#like this man really started out as being worshipped as a saint and ended up weeping on a filthy floor for the devil to speak to him again

[depresseddepot]

I'm reading the winternight trilogy by katherine arden and I gotta be honest, I am obsessed with whatever fucked up nonsense konstantin has got going on

#sorry in advance if i have any christian followers #but something about watching extremely arrogant and devout christians lose their whole mind when their god isnt real is SO fun to read #like this man really started out as being worshipped as a saint and ended up weeping on a filthy floor for the devil to speak to him again #i JUST started the third book and (spoilers) the way his laughing and cheering at vasilisa's execution turned into like. #choked and panicked sobs #makes me feel some kind of way #yesss priest. lose your faith and then your mind and live haunted by your desire #i hope at the end of the trilogy he breaks so severely that he begs vasya to kill him and she doesn't do it #cause killing a bug under your boot requires you to dirty yourself with them #OR ALTERNATIVELY: he tries to worship her and she's like ''girl WHAT'' and kills him #this man is so fucked up and I am watching him so very closely. like a zoo animal #i never thought i had any preference for villains but it turns out i like the ones that weep and fall from very high places #and love and hate in the same breath #anyways. long story short there's a part of my brain now that is dedicated to priests losing their faith in god so much #that they beg what they think is the devil to return to them #GOOD SHIT ms arden thank u very much #in this house (my brain) we love men that are like pathetic wet rats !!!! kicked puppies !!!! xoxo !!!!

[xdaddysprincessxx]

Say your prayers little girl

Vampire Priest Joel Miller x f!stripper reader

Warnings: Dark fic/Dead Dove, non/dubcon (non bc he uses his powers on her taking away her consent but she does want it), religious theme, p in v (wrap ya dick kids), vampirism, blood, neck biting, mentions of sex work, oral (f receiving), dark fluff?? (The ending ended up softer than I intended), squirting, I believe that’s it!

Summary: Working in the adult industry tends to leave a bad taste in people’s mouth when they find out about your job. Growing up the church has been the only place you’ve been able to find solace and that’s where you seek solace now.

A/n: So I have no experience fucking vampiric priests but I do have religious trauma and a deep seeded need to fuck creatures of the night. Lightly edited, not beta’d, all mistakes are mine! Enjoy!(:

(Mood board made by moi 😇)

Living in LA is nothing like you imagined. Growing up in the Midwest, you moved out here for a fresh start with the hopes and dreams of becoming a movie star. Those hopes and dreams were dashed rather quickly when you struggled to find acting jobs and instead had to resort to working at a high end gentleman’s club. If you were being honest you did enjoy working at the club. You liked the attention, you liked the other dancers but most of all the money. However outside of the club it seemed as though everyone knew what you did for a living and despised you for it. Never in your life have you felt so judged by every passing face. You purposely wear an extra large hoodie with the hood up and sweat pants on just to go to the grocery store.

After working at the club for a few months, one night, around 3am, you were just getting off work. It was a chilly early Sunday morning, the streets covered in fog. Normally you drive to and from work but this particular night you didn’t have your car since it broke down on you a few nights ago. Walking the few blocks to your apartment you just happened to glance down the street you were crossing and saw a church sitting on the corner. Having only lived in the area for a few months, you hadn’t really explored it. Noticing the church doors were open, you decided to walk down to the church and take a peek inside. You grew up in the church. Your family went every sunday, your mom was the Sunday school teacher and your father and brothers regularly volunteered to help be alter boys or set up for fundraisers or whatever else the church needed. You always struggled with what they taught and stood for. If God is the one and only that you should worship why are we praying to all of these patron saints? If God answers prayers why isn’t he answering the prayers of those starving? Of those that are abused or dying from illness? Why does Debra from Mississippi who is judgmental and mean to others get her prayers of a fancy new car get answered but not little Susie who prays she gets taken away from her abusive father? At a rather young age, you struggled immensely with your faith and beliefs but you always found the church to be a place of comfort.

Approaching the front doors you notice some lights were on and someone was playing the organ. You slowly walked up the steps and went through the doors. As you walked in, there were pews on either side, a few random stragglers scattered all over and in front was an alter of Mary surrounded by lit candles and flowers laid at her feet. You passed the first two pews, choosing to stand in the back and just observe. You could hear someone quietly crying and sniffling, a couple of others whispering the rosary and before you know it you can hear soft footsteps behind you.

The sound of a man clearing his throat comes from behind you, making you jump and turn around.

“Well hello there. And who might you be?” says the priest with a smile.

Putting your hand over your fast beating heart, “Oh hi I’m so sorry Father. I saw the doors were open and I couldn’t help myself. I’ve always found comfort in the church.” You tell him as you introduce yourself.

“It’s very nice to meet you sweetheart, I’m Father Joel. Unfortunately we are about to close for the day. You see we like to keep rather strange hours for those who seek out the lord when others are usually in bed. But we will open back up at 10 o’clock tonight if you would like to come back.” He says sweetly as he touches your arm. You can’t help but have this overwhelming feeling of calm. You feel safe and wanted? Your not sure if wanted is the right word but it’s the closest to what you feel. The two of you smile at each other as the priest lifts open his other arm as a guide for you to go back out the doors you entered. You cast your eyes down as you walk back out into the early morning fog. Before you go to step down you turn back around only to be greeted by closed doors.

Hmm that’s weird. You didn’t hear the doors shut. In fact you didn’t hear anything nor did you see the other people leave. Confused as to what just happened you continue on your way back home.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

It’s been six months since you first discovered the church. You try to go as often as you can finding comfort not only in the church but with Father Joel as well. It didn’t take long for him to catch on to what you did for a living. But he never made you feel bad for it. In fact he seemed to be proud of you. One night you were on stage at work and you swore you saw his face in the crowd. That same night you found an envelope in your locker stuffed with money. Five thousand dollars to be exact. But today you decided to take the night off and go spend time at the church. The real reason why you liked to spend so much time there was Father Joel. You couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He had these beautiful brown eyes, fluffy curls on top of his head, the sweetest smile he seemed to save just for you. Oh and his smell! He had this scent to him, a clean yet woodsy scent that never failed to travel from your nose directly to your cunt. Ever since you’ve met him, you’ve been having these dreams of Father Joel. In these dreams you usually run into him in random places, sometimes it’s your house other times it’s a trail in a park you find yourself walking on. But every time he always gives you this look, a rather creepy smile and his eyes change color making him look evil before he dips his head down and kisses your throat. Always leaving kisses on your throat, kissing up your neck, nibbling on your ear sending the most delicious chills up your spine. You always feel this mix of being scared of him and also needing him so bad you might explode if he doesn’t touch you. Most of the dreams are just that. Running into Father Joel, him kissing your throat and neck and then you wake up. However lately the dreams have gone further. He’s started kissing your lips, you swear it feels as though he is actually pushing his tongue into your mouth and he’ll undress you leaving you naked and vulnerable. All for him he’d say as his eyes scan your body much like a predator would size up its prey. In your dream last night it was the same thing except this time after Father Joel undressed you he pulled his cock out, turned you around and pushed his cock in in one thrust. It felt so real you almost forgot it was a dream. He thrusted only a few times before you woke up only to be laying on a wet spot. As you jumped up off the bed, you gave it a quick sniff to make sure you didn’t pee. And sure enough it wasn’t pee. You must have been so turned on from your dream that your juices leaked out of your panties and left a little spot on your sheets.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

It’s already 11 o’clock at night when you make your way to the church. Wearing your favorite black dress with cap sleeves that hang off the shoulder and the bottom hits a little above your knees, you already feel better as you come into view of your sanctuary. Walking right in you immediately run into Father Joel hitting him square in the chest.

“Woah there little one. Not so fast now” he chuckles as he helps you straighten yourself back up. His hands holding your biceps as he stills and just stares at you.

“Father Joel I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!” You say breathlessly with a chuckle. Your smile almost wiped clean off your face when you see the way he’s looking at you. His eyes. . .

Almost in a flash his eyes go back to their normal brown shade and he smiles at you again.

“You look beautiful tonight. Go on go find a seat in the front row. I’ll be in there soon.” Father Joel tells you. As if by magic you quickly walk to the front pew and sit down. You body moved automatically as if you had no say in your body at all.

Folding your hands in your lap, you look straight ahead at the alter of Mary. Her statue looks as if she’s looking down at you with a soft,caring look on her face. A look that’s almost as if she feels sorry for you.

Soon enough you feel Father Joel’s presence next to you. However you’re stuck. Frantically moving your eyes all around, You realize you can’t move your neck or your arms or any part of your body. Starting to feel scared, your stuck sitting down, facing forward with your hands in your lap. That’s when you feel Father Joel’s hand land on your thigh.

“You know sweetheart it’s not appropriate to wear pretty little dresses like this to church.” Comes his husky low voice whispering in your ear, “especially at night all alone.” His hand starts to slowly move up your thigh, pushing your dress up.

Gasping as if you’re just now able to catch your breath, you can feel your body and your able to move again. You barely move your head to the left when you felt his face on yours. His nose brushes your cheek and you can feel his warm breath on your face. His lips almost touching your cheek.

“You never know who or what you’ll run into sweetheart.” He says as he continues to push up your dress, his thumb rubbing your thigh. Soon your dress is pushed all the way up, exposing your black panties underneath.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says tsking, “you’re wet. Don’t you know lust is a sin baby?” Father Joel said in a very low, hushed tone. He took his finger and rubbed up your clothed slit making you notice the wet spot on your panties.

Sucking his teeth he makes a disappointing noise,

“F-fa-father Joel w-what are you doing? I- we we can’t do this! Y-you’re a priest.” You hurriedly whispered to him. In your head you wanted him to touch you, you wanted your dreams to come true but you also knew he took vows as a priest. There was no way he could ever have relations with you. Not in the way you wanted.

“Oh sweetheart don’t be so naive,” he says as he nips at your neck, “I never said I was a good man. I never said I was a man at all.”

Terrified at the last thing he just said, you turn to face him and that’s when you see his pupils have gone black and his lips pushed back, exposing fangs.

You gasp, eyes go wide as you take in the sight of a man you thought you knew.

“Now get on your knees and pray.” He demands.

Your body obeys his demands as you sink to your knees and you bend forward, resting on your forearms, clasping your hands together as your bow your head in prayer.

You happen to glance up at the statue of Mary and she’s crying tears of blood! The flames of the candles seem to be flickering even higher and you notice there’s no other noise, no music, no murmurs. You feel Father Joel kneel behind you, his big hands gripping your hips and bringing your ass to meet his crotch.

“Mm you’re such a good, obedient little one,” Joel croons as he grabs your hair and pulls you up so your back is touching his chest, “Don’t worry baby you’ll like this next part.” Smirking, he whispers in your ear before opening his mouth and biting down on your neck just below your ear.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, the searing pain you feel from the bite. Tears start to fall down your face, you’ve never felt a worse pain than this. The pain seems to get worse, you can feel him sucking the area he just bit. All too soon you feel your energy drain.

Licking his lips, “Mm you have the sweetest taste my little one. You’re mine now. Your blood is mine, your body is mine.” He says in a hushed tone as he begins to lick your wound, laying chaste kisses on and around it as he goes. As weak as you are, you can’t help but feel these licks and kisses, it’s almost as if they’re in high definition. In fact all your senses feel sharper, more defined. Joel brings his wrist up to his mouth slicing open his wrist on a fang.

“Open wide my little one, I need you to drink the body and blood of your savior.” Joel says as he lifts his bleeding wrist to your open mouth. You suddenly find yourself extremely thirsty, your throat burning. When he offers his wrist, you suck down every drop greedily.

“Mm ooohh yes just like that baby drink every drop.” He moans out loud. Hearing him moan as you drink from him turns you on. Makes you want to do more to cause him to make those sounds.

Your face is covered in blood just like Father Joel’s as he pulls his wrist from your mouth and shoves your head down, forcing you back into a bow.

"Give your body to me now, let your savior in little one." Joel grunts out as he let's go of the back of your head and reaches down to pull your panties down. They drop around your knees, your hands go to clasp in prayer again as you feel him pull his cock out and rub it up and down your soaked folds.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, my cunt craves your cock Father. Please fuck me. Use my body, it's yours." You confess to him. This man, this creature, whoever and whatever he is; you want him. Your very soul now craves him.

Grunting, Joel slowly dips the head of his cock in your entrance, just barely giving you the tip before he pulls back and dips back in, giving you a little at a time. After a few teases, he pulls out and thrusts his cock in in one swift motion, filling you like no one has ever filled you. He begins to pump his cock in and out, you can feel your walls stretching just to try and accommodate his length.

"Ooohhgg nnggg yes father!! Oh fuck me! Fuck my cunt father!" You moan loudly, without a care in the world, "My body is yours! All yours! Fuck your cunt Father!" You scream out as he continues to pound into you mercilessly.

Hearing you declare yourself to him has Joel ready to bust. He's been watching you this entire time. From the very first meeting that he orchestrated, he knew you'd be so sweet and everything he wants and needs. He first saw you walking into the club, you looked too young and innocent to be a dancer. He immediately tapped into your thoughts and was able to discover everything he needed to know. Like how you're new to the area and very much alone and how you struggle with your faith in God but find comfort in the church. That gave him the idea to set up a trap just for you. See Joel owned this house on the corner. It's one of many, and this particular one, he decided to decorate it like a church. One day, he just happened to walk by your apartment and saw your car parked out front. Good thing he happened to be there because your car was leaking fluids, and Joel just happened to have a knife on him and he cut your fluid lines. It took you a couple of days but eventually, you stumbled upon his church and now he has you right where he wants you.

Joel continues to pound into you over and over, spearing you on his cock. The head kisses your cervix, making you scream out in pleasure. You can’t help but fuck yourself back on his cock. Pushing back on him almost as hard as he’s pushing into you. You feel yourself getting so close, never having felt a cock fuck you so good you came from penetration alone. You just need a little bit of attention to your clit.

“Fuck that’s it baby just like that. Fuck yourself on my cock. Nngh ooh oh fuck”

You feel Father Joel’s thrusts start to stutter, after a few more thrusts you can feel his dick pulse inside you, coating your walls with his thick load. You let out a whine as you feel him pull out. You were so close to coming, if only you could’ve touched yourself a little bit you would’ve came but he finished before you got a chance.

Joel pulls out and holds your pussy lips open with his thumbs as he admires his cum slowly pushing out of your entrance.

Hearing your whine Joel grabs your hips and helps roll you on your back. Once your completely on your back, he opens your legs, pushing your knees back up in your chest,

“Oh you poor thing. You didn’t get to cum yet did you? You just let me use this pretty little cunt huh? Don’t worry sweetheart it’s my turn to worship your heavenly body at the alter I built just for you.” Joel says to your sore pussy. Looking down at Father Joel, watching him stare at your cunt has you whimpering as he lowers his face and licks a wide stripe up your slit. Holding your legs up and he keeps his hands on the backs of your thighs, you can’t help but gush even more as he begins to suck on your clit as though it’s the most delicious piece of hard candy he’s ever tasted. You feel your high begin to build again in no time.

Joel can’t help but moan into your pussy. The taste of you and him combined is the sweetest nectar he has had the pleasure of experiencing. He starts to swirl his tongue around your clit while simultaneously sucking on it making you squirm around. His grip on your thighs tightens as he continues to feast from your body.

“Ooh oh fuck right there! Right there! Oh fuck! Yessss!” You scream out loud as you hit the hardest orgasm you’ve ever received. You pussy gushes so hard you actually squirt, watching it hit Joel in the face. He has a look of intense hunger as he opens his mouth to collect every drop.

Joel’s mouth leaves your body as you continue to lay there with legs shaking. He slowly lifts up and looks at you with a devilish grin.

“Let’s get you home and cleaned up my love. There’s a lot I have to teach you and show you now that you’re mine.” Joel says as he pulls your panties up. Finally starting to get your wits about you, you realize your covered in blood. So is he. Joel goes to stand to fix himself when he rips the white collar out,

“Don’t need this anymore” he chuckles as he throws it to the side. He reaches back down, placing an arm under your back and the other arm under your legs and picking you up like a baby, cradling you to his body.

Glancing around the empty church, “Father Joel what happened to the other people who were in here?” You ask.

“ Just Joel baby. You can call me Joel. And they were all an illusion my love. Merely a figment of your imagination. I had to make this church believable for you sweetheart. If I kept it empty you would’ve been suspicious. I couldn’t have that now could I?” He replies.

