#so i can totally see it: the two priests from different churches--each thinking their way is the correct way--having to put aside their

[vonlipvig]

Ok, I'm assuming The Ritual movie is horror but seeing those two pictures of the actors made me think it was a comedy!

it's not a comedy? well, it should be!

[oogaboogasphincter]

Deceits of the Devil (priest!marcus pike x f!reader) | chapter one: the high priestess

series summary: when you find love in a priest, a litany of spooky events begin to follow you that can only be described as a haunting. is it your own guilty conscience that disturbs you... or could it be something else?

chapter summary: you're visiting your best friend in her new town for the first time when you are begrudgingly thrust into her devout way of life. however, something - or someone - makes you rethink your plans of avoiding the church at all costs.

word count/series~chapter-specific warnings: 6.4k+ words // MATURE (18+ ONLY) MDNI!: reader uses she/her pronouns and is incredibly non-religious, SLOW BURN TABOO RELATIONSHIP BABYYY, lots of religious/spiritual talk, horror elements and general spookiness ~ lots of character introductions so pls bear with me, mention of the death of a loved one and some light grief, food and eating mentions, sudden illness, potentially cringe banter, take a shot for every time i wrote 'father pike' in this (trust me we learn his first name soon enough but for now it's all formalities between him and reader), is this whole thing blasphemous? probably

a/n: sooo this is something very different from what i normally write, but i'm so excited to be trying something new! :) i'm not too sure where i want to take this story yet, so i don't have a total number of chapters or an ending planned (i really don't even have much of the plot figured out LMAO) but i'd really really appreciate any and all feedback from my readers! ♥️ let me know what you liked and what you want to see more of in future chapters!

“So I won’t burst into flames when I walk through the doors?” 

You ask your best friend, Lucy, sending her into a fit of laughter. She clutches your hand tighter in hers, squeezing it with pompous affection. Despite your best efforts to maintain your feelings of impartialness towards the church, your palm slips against hers with a sheen of clamminess as you travel closer to the hulking cathedral. 

“No!” She laughs, that breathless laugh you’ve always found comfort in. “You’re holier than most of the people who go every Sunday.” 

You scoff and give her some side-eye, something that just makes her shake her head even more. Whether or not this is how you wanted to spend your first day in Carmeltree visiting her, you are going to this harvest dinner. 

She sighs contentiously, contrasting the playful smirk on her face, “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Now come on, we’re gonna be late!” 

——

Lucy has been your best friend since kindergarten. The maple leaves that swirl around you both in the crisp autumn air as you run through the streets now invoke a fierce sense of nostalgia, one that’s almost painful. One of your first memories together is making leaf rubbings in class with the fallen leaves that blanketed the frosted school grounds. She liked warm colors and you liked cool colors; she liked maple leaves and you liked birch leaves. Two complete halves made an even brighter whole when you came together, and the rest is history. 

Despite the big city you grew up in, somehow you always managed to be in the same classes, share the same hobbies. But your luck had to run out sometime; when you both graduated, you got accepted into universities on opposite sides of the country. You kept up your communication, talking to each other every day and spilling your guts about everything, from the monumental to the regrettable, the joyous to the devastating. 

You thought something was amiss when she called you in the middle of the night a few months back. At first you brushed it off, thinking maybe she fell asleep with her phone in her hand and dialed you by accident, something you’ve both done plenty of times over the course of your friendship. When she called you back as soon as you didn’t answer, you knew there was something wrong. That’s when you learned her mom had passed away. 

It wasn’t sudden, but that didn’t spare her any devastation. You were there for her all day, every day. Consoling her when she wept, relishing in the happy memories that brought a rare but vital smile to her voice, sympathizing with her grief. But without a physical shoulder to lean on, Lucy went looking for more support to help her. 

Her mom was a devout Christian and, by proxy, so was Lucy. She isn’t as rigid in her faith as her mom was, but she always viewed it as a guiding light to betterment, a sturdy foundation to catch her when she crumbled. Luckily, the whirlwind of life events in the past six months that displaced her from her college friends to the small town of Carmeltree was gracious enough to gift her a tight-knit, painfully orthodox population. 

On the contrary, you grew up in a household without any influence of organized religion. Your family celebrated Christmas and Easter, but it was mostly for all of the gifts and chocolate. 

Religious differences never caused any turmoil between you and your best friend, because you love each other for who you are, regardless if you share spiritual beliefs. If praying and attending sermons helps Lucy to process her grief and gives her something that uplifts her soul, what kind of a friend would you be to forbid her from that? 

—— 

That doesn’t make you any more enthused about being dragged to the dinner held at the church to celebrate the autumn harvest. Lucy dropped the plan on you the second she picked you up from the major airport, whose segregating miles seem to swell with every second that passes. Knowing you would come up with an alternative plan you’d both like better, she didn’t give you a chance to back out, and you didn’t fight. Committed to being a good friend, and with a curiosity pricking your heart, you run alongside her through residual puddles as the street clocks chime eight times. 

And let’s get one thing straight - “church” was a dishonorable term for the structure you’re going to. For hundreds of years, since the first round of colonizing settlers that invaded this square patch of disparate land, the citizens have been addicted to worship. They would lend their last cent to their religion, egregiously ignoring their growling stomachs and dilapidated houses for the sake of a prosperous God. The result of this frenzied generosity is the biggest cathedral you’ve ever seen. 

You’re still a few blocks away, but the spires reach over the trees and spear up at the moon; whose craters can be seen with miraculous clarity on this autumn night. As you move closer and closer, the details in this spectacular of gothic architecture reveal themselves. There are a litany of pinnacles that stand like soldiers guarding their fortress and clerestory windows that dance and swish with light coming from inside the maw of the beast. When your eyes drift to angular beams that aid the structure - flying buttresses, if you remember correctly - your marvel is suddenly absent.

“No gargoyles?” you ask. 

Lucy matches your disappointment with a shake of her head, “They come too close to the pagan border.” It’s unmistakable the way she lowers her voice, though there’s only a handful of patrons a hundred feet away from you. 

Against the cloudless, darkening sky and a comically-eerie full moon, anyone would be dosed with at least a few drops of intimidation by the staggering black outlines. You fail to find any ease once you come to one of three entrances. The carvings of ancient tales you don’t know loom over your head in the angular tympanum and greet you with uncertainty. Are they supposed to make you feel welcomed or warned? 

The gigantic doors are swung and held open by their own weight, giving way to the narthex. There’s a singing choir hidden deeper within and their melodies echo all around you. A large chandelier emits a soft orange glow, which is peculiarly swallowed up instead of reflected by the intricate, gilded etchings that coat the walls. Maroon velvet beneath your feet turns into a dark abyss of shadows from the unprecedented amount of people in here. You cling to Lucy’s coat with both your hands, somewhat subconsciously, and she laughs before taking your hand in hers and parting though the sea. 

You’ll admit it, you can be very shy when you’re overwhelmed. Though for some inexplicable reason, crowds usually didn’t give you a fuss. You actually found a sense of comfort in being lost in the blur, blending in as just another body amongst hundreds, sometimes thousands of others. But you didn’t like this crowd, didn’t know these people, and not in a stranger-danger kind of way; you’ve unknowingly crossed the line of some Christians in the past and have dealt with their fiery ravings. From knowing Lucy all these years, you seem to have an understanding of their way of life, but then you slip up - use His name in vain, talk about a crush you have no plans to marry a little too fondly. You’ll be chewing on your third forkful and look up at the table, meeting ghastly stares and wanting to smack yourself in the face for completely forgetting grace. 

Lucy never scorned you about forgetting or misunderstanding the rules. She knew that you didn’t mean any malice, you just simply… thought it was all a little silly sometimes. Between lighthearted Lucys and tyrannical Karens, it felt like walking on a minefield. So, you guess, you do know these people; it’s their unpredictability that worries you. 

The claustrophobia wanes as you enter the nave. The ceiling spreads out, breathes, and is lined with stained glass windows that bend the moonlight into faint rainbows. Some of the outermost pews have been moved to accommodate long tables, adorned in chestnut velour, copper filigree and serve as the throne for only the most impressive squashes of the harvest. A buffet joins the autumnal decor, sitting in sterling silver that you can imagine was forged at the beginning of the century and is used only for occasions such as these. 

Ever atune to your mind and body, Lucy pulls you into the line of hungry patrons just as your stomach grumbles. You’re transfixed by the magnificent altar at the back of this illustrious cave, your eyes climbing up the grand steps of the sanctuary to the stone table where you know the priest stands when mass is held. You try to picture one giving a sermon and reciting from scriptures. Doesn’t he have a cup or something too?…

A plate is stuck in front of you, waving a little, and the priest laughs at you when he finally gets your attention. You take the plate with a little embarrassment, your smile a sheepish one. “Sorry,” you mumble with pity. 

The tall, wispy-haired man smiles with his teeth and places his arthritic hands around one of yours as you hold the plate. “Oh, it’s alright, my child. I myself have gotten lost in the wonders of the cathedral many times.”

Lucy chimes in, reading your awkward gaze. “It’s her first time,” she whispers with a little too much excitement for your liking. The priest puts on a goofy surprised expression, his eyebrows going up and his mouth forming a small 'o'. He looks back to you with a softer smile, “What a beautiful thing to witness, then. I’m Father Gala, pleased to meet you.” 

“There’s no one better to come here with for the first time than Miss Finkle. You’re in very good hands.” As you nod in agreement, you can’t help but wonder… what would this elder man, in his starched and pressed vestments, think if he knew you and Lucy had “practiced” kissing so you’d know what you were doing when the “real thing” happened? 

You wave the thought away like a gnat, not wanting to feel like you’re keeping another clean secret that’s considered dirty by some. You’re already under the guise of being a practicing Christian; Lucy had said they were more readily accepted than anyone else, despite the church’s proclamation of aiming for cultural diversity. 

The choir has ended their singing, replaced by applause then the soft, overlapping chatter of the religious folk, and their red robes merge seamlessly into the surrounding crowd. Three other priests emerge from doors on either side of the sanctuary, two from the door closer to you and one from the other. You don’t get a good look at the singular man, since the door is on the opposite side of the grand hall from you. The two others are deep in talk, gesturing with their hands and keeping their faces close to one another while they walk as to not let anyone eavesdrop. You move ahead in line and depart from the eldest priest, whom the two new faces greet and guide a few feet away from everyone. 

You don’t mean to pry, but you can’t help your curiosity and look back at the men. You can’t hear them, only watching their mouths move, but Father Gala’s sweet smile grows somber, then bitter. With scowling brows to match, the other two priests keep up their gestures laden with well-maintained passion as they tell Father Gala a story. 

In the first lull of this conversation, the eldest priest, with his arms crossed over his chest, flickers his eyes to yours without moving his head. Your heart springs from your chest to your throat. His glower lessens when he bites the inside of his cheek, but you feel a doubling, tripling of stress when the other two priests turn to look at you too. The taller one, with a jet black, scraggly bowl cut, mirrors Father Gala and crosses his arms. He looks down his long nose at you in dignified annoyance. The third, with stocky limbs and strawberry blonde hair, glares at you from his periphery. Your eyes widen, in an attempt to show them you’re not a threat, expose your remorseful guilt, or provide a silent apology, you don’t know.

Lucy snaps you back forward with a gentle push against your back to get you to move in the line. You’ve finally reached the buffet, but suddenly the smells that wandered up your nose in wispy, tempting little tendrils earlier instead worm their way down your esophagus and instill a powerful nausea. She can sense your discomfort, your disorientation from what just happened, and supplies your plate for you. With a protective gaze over your head at the men, and a loving hand on your bicep, she guides you to sit in the pew farthest away from them. 

She has to stick a fork in your petrified fist for you to speak. “What the hell was that about?” You question, chancing a glance over your shoulder at the offending party and see that they’ve gone off to greet guests with friendly smiles again. “I wasn’t trying to listen in, they just looked worried and-“

Lucy pats your knee once, “Don’t worry. There must be some sort of drama happening behind the scenes, something that the town would inquire about. Since they’re priests, they think they have immunity from gossip.” She scoffs lightly and you think you catch your devout friend rolling her eyes at those most holy. “They’ve been acting weird for a while now, off and on. One week, Father Gala is like Mr. Rogers, and the next, he’s Dracula.” 

That earns a snort from you, hiding your smile behind the back of your hand. She gives you a reassuring smile, filled with her signature warmth that’s comforted you all these years, “You’re doing great. Now eat.” 

Thankfully, your nausea has quelled enough that you taste the delicious food as it’s meant to be tasted. Maybe you don’t have to worry about foraging during your stay in this town void of all fast food, only relying on two quaint grocery stores to feed itself. You’ll just have to become friends with whoever made this delectably gooey mac and cheese. 

Lucy interrupts you, “Oh, by the way,” she covers her full mouth and then swallows, pointing daintily, “that’s Father Thorn,” at the tall one, “and that’s Father Angus,” at the blonde one. You nod once in understanding, taking a look at their faces to match their names with, before Lucy turns away with a laugh. She teases under her breath, “Maybe they’re all pissed they could never be as handsome as Father Pike.” 

“Priests can be handsome?” you ask of the mysterious fourth priest, bemused. Priests, deacons, popes and the like all conjure up images of men with wrinkles as delicate and numerous as the pages in the ancient books they abide by. If they’re not a million years old, they’re unsightly at best and possess a visceral lack of sensuality, like Father Thorn and Father Angus. Lucy has got to be pulling your leg. 

“Yes,” she breathes, a soft pink blooming in her cheeks, “and young, and warm, and have a voice that makes every sermon a lullaby, and big, tender hands…” she trails off in a dream.

You let out a laugh, amused by her dramatics. “Oh, so he’s really ugly, then,” you sneer, trying to expose her hyperbole. 

She giggles at your tone, shaking her head. You reign down on her, spurring her giggles on with a barrage of sarcasm until they’re uncontrollable.

“Is that why this place doesn’t have gargoyles, because he can take its place? Does he have leathery skin,” you drag your hands down your face, pulling your cheeks down to expose your eyes, “rotted fangs,” hold your hands by your mouth and snarl your fingers, “hairy feet with long, twisting toenails that tear through his shoes?” You get up and drag your feet along the floor, growling and licking your lips rabidly. 

Lucy doubles over, tears threatening to spill over her eyes every time her lungs have to suck in a breath, “Stop!” She’s wheezing and you drop the act, putting your hands on your hips. 

“Well, you gotta tell me if I’m wrong or not!” Tapping your foot, you await her retaliation, until a voice warm with a smile cuts through the air.

“You forgot the giant rat’s tail that drags behind me.” 

Your heart stops for a second, thumping wildly when it starts up again to catch the missed beats. Turning tentatively on your heel, you’re met with… exactly what Lucy described. 

Before you is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, if not the most handsome ever. Chocolate waves that crest over top one another in a cute, slightly overgrown style glisten like ganache on top of his head in the candlelight. He’s got a scruffy beard that’s cut close to his cheeks and jaw, avoiding looking unkempt, threaded with two or three streaks of gray. His aquiline nose is gorgeous, there’s a little dimple in his cheek that deepens as he’s smiling, and his eyes… oh, his eyes…

“I’m Father Pike,” he extends his hand in greeting, keeping his other tucked behind his back. He has to bend forward slightly to reach your height better, aiding your descent into enchanted madness as he gets closer. You take his hand and introduce yourself- GOD Lucy was right. His grasp is light, comforting. Where Father Gala made you feel stuck in his eternal cage, Father Pike sets you free. You fall into a stupor fantasizing about what his hugs must feel like.

He smells like cinnamon. It could be from the pie you suspect he ate, from the apple undertones you detect, but you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s just how he naturally smelled. A warm, cozy, inviting dream; he sure looked like one, at least. 

His gaze lingers on your expression frozen with intrigue before he turns and welcomes Lucy. They begin a polite banter that allows you to stand back and try to quell your blood that throbs with nerve. If you had known someone like Father Pike was going to be here, you would’ve dressed in something nicer, possibly sexy - the modesty expected in a place of worship be damned. You curse yourself for choosing these well-worn jeans and roomy sweater over the opaque tights and a dress of an acceptable length you were going back and forth on in your mirror earlier. But, in an odd sort of way, you still felt exposed in front of Father Pike from underneath all your thick layers. You couldn’t hide yourself from him, no matter how many clothes you armored yourself with. 

He turns back to you, and he doesn’t ogle your nervous body, or try desperately not to; he looks into your eyes with a soft smile that crinkles the skin around those big brown puddles. It makes your chest feel like it has a big, gaping cavity that you could look inside of and see your heart thumping hard, vulnerable blood spilling from all your edges and trickling down your legs. The flustered emotions of a blooming crush rapidly morph into something malicious and parasitic, causing you to put the back of your hand to your forehead that has broken out in clamminess. It’s hard to hear Father Pike over the rushing buzz in your head when he speaks to you.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, are you new?” 

And just like that, your knees start trembling beneath you. Your heart misses a beat, causing your lungs to seize in anger and you suck in a harsh breath. In a flash, Father Pike’s friendliness snaps into genuine concern and he steps forward, taking your elbows and catching you on your way to the floor. You make a startled sound and his timbre slashes through your panic, “Let’s get you sat down somewhere, okay?” 

You can barely muster a nod, tears threatening to spill over your eyes and join the rivulets of sweat on your cheeks. Father Pike more or less carries you by your middle as you pathetically cling to his arms, dragging your debilitated form a short distance to a secluded, abandoned pew by the door he entered from earlier in the evening. Father Pike sits you down and takes the place right beside you, putting his left arm around your shoulders and his right hand in yours. As soon as you’re grounded on the unforgiving wood, your vision stops spinning, even though you didn’t realize it had started. Breathing suddenly feels easy again, returning to its involuntary glory instead of being laborious. It’s like your body resumed its regularly scheduled programming with an invisible snap. 

Away from the hub of the crowd, his voice seems louder, its velveteen quality more clear, “You alright?” 

You take a precautionary, steadying breath before meeting his eyes, fearful that something in him will set off all your alarms again. But when you meet his eyes, everything is serene. “Y-yeah, I’m okay.”

A pause to verify your sincerity, and then he chuckles, trying to uplift the atmosphere with a lighthearted tone, “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just…”

You laugh, as much as you can muster in your breathless state, “No, no, you didn’t!” He retracts his hand from yours slowly and you instinctively grasp his forearm with a reassuring touch. Once you notice what you’re doing, you let go of him with an embarrassment like he’s burning you. “I- I don’t really know what happened, all of the sudden I just felt… sick.” With your confession, a wave of nausea infiltrates your stomach and makes you feel a little queasy again. It’s climbing to its previous intensity quickly. The fossilized church feels like it could cave in on you at any moment. 

Father Pike touches your shoulder softly, “I’m going to go get you some water, okay?” You nod and the waning gleam in your eye sends him swiftly disappearing into the crowd. 

A decent number of paces away, an older woman looks at you with fear as Lucy speaks to her, no doubt explaining your abrupt qualm. Drawing any more attention than you already have will just worsen your panic, so you thwart the drama. You raise your hand at her with a thin-lipped smile to deter her worry and she places her hand over her heart with a happy sigh before walking away.

Father Pike reappears behind Lucy and drifts by her with your drink clutched tight in his hand. Lucy’s eyes flit from the priest’s chivalry to your shy, measly form and she raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth with a scoffing smile. You could read your best friend’s face better than written word: she thinks that you’re doing this on purpose to get the Father’s attention. 

You wish you could say you were reeling him in with salacious spite, however, you were anything but. Your illness was true and unforgiving. You shake your head at her in defiance, but you can tell she doesn’t buy it. She turns away to busy herself with the rest of the party, but really she’s intending to give the two of you some privacy from the wink thrown over her shoulder. With a roll of your eyes, you think about how you’ll have to defend yourself with a foolproof case under her gavel later tonight. 

Father Pike retakes his seat next to you, handing you the bottle of water, unopened, that your puny fingers struggle with. Kindly, he offers his hand and you pass over the bottle for him to open. He hands it back to you and sits hunched over his lap, hands clasped between his open legs, staring at you intently as you take a few slow sips. You feel a little awkward, looking down at the bottle in your hands and fidgeting with the wrapper on the outside, so you take a note from his book and try to lighten the mood, “I knew I wasn’t a big fan of parties, but I didn’t know I was this bad.” You chuckle dryly, risking a glance at him. It works: he’s laughing with you. 

“I’m not a big party person, either,” he smiles, his dimple creasing within his beard. You raise an eyebrow at him, a little befuddled by his statement, given he inserts himself into the lives of others for a living. He takes your hint, “I enjoy talking to people, giving sermons and all of that… but even this feels a little overwhelming for me.” You nod, finding comfort in the fact that you’re on the same page. He keeps that endearing smile with a measuring eye as he continues watching you, looking from the crease of your brow to how your legs squirm uncomfortably. 

There’s something about this man that makes you feel… transparent. Like how you felt exposed to him earlier, even underneath all your coarsely knitted layers. You feel like a fraud, sitting next to one of the holiest figures in the entire congregation. And for some reason, out of all of the people here, you feel that he deserves the truth. There’s nothing about him that has given you any indication that he won’t turn on you like the rest would if you confess to your disguise, but at the same time… he makes you feel safe. Of course, he just recovered you from some undisclosed blight, but you can write that off as convenience. You were sick, he was right there, certainly he would’ve tended to you. There must be some moral code within the priesthood to never let a sick person lie. But even before that, putting aside his obvious handsomeness, there was something in his eyes that held you. Let you know that it was all okay. You decide to ply him with honesty. 

“Um… so, I’m not very religious. Like, at all.” Your voice is a little shaky, worried if his nice-guy facade will finally melt away to reveal a sneering orthodox. He doesn’t seem to have a reaction, so you keep going. 

“So, if I’m not religious, and I’m drinking this, does that mean…” You trail off in question, and he doesn’t understand what you’re getting at. 

“It’s holy, right?” You raise the water. 

Father Pike looks like he can’t believe what you just asked. He shakes his head in amusement, void of condescension, leaning the slightest bit closer towards you. He lowers his voice slightly, protecting you from any invasive ears. He softly explains, “Just because it’s water in a church doesn’t mean it’s holy. A priest or some other figure has to bless it.” His smirk deepens at your visible relief, “You’re not sinning, or anything near it. You’re perfect.” 

He said you’re… what? Your heart skips again but this time it’s not from sickness. Well... is it sick to be attracted to someone who is virtually untouchable? You get to thinking; you know enough about the church and its inner workings to know that priests usually take a vow of celibacy. Consequently, most never date or get married. Does that mean… are they barred from all things sensual? Are they allowed to tenderly brush their fingers against someone else’s, and not for the purpose of prayer? Can they share a glance that lingers a little too long for it to be considered chaste? Can they… can they even think about anything remotely sexual? 

There’s no way that can be true. You can understand physical celibacy, sure, but it’s impossible for one not to have a thought that makes them quiver at least once in their life. In your own experience, sensuality sometimes has nothing to do with sex. You’ve felt the warmth of eroticism lying under the sun’s rays in the middle of spring, savoring a delicious meal, when you finish a book with a satisfying conclusion. If Father Pike starves himself of such pleasures, you can’t fight the pity that chokes you. 

“What if they have priests at the packaging plant?” You joke, hoping to simultaneously break the silence that has swelled between you two and put a wedge in your brain’s cogs so they’ll stop churning. 

Father Pike laughs, genuinely from his belly, and oh you could get used to that sound. His eyes crinkle at their corners with a grin, “Then the church would be thrilled at our outreach.” 

You go to take another sip of your water, but his hand comes out to touch yours. The impossible delicacy almost makes you flinch. He puts gentle pressure on your skin, making you stop in your tracks. He shifts closer to you, his voice dropping an octave, warning you, “I’d be careful though; there is a possibility that you could grow rotted fangs and hairy feet, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Your fluttering nerves make your laugh squeak out of your tightened throat, louder than you intended, in a bark. Slightly mortified, you hide your smile behind the hand that isn’t suspended in the air by Father Pike. With mercy, he releases you. 

“What about a rat’s tail?” You ask with a teasing glint in your eye. 

He ponders for a moment, comically deep in thought. “That only affects the most sinful of us,” he reveals. 

...What? That was flirty, right? It had to be flirty. There’s no way he didn’t mean it to be flirty. Your imagination can be very active at times, but there was no mistaking the twitch of his mustache to repress a smirk. 

Trying to ignore the furious heat that has instantaneously kindled between your thighs based on that singular tone change, you latch the bottle to your mouth and avert your eyes elsewhere. Out of your periphery, you think you see Father Pike’s shoulders droop and his gaze lower to the ground with a silent huff. Shit, did he take your silence as a blow to his humor? 

You can’t think too much now because the clocks outside in the streets resound ten chimes. Lucy appears and her beaming at the two of you seems to rejuvenate Father Pike a little. He straightens his back before he stands and they begin talking, shaking hands. Their mouths spew unintelligible babble to you as your entire nervous system is locked on one thing: Father Pike’s back. His gorgeous personality had swept you up and away into a cloud of bubbly giggles and blushing cheeks that you hadn’t noticed what he was wearing. Maybe if the robes had made a greater impression on you, they would’ve served as a reminder to restrain yourself from dreaming about the forbidden, but alas. 

Father Pike is dressed identically to the other priests: black clerical shirt, cassock, pants, and shoes, and a white tab collar. But he wears everything so much better. The garments are majorly obscured by the enveloping cassock, but even the thick, flowing fabric can’t hide the broad width of his shoulders. When he gestures with his hands, you can see the muscles move dreamily in reaction by the flickering candlelight. He’s tall, and this fact is only emphasized as you continue to sit motionless on the pew watching him and Lucy. 

