young Miquella saw things for what they were. He knew his bloodline was tainted, his roots mired in madness. A tragedy if there ever was one. That he would feel compelled to renounce everything when the blame lay squarely with the mother."

My thinking here is aligned with Mother Ymir. You really have to feel for Miquella; he has essentially taken on, alone, the responsibility of making up for centuries of Golden Order imperialism. That's a massive burden to bear, especially for Miquella, cursed with eternal childhood.

(It's easy to miss, but Miquella actually ages up significantly when we see him in god-form. Until he steps back through the Divine Gate, he would have looked and sounded like he does in the introductory art and in ending memory scene. Compare those with how he appears in the boss fight, and it's clear godhood at least helped him reach puberty lol) So we've established that Miquella is the child of Imperial Rome on Steroids, is cursed with eternal childhood, and is an empathetic prodigy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Surely his mental state is perfectly healthy, right? Right??

Final warning, this is where things get quite sad. Here is where I will try to tie Miquella's arc together with Thiollier and St Trina, and the comforting oblivion and relief from despair that sleep represents for them.

As we search for St Trina, we descend down into the Stone Coffin Fissure. This is a place of death, with massive coffins built into the fissure walls, and Gravebirds, Bloodfiends and Putrescent enemies everywhere. St Trina is found at the deepest possible pit of this fissure, in a swamp of putrescence that has since blossomed into a garden of deep velvet lilies because of her influence. Trina offers us nectar of "eternal sleep," as Thiollier did previously, and as established then, "eternal sleep" is essentially nothing more than a peaceful death. Trina seems to fit in quite well in this place of ancient dead things, with some of the ancient remains even being compelled to fight for her in exchange for eternal rest, becoming the Putrescent Knight.

(Side note for levity because we're about to get sad again; I love this guy. It's a knight made out of the skeleton of a horse, riding on that same horse's decaying flesh goop body. Like, ugh. Beautiful. Plus, it may even have taken that shape because of Trina sharing Miquella's memories of Radahn, who was never far from his horse Leonard...)

We meet St Trina in her garden, and when we imbibe her nectar, we eventually begin to hear her voice in our death-dreams. She seems to pity him. Mourn for him, almost.

"Make Miquella stop... Don't turn the poor thing into a god..."

Trina appears to be in a bad state after her fall. She can only manage to get a few words across to us at once. Just as Leda predicted, her heart hasn't wavered. She is only concerned with Miquella's well-being.

"Godhood would be Miquella's prison. A caged divinity... is beyond saving."

Trina's most pressing concern is that godhood will be a prison for Miquella. Now, this could in theory be because gods are subject to manipulation from the Fingers and the Greater Will or a similar reason, but given that she calls him a "poor thing," I think there is likely a more emotional reason behind Trina's plea. I think that Trina is speaking as the embodiment of Miquella's love, but especially his ability to love and care for himself...

"You must kill Miquella... Grant him forgiveness."

...and she asks us to kill him.

In excising Trina from his being, I think Miquella also expelled the part of himself that was able to recognize how miserable divinity would be for him, and how miserable he was. The part of him that was tired of carrying the responsibilities that his compassion demanded of him. The part of him that was exhausted, despairing and desperate from having failed to cure Malenia, failed to save Godwyn, failed to perfect the Haligtree. St Trina is the part of Miquella that wanted to be stopped, to rest, to sleep, to die. In abandoning her as he does, Miquella is essentially repressing those thoughts and feelings, replacing them with more "selfless" ones; self-sacrifice, suffering on behalf of others, his martyrdom and apotheosis. I don't want to forget about "grant him forgiveness" either. She might mean forgiveness for failing to become a god, for not being good enough to succeed Marika and right her wrings. Maybe forgiveness for failing Malenia and Godwyn, or for leaving the Haligtree behind. Maybe even for abandoning her. But on the road to godhood, Miquella can't afford to indulge in this sort of self-pity. A child craves forgiveness and approval, a god must cast these things out.

"I'm feeling rather lost. Haunted by memories. Of St. Trina. Her visage. Her scent. The lure of velvety sleep. Would Kindly Miquella chasten me? For falling for St. Trina, while knowing that she was the discarded half? The problem is… I simply cannot help it. I would sacrifice everything, just to gaze upon her, one last time."

I want to mention Thiollier one more time here too. His primary visual motif is the long white braids that he wears on his clothes, reminiscent of Miquella and Trina's own signature braids (remember, she looked like an older feminine Miquella before her fall and injury). Thiollier is obsessed with Trina, pursuing her to hear her voice and fade into the comfort of her velvet sleep, though this doesn't kill him like it does us. I don't think Thiollier is connected to Miquella in any textual way, but I think he does serve as a reflection of the sorts of thoughts Miquella may have been surpressing. The self-pity, the need for approval and love, the feelings of weakness and uselessness. These are the things that lead Thiollier to pursue endless slumber.

Thiollier doesn't give in to that despair, however. Though he initially takes St. Trina's words... poorly, he eventually realizes what must be done, and dedicates himself to his new purpose: carrying out her final wish.

"I am here to serve St. Trina evermore. I am deeply sorry. For doubting you. I am here only to grant St. Trina's singular wish. I will stop Miquella the kind. He will never become a god."

This post is already quite long, but I also want to mention the obvious gender stuff going on here. There are a number of moments that make it seem as though St. Trina might actually be more than just "half" of Miquella. Firstly, as she is shown falling in the story trailer, Leda is describing how Miquella abandoned his fate, as if Trina had a vital role to play in Miquella's future. It also seems as though Trina isn't cursed in the same way that Miquella is; her voice and size indicate that she is at least more substantial than his "infant form," and she is depicted in "adult form, somewhat unnervingly" on the Torch of St. Trina. Furthermore, her "adult form" has a third eye in the middle of her forehead. The third eye is a symbol of enlightenment in both Hinduism and Buddhism; it seems that Trina has achieved some level of wholeness in this depiction. Meanwhile, when Miquella achieves godhood, his eyes remain permanently shut. He also appears to have only one physical arm. He holds Radahn with two incorporeal arms while casting with his real right arm, but his left arm appears to fade away to nothing before the elbow, as if unfinished. Miquella's blindness and asymmetry here, I think, reflect how unbalanced and incomplete his divinity is without Trina.

