#and just victor is victor is i assume he knows about claude's feelings but what is this compared to all the other sins he is committing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

readjthompson · 6 months

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Happy Halloween, people. Here’s an all-new short story (© me, now), free to read.

Bayou Ma’am

by Jeremy Thompson

“Those bitches!” Claude exclaims. “Those lyin’, stinkin’, blue ballin’ whores! Makin’ us the butts of their jokes! Gettin’ us laughed at by everyone! We oughta find ’em and stomp their fuckin’ skulls in!”

“And how would we even do that?” I respond, focusin’ on my composure, compactin’ the shame and heartbreak I now feel into a teeny, tiny ball that I’ll soon entomb in my mind’s deeper recesses. “They said they’re flyin’ back to New York City tonight, to that precious little SoHo loft they wouldn’t stop braggin’ about. They wouldn’t have done what they did if they thought we might see ’em again.”

Andre says nothin’, unable to take his eyes from the iPhone he manipulates, alternatin’ between the Instagram profiles of two hipster sisters, to better appraise our debasement.

#bayoumen is the hashtag they affixed to photos they’d taken with us just a coupla hours prior, at the one bar this town possesses, which we fellas have yet to leave. They’d flirted and led us on, allowin’ me to buy ’em drink after drink and believe that maybe, just maybe, one or more of us would be blessed with a bit of rich girl pussy for a few minutes…or twenty. They’ve got relatives in the area, they claimed, and had just attended one’s funeral. Some black sheep aunt of theirs. A real nobody.

Finally, Andre breaks his silence. “Look at this, right here. They used some kinda special effect to give me yellow snaggleteeth. I go to the dentist religiously. Look at these veneers.”

Barin’ his teeth, he reveals a mouthful of perfect, blindin’-white dental porcelain.

“Yeah, and they made Claude’s eyes way closer together than they really are and gave ’im a unibrow,” I say. “And they gave me a neckbeard and a fiddle. Look pretty real, don’t they?”

“Look at all the likes they’re gettin’. Thousands already. Everyone’s crackin’ jokes on us, callin’ us inbreds and Victor Crowleys, whatever that means. Look, that bitch Marissa just replied to someone’s comment. ‘Those bayou gumps were so cringe, we’re lucky we didn’t end up in their gumbo,’ she wrote. Fuck this. I’mma give ’er a piece of my mind.” A few minutes later, after much furious typin’, Andre adds, “Well, now she’s blocked me. Probably never woulda told us their real names if they knew that we’re on social media.”

Indeed, outlanders often make offensive assumptions when learnin’ of our bayou lifestyles. Hearin’ of our tarpaper shacks, they assume that we do naught but wallow in our own filth every day and smoke pounds of meth. Earnin’ a livin’ catchin’ shrimps, crabs, and crawfishes doesn’t appeal to ’em. They’d rather work indoors, if they even work at all. Solitude brings ’em no peace whatsoever. They care nothin’ for lullabies sung by frogs and crickets. Ya know, maybe they’re soulless.

I wave the bartender over and pay our tab. Nearly three days’ earnings down the drain. “Let’s get outta here, fellas,” I say. “It’s time for somethin’ stronger. There’s blueberry moonshine I’ve been savin’ at my place. It’ll drown our sorrows in no time.”

“Your place, huh,” says Claude. “We ain’t partied there in a minute.”

* * *

The roar of my airboat’s engine—as I navigate brackish water, ever grippin’ the control lever, passin’ between Spanish moss-bedecked cypresses that loom impassively, fog-rooted—makes conversation a chore. Still, seated before me, Andre and Claude shout back and forth.

“Bayou men aren’t fuckin’ rapists!” hollers Claude. “We’re not cannibals neither! I can whip up a crawfish boil better than anything those stuck-up cunts’ve ever tasted!”

“Damn straight!” responds Andre. “Bayou men are hard-workin’, God-fearin’, free folk! If they should be scared of anyone around these parts, it’s Bayou Ma’am!”

“Bayou Ma’am?!” I shout, as if that moniker is new to my ears. “Who the hell’s that…some kinda hooker?!”

“Hooker, nah!” attests Claude. “She’s a…whaddaya call it…hybrid! Half human, half alligator, mean as Satan his own self!”

“I heard that a gator was attackin’ a woman one night!” adds Andre. “Then a flyin’ saucer swooped down from the sky and grabbed ’em both wit’ its tractor beam! Somehow, the beam melded the gator and his meal together all grotesque-like! The aliens saw what they’d done and wanted none of it, so they abandoned Bayou Ma’am and flew elsewhere!”

“I heard toxic chemicals got spilt somewhere around here and some poor teenager swam right through ’em!” Claude contests. “She was pregnant at the time! A few months later, Bayou Ma’am chewed her way right on outta her!”

“Damn, that’s fucked up!” I shout, well aware of the grim reality lurkin’ behind their tall tales.

* * *

Bayou Ma’am is my cousin, you see. As a matter of fact, she was born just seven months after I was, in a shack half a mile down the river from mine. Her mom, my Aunt Emma, died in childbirth—couldn’t stop bleedin’, I heard. Maybe if they’d visited an obstetrician, things would’ve gone otherwise.

