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transmutationisms · 1 year

Note

could you talk more about catholicism vs protestantism in succession? I think roman accidentally buying the protestant football team instead of logan’s catholic team is super interesting

yeah the hearts/hibs mixup is a great detail. so in general i think this is a really funny level of the show. like, if you're making fun of american or british billionaires the obvious choice is to make them protestant. it's like, demographically likely, and in the american context in particular protestants have all these overt ways of reconciling their faith with capitalism and the desire to accumulate wealth. like, making money is configured as a signifier of bourgeois masculinity; it means you're productive (often implying and signified thru bodily fitness specifically, even though capitalists are ofc not the ones actually performing whatever labour is generating surplus value). catholicism is more uncomfortable generally with the open pursuit of worldly wealth, which is NOT to say catholics are never wealthy or that the church lacks wealth (it emphatically does not) but just to point out that this is a contradiction in ideals that catholics often just kind of uncomfortably ignore.

this is an undercurrent with the roys generally. they're ultrawealthy but rarely seem to enjoy their wealth all that much---like, they're comfortable and cosseted but they all have weird relationships with their bodies, food, sex, etc; also, their ways of signalling wealth are chronically uncool (their clothes) or else nouveau riche tacky (logan trying to host wine tastings or whatever that pierce make fun of him for). this also plays into how america has a relatively recent history of overt anti-catholic sentiment (like, see how people talked about jfk lmao) and combined with logan's canadian-scottish identity and lack of generational wealth, it gives him that persecution complex he retained even when he was literally one of the most powerful people in the world.

more to the point, logan has, like, the absolute worst and funniest case ever of catholic man who is uncomfortable with bodies disorder. it's tolerable if you're using your body to assert dominance in some way (pissing on kendall's floor, how logan wanted roman to say he was harassing gerri with the dick pics) but yuckydisgusting if you just like, have a body that is vulnerable or god forbid perceived by others (logan's attitude toward his illness, his disgust when it becomes clear roman was actually engaged in some kind of sexual affair with gerri---who is old and a woman and therefore also has a body). this is why it breaks logan's brain to think about shiv having affairs, and why, even though he is a misogynist, including to her, he does NOT talk about her body. it's also why he's so invested in getting roman "straightened out" and why he uses accusations of homosexuality to convey how much of a flop loser he thinks kendall is. his whole deal with masculinity is that Men Do Not Have Bodies. bodies are gross and physical, what are you, some kind of sissy? like, entire essays you could write on how each of the kids fits into this schema.

anyway, the obvious points of comparison here are the pierces (east coast blue-blood protestants), tom (germanic midwestern social striver protestant), connor's mother (american, lowbrow, implied/assumed protestant), caroline (protestant english aristocrat), and mencken (implied catholic convert, which is a whole other level). again you could write essays about this on any one of these characters, but in general the protestantism on the show is funny bc it's contrasting with logan's disgust at his body yet simultaneous desire for it to be Strong And Masc (NOT GAY!). caroline and the pierces bring out his persecution complex and insecurity about being boorish; tom is able to be "striving and parochial" partly bc he doesn't have the baggage of the roys, who are like, tormented by being wealthy in a gauche way ("how to control us news media in a god honouring way").

this is all like, peripheral obviously, but it's deeply funny also. and i do genuinely think the roys make more psychological sense when you understand that they have chart-busting levels of catholic martyr syndrome (kendall), guilt (roman), and repression (logan, shiv). even connor's "i'm like if napoleon was a us president" type beat is funnier through this lens (remember that napoleon very famously restored state relations with the catholic church after the revolutionaries had severed them and tried to found a secular 'republican religion').

with the three younger sibs in particular, this is one of the ways in which they fail to understand logan; they're aware on some level that he's catholic and were probably raised with some degree of religious practice, but it's heavily implied caroline interfered with this and the kids grew up less catholic than logan wanted, which was kinda the tradeoff for him having basically sought out an aristocratic pedigree for them. so, a misunderstanding like hearts vs hibs is a throwaway joke, but also hints at this much deeper level on which logan's kids don't get him or his priorities, and are never going to be able to respond adequately to his internally contradictory, repressed and repressive catholic-military-bourgeois standards for how they should relate to their bodies and how that affects his political worldview.

#i can expand on specific elements of this but if i wrote it in one post we wld be here all day #blood sacrifice

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shwarmii · 10 months

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how can you like drunk angst over first kiss?? 🥺

anon is regarding this post here, specifically my tags

characters discussed belong to @dakotawritesif / @disenchantedif

omg, so easily lol

bc its not just drunk angst, it is drunk angst about knowing their ex is gonna DIE, UNNATURALLY, AND SOON and pining/having never made up with them

but also im an asmr/audio-roleplay connoisseur*, so like, uh, also the following here. yeah. this primes me up to LOVE drunk ex scenario regret/pining shit lol (you'll have to excuse all these audios being men btw, i have a soft spot for deep voices and there isnt many deep-voiced women VAs in the audio-roleplay community (unfortunately foR MEEEE UGHH), much less many that have a video involving this niche Drunk Ex trope anyway lmao rip (same with the audios all being either "for Anybody" or "for Females". i don't currently have any "for Males" in this niche, even tho im the type of enby that listens to all three types of "for [you]" audios. alas. boo hiss))

none of these are "Luci-Inserts" btw, moreso "Evidence of why OF COURSE I AM MORE HYPED FOR DRUNK HALLWAY OVER FIRST KISS", like a vision board kinda sorta lmao

When Your Ex Drunk Calls You (I Miss You) (Slurred Speech) (Funny) (ASMR) (M4A).. (Fun fact: this VA is Scottish. also M4A = Male For Anyone, not just M4M (male for male) or M4F (male for female))

(this one is by the same Scottish VA) When You Drink With Your Ex (Kissing) (Exes to Lovers) (Drunk) (Regret) (Wholesome) (M4A) (ASMR)

