#but i did not like the fact that the priest lied to us

[uraandri]

i was a woman in stem since elementary school cause i remember our religious education teacher telling us how when you boil the first red egg for easter in holy water, it will remain unchanged even a year later, or more precisly, he told us it wouldn’t have a bad smell or any changes in texture if you were to crack it, so when good friday came around i made my mother boil all of the red eggs in holy water, and on the next good friday, so exactly a year later i cracked the eggs (we kept 3 red eggs (the first one was marked with х.в. se we knew exactly which egg it was) and 2 green ones that were not boiled in holy water) and they all smelled so bad i got yelled at for stinking up the house

[anyarose011]

Too Late To Turn Back Now {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: A dislocated shoulder, an insult to end all men, a few lies, going out to eat, and an unwanted revelation about Angus Tully. What a perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve-Eve.

Part 4 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of arm injury, mentions of underage drinking, minor harassment, and discussion of cancer.

This was one of the more lighthearted and fun as hell chapters to write, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 5.0k

Apparently, Angus Tully had gone on another adventure without you. One probably shouldn’t call it an adventure if he went to the chapel, and merely stared at the photo of your dead friend for hours on end.

“Do you think he was praying?” You asked Mary after she told you that while you were helping her make lunch.

“I think he’s just as religious as you.”

You scoffed. “He’d never become a priest.”

“You’d make a lousy nun.”

“I’d be a fun one.”

Once the four of you sat down to eat, your father tried to give you cookies you knew for a fact were given to you by Miss Crane. You also knew they were a week old at this point. Still, to spare your father’s feelings, you broke off a piece. You then put it in your mouth, nodding with a smile before bringing your napkin to your lips as if to clean them, when really you just spat the cookie into it.

Immediately, Angus asked to go to the bathroom, and you knew he wasn’t doing that, but you couldn’t blame him.

“I’m trying.” Your father shrugged, and all you and Mary could do was laugh.

You helped her was the dishes after that, and went back out to the dining hall, still seeing your dad sitting at the same table, alone.

“Everything alright?” You asked.

“Yes, just waiting on Mr. Tully.”

“You honestly can’t force him to learn today.” You scoffed, leaning against one of the chairs. “It’s Christmas Eve-Eve.”

“You always had lessons on Christmas Eve-Eve, and you didn’t complain.”

“I did.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Several times.”

He sighed. “I’ll let him out early by an hour; if you attend as well.”

“Never mind, let him rot.”

“I thought so.” He got up from his chair. “Where on God’s green earth is that boy?”

You watched him leave through the doors Angus took ten minutes ago, and as you were about to go into the kitchen to (lovingly) bother Mary some more, you heard shouting. Now of course, you were (and still are) a nosey bitch, so you had no choice but to also go through the doors leading out into the hallway. You heard Angus first.

“There’s nobody here, okay? Just us two losers, a grieving mom, and your-.”

His face and words fell once he saw you enter, and your father turned to see you standing in the doorframe, looking as if you wandered into something you shouldn’t have. Then, you threw on the attitude.

“What am I now?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

“Oh, wow!” You began with fake enthusiasm.

“I didn’t mean-.”

“-No, no of course you didn’t.”

Your father stepped in. “That’s enough from the both of you. Mr. Tully, I can forgive you for using the phone without permission if-.”

“-If what?” He interrupted. “No, let’s cut the shit: You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”

Of course, your father had detention slips in his back pocket, and of course he threw one up. “That’s a detention.”

Angus pushed past him, groaning and walking fast down the hall. You pursed your lips. “You really showed him.”

“Stuff it, Lady Macbeth.” He scolded, then called Angus. “You just earned yourself a detention, sir. Now, get back here!”

Angus looked back. “Being here with you is already one big fucking detention!”

“Son of a bitch, that’s another detention!”

In response, Angus knocked over a trash can, which caused your father to run like you’d never seen him run before. You should be ashamed that your first instinct was to laugh, but you weren’t and you still aren’t.

You should also have felt like a fool for deciding to run after them as if it were a game. Again, you didn’t feel like one then, and if you were to do it again as an old woman, you would in a heartbeat.

You saw as Angus tore off posters from the wall and would stop at corners just to taunt your father. Then, after running around more than half the school (you had no idea how much honestly, but it was enough for you), you stopped outside of the gym with the both of them. Even with Angus’s back turned, you knew he was contemplating the unthinkable.

“Don’t you even think about it, Mr. Tully.” Your father warned, panting from running. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you, you hear me? Wash my hands.” Angus ignored him, stepping into the gym.

You followed your father as he kept going. “Stop right there, you know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon.”

Angus took one look at the gym equipment, then back to the two of you. “Alea jacta est.”

He winked at you before springing towards the trampoline, bouncing off of it and over the balance beam. When his body landed with a hard ‘thud!’, you and your father were stricken with tense silence.

Which was then broken when an inhuman scream ripped from Angus’ throat.

Still, as your father looked on in horror, you said (being completely unbothered). “He’s faking it.”

When his screams didn’t subside, and you only heard them grow louder and he threw in more explicate language, your smile fell. It was when he got to his knees did you see how mangled his left arm looked, and you felt like you were going to throw up.

Angus Tully was one step ahead of you in that department, and that’s all we should say about that (not that he nearly puked on you; if anyone ever says that, they’re lying and should be shot on sight).

So, that was how, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve-Eve, you came to be standing outside of your father’s shitty 1964 Nova. You and Angus, who was crying while wearing half of his jacket, were shivering violently, waiting for your father to scrape off the car.

“Hurry up!” Both you and him would beg.

“I am hurrying!” Would be your father’s only response, and you saw his face grow redder every time either of you would yell.

Luckily, he managed to (somehow) scrape it all off and you three piled into the car. Even though you were going to anyway, you father insisted you sit in the front (more than likely because he knew you and Angus would probably try to kill each other in a high tense situation, and who would’ve figured he was right).

“I was on thin ice already.” Your father panicked at you as he stepped on the gas to the hospital. “If Woodrup finds out, the facts won’t matter, he’ll make it my fault.”

“It is your fault!” Angus cried from the back of the car, trying to hold his mangled arm up. “You were supposed to be looking after me!”

“I told you to stop!”

“You said you washed your hands of me!”

“No, I meant it metaphorically!”

“Of course you meant it metaphorically. What were you gonna do, actually go and wash your hands?!”

Your father turned back to the road. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, I said I will wash my hands, never once did I say it in the present tense!”

“I don’t know, Pontius Pilate.” You shrugged. “This Jesus guy makes a good point.”

When he hissed your real name, you nearly shrank into your seat. “I don’t need any more of this from you. You were the one to tell me he was faking it anyway!”

“You said that?!” Angus yelled. “Jesus, I knew you hated all men.”

“Not true.” You turned around to look at him. “I would’ve said the exact same thing about a woman, especially if I heard her screaming from your room!”

Out of all the times you made a man cry and left him speechless, this one was and forever will be your favorite (obviously he was crying from his arm, but you liked to think your comment also did that). Your father scolded you for your foul mouth, but it was 100% worth it.

There you three sat in the emergency room, waiting for over an hour for a nurse to let you in, when your father started monologuing to himself.

“This is the end. They’ll inform the school, who will inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You’re gonna get me fired; you.” He looked at Angus, then you. “I hope you like sleeping in the snow, Josephine.”

“I love it more than life itself.” You rolled your eyes.

Angus grumbled. “I’m the one about to lose an arm and all you can think about is yourself.”

“Hey, he was worried about me.” You pointed out.

He turned and glared at you, and you actually felt bad for the first time that day.

A nurse soon approached you, handing your father a clipboard and pen. “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”

Your father, hesitantly, begins to fill it out. It sounded like a joke at first, having to sleep somewhere else, but honestly what were you going to do? You and your father lived in the faculty housing ever since-.

“-Excuse me?” Angus asked the nurse as she was walking away. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”

“It’s just standard procedure.”

“I understand. But look, we were over at Squantz pond playing hockey, and I slipped on the ice.”

Your father whispered. “Angus, what are you doing?”

But he kept going, glancing at you for a moment. “Our mom told him not to take us, but I made him. Our folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”

The nurse still didn’t let up. “Okay, that’s your business. But we just have certain protocols.”

“Yeah, protocols.” Your father tried to warn.

Angus didn’t listen to either. “Please, we ever get to see my dad. It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He looked at you. “We can’t have her dragging him to court again.”

You shook your head, swallowing a pretend lump in your throat. “No. Last time was…oh god.”

He looked back at the nurse.  “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”

What a sucker; it took you and Angus to do ‘Kicked Puppy” eyes for a minute, and she was brining the three of you in to the see the doctor in three.

When they were removing his shirt, they told him first look away from the arm, but they didn’t inform you.

“Is it that bad?” He asked upon hearing your audible disgust.

“Not the worst thing I’ve seen in a hospital.”

Your father slugged you, but not hard enough for it to hurt. Still, the whole thing was a blur as they popped Angus’ arm back into its socket. It was dislocated, not broken, and a part of you selfishly wish that it had been just to spare you from the disgusting noises. That and also Angus’s screaming, as if you hadn’t been objectified to that enough.

The three of you were leaving after Angus' arm was tied in a sling, when your father spoke up.

“Barton men don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Angus asked, readjusting his sling.

"Lie."

“Well, I had momentum.”

“Mhm,” he looked at you. “what’s your excuse?”

You shrugged. “I don’t go to Barton, and I’m not a man. Thank God, by the way, considering I hate all of them.”

Even though you said that sarcastically, neither of the men said you were wrong.

When you three made it to the pharmacy, and your father handed over the prescription, the pharmacist went to search for it. Angus lowered his voice, saying to your dad.

“You said that if Woodrup finds out, you and her screwed. So now he won’t find out.”

“What if your parents ask?” You questioned.

“Never going to happen. Trust me.”

Your father raised his brows. “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”

“Oui, monsieur.” He smirked “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Your father gasped. “Do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”

“All I’m looking for is little thank you that I did something nice for you. That’s all.”

You shrugged, deciding you wanted a treat too. “It is Christmas Eve-Eve.”

Your father took you all out to ‘The Winning Ticket’; the classiest tavern within 50 miles. Classy being the less dingy, place in Barton. As your father and ‘Friend of Some Sort’ had a minor debate on underage drinking, you saw the last waitress you wanted approach.

