#this is why I don’t fuck with organized religion

[dhaaruni]

Shut UP Whitney

[quinnfebrey]

it’s really funny that taylor has adopted a reputation for being well-read and book smart because every time she opens her mouth about a real world issue i am forcibly reminded that she stopped going into school after 10th grade (her words), and even then, her formal education was provided by the state of tennessee.

because… what?

to frame patriarchy as this inherent thing that has ALWAYS existed and is as naturally occurring as a blue sky, is just not true. and to frame capitalism as this thing that is inherent is also just… not true. i could never unpack in just a post why those claims are ahistorical, but i will say that it is fucking nuts to look at an issue of capitalism and say “yeah it’s a problem, but, well, i’m just going to win at it 🤩” and call it feminism.

and that is the problem with white feminism. it just turns into idiots trying to speak on single topics and cherry pick their agendas, even though, in a sociopolitical or socioeconomic sense, it doesn’t work like that. you cannot talk about feminism without discussing western society, organized religion, global superpowers, communities of color, colonization, climate change, corporations, monopolies and more. anything less is useless at best and misleading at worst.

(because when you don’t, you get brain dead hot takes like “patriarchy has existed since the dawn of time, and so has money!”)

it’s like how greta thunberg said that she started as just a climate change activist, but now she’s basically a total anti-capitalist advocating for a complete disruption and overthrow to the way the world currently runs because she realized that advocating for that and advocating for climate justice are one and the same.

and if you criticize taylor swift for talking out of her ass, you’ll be hit with brainwashed swifties throwing out the word “misogyny” or “you’d never ask another celebrity this” or “you’re holding her to her own standards” because they’ve been hearing taylor’s bullshit feminism for so long that now they’ve adopted it as their own

taylor’s feminism will NEVER surpass the self-serving role it fills in her life because to do so would mean confronting the bigotry she has upheld, the questionable people she spends her time with, the wealth she is hoarding, her impact on the environment, and much more.

which is… fine, i guess. she doesn’t have to be a good feminist. but in that case she needs to pick a side and shut her fucking mouth about it. because letting her romp around spewing out the most egocentric and individualistic interpretations of it is boring and unhelpful.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Intolerance, toxic religion, parental relationship, Jungkook taking off his clothes 😮‍💨🤲 very dumb reader.

A/N: This is my first fanfic on Tumblr and my first BTS one. I know, it's embarrassing. The story isn't that great, and it probably shouldn't be the first one I post here, but the characters took on a life of their own without my consent, and I've been writing this since 2022 (fuck), so here we are. Please keep in mind that English is not my first language and that the reader is extremely annoying. See you on the next chapter! Thank You.

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

I organize the things from the bazaar as I go through the accessories spread out on the table. It's a calm easy task and I've done it more than a thousand times, so even with my eyes closed the job is done masterfully. My mother is next to me, quietly, listening to music on an old radio that she refuses to throw away. It seems that, since it's a radio she got as a teenager, the object has a deep meaning for her and she doesn't even like the thought of exchanging it for something more modern. I hum along too, trying to tune my voice in some parts where the music gets harder and the notes get higher.

Usually on the weekends, every Sunday, my mother and I go to church and the bazaar after the service, to raise money and help the pastor's project. Pastor Leen is a good man and always helps everyone in need, so this semester, during these last months of the year, he has been focusing on the animals that live on the streets. Everyone in the community who goes to church participates and helps in whatever way they can, whether through donations or fundraising, like my mother and I do. That’s why we gathered some clothes and items for the church bazaar, and with the sales, we can do our part. It's exhausting, but rewarding in the end.

During the week, I study at the university in my town and work at the library, so there's not much time for rest, but I like having a busy life. Although I know that, for some people, my idea of a busy life might not seem busy at all. At twenty-one, I’m supposedly supposed to be somewhere else in the world, enjoying my youth and partying with my friends, but strangely, I never wanted that. Whether it’s because of my mother, who always instructed me not to follow that path, or because I’m just introverted, I’ve never gone to parties or had adventures that I could look back on later. The most out-of-the-ordinary thing I've ever done was drink beer when I was eighteen and regret it the next day, feeling guilty for being influenced by a friend.

I’ve never left this town. I’ve never dated. I’ve never been to a party. I haven’t done many memorable things in life. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll regret not having these experiences someday, but I’m so tied to the way I live my life that it’s hard to change, even just a little. Habits are hard to break, whether for better or worse. I’m pulled from my thoughts when the store door opens and Mrs. Jeon walks in with a smile on her face and two heavy bags in her hands. I quickly get up intending to help her, but my mother is faster.

“Good morning, Eunji,” Mrs. Jeon greets my mother, letting out a relieved sigh as the weight of one of the bags is lifted from her hands. “Good morning, Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Jeon. How has your week been?” I ask, taking the other bag from her. I peek inside and notice that it’s full of men’s clothes, judging by the size and the predominantly dark colors.

“Radiant, actually. My son arrived in town last night,” she says, her smile widening. I’m surprised because I didn’t know she had a son. Mrs. Jeon moved to town six years ago, and I don’t recall any son visiting her or her mentioning him. This is the first time she’s spoken about it, at least in front of me.

“Your son, Jungkook?” my mother asks, curious, and our neighbor nods, still beaming. “Doesn’t he live in Seoul?”

“Yes, he does. But he’s been expanding his business, and I invited him to visit, and coincidentally, he decided to open a branch here,” she explains, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. My mother instantly flashes a smile. An interested smile that I know all too well.

Of course, because I’ve never dated, my mother is always trying to set me up with someone. Not that I want her to. I never asked her to make all this effort, much less to convince the church ladies to introduce their sons just because I’m single. It’s embarrassing, as if I’m not capable of finding someone on my own without my mother’s help, but she doesn’t listen, even when I had an honest conversation with her asking her to stop trying to play Cupid.

"What kind of business?" my mother asks, and I try not to roll my eyes. For a woman of God, she worries way too much about money and status. It's a controversial topic that has led to arguments between us in the past.

"He's a tattoo artist. He owns a tattoo studio in Seoul," Mrs. Jeon explains with a proud smile, and my mother's face immediately turns serious. The charm of a potential son-in-law is lost. Of course, no one is ever perfect enough for her—or for me, in her eyes.

I love my mother. She’s strong, and many times I look up to her when making important decisions, but she judges people too harshly. Ever since she joined the church when I was younger, she’s changed. She changed her clothes, the way she speaks, and even her thoughts. I can’t even remember what she was like before, and even though all these changes were a support for her after my father passed away, some aspects of the situation still bothers me. The fact that she believes people are going to hell just for having different opinions and ideas is one of them. Of course, I don’t argue with her about it and rarely express my point of view. If she knew how I really thought, I’d be a princess locked in her room, with no peace and even less freedom than I already have at home.

"He's a tattoo artist?" my neighbor nods, not noticing the bitter tone in my mother's voice. I decide to step in, anticipating some sharp comment from the woman beside me.

"Mrs. Jeon, thank you so much for the clothes and for your help. Just today we had three customers, and the clothes you donated sold very quickly," I interject, changing the subject. The tension in my shoulders eases as my neighbor shifts her focus to the bag in my hands.

"Oh, no need to thank me. I want to do as much as I can to help the animals. I adopted a puppy last week and I’m in love!" she says, placing her hands on her cheeks with joy, and I can’t help but smile. Mrs. Jeon is one of the few older people from the church that I enjoy talking to.

"What’s his name?"

"Gureum. He’s an angel," she says, forming the small size of the puppy with her hands.

"Gureum? Don’t tell me he’s all white," I guess, laughing at the name.

"He is!" she laughs with me, jingling the keys in her hand. "Anyway, I hope we get plenty of donations this month. I can't wait to see the results of our work."

"That’s true, Misuk. This month the winter will be harsher, so we have to act more quickly this year," my mother continues, and the conversation shifts to the church project. I feel more relieved as the minutes pass and Mrs. Jeon leaves. Not because of her, of course, but because of the situation itself. My mother is very straightforward and usually says what she thinks, no matter who it hurts. I don’t want my relationship with our neighbor to be ruined just because my mother doesn’t know how to hold her tongue.

"Did you hear what she said?" Eunji asks, her eyes wide, one hand on her chest as if she’s deeply shocked. "Her son is a tattoo artist! Do you think he has those awful marks all over his body?"

"Probably, Mom," I sigh, trying to focus on the clothes Mrs. Jeon just brought. "And Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s our neighbor."

"Even so! Y/N, that only happens when parents don’t know how to properly guide their children. How can a mother, who goes to church, let her son go down such a horrible path in life?"

"We don’t know how her son lives, and it’s none of our business, Mom!" I try to keep calm as I fold a large black T-shirt, but then I remember that before organizing the items, we have to wash them, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

Usually, the clothes are washed at our house, and my mother still has to stay at the bazaar for a while longer. Honestly, I don’t want to be around her listening to how good of a mother she was just because I go to church and don’t have a tattoo on my arm. It irritates me, and it’s hard not to let her notice, but for the sake of peace, I try my best, nodding and agreeing with all the nonsense she says.

"Mom, I’m going to take all these things home and get everything ready for the bazaar, okay?" I try to force a smile, but my face feels stiff. My head is throbbing, and I can’t wait to get home. I’ve been out of my room all day, and there’s nothing more exhausting than that, at least for me. She murmurs in agreement, probably annoyed that she can't keep talking badly about Mrs. Jeon’s son, but I don’t care and just leave.

I regret it a little halfway home because the bags are heavy, and even though the distance isn’t long, it’s hard to carry all the clothes by myself. I arrive home out of breath. The sky is overcast, with dark gray clouds covering it, but I’m sweating as if I just ran a marathon. I laugh a bit at my lack of fitness, promising myself that I’ll start the morning walks I keep putting off, and I head to the laundry room to start organizing the clothes.

When I open the bag, I’m surprised by the items. Not only are they of good quality, but I’m also certain they don’t belong to Mr. Jeon. He dresses well, but not in this style. I can hardly imagine him wearing black jeans or a heavy jacket. I’m intrigued by who the owner might be, but I don’t waste time pondering it, too tired to unravel mysteries that aren’t even important. I leave the laundry room once everything is organized and head to my room, throwing myself onto the bed.

My room isn’t particularly special or different, but what I love the most about it is the bookshelf filled with books covering almost the entire wall. It was my dream from a young age to get a job and buy every book I was interested in, and luckily, that’s been possible since I started working at the library. It’s the perfect job for me, even if it’s temporary. I’m studying literature to become a teacher, and I can’t wait to start working in my dream job.

I sigh and pull my phone out of my dress pocket, too lazy to take off my clothes and go shower. I groan, placing my hands over my face, knowing there’s no escaping it after being out of the house all day. There’s no way I’m going to bed like this. Reluctantly, I get up and untie my hair, which falls in waves, heavy against my neck.

I bend down to grab the hem of my dress and start pulling it up, feeling even more tired. Today was such a long day. I can’t wait to go to bed and sleep until tomorrow. I take off my socks, lifting one foot behind the other, and as I head to the towel inside the wardrobe next to the bed, I unhook the bra that’s been bothering me all day. The relief is so immense that I let out a sigh, touching my breasts with my fingers and playing with my nipple, hardened by the cold air.

On my way to the bathroom, I stop and look at the window when I notice that the neighbor’s window—the one that had never been opened until now—is, in fact, wide open. I need a few seconds to realize that there’s someone on Mrs. Jeon’s balcony, and worse, it’s not her on the other side. It’s a man. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.

I hide behind the bookshelf in my room, afraid that he might think I’m spying on him, but for some reason, I keep watching him with curiosity, hypnotized by the way he moves around the room and among the furniture. His dark, wavy hair falls over his face when, out of nowhere, he starts pulling his shirt over his back, taking it off lazily while focusing on the phone in his hands. He gives a small smile, almost as if he subconsciously knows the effect he’s having on me. My heart beats hard against my chest, and my breathing quickens; my mind fills with fantasy images of his pink lips and large, seemingly soft hands.

He is... gorgeous. Different. With tattoos all over his body. One of his arms is completely covered in designs, and his chest is adorned with images that I can’t quite make out. My mouth waters as my eyes roam over his strong back and shoulders. His pale skin glows under the dim light of the yellow lamp, and it’s hard to catch my breath. It’s like observing a work of art. A forbidden work of art, I know. It’s wrong. But I can’t convince my mind that I should stop. The man, still a stranger, smiles at his phone as the screen lights up his face. Unlike his body, which exudes sensuality and is intimidating, his smile is sweet and gentle, and the most charming I’ve ever seen. He tosses the phone onto the bed, unbuckling the leather belt around his waist and deftly undoing the buttons of his jeans. That’s when the trance that literally had me delirious breaks. I slam the window shut, desperate at my own madness.

What was I doing? How could I have seen a stranger stripping like a complete pervert? I feel so bad, guilty for having crossed the line and done something as wrong as this. I gulp, covering my face with my hands. I let out a tortured sigh and feel my heart racing uncontrollably. I am sweating, as if I had done a heavy workout, when in fact, I had been standing still the entire time. I peek through the gaps in my window to see the room in Mr. Jeon's house, but I can't see anything anymore and I don't have the courage to open the curtains and try to look at the man again.

It's the first time in many years that I have felt something like this. Could it be desire? I can't remember the last time I felt anything like this. I recall having a small and first crush on a boy at school, something innocent, when I didn't even know what it meant to like someone romantically or as a friend. This was, throughout my life, the only consistent experience in recent years. It scares me that suddenly I feel something different for someone, even if it's minimal. I let out a sigh and cover my face, embarrassed by my own behavior. To make things worse, I'm not even wearing clothes. I rush to the bathroom and close the door, staring at myself in the mirror. I am so dazed that even my cheeks are dark red. I close my eyes tightly and head to the shower, trying to let the water wash away my thoughts. It doesn't work. I spend the whole night gazing at my bedroom window, full of images that I can't forget or erase.

I have a normal day after the almost exhausting night. I study in the morning about different approaches with children on the autism spectrum, which I find completely interesting and complex, and then I work in the afternoon at the college library on campus. This is actually great because I can study even during my work hours with free access to all available books, which has saved my life in recent months. The first semester of classes was tough, but this second one has been terrible, with piled-up assignments and deadlines that are almost impossible to meet, at best. My life has revolved around this routine, and the ordeal of exams hasn't even started. On my way home, I stop at a convenience store to buy something to eat and bike towards my house, which, honestly, isn’t very far but is extremely tiring.

I get home exhausted, collapsing on the sofa almost immediately. My mother appears from the kitchen with a serious face and a tense expression, as if something very grave had happened.

"You won't believe who invited us to dinner." she comments, placing one hand on her hip.

"Who?" I ask, just out of courtesy. Besides not being hungry, I'm not interested in the subject, too stressed with college stuff to pay attention to my mother.

"Misuk."

"And what's the problem, Mom?" I roll my eyes. Until yesterday, my mother had no problem with our neighbor, and now she acts like the woman is forbidden or not good enough to be her friend.

"Did you forget, YN?" she asks, crossing her arms. "Her son, the one from Seoul, will be at the dinner."

