#unwell about religion

[god-has-entered-my-body]

IF IT WAS YOU THAT MADE MY BODY YOU PROBABLY SHOULDNT HAVE MADE ME ATHEIST

[tsnbrainrot]

are we ready to talk about the way crowley's voice shake and he has to hold back tears when he says 'and we've spent our existence pretending that we weren't' or ???

this has hurt him for 6000 years........

[malhare-archive]

Esoteric religious posting, don't mind me: I find it funny and ironic that the Ars Goetia is the go-to source for those who worship demons, because it's part of the Lesser Key of Solomon and King Solomon claimed that his seal is shielding humankind from being able to physically interact with/talk to demons at all and that he himself was only able to forcibly bind demons to his will using their sigils because God himself gave him permission to

[angeliteria]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

pairings — catholic!fem reader and eddie munson

summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.

warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.

Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.

To you, he was the seventh heaven.

Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.

You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.

But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.

You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.

You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.

And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.

You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.

You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.

“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.

What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!

“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”

“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”

You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.

“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.

“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”

“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”

“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”

“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”

“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”

“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”

You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.

You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.

“Feel better?” Your mother asked.

You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”

Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.

Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”

“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.

“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.

“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”

“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”

“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”

You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”

Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.

“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”

“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.

You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.

And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.

You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.

“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”

“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”

“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”

“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”

“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”

“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”

“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.

“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.

“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”

You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.

“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.

Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.

Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.

His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.

Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.

The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.

Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.

He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.

“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”

“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”

You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.

Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”

You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.

Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.

Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.

You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”

“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”

You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.

You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.

“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.

Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.

Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.

Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.

“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”

“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.

Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.

“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”

Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.

“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.

“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”

You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.

A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Cum?” You repeated.

“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”

You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.

“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.

Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”

You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”

“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”

Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”

“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling in confidence.

Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.

He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.

His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.

“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”

“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.

You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.

Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”

Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.

“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,

“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.

You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.

Oh, you thought to yourself. That.

“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.

You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.

You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.

Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.

“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.

Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.

You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.

Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.

This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.

Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.

You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.

If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?

Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.

A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”

“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”

Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.

You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.

You liked it.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”

Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.

You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.

“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.

You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.

“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”

You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.

You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.

Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.

Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.

Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”

His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.

“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.

Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.

“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”

You groaned, barely remembering it. “Oh fuck!”

[yesimwriting]

False Prophets

A/n was looking through my drafts and decided to let this logan fic leave the vault also fun fact the title is inspired by a line in a gracie abrams song

Summary: After the laboratory that's served as the only home you've ever known is ambushed by those that don't believe in the mission you've dedicated your life to, you're left with no other option but to trust the stranger that helped do so.

Warnings/info: slight allusions to manipulative use of an unspecified religion, reader has a touch of stockholm syndrome bc she was raised by a cult that experiments on mutants, brief mentions/implications of being medically abused by a caretaker, age gap (reader is in their early 20's)

----

The knife is as intangible as everything else. You squeeze the blade's handle regardless, knuckles straining against your skin as you try to force the metal's weight to mean something to you.

How did--how did things turn so quickly? Father Daniel grabbed you by the arm, he dragged you up the stairs and into the above ground. He gave you little instruction and even less explanation.

Protect the cause. That was all he could say before the defiers found you. Things had moved so quickly, your instincts allowing you to neutralize an assailant before--before the world became little more than a nauseating haze.

The pulsing ache behind your skull, the weight of your limbs, the resistance of your lungs, the dark spots clouding your vision. You set a palm against the floor, the coolness of the tile doing little to ground you. It's not unusual for you to feel unwell after over exerting your abilities, but this has been something else.

You need to--to evaluate, to begin the contingency process. Who knows how much time you've lost?

You bend your legs, hand pressing against the ground as you try to stand. A sharp pain immediately latches onto every tendon in your body. You screw your eyes shut. Breathe. Breathe.

A soft creak brings you back to where you are. The handle in front of you begins to twist. The door's pushed open, revealing a man who occupies too much of the doorway for you to consider bolting.

His attention shifts around the small space before settling on you. Everything about the stranger is harsh--his stance, his expression, the blood staining his clothing and skin.

The man takes a step forward. You flinch, head hitting the closet's back wall. He presses his lips together before exhaling. He holds his hands out in front of him as he steps back to where he was before, behind the doorway's threshold. "I'm not going to hurt you."

One of the many lies Father Daniel had warned you about. When you don't respond, the man sighs again. "So drop the knife. You look more likely to hurt yourself with it than me."

The perceived weakness only adds to your mounting unease. You scoff. He may have the physical advantage, but you have something he doesn't. You tilt your head, ignoring the pounding of your skull as you focus on mentally reaching for him. He's easy enough to latch onto, but actually doing anything takes more from you than you'd ever admit.

You take a deep breath, letting your energy build before pushing it onto him. It takes longer than it should, but eventually, your mind finds the strength to obey you. Just as the man's starting to bend to your will, his feet beginning to drag against the floor, your hold on him lapses.

Great--you've revealed your only real advantage and for what. You try to stand a little straighter, eyes landing on the stranger. You stare at him with wide eyes, fear making it difficult to breathe right. Father Daniel has always warned you about what happens to your kind in the real world.

You don't know what you expect from him--anger, horror, something else equally brutal. Instead of displaying any of that, the corner of his mouth briefly pulls itself upwards. "Got it out of your system, kid?"

"I'm not a kid." The raspiness of your own voice surprises you. "Where is he?"

He seems to know what you mean immediately. "The man that held you hostage and experimented on you for what--twenty years?"

Of course that's what he'd believe. "Father Daniel is a visionary with a divine calling, who is doing what he needs to do to pioneer a better future for mutants and humans alike."

"Yeah? Is that why he hasn't let you go outside in two decades?"

You scoff. It's not--the situation isn't like that, and to pretend that things are that black and white is ridiculous. You've been outside. Family outings to the movies after particularly strenuous medical trials, birthdays, and sometimes Christmas. Sure, you're not worldly, but that's the cost your family pays for safety. Until society is no longer cruel to your kind, you're safer in the lab.

If you were feeling a little more like yourself, you'd tell him all of this. But all you can manage is a defensive, "I've been outside."

His eyebrows draw together, something in the look coming terribly close to un-harsh. He doesn't believe you. Whatever. This man's opinions mean nothing to you. The only thing you know about him is that he's one of the ones that decided to invade your home in order to target you and Father Daniel's work.

His eyes drift downwards, landing on the band-aids stuck to your forearms. Some urging part of you wants to explain that things aren't always like this. That your labs and medical trials only make a fraction of your life, that these last few weeks have only been extra uncomfortable because Father Daniel has been getting closer. But the words needed to explain this to a stranger feel so far, and you doubt he'd be able to understand, regardless, so you settle for turning your forearms away from him.

"Congratulations," he mumbles dismissively, attention shifting away from your arms, "You're going again."

"What?" He sighs, as if there's something deeply irritating about the question. He can't--he can't possibly mean to take you from here. You squeeze the knife's handle. "No. I'm not--" Your protests don't impact him in the slightest. "No."

"I know it doesn't seem like it," there's something measured about his gruff assurance, "But you'll be okay if you come with me. I'm taking you to people that want to help you."

You press your a hand against the wall, as if the plaster will offer you a means of escape. "No one like you wants to help someone like me."

He watches you for a moment, something behind his expression becoming a little less fragile. "Someone like me?"

