#and none of this to mention the imagery and symbolism of it all

[merylstryfestan]

trigun maximum vol 6 really has a bit of everything, and i'm going to make a post about it later.

[apuff]

epic mcr merch @thankyouforthev3n0m

ngl you could reverse what's on front and back for this and it would still be cool. ALSO there could be another border line in yellow and it would look nice cause the shirt is in purple

i feel like the shirt color for this is probably best as red (cause it matches the two color vibe) although i could see navy or light blue. if you wanted yellow it'd have to be more mustard so it would stick out from the white, and idk if mustard is an appropriately danger days color :/

WHY DID I WRITE SO MANY TAGS WHAT,

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 2

Summary: The riders know you're addicted to the red smoke. Certain members thought they could help you during that point of your recovery, but that proves to be more difficult than they anticipated.

(This is the OFFICIAL continuation of Part 1. Please check out the talented @onyxonline for more context. Since this chapter contains a lot of sensitive topics, I will try my hardest to be respectful about this. The next chapter will be a little more light-hearted, I promise.)

TW: Blood, Injury, Near Death, Imprisonment, Trauma, Death mentions, Demon Mentions, Hallucinations, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Drug Withdrawal, Drug Addiction, Self harm, Accidental Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Slight cursing

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The next few days after your operation pass in a blur. Everyone has been trying to keep themselves occupied, holding on to what little air of normalcy still hung in the air. None of the riders have been able to fully process what could only be described as the biggest turn of events in their time fighting the war. It’s not the first time a member of the cult has had to undergo treatment. Victims that got converted due to planet invasion and nonconsensual exposure to the red smoke are rescued all the time. It is basic protocol for Space Riders. Sometimes a priest would be rescued. The story of how those members came to be priests varies. Some joined of their own free will, while others fought before the addiction made them lose the will to fight.

But you?

Archangels are infamous for their unwavering loyalty to the Prototype. They are the Prototype’s right-hand man, their council, and their second in command. Archangels eat, sleep, and breathe the Prototype and expect others to do the same. There are only a few known attempts to rescue archangels in history. The stories ended in one of three ways: they go back to the Prototype, (sometimes with a new band of “loyal” followers), they slaughter their rescuers, or they take their own life as a last resort.

Knowing that has made most of the Space Riders tense, Bubba included. The elephant has arguably been the tensest. Not even the sight of you resting in a cell with power mufflers on your wrists is enough to put him slightly at ease. He wasn’t a complete stranger to Aether magic (what others refer to as Divinity powers.) Granted, he only ever got to study this powerful and unique kind of sorcery through the catalogs, a few ancient ruins, and his team’s battles with you. Even then, doubt swarmed him with questions concerning how effective the cell, let alone the power mufflers will be in the long run.

Bubba sighs, pinching the bridge of his trunk as the signs of yet another headache emerge. That was one long argument with the Commander and council he would rather not revisit. Not that there are any that Bubba would like to recall. Dogday, despite all his good intentions, didn’t make it any easier for anyone. The two riders may have convinced the higher-ups, but the elephant knows that this is not the last time they will have this conversation with the Commander and council. The thought of that makes him take a swig from his coffee mug.

Problem number one may have been resolved for now, but now there’s problem number two: your red smoke addiction. With no red smoke to give you, it didn't take long for the symptoms to show up. Your feverish face contorts into a grimace yet again. Bubba glances at the vital charts. Of course, none of the numbers look any better than they did 10 minutes ago. He doesn't know why he hoped for expected anything different. Hopefully, the pain medication will do its job soon.

Bobby rushes back to your bedside with a cold, wet towel placed on your head. It's been a common occurrence with her ever since your operation. The "around the clock" care increased tenfold after the first signs of your red smoke withdrawal emerged. She even has the dark circles and bags under her eyes to prove it. Even when she's running on nothing more than fumes (and a few cups of coffee), she still runs around like she has had a good night's worth of sleep. Bubba can't help but sigh to himself.

The two medics are doing what they can to keep you comfortable and stable, but Bubba knows that the two of them will not be enough to help you right now. Hell, even Catnap's powers, despite helping you settle down and sleep, isn't a miracle cure for stabilizing your vitals in the long run. If Bubba wasn't tied up with diplomatic matters, he would take over more shifts for Bobby so that she could get some rest. Unfortunately, the others don't have the medical training so tasking them with watching over you is out of the question. Bubba insists on taking you to the HQ’s treatment center. Bobby refuses every time the idea is mentioned, insisting that the two of them are able to look after you themselves. That led to a few strong disagreements. Bubba may be miffed but can't say he blames Bobby for being concerned about the possibility of (1) another potential massacre on your end and (2) you being mistreated by those you’ve wronged. Unlike the two riders, however, the people at the center have the resources and training to help you.

----------

*MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING, PROCEED AHEAD WITH CAUTION*

You don't know how long you've been here. You can't remember. You just remember waking up to bright lights and a figure or two... maybe a few... standing over you. But then you went back into the world of darkness. Did you really wake up or was it one nonsensical dream?

You don't know.

You REALLY don't know.

It doesn't matter right now. All you know is that you're stuck in hell, and this is worse than what you grew up hearing about. Your powers stopped working, so you can’t escape. There was nowhere to run where those… things won’t find you and bring you back to your prison and torture you. Sometimes you can see the faces of your enemies before those things morphed into… something sinister. Your stomach was doing summersaults. There was a pounding in your head and chest that just won't stop. A burning tightness spread from your chest to your throat, leading you to choking and gasping at this point. This fire smoldering inside you just won’t die. All you want right now is to drop to the floor, close your eyes, and sleep. Your heavy, aching limbs beg for it, but no matter how hard you try, your head buzzes in protest.  

All you need is some red smoke. Just a whiff. Hell, just a tiny little sniff. You don't care. You just need it coursing through you right now. It'll make all the agony stop. You keep praying, BEGGING, to the Prototype to forgive you, to save you from this damnation.

Yet he never answers…

Why won't he hear you?

You know you failed him, but you didn't mean to. You would never disobey him. Not after everything he did for you. You did everything right your whole life to show your gratitude and love for him and you still ended up here-

A searing sensation from your wrist pulls you away from your thoughts. You turn it over and you see... red...

It’s so bright...

So beautiful...

And it's spreading to the white decorating your arms. Your fingers, looming above your forearm are also decorated with red. For the first time, you deliberately take in slow, deep breaths. You take in the red now seeping through the white. With shaky fingers, you slowly unwrap the soaking red barrier on your forearm. To your joy, the red spread rapidly from your bare forearm all the way down to your fingertips. Your red-stained fingers brush over your forearm, painting it with more red. At that moment, you smile, knowing your prayers had been answered. It doesn’t have that sweet aroma as usual, but it will once you allow more to spread around you. Without hesitation, you got to work on the other parts of you that were wrapped in white. Thankfully, there were plenty. You've been wrapped up in white for so long. It would look SO MUCH BETTER in red. You will do ANYTHING just to see red.

You also did have to rip out some stubborn black stringy parasites from your torso in the process. Once you managed to get every single one out, though, there was so much more red embracing you in a warm hug. It was just like all the other times. It was like the Prototype was with you again. It burned so much at first, but after some time, a cold wave of euphoria washes over your entire body. You breathe out a sigh of relief because for the first time in a long time, you can’t feel any pain. Now that there's red around you, you can finally sleep peacefully.

Much better...

Darkness begins enveloping your vision, before being dragged back by... screaming and something shattering? It's hard to tell. All you can make out are a pair of red paws being wrapped around you and lowering you to the ground. A red figure pulls you close to it, but you didn’t mind. Everything about the red figure is so warm you just want to snuggle next to it for eternity. You close your eyes, taking in that warmth. It feels so good to sleep again.

-----

The Space Riders decided to have dinner at Kissy’s Diner. Unfortunately, nothing on the table looks appealing enough to eat. They either stared blankly or picked at their food and drinks mindlessly. No words were exchanged amongst the seven of them, not even one of Kickin’s and/or Hoppy’s stupid jokes to lighten the mood. But what was there to joke about right now? What was there to even talk about?

Picky sighs, noticing one particular member still missing. She wishes she could say she was surprised, but that doesn’t mean a perfectly good meal should go to waste (even if everyone else’s meals have long since gone cold). The pig stands up, exchanges quick goodbyes with the six present members, asks Kissy for take-out boxes for the entire table, and rushes out of the diner. She makes a beeline the one place their missing member could be considering recent events.

It was just supposed to be a quick trip to your cell to deliver dinner for both you and Bobby. If you were going to stay here, you needed some nourishment to help recover. And Bobby, (bless the kind-hearted bear), has been so busy helping you through your withdrawal that she hasn’t had a lot of time to rest let alone take a break. She can’t remember the last time she saw Bobby leave your side for reasons that didn’t include retrieving medication and other things meant for your comfort. Not even Dogday was able to convince her to rest for a while. (Pretty rich coming from HIM if you ask the pig.)

Bobby only left for a few minutes for some water and more medication. Apparently, you were having a hard time breathing. Picky follows Bobby to your cell and when they got there, there you were with scratch marks and aggravated open wounds. Not only were there now bloody bandages laying sprawled on the floor, but you went as far as to rip out your stitches. The pig shudders remembering all that blood on you while you stand there muttering things like, “More red. Not enough. Need more.”

For as long as she lives, Picky doesn’t think she’ll ever forget that scream from Bobby before she ran to catch you. Not even the shattering of glass and ceramics can drown out the bear’s screams and pleas for you to stay awake. Picky remembers rushing for Bubba which ended up with her alerting the entire team. Dogday raced to the cockpit immediately to notify the Commander about the emergency. The others followed Picky down to your cell. When they reached you two, they find Bobby’s trembling hands pressing a bloody rag against your bleeding torso. Poor girl was barely able to keep the rag steady. Bubba, Picky, and Crafty rush to your unconscious figure while Catnap and Kickin gently lead Bobby out the cell. She protested but couldn’t escape the boys’ grasps. All she could do was watch Bubba bark out orders to the other girls, including Hoppy who oddly had been standing frozen in place, staring the whole time. Picky and Hoppy ran to and fro with whatever Bubba demanded while he and Crafty worked together to keep you alive long enough for Dogday to get you to the station.