(more of this Scottish VA bc he makes me laugh) When Your Crush Drunkenly Confesses To You (Singing Idiot) (Taking Care Of Him) (Silly) (ASMR) (M4A) (bonus there is a morning-after part two to this one yay)

Your Drunk Best Friend Wants You Gor Valentines [M4A] [Tsundere] [Confession] [Sober Listener] (and this one has a part two about the morning-after too)

ASMR Voice: I Should Have Told You [M4A] [Drunk Voicemail] [Ex-boyfriend] [Missing you] [Regret]

Audio Roleplay for Women | "Orbit" | Drunken Confession

Audio RP: Your Ex-boyfriend Asks For Another Chance [M4A] (not drunk but i love this one) (also it has a part two as well yayyy)

this one ((M4A but he does say you have a "pretty face") bc i do like Luci being upset someone is going to hurt the MC) and this one ((M4F) because i like the frustration lmao rip) also fit the vibe but neither are drunk or exes lmao rip

like, you would think as someone who is chronically ill to the point that my meds say "absolutely no alcohol (and one used to say no weed, idk if im still on that one, id have to go check)" that i would not give a shit about drunk scenarios buT I DO LOVE IT IN FICTION SO MUCH. my irl friends also like getting drunk on/off, or high, and my forced sobriety due to meds (and also family history, let's be honest. i do come from a long line of addicts, apparently, best i dont get involved, and i never have been) means i get to play Designated Driver pretty often. so i do recognize some realities/fantasties in the scenario. but also, god, i love the trope because it allows for such forced vulnerabilities, i fucking love whump fics, and a drunk ex fic is really just a whump fic with no bruises

and, ngl, i do think it is more likely we will get a First Kiss pov somewhere down the line if it loses than i think we will get a Hallway pov if it loses

plus, they were like what, 10?? 11??? idk how old they were when Luci/MC got together. but i know these fuckers are fresh out of high school and Luci is getting drunk, which means biTCHES ARE UNDERAGE DRINKING (which is an interesting characterization for Luci that i think reveals a lot about the Rivera parents as well as Luci's connections to wealth/alcohol), so there is that drama of "hide, hide, hide!!" if nothing else

and, again, then there's not only the angst of "ah, my ex-partner and/or -best friend" and the wanting to make up platonically/romantically but there is also the angst of "i knOW YOU'RE GOING TO GET MURDERED SOON AND IM NOT READY TO GO TO YOUR FUNERAL BUT I DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP THIS" kind of "lost time", "call for rain-check until you can't" angle too. plus, i could see Luci being protective or frustrated or terrified, there are so many fun angles no matter the platonic/romantic additional feelings involved. and, because of how this pov works, there isnt going to be a kiss or anything happening. so it's just going to be slow-burn (to friends or lovers, idk your mc) and pining (platonic pining is a thing), i love that for me specifically lmao

but i do, like, get it. i get what you mean. if i thought this ask was mean-spirited, i wouldve deleted it and not answered; but i read this as "lol yeah that is fucked of me huh lmao you right". bc, YEAH, first kiss is romantic, drunk in your shared hallways is NOT lmao rip but i dont care if its romantic or not, i care that its making my guts get all twisted up. and the angst of (1) drunk ex that needs to taken care of (or needs to run away from you, either or) (2) thinks youre going to be murdered/in an accident and die soon and (3) may/may not still be in love with you and (4) knows they dont have enough time to reconcile with you and make-up for lost time... ngl, that is going to impact me more than a first kiss. im ready for the tragedy. fucking love this kinda shit

also i have my own hcs about my mc, Giselle "Gigi" Kraven, and Luci Rivera's first kiss. so. that probably also plays a role in all this bUT HEY!! IM STILL TRYING FOR THE 50/50 LMAO RIP WE ARE HELPING EACH OTHER, MY COMRADE 🤝 YOU GET (DOOMED) FLUFF AND I GET (ALSO DOOMED) DRUNK ANGST, THAT'S A WIN-WIN LOL

*i would like to add: i have no idea if any of these VAs have drama or something. i dont pay attention to the fandoms, except vaguely for Redacted Audios because of the theories and world-building happening there (which the video here doesnt have much to do with), but otherwise i am so fucking ignorant bc i do not look these people up, i just watch their videos. i have been burned too many times by the Steven Universe fandom and other such communities and whatnot to get involved in fandoms i am only casually into, so i just only stick my nose into fandoms/creators i am die-hard into and dont delve into the rest, thanks for understanding if i may be out of the loop ✌️

#shwarmi #me #disenchanted if #disenchanted #luci rivera #edit: ngl the Cardlin video (or however you spell his name) swuicks me out a bit bc he says ''[I miss] Your body..'' and i went #EW UGH GROSS GET AWAY FROM ME but it was two words so ill allow it to stay on the list bc not everybody is so anti towards the #idea of other people seeing them as sexy. gahh i hate being seen as sexually appealing. makes me wanna gag ugh #*squicks

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cambria-writes · 1 year

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hello! happy new year darlings!

im late for rent (though i did send it a good while ago), one and half family members short and shit's fucked lmao. it's been a rough start of the year, but i hope everyone is doing well, staying hydrated and going to bed at reasonable hours!

bit delayed; i had intended on posting this over a week ago, but i'm a chronically ill bitch so shit kinda happened woops

pairing: patrick jane x reader word count: 2,801 rating: M warning: swearing, named afab reader, no y/n, no physical descriptions, reader is still a bit drunk, description of a panic attack, fuck it we're using british/canadian english now, unspecified age gap but it's there, there's kissing in this one!!

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔯

You wake up without realising you’d fallen asleep. Not entirely convinced you drank enough for it, you chalk it up to exhaustion. Blink a few times to clear your vision. Jane is still driving. By the speed, you must be in a residential area. You’re definitely not on a highway, anyways. Try once to ask where you are, but the words come out mangled and completely unintelligible.

