#hunchback of norte dame

[terrible-twst-oc-ideas]

Sarousch from The Hunchback of Notre Dame II (2002)

The scariest thing about this guy is how much he's into himself.

[yyxandere]

・✶ ｡ﾟ 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐍

[♡]ー ꒱・！CHARACTER！:: ROLLO FLAMME.

☆ - Art Credits: らび

✧.* gender/pronouns ─ “You” pronouns

✩.* note ─ there was a vison okay (_ _).｡o○. But all I can say is there is a love hate relationship with Rollo here in this fic and Rollo somehow got 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 even though that wasn’t my intention. There’s a lot of Catholic references and I DO NOT SPEAK LATIN. I use google translate and some sites for the prayers (_ _’). And also it’s very much hinted that Rollo and Yuu kept contact after the Masquerade!

✩.* TRIGGER WARNINGS ─ Unhealthy Obsession, Unhealthy Mindset, Mental Illness, SPOILER WARNING FOR GLORIOUS MASQUERADE, READER IS YUU, ALOT of religious/Christian or Catholic themes, and Bad Writing

Infatuation. It is what’s Rollo's entire being is reduced off, every lingering moment with you, the oh so “perfect” prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm, from a school full of “villains” that taints your being with the presence of magic.

He knows those glimmering eyes, even though most of the time it’s covered by your hair, he daydreams the day of holding your face softy as he strays away the hair on your eyes so he can only see himself in those mesmerizing eyes, that no one can compare too.

He remembers the day when he got so near to you that he could practically smell your perfume or your hair; he knew many of how you made him weak, for crying out loud to whoever was up there, playing with his feelings! Save this poor man and see how you have made an utter fool of him!

His heart can’t take it anymore, every whiff of your cologne that flutters in the air like a flapping butterfly after bathing in the sun at a flower, the fragrance now spreading like wildfire in Rollo’s lungs. Every sniff and every clench of his robe can’t compress the dark indulgences, a sinful temptation, an inking and dripping desire for something more sinister than love.

—

Until his knees bled he would not stop kneeling, there in front of him lies was the statue of “The Righteous Judge”, his majesty’s on his high horse, even if he knew that the eyes of the judge were staring forward that sheweth determination and justice, even if Rollo’s hands were clasp as his knees were on the stone cold floor begging for rest, for that he bare through it, this is his penance.

“Sanctis figurae sanctae.

Omnibus Sanctis.

Ignosce nam peccum sum.”

(“To the holy figures. To all the saints. Forgive me for I have sinned.”)

His prayers are all over the place, his voice-muffled in his ragged robes that only the divine might be able to understand. Was there anyone up there who heard and would answer his pleas, someone who would save him from his sins?

Through his gritted teeth and clasped hands, he opened his eyes, through the light of the moon, he felt like the statue was looking back at him, not with disappointment but with resonance.

Getting up on his knees, he brushed his robes trying to save even the last bit of dignity in his uneven clothes, turning around and rearranging his pallium until he felt something in his pockets.

A scarf.

To be exact—his darling’s red silk scarf rolled inside the lining of his pocket. The light of the moon shows the silhouette of “The Righteous Judge”, his aching knees reminding him why he was there in the first place. There was still hope for him, he still could be saved from these yearnings. A guide was all he needed.

Sniff. Sniff

And that was it; that was the last straw. His knees fell on him as his heart beat out of its chest, his fingers curled around the material. As he clutches the scarf with such fervor, it almost seems that his fingertips are about to break the fragile material.

His eyes closed and the image in front of his mind, saw himself holding you with his right hand cupping your face while his left hand trails down your arm and rests on your shoulder. Then slowly leaning down to kiss you gently.

His back turns to see the statue, and there’s only a question he begs to differ.

What will ‘The Righteous Judge’ do in his situation? Will he stay on his conscience or shall he stray away from the path of righteousness, when temptation is in his face?

“Justus Judex, ora pro me…”

(“Righteous Judge, pray for me…”)

—

“Justus Judex.