One more hint towards St Trina being a part of Miquella's future lies way back at the Haligtree. In Malenia's bossroom, just above where Miquella's cocoon was once embedded into the tree, the branches and roots appear to form a silhouette. This could be Miquella, Trina, or both, but I do see a certain resemblance to Trina's depiction on the torch in the way the "hair" covers the eyes. Given that Miquella's body appears to have grown a decent amount inside of the cocoon when we see in at Mohg's palace, it's possible that the cocoon situation was his original attempt to cure himself of his own curse, or perhaps become a part of the Haligtree itself. In the Shaman Village, Marika's home, there is a similar scene. A woman's body that resembles Marika seemingly mummified within the hollow of a tree. I honestly have no idea what to make of that just yet, but I thought it worth a mention.

So, with all that in mind, abandoning Trina seems to be even more significant. Not only has Miquella divested himself of his love and his fate, but maybe even his future, too. Being eternally nascent, he is always in a state of potential, after all. Am I suggesting that Miquella is a transfeminine character? That he was meant to grow up to become a goddess in the aspect of St. Trina, or maybe even more like Marika than he already is? Well, maybe. If you find it compelling, then absolutely. Fromsoftware's storytelling is always ambiguous, and is always design to leave us some room to read and interpret, to really play in the space we are given. Personally, I do find it compelling in a horribly tragic sort of way, fitting for the setting. It's also entirely possible that I have rather self-indulgently projected some of my own angst onto these character. I likely have, to be perfectly honest. It's rare that I really connect with a set of characters or a story like I have with this lot, and I hope that maybe some of you reading this will feel similarly. If you have read this far, thanks <3

[ohnoitstbskyen]

... y'all know Lae'zel is acting scared, right?

Video transcription: I've seen a lot of comments on my short about Lae'zel dismissing her entire character because she's mean and… I'm just checking in here… you guys know she's scared, right? She's terrified. She was kidnapped by the worst monster she knows, infected with the most horrifying death anyone in her culture can have, and then stranded on a hostile world, alone, with nothing to guide her except the dogmatic military cult indoctrination of a cruel lich demigod, telling her that her only hope of salvation is to follow Gith doctrine with total unyielding faith. And still she tries to save you. When she keeps insisting that you must get to the Githyanki crèche, it's our only hope, she's trying to guide you towards the only salvation she knows from the parasite, so she can share it with you. And Gith... aren't supposed to do that, saving an outsider is not part of the doctrine, she's breaking the rules trying to do right by you. None of that means she's not being an asshole, she's rude, dogmatic and unpleasant. But everything she does comes from a genuine, very misguided and abrasive, desire to do the right thing. It doesn't make her behaviour okay, but there is more to her character than just "being the mean one."

To expand on this a bit more than I can in a 60 second short, people acting from fear and from their damage is a major theme among the Baldur's Gate 3 companions.

Lae'zel is terrified and falling back on the only thing she believes will give her back some control over her situation, which is the dogma of the military cult she's in. Shadowheart is much the same, amnesiac and grasping on to the only solid thing she knows, which is her faith, which preaches deception, loss and duplicity as the only certain factors in life.

Gale is an inveterate people-pleaser desperately dependent on other people to help him feed his magic addiction, with his overtly affable exterior hiding a rolling boulder of guilt, ambition, greed, arrogance and legitimate hurt. Asterion is... well, no way to really lay out his deal without spoiling, but the boy has been through it and his self-destructive, hedonistic and selfish impulses are all coping mechanism and self-defense all the time.

None of that make their shitty behaviours okay, but in a fictional story, those kinds of flaws and toxic behaviours are what make for interesting stories and characters. I don't blame anyone for finding Lae'zel unpleasant and abrasive, but I do get a bit Old Man Yells At Cloud about people who casually brag about shoving her off a cliff-side, or murdering her because "she was a bitch" or whatever.

Like... being unable to face discomfort in your media is not a virtue, and lashing out reactively against fiction that doesn't validate your power fantasy isn't a flex.

Of course, I saw a lot of those reactions in YouTube comments and on social media, so my sample is biased by those algorithms, but still. A lot of people seem aggressively proud that they never engaged with her story because the terrified indoctrinated child-soldier wasn't immediately nice to them and I can't explain it but something about that reaction feels puritan to me.

[cyn-write]

"I Feel Her, I See Her"

Summary: Rollo has been eyeing you since your arrival, seeing you as the diamond amongst coals. At the Ball, he corners you into a dance, but your BF is not going to let this slide...

Pairings: Riddle, Deuce, Ruggie, and Jamil x F!Reader (Separately)

For Idia, Azul, and Malleus, check out Part 1!

For Rollo, Check out "Heaven's Light"!

Warnings: Possessive behavior, suggestive, manipulation and obsession (Rollo), established relationships, Secretive relationship implied on Riddle's part, swearing in Deuce's part, Jamil refers to readers Rohi (Arabic for "my soulmate"), romantic ~

Note: Thank you to everyone who enjoyed section 1 ("She Blazes Me")! The idea for this came while playing Glorious Masquerade, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I have writing it!

Prologue

"Who might you be miss?"

Y/n gave a kind smile and nodded her head in greeting "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," she stayed next to Trein as she was there as his assistant.

"Yuu is our magicless perfect of Ramshackle. She will be working as my assistant throughout the trip," Trein added.