My aunt and uncle were reclusive sorts, and no one but them and my parents had known of her pregnancy. There aren’t many residences this far from town, and none are close together. It’s easy to disappear from the world, to eschew supermarkets and restaurants and consume local wildlife exclusively. Uncle Enoch buried Aunt Emma in a private ceremony and kept their daughter’s existence a secret from everyone but my mom and dad. Even I didn’t meet her until we were both four.

One day, a pair of strangers shuffled into my shack—which, of course, belonged to my parents in those days, up ’til they moved to Juneau, Alaska when I was sixteen, for no good reason I could see.

“This is your Uncle Enoch,” my dad told me, indicatin’ a goateed, scrawny scowler. “And that’s his daughter, your cousin Lea.”

Though itchy and bedraggled, though dressed in one of Uncle Enoch’s old t-shirts that had been refashioned into a crude dress, Lea sure was a cutie. Her eyes were the best shade of sky blue I’ve ever seen and her hair was all golden ringlets. Shyly, she waved to me with the hand she wasn’t usin’ to scratch her neck.

The two of ’em soon became our regular visitors. I never took to my perpetually pinch-faced Uncle Enoch, with his persecution complex and conspiracy theories shapin’ his every voiced syllable. Lea, on the other hand, I couldn’t help but be charmed by. She had such a sunny disposition, such full-hearted character, that I was always carried away by the games her inquisitive, inventive mind conjured. Leavin’ our parents to their serious, sunless discussions, we hurled ourselves into the vibrant outdoors and surrendered to our impish natures.

“I’m a hawk, you’re a squirrel!” declared Lea. Outstretchin’ her arms, she voiced ear-shreddin’ screeches, and chased me around ’til we both collapsed, gigglin’. “Whoever collects the most spider lilies wins!” she next decided. “The loser becomes a spider! A great, big, gooey one! Yuck!”

We skipped stones and spied on animals, learned to dance, cartwheel and swim. We played hide-and-seek often, with whichever one of us was “it” allowed to forfeit the game by whistlin’ a special tune we’d improvised. It was durin’ one such game that Lea made a friend.

“I’m comin’ to get you!” I shouted, after closin’ my eyes and countin’ to fifty. Our environs bein’ so rich in hiding spots, expectin’ a lengthy hunt, I was most disappointed to find my cousin within just a few minutes. There she was, at the river’s edge. Behind her, towerin’ cypress trees seemed to sprout from their inverted, ripplin’ doppelgangers. So, too, did Lea seem unnaturally bound to her watery reflection, until I stepped a bit closer and exclaimed, “Get away from there, quickly! That’s a gator you’re pettin’!”

Indeed, we’d both been warned, many times, to avoid the bayou’s more dangerous critters. Black bears and bobcats were said to roam about these parts, though we’d seen neither hide nor hair of ’em. Snakes flitted about the periphery, never lingerin’ long in our sights. We’d seen plenty of gators swimmin’ and lazin’ about, though. As long as we kept our distance and avoided feedin’ ’em, they’d leave us alone, we’d been told.

“Oh, it’s just a little one!” Lea argued, scoopin’ the creature into her arms and plantin’ a smooch on his head. “A cutie-patootie, friendly boy. I’m gonna call ’im Mr. Kissy Kiss.”

I studied the fella. Nearly a foot in length, he was armored in scales, dark with yellow stripes. Fascinated by his eyes, with their vertical pupils and autumn-shaded irises, I stepped a bit closer. Mr. Kissy Kiss’ mouth opened and closed, displayin’ dozens of pointy teeth, as Lea stroked him.

“Well, I guess he does seem kinda nice,” I admitted. “I wonder where his parents are.”

“Maybe his mommy and daddy went to heaven, and are singin’ with the angels,” said Lea.

“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” I mockingly singsonged.

Suddenly, a strident shout met our ears: my mother callin’ us in for lunch. Carefully, Lea deposited Mr. Kissy Kiss onto the shoreline. He then crawled into the water—never to return, I assumed.

Boy, was I wrong. A few days later, I found Lea again riverside, feedin’ the little gator a dozen snails she’d collected—crunch, crunch, crunch. A week after that, he strutted up to my cousin with a bouquet of purple petunias in his clenched teeth.

“Ooh, are these for me?” Lea cooed, retrievin’ the flowers and tuckin’ one behind her ear. “I love you so much, little dearie,” she added, strokin’ her beloved until his tail began waggin’.

Their visits continued for a coupla months, until mean ol’ Uncle Enoch caught us at the riverside as we attempted to teach Mr. Kissy Kiss to fetch. Oh, how the man pitched a fit then.

“No daughter of mine’ll be gator meat!” he shouted. “Sure, he’s nice enough now, but these bastards grow a foot every year! By the time he’s eleven feet long and weighs half a ton, you’re be nothin’ but a big mound of shit he left behind.” Seizing Lea by the arm, my uncle then dragged her away.

When next we did meet, a few days later, my cousin wasted no time in leadin’ me back to the riverside. “Where are you, Mr. Kissy Kiss?” she wailed, until the little gator swam from the shadows to greet her. Sweepin’ him into her arms, she said. “Let’s run away together, right this minute, so that we’ll never be apart.”

“Oh, that’s not such a great idea,” a buzzin’ voice contested. “Little girls go missin’ all the time and their fates are far from enviable.”