Despite all of the red flags that have been going off, you are perfectly content. Happy to be in his arms as he walks out the doors and down the steps to a car parked outside. Carefully opening the door, Joel sits you down in the passenger seat before shutting the door and walking around to the drivers side to get in.

Once inside the car, Joel starts up the engine and goes to grab your hand,

“Let’s go home my love” he says to you smiling. You smile back at him, ready to spend the rest of your days by his side.

A/n: I hope y’all enjoyed this! It literally came to me the other night while I was getting dicked down lol (: anyways yea. Thank you so so much for every like/reblog/comment! You guys are the best!♥️

#vampire priest Joel #joel miller #Joel Miller au #vampires #spooky fic #dark fic #dead dove 🕊️ #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou

[landwriter]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @tiltingheartand <3 thank you!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

11!

What's your total Ao3 word count?

129,874. Brevity evidently is not my strong suit! Which is also why the rest of this is under a cut.

What fandoms do you write for?

The Sandman! I also just watched Dead Boy Detectives and think I might write a couple little things for it too.

Top five fics by kudos:

Saint Morpheus (11,882 words) - My first fic! Saints and worship

The Death of Translation (10,968 words) - the Language fic

Oaths (60,443 words) - Tam Lin AU and my precious baby. I'm so proud of this one. It's got so much of me in it. Def the first fic I would consider a full send

Border Country (6,100 words) - Clothing, the inherent body horror of being alive, and self-denial. Have always meant to do a sequel for this and may do for S2

Black Shore (3,962 words) - Monsterfucking :-) Weird little beast of a story that came out of nowhere fully formed

All Sandman, all Dream & Hob, haha. Doubt that will change with new fics unless I find a more popular pairing in a more popular fandom to write for

Do you respond to comments?

I do! I love discussing characters and theeeeemes and sharing enthusiasm with people. I love hearing what I've inflicted and I'll thank you for telling me <3 Once I started getting busier I found it a lot harder to keep up, but I treasure all my comments so if you suddenly get a reply like, a year later, you know why!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's for sure The Many Lives of Hob Gadling. Everything else I've written except Border Country has ended, like, tooth-rottingly kind and optimistic and love-filled. But lbr Dream is a man of tragedies. There'll be more

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It's such a personal thing, but Oaths has the happy ending I would consider most wonderful sort of happiness. It's not the fluffiest or most fairy-tale (having written just that also), but this specific flavour of joy and peace in terms of experiencing the beauty of the world around you and being just shot full of love. The happiness of growing things and sunrises. Or Just Like Love. From the Corinthian's perspective. He's so happy with the state of things at the end.

Do you get hate on fics?

Only the once! Fortunately everybody else who has hated a fic of mine has been able to find the back button and gone off to read something else or grouse about it in private, which is the correct way of things. There's no reason, ever, to tell an author you disliked their story. They will not be grateful for it no matter how certain and correct you feel in your criticisms. Nobody wins! Sorry! Go tell a friend instead.

Do you write smut?

You betcha I do! The first time I wrote it for Saint Morpheus it felt so unnatural and I was just making a :| face the whole time but now sex scenes are among my favourite things to write. I feel like I've really cum come into my own with them more than any other kind of scene.

Craziest crossover:

I've never done a crossover! I love reading them though.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so! I mean, not great, etc., but personally I also deeply don't care. I imagine having a job where what I am actually creating & selling for money gets stolen often sort of skews my perspective on my fic getting stolen. It's not a commercial product. It isn't paying my mortgage. I give these words for free and with love. If they end up places I never put them, so be it! Such is the internet.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! 【授權翻譯】翻譯之死 The Death of Translation by Ethiseth. Legitimately one of the highest honours I think a fanfic writer can ever receive <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No!

All time favourite ship?

Hob / the world :-)

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My very first WIP for Sandman! I started writing it then joined tumblr the next day, saw some of @messmonte's art, and was off writing Saint Morpheus in short order. Sorry 1989 canon divergence fic! Maybe one day.

What are your writing strengths?

Five dollar words. Long sentences. Big sweeping feelings. Instilling my personal values, i.e. love is real, you are surrounded by beauty at every turn, you deserve the things you want, monologues are a normal and practical form of communication, etc.

What are your writing weaknesses?

God, actually finishing and sharing things, I think. I haven't had enough time in my life lately and it kills me! But it's also such a me problem because I love to worry at and chew on WIPs forever. Writing fast would be so cool. Pew pew pew! New fics left and right. You guys would be buried in them. Man, I wish.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Can run gimmicky but also I love multiple languages in one conversation as subtext so much - I'm torn. Same as accents in that I suspect it's most cases better to just note it in the speech tags, unless you're willing to go through the trouble of inline/hovertext translations, and then at that point it's a bit If You Give A Mouse A Cookie for me where I'll want translator's notes too, maybe some metatextual payoff, etc.

First fandom you wrote in?

Technically FMA, but that's a story for another day hahaha. Sandman, really.

Favourite fic you've written?

Oh golly. Oaths. I did so much for the first time with that story. But it's hard to choose, which is such a nice problem to have. I think it's easy when you've never written fic before for each new thing to mean something different to you!

No-presh tagging @wordsinhaled, @moorishflower, @tj-dragonblade and anyone who wants to do this too - just tag me so I can be nosy <3

#tag games #fic questions #my process #my horrifying horrifying process #the sandman #fic writing

[ystrike1]

In Her Fifth Life, the Villainess Lives With the Evil Dragon -The Evil Dragon of Ruin Wants to Spoil His Bride- By Shimada Rine (8/10)

I have really, really high hopes for this one. I can't give it a score higher than an 8 for multiple reasons though. The high school setting doesn't make much sense. The main character doesn't even feel like a student, and she feels no attachment to her country. BUT the art, the main couple, and the drama are all fun.

*EXTREME GURO AND REVENGE*

Musee suddenly remembers everything. She is the loser. She has lost her life four times. This life is her fifth, and she will die again. She's not a character in a game (I think). Musee is caught in a web of insanity. Her fiance has been seduced by a Hidden Saint. A woman that brings prosperity to the country she lives in. The concept of a Saint is pretty interesting here. The existence of a saint drives people mad with religious fervor. The Saint doesn't really have friends. Just servants who exist to make her happy, so she will continue to bring good luck and fertility to the land. What does this cause??? Pure chaos. The Hidden Saint is a narcissistic teenage girl and her teen boy slaves are violently desperate to please her.

Musee doesn't know any of this. She doesn't understand why she keeps dying. The Saint, Aly, keeps turning back time because things aren't going her way. The world keeps ending, even though she's a Saint and that's Not Supposed to Happen. There's another power in the universe stronger than a Saint. It's the Dragon of Ruin, which keeps ending the world. Musee is a tragic side effect of a greater game. Aly doesn't love the manservants who join her cult, but she needs them, and Musee is in the way. Musee isn't really affected by the Saint's charm...it's heavily implied that Aly prefers to seduce men. I don't think she's using magic on them. The all powerful prosperity a Saint brings simply makes her irresistible to young lordlings. Which makes sense because deep down most noblemen do care about power first.

Musee snaps. In her previous four lives she was killed by her fiance, raped, hunted down by assassin's and pushed off a cliff. All because Aly wants every strong man to worship her, and Musee is in the way. Why? Well Musee is beautiful and competent and she's prideful. When her fiance, Alfred, started to cheat on her she intervened and told Alfred to snap out of it because they are bound by duty. Aly, of course, uses her status as a secret Saint to seduce Alfred anyway. Purely because he's a descendant of a current King, who is very popular and highly respected.

Things get real fucked up. Musee begs in public. She asks Alfred to break off their engagement. He says no. He needs Musee to be his cover wife. Aly isn't willing to reveal her Saint identity...for some reason. She might be fake but who knows. Alfred intends to start a family with Aly, while legally married to Musee...because that's what is most convenient for him. He brings a creepy guy with a sword to Musee's home to threaten her. He clearly intends to kill her off after the marriage is finalized...it's...pure evil??? Musee remembers the one being who cared about her in her previous life. The Dragon, Ragna. Ragna kinda sorta killed her once, but he was under mind control. The Dragon of Ruin keeps destroying everything because a cult keeps mind controlling him. He's not actually evil. He doesn't give a shit about humans, and his birth realm is entirely separate from the human realm. He met Musee when she was about to die. Her grace and profound lack of a desire for vengeance impressed him. He wished that he could marry her and let her be happy, before she died. Musee calls for Ragna. He literally comes just in time, and he takes Musee away from her insane fiance.

Ragna negotiates with the King, who is a pretty cool guy. Ragna is also totally a yandere who wants to kill Alfred and every other noble cultist in court. Musee doesn't let him, because she's really fucking tired of Aly's bullshit. She just wants to live, and she wants to spend time with Ragna.

Aw.

Ragna can turn into a handsome human. He immediately starts to spoil Musee...with compliments. He makes her feel loved, because she makes him happy. He's extremely proud to be her mate. Musee has strong feelings for him too. She wasn't totally in love when they first met, but he kind of made an impression. She thinks he's a noble and worthy partner as well. They fall in love quickly, and it's really believable, because Ragna has magic. He looks into Musee's mind, and he sees their shared memories. They behave like a married couple right away and it's nice.

However this causes huge problems. The tone of the story feels VERY off after chapter two. Musee and Ragna are both quite old, and both of them are in danger. Aly's cult wants to destroy Musee. The Dragon Cult wants to capture Ragna. I don't understand why Musee is still living in her family home??? She still wants to go to school too??? Why???? I thought Ragna would take her to a slightly remote castle. I thought Aly would send assassin's and stuff, because that's what happened before in the other lives. It would have been more exciting now that Musee has Ragna. But...they go to high school lmao kill me...

The yandere moments with Ragna are incredible. Epic. Awesome. Everything from his personality to his character design is top notch....but the fucking tone lol. After Ragna saves her from an insane Aly cult assassin they walk directly into the school Aly attends it's unreal...

Aly is cruel, not smart. She has all the IMPORTANT men under her control. She's a discriminatory asshole even though she's not noble enough to marry Alfred legally. Anyway that means some of the servants aren't under her control. This servant, Carlos, is under the prince of the country. The prince is in the cult. He isn't cool like his dad. He wants to worship a Saint and let her presence solve all of his problems. Pathetic. Carlos reprimands his prince when he's rude to Musee... because duh. Musee's husband is a dragon, but the cult idiots are still rude to her because they think the Saint's influence will protect them. Everybody under Aly thinks Musee summoned Ragna on purpose to destroy the country. Even though the country is not destroyed...and Musee still lives in her family home....what???

Chapter five is out now and...ugh...the magic is fading. Aly WALKS UP TO RAGNA AND SHE IMMEDIATELY STARTS FLIRTING WITH HIM. Ragna is attending school SPECIFICALLY to protect Musee. This isn't even funny. Ragna is only willing to entertain this game for Musee's sake. He would rather kill everyone...but still these dumbass cultists think he can be seduced. It's reaaaalllyyy unrealistic. Musee has no friends. The cult is actively damaging the country. Musee should just let Ragna roast the school....but that won't happen.

....after Aly attempts to flirt with Ragna Musee puts on a beautiful dress. She dances with her husband and the Saint realizes her charm doesn't work on dragons.

Idk where the plot goes from there...but this was really promising...more cult less high school please. Please tell me I'm not the only reader that noticed that the characters FEEL like adults. None of them behave like students.

*******

All of this is a plot within a plot...to trap and torture everyone who hurt Musee.

Brilliant plot twist, but the ending is highly disturbing.

Read with caution.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #manga #isekai #manga review #In Her Fifth Life #the Villainess Lives With the Evil Dragon -The Evil Dragon of Ruin Wants to Spoil His Bride- #The Evil Dragon of Ruin Wants to Spoil his Bride

[fichtfoxfuchs]

001 for Bela/Rod

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

I AM SCREAMING RIGHT NOW

I AM SO FUCKING HYPED ABOUT THIS ASK

OF COURSE I'M GONNA LOSE MY SHIT OVER THIS SHIP

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK !!!!!!!!!!

About Bela and Rod 👀

When I started shipping it if I did : You'll be surprised /j

But I started shipping Bela and Rod around the same time I started shipping the throuple. So yeah. I'm conscious I don't show the same amount of love for Bela/Rod that I did for Bela/Farin, but I do love the ship the same way, and I admit that the three-way ship blurs the lines greatly for me. It started quite quickly after I started being a fan of the band tho. Like a few months after me being told about the band by a friend.

My thoughts : I WORSHIP THEM

I WOULD SELL MY SOUL FOR THEM TOGETHER AND STAYING TOGETHER EVER AFTER. I really think that this ship is criminally underrated and that Rod is underappreciated in the fandom as a whole. I am not saying that people must worship the ship as I do, but seriously, Rod is underrepresented in every fanfic website known to mankind. And there are so many dynamics that can be explored between Bela and Rod, it's a territory that only asks to be explored ! My thoughts are that I dearly love them together, and really want and need to write more about them. I would love to write about the Depp Jones era, and just about the ship in general.

What makes me happy about them : Them being in love with each other.

As a gay man, any kind of relationship between men is important to me and worthy of depiction. I am all about "we should show more men being friends with each other without being called gay, we should show men being vulnerable with each other and not turn it into a romantic relationship" and I still believe deeply in these things, and I do believe it's easier to explore these dynamics with Bela/Farin. But I absolutely love, ADORE romantic depictions for Bela/Rod. Them being hopelessly in love and adoring each other. Bela relying in Rod in his toughest moments, Rod loving him during his darkest days, them growing to have an healthier relationship, based on blind trust and an unfathomable love for each other. Bela supporting Rod in all his projects, Bela being there whenever it gets hard for Rod. Them being sensual men. I love them getting physical that doesn't necessarily end up in sex. Just being freely manly men who love each other and love each other's manly qualities. That makes me so freaking happy and make me love them even more !

What makes me sad about them : two things !

First of all, Rod being fetishized by some fanfic writers. Big nope nope to me. I am absolutely not saying that I am free of any harmful depiction of the man, I cannot judge my work objectively, so I don't know if I ever wrote harmful things or not. I am not saying that I am a saint by any means, but I did read things that are... Overly questionable.

The lack of fanfics about the ship in general. Criminal if you ask me.

(I'm conscious that I didn't publish my fair part for the ship, but I'm painfully trying to write and it just doesn't take off for the moment, and it frustrates me to no end XD)

Overall, people should just SHOW SOME LOVE FOR MY GOOD MEN. THEY DESERVE EVERY BIT OF ATTENTION AND INK.

Things done in fanfics that annoy me : Age difference that ends in age play.

Like I'm the biggest sucker for age difference, and I absolutely love covering this fact with Bela and Rod because their age difference is even more striking, but I personally don't like age play, so... Making Rod the baby of the relationship is a personal nope to me. I don't judge people who write so, to each their own tho !

Things I look for in fanfics : Rod being vulnerable.

HEAR ME OUT

I am ALL about Rod being the dominant figure in the relationship and in bed. I absolutely love every single instance of this fact in fics, I re-read certains fics tens and tens of times because I LOVE IT.

But.

It's not often we read about Rod struggling and needing help to face his struggles. I love the drama and all the things that can come with Bela's character's past and how Rod helped him facing his demons and grow up to be the man he is today. But rarely do we ever see Rod being vulnerable, in relationship and in bed, and I have a few ideas in my own fics to cover this fact. I wanna see a sensible Rod. I love dominant and sure-of-himself Rod, but I also want to see him as a man worthy of love in his toughest moments.

Who I'd see comfortable them ending up with, if not each other : Farin Urlaub. Next question 😂😂😂😂

My happily ever after for them : It is the same as my throuple headcanon, so I will still say it :

Them marrying each other and Farin being their witness.

Them becoming grandparents by each other's side. Inviting their families as often as possible and just living peacefully with each other when they finally retire years and years later. Them growing even older and still loving each other. Waking up all wrinkled and still smiling because God, does he love this man... Looking at the ring and thinking it was the best idea of their lives. Just drowning in love, really XD

Who is the big/little spoon : perhaps a surprising answer, but...

I see them switching depending on the mood. I'm a fervent supporter of Rod being shown love, being protected and reassured. I'm a fervent supporter of Bela laying in Rod's arms and feeling content, sane, protected and loved and appreciate as who he is.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity :

I would say jamming together, as Rod is all about practice, but honestly? Getting to be fathers and raising their kids together. Seeing each other being a role model and so patient and kind to the kids just make them fall in love with each other even more.

I had lots to say, thanks to you, and I thank you so much for sending me this ask, I was so incredibly HAPPY to get it, and I am so happy I have been able to talk about them in more depth. I hope you liked it ! Thank you again so much !