The man takes a measured step forward, crossing the door's threshold. Dread digs into you as your mind tries to reach for him. You've barely touched his energy before a piercing ache in your skull forces the connection to snap. If the stranger noticed your attempt at self defense, he gives no indication of it, taking another step in your direction.

He continues forward, his movements slow and definitive until he's so close you have to tilt your chin upwards to look him in the eye. Like this, his anger feels less...prominent.

After a moment, his eyebrows draw together slightly. If you didn't know any better, you might have mistaken the look for a barely there grimace. The man drops his gaze downwards, and you follow his line of sight.

His hand, the back of his palm--he had been weaponless before. And now, sharp, metal blades have split his skin from the inside out. You lift your chin to meet his gaze. He's not exactly smiling, but there's something gentle about the set of his mouth.

You angle your head downwards again, carefully pulling your free hand away from the wall. You move slowly, holding your arm out between the two of you for a moment before letting your pointer finger touch the edge of one of the blades. In another life, you might've been willing to tell him how cool you find his mutation.

He pulls back immediately, his hand moving away from you as his claws retract back into his skin. "You get it now?"

You press your lips together. Just because he's a mutant doesn't mean he's like you. Very few people understand your family's mission, and he isn't one of them. The fact that he broke in here is proof of that. But the ache in your skull is too disorientating for you to be efficiently hostile, and maybe there's a small chance that the fact he wanted to ease you when he could have easily just attacked you is throwing you slightly.

There is no good answer, so instead, you offer another question, "Where is he?"

"He left." The response is flat. "Ran downstairs and then disappeared."

What? Father Daniel--he left. That's not...that's not part of the contingency plan.

Okay--you let out a breath in an attempt to neutralize your expression. If Father Daniel left, he must have had a reason. There are other things that needed protecting. He'll come back.

You must look as thrown as you feel, because the man sighs. "Do you understand now?" When you don't react, he pauses. "You can stay here--in an abandoned warehouse, or you can come with and--and get some help."

Help. The word digs at you. You're not--not some kind of victim. You were chosen for a higher purpose, your mutation was given to you so that you could help others. However, that doesn't mean that the prospect of staying here, in a now compromised lab, without your family, isn't much more unappealing than leaving with this stranger.

You swallow, ignoring the lump in your throat as you weigh your options. Maybe there's something to remaining within a certain proximity to those that attempted to destroy Father Daniel's work. You could learn about their operations, their goals and desires; then, when the time is right, you'll have information to share with your family. It might not be the simplest task, but it's better than waiting.

This man also knows more about the outside world than you do. You could always just use his offer as a way to get some distance and then bolt once you're somewhere more secure. It might be easier to find Father Daniel from somewhere...out there.

You can't will yourself to look at him as you nod, wounded pride only amplifying your anxiety.

"Okay." His voice gives you no indication of what he thinks of your compliance, but something tells you that he'll be cautious of you for awhile. "You gonna drop the knife?"

The request is spoken so casually, you do briefly consider listening. You've never been much of a physical fighter, and you're sure the stranger could easily overpower you regardless of your small weapon, but you can't bring yourself to let it go. Besides, the stranger gets to have multiple knives physically attached to him. You should get to keep your one.

You briefly lift your chin in a vague gesture towards his hands. "I'll lose mine when you lose yours."

Some aspect of him seems to shift, his brow relaxing and his lips pressing together. The differences are gone too soon for you to dwell on them, his expression returning to its default blankness as he turns. You assume that's the closest thing to an 'okay' that you're getting, so after a beat, you follow him.

----

a/n i was considering adding to it and it lowkey feels like a waste of lore not to, so if you'd like a part 2 lmk!!

[downbadegirltradwife]

Secret Lives of Mormon Wives I have some takes. Whitney is a classic narcissist, loves to play the victim, manipulates and gaslights her 'friends' and cries whenever she's confronted with her shitty, emotionally abusive behaviour. Taylor has made some odd choices for someone raised within that religion but I feel like she's genuinely just a very lost person who seeks comfort from the wrong people. Demi seems like the most emotionally aware and astute woman in the group and she didn't deserve to get vilified for her sex life with a giant box of cereal (iykyk) that was weird and distasteful. Layla is very young and sweet, I'd like to hear more from her about her place in the church as a Black woman. Jen deserves a better husband. Mayci is a girl's girl, I like her energy but I feel like she's a bit of a people pleaser. Mikayla (sp?) is clearly very unwell, I don't know what she's doing on this show. And Jessi is clearly just there to plug her hair styling business, I respect that.

[its-tea-time-darling]

god someone reblogged one of my athelnar posts again and man. can't believe they exist. cannot believe they had the most insane captor and slave to soulmate and "don't leave me, you're the only one i trust. i love you." and "it matters not to me where i am going, what matters to me is where you are going" and "i want you to come home" and lets kneel in front of each other and fucking pray storyline. i just cannot believe it. i cannot believe how they look at each other, athelstan at ragnar like he's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen on earth, ragnar at athelstan like that's everything he has ever wanted right in front of him. may i remind you that athelstan was nailed to a cross and got reunited with christianity yet STILL chose to go back with heathen ragnar, may i remind you that ragnar wanted to be BAPTIZED, choosing spending eternity with athelstan over literally everyone else he's ever held dear? they did not care one flying fuck about the world or religion or customs, what won over everything, literally everything else you can think of was the respective other. every fucking time. they would never have stopped choosing each other again and again and again if floki hadn't put an end to it. they make me so deeply unwell im going to go eat concrete or something.

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Sundown

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Ben shows his true colors

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Oh my god the violence. Violent is here. Im so sorry.

4.4k words

"I can picture every move that a man could make Getting lost in her loving is your first mistake Sundown, you better take care If I find you been creeping 'round my back stairs Sometimes I think it's a sin When I feel like I'm winning, when I'm losing again" ~Sundown, Gordon Lightfoot

Rey always had a way of making things better.

You were sat on the kitchen counter in a loose tank top and baggy shorts that may or may not be Will’s boxers, watching Ray cook for you an Iris. She’d been feeling unwell this morning, no doubt the stress of everything that happened the last few weeks getting to her normally impenetrable facade. You found out she caught the tail end of what Will did to Jonah. Now both of you had watched your fathers die.

But Rey had been emotional support to both of you. You leaned more on your husbands, but Rey gave a sense of normalcy. He was a lot like Ben, making it so you could let go of the guilt that plagued you constantly, clearing your mind of the swirling thoughts of Beatriz and Santiago’s true natures.

Will was safe. Protective and gentle and strong, he continued to dot on you, massaging vitamin c oil into your scars to reduce them now that they could take a little bit of pressure. Your healer, your guardian. You thanked him profusely for protecting you against Jonah’s attempt to rape you, even if parts of you still wished he wasn’t dead.

Francisco was who you were the most honest with. You could tell him how you felt about Santiago and Beatriz, work out your confusing thoughts in soft whispers when you were with only him. Santiago never let Francisco sleep with you anymore at night.  

Walking past you to open the oven, he gave your hand a squeeze, lingering a bit. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it; he just wanted you to feel better. To know he was there. He was better than this place, you knew now. Better than this world.

“Madonna! There you are!” Ben rushes in with Will behind him, reaching for you. “Christ! I was worried!”

You’re a bit shocked, but can’t help sliding into his arms. “What do you mean? I’m right here…”

Ben holds you close, your body pressed against his, skin to skin making you cringe. It wasn’t him, it was the idea of touch lately at all. 

Will clarified. “You said you were going to be in the garden, we were worried when we didn’t see you.”

