#After the church comes together and feeds everyone

[gxlden-angels]

One of these days I will write about the nuances of The Black Church and how it acted both as a force for good; providing food, shelter, and community to those in need from slavery onward, and as a force for destruction, actively treating drug addicts and LGBT people as diseases and cutting them off from that sanctuary. I should do it at my most powerful (Now during BHM) but alas.....

[silv3rswirls]

Fawn

warnings: 18+, age gap(reader is 18), coercion, corruption, praise, humiliation, dirty talk, hair pulling, gaslighting and manipulation, alcoholism, some religious themes/talk, virgin/innocent reader, dark thoughts/fantasies, very vague mentions of familial abuse, shamming, obsession, overall yoongi is a ✨creep✨

Note: sometimes I piss myself off because I've been dying over this fic for days and now I don't even like it much anymore- can I have nothing?😭idk might start writing more smut now??

You were a fawn in headlights when he first saw you in that clearing. Your back had been to him and at first, he had swore and scoffed at you because who hangs around in the woods disturbing his peace? Everyone in this town knew he lurked behind the tree line, drinking himself stupid and doing whatever fucked up activities they rumored him to. Yoongi never minded being the talk of the town. He’d been an outcast since his teenage years. Since he stopped going to church with his family like every other prim family populating the place. They took some fun teenage rebellion and ran with it- he liked to think himself not as messed up as people whispered he was. He’d always thought himself not to be until he met you.

He found you picking berries and flowers, anything that looked pretty out in the forest. You were kneeling trying to choose the perfect dandelion to add to your basket when he stormed over; pissed that someone was in his usual drink until he couldn’t move anymore spot. He liked it because it was a short walk from where he liked to stare at the Sunday churchgoers leaving and freak them out. He could recall seeing you before, always glued to your mother's side wherever you went.

But he stayed away and kept to himself like always. He couldn’t say he had many, if any, friends around here. He’d been on his own since graduating and his family moved away shortly after. He hadn’t been close to them at the time so being left alone was welcomed at first. As for everyone else; if someone didn’t fit in around here they were an outcast without much care and it seemed that no one cared for him.

“What are you doing?” He barked, scowling as he approached you. Bottles clinked in the bag he was loosely holding and his cigarette was at the end of its life. You stood up, stumbling back a bit in shock. Yoongi wasn’t a kind person, so you’d heard, and his appearance didn’t do anything to help. He was scowling, his hair was frazzled from rolling out of bed an hour or so ago. Dressed in darker colors, a sweater and thick coat layered in him. You wanted to laugh over how tired and grumpy he looked, but the nervous swirl in your stomach told you not to.

“I’m just picking flowers” You straightened up, knuckles white as you gripped the basket and your free hand smoothing down your skirt. 

“Well this is my spot” he rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to hear your stupid humming or see that ridiculous frilly dress you were in. Something about it pissed him off, he couldn’t place it exactly, but whatever it was would put a damper on his getting shitfaced in the woods plan for today. Besides, you had just come from Sunday service, he didn’t need any annoying pestering about drinking or sinning, or whatever he was sure you would pester him about.

Your eyes landed in his bag, before flicking up to him a bit wide. “Are you drinking out here?”

“So what if I am?”

He watches you look around, pressing your lips together for a moment. “Could I try?” His brows raised in surprise. interesting outcome of all of this he supposed? “It’s just, I’ve always wanted to.”

“I know your mom, she’s crazy, you know? Where is she?”

“Still at service, she helps plan the food drive” You smiled a bit proud, “It’s next week.”

Yoongi hummed. She was a nutjob, he’d lost track of how many times she’d harassed him in the past month alone. “So while she’s planning to feed the needy you want to drink?” You nodded and he looked around in disbelief. Was this a joke? Was someone going to jump out and condemn him for even entertaining this? 

“Here” he fished out a bottle and held it out to you. He watched you smile, a curious twinkle in your eyes as you carefully set your flowers down and took it. He waited for you to try, there wasn’t anything better to do anyway.

Your sudden shyness poked him the wrong way. He watched you bring it to your lips for a moment before lowering it with a new nervous expression. Second guessing your rebellion? “Come on” he urged, moving to grab your arm and pull you over to him. You stumbled, kicking over your flowers and stepping on them as he dragged you over.

“Hey-” you cringed, the bottle clinking against your teeth as Yoongi held you firm in place and forced the drink into your mouth. “I don’t like it” You managed to get out between the burn of liquor and sputtering as you tried to breathe. You broke away, yoongi dumping the rest of the bottle onto you; dripping it down your hair and face, and soaking your pink cardigan. “Why would you do that?” Your voice wobbled, and your eyes were wet as you looked at him.

“You said you wanted to try, stop being a baby about it.” He rolled his eyes. He watched the heat of embarrassment color your cheeks, big wet streaks stained your face and your hair clumped wet against your skin. “Get out of here now and don’t come back.” 

He watches you grab your things and scurry away, and in the distance, he can hear your mother scolding you from the parking lot. 

“Why does everyone hate Yoongi?”

The already tense air between you and your mother grew thicker on the ride home. She was angry over the smashed flowers you brought her for her centerpieces and even angrier over your now damp and smelly clothing. The fact that you had come running back to the car in tears, crying like a child over Yoongi.  

“Isn’t what he did to you answer enough sweetheart?” She sighed, “He’s never been right, even when he was your age.” She cringed, “Ever since his parents left he’s gotten worse. He’s a creep honey, stay away from him.”

“His parents left him?” You perked up slightly, basically ignoring everything else she said. “Why would they do that? That’s so sad.”

“If he was my child I’d leave him too” She scoffed, “don’t feel sorry for him, he’s everything I’ve ever warned you about. You don’t want to get tied up in all that mess right?” She asked. You didn’t answer.

The second time you ran into Yoongi was in the same stretch of woods. You had nervously ventured out there a few weeks after the last time, unsure if you wanted to run into him or not. Your mother was right about him being scary. You’d never interacted with anyone so harsh before, everyone your mother kept in your circle was kind and caring, just as you were. All women, no men really got close thanks to her. Other than being intrigued about being around him and all the things he did that everyone had drilled into your head were wrong; you felt a bit bad for the older man. You couldn’t imagine being all alone like he was or listening to all the awful things people said about him. He couldn’t be as evil as people wanted you to think, right?

Maybe he just needed a friend?

When he saw you again he smiled in welcoming. After spending a few weeks mulling over what happened and being publicly shouted at for ‘harassing her poor child’, Yoongi had decided he wanted to get closer to you. What better way to stick it to your mom than to mess around with you some more? You were naive enough not to catch on, so what was the harm?

You just talked for a few hours with him. He listened more than opened up. He listened to you talk about what you liked to do, where to find all the best flowers around here, about how you were nervous about the little recital the church was having next month for the Holidays, and how they wanted you to sing in it.

He watched you fiddle with the robbins decorating your hair. Watched you kick your legs back and forth off the rocks you were perched on beside him. Watched how your skirt scrunched and rode up just slightly every time you moved. 

He went home that night feeling a bit odd over the experience. You seemed genuinely glad to have someone new to talk to. He wasn’t sure how he felt, because you looked so cute sitting next to him chatting his ear off. 

He was fucked to put it lightly. You were everything he hated about the people in this town. Stupid and blindly following the herd…but with more of an innocence. All Yoongi knew was that he was down bad and frankly, a little pissed about it. How many whores had he had in the past and how many could he go out and find at this moment? Too many, maybe they were getting boring to him because right now all he could think about was you. He wanted to poke fun at and just piss everyone off at first, but now…now he just wanted corrupt you. Odd, he’d never felt the want to do it before to anyone, but something about you was sticking to him. How could he not with how cute and innocent you acted around him? Your fault really...hadn't your mother already warned you about men like him? He wanted to take you until the innocent air surrounding you was gone until all you could think about is him and how good he fucked your little virgin cunt. How cute you’d be under him. Covering your breasts and trying to hide away from his hungry eyes. Your cute little moans, moans you’d likely never made before. The feeling of you stretching around him for the first time. A little too much to handle, but you’re eager to please him. How wet you’d be, how it’d be such a challenge to bottom out, and how you’d squirm and try to resist the urge to be run over the edge as his hips pressed into yours. Your thighs twitch and try to close, too overwhelmed by the new sensations happening in your body. He’d leave you ruined; never to be the same again.

Yoongi blinked himself out of thought, he was sitting outside of his house having zoned out thinking about it all. 

Well, change of plans he supposed?

Two weeks later snow began to fall and hanging out with you had become routine. Admittedly, it wasn’t that bad. Other than an insatiable want to get you in his bed, he couldn’t say he hated every moment spent hanging around you. It was refreshing not to be by himself all day, he hadn’t had a real friend since early high school, and every day since had pretty much been spent alone. Stuck with a family that refused to speak to him until he admitted his sin and went back to church to grovel for forgiveness; he’d never do that even now. To his surprise you hardly talked about your family or religion; he had part expected you to try and drill it all into him. But you were pretty quiet and liked to laugh at all the ‘silly’ things he did as you liked to put it. You thought the way he slurred words when he was drunk was cute, but wouldn’t touch a drink from him after what happened, not unless he sweet-talked you enough. Sometimes it felt like he could sweet talk you into doing anything he wanted. Sometimes you’d let him put a shot glass to your lips and pour it down, wincing at the burn and getting watery-eyed. Yoongi wasn’t interested in bringing you anything gentle, he liked the hard stuff that could send him over the edge with a few drinks.

“Yoongi?” You asked one night. He was sitting beside you on the park bench, wrapped up in a plethora of jackets and hoodies trying to fight against the bitter air. Obviously, he couldn’t go to your place, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted you hanging around his yet. Truth be told he wasn’t sure if he could contain himself seeing you sitting in his bed just talking with that sweet tone of yours. Your eyes looking up at him, wide and fully focused on what he was doing or saying. You’d be wearing one of those silly frilled dresses you liked; he was sure of it. He’d thought about it so many times. How you’d let him get close and run a hand over your thigh, then over your stomach, to your chest. You’d let him kiss you, he knew you would. You liked doing what he said. You were so curious to partake in all the things he liked to do; all the things you weren’t supposed to do. One night he passed you a blunt without thinking much of it, you took it but nearly choked trying to smoke it for the first time. So you settled on letting him blow smoke in your face because he wanted to and you kept lying that you liked the smell of it.

“Yoongi?” You repeated, pulling him out of his daydream. He hummed, “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Go for it.” He’d lie if he didn’t want to answer, he lied to you a lot and you never seemed to pick up on it.

“Have you been in love before?”

“No.” He looked over at you again. You were playing with your hands in your lap, your nose was red from the cold and your hair was covered in snowflakes. He was still damp from earlier when you made him do a snow angel alongside you. “Why?”

“I don’t know “your face flushed, “I just wish I knew what it felt like. I’ve never been able to have a boyfriend” you explained, “Mom said I have to wait longer, I think she wants to find someone for me.”

“Well, that’s what good girls are supposed to do, right?” He asked, rolling his head back to look at the street light above and watching the snow flurries cluster around it. 

You were quiet for a moment, “I guess. I don’t know I’ve just been thinking alot lately, questioning some things.”

Yoongi nodded, he could remember when he started to as well. Hearing how everything in your circle talked about Yoongi didn’t sit right. Everyone should love everyone and get along, that is what you had thought everyone preached around you your whole life. Now they spoke about him like trash, ever since he poured the liquor on you. You hardly even cared much after the fact. It had been thrilling in your otherwise mundane life. Everyone thought you were staying clear of him, but you liked hanging out with him. Every evening when your mother left for work you ran to him. And every Sunday morning people still talked about what happened. How Yoongi shouldn’t be allowed to stay around here, how he was nasty and unholy, and how he'd do horrible things to you if you got close again. 

“You want a boyfriend?”

“My mom would kill me if she knew I did.”

Yoongi wet his lips and tugged your jacket until you looked at him. You were pouting, eyes cast down as you thought about it. “Well,” he started waiting for you to look up at him with your little doe eyes met his. “I could be your boyfriend” it rolled off his tongue, music to your ears. “No one will know, we’ll do all the things girlfriends and boyfriends do.” He waited for your reply, “unless you don’t like me?” He couldn’t remember the last time he spoke in such a tone: a soft and nearly whiny one. 

“No, I do!” You blurted out. “I want you to be my boyfriend, please Yoongi?”

He could listen to you say please all night.

“You’re not scared about breaking your mom's rules?” He egged in, “Not very good of you to lie.”

You scooted closer to him, grabbing his hand and pouting. “I-I don’t care about lying to her. Really! I’ve always wanted a boyfriend and I really like you, so why not?”

“Okay” he grinned, “I’ll be your boyfriend baby.” You grinned, genuinely excited. “We should make it official though, give me a kiss?”