I turn pale, my mouth dry. How could I have forgotten this? College has consumed all my thoughts during the day, but I would never forget that man. The man I saw through the window is Mrs. Jeon's son, I suppose. I concluded this after spending the whole night mulling over my thoughts and reliving that body and face, which I can’t even recall without blushing. I’ve already eaten at college and feel satisfied, but the first thing I do when my mother mentions the dinner is smile.

"I’ll go with you." I affirm, unsure. If my heart raced so much from a distance of Mr. Jeon's son, I can't imagine what will happen if I see him up close. But I'm so curious that I can't avoid it. I want to see him. I want to prove that everything I felt last night wasn’t just a product of my imagination tainted by romance novels.

"The truth is, I wanted to cancel the dinner."

"You didn't cancel, did you?" I ask, trying not to sound too desperate. My mother shakes her head, which makes me sigh with relief.

"No, but I'm curious about the guy. I want to see what he's like and make a better judgment about him. I just ask that you don’t get involved with that kind of person. He’s a tattoo artist and lives alone, so young. Who knows what he does alone in a city like Seoul." she says, and I agree with a noise in my throat.

I’m also curious about him, Mom, but not for the same reason as you. I stay silent as I go upstairs to my room. I look for some slightly nicer clothes without much expectation but I don’t have anything different from conservative or old. I feel sad for no reason and convince myself that it doesn’t matter what I choose to wear; a man like the one I saw last night will never be interested in me, no matter what I put on. I quickly shower, then, after my mom calls me from downstairs, I look at myself in the mirror, staring at the dark blue dress that goes down to just below my knees. I roll my eyes and simply go, with little enthusiasm.

My mom has a bowl with a freshly baked cake, and after saying it's for the neighbors, we head out. It’s the house next door, but the short walk feels like an eternity to me. My heart races as we approach, and I let my mom lead the way, walking ahead. She knocks on the door with three taps, and we don’t wait long before Mr. Jeon appears. He’s a man in his fifties, but very handsome and friendly, wearing a long-sleeve shirt and comfortable house slippers. He smiles at both of us, still holding the doorknob and giving us space to enter.

"Good evening, Eunji, good evening, Y/N." he greets us. I nod, a little embarrassed. Unlike Mrs. Jeon, I don’t see him often, as he is very busy with work and doesn’t attend church regularly.

"Good evening, Yejun."

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for having us." I smile, genuinely grateful. I truly like the couple, as every time I see them, they always treat me very well.

"What a polite girl, isn’t she?" he says to my mother in a joking tone, then looks at me kindly. "You don’t need to thank us. We love having you two here. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable."

"I brought a cake for after dinner." my mom says with a smile. "Where is Misuk? I want to give it to her."

"She’s in the kitchen, finishing organizing things. Shall we go there?"

I follow them in silence, having little to do. My mom is more accustomed to the environment, as she comes here a few times for church meetings. I take a few steps toward the kitchen when a noise on the stairs catches my attention. Then he appears, and like magic, everything I felt before resurges, ten thousand times worse. I catch my breath as I see him slowly descending the stairs. He is much taller than me and different from what I imagined, now up close.

His eyes are dark, bright and large, which strangely complements his sharp jawline. His lips are a beautiful pink that makes me run my tongue over my mouth, enchanted by their apparent softness. Pink is now my favorite color. He exudes a powerful aura with his heavy clothes and his body built like a big mountain towering over me, but when he smiles, I am captivated. His smile is sweet, friendly, and inviting, making me want to get closer. However, the thing that catches my attention the most is the eyebrow piercing. My God. What a man.

"Hello, how are you?" he says with a boyish smile, and I blush instantly. I try to maintain a mantra in my mind, repeating several times: calm down, calm down, calm down! "My name is Jungkook, are you my mother’s neighbor?"

"Y-yes." I stammer and almost instinctively close my eyes, frustrated with myself. He smiles even more, squinting his dark eyes as if he finds me amusing.

"Nice to meet you. What’s your name?" he asks with a soft voice, and I feel embarrassed for not having said my name earlier.

"My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you." This time I don’t stammer, but I speak so quietly that I fear he might not have heard me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. My mom talks a lot about you." he says, confirming that yes, he did hear me.

I open my mouth to try to say something, but suddenly my mother appears. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I wanted more chances to talk and discover new things about him, but all I was managing to do was look like an idiot who hasn’t left the house in years, completely antisocial. My shoulders slump, and I follow my mother to the dining room in silence, feeling embarrassed. I can almost feel Jungkook’s presence behind me, but I don’t have the courage to turn around and glimpse his expression. I almost automatically remember him taking off his clothes, showing the tattoos that are now hidden, and I flush even more, almost choking on my own saliva.

"Good evening, Y/N!" Mrs. Jeon smiles at me, already seated at the table. I feel guilty for almost drooling over her son earlier but I smile, greeting her in the same way.

"Good evening, Mrs. Jeon. The smell of the food is delicious, as always." I say, seeing the vegetables on the table and the meat next to it that looks divine. If I hadn’t eaten earlier, I’d be attacking the food, with respect, of course.

"Always so sweet, Y/N." she smiles. "Please, have a seat. Jungkook, sit next to her." she requests. I try to not choke again, just nodding, watching the man I am incredibly attracted to sit to my right side.

His parents and my mom engage in a lively conversation, and I try to pay attention in case they ask me something, but the truth is, I can’t follow along at all. Jungkook eats in silence and occasionally answers my mother’s questions, which I’m sure are meant to gather more material for judgment when we get home, but I can’t follow any of the reasoning. Besides being handsome, polite and kind, he also smells good.

With the clothes he wears and the tattoos decorating his body, I would swear his perfume would be woody and strong, but it’s quite the opposite. His scent reminds me of spring, or nature like a field full of flowers. It’s a scent I could absorb all day. Lost in thought while I play with the fork on my plate and the cabbage kimchi I served myself, I don’t notice him coming closer to me and my ear. My whole body shivers with his breath. I try to not make it too obvious, but I think it’s in vain since I hear his soft laugh even closer to my neck.

"Do you want to go to the kitchen, Y/N?" Jungkook asks in a whisper so close that I look around just to make sure no one is watching, especially my mother, who seems to have already formed a prejudiced opinion about him.

"Why?" I ask in a whisper, confused.

"I want to ask you something." he smiles crookedly, which makes me even more disturbed. I nod, still unsure about what I’m agreeing to. He quickly stands up, and I almost instantly follow him. When we get to the kitchen, he turns around quickly, watching me attentively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"W-what do you want to ask me?" I swallow nervously.

"I was thinking whether I should talk to you about this, but after meeting you tonight, I think it’s for the best, anyway." he says with a serious face. His previously relaxed attitude changes completely, as if all the fun from earlier had drained away.

I become worried, my mind filled with questions, until something occurs to me. What if last night, somehow, he realized I was watching him? My body turns to jelly at the thought, and my heart beats faster as I look at his face. I would die, seriously. I would fall to the ground and never wake up again. My hands tremble as I wait for his question.

"Are you and my mother very close?" he asks in a whisper, this time with a weak voice, looking at his own intertwined hands. I nod in agreement, even more confused. Since Mrs. Jeon moved to my city, we’ve become something like friends, despite the significant age difference. I consider her, even if mistakenly, like a mother.

"Yes. I think we have a close relationship. Why the question?" he shifts uncomfortably. He tries to smile but can’t. I am worried but silent, waiting for his answer.

"My mother is sick, Y/N." he says quietly, with a weak voice. My eyes widen at the news. I never imagined this is what he wanted to talk to me about. From his seriousness, it seems to be something very grave. "That’s why I came to the city. She had depression years ago and last month she tried to take her own life for some reason."

"She didn’t tell anyone, I’m sure." I say as much as I can, still shaken and shocked. Mrs. Jeon seems so happy lately that I could never imagine something like this. My eyes fill with tears, but I try to contain the flood of emotions inside me, embarrassed to act this way with a previously unknown person.

"I know. I was shocked when I found out." he explains, running his fingers through his dark hair as if he were tired. "She wants to spare people from the situation, but I wish everyone could know and support her. She shouldn’t be thinking about anyone’s well-being right now, except her own. That’s why I came to Busan, to take care of her."

"I understand." I whisper with a lump in my throat. I want to take his trembling hands and assure him that everything will be okay, but I don’t have that much courage. I wish I were casual and authentic and had the ease to simply say what I’m thinking. It’s the first time that not being this way makes me upset and sad. I wish I could be someone else right now. I wish I could help more.

"I apologize for bringing this up so suddenly. I hope I haven’t ruined your evening. I’m sorry." he smiles awkwardly, puffing his cheeks, and a previously hidden dimple appears. His face turns red and I can’t help but like him even more.

"Don’t worry. Really. Thank you for telling me the truth. I want to help in any way I can. I'll try to keep her company more often."

"Thank you so much, Y/N." he smiles, with his eyes shining. "I knew it was a good idea to tell you the truth. I knew I could count on you."

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

[pettytiredandjewish]

So uh… to the “pro-Palestine” crowd

- harassing random jews on the streets (and online) isn’t going to help Palestinians

- swarming and blockading college campus buildings (and hospitals) and chanting genocidal slogans at jews isn’t going to help Palestinians

- defacing synagogues and jewish owned stores isn’t going to help Palestinians

- displaying antisemitic signs and waving nazi flags isn’t going to help Palestinians

- chanting for intifada isn’t going to help Palestinians (Hamas would love that though)

- spreading Hamas propaganda isn’t going to help Palestinians

This doesn’t help Palestinians- but it sure does help Hamas who’s goal is to wipe out Israel and all jews. Also Hamas could care less for Palestinians- why do you think they are being used as human shields???

Doing all of these things makes you antisemitic (some of y’all were probably already antisemitic, and is using the I/P conflict to go fully unmasked). You doing this is causing harm to so many people. And to be honest- doing this shit shows that you actually don’t care for Palestine. In fact you are using this conflict to go fully unmask and be raging antisemitic little asshats.

Instead of doing something that could help those who are affected by this war, you are harassing jews, defacing synagogues, and calling for intifadas. Why is that? (I know the answer- but humor me). Why is this acceptable? How does harassing and harming jews help Palestine? And how does supporting Hamas (a terrorist organization) help Palestine?

Also I may get hate for this but I don’t care: anti Zionism is antisemitism. The term anti Zionist was created during the soviet era by one of the soviet leaders. The Soviet Union hated jews and wanted to stamp them all out. One of the ways that they “succeeded” was “persuading” jews that their culture and religion was dirty. That they- the jews should be ashamed of their “Jewishness”. And that was how anti Zionism came to be.

I said what I said. If you don’t like it then maybe you have some thinking to do.

Also as another fucking reminder:

Stop fucking spreading vile antisemitic shit (and stop harassing Israel citizens) !!! This includes:

- blood libels

- organs harvesting

- holocaust denial

- “hitler was right”

- “gas the jews”

- lizard people

- “jews are rats”

- “jews are rich”

- “jews control the media”

- “jews are landlords”

- the majority of conspiracy theories

- Zionist occupied government

- Zionism is racism

- stop fucking reading protocols of the elders of Zion

- “from the river to the sea…” is a genocidal chant.

- stop calling Israel a “terrorist” state and stop saying that all Israelis are terrorist (people are not their fucking government)

(Just to list a few)

I said what I said and if you don’t like it- the doors over there.

Am yisrael chai! ✡️

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

Paring: Harwin Strong x oc

Warnings: Swearing

4.02

Groaning, you push yourself up onto your elbows, squinting your eyes as you take in the surroundings of the unfamiliar room. Since you and Harwin arrived earlier than expected, the royal quarters you usually slept in weren’t prepared.

Understandable.

What wasn’t understandable was the large tapestry of the seven-pointed star hanging on the wall the bed faced. Your blood practically started to boil when you noticed the lack of symbols for House Targaryen and that they had been replaced with the symbols of the Faith of the Seven instead.

Originally you were going to travel with all your children and Harwin’s father; however, Daemon suggested only the two of you go since it would be rather difficult to get underneath the greenskins while looking after five children, which you agreed to at the time. Your children would be safer on Dragonstone, but you felt the absence of not being with them, and not even a day has passed yet. Baelon, who was still feeding from your breast, was the only one who accompanied you on the boat over.

You feel movement in the bed beside you as Harwin turns onto his side to be facing your direction. “My uncle will be furious when he sees what they have done.”

“Daemon is never happy,” Harwin grumbles.

That wasn’t strictly true, but your uncle did complain a lot for a prince. He only cared about three things: his family, the legacy of House Targaryen, and Caraxes. All three things intertwined with one another, which is how you knew he would be furious. “Organized religion and House Targaryen struggle to co-exist. To remove any existence of our house and replace it with only symbols of the faith is a direct insult.”

If Queen Visenya and Maegor the Cruel were still alive, they would either have burned the Hightowers or had their heads placed on spikes.

Giving you a lazy smile, Harwin kisses the palm of your hand. “Might I suggest you get rid of some of this rage before you run into anyone you dislike?”

“Perhaps you are right, dear husband.”

—

“Princess.”

“Ser Erryk, Ser Arryk,” you let out a dramatic sigh. “I thought you would have been old enough to go to bed at a sensible hour, or perhaps I’ve confused you with our nephew.”

Your brother snorts at the comment, although Rhaenyra’s son, who was only a toddler, would probably behave better than Aegon. Your brother was dressed in filthy, oversized clothes, smelled like a brothel, and had a bloodied lip. And could barely stand up straight. You didn’t care if Aegon spent his nights fucking his way through the streets of silk, but Alicent would most definitely not be impressed. Even though he was a man grown with children of his own, you still wanted to shield him from… his own family.

“You should get cleaned up, brother; the queen will be furious if she sees you in such a state.”

“Don’t pretend you’ve never snuck out,” he scoffs.

The two members of the king's guard look down at the ground. He had a point. But you couldn’t admit it. “I’m going dragon riding before visiting the king; care to join me? You could claim that awful smell is from dragon.”

“Why are you here?”

“To deal with Vemond.”

Aegon scrunches his nose up. “Who the hell is Vemond?”

“A man who has overstepped. He is petitioning for himself to be made heir to Driftmark, but he will be reminded rather quickly that Prince Lucerys is the heir.” When your already festering irritation starts to turn to anger, you change the subject. “I best go so I can be back in time to meet his grace, since I’ve been informed he does not get out of bed until midday. I do hope to meet you in the sky, brother.”

—

Harwin stands in the courtyard of King's Landing, gently bouncing his silver-haired babe in his arms while Vaella and Varos fly overhead. If the greens didn’t know they had arrived during the night, they definitely knew of his wife’s arrival now. “That’s your mother showing off her dragon-riding skills. Varos may not be the biggest, but he is formidable.”

He was glad his wife decided to let off some of her pent-up aggression beforehand. Varos lets out an ear-piercing squeal when another dragon approaches them in the sky, a golden one.

“Sunfyre is a gentle dragon.”

Hearing an unfamiliar voice, Harwin turns to see who’s standing behind him, and to his surprise, it’s Princess Helaena. “Princess,” he greets. “Princess…Jaehaera?”

Helaena smiles at her daughter, who was standing behind her holding her lady's hand. “Jaehaera is just on her way to her lessons. Her brother is already attending his morning one.”

Trying to do the math in his head, Harwin fingers out his youngest sister-in-law; she couldn’t have been older than four and ten when she gave birth to twins. Ada’s thirteenth name day was approaching, and he would never allow her to be married so young.