Semper pulchra et justo.”

(“Righteous Judge. Always fair and just.”)

The ringing of the late afternoon bells echoed throughout the city, and the noisy children who were playing during the afternoon were now dying down and going back to their houses.

With each bell that tolls on the dark horizon, the people’s mood seemed lighter for the laughter of families echoed at their abode; even the birds stopped chirping, instead the night breeze caressed the trees and leaves like a gentle whisper.

“Dimitte nobis debita nostra, salva nos ab igne inferiori.”

(Forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of Hell.”)

Smoke fills Rollo’s nostrils as he sees two of his classmates swing the botafumeiro letting the smoke go both ways. It was a traditional cleansing ritual that the Noble Bell College put in their school, ever since it was made, a symbol of how the “Righteous Judge” purged the unjust in a village full of sinners the village is now called ‘The City of Flowers’.

Rollo stood at the top of the balcony as the principal asked him to do so, for which he could see the student's actions and pick out the ones he saw unfit to do the job.

Rollo taking out his purple handkerchief covered his mouth and nose from inhaling smoke that lingered around, the incense was strong enough so that the “evil spirits and prayers can go up rising into the sky where they can be purified”.

He watches as the smoke wafts into the air as each chant of the students resonates to his ears. Looking down the smoke releases from the silver thurible that the lesser year was tasked to do, the smoke wafts through the air, its gray color is so faint and thin yet feels like a warm sensation on his cheeks, the smoke that rises makes up surround him like they were dancing an action which he is deeply reminded of you.

Your gorgeous smile as you dance carefully at the masquerade, your legs bending so you can gleefully dance with your cat companion. The smoke surrounding his eyes reminds him so much of you, the smoke reminds him of a flowy version of yourself. Even if the version of ‘you’ is smoke, your body dances with such allurement.

His head and heart were pounding as he clutches his chest with his other hand that wasn’t preoccupied with his handkerchief, the smoke now fading away as the strong incense washes it away leaving the balcony.

“Pax vobiscum.”

(“Peace be with you.”)

As the ceremony ended, the selected freshmen now putting the small old thurible on the altar, and the selected seniors slowed down the botafumeiro, chants, and choir now on the end phase of their chorus, as Rollo put down his handkerchief all he could do is just stare at a daze for what the smoke revealed about himself.

The wisp of incense still lingering, the small touches the smoke left were driving him to insanity—if there was even an ounce left of sanity when it comes to you.

He doesn’t know if you’re the devil who will torture him or an angel who ought to save him from his mind, a fire for purification, or water meant to suffocate him, he doesn’t know if you’re his all-waiting salvation or his upcoming demise.

—

The constant popping of the fireplace was supposed to ease his mind. Fire is meant for the purification and renewal of one’s soul, its orange and red hues remind the people of the burning of the wickedness plaguing the world, its cracking sounds can be heard as the scream of the unjust—the scream of sinners.

He stared at the fire-motionless, the heat licking his skin feeling like he was being baptized—that is something he would say if it wasn’t because of you.

Every waking moment he is only reminded why he is even here in this putrid world—to praise you, to love you, to save you.

Those magic users stain you with their disgusting spells and entertain you with their words and their actions. Those magicians pretended to act like angels, like gods, acting like they wanted nothing more than to bring the world to peace, but he saw through everything. He saw through their disguises and lies.

How many overblot experiences must you tell him until you have enough? How many injuries must you sustain from magic until you call it quits? How many more nights must you cry on your pillow until you succumb?

No..

No longer will he stand for this, the many days you leaned on his shoulder as you tell the most graphic tales of your new life. He will no longer accept all that he hears.

Rollo the so pious man he is, grasp your scarf like it was his only hope. Let the world bare him naked and make him get rid of his pride but until his heart is still beating he will grasp on you, kneel on your figure as his only reason to live.

His gray-teal eyes stared at the fire, its cracking sounds much more sinister and louder, his eyes matched the fiercenesses of the fire that can relate to the war in his heart.