“Who said that?” I demanded, draggin’ my gaze all ’cross the bayou.

“’Tis I, Lord Mosquito,” was the answer that accompanied the alightin’ of the largest bloodsucker I’ve ever seen. Its legs were longer than my arms were back then. Iridescent were its cerulean scales, glimmerin’ in the sun.

“Mosquitos don’t talk,” I protested.

“They do when they were the Muck Witch’s familiar. Now she’s dead and I’m free to fly where I might.”

“I ain’t never hearda no Muck Witch.”

“And she never heard of you. That’s the way of southern recluses. Still, such is the great woman’s power that she grants wishes even now, from the other side of death. The Muck Witch’ll ensure that you never part with your precious pet, little Lea, just so long as you follow me to her grave and ask her with proper courtesy.”

Well, I’d been warned about witches and the deceitfulness of their favors, so I attempted to drag Lea back to my shack, away from the bizarre insect. But the girl fought me most ferociously, clawin’ flesh from my face, so I ran for my parents and uncle instead.

By the time the four of us returned to the riverside, neither girl nor gator nor mosquito could be sighted. We searched the bayou for hours, shriekin’ Lea’s name, to no avail.

A few weeks later, after we hadn’t seen the fella for a while, my parents dragged me to my uncle’s shack, so that we might suss out his state of mind and offer him a bit of comfort.

“I found her,” Uncle Enoch attested, usherin’ us into his livin’ room, which was now occupied by a large, transparent tank.

Atop its screen lid, facin’ downward, were dome lamps that emanated heat and UVB lightin’ from their specialized bulbs. Silica sand and rocks spanned its bottom, beneath a bathtub’s wortha water. At one end of the tank, boulders protruded from the agua. Upon ’em rested a terrible figure. If not for the recognizable t-shirt she wore, I’d never have surmised her identity.

“Luh…Lea?” I gasped. “What in the world has become of ya?”

Indeed, though Lea had wished to always be with her beloved gator, I doubt that she’d desired for the creature to be merged with her, to be incorporated into Lea’s very physicality. Patches of scales were distributed here and there across her exposed flesh. Her beautiful blue eyes remained, but her nose and mouth had stretched into an alligator’s wide snout, filled with many conical teeth. And let’s not forget her long, brawny tail.

After our initial shock abated and dozens of unanswerable questions were voiced, my parents took me home. Never again did they return to my uncle’s shack, but a dim sense of familial obligation had me comin’ back every coupla weeks, to feed Lea local muskrats and opossums I’d captured, and help my uncle change her tank’s shitty water.

The years went by, and Lea moved into a succession of larger tanks. Eventually, she grew big enough to wear her mother’s old dresses, seemin’ to favor those with floral patterns.

Finally, just a coupla months ago, I arrived at the shack to find Lea’s tank shattered. Torn clothin’ and scattered bloodstains were all that remained of Uncle Enoch, and my cousin was nowhere to be seen.

Not long after that, the Bayou Ma’am sightings began, which vitalized increasingly outlandish rumors and the occasional drunken search party. Luckily, no one has managed to photograph or film Lea yet, as far as I know.

* * *

At any rate, back in the present, I cut the airboat’s engine, leavin’ us driftin’ along our twilight current. It takes a moment for our arrested momentum to register with Claude and Andre, then both are bellowin’, askin’ me what the fuck’s goin’ on.

Rather than voice bullshit answers, I whistle the special tune my cousin and I improvised all those years ago, again and again, to ensure that I’m heard.

Moments later, Lea bursts up from the water, wearin’ a floral dress that had once been red-with-white-lilies, before the bayou muck spoiled it. In the fadin’ light, blurred by her own velocity, she could be mistaken for a primeval relic, a time-lost dinosaur of a species hitherto unknown. But, as her nickname had been so freshly upon their lips, both of my passengers, nearly synchronized, cry out, “Bayou Ma’am!”

Whatever the fellas might’ve said next is swallowed by their shrieks, as Lea tackles Andre out of his passenger seat while simultaneously swattin’ Claude across the face with her tail. The latter’s nose and mouth implode, spillin’ gore down his shirt.

Attemptin’ to gouge out Lea’s eyes as she and he roll across the deck, Andre instead loses both of his hands to her snappin’ teeth. Blood fountains from his new wrist stumps as he falls unconscious.

Claude tries to dive off the side of my airboat, but Lea’s powerful mouth has already seized him by the leg, its grip nigh unbreakable. She begins shakin’ her head—left to right, right to left—until Claude’s entire right calf muscle is torn away and swallowed.

“Ah, God, that hurts!” he shouts. His eyes meet mine and he begs, “Help me! Kill the bitch!”

“Sorry,” I respond, comfortably perched in the driver seat, an audience of one, watchin’ Lea’s teeth tear through the fella’s arm, as his free hand slaps her snout.

After Lea’s mouth closes around Claude’s skull, my friend’s struggles finally cease. Not much is left of him now. All of his thoughts and feelings have surely evanesced.

Groggily, Andre returns to consciousness, only to find himself helpless as Lea tears away his pants and consumes his right leg, then his left. She takes special delight in dinin’ on his genitals, as is evidenced by her waggin’ tail.

Blood loss carries Claude’s soul away, even as Lea moves onto his abdomen.