“Glad to see you’re back with us.” The comment somehow irritates you. Grunt a few more times before your tongue can form words.

“Mmnnh, sure. Where—where are we?”

Jane frowns like he’s caught off guard by the question. Really? You just asked where you are. Was he just aimlessly driving? Did he forget you were in the car with him? You almost hope so. That probably means you didn’t snore. That would have been… embarrassing. You blink, and the confused expression is gone. Did you imagine it? Are you still halfway asleep? Maybe. You sink deeper into the car seat.

“I’m taking you home with me,” is the answer Jane settles on.

“Clearly not my home. I couldn’t afford a single room in one of these places,” you mutter, resting your head against the window and watching the streetlights go by. Try not to focus on the strange sensation in your stomach at the thought of actually stepping foot in The Patrick Jane’s home. You’re absolutely not thinking about it. Not at all.

When the car slows you can’t even tell the time on the dash. Not sure what woke up; the slowing car or the tension. Jane helps you pull yourself out of his citroen. Your eyes are closed most of the time. There’s keys rattling and a door opening. Immediately you’re hit with… something. A heavy feeling in the bit of your stomach, pressing uncomfortably against your sternum.

Jane whispers reassurances to you while he acts as a human crutch. Guides you to a couch to sit on. Figure it’s probably comfortable, but something about it feels off. You run your hands on the material of it next to your thigh. You’re not sure if you’re surprised that it’s suede and not leather.

The memory of seeing Jane’s murdered family making headlines comes unbidden. Completely uncalled for. You frown and make a vague attempt at growling the words away.

Warmth pulls at your hand. You realise you closed your eyes again. With bleary eyes, look up in front of you. There’s… no one there. Something in your mind begins to wake up. Twist around, with an arm on the back of the couch, to look behind you. There’s nothing there, either, but… but there’s a door. There’s a door half-hidden by a hallway corner. Screw your eyes shut a few times. Was that door there when you came in? Did you even pass through there on your way in?

When you turn back around to settle into the couch, you rest your head against the back of it. There’s no way you drank enough to be this out of it. Try to remember what you had to drink; there was definitely a lot of wine. More than you’d normally drink but… did you accept a drink from someone else? The poor wannabe mafioso boy? Did someone slip something in your—

“Hey, you with me?”

Jane’s voice startles you. Eyes wide, you catch him retracting the hand he’d reached out with. Clear your throat a few times. How far off in your thoughts were you?

“Yeah, uh—sorry. What’s up?”

The way Jane looks at you is unsettling. His eyes don’t seem to be doing more than flick back and forth between your eyes. You know better. Even your peripheral is picking up on his fingers. He’s… is he fidgeting?

“Are you—”

“I was just—”

Suddenly you’re thankful for the alcohol. This would definitely be the type of awkward situation that makes you want to jump off a cliff. Unpleasant. Jane motions for you to continue.

“I was, I wanted to—are you okay?” Wince at how loud your voice is. You don’t even know what time it is but it’s definitely late enough for there to not be a single sound around. Not even a car idling outside.

“Absolutely,” Jane replies easily, without missing a beat. Strange. “The guest room is ready. Do you need a glass of water?”

You can’t help but frown. There’s something just off about his choice of words and the succinctness he’s speaking with. Without thinking much, you just lean forward to let a finger brush against his left hand and.

And—

And you just drop, boneless, back into the couch like something suckerpunched you. You’re trying desperately to compute what just happened. You saw something. You definitely saw that, right? A bloody smile on the wall and—shit, fuck, were those bodies? Corpses? Was there any way you could’ve heard about that on the news? How much attention do you even pay to the news? Would news outlets have even known about details like that? Where on earth—

Somewhere, very far away, you can hear Jane calling your name. Your ears are ringing. There’s a logical reason for this right? Are you just having a belated post-traumatic episode? Are you just using familiar, impersonal imagery to deal with it?

You feel when Jane puts his hands on your knees. You feel it when his hands on your shoulders, shaking. It’s when his hands are on your face, thumbs brushing your brows, that you gasp for air. Slap a hand to his chest but not–not to push him away. You fist your right hand in his shirt and choke on your breath.

“Come on, breathe with me.”

Shake your head. No. You can’t breathe right. Not yet. Every time you blink you see something else. The note on the door–blink. A barren mattress against a wall–blink. A gasket, half the size it should be–blink. An old tube television playing the same tape over and over–blink. Your hand moves from being balled in Jane’s shirt to grabbing at his neck. Maybe, if it’s just a little more–

You close your eyes longer and screw them shut.

It plays like a movie, being sped up every few seconds. Driving through the house. Walking through the door. Put the mail down. Moving the bikes, training wheels and all. Taking the stairs two by two and then–

The note. The done, read quietly, and the slowly sinking realisation. And then the wall, lit with a lamp and the–

Try to blink the images and the–the tears? Blink all of it away. Bent over at the waist and holding onto Jane for dear life. It’s not what I see that’s distressing. It’s everything that comes with it–the shock, the consuming guilt, the rage and obsession. The dangerous edge that’s just under the surface, sharp enough to cut yourself just getting close to it.

He’s killed people, right? Patrick Jane has killed people. That’s the only way to identify the feeling of black sludge down your throat.

The image of the Devil comes to your mind, unbidden. Horns sharp and flames hot and rusting crown at his feet.

Jane tries to get up but tighten your grip on him. The movement jostles you almost painfully. Realize all your limbs are locked; knees trembling and arms shaking with the effort of holding on and holding still.

“Okay, alright,” you hear him say. Makes himself comfortable in front of you on the couch. “I’m not going anywhere. But you need to breathe, Skye. Whatever’s going on can’t hurt you here. You’re safe.” Slowly moves your hand to rest your fingers on his pulse. Steady, quicker than it should be, but thrumming. Constant.