#answering wildeoscars #shipping content #die ärzte #Bela/Rod

[set-phasers-to-whump]

the motherland don't love you, the fatherland don't love you, so why love anything?

prompt: drowning their sorrows

whumpee: kind of all 3 of napoleon solo, illya kuryakin, gaby teller

fandom: the man from uncle

hey!! this fic is a bit different from my usual stuff, it's much more about the angst and kind of the character study type aspect, so it's not whump in a traditional sense. nonetheless i really enjoyed writing it and i hope you like reading it!! (title from ya hey by vampire weekend)

“Listen,” Napoleon says, after his sixth or seventh glass of Scotch. “Fuck the Central Intelligence Agency.”

Gaby raises an eyebrow at him, takes a sip from her glass, and waits for him to say something else. 

Napoleon, however, seems to have lost his train of thought. “Fuck the CIA,” he repeats. “Nothing but a bunch of extortionists.”

“Yeah,” Gaby agrees, with the tone of one who doesn’t know exactly what it is they’re agreeing with but who is staunchly in support of it nonetheless. “Fuck the CIA,” she echoes, giggling at the English curse. 

Napoleon smiles, then grows serious, evidently having remembered his earlier thoughts. He sets his glass down with a thump. 

“No, really. I mean, God knows I’m no saint, but…look at us.” He gestures in a vague circle that encompasses himself, Gaby, and Illya, all painted with bruises and cuts of varying severity, marks of a severely botched mission and the reason for their present collective inebriation. 

Napoleon then gestures to himself, prods at his fresh black eye with a bit more force than is wise. “Ow.”

“We do not work for the CIA,” Illya points out, speaking slowly to avoid jumbling his words. “Only you.”

Napoleon scowls at him. “Not the point, Peril. My point is…my point is, how often have we looked like this because of an UNCLE mission?”

Illya shrugs, scrunching up his face like he’s actually trying to count. 

Gaby answers for him. “Not very often. Not this bad.”

Napoleon points at her. “Exactly. UNCLE has better intel - well, maybe not this time, but you know - and they actually sort of care about us. Like, Waverly probably wouldn’t threaten me with prison if I was a little cheeky with him. Probably.”

Gaby and Illya both nod. 

“And,” Napoleon starts, more to indicate that he wants to keep talking and less to introduce a well thought-out sentence, “and. Okay. I mean, I’ve never been in the KGB and I didn’t grow up in East Berlin, so I can’t really speak for you guys, but my boss here?” 

He stops, considers his use of prepositions, realizes they’re not actually in the States at the moment, and rephrases. “Back in the US, I mean. Sanders, my boss, terrible man, really, talking a big game about the country being on top of the world like he’s the one who put it there. Anyway. He threatens me with prison pretty much weekly.”

Gaby looks at him intently. “Can he actually send you to prison?”

Napoleon shrugs, does his best to be nonchalant. “Probably. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince whoever it is that needs convincing. I mean, sure, I’m useful as an agent, but at the end of the day I’m nothing but a dirty thief who should worship the ground the CIA…well, I guess the CIA as like, a thing, can’t walk, but you know…I should worship the ground the CIA walks on because they kept me out of prison. Not that working for them is anything like freedom.”

“I understand,” Gaby says, leaning slightly against Napoleon’s shoulder, partly as a gesture of comfort and solidarity and partly because everything has gone a little spinny. She waits until the feeling subsides, then speaks up again. 

“In Berlin, they trap us. East Germany is supposed to be a good place, that’s what they tell you, but then they build this wall through the city. And what are we supposed to do? We can’t go over it, they will kill us. It’s like they don’t understand that it’s the same city on both sides. There’s no freedom like that. I don’t even miss it.”

She falls silent, finishes her drink, pours another, contemplates it for a moment. 

“I do miss it, I guess. Is it possible to not miss your home?”

Her eyes have gone a bit glassy. Unconsciously, she rubs at the fresh red scratch on her cheek. 

“It isn’t like East Germany ever cared about me. Or anyone, really. Do you know how many people they arrest every day? For nothing. They questioned me about my birth father once. Two years ago they arrested my neighbor for…how is it in English? Sed… something. They said he was against the state. He was only a painter.”

“Sedition,” Napoleon chimes in, shaking his head. 

Gaby nods. “That’s it. Sedition.” She pronounces the word carefully, committing it to memory. “And even then I - I do miss it. Even after everything. There is nothing left for me there, no one. Still, sometimes I think about how I can never go back, and I think it should feel like…like freedom, but it doesn’t.”

She leans more heavily into Napoleon and shuts her eyes. She will not cry over this. Over a place that does not care for her in the slightest. Over a place that she is indifferent to and misses in the same breath. 

A soft silence. Gaby scrubs at her eyes. Illya shifts slightly in his chair, keenly aware of the fact that it would seem to be his turn. 

He finishes the last of his drink - he doesn’t know what it is, something Napoleon made that had tasted good earlier but is now horribly bitter. He doesn’t know how many of these terrible drinks he’s had. He should have kept count. He shouldn’t be so drunk. But he is, and so his tongue is loosened. He takes a deep breath and tries not to wince when his bruised ribs protest. 

“My father was not a good man,” he says, and then stops. Napoleon and Gaby both look at him, attentive. He looks away, continues after a beat. 

“He was arrested. Sent to Gulag. He stole money from the Party. I thought, they will kill him. But he is still alive. No one can see him. They will maybe tell me when he dies, I don’t know.”

He pauses, considers, formulates the English words. “He is a criminal. Or else they would have freed him. He is in prison for almost twenty years. Oleg Grigorievich, he says to me sometimes… Solo,” he says suddenly, looking at his partner. 

Napoleon looks back at him with startling intensity. “Yeah?”

“You said that Sanders, he threatens you with prison, yes?” Illya asks, and then barrels on atop of Napoleon’s affirmative answer. 

“Oleg Grigorievich also does this. He tells me I will end up in Siberia like my father if I do not perform well. I love my country, I will die for my country, but…I do not love him.”

Gaby nods seriously. “Fuck Oleg Gri…gorievich,” she proclaims, pausing in the middle of the patronymic to hiccup. Napoleon snorts, and she elbows him. He winces. 

“Your elbows are sharp. And I already have a bruise,” he complains. 

“Sorry,” Gaby apologizes, mostly sincerely. 

Illya looks at them. He is beginning to think he should not have begun speaking, because now he is not sure that he can stop. 

“I am good at my work. KGB needs me. I am happy to work for my country. But…”

“Go on,” Napoleon encourages, leaning forward. 

“We won’t tell anyone,” Gaby adds. “Nobody tells anyone anything.”

“Except each other.”

“Obviously.”

“I was just making sure!”

“But,” Illya continues, and Napoleon and Gaby turn their attention back to him. “You are nice to me.”

He doesn’t say anything else. His face feels hot and his throat feels tight. For a very long moment all three of them just look at each other. 

And then, as if by design (though neither one of them had spoken to the other), both Gaby and Napoleon get up and grab hold of Illya’s hands. 

“What are you doing?” Illya asks, scarcely moving despite their straining. 

“Come sit with us,” Gaby says. 

“Please?” Napoleon adds. “So we can all be miserable together.”

“We are already together,” Illya points out. 

“Come on, please?” Gaby asks. 

Illya heaves another sigh that has him wincing. “Okay.”

He lets them pull him to his feet. For a second he gets horribly dizzy and he has to close his eyes. When he opens them again, he’s leaning against Napoleon and Gaby has her hands on his back. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just dizzy.”

“So’m I,” Gaby agrees. “Come on, let’s sit.”

The three of them stumble back to the couch and sink down onto it rather ungracefully. Napoleon ends up in the middle, with Illya curled into the corner beside him and Gaby lying her head on his leg. 

“I’m glad you ruined my car,” Gaby suddenly says, not moving her head from its pillow. 

“What?” Napoleon asks. “We destroyed it. Beautiful car, too.”

Gaby shrugs as best as she can given her current position. “If you didn’t ruin my car, we would not be here now.”

She does have a point, Napoleon figures. “I’m glad we’re here,” he adds. “Working for the CIA is mostly terrible. Working with you is fun. You’re…” He trails off, unsure of or unwilling to fully voice any further words. 

Illya shifts a little closer to them, carefully. “At home I am part of machine. I do not mind this, but with you I am something else. Not a machine.”

“Just a person,” Gaby says. “More free.”

It’s different for her, she knows. Her career as a spy has been with Waverly alone. The only person controlling her is someone she trusts and likes. 

And yet Napoleon agrees. “Yeah,” he says, slowly. “I mean, Sanders is still in charge of me, but so is Waverly, and with UNCLE I’m not a prisoner of the US government, or at least I don’t feel like one. Maybe one of these days I won’t be, I don’t know. I’d work for UNCLE, with you guys, even if it was my choice, is what I mean, I suppose.”

“I am maybe not so free at home,” Illya chimes in, leaning slightly onto Napoleon. “This is how it is, I don’t mind. It is important that there is an order, things like this. But we…we care about each other, yes?”

It takes Gaby and Napoleon a second to realize that they’re being asked a question here. 

“Of course,” says Napoleon. 

“Obviously,” Gaby agrees. 

“Okay. We care about each other. And maybe so does Waverly. This is different. I am…I have…I can be something else here. And that is good too.”

“Well put,” says Napoleon. “Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m feeling a little bit too drunk and a lot bit like I’d like to go to sleep.”

“Me too,” Gaby chimes in. 

“Yes,” agrees Illya. 

“And I’m not moving.”

“Me either.”

“I will stay.”

Napoleon nods slowly, closing his eyes when this makes him too dizzy. “Glad we’re agreed.”

They rearrange themselves as best as they can, which involves a lot of shuffling around, grabbing of arms for support, and general wincing. Eventually, they manage to configure themselves in a reasonably comfortable manner, all stacked and tangled together. 

“Goodnight,” Gaby mumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of Napoleon’s shirt. 

“Night,” Napoleon echoes, already half asleep with his face pressed into a cushion. 

“Goodnight,” Illya concludes, head propped up at a slightly uncomfortable angle against the armrest. 

In the morning, there will be pounding headaches, empty glasses and bottles to clean up, and various injuries to check in on. But for now, there is only silence and comfort. There is only them.

thanks for reading! this was a whole different kind of beast to write but i really loved getting to explore their characters like this, i have so many thoughts about them that don't often get to come through in my usual 'beat them up' fics. i hope you enjoyed this!!

#bad things happen bingo #drowning their sorrows #the man from uncle #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #gaby teller #drunk #angst #emotional whump #i say things #my writing #i have been wanting to use that lyric as a title for a fic like this for ages im so thrilled it's finally getting out there lol #also i have never written so much drunk conversation before. hope it felt natural-ish. #also also had to make up a patronymic for oleg. felt weird to only call him by his first name but that's all we get in canon ough #back to the title real quick tho #idk i just am obsessed with that lyric and how it relates to them and this idea of like your country not giving a shit about you #and what do you do with that? maybe you say fuck it i love my country even if it doesn't love me back or maybe you say i don't care but #maybe really you still do. or maybe you don't care about it at all. but then what does that mean for you in terms of home? #(it means it's people.) #yeah. sorry. many thoughts. #woah editing tags for the first time. forgot that was a thing you could do on desktop. #ok bye for now love uuuuu

[returntosaturn271995]

Excerpts From Kasher In The Rye: The True Tale of a White Boy from Oakland Who Became a Drug Addict, Criminal, Mental Patient, and Then Turned 16

“As you go back through the creaky secret rooms of your memory, you find places damaged by time and neglect.”

“t gave me a private thrill to know that I wasn’t the only piece of damaged machinery out there.”

“My mom told me stories of how scared she was, of how he threw her around, but to be honest, I never believed her. It wasn’t until years later, when I started throwing her around myself, that I thought there might be something to the story”

“I found a wall calendar in a pile of his stuff as my family and I did that sick divvying of the loot that happens when someone dies”

“My mother is a third-generation divorcée”

“addicted to being right” (What makes people need it?)

“To this day I cannot think of psychoanalysis without picturing turtlenecks.”

“What bullshit. I wasn’t too angry. I should have killed him for saying so.”

“This was my chance to ruin everything. I loved doing that.”

“I was angry, of course I was. I also worshiped him a bit, of course I did.”

“I slowly started sharpening my tongue on the whetstone of Oakland Public Schools. If I couldn’t win all the fights, I’d certainly win all the rounds of verbal sparring. People fucked with me so I learned how to fuck right back. I started to hone the questionable skill set of the class clown. In short, I became an asshole.”

“ I transitioned smoothly between angry out-of-control kid into frightened out-of-control kid”

“I could tell questions were out of the question.”

“People called me the Gandhi of the playground. Wait, no they didn’t, they called me white bitch”

“The world looked like my underdeveloped oyster.”

“The victim of frequent, severe, man-sized beatings at the hands of his father, eventually his personality fractured into so many pieces that he just picked them up and shaped them into whatever fit the situation best”

“I fucking remember that—believe me, you would, too.”

“ They tell you that you feel loopy and disoriented, but no one tells you that it crawls through your skin, filling in every place of deficit, every gaping crack where your humanity didn’t fuse.”

“You know how parties are supposed to be fun? Now imagine the opposite of that.”

“My father took himself so seriously because no one else did.”

“St. Ides, the patron saint of cirrhosis”

“Our circle of normalcy included four of the seven layers of Hell”

“DJ always became somewhat more articulate when he was finding a way to call me fat. The Lakota Sioux called me “Swims with T-Shirt”. 

“DJ, perhaps too dumb to be afraid, broke the silence, turning to me and saying, “Fats, you at the end of the line. You’ll slow us down.” Fats complied”

“I firmly believe that everyone should get punched in the face at least once in their life. It builds character. Getting your ass kicked teaches you that your body isn’t a glass menagerie figurine that could shatter at any trauma. You gotta get lumped up sometimes. Then heal and know you are all right.”

“He laughed like the universe.”

Urban psychedelia

“Her eyebrow twitched and I could feel her set her clinical phasers to kill mode and gear up”

“She grinned and I wanted to rip her face off with my mind.”

“a first-class sociopath.” First-class. I guess if you’re going to be evil, best to do it in style.”

“the topical anesthetic I’d been dabbing at my life was starting to wear off.”

“There was something I found so phenomenally satisfying about the process of cracking a therapist’s professional armor.”

“I’d knock “shave and a haircut,” and he’d answer back, “two bits.” I guess we did that just to let each other know that someone else was there who understood. One night I knocked and no one answered. Nate was gone. He’d been released. That night, I cried myself to sleep, hyperventilating, terrified, and I really didn’t know why.”

“My grandfather, Dick the Dick, had been an English professor at a local community college. Lecturing on such topics as “Spousal Abuse: How to Do It!”

“The Seneca Center for the Severely Emotionally Disturbed Youngster”

“I’ll tell you, there is nothing quite so distracting to a lecture on the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria as the low, deep thudding of a severely emotionally disturbed youngster’s head repeatedly slamming against an inadequately padded cell door.”

“Fuck it is the great battle cry of the drug addict.”

“I stole like an animal. Oh wait, animals don’t steal”

“My mom starts screaming at me, “You’re high! What are you on?!? What are you on?!?” Which is like the worst thing ever to scream at a dude who’s freaking out because he’s high.”

“The moment you sink to a new low is the same moment that your conscience becomes compromised to the point that it won’t rebel against the indignity you are putting it through.”

“Life was the wound. Life seared and stung. The world stung. I was born a mess of paper cuts, the world was a pool of lemon juice I’d been shot into. So I found drugs, I found a painkiller that made me able to ignore the wound. I could walk upright. I could go forward. I could navigate the acidic reality. Of course, if you are wounded, and you find a medicine that makes you numb, you don’t correct for the wound.”

“There came a point where I was all wound. I couldn’t see where I stopped and where the wound began”

“The great irony of the addict is that the thing he takes, which is the only thing that has ever made life feel good, stops working long before he considers the possibility of life without it. That first day I’d gotten high, I’d promised myself a life where I’d never stop. I never wanted to not feel that way again. The fact that I hadn’t felt that good in years hardly registered with me.”

“I was going to save him. I never considered he wouldn’t let me. Or that it wasn’t my business to.”

[letsgivethisonemoreshot]

Salvation

Summary: You end up at the House of Black. Not exactly sure what you're searching for. But Reverend Malakai is more than willing to help you find it.

Word Count: 2,127

Warnings: Implied sexual content (sort of), some language

Inspired by @omg-im-such-a-masochist Her Malakai series helped me bring Reverend Malakai to life.