* * *

I’ll miss Claude and Andre. Friends aren’t easily attained in the bayou and they were the best ones I’ve ever had. All of the memories we made together will be carried only by me now. When I’m gone, it’ll be as if those events never happened.

Perhaps I should say a prayer as I push what little is left of their corpses into the dark river, but all I can think to say is, “Farewell, cousin,” as Lea swims away, glutted. Does she even care that I sacrificed chummy companionship to help keep her existence unknown?

It’s tough as hell to fight a rumor, but I’m sure gonna try. I’ll say that Claude and Andre hitchhiked to Tijuana, cravin’ a bit of prostituta. No need to further enflame the Bayou Ma’am seekers. If many more of ’em disappear, it’s sure to spell trouble for Lea.

Perhaps my cousin’ll be captured one day, for display or dissection. Or maybe I’ll discover the Muck Witch’s grave and attempt to wish Lea back to normal. Is Lord Mosquito still alive? If so, can it be persuaded to help?

Whatever the case, I wasn’t lyin’ about that blueberry moonshine earlier. Lickety-split, I’ll be drinkin’ my way into slumberland, and therein escape familial obligation for a while.

#horror fiction #indie author #am writing #indie #horror #horror stories #horror reads #short stories #short story #free short story #free story #october #october horror #halloween #halloween story #autumn #scary stories #happy halloween #Jeremy Thompson

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amaidasfairassummer · 7 months

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{x} “If it makes you feel be- they WHAT?!”

Silver brows furrowed, mouth agape, head tilted & pale turquoise eyes were wide when she confessed that to him, he did not even think to maintain the illusion of still being human to blink for an entire 30 seconds of stunned silence as he processed some of the most jarring words he had ever heard in his life.

“Give me a second,” he scoffed, flicking his phone from his pocket with an ease that most people probably wouldn’t expect from a man born in the 1400s.

“Prince Claude Frollo. How can I help you, darling?” a smarmy English accent sung.

“Ew. I still do not know why Chernabog & yourself did that to me. Push the damn Dreamboys runs back, please.”

“Who did you eat?”

“I will see you in two hours King De Vil,” he scoffed back, hanging up as a very familiar voice said “Tell Joanna I’m glad she came to her fucking senses, boss!” from the echoing background.

Then his gaze turned to her again & he pushed away a lock of silver hair away from his eyes before he forced himself to move closer with a deep inhale.

“Well. They were wrong, Cakepop. Either that or very very stupid. However I luckily passed my bar exam,” he quipped, before chuckling softly at her question.

“To myself in particular lemon frosting. Hence your nickname,” he answered, scratching at the back of his head.

His reaction to what Joanna hadn't realised would be such a significant fact alarmed her a little. What was so surprising?

She stood, waiting as Claude spoke on the phone, and heard Victor's remark with a little amusement. "Have I come to my senses?" She asked Claude, genuinely wondering whether that was what had happened. It didn't feel like it.

Once she would have objected, assumed he was being disingenuous either in flattery or mockery. But she was beginning to know him a little better. His quip about his bar exam made her smile, even if she couldn't quite restrain a small shake of her head. She wasn't exactly easy to love. They weren't wrong. Or stupid. "It's not a big deal. Maybe it's just that... they saw me differently to you." It was still strange though, one moment he seemed to think so much of her, and then the next, so little, then it would flip again... It would take some getting used to.

"What were you going to say? To make me feel better?"

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jeweled-blue-eyes · 3 years

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It makes sense that some nobles would jump at a chance to betray Claude. I have seen people argue it doesn’t, but here are my thoughts:

1. First of all Claude had a mixed background. His dad being the Emperor and his mom being a commoner. Nobles are very proud of being of pure noble blood. If a commoner/bastard Emperor managed to “steal” the throne of the true heir they’d feel threatened in their own position. They’d think: “could this happen to me one day as well? Could one of my fathers countless bastards steal my inheritance, my status and everything I stand for?”. I imagine during Claude’s whole reign there were nobles who didn’t like him particulary because he was the living example of their worst fear come true. Of course they side with the Emperor who has the stronger claim.

2. The history is always written by the victors. There are probably many people who doubted that Anastacius was ever a tyrant or practiced black magic since Claude never bothered to show proof of that (remember nobody knew about Jennette). He just struck a sword in his brothers guts and claimed he killed a tyrant. Nobody could question that or oppose him anymore since the fratricide made him heir by default. If I remember correctly even Athy found it tyranical of Claude to have killed his own brother and doubted him.

Second: there are people who simply don’t care if Anastacius is a cold-blooded murderer (?) or not, as long as they benefit through an alliance with him. Like in the election for the pope where everyone knew the game was rigged but nobody said something against it cause hey, they got money!

3. There is no protocol what to do when the legitimate heir comes back to life. Like it or not Anastacius has the stronger claim: he is the older brother, he is 100% of noble blood, his father being the Emperor and his mother being the Empress. He wasn’t born out of wedlock like Claude was. And he has the name “immortality” attached to him, that is only meant for the true heir. Assuming people in the Obelian empire are religious, they’d believe the revival of their former emperor is a sign from heaven.

4. The head of the Alpheus’ backes Anastacius up. They are the next most powerful instance in the empire. Some nobles would naturally trust in duke Alpheus’ judgement. Because there’s a reason why this family is second in power only next to the royal family.

