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#just excommunicate the whole lot

visenyaism · 10 months

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Please share with us the list of Saints of the Seven 🙏 who’s getting candles, feast days, and other catholic-coded kitsch 🕯️I really wish to know. I recall Naerys being mentioned before and now Criston Cole but who else ?

i am uniquely unqualified to do this being 4 generations removed from catholicism through excommunication myself however here is a vibes-based list for who in asoiaf i think the faith of the seven would canonize like immediately:

- lots of people from the initial warring when the andals first arrived. that’s historically low hanging fruit though let’s get specific.

- the first hightower to accept the faith of the seven (his name was damon which like. lol)

- Alyssa Arryn the weeping, who watched her whole family die without shedding a tear so she has to cry for all eternity and of whom the valemen build statues of to this day.

- The Uller who shot Rhaenys Targaryen down (only acknowledged in Northwestern Dorne)

- like multiple dozens of people that maegor the cruel put to death on his mission to create as many martyrs as humanly possible eradicate the faith. every southern town has a local martyr at this point

- probably a manderly at some point. token northern representation.

- Criston Cole for reasons previously aforementioned

- If it was any of the dance Targaryens it would be Helaena (recognized locally in king’s landing)

- The Shepherd and/or one of the nameless masses that died to kill the dragons in the name of the gods and to protect their city.

- the nameless salt wife who killed dalton greyjoy before jumping into the sea. i’m just feeling this one.

- Baelor the Blessed. cant win them all

- Naerys Targaryen. she all but had a giant catholic dinner plate halo behind her head the entire time and spent her whole life getting martyred.

- they’ll be cooking up something with catelyn stark and sanctified motherhood in future generations i bet

#who did i miss. vote now on your phones #asoiaf

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portaltothevoid · 8 months

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you're losing me part iv -- copia x reader, ex!terzo x reader

Summary: Your cheating ex is the leader of the Satanic church and you caused a scene in front of the whole congregation. You've been summoned to meet with him, alone, to be served your punishment. Turns out, you're destined for more than you could ever imagine...

A/N: buckle up buttercups, you're in for a doozy. please read the warnings. also this is my first time writing real smut please be nice to me. this little idea i had has grown into something i never thought it would and it is my overflowing cup of reason to live juice. and yes i switched gifs around because i'm new here and found the perfect one for part iii soooo did a little switcheroo. ps there’s a lot of lyrical easter eggs for my fellow swifties

songs: coney island by tswizzle, tempt me by stone nobles (please check out this band, i beg of you. trust me.)

word count: 8.4k (😬😬😬)

warnings: (this chapter deals with some dark stuff) dubcon, manipulation, talk of self-sabotage, flashbacks, oral (f!receving), fingering, p in v, rough sex, choking, fingers in mouth, allusion to panty-sniffing kink (kinda), horror elements, allusion to degradation (the bad kind), female reader, terzo heavy, google translate latin, some google translate italian (i took it in high school but that was forever ago, so i tried?)

“A summons?” you gasped jumping up from the couch. “A summons?! Oh, great. Perfect. Wait, what exactly is a summons?”

“It’s a meeting with Papa… alone…” Copia said, his voice balancing on the edge of feigned calmness and panic.

“Why the fuck does he need to see me alone? He can’t excommunicate me without witnesses, right? …Right?!” Your voice was rising in pitch as you started to pace around the living room.

“I-I don’t know, tesoro. No matter what happens, eh, I don’t think he’ll let you go that… easily.”

“Okay, okay, we just have to remain calm and- and think about this rationally. I-it could just be the slap on the wrist for the outburst, right?”

“Maybe…”

“Then again, if I’m alone in his office it’ll probably be a slap across my ass,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes. Copia couldn’t even respond, he just made a growling sound from deep inside his chest. You held your hands up defensively. “I’m just saying.”

“If so much as lays one finger on you–”

“He won’t,” you interrupted. “What happened after I left mass?”

“I got up to run after you and the fucker, very condescendingly, reminded me…” he trailed off as a realization smacked him across the face. “He reminded me I was to lead the closing prayer, which he assigned to me at the last minute. Cazzo! Quel figlio di puttana (Fuck! That son of a bitch…) planned this. He knows what he’s fucking doing,” he fumed. “That’s why he couldn’t wipe that fucking smirk off his face.”

“Oh fucking hell, we are so fucked,” you groaned, sitting back down on the couch with your head in your hands.

“Eh, maybe not if we’re already figuring out his plan?”

“True... Okay, so… we just have to think like Terzo.” A repulsed shiver went down your spine at that thought alone. “His comment to me was planned. He wanted to get under my skin. Point for him. I spat wine in his face and told him to fuck off in front of literally everyone. Point for me. But he was testing me to see my reaction or maybe it was just to test your reaction, or both? Either way, it didn’t matter because he made it so your duties came first no matter what I did… Point for him. He’s in the lead and now I’m gonna have to be in his office tomorrow. Great. Just fucking great.”

“So he’s going after me now too…” Copia sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.

“N-no. Not just you.” Your voice faltered as you felt your insides do a somersault. A realization of your own drained every emotion from your face. “He’s going after us. He’s going– He’s gonna try and break us apart.” Copia looked up at you, dumbfounded. Of course. Of course that’s exactly what Terzo was doing.

“If he can’t have you, no one can…”

“Do you remember what a big fucking deal it was to get me on the books for living with him?” Copia nodded, not liking where this was going. “I… I never officially moved out… I just… came here. He’s… he’s going to reassign my living quarters tomorrow. That's what this has to be about.”

“Oh Satana mio…(Oh my Satan)”

“Call Sister Imperator. Right now. She can rush the paperwork, can't she?”

“Amore, even if we could, he’d still have to sign off on it in the morning,” he sighed.

“I can’t just sit here and wait for morning. Even if that’s not what the summons is going to be about, at least let’s cover our asses. Now… Call. Her.”

He ignored the warmth that traveled up his body from you being stern and demanding with him and started the call to their superior. She answered right away and you were sitting on the edge of the couch. “H-hi, uh, hello, Seestor. I’m sorry it’s so la– Sì. She received the summons… Eh, sì, that’s why I’m calling you… No… Okie dokie, Seestor.” He hung up the phone after that.

“Did you really just ‘okie dokie’ Sister Imperator?”

Copia just shrugged. “She’s expecting us in her office.”

“Hmph!” you hummed triumphantly as you got up. “Told ya we needed to call her.”

He rolled his eyes at your gloating. “Andiamo, anidamo (let’s go, let’s go),” he said as he placed a hand on the small of your back, letting you lead the way out of the apartment.

Copia knocked swiftly on Imperator’s door. Seconds later it was opened. “Come in. Quickly!” she hissed. The Sister took her seat at her desk, while you and Copia sat in the chairs in front of her. She stared at you, her lips pursed. “That was some stunt you pulled at mass today, Sister.”

“I-I… he… I’m–” you stuttered and then abruptly shut up when she held her hand up.

“I knew of the nature of your relationship with Papa and I know that it is no longer. I know of the infidelity… on both your parts. Save the apologies. I heard what he said to you. When I was your age… I would have acted similarly… I did not bring you both here because of that incident. Clearly Papa Emeritus III is out of control and it’s only going to get worse.” She spoke matter-of-factly. There was no animosity in her voice towards you, this was strictly business.

“I think he’s going to try to separate Copia and I,” you blurted out quickly. You winced at the frantic tone of your voice.

“Yes I know. I have your room transfer papers ready. Luckily, it’s before midnight, so tomorrow he won’t have a say in where you end up since this is already being put in motion. Sign here and here,” she pointed with her pen as she spoke and handed a clipboard over to Copia who then passed it to you.

“Do you… do you know what else is going to happen tomorrow? At the summoning?” you questioned timidly.

“No. I only caught wind about the transfer. But, Sister, you must be prepared. We are thwarting his plans. Whatever happens tomorrow, you cannot retaliate via a spectacle. I am fully on your side here, but we need to bide our time.”

“So… What? I’m just supposed to take the public humiliation and whatever else he’s gonna throw in my face?”

“I think what Seestor is trying to say, cara, is that behind closed doors you can say anything you want to him, but whatever you say to him, we don’t know if he will retaliate right then or wait to strike,” Copia said calmly.

Sister Imperator gave a short nod in agreement. “Your reactions have to be calculated. You cannot let your emotions get the best of you in the moment. You’ve done so well holding yourself together, I know you are capable of this.”

You felt the weight of everything come crashing down on you, overwhelming you. All you could do was chew on the inside of your cheek.

“I know you know this more than anyone, Sister,” Imperator continued, “Terzo is out of control and out of line. This is becoming nothing but a game to him. As Papa, he feels no one has the power to tell him no. At the rate he is going, he will only bring ruin to this Ministry. And I, for one, will do everything in my power to keep that from happening. I know Cardinal Copia feels the same.”

He nodded. “Sì, Seestor. I do.”

“I will do whatever it takes, Sister.”

“Do you know why your role is so vital to this?” Sister Imperator questioned. You shook your head. “You were the only one that could tame Terzo. For a while, I had thought we found our solution to our problems with him. But he is a wild animal. No amount of domestication will tame that beast. You also possess magical and ritual talents well beyond your years. You are a very valuable asset to the church as a whole. If all goes according to plan, your efforts will be regarded in the highest favor from the Dark Lord himself, I’m sure.”

You were too stunned by her praise to notice that Copia shifted uncomfortably. Sister Imperator shot a glare at him to stop before you looked up from your hands. “I– Um, thank you, Sister.”

She gave you a stiff nod as she began to organize the papers on her desk. “Oh, and, Sister? Should anything happen to you, be it comments or gestures, report it to myself or Cardinal Copia. Immediately. If I am preoccupied, tell someone or myself that you have a very important document for me to review. Understood?”

“Yes, Sister,” you nodded.

“Very well then. I will have this processed and on Papa’s desk by sun rise.”

Copia got up and bowed to Sister Imperator. He held out his hand for you to take your leave. Just as you both were a step away from the door, you turned back to her desk. “Sister Imperator?” you asked innocently.

“Hmm?” she murmured without looking up at you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.