I looked at the flyer that I held in my hand, and back to the building in front of me. This was the right address. And to my surprise it actually looked like a small church. Being handed a flyer while walking on the Vegas strip, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Only select people were given them, so my first thought was this is really some kind of strip club. But the guy who handed it to me was kind of rough looking and creepy, so the thought crossed my mind maybe it’s some kind of weirdo freak attraction. That would make total sense. However, I was far from the strip now. On the edge of Las Vegas entirely. And this little building looked just as advertised, a place of worship. Though not really what I expected, it might be just what I needed at the moment honestly. I folded up the paper and shoved it back into my pocket before walking towards the white weathered building. I took a deep breath before opening the door still not fully sure of what to expect when I went inside.

I was more surprised than I thought I’d be when I opened the door and light shown into a large room with pews on either side. Not many, only six per side separated by an aisle with a worn red rug. This legitimately was a place of worship. I’ll be damned. Or maybe not and that’s why I’m here. I don’t know. It looked just like any place I had seen in my childhood at first, but the longer I looked, I noticed some things that were out of place. At the end of the aisle there was an altar. But instead of a crucifix or a statue of a saint like I had usually seen, there was something else mounted on the wall. An animal skull with big horns. Maybe the pastor was a hunter? Or they did some weird animal sacrifices? I walked along the building and noticed a plaque posted along the walls. At first glance I thought it’s probably the ten commandments or something. Because most churches have something like that. But as I started reading, they were very different than anything I’d seen in any bible.

I accept that human nature is violent, and therefore I accept violence as a part of who I am and I will not fight that.

My past has shaped and guided me; it is not a crutch. But an arrow.

I will nurture the teaching that I obtain through the house and even when they result in in suffering, I will be grateful. As the biggest teacher is agony.

I place nothing and no one before the house.

The house always wins.

Okay, so now I’m more confused. Was this some kind of underground casino or fight club? Do I even want to find out or should I just get out of here before I’m pulled into something else that I can’t get myself out of?

“Welcome my child,” I voice behind me spoke.

I turned around to see a man standing behind me. He was in all black clothing with a jacket like robe. He was dressed as what you’d expect a pastor to be in for the most part, but the rest of his look didn’t match what I was used to. This wasn’t the nice clean cut looking guy you see on TV shows. He had a beard which not only obliterated the clean-cut aspect, but there was a piercing in his lip which I had never seen any other pastor or father had before. His hair was long, but shaved on the sides. It was slicked back so it was nicely placed, but still off-putting. I could see the tattoos on his hands and neck. However nothing stuck out quite as much as his eyes. One was a greenish blue, rather nice actually. But the other was stark white. The smile he was giving me appeared to be kind, but it sent a chill down my spine.

“Reverend Malakai at your service. Welcome to the house of Black.”

“House of…what is this place?”

“It is a place or worship my dear. A place of to absolve yourself of your sins. To better yourself. To better the world.”

“So, this really is a church?” I asked arching an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “Of course, my dear. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know what to think/”

“Then why are you here?”

“Someone handed me a flyer the other day. And I was just curious I guess.” I shrugged.

“Then you were meant to be here.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been inside a church in ten years. And I don’t even know what religion this is. I don’t know if I belong here.”

“All are welcome into the House of Black my dear.” I cocked my head slightly as he spoke. “I am more about helping people fix themselves from the inside out. Make them feel better as people, and help make the world out there a better place.”

The words should have been calming, and in some way they were, but they were also equally as chilling. “I’m still not sure I belong here,” I stammered.

“If you found your way here, you’re meant to be here. But if you like, you could always come back when the rest of the congregation is here and feel it out for yourself,” He offered.

“When, when is that?” I asked still unsure.

“Black Mass is every Friday night at nine pm. Followed by confessional and fellowship in the basement.”

“What is that? Some kind of thing you do with coffee and cookies?”

He chuckled again. “Not exactly. I can show you if you want.”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

Reverend Malakai turned his back to me and walked passed the altar towards the back of the church. Should I have been following him? I don’t know. But I had nothing better to do with my time. And maybe he was right. Maybe I did belong here. Maybe this is what I needed. He opened a door at the back of the church which led to a staircase. He began walking down allowing me to follow him. So, this could be the real thing. He wasn’t some creep shoving me into a basement. He was going first allowing me to turn and leave at any time if I wished. I should probably stop watching so many Netflix shows and being suspicious of everything around me. Not everything in the world is bad, no matter how it seemed. Today could be proof of that.

Reverend Malakai reached the end of the steps and I saw him walk off to the side allowing me room for when I got there. I expected to see some shitty fluorescent lighting in a room with a few tables covered by cheap plastic tablecloths. A small coffee/tea station set up in a corner. Maybe some religious relics hung around the walls. When I reached the end of the stairs, my mouth hung open slightly as this was not at all what I expected to see.

The lighting was dim and red. But was quickly switched off and the lighting in the ceiling took over showing off the whole room. This was not the pleasant little church gathering I had seen before. No plastic folding tables. Instead, a large Saint Andrews cross was on display. The only type of bench I saw was something I could only describe as a spanking bench. Along the walls there were various irons clasps at different heights. The other side of the room looked like it had a few stockades, but my eyes stopped at the closet that was open. Moreso at the man that was standing at it cleaning and sanitizing all the various instruments inside. He was taller than Reverend Malakai with a longer darker beard. Also covered in tattoos. He was the same man that handed me the flyer a few days before.

“This is Deacon Brody. He is a tremendous help in the House of Black along with being a faithful friend.” Malakai introduced.

Brody smiled and nodded his head as he continued his cleaning. The cabinet was full of various paddles, whips, chains, what appeared to be dildos. But that couldn’t be right. In a church.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Malakai looked at me as if he was genuinely confused.

“You send this creep around to recruit people to your fake church sex club?” I asked as I pointed at Brody.

“Dear, I think you’ve gotten confused. Brody goes out and finds people he thinks need help. He has an insight on people. If he thinks they could benefit from us, he gives them the information. They, like you, make the decision to seek us out on their own. As for sex club,” He chuckled, “I could see how it looks that way. But I assure you that’s not what this is.”

“Then how else do you explain it?” I exclaimed.

“Simple. These instruments are to help with the redemption and salvation of the greater good.” I looked at him skeptically. “You see my dear, sometimes people have a hard time letting their sins out. They’re shamed. Worried of being judged. But they can not achieve true peace and salvation unless they confess and atone. So here, we help them. Take this beautifully constructed cross here. We tie you to here, physically exposed. It should be easier at that point to expose the thoughts inside your head, no? And if it’s still night, we take one of the beauties Brody is working with over there, and turn it on. Low. Enough that it’ll start to feel good and make you comfortable, but it’s not going to get you to that release you crave. With each admission of sin, we turn it up. The more you get off your chest the closer you get to your own salvation.”

“But, what if they haven’t confessed everything?” I asked, completely glancing over the fact that this is probably morally wrong and almost sure illegal.

“It doesn’t stop once you’ve reached your release. You can keep confessing at your pleasure. Eventually, it could become too much. And if you want it to stop, you just need to absolve yourself of all your sins. Once you’ve told us all of them, it’ll stop.”

“What if they say they’ve confessed it all?”

Malakai smirked. “I told you dear, Brody is able to tell when people need the help. He’ll be able to tell if you’ve really confessed everything there is. And so can I.”

“Does, does this happen right after the mass? Like with other people here?”

“Usually yes.”

“Isn’t that, weird?”

“It’s what is needed. If we have someone strapped to the bench over there, and they’re getting whatever punishment is necessary, having it done in front of others can be humbling. Bring one back to who they really are.”

“And if they actually like being watched?” I questioned.

“Then it’ll bring them closer to their salvation. It’s a win win really.” He answered. “But there are times when a private session happens. I’m not going to turn someone away just because there’s no audience. If someone needs my help, I’ll be here to help them. Take right now for example, you and I are here without anyone else. Other than the Deacon.”

A spine-chilling realization. I’m not sure what would be more unsettling. Being here and watched by others or being here alone with him.

“And everyone is welcome? What if they confess they’re a fucked up rapist or something?”

“My dear, everyone is welcome inside the House of Black. But they may not be welcome out there anymore. If someone like that comes in here, we take care of them. I told you, we try to make the world better for the greater good. So when people leave, they bring what they learn here to others. And spread the word of atonement.”

I knew exactly what Malakai was saying, without him actually saying it. It should have worried me. Scared me. But it actually gave me a sense of comfort. Deep down, the reverend really was trying to rid the world of the bad people. And make others accountable for their actions. No matter what he said, he said it with such conviction I felt like it made sense. It was right. This is what I needed now to recover from my past and start new. Also, part of me was curious to see what other people he helped out.

I turned to look at the Reverend. His multicolored eyes staring into my soul. His Cheshire cat smile. The way he held his hands so only his fingertips were touching. And I felt ever wall I build up inside of me crumble.

“What do you say my dear. Are you ready to tell Reverend Malakai why you’re here?”

#malakai black #malakai black x reader #malakai black fanfiction #malakai black fic #malakai black drabble #malakai black imagine #house of black

[s0ym1lk]

I finished Disco Elysium last night and have come to the conclusion that it is, ironically, about learning how to honor history while also letting it go.

Disco Elysium is set in a world drowning in history. You spend the whole time walking through a bombed-out city, exploring walls where people were lined up and shot, bunkers filled with propaganda, and monuments that were put up and torn down and put up again. The layers upon layers of history that you dig through in every encounter just overwhelms you.

Harry Du Bois is likewise drowning in his own personal history. When you start the game, you literally wake up in the 'ruins' of Harry's own personal country - the room he'd wrecked on his multi-day bender prior to starting the game. He clings to an outdated music style and an outdated celebrity that he models himself after. He worships his ex so much that his brain turns her into a god.

It's no surprise that the most joyful parts of the game are ones in which history is erased or made irrelevant. Harry's relationship with Kim, for example, has no history to it at all. While Kim knows that Harry is a self-destructive asshole, based on the aftermath of Harry's bender that he's able to witness, Kim also begins his relationship with Harry from a point where he's fundamentally a different person, who can and does make different choices than old Harry would havea. Every time Harry's past comes up, Kim is able to relate to him in a different and more positive way, simply because the old Harry and the new Harry are different people. Contrast this with Harry's interactions with his old partner Jean. Those interactions are really depressing, because they're so one-sided - Jean is left to shoulder all of the pain Harry caused to him, but when he tries to lash out, Harry doesn't understand. For example, when Jean tries to pull a mean prank by dressing up as the reporter Harry drove away, the joke goes completely over Harry's head, because Harry doesn't remember his past OR his old partner. Jean is stuck in a cycle of trauma and abuse that he's trying to perpetuate with his actions. Harry literally can't remember enough about himself to be a part of that anymore. That's why his relationship with Kim works so well in comparison - he can leave his past behind and become a better person who has healthier relationships.

Another place you see this quite well is in the storyline for the dance club at the church. The church itself reeks of history, and not in a good way. It's abandoned, worn-out, broken, and it has a giant stained-glass window of a woman who blanketed Elysium in terrible history and destroyed it, then convinced everyone that she was a saint. The history in that stained glass literally towers over you and forces you to cower beneath it. When you help the teens turn the church into a dance club, you disrupt all that. The power and sanctity of the church's history doesn't totally disappear, because the church is still there, but it fades into the background as it's overtaken by a new history. That new history extends to everyone present. It covers the teens, all of whom are either running from a bad past or leaving the people they were behind(you'll notice Disco Elysium has a lot of characters who have become different people than they used to be). It covers Harry, who has struggled to let go of the cool person he was in the days of disco, but ends up not just writing the new anodic music but busting a move to it. It covers Soona the programmer, who's trying to essentially come to terms with her history at Fortress Accident and move on from it. It's a really powerful image, to find the seed of the world's destruction in the church and to be concerned about that, but to then turn it into a bass track and dance to it joyfully anyway. Sure, the end of the world is coming. That kind of sucks. But in this joyful moment, who cares?

Look at Harry's former relationship with Dora. You spend all this time being triggered by things related to her, like chewing gum, the Dolores Dei references, and near the very end of the game finally have a dream where she turns into a god and leaves you. Harry is obviously an obsessive person. He obsesses about Dora and turns her into something larger than life, even though she tells him frankly that she's just a regular woman. Harry tries to cling to that history by getting her back. He gives her figurines that he remembered she would like. He tells her he's a better person and that they can make it work. He can try to kiss her. He can beg her not to go. She leaves anyway. Despite Harry's desperation, you can tell as the player that this is an unhealthy relationship, and that it's good that Dora left him. You can also see how her leaving triggered Harry's descent into brokenness, and how he never truly recovered from it because he couldn't let go. I don't think it's a coincidence that Harry only manages to face this history after he loses his memory. Some of that past had to be scraped away before he could face the truth and overcome it.

Finally, the reveal of the killer absolutely drives this point home. The whole game follows the traditional detective novel arc, where every detail is a Chekhov's gun leading to one big conclusion. The footprints, the eighth Hardie boy, the drugs, the smoker on the balcony, all of it. And the kicker is that it does all come together - but not in the way you want it to. Because most of the clues are smoke and mirrors. The killer is a sad old man you've never met before hiding on an island, clinging to (you guessed it!) the past. He's drowning in history and can't let go of it. If he feels totally irrelevant to the rest of the game, that's because he is. He doesn't matter! The world let go and moved on without him. The game strongly implies that it was this moving on, and not the old man's politics, that cause him to commit the murder. When he pulled the trigger, he wasn't really thinking about moralintern supremacy or being loyal to the communist revolution. He simply couldn't watch two people steeped in history choose to let it go and find happiness together in moving on. So he killed the merc in a fit of jealousy. Everything else you track down in the game is just people trying to mitigate the consequences of that murder by protecting each other.

History is important, and paying attention to it is how we learn from our mistakes. But what Disco Elysium doesn't want people to do is to get so obsessed with the past that we get stuck in it. You can't live in a bombed-out city or a trashed hotel room forever. You have to let it go.

You may ask, what about the pale, and the end of the world? To me, the game is literally manifesting existential dread as a parallel to the player's own understanding of our world and our limited existence. We know the world will end at some point. Elysium knows it literally - it's being slowly swallowed up bit by bit. We as the players know it metaphorically. We know that we get 100 years, give or take, to live. We know that the planet is slowly being destroyed. In a way, that's our history too. And so the game says to you, it doesn't matter. You should care, but don't get so caught up in caring that you forget to live. Ultimately it doesn't really matter that the world is ending. What matters is something smaller and more personal - that you care about the people around you, that you try to help where you can, and that you dance to anodic dance music while you have the chance.

#disco elysium #disco elysium spoilers #i don't know if people will agree with my conclusions but #if you do #it becomes very funny that so much of the game is then made totally irrelevant #i played SmartCop so my playthrough was all fact dumping about the world #even the politics gameplay becomes irrelevant #which i think fits the conclusion because the politics stuff is so satirical #to me it reads more as a criticism of people who care about that stuff than as a real analysis of it #the game essentially says 'every single one of these political philosophies hurt people #'isn't it time to let them go and start caring about something else?' #okay i could go forever but i'm done

[therealvinelle]

How do you believe Carlisle feels about Esme? How would their break up go? Would he ever cheat on her? I mean like emotionally?

He loves her.

I don’t doubt that his feelings for Esme are genuine, that he respects and cherishes her and wishes to spend his life with her. Esme, too, worships the man.

My complete lack of faith in this ship comes from the fact that they’re together for the wrong reasons and not compatible. 

The Bad Beginning

Carlisle had spent centuries searching for likeminded, he never did. In the end he succumbs and starts creating his own, first Edward and then Esme, and to his joy they both agree to do the diet.

Esme’s transformation was entirely an impulse on his end. He saw this delightful, vivacious young woman he’d known ten years ago lie broken and dying in the morgue, a Jane Doe declared dead, she was all too easy to steal. She was too far gone for him to have time to think it over, and so he went «alright let’s do this. I imagine it seemed rather like God had sent her to that morgue specifically. We learn from Midnight Sun that romance wasn’t on his mind at all (even if it was, that wouldn’t make their marriage more functional) and he expected nothing of her. He bit her because he didn’t want Esme Platt to die.

