#the veil of veronica if you will | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alinathinkstoomuch · 2 months ago

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WILL YOU BE MY FAKE FIANCÉ?

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you find yourself in a sticky situation - you need a fiancé asap and the stern looking man at the bar seems to suffice. warnings: um reader thinks hotch is serial killer at one point, reader is actually really funny (LOL i was giggling so bad writing her dialogue), readers friends suck, the usual banter and chem word count: 3.8k

✧ masterlist

lemme know if y'all would want this as a mini series?? pls say yes because i had too much fun writing this!!!

It was silly, really. Actually, it was downright stupid. You had imagined a hundred different ways this conversation could go, each one more cringe-inducing than the last. And yet, here you were, en route to dinner with a group of women you still, for some inexplicable reason, referred to as your ‘friends.’

Except they weren’t friends. Not really. More like a collection of high school mean girls who had swapped lockers for brunch reservations, but still thrived on competition and thinly veiled judgment. Why you had continued to entertain their company remained one of life’s greatest mysteries. Maybe it was because some tiny, stubborn part of you still felt the need to prove yourself to them.

Old habits die hard.

Which was absurd, considering you had everything you’d ever wanted. A career you were proud of, a gorgeous apartment and a dog so beautiful he could model for Ralph Lauren. And yet, none of it mattered because you were missing one thing.

A love life.

Or rather, you had the start of one – an engagement, even. But much like a designer bag left too close to a lit candle, it went up in flames almost immediately.

And because self-preservation was clearly not your strong suit, you had told your ‘friends’ about the engagement… conveniently omitting the part where it had ended as quickly as it began.

No love lost there. He was a dick anyway.

Which brought you to now – marching toward an intimate jazz bar, running through all the ways you could break the news.

“Hey, ladies! So fun fact I am actually not engaged! But you were all right, turns out I’m just a walking red flag with great hair. Cheers!”

Yeah. That would go over well.

You pushed open the door to the jazz bar, smoothing your dress down and forcing your most dazzling, I totally have my life together smile. The inside was dimly lit, the hum of conversation mixing with the smooth sound of a saxophone in the background.

“Hi! There should be a reservation for under Veronica?” you told the hostess, who checked the list before glancing up apologetically.

“There’s no one here from your party yet, but I can show you to your table?”

Perfect. Just perfect. You nodded, following her to a sleek little table near the bar. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through texts until one popped up.

Veronica: Can’t wait to meet the fiancé! We’re running late. Be there soon! Xo.

Oh. No. No, no, no.

Your stomach did a dramatic, Oscar-worthy drop as panic set in. Your palms went clammy. Your perfectly planned exit strategies all disintegrated like cheap mascara in the rain.

You needed a fiancé. Now.

Your eyes darted wildly around the room, scanning the clientele for anyone remotely stupid – or kind – enough to rope into your plan. But instead, your gaze landed on someone who definitely didn’t look stupid. He looked serious, almost too serious. But he was alone, and that was good enough.

You shot up from your seat, heels clacking as you made a beeline toward him with the determination of a woman with everything on the line.

“Hi, hello,” you blurted out, earning a slow, assessing glance from deep brown eyes. “I need a favour. A huge, ridiculous, I-will-owe-you-my-soul kind of favour.”

“Sorry?”

“I just – I know this is insane, but I need you to pretend to be my fiancé for like, one hour. Maybe two. It’s a long story, and there is an actual pack of wolves arriving here any second, and if they smell fear, I am done for.” You clasped your hands together. “Please, please, please. I will do anything.”

He stared at you like he was debating calling security. Or possibly the nearest psychiatric facility.

“Everything alright?” Another voice joined. An older man, dressed impeccably clapped your very reluctant target on the back.

“I just need to borrow your friend, pretty please?” you said, turning to the newcomer with the kind of desperate charm that had gotten you out of speeding tickets before. “I promise I will buy you the most expensive bottle of scotch this bar serves. You drink scotch, right?”

The older man’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Oh, I love her,” he announced, before turning to his friend. “Take him. I was just leaving.”

Your supposed fiancé-to-be let out a slow breath, clearly reconsidering every choice that led him to this moment.

You beamed. “See? It’s fate.”

“This is – I –”

The man looked genuinely at a loss for words, which based on the suit he was wearing, was not a common occurrence.

“Come on, Hotch,” the older man grinned, clapping him on the back again. “Help the lady out. And I cannot wait to hear all about it on Monday.” He turned to you, extending a hand. “David Rossi.”

You shook his hand, relieved that at least one of them was enjoying this. “Nice to meet you, David. And I am really sorry for ruining your evening with your friend.”

“Oh, sweetheart, are you kidding? This is better than my evening. This is entertainment.” He winked at you before tossing a final smirk at Hotch. “Be good to your fiancée.”

With that, he strolled off, leaving you alone with the man you had just kidnapped into romance fraud.

You turned back to him. “So,” you said brightly. “Fiancé.”

He stared at you, face unreadable. “This is insane.”

“Yes, well, so is spending two-thousand dollars on a handbag, and I do that regularly. Now, come on.” You reached for his wrist and pulled him toward the table. “So Hotch is your name? Kind of… odd, don’t you think? Or is it a nickname? I don’t really have many nicknames – well, aside from what my ex-fiancé used to call me, but I’ll save you the details.”

Hotch exhaled through his nose, looking like he was already regretting this. “Do you do this often?”

“Fake engagements? No, not really. Actual engagements? Also no, considering how the last one went.” You sighed dramatically. “But you’d think after everything, I’d have at least one decent dating story. Instead, I have an ex who took our wedding fund and bought a motorcycle. A motorcycle, Hotch. Like, what exactly am I supposed to do with that?”

“He took your money?”

“And my sanity, which gives me the right to act this way in public.”

Before he could respond, a chorus of excited squeals erupted from the entrance.

“Oh my God! There she is!”

You moved to stand in front of Hotch. “I will do whatever you want me to. If you need me to kill someone and hide the body, I will literally be your girl – just please go with this.” You tugged at his tie, smoothing it down in a rush. “I’ll take the lead, you just look pretty.”

“That’s not usually how this works –”

“Well, Hotch, welcome to the world of desperate women. Now smile like you love me.”

He didn’t have the chance to argue as Veronica and her entourage descended upon you like a pack of well-dressed hyenas, eyes dancing with curiosity and suspicion.

“Finally! We were starting to think you made him up,” Veronica teased, her eyes scanning Hotch with an intensity that made even you nervous. “So? Introduce us!”

You plastered on your most graciously fake smile and looped an arm through Hotch’s, feeling the tension in his muscles as he clearly contemplated whether this was his personal hell. “Alright here he is! Meet H–”

“Aaron,” he cut you off smoothly, extending a hand toward Veronica.

She barely glanced at it before swatting it away. She then took a step forward, pulling him into a hug which he stiffly endured like someone who had never been voluntarily embraced in his life.

“Oh, honey, we don’t do handshakes here,” she purred, clinging for a second too long before releasing him. “You’re so handsome.”

You jumped in before Veronica could try something ridiculous like feeling his biceps.

“Right?” you grinned, linking your arm through his again. “Total catch. It’s why I snatched him up so fast.”

“And how did that happen?” one of the other girls asked as the group drifted toward the table.

Hotch, mercifully, was quick on the uptake. “She quite literally crashed into me – spilled her coffee all over my suit.”

“Oh my God, that’s so her,” another girl gasped, and you nodded rapidly.

“It was tragic,” you added, dramatically placing a hand on his arm. “The suit did not make it.”

As you neared the table, you reached for the seat, but before you could pull it out, Hotch’s hand brushed yours, stopping you. Instead, he pulled the chair out for you before you could protest.

Was he… really committing to the bit? Or was this just ingrained in his perfect gentleman DNA?

Before you could process it, the table erupted into ooohs and ahhhs like a live studio audience.