You try to squirm out of Ben’s arms. His grip is hard and uncomfortable… he’s too close. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just- ow, Ben- I didn’t think I needed to let you know? I never did before… Ben, please-” He’s kissing you now, your cheek, your neck, your lips… you don’t want Rey and Iris to see you like this… You hear Iris say something, but can’t quite make it out.

“That was before. With everything that’s happened, Jonah, the assasination attempt, we need to know where you are, always.” You didn’t like him talking about Jonah in front of Iris. You didn’t like him talking about Jonah in general. You squirm and try to dodge his kisses.

He rubs against the deepest burn on your belly, making you whimper, trying to push him away. Memories of Jonah’s attack flash in your hands, and suddenly he’s pulled off you. You think for a moment it’s Will, but you see Ben’s blonde hair fisted in Iris’s hand.

“She said stop!” Iris yanks him away and horror drops in your stomach. Ben wouldn’t hurt her, no, you didn’t need to worry, Ben was loving, fun, sunshine- He swung, clocking Iris on the jaw.

What happened next was a blur. Reyansh was on Ben is a second, a rage you’d never seen from your sweet guard before, and the two rays of sunshine throwing hands. Reyansh is slammed against the wall and you shout, wanting to run to him but before you even move Will’s hand is on your wrist. You watch two men you love beating on each other, Rey kneeing Ben in the balls and throwing him to the ground where he momentarily had the advantage. Ben, however, gripped Rey’s hair and used the momentum to roll their bodies over so Ben was on top. You’d seen Ben use the same move during sex. 

“WILL! DO SOMETHING!” You scream, watching them hurt each other but Ben with the clear advantage. Still, all he does is hold you back, fingers stroking your hair in an attempt to placate you, but you can’t stand by… still, you can’t get in the middle of a bloody fist fight, especially after watching Jonah die… why couldn’t Will step in when he clearly had the strength to? Ben has the upper hand, and looks like he’s close to killing rey the way Jonah died.

You see Iris make a move to get Ben off him, and Francisco who was previously frozen in shock runs to her. She tried to get out of his grasp, but he simply pushes her away and tackles Ben down. Francisco uses his weight to pin him, using a soothing voice to try and calm the fit. You yank your hand, hand, releasing it from Will’s grasp and painfully pulling on the burnt skin but you needed to get to Rey. Iris pulls his head on her lap, and he spits out some blood onto her dress but gives his girl a weak smile.

“You alright, my love?” He asks her, despite you cleaning blood off his face and her seeming unharmed.

She chuckles, crying but gives him a smile as well. “I’m alright, baby. I’m alright.”

Will is standing above you. You see Ben and Francisco are rising now, Frankie still holding Ben.

“What the hell was that, Saha!”

Rey doesn’t dignify Will with an answer, but you turn to him, giving a little bite to your tone. 

“He was defending his girl, Will. You’d done the same for me.”

“Madonna…” He warning in a stern voice, one that made you feel like a child being admonished by a house mother again. “He is a guardsmen, sworn to protect us, not throw punch-”

You looked up at him again, snapping. “He hit Iris!”

Ben chimed in with a ‘She hurt me first!’ but Will ignored him. “She involved herself in something she had no business to.”

“But Ben!-” You were cut off my Iris whispering your name. Her eyes were fearful… and you realize they held the same glint as when you caught her and Ben together… She mouthed, ‘don’t.’

Your eyes never leave hers. “Well, she’s my friend and he’s my personal guard so she’s under my protection.”

Fracicsco’s arms pull you, careful not to touch your sensitive parts. He’s telling you to go, but you worry for Rey and Iris.

“Will, you can’t hurt them, please?”

“I’m not-”

“But you are!” You pull at Francisco’s hand. “You are, because they hurt Ben but please! Don’t!”

Will sighs, shoulders relaxing down as he decides not to lie. “Madonna, they have to be punished. I promise it won’t be harsh.” His blue eyes look remorseful and honest, like he’s resigned to his duties. You trust he wouldn’t be unnecessarily cruel and you knew punishment was important in corrections… but this was Rey and Iris, your friends… Rey, who had only ever loved and protected you. Iris, despite everything, she took care of you. 

This time when you pull your arm Francisco lets go, and you rush to Will. You reach for his face, cupping it as you stare into his eyes. Will’s expression was soft, indulgent. He was listening. “Look at him, Will.” You gesture to where Reyansh still bloodied Iris’s skirts. “They both got hit, and Rey took enough for both, don’t you think?”

He seemed sympathetic to the pain Rey was in. “That’s the natural consequence of a fight, Madonna. I need to punish them properly, according to our rules.”

Tears fill your eyes and you hear Ben grumble, Francisco shushing him. “My husband, my love…” You beg him in choked words. You try to appeal to his sense of ownership over Rey and the guards. “He’s your guard, and someone hurt him… can’t we just call it even? Please?”

“No, Madonna.”

Rey coughs from the ground below you, trying to sit up. “I can take it, Will. Just don’t hurt Iris.”

With that, Will’s face shifts. This pulls at something and you take it. “He was just trying to protect her! You’d do the same if anyone hit me, Will, please you killed a man for me, you killed Melanie for me, I know you understand…” You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles that were still healing for beating Jonah to death. “Please… there's been so much pain here this week… I promise, I promise they learned.”

Ben must've seen Will considering, because he spoke. “Don’t let them get away with it, that bitch put her hands on me!”

His language shocked you, never hearing him talk like that, and Francisco saw the look in your eyes. “Will, c’mon… I think his nose is broken… and Iris just lost her dad… Madonna is under a lot of stress, don’t give her more.”

Finally, Will sighs despite Ben’s protests. He walks over to where Iris and Rey sit and helps them both up. “Go.” He says to Iris. “You can use my medicine closet. Patch him up. I expect him back on duty tonight.”

“Will! What the hell!” Ben shouts but you run up to Will, giving him a short peck on the cheek and whispering thank you.

Will tells Ben to fuck off, and goes to unlock his medicine for Reyansh. Iris turns and gives you a smile. 

“You just like to touch everyone but me, don’t you?” Ben’s words shock you back to reality.

“What? Ben… it’s not…” You reach for Francisco’s hand for security as he admonishes Ben, but he continues.

“You kiss Will, and I see you holding Saha’s hand, and now Frankie? But don’t think I’ve noticed you havn’t fucked me!”

“Benjamin!” Francisco shouts as you shrink at Ben’s words. He’s never spoken to you like this, and you don’t think you’ve ever even seen him angry, certainly not at you. “She’s had a traumatic months for fucks sake! Between Santi and Jonah can you go without pussy for a few fucking days?”

“I don’t know Frank, can you go without Santi’s dick in your ass for more than a few days?”

For the next several minutes, the two argued, exchanging heated words and painful secrets. You’d learned Francisco fucks Santiago every night, and the dark spots on his neck were from the husband who’d burned you alive. You learned Ben was sleeping with half of delta still. You learned there was a whole word that existed between the four of them that not only happened before you, but existed outside of you. You thought you were the nucleus holding them together. Instead, you were just the meal they feasted on.

*

You were finally well enough for him to take you on the horse, a careful walk, out to your meadows again. By now, you were too big to straddle him with his cock inside you and your skin and belly couldn’t bear his body against you. So, as you watched him set up the blanket, you knew you’d miss the feeling of napping in the warm sun with his cock stretching you.

“C’mere, baby.” Francisco helps you sit and then lay down, pulling you close with you using his meaty arm as a pillow.