I have seen people argue that the nobility should call this treason, because they think Alpheus should side with the emperor (Claude), but honestly, duke Alpheus reaction would make sense? Imagine if the heir of a noble family goes on a journey but never comes back and is believed to be dead. His younger brother inherits the wealth and lives comfortably. And after 10 years the oldest comes back, but he isn’t dead. He’d have the right to claim his inheritance back.

(I know we are dealing with an abnormal scenario since Anastacius was “dead”, but as I said there’s no protocol. Nobody could have seen this coming. Picking either side can be valid depending on your argumentation. And sometimes nobles don’t give a shit about logic because they are greedy, power-hungry fools.)

5. Claude IS a tyrant.

The cambridge dictionary defines tyrant as: “a ruler who has unlimited power over people, and uses it unfairly and cruelly”

There are countless examples: the massacre in the Ruby Palace, the attempted murder of his own child, him constantly threatening people because of Athy. Would you rather give the throne to an attempted child & proven mass murderer or someone who only attemped to kill (1) person, his brother, who actually is a criminal anyway, and he didn’t even succeeded in killing him?

The black magic argument doesn’t even count, because both brothers canonically practiced black magic. Both broke this taboo for different reasons. But that doesn’t even matter because black magic is generally forbidden.

It’s not a choice between right and wrong for the nobles. It’s a choice between pest and cholera. Tyrant vs tyrant. Basically the lesser evil. It’s also a choice between “what benefits ME the most”? And in between there are Athy & Jennette caught up in their family drama.

#I like Claude #but he's awful #and the narrative tries to paint him as the good guy #even though the massacre of the Ruby Palace is RIGHT THERE #anyway both brothers are tyrants #it runs in the family™#WMMAP #who made me a princess #sbapod #suddenly became a princess one day #claude de alger obelia #anastacius de alger obelia #thoughts & ramblings

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felswritingfire · 3 years

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Can we get some Tezcatlipoca's scenarios with female reader?? Please 🙏🏻💕

OMG THIS IS LATE AF BUT, I HAVE IT I HAVE THE GOODS NOW

I decided to go with a jealous Tez scenario because I was in the mood to write someone being jealous lmao

ah, a warning (I guess??) it gets a bit suggestive at the end but like, of course it is ksjlkfjd

Just send in an ask if you want me to continue~

Also the song I based this off of!

youtube

Tezcatlipoca x Female! Reader

Baby, I’m Jealous

How annoying.

Tezcatlipoca had seated himself in the corner of the club, swirling the drink in his hand (he had honestly forgotten what he got- something simple- perhaps a whiskey on the rocks (it was hard to tell with the multicolored lights). He could feel the thrum of music beneath his feet, traveling up his new body and he vaguely marveled at how intricate the Crafters had made this new body of his. He even picked out some of the lyrics to the music that was blaring from the speakers:

...Baby, I’m jealous/ Of the pictures that you like/ Baby, I’m jealous/ Of the girls with lighter eyes/ Baby, I’m jealous…

He’s tempted to snort at the words. How fitting for it to play at this particular moment: when he’s watching you mingle with friends, that you happened to know at the club you dragged him to. He didn’t mind the club atmosphere- no, if anything, he revelled in it. It reminded him of the battlefield, chaotic in its energy and the heat of warm bodies pressing together. It was an environment that Tez could revel in. He wasn’t even bothered about you chatting away with this little group.

What he wasn’t thrilled about, was how one of your… friends was clinging and looking at you. It was the way he would look at you- the way he would touch and tease you- something more than platonic feelings lingering in her actions.

A touchy girlfriend? Maybe. But Tez had learned to trust his instincts from years of wars and this was no different.

He could feel his teeth ache in anticipation for a fight, his claws clinking at the glass of the square cup. He wanted to rip her to shreds already. He took a sip of his drink, letting it smooth over his tongue before gulping it down, basking in the burn.

Not yet… Not yet.

My apologies/ For looking at your history/ I’m trying/ To let it go/ Baby, I’m jealous…

Tez felt a spark of something smug and haughty flare behind his ribs at the way you turned and waved to him, even despite the flashing purple and blue lights he could still see the happy gleam in your eyes as you gestured to him. The feeling only grew as the girl leaned back, from her position where she was hanging off of your arm, to look at him with round eyes and a firm frown. He raised his cup, his narrowed eyes never leaving the girls.

She scowled, her raised brows drawing into an angry v.

His brow twitched. Not expecting her to react- assuming that she’d stand down when she saw his hulking form- most people did. And that was his first mistake.

That chick/ Can’t be that chick/ Baby, I’m a bad bitch/ If he fiendin’ he’ll probably get catfished…

The glass almost broke in his grip from how hard he was holding the drink, his fur on end and the feathers of his wings fluffing up as he watched her lean against you, whispering in something in your ear that had you flushing a red and laughing as you turned away from her. He could taste copper as she turned back to him with a smirk- something ugly and mean, bordering on a sneer- on her face.

Before he realized it, he felt his lips curl into a viscous smile, all fangs and gum. Downing the last of his drink and slamming it down onto the counter, climbing to his feet and stretching out his body. He could feel the eyes on him- feel the way the others around him stared in awe of his hulking form- he especially payed attention to the way that her face seemed to pale in realization that she might have bitten off more than she could chew.