After 11 minutes, the crew finally made it to the space station. Dogday leads a team of medics to you and… well the rest is history.

*END OF TRIGGERING PASSAGE*

All the riders quickly exited their spacecraft shortly after the medics took you away. None of them wanted to stay on the ship right now. After some time, Bobby said that she was just going to get some “fresh air.” But just as Picky predicted, Bobby is, instead, sitting outside your blood-stained prison cell, curled in on herself with her head buried in her knees.

“Bobby?” Picky settles down next to her, gently placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Bobby slowly raises her head. Her muzzle is wet and the cascade of tears soaking into her fur isn’t helping.

“It’s all my fault.” Bobby takes a deep, shaky breath. “I shouldn’t have left (Y/n) alone…”

Picky opens her arms and Bobby leans into the pig’s embrace without a second thought. “No, it’s not your fault. No one could have known this would happen.”

That was met with more shaking, hiccupping, and whimpering as the tears began seeping onto Picky’s sleeve. She didn’t mind at all. The pig just whispers more soothing words and assurances while rubbing circles around the other girl’s back. They stayed like that for who knows how long. (Now Picky wishes they’d invested in a clock for the cells). Eventually, Bobby ran out of tears, but she remains curled up in Picky’s arms. She hasn’t bothered moving from her spot, instead opting to stare at the metal floor. Picky can hear her occasionally let out a heavy sigh. How this girl has not fallen asleep yet despite pulling frequent all-nighters for the last few weeks is beyond the pig.

“You know… It’s not forever,” Picky began gently. “It’s just until they get better. We can always contact the facility about their progress. We can even schedule visits with them.” Picky didn’t miss the way Bobby’s frown deepened nor the way her gaze remained hardened on the cold metal floor. “Hey, they’re going to be okay.”

The only response Picky gets is a brief nod. It seems to be the only thing Bobby has the energy to do right now.

-----

Quick note - I can't believe this story got this much attention! Thank you everybody for your support. And again, sorry for the confusion yesterday. I didn't meant to post the draft. I was not paying attention to what I was pressing when I was editing. Sometimes I hate writing on mobile phones. 😆

[lesssial]

Trying to figure out the year in Bram's/Fyodor's Backstory

So what I'm looking at is Vlad the impaler's timeline along with a few hints in the manga. But not much Dracula because I haven’t read the book, and also because the book takes place about 400 years later.

So the castle that Bram lived in, for people who don't know, is an actual castle in Transylvania Romania named Bran.

Basic info

-Bran castle was built between 1377 and 1388. (Vlad the impaler never set foot in it but Dracula lived there.)

-Vlad III ruled Wallachia

-Vlad the impaler / Vlad III lived from 1431-1476 (He was defeated by the ottomans not Romans and his head was shipped to Constantinople/Istanbul)

-Vlad III’s reigns; 1448 (For a few months), 1456-62, and 1476-77.

It is a bit hard to truly connect to two while they ruled two different regions (Transylvania & Wallachia)

The knights

In this panel, we can get a look of the types of armor these knights wore.

The majority of the helmets resemble a barbute helmet which was used in the 15th century

The rectangular shields (scutum) mostly disappeared by the end of the 3rd century

Mainly spears and Halberds (The spear ax things) with an occasional sword in the crowd of knights. (Spears were cheaper at the time)

The full body armor became popular between 1400-1500s.

Byzantine empire fell in 1453 while the holy roman empire fell in the 1800s.

What nation are the knights from?

This is the main question. Are these knights from the Holy Roman empire? The Byzantine empire before it fell? Most likely not the ottoman empire due to the amount of christian symbolism. It can’t be the Byzantine empire because they rarely if at all used Halberts. Also the Byzantine empire fell pretty early so it's unlikely they were associated with Bram’s defeat. It seems like the Holy Roman empire however they did not use rectangular shields, favoring a kite or heater shield instead. Then who else?

I couldn't find any good maps

Fyodor mentioned the North (Idk why Bram started blabbering about the west). Do you know what was north of Transylvania? The Kingdom of Hungary who also had a skilled army known as the black army that used rectangular shields and was big on spears and Halberd.

The Hungarian Black army (1458-1494)

From the evidence gathered so far, it must be 1458-76.

King Matthias & the Sultan

Here, Bram asks Fyodor who he serves, either King Matthias (The king of Hungary) or the Sultan (Leader of the Ottomans). Bram was suspicious of the Sultan for the reason that they started eyeing Europe once the Byzantine Empire fell, along with his history with them (Held hostage as a boy). The tension between King Matthias and Vlad III started when Matthias received a letter from the saxons allegedly written by Vlad III in which he offered support to the Ottomans. This was enough to convince Matthias of Vlad III’s treachery so he imprisoned him from 1463 to 1475. Vlad III was intercepted and captured by Matthias after he had escaped Ottoman capture and sought Matthias for assistance. This could be when Bram was defeated in the manga(?) So I guess the year may have been 1462-1463?

Some bonus info that I noticed is that Matthias signed a peace treaty with the Holy Roman empire in 1463. Maybe Bram was defeated after they signed the treaty so they could form some sort of coalition against him (This could explain why the knights all had religious imagery on their helmets).

Another thing is that Bram was impaled(?) alongside two other women. In the Dracula book, I believe it was mentioned there were three female vampires that the protagonist had to defeat before killing Dracula in the castle. This could hint towards the fact that Bram was in the castle when he was attacked and defeated.

(I'm having trouble mixing history and fiction. Fyodor definitely had a hand in this. No way he just came to warn Bram for no reason)

None of these images are mine (I'm sure you know, but just in case)

Yeah that’s all I got, please comment to correct me and/or let me know if you know anything. (Might edit later idk)

[moltengoldveins]

having Thoughts about how, no matter how you spin the deific symbolism, there are Significantly more death/destruction figures on the DSMP than literally anything else. C!Wilbur is at best an Orpheus, at worst an Icarus. Phil is a psychopomp. Techno is blood or war. Push further, and Tommy is some kind of manifestation of the tragedy that comes with trying to be a hero, not to mention the literal dying bit. Tubbo is…. I can’t even get into how much Tubbo represents death and suffering. Ranboo is the same, and also died. Foolish is trying so hard to be a good man, but he isn’t a man, he’s a god of destruction, a figure of death and rebirth, and it’s coming back to bite him. BBH is a demon. Niki is closely associated with phoenix imagery.

I just don’t feel like it’s surprising, how badly the story turned out for all these characters? Like I know external factors were involved, but the symbolism never told us to expect a happy ending. None of these people were destined for peace. And I’ve got Feelings about that now

[technovillain]

I am always thinking so hard about the choice for church imagery in Hollis' mind and what it means for her character. I would say for sure that her inner-sanctum when trying to solve a crisis being a church would suggest that she is religious or had a religious upbringing.

The pews are full of figments of hospital patients. They are nondescript figures but their presence paired with her area to process is by the pulpit suggests that she sees herself as a sort of guide to others in this time, especially helping the helpless find a sense of salvation.

At the very front of this church rest the main dilemma Hollis faces, and based on her train of thought and general dialogue, it is easy to assume that this is a mental connection that she comes back to often. Risk with Death. The stained glass window behind this tableau depicts a shining sun, beneath which lies a cloud, beneath which lies a fade from blue to pink, not unlike a sunset. It could just be pretty decoration or could be indicative of the idea that just beyond any clouded idea or concept (taking a risk) there lies the possbility of an end (death).

I feel it could be argued either way that she has a positive or negative relationship with religion based on the imagery alone, but I feel it is safest and likely more accurate to simply say that it is a complicated one. We don't know anything about religion in the Psychonauts universe, which is why this choice of imagery was so fascinating to me. We have no clue what the major religions are like, or how psychic abilities would possibly play into religious affiliation or scrutiny. Not making any assumptions on that front, the symbolism of this being Hollis' safe space in her mind says that she, at the very least, sees a church building as a safe location, likely due to events in her past. She would want to come here to be alone with her thoughts, sort of like processing thoughts and seeking help for herself or others through prayer or self-reflection.

But this idea of Risk = Death being at the very center of the church could also imply a type of religious trauma that caused her to experience a form of death anxiety, barring her from knowing what risks are appropriate and therefore taking none to protect herself and others.

Despite all of this, there is another route that could be taken to interpret this symbolism that could go hand-in-hand with religious affiliation or could go unconnected. For many of those who are not religious, a church is still an important space which often reflects two major changes in a person's life: funerals or weddings.

After the hot streak section of the level, we see that the church windows now have hearts on the windows. Hollis is kneeling on the ground, something that would typically be associated with prayer, but she is gambling on the table....the table which could arguably be like a casket at the front of the church.

Another way to look at the stained glass motifs could indicate the first one being like her focusing on the idea of death as an impending inevitability to be avoided at all costs. The church being covered in hearts later on has a notably different vibe. I am reeeaching here but the first one could be more like a funeral and the later one could be more like a wedding, a time in a church that has a notably more carefree vibe than a lot of church services (although this does vary from church to church and denominationally) and Hollis does mention having a husband in one piece of dialogue relating to the socks and sandals....

Who knows! I am doing some stretching and just bringing up some symbolism. Please feel free to bring up more symbolism that you might find or other interpretations!

