#& here i am now excommunicated from anyone who used to care about me

[cryingcow]

Character Story - Yayoi [RGGO]

I’m gonna stop simping over Zhongli for now and post this XD For our next beautiful lady: the one and only surviving sword mom in the series! :D

Story: After Terada dies, someone needs to be the Fifth Acting Chairman.

Kashiwagi: “Since Terada got murdered and I got attacked and whoever is the leader now would most likely get killed, I would like your son Daigo to be the Fifth Acting Chairman.”

Yayoi: “. . . You’re not exactly being persuasive here.”

.

CHAPTER 1

.

|In 2006, five years after getting arrested for violating the Firearms and Swords Act, Dojima Daigo went to Osaka to take revenge against God Ryuji. Daigo, who was excommunicated from the clan and abandoned by his former friends, devotes himself to a life of drinking alone.|

Daigo: “Oi . . . I’m out of liquor.”

Waiter: “Y-Yes . . . Here you go.”

Daigo: “. . .”

Yayoi: “. . . Daigo.”

Daigo: “. . . Why did you come here.”

Yayoi: “Even though everything’s over . . . how long do you plan on living like this? It wasn’t Kiryu who killed that person . . . you already know that. Did Kiryu really leave the Tojo Clan? In that case, you shouldn’t be drinking.”

Daigo: “. . . I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please go home.”

Yayoi: “What did you say . . . ?”

Daigo: “Whatever I’m doing has nothing to do with you.”

Yayoi: “Nothing to do with me . . . ? It’s natural for parents to worry about their son.”

Daigo: “Hmph . . . now it’s just the mother’s side.”

Yayoi: “! . . .”

[Daigo gets up and leaves.}

Yayoi: “Daigo . . . !”

----

Yayoi: “. . . Mother’s side.”

Yayoi: (. . . It’s no wonder Daigo says that. Since long ago, I and that person have made Daigo feel very lonely because of the clan . . . Now, I’m not the one who can guide that child. Only Kiryu . . . can do it . . .)

Malicious Catcher: “Good evening Onee-san! What’s with the wrinkles between your eyebrows~? Is something wrong? Do you want to be surrounded by good-looking guys? Huh?”

Yayoi: “Get lost. I’m in a bad mood right now.”

Malicious Catcher: “Huh? Don’t say that, won’t you join us? Well? Come on!”

Yayoi: “Hmph. . . . Don’t complain if you die.”

{Yayoi presumably stabs the guy several times.}

Malicious Catcher: “Hiiii!! M-Murderer!! She isn’t human! Somebody help~!”

Yayoi: “. . . Tch.”

----

Yayoi: (What am I going to do with Daigo . . .)

?: “Guh . . . !”

Yayoi: “Hm . . . ?”

Kashiwagi: “Haa . . . Haa . . .”

Yayoi: “Kashiwagi . . . ?! Kashiwagi, there’s blood on your arm . . . ! Wait right there, I’ll do first aid. Let’s get you to a hospital quick.”

Kashiwagi: “No, it’s fine now. I’m sorry Neesan . . . guh . . . !”

Yayoi: “. . . What on earth happened?”

Kashiwagi: “I was ambushed earlier.  . . . by a killer from the Omi Alliance.”

Yayoi: “Omi . . . ?!”

.

-END-

.

CHAPTER 2

Yayoi: “Someone from the Omi Alliance tried to kill you . . . ? What do you mean?”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Actually, the Fifth Chairman was shot today by someone from the Omi Alliance.”

Yayoi: “Terada . . . ?!”

Kashiwagi: “Yes . . . He was immediately transported by an ambulance, but . . . he died.”

Yayoi: “What’s that . . . ?”

Kashiwagi: “The head family will be happy to have support from you, so I was looking for you with regards that matter. But in the middle of doing that, I was attacked by a hitman, and this is what happened. The Omi is trying to crush us in one go.”

Yayoi: “Is that so . . . so why were you looking for me?”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Neesan, I have something to discuss with you.”

Man with Kansai Dialect: “Found you, Kashiwagi!”

Kashiwagi: “. . . tch. Did they chase me down?”

Yayoi: “Kashiwagi. Is this the guy who hurt you?”

Kashiwagi: “Yeah . . . he caught me off guard.”

Omi Hitman: “This time I’ll stab you, Acting Captain of the Tojo Clan!”

{Yayoi and Kashiwagi kick their ass.}

Omi Hitman: “Damn it . . . !”

Kazama Family: “Boss!”

Omi Hitman: “. . . tch, are those reinforcements?”

{The hitman runs away.}

Kazama Family Member A: “Wait!”

Kazama Family member B: “Boss! Are you okay?”

Kashiwagi: “Yeah, they just got my arm. You guys . . . don’t tell anyone about this. I want to avoid making the flames of war even bigger.”

Kazama Family member B: “. . . Yes, boss.”

Kashiwagi: “Let’s go somewhere else, Neesan. We can’t talk here.”

----

Bar Master: “Take your time . . .”

Yayoi: “. . . So, Kashiwagi. What’s this story you have to tell me?”

Kashiwagi: “. . . I’ll be straightforward. I would like to ask Daigo to be the Fifth Acting Chairman.”

Yayoi: “Daigo as Acting Chairman . . . ?!”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Yes.”

Yayoi: “You . . . after what happened between Daigo and the Omi . . . ?!”

Kashiwagi: “. . . I am well aware of that. The Fifth Chairman was killed, and even I, acting as the Junior Head, was attacked . . . To be the ‘face’ of the head family now would be like walking up to the execution stand.”

Yayoi: “. . . And knowing that, you want to put it on Daigo’s back . . .”

Kashiwagi: “The Tojo Clan is currently a mess. But the Omi will not wait for us. We need someone to be a monolith as soon as possible. To do that, we need a suitable leader. I’m ashamed to say, but it can’t be me. But Daigo is a vessel that people can rely on. He will surely pull the Tojo Clan together. So, I wanted to talk to you about it first. Please . . . please understand.”

Yayoi: “. . . I understand what you’re saying. Then, I have a suggestion. Will you listen?”

Kashiwagi: “A suggestion . . . ?”

.

-END-

.

CHAPTER 3

Kashiwagi: “. . . Neesan, is that really okay?”

Yayoi: “Yeah. I’m not going back on my word.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Understood.”

Yayoi: “But, can you give me some time?”

----

Daigo: “Oi! I’m out of alcohol! Bring more quickly!”

Man in Black Clothes: “C-Customer, if you drink too much . . . !”

{Yayoi and Kashiwagi appear.}

Daigo: “?! . . .”

Daigo: “Why is Kashiwagi-san here?”

Yayoi: “. . . Daigo. There’s something we want to tell you.”

Daigo: “. . . I don’t want to talk to you.”

Kashiwagi: “Daigo . . . be careful of how you talk.”

Daigo: “Shut up. I don’t want to get involved with anything anymore-”

{Yayoi slaps Daigo.}

Daigo: “Guh?!”

Kashiwagi: “Ah, Neesan . . . !”

Yayoi: “You don’t need to get involved, Kashiwagi. Club Manager, I’m sorry, but I’m going to rampage. Stand up, Daigo. I’m not saying this to you as a parent. I’m just angry with the idiot who drinks alone at this time.”

Daigo: “. . . What did you call me . . . !”

Yayoi: “Come on, clench your teeth!!”

{Yayoi whoops Daigo’s ass.}

Daigo: “Guh . . . !”

Yayoi: “You’re an idiot. You’re so drunk you can’t even walk properly.”

Yayoi: “. . . Daigo, Terada’s dead.”

Daigo: “. . .”

Yayoi: “He was killed by men from the Omi Alliance.  . . . There could be war.”

Daigo: “. . . So what. Are you telling me to go back?”

Yayoi: “. . . I’ve decided to become the Acting Chairman. I came here to tell you that.”

Daigo: “Acting Chairman . . . ?! Are you really saying . . . ?!”

Yayoi: “Yes. I’ll be taking over Terada’s position starting today. I will organize the Tojo Clan.”

Daigo: “What are you thinking?! I don’t think that’s sane . . .”

Yayoi: “Of course I’m aware of the danger. But I have no choice but to do this. So . . .”

Daigo: “You . . . I’m wondering what you can do for the clan.”

Yayoi: “. . . Daigo. I’ve been prepared for all this since I became his wife. Now . . . is the time.”

Daigo: “Guh . . . !!”

Yayoi: “. . . I just came by to say this. Let’s go, Kashiwagi.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Yes.”

----

Yayoi: “. . .”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Is it okay, Neesan? Not to tell Daigo the truth.”

Yayoi: “It’s fine.”

Yayoi: “Then, I have a suggestion. Will you listen?”

Kashiwagi: “A suggestion . . . ?”

Yayoi: “Yes. The position of Acting Chairman . . . I want to take it on.”

Kashiwagi: “Neesan . . . ?!”

Yayoi: “Am I lacking the power?”

Kashiwagi: “. . . No. The breakthrough of the Dojima Family is only possible with the support of Neesan. Everyone knows that. You have a lot of trust from those at the bottom, and the perfect qualities to stand on top . . . I have no complaints. But . . . is that okay?”

Yayoi: “Like Daigo, I too have the qualities to carry the head family on my back. But for that child . . . he needs time to recover. It’s true that it is the role of parents to help their children.  . . . But I can’t do that. So . . . I want to offer up my life to give him that time. This is what I’ll do as the parent of my child.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Neesan . . .”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Awkward people, both Daigo and Neesan.”

Yayoi: “Heh . . . that person was the same. Well, let’s go. Isn’t the head family huge? I need to start deciding future policies soon.  . . . I’m counting on you, Kashiwagi.”

Kashiwagi: “Yes. Your humble servant Kashiwagi will do his best to protect you, Fifth Acting Chairman!”

.

-END-

 Masterlist

#tfw your mom steals your job because you're cringe :( #poll again: Goromi or Nishida for the next? #Goromi's is about her time at Shine before Kiryu arrives #Nishida's has him and Majima hitting each other with bats #rgg online #rggo lore #rggo #rgg #Ryu ga Gotoku #yakuza #yayoi dojima #daigo dojima #kashiwagi osamu

[fuckingrealityshifting]

About religions that are incompatible with shifting, Jehovah’s Witnesses are not allowed to shift because of how they interpret Luke 11:24-26. Meditation techniques that clear the head are considered invitations for demon possession, and are considered a form of spiritism. If a member is found doing that kind of thing, it could lead to shunning and excommunication. Any JWs who want to shift should be careful that they’re not discovered.

I did not know that, thank you very much for telling me!

I’m so sorry because I know/think this is disrespectful but,, please be careful in that religion if you’re part of it because it’s,, such a cult. I love y’all and want you to be safe!!

How to hide you’re a shifter

You do not need to hide you’re a shifter unless there’s a reason. I cannot stress this enough. Do not hide unless there is a significant reason.

Please do not get in the habit of hiding it without reason. Shifting isn’t wrong, it’s not evil, and I’d rather not accidentally encourage secretive, worrying behavior about what we’re doing. Someone pointed out that telling shifters absolutely not to tell anyone is cultish behavior and I agree.

You can tell as many people you want if you know they’re tolerant. You can tell anyone if you know they won’t put you in danger, mentally or physically or anything. Just be safe.

But if you’re in a situation you need to hide shifting or spirituality or any activity online for your safety, here are some tips off the top of my head/stuff I remember from the Internet that you can feel free to correct me on:

Incognito

Now, I don’t think Incognito mode hides your activity from the router history tech savvy people can check. But, search history vanishes from your device, I believe.

Use different browsers

Keep the automatic or a more recognizable one—safari, chrome, whichever—and download another one to use for more sensitive stuff like shifting. Don’t keep it on the bar of favorite or easily accessible apps. If someone checks your search history, they’ll be more likely to only check the obvious one. Personally, I use DuckDuckGo or Ecosia. Also hide the sensitive browser tab in other app folders if you can.

Clear your search history only of suspicious stuff

Don’t clear your entire search history—that looks suspicious when it’s squeaky clean when someone is trying to check. Try and go through and clear only spirituality, magickal, and shifting pages, and the search history page itself. Try to clear it often so you don’t miss something. Maybe clear at the end of every day or every couple hours.

Drown out unhideable stuff

You’re in a shifting discord? Join a bunch of discords the people around you would approve of. Try and place the shifting one not at the exact end but fairly close to it, it’s like a magic spot where people really start to skim when you’re scrolling through a bunch of stuff. Same applies for amino, etc. You have an app for meditation? Use a shortcut that opens the app, make it look like a calculator or a background app or soemthing, match name it’s name to the fake app icon. If it’s a calculator probably don’t put it next to your actual calculator. If you can’t shortcut the app, or even if you can, hide it in a mobile game folder or something, near the bottom of the screen and after swiping a few times, or hide it in a folder with boring background apps and make sure to name it utilities or whatever. Surround it with similarly colored apps.

Vpn?

This is probably more for anonymous browsing online but it might possibly hide it from the router history? I am really not sure though, so go and search it yourself.

Free wifi places?

I think if you’re connected to a different wifi network it won’t show on your router? Still don’t quote me on that. So maybe (assuming COVID is safe in your area) go for a walk, sit around a Starbucks or something, and use the free wifi to search about spirituality and shifting and such.

Proxy website?

I don’t understand what a proxy website or whatever is so I have no idea of this is legitimate or not but this website talks about it??

#shifting #shiftblr #reality shifting #jehovah’s witnesses #anti jehovah’s witnesses #is that what I should tag?? #does it need to be tagged??? #privacy #online safety tips #online safety #unreality #cult mention #cult cw #religion cw #religion mention #privacy tips

[lilkrumpja]

An open letter to the admins of a facebook group about Romani “education” who so kindly informed me that romanipen was “often misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic and promoting of rape culture” as well as some other -ics that I’m not even going to legitimize:

It finally happened. Romani discourse got me to delete my facebook. It wasn’t even the “fauxmani police” you guys constantly bemoan either, it was YOU.

First, hello. I am a transgender person. Sorry I didn’t herald this information with a huge banner on my profile pic or make dozens of tiktoks about it, but I am. There is a good chance I’ve been out and medically transitioning longer than you’ve known you had Roma heritage. But while we’re on the topic of allies attempting to educate people on their own marginalization like we don’t already know better than you ever will -

I believe the words used were “we need to adapt, or we will die”.........first off who is we? Roma got by for centuries without you. Without all of us. Nobody needs your advice. This may hurt your feelings, but people who are reconnecting to Romani culture for any reason need to remember their place within it. It doesn’t matter why any of us grew up outside the culture. The fact is that we DID, and if we’re not coming from a place of learning, we’re abusing the work done by the people responsible for everything we know about being Romani.

When people who were raised Romani ask you to keep traditions, it’s because they are the only truly tangible thing that connects us as a culture anymore. You also say repeatedly that we are not a monolith, and that’s quite true. Which is why nobody is asking you to keep every single tradition you know to be practiced by Romani. But refusing to listen to those in the culture who have gone out of their way to help you reconnect and learn? What do you want to get out of being Romani, exactly? Permission to put it in your bio on social media? An opportunity to condescend to people? Pretty scarves? Absolution of your white guilt? That’s called a costume.

As I mentioned previously, I’m a trans person. I was out to my Roma family and faced my share of rejection for it. Do you think I don’t know about conservative values within the culture? Do you really think I’m advocating for excommunication or repression when I suggest you should hold some traditions? Or did it really not occur to you that maybe I was referring to the way you wash your dishes or something equally innocuous?

Where the hell do you get off being raised English and criticizing Romani who are mistrustful of outsiders, exactly? Why does this continually need to be explained to you? Why do you think centuries of violent history magically don’t apply to you just because you have heritage? Why do you think there’s something about you that distinguishes you from anyone who could be lying about even having heritage at all? There’s not a radar and none of us are special. Sorry if that hurts your feelings. It’s not fair, but it’s the truth.

And don’t bring me more shit about your therapists and behaviors and thriving. I don’t care, and the argument doesn’t do what you think it does. You know there are laws right now that affect our people worldwide. Your therapists don’t know how many lashes you took for speaking Romanes. You have not BEEN HERE for the centuries of slaughter. You don’t have a right to criticize certain behaviors. You look like the xenophobe. Don’t even attempt to discuss anti-lgbtq+, sexist or xenophobic ideals within romanipen unless you plan to immediately follow up with the fact that colonialism and white supremacy were what injected them there in the first place. Then take a look at your role as a white settler within your own country and ask yourself if you should really be throwing stones.

Those of us reconnecting have very limited tools for education, and the ones we possess came to us through extreme risk for the ones that left them to us. They sacrificed time and safety so we could learn. They faced potential expulsion for the sake of educating us. Where is your respect for that effort? Where is the acknowledgement that everything we know about our Romani selves we know because of them? Telling people “I’m Romani” and comparing ourselves to photos of women on google doesn’t do a fucking thing for them or the culture.

Like, go to fucking college. Congregate with unmarried men on your period. Go be fucking gay. Shave your head and wear pants and literally do whatever but quit trashing the entire concept of upholding any semblance of Romani tradition as a points system that you are losing or some anti-individuality steamroller. Act remotely grateful that Roma put themselves at risk to teach you anything at all. Accept that you have learning to do.

Y’all can interact with this however you want but don’t expect a response. I don’t feel like hearing your side yet again about all your disadvantages when you actively ignore those of others to excuse your lack of willingness to fall back and listen. I just didn’t feel like making a whole new facebook account and applying to your group just to get this off my chest. I’m willing to be the bad guy if it means you start listening to people who have lived experience in something you’re interested in ✌️

#Romani #romanipen

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Vermont

Summary: It’s been three whole years, thinking about you everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes in passing. [Inspired by Your Graduation and Redo by Modern Baseball and Vermont by fail better, heal faster]

Oneshot

Word Count: 2,143

Jaehyun X Reader

Requested: Aite last one is for Mr Jeong! 13. “I’ll see you around?” “Yeah, I’d like that,…” “Merry Christmas, see you sometime.” + Jaehyun. Work your magic! Hope you had fun writing!

Prompt: 13. “I’ll see you around?” “Yeah, I’d like that,...” “Merry Christmas, see you sometime.”

It’s unbelievably hard to date an idol. I knew that when I fell for Jaehyun, I knew it when we started dating. Why would I believe dating him was going to be different? That him being an idol wouldn’t have any effect on our relationship? I understood he had a schedule and obligations, just like I did. That wasn’t the problem, where the problem lied was right in the company. Once SM caught word we were meeting up with each other,...

That’s when SM started controlling us. We were allowed to date, but there were restrictions placed on us both. If we stepped too far over the line, SM would kick Jaehyun out of NCT. We were free to keep contact with each other but when he was on a show our communications were off-limits. That didn’t bother either of us because he had to concentrate on work, which was fine. Just like we couldn’t go public which I knew from the get-go. It wasn’t hard following them was the easier part of it all. It’s when Dispatch would catch us, two years into our relationship. When everything would hit the fan on Christmas Day three years ago.

I came over to the dorm to spend Christmas with Jaehyun. We were enjoying ourselves, eating Christmas cookies and drinking. When we heard a knock on our door, in pops Taeyong, looking somber and not meeting either of our eyes. We asked him what was wrong and he showed us his phone in defeat. When we finally got a good glimpse of it, we knew we were fucked. It wouldn’t be long for us to get a call from SM. Having to end our time together on Christmas early to head over to the SM entertainment building.

As much as I loved Jaehyun, I knew the decision I had to make before we even got out of the dormitory. It was going to hurt, but that pain would be nothing compared to him losing a career over me. When we got inside we were told to meet Lee Soo-man in his office. We looked at each other and decided to take our time. Avoiding the inevitable by going up the stairs together. We reached the fifth floor and he turned around and looked me in the eyes. “No matter what happens, I want you to know I love you with my whole heart.” I nodded and kissed his nose, “I love you so much, Jaehyun, nothing can change that.” He nodded back and grabbed my hand, holding it tightly, like I was going to float away and I would never get to see him again.