“Miss Crane, as I live and breathe.” Your father sounded amazed as if he saw Aphrodite herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi guys!” She laughed “Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Well uh,” he gestured to Angus. “This is Mr. Tully.” Then to you beside him. “And this is-you already know my daughter.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “quite well. My niece knows her too if you can believe that.”

He laughed a little louder than he should have, and you wanted to crawl under the table and bang your head against the metal support until you split your skull open.

“Oh, and sure, I know you.” Miss Crane nodded to Angus.

“Angus Tully,” he smiled. “we met outside of Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

“Well, I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part. I just know that miss Hunham talks a lot about you when she visits.”

Aaand now you wanted to just take any of the silverware off the table (even the spoon would work) and stab yourself.

“Does she?” He teased.

You were quick with a comeback. “About how ridiculously annoying you are. I was baking cookies and Elise nearly crawled into the oven because the things I said about you were just too horrible for her to hear.”

“Now be nice.” Your father said.

“When have I never?”

The three of you ordered (after another discussion about alcohol and underage drinking with Miss Crane this time), and it did not escape you or Angus how your father’s eyes were still on her even after she left.

“Ouch,” Angus smiled. “you two have chemistry.”

“That’s the Percodan talking.” Your father pointed out.

“I don’t know, seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive.”

You gagged, not even having the will to come up with a good comeback, you were so disgusted. Thankfully, your father had one.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

You never gave it much thought; your father dating women after your mother died. He just never truly seemed that interested in anyone, and he said it himself, he never goes out. Still…while you do want him to be happy, the woman of interest is your best friend’s aunt-.

Angus pursed his lips. “May I at least go to the bathroom? Sir? “

“You mean the payphone?” Even when he saw Angus’ eyes darken, your father still was not stirred. “Jo March, accompany him, please.”

You sighed. “Why do I have to be his keeper?”

“Because I, Pontius Pilate, washed my hands of him, remember?”

With that being said, you walked with Angus over to the bathrooms, and waited outside with your arms crossed like a child being punished. After a few minutes, he came back out, and the first thing you asked was.

“How’d you lie so easily?”

He gave you a look. “When?”

“The hospital.” You clarified. “You came up with a whole story on the spot that was so convincing, you had a nurse wrapped around your finger within a minute.”

Angus shrugged, beginning to walk away. “You were honestly the icing on the cake.”

“Oh, thank you.” You spoke with sarcasm, following him. “But honestly, you-.”

“-Are you any good at pinball?”

Okay mister ‘Trying to Change the Subject’, you’d play this game (literally and figuratively). “Yeah, I think so.”

He grabbed two dimes from his pocket. “Wanna bet?”

“I guarantee you that’s all the money you have, so there’s nothing to bet.”

“Not exactly.” You both wandered over to the machines. “If I win, you owe me something, and vice versa.”

“And if I wanted you to get out of my life?”

“Done and done, but only If you win, which you won’t.” He put the dimes on top of the machine a guy was playing on.

“Sorry, kid. Next game’s taken.” The many said.

Angus furrowed his brow. “But I just put some dimes down.”

“Don’t care. My buddy’s up next.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works in here. Why don’t you go shoot the other fuckin’ machine?”

“Because I don’t want to shoot the other fuckin’ machine.”

You put your hand on his non-injured arm. “Angus, it’s fine.”

Before he could retaliate, the man lost the game, sighing. “Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo. Kenny! You’re up.”

“Bullshit.” Angus shook his head. “I put my dimes down, so we’re up next.”

“What was that?” You both looked and saw ‘Kenny’, a drunk man with a hook for his right hand. Shit… “Hey, kiddies,” he snapped his fingers at the both of you. “my eyes are up here.”

His friend snorted. “Look at these fucking kids; spoiled little Barton boy and his prissy girlfriend.”

Not the first nor the last time you were a smartass to a man where it will almost get you killed. “I’ll have you know, gentlemen, he is not my boyfriend; he is the reason I hope every day I become an only child.”

“You know what?” Angus stepped in before Kenny could respond. “You can just take my dime.”

“Take it?” He taunted. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”

“No, what I mean is, we could play together.” and let this be known that Angus Tully was not always great at thinking on his feet. “Yeah, you could be my left arm.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?!”

Flinching at his tone, you decided to actually use your brain, for once. “Oh my gosh, I think I hear Dad calling us.” You took Angus’ hand without thinking. “Come on Fitzwilliam, you fucked everything up as always.”

You didn’t care that two, pissed off men were following and yelling at you, you didn’t even care that you were holding Angus’ Tully’s hand and having him trip over his own feet as you pulled him back to your table, you just needed to get out of there.

“Papa,” you call out to your father. “can we go please?”

He hummed at your arrival (and the term of endearment, which you only use if something has gone array).  “Why?”

“Our favorite asshole got us in trouble.”

“Hey!” Kenny shouted at you and Angus. “Why’d you run off? We were just talking to you. Do they teach you manners at that school?”

Hook for hand be damned, your fight or flight instincts kicked in when he put his hand on Angus and you were about to be the reason he’d lose it. Then, Miss Crane stepped in.

“Kenneth, leave them alone, they just came in for some food.”

Still, he looked like he was about to charge the both of you.

Your father stepped in next. “Kenneth, is that right? I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you. It’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentlemen something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”

“The what?” The first guy playing pinball asked.

“The dodo,” Angus said. “it’s an extinct bird.”

“What he’s trying to say is,” Miss Crane translated. “he wants to buy you guys a beer.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to consider it. Kenny nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Same here.” His friend agreed. “I’ll have a Miller.”

“The champagne of beers.” Angus smiled, nodding.

It was when everything final cooled down, and as the two men and Miss Crane left to get their drinks, did you notice you were still holding Angus’ hand. Which you let go of as if you were holding fire in the palm of your hand.

He went back to his moody self after that, as you were walking back to the car after finishing dinner (no connection of course).

“Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

Your father shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it. Here, catch.”

He tossed him the keys, which he caught. Your father continued his lecture, walking ahead of both of you.  “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

Angus glanced at you. “Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.” Your father repeated his words when they stood outside the car.

“Were you ever in the military?”

“Yes, I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected-I have to get in over there.” He said after failing to open the door on the driver’s side. He walked over to the passenger’s (which you begrudgingly allowed Angus to have this time) side that Angus unlocked. “They made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

You opened the back door and slid into the seats, but Angus stayed outside, asking. “Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

Your father already was used to that question from you, so he didn’t even look scared when he hummed his approval.

“You smell.” He got into the car. “And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

He didn’t even wait for his response before rolling the window down anyway. Before you could say something snarky to defend your father, he spoke first. “Trimethylaminuria.”

Angus furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Trimethylaminuria.” He repeated. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.”

“Wow…your whole life?”

Your father nodded.

“No wonder you’re afraid of women.” Angus said your name, glancing back at you. “How did he marry your mom?”

Your jaw dropped, and only inaudible noises came out at first before you settled on. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“For the record,” Your dad interrupted, stunned. “I am not afraid of women, and you shouldn’t be asking a girl personal questions after insulting her father. Jesus.”

Angus nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Getler says I should give more consideration to my audience.”

“Who’s Dr. Getler?” You asked.

“My shrink.”

Your father decided to jump in. “Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good swift kick in the ass?

He scoffed. “Okay, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure, just one thing.”

“Just one?” You and your father questioned.

He nodded, preparing for the absolute worst, but it never came. Your father merely turned back to the front, started the car, and began to make the long drive back to Barton. You weren’t even out of the neighborhood when Angus then asked.

“Fitzwilliam?” He looked at you. “What kind of name is that?”

Your father snickered. “That’s what you called him?”

You shrugged. “The guys thought he was a stuck-up rich boy, but he’s really awkward and looks like he wants to kill himself every time someone looks at him, I had to.”

“He strikes me more as a Hamlet.”

To anyone who didn’t know anything about Shakespeare, that would be a compliment. To you and your father specifically, it made you laugh. Of course Angus Tully would be one of the most overdramatic characters in theatre.

“Seriously,” the boy in question said tiredly. “who the hell is Fitzwilliam?”

Your father shook his head. “My advice, Mr. Tully? Brush up on the classics; Pride and Prejudice would be a good place to start.”

None of you had the strength to do much more that night besides spending time in your rooms before bed. It was as you were a few chapters into Little Women, did you wonder.

“Why were you and my dad yelling at each other this afternoon?”

Angus looked up from his copy of Popular Mechanics to see you in the doorway once you asked that question. You both were both just wearing your pajamas and socks; outfits you had only seen each other in for either a short number of times, in dimmed lighting, or with jackets over.

It felt different this time…stranger, even.

“Hello to you too.” He greeted, setting the magazine down.

“Well?”

Pursing his lips, he didn’t look at you at first before saying. “I was calling a hotel.”

“Your mom’s?”

“No, one in Boston.”

“Why would you…?” The look on his face said it all. That look of regret and pity that you didn’t understand what he meant right away. “Oh…”

You wanted nothing more than to have said it with disgust, but it was disappointment that laced the word. Then, with a mix of anger and even hurt.

“Am I that insufferable to be around?”

He shot his head up. “What? No.”

“Seems like it.” You scoffed, beginning to pace around the room. “What happened to ‘Friends of some sort’? I asked you if we were fine because I felt like you’d gone quiet, and you said we were. I get it; you asked me to tell you the craziest thing that happened to me, and I should’ve just said ‘I got slightly drunk at a party’, not everything. You barely tell me anything about yourself, and then I just go and throw out the shittiest things that have happened to me. It’s not fair, and I’m sorry-.”

“-My father’s dead.”

Nothing could’ve gotten you to shut up faster.

It caused you such a shock, that you sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him. His gaze changed in a matter of seconds; when he first told you and you looked at him, you’d never seen anyone surer. Then, as shock settled into you, discomfort did for him. You let the quietness between you linger for a moment, terrified of your own response.

“I…I had a feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were expecting him to immediately respond, but he didn’t. You debated on just sitting in the silence, or crawling back into your room and pretending this didn’t happen, when Angus finally spoke up.

“I was thirteen, he was…really, really sick for some time but then it just happened so fast and…I don’t really like talking about it, I’m sorry-.”

“-No, I shouldn’t have pressured you-.” You relented first, and ff the circumstances weren’t bleak, it would be funny how you both spoke over each other.

“-You weren’t, you told me something about yourself and I should’ve-.”

“-You aren’t in debt or some bullshit to share anything with me-.”

“-I just haven’t really told people that before-.”