She felt Rollo's eyes scan her and, unlike his greetings to the rest, he held out a hand. Being poilet, she offered her hand as well, and he lifted it to his lips, grazing her knuckles quickly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I understand it must be difficult, being surrounded by mages every second of the day. I hope you get a chance to relax this trip."

Y/n blushed at the motion and bit her lower lip. All the while, she could feel her boyfriend glaring daggers into her and Rollo.

"I-I'll do my best..." Y/n replied.

Throughout the entire trip, Rollo seemed to gravitate towards y/n and used every excuse to isolate her from the group. They chatted about her difficulties at NRC and of the festival. Due to her being Trein's assistant and the constant reminders to behave, she and her boyfriend had little time together.

This all accumulated at the Masquerade. Rollo had given Y/n a proper dress for the occasion instead of the attire his counsel had chosen. The (color) fabric decadently adorned your figure and stunned the NRC boys with its beauty. But before her boyfriend could ask for a dance, Rollo stole y/n away. He whisked her to the dance floor, and they started chatting.

At this point, Y/N's boyfriend has had enough of the student counsel president, but what sent him over the edge is when he takes you to the balcony and dare suggest the worst:

"Y/n, stay here with me." Y/n turned quickly on her heels to Rollo in confusion, "The fools at NRC do not deserve your purity. You belong here. with me." He has her pinned against the balcony, "This is your sanctuary."

Y/n pushed Rollo away slightly and spoke up, "Thank you for the offer, but I have not intention of leaving NRC. It is difficult at times but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now if you excuse me, I want to go back to the ball."

Rollo grabbed y/n's wrist and pulled her against him. "It's because of him, isn't it? He has bewitched you!" He pinned her between the balcony wall and him. "Those fiends have enchanted you, but I will free you from those chains and show you salvation! No matter the cost!"

Riddle Roseheart

Riddle had been watching the scene through a crack in the door. He felt his blood run cold at the mention of her leaving NRC. He knew it was a possibility, and for a second he thought she would be better off at NB. Then Rollo dared lay a hand on his rose.

His blood went from frigid to boiling.

Riddle slammed the doors open, causing them to clang against the walls. Rollo spun on his heels to see who dared to disturb him and the perfect.

"Roseheart. What are you doing-"

"Don't play daft with me. I saw everything." Riddle went straight to y/n and, with all his strength, physically removed Rollo's hand from her wrist, placing himself between Rollo and his rose. "You call yourself a gentleman, taking advantage of a lady and forcing yourself upon her! You have failed as a Host, as a Gentleman. And you dare threaten MY Rose." Riddle raised his pen in preparation to cast his signature spell, "I will have your head for this-"

He felt the hands of his rose on his back, a reminder to bring him back to reality. Riddle lowered his pen and took a deep breath. He was not the man he once was. He could control his temper.

"Y/n, let's go." He took her hand and guided her away from the cursed balcony. He never let y/n out of his sight for a single second. He ignored the mutters of the Student Counsel President and put all his focus on her.

He led her into a hidden part of the ballroom. Once safely away from the prying eyes of the crowd, he delicately checked her for bruising. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you anywhere?"

He gently caressed her face as she silently shook her head. He pulled her into a gentle embrace and whispered, "It's okay, I got you... he can't hurt you."

He felt y/n tighten the hug and he reciprocated. "Thank you for stepping in... I was so scared."

"I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner. I should have been more assertive or-r told him off. I-I could have-"

"Riddle." Y/n leaned back and placed her hands on either side of his face, "There isn't anything else you could have done. Rollo is the one at fault, not you."

"But if I held you, or was more showing with our relationship, maybe he would have been fended off from pursuing you-"

"Riddle, I know you're not a fan of PDA. You are a little more reserved when it comes to PDA, but you show your love in other ways." Y/n caressed Riddle's cheek as she spoke, "You're chivalrous and I love that about you."

Riddle blushed as his rose complimented him, "Thank you rose, but I think... I think I am ready to be more forward, I want everyone to know that you are mine and I am yours." He leaned in and gave her a passionate kiss. He moved his hand to the back of her head and held her close to him.

After a minute, they parted and he could tell the pleasant surprise on the perfect's face. The music swelled and he heard faint voices call his and y/n's name.

"We are being summoned," Riddle peaked out of their hiding spot and gave himself a moment to compose himself. He turned to his rose and fixed his coat, "I am a man of his word," Riddle held out his gloved hand and took the stance of the knights of old, "Shall we dance, my rose?"

Deuce Spade

"What do ya think you're doin'." Deuce's voice was cold. A tone he hasn't used since his delinquent days.

Rollo turned and saw Duece holding out his magic pen to the third year as if it were a rapier pointed at his chest. His eyes were no longer that sparkling blue, but frigid cold as he glared daggers into this predator.

Y/n's look of pure fear fueled Duece's rage, as he held himself together by the seams.

"We are simply having a conversation," Rollo still had a grip on y/n's wrist and brushed off the boy, "Now if you excuse us, we have more things to-"

"No." Deuce said simply and approached carefully. Deuce may not be the brightest, but he knew when his girlfriend was uncomfortable, and this man made her very uncomfortable. "Y/n, let's go."

Y/n tried to move towards Deuce, but Rollo yanked her back. "Are you really going to let him order you around?"

"Please let-" "LET HER GO YOU BASTARD!" Deuce interrupted. His pen aided his fist as he punched Rollo right in the jaw. The Student Council President wretched back and released his grip on the perfect. She darted for Duece's arms. He enveloped her in his arms. Before he could even ask her if she was okay, he saw Rollo regain his composure so he moved her behind him.

He faced Rollo who was enraged. That filth punched him. The Host. "How dare you. Your professor will hear of this-"

"You won't say a word." All three turned to see Riddle. He saw everything. "If you don't want to be reported for harassment of the only female student from NRC, then you will say nothing."