She finally looked up at you, her eyes darting between you and Copia. An uncharacteristically warm smile spread across her face. “No need to thank me yet.” Her demeanor turned back to its usual stoicness. “Now go get some rest. The both of you. You’ll need it.”

~~~~~

Even though you somehow managed to fall asleep, you felt like as soon as you drifted off, you heard the incessant beeping of Copia’s alarm. You rolled to face the ceiling and groaned, but didn’t allow yourself any more time in bed. You wanted this over with. You had no idea what was about to happen. Delaying it wasn’t going to solve any problems. Reluctantly, you got up and showered quickly, putting on your makeup afterwards. While Copia got ready for the day, you searched your side of the closet, trying to decide the best approach for this summons.

Earlier last week, while Terzo was tied up in meetings, you and one of your favorite Ghouls went back to the place you once called home and packed up the rest of your things. When you brought in the last box, and the Ghoul was to return to his post, he gave you his signature straight-lined, toothy smile, something he rarely did around humans. He stood at your side and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, nuzzling his head into you. The affection was so endearing you didn’t mind his mask slightly clunking against your head.

“Thank you for always being there for me, Swiss,” you told him. He had caught you crying on more than one occasion, always wiping your tears away or badly misbehaving around Papa when he realized that’s who was the reason for your sadness. “Don’t forget about me, okay?” you laughed delicately. The Ghoul put both their hands over their heart and shook their head. How could they ever forget the one person who treated them like an equal and not as just a devout servant or like some kind of pet?

His shoulders slumped when it was time for him to go. You put your hand on the side of his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze and said, “Be on your worst behavior for Papa. Be the best little shit I know you can be for me, alright?” He perked up and nodded excitedly, happily accepting this task from you. “There we go, that’s my favorite Ghoul,” you smiled warmly and scratched under his chin as his tail swished. He flashed you one more of his signature smiles before turning heel and heading back.

You sighed. “I miss the Ghouls,” you grumbled as you continued to flip through all the clothes you had hanging. You could wear something plain, albeit respectful, just what all the Sisters wore day-to-day. Maybe something more formal… But then you found it. It was a dress you saved for special occasions and events and luckily for you, you had yet to wear this one. A devilish smile went across your face.��

Looking in the mirror, smoothing out any stray wrinkles, you nodded to yourself. You looked hotter than hell. You had your wimple on, but pulled some hair out to have it frame your face. You fluffed your bangs, then applied your red lipstick. Yeah, this’ll do.

You walked out of your room, causing Copia to look up from his phone. He almost choked on his coffee at the sight of you.

The dress was a black satin that hugged your body. Leaving very little to the imagination, it had a plunging neckline and an open back. Its asymmetrical hem fell just above your left ankle, while the right side hit the top of your thigh, showing off your whole leg when you walked. On that leg, you had a garter with a single Grucifix dangling from it, made of black diamonds. It had been a gift from Terzo, you only hoped it added insult to injury. For shoes you wore simple, black, strappy stilettos.

“Y-you’re wearing that for h-him?” he stuttered in shock.

You grinned a Cheshire cat smile as you walked over to him. Tilting his head to the side you were on, you leaned down and kissed him. Your hand trailing down his chest, a finger dragging across where his pants started under his cassock. “Oh, caro, this dress isn’t for him. I’m dressing for revenge.” You dragged the hand holding his head across his jawline as you pulled away. “You got a little…” you said quietly as you used your thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth. He could only stare at you as you walked towards the door. His eyes wide and filled with lust. “Meet me back here for lunch,” you said, your tone commanding. You looked over your shoulder with a delightfully sinful grin to see Copia nodding fervently.

Just before you stepped out to leave, he called out, “Be careful, amore. Per favore.”

“Always am,” you responded as you shut the door. Taking one long, deep breath, you began your trek to the summons.

Dark Lord, give me the strength to mask my emotions, to not let them overpower my actions. Please, give me your strength and guidance to get through this. Nema, you thought to yourself, eyes closed and focused as you stood outside his office and set your intention. You elegantly knocked on the door.

“Entra.”

Let the battle begin.

He sat with his elbows on his desk, chin perched in his folded hands. You felt him eyeing you as you walked over to the chair across from him, sizing you up. His face dropped slightly, taken aback by your appearance. His lust for you consuming him.

“You did this all for me, sorella? Or would you still prefer I call you tesoro mio?” His voice was sultry, dripping with sweet honey. It made you sick.

“Sorella is fine, Papa. You summoned me, I only thought it best to wear something more formal,” you smiled politely.

“I always did like the way you think…” he mused under his breath, but still loud enough for you to hear. You ignored the comment. “Do you know why I summoned you, tesorino?”

Your expression held firm as you kept your air of professionalism intact. “I can only assume it has to do with the incident from mass.”

“Actually, I wanted to discuss your living arrangements. But you see, a very curious thing happened. There were already papers on my desk dealing with just that. Isn't it funny how quickly things can get done when you know the right people, hmm?”

“I see it as a blessing. The Dark Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“That He does, that He does…” his smile showed he was impressed by your response and ability to dodge the question, but his tone suggested he knew the move was calculated. “Well, with that out of the way now, I suppose we have time to talk.” He looked at you through his lashes. He softened, his voice quieter. Was this his way of waving the white flag? You weren’t talking to Papa now, you had Terzo in front of you. The real Terzo. However, you weren’t about to drop your guard so easily.

“What is there to talk about, Papa?”

He shook his head, his expression forlorn. “This isn’t business anymore.” When he looked up at you, he dropped any and every mask he was wearing. Even behind his papal paints, you could see how broken and defeated he actually was. “You left… and then I returned home one day and… every trace of you was gone. Poof. As if you were never there. As if we never happened…” he took a deep breath, it was unsteady. He bit his lip in an effort to control his emotions. You stared numbly at him. “Do you remember the first night I stayed with you? When you were sick?” he whispered.

Of course you remembered. How could you forget? You had a nasty cold. You texted him early that day, telling him you were sick and you’d have to reschedule dinner. He told you to rest and get better and that he would see you soon. You didn’t think ‘soon’ meant him showing up at your door later that evening with two quart containers of minestrone soup (that he made himself from his nonna’s recipe (and with Primo’s guidance)) and a bouquet of flowers.

“What are we watching, tesoro?” he asked as he settled in behind you, holding you, arm wrapped around your waist. You felt guilty having him there.

“You really don’t have to stay. I mean I don't want to get you sick and… Really, I’m fine on my own, especially now that I have soup!”

“Amore. Just because you do well on your own doesn’t mean you have to be on your own, hm? I'm here because I want to be, because la mia ragazza preferita (my favorite girl) is sick. If we fall asleep watching tv, then we sleep! There’s no use arguing with me, you know,” he said as he pulled you closer to him and pressed gentle kisses on your neck. “I'm staying– right– here.” His voice was muffled from barely taking his mouth away from your neck as he punctuated each word with a kiss. The affection made you bubble with laughter.

“I'm glad you’re here,” you said shyly. It was at that moment you knew you had a difficult conversation ahead of you. One that could make or break your relationship with Terzo, but you were falling for him. Hard. Nothing could stop your momentum. He had a reputation and if he loved you like he said he did, he’d commit to you. Wouldn’t he?

He let out a content sigh that pulled you out of your thoughts. He nuzzled into your shoulder. “Sono tua. Tutta tua.” He paused before adding, “Solo tua.” You froze. Did he read your mind? Did he feel the same as you? (I am yours. All yours. Only yours.)

“Solo mia? Davvero?” (Only mine? Really?)

“Sì. Sì,” he murmured affectionately as he placed a kiss on your temple. “There's no one else I want to share my time with. You’re all I think about, all I dream about, amore. You ground me. Make me feel like… I'm not… I’m not as— You make me feel like I'm worth loving. I want… us… I want to be esclusivi with you.” A sudden bashfulness came over him that you had never seen before. He was also so cool and collected, but you could tell just from the sound of his voice and the way he was fidgeting, tapping his fingers on your arm as he spoke that he was nervous.

You rolled over and cupped his face, searching his eyes with nothing but adoration. “Promise me then. Promise me, I’ll be the only one. Promise me, I’ll be your only one.”

“Te lo prometto. I promise you. You have my word, amata.”

“If you get sick this is on you. It’s so not my fault,” you jested as you poked his chest.

His eyes lit up. “Will you take care of me if I do?”

You swept his bangs away from his eyes. “Certo, amore.” His eyes scanned your face like he was trying to remember every single detail of it. “Okay, then I have no regrets about doing this and accept the consequences,” you added as you grabbed his face and kissed him. He deepened the kiss, turning and pulling you on top of him. You couldn’t help but giggle. This was it. You both were in it for the long haul. There was no going back now.

You pursed your lips and rolled them together as you tore yourself away from the now painful memory. You couldn’t help but wonder, if that was the long haul then how’d you end up here so soon?

“I do… but forgive me, what does that have to do with anything?”

He was focused on his hands in front of him as he anxiously tapped his fingers together. “Could you ever look at me again the way you did that night? Could you ever love me again?”

“Do you know how many nights I spent wondering where that Terzo had gone?” you snapped as you countered his amative question with one of your own that had been frozen in ice.

“I have always been here, tesoro,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes again.

“Do you remember what you said to me that night? What you promised me? How you were all mine? Only mine?”

“Sì, ricordo (I remember)…” he muttered. The quietness of the room made your ears ring. With so many conflicting emotions running through your veins, the strongest made your blood begin to simmer.

“Then why? Why wasn’t I ever enough for you?” The questions flew out of your mouth before you could even debate betraying your strictly-business-like demeanor. Your voice tinged with desperation, devastation, and nostalgic longing. You wanted to hate Terzo. You wanted to. Most of the time now you did, but here he was in front of you. You sacrificed so much for him, for your relationship, you set all politics aside. Right now, you merely wanted answers to the thoughts that had kept you lying awake countless nights.

His breath got caught in his throat. It was as if he physically reacted to your words piercing through his heart. He stared at you, mouth slightly hung open in shock at both your question and the revelation of the consequence of his actions that it brought. Suddenly, he was on his feet, gliding over to you. Your chair had been far enough away from the desk that he was able to kneel in front of you. He placed his gloved hands on your knees.

Your jaw clenched. You saw right through what he was trying to do. Act as if it was the first time you confronted him. The first time you caught him.

The memory flooded your senses making you relive the moment when you returned to your apartment and sat at the table, waiting for the door to open. You didn’t even bother to turn on a light. Copia had walked you back after he literally ran into you as you tried to flee from one of your worst nightmares. It had taken you an hour or so to even begin to calm down. The clock neared eleven and he still wasn’t home.

He expected to find you already asleep, but he saw you waiting for him, still dressed, makeup ruined. The rage and hurt that radiated off you hit him like a brick wall as soon as he walked in and turned on the light. “Amore, what are you–”

“How was your day?” you asked plainly, staring at your hands folded in front of you.

“Lots of meetings,” he let out a tired sigh.

“Your last one ran really late. Is everything okay?”

He froze for a split second as he started to take off his gloves. He cleared his throat. “Yes, you know, just lots of red tape to sort through while the Ghost tour is being planned.” His voice became just unsteady enough to let you know he feared this was becoming an interrogation.

You nodded. “Hm, I thought that meeting was scheduled for next week.” For the first time since he returned, you looked over at him. You shrugged nonchalantly, turning away from him to look at your hands again.

“I-it got moved up suddenly. Mi dispiace, I thought someone had told you…” he muttered, making his way to the bedroom.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure Sister Thérèse just got tied up with someone… I mean something else. I haven’t seen much of her lately, or at all really, though I’m sure you have.” You turned to see him come to a complete standstill the moment your tone darkened. Slowly, he turned to you. He opened his mouth to stutter out something, but your voice was sharp as a sword. “Don’t.”

“I can explain–”

“Oh, I’m sure you can. There just has to be a reasonable explanation as to why you were balls deep inside her in a random office. And I’m sure there’s another for why the door was left ajar. Usually I would have just kept walking, but there was this very distinctive, very familiar voice. ‘È tutto. Ragazza bene. Sì, sei la mia ragazza preferita. È tutto (That’s it. Good girl. Yes, you’re my favorite girl. That’s it),’” you did your best mocking-impression of him you could muster. “I thought ‘Hmm, I’ve heard that somewhere before. There’s no way it could be..’ Well, sure enough, peaking through that crack in the door, there you were! And now… here we are.” You were so beyond furious that you appeared calm.

He stood there, still frozen, locked in place. You could see the fear in his eyes. If it weren’t the papal paints on his face you could have seen his color fade. When he finally was able to speak, his voice wavered, sounding close to a whimper. “Are… are you going to leave me?”

Your fists clenched and you let out a huff of air. “I’ve thought about it, but given the nature of everything, I just can’t up and leave you.” A silence hung in the air. “How the fuck did it get to this point?” Your voice cracked as you repressed the tears that started to rise to the surface.