You picked at the edges of your sleeves, “Y-yeah…but I’ve never…done that.”

Good, he thought. He wanted to be your first anything and everything. To teach you how to be a good girlfriend for him. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you. Just follow my lead.”

He grabbed your face, encouraging you to get even closer. Your legs pressed against his and he held your waist tight. He could see the shine of your strawberry lip gloss and the pink ribbon in your hair tickled his hand as he held your cheek. You were enthralled, gazing into his eyes like hearts were exploding behind you. He kissed you, trying to start slow and keep the cute boyfriend appearance up, but he was ready to get heated and messy with you. He did- kissed you harder, nibbled your lip, and pressed his tongue into your mouth. You were so meek under him, trying your best to keep up.

Your lipgloss was smeared- most of it left on Yoongi. You made it just-in-time before your mother got home. You scurried upstairs to change and pretend you’ve been in bed all night. You still felt breathless over the kisses. How he held you and how he asked you to be his girlfriend. You didn’t know how it was supposed to go, but you were sure he did it well. He had to. You hurried yourself under the covers. 

You had a boyfriend!

You kissed him!!

You smiled thinking about his hands holding you- how big they felt against your waist and his sting against your cheek. His lips were chapped and a bit cold against yours. He said he liked your lipgloss- the one you begged your mom to let you get just so you could wear it for him. 

“You’ve never touched yourself before?” You weren’t sure how the topic had been brought up, but Yoongi had just become far more interested in your video call after you let your secret slip out. You’d been lying around in bed talking to him for the past few hours. He was at home while you were stuck in bed for the night. Your mom was sick and hadn’t gone to work in a few days. You’d been missing Yoongi so he promised to call you.

“No…we’re not supposed to…my mom always tells me I shouldn’t it’s not pure and good.” You explained. Yoongi rolled his eyes, what a fanatic. 

“I used to think that, my family taught me the same things.” He started, “But I don’t agree. It’s normal, we’re all a little dirty sometimes, right bunny?”

You flushed, you liked it when he called you that. 

“I miss you, I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day. I wanna teach you more though, do you want to learn more next time?”

You nodded, slowly as you thought about his words. “You like when I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “Of course I do!”

Yoongi hummed, looking over the nightgown you were wearing. He liked kissing you well enough but he was starting to crave more. It’d been a while since he’d had sex, fantasizing about you while getting off was getting boring. He looked over your crossed legs, a bit upset it was long enough to cover your thighs- he liked them. It was, however, just snug enough to give him a subtle outline of your breasts, your nipples a bit hard grazing the fabric if you moved the right way. “Why’d you stop talking?” You pouted.

“You like my voice?” 

You nodded, “I really like it.”

“Wanna hear me call you pretty some more? How vain of you bunny. That’s a sin” he snickered, “does my voice turn you on?”

“I think so” You grew quieter, taking one headphone out and setting it aside to listen for your mother. 

“Is she still sleeping?”

“I think so.”

“You wanna do something for me, baby?” You nodded eagerly. “Touch yourself for me.” His tone was almost demanding, and needy as he shifted in his seat.

“But I’ve never…I’m not sure.”

“Come on,  try it for me?” Yoongi asked and very slowly you got off of your bed, leaving your phone propped against some pillows as instructed. Yoongi smirked, watching you look around your bedroom and to the door, double-checking the lock and listening for your mother. He was already feeling warm, mouth a bit dry as he looked you up and down. He couldn't help but to slip down his pants and tug at his cock in anticipation. The fact that you were so nervous, anxious that you’d get caught and reprimanded…that cute little nightgown you were wearing. “Just lift your nightgown” he wet his lips, watching you pick at the thin fabric and shyly lift it for him. “That’s it just a little, there you go” he encouraged, eyes glued to your panties. “Not so bad, right?” He smiled, and you let out a nervous, breathy giggle. “Turn around now” he watches you do as told, he hummed “bend over.” He watches you check your door again, a bit hesitant. “Don’t disappoint me now…good girl. Just…” Yoongi ogled over your ass, how the soft white fabric of your panties stretched over it, and how your legs pressed together now and again. “Just touch yourself for me” he finished. You did it for him, snaking a hand between your legs and clumsily playing with yourself. 

“Feels good?” He laughed at the little moans you let out now and again. “Don’t get shy, you’re so cute. Just show off for me baby.”

“You said you wanted to see it” Yoongi bit back a laugh. 

“I know, but…not here.” Your nose scrunched as you took another weary look around the alleyway. “Someone will see.”

“That’s what makes it fun” He grinned. He was feeling himself a little too much after a few drinks in his favorite bar. They wouldn’t ID him, and he knew they wouldn’t ID you. It was across town, too much of a trek for anyone who knew who you were to see. He’d gone through a few beers and some shots with you following him. You didn’t like the beer and refused a second shot, so he rolled his eyes and got you something smoother, fruitier. You were more content sipping on it, kicking your legs off the stool, and begging him to come to see you in the Holiday service on Sunday.

“You want me to come Sunday or not?”

“That’s not fair” you whined. Yoongi shrugged, leaning against the brick wall with his hips jutted out slightly. “Get on your knees for me bunny.” He watched you sink down, complaining when the slosh of rain and snow stained your stockings. “I’ll by you new ones” He assured, watching your brow knit ever so slightly as you fiddled with his belt; loosening it and going for his jeans button. He could feel his throat getting dry, ever since that little show he talked you through a few days ago he had been plagued with thoughts of you nonstop. You pulled his jeans down a bit, looking up at him for reassurance before shyly going for the boxers. He was already hard, it didn't take much from you nowadays. His fingers twitched, he wanted ot grab your hair and go to town, but he tried to take in your wide eyes, cautious little touches, and overall curiosity of it all.

“I don’t know if I should be doing this” Your voice was small, torn as you looked up at him again with a frown. “It feels wrong, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, it's normal. Lots of girls do it, don’t you want to make me feel good? I made you feel good the other night, it’s only fair.”

"I know you better than you think baby. I know those dirty little sides of you no one else does. You keep saying this is wrong and you shouldn't be doing it…but you’ve been saying for days how you want to please me. Now it’s time. Want me to help you?” He murmured. You nodded, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your stomach as you looked around one last time. He snaked a hand through your hair and guided you closer. His tip grazed your lips, pouty and slick from your lipgloss. Egairly you opened your mouth for him, trying to breathe through the new feeling and anxiety of having him in your mouth for the first time. 

Yoongi on the other hand felt like he could melt then and there. The feeling of your hot mouth against him sent tingles down his spine. “Just suck on it a little, grab the rest with your hand, and stroke it for me, baby.” your hand felt so small and cold against him, it made him shiver. He tugged your head a bit, he couldn’t help it. Your inexperience was too much for him. He loved the clumsiness, the little noise you made as you choked on him, how drool dripped down your chin and stained your blouse. “I know you can take it bunny, tell me if you can’t- fuck” he hissed, “you’re so good for me.”

He came in your mouth- he hadn't planned to but hadn’t been able to help it the moment you peered back up to him. Your face flushed, your eyes wide and teary, still looking at him in adoration. You pulled back, saying something about not liking the taste and wincing when more landed on your face. Yoongi was too immersed in trying to calm down to make some witty remark, he just took a moment to steady his breathing and look down at you. “Sorry,” he was quick to get his pants back up and get down to your level to help clean up. He sighed, watching you pick at your ruined stockings and skirt, “We’ll go to the mall tomorrow, and I’ll try to come to see you Sunday.”

He tried to seem indifferent to the way your face lit up, lunging to hug him. He smiled and took you home.

After taking you to the mall and replacing your clothes, Yoongi felt needier than usual for you. He was ready to take up, ready to steal that innocence away. 

“Stop pretending you don’t want to” Yoongi laughed. “Do you like it?” Yoongi grinned. You squirmed in his lap. He could tell you were trying not to like it, your brow scrunched slightly. When he grabbed your face and made you look at him he could see the concern clouded with lust in your eyes. “I know you like it, stop lying to yourself” He had taken you home for the first time, wasting little time before pulling you to the bedroom for a makeout. 

“I do” you whimper, “but…I’m not supposed to do stuff like this” You frowned, “Not until I get married and-”

“We’re not having sex though, we’re just playing a little, right?” He asked, grabbing your hips tighter, pressing his bulge against you. Your skirt rode up more, your knees pressed into the sofa as he guided you to grind against him. You were starting to get a little bold when you were with him, it was hard not to when he was constantly grabbing at you and saying all the right things to get you worked up. He was ready to take this to the next level- ready to fuck you.

“Come on, fuck yourself against me, baby, you’re already soaked and I’ve barely touched you.” He slipped back into his mindset fast. Your hips moved with his, he could feel the wet spot staining his jeans as you moaned and squeaked in surprise every time he pulled you hard against him. “Want me to fuck you? Seems like it, want me to ruin your insides?” He was into it, into how good your clothed cunt felt against his jeans and hard-on, how red your face was getting and the little beads of nervous sweat forming on your forehead. How your fingers clasped his shirt and nails pinched his skin, how into you seemed to be getting.

“I shouldn’t, but it feels so good” You cried, while Yoongi nearly came at your breathly little whines. 

“it's okay to be dirty like this, it makes you feel good, right? makes you want to cum like a good girl for me?” Yoongi went on, “Or we can stop, you can just pretend we didn’t do anything and go home, is that what you want?” “No” you cried, “It feels good. I wanna cum.” You shyly spoke, quickening your pace as he rutted against you.

“You gonna let me fuck you now?” He had been half serious when he said it, still content with sucking on and leaving hickeys on your shoulder. When you say yes? He felt like his brain short-circuited, he had you on your back in an instant; staring down at you like a hungry animal. Your shirt was unbuttoned, chest flushed and marked up from the groping. You were looking at him through lidded eyes, your legs still pressed together in anticipation as he moved in. 

“Fuck this is so wrong, isn’t it bunny?” Yoongi let out a shaky exhale, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, god you feel so good.” You were flushed under him, biting back moans and trying to take the pain of the first stretch like a good girl, like you knew he wanted you to. “I’m trying to go slow baby, but fuck…You’ll forgive me if I can’t, right?” He leaned closer to you, peppering kisses over your neck and sucking dark marks on your skin. “Please forgive me, baby, I’m gonna ruin you.” He murmured. He knew you’d never hate him, he knew you’d forgive him for anything he did to you.

taglist: @aft3rhrs

[asherlockstudy]

Some thoughts on the 40 years friendship anniversary Ear Biscuit

Regarding the moment when Rhett makes some fun at the shippers who ship them for moments such as the look they shared when they were kissing their girlfriends... I will say that by saying "As we have proven, we do not mind feeding into your theories", that's a double edged sword. Technically it is neither negation nor confirmation of anything - it is observation of something that can't be overlooked anymore like what they are doing with Wonderhole, while however refusing to take it seriously. It reminds me one of the last ambiguous jokes Rhett had cracked against the shippers, like a year ago or so, when he had said "PERHAPS YOU ARE RIGHT, OKAY" I don't remember it exactly, he had claimed the shipping conviction was so overwhelming that he was almost getting confused what the truth was and perhaps "we were right". Pity he doesn't clarify whether he means only the intentional scripted content or candid stuff that has at times slipped out of his control, like that eye contact. As an oldie, I remember how he has been always telling that story and it was that he opened his eyes to see that Link was already staring at him. He felt uncomfortable so he turned to the other side. He consistently finds it hilarious for years whereas Link always defends himself apologetically and shyly by saying "he was trying to check with Rhett if he was doing it right". So it wasn't exactly the "momentary glance of mutual hetero approval" they went for this time. But, if Rhett really finds it that hilarious, then it might as well have been an accidental eye contact and it taking large dimensions with the shippers may seem particularly amusing to him. However, it is him who brings it back again and again over the years, apparently the momentary glance has left such an impression (of amusement).

Rhett totally deflects when Link claims he had scolded him for how intimate he was getting with his girlfriends.