When he turns with a hand outstretched to help you to your feet, you bite your lip with ravenous desire. Somehow you didn’t notice - probably because you were too enthralled with everything else about him - how his Adam’s apple sits on glorious display with the white tab collar as its pedestal. The tempting image makes you swallow hard. God, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. 

“Time to get going,” Lucy says, motioning from behind the Father’s back for you to take his hand. You do and stand, drifting to the front of the church on autopilot. It feels like the calm quiet of your time with Father Pike and the chummy, sociable atmosphere of the dinner has dissipated and a sense of urgency has taken root. The friendliness remains in the goodbyes and promises of meeting again you hear all around you, but you’re definitely being ushered out with the rest of the herd. You guess, remembering a tidbit about religious folk, that they have a curfew. 

It feels like you’re being ripped away from Father Pike and you don’t like that. Although you’ve only known him for all but two hours - which sounds ridiculous when you put it like that - you’re desperate to know more. You’d find genuine, complete contentedness in simply watching him go about his daily activities. Recording what details he decides to give you privy to and admiring his boundaries when he reserves himself. He’s the first possibility of a new friend in this conservative township and you don’t want to let him go. 

You’re grateful that he ghosts your back as Lucy leads you to the entrance, it gives you comfort and makes this dream last as long as it can. You don’t sense just how close he’s following behind you until you get to the heavy front doors and the toe of his shoe snags on the heel of yours. It makes you trip and fumble forward, but Father Pike reaches to catch you. His hands grip your waist, molding your oversized sweater to your body. Then, he gently steadies and pulls you back upright. The foreign sensation of your flattened heel tickles your foot and sends you stumbling back into his chest. He looks down at you, his hands still on you, “I-I apologize.”

Through the darkness you see the tips of his ears glow red. Before you can say anything in return, he renders you speechless by getting on his knees. Without a word spoken, moving in tandem with implicit choreography, you lift your foot up so he can fix the heel back into place. He doesn’t give you the choice of wobbling on your lonesome, placing one of your hands on his right shoulder to keep you balanced. And god, you wish he hadn’t done that. 

Your lips part as your breaths gain some weight, but you snap your oblong mouth shut when you hear an ancient, warbly voice. “Oh, no, what have we here?” Father Gala teeters over just as Father Pike finishes retying your shoe. Imperceptibly, you squeeze his shoulder in reverence as he stands up and then you let your hand fall innocently to your side. 

You shrug, giggling a little uncomfortably, “Father Pike stepped on the back of my shoe, it was an accident.” 

“Young and clumsy,” Father Gala jokes, you think, with a grumbly tone. He claps a hand on Father Pike’s left shoulder with more effort than you thought the old man could muster. As Father Pike steadies the elder priest’s cane, you reason he more so fell into Father Pike than anything else. Your favored Father chuckles with accountability. 

Father Gala passes off his cane for a moment to take your hand in his two, like he did when he gave you the dinner plate earlier this evening. Clearly the party has tired him out; his hands are quivering and his back is permanently bent at an angle. “Peace be with you,” he croaks with cheerfulness, despite his withered voice. 

You freeze. You know you’re supposed to say something back to complete this exchange and from the innermost depths of your brain you think it should be a simple phrase, something that any ardent Christian would remember. Between your disinterest in the church and the Father Pike fog that has eclipsed your mind, you’re dumbfounded.

An angel appears in your midst and comes to your rescue: Father Pike, peering into your eyes over the shoulder of the crouched figure before you, mouths the words silently, “And also with you.” 

“And also with you,” you recite amicably. Father Gala smiles, pats your hand twice in delight and turns to give Lucy the same departing sentiment. You release the air of worry you held inside and take a few steps to meet Father Pike, whispering close by his side so only he will hear, “Thank you.” 

The handsome Father closes your height difference by leaning down and pretends to brush some invisible dust off of your shoulder, an excuse to be this close to you. 

“Don’t mention it. Your secret’s safe with me,” he murmurs. 

And you trust him to keep his promise. Sure, he could go behind your back and spill your lies to the other priests, the entire community, let them know that there’s a rat infiltrating their congregation. 

The mischievous sparkle in his gaze as he looks at down you, biting your lip to suppress your giggle and keep your little inside secret just that, tells you he won’t let one word slip. 

Father Gala has returned for his cane, so Father Pike clears his throat and stiffens himself. Clasping his hands together, he builds an appropriate distance between the two of you before anyone sees it was anything otherwise. 

The night winds have picked up, biting at bits of exposed skin with a malevolent appetite. To shield the older priest, Father Pike guides him back into the cathedral. “I hope to see you two back soon,” the handsome Father interjects as you’re turning to leave. 

“We’ll be here Sunday!” Lucy shouts over an unnatural gust that howls and warbles her voice. With one arm over each other’s shoulders, holding tight together, you begin the trek back to her house to take refuge for the night. Behind you, you hear the cathedral doors shut, sealing you off from a final parting glance to Father Pike. You aren’t too disheartened by that and the cold can’t gnaw at your heart, either; Sunday is only two days away and you can’t contain your excitement. 

—— 

The whole night has felt like a whirlwind. To your complete and utter surprise, visiting the church is no longer seems like it’ll be a chore, but rather an opportunity. For what, you’re not exactly sure just yet. But you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks and skirting down your spine at the infinite possibilities. Maybe you should start praying for your salvation now.

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series masterlist ♥️ main masterlist ♥️ join my taglist!

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[thinkatoryprocess]

All right, so here are all of the fic prompts that I could scrape up/remember. If I'm missing anything, let me know. It'll be nice to have a reference post. See below!

Romewilla - Roman and Willa meet at a party, hit it off, and decide to work together as a creative team. Eventually the chemistry is too much to resist. Dead Kendall AU - In which Kendall actually dies in the pool, and everyone tries to cope. Naomi realizes shortly after his death that she's two months pregnant. We see Rava take Naomi in and Roman and Stewy connect as they try to grieve, and separately a story set in the future with Kendall's teenage daughter with Naomi unraveling the real story behind her father's passing. Roman/Stewy Vampire AU - In which Logan is a vampire hunter who primarily keeps Roman at his side as his backup and sometimes literal punching bag. Stewy is a fairly old vampire, and Roman meets him for the first time only to catch himself more intrigued and amused than he should be; the problem is it isn't the first time at all, and Roman's memories cannot be trusted to tell him what he's been through or what he's missed as years have gone by. Roman pulls back from Logan as he realizes how deeply Logan has used and abused not just his body but his mind. Roman/Eduard "Run" AU - In which, during their brief friendship and connection, Roman and Eduard agreed to reconnect at a specific time and place the moment one texted the other the word "Run." Roman catches this text after his dad agrees to sell Waystar to GoJo, and lives up to his commitment to meet an Eduard who's a shade different than he was expecting. They travel together, away from all responsibilities and expectations, but not without complications. Kendall and his two boyfriends, Stewy and Lukas - Or, the throuple fic. Stewy has been in love with Kendall pretty much his whole life. Lukas, however, has been talking to Kendall a lot since the GoJo deal began, late night connections that eventually tilt towards the sexual. Stewy finds out, tries to earn Kendall's heart in a deeply pathetic but sweet way, and just winds up having sex with him again. Eventually… Kendall has two boyfriends, and everyone is chill. Roman/priest!Mencken Fleabag AU - If you haven't seen Fleabag, don't walk, run. It's amazing and if you like my shit you will adore it, it's absolutely my vibe. That said, concept here is pretty straightforward: Roman's a snarky, weird mess of a person, and meets the priest who's going to officiate Tom and Shiv's wedding. The problem is the priest is aggressively hot and over the course of their friendship (he volunteers for a church event, what is WRONG with him) the priest also clearly wants to fuck him no matter how much they talk around it. Eventually the chemistry explodes. Roman/Mencken pro dom AU - This is also fairly straightforward. Total AU where Mencken is a professional dom who Roman is convinced to attend due to struggling to find someone to fit that outlet who he can trust to be discreet. There are clear professional boundaries. Of course no one would cross them. Of course. (Thinking Romewilla as a sidedish for this one - Roman's girlfriend to the world, who he does genuinely care for and would be aware of what's going on. Eventual polyam.) Tabitha/Roman get married AU - I'm not sure how much more to say about this, but, hey, this would be fun to tease out, what can I say. Roman/Stewy LA AU Roman and Stewy genuinely connect in New York when he's visiting Kendall for a birthday. The problem is that Roman has to fly back to LA, so the whole thing should by all rights be pretty short-lived, but even thousands of miles apart neither of them can let it go. (You know how these things go.) I may be missing something, let me know. Anyway, typing everything out made me think a lot about each of these. I'll be looking back at this. Talk to me about any of this if you want.

[crowlore]

lucian’s comfort character compilation (i will be cheating)

i have been instructed by @huginsmemory​ to “List Five Comfort Characters And Tag Five People”. helpfully, i was already recently provided with a handy list of characters perceived to be Mine™, seen here:

what can i say. i have a brand to maintain and apparently it’s deeply mentally ill characters that spark needless discourse on twitter. i own this. i will be cheating by pairing characters together per listing. order doesn’t particularly reflect anything. i don’t typically tag specific people for these things so consider this post an open invitation to anyone reading to overshare about your favs. GO FORTH

nicholas d. wolfwood. my fucking god. to lead with him feels the most transparent i can stand to be. what is there to even say. he has everything. he's the foil. he's the love interest. he's introduced with one foot in the grave and the other in the church. he's a hitman. he's a priest. he's a bodyguard. kids and single mothers love him. he's an orphan. he's a chain smoker. he shoots first asks questions never. he's screaming and covered in his own blood and hunting you down with a concussion and temporary blindness. he was drowning in foot deep water with seven broken ribs three minutes ago but he's fine now. as a man who once fractured his spine on a rock because of a comical tightrope walking incident and was walking it off two hours later, i relate. something something i could fix him but whatever is wrong with him is way more interesting

minato arisato and ryoji mochizuki (do not separate). uhhhhh persona 3 remake when? please? the earliest installments of this series may have been a bit before my time (not that i even got to play 3 when it was fresh since i didn’t really get a lot of freedom with video games until 2012) so i understand my bias but p3 is still my favorite main series entry to date. and you get TWO depressed moon themed bitches for the price of one with this game? one of them is death. the other becomes an interstellar gateway. i’m a sucker for characters who know each other for a tiny fraction of the larger story but instantly connect like they’ve been waiting lifetimes to meet again. characters whose presence in the narrative is brief but infinitely impactful. one is literally made from the other. what can i say.

goro akechi. while we’re on persona. sorry, we have to get into my Problematic Fav. let me tell you. i’ve been in the fucking trenches. this character is easily 50% of the reason i don’t engage in persona fandom spaces (wrt 5 especially). i love crazy bitches. personally, i love and encourage his violent mania and psychotic tendencies. can’t help being a gemini. can’t help being a foil. he didn’t stop at biting the hand that feeds him; he wanted to chew the whole thing off the arm regardless of who else he had to sink his teeth into on the way. y’all are just still mad that part of that means he can be a pretty unlikable person. at least he was honest with his motivations when you caught him. i get him though. goro’s role in the third act of royal saved the game because you and i both know that new story content wasn’t any good otherwise. he’s there to be a BITCH and keep things REAL. shout out to goro akechi for helping me identify my own dissociative disorder. thanks king

uldren sov and crow. this is a different people, same character sort of situation. sometimes you die and come back with no memories and get to be the same person at heart but placed into a life of extremely altered circumstances and see where that takes you. now i’m aware these characters are kind of divisive in destiny circles (mostly for the wrong reasons). i’ll give it to the people who think he’s being pushed waaaaay too hard into the narrative spotlight in a lot of seasons; that’s totally fair. but he’s had a lot of super compelling arcs surrounding his trauma across two lifetimes. his grief really becomes him. i’m also sincerely just so weak to stories centered around siblings, especially ones dealing with the really harsh and ugly truths regarding emotional abuse in the family and the complexity of familial love.

dimitri alexandre blaiddyd and the blue lions. SORRY. CONTRACTUAL FIRE EMBLEM MENTION. fe16 is the reason i completely left the fire emblem fandom space, even though it’s been a toxic cesspool for the entire decade i’ve been in any way involved with it. dimitri’s another of my twitter assigned problematic favs (the fandom faction wars surrounding this game were insane) and the reason i’m not even on the platform anymore. i have miles wide weak spot for the blue lions’ found family dynamic and was instantly in love with the way these characters played off of each other in established relationships right from the start of the game. their route tells a very complete, grounded character driven story that hit all the right emotional story beats to make the ending really feel rewarding. it was often times uncomfortable, but it was done well in a way that didn’t shy away from a lot of the ugly parts of mental illness that allowed me to feel very seen. i think it held truest to the standard formula of the fire emblem story structure and did so very well, even if silver snow was written first as the intended canonical story route. still my favorite after four years. classic.

[queenshelby]

Gypsy Bride (One Shot)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Virgin!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Mention of Self Harm, Arranged Marriage, SMUT, Loss of Virginity

Total Words: 8,083 (both parts below)

Parts:

·      Part One – Husband and Wife

·      Part Two – Consummating Finally

Notes: I will be writing another One Shot which will be called ‘Goodbye Marie’. This One Shot will follow on from this story but can also be read on its own.

Part One

It was 9am on a cold Saturday morning. You had been awake for several hours already and barely managed to get any sleep at all the night before.

It was your wedding day and you were nervous to say the least. This was a wedding you didn’t want, a marriage doomed from the beginning.

Your father had recently taken over the business of importing heroine into the United Kingdom from his brother who, due to unfortunate circumstances arranged by your father, was shot during police interference.

In your culture, it was customary to only form alliances with people you trust, mainly family. But, since you and your mother were both only children as a result of a curse impaled on your family decades ago, your family was much smaller than other gypsy families.

In cases like this, alliances were formed by expanding family through marriage.

You had no say in the matter and your father was determined to expand his business through such alliance.

So, today, you were to marry Thomas Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders.

You knew that Thomas Shelby was shipping heroine to the United States and had recently lost his supply from the Chinese. The deal your father was offering Thomas was lucrative and allowed the Shelby Family to reinstate most of their fortune which they had lost in the stock market crash earlier this year.

Your father, however, did not trust Thomas Shelby and insisted on a traditional bond between the families.

Thomas Shelby agreed and, since he was the only unmarried Shelby man of age, it was him, a man almost twice your age, who was going to be your husband.

You never met Thomas Shelby and you wondered what he was like.

You heard terrible things about him and you knew that he was both, a politician and a gangster. You knew that he was involved in drug trafficking, running brothels and killings. He was no better than your father who you despised.

You always wanted to turn a leaf on your life, get away from the illegal dealings and make an honest living. But, this dream of yours was now shattered. You were about to marry into the most notorious gangster family in the Small Heath and Birmingham area.

In the weeks leading up to your wedding, you considered ending it. This was the only way out. But then you met a man who was a priest. Every day you remembered his words. There was a purpose for you, you just may have not discovered it yet.

You never believed, but turned to God for advice after your encounter with the priest. You even began to volunteer at the local church community hall to help you keep your mind occupied.

After weeks of volunteering, you requested to be married to Thomas at the church. The priest was reluctant but agreed after you begged for long enough. Your request was granted.

And there you were, in the back rooms of the small church in Birmingham, preparing for your wedding.

As you stepped into your white wedding gown, tears were building up in your eyes. You were not ready for this, but you had to be strong.

You wiped your tears away with the white cotton tissue your mother had given you and pinned up your hair.

A maid was assigned to assist you, but you enjoyed to do your own hair and makeup.

Shortly after you sent your maid away and while you were applying your mascara, you heard a knock on the door.

You hoped that it was your mother, wishing to provide you with emotional support, but, to your surprise, it was a woman who you had never met.

She had dark brown hair and dark eyes. She was attractive and well dressed.

‘I am Polly Gray’ the woman said as she walked into your room.

‘I am Y/N’ you said nervously.

‘I figured’ she said with a laugh as she handed you her flask of whiskey.

‘Drink up Love, I think you need it, you are about to marry my nephew’ Polly said sheepishly as she stepped behind you and tied up your dress.

‘Thank you’ you said before taking a large sip from the flask.

‘You didn’t want your maid to help you with this?’ Polly asked surprised as she wiped away some of the smudged make up beneath your eyes which were still wet and teary.

‘No. I don’t like to appear weak in front of strangers’ you explained.

‘Showing weakness can sometimes be your strength Y/N’ Polly said before she asked you how old you were while she proceeded to help you with your make up.

‘I am 20’ you responded, your hands shaking.

’20?’ Polly said as she stopped what she was doing and sat down across from you.

‘Did you think I was older?’ you asked.

‘Your parents are older than me, so yes, Thomas and I did not expect you to be so young’ Polly said before she lid herself a cigarette.

‘Do you think that Thomas will be disappointed?’ you asked.

‘No Love. Let me tell you something about Thomas’ Polly said before taking a pause.

‘He has not shown any genuine interest in a woman since his late wife passed away. Whilst I disliked her, she was the only woman he ever loved. He didn’t choose you and he will probably not love you, but he will provide for you and ensure your safety. He expects loyalty in return, nothing else. So long as you are loyal, you do not need to worry about disappointing him nor do you need to be afraid of him’ Polly explained, causing you to feel some relief.

Despite the fact that you had never met this woman, she was able to provide you with the reassurance you needed.

‘Now, let’s hurry’ Polly said, standing up and finishing your make up.

‘Thank you, Ms Gray’ you said as she took your hand and smiled at you.

‘Please, call me Polly. After all, you will be family soon’ she said just before she disappeared to the hall.

Not long after Polly had left and you finished getting ready, your father arrived.

‘It’s time Y/N’ he said impatiently, not even bothering to compliment you.

You hooked into your father’s arm as he walked you towards the hall.

The Church was packed. You had many guests, mostly gypsies from different families.

Your heart sank into your stomach as you observed your future husband waiting for you at the altar.

He was wearing an elegant navy-blue suit which matched his deep blue eyes.

His hair looked immaculate and he had his hands crossed in front of him.

He was very attractive and you could barely believe that he was in his late thirties already.

Despite this, shivers ran down your back as you approached the altar. He showed no emotion at all. There was no smile on his face. In fact, there was no expression at all, just coldness.

As you took your place across from him, you observed him gazing over you for a moment, almost like he was assessing you. But his expressions didn’t change. There was no warmth.

You weren’t sure whether he liked what he saw or whether he was disappointed, possibly by the fact that you were much younger than he had expected or perhaps he preferred a different hair colour or larger breasts.

There was an awkward silence between you as you both starred at each other until, finally, the priest began to speak.

‘We are gathered here in the presence of God, family, and friends to unite Thomas Shelby and Y/N Y/LN in holy matrimony’ the priest went on to say before speaking a prayer, as per your request.

Then, it was time for the all-important question.

‘Do you Y/N Y/LN take Thomas Shelby to be your lawfully wedded husband?’ the priest asked.

‘I do’ you said nervously, starring at Tommy.

‘’And do you Thomas Shelby take Y/N Y/LN to be your lawfully wedded wife?’ the priest asked.

‘I do’ Tommy said, his hands still interlinked with each other.

‘Then, by the power vested in me by God, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride’ the priest said, but Tommy made no attempt to kiss you.

‘We might save that one for later, ey?’ Tommy said as he saw the nervousness in your face. You responded with nothing but a simple nod as you reached for his hand.

‘Are we done here?’ Tommy asked before he obliged and took your hand into his as you both stepped down from the altar and walked towards the exit of the Church.

Your families and guests were cheering as the Church bells began to ring.

You couldn’t help it but feel apprehensive and thought that, if the reception was going to be as awkward as the ceremony, this would be a long night.

Outside the church, you and your families posed for a picture before Tommy took you to his car.

There were no white horses and carriages as you had imagined on your wedding day. There was nothing romantic about this at all.

There was an awkward silence as you stepped inside his Silver Bentley. He started the car without saying a word.

You didn’t know what to say yourself and couldn’t even bare to look at him.

Just before you arrived at the reception venue, he looked over to you.

‘I am sorry you’ve been made to do this’ Tommy said, just as he stopped the car.

‘So am I’ you said as you pushed open the car door and walked inside. The weather was dreadful and you didn’t wait for Tommy.

The reception was barely a reception at all. There was nothing but business talk and your husband ignored you for the entire evening.

By that time, you were certain that he disliked you. He didn’t want this marriage any more than you did.

After several hours of easing your pain with champaign while you engaged into meaningless conversations with Arthur Shelby’s wife Linda, Tommy told you that it was time to go home.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like, your new home.

You were hoping for it to be big enough so that you didn’t have to see your husband very often and endure this awkwardness and silence between you.

The drive home was as silent as the drive to the reception venue. Tommy didn’t speak a word to you, again.

At least this gave you time to think about the task ahead.

Your mother had spoken to you about marriage and what it entails.

She had also spoken with you about consummation of your marriage, which was something you were nervous, almost fearful, about.

Whilst, in your opinion, Tommy was very attractive, you have never been with a man before and you wanted your first time to be with someone you loved not someone you just met.

You told your mother exactly that, but she explained to you how important it is to fulfill your wifely duties and keep your husband happy from the beginning and always thereafter.

The truth was that you were afraid of the pain it will entail. You knew it was going to be painful and it wasn’t as if you didn’t already have to endure enough pain on your wedding day. Your mother explained to you that you would get used to it, the pain will fade and, eventually, it becomes nothing more than a chore.

As you finally stepped out of the car and inside Tommy’s house, you were emotionally prepared for what was to come and were probably drunk enough too.

The house was larger than any other house you had ever seen. You couldn’t believe that Tommy was living in the house by himself.

Tommy took the time to personally show you the house and introduce you to the maids. That was probably the most he had spoken to you all day.

It felt somewhat surreal. This is where you were going live now, with your husband, a total stranger.

Tommy told you that you could use every room in the house as you pleased but that you were not allowed in his office or his bedroom.

‘Your bedroom? Will we not be sharing a bedroom?’ you asked, causing Tommy to chuckle.

‘No Y/N, we will not be sharing a bedroom’ Tommy said before showing you your bedroom. You were relieved to say the least.

‘You can redecorate it if you like’ Tommy said as he opened the door.

Your bedroom was large, with a study desk and your own bathroom attached to it.

It was well decorated and felt warm and welcoming.

‘Thank you’ you said turning around, causing Tommy to nod.

‘I have some work to do now. If you need anything, please call for one of the maids’ Tommy said as he excused himself.

‘Goodnight Thomas’ you said, receiving no response.

After Tommy left, you changed into your nightgown and lied down on your bed. But, there was no way that you could fall asleep just yet. You still felt uncomfortable and out of place.

After about thirty minutes, you decided to get up and make yourself a cup of tea. You weren’t used to be served by maids and enjoyed doing things for yourself.

As you wandered through the house towards the kitchen, you heard noises coming from one of the hallways.

Intrigued, you followed the hallway and observed that there was light shining from the reading room which was also where the noises came from.

You carefully approached the room, glancing in from the distance.

This when you saw Tommy, still wearing his suit while being intimate with the young blonde maid Marie to whom you were introduced earlier that evening.

Keeping quiet, you couldn’t help but stare at them.

Marie was being bent over the big oak study desk while Tommy was behind her, thrusting into her harshly and almost emotionless.

He held onto her hips tightly while she was moaning, digging her nails into the solid oak.

After five minutes of observation, you had enough and quietly walked to the kitchen where you boiled the kettle and made yourself a tea.

‘Mrs Shelby, I could have done this for you’ Francis said, startling you as you poured the hot water into the teapot.

‘That’s quite alright Francis. In fact, I enjoy being in the kitchen. Perhaps, if Thomas allows it, I could cook dinner one night?’ you said, waiting for some kind of approval.

‘That would be lovely Mrs Shelby’ Francis said before you excused yourself.

As you returned to your room you couldn’t help but think about Tommy and Marie. By no means did you blame him. But you also couldn’t help it but wonder why he didn’t take any desire in you. Did he rather want to sleep with his maid than his wife?

Was it that he disliked you or was it that he was trying to be kind, not making any advances towards you because you were forced into this marriage.

The next morning you woke at 7am after spending most of the night pondering about your future as Thomas Shelby’s wife.

After you got dressed, you walked downstairs and joined your husband for breakfast.

‘Good Morning’ you said as you sat down.

‘Good Morning Y/N’ Tommy said, glancing up from his newspaper for a moment to make eye contact with you.

‘Have you slept alright?’ he then asked.

‘Yes, thank you. The bed is very comfortable’ you said shyly.

‘That’s good’ Tommy said before continuing to read the paper.

This was all you spoke as you quietly ate your breakfast.

The next few weeks were just as quiet.

Tommy ignored you for the most part and continued to engage in sexual encounters with Marie. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother to hide it from you.

Sometimes they would do it in the reading room, sometimes in one of the guest rooms and occasionally even in the stables.

You couldn’t help it but ask Francis about her and Francis told you that she had only been employed by Tommy for the past eight weeks. She was French and her breakfast was terrible. Clearly, she had other talents which kept your husband happy.

Just as you were in the reading room yourself, looking for a particular book, Tommy approached you.

‘Do you play chess?’ he asked.

‘Do I play chess?’ you asked surprised, closing your book. He didn’t talk to you for weeks and this was the question he wanted asked you? You were in disbelieve.