Thankfully, you caught a reprieve as the girls turned their attention to the wine list, debating the merits of a bold red versus a crisp white. Taking advantage of the moment, you lifted your own menu to shield your face and glanced at Hotch through the gap.

“I am so sorry,” you mouthed.

“You should be,” he murmured back, just low enough for only you to hear. But there was no bite to his words – if anything, you swore you caught the ghost of a smirk.

“So, don’t keep us waiting in suspense,” Veronica chirped. “Tell us about the engagement! How did it happen? All we got was a text saying you were engaged and a picture of your ring –” She paused, eyes narrowing as they moved to your hand. You followed her line of sight instinctively, cursing internally when you realised the problem.

Your fingers were adorned with rings – statement pieces, dainty bands – but notably none of them were an engagement ring.

Hotch, of course, noticed immediately. He exhaled lightly through his nose, like he was already preparing to clean up your mess.

“Oh,” you laughed, waving a dismissive hand, “I took it off to get it resized, you know how it is.”

Veronica’s brow lifted. “Resized?”

“Yeah, it was a little loose,” you rushed out, the lie forming faster than you could think it through. “Didn’t want to risk it falling down the sink or –”

“It wasn’t loose,” Hotch interjected once more and you froze.

Every pair of eyes at the table snapped to him.

“It wasn’t?” you echoed, unsure if he was about to throw you under the bus or save you from getting flattened by it.

Hotch leaned back, one arm casually draping over the back of your chair as if this was just another Friday night for him. “No,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “She just can’t stand the feeling of something on her finger when she sleeps. She takes it off every night, leaves it on the nightstand.”

Oh.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Not only had he just handed you an ironclad excuse, but he had done it so effortlessly that even you almost believed it.

The table collectively melted.

“That is so sweet,” one of the girls sighed.

“That makes sense,” Veronica finally conceded, though her eyes lingered on Hotch. She didn’t seem completely sold yet. “So, how did you propose? Give us all the details.”

Another reprieve – just as the waitress arrived to take your drink and appetizer orders. You had never been so grateful for a poorly timed interruption, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the question would be forgotten by the time she walked away.

It wasn’t.

The second the waitress disappeared, Veronica’s eyes flicked right back to you and Hotch, expectant.

“You tell it better, sweetheart,” he encouraged, that same miniscule smirk making an appearance.

Oh, he was enjoying this too much.

“Well,” you started, buying yourself a second. “It was…unexpected.”

Hotch nodded solemnly, as if recalling a life-changing event. “Completely.”

You shot him a look before continuing. “We were on a trip –”

“A weekend getaway,” Hotch supplied easily.

“Right, exactly,” you said, catching on. “And it was… romantic?”

“Cold,” he corrected. “Snow everywhere.”

You blinked at him. Snow? Was this man just winging it?

“It was freezing,” you emphasized, rolling with it. “And I remember thinking, God, this would be the worst time to propose, because my fingers are so cold, I might drop the ring.”

The table giggled in delight, completely enthralled, hanging onto every word.

Hotch exhaled through his nose like this was all very serious business. “Which you nearly did.”

Your brows shot up. “Right! Yes, because I was so shocked.”

“You cried,” Hotch added.

You nearly choked. “I – what?”

He turned to you, gaze softening ever so slightly, voice dipping just enough to sell the sincerity. “You cried.”

And just like that, the table melted again.

“Oh my God,” one of the girls whispered, clutching her chest.

“Like, happy tears?” another asked, eyes wide with wonder.

Hotch’s lips quirked at the corner, and damn it, you had never wanted to throw your drink at someone so badly. “Of course.”

You forced a dreamy sigh, resisting the urge to stomp on his foot under the table. “I mean… obviously.”

Veronica tapped a manicured nail against her glass, eyes narrowing. “And what did he say?”

Hotch turned to you, expression a mystery, before casually resting his hand over yours. The move was so smooth, so convincing, that it had the exact opposite effect – it made your heeled foot find his shoe under the table, pressing down with just enough force to say don’t even think about it.

“I think I said something along the lines of…” He paused, eyes fixed on you. “If you need me to kill anyone and bury the body, I’m your man. Marry me, sweetheart.’”

You stiffened, your foot pressing down harder, while the table erupted in delighted gasps and squeals.

“Oh my God,” Veronica practically screamed.

“That is so romantic,” one of the girls swooned, gripping the arm of the woman next to her.

“I cannot with you two,” another giggled, fanning herself like this was the greatest love story ever told.

Meanwhile, you were trying very hard not to commit an actual murder.

You ripped your hand free from his grasp and covered your mouth with it, forcing what looked like a lovesick reaction but was actually a barely contained threat.

“What the hell?” you whispered between your teeth, smiling like the perfect doting fiancée.

Hotch, infuriatingly unbothered, leaned in. “You said to go with it.”

Your foot pressed down again. “I meant like a normal person, not a psychopath,” you hissed.

“Ugh,” Veronica sighed dreamily. “This is disgustingly adorable.”

You turned back to the group, still smiling, but if looks could kill, your fiancé wouldn’t have made it out of this dinner alive.

For the rest of the evening, you definitely had too much wine, and as the night stretched on, the conversation finally drifted away from you.

Instead, your so-called friends delved into their usual habits – gossiping about people they hadn’t seen since college, subtly competing over whose husband had the most prestigious job and complaining about their high-maintenance lives.

You nodded, smiled, threw in a well-timed oh, totally where necessary, but mostly, you just kept drinking. Hotch, meanwhile, remained the picture of polite disinterest, responding when needed as he sipped his bourbon. If he was suffering, he didn’t show it – except for the occasional glance in your direction, as if silently asking are you sure these are your friends?

By the time dessert rolled around, you were exhausted from the performance. Thankfully, your friends were equally buzzed, giggling and snapping selfies before finally, finally deciding it was time to call it a night.

Outside the restaurant, the group exchanged dramatic goodbyes, air-kissing and promising to “do this again soon” (lies, all of them), before disappearing into cabs and sleek black cars.

And just like that, you and Hotch were alone.

“You know,” you sighed, rifling through your purse in search of your phone. “I would apologize again for this, but I think if anyone owes an apology, it’s you.”

Hotch, standing beside you, hands in his pockets, merely raised a brow. “Me?”

You looked up at him with a glare. “Yes, you. You didn’t make this awful evening any easier. Snow? Really? I hate the snow.”

“I might be way out of line saying this, but you seem too good to consider that group of women your friends. Especially ones you feel you have to impress.”

“Impress them? That’s not what I was doing. I just –” You huffed, crossing your arms. “I grew up with them, and they’ve managed to make my life –” You stopped yourself, pressing your lips together before shaking your head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

Hotch studied you for a moment, like he was picking apart every little detail. “I think it matters more than you’re willing to admit.”

You forced a laugh, throwing a hand in the air. “Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to care about it. You’re free. No more fake engagement, no more ridiculous stories, no more Marry me, sweetheart nonsense.”

His lips twitched slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tilted his head toward the street. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

You didn’t protest, abandoning the search for your phone and following your former fake fiancé back to his car.

Once inside, you rattled off your address as Hotch pulled it up on the satnav. Settling into the seat, you flipped down the visor mirror, swiping at the smudged mascara under your eyes.

“Do you have any tissues?” you asked, glancing over as Hotch reversed out of the parking lot.

“Check the glovebox.”

You reached over, popping it open and immediately froze. Because nestled between some paperwork and an actual box of tissues, sat a gun.

You yanked your hand back so fast you nearly dislocated your shoulder. “Uh. What the hell, Hotch?”

He barely spared you a glance. “Relax.”

“Relax?” you repeated, voice pitching higher. “There’s a gun in your glovebox! Oh my God. Are you – are you a criminal? Did I just spend an entire evening pretending to be engaged to a mobster? Jesus Christ, I really know how to pick them – I mean, you’re making my actual ex-fiancé look like a saint!”