She was just a child.

“He is very small,” Helena says gently, gesturing to the babe who was now babbling away.

“That he is, but he’ll grow up to be a big lad like his brothers.”

Helaena’s smile suddenly drops, a haunted expression appearing across her face. She mumbles to herself, “You’ll lose one.”

Helaena disappears as quickly as she appeared, walking in the opposite direction with her daughter and handmaidens following closely behind.

When a dark shadow falls over the courtyard, he looks up and sees Vhagar slowly flying over the castle. It has been years since he saw Vhagar last, and the war-hardened dragon was even larger than he remembered. Harwin grits his teeth; the wording he would use to describe the dragon's rider would surely land him in exile.

Harwin suppresses a smirk when he overhears someone mention how Vhagar is the largest dragon alive.

He kisses the crown of his son’s head. “Come on, lad, let’s get you back inside.”

—

Unfortunately, your father isn’t alone when you step onto the balcony just off his royal quarters. Alicent, Aemond, and Otto are sitting at the table close by with their loyal hound Cole standing behind them. From what you gathered so far, your father was left to rot in bed most days, drunk on the milk of the poppy while the Hightowers overstepped and ruled in his place.

Your heart hurts with guilt knowing you could have done more to help prevent your father from being neglected.

“Father,” you smile brightly as you stroll towards him; not even glancing in the greens direction, you kiss him on the cheek before sitting down next to him. “It’s good to see you, my king.”

“Aemma,” he sounds short of breath. “You look just like Aemma.”

God, you missed your mother.

Doing a neck bow, Harwin says, “Your grace.”

Your father motions for him to come join you at the table. Out of respect for the king, Harwin greets Alicent but only offers a stiff nod towards the king's hand and Aemond. He doesn’t even acknowledge Cole.

Harwin places your son into your arms; you proudly introduce him to the king. “Father, this is Baelon.”

“A fine name,” weakly he strokes the babe’s cheek with his bony fingers. “A name fit for a prince indeed. He will no doubt be a great dragon rider like his mother."

“From what Daemon has told us, my sons and nephews strongly resemble my grandmother, Alyssa.”

“But you disagree?”

You nuzzle your nose into Baelon's hair while thinking; he was starting to fuss, which was unusual since he usually settles quickly in your arms. “Not entirely; my boys definitely have the same Targaryen spirit I was told she had, but when I look at Lucerys, I see my mother. He���s gentle like her.”

Jacaerys could match your twins with his fiery energy; even young Joffrey shared their fierceness. All of them were respectful and kind hearted, but Luke possessed a rare gentleness. When you look back up at your father again, you notice his eyes have glazed over; he was focusing on something to his left, but there wasn’t anything there aside from the wall of the castle. The king suddenly turns back to you, looking amused.

“Aemma, Aemma,” he rasps.

You take his hand. “No, Father, it’s Vaella.”

He chuckles to himself. “Aemma, I dreamed the girls had all grown up.”

You turn and look at Alicent, who has a sad expression on her face. Was your father always like this, or was he worse because of the amount of milk of the poppy the maesters forced down his throat? His mind and body weren’t this deteriorated a year ago. It was clear from the green's reaction that it wasn’t uncommon for him to become confused.

Harwin places his hand on your back and whispers, “Milk of the poppy takes days to completely leave the system.”

Alicent clears her throat and stands. “I think the king has exhausted—”

Your father struggles to sit forward in his chair, his eyes squinting as he looks off into the distance. “…Balerion…”

“Balerion has been dead for some time, your grace,” Otto says.

“I was there when my dragon took his last breath. Ser Otto, I remember flying on him as if it were yesterday. The black dread. Scales dark as night, eyes blood red, the largest of his kind alive. I can see him clearly as I did then.”

“His grace is not wrong,” Harwin gets up and walks towards the stone barrier of the balcony. “The dragon keepers are calling her the daughter of Balerion, the black dread come again. Tis Vaegon's dragon, Nightmare.”

“Gods be good,” Otto gasps.

Your jawline clenches. Daemon has been saying for years that Nightmare would be the Black's biggest weapon since the dragon became larger than Vermithor and was almost too large to reside in the dragon mount. Vaegon was not permitted to fly far during the daytime, which he never argued with because during the night he could fly freely.

Keeping a dragon that size a secret forever was impossible, which is why it was agreed that your boys would fly to the red keep together. But yet Nightmare was flying without Ashwing and a day early.

Nightmare might be fearsome, but his rider was only a boy.

[evergreen-femme]

long post and probably schizoposting but i think this is genuinely super interesting.

i don’t think that the nature of religion itself is conservative or even lends itself very well to conservatism.

real religion in history has been an agent of transformation. religion can be seen as an innate force in humans that drives our macro-scale differentiation, indeed acting as a macro-organism in the social sphere of human ecology. religion governs social norms, how we address each other, what we value, what we think of others. it causes us to act as civilizations in a geopolitical religious ecology. this is an emergent property of human society and it does seem to be innate to us. but what if it was not only innate to us and a biological phenomenon, but a signal of something else? that we by chance have evolved to be able to pick up on?

human religion development can be seem as a response to divine stimulus - this is undeniably in us. god is a biological imperative, but what if it were the opposite? if we imagine the big bang as an experiment by a metaphysical entity, life developed that was capable of perceiving the signal that “God” has been sending out perhaps unconsciously from the beginning. well, to me it is “God” since i was raised in a nominally christian culture. if you examine religion’s role in history and current life, its obvious that:

so many people disdain being compared to animals; we innately feel that we are something greater because we can sense the divine. it is an anthropogenic flaw in us to assume that no other living thing can sense the divine. why do spiders make their webs like that and why are they so beautiful for real? that feels like it has to be something more than “we are all biological robots” (one of the founding principles of the religion of Economics, actually). more on that later. the point is the VAST majority of us feel innately that we are more, that we have a drive to find ethics and treat our neighbors kindly and generally to love each other. SOME of us feel that this makes us better than animals and tries to corral inconvenient swaths of humanity into animal-dom so they can concentrate power. a danger for the priestly class at any time in history. (but also the main value of our currant global Church, allowing dark priests to control our entire society for their own enrichment).

most of us are normal. some of us normal people feel the call of the priesthood as well. but they cannot all change the world, or even the perception of their neighbors. sometimes they do, though, sparking true evolutionary moves on the geopolitical ecological paradigm.

(religion is how humans will evolve to become gods, or become one with the divine)

this is the appearance of a “prophet.” we low key need one so fucking bad right now. an eye opens to the divine and begins to preach in a way that everyone adjacent to them suddenly adopts a genuinely new world concept and it spreads like a pandemic. but usually, these developments are positive in some way, ALWAYS seeking to elevate us beyond being mere biological machines.

we have FORGOTTEN true religion, because it always happens like that. our biological nature strikes back. we seek to evolve defenses against this divine antigen. however, for most of is, i believe this antigen is good. we are thirsty for meaning. it drips from everything everyone does.

when religion sparks, or rather, the divine antigen breaks through our biological defenses; you can metaphorically see it as a priest receiving a revelation, eyes and mouth glowing white and spilling light. if it takes over a whole society, if we all agree “this is the good way to live, i love the divine antigen actually,” then a new geopolitical superorganism is born.

the united states and actually all of imperial europe from the 1400s on has not been christian in the way that europe before that was. the religion that actually took over was Economics. our real priestly class has evolved into the financial sector. this has led us astray because Economics is against the nature of the divine antigen. its founding principle is that humans are biological machines, when that isn’t likely true even of most complex animals. or plants, fungi, literally who is to say. divinity cannot be comprehended by material science. that is its fundamental nature. we all know it, it is deeper in us than the Economic indoctrination.

we all want something better than this. we all know we are not biological machines. we are all crying it in tears of blood and sweat.

the mask is now OFF. too many people are being affected by the anti-human, anti-divine, metaphysically evil nature of capitalism (an offshoot of Economics). NOBODY wants to worship money anymore.

attempts to overthrow capitalism from within the religious paradigm of Economics have mostly failed to subdue the metaphysical disease for half a millennium. the end of Economics will come from a genuine religious uprising and worldwide war and chaos, or more likely, cooperative dismantling of the Economics Earth after a mostly bloodless global holy war.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Vergil's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Vergil's Path

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: Fucking finally part 2 hahahaha I deeply apologize for taking so long to post Vergil's part. As some of you might have seen here, my dad suffered an accident and my life turned upside down the last few months - I'm still managing, doing damage control hahaha but slowly getting back on track with my writing.

But here is Vergil's part! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand this madness and, if you're a Dante appreciator, fret not, the red devil part is here.

I have to thank my dear friend @furyeclipse for sending me this idea as an ask a thousand years ago - and now, it is finally done! You can check Fury's work on ao3 right here, I highly recommend it!

I'm also going through a phase of powerful monsters (vampires, demons, the whole unholy pantheon) being on their knees for their human partner and, oh boy, it shows. I'm not apologizing. Oh. And the Helen of Troy/Sparta is NOT a gendered thing. It's more of being recognized as the most beautiful among mortals, enough to cause a war for their love. And yes there's a Ghost reference in there, I FINALLY got to properly listen to their music and man, why did I sleep on them for so long??

Devil May Halloween 2023 - Vergil's Path

Demonic marriages. There was a topic you had to admit you were completely ignorant about.

Vergil had mentioned it once. You did ask him when Sparda’s and Eva’s union arose as a subject in one of your researches one day – for, as far as you knew, marriages were religious and it did make you wander if demons had their own religion or only rituals.

That subject was very muddy, as per Vergil’s words. His own knowledge on the matter was very limited – and that was something new for you.

“Hmmm. A very good question indeed.” Vergil murmured as he put down his book on the table, raising his silvery eyes to you. The library was dead quiet, but his voice was always so low it wasn’t a concern – even if you both were the only living beings in that place at that hour. “You could say some demons are powerful enough to be viewed as gods, but those would be only the likes of Mundus.”

“And Sparda…?” Oh, you had to ask. After all, wasn’t Sparda the only demon strong enough to defeat Mundus? Who could ever defeat a being as powerful as a god? Only a god as well, at least in your mortal eyes.

Vergil allowed a proud smile to spread over his lips as nodded in agreement.

“Well, we do have Fortuna as an example of people worshipping demons as gods, so humans praying to demons doesn’t really surprise me. There are plenty of cults and even churches who do that.” You shrugged, organizing your books and papers, passing him a list of demonic cults you had been keeping track over the years. You weren’t one to judge, but, seeing your occupation was to slaughter demons, it was always good to keep an eye on them. “Eva and Sparda getting married made me wonder. Marriages are very religious, how did Sparda deal with that? Given his story, I don’t think it was only a civil ceremony for government benefits, right?”

“Right indeed…” Vergil once again murmured, curiously reading your list. It was a very thorough and good document, and he couldn’t stop himself to think how it was smart of you to do that. He had a list of people to keep an eye on as well now. “I’ve never really wondered about that as a child, for I didn’t know much of the world back then. We tend to accept that what we see and what it’s said to be true… But after I started researching and learning, it did spark my interest. As far as I can tell you, my father accepted my mother’s faith and married her by her rules, not the opposite. He would never do that just out of a civil agreement, he really did it for love.”

“So even with the power of gods, demons don’t have religions.”

“Again, that is a very good question. I never could really answer it with certainty.” Vergil sighed, leaving your list on the table between you and raising his silvery eyes to yours once more. “As impressive as it sounds, demons don’t lack faith. Some of them do worship more powerful demons as deities, and some of them do join each other in cults. As far as I could observe in Hell, they are very similar to humans on that matter: each has their own set of rules and beliefs and most of them kill each other for their ‘gods’.”

“Huh. Humanity once again proving they can be quite demonic.” You scoffed while rolling your eyes. Religious wars were as old as History itself and it was quite ironic for you to hear that was something present in demonic History as well.

“Or demons proving once again they have something of human after all.” Vergil shrugged after observing you a few long seconds, before turning his eyes to another one of his books again. “I’d argue not all humans, though. Differently from demons, most of them save themselves from being devilish and evil.”

“Hmmm. A few demons can also save themselves from that fate.” You had a slight smile on your lips, turning to your tea mug nearby. “And those who do can be even kinder than humans.”

That conversation would find its end right there that night, as both of you went back to your books and research – but you were able to see a slight smile on Vergil’s lips and how his eyes seemed to have softened after that.

Even if your Dark Slayer could soften under your words, you doubted other demons would do that – and even went as far as doubting they would have something close to a human heart. Vergil was different from all the demons in that place; and so, marriage was the last word you ever expected to hear.

But there you were, locked in a derelict room with Kyrie, surrounded by the long gone gothic architecture of a cathedral that once stood proud among those lands – now rotten, decayed, desecrated and with its colorful glass mosaics shattered everywhere, it was taken by demons to perform their unholy ritual.

“We’re really in it now, aren’t we Kyrie…?” You sighed back to the only human soul with you in that place – the only hope in that godforsaken night, lit only by the flickering warm light of candles. “Marriage. I did not expect it would be this way, though, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I didn’t expect it either…” Kyrie sighed in complete desolation, staring at a loose stone on the floor. “Nero is going to be so mad.”

“I can only imagine.” You answered with a giggle, taking a seat at rotten wood bench that once served as a place for priests to read while doing their own religious researches. “I don’t think Vergil is going to be very pleased as well.”

“Oh.” And it finally seemed to down on Kyrie who your lover was and how much trouble those demons were in. “Did he… Ever tell you about something like this…?”

“Well, marriage is not really a topic that usually arises with Vergil…” You had your eyes lost on an old bookcase, imagining if any of those would be worth a read. Not that you had too much time for that at the moment, but you were quite disturbed. If it was only you in that situation, you would be more at ease, but Kyrie’s presence changed everything. “But he did tell me about a similar ritual between humans and demons. The human usually isn’t a consenting participant though.”

Raising your eyes to hers, Kyrie felt a shiver down her spine. She knew exactly what you meant and that whole situation was also quite frightening for her – in a matter of fact, she probably wasn’t that scared because you were there; but even that didn’t help much. Not when both of you had no idea what was going on.

“I hate the fact they took my weapons. I’m thinking of a thousand ways to get out of here, but I can’t do it without at least my sword.” You rested your head on one of your hands, looking completely defeated. Kyrie had pity in her eyes, sitting by your side right after.

“Well… This isn’t exactly the sort of wedding dress I would choose either.” She sighed in desolation making you snort a quick laugh. “I’m not comfortable in this. I can only imagine how naked you feel.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” You rolled your eyes, pointing at your own attire. You and Kyrie looked positively ridiculous: it was as if the demon in charge of your clothes had only seen a bunch of 80’s movies depicting marriages and thought they had to be even more over the top than that. You could barely move in your own clothes and hated every single second of being in that thing. “If I at least had my gun, I’d shoot the bastard who thought this was acceptable.”

Kyrie had to giggle. It was always endearing to see how some of Vergil’s mannerisms spilled into yours over the time and vice versa. Your voice was as sharp as a piece of ice and your eyes had the same predatorial gaze – even if your words sounded funny in context.

“Couldn’t you use your summoned swords? Like Vergil?”