He repeats a litany of reassurances, says to focus on his voice. The lights are too bright. Your eyes burn. Your throat burns. It hurts to breathe deeply. Try to pace your breathing with his heartbeat. Lose count of how many cycles you do like that.

“Tell me five things you touch,” you hear Patrick say. Safe enough.

“Dress,” you rasp, trying to flex your fingers. “The c-the couch.”

“Good. Keep going. What else can you feel?” The calm in his voice is almost maddening.

“Your–the–your shirt.” Cough once. Twice. Try to breathe deeper. “Your skin. The floor–under my feet. The floor.”

A thumb runs over my left brow. That shouldn’t feel as calming as it does.

“Good girl. You’re doing good,” Jane whispers. Something in his tone makes a shiver rip through your spine into your skull. “Give me four things you can see.”

Choke on the inhale. Only move your eyes. “The window. The coffee table. The fern. The…” You trail off, letting your eyes come back to the man in front of you. “You. I see you.”

“Perfect. Three things you can smell.” When did he move his hand? Why is he brushing hair away from your eyes?

“Dust,” you whisper. You try to add humour to your voice but it falls flat. Desperate. “The wine I drank. You.”

“Good girl. You’re almost there.” Is he… is he closer? “Two things you can hear.”

You exhale loudly and hope it conveys annoyance. There’s fucking nothing do be heard.

“My breathing, I-I guess.” All at once, it’s like the tension leaves your body. You let your head fall forward, rest your forehead against his. “You.”

“I’m going to start discounting that as an answer,” Patrick says, and you can feel the chuckle rumble between you. “One thing you can taste.”

You don’t let yourself think before you angle your head up an inch–the most movement you feel capable of, limbless as you feel. And kiss his forehead. Jane stays stone-still in front of you when you lick your lips.

“Am I still allowed to say y–”

All at once he crowds into you, forcing you to unfold, lean back into the couch. One knee propped next to your hip, one hand on the back of the couch and the hand at your cheek pulling you in.

But he stops just close enough for you to feel his breath against your lips.

The only thing you can hear really is both of your breathing, laboured and unsteady. Neither of you move; your hand grasping at his shirt trapped between you and your other at his jaw.

“You,” you whisper, taking a chance to break the silence. “I taste you.”

Jane keeping his silence for several interminably long moments. You can’t tell if it’s your heartbeat you can feel drumming through your arms or if it’s his.

“You’re impossible,” is all he says before taking his hand off the back of the couch and crushing his lips to yours.

You sigh through your nose and the rest of the tension leaves your body. You feel like you’re floating. It’s just a press of lips–nothing untoward, nothing explicit. But the way Patrick cards his fingers through the back of your hair has you feeling like you’re floating. Curl an arm around his neck to run your fingers through his hair in return.

Of course it’s fucking soft.

When Jane pulls back–slowly, like you’re a wounded animal ready to run at the first sign of movement–you try to follow. The squeeze of a hand at the back of your nek has you stay put.

“You need to sleep this off,” he says, and you resent how unbothered he sounds. Make a discontent sound at the back of your throat, which he has the gall to god damn scoff at. “You’re drunk and you just had a panic attack, Skye. You need to sleep.”

You sigh again and stare resolutely, though half-lidded, at a point beyond his right shoulder. You feel absolutely drained.

You weren’t exactly in full possession of your faculties earlier, and though you’re significantly less panicked, it feels like your skull is full of cotton. Everything seems to pass through like air.

“Not alone,” is the one condition you provide. You hope it sounds like it’s non negotiable. Because it isn’t. Falling asleep alone in this house, with all its windowed walls, would have been unnerving enough.

“Okay,” Jane says, after a second. “Can you stand on your own?”

Though you can, after being given the space to do so, you have to lean against him to actually walk.

“I think I was drugged,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on your feet. “I can’t think.”

Jane hums, but doesn’t offer any more of an answer than that. If you could just fathom the roads of your thoughts into a map, maybe you could figure out what that’s supposed to mean. You can’t, so you let it go. You’re slowly escorted to a double bed with the sheets peeled back. When Jane sits you down at the edge of the bed, it takes most of the energy you have left to turn around.

His fingers are warm when you feel them at your back, but they don’t move. You’re about to ask what’s wrong–or at least why he stopped–when you hear Jane pull away, followed by the rustling of clothes.

Your heart jumps into your throat and stays there.

“What are you–” You get cut off when arms circle around you and drape a very familiar button down across your front.

All you can think of is that it smells almost unbearably like him.

Warm hands are at your back again, and this time the zipper is slid down. Jane brushes the straps of your dress down your shoulders before stepping back again.

“You step out of your dress after you’ve put the shirt on,” he says quietly. “I’ll turn around until you say.”

You nod, mostly to yourself. Okay. Sure. Modesty. This is normal. This is what normal people who are adults and not in a relationship do. This is fine.

God, when was the last time literally anything was fine?

You swallow past the lump in your throat and slip the straps off your arms. Loop them into the sleeves and button the shirt from your sternum down. Sit on the edge of the bed properly and tug your dress off your legs from beneath the shirt. Keep your eyes on the floor the entire time.

“I’m–you’re good,” you stutter, playing with the edge of starched sleeves. And lift your eyes.

You absolutely refuse to look too closely at why your stomach feels like it’s doing its best impression of the Cirque du Soleil and immediately look away. It’s hard to breathe again.

This is what normal people who are adults and not in a relationship do. This is fine.

Jane says nothing as he walks up to you. Leans over to pull more of the comforter down, and you fixate on the nearest collarbone. He straightens only to place a hand on your shoulder and one at the back of your head–guiding you down until your head meets the pillow. Carefully gathers your legs and tucks them underneath the comforter.

His eyes don’t leave yours the entire time.

He only turns around once he’s brought the sheets up past your chest, and moves to the corner of the room to grab a chair. Brings it next to you when you lay in the bed.