He jolted forward, rushing to you, kneeling in front of you, taking your hands in his. “Please, please, amore. I’d– I’ll do anything for you. Amata mia. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace.” Sobs rippled through him as he cried at your feet. All you wanted to do was pull him up by his hair and slap him so hard across the face, it would have woken the whole floor up, then scream at him to stop crying. You knew you couldn’t do that. That wasn’t you. So you sat there, silent and stoic, your whole body tense.

After he calmed himself down slightly, his watery eyes gazed up to your towering form. “You promised me,” you breathed through your teeth out of fear that any extra movement would cause you to break down just as he had. You refused to give him the satisfaction.

“I know. I know I did. I… I ruined everything.”

“Why, Terzo? Why did you do it?”

“I… Non lo so.” His lips barely moved as he breathed out words you didn’t care to hear.

You slammed your fist on the table, abruptly pushing yourself out of your chair, needing to get away from his touch. “When are you gonna fucking let me in, Terzo? Huh? This whole ‘us’ thing really won’t work if you don’t ever tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“I-I-I don’t know! She was just there! And– and I knew how wrong it was. I know… but I couldn’t stop. I… I was bored and–”

“You… you were… You– You were bored,” you scoffed. “So I bore you enough to go fuck a wanna be Prime Mover whore?”

His head dropped in his hands. He moved them up through his hair which he gripped so tightly his knuckles turned white and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant,” he groaned.

“Ooh, do enlighten me then!”

“I can’t tell you why I did it, because I don’t know. Veramente (Truly), I don’t know. It’s just– Everything was going so well. Perfect almost. You were taking everything being thrown at you in stride. Your ideas for Ghost, the way you keep me on track, the way you… You were just you. Always there. Always by my side.”

“So you just had to go and fuck it up.”

His shoulders slumped, his jaw clenched. “I don’t deserve you, tesoro. I never did…”

There it was. There was the answer to the multi-million dollar question. You felt your heart shatter as he sat there in his hurt. You scurried over to him, dropping to your knees, holding his face between your hands. With a shake, you forced his dichromatic eyes to find yours. “But you do, Terzo. You do. Satan, I give you everything I have, every day, to show you that.” He turned his head away from you. Your words only made him feel like you were proving his point. “Look at me,” you commanded with another shake. “Before I came here, I didn’t have anything or anyone. I had nothing. When I found you… when you took an interest in me, the kind of person who never had the guts to stand out or be noticed, who didn’t even think they were special enough to catch anyone’s attention, never mind yours… It’s because of you I can even see myself in a different light. Don’t you think someone capable of that deserves someone just as special?”

The kindest words that were ever said to him, the most genuine words, always came from you. He loved you more than anything he could possibly imagine. He knew lately he’d done a piss poor job of proving that to you. He could see the cuts he was inflicting on you. He hated himself for it. He needed you by his side for so many reasons. He needed you to keep him in line. If you ever stopped… If he ever let himself completely lose control… If you ever left him… He couldn’t even imagine the monster he would become.

You didn’t know the depths of the internal battle he was waging on himself, you saw enough of it on his face to know his struggle was heart-wrenching. You loved him. Yes, he royally fucked up, but you still loved him. “We can work through this,” you whispered, moving yourself to intercept his blank stare.

“Will you ever trust me again?”

You winced at the memory. Everytime he came close to regaining your trust, he would do something to break it. Over and over again.

“It was never you who wasn’t good enough, amata mia. You know that,” he purred as his satin covered hands slid up your thighs, taking your dress with them slowly. He paused as his fingers brushed your garter. He toyed with the Grucifix that dangled from it. That he had given you. He smiled affectionately at it, before his devil may care smirk returned. You wearing that wasn’t an insult to him. It was a sign of subconscious devotion.

This was the real Terzo. You chastised yourself for falling for it, yet again. Always a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a lesson you just couldn’t seem to learn. “I am the one who was never worthy of you.” His eyes were locked onto your core. He then stood up, parting your legs by wedging himself between them. As he did so, he dragged his dual-toned irises up your body until they locked with yours. His pupils fully blown out, his breathing became heavier. His lust could only be described as animalistic.

Your words formed a lump in your throat, unable to escape.

He towered over you. His hands grazed along the sides of your entire body. He ripped off your wimple. Your face scrunched at his roughness. One hand, then, settled around your neck, squeezing it, as he put his mouth by your ear. “There is so much for you to learn. So much I have to teach you, demonino mio.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, roaring thunderously in your ears. You felt your blood go from a simmer to boiling. “I’m not your little demon,” you growled as you spat in his face. The hand on your throat swiftly moved to your chin, his grip painful enough to fear it might bruise. He forced you to look at him, to look at his knowing smirk. He knew something you were clueless about.

“Mmm, C’è la mia ragazza (there’s my girl),” he cooed. He kept your face locked in place as he licked your spit off his face, making you watch. Your eyes burned with a ferocity you’ve never felt before. “Satanas, I’ve missed you,” he sighed.

He breathed out a laugh as he unexpectedly dropped to his knees again. Your dress had already moved up so much, nothing was hidden. He pushed your legs open wider as he dove between them, running his nose along your core, inhaling deeply.

“Terzo, stop,” you demanded, trying to squirm your way out of his hold.

“You know you don’t want me to.” He moved up slightly, so his throat was flush against you. When he spoke, it sent undeniably pleasurable shockwaves through you.

“No. Fucking stop! No!” You tried to leap up and push him away from you, but he was stronger and faster. Easily he took your arms and pinned you to the chair, of which you were barely sitting on the edge of in your struggle.

His eyes darkened, his head swayed back and forth as he tutted at you. “Sei stata una ragazza molto cattiva (you have been a very bad girl).” Your arms would surely bruise as he put even more of his weight onto them, further constricting his vice grip he had on you. Relentlessly you still tried to wriggle your way out of his grasp.

Stop fighting, my child… A calming, almost sultry voice, yet somehow also one of safety, rang through your mind.

Terzo pushed his face into the crook of your neck, biting down where it met your shoulder. You cried out as you continued your attempts to writhe away from the monster in front of you. He licked the mark and dragged his tongue all the way up your neck, sucking on the sensitive spot behind your ear. The line between pain and pleasure was beginning to blur. “If you keep trying to fight me, la mia stellina oscura (my little dark star), or you so much as breathe one word of this to a certain Caridnale, he will find himself back in Italia for a very, very long time…” Your body ceased movement. His stronghold on you loosened as he descended once again. “Ora, dimmi, amore, that you don’t want this (Now, tell me, love).”

Give into temptation, my child. The voice rang out again, echoing throughout your mind like a spell to sedate your frayed nerves. You hadn’t the faintest idea why, but this time, you trusted the ethereal voice. You stopped fighting.

Terzo returned to his spot between your legs, humming appreciatively. “Oh, guarda. I can see how much you already want this. Sporco bugiardo (You dirty liar),” he taunted as he ran his finger along the wet patch that had started to pool in your underwear, your body betraying you. While his thumb ran circles around your clit, your breath hitched involuntarily. Your eyes shut, your head turning away in shame. You couldn’t bear to actually watch this.

He teased you, dragging his finger up and down your lace-covered slit, before covering you with the palm of his hand. Now he moved his whole hand in slow, circular motion. He was satisfied when your wetness had completely soaked through your underwear. Next thing you knew, he tore them off you, tossing them over his shoulder onto the desk behind him.

His arm wrapped around your thigh, securing it in place. You couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you felt his tongue circle your clit. His brows furrowed and he let out a sharp huff when he noticed you weren’t watching him work. With his free hand, he grabbed your chin brutishly again, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. You hated the force he was using. You hated seeing the insatiable hunger in his lustful eyes. You hated him. But that all paled in comparison to how much you hated the part of your desire that got caught in the wildfire of your rage.

Once he felt you understood his wordless message, he let go of your chin. Stubborn as ever, and with admirable restraint, you refused to let out the mewls and moans that perilously needed to, biting your cheek until a metallic taste tickled your tongue. The little control you had snapped like an old rubber band when he inserted the first finger inside you. Your hips bucked, craving more friction. The smoothness of his satin glove drove you as mad as it had countless times before. Your breaths became shallow and rapid as he pushed another finger inside you. Pawing at your sweet spot he knew as well as the back of his own hand, you now writhed from the remorseful pleasure. You didn’t even have time to register the smirk he made just before he snuck in a third finger.

“Satanas!” you tried to hiss, but it dissolved on your tongue into a moan. Your eyes slammed shut as your head fell back. Then all movement stopped. You dragged your head up to resume the eye contact he demanded. He stayed frozen, the only movement he made was the one eyebrow he raised, his look expectant of you. You scowled, but in a moment of forgotten animosity, you reached to brush away the hair that had sloppily fallen in his face. “P-please, don’t stop. Please. I need–” that was enough for him to resume with furious intensity.

You found purchase by running your hand through his hair, gripping it so tightly your knuckles went white. As you pushed his head into you, needing even more friction, more pressure, you could feel his fleeting smile before he resumed concentration. “Fuck! T-terz-zo, fuck!” you mewled, the pressure unbearable. You were about to unravel in his hands. “I’m go–” you started to say, but the words died in your mouth just as quickly as he stopped.

He leered over you. He pulled you up by your wrist and grabbed you by your waist. He held you there for a moment, your body flush against his. “You are mine,” he commanded, his voice gravelly. Suddenly he turned you around, pushing you down, bending you over his desk. Your arms caught you as you fell forward. You could hear him undoing his pants and then felt his hand wipe some of your slick off to rub on his dick. A faint, breathy moan escaped his lips as he lined himself up with you. “You will always– be– mine,” he growled as he thrusted into you, punctuating each word with another hard thrust. You cried out in delirious pleasure that overrode the pain of him emphatically bottoming out inside you each time. “È tutto. Ragazza bene. Sì, sei la mia ragazza preferita. È tutto,” he moaned in your ear, repeating what you had overheard him say the first time you found him with another in this very same position.

You reached for the edge of the desk to try and brace yourself, but he pushed his fingers into your mouth, hooking into your cheek. You could taste yourself on his soaked gloves. His pace faltered just slightly as he reached for your wrist and pulled you against him. You moaned around his hand, eyes rolling back, at the slight change in position.

Tears leaked from your eyes due to the overstimulation. You were so close, so, so close. You could feel your pending orgasm building, about ready to explode like a dying star. It had never been like this with him before. Not with Terzo, not with anyone.

Sure, you liked it rough from time to time, but this… this was awakening something else inside you. And it was solely from the sex, it was everything surmounting together: the infidelity, the degradation both public and private, the manipulation… It felt like a caged animal, a beast, which deep down you knew had always lurked inside you just waiting to be set free, waiting for the right time to emerge from your darkest shadows. There was still guilt bubbling up inside you that longed for this to be over, but… you couldn’t deny it, and you would never admit it. This excited you; it terrified you.

His gruff whisper pulled you back to reality, “Voglio che tu venga per me, amore mio… il mio unico vero amore. Vieni. (I want you to come for me, my love… my only true love. Come.)”

You felt yourself erupt, crying out with the force of a hundred hell hounds as your walls pulsated around him, as the most sinful pleasure rippled through your entire body. He kept going with his relentless, starved pace. Only when he spilled himself inside you, did he let up and remove his hand from your mouth. Your cheek, sore, as you tried to adjust your jaw back to normal, tonguing where you still felt the impressions of his fingers.

You stayed there, bent over, laying on the desk. Your bones felt as if they had been liquified. He hummed behind you, pleased with his work. Using the back of his hands, he brushed them up the inside of your legs before wiping both hands along your cunt, gathering whatever excess of fluids his gloves would lap up in one swipe. He removed his gloves, tossing them on the desk beside you. You could hear the soft splat sound they made when they landed near your discarded underwear. His bare hand slapped your ass and you jumped as the sting radiated through you.

Tucking his dick back in his pants and buttoning them up, you could feel him looming over you. You only dragged yourself up to stand when his statue-like presence caused your skin to crawl. Your eyes turned to slits as you turned to face him.

Hooking his finger under your chin, his thumb cleaned up the corners of your mouth. His other hand wiped away the tears that stained your flushed cheeks. “I think your incident at mass can be overlooked now, sì?” he snickered.

The attrition from what had just transpired came crashing down on you like a tsunami causing ripple effects of shame and guilt to wash over you. Suddenly, your breathing became heavy. There was a fire inside your chest that blazed hot enough to burn this entire Abbey to the ground in minutes.

Through temptation has your wrath been spurred. For your sacrifice… you will be… rewarded, that mysterious voice whispered to you again as your body started to shake from the electricity of your fury.

“Ask me again how I could ever love you,” you snarled as you stood up to adjust your dress in a feeble attempt to cover yourself.