It was sad to know that was close to being right. We reach the door and I gulp as I reach my hand out and knock on the door. From inside he says, “Come in,” trying to calm down I squeeze his hand and he smiles down at me. I smile back up at him, my smile soon turning into a frown as Jaehyun opens the door and I set my eyes on Lee Soomin.

He gestures for us to sit down and with heavy hearts we do. “I know you’ve already seen Dispatch’s news. This can go one of three ways, one you risk it all for each other. If the fans have a big backlash you leave the company, Jaehyun.” I gulp, I know I can’t let that happen. “Two you deny the allegations and you,” he stares at me, “start dating someone from your workplace publicly.” I shake my head knowing I could never do that Jaehyun, my heart could never take that. “Three, I’ll pay you to live in another country and you don’t come back. We’ll say you guys dated in the past.” I hold the tears back not wanting to look weak in front of his CEO. Jaehyun looks over me and squeezes my hand, I already know which choice he wants to take. He would risk it all if it meant we could be together. But, I know his career means everything to him. I can’t risk him losing that for me, I don’t care how much it hurts me. I know it will hurt Jaehyun, but his dream is to be an idol and who am I to get in the way of that? “I choose option Number 3.” Jaehyun shakes his head, “No--” I shake my head at him and kiss his hand. “Being an idol is your dream and I can’t let you lose that over me.”

I walk out of the office as Jaehyun runs after me. I’m down three flights of stairs before he catches my shoulder. Tears stream down our faces, knowing the consequences of my actions. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Jaehyun.” He nods, “I know, nothing can change your mind when you’re set on something,...” I look down at my shoes and say, “I’ll see you around?” I nod and sniffle, trying to wipe most of my tears away, “Yeah, I’d like that.” He grabs my face and we look at each other in the eyes, and for the last time, we share a kiss. Our hearts burn as we realize this is an untimely end. We walk down the stairs and I say, “Merry Christmas, see you sometime.” He nods, “Merry Christmas, I’ll see you then.”

The next day, I boarded my flight to Vermont. I didn’t know anyone, and I wanted the world to suck me in or destroy me in the collision. Neither of which happened, my heart was in pieces and I had no way of contacting Jaehyun. None of my friends from Korea knew what happened to me. I couldn’t even tell any of them, my phone was confiscated and I was lucky that I had my parents' phone numbers memorized. I went to a pay booth that night, calling them up and telling them what went down. They wished to hold me and comfort me, but their words did little to comfort me. The only person that could comfort me was no longer allowed to have contact with me. My heart shattered in more ways than one, at least Jaehyun could still pursue his career.

I wished to be anywhere but in fucking Vermont. But I was stuck here, with only enough to pay for rent and food. It took three months before I found a good enough job to at least have a furnished apartment. I cursed out Lee Soomin’s name to the point where my throat was sore. Some nights, I couldn’t find it in myself to fall asleep because Jaehyun wasn’t there. I began to hate Christmas, it was an ugly reminder of how I could never be with Jaehyun. Snow in Vermont is a sight to see when you’re not cursing at it. Because if it wasn’t for Christmas Day I’d still be in Jaehyun’s arms. And maybe, just maybe, we would be happy together and never have to worry about Dispatch catching us. Maybe, we should have been more careful, but when you’re in love that’s not how it works. Maybe, if the entertainment world wasn’t so fucked up we would still be together. But it’s been three years since then, and I have had yet to see Jaehyun.

I’d rather be home than stay in Vermont where I’m cut off from everyone except my parents. But I’ve been excommunicated from my country, my home, my life. So I learned to suck it up. I worked so hard to get over it, my favorite genre was Kpop, and now I can no longer stand it. I know if I’m not lucky, I would catch Jaehyun in the crowd. My heart still longs for him but my mind has moved on. I’m as happy as I was when I was with Jaehyun. I feel comfortable by myself, and maybe Vermont isn’t so bad.

My father calls me up on Tuesday and tells me, “It’s taken a while but we have a big surprise for you.” My mind is reeling, did they get me a pair of Heelys? That’s been on my Christmas list since I was little! “Really? Your presents are on the way and should be there by Friday morning.” He laughs, “Okay honey, but don’t hate me for your surprise. It took a lot of haggling to get it.” That raises my concerns, did he have to fight a poor mother over a pair of Heelys? “Okay,... I promise whatever it is I won’t hate you. I love you guys” I hear him hum, “We love you too, have a Merry Christmas if I forget to call you.” I nod forgetting that he can’t see that, “Alright you guys have a Merry Christmas, see you soon.” I know I won’t be able to see them soon but the idea feels comforting.

--

Friday, Christmas Day, I hear a knock on my door and throw on my coat. Expecting a UPS delivery person to be standing outside my door with a present from my parents. When I open my door, my heart soars as my stomach sinks. I pull him in, it’s not the UPS person. It’s Jaehyun, “How did you get here? Why are you here! Oh no, you can get in so much trouble. How did you--” He smiles, “It’s nice to see you too.” I lock my doors and look out the window to make sure no one else saw him enter. “I don’t know if you saw the news lately,...” I shake my head, “What news?” I lead him over to my kitchen table and sit across from him.

“SM lifted all the dating bans and basically told fans to shove it. Idols deserve to live their lives,...” I scoff, “Wow, that would have been nice three years ago.” My heart thumps at the implications of his statement but I keep it cool. “I never got over you,... I tried everything, (Y/n), nothing seemed to work. Do you know how often I was over at your parent's house? Whenever you would call I would beg to talk to you. But I knew if I did, you would cut off communications with them. Not wanting to harm my career,... As much as it is noble of you, I desperately missed you.” The tears start streaming down our faces just like that fateful Christmas Day.

My heart lurches out of my chest, wanting to hold Jaehyun in my arms. “I missed you too, Jaehyun. There are still sometimes when I wake up and cry because I realize you’re not there next to me.” He wipes his tears with his coat, “I told you Merry Christmas, see you then,... I meant it.” I nod, “Is this what they meant when they said they haggled?” He rubs the back of his neck, a habit he had whenever he got nervous. “The day your parents found out, they fought with Soomin for three hours. I wish I was kidding,...” I laugh, “From then on they had been digging at his character, making him break. They would call me in ever so often because they wanted me to speak about my experience. How it ripped me from the inside out to lose you because of my career. That I couldn’t keep it while I dated you.” I wipe a few tears from my eyes, “You know if it wasn’t for my resolve to make sure you could keep your career. I would have been in your arms just to piss off Soomin and Dispatch.” He nods, “My parents almost convinced me to come back home on many different occasions.” He gets up from where he’s sitting and wraps his arms around the back of the chair and me. I pull him around and we cry into each other’s arms.

“I still love you, Jaehyun. I wish we could have a complete redo.” He shakes his head, “I don’t want to redo, I want to continue.” I laugh, “Well, what’s stopping us?” He looks up and grins at me, “Nothing now… So what do you say, (L/n) (Y/n), would you like to be mine again?” I lean down and kiss his forehead, “I never stopped being yours.” He smiles, “I love you,...” “I love you too, Jeong Jaehyun.”

I started loving Christmas again, he helped me move back home. After we spent the rest of the day enjoying Vermont. A place I still wasn’t accustomed to, a place I didn’t enjoy until Jaehyun was back with me again. They say the heart grows fonder when you are away for longer. That if you love someone, let them go. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were. I knew in my heart someday we would be in each other's arms again.

#jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun fluff #christmas #christmas prompts #christmas fluff #sad jaehyun #taeyong mention #jaehyun nct #jaehyun nct u #jaehyun nct 127 #nct u x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct u fluff #nct 127 fluff #kpop x reader #jaehyun kpop #nct x reader #nct fluff #jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun x you #jeong jaehyun nct #jeong jaehyun nct u #jeong jaehyun nct 127 #nct x y/n #nct x you #nct u x you

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 5

Aaaand here we are, second offering in the Escape!AU, though this is... third I think?... if we’re going by internal chronology of what I’ve got so far. I’m not even going to try to track that as we go, though, because of the whole still-adding-more-as-I-go-along thing. I’ll figure that shit out when the AO3 post gets made, lol. 

Have some EVEN MORE FEELINGS realization, friends! And also some sad, because y’know, Whumptober. 

With the rest of Damien’s family being pagan, I also had this headcanon that his relationship with them was pretty well trashed after he joined the Church, and that the Matriarch of Ganji had kind of... honorarily adopted him, and that they were still super close, and that’s why she backed him so firmly against the Patriarch’s bullshit. Having that headcanon, though, made me wonder - what must she have thought, when she heard about certain developmens?

Day 5 - Theme Chosen: Betrayal

Damien eyed the pile of letters with some trepidation. He had only meant to grab a few belongings from his rented room in Jaggonath before abandoning it permanently – the world needed to believe that he and Gerald had perished at Mount Shaitan, so he couldn't exactly tell the landlord that he wasn't coming back, but he'd wanted to pick up a few of the items he'd brought with him across the Dividers before he and Gerald left the city for good. He hadn't expected a pile of letters to be laying on the front hall rug, having clearly accumulated during the journey to Shaitan and back.

Gerald was currently at Alesha Huyding's house, convincing the woman to let them take the rest of Senzei's journals on the Iezu for their own project. They were supposed to meet at Karril's temple in less than an hour; Damien definitely didn't have time to read these all. He scooped the pile off the floor and started flipping through them quickly, discarding the majority of them at a glance. Most of them were notes from his fellow clergy members at the Jaggonath Cathedral, wondering where he'd disappeared to; there were a few unpaid bills from local merchants, and one heavy linen envelope with a golden seal that he knew must be his official notice of excommunication. The sight of it made his chest ache, but it was nothing compared to the shock that ran through him at the last letter.

The envelope from the very bottom of the stack was also fine quality, though it lacked the ostentatious gold seal, instead being tied shut with a red ribbon. Even at a glance, though, Damien recognized the delicate hand that had traced out the address of the Jaggonath Cathedral – it seemed the letter had gone there first, and been redirected to his temporary apartment when the messenger learned that Damien was no longer employed by the Church.

The letter was from the Matriarch of the Cathedral in Ganji-on-the-Cliffs.

Guilt pooled in his chest like icy water, and Damien cursed softly. Stuffing the two Church envelopes in his jacket pocket, he left the rest of the letters on the kitchen table and went to gather what he'd come for in the first place. There would be time enough later to deal with the two he'd kept; neither of them, he suspected, were going to be an easy read.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He ended up putting off looking at the letters for a few days. Between gathering everything they would need to get them to another city, and tying up any loose ends they'd left behind, he actually managed to more or less forget about the envelopes tucked away in his pocket. Gerald had decided that their best bet was to head back northeast, retracing their steps yet again to get some distance from Jaggonath now that they had what they needed from the city; Damien wasn't any more keen on running into any familiar faces than the adept was, and agreed that it was probably the safest plan. Ensuring that they remained anonymous was enough to keep his mind occupied on the road, and it wasn't until they stopped at a dae three nights later that he remembered.

They'd both had their fill of sleeping on the unforgiving ground as winter crept closer again, and when the dae had come into view, they had agreed with only a glance that they could afford the minor risk  of dealing with the residents if it meant getting to sleep in proper beds for a night. Damien negotiated for their rooms while Gerald saw that the horses were stabled comfortably, and they met up in the common room of the dae, at a small table in the corner farthest from the light of the fire. As they sat down, though, Damien made to tuck the room key into his pocket – and his fingers brushed the envelopes still tucked into his jacket.

Either his face had shown his dismay or Gerald had felt it through their link, because the adept turned to look at him immediately, grey eyes narrowed in concern.

“What's wrong?”

“It's nothing urgent, just...” Damien pulled the letters out, feeling dread settle into his gut like a stone. “There were some letters that had been slipped under my apartment door, when I went back to get my things. Most of them weren't important, but I kept these two. I meant to look at them later that day, but – I forgot.”

Gerald's gaze fell on the golden seal of the Cathedral on the top one, and Damien heard his sudden, sharp breath. The former Knight's mouth twisted in a bitter half-smile.

“Yeah, I think we both know what that one is. This one, though...”

He pulled the other envelope out and set it on top, his heart in his throat. Gerald frowned at it, then glanced up at him.

“Who is this one from?”

“The Matriarch. In Ganji,” Damien whispered. “I wrote to her when we were sailing back from the Eastern Continent, telling her everything that had happened. The Master of Lema, what we'd discovered about the rakh, the Undying Prince... you.”

The adept went very still. He was rather like a hunting hawk in that way, a distant part of Damien's mind observed; when they laid eyes on their prey, such birds would freeze, in a manner that could look almost like a prey response itself unless one knew what to look for. In reality, the bird was preparing for the swift, sure, devastating movement of an attack – but the only warning you would get was that unnatural stillness.

“This is her response.” The soft words weren't a question. Damien sighed deeply, rolling his shoulders back in a fruitless attempt to shed some of the tension.

“Yes. And probably more, given that I'm fairly sure the Patriarch wrote to her as well – she likely knows by now that I've been thrown out of the Order, even if she hasn't yet heard about our... tragic demises.” He looked up and forced himself to meet Gerald's gaze steadily, feeling the prickling anticipation through the bond, the chill creeping over his skin. When he spoke, he kept his voice very low, not wanting to speak too loudly even though Gerald had put up a Warding when they sat down that would keep anyone from eavesdropping on them.

“I know you're hungry. Take what you need. This is going to be miserable for me either way.”

Gerald's eyes flashed, but the adept only inclined his head slightly, a silent gratitude. Damien swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat, then reached with shaking hands to untie the ribbon and unfold the letter.

My dear son,

I hope you will forgive my informality. I know that, as the Holy Mother, I ought to have worded this more properly – but at the moment, I care nothing for propriety, so long as I can reach you.

Your letters have given me enough nightmares for a lifetime. This demon that conspires to corrupt our world, Calesta, is all that the Church most dreads; not a passive evil, but an all too active one, darkening the minds of men and swaying them to its nefarious cause. I was horror-struck to learn of the men and women that willingly served it, and what it plans for our world, but those concerns too have paled in comparison to the chill that fell over me when I read what you had written of our fallen Prophet.

Damien. If ever you felt, as I did, that our bond was that of true family – that you were my son in more than the titles that the Church proscribes, that I cared for you as I would have for a child of my flesh – then I beg of you, in the name of that bond... turn aside. I do not need it written out to know that you hope to save Gerald Tarrant, to redeem him from his dark deeds and guide him back into the light of God. I cannot stress enough how much I fear for you if you pursue such a path. There are some choices that a man cannot make without altering who he is forever, and some roads are too dark to retrace one's steps. You cannot save him. God's greatest gift is forgiveness, but a man such as that will not accept it, for to do so he would have to admit that his deeds require forgiveness – to admit that he has become a monster, and repent of what he has done. A man like Gerald Tarrant can never do that.

If you try to save him, I am certain that he will poison you. Slowly, no doubt, and subtly, for to have survived all that he has the Hunter must be a devious creature indeed – but inexorably, and perhaps, irrevocably. I know you, Damien, and your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness; your incredible determination. It has carried you through so much adversity, and it held you to our faith and cause when your family would have dragged you away... but I fear that it will also keep you from recognizing when you are outmatched, and hold you to your resolve to alter his nature, even as his corruption takes hold. If you are focused only on his redemption, you may not see what is happening until it is too late.

Please come home, Damien. I know it goes against everything we preach, but this once, I reach out to you and speak not as the Holy Mother, but simply as a mother. Come home. Let another fight this war; let the Hunter carry this burden alone, if you truly believe he wishes to make amends. We are all of us sworn to give our lives for the Church, but I beg of you, not like this.

Come home.

With all my love and prayers,

Carla

No title. No Holy Mother. Not her regnal name, Aelia II. Just her given name, as a mother might sign a desperate letter to her son.

Damien didn't know when he'd started to cry, but his eyes burned by the time he reached the end; his cheeks were wet, and his chest ached from staying quiet, even as his whole body shook with silent sobs. He dropped the letter on the table and pressed his hands over his face, past caring if his distress was obvious. No one else in the room was going to notice anything with the Obscuring still in place, and it wasn't as if Gerald needed the visual cues to know that he was upset – with the way he felt, in that moment, the grief and guilt had to be flooding out of him like blood from an arterial wound, staining the fae around him black and crimson.

He'd known, since the night he braved Hell itself to bring the Hunter back, that he was turning his back on everything he'd ever cared for. Not merely his faith, intangible as it was, but also his home, his friends, and his family.

Perhaps his parents and brother would not have disowned him for the choices he had made on this quest – but it was years too late for that to matter, after the way they had fallen out when Damien chose to join the Church. The faith of the One God had forced Damien to distance himself from their aggressively pagan lifestyle, and they had seen his choice as a betrayal, a self-righteous attack on their way of life instead of the deeply personal calling Damien had felt it to be. The only thing that had gotten him through that loss and upheaval had been the support of a woman who, at the time, was just another priestess at the Ganji Cathedral. Mother Carla had been his bedrock of support, his sponsor in the seminary and a gentle voice of reassurance whenever Damien felt himself faltering; by the time Damien was Knighted, she had ascended to the Holy Mother's seat as Matriarch Aelia II, and their bond had been unshakable. It had been Carla who recommended Damien for the experimental program teaching young Workers in Jaggonath, who had seen him off with a warm smile and the assertion that she knew he would do well, and that he would return to Ganji-on-the-Cliffs having shaped a whole generation of new minds.

And Damien had betrayed her.

It wasn't what he meant to do, but what did intent matter when measured against the cold facts of the outcome? He had betrayed the faith they held in common by choosing to forgive the Hunter's centuries of crimes; he had betrayed the Church they both served by thwarting Andrys's attempt at vengeance and helping Gerald elude the Crusade; he had betrayed the personal trust she had placed in him by deserting his duty and turning his back on the very principles that he himself had once preached to the Church's young followers. She had sent him east to further the vision of the Church, and instead he had struck it one of the most staggering blows it had suffered in centuries. She had reached out to him in compassion and love, ready to absolve him of every responsibility if he only turned back... but even if the letter had reached him in time, Damien knew in his heart that it still wouldn't have altered his course.

That, surely, was the bitterest betrayal of all – the knowledge that seared through him and left him shaking and cold and sick. That letter hadn't said anything that he hadn't already, on some level, known; he had held all those arguments with himself a thousand times, those long lonely nights on the road to Mount Shaitan. He had recognized the risk that his own stubbornness was blinding him, recognized that his judgement and morals were compromised, recognized that he was nearing the point of no return. Even with all of that, though, when the moment of choice had come – he hadn't even hesitated. He'd seen the murderous rage in Andrys Tarrant's eyes, known that it was the reckoning for all of Gerald's sins, and he'd still stepped in front of the bolt.

He might not have surfaced from that yawning abyss of despair for a long time, if not for the gentle sensation that ran along the link between himself and Gerald. Unlike the assertive, even imperious force that Damien was used to from the Hunter's power, this was softer, almost inquisitive; a coaxing tug, instead of a firm push. He was still too badly shaken to muster any kind of coherent response within his mind, and a moment later, he felt an equally gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Damien.”

With an effort, the former Knight swallowed back the sounds of pain he wouldn't allow himself to make and lifted his head, blinking through tears at his companion. Gerald had shifted his chair and was sitting close by his side now, one hand raised for that steadying grip on his shoulder, and the look on the adept's face took what little breath Damien had regained away; genuine concern, traces of sorrow and guilt – unmistakable compassion, raw and unpractised and honest. A more human expression than the Hunter's face had worn in centuries, one that no one else would even have believed him capable of.

Damien realized, quite suddenly, that his heart was beating so forcefully that it might have been trying to break free of his ribcage.

He heard himself speak, without consciously deciding to do so.

“I wouldn't change it. Even if I knew, if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn't choose any differently.”