Rollo now again taking out your red scarf, delicately runs his hands over it, your perfume still lingers for he wishes that one day (which is very soon), he will brush your hair delicately as you sleep peacefully in his bed, with nothing but him on your mind, not your stupid friends, your idiotic headmade or even your pet.

No. None of them.

He wishes that he could plague your mind like how you occupied his mind, body, and soul.

“Hellfire is what they deserve my love. May the fires of the underworld consume them.”

His eyes are now glued only on your scarf, the world can burn on fire like hell for all he cares when you are in front of him like heaven’s light.

Dear Prefect, hath you know that you made him a sinner?

But in the end, your entire existence was an apple of temptation he cannot resist. A juicy bite that he will savor every moment with its juices running down his chin. May the “Righteous Judge” strike him.

But for you? He is already a sinner in your name.

[freckledfenrir]

my sketch book and blog in a nutshell:

shit post go brrrrr. I can’t draw atm (my wrist pain is spiking again) but I can make shit post at least. So yeah my blog is probably gonna be full of shit post for a few days. Maybe I’d be able to draw on my iPad though since I just use my finger to draw but i probably really shouldn’t even try that tbh.

[perigilpin]

I see you the clear hold that The Armorer has over Bo-Katan, and I raise you the hold Bo-Katan has on the Armorer without even knowing it. I was listening to this cover of Hellfire more or less the whole time I was drawing, so I would highly recommend listening.

[saintverse]

let us not forget the time i decided to make my own animash video as per my friend jody's request @dinerva LMFAO

[pudgy-planets]

No really why is he built like this.

The silhouette is way too similar to Fisting my Doom and What the Sigma.

Also I know people are joking about him looking too much someone from arcane and whatnot. Bowser looking motherfucker. (Minus the part where Bowser is actually attractive.)

His two teammates are much more visually appealing to me. Isn’t he being released when M.arvel R.ivals comes out too if I’m not mistaken?

The concept design was much much cooler- and I’m not just saying because I severely dislike OW (I do.) I just. Don’t see the intention.

[asherisawkward]

Belos meets Frollo from Hunchback of Notre Dame what happens?

Nothing good, I’ll tell you that.

Philip would be absolutely disgusted at this man for lusting after a young girl. After all, not only is it one of the Deadly Sins, but there is also a significant age gap between the two. For reference, Esmeralda is described as being around sixteen years old, meanwhile, Frollo has two ages. In the original text, he’s about thirty-five years old, which is more than twice Esmerelda’s age, and he’s sixty-six in the Disney movie. Philip may be a horrible person, but he does what he does to protect humanity from what he believes to be the greatest evil. As such, I believe that he would attempt to protect Esmeralda from the older man being an absolute pervert.

Frollo, in turn, would be absolutely disgusted by the manner in which Philip has abandoned his humanity to pursue the destruction of witchcraft. He’s a man being kept alive by and utilizing magic. By all accounts, he’s a witch at this point. As such, Frollo would want Philip to be drowned, hanged, or burned—all of which were execution methods used for those accused of witchcraft. How dare this vile monstrosity pretend to be a human being? And how could it possibly believe that it was doing good?

In short: we’d get an old man fight.

I want to see art for this now.

[arcsin27]

Shuake brainrot so severe that for a brief moment I thought hellfire - yeah THAT hellfire - would be a good song for them

[bl00pisdead]

@vampire2468 I made fanart! Idk if you’ll see this but haven’t stopped thinking abt the story ever since I stay up till like 3 am reading it 😭😤👏 but I know you said you wanted fanart for inspiration so I have delivered 😌 Your story is great keep up the great work and remember to take breaks!

[disneymbti]

Can you do Madellaine from The Hunchback of Notre Dame 2? She's always been one of my favorite heroines and she doesn't get enough love

Hi there, sweetie! I really hope you like this a lot!

Madellaine's MBTI Type, Big Three and Enneagram Type

MBTI Type: ISFP [The Adventurer]

ISFP types need plenty of personal space. Though they enjoy building connections with people, they need alone time to think and recharge.