“I could but I shouldn’t.” Your answer was a little slow, because you were considering it. Using summoned swords was always an advantage, but it did come with its limitations. “Vergil is teaching me how to use all his arcane knowledge, little by little… But I’m human.” As you looked at Kyrie, she seemed to immediately understand what you meant: after all, she was the human companion of a half-demon as well. “It takes a lot of energy. Vergil can tap into his demonic energy that, honestly, it can power a whole city when he’s in the right mood. When it comes to me, though, I can only go so far. It takes a lot more concentration and I can do it only for a while – I’m a novice at it even, so I can’t hold it for too long. I need to train a lot more to be able to take an entire mission, for example.”

“Hmmm. It’s just like when Nero trains me with Credo’s sword…” Kyrie mumbled, resting her head on both of her hands, while her elbows leaned on her knees. You had to giggle: she looked like a bummed out child. “It’s so heavy, I can only do a couple of moves and I get tired quickly.”

“Is that why you’ve been training strength at the gym recently…?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. There was something of sweet about that.

Your little angel was soon going to become a buffed little angel waving a big ass sword around. You loved that concept. Nero’s jaw would hit the floor.

“Exactly.” But Kyrie had the most angelic of smiles on her lips. You knew how it was important to her to be able to use Credo’s sword, even if it was just to protect herself and the children of the orphanage – she was never going to become a devil hunter like you. But she was going to be a guardian angel… Like Credo would’ve been if Sanctus hadn’t taken him away in that demonic cult in Fortuna.

Before you could say anything else, though, you felt a shift in the air. Furrowing your brows, you immediately got up from your seat and put yourself in front of Kyrie: whatever it was, it would have to go through you first. She didn’t say a word, seeming to hide behind you and that horrid thing you were wearing – which didn’t really work, seeing how evident her own dress was.

With a few sparks, one of the demon lords spawned right in front of you: Erlach.

“Everything seems to be ready for the ceremony, then. Good.” His smile spread across his leathery skin as a row of a thousand sharp knives. Erlach carried horns and claws, eyes with desolation and the fiery pits of his home, and a set of large wings fit for an overgrown bat – but something about his features were astoundingly human. Demon lords could tower over humans, sometimes even taller than doors, and carry all the might and horror of Hell, but their kind were built in resemblance with their mortal peers – which wasn’t very common when it came to demons.

“When you force your guests to take part in it, things do get ready at your will, demon.” You had that typical coldness in your eyes – the type that would make the will of a lesser demon waiver. It wasn’t the case with Erlach, though: a spark seemed to have crossed his eyes, as he stared at you for a few seconds with interest.

“Apologize being so rude, but I do think you wouldn’t have come this far out of free will, human.” He spat back, allowing a smile to take over his features once more. It wasn’t the most inviting thing you had ever seen, you had to be honest.

“With this sort of attire, I certainly wouldn’t have.”

To your surprise, Erlach laughed in response. You quickly shared a glare with Kyrie, both of you uneasy with such… Tolerance from him.

“I might have to agree with you. Now, come. I wish to speak to you in private – we have enough to discuss.”

*

Before you could even respond, you blinked and suddenly, you were in an old study. Probably a part of the cathedral that only priests had access, with private rooms where they could make their own little libraries and studies – the desk had books and documents all over it, the fire was lit and a thousand candles burned in orange to give light to one of the deepest nights of the year.

You tried not to sigh: demonic teleportation was always a nuisance to you. Your human body still had to get used to that and you always got a little angry at Vergil when he void teleported you with Yamato: he was wise to always ask your permission first and, if it happened during an emergency and it was the only thing available for him to protect you, he knew he was in for some serious complaining from your part later.

Honestly, Vergil would rather have you safe, complaining at him and as mad as a human could be than have you harmed in a place he couldn’t protect you. He was actually getting well versed in dealing with your void teleportation complaints.

“Your kind isn’t very prone to conversations.” You had to point out, taking a deep breath. Your dizziness would be gone in a few seconds and you didn’t want Erlach to know how much it affected you. “Mindless dismemberments and self-boasting talk seem to be the preferred route for demons.”

“Lesser demons. Demon lords do have a different approach to things… And deals.” Erlach walked around his table, skimming over some documents before turning his fiery eyes to you and smiling once more. “The brainless dismembering style is still preferred by some, though. Like Orcus.”

“The second demon lord here tonight.” As you noted, Erlach seemed to have enjoyed your answer. It meant you were paying attention, not only trying to escape. “Demons are quite selfish as well, I wouldn’t expect to see your kind engaging in alliances. Or is that something peculiar to demon lords as well…?”

Yes, you were trying to provoke him – it was in your fighting style, in your blood. When fighting against demons, they all boasted how terrible they were, how they would smash you into a paste on the pavement and feast on your bones. You had to know how to answer at the same level or the fear would get to you. After all, you were fighting against supernatural things on a daily basis, obviously faster and stronger than you. If you didn’t taunt them to inspire a little bit of fear and belittle them before your humanity, you would cower in a corner and wait for certain death.

It was something Vergil admired on you, though. You had everything to fear those you fought against – and, sometimes, you knew you were overpowered by them. Even so, you wouldn’t allow that to show, you would masterfully control your emotions and only let out those you allowed your enemies to see. Vergil was quite proud of that.

“It’s peculiar to those of us who rather use our minds instead of our powers.” Erlach’s eyes lost all interest they had on the documents and were immediately glued to you and you only. Not once you shifted your gaze, and not once your body seemed to want to run away. You just stood there, immobile, gazing back at his fiery eyes with the same conviction as his – waiting the rest of his answer. “You see, I could break your bones with the flick of my wrist, but that wouldn’t be so fun, would it…?” Erlach approached with a slight smile on his lips, some fun playing in his words. His steps were slow and calculated, everything he could to inspire fear in your human heart. “There’s so much more in this world than bending it to your will by force.”

“It is a lot easier. Or so did Mundus think.” You crossed your arms and slightly raised your head, failing to notice how arrogant you looked… Just like Vergil used to be. Dante said one day both of you would get your ass kicked for looking cocky and, well, your day might have arrived. You wouldn’t let your pride slip out of you, tough, and something about Erlach’s demeanor made you think he wasn’t really annoyed by it. His feelings were… Something else.

“It didn’t take him too far, did it…?” Erlach raised one of his eyebrows, slowly approaching you once again. He looked like a predator ready to pounce on his pray, but instead of running, you maintained your posture. The one the Dark Slayer taught you. The one from knowing the power of being tied to the blood of Sparda. “Mundus was arrogant to think humans were only meat.”

“Apparently we are unwilling wedding participants too.” You scoffed, making Erlach laugh in response. You had to hide how his reaction took you by surprise: how much did you have to taunt him for that demon lord to finally lose his temper? “I don’t suppose you brought me here only to properly propose to me.”

“Differently from the Spardas, I do believe in taking some things by force.” Erlach’s voice had a delight laced in his words that made you… Slightly uncomfortable. “The ritual is taking place tonight, whether you and your friend agree to it or not. I just wanted to look into your eyes and see what the son of Sparda, the Dark Slayer who had been locked in Hell for decades, saw in you. A bond between a demon and any mortal creature isn’t one to be taken lightly.”

“Well, then you aren’t in luck. I am not married to Vergil, nor do I think he will ever want to be.” Your answer was certain and, to the demon’s surprise, carried no tinge of bitterness. You and Vergil had an agreement regarding your relationship: he would be with you for as long as you would have him, but he would never think of binding you to his fate like his father did to his mother. You had said countless times you didn’t mind and you weren’t afraid, but it wasn’t something Vergil was ready for. And you could respect that. “Our bond is not what you think it is.”

“Oh, it is exactly what I think it is.” Erlach’s words carried a truth you feared you weren’t able to see at the moment – as if he knew something you didn’t. You had to control your feelings not to furrow your brows and allow him to see your confusion, hiding it under your unbothered and strong demeanor – like whatever words he said could never affect you. “It isn’t a ceremonial bond, but one of souls. The heart does not lie, my exquisite guest, and the Spardas seem to be haunted by their father’s heartful curse.” His fingers grasped an old piece of paper in one of the desks by your side; Erlach’s indifferent eyes analyzed its contents while he spoke. “I will never understand why Sparda decided not to follow our rituals. He could’ve been great; Greater than Mundus himself. But he chose to diminish and turn himself as human as he could be… and look at what happened to him and his family. A shame, really.” He tossed aside the paper, and you could see an old picture of Sparda and Eva, falling apart from how old it was. Probably cut out from a book, looking like a painting; a portrait made long ago, before Dante and Vergil were even born. “Our marriage is called a binding ritual. It requires two souls to connect, and it makes one of them more powerful than one could ever dream of.”

“Hmmm. It requires one to diminish itself and be a powerless servant, then. I can see why Sparda discarded this option.” He would’ve never done such a thing to Eva, and that you had learned from all the stories Vergil told you from his parents. If you had only known the story from the books and popular tales, you would’ve asked yourself the same thing and have the same questions Erlach had – but you did have Sparda’s own son to tell the story. To paint you how his father was warm, stern, yes, but still kind, graceful and loving… To paint him as human. In all his adoration for Eva, he would never think of turning her into a powerless slave to his will. That was not what love was. “You still have much to learn.”

Erlach’s fiery eyes immediately met yours – but they didn’t carry the offense you thought they would. There was something else inside his demonic eyes. Was it… Excitement? Maybe…?

“Oh, little human, you have much to learn then to think some wouldn’t appreciate being slaves to their partner’s will. It is all a matter of pleasure.” His smile, though, immediately made you uncomfortable. If that subject had been mentioned by Vergil, you would definitely answer with a sassy smile and state that, in a matter of fact, you did know about that – and see where that conversation with your devilish partner would get you. But with Erlach…? It sounded more like a warning rather than anything else. Definitely a red flag waving in front of you. “The other soul does get something in return – some very important things in Hell: protection and status. Desecrating the partner of one of the most powerful demons to ever live could easily be a death sentence to whatever demon foolish enough to do so.”

“If that is the case, and I am bonded to Vergil, I wonder how foolish you have to be to willingly kidnap and forcefully wed the partner of the King of Hell.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud. You wouldn’t even say it in front of Dante and Nero. Whenever the subject decided to appear, you just nodded, agreeing with the others that what Vergil did was horrifying and terribly wrong.

But you couldn’t deny the power trip on the rare occasions you decided to flex Vergil’s King of Hell title.

It had its perks.

“Only foolish if I don’t finish the ritual in time, my little human. I was also careful enough to find myself some leverage.” Erlach immediately waved at the door, referring to Kyrie. You didn’t want to sigh in acknowledgement, but that was enough to at least try to put some halt in Vergil’s murderous rampage. Or to make Nero hold his father on a leash if Vergil just decided to recklessly kill everything on sight. You had some serious concerns those demons heavily understated Vergil’s power. “I had no intentions to let Orcus partake in this ritual but I did need a brute to carry out most of the killing; it would be terribly boring.” With those words, Erlach approached enough to stop right in front of you. At any moment you flinched or decided to walk back, even if everything in your being wanted to put some very good distance between the both of you. Preferably a Vergil of distance. “Therefore, he can bind himself to the weakest of partners. The grandson of Sparda clearly isn’t as attuned to power as Sparda’s spawns.”

“Only a demon would think a human heart is weaker than a devil’s will.” You scoffed in response, raising your head once even higher – in part to be able to look at Erlach directly in his eyes. Vergil’s gaze could cut like the sharpest of ice, and you had seen those silvery eyes in their worst. Erlach’s gaze was nothing compared to the Dark Slayer. “Maybe that was the source of Sparda’s power, have you ever thought of that?”

You would never throw a demon lord like Erlach at Kyrie, but you were quite certain he wouldn’t appreciate the truth to your words and would never turn to the crew’s little angel as the most powerful of partners. Demons could be quite predictable in your book.

“Hmmm. Maybe humans measure their status through empathy, but in Hell…” Erlach’s eyes leveled with yours, his head bowing to be able to share his gaze with you – and, instead of fear, he found something else… Something closer to pride. You were the counterpart of the King of Hell after all, weren’t you? You would never bow your head and lose your crown, Erlach was beginning to understand that. And appreciate that. “We measure through power. And you carry quite the power within you, dearest human. Vergil, the Son of Sparda, wouldn’t accept any less with all the titles he carries. He is part demon, after all.”

That was some food for thought that had never crossed your mind before. Yes, Vergil was partly human, but without a doubt, it was Dante who got most of Eva’s heart. Vergil always took pride in his demonic heritage and power, and always found solace in that – he slowly came to terms with his own humanity and learned to appreciate the human heart, but the thirst for power ran deep in his demonic veins. He did see something in you more than your human empathy… Or else, his devil would never consider bowing to you.

“Hmmm. If all you search is power then, you can always betray Orcus and perform the ritual only for yourself.” You had a spark of sharp intelligence in your eyes, making Erlach widen his smile as the words poured from your lips. “Surely a creature like you wouldn’t mind some backstabbing and murder to keep all the power to yourself.”

“Oh, my sweet temptation, I have to say, I love the way you think…!” Now his voice had a trail of smoldering lust that not even you could deny it was there. Yes, you were trying to manipulate the demon into killing Orcus and leaving only one demon lord for you to deal with – which would make your life quite easy – and probably releasing Kyrie while at it. But you never expected your little game to backfire so gloriously: perhaps Vergil was right when he said you still had a thing or two to learn about his kind. “And I know what you are trying to do – very exciting. A battle of wits and manipulation with a devil, you are truly fearless.” You didn’t think Erlach couldn’t approach you even more, but there he was, towering over you in a way you could almost feel his hot breath on your face. Even if you wanted to void-teleport Vergil right between you at that very moment, you wouldn’t back down – it wasn’t in you. “When all this started, I thought only to bond with a powerful creature of human blood – now… You have proven to be spellbounding, sweet sweet creature. I see what Vergil saw in you: all the cleverness, might, strength, wits; all that fire.” With those words, Erlach offered you his hand, with those fiery eyes staring inside your soul. “I will take you as my partner, but you can do it willingly. I will give you protection and you will be royalty in Hellish realms. You will rule by my side: everything we want is ours for the taking, and anything you ask, I will give you. Kingdoms, realms, worlds. Every living creature that has ever taken a breath will bow to us – the world is mine and yours to rule… You just have to say yes.”

Erlach’s words took you by surprise – your head spun and you thought soon your feet wouldn’t know how to keep you stable on the floor. Your plans backfiring was a serious understatement. You never gave Erlach a reason to like you: on the contraire, you only gave him reasons to be extremely annoyed and suspicious of any and all of your actions. He had no hidden agendas in his words, as far as you could see, and it was extremely obvious what was going on.

You just didn’t expect that to happen, out of all the outcomes of that night.

“Why would I do that when I am already royalty?” Your answer, though, came back with the icy stare you learned from your beloved blue devil, crossing your arms once more and raising your head high just like he used to do. It wasn’t something you did consciously – with time, people develop some mannerisms of their loved ones, and you were no different.

You just got Vergil’s arrogance – and you were more than ready to pay for your tongue. That little game between you and Erlach had already gone too far: you had spotted a few things in the room you could use as a weapon and you were ready to go feral if he attacked you because of your insolence.

You were disarmed, though, when Erlach started laughing – a laugh of pure delight.

“I will have to steal, then. Just like Paris did to Helen of Troy.”

“But remember: an entire kingdom burned just so that King Menelaus could have Helen of Sparta back.”