‘Yes, do you play?’ Tommy asked again as he poured himself a glass of Whiskey.

‘Yes, I do, would you like a game?’ you asked.

‘Yes, I’ve been learning. It’s somewhat boring but also extremely satisfying’ Tommy said, making you laugh.

‘It’s strategic, that’s probably why you enjoy it’ you said while you brushed your hair out of your face.

‘Please’ Tommy said as he turned around the chessboard on the coffee table, indicating for you to make your first move and begin the game.

You made your move and noticed that Tommy’s eyes wandered over to you rather than the chessboard, causing you to blush.

You played for about twenty minutes and began to make conversation, which is when you realised that Tommy had been observing you and taken an interest in what you might like.

‘I am thinking about getting another race horse’ Tommy said. ‘Perhaps you could help me choose one’ he added.

‘Me? Choose a horse?’ you asked surprised.

‘Yes. I noticed that you have taken an interest in the horses and I would like you to accompany me to the upcoming auction’ Tommy said. ‘It would be in my best interest to attend this event with my wife’ he added to justify his request.

‘I would love to attend with you’ you said with a smile.

‘There will be other members of parliament attending the auction and there will be a function afterwards. You will need to buy yourself a dress. Elegant, but simple’ Tommy said as he handed you some money.

‘Alright’ you said before moving your queen. Tommy clearly hasn’t been paying attention to the game.

‘Checkmate’ you grinned.

‘Well well, you just beat me at chess’ Tommy said as Francis walked in to the room with some tea for you.

‘Your wife is a smart woman Mr Shelby’ Francis said, giving you a wink.

‘I’ve noticed. Now would you excuse me, I have some more work to do’ Tommy said, smiling at you for the very first time.

The next day you drove into town to buy yourself a dress. By that time you had already done your research on the horses available for auction and the one you had your eye on was called ‘Emerald’.

It won two races quite recently and was slightly more expensive than the budget Tommy had given you.

With that in mind, you considered it to be fitting to purchase an emerald green dress, elegant but yet simple, just as Tommy had requested.

Over the next week, leading up to the auction, Tommy and you played chess almost every day. He hated losing and was determined to eventually beat you.

Even before the auction, he demanded a game and you made sure that you were ready for him.

A gasp escaped Tommy as you entered the reading room wearing your emerald green dress.

‘Is that alright for the auction?’ you asked shyly, wanting to ensure that Tommy approves of the dress.

‘Just missing one small detail Mrs Shelby’ he said as he handed you a box covered with black satin.

You opened the box and, inside, there was a diamond necklace with matching earrings.

‘Thomas’ you said, being stunned by the pieces of jewellery.

‘You will need to fit in Y/N. After all, you are my wife’ Tommy said as you turned around and he placed the neckless onto your neck.

After you looked at yourself in the mirror, you and Tommy played a quick game of chess before making your way to the car and drive to the auction.

At the auction, Tommy introduced you to everyone as his wife but, as usual, he kept his gestures to a minimum. He held your hand once, maybe twice, for show.

You were well spoken and engaged with the other politicians’ wives. The topics that were spoken about were of no real interest to you, but you played along for Tommy’s sake.

Later, at the function, you mingled with the same women while Tommy engaged in pollical discussions with members of parliament and judges.

You couldn’t wait for the night to be over, you were bored beyond belief.

Finally, Tommy told you that it was time for you to leave. He had further business to attend to at the Garrison and you requested that he take you along.

He reluctantly agreed and, as you arrived, the Garrison was packed with drunk men.

You were glad to see Polly and Ada again as you arrived and engaged into conversations with them before their business meeting with Tommy.

But just as Tommy turned his back on you and gave some instructions to Arthur, you were approached by another patron.

‘Good Day Love’ he said, not receiving any reaction from you.

‘Woman, I am talking to you’ he said harshly after you tried hard to ignore him.

‘Sir, please leave me alone’ you said patiently as, all of a sudden, he grabbed your wrist harshly.

‘Love, I can pay well you know. So, whatever offer you have for tonight, I will double it. It is rare to find a whore as pretty and clean as you’ the man said.

‘Get your hand of me. I am not a whore’ you said as, all of a sudden, you heard Tommy approach.

‘Ay, this is my wife you are talking to’ Tommy said harshly, pointing his gun at the man.

‘Mr Shelby’ the man said with a scared voice.

‘Now apologise to her and then fuck off before I blow your head off’ Tommy said angrily.

‘My apologies Mrs Shelby, I didn’t know’ the man said with embarrassment, his pants wet before he made a run for the door.

‘Did he just piss himself?’ Arthur said with laughter as he gave Tommy a nudge.

‘Fucking hell…this is no place for woman like you Mrs Shelby’ Arthur laughed but you weren’t in the mood for jokes. The man had grabbed your wrist harshly and you were somewhat scared by his determination.

‘Are you alright?’ Tommy asked, his hands running over your upper arms.

‘I am fine Tommy. I am sure it was just a misunderstanding’ you smiled.

‘I don’t care. No one speaks to my wife like this’ he said.

‘Now let’s get you a drink, ey? What would you like?’ Tommy asked.

‘Whiskey please’ you responded.

‘Irish or Scotch?’ Tommy asked.

‘Irish’ you responded.

‘Well, we have something in common then’ Tommy said with a smile as he asked you to join him for the business meeting.

‘Perhaps we are yet to discover a lot about each other’ you said, causing Tommy to chuckle.

‘Most people do this before they get married’ Tommy said as you followed him.

You stayed at the Garrison for another hour before you made your back to the house.

The drive was much more pleasant than before and, even though you may never be lovers, you had now found things to speak about with each other.

‘Will you have another glass of whiskey with me?’ you asked Tommy as you arrived at the house and he handed Francis both of your coats.

‘I suppose why not’ Tommy said as he walked you to the living room.

Tommy poured each of you a glass of whiskey before sitting down on the lounge next to you.

‘I enjoyed today, thank you’ you said.

‘And I enjoyed your company. You did well with all of these arrogant bastards’ Tommy smirked, causing you both to laugh.

‘You don’t like politicians much do you?’ you asked.

‘No, I fucking hate them’ Tommy smirked, causing you to laugh again. After all, he was one of them.

You talked about politics and horses for quite some time until you changed the topic.

‘Tommy?’ you said all of the blue, before pausing.

‘Yes?’ he asked curiously.

‘It is none of my business but, do you love her?’ you asked.

‘Love who?’ Tommy responded.

‘Marie. I know you have been sleeping with her’ you said.

‘No, I do not love her. I do however enjoy her company, although not so much for making conversation’ Tommy said with a chuckle.

‘Do you enjoy my company?’ you asked shyly, looking down at your glass.

‘In a different way, I do’ Tommy said.

‘In a different way, but not in the way a husband enjoys the company of his wife’ you said.

‘Listen, Y/N, neither of us have asked for this marriage. It was your father who insisted and the business between me and your father is extremely lucrative as you know. If I would have known that you are…’ Tommy said, and before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him.

‘That I am so young?’ you asked before pausing, causing Tommy to sigh. ‘If you would have known, you would have forgone the deal?’ you added.

‘I would have asked your father to consider a more suitable match, a trusted man of mine closer to your age’ Tommy said.

‘Well, it is what it is Tommy. There is no turning back now’ you said, taking another sip of your Whisky, before standing up.

‘I think Marie is waiting for you’ you smirked before excusing yourself.

As you walked to your room, tears were running down your face. You couldn’t help it but, for some reason, you wanted Tommy to be a husband to you.

Were you falling in love with him, the man you were being forced to marry? Are you asking for the impossible? Being loved by a man like Thomas Shelby?

You were devastated by thoughts that he would rather be with his maid than with his wife and wondered why he didn’t see you the way you now wanted to be seen.

First fearful about being with him, you now wanted to be with him and you certainly didn’t want him to be with your maid.

As you went to bed that night, you remembered what your mother had told you about keeping your husband happy in order to achieve a fruitful marriage.

You also remembered that, when your mother and father were in disagreement about matters or your mother was worried about your father’s indiscretions, she would add a little spark to their marriage with a nice meal and paying her wifely duties.

With that in mind, you decided to take things further the following week after Tommy returns from his business trip.

Part Two

‘Good Evening Mr Shelby, how as your trip?’ Francis asked as Tommy arrived back home.

‘Fine, thank you’ Tommy said, handing Francis his coat while Marie grabbed Tommy’s bag.

‘Mrs Shelby prepared dinner sir’ Francis said.

‘She did?’ Tommy asked surprised.

‘Yes, sir. She is waiting for you in the dining room’ Francis said.

‘Do we have guests?’ Tommy asked, causing Francis to shake her head.

‘No sir, just you and Mrs Shelby and she said that you do not wish to disturbed’ Francis said, causing Tommy ponder before he excused Francis, allowing her to finish some of her chores.

‘Will I see you later Thomas?’ Marie asked, causing Tommy to nod before walking to the dining room.

As he entered the dining room, he saw you sitting at the table wearing a beautiful but yet revealing black satin dress and the diamonds he had bought for you to wear at the auction.

Your hair was open, long curls falling over your shoulder.

You were wearing dark eye shadow and red lipstick and your skin smelled like musk and flowers.

‘Good Evening Thomas’ you said with a smile.

‘Is this a special occasion?’ Tommy asked, causing you to shake your head.

‘No, I just thought I would cook something nice for my husband’ you smirked before calling Marie for some wine and telling her that she may serve dinner.

‘You know she will probably burn whatever you prepared’ Tommy said jokingly. He knew that you were very well aware that serving food and food preparation wasn’t one of her chores.

‘I am sure she’s got other qualities’ you said cheekily.

As you talked and ate together, you discovered that Tommy had a pretty bad week.

Amongst other things, he told you about a man called Mosley whom he had met in London two days ago and problems with one of the judges. After that, you moved on to discuss more pleasant matters.

‘Would you like a game of chess and a whiskey to end the day?’ you asked as hours had paused.

‘Alright’ Tommy said and it wasn’t until you got up from your chair and walked with him towards the reading room that he saw the entirety of your dress, which complimented your curves.

‘You look beautiful in this dress Y/N’ Tommy said, not sure what else to say in that moment.

‘We have been married for 6 weeks now and this is the first time you have complimented me’ you said with a smile.

‘I didn’t consider it to be appropriate’ Tommy said as he sat down next to you, handing you a glass of whiskey.

‘I am your wife Tommy’ you smiled. ‘Do you not find me attractive?’ you asked.

‘I do. But, considering the circumstances surrounding our marriage and your age, making any advance towards you would have interfered with my conscience ‘Tommy said.

‘And I am grateful for that Tommy. But, whilst I can be in a loveless marriage, I cannot be in a marriage without any emotion at all’ you said suggestively.

‘So, what do you suggest?’ Tommy asked.

‘I suggest that we consummate our marriage and give it the chance it deserves’ you said, causing Tommy to chuckle.

‘Consummate our marriage, ey?’ Tommy said. He was surprised by your proposal.

‘Yes, unless you rather fuck your maid than your wife’ you said sheepishly and with a smirk. It was clear to Tommy that you were being sarcastic and he began to like this mischievous side of you.

‘Well then Mrs Shelby, shall we go to my room or yours?’ Tommy smirked.

‘Mine’ you said determined as you stood up and offered him your hand.

As you and Tommy arrived at your bedroom, Tommy closed the door behind you while you crossed to the bed to turn on the bedside lamp.

The light was just enough to show him all that he needed to see and no more than you wished to reveal.

Tommy walked over towards you as you stood next to the bed.

Leaning in from behind you, he swept your hair over one of your shoulders and pressed a kiss against the back of your neck while one of his hands dragged the zipper of your dress down tooth by tooth.

Slipping his hands beneath the fine satin, Tommy pushed the dress downward and letting it fall to the ground.

Taking a step back, he admired you, studying every tiny detail of your entire body.

Watching you turn, Tommy reached out and a smile flitted across his lips when you slid your hand into his before stepping up flush against him.

‘You haven’t even kissed your wife yet’ you said shyly before leaning in and pressing your lips on Tommy’s lips.

His lips were soft and tasted like Whiskey. He was a good kisser and it wasn’t long until his tongue found its way into your mouth.

The kiss soon became urgent and heated while Tommy’s hands moved behind your back, unclipping your bra. It landed on the floor right next to your dress.  

His hands were urgently exploring every part of you and you could feel his erection press against you.

As he ran his hands over your firm breasts and breathed deeply, it was clear to you now that he desired you.

‘Tommy?’ you said with a hasty voice as his hand wandered lower, wanting him to slow down. Your heart was pounding by that time and some apprehension had set in.

‘Yes’ Tommy said while he took off his shirt, letting it join your dress in holy matrimony.

‘I haven’t done this before’ you said with some embarrassment as you rested your hands on his bare chest while your eyes were exploring his tattoos.

‘You have never had sex before?’ Tommy asked with slight worry in his voice, causing you to bite your lip and shake your head.

‘Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Tommy asked, running his hand gently over your cheek.

‘Yes Tommy, I am sure. I want to be yours’ you said.

‘You are mine regardless Y/N’ Tommy said with a slight laugh as he caressed your face. In his mind, he had already claimed you. You were his wife.

‘Please Tommy, I want you’ you said with a smile.

‘Alright, I will take it slow then but you must tell me if I hurt you’ Tommy said concerned, causing you to nod. It’s been over 20 years since he had been anyone’s first and this was not something he expected having to encounter again.

Tommy’s touch became gentler almost immediately and you loved the softness of his fingertips on your skin.

His fingers were exploring every corner of your body, for now steering clear from your most intimate parts, while your tongues danced in sync with each other.  

After some more passionate kisses, you let your eyes rove over the expanse of his chest and down the ridges in his torso, which was an area of his body you didn’t dare to look at until then.

You bit the corner of your lip shyly as you pushed the zipper of his pants down with a single fingertip, the fingers of your other hand relieving the button.

You almost let out a soft laugh when Tommy let out a sigh of relief as the pressure lightened considerably around his bulge which was now hidden only behind the thin fabric of his briefs.

Even through the fabric, he seemed huge and for a moment you doubted your decision but then you looked up at him and every ounce of niggling doubt was erased from your mind as his blue eyes gazed into yours.

Tommy stepped out of his shoes and let his trousers nose-dive to the ground as he stepped forward, guiding you back to the bed that stood center stage in the gigantic room.

Brushing his fingertips across your cheek, Tommy rubbed the curve of your side and laid you gently back on the bed.

‘I think I got lucky, having such a beautiful wife’ Tommy said as he lowered himself onto the bed and before exchanging another passionate kiss with you.

Tommy’s lips soon made their way from your mouth to your neck and then over to your breasts.

Every little kiss or touch made your heart gallop within your chest, your blood pounding through your veins, soaring through your body at speeds greater than that of light or sound, or so it felt.

Brushing your fingers through Tommy’s hair as he explored your body, you caressed his cheek and stared down at him, your hips rising subconsciously as Tommy teased the soft skin of your abdomen with tiny kisses and nibbles.

There was a fleeting moment of second guessing when Tommy’s fingertips edged beneath the lacey edge of your panties but as soon as he kissed the skin he revealed it was gone.

Your hips were again rising as Tommy removed the scrap of dark fabric from the apex of your thighs to reveal a silky smooth mound of flesh and the now engorged rosebud of your clit.

Hearing him gasp at the sight, you blushed but followed it with a moan as Tommy leaned down and kissed it once, the length of his tongue sweeping out to take a taste of your secret delicacy.

This was something you didn’t expect. What on earth was he doing?

As you were completely naked before him and he was so close to your most intimate parts, you felt more vulnerable than you had ever been in your entire life but you didn't regret it.

Everything that Tommy did to you in that moment made you jump out of your skin in the most wonderful ways possible.

After he gently ran his tongue over your slit a few times, Tommy told you to relax as he pulled gently at your leg and you slowly let them fall open.

You tried hard not to tense up and, even though you didn't know what he was planning on doing, what he did so far felt good so you were willing to give all of yourself to him.

‘That’s it’ Tommy said after you took a deep breath and relaxed your body.

Tommy took this moment to dip his tongue inside of you gently, causing a loud moan to escape you.

His tongue was skilled, moving in and of you slightly while his hands pressed your legs apart gently.

Tommy then moved his tongue over your clit, flicking it slightly and causing you to make a high pitch noise of some sort.

‘Tommy’ you moaned at the sensation. It was almost too intense.

You closed your eyes as waves of pleasure coursed through your body while Tommy kept pleasuring you with his tongue.

When Tommy's fingers finally brushed against your entrance to join his tongue, you gasped and jumped.

‘Tommy’ you moaned but were also slightly worried about what he might do with his fingers.

Tommy’s erection was throbbing from within his briefs but he knew very well that he would have to take it very slow. As much as he wanted to be inside of you right then and there, he was aware that there was some preparation to be done.

With trembling fingers Tommy gently spread your virgin lips open and let his finger brush against your clit while his tongue continued to run through your folds.

He heard her sharp intake of breath from you when he guided his finger inside of you carefully while his tongue played with your clit.

By that time, you were soaked and he could feel the juices coating his finger.

As he pushed his finger deeper inside of you, he could hear your soft cry of surprise and you arched your back up suddenly.

‘Just relax’ Tommy said as he could feel no resistance inside of you.

He pressed you gently back to the bed and dropped more kisses against your virgin lips before circling against your clit again.

You closed your eyes tight and held your body completely still.

‘Tommy, oh god’ you moaned as he moved his finger in and out of you slowly, over and over again.

You were tight around his finger and had no idea how he would possibly fit his cock inside of you.

It wasn’t long until you moved your hips upward, showing Tommy that you were enjoying what he was doing to you.

Tommy sucked hard at your clit, loving it with his tongue as he slid a second finger inside of you carefully and started sawing it in and out.

‘Tommy’ you cringed at the pressure, causing him to slow down again and holding his fingers steady until the pressure eased.

When he could feel you relax, he began moving his fingers in and out of you again and it wasn’t long until you felt a very unfamiliar tightening in your belly.

‘Tommy, oh my god, please don’t stop’ you begged as your breathing started coming out heavier.

Unlike you, Tommy knew that you were close to having an orgasm and he increased the pressure of his tongue around your clit while continuing to move his fingers in and out of you.

Still unsure about what was happening inside of you, you grabbed onto the sheets as, suddenly, a feeling of ecstasy rushed through you.

‘Tommy, fuck’ you screamed, not being able to control yourself while your orgasm washed over you.

Tommy couldn’t help but smile against your flesh as you coated his fingers in your juices.

After you had come down from your high, Tommy slowly pulled his fingers out of you and moved up the bed to kiss you passionately.

You could taste yourself on Tommy’s lips. It was strange, but you enjoyed it.

‘I don’t know what just happened. I hope the maids didn’t hear me’ you said totally embarrassed as your lips drifted apart.

‘If they didn’t then they are clearly deaf’ Tommy laughed.

‘Oh my god, how embarrassing’ you said. ‘I didn’t expect…’ you said, and before you could finish your sentence, Tommy interrupted you.

‘You didn’t expect it to feel that good?’ Tommy asked, causing you to shake your head.

‘Well, Mrs Shelby, I will make you feel good every day from now on’ Tommy grinned before kissing you again.

‘Is that a promise Mr Shelby?’ you asked in between more passionate kisses while your hand moved in between his legs and beneath his briefs.

‘It’s a promise’ Tommy said as he let out a small groan as you began to stroke his hard cock.

He was thicker than you had expected and your nervousness returned in an instant as he took off his briefs.

‘We can wait if you want’ Tommy said as you continued to stroke his hard cock with your hand.

‘No Tommy, I want to feel all of you’ you said with a gentle voice before Tommy ran his hands lovingly over your legs, pushing them apart all the way, much further than he did earlier.

You took in a deep breath as you gazed into Tommy’s blue eyes while he rested himself in between your legs.

He smiled and kissed you softly. You knew that, what was about to follow would hurt. Nonetheless, you wanted him inside of you so badly.

‘We will take it slow, alright?’ Tommy said with a reassuring voice.

You brought your arms up around Tommy’s neck and pulled his lips to yours, kissing him softly once again.

‘I trust you’ you said, looking deep into his eyes after your lips drifted apart.

With his look fixated on you, Tommy reached down between your legs and grasped his cock in his hand before rubbing his tip against your soaking entrance.  

You moaned softly as you felt the head of his cock pressing against you. But, as soon as you could feel him push inside of you, you inhaled roughly.

‘Tommy’ you moaned as he slowly pressed forward with his hips.

 You couldn’t help it but gasp as you felt him start to enter you.

You dug your hands into his shoulder and held onto him tightly as you felt yourself being stretched.

‘Fuck’ Tommy groaned lightly, trying to force himself to go slow. It took more willpower than he had expected not to simply plunge into you as you were incredibly tight around him.

Pushing into you slowly, inch by inch, he finally felt your barrier. He stopped and looked down at you.

You gave your husband the look of approval as you tightened the hold on his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Tommy leaned down, pressing his lips onto yours just before he nudged forward and slipped past that barrier.

As your fingernails dug into the flesh on his shoulders, Tommy swallowed your moan that was different from all the others you let loose earlier that night.

It was indeed painful and some small tears escaped your eyes as he filled you completely.

Tommy kissed away your tears before cradling you against him as he paused once more, giving you some time to adjust.

It was killing him to hold still but he wanted to wait until you were ready.

As you adjusted to him inside of you, the last sliver of pain disappeared and was overtaken by pleasure.

Tommy could feel you starting to relax and move beneath him as he continued to place small kisses on your neck.

He moaned as he felt your small movements and it tugged on his cock.

It wasn’t long until he began to move himself, small and gentle thrusts to start with.

Your thighs clenched and your toes flexed, your hips rising in vain to meet his again only to be pressed back into the bed when he sank back into you.

‘Oh god Tommy’ you moaned loudly. You could've screamed right then and there, from the highest point on the face of the earth, from the insane amount of pleasure you felt.

‘You are so god damn beautiful’ Tommy said as he continued to thrust into, picking up in speed and force.

Your nipples grazed his chest every time your hips collided as your movements became syntonised with his.

Every movement he made, no matter how small, brought a new sound out of you, your voice cresting and dropping to new highs and lows that you never even thought you would reach let alone soar passed regularly.

His thrusts soon became more urgent and you pressed into him firmly, wanting him to burry himself into you over and over again.

By that time, you had lost count of how many times the pressure had built within the cradle of your hips only to explode like a weapon of mass destruction, bringing copious amounts of toe-curling, eye-clenching amounts of pleasure so great that it seemed impossible that the next surge would ever top its predecessor.

By the sounds of your moans, Tommy knew that you were getting close to another orgasm and he was getting so close himself.

He held tight to your hips as he drove hard and fast in and out of you, making you whimper with need.

‘Oh my god Tommy, yes’ you moaned and begged slamming back against him the best you could.

Your body was wound so tight you felt like your body was going to come apart any second.

Your legs began to shiver and your walls were tightening around him as your orgasm came at you like a freight train.

‘Tommy’ you screamed at the top of your lungs, sending him over the edge also.

You came in sync with each other and, with the next thrust, he filled you with his warm cum and coated your insides, flooding you just as you did the exact same thing to him.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned as his thrusts became sloppier while you both came down from your highs.

Moments later, Tommy collapsed next to you before pulling you closer for a kiss.

‘Are you alright?’ Tommy asked, running his hands over your cheek.

‘Yes’ you said quietly but with a big smile on your face.

‘The next time will be easier’ Tommy said, causing your eyes to light up.

‘You know I will hold you to the promise you made me earlier Tommy’ you said.

‘I was hoping that you would’ he grinned before wrapping his arm around you, pulling you onto his chest.

‘Will you stay with me tonight?’ you said as Tommy was brushing through your hair with his fingers.

‘Yes. Tonight and every night from now on if you want me to’ Tommy said gently.

Your body felt relaxed and at ease and, for the first time in six weeks, you felt comfortable in your own bed with your husband right beside you.

That night, he showed you a side of himself you hadn’t seen before, a side you were seeing yourself fall in love with it.

With Tommy holding you close, it wasn’t long until you drifted off to sleep.

But you weren’t the only who felt relaxed and at ease.

Tommy watched you sink into your dreams and a smile emerged on his face. He felt a familiar warmth washing over him, something he thought he wouldn’t be able to feel again.

As he turned off the bedside lamp, he felt a happiness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Unlike other nights, he wasn’t afraid to drift off to sleep because he knew that, tonight, there would be no nightmares and no memories of Grace, there would only be you.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Present from Mukami [PART 1]

ー The scene starts in Yui’s bedroom

Yui: Today’s Christmas Eve, huh...?

( When I was still living with Father, we were always extremely busy during this time of year with preparations for the Christmas Mass. )

( We would decorate the church for the Mass...or make tons of sweets to hand out to the children as gifts... )

( Somehow that feels like part of a distant past now... )

Haah...

ー Kou enters the room

Kou: Heya~! M-neko-chan~!

Yui: ...Kou-kun?

Kou: No need to act so surprised, right? What’s wrong? You seem kind of down?

Yui: Um, could you please knock on the door before entering? I’d really appreciate it...

Kou: Eh~~? Why bother going through the extra trouble?

Besides, I live here, remember? My house, my rules, no?

Yui: H-Hm...That might be the case, but...

( I have a feeling he won’t understand... )

So, why are you here? Is there anything you need from me...?

Kou: Hm~~? I only came to hang out because I was bored~

Yui: I see. Are you off from work today?