They are very observant, especially focusing on the details more than the overall view. They live in the present and tend to base decisions on what they can see right now.

Adventurers also prioritize emotion when making decisions. They prefer to follow what feels right.

They don’t like schedules, but instead prefer to keep their options open. They are adaptable, spontaneous, and like to challenge the need for strict rules.

Big Three: Aquarius Sun, Cancer Moon and Pisces Rising

Aquarius Sun: Aquarius is ruled by Saturn and Uranus, which makes them seek out unique ways to problem-solve and to approach life. They're known to be intellectual and innovative.

Cancer Moon: The emotions of Cancer Moons have no limits, restraints, or depths. This is a cosmic placement that often leads to sweetness, kindness, emotional awareness and responsibility. 

Pisces Rising: The Pisces ascendant commits fully to their beliefs, and has an active imagination.

Enneagram Type: 4w3 [The Enthusiast]

Basic Fear: Four wing threes’ deepest fear is that they have no significance in the world. They tend to express this by frequently distinguishing themselves from the rest of the world.

Basic Desire: They desire uniqueness and personal identity. They long to be authentically different, which may lead them to intense bouts of creativity and self-expression.

Enthusiasts may defend themselves by unconsciously adapting characteristics of others to seem more authentic.

[damnedrainbows]

His face is all but smooshed into his beloved’s buttermilk bosoms, and honestly he could probably take this over any old eclipse. No eclipse provides this much luxurious cushion.

“Oh, I meant the deer fawn. Figured ‘fawn’ works best for him since you soooo boringly stated that ‘the child I want to leave in a basket on someone’s doorstep’ was too mean to refer him as.”

A disgruntled bleat leaves the King. “Mee-eeh! Lily!” He wiggles, but alas. He is stuck to the bosoms. Caught in a vice, his breast friends have betrayed him!

“That is so unnecessarily disgustingly descriptive! …And sounds like something our fawn would eat.”

[morganbritton132]

Hey, me again. Two asks in one day lol.

I have a question, Eddie is definitely famous enough that the teachers can just look him up right? So my idea was that the other teachers have all worked out most of what is going on and who Eddie is because hello, google exists so they just enjoy messing with David. Would that work? I’m genuinely so curious about why no one has looked him up if they know he’s been to red carpets and stuff.

David has made attempts to google who Eddie is. The only problem is that he thinks that Steve and Eddie have the same last name and Edward Harrington is a dentist.

Largely, the other first-year teachers are just not that interested in actually finding an answer to who Steve is married to. It’s just something fun to talk about on their lunchbreak so they don’t spend the whole time talking about lesson plans and students. Plus, it’s fun to tease David about it because he actually wants to know Steve’s whole deal.

I do love the idea of the other teachers figuring out who Eddie is and just not telling David about it.

Of course, they eventually figure it out. They’re all twenty-somethings with iPhones and TikTok accounts. Eventually one of them was going to stumble across new rising TikTok star, Eddie Munson.

David just happens to have the worst FYP in existence because Eddie has yet to be on it. Except once, David was scrolling before bed and came across one of Eddie’s live-streams. Unfortunately, it was a live-stream of an empty room because Eddie forgot to turn it off.

He’s convinced that if Eddie Harrington is not an actor than he must be a director. A small enough director to not have an IMDB page so he googles indie movies that were filmed in Chicago. Some of them were duds, none of them contained Eddie.

Then he started watching shows that were filmed in Chicago to see if he comes up in the credits anywhere. Watching every episode of Chicago Med to do this is not insane because Marissa encourages him, “Maybe you should watch Shameless too. That was filmed in Chicago.”

“Oh,” David says. “He’s a better fit for Shameless than Chicago Fire.”

A week after that while David is still in the thick of rewatching tv shows, Kathy shrugs her shoulders over her potato salad and says, “Maybe he is an actor and he just does theater. He’s very theatric.”

David crumbles the chip he’s holding, “Good point.”