“Indeed, Beautiful Helen. I shall keep that in mind.” With those words, Erlach’s rough hands took one of yours by force and placed a sharp kiss on your soft skin – that seemed to burn like a lingering fire even after you were teleported back to your improvised cell.

You had to sit down. You had to sit down. That night was already becoming quite the ride – and you thought your Halloween nights couldn’t be even wilder than the ones you had already had so far. But there you were, proven wrong, by a demon lord with a crazy ancient ritual that required a demonic marriage. You were flabbergasted, shocked, breathless… And a little scared.

Vergil had always warned you not to play with demons – especially with those who were witty enough to answer at your level. You always thought he warned you so you could dodge being fooled and trapped into a deal you never saw coming in the first place – he never told you one of those creatures could develop feelings towards you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?!” Kyrie rushed towards you, sitting by your side on that bench you were before, checking your temperature. You were still staring at some lost point on the ground, clearly questioning your life choices so far. “Y/n! Did he hurt you?! What happened?!”

“I think one of the most absurd things just happened in this lifetime…” You murmured, finally staring back at her with a concerned look – but somewhat empty eyes. Kyrie just had her eyebrows furrowed, because if something worried you then she should be even more worried. “I think a demon lord just fell in love with me.”

“Ooooh, no…” The dread in Kyrie’s voice could be understood by even the most clueless of creatures. She closed her eyes, already foreseeing chaos and destruction. “Vergil is going to go on a rampage.”

Yes. And, honestly, you weren’t looking forward to that.

*

“I know we are in a hurry…!” Lady was leaning out the open door of the Devil May Cry van while Nico drove furiously right behind Dante’s trail. Screaming at the red devil while on the road wasn’t an easy – nor safe – task, but honestly, Lady had done worse. “But what are you trying to do, cowboy?! Not miss the train?!”

Dante immediately slowed down slightly, just so he could be side by side with the devil hunter he knew since his teen years. Looking up at her, Dante didn’t even have to watch the road to keep on going without running over anything – his demonic insight would make up for that.

“Kinda, Lady.” His answer was a little snarky, even if he didn’t want to. “Hey, kid! How are your instincts with your girl?!”

“Not good, I’ll tell ya that.” Nero growled, almost unable to stand still by Nico’s side. The gunsmith had made a mental note not to bother him through that whole evening: Nero’s fangs were already showing, his eyes had a tinge of gold, and his trigger distortion was already appearing in his voice. If she actually took some time to look at him, she would be able to see claws instead of nails and his hair a little bit longer than usual – almost like they were back in Fortuna. Nico still wasn’t used to half-triggered Nero and she could bet it would take some time. “Kyrie’s heart, she’s anxious. Somethin’s unsettling her. And I don’t like it. At all.”

With those words, Nero finished doing whatever he was doing with Red Queen and his sword clicked back into place, revving up with the engines he had installed long ago.

“If the kid is like that, imagine Vergil.” Dante stated back to Lady and Trish, now leaning by the open door completely unbothered by the speed and the wind. “He’s an idiot, but still, man’s got enough power to level a whole city. He’s an asshat who can control his feelings, alright, but he’s got one hell of a trauma and a thing for protecting. His partner is gone. He’s on a bloodlust rampage, trust me. We gotta get to this place before Vergil, or all hell will break lose.”

“Vergil’s our train. Got it.” Lady immediately turned serious, remembering all the times she had ever seen Vergil fight – and all he could do.

“Nico! Hit the gas pedal! We aren’t gonna get there in time going at this speed.” Trish strutted over the driver’s seat – always keeping an eye on Nero. She knew how half-triggers could be disorienting and dangerous, and she could help in case anything went wrong – after all, she was a full devil and, wanting or not, she could take down Nero in a fight, to some extent, if she ever had to. At least long enough to give Dante time to fight his nephew in a fit of rage.

“Already goin’ as fast as I can, demon lady!” Nico had her cigarette between her teeth and her foot never leaving the gas pedal. Indeed, it was the fastest speed for the van.

“We just gotta give it a spark, then.” With those words, Trish rested one of her hands on the van’s panel, her eyes immediately sparkling with thunderous yellow. Her demonic sparks ran through her body, pooling over her heart and running down her arm, jolting to the van and enveloping it on her signature yellow lighting.

“WOOOOAH!” Nico had to hold her cigarette even tighter, both hands on the wheel as the van seemed to fly on the road. “Are you CRAZY, woman?!”

“Keep your eyes on the road, virtuosa.” And Trish’s own glowing yellow eyes never left the streets. “We’ll make it there on time.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dante couldn’t help but laugh and use part of his own trigger to make Cavaliere go faster, now side by side with the van. “Keep it up, babe!”

They had to make it before Vergil. Dante knew in his heart he was the only one who could speak some logic back to his brother at a moment like that.

*

“Me and Vergil… We have a thing.”

You and Kyrie were being taken to the main event of the night: the ritual at the center of the derelict cathedral, under the light of the moon and the stars, witnessed by demons and the lost souls on the forgotten cemetery nearby. Barely any stained-glass mosaics were left – but those that were gave the cathedral an eerie tinge of color; like ghosts long gone in a place that was once holy. Your steps echoed on the stony ground, and you could hear the crackling of an enormous bonfire in the distance – as well as see the distorted, tall shadows of the demons taking both of you to your doom.

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing. I’m just saying it’s a thing.” You sighed, making her hazelnut eyes stare at you with interest as you walked proudly in front of her. The demons forced Kyrie to walk and kept shoving her until you made them only escort you to the ritual with just a stare of authority – she had to admit, you and Vergil were very much alike in some departments. “I can… Sense him sometimes. And he can sense me, whenever he wants to. It has to do with the arcane studies and the fact that we are partners.” You remained silent for a few seconds, closing your eyes for a while to take a deep breath before opening them again. “He can feel my distress. He knows when I’m worried, anxious, in danger.”

“Hmmm… Nero can do that too… I wonder if it’s a family thing.” Kyrie whispered back, not wanting the other demons to hear your conversation. You kept as close to her as possible, but still walking in front of her: if anything happened, it had better happen to you first.

“I wonder the same, too.” You answered with a breathy laugh, seeing the beauty of Vergil’s son being so alike him sometimes – and you wondered if Sparda had the same with Eva; with your heart already knowing the answer. “Sometimes, I feel Vergil’s rage too. His despair. His loneliness. His pain.” You went silent for a while, not really wanting to elaborate on that. It was the first time you were talking about that to someone on the crew – the first time you told Vergil, you had no idea what to do with those emotions and to say it was a roller coaster of a night to both of you, was an understatement. “What I feel is only a shadow of what he feels. And when he feels me, there is no force on Earth that will stop him. He will find me and, if need be, obliterate whatever is causing me trouble.”

“Oh.”

Kyrie finally understood why you said that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When it came to her and Nero, their connection was deep and strong – and she had never seen anything like that before. But, the way you were speaking, it was different with you and Vergil… Maybe even stronger. And, when it came to Vergil, that could be for good or for bad.

You had to wonder how it was with Eva and Sparda. He was a demon, after all, and she was human. If Vergil was already that protective towards you, and that ruthless when it came to his enemies, you could see Sparda destroying entire countries for the woman he loved – being a harbinger of nothing but death, ruin and despair, only to have her feeling safe in his arms once again.

The fall of the city of Troy never made so much sense to you before that moment. Even if in the original story Helen’s heart was taken by Paris, still, Menelaus burned, killed, maimed and destroyed everything in his way just so she could be Helen of Sparta again… You could see Vergil and his father doing the same – but, in yours and Eva’s case, you would be longing to be back into their arms once more.

“Vergil is coming. And he is not in his best shape, emotionally speaking.” You whispered back to Kyrie so she could understand the extent of the situation you were in. “What I just felt, I could kill one of these demons with my bare hands. When Vergil’s here, he will do his best not to hurt you, but he is focused in one thing only so… Get out of his way. And I’m not trying to be rude…”

“I understand.” Kyrie whispered back, carefully noticing the demons eyeing each other. She knew you weren’t really giving her a warning, you were playing a little game: planting seeds of terror and discord so they would tear each other apart from the inside just from being afraid of Vergil. It was a clever move and Kyrie would’ve praised you if she had the chance. “I’ve already seen Nero almost go on a rampage. It really isn’t nice. I hope he doesn’t try to join his father, or there will not be a single rock left standing in this cathedral soon enough.”

She decided to play your game, noticing a slight smile of approval on the corner of your lips. All of you hunters always had smart strategies to deal with the demons you did on a daily basis, but, when you were completely stripped of your weapons just like on that moment, you had to resort to other ways of fighting.

Your scheming had to be put to a halt for a while when you approached the decaying wooden doors that opened your path down the church’s aisle – a moth eaten dark red carpet, now almost black from dirt and time, painting the path you should follow; until you would stand side by side with the devil who kidnapped you, now waiting for your presence by a tall bonfire at the center of the cathedral, illuminating an altar right behind Erlach.

Things suddenly seemed even more serious now and your heart sunk in your chest. As you started to walk down the aisle, the demons watching that hellish ceremony chanted and hit their weapons or claws rhythmically on the stony floor. Kyrie was held by one of the demons who guided you towards the aisle, outside of that madness, but soon to go in after your ritual came to an end – after you got married.

A few seconds after your heart seemed to have sunken on the floor, you felt a rage bubbling inside your chest, threatening to come out of your mouth with an earth shattering scream; running through your body like a violent bolt of lightning, resting on your hands that immediately closed to fists as you raised your head high: for a split second, if you saw anything that could be used as a weapon to cut Erlach’s head off its neck, you would’ve taken it and plunged in like a furious beast.

That lightning, though, dissipated as fast as it ran through your body. You didn’t lose your posture and kept walking with certain, hard steps towards your fate – but that blind bloody rage was gone.

It was Vergil.

You knew it was him. It was right after you had that desperate, desolating feeling of not knowing what to do, of watching that harrowing scene right in front of you and not knowing how to get out… Of feeling trapped like a little mouse on a cage. You felt some of Vergil’s emotions in a very fleeting manner – in a bolt of lightning – but he could feel yours more certainly and longingly. That bloodthirst that ran through your body… It was just a fleeting taste of Vergil’s emotional response to knowing how unsafe you felt.

After all he had been through, protection was a big thing for your blue devil. He silently promised nothing would ever happen to his newfound family now that he was strong enough to protect not only himself, but everyone around him. Knowing you were vulnerable, completely exposed, feeling like prey and he wasn’t around to keep you safe… To say Vergil’s demonic blood was boiling was a great understatement.

“Come, brilliant creature among humans. Midnight is close, and the ritual must be completed.” Erlach offered you his rough, devilish hand so you could take and approach the altar with him – a stone containing a couple of candles and an old golden bow, marked by ancient, dry blood.

You stopped right where you were, not taking his hand, but still staring into his eyes. You were thinking of words of defiance, of improvised weapons, of anything you could do to get you and Kyrie out of there. If you had to fight that demon with hands and teeth, so be it, but you wouldn’t back down – and if it was for you to die, you would die fighting.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a roaring thunder rumbling through the pitch-black skies right above your heads. You couldn’t see any clouds and it didn’t seem like it was going to rain earlier that day, but that ominous thunder roared once more – with a flash of a lightning in the distance cracking down from the sky suddenly illuminating your face as you opened a broad smile. Erlach only eyed you with confusion, taken aback by the sudden prelude of rain.

“A storm is approaching.” Your somber voice did not match the smile across your lips and Erlach’s eyes filled with understanding – even if he himself didn’t think that was possible for only a half-demon like the Dark Slayer. “You have yet time to give up this foolishness before he arrives.”

“I am not scared by a little thunder, human. You shall learn that in time.” The demon decided to ignore the warning on your voice, taking your hand with a little too much strength, already guiding you to the altar.

But you heard whispers – among the other demons, yours and Kyrie's words were being replicated, some of them resting silent while others laughed. With your ominous warning over a simple storm, though, they started to wander… To fear. Was that something done by your lover? Was that the extent of Sparda’s power? The Dark Slayer, the one who escaped from Hell and from his imprisonment by none other than Mundus, was that powerful…? They didn’t know. And some of them, didn’t want to find out.

“Oh, you will learn to be scared.” You whispered, back, slowly going up the few steps that kept you and Erlach far from each other. He conducted you with an iron grip, while the only thing you had in mind was to buy Vergil more time to get to you. “As all of you do.”

“Not if I get the ritual done first.” With those harsh words, Erlach gripped your arm in a way you couldn’t escape, even if his gestures were a lot more flourished than brute. You saw a ritualistic dagger in his other hand and you knew what the next step would be. “Then he shall learn a thing or two about fear.”

His hands moved so fast you didn’t have time to quip back – even if you wanted to answer that, after all Vergil had been through, making him feel fear was quite the achievement. Very few things could frighten his heart and soul… And you were oblivious enough to point out that, Vergil’s protective and enraged response that day was not only out of love, but out of fear of losing you.

Before Erlach could resume cutting your hand to harvest your blood for the bonding ritual, you managed to pierce his arm with a white summoned sword. With that surprise, Erlach dropped the weapon and you took it in your hand – twisting it and approaching him enough to press it against his neck, already making him bleed. You just didn’t manage to kill him because his survival reflexes made him snap our of his surprise and hold your hand against his neck, struggling with you in order to see who would win: you, by taking his life, or him, by taking you as his.

“My King of Hell isn’t the only one who should be feared, demon. You will learn that with time.” Your voice was low and filled with pride, hearing as the other demons immediately started whispering to each other: Orcus and Erlach probably didn’t tell them all the titles your lover carried.

As if to support you, another thunder roared in the skies and a lightning cracked near the desecrated cathedral. Some demons seemed to gasp and become startled, expecting Vergil to emerge from the shadows at any moment.

A few drops of water started to fall on your hair, your face, and run down your hands… And between your lips as you smiled.

“You are indeed a rare one.” But, to your surprise, Erlach smiled back. His sharp nails buried in the skin of your arm holding the knife, making you relax your grip ever so slightly as blood started to run from the wounds he inflicted. “Blood is blood. No matter how I attain it. Alas, I wanted our bonding to be beautiful, but this will do.”

With your blood running down his claws, Erlach grasped the blade on his neck, cutting his own hand even if you didn’t let the dagger go. Reaching out for the golden bowl, you once again tried to stab his neck, but the demon finally let go of your other arm only to hold your hand back. As you both struggled, you did your best to keep his hand away from the bowl, with Erlach already muttering some words in a language long lost to your human ears.

It was your blood already mixed with his. Whatever you did, he couldn’t reach that bowl for anything in this world.

You didn’t notice when the rain became stronger. You didn’t notice when Orcus moved Kyrie away from the door. You didn’t notice when the thunders seemed to roar inside the earth beneath your feet. All your strength was concentrated in keeping Erlach away from the altar, and all his strength was focused on completing the ritual on time.

“Before me all things create were none, save things Eternal, and Eternal I shall endure.*” Oh, you would recognize that voice even if you were dead. The words creeped through the stone walls of the cathedral, accompanied by calm, calculated steps approaching with resolve. The demons’ attentions turned to the rotten door, as well as yours and Erlach’s eyes, finally stopping to struggle. Vergil’s silhouette finally made itself visible, as if he was taken by a cold blue aura in the darkness – his silvery eyes set on you and your foe, one of his hands grasping the hilt of the Yamato as the other kept the sword safe at his side. “Per aspera, ad Inferi.”