“Check under the gun,” Hotch instructed, voice impossibly calm.

“Oh no, no, no, mister.” You flailed a hand in his direction. “You are not fooling me into touching your murder weapon so you can get my fingerprints on it and frame me for whatever crime you have committed using it! Please stop the car before I jump out of it. I swear to God, I will tuck and roll.”

Hotch exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face like he was deeply reconsidering his life choices. Then, with no ceremony, he flicked on the turn signal and pulled over to the curb.

Your heart plummeted. “Oh my God,” you whispered, pressing yourself back against the seat. “You are a criminal. You’re going to kill me. This is how I die.”

Hotch shot you a look, utterly unimpressed. Then, without a word, he leaned over –

You squeaked, pressing yourself further into the seat. “Oh my God – please don’t kill me –I haven’t been to Paris yet, and I still haven’t figured out how to fold a fitted sheet –”

His hand bypassed you completely, reaching into the glove box. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled something from beneath the gun and held it up to your face.

An FBI badge.

You stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the badge.

“Oh.” A pause. “Well, this is awkward.”

Hotch dropped the badge into your lap, but you immediately picked it up, flipping it over, holding it up to the light, just in case it was fake. There had to be fakes out there. You had gotten a police outfit that came with a badge for Halloween once.

Hotch watched your scrutiny with the patience of a saint. “Are you done?”

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “Okay, so in my defence, you could’ve led with that instead of just telling me to dig under a loaded firearm.”

“I assumed you were capable of following basic instructions.”

“That was your first mistake,” you muttered, still recovering from the emotional rollercoaster that was the last five minutes. You inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest. “Well. This has been a night.”

Hotch shook his head, pulling back onto the road as you snapped closed his badge and placed it back in the glovebox, avoiding the gun like poison.

“So, FBI, huh?” you finally said, breaking the quiet.

“That’s what the badge says.”

You couldn’t help it – you laughed. A real, actual laugh for the first time this entire ridiculous, chaotic evening. And once you started, you couldn’t stop. It bubbled out of you, unrestrained, until you were clutching your stomach, gasping for breath, sure your mascara was completely smudged from the tears streaking down your face.

“Are you alright?”

You wheezed, waving a hand in his direction. “No! No, I am not! Because I just spent an entire evening fake-engaged to an FBI agent, and the first thing I said to you was – and I quote – ‘If you ever need to kill someone and bury the body, I’m your girl.’”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of proposition in my entire career.”

You snorted, barely containing another wave of laughter. “That’s comforting. Truly.”

He smirked, eyes still on the road. “Though, I’ll admit—it’s one of the more memorable introductions I’ve had.”

“Oh, great. So I’m going to be a story you tell people?”

“Most definitely.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Fantastic. Just what I needed, to be the punchline of an FBI dinner party.”

“Don’t worry,” Hotch said dryly. “I’ll leave out the part where you almost jumped out of a moving vehicle.”

You peeked at him between your fingers. “Gee, thanks.”

A silence settled over the car and eventually Hotch slowed to a stop in front of your building shifting into park. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel before he glanced at you.

“Well… this has been… a very unique experience.” Your hand found the door handle, but you didn’t move. You weren’t quite ready to step back into reality just yet.

Hotch nodded. “It has.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep up the act? I think Veronica was in love with you.”

“Do you want to keep up the act? Ten minutes ago, you were convinced I was a serial killer.”

“Well, technically, I thought you were a mobster. There’s a difference.”

Hotch tilted his head. “And now?”

You let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the seat. “Now? I think you might actually be worse.”

“Worse?”

You turned toward him, deadpan. “You’re FBI. Which means you probably know every loophole in the legal system. You could absolutely commit crimes and get away with it.”

Hotch let out a laugh, shaking his head. “And yet here I am, still just giving you a ride home.”

You placed a hand over your heart. “I appreciate that. Really.”

He smiled, his fingers still drumming lightly against the steering wheel. Another moment of silence passed before he nodded toward your building. “You should go before your neighbours start wondering why you’re sitting in a car with a strange man.”

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest. “How dare you? We’re engaged, remember?”

Hotch chuckled. “Not anymore.”

You clicked your tongue, reaching for the door handle again. “Shame. I was really looking forward to planning the wedding.”

“We’d have to agree on a season first. You hate the snow.”

You groaned. “I knew that was going to come back to haunt me.” Shaking your head, you pushed the door open and stepped out, turning back one last time before shutting it. “Well, Aaron Hotchner, thank you for entertaining my craziness.”

“Anytime.”

You gave him a small wave before shutting the door and making your way toward your apartment building. At the top of the steps, you hesitated, glancing back just in time to see his taillights disappearing down the street. And in that moment, you weren’t sure what you felt.

Was he someone you’d spend the rest of your life hoping never to run into again?

Or someone you’d regret not giving your number to?

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #Spotify #aaron hotchner x reader #mine🌟

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y0urfav0r1te-girl · 3 months ago

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Hello I'm Lexi !!!

Some music I like includes : Lana del Rey, Marina and the diamonds, Sky Ferreira , Halsey , Taylor Swift, the pretty reckless, Ethel Cain, Florence+ the machine, kerli, Nicole dollanganger, Lorde, Melanie Martinez, arctic monkeys, hole , no doubt ,mazzy star, Nirvana, mars Argo, Lady Gaga, ke$ha , Gwen Stefani, Katy Perry, Sabrina Carpenter, chappell roan, Charlie XCX, carly rae jepsen, Nicki Minaj ,Britney Spears, the Veronicas, Ariana grande, Hannah Montana, Hilary Duff, Rhianna ,she and him , Fleetwood Mac,Fiona apple, Avril Lavigne, Paramore, new years day , evanescence, my chemical romance,green day, silverstein , millionaires, fall out boy, Pierce the veil, breathe Carolina (and A LOT MORE !!!)

Some media I enjoy is : American horror story, scream queens, skins UK, gossip girl , new girl , pretty little liars, girl interrupted, black swan , NANA, sailor moon, the Virgin suicides, twilight , Jennifer's body, monster high (I collect).(I like a lot of 2000s / early 2010s media especially girly media.)

Some aesthetics I like/ have been include: 2014 Tumblr girl, twee, Tumblr grunge, girl blogger core, vintage aesthetics, coquette, pastel, hipster, emo / scene, skater, and a LOT MORE!!!

Alt account that I don't use : @light-me-up-lexi

I would describe myself as : just a girl who is overall pretty normal but occasionally sad and posts about it I'm overall very kind I just face heartbreak a lot I LOVE MY GIRL MUTUALS !!! and keep in mind I do post about disliking men / having a resentment towards them because they have not treated me the best in life however that never includes my male mutuals you guys are sweet

This blog is a safe space except if ur a creep no DNI I block people who dislike me tho!!!

Signing off bang bang kiss kiss !!!

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streetkid-named-desire · 2 months ago

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Slightly Darker Vanilla Hair Colors

It's here!!! Five hours to make the mod and like 20 billion to organize everything and then to get the mod page together. These are what they say on the tin, slightly darker versions of the 35 vanilla hair colors. Pretty open perms so feel free to yoink the .hp and make further tweaks, use it in your NPVs, NPC+, etc. Have fun! Let me know what you think!

ALSO there is an all in one file AND a file with all of them packed as individual mods if you want to just pick and choose.