“Oh, dolcezza,” his honeyed croon made you want to grab him by the hair and smash his face into the desk behind you. You never knew where these violent thoughts came from, so out of pocket for you. It was gasoline being added to the flames of your wrath. Your hand twitched, almost as if you were about to do it… You were pulled out of your thoughts by his sickly sweet voice. “You have no idea of the power that you possess.” He gently caressed your face, his eyes searching you as if he could see the power he spoke of, as if he was trying to find it. When his knowing smirk shrouded his face again, you had had enough of his bullshit.

You forcefully slapped his hand away from you. You could hear the sting, “Rot in hell, figlio di puttana,” you sneered as you turned to make your exit.

“Only if you’re beside me, amata mia,” he chuckled, rubbing his hand where you hit him, getting too much enjoyment and satisfaction from your reaction. You accepted that you had no idea who the man standing in front of you was or if you ever did and that thought alone only infuriated you even more. He shut up completely when you turned around and glared at him. He could see darkness starting to cloud your eyes. He shook it off, opening his mouth when you only had one more step before you were out of this office. “Oh, amore,” he started, his tone went from casual to sinister, causing you to freeze where you stood. “I mean it, you know, you utter a single syllable of this to Copia, and he’s gone. Sei mio (you are mine).”

Your boiling blood instantly turned to ice. You turned around painstakingly slow. Your rigid body and movements were enough to send shivers down Terzo’s spine. You couldn’t feel it. You had no idea it was happening. The fury of hell shone through your eyes as Terzo watched them fill with black smoke until your eyes turned to dark voids before him. “And I’ll make you wish that I never was.”

You watched as Terzo went slack jawed and his eyes turned into saucers from shock. The anger you felt, the wrath coursed through you like an electric current, was the only thing you cared about. Although you did revel in the fact that he looked terrified enough to cry, you were too wrapped up in your emotions to care.

“I-is that a th-threat, amore?” he stuttered, failing to keep his composure.

“It’s a fucking promise,” you growled, your voice dropping several octaves, sounding borderline inhuman. Terzo stumbled backwards, his hands reaching out behind him to clutch his desk. All you could see was red.

You almost ripped the door off its hinges as you stormed out, leaving it open. You were barely aware of where you were storming off to or that there were two Ghouls making their way towards Terzo’s office. In the haze of your rage, you almost missed how they stopped in their tracks and kneeled the second they saw you. When “Your Eminence,” sounded in your mind from two different and distinct voices as you were a few paces in front of them, your gait slowed. Still bending at the knee, they nodded to you as you passed by. Looking down at them, your brow furrowed for a moment, never having seen this kind of behavior from any Ghoul before. You returned their gesture with a curt, singular nod. They got up to resume going to wherever they were headed and you continued on your war path. Behind you, still watching from his office doorway at the end of the hall, Terzo’s jaw was just about on the floor. He scrambled to get to his phone.

Two Sisters of Sin saw you barreling towards them. Quickly, they moved to the side, but when they saw you up close, they both let out a gasp. You shot them a look only causing them to cower. Once you passed them, they ran down the hall as if they were running for their lives. Your brow furrowed again. “What the fuck…?” you muttered to yourself.

You didn’t have time for this. Terzo said you couldn’t tell Copia about what happened. He never said anything about Sister Imperator. When you reached her office you didn’t even bother to knock, scaring the daylights of her from the sudden burst of noise and movements. Then the color drained from her at the sight of you.

This time, you slammed the door behind you. Sister Imperator backed herself up until she hit the wall. You stood in there for a moment, your breaths coming out in short huffs, almost like pants. Your eyes looked crazed as you widened them. It was like two black holes were staring at Sister Imperator, threatening to destroy anything that got in their way. Chills ran up and down her spine. “Sister, y-your ey– uh…” she sputtered, her breathing becoming shallow. She tried to ignore the tightening feeling in her chest. She swallowed, even though her throat had gone dry. “Sister, w-what happened?”

You charged forward, slamming your hands on her desk, rattling everything on it. She winced and brought her hands up to her chest, clutching her Grucifix rosary beads that hung around her neck. A malevolent sneer etched onto your face. “Terzo happened,” you growled, although this time, it actually sounded like your own voice.

You pushed off her desk and began pacing, slowly, deliberating, as if you were trying to both calm down and calculate something. When you gathered your thoughts and paused, turning to directly face the panicked clergy member, your words sounded nothing less than a warning.

“Imperator, I don’t know what game you and Copia and Lucifer knows who else are playing with Terzo… and I don’t exactly know my role in it,” you clenched your jaw, speaking through your teeth, “since no one cares to divulge that information.” You took a deep breath and regained composure as you feigned innocence. “I only care about how it ends. Do you know how it will end, Sister?” Her mouth hung agape. Any sound that tried to escape was nowhere to be found. She could only shake her head in response. You leaned forward onto the desk again, you slowly pulled your chin in, but you kept your gaze locked on hers, your eyes now almost looking up at her. A smile wider than a cheshire cat’s grew on your face. If Sister Imperator didn’t believe in evil, she certainly did now. “It’s going to end with his head on my altar.”

taglist: @da-rulah @fishwithtitz @ivycasket @water-ghoulette (drop a comment if you'd like to be added!)

part iii | part v

#you're losing me #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #terzo #papa emeritus iii #terzo angst #terzo x reader #terzo x female reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #terzo smut #Spotify

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kiranerysismyhero · 5 months

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what if how we could have both ezri and jadzia in s7 went like this:

jadzia is mortally injured, and the destiny is trying to get her/dax back to trill while she's still on life support. ben comes along bc jadzia is not actually dead yet and he has good reason to distrust the symbiosis commission.

things take a turn and it's looking even more urgent for the symbiont. ben doesn't want to let anyone remove dax from jadzia (again) while she's still alive but is overruled by starfleet brass at the behest of the commission. the ship's surgeon joins dax to ezri, who in this version is still just as reluctant but now at least the 15 minutes of improvised lecture substituting for years of preparation comes from ben. like how would he approach that conversation?

ezri wakes up and meets ben this time as dax... but in the next bed over jadzia is still hanging on. an hour, then two pass and the symbiont's vitals are a lot more stable now in ezri while jadzia is not doing well but is still fighting for her life. the destiny's doctor is kind of lost because they tried to contact trill about how they should care for jadzia but all the symbiosis commission wanted to talk about was dax and how soon could they get their hands on ezri

and ben is like 'okay i know you just met me but also you've known me for lifetimes now... hear me out...' and ezri's like 'yup solid plan let's do it but also what if we took even more risk bc dax's got a bit of starfleet medical now too' and ben's gotta be 'oh i had more appeals ready that you didn't even wait to hear, okay'

basically action sequence now– the destiny had slowed down to respond to an emergency signal and pick up some escape pods bc y'know dominion war, and ben and ezri work together to sneak jadzia into a biobed and off the ship in a runabout. and we see some of ezri accessing previous hosts as they hide the runabout in the debris field and get some distance before the destiny realizes they're missing

and just when it seems like the destiny is going to find them as ezri's breaking down a little bit about 'i'm a counselor and i'm still in training and out of all these lifetimes i'm still the one with the most medical knowledge in here??' as she tries to keep this woman that she remembers being stable-ish in stasis... the defiant decloaks! grabs them! re-cloaks! outta there!

julian checks that ezri is really really sure and then does what the symbiosis commission was never going to consider as an option: rejoining dax to jadzia now that the symbiont has been rehabbed/bolstered by ezri

jadzia is able to recover, if slowly. ezri is physically relatively unharmed by the ordeal, but a whole lot of psychological upheaval just happened and this woman is sat here making jokes about remembering being ezri for a hot minute and while ezri no longer remembers being jadzia, she does remember remembering being jadzia... it makes her head hurt. and jadzia's just like 'nah it was still less traumatic than last time when i had to be awake for more of it' and ezri just desperately wishes she could remember what the hell she means by last time

the symbiosis commission is piiiissed. they reallly want to excommunicate dax, jadzia, and/or ezri for all this but ben's like 'i'm adding the viability of respite care for symbionts to the list of info that you don't want me to share with your whole society' aand the symbiosis commission concedes under the condition that ezri is now GOING to be the next dax, WHENEVER that may be, there has been eNOUGH hot potato with this worm already, you two are going to STAY CLOSE so you don't end up pulling anyone else into dax's chaos being another intermediary when the time comes

so now jadzia and ezri are bureaucratically handcuffed to each other and both alive and have fascinating things to talk about :)

#ezri dax #jadzia dax #ds9 #ds9 spoilers #star trek spoilers #deep space nine #ds9 s7 #worf: 'you are not going to move into our quarters and watch us fuck'#ezri and jadzia: 'NO ONE SUGGESTED THAT!!'#maybe she's given her own quarters but avoids spending any time in them bc suddenly it's lonely being alone in her head #maybe she still tries dating julian and it's not good bc she's using him for company and he's #well he's always spending more time with garak or miles anyway #when voyager returns to the alpha quadrant ezri and seven 👀👀

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bittermuire · 1 year

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Be the first who ever did

unhappily married nessian one-shot, angst, hurt/comfort, nesta is sick

“Okay,” Cassian says, brushing by her, “I’m off. I’ll see you tonight at Helion’s.” He grabs his coat off the rack and swings it around his shoulders. “Don’t be late, alright? Six o’clock.”

Nesta leans against the kitchen counter and nods. She’s never late. She’d be excommunicated by her husband’s friends—not that she’d really mind. He puts his hand on her shoulder and brushes a kiss to her forehead. “Bye,” she says, but his back is turned and he’s pretty much gone.

Without him and his interruptions, his footsteps on the penthouse floor, the place is coldly quiet. Nesta pads to the bathroom and starts to run water for a bath. It’s too cold today to do anything, and her head hurts, anyway. Sometimes Feyre will call and ask her to take care of Nyx, but there’s been no hurried voicemail today, no blinking time on the phone, and she knows the rest of the day will pass in the way of most others: slow, like molasses, tired and dripping, until someone cleans it up in time for the party, the dinner, the gala, the whatever. She puts a hand to her head and fumbles around in the cabinet for painkillers. After she takes a bath she’ll figure out what she’s going to wear tonight.

Out of the bath, she only feels worse. She pins up her hair and ties her robe, then goes to the guest room where she keeps all her clothes. There’s a lot of clothes. Being married to the general of the Night Court gives her a lot of money and a lot of time and a lot of clothes. Numbly she looks through the racks, head spinning.

After three failed attempts at putting an outfit together she shrugs on a pair of pajamas and falls into bed. Just a nap. Then she’ll be fine. It’s a party at Helion’s which means she’ll be flirted with relentlessly. Despite having a mate.

She hugs a pillow to her chest. Despite having a mate she’ll have to smile. All the time for hours. She’ll have to drink. “I thought,” she mumbles, in the morning-hazy room, “they’d have to back off once I got a mate.”

Then she drifts off. Ill at ease in some middle distance.

A horrible screeching noise wakes her up—she jolts up, heart hammering in her chest. It’s just her phone. It buzzes incessantly on the other side of the bed. She grabs around for it and mutters, “Hello?”

“Nesta?” It’s Cassian, against the backdrop of a hundred laughing, glittery voices. “Where are you? It’s six-fifteen.”

She sits up with a hiss. Her whole body hurts. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I’m—”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She swallows, her throat thick. “I was taking a nap and I think—I’ll be there in like, thirty minutes. Just need to get cleaned up.”

There’s a long moment of silence, filled in with the clinking of glasses, small greetings, buoyant laughter. Nesta can see it all in her mind’s eye; how she’s going to endure it tonight, she doesn’t know. She skipped the last party, feigning period cramps. She can’t skip this one.

“No,” he says finally. “No, stay there. You don’t sound good.”

She pauses. “You sure?”

“Yeah, of course. Helion can survive a night without seeing you.”

She laughs a little, relieved. “Okay. See you tonight.”

“Love you.”

She pretends not to hear and hangs up. Two words, very rarely three, one of those rare hallmark signs of the absence of the thing it says it is. He says it to her quite a bit, like a punctuation of their daily life. Love you, he says, as he goes out the door. Love you, he says, as he kisses her shoulder. Love you, he says. He just says it. She used to go to therapy to figure out what this horrible blankness in her is. Not even like a black hole, vengeful and destructive, but just nothing. Blank and unwritten and crumpled up.

She has, by all the standards that matter, a perfect life. She has a college degree she’s never had to put to use. She’s married to a wealthy, handsome, talented member of the Inner Circle, who’s also her mate. She has lots of clothes and lots of time. She has a cute little nephew who likes to go to museums as much as she does. She has a perfect life. Sometimes she sits in the searing hot bath and prays it’ll cut through to her blank-empty heart.

Love you.

Something. Something.

She pulls the comforter up to her chin and shuts her eyes, head pounding, head spinning.

She opens her eyes blearily to a warm hand on her forehead, a figure bending over her. “Nesta,” he whispers. Cassian brushes her hair back and drops to a knee by the bed, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You’re burning up.”

She blinks a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes. She feels horrible, much worse than she did before. “What’re you doing here? What about the party?”

“You didn’t sound good. I wanted to check on you.” He frowns, eyes tracking all over her face. “Have you eaten today?”