Marriage bathtub rum episode mentioned again

Link about the first days in college: "For me, going off to college, together, moving into that dorm room, I just remember the feeling of the first week and that we had each other at a point where we were completely on our own. And I remember being scared shitless in a lot of ways after that first week. It's like, wow, this is a different level of freedom. I feel like the net's gone, but we had each other and we had an identity to everyone else of having each other. "

It was sort of bittersweet to see that Link, who comes off as a pretty intense person, seems to have maintained a subdued attitude throughout most of his friendship with Rhett. Based on the things he said, this was sort of a survival mechanism to ensure he would remain Rhett's friend at all costs. He admitted that he wasn't all that crazy about the ministry and he was sort of following along, motivated by the consoling thought that since Rhett was taking him along, then that meant he was appreciating him for his skills, his abilties, his talent and who he was. Same thing with their career actually, Link basically admitted that he is not invested to the degree Rhett is (Rhett lowkey looked like he was given a small slap there) but it's about sticking to this promise of making it work out together. Even one of the first times Rhett confessed he considered giving up on the church during the great roadtrip across America and even though Link had been on a parallel similar journey, Link did not voice his own spiritual concerns and doubts but instead remained a silent "shoulder" for Rhett to “cry on” because he reasoned (maybe it felt safer this way) that surely Rhett was going through a phase and he would return to his traditional, religious self. And if Link was quick to abandon faith too and then Rhett regretted it then they would grew apart. But he was also fearing that if he remained religious and Rhett adhered to his choice to leave the church then they would also grow distant. So he chose to do all the listening, waiting for Rhett to take the final decision. (And then of course we know Link reached his limit with the plexi-glass kiss and suddently decided to turn their world upside down but this is not for this post ok). However, this just shows again and again how almost everything in Link's world revolves around Rhett, it's incredible how dedicated he is in his love for him. Link is a stunning guy, he was a good student, he could have done anything and be with anyone but he made this choice to devote himself to that guy completely and just went with it. It's just amazing. If we take into account what Link had said in his deconstruction, he had always had way more doubts, since an early age, but he was determined to act as pious as Rhett, if not more and even remain pious when Rhett was having his doubts out of his fierce persistence that this was ultimately the way to be accepted by Rhett.

Thank goodness they gave us a rough timeline of Link's "breakup" mail to Rhett and Rhett's delayed apology, because based on the dynamics we were observing in their content we could have been able to tell by ourselves! If the email was sent around the GMM 22 format or a little prior to it, it is not a surprise at all. This was the time a lot of the fans, even shippers, were speculating that something seemed off between them, that they weren’t real friends anymore, that they always seemed angry at each other. It was around that time that Link was being vocal about how Rhett didn’t open up about his emotions to him and at the time Rhett indeed looked very uncomfortable with it.

Let me tell you though, they were not telling the entire story. There was another thing that was happening at the time and they mentioned it once or twice in the Ear Biscuits of that period but then I don't remember if they ever mentioned it again. Along with the insane amount of work they were involved with at the time that would have made just about anyone neglect their personal relationships, it was around that time or a little earlier that they imposed rules on their friendship. They had said in EBs that their work and their friendship was taking up too much space from their families and other aspects of their lives so they freaking came up with rules to regulate their friendship. The examples they mentioned to explain this were VERY interesting: it was forbidden to communicate during vacation and if they both went to NC to their parents during the holidays they should not meet up. Even more insanely specifically, if they happened to cross ways in a supermarket aisle for example, the rule was to not acknowledge each other and just look the other way!!!!!!!!!!!! They also had rules for physical touches, Link characteristically said: "If you helped me with my belt, alarms went immediately off in my mind. Oh, why are you helping me put my belt? You don't usually help me put my belt!". Really, is it my fault to say that none of this shit is indicative of a platonic friendship? They never talked about it again. Perhaps they understood they shared too much. A few months or about a year after this was happening and shortly after the crazy work schedule, they made an EB announcing that they were now doing the exact opposite, meaning they would actively try to find more quality time for their friendship outside work. Now, we can tell that this choice was made probably after Link had sent the email to Rhett because clearly those rules he had initially agreed upon were tormenting him. My point is, their friendship wasn't threatened only as a natural consequence of their hectic work schedule but by their choices too.

I am sorry if I am the broken record but this is compatible with this recurring theme in the One Story, where Link is in trouble, Rhett saves him only to fall in trouble even harder. In the Digging a Hole video, Rhett says how he thought "Link was losing control in his enjoyment of the hole digging" that he had to step up. Rhett started this as a controlled, secret situationship and when Link started getting way too immersed in it, Rhett shat himself, fearing Link was risking their careers, their families, everything they had built. So they came up with rules and filled their time with work, work, work to control what was happening between them. Link tried but in the process he felt that besides everything they were trying to control, they were also losing their foundations, their original pure friendship. So, for such a passionate friend (or a man insanely in love, if you will) to feel that he and his lifelong best friend had turned into strangers, into working robots to strip all the emotions from their relationship, he thought "you know, if we are not even gonna be friends like we always were, I don't want any of this at all". Once again, I am amazed at the genuiness of his sentiment. He has fame, he has a lot of money, we know he is frugal and yet he was willing to give it all up, to start from scratch, to reinvent himself on his own, in order to not suffer through a possible slow alienation with Rhett. (I mean he still was ready to be swayed by Rhett with the bare minimum though lol)

To Rhett's credit, like they said, even if he's not one for words, he was at his door the next day like "what was that shit about alienation you're talking about?!". History has shown after all that no matter how bad he is with words, how emotionally constipated, how work obsessed, how supportive of the idea to keep this a secret situationship, how fearful their relationship will likely destroy their careers and a lot of their bonds with other people, how vulnerable to people's opinions, so far time tells he is choosing Link over everything else, even at the prospect of disaster. And channeling all this anxiety and concern but also the choice he has made to his art has become his new passion, because this is how his mind works, this is how he expresses himself, his feelings, his love.

Rhett reread the email during the quarantine which also makes total sense! We have all discussed Rhett's notorious neediness at the time of the pandemic. I like to say he was climbing the walls at the time because he really did. Even in their zoom GMMs, he was protesting to Link because they were not meeting, he was like "I am healthy, you are healthy, LET'S MEET I BEG YOU I AM LOSING MY MIND PLEASE". This was an average GMM and EB at the time, remember? I believe this sudden unexpected distance was what really sealed the deal for Rhett, he thought things over and over. It's true, he did take Link for granted because Link was always by his side, he never missed him. But this time, Link had devoted himself to Christy who was coping very badly with the Coronavirus panic and he wasn't meeting with him, he had become aloof and Rhett was getting increasingly emotionally and physically frustrated and at this point he probably understood what it feels to not have Link for granted or what it felt for Link to feel emotionally neglected in their relationship.

Link was a little... happy when Rhett admitted their relationships to girls were shallow. He's laughing nervously for almost 20 seconds.. but it is adorable. I love this laugh of his, the heheHEheHEheheHEHEhehe, reminds me of the "I hit you in the funny bone" moment in GMM :)))

I did not intend this to get that long...

[sybillum]

the Vision of Eulogius the Venerable

russian icon, 1565-1590

the information about the plot of this icon comes from the Hermitage Paterikon.* the earliest example of this icon comes from the cathedral of the Nativity of the Theotokos of the Ferapontov Monastery (1502).

it is said, that the holy fool Eulogius, during the Easter Liturgy, had a vision of the angels singing the liturgy together with the monks, and after it ended - brought gifts to the monks depending on their zeal. The angels took golden, silver and copper coins from the invisible baskets, prosphoras and the pieces of prosphoras, some of the brothers are anointed from the golden cup, others were incensed from the golden censer, others left without any gifts, and some left their gifts in the church and left emptyhanded. the story in the Paterikon explains the meaning of the vision - the angels symbolically unveil the spiritual benefits of various monastic feats and the corresponding spiritual gifts. gold is given to those who keep vigil on Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, and on all of the God’s feasts from night to morning; silver is gifted to those who serve from midnight to the morning; the copper coins belong to those who sing and recite the psalms; prosphoras belong to those who are diligent in reading books; bits of prosphoras - to the novices; the anointed ones are the obedient ones; the incensed are the ones who ‘only come to their senses in the church’; and the ones who abandon their gifts and leave are the ones who dabble into the ‘hellenic books and teachings’ and therefore lose the spiritual benefits obtained in the church.

the main action of the icon is happening inside of a great multi-domed church, that is located in the abode, what is indicated by the two monastic belfries. everyone gathered is blessed by the icon of the Theotokos ‘the Sign’ in the central dome of the church. on the altar under the dome there is a big liturgical cup with two holy monastic figures bowing over it. the Eulogius himself is depicted in the bottom left corner of the icon. he holds a scroll which says: ‘do not boast nor speak vainly in your pride, and may no grandeur or eloquence go out of you’. the other instructions are written on the scrolls of the angels standing in the centre, right under the icon of the Theotokos: ‘carry the crosses of each other and thus fulfil the commandment of Christ’ and ‘the word of Christ may live in you graciously in all the wisdom of your hearts’. the bottom right corner shows the expulsion of the negligent monks. 

the icon also shows the blessing of the breads: the two holy elders bowing to the cups with prosphoras is showing this. this is a ritual that remembers the blessing of the five breads and feeding five thousand people - predicting the Sacrament of the Eucharist. 

the symbolic meaning of the cup is the image of the Church, who fills the faithful with the spiritual bread, is stressed out by the comparison with the icon of the Theotokos ‘the Sign’, on whose chest the Bread of life is depicted - Child Jesus. 

*paterikon is a genre of Byzantine religious literature, which contained mostly compilations of lives of saints, their sayings, deeds of martyrs, hierarchs, tales about them etc. 

sources:

Tretyakov Gallery

Orthodox Encyclopaedia

[merakiui]

hi mera!! this is my first ask but i hope it doesn’t get eaten, but before that i just want to say i enjoy your writing a lot, especially your azul writings???? and azul thought 2 was so good, that one got me on a tight octopus grip. i look forward to the sequel

i want to share this idea that got stuck in my head for days: nun!reader running an orphanage but it’s low on funds until one day rich businessman!azul makes a visits and donate a large sum of money

at first it seemed like azul did it out of generosity from the bottom of his heart and reader is incredibly grateful and indebted to him…but as it turns out he has other intentions

he’s deeply inlove with nun!reader but she’s a nun!! she can’t return his feelings sadly but azul finds a way… as he keeps donating more money to the orphanage and nun!reader has to make it up to him…with her body perhaps? like imagine they’re doing it an empty church after the kids of the orphanage go to bed

also it’s optional but imagine adding rollo to this scenario as the priest!!!

AAAAAAAAA YES YES OTL this is such a yummy concept omg!!!

You can't thank him enough! Oh, you're so grateful for his generous donation and you go on and on about how exciting this is. With these funds, you can buy more workbooks for the kids, replace the chalkboard, buy better ingredients for meals, replace some of the old bed frames, and more! Azul's a little annoyed with all of your never-ending prattling. Sure, it feeds his ego to see you bow your head over and over in thanks. But you could put your mouth to better use instead of just verbally expressing your thanks. >:( he's impatient and horny, but he smiles politely and tells you it's not a big deal. He loves to help those in need! Please come to him should you ever need any help.

You insist that he must come with you to meet the kids. He's a little unsure at first, but you're just so bright and bubbly and he decides he might as well accept your offer, if only to build rapport. Come the next day, he's knocking on the door to the little classroom and poking his head inside. The kids all adore him. They think Mr. Azul is the nicest, coolest guy they've ever met! They prepared drawings and wrote little thank you letters to express their gratitude, and he feels so fluffy inside when he notices how the kids flock to you when you tell them to give him some space. He watches the way you interact with them, so soft and sweet and motherly. It's not fair that you're a nun sworn to celibacy. What he wouldn't give to make you a mother...

Azul didn't think he'd become so fond of you so quickly, but every day spent with you is a blessing. You're just so perfect. Even the kids think so when he asks them about you. "What's Miss (Name) like?" he'll ask and the kids all say such nice things about you. Some of the girls giggle and gossip amongst themselves, eagerly theorizing if Mr. Azul is interested in you. It doesn't help that everyone calls you Mama in the orphanage; it really tests Azul's patience and restraint when the kids come running up to you and tugging on your habit to get you to play or to drag you to Azul because they found him shopping in town. Some of them try to pair the two of you together, setting up not-so-subtle dates under large trees in the courtyard. You find it charming and amusing; Azul thinks it would make for a nice reality.

But then his current reality, which is just as good (for now), is uprooted when Father Rollo comes to visit. Though he looks frigid and stern, he is very gentle when speaking to the kids. He reserves smiles for you and them, or so Azul has learned from observations. When he met Azul, he hesitated to shake his hand, looking at him as if he was a pest, before welcoming him to the orphanage and thanking him for his donation. Azul already dislikes Rollo. Most of all, he's jealous that the kids talk about you and Rollo as if you're a match made in heaven. What's so good about that father anyway! He looks as if he's crawled out of the grave, what with his dark circles and gloomy disposition. Azul, on the other hand, is handsome and put together and eloquent. So why do you seem to look at him as if he's the love of your life? It should be Azul you love, not Rollo! Azul would give you the entire world if you asked. He loves you! He's infatuated!

Maybe he'll just have to prove it to you before the eyes of the god you have so much faith in. :)

[cbk1000]

Anyway, here's some more of the sequel to the vet fic, because the world is hard and mean, and one overly long fic about two gays driving around the countryside helping sick animals wasn't enough:

The wedding was at Ripley Castle near Harrogate, and featured a cousin with whom Arthur was just close enough not to blow off the ceremony; though he wouldn’t have minded simply popping in for the vows, and the requisite after-vow pleasantries. But he had seen the opportunity to pry Merlin away for a holiday, on an estate large enough to avoid most of his family; and so Saturday they had put their rucksacks, their suits, and themselves, into the car, and were now going at a decent clip down the B6265, though Merlin thought it was codgerly.