KBad Brown: Kassidy "KBad" Shelby by @medtech-mara

Vitoria Blonde: Vitoria V. Vasquez by @mirandaputsherbestbuttforward

Nate Red: Nate "Rat" Flick by me

Ginger Mary: Mary Cooper by @corpo-cunt-couture

Guerra Turquoise: Vincent "V" Guerra aka VG by me

Ronnie Black: Veronica "Ronnie" Oliveira by @byberbunk2069

Gold Elise: Elise Carlton by @clockworkvenus

Nysha Blonde: Nysha de Thayme by MyNameIsSpirits

Panthera Blue: Mara "Panthera" Sterling by @medtech-mara

Valentine Brown: "Heart-Thief" Valentine by @merge-conflict

Bad Apple Brian: Brian Buchan @byberbunk2069

Rabbit Gray: Joseph Michael Clarke, aka Bunny or Rabbit by @dustymagpie

Vermilion: Valerie Vermilion by @wanderingaldecaldo

Viridian Teal: Viridian Miller by @theviridianbunny

Charli Pink: Charli Axel by @theviridianbunny

Rasmus Rose: Rasmus Sundburg by @theviridianbunny

Mayumi Blue: Mayumi "Blue" Kayoh by @sorryiliketoscreenshot

Valverde Blue-Red: Valery M. Rodríguez Valverde by @bloodydragam

Asena White: Asena Ward by MyNameIsSpirits

Risa Yellow: Risa Satoya by @sweetmage

Via Green: Livia "Via" Kohl by @ctrl-altiera-delete

Vanessa Lilac: Vanessa McClendon by @corpo-cunt-couture

Travis Aqua: Travis Murphy by @wanderingaldecaldo

Elroy Purple: Elroy Vincennes by @olath124

Cain Gray: Cain Burov by @dustymagpie

Violet Green: Violet Wright-Vincennes by @olath124

Veil Brown: VE1L by @byberbunk2069

SIF Sky: SIF by @pvthfinder

Parvaneh Yellow: Parvaneh Behzadi by @sweetmage

Love Purple: Love Duczyńska by @postmortemvp

Batsheva Green: Batsheva "Bea" Cohen by me

Rose Lilac: Valerie Rose Barrere by @baublekute

Viper Orange: Valerie "V" Scene, aka Viper aka VS by @totentnz

Rigel Purple Blonde: Rigel by @pvthfinder

Hilary Rose: Hilary Navarro by @wanderingaldecaldo

Thank you to many of the above for taking preview pics but also thank you to:

@imaginarycyberpunk2023 | @gloryride | @no-more-kills-vp | @amonvp

For letting me borrow your beautiful OCs' faces for a day at the salon.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 moding #modding #my mods #mods i made #i dont remember what the tag was

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baby-steps-bindery · 7 months ago

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iconoclasts by rowanisawriter

AUTHOR COPY HAS SAFELY ARRIVED🙏🔥🔥🔥

which means I can finally share my bind!

Another classic book look! Which was perfect for this bind especially, on account of its themes of sacrilege, blasphemy, and doubt.

The cover art is “Saint Veronica with the Veil” by Mattia Preti. When I saw it, I knew it was The One—it made me think of Mira looking up fearfully in face of Mystra’s perceived wrath.

(I wish I could’ve included the blood-stained cloth shaped in Jesus’s face, but you win some, you lose some.)

As for the typeset, here it is:

I’m so proud of it—I think it’s the best typeset I’ve done so far!

All the chapter images are from the public domain, by French artist, Maurice Denis. Each were carefully selected to suit each story. I’m especially a fan of the art I chose for heretic’s Act I and Act III.

Now, the dust flaps:

Fun fact: the “follow Rowan on tumblr” section is inspired by Megan Whalen Turner, since on the edition I have of her book only lists tumblr as her social media which is so iconic🤣💖

Thank you @rowanisawriter for letting me typeset this, but also for writing this series, thereby dragging me into BG3 fandom and allowing me to meet all my new friends! Will always be grateful for that💖

With love,

Emi xoxo

#bg3 #gale x tav #baby steps bindery #bookbinding #rowanisawriter

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sengardet · 1 year ago

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🧙‍♀️⚡🫀Veronica's Downfall (Magical electro+ heart torment.)

Veronica leaned against the cave wall, breathing heavily after a long day of battles. The flickering light of her campfire cast mysterious shadows on the rocky walls. "A decent shelter for the night," she muttered to herself, beginning to set a protective ward around the perimeter.

Veronica's ward shimmered faintly at the cave entrance as she laid down and closed her eyes, her breaths deep and even. The subtle glow illuminated her athletic, toned body sprawled on the bedroll. Blonde hair fanned out around her features.

Veronica's steady breathing echoed through the cave as she slept, golden hair spilling across her bedroll, her muscular form still and serene in slumber.

Yanil approached her meditation cave, eager for quiet solitude. But as she neared the entrance, an unnatural glow emanated from within - a shimmering veil of light blocked her. Someone had dared to intrude upon her sacred space!

wearing a bright grin, Yanil placed a pale hand on the luminous barrier. It crackled and sparked at her touch. "How adorable, they think this will keep me out."

She took a step back and closed her eyes, focusing inward. Tingling energy surged through her slender form. In a flash, her body transformed into pure electricity. The crackling blue current that was Yanil flowed forward, probing the rocky walls for gaps and fissures. Finding a narrow crack, she poured herself through, slipping past the magical seal like water through a sieve.

Yanil slipped inside like an electric shadow, her lithe frame materializing from sparks and flickers. A wicked grin spread across her pale face as she crept towards the sleeping warrior. Veronica's powerful essence called to her, enticing and invigorating.

The witch licked her lips, drinking in the sight of Veronica's toned body, the raw strength evident even in rest. She knelt beside the slumbering woman. Delicate yet dangerous fingertips hovering just above soft and inviting skin that covered a mighty vitality.

"You'll make a lovely little pet" she whispered. Yanil wrapped her slender arms around Veronica, pressing her body against the warrior's, waking the woman. As Veronica felt something amiss, Yanil could feel Veronica's mighty heart pounding through layers of taut muscle. The strong woman's chest rose and fell with each deep breath, her body pulsing with vigorous life.

Yanil shivered... she had never felt a heartbeat so strong, so full of raw vitality. It made her petite body quake as it punched into her frame.

Veronica's eyes met Yanil’s.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she growled, twisting to throw Yanil off. But Yanil clung tight, giggling manically.

Blue sparks danced across Yanil's fingertips.

"You're such a heavy sleeper, sweetheart," Yanil said. "I think it’s cute..."

Before Veronica could react, Yanil sent a shock of magic directly into her chest. The warrior cried out, body jerking and spasming as the electric jolt seized her heart. Yanil clung tightly, shuddering in sadistic glee as she felt the mighty muscle writhe and flutter in her embrace.

"Get...off...me..." Veronica gritted out, trying to throw the witch off. But her struggles only excited Yanil more.

Yanil directed another surge into Veronica's flailing body, forcing her pounding heart into agonized submission. The warrior collapsed to her back with a groan.

"Shhh, don't fight it," Yanil said softly, stroking her fingers over Veronica's breastbone as she perched atop the breathless woman’s hips. "Just relax and let me have my fun."

As the warrior’s consciousness waned. Yanil alternated the shocks with forceful chest compressions, sadistically coaxing the organ to pound before subduing it once more with crackling energy. Veronica gasped and convulsed beneath her, back arching, fingers clawing at the ground.

Yanil leaned down, raven hair brushing Veronica's face as she captured her lips in a searing kiss, breathing life into starving lungs. She pulled back and gazed into defiant hazel eyes clouded with pain and terror. Beautiful. “Aww, how’d you lose to a delicate little thing like me?” Yanil said with a menacing smile.

Veronica’s panicked eyes darted around until they landed on her trusty blade. She lunged for her sword, fingers grasping the leather-wrapped hilt. With a warrior's cry, she swung the blade in a deadly arc towards the witch.

But Yanil was too quick. The witch seized Veronica's wrist in a delicate grip, sending jolts of crackling energy surging through the warrior woman's arm. Veronica convulsed as sparks danced across her skin. Her fingers spasmed open and the sword clattered to the stone floor.