“I miss you.” You mutter, and he kisses your neck.

His hand holds your stomach, feeling your baby kick. “I’m right here”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

There was silence for a moment, letting the birds sing and breeze below through the rustling grass. It was so nice out, and you were thankful for your skimpy dress. You are reminded of all the times you laid here, endless hours making him flower crowns, braiding the little ones into his hair, kissing him, napping… all while he’s stuffed inside you, your skirt spread around your thighs. How many times has Jonah seen you like this? Had he watched from the trees as you fucked in languid strokes, not even trying to cum but just to feel him bucking into you? 

Or when Santiago had tripped you, burning your cothes off, fucking you by the fire… had Jonah stood and watched? Had he taken in the view, his own pornography, before helping you? Or when Francisco finger fucked you on the horse, had he savored your sweet sounds and memorized them for nights alone with his fist? How long had he wanted you? How long had he taken even innocent moments and turned them into something vile? 

You felt Francisco’s hard cock nestled between your ass cheeks, and by instinct you scoot away just a tiny bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry Madonna I’m not trying too- I don’t know why-”

“It’s okay.” No one had been inside you since Jonah’s attempt, you barely let them touch you… but you had to trust Francisco, right? He was good. He was so, so good. “It’s… it’s okay…”

The feeling of him shaking his head russells your hair. “No, no love, it’s not…” He’s pulling back from you and you miss the warmth of his body so you reach back and grab him. 

“I miss you…” You choke out. “I miss feeling you inside me… I miss you… please? I want you so bad, Francisco.”

“Baby…” He caresses you cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve been through a lot…”

“And I don’t want it to change us. Santiago, Jonah… I won’t let them tear us apart…”

He kisses the back of your head. “They won’t. I won’t ever let that happen. You are more important than them.”

It slips out before you can stop. “Am I more important than Ben?”

“I love you.”

You don’t have it in you to press further, instead you arch your back so that your ass brushes against his cock in his pants. “So much has happened… I need this… I need to know you still love me.”

He sighs, stating firmly. “I do love you…” but he moved to unbuckle his pants. You wished you could see him, you wished you could see the way his belly folded over his jeans. You wished you could run your hands over the skin and feel the hair on his chest. But you weren’t ready for that. Instead you just relaxed into his arms, relaxed into him, his safety, his protection. When he pushes your skirt up, his hands are large over your asscheeks and you enjoy feeling covered by him. When he slides in, your body makes room for the familiar feeling.

“Do you want me to make love to you? Or do you just want me inside?”

“Make love, please…”

A gentle kiss on the cheek. “Anything for you.”

*

Sliding inside you once again, Frankie felt a homecoming. He loved the long hours you and him would spend here, cumming inside you multiple times but keeping you plugged up with his cum. He wished he hadn’t wasted so much time getting inside you properly, loving you the way you wanted to… he would have knocked you up first if he’d been going at this rate… but now, the odds weren’t in his favor.

Frankie revelled in the sound of your mewling, soft and tender like a little kitten… his to protect. As he slowly thrust into you, he vowed he wouldn’t let anyon hurt you again. He needed to talk to Ben, to Will… he needed them to get on board. You clearly cared for Iris and Rey and they cared for you, so he needed to make sure they were protected. Ben had been sneaking out more, going into the community to presumably fuck some other young niave thing… but a rule had been laid about Iris. The fact she was fucking him had been out of her character anyway, but it was over now.

Ben needed to stop sleeping with everyone he could get his hands on, and he needed to respect Madonna’s personal space and boundaries. He was not entitled to her body, especially after all this happened.

Looking up the hill and into the trees, Francisco saw Ben. He stood tall, a scowl on his face; he didn’t like that he got to be inside you.

Francisco sped up his movements, fucking up into you and making you cry out in pleasure. You were unaware of your audience. He never let up eye contact as he rammed his cock into your core and pressed you close to him. His hands felt you up, showing Ben what he was missing. Sitting atop his horse, Francisco watched as Benjamin pulled out his dick and began stroking himself furiously. It was a scramble after that, Frankie wanting you to cum before Ben did, to ruin his little show but still show off what Frankie could do, the sounds you could make. 

“Francisco…” You whine, and he buries his face in your neck after checking your eyes were still closed, lost in pleasure.

“I’m right here, Madonna. Always right here…” His longer fingers swirled your clit, and he knew you were close by the way you were clenching down hard. Perfect, you were perfect. Your body shook in his arms as he filled you, the sweet sounds of your orgasm echoing through the meadow valleys and hills and up to Ben’s ears. Francisco didn’t see if he came; he didn’t care anymore. He needed to take care of his Madonna, for suddenly you were crying.

“I wish it was you.” You sob into his sleeved up arm. He was thankful today didn’t require undressing. He didn’t want to have to explain the cuts. 

“What do you-”

“The baby! I wish it was yours!”

He brushes a stray lock out of your face as he attempts to sooth you. “May it is… we don’t know…”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “It’s Will or Bens. I just know it. Those first months, you barely touched me, and after I fail the first time Santiago only touched me once a night!” The way you had switched from Pope to Santiago was not lost on him. “It’s one of them!”

“Is that a bad thing? They’ll love that baby too, just like I will.”

“SANTIAGO WILL KILL ME!”

You explained yourself then, what Santi said. How he threatened you. You had one job, according to him, and that was to get pregnant. It wasn’t suppossed to matter if it was by the Millers, by Santi or himself… but of course, of course Santi had to fuck with you more, because it isn’t really about the savior for Santi.

It’s about Frankie.

*

It had been a few days and Rey’s face looked awful. He had definitely broken his nose, bruising showing deeply despite his brown skin. 

“I’m fine, swear to the gods.” He promises after catching you staring at his face. 

“Your eye is almost swollen shut.”

“Like I said, totally fine.” he jokes and you give him a little kick from where you sat on the counter. Iris was feeling sick so Rey and you were taking over cooking dinner. The pineapple upside down cake was in the oven, and Rey was working on the main dish right now. 

He watched you watching him, hesitating before he spoke, his tone more sololm than you were used to. “If you could leave… would you?” He watches your eyes go wide, so he rushed to explain more. “You’re pregnant with the savior, there's nothing that says he needs to be raised here! You told me yourself, Beatriz was evil, Santi… sweetie c’mon he threatened you if the baby is blonde! What if he kills the savior when they are born?”

“Rey!” You whisper harshly. “You’re talking heresy!” Your eyes are wide.

He chuckles tiredly. “We crossed that line a while ago… Listen… I know you love that baby, I know you want them to grow up safe and happy but that can’t be here. You’re husbands, they are batship insane and you know it.”

“No.” You shake your head, refusing to accept it. “No, it’s just… Santi, I think he needs help… I can help him, I can make him a better-”

Reyansh grips your shoulders now, an intensity you weren’t expecting. “No! You can’t! It's not just you, you have to realize that. He didn’t hurt you because you did anything wrong. You take off Frankie’s shirt right now and you’ll see a fucking masscure because he’s fucking losing it! He’s dangerous! And Ben, he-”

 Reyansh stops, voice cracking and you notice the wetness of his eyes. The pain is etched into every line on his young face. “He rapes my wife. My beautiful, precious wife- he… and I didn’t know, this whole time I had no idea what he’s been doing to her…” You can see he’s crying now, and you’re frozen in fear, reaching for his wet face. “I just let it happen this whole time but now I know the truth, and it’s not happening again and I can’t bear to see you get hurt again. I’m gonna get her out, and I want you to come. I don’t want to leave you here but… I have to protect my family. I want that family to mean you too, anuja.”