She shakes her head with a small sigh.

“Okay. I’ll make some soup.”

Dipping in and out of sleep, she barely makes out his retreating figure in the dark room, the sounds he makes in the kitchen, the painful brightness of the lamp he turns on as he comes back in. “Can you sit up?” he asks her quietly, holding a tray. He places it over her lap once she gets settled.

“Thanks,” she says.

If he responds she can’t hear. He hovers awkwardly in the room, eyes darting around. “Want to watch a movie? Or something? Or can I get you a book?”

She blows over the bowl of steaming soup and shakes her head. “No, that’s okay.” It is a little odd to have him around. In the rare instances where she gets sick, it’s a carefully concealed fact, contained to specific hours when Cassian isn’t around. Even her period is something she keeps secret. Not secret, but separate, rather. She doesn’t like to bother him with her vulnerabilities. He seems to share the sentiment. If he ever gets sick, she hasn’t seen it.

But she doesn’t feel good, and the soup is warm. She looks up at him in his dress pants and button-down, suit jacket cast off somewhere, dark hair made a mess by his hands. She pats the bed and smiles a little. “Sit down and tell me about what happened tonight.”

He grins, kicking off his shoes by the door and coming around to the other side of the bed. “Not a whole lot. You wouldn’t have liked it.”

“Really?” She takes another bite.

“Yeah. It was just… loud and busy and—”

“Fun?” She offers, smiling. He looks at her and laughs, a soft sound.

“Kind of. You know Helion. Anything he organizes is a spectacle. But you weren’t there,” he says matter-of-factly, “so there wasn’t much point in staying.”

Nesta blinks. She blows over the spoon.

He doesn’t really say things like that. Sure, there’s the love you, love you, but beyond that there isn’t much love, much affection, in their marriage. The mating bond is an old world mechanism of power and magic, and most power and magic has been collected and put in museums. Just last week Nesta went and saw Ataraxia, the great silver sword. There was once a time when it was wielded in battle, the same time when a mating bond might have been useful—but the bond clicked during her junior year of university, the only battles and woes being long nights and horrid professors.

And what choice did either of them have? To simply move on was unthinkable. Nesta was in the worst state of her life then. And Cassian was older, and rich, and handsome, and had everything. His best friend was married to her sister. They were mates, they were meant to be. He knelt down in front of her with a ring. Maybe it was really love, at some point. Maybe it was real. She had nothing and he had everything, and he had such strong arms she thought could hold her and put her back together. But now—

“I don’t know if this crossing the line,” he says, and clears his throat. He looks straight ahead and leans his head back on the headboard. “But I told Helion to leave you alone.”

Nesta turns and stares at him. He looks at her too, eyes flicking over her face.

“Sorry. I just thought that at the last dinner he was making you uncomfortable.”

“No, that’s okay.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and tugs at it. She didn’t think he’d noticed. Helion, of course, had monopolized her attention as he always did, and though he seemed harmless he was also exhausting. She’d looked for Cassian across the table and had been surprised to see that he was already looking. “He was. A little.”

“Has he always been like that?” asks Cassian, and she’s surprised by the undercurrent of hardness in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shakes her head, starting to scowl. “Because he’s your—friend. He’s always around. You just want me to say that I don’t like being around him?”

Cassian looks at her like she’s grown two heads. “Yes. Why wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t get it. He wouldn’t ever get it. She’s always been the problem: Nesta, with her unwashed hair in her dirty, cheap apartment, with her patchy resumé and hopeless future. Who was going to hire her? Then he showed up. A rare chance, misshapen with reality.

She looks away. “Forget it,” she says flatly.

“No, I don’t—”

“I said forget it,” she snaps, and his mouth shuts quickly before his brow furrows in something like frustration or confusion. She swallows and looks away. They were doing well moments before. “Let’s just turn on a movie or something.”

He takes the remote and puts on the first decent thing he finds. Katharine Hepburn stalks through the house with a face twisted up in irritation and Nesta shovels soup into her mouth, only half watching. She’s seen this one. She can’t remember its name.

For how good the soup is, it doesn’t help much once the credits are rolling. Her skin is hot to the touch and her head is thick and pounding. Seeing her discomfort, Cassian moves the tray off her lap and takes it to the kitchen. She burrows under the comforter.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks her quietly, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you just want to go to sleep?”

She shakes her head irritably. “Can’t sleep.”

“I can—” he moves to the dresser where Nesta keeps a stack of her favorite books, and holds up one. None other than The Hobbit. “I can read to you.”

About to rebuke him, she imagines, for a moment, what that would be like. She’s always liked his voice. Low and even and reliable. Closing her eyes, she sighs loudly and says, “Okay.”

“Okay.” She can hear the smile in his voice, and feels the bed dip as he settles on his other side again. “Chapter one. Here we go.”

But before he can begin she jerks up, fixing him with a glare.

His mouth twitches. “What?”

“You just don’t get it,” she says flatly. Propping herself up on her elbow, she studies his face, the smooth lines, the shadow of stubble, the dark incisive eyes. The mouth, quirked, full and familiar in more ways than one. In her more particularly self-loathing moments, she hates his face. Now she just wants to look at it. “You don’t get it at all.”

“Enlighten me,” he says, letting The Hobbit fall shut.

“People like Helion are everywhere.” The words spill out before she can grasp them back. Only a little of something flickers in his eye, but he puts it out quickly, listening and watching. She looks away and tries to explain. “Everywhere. Nice guys. Fun guys. They throw parties and think themselves superior because they go to the gym and dress well. They talk circles around those of us who are less witty, and enjoy themselves.” She scowls. “And when you’re pretty like me, these guys just swarm. And you, Cassian—” his eyes widen slightly— “you and Rhys and Azriel are surrounded by these guys and because I’m married to you, I see them all the time. I have to deal with them. All the time. And I can’t say a thing because I am perpetually on thin ice.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I’m on thin ice.”

“What does that even mean?” he says, exasperated. “That’s not true, Nesta!”

She looks down, a familiar burning working its way around her nose and behind her eyes. Does he really just not remember? She feels like the one girl in a Victorian novel who spooks at invisible things, the one everyone else whispers about behind their hands. The crazy one.

Three years ago, Nesta’s apartment was in boxes. She was wearing her favorite faded blue jeans, her soft gray shirt. She’d just washed her hair. On her left pinky finger was the ring her first boyfriend, Wil from third grade, had given her. She wore it whenever she was nervous, whenever she wanted evidence that someone loved her, had loved her. It was silly but days like those were all about getting to the end of them. Superstitions and expired memories and all.

Nesta had decided to get married. On her left ring finger was a simple square cut diamond, pretty, elegant.

Technically Cassian had made the decision. He’d picked the ring, decided where to kneel, specified the bush for the photographer to hide in. But Nesta had decided.

That horrible day. Cornered in her own apartment. Her little sister and her too-tall husband, Lord of Night, sitting on her couch. Her stringy hair, unwashed dishes, stacks of books, piles of laundry—Nesta, look at yourself. We’re here because we care. You need help.

I don’t need help, she’d seethed. Certainly not from you.

It had ended, inevitably, with cow-eyes and the mentioning of his name. Cassian—

Something about her being selfish. Him being patient. That he wanted to take care of her. That he loved her and was hurting and it was something she could fix. So when they left she called him and that week she had sex with him after a candlelit dinner and months later he knelt down and held up a ring and put it on her finger.

Nesta, I love you.

Her apartment was in boxes and her hands were shaking, had been shaking for hours. She’d placed a certain dependance on his loving her. She was getting married in three days—the dress was hanging up in Elain’s closet—the ring, the goddamn ring, on her finger—a cracked door in the townhouse, two voices, hushed, angry, low—I never asked to be shackled to her—Just marry her, Cassian, for god’s sake—the swerving drive back to her apartment in boxes and her hands shaking, shaking for hours.

It wasn’t as though she was unwilling to fall in love. She thought she might give it a try after the whole business of the honeymoon was over. She thought the routine of domesticity might win her over, the anti-depressants, the quiet.

And it wasn’t as though she hated him. She liked him from the start, to be honest. In the suffocating dining room he was a rare warm glow, a slow-blinking eye, an unasking gentleness. For a year he stood beside her. Put food on her plate. Filled her glass. Listened to her when she spoke, an unwavering attention on what she offered, when she offered it. God, she was only twenty!—she’d known him only a year, something like care, like tenderness, like fondness, like love, beating in her chest when she saw him—when she tripped on the stairs and he caught her and something she’d only read about in textbooks slammed fiercely into her heart. Mates.

That’s where it all ended, she supposed. And that’s where the budding feelings, the motivation to be better, were stubbed out. What’s the point? she used to think. We’re chained to each other. No matter who we are and what we do.

And his feelings, his motions, his attempts to romance her, went stale. She couldn’t purge the thought that he didn’t actually want her. It was only duty. Responsibility. They were mates, no matter who they were or what they did.

I never asked to be shackled to her.

Nesta married him with a dry throat, with cold and sweaty hands. She honeymooned with him in Adriata, sat on the warm sand and let him kiss her mouth, tangy and tasting of wine. She moved into his penthouse suite. She bought all the clothes she couldn’t before and wore them to dinners and galas and auctions and fundraisers. She became a socialite, just like her sisters, just like her husband. She dealt with their friends. She swallowed all the hurt, all the bitterness, all the anger. She stopped yelling and shrieking and hissing and sneering. The strength to fight went somewhere she couldn’t find. She dealt with it, with being married to him; a tender truce, she knew he felt the same, and that only made it worse.

“It means,” she says, as coldly as she can manage with a wobbling lower lip, “that I’m the rude bitch you had to marry and I have to be reminded of it every day.”

He sighs, brow drawn tight, and looks down.

She clenches her jaw and refuses to cry.

“You’re not a rude bitch,” he tells her quietly, and looks up at her, his eyes piercing. “You’re wonderful. And I didn’t have to marry you, I wanted to.” A tear slips unbidden down her cheek and he wipes it away, his gaze unbearably, burningly soft. “What’s up with you?”

Shaking her head, she sits up and lays her head against the headboard. Her mouth hangs open as she tries to find the words. For so long she’s been angry—at who, she has no idea. She’s never hated him in the truest sense. She’s hated that she can’t hate him. And now he sits here beside her in their bed, her book in his hands, concern all over his face, concern and care; what would it be like to be loved, really loved? To be told the truth?

The truth, dreadful and true:

She starts to cry. Horrible, embarrassing, stuttering sobs. Her chest heaves and her head pounds and her skin burns as she cries, can’t stop crying.

“Nesta,” he says, sounding alarmed, unsure—then his arms are around her and she smells his cologne and it calms her down, somewhat. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.” He says it over and over. He strokes her hair. She hiccups and chokes on her own spit and sobs and listens to his heart.

As she quiets, he pulls her closer, if possible. He holds her tight to his chest. He rests his chin on the top of her head. She closes her eyes, listens to his heart, and tries to breathe.

“I’m fine,” she says, and sniffles pathetically. Her head spins. “I’m fine.”

He strokes her hair, running his fingers through to the very dead ends. “You’re fine,” he echoes, a rumble in his chest. I know you’re not fine, he seems to say, and she’s grateful that he doesn’t.

They sit there like that for a while, Nesta cocooned in his arms, gathered close. His hand rubs up and down her back. He traces patterns. She keeps her eyes closed but feels him press a kiss to her hair, the lightest brush against her temple. All the while she doesn’t move. If she moves the whole thing will break. They’ll never find their way back again and this will be another one of those expired memories, without physical evidence, no evidence at all.

“Will you talk to me?” he asks finally, a hint of pleading in his voice. He doesn’t let her go or pull away. His breath ruffles her hair. “Will you tell me what’s going on, so I can help?”

She tenses and his arms squeeze slightly. Oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like she’s being trapped, forced to talk, forced to be held—it’s something different and maybe better.

“It’s stupid,” she says hoarsely.

“That’s okay.”

She takes a long, shaky breath. “I just wish that you could—” She breaks off, unable to say it. The truth, dreadful and true.

But he waits. But he holds her and waits and rubs her back, drawing pictures.

“I just wish that you could really love me,” she mutters, like it’s some stupid piece of gossip. He goes deathly still.

Looking into his eyes now, of all times, would be the worst. She keeps herself securely tucked under his chin and prays he won’t move.

“I do. I do love you.” His voice is thick. Insistent.

But she’s past believing him and too much time has passed. She sighs and says, “Don’t lie to me, Cassian, not about this.” His arms tighten at that but before he can say anything, she pushes herself off his chest and winces at the tear stains on his nice white button-down. “I’ve ruined your shirt,” she says. “Sorry.”

“Nesta—”

“I’m taking a bath,” she says lightly. His hands drop from her arms as she clambers off the bed. “Thanks for the soup.” She doesn’t look at him.

“Nesta,” he calls, but her back is turned and she can’t look back.

Looking at him now would be the worst thing of all.

nessian angst so true!!!!

I really did helion dirty in this but to be fair I feel like he WOULD take liberties with someone like nesta. men like that😒

#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #nessian angst

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thesimquarter · 10 months

Text

Some Unused Urbz (GBA) Dialogue

I was looking through the string table in the Urbz for GBA and noticed some dialogue that goes unused in the actual game and decided to catalogue it and share it because I just love things like this.