Rollo's impenetrable expression had a hint of fear in it. Riddle approached the preditor, passing the couple. He briefly paused next to Deuce and said in a low tone, "Get her out. I'll take care of this."

Deuce was still filled with rage at Rollo, but he saw how shaken his dearest was. He nodded to his housewarden with a whisper of thanks, then whisked y/n away from the scene.

As they walked out of the balcony, he kept his arm around y/n's shoulder. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as his rage turned to worry for his dear perfect. He blamed himself for what happened. If he had paid more attention to you and how Rollo interacted with her, he may have subverted this. Once they were in the hall between the balcony and the ballroom, he pulled her aside to a hidden bench. The two sat and Deuce just held y/n close as the situation washed over the both of them.

Deuce felt his eyes water as he quietly said "I'm sorry." He patted her hair and pulled her into his chest "I'm so sorry I wasn't there, If I was then I could have stopped him or protected you or-"

Y/n cut off his ramblings with a kiss. A light yet purposeful kiss that he melted into. He cupped her face and leaned into it. When she parted from his lips, she placed her hands on either side of his face.

"Deuce, you saved me. I-I am not sure what would have happened if... if you hadn't come by I am not sure what would've happened." Her eyes started to well again, "You were my knight... you are my knight in shining armor. So stop beating yourself up. Rollo is at fault, not you."

He placed a hand on top of hers. "He was right about one thing though," he leaned his head into her hand and lightly kissed it. "I don't deserve you. You do so much and get no recognition, and I have been part of that."

Deuce sits up straighter and takes both of the perfect's hands in his. He moves off the bench to kneel in front of her, mirroring the knights of old kneeling before their love. "I know I can be dense at times and my old self may creep out, but I promise you, I will work ten times harder to become a knight worthy of standing beside you. You bring out the best in me and I want you to know how much you mean to me." Following his gut he took a deep breath, "I will start right now."

With the moon illuminating him, he stood, removed his hat to place it above his heart, and held out a hand, "y/n, may I have this dance?"

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie never trusted Rollo. From the moment he smelled the man he knew he couldn't be trusted. What was worse was that Rollo seemed to glue himself to her and that made Ruggie's skin crawl, but due to Trein and Grim dragging you from place to place he couldn't keep you by his side. Now you were missing. Rollo stole y/n away from the ball and he couldn't find her anywhere. He would have never found her if it weren't for her signature scent cutting through the plethora of perfumes.

He followed her scent to the balcony just outside the ballroom and saw his worst nightmare. Rollo had you pinned to the balcony and was leaning way to close for comfort. He heard Rollo's shpeal and felt his fur stand on its ends. He knew his girl would tell off the bastard, but when he wouldn't listen, Ruggie stepped in.

"The lady said she wanted to dance," Ruggie stepped out from behind the door and walked over to y/n, "I thought you righteous types would be more gentlemanly." Ruggie slipped his hand around y/n's arm and pulled her towards him.

"Bucchi." Rollo gripped his neckerchief and raised it to his mouth to cover his scowl. "Y/n and I were just having a conversation."

"Really? What were ya talking about?" Ruggie played dumb as he snaked his arm around his beloved's waist, holding her close.

Rollo glared at Ruggie, but this only made his smile grow and move behind y/n to hug her from behind, nestling his head into the crook of her neck. He could feel her heartbeat racing as she leaned into his hug, placing her arms above his on her waist.

"Nothing of your concern..." Rollo's face screwed at the sight.

"Really, 'cause you were getting real close to her, and she looked real uncomfortable," Ruggie said and his grin morphed into a frown, "And I don't like it when people talk to my girlfriend like that."

He seemed to halt his breath for a moment, and then Rollo glared at Ruggie in disdain. "I was merely offering her an opportunity to be actually appreciated by her community, rather than taken advantage of."

"Well. Offer declined." Ruggie said coldly then held his girlfriend's hand and looked at her with warmth, "Why don't we go have that dance, princess? I think Prechy needs a moment to process things."

Y/n looked at Ruggie with small relief, "Yes, please." She then whispered a silent thank you.

Y/n looked at Ruggie with her e/c eyes that sparkled like gems. He couldn't help himself as he kissed her softly before he led her away from the gawking Rollo.

As they re-entered the ballroom, Ruggie never let go of y/n's hand. He felt his animal instincts still singing in his gut as his desire to protect his lover and make sure everyone knew she was taken still driver his emotion. He held y/n incredibly close as they danced. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her.

"Sorry for speaking for you. I didn't mean to, I just got all riled up and-"

Y/n pressed another kiss to his lips. One that was a lot more passionate than the one he gave her before. When she broke the kiss, it was Ruggie who was left breathless.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," She said, "I should be the one thanking you. You swooped in like a knight and rescued me from Rollo. I honestly have no idea what would have happened if you didn't come when you did..." He could see her mind wander to the worst, so he, being her knight in shining armor, spun her around and dipped her to the music. His sudden movements caused her smile to find its place again on her face.

Bringing her back up, he held her tight as he said, "I will always be there for you. It's a knight's job to protect his princess after all." This caused y/n to blush furiously and his heart to race. She looked ethereal in the candlelight of the ballroom.

Hearing the music change tones, he danced over to the side and whispered, "Ya know, it is a knight's job to take care of his princess, so how about I go show you my devotion? shishishishi~"

Jamil Viper

Life had taken much away from him, but he was not going to let this creep take his girlfriend.

"It's fascinating to see what brings out the true intentions of people." Jamil broke the villain's soliloquy with his cold voice.

He could see the relief on y/n's face as he appeared from behind the door. He had been listening in this entire time. He never let his Rohi out of his sight from the moment she entered the ballroom in that magnificent f/c dress to when Rollo stole her away.