“-Your arm wasn’t the worst thing I saw in a hospital.” You decided to break the loop, and it was successful. “My mother was sick too and…” You chuckled, but felt tears prick your eyes all of a sudden at the thought. “God, she’ll haunt me for this, but she was so skinny the last time I saw her…Cancer. She and my dad were debating on if I should see her like that before she goes, and I won the argument in the end that, yes, I needed to say goodbye. I’m glad I did, no, that’s not what I think of when I think of her but…it scared me. I was eleven.”

He nodded, listening without interruption; a skill that seemed he only acquired during these small moments of vulnerability. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself vulnerable; you were merely answering his questions truthfully based on your experiences (of course; no vulnerability whatsoever. You didn’t open yourself up to others outside of your father and Mary, why would you to Angus Tully?)

“I went to the chapel before anyone else woke up and I just couldn’t stop staring at the picture of Curtis Lamb…I can’t even say it got me thinking about death or anything like that I just…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I felt weird and wanted to run away.”

“I get that.”

“I’m sorry for trying to get a hotel by the way,” he apologized again. “if that matters.”

You gave him a smile. “It does.”

For the first time in a while, you thought you saw him smile too; a genuine one, mind you, not the shit-eating grin he often gave you and everyone else. It was then you decided to get up and head to bed, bidding him goodnight. Then, again, you stopped in the doorway from another thought.

“What were you going to call me?”

“Huh?” He perked his head up.

“When you were crying about being stuck over here for Christmas?” You alluded. “You and my father are losers, Mary’s a grieving mom, but what am I?”

His eyes drifted in thought, then back to you. “‘Your know-it-all daughter.’ That’s what I was gonna say.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling as you backed out into your room. “I do know all, Angus Tully.”

You couldn’t see his face anymore when you went to your bed, but you heard his sarcastic ‘Goodnight’ with him saying your full name, and your chest felt lighter than it did the night prior to talking with him.

…What the hell was happening to you?

You were giddy, you giggled to yourself about nothing and had to hide your mouth under the blanket so Angus wouldn’t hear you in the other room. For a moment, when asking him what he would’ve called you, you wanted him to say ‘pretty’. So much shit happened that day, but the one thing, the one thing that your mind goes back to is taking his hand, and not letting go until you realized-…

…No…

No…

Oh, what the fuck?!

Oh god!

Once you were happy about having a newfound crush on Angus Tully, and now you were in absolute agony.

What a wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve-Eve.

[1800jjbarnes]

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟗: 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ◇

My Everything

【Synopsis】 : Rain was pouring, and your heart was aching. You didn't care what the villagers nor that priest thought about him. You loved him, and you were going to prove it.

『W.C』 : 2.14k

-> Genre: Smut. Fantasy. Demon Au

Paring: Gargoyle!Bucky x Human!Reader

[Warnings] : Public sex [in a garden] sex in the rain. Oral [both receiving] fingering, clit play. Cum play-ish. Making out. Swearing. Pet names. use of the name Soldat. allusion of Hydra in old timey lore. Demonic and religious concepts. Dirty talk. Cemie pie. Squirting.

This story is my own flare of the original creators' webcomic. So the lore, characters, and other story design have been tweaked and changed to fit what i wanted to write. Make sure to check out the original author of this wild story.

I want to thank the original creator of this amazing universe and beautiful character's, @ilustrariane. Please check out their work! It's to die for. You can get there full 18+ E-book and its argh my happy place.

Masterlist | Kinktober List

You ran faster than your legs could carry you, nearly slipping over even bend and turn you took. The pouring rain had soaked your tunic and all of your undergarments. Your shoes were also squelching with every stomp your feet did. You were in a panic, frantically praying that he would be alright. The priest of your village warned you―more like threatened you―about involving yourself with the devil as he put it. ‘Those beasts are not to be trusted. They are demons in disguise. Filth. Inhuman.’

You obviously ignored the old man, having no time with such lies. That beast was the most kindest creature you know. He was more caring than any human you've ever met. He understood you, heard you, got to know you. Everyone in the village only looked at you as the witch's daughter, the spawn of the devil herself. You were nothing and the only way to be something was to submit. Be one with god, marry the priest and prove you were devoted to the lord.

“Soldat! Soldat where are you!!” You called in the blistering winds, repeating the fake name he gave you when you first met. You see, he was in fact a demon, just like the priest had screamed at you, but he was more. He was a gargoyle, one of Lilith's children, trapped, bound to the ruined castle just beyond the village. One of the priests from the before had managed to get his real name and trap him with a blood curse, locking him to only do the bidding of the said man. But now that Soldat was alone, he had no way to break the curse, living the rest of the days in the place he called home, imprisoned by sunlight. You had climbed stairs and rock structures to get up to one of the garden points in the castle, seeing where your lover usually lays, under a concrete arch, empty and bare. Where was he?

You called again but this time your voice got caught in your throat as a giant rumble crashed down to the earth's core. Soldat’s wings were spread wide, having landed only mere meters from you. His huge form was hunched over, his palms spread out on the wet pavement. He had tears in his cold eyes. “I told you to never come back! Why do you not listen.” his voice bellowed around you into the forestry beyond, having enough power to shake the trees.

“I can’t leave you Soldat. Please.” Your tears were covered by the heavy rain pour, your hair sticking to your red puffy face. You couldn’t just forget about him, not now that he had tainted you. He was yours and you, his. And you were going to fight for it, until your last breath.”Look at me!”

Your yelp got the demon's attention, making him stand at all his height. His fanged mouth growled, annoyed but also riddled with guilt. He would never thought the night he had with you was a mistake. Frankly, it was one, if not the best moment in his lifetime. But he needed to keep his distance from you. He needed you safe. Protected, alive. And he was something that was unable to do so. He was filth. A demon. You are this light. Innocent human. He shouldn’t, he can’t be the one that taints such a delicate flower. “Darling, please. I… I can’t.”

You stomped over to his form pushing on his strong broad chest. He fell with little effort landing on the wet concrete, soaking the fabric that wrapped around his waist. He could have held his ground not letting you move his large body with such ease, but he didn’t want to. He needed you close no matter how hard his mind was fighting him. You wasting no time in locking your lips against his. If talking wasn’t going to work then you were going to show him that he was meant for you. You needed him like the air you breathe and he wasn’t about to make the choice to die and leave you alone on this earth without you trying your best to stop him.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered against his lips, feeling his long demonic tongue slip into your mouth. You moaned climbing the creature so your legs dangled over each of his crossed thighs. His hand, the same width as your waist, held tightly on your hip while the other cupped your face, holding you firmly in place. His tongue abused your own for a moment, basking in the rain now only lightly pouring. His nose brushed against yours, lips moving from yours, to your jaw, and then to your collarbone.

“I’ll never leave you my flower. I promise. I’m sorry.” His voice was raw, filled with pain and sorrow. He would never want you to fear such a thing but in toe, had made the fear brew from his outburst. You slide down off his lap falling in between his thighs. Your fingers quickly fumble with his cloth before tugging his growing cock free. The cold rain pouring down made the demon hiss, but your warm hands made his mind spin. Your fingers could barely wrap around the almost hardened cock. Now looking at him probably you now wonder how it even fitted in you in the first place. Your mouth took his tip, jaw aching at the sheer size of him. but you bushed forwards sucking on him making him groan, dipping his head backwards. Your mouth felt amazing even if you couldn’t take him whole. Your whimpers and gags vibrated on his cock in the perfect way and your harsh grip was sending him over the edge. “fuck, if you keep going I’m gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours.”

His growl went straight to your pussy, making you try and take more of him in your mouth, letting saliva drip down your chin, soaking his cock along with his precum. You used one hand to continue stroking him while you used another to slip under your soaked dress, pressing your fingers firmly on your clit. Your moans were the perfect missing piece to send him over the edge, emptying his hot seed down your throat. “Fuck!!” his hand that held your face snaked and tighten in your hair, holding your still as he jerked his hips slightly. You pulled away making some of his juices squirt out on your face.

God, was it a sight to see.

Your wide eyes looking at him with nothing but devotion while covered in his cum.  How did he ever get so lucky finding you in such a cruel dark world? He sat up quickly, ripping all the fabric on your body, throwing the drenched tattered material somewhere across the garden. His huge hands gripped our thighs tugging you up until you sat on his chest, feeling some of your juices leak out onto his scarred body. You felt embarrassed, but your lover couldn’t think about anything in that moment other than having your pussy over his face. So with his insane strength, he lauds you forward, letting your cunt meet his lips. He pushed you down light so your body could lay on top of his while on your back. Tilting your face to the right you see his hardening cock twitch. His long demonic tongue licked a strip up your slit making your whole body visibly shivers. Your nails digging into his hips trying to hold onto any part of his giant frame. “Ffffucckk please!”

His tongue enters you, fucking you slowly as one of his hands lays flat on your tummy pushing pressure onto your body and making your toes curl. His other hand that still gripped tightly on your inner thigh opens slightly so his large thumb could reach your clit, pressing harshly on your nub. He could eat you for hours and never get tired of the way your body moves, the way it responds to every touch he gives or the way you moan and whimper his name over and over again. It was like an angel singing. Elegant, perfect and pure

“Hmm come.” His voice was almost not audible as he kept eating you like a starved beast making the vibrations hit just the right spot to send you reeling over the edge. He gave you no time to relax after your high though as your demonic lover picked you up with no effort at all and bend you over the concrete statue seat that he would sit at for centuries waiting for freedom. All your clothing had been ripped and torn away at this point leaving you completely baring in the cold dark night. The rain had not stopped but only got lighter for a moment before pouring some more. You would surely get sick after this encounter if you were not to leave at this moment. But neither of you made an effort to find shelter or privacy. No, he needed you now just as much as you to him. “Deep breaths Darling.”

His deep grumble was almost lost under the loud blanket of rain echoing in the night. But luckily you hear him, taking a deep breath, steadying yourself on the rock. The tip of his cock rubbed against your soaked folds, before inching in slowly. The burn was pleasurable but still painful. But you couldn’t care at this moment. Another inch went in and the demon had to pace himself, screaming over and over in his mind not to just snap his hips, making you take his cock in one quick swoop. No, he needed patience, even though he was no patient creature. But he managed to find some, only for you. Once he was able to completely bottoming you out. You were both a panting and moaning mess. Your whines didn’t stop as he started to buck his hips in and out. In and out. Testing the waters, seeing what you could handle. And once he saw a green light, his grip on your hips tightened as he began to ruthlessly fuck you against the rough concrete.