There was a change in the air. Your very breath seemed to warp around you as time became slurred and thick. For a few moments it was difficult to breathe, as the storm outside that desecrated place looked like it would start bleeding inside the cathedral. You stumbled back, closer to the altar, dragging Erlach with you – you knew what was coming. Some demons tried to run, others froze in place, while some got ready to fight.

You could see how that cold, fiery blue started to cut the air – a split second before Vergil disappeared and all you could hear was the sound of the Yamato slicing everything in sight. Time stopped for a while, your breath disappeared from your lungs, your heart didn’t beat. You held yourself together as strongly as you could, while Erlach stared at that view with a pair of impressed – or maybe even fearful – eyes.

Vergil appeared once more, now standing a few meters away from you – all he had to do was climb the steps to finally reach you. Placing Yamato in its sheath, Vergil took a few long seconds to get the shiny blade to slide down and, with a click, make most of the demons – and whatever decoration that was left standing – fall apart in piles of flesh and blood.

You didn’t want to say you had warned them, but well… You had warned them.

“You’re too late, Dark Slayer.” With those words, Erlach reached the bowl – now even closer than before, since you dragged him back not to be so close to a judgement cut of that magnitude. His words were like a bell, waking you up to the reality that a single drip of your mixed blood in the gold, and it would all be over.

But Vergil unsheathed Yamato once again, as fast as he moved down the aisle to reach you, and the golden bowl was cut in half – cracking in some places, gold dust spilling at your feet.

“You should learn, demon, some things can never be taken by force.” Vergil’s voice was like a velvety murmur in the dark – and you knew, the quieter he grew, the more time he had to marinate his anger. “Love, is one of them. Respect, is another.”

Those silvery eyes finally landed on yours, as a faint smile spread across your lips. Love would be nothing without respect, and Vergil argued that earning your respect was one of the most honorable things you could have graced him with – not that the love was not of importance, but if you had never come to respect him, the love you shared would have never flourished… And the reciprocate was true.

“Well, well, looks like we’ve arrived in time.” You heard Dante sighing by the door, guns already on his hands. “Big bad demon is all yours, Verge. We’ll handle things back here.”

“Kyrie!” And you barely saw Nero as he ran towards Orcus with all the rage of the world in his eyes, slicing demons in the way with a revved up Red Queen and leaving a trail of fire behind him. Sometimes he was a lot like his own father, but other times, his uncle's heritage shined through.

Vergil didn’t even look back at the crew already killing the demons who fought and who tried to run away – he only had eyes for you and the filthy creature holding you in its arms.

“Last time I saw you, my whips cracked on that soft skin of yours, spawn of Sparda.” And for the first time that night, you heard some more emotion on Erlach’s voice – something close to hate. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he said he was… Maybe he was prone to violence after all. “You tried your best to hold back your tears as your filthy blood tainted the floors of Hell. But everything cracks, eventually.”

A jolt of pain burned across your skin on your back as if you were naked, as fast as a bolt of lightning. You couldn’t help but to wince at the feeling, even if Vergil and Erlach remained immobile. In a fraction of a second, you understood a little of that pain, of a memory in the back of Vergil’s head that came back like a kick in the stomach, and it seemed not to affect him at all – but you knew, you could feel what he didn’t show.

The pain was fleeting, but the anger wasn’t – that was yours and yours only. As you suddenly flinched, you took advantage of that moment of surprise to move your arms once again and the strength of your boiling anger to slash Erlach as you could, eager to take a piece of him… Eager to kill him after the suffering he put your lover through.

“Everything cracks indeed.” You murmured as he took one of his hands to his face, noticing the considerable gash you opened on his cracked skin – now pouring blood profusely. “Next, I will cut your tongue.”

You heard a quick chuckle from Vergil, silvery eyes observing you with so much pride – and a little of something else. Pride was always easy to see in him: the way he carried himself, the way he posed with his head high, the way his eyes admired that which he respected and loved… But care was a different thing. If you were looking at your lover, it would take you some time to notice, but his admiration for you was never ending behind his pride to be able to call you his.

“I do understand how you came to love this human, that I will admit.” Erlach hissed back at Vergil, licking his own blood from his fingers. Risking a glance at the cathedral, the demon assessed the situation: the bowl was broken, the demons were all but destroyed, fleeing from the weapons of Dante, Lady and Trish, Nero had Kyrie back in his arms and Orcus was nowhere to be seen. “I truly underestimated the depth of your feelings for such a fragile creature.”

“Eloquent words, but no wisdom behind them.” Vergil’s response was prideful as always, as he walked the small set of steps to reach you – and probably slice Erlach apart. “Fragile is far from what I would use to describe y/n. I will burn bridges, destroy cities, crush entire empires to protect those whom I love and respect. There is nothing of fragile in that.” Pointing Yamato at Erlach, the blade almost touched the wound you inflicted in the demon’s neck. “You should remember that as I kill you for this insolence, pitiful scum.”

His stern eyes glinted with a tint of blue, as Vergil’s teeth were already sharp in fangs. His hands around the Yamato already started to resemble claws and his voice, even if you would love it in all of its iterations, had that distinct demonic distortion. His blue fire engulfed him like a faint shadow, but it did make your lover look even taller than he already was. On the brink of his humanity, it would take only a spark to make him burst into his demonic form.

“King of Hell.” You mouthed at Erlach while pointing at Vergil right in front of you, as if to prove a point – the point you wanted to prove from the beginning: no matter what those demons did, Vergil was stronger and more powerful than all of them together.

And, of course, you could use another rush of power whenever you flexed that title. You just hoped no one else in the crew would see it: you’d be in for some harsh judgement if they did.

“I shall remember for the next time we meet, son of Sparda.” Erlach turned his fiery eyes to you. “And I shall see you again, brilliant Helen.”

With those words, the demon used its own blood for an incantation to flee a battle he would definitely lose – a smart move, even if you didn’t know where he went… And if that ominous warning was not something you would have wanted to hear. You would prefer to see him dead.

“Hmmm… Bold of this creature to assume it could steal your love like foolish Paris.” Vergil had to murmur under his breath, immediately turning around to face you, Yamato quickly back on its sheath. Before you could say anything, Vergil took your hand in his with a surprising gentle touch, only so he could analyze the bloody scratches on your arm – as well as allow his silver eyes to burn with wrath. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, that’s the only wound. You don’t need to worry, Vergil.” Your answer, though, made his eyes fly to look into yours as if you had said one of the most jarring things he had ever heard.

“I will always worry about you. You know that.”

He didn’t have to say, you could feel it. You had felt his worrying ever since he had learned it was Erlach who kidnapped you and wanted to complete that mad bonding ritual. Vergil’s worry was in his fear of losing whatever love he managed to have in that godforsaken life of his, and that usually manifested in an unparalleled anger in him. All that wrath… It was one of the highest praises you could ever get from your lover.

Placing both of your hands to cradle his face, you didn’t allow Vergil to keep on speaking as you pressed your lips against his. It was one of the most effective ways you could rest that flame inside his heart and bring him some peace – the same way the droplets of rain seemed to want to wash away all the blood and fury of that night. It took him a couple of seconds to start melting under your touch, arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to his body, as your kiss quieted the fear that burned inside his heart.

You parted from his lips, even if Vergil himself didn’t seem to want to do so. His breathing, though, was already going back to a normal pace and you couldn’t feel his fangs under your lips anymore. As those silvery eyes stared back at you, the blue tinges were gradually gone. You took your hands to his hair, taking the rebellious strands that were already falling on his vision and brushing them back into his usual hairstyle – and Vergil even allowed himself to thank you with a soft smile.

“I cannot help but wonder, though…” He finally murmured, voice back to his dark tone with no traces of his demonic side showing up. “What, in the name of the gods, you are wearing.”

“Apparently, this hideous thing is what demons consider a wedding attire.” You sighed back, still in his embrace. You refused to look down and see yourself in that ridiculous thing again. “I wanted to get rid of it, but alas, the other option was to be completely naked.”

“Hmmm…” You didn’t know if Vergil hummed or growled, but you did know he was quite unpleased by that sight – almost as much as you. Taking your hand, Vergil guided you around the enormous bonfire behind the altar, in a place the crew couldn’t see you. “Don’t move.”

Before you could even ask what he had in mind, the air around you warped and your clothes fell on the ground after a quick and clean judgment cut.

That was a way to solve things, but…

“My clothes…”

Vergil immediately took off his coat, wrapping it around you and keeping you close, helping you dress it and hold it closed in front of you. It was a lot bigger than your form, and definitely a heavy piece of clothing, but it smelled like him – and that was one of the things that could always calm the distress in your heart.

“We will find your clothes. But you cannot walk around dressed like a clown.” With you still in his arms, Vergil placed a rather long kiss on your forehead, catching you by surprise.

A nice surprise that made you smile.

“On that, I agree with you. If we were ever to get married, I would have never worn such a thing.” You whispered back, making him chuckle while staring into your eyes again. Sometimes, the ice in his silver stare seemed to melt for a while, just like at that moment.

“You would be a beautiful sight to see.” His answer was also a whisper, and a rather unexpected one: that was something you never expected Vergil to say. He often mentioned how Sparda marrying Eva was a blessing to him and a curse to her, even if you insisted on arguing that probably wasn’t true; but you would never expect Vergil, of all people, would have imagined you on a wedding day… With him.

“Hey! Are you both makin’ out behind that bonfire? C’mon, it’s not time for that, Verge! Did mom never teach you to have manners?”

Dante’s voice interrupted whatever you could say in response, as Vergil already started to growl in annoyance at what his twin brother was implying. You headed back to the crew, twins ready to start bickering once again, as always. You saw Kyrie wearing Nero’s coat and couldn’t help but giggle – like father like son.

You sighed, finding Vergil’s fingers and entangling his between yours – his touch reciprocating immediately. It was time to go home.

*

“Your fingers are cold.”

Vergil held your hands close to him as you waited for the crew to drive back to the shop. Nico was smoking behind the wheel and you took some time to rest as everyone tried to find what the demons stole from you and Kyrie as well as where they found out about that binding ritual – or demonic marriage, as you began to enjoy calling it.

Your lover couldn’t stay away from you for too long, though. He came back after a little while, not wanting to admit he was too worried to leave you alone for more then a couple of minutes – even if you were with Nico.

He would argue if something bad happened, you would be the one doing the saving while Nico would be screaming around and trying to run demons over… And you couldn’t really disagree with him on that.

“Well, it’s part of my human condition.” You smiled back as Vergil had his mouth close to your hands, trying to warm them up with his breath. On the other hand, there was your blue devil, arms completely naked under his leather vest, oblivious to the weather. “I can’t keep myself warm while naked under a snowstorm like some.”

“Well, I cannot either.” Even if his eyes were a little harsh upon looking at you, there was also some amusement hidden underneath the ice. “Although I would survive enough to get you to safety.”

Vergil’s eyes went back to your hands while you kept on observing how he occupied himself with the task of warming you. His lips were close enough so you could feel them ghosting over your fingers, but never touching your skin. His rough hands cradled yours with a touch so gentle one would never expect from the likes of him. Everything about Vergil screamed danger, but when it came to you, it was completely opposite.

“I wished so bad you would find me.” You finally whispered, keeping your eyes close. Feelings weren’t easy for the both of you; somehow, you found that closing your eyes while being around only him was easier to allow your heart to open – and there were times Vergil did the very same thing when talking to you. “I… I did my best not to seem frightened. Kyrie needed me to stay strong, the demons couldn’t know and have the upper hand. But I was scared. I was lost. And I wished, deep inside my heart, you’d somehow find me in the darkness.”

“I know.” His answer was quiet, hands still wrapped around yours. You could feel Vergil’s breath as he spoke, slowly opening your eyes to find his looking back at your once again. “I know. No matter where you are, I will always find you.”

For a few seconds, the air lacked in your lungs and the words in your mouth. If you weren’t alone, you would’ve fought the tears that marinated your eyes, even if you didn’t want them to fall – they would rest there, making it seem like you were observing Vergil with a whole universe in yourself, just for him. And he would always appreciate that.

“As soon as I felt your rage, I knew you were coming.” You confided back, making him furrow his brows for a while. “I happen to be pretty good at energy work, Vergil. Remember sometimes I get to feel you back? I did today. And that’s when I knew I was safe.”

The last pieces of the puzzle arranged themselves in Vergil’s head: of course, when he got the strongest emotions from you, it was easier for you to get his. But when his emotions were too strong, that connection could work as well, for better or for worse – and he remembered how you flinched in the cathedral when Erlach mentioned how he tortured Vergil… When he was taken aback for a few moments suddenly feeling that pain he tried so hard to forget.

It was a shame you had to feel that too – his eyes went down to your hands while his eyebrows furrowed now from annoyance rather than confusion.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” You whispered back, placing your fingers under his chin and making Vergil look back into your eyes. “I’m here for the good, the bad and the ugly – no matter how harrowing it gets. You can always rely on me, as I know I can always rely on you.”

“As long as time will have us be together.”

Vergil’s murmured response was crowned with a gentle kiss on your hands, making you smile softly in return. You knew he was still annoyed with the fact you felt the worst of his emotions, but at least you were safe – and, for now, he would have to settle for that. You just hoped one day Vergil understood you didn’t see those terrible things that happened to him as a flaw, but as something he didn’t have to carry quietly on his own.

It just made you respect him even more than you already did.

“You don’t realize what you are, do you…?” Your question was a little absent as you kept on observing his stern face, with those silvery eyes now staring at you in confusion and distress: his heart beating a little faster, concluding you finally came to your senses that you had decided to give your love to a devil. “You deem yourself as one of the cruelest and worst creatures to ever walk the earth, but you don’t realize… Demons don’t protect their loved ones like you did today.”

To his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making Vergil instinctively hold your waist so you wouldn’t lose your balance. All the while, you never allowed those vulnerable silver eyes to leave yours.

“Angels do.”

As you placed your lips on his, Vergil’s embrace held you tightly against him – and even after you parted, he remained holding you, his head hidden in your shoulders and your hair. Vergil was silent and didn’t make a single noise, but you could feel the tears leaking into your mouth during the kiss and later dropping on your neck.

His heart could take a lot of harshness and cruelty, pain and torture, without even flinching. But this time… It was the first time in his life that Vergil was seen as good.

And his heart wasn’t used to that.

----

*Inferno, by Dante Allighieri

[larry-is-my-anchor1]

Hey Tim, how are you? This may be a bit forward of me, but whenever you decide to make Buddie canon can you consider the following title for the episode: “Do you feel the same? Too scared to say.”?

I just feel Buddie going cannon still may not be in the works for the second half of season eight. It shouldn’t certainly be a big aha reveal either with teaser commercials. It should be gradual and organic. Much like Bucks and Eddie’s relationship. I feel like so much care and respect have been given to them. I think for the most part for all of the characters.

But also there is still so-much work to be done with Eddie delving into his feelings. Show timeline is only three months since Christopher left. I gather much more time won’t have passed when the show returns in March. (😭). I would love to see Eddie work on himself more and repair his relationship with his son. Perhaps get him away from his stupid parents. Who truly are not helping.