“You can’t–Jane there’s no way I’m making you sleep in a chair in your own house,” you start to argue, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“I’d keep you awake,” is the answer he offers. There’s nothing to read in his tone or his face, again. Just a blank statement that you’re perfectly at liberty of interpreting however you want.

“I’m in a bed I’ve never been in before in a house where…” You trail off. The fog in your head might be so thick you’d need a chisel to cut through it, but even now you can tell that bringing up murder is a bad idea. “In a house where I feel like a fish in a tank.”

Jane exhales sharply, akin to a laugh, but lets his hand rest on the pillow next to your head.

“You won’t be alone,” he says calmly. Knowingly. Bite your lip and turn to your side, to face him, and carefully put your hand in his.

It’s nice, for some reason. Seeing your hand in his. Seeing his dwarf yours.

“Sleep, Skye.” Jane settles into his chair, lets his head rest against the back and lets his other arm rest in his lap. Closes his eyes. “You can tell me everything in the morning.”

You huff–annoyed, confused, amused–but close your eyes, too.

And if you don’t dream of anything, when your heart finally calms down and you can finally slip into unconsciousness. It may have something to do with the warm body you wake up wrapped around in the morning.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the next update :)

@fucklife-or-me @newavenger @yearningforsappho @mamacakeishereforfun

#honey and the hatchet #the mentalist #patrick jane #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane fanfiction #patrick jane fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #patrick jane x named reader #no y/n #there's kissing #this is the slowest burn in the history of slow burns #worse than the frog in the cauldron

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maddgical-boy · 8 days

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remakin my pinned post bc i love spending hours on fun formats. anyways

⸝⸝⊂➜﹒it's me! ⊃⸝⸝

mark/vinny ☆ he/him ☆ minor (strictly 18+ only blogs block me)

hello all! here i post about all things daydreaming-related, as well as some self insert stuff since there is big overlap there for me.

i have mainly fictparacosms (paracosms of existing fictional media). i'm kinda shy about them so i don't discuss them as much but please be respectful when i do. they do not always line up with canon and i just want to be happy and have a fun time since my life is sad. :)

❤️ this blog is a safe space for all madders/iders and whatever you daydream about. even if it's considered really dark nasty shit, and even if it's willingly! fiction is fiction my friends. ❤️

feel free to send asks about my paracosms or about yours! tumblr is buggy and i am chronically ill so i may not get to it right away, but rest easy knowing each ask is treasured in my heart <3 i'm shy but i want to interact with you all

if you want to see more of my silly self talking about other random things, my main is @thecrimeofmans-laughter!

below are paracosms & tags!

paracosms ☁︎‎‎‧₊˚*𖦹

these fluctuate in and out of how relevant they are to me, especially because god cursed my interests to wholly take over my life and then suddenly evaporate like sweat. this is also why i have random mini paracosms that only come out of hibernation if my hyperfixation does too! lmao

───-> ORIGINAL

■ queerer things still — five teens learn of the magical secret realms on earth and travel through them to uncover the main para (enya liao)'s mysterious past. all of them have magical powers and all of them have emotional baggage that they are eventually forced to deal with by fighting monsters that target their greatest weaknesses. everything is weird and also everything is queer (hence the name).

───-> FICTPARACOSMS

■ arrows of shield — big crossover between marvel's agents of shield and the cw's arrowverse. at the center of it all is me, because i am awesome. (and because i need to cope with life.) the only other teenagers (and original paras) are cicero (an entity meant to deal with all emotional and physical pains) and jessop jiang (a boy from the typical 60s american suburb who accidentally killed his mother).

■ the super happy life of akemi ōtani — a blanket paracosm for all daydreams involving any of koei's musou warriors games (that i have played, which is dw8, sw2, 4, 4ii, and 5, and wo4). the name is from one of my two samurai warriors ocs, as she has a very normal, happy life with her dad and sister that is absolutely not besieged by period-typical war. (also my icon on this blog is of nō, who is a character from sw5! she's in her dlc outfit. i love her)

■ yttd paracosm 2 — i don't have a name for this one yet shhh. anyway have you ever theorized that shunsuke hayasaka is sue miley's mysterious fiancé and then made a yttd sona that has become separate from you and is also their adopted child and is also dating ranmaru kageyama and then spent way too much time rewriting the lore of the game to fit this change? that's what this is. (my first yttd paracosm is asunaroland which isn't as major anymore but yeah. i have 2 of these fuckers)

tags i'll use ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

i love using tags i love organizing i love formatting i love archiving ＼(^▽^＠)ノ ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ ~(≧◇≦)/ﾞﾞﾞ

my original posts -> #mark stops daydreaming for a sec.txt

answering asks -> #mark answers asks, #ask game answers | feel free to send in something from my ask game!

vents about madd -> #madd vent, #intrusive daydreaming | all of these are ok to rb

positivity about daydreaming -> #positivity <3

my art -> #martk | other art is on my toyhouse and instagram

useful madd-related things -> #useful

anything not daydreaming-related, for whatever reason -> #not madd

...and probably other tags i'm forgetting! yayyy!!

all paracosms and paras are tagged #like this* to avoid anything (like fictpara stuff) showing up in big public tags because i am Scared

dividers: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#EDIT: you rebloggers didn't tell me that i wrote 7 clouds in the image descriptions when there are 9???? 😭 help me lord i am tired today #mark stops daydreaming for a sec.txt #maladaptive daydreaming #immersive daydreaming #madd #don't mind me sometimes the goblin in my brain that really likes searching through aesthetic dividers and pretty text formats takes over

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heraldofcrow · 9 months

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Okay, now it is YOUR turn to talk about what your Laurence's (eventual?) vices/flaws are! There is a general theme of Laurence having good intentions but growing corrupt, but at the same time something's always unique and all. I reckon yours is an impulsive and arrogant asshole of sorts, but what else / how can it be elaborated?