Gerald's grip tightened on his shoulder, and for a moment he just held Damien's gaze, silent. Damien could see the thoughts racing behind his quicksilver eyes, and even with the link, he couldn't read them all – but suddenly he knew, with a certainty so firm that it had to be resonating through the link, that someday he would be able to. They'd been operating on the unspoken understanding that Damien would be helping Gerald fulfill his new goal of establishing proper communication with the Mother of the Iezu, and that their work would keep them together for some time yet, but in that moment Damien knew that it was more than that. He hadn't just chosen betrayal for its own sake, in that moment in the Hunter's Keep; he'd chosen Gerald, and that choice was always going to be there, just like the link that hummed between their souls. They were walking the same path now, and wherever it lead, they would be treading it side by side.

Finally, Gerald spoke, his voice soft but ever so steady; the unwavering voice of a man who had stared Death in the face, and made it bow to him.

“I don't know that I can ever find a way to repay you for that... but I swear, on my life, that I will never make you regret it.”

Damien reached up and took the hand that had gripped his shoulder in his own, lacing their fingers together, the Hunter's once-chill hand now almost warm against his own.

“That's good enough for me.”

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #Betrayal #coldfire trilogy #fic #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #the neocount writes

[crash-cinematic-universe]

a sickly satisfaction (ch.4)

pairing: jason dean/reader

summary: a death sentence isn’t the weirdest thing anyone’s ever gotten in high school (by fall out boy)

warnings: bullying, the heathers are Mean as usual.

notes: we are getting close to the end kind of so i actually will not be posting two chapters today. i am evil and fucked up. also friendly reminder that if you know me irl uh. no you don’t. and dont read this

taglist: @stuckysdaughter

            ** 3RD PERSON POV **

            Eyes down. Walk fast. Stay close. Well, actually, their eyes aren’t down. No, they’re constantly flicking upwards to gaze into their companion’s eyes, the fleeting glances sending waves of comfort through their bodies. They’re walking fast, their footsteps in sync as they walk down the hallway to their fourth period class. He doesn’t have class with her, but he didn’t care. It’s not like he had never been late before. The two are certainly close; their fingers are laced together, the soft contact helping each other stay grounded. If it weren’t for this, they probably would’ve floated off by now.

            Jason Dean felt like everything had fallen into place. He found someone perfect-- someone smart and funny and so damn beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her. Her voice is more beautiful than any bullshit Mozart could even hope to write. He would kill for her. He would give his life for her. If she asked him to pull a star out of the sky and hand it to her, he’d enroll in a space program and get the largest rope he could find. Jason’s eyes darted around the hallway, shooting daggers at anyone who dared look at her in a way that displeased him. His stream of thoughts was a constant flow of her, her, her. It was almost overwhelming. 

            Y/n’s entire body was on fire, bright orange flames sprouting from her feet and weaving around her fingers. She feels no pain. The only thing she feels is him, the way they fit together like puzzle pieces. Her brain doesn’t really… work when she’s around him. It’s a whirlpool of adoration and enamorment and a vague feeling of wonder. She’s almost embarrassed that she’s come so smitten with someone-- she used to scoff at the pairs in the hallway that we’re practically eating each other alive. Now? She was counting down the seconds until she could be behind closed doors with Jason. 

            “Alright, I have to go to class,” She sighs. Neither of them want to be apart, but neither of them had a real choice. 

            “Or we could skip and get a slushie…” Jason suggested, his eyes pleading that she’d go with him.

            “Jason, we can’t keep skipping. We’re gonna end up repeating senior year.” Her hand raises up to brush hair out of his eyes. 

            “My dear, I’d repeat senior year a hundred times if it meant I could be with you,” He purred. Y/n smiled.

            “You’re cute.” she pecked him on the cheek. “But I can’t. I’ll meet up with you afterwards-- there are only two periods left in the day,”

            “two periods, seven hundred years-- it’s all the same for me,” He whined. With a final peck on the corner of his mouth, she pulled away from him. 

            “I swear, once school is over, you’ll have me all to yourself. No interruptions.” The shrill ring of the bell shrieks through the hallway, and Y/n hurries away from the beautiful boy she has wrapped around her finger. He watches as she walks away, his heart swelling as he dreamily leans against the lockers behind him. Jason Dean had never been in love before-- he wasn’t sure he would ever be in love. Yet, here he is, calculating how much time there was in between now and the end of the day; calculating exactly how long he had to be apart from her. 

            Y/n’s seventh period class was chock-full of assholes and jocks and the most infamous teenage girls in the school. She sat in the back corner, carefully hidden away from the rest of the class. However, no matter how hidden she thought she was, the Heathers always seemed to find their way into her corner. 

            “Oh, Y/n, how lovely to see you,” Heather Chandler said with faux-happiness. “Looks like they never fixed the electricity in your house, since you obviously got dressed in the dark,” Her clique of brainless followers giggled, their laughter so high in pitch that it was as if only dogs could hear it.

           “I guess she doesn’t care if she looks like she fell out of a plane,” Heather McNamara chimed in.

            “And I guess you three don’t care that you look like clowns. Heather, you’re wearing so much foundation that your face is a solid three shades lighter than the rest of your body,” She wasn’t speaking to any Heather in particular, just the general unit that is The Heathers. Scoffs echoed from the three of them. It was almost funny, their in-sync attitudes and in unison reactions. Y/n wondered if they all get their period at the same time, too. The thought grosses her out. 

            “Listen here, skank, you better watch your mouth or this whole school will throw you out onto the street,” Heather C. growled. I rolled my eyes. The other two Heathers walked to their seats as the teacher strode in, but Heather Chandler stood her ground.

            “Heather, one day you’re going to wake up and realize that you’re never going to have this kind of power again. I think you’re afraid of leaving Westerburg, because then you’ll be nothing more than a sour memory,” Y/n hissed. 

            “Alright, that's it, freak. Savor your last day on this Earth, because come tomorrow morning, you’re done. Might as well kiss you boy-toy goodbye and start packing now, because you’re a dead whore walking,” With that, Heather spun on her heel and walked to her desk. The teacher at the front of the classroom looked uninterested in the interaction, and began droning on about something or other. 

            The cocky attitude Y/n had built up faded, burning within her into a pathetic pile of ash. Heather had the school in her palm, she could absolutely get Y/n exiled from Westerburg like a priest can excommunicate any skeptics. Veronica gleaned at Y/n from across the room, shooting her a smile that was both sympathetic and apologetic. She sighed.

            For the rest of the day, a cloud of dread hung over Y/n head, and Jason noticed it immediately. He appeared at her side within seconds, concern consuming his body like it was fire and he was dry grass. 

            “Hey, doll, why the long face?” His voice soothed the gashes that the Heathers’ pitchy giggles left. 

            “I’m fine, Jason--”

            “No, you very much are not. Last time I saw you, you looked like you were walking on clouds, and now you look like you’re trapped under a cumulonimbus. Just tell me what’s goin’ on and we’ll take care of it,” His hands found hers with ease, his slender fingers gripping her hand tightly. 

            “It’s just... Heather and I got into an argument and now she’s pledged to ruin my life by tomorrow morning. Tonight, she gets to party away at some frat house while I finalize my will and draft my last words,” Y/n sighs, exasperatedly. 

            “Well… I guess that means we’ll have to make the next--” he checks his watch, “-- sixteen hours worth your while,” Jason’s eyes flash with something unfamiliar but certainly welcome. 

            “School is over, after all. I did promise that you’d have me all to yourself, didn’t I?” Y/n smirks, and Jason's face flushes bright red. As the two of them walk out of the crowded building, Y/n forgets about the Heathers and her impending doom. Instead, she thinks about Jason, and how he seems to be the only good thing in this godforsaken world.

#jason dean x reader #jason dean #heathers #heather duke #heather chandler #heather macnamara #a sickly satisfaction series #irl dont look #irl don't look #Veronica Sawyer

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part One)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: blood imagery, injury

Context: The reader is a vampire hunter who works for an institution that specialises in hunting supernatural beings, and has been deployed in Santa Carla. Over time, she met the boys and somehow befriended them, choosing not to hunt them at all, rather keep their territory clear of other vampires.

A/N: right, so this is an idea for a series I've had for a little while now, and I've been itching to get it down. It's a little bit different to what I usually write, and I swear it will get better than this first part, so bare with me. 💛💛💛❤

Masterlist

“I thought I told you boys to be careful tonight?” I exclaim as I emerge from behind the dune i was crouched by, carefully slotting my dart gun into the holster at my hip, concealing it with my jacket before gingerly sliding down the soft sand, taking in what was the scene of a beach party, but is now in fact the remains of a coven of vampires’ meal. Bottles lie, stranded, in the bloody sand, clothes and shoes strewn all over the place, a foul stench emanating from the bonfire in the centre, where there are already three bodies burning, the platinum blonde vampire, David, having already started disposing of the evidence.

“He caught us off guard!” Paul whines, the lanky blonde picking splinters of wooden shrapnel out of his abdomen, Marko and Dwayne kneeling beside him to help, hands slick with blood, both vampire and human.

“I did warn you he was in town.” I point out, going over to the limp hunter lying on the floor a little way away, pulling out a syringe of sedative from my pocket as I crouch down beside him, rolling him onto his front with one hand. From his place by the fire, David comes over, watching as I remove the dart from his back and inspect its contents, noting that it is only half empty, meaning the muscular man beneath me is not nearly as unconscious as I would like. Moving a lock of dirty blonde hair away from the pale neck exposed by his loose collar, I inject him with a larger dose of the same sedative, making sure that he is well and truly out of it before rolling him onto his back, looking into his haggard face.

Unsurprisingly, I don't recognise him, though I am well aware that I probably should, given that the logo embroidered into the shoulder of his jacket is identical to the one on my own, identifying him as a member of the same unit that I am in - the stark white cross and blood red rosary beads a dead giveaway. Chewing my lip, I consider what I should do with him, thinking through my usual options: leave him where he is so he can pick up his own pieces tomorrow, take him back to the ramshackle hut I live in so I can help him recover and make up some story, or let the boys take him, an option which I've never seriously thought about. A short groan from behind me snaps me from my thoughts, Paul's stomach evidently still not quite healed after his encounter with a shrapnel grenade, a personal favourite of many inexperienced Hunters, due to its efficiency in incapacitating vampires in a large radius. Unfortunately for him, the tall blonde managed to take the brunt of one, as the Hunter's aim is apparently as bad as his ability to protect himself against his own quarry - no one serious about taking down vampires should leave their neck as unprotected as he does.

"You want some help getting the rest of those out? It'll be difficult without tweezers." I call over to the three vampires on the floor, knowing that the splinters tend to lodge themselves quite deeply.

"We haven't really got all that long left before the sun comes out. Will he survive with them in all day?" David chips in before Paul can reply, eyeing his brother in concern.

"It really won't be very comfortable for him. He'll be in agony the entire time, but he'll survive. If you want, I can drive over to my place and grab what I need and meet you back at the cave?" I offer, well aware that having Paul in constant pain will be as tedious for the others as it is for the vampire himself, seeing as he has a tendency to whine.

Across from us, the vampire in question whimpers again, head falling back, lip clamped between his teeth, Dwayne moving carefully to pick him up, concern written across his face. Upon seeing this, David growls, sending a murderous look at the prone figure at my feet, fist clenching at his side as he fights the urge to exact revenge.

"If it's no trouble, (Y/n), that would be much appreciated." Dwayne accepts, smiling tensly at me as adjusts the weight in his arms.

"Ok, I'll be over in an hour. I have to get him," I point at the Hunter, "Home, so I'll be a little longer than normal. Make Paul as comfortable as possible whilst you wait."

The brunette nods at me before floating into the air, moving to fly in the direction of the cave they reside in, Marko soon following with a quick grin, the younger vampire clearly as worried as his brother, leaving David and I alone with the Hunter.

"What're you gonna do with him?" The vampire inquires, toeing at the Hunter's face with his boot, disgust evident in his tone.

"I'll send him back to New Orleans in the morning." I inform him, having made up my mind.

"New Orleans?"

"Yeah, it's where the SRS have their headquarters. If I send him back with an appropriate story, I'll be sorting two problems in one go." I explain to him, referring to the relentless curiosity that I've been faced with for the past year, when the SRS (Supernatural Riddance Soldiers) superiors noticed that I never seemed to come back, an odd occurrence for one of their most experienced soldiers. If I tell the Hunter that I'm sorting a vampire problem here, they'll leave me alone; what they don't need to know is that I've accidentally befriended the only real vampires in Santa Carla itself. If they found out, I'd be excommunicated and then hunted down as if I were a vampire myself: anyone who consorts with the damned is damned themselves.

"Makes sense, I guess. Want some help carrying him back?" David offers, watching as I prop the body up against my own, judging the weight against me before I decide on the best way of getting him to my home.

"Err, yeah, that'd be great, thanks." I respond, standing as he easily reaches down and picks the body up, the weight resting comfortably in his muscular arms.

Together, we walk back the way I came, picking up my skateboard (my only method of transport) on our way, following the road back to the rundown shack I call my home. When I was first deployed here, the SRS put me up in a crappy motel off the highway going into Santa Carla, but after the first week or so, I moved out and into this shed, seeing as my only transport from my original lodgings was a bus, the price of which was too much for me to continue using. Being an avid skater, I swiftly purchased a skateboard and have used that ever since; it was also how I first met Dwayne, having accidentally bumped into him at one of the many skateparks in and around the coastal town. Approaching the rickety structure now, I feel a little self conscious at my choice of home, aware that the walls are patched with random pieces of wood, the roof made of scraps of corrugated iron and that the door is nothing but a sheet of riveted metal that I slide in place in front of the gap in South facing wall. David says nothing, allowing me to pull the "door" aside before entering, dumping the body on the floor with an unceremonious thud.

Quietly, I grab a rope off of the messy table top and get to work tying the Hunter to a loop of iron set into the floor, a feature that was already here when I first moved in, tightening the knots significantly, given that every Hunter is trained in the art of escapism when they go through their initial training, meaning it is likely that the man on the floor may well be able to break free. When I'm finished, I rifle through the gear littering the many surfaces in the room, eventually finding my tweezers, lifting them for David to see as I approach him.

"Let's go." I say to him, giving the unconscious Hunter one last look as we step outside again, slipping the tweezers into my pocket, "How are we getting there?"

"Well," David smirks, shrugging to himself, "Either we can walk, or I can carry you."

"You can carry me?" I question, blushing slightly at the idea.

"You look light enough, and flying is faster anyway." He reasons, chuckling at the redness of my cheeks, something he can only see because of his enhanced vision.

"I guess we can try that? It means Paul doesn't have to wait as long..." I start only to be cut off when David suddenly has me in his arms, my own hands wrapping themselves around the back of his neck, a yelp escaping me at the proximity.

"You'd better hold on, kitten." The vampire teases, before taking off into the night sky.

Part Two

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys) #kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys) #dwayne(the lost boys) #santa carla #marko(the lost boys) #star(the lost boys)

[stephkaylor]

FAVES and FAILS: The Vampire Diaries

So I have decided that since The Vampire Diaries has a spin off, The Originals, I am going to divide the characters based on where they appeared the most. So on this list I will be talking about the Salvatores, the Petrova/Gilbert line, the Bennets and Caroline, etc. but I will discuss the Mikaelsons, Hayley, etc. on their own list with the other characters that appeared on The Originals mostly. As always, spoilers are abound as I will discuss storylines and character arcs below, so be warned of that.  In any case, here’s my FAVES and FAILS for The Vampire Diaries. 

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER: Damon Salvatore

Could it be anyone else? I don’t think so. He’s a delightful little sociopathic shit and I love everything about him. He is 99% id and 1% ego, if that, and even when I hated him, I loved him (god, I sound like Elena…). In any case, love this man, five stars, would recommend, chef’s kiss. 

LEAST FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER: …I think Matt Donovan…?

Ugh, it’s hard to pick between Matt, Tyler, and Jeremy, but I think it has to be Matt. I never enjoyed his judgey attitude against everything supernatural, he seemed pretty whiney most of the time, and he was just genuinely uninteresting for the majority of the show.  Not into it. Pass.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER: Katherine Pierce (Katarina Petrova)

I thought about giving this post to Caroline by default, but if it comes down to it, Katherine nudges her way into the top spot. Katherine gave no fucks, knew what she wanted and was unapologetic about how she went about getting it, and an all around bad bitch. Was she primarily evil? Yes. But, to be honest, it never really bothered me. 

LEAST FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER: Bonnie Bennet

God, this woman was annoying. She was hypocritical, judgmental, and far too holier than thou for me to swallow her bullshit. She constantly played favorites with Caroline and Elena (I’m sorry, you hold Caroline becoming a vampire against her for like two seasons, but when Elena becomes one, it’s not her fault? Sure.). She hated all supernatural creatures because they “go against nature”, but it’s totally chill for you to perform sacrificial magic to get what you want, unleashing a terrible evil in the process (but it’s not her fault). How she nearly excommunicated Caroline just because she stayed with Stefan after Stefan killed Enzo, as if it was her fault in any way. How everyone treated her like she was a special little unicorn because she’s a Bennet Witch and she’s so magical, like, please, gag me. I could go on, but I honestly cannot be bothered. Hard pass. 

THE CHARACTER THAT DESERVED BETTER: Caroline Forbes

She was essentially shunned by all of her friends and family for becoming a vampire, even though she didn’t choose to become one at all. Also, she was basically used as collateral damage for the entire Salvatores and Gilberts versus The Mikaelsons debacle just because Klaus liked her. She was always the second choice no matter what the situation was (unless it’s her being impregnated with magical twins without her consent and then guilted into carrying the babies, but poor Alaric just lost his wife. I’m sorry, unless it’s your uterus, shut the fuck up). I’ll just be over here doing what exactly NO ONE on the show did, and pick Caroline first.

DEADWEIGHT CHARACTER WE SHOULD’VE DUMPED IN 2009: Tyler Lockwood

I couldn’t pick Matt twice, so Tyler, I guess. He was selfish, a terrible boyfriend to both Caroline and also Liv later, and if I have to hear that boy whine about his fucking sire bond one more time I will literally throw my laptop off of a bridge. 

UNDERHYPED CHARACTER: Lorenzo “Enzo” St. John

Honestly, he’s one of the one things that made the last few seasons of the show bearable.  His delightful British rogue was a lovely way to fill the void that the Mikaelsons left in my heart, his devil-may-care attitude was man-made-manifest of what I was always thinking while watching the show, his BFF relationship with Damon and later Caroline was a joy to watch, and he was way too good for Bonnie. 

OVERHYPED CHARACTER: Alaric Saltzman

He is marginally more bearable right now on Legacies, but he annoyed the shit out of me while he was on the first show. Does he hate vampires or is he best friends with them? Does he want to be a hunter or does he want to stay away from anything supernatural of any kind? Also, he (along with nearly everyone else) basically guilted Caroline into carrying his magical siphoner babies, which is a touch too icky for me…

SHIP YOU WOULD SELL YOUR SOUL FOR: Delena (Damon and Elena)

Could it be anyone else? I never shipped Stelena, as I found both Stefan annoying and Elena too woe-is-me while she was with him. She made Damon want to be a better person and he made her embrace who she really was, monster and all. They had a perfect balance between themselves, and it was a joy to watch. He got the girl, guys. 

SHIP YOU JUST WERE’N THAT INTO: Steroline (Stefan and Caroline)

They were just too…meh. I was entirely uninterested in them, whatsoever, and isn’t that even worse than a ship that you hate? I used their scenes for a bathroom break or to get a snack, as I was guaranteed to miss nothing interesting or important while they were on screen. 

CHARACTER YOU LOVE TO HATE/FAVORITE VILLAIN: Kai Parker

What does it say about me that all of my favorite characters are violent psychopaths…? I’m just going to leave that to be unpacked with the future therapists I’m bound to hire. Kai was the perfect evil. He was powerful, purposeful, and unapologetically demonic in the very best way. I could watch him terrorize my favorite characters forever and not get bored.  Perfection.