[mazzystar24]

Hi there! as I said before im a huge English nerd who read and annotated (in glitter gel pens) a disturbing amount of William Wordsworth at 6/7 years old, now here to infodump some poetry info for the hunger games/tbosas fans

So I think most ppl know the whole Lucy gray baird and Lucy gray song being about the poem by Wordsworth and it’s famous cryptic ending

What you may not know is that it’s not an the only poem of his that references a Lucy in fact there are MANY references to a Lucy in his poetry all grouped as “Lucy poems” HOWEVER I will add that people generally don’t group “Lucy Gray” with the rest of Lucy poems as it’s the only one with an established backrgound and the rest of Lucy poems are very different in nature (lemme explain)

In the rest she is less a distinct character more a symbol it’s actually even a debate if Lucy is even a person in the poems or just a figment of the narrators imagination it’s also debated whether the character of Lucy is a character or a literary device or even just representative of a lost muse

This is because Lucy changes in these poems constantly and is never really established in some she is interpreted as a grown woman and a lover of the narrator in some she is a child and a daughter, none of the details are ever really the same, and Wordsworth was like SUPER secretive about it like literally no one knows the true nature of the Lucy poems.

but there are consistencies; in many she is dead and the narrator is left to mourn her or the narrator talks of worrying that she will die, in most of not all she’s heavily interlinked with nature imagery and is kind of represented in a way that distincts her from others, in a way that grants her a sense of humanity only in her death

So generally it’s agreed that Lucy is simply representing any loss of a loved one rather than being her own person.

So why am I mentioning the Lucy poems when Lucy gray is seperate from them and therefore isn’t related to the name meaning of Lucy gray? Glad you (didn’t) ask:

1. The Lucy poems are very much what people would like to condense her into, the capitol doesn’t want her to be a person, doesnt want her to be distinct and characterised and only wish for her to be representative of something else even in death

2. Snow repeatedly asking if she’s dead during the games in the movie reminded me of it- kinda like how narratively she was almost a Lucy but by the end she becomes his Lucy gray not something beautiful for him to mourn but something mysterious to haunt him

3. More on my first point the most blatant thing for me that links this is that scene at the zoo where the lucky flickerman dude calls her “Lucy” to which she immediately corrects with “Lucy gray” thus establishing herself once again as a whole person rather than a to-be dead symbol (this is in the same scene at the zoo where she starts to charm the capitol and become a person in their eyes)

[lilyginnyblackv2]

The Name of Kyutaro’s Cafe is “Mistletoe.”

Yadorigi (ヤドリギ・宿り木) means “mistletoe” in Japanese.

I’m bringing this up now, because the new interview that went up on the official website (which will be linked to in the comments below) is with Kyutaro’s VA. It makes me believe that Kyutaro is going to get some focus in this week’s episode, which means that a lot of things are pretty open to exploration, given the fact that Kyutaro has some level of knowledge about:

- Miri and Misaki

- Rei’s Past & Situation (He mentioned that Rei knew how hard it was to leave an organization, likely implying Rei left his father’s organization)

- Ryo Ogino & The Death of Yuzuko

Any of these topics could come into play in Episode 8 (we may even get multiple topics overlapping and connecting to each other).

I found the VAs view on the relationship between Miri, Kazuki, and Rei to be rather interesting. He sees the dynamic less as “Parent - Child” and more as three siblings. I don’t necessarily agree with that myself, but it’s always intriguing to see others POVs on things like this. I do agree with Kyutaro’s VA when it comes to Buddy Daddies being a “human drama” in which ‘the characters grow up by overcoming the challenges and themes that are imposed on them.” BD really is all about the characters first and foremost, which is why I like it so much. I tend to be drawn to shows that are character studies with some action and drama thrown in to spice things up a bit.

This post is a bit long, so I’ll be placing the rest of this under a Read More.

Anyway, wrapping this back around to “mistletoe.” I’m sure you all are thinking about the way mistletoe is often utilized in many modern day medias (especially in the USA) - kissing under a mistletoe and its ties to Christmas in particular and the holiday season. Buddy Daddies first episode takes place on Christmas Eve, a very couples focused holiday and day in general in Japan.

But, for children around Miri’s age, there is a bit of a family aspect to Christmas. Toddlers in Japan will likely believe in Santa, and toddlers and children will likely get a gift or two.

But this time frame when Santa is real and kids get gifts is very short-lived in Japan, usually by 1st or 2nd Grade there really isn’t a belief in Santa  and the family focus is shifted away from the holiday once children start reaching pre-teen years. This is talking very generally and about children who have two Japanese parents, rather than ones that may come from families with mixed nationalities where one of the parents may come from a country where Christmas is a family focused holiday on level with New Years in Japan. 

So, I do find it interesting that Buddy Daddies chose to pick a holiday that, in Japan, is more often associated with romantic relationships, rather than familial ones, but turn their focus on the very fleeting time frame when Christmas does have a bit of a more familial air about it. 

But, at the same time, we have the imagery of Kazuki visiting The Mistletoe Cafe alone the day before Christmas Eve:

Then Kazuki and Rei meet Miri on the job, on Christmas Eve, a holiday usually reserved for couples, but which is made family focused in Buddy Daddies through Miri and her desire to see her Papa, and with the beginning of Rei, Kazuki, and Miri becoming a family (though none of them know it at the time).

And then visiting The Mistletoe Cafe with Rei the next day after their job, which is on Christmas Day:

Something which is a very rare occurrence in general for Rei (to be out and about in general, not just at the café).

Of course, mistletoe has symbolic meanings to it as well. It can also mean “surmounting difficulties” and was viewed as a plant with healing power to the Celtic people. It has also been associated with fertility, good luck, and great blessings. Kazuki and Rei learning to heal and gain some good luck back into their lives through the arrival of Miri (a child) fits into these themes well, especially since they “gain” all of these things through a job they received at The Mistletoe Cafe. 

The Japanese kanji for mistletoe is made up of the kanji 宿 (yado・ru) , which is used in words associated with inns, dwellings, homes, and even pregnancy. The other word is 木 (ki), which means “tree.” This fits because of how mistletoe make their “homes” in trees and shrubs, and this all fits with Kazuki and Rei turning their house (which is a pretty dangerous place for a kid at first) into a home.

And, finally, mistletoe is a parasitic plant.

It’s also a poisonous plant, specifically if you eat any part of the plant or if you drink tea created from the plant or its berries. So, rather an appropriate name for a café that is a front for a hitman organization. 

Anyway, that’s all. I figured I’d share this bit of information since it looks like Kyutaro’s character is going to get more focus in Episode 8, though without a preview out yet, I can’t say this with too much certainty. Just a hunch based on the interview being released (usually there is some connection made between the interview they release before the episode and the contents of the episode). If anyone has anything else they would like to add to this, please feel free! :D

[confusedraven1]

i know everyone is ripping on ed’s dramatic ass for this back piece (fair), but there’s a lot happening here & it’s incredibly clever of whoever designed this!

just a forewarning, im not a tattoo artist nor an expert on the history of tattoos, just an enthusiast with google. also, “meanings” behind tattoos, even traditional ones, are kind of muddied in the internet, not to mention the variety of cultures that have different meanings attached to different imagery, so a lot of what i find is through a white western lens, but i found what i could.

“Trust No One” — yes, that is the bit everyone is laughing at, but it’s a very common tattoo! (probably why everyone’s laughing but i digress) usually i see it paired with a biting snake handshake, but the sentiment is pretty obvious, and a clear lesson learned.

the skull is pretty self explanatory: could be the fearlessness of death, rebirth, remembrance, or a reminder. i think in ed’s case, this could be all of these things, but also to remind himself of the things he’s done and the one man he’s killed.

the spiderwebs!! i wasn’t sure if there was much meaning behind those, but i checked anyway and apparently they represent struggles that have been overcome! we can imagine there’s quite a few in ed’s life, but we also know he has some deep rooted issues to face still.

the snake is where i got hung up. a two-headed snake symbolizes transformation, rebirth, and renewal or indecision, while a traditional snake tattoo can represent potency/power, but also wisdom or rebirth. this snake (the bottom head) isn’t coiled or baring it’s teeth so that end at least isn’t on the defensive. it’s so hard to tell with the top head, but it appears that one’s jaw is closed as well. here’s where it gets interesting: i looked and looked, but i couldn’t find ANYTHING about a CRYING snake! (the closest was a crying medusa)

the snake and skull combined usually represent the cycle of life and death, but it could also show as a warning of mortality. this is also fairly self explanatory, but i figured it was worth mentioning it.

SO. i think that the snake/skull bit of the tattoo is a visual representation of how ed sees himself, or at least how he did whenever he got it (it’s much too faded to be a breakup tat. plus i’m sure he has lots of reasons to not trust ppl. stede ain’t *that* special lmao).

its a reminder of his father’s murder and how heavily it weighs on his back, permanently, despite the other things in life he overcomes. the two heads of the snake represent the two sides of himself: edward and blackbeard. in a way, he was “reborn” as blackbeard, but now he’s stuck with two identities he can’t balance. i THINK the snakes are crying because of that lack of control and mourning the way they aren’t able to continue the rebirth cycle.

and, just for funsies, the snake slithers through both eye sockets cause ed is blinded by indecision and his past actions. he doesn’t know what he wants yet, but he KNOWS that he wants something different.

AND, despite ALL OF THAT, he ironically knows that the only person he can truly rely on is himself. after all, what kind of a pirate has friends? they’re all just in various stages of fucking each other over 🏴‍☠️

MAYBE IM WRONG ABOUT THIS. maybe i’m just trying to find meaning where there is none and taika just thought that looked cool as fuck so that’s what he chose lmao

anyway, thanks for reading, i love tattoos and their history 🥰🏴‍☠️🖤

[molly-ghuleh]

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 2

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You start work on Elizabeth's diary, and finally get a good look at Papa.

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Hey hello, I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a bit of a monster, but worth it, I promise!