"Viper, what are you doing out here?" Rollo asked, standing in front of y/n as if to hide her from him.

"Looking for y/n, I promised her a dance. But it seems I came here just in time," Jamil approached the two and held out his hand to y/n. Getting the signal, y/n started towards Jamil but was stopped by Rollo's arm, outstretched to halt her.

"Y/n and I are still discussing a delicate matter. We will return to the ballroom in a moment." Rollo started to turn towards y/n when Jamil placed a firm hand on Rollo's arm.

"She has made it clear she is done talking to you. I suggest you leave her be before I make you." Jamil looked to Y/n and made way for her to escape Rollo's grip as he turned his attention to Jamil.

Y/n quickly scurried to Jamil's side and he stepped in front of her as Rollo glared at the two of them. Jamil laid his hand on his magic pen as Rollo assessed him.

Seeing the situation and wanting to save face, Rollo looked to y/n and said, "I hope you consider my offer. We will discuss this later."

Rollo took his leave, regaining his composure before returning to the ball, leaving Jamil and y/n on the beautiful balcony overlooking the city.

With Rollo gone, Jamil turned his attention to his Rohi. His expression turned from threatening to worrying as he embraced his dearest, feeling her trembling from the endeavor she just experienced.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered into her ear. He caressed her hair and did his best to comfort her.

"I was so scared, Jamil. He wouldn't let me go... he-he-" She couldn't get the words out and Jamil just held her for a long time. He let her cry into his shoulder as he whispered reassurance to her.

"It's okay Rohi, I'm here. No one will hurt you." he said, "I won't let anyone hurt you, never again."

After a while he pulled back and whipped away her tears with his gloved hands. He kissed her forehead and then leaned his own against hers. "Rohi, if anyone makes you feel like this again, please tell me and I will protect you." He cups her cheeks and caresses them with his thumb, "I will always protect you, no matter what. I love you y/n."

He kissed her with all the love he had. The music swelled and he heard some of the others calling their names.

Y/n must have heard this too as she turned her head towards the door. "We don't have to go back in if you don't want to," Jamil said softly.

Y/n shook her head and took a deep breath, "I think we should attempt to salvage the evening, it's not every day we get to attend a ball without you worrying about Kalim."

Jamil smiled softly and kissed his beloved's forehead, "As you wish."

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

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing an NSFW part 2 or want to see more characters in this scenario, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

Also if you get the "Princess Bride" Reference let me know :)

[labutansa]

shared by sudan.updates

From the link:

“While pregnant, I faced daily struggles and constant fear, as our area was blocked off and the situation deteriorated rapidly. Despite the dire conditions, I managed to survive until the ninth month of pregnancy. I had to escape to a nearby area to find medical care, as no healthcare facilities were operational in my own area. I was fortunate to receive emergency care and give birth to a beautiful baby girl.”

“In the chaos of the war, I have lost everything I once held dear. My savings, which represented years of hard work and dreams for the future, have been wiped out. My job, which provided not only for my family but also gave me a sense of purpose and stability, is no longer a reality. The war has tor apart the life I had built, leaving me without a means to support myself or my loved ones.”

€1,222 raised of €10,000

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Two -- Where Is She

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: really super mild versions of cannon violence.

Word count: 2,072

Previous Part: Make You Wish Chapter One -- Seven Years

Master list link:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I accidentally posted this before I was ready tooo ahhhh!!! it's fine. Everything was already written I just had to format it properly and stuff.

Alastor had been at the Hazbin Hotel for only a few days and was already enjoying his time there greatly. It was an entertaining place, to say the least, and now that he had his feet under him, he was intent on making it even more so.

Charlie was pacing around the sitting room, stressed beyond belief. She had gone to speak to Adam the previous day to try and get his support for her plan, only to wind up with the news that the next extermination was coming in six moths, rather than the usual twelve. Alastor watched her duress in amusement as he sauntered into the hotel lobby, side stepping Angel, Charlie, and Vaggie to take a seat at the bar.

"It's nothing we can't handle," Charlie was explaining, trying to convince herself as much as anyone else in the room, "just angels cutting our timetable in half. But who needs a whole year to save souls? Am I right? And next time, when they cut the time in half again and again, we'll just handle it, right?!"

Vaggie got to her feet, grabbing her girlfriend by the shoulders and stopping her from her relentless pacing.

"Yes, we will." she confirmed.

"Oh please," Angel cut in from the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone, "ya had less than half a chance when you started all this salvation bullshit. And now...? Ain' no silver lining this time, toots."

"Sure there is." Charlie turned to him, "We just have to look a little harder for it."

"Well, while you're lookin', the rest of Hell is going nuts."

Angel turned his phone to Charlie, showing all the news headlines of terror he'd pulled up.

"People are already freaking out about the news. Look at what's happening in the Doomsday District."

He scrolled down to a video of a burning town just as a text notification popped up.

"Uh, what is a 'donkey show'?" Charlie asked in confusion, having read the text.

"Ah, heh, nothing." Angel pulled the phone from her line of sigh, trying to come up with a quick lie, "My boss, Val, is just freaked out about the news too. Like I said, everyone's losing their shit."

"Yeah, that is true." Vaggie hummed thoughtfully, a hand to her chin, "Sinners are desperate. Maybe desperate enough to try anything to escape extermination?"

"Speaking of sinners," Alastor said, drawing the attention in the room to him as he turned towards Husk who was busying cleaning glasses, "I think it's time I look up my old partner in crime."

"And what do I have to do with that?" the cat demon gruffly replied, not sparing Alastor a glance.

"Your partner in crime?" Charlie asked, taking a step towards the bar, "I always thought you... you know, worked alone?"

Alastor's grin widened.

"Oh never you mind, dear." he replied, throwing her a glance over his shoulder, "Just a lost soul I'm acquainted with is all."