Kou: Exactly! Today’s my first free day in a long time!

Anyway, more importantly, M-neko-chan. You were talking about how it’s Christmas Eve today earlier...Right?

Yui: Yeah...I had a bit of an ‘oh, right!’ moment.

Kou: ‘Oh, right’...? You’re talking as if you only just noticed.

Yui: Yeah...But I really did recall only now. It totally slipped my mind...

Kou: To think you’d forget about such an important event! Is everything okay, M-neko-chan?

Yui: I mean, you guys don’t celebrate Christmas, do you?

Kou: Hmー Well, we’re Vampires after all. We obviously don’t feel like celebrating it, nor are we interested.

Yui: ...Figured as much. There aren’t any Christmas decorations inside the house either...

Besides, I haven’t gone out much as of late either...

Kou: Now that you mention it, you’ve just been going back and forth between here and school without making any additional stops, huh?

If you were to head out, you’d discover that the whole city is in a Christmas mood. 

There really is no way to look past it, whether you like it or not...

Yui: Yeah, but I haven’t gotten a chance to go look...So I completely forgot...

Kou: Hmー...

Ah, say, M-neko-chan? How have you spent your Christmas Eve in the past?

Yui: Eh...?

Kou: I mean, I don’t know how normal families celebrate the holidays.

Yui: Hm...Right. My personal experience might be a little different from the standard though.

Kou: Heeh? In what way?

Yui: You know that my Father works as a Priest, right?

Kou: Ahー I feel like I heard that somewhere before.

Yui: We hold a Mass at church on Christmas day, so we have to prepare for that the night before.

Kou: Prepare? Like the Christmas lights they put up in town?

Yui: Yeah. Ours weren’t quite as elaborate, of course.

On the day of the Mass, the visitors light a candle, take a seat and pray...

Then afterwards we read passages from the Bible.

At the very end, someone will play the orgle and everyone sings together.

It creates such a lovely medley of singing voices...I loved that part.

Kou: Hmm, I see...But is that actually fun?

Yui: Yeah, it is. It is an important day to me after all.

( It’s a day full of memories of the time I spent with Father as well, after all... )

Kou: Hmー So that’s how it is. I mean, I don’t really understand but...Oh, I know!

The other day, this one person at work told me that Christmas Eve is a special day you should spend with your lover. (1)

Have you ever spent Christmas Eve with a special someone before?

Yui: No...I was always helping out for the Mass at Church after all...

Kou: I see...

ー Ruki enters the room

Ruki: The two of you are making a ruckus. At least close the door when you’re talking.

Yui: Ah, Ruki-kun...Yuma-kun and Azusa-kun as well. What’s the matter?

Yuma: We just happened to run into each other in the hallway. Ya guys were talkin’ hella loud.

Yui: S-Sorry...

Azusa: Eve and Kou...The two of you seemed to be having a fun chat.

Kou: Really? It wasn’t anything special though.

Ruki: Anyway, Kou, come with me. Livestock, you stay in your room.

Yui: S-Sure...

Kou: Eh~~...? Oh well, whatever. I got to learn something new at least.

See you later, M-neko-chan~!

ー The four of them leave

Yui: They left...

( Somehow it suddenly got quiet. )

( ...Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded talking for a little longer... )

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Kou: ...Say, say, Ruki-kun. Why don’t the four of us throw a Christmas party?

Ruki: Haah...I was wondering what you would bring up all of a sudden.

Kou: I mean, M-neko-chan seemed kind of sad, you see~

She was raised at a Church, right?

So it seems like Christmas and such brings back a lot of memories for her.

Yuma: So that’s what the two of ya were talkin’ ‘bout earlier, huh?

Azusa: ...Say, what is...Christmas?

Kou: Ah, are you interested, Azusa-kun?

Christmas itself is on the 25th of December and the day before that is called ‘Christmas Eve’.

It’s the day on which they celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ~

Azusa: Heeh, then...Today is the 24th so it’s...Christmas Eve...right?

Kou: Exactlyー! So I was thinking we could hold a little celebration?

Ruki: Azusa, did you not celebrate Christmas back when you were still human?

Azusa: ...We did not have that kind of celebration...

Ruki: How about you, Yuma?

Yuma: Hmー... Now that ya mention it, I do feel as if the city was a lil’ more lively ‘round this time of year...I think...?

I might have celebrated it back when I was a child, but I forgot.

Kou: I’m pretty sure my answer should be obvious but...Ah, you must have celebrated it, right, Ruki-kun?

Ruki: Well, yes.

Kou: Makes sense. You are a rich boy after all~

Azusa: Say, Ruki? How exactly do you celebrate it...?

Ruki: You decorate the inside of the house, say your prayers to God and enjoy a meal with the whole family.

There’s special foods and snacks which are only enjoyed on that particular day of year...

Also, you would exchange presents...I suppose that about sums it up.

Azusa: ...Exchanging presents...I honestly don’t care about the exchanging part. I’d much rather just be on the receiving end of all the punches...

Kou: Ahaha...Putting your wishes aside for a second...

Don’t you want to try and hold a Christmas party?

We’ve never really done something like that with the whole family, right? Come on, why not?

Ruki: Family, huh...?

Yuma: That bein’ said, Vampires celebratin’ the birth of Christ is kinda fucked up, no?

Kou: Should we not? Do you think he’ll be upset with us?

Ruki: ...Well, while I doubt he will be thrilled about it, that man has connections to the Church of his own, so he might understand in a sense.

I doubt he will condemn us if we hold a small celebration at home.

Kou: Right~? In that case, let’s get this party rolling~!

Ruki: Yuma, Azusa. What do you two think?

Yuma: ...Ahー...

Azusa: ...

Yuma: Oi, Kou. The Sow’s havin’ a rough time, right?

Kou: Yeah, she is.

Azusa: I...personally don’t care much about the party itself but...I don’t want...Eve to be sad...

Yuma: Nnー Well, it’s not really for her sake, but I don’t see any harm in doin’ this sorta stuff for once?

Ruki: ...

Kou: Fufu~ In that case, we just need permission from Ruki-kun...~!

Ruki: Haah...You’ll all be helping out, including during the clean-up, understood?

Yuma: Oh! Which means...

Ruki: Exactly...I suppose it will make for a nice change of pace.

We haven’t really spent much time together as a family up until now after all.

Furthermore, pleasing Livestock is part of our duty as her masters.

Kou: Hooray~~!!

In that case, we need to get started with all of the preparations!

Azusa: ...

Ruki: Oi, Azusa. Where are you going?

Azusa: I figured I’d go...tell Eve that we’ve decided to hold a party...

Kou: Eh!? You’re going to tell her?

Yuma: Aah? Should we not?

Kou: Hmー Don’t you think this is a perfect chance to make it a surprise?

Yuma: Surprise...? The fuck’s that?

Ruki: It means to catch them by surprise. In other words, you keep it a secret until the very second they arrive at the party...

Kou: I’m sure she’ll be ten times happier than if she already knew about the party beforehand!

I’m an idol, remember?

So I’ve had people throw a surprise birthday party for me before. 

I felt so happy back then!

Yuma: Hm. Is that how it works? Well, fine by me.

Ruki: Azusa, you’ve heard us. You don’t need to go inform her.

Azusa: Mmh. Understood...

Kou: Hmー Holding a Christmas party is fine and all but...

Yuma: The problem’s how to prepare for it. We need to decorate the place, but I have no fuckin’ clue which decorations to pick.

Azusa: I wonder what kind of...dishes we should serve...?

Kou: Let’s leave that part to Ruki-kun.

Ruki: Right. Just leave the cooking up to me. Which leaves...

ー The scene shifts to Yui’s bedroom

Yui: ( Hm...It’s a little chilly in here... )

( I’m pretty sure quite some time has passed since the others left as well. I wonder what they’re up to...? )

( Right. I suppose I’ll check up on them while I go grab myself a hot beverage. )

ー The scene shifts to the hallway

Yui: ...

Kou: Let’s leave that part to Ruki-kun.

Ruki: Right. Just leave the cooking up to me. Which leaves...

Yui: ( Ah...Kou-kun and Ruki-kun’s voices... )

( I wonder what they’re talking about...? )

Excuse meーー

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Ruki: ...Oh...

Kou: Eh? M-neko-chan!?

Yuma: ...Ya sure have the worst timin’, huh...?

Yui: Eh!? I’m sorry. Should I not have come in...?

Azusa: No, it’s fine...We were just talking about throwing you a surprise Christmas party

Yui: Eh...?

Kou: Waiーー!! Azusa-kun! What are you saying!?

Azusa: I mean...It’s not like we can still cover it up at this point. If we try and hide it...We’ll only end up making her uncomfortable. ...Right?

Ruki: Yes, Azusa, you are absolutely right. We could have always sent her back to her room, but I’m sure she would have been worried about us secretly scheming something behind her back.

If we upset her, we’re basically rendering our intentions null.

Yuma: Haah, I mean, that’s true but...We could have at least tried to keep it a secret...

Kou: Haah...Guess there’s no point now...

ーー And with that being said, we shall now commence with the preparations of the Mukami family’s very own Christmas party~!

Yui: Eh...!? We’re holding a Christmas party together!?

Yuma: That’s what we said earlier, remember? Are yer ears still workin’?

Yui: No, they are but...I’m just shocked...

I’m just wondering if it’s okay for you all to celebrate Christmas even though you’re Vampires?

Ruki: You don’t need to worry about that.

Kou: Exactly! Don’t fret over the small details~!

Are you not happy? You get to celebrate with us!

Yui: Of course I am...! I’m just surprised, that’s all.

Kou: I don’t think there’s any time to be surprised though? We have to hurry up and  prepare or Christmas will be here before we know it!

Yui: Ah, right!

Kou: Okayー! Let’s get started with these preparations right away!

Azusa: Eve...We’ve never held a proper party before...Can you tell us what we should do...?

Kou: First off, it’d be a great help if you could give us some pointers on how to decorate the house.

Yui: Well, we have to make actual decorations first...

Ruki: I assume it would be much quicker to just head to the store rather than explaining it here first.

Yuma: Good point. I doubt I’ll understand from some explanation alone.

Azusa: ...Yeah...

Ruki: There you have it. We are heading out at once.

Yui: Sure!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the department store

Yui: ( I never thought I’d one day go shopping with all of the guys like this... )

( That alone counts as a Christmas miracle. )

Yuma: Whatcha been grinnin’ ‘bout this whole time?

Yui: Ah, right. I’m just so happy we’re all able to go shopping like this...

Yuma: Heh, you’re gonna find yerself lost ‘gain if ya keep yer head in the clouds like that. Wouldn’t be the first time after all.

Yui: I...I’ll be careful.

Kou: Fufufu, so you’re aware of it at least.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( It’s not that I actually walk away by myself though... )

Ruki: The food’s next on the list, huh? Oi, is there anything in particular you’d like to eat?

Azusa: ...I’d like something doused in plenty of red chili powder...

Ruki: ...Azusa, let’s try and stick to Christmas food this time.

Azusa: ...Fine...

But what exactly is ‘Christmas food’...?

Ruki: Hm...

Yuma: ...We don’t know if our personal preferences fit the holiday spirit after all.

So shouldn’t we just leave that choice up to the Sow?

Kou: Exactly. That’s why we called her over, so the two of you should talk it over and make a quick decision.

Ruki: ...I suppose it cannot be helped. That seems like the most time-efficient solution. 

Livestock, what did your family eat for Christmas?

Yui: Let’s see...I suppose Turkey or Roast Beef are both staples on any Christmas dinner table!

Ruki: You’re only naming meat...

Yui: Of course, we eat salad as well? Mixing in vegetables cut into cute shapes and such...

Yuma: The fuck does that mean? All veggies are the same, right?

Yui: You can use cutters to shape them like hearts or stars. I guess you’ll get an idea if we go to the deli counter...?

Yuma: Ready-made dishes?

Yui: Ah, I didn’t mean we have to buy anything, but I figured we could gather some inspiration.

Yuma: Geez, I thought ya were gonna take the easy way out. It’s a party after all.

So we’re obviously gonna make everythin’ at home from scratch, right?

Yui: Yeah! Of course.

Ruki: I suppose it’ll give us an idea of what we can make. Well then, let’s go buy the ingredients first.

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: I’m glad we got our hands on some delicious-looking meat!

Ruki: Yes. I’m looking forward to preparing it.

Yui: ( I managed to buy everything I need for the cake as well, so I’ll try my best at making it! )

( I hope they’ll like it... )

Kou: Say, let’s go pick out a tree next! The biggest one they have!

Yuma: Geez, are ya a lil’ kid or somethin’?

Yui: Fufu, you’re interested in decorating it, right?

Kou: I mean, it’s all sparkly and pretty, right? Just like me, no?

Azusa: Let’s buy lots of star-shaped decorations...

Kou: Come on, Azusa-kun. Don’t ignore me.

Azusa: Eh...? Ah, yeah...Sorry...

Yui: Do you like stars, Azusa-kun?

Azusa: Yeah...They’ve got these sharp and pointy ends...So I’m sure they’d hurt a lot...

Yui: S-So that’s why...

Ruki: Azusa, you better not think of tainting those stars with your blood.

Kou: Exactly! Today’s Christmas after all, a day you are meant to enjoy with your family!

Well then~ Which one to buy?

ー Kou runs off

Ruki: Oi, Kou. Don’t run off by yourself. 

I won’t allow for any extra purchases. We’ll only buy the necessities.

Kou: Eeeeeh~? Whaaat~? You cheapskate!

Ruki: I don’t mind being a cheapskate. This is important money we’ve received from that man.

I can’t be wasteful with it.

Kou: Well, I get where you’re coming from but...

Yui: ( Everyone seems to be having fun. )

( Like this, it almost seems like we’ve become an actual family... )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Phew, we bought more than I anticipated.

Yuma: That’s ‘cause Kou kept on wantin’ to buy all this shit, right?

Kou: Eeh~? You’re blaming me? Fufu, I won’t deny it. However, we didn’t buy anything we didn’t need, right?

Yuma: I mean, we didn’t, I guess...

Ruki: Let’s go over everything one more time. Is this pretty much everything we need for the tree and decorations...?

Yui: Yeah! We’re all set!

Yuma: We’ve got the vegetables I grew at home as well, so this should do.

Kou: Aah~ We’re actually celebrating Christmas. I can’t wait!

Ruki: Kou, you’re being way too excited. Mind your manners.

Kou: Oh come on, let me be! I never got to experience this as a child after all!

Yuma: Well then, we’re gonna be busy once we get home~!

Yui: Speaking of which...Where did Azusa-kun...? Ah, there he is!

( I wonder why he’s just standing there? )

Azusa: Say, Ruki...

Ruki: ...? What’s the matter?

Azusa: I want this knife...

Yui: K-Knife...?

( Why is he holding a knife...? )

Kou: Hold up, Azusa-kun, where did you get that?

Azusa: ...Why not? I want this to give me pain... 

Yui: A-Azusa-kun! What are you saying...!?

Ruki: Azusa, go return it to the store.

Azusa: Please? ...The shape of this blade is so pretty, and it looks very sharp as well...

Ruki: No means no. Azusa, you have to put it back where you found it.

Azusa: No way....But I want it so badly...I can’t give up on it...

Yui: Azusa-kun...

Azusa: ...Come on, I want it, no matter what...

Kou: Azusa-kun! You don’t need a knife on a fun day like this!

Azusa: No...This is special...

Yui: ( What to do? Azusa-kun’s not giving in at all. )

Yuma: Oi, at this rate we’ll never make it back home.

Azusa: Then...Can we buy it?

Yuma: Just listen to Ruki for today. Ya can buy that crap whenever, right?

Azusa: ...

Yuma: God, listen up...

Ruki: Azusa.

Yui: ( O-Oh no...Ruki-kun started getting angry as well. )

U-Um, Azusa-kun...

Yuma: Ya stay out of this.

Yui: B-But...

Yuma: Geez, guess it can’t be helped. I’ll go bring it back with him.

Ruki: My bad, Yuma.

Yuma: Yeah. ...Come on, Azusa, let’s go.

Azusa: ...No.

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah! Yuma-kun! If you grab him by his collar like that, you’ll hurt him....

Azusa: Ah...It hurts...I can barely breathe...Haah...Amazing...Uu...

Yui: ( A-Azusa-kun is...happy? )

Ruki: Azusa, don’t cause Yuma too much trouble, okay?

Azusa: Yeah...

Yuma: Che! Ya say that but you’re already bein’ a pain in the ass! Come on, walk by yerself already!

Azusa: Nn, but...It’s suffocating...

Yuma: That’ll fix itself if ya just use yer own damn legs, no?

Azusa: It’d rather stay like this a little longer.

Yui: ( He’ll be okay, right? Yuma-kun’s with him after all... )

ー Yuma walks away with Azusa

Ruki: Let’s go. We’ll head back first and get everything ready.

ー Ruki starts walking away

Yui: Eh? Don’t we need to wait for them?

Kou: Yuma-kun may be with him, but knowing Azusa-kun...

Yui: ...?

Kou: Azusa-kun has a hard time letting go of things once they pique his interest.

Yui: I see...

( It might take a while until they get back... )

I hope it won’t turn into a fight.

Kou: Hmー I guess that’ll depend on Azusa-kun’s behavior?

Ruki: What are you two doing? Let’s go.

Kou: Roger~!

Yui: ( Yuma-kun’s actually quite good at looking after others, so we can leave this up to him, right...? )

*TIMESKIP*

 ー The scene shifts to the living room

Kou: Phew~ These were so heavyー

Ruki: Good grief, I’m exhausted...

Yui: ( We’ve got quite a lot of bags... )

Ruki: Well then, we’ve got no time to lose. Let’s start preparing.

If we procrastinate for too long, we’ll only waste time.

I’m heading towards the kitchen to get started on the food.

Kou: Gotcha~!

Guess I’ll get started with the decorations then.

Ruki: We’re counting on you.

Kou: Roger!

Yui: Ruki-kun, I’ll help out as well!

Ruki: Yeah, that would be great.

Kou: I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll make for us!

Yui: Mmh! I’ll try my best to make something delicious, okay?

*THUD*

Yuma: Honestly, I went through fuckin’ hell and back!

I’m never cleanin’ up Azusa’s mess again!

Yui: S-Sounds like they’re back. He seems really upset though. I wonder what happened...?

Ruki: I assume Azusa threw one of his stubborn tantrums. Oi, Livestock.

Yui: Y-Yes!

Ruki: Go pass on this message to them. Please tell them they should get started with their own tasks.

Yui: Yeah, sure. I’ll go tell them.

ー The scene shifts to the hallway

Yui: Welcome back, you two.

Azusa: If I don’t get that knife, I’ll...I’ll...

Yuma: Aah, let it go already! What’s so damn nice ‘bout that knife anyway!?

Azusa: ...

Yui: ( Seems like they don’t even realize I’m here. )

( That being said, if I leave them be, they’ll run late with their preparations. )

Um, you guys! Welcome back!

Azusa: ...Wah...You startled me.

Yuma: Aah? The fuck, Sow? You’ve been standin’ there this whole time? 

Yui: Yeah...Um, Ruki-kun has already started preparing everything, so he’d like the two of you to help out as well. 

Azusa: But, the knifeーー

Yuma: Ya really don’t know when to give up, huh? We’re done talkin’ ‘bout that!

Azusa: ...You blockhead.

Yuma: Speak for yerself!!

Yui: ( O-Oh no... )

( I can’t leave things like this. I have to stop them somehow... )

U-Um!!

Azusa-kun, Kou-kun has started on the decorations, so can I rely on you to help him with that?

Azusa: ...

Yui: Both me and Yuma-kun understand very well just how badly you want that knife...

But we have to get on with the Christmas preparations now, so I’d really appreciate it if you could help out...

Azusa: ...What about you?

Yui: Eh?

Azusa: What will you do?

Yui: I’m going to make the Christmas cake.

Azusa: ...Okay. I want to try your cake, so I’ll forget about the knife...For a while, at least...

Yuma: ‘For a while’, my ass! Forget ‘bout that thing forever!

Yui: Shh, calm down, Yuma-kun.

Azusa: I’ll go help Kou then.

Yui: Yeah, good luck.

ー Azusa walks away

Yuma: Heh. You’re really startin’ to get the hang of how to handle that guy, huh?

Yui: Y-You think so...?

Yuma: Well, whatever. Anyway, Ruki’s already in the kitchen, ya said?

Yui: Yeah, I think he’s getting everything ready to start cooking.

Yuma: I’ll go get some veggies from the garden then.

Yui: Ah, Yuma-kun! Could you maybe let me have some fruit to use for the cake?

Yuma: Roger. I’ll make sure to grab a few, so ya get yer ass over to the kitchen ‘kay?

Yui: Yeah, thanks!

ー Yuma walks away as well

Yui: Well then...

( I’ll try my best to bake the best cake ever as well! )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) While the holidays are often associated with family in the West, Christmas and especially Christmas Eve are strongly linked to couples in Japan. 

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[ Part 2 ] →

[voidbeans]

Bestie I don't know if you still want asks but. Tell me about the fantasy novel? I am very intrigued

HELL YEAH HELL YEAH HELL YEAH

*rubs hands together gleefully*

ok so there is literally. so much going on in this. there are multiple different storylines and just. ok. (putting a read more here because this is going to get. long)

So: world stuff. There are four kingdoms. There's one in the center that is kind of the main ruling kingdom, the others surrounding it are all under it (they all have rulers of their own but those rulers answer to the ruler of the central kingdom) (i'll get to him in a second). Each surrounding kingdom is dedicated to either the past, present, or future. So like the kingdom of the past is full of historians and scholars, who believe that the past is what shapes everything, that the only way to move forward is to follow the the examples set by history. The kingdom of the present is full of those who are focused on the now, the mercenaries and merchants and soldiers who believe that the most important thing is living in the moment. And in the kingdom of the future, there are the inventors, the prophets, and the beastmasters.

The beastmasters. Are certainly something. They're a type of inventor, I guess you could say. They build... creatures, out of metal and wood and whatever materials they can find. Creatures that move, that serve, that occasionally even make noise. They say it isn't magic, but no one quite believes them. No one really trusts the beastmasters.

All of these kingdoms are kind of.. well, they're a bit hostile toward each other, due to their differences. They're a ticking time bomb about to go off. Most of the hostility is aimed at the kingdom of the future, however, as most believe that the work they do there goes against the gods and their path.

The gods!! There are three gods, or one god with three faces/aspects. It depends on who you ask. Those aspects are the Judge, Jury, and Executioner. There are seperate churches and priests for each aspect, and each order has a different purpose (priests of the executioner tend to oversee war and, well, executions, they have a reputation for being quite violent).

Oh!! Also!! There are lands bordering the kingdoms. There's the Icelands, which are. Well. Full of ice. Very dangerous. There's the Wastelands, which are basically a desert. And the Woodlands!! A huge forest. It's said that any way you go through any of them, you will come to the mountain, home of three ancient seers.

now!! the characters. there are a lot so bear with me here.

So. there's the royal family, the one that rules from the central kingdom. they are:

King Reyne!! Reyne is. So so dear to me. He's neurodivergent and has an anxiety disorder (projecting time babey) that often affects him worse than he lets on. He's super insecure about his ability to rule, and he's under a lot of stress right now due to the growing hostility between the kingdoms i mentioned earlier. But he's an incredible king and a really good guy, just in general.

Queen Lilah!! Reyne's wife. They were an arranged marriage, and while the two of them are not romantically involved, they love each other very much and Lilah is a strong support for Reyne. She's also a badass. Will beat you up if you insult anyone she cares about. Has a bit of a temper (understatement of the century)

Matti!!! Mathias. Prince Mathias. Reyne and Lilah's son, heir to the throne. He takes after his father a lot. He's very curious and has trouble letting things go. He becomes convinced that someone's trying to betray his parents and the kingdom, and that.. kind of consumes him. I'm so excited to write him he has a brilliant storyline.

Ok and then there's the other people involved with the above family!!

RHYS. RHYSANDER FLORENT BLACKWOOD MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED. The king's advisor (and boyfriend), a total sweetheart with something of an edge to him. He, Reyne, and Lilah have this little chosen family thing going on that's really sweet. They're all each other's support and strength.

Silverfish. Silver is... the queen's spy, gatherer of information, sometimes gives advice too. Lilah wants it to also do assassinations, but it refuses to kill (will give the order to kill, but will not do the killing itself). No one really knows where Silver came from, and most don't trust it, but Lilah does. It never lies.

Alright moving on to other storylines: so y'know how no one likes the kingdom of the future? yeah, that's currently much worse due to some strange and unexplained happenings throughout all four kingdoms. Everyone thinks that it's the kingdom of the future angering the gods. So Reyne sends out a team to investigate these happenings peacefully, made up of a beastmaster from the kingdom of the future (he's cool. has an eyepatch. acts kinda bossy and like xe's in charge. a bit of an asshole, but genuinely cares), a knight from the kingdom of the present (trans woman. can and will kill you if you talk shit about her. has a wife. she's literally the coolest), and a historian from the kingdom of the past (Loren!! Loren is babey. the youngest member of the team, hasn't been in a fight in their life. unlike most of their fellow historians, doesn't hate the kingdom of the future and actually uses some of their technology in their archives (trained clockwork ravens, babey!!)). These guys get into so much shit.