Luckly, David’s girlfriend loves musical theater. Unfortunately, Eddie Harrington apparently doesn’t. (He see a Corroded Coffin member though because Jeff is currently playing Frollo in the Hunchback of Norte Dame).

Two weeks after that, Jordan takes some pity on him and reminds David that Eddie seems to be pretty talented with musical instruments, “Remember when he filled in for the piano teacher?”

“Yeah,” David says, but dismisses it immediately. He’s already checked the composers for every indie movie he’s watched this year and Eddie Harrington was not there. “Maybe he’s a PA. They’d go to red carpets, right?”

“…David, you’re killing me.”

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Hellfire (Priest! Miguel O’Hara x Demon! Fem! Reader) one shot

Oooooo Im very happy about this one. Based of the song from the hunchback of Norte dame. No idea how this got to the word count it did lol. Not proofread.

Religious imagery(Catholicism specifically), questioning of faith, the lyrics of the song does contain a certain that can be seen as distasteful/offensive, reader is a demonic entity (almost like a succubus), nsfw content but no smut (mdni), semi-dub con(???) (reader trying to convince Miguel to give into her, but it’s mostly teasing touches and stuff.), cursing, mentions of hell.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Word count: 2.6K

Masterlist

—

Confiteor deo

Omnipotenti

Beatae Mariae

Semper virgini

Beato Michaeli archangelo

Sanctis apostolis

Omnibus sanctis

—

With a heavy sigh, Miguel placed his rosary and his bible on his office’s desk. Another Sunday completed, all the services for the day were finished, along with clean up and the classes for the kiddos. It was now getting dark, the sun setting, leaving a beautiful painting of pink and orange hues in the sky. The church bells struck once, twice, three times, then one last time, signifying another hour having passed as Miguel put on his winter coat and gloves, because surely,it was still snowing outside , his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the empty ancient church. He stops at the start of the wooden pews, turning towards the front and placing his right hand to the top of his forehead.

“En el nombre del Padre.” (In the name of the father.)

His hand travels to the middle of his chest.

“Y del Hijo.” (The son)

To his left shoulder.

“Y del Espíritu…” (And the holy…)

To his right shoulder.

“Santo, Amén.” (spirit, Amen.)

Lastly, he brings his hand up and places a gentle kiss on the side of it, his eyes never leaving the stain glass portrait of the Virgin Mary that hung in the middle of the top of the stage as he said the prayer, before turning back around and exiting the church, a familiar sense of dread filling his chest as he closes the door behind him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud (et tibit pater)

—

Miguel couldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t sleep.

He rubs his large hands over his face, his eye bags have been getting darker lately, he’s been lacking energy, and thanks to the little sleep he’s been receiving, it was only making it harder for him to fight off the temptation of sin. But it’s not like he could have a full night's rest, not when… Miguel shook his head in an attempt to rid the vile and unholy thoughts. Maybe tonight will be different, that was the lie he told himself every night.

Miguel placed his toothbrush back into the little blue cup onto his bathroom sink, bringing up a small, white hand towel to clean off the excess water that was spread on his lips, and began to run down his chin and onto his neck.

what a delicious sight.

Once he finally finished cleaning up the water on his chin, he dragged the towel over his sink counter to clean the water he had spilled while brushing, before placing it back on its little hook and exited the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Maybe he wouldn’t have the same problem every night if he didn’t look so tempting, only sleeping in gray sweatpants.

He does a once-over of his house, making sure all the doors and windows are locked. Before finishing stopping in front of his bedroom, freezing right before the threshold of the door. His hands go up and join together in a praying signal, whispering for protection under his breath.

Like that’s ever helped him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd (quia peccavi nimis)

—

The second he took the step into his bedroom, he felt a shiver run down his back. It felt like the temperature dropped once he walked in, he swore if he focused hard enough, he’d be able to see his own breath.

Despite his fight or flight senses screaming at him to run, he continued to venture further into his master bedroom. A simple wooden cross with golden accents hung over his bed, his eyes fixated on it. Miguel O’Hara, was a man of faith, he had to be in order to be the priest of his community’s church. He’s poured his whole life, soul and being into his religion, having been raised catholic since he was a mere infant. So why was it that every night, when he’d stared at the cross over his bed, the one that was supposed to protect him, did he start to doubt?