“Does Gaius know to put the wet food on top of the dry food for Tessa, and not to mix it all together?”

“Yes, you mentioned it in the instructions we left.”

“And that Mixer can only go into the outdoor pens with George? And if he can’t find Cian, to check under the sofa?”

“Arthur, we are not leaving our infant child for the first time whilst we take our first holiday since we became new dads, we are leaving our four adult cats to be checked in on by a veterinarian who’s been practising about as long as either of us has been alive. I think he can handle feeding a finicky arshole.”

“I’m not sure if I remembered to mention George’s eye drops, though. Will you text Gaius?”

“You wrote six fucking pages on how to care for four cats for two days. You mentioned it.”

“Just text him, you knob.”

“Uncle Gaius,” Merlin sounded out obnoxiously as he typed. “Arthur thinks you are a helpless, blind old useless bat, and would like to reiterate how to feed a cat and administer eye drops.”

Arthur swiped blindly at his head with one hand, whilst the other he left planted on the wheel. “Should I text Morgana too, and have her check in on Gaius checking in on the cats?”

“Piss off.”

“Too bad she was too sick to come; I’d love to see Gwaine mixing it up with your relatives. Nobody would even notice you’re gay if Morgana had brought him.”

“Yes, I’m sure that would have gone well for everyone.”

Then Merlin changed the radio station, and they had a friendly dust-up, most of the remaining drive to Ripley, over the other’s objectively inferior taste in music; so that when they pulled up at The Boar’s Head where they would be staying, Arthur had almost forgot he was inevitably to see his father. Now the courtyard full of Pendragons brought it surging down on him, and he felt suddenly as overwhelmed as if they had converged on instead of glancingly glanced at the car. His whole body tightened; and the dread clash was in his chest, that brutal striving for life which in a fit man at an elevation the same as his native seems to herald the onset of death. He felt in the car in the middle of the day with no threat present but the threat of unpleasantness that he was carrying his doom. It was in his chest, where his breath had shortened, and quickened; all those impulses of the lizard brain which kept the cave dweller from being no more than some leftovers in his loincloth now were telling him that he would need to flee some pensioners in some church wear. His father was nowhere amongst them; but the possibility of him, the infinite possibility of if, was all round the car and beyond the car, where anything might happen to his heart.

And then Merlin said in the same voice he used with the animals, “Tell me five things you can see right now.”

“The steering wheel. My hand on the steering wheel. The door handle. The chip in the windshield. Your knee.”

“Five things you can feel?”

“The steering wheel under my hand. The seat under my legs. The air from the vents. The seat against my back. The steering wheel under my hand.”

“Five things you can hear?”

“Your breathing, your abysmal taste in music, the car engine, faint music outside the car, talking outside the car.”

“Four things you can see?”

And he walked him through the exercise like that, till they had got down to one item for each, and Arthur’s breathing was calmer. He flexed his stiff fingers on the steering wheel.

“It’ll be ok, Arthur. And if it’s not, I’ll headbutt some people, and we’ll leave.”

“Ok.” Arthur wiped his palms on his jeans.

Then they were out of the car, and Merlin said to the few friendly guests who found their arrival more interesting than their breakfast, “Hey; nice to meet you. Merlin. Really sorry, we’ll be down in a few minutes, yeah, I just need the loo really badly. Down from Emberford, yeah,” ushering Arthur through the crowd and into the Inn as deftly as he had ever done anything requiring motor skills. He had got the suits and the rucksacks out of the backseat, and kept himself now with their luggage between Arthur and any intrusives, using his dimples to plough a kind of furrow through to reception, so that everyone in his wake felt that they had been charmed instead of slighted. 

In their room he threw down the suits and bags on the bed, and said, “It’s nice. Not very castle-y, though. Do you want me to make you some tea?”

“No. We should probably go back down and mingle for a bit before we need to change.”

“Do you want me to blow you?”

“That’s--” Arthur paused. He did not know what part of ‘go down and mingle’ Merlin had confused for a sex act; but now that he had Arthur’s brain had got just as muddled. He separated out, after a moment, what he wanted to say, from what his penis wanted him to say. “What part of ‘I probably shouldn’t pause long enough for tea’ suggested to you that I thought we had time for sex before going back down to visit with the other wedding guests?”

[duckprintspress]

Happy August Short Story Release Day!

Whether you’re craving fluff or feels, laughs or tears, our August general imprint short stories have got something for you!

Title: Count the Number of Seeds Series: Sunrise Over the Black Forest Author: Lyn Weaver

This installment of the Sunrise Over the Black Forest ‘verse, formerly Patreon-exclusive, is now finally available to our general readership!

M/M, Gothic Fantasy with Technology, Vampire grapples with the Proper Care and Handling of the human he’s definitely not pining for

The third story written in the Sunrise Over the Black Forest ‘verse, occurring second chronologically, in this tale of the vampire Sevan and the human priest Kel, Sevan suddenly realizes that humans need to eat…and he has no idea where Kel is getting food from.

If Kel starves, Sevan won’t have anyone to feed from, and that’s definitely the only reason he cares enough to pluck some apples from his orchard and bring them to Kel’s church. 

-

Title: if it’s meant to be Series: Welcome to PHU Author: Tris Lawrence

Author Tris Lawrence brings us this short, fluffy alternate universe PHU piece exploring what could have happened if Mac and Pawel had met under different circumstances.

F/M Pre-relationship, Canon Divergent Alternate Universe, A “What If They Met Differently” Story, Meet Cute

After acting as the harbinger of the Emergence when she emerged during the Olympics, Kenzie Davis buried her old identity as a gymnast, changed her name, and found a new home and new family in the circus. 

Under the identity “Mac,” she’s managed to hide herself very well, using her Talent to aid her act. Her high-risk acrobatics are rendered safe by her timely teleportations…until a boy in the audience doesn’t realize it’s an act, and tries to “help” her with some magic of his own.

-

Title: Chinaski’s Dirty Work Series: Nasti Chinaski Author: J. D. Harlock

The first story in an all-new series from imaginative author J. D. Harlock!

Magic + the Wild West, Humor and Mischief, So Much Drinking

Chinaski might be fangirling a bit when her plan to capture noted criminal Shootin’ Shiloh comes to a head in Pico’s tavern. Now, if only she can collect her pay-day without everything going wrong…

Or: the one where a lesbian bounty hunter debates whether she should seduce the mark before, during, or after the hunt.

-

Title: Chrysopoeia Author: Zel Howland

Author Zel Howland, a contributor to our upcoming anthology Aether Beyond the Binary, publishes their first stand-alone story with Duck Prints Press!

Sort-of-One-Sided F/F (It’s Complicatedtm), Trapped Together, Everyone Needs to Use Their Words, Victorian Alchemy and Witchcraft

After Faith is found guilty of witchcraft, she’s subjected to the traditional punishment for her supposed crime: imprisonment for a month in a cave that may or may not hide a gateway to Hell in its unexplored depths.

But Faith isn’t a witch. She’s an alchemist. And while she could use alchemy to survive her imprisonment…if she’s alive when the townspeople return, she’ll be executed, because obviously only a witch could survive a month stoned-in with no food or water.

Even worse, Faith is increasingly sure that she’s not alone in this cave…

-

These, any many other great stories, are for sale on our webpage! Come read with us!

(Or, support us on Patreon, and claim our stories for free as a reward for your backing!)

[v3nusxsky]

going on a little vacation with emily. reader and em are sitting by a lake where there’s a bunch of wildflowers, so r picks some up near them and braids the flowers into emily’s hair while em reads to her<3 - 🐦

Agent Down

*Authors notes~ this is such a cute little Drabble omg. I'm sorry I had to make it angsty*

Trigger warnings~ mentions of death funeral

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

They say when you find the one, you just know. And with her I did. I walked into the bullpen and she immediately stole my attention, everyone and everything became background noise. There was only her in my universe and that was okay by me, it was if she hung the sun, stars and moon herself. And that was the first time I ever say SSA Emily Prentiss.

You'll hear from her chosen family soon enough but as her wife I want to take this opportunity to show you just what the wonderful woman she is. My wife is brilliant and beautiful and a bit of a sarcastic asshole sometimes but that's why we love her. Emily could light the room up just with her smile. But one of my favourite memories were the only time the BAU managed to secure some time off.

On our honeymoon we landed up in this beautiful cottage that stood in the most beautiful forest. A lake running close by, truly my wife thought of everything. Often we'd sit by the lake, picnic food and a lovely book, surrounded by nature. Something about environment soothed my wife and it was one of the times I've seen a true smile on her face.

One blissful afternoon I noticed some of the most beautiful little flowers blooming near by, so after collecting them I rejoined my wife as she laid her head in my lap reading out loud. You couldn't help but run your fingers delicately through her raven curls. Pulling the strands into a beautiful braid as you both basked in the newly wed glow. You began to wove those beautiful flowers into her braid before dropping a kiss to her head, "I love you Prentiss" you mumbled against her hair only to be met with a reply, "and I you Mrs Prentiss."

You couldn't help your hands shaking and the tears falling down your cheeks at the memories of her. "Her family who are here today, four of which carried her coffin in this church today, will never truly know how much they mean to my wife, and to me. You guys are the family we both wish we had, and I know Emily would want me to tell you all these individual things, Reid, you're far too precious for this earth, Morgan, go flirt with some Halloween honey. Rossi, papa you showed me what love truly is and how many wives is it again?" Which earned a small chuckle, "Hotch, you lead the family with the bravest heart look after my girl Hotch, she'll say she's fine don't let her do something dumb." "JJ, my best friend please don't let Henry and Michael forget about Aunty Em, and that bubba you're pregnant with, yes I know." "Garcia, pg, you are uniquely beautiful and talented in your own right, never lose that spark, and finally to my daring wife Y/n, I love you more than words can say and i hope you know I want you to live and love and carry on, I'll always be with you Angel."

You're own sobs broke off your words with JJ and Rossi having to come and hold you up. "My dearest Emi, I love you so much come back to me please. Come back to the woods with the flowers, they bed where we tangled our limbs in a tickle fight, to Sergio and stop me feeding him the food he's not meant to have, please Emily, I don't know how I can carry on without you."

The team each game up to share a few words and soon enough the guests left and you sat by your wife's plot. The empty bottle of pills lay in the dirt as you laid yourself down, "Gnight em, I'm coming" you whimpered as your heart packed up and life left your body. You'd always be together in this life and the next.

Word count~ 726

[ramblesanddragons]

Encanto Dracula AU

I’ve had this idea for awhile and I kept thinking I would get to it. I just think I have the steam for it. Maybe I will later but here’s bullet points for now.

Dramatis personae:

Agustín as Jonathan

Julieta as Mina

Pepa as Lucy

Félix as Arthur

Bruno as Van Helsing

@madrigaljail ‘s OC Jose as Seward

Probably Osvaldo as Quincy

Dracula and the Weird Sisters are just themselves but in Brazil.

-Agustín is a lawyer who wants to take on one last job outside of the Encanto before moving there permanently. Probably to prove himself or something like that. The job is deep in the Brazilian jungle and he’s helping a man move to Bogotá. He figures all the locals are spooked he’s headed to this out of the way hacienda deep in the jungle.

-Meanwhile Pepa gets three proposals. Julieta can’t wait for her betrothed to get back.

-Agustín figures out he’s in a Dracula AU but is stuck. The place is crawling with alligators or anacondas at Dracula’s command.

-Drac takes a snack of Agustín. Drac invited him there because he knows where the Encnato is and being filled with his blood will get him past the miracle.

-We ponder about Gus’ fate while the girls are getting excited for a wedding day. Sure a group of travelers show up and say they felt like they were being watched the whole time but it’s fine.

-Julieta gets word that Gus is alive and runs off to get him. (Getting in and out of the valley is a little easier for things to work here.)

-Meanwhile Pepa gets sick.

-“Hey where’s Bruno?” Well he started having visions of something he didn’t understand attacking home. He left 5 ish years ago to try and study what it could be. He comes home with a cool hat, trench coat, blood transfusion supplies, and a vampire hunting degree.

-Alma is in the background constantly annoyed by her wayward children.

-Julieta and Gus marry. Pepa almost bites it but Julieta’s gift saves her. Meanwhile an un-named other person is killed by Dracula because all the travel made him hungry.

-The suitor squad with Bruno go through the whole seeing a vampire lady drink kids and all that jazz.

-Bruno, Julieta, and a still alive but forever changed Pepa put everything together.

-Dracula force feeds Julieta his blood and that whole angst happens.

-Jose:“Why can’t we find him? It’s like he’s hiding in the walls somewhere?”