"Yeah. You've been trying to get her to sell you that soul for what, the past seventy years is it now?" Husk scoffed.

Alastor's eye twitched slightly at the implication of his failure.

"If I wanted it, I would have it." he hummed threateningly, and Husk backed down.

"That's great!" Charlie exclaimed, "So she's a friend of yours? Do you think she'd help with the hotel? Oh! Or maybe that she'd want to be a guest?!"

"Charlie-" Vaggie began but Alastor quickly cut her off.

"I don't see a harm in asking." he cheerily replied.

"And you know her, Husk?" Charlie asked.

He looked up as he placed a clean glass on the shelf, shooting Alastor a glance before nodding.

"Do you think she'd be a good fit?"

He sighed, crossing his arms as Husk turned to face Charlie fully.

"She's a sweetheart, I think you'd get along well." he admitted, "But she's trouble, just like him."

Husk gestured towards Alastor and Charlie's smile widened.

"Well, with all Alastor has done for us so far, I think we could probably use more trouble like him."

"Oh you flatter me." Alastor waved her off, looking away in a false show of humility.

"No really." Charlie insisted, "You-"

"Show yourself, Alastor!" a dramatic call cut Charlie off mid thought.

----

"Um. Alastor?" Charlie hesitantly began, peeking out from behind his shoulder as she watched the havoc he was wreaking on the snake shaped sinner, "I think he's had enough."

Alastor cackled joyfully, not even watching as his shadows destroyed the air ship.

"Nah, he's got a few more hits in 'im." Angle disagreed, enjoying the show immensly.

The shadows tilted the ship forward, dropping Sir Pentious out through the broken windshield. He hit the ground with a thud, right before Alastor's feet. Stopping in his fit of laughter, he looked down at the man, spinning his microphone like a baton.

"Thanks for another forgettable experience." he teased as one of the egg creatures fell from the ship, splattering on the ground beside Charlie who took a step away.

"Thank... you..." Sir Pentious began, his voice pained as he raised his head slowly, "for letting your guard down!"

Almost before Alastor could register what was happening, the snake had grabbed onto his coat with his tail and torn a piece from its hem. Alastor took a menacing step forward, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh shit." Pentious' triumphant laughter died out.

Slowly, Alastor sprouted a pair of shadowy horns. With a snap of his finger, the ground under the snake detonated, throwing him up into the air and far away from the hotel with a scream. He watched as Pentious flew away, retracting his horns and standing with a hand behind his back. Once the snake was out of sight, he at last turned to Charlie and Angel, as well as Husk and Vaggie who had come out to join them.

"Well, it looks as thought I need a visit to the tailor." he hummed, "Husk?"

"Yeah?" Husk grunted.

"Where did you say she was again?"

"I didn't."

Husk crossed his arms defensively and Alastor took a step towards him, his smile a little smaller than normal. There was an odd air between the two of them, a tension every one present could feel biting into their skins.

"Whats that?" Alastor asked lowly, his head cocked slightly to the side.

Husk sighed.

"Last I heard she was working for some imp in Pentagram City." Husk reluctantly admitted, looking away, "As an assassin or something, I don't know the details."

"An imp, you say." Alastor thoughtfully replied, his expression unreadable.

"Look, Alastor." Husk turned back to his master, "Don't fuck this up for her. She seemed pretty happy last time I saw her. You disappearing like that wrecked the poor girl."

"Just means she'll be all the more happy to see me."

Alastor turned, beginning to walk away. At the sound of Husk speaking again, he paused, keeping his back to the quartet.

"Alastor, ju-"

Alastor turned his head, shooting Husk a critical look over his shoulder. It shut the cat demon up almost immedeatly.

"Best of luck, chums!"

"Wait, you're leaving?" Vaggie exclaimed, taking a step forward.

Irritation prickling beneath his skin, Alastor turned back to them once again. It had been seven years, he didn't know how much longer he could wait. Sure, he'd had time in Hell on his own, nearly twenty years of it. He didn't need her per-say, she just made things more interesting, more enjoyable. It just felt odd for them to be parted.

Sure, when they had first met, he had thought she was just an easy steal of a soul. Young, naive, frankly undeserving in his opinion of eternal damnation. But smart, smarter than she looked. Y/n had refused any and all deals with the man and so, he had taken it as a challenge. What had begun as a game: Alastor trying to gain ownership of Y/n's soul ended up as an after-life long friendship.

Alastor would never admit it to anyone but, in his absence, he had even missed Y/n the smallest bit. She kept things interesting, he told himself, that was all. Always causing discreet mischief, always quick with a joke. A true pleasure to have on the show, as he always used to say.

"Alastor, we need your help. We need you to do your job." Vaggie continued.

"We need a wall." Angel finished for her, gesturing to the portion of the hotel Sir Pentious had destroyed in his attack.

"Of course." Alastor replied, keeping an irritated remark at bay, "Can't let my new project fall into disrepair already. What would the papers say?"

With a snap of his fingers, minions made of shadows pulled themselves from the ground at his feet. So as not to give anyone another chance to stall him further, he quickly turned on his heel and walked off.

Alastor was a man of image, he kept his pace slow and firm. Couldn't have any of them getting any ideas in their heads about the nature of his relationship with Y/n. That had always been trouble in the old days. The minute people saw the pair together, they started assuming things. He had already decided he was going to be more careful about that this time around and this was the first step.

There was a slight bounce in his step as he headed into the city's center, an odd anticipation fluttering in his chest. Alastor pushed it to the side. It was simply the thrill of being back in his old stomping ground that was to blame. It didn't matter he'd already been back a few days and it should have worn off by now, he should just feel lucky to still be so entertained by this place he'd known longer than he'd even been alive. Right?