And she did. She truly did.

I’m not being spiteful, but he’s trash/ Won’t be the last/ To let you know, But he’s gon show you/ Baby I’m jealous…

He strode towards you, easily making his way through the crowd. He could feel the airy excitement bubble in his gut when you saw him making his way over, the gleam back in your eyes. His wings twitched at the attention, his tail lazily swishing behind him by the time he got to the group you were with.

“Tez!” You beamed, even with you yelling he could barely hear your voice. “These are my friends that I met at one of Claude’s parties! I was just talking about you.”

He smiles at them and nods. They all wave to him, all good natured-like and sweet; except for one. The girl, who was looking sicker and sicker the longer she stared at him. He feigned a look of worry, tilting his head to the side, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “Are you feeling alright, girl? You look a little… sick.” He remarked, the rumble of his voice easily cutting through the music.

Baby, I’m jealous/ (hoo, I’m jealous)/ And I know it ain’t right/ (you lied to me)/ But I’m jealous/ (aha)/ Jealous/ (ya,ya,ya)/ The jealous kind...

The group she came with looking at her and, with varying degrees of worry, asked her if she was alright. She nodded trying to wave off the look on her face a few moments ago, her eyes glaring at Tez’s. He had to swallow the urge to smile at her again. Instead, he nodded with a “that’s good” before leaning down and brushing his fangs against the shell of your ear, his gaze remaining steady with hers, as he whispered: “let’s go somewhere a tad more private, my World.” A claw tracing down your spines until he stopped and rested his hands on your waist.

You feel a shiver shoot down your spine, your thighs quivering and the space between your legs growing slick. You lick your lips before turning to the group. “I think we’re gonna head off- see you guys later!”

Tez let out a laugh at how eager you were, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the back of the club, listening to the chorus of (yelled) goodbye. He threw a look over his shoulder: the girl was standing there, her eyes a raging inferno of swirling rage and longing, her teeth digging into her bottom lip- she looks like she’s about to cry as she was swallowed by the crowd.

The smile that crosses his face is one that belongs to a victor: self satisfying and monstrous.

Even as you pull him into the bathroom and slip into a stall together, he can’t seem to wipe it off his face as he runs his hands over your curves and breasts.

I’m jealous of her/ Need ya number/ (b-baby, I’m)/ She doesn’t love ya/ Boy, lemme show ya/ (b-baby, I’m jealous).

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chaotic-academics · 4 years

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Consider this me asking you about the Holy Grail and the Priory of Sion. What’s up. What’s happening. What do we need to know. Give us the tea.

Alright, folks. Sit down and listen up, because I’m about to teach you a thing.

Lots of people have heard of the Holy Grail (Monty Python, anyone?), but if someone were to ask you “What is the Holy Grail anyway?” would you be able to answer? Or give a “best guess”? Perhaps. But probably not. See, most people, if asked, would give the reasonable response that the Holy Grail is probably the cup that Jesus Christ allegedly drank out of at the Last Supper (if you do not know Christianity or its history, the Last Supper is the meal Jesus ate with his disciples just before he was crucified). Possible. Probable, even.

But, there is another theory. Sangréal (san-graal) is Old French for “Holy Grail,” better known now as “sangreal.” In the 15th century, though, an English writer named John Hardyng moved some letters around to create the new phrase,”sang real.” This translates to “royal blood,” and put an entirely new spin on the phrase, and implying that the Holy Grail is not, in fact, a cup, but a person.

If you were to research the New Testament canonization, you would see that it was done entirely by the early Catholic church who is infamous for having an agenda. In the 4th century AD, the Roman emperor Constantine, a pagan worshiper of the sun god, Sol Invictus, made Christianity the official religion of Rome. Why? It was a political move to essentially back the winning team. He saw how Christianity was spreading, and wanted to be on the winning side of history. In order to make his fellow pagan worshipers more open to the idea of Christianity, he began to combine traditions. For example, one thing he changed was making Sunday the day of rest, rather than the traditional Sabbath day (Saturday). Sun-day. See it?

That was a bit irrelevant, but I felt like you should know that, because it is relevant to how the Catholic church has always been. The New Testament (NT) was canonized essentially by one man: Athanasius, the Bishop of Alexandria.The Catholic church at the time (not to say that it has much changed) was run entirely by men with an agenda, like I said. So, any books of the NT that they didn’t like, they omitted. While only 4 gospels are included in our canonized Bibles (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), there were many more written and excluded from the Bible. One, in fact, was written by Mary Magdalene, the so-called prostitute friend of Jesus.

Mary Magdalene was known by Jesus’ other disciples as his “favorite.” The disciples asked in this book how Jesus could prefer a woman to them, and how He loved Mary more than He loved them. Why? Jesus may not have been the bachelor that many assume Him to be. He may have been married to Mary Magdalene. He may have had a child. The Holy Grail would then not be a chalice, but the descendants of Jesus Christ.

Now, the Priory of Sion. The Priory of Sion is an alleged group created by the Catholic church to protect its interests and to carry out good deeds. They are known, though, for being the ones to guard the secret of the Holy Grail. Historically, they would have been major proponents of the arts, and some famously suspected members include Victor Hugo, Sandro Botticelli, Claude Debussy, Isaac Newton, and last but certainly not least, Leonardo DaVinci. These all would have been people who knew the secret of the Holy Grail.

