#I could be your beatrice

[peteytheparrot]

Ok but only A Series of Unfortunate Events could open with such a good quote every episode like ‘Darling, Dearest, Dead’ goes SO hard wtf…

[pochapal]

so if the black magic stuff is fascism and also the epitaph then i really do think "revive beatrice" is code for a successor to replace his lost love. kinzo creates the epitaph and the witch narrative as a process to generate a perfect substitute for the woman he destroyed with his twisted love.

[infinityinakiss]

beatrice, "the bringer of joy"

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Over The Garden Wall but instead of Wirt and Greg it's Grant and Paeden that's it that's all I needed to say thank you

[solace-saphylos]

Be Careful What You Ship For - Bully fanfiction

Rating: Explicit (Underage warning)

Tags: POV First Person, Unreliable Narrator, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Comedy, Pining, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Explicit Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Threats of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Eating Disorders

Ships: Gary Smith / Jimmy Hopkins, Beatrice Trudeau / Mandy Wiles

A self-recounted tale of how Beatrice Trudeau falls into a habit of writing smutty fanfiction about Jimmy/Gary. What starts as an innocent secret soon grows into something much closer to the truth than she ever intended. The vibrant life of Bullworth continues around her, with all of the blistering issues providing ample inspiration. If only she had known the consequences of seemingly inconsequential actions...

Ao3 link here

[sisterdivinium]

@halobearerhavoc By this tag, you signed up for what I am posting here now (I couldn't help myself, even if it's not a digital game!) Based on John Harper's excellent Lasers & Feelings, this is:

Warrior & Nun

You are members of the ORDER OF THE CRUCIFORM SWORD. Your mission is to protect humankind from demons, preserve your dignity while serving in the Church and finding your own faiths. The HALO BEARER has been sucked by an interdimensional portal, leaving you to fend for yourselves while on leave on The Other Side.

PLAYERS: CREATE CHARACTERS

Choose a weapon for your character: Sword, Staff, Shotguns, Crossbow, Pure martial arts, or Gadgets.

Choose a trait for your character: Proud, Discreet, Outspoken, Eager, Bubbly, or Sombre.

Choose your number, from 2 to 5. A high number means you're better at WARRIOR (fighting, strategising, athletics, strength, passion, etc). A low number means you're better at NUN (diplomacy, academics, social abilities, rituals, calm, etc).

Give your character a cool saint name or something like it.

You have: a regular habit, armour, means of communication with other OCS members, a Mother Superion.

Player goal: get your character involved in crazy demon-hunting and women-kissing adventures and try to make the best of them.

Character goal: choose one or create your own: Prove yourself to your shitty family, Become next in line as halo bearer, Find yourself a new family with your sisters, Forgive yourself for your own sins, Be loved, or Keep Being Awesome (you have nothing to prove).

PLAYERS: CREATE YOUR OCS CHAPTER

As a group, pick two strengths for your convent: Handy connection to a rich, brilliant scientist woman; Ties with a powerful cardinal, Highly competent sisters, Gadgets galore, Large library on demonology, Easy access to vehicles.

Also, pick one problem: Most of the sisters are aggressive, undisciplined and possibly sociopathic; The press is on to you, The Vatican is unwilling to spend another penny on you, Mother Superion is always having a bad day, You only have ammo and fuel for another week, Your house priest might or might not have been compromised by a being from another dimension and is secretly working against you...

ROLLING THE DICE

When you do something risky, roll 1d6 to find out how it goes. Roll +1d if you’re prepared and +1d if you’re an expert. (The GM tells you how many dice to roll, based on your character and the situation.) Roll your dice and compare each die result to your number.

⬇️ If you're using WARRIOR, you want to roll under your number.

⬆️ If you're using NUN, you want to roll over your number.

0 - if none of your dice succeed, it goes wrong. The GM says how things get worse somehow.

1 - if one die succeeds, you barely manage it. The GM inflicts a complication, harm, or cost.

2 - if two dice succeed, you do it well. Good job!

3 - if three dice succeed, you get a critical success! The GM tells you some extra effect you get.

!! - if you roll your number exactly, you gain a moment of REVELATION. You get a special insight into what's going on. Ask the GM a question and they'll answer you honestly. Some good questions: what are they really feeling? Who's behind this? How could I get them to _____? What should I be on the lookout for? What's the best way to _____? What's really going on here?

With your Revelation, you can change your action if you want to, then roll again.

HELPING: If you want to help someone else who's rolling, say how you try to help and make a roll. If you succeed, give them +1d.

GM: CREATE AN UNHOLY ADVENTURE

Roll or choose on the tables below.

A threat...