Meanwhile, in the mysterious prison pit of despair run by knife monks: it's a prison. it's a pit. run by spooky dudes in hoods who sometimes take the prisoners and train them in their ways. There's a princess there, imprisoned for the massacre of her family (which she insists she had no part in). She's stuck with an annoying cellmate, a thief who broke into the prison just to see if she could. They're trying to get out.

And finally. there is Faraday. Faraday... is a prophet. He travels around preaching that the gods are dead and that the people must learn to take their fates into their own hands. No one likes that. He's wanted in literally every town everywhere. He's determined to prove that he's right, and believes in himself fully. Everything he says could potentially be true or false. No one knows. Probably not even me. He's. I'm so excited to work with him he's so fun. Has a little genderfluid bard that follows him around, hoping for a good story out of it (Ridley my belidly).

Those are.. the basics. But there is a lot. But I love it so much and I'm so excited about it and aaa thank you EVER so much for letting me ramble about this it means the world to me (and so do you) <333

[harritudur]

because every ship needs its ‘we accidentaly got married in Vegas’ AU, so here the noabeth version (AO3 link) 1860 words + pg-13 + no beta, we die like men!

Elisabeth wakes up to a headache, her head pounding too heavily to her liking. As she becomes more and more conscious, her eyes slowly crack open. This is… not her room. Then she notices a cheap plastic ring on her left hand (the kind of ridiculous rings you get for 2$ from capsule-toys distributors) and a warm lump curled against her side.

Well fuck.

The memories of the last 24 hours come flooding back:

—the fly to Las Vegas —the international congress about renewable energy sources —the four boring hours of conference she attended to (without sign language interpreter, thank you) —the open-bar on the second floor —the tall blonde man she already run into two weeks ago in Berlin, and couldn’t stop thinking about since then —his fingers as he tried to remember the few words in sign langage his mother taugh him years ago —his face as he explained his presence to attend the conference of Dr… something? about… doctrines? or was it churches? —his eyes dancing on her bare knee when she crossed her legs —his name she couldn’t stop mouthing between glasses of vodka —N-O-A-H —his hand, warm on her low back when they left the bar —his lips pressed to hers in the elevator —Noah —his arms around her waist as they walked out the hotel —alcohol —music —his mouth —the irresistible perfum she breathed in when her nose brushed the soft skin beside his ear —alcohol —the flashing lights —his mouth —more alcohol —a song —his fucking delicious mouth —giggles —a chapel —a kiss —a hotel room…

She stops and checks under the sheet.

THANKS GOD! Her shirt and skirt are still on.

With great care, Elisabeth stretches to observe her partner in crime. Even turned towards the wall as he is, she can tell he is still sleeping by the quiet rise and fall of his bare shoulders. She decides to take a more attentive look at him and the first thing she notices is a plastic ring of the same quality than hers on his left hand. Oh God. Then, the edge of a tattoo catchs her eyes, linen covering most of his back.

Leaves? Maybe flowers?

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Elisabeth pushes the sheet away to reveal the entire tattoo. A tree, with a classic design. Its branches large and full of leaves and fruits (apples), and its roots deep in the soil, each ramification, each bisection leading to a name. Religious names, but from different faiths.

Beautiful.

It’s only when he shudders lightly that she realizes her fingertips were tracing over the ink on his back. By the vibration she feels under them, he is murmuring something and her hand moves away.

After a few yawns, Noah turns over, and a soft smile begins to work its way across his face when his eyes land on Elisabeth.

“That dream again…” he whispers, so faintly she can’t read his lips. But his brief delight disappears when a violent migraine encircles his skull. He blinks, and remembers a few drinks, a few laughs, a few kisses, and… what else? He can’t tell. His incompetent brain makes him groan and Noah covers up his face with his left hand. As he does, something not supposed to be there touches his cheek, and he blinks again before muttering. “What the-”

A silly plastic band around his ring finger. “-fuck??!!”

The memory of his own voice singing loud and off-key Bruno Mars’ Marry You starts to haunt Noah’s ears, and the face of an Elvis Presley in a white rhinestone jumpsuit with a priest’s collar pops right into his mind.

“… oh. Oh.”

Everything is spinning a little around him, but pieces by pieces, the puzzle of the last night starts to reconstitute itself.

“Hm wellllllll… so apprently, we drank a lot,” Noah says as he sits up, cross-legged, and is now facing his wife. “And… we got married.”

The calm in his tone can not be heard, but Elisabeth sees it on his lips, his face, his attitude, his body… This whole situation seems absolutely normal and not upsetting for him, and she just wants to scream.

With great suppleness (which Noah remarks by an eyebrow-raising), Elisabeth reaches for her purse on the ground by the bed, and takes out her loyal notepad and blue pencil to write.

you’re not freaking out?

“Not really, no” he replies, shrugging. “And… It was your idea after all.”

She has to make him repeat the last part, because there is no way that she is at the initiative of this non-sense. Noah repeats the same words, with that astounding calm, and Elisabeth rolls her eyes in a cocky way. She writes down on a new page, in capital:

IMPOSSIBLE

“Yes. Your idea.”

Her head shakes. No. She is a rational woman. A reasonable woman. Sure, this Noah is sexy and hot and funny and smart and courteous and totally her kind of guy and she is definitely attracted to him… but no. No way! She is not the instigator. Or, is she?

Noah smiles at her gently and her chest suddenly tightens. Fuck.

After a tilt of his head to ask for permission, he takes the notepad from her hands and flippes through the previous pages. In doing so, Noah can go back in time, can witness and find passed conversations, and he eventually stops at one page. He smiles again and shows it to Elisabeth.

There, in blue, little hearts all around, a shaky handwriting that she identifies as hers:

<3< 3 marrY ME pleas e <3</i>

“If I remember correctly, you wanted us to get married, and I said no at first -because I thought it had to be a joke. But you almost started to cry. So…” he explains at an Elisabeth deathly pale. “I said yes. And we went to a chapel with an Elvis-priest.”

There is a furrow between Elisabeth’s eyebrows and she just wants the earth to open up and to swallow her. It takes her a long minute to processes the information he just gave and, like a sliver of light through the darkness, she… remembers.

                        [ she nuzzled into his neck, his arms secure around her waist, and breathed him in. He laughed and Elisabeth felt a warmth rush over her. Alcohol or Noah? She moved away to enjoy the enticing sight and kissed him again. And again. And again. Her hands started to dance in the air, before she could even think about it, and signed: marry me. ]

All the details of the night or their chronology are still nebulous. But she clearly remembers *that* moment, and the way she felt. The feelings. The want. The need to have this man. To claim him as hers. Where did such impetuous desires come from?

She looks up and Noah’s eyes are still on her face, but the calm in them shifts into something different. Trouble? Worry? No. Care, Elisabeth recognizes.

He gets off the bed to look for his shirt and she can’t help but huffes her disappointment when he finds it. Now decent (except for his bed-hair), he stands in the middle of the room, hands on his hips in a superhero pose, the one you use when you need confidence and nerve. His face softens into a tender look that makes Elisabeth’s breath hitch in her throat. Again.

“So, now that we’re all better, and sober,“ he says, walking back towards the bed and stops at its edge, “I guess I’ll go get us a divorce.”

A gasp leaves her lips and she sits up straight on the mattress. Divorce. How Elisabeth hates the word. Her parents divorced when she was still in her early teens and, witnessed the torment and tears, and she became determined, more than anything, not to be like them. To marry just once, for good! And with the man of her life.

She shakes her head. One of Noah’s eyebrows arches.

“No?”

She shakes her head once more and this time, mouthes her answer. No.

Noah gulps. It is not the reaction he expected, but it is not an unpleasant one neither. He glances at the end table next to the bed, observing a piece of paper on top. Their marriage licence.

                         [ they tumbled onto the bed, a mess of tipsy giggles and limbs. Noah pulled away to place kisses all over the side of Elisabeth’s jaw and neck, but she grabbed his face to press his mouth against hers. When Noah came up for air, a giant grin spread across his flushed face. She looked up at him with a tired but tender smile, and her fingers found the buttons on his shirt, too clumsy to work properly. “Let me…” he whispered against her lips, hovering just above them and Elisabeth took her chance to kiss him quickly before falling back on the mattress with a sigh. With difficulty, he eventually took off his shirt and tossed it on the ground. When he looked down, Elisabeth was snoring, dead to the world, and he laughed. Tiredness was taking over him as well, and Noah curled-up in the bed next to her. He pushed gently a stand of golden hair off her face before falling into sleep without a second thought ]

He nods.

“Okay?”

i don’t want to divorce. we could try. and i think i like you.

Her eyes glare at him with demand and Noah tries to find arguments against it. In vain. And he figures out how they ended up in this situation: he is unable to say ‘no’ to her (adorable) stubbornness. But is her ‘i like you’ enough to build a marriage on?

“Okay, okay… we can try and work it out,” Noah states as he sits by her side on the bed so she can read his lips more easily. “And… if we look at the situation in a practical way, there are benefits. Tax benefits. Insurance benefits. I read as well that marriage help you live longer!”

She laughs and he notices the dimples from her smile. Once more, her pen moves quickly over the paper.

marital confidences privilege too

This time, he is the one to smile, and his knee touches hers through the sheet.

“True! I mean… if I decide one day to kill people, I could tell you every details, and yet, you couldn’t testify against me.”

She tiltes her head, an almost curious expression appearing on her face as she looked at him. Then a grin, and more writing.

i was more talking about civil procedure for neighbourhood disputes but im in to cover up your murders

He laughs and Elisabeth wishes she can hear the sound of it. She easily understands how drunk-her could have wanted this man to be hers. Noah moves closer, and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to kiss her, but he doesn’t. And a part of Elisabeth wants him to.

Maybe when the time will be right -and after they both have brushed their teeth.

“I will order a very light brunch for two then.”

Noah eventually leans over to kiss her cheek and Elisabeth doesn’t withdraw. She could get used to that.

[xanderwithanx]

Chloe does night-time diary posts on HER tumblr, so I'm going to start doing them here, sometimes. It would be nice if you read it, but, please, don't feel obligated! This is more for me to write.

(I got tired of my normal journal, I guess. It's full of bad poetry anyway. Besides, where's the thrill of losing anonymity in a physical notebook?)

I've basically been asleep and depressed for several days, because I had withdrawal after not being able to get my adhd meds. But, I got it today, and DID THINGS. (This is SO much better than before!)

Today, I went to a small café or restaurant (focused on tea) called Alice's Teacup that was Alice in Wonderland themed! My long-standing obsession with Alice in Wonderland knows no bounds. It was a really cute place. I got pumpkin pancakes, and some really good iced tea. Like... REALLY good iced tea.

Still, it seemed like the entire place was geared towards having a pot of tea and snacks with your friends, which left me a bit lonely. The person I asked couldn't come, and by the time I heard back, I was more than halfway there. Still, I read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and watched Monty Python on my phone, so I still had a good time!

I dressed pretty eccentricly and effeminately all day, but, with my facial hair, I was ALWAYS coded as a man, even by people on the street! Pastels, a stupid hat, a crop top, and facial hair was a winning combination.

On my way, I was stopped by some guys soliciting for charity. I don't make a habit of stopping for strangers on the streets of Manhattan. What if it's a scam? What if I'm being pressured to buy something? What if it's a strange political rant? But, I had already taken my earbuds off, I wasn't in a hurry, and I'm terminally polite. The first guy said he liked my energy, which seemed to come from a genuine place, because I liked his too!

They were asking for donations for a breast cancer charity, the United Breast Cancer Foundation. After a discussion, it seems like the charity helps pay medical debt, medical bills, and other practical needs, which is much better than *some* others I could name. I regretted not being able to give their minimum there, as it was pretty high, but told them I'd give what I could when I got on the website.

I... did not. Money is tight, because I'm bad and irresponsible with money, even though this is more than a worthy cause. I didn't NEED to go to that tea place, and I don't NEED to spend so much money on food. Sure, I can justify it: I wanted to go to that place for so long, and it was near the college anyway! But, if I was responsible with money, you KNOW my friends direct fundraising drives would go first, worthy charities second. Still, I feel bad about it.

Then, I went to the college library, to get books to start my thesis research. I have literally been unable to go to the college itself, aside from getting my ID, so this was great! There just wasn't a reason. It was... very empty. I went to the library stacks, which was deathly quiet and deeply haunted by the old books. I half expected something to pop out at me, as I turned the stacks, but I wasn't even paranoid or anxious. It was like I was in something else's house. I was welcome, but on thin ice.

I picked up an irrelevant psychology book on the "schizophrenia problem" from the 1930s, out of morbid fascination, and quickly put it down when it threatened to shatter in my hands.

Some students walked past (which was a suprise in those monastic basement library stacks), and I added something to their conversation, in a totally natural and casual way. But, omg the poor girls, I made them jump! Luckily, I'm the least threatening person on earth, and we laughed it off.

After a lot of hunting, I got 5 out of my 10 books (for the most part)! (The rest are, sadly, online. I like to read physical copies.) Strangely, I only came in with a list to get 3 books out of 6.

Most of the books I got are about art in the AIDS crisis, which is the core of my thesis, I think, all with different value. One about exhibitions, one about the larger narrative of those gay artists, and another contradicting the larger narrative.

I also got a book about "Art and Homosexuality". Just, the parallel construction of both "art" and "homosexuality" across cultures and times, from earliest history to the modern age. It wasn't on my initial list, but I'm really excited to read it.

Finally, I got a book called "The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel", about the pain and spectacle of punishment in Medieval and Renaissance European art. I'm mainly interested in Italian Renaissance art of the crucifixion--and its masochism--for the second quarter of my thesis.

The rest are online, and Should mostly focus on Bacchus in the Italian Renaissance (especially through art) and what I call the art of "gay liberation", concurrent with the AIDS crisis (i.e. The Cockettes). These two topics make up the last half of my thesis.

I'm SO excited to get started!!

I even got to cross the college's sky-bridges! (The college is a few skyscrapers.) Still, the loneliness and novelty were kind of the same thought. Imagine if I had been here before COVID, or, if COVID hadn't happened. Who would I have been able to meet? What would the college buildings mean to me? Because, for now, they're just buildings. But, I got to see the street from above, and that was amazing!

Just walking through New York--the Upper East Side--on a cool, sunny day was beautiful. It takes 20-30 minutes to get from my place to the college (and the tea place), but it was great being able to listen to my music (a lot of They Might Be Giants on the playlist today) and see the city. You know, people, super cool old architecture being pushed out by terrible new architecture, and pigeons.

Oh my god, the pigeons. I took pictures, but none of them are good. I kept thinking about how pigeons and doves are functionally the same. We domesticated pigeons, which is why they're here, and no one is stopping to notice them? Even the ones that were splotched with pure white, like doves? There's only so many pigeons you can take until they're just white noise and a nuisance, I know, so don't think I'm blaming anyone! But it's so hard to look away from these quirky little birds.

Also, at one point my walk, I was vaping very strategicly. The mental task of searching through library stacks will do that to you, when you already have an addiction to nicotine. I made sure no one was around, and no one would be affected. I stopped on a corner next to an old, ornate Catholic church while the traffic light changed, and I almost juuled right next to a priest! I'm glad I stopped. I don't believe in Hell, but, I would have walked down there myself had I vaped at a priest. Still, the church advertised itself as LGBT+ friendly, so maybe they aren't so trigger happy on the damnation. Either way, I DIDN'T vape at a priest today, which is good.

Once I got back, I spent a few hours watching things with my amazing girlfriend Chloe, who you may know here as @cisphobiccommunistopinions. She is so beautiful, and I love her more every day, every time I see her. God, it's almost been 5 years!

I just wish I could spend more time with her. She's in Virginia, and I'm in New York. Like she said to me earlier, I'm flighty at the best of times, and, with my lack of object permanence for the digital world, I find myself not giving her the attention I deserve, or, the full connection I long to have with her. We used to live together. Luckily, someday we will live together again! All these problems won't be forever, and we can live together again.

We watched a lot of things, but we're pretty deep into Serial Experiments Lain right now. It's a postmodern anime from the 90s, and, wow, do I have no idea what's going on in it. It's about the internet, and potentially schizophrenia as well. However, I'm obsessed! One day I'll be able to crack this artistic code, and it's unreality, thematic knots, and double-meanings. I will probably understand it better on the second watch. I don't see myself in Lain, but I see my 14 year old self in her, when I had just developed schizophrenia. Her cyberpunk fate seems like it's railroaded towards tragedy, but I want to save her, even if it's silly and irrational.

I told Chloe that I was scared about spilling apple cider on my library books, and she referred to it as "The Great Apple Juice Disaster of September 11, 2021." To which I said that it was the second worst thing to happen in New York on that date. It was funnier if you were there, and also were in my brain at the time.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm meeting some online acquaintances from the college's "Queer Srudent Union" at a Japanese Culture Fair in a park. (I do not know which park.) It emphasizes "fun"! I don't know them very well, but they're friends with the one person I know irl, so it should be good.

Tomorrow night, I should Probably head downtown to check out a gallery show by MFA (masters of fine arts) students at Hunter! After all, I was in a group project with one of them, and they're absolutely brilliant. I missed the Thursday gallery opening by a landslide, because of the aforementioned lack of adhd meds and Being Asleep, which I infinitely regret. I could have listened to all the artists and curators talk about their art and exhibition! Maybe I could have even talked with the artists and curators. But, it's best for me to go sooner, rather than later, so I don't forget. And, I REALLY want to go.

It's "This dialogue which happened to be present in all other dialogues" at the Alyssa Davis Gallery. From the email I got, "Each of these works observes a threshold of transition. [...] [These] intimations [are] of a frame of mind shared by the artists. These works perform, record, access, engage, document, and entrap, embalming the viewer within the gallery space."

sgp is a really good artist, by the way. Their work is just next-level. Be sure to check out their art, if you have a chance. Let me link their portfolio: https://saragracepowell.com/

(I highly suspect spg and the other member of my group project ghosted me afterwards, but I understand. I was really in over my head. Still, they're both really sweet and kind people, don't get it twisted!)

I ALSO really want to see The Cake Boys. They're performing at the 3 Dollar Bill in Brooklyn on September 26th. (It's only $15!) They're the only all drag king collective in NYC! (Are... there any Other all drag king collectives out there?) Other than the fact that a lot of them are trans or nonbinary, which I love, this show is a totally non-judgmental competition for over 40 drag kings! I've heard their shows are hilarious and unique.

I just have to wait until I have $15 to spare. I... didn't eat dinner tonight, because I'm irresponsible with my money and don't want to ask my parents for money... again. Don't worry, it's literally fine, and I don't make a habit of doing this!

Which reminds me! For my birthday, my parents gave me a gift card to Lush! I'm definitely going to Lush tomorrow, which will be great. I would describe my personality as "Lush store employee acosting you about a bath bomb demonstration", so I'll fit right in.

I also made a transition timeline, to show how much I've changed on testosterone. For the better, I hope! I really believe I'm becoming, if not Have Become, the man I was always meant to be. It's so strange to look back at who I was not too long ago, and to know the absolute pain I was in. It's also strange, in a good way, to see the man looking back at me in the selfies. I'm so much happier now! Much more candid in my pictures, at least. But, I know that I'm so much more comfortable as myself than I was even 6 months ago. It's strange. Sometimes I think to myself, "I don't pass yet; I'm not who I Need To Be yet." Then, I look at my selfie from today, and... I'm THERE. My mind just hasn't caught up with my amazing, natural, normal reality.

The end. I have to get ready for bed, (even though I could be partying on a Saturday night in the city. I'm lame.) If you actually read this, I am kissing you on the mouth right now. I hope it made you calm down tonight, like a terrible bedtime story. If you didn't read it and just skipped to the end, don't worry: you did the rational thing.

[sol1056]

What are your overall thoughts on Castlevania season 3? So far the season, particularly the last two episodes (especially the 9th episode), have been controversial.

Well, that penultimate episode definitely put me in mind of the famous quote…

Obiwan: “I feel a great disturbance in the force…”

Half of which was probably screams into the void over this seeming betrayal, and the other half was shrieks in delight about confirmed OT3 potential.

On a more serious note, I’ve got a bunch of asks about S3, so I’m covering them all in this one response, because my thoughts come down to one thing.

This season was all about trust.

If we can consider this season (much like S1) to be setup, these episodes are for getting characters into the places and mindsets that the following act will require. So whatever we get in S4, it’ll require that Sypha be accustomed to Trevor’s life as an outcast demon-hunter, that Trevor accept his choices impact more than just him, that Alucard repell intrusions on his solitary guardianship, that Carmilla has a bound forgemaster and solid plans to grow an army, and that Issac has a full-sized army of his own. 

A pedestrian approach would have been all plot: a whole lot of running from one place to the next while shouting exposition. It could’ve ended up a truly jarring tonal shift between what’s basically four separate storylines: Alucard and Cho’s former prisoners, Sypha and Trevor and Saint Germain, Isaac’s journey to find Hector, and finally Carmilla and Hector. Though given they hardly interact after the first episode, we could treat this as two parallel storylines: Carmilla and her sisters, and Hector and Lenore.

(Spoilers behind the cut.)

Instead, Ellis uses these four (or five) storylines to explore different issues with trust, betrayal, and isolation. Sypha and Trevor recognize that St Germain’s unexpected willingness to trust wasn’t born of seeing them as trustworthy, so much as a symptom of St Germain’s overwhelming isolation and loneliness – and they even remark on the similarity to someone else, implied to be Alucard. Who – after his highly guarded and distanced interactions with Sypha and Trevor in S2, followed by a month (or a year, Alucard’s lost track) of total isolation – has come to the same place as St Germain. 

In both cases, those finales pivots on whether this third, isolated person can be trusted, as well as whether that person can trust the pair that claims to be helping. St Germain isn’t a fighter, and goes into the finale clearly terrified as to whether Sypha and Trevor can even keep him safe, while Sypha and Trevor have to take it on faith that St Germain’s intentions are good. (If you take Alucard’s animation to indicate that he has no experience as a lover, then the parallels are even more stark.)

Meanwhile, Isaac – as the captain so insightfully points out – remains fixated on the offenses done him, easily dismissing the kindness of an unexpected gift from a stranger. Hector’s issue, on the other hand, is too much trust, given too easily, with no questions ever asked (as Lenore drives home, first through interrogation and second through manipulation). Isaac’s determination not to trust anyone makes his way more difficult, while Hector’s determination not to question his immediate trust in the latest authority figure is what eventually traps him. 

Even the four vampire sisters (an element I really loved, almost making up for the first two seasons’ near-dearth) pivot around issues of trust, but in their case, it’s whether they can trust that Carmilla’s grand vision is feasible. They don’t distrust Carmilla, or her ideas – they distrust that they can fulfill her visionary plan to its fullest extent. But they’re also intrigued by the idea, and clearly competent enough to make it happen – and despite a few times where it seems there might be fractures (more of Lenore’s diplomatic manipulation, in hindsight), the four really do trust each other pretty firmly.

There’s a secondary theme threaded through the storylines, too, although we only hear it stated explicitly in the Isaac and Trevor/Sypha storylines. 

the captain: “If you don’t have your own story, you become part of someone else’s.”

The context here is whether one’s motivation comes from an external source, or is internal to the person. Isaac’s motivation (at least at the midpoint of this season) is clearly stated as revenge on Hector – that is, to rectify Hector’s wrongs that undid Dracula’s story. Alucard, too, is trapped in someone else’s story, as his motivation first is that he thinks helping two lost souls would please his mother, and later that training new demon hunters would please Trevor. 

Sypha’s motivation is simpler: action! adventure! excitement! And in not stopping to consider the source (or the results) of her motivation, she ends up being accessory to not one but three stories (with Trevor along for the ride). The Trevor/Sypha storyline could be seen, in this light, as one in which they’re tools in other peoples’ stories. They fail to warn/assert/react fast enough to prevent the mad priest’s actions, they learn of (and then tackle) the church problem due to the town mayor’s need, and they learn of (and then tackle) the thing in the basement due to St Germain’s need. 

In the end, St Germain (like Dracula) goes onto the next chapter of his story, with Sypha and Trevor left to handle the aftermath (like Isaac). They don’t even reclaim their story with the final discovery of the mayor’s depravity, as they end up (if understandably) destroying the evidence, as the mayor had requested. 

When Trevor echoes the captain’s words (which could be Ellis wanting to drive the point home, or could imply that at some point, Trevor also met the captain), Sypha deflects his point. She’s quite certain she’s been living her own story, and enjoying it immensely. In the aftermath, Trevor turns the point around, saying that for the past few months, they’ve been living Sypha’s life, all action and adventure. 

Trevor: “And now, we’re living my life.”

Trevor’s origins, after all, lie in the destruction of his family – but that destruction wasn’t at the hands of the demons they fought. Instead, it was at the hands of the church, its people, and the larger community. His storyline in S1-S2 was of someone who’d seen the worst of humanity, and ended up deciding to fight because he chose to, not because humanity deserves it.   

With the possible exception of St Germain (which is more of an open question than a certainty), they trusted and discovered their trust wasn’t misplaced, so much as… that taking everything at face value meant they remained blind to what lay beneath. Their story halts with Trevor reminded of why he originally kept people at a distance (through snark and alcohol), and Sypha now enlightened as to how sometimes humans are far worst monsters. 

That blindness is also present in Alucard’s story, when he takes the two young prisoners-turned-hunters at face value. He opens his house (well, most of it) to them, trains them, and tells them secrets of how to hunt his father’s race. It’s a radical shift from his original reaction to the Belmont hold, as a museum dedicated to the extermination of his race.