—

Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there?

Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? (cogitatione)

—

It always started the same.

He’d sleep somewhat soundly for a good amount of the night, once he was able to get his mind to stop racing.

He looked so adorable asleep, despite his colossal size.

He moves a lot, so his bed always becomes a bit disheveled, a pillow on the floor or a blanket halfway off the bed. Some light snores and some drool dripping out the corner of his mouth.

How could such a holy man be so delicious looking?

It was 3 am. Witching hour.

“Wake…”

“… up~”

“Wake up.”

—

I feel her, I see her

The sun caught in her raven hair

Is blazing in me out of all control (verb o et opere)

—

Miguel’s eyes shot open. Chest heaving as he takes rapid short breaths, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes darting around his dark room in an attempt to find the source of the voice, only lifting his head as he did so.

He knew you were here.

Finally he finds a pair of dark glowing eyes at the foot of his bed, how did he miss it in the first place? He chalks it up to panic. A silence fell over the two of you for what felt like hours, an all too familiar sense of panic (and to Miguel’s horror, slight arousal) filled his senses. Finally, you break the silence.

“My my my… if it isn’t my favorite priest…” You said in a sing-songy tone, as you slowly climbed onto the bed, making Miguel’s stomach twist. He should push you off of him, he should banish you to the depths of hell, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for some reason. He was paralyzed. You stopped crawling once you were fully over him. “Oh father… help me for I have sinned.” You said in a mocking tone, a shiver ran down his back once again as he let out a shaky breath, feeling your sharp fingernails trail down his chest, and stopping at the waistband of his sweats tugging at the band slightly.

—

Like fire

Hellfire

—

Finally coming to his senses, (much to your dismay) he finally pushes off you. Landing on the floor to the left side of the bed, with a small “oof” as he quickly scrambled to the over side of the bed in or to create distant between the two of you.

“Get out.” Miguel growled as he readjusted his sweats. You didn’t respond, rather, you brought your hand up to move some hair that had gotten into your face as you slowly walked around the bed and towards him. You looked how you always did when you would visit him. You could even be mistaken for a human if it weren’t for the horns, the wings and the long nails.

“Don’t act like that now, father. Aren’t you tired of this little game we play every night?” You asked with a head tilt, continuing to walk towards him as you spoke, your sentence coming out slow and drawn out, your tone nothing but pure seduction. Miguel closes his eyes as if they would deafen your words. Every step you take forward, he takes one back, before the back of his knees eventually hits the back of his bedside table, his hands going behind him to help stabilize himself to keep from falling back on top of it. “You pretend you don’t enjoy this-“

“I don’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you hard, father?” You smirked as you spoke., eyes drifting down to a very visible bulge in his sweats. “Have I finally done my job? Will this be the night you fall victim to temptation?” You said in a surprised, yet smug tone. Miguel felt his face burn up, a hand going behind him in search of something. “I will say, you do look quite handsome on your knees. I can give you something so much better to worship than God. You just have to give in to me, give in, father. Give in. Give in. Give in. Give. In.” You chant those two words like a mantra, your eyes begin to glow as you got closer, you were at arms length now. Your steps and words came to a sudden halt.

—

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin

—

Your eyes narrowed at the rosary Miguel was holding up in front of you in an attempt to protect himself from you.

“That’s not a very nice way to treat your guest.”

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you back to hell where you belong.” His words make you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you would never. You and I both know that. Now put that thing down so I can corrupt my favorite human.” You attempted to move closer, only for him to double down. “Tell me Miguel, if you were really gonna ‘banish’ me or whatever. Why haven’t you done so already? I’ve been coming to you for a few weeks now? If you really wanted to get rid of me for good, you would have done so already. You’re a priest for god’s sake-“

“Don’t you dare use the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’m a demon.” You deadpanned.