FAVORITE STORYLINE: Stefan and Damon’s Brotherhood

If you don’t think this is what the show was about at it’s core, you’re wrong. They loved each other, they hated each other, they died for each other, they killed for each other, and, ultimately, they let nothing and nobody come between them. If you asked me who Damon loved more, Elena or Stefan, I COULD NOT answer you, and isn’t that just the fucking point?!

STORYLINE WE COULD’VE DONE WITHOUT: Magical Babies

I know that a major reason this was even a storyline is because Candice Accola got pregnant, but still…how? Like…she is a vampire..? She is unable to biologically change…? Like can someone grab me a biology textbook and explain how this a thing that can happen BIOLOGICALLY, please? I get that they are mythical creatures, so science doesn’t mean much here, but it just doesn’t make sense in any universe. Also, as I said above, the fact that Caroline was impregnated without her consent and then largely guilted into carrying the babies is a touch too rape-y for me…

BIGGEST PLOTHOLE: Do they go to school, or…? 

Like, are they just compelling the teachers to not notice them not attending class like 90% off the time? Also, how do the people in Mystic Falls not know anything about the supernatural? Like, they aren’t subtle AT ALL so how do they keep sliding under the radar? Also, in a lesser way, how are hybrid witch/vampires a thing? Like, I thought if a witch dies (like they would have to if they become a vampire), they lose their magic…?Make it make sense, Julie!

MOST HEARTBREAKING MOMENT: Damon Dies (the first time)

Honestly one of the saddest moments in the entire series was Damon’s ghost watching Elena lose it when he doesn’t make it back from the Other Side. They were finally happy and together and they can only enjoy it for like five minutes before it goes to shit. Why, Julie??!

BIGGEST EYEROLL MOMENT: Magical Babies (again)

I try to not use something twice on this list but COME ON. This was ridiculous and I do not support this in any way.  (Also this twin bullshit is still fucking annoying on Legacies, if anyone was wondering).

MOST SHOCKING MOMENT (any spit-takes?): Elena forces Kathrine to take The Cure

This was one of the moments that I literally gasped aloud. Most of the time the foreshadowing on these shows is seen from miles away, but I honestly did not see this coming at all. Also, Kathrine was basically the LAST person who wanted that cure so it’s crazy that she was the one to end up taking it and turning human.

MOST BADASS MOMENT: Kathrine kisses Damon at the end of Season 1

Like I said before, she is the original BAD BITCH of the show (not an actual Original, but you know what I mean…) and this was an amazing entry for the character who would be, largely, the villain of the series. It played on the feelings that Damon is developing for Elena, it finally introduced the person who started it all for the Salvatores, and it showed us exactly who she is at her core, and that she isn’t sorry about it at all.

SERIES FINALE SATISFACTORY LEVEL (use no words, just gifs):

OVERALL MARKS OUT OF TEN (10 being this show has changed your life for the better, you happily rewatch the series over and over, and the show has made your life better in some way. 1 being this show gave you nothing but trust issues, a stomach ulcer, and high blood pressure, and you honestly do not know why you did this to yourself) 

7 out of 10. 

I look back on The Vampire Diaries with the kind of fondness that only comes from a bizarre mix of nostalgia and incredulity. When scenes from this series show up on my instagram feed or on my Youtube recommended page, an involuntary smile creeps across my face without me realizing. I could do without like half of the characters and some entire seasons were completely unnecessary to watch, but it gave me some of my very favorite characters and ships, and spawned an entire universe that I still enjoy to this day. This magical, crazy, beautiful world was a joy to experience, even when it made me want to beat my head against a wall at least once per season.

If you want to see the other ones I have made, here's the original post with links. x  Hope you like these! (I say to probably no one...)

#The Vampire Diaries #TVD #Vampires #Damon Salvatore #Stefan Salvatore #Damon and Stefan #Elena Gilbert #Damon and Elena #Delena #Caroline Forbes #Bonnie Bennet #enzo st. john #werewolves #magic #witches #the CW #fandom #ships #I ship it #shipping #tv shows #favorite #Katherine Pierce #Katerina Petrova #Matt Donovan #Tyler Lockwood #Jeremy Gilbert #Salvatore #hello brother #gifs

[onemancabaret]

Not giving this the dignity of a beauty-vlogger-apology-video cuz it ain’t that deep fam but here we go:

Awhile ago, I received this anon question:

“Do you think you can see yourself in a long term relationship with someone who hasn’t found/doesn’t believe in faith?”

This was my answer:

“I personally think that the belief in a higher power is essential to life and allows one to lead a humble life with intention and focus.

Wow, that was way too deep lol basically if you don’t believe in a higher power, I think you’re a lil full of yourself 🤷🏼‍♂️”

In the latter half of my answer, I was mocking myself for getting so deep and tried ending on a light note.

A month or so ago, someone dug it up while I happened to be at a very stressful event and I had dozens of people in my anons calling me inclusionist, selfish, hypocritical, etc. I tried my best to respond calmly and with respect but this is the internet... that doesn’t always work now does it?

So. Here is my final word on this question:

“Do you think you can see yourself in a long term relationship with someone who hasn’t found/doesn’t believe in faith?”

Maybe. In my personal dating experience, the people I have dated who didn’t have any kind of faith tended to be slightly more selfish or less focused. 

Now, this isn’t to say that all people with no faith are bad. This also isn’t to say that every person who follows a certain religion or faith is better than anyone else. Just that I find it nice that my partner believe in something greater than themselves.

I have a friend who is one of the kindest, most caring individuals that I know, and he identifies as an atheist. Doesn’t believe in jack shit (his words) other than the energies of the universe. I won’t even attempt to break down what that means because he’s better at that than I am, but essentially he knows that he isn’t the center of the universe and is humbled by that fact. 

I believe in a God. Not sure which one. Much like Tyler Glenn of Neon Trees (who was excommunicated from the Mormon Church after coming out and wrote a full-length album about it) I believe that there is something out there- a spirit, a God, an energy- to help guide us towards being good or even decent people. If you don’t believe in a higher power, but are still capable of being a good person, that’s great. People shouldn’t need the fear of God or threat of Hell to encourage them to do good. They should just try to be the best person that they are capable of being. 

So. Could I see myself in a relationship with someone who doesn’t believe in faith? Maybe.

#asks #religion #tyler glenn #neon trees

[fremedon]

Brickclub I.1.11, “A Qualification”

Holy cow I had a lot to say about this chapter.

Firstly--more than anything, it’s a commentary on the previous chapter. The title, “A Qualification” (“Une restriction”) makes that pretty clear, and the chapter starts out by telling us that the Bishop’s encounter with G--- did not make him a philosopher or a patriot: it “made him still more charitable: that was all.”

I’m going to come back to that word “charitable.” Moving on for now:

Back in 1.1.2, the Senator’s letter of complaint about the bishop’s carriage expenses ends with a sudden outburst of anti-papist sentiments and a parenthetical from the narrator: “Relations with Rome were touchy at the time.”

I had forgotten how touchy until I got to the line about the arrest of the Pope in 1809. Tl;dr—Napoleon’s armies, or those of his puppet kingdoms, had occupied and annexed Rome and most of the Papal States in 1807-8. In May 1809 he declared his intention to annex the remainder of the Papal States and instructed the Pope to hand them over, on the grounds that they had been part of the Donation of Pepin, granted to the Pope by the Franks, and now the Franks were taking them back.

Pope Pius VII—shockingly—did not comply, and instead excommunicated Napoleon. Napoleon besieged the Pope in Castel Sant’Angelo and one of his lieutenants, acting on his own initiative, broke into the fortress and kidnapped him. Napoleon, despite not having ordered this, declined to release him and would keep in him captivity until he was freed by Allied forces in 1814.

FUN FACT: The general who occupied Rome and governed the Papal States from 1807 until Napoleon’s abdication? Sextius Alexandre François de Miollis, veteran of the French and American revolutions and brother of François-Melchior-Charles-Bienvenu de Miollis, the real-life Bishop of Digne of whom Myriel was an acknowledged expy.

The real-life bishop’s brother, with his exemplary revolutionary credentials, was the military governor of the occupied Papal States. I can’t even. This is obviously crucial but I don’t know how; please help me figure it out.

I am a little more confident of the meanings and functions of the rest of the chapter, but there’s a lot of it, so stashing it behind a cut.

So, the captivity of the Pope is the context in which Myriel insults the Church’s wealth and his high-living fellow ecclesiastics. There’s a digression on the importance of charity, which, for all that Hugo means it (and that it will become a critical key to the end of the chapter) I think truly is a digression--its placement here is Hugo throwing dust in our eyes. After this, Hugo assures us that Myriel “had little to do with the theological quarrels of the moment and kept his peace on questions where church and state were compromised; but if hard-pressed, he would have proved more Ultramontane than Gallican”—meaning, more of the belief that the Pope should have authority even in French secular affairs, rather than that the church’s authority should be subject to that of the state.

So not just the charity digression but all the anecdotes about the synod and the bishop being a breath of fresh air are sandwiched between the mention of the pope’s arrest, and our being told that the bishop Would Not Have Approved of it. Which feels like a thing Hugo is trying to underscore without seeming to but also seems totally unsurprising, so I’m not sure why. (Once again, HALP.)

Moving on. It’s after this that we are first told Myriel was cool toward Napoleon in the decline of his power. And it’s after that that we hear about the two brothers—on a prefect, whom he is on good terms with, and one a general, whom he is a little cool toward because the general was insufficiently hostile to Napoleon at the landing at Cannes—that is, at the start of the hundred days.

This fictionalizes the general brother enough to make it clear he’s not actually the MILITARY GOVERNOR OF THE PAPAL STATES. It also brings the timeline back to 1815, the year established as the present in the first sentence. We were just in 1814 at the start of the first Bourbon restoration—we jumped back five years or so to refresh the reader’s memory about Napoleon’s relations with Rome—and now we’re jumping forward, to Napoleon’s return.

With all this as context--Napoleon’s conquest of the Papal States (and the Bishop feeling a way about that), his decline, the Hundred Days--the narrator finally tells us what the Bishop’s political leanings ought to have been.

And first of all Hugo tells us he shouldn’t have had them, though his phrasing in FMA is odd: “Certainly, such a man deserved to escape political opinions.” Anyone want to weigh in on the French? (“Certes, un pareil homme eût mérité de n'avoir pas d'opinions politiques.”)

The next sentence is easier to parse: “Let no one misunderstand; we do not confuse so-called political opinions with that great yearning for progress, with that sublime patriotic, democratic, and human faith which, in our days, should be the basis of all generous thought.” This is Hugo assuring the censor that, no no no, this is not a political book. There’s nothing political about wanting ~progress~, no sir. (Please ignore the next 1300 pages, in which I conclusively demonstrate that Progress can only be achieved by overthrowing Napoleon III and instituting a socialist republic.)

Next sentence: “Without going further into questions that have only an indirect bearing on the subject of this book (translation: are DEEPLY RELEVANT to the subject of this book), we would simply say, it would have been better if Monseigneur Bienvenu had not been a royalist (translation: what it says on the tin) and if his eyes had never been averted for a single instant from that serene contemplation, steadily shining above the conflicts of human affairs, in which are seen those three pure luminaries, Truth, Justice, and Charity.”

Truth, Justice, and Charity are names of god in this book; that was established by a note in the Bishop’s own hand. The last chapter established them as the objects of the Revolution—which is to say, of progress. To be devoted to truth, justice, and charity is to be devoted to revolution.

And to be devoted to the monarchy is not. This sentence confirms what the last chapter implies: Revolution = God. Monarchy = Not God.

…and then I really don’t get the next bit either, about how Myriel didn’t have the right to oppose Napoleon in his decline because he hadn’t opposed his rise.

But the last portion of the chapter is an anecdote about the doorkeeper of the City Hall losing his job under the Restoration for constantly railing against the Bourbons. (Which is another bit of timebending—we’re not only back to the present, but to a more specific present than we started in—the first sentence just established the year, 1815, but this account puts us firmly post-Waterloo, somewhere in the second half of the year: the stage is being prepared for Valejan’s entrance.)

Myriel hires him as the doorkeeper for the cathedral. So however royalist he was--even if it was more royalist than he ought to have been, which is to say at all--it doesn’t prevent him from exercising charity, at least. (Or, at most, this chapter having already established that charity is the most important virtue for a priest.)

The anecdote does in miniature what the whole chapter is doing: tying up the encounter with G--- by showing that Myriel is “apolitical” in the sense the censors cared about--and also, in Hugo’s sense: devoted above all to charity and the betterment of the people around him. (And how do we do that, boys and girls? Starts with an R…)

#brickclub #napoleon again #it's always about napoleon #ursula le guin once compared Tolkien's influence in later fantasy to Mount Fuji in Japanese prints: #sometimes it's so close you can see every detail #and sometimes it's almost invisible in the distance #and sometimes you can't see it at all #because you're standing on top of it #I think about that whenever Napoleon appears #or disappears #lm 1.1.11

[omgsquee2001]

Chapter 5: The Bishop’s Warning

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Current Read ———->

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The Speakers looked up as the door opened. Trevor walked through, followed by the Twins. Then, Sypha walked through. The Elder smiled. He stood and opened his arms. Sypha ran to him and hugged him. The Elder smiled at the three.

“Thank you.” He said. Meilė smiled. And nodded.

“Mm. You’re welcome.” She said. Sypha frowned.

“I failed to find the Sleeper. I'm sorry!” Sypha said. The Elder sighed and held her at arms thength.

“Oh, hush. Hush now, my angel.” The Elder said.

“I very much doubt there's anyone down there.” Trevor said. Ramybė nodded.

“Trevor’s right. It's probably a booby-trapped legend. There's someone wriggling with pleasure in his coffin right now thinking of people like your girl,” she placed her hand on Meilė’s shoulder, looking at her. “And my sister, walking into the cyclops he left down there.” She said. Trevor nodded, agreeing with what his best friend said. Sypha looked at the two.

“Or perhaps there is something down there so important that it must be guarded by monsters.” She said, raising her arm. Trevor frowned.

“Your Messiah isn't down there.” He said. Sypha walked up and got into his face.

“And what makes you so sure?” She asked. Ramybė faced away from the arguing people.

“You Speakers carry information down through the generations,” she said, causing all eyes to turn to her. “The Belmonts and we Gelbėtojais pass things down as well,” she turned to look at Sypha. “Do you remember what we saw down there? Metal veins pumping hot liquid? Torches that light by themselves that exactly fit descriptions written by mine and Meilė’s great-grandfather. Descriptions of the inside of Dracula's castle.” She said. Sypha’s eyes widened. Trevor looked at the Speakers.

“I don't know what's down there, but it's not a messiah,” he sighed and waved his arm. “We’ll leave you all to it.” He said. He and the twins headed towards the door.

“No, no... nonsense. Please, stay with us for as long as you like. I cannot begin to repay what I owe you.” The Elder said. Ramybė looked at the Elder.

“You're leaving tonight, remember? We made an agreement.” She said. The Elder nodded.

“Well, uh, yes. Until then.” He said. Trevor turned towards the door.

“Right. We'll come back later.” He said. “See if you can find some beer.” He said as he left. Ramybė followed. Meilė sighed and walked out as well. She really wanted to stay and help the people, but she also knew that helping got them involved in things Trevor and Ramybė would rather not get involved in. She snickered as she heard Sypha say something about peeing in a bucket and pretending it was beer. Meilė would love to see that.

As the three walked though the street, Meilė glared lightly behind her. She sensed that they were being followed. Ramybė glanced at her sister.

“Meilė, what is it?” She asked. Trevor glanced at the younger Twin.

“Be on your guard,” Meilė said to her sister and her best friend. “We’re being followed.” She said. At that moment, a blade came out and straight at Trevor’s eye. The blade stopped, causing Trevor to gasp and stop.

“Uh, careful. My knife hand's not too steady. I could slip and take your eye out.” The man said. Ramybė gently pushed Meilė behind her. It was the Priest from the alleyway. The one with the missing eye was there as well as other Priests. Trevor saw that knifes were aimed at his best friends as well. He growled slightly.

“The Bishop of Gresit requests you and your friend’s kind attendance at the church.” The priest said. Trevor raised his arms in surrender. Meilė and Ramybė did the same.

“I don't think we’re allowed into churches.” Trevor said.

“The bishop says he'll make an exception in your case.” The Priest said. Trevor chuckled, moving back to stand in front of Ramybė and Meilė.

“No. Seriously. I realize you're trying to menacingly abduct me and my friends, but we’re excommunicated.” Trevor said, hoping to get him and his best friends out of this.

“The bishop said to tell you that the terms of even major excommunication mean that you three are obliged to appear when summoned by the Church.” The Priest said. Trevor frowned and scoffed.

“Well, shit.” He said. The Priests surrounded the three and made them walk.

“Look, if we enter the church and catch fire or something, it's your fault.” Meilė said in a sing song voice. This earned a jab with the pummel of a knife in her side. Meilė groaned. Trevor glared back at the Priests.

“You better watch it.” He said. The Priests opened the doors of the church, leading the three in. The Priests left as the Bishop walked out. Meilė narrowed her eyes at the man. He had a look in his eyes that screamed insane.

“I am the Bishop of Gresit.” The Bishop introduced.

“You're not from around here.” Ramybė said. The Bishop nodded, closing his eyes and opening them again.

“No. I'm originally from Targoviste. I was an aide to the archbishop. How did you divine that, young lady?” The Bishop asked.

“Well, you're not running away screaming like the rest of the locals, for one thing.” Meilė said, placing her hand on her hip. The Bishop scoffed.

“From you three?” He asked.

“From the baby-eating freaks of nature who apparently raid Gresit every night.” Trevor said.

“I'm here to save Gresit.” The Bishop said. Trevor chuckled.

“And how do you intend to do that?” He asked. The Bishop walked away from his podium, starting at the three.

“I brought you here to answer some questions, not ask them.” The Bishop said, walking back to his podium. Meilė narrowed her eyes.

“Well, tough shit! Trevor asked you a question! How exactly do you intend to help these people by killing Speakers?” She asked. The Bishop looked at her.

“The Speakers brought these troubles upon themselves. One cannot live without God,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. He looked down, smiling. “A uite literally, in these days.” He said. Ramybė chuckled.

“You think the night hordes came because people weren't religious enough?” She asked. The Bishop looked at her.

“And you were at Targoviste?” Meilė asked. The Bishop nodded.

“The Archbishop had certain... interests that I believe compromised his ability to protect the city and the country.” He said. “I was sent away long before Dracula came to Targoviste.” He said. “We disagreed on matters of clerical discipline.”

“But you were there for the burning of Dracula's wife. We heard all about that.” Trevor said. The Bishop nodded.

“Oh, yes. I arranged it, in fact,” he said. Trevor, Ramybė and Meilė’s eyes widened. “The woman was a witch. And there can be no doubt now that she consorted with the devil.” The Bishop closed his eyes in disappointment. “She even married him.” He said. Meilė frowned. She did not like this Bishop. Burning an innocent woman just for falling in love.

“I see,” she said. She gestured to Ramybė and Trevor. “And we’re here to be disciplined?” She asked. The Bishop shook his head.

“Not as such. I have a gift for the three you. Your life, Belmont, as well as yours and your sister’s lives, Gelbėtojai,” he said, looking at Ramybė. “Take it and go. Tonight, the Speakers will be dealt with, and then Gresit will be secure.” The Bishop said, closing his eyes. He opened them, looking at the three. “I refuse, however, to toil so hard for the soul of this city with excommunicant heretics within its walls.” He glared harshly at the three. “You could undo everything by your very presence.” The Bishop said. Ramybė’s eyes widened.

“My God. You really believe it, don't you?” She asked. The Bishop looked at them.

“You three will leave Gresit by sundown, or you will not see the morning. Do I make myself clear?” He asked. “Despite the crimes you've committed against my aides, despite the crimes your families has committed against God, you will walk safely until sundown.” The Bishop said. Trevor growled.