There was so much to process here, your mind was whirling from everything you were told, but the idea of Iris and Ben… Did you walk in on her being raped by your husband? Had Ben truly tried to get you in on it, to kiss and touch her while she was raped? To make you an accomplice in his crimes? You think of how she looked at you… fuck, how could you not see it? How did you think she was willingly a part of it when it was clear she loved Reyansh? And you treated her so horrible after…

“I’m gonna be sick.” 

Your head spins, and Rey wraps his arms around to set your feet on the floor again. The hand that gently touched his wet, bearded cheek now was on his shoulder to steady yourself as he slid you down from the counter. His arms firm but chaste around you as he pressed against the marble.

“Hey take a deep breath-” His face was ripped away from you, eyes wide as Rey was pulled back by his hair. Then, before you can react, his already bruised head is slammed into the corner of the countertop.

He begins screaming and you do too. 

You can see Santiago in the doorway, but he makes no attempt to stop the events unfolding in front of you, does nothing as Ben grabs the kitchen knife and throws it directly into Reyansh’s chest where he lay in agony. The scene has begun to garner a crowd, Frankie running in at the sounds of your screams but freezes in shock as blood files the kitchen once again.

“BEN! STOP!!!” You scream, but Ben’s eyes are crazed and he’s screaming at Rey not to touch you.

You aren’t sure the exact moment his eyes go dead and body falls limp, no longer reacting to the mass of stabs Ben continues to inflict, but you know it’s already too late when Iris bursts in, screaming her lover’s name. When she runs to where Ben is slowing down, straddling over your best friend’s dead body, Francisco reacts quickly, scooping her up and grabbing Iris’s arms behind her back. 

“REY! REY! REY!” Iris screams non stop, fighting to get out of Francisco’s grasp as he tells her it’s too dangerous. 

Finally, Ben falls over, panting in exhaustion. He throws up on the floor and you realize he’s drunk. The smells of vomit mixes with copper in the the room as the fluids run together. You are barely standing, knees weak, palms sweaty, unable to process what you’ve seen as Ben stands up and stumbles towards you. Will is in the room now, taking it all in, muttering ‘jesus christ Benny… what did you do…’

But walks towards you, a bright smile of white teeth a strange flash of color among the red covering his face. Red. He’s covered in Reyansh’s blood.

“Hey baby, wanna give me a kiss?”

Ben is pulled away from you.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Francisco screams to him and you slide to the ground.

“He was touching her!” Ben tries to defend, but francisco is infuriated. He shoved Ben away, moving him to the door. On the ground, Iris is desperately trying to get Rey to come alive. The shakes, the touches to his face, the wretched sobs and ugly cries do nothing as he lays limp in her arms.

“FUCK YOU BENNY! HE WAS HER FRIEND! HE WAS MINE!” Francisco shoves him hard, making Ben stumble into Santiago.

Will steps up, gathering his fist in Francisco’s shirt. “Hey! Keep your fucking hands off him!” In which Santiago steps in and says something similar to Will. They begin to argue and fight and scream at each other; you are left on the floor, inconsequential. When you have the courage to look at Rey’s mangled corpse again, you gather the courage to crawl to him. Up close, the carnage in unbelievable.

There are massive gashes in him, holes in his body you can’t believe he had the strength and rage to go that hard into so many times. A stabwound in his eye.  A hole in his cheek.

“Rey…” You sob, reaching out for your bloodied friend. The door shuts behind you and you aren’t sure whose left. “Im so sorry, I’m so, so-”

Iris shoves you backwards, forcing you to fall softly on your butt. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” She screams at you, and you sit in shock. She’s never spoken to you like this.

“Iris-”

“I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WERE DANGEROUS TERRITORY!”

Francisco’s arms are around you, a feeling you’d recognize instantly. “I D-didn’t- I did mean-”

“You NEVER DO!” Her eyes are vicious, a fury that far surpassed anything you’ve ever seen in your life. “You are so goddamn stupid, walzing around here like you live in  FUCKING FARIE TALE and leave a trail of dead bodies behind you! You dad, Jonah, and now YOU HAD TO GET MY REY KILLED!”

You are speechless. She’s right. Everything is your fault. Jonah said your dad just wanted a better life for you… was that drive the reason the uprising started? Was the death of him, Deacon Tom, Delilah and all the rebels your fault? She had said she didn’t blame you for Jonah… but now her voice joins the chores of everyone else in your life… it was all your fault.

Francisco picks you up.

I'm so sorry

Months and months ago while constructing this story, I had a friend i was working on it a lot with. She had a big hand in creating Iris and Rey. The entire time, before it was entirely planned out even, I knew he was going to die. I knew there was no happy ending to be had for Iris and Reyansh. And that made some scenes very hard too write. Rey didn't deserve any of it. He was a good man who loved his "wife." (not legally married bc cult stuff but in all the ways that matter, they were.)

There is no going back from this now. Madonna is shown who Ben and Santi are.

The last poll i fucked up! It was suppossed to be who does BEN love most lol

Save the children (which has absolutely nothing to do with QAnon who hijacked their hashtag) our currently supporting relief efforts in the Congo above our listed some quick facts that I hope you’ll take a moment to read, and if you can afford it, please consider making a donation. I have made a small one, but if we band together small donations make a difference

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LOVE YOU ALL!

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[nightcolorz]

I know you are not home (home being the internet) but you can answer when you are back

(hey! if you are reading this, welcome back!)

Anyway I've been thinking lately about Marius's handling of Daniel when he was "sick" (crazy) and what it says about him and his core values

Specifically:

Not informing Armand that Daniel was unwell and with him

And

Not tolerating Daniel's choice of creative outlet fully, namely not letting him use recycling and assorted objects to build his little cities and making him use only mass produced packs

I think both things are very telling of who Marius is as a person, he doesn't see Daniel and Armand's relationship as something valuable, he is blindsided when they get back together (which happens basically the second they are allowed the privacy to have a full conversation) and he doesn't think what Daniel is doing with his models as real art

I can't help but think he made sure Armand and Daniel didn't have contact those years because he knew if they did they would both abandon him, but he told himself (and maybe even believed that he was doing it to protect them both out of love)

He thinks love equals control and that love can not exist without hierarchy and subservience

Thoughts?

It took me so long to answer this bcus I have massive thoughts!