A possessed cardinal

A demon-worshipping cult

An eurotrash would-be prophet

A Vatican ex-archivist

A mad scientist

A renegade sister warrior

Wants to...

Destroy/corrupt

Steal/capture

Bond with

Protect/empower

Build

Occupy

The...

Pope

Divinium

Vatican

Quantum tunnel

Tarask/wight demon

Holy artefacts

Which will...

Destroy the halo

Brainwash the masses with a new dangerous religion

Enslave humanity

Start a war/invasion

Rip a hole in reality

Fix everything

GM: RUN THE GAME

Play to find out how they defeat the threat. Introduce the threat by showing evidence of its recent badness. Before a threat does something to the characters, show signs that it's about to happen, then ask them what they do. "The Firstborn Children guards run toward you, what do you do?" "Your undercover tactical nun partner pours you a glass of lemon drop and slips her arm around your waist, what do you do?"

Call for a roll when the situation is uncertain. Don't pre-plan outcomes — let the chips fall where they may. Use failures to push the action forward. The situation always changes after a roll, for good or ill. Ask questions and build on the answers. "Have any of you encountered a nun who to all intents and purposes was dead but is now alive and kicking whilst in the process of becoming some sort of demon hybrid before? Where? What happened?"

[kaurwreck]

Hello! I know a few people have said this already but I think you're a really cool blogger and I love reading your posts on classic lit and bsd (or even better when the two combined).

You have a really cohesive and wonderful way of speaking which drew me to your blog and has me feel more confident in writing more analytical posts myself- Please keep being yourself and enjoy your hobbies and interests.

If anyone starts being awful to you again for things you can't control remember that you don't owe them anything and that you are allowed to block people and look after yourself.

Thank you for being yourself and take care!

Thank you 🥺 It helps to hear, and I've been floored by the affirmation and sweet messages. I'm used to occasionally throwing little kitten hissy fits about the tension I have with fandom to close friends and moving on; this has been a very kind and compassionate change of pace.

Also, there is nothing I want more from my posts than to encourage others to write their own, explore the material, and feel confident in doing so. I started sharing my bsd thoughts outside of DMs because I wanted to see what others thought of the same things. But, mostly, I wanted to add to the wider fandom conversation about bsd's metatext after searching for conversations and finding fewer than I thought made sense for a work this expansive.

This isn't to say everyone has to or should do the same, or that I'm right about the metatext, or that anyone else is wrong. It's just to say that the playground Asagiri, Harukawa, et al. has built for us is so much wider than it seems, and I think so much of the space is underutilized or artificially homogenous.

In other words, I don't care nearly as much about whether you like the sandcastle I'm building, as I care that you know that it's your sandbox too, and neither me nor God nor the other kids on the playground can stop you from doing what you want with that.

[medusozoic]

Listening to hiding my heart and thinking about Beatrice and crying

[summers0n]

ok😂@Lostinanendlessmind pointed out that ava’s belt loop is very obviously not the sword cross guard in my last post and the blue light is really just a literal blue light🤦‍♀️

but overlooking the fact that i am blind and very clearly desperate for new content, im still hoping that this will be a scene where bea discovers an accepting religious community in the samaritans and not just a cliché dance scene

(not to say i don’t want a dance scene. i very much so would like a dance scene. please don’t take out the dance scene i actually really like that cliché😖)

[sylhea-raemi]

and what if nero thinks of himself as a tool for the three magicians he knew for a decade. what if he only limits as himself as a pawn, what if that's why he so easily threw himself as a sacrifice to protect his friends.

[r-p-k-m]

Yall know sayo isn't actually a system she just has like bpd or something right

[mcmansionhell]

we've found it folks: mcmansion heaven

Hello everyone. It is my pleasure to bring you the greatest house I have ever seen. The house of a true visionary. A real ad-hocist. A genuine pioneer of fenestration. This house is in Alabama. It was built in 1980 and costs around $5 million. It is worth every penny. Perhaps more.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Come on, Kate, that's a little kooky, but certainly it's not McMansion Heaven. This is very much a house in the earthly realm. Purgatory. McMansion Purgatory." Well, let me now play Beatrice to your Dante, young Pilgrim. Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome.

It is rare to find a house that has everything. A house that wills itself into Postmodernism yet remains unable to let go of the kookiest moments of the prior zeitgeist, the Bruce Goffs and Earthships, the commune houses built from car windshields, the seventies moments of psychedelic hippie fracture. It is everything. It has everything. It is theme park, it is High Tech. It is Renaissance (in the San Antonio Riverwalk sense of the word.) It is medieval. It is maybe the greatest pastiche to sucker itself to the side of a mountain, perilously overlooking a large body of water. Look at it. Just look.