Bruno: “Now that’s just silly.”

-Eventually Dracula says screw it and goes after Alma. Big confrontation near the church. Julieta gives herself to Drac and they make out but Dracula screams in pain. Julieta had some of the communion bread which she bakes in her mouth.(Stealing this end from a play version I saw of Dracula) Doesn’t hurt her because of the whole healing thing.

-Dracula, now weakened, gets stabbed by Gus.

-The Madrigals are forever changed by this. Julieta can see in the dark but can still cook with garlic thankfully. Gus is still a klutz but it takes a lot more to hurt him. Pepa struggles under her own sunshine but Félix gladly holds an umbrella for her want ever the weather. Mirabel is born and probably has some vampire elements but she’s alive and then canon probably happens with everyone in Addams family aesthetics. And Bruno doesn’t leave again he’s just figured out how to lie to his mother. I think. The ending is something I’ve struggle to plot out. In theory, the other vampires are running amok, and that could be a thing in the future idk. Jose and Bruno get together. It’s a happy-ish ending.

[magravenwrites]

The Ghosts of Christmas' Past

Finan x Eadith

(GIF not mine)

Summary: After a year of plague, hard fighting and heartbreak, Uhtred and his men are ready to celebrate Yule with Coccham's newest residents; Aethelstan and Eadith. While the rest of the party seem to enjoy the festivities, Finan is disturbed at how little joy the season brings to Eadith. After following her outside, they talk of what it is to really have a home and a family.

Requested: Yes

A/N: This was posted on ao3 a while ago but thought it was about time I posted it here too. Set after season 4 but before season 5.

Thanks to @axe-does-writing for beta-reading this for me 💕

Enjoy!

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The fire in the hearth cast a golden glow across the hall, its warmth could be felt throughout the room.  

Finan relaxed back into his chair, letting the heat and contentment settle in his bones.  It was nice to experience some peace for once.  Particularly after their year of running up and down the country, losing loved one's, fighting in battles and evading the dreaded sickness.

Now, it was a time for peace, before Uhtred undoubtedly dragged them all into his mess once more.

He would take what he could while he had the chance.

It was nice for everyone to be together, laughing, drinking and feasting with their families.  

While Uhtred was Pagan, he had still agreed to host a feast for Christmas.  No doubt persuaded by Hild, who may or may not have threatened him had he not agreed to host the celebrations.  

Uhtred had argued he would host the feast to celebrate Yule, rather than the Christian celebrations, but they all knew he did not need an excuse to hold a feast.

Finan gazed around the room, taking in the sound of laughter from the far side of the table where Sihtric sat with his wife, entertaining their many children.

Osferth had not long arrived after praying in the makeshift church with Hild.  He now sat next to Sihtric, throwing the occasional comment here and there while eating his fill of the feast.

Aethelstan was sitting next to Finan; it would be the boy's first Yule with them and Finan was intent on making it a good one.  

He knew what it was like to grow up too quickly, to have so much responsibility forced on his young shoulders.  He'd be damned if he didn't let Aethelstan enjoy just one Yule as a child should.  

With fun.  With a family.

It was heartwarming to see the young boy sat at the table with a smile on his face, laughing at the stories Sihtric was telling, and eating his fill of the feast.  He was slowly but surely coming out of his shell.

"Once you've finished your plate, you can go and listen to Sihtric's stories with the other children."  He told him gently.  "-and if you have a second helpin' of vegetables then I'll tell ya how to beat Young Sihtric in your next sparring match."  He winked, chucking when the young boy immediately reached to spoon more of the vegetables onto his plate.

Osferth sent him a shrewd look from across the table "Are you not above bribing children Finan?"  He teased.

"It's not bribin' -  more… gentle persuasion.  Besides, the boy needs feeding up if he's to be a big, strong, warrior one day."  He argued lightly, ruffling Aethelstan's hair.

Finan's eyes moved past Osferth's shoulder, and settled on the latest edition to their ragtag group - Eadith, where she was sat warming herself in front of the fire.

If it wasn't for her bravery, they would all be dead.  At first she had intended to go to Frankia, she had some family there.  Finan was only glad when she had decided to return to Coocham with them instead.

He had not trusted her at first, but over the months he spent in her company he had grown to admire her.  More than admire her, if truth be told.

She was sat by the fire, her gaze lost in the dancing flames.  Finans breath hitched at her beauty.  The golden glow of the flames shone off her hair and dress, making her look as though she were an angel.  A fallen angel just for him.

Eadith gracefully rose from her seat, making her way for the door and exiting without even looking back at them once.  She hadn't even taken her cloak with her.

Finans eyebrows furrowed in concern at her sudden exit.  She had been relatively quiet all evening, but he thought that she was just enjoying the peace of the festivities.  

He felt a sharp boot kick him from under the table, looking away from the door, he turned to glare at the offender.  

He saw Baby Monk giving him a pointed look, inclining his head toward the door.

"Go after her, you know you want to.  I'll keep an eye on the boy."  He said.

After debating it a while in his head, he nodded in agreement, standing from the table to rush after her.  

"Bless ya Baby Monk".

He only made it to the end of the table before turning on his heel back to Aethelstan's side. 

"Make sure he finishes his plate."  He warned, pointing a threatening finger between Osferth and the boy.

Osferth only rolled his eyes at his antics.

"I will, now stop stalling and go!"

Finally satisfied, Finan swiftly marched to the door, grabbing his cloak before heading outside.

Letting the door fall closed behind him, Finan was surprised to see it was still snowing outside.  His breath instantly clouded in front of his face.  

He spotted Eadith not too far away, sat on the bottom step to the hall, staring up at the snow.  Her arms were wrapped around herself, shielding her from the cold.

He usually hated the cold.  He had spent too many winters freezing his arse off at sea to hold any love of it now.  

But he had to admit, there was a beauty and a stillness that snow brought like nothing else could.  Or perhaps that was just the effect Eadith had on him.

As he descended the steps, getting closer to her, he noticed how the snowflakes settled on her hair and eyelashes, making her look even more beautiful.

"May I join you?"  He asked as he stood a step behind her, not wanting to intrude.

Eadith looked over her shoulder at him, giving a small nod of her head with a gentle smile.

Finan gave a smile in return, glad she hadn't turned him away. He settled himself on the step next to her with a groan, making sure his cloak was securely around him to fight off the chill air.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a little while. Neither one of them wanted to break the peace.

Finan felt like a fool.  He came out here to woo her.  Now he couldn't think if a single thing to say.  

He blew warm air into his hands, rubbing them together to keep them warm, in an attempt to stop fidgeting from nerves.

"Are you alright?" He asked, cringing internally at how awkward he sounded.

"I mean - you left the hall in a hurry - I just wanted to make sure you were alright?"  He stumbled, by way of an explanation.

He wanted to kick himself. He prided himself on being able to be confident in any situation, particularly when it came to charming the ladies. So why was he now struggling to string two sentences together, as if he were a boy with his first crush?

Eadith, either oblivious to his awkwardness or choosing to ignore it, simply smiled lightly, taking a deep breath of the night air.

"I just needed some air," She replied quietly.  

"You don't have ta hide things from me. There is something bothering you.  If you feel ya need to talk, then you can always come ta me. If you want to. You're safe here."

"I fear that is part of the problem. I find that being here… I have never known such security before.  Such comfort. Such peace. I am unused to not having to look over my shoulder, or not being seen as an object to use. It can be so…" She vaguely waved her hands in front of her, as if wanting to grasp the right word from the air.

"Overwhelming." Finan finished for her.

"Exactly."  She gave him a puzzled expression, surprised he had managed to sum up how she was feeling so simply.

"I have never spent a Christmas amongst people I feel at home with. It is a foreign feeling.  I always had my brother by my side, but we were always jumping from one court to another, trying to redeem our family name. It was never a happy time for us, and now he is not here either."  Her arms tightened around herself, though whether it was for warmth or to comfort herself, Finan couldn't tell. He guessed it was probably a little of both.

He remained silent, letting her work through her thoughts and feelings, before he comforted her.  He knew the importance of needing to process things first.

"I know he betrayed us. But I still miss him.  He was the only family I had left." She sighed, holding back tears.

He shuffled closer to her, getting so close that their knees were lightly brushing together. He reached over, taking her hand in his.

Her hand felt like ice in his own, she had goosebumps raised on her arms, and he only just noticed how her teeth were beginning to chatter.

"Good God woman, you're freezing!" He exclaimed, immediately moving to cover her with his cloak.  Shuffling closer still so they could share its warmth.

"I am fine," She protested lightly, giggling over his fussing.

"Don't be so stubborn, you'll catch your death in the cold like this." He enclosed his hands around her own, rubbing them to instill some warmth, trying to ignore the way just holding her hand made his palms tingle and his head spin.

"Thank you." She relented, sighing at the warmth he provided.  

Unconsciously, she leant closer toward him, leaning on his shoulder.  

Finan smiled softly at the weight of her pressed to his side, glad she was comfortable enough with him to be so close.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, each enjoying the other's presence, but as the minutes passed by, Finan felt he had to broach the subject of their conversation once more.

"I understand, y'know - about not having a family or a home ta call your own. Probably better than most."  He started.

"Of course, you have been away from your homeland for so long.  You must miss it dearly."

Finan huffed a laugh at that.  If only it were so simple.

"Not quite.  You may not know this… but I first met Uhtred on a slave ship."  He told her looking her in the eye, watching the suprise cross her face.

"I am so sorry, I did not know…"

He shook his head, not wanting her sympathy. He swallowed thickly, attempting to hold back the tumultuous array of emotions that were threatening to burst from him. It was important she heard this.

"I was a foolish young man and I made mistakes.  I spent three Winters pulling at the oar in payment for those mistakes.  

My life in Ireland - it was not my own life. Everything was planned out for me, and I wanted to escape.  It has been a long time since I have considered Ireland my home."  He admitted.

Eadith listened in silence, her heart heavy knowing he had been through such torments.

"It took me time to adjust, but my home is now here."  Finan continued, looking over their shoulders at the doors to the hall with a fondness in his eyes.

"Home is not always a place, Eadith, it is the people that make it so. Uhtred, Sihtric, Osferth, and the children…  As long as I am with them, I know I am home.  It is why I would follow them anywhere.  It is my wish that one day, you will come to see this - us - as your new home too."  He turned back to face her, their eyes meeting.

"I think I am already beginning to see it as one."  She whispered, a small smile pulling at her lips.

Her eyes darted down to his lips before darting back to meet his gaze once more.

A smile grew on Finans own features, happy to hear the news.  He leaned in closer to her, his smile turning into a smirk as a thought crossed his mind.

"You know, back in Ireland, to kiss an Irishman during a Christmas festival is considered good luck".

"Is it indeed?"  Eadith laughed.  

Finan beamed, adoring the sound.

"Well then, I am in need of some good luck."  She leaned forward.

Finan closed the distance between them, his lips meeting her own.  It was sweet and tender, and everything else around them seemed to disappear. 

Eventually the need to breathe overpowered their ability to keep kissing, causing them to separate, their breaths heavy.

They shared a smile, letting their foreheads rest against each other, their fingers lacing together. Their breaths mingled in the cold air between them.

They sat there together in the quiet of the night, taking in the moment and considering what lay ahead of them in the future.

"What are you both doing freezing your arses off out here?" A voice shouted, startling the pair apart, both clearing their throats acting as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't.

Looking ahead of them, Finan saw Uhtred making his way over to them, ascending the steps past them and to the doors of the hall with a grin on his face.

"Just takin' in the night air, Lord,"  Finan replied, getting to his feet and sending a scathing look to his friend at his untimely interruption. 

"And will you be rejoining us in the hall, or will you be taking the fair lady home for the evening?"  Uhtred smirked, eyebrow raised in question while he opened the door to the hall.

Finan looked to Eadith, unsure if she would want to return to being in company just yet.  He could always offer to walk her home if she did not.  Though not in the way Uhtred had intended it.

"We will rejoin the party Lord, I am not finished listening to tales of all your past misadventures yet."  She giggled.

Finan offered her his hand, helping her to her feet.  Not letting go even once she had caught her balance.

"I am happy for you both."  Uhtred said seriously, before disappearing inside, leaving the door open for them.

Finan and Eadith shared a last breathless smile with each other before making their way up the steps and back to the feast.

Whatever had happened in their pasts, Finan was sure that they would continue onwards, able to finally find a home in each other.  

Home was certainly where the heart is.

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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tags:

@solinarimoon @emilyhufflepufftlk @morosemagick @madrielite @axe-does-writing @lauwrite1225​

[hades-10397]

31 days of Harringrove

Prompt: Sick for the Holidays

Steve was relaxing after spending the morning with his parents playing pretend family for the holidays. They went to church to show everyone that they were good parents not absent ones. Steve didn’t mind to much now he was just use to it at this point. So after church they came home and had an early lunch where his father told him to get his shit together. Like a good son he told him he would and disappeared to his room.