Which brings me to Ellis’ choice to have the finales as parallel battles, but he manages to have them reflect each other, as well. For Isaac, Sypha, and Trevor, it’s an external battle against an overwhelming foe. Sypha ends with literal blood on her hands, and other than St Germain’s departure, the rest of their victory is literally pyrric.  

For Hector and Alucard, their storylines peak (ahem) at what should be a moment of trust and connection, which is why I can see the choice to have those storylines turn sexual. (Honestly, I thought the two young hunters were just going to cook Alucard dinner in return, or something – I had zero expectations that any story would ever go there.) 

First, five separate battles would’ve been just a lot of chaos, compared to the contrast of apparent happy-endings (or happy-middles). Second, it drives home that Alucard has defenses all over the place, but none to seduction, while Hector simply clings to whomever is willing to call the shots, and only thinks to question later. They’re in the stage of their story that the captain raises to Isaac: after you’ve achieved this goal, what next? What is left for you? 

Which is why I think their parallel endpoints – Isaac’s final battle, Alucard and the hunters, Hector and Lenore – all come to a head at being bound in some way. They’re still playing out someone else’s story, so they run headfirst into situations where that tunnel-vision can be used against them. Isaac may be the least trusting of the lot, but even he shows a remarkable tendency to take things at face value: to trust the gift from the seller, to listen to the captain, to sit and converse with the old witch who tells him about the possessed city. With as little foreknowledge as Alucard or Hector, Isaac rushes in, eyes too fixed on achieving someone else’s goal to see the trap ahead. 

None of the bindings are shown as simple, easy to break, or without lasting effect. At the same time, it’s striking that Isaac and Alucard do manage to force their way free, while Hector can only flail about in pain. To me – given the theme of trust – that implies that somehow, both Alucard and Isaac do have the potential for a balanced trust. That is (unlike Hector) knowing when to take it away, even if both struggle with learning to give it.

Oddly, that’s why I think the season managed to position things beautifully for a next season, because we’ve come full circle. 

It’s a curious thing about Alucard: when we first meet him in S1, he’s recovering from his father’s betrayal (of attacking humans); in S3, he’s recovering from the grief of loss (his parents, his only two friends) – and S4 ends with him shivering in pain/hurt over the betrayal of two people. Gotta wonder how much more Ellis will see fit to break this character down.

In S2, Hector was a valued lieutenant, if terribly blind to the implications of what Dracula wanted. Now those illusions are gone; he’s enslaved, wanted only for his skills (in the forge and in bed) – and the deal is quite explicit. Lenore has the grace to say that Hector should be getting something out of the deal, but that doesn’t change that Hector can’t pretend there’s no deal being made. 

Isaac begins cast out, grieving Dracula (not entirely as a mission, but more as a friend, I think) – and ends with the resources and experiences to go in a new direction. He doesn’t have to take out Hector, who could be seen as small fry, anyway. (Especially given Hector’s now just a shell of a controlled man.) If Isaac chooses to go after Carmilla in S4, that’ll be the first step towards making his story his own. Note also that although Isaac may seem alone, he’s accompanied by a host of creatures. He has allies.

It’s the trust in those allies that seems to determine who ends well, and who does not. Although Trevor and Sypha (especially Sypha) were dealt an emotional blow by the post-battle revelations, they always had each others’ backs – and they leave the town behind, relatively unscathed. Isaac ends victorious, with a few of his army intact and the material to make more. 

But the storyline that ends in the ascendant position is Carmilla’s. With her visionary ideas and her sisters’ abilities to make those visions real, Carmilla is positioned to go exactly where she wants. Which is why it’s also striking that (other than Lenore’s sex scene), neither Carmilla nor her sisters really have a ‘final’ battle. They’re effectively a season ahead of everyone else – the trust between the four is already established, solid, and reciprocated equally. 

So you could say that being foolhardy about trust will land you in hot water – which pretty much covers all the central protagonists. But the story’s not that bleak, despite its final scenes, because it’s also saying that sometimes, to get where you want to be, you do have to take that leap – as illustrated by Isaac and St Germain. Or even that you trust, and if betrayed, you deal with the consequences, learn the lesson, and move on, like Trevor and Sypha. 

Or you learn a different lesson, one preached by dear old dad: put the bodies of your conquests out front on stakes, and lock the doors, and trust no one. Which is a legitimate reaction to betrayal, don’t get me wrong, but one that S3 seems to be firmly saying will only end badly.  

[discoscoob]

Bless me, Master, for I have sinned

Pairing: Dhawan!Master/You

Summary: A total rip off of the kneeling scene from Fleabag, all credit for this goes to Phoebe Waller-Bridge and this post

Word count: 4,2k

Warning: I’m still fairly new to writing smut, basically this is only my second time and the first I’m actually posting so apologies in advance, please be kind 🙏🏻

 The Master had shocked you many times but you had to admit that seeing him stood at an altar, with a bible held in his hands and a dog collar around his neck as he officiated the wedding ceremony of your cousin and her fiancé, was up there at the top of the list of his biggest shocks. 

You hadn’t seen him in months, you had been travelling with him behind the Doctors back after the events with the Kasaavin, since the both of you had grown attached while he was pretending to be O. It all came to a halt when he one day gave you an ultimatum, which was for you to decide whether you wanted to travel with him or the Doctor, telling you that whichever one you chose meant you could no longer see the other. It was one of those head or heart decisions, in the end you had went with your head and every day since you had wandered how differently you would have ended up had you gone with your heart.

You slouched further into the uncomfortable wooden church bench, luckily you weren’t sat too close to the front, you were grateful for the ridiculously large hat you had chosen to wear, by simply tipping your head forward it would cast a shadow over your face and make you less recognisable. 

You spent the remainder of the ceremony bouncing your knee and chewing your lip while glancing at the exit, knowing if you left early you would only draw attention to yourself so you waited until it was over and everyone had left their seats to dodge through the crowd and straight for the double doors, what you didn’t expect was for the Master to be stood at the entrance of the church, nodding and smiling as everyone left, even shaking some people’s hands if they offered. 

You dipped your head once again, this time hiding your face completely beneath your hat as you quickly jogged past him, hoping the old lady who had decided to start telling him about how she also got married in this church was enough to keep him distracted. 

Once you made it to your car you checked all your mirrors and let out a sigh of relief when you saw he wasn’t following you, after removing your hat and placing it on your passenger seat you started your car and began your journey home.

However after you got home you still couldn’t stop thinking about him, he was in your town pretending to be a priest, you wondered how long he had been here and why he was here, was he looking for you? That didn’t make sense, he knew where you lived, if he wanted you he could just show up on your doorstep anytime he liked. 

It was after you had got into bed for the night that you realised you wouldn’t be able to sleep with all these unanswered questions in your head, begrudgingly you threw your covers off you and began to get dressed, you were going to pay him a visit.

 •

 When you entered the dimly lit church you couldn’t help the shiver that shot down your spine, you had never been in a church at night before and you hated how hauntingly airy it felt, so you wrapped your arms around yourself as you warily made your way down the isle. 

The sound of pop music echoed through the empty hall and you followed the noise until you arrived at an archway at the side of the alter, from there the warm glow of a light partially leaked into the shadows and lured you towards it. 

When you entered the room, the sound of banging caught your attention and you turned your head in the direction of it to find the Master jumping with his arms stretched out above him, trying to reach for something in one of the higher shelves of a cabinet. He was too distracted by this task to notice your presence so you looked behind you for the source of the music and found the stereo, you reached out and hit the switch to turn it off

“Oh fuck!” The Master immediately startled when he saw you stood there and he scrambled backwards with his arms in front of him as if you were a threat, still letting out a string of curse words.

“Woah,” you breathed out through a small laugh, somewhat amused by his reaction.

“Oh my god I thought you were just in my head then!” He thought out loud, as he blinked rapidly, his arms still held out in front of him as he shifted his weight on his legs, he brought his hands up to his eyes as if he was going to rub them just to be sure they weren’t deceiving him but he stopped himself to point at you instead, “I mean, you were in my head then... but now you’re there.” He waved his hands around as he spoke, it was pretty obvious from the way he was acting that he had had a little bit to drink... or a lot.

You laughed a bit, unused to seeing him behave this way but you gave him a dubious look as you asked, “are you okay, Master?”

“Fuck you calling me Master like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.” He smiled boldly at you with both hands placed on his hips, he was still dressed up as a priest though his collar hung open now to reveal the top of his chest, the hair there just peaking out from beneath the fabric. 

You stood wordlessly, unsure of how to even respond to what he just called you out on, I mean it wasn’t exactly false but you weren’t going to admit it out loud, your silence was enough and it seemed he realised that as he let out a single hum of a laugh.

��Do you wanna drink?” He offered you.

“Yeah,” you found yourself answering before you could even think about it, you knew that probably wasn’t the wisest decision but it was too late now he had already placed the empty glass on the table.

“Don’t move.” He ordered as he turned around the fetch the bottle, you couldn’t help the way that little instruction made your stomach do a slight flutter.

That’s when he went back to what you had caught him doing when you walked into the room, jumping at the cabinet with his arms stretched above his head, “I don’t seem to have the fucking reach anymore.” He complained as he continued to jump and you watched him curiously. 

“God help me.” He spoke under his breath and with one more jump the bottle was flying out of the cabinet, “woah” he gasped as he quickly caught it before it smashed to the floor.

He gave you a look before he moved back over to the table, you followed him as he poured you both a glass before he picked them both up by their rim, offering you yours.

“Here’s to chaos,” he raised his glass towards you, “and those who get in the way of it.” 

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that but you raised your glass to his anyway and they met in the middle with a little ping before you each took a gulp... or two... or three, if you’re the Master. 

“I’m sorry about–“ You began to apologise for choosing the Doctor over him, you weren’t sure why but you felt as though you had to as you looked upon the broken state he seemed to be in.

“Forget about it.” He dismissed before he quickly changed the subject “look at this!” He smiled, placing his glass on the table to turn around to open the closet behind him, he pulled out a priest’s robe and of course it was purple, you smiled nodding, you should have expected it, “look at it!” He enthused, “I knew I wanted a bold... this colour.” He gestured towards the garment. “So beautiful, isn’t it?” He looked at you as if this was completely normal, as if he wasn’t the Master, the renegade Time Lord who destroyed his own planet, now stood here with you in a church, pretending to be a priest as he fawned over one of his robes, refusing to acknowledge the obscurity of it all.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked him the question you came here to get the answer to, he paused, standing across from the table with his hands clasped in front of him and his head hung so he didn’t have to look at you, he stepped forward and reached for his glass, it seemed he was suddenly very interested in it’s contents as he stared into it while he shifted his weight back and forth until he got the courage to look up at you finally.

“Come with me.” He nodded his head towards the door as he began to walk over to it, you weren’t sure if this was leading to him answering your question or if he was trying to change the subject but you guessed the only way you would find out would be if you followed him, so that’s what you did. 

 •

 You were stood in front of the confession box, face to face, you still couldn’t tell where this was leading but by now you were sure that it was a way to distract you just enough so he wouldn’t have to give you any of the answers you were looking for since he seemed to expect you to be the one to tell him your secrets, rather than the other way around.

“You go in there, I go in there.” He explained to you, pointing to each cubicle of the box, the irony of an alien who wasn’t from your planet explaining one of earths customs as if he had better knowledge of it than you did, sometimes you forgot how much time he had spent on earth, technically he had lived on this planet longer than you had, maybe he did have more knowledge after all. You shook your head, that was too much to think about right now especially when you realised he was really serious about getting you to do a confession with him.

“You’re going to make me tell you all my secrets so you can ultimately trap and control me.” You joked.

“Yeah,” he giggled, before his face shifted to a more serious expression. “No, you tell me what’s weighing on your heart and I listen without judgement and in complete confidence.” 

“Wow how much time have you spent here, did you read that from a script?” You laughed through a gasp, shocked by how precise he was getting this priest act.

“Shut up,” he light-heartedly grumbled at your teasing, “come on.” He encouraged you.

“I’m not a catholic.” You protested.

“Neither am I.” He shrugged and had you been religious you would have stepped away from him in fear he would spontaneously burst into flames, since you were sure that standing in a church and being a fraudulent priest while admitting you weren’t a catholic was asking for trouble. 

“Come on.” He urged you some more, keeping his voice soft. “Just do it.”

“Alright.” You softly agreed and then you both made your way in to the separate cubicles. 

“Okay now you say ‘bless me Master for I have sinned-“

“I’m not going to say that.”

He ignored your interruption and continued with his instructions. “‘it’s been insert days, years months since my last confession’ then I say ‘that’s okay blah blah blah’ until you tell me what’s on your mind... tell me your sins!” He eagerly encouraged you and you were laughing.

“Why would I tell you my sins?” You spoke through a broad smile.

“Because... I want to know.” He told you in a hushed tone, as if it were a secret.

So you decided you would, with a quick gulp of your drink and a deep breath, you would play his game.

“I’ve stolen things... but you would know about that since you were usually the one encouraging me to do it. I’ve had sex outside marriage, something else you already know about.” You laughed to yourself, “a lot of masturbation, a bit of violence and of course the endless fucking blasphemy.”

“And?” He prompted you to share more, it wasn’t hard to see you were holding back.

“And...” You paused, questioning whether or not you really wanted to tell him.

“Go on.” He pushed you.

You took another big gulp of your drink, to try and calm your nerves.

“And... m’frightened.” 

“Of what?”

“That I got it all wrong...” He remained silent as he patiently waited for you to elaborate, “I thought choosing the Doctor was the right thing to do but if it was why do I still think about you every single day and what my life would have been like if I chose you instead?” 

“Do you still travel with the Doctor?” He had asked and you automatically shook your head before he remembered he couldn’t see you.

“No,” you answered quietly.

“Do you miss it?” 

“I miss you.” You confessed, “I think you should have made the decision for me, I would’ve done anything you told me, I trust you would’ve got it right and I wouldn’t be spending every single day thinking about what could’ve been because I would‘ve actually been doing it. So just tell me what to do,” you pleaded, your voice strained from your overwhelming emotions. “Just fucking tell me what to do, Master!” 

Silence. You felt your heart begin to pick up as you waited for him to say something, you dropped your head in dejection.

“Kneel.” Finally came his instruction.

Everything went still for a moment and you questioned whether this was reality or if you had just began daydreaming. Your eyes travelled up to the grid of the confession box.

“What?” You wanted the confirmation that you heard him correctly, that this was real.

“Kneel.” He said softer this time, “just kneel.”

You took a deep breath while you blinked down at your lap, your lips were slightly parted as you lifted your drink to slowly place it on the ledge in the confession box and with that you carefully lowered yourself to your knees in the cramped space, the wood creaked as you moved. Once you were on your knees you arched your neck back and chewed your lip while you waited for what was next. 

You really hope he wasn’t going to get you to pray this was not what you imagined–

The curtain to the cubicle was abruptly pushed to the side to reveal the Master standing before you in all his glory, your breath hitched in your throat while your lip slipped from between your teeth, your mouth rested slightly parted. You stared up at him with doe eyes which conveyed all your desire while he glared down at you with a hard stoic expression.

Your eyes followed him as he gently lowered himself to his knees, one leg at a time and once he was done he was still looking down at you since you knelt with your bottom rested against the back of your ankles while he kept his thighs up right.

He brought his hands up to your face, just letting them hover before he ever so lightly traced the back of his fingers down your jaw until his thumb slightly brushed your chin.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes kept flicking down to his lips and you hoped that they displayed all your need for him and he had enough mercy to grant you your desire. 

Much to your delight he leant his head towards yours and you craned your neck towards him, your lips met in a tender kiss, his fingertips brushed up your throat and the fine hair at the back of your neck stood to attention.

When you pulled away from the simple kiss, you briefly glanced at each other, just to see the affect you had on one another but your glazed eyes barely managed to meet before each of you were focusing your concentration onto the others lips. You fell into another kiss however you decided you needed more than just soft and tender so you pushed into it further, raising your thighs and he chased your lips with his own as you continued to rise until you were stood on both feet, with him not far behind, your mutual desperation increased at a rapid rate. 

You began blindly stumbling, with your hands trying to grab each other anywhere and everywhere all at once, both of you refusing to break the kiss to move in a more effective and safer fashion, until you were pushing him into the door of the confession box. 

You brought your trembling fingers up to where the button should be for his trousers but you had trouble finding it until you recalled he was wearing a robe so you hastily grasped the fabric in your palms trying to get it all out of the way from where you wanted to be which only caused you to grow frustrated.

“Skirt and trousers?” You complained, although you had to admit it made sense considering priests had to be celibate it’s not like they had any need for clothes that allowed for easy access.

He helped you along as he bunched up the fabric in his arms and you were finally able to unclasp the button of his trousers, you felt the fabric which the Master had been holding bunch up against your wrist as he let it drop in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist, deciding he needed to pull you closer, so with your chests flush you blindly walked him until the back of his knees hit a bench and he collapsed onto it with his legs spread wide open, allowing you enough space to drop to your knees between them. You steadied yourself by clutching each of his thighs as you lowered yourself to the ground, never breaking eye contact.

His eyes still shone despite the lack of light in the empty church hall and his jaw hung slack, you caught the way his chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths as he closely watched your every move while he urgently gathered the excess fabric of his robe to get it out of your way.

“I should have never let you go.” The Master panted, “I should’ve kept you all to myself the moment you started travelling with me, I was a fool to share something as precious as you with anyone else, let alone the Doctor.” 

While he was talking you had managed to get his zip down and began palming him over his underwear, you could already feel his length straining against the material from how desperate he was for you.

“You don’t have to share me anymore.” You promised him, while you slowly pulled his trousers and boxers down together until his member was freed from its confinement, it sprung up against his stomach and the Master hissed from the feeling of it suddenly coming into contact with the cold air, churches weren’t exactly renowned for being the warmest of places.

He didn’t have to suffer for long as you were soon wrapping your warm palm around the base to drag it up to his tip, letting your hand  slightly twist around the head before dragging it back to the base to repeat the routine.

His breathing grew even heavier and you didn’t miss the way the muscles of his stomach twitched as you paid close attention to the head. 

With one fist buried into the crumbled up fabric of his robe, keeping him grounded, he moved his other hand to comb his fingers through your hair to secure a fist full of it at the crown of your head.

“That’s enough teasing, pet.” He huffed, urging your head closer to his length and who were you to disobey your Master?

You lowered your head, never breaking eye contact as he watched you with his lids lazily dropped. You brought your tongue out to give the head a quick lick before wrapping your lips around it and hollowing your cheeks as you dragged your head back up until it released with a pop, after that you flattened your tongue against his base and dragged it all the way to his tip which you swirled your tongue around before you closed your lips around it once again, this time moving your head down his shaft and the Master encouraged you further with the fist full of hair he still had a secure grip on, until the blunt head collided with the back of your throat and you let out a splutter, he loosened his grip allowing you to freely raise your own head but you just brought your mouth to his tip before you where sinking back down again as far as you could go.

“So good for your Master,” he breathlessly praised you, which only spurred you on further as his hips began to involuntary thrust up into your mouth, chasing his impending high. 

He broke your eye contact when he threw his head back against the back of the church bench, moaning your name in pleasure and you saw his Adam’s apple bop up and down, swallowing a gulp from the way his mouth watered.

You began to quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks harder and rubbing the part you couldn’t reach with your hand to bring him towards his orgasm. 

By now your eyes had started watering from the attack on your gag reflex but you didn’t mind since your eyes weren’t the only things that became more damp with each thrust that hit the back of your throat, you clenched your thighs in an attempt to offer yourself some relief but it didn’t go far. 

“M’gonna come,” he warned you through clenched teeth, it was the only noticed you got before his hips bucked towards you a few times until finally his release spilled onto your tongue as your name spilled out of his mouth, he had tightened his grip on your hair making your scalp burn from the harsh hold but it only sent a wave of pleasure through the pit of your stomach. 

Once his body relaxed so did his hold and he gently ran his palm over your scalp to sooth you as he caught his breath, his head still rested back against the back of the bench, you tucked his now half hard member back into his underwear before you nuzzled your face into his palm which he had brought to your cheek after he had stroked it through your hair. 

You had your eyes closed you hadn’t noticed he was reaching forward for you until you felt his hands gripping you under your arm pits, urging you to your feet, you did as he wanted and his hands slid from under your arms and down your rib cage until they gripped your waist and he pulled you down to straddle his lap.

He looked up at you, his eyes bounced back and forth between yours before he extended his neck towards you to capture your lips with his own, his hand moved up to the back of your neck to keep you in place, while his tongue brushed across your bottom lip. 

Your own hands were rested on his shoulders to keep yourself steady, you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind into his as you searched for anyway to relieve the tension that had built from providing him with pleasure.

After he felt your hips rhythmically stroking against his he moved his hands to your love handles to still your movements with a bruising grip.

You whined in protest but he gently shushed you, dragging a finger over your lips.

“Does my human need her Master?” He taunted, and you desperately nodded as you looked into his sparkling eyes, looking more himself than he had the entire night, a broad smile creeped on his face when he saw the yearning in yours. 

“Use your words, love.” He urged.

“I need you, Master.” You mumbled, vocalising your desires was something you still struggled with but when you travelled with him he had always encouraged you to be vocal, not only did it make it easier for him to know exactly what you needed he revelled in watching you beg him.

He gently patted your thigh, prompting you to lift off his lap with a quick peck to your lips.

“Come on, love, let’s go to my tardis, where I can take proper care of you.” He promised, and you weren’t going to turn him down, not ever again, you still hadn’t got the answers you had come here for but that could wait, for now you had better things to do.

[asotin]

what're your thoughts on castlevania (the netflix show, not the game, ive never played the game) what do you like, what don't you like? make it as long as you want. i don't care if i have to scroll for 5 minutes. go feral (personally trevor is extremely hot and i would like to date sypha. i'm not really into alucard's whole sickly victorian child aesthetic, yknow?)

oh god this is way too long, but you did say to make it as long as i want, and i have a lot of thoughts that i need to inflict on the world

i played two castlevania games, both from the nintendo gameboy era, so please don’t get mad at me, gamers

details below the cut, but since i’ll be talking about season three, i need to preface this with content warnings for mentions of: graphic violence, rape and sexual violence, racism, and the holocaust

before i get into it, i usually don’t go for alucard-type characters either, but knowing that he was redesigned to be bishounen sexy specifically because the boring, middle aged man look he originally had in the games wasn’t appealing makes me enjoy him. and he’s fun with trevor and sypha

do like:

the voice acting

it’s all good. i can’t think of any characters whose voices were awkward or fit poorly. they don't make sypha’s va use the standard flat affect or false high voice women tend to be assigned, trevor sounds suitably worn out but not monotone, and alucard sounds exhausted but in a sexy way

and the spanish dub is killer, arguably superior

the animation & design

it isn’t full-on artsy, but it’s definitely got a distinctive style that’s easy to look at. the color use and effects are gorgeous. it’s a story set in the medieval era, and the mixture of desaturated and oversaturated elements works so well with that

dracula’s castle and the belmont bunker aren't revolutionary in design, but they didn't need to be. they're suitably creepy and empty, and i enjoyed them

the monsters were unique enough to have obvious different types, and the scene where a monster commits blasphemy in a church by accusing a priest of committing blasphemy was good writing

lisa

she shows up to a stranger’s spooky home and scolds him for being rude. she really looked an ancient vampire in the face, told him he had no manners, then had a kid with him. what a phenomenal woman. 11/10, no notes

“start with me, and i’ll start with you.” you know what? i’d fall in love, too

dracula

this ancient, unfriendly vampire let a human woman walk into his home and tell him he’s got no manners. and that made him fall in love with her. just like that. lisa walked in and handed him his ass, and dracula thought “oh i love her”. and when she was killed (more on this in the bad section), he raised literal hell to destroy the world for doing it

speaking of lisa being killed, it fucks me up that it happened because she convinced him to leave the castle and experience the world. he left her alone to see what she loved so much, only to come back and find that the people he’d come to like- the people lisa had loved so much it drove her to help in a way that got her killed- had burned her at the stake. i love a good tragedy, and that’s good tragedy

the way he weeps when he has to fight alucard?? during a showdown in their home?? the “i must already be dead” moment in alucard’s childhood bedroom??? when he speaks to lisa about killing their boy, her greatest gift to him??? poetic cinema.

the trio’s dynamic

three bisexuals with two total brain cells and only alucard bothers using them. incredible

i went so hard for this ot3. it's right there and so good

sypha

she initially seems to be assigned the role of the adult™️ ie she's the only woman and gets stuck being responsible, but surprise! she’s just as annoying and dumb as alucard and trevor. she dropped a castle she didn’t understand on the ground and didn’t think too hard about it. then she argued about breaking it. i love her

if we don’t get an ot3, then she needs to have a dumb gf

alucard

he's got a stupidly low neckline and lower pants. they really leaned into ayami kojima’s redesign, as they should have. his little curl annoys me, though. why the fuck does he have a random section of hair that’s like three inches long when the rest is shoulder length or longer? love that he really looks like lisa

if you say he's canonically bisexual and polyamorous, no he isn't. yes he is. no he isn't :)

trevor

disgusting. a nasty man whose appearance mirrors his state of mind. he's 50 mental illnesses in a dirty jacket and his coping mechanism is… alcohol? maybe? he’s a mess, and i dig it

him trying his trick of kneeing alucard in the balls during their fight? and finding out it doesn't work? (which…… why doesn't it……?) juvenile but suitable

hector

his love of animals makes him my favorite. normally, i won’t touch anything with this much animal death, but i’m willing to set that aside because hector loves them so much. he’s so sweet and kind, and he loves his monster pets

yes he sided with dracula and has some really fucked up ideas about what constitutes humane treatment of people, and yet i love him. 11/10, but i have a lot of notes

isaac

i support him, including his murdering and his decision to support dracula. dracula throwing him out of the castle to save him was so cruel in that it was an attempt at kindness from a man who hated the whole world, but it was against isaac’s wishes

his time with the captain was great

idk enough about islam to know if he's portrayed correctly and haven’t seen any complaints, but given the show’s track record……… i wouldn’t be surprised if it’s not great

the forging

very cool. fresh and interesting! hector creating pet friends is cute and heartbreaking. love isaac for his dedication to reducing, reusing, and recycling

season 2’s big battle with all those vampires

the new version of “bloody tears” is phenomenal

this goes back to the animation, but listen……. it's so good. i loved the smoke vampire, and alucard’s fluid wolf transformations. his flying sword looked really good, and incorporating them together? super good to watch. and trevor’s whip?