If you see an '@1', in the dialogue, that's just a placeholder for the player's name (or at least for all of THESE. Sometimes it's used for other things.)

As a side note, the dialogue for this game is pretty well-organized and all the characters have distinct enough voices (TS2GBA DO NOT INTERACT) that it's incredibly easy to figure out who said what. There's also a lot more unused strings, but I'm just focusing on the dialogue right now

First of all, all characters, not just those you can have as a roommate, have roommate acceptance dialogues. So, here are all the unused ones.

BAYOU BOO: Gosh, that's fine idea. Don't mind if I do. BERKELEY CLODD: Sure I'll move in with you. What a splendid way to meet a whole new set of clients. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Sure, I'll live with you, buddy. But be warned: I stay up late. CRAWDAD CLEM: You know, It'd be real fun to share accommodations with you for a bit. Sure. EPHRAM EARL: To haunt your house with your permission, this I will do. PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: Sure, so long as you help me memorize my lines. HARLAN KING: Of course I will. How wonderful! LOTTIE CASH: Okay! That'd be killer! We're going to have such an awesome time. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Sure, why not. It'll be just like college all over again. MAMBO LOA: I would gladly share accommodations with you. When do I move in? Now? MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Sure, why not? So long as you don't mind the smell of bleach. OLDE SALTY: You're darn tooting! I'd be your roommate any day. CRYSTAL: Okay! I can't wait to redecorate your dumpy pad. POLLY NOMIAL: Yes. To maintain a domicile with you would be most enlightening. GIUSEPPI MEZZOALTO: Why not, right? It'll be loads of fun. I'm moving in today! ROXANNA MOXIE: Sure, why not? It'll be fun, you know? A real laugh. THERESA BULLHORN: Yes! I would love to share your life of glamour and fame. DARIUS: Heck yeah, dawg. We can kick it together. DADDY BIGBUCKS: You betcha! DET. DAN D. MANN: It's an interesting proposition. Hm… Consider it done! LILY GATES: An excellent plan! Your place is much closer to where I work! KRIS THISTLE: You want me to move in with you? After all I've done? Wow. You're great. GRAMMA HATTIE: What a grand idea. Your house will be a great place to hold meetings.

There is also an unused set of rep group-related dialogues. These ones most likely being used if you managed to get an exceedingly poor rep with your rep group.

DARIUS: Hey, @1. Check yourself before you wreck your Rep. The Streeties are getting sick of you hanging around. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Sorry to be the one to break this to you, @1, but the rest of the Richies think you're getting a tad uppity. Clean up your act or we'll boot you. POLLY NOMIAL: Our patience with your gradual assimilation into our social sphere is waning. Progress or be excommunicated from the Nerdies. ROXANNA MOXIE: A few words of advice @1. Shape up or ship out of our group. End of story.

These MAY not be unused, but I've never heard of anyone getting any of these messages, and, for the life of me, I could not get them to activate through my own twiddling. There exists no dialogue for actually kicking you out of the rep group. So even if this WAS used, it would just be an empty threat. (I mean… it's implied that it was your rep group that picked you up after you crash landed in Miniopolis, which is why you're apart of it despite not really knowing anyone.)

As a side note, when I was going through getting to -10 rep points with the Richies, after about -6, every time I lost a rep group point, Roxanna Moxie kept on giving my silver plaques. RICHIE silver plaques. Using the Artsie silver plaque dialogue. By the time I was done testing things out, I had five of them. Strange glitch?

So, the Urbz GBA, for whatever reason, doesn’t let us romance the elderly. That doesn't mean that there isn't flirting and kissing dialogue for the unromancable characters! The first dialogue is flirting, and the second one is refusing to accept a kiss.

EPHRAM EARL: A piece of human interest seems to be the loving way. EPHRAM EARL: I cannot kiss that which I cannot touch. HARLAN KING: Eh? Does that have a saucy secondary meaning I am not aware of? HARLAN KING: Ugh! No! Your breath smells like everything but fresh! OLDE SALTY: Arrr, you've cracked my barnacle encrusted heart! OLDE SALTY: I'll kiss no one! Not until you proves your devotion! DADDY BIGBUCKS: Hello there… do you mind if I buy you a small island? DADDY BIGBUCKS: Get away from me, you pest! I'd sooner kiss a sneezing dog. GRAMMA HATTIE: Stop it this instant. I know you're just trying to fool with an old woman's mind. GRAMMA HATTIE: Ack! Help! Help! Police! This boy is trying to inhale me!

Related, when a character accepts a hug or a kiss in-game, they don't say anything. However, there is actually unused dialogue for this event. Almost all of it is just "Aw!". However, there's a few exceptions.

BAYOU BOO: Aw! BAYOU BOO: Plant one right here, girl! BERKELEY CLODD: Come hither and embrace me, @1! BERKELEY CLODD: Ah! LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Come here, you! LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Oh! EPHRAM EARL: If arms were ribbons consider this my bow. EPHRAM EARL: Ah! EWAN WATAHMEE: Hugs are free, yes. But they are also round. EWAN WATAHMEE: Ah! PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: It's so good to see you too! Let's do lunch. PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: Ah! LOTTIE CASH: It's fun to be this close to me, huh? LOTTIE CASH: Oh! LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Wrap your arms around me, baby. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Yeah! MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: You washed your hands before you hugged me, right? MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Eek! CRYSTAL: Gee, thanks. You're sweet. CRYSTAL: Oh! OLDE SALTY: That's right, give poor Olde Salty a nice hug. OLDE SALTY: Yay! DADDY BIGBUCKS: Normally I don't let people touch me if they're not wearing an expensive coat. But for you'll I'll make an exception. DADDY BIGBUCKS: Normally I don't let people kiss me if they're not wearing fruity lip gloss. But for you'll I'll make an exception.

The first dialogue here is accepting a hug; the second is accepting a kiss. All characters not listed here just has "Aw!" as a response to both being kissed and hugged.

There seems to be a scrapped interaction, most likely called 'Talk about Pets.' from the subject of the replies and the fact that it was tucked between 'Talk about Ninjas' and 'Talk about Politics,' which would make the placement alphabetical. I wonder why it went unused!

Not every single character had a line for this. The following characters do not: Bayou Boo, Crawdad Clem, Ephram Earl, Ewan Watahmee Harlan King, Luthor L. Bigbucks, Mambo Loa, Misty Waters, Olde Salty, and Theresa Bullhorn. Some of these characters do have other lines that refer to owning a pet; they just don't have a dialogue here.

BERKELEY CLODD: I looked into buying a talented chimpanzee, but very few know how to pick pock- er, pick their nose. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: I have my pet rabbit to thank for my interest in journalism. Why? Well… isn't it obvious? PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: I was so proud my pet lizard Harvey was cast as the lead in a new gladiator film. Sure he beat me for the role… but he was wonderful! LOTTIE CASH: I have a cute little pug named Paris. You don't think I'll get sued for that, do you? I hope not. MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Sooner or later, every disease that pets get will jump to humans! The end is near! CRYSTAL: I totally want a pet dolphin so it can protect me from sharks. PHOEBE TWIDDLE: My mom was a cat lady and my dad was a dog guy, so I learned to love pets very early on. But I'll never forget the smell. POLLY NOMIAL: Your colorful colloquy is highly amusing. GIUSEPPI MEZZOALTO: If I tell you I like snakes, you'd better not make any jokes. Got it? ROXANNA MOXIE: Come by the carnival sometime! There are lots of needy animals there. SUE PIRNOVA: I'm not organized enough to take care of another creature. The best I can manage is feeding ants. DARIUS: I like goldfish. What? DADDY BIGBUCKS: Yuck! There is nothing worse that a sniveling, drooling, hairy servant who cannot follow orders. DET. DAN D. MANN: When people don't clean up after their pets, who do you think has to do it for them? Huh? I'm asking you because I don't know the answer. LILY GATES: Every time I buy a pet, I get so busy I forget to feed it. And then… well… I shouldn't own any pets. KRIS THISTLE: Don't remind me! My landlord doesn't allow pets, so when I moved here I was forced to sell my ferret. CANNONBALL COLEMAN: I owned a crow a few years ago. He made enough noise to scare ghosts away. I miss that old bird. GRAMMA HATTIE: I'm definitely a cat person. And a dog person. And a chicken person too. I'm really a pet person. DUSTY HOGG: I used to own a small python and a small dog. Now I just own a bigger python.

'Talk about Pets' does not show up in the list of interactions earlier in the string set.

Lincoln Broadsheet has some mission dialogue that, again, may not be unused, but I have never seen, and I have never seen anyone else talk about it.

YOU: Mister Broadsheet, would you help me write a thesis? LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Gosh, I would if I wasn't so busy. Tell you what I can do though: I'll let you use my computer to log in to my research database. That should give you some good ideas. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Hey, have you heard the recent news? A local TV station is filming a new Reality Television Show. YOU: Interesting, but I don't watch much TV. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Me neither, but don't let that stop you from going up to Paradise Island and signing up. If you do well I could write a big article about you. YOU: Are they still letting people sign up? LINCOLN BROADSHEET: I think so. Head up to Paradise Island and see for yourself. And if you do well Id love to write an article on you.

Note: I have been informed that the first two lines in this section actually can happen in-game!

It is also appears he would have given the player the Reality TV Show plotline.

And finally, ‘The Bad Ending.’

DADDY BIGBUCKS: People around here call me Daddy Bigbucks. If you like what you see in Miniopolis, it's a good bet I own it.

This is actually listed next to all the character introductions, so this would have been how Daddy Bigbucks introduced himself, if he were to actually introduce himself. There are placeholders for the other characters who don’t get to say a proper introduction as well (Kris Thistle, Det. Dan D. Mann, Crawdad Clem, Harlan King), but they’re just placeholders. No text of relevance.

#urbz #the urbz #sims handhelds #gba sims #OH and i didn't personally extract all the strings from the game #someone posted it somewhere (i forgot who and where at) and i saved itttt ages ago #was just looking through it and noticed some unused dialogues and decided to share it!#i'm looking through the TSBO string ATM and ngl there isn't very much in the terms of character dialogue #-- AND SOMETHING ELSE. so a few characters in the urbz have dialogues referring to being arrested for passing out #in the sims 2 for gba (a game where you are sent to the medical center if you pass out) there are a few strings referring to #getting arrested for sleeping on public property. but there aren't any in the Urbz whichhhh #i think it's kinda interesting there are references to that in TS2GBA and not this game!

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cuprohastes · 1 year

Text

Dave The Human vs. Religion

The question of religion had come up, as it does.

Dave The Human, female Tsin muttered something at a high pitch at her tablet and Dave the human, formerly Dave the Atrix, formerly also Dave the Human performed some epic side-eye.

Gondy was filling in for the Atrix member of the group, still slightly scarred from having her helmet smacked hard enough to split during the recent disintegration of the station due to Von Neumann's Space squid.

Raxy, her Little Guy was stuffing his face in a way that you don't normally see on an Atrix that size. This suggested to the Daves that the Little Guy was shortly going to be upskilling, getting certified and getting referred to as female...

Given Atrix really just looked at the whole gender thing and opted out, and the whole male/female thing was labelling for other people's benefit, the Daves formed an unspoken and instant agreement that helping Raxy bulk up was their new hobby.

For two people from radically different biologies and cultures, the Daves were staggeringly similar as though some cosmic author had created them with the same voice.

Tsin Dave waggled the tablet. "Homeworld want to make sure everyone's complying with off-world best practices. They want to ensure that we're... ugh: 'Maintaining tradition in line with oof-world guidance'" she grumped.

"First I'm a heretic and a sky-demon and now they want to make sure I'm the right sort and not making you lot think less of us with my wicked deviant ways."

Gondy paused, as did Rax.

"graaaaak?" Rax said, around one of the mysterious and never explained purple bread rolls.

Meta-note about the purple bread rolls: They're actually Ube potato bread rolls. They're steamed in the Caffeteria. The food services are very aware that everyone who encounters them assumes they're a food from some other species culture. It's the little things that make the day to day fun.

youtube

"You never heard about that?" Dave The human said. "Oh well hum..."

Dave the Human gave his buddy full points on her mastery of colloquialism and settled in.

"So there's this legend that many years ago the People - 's us - had an idyllic land, and the concept of evil was unknown. Then one day, Sky Demons, jealous of our ways and our purity of soul absolutely pounded the knekp out of the place and only those of us in the Great Underground Halls, who were devout enough survived. And since that day, to leave the ground is to attract the attention of the Sky Demons."

Gondy raised a claw.

"Boats are OK. Water is theologically still ground."

Gondy put her claw down.

Dave the human said, "That sounds like..."

Dave The Human answered, "Nope, it was Orbital Bombardment. Nation-on nation. The shelters were built because it was a strong possibility that things would get all... ker-blammy."

"Yeesh!"

"Yeah. And the religious angle kind of got shuffled in as this agreement that when everyone got out, nobody wanted to be dancing around pointing claws at other countries and trying to blame them, while it was everyone's fault. Can't really blame them but for a thousand odd years that was the official line."

Gondy said "Wow! I never knew that!"

Dave The Human nodded. "Yeah yeah, it's been pretty common knowledge for a century or so, but still, when we got back into space after the Wallandernoooks showed up to trade, it was a major, major problem and uh well, leaving the Homeworld means you're a Heretic and in league with the Sky Demons according to the Dogma soooo..."

"Huh. And that means...?"

"Not much. Kind of lightly excommunicated. Not really welcome back home where things are a little more traditional. But y'know. No biggie. We're all colonists out here anyway, and we still get Homeworld support. It's just we also have to get audited that we're not giving Homeworld a bad name." She paused and took a long drink of mekp. "Aaaaand this time they want to know if we have a shrine to show you filthy heathens that we're still the number one proper pious type heretical sky demons. F.M.L."