I think Eddie still may realize his feelings before Buck though. But maybe Buck will realize before Ed’s. But Buck does not want to be a cliche of falling for his best friend so he won’t act on his feelings? Or maybe Buck in his own time does tell Eddie, but at first Eddie isn’t ready because although he’s finally out he’s scared. I don’t know. They both have abandonment issues, maybe neither of them won’t say anything for sometime?? Their dance is moving away from the point of you fools have always been in-love, to why aren’t you fools acting on your feelings? Buddie is clearly end game. Or should be.

We need scenes with Eddie admitting his attraction to men. Either when he was younger, maybe during his time in the army. Or maybe when he was in high school during the period when he and Shannon broke up. Perhaps the show could explore why Eddie stopped going to church. And his sexual identity was the reason. His faith has no room for homosexuality. But his family and church were still strong influences to stay with a girl. And Shannon was just the perfect person to hide with. Maybe that’s why he ran away at first to the army. He just didn’t know how he got to where he was. Marriage, a baby and being an adult. Whatever that means. They all were so overwhelming. Maybe his parents made him “behave” like the man of the house because they knew for sometime that Eddie was not heterosexual. We need to see his discovery lore and why he hid himself. The shame society and religion put on queer people. But also joy meant being selfish in most religions. To act out on joy brings negative consequences. Eddie isn’t there yet with not punishing himself.

Also been trying to figure out who would want to kidnap Maddie? The kidnapper appears female. Though again not sure. Is it a random distraught person? A serial killer? Someone out for vengeance? Why Maddie? Why does the show have to be all full throttle with drama and also torture us with, well we’re not sure yet how Buddie will go? Why though? After all the eye fucking they have done for the last seven seasons!

Season eight seems all over the place. After watching and rewatching the show a few times I’m having trouble seeing how main story lines and subplots are woven together.

Is it weird I kind of got used to Eddie’s mustache. I know it represents something negative but I like the look on Eddie. He’d actually make a good Magnum PI. Just incase Hollywood wanted a spinoff down the line.

The waiting is torture and it’s only the beginning.

[reashot]

What do you mean you won't LEWD me?

Thank you all for helping with the reblog of my last fic and I love what some of you made that I'm making this as a sequel to it.

Ruby's House.

Ruby: Jaune, thank you for your help in making breakfast 🍳☕🥓

Jaune: It's the least I can do Ruby for letting me stay the night. And thank you too Ruby for helping me with the cooking.

Ruby: Flatterer. But I don't think that heating up bacon and eggs can be considered cooking.

While Jaune is busy preparing the table for everyone. Ruby silently walks up behind him and lovingly embrace him.

Jaune: Ruby?...

Ruby: I-I want to say that I'm sorry and I admit that I may.... Have gone a little bit overboard last night.

Jaune: I don't think attempted rape can be considered little.

Ruby: That's because you keep rejecting me. What do you have against me Jaune. Do you hate me or something? Because if you do then just say it. Don't string me along. Don't get my hopes up...

Ruby said to him as she cries into Jaune's back and Jaune then respond by slowly turning around and returns her embrace.

Jaune: How could I hate you? You're the greatest girl I know.

Ruby: T-then why?

Jaune: I don't even know myself Ruby. I want to do it with you too, but it just doesn't feel right.

Ruby: What do you mean it's doesn't feel right?

Jaune: I mean we should wait until we're married at least.

Ruby: What?

Jaune: I haven't told you this before but I'm a firm believer of abstinence.

Ruby: Abstinence. What the fuck is that?

Jaune: It means I will not engage in lewding before marriage.

Ruby: Huh!!! What kind of messed up crap is that are you in a cult. Is that it Jaune, you won't bone me because you're in a cult?

Jaune: No! I'm not in a cult. I-I just don't want to ruin what we have by sullying you before marriage.

Ruby: You can sully me if you want! I don't mind and you know I want your baby so you know that I will marry you no matter what.

Jaune: Still Ruby, no means no. But thank you for thinking about marrying me. I know that you can do better.

But before Jaune can finish saying his piece. Ruby's mind starts to wander into a dark place. And in that place she finds her mother...

Ruby's subconscious.

Ruby: Mom! Mom! I need your help!

Summer: Say no more my dear. Please tell me what's wrong?

Ruby: Mom! The boy I like doesn't want to lewd me.

Summer: Oh I'm sorry to say Ruby but I think he's gay. Cause there's no way any straight boy would say no to LEWDing you. Maybe you should find another guy to be your new boyfriend...

Ruby: No. Hell No! I will not pick any other boy but him.

Summer: He must be such a great guy if you think so. But it still doesn't change the fact that he's pitching for the wrong team.

Ruby: B-but here's the thing he wants to do it with me but he wants to wait until marriage.

Summer: Is that boy is in a cult? Please tell me he's in a cult.

Ruby: That's what I said, but no. He said he believes in Abstinence.

Summer: Damn organized religion... Ruby this is why I raised both of you to be godless heathen. Anyway, let me check who this boy you want to pounce on.

Ruby: Isn't he the cutest? 🥰

Summer: Oooh mama likey... Wait a minute; blonde hair, blue eyes and dressed like he's going to a Renaissance fair... He's the Arc Boy!!!

Ruby: Mom, you knew him?

Summer: Knew him. I actually promised his mom to marry him off to you.

Ruby: *gasp* I'm enganged to Jaune?! That's awesome!!! We're meant to be. I gotta tell Jaune about this!

Summer: Wait a moment Ruby. I know how you can make Jaune LEWD you.

Ruby: You do. How?

Summer:

Back to reality

Jaune: ... And another thing Ruby it's not okay for a girl of your age to say "lewd" all the time.

Ruby: *shakes head* oh yes of course keep talking hot stuff me likey when you do it...

Jaune: Ruby I'm being serious here.

Ruby: (I like it when he's trying to be all serious and shit. It just makes him look even cuter.) Oh look Jaune, you have a smudge there on your pants from cooking earlier. Here let me help you out. 😋

Jaune: It's okay Ruby you don't have to... W-wait what are you doing?!

Ruby: Well you have to take off your pants to clean it first right?

Jaune: N-no it's fine Ruby please stop it! I did not consent to this...

Ruby's subconscious

Ruby: Mom! What the F are you doing with my body!!!

I know it's my body but if I'm not the one doing the deed then there's no point.

No! I don't consent to this! What kind of monster would force themselves on others.

I gotta find a way to get out of here. Please someone help. I'm about to get NTR'd by my mom!

Back to reality

Ruby: Shhh.... Just let it happen. *lower pants*

Jaune: No please. I don't want to lose my virginity. There's still an Elder Scroll video I haven't watched yet... *struggling to keep his pants up*

Kitchen's entrance

Tai: What the hell is making all this racket... *gasp*

Mama Arc: Oh my... This early in the morning too. Looks like I'll be getting my grandchildren after all. Right honey?

Papa Arc: Uh yes. I guess... *sips coffee* (I'm way too hungover to be dealing with this.)

Yang: Oh, sis not in the kitchen. At least do it in your room.

Tai: Yang... Get me my shotgun.

Yang: Which one the 20 gauge or the 12 gauge?

Tai: The 12...

Yang: There's not gonna be much left of him if you use this you know? *hands over shotgun*

Tai: That's the idea. *load shotgun*

Mama Arc: Dear please do something. I think Tai is about to kill our Son!

Papa Arc: *sips coffee* (What do you want me to do I just woke up.)

Oh no! Tai is about to blow Jaune's head off. Will Jaune get to keep his head and will Ruby gets back into hers. Find out next time on Drag... I mean in the next post.

Dear viewer you get to choose what happens next.

[ollie-duck]

Okay so

Racism towards Palestinians and not being starkly against their genocide is okay because you “have family in isnt-real (but they’re not white)”.

But

People having odd interests as coping mechanisms with the disorder that relies on coping with trauma in such extreme ways that the subconscious literally doesn’t fuse is bad.

Got it. Alters simply existing bad. But genocide acceptable.

Have the day you deserve, bootlicker.

@clockworkconstellati0n since you want to publicly insult me but are too much of a coward to do so with your handle attached (either that or your system blog is a side blog, either way, dick move).

You want to play this game? With an archaeologist? Really? Fine, I’ll play.

At no point did I say what Netanyahu is doing to the Palestinians is any way acceptable. I even told you outright that I believe in the two state solution. (AS DO THE VAST MAJORITY OF ISRAELIS on both counts)

(Proof)

Telling you that MY family isn’t white is not even remotely akin to racism against Palestinians. I brought it up because it’s a common JVP talking point, the same organization you openly claimed (at least some) affiliation with.

(Proof)

As for me calling out “alters for just existing” but being “totally fine with genocide” -

I don’t talk about the war specifically because it’s extremely upsetting to me, and also not even remotely relevant to system stuff. As for me not being okay with the guy who openly and publicly SUPPORTS THE ACTIONS OF THE FUCKING COLUMBINE SHOOTERS (it was more than just having fictives of them, if you had actually bothered to read the G-d damn post)

The fact that you assumed all of this about me simply based on the fact that I have family in Israel speaks VOLUMES about your values.

Good luck converting to an inherently Zionist religion with biases like those!

Quick lesson for those who don’t know!: Zionism/Zionist is the simply held belief (and the basis of our entire religion!) that Israel is our ancestral homeland, and that because we are indigenous to it, we ought to be… oh I don’t know… allowed to live there? Zionism does NOT mean you support the war. It does NOT mean you support Netanyahu. It does NOT mean that you believe we cannot coexist peacefully with the Palestinians. It does NOT mean you believe all Palestinians should die. It means, and has ALWAYS meant, that we believe we deserve to live in the land of our origin.

You say you want to convert to Judaism, but are just having such a hard time finding a non Zionist Shul to attend!

I wonder why that could be?

Did you know that over half of the 613 mitsvot are IMPOSSIBLE to perform outside of the land of Israel? But Judaism isn’t inherently Zionist or anything.

Pop quiz:

What temple was sequestered by a known Greek conqueror and later reclaimed by its original Jewish builders?

A) The temple of Manhattan

B) The temple of Canada

C) The second temple of Jerusalem‎ in Israel, then known as Judea ( בֵּית־הַמִּקְדָּשׁ‎ הַשֵּׁנִי‎ ) - gee I wonder what happened to the first one?

If you answered C, congrats! We celebrate this temple being returned to us every year with the Festival of Lights (hannukah)!

Question 2:

What land did we spend 40 years looking for after leaving subjugation in Egypt, according to our most sacred text?

A) Manhattan

B) Canada

C) Israel, the land of our birth

If you answered C, Israel, you’d be correct! But I’m sure that wasn’t one of the most important stories of our entire religion, or anything, right?

Question 3:

What popular phrase is said that the end of the Passover Seder, promising to celebrate next year in a specific city of great religious and cultural significance?

A) Next year in manhattan!

B) Next year in Ontario!

C) Next year in Jerusalem!

If you chose C, you’d be correct! Jews promise every year when we celebrate Passover, that next year we will do it in our most sacred city, the city in the land of our birth!

Oh dear, is that ANOTHER Zionist holiday? Maybe there’s a reason you’re having so much trouble finding rabbis who want to completely disown our most important doctrine. It’s not like the entire religion hinges on us being sons and daughters of Israel, or anything!

Have you participated in Tisha B’av yet? I wonder what that one commemorates! Fasting is very serious.

Uh oh! Looks like we found another Zionist holiday!

How about the holiest holiday we have (Yom Kippur)? Surely THAT one can be celebrated by anti Zionists such as yourself!

Oh dear! It looks like this one ALSO started in Jerusalem! Bummer!

But I’m sure you’ll have absolutely no conflicts with your fellow Jews by converting to the religion BUILT ON ZIONISM! They surely won’t feel unsafe in your presence, because obviously you wouldn’t go out of your way to insult them for where they were born! That would be racism! You aren’t racist! It’s not like over half of us were born in Israel or something!

“Over half of the Jewish population are Israeli-born to at least one parent who was also Israeli-born. Those of European and American ancestry make up about 2.2 million (36%) of the Jewish population in Israel, while Africans fill out another 14.5% and Asians are 11.2%.”

(Source - Jewish Virtual Library)

“More than four-fifths of all Jews live in just two countries, the United States (41%) and Israel (41%).”

(Source - Pew Research Center)

Are you sure that picking this fight with an archaeology major who hoped to specialize in the Near East was such a good idea?

You come for my family and I will come for you.

If this had stayed about me, I would’ve reacted with far less vitriol in my fact checking. But you went and brought my family into it. Given that you have such little grasp of what is important to Jews, I find it pertinent to mention that we always protect our family, no matter what.

Uncut screenshots and proof that this is them will be put in the reblog as I’ve hit the image limit.

[wayhaughtn7]

I don’t know why I keep getting surprised that the god takes keep getting worse. The people of Exandria are completely free to NOT worship the gods, and can be as angry as they want about the gods actions, but that does not give them the right to plot a genocide of the gods. Also, the polytheistic pantheon of Exandria is not Christianity and as someone who fucking hates organized religion folks need to stop using their issues with Christianity when they talk about the gods of Exandria.

[alphamalereviewsfanfics]

CAN YOU TASTE MY LUST? CAN YOU FEEL MY SIN? By Heartofhubris

SUMMARY: “But, the issue had arisen during your nights when he filtered into your dreams. Nights of imagining him taking you in the pews,laying you out on the dark woodtostrip you bare to his whims.
When you focused back into the Father, you felt your blush travel up to your ears. The thoughts would only offer more confessions, and you didn’t want to add in more sins you had to confess.
“We are all sinners,” Father Ford said.

Enjoy the sacrilege, you damn heathen

Priest Ford AU where he's aware of what he can do and he does it.”

PREGAME: Happy Easter my fellow alphas!!!!! My partner requested this one and I thought it would be silly if I was a bit sacreligious on this holiday because I kinda hate it 😎😎😎 not because of like the religious shit itself but like because the rabbit shit doesn’t compute in my brain and also because of how my family celebrates good ole Easter but what can you do. I’m not catholic, but I was raised pretty non-denominational Christian and I haven’t been to church since I was 10 so like I know nothing about this shit. I’ll take most of my knowledge from watching midnight mass so like if it’s insanely inaccurate to how this catholic shit goes then that’s not on me that’s on the author, who describes themself as “catholicphobic.” Also I only read this twice instead of my usual five times before reviewing so sorry if the review sucks ass that’s just the alpha way though.