I think the way that Marius treats Daniel and Armand when it comes to their creative outlets is rlly interesting and telling and I’m so happy u brought that up. I’ve always gotten the impression that Marius is kind of pretentious about art. He has the whole “control = love” mentality and I think that’s plays into what he thinks art is/means. The way that Marius creates is by making exact replicas of real life or pre existing paintings with his vampire mimicking skills. So his art always comes off as very detailed and fascinating but also impersonal and in some way artificial. When he ends up accidentally inserting parts of himself into his work (like painting pandora into his piece when he’s thinking of her) he considers it in error and erases it. I get the impression that Marius considers art more the act of possessing smth preexisting and making it in his own image, taking control over it by immortalizing it, rather then expressing a part of himself or reflecting on some meaning.

he sort of pushes that perspective onto Daniel when hes under his care by making him use store bought items to create his models instead of letting him delve into his mind to sort through some creativity and make smth of his own. Marius likely thinks that by allowing Daniel to only build things in this specific correct way he is both teaching Daniel how to correctly make art and he is also controlling daniel and any kind of narrative that may be happening by restricting Daniel by exploring any of his self or emotions that Marius doesn’t have a say over. Daniel can’t delve into his “crazy” mind to create if Marius controls what he is creating, and I think Marius sees this as a good thing. The less access Daniel has to his sense of self the less likely he’ll go “mad” (and the less likely Marius won’t be able to keep him docile anymore)

when it comes to Armand, when Armand was a child he was very artistically skilled and inclined. He was so religious and faith meant sm to him that he only drew religious icons, which caused him to be taken advantage of and exploited by figures in his community. When he is sexually assaulted and sold into slavery he represses his childhood memories and his ability to paint. painting becomes traumatically triggering for Armand, and reminds him of how he feels like he’s lost his faith and connection to god bcus of what’s happened to him, and he refuses to do it. Instead of trying to encourage Armand to recontextualize his relationship with art and to use it as an outlet to regain his identity Marius instead takes advantage of the opportunity he sees of Armand being a blank slate and pushes his own views of religion and art onto him as to replace to old ones. I know Marius had good intentions there, and was probably like “by giving Armand a more positive view of this he will be less terrified”, but what he ends up doing is further depriving a slave child from his cultural identity and religious values by teaching him that his faith is the wrong type of faith and he should consume art the way marius does. Marius is once again asserting his control over someone in his care’s capacity for creativity by making sure his perspective is the one that is dominating the creation.

The way I see it, as an artist Marius understands the power of art and creation and knows that to keep his “love = control so these dudes I love need to be under my control” mentality he needs to limit how his loved ones r able to engage with their own creativity so that they aren’t tapping into a level of independence that is beyond Marius’s power.

I think this is also exactly why he limits Armand’s ability to interact with Daniel while he’s “sick”. Armand and daniels relationship is such a hurricane and Marius definitely knows that if he puts those two in the same room they r a force that he can’t push around to his will. But I think Marius is definitely telling himself that he’s separating Armand and Daniel bcus Armand is a mentally ill unstable lunatic who will ruin daniels brain and Daniel is too fragile to deal with that. I also think that since Armand and daniels relationship doesn’t follow this master and apprentice dynamic and is instead this emotional colorful hot mess crazy kid combo who can’t keep there hands off each other and r addicted to each others blood that it’s therefore Bad and Irresponsible (it is but it’s better then whatever Marius thinks is correct 💀) so he needs to be the big parent and protect them from themselves (keep them reliant on him so that they don’t leave him)

thnak u for the ask this is all so interesting !!

[magpigment]

like this is him. to me. him and the weylins make me so ill. to be loved is to be changed, and i don’t think he knows the difference between love and hatred- or worse, indifference.

thoughts about gabriel w religious trauma? thoughts? thoughts? thoughts?

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 47

chapter 72:

1. “The day of Marlene's memorial is the first time Dorcas decides she's going to kill herself.” oh shit, oh fuck wait

2. bro dorcas is unwell. like holy shit. i forget that the war started because of dorcas’ love for marlene. like. this is just as much of a dorlene fic too

3. dear god i wanna help dorcas so badly

4. call it instinct, but i knew dorcas’ hair would be a crucial part of her healing journey 💃🏼💃🏼

5. i love well rounded female characters but at what cost. dorcas is well rounded but at what cost? she’s suffering and it hurts to read

6. god damn. finding out that dorcas’ mom was in charge of a quarterly quell is fucking insane. considering that dorcas all but ran the resistance

7. “”You said it first, didn't you? There are no good people in war. I lived by those words, did you know that? All that you were wrong about, but that…" She gives a brittle laugh. "You were right about that."”

foaming at the mouth oh my god. i wanna chomp glass

8. DORCAS NO! (she started drinking fyi)

9. dear god dorcas, you aren’t the only one who knew the “real” marlene. people other than you loved her.

10. dorcas finally admitting that if she could choose someone other than dorcas it would be lily hurts. especially since lily has mary.

11. “Marlene was the love of her life, and that's it. Simple as that. She'll never love another.” OWWWWW

12. “She will make sure Lily never knows that Dorcas looks at her now and thinks before this life, it could have been us; maybe in some other life, it is. And that's more than enough.”

DNDNSMMSJSKEJNS AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

13. brb i’m sobbing

okay i’m back. dorcas just found out marlene was gonna propose and now i’m a sniveling mess

14. so much thanks to bizzarestars making the effort to learn about the way war vets healed and dealt with ptsd

chapter 73:

1. sirius having an emotional support dog >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

2. also imma make predictions now: this is the chapter where sirius goes home. it’s time

3. YES YES YES YES THEYRE GOING HOME FUCK YEAH

4. “A homely little home with a porch-swing under the stars. Sirius is homesick for that, too.”

this is my dream too. like it’s been my dream for so long. i can’t even fathom how sirius isn’t bawling like a baby over this. IM bawling like a baby over THEIR porch swing

5. regulus saw sirius and was willing to risk it all just to hug him omg

6. “Barty was the sort of person who needed no outside guidance into being a bit insane.” LMAOOOOOO

7. they’re running a business together and they’re gonna do it forever and now i want to gnaw on wood and glass and plastic and anything i can get my hands on

8. lmao not sirius sitting like a spoiled puppy dog as james and regulus argue over him for the wedding

9. “"Oh, please," James scoffs, rolling his eyes. "One, I'm not stealing your brother away from you, and you know it. Two, who the fuck else would be my best man, hm? Who? Go on."

"Oh, you want to go there?!" Regulus shouts. "What about me? Yeah, didn't think about that, did you? My best friend is dead. Oh, and so is Barty. Who do I have, James? Hm?"”

FUCKING CACKLING

10. awwwww sirius’ compromise is so sweet omg. i’d literally cry if i was james and regulus

11. ugh gay people are so confusing. like you’re allowed to be freinds with the same people and freinds with any gender. so like, it makes wedding planning so hard. who goes on who’s side? what if i said that when i found out about gay people, my biggest hold up wasn’t religion or anything like that, but instead wedding side logistics

12. canonical genderqueer tonks!!!!!!!!!

13. regulus went to aberforth to cause a scene, and damn if he didn’t succeed

14. damn they’re both stubborn. and both got their way jfc

15. full circle. dorcas is designing their wedding clothes. i’m losing my mind, actually

16. the bookshelf. the fucking bookshelf from the first arena. i’m losing my mind oh my god

17. CACKLING OMG. REGULUS WAS WORRIED THAT JAMES WOULD BE SCARED OF THE DAGGERS, BUT INSTEAD HE GOT SO FUCKING TURNED ON OMG

18. STILL FUCKING CACKLING OMG

19. i didn’t know i needed insecure james, but oh i did

20. i get to read the crimson rivers jegulus wedding and oh my fucking god i’m losing it. i am so unbelievably happy

21. “For him, it's easiest to show love when it's a tragedy.”

dksjdjjsjdjsmdjske holy shit

22. “You're hesitating, love."”

AHDHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

23. “You might wish to know a lot of things about their wedding, and their love, but frankly, it's no one's business but theirs.” so feral over this. that’s literally one of the biggest themes of the story omg i love this

24. hi, anyways, i am so unwell

25. the authors notes about the wedding are golden

[posallys]

all right here is my word vomit live watch

IMMEDIATELY i am slapped in the face by toby stephens as poseidon i am FERAL

THE LUKE AND PERCY PARALLEL “LOOK, YOU DIDN’T WANT TO BE A HALFBLOOD” OH MY FUCKING GOD

THE MISSING LUKE AND PERCY TRAINING SCENES OH DEAR LORD THANK YOU THANK YOU

“When am i ever going to use this” percy i LOVE YOU

“So you can use them against your opponent” OH BOY

Finally some action i love a good sword fight

But where's annabeths necklace imma kill people

Ooh some god strength okay okay tasty

HELL YEAH POSEIDON POWERS FUCK HIS SHIT UPPPPPP 

“I WARNED YOU. IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL, YOU'LL FIND OUT WHO I AM” OH I LOVE THE ENERGY YESSSS FUCK YEAH

GO OFFF PERCY 

“AND YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST A KID”

Ares didn't curse him i hate it here

OH WHAT IS THAT VOICE

OH MY GOD THE CABIN SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

this can go one of two ways

“Violent seismic activity” MMM YUMMY

UH HULLO THIS IS NOT WHAT I EXPECTED ALECTO!???

I lied there was a secret 3rd way this could have gone and it happened 

OOP THERE’S THE NECKLACE

“Where's the glory in that” wow tell me you don't understand Percy's character without telling me you don't understand Percy's character 

“I don't have an appointment” THATS SO FUCKING ICONIC OF HIM

Wait i kind of fuck with this olympus i was picture all white and pristine but this FUCKS

“SHOULDN'T THEY BE JUST AS AFRAID OF US AS WE ARE OF THEM” OH MY FUCKING GOD. OH MY GOD. HOLY SHIT 

“you're learning fast” OH MY GODDDDDDDDD

“Things that are small and scary….” BROOOOOOOOOOOO

the show has rights for the luke and percy content and posally and percabeth and that's IT

LANCE REDDICK ❤️❤️❤️ greatest of all time rest in peace ❤️ (you'll always be Cedric daniels to me)

Ohhh king he does a bad ass zeus

Where's poseidon though DONT TAKE HIM FROM ME 😭😭😭

Lance ily

Lance reddick zeus you're perfect to ME

OHHHHH YES GOOD SHIT

percy jackson king of audacity 

AGHHHHHJJJDHH POSEIDON I LOVE YOU BRIAN BROMEN OH FUCK YES IM. SNKDKKWKWJFKMQ3LI4HRND IM VIBRATING NRJNW OHMYGID

IM THROWING UP OH MY GOD

“I SURRENDER” OH BROTHER DO I HAVE THOUGHTS THOUGHTS TOO MANY THOUGHTS FUCKKKKK

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDD IM GOING TO PUKE

TOBY STEPHENS LOVE OF MY LIFE

I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE UNWELL IN MY ENTIRE LIFE

SHUT UP NOBODY TOUCH ME

“OBEDIENCE DOESNT COME NATURALLY TO YOU DOES IT” ohhhhhhhh brother call me an ambulance 

“I must take some of the blame i suppose” so you CAN read the books you just chose not to for the other 7 episodes….

THE SEA DOES NOT LIKE TO BE RESTRAINED FUCK YEAHHHHHB BROTHER

HIM ONLY UNDERSTANDING THE WORD FATHER IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF IM SOBBING 

POSEIDON SMILE IM DYING 

I DIDN'T LEARN IT FROM CHIRON AND THEN POSEIDONS FACE OH FUCK IM PUKING SHAKING CRYING

IM SO SO SO UNWELL IM LITERALLY INCOHERENT 

“Ares is a moron, as you noticed” STOP I LOVE HIM THERES THAT ASSHAT POSEIDON ENERGY IM LOOKING FOR

“of course we dream, why do you ask” “DO YOU EVER DREAM ABOUT MOM” I AM DEAD I DIED I ASCENDED IM FLOATING LEVITATING FLYING OH DEAR LORD OH MY GOD IM SO SO SO ILL

TOBY STEPHENS THE MAN THAT YOU ARE POSEIDON THE MAN THAT YOU ARE OH MY GOD HIM GOLDING PERCYS HEA DIM VIMITING SHITING MYSELF KILLING DYING DEAD DJFICJJWOKDKDJN FUCK ME FUCK FICK

TOBY TOBY TOBY YOURE PERFECTVTHE PAIN THE FACIAL EXPTESSUINNS IM DYING DEAD

THE PEARL KILL KILL KJAJDJWKKDJJDJDUEJJ2NH3H

I AM HYPERVENTILATING 

Not to be greedy BUT WHERE IS THE QUEEN AMING WOMEN WHERE THE FUCK WAS IT YOU CANNOT GIVE ME ALL OF THAT AND THEN NOT GIVE ME THE MOST FUCKING ICONIC LINE OF ALL TIME WHAT THE ACTUAL ABSOLUTE FUCK I AM GOING THROUGH SO MANY EMOTIONS WHATBTHEFUCK

there's still 20 minutes left taylor breathe it can still happen 

PERCABETH HUG MY RELIGION

annabeth luke percy trio is SOOOOO interesting to me

I hate percy knowing :( ur a bit too perceptive buddy but it's okay 

“I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D GIVE THEM TO GROVER TO WEAR” SHOOT ME IT WOULD PROBABLY FEEL ABOUT THE SAME

THE GODS ARE MY ENEMY, YOU IM HERE TO RECRUIT OHHHHH BROTHER

OH HELLO BACKBITER LORE OKAY

LUKE I GET YOU I UNDERSTAND

I MET YOUR DAD *SLASH* OH THEY GOT HIM THEY GOT HIM GOOD

LUKE PERCY FIGHT MY EYES HAVE BEEN BLESSED IN THIS DAY

PERCY APOLOGIZING HONEY UR TOO SWEET

ANNABETH OH FUCK OH HELLO

So tell me what are the plans for ttc now lol

I HEARD EVERYTHING ANNABETH HONEY COME HERE I NEED TO HUG YOU

I must ask….where the FUCK was this energy the rest of the season this episode is literally so insane it almost makes up for the rest of everything

“How does she feel abt all of this” ooh yummy i like the foreshadowing 

“I imagine she's thrilled” WRONG thalia would stomp freddy chases head in if given the chance

LEAH UR BRAIDS ARE GORGEOUS

stop percy had HEART EYES 24/7 FOR HER IM GOING TO COMBUST

“JUST BE A KID” IM SOBBING

THE SEARCHERS LICENSE IM CRYING SOBBING UR PERFECT GROVER 

“I'LL FIND YOU” FORESHADDDDDDDOWWWINGGGGGGGG

“NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS WE MEET BACK HERE NEXT YEAR”, OH I LOVE THEM IM CRYING SOBBING OH MY BABIES

MONTAUK IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF FUCK DUDE U CANT DO THIS 

i want poseidon to be there i know he wont be but i NEED it

Stop honey percy ilyyyyy you're such a sweetheart im kissing ur forehead and tucking u in

OH HELLO “IT'S TIME TO WAKE UP” WOOOOAHHHHHHHH OKAY

“WE'RE STILL DOING THIS” LMFAOOOOO

“TURNS OUT IM PRETTY GOOD AT THIS….COME FIND ME” CRAZY 

……MOTHERFUCKER if they dont show gabe dying im gonna riot

WHERE WAS THE REST OF MY POSALLY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 YOU CAN'T GIVE ME SOME AND THEN TAKE AWAY THE LITTLE FROM THE BOOKS

WHERE IS SALLY MURDERING GABE HELLO

AHHH END SCENE LOL AH THE BOX

THE IMPLICATION THAT IT WAS ALL POSEIDON……..WHAT IF I DIE OH MY GOD

[women-of-malevolent]

META - Unnamed Elderly Woman

I’ve been informed that the author mentioned in a Reddit Q&A one month ago that he wants to redo this part because it’s in poor taste. I agree, and it’d probably be good to get on that; the show is currently four-plus years into its planned six-year run. Whenever is better than never.