His parents were now at some fancy Christmas party with friends which was fine by Steve. He sighed as he watched tv enjoying the quiet. He was almost asleep when the phone rang. Steve got up and jogged over to the phone. “Harrington residents.” He would normally say ‘Go for Steve’ but with his parents in town he couldn’t. “Steve! Hey it’s Max. I know it’s Christmas but I have a favor to ask.” He was surprised that Max called him. She never really called him for things. “Uh yeah what’s up.”

“Look I know you guys have a past but… Billy is really sick and his dad is an asshole and won’t let us take care of him. Keeps saying ‘He’s a man he can deal.’” He knew Billy’s dad wasn’t the easiest guy to get along with. “Anyway, We’re about to go look at Christmas light and be a ‘family’ So I was wondering while we’re gone if you can check in on him. Maybe bring him some medicine and soup.” She whispered the last part. Steve didn’t really want to see the guy but he doesn’t deserve to be sick and treated like shit. He sighed. “Alright yeah I can do that.”

He parked his car down the street like he was instructed. Walking up to the house he couldn’t even tell if anyone was home. He took the key under the mat and unlocked the door. Most of the lights were off so it was a little hard to see but he made his way through the house. “First door on the right.” He told himself. Steve knocked on the door waiting to hear something. It was silent so he opened the door slowly. “Billy? Hello?” He fully stepped into the room closing the door behind him. “Max I swear to god if you stayed behind to take care of …me”

Billy gave Steve a confused look. Then a concerned look. “The fuck are you doing here Harrington!” Billy was whispering which was werid because he figured he knew no one was home. “Do you have a death wish or somethin!” He watched Billy sit up but the other held his head in hands breathing heavy. “Woah dude lay back down. Max asked me to come okay. Told me your dad was being an ass so here I am. I even have medicine and soup!” He held up a bag and smiled at him. It was silent for a couple seconds till BIlly started laughing.

“Oh my god! You’re serious!” Steve started to frown. Why did he have to be a dick all the time. “I was just trying to be nice forget it.” He stood up to leave but felt a hand around his wrist pulling him back. Billy wore a soft smile. “I’m not trying to be rude I’m sorry just funny that out of everyone she called you. God I’ll have to get her back for this.” He chuckled. Steve wasn’t to worried. It didn’t seem like he was actually going to do anything. So he sat on the side of the bed opening up the cold medicine handing a few to Billy. “Look at you. You gonna nurse me back to health pretty boy.” He winked before taking his medicine.

“You know for someone who’s sick you seem perfectly fine to me.” He spoke as he pulled the take out soup out of the bag. He handed it to Billy along with a spoon. Steve tossed the empty bag on the ground. He expected BIlly to already be eating but he was just leaning up on the wall smiling. “What… is there something on my face.” Billy handed him the spoon. “No but there will be if Nurse Harrington doesn’t take care of me.” Steve couldnt tell if the other was blushing or if it the fever. This guy really wanted him to feed him soup. Why is he always so difficult. “You’re insufferable.” Steve sighed and took the spoon from his hands and started feeding him.

“Is this some power play thing you got going on dude? Why are you doing this.” Billy had eaten almost half of the soup now. Steve gave him some time to swallow and answer him. “Nah man. I have Steve Harrington in my room. I’m gonna make the most of it.” Billy smiled and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth waiting for another spoon full. For some reason the comment made Steve blush. He returned to feeding him hoping Billy wouldn't notice the soft pink growing on his cheeks. Billy finished his soup and laid back. Steve tucked him back in his blankets.

“So why was your dad just going to let you sit here sick?” He couldn’t help himself. Sure his dad wasn’t the best but something told him Billy’s dad was on a whole other level. He watched Billy’s face change. “My pops is big on ‘being a man’. Can’t be weak. Can’t cry. Can’t be queer.” His eyes widened. “Billy… are you-“ “Yes I’m queer got a problem with it.” He looked like he was ready to fight. “No! No I don’t.. I’m not.. I’m also queer.. well bi or that’s what Robin says.” He laughed awkwardly. Billy laughed “Why do you think I call you pretty boy.”

Steve couldn’t find the words to say. This whole time Billy was just picking on him because he liked him. Steve owes Robin 20 bucks.

[the-lady-writes-what]

Hey...

Real talk for a second because I just had a convo with my sister a few minutes ago. The US is garbage. Well, I take that back because even garbage can serve some purpose like becoming bio-fuel or feeding a racoon. We have more states trying to pass anti-Trans, anti-LGBTQ2S+, and racist Jim Crow laws than there ever should be. Even fucking Hawaii is banning education on sexual orientation and gender identity in public schools. States that I had once considered pretty Blue and/or Liberal are coming out with misinformation and bills that will make it harder to exist as a trans or queer youth.

These bills will have a severe negative impact on trans and queer youth across the country. Children, as in kids younger than 12, are contemplating suicide because these backwards politicians are using them pawns to greedily cling onto some form of power. By taking away the rights of trans and queer youth, they're establishing a bid to gain more power to oust and eliminate anyone who identifies as anything other than straight and cisgender. These politicians will have blood on their hands when people, especially children and teenagers, starting dying by their own hands because they can't get the medical assistance they need.

They won't stop at queer and trans youth. They're using children as meat shields because that's the last straw they can grasp. They haven't won with economics, regrowth, education, etc. They can't even keep separation of church and state. But it's the drag queens who are the problem. Nope, not the public school teachers who almost get away with filming boys in the locker room like the wrestling coach at my middle school. Nope, it's not the "Christian" ministers and Catholic priests harming choir boys. It's not even the Boy Scout troop leaders who have been counted in the thousands of abusing young boys from the 1950's to today. It's drag queens and queers and anybody who doesn't fit the perfect straight-white-cisgender mold that the Republican party wants to kill by any means necessary. If these bills drive people out of the country or ending their own lives, you can damn well bet the Republicans will do it themselves with guns, angry mobs, and lynchings.

And because it won't stop at trans and queer people, they'll go after anyone who is gender non-conforming. Nobody will be safe. It's only March and I'm dreading to see what Pride month and conventions will look like since these laws are so vaguely worded anyone could be arrested for "impersonating the opposite gender." My trans friends are considering moving states because the one where I live is introducing more bills that would ultimately force everyone back into the closet.

Ultimately, the only words of advice I can give for the time being is stay safe as far as possible, stick together, and listen and stand beside POC queer folk who will be doubly affected by these laws. Peace

P.S, Fuck Desantis, Margery Taylor Green, Donald Trump, the Proud Boys, and that fucking traitor George Santos.

[atlanticcanada]

Moncton Easter egg hunt brings Biker Bunny to town

In most houses, the Easter bunny visits in the middle of the night, but in Moncton, he shows up on a motorcycle.

Biker Bunny started eight years ago, bringing more than just chocolate to the city. His goal is to deliver happiness.

“Just the reactions,” he said. “The reactions of everybody from two to 92, there’s no age limit to get a smile out of a motorcycle-riding Easter bunny. It’s never been done before around here.”

Over Easter weekend, the bunny had a full schedule with 12 hour days planned for both Saturday and Sunday, including over 100 homes to visit throughout the city.

“The thing is with the price of everything going up, families are working double-time just to pay the mortgage, feed the kids, there’s no parent-kid time anymore,” he said. “So, if I can break that cycle by driving through the neighbourhood and getting a picture and getting a couple of smiles, even if it only lasts a few minutes, it makes it all worth it in the end.”

One of his first weekend stops was at Pinehurst Park for a community-wide Easter egg hunt. Nearly 50 kids and their families came out for a morning of excitement on Saturday.

For Oleksii Titov, Dina Titova and their two children, it is their first Easter celebration in Canada after fleeing Ukraine last year.

“It’s unusual,” said Titov. “We have Easter in Ukraine, but it is different what we do. We don’t have an Easter bunny. We usually go into the church, all night we’re in the church, we’ll make some bread for Easter, we paint eggs every Easter and we crush the eggs,” he adds.

However, the family is excited to participate and take on a new tradition.

“We’re very happy because in our country, it’s not a good situation now and in Canada we feel free and it’s most important for our family and also our kids,” said Titova.

“In Canada and Ukraine, it looks different. For us, it’s very beautiful. Our host family, where we live after we come [to] Canada, they share information about celebrate Easter, and for our family, it is so interesting.”

The neighbourhood hunt started last year. Daphne Hachey says it was a way to get everyone back together following COVID-19 lockdowns.

“I just put it on Facebook, if anyone wanted to come and be involved and participate, and everyone in the community seemed really excited and wanted to do it,” she said.

It’s also a collaborative effort. Every parent goes and decorates the park ahead of the hunt so that there are enough treats for every kid who wants to participate.

“It’s so great and hopefully we’re going to spark some core memories in these little guys and everyone just wants to come out and hang out with everybody,” said Hachey.

On top of bringing the community together, seeing the Biker Bunny and having fun over the holiday, the community also helped raise money for kids in need.

“The Biker Bunny raises money for the Canadian Tire Jumpstart Program so I just had a donation box and I was collecting money from anyone that wanted to donate,” said Hachey. “This year, we donated $148 to them, so that was really great. Last year, we donated about $75, so hopefully it keeps growing every year.”

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/Gz7gX35

[microlm]

“if Faerghus manages to subsume Adrestia, then there’s no guarantee that it wouldn’t take the opportunity to do the same to Leicester. And indeed, Faerghus proves that it would jump at the chance in trying to take those border regions, as well how it historically has done so to Leicester in the past.” Huh? WHERE??? Faerghus and Leiecester have NEVER shown mutual animosity towards each other after the Crescent Moon War unlike Adrestia still being upset that Faerghus got pissed at the empire for feeding its citizens to wild animals to entertain ppl in Enbarr. Edelgard and Ferdinand both keep this nasty idea that Adrestia is the best and has the right to rule over the entire continent just because. Hell, Claude and Leicester COOPERATE with the Church and Faerghus in Azure Moon, Verdant Wind, Silver Snow, Azure Gleam, in the latter Claude is FRIENDLY towards Rhea and they even plan battle strategies TOGETHER to fight against the Empire, but outside of AG Claude is said to continue to march towards Faerghus to crush it and he even crowned himself king which is a slap in the face to a confederation that was proud for not bowing to any king or emperor. And where is there any clue, indication in either game that Dimitri and co want to conquer Leicester? Where do they say that?

I really enjoyed your fic but i’m baffled that you’re supporting Khalidstan talking points, as a fellow Claude fan we just have to take the L and accept that the writers massively fucked over Claude and chose to write him much worse in Hopes and that Faerghus and co can’t catch a break from everyone trying to fuck them over too! At least Engage is coming out soon to wash our hands of Hopes so we can try to forget that game exists?

You have a lot of question I'm happy to answer!

“if Faerghus manages to subsume Adrestia, then there’s no guarantee that it wouldn’t take the opportunity to do the same to Leicester. And indeed, Faerghus proves that it would jump at the chance in trying to take those border regions, as well how it historically has done so to Leicester in the past.” Huh? WHERE??? Faerghus and Leiecester have NEVER shown mutual animosity towards each other after the Crescent Moon War unlike Adrestia still being upset that Faerghus got pissed at the empire for feeding its citizens to wild animals to entertain ppl in Enbarr.

The Crescent Moon War is a whole lot more recent than Adrestia feeding vaguely defined northerners to wild animals, like I'm not even sure that's supposed to refer to people from Faerghus as opposed to Sreng or something. Hell even the original Faerghus breakoff war was more recent than that if you want to talk about recent conflicts between the Empire and the Kingdom, so I'm not sure why you brought up what is essentially historical fiction about Seiros and Wilhelm set in the early 100s or 200s at the latest.

There technically weren't any outright wars between either the Empire or Leicester or Faerghus after their initial splits from each other--the most recent of which was the Crescent Moon war, but there's still been some quieter conflicts. Faerghus very much did get themselves involved in House Daphnel, and again with the western nobles that wanted to defect form the Alliance right before Claude chose to ally with Edelgard. "Those nobles wanted to leave the Alliance" but would they have gone through with it if Faerghus hadn't gotten themselves involved? Faerghus did because it benefitted them. That's just how countries are sometimes, but it doesn't exactly paint a portrait of confidence for the fledgling Federation that was founded in an attempt to make Alliance more formally unified as a nation and less a loose collection of nobles. How would they know that Faerghus won't continue to try to pick at it given the opportunity? Especially when the game shows time and again that Rhea can get herself involved in the Kingdom's affairs, and she does express that she doesn't see the Federation as legitimate. Maybe she wouldn't see it that way if the Federation didn't oppose her, but again, the first gesture of the church was to help parts of the Federation break off.