The inside is white. This makes it dreamlike, almost benevolent. It is bright because this is McMansion Heaven and Gray is for McMansion Hell. There is an overbearing sheen of 80s optimism. In this house, the credit default swap has not yet been invented, but could be.

It takes a lot for me to drop the cocaine word because I think it's a cheap joke. But there's something about this example that makes it plausible, not in a derogatory way, but in a liberatory one, a sensuous one. Someone created this house to have a particular experience, a particular feeling. It possesses an element of true fantasy, the thematic. Its rooms are not meant to be one cohesive composition, but rather a series of scenes, of vastly different spatial moments, compressed, expanded, bright, close.

And then there's this kitchen for some reason. Or so you think. Everything the interior design tries to hide, namely how unceasingly peculiar the house is, it is not entirely able to because the choices made here remain decadent, indulgent, albeit in a more familiar way.

Rare is it to discover an interior wherein one truly must wear sunglasses. The environment created in service to transparency has to somewhat prevent the elements from penetrating too deep while retaining their desirable qualities. I don't think an architect designed this house. An architect would have had access to specifically engineered products for this purpose. Whoever built this house had certain access to architectural catalogues but not those used in the highest end or most structurally complex projects. The customization here lies in the assemblage of materials and in doing so stretches them to the height of their imaginative capacity. To borrow from Charles Jencks, ad-hoc is a perfect description. It is an architecture of availability and of adventure.

A small interlude. We are outside. There is no rear exterior view of this house because it would be impossible to get one from the scrawny lawn that lies at its depths. This space is intended to serve the same purpose, which is to look upon the house itself as much as gaze from the house to the world beyond.

Living in a city, I often think about exhibitionism. Living in a city is inherently exhibitionist. A house is a permeable visible surface; it is entirely possible that someone will catch a glimpse of me they're not supposed to when I rush to the living room in only a t-shirt to turn out the light before bed. But this is a space that is only exhibitionist in the sense that it is an architecture of exposure, and yet this exposure would not be possible without the protection of the site, of the distance from every other pair of eyes. In this respect, a double freedom is secured. The window intimates the potential of seeing. But no one sees.

At the heart of this house lies a strange mix of concepts. Postmodern classicist columns of the Disney World set. The unpolished edge of the vernacular. There is also an organicist bent to the whole thing, something more Goff than Gaudí, and here we see some of the house's most organic forms, the monolith- or shell-like vanity mixed with the luminous artifice of mirrors and white. A backlit cave, primitive and performative at the same time, which is, in essence, the dialectic of the luxury bathroom.

And yet our McMansion Heaven is still a McMansion. It is still an accumulation of deliberate signifiers of wealth, very much a construction with the secondary purpose of invoking envy, a palatial residence designed without much cohesion. The presence of golf, of wood, of masculine and patriarchal symbolism with an undercurrent of luxury drives that point home. The McMansion can aspire to an art form, but there are still many levels to ascend before one gets to where God's sitting.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[six-seasons-andamovie]

One of my favourite little details from Bojack is that in 'free churro', when bj is remembering his mother's dancing, it's the same music as the record is playing at the end of 'a horse walks into rehab.

The same thing can be said about Sarah Lynn. In the reprise of 'Don't stop dancing', when it changes into pop, it's the same beat used in her song 'Prickley Muffin'

[sortanonymous]

On the last Meta Knightmare...

Shiver Star, 1996 MSK

Susie: Who are the people in the picture, Mom? They look kinda like you, apart from the weird blue one!

Bea: Uh...

Chapter 2 of MKMIV: The Unforgettable Star-Studded Finale out now on AO3!

[debtsunpaid]

tag drop for BENEDICK OF PADUA from a modernized version of shakespeare's much ado about nothing, a soldier, party animal and love-denier (secret romantic) in the messiest situationship you've ever seen! his song is either "what is love" by haddaway or "bite the hand" by boygenius if i want to break my own heart, but i am using quotes from much ado about nothing for the tags instead because it is my favorite shakespeare play.

[hihomeghere]

Dreams | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 1.1k Summary : Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you Warnings/tags : Cursing, fluff, mention of infidelity, just Arthur being a sweet guy <3

He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be having these thoughts, because all they are just dreams. They’re never going to become a reality. Not when they’re constantly on the move, running from place to place. He sees the way it affects Jack, poor kid, not knowing what the hell is going on. And his daddy doesn’t exactly help him understand. 

He can’t even say he would be a better father, he wasn’t before. 

Hell you two ain’t even married yet, and he’s not that much of a fool. Not anymore. His regret for not marrying Eliza weighs heavily on him most days, even if he didn’t love her in that way. Now you on the other hand, he loves you more than anything. More than this stupid gang, more than life itself. He would happily lay down his life if he knew you would be happy, safe. 