"Tsk tsk, naughty girl," Yanil purred, her black lips curving in a wicked smile. "You'll need to be punished dearly for that."

Delicate fingers, alive with sparks, slid across Veronica's collarbone and down between her heaving breasts. Yanil's touch passed through skin like a ghost, burying deep in Veronica's chest. The warrior gasped as those slender digits wrapped around her frantically beating heart and began to explore.

"Mmm, how cute it really is, so warm and feisty…" Yanil murmured, breath hot against Veronica's ear. "I can feel every throb, every quiver." Her fingers mapped the pulsing contours, delicately yielding to its vigorous pulse as it pinned her hand to the woman’s sternum.

“Now for your punishment.” Yanil sent a sharp jolt of electricity surging into the quivering organ and squeezed. Veronica let out an agonized scream as her mighty heart spasmed violently before wiggling like jello in Yanil's grasp. Her athletic frame writhed, losing strength quickly.

"Oopsie, I think I overdid it a bit," Yanil giggled as the once powerful organ fell limp and still. She gave the pliant ventricles a patronizing little shake. "Wakey wakey!"

"Please... mercy..." Veronica whimpered with the air left in her lungs, eyes wide with fear.

Yanil smirked, reveling in the once proud warrior's pathetic begging. She leaned in close, ebony hair brushing Veronica's cheek as she breathed into her captive's quivering lungs and squeezed her flailing life. Veronica's body shuddered in a mix of revulsion and desperation as she fought for control of her fluttering diaphragm. “No…” Yanil said with a smile.

Yanil pressed her fingers into Veronica's quivering heart, feeling the muscle twitch beneath her fingers. A thrill pulsed through Yanil's body at the touch, her own heart jerking her around in the excitement. She began to squeeze and massage the heart, coaxing it back to life, keeping the woman in the twilight of consciousness.

A moan escaped Yanil's lips as the heart spasmed in her grip. "Come on, cutie. Let's get that blood pumping again," she said. Her delicate fingers rhythmically compressed the thick, meaty organ, forcing it to contract and relax. Veronica's body jolted with each pulse as the witch forced blood through her veins.

Yanil dragged her fingertips across the heart's slick surface, sending tiny electric shocks into the sensitive cardiac muscle. It quivered and clenched erratically under her touch. She pressed her palm firmly against it, savoring the sensation of its strengthening beat against her skin.

"That's it, fight for me," Yanil whispered sultrily. She continued her sensual cardiac massage, squeezing and caressing, until she felt a steady pulse in its form. As the heart gained feeble rhythm, Yanil traced a finger along a bulging artery, applying pressure, making the struggling organ strain and throb against the restriction.

Despite the torturous ministrations, Veronica's stubborn heart found its natural rhythm, pumping defiantly of its own accord between Yanil's cruel compressions.

#dark cardiophilia #ryona #heart torture #heart shocking #heart squeezing

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everythingisawayoflife · 6 months ago

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Neil's Death & The Symbolism Within - An Essay

OKAY LIKE A FEW PEOPLE SAID I SHOULD SO LET ME TALK ABOUT THIS, its gonna sound like nonsense. this is a repost so it gets more visibility! Trigger Warning for discussions of Suicide, Self-Harm, Mental Health. Please read at caution cause I discuss a lot of sensitive stuff here.

So my scene analysis paper was exactly as it sounds, we watch a movie of our choice, and analyze it from our textbook, America on Film: 3rd edition. I chose Dead Poets bc it had been a minute since I’ve seen it and I also have seen it enough times to be able to analyze it. So I chose Neil’s suicide. a very chilling scene that when broken down, says a lot, for saying very little. so first lets get into the biblical allegory.

When we first see Neil, he opens his window and slowly puts his Puck crown on his head, like so:

This combines two major elements of the main biblical parallels at play: The Agony in the Garden and one of the major Instruments of the Passion, The Crown of Thorns. For those who have not grown up around Christianity/don't pay attention to it, here are some brief yet thorough definitions of the terms I just threw around:

Agony in the Garden: The night Jesus and his disciples spend in the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus spends the entire night praying and wrestling with his inevitable crucifixion. Some scriptures add that he was sweating blood during this but it depends on which translation you read. The Agony really shows Jesus' human side and can best be seen in the musical Jesus Christ Superstar's most pivotal number, Gethsemane, which I've linked here.

The Passion: A collective name for the events leading up to Jesus' crucifixion. Essentially all of what Easter is. Passion's archaic definition is suffering.

The Instruments of the Passion: Notable relics and icons from the Passion. These include the Crown of Thorns, the cross itself, Holy Lance, Veil of Veronica, and more.

Anyway, the entire first part of the scene shows Neil, who moves slowly and deliberately. No one else in the entire house is awake and he has become one with nature, by opening his window and feeling the winter breeze. Neil bows his head, presumably IN PRAYER, before we cut to the next part. While Christianity has become decentralized in households across America, it was still very crucial in 1950s America, especially in WASP-y domains. So, it would be correct to assume Neil's family is Christian, especially of how Welton is structured (i.e. the main meeting hall is basically a chapel, they sing hymns, etc.).

Jesus Christ was crowned with thorns as a way of mocking him. He was put on trial because according to the Romans, he claimed to be a God, which because the Romans adhered to their set pantheon, it was considered sacrilege and blasphemy. Jesus only ever responded (again, depending on the translation), "You say that I am." So they wanted to mock his authority and placed that crown on his head. Neil is essentially mocking his own authority because the entire movie he has tried and failed to have authority over his own life. His father continuously shoots him down and refuses to listen until the final break when he tells Neil he is sending him to military school. For Neil, he believes it was foolish to think he could even persuade his father just a tiny bit. He expresses this from the moment we first meet Mr. Perry to the final argument.

Where Jesus wears a crown of thorns, Neil's crown is woven with what appears to be fruits and maybe flowers. Flowers and fruit have had sensitive and romantic connotations throughout all of history and are often represented in classic art and literature. Neil is making this sacrifice in the name of art. If you notice throughout the entire movie, anytime death is mentioned, the camera is focused on Neil. It is brilliant subtle foreshadowing and it eats me alive every time it happens. Neil knows what he is about to do. Robert Sean Leonard played this scene beautifully and I so badly want to discuss all of this with him.

Continuing on, we watch Neil make a silent descent down the stairs and he is entirely shadowed. This gives the audience the implication that we already see a ghost:

Neil needed theater like he needed breathing and when theater was taken away from him, his life force was gone. The whole of Neil already died. We see this resignation with his final line:

"I was good. I was really good."

Neil already views himself as dead. He speaks of himself in the past tense. So Neil walking silently through his house as if he were already a ghost is so haunting. I mentioned earlier that Neil knows what he is doing. In Christianity, suicide is considered a sin. We see this in The Divine Comedy, an Italian narrative written by author Dante Alighieri in the 1300s CE. In the first and most famous section, Inferno, when Dante and Virgil arrive in the Seventh Circle and come across those who have committed suicide where they have been turned into trees. The only exception to this is Judas Iscariot, who is being feasted on by a three-headed Satan. Now again, Judas dies two different ways depending on which biblical translation you read but typically the narrative is this:

Judas turns Jesus into the Sanhedrin for 30 pieces of silver and when he discovers Jesus is to be crucified, Judas hangs himself.

In Biblical times, despite suicide being marked as a sin, in Judas' case, because he wanted redemption from his bad act, it was viewed as an acceptable death. So for Neil, this suicide is a redemption for betraying his father. A small parallel, maybe even a bit of stretch, but it is there for me nonetheless.