“Our families committed no crime!” He shouted. He pointed his finger at the Bishop. “You people simply decided we were wrong to defend this land against the supernatural. And now...”

“You Belmonts and Gelbėtojais have never understood the power of the Word of God!” The Bishop shouted. Meilė gasped lightly. Ramybė quickly stepped in front of her sister to protect her if need be. The Bishop’s eyes shone with insanity and his hands shook. “The people of this city are mine and our Lord's now, and they'll do as I ask in His name,” the Bishop calmed down slightly. “By morning, no Speaker will defile these streets, and you three will either be gone or be dead.” He said. “Do you understand?” The Bishop asked. Trevor glared at the Bishop.

“Yes.” He hissed. The Bishop smiled.

“Do this thing for me, and the matter of your excision from the Church will be something we can discuss.” The Bishop said, turning away from the three. Trevor placed one hand on Ramybė’s shoulder and the other on the small of Meilė’s back, leading them out. He removed his hand from Ramybė’s shoulder, but kept his hand on Meilė’s back.

“No offense, but you are just a bishop. Excommunication came from a little higher up the ladder.” Meilė said as they walked out.

As they closed the door of the church, Meilė sighed.

“We have to warn Sypha and the Speakers.” She said. Trevor placed his hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him.

“We will, don’t worry.” He said.

~~~~~~

The Speakers looked up as the door opened. The three walked in. The Elder smiled.

“Trevor! Ramybė, Meilė! Join us.” He said. Meilė chuckled lightly as she saw Sypha frown when she saw Trevor.

“Sure. By the way, you're all going to die.” Trevor said. The Elder gasped.

“What?” He asked. Meilė sighed. She crossed her arms, closing her eyes. She leaned against the wall with Ramybė and Trevor by her side.

“The current bishop of this place is... Well, he's beyond insane. Over the top and into new lands of just snake-fuckingly crazy.” Meilė said. The wind started to pick up, corresponding with Meilė’s anger. Trevor placed his hand on Meilė’s shoulder, silently telling her to calm down. The wind settled.

“The Bishop is convinced that the salvation of Gresit lays in you people being torn to pieces by a mob.” Trevor said. The Elder sighed.

“When?” He asked. Ramybė looked at them.

“Before the sun goes down. By his logic, you have to die before the night creatures conduct their next raid.” She said.

“What happens if we stay and survive?” The Elder said.

“Well, then the night creatures will come anyway, and the church will blame you, and it'll start all over again.” Trevor said, moving his fingers in a circular motion. The Elder sighed.

“This feels wrong. To be driven out for a lie that will doom these people, it is not a Speaker thing.” The Elder said. Ramybė narrowed her eyes at the Elder.

“We had an agreement.” She said. The Elder looked at the three.

“I don't think it's a Belmont or a Gelbėtojai thing, either.” The Elder said. Meilė gasped slilently and looked down. The Elder had a good point. The Belmonts and the Gelbėtojais were Monster Hunters. They protected the people of Wallachia. But then the church started spreading lies about their families and the Belmonts and Gelbėtojais were excommunicated, chased out and killed. Trevor was the only living son of the Belmonts and Ramybė and Meilė were the only living daughters of the Gelbėtojais.

“I don't care. You need to leave, and leave now.” Trevor said. Sypha stood up.

“I don't think we can leave these people, not in their time of need!” She said. Trevor got up in her face.

“These people believe you're causing their time of need!” He shouted.

“Only because they are being misled by the Church.” The Elder said. “Does one run away when someone tells lies about them? What have the Church said about the Belmonts and the Gelbėtojais? That you have been corrupted by dealings with the supernatural, that you mock God, that you are threat to the common good and that evil follows wherever you go.” The Elder said. He looked right at Trevor and Ramybė. “And what did you three do in the face of that?” He asked. Trevor sighed.

“We didn’t run away.” He said. The Elder cocked an eyebrow up.

“Really. So, what are you running to?” The Elder asked. “Did you have a destination in mind?” He asked. Ramybė narrowed her eyes.

“Are you calling us cowards?” She asked. Meilė shook her head.

“No, Sister. He’s calling us defeated. You, me and Trevor. We fought our battle and you decided we lost.” Meilė said. Ramybė looked at her sister.

“Meilė, you know we didn't have a choice.” She said. Meilė nodded.

“Perhaps.” She gestured to the Speakers. “But they do.” She said. Sypha nodded.

“Meilė’s right. We carry with us the accumulated wisdom of this great country. We will use that to fight our battle.” She said.

“You’ll lose.” Trevor said. The Elder nodded.

“We might well lose. But, if nothing else, we might show someone that, although battles are won and lost, there is a larger war at stake.” The Elder said. Ramybė frowned.

“With Dracula's armies?” She asked. The Elder shook his head.

“No. A war for the soul of our people.” The rest of the Speakers stood. “Because if we truly are the sort of people who will kill one another at the behest of a madman's fantasies, then perhaps it is right and proper that things from Hell should rise up to wipe us out.” The Elder said.

“It's time for those of us who fight that war to stand up and be responsible, Trevor Belmont, Ramybė Gelbėtojai.” Sypha said. She glared at the two. “You should leave now.” She said. Meilė looked at her best friend.

“Trevor?” She asked gently. Trevor sighed and turned around. He then grippped the hilt of his dagger.

“No.” He turned around and faced the Speakers. “You're leaving right now.” He looked at Meilė. “As are you. You are going to join them.” Meilė frowned.

“What? No! I want to help you and Ramybė fight!” She insisted. Trevor gently cupped the sides of her face.

“Meilė, listen to me. I almost lost you today. I’m not going to risk that again. Promise me that you’ll go with the Speakers.” He said. Meilė sighed and looked down.

“Fine,” she said. Trevor nodded.

“Good girl.” He said. He released her and was about to lead the Speakers to a safe place, when Meilė called out to him.

“Trevor!” He turned around. Meilė stood on her tip-toes and kissed the edge of his mouth. “Come back to me.” She said quietly. She turned to her sister. “You as well, sister. Come back to me.” She said. Ramybė smiled.

“I will.” She said.

~~~~~~~~~~

//Here is Chapter 5. Chapter 6 will be coming soon.//

#castelvania #trevor belmont x oc #alucard tepes x oc

[crowleyellestair]

Bonds- Emiel Regis (Part 1)

AN// I have been sitting on this for a while now. I hope y’all are in for a ride. Please let me know if you want the part two, and I know someone has requested a romantic one shot, and it is in my WIPs, so don’t fret!

Warning: A swear or two and bloo consumption 

Summary: He had come to say goodbye to his best friend and old flame, but what happens when they try to save him from being an anathema? How can they do it and still get out alive?

Masterlist

The road to the vineyard seemed to somewhat brighten his mood, though he knew it wasn’t going to be a lasting remedy. Seeing his friend Geralt had always made his day, even when they had to converse over what do to about Dettlaff. And it was all made even greater when Y/n had asked to stay at the vineyard for a while. She was an old Hanse member, and the one to accept and befriend him first. There had been something there, but after the castle, he hadn’t heard from her. She had been a sword for hire- a reformed assassin, even back in those days. Y/n only found herself in Toussaint because it was the last place she had on the continent where people weren’t trying to track her.

But for Regis, it felt like fate was trying to give him a second chance. At what? He hadn’t figured that out yet, but seeing her again brought a new life in him. Sadly, this was going to be a goodbye trip. The meeting he had been walking from were of more intelligent vampires discussing his anathema. They had told him to either assimilate, or execution. Execution by hunt was always an option as well, if he decided to run. Of course, that was what he chose, knowing he could easily outrun most. He had a fortnight to decide, so he was planning on using the time to say goodbye.

He knew he didn’t need to knock on the door, but he always had. When it swung open, he was met with Y/n’s bright eyes, face covered in dirt. When she registered who he was, a large smile formed to match her gaze.

“Emiel, what brings you by? Come in, obviously, though if you prefer to talk outside, I’d understand.” It brought a warmth to his chest, knowing he walked in on something interesting. There was always something going on with her, and he knew he was going to miss it just as much, if not more than before. Regis had learned to let go of love long ago, for loving a human is ridiculous. Their lifespan is like a blink in a higher vampire’s life.

“What could possibly push our conversation outdoors?” Under the dirt, he could see a small flush. Something he always noticed, but knew he couldn’t move towards. For his own sake. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t know what could happen if he had to lose her while in his arms.

“I had broken my nightstand a while back, so I made a new one. I found a large split in this one, and I found a stock pile of resin, so I’m putting it in the wood and adding color. It should look like a river running through canyons when I’m done.” He couldn’t help the smile that formed due to her excitement. “The smell is atrocious, however.”

“Ah, well thank you for looking out for my nose.” She let out a soft laugh before stepping towards him and closing the door behind her. Y/n was wearing large forger’s gloves that engulfed her arms, which brought a twinge to his heart. He hadn’t really used the descriptor, but adorable seemed to be the only one that fit what he saw. She started walking and he followed, not knowing their destination, though he knew that if he had the chance- the will- he would follow her anywhere. The two walked to the green house where a small table and two chairs had been placed inside. A new installment that Regis appreciated. He knew this was her doing, and not a whim of the witcher, who had been working on the other side of the small shelter. Y/n pulled out a chair for him before plopping down on the other. He flashed a small smile before sitting.

“Are you done?” Geralt’s low grumble called. She gave a small snort and a roll of her eyes before looking to the man sitting across from her. He could feel himself swallow, not wanting to ruin the content aura around them. He had foolishly assumed that he could break the news one by one and they would be in a passive state that he couldn’t ruin. He folded his hands, placing them onto the table.

“I must inform you both of something important. I have to ask beforehand, however, that there is no other option, and it hurts me just as much you.” He watched Y/n’s smile drop, and her back straighten. She too leaned onto the table, almost reaching out to hold his hands, but refraining. Geralt popped up over the long shoots of Fool’s Parsley before walking over to the table. “I must leave Toussaint indefinitely.”

Y/n scoffed, looking unbelieving, before it dawned that he wasn’t joking. Geralt’s arms crossed over his chest before putting in his two cents.

“No.” Regis’ eyes dragged to meet his, eyebrows raised. Geralt looked right pissed, before visibly trying to calm himself. “We can help.” The vampire softy shook his head before retorting,

“My friend, did you not hear my preface?” He grunted.

“I did, but I don’t agree.” Y/n quickly interjected.

“Emiel, can you cut the act?” she asked as a last saving grace. “You surely didn’t think you could walk in here, tell us ‘I have to leave forever’ and think we wouldn’t stop the world to keep you here? I might amuse the thought that you think we don’t care about you, if you really did think you could do that.” His unbelieving gaze shot to her.

“I don’t think that-.”

“Then you must have gone lame, because we will stop at nothing to help.” Geralt gave a warning glare to the woman.

“Y/n.” His gaze went back to the other man, gaze softening. “She is right. Regis, what happened?” He sighed, leaning back in the small chair, and let his hands grip the strap of his shoulder bag.

“I have been declared anathema.” The woman all but shot out of her chair.

“Excommunicated? But you didn’t actually kill Dettlaff!” He nodded.

“Yes, but no one else knows that but us.” Y/n started to pace around, and Geralt plopped down in the open spot, arms remaining crossed. The three stayed silent for a handful of moments before y/n stopped. Her hands all but waved as she breathlessly asked,

“What exactly did they say?”

“Well, while as you know, when you were retrieving Syanna, we visited the Unseen Elder. He had spoken to them, giving me two options. Assimilate or death. I’m not fond of either, so I have decided to leave.” She scoffed yet again.

“What does ‘assimilate’ mean? ‘Cause it sounds like they’re giving you a chance to live freely.” Regis gave a curt nod before finally dropping his gaze to the ground.

“I would need to show that I started to partake once again in drinking human blood.” A small sigh left her lips before a hand came up to rub her forehead. She continued to pace.

“They would really do that?” Geralt asked, somewhat confused. Regis gave a small shrug looking to the witcher.

“I am known as abstinent throughout all intelligence. It would be a right punishment to feed on something I hold dear. And I’m sure many would like to see if I relapse.”  The men were shocked when the ex-assassin kicked an empty bucket near her. She silently picked it up, flipped it, then sat on it before resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees.

“How likely are you to?” The men looked questioningly at the other before Geralt asked for clarification. “I mean, how likely are you to relapse?” A hand came off the strap of his bag to wave in the air for a moment, as if he could snatch the answer from the air.

“Slim. I’ve been a surgeon since my declaration, I should be fine. Though, I refuse to partake in such things. They would likely snatch someone from the streets, have me perform the ritual, then consume them once I was finished.” The pads of her fingertips rubbed against her lips before pursing them in thought.

“What if you brought someone?” Regis’ eye snapped to her, shaking his head.

“No.”

“I’m just suggesting-.”

“I would never subject you to that, Y/n.” She stood again, aggressively.

“Emiel, for once in your life, stop being selfless! It’s a one-time thing, right? You put on a show, and they accept you back. You wouldn’t have to run until they catch you and kill you. I’m just trying to take a page from your book, mind you, and help. Helping people who don’t want to be helped is your specialty. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to help you, Emiel.” The air in the small space was palpable. Geralt knew that what she was saying is true. After Veglefortz, she had sought revenge. She went on a roaring rampage in the vampire’s name. That was the main reason she had to disappear after so long of being a reformed killer. But the witcher also knew the love Regis had for her. Knowing that, he knew the man would never put her in danger even asking Geralt to try and keep her out of the Dettlaff situation.

But he too didn’t want to lose his friend again.

“Well, what if I-.”

“Geralt, they know you. They would never believe me. And though it would take a while, they will forget. I can easily fend off anyone who would try and come after me-.”

“I remember quite well how you were thrown against that wall like an unwanted toy.” Her tone was stern, but her gaze held immediate regret. “Why won’t you let us help? You’ve given everything- even your life to save ours. Let us save yours.” Regis was silent, and she sighed while pushing to stand once more. She turned as to not show either of them the tears that were threatening to spill. “Think on it, and come back when you get your head out of your ass.”

Geralt rested an arm on the table, and wiped the stress from his eye. They were silent once more.

“I simply wanted to come and say my goodbyes.”

“Why are you so against this? You’re a logical man. You must see the benefits.”

“There’s only one way I could ensure her safety in this ordeal, and I refuse to let that happen.”

“What could that be?”

“We’d need to form a bond.”

---- 

Y/n’s stare into the cup was a long one. He had hoped she was contemplating her decision- rethinking her selflessness. He would completely understand. He hated that they were doing this in the first place. He tried to explain later that this wasn’t a ‘simple, one-time plan’. This would last at least a century due to the changes she would have to undergo. She would be giving up her freedom to roam without the man following her every move. He knew of the love she held for him. It was re-engrained into him after Geralt had laid into him. Geralt explained how guilty he felt for confessing for the woman, but he couldn’t sit idly by when they had a solution.

Once the two were bonded, he wouldn’t be able to give her up to someone else- not that he’d ever want that to happen to begin with. However, he had already prepared himself for that news years ago. Now he was faced with living out his days with the one he loved, and who loved him in return. Still, she was younger with a sense of naivety which he felt he was exploiting somehow.

“If you-.”

“I’m just trying to psych myself up.” Her gaze flicked towards his. “You might have a knack for this, but I’m new to the whole ‘drinking blood’ scene.” Regis tried to smile, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so.

“It seems like more than it is. I diluted it with water, assuming that it would help it go down faster.” She craned her neck so she could look into his eyes. They were sat on his bed in the cemetery, Y/n resting in his lap. Her back was pressed to his chest, and his arms were wrapped around hers.

Regis had explained to her earlier that when she consumed his blood, it would course through her, and coat itself around everything. It would merge and create hybrid blood cells to help slow her aging. It wouldn’t do anything except give her a longer life span and help fend off any sickness she would face. There was also, of course, the link it would create between them to allow the other to feel the emotions they are feeling. Until Regis completed his side, however, it would be a one way link, which he was worried about. It was just another thing he would feel guilty about. They were sitting like that though due to the pain she would face. It would be hot and searing, and Regis didn’t want her to harm herself.

There have been only two other Higher vampires known to bond with a human, and one had failed. The poor lad drank the blood of the vampire, and scratched his own flesh away to the point of no return.

“Tell me something.”

“What?”

“Anything; tell me anything. Keep my mind off of what you said I’d feel.” She brought the cup to her lips, but didn’t tip back until she heard him start.

“Have I told you that there has been a book written about me?” Y/n swallowed as fast as she could, though there was a lot to take back. When it was finished, he grabbed the cup, and paced it on the makeshift shelf next to the bed. “It wasn’t even Dandelion’s doing. I had helped a man survive a fire.” Her head rested against his shoulder, and her nose softly brushed his neck. His arms tightened around her, successfully clamping her against him. His hands laced with hers, in an attempt to comfort.

At first, he thought it somehow didn’t work until her breathing became labored and her legs started to shake. He could hear her trying to stifle groans of pain, so he continued, trying to keep her wishes.

“It’s called ‘My Night with a Vampire’. I thought it was a smut novel at first. Y/n let out a breathless laugh that turned into a groan. Her back arched away from his chest, and her head flew back. She continued to try and stifle the noises, but he could hear the agony behind them.

“You’re…saying it-it wasn’t?” Her tone was harsh and pushed threw gritted teeth. Y/n’s back slowly slumped back against him, and she quickly fell unconscious.

#witcher imagine #witcher x reader #blood and wine #emiel regis imagine #emiel regis x reader #geralt

[penzyroamin]

penzy first of all... i can’t wait for ch 2 u know more than anyone that i live and breath for flowers you’ve got me all excited now! second, talk to me abt ur country music recs! and thirdly give me that exr/javid character analysis RIGHT NOW because it is giving me Emotions!!

flowers ch 2 has everything.... banter, sweet sibling moments, artistic metaphors, and charlie

COUNTRY MUSIC RECS!!! ok so obviously we’ve got the classics. reba, the chicks, shania, taylor, dolly. these are obvious ones. once again to reiterate for those of you who havent caught up with the chicks: gaslighter saved 2020.

mickey guyton is really wonderful! her record has been WOEFULLY misusing her, but she has an ep called “bridges” that went out this year and she performed at the acm awards, so hopefully she’ll see some more attention and chance to build her career soon! she’s got a gorgeous voice, especially live, and she breaks perfectly out of the usual blueprint for radio country. each of her songs feels distinct and different from the others while still cohesive as all hers. she also makes really good use of some background choir moments if that’s a selling point like it is for me fhskjdhskhds. she’s also unabashedly political with her music! bridges has songs about facing inequality and getting through the division in the country, plus getting wasted and fake bitches fsjdhsjhds. this is country after all. i cannot comprehend the guts it took for her, as the first black woman to perform solo at the acm awards, to sing about how we fail to create a better world for our daughters. i’m excited to see where she goes now that she has more attention and an opportunity to build on it!!!

for some great gay country: jamie wyatt!!! she came out within the last year and has two albums out, the most recent being “neon cross”! she has a really classic country sound AND a gorgeous alto voice, which is always awesome to hear. she’s dedicated herself to making country a more inclusive genre. specific songs to check out: “rattlesnake girl” and “make something outta me”!! she also wins coolest album cover. it makes me gayer than i was before.

chely wright’s been making country for decades, she has eight? i think albums, but she pretty much got excommunicated after she came out in 2010 so she hasn’t gotten a bunch of buzz recently. her 2016 album, “i am the rain”, has sort of country “tapestry” energy, and i highly recommend it!

i also love yola-- she has a gorgeous deep voice, and her album “walk through fire” is fucking brilliant. she got nominated at the grammys for it, so i’m really really excited to see what she does going forward. her music just makes me feel very Warm and comforted but also melancholy and its just... hot damn walk through fire is good. her music has a soul feel to it in addition to the country roots!

anyways!! if youre new to country and looking for a good entry into the genre, go for the classics list i put up there, and if you like country and you aren’t familiar with any of the less ultra famous artists, check them out for some good tunes!