He hated to admit that you were right, he hated that he knew that you were. He’s surprised that you haven’t gotten bored in this game of cat and mouse yet. Every night you would appear in his room at the sametime, attempting to seduce him while he spat empty threats at you. Why hasn't he just gotten rid of you yet? It’s not like he doesn’t have the power to do so or the equipment. Maybe he was going insane, maybe he was losing it, or maybe…

No. He couldn’t.

He can’t just throw away his whole life’s work just because a demon who happened to be conventional pretty keeps pestering every night. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to temptation. He wouldn’t allow himself to be corrupted by your glowing eyes that seem like they could stare into his soul forever, or your sultry voice that made his heart skip a beat, your plump lips that would pull up into a smirk whenever you’d question him, how the say you would tilt your head made him weak in the knees- oh how he wish he could worship your body on his knees like you were a goddess- no, fuck.

“Get out.” Miguel repeated, his voice becoming tighter, his knuckles turning white. He takes a step forward, you take one back and frown. “Get. Out!”

He blinks, you're gone.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

I'm not to blame (mea culpa)

It is the gypsy girl the witch who sent this flame (mea maxima culpa)

—

It’s been a few weeks since your last visit, much to Miguel’s surprise. He should be relieved, he should be thanking the heavens up above that he was finally able to extract such a vile presence from his life, he doesn’t feel a pit in his stomach when he enters his own home anymore, it doesn’t feel like the temperature in his room is 20 degrees colder than it is in the hallway leading into it anymore, he doesn’t feel like like there’s this constant ghost lingering over his shoulder anymore. So why wasn't he at peace?

Your lack of presence was almost just as unbearable. In a twisted way, he became accustomed to it. Maybe this was another of your tricks, attempting to perform classic conditioning on him. Get him used to you by the constant attention from your nightly visits, butter him up despite his protest, making his body burn up with the way your touch lingers on his body too long, the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you lick your lips, the way the word father would leave your lips in a way that made it sound like you’ve just sinned and he was the only one who could help you reach eternal salvation again, just to pull it all away from him within a snap of a finger to see how long it would take for him to crumble. You were Pavlov, and Miguel was just the dog whose mouth started to water at the sound of a bell.

The church was empty besides himself, he was kneeling before the crucifix that was placed next to the portrait of the Virgin Mary, eyes closed, his hands folded together in a fist as he he dips his head down, nose touching his hands as he silently prayed for forgiveness for allowing you to slowly chip away at his self-restraint. He heard the large front door open, he didn’t open his eyes but his head came up as he spoke.

“I’m sorry my child, the church is closed.”

“I needed to see you though, father.”

Miguel’s eyes snapped open. He knew that voice all too well.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

If in God's plan (mea culpa)

He made the Devil so much stronger than a man (mea maxima culpa)

—

“How-“ Miguel was stunned, not only have you reappeared after weeks, you were also standing inside of a church, his church. You looked so beautiful, you looked like an actual human, your nails, although still sharp and point looked more like acrylics rather then claws, you weren’t dawning your bat-like wings and your horns weren’t poking out of your hair, if Miguel had passed by you on the street, he’d be none the wiser. It only made him crack more, imagining what it would be like in a different world where there wasn’t shame and taboo keeping him away from you. Where you aren’t a soulless, heartless creature. “How’s you get in here?” He finally got the question out, his eyes narrowed into slits as he took a step back, almost fumbling his footing and tripping.

“We can enter churches if we find a weak point.” You stated as you made your way towards him, Miguel’s eyes dropped instantly to your hips, how they swayed with each step you take, his mouth went dry and he instinctively licked his lips. “I wonder what that weak point is?” You teased as you stopped in front of him, your lips pulling up into a smirk.