Your screams caught the breeze, shattering through the heavy sound of rain. He had turned you around in one single movement need to to feel your body close to his. Your legs couldn’t even wrap fully around your lovers huge waist as he continued fuck you hard and quick.

“Fuck Darling. You feel so good. So tight. Taking my monster cock in such a small body. Good girl.” he snapped his hips with every word. “My. Good. Girl.”

It didn’t take you long for your band in your tummy to tighten. You were so close to the edge and you needed just a little extra. Just a little more. And The demon seemed to read your body like his favourite book, pinching your clit with his large fingers you whaled his name squirting all over his cock. “PLease fuck argh. Your cock is so good. Fuckkk.”

He growled like an animal, latching his sharp teeth on your soft shoulder, wrapping his muscular arms around your tiny human frame. He picked you up, fucking upwards in a new angle. Your body was like a rag doll, letting him fuck you in any position he seemed fit.  His wings caged you, almost like he was protecting you while he also ruining you.

For a beast that seemed to only want to fuck, he cared so much about you. Without him ever saying it, he knew you were the love of his life and he was willing to die for you. Heck, he had already killed for you. And he could kill again if you asked. No matter what the code says about demons hurting humans. He would gladly serve an eternal sentence if it means hurting the ones who hurt you first.

“I’m gonna cum in this ruined cunt of you. Hmm, baby. You gonna take this demon seed?”

“Yes, yes. Please. Give it to me.” and with your soft submissive cries he came deep in your cunt. Filling your full. His come mixed with yours, spilling down his legs, before washing away on the wet floor. His cock slipped out of you but he did not let you down. No, he opened his wings and took off towards the castle without another world. He held you tightly as you watched the garden where he had just defiled you disappear into your view. He was taking you back to his den. The home he had to made for himself. Away from any human or beast's eye.

Were he could tend to you and make sure you were okay and possibly―Most definitely―fuck you some more.

[gold-rhine]

(can answer privately if u want)

how did you manage to write enjou stirring shit up. i need to know for Reasons

(Reasons being: i wanna write him doing that as well so i need to know how you figured that specific brand of Manipulation out)

oh, i love talking about Enjou, he's so fun to write.

Okay, Enjou's main rule is that he doesn't *technically* lie. If you've ever written fae with no-lie rules it should be similar. Everything he says should be true, even if he's seemingly joking - like when he tells traveler you never know what can happen in magic rituals, I could turn into a flame-throwing monster haha! He only lies by omission or by using leading questions. He often answers direct questions with his own questions, which lets him evade, or by what he makes look like a joke.

Like in Enka when traveler arrived and asked him who he is, he asked question in return, like Didn't they tell you there's gonna be a priest who will guide you? Traveler went yeah, they did. Enjou was like Great! You can't be expected to learn new language haha! i'm here to help translate.

He didn't say "I'm the priest who Kokomi said will help you," he asked a leading question to make traveler think about the priest with connection traveler trusted, then he didn't directly confirm he IS the priest and instead re-directed to his function "I'll help to translate", which is true!

Enjou's second rule is that he's a little shit and also a corny nerd. Like there's often a boring stereotype of manipulators being cool and sleek and charismatic, but Enjou is not that. He's a jokerified librarian. He consciously acts lame and corny to make the other person underestimate him and roll their eyes. He loves repeating how he's just a weak bookworm. He will go on info-dumping tangents to bury the lead of manipulation.

He also loves playing with his food, burying little inside jokes which only make sense in hindsight, like "I could turn into a flame-throwing monster". He likes doing the weak nerd routine, he enjoys watching the other person feel superior to him, while knowing he's in control of a situation, and he says corny shit on purpose to make it more pronounced. He should sound corny and just a bit unhinged. He says shit like "Exactomundo". I had to physically restrain myself, bc Enjou absolutely would say Exactomundo while watching a man's world crumbling before him, but I didn't want to ruin the tone for the reader.

So, to write Enjou's brand of manipulation you need to first formulate his end-goal, like what is the purpose of this manipulation? I assume you read my fic since you reference me writing enjou stirring shit up, so i'll use it as example of my thought process. One of the examples in my fic, he wants to convince rizzley that Neuvi gave him the title to buy his loyalty. What are the true facts here? Neuvi did fight hard to give rizzley the title, he says it in his own voice lines. What do we need to add? Malicious intent.

Enjou can't say "Your title was a bribe", bc that's a lie. Instead, he starts with "you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? <...>I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.” It's not a lie, bc if Enjou was a sovereign, he'd probably really do that. On paper, he's talking about himself, but in context of overall conversation it will be obviously extrapolated to Neuvi. This is a form of switching the goal posts from Enjou to Neuvi without outright saying so.

Then, he says true facts:

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out. 

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It's true, it was actually generous, he doesn't lie. But in context of previous implied accusation, it will be read as sarcastic, as saying it was done with selfish reasons.

And then he reinforces with “Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?”, which is a leading question that again, doesn't say anything false outright.

he should also offer the person hes manipulating to beat him up repeatedly, bc hes a freak.

[wawamouse]

Oz Rewatch 3: S5E04: Next Stop Valhalla

Storylines

Jaime tries to kill Guerra and is killed instead; Miguel feels guilty; Alicia Hinden comes to Oz with the dog training program; Augustus, Penders, and Miguel are selected

Miss Sally’s Schoolyard to become Sallycise; Brass confirms to Rebadow he bought the lottery ticket; Martinez hits Brass with a shit cocktail; Gloria tries to get Martinez put in the hospital and then beats him up when he keeps touching her face

Beecher and Schillinger fight during an interaction session; Schillinger antagonises Schibetta;

Peter Marie visits Keller; McClain visits Keller

Winthrop and Guenzel arrive at Oz; Guenzel is taken under Beecher’s wing while Winthrop becomes a prag for the Aryans in Unit B

Frank Urbano arrives at Oz; Beecher asks Pancamo for the Italians help in protecting Guenzel; the Aryans and Italians get into a fight

Gloria tells Ryan he has to tell his mother about his crimes; Ryan breakdances instead; Shupe tells O’Reily that Li going to rape his mom; Ryan and Cyril kill Li

Augustus continues to grieve his mother and ends up breaking his sobriety

Omar annoys Emerald City and Said with his singing, McManus gives him a supply closet to practice in; Redding demands Omar use it to sell drugs; Lalar and Arif complain to Said that he’s neglecting his role as leader; Robson tortures and kills Lalar

Sister: That’s why they gotta stop announcing everything they do in this show, like...

Sister: I feel like [Norma’s] just dead at this point.

Sister: I feel like they’re leading up to him being like a mass shooter or something. Me: You think he’s gonna snap? Sister: He seems like the type...

Sister: …I think being free would making him happy. I mean, [Toby] had that whole vision about being free that did not include [Chris], so I think he’ll be fine.

Sister: You can just tell them anything and they’ll let you through…

Sister: What’s wrong with this guy? What’s he in for? Me: Hate crimes… Murder, officially, I think. Sister: Hate crime? What’s he sniffing people for? Me: He's just a perv...

Sister: …That’s so gross… In my sickened state*, I can’t even summon a bleugh. Me: [Retching noise] Sister: Thanks. (*We got some booster shots yesterday and Sister always gets sick afterward lol)

Sister: When are they going to address that guy whose wife also died? Me: Never. Sister: So why did they introduce her?! To spout off some facts and get shushed by the priest?? Me: Maybe there was originally supposed to be more of a story to it and it go cut. Sister: No, they just wanted to do their little after school special moment and then not deal with it. You know, if any of the Muslims should be having the issues in these episodes, it should be the other guy (Arif), not Mr. Said... Me: They could have issues together. Sister: Yeah. Kill the Nazi helper dude. The one who's egging everything on. Schillinger doesn't even really do stuff on his own anymore. Before, he didn't want to fight and wanted to become a Jesus freak and it was always that guy whispering in his ear. And now look.

Sister: How we know he’s not gonna build a bomb in there? … Oh, I guess they took away all the cleaning supplies…

Stray Thoughts

Sister says Jia Kenmin and Li Chen’s plan to provoke Ryan so they could kill him in self defense was really not thought-out

Sister is convinced that someone is going to die for one of the dogs

Sister believes that killing Robson would get rid of most of the Aryans’ bite since she views him as being the worst out of all the Aryans

Final thoughts

The scene where Robson and what’s his face torture Lalar is the toughest scene to watch in the entire show, imo. And it pisses me off (like, I’m actually getting mad thinking about it right now, lol) that Robson gets more expansion in terms of character as the show progresses, too, because whooooooooo gives a shit about a Nazi?! They still haven’t followed up on Arif’s wife LMAO. Also Urbano gets introduced this episode and they don’t end up doing shit with him, really, either. But let’s learn about this asshole!!

Sister: I feel like they’ve run out of storylines with the Muslims and are just repeating past ones. Wasn’t it [Arif] who was the one complaining about Said’s leadership the last time? And then he couldn’t handle it which caused the whole thing… and now he’s doing it again? Me: I think they just don’t like when Said helps other people. They complained when Said was spending time on Beecher, too… Sister: Yeah, [Arif] is so needy… He’s like “you’re spending too much time with your roommate who you have to stay in a cell with” and also every time he is around, [Said] just wants [Omar] to be quiet anyway…

[silverskye13]

Crawls in, summones. Don't think I didn't see that tag. Rancher SOS AU? - Dove

[looks around conspiratorially.]

Just... Don't tell anyone where you got it okay?

[slips you this snippet]

[tips my hat]

On the house!

Tango was muddling through his clockwork horse’s engine, making sure all his tinkering from the weeks before wasn't falling apart. There were some signs of tension from the heat -- going from a dead stop to a gallop had probably done that -- but nothing looked like it was about to explode or melt or fall apart. He moved on to the less crucial bits, staring into the shoulders to make sure the sockets weren't breaking down from the strain of pulling.

“Does she have a name?”

Jimmy’s voice was so close by his ear, Tango felt it as much as he heard it. He gave an inglorious cry filled with half a dozen incoherent syllables. He spun on his heels and, startled again by how close Jimmy was standing, smacked the swordsman on the arm. He might as well have smacked a brick wall.

“Hey hey hey! Personal space!” Tango shouted, taking a step backwards only to press his back against the horse’s flank, cornered. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or what?”

Jimmy’s eyebrows raised in surprise, his blue eyes so pale in the morning light, they were nearly white. He raised his hands placatingly and laughed, a loud, bubbling sound that turned everything from the expression on his face to the tilt of his shoulders into a grin. “Woah! Sorry Big Man! I thought you heard me come up.”