Esme, of course, wakes up into this new life under surreal, heavenly circumstances. Her child is still dead - but here is the mythic, pedestaled Dr. Cullen, now her savior and more wonderful than ever. To back myself up with the books:

Esme had already been in love with Carlisle—much to his shock—but not through any mystical, magical means. She’d met Carlisle as a girl and, drawn to his gentleness, wit, and otherworldly beauty, formed an attachment that had haunted her for the rest of her human years. Life had not been kind to Esme, and so it was not surprising that this golden memory of a good man had never been supplanted in her heart. After the burning torment of transformation, when she’d awakened to the face of her long-cherished dream, her affections were entirely his. (Midnight Sun, chapter Bloodtype)

Carlisle, on his end, hadn’t had the idea at all until Edward said “Dude, she’s into you, go for it.”

I’d been on hand to caution Carlisle about her unforeseen reaction. He’d expected that she would be shocked by her transformation, traumatized by the pain, horrified by what she’d become, much as I had been. He’d expected to have to explain and apologize, to soothe and to atone. He knew there was a good chance that she would have preferred death, that she would despise him for the choice made without her knowledge or consent. So the fact that she had been immediately prepared to join this life—not really the life, but to join him—was not something he was ready for.

He’d never seen himself as a possible object of romantic love before that moment. It seemed contrary to what he was—a vampire, a monster. The knowledge I gave him changed the way he looked at Esme, the way he looked at himself.

More than that, it was very a powerful thing, choosing to save someone. It was not a decision any sane individual made lightly. (sic)

I’m not entirely void of authorial intent - I get that this was supposed to be romcom where the cute nerdy guy has no idea the girl is interested. 

But, what I see is that after centuries of being alone, never finding anybody who shared his values, Carlisle finally has these two people who share his ideals, the only two in the world. He’s had countless friends, but it never worked out because of that damn diet. But, now he has these two people, and one of them is a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman who’s in love with him.

I imagine falling for Esme was easy. It was just so perfect, simply by being Carlisle Cullen he could make her happier than any other man, and given their shared diet, he wanted her by his side always, just as he did Edward. And this was it for him, really, to Carlisle Cullen Esme might as well be the only woman in the world because she’s the only one who'll share his lifestyle. He also felt responsible for her.

I don’t at all doubt their sincerity or affection for one another.

However, they did not fall for each other for each other’s sakes. Esme fell for the ideal since childhood, and Carlisle fell because she was perfect. Stick them in an AU and it won’t happen.

The Slippery Slope

Where they run into trouble is firstly that Esme doesn’t share these ideals, nor value human life for its own sake. Now, I’m not asking her to be a saint - but over the course of these books we had some lapses that I find pretty damning. 

She wanted Edward back in Forks, when this would almost certainly mean the death of Bella Swan, simply because to Esme having Edward nearby > a person’s life. This wasn’t the case for Carlisle, he made it extremely clear he wanted Edward to leave.

During the “Kill Bella?” vote, she was in favor of whatever meant Edward would stay.

Carlisle, having failed to get anywhere with talking sense into Edward, sends him home to his mother for an intervention. What happens next is that Esme gives Edward her blessing to eat the delicious girl if he wants to. Now, we can’t know specifically the talk Carlisle and Esme had before this, but I can’t imagine it was this. Also, damn, what a miscommunication.

Esme simply doesn’t have a problem with the deaths of individual humans, and she will put her loved ones above all other things, even if it’s a minor inconvenience. Keeping Bella alive only becomes her priority after Edward makes it clear he wants this.

Now, Carlisle’s standards have been worn down over the centuries, he just wants his family to try not to eat people on purpose, that’s how low the bar is. Tragically for his marriage, Esme is stumbling over said bar.

The further trouble they run into is that I don’t think they’re very compatible people.

Esme means well, but she’s peculiar, to put it extremely nicely. Her ambition in life is to LARP the human life, right down to being a master chef of something her species can’t eat, which could be sweet if she did other things. She doesn’t, the closest she gets is designing homes for her family. There’s being single-minded, and then there’s Esme, who appears to have honed herself into someone who exists only to be the housewife.

This leads to bizarre behavior - for instance in Midnight Sun when Edward has realized he’s in love, he sits around laughing to himself like a lunatic while playing the piano. Something happens with Rosalie, who runs out of the house in humiliation. Esme, responding to all this, gives her infamous “the best and brightest of us all” pep talk.

It’s just such a weird scene, even accounting for the inhumanity of Twilight vampires this is weird.

Mostly, thought, it is Esme’s interests and desires in life that I find so at odds with Carlisle’s. She wants to be an improved human, living the shinier, better, life without actually embracing the inhumanity of vampirism, while Carlisle is doing the human thing because he wants to be a doctor and save lives. Before that, he was travelling the world, living with normal vampires, using his eternity to study and pursue meaning in life. Now, they end up in the same place, with similar goals - wanting to blend in with humans - but the motivation is the polar opposite.

Which in turn means that as the world turns and their lives inevitably change, the way they live will have to change. This will spell trouble.

There’s also me having a strong suspicion these two don’t have much of a physical relationship, if any. Meyer specifically referred to their relationship as spiritual, and that fits the vibe we get from them in the books. Quite notably, Rosalie and Emmett were impossible to be around when they were newlyweds, while Carlisle and Esme weren’t a problem at all. 

Not to mention what Esme longed for all those years was very much an ideal of a man, which to me doesn’t immediately point to a very physical attraction.

The Penultimate Peril

Would he cheat on her, you ask. Answer is yes, they’re both cheating emotionally with Edward. No. 

He’s with her because he wants to be, and feels responsible for her. More, developing the kinds of feelings necessary for an emotional affair isn’t really on the table for him, since everyone else in the world is either a. one of his kids or the Denali, b. an unrepentant man-eating demon. So, unless Tanya’s feeling frisky, Carlisle doesn’t have anybody to cheat with.

(I’m here defining an emotional affair, which as I understand it is a bit hard to define, as a romantic, but non-physical entanglement. The cheating party has to know their partner wouldn’t be cool with it for it to count in my eyes.)

As for physically cheating on her, nope. God no, not ever. Unless something really convoluted like the plot of Blue Moon unfolded, but that’s really more a case of Esme pimping out her husband to her daughter-in-law, so everyone’s to blame here.

The end

I think the breakup can happen in any number of ways, but I think either way it will be sudden. 

These two aren’t going to go “you know, I think we’ve grown apart” because Esme would never acknowledge that nevermind walk up to Carlisle and say it, and if Carlisle realized things aren’t working he’d still want to stick it out for her sake.

I think it’ll be sudden, it’ll happen as the immovable object that is them is hit by an unstoppable force. One will go someplace the other can’t follow. Maybe when the Cullen coven splits down the middle, and they’re on each their own side of the chasm, or maybe some other cause entirely.

It’ll devastate them both, but given the people these two are, I think it’s inevitable.

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle/esme #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #hope you all think the header theme was as funny as i did #a series of unfortunate events aka- #Anonymous #ask

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Opinions on Molly Weasley????

You know, I actually don’t think I’m too far out in left field for her. Well, I might be strange in that we tend to see very polarized opinions on Molly: either she’s the greatest mother who ever mothered and the Weasleys are a perfect family or she’s an overbearing manipulative matriarch who’s secretly poisoning Harry with love potions into marrying her daughter.

Sort of like Ron, I wouldn’t say Molly’s a saint, but she’s also not one of the truly nasty characters (she’s not eating babies or feeding Harry love potions or anything). That said, she is far from the warm, generous, matriarch JKR presented her as.

First, she is overbearing . There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s just how her and Arthur’s dynamic works, but at the same time if Arthur ever did have a spine it’s been completely conditioned out of him. It’s also very telling that Ron marries the overbearing equivalent of his mother in Hermione Granger. I suspect Ron’s spine has also completely disappeared by the time we hit that delightful epilogue from canon. 

As for the Weasleys, JKR sets them up to be the perfect family we can possibly (realistically) imagine. It’s huge, they all love each other and are fiercely loyal (except for Percy, the swine, we’ll get into this), they give Harry a sweater, it’s the family he wants so desperately that he marries the only available and socially acceptable option: Ginny (I could go on a rant about this for days, but guys, Harry shows way more interest in men than in women and I think 90% or Ginny’s attraction to him is that she’s a Weasley). 

That said the Weasleys, and Molly herself, have major issues. 

One, the money. I think JKR makes them poor to give contrast to the Malfoys. The Weasleys are nobly impoverished, they’re a wizarding family but understand more important things than money. The snobby Malfoys on the other hand have peacocks in their yard because rich people are inherently evil.  

That said, most of this is because Arthur and Molly completely mismanage finances. There’s nothing wrong with having seven children, but the Weasleys clearly cannot afford to have seven children. More, we see them spend money instantly when they have it. Ron is left without a wand for a year but the second Arthur wins the lottery, rather than save the money, WE’RE GOING TO EGYPT. Even the year before, money that might have gone towards emergency situations such as: my son’s wand broke is used to take Molly, Arthur, and Ginny to Egypt. They buy tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. The Weasleys don’t have that kind of money and then they go and are extremely bitter that Lucius Malfoy does have that kind of money. Yes, I’m sure the Malfoys were always wealthier than the Weasleys, but at the same time the Weasleys are the type to buy iphones for their kids when they’re on food stamps.

I’m getting a little distracted though, back to Molly.

I’d say Molly is far more traditional than JKR ever intended for her to be. She’s progressive enough that she supports muggleborns (they should get to go to Hogwarts and be very appreciative) but she also doesn’t think they should get too far ahead of themselves (we’ll get into this). She’s a raging misogynist (we’ll get into this). She is extremely judgmental and can flip on you at the drop of a hat with the barest of evidence. She never really does anything about Harry’s situation despite having very good evidence of its realities. And despite her family’s extreme poverty, even when all the kids are in boarding school, we don’t see her try to take up a job or even take up some etsy equivalent where she can enchant shit and sell it. There’s nothing wrong with staying home to raise the kids, but at the same time, I think for Molly it’s because “this is what the wife does”. 

Right, well, that actually was a lot.

Let’s start with Harry. Molly is witness to seven years of Harry’s childhood abuse and seems to take no action regarding it. Now, Fred and George are dubious sources, so them telling Molly that “hey Harry’s house had bars on his window” might not be taken seriously. Harry also is generally very private and embarrassed about his home life. That said, there are many many signs, and while Hermione practically lives at the Burrow ever since third or fourth year Harry has to spend every single summer with the Dursleys even before Voldemort’s return.

Granted, I have gone over that I don’t think child protection or even a good understanding of abuse exists in the Wizarding World. I think to wizards you’re stuck with the family you’ve got, and if your pureblood grandfather is raping you then it sucks to be you. That said, the Weasleys are such a central part of Harry’s life that I would expected them to do *something*. Instead it’s like Harry’s situation is... vaguely acknowledged but mostly ignored. 

Now, the Weasleys don’t have the money for an eighth kid (though Harry’s so absurdly wealthy he could help lighten the load were he to live with them) so I don’t hold this too much against them but... I would hope that a truly good family would have noticed Harry’s situation and tried to do something about it.

Right, the judgement part. The Weasley family’s unofficial disowning of Percy was horrible. This is going to be controversial, but Percy actually made some excellent points. Dumbledore and Harry’s story about Voldemort’s resurrection does sound nuts, the guy’s been dead ten years, he isn’t Jesus. More, it comes from Harry Potter who is young, traumatized, and has generally been erratic throughout the time Percy’s known him. And parts of what he says aren’t wrong. Why do the Weasley’s worship Dumbledore and listen to everything this man says? Dumbledore does do things like recruit child soldiers from the boarding school he runs. Dumbledore’s a shady guy. 

Mostly though, while Percy not believing Harry and Dumbledore is bad, I always got the feeling that a lot of the resentment and disowning was that Percy dared to do better than his father. Percy rises through the ranks quickly in the ministry, he’s extremely competent, where his father has been stuck in the same dead end joke of a job for years. Arthur even accuses Percy of having his position because Fudge is spying on Arthur. Which... no, Arthur, no. And the family just loathes him for it. They loathe him and it’s terrible. 

And I’m sure Dumbledore meanwhile is just dying that they’ve forced Percy out when Percy was in the perfect position to be a spy in the Ministry. I can just picture him drinking with Snape after Molly’s told him, tears in her eyes, that Percy is cut off because he betrayed the family, wondering what kind of morons are in the Order. 

Beyond Percy there’s what Molly does to Hermione in 4th year. And good god, this is also where the misogyny comes in. Rita Skeeter writes that Hermione, a fourteen-year-old girl, is a harlot and Molly not only a) believes it but b) becomes extremely judgmental of Hermione and essentially calls her a jezebel to her face. Molly, what the hell? Hermione’s life has been ruined by the tabloids for something that didn’t happen, and even if it did is nothing she should be slandered for, and Molly’s going “THAT WHORE”.

This is after Skeeter had slandered Arthur just that summer over the Quidditch World Cup incident and Molly hadn’t believed any of it for a second. So, either Hermione’s being a girl or her being an uppity muggleborn or both somehow makes this believable...

Molly’s very similar with Fleur. She doesn’t approve and I always got the feeling it was in part because Fleur is not the traditional sort of woman she’d want Bill to marry (Fleur is a working woman at Gringotts and more is elegant refined beauty rather than a girl next door who’d make a great housewife) but also because Fleur’s foreign. Bill should marry a nice, English, woman and instead he ends up with this French quarter-veela. 

Had Harry done anything to offend Molly, or even if Dumbledore had simply gone “You know what, Harry’s awful, we hate him”, then I would expect he too would have been completely cut off and thrown back into the gutter where he belongs.

So, Molly sucks and is not nearly as progressive as JKR intended, but is she feeding Harry love potions to marry Ginny and make the family wealthy? No.

#ask #anon #harry potter #headcanons #molly weasley #molly's progressive up until one of her sons marries a scarlet woman

[alengmae]

Rabble Drabble V: Advances

Colin fights off the advances of his wife in a drunken stupor.

A/N: Just so people know that I’m not completely heartless from the last chapter of my other fic. Here’s pure fluff. Enjoy!

Penelope glanced at the grandfather clock near the fireplace. It’s getting late and Colin was still not home. She wasn’t bothered much. It was a guy’s night out, after all. Whenever Michael, Benedict and Philip were in town, all the Bridgerton males made time to meet up and hang out. This guy’s night happened once every other month. 

She’s not worried, knowing full well that Anthony would be responsible for the rowdy boys. But tonight, Colin had been unusually late coming home. She could not help but entertain her growing unease. She did just get married to him. She would be really pissed if Colin ended up making her a widow so soon. 

She was about to call Kate when the doorbell rang. She answered the door promptly and was greeted at the sight of a disheveled Anthony keeping a drunk Colin upright. By the look of things, if she were to have taken her time from opening the door, Colin would have been sprawled on the ground, most likely pulling his brother with him. 

“Hey, Pen,” Anthony managed to say between grunts. He pulled on his brother, who was swaying dangerously on the spot. In his van behind him, Michael pressed on the car horn obnoxiously, to Anthony’s consternation. Benedict’s hoot and Philips yelp was very audible in her quiet neighborhood. Penelope would have to bake cookies again to appease her neighbors. 

“Fun night?” she asked with a laugh. She stepped up, anchoring her husband’s left arm over her shoulder. Colin, even in his drunken stupor, turned and bowed to the men in the car. He almost face-planted on the ground, if not for Anthony’s fast reflexes. 

The prominent vein on the left side of Anthony’s forehead was ticking dangerously. Penelope hid her giggle since he might go off any second. 

“Annoying gits,” Anthony mumbled as he shoved his brother into the house and into Penelope’s arms. “Always testing my patience. You got him, Pen?”

She nodded after hearing the car horn again. As much as she wanted him to help her with Colin upstairs, he needed to bring them home before her neighbors complained. She guided her husband to the stairs after saying, “Thanks Anthony. Close the door, will you?”

Her brother-in-law assented but added before rushing out, “Brunch tomorrow at mother’s, don’t forget!” 

“Got it!” she shouted as he shut the door close. “Alright, my love. Work with me,” she pleaded when she tried to get Colin up the stairs without any accidents. 

Colin shook his head, as if willing the booze away from his system, and took a good look at the stairs ahead of him. Then, he crouched down to all fours and slowly climbed up. Penelope was too flabbergasted to stop him. 

“Not what I have in mind, but I’ll take it,” she muttered as she followed him, making sure he did not make a misstep. 

He continued on until he reached the top. He stood up abruptly, with her guidance and made for their bedroom. Upon reaching the bed, Penelope stopped her husband from flopping onto the bed so she could take off his jacket, which reeked of booze. But before she could pull his sleeve off, he cut her off. 

“Excuse me, madam,” he slurred insistently, “I am a kept man. I do not care for your advances as I am very happily married.” 

Well, if that didn’t bring a bright smile on her face, she didn’t know what will. But she still needed to take off his jacket. “I just need to take off your jacket, love.” 