Here’s everything we get about this character.

So, what does she do? She unsettlingly laughs at J&A in the hallway, and doesn’t respond to their questions; she retches in her home; she lives in filthy squalor; she crawls on the floor when she’s not in her wheelchair.

This is depicted as a supernatural terror, instead of, say, a mentally ill old woman having a medical emergency. Arthur’s concern for her humanity is “proven” to be naive by the fact that her home is filthy and she crawls towards him (after he lets himself into her home).

It’s, ironically, pretty reminiscent of original Lovecraft!

Lovecraft’s primary target of ire was usually racial Others, but he did occasionally hit old women with the dehumanization ray, too. I’m not deeply familiar with Lovecraft’s work itself, so I did a quick Google search of Lovecraft + “old woman”.

Pop quiz: Malevolent or H.P. Lovecraft? I’ve mixed up the names, tenses, and POV.

1) The portrait looked grotesque; time and a fair amount of dampness had bloated a portrait of a young lady. Her hollow eyes sagged, and her face looked as though the skin hung off in loose strands.

2) I know she’s the one who frightened us in the slums. Her bent back, long nose, and shrivelled chin are unmistakable, and her shapeless brown garments are like those I remember. The expression on her face is one of hideous malevolence and exultation.

3) There was a much older woman holding a baby, sat cross-legged by the fire. She looked… grotesque. Her skin hung loose and sagging, as if ancient. Her hair was long and gray. She was naked. She had gone mad. Percival knew he needed to help the child she was rocking back and forth in her arms.

4) As once before, the hideous crone seized Percival by the shoulders, yanking him out of bed and into empty space. Again the infinitude of the shrieking twilight abysses flashed past him, but in another second he thought he was in a dark, muddy, unknown alley of fetid odors, with the rotting walls of ancient houses towering up on every hand.

Answers:

1) Malevolent, Part 7

2) Dreams of Witch House, HP Lovecraft

3) Malevolent, Part 2

4) Dreams of Witch House, HP Lovecraft

The pall hanging over Lovecraft’s legacy wasn’t just, "Racial minorities are inappropriate targets for dehumanization, so as long as we avoid that, we’ve fixed it." There shouldn’t be any appropriate targets for dehumanization, and that ought to include old women – even when they’re unkempt, unwell, practicing unfamiliar religions, and/or violent. They're still people with thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

[theknightstemplar]

thinking again about cletienne being THE last truly human knight left in the templarate after isilud died and meliadoul left. im clinging to that imagery like a port in a storm; i think cletienne is also the only fully antagonistic templar we see whose pure devotion to the church is spelled out for us aside from of course isilud (everyone else is a demons after all)

wiegraf, delita, and barich were in it for themselves-- loffrey and folmarv's devotion can be argued-- but cletienne is called out by the game's text for his faith. man.

cletienne looking into the empty husks of men he grew up admiring and believing them. why wouldn't he? why would he believe ramza, the man who killed good old Cardinal Delacroix?

None of this is to woobify him though. being the woobie templar is isilud's job! but... cletienne is so unwell that his faith and his loyalty blind him to the fact that with his whole chest he's telling meliadoul that he means to help manifest her father's will in resurrecting their master and sees nothing wrong with folmarv being a demon (ajora willed it!) nor attacking the literal pope of his own religion

[mostlyintact]

Hello, people!

Thank you for stopping by, and here's all the necessary things I could think of to share:

Name - You can call me Ave (rhymed with save) Pronouns - She/Her Age - I am in my early 20s From - South Asia, born and raised

Dni - I received an ask about it a while back, and I am just going to copy and paste my response to it.

Hmm, age is not an issue but please inform me of it if you are a minor and we happen to talk one-on-one. Most of the times, I check the accounts and take my cues regarding that. While there's nothing in particular that might be inappropriate about our conversation otherwise, if I am the elder in the scenario I have more responsibility towards ensuring everyone's welfare.

As for beliefs, any sort of homophobic, transphobic, ableist, anti-Islamic, antisemitic and any other hateful belief towards people based on things like religion, ethnicity, race, sexuality, gender-identity etc. is unwelcome. So, if you feel you fall in these categories well, there's a block button and I have no qualms about using it.

Lastly, ai things (while I am figuring out how I feel). I don't have very favorable opinions of it. And I think if I am going to be on your dash in any capacity, you should know it. (In the same vein, if you find I reblogged ai art or stolen art let me know!)

But the biggest one is, don't interact if you are just going to be mean for no reason.

Edit - I realize it might not be most comfortable thing to ask minors to acknowledge they are minors (even if I don't have any nefarious plots). But also, I don't want to end up having an inappropriate conversation even incidentally... I am opening the floor, whether if you are of any age if there are topics or boundaries which you wish to establish regarding conversations just throw it at me. I would not mind it. (I am not particularly interested in making people cough out their ages, but I also do have a habit to flirt with my friends. So, it's a bit tricky).

Now for the next part I have racked my brain to figure out how to do it. And my last two brain cells suggested I do this, here's to hoping it works:

Currently into - SFTH SRK (and movies, but then I fear I would always be into him so. My dedicated I am unwell about him blog is @amdone)

Things I liked but couldn't place anywhere else - Heartstopper RWRB Bridgerton

Sitcoms I watched and liked - Brooklyn Nine-Nine The Good Place (hmm, that's all I can recall. I am not as big on them.)

Thai-dramas I watched and liked - Full House Bad Buddy (yes, it's been a while since I traversed those lands and finished watching anything. But my watch later list flourishes because of them!)

C-dramas I watched and liked - Love o2o CQL (I was into mdzs fandom alright) (It's a short list, I haven't finished watching any C-drama in a hot minute. Since after Empress Ki (which was a pain))

K-dramas I watched and liked - No Gain No Love A Shop for Killers Beyond Evil (I might be able to list more on here. Hmm, let's see. Descendants of the Sun, W, Healer, Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo, Business Proposal, Extraordinary You, The Devil Judge, Doom at Your Service, Cafe Minamdang, Shopaholic Louis, The Smile Has Left Your Eyes, Marry My Husband, Tale of the Nine Tailed etc.)

Pak-dramas I watched and liked - Dobara Ishq Zahenaseeb Hum Kahan Ke Sachay Thay Ishq E Laa Zara Yaad Kar Pyar Ke Sadqay (and more, but these are the ones that came to me first.)

(Just for shit and giggles) Indian Soaps I watched (and liked? It's hard to decide having grown up with them) - IPK JA Jamai Raja KKB Swaragini Naamkaran Udaan IB (and DBO) YRHPK KHKT YRKKH (guess which gen) BALH BALH2

(Bonus) Only Turkish drama I watched and finished - Aşk Laftan Anlamaz

Things I do fandom lurking for (but source material is far from me) - HP/Marauders (been 'Rowling' while since I revisited the source material) Marvel DC Kiseki: Dear to me (and more.)

You can always send asks or messages (even if we have never interacted before), but I do hold the right to not respond if you are being rude.

Books I read and liked - Under construction

Games I played and liked - Under construction

YT/OTT Things - Under construction

Music - Please don't make me do this

[vulpinesaint]

i don't have to be unwell about religion anymore i got into crochet