“Well I didn't!” Tango snapped a little too fiercely, his heart racing. His mouth was dry, and there was a fearful moment where he wondered if Jimmy had seen him, had known what he was doing.

Wonder workers weren't taboo -- at least, not in Anuket City, where innovation was something fervently pursued, and anything that could grant someone a head start was expected to be exploited. But he heard tales of wonder workers who were run out of their villages because of the strangeness of their gifts; of priests of the Hanged Mother and similar cults who would use any excuse to persecute people. More recently, there had even been rumors of a rogue wonder worker to the north whose horrible clay creations came to life and chopped off people's heads. Being a wonder worker was starting to get dangerous again, and Tango… Tango was scared. And it was obvious he was scared. And it struck him suddenly, standing there, pinned between this massive swordsman and his stupid clockwork horse, that he didn't know anything about the man he was traveling with, besides the fact that he whistled and enjoyed small talk, and was capable of great violence.

Jimmy offered an apologetic smile. He kept his hands forward, fingers splayed to reinforce their emptiness, and took a large, exaggerated step back. “I really am sorry, Tango. I should've figured you'd still be a bit keyed up from yesterday. You okay?”

It was all Tango could do not to audibly sigh with relief. He latched onto the excuse like it could save him from drowning. “I’m… yeah I'm a little freaked out I guess. It was hard to get to sleep last night.”

Both not technically lies.

“First time having your life threatened?” Jimmy asked lightheartedly, his smile still apologetic.

“Er… no.” Tango mumbled, scuffing his boot across the ground, feeling embarrassed. “I had a rival engineer sabotage one of my machines once.”

“No kidding?”

“It exploded,” Tango said. “I was lucky I was out of the room when it went off.”

“I did notice you were lacking the ah, outward signs of a close shave with an explosion,” Jimmy laughed nervously, and Tango thought that was probably the most roundabout way to say ‘You've got all your limbs, and aren't covered in burn scars.’

Tango swallowed hard, and decided to change the topic before they dipped into new, perilous territory. “How about you? Feeling… uh… jumpy?”

“What? Me?” Jimmy gave a dashing grin, “I've had worse than a pair of robbers running at me before.” His expression mellowed a bit, and he thumbed the bandages on his forearm thoughtfully. “I'd be lying if I said I was used to this kind of thing. You don't just get used to people trying to kill you. But… I dunno. It's like -- it's like dealing with a fear of deep water by learning how to swim, isn't it? It's scary, but you know how to keep your head above water, yeah?”

Tango blinked, struck momentarily speechless by the unexpectedly profound answer. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, fear not, dear Tango of the Tek Variety,” Jimmy said, reclaiming his bravado. He flashed Tango a winning smile and a sweeping bow. “As long as I'm kicking around, you’re safe. Or as safe as anyone can be, anyway. It is what I'm here for.”

“Right, yeah, exactly,” Tango chuckled, a blush heating the tips of his ears. He could say with honesty he'd never been offered a knightly bow by anyone before. Up until this exact moment, he probably would have called such a gesture showy and stupid. He didn't know how Jimmy had managed to make it charming, Tango could feel his pulse quickening a bit in his chest.

Oh gods.

“We should -- we should get going.” Tango said, desperate for a distraction from this over-friendly swordsman and his dashing bravado. “We’re burning daylight.”

“Right you are,” Jimmy smirked, and, whistling, got to work striking camp. Tango muttered a few choice words under his breath about stupid nonsense feelings and stupid pretty people, and finished checking the horse for repairs.

[bestiarium]

The fairy folk of Elidorus [Welsh mythology, British mythology]

Elidorus is a Welsh folklore character who supposedly lived on the Gower Peninsula. As the story goes, when he was a young lad, Elidorus went to a very strict school where the rules were draconian and the children frequently received beatings. At one point, the boy couldn’t take it anymore and ran away, hiding in a hollow on a riverbank. Elidorus stayed there for several days, wondering what he would do now, when he was found by two peculiar tiny men.

They looked human – except for their diminutive stature – and had fair white skin and very long hair. The two creatures invited him to an amazing country that was filled with delights and sport. Elidorus took their offer and followed his benefactors through a shadowy path into a gorgeous land with meadows, rivers and forests. He did not know where he was, but this strange land was populated with the same tiny creatures as the two who had invited him. Subsequently he was brought before their king, who proceeded to question him.

Eventually, the king had Elidorus brought before his son, who was roughly the same age as the young boy. The two played games together and Elidorus learned a fair bit of the fairies’ language. In this land, the people played a sport with balls made of solid gold. There were also animals here, such as tiny dogs and tiny horses. The tiny people seemed to live mainly on a diet of milk and never consumed fish or meat. They had no churches or similar institutions, rather they were devoted to the very concept of truth. In fact, this devotion was a very important aspect of their society: the fairies absolutely detested lies.

But they weren’t confined to their hidden land, for sometimes the fairies would come into our world (it is often assumed that they visited human markets to partake of our goods and products). Elidorus, too, often returned to Wales (sometimes through the same path he had used to enter the land for the first time, but he also found other paths), where he could share his story with his family. And so he told them about the strange country, the tiny people and the sport with the golden balls. But upon hearing her son’s tale, his mother grew greedy. ‘The next time you go to this strange land,’ she told Elidorus, ‘you have to steal one of these golden balls, for it would make a great gift for me.’

Her son was not a bad person, but he did not want to disobey his mother either. And so he complied and stole one of the balls, but his attempt was soon discovered. Elidorus ran away with his prize but was chased by two of the tiny people. He almost made it all the way home, but stumbled and fell just before his house. The two fairies took back the golden ball and mocked the child before returning to their hidden land.

And hidden it would remain, because when Elidorus  later tried to go back so he could explain his actions, he failed to find the entrance. And he would never find it again.

Later in his life, Elidorus became a priest. When he was an old man, he told the story of the strange little people to bishop David II (the bishop of Saint David’s at the time. Elidorus remembered a good portion of the language he had learned as a child, and could speak it in front of the bishop. Curiously, the bishop recognized some words of the language, because it shared many similarities with Greek, including several identical words.

Source: Roberts, T., 1984, Myths and Legends of Wales, Abercastle Publications. (image source: John Bauer, this illustration is actually unrelated but I rather like it and it fits the story well)

[queer-geordie-nerd]

"As if Croatia and Serbia were competing, desperately wanting to match the level of vulgarity, hateful war-mongering and fascist inclinations of the other side, both sides began spreading rumors, half-lies and panic among their people. Who was to blame for all the troubles? It was crucial to find a culprit. Just as the Albanians were seemingly the chosen guilty party for most Serbian troubles (according to the Serbian media), in Croatia citizens of Serbian descent were quickly singled out as the main historical wrongdoers never to be trusted (according to the Croatian media).

The very fact that someone’s mother happened to be of Serbian ethnicity made that someone automatically suspicious. The second most hated group became the Yugoslav National Army, which the Croatian media portrayed as sympathetic to the Serbian cause (which would soon prove to be tragically true). Suddenly, the families of Yugoslav National Army officials became targets too. In shock, Goran and I realized that his family fulfilled both criteria for being suspicious: a) they were Serbs (since when? I was clueless, as usual) and b) Goran’s father used to be a military officer. I myself had a Serbian biological grandmother. (Would the fact that she had abandoned my mother at birth be an exonerating fact, I asked myself. Does nationalistic blood counting even care for details like this? And what about Jewishness? Was my mother right in advising me not to talk about it?)

I noticed that my Croatian friends and colleagues began speaking to me in a slightly changed tone. So did my Serbian friends. Over and over, I would hear the same exact sentence, spoken with a different accent: “You don’t understand this. You’re not from here.” In Croatia: “You don’t have a right to say anything. You’re not a pure Croat.” Pure? In Serbia: “What do you know about this? You’re not Serbian.” The same verdict would come out in myriad different versions: you don’t belong, you’re not “one of us,” you don’t have the right, you don’t understand, you don’t care about “us,” which side are you on anyway, what are you doing with “them,” why don’t you stay here where you belong, why don’t you go back to where you belong…? The noise was deafening. My mind was boiling.

One thing was clear: I was no longer trusted, in either of the two opposing camps, not even by my friends and colleagues. One of the most effective tactics in the production of hatred is abolishing all contact between opposing sides. This was exactly what both sides were frantically trying to achieve. You could not buy the papers from the other side anymore. You could not listen to the radio from the other side anymore. You could not catch TV programs from the other side anymore. The simple fact of my traveling between the two antagonistic cities was a subversion of the crucial idea of disrupted communication. Very often, in conversations on both sides, I would find myself screaming at the top of my lungs, trying to explain, explain, explain. But nobody was listening anymore.

The other technique in the production of war, an enterprise that was developing daily in front of our eyes, was the rehashing of old World War II wounds on both sides. More and more, the Serbian media began using the word “Ustaše” (the Croatian WWII fascists) to depict the whole Croatian people. The Croatian media, in turn, began using the word “Četnici” (the Serbian WWII monarchists who eventually sided with Hitler) to talk about the Serbian people. What was planted in the media at the time would later become reality. It would become a clear case of self-fulfilling prophecy. The old foes “Ustaše” and “Četnici” would soon rise and take up arms again. Sometimes it would literally be the same arms and the same uniforms that had been hidden away in dusty cellars since 1945.

In Serbia, Milošević, although nominally a Communist, aligned himself tightly with the Serbian Orthodox church. In horror, we were watching processions of Christian Orthodox priests carrying the bones of some important Serbian saint, on national television. The bones of Serbian civilians killed by the Croatian Ustashas during WWII were being diligently dug up from their long-forgotten graves. What was exactly the same on both sides was a harsh and merciless anti-Communism. And a newly discovered religious fever. What was most shocking, on both sides you could feel a deep, intense hatred for the land we had all been taught to love and cherish since our births, our shared country – Yugoslavia. Suddenly, the former loudest, flag-waving Yugoslav patriots became its main vilifiers.

And on both sides, WWII history was being frantically rewritten, picturing the winning anti-Fascists as the bad guys and their foes, the homegrown Fascists, as the good guys. What was inconceivable to me was the absolute readiness of people on both sides to accept the new “truths,” as if they had silently always believed them. The loudest, most enthusiastic revisionists proved to be the former members of the Communist Party. Old uniforms were being quickly replaced by new ones, both physically and metaphorically. As the world around us was crumbling down, my father’s take on things became especially valuable. He knew his history and his politics well. He was an active participant in, and a firsthand witness to a history that was repeating itself before our eyes."