OK CHARACTER ANALYSIS TIME.

this ask is massive i regret nothing

i will probably go more into detail later but here’s what i have right now: jack is a naturally supportive person who’s been forced into leadership, and davey is a natural leader who’s been repressed into staying in the background.

on jack’s end-- i think he’s really in a situation where he doesn’t want to lead or be in charge, it’s just something he kind of fell/was forced into. in my head, since he goes out of his way to help and support people, he gradually became the person all the newsies went to for help, and eventually that formed into him being a leader for the unit. but it’s VERY obvious he isn’t entirely comfortable/okay with it-- at his worst moment, in santa fe, he is literally begging to be somewhere where people won’t depend on him but will still care about him. another thing that really points towards this would be that he only resolves to stay in new york when he realizes that he has people to help him and he doesn’t have to shoulder leadership alone anymore

on davey’s end-- this might be a Hot Take, but i think davey’s a much more natural leader than jack is. look at wwh reprise: his phrasing specifically takes on a lot of very classic leadership ideas in a way that almost makes him seem like a general planning strategies. he’s more capable of looking at the larger picture-- partially because jack cares so much about the newsies and can’t bear to see them getting hurt, but i think it also comes from davey being really good at structuring those large-scale, big-picture ideas. i think we often gloss over the rally because it goes to shit, but that’s his idea! in my eyes, he’s someone who’s been taught to always keep his head down and stay out of the spotlight-- considering that his family is poor, jewish, and possibly newer to america, and that he was still in school, which would have likely been a hostile environment for him, there’s plenty of reason for him to do just that. but i think it’s very telling what finally breaks him and gets him to join the strike-- jack’s speech wears him down, sure, but it’s jack ASKING HIM FOR ADVICE that finally wins him over.

anyways. i think the idea of jack as someone who doesn’t want to lead but kind of has to and davey as a natural leader who has forced himself into the background for safety is VASTLY more interesting than like. jack is a loudmouth and davey’s shy. but that’s just My Thoughts. i will polish them more later fsjdghsjgds thank you for asking me about them!!!

#this is so long fskdhskhdkshds #asks #mjs diner tag #<- that is your tag now congratulations.

[wherepoetswentodie]

BOM 10 Day Challenge Day 1!

Line Prompt - “Let it burn”

(This is longer than I meant it to be, soz)

It felt exceptionally cruel to have his entire life fall apart during a time when his life should have been coming together. 

Kevin sat at the kitchen table, staring down at the Book of Arnold in his hand and wondering how much further he could fall before he was actually six feet under. Arnold sat next to him, humming under his breath as he scribbled new passages. He occasionally stopped to ask for a spelling of a word, or if God would really reference the Return of the Jedi when talking about loving each other no matter what. 

“No, he would,” Arnold said without even waiting for Kevin’s opinion, “because everyone still loved Luke and Leia even though they were siblings and kissed each other,” 

“Yeah,” Kevin said with about as much enthusiasm as someone who had just discovered he had made out with his sibling, “He’d totally do that,” 

Arnold beamed at him and turned back to his work, ramping up the volume of his humming. Clenching his jaw, because everything was just so  loud, Kevin stood up from the chair, muttered something about going on a walk and left through the back door of the hut. The only problem with walking away from Arnold was that his incessant humming was no longer drowning out the thoughts that Kevin would rather not think. 

He collapsed under the shade of a tree and squeezed his eyes shut, fingers curling and uncurling in his hair as his brain went into overdrive, reminding him of everything he was trying to forget;  the General. Disappointed parents. The General. Disappointed parents Failed mission. Excommunication. The General. Disappointed parentsFailed mission. Excommunication. The General. Disappointed parents. The General. Failed mission. Excommunication. 

On and on it went, like some fairground carousel made up of all the reasons he despised waking up in the morning. Sometimes, he wondered how he had made it a whole 10 months without giving in. Though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to give into: was it his parents and the Church? Did he just want to run off home and never think about Uganda again? Or did he just want to jump into the lake and hope he never came back up? 

That thought terrified him more than any. He was quite sure that he could deal with facing his parents, but wanting everything to end...he couldn’t even fathom that. Not anymore. There was a time when he was convinced that taking his last breath wouldn’t be the last thing he ever did, now he wasn’t so sure. Infact, the only thing that he  was sure of was that taking his last breath would be the last thing he ever did. That fact itself didn’t scare him. His being so okay with death being final was what scared him, because he’d try and run from death. Death meant that he didn’t have to think so much and didn’t have to relieve the worst moment of his life every time he tried to sleep. 

The sun beginning to set was his cue to go back to the hut, because the last thing he needed was Connor snapping at him for being out so late. He hesitated on the backstep of the hut for a moment, wondering if he should spend the night elsewhere when Elder Davis spotted him and gestured for him to join the rest of the Elders at the table. 

“Come on, Price,” he said, patting the seat next to him, “You need to eat,” 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kevin was vaguely aware of how Davis had volunteered at a shelter for troubled kids before coming on his mission and was momentarily worried that Davis thought he was like those kids. And if Kevin’s life could get any worse - and he really didn’t want it to - Davis was known for conducting therapy sessions with his fellow Elders, and Kevin didn’t need a therapy session. He just needed a nap. Or a strong coffee. Perhaps both. 

His worry was cut short, however, when he realised that his seat was facing Connor. Of course, there was nothing wrong with Connor. Connor was his  boyfriend,  after all. He just wasn’t his boyfriend in front of everyone else. Kevin was a great boyfriend in private, showering Connor with all the love and affection that he deserved, and even presenting him with the occasional bunch of flowers. In public, however, he knew that he was nothing short of terrible; he barely even  looked at him. It was stupid, he knew it was, because the other Elders wouldn’t care, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do something as innocent as hold Connor’s hand when they were walking through the village. 

“Are you okay, Elder?” Davis asked, gently touching his arm, “You look worried,” 

Kevin flinched at the touch and nodded his head, feeling Connor’s eyes burning into him, “I’m fine,” 

Davis immediately withdrew his hand, instead settling for a comforting smile instead. Coming to the conclusion that Davis  definitely thought that he was like one of those kids from the shelter, Kevin quickly looked away and struck up a conversation with Arnold. 

For the rest of the meal, Kevin was painfully aware of Elder Davis’ stare and he had half the mind to turn around and tell him to fuck off, because he really was okay and didn’t need a therapy session off anyone.

“Thank-you for cooking, Elder Schrader,” Connor said once the plates had been cleared, “How’s everyone's day been?”

Elder Thomas groaned and slumped sideways into Elder Church, “Our day, has been like  Hell ,” 

Church sighed and put his arm around his boyfriend as he pressed a kiss to his temple. At once, Kevin averted his eyes because he knew that Connor wanted to be as open as them, but Kevin just couldn’t bring himself to. He still flushed bright red when he walked by their room and heard the squeaking of bed springs. Everyone else seemed to find the fact that they were having sex hilarious, but Kevin struggled to find the funny side of it. Arnold said that the reason he didn’t find it funny was because he had a stick up his ass and needed to lighten up. Kevin hated that phrase, but never really felt like explaining exactly why. 

“It wasn’t that bad at all,” Church said, “Chris just saw a snake,” 

“It tried to attack me!” Thomas exclaimed. 

“It didn’t, Church said, “it just looked at him and then slithered away,” 

Connor rolled his eyes at his mission companion before turning back to the tabe, “Anyone else have any near death experiences?” 

“I almost fell off the roof when I was trying to fix it. Broke it a bit more.” Elder Neeley shrugged. 

“Is it fixed?” Connor asked anxiously, “because we really can’t sleep here tonight if it’s broke. We need to-”

“Chill, it’s fixed,” Neeley said, “Well, I didn’t fix it. Naba fixed it for me. Apparently us ‘ white boys can’t do anything, ’” 

“That’s a nice insight into her and Cunningham's relationship,” Zelder said. 

Arnold frowned, “Huh? I don’t - I don’t get the joke.” 

Connor put his hand over his mouth as he giggled, “It’s okay, Elder Cunningham. It was a stupid joke,” 

“Why are you laughing then?” Arnold asked, frown deepening, “What does fixing a roof have to do with my girlfriend? I don’t get it,” 

Kevin just about managed to bite back a laugh at the look on Arnold’s face. His frown very quickly turned into a scowl as the laughter around the table started to increase in volume. He slumped back in his chair, arms tightly folded. 

“I don’t get it!” Arnold exclaimed. He turned to Kevin and tugged on his arm, “Why are you laughing? What’s the joke? Tell me! Kev!”

Kevin hastily shook his head, “I’m not - I’m not laughing!” 

“‘ White boys can’t do anything  ’” Church said with a chuckle, “So you can’t do anything for her...like...  you know ...”

Arnold stared at him for a moment and then turned bright red, “Shut up!” 

“Alright, alright, leave him alone, now..” Connor said, eyes sparkling from laughing so much, “Anyone else do anything fun today? What about you, Elder Price?”

Kevin jumped, his knee hitting the underside of the table and causing his eyes to water. Blinking his eyes back into focus, he shook his head. 

“No. I didn’t - I didn’t do anything...” 

Connor raised his eyebrows, “Nothing?” 

Kevin shook his head, “No, I - you didn’t give me any jobs today. I didn’t have anything to do. I mean, I helped Arnold with the Book of Arnold a little but...well, that’s about it.” 

Connor gave him a strange look before he addressed the rest of the table again, smiling like nothing had happened. 

“Great!” Connor said, “Well, if no one else has anything to say, we can probably settle down for the evening. I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me,”

He gave Kevin a pointed look who nodded a little and hung around in the kitchen a little longer. He poured himself a cup of coffee and, when everyone was gone, he hurried into Connor’s office, quickly shutting the door behind him. 

“Coffee, Kev, really?” 

Kevin scowled at him, “What’s wrong with my coffee?”

“It’s late! You’ll never sleep tonight!” 

Kevin shrugged and sat down in the chair opposite Connor’s desk, taking a massive gulp, “I’ll be fine. I’m not dead yet, am I?”

“Not yet,” Connor said, pulling some paperwork towards him, “Can you please stop buying the really expensive coffee? It’s making budgeting hard,” 

“Fine,” Kevin mumbled, “but the cheap stuff doesn’t do it for me,” 

Connor shook his head and looked up at him, “Tell me, then.” 

Kevin frowned, “Uh...tell you...tell you what? That I - That I love you?” 

Connor laughed a little, “No, not that. Well, I love you too, darling, but...what’s bothering you?”

“That you’re making me buy cheap coffee?” 

“Kevin. I’m being serious. There’s something wrong with you. What is it?” 

“Nothing. I swear, nothing is bothering me,” Kevin said, “I’m just tired. Hence the coffee,” 

Connor narrowed his eyes at him, "Okay. But you can tell me anything, Kev," 

Kevin nodded, "Yeah, I know," 

For the rest of the night, he could not do much but wonder how on Earth he had ever enjoyed talking about himself so much. 

 ~~~~~~~

“Can I talk to you?”

Kevin groaned quietly and placed his mug back on the kitchen table. He turned to face Connor, almost certain he was about to get shouted at for slacking off his chores the day before. 

“I, um, I just - I wanted to talk to you,” Connor said, “I - uh...are you alright?” 

“Am I...alright?” Kevin asked. 

Connor nodded, “Yeah. Are you alright?” 

Kevin stared at him, “Uh...yeah? Why are you - why are you asking?” 

Connor gave him a searching look, one that made him feel like he could see right through him. 

“You haven’t been the same since the day of Nabulungi’s play,” 

“I’m fine,” Kevin said hastily, “I told you what happened. I got lost and then - and then I got mugged and couldn’t find my way back to the hut. That’s all. That’s why I was gone so long,” 

Connor nodded, but Kevin didn’t think that he looked convinced and not for the first time, he wished that he had Arnold’s knack for lying. His disappearance before Nabulungi’s play had been the reason for most of their fights, and Kevin had the feeling that they were heading straight for another one.  

“It’s a small village,” Connor said carefully, “Hard to get lost it,” 

“It was - it was late,” 

“Why are you lying to me, Kevin?” 

Kevin clenched his jaw, “I told you what happened. It’s up to you whether you want to believe me or not,” 

“I don’t,” 

“Fine,” Kevin snapped, “Don’t believe me then!”  

Connor narrowed his eyes, his tone almost immediately changing, “I also noticed that you did none of your chores yesterday. Don’t let it happen again,” and with that, he turned on his heel and stormed off into his office. 

“Fucking annoying,” Kevin muttered to himself, snatching his mug back off the table and disappearing upstairs to his and Arnold’s shared room. 

Shutting the door behind him, Kevin dropped to his knees beside his bed and reached underneath, hand scrabbling on the hardfloor until he found the box that he was looking for. He dragged it out from underneath the bed and pulled the lid out peering inside at a tattered Book of Mormon in a plastic bag, and an equally tattered uniform. Carefully, he took the uniform out and laid it across his lap. 

He ran his hand over the dirty fabric, and it was like he was able to pinpoint exactly where every mark came from; the blood on the left side of his collar had dripped down from his nose, and the blood on the pocket had gushed from a gash on his temple. He picked up the trousers and held them up; he could just about see dried blood congealed on the back of them. Whenever he looked at them, he could never quite understand how he had managed to make it all the way from the General’s camp to Gotswanas on foot. It would almost be impressive if it wasn’t so tragic. 

“I’m sorry, Kev, I shouldn’t have - what are you doing?”

Kevin yelped and jerked away from the door, holding the trousers close to his chest. Connor stood with one hand still on the doorknob, staring down at him with a slight frown on his face. 

“N-Nothing!” Kevin stuttered, “Just - laundry. I’m doing laundry.” 

“We put the laundry on an hour ago. You’re a bit late for -” he paused again and stooped down, picking up the shirt, “What on earth have you been doing in this shirt?” 

“Nothing!” Kevin said again, leaping up and snatching the shirt out of his hands, “It’s - It’s nothing,” 

Connor narrowed his eyes and kicked the door shut with his foot, “You’re lying to me. Again. What the heck is going on, Kevin?” 

“Nothing!” Kevin snapped.

“So why the heck do you have this Book of Mormon in a  plastic bag ?” Connor asked, waving it around. 

“Don’t touch that!” Kevin said quickly. 

“Why?” Connor asked. 

“Because...Because-” before he could even try and collect himself, he burst into tears. 

“Kevin!” Connor exclaimed, hurrying forward and wrapping him in his arms, “It’s - It’s okay...please speak to me, love,” 

Kevin shook his head, gripping onto the back of Connor’s shirt, “C-Can’t,” 

“Okay,” Connor said quietly, “Okay, so...so don’t speak. That’s okay. What do you - what do you want me to do? Do you want me to go?” 

“N-No!” Kevin exclaimed, gripping onto him harder when he had started to pull away, “No. N-Not yet. I need to - I need to - I need you here. Please. Just - don’t go. Please,” 

“Okay,” Connor whispered, kissing his forehead, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here,” 

It took Kevin almost three hours to find it in himself to speak. It seemed that years of repressing his feelings had allowed Connor to deal with even the worst news well. As Kevin sobbed his way through the story of what really happened, Connor sat opposite him with what could only be described as a blank look on his face. Anyone else might have found this rude, but Kevin was thankful; the last thing he needed was for Connor to start crying, too. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispered, pulling him in for another hug, “I’m so, so sorry,” 

Kevin carried on bawling into his shoulder and even allowed Connor to pull him into his lap, something that he usually would have hated. But even could admit that the feeling of Connor’s arm wrapped around him and a hand running through his hair was nice. 

“I - I should have t-told you sooner but I didn’t - I didn’t know h-how, I’m s-sorry,” Kevin sobbed. 

“Uh, uh,” Connor said softly, shifting so that they were lay side by side, “You shouldn’t be apologising for this.  I should be apologising for constantly pushing you to talk about it,” 

Kevin sniffled and nuzzled his face into Connor’s neck, trying his very best to make himself as small as possible for someone who was 6’2 and lying next to someone who was 5’7. Had this been under any other circumstances, Kevin would have been mortified at how he was acting and even more mortified that they were  cuddling  in  bed. 

“I want to forget about it. I want to move on,” Kevin mumbled into his neck. 

Connor pressed a kiss into his hairline, “Holding onto that uniform and the book isn’t going to help you. How often do you look at them?”

Kevin shrugged, “I - I dunno. Not - Not everyday,” 

“Do you - Do you want to get rid of them?” Connor asked quietly. 

“I don’t - I don’t know,” Kevin whispered, “I don’t know what I’m meant to do,” 

“You don’t need to,” Connor whispered, “We’ll wait until you’re ready. Whenever that is,” 

Kevin nodded and wiped his eyes, frowning when Connor untangled himself from him and leaned back against the headboard of his bed. Kevin sat up and rubbed his eyes. 

“What’re - What’re you doing?” Kevin asked, “Come back,” 

Connor’s cheeks flushed a little, “Oh. S-Sorry. You just - we’ve never...we’ve never cuddled like this before...I didn’t think you’d want to...” 

Kevin shook his head and tugged on his hand until he lay next to him again. Silently, Kevin pressed his face against Connor’s chest and wrapped his arms around his waist. Connor tensed for a moment before putting his arms around him, gently stroking the back of his head. 

“I don’t - I don’t mean to push you away...” Kevin whispered against his chest, “‘m sorry,” 

“Please stop apologising,” Connor whispered, “I don’t want you apologising for anything else,” 

“‘m sorry,” Kevin mumbled, “Oh, no, sorry, I didn’t mean to...” he trailed off with a giggle, “Just gonna shut up,”

Connor laughed a little and leaned down to kiss him, “Have a nap. You look exhausted. Is that - Is that why you drink so much coffee? So you don’t have to sleep,” 

Tears sprang to Kevin’s eyes again and he was grateful that he was able to hide his face as he nodded, “Get nightmares...” 

Connor’s arm tightens around him and he buries his nose in Kevin’s hair, “Please try and sleep...” 

Kevin wanted nothing more than to stay awake; the thought of having a nightmare in front of Connor made him want to jump into the lake. They were never like the ones in the movies, where the protagonist would jerk around in bed before waking up until they woke up with a gasp. They were more violent, and usually ended with Kevin waking up with a scream dying in his throat, convinced that he was back at the General’s camp. 

“I don’t want to have a nightmare,” Kevin whispered, looking up at him with terrified eyes. 

“It’s okay if you do,” Connor said quietly, “I don’t - I don’t mind,” 

As Kevin finally drifted off to sleep, he wondered if the movies had got it right with the notion that falling asleep in the arms of a boyfriend or girlfriend was all that was needed to stave off nightmares. 

He woke up ten minutes later convinced that the arms around him belonged to the General.

~~~~~~ 

 “District meeting!” 

Connor’s voice pulled Kevin out of what had been a relatively peaceful sleep by his standards. He groaned a little and glanced over at the clock flashing 10:28 at him. 

“Two minutes!” Kevin yelled down the stairs, “it’s our day off!”

“Now!” Connor yelled back. 

A groan from the bed next to him told him that Arnold was awake, and not very happy about it. 

“Control your boyfriend, Kevin,” 

“I wish I could,” he grumbled back, dragging himself out of bed and over to his closet, pulling a uniform on and feeling thoroughly pissed off about it. 

By the time Kevin was ready and had coaxed Arnold out of bed, Connor was standing in the empty kitchen, impatiently tapping his foot. Kevin gave him a quick peck on the lips as he passed him and poured himself a coffee. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Connor asked quietly, putting his hand on the small of Kevin’s back.  

Kevin nodded, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that no one was going to walk in the kitchen and catch them together. 

“Fine. I didn’t have a nightmare,” 

Connor beamed and kissed his cheek, “I’m glad,”  

When the other Elders finally made it to the kitchen, Kevin hurried away from Connor and plopped down next to Arnold, doing his best to not feel like the world's worst boyfriend - though he was under no pretence that he was a good one. He was average, teetering on below average. 