—

Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast her spell

Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy Esmeralda

And let her taste the fires of hell

Or else let her be mine and mine alone

—

He don’t know how it happened, one minute he was standing face to face in front of you, then the next, you both were in his office in the back of the church, you were sitting on top of his desk as he kneeled in front of you, his rough hands wondering and running around your legs, and he planted soft light kisses all over them. In between each one, he’d whispered a small pile of forgiveness from God, but he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

—

Hellfire

Darkfire

Now gypsy, it's your turn

Choose me or your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

—

“You never told me your name…” Miguel mumbled into your skin, his face buried against your inner thigh as he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name. Just… call me (Y/N).” You cooed as you ran a hand through his hair, before bringing it down to his cheek. Miguel leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He was completely and utterly yours now.

“(Y/N)…” He whispered the name like a prayer.

—

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on her

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on me

Kyrie eleison

But she will be mine

Or she will burn

[princess-ibri]

What would be the backstory behind Judge Claude Frollo?

So tip what I’d do is basically just adapt the backstory he had from the book. He and his brother are orphans, taken in by the church, Frollo grows up to be the self righteous judge and his brother Jehan becomes a gambling drinking wastrel. I think the animosity/belief in his own righteousness would grow from Frollo’s relationship with his brother. Jehan’s rebellious actions constantly put their hopes of stability growing up in jeopardy, and young Claude feels superior to him because he’s rewarded for towing the line, and that just sort of builds up overtime to the whole world, eventually turning from “I’m in the right because I’m doing right” to “I’m always in the right”.

Also I had Jehan be the father of Claudine in my rewrite of her for Canon Descendants, as Claude Frollo deserves to die eternally frustrated.

Since the backstory wasn’t really long I will take this opportunity to drop the little idea I had for my take on a HOND 2 rewrite/better sequel. I was looking over the Disney Villain Recruitors from Tokyo DisneySea—Park only characters that are like new Sidekicks to the villains and wondering how I’d adapt them to the DisneyVerse, and had the idea that Frollo’s Recruiter, Veil, would actually be a demon that’s been sent as his handler basically when he makes a deal in Hell to come back as a revenant to try and get revenge.

The bell she wears around her neck is his reliquary which’s holds what’s left if his soul—Ala Rasputin from Anastasia—and the plot , which would include a rewrite of Madelline from HOND 2 cuz I like her design and Quasi deserves love to, would probably pull in my rewrites for Zephyr and Claudine as well and have a Medieval Folk Horror flavor over all of it.

[flipppyflopp]

“Just a little longer, and I will finally be rid of those abominations. Then we will be free. I shall bring peace to everyone!” 🔥

The Glorious Masquerade is underway! This event has been so much fun and I absolutely love all the Hunchback of Norte Dame references, so I decided to draw a reference of my own. I can just picture Rollo planning out his scheme with his diorama and figures, then his Vice President walking in and the silence being deafening 🤡

I have another piece planned for the Glorious Masquerade featuring Silver and Sebek referencing a moment from the Kingdom Hearts franchise…that’s all I’ll say for now. I’m also working on putting together my next twst oc post, so look forward to that as well!✨

[isabeauwolf]

Hmm 🤔

I imagine that Tomura and Overhaul might speak English in canon, but do y'all think Touya does as well?

Touya could no doubt be a shameless flirt 🔥

Tomura would be awkward, but brighten up while talking about gaming 🎮

Kai would mostly observe, listen to you talk and give comments or feedback every once in a while 🐦‍⬛

If you could, what would you talk to them about?

I'd probably ramble about my favorite childhood games with Tomura: Sly Cooper and the Thievius Raccoonus Spyro, Sonic The Hedgehog. He'd probably tease me for sucking at Super Smash Bros 😆

I'd talk about my favorite movies and books with Kai, romance, scary movies, and mystery thrillers; plus, a couple of classics like Dracula, Mary Shelly's Frankenstein, Dr Jykell and Mr Hyde, Dante's Inferno, Grim Brother's Fairytales, and The Hunchback of Norte Dame, to name a few. He'd probably say something about me liking the darker stuff or overall sappy stuff.

Aside from sharing our dislike for both Endeavor or Hawks.... I'm honestly, not sure with Touya? I'd probably smile and blush like an idiot commenting that it's cute how he's the big brother of the league, even if, he won't admit it 🤭