REVIEW: When I was younger I desperately wanted to learn latin. I watched this Wes Anderson movie called Rushmore (it was an earlier one so it wasn’t filled with the crazy aesthetics he has now) and I was in love with the idea of taking Latin and going to a Latin club and reviving an almost dead language. It drove me mad and I would try to teach myself Latin with google translate (because duolingo and sites like that weren’t really a thing) and I learned all about the etymology of words in the English language and I was obsessed with it and I would tell everyone what the root of certain words was and it annoyed the shit out of people (especially my sister). Anyways the point of all this is that Latin is not sexy. And it never will be sexy to me. And I don’t know why I was so fucking hung up on the mention of latin because like there aren’t even any latin words in this fic!!!!! It just mentions it!!!! So moral of the story don’t be me. This is pretty well written though bro. The author succeeds with constructing a kinda like repentance vibe in the first few sentences. Like it feels like there’s nothing else to be written besides priest porn. Like that’s the end goal. Even if there wasn’t priest porn in it I would get the vibes of priest porn like just read the first few sentences l think Aw man this’ll either be some good religious horror novel or some killer priest porn. And I respect the hell out of that bro like it got the tone down bro. And like the porn itself is pretty well written like man I’m bewildered that the tone just fit so well bro like I don’t get it I’m baffled bro this is insane!!!!!! Like the porn was so well written bro it has tone and emotion to it you don’t get usually bro trust me. Anyways my partner said they were really into this fic and I gotta support them on that it was well written even if I find the father thing kinda silly but like I don’t know I’ve never tried it. Also priests are silly and I couldn’t see Ford into religion like characterization wise buuut I’m putting the mischaracterization aside because it’s just made for people who want to get off to priest ford pines and I gotta respect that. So if you’re into ford pines and you’re into priest shit this fine Easter Sunday then do some sacrilegious shit and read this fic

RATING: 6/8 fingers (BETA MALE STATUS)

Happy Easter and Ramadan and Passover and death anniversary of Margaret Thatcher my alphas 😎😎💪💪🔥🔥🔥

[thewitchfarhan]

Why are you reblogging from evilios? Do you know that they’re a zeus apologist, right? 💀💀💀

I'm going to preface this by saying this is going to be a *MONSTER* of a post, so be warned - it's gonna be long.

TLDR: “But when it comes to the spiritual people I follow and reblog from on Tumblr - I have the following rule for myself:

If I like it, I interact with it, if I don’t - I won’t. If the blog isn’t upsetting to me or triggering me then I’ll follow, if it is - I won’t. If someone isn’t harming anyone by their spirituality then I’ll respect it, but if they are - fuck 'em.”

Hi anon - thank you for your inquiry. This is actually something I have been pondering for a bit and I feel ready to express my feelings around this issue.

To start - I am *very* new to the Hellenic Pagan community. While I have been a practicing Witch and Pagan for about 10 years - Hellenic Paganism is not a practice I have worked with/within prior to 2023.

Additionally - I make a point to not pass judgment on a spiritual belief or path before researching it from a third-party point of view, and examining the historical documentation available (as opposed to just taking into account UPG).

With that being said - my feelings toward Zeus as a deity/spiritual entity are negative (as you can see below from a previous post I made).

A good portion of the myths about Zeus that I am familiar with have heavy themes that center around male entitlement, assault, r*pe, and misogyny. All of which are not only morally reprehensible - but also somewhat triggering for me as someone who grew up Catholic.

I have seen individuals say that you have to take into account the “historical context” in which myth and religious texts are written. I have seen individuals say things along the line of “These myths were written by misogynistic men so they projected their own values and beliefs onto Zeus, that’s now who Zeus really is!”

[I'm going to use the anon above as an example because their thoughts and sentiments are ones I see often from Zeus Devotees / Zeus Worshipers]

I’m not in the business of trying to tell others what to believe - not because I think all beliefs are valid - but because I know it’s pointless.

However, if you are going to use Greek Myths as the source material for your religious practice - then it would be more logical to compare these myths - not to Paradise Lost - but to the Bible.

So, if Greek Myths (the basis of Hellenic Paganism) are symbolic and not to be taken literally - then prey tell where are you getting your canonical information from? Which religious texts *are* to be taken literally?

The bottom line, and answer to this quandary, is this:

All religion is invented. All religion is made up. All religion was created by humanity.

Cows and Crows don’t have religion. They do not build altars or shrines. They do follow religious codes. They do not worship or name divinity.

We can trace a before and after period for every religion's existence. There is not one religion that has existed from the dawn of time (and if anyone claims such they’re lying because humanity evolved from other species who definitely did not have any concept of ‘religion’).

So, with that being said, if you aren’t part of an organized religion/coven/cult - then you have two options.

1. Interpret all holy and traditional texts as literal and abide by their ever moral, rule, and decision within your personal practice.

Or

2. Acknowledge that you are picking and choosing what you believe to fit your own moral and personal narrative. Admit that you are making up your own personal gnosis and acknowledge that any judgment of your personal practice is also a judgment of your person. Admit that if you aren’t taking source material literally (which is a totally fine thing to do) you are inventing your own religious gnosis.

Want to worship Zeus and ignore all myths that portray him as a r*pist? Go ahead! I have no issue with you. Just don't try to somehow make those myths "valid" or "just symbolic" - just admit what you're doing and move on.

Because if you’re going to go around saying “Oh this historical information is valid but the other one isn’t and shouldn’t be judged from a modern lens!” then congratulations! I’m going to view your practice through the same lens as those who praise the Christian God as an all-loving entity and ignore the fact that (according to the story of Noah’s Ark in the Bible) he murdered every single adult and child on planet Earth, aside from a chosen few.

At the end of the day - do what you want. I don’t have any authority to stop you and I’m not gonna fight with you. But if you want my personal opinion on Zeus worship it is this:

Zeus, for me, is categorically defined by his actions. While there are many stories of SA and Abuse in Greek Mythology, Zeus as King of the Gods takes the cake. Not only because of the sheer number of stories that center around him committing acts of SA - but also because as the King of the Gods, he should be held to a higher standard.

Since I am not part of an organized religion/coven/cult - I get to choose how I interact with spirituality, and for me, that includes judging it through a modern lens.

I chose to not ignore the myths that portray Zeus in a negative light because I think the sheer number of those myths defines Zeus' character and what he represented in ancient times.

But when it comes to the spiritual people I follow and reblog from on Tumblr - I have the following rule for myself:

If I like it, I interact with it, if I don’t - I won’t. If the blog isn’t upsetting to me or triggering me then I’ll follow, if it is - I won’t. If someone isn’t harming anyone by their spirituality then I’ll respect it, but if they are - fuck 'em.

Feel free to send any follow-up questions, I could talk about this shit for days.

[radioactive-metal]

Absolutely insane Ficlet

ok… I wasn’t expecting to finish this in one go, but here we are. Uhhh, the bones in a box story is true, but it was on a US navy vessel, or so I hear. I honestly believe a decent chunk of this stuff, I’ve built two computers and by god they can be fickle bastards sometimes. Also the blood sacrifice thing is real and I have don’t it at least once. The device I used it on worked flawlessly for the rest of the time I had it. Anyways: enjoy

“Hey. I just realized I’ve never asked… do you… have? Practice? Do? Religion?”

Scarlett’s question roused me from my nap on the lounger. Whatever they made those things out of was about as addictive as Mes’ha’tak comet dust. I felt like I could just lie there forever, and enjoy the rest of my days in that wonderful place just between awake and asleep.

But I was getting sidetracked.

“Uhhhh…. Kinda? Ish? Sorta? Not in any organized way at least.”

I figured this day would have to come at some point or another. My beliefs are…. Nonstandard.

“My First Mother had been devout to the religion of our continent, but she hadn’t pushed it on us. I had tried for a while, especially after I got sick, to pray, in some hope to give me guidance after having my strength taken, but belief wasn’t easy for me, and I was angry. If there were gods, why had they done this to me? If they were good and just, why would they give a child a crippling illness? 

Once I went off to the space station, I stopped believing in anything. I figured that everything was just some random confluence of innumerable factors, that there were no spirits or gods or ghosts, just our own understanding of natural phenomena. It was from this that I took some amount of comfort in the fact that my illness was just random chance, that some deity hadn’t sickened me but that I had just been hit with the cold probability of the universe. All of this still fits with what I believe now.. mostly.

The only thing that’s really changed is the whole spirits thing. It’s one of the biggest aspects of the gearhead folklore and mythology. When you get hundreds of likeminded people, all working on ridiculously advanced technology that is just about unknowable to your average person, and barely understandable to all but the best and brightest gearheads, random things seem to work and not work on a whim. One day the longbows targeting radar works fine, next it refuses to work no matter what. I actually heard a story of a gearhead that welded a box of bones to his ‘bows  radar controller, and the thing worked fine for the rest of the time he had it. That’s one of the old tales that successive generations of gearheads pass down, that the machines work better with blood sacrifice. On some very instinctual level it makes sense, we work on machines built for war, no wonder they want a little bit of blood, but the thing I can’t explain is that it works. I’ve seen it. Hell, I’ve used it! It’s the strangest thing, every time I’ve cut my hand on a piece of machinery that was broken, every computer malfunctioning, for goodness sakes an entire reactor! Every time, without fail, it starts working again. I don’t know what it means, but apparently the machines desire blood.

The other central tenet of the gearheads belief is that each and every machine has some sort of personality, and the more complex it is, the more that personality asserts itself in the operation of the machine, especially when it had electronics. I don’t know what kind of fucked up silica they use over at Aurora Labs but that stuff comes with hate as an essential ingredient. They have a few old Mk.2 bows at the academy to teach the gearheads on, but I swear on my 2nd grandmother each one had a personality. One was an old bastard, always something wrong, sometimes the displays would keep flickering, sometimes the climate control would break and we were all stuck sweating ourselves to high heaven, once or twice the reactor just crapped out mid flight and they had to send a tug out to get us. I’m almost certain the thing was trying to get itself retired. There was another one that just… always worked. I don’t know how. I opened up panels and found random components missing, or wires disconnected, or screws loose and yet it was the most reliable ship we had. I don’t think I ever saw it down for maintenance. And each ship played favorites too, some ships loved me, some hated me. And all of this was just… acknowledged as common occurrence. 

Which brings me to the elephant in the room: my exosuit. I’m convinced this thing has some sort of intelligence in it. It does things I can’t explain. It will work noticeably better if I talk to it in sodding binary! Like Ones and Zeros! I don’t know why, I don’t know how, it just does! Like when we found the Zero, and I repaired my suit, you know what I found? The thing had bypassed the damaged servo gears! It would power different motors depending on where my leg was so that it was always powered! I didn’t know it could do that! I didn’t make it to do that! It just did!

But I have gotten very sidetracked. So: no scar, I don’t practice a religion, not an organized one at least, but I do believe in the inexplicable and unexplainable, you don’t get very far as a gearhead without that.”

Scar blinked in rapidly, looking at me like I had just grown a third arm.

“If you say so then handsome… now see if you can’t get the spirit in your exo to make itself waterproof, I want to go for a swim”

“No need, I did it myself”

[feral-ballad]

as a pro-palestine jew trying to justify myself to my family, I really appreciate the sources your blog is providing!! that being said, and this is a genuine question, hamas’s charter directly called for the annihilation of all jews. “The Day of Judgment will not come about until Moslems fight Jews and kill them.” how can you support hamas when they’ve said something like that? just as israel is not synonymous with jews, hamas is not synonymous with palestinians and it’s possible to support palestinian liberation without supporting an actively antisemitic organization. if you’re jewish and have somehow made peace with that statement then I can’t understand but I can respect it, but it doesn’t seem that you are, and there’s no way in my mind that I can as a jewish person get behind something so plainly calling for the genocide of jewish people. again this isn’t me trying to have a gotcha moment or whatever, I really want to understand

the lack of condemnation ≠ support of hamas. “hamas is not synonymous with palestinians,” you are correct. however, if hamas does not exist, palestine will be wiped out. condemnation of hamas serve to justify support for israel wiping them out. which means ethnic cleansing and a continuation of genocide. hamas is a resistance group operating in opposition of the oppressive israeli government. “it’s possible to support palestinian liberation without supporting an actively antisemitic organization,” no it’s not possible. do you hear yourself? who is going to liberate these people? the sky? our prayers? demanding the liberator (hamas) to be “perfect” while there’s a fascist oppressor is celebrated is fucking insane. this is not about islam vs. judaism. this is not about religion. before 1948, there was no such thing as “israel,” it was palestine, with muslim, christian and jewish arabs (and other religions). you claim to be pro-palestine, but you don’t like it when palestinians are defending themselves against their oppressor? the palestinians have EVERY right to defend themselves (despite whatever hamas stands for) in any way possible! you’re just simply falling for israeli propaganda. no one fucking mentions the countless crimes of the IDF that they have been committing for years because they can just be waved away with “but hamas!” lmao okay. you can’t say “free palestine” then condemn a liberation movement in the same sentence. not to mention, equating the resistance of hamas to israeli violence as if their magnitudes are even remotely similar.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMjqnFKcK/ (her videos are very informative btw)

so why don’t we stop talking about hamas and talk about israel instead? do you condemn israel for the 75 years of occupation and genocide? why don’t we talk about that instead, huh?

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Semifinals

Propaganda why Oscar is insufferable:

"“I want to be famous!” Ok, what for? “Whatever means I don’t have to work.”"

"Selfish, shallow, vain, materialistic, reckless, irresponsible, etc. Doesn't even have an aesthetically pleasing design, he's horrible to look at (like every other character in the movie tbf) so bro has literally 0 redeeming qualities. That one shrimp with the ridiculous sob story should have been the protag instead"

"His entire personality revolves around being shallow and selfish, to the point he sees no issue with lying for his own material gain, in the process shamelessly screwing over his best friend/future girlfriend -- she gave him her grandmother's valuable precious pearl to pay off his debts and get out of trouble, because she cares about him, and instead he fucking gambled it all on a horse race on impulse because he overheard some rando saying the race was rigged and guaranteed to win (surprise, it wasn't). Never really faces appropriate consequences for any of his actions. Gets an undeserved happy ending to top it all off, when really he deserves to suffer a little and learn a lesson.

Also has one of the ugliest anthro-animal designs I've ever seen so he's insufferable to even LOOK at, jesus christ."

Propaganda why Richard Rahl is insufferable:

"The character always, always has to be Right and Moral and Good. He always knows more than: his wife, organized religion, any and all government orders that he didn't set up personally. While he starts out reasonable enough in the first few books, he slowly devolves into the author's Ayn Rand-fantasy stand-in. In every book there's always a huge monologue that's secretly about how bad (fantasy) communism is.

Richard is also hypocritical. He will flip flop on issues and change with the whims of the author, but the narrative always portrays him as in the right no matter the context."

"Protagonist of the most idiotic book series ever, literally wins by sheer dumb luck and being too stupid to plan as the world bends around him. His girlfriend keeps getting kidnapped so he can rescue her, despite allegedly being powerful. He’s a fantasy Ayn Rand follower. He inherited a sword and the Most Powerful Magic Combination Ever which he can’t be trained in because he needs to learn by instinct. Every woman ever falls in love with him or is determined to help him by prophecy. He gets captured and tortured by several bdsm women (author fetish, blatantly) and doesn’t even appreciate it. He gradually seizes more and more control over he world than even his evil tyrant dad, then throughs a fit and runs off into the woods to sulk, leaving them to a violent conquest, when people object to this via voting. He’s inexplicably good at death football. I can keep going."

"Literally the oc in the author’s shitty Ayn Rand fantasy novel. All the women want him, he does magic by instinct. He cannot be trained because he has super rare magic that nobody else has had for millenia. His birth has been prophecied for centuries. Every new book features a new problem only he can solve by being too instinctly good at magic and untrained. He comes up with the Wizard’s Rules of Magic by dumb luck.

In one book he defeats communism and hopelessness by crafting the perfect statue of his girlfriend Kahlan, who is a way cooler character but still a Mary Sue & an idiot. The statue is so cool & beautiful & well made for the joy of making (unlike work under communism), that he sparks a riot and toppled the evil empire. By building a statue."