OH INDEED.

Fucking Kotya lmao

Ok, so…I drew this pic literally to answer these asks, because I figured a portrait of young Laurence looking all ✨ambitious✨ would suit the whole thing, so here.

Free art for u

I am now recieving reports that he looks like Light Yagami from Deathnote even though I have only seen a few pictures of Light in my life and I also totally drew inspiration for this design from a totally different character but ANYWAY

Lol. Ok, now for the headcanons!

My Laurence is pretty straightforward. He has rich kid with a chronic illness syndrome. That’s it. Bam. (I’m kdding. Kind of).

In all seriousness, from day one I saw Laurence as someone that was born into wealth and into a different lifestyle from most people. That’s why the “he’s from Cainhurst” thing was perfect for me, because yeah, of course he is. He comes off like that. (I’ll get to the chronic illness thing).

I’m not just going on some “billionaires can be careless individuals that wreck people’s lives because they can’t fathom being poor or desperate or barred from certain privileges” rant…but I am acknowledging what I see as one of Laurence’s biggest issues, and that’s…well…he’s too reckless with human life. I don’t even think it’s entirely sinister or intentional, but he simply doesn’t get it. He thinks he can treat the world like a lab experiment and everything will be just fine.

(This is also why I think Micolash was more deprived as a child, because he’s sacrificial with human life in a more deliberate way. He’s desperate as hell and is willing to brutalize countless people to reach the top. That urge and drive to even reach a higher plane just screams “lack” to me. Micolash wanted to claw his way out of the slums, but I won’t go into that now and if anyone dares suggest I am saying that less privileged people are more cutthroat, I am NOT. This applies to a very specific type of bastard ffs 💀).

Oh and, since we are not just going over flaws in light of me answering both your asks, I will give more detail on my headcanons for Laurie’s background. After all, it also ties into the flaws discussion.

—

Bakckground 🔱

So. For some background context, I headcanon that Laurence’s father was, in fact, That Guy we always point out (Beltran) on the portraits and for the same reasons you do.

Credit to you for the reference obviously, but that pendant…the Cainhurst/Yharnam/Healing Church links…well, yeah. We know.

Anyway, so Beltran was a pretty famous Cainhurst academic professor and research expert on the Pthumerian genetics of the Cains in particular. (When I say I think Cainhurst was full of experimental scholars around the time Byrgenwerth was founded, I am dead serious. I SWEAR IT MAKES SENSE. Byrgenwerth and Cainhurst. Two sides of the same coin, my friend.)

Anyway, Beltran was married to a non-royal but wealthy lady from Hemwick that descended from a Loranite family that happened to be full of priests and seers. Yippeee!

This couple’s only child was Laurence, and he was raised in their oh-so-fancy rich lifestyle where the father was constantly being invited to snobby scholarly events and the mother was holding tea-centered socials in their lavish mansion parlors. Like ya do.

I picture Laurence growing up trying to fit in with his parents’ lifestyle like this:

Lmao, so long story short…it wasn’t his thing. He didn’t quite vibe with the snobby richies he grew up with.

In fact, I like the idea that he absolutely hated his parents’ high class world and felt that they expected too much from him. He was too restricted and stifled. They expected him to be them. His mother was strict, disapproving and nagging; his father was absent-minded and a bit too focused on his life’s work, which, when he wasn’t lost in, was the only thing he tried to connect with Laurence on.

“You should be a great scholar too, Laurence!! Uh hur hur.”

This is where Laurence started to rebel and go his own route, while also developing plenty of complexes along the way (of course). He would be a better academic, better influential figure, better leader, better plutocratic socialite, etc., oh yes. His parents would see.

He had all the makings of these things too, because despite bucking against his childhood influences, he was ,quite frankly, obsessed with enriching study, scientific pursuit, old mythologies and religions, etc.. He loved the world of academia. He was fond of the ancient tales of glorious heroes and scholars that changed the world for the better, and he often fancied himself one of those “types.”

I even like the idea that he discovered the (Bloodborne equivalent) tale of of Saint Laurence the Martyr and saw it as a sign that he was destined for greatness. He tended to reference lofty epics and historical novels in everyday discussion to add a sense of meaning and grandeur to everything. He didn’t want to live a common, mundane life. He wanted to live a glorious one.

And one of the key contributing factors to this mindset Laurence had was his own chronic illness.

Now, this is my favorite thing to headcanon actually because it fits so well??

As a child, Laurence developed early on what I consider to be Cystic Fibrosis, and had horrible lung issues for most of his life. When he was young, the doctors told him and his parents that his life expectancy was likely to be about 30 years. (In the real world, this was actually the life expectancy not too long ago).

Knowing this, and being disappointed in his doctors for not providing any sort of cure, was the catalyst for half of Laurence’s ambitions. He only had so much time to live life, and he was determined to leave his mark on the world…and maybe also find a cure. Yasss bestie!!

—

Byrgenwerth 🍎

Laurence’s parents sent him off to Byrgenwerth at 16 to gain an intense and long-term education from Yharnam’s leading scholars. He went with Ludwig, a childhood friend.

A bit on my Laurence/Ludwig headcanon to add context:

The two had both grown up somewhere near Hemwick, and while Laurence lived in a more isolated, wealthy world, Ludwig was a sturdy farm boy that had helped to keep his family’s ranch afloat after losing their larger fortune. While they had come from Cainhurst in previous generations, family chains of bad habits and broken ties led to a lower class lifestyle for Ludwig’s parents.

Laurence personally knew that Ludwig was a primary caretaker for his parents and many siblings. He was a good, loyal kid, and it was through him that Laurence learned empathy for people with less fortune than himself. I mean, Ludwig would drag Laurence around to visit neighbors and even donate to those that were struggling with money like it was nothing, and I think this is where Laurence started to “feel” for the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, his arrogant streak also tainted it with a sense of, “See! Look how good of a person I am!”