Gondy, Rax and Dave pondered this.

"Gondy... what do Atrix believe in?" Asked Dave the Human.

"Graaak."

"Yeah, Rax, I guess 'some places are lucky' covers it. You know.... good moss, cool rocks, just got a good vibe. The sort of place you can drop a bunch of... what do you call them? Possums."

Dave the Human choked on his water. "Possums?!"

"Grak." Commented Rax and Gondy pulled her tablet out and poked. "Yeah... human smalls." She said, holding up a picture of a possum mis-labelled as an infant human.

"Huh. You guys are adorable when you're young" cooed Dave The Human, who Dave previously rated as about as maternal as a meat grinder.

Dave let it go for now, suspecting this would yield hilarious dividends at some future time, and turned back to Dave the Tsin.

"Ok, this is shaping up to be another wacky hi-jink. What's the gig?

"Gotta build a shrine."

"Any shrine?"

"Pretty much. It's got to be location appropriate. Y'know. The god of the place. To show we're uh... friendly to the local divinities? On theological good terms?"

"OK but... we're all godless atheists, apart form the ones who aren't. Who are you going to build a shrine to?

"Yeah that's kind of it. I mean I don't want to be the grit under anyone's scales..."

"Ohhhh," said Gondy, "Oh oh! Rax, call Garf! I have an idea..."

Several weeks later, the Tsin named Walks-between-Waves arrived as part of the Tsin welfare and general ambassadorial circuit.

O'Patel and Big Ma performed the proper greetings and paperwork, and Dave presented herself.

Walks-Between-Waves ("Just call me Waves") walked up and declaimed, "Heretic, and blasphemer. You bones will never lie with the ancestors, and your meat will rot. You and the demons you dwell with are denied! Cast out as the foul beasts you are. How are you doing? Well I hope?"

Dave bowed, small hands together, big ones outstretched.

"Oh yeah. They're all very nice here." She said. "Did they change the words of the castigation?"

"Oh, no, but some of it needed translating for human language a little," Waves said and added, "such a fun language! Quite the fad back home. And since you're hmm, officially human, I couldn't resist. Now, I believe you have something to show?"

O'Patel looked bemused and said sotto voce to Big Ma, "I think this is going to go well!"

Dave led Waves to the common area where, true enough, there was a shrine. It was made of old pieces of the station recovered from it's partial disassembly. 3D printed and painted panels along the sides showed Tsin, Atrix and Humans, helping each other climb up the sides, to the top of the shrine where someone had creatively frosted some glass and lit it with shifting lights to suggest something exciting and pleasant waited. The thing dripped with moss and a small water feature played down from the back into a shallow bowl of stones.

"Ah!" Said Waves. "Very impressive. Going for extra credit?"

"No..." said Dave. "It's a group effort. Once we started, everyone wanted to help. Especially after we found a small god for the Station that everyone liked... Their name is Arepo."

#tsin #atrix #StationStories #Humans are space orcs #HASO #Dave the human #Arepo #Youtube

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controversial-blorbo-bracket · 9 months

Note

i don't mean to stir up more controversy so feel free to not post this ask, but like. yeah. i don't get it. is harry potter a shitty franchise filled to the brim with subtle bigotry and glorification of various nasty outlooks on humanity? kinda, in my opinion, yeah. is it written by, and profited off of by someone actively using their platform to cause harm to human rights? yeah. would i ever want to engage with the content or fandom? no not really. but does this mean that anyone who even breathes in the direction of Harry Potter content is condoning all this bullshit, or kissing the author's shoes and ideologies, and giving them money to harm the people they want to harm? uh.......... no, not really. what the fuck

like............ yeah. like you said it's a huge franchise. literally a silly little Tumblr poll that will realistically get under 10,000 votes, let alone notes or discussions, is not at all going to compare to the reach she already has. and it feels weird to twist the blame that way— this author is using their writing and manipulation skill to earn lots of money and do awful things with it... and suddenly it's the individual fans' fault that she has that money and reach? and not just the fans, but even people that don't actively go out of their way to excommunicate fans of the media?

sorry to rant in your inbox i just. im pretty sick of all this "inaction against a major celebrity is the same as condoning their abuse of power and influence" stuff that people throw around instead of criticizing why our social power structure is based on popularity and engagement in the first place (which is bound to put the most cultish, manipulative, influential, and charismatic people in power). idk it just feels really skeevy to blame people who enjoy or passively tolerate something that's expertly designed specifically to be appealing by a master manipulator.

you don't have to post this (though i also don't mind if you do) i just wanted to like. bring some of my takes into your inbox cause these anons sounding like they're accusing you of queer blasphemy or some shit over literally just.... letting someone hate their anti-blorbo/love their blorbo that they think everyone else hates.... are just really putting me off. like do they get that this is the "oil companies tell poor people global warming is their fault" argument all over again?

This has been sitting in my askbox for a long time because I wasn’t sure how to address it or whether to even address it or just delete it, as it feels like a topic that’s bigger than I am and I can’t ever properly address all of it. But all I’ll say is, while I agree that not all discussion of Harry Potter or other shitty medias is promotion and we as individuals shouldn’t be held accountable for the actions of a transphobic billionaire, it is still important to approach the subject with nuance and make sure the ways in which we talk about it do not spread harm. I think that’s why so many polls decide to ban it and other medias from their polls, because most of them are designed to find the “best” of something and to insinuate that something from one of those medias can be the best could be harmful. That’s why I’m not gonna post any asks that defend the series as a whole or the franchise as a property, because it’s not right to even humor those who want to downplay transphobia and antisemitism (among others). Aaaanyways all this to say if people discourse about Harry Potter characters in the notes or askbox go for it just remember the real people impacted by the bigotries present in it when considering the way you want to make your discussions

#not a poll #ask #anonymous #discourse #Harry Potter #anti harry potter

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catholic-character-tournament · 10 months

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Round 3 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Gabriel

Well he's an angel so I'm taking him being catholic as canon. There are a lot of themes in the game that point to catholisism specifically.

He's so fucking funny. he listens to nine inch nails and quotes one of the songs in a fight basically "fight me like an animal". he and v1 kind of have this yuri thing going on. he has an official bodypillow. hes a metaphor for being excommunicated and no one gets him like me and my friends do

The *true* Catholic experience is leaving the church and having a gay awakening, ask anyone

its debatable if Gabriel truly believes he's "the one true savior" or is mocking the idea of it

ok im actually gonna write some gabe propaganda bc despite what you may expect from a game called ULTRAKILL theres a lot to be said about his character and how catholicism is represented

Gabriel is a genuinely caring person who struggles to square his desire to help people with his duty as an archangel. He's the only one in Heaven trying to make things better for those in Hell, but his faith is used to manipulate him into committing atrocities against the people he used to protect (see the "TRAITOR" mural in 4-2)

he only realizes his mistakes after losing everything and being sentenced to death, but he still decides with only a little time remaining to try and make things right. for the sake of spoilers i will just say that the measures he takes are... extremely drastic and very enjoyable. i just really like the idea that even facing the end of all living things, no matter how steep your crimes, it is never too late to fix your mistakes. you are never unworthy forgiveness.

hes also SO FUCKING GAY for this dumb little robot. it mauled him so hard he tasted his own blood and he fell in love right there. theres no way this guy has a normal healthy relationship to pain he is soooooooooo fucked. i love him. please vote for Gabriel "patron saint of gay lapsed catholics" Ultrakill !!!!!!!!

Shadow

In sonic destruction (the AI generated fan thing snapcube made a while ago) shadow was catholic or something which I think is reallyyyyyyy funny

Ok listen. I know this is a stretch but hear me out. He says “oh my God” in the Twitter takeovers so we know this is a possibility. I see him as a Christ-like figure because I saw his whole confrontation with Mephiles and was like “this is a thing that happened in the Bible??” and the pose Mephiles shows him in is literally like a crucifixion and Mephiles is meant to be a demon / false prophet reference. And also he’s called a demon in Shadow The Hedgehog 2005 then the guy who calls him that is like “I was wrong I’m sorry” and that also reminds me of a thing with Jesus in The Bible. But the biggest reason is his whole thing with Maria cause I think he’d come to earth and hear Ave Maria once and convert to Catholicism idk he’s like we’re comforted by a female familial figure named Mary sometimes called Maria?? And her color is blue????? Heck yeah I’m in because I Will Cry. Also feel free to share this as propaganda obv even if he doesn’t get in the bracket just. It’s funny.

I feel like he’d battle a lot with being seen or portrayed as a demon and how the aliens he’s related to very much look and act like demons idk lmao- and also I feel like confession would just be good for him I think he needs it for his mental health

There is a debate on the lovely website tunblr that Shadow T. Hedgehog is an allegory for Jesus Christ.

He is Jesus, idk what to tell you. He lived, he was sealed away, he was awakened again and deemed the ultimate lifeforms, he’s angry but not evil, does what he believes is best for people and the world at any given time. Total loser.

#gabriel ultrakill #ultrakill #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #r3 #shadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog

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beskarandkyber · 1 year

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I must say that Bo Katan's conversion to Din's "cult" has got to be one of the worst things I've seen in tv recently. For many reasons. It was so terrible in fact that it has well and truly kicked my interest in the show down a terrifying hundred degrees.

I know a lot of people are up in arms about this season. And I'm devastated to be thinking so negatively of a show that has only ever brought me joy. Writing for The Mandalorian has never been amazing, but I was okay with that because I love Din and his weird little attitude and position towards the galaxy. The characters on the show were enough to keep it alive and fun and carry it without relying too heavily on a fantastically written script. And scenes that were meant to make you feel something did. Stakes were good, and the story progressed just fine. It was a fun, heartwarming show with some badassery tossed in. But holy moly and pie.

To start I can only guess at this point what the point behind Din being excommunicated was. He was obviously messed up over the fact that his family and clan let him go so easily but he understood and accepted the creed. I was excited after he had taken off his helmet and broken the Creed because it opened up this new way to explore the clan and the possible problematic aspects of how he was living and how the the clan worked. This in turn exploring Din's identity as a Mandalorian with the knowledge he's gained from Boba and the other Mandos from season 2. Maybe there is more than one way. Tie this to Bo Katan and her vehement dislike for the clan and the fact that they were together when he broke his own Creed we could have had a huge a fun and impactful conversation about mandalorians, his Creed, where Din stands when he's placed in the gray area of the Mandalorian identity. I'm not saying that the clan is inherently problematic or evil, none of that because subjectively, it's not, but there should have been some type of nuanced conversation that affected Din and his place in the galaxy and the fact that he had a foundling. Not only this but the fact that he had recently come into ownership of the dark saber which places him by Mandalorian tradition and culture at the head of Mandalore. Perhaps predictably I thought that season 3 would contain his battle and internal and external struggle as he's fitted into this place that he never thought he would be in. I was excited to see his relationship with his clan completely changed especially as he sees that he has a new place in the galaxy and starts to perhaps grow away from them which could have led to either an antagonist in Bo Katan or a reluctant ally, or both!

Din felt too listless over the entire situation. That was his family the people who raised him, the people he had sworn his allegiance to, were so quick to dismiss him without hearing him out. But nothing really came out of it, no emotion no internal battles, no anything. We were simply told that he needed to go and get baptized to be redeemed.

I struggle also with the concept of bathing in the living Waters and Bo Katan joining the clan. Baptism is just bathing if there is no intent behind the action. Din was baptized because of his intention and he has a little like prayer thing he said. Bo Katan on the other hand went into the waters to save him and nothing more. There was no intent behind her actions, in the ritualistic sense that there was for Din, which means she was not baptized. And technically, at least in my eyes, it should be null and void the fact that she went after him into the water. And if the show simply was implying that the water held special magical properties the whole thing feels cheap and fake and I hate it.

I think perhaps a lot of my discontentment with this season and Bo Katan's sudden acceptance into a clan that she had previously considered a cult, looked upon with disgust and disdain, came from the fact that we did not get to see this change resonate enough within Din, not even in the book of Boba Fett. Her being accepted so readily into the clan cheapened everything that we were supposed to care about when it came to Din and his redemption. It was humorous in the way that it felt like a slap in the face and salt on the wound, I can only imagine how frustrated I would be if I were in Din's position.