Back to Jesus, Neil's descent down the stairs also parallels to the walk along the Via Dolorosa or the Way of Suffering. It is the path Jesus walked to his crucifixion, a long and arduous journey. The walk is about 2,000 ft (600 Meters in Metric) yet this is a man who has been beaten, starved, tortured, who was also tasked with carrying his own large wooden cross, and Neil has his own cross to bear: The emotional weight of what he is about to do. It was a slow and painful walk for Jesus and its a slow and painful walk for Neil. Skipping ahead, Neil finally arrives to his destination. The choice to do it in his father's office was absolutely on purpose. Neil comes back to the spot he emotionally died, the moment he lost everything. We get just a brief bit of hesitation for Neil. He fiddles with the key to his father's desk. He holds it gingerly and turns it over in his fingers a few times before reaching down to unlock the drawer with the gun. This goes back to the Agony in the Garden, which again, is best expressed in Jesus Christ Superstar's Gethsemane:

Why I should die?

Eventually, Jesus resigns himself to die:

Alright, I'll die! Just watch me die! See how I die!

Neil does not go silently. I don't know if I'm hallucinating or have really keen hearing, but I swear you can hear the tail end of the gunshot simultaneously as the dirge-like music cuts and Mr. Perry gasps awake. I might just be making that up but I don't know tbh. But anyway, while Jesus resigns himself, the following lyrics express frustration with God and the life that was already planned for him when he has a selfish sense to live. This song and musical really delve into the debate of how much human and God was Jesus Christ and it really opens the door for his human side. He expresses selfishness and a want to abandon his mission. He is hesitant to die. He is hesitant to die painfully. Like I said earlier, Neil hesitates ever so slightly.

Then I was inspired

Now, I'm sad and tired

After all I've tried for three years

Cause not only is God, well, y'know, GOD, he is also Jesus' father. A father who had planned out a whole life for his son and while his son goes along with it, he has a desire to live outside of that. Sound familiar? And I really am trying not to be sacrilegious or anything! I grew up in a Christian household but outside of that, theology has always interested me and I've learned to view it from an academic standpoint. As for my beliefs now, I'm still unsure, and I don't think I ever will be sure and I think that's okay. We're getting off topic, so let me get back on track.

The final time we see Neil alive is him sitting at his Dad's desk, gun wrapped in cloth with Neil gripping it:

He looks sure, with maybe just a flicker of sadness. The entire scene Neil has looked serene. And not like the calm kind of serene, the morose kind. Solemn, I think is a better word for it. Neil's soul has died. Neil is about to crucify himself and become a Dead Poet. He has fulfilled the purpose of the poets they read about in the Society. He lived life as full as he could only for it to be cut down so short. That's the tragedy of it: Neil had so much life to live and so much more to contribute to the arts. But Neil's father killed that passion, killed that love. Earlier in the film, Keating recites the Whitman poem, O Me! O Life! In summary, the poem essentially states that life itself is what makes life worth living. It's a question and answer poem. The speaker wonders what about life is worth living when it is full of constant suffering. They get an answer: life itself is. You being here on Earth and having an identity is what makes it worth it. Neil doesn't see that worth anymore. Life without the arts, his friends, Keating, is not worth living for him anymore. I really recommend reading that full poem, linked here, it is so gorgeous despite it being so short. That sweaty-toothed madman had a gift.

I think that's pretty much everything. There have been a MILLION think pieces on Todd and Neil's whole relationship (TLDR: those boys are GAY) so I didn't get into it here, mainly cause I wanted to focus on Neil and the real meat of my rambling, which was the Biblical allegory. I feel like I said a whole bunch of nothing and it might not make sense to me in the morning but it feels good to get it all out. I love this movie and I love Neil and I love Biblical allegory.

I also hope that this post communicates that suicide is not the answer! Please reach out if you have feelings that make you feel unsafe or need someone to lean on. My DMs are always open and I will leave the major crisis hotlines if needed.

988 - Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, call for support

741741 - Crisis Text Line, text TALK to speak to someone for support.

#dead poets society #dead poets in nyc #do i sound a little insane #maybe #just maybe #my barbaric yawp moment i think #neil perry #i love neil and he makes me so sad sometimes

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officeobject · 10 days ago

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Top things to NOT name your non-existent child, as a Hellaverse critic (in no order):

Verosika: While the name may look and sound beautiful AND original, there are plenty of other names out there, and this one is unique enough to merely be associated with the succubi who sexually assaulted Moxxie. Try "Veronica", "Monica", "Violette", "Viola", "Violeta", "Veron", "Vero", "Vevo", or even "Veros".

Loona: Although the spelling is superior and the name is popular, it's an overdone name given to a Roxanne-like edgelord, with longer alternatives like "Lumina", "Leena", "Liona", "Luma", and "Lalana" (yes I went on a baby name website for alternatives).

Beelzebub: A demonic name of an evil character. Alternatives MIGHT be "Bee", but could also be "Eliza", "Bobbert" "Else", "Belianna", or "Belle".

Stella: Although a critic-favorite, Stella is not a good look (name-wise), nor an original name. Alternatives include "Estelle", "Astella", "Auristella", and "Elle".

Stolas: Although a pretty and elegant name, even if you're fine with the demon association, there's the STOLASS association, and alternatives such as "Saulė", "Stol", "Silas", "Sol", or "Lassie".

Angel (Dust): You wouldn't wanna name your kid after a drug nor someone so annoying, whose real name is less known and is "Anthony", so instead of going for some obviously angelic name from a demonic figure, try "Angelica", "Angelico", "Angela", "Angelina", "Angelo", or even "Angelas".

Zestiel: Bad name. "Celestia" is better.

Alastor: Although he is popular with a popular pretty name, his self and demonic connotations might make you search for alternatives. Try "Alastair", "Alas", "Atlas", "Alice", "Malice", "Alison", "Addison", "Allen", "Al", "Alvin" or even "Alaska".

Vaggie: She is named after PP, but if there's still something to like, try "Agatha", "Agnes", "Maggie", "Margherit", "Vanessa", or even "Gia".

Valentino: An obvious name wasted, try another name like "Valentina", "Valentine", "Valerie", "Valentin", "Len", or even "Vale".

Vox: Instead of naming after a fictional cult-leader, try "Wax", "Earwax", "Voxelery", "Voxeleration" "Voxxine", "Voxxinate", "Box", or even "Voxxie".

Velvette: After the Trolls 3 movie and now THIS, maybe you're tired of whatever this name is, so here are alternatives: "Satin", "Cheesecake", "Silk", "Lace", "Paper", "Vel", "Veil", "Polyester", "Cotton", "Denim", or even "Tulle".

Tell me what names YOU want alternatives for, if there are other options on the table for your precious baby, but lately nothing hazbin hitting as helluva lot as hoped, for your little baby miracle!

#names #jokes #hellaverse critical #hellaverse criticism #hellaverse critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #hazbin critical #hazbin criticism #hazbin critique #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #helluva critique #helluva criticism

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infravioletsea · 2 months ago

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Anyways, my bestie and I have been discussing how to cast a Muppets adaptation of Chicago:

Roxie Hart: Miss Piggy This one's a no-brainer. The leading lady, an ambitious aspiring star, a surprising temper, the blonde curls? The "They love me" bit from Roxie's song? Plus, Fred Casely getting porkchopped to death is just so funny to me Velma Kelly: The Human When you look at the difference between the way Zellweger and Zeta-Jones dance the same choreography as their resepctive characters in the closing number, what sticks out is the difference. Where Roxie is extravagant and slightly messy, Velma is far more polished, experienced and precise. A chorus girl and a headlining act. A human and a muppet. I'm not too sure who exactly would play her. Maybe Rachel Zegler, since she's expressed interest before and she's proven to be a good singer and dancer already. Either way, Veronica (Velma's twin) is played by a muppet version of the actress. Billy Flynn: Fozzie Bear Can you picture failed standup veteran Fozzie telling Miss Piggy how he's going to get her acquitted? Can you picture THAT GUY playing the lawyer that's never lost a case? Here's a relentless optimist who's always looking for new ways to deliver old material and never lets anyone get him down. Now he's going to defend a woman who DEFINITELY comitted that murder. Which of course brings me to- Miss Sunshine: Statler and Waldorf The back and forth during We Both Reached for the Gun. The hounding questions as thinly veiled insults. Yelling from the Jurors' bench in the middle of the trial. You see my vision. Mama Morton: Sam the Eagle He keeps the law, and runs a tight ship. He's a shoe-in to play a prison warden, even one that does a cabaret number in a fancy dress (which Sam would also perform, dressed exactly like Queen Latifah was in the '02 movie) Amos Hart: Kermit the Frog Finally he shows up. A big part of this casting choice is my friend doing a cover of Cellophane in his voice. For the face of the Muppets as we know them today, Kermit is a fairly understated guy, and I think he could give a lot of depth to Amos as a character. I especially love the idea of him scrunching his face while Miss Roxie sings Funny Honey about him, and him flailing as he goes on a rant when he realises that she killed Fred.