----

Y/n was sitting at Blitzo's desk, reading through paperwork he had neglected to fill out or file correctly. It wasn't like any one in Hell really payed their taxes, but the mess still stressed her out. She let out a sigh, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes in irritation. She had never had to do this type of work before, not since she'd been alive anyways. How the times had changed.

Noise of Blitzo and Moxxie fighting filtered in through the closed door. It wasn't anything special, anything new. The pair were always at one another's throats, she wasn't worried. What would be worrying, was if things were quiet. This was just the way life sounded now: inelegant and brazen. Nothing like it used to.

The buzzing of her phone on the desk beside her pulled Y/n from her reveries and she picked it up. The collar lay heavy around her neck as she read the message. Y/n had made some bad choices along the way, figuring out how to be on her own. She wasn't pleased with them, but it was what she had had to do. Back then, she hadn't had the need to fight for herself in over sixty years. It was the only thing she could think to do.

She double tapped the text, marking it with a thumbs up before shutting her phone off and leaning her head down on the table. There was no point in wishing for things to be different than they were but, it was just that time of year and the text had pushed her over the edge. A few stray tears trickled out of her eyes.

"Goddamnit, Al." she sighed into the empty room, "Where the hell are you."

Silence pressed its hands against her ears, blurring her perception of the world around her. Y/n had a few seconds, a few nearly peaceful moments before, again, her thoughts were interrupted. This time, not by her phone but by Blitzo calling for her from the other room.

"Y/n!" he yelled and she lifted her head off the table.

"Yeah?" she called back through the closed door.

"Get your ass out here!"

"Why? A client? Can't you handle it?"

"Y/n!" he insisted again, a sense of urgency to his voice.

If this was anything less than an absolute emergency, he was never going to hear the end of it. She was not in the mood for his games today.

"Fine." she groaned and pulled herself from the chair, "I'm coming."

----

Next Part -> Chapter Three -- A Reunion

[decolonize-the-everything]

Just discovered what "littermate syndrome" is and I'm disgusted with colonizers

Nothing is sacred that threatens their place of power no matter how minor that place is; they can't stand the thought of not being the center of someone else's universe.

I can't imagine the battles they must have in their heads to feel so superior to everything and simultaneously so scared of losing that unnatural belief in superiority that they can't even let dog siblings be around each other. Because even that tiniest inkling of having an actual community with others is a threat to their place of power.

All this oppression to maintain their delicate sense of safety which wouldn't be in danger to begin with if they'd minded their fucking business and just let people be.

Not EVERYTHING is here for them to take.

To make this understandable and maybe even relatable, the way colonizers treat the earth and it's inhabitants is how the worst of men treat women under patriarchy. Theirs for the taking. If a woman- like unclaimed land- is unharmed and still full of potential it's because a man simply hasn't found her and taken that status from her yet. Her freedom entirely dependent on how long she can avoid being seen by someone who wants to brag about owning her and the way he changed her.

If colonizers were just men maybe it wouldn't take so long to understand why colonization and subjugation to this extent, like sexual assault, is so unforgivable.

But thats not the case. So instead of having half the population as allies I have to deal with reading articles about "littermate syndrome" because how else are you going to cope with abandoning your humanity for power while pretending it's "just the way things are"

If it was really 'just the way things are' I don't think they'd need so many rules and cops and laws and states, and even articles about dogs to enforce all those ideas. Colonizers fight their own humanity and try to convince everyone else to hate themselves just as much and then have the audacity to accuse anyone who doesn't of being "uncivilized" and a "savage"

Like how the value of a dog directly correlates to it's trainability.

And all dogs can be trained, right?

Some of them just need more intense training. Sometimes you just need to deprive them of everything and teach them every blessing is a gift their "owner" alone can give, right?

Gotta teach em manners and civility and to be grateful for the blessing of being owned. Cuz imagine if they weren't and they had to survive on your own? Imagine how awful freedom would be, (classic colonizer line).

How dangerous to be on your own, unowned. Could you imagine how much worse the next person would be? Being owned by a nice colonizer is salvation. And you should be lucky because some colonizers... Well the way they treat their property is unthinkable isn't it?

Like what they said to natives after we were upset at being thrust from our land and onto reservations. At least they gave us land, right? According to colonizers it's them we have to thank for electricity and having a pot to piss in anyway. They could've just killed us.

They say the same about Palestinians now. And about prisoners. And they said it during slavery. And they've certainly said it to children who misbehave (act like a child). They say it about dogs. The earth.

Everything could be worse, though, right?

What ungrateful savages we are for not understanding how happy we should be just to be given the gift of the next breath by people who insist on seeing themselves as gods above us like they don't bleed the same color with the same ease as the rest of us.

And boy do they hate being reminded of that

[dramoor]

[queerfables]

Alright GO fans, let's talk Sodom and Gomorrah. This biblical story comes up a few times in Good Omens canon, a kind of offhand mention each time, and the most interesting part to me is the implication that Aziraphale was there.

If you only know the cliff-notes version, you've probably heard it as the story of God condemning homosexuality to the point of wiping out several cities over it. Maybe you've heard this too, but - that's not exactly what happened. Look, I'm an atheist, I have no dog in this race. If I thought it was about smiting people for homosexuality, I'd be happy to call God a wanker and move on. But I've read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah (You can too! It's very short!) and I've read other parts of the Bible that reference it, and I think a much more straightforward interpretation is that it's about offering hospitality and protection to strangers. It's also about the consequences of wanton cruelty, and God laying waste to those deemed beyond salvation.

In Good Omens, the book, Aziraphale and Crowley discuss Sodom and Gomorrah this way:

"Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly.

"Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?"

"Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-"

"I meant afterwards."

"Oh."

According to the book, then, Aziraphale at least saw the city after it was destroyed. Maybe Crowley saw the aftermath too or maybe he just heard about it. They both understand it as horrific.