“What’s going on, Con? I’m tired,” Elder Thomas asked, looking as though he was still very much half asleep. 

“I know that today is our day off, but I want to do something fun for us all tonight and it involves some preparation,” Connor said excitedly, “I think we should have a bonfire!” 

Kevin could tell that Connor thought that his words would be met with excitement instead of groans by the way the grin melted off his face. Everyone turned to look at Elder Thomas, knowing that he would be the only one able to call Connor out on his strange ideas without getting shouted at. 

“A bonfire?” Thomas repeated, “Connor, it’s fucking boiling. Why would we want  more heat? And the hut is made of wood and straw! We’d burn the place down!” 

Connor rolled his eyes, “Not if it’s  controlled, silly! I just thought it would be nice! We could roast those marshmallows that I bought from Kampala and - and...well, it could be a bit..therapeutic,” 

“Therapeutic?” Davis asked, “What’s therapeutic about a bonfire?”

Connor’s face flushed a little, “Well, I know that - I know that we’ve all had some...uh...letters from home that haven’t been so nice and we all have things that maybe we’re...holding onto, so why not - why burn them? Let it all go?” 

Kevin looked down at his coffee. Connor McKinley was many things, but subtle was not one of them. He knew exactly why Connor was doing this, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug him for it or not. 

“If it’s a bad idea then we can just-”

“No,” Church said, cutting Connor off, “I think it’s a good idea. Why - Why not? I’ve got letters off my dad,” 

Connor beamed, “Great! Neeley and Church, you can go and collect firewood and anything else that you think will burn  aannddd Schrader and Zelder can go to the market to try and find some matches or a lighter or something. Just find a way to set something on fire,” 

“I feel like Ghali knows how to set things on fire,” Zelder said, standing up from the table and dragging Schrader with him. 

Connor glanced over at Kevin, “Everything okay, Elder Price?”

Kevin nodded and forced a smile onto his face, “Yeah. I’m good,” 

By the time the bonfire was roaring, Kevin was far from okay. He sat on the back step of the mission hut, clinging onto the box so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He watched as his fellow missionaries threw various letters into the fire, whooping as they watched them burn. 

“Hey,” Connor said, sitting down next to him and holding a wad of letters that Kevin knew to be off his family, “You gonna do it?”

“Scared,” Kevin whispered. 

“Why?” Connor asked. 

Kevin bit the inside of his lip, “Ever since - ever since it happened, I’ve not felt real. And I - looking at this stuff it - it helps me feel real,” he looked down at the box and then at Connor, “I know that - that doesn’t make sense. And it's not like - it's not like this is going to make it all better, is it?"

Connor shook his head, "No, but it's a start, isn't it?"

Kevin shrugged. If he himself couldn't understand what was happening in his head, how was he meant to be explain it to Connor?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Connor said. 

“No, I - I need to do it,” Kevin mumbled, standing up, “Can we - Can we do it together?”

Connor smiled, “Yeah. Together,” 

The moment they reached the bonfire, Connor dropped his letters into the fire. Kevin watched as Connor’s face split into a wide grin. The fire cast soft light across his features, making his skin glow and eyes sparkle. 

"Together," Connor reminded him softly. 

Kevin nodded and took a took a deep breath, turning back to the fire. Regret set in the moment he let go of the box and watched as it fell into the fire. He launched himself forward, desperate to get it back, but arms wrapped around his middle and dragged him away. 

“Kev, baby, no. It’s gonna - you’re gonna hurt yourself,”  

And even though he knew that people were watching and would ask one million questions the next day, Kevin twisted around in Connor’s arms and held on, because there was nothing else that he could do. Still clinging onto Connor, Kevin turned around to face the fire, watching the box and it’s insides slowly crumble into ash. 

“I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have done that,” he cried, “I - I need it,”

“You don’t,” Connor whispered, “Let it burn,”

#BOM10DayChallenge #tbom musical #kevin price #connor mckinley #mcpricely #elder mckinley #elder price #this was long and dark i am so sorry

[beyondconfessor]

The Infernal Contact [9/16]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: A muffled roar of laughter came from inside, and Zelda closed her eyes, willing the party to end. She didn't know how she could return to that room, next to that woman. Every minute next to her felt like slow, drawn foreplay between them.

N.B.: Also posted on AO3

Zelda smoothed down her dress as another knock came to the door. She'd spent the whole day organising everything and had just managed to get dressed in time for the first guest to arrive.

Aldrich had been the first and had begun by loudly lamenting her marriage, before reminding her of all the fun they used to do when they were young.

Faustus had moved the conversation away from that and politely flattered Aldrich for his growing factions in the Northern churches, given that there had once been a time when Aldrich, Faustus and Edward had all bid to become the High Priest for Greendale's flock.

By the time the two men had wandered down their own memory lane of opium dens and absinthe-laced nights, further guests had arrived, providing Zelda with a much-needed exit from their conversations as she fluttered around the room, making necessary introductions of the guests to each other.  

So far, half of the dozen had arrived and were politely nibbling on hors d' oeuvres as they discussed their covens, flaunting what wealth and pride they had to offer while simultaneously trying to sound modest––a feat few could accomplish.

As she opened the door, Zelda was prepared to greet one of the few guests remaining and came to a stop upon realising which guest as pointedly decided to show up.

"Lilith," she said tightly, pretending that she hadn't spent half of the previous night thinking of her. And half of the day hoping the woman would remain absent.

Lilith smirked and took a moment to slowly run her eyes down Zelda's attire before dragging them up to look at her. "Don't you look good enough to eat."

Zelda rolled her eyes, hating the reaction that spilled across her cheeks as she opened the door wider and allowed the woman to enter. Lilith's eyes tracked over the room, glancing at the individuals before she turned back to Zelda. "What a lovely party."

"I didn't think you would make it."

"And miss this?" Lilith laughed. "No, I expect tonight will be quite interesting."

Zelda ignored the connotation, gesturing to the servers in the room. "Well, there's wine and food. We'll be dining soon, once the last guests arrive."

"Of course," Lilith stepped into the parlour, making her way into the centre of the room and introducing herself to the other covens' central figures, likely more familiar with them than they realised.

Her perfume lingered, however, and Zelda felt a familiar warmth pool low in her belly. An incessant thought rose before she could prevent it and it was all she could do to not snatch at the woman's wrist and drag her back to the doorway.

Shutting the front door, Zelda drew in a breath and walked back over to where Faustus was sitting, perching herself on the arm of his chair. His hand came up to settle against her as he eagerly recounted a favoured story of a wild bear that made its way into the Academy.  

Since this morning, Faustus had been in a good mood, likely believing the magicked dream to be a memory. He'd flattered her, asked her opinion and had even thanked her for the opportunity of tonight. It was almost as if Ambrose's almost-execution and the attempted Caligari spell hadn't been enacted.

But they had, and as much as she was pleased to have manipulated him, Zelda knew it wouldn't last. Sooner or later, their respective knives would return to each other's throats.

As Faustus came to the end of his story, he set his hand on her lower back but made no effort to invite her into the conversation. Not that she cared, she was hardly sure of what he was talking about as her eyes tracked Lilith on the other side of the room, watching her hand touch over Saul's forearm before throwing her head back in laughter.

Zelda flicked her eyes away, clenching her jaw. She should have known that Lilith would use this as her personal buffet, seducing one prominent figure or another.

"Zelda," Faustus said, poking at her back to grab her attention.

She turned and faced him, a smile on her face. "Yes?"

"The door," he said.

Zelda pushed off the armchair, walking over to the foyer. She opened the door as the last of the expected guests arrived, apologising for getting lost as they'd ended up on the other side of the Academy and had to ask directions from a student.

"No mind at all," Zelda said. "There's wine and the hors d 'oeuvres are just over there."

"Ooh, little quiches," one of the warlocks said, rushing off to where the food had been sat. His wife sighed and turned back to Zelda, giving a thank you before following her husband.

Prudence came over to Zelda with a firm, polite smile on her face as she asked, "What is that woman doing here?" while vaguely gesturing to Lilith who was currently admiring Augustina's bracelet. Zelda clenched her fists, ready to either hex Augustina, or kick Lilith out. She wasn't sure and hadn't made up her mind either way.

"Your father invited her," she said strained. "Apparently they know each other."

"Why would my father know some excommunicated witch?" she said, enunciating 'excommunicated' so Zelda knew what word she intended instead.

Zelda watched as Lilith turned and looked at her, smiling at Zelda with an annoying smug grin, daring her to kick her out. "I have no idea," Zelda lied. "But she's a guest and therefore is staying, as much as we detest it." She turned and faced Prudence. "Just stay away from her. I have her sitting at the opposite end of the dining table, next to Saul."

Which probably wasn't a good idea in its own right. Saul was a perceptive man and would likely interrogate Lilith. Perhaps she should move her next to Augustina?

The very thought was nauseating, but she couldn't very well have her sitting directly across from her. Faustus was at the head of the table, with Prudence to his right and Zelda to his left, signifying their relationship quite purposefully.

Prudence quirked her head in interest, "I think you should check your seating plan, Lady Blackwood. Last I saw she was sitting next to you."

"That's impossible, I set the table and intentionally..." Zelda trailed off, already knowing what had occurred. Turning, she shot a look to Lilith, but the woman wasn't facing her to see it. She was too busy overtly flirting with Augustina in front of the witch's husband.

"I see," she said and smoothed down her skirt. She stepped away from Prudence, moving towards the dining room to fix the table setting before anyone knew what had ––

"Thank you, everyone," Faustus said, rising from his chair. Zelda paused and turned to face him. "I believe my wife is preparing to open the dining room up for us to begin?" he asked, giving her a purposeful look.

"I am," she agreed tightly, withholding a defeated sigh as she turned and opened up the dining room.

Prudence gave her an ironic look but remained standing where she was to allow the guests to enter the dining room one-by-one, taking their place.

Zelda watched as Lilith passed by the doorway, making a show of looking for her seat before sitting down, next to where Zelda's placement was. She fiddled with the cutlery, adjusting the serviette on the plates and then smiled to the warlock on her other side.

Zelda closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the anxiety pull in her at having to sit beside the woman. It was bad enough that her perfume was enough to turn her head. To be so close as to brush elbows would not end well.

The idea of sitting next to her and smelling that perfume was dangerous. To have her close enough to touch was worse.

Zelda fixed at her dress again, looking to where Faustus was.

She waited for him to enter beside her before taking her seat, sliding it neatly forward before reaching out to the glass of wine being poured by the serving staff.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Lilith whispering to the warlock beside her. There was a paused, and then a throaty chuckle before she sat back in her chair as if they'd whispered a private joke to one another.

Zelda averted her eyes, turning to stare at Faustus and placed her own, pleased smile on her face as he rose and made a toast. The servants then came around, setting out the first course and topping up glasses.

"Thank you, friends, for sharing this meal with me. I would like to first share my deepest gratitude to Zelda, who made all of this possible, and to Prudence who dutifully helped at her side." Zelda looked to Prudence, watching the girl flush pleased with the appreciation from her father, unlikely to realise it was just line he had to feed to the covens. "And now, let us say thanks for our meal."

Zelda bowed her head, shutting her eyes as Faustus began to speak.

"Dark Lord, we thank you for this meal," he began, and Zelda would usually have listened to the prayer, ready to add the necessary Praise Satan at the end, had she not felt the toe of a ruby-red heel slide against her calf.  

Eyes flying open, she looked first to Faustus and then to Prudence, ensuring their heads were bowed and their eyes closed in respect before she looked to Lilith. The woman had her head bowed, hands clasped together to signify prayer, but her head had tilted to meet her gaze.

Zelda moved her leg away, tucking it to the other side of the chair before returning to bow her head and clasp her hands together, shutting her eyes after giving Lilith a harsh glare.

"...you for the safe travels, may you guide them home. Praise Satan."

"Praise Satan," Zelda said, opening her eyes and looking up, adjusting herself on the seat.

Faustus sat down and raised his knife and fork, before turning to look at Samuel and striking up a conversation with him about his Coven's practices coming up to Spring. Zelda lifted her own cutlery and began the first course.

Lilith remained well behaved beside her through the first course, speaking with those nearby about their general world. She kept her shoulders turned away from Zelda, intentionally excluding her from whatever conversation she'd struck up.

It didn't bother her.

Zelda was thankful for the meal, allowing her self time to keep from fidgeting as she listened to Faustus carefully slip in parts of his doctrine –– having listened to her, it seemed, and chosen polite discourse on Satanic texts as a way to guide his philosophies.

He began with his favoured Book of Judas, coming from a central pillar of thought that he would expand on.

"It's not true," Lilith said beside her, quiet enough that only Zelda could hear.

Zelda turned and looked at her. "What isn't?"

"Everything he's saying, obviously."

"It's a direct quote from the Book of Judas."

"Yes, well, it's not true. Few things in that book are."

Zelda raised her glass of wine to her lips, holding her tongue. In this only, would she defer to Lilith's wisdom. Although the woman could just be cauldron stirring for all she knew.

"Did you know him?" she asked, setting her glass down.

"Hardly," Lilith answered with a smile. But the expression seemed private as if she remembered something painful.

Silence held between them, and Zelda wasn't sure if she should fill it with something or turn back to Faustus.

She watched as Lilith turned away first, speaking to the warlock on her right.

Zelda turned her attention to Faustus and listened as he spoke candidly about his hopes for the church, making implications about reforms he was looking to put in place.

Zelda sighed, catching sight of a few of the occupants' brows rising high into their hairline as they shared noncommital looks with one another. It wouldn't bode well for his election as Anti-Pope at this rate. In usual circumstances, she would try to mitigate the damage, but if she intervened at the wrong moment, he was likely to retaliate against her, jeopardising both their positions.

Perhaps it was best to let him dig this political grave, and fix it behind closed doors.

"And of the witches?" Lilith asked.

Faustus stopped and looked to the woman, trying to hide his frustration at being interrupted. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Just that all of that talk was about warlocks, and I don't mean to be rude, but most of the population of your covens are...witches are they not? So what are these new reforms going to do in favour of them?"

Faustus swallowed, apparently realising that those reforms would be a harder sell. Zelda grabbed her glass and took a drink, not liking where this was headed.

"Surely you have some idea?" Lilith prompted.

"If you let me speak, I would advise that my intention is..." but his words faded from Zelda's ears as she felt a hand slide over her knee.

Zelda turned and looked to the woman, but Lilith was tilting her head attentively at Faustus, drinking in whatever was being said, even though Zelda could see plainly that it was her hand slipping underneath the material of her dress.

Zelda pressed her thighs together, folding her hands on the table in an attempt to discreetly cover the action. Surely, Lilith didn't intend to do that, not at the dinner table, not when Faustus was staring right at them and arguing about the semantics of Salome's role in the bible.  

Lilith's fingers continued to climb, and as they reached over her stockings, to where the strip of skin laid. Her nail tips began to draw a circling pattern over her thigh in a deliberate attempt to arouse her.

Zelda felt the nerves electrified, casting a shiver down her spine.

The warm feeling from deep in her belly was rapidly increasing, and Zelda wasn't sure if she wanted her to stop.

She should stop her.

And yet, she didn't.

She turned her head, avoiding looking at the woman as she tried to listen to Faustus, but despite her attempts, all she could focus on was the fingertips circling on her thigh, edging closer to the lace underwear, but at an excruciatingly slow pace.

She pressed her thighs tighter, crossing her legs in an attempt to catch the hand still. But Lilith slipped across her thigh, her nails snapping over the ties to her garter belt.

Squirming in the seat, Zelda reached for her glass of wine.

"-why it would be preferred. Isn't that right Zelda?"

The hand slipped away, and Zelda smiled up over at Faustus. "Of course," she agreed.

Faustus nodded, pleased with her response and Zelda sat back in her seat, smiling as she tugged down her skirt and flicked a loose curl over her shoulder. When Faustus turned to answer a question from the other side of the table, Zelda leaned to her right, hissing low between a smile, "what in Satan's name do you think you're doing?"

"Enjoying the salad," Lilith replied, using two fingers to pop a cherry tomato into her mouth.

Zelda resigned to set her cutlery down upon the plate, to let the staff know she was done. When Faustus did the same, they cleared the dishes from the table and began topping up wine glasses again.

The conversation drifted between the occupants, Faustus leading the topics of discussion with politics and philosophy to show off his witticism. It was perhaps heavy-handed, but the ideas were researched and convincing, so Zelda smiled, making small additions when it was appropriate for her to contribute.

When the main course was served, the topic moved to the concerns the different covens were having. Rising infant mortality rates, witch hunters appearing in higher numbers, the fey migrating out of this realm.

Faustus responded concisely with how he planned to fix the problems. His grand idea of the infant mortality rates was the implication of re-instating harems into the community for high ranking warlocks—an idea he had never once shared with her.

Zelda took a sip of wine, masking her expression.

"Would that make you the wife…or the concubine?" Lilith whispered next to her ear. Zelda shivered, turning to face her.

"His wife," she hissed.

"Are you so sure?" she asked, and Zelda watched as she took a sip from the glass of water, smiling prettily at her. Zelda felt her stomach twist as she looked back to Faustus, wondering if he would downgrade her status.

He couldn't — surely. But who was she to pretend they saw each other as equals? If Rome taught her anything, it was that Faustus would stop at nothing to get his way.

"Well when he bores of you, I'm sure you'll make a lovely nursemaid for his children."

Zelda's head whipped to face hers, watching the gleaming smile grow and grow on her mouth. "I should-" she hissed.

"Oh, please do elaborate," Lilith said,

Had they been anywhere else, she would have taken pleasure in expelling her loudly from the house. But Lilith knew as well as her that causing a scene would only reflect poorly on Faustus.

After all, Lilith was an invited guest. Technically.

Zelda swallowed the threat and looked back to the meal, subtly looking around the room to see if anyone else noticed what had occurred. But as she cast her eyes around, it looked as though everyone seemed to be enjoying their meal, telling anecdotes, and discussing politics—everything she'd wanted and expected.

Good.

"Such a divine meal," Lilith said after a lull in the conversation, taking a bite of the meat. Agreement broke out across the table, from both witches and warlocks. Zelda flushed, pleased that her handwork had paid off only to turn to Faustus to see his gloating smile.

"You're quite welcome, only the best for my esteemed guests," Faustus said.

Zelda bit the inside of her cheeks, trying to not look as annoyed as she felt. After all, she had planned the meals, the drink pairings, had the house in order, sent out the invitations, but obviously, this was all a credit to her husband.

"Did you plan this?" Lilith asked of him.

"I did, with the help of my beautiful wife, of course."

"Of course," Lilith said in agreement. "And what's the sauce here, it really binds the salt of the meat against the caramel without being tooth-achingly sweet," she commented. "I'd love the recipe."

Zelda flushed at the compliment. She'd altered the receipt after morning tea with Agatha and Dorcas when they mentioned they mentioned how candy-sweet the original recipe was.

Faustus smile froze, "I don't think we could part with the recipe," he advised.

"Such a shame. Well, at least tell me how you cooked this meat, it's absolutely divine, and I've had nothing like it in my time at Greendale. It's so tender, but without that awful texture, you know?"

"Trade secret, I'm afraid."

"Of course, well at least tell me if it's pork or veal — I've always been awful at telling these kinds of things," Lilith said as she popped a piece of meat in her mouth and stared up at him with a faux-innocent expression, smirking as he grew more and more furious with her.

Zelda couldn't help but enjoy how he squirmed, the vein in jaw popping as he strained to hold his smile. But it wouldn't do well to let him be utterly humiliated.

"It's pork," Zelda answered for him. "You asked me to buy it from that butcher, Faustus."

"So I did," Faustus nodded, but she doubted they had anyone fooled.