Fred Casely: I wasn't sure which would work better for this one: a human actor sleeping with and getting murdered by Miss Piggy would be funny. Alternatively, Link Hogthrob. He's a smarmy git. He can play another smarmy git. Katalin Helinszki/The Hungarian: Swedish Chef I just really need to hear this guy explaining how he ended up in jail for murder in "Swedish". Plus a Muppet getting executed is so darkly funny to me for some reason.

The Emcee: Rowlf the Dog Honestly I can't explain this one, it just feels right. The Mayhem are the band still, and Rowlf and Teeth split the songs between them. BONUS: The Murderesses Depending on how faithful the adaptation is, it could go either way. An all-human cast save for Piggy and Chef would work if the song was kept the exact same. But I do also like the idea of an all-muppet version of Cell Block Tango with new murder methods: Gonzo (stunt gone wrong) Bunsen (his experiments finally finished off poor Beaker) Crazy Harry (self-explanatory) Animal (starts telling the story of how he went on a homicidial rampage before he's promptly dragged back to the orchestra pit by Floyd)

Anyways, there you have it. That's my pitch.

#chicago #the muppets #chicago the musical #muppets

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thearwenschild · 2 months ago

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I could list a lot of weird stuff Catholics do since I grew up as one, but it turns out that there are some things that I thought were normal on a catholic scale but turned out were a local phenomenon.

CW: skeletons, bones, mummified body-parts

May I present to you: Catacomb Saints

Von Richard Mayer - Eigenes Werk, CC BY-SA 3.0, Links

This is the first one I saw as a child on a school trip to a local abbey, and it made a lasting impression. The memory came back up recently, and I went on a deep dive.

One thing catholics love are their saints. If you are from a family who take them really seriously, you even got a gift on the saint day of the one you were named after, and my grandparents still tell me that it was more important than a person's birthday (I always got something small). Churches are pretty serious about their relicts and keep them in richly decorated Reliquaries.

You could guess what would happen when a church got hold of a whole saint skeleton: They decorate it. And turns out, the ones I knew are pretty "basic".

While a lot of them also wear clothing, they are usually covered in gemstones and gold.

Some of them even have reconstructed body parts:

Von Mrilabs - Eigenes Werk, Gemeinfrei, Link Von Andrew Bossi - Eigenes Werk, CC BY-SA 2.5, Link

And of course: Skeletons wearing armor:

Von Dbu - Eigenes Werk, CC BY 2.5, Link

You may ask yourself: why?

Relicts are incredibly important. Even more if they connected to an early Christian martyr. The Catholic Church differentiates between three types:

First-class relicts: The best relicts. These are items directly connected to the life of Jesus. Most popular would be the Shroud of Turin, one of the several Veils of Veronica (Wikipedia lists 4), the Holy Grail or his foreskin (lost but in history claimed to have it often multiple at the same time). The physical remains of a saint, especially martyrs, are also First-Class with. These are often small pieces. Often single bones, hairs. If you are lucky, you get a full limb.

By Andrzej Otrębski - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=54797117

Second-Class relicts are items owned or used by a saint, think clothing (scraps) or crosses

Third-Class relicts are items that came in contact with a first- or second-class relict

And now imagine that your church could house a whole skeleton.

Starting in the 7th century, some churches got the permission to exhume the graves of martyrs. You had to get the permission of a bishop in Rome, and the skeleton came with a certificate of authenticity. Additionally, you had to contact a convent and have them prepare the Relict.

Important: These were (probably) real martyr skeletons.

Then the reformation happened. In the 16th and 17th century, a lot of catholic churches had their relicts (and paintings) stolen and destroyed. After the so-called Iconoclasm died down, the churches needed new relicts and the pope ordered to exhume thousands of remains from the catacombs in Rome. Some of these might belong to martyrs, but if they didn't know the identity of the buried person, they chose a saint and backstory. Most of them ended up in Switzerland, Austria and south Germany. Sale of them was (of course) illegal, but that didn't stop them to charge fees for the transport and decoration.

The trade with relicts was finally banned in 1860 and around this time people started questioning these relicts. Due to this, a lot of them were destroyed or hidden.

But they still exist. They are a bit hard to track down. The ones I saw as a child aren't mentioned on the churches Wikipedia nor on the churches' website. I found a church near me that houses two, but apart from a few articles they are mentioned nowhere. The German Wikipedia page has a list of churches, but after clicking through most of them, only a fraction mention their skeletons. My university library has a book on them that apparently contains a more complete list, and I need to check it out. Another great source is Paul Koudounaris´ Heavenly Bodies: Cult Treasures and Spectacular Saints from the Catacombs, that I need to get since it has a lot of photographs. And I need to visit some churches.

Additional Reading:

#german stuff #crypt saints #catholiscism #christianity #macabre #skeleton art #catholic saints #is this grave robbing?#such a strange concept but as a child i ate it up #there is a church that has 10(!) and I already looked up some train connections

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apaperswan · 9 months ago

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One of my favourite Loustat moments in the whole TVC saga is towards the end of Memnoch The Devil: after his journey through Heaven and Hell in the company of Memnoch, Lestat comes back to earth with one missing eye and Veronica's veil folded to his chest. Traumatised and afraid, whilst trying to process what he's been through he inadvertently kickstarts a new coming of Christ.

Towards the end, back in New Orleans, for fear of him losing his cool and ruin this new weird Christian cult, Maharet imprisons Lestat for a while, hoping that he will calm down. Louis pays him a visit:

"One night Louis came, with the quiet ease of a chaplain into a jail, immune to the rules yet presenting no threat to them.

Slowly, he sat down beside me and folded his legs, and looked off as though it was not polite to stare at me, the prisoner, wrapped in chains and rage.

He laid his fingers on my shoulder. His hair had a reasonable and fashionable look to it—that is, it was clipped and combed and not full of dust. His clothes were clean and new, too, as if he had perhaps dressed for me.

I smiled to myself at that, his dressing for me. But from time to time he did, and when I saw that the shirt had antique buttons of gold and pearl, I knew that he had, and I accepted that the way a sick man accepts a cool cloth on his forehead.

His fingers pressed me just a little harder, and I liked this too. But I didn't have the slightest interest in saying so.

"I've been reading Wynken's books," he said. "You know, I picked them up. I went back for them. We'd left them in the chapel." And now, he did glance at me very respectfully and simply.

"Oh, thank you for that," I said. "I dropped the books in the dark. I dropped them when I reached for the eye, or did she take my hand?

Whatever, I let the sacks fall with the books. I can't budge these chains. I can't move."

"I've taken the books home to our place in the Rue Royale. They're there, like so many jewels strewn out for us to gaze at."

"Yes. Have you looked at the tiny pictures, I mean, really looked?" I asked. "I've never really looked. I just ... it was all happening so quickly, and I didn't really open the books. But if you could have seen his ghost in the bar and heard the way he described them."