One of Davinci’s most famous pieces of art is The Last Supper, which depicts Jesus at a table with His disciples. More important, perhaps, than the artwork itself is a bit that so many people have looked over for so long. There is a woman in the painting.

Sitting on Jesus’ right is a woman. See her? No?

Better? Mary Magdalene. There is so much more I could say about the sacred feminine here, but this post is already excessively long, so kudos to you if you’ve gotten this far. If you care to hear about the sacred feminine, just ask. Clearly I like to talk. Basically, if you haven’t picked up what I’m putting down, is that it is highly probable that DaVinci would have been a part of the Priory of Sion, and had he been, he would have known the secret of the Holy Grail and that Jesus may have been married to Mary Magdalene. Thus, the Holy Grail may be wandering the halls of a monastery or something as I write this.

Anyway. Feel free to ask questions, add on, or debate! This is all just speculation that I am relaying. I’m not even sure how much of it I believe, but I find it fascinating nonetheless. And remember kids, don’t believe everything you read. This may all just be my own BS, so you should probably fact check me (wink wink).

Fide et amor,

Kira

#⚜️🏛️⚜️#ask #the holy grail #holy grail #priory of sion #bible #canon scripture #nt canon #history #ancient history #art history #davinci #leonardo davinci #the DaVinci Code

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light-of-valentia · 5 years

Text

headcanons: what they do when they can’t sleep

AN: I currently don’t have a set list of characters I will and will not be writing for headcanons, so if you want more than what I do, please leave a note! I will start off doing the Golden Deer kiddos for this one. -Admin Belle

(all characters in this headcanon are pre-timeskip!)

Claude von Riegan

He sometimes stays awake at night not because he has too much physical energy, but because he has so many thoughts and ideas running through his head

If he is alone, he will probably read from his countless books on alchemy, flora + fauna, mythology, crests, and tactics. If he has managed to snag a book from Hanneman’s office about crests or a “forbidden” book that Seteth tried to toss out, you bet he will stay up as late as he can reading it. He will typically read until he passes out, book still in hand.

As one would expect, he also loves to explore the monastery, going anywhere that he knows Rhea, Seteth, and the knights won’t notice

His favorite places include behind the greenhouse, the Officer’s Academy, the gardens, and if he’s feeling bold enough, the library. Basically anywhere outside, not dangerously far from the dorms, and with places he could easily hide if needed.

If he knows that Professor Byleth is still awake, he will sneak down to her room to “get some extra studying done”.

He won’t admit it nor is it easy to tell, but he mostly does this because he gets lonely and he knows that Byleth has the same kind of rich inner world that contributes to interesting late-night conversations, assuming the conversation doesn’t consist of mostly him talking and her giving nonverbal responses.

Also flirting with Byleth while she’s tired is really fun, and he has no idea why she puts up with him at such ungodly hours.

On the very rare occasion that he somehow convinces Byleth to let him sleep over, he will definitely show up to class late the next morning because he can’t have anyone watching him leave from her room instead of his own.

Hilda Valentin Goneril

She doesn’t usually have problems sleeping, since she usually talks herself to tiredness during the daytime.

When she does, her first go-to is to get out an oil or scent like lavender or lilac to spritz across her pillow

Her parents definitely didn’t believe in aromatherapy like this, but after her first few sleepless nights at the academy and some conversations with Professor Manuela, she refuses to go anywhere that she knows she will be sleeping without a little bottle of lavender oil.

Every once in a while, she will also take the initiative to sort her jewelry and makeup into their proper homes, maybe playing with them a bit if she’s really restless.

If she knows that Marianne is still awake too, she will go to her dorm and braid her hair.

Hilda loves showing this quieter and gentler side of herself around Marianne, and when this happens, she will usually fall asleep before she remembers to go back to her own room.

Marianne usually likes being alone, but having the quiet company of a sleeping friend next to her brings her a sense of peace.

Marianne von Edmund

Lots of laying awake, staring at the wall or ceiling and worrying.

She will usually think about what she can do to be helpful on the following morning, and praying for forgiveness for whatever she feels that she has done wrong.

She actually struggles with insomnia, and after Byleth notices her trying not to nod off during lectures, she sends her to see Manuela, who gives her some sleeping medication with instructions to take from time to time

Sometimes she will use this, but other times she feels that using it is just a cop-out and that if the Goddess intended her to stay awake, then so be it

She Loves It when Hilda comes in to braid her hair

She feels so spoiled when it happens but she is usually too tired to tell Hilda that she doesn’t deserve her company

If and when all else fails, she will practice casting small healing cantrips until she feels tired enough to sleep.

Leonie Pinelli

Studying? Studying.

She would practice and train, but she knows that if she strays far past the dormitories that Seteth or Jeralt will lecture her the next morning after the knights catch her, and she would never want to disappoint Jeralt or Byleth.

She will usually study from whatever subject she feels that she is lacking in, or that will impress Jeralt or Byleth.

She tends to stay pretty in-the-loop about the wants and needs of other students, and she might stealthily try to run errands between rooms if requested, doing things like laundry and cleaning.

If she feels too tired to read, she will polish up whatever weapon is laying around that she found on the training grounds that needs some love, or she will do physical exercises like push-ups that she can do quietly in her room.