the type and level of violence are suitable for what it is. it would be weird for a gritty show like this to be bloodless, but i don't think it would work if it were bloody to the extent of a slasher. it's also more clean violence, if that makes sense. you don’t linger just to look at gore; you see it because stabbing someone spills blood. the games weren't about extended, gritty scenes of realistic murder, so the show sticking with quick, slice and dice type fights fit with what i remembered of them

please watch this fight if you don’t remember it or haven’t seen it (part 1, part 2)

trevor’s whips

trevor’s weapons don’t follow the physics of normal whips, and they shouldn't. they’re heavily stylized and clearly a fantasy weapon, but they still have rules that they (mostly) have to obey. his morning star-whip hybrid in particular is so good 

it’s easy to follow, too. a lot of times, speedy weapons disappear, which is an understandable effect but one i find boring because there’s nothing for me to do. i’m just sitting on my ass with nothing to do

trevor’s whips don’t disappear. they’re fast, but you can always see them. and they have weight! you can see them slow down and gain speed. i don’t need physics to be real; i want movement to be pleasing, and that’s exactly what i get with the whips

don’t like:

fridging lisa

she could have been kidnapped (possibly make dracula think she was dead bc people want to lure out her scary demon husband, idk), then s2 could have ended with her and dracula reuniting as he died. she and alucard go on a trip together to attempt to make amends for the pain dracula wrought in lisa’s name. orrrr she dies a tragic death with him and we’re left to hope that they find each other in the afterlife. do vampires get to go to the afterlife? can alucard reintegrate? can he be happy with his new friends? or will he go back to his crypt and sleep again? will he ever be rediscovered? if so, what will he do? deep questions. i would prefer to cogitate on these instead of experiencing the shitshow that is s3

season 3

they should have ended it with dracula’s death. the quality of storytelling goes down immediately. just plummets. i’m sure there were problems in the first two seasons, but this one is so bad, i genuinely can’t remember

but i may as well get specific, so here we go:

abandoning alucard

trevor and sypha leave their friend alone in his childhood home where he just killed his father. where they helped him kill his father who, as i’ve said too many times, raised literal hell to get revenge for people burning alucard’s mother to death

yt they don’t talk about alucard. they don’t make any plans to touch base ever again. trevor’s entire family got killed. sypha’s culture, from which she’s now estranged, is family-centric. if ever two people should give a shit about alucard and know why alucard shouldn’t be left on his own, it's them

so what the hell is going on?

trevor and sypha’s relationship

look. it could be good. it would be better with alucard but they could be together and it could work fine

but this……….

trevor hates what they're doing. he hates traveling around and fighting. he's clearly tired and deeply depressed

sypha not only doesn't care enough to address it (did they forget the first two seasons?? sypha is annoying partly because she doesn't stop poking people) she might not even notice? yes, she's having fun, but trevor is basically dead on his feet in front of her

racism

hector, sumi, and taka all got done dirty 

sumi and taka

i hate the way they died. i hate that i’m certain that the plot won’t bring japan back into the narrative (or if it does, i don’t trust it not to be shitty). i hate the fact that by killing them off, i’m not going to get any more of them. they were interesting!!

speaking of the japanese vampire: the biphobia, arguably, given what happens with alucard

the addition of sexual violence

i don’t need or want lenore. if all she’d done was manipulate hector, i could have lived with that. she’s a villain, so she does bad things. that’s the point. but what she did was a massive escalation. we hadn’t had any sexual violence, and then the last few episodes gave us 

tumblr feminists who love her for how she treated hector need to be quarantined until their brain worms have been cured

everything that happens to hector

what was this shit? why did i open my netflix app and tap castlevania and find them making this man walk around naked in the cold to torture him? and starving him? he got manipulated, degraded, chained up, collared like an animal, and raped. and why? to show us how bad lenore is? that the other vampires are bad because they let her do it? i didn’t sign up for this

the holocaust reference

the imagery at the end of s3 when it’s revealed that the judge has been killing people he’s decided are undeserving to live and collecting their shoes in that barn was chillingly close to images of shoes taken from victims of the holocaust. there's no reason to invoke the holocaust here. it’s unnecessary and in bad taste

[pathogenic]

Chapter 1: The Necromancer

I am just going ham tonight, so have the first chapter.

Nothing much in terms of warnings outside of violence and blood.

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Necromancer

Chapter 2: The Prophet

Chapter 3: The Hag

Chapter 4: The Brigand Vvulf

Chapter 5: The Brigand’s Cannon

Chapter 6: The Drowned Crew

Chapter 7: The Siren

Chapter 8: The Swine God

Chapter 9: The Formless Flesh

Chapter 10: The Ancestor

Epilogue

To start our journey, I thought it would be best to start with the location not far from the road we crashed on. Our townsfolk rely upon the road for trade and should there be dangerous monsters crashing carts, I fear the already delicate shops could be forced to close for good. If that were to happen, I fear I would not have any idea how we would secure our food and our weapons to continue our quest.

I chose Reynauld, Dismas, and two new faces to journey with me to the place my carriage had crashed. One was an ex-nun of sorts. She said her name was Julia and that she was currently exploring the world to better understand herself and her faith. The people of this land believe in something that they call The Light. Though I myself am not a religious woman, I can understand the importance of faith. I did muse that perhaps our dark Hamlet could use some light since the oppressive rain clouds allow so little through. Julia, unfortunately, did not appreciate my joke much.

Despite our differences in humor, Julia does bring something important to the Hamlet. While we have a church, I’m afraid the state of it is quite sad. The townsfolk have lost much of their faith, which resulted in few of them attending services. The one priest who does work there finds it hard to call in for the repairs due to the lack of interest and the lack of resources. Since Julia has arrived, more people have started to attend, if only to speak with her and find comfort in the idea that even in our little Hamlet, the Light can reach them and they can see a possible future once again.

The other is a medical student who comes from a rather big-name medical school. Initially I was about to turn her away, fearing that she was one of the glory-seeker, but she refused to leave the Hamlet. There was very little I could do about this since we do not have anything akin to a guard in our town, but thankfully she proved to be of great help. Her name is Paracelsus and her theories on disease helped keep an outbreak from happening within the village. At this point I felt I had no choice but to allow her to come after all. We do not know what waits for us just outside of the Hamlet, her skills could come in handy and keep us from meeting a truly awful fate.

Our group made back into the forest that circled the Hamlet and retraced our steps. It wasn’t long until we found the bones of the skeletons we defeated and walked it to the cart. From there, I must admit we were a bit at a loss. While I do have a keen eye in a laboratory, I am afraid the same cannot be said for the wild. We were fortune that Dismas was and was able to find footsteps for us to follow. However, it is exceptionally difficult to tell the difference between what footsteps were from the inhabitants of the Hamlet and what were of the skeletons, so there were many false leads before we finally found ourselves at the entrance of a new building.

The door was barely raised from the ground and opened to a set of stairs. We were fortunate to have the mind to bring torches since as we descended those stairs, we found ourselves surrounded by complete and total darkness. What hid behind that unassuming door was a wide, sprawling dungeon that seemed to go back towards the Hamlet. There was no mention of any structure like this in the records I could find of the Hamlet, so my ancestor had to have built it in secret and hid it away from the road. I couldn’t help but wonder why he would need a dungeon like this.

Initially, we thought it to be empty, but as we traveled deeper into the winding halls of the dungeon, we were met with more of those skeletons. The acted without mercy as they attacked. It seemed their one and only goal in their afterlife was to attack anything that they encountered. I would have said anything that was alive, but it turns out we were not the only living things in that dungeon. There were also human beings in strange, brutal clothes with spikes and blades designed to inflict wounds on anyone they met. Any attempts to speak with them and to learn why they were living in an old, dark dungeon were met with violence, so their purpose is still a mystery to me.

As we journeyed further into the dungeon, we started to find old books and even some places where we assumed guards would have rested back when the dungeons were operational. The books were apparently journals that my ancestor had kept. Many of them were far too damaged with mildew and age to be legible, but what we did find was concerning. Evidently the dungeon was used so he could explore the forbidden art of Necromancy. It details the accounts he had with a scholar he had met overseas. Apparently, he had brought this man back to the Hamlet to study with him withing the dungeon. My ancestor had a knack for the arcane, so it did not take him very long to master the lessons the man had taught him and before the year was over, he found that there was little the man could teach him. Once my ancestor came to this conclusion, he committed an awful, grisly act and killed the man as he slept and decided to bring him back, and it worked. The man was of his own mind, still had his own abilities, and was capable of raising the dead on his own. My ancestor thought of this as an amazing achievement, worthy of pride. I do not think I have to detail why I felt disgusted by what I read.

It was at this point it was when Julia started to point out that many of the skeletons were dressed as either guardsmen or commoners and we were faced with the possibility that these were likely townsfolk that were killed and then experimented upon. At least, we hope that was the order as we have nothing to confirm or deny these suspicions.

Still, despite our fears, we still had business we needed to finish before we could return to the Hamlet. We were aware that the Dungeon was home to an undead Necromancer, and it was likely that was the source for the skeletons. If we killed him for good, then it was one less problem, so deeper we traveled until we couldn’t take one more step.

Unfortunately, sleeping in a dungeon is not a comfortable experience. We made ourselves a campfire to keep our area well lit so we could see if anyone was attempting to ambush us and then we set up a rotation for a watch so everyone could at least get some rest before we continued our journey. I stayed up the first rotation with Dismas and discovered that he was an incredibly lucky man. I’m afraid I was almost fifty gold lighter that night. Beyond my loss, our rotation went by without a problem and after a few hours, we traded off with Reynauld.

To this day, I am certain it was a mistake to leave him to watch the camp alone. Unfortunately, the Crusader was not as awake as we would have hoped and within the hour, he was asleep again. We were all awoken by the sounds of weapons clattering on armor. At some point those cultists had closed in on our camp with some of the undead soldiers. They snuffed out our fire and then attacked. I fumbled to find a torch and the matches, but eventually I did manage a spark and the kerosene wrapped cloth ignited and showed the gruesome fight. 

Reynauld was standing tall, longsword in hand as he flailed about wildly as he had no clue where the attacks were coming from. Once it registered that he could see again, he directed his attacks and was quick to aid Dismas, who was currently caught between two tall cultists with cruel arm-blades. I fear what would have happened were I few seconds slower. Julia turned out to be more of a menace that I had anticipated with her mace and had successfully bashed in a few skulls even without the light. She fought valiantly with her mace in one hand, her bible in the other. Paracelsus, however, seemed to have gotten the worst of the attacks. Even through her dark clothes, I could see the red that was seeping through where she was undoubtedly stabbed by a blade. She attempted to stand with her dagger in hand, but the pain proved to be too much and she was back on her knees.

I did the only thing I could in this situation and ran over, taking her dagger and attempted to defend her until the others could come over and provide aid. I admit that at the time I did not have any clue on how to use a weapon properly, so my “attacks” were nothing more than wild swings in the direction of the enemy, keeping them at bay. Thankfully, I did not have the keep up this shoddy tactic for long as Dismas was quick to provide cover fire. Each shot echoed harshly within the walls of the dungeon, but for once I welcomed each bang for they hit true and fell our attackers within moments.

Once our assailants were dealt with, Julia quickly knelt by Paracelsus’ side and performed a curious act. With her book open, she read versus about the light. She laid her hand over Paracelsus’ wound and as she finished, the wound stopped bleeding. It was still severe, but we did not have to worry that our doctor would bleed out on us. However, this left us with a new, and difficult question. We could continue and deal with the Necromancer, or we could return to the Hamlet and allow Paracelsus to heal. The doctor tried to insist that she was fine to continue, but with so few numbers, I was not eager to lose who we did have, so I made the call to go back the way we came and ensure that we would not lose anyone today. 

Thankfully getting out was far easier than getting to where we were. We simply had to follow the trail of dead back to the door and then follow the road back to the Hamlet. There we got Paracelsus to the Sanitarium as that is the closest thing we have to a hospital currently. There, she was treated and was allowed to rest.

As our good doctor recovered, I was back onto the task of finding more adventurers. I was not keen on the idea of sending Paracelsus back in the moment she recovered, but I also did not want to wait to see if the dead would push back out from that dungeon. No, we needed to find and kill the undead Necromancer if we were to find any peace for the Hamlet. This search resulted in a meeting with a rather curious man.

He claimed to be a noble from a distant kingdom who left due to his illness. He heard of the Hamlet and started his journey our way to attempt to aid the people here before he finally succumbed to his sickness. I did offer him the best treatment we could give him for his leprosy, but he politely turned it down, insisting that we save those resources for the other adventurers. He claimed his case was so advanced that it would do so little. His disease already ate away at his nerves, so there was no pain. From what bits of skin I could see despite his mask and his wraps, I did not doubt his words and so I allowed him in. He told me that his name was Baldwin and I could not help but feel like I had heard of his name before. He mentioned that he was a noble, so it was likely that he came from some family fascinated with science that funded my lab at some point, so I let it pass and took him to his garrison.

Naturally, we have him in his own building to ensure that his illness does not spread. He claimed to prefer the solitude anyways, though I am not sure how honest that was. As far as I was concerned, he was simply putting on a brave face for those around him, but no matter what, it was simply the way things had to be to ensure the safety of the Hamlet.

Regardless, I allowed Baldwin a day to adjust to life in the Hamlet before we set back out to the dungeons, eager to deal with the undead Necromancer beneath. As we ventured, I informed our new companion of the situation. He was silent the whole time I spoke, but I could have sworn I saw his lip raise in the disgust when I looked back at him to make sure he was even listening. If he was a nobleman, then I had figured he owned land and looked over others. His disgust was understandable. Once I finished, he made a comment about how our attack would be a purifying flame to this ravaged land.

We followed our trail back to where we last stopped and pressed further on, going deeper and deeper until eventually we found ourselves at grand wooden doors. We were careful to be as guarded as possible as we pushed open those doors, hoping that the Necromancer wouldn’t attack while we struggled with the heavy doors. However, we hoped for too much. Naturally we were met with more undead fiends as we pushed our way in. At the back of the room stood a man in flowing red robes. His face was obscured by a strange mask that I could not see into, but we could see his gnarled, decaying hands as he pointed to us. He said nothing, but we could hear his haggard breaths and hisses as his raised minions fell upon us.

Thankfully between the might of Reynauld and Baldwin, the skeletal figures did not stand much of a chance. Dismas stayed with me near the door and fired shot after shot at the figure. Initially it would take the bullet without any visible distress, but as the battle waned on, the shots earned snarls and distressed hisses from the Necromancer.

Julia worked hard to keep Reynaud and Baldwin on their feet as they continued to carve their path towards the Necromancer. Eventually, the Necromancer did run out of subjects to send out and was forced to face the two warriors head on. He slung spells their direction and singed their armor, undoubtedly causing burns inside the metal armor, but in the end, his frail form was no match for their blades and Dismas’ bullets. As he collapsed into a heap upon the ground, we began to build a small pyre from the wood within the room, fearing that he would simply come back to life somehow if we left the body. His half-decayed form burned easily, though I do not think I would forget the smell anytime soon.

With our task completed, we set back to the Hamlet to nurse wounds and to plot our next course of action. During this time, I fully settled into my ancestor’s home. It is a lavish building and I admit to feeling a touch guilty living within such a luxurious home. Though it is covered completely in dust and grime, the house is simply astounding. I took a day to clean it so my allergies would stop bothering me. Dismas and Julia pitched in upon seeing my sorry state, my eyes and my nose could hardly stop running until the place was clear of dust.

Once the house was livable again, I set into the study and attempted to find more writings that my ancestor had produced. It turned out there was no shortage of them and they were in far better condition than those found in the dungeon, though I am not sure if it is because they were newer or if they were simply better protected inside this home. Still, I combed through his texts. Most were mundane accounts of business and trade and how the village was thriving. If there were more texts about his adventures into the arcane, they simply did not exist in this study.

Though my search was not fruitless. I did find one entry that was curious. My ancestor mentioned something about a public execution, however the execution failed. He mentioned some sort of prophet he had bound and left to be humiliated by the public before he was to be hanged. I was unsure of his crime, my ancestor did not list them in this account, but he did express frustration that this prophet somehow broke free from his post and fled. He claims that he think the prophet fled below the city.

It was odd, but I could not help but feel worried that the prophet fled to the dungeon. By now, he should be dead, but I saw no man in a stockade down below. I worried that there was more dead below with no master and we had no way of knowing that the death of the Necromancer would stop their movements.

I decided that we would need to return and do a clean sweep of the dungeons to make sure that the undead threat would be no more.

[stripyhorse23]

Films of the Year 2020

1) A Beautiful Day In The Neighbourhood

I re-watched this to make sure I wasn’t overrating it, but found myself every bit as moved, almost overwhelmed, as the first time I saw it.  The confidence of Marielle Heller’s filmmaking is such that nothing ever feels forced, her themes never have to be underlined, nor does she ever have to draw attention to the quietly excellent below-the-line elements.  Tom Hanks exudes warmth and compassion as Mr. Rogers, matched step for step by Matthew Rhys as the guarded, cynical journalist who resists the possibility of goodness and comfort with every fibre of his being.  Some of the most masterfully filmed conversation scenes of the year - the diner sequence alone is extraordinary.

2) Parasite

Hugely good fun, wildly unexpected, handles its tonal shifts fantastically with an ensemble cast that’s totally in tune to one another, and slickly channels the capitalist satire of Bong Joon-ho’s earlier films.  It’s not that Parasite is saying anything that different or original necessarily, but it feels utterly of its moment and despite its anarchic energy is never glib or peevish.  I squealed several times, laughed even more, and the film left me with a weird, immovable sense of melancholy.  Deeply impressive.

3) Portrait Of A Lady On Fire

The range that Céline Sciamma has shown over just four films!  Deliberately paced without ever feeling slow, I loved how invested this was in portraiture as an art form and how that folded into Marianne’s burgeoning feelings for Héloïse.  Unlike a lot of other love stories, and by nature of its subject matter, Portrait is interested not just in how its two protagonists make one another feel but how they perceive one another.  The ghostly apparitions that Marianne witnesses feel at first like a false note only for that to pay off beautifully in the final act.  Héloïse’s final words are up there with The Lives of Others in terms of last lines that make you break out in goosebumps.

4) And Then We Danced

For a film that’s so concerned with the hard lines of its dance movements, it’s appropriate how tuned-in the screenplay is to when it needs to puncture its atmosphere of repressive masculinity with compassion and tenderness.  Each relationship in the story is replete with texture and feeling, not just Merab’s rambunctious, chaotic home life, but also his dance partner / best friend.  What really made the movie for me was how focused it was on Merab’s own journey, outside of and alongside his relationship with another male dancer.

5) A Hidden Life

Malick is back, baby!  Doesn't quite reach the giddy heights of his filmography up to and including The Tree of Life and the three-hour runtime is a little punishing, but Malick is clearly working with a renewed sense of focus and purpose. Tracking the life of Franz Jägerstätter, a conscientious objector who was executed by the Nazis in 1943, I was unexpectedly and profoundly moved by A Hidden Life’s spiritual curiosity.  Franz's commitment to his faith might seem alien, but it becomes clear that it's the only thread he has to hold onto in order to see him through; even his relationship with his steadfast wife is defined by their shared religion.  The roving camera and Jörg Widmer's stunning depictions of bucolic life turned sour, as the small village community become spiteful and cruel, also feel like some sort of spiritual rebuke (and it's notable that we're kept closely within Franz's POV rather than venturing out into the atrocities that lie on the margins of the film).  I fully lost it when I realised that the title is taken from the monumental final paragraph of Middlemarch.

6) Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Eliza Hittman’s new film is definitely going where you think it’s going, but that hardly matters when the filmmaking and performances are this strong.  Whilst it’s concerned with the difficulties of obtaining an abortion for vulnerable young women, that’s not all that’s on its mind, and I was struck by how well it draws the patriarchal society these two teenagers have to manoeuvre through every day.  Hittman’s New York is a nightmare landscape, with Hélène Louvert’s cinematography expressively capturing the sense of oppressiveness and isolation that big cities can have on a person.  Like with Beach Rats, Hittman draws fine performances from her leads, ones that say a lot with very little dialogue, and of course the scene that gives the film its name is just fantastic.

7) Corpus Christi

Somehow manages to overcome its reliance on coincidences in the early going to become an exhilarating, deeply-felt film about the failures of organised religion and the limits of faith.  Bartosz Bielena could take me to church any day of the week, and he's truly electric as the ex-con who masquerades as the priest of a small town recently rocked by tragedy.  The plot could easily be that of a Hollywood rom-com, and it's to the film's credit that, aforementioned coincidences aside, it's always interested in digging deeper.  It's incredibly powerful as a testament to how difficult it is to confront the most difficult truths about ourselves and how grief is turned outwards.  The visceral, upsetting fight scene that closes the film is memorable, sure, but it’s the troubled character study at its centre that ensures Corpus Christi lingers.

8) Boys State

I suppose you might argue that finding a microcosm of American politics at an annual event where a group of 17-year-old boys are asked to form their own government is a little like shooting fish in a barrel, but directors Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine mine their subject matter for much more than simple prescience.  Impeccably cast and edited, it manages to be simultaneously hugely entertaining (with true heroes and villains) and also an insightful, terrifying window into the glibness with which white American men treat both real world issues and anyone on the other side of the argument.  There were other, perhaps more accomplished documentaries released in 2020, but Boys State was so irresistibly of its time and so gripping because of that it kept creeping up in my estimation as the year wore on.

9) The Forty-Year-Old Version

What a fun, smart screenplay this is.  Which isn't to say there isn't plenty of other things that impress about this debut feature focused on an almost-forty-year-old Black woman who, frustrated with the dead end her career as a playwright seems to be facing, turns to rap as an alternative means of expression.  It's incredibly astute on the ways in which Black artists are forced to compromise to appease white gatekeepers and perceived audiences, a topic that it handles with equal parts anger and wry humour.  The film isn't blind, either, to the ways in which Radha's frustrations impact her relationships (particularly with her loyal agent/best friend).  When the only complaint you have about a film is that it suffers from a surfeit of ideas, it’s indicative of what a special, unique voice it possesses.

10) Rocks

A huge step up from the stolid, dishwater-y Suffragette.  The film’s deceptive simplicity in its depiction of a teenage girl and her younger brother who suddenly find themselves having to navigate an adult world they’re not ready for allows for the performances and screenplay to fill in the bustling, often joyful elements of Rocks’ life.  Cast perfectly top to bottom, some of the film’s best scenes are where Rocks and her mates are just hanging out, shooting the shit with one another.  And whilst there’s a heart-breaking centre to this particular story, it never feels reliant on pulling your heart strings, or leaning too heavily into the more troubling aspects of Rocks’ life.

Ten performances that I loved this year: Cosmo Jarvis in Calm With Horses, Joe Keery in Spree, Radha Blank in The Forty-Year-Old Version, Delroy Lindo in Da 5 Bloods, Bartosz Bielena in Corpus Christi, Cho Yeo-jeong in Parasite, Hugh Jackman in Bad Education, Alfre Woodard in Clemency, Johnny Flynn in Emma and Haley Bennett in Swallow.

[petersasteria]

168 Hours - Haz Osterfield AU (Prologue)

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Haz Osterfield Masterlist ||  Ultimate Masterlist || 168 Hours Masterlist

DISCLAIMER:  *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which your son’s wish comes true and it turns horrible. Now, he has to fix it in 168 hours.

The city is crowded today. It's filled with tourists, families, businessmen and businesswomen, teenagers hanging out with their friends, couples on a lovely date, single people enjoying life, a couple getting married in a church nearby. All kinds of people are in the city.

Y/N is out with her best friend this lovely afternoon. They're shopping for all things for weddings, because she's getting married this week to her fiancé, Thomas Stanley Holland.

Thomas Stanley Holland is such a... man. He's a rich and cocky boy who gets whatever he wants. He'll soon inherit his father's furniture company and he'll be getting married this week. He's marrying Y/N, his long time girlfriend.

Y/N Y/L/N isn't sure what to feel. She doesn't know if it's a good idea to marry her long time boyfriend. They've been together for four years. She just graduated from university with the course of interior design. She loves Tom. No, she loved him. She loved him before, but as time went on, Tom changed. She doesn't even know how she was able to get a rich man like Tom.