He acquiesced however, he refrained her from touching him with a light slap of her hand. He took it off easily then crashed head first on the bed.

Penelope was torn between annoyance and affection as she cradled the hand that he slapped away. In the end, she chose to linger on the fierce devotion he showed to her. She was successful in taking off both his shoes. When she was close to getting his socks off, he moved his feet out of reach. 

“No means no, lady,” he almost bellowed. “I’m married.”  

“So you kept saying,” she retorted as she chased his foot to pull on a sock. After a tedious minute, she was able to take it off and the other one too amidst his elaborate footwork dodges. She inhaled loudly, trying to be patient with her drunk husband. At this point, she may be okay with being a widow since she just might kill him herself.   

She sagged right next to him on the bed, her fatigue from the day catching up. She was ready to fall asleep when a scandalized, “Excuse me!”  prevented her from falling asleep. 

She scrunched her face and whispered to Colin, “You are really exhausting all my patience tonight, darling.” 

“I only sleep with my wife,” he insisted again, with a slur. “My Pen is the only one allowed to this,” he said as he gestured to his body. To his defense, it was a pretty tantalizing body. But she could not help but wonder if his brain was rendered useless with the alcohol in his tantalizing body.  

“Colin, just sleep, okay? I’m tired. You’re tired. Just go to sleep,” she appealed to him with wry fondness. She pulled on the comforter and tried to cover both their bodies with it. Unfortunately for her, he refused to cooperate. 

He fought off the comforter as if it were armed enemies, both his hands in a karate chop stance. 

“Colin! Just...oh my god,” she muttered under her breath. She’s never going to let him come back drunk ever again if he was going to be such a pain like this.

“My beautiful wife will have words with you, lady. Stop trying to molest me.” 

She wanted to strangle him but his compliment gave her pause. “Your wife must have the patience of a saint.” 

“My wife has everything,” he snootily replied. “She’s so witty and beautiful and insanely hot and funny and has the best rack,” his hands cupped the air daintily and she glowered at him, “and she’s sexy and she’s a great kisser and best of all, she’s mine.”

She wanted to wince. She honestly really hoped he didn’t talk about her breasts in public like this. But she would be lying if she denied being touched by his raining flattery. The muscles on her face tugged into a wide grin. 

“She should be lucky to have you. You’re not so bad yourself.” 

“I know I’m a catch,” her smile fell off, replaced by exasperation, “but my wife is leagues ahead of me. She’s the best. She’s absolutely, astoundingly gorgeous and that’s the least interesting thing about her. I’m awed that she chose me out of all the fools around her.” 

Well, shit. His words tugged into her heart, churning her insides into mush. Even the way he smiled dreamily as he went on and one about her sent her into a giddy rush. 

He continued, “I worship the ground she walked on. When she said she loved me, it felt like my life, only then, really started. Everything else was background noise. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing her how important she is to me. She is my dream fulfilled.”

Aww. This was better than his wedding vows. Her eyes misted as she tried to hide how touched she was at his drunken declaration. Penelope had to admit that drunk Colin was her favorite version of her husband. 

She leaned closer to him to give him a fervent kiss when his palm connected with her face. It wasn’t a slap, more of a forceful push. His outstretched hand pushed her away from his side. 

“God, lady, I just told you I’m married. I’m going to have to call the cops.”    

All of the goodwill she harbored from his flowery speech about her vanished. How could he use her face to push her entire body away from him? He’s definitely going to pay for this tomorrow. 

She left the bed at his unrelenting pushes. She grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and a bottle of aspirin. When she came back to their bedroom, he was fast asleep on his side of the bed. She placed the glass and medicine on his bed stand. 

He definitely was a handful but he was hers. 

She laid down on the bed, careful not to wake him from his slumber. It did not take her long to pass out in a dreamless sleep. 

She awoke to the glare of sunlight peeking from the drawn curtains a couple of hours later. She tried to rub her eyes but her arm was encumbered by her husband’s body. Colin, in his sleep, latched on to her side, curling his body flush to hers. She remembered his sweet words last night and grinned affectionately. However, she also remembered the way his hand connected with her face when she only wanted to give him a kiss. 

“Good morning!” she loudly exclaimed. 

Colin winced and cradled his head with a whine, “Why?”

His obvious pain was enough to balm the annoyance from last night. She ruffled his hair. “There’s water and aspirin there for you.” 

He mumbled his thanks and burrowed even deeper into the crook of her neck. She giggled when he peppered tiny kisses on her neck. 

“We have to be at your mom’s in a few hours. Think you’re up to it?”

He grunted a response, tightening his embrace on her. She reminded him of his mother’s special waffles and he seemed to be more amenable after. 

“I love you,” she told him, after a beat of silence, as she caressed his head.  

He peered at her. “I love you too. If I am to be greeted with this every morning after I get drunk, I’m drinking more often,” he answered with a joke. 

“Please don’t,” she asked with a glare.   

His face scrunched in confusion and all Penelope did was give her befuddled husband a sound kiss. 

#bridgerton #polin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope

[mhevarujta]

The Darkling in Rule of Wolves [SPOILERS]

I have seen very different opinions about The Darkling’s arc in Rule of Wolves.

Many haters think that his sacrifice did not make sense for his character, especially since he did not repent.

Many of those who stan a romanticized version of the character have complained that his complexity was taken away and that he was vilified excessively.

So here I am, feeling the need to explain why I believe that he is still a very complex character and that Leigh has written him in a way that further what she’s already established for the character in a beautiful way that we rarely see in the genre.

In fact, I think that Leigh has no anti-Darkling agenda. She wrote him as a villain that is a series of contradictions and who has a great arc of existential crisis; an arc which leads to him fixing some of the damage he’s caused.

Most villains in YA either keep to their villainous goal, or are centuries-old men who, after being set in his ways for so long, conveniently have a rushed redemption arc and a change of beliefs that doesn’t make sense and feels like they have had a change of personality. Leigh managed to tiptoe between the two.

Some Themes That Make It Into  The Darkling’s arc in Rule of Wolves:

 POWER & SAVING THE GRISHA:

As always, we saw that Alina has an influence on him. He allowed himself to be more vulnerable with her because he saw her as his equal. But that influence is about the need of having his power and the life he endured be understood rather than romance. Both of them have experienced the greed that comes with THAT kind of power, but they always had an ideological conflict. Alina did not draw the line on personal sacrifice but she was always trying to help the people. She would sacrifice her life and her powers. He wouldn’t… Or would he?

In Rule of Wolves, Alina poses a question that he thinks he has an answer to: Why does he have to be the savior? What about everything other people have done for his country? His answer is ‘power’. If HE who is special, who has all that power, all that experience, then who is going to make a difference?

There is a contradiction here. This is a man who genuinely cares, but whose idealism is an echo of the caring person he’d once been. It has become hollow.

 The Darkling, by the age of 13, had changed hundreds of names and moved constantly, had been hunted by his own people, betrayed by people he’d tried to help and had to resort to self-harm in order to survive. That was when he promised he’d create a sanctuary for The Grisha.

And then he lived centuries of wars, betrayals and setbacks. He gave and gave until he had enough and went completely off the rails. His people were his aim, but he became so desperate that he crossed every line. He turned from a mentor to a puppetmaster. His was so fixated on the idea of ending the wars that he could not see that he was employing the same methods he was trying to end.

The more he lived, the more he left pieces of himself behind because he could not go on otherwise.

He thought that by ruling, by becoming king and weaponizing the fold, he would end all wars. He still wants to be the savior.

  BEING UNAPOLOGETIC & ‘NOTHING LEFT’

 Even when he dies, Aleksander does not repent, but at the same time he is very much aware of having committed atrocities and even during his last moment with Alina he does not apologize.

After all, that’s what he learned since he was a child. Baghra was his teacher and he was an apt pupil:

 His awareness of having crossed the line is obvious by the fact that he did not want a grave. He knew it’d be desecrated. Even though he was not sorry for trying, he knew that without having achieved his end nothing could begin to excuse what he’d done. He knew how hated he was.

There would be nothing left of him; no physical remnants, no legacy, and only one person to mourn the person he could have been. He leaves the world with this knowledge.

His true name is erased.

Being in his head, we see that, upon his return he is thinking of himself as Aleksander while using a different name (Yuri’s) once more. He is still hiding, and as long as he has to hide, the world is not as he wants it. As long as he’s hiding he can’t leave a legacy behind.

So based on what we know of his actions and of the way he’s loves, I think that

- the Darkling wanting to see Alina and to be understood by her, but being resistant to her morality and crossing her one more time to take his powers back,

- being accustomed to hardship and to biding his time,

-underestimating Nikolai and the triumvirate and seeing them as weak individuals instead of considering them as a strong unit,

- using Yuri’s name but still thinking of himself as Aleksander,

-taking advantage of the Starless to make his dramatic return while saving Ravka and gaining the people’s gratitude and worship,

-wanting Ravka to win and aiding Nikolai when because HE couldn’t win single-handedly and he didn’t want to lose but still thinking that, since the bells had been destroyed, HE was a batter option to lead.

are very much in character.

There are three major things about his arc that readers may consider to be out of character:

a)      The Darkling helping Zoya rise as a queen/

b)      Aleksander choosing to sacrifice himself to stop the blight.

c)       The public revelation of his name.

So let’s examine them one by one.

__________________________________

a)      Aiding the rise of the Dragon Queen.

Aleksander questions both Zoya and Nikolai. He considers them children, one two weak to embrace her powers when she could be among the strongest Grisha who have ever lived and the other too immature to use his political power for anything more than playing pirate. In fact he thinks they are ‘dangerous to him and to his country’.

 During the last battle Aleksander is forced to consider things that he hadn’t before.

One is the question Alina posed to him. Is HE the only one who can save them? The other can be summed up with Mal’s joke: ‘You’re rusty old man’.

 After he snapped and decided that he must rule and that he has to use the Fold, Aleksander pursued his goal single-mindedly. But war changed around him. People moved from swords, to guns, to bombs, but Aleksander’s power was constant, reliable. And then THIS was and Rasmus’ Hajefetla came. The Darkling thought he could give them victory but he HAD his power and couldn’t use it.

But even when everything seems lost, Nikolai fights and is ready to sacrifice everything. Slowly, the Darkling’s view of Nikolai shifts throughout the book.

He sees how Nikolai cares for all his people. How he was strong enough to embrace the monster and to make sacrifices and he helps him. But even then, after the bells are destroyed, he still thinks that he is the best chance his country has and steps back.

But the second miracle does happen. The Darkling had dismissed Zoya as a girl who couldn’t open her heard and embrace her power, but she opens the door. She saves the day both with her strength and with her mercy. She makes the show of power that The Darkling himself made to do and she exceeds his expectations.

And at that moment, Zoya could have been seen as a monster, a witch, all the things that Grisha had been hated for. So The Darkling chooses to give the push the people need; to be the one to break them out of their shock and push them to the direction that suits Ravka before anyone else does: ‘Sankta Zoya’.

And when he makes a stand in her favor when she gets accepted as a queen:

1) Even though I don’t believe he still thought of Zoya as a pawn at this point, I DO believe that he had realized how showing his allegiance might give him a potential opening to call in a favor if he ever needed it.

2) Helping her makes sense because even he would be able to see that a Grisha who has military, political and religious power and who has immeasurable power that could only grow gives Ravka its best chance.

3) He has the opportunity to further Ravka’s political stability while getting rid of the Apparat, whom he despises both because he betrayed him personally and because he is a rat who keeps endangering the Grisha and even Ravka as a whole.

He used all the influence he had left.

b)      EXISTENTIAL CRISIS AND SELF-SACRIFICE

Throughout Rule of Wolves, The Darkling goes through an existential crisis. He is trying to remain the same, to keep to his old practices, but by the end of the book he understands that the world has changed and he has to change in some way too. He does not have a complete change of heart. People are mostly set in their personality by their adulthood and a tiger easily changing its striped after centuries would be completely unrealistic. Neither are his crimes glossed over. But the reasons he sacrifices himself are woven throughout the story.

-A theme throughout the story is that we started in Shadow And Bone from ‘the age of Grisha power is coming to an end’ and went to ‘the age of Saints is upon us’. What is the main difference between Grisha and Saints? It’s faith. It’s the way the ‘saints’ are accepted and worshipped for their power and sacrifice. The Darkling wants to be loved. He wants for his sacrifices to be recognized.

In a single scene we see both his inability to adjust to the world he finds himself in and his need for his efforts to be recognized. Because he DID give his life for Ravka. He did so, from his perspective, when he was killed during the Civil War, but he also did by not having really had peace or REALLY lived his life since he was a child.

In the main trilogy he was bitter about the Otkazats’ya easily turning on Grisha. He was bitter about how Grisha were treated by the rulers of Ravka. The Grisha had to bow but the Saints are the ones that people bowed to. Faith is the only thing that may allow them to stop hiding. So he wants to be a Saint. He didn’t manage to earn it in battle, so he must find another way.

The Darkling approaches The Starless, but even as he tries to have more rally behind him he is disappointed in his new following. During his first POV chapter he says that he will “teach the world awe”. But it’s made clear that his is not enough for him. His followers BELIEVE but their belief is hollow. They are afraid of who he truly is, they barely believe in everything he stood for. They are awed, easily manageable, but they do not care about the Grisha. They do not care about Ravka the way he does. They do not see him when he’s right in front of them, making him want to scream that he is there, that he exists, and when one glimpses behind Yuri’s mask he sees ‘evil’.

What he wants is devotion because of what he’s tried to do, not blind faith. He feels unseen; faded. Moreover, he still hides while he thought he didn’t have to. Initially he thinks that he can finally choose to be himself and to reclaim his true name: ‘The oldest of them: Aleksander. He had no reason to hide his strangeness anymore. Saints were meant to live forever.’ But he falls into old patterns. He is ‘Yuri’; he is in hiding once more.

-The Darkling DOES NOT LOVE HIS POWER in itself. He loves the strength it gives him, the feeling of being special, but he does not enjoy the darkness, despite embracing the color black or having previously chosen dark rooms for himself.

“He wanted to be out of the darkness, back beneath the watery winter sun.”

“He only wished that it wasn’t winter. He wanted to turn his face

to the sun and feel it warm him. The cold frightened him now. It felt like

death, like the long silence of not being, without sense of time or place, only

the understanding that he must hold on, that someday, there would be an end

to the terrible stillness. He’d been a long time in the dark.”

Even in his previous life, he was mesmerized by the beauty of the world.

And now he has to face THE BLIGHT: A consequence to him coming back, which, based on the fact that it expanded THE MOMENT he used his power to kill one of his followers, is connected to him growing stronger and using his power. This power, which is similar to the Fold, is independent of him and untamed in the world and creates wastelands, ruining the country that he tried to save. In fact, it is compared to a vampire; to a creature that needs blood to be sustained. It destroys all the things that Aleksander dehumanized himself to fight for and all the things he found beautiful in the world.

Even when it doesn’t touch HIM, he doesn’t know why; if it’s because this plague recognizes something in him, or if he’s so ruined that it doesn’t have a taste for him. And both scenarios show an alienation from his power. His feelings of being whole because of his power have being tainted by something he had never experienced before.

And how could he, who represents the lack of stars, the darkness, be valued and not just feared? 

For the Starless Saint to become the people’s salvation the darkness that spreads across the land must be defeated by his own power of darkness, 

In the original trilogy the theme of the Darkling falling into servitude of his own power was touched upon. 

In RoW it was furthered. And Aleksander has made his decision:

Never again a servant; not even to his own power. 

 WITH THE DARKLING’S SACRIFICE:

1)      He saves Ravka and allows back into the world and into the fold all the colors and the light that he used to love about it. But more importantly, At some point he mentions that “human life is worth preserving. But human lives? They come and go like so much chaff, never tipping the scales.” By holding back the Blight he ensures that human life is preserved.

2) His arc of existential crisis is resolved because he finds purpose, which he lacked after seeing that he was not enough to win the war and to create by himself the world he had craved) and saves his country in a way that only HE could, even if that wasn’t ruling. The vision Aleksander, the forgotten boy, had is aided in a way that serves the vanity of The Darkling, the eternal being he became.

3) Leigh brings full circle the theme of balance. “You were meant to be my balance”, he had told Alina. But THAT assumption was SO wrong and presumptuous. It was entitled. But finally he makes a sacrifice to be his own balance and to control what he unleashed. He caused pain and he endures pain. He was responsible for the Fold and for the Blight and he counterbalances the distraction they brought to the land and stops them from threatening Ravka.