Warnings: Mentions of reader having religious trauma

AO3 Link / Chapter 1

~~~

You’ve been hunched over this damned diary all day. 

Sister Imperator was right. None of the Abbey’s translators or archivists would have been able to read Elizabeth’s writing because she had written in a cipher. With no spaces between words and with no obvious keyword to decipher her entries, the first page of her diary looks like nonsense. Just absolute gibberish. 

But to you, it isn’t. 

With each passing hour you spend at a small table in the restricted room, you admire Elizabeth more and more. She was smart as a whip and even more clever. You figure that, if she wanted her diary to be kept secret, she could have simply destroyed it. Burnt it, ripped it, buried it, dipped the whole thing in black ink—anything surely would have been easier than creating a cipher which has no discernable pattern. 

She didn’t destroy it, though. She wrote on each page, front and back until the entire book was filled, and then she hid it. If something is truly never meant to be found, it won’t be. Which leads you to believe Elizabeth’s diary isn’t a diary at all. It’s a record. 

A record of what, you have yet to be sure. It is secret enough for Elizabeth to want it to be discovered someday, but only after she is long gone. That intrigues you enough to sit hour after hour over this book, trying every word you can think of that might be the key to the cipher. So far you have crossed off ‘Satan’, ‘Lucifer’, ‘Beelzebub’, and other aliases of the Dark One. You hadn’t expected those to work, because Elizabeth seems smarter than that, but you had to try just to rule them out. You also tried words like ‘chapel’, ‘altar’, and other imagery of the Satanic Ministry, with no luck. You thought perhaps the first five letters of the entry were the key to the second five, or vice versa. You tried again with the first six letters, the first two, three, four. Nothing. 

The only words you have been able to read are the dates of each entry, the month and the day, which she wrote in the top-left corner in plain English. Those were not much of an accomplishment to decipher.

You sigh and sit up straight for a moment. Your back is sore after hours of slouching and writing. The once-crisp notebook under your pen is nearly half full of incorrect keywords and mistranslations. The small window on the far wall of the restricted room has grown dark and no sounds echo to you from the hollow of the atrium. 

You’d gotten up to find something to eat (and to uncross your eyes) during the dinner hour. Tonight you opted for a hot meal but decided not to stay in the refectory. You don’t know if food is even allowed in the library but all the Siblings who work there were at dinner, so you snuck it in anyways. You aren’t careless, though, so you ate your dinner at a different table, far away from the one where Elizabeth’s diary and your notebook sit open. That had been a few hours ago. 

As far as you can tell from the small window in the door, the lights in the library have been dimmed for the night. No one came and fetched you to tell you that it was closing, so you assume it stays open at all hours. Your own desk lamp is the only source of light in the restricted room. 

You rise from your workstation and move towards the closed door. Such an enclosed room tends to get stuffy and humid, and it’s still too chilly outside to open a window. You gently prop open the door to let in the relatively fresh air of the library. No one said you couldn’t keep the door open when you’re inside the room, only that the door must be locked when you aren’t. 

Returning to your desk, you can already feel the cooler air drifting through the bookshelves. You’re content to work for a few more hours like this. It feels wrong to give up for the night when you have nothing to show yet. It feels wrong to stop working when you have something to prove, and somewhere to return. 

The night here is eerily silent. At home in Marseille, if you open your dormitory window and sit on the end of your bed to look out over the water, you can hear the soft lapping of water against the marina docks. If the wind carries just right, you can also hear the creaking of masts and cables as the sailboats list back and forth in the water. Sometimes the gulls stay out at night during the summer months, calling for one another from their perches on a bow pulpit. The breeze carries the saltiness of the water and the sweetness of the hillside wildflowers into your dormitory, illuminated only by a small desk lamp and the moon—

A sound from outside the room breaks you from your reverie. Your consciousness whips back to the present, to the Abbey. The ghostly scent of salt and flowers fades, replaced by old leather and dust and ink from your pen. 

You raise your eyes to look through the open door when you hear another sound. There’s no one visible to you—whoever they are must be between shelves, looking for a late-night romance novel to put them to sleep. 

You haven’t figured out why the romance section is so tucked away yet. Though, perhaps if erotica is shelved nearby, the librarians would want any wandering hands to stay hidden. Not that lust is shameful here—it’s the Satanic Ministry, it’s actually encouraged—but the library is not the place to get hot and heavy. 

Knowing that someone is nearby distracts you terribly, and you decide to stop for the night. The little analog clock hanging next to the door reads past midnight. At this hour, you likely won’t get much done anyway. You need sleep and a proper breakfast to let your mind work. 

You take the time to gently wrap Elizabeth’s diary in the white linen and return it to its lockbox. The rest of your things don’t take long to gather, having only brought the one notebook and a few pens, plus your empty dinner box. You close the door behind you as you exit, fishing through your habit pocket to find the key. It and the key to your dormitory are affixed to a single keyring which jingles as you fumble with it one-handed, but you lock the door successfully and turn to make your way to the staircase. 

Rather, you try to make your way. 

As soon as you turn around, a figure emerges from the bookshelves. You promptly run into him, which sends your materials to the floor and your mind reeling with apologies. “Oh, je suis vraiment désolé—Er, I’m so sorry!” you bluster, holding your now-empty hands out to plead for forgiveness. You kneel to gather your things into a messy pile, then stand and finally meet the eyes of the poor soul you’d accosted with your body. “I should have been more careful, but it’s late so I thought…” 

They’re the same eyes you’d met yesterday, in the refectory. Still striking, still surrounded by black, but up-close and more relaxed. And no white paint. Just the black upper lip and the black eyes of Papa Emeritus the Fourth. 

“It’s, eh, it’s quite alright, Sister,” Papa says with an awkward little laugh. You notice he’s not wearing his robes or his mitre. In fact he’s not wearing anything that might remotely indicate that he’s the Antipope. He wears a simple black t-shirt and red sweatpants, and gray fuzzy slippers that have the eyes and whiskers and pink nose of a rat which you thought looked cute when you’d knelt down. 

But he’s still Papa, and you still barreled into him like a brute. 

You try to smile but it feels more like a grimace. “Still, I shouldn’t have just…” you gesture with your free arm. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” 

Papa pats his chest like he’s searching for injuries. You hit him hard, but not that hard, and it makes you laugh softly. “I’m fine. Quite good. Still in one piece,” he says. “Are you? And why are you here so late?”

You blush. “Oh, does the library close at night? I’m sorry, no one came and told me, I just assumed…” 

“No, no,” Papa reassures you, waving a hand in front of himself. “No, it doesn’t close. But it’s usually empty at this time of night, you see.” 

You nod in understanding. “It is pretty late.” 

“It is,” Papa echoes. “So… pardon my asking, Sorella, but why are you still awake?”

“I was, um,” you try to explain, looking down at the messy pile of translation work cradled in the crook of your elbow. “I was working on Elizabeth’s diary, but it may take longer than I expected.”

Papa’s face seems to light up at your mention of your work. “Oh! Forgive me, yes, I should have known,” he rushes out. “You are the, eh, visitor? From Marseille?”

You nod and give him your name. He repeats it softly to himself, as if to remember it. You doubt he will, but you won’t hold it against him—there are many, many Siblings at the Abbey and many names to remember. So if he manages to distinguish you from the rest of the crowd, you will be pleasantly surprised. Not to say you don’t have faith that he could, but… well. You’re running yourself in circles. 

He narrows his eyes slightly, but pauses for a moment. “I saw you yesterday, at dinner,” he tells you. 

So much for not remembering a face in the crowd. You mentally kick yourself. 

“Ah, yes,” you chuckle nervously. “I’m not the biggest crowd person.” Papa chuckles. “Yes, I noticed. To be honest, neither am I.” 

That’s hard to believe, coming from him. To be Papa is to be a figurehead, a symbol of unwavering faith and devotion to the Olde One which the entire Satanic Ministry worships. One must be a bit of a crowd pleaser in order to be successful in his position. “It doesn’t seem that way, Papa,” you tell him. “You command a room very well, from what I’ve heard.” 

A smug little grin grows on Papa’s lips, and it suits him. Smiling suits him. “So word of my immense charisma has traveled all the way to Marseille, yes?” he asks, mostly teasing. But a small lilt in his voice betrays that he really does wonder. What does this foreign Sister think of him based on word of mouth alone? And does his person size up to his reputation? 

You laugh. “It has,” you say. “Forgive me if I have a hard time believing you are uncomfortable in a crowd.” 

Papa tuts his tongue, his grin growing into a fond smile. “You should have seen my brother.” There’s a small sparkle of reminiscence in his eye as he says this, and you wonder which of the three other Papas he speaks of. You’ve heard different stories about all of them. 

His eyes drop to the papers and notebook in your arm, then back up to your face. “But, eh, you are settling in well, Sorella?” he asks. 

You can tell he wants to change the subject, so you let him. “Yes, Papa, thank you,” you smile. 

“That’s not very convincing.” 

You release an airy laugh and drop your head. He can see right through you. “It’s very different here,” you say. “Marseille is… small. Cozy. Secluded. Not to say that I don’t like it here, because it really is very nice—”

“It’s crowded,” Papa cuts you off. It’s soft, and not intended to be rude, but to agree with you. “And big. I understand.”

Your shoulders drop, but you hadn’t realized they were raised in the first place. “It’s not home,” you find yourself admitting. 

He nods. “And so you work late into the night because you do not want to sleep in an unfamiliar bed.” 

You stare at him for another beat. He seems to know what you’re feeling even before you do, because yes, your bed here isn’t the same as the one back home, and suddenly you’re very close to crying. Don’t cry, don't cry, don't cry…

“May I tell you something, in confidence?” Papa asks. His voice is low and gentle. It soothes you. His eyes search your own, flicking back and forth between them, and you begin to understand how this slightly awkward man in rat slippers is able to enrapture an entire chapel of people. 

You nod. 

“I miss being a Cardinal,” he tells you. “Truly, I do. Becoming Papa has been the only goal I can ever remember having, ever since I was old enough to care. But as soon as I ascended I…” He pauses. His mouth opens and closes, like he’s trying to decide whether or not he should finish his thought. 

He sighs. “What I mean to say is, There is no shame in missing where you used to be.”

You hold his gaze for another long moment, wondering what it is he was going to say. His words linger in the silence between you and you let them. As soon as he became Papa he… what? 

“Thank you, Papa,” you say quietly. The moment feels almost intimate, like he’d confided his biggest secret to you. But for all you know, he tells every Sibling he comes across the same thing. It’s his duty to counsel everyone under his roof, visitors included. 

No, you chastise yourself. Papa doesn’t seem like the kind of man to have practiced lines for serendipitous meetings… but you are still learning not to assume the worst of people. You had been far too young when you learned not to trust anyone, even those deserving of it. But Papa… he seems genuine, and it’s all you can do (for yourself and for him) to believe that he is. 

You realize that this is the natural end of your conversation. That now is when you should say goodnight, nice to meet you, see you around, but you don’t want to. You can’t tell if it’s because you’ve been on your own all day, or because it’s late and you’re tired, or because the air around him seems to grow warmer and more… comfortable. Papa radiates an aura of peace that you haven’t felt since you received Sister Imperator’s letter nearly a week ago.

“If I may ask, Papa,” you start, just as the silence begins to grow awkward, “what are you doing awake at this hour?”

Papa’s eyes turn down, and a small smile graces his lips. “Ah, I was just looking for something to read,” he says, and you nearly laugh at yourself for asking such an obvious question. Of course he’s looking for something to read. The two of you are standing deep in the bowels of the library. 

Oh, who are you kidding? Papa likely came here to find a book in peace, not speak to some foreign Sister. Who are you to keep his attention? 

“I see,” you say, in your practiced voice. “Well. Good luck, and I hope you find something, Papa.” 

Before you can blurt out any more feelings to him, you turn and walk briskly towards the winding staircase that leads you to the first floor. 