- Mira Furlan, Love Me More Than Anything In the World

[justcommander]

Well, I did get asked to write a little more about my little Father and Children AU.

Some little facts about this unusual trio? Of course, under the cut!

This is long. I'm gonna warn you, this is a whole lot of rambling.

This trio won't stay a trio for long, once Lisa and Father Garcia will reach John. Michael won't be happy to see one of the two. But will eventually accept his presence.

So, we started with Michael, a little more about him. The boy is not doing too well, but is also getting better now under John's care. His hair started to grow back but won't ever be as fluffy and soft as they were before: now they're coarse and grey. If they get grabbed and pulled, they fall right off in thick tufts. His nose is completely gone and he his right leg is permanently wounded, making John's knee look perfect in comparison. So he walks with the help of a crutch. He already got cataract, because of the infection in his eyes. Those sunglasses are a gift from the priest and he refuses to take them off even for sleeping.

Why wasn't he brought to a hospital? Well, John is terrified by those places and can't be the one to bring him there, risking to have police taking him back in for being a suspect for kidnapping and harming a kid that they've been looking for.

But why won't he go back to his parents exactly? They should be still alive. And they are. However, there is a number of motives why he won't do it. He's afraid to return to them now he loos like this, they've never been very caring towards him, and yet he also doesn't want to put them in danger now he got involved in something so much bigger than him. He thinks John is truly the only one who can fight demons and he loves him a lot. To him he's more of a father, than a Father.

How did he convince John that he does not have parents to return to? Easy: He lied about his name. He claimed to be called Michael Garcia. Unfortunately for him Father Garcia manages to contact John and this leads to a lot of misunderstandings. And confusion.

He speaks Spanish, yes. Though uses mostly English because John doesn't understand it. Only when he gets agitated or feels strong emotions of any kind, he slips. Or when Amy starts speaking Latin, he begins to speak Spanish to her. And John loses his mind when they do that.

-

Amy now!

Amy was saved by John just a little too late, but not that late. When he found her, her face had already been carved out but no offering was made. John made good use of that "one bullet" by shooting at Gary, and stopping him before he could continue with the ritual. Yes he shot Gary. Without knowing what he had just done. He took Amy away from him and wrapped up her face in bandages. He narrowly got away with his life and Amy safe in his arms.

What does this mean for her? It means she cannot be exorcised fully, even if he tries, because her body is dead. There is a portal to hell in her face, but without the sacrifice it required, nothing can truly come out. What kept Amy alive was the awareness of having John there for her, caring so much. The Second Death had never happened. The death of the soul was prevented because she never stopped fighting, when he arrived. Despite the pain and everything she lost. He was still there. The UNSPEAKABLE is inside her, but his control is weak. So weak, that she takes over without him even realizing, when he thinks to be the one in control in certain situations.

This means she can use those supernatural powers, stealing them from him. But the longer she does it, the more she risks to lose herself. Every night, she is afraid he could take over while she's asleep too , that's why she does not want to take off that straightjacket and specifically asks to be restrained. John can't bring himself to do it, he's afraid of that thing. So Michael does this instead.

-

Basically they both Love John so much. He gave them a reason to live, he put his life in danger to save them so they will fight for him even if they're frightened by the cultists and by Gary. They're just kids after all. But their Father also became their father, for both of them. They might be scared, but they won't let anyone take him away. In those moments when John's life really is at risk, that's when neither of them would hesitate and jump at those cultists's throats.

Anyway, they are very hard to handle, and they know it. When john faints on the chair after three sleepless nights, they try to put him on the couch and cover him with a blanket. They try to cook, they try to tidy the place. A little apology, for realizing they've exhausted him to this point.

And I wrote way too much. I warned you. This was a ramble. Ops? Maybe I'll write more in the future, when I'll learn to write more by writing less. Gosh, I talk too much.

[liberty-or-death]

There was no one at the ferry in the wilderness; save for a small boat that lies on the water leisurely. "野渡无人舟自横" - The meaning of Fei Du 费渡 and Luo Wenzhou 骆闻舟's Name. (Wei Yingwu 韦应物- Chuzhou’s Xijian 滁州西涧）

I’ve never analysed a priest related meta so here’s a first for me I guess.

It’s a known fact that Fei Du and Luo Wenzhou’s names were censored when the Modu adaptation was released.  The names just stuck out to me so I did some research and WOW, their names were from the same line in a poem (OBVIOUSLY).

And it's a very famous poem too, which is probably why their names were changed because everyone knows what Priest was trying to imply.

So anyway here it goes ~

Their names arise from from Chuzhou’s Xijian 滁州西涧 written by the Tang Dynasty Poet Wei Yingwu 韦应物 (lmao this dude's courtesy name was Yibo XD) .  Chuzhou’s a city located in the Anhui Province. 西涧 Xijian refers to a river located west of Chunzhou. When the poet was the governor of Chunzhou, he frequently visited Xijian and thus, it inspired him to write this poem.  Wei Yingwu has a reputation for writing poetry based on scenery so here's one of them!

独怜幽草涧边生，上有黄鹂深树鸣。 

The only thing I like is the lonely grass that grows by the stream that runs through the valley, and the orioles that cry out in the deep undergrowth.

T/N: 独怜 is a very interesting word. 😍. It can be broken down to 独 (unique, alone) and 怜 (pity, love).  So in this case, most people would interpret this as something was so unique and the poet loved it, or it could also mean something that was  lonely and pitiful 🥲

春潮带雨晚来急，野渡(DU)无人舟(ZHOU)自横。

In the evening, when the spring tide rises and the rain drizzles, the water in the Xijian river becomes increasingly turbulent.  There was no one at the ferry in the wilderness; save for a small boat that lies on the water leisurely. 

"野渡无人舟自横" is a very famous line (Tang 300!) and it has inspired many to draw based on this line alone.

Drawn by Zhang Pin in 1963.

And another painting by Pan Tianshou in 1964

To fully understand this poem, we have to start from the poet’s background. Wei Yingwu came from a rich family, and when he was 15 years old, he was the aide of Emperor Xuanzhong.  In the early days, he was unruly and the villagers under him suffered.  During the An Lushan Rebellion, Xuanzhong fled and Wei Yingwu lost his job. Wei Yingwu then put his mind to studying and eventually, he became an official.  It was said that his past turbulent experiences in his life (the An Lushan Rebellion in particular) inspired his poem. 

As a bonus point, you’re absolutely right  if you’ve read modu and found the vibe of this poem to be very familiar.  Because Priest has used similar imagery throughout the novel.  For example, in Chapter 95:

He was like a traveler walking through the desert, his body utterly broken. And Luo Wenzhou and this tiny house was like a bottle half filled with water that fell from the sky.  Even if it contained arsenic, or if the cold broke apart his fingers one by one ... he could not give it up. - Translation by yours truly. 

[val-of-the-north]

Interesting find regarding the Church of the Deep

While trying to build an argument for Caitha possibly being a wife of Gwyn, I accidentally stumbled upon a little detail that I was not really expecting, but that puts a few things into perspective.

The description of Caitha's Chime claims that the Archbishop concealed its existence because it was considered anathema... however, that didn't seem to make much sense to me, as the one Archbishop mentioned in item descriptions is that of Carim, whom Morne became an apostle of. The thing is, Morne was first a follower of Caitha, and the clergy of Carim (which is part of the Way of White) was taught her miracles from him with little to no problem, so her chime being hidden seemed strange.

So I did something I've grown accustomed to doing because of my time trying to read into the lore of these games: consult the original text and see if there had been an oversight. I used this resource here to do it [x]. It features the Chinese (left), Japanese (middle), and English text from all three games, I recommend checking it out if you are curious about this stuff. Anyways...

In Japanese, the kanji used for the Archbishop of Carim is 大司教 (Daishikyō), which makes sense.

On the other hand, the Archbishop mentioned in the description of Caitha's Chime is 大主教 (Dai shukyō), which is the same kanji used every time the Archdeacons of the Deep are mentioned.

So that explains the apparent discrepancy! The one who concealed Caitha's Chime is one of the three Archdeacons of the Deep, not the Archbishop of Carim. This lines up with stuff we can see in-game as well. The Cathedral of the Deep seems to have been dedicated to Caitha at some point, as it prominently features statues of a weeping woman, with many of the ones found inside the building itself having been covered up by red cloth. One of them, found in the Chapel of Cleansing, was even hidden behind an altar that depicts the Deacons of the Deep, which clearly wasn't there before.

But then, how did the localizers miss this bit? Well, you see, both of those kanjis are extremely similar as you might have noticed... and that's because they both mean Archbishop! And here lies the discovery: 大司教, used for the Archbishop of Carim, refers to an Archbishop of the Catholic Church.

Meanwhile, 大主教, used for the Archdeacons of the Deep, refers to an Archbishop of other denominations, but mainly those of the Orthodox Church.

This revelation explains a few things about the Church of the Deep, like how it's both connected and separate from the Way of White, which according to the way its Archbishop is identified, is inspired by the Catholic Church... and I mean, the fact that Sulyvahn is literally the pope seals the deal for me. It might also help explain Aldrich potentially having a wife in Rosaria, and how he was allowed to have as many children as he did. From what I was told, Orthodox Priests can get married and have children after all.

Archdeacon Royce also genuinely looks the part. The Orthodox clergy is encouraged to grow out their beards, unlike most of the other Christian faiths.

Does this imply Aldrich had a big beard as well? Or perhaps, being the... messy eater that he is, it benefitted him to be shaved clean? I'll leave the pondering to you...

When I first shared this discovery with my friend @katyspersonal, who lives in an Orthodox country, she was quite surprised, but she almost immediately came around to the idea and even told me it fit Aldrich's vibe quite well... so yeah, I'm trusting her judgment on this one lol.

And there it is, a little detail that was understandably lost in translation, but that could shape our understanding of the Church of the Deep a little better.

[waeirfaahl]

Some little thoughts about Hellfire and its singer

Quite unexpected guest for my duscussing. I don't think that I'll tell something new about this antagonist and his song, so I'll focus on some tiny moments that I find interesting. Maybe somebody noticed this, but I'll mention this. Still this character is one of those, who kinda formed my tastes in what the good and threatening enemy has to be.

Judge Claude Frollo is awesome in his monstrosity. He is really well-written not just as antagonist, but also as a character. The way how he is presented, how he looks, how he acts and how deep and cold his voice, I would genuinely believe that judge Frollo is a manifestation of the unnatural death. Not natural one, which is a force of nature that values a life and keeps balance in own quite severe way, but exactly the unnatural death that exists due to the ignorance and malice of human nature. He embodies all dark aspects of human nature, yet he is self-contained, deep and realistic character, what makes him so terrifying.