Edelgard and Ferdinand both keep this nasty idea that Adrestia is the best and has the right to rule over the entire continent just because.

And I never said the Empire was right to absorb the other two countries? I've always hated that the routes ended in the unification, part of the appeal of GW's ending to me is that there's the possibility that it DOESN'T.

Hell, Claude and Leicester COOPERATE with the Church and Faerghus in Azure Moon, Verdant Wind, Silver Snow, Azure Gleam, in the latter Claude is FRIENDLY towards Rhea and they even plan battle strategies TOGETHER to fight against the Empire, but outside of AG Claude is said to continue to march towards Faerghus to crush it and he even crowned himself king which is a slap in the face to a confederation that was proud for not bowing to any king or emperor. And where is there any clue, indication in either game that Dimitri and co want to conquer Leicester? Where do they say that?

Yes, because there wasn't a viable alternative for him Azure Moon (as contrived as I thought it was, and largely serving the writer's desires for a unified Fodlan), Azure Gleam (where the ending implies he's still not happy about Rhea), and SS (where it was really just a brief military strategy, not really the full bodied alliance of the previous two examples). Verdant Wind he held the cards in his hands regarding the church, and he is friendly with Rhea with the important caveat that she's already deposed and he has no intentions of returning power to her.

Outside of AG, SB's "good" end has him still under the pact because he hasn't found a way to break free, SB's bad end has him warring with Edelgard but not explicitly marching to Faerghus, and you might want to reread the GW ending again. The ending is going through events in chronological order, the bit about "Claude has invaded Faerghus with Edelgard" is talking about the context of the final battle. He is currently in an alliance with Edelgard, and he is currently invading Faerghus that's why the final battle is in Faerghus. Dimitri purposely left Rhea there for Claude to defeat, and trusted him to leave Fhirdiad alone. He proposes peace after, and does not try to crush Faerghus.

The Roundtable crowned Claude king, he didn't crown himself. And Lorenz makes it clear that that agreement can be retracted. It's no more a slap than Claude convincing them to join a kingdom under a foreign king in AM. Claude at least proposes that the next king be selected by a voting process that includes commoners, so really, if that comes to fruition, that's more say that most of the population gets than purely being ruled by a hereditary oligarchy.

Regarding Dimitri, he's already made himself look bad by trying to absorb parts of Leicester (even if you say those nobles wanted it, it doesn't mean he had to be opportunistic and agree to it!), and again, Rhea does not view the Federation as legitimate because the central church was not involved in the crowning of it's king. Edelgard, while she once invaded, was actively changing her tune and acknowledging the Federation's legitimacy and paying reparations for the damages she caused. None of this would be much of a debate if the writing just went into this conflict more, and it would've been a fascinating way to drive some more church vs federation drama, but IS just decided to leave that to a side battle and flavor text.

I really enjoyed your fic but i’m baffled that you’re supporting Khalidstan talking points, as a fellow Claude fan we just have to take the L and accept that the writers massively fucked over Claude and chose to write him much worse in Hopes and that Faerghus and co can’t catch a break from everyone trying to fuck them over too! At least Engage is coming out soon to wash our hands of Hopes so we can try to forget that game exists?

I'm glad you enjoyed my fic! But these talking points aren't that different from the views I expressed in the fic. I think Fodlan has issues in the way it treats outside nations, I think Rhea has been maintaining a structure harmful to Fodlan despite her intentions, and I think Edelgard was wrong to try to absorb other nations and in the way she conducted her war in 3H (which 3Hopes did their best to soften to make Claude open to negotiating with her) but there was very much a path that Claude wanted to be able to walk with her and Dimitri and he doesn't care for the church's existing institutions.

There are parts of Hopes that frustrates me, but I think more than anything, I'm frustrated by the unsatisfying endings. I actually want more Hopes, I want a proper ending for the routes that explores the implications of their endings! AND I WANT PLAYABLE CYRIL!!!!!

Also, please try to stick to discussing the game instead of childish name calling of random strangers who tend to be PoC who love Claude but view Fodlan's portrayal of race with a critical eye, thanks!

[mere-christianity]

Mere Christianity Podcast: Episode 8

Book 3: Christian Behaviour

Chapter 3. Social Morality

The first thing to get clear about Christian morality between man and man is that in this department Christ did not come to preach any brand new morality. The Golden Rule of the New Testament (Do as you would be done by) is a summing up of what everyone, at bottom, had always known to be right. Really great moral teachers never do introduce new moralities: it is quacks and cranks who do that. As Dr. Johnson said, "People need to be reminded more often than they need to be instructed." The real job of every moral teacher is to keep on bringing us back, time after time, to the old simple principles which we are all so anxious not to see; like bringing a horse back and back to the fence it has refused to jump or bringing a child back and back to the bit in its lesson that it wants to shirk.

The second thing to get clear is that Christianity has not, and does not profess to have, a detailed political programme for applying "Do as you would be done by" to a particular society at a particular moment. It could not have. It is meant for all men at all times and the particular programme which suited one place or time would not suit another. And, anyhow, that is not how Christianity works. When it tells you to feed the hungry it does not give you lessons in cookery. When it tells you to read the Scriptures it does not give you lessons in Hebrew and Greek, or even in English grammar. It was never intended to replace or supersede the ordinary human arts and sciences: it is rather a director which will set them all to the right jobs, and a source of energy which will give them all new life, if only they will put themselves at its disposal.

People say, "The Church ought to give us a lead." That is true if they mean it in the right way, but false if they mean it in the wrong way. By the Church they ought to mean the whole body of practising Christians. And when they say that the Church should give us a lead, they ought to mean that some Christians- those who happen to have the right talents- should be economists and statesmen, and that all economists and statesmen should be Christians, and that their whole efforts in politics and economics should be directed to putting "Do as you would be done by" into action. If that happened, and if we others were really ready to take it, then we should find the Christian solution for our own social problems pretty quickly. But, of course, when they ask for a lead from the Church most people mean they want the clergy to put out a political programme. That is silly. The clergy are those particular people within the whole Church who have been specially trained and set aside to look after what concerns us as creatures who are going to live for ever: and we are asking them to do a quite different job for which they have not been trained. The job is really on us, on the laymen. The application of Christian principles, say, to trade unionism or education, must come from Christian trade unionists and Christian schoolmasters: just as Christian literature comes from Christian novelists and dramatists -not from the bench of bishops getting together and trying to write plays and novels in their spare time.

All the same, the New Testament, without going into details, gives us a pretty clear hint of what a fully Christian society would be like. Perhaps it gives us more than we can take. It tells us that there are to be no passengers or parasites: if man does not work, he ought not to eat. Every one is to work with his own hands, and what is more, every one's work is to produce something good: there will be no manufacture of silly luxuries and then of sillier advertisements to persuade us to buy them. And there is to be no "swank" or "side," no putting on airs. To that extent a Christian society would be what we now call Leftist. On the other hand, it is always insisting on obedience-obedience (and outward marks of respect) from all of us to properly appointed magistrates, from children to parents, and (I am afraid this is going to be very unpopular) from wives to husbands. Thirdly, it is to be a cheerful society: full of singing and rejoicing, and regarding worry or anxiety as wrong. Courtesy is one of the Christian virtues; and the New Testament hates what it calls "busybodies."

If there were such a society in existence and you or I visited it, I think we should come away with a curious impression. We should feel that its economic life was very socialistic and, in that sense, "advanced," but that its family life and its code of manners were rather old-fashioned-perhaps even ceremonious and aristocratic. Each of us would like some bits of it, but I am afraid very few of us would like the whole thing. That is just what one would expect if Christianity is the total plan for the human machine. We have all departed from that total plan in different ways, and each of us wants to make out that his own modification of the original plan is the plan itself. You will find this again and again about anything that is really Christian: every one is attracted by bits of it and wants to pick out those bits and leave the rest. That is why we do not get much further: and that is why people who are fighting for quite opposite things can both say they are fighting for Christianity.

Now another point. There is one bit of advice given to us by the ancient heathen Greeks, and by the Jews in the Old Testament, and by the great Christian teachers of the Middle Ages, which the modern economic system has completely disobeyed. All these people told us not to lend money at interest: and lending money at interest-what we call investment-is the basis of our whole system. Now it may not absolutely follow that we are wrong. Some people say that when Moses and Aristotle and the Christians agreed in forbidding interest (or "usury" as they called it), they could not foresee the joint stock company, and were only thinking of the private moneylender, and that, therefore, we need not bother about what they said. That is a question I cannot decide on. I am not an economist and I simply do not know whether the investment system is responsible for the state we are in or not. This is where we want the Christian economist. But I should not have been honest if I had not told you that three great civilisations had agreed (or so it seems at first sight) in condemning the very thing on which we have based our whole life.

One more point and I am done. In the passage where the New Testament says that every one must work, it gives as a reason "in order that he may have something to give to those in need." Charity-giving to the poor-is an essential part of Christian morality: in the frightening parable of the sheep and the goats it seems to be the point on which everything turns. Some people nowadays say that charity ought to be unnecessary and that instead of giving to the poor we ought to be producing a society in which there were no poor to give to. They may be quite right in saying that we ought to produce that kind of society. But if anyone thinks that, as a consequence, you can stop giving in the meantime, then he has parted company with all Christian morality. I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc, is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving away too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charitable expenditure excludes them. I am speaking now of "charities" in the common way. Particular cases of distress among your own relatives, friends, neighbours or employees, which God, as it were, forces upon your notice, may demand much more: even to the crippling and endangering of your own position. For many of us the great obstacle to charity lies not in our luxurious living or desire for more money, but in our fear-fear of insecurity. This must often be recognised as a temptation. Sometimes our pride also hinders our charity; we are tempted to spend more than we ought on the showy forms of generosity (tipping, hospitality) and less than we ought on those who really need our help.

And now, before I end, I am going to venture on a guess as to how this section has affected any who have read it. My guess is that there are some Leftist people among them who are very angry that it has not gone further in that direction, and some people of an opposite sort who are angry because they think it has gone much too far. If so, that brings us right up against the real snag in all this drawing up of blueprints for a Christian society. Most of us are not really approaching the subject in order to find out what Christianity says: we are approaching it in the hope of finding support from Christianity for the views of our own party. We are looking for an ally where we are offered either a Master or-a Judge. I am just the same. There are bits in this section that I wanted to leave out. And that is why nothing whatever is going to come of such talks unless we go a much longer way round. A Christian society is not going to arrive until most of us really want it: and we are not going to want it until we become fully Christian. I may repeat "Do as you would be done by" till I am black in the face, but I cannot really carry it out till I love my neighbour as myself: and I cannot learn to love my neighbour as myself till I learn to love God: and I cannot learn to love God except by learning to obey Him. And so, as I warned you, we are driven on to something more inward -driven on from social matters to religious matters. For the longest way round is the shortest way home.

Chapter 4. Morality and Psychoanalysis.

I have said that we should never get a Christian society unless most of us became Christian individuals. That does not mean, of course, that we can put off doing anything about society until some imaginary date in the far future. It means that we must begin both jobs at once;

(1)   the job of seeing how "Do as you would be done by" can be applied in detail to modern society, and

(2)   the job of becoming the sort of people who really would apply it if we saw how.

 I now want to begin considering what the Christian idea of a good man is-the Christian specification for the human machine.

Before I come down to details there are two more general points I should like to make. First of all, since Christian morality claims to be a technique for putting the human machine right, I think you would like to know how it is related to another technique which seems to make a similar claim-namely, psychoanalysis.

Now you want to distinguish very clearly between two things: between the actual medical theories and technique of the psychoanalysts, and the general philosophical view of the world which Freud and some others have gone on to add to this. The second thing-the philosophy of Freud-is in direct contradiction to Christianity: and also in direct contradiction to the other great psychologist, Jung. And furthermore, when Freud is talking about how to cure neurotics he is speaking as a specialist on his own subject, but when he goes on to talk general philosophy he is speaking as an amateur. It is therefore quite sensible to attend to him with respect in the one case and not in the other-and that is what I do. I am all the readier to do it because I have found that when he is talking off his own subject and on a subject I do know something about (namely, languages) he is very ignorant. But psychoanalysis itself, apart from all the philosophical additions that Freud and others have made to it, is not in the least contradictory to Christianity. Its technique overlaps with Christian morality at some points and it would not be a bad thing if every parson knew something about it: but it does not run the same course all the way, for the two techniques are doing rather different things.

When a man makes a moral choice two things are involved. One is the act of choosing. The other is the various feelings, impulses and so on which his psychological outfit presents him with, and which are the raw material of his choice. Now this raw material may be of two kinds. Either it may be what we would call normal: it may consist of the sort of feelings that are common to all men. Or else it may consist of quite unnatural feelings due to things that have gone wrong in his subconscious. Thus fear of things that are really dangerous would be an example of the first kind: an irrational fear of cats or spiders would be an example of the second kind. The desire of a man for a woman would be of the first kind: the perverted desire of a man for a man would be of the second. Now what psychoanalysis undertakes to do is to remove the abnormal feelings, that is, to give the man better raw material for his acts of choice: morality is concerned with the acts of choice themselves.