_________

c)       ‘MY NAME IS ALEKSANDER MOROZOVA’.

Some say that The Darkling publically revealing his name was out of character; probably because the only revealed it to Alina and did not want others to know it.  

So let’s have a throwback to what we know. 

As ‘The Starless’, the Darkling is the only unnamed saint other than the Saint of the Book, who has no memory. The theme of a name being essential to memory is constant throughout Aleksander’s arc

‘A boy’s name given up; almost forgotten.’

“It’s my own name I’m afraid of forgetting.”

In Ruin and Rising, The Darkling dying nameless serves a purpose. Alina gives him the kindness for not giving people a name to extol. He entrusted it to her and she does not betray that trust.

What I find interesting is that, in The Demon in the Wood, Baghra tells him:

He had given his name to Alina who, in a twisted way, was the closest person to his heart at that point, because he considered it his equal and in his twisted way.

To become a saint, to be worshipped, to save Ravka, to not be forgotten he has to share this piece of his heart; of himself. He has to let people read it. He considered Zoya weak because she was afraid of her heard but she was strong enough to ‘open the door’.

After living the way he did and making the choices he made, his heart can never open the same way as hers did, but this is as close as his character could come to it without Leigh glossing over all he’s done.

#the darkling #aleksander morozova #rule of wolves #row spoilers #shadow and bone #I know that no one will read this #but I just love this book so much #long post for ts #the darkling meta #aleksander morozova meta #row meta #rule of wolves meta

[a-cure-for-writers-block]

#100 Song Lyric Prompts

No one specifically requested, but I wanted to do this so bad! Here we go...

“Will nature make a man of me yet?”- The Smiths, This Charming Man

“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?”- Lynyrd Skynyrd, Free Bird

“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her.”- Hozier, Work Song

“I don’t think that we should be alone together, when we’re in a room you get my eyes, you open your mouth I’m hypnotised”- The Neighbourhood, Single

“She looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me and suddenly the sky is a scissor”- Arctic Monkeys, That’s where you’re wrong

“You think you want to be alone, just wait until you’re crying on the shower floor” “They’ve got a pretty face, but they’ve got a pretty empty head.” “But how the hell do you fall in love, the last time I checked you can’t fall in slow mo”- LANY- The Breakup *There were too many good ones in this song, I couldn’t help myself*

“I know it’s mad, but if I go to hell will you go with me or just leave?” - Panic! At The Disco, Do you know what I'm seeing?

“I don’t know who’s protecting me, but we hit it off”- Drake, Sandra’s Rose

“Do me a favour and break my nose, do me a favour and tell me to go away?”- Arctic monkeys, Do me a favour

“Baby just came back around, said she needs time to explore, said I can’t love her no more”- The Neighbourhood, Baby came home

“Just one mistake, you say you’re not in love no more, but was it really love if you can leave me for something so innocent is this the end?”- LANY, Thick and thin

“You can have Manhattan, I know it’s for the best, I’ll gather up the avenues and leave them on your doorstep. I’ll tiptoe away so you won’t have to say you heard me leave.” “You can have Manhattan, the one we used to share, the one where we were laughing and drunk on just being there. Hang onto the reverie, could you do that for me?”- Sara Bareilles, Manhattan

“You don’t love me, big fucking deal, I’ll never tell you how I feel.” “I'll send my best regards from Hell”- Marina and the Diamonds, Starring Role

“I been writing these songs ‘bout how I can’t be with you. I don’t want to be a monster, but I’ve been here for days, drinking too much now I want you, can’t get you off my brain.”- Henry, Monster, Eng. version

“Change lives, get better, yeah that be the plan” “That’s why you see me winning, yeah, even after I lose”- Jay Park, Ask bout me

“Love is not looking over shoulders, Love is you should trust what I told you” “Love is not struggling to say I love you”- 6LACK, Disconnect

“All these people taking miles when you give them an inch, all these followers but who's gonna follow me until the end?”- Drake, Emotionless

“She’s in the rain, you wanna hurt yourself I’ll stay with you, you wanna make yourself go through that pain, It’s better to be held than holding on,”- The Rose, She’s In The Rain *Absolutely love this one, don’t @ me, I will die for the The Rose**

“Sex by the fire at night”- Bruno Mars, That’s What I Like

“I’ve got the good side of you, sent it out into the blue.”- Troye Sivan, Good Side

“Standing by the window, rain falling, I want to have you full in my embrace and tell you, even when I’m born again and love you, even then, will you be with me?”- KREAM, 선물 Gift *Translated*

“It all passes, Someday, For sure, Certainly”- RM, ft. NELL, everythingoes *Translated*

“Please stay as long as you need, can't promise that things won't be broken, but I swear that I will never leave. Please stay forever with me”- Sleeping With Sirens, Scene One- James Dean & Audrey Hepburn

“When you move, I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be, when you move I could never define all that you are to me”- Hozier, Movement

“Wake up and smell the coffee, is your cup half full or empty?”- Billie Eilish, come out and play

“Am I a bad person? Or am I just in pain?”- DEAN, Sulli, Rad Museum, Dayfly *Translated*

“Kiss me on the lips, a secret just between the two of us, deeply poisoned by the jail of you, I cannot worship anyone but you and I knew the grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway”- BTS, Blood Sweat & Tears *Translated*

“When the sun sets and darkness comes, I only remember your warmth, where the stars wrap around us. I’m going there, I’ll be there”- SEVENTEEN, Highlight *Translated*

“I don't ever wanna feel like anything I do ever had a fucking resonance or meant a thing to you.”- Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes, I Hate You

“You can’t take this away from me, the way I hit the melody, the waves bring clarity, running through me”- Tom Misch, Del La Soul, It Runs Through Me

“It was a lie when they smiled and said you won’t feel a thing”- My Chemical Romance, Disenchanted

“The fog has lifted and things get clear, all the lies pass by like a reel of film. I hate you”- EXO, 내가 미쳐 (Going Crazy) *Translated*

“I’m sorry- no, I’m not sorry, I’m just getting started and my life’s a party”- DEAN, Eric Bellinger, I’m Not Sorry

“Ain’t it fun, living in the real world?”- Paramore, Ain’t It Fun

“Ready or not, we are coming back- yeah, we’re over, we can tell you ‘bout what you need. You can look it up when you’re older”- Evergreen, Cargo Cult

“You, you got so much potential, every moment spent with you I bet was always eventful”- Aminé, Kehlani, Heebiejeebies- Bonus

“Could you imagine the taste of your lips if we never tried to kiss on the drive to Queens? 'Cause I imagine the weight of your ribs if you lied between my hips in the backseat”- Halsey, Roman Holiday

“Forever isn’t for everyone, is forever for you?”- Arctic Monkeys, Snap Out Of It

“Wish you good luck being lonely, I’mma push red every time you phone me. You vow to be a memory”- Ella Mai, ft. Ty Dolla $ign, She Don’t

“I’ve been dazed and confused from the day I met you, yeah I lost my head and I’d do it again”- Ruel, Dazed & Confused

“I just want you closer, is that alright? Baby let's get closer tonight”- Paolo Nutini, Last request

“You have no idea how pretty you are when you wake from sleep, you have no idea how beautiful you look as you get ready for bed”- Zion.T, No Makeup *Translated*

“I was thinking I could fly to your hotel tonight, baby, ‘cos I can’t get you off my mind”- Shawn Mendes, Lost In Japan

“She's soothing like the ocean rushing on the sand, she takes care of me, baby, she helps me be a better man. She's so beautiful, sometimes I stop to close my eyes, she's exactly what I need”- Jeremy Passion, Lemonade

“And her lips are like the galaxy's edge and her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place”- Arctic Monkeys, Arabella

“It's how you look, not how you feel. A city of glass with no heart”- Queens of the Stone Age, If I Had a Tail

“I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife”- Hozier, Take Me To Church

“Bitter and hardened heart, Oh, aching- waiting for life to start”- Keane, Bend & Break

“When you move I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be, when you move I could never define all that you are to me”- Hozier, Movement

“She said, ‘Baby, I'm afraid to fall in love, 'cause what if it's not reciprocated?’ I told her, ‘Don't rush girl, don’t you rush, guess it's all a game of patience.’”- Pink Sweat$, Honesty

“Share a casket with you, we’ll be buried alive, me and her playing truth ‘til the day we die.”- Granata Ft. Phoniks, You Dont Need Me

“And hope that I had survived yesterday, and today is jealous of tomorrow.”- Emeli Sandé, Breathing Underwater

“Heaven if you sent us down so we could build a playground for the sinners to play as saints, you'd be so proud of what we've made.” Stephen, Crossfire

“Tell me how do you cope with it? How do you sleep with yourself at night? How do you cope with it? How do you sleep with yourself at night?”- blackbear, make daddy proud

“If anyone looks perfect, you look perfect next to me.”- Nick Wilson, Obsolete

“When I meet you after time passes, I’ll know (you were my future), I’ll know (I was your yesterday). When I meet you after time passes, I’ll know (you protected me), I’ll know (I desired you).”- SEVENTEEN (Wen Junhui & Xu Minghao), My I *Translated*

“I need my sex n’ drugs, I need my money first, bless me with all my sins.”- Abhi The Nomad, Ft. Harrison Sands & Copper King, Sex ‘n Drugs

“Naked and fallin' in love, look here I got you. Safe where there's no one to judge, keep it insightful.”- Keiynan Lonsdale, Preach

“All alone, all we know is haunting me, making it harder to breathe, harder to breathe.”- The Neighbourhood, Leaving Tonight

“Now I see you get off of the subway, haven't seen you in months but it's okay. I'd forgotten but I feel the same, hate that I still wish you were...”- Claud, Wish You Were Gay

“A perfect stranger lying next to me, he's playing God with broken figurines. He keeps calling me his little queen and I believe.”- Jake Wesley Rogers, Little Queen (This song deserves way more recognition, make sure to give it a listen!)

“Hell is so close to Heaven, hell is so close to Heaven. Hold on don't look back, you know we're better- we’re better than that. Lost and thrown away, you know we're better- we’re better than that.”- Sleeping With Sirens, The Strays

“Alone tonight, I’m drawing my dreams across the sky farther than I can imagine- She wants it.”- CIX, Movie Star *Translated*

“Yeah I mixed words and some whiskey on the flight just to make sure I landed on time and I wrote me a song I could sing just in case I forgot everything.”- Marc E. Bassy, Last One I Love

“Don't ask questions you don't wanna know, learned my lesson way too long ago.” “Deadly fever, please don't ever break, be my reliever 'cause I don't self medicate”- Billie Eilish, my strange addiction

“And it's worth it, it's divine, I have this some of the time.”- Hozier, Cherry Wine

“And I realize you're mine, Indeed, a fool am I.”- Queens of the Stone Age, No One Knows

“Look in the mirror ‘til I forget everything I know, everything I did was just a way to make the time feel faster.”- Miya Folick, Stock Image

“Do you feel how I feel? Are you numb? Do you tread crystal waters, bound to be stung? Are you scared? If I see you, we're upon, will you dye your hair dark so you're no longer blonde?”- Isaac Dunbar, Cologne

“Tell me; To you I’m bad & hurtful. Because I’ve been busy, you’re hurting. Bad, bad, bad, I’m bad, bad.”- Crush, NAPPA (나빠) *Translated*

“Just for the record, the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of: A. Indifference or B. disinterest to what the critics say.”- Panic! At The Disco, London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines

“‘Cause you don’t say what you feel, I'm the one driving but you take the wheel. You wanna wait, 'til we're older, I'm the one who started this, but now I just want closure.”- Ieuan, Closure

“Our names carved in the pavement, sealed by what's left of our handprints, now. I told my mom, she'd love to meet you, but it's too bad she won't get the chance to.”- COIN, Malibu 1992

“I'm running outta time to hold you close, running outta time to be your man. I'm just lost in this moment, I've been zoning.”- blackbear, 4u

“Standing on your mama's porch, you told me that you'd wait forever. Oh and when you held my hand, I knew that it was now or never”- Bryan Adams, Summer Of ‘69

“I'll go out, grow my hair too long, sing your least favourite songs at the top of my lungs. I'll go out, kiss all of your friends, make a story and pretend it was me who made this end.”- The Vamps, Hair Too Long

“Getting my mind right, I'll wait 'til the time's right. I'm meaning to tell you why it's hard to sleep at night. There's nothing to fear now, girl, we should be here now. So why don't you hear me out?”- Jeremy Zucker, Ft. blackbear, talk is overrated

“We haven't spoke since you went away, comfortable silence is so overrated. Why won't you ever be the first one to break? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”- Harry Styles, From the Dining Table

“Look overhead at the stars and the ocean, foggy emotions, moments, erosion. This supernova could cause a commotion, my minds of the notion, you'll still be my motive”- Ansel Elgort, Supernova

“I love that new dress you bought, yeah, you sure look nice. Heard you liked that new restaurant, you know, I've been there twice. And the way that you switch up your hair, all of the moments we've shared, strolling the streets back in Rome, oh, how I wish I was there. It ain't fair.”- Ruel, Face To Face

“Welcome to your life, there's no turning back. Even while we sleep we will find you acting on your best behaviour, turn your back on mother nature.”- Tear For Fears, Everybody Wants to Rule the World

“I'm wide awake, not losing any sleep, I picked up every piece and landed on my feet. I'm wide awake, need nothing to complete myself, no.” Katy Perry, Wide Awake

“If you don't realize, all of the things your life can do you will be left behind, swept up by the storm of those you knew.”- Meltycanon, thankful

“I always knew that we'd be by each other's side forever, now our time has come and I'd be satisfied if we died together. Yeah, our climate's fucked, we might as well enjoy the weather, our time is up and I'd be satisfied if we died together.”- Samsa, Anthropocene

“There's still so much to say, I'm faded, broken, pretending you're on the line, wasting my time. Sinking deeper, watching you spend your night, like I'll be fine and I'll be over this.”- NYK, Faded

“I’d rather go to hell, than be in purgatory, cut my hair, gag and bore me, pull this pin, let this world explode.”- My Chemical Romance, Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)

“I reached for a shooting star, it burned a hole through my hand Made its way through my heart, had fun in the promised land.”- blink-182, Wishing Well

“Let go of your baggage, but don’t think I don’t understand it’s probably a challenge,”- Isaac Lewis, Fly

“It's been a long night in New York city, it's been a long night in Baton Rouge. I don't remember you looking any better, but then again, I don't remember you.”- John Mayer, Who Says

“They say that love kills, it ain't quite what it seems, don't be shocked when you lost what you called ‘meant to be’.”- StayLoose, Bryce Fox, Sociopath

“When they come for You, I will shield Your name, I will field their questions, I will feel Your pain.”- Kanye West, Ultralight Beam

“Two steps forward, one step back and it won’t be long til my heart attack, yup! And common sense falls second place to the way it feels when you kiss my face, yup!”- The Band CAMINO, 2 / 14

“Leaving empty souls when he avenged, evil spirits flowed, he drank the blood like lemonade.”- Morcheeba, Blood Like Lemonade

“Your smile will become a classic; the brilliance of sunlight, the haziness of the moonlight exist for the sake of promises.”- WayV, Moonwalk

Dear God, I hope you got the letter and I pray you can make it better down here. I don't need a big reduction in the price of beer, but all the people that you made in your image- see them starving on their feet.”- Lawless, Sydney Wayser, Dear God

“Down below, sandy, like the ocean floor, quiet, like I like it; here I'll never be alone.”- slenderbodies, anemone

“I love everything, fire spreading all around my room, my world's so bright, it's hard to breathe but that's alright- hush.”- Sub Urban, Cradles

“I'm telling myself, I'm telling myself, ‘I don't need you anymore’.”- Lia Marie Johnson, Cold Heart Killer

“So I moved to California, but it's just a state of mind, it turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that's not a lie. Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine- it's killing me slowly.” Lana Del Rey,  Fuck it I love you

“See, she knows that I love her, but I don't think she'll stay and she knows that I need her, but my love's lost its weight. Spend my days longing for something real, spend my days stuck in the way I feel.”- JOBA, Sad Saturdays

#prompts #prompt list #prompt #writing prompt #writing prompts #story prompts #story prompt #Lyrics #lyric prompts #lyric prompt #book prompt #book prompts #writers helping writers #songwriters #lyrical genius #lyricist #writing #writers block #writers #writers blog #A Cure for Writers Block

[polishksiezniczka]

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna Fluff ABCs | Camerlengo x Female Reader

Il camerlengo deserves more love ❤

Notes: These take place in an AU where the Cardinal Strauss and Commander Richter are guilty of the attacks on the Vatican. 2K words.