The show is more direct, and suggests that Aziraphale was there during the actual destruction. Gabriel asks if Aziraphale remembers Sandalphon. Aziraphale does.

"Sodom and Gomorrah. You were doing a lot of smiting and turning people into salt. Hard to forget."

Aziraphale regards Sandalphon warily during the conversation. I believe we're supposed to interpret this scene based on the popular understanding of Sodom and Gomorrah as cities that God wiped out because of the inhabitants' sins. The obvious implication, then, is that Sandalphon is the heavy, the one called in to deal with disobedience. He's trigger-happy, relishes violence, and Aziraphale has seen what he's capable of. From the careful way Aziraphale discusses their prior acquaintance, I think he feels the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was a tragedy and believes Heaven's actions were disproportionate and unjust.

I'm confident this is how we're supposed to read the scene. In the context of the story, we're supposed to understand that Aziraphale doesn't approve of the smiting, and that he feels threatened by Gabriel and Sandalphon coming into his bookshop and pressing him about Armageddon. But I'm fascinated by what it would mean if Aziraphale and Sandalphon's history really tracks onto the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Because if Good Omens' version of Sodom and Gomorrah is at all biblically accurate, and if Aziraphale was there... it's kind of mind-blowing, actually, that he still feels so much compassion for the people who died and still thinks Sandalphon was wrong.

I'm going to explain why, but fair warning, it gets ugly. I promise nobody is actually raped, and I think that promise in itself says plenty.

According to the Bible, Sodom and its surrounding cities are accused of being overrun with sin. God sends two angels to Sodom to verify this, intending to destroy everything if they find it to be true. In the world of Good Omens, I think one of these angels must be Aziraphale. The other one is likely Sandalphon, but in the Bible it's God rather than either of the angels who rains down burning sulfur on the cities so it's possible it's someone else, and Sandalphon is only on smiting duty. Without anything else to go on, though, let's assume it's Sandalphon.

So our two angels arrive at Sodom in the evening, and at the gate to the city, they meet Lot. Lot is an immigrant who has made his home in Sodom, and I think the implication is that this is why he's not completely steeped in sin like everyone else. In any case, he immediately offers to put the angels up for the night, and although they'd planned to stay in the square, Lot is really insistent. He is a good host! Also, he knows the city is dangerous. So the angels go to his house and he makes dinner for them, and then before they can go to bed, a mob shows up at the door.

See, the men of Sodom have heard about the strangers staying with Lot. They surround his house and demand he hand them over. The New King James Version puts it this way: And they called to Lot and said to him, "Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us that we may know them carnally." Several other translations say that the men wanted to "have sex with them". But I mean. It's a fucking mob. They've surrounded the house. We all get what this is, right?

So Lot goes out to meet the men, and he says "Don't do this terrible thing." Off to a good start! Then he says, "Tell you what, I have two virgin daughters. Do what you like to them and we'll say no more about it." Oh boy. Dad of the year award, right there. But still, he insists, "The angels are under my roof and my protection."

The men outside Lot's house are pissed. They say, "You're an outsider, who are you to judge us?" They threaten to do worse to him than to the angels. They swarm him and almost break the door down, but the angels pull him back inside.

The angels then strike the mob with blindness to stop them getting into the house. They say to Lot, "Look, you gotta take your family and get out of here. God sent us to see how bad things were and, uh, long story short, we're burning it all to the ground. You get it, right?"

Maybe you know the rest. Lot's son-in-laws don't believe him and won't leave the city. Lot's wife looks back and turns into a pillar of salt. Lot and his daughters take shelter in a small town called Zoar, and from there flee to the mountains. Everything else is destroyed.

It is a tragedy. The plains are leveled down to ash, until there's nothing left that can even grow. Was there really no one innocent in those cities? No children or animals? (You can't kill kids). Still, I think about that awful night under Lot's roof and I don't think I could blame anyone for giving up on all of it.

So what if that's the story? There were two angels in Sodom before it fell. What if it really was Aziraphale and Sandalphon, trapped through the night in a stranger's house, surrounded by men who want to rape them. Whatever their power as angels, that has to be terrifying.

If it was Sandalphon there with Aziraphale that night in Sodom, I have to wonder what he was like. There isn't any kinship or understanding from Aziraphale. Despite knowing the circumstances better than anyone, he still sees Sandalphon as a threat. Given that, I think Sandalphon must have taken a truly disturbing kind of joy in raining down vengeful fire and brimstone, beyond what you might expect from someone who was afraid or angry. Maybe he was never afraid; maybe instead he revelled in the violence building through the night as the reason he needed to tear everything down. Maybe he was afraid in the terrible way that exposes the depths someone will sink to to protect themselves (maybe offering his daughters was never Lot's idea). Or maybe Aziraphale just tried to reach out to him afterwards, to offer understanding and ask for some in return, and Sandalphon shot him down so coldly and viciously that Aziraphale knew immediately this wasn't something he was allowed to have feelings about. Whatever happened that night, it left Aziraphale feeling more of an outsider from Heaven than ever.

But if it happened that way, it happened this way too: Aziraphale survives a night like that, and when he looks out into the breaking dawn, he thinks, these cities don't deserve to burn. He sees the good in a place that's just shown him its absolute worst. I think that says everything about him as a character, actually. Of course he won't give up on Heaven. Of course he'll fight tooth and nail for his home on Earth. Whatever the worst is, there are still things worth saving. There are still, always, people worth protecting.

On that note, before I wrap this up, I want to go back to Lot's words to the men of Sodom, and draw a parallel that makes me feel some kind of way. Because when Lot declares the angels under his protection, what he says is essentially, "Do not do anything to these men, for they have come under the shadow of my roof for protection." And all I can think about, reading these lines, is Aziraphale standing in his bookshop as it's surrounded by hostile demons, and telling the angel under the shadow of his roof, "You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will."