~~~

Copia watches you retreat, slightly confused and halfway ready to call your name to make you stay. Something had changed in your demeanor just before you left, and he wants to ask if you’re alright, or if he said something wrong and caused you to close yourself off like that. Was it his little comment about missing the past? No, no, it couldn’t be—your eyes had been wide and searching, but you weren’t offended. Your brow had furrowed but not out of disgust. 

He’s not as clueless as most people think he is. Just because he has a hard time finding the right words to say what he’s thinking doesn’t mean he’s stupid. In fact, Copia prides himself on his ability to read people. His ability to speak as eloquently as he does in his head… that’s another story. 

When he’d first seen you in the refectory yesterday, you had already been looking right at him. He was curious about the straggler who’d wandered in so timidly. Your face isn’t one he’d seen around the Abbey. If he had, he would’ve remembered you because frankly, you’re striking. 

Copia doesn’t know why he hadn’t connected the dots sooner. It seems obvious that a brand new Sister should appear only weeks after Sister Imperator mentions bringing someone in to translate the document that had been found. Your presence had been a single talking point during some meeting or another, and if he’s perfectly honest, most Clergy meetings seem to blend together into nonsensical mush when he thinks back on them. Your mention of Elizabeth’s diary had reminded him of a few vague details. But the rest of that discussion, unsurprisingly, slips his mind. 

He finds himself feeling guilty. He’d been at that meeting, he knows for certain. The paperwork to confirm your temporary transfer had landed on his desk and he’d signed it. He must have. Your file must have been sent over from Marseille ahead of your arrival, why hadn’t he seen it?

Copia runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. He should have welcomed you to the Abbey himself. He should have sought you out and personally offered his hospitality, because he knows what it’s like to be across the world from home. He knows how lost and alone you feel. He’d felt it himself, after he transferred to the Abbey as a newly-appointed Cardinal. 

I miss being a Cardinal, he’d told you. And it’s true, he does, but he misses being an Archbishop more. He held less sway within the Satanic Ministry as an Archbishop, but he was allowed to stay in Italy. His home. 

As soon as he’d ascended to the rank of Cardinal, Sister Imperator had called him to the Abbey as a permanent transfer. Sure, his brothers had all been transferred from Italy one by one as they were called up to the Papacy, so he had family at the Abbey. But they had all been busy, constantly, and so had he. 

You’d told him you miss home, and a very strange, very tender part of him wants to comfort you. 

~~~

You replay your conversation with Papa all the way back to your dormitory. Stupide, stupide, stupide… 

He told you that he’s not much of a crowd person, and then you go and tell him that his Abbey doesn’t feel cozy enough for you? And you nearly knocked him over in your haste to return to a bed that you told him isn’t as good as the one in Marseille. What a way to thank him for opening his home to you! Thanks, Papa, but here are all the reasons why your Abbey sucks.

“Fille stupide,” you mutter to yourself. The sound echoes off the walls of the dark, empty corridor. The wall sconces are dark for the night, so the only illumination comes in the form of pale blue stripes of moonlight along the tiled floor. 

When you finally reach your dormitory and softly shut the door behind you, you take a moment to breathe. You’d been walking rather briskly in order to get back. Your fingers clench so tightly on the edge of your notebook that your fingernails are white, and your joints creak as you release your hold. The slap of the spiral-bound book seems loud when you drop it onto the small desk below the window, reverberating around the room. There are no posters, no tapestries, no curtains to absorb the sound like there are at home. 

You loathe the sound. You loathe the echoes. You loathe the tip-tapping of heels on the pristine floors of the Abbey. You loathe the muffled sounds of laughter coming from a dormitory a few doors down. You loathe how desperately you want to find something to hold onto here, something that feels personal. And you loathe how you crave familiarity despite the fact that you’ll return to Marseille as soon as that little book is translated. 

You practically rip your habit off—a habit that is uniform in France, but sets you apart here—in favor of your sleep clothes. Climbing into the small bed, you begin to recite your prayer in every language you know. It’s a habit you’d developed as soon as you began learning a second language at the ripe age of nine. Only then, the prayers had been directed at the cruel, unforgiving Catholic God. 

Salut Satan, notre Ténébreux juste et indulgent…. Ave Satana, il nostro Tenebroso giusto e indulgente…. Salve Satanás, nuestro justo y perdonador Oscuro…. 

You continue until you’ve exhausted all the languages you know, and then you start over again with a different prayer. And again. And again, until somewhere in the middle of your Portuguese Hail Lilith you drift to sleep. 

~~~

You wake the next morning in a much better mood. Perhaps last night you’d just been frustrated and overtired from working from dawn til far past dusk, but the bright birdsong from outside sounds happier today. It follows you from your dormitory, down the corridor and to the main hall, where the sounds of the breakfast hour echo out into the large space. 

You could walk into the refectory if you wanted, without feeling intimidated (at least not as much as the day you arrived), but you don’t have much of an appetite this morning. Instead you take your time walking the length of the main hall. There are sculptures in spaces between the wood benches that you hadn’t noticed before. You find one you recognize, and it doesn’t surprise you that the Abbey houses a replica. 

La génie du mal is a welcome sight. The Marseille Abbey also keeps a replica, although it is slightly smaller than this one. It’s a depiction of a fallen angel chained to a rock, with a crown held loosely in one hand while the other runs through his hair. His stone face is solemn but the bat-like wings splaying from his back seem to welcome you, as if saying, Hello child, do you remember me? 

Yes, you do remember. You remember being eleven years old and traveling to Liège at the whim of your parents. You remember touring Saint Paul’s Cathedral and pretending to marvel at the Catholic imagery that you didn’t understand (or care for) at the time. Every depiction of Jesus on the cross looked the same. Every statue of a veiled Mother Mary reminded you to be chaste and pure and subservient to a God who thinks you a lesser being. 

And then you’d seen him in the chapel of the Cathedral, placed at the back of a pulpit which wrapped around a stone pillar. The four sculptures of saints (whose names you don’t bother to remember) stood at the front of the pulpit, facing in towards the pews, as if standing guard over the sculpture. La génie du mal was tucked into the back, hidden from view, but you knew something must have been there. Why else would not one, but four saints be guarding a single pillar, when there were dozens lining the interior of the chapel? 

So you’d slipped from the watchful eye of your parents while they were distracted by the tour guide, and rounded the pulpit to see the backside. He was there, carved in white marble and stationed in the niche between two curved staircases. The elaborate stained-glass windows cast speckles of yellow, blue, and violet over his body, and he glowed in the sunlight like he was a real angel fallen to Earth right in front of you. 

You visited him a lot, afterwards.

You learned later that the pulpit was commissioned to represent “The Triumph of Religion over the Genius of Evil,” but you thought—and still think—that it was executed rather poorly. The four statues facing inward protect only the Cathedral from La génie du mal, but he, facing outward towards the windows, can see the rest of the world. Anyone looking into the chapel for refuge or guidance would only see him, colorful and bright, through the holy scenes of the stained glass. 

You jump nearly ten feet in the air when a voice beside you snaps you from your thoughts. “Beautiful, isn’t he?” 

You look to your left and catch the mismatched eyes of Papa. You hadn’t even heard him come up beside you. “Oui—ah, yes,” you say, swiftly correcting your French to English. 

“You know,” Papa says, looking back to the marble replica, “the original was commissioned because the first version of it was too, eh, sexy.” 

You do know, but the fact makes you laugh anyway. “The first version is nothing compared to this. It makes me think that the artist made this version even sexier, just to spite the Catholics. And to avenge his brother.” 

Papa turns to you fully now, with his hands clasped behind his back. He wears a smart black suit adorned with an elaborate grucifix on the lapel. It’s a far cry from the sweatpants and t-shirt from last night, but no less comfortable. You can’t help but notice that the suit is tailored to perfection. 

“His brother?” he asks. 