"They are glorious. They are magnificent. You will love them. You have years of pleasure ahead with them and the light at your side. I've only begun to look at them and to read. With a magnifying glass. But you won't need the glass. Your eyes are stronger than mine."

"We can read them perhaps . .. you and I... together."

"Yes ... all his twelve books," he said. He talked softly of many miraculous little images, of tiny humans, and beasts and flowers, and the lion lying down with the lamb.

I closed my eyes. I was grateful. I was content. He knew I didn't want to talk anymore.

"I'll be down there, in our rooms," he said, "waiting for you. They can't keep you here much longer."

What is longer?"

Also, since Lestat is held prisoner in a church, this came to mind literally immediately.

#memnoch the devil #the vampire chronicles #loustat #lestat x louis #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #books #tvc #anne rice #jacob anderson #sam reid #jam reiderson #otp #my otp #my otp forever

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sacredcyber · 4 months ago

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Galatea, My Pale Lover

SilverV angsty romance, 88,000 k (so far), Corpo background fem V.

This is the beginning of the end.

V awoke some time after plugging into Mikoshi. There was nothing but a quiet walk towards that massive black void. Nothing but the view of a large glowing column at the peak of a glittering neon obelisk. Something that seemed malformed and strangely final, a monument to her demise in the wasteland before the Blackwall. The singular golden column and her. A mass of red spectral ephemera, vaguely taking on the form of a lithe woman. “Have you made your decision?” her voice sounds like tv static, its electricity hums through V’s ears and floats away into nothing. V had made her final summit here. She clawed, shot and dragged her near lifeless corpse through the halls of Arasaka to get to this exact spot. Now that she made it, a lingering sense of hesitation veils her. She peers over the black pixelated void and wonders what would happen if she jumped. Where would she go? Is there such a thing as death in the digital beyond?

Suddenly the feel of cool metal has found its way into her palm, a voice lingers from behind. “What the hell are you doin’?” V turns to face its source. Johnny’s face normally scrunched in a scowl looks perturbed. He slowly pulls her away from the ledge. “Come on, let’s get you back home.” V studies him as he walks her back towards a small black basin. His hand in hers. He’s kept his word and leads her towards what he’s promised, yet-

“Thought you’d be happy, finally getting rid of me.” His voice breaks through her thoughts. She sees his shoulders slump a bit, it hurts. She can’t peer into his subconscious any more, it’s agony not knowing his every thought. Only here at the edge of the Blackwall are they two separate entities. “Why would you even say that?” her voice comes out small, it’s unnatural. Johnny shrugs, “Was all you talked about to people, remember? ‘I’m dyin’! I gotta find a cure!’” he scoffs and pulls her forward a bit rougher than he meant to. V stumbles a bit and Johnny maneuvers her towards the basin, “Well, princess guess you got your wish.” His ganic hand points towards the singular entryway between the land of the living and purgatory. V peers over the edge of the strange well, nothing but a black sparkling void. The lack of reflection makes her feel incredibly uneasy.

“I’m...I’m not going.” She trips over her words. V watches as Johnny sighs and removes his sunglasses, he rubs his face and inhales deeply. “Like hell you are. We didn’t come all this way for you to change your fuckin mind, V.” He quickly slides his aviators back on his face, “You’re going back, and I’m staying here, that was the plan.” V looks at the basin, then her eyes shift back to Johnny, “No.” She whispers, V takes a step forward, “Johnny, come on-”

“NO! Jesus fucking Christ Veronica! Stop making this hard...” his voice dies a bit at the end. Johnny paces a bit, his psyche summoning a lit cigarette, he takes a drag and V observes the digital swirl of cigarette smoke waft around them. Johnny sits at the edge of the basin, his head in his hands, he looks up and removes his sunglasses, his eyes looking everywhere else but her. “I told you I’d give my life for yours...I made a promise to you V, That I’d do right by you.” He shakes a bit as V steps forward, she stands between his legs.

“Do you really think this is doing right by me?”

She makes sure not to make any sudden movements, like approaching a fawn. Her hands carefully find their way on the sides of his face. She gently lifts his chin a bit, his eyes still looking though her. “Why won’t you look at me?” His gaze is steadfast, “Can’t, hurts too much.”

“Fuck Johnny, answer me, You really think this is doing right by me…or you?” She searches his eyes for a sign of surrender, he simply closes them and places the cigarette back between his lips. “Doesn’t matter, I know it’s right.” he finally relents a bit and gives her a glance, her pleading eyes and look of dread make him want to give in.

But he can’t, and he won’t.

“So...it doesn’t matter, how I feel, how YOU feel. None of that matters.” Her voice quavers, He can tell she’s trying not to lose it. She used to shake something fierce when she’d get angry, her shakes would hurt so fucking much, Johnny could feel it in his non existent muscles, they would ache from the tension. He extinguishes his cigarette and pulls her into him. His grip is so tight he could swear if he held her tighter he’d go right back inside her, he’d live there, her ribs would be prison bars he’d gladly live behind. V immediately presses herself into him further, desperately trying to bring him back. They sit there for a bit in silence, nothing but the faint sound of static can be heard around them. Johnny slowly tangles his ganic fingers through her black hair and moves his lips to hover over her ear.

“I have fucked everything up in my life Ronnie. Everything, everyone.” He whispers. “I refuse to fuck you up anymore.” Warm tears pool at her eyes as Johnny places a kiss on the crown of her head. “I’m already fucked up Johnny, you know that.” V moves her hands through his tangled locks, they feel so real here in cyberspace. “Please don’t leave me alone.” She chokes out a sob and mumbles out a string of ‘I’m sorries.’ Why she’s apologizing, he doesn't know. All he knows is that every minute that passes is one more that’s making it harder to say goodbye. “Baby, please-” Suddenly, the familiar sound of bytes materializing signals Alt’s approach. “Have you both come to an agreement? Who will take the body?” her detached AI persona has no emotional involvement, her tone signified that as much.

V turns and faces Alt. Her red glowing body glitches slightly, her arms raise in that strange way and fall to her sides. “Alt...what would you do?” she naively asks the AI. Alt cocks her head a bit.

“I do not understand.” Johnny sighs, “Come on V.”

V steps closer to the glowing entity, her hand reaches forward a bit and Alt flinches in repulsion.

“I know you’re in there, Alt.”

“She is not here, I only contro-”

“I know. You control her body, like a digital meat puppet...” V swallows, “There’s gotta be a part of her in there. Please. I wanna talk to her.” Johnny stands, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Johnny please! Let me just do this” She pleads. “I promise...one question and I promise I’ll leave...just give me a second.” her voice is on the edge of tears. V’s gaze is resolute on Alt. She walks closer and Alt backs up a bit. “Please, please let me talk to her.” The AI stutters a bit, “I...do not understand why you would want to.”

“Because there’s two people who understand what I’m feeling right now, and I can’t get through to one of them.” Her eyes plead with the AI. The air around her takes on a sudden shift, as if gravity became heavier. Alt disappears and suddenly re-materializes in front of Johnny in a flash of red digital pixelation. She’s silent, staring into him as if she’s trying to find her words. Finally she lowers to his eye level “She would like to speak to V.” Johnny looks taken aback. “She’s...here?” The AI nods, “Yes. She will speak to you in due time, but she would like to speak with V first. Stay here.” Johnny stands there, a wash of anxiety overtake him. V wants to comfort him, but any attempt is interrupted by Alt. “Come, She is ready.” the specter motions towards the pyramid stairs towards the golden column. V makes her way towards the light, only looking back occasionally to Johnny as he sits with his head between his hands.

I wrote this a year or so ago, something I'm editing and finishing up, if you want more you can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62538037/chapters/160062517

#johnny silverhand #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk2077 #my fic #silverV #Johnny x female v #silvervweek

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