"Pork? Truly, now I would never have guessed," Lilith said smiling at her before she took a sip of wine There was an awkward silence that followed as a few of the guests shared an amused smirk quietly to one another, but politely refrained from commenting.

Faustus adjusted himself at the table, cutting the meat with more force than required. Just as the silence was about to become unbearable, Prudence commented about the rising full-moon and inquired as to what the other covens did for their Summer Solstice.

The topic moved as the covens explained the differences in their rituals to Prudence, making commendations about how pleasant it was to see young witches take an interest in the holidays of old. Prudence grew proud with the compliments, and for a moment, Zelda wondered if it might do well to have Prudence take a leave of absence from her education and explore the world.

She'd done something similar at her age, exploring the European and Southern American covens, learning all she could from the great minds about their Dark Lord. Sabrina was still too young, had too much to learn about the world of man and mortals before Zelda could feel comfortable allowing her to flee. But Prudence wasn't nearly so naive.

Zelda turned, looking to Lilith. The woman was engaging in conversation again, listening attentively to the table's occupants. A strange ache filled her chest as she found herself wanting to inject herself.

But she didn't. Instead, Zelda turned and looked to Faustus, noticing his growing dark mood.

She leant forward to him, smiling, "Perhaps, you should do one of your famous readings after dinner," she suggested. "Engage their minds in a debate."

"Perhaps," he agreed, though sounding dismissive of the idea. Zelda sat back in her chair and picked at her food, having lost her appetite with Faustus' bad mood hanging over.

She took a sip of her wine and looked over the table.

Other than Faustus' bad mood, the dinner party was going well. The guests were entertained by conversation enough that Zelda felt no need to guide the conversation.

Saul was engaging in mortal politics and how it affected the witching community as a whole. He felt it should be paramount that their members should move into their politics (as Saul was trying to do himself), where-as Augustina argued that the witching communities should carve out lands of their own and ward it with keep-away charms to dissuade mortals from crossing their boundaries altogether.

Zelda listened to their points but overall was on Augustina's side. Mortals should be kept at a distance, to be used and discarded as required.

Lilith's arm grazed against hers, an act meant to appear unintentional as the woman continued with her meal, but Zelda was doubted that the woman so much as moved as a toe without deliberate intent.

Shifting her arms away, she pulled her hands into her lap and listened to Aldrich tell an anecdote about an intricate tangle in the Unseelie fey circle. Having known Aldrich from her youth, Zelda was long-since familiar with the story and had heard it twisted into a more adventurous tale every time it was re-told.

So much so, that apparently the love interest had become the Unseelie Queen herself. "Was it not a nymph the last time I heard this story, Aldrich?" she inquired playfully.

"Ah, Zelda, what can I say? She was as beautiful as the night sky, with stardust across her skin. I'm certain she was the Unseelie Queen because who-else could hold such beauty except yourself?"

"Who else," she murmured in return, sipping her wine as he looked into her eyes, just as he used to during their tangles in the old Bacchanalian festivals.

Zelda felt her heart flutter at the compliment. Thankfully, the influences of alcohol had caused a warm flush over her face, disguising the effects of his charm.

Aldrich was many things, but his rise to power in the Northern churches was telling of his charisma. He knew the right words to convince someone to his will and had often been the ring leader in mischief with Edward at his side.

Aldrich continued with his story, moving to his dramatic escape from the supposed Unseelie Queen's bed chambers. It should have been thrilling, but whatever he said fell to her deaf ears as Zelda began to feel Lilith's hand drawing over her knee again. It wasn't a slow, teasing climb this time, but a purposeful movement, intending to arouse her.

The whole table was enthralled with the story, even Faustus was captivated, laughing as Aldrich advised of his tumble into the lion's den (so to speak) as he ran face-to-face into the Queen's husband.

Zelda looked to Lilith, the woman was sitting back in the chair, looking only mildly interested in the story, though she was smiling where others roared with laughter. But when her fingertips reached the lace of Zelda's underwear, the smile turned sharp as she deliberately stroked over the seam going across her sex.

Perhaps it was the wine or the general feeling of insistent arousal Zelda had been feeling since their last tryst, whatever it was, she didn't stop Lilith. She allowed the woman's touch to slide over the lace in a slow, deliberate movement, before slipping underneath the edges of the silk.

"…smell of lilac drifting across the arena…" Aldrich's voice continued, holding his audience in rapt attention as Zelda's focus remained on the finger sliding between her folds. Her eyes drew across the room, looking to see if anyone noticed. And yet a part of her didn't care enough if they did. "…high above my head to taunt the king, and wouldn't you know it…"

Zelda pressed two fingers over her mouth, attempting to hold a curiosity to the story as she bit back the growing moans. She could see Lilith's smile, growing wicked as she began circling her clit, though her eyes never drifted away from the storytelling.

"…caught in the net, the beast drawing closer, I had nothing but my wits…"

Zelda rolled her shoulders, trying to resist the urge to squirm closer to the touch.

She knew that she should move the hand away. Knew that if anyone caught them, the consequences could be catastrophic.

"…she cried forth, spring before the beast and me!" Aldrich said, just as Lilith slid two fingers inside of her.

Zelda gasped (as did a few of the other guests in reaction to the story), and Lilith turned to look at her from the corner of her vision, giving Zelda a small but patronising shake of her head. "Quiet, you'll disturb the story."

"You," Zelda began, and then stopped as the woman pushed deeper inside of her, ensuring the edge of her thumb slid over her clit. Zelda could hear the sound of her own heartbeat, increasing both with anxiety and arousal in the situation.

She should stop her.

She could feel her lungs tightening as she held onto her breath, trying to exhale without letting the sounds slip.

"...I brought it to her knees, bowing before her..."

"If your husband knew how soaked you were for me," Lilith said, her voice so quiet Zelda nearly didn't hear her. And then, her fingers were sliding out of her.

Holding back a hiss, Zelda reached down, snatching at the wrist to keep her in place––before realising what she was doing.

Satan in Hell, she was acting like a wanton hussy.

Zelda pushed her away, forcefully out from her dress and off from her body.

Lilith complied and drew her hands into her lap, her focus returning to the story as if nothing had happened.

Zelda reached for her glass of water, taking a bigger sip than necessary and listened as Aldrich finished the story with his return to the mortal world, as she tried to ignore how wet her thighs felt.

All she wanted was a cigarette on her lips. It'd been over two hours since she had one, but the nicotine had faded and her body sung for it as it sang for Lilith to be fucking her against a surface.

She really needed that fucking cigarette.  

With the story adjured and a new anecdote beginning, Zelda turned to Faustus and politely excused herself to sneak away for a cigarette break.

Exiting the dining room quietly, barely noticed as the occupants sunk in the wine and food, Zelda drifted to the parlour, picking up her cigarette holder, lighter and cigarettes before making her way outside.

She lit the cigarette and inhaled the nicotine deep into lungs as she leant against the stone wall. It rushed through her bloodstream, and for just a moment, felt as if the building frustration was easing. As she exhaled, the smoke curling out into the night sky, the unresolved tension returned along with the focus of her slick underwear, sitting awkwardly to one-side.

Fuck her. Zelda thought, taking another deep inhale. Fuck her and her fucking contract.

A muffled roar of laughter came from inside, and Zelda closed her eyes, willing the party to end. She didn't know how she could return to that room, next to that woman. Every minute next to her felt like slow, drawn foreplay between them. She'd very nearly let the woman bring her to climax at the dinner table, sitting next to some of the most prominent figures in the North Americas.

No, she needed to make her leave. Discreetly. Because if they found themselves alone together, for even a moment, she––

"There you are."

Damn her.

Zelda exhaled the smoke from her lungs, flicking the ash onto the ground as she turned and looked at the Mother of Demons. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Well, you left so abruptly I thought something must have spoiled your appetite."

Zelda dropped the cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with her heel. "I'm perfectly fine," she assured.

"Of course," Lilith said, moving to stand beside her and look up at the night sky as if studying the stars. Maybe she was. Maybe she was plotting her next move.

The question was, would she stop her?

A quiet held between them, with Lilith looking at the heavens and Zelda averting her eyes down to the ground, trying to slow her racing heart as the proximity between them seemed to be shrinking. "Did you know that Hell doesn't have stars in its skies?" Lilith asked. "Not in any of its far-reaching pockets."

"I did not," Zelda answered. Though in truth, she'd never considered the idea of Hell having its own skies. It must, she supposed. It was a realm of its own, with an atmosphere of its own.

"Every time I return, I can see the constellations dying," Lilith sighed. "The mortals say that even our sun will burn up in the end, taking this world with it."

"We'll long have turned to ash when that happens."

"Do you fear that?"

"Being turned to ash?" Zelda asked. "No, all things die. Even stars."

"Being irrelevant," Lilith clarified. "That all of this will lead to nothing?"

Zelda opened her mouth to say that all things would lead to Hell, to the Dark Lord's favour. Until she remembered who she was speaking with. "I won't be irrelevant," she decided on instead. "I'm here, I exist, even if everything turns to ash, I still existed. Nothing in the universe can change that. Not even the Dark Lord."

Lilith looked at her then, in a way that Zelda hadn't seen before. As if she was just now noticing her for the first time.

"Such blasphemy," Lilith said.

"Am I wrong?"

Lilith didn't respond, her lips pressed shut as she, too, leant against the wall beside her. Their shoulders almost brushing but not entirely in the fresh evening air. Close enough that Zelda could feel the warmth radiating from her.

Lilith turned until her shoulder was touching the wall and her body pressing to Zelda's side. Her hand reached up and gently cupped Zelda's face as she leant forward.

Zelda had every reason to pull away and tell her 'no'. But she didn't. Lilith's face was soft, showing an earnest curiosity, which was entirely unlike anything Zelda had seen before. It also yearned for something.

And by her damnation, she wanted to be the fulfilment of that yearning.

As she leant forward, Zelda couldn't help but think that this was how Lilith was meant to be viewed: under the stars, in the moonlight, in private worship.

And as their lips, fingers curling against her cheek, the whole world became silent.

It was a kiss, unlike all their others: tender and slow––as if it was their very first. Zelda drew her lips over hers until she could feel the magic buzzing between them, crackling against each other. One hand slid to the back of her neck as another was slipping around her waist, pulling her close.

Zelda parted her mouth, feeling an eager sound escape.

It had been so long since she'd been kissed with such intensity––as if nothing else mattered; the rest of the world was a vast void, and they were the only beings in the entire universe.

There was only Lilith. Lilith and her mouth, her warm hands and her body pressed against hers. She wanted nothing else.

Zelda tugged up the woman's dress before switching their positions, pressing Lilith against the wall as she drew her hands up the thighs, to her hips and...noticed the lack of underwear.

"Presumptuous," Zelda whispered as she drew her fingers over the bare hips.

"And yet, here we are," Lilith said before kissing her again.

Zelda held her firmly against the wall before pressing her knee between the woman's thighs. The woman submitted but rolled her hips deliberately so Zelda could feel the arousal dragging over her stockings.

Zelda moaned against the woman's mouth as she slipped her fingers over the slickened sex, savouring the sensation of bringing the most prominent woman in witch history to such a state.

Then, satisfied with how she felt, Zelda slid insider of her.

Lilith's mouth drew away from hers, drawing down to bury against her throat as she seemed to swallow back a noise. A part of Zelda was thankful for the hushed sex against the wall, and yet all she wanted to hear was the woman's ecstasy, loud and unbridled in her ear.

She bit at Lilith's neck to elicit a response and felt a hand tug in her hair, curling tighter as her thrusts increased. She kissed at the same spot and then drew her tongue over it before biting down. The hand in hair tightened and Zelda could feel a low hum verberating from the woman's throat, as a keen, "Zelda," was murmured out.

Satan in Hell, Zelda thought as her heartbeat quickened at the sound.

She slammed the woman against the stonewall, thrusting harder as she rolled her fingertips purposeful insider of her. She kissed against the neck, dragging her teeth over the tender marks to see if Lilith would do it again.

She didn't. Her hand only curled tighter in her hair as the other seemed to fist at the material of her dress, teeth clamming shut to prevent another sound whispering out.

And then Lilith's head was turning until Zelda's mouth returned to her, and all thoughts escaped of doing anything but kissing and fucking the woman. Her thoughts ceased, and the moment seemed to hold between them, filled with only the noise of passionate sex in a secluded corner of the shadows.

Anyone could discover them, Zelda realised, but couldn't find enough focus to care. Right now, the entire dinner party could come across them, and she wouldn't stop until Lilith told her to.

Zelda felt the woman clench around her fingers, her body tensing with anticipation.

The intrinsic magic thundered and then expelled into the air as Lilith came around her fingers, her body spasming, but there was still an energy to it. As if she was holding back from completely letting go.

Zelda kissed her again until the woman's body slowed and slackened against her. Only then did she draw her hands away, her forehead dropping against the woman's shoulder as she felt her heart thud loudly in her chest.

Lilith's hands came to settle loosely over her should and around her waist as the woman's face remained buried in her neck.

A strange sense of longing filling her, and Zelda realised that she didn't want to return inside.

"Well," Lilith said. "Perhaps we should take this––"

The sound of the door shutting against its frame was like an electric shot. Zelda jumped back as both of them smoothed over their clothes, a glamour charm slipping around them to disguise the ruined make-up and dresses as Zelda reached for lighter and cigarette case just as Prudence walked around the corner.

Lighting a new cigarette, she placed it to her lips and raised her eyebrow at the girl. "Yes?" she asked.

"You've been gone a while. Just making sure nothing happened?"

Zelda exhaled the smoke. Gesturing vaguely to the area, "Quite alive," she smiled. "I'll return in a moment."

Prudence nodded before eyeing Lilith oddly. A strange look passed over her face before she left and Zelda had a horrible, sinking feeling that Prudence was perceptive enough to get at least an idea of what may have occurred.

She leant back against the wall, breathing in the cigarette. "We need to talk about this contract. Tomorrow," Zelda said.

"As you wish," Lilith nodded. Though her voice sounded far away as if she was deep in thought.

Drawing in the cigarette, Zelda looked up at the stars, trying to see if she could divine anything from them, but whatever secrets the stars held, they offered nothing in return.

"Let's fix ourself up and head inside," Zelda said, dropping the cigarette to the ground and squashing it. "You can make your leave after you've tried the dessert."

#lilith #zelda spellman #zelith #madam spellman #caos fanfic #morgan writes #morgans fics

[nerdygaymormon]

Homophobias warning: I had a friend who was confused when I told her that a lot of gay people usually felt the spirit telling them they can date or like the same gender. She just said that it was contradictory to the church and was probably just Satan. I didnt really know what to say so I just left it at that. Do you or anyone have any suggestion on how to respond to this type of comment?

To understand where she’s coming from, the Church teaches that members can receive revelation, but with these 3 caveats:

You have to be living worthily

Inspiration is restricted to your personal life & family matters, or to your calling in Church, or to confirm Church teachings & leaders.

No one will receive inspiration that contradicts Church teachings & policies

If someone is getting answers that conflict with the Church, then they must be unworthy. That unworthiness means either they’re being inspired by the Devil or they’re just confusing their own feelings to want to sin.

————————————————————— 

I disagree with this teaching that there’s no variance. This implies that the Church and its leaders are never wrong. And yet we have a recent example.

In November 2015 a new policy was inserted into the handbook of instructions used by local leaders. This policy came to be known as the Policy of Exclusion (POX) because it required same-sex couples to be disciplined and cut off their children from the Church.

It was interesting to see many members say that this didn’t feel right to them. Then Elder Christofferson came forward to say that it is a new policy approved by the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. Most members immediately fell in line.

Except it wasn’t accepted by most LGBTQ+ members, nor many of their family & friends. They felt certain this was wrong.

After President Monson died, President Nelson became head of the Church and declared the POX to be a revelation.  

In less than 5 years, this policy/revelation was completely reversed.

Could it be that those who voiced their opposition to the policy had been correct? I don’t think the Church leaders will ever officially say they were wrong and the dissenters to this policy were correct. However, that’s how it looks to me.

————————————————————— 

And here’s the thing, the Church has been wrong on LGBTQ+ topics time and time again.

When I was growing up, the Church was teaching that people experienced gay feelings because they were molested or they didn’t have enough faith or even because of masturbation. A person could be excommunicated for saying they are gay. 

Science proved that homosexuality is part of a person’s biology. It has nothing to do with masturbation, being molested and a person can’t change their sexual orientation by desire or faith. Now the Church says it has no position on the cause of same-sex attraction, and it’s okay for people to use the labels lesbian, bi or gay to identify themselves.

________   

This reminds me of African-Americans who had a very strong belief & confirmation that the Church’s racist policies were wrong. They should not be excluded from holding the priesthood and getting temple blessings.

The Church now has an essay that says it was wrong. Church leaders of the past were blinded by the racism of the time.

—————————————————————

The General Authorities teach general principles in General Conference, but when it comes to my individual life, not always do general principles work. God can clarify those teachings for me, or even modify them or give me other answers. Even if the Church isn’t ready for the answer, God can give me specific answers because they directly impact my life.

In answering a question about divorce in Matthew 19, Jesus declared the general doctrine is that a man get a wife and be one, never to be torn apart.

But then Jesus gave an exception. a man can divorce his wife if she commits adultery.

Then Jesus gave another exception, said it was going to be hard for people to accept this answer, but there are certain men who are exempt from having to marry a woman. 

The general principle and doctrine applies to most people. But when it comes to application, there are some adjustments that had to be made.

________   

I have had a very powerful experience that God loves me and my orientation. In the temple I’ve received revelation that it’s okay for me to seek a relationship with a man.

Your friend would say I’m inspired by the Devil or I’m just wanting to sin.

However, these experiences, thoughts and inspiration have all been accompanied by feelings of the Spirit.  

“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:23.)

A feeling of peace & calm is the most common ways the Spirit confirms things. Sometimes it just seems that things become very clear in my mind. Other times it’s a strong feeling of love.

Only later when wondering if I’m sure about this, am I just fooling myself into getting an answer I was hoping for, that’s when I will I feel unsure. This is a spiritual sign that I’m wrong about these doubts

When I again receive the same inspiration, there is no doubt at those times, and the feelings of the Spirit are clear.

————————————————————— 

Derek Knox on the Beyond the Block podcast had a useful analogy about revelation. (episode 43):

So you’’ve got sort of three approaches to a window.

You’ve got the fundamentalist. You’ve got the skepticist, or the skeptic. And then the realist. Okay. And all, there are three approaches to how revelation works.

Now, fundamentalists think of it very naively. They think of it, of revelation as looking out a window and the window is perfectly clear and as long as it’s sunny and as long as you’re looking out the window, you can see exactly the way things are. And that’s how our prophets and apostles work. They can just look out and seek clearly into the mind of God. Whatever’s there is there, there’s no filter. There’s no processing. It’s a beautiful, clear, clean window that they can look out. That’s the sort of naive approach.

Then the skeptic’s approach is that the window is actually a mirror and all you see is a reflection of yourself, your own biases, your own prejudices. There’s no actual revelation. Skeptics don’t think that revelation is real. They think it’s all just a repackaging of your own ideas in your own self, and, and that’s what it is. There’s no window. There&#39;s no truth out there. There’s just a mirror.

And then the third approach is the realist approach to say, yes, there’s a window. And there is something real on the other side, revelation, is real. But that window can be a little bit warped. It can be a little bit dirty, it can be a little bit obscure in some places. And you can see your reflection in the window. Not only can you see through the window. But you can also see your reflection in the window and you have to be careful to separate those and keep them apart.

I think that is the most realistic approach to revelation in our church. If you look at every revelation in the history of our scriptures, it’s going to be light from God filtered through a human with limitations and liabilities and a particular language at a particular time and place, and you’re going to get some of their human fingerprints, even if it’s just the style of the vocabulary.

Derek goes on to explain this is why we need a variety of people with different experiences looking out the window  together. We each will have our biases and weaknesses, but the parts we can all view is the part that’s most likely the actual view through the window free from our self reflection.