Why he is the way he is — racist, sexist, chauvinist, hypocrite, narrow-minded fanatic, liar and murderer? I don't think that we need a backstory, because the answer is simple — Frollo is the result and the product of both his time (Middle Ages, hence religious dogmas) and his own decisions. Although, the line about his desire to make the world "pure from vice and sin" and the fact that he is a judge for like 20+ years (and has no claims for getting more power) imply a king is okay with this, so there's the possibility that Frollo could start as more or less devoted, fair-minded and good in his work (and that France really was in horrible conditions, plus wars), but than older he got, than more he got ruthless and blind to his own mistakes and crimes, using his authority for oppression and literal genocide instead of punishing exactly criminals. And, well, his words about cruelty of the world make sense, so you can agree with him in that aspect. I can't tell for sure, whether Frollo is a psychopath or sociopath, although he has some traits of narcissism (at the same time the only living being that Frollo genuinely liked and cared about is his black stallion Snowball); and his view of religion and rationalizing in some senses has some parallels with worldview of Oliver Cromwell, but what I can tell for sure — his arc is in falling into the madness due to own narrow, fanatical, sick and twisted mind despite many events that could change him and save from this path. I don't know, whether the authors did that intentionally or accidentally, but the story (and ephemeral "divine forces") gives to the old judge at least two moments for redemption — the first chance, of course, is Quasimodo, and how Frollo could learn compassion and forgiveness, but no, he psychologically abuses Quasimodo and feeds own ego, using the blatant gaslighting, and the second chance is, of course, Esmeralda, and how Frollo, falling in love with her, could change for her and also change his own worldview, realizing and accepting own imperfection (although, I find it nearly impossible, because in Esmeralda's eyes he was and always will be a monster, a murderer and a tormentor — from another side, at least, in the animated film he has no sadomasochistic tendencies he had in the book; and I find his conflict in the animated film more interesting, deep and complex, because in the book it is basically just "I am actually a priest, my job forbids to me to be interested in women"). But we know, what happened instead — Frollo corrupts the possiblity of love and turns into the pure possessiveness and wrath, viewing it as a witchcraft that causes lust (because Frollo is absolutely sure that all Romani are demons, and there can't be love from them and/or to them, only dirty carnal pleasure). He ignored and failed everything, blamed everyone and everything in own mistakes and crimes, he lied to himself and hence he was the reason of own demise. Frollo's main animator was Kathy Zielinski, and she perfectly nailed his nature and also added few subtle details in his animation and expressions. For example, you can notice some kind of hesitation and regret during "God have mercy on her..." line after he burned Esmeralda's scarf, considering her escape from the church as the rejection of his attention... ah, not kidding, that's terrifying — imagine, you're young girl with own life, and at the same time some unknown to you man (or the person, who tries to erase your people) draws his future with you, creates the idolized image of you and gets furious that you "rejected" him despite the fact that you even never interacted with him and promised nothing to him (and you have no idea about this creep and what's in his mind). Another interesting detail that I noticed in Frollo's animation, and I'd like to ask Kathy about this — it seems that Frollo is left-handed inborn, but later he trained to be right-handed. Because he uses his left hand very often and confidently and exactly during the moments, when you will use exactly your working and active hand.

So, about Hellfire. For real, for me it was mind-blowing. The beauty of this song is in psychology and the fact that we can see what happens in Frollo's twisted and sick mind, what he feels and thinks and why — the two opposite feelings toward the one person, contradictional feelings because of Frollo's beliefs and view on Esmeralda's origin, her belonging to those he killed his whole life. The core of his song is not a lust (I'd say that it is not the case despite the fetishism with Esmeralda's hair and her scarf that he hid and wore on his chest), it's exactly the possessiveness, mixed with blatant fanaticism, egocentrism and victimblaming. Basically "Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I'll be your slave!" thing. And now I'll try to explain, why I think so. In the animated film, at least, I can understand, why Frollo was interested in Esmeralda — she is not just a young pretty girl, she is smart, she is kind, she is brave, her spirit is free, strong and untamed, she can stand for herself, and she dared to oppose him. So no wonder, why he could be interested in her — there's something more than "just a beautiful body" (and it doesn't contradict to the movie's message and why Esmeralda ended up with Phoebus — he saw Esmeralda as an equal and living person, psychologically he was the only mature man in contrast to Frollo and Quasimodo, and at the same time Quasimodo is more mature than Frollo, because the inexperienced boy, who lived in isolation, really values Esmeralda and her choice and happiness). Because, I'm sorry, although in the book Esmeralda (or Agness, that's her true name in the book) is 15 years old, but as a character or a person she has nothing except of beautiful body, and she has no brains in the book (especially the scene with her mother near the end confirms that). And this thought came to my mind after I noticed the one certain detail in Hellfire sequence. For sure, my favourite moment of this song is "Or else let her be mine and mine alone!". It is the only scene, where Frollo dreams without obsession. It is the only tender scene with him, and it is the only scene, where he is shown vulnerable and lonely, and that makes this scene very personal and impactful. What's interesting, the early version was different, hence it gave different perception. In the early version it is the blatant lust, the carnal desire, mad obsession, because Frollo moves to Esmeralda's smoke spirit as a predator and tries to grab her exactly as a predator tries to catch and grab its prey, as well as Esmeralda here is depersonalized and... dead, she just flies and then disappears, she is just an image, not something alive, just a body instead of living person.

In contrast to this, in the final version the scene hits differently — Frollo walks to her with open arms, as well as Esmeralda's spirit, now pure and ethereal, flies to him with open arms and tenderly touchs his face, so he tries to hug her, but she disapperas, so he looks at it with sadness. The final version is more subtle and ambiguous and leaves the clear hint that Frollo really wanted to be loved by her the way he is (exactly in terms of feelings and platonic side). It shows the sadistic, racist, narcissistic, ruthless, fanatical, hypocritical and deluded sociopath from different side — as a lonely and lost person, who doesn't understand his own feelings and hence is afraid of them and despises them, and who through his narrow, ossified, sick and twisted worldview corrupts initially a pure and sincere feeling toward the brave and kind young girl and turns into a sinful and disgusting act of obsession and possessiveness, erasing any chance for alternative, depriving himself of any alternative. His line "Why I see her dancing there? Why her smoldring eyes still scorch my soul?" kinda hint that he never experienced these feelings (in the festival scene, where Esmeralda kisses Frollo for cheering up, you can notice how embarrassed, timid and meek he is at this moment, but as soon as she jokingly moves his hat on his face and runs back on the stage, he again is in anger state), they are not familliar for him, he can't understand, accept and control it, so it only makes his anger on himself and especially on Esmeralda (again victimblaming) stronger and more destructive.

And it also plays on a viewer's empathy, because even with this gorgeous scene the song and the movie give the right message — no matter what, after all what he has done he's the dangerous and irredeemable stalker and murderer. Judge Frollo is that kind of wonderful human monsters that you will enjoy to analyze, but never want to meet in real life. P.S. Speaking about backstory — maybe at Frollo's youth some gipsy woman predicted that in his next life Frollo will have lots of hot girls through his life, but at the old age he will die due to the stroke during "love play" with another young woman in one old town in the forest. And this town was Twin Peaks. P.S.s. (UPD) In early drafts there was some backstory of Frollo's hatred toward Romani people — it was some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. When Frollo was young and became a judge and celebrated that with his friends, some old gipsy woman predicted that his ambitions will destroy him, so Frollo gets furious, because he worked hard for getting this job etc, and he considered the prophecy as a witchcraft and started to chase this old lady, so after this his hatred toward Romani has started. Basically Kung Fu Panda 2 prologue or whatever. I would more quickly assume the self-hatred or self-loath issues, caused by Frollo's own origin and the perception of Romani people as demons that must be sent back to Hell for centuries, i.e. he himself could be part gipsy (most likely 1/2 from his mother, hence lying to Quasimodo about his mother, Claude kinda talked about own mother that was "a heartless gipsy who is not capable of real love and abandoned him", so the same image he projects on Esmeralda, expecting from her the same betrayal and at the same time wanting to be loved by her). On another hand, we already had the antagonist with self-hatred issues — Judge Doom from Who Framed Roger Rabbit 1988 movie.

[jacksprostate]

primal fear thoughts

the thing about primal fear is it sets itself up for so much moral ambiguity... but in the last scene, the line about killing Laura — it takes it all away. Okay, Roy, Aaron whatever, is a gleeful murderer and murdered not just the priest (who deserved it) but his fellow victim. The moral ambiguity is lost to stick it to Vail.

Which is like, I guess that works. But is it not more interesting to keep it on the note where: yes, he lied. Yes, he's not so innocent and perfect. Yes, he murdered the priest. But does that mean he deserves the death penalty that was set up for him? In the eyes of the law its wrong, but is that itself wrong? The fact that the discovery of his sexual abuse was a negative, something that condemned him rather than the reverend; is there not something wrong about that? Of course supposedly in those cases things should go through the proper channels, but as the movie itself illustrates, these men often face no consequences by the law.

I don't know. I find that more interesting. Especially as it would interweave with Vail's own sense of righteousness in representing his golden hearted sleazebags; they're sleazebags, but he proves them not to be, by getting them off in court as they deserve, right? He's able to just... make the moral and legal rights align. Isn't that nice. And he did here too, but not knowingly, and the legal right is false. Does he still believe in innocence when it's not legally ordained, even when the corruption and flaws of the system are what pushed him out of his job in the state office?

So idk, I find that a lot more worthwhile. If I do anything with Primal Fear you can assume I'm treating this as a version of the story where the Laura murder comment is in some way either not real or fake. Maybe Aaron says it to get Vail to fuck off. After all, he saw what happened the last time a man offered him so much for free. Etc. Don't think I mean to retcon Aaron being much more violent, abrasive, etc, either. I don't. But the pointless murder which only serves to stick it to Vail's savior complex but also dunk on his belief in goodness or whatever? Nah, I'll pass. I want a better story than that, and it set itself up for a damn good one. Even within the story presented to us... It's not completely offbase of an assumption, I think. There's no evidence he's telling the truth then any more than any other time he's bullshitted to Marty. Of course, you know due to author's intent that that's supposed to be true. But, well, I suppose it's death of the author.