(I think Ludwig did have an impact on him though, so it was always a mix of self-righteousness and a genuine desire to help others. He would have also admired Ludwig and secretly envied his…dead-honest heart for those in need).

Ok. Going back to the storyline, and considering this bond that Laurence and Ludwig shared, here we have them at Byrgenwerth. Laurence was already planning his great ascension into glory and sleepy Ludwig is just happy to be there with his friend and to have been lucky enough to even attend by the graces of a family friend. Yipeee!

My Laurence was at his most fiery and impetuous at Byrgenwerth as a young teen/young adult. He was passionate, talkative, charismatic, fierce, etc., and he made quick work of getting to know everyone in the school right away. They couldn’t escape him. To Laurence, every other student was a potential ally and “part” in the epic tale of his life.

(This was also when Laurence and Ludwig met Gehrman, who was basically Byrgenwerth’s most well-known “security guard” when it came to warding off beasts or general supernatural weirdness. Gehrman was this odd, older kid in his 20s with an insane skillset. He was already an infamous hunter and Laurence greatly admired his bravery. He and Ludwig sought out the antisocial weirdo that was always hiding in the woods and adopted him into their friend group. Aaaand that’s where all the trouble began lol).

Soon, everyone in Byrgenwerth held some kind of connection to Laurence. Rom, Micolash, Maria, Caryll, Damian, Yurie, etc., and they all had their own thoughts and feelings on the brash auburn scholar. He was a handful to be sure. In a way, Ludwig was the only one that could ever “hold Laurence back” a bit, but only in a very brotherly, good-natured manner.

That’s the thing too; people liked Laurence a lot. He was popular, but they could also hate him or grow tired of him. He knew how to be charming and how to talk others up by pointing out their strengths, but then he could turn around and be so arrogant, self-centered, and envious that it would irk his audience.

They wanted to be apart of the grand tale he was telling them that he planned to weave, but they also wanted him to just shut up sometimes; if that makes sense. He was a bit of an endearing, irritating, egoist with a lot of outward appeal and an inward intrigue.

His true friends also knew that he was secretly very insecure around people he didn’t trust or know, and would be vulnerable on occasion with those he did trust. That bit of heart he could show is what proved to his friends that he wasn’t actually a total impulsive snob. He cared. He just also wanted to prove himself to the world and literally everyone in it.

“I swear, you guys don’t realize how important I am to the modern age yet!!”

After years of studying and researching his beloved histories and mythologies, he began to take an interest in medical science, archeology, and the mysterious history Yharnam had with Pthumerians.

His illness also grew worse as his thirties approached. He began to study directly under Provost Willem, and that’s when the board was set with all the right pieces.

—

The Church and Research Hall 💉

Ah, here we go.

I think, for obvious reasons at this point, Laurence’s interest in the ancient records of the Pthumerians and their superhuman traits was to be expected. It was exactly what he was looking for.

Divine blood? A link between gods and men? Ascension? It all seemed like the earth-shattering discoveries he had dreamt of all his life; it seemed like the dream of changing the world for the better, making an impact, and even the subtle hope of finding a cure for chronic illness. Needless to say, Laurence was fixated. Willem was right there with him.

Laurence was an assistant professor to Willem by that point and they began to experiment with all of our lovely blood and eyes in the Research Hall. I love the thought you have expressed before about testing antidotes during that stage as well; something Laurence would have been interested in.

Laurence, with all his bright ideas, was the one to suggest a Church as a way to distribute and test their research. Willem agreed, and that’s where our beta Healing Church began. Laurence wasn’t really a religious person himself, but Yharnam thrived on it and he was smart enough to know that religious authority was absolutely an asset, one that he could peacefully utilize to spread his influence and agendas.

He knew Yharnam had always believed in the Great Ones, and discovering a holy medium to use as proof of their interference was everything they needed.

Now, moving on with the lore implications that we have discovered about Byrgenwerth and the Church having been united at one point, AND the subsequent schism having been more of an internal divergence within that union rather than the precedent to a direct, dramatic academic/religious split…let’s jump ahead a bit…

Post-Fishing Hamlet and Byrgenwerth schism Laurence was someone a little more cold and cutthroat. He was still impulsive, but his spitfire characteristics were tamer, more subdued…he had taken up the authority of the Healing Church, reluctantly separated from Willem, and dealt with the aftermath of the Fishing Hamlet—something he absolutely felt guilt over, but was too afraid to acknowledge. He hid everything. All that mattered was what the blood could give him.

There was also a new burning drive in his heart upon reaching his thirties, which he had never expected to see. The blood had seemingly lessened the effects of his Fibrosis and acted as a temporary cure. It was his salvation and the salvation of Yharnam. Totally. 100%

Nothing will go wrong.

—

Yharnam’s Downfall 🩸

We know how things went down from here, but Laurence by this point was, I guess you could say, at his lowest and worst. The mistakes he had made in his earlier years with the Hamlet, the Schism, and the Research Hall were catching up to him, and as Yharnam began to gradually grow worse under the blood ministration, Laurence grew worse with it.

In the public eye, he was a gracious and holy figure that distributed alms and medicines to those in need, who endlessly made promises he probably wouldn’t keep, but everyone that believed him would be dead before they even understood that. Behind closed doors, things were different.

He was harsher with his colleagues, heavily depressed, and more desperate than ever. His illness was like a reoccurring nightmare; something that reared its ugly head in the worst moments and sent him into darker, more hellish states of mind. He suppressed it every time, taking more and more blood to heal himself, but he wasn’t stupid. (I think?)

He knew that the blood wasn’t working the way he thought it was supposed to. It was temporary, brief, fleeting…and if anything, it affected his pscyhe for the worse. He was becoming more paranoid, more withdrawn and bitter. Like a solitary beast. (Omg foreshadowing!)