You nod. “The original sculptor was the younger brother of this artist,” you explain, gesturing to La génie. “It’s a bit of a slap in the face for them to ask his own brother to redo his work. I can imagine they both felt a little slighted.”  

Papa chuckles. “Perhaps just a little.” 

A brief pause falls between the two of you, and you begin to wonder just how long it will take for the silence to grow awkward. So far you haven’t reached that point. Not with Papa, at least. 

“It would have been nice to have the original piece,” Papa says unhurriedly. “I can’t imagine the Catholic Church would have agreed to let us buy it.” 

You turn to look at him briefly, letting out a small laugh. “If the price was high enough, I’m sure they would have,” you say with an almost imperceptible edge of bitterness. “But I do think its place at Liège is where it belongs.” 

“Have you been?” Papa asks you, his eyebrows slightly raised as he turns to meet your gaze. 

“I have,” you answer. You don’t elaborate further on the nature of your visit. “That’s not to say I don’t believe it would have a good home here, Papa. I just think that the irony of its placement is lost on the Catholics.” 

He asks about it, and you explain. His eyes never leave your face as you talk. You don’t feel scrutinized like you had under Sister Imperator’s gaze, though. Papa’s eyes are warm and interested and you could swear they almost glow in the morning light. He nods and hums with each point you make, seeming genuinely intrigued by your argument that La génie holds more influence facing outward rather than inwards. 

It’s a subject you’re passionate about. La génie had set you on a path towards the Satanic Ministry that day. By age eleven you already knew you didn’t want to be Catholic despite your parents’ efforts to instill their beliefs on you, but you didn’t know exactly what you believed in. Until you saw him, solemn and still, his magnificence hidden behind a stone pillar at Liège. 

Despite Papa’s careful listening, you realize you must be rambling and cut yourself off. “Sorry, Papa. I don’t mean to talk your ear off.” 

“Oh, no!” Papa says, shaking his head. “No need to apologize, Sister. I enjoy listening to you speak.” 

Heat blossoms over your cheeks. You almost miss how his own face flushes a slight shade of pink. Almost. 

“Eh, I mean—” Papa begins to fiddle with his own fingers. “What I mean to say is that you make a lot of good points. Yes.” 

It’s obvious that he’s nervous over the comment he made. It was straightforward and a little flirty, and you know that in the bright hall he can most likely see the pink beneath your skin. Maybe he hadn’t meant for it to come out quite so… well, flirty. Or maybe he thinks he overstepped a boundary, that he said something he shouldn’t have? It was just a comment about listening to you talk, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Satan, why are you so flustered all the sudden? 

You give him a small smile. “Either way… thank you, Papa. I should, uh—”

“Yes, me too—”