It also cheapens Bo Katan's character as well. What was the point in never showing us any kind of character development in her and then suddenly sticking her in this clan and making the audience think that that was natural and fine? If this was where her character was going since we introduced to her in season 2 I never saw it coming and I find it a strange diminishing of her character, when she could have been a wonderful foil to Din, an antagonist a roadblock, but also someone who he would eventually have to confide in in order to properly handle his new position with the dark saber and eventually maybe it would lead to them having a dual where Bo Katan could win back the dark saber and everything before worked up to put her back on the throne and she learned valuable life lessons made her more tolerable of more people in the galaxy.

Or maybe she would see how much of a failed leader she's been and would come to accept that Din is the Mand'alor. I don't know. And I never will get to know.

I would say more but I think I have too much to say truthfully. All I know is for the first time I've felt disappointment and disinterest in a show I absolutely adore and it's heartbreaking. But I'm tired of accepting poorly made choices in writing for shows this big though. I'm sick of being told to sit and enjoy it and stop complaining when it genuinely sucks. No matter how much I love it. I'm not happy with it and as a viewer I deserve more than half baked plot points and non existent character arcs.

#mini rant #mandalore din #din djarin #the mandalorian #frustrated #disney #din and grogu #the mandalorion spoilers #the mandalorion season 3

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figureofdismay · 3 months

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anyway! trying to decide how weird and eccentric and uncomfortable and dark I can make the Scully Family when Scully was growing up without getting excommunicated lol 💀

I feel like there are a lot of indicators that despite being more boisterous an not suffering a big tragedy like Mulder's family losing Samantha, they were not Happy, Average, Boring and Well Adjusted beneath the surface. It's there in the way the kids went far and wide, the way Scully keeps so many things from her mother, the way only Scully had the special nickname with her father, with the way Melissa turned so completely to New Age mysticism clearly looking for something, in Bill Jr.'s anger issues and the way he was clearly turned into the man of the house way too young while Bill Sr. was away. The way Maggie is caring but in many ways emotionally detached from her kids and comes off as controlling in that sweet, quietly manipulative way that many women in conservative families learn how to be (and, on most recent rewatch, I actually felt like it was Maggie who disapproved more than Ahab to Dana's FBI career, but that she'd used Ahab's worry about his little Starbuck to convince him to take the hard line about it). Most of all it's there in Scully's approval seeking and fixations on older men who have authority over her and in her social perception, which while grounded and aware than Mulder's, is also a bit miscalibrated and out of touch with modern ("modern" considering it was 25 and 30 yrs ago) behavioral norms, speaking to a fairly isolated and even repressive upbringing.

Now, there are levels of what you can do with this, from gently, endearingly quirky, all the way down to outright disturbing and upsetting in various ways. I want to aim somewhere in the middle, but at the same time, all the MSR fic i've read over the last 22 years that touches on Scully's family has embraced the idea of the Scullys and Maggie as the Loving Normal Demonstrative family that functionally adopts Mulder and shows him what having a family is Really Like. And I'm genuinely worried about upsetting people and making readers feel like I'm scoffing at or stomping on their cherished found family comfort plot.

I'm also not at all sure how, in the future when I've got more to post, tagging should work for said background explorations, especially since I'm not sure how much the background matter I'm writing now will stay in any final draft 💀

this is for the "s1 to abduction affair and aftermath" AU Nothing To Pack, btw, the whole concept is just a trojan horse for A) Intimacy Porn and B) character exploration 👀.

#fic: nothing to pack #character theory: scully #txf #fic writing problems

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zundely · 14 days

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Having more dragon age thoughts- this time about my dwarves, and partially about Varric.

So, hot take to lead with- Oghren is actually a much better and more insightful character to criticse dwarven cast system and culture then Varric. The best dwarven companion we ever got is obviously Sigrun but I feel like this one is pretty much self-explanatory, so I feel much more compelled to talk through our two lovely dwarven gentleman.

First thing I want to say is that, while I usually feel need to say that I do not hold anything against Varric as a character, his disdain for dwarven culture is something that bothers me a little. Especially since he is one of 3 dwarven companions we get across whole 3 games, and by far the most popular one. He is actually pretty similar to Sera at times in a way he views his own heretige but the games refuse to address it. Which is a shame because I think his view on the culture he was basically excommunicated from before he was even born should be a bigger deal then some quips about beards and getting antsy any time he steps near a thaig. Like Varric clearly has some very very complicated feelings about all things dwarven- something that no so subtly is a mirror of his very very complicated feelings on his brother who was much more of a 'real dwarf'. It feels like in an attempt to distance himself from what his brother represented Varric also felt a need to distance himself from anything too dwarven. But at the same time we see that it's something he never really let's go off- he is moved by his ancestor's fate in Legacy dlc questline, he keeps up with dwarven politics, he will get a bit miffed at mere mention of him not looking your standard dwarf.

However since dwarven culture doesn't come up half as much as elven one in later games we never really get to do anything with Varric's internalized issues. It's just sort of becomes a running joke that he is "not like other dwarves, that guy he HATES deep roads and he doesn't have a beard". And while that in itself is fine, not all characters have to focus on their relationship with their culture it becomes an issue when Varric is the only companion representative of said culture through 2 out of 3 games. It means the game has much less opportunities to present us with fun lore in an organic fashion because Varric is too busy making sure we know he hates it here. Like why I am more tempted to take Iron Bull to a dwarven ruins the Varric.

Oghren was ultimately a much better point of reference for dwarves because he is a product of this environment and he is surprisingly insightful and self-aware about it. And despite the multitude of ways in which Orzammar failed him he still cares about it. He still takes a lot of pride in his heretige even if all it really brought him is being rejected for becoming the thing it wanted him to be- a killing machine.

And now I am stuck on one hand wishing that there will be SOMETHING done with Varric's not feeling dwarfy enough- on the other however if Varric will be the only dwarven companion in DA:D I am going to scream. I am sorry all the Varric fans, he is either coming back in an advisor style role or I do not want to see him . It sometimes feels like the writers are not comfortable with writing dwarves and they use the 'least dwarfy dwarf' Varric as a get out of jail card and I just want something new.

#varric critical #i think #dragon age #rambles #I am honestly a tad terryfied to post it in case people will take it as an attack on their fav #And it's not... mostly at least #I just miss the edge dwarves had in Origns #da2 #Like a lot of post DA2 Varric I like the potential but the way he is actually writen feels underwhelming #dragon age dwarves

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lokislytherin · 1 year

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JAY HONG CONSPIRACIES

ok so y'all know i love hong jaeyeol / jay and i believe he should have more canonical importance due to the role ptj-nim gave him not only as a good friend of daniel and potential love interest, but also as a strong fighter in his own right, and the son of steve hong, who seems to have more canonical importance than his son (who is part of the OG Squad) at this point.

hence i am creating my own headcanons about jaeyeol's past, present and future, some of which are definitely not going to happen in lookism but i'm just creating them for Fic Purposes.

the valid ones will probably age like cheese but hey! if it ages like cheese it means jay's back in canon so we should all celebrate that together instead! if some of the valid ones age like fine wine someone should hire to me to be their ghostwriter so i can use them as a stepladder to fame as an independent writer /j i'm already working on being an independent writer

anyway here goes nothing!

1. WHY DOESN’T HE SHOW HIS EYES

pretty boy: he has the most beautiful eyes ever, or he has heterochromia, and he's just shy / ashamed / scared of showing them which is sad because we all want to see his eyes come on ptj it's been over 8 whole years since lookism was first published i just want to know if he has eyes man

unlimited powaaaa: he'd be too powerful if he could see properly so ptj nerfed him like gojo satoru blindfold self-nerfing and booted him from the canon timeline

galaxy brain crack aus: he has no eyes that's it. he's medusa and if he looks at people they will turn to stone. he's got shojo manga female protagonist eyes and we'll all pass out immediately if we saw them because they’re too powerful (jaeyeol with gojo satoru style eyes? we’d all die fr)

2. WHY DOESN’T HE TALK

potential to be legit: selective mutism + he'll talk in his own time, he's mute full stop and cannot talk

galaxy brain crack aus: past hanahaki surgery bc he’s implied gay and we all know the effect of societal norms on lookism arcs (been there doing that), he's Really Bad At Socializing so he just Doesn't (doing a komi au for that)

3. WHAT’S WITH HIS PAST?

traumatic gay backstory: came out and didn’t get accepted by the family except joy over time bc she’s a Good Sister, steve hong was like ‘damn i can’t let the public know my son is Gay’ so basically kicked him out of the house but let him have an allowance bc he’s a c- parent (barely above the pass grade but he’s better than what we know of canonical khun eduan from tower of god who i am ranking as a failing grade, and daniel’s mom is s rank parent)

second son vs politics: first son kitae is the most important one bc he’s the one taking on the family business. only daughter joy is also important politically because she could get married off in the future for business partnerships. ideally you want to keep the power so marrying off your second son isn’t that great even if you don’t really care much about him and he doesn’t really care much about what you do, so you just keep him around and he does his thing and you get annoyed because his ‘thing’ involves smoking, driving motorcycles and almost breaking speed limits, beating people up, etc. oh yes you are steve hong.

slightly unseiso and definitely canonically impossible but potential fic material: aboverse. jay excommunicated from the family because he’s an omega born into a family of alphas. the social power scaling could be so interesting to explore because 1) the contrast between the stereotypical submissive and breedable omega who needs to be protected and kickass protector figure jay who is fully capable of taking down his own opponents and then yours as well unless he gets paired up with people like logan lee 2) i believe in switch jaeseok supremacy and i don’t see a lot of bottom jay fics on ao3 but at the same time it would be cool for omega!jay to top and overcome the social stigma attached to being an omega

3. WHAT’S HE DOING NOW?

med student: he quit j high to pursue a degree in medicine because he’s Serious about being a doctor and helping daniel like that, that’s why he had his 1 panel cameo. he just went back to visit his old classmates in hopes that daniel would be there

op character arc: he’s being trained like an anime protagonist rn. miss sophia trained him when he was young, maybe he went to miss sophia again or he went to another master and he’s getting even more deadly at systema and kali arnis so he can fight and protect daniel better! he’s preparing for his Main Protagonist Character Arc or he’s just doing it off screen rip

detective arc: he’s trying to figure out what happened to big daniel through sleuthing and Rich Boy Ways. will do this fix it au in the future

this is way too long. i should’ve made it a thread. but i hope yall had fun reading lmao?? feel free to expand on any of my ideas please i like Discussion if i expand on this i’ll rb too

#so i did a thing #hong jaeyeol #jay hong #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #half of these are actually valid #the other half are stupid fic ideas #that i'm just slapping out here before i forget about them #hong jaeyeol headcanons #lookism headcanons #jay hong headcanons #gay gay homosexual jay (implied)#jaeyeol misser anon #are you proud of me #this one is for the jay stans *blows a kiss at yall*

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off-topic-ig · 5 months

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This came to me in a dream. I'm not kidding. And in my dream it was actually one of their better ones, and given these fuckers did rainbow dash vs starscream I wouldn't put this past them

And yes I know that image of dobby is incredibly cursed. It's honestly the first thing that showed up and all the other pics were kind of crap anyway so I decided fuck it, might as well embrace the weird, uncanny, cringe, cursed energy. That's kind of what memes are all about.

This whole concept is so incredibly cursed. Gollum and the LOTR series is cursed because a character that is meant as a warning of the corrupting power of greed and avarice is now the mascot used to sell mediocre merchandise exploiting the nostalgia and brand recognition of Tolkien's work. If there's a heaven, and Tolkien's looking down on his creation, he'd be as ashamed as God was when he flooded the earth for a fresh start.

Dobby and the HP franchise are cursed because... well do I really need to get into that? I mean I guess I can but I've already typed quite a bit and this dead horse has been beaten, resurrected, and then beaten back to death repeatedly by the internet now. So uh, suffice to say, I view the Harry Potter series as an old cousin that got addicted to some serious drugs, ruined their life, got excommunicated from the family, and now no one talks to them because they've been sharing a lot of problematic shot on Facebook.

That's a lot of writing I just did for this dumbass shitpost, but it's actually a somewhat interesting match-up when you think about it. I mean neither of them are exactly fighters, but Gollum is a ruthless murderer and cannibal, and Dobby is uh, magic I guess? It's been a while since I was into HP in any capacity so I'm not fully aware of the scope of his abilities. Maybe he can do some cool shit, idk.

But in terms of physical strength, I do remember Golly being stronger than he looks in the movies, so Dobby wouldn't stand a chance in a knock-down drag-out brawl. He'd definitely have to get clever.

#death battle #weird dreams #gollum #lotr #dobby #meme #shitpost #cursed #cursed post #cursed image #cursed memes

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