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

There are so many things about you Patrick adores: your beautiful, soft smile; the curiosity and warmth your eyes convey; the feminine lilt of your voice. But most of all, he loves you for your heart. The kindness you show towards others makes you an angel in his eyes.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why or why not?)

Despite his vocation to the priesthood, Patrick would love nothing more than to start a family with you. He views the love you share as a gift from God, not something that should be disgraced or vilified. The arbitrary man-made rules of the Church which prevent him from realizing this longing—your own little family—frustrate him to no end.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

With the utmost care and gentleness. He holds you against him, reverently stroking your hair, face, and body with his warm fingers. He especially loves to admire the suppleness of you, softly kissing each and every glorious inch he can reach. While these moments are few, they are precious to him.  

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Because your relationship with Patrick is technically “forbidden,” you can’t go on dates in the normal sense. When he can, Patrick will use the secret passage between the Vatican and Castel Sant’ Angelo to discretely travel to the outside world in order to visit you. Because you really can’t be seen alone with him, you instead spend time with Patrick in your apartment, often cooking dinner, talking, and just enjoying each other’s company. Even if you can’t confess your love to the world yet, all he desires is to spend every moment he can with you.

E = Everything [“You are my ____________.” (e.g. my life, my world)]

“You are my heart.”

“You are my treasure.”

“You are my life’s greatest blessing. You are a gift from God.”

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

When he imagined his life without you. The pain he felt even entertaining the notion was too much for him to bear. He knew he needed to tell you before it was too late.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

This is one of the main reasons you fell in love with Patrick—he is truly the gentlest soul you have ever met. He treats you as if you were a priceless relic, practically worshipping the ground you walk on and swearing to defend you from any harm. Not that he won’t stand up for what he believes—he is a fierce defender of his faith and possesses the ability to inspire millions with his commanding oratory. But the look of love in his eyes when you catch him watching you makes your heart flutter rapidly in your chest like a schoolgirl’s.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Secretly and with all the affection he can possibly give. He especially loves to brush his thumb across the back of your hand, squeeze them lightly, or bring them to his lips when they are intertwined. When you are alone together, he always wants to maintain this type of intimate contact.  

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

When you first met Patrick, the always-charming young priest was left speechless. Not only was he enamored of your beauty, he was mesmerized by your intellect and eloquence. At first, he chided himself for such foolish and boy-like thoughts—he was a priest, after all! But after slowly getting to know you, he realized how much you embodied perfection to him: your poise, the uncommon kindness you showed to all those you met, your deep devotion to your Catholic faith. And you couldn’t help but feel the same strong attraction to him.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous much?)

Patrick is not the jealous type—he would never have any reason to be. Your love is built on trust and truthfulness, and he alone holds the key to your heart.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You were the first to kiss Patrick. You had gone to him for guidance after suffering a deeply personal anguish. His words were so gentle and reassuring, you couldn’t help but softly kiss his cheek in gratitude as tears slipped silently from your eyes. You were too numb to even feel ashamed, let alone prepare for Patrick’s response: taking your hand and kissing it lovingly, a gesture meant to assure you your feelings were reciprocated.

Because of Patrick’s profession and his constant presence in the public eye, you can’t be together as often as you’d like. But when you are, you nearly die and go to heaven from his mouth’s attentions alone. Patrick’s kisses are gentle, reverent, and full of love. He is never aggressive or rough; instead, he worships you with his lips, laying them everywhere like a starving man put before a feast.

L = Love (Who says I love you first?)

Patrick did. He was running to the helicopter to dispose of the antimatter chamber, willing to sacrifice his life for the safety of the faithful gathered in the Square and his beloved St. Peter’s. As he prepared to take off, he saw you standing on the steps at the entrance to the basilica, tears in your eyes. He silently mouthed to you, “I love you. Pray for me.” You were distraught but could do nothing but nod as tears clouded your vision and watch as he ascended from the plaza into the night sky.    

M = Memory (What’s their favorite memory together?)

One night you begged Patrick to go for a walk around the city together, like a normal couple would. You couldn’t brush away the romantic childhood notions of strolling through Rome with your beloved. He finally acquiesced to your pleas (your doe eyes and breathy implorations being of great assistance to you) and the two of you slipped quietly out into the dusky night. You frolicked at the Trevi Fountain, gazed at the enormity of the Pantheon, and shared a sweet treat from the gelateria while nestled on a bridge overlooking the Tiber River. Although the ancient city was beautiful, the sight beside him was what truly took his breath away.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Priests are sworn to a life of poverty, so Patrick does not shower you with expensive presents (nor can he afford to). But none of that matters to you because all you care about is Patrick and your love for him. Of his few earthly possessions, Patrick gifted you his late mother’s golden crucifix necklace inlaid with emerald, despite your attempts to dissuade him. He gave you the look of utmost adoration and smiled. “Angelo mio, you are the only one worthy of wearing it.” You wear the necklace every day as a secret declaration of your love for Patrick.  

O = Orange (What color reminds them of their other half?)

There are two: light pink (it is your favorite color and the color of your favorite flower, the gardenia) and white. White symbolizes purity and peace, as it is the color of the angels, and to Patrick, you are his angel on Earth.  

P = Pet Names (What pet names do they use?)

Angelo mio (“my angel”); cuore mio (“my heart”); mi amore (my love); “beloved”; “dearest”; “my treasure” ; “sweetheart.”

Q = Quaint (What is their favorite non-modern thing?)

His rosary, made of olive wood grown on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. It was a gift from His Holiness.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Ideally, he would spend the day curled up together on the sofa with you, reading, talking, or just basking in the other’s presence. Two mugs of tea and a plate of delectable pastries you had baked for him would sit on the table but would remain uneaten because of the sustenance you provide to each other. When he cannot be with you, he enjoys spending time in his study, doing research, reading Scripture, or writing his weekly homily.  

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Prayer—he always turns to God and the Saints for guidance.

Naturally, being by your side and in close physical contact immediately quells even his deepest fears. He relishes listening to your soft, sweet voice, lulling him into a sense of profound comfort and eventually, sleep.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Patrick is an intellectual at heart and loved the time he spent in seminary. He is incredibly well-versed in a variety of topics, including literature, history, science, music, art, philosophy, and theology. You could listen to him for hours and never lose interest.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

You. Patrick can be himself around you, let his guard down. He knows that he can tell you anything. Sometimes when he has a lot on his mind (responsibilities, the welfare of his Church, your future together), he simply gazes at you lovingly and observes the subtle movements you make when you’re engrossed in a task like cooking, reading, or playing the piano.

When he’s anxious and you are not around, prayer provides him a deep sense of comfort. He also relishes in your sweet scent—a small vial of your perfume you gifted him.  

V = Vaunt (How do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Vanity is a sin! 😉

But in secret, he loves showing off his Latin skills to you! You find it incredibly sensual when he speaks to you in that ancient tongue.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

On a dreamy spring night, Patrick led you up to a secret balcony near the base of St. Peter’s massive  dome—a hidden observatory shown to him by His Holiness when he was a young boy. The view is breathtaking; you can see the whole city bathed in golden light, the inky blue darkness above cut by the silver caresses of the moon. You turn to Patrick in complete awe and could hardly articulate how beautiful the view was. He pulls you close to him and whispers that he would be happy if he could never see this view again if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with you. You turned to him, overwhelmed with love, your breath hitching at the significance of his words. He then knelt down before you, taking your hands in his.

“Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, of all the blessings God has bestowed upon me, none is more precious than you. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew that we were meant to be together, in this place and time.” His eyes were sincere and insistent, his tone earnest as he held your hands tighter and continued: “My mind told me that we could not be together, that my vows of celibacy and chastity forbid this. But my heart tells me that if a love so pure as ours exists, is it not a gift from God, meant to be treasured? And though I may not deserve to understand, all I wish to know and feel is my love for you.” His eyes shone softly with tears.  

“Y/N, my love, will you make me the happiest man on Earth and spend the rest of your life with me? Will you be my wife?”

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Patrick loves the ancient hymns from the early days of the Church, their melodies hauntingly beautiful yet powerful. “Ave Maria” also has a special place in his heart after he heard you singing it softly to yourself one evening while preparing dinner.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Every day! Patrick is so torn between the duties of his priesthood and his intense longing to spend the rest of his life as your husband. He prays to God often about this personal conflict, but finally decides to propose to you before Him alone, indifferent to anyone else’s judgement.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Because Patrick is so easygoing and affectionate, he would do really well with dogs.

Tag: @lemairepstuff @seraferna

#ewan mcgregor #patrick mckenna #camerlengo #angels and demons #dan brown #il camerlengo #carlo ventresca #ewanfuckinmcgregor #forgive me father for i have sinned

[votederpycausemufins]

as i'm currently obsessed with your shared space au, I was wondering how doc would react to sam's less moral actions? because despite doc's intimidating feeling, he is a hermit and cares greatly about others.

When Doc and Sam first realized the situation they were in, it didn’t go well. Sam immediately thought the worst and panicked. Doc did his best to help the warden, but it still took a while. Sam was convinced that this was because of someone named Dream, or some plot to help the guy. The thing to finally convince the man was when Doc gave his name and it was something Sam recognized.

“Alright, now that you’re finally calm, can you actually answer some things for me?”

Sam looked around. There wasn’t anyone around of course. No one could get in unless he let them, save for maybe Ghostbur, but he wasn’t likely to visit. “I’ve got a few questions of my own.”

“Yeah, I expected that. I probably can’t answer a lot of them though. I’ve got no clue why I’m here or how, and obviously you don’t either since you were freaking out. This also definitely is your world and body because you’ve got all your limbs and this definitely isn’t a place I’ve built, though the redstone looks good.”

“Uh, thanks. This is Pandora’s Vault.”

Doc would have nodded if he could. “Sounds like a name Joe would pick. Based on your panic before, you're keeping someone named Dream here?”

“Yeah. In the highest security cell.”

“Ah, you’ve got more cells here? Good use of space. If you ever want me to, we can look at the redstone and I can see if I can help with any upgrades. Of course, might not be the best idea with him already locked up.”

“I can still get some notes from you. Right now we’ve got a box of obsidian and crying obsidian covered in lava. Netherite blocks make up a gate for visitors as well as the main door. Respawn bed that the prisoner can’t get to that doubles as an emergency escape. We’ve also got an elder guardian for mining fatigue.”

Doc thought it over. It seemed pretty good, but it seemed like there were a few issues. “You said the respawn point is an emergency exit?”

“Yeah. There’s redstone around the bed so as soon as he respawns, he’s away from the bed so it can’t be broken and thrown back in the cell. There’s also some dispensers for potions to be thrown down, so if someone needs an emergency exit, they stand in the drop puddle and they get sent back out of the cell.”

“Alright, so even if he tried using the exit, it would put him back in the cell.” Doc said, mentally rubbing his chin in thought, then noticed Sam was doing the same. “Are you doing that or am I?”

“Uh, I think you.”

“Good to know. Sorry about that. Could be useful later, but I know someone else messing with your limbs is not the most fun.”

“You nearly died to a god, didn’t you? Stole half your body?”

Doc chuckled. “Nah man. Basically we had a bit of a fight of sorts and I won. He got a bit upset and just sort of made my right arm disappear. Not like I hadn’t already made my own prosthetics. And he wasn’t the worst I’ve met.”

“Notch?” Sam asked, and he could feel the way Doc reacted to the name.

“Yeah. Him. Some people wonder if it was all that worshiping that got to his head, but I’m pretty sure he was always like that and just hid it well. I’m guessing that’s part of how you know me.”

Sam nodded. “I may have found out about all that when figuring out how to build this prison.”

“Based on how you’re acting, I can see why. This Dream guy sounds like a mess. And if you’re admin won’t deal with him…”

“That’s the thing.” Sam cut in. “He sort of is the admin. A sort of shit one at that since he can’t get himself out without anything in place to stop his admin powers. He just doesn’t seem to have them or something.”

“Ah. And obviously you can’t kill him since he could just respawn.” Doc said, but then there was an uncomfortable silence. “You have respawn mechanics. You just said you’re using them with this whole setup.”

“It’s a bit different here. It’s some sort of bastardized form of the way respawning works in minigame worlds. We’ve all got three lives theoretically, but when we lose them depends on how they’re lost. And then we don’t get thrown into a spectator like reality. You’re either dead dead, or an actual ghost.”

“Yeah, I can really see why this guy is a problem now. Can kill him because it would destabilize the world then? Or he’s told you it would?”

There was silence for a few moments. Doc could tell there was something else, but he wasn’t pushing. Just when the hybrid thought that there wouldn’t be an answer, Sam spoke again. “We’ve had a few people die so far. There’s one person here named Tommy, and he was really close to someone who died. Dream really fucked with Tommy but the bastard finally got his comeuppance. Tommy nearly took all of his lives, but one thing he can manage to do as admin is revive people who were killed.”

Doc took a moment to process all that. “So, you’re keeping him alive because this guy misses someone who died?”

“Well Tommy was the one to get screwed over by this guy the most. We all let him decide what would happen and he wanted Dream alive.”

“Not sure if that’s crazy or brave.”

“Might be both.” Sam replied. “Might just be the kid has some hope. And you don’t get much of that around here.”

Doc paused. Sam didn’t seem all that old, but he was calling this other person a kid. Sure, sometimes the hermits joked about Mumbo being ‘the kid’ but he was a lot younger than the ones who actually did that. “How old is Tommy?”

“Sixteen.”

If Doc had been in his own body, he knew he would be hissing. “Sam. What’s a minor doing in a world like this?”

“He joined and can’t really get out. It wasn’t this bad when everything started. The respawn hadn’t been messed with back then.”

Doc accepted the answer, but wasn’t happy about it. “So, this kid is letting some horrible guy stay alive because he can maybe revive people?”

“There’s… no maybe about it anymore.”

“Did he revive the guy you wanted?” There wasn’t an answer from Sam. “Have other people died here other than this one guy people want alive?” Sam nodded. “So he revived one of those people?” Hesitantly, Sam shook his head, but then nodded.

“What’s the name of the person he revived?” Doc asked, but Sam wouldn’t answer. “Sam, who did he revive? The only people I know about here are-” Doc paused. Right now, he only knew three people here. Dream obviously couldn’t revive himself. And Doc is pretty sure he would be able to tell if he was in a body that got revived. “Tommy died. Didn’t he?”

“Yeah…” Sam replied, voice barely over a whisper. Doc only heard what the warden had said because they were sharing a body. He could also tell there was more to it. Compared to everything Doc had heard from Sam, or felt from the guy, there had to be something else that made him feel so bad about it.

“You don’t have to answer this, but it looks like Tommy’s death really got to you. You said he’s a minor, so maybe it’s that, but it seems like more. Like you two are close. Maybe related.”

“No. Not related.” Sam replied. “It’s my fault he died. He wanted some closure and it ended with his death. I could have done something, but…”

Doc knew the feeling. He preferred worlds like Hermitcraft because he knew people would respawn. They would come back. “I’m sure there was nothing you could actually do.”

“No. There was. But if I did that, well, Dream wouldn’t be locked up anymore.”

Doc mentally frowned. Something was definitely up now. Dream could only revive people. And obviously he revived Tommy. But what could he have possibly done to prevent the kid’s death that would involve him getting out? Doc tried to think of what it could be, and then it was like he could see what happened. “Dream killed him.”

“What did you just-”

“You could have stopped it and instead the kid got killed. Look, I don’t care if you guys want your admin to revive someone or not. If the one person who wants him alive is going to die unless you do something about this admin, you don’t take the option to let him out. You kill him instead. If this kid really wants Dream alive, he’s some sort of saint.”

“Well-”

“But at this point, I don’t care. This is too far. If we could have killed Notch instead of locking him up, we would have. You need to do the same or this might just happen again.”

“There are procedures-”

“You’re in charge of this goddamn place. You choose the procedures and rules. Just get rid of him.”

“Not unless Tommy wants it.”

“He’s a kid. A kid with a heart of gold, but still a kid. If he gets angry, fine, but you need to get rid of this guy. Especially since he’s an admin. If you lose him, someone’s going to show up to fix whatever the hell he caused and probably revive people anyway.”

“That’s not how this works.”

Doc took control of their one hand and slammed it down on the desk. It was hard enough that there was a crack, both from the desk and from their hand. “You’re going to get more people killed like this! And they might not be revived like Tommy was! Are you really okay with that?!”

Sam didn’t answer. He just took control again to check his hand over. It was going to need some healing. And he’d have to do that himself.

#hc x dsmp #shared space au #docm77 #awesamdude