Most of his old friends either left him, betrayed him directly, or simply tolerated him from that point on. Gehrman was too miserable in those days to draw close to anyone, and Ludwig himself was sinking deeper into self-loathing and disillusionment. Willem was gone, Rom was doing Rom things, Yurie and Caryll were gone…Micolash had become somewhat of a monster, and Maria was strongly opposed to most of what Laurence stood for.

He had lost most of the old ties that had saturated his Byrgenwerth days, and needless to say, it took its toll. This is when Brador came into the picture, but you remember that whole headcanon I’m sure ;)

This is when all bets were off. Laurence was angry, grieved, condemned, and vengeful. Bro went ballistic.

He ordered the Cainhurst massacre, he allowed more unethical experiments in the Church walls, he tolerated the mistreatment of certain people groups in Yharnam, and eventually he oversaw the burning of Old Yharnam. He hid most of his sins too, hiring assassins and spies to take care of any prying eyes.

This was the ruthless, cruel Laurence that the fandom loves, but I don’t personally see him as having been gloating or laughing through it. I think he was giving himself to hatred and self-hatred, abusing his public image to allow a certain amount of “justified” mercilessness. I also can absolutely see him being paranoid out of his mind.

His former desires to appear as a heroic figure were twisted into these evil decisions as Vicar, but there was also a side to his determination that was fueled by the notion of “If this world is going to be so unfair and unkind, I’ll wrest order from it, I’ll bring us to glory if it kills us.”

This was his true downfall. BAD LAURENCE. BAD.

The End 🔥

Yharnam was ruined.

Broken down, defeated, and heartsick…Laurence had lost everything. Cainhurst was gone, Hemwick lay in ruins, Old Yharnam’s people were given to the plague, and every old friend Laurence had known had fallen into darkness. Ludwig was dead, Maria was dead, Willem was in a vegetative state, Rom had ascended, Caryll was dead, and Micolash had lost his mind in Yahar’gul.

I also have this theory that not long before the time of his transformation, Laurence discovered that his mother had been living in Cainhurst when the massacre had taken place. His father had died years earlier, and he had not exactly been devastated considering he barely knew the man, but Laurence’s mother, for all of her cold-heartedness, had been a relevant presence in his life. Knowing that he had been the cause of her death threw him into despair and even further regret.

His sickness also finally came through despite all the blood consumption. Blood itself was something Laurence began to regularly cough up as his lungs ruptured. He was going to die soon and he knew it. He was also possibly on the verge of something worse. The bestial taints of his flesh were omens he could not ignore.

That’s when Laurence finally shattered and accepted his fate. He had achieved…a lot. None of it good. Brador pitilessly remarked that nobody would consider him a good man even after his death, and Laurence lamented the dream he once had of dying in a sacrificial, heroic death in flames like the ancient Saint Laurence had done.

The greatest sacrifice he could make was to die, and spare the world from any further ruin, Brador said. He would never be a saint, but he could still die a martyr’s death. An ironic, perverse variation of one.

Laurence’s final action was to summon the Moon in a last-ditch effort to gain Flora’s help, to help the heart-broken Gehrman bring Maria back, to plead for mercy and freedom from the curse of beasts. Laurence promised Gehrman that they would fix everything, that it would all be made well if the Hunt continued. Gehrman believed in Laurence and the promise, but the latter did not. He knew it was over.

The Moon descended, Gehrman vanished into the Dream, Old Yharnam burned, and Laurence turned at last, accepting his demise. Brador finished him off with fire and blood, beheading him afterwards and wearing his scalp as a twisted symbol forever after. Laurence was in his fifties and had truly died a grand martyr’s death. He got everything he wanted. Yipeee!

—

THERE I DID IT! Damn, I am glad you made me do this, because even though I always really liked Laurence, I never quite loved him. I hadn’t done the character deep-dive yet, but this?? This did it.

I love the reckless, spitfire teen/young adult Laurence of Byrgenwerth, the kid that wanted so badly to prove himself to the world and change things for the better, who wanted to trump his own lifelong illness, and who wanted to be better than the people that raised him. He was arrogant yes, but he was admirable to others in his sheer force of will to succeed and conquer life. I love the idea that he wanted his life to be like an epic, full of heroism and sacrifice.

I don’t think he ever initially used people, and I don’t think he lacked empathy. He had learned it from his friends and from simply observing the world. Yes, he was insecure and envious of others that seemed better than him, but he also vocally expressed genuine support and encouragement on their behalf. They were characters in the story too! They had valuable parts to play! (Oh the irony).

Yes, he was careless with human life. He was simply ignorant as a youth because of his upbringing wherein the “elite” were the ones that decided the fate of others. That carelessness turned sinister only in his later years when he began to lose sympathy for the world. Yes, he made a grave mistake in that.

But there was always remorse. Laurence’s heart was not buried. He regretted every needless death, every failed experiment. He may not have admitted it until just before his death, but he was never entirely without shame. Guilt wasn’t something the heroes in his favorite tales were supposed to feel.

I love all of the symbolism that can permeate his character as well. Blood in health and illness, the forbidden fruit that is dangled to lure men into beasthood, the antlers he carries as a beast, which are symbolic of a glorious crown in most interpretations, etc..

Just how he burns with hellfire, wearing this ironic crown, a sign of his perfectly orchestrated downfall. It’s beautiful.

I love him. You made me love him by writing about him. Congrats lol. Hope this answered all your questions about his flaws and the headcanons!!

Au revoir!

#I DID IT FINALLYYYYY #WOOHOO!!#this felt great #i love this character now like officially #it took a while to click but i see it now…i get it fandom #i wish things were…a little different in the neighborhood and everyone could share without feeling judged but anyway i won’t go into that #hope you like it Katy and that it was worth the wait!!#:D #laurence the first vicar #bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #CrowSketch #long post #gif warning #asks

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