Her lifestyle is totally different from his. His weekends consisted of lavish parties, random getaways at small countries, drinking the most exquisite champagne, eating sumptuous food, trying delicacies from foreign countries and sometimes just staying at his palace like house with his family. His best friend, Bradley Simpson, is a frequent visitor of the Holland estate.

She and Tom met at a clothing shop. She didn't know what to buy, because she's torn between two rompers. She loved both of it, but her budget is only for one romper. Tom saw her and offered to buy her the rompers and in return, she'd go out to dinner with him. One date turned into two and two turned into three and before she knew it, he was asking her to be his girlfriend. She loved him and said yes. Their first date as boyfriend and girlfriend was at Italy. She thought it was too much, but he insisted.

But somewhere in the middle something just changed.

"So Y/N, are you ready to get married?!" her best friend, Saoirse, asked, her eyes filled with excitement. Y/N smiled at her and just nodded, not saying another word. Saoirse noticed this, but she didn't want to push it so she continued to ramble, "Let's go to the book shop!"

They immediately enter the nearest book shop and she allowed yourself to get lost along the rows of shelves with books of romance or thrillers. She was walking past the shelf whilst skimming through the spine of the books when she tripped over something. Or someone, rather. The person scrambled up to help her and she looked to see who it was and it was a guy about her age. He was tall with dark blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and a sheepish smile on his face, "I'm so sorry about that. I knew I shouldn't have sat on the floor. It's just that my feet are hurting and I'm so engrossed with the book I'm reading so I-"

"It's okay." she chuckled. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I wasn't hurt anyway."

She didn't believe in love at first sight, but she did now. They shyly smiled at each other and just stood in front of each other.

"So, uh, can I- can I get your number?" the guy asked, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze fell to his shoes.

"I don't even know your name." she smirked. The guy smiled at her, "Harrison Osterfield. And you are?"

"Y/N Y/L/N." she grinned. She reached for her calling card in her bag and gave it to Harrison. "Call me, okay?"

"Okay, princess." Harrison winked as he handed her his calling card too. "So, are you from around here or-"

"Y/N, what are you doing?!" she turned around and saw Saoirse with raised eyebrows. "You're getting married this week and you're flirting with some guy who's," Saoirse looked at Harrison up and down, "no offense, not as near as Tom's status! You're lucky you won't end up with- with...what's your name?"

"Harrison."

"Harrison!" Saoirse exclaimed, looking at Y/N. "He seems great and all, but he's not Tom. This is just a temptation thing, because you're settling down soon and you want a last fling."

"We have to go." Saoirse said as she walked out of the book shop. Y/N looked at Harrison, "I'm so-"

"You didn't tell me that you were engaged." Harrison frowned. He could've sworn he heard his heart breaking into millions of pieces.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but in all honesty, I felt something between us. I swear." Y/N frowned.

"Okay, if you say so." Harrison shrugged it off. "I got to go anyway." He gathered his stuff and grabbed the book he was previously reading. He walked to the counter, paid for the book, and left. Y/N sighed and walked out to see Saoirse standing by the door.

"I still don't understand why you were talking to him." Saoirse rolled her eyes as she and Y/N continue their errands.

-

Y/N and Harrison have been texting for the past six days and today is Y/N's wedding day. She felt so bad for getting close with another man and falling for the said man. But she wasn't happy with Tom anymore.

Haz Congratulations! Today's your wedding. Have fun x Wish I could be there, but I'm not invited lmao and I'm running errands today.

Y/N smiled at the text but immediately frowned when her father entered the dressing room to tell her "it's time to get married". She turned off her phone and puts it in her purse and gave it to her maid of honor.

"I can't believe you're signing up for the rest of your life at 21 years old." Y/N's dad smiled. "You're not a little girl anymore and I trust you, but just know that I'm always here for you, pumpkin. I love you."

"I love you too, dad." Y/N smiled as they left the dressing room.

After the entourage, everyone turned to the big door where Y/N is coming in. The doors opened and Y/N came in with her father. Tom smiled proudly and Bradley excitedly pats Tom's shoulder.

"This is it, man." Bradley whispered.

"Yup. I can't fucking wait. We're going to Santorini after this." Tom whispered, his gaze not leaving Y/N.

Y/N and her father reached the altar. Tom shook hands with Y/N's father and her father told Tom to take care of her. Tom nodded and smiled. Tom and Y/N stood in their places in front of the priest. Y/N's thoughts are elsewhere. Meaning, her thoughts were on Harrison and what he's doing.

"If anyone wants to object, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Y/N nervously looked around and gulped. Tom doesn't look around, because he knew no one would even dare.

Or so he thought.

"I object." Y/N said. Everyone gasped and Tom's jaw dropped. Bradley's eyes widen in shock and pats Tom's back, a subtle way of letting him know that he's there for him.

"Wha- Why?!" Tom asked with confusion written all over his face.

Y/N took a deep breath and looked in Tom's eyes. Those brown eyes she once loved are now replaced with blue eyes owned by the new man she loves.

"You're just having cold feet, love." Tom desperately tried to change Y/N's mind.

"I'm so sorry, Tom." Y/N cried. "I don't love you anymore and I realized that I can't marry you while pretending to love you. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"I also know about what happened in Prague. I know you slept with someone. I just acted like I didn't know, but I can't stay with you and let you think I'm stupid and that I wouldn't know or find out. I also know it wasn't a one time thing and that's when I started not loving you... it hurt a lot, Tom."

Y/N looked at Bradley and said, "You knew about him sleeping with different girls every time he's out of the country and you never had the decency to tell me. I treated you like a friend and you couldn't even do the right thing."

Bradley just looked down in shame.

She turned back to Tom, "I tried everything I could to love you again, but I couldn't anymore. I'm sorry."

With that, she took her purse from her maid of honor and ran away.

Tom just stood there with tears streaming down his face. He felt humiliated and he felt bad for being so insensitive to what Y/N was feeling.

Y/N's father looked at Tom and shook his head.

-

Y/N ran through the city in hopes that she would run into the man she fell in love with. Fate seemed to be on her side, though. As she turned right, she bumped into someone's chest. They held Y/N so she doesn't fall.

"I'm so- Y/N?! What are you doing here?"

She looked up and smiled, "Harrison!"

"Aren't you supposed to get married?" Harrison lightly chuckled.

She shook her head and cupped his face and smiled, "I left him."

"What? Why?"

"I don't love him anymore. I stopped loving him a long time ago." she told him. "I love you, Harrison."

"You love me?" he asked in shock. She just nodded. "But I'm not him. I can't give you everything you want and I can't take you to different places every weekend and-"

"Yes, you're not him. You're not him and that's makes you different and it's better. I want you and I want to stay with you." she said in all honesty.

"I'd love that." Harrison smiled. "Oh, and I love you too."

She grinned and pulled him in for a kiss.

* * * *

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ???

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐱

[sebastianshaw]

@sammysdewysensitiveeyes- Fabian for “Vampire: The Masquerade” and “Werewolf: The Apocalypse”! Under a cut because SO MUCH, sorry, the World of Darkness setting as A LOT OF LORE and it’s REALLY COOL so I enjoy gushing about where my guys would fit and why!

FABIAN As a vampire, Fabian would be a Lasombra, Ventrue, or Setite, depending which game that I was playing. If it’s a Camarilla or Cam-Anarch game, Ventrue. Ventrue are one of the common Cam clans, and almost all Ventrue are Cam. High positions are most often held by Ventrue, and having a Ventrue be the Prince (Cam ruler of a city) is such a cliche that people will often remark positively if a Storyteller (the DM) chooses another clan for that seat. If it’s a Sabbat game, he’d be a Lasombra. While any clan can join the Sabbat, the Tzimisce and Lasombra are its founders, and almost exclusively found in it. You’d be hard-pressed to find any in the Cams or Anarchs, though they do exist. And if it were an Independent Alliance or Casablanca game (a game where all three sects co-exist in a city and you can be any), he’d be a Setite. The Independent Alliance (IA) was formed by the Giovanni and Setites, two formally independent clans whose members never (or seldom) joined any sect, into a sect of their own so that they could gain the political protections and benefits of such, without having to join up with anyone else. As a note for context, the Cam, the Anarchs, and the IA may all have power struggles, and the Anarchs and Cam in particuliar have beef, but they can and do all co-exist in the same cities, and members of each group may even socialize with each other as friends. The Sabbat do NOT co-exist with the others, at least not peacefully or happily. The Sabbat don’t just “have beef” with the Cam, they want to wipe them out and the IAs along with them, and the Cam is pretty happy to return the favor, as will the IAs and Anarchs too. The other three are like, different political parties basically, though their feuds CAN turn bloody too, but the Sabbat are the “bad guys” to the others. (And the Baali and Infernalists are bad guys to EVERYBODY, like basically they’re so evil most people consider them unplayable and all the other sects want to wipe them out for their crimes) So yeah, vampire politics are murder ;) But hey, that’s where Fabian THRIVES! So, the ones that fit most are the Lasombra. They hail primarily from Spain, and are master of the power of Obtenebration---the manipulation and creation of shadow and darkness. They are predatory, backstabbing, power-hungry and unapologetically arrogant. The Lasombra are proud elegant predators, social darwinists, cruel manipulators, and naturally seek positions of power and authority because many Lasombra have domineering and superior personalities that necessitates having someone beneath them. They will use any and all tools available to ensure loyalty, such as the Blood Bond, coercion, physical intimidation, and unapologetic use of Dominate (a power that lets you control others with verbal commands) so working for a Lasombra, is a demanding, difficult, and unrewarding experience at BEST.  Lasombra ghouls (ghoul = human enslaved to a vampire) fall into two broad categories. The first are the raft of accountants, lawyers, and bankers that the Lasombra need to keep the finances rolling in, and perhaps these are the luckier of the two groups – as long as the books balance at the end of the day, they will live to see another one. The second group cater to the Lasombra's difficulty with their own image. Some Lasombra keep an army of personal attendants – scores of ghouls to brush the mistress' hair, do her makeup, and dress her. Such attendants are punished severely for infractions. If the hair is not brushed with exactly one hundred strokes the ghoul might find themselves on the wrong side of the hairbrush, a Potence fuelled hand wielding it. Also due to the Lasombra's curse, ghouls of either stripe might have their faces reduced to identical spiderwebs of scar tissue, or be forced to wear featureless white masks. They have strong ties to the Catholic tradition, and have gotten their hooks deeply in the Church, enabling them to puppeteer much of its power in Europe, and that’s probably why a lot of the Sabbat---the vampire sect to which almost all Lasombra belong-- is based on a twisted version of Catholicism, with perverted rituals and rank titles like Priest and Bishop. There are many different camps of Lasombra, but the one I think Fabian would be in is called The Kings and Queens of Shadow. They take part in mortal institutions, exerting influence, gathering resources and in general keeping the mortal population unaware of the vampires among them. In this setting, there is something called diablerie. It’s when one vampire sucks out all the blood of another and their soul with it, killing that other vampire and taking all their power into themselves. The Camarilla forbids diablerie. But the Sabbat embraces it.  The Lasombra are a clan driven by ambition, and consequently they in particular accept diablerie as a necessary facet of their existence; from the Lasombra perspective, the only tragedy in diablerie is that such an unworthy vampire as the vessel was sired in the first place. Each clan has a curse, and for the Lasombra it’s that they cast no reflections. They cannot be seen in mirrors, bodies of water, reflective windows, polished metals, photographs and security cameras, etc. This curious anomaly even extends to the clothes they wear and objects they carry. Many other clans believe that the Lasombra have been cursed in this manner for their vanity. Additionally, due to their penchant for darkness, Lasombra take an extra level of damage from sunlight.  Lasombra pride themselves on doing things with style and elegance, have a fascination with chess, are often drawn to the sea, and have a notably sadistic Embrace--- when considering a candidate, the sire usually totally destroys the target's life and sees how the target reacts. If the candidate falls apart, then he was obviously unworthy of the Embrace. If he can continue to survive and even overcome the challenges, then these challenges tend to become more extreme, until the sire decides that the candidate has demonstrated enough merit and is Embraced. They’re a very...SHAW clan, in many ways. But also very Fabian. Fabian is obviously vain, manipulative, power-hungry, and would absolutely suck out someone’s soul to get stronger. He is absolutely backstabbing and it WOULD be a CURSE for him not see his own reflection. Fabian is also of Spanish origin, as most Lasombra are, and he’s got the Catholic theme going low-key----he preached about Magneto in a way that was literally just Christianity with Magneto as Jesus, and “Acolyte” is a rank in the Catholic church as well as just a generic word for a follower or servant. I can absolutely see him being proud and pseudo-pious, preaching the praises of Caine (the religious belief of the Sabbat, basically, which is very important to them) and going so hard on their Catholic-inspired ritual, while all the while just trying to wriggle into the most important positions possible and have the most vampires under his command, because Fabian just really likes controlling groups of people on a personal level. I play up Fabian’s silly side because it’s so much fun, but he can written as very dark just as easily, and this would be the place to do it. God help his Ghouls. Oh, and while most vampires think they’re superior to humans even if they don’t admit it, the Sabbat preaches vampires openly reigning over humans as chattel and cattle and doing away with the Masquerade entirely, so that goes pretty well with Fabian as the Acolytes leader too. In the Camarilla, which is the majority sect and the one most vampires will be a member of if they don’t really have any strong beliefs against it, he’d be a Ventrue. Ventrue are one of the “pillar clans” of the Cam, but in my opinion, they ARE the Clan. Other members can and do have positions in it, of course, but it’s the Ventrue who are really running things at the end of the day. The Ventrue are called the Blue Bloods, the Clan of Kings, the ones who wear the crown but also carry the responsibility of making vampire society work, and who bear the brunt of everyone else’s hatred for doing it---because everyone hates the boss, even though they need them. They’re seen as a snooty old boys club who only care about enforcing order for the sake of their own power, and that’s true, but they’re also necessary. A lot of people think of the Lasombra as “Sabbat Venture” or “Ventrue but religious” or “Ventrue but darker” and honestly, that’s not a bad summary. Ventrue are all about power. Ventrue know they are MEANT to rule, and are usually selected from people who are ALREADY rulers, whether it’s a merchant prince, a CEO, or a mafia don. Ventrue likewise are very selective about their Embrace, and you have a lot to live up to, a ton of training to go through, all these rules of etiquette and dignity and hierarchy to follow, they are quizzed and needled and will have a hard time, but it’s NOT on the level of the Lasombra. They have a strict pecking order among themselves and no matter what a big dog you were in life, you are still starting at the bottom. But you have literal eternity to work your way up. Ventrue are completely aware of the unsavory aspects of power, and while a Ventrue leader is just as likely to lead organized crime as he is a Fortune 500 company (the Ventrue really do not object to theft, so much as petty theft), he must always comport himself with dignity, with grace and with honor. At least publically. Ventrue take assaults on their stature very seriously. Spreading rumors, taking credit for another's work and insulting a Ventrue without just cause (publicly or privately) are just a few of the ways to make an enemy for life, and life is going to be a VERY long time for these guys. While the Lasombra are closely connected to religion, the Ventrue are all about politics and money. And unlike the Lasombra who are eager to turn on each other and weed out the week, the Ventrue, like a fraternity, do have a policy of  coming to each other's assistance in times of need, even if it is inconvenient to do so, and many Ventrue credit the clan’s success with this. Again, a Clan that Shaw could fit pretty well, and excel in, and that Fabian...would not be the BEST example, but would be the perfect example of the negative parts of the Ventrue, the stuck-up power-hungry yes-men who lick the boots of everyone above them and boss around everyone below them. The ones who will do anything to get ahead. The nastiest stereotypes of politicians and corrupt corporate executives. It’s very easy for me seeing him in a business suit---the most cliche attire for a Ventrue--sucking up to the Prince and then snapping at some fledgling. And being SO grumpy at having to come to the aid of his fellow patricians, but being the first to call on them for help. Finally, the Followers of Set, or Setites for short. While the dominant belief among vampires is that they are descended from the Biblical Caine, the first murderer, with an ‘e’ at the end of his name for extra edginess in this canon, the Setites claim a different lineage. They say they’re descended from the Egyptian god Set instead, and have an entire complex religion that is REALLY awesome but too intricate to go into. They’re associated with snakes, able to command them and even transform into them, and, like the Lasombra, are extra super duper sensitive to light even for vampires, to the point many have to wear sunglasses even at night to cope with the bright artificial lights of the city. The Setites are known as peddlers of vice, as tempters and corrupters, as the guys who can get you anything or anyone you want...but always at a price. No one smart EVER makes a deal with a Setite, and they HABITUALLY make people into addicts of one type or another (it’s part of their faith) and it’s for this reason they’re rightly looked at with tons of suspicion. But what everyone else doesn’t get is that they are not merely pimps and drug dealers and info-brokers, they are not just shadowy manipulators and sleazy silver-tongued liars, they are FANATICS. They are DEVOTED to their god and ideology, and everything they do is in service of him and his return, at least that’s how it’s supposed to be. As with real people, each Setite is an individual, and how each of them interprets their faith, and how devout they are, varies. Fabian, I think, is one of the Christians who sure doesn’t live like one, but believes God has his back, who will pray to God when he needs something but not any other time, and I think that’s how he’d be about Set as well----he believes in the guy, because of course it’s appealing to Fabian’s arrogance to see himself as the descendent of a god, but his devotion isn’t selfless at all as it can be with some Setites. His manipulation and power-mongerering and slithering in to whisper in your ear and living in hedonism, it’s not for Set, no matter how much he proclaims it. It’s for him. But he’ll preach Set in the Independent Alliance as hard as he’d preach Caine in the Sabbat. Also consider: Shaw also being a Lasombra and RAPIDLY getting fed up with Fabian’s shit. Fabian also could have been Embraced by a Toreador or Brujah, not because he actually fits them but because they THOUGHT he did. Like a Brujah could mistake his fake-activism for some cause as being the real thing, or a Toreador could just think he’s really good looking, that kind of deal. In the “Werewolf: The Apocalypse” setting, he’d either be a Silver Fang or a Shadow Lord. My personal pick is a Silver Fang who acts a lot more like a Shadow Lord. The Silver Fangs are the “Alpha Tribe” of the Garou Nation (Garou meaning werewolves), its traditional leaders and warlords. These proud aristocrats are divided into 13 Houses (though only 7 remain in modern times) based on their immaculately recorded lineages, and each House is ruled by a King or Queen, who answer only to the High King if there is one, and are served by Lords and stewards and so on down the line. Whatever their House, this tribe is known for their courage, honor, and physical beauty. Unfortunately, they’re also known for being stuck up and expecting other Garou to obey them, as they believe they have the divine mandate to rule their brethren ---something that many other werewolves react to with ridicule and scorn more and more in the current era. It gets worse than snobbery, though. They’re so obsessive about their pure perfect lineages, they arrange (read: control) the mating even of their Kinfolk (human and wolf relations of a Garou who are not Garou themselves, but whose children could be) to ensure blood purity. As with human royalty, this has resulted in inbreeding, causing the younger members to be born with... quirks - absent-mindedness, mild hallucinations, somnambulism - nothing overtly psychotic, but noticeable nevertheless. They need to start changing their ways soon before this problem gets worse, but most of them show NO signs of acknowledging that, let alone actually doing it. Just as the Lasombra are often described as the dark reflection of the Ventrue, so too are the Shadow Lords often seen as the dark counterpart to the Silver Fangs. Shadow Lords too have strict hierarchies, but while the Silver Lords openly attempt to rule other tribes, the Shadow Lords are politicians and manipulators who use their secretive ways to wrest as much power as they can. The Shadow Lords originated in the steppes of Eurasia, where they controlled human tribes by assuming an indispensable position within their societies that would exert no direct power, but whose word was heeded. And they’ve been playing that role ever since in the Garou Nation, serving the Silver Fangs as their viziers and their secret henchmen, doing those deeds that would harm their reputation. The Fangs used the Shadow Lords as scapegoats for their own dark deeds, and the Shadow Lords accepted this, seeing that it would benefit the Nation if the name of the Silver Fangs would remain “pure” in the eyes of others. At least, that’s how it used to be.  These days, they have a particular hatred for the Silver Fangs instead, seeing the them as an outdated dinosaur holding the rest back from achieving their full potential. The Shadow Lords would love to supplant the Fangs as the unquestioned leaders of the Garou, and will rarely pass up an opportunity to take their plans one step further. Shadow Lords are constantly behind the scenes of any group or faction they have been able to get their claws into, manipulating others like puppets and pawns to get what the tribe wants and needs. While most Shadow Lords believe their works are for the greater good, many other Garou see them as deceitful dogs who need to be kept in clear view.  The Shadow Lords are among the few tribes that are not only willing to sacrifice themselves for Gaia ( such is expected from every Garou), but also others in order to further their greater goal. Sacrifice plays an important role within the Tribe, and a Shadow Lord is expected to be willing to sacrifice anything in the cause of a given cause, himself and all of his allies included. This gives them their grim reputation among the Nation. No other tribe knows the nature of politics like the Shadow Lords, and they value brains over brawn, emphasizing cunning and manipulation over physical fights. You’d think then, that they would be small and weak, the Scar or Loki to the Silver Fang’s Mufasa and Thor. Not so. The wolf forms of Shadow Lords are HUGE muscular black beasts, looking more like giant pit bulls than wolves. They believe in POWER above all else, and that INCLUDES the physical.  There is no room in the Shadow Lords for showing weakness or mercy to an opponent, be it a battle of wits or of bodies. If you couldn’t guess, Shaw would ABSOLUTELY be a Shadow Lord werewolf. Fabian, I’m thinking, is a Silver Fang by birth, probably of the Ahroun (warrior) or perhaps a sly slimy Philodox (mediators, judges, interpreters of the law and settlers of disputes), a Homid (born in human form) but whose half-sister (Anne Marie) is a wolf kinfolk. Which, yes, means Anne Marie is a wolf in this verse. Not a werewolf, just a wolf. A very smart wolf that tags along INCESSANTLY after him. Any, Fabian is a Silver Fang, and he’s the WORST stereotype about it---arrogant, entitled, and thinks he can boss around every other werewolf because of it. Despite his apparent disgust for “lesser” tribes, he in fact actually PREFERS being around them, because he can’t pull this on other Silver Lords, especially those who outrank him. But even the highest-ranking member of another tribe is, to him, lesser than he is, so he can do this shit---though of course he frequently does not get away with it. Fabian wants to gain great power, rank, and renown in his tribe, but while he is a strong warrior, he is also a coward, and thus won’t go into a fight he knows he’ll lose, which keeps him from accomplishing anything truly great in battle. So he begins acting more like a Shadow Lord within his own tribe and outside it, wiggling into the position of advising and manipulating others into order to snag power and credit for himself, make others look bad by comparison, trick them into commiting errors he then swoops in and fixes, etc. All of which just serves to make his ego even more unbearable as he succeeds, though watching him toady and suck up is also hilarious. Also, while he scoffs at the “weakminded” products of his clan, feeling they were the RESULT of bad breeding rather than the attempts to avoid it, he in fact is one of them---his egomania is simply how his inbred madness manifests. Which is technically not his fault, but doesn’t make him any less insufferable for it. As a non-werewolf werebeast (the “Fera” or “Changing Breeds”) he’d be a Bastet (werecat) specifically a Simba, a werelion. As I said with Cateye, they are regal, proud, and powerful beyond compare...and also arrogant, domineering, and malicious, even under the best of circumstances. They aren’t villains, mind you, but magnificent slayers of demons. They just happen to think, like the Silver Fangs, that they were created to rule their brethren, something the normally antisocial Bastet almost universally reviled. They believe they are the ones to put things in order again, and also that humans should know their place as well. You can already see the Fabian appeal. It gets even better. As one of the most social tribes of the Bastet, the Simba adore their loved ones, and watch their Kinfolk very closely. The central organization of the Simba is the pride. Each pride has one “father”, or dominant male, and several “wives”  and “young hunters. Small prides defer to larger ones, and may owe allegiance to a “High King”. Every pride contains more females than males and is usually mixed with feline and/or human kin to ensure a healthy progeny. Simba have rites of initiation and rank; advancement in the pride is by combat, and only three adult males are allowed to remain in a pride. Most have only one. Females fight to be First Huntress and First Wife, though few can be both. Losers either die in combat or wander the plains in search of a new pride. So, lots of hierarchy, harems, and opportunity to force other people out so he can be top, both of the heap and the women. This is the shit Fabian LOVES and THRIVES in. They may not be big on manipulation, but physical combat isn’t a thing Fabian is a slouch in at all---he bested Psylocke before, after all, and he’s huge to boot. Speaking of that, the human forms are typically muscular, charismatic, and attractive. Their hair flows thick and rich; white Simba have cascading hair which blossoms into a mane during transformation, while African ones have thick afros or dreadlocks. So, tall, muscular, long luxuriant hair, that’s him! He’s probably a lone male currently seeking a Pride to take over, or has a small one that is other lone males he’s temporarily banded together with as their ‘leader’ until he can find a proper one. Or, god forbid, he’s actually the king of one his “wives” all claw him in the face when he tries anything As with his wolf version, I see him as a Homid, born a human, and of his Pyrio, I’d pick Night or Twilight, for his sneakiness. He seems open and direct like a Daylight Bastet, but for all his bragging and spotlight-hogging, his real work goes down in the shadows. (Daylight - open and direct, they tend to be diplomats, warriors, lawgivers, and protectors. Twilight - questioners and seekers, they tend to be detectives, lawyers, spies, or mystics Night - often withdrawn and reclusive, they tend to be assassins, scholars, scientists, and practitioners of dark magics.)