When these thoughts enter his head, he can’t say. His days sort of blend together, making it hard to pinpoint. Although seeing you interact with Jack doesn’t help. 

You are so sweet, so motherly, hell you even mother the younger folks in the gang. Soft touches, kind words, but internally strong. You have all the qualities he finds attractive in a woman. Somehow you fell for him just as hard as he fell for you. 

But he ain’t a fool, he knows this ain’t the right time or place. So instead he writes down all these dreams in his journal, his safe place. The place where he can say anything without being judged. He dreams of little girls, he didn’t know how to interact with Isaac. Too afraid of being his own father. Girls seem less daunting, and a little you would be perfect. He already has one angel, what’s one more?

He comes up with the name while north of Brandywine Drop. The bright purple flowers caught his eye just off the trail.

Violet.

Violet Beatrice Morgan.

His heart sings, scribbling the name down in the margins of his journal. He finds himself writing VM in his journal, smiling foolishly to himself. It’s beautiful, his precious flower. 

It’s not like you meant to snoop. You were looking for Arthur, since he was nowhere to be found. You entered his tent, which in reality wasn’t much of a tent at all, finding his journal open. You walked over to it, looking over the worn page. There were the normal doodles he drew, along with his flowing hand writing. But one thing stood out to you, a pair of initials circled by hearts. VM.

You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t think of anyone you knew with the initials VM. Those definitely weren’t your initials either. 

With your curiosity peaked you flipped through a couple more pages. VM was written everywhere, along with those damn little hearts. 

You felt that little green monster grow inside you the further you looked into his journal. Biting your cheek so hard you could taste blood. It did nothing to quench the fire inside of you. 

“Darlin?” Arthur called walking into the so-called tent. You dropped the journal back onto the table, turning to face him. “There you are.” He grinned walking towards you.

“Here I am.” You said forcing a smile.

“Hosea said you were looking for me.” He said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Anything you need?”

“Must have forgot.” You said with a noncommittal shrug, “I ought to get back to work.” You nod walking past him. Arthur furrowed his brow at your attitude. Did he say something to offend you?

Then his eyes fall onto his open journal. His stomach drops at the sight. Jesus, you saw. You saw all of it. You were probably thinking the worst, seeing the initial surrounded by hearts. How was he gonna fix this?

You stomped off to the edge of camp, trying to wrack your brain as to who this VM could be. And why was Arthur drawing hearts beside the initials? Maybe you had this all wrong, Arthur would never do anything to hurt you. He was a good man, a man you could trust. Wasn't he?

“Y/n!” He called trailing behind you, a crestfallen expression on his face. You stopped at the tree lining, biting your lip as you turned to face him. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I-“ He sighed looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low curse. 

“Who is she?” You asked clenching your jaw. He furrowed his brows looking up at you.

“What?” He asked, his hands settling on his hips.

“VM, the girl you keep drawing hearts around. Who is she?” You were blunt, something he loved so much. Always telling it like it is, never leaving him to guess your feelings. A small smile spread on his face, which only made you more mad. “Seriously, you think this is funny?” You hissed, taking a step towards him. Arthur only had one choice, to tell you the truth. 

“Violet.” He said softly, reaching for you. “Violet Morgan.” You let him wrap his hand around your forearm, pulling you close to his chest.

“Who is Violet Morgan?” You asked, swallowing thickly. He sighed, looking off to the side, wetting his lips.

“She’s uh-“ He shook his head, a nervous smile on his lips. “She’s not exactly real, not yet at least.” He said. 

You shook your head, brows knitted together, “Not real? The hell you mean, not real?”

“I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck looking down, “It’s uh- shit.”

“Spit it out Morgan.” You huff throwing your arms up. 

“I thought of a name,” He explained, “A name for a girl if we- if we have one some day.” He said with a shrug, his cheeks flushed, almost as though he had been in a scuffle. 

Oh.

If we have one some day. 

“Oh Arthur.” You said softly, a smile spreading across your face. Feeling suddenly very foolish for doubting your man. “That's so sweet.” You took a step forward, tilting his face up to look at you. 

“Yeah?” He asked, looping his fingers in his gun belt. 

“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding. “Jesus you had me scared you were gonna tell me you found someone else.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Never. There ain’t no one else in this goddamn world that could replace you.” He said his hand reached up to cup your face. “You’re uh- you’re it for me darlin.” His bright blue eyes peered into yours, love and affection pouring out in his expression. 

“When we have our girl.” You said brushing away a stray strand of honey brown hair, “Violet will be a perfect name.” He grinned, wrapping a hand around your waist.

“Guess it’s settled then.” He said as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.