[o0anapher0o]

Miss Lily and character stereotpyes

I’ve been re-reading @halo4life2017-blog's rewatch blogs and the discussion we had about Miss Lily and about how Lestat might at some point tell us he only killed her because she was actually planning on blackmailing Louis or something like that, and I had some more thoughts I need to get out.

The thing about Lily as Louis presents her is, she’s a stereotype. The ‘whore with the heart of gold’ is a common trope. It’s a cliché the same way the though, street-hard, black pimp is, or the rich European genteel who is abhorred by American racism, the stately southern matron who saves face at all cost even if it means waving off a guests outburst with a comment about the weather, the sassy little sister who supports her gay brother and only wants to see him happy, or the religious zealot who is really a gentle angel when he’s not possessed by the holy spirit. All those are sterotypes that Louis uses when he introduces the people in his life to the story, ways he tries to shape the narrative perception of them. Or maybe lies he tells himself about them.

And all of these stereotypes get dismantled within the first episode: Louis is really a sensitive baby gay who likes to read and cries at the opera. Lestat is a terrifying vampire, who we can rightfully assume has never cared about how black people are treated anywhere prior to meeting Louis, and really still doesn’t.  Florence is an emotionally abusive bitch who happily unloads her own grief on her child, Grace is mommy little princess who deserts Louis when he needs her most to side with Florence and Paul is a condescending brat who shamelessly uses his mental illness for the liberties it gives him (we don’t talk about it enough because mental illness is tricky and Paul is a great character, but the way he acts towards Grace’s fiancé and wedding, and how he talks to the priests when he goes to confession are on a level of entitlement that’s breathtaking. And that’s instances when he’s supposedly ‘right in the head’. My favourite is ‘I wasn’t being rude”, like, yes, you were. Just because the voices in your head told you to say it doesn’t mean it’s not rude to say it and the fact that you’re trying to justify it tells me you know that.).

You could probably make a similar case almost all other characters, Bricktop, Tom Anderson, Levi, all of them are initially presented in a very stereotypical way and later we’re shown they are not quite what they seem at first (Fenwick might be the exception here, he’s always a horrible racist pig). Except for Lily. She never gets the chance to be shown as more, because she gets killed off-screen and is never brought up again.

But we do get hints that everything isn’t as Louis presents it with Lestat’s throwaway comment on her wretched life, or the fact that it takes Louis two weeks to even notice she was dead, which tells me they weren’t as close as some people seem to believe. (Yes, he was a regular customer, one she might even have liked but they definitely weren’t friends.). So yeah, I won’t be surprised if we do learn about some nefarious goings on she was involved in. That’s not to make Lestat look better btw, he did kill her and the main reason was no doubt to get a reaction from Louis and/or to dismantle his support system, but I do think there was more to it than that just ‘she was a poor substitute’. And just as a side note: since we tend to treat Louis as an unreliable narrator (justifiably so) if and when the time comes we certainly need to look at Lestat’s story the same way, because I’m pretty sure if anyone is trying to make Lestat look better, it’s going to be Lestat.  

[justarandomlambblog]

Working on some concepts for Narinder's Living World realm, the forest beyond the Gateway. Sleeping Hollow won the poll which I am happy about bc that was my vote too

Totally not taking advantage of this to play around with building a unique culture <- anthropology major

Just a note that I don't think I made very clear in my notes on the page, Narinder was chained Below in his own temple, and it was witnessed in front of many of his most loyal followers. The Bishops blocked off the entire region, rather than trying to take it over as if they were heretics (call it sentimentality, call it not wanting to deal with it, whichever you prefer), and in doing so have isolated the region from the rest of the world. So while the rest of the world begins to fall apart bc the Bishops are kinda going mad at this point and are trying to hold onto their authority/the Old Faith so hard that they are actively driving it away from what it used to be- so ironically, Sleeping Hollow is the only region that truly remains as the Old Faith once was, having been untouched by outsiders for centuries.

I wanted to make a concept for the temple but I'm undecided on what it should look like. All I know is the people of Sleeping Hollow have left it be, being the place their master was betrayed. Narinder's scythe still lies on the floor where he was finally defeated :)

Transcription below the cut bc my handwriting is shit, numbered for your reading convenience. Anything in [brackets] are add-ons after the fact-

(1) Sleeping Hollow is primarily an oak forest, with large towering oak trees. They're ancient.

(2) Graveyards are surrounded by oaks, but only weeping willows grow inside the graveyard clearing

(3) A thousand years isolated from the rest of the world has allowed the people to build larger villages w/out fear of heretics destroying them [aka they're proper villages/towns rather than just camps]

(4) People of Sleeping Hollow build up a lot [multi-story homes], and live in communal homes [often multiple families will live in one large home]

(5) The graves [in the graveyards] are mannered, organized & sprawling, unlike other regions. They are well kept.

(6) The Hollow is surrounded by wrought-iron fences & it is forbidden to enter. The only way in or out is in the Gateway and the Temple Warp Pad

(7) The people of Sleeping Hollow, primarily felines and canines, are peaceful, but trained for hunting/defending.

They dress like people did in the height of the Old Faith [long robes, jewelry, etc], and are devoted to their chained master still

Ironically, due to the other four Bishops' cruelty and desperation to uphold the Old Faith & their rein, Sleeping Hollow now bears the most resemblance to the world that used to be

(7b) *Cats originate from this region. Cats found in other regions are the descendants of those who left before the Bishops blocked Sleeping Hollow off

(8) Makeup, usually black ink for the eyes [eyeliner yea] and lips, and random spots. [alternatives, mostly for dark-furred creatures, include white ink]

(9) Lantern Festival every year to honor the dead, Festival Outfits!! <3

(10) Crowns are not worn, but married folk wear forehead jewelry

Ears are pierced as a coming of age, and each piercing means something (usually for family) [i.e. they might get a piercing for their parents and siblings, a new piercing for each child they have, etc]

(11) Priests paint an eye on their foreheads & wear cloaks over their clothes. ONLY priests are permitted the painted eye. [exception: anyone declared a saint can, as well, but they're usually priests already so-]

(12) Every graveyard [and often the villages as well] has this statue for "protection" [the way many graveyards have angel statues], all [of the statues] in other regions were destroyed [it used to be all graveyards in the Old Faith had them, since all paths lead to Death].

[elina-sakura]

I’m just going say it although the book of death/Shinigami’s powers is cool also the big idea of the gameplay;in a way is kinda useless mostly on the fact the culprit dies,i mean HOW ARE YOU GONNA GET A CLEAR TRUTH WITHOUT A CLEAR CONFESSION!!!,also it just made it worse now that there now a person mysteriously dies out of nowhere,but they managed to put it in storyline sooooooo

Yeah something to think about

I think maybe it has to do with since Shinigami is the God of Death, her power is going to have a connection over on death. But you bring up a good point that it isn’t exactly useful considering it makes exposing the criminals harder.

Until I remember in Chapter 0 after the first Mystery Labyrinth from a YouTube gameplay I watched, where Shinigami comments how Yuma is now free since the culprit is dead, which the YouTuber comments that wasn’t going to work because Zilch was meant to be dead from the start and they only ended up reaffirming that narrative the Peacekeepers were painting to begin with. And I was thinking to myself, ‘didn’t they already figured out that the Peacekeepers were in on the plan in the Mystery Labyrinth? So why did she think the Peacekeepers would let him go if they were planning to frame him anyway?’ And that led me to think really hard about this.

We know Shinigami has the flaws of lacking empathy and not understanding humans at times, since she is an immortal god. I think in her mind, since the culprit is gone, there would be no reason for the Peacekeepers to keep framing him. Plus, again thinking into Shinigami’s mind, I think she believed since the culprit was a murderer would mean they would probably kill more people in the future, so the real goal was to stop a growing threat from claiming more victims like before.

And the killing thing? I think it’s a way to deal the justice in the holder’s own hands, to off the culprits so they don’t keep harming people from the mysteries they made, or claiming anymore victims from their deeds. In Chapter 1, one of the culprit was a serial killer, who would have gone off to kill more people. And the other culprit could have technically become a serial killer himself since he admired the Nail Man so much. Plus, an innocent man was going to get framed and executed for the Nail Man’s crimes to keep up appearances, and seeing how the Priest was going along with the lie, basically implied he was okay letting an actual, innocent man die in his place. Then in Chapter 2, Kurumi gets framed for the crime, and since execution seems to be a thing, she could have been executed herself, all so the Peacekeepers can keep their lies and appearance in place.

Plus, we have seen that the Peacekeepers don’t necessarily care about justice unless it serves them (or the higher-ups like Yomi in this case). They are willing to cover up the mysteries to convenient themselves and get what they want. And considering they are the police force, therefore the handlers of justice in Kanai Ward, they are the only ones in power that can lock away the criminals in hand and bring justice. But because they are so corrupt and self-indulgent, they are more willing to let criminals go or turn a blind eye or fail to solve the case thoroughly. So the Book of Death is the only way to ensure not only are the criminals are properly dealt with, but also cut away the Mystery Labyrinths as well. Since Shinigami has noted that if the Mystery Labyrinth grew and remain, they would influence other people into becoming murderers or criminals that would create more Mystery Labyrinths as well. As it was theorized by Yakool-Foolio that Kanai Ward’s Ultimate Secret’s own Mystery Labyrinth is what most likely led to the city becoming more crime-filled and creating their own Mystery Labyrinths as well.

It’s also important to note that there are other corrupt officials out in the world like the Unified Government who wants to keep their own secrets hidden away to keep up appearances. So it wouldn’t be far-fetched if there were other corrupt forces like the Unified Government and the Peacekeepers who would keep things secrets for their own benefits. Plus, we learned in chapter five that Number One of the World Detective Organization that he is actually in charge of issuing criminals to be sent to the death penalties, as noted here by Shiut, so I think executions and death penalties are uncommon in the Master Detective Archives world. So it wouldn’t be such a big deal for criminals to just die, even if it is inhumane and cruel.

In conclusion, I think the Book of Death is really a tool used in order to bring about the end of the criminals that threatens peace for everybody and could potentially hurt people (people getting framed, the killers killing future victims, exploiting people, etc). Since there is the chance of corrupt police forces not willing to indulge justice as they should and will let the mysteries remain and therefore the criminals free, the Book of Death is a mean to make sure the criminals and mysteries are gone. It’s a morally grey story where it may not be morally right, but it is not morally wrong either with the circumstances at hand. I think that’s what the Book of Death’s intention are, and why Shinigami thinks the way she thinks.