“Right, have a good day,” you say, a bit quicker than is necessary, and turn on your heel to start towards the library. 

~~~

Once again, Copia finds himself watching you go. 

Rationally, he knows that you’re not upset with him. You didn’t leave because of something he’d said or done that made you uncomfortable. If that was the case, he hopes that you’d tell him. He would hate for you to feel unwelcome or upset, especially because of him. 

But oh, how your eyes shone while you spoke about La génie. 

Hearing footsteps approaching from his right, Copia turns and finds Terzo looking rather smug as he strolls towards him. He wears a big, stupid grin on his face and looks at Copia like he’d just discovered the stash of sweets on the bottom drawer of his bedside table. 

“And who was that?” Terzo asks with feigned innocence. He comes to a stop next to Copia and clasps his hands behind his back. They both stare at La génie. 

Copia chews the inside of his cheek. “Who was who?” 

Terso tuts his tongue. “Oh, don’t be coy with me, fratellino. We both know I’m talking about the Sister you were just ogling.” “I wasn’t ogling,” Copia protests. Terzo is always teasing, always nudging, always subtly poking fun at him for no reason other than he finds it fun. That’s what little brothers are for, Terzo says. To poke fun at, and to teach the ways of the world. “And we both know that you know who she is.” 

“Ah, yes, I do know,” Terzo says with a shrug. “But I wanted to hear what you had to say.”

Copia looks at his brother. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Terzo says, “you seemed quite invested in that conversation just now. And then you turned a very obvious shade of red, and she walked away. Forgive me, I’m a gossip.” 

Copia laughs. “There’s nothing to gossip about, Terzo. She told me about this sculpture and where the original is housed. That’s it.” 

Terzo tilts his head, leaning in slightly. “That does not explain why you both were so red in the face, fratellino.” 

Copia sighs and runs a hand through his hair. So it was obvious, even from down the hall. “I… may have said that I like listening to her speak.” 

“Oh,” Terzo says flatly. He sounds almost disappointed. “I thought you might have told her something else.” 

“What? Why?” Copia asks. “Was that a weird thing to say?” 

Terzo chuckles, shaking his head. “No. It’s a perfectly good compliment. But you both turned so red that I thought you invited her to your chambers.” 

Copia nearly chokes on his own saliva. “Wh–what?” he sputters. “Terzo, I barely know her.”

“Well, I wouldn’t think so with the way you were looking at her!” Terzo says, his voice pitched higher to his own defense. “‘My darling, you speak so beautifully, it is like birdsong in the early morning. I simply cannot resist the way you look—’” 

“Stop—”

“‘—in the sunlight. Your eyes shine so brightly and your mouth moves so gracefully—’” 

“Terzo, I—”

“‘—that I can’t help but wonder what it might feel like on my—’” 

“Okay,” Copia throws his hands up. He storms off towards the refectory for breakfast. 

Terzo’s laugh echoes through the main hall as he jogs to catch up with Copia. “What? I’m only saying what I thought you said.” 

Copia hadn’t said any of those things to you, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t thought them. It’s true; your eyes did shine in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and your mouth did move gracefully. Although those parts of you are attractive to him and he’d readily admit that you’re beautiful, it was the way you spoke that caught him. You seemed to forget your timidness, your reservations. You spoke freely and enthusiastically, like you’d forgotten you were speaking to Papa and instead spoke to a friend. Copia wonders if La génie holds some significance to you outside of just being an interesting sculpture. 

Copia resolves to ask you the next time he sees you, and he finds himself hoping that it’s soon.

[chiefexecutiveofnir]

Elden Ring DLC Speculation

I have been thinking about the DLC story trailer for some time, and have gathered most of my thoughts into something semi-coherent. 

Immediately I noticed the words “Seduction”, “Affair”, and “Born”. Now, those words could be metaphorical, but the imagery suggests something more literal. I can’t find who mentioned it first, but someone pointed out that presumably Marika is pulling golden threads out of what looks like a pregnant belly, and someone else pointed out that those threads seem to make up the top of the Elden Ring. 

Now, if current Marika houses the Elden Ring inside her body, it stands to reason whoever had the Elden Ring first might also have had it in their body. 

So here is where my theory starts taking shape: someone has the Elden Ring inside them and Marika wants to get it out, so she seduces this person and then rips the Elden Ring out of their unborn child. 

Another thing I noticed, Godfrey is not mentioned anywhere, which is interesting because you would think he was the leader of Marika’s armies. Unless Marika was not married to him yet, which would bring into question who is Messemer’s father? Does he have none, and instead was born from only Marika. Or, is he the child born from this “Seduction” and “Affair”. 

In the gameplay reveal trailer he says “Mother, wouldst thou truely Lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light?” 

I have seen it speculated that he was referring to the Tarnished, but what if he was referring to himself instead? What if he had all light and gold ripped out of him, instead “so too was Shadow born”. 

A collection of other relevant things:

Marika walks through a bloody environment full of flailing bodies and hands, which reminded me of the Serpent of Blasphemy. 

The body wall also is shaped similar to a tree.

The pregnant belly looks like it is wrapped in thick skin, but the skin also looks tailored.

Messemer is depicted without his left eye.

The two prominent symbols of Messemer are snakes and fire.

Melina has her left eye closed, is burned and bodiless, and was born at the foot of the Erd Tree.

That’s right, baby, I am bringing back my favourite pet theory.

To, sum up, Marika seduced the Gloam-Eyed Queen, parented Messemer and Melina with her. G-E Queen gets eaten by the Serpent of Blasphemy. Leaving Marika with the Elden Ring, but also splitting the world with her betrayal. Messemer is born graceless, with connections to fire and snakes, a literal testament to Marika’s sins. Melina is destined to burn the Erd Tree down, having been born during its bloody creation. 

Does it change some theories I’ve had in the past? Yes. 

Is it the most logical theory ever? No.

Do I absolutely love it? Definitely yes.

I will hopefully continue to finesse the theory in the following days. 

[sporesgalaxy]

hi. quastion. i experience religious based delusions that sometimes get made worse when i watch stuff thats about religion (mostly christianity) or has religious undertones/subtext/Whatever (i.e. i cant watch good omens bc itd Do Things to me), if i was interested in getting into trigun should i be careful about this.

Okay so it varies between 1998, Stampede, and Maximum (the manga). Mostly: Yes do be careful. Less so with the animes, though? Sorta? But it depends on your threshhold, which I don't know. Details about each below

•••

Trigun (1998 anime): One major character carries around a giant cross shaped gun all the time. He is a preist, but this is played for laughs mostly; he describes it as a "trade" and seems to just be trying to use confessional as an excuse to raise money for an orphanage. At one point he very truly genuinely prays to God in desperation, and on a few other occassions he offhandedly says Christian ritual phrases. In a flashback, some symbolic parallels are drawn to the Garden of Eden although no characters make the comparison. As far as I can remember, no serious supernatural things occur that are genuinely attributed to Christian entities. It is primarily sci-fi focused. The Angel imagery is very limited, as we only see a battery being one time and it is...not super well drawn. They are mostly offscreen. Vash and Knives' transformations are limited to one arm each. The arm appears to have angelic-looking beings on it when transformed, but they look more like statues than genuine living creatures.

Okay Im goin off of memory here so if I missed anything people should feel free to comment etc.

So you didn't mention if it's holy or unholy stuff or both that sets you off, but I'll mention that none of the Trigun adaptations have demons in them. Demons ARE referred to metaphorically, but no literal demons or truly demon-like supernatural entities appear. The monsters are all explicitly man-made, excluding the alien bugs, but those are just bugs not demons. Anyways. Knives is often likened visually to a fallen angel, but not a demon.

Trigun Stampede (newer anime): Cross gun guy is still there, but his devotion to God is depicted as even less genuine (mostly unacknowledged). This one also uses stereotypical religious cult tropes. We hear someone on the radio preach about doomsday in Christian-like terms, and Knives is addressed by his followers as a messiah. There is one instance where a child sacrifice dies, and it miraculously changes the weather; the cult responsible seems like an offshoot of Christianity. Knives and Vash are referred to by their caretaker as angels sent by God in a flashback. There are angel-like wings sprouted by Vash and Knives in the finale. The Angel-like battery beings look much more like normal non-holy aliens in this one.

Trigun Maximum (the manga): the MOST Christian. Cross Gun guy is still there. Has his desperate genuine prayer to God moment. The battery beings look VERY much like Angels, are likened to angels by characters repeatedly with what reads as genuine reverence, and they have incredibly strong, miraculous-seeming supernatural powers that we see demonstrated multiple times. These beings are stated to have been created by humans somehow, but they are often treated as miraculous and inscrutable by humans in the present because the science that created them has been lost. Even in flashbacks, it is implied that these beings are not fully understood by human scientists, giving their apparent "miraculousness" more weight. There is a scene where Vash is extremely depressed, watchingna sermon in a church, and he wonders how God could ever forgive him. The angel imagery in the finale is cranked up to 11, as many supernatural ohenomena are caused by the angel-like battery beings, as well as Knives and Vash in angelic winged forms.

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 4

Summary: Bobby has been dealing with a lot of guilt ever since you went into rehab. Now that you're finally getting released, she's determined to make it up to you.

Two chapters in one day! Let's go! Check out the other parts here. The Smiling Critters Space Riders AU belongs to @onyxonline. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injury, Trauma, Death mentions, Mentions of assassination attempts, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Self harm Attempt, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Brief Anxiety Attack, Slight cursing, LOTS of negative thoughts, Implied Abuse, Conditioning

----------

Bobby woke up and shot herself out of bed before her alarm could finish its first beep. She puts on her uniform, goes through her usual routine, and finishes by the time everyone else wake up. The other riders exchange worried glances amongst each other but they say nothing to Bobby.

Today’s the day the riders pick you up from the treatment center so you can continue to serve your sentence with them. Sure, serving your sentence in the same station where they kept the other prisoners would seem like the obvious choice, if you were any other enemy to the galaxy, that is. But the fact is, you’re not, and Commander Ludwig isn’t sure just how many more break-ins he and the medical staff are able to handle.

Of course, word would get around that the Prototype’s archangel was being confined at HQ’s treatment center. To no one’s surprise, anyone with a vendetta and a craving for bloodshed, would try to find you and your cell. You never got hurt, at least. No extra security measures are enough to dissuade them it seems.

Bobby gets herself situated in the cockpit, glancing back and forth between the starry scenery, the clock on the wall, and the navigation tab open in front of Dogday. She sighs while absent-mindedly bouncing her leg hard enough to turn the couch into a massage chair.

“Are you sure you want to come with us, Bobby?” Dogday’s concerned voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “It’s okay if you want to stay behind while we get (Y/n). There’s no pressure. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Bobby gives her best reassuring, confident smile.

“Dogday, I appreciate your concern, but I can’t avoid (Y/n) forever. I have to face them eventually. And I really do want to see them.”

There is a brief moment of silence before Dogday sighs, nods, and goes back to piloting the ship. Bobby goes back to glancing out the window, her smile quickly disappearing.

She didn’t lie. She really wanted to visit you. Just once. Everyone else has visited you at least a few times, but Bobby couldn’t even find the courage to visit you after what happened in your old prison cell. None of her teammates held it against her, but she sure as heck did. She's a trained medic for crying out loud! She shouldn't have been acting hysterical the way she was, especially when you needed her the most. She's dealt with blood and injuries before. She's dealt with a few mentally unstable cultists during her time as a Space Rider. She's even helped out people in similar situations like you before.

No!

She has to remember that she may not have been much help during such a critical moment, but help came to you on time. You’re surrounded by trained medics and from what the other riders have told her, you’ve been recovering well in the treatment center. That's what matters!

Part of her, however, still holds onto the fear that if she visited your cell, she would find you all bloody and on the edge of death again. Some nights, she would have nightmares about that.

What if it happens today?

Soon enough, they arrive at the Space Station. Straightening her uniform and taking a deep breath, Bobby follows Dogday into the station. Thankfully, the treatment center was close to the hangars. It made the transporting of the injured easier for everyone.

The pair stop at the entrance. Dogday looks back at Bobby with a reassuring smile, gesturing back to the hangars. Bobby returns the smile, more sincere and determined this time. She shakes her head and stares at the neon sign above the entrance. She is going to see you today and she will not back down.

Not this time nor any time going forward.

Dogday nods in understanding, and the pair make their way inside. They check in and wait which didn't take long. Dogday sees you first, and greets you warmly. Bobby turns to where her captain was looking and there you were.

You walk out the hallway with two riders and a doctor. Bobby frowns upon seeing the handcuffs on you. She hated the idea of you being locked in a cell while needing to be hospitalized. Sure, you’ve done terrible things, and you served a terrible being, but you must’ve had a good reason. Call her crazy but she believes there is some good in you.

The riders hand Bobby your bag and stand at attention while the doctor and Dogday discuss your treatment plan going forward. Bobby tries to pay attention, but finds herself too busy staring at you. In her defense, how can she not? She's seeing you for the first time in six months.

She was ACTUALLY seeing you without any bandages, bruises, cuts, or that awful mask you always wore. For the first time, Bobby is seeing the real you, the one everyone called the Archangel. Her teammates were right about you. Not only do you look healthier, but you just look...

Beautiful.

Like...

REALLY beautiful.

You glance her way, and she smiles and waves (albeit very awkwardly). You nod in her direction and turn your focus back to the conversation between Dogday and the doctor.

Oh god, this is awkward.

After a brief exchange of thank you's and goodbyes from both sides, Bobby and Dogday quickly escort you back to the ship.