Put it this way. Imagine three men who go to war. One has the ordinary natural fear of danger that any man has and he subdues it by moral effort and becomes a brave man. Let us suppose that the other two have, as a result of things in their sub-consciousness, exaggerated, irrational fears, which no amount of moral effort can do anything about. Now suppose that a psychoanalyst comes along and cures these two: that is, he puts them both back in the position of the first man. Well it is just then that the psychoanalytical problem is over and the moral problem begins. Because, now that they are cured, these two men might take quite different lines. The first might say, "Thank goodness I've got rid of all those doodahs. Now at last I can do what I always wanted to do-my duty to the cause of freedom." But the other might say, "Well, I'm very glad that I now feel moderately cool under fire, but, of course, that doesn't alter the fact that I'm still jolly well determined to look after Number One and let the other chap do the dangerous job whenever I can. Indeed one of the good things about feeling less frightened is that I can now look after myself much more efficiently and can be much cleverer at hiding the fact from the others." Now this difference is a purely moral one and psychoanalysis cannot do anything about it. However much you improve the man's raw material, you have still got something else: the real, free choice of the man, on the material presented to him, either to put his own advantage first or to put it last. And this free choice is the only thing that morality is concerned with.

The bad psychological material is not a sin but a disease. It does not need to be repented of, but to be cured. And by the way, that is very important. Human beings judge one another by their external actions. God judges them by their moral choices. When a neurotic who has a pathological horror of cats forces himself to pick up a cat for some good reason, it is quite possible that in God's eyes he has shown more courage than a healthy man may have shown in winning the V.C. When a man who has been perverted from his youth and taught that cruelty is the right thing, does some tiny little kindness, or refrains from some cruelty he might have committed, and thereby, perhaps, risks being sneered at by his companions, he may, in God's eyes, be doing more than you and I would do if we gave up life itself for a friend.

It is as well to put this the other way round. Some of us who seem quite nice people may, in fact, have made so little use of a good heredity and a good upbringing that we are really worse than those whom we regard as fiends. Can we be quite certain how we should have behaved if we had been saddled with the psychological outfit, and then with the bad upbringing, and then with the power, say, of Himmler? That is why Christians are told not to judge.

We see only the results which a man's choices make out of his raw material. But God does not judge him on the raw material at all, but on what he has done with it. Most of the man's psychological make-up is probably due to his body: when his body dies all that will fall off him, and the real central man. the thing that chose, that made the best or the worst out of this material, will stand naked. All sorts of nice things which we thought our own, but which were really due to a good digestion, will fall off some of us: all sorts of nasty things which were due to complexes or bad health will fall off others. We shall then, for the first tune, see every one as he really was. There will be surprises.

And that leads on to my second point. People often think of Christian morality as a kind of bargain in which God says, "If you keep a lot of rules I'll reward you, and if you don't I'll do the other thing." I do not think that is the best way of looking at it. I would much rather say that every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow-creatures, and with itself. To be the one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing to the one state or the other.

That explains what always used to puzzle me about Christian writers; they seem to be so very strict at one moment and so very free and easy at another. They talk about mere sins of thought as if they were immensely important: and then they talk about the most frightful murders and treacheries as if you had only got to repent and all would be forgiven. But I have come to see that they are right. What they are always thinking of is the mark which the action leaves on that tiny central self which no one sees in this life but which each of us will have to endure-or enjoy-for ever. One man may be so placed that his anger sheds the blood of thousands, and another so placed that however angry he gets he will only be laughed at. But the little mark on the soul may be much the same in both. Each has done something to himself which, unless he repents, will make it harder for him to keep out of the rage next time he is tempted, and will make the rage worse when he does fall into it. Each of them, if he seriously turns to God, can have that twist in the central man straightened out again: each is, in the long run, doomed if he will not. The bigness or smallness of the thing, seen from the outside, is not what really matters.

One last point. Remember that, as I said, the right direction leads not only to peace but to knowledge. When a man is getting better he understands more and more clearly the evil that is still left in him. When a man is getting worse, he understands his own badness less and less. A moderately bad man knows he is not very good: a thoroughly bad man thinks he is all right. This is common sense, really. You understand sleep when you are awake, not while you are sleeping. You can see mistakes in arithmetic when your mind is working properly: while you are making them you cannot see them. You can understand the nature of drunkenness when you are sober, not when you are drunk. Good people know about both good and evil: bad people do not know about either.

To be continued in episode 9, based on the works of CS Lewis.

A Christian apologetical book by the British author C. S. Lewis. The book consists of four parts: the first presents Lewis's arguments for the existence of God; the second contains his defence of Christian theology, including his notable "Liar, lunatic, or Lord" trilemma; the third has him exploring Christian ethics, among which are cardinal and theological virtues; in the final, he writes on the Christian conception of God.

[artie5o5]

Lay Me Gently In The Cold Dark Earth | Short Story Update #1

Logline: A 24 year old guy is brough face to face with his childhood trauma of neglect abuse and violence that he would rather not confront when he goes to live in a small religious village town with his beloved.

Story's Vibes: Work Song by Hozier. My Own Private Idaho. Take Me to Church. I wanted it to have soft, rural vibes, domestic bliss.

POV: 1st person retrorespective.

Word Count: Around 5000

Inspiration: Work Song by HozerTM // Hold Me Under Till I See The Light by Shaelin Bishop.

Characters:

Protagonist

24

Soft boy vibes. River Pheonix Timothee Chalamet vibes

Loves his beloved. That is his entire personality, he eats, breahtes, lives his love. He lives for his love. He loves, loves, loves.

Racked with religious guilt, doesn't know what to do with his feelings.

Reckoning with the sins of his past as he "lives his sin" with his girlfrend in a deeply religious village

There is an interesting conflict in his internal beliegs that I don't really know how to explore.

His Beloved

23

Autamn day, fallen leaves, milky white hands colored with mud, soft sunlight bouncing off of brown frizzy hair

She's the gossip of the town, the shame on the family name. Yet so enchantingly charming no one can smite her to her face

Whispers follow her where she goes. Yet she chooses to go everywhere regardless of the whispers.

"A hush fell into the room when she entered, then whispers followed."

She loves, loves, loves, she loves everyone and everything.

What's it about?

CW: SA, Prostitution, Drug abuse, implied child abuse, implied self harm.

Our Unnamed protagonist goes on a three day binge by mixing a shit ton of alcohol with a shit ton of drugs and sedatives and starts dreamwalking. Dreamwalking? He basically keeps walking until he is out of the big city and ends up in a small town he's never been in before. He falls apart infront of a typists apartment, ready to embrace death...

... only to be woken up in a small succint apartment couch, he sees the soft sunlight coming through the curtain, he sees an empty crib in another room, he falls in an out of conciousness, and he's saved by the heavenly touch of someone he deems godsend.

They move in together in her small farming village after her father's death. Her father leaves her behind an apple orchard. He works as a farm boy in a neighbours land. They have quite the beautiful life. He works all day, comes home to her baking cookies in the kitchen. Falls asleep to the earthly scent of her hair.

Except for the fact that the deeply religious community deems their quaint life as "living in sin". The targetted preachings in sunday masses, the whispers, the name callings stirrs deep seeted memories in him, that he has spent a lifetime trying to drown in booze and pills. His own complicated belifes in divinity is in direct contrast with the life he has led, and is leading. He seeks for answers, he seeks for salvation, he seeks to be free

I started writing this story in either 2020, or 2022. It's been so long that I've forgotten. The first half of the story follows Hozier's Work Song beat by beat. The more I wrote, the more I edited what I wrote the story took on it's own form. It starts with our protagonist ploughig the field with his.. cowerkers? One of the boys Simon asks him about his beliefs in death and afterlife given the fact that they've heard everyone from towns and cities are athiests and heathens.

“But what do you believe?”  Simon asked. “You want to hear some blasphemy.” Old Joe barked at Simon. “That's what you want.” He turned to the boys. “We go in our graves, six feet under - and then we rot and feed the worms.” There was a collective unease. Simon ignored Old Joe completely. He asked me again, “Do you also believe that? Or do you believe there is no Heaven and Hell?” I thought of my beloved, working in her garden. The earth and the dirt smeared in her pale white hands, at the hems of her skirts. “What Joe said. We go back to the earth, I suppose.” I shrugged. “But no grave will hold my body down.”  I’ll crawl home to my beloved.

Copied straight out of the Work Song, I know. Bear with me for a second there. i was going through a terrible writing slump at the time, and the beats of the songs helped me find a general structure for the story. A lot of things did change the more I drafted. It's been so long and so many drafts that I've forgotten most of the drafting process.

In the Fall of 2020 Shaelin Bishop's "Hold Me Under Till I See the light" was published, so I think that probably tells us I at least started writing this in 2020. The line level work was heavily influenced by Hold me Under. Every time I felt stuck, I went back and re-read Shaelin's short story to get **inspiration**

In the final draft, not much of the story follows the beats in "Work Song". The structure a bit of a back and forth between the present day events in the village and the backstory of our protagonist. I've tried to keep the pacing as smooth as possible. There was a lot of pacing problems in the earlier drafts that I've since tried to polish out.

I've submitted to and got rejected by multiple magazines. I recently got a feedback on my story that was mostly positive apart from a few clarity issues, so I don't know what to do with it. I'm going to actively go threw it again. I'm also actively looking for anyone to provide critque or suggest possible literary magazines that publishes similar work. This story is really personal to me for some reason, I don't really know why. I'm neither catholic nor have been subject to any of the tortures our protagonist was subjected to, yet I somehow feel a certain kinship with him that I can't really explain.

Here are some excerpts from the finished draft

This is my original work, please treat it gently. Do not plagiarise

I had walked off for miles. Miles and miles and miles of highway and busy streets before I started wandering around in a place I had never stepped foot in before. It was well into the night, in an unknown town, in front of a stranger's door - when I passed out.

The line level work is probably where Shaelin Bishop's influence comes in the most. I've tried really hard to replicate her writing style as much as possible. I know I haven't succeeded. XD But trying to replicate her style has certainly improved the quality of my work compared to what it *used* to be.

image description: the outline of an ornate window reflected on a wall by the soft sunlight. Over it is the text "I woke up with her walls around me. The curtains were drawn – sunlight poured through the white fabric in a soft golden haze. I was lying face up on a sofa, cushion under my head, a blanket over me. My neck hurt as I tried to turn. I rested my head back on the cushion. The muscles ached all over my body. The headache was blinding. From the living room sofa, I saw a bedroom door slightly ajar, through the gap I saw an empty room with a high ceiling, nothing inside but an empty crib."

I tried to be very specific about the details, because our lord and saviour Shaelin keeps talking about **specificity**.

Here comes one of my favourite lines -------

I swear I thought I dreamed her. I could see in microscopic detail - Sunlight bounced off the frizz of her brown hair. She was sitting beside me on the sofa. She dipped a piece of cloth in a bowl on the glass table next to us and squeezed the water out. The wet cloth wiped out my sins as she rubbed it across my face, baptizing me for the first time in my life; when her fingers touched my skin, I knew I was reborn.

image description: a window from a dark room over looking a small a part of the sky and a streetlamp, the sun in the middle bright and glaring. Over it the text reads "“This is my home.” She said, “I grew up here.” There was the kind of ache in her voice that only comes with the yearning for a childhood you can no longer go back to. The house was engulfed in memories. She stood in the same spaces she had occupied in happier times, yet happiness felt like a feeling she could no longer replicate. Everything she touched had a story, and she recounted it all to me with a fondness tinted with guilt."

I tried to be as specific with my imegery as possible. There are some strong points, there are a lot of weak parts. I'm obviously only sharing parts that I thought was strong XD

The biggest part of the story is the relationship between the protagonist and his beloved, and I've tried to make it as heavenly and etheral as possible.

“Wait..” She walked up to me and opened the fridge, “I saved some for you.” She pulled out a plate with slices of pudding. “Desert before dinner.” She said.

“My hands are dirty.” I held them up.

She picked up a slice and fed me with her hands, clean and unbloodied.

The part that needs the most work is when his mysterious "sinful" part is fully revealed. The critique I got here is that a massive tone shift happens here. That this part of the story is more matter-of-fact than the rest of the story and as a whole takes the reader out of it a bit.

The backstory is very important and laying it out in a way that doesn't read like a "recitaion" is the main goal for my next round of edits. I haven't really had the time to delve into it just yet.

I will probably go read "Hold Me Under Till I see the light" again XD. For inspo. And rewrite the whole part scratch. I'll send the story out for another round of critiques.

If you're interested to swap short stories feel free to dm me.