----------

You internally breathe a sigh of relief the moment you entered the Space Riders’ ship. You weren’t sure how much longer you could handle all those eyes glancing your way. You were waiting for someone to come out of the shadows some way and finish you off just like those intruders that try to break into your cell.

Now that thought made you tense up again despite it being only you and the eight Space Riders in this ship. You couldn't sense any other energies in the ship, but that didn't ease your racing mind one bit. Who knows what the Space Riders will do to you now that they are not forced to follow social protocols?

You still have those damn power mufflers on you. Sure, that shouldn't stop you from fighting, but not only are you surrounded by four riders who have celestial powers, but you're surrounded by four non-celestial riders who, unfortunately, handle themselves well in combat. Unless you can outsmart all eight of them and break your power mufflers in the process, you don't see yourself winning this fight. It's best to be smart about all this.

"Okay, so, first things first, welcome back, (Y/n). We're happy that you're here with us," the Captain begins while clasping his hands together, making you stand straight at full attention. "It's okay, relax. It's just introductions. Nothing formal."

You're not sure if this is supposed to be a test or not, but you would rather not risk failing it when you just got here. You continue to stand at full attention, waiting for the Captain to continue. The Captain sighs, and clears his throat before continuing

"Anyways, I know there's a lot to do and discuss, and you probably have some questions. Don't worry, we'll get to that in time. But since this is your first day back, I think it would be best to try and get you settled in. I can show you where you'll be staying and-"

"Actually," interrupted Bobby, "I can show (Y/n) where they'll be staying."

"Are you sure?" the Captain asks with hesitation in his voice.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure."

The only response she is met with is silence. You wait for something to happen: an argument, physical discipline, a speech, or a fair sentence. You never saw the Captain incorporate the type of punishments that the Prototype did.

At least in public anyways.

But now that he is no longer in the public eye, you're not sure if you're ready to witness the truth for the first time, but you prepare yourself for it anyways. Instead, to your surprise, the first thing the Captain does is take the handcuffs off you, but not the power mufflers.

"Okay, if you're sure."

Bobby cheerfully thanks the Captain and escorts you to the direction of the prison cells. You reach the entrance leading to the prison cells, but Bobby just... passes it. Did she not pay attention to where she was going? Why is she passing it?

You want to ask, but you force yourself to keep quiet. She could be looking to punish you for making her suffer with your selfishness. That’s why she never visited you during your rehabilitation. Instead, she leads you to the riders’ sleeping quarters and into one sleeping quarter that you know was never occupied. All the furniture arranged was as you remember it from previous battles except the bed is now neatly made.

“Here we are. Your new room. It’s not much, but I think it’ll be a nice change of environment for you after being hospitalized for almost a year.”

Not much? This is a lot more than what you see in the sleeping quarters back home. This is much more than the cells you were in for the last several months. If this isn’t “much” to the heretics, then what does having a lot look like to them?

“Crafty and I made some clothes for you. She noticed you like having your head covered, so we made you a lot of hoodies.”

You silently take in every little detail of the room.

“This is all mine?”

“Yes, it is. We weren’t sure how you wanted your room decorated, but we’ll figure that out over time.” Why would it matter how you wanted to decorate this room?  At least the Space Riders are giving you, their prisoner, one in the first place. It’s selfish to ask for more than what you deserve. “Picky is making a special dinner to celebrate your recovery and coming back. I’ll come get you when it’s ready. I’ll leave you alone to get settled.” Bobby’s voice cuts off your thoughts, even when you don’t say anything. She smiles and makes her way to the door.

“Thank you,” you say suddenly. Bobby stops dead, turns to you slowly. Her eyes widen.

“What did you say?”

You clear your throat and straighten yourself up. “Considering the fact I’m your prisoner, this is a very generous accommodation.”

Bobby continues to stare at you, and you're questioning if you said the wrong thing already. Not even one hour into your return and you’re already making mistakes. Maybe she’ll change her mind and decide a cell is a more fitting place, but instead of her screaming, or silence and storming away from you, she smiles. “You're not our prisoner here, (Y/n). You're our guest. We want to help you get better. I’m just happy that you’re here with us.”

With that, you are left alone. You hastily dig into your bag which Bobby must have placed in the on the dresser. Thankfully, your journal and the books given to you by Bubba were still there.

You pull one of the drawers and they were full of very thick long-sleeved shirts with hoods. “Hoodies” as Bobby called them. But… which one are you supposed to wear? Bobby never specified which one was mandatory for you, and you couldn’t just ask. You would get punished for not knowing when it should be obvious. You grip the skin of your forearm tightly.

No.

No, no.

No, no, no.

Fight back the temptation to see red! You can’t risk being sent back again. Just take some deep breaths.

In…

Hold…

Out…

Repeat.

Just like the healers taught you. Soon enough, your grip loosens and thankfully, there was no sign of red.

You look back at the drawer of “hoodies.” Since the Space Riders wear white while off duty, then perhaps the white one would be your safest choice. You sigh, hoping that line of reasoning will hold true during mealtime. You relax more when the warmth and softness cover you. The best part was that hood covered your head. It was no mask, but it was better than having your entire head exposed. You were just relieved you no longer had to rely on those infirmary blankets to keep your body and head covered. At least there were no cameras installed in your accommodation… to your knowledge.

Since you had no orders given until mealtime, you decided to explore more of the room. Maybe if you are good, then living as a prisoner of the heretics won’t be so terrible. Maybe you will be able to survive Hell after all.

----------

Stay tuned for the next part "Burn Bright Until You Burn Out"

[lemonhemlock]

My all time favorite angle of the Valyrian gods versus the Faith debate, is that a lot of the fics/takes around it by Team Black seem to like the Old Gods (which fair enough, I too like the creepy trees. team stark 5ever) or at least play lip service to it to make the Faith of Seven seem less cool (no one has the vision for how insane fantasy Catholicism can be except for GRRM himself) but also including Targaryen characters being respectful/kinda into the Old Gods, which KILLS me. I blame the wildly non-canonical weirwood in the Red Keep’s godswood in the show. It drives me INSANE. What is that doing there!!!!!! The Red Keep has no weirwood!!! Who planted it there???? You telling me that Maegor or Jaehaerys took the time to plant a weirwood for the Old Gods???? If I see one more fic where a Targaryen marries someone not of the old gods under a weirwood tree I’m going to kill someone.

I’m SO defensive of the weirwoods because I know none of them have delved into the fucked up human sacrifices that likely created weirwoods plus the rich symbolism that they create (hello Sansa in the Eyrie, I love you), the erasure of the North-South religious and cultural divide, and acting like the Targs would be so cool with the Old Gods for no reason is driving me nuts.

I just hate the show’s weirwood tree, it makes no sense. I will never find peace as long as I keep seeing scenes from the show set under it.

(Sorry for being insane in your inbox again )

Don't worry about it, your inbox drops lead to interesting discussions! 💚

Totally agree with you on the Old Gods & the unsavory blood ritualistic imagery (like hanging entrails from the branches of weirwood trees). I mean, it may sound heavy metal, but if we're supposed to be critical about religion,* this should definitely come under the magnifying glass, too. As is the super creepy idea that Bloodraven is spying on everyone using the weirwoodnet and manipulating historical events like that.

I also don't see why Targaryens should be Old Gods fanboys either - what could they possibly gain from this? It's such a fanon interpretation, because the old religion doesn't have any organized structure that could act as a political actor. There's this projection happening, because Christianity has flaws IRL and a fraught history, when people encounter its fantasy equivalent, they automatically think any other religion is better. I'm waiting for Cult of Starry Wisdom acolytes to come out of the woodwork and preach how much better Nyarlathotep is than the Seven Gods puts together.

As for the godswood in the Red Keep - Ned tells us it has an ancient, huge oak. That kind of tree can only grow like that over a very long period of time. There's no mention of a weirwood in KL that could have been cut down; also I don't think you can plant weirwood trees? Else I think people would do it more often in the North. I honestly think it's there just for nostalgia reasons for the audience. Though I wonder if George agreed with this addition and why. Maybe the lack of a weirwood in KL was an in-universe limitation he imposed on Bloodraven's power?

*at least that's what they think they're doing, by writing all these critical essays on how problematic the Faith is, but they never bother to do a comparative analysis with the other religions available in-universe. Or they peddle their own headcanons as fact, like how supposedly Valyrian society would have been so much less sexist than Faith-worshippers, ergo their religion should reflect that.

[greenerteacups]

Hi there! Just wanted to ask something fun: what’s your favourite moment from each of the books you’ve written so far?

lovely lovely question. so much fun. let me see:

book one: i mean, the train station scene was the image that kicked off the whole series, so i have to pick that one. it resonated with me on so many levels — it introduces the running element of muggle music, which becomes a sort of leitmotif for draco and hermione's relationship, as well as draco's own character growth; it's a fun character moment, in that hermione gets to steal the show from draco's gift of an owl, leaving him speechless, when he'd surely have liked it a bit more the other way 'round, and that's going to be a precedent, too; i also just like the moment itself, as a piece of atmosphere and symbolism. it's his first year of being a gryffindor, and he's survived it, and it's sunny outside, and there's music playing.

there's also a fun nubbin of symbolism in that the song playing is supposed to be "white wedding," which is the epigraph from book 1 (and, in a sense, the whole fic), a song about redemption and starting over and yet also taking your past with you, as well as... well, a song about a wedding. so. take that as you will.

book two: narrowly, it's the moment at Theo's Yule Hunt party where narcissa has just collapsed, and the slytherins have all seen it. there's a beat where draco thinks they're going to turn on him, and use this vulnerability they've discovered to knife him in the back — only they don't. theo sizes him up and makes a call, and they help him get her out. daphne even breaks a school rule to do it. and pansy grouches and gripes about it — she gets in one jab about "hall-pass Slytherins," which still makes me giggle, to be honest — but she helps, too. it's a humanizing moment for them, and (hopefully) one of the first times we begin to see the slytherin kids as possible allies — utter brats, still, but nonetheless people with deeply cherished friendships, loyalties, and the capacity to show empathy and kindness for people they don't yet owe anything. it's maybe the most important moment of book 2, both in terms of theme and plotting.

book three: in terms of writing? i loved doing "The Last Marauder." god, what a fun chapter to write. sirius black's interactions with the golden quartet are some of the most entertaining exchanges in the series for me, bar none, because he's the furthest thing from a parental/supervisory figure that the kids have met (at least, that doesn't want to kill them). he's just unapologetically out of pocket in a way that's glorious for dialogue. (honorable mention here goes to daphne's moment at the League party, because when i finished the scene i sort of felt like daphne herself had burst into my room, held me at wandpoint, and demanded a larger role in the story. it was the moment she transformed in my mind from a tertiary character into a secondary one, and it was as glorious as you'd expect.)

as a moment per se, however, i think it has to be draco's patronus.

book four: "Padfoot Returns," by several orders of magnitude. no question. it's the scene that the whole series has really been building to, and writing it felt every ounce as cathartic as that sentence implies. i also got to do a lot of really fun imagery with smoke and rain and fog, and vamp a little about the ancient undying earth and the ghosts of Hogwarts castle, it was all just an uninterrupted pleasure, start to finish. took me about three weeks to get right, but it was three incredible weeks, let me tell you.

book five: so far, it's a scene in Myrtle's bathroom (which may or may not be cut for pacing reasons). after that, it's a duel in the Room of Requirement, because writing draco in fight scenes gets more and more fun every year.

[izabesworld]

I was wondering if Season 6 of Peaky Blinders made any sense to you and your cultural background. Do the words mentioned that Ruby speaks accurate? The meaning behind the black madonna, and for it to be a symbol of protection from bad spirits? I would love to hear your point of view about that specific season.

To be blank and honest, I really liked Season 6 for the entertainment factor, but didn't think it was all too accurate and played closely on stereotypes of our culture, rather than our culture in itself.

What Ruby says "tickna mora o'beng" has absolutely no significance to me whatsoever. I'm not even sure if it's Angloromani as none of those words is words I've heard or used, and I assume it's them thinking Romanian is Angloromani again.

The translation of the words, from what I know was something about the devil, but even that has little significance to us as the majority of us are either Orthodox, Church of England or in modern times, Pentecostal. The devil can't come to us due to our strong ties to religion.

However, the Black Madonna was bang on the money. I, myself, have a Black Madonna rosary and a Black Madonna statue in my bedroom. Though we don't call her the Black Madonna, we called her Sara-la-kali.

The Black Madonna is more fiction than reality, as we don't pray to her or anything like that. It's like an old family tale and we keep imagery of her just in case the tales are true. She's the Goddess of fertility, protection and good fortune so is better to keep her there just for the odds.

The burning of the vardo in S6 was very important to me and was probably the closest cultural connection I had seen. When many of us die, we choose to die with our vardo's. We do this for spiritual reasons, we believe if our items aren't rid of, we can't pass them over to the afterlife.

Burning the vardo sets our spirit free, free of torment. It also allows us to take our worldly possessions to wherever is next.

I do have so much to say about this, but I apparently take forever to type as this has taken me 15 minutes and I need to get my Saturday clean on. So, thank you so much for your question, I may make another post about it later, however, for now, this is my overall view. May you have a blessed day! <3