Bonus: One time while she was running errands or pacing around the dormitories, she spotted Claude slipping down off of the second floor balcony going to see Byleth. She confronted him about this, and while he never exactly told her his reasons, she now teases him occasionally for going to see the Professor at night, and uses his secret as blackmail to keep him in line when she can.

Lysithea von Ordelia

“Out of all the magic they teach me here at the academy, they don’t teach me a spell to make myself fall asleep.”

Sleep tends to come easy to her, but on the occasion that she is having issues, she will just quiz herself over cantrips and spells.

She wouldn’t dare leave her room past 10 or 11 unless she really needed to use the restrooms. Staying cooped up at night is much better than dealing with ghosts. Lysithea doesn’t have magic to deal with the incorporeal yet.

She likes to let her mind float between various things as she lays in bed, ranging from the dessert menu at the dining hall to how obnoxious Lorenz was yesterday.

She hides it under her bed during the day, but she also has a teddy bear from her father that she pulls out at night to fall asleep with.

Basically she is baby, and baby gets sleepy real quick.

Ignatz Victor

Usually if he is awake at night, it is worries and anxiety that are keeping him awake.

He likes to light a small candle under a lamp and watch it flicker, and right as he is about to fall asleep, he will instinctively reach over to put it out.

He isn’t afraid of the dark when he knows he is in his own room, but the artistic spirit inside of him loves watching the flickering tounge of a small flame and the way it ever so slightly lights up the room.

If he feels antsy, he will get out a somewhat larger candle, and use the light to draw out whatever catches his eye in chiaroscuro with some charcoal.

There is something about gliding his hand across a paper to produce the lights and shadows that puts him at ease, and once he feels like he has perfected his art as much as he can, he will fall right asleep.

If he is feeling particularly inspired, he will write a late-night poem about whatever floats through his mind. He rarely will willingly show this to anyone, but occasionally he will make paintings out of them if he finds himself with something overflowing with visual imagery.

Raphael Kirsten

Three words- late night snack.

He keeps a small stash of non-perishable snacks under his bed, like dried meats/jerky, bread, and whatever else he can get his hands on.

Very rarely he will sneak out with Claude to the kitchen, but he is less than stealthy and they’ve almost been caught once or twice.

Since he likes to make his awake-time useful, he tends to decide that he might as well look at his books and study a bit, but this usually bores him right to sleep.

Like Leonie, if he has extra physical energy to deal with, he might do push-ups on the floor of his room

If all else fails, he will sit on a ledge in front of his room and look at stars in the night sky

He’s a pretty relaxed dude, so it doesn’t take much to get him to sleep.

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester

When he finds himself unable to easily obtain his beauty sleep, he gets annoyed pretty fast.

Likes to study or take his irritation out by playing hall monitor

He will just sit on a window ledge in the hallway outside of his room, half looking at the stars and half waiting for some unsuspecting miscreant to walk past

He always groggily tells anyone who passes him about “the importance of the rules”, but most people just tell him that they were doing something legitimate

He likes to hope to catch Claude mucking about or doing something suspicious, but he never does, since when Claude leaves his room at night, he does so by window.

He always has an herbal sleepy tea before bed, and his persistent belief that it works like magic convinces himself to fall asleep most of the time

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theoretical-tactician · 4 years

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Okay, so I was sent that video about how Rhea did mostly nothing wrong a week back and now that I’ve finished all the routes, I want to give my own thoughts in this. I’m looking at this as someone who completed Crimson Flower first and is very atheist. All of this is going under a read more because it is very, VERY long and I don’t want to subject people to too much.

First, I’d like to bring up that a reddit post was brought up to me responding to this video. I’ve actually read through it before and I agree with points brought up in it (thought I forget bits and pieces b/c it was days ago). Anyhow, here’s a link to the reddit thread if you want an interesting read.

Still, I want to give my own ideas and opinions on this front. For easy reference to what I’m responding to, here’s the video:

youtube

The first thing I will state is based on the talk of impressions at the start of the video. It should be noted that while first impressions can be strong, a person’s mind can be changed. I’ll be honest that my opinion on disliking Rhea has not changed, but that came before even starting Crimson Flower because Creepy Lady is Creepy. My opinions on other characters has changed throughout, though as I learn more of them. It should also be stated that Verdant Wind is a copy of Silver Snow, but even more pro Rhea (which I have my own beef with, but deserves its own analysis). As such, the writer of this video would likely start off with a strong pro Rhea bias (not to mention how they speak of Rhea, so).

But that aside, I want to talk about the actual points in this video. The first aspect I will agree upon is that both Rhea and Edelgard make mistakes. Both are flawed characters. And both do things right. The two are opposite sides of the same coin, in my opinion. They have tragedies that back their stories and actions. They do some things similar. It’s just they way they decide to approach such things and their reasoning is very different and leads to very different results. Since this is about Rhea, I will focus on her. Perhaps another time I will talk about the flaws and merits of other lords.

The first major point the video brings up is Edelgard talking about the church wishing to rule the world. Which, yeah, they don’t want to rule the world, instead acting as extremely isolationist. Rather, what the church prefers to do is having an iron grip on Fodlan. That is in fact another version of the use of the word “world” as world can also just refer to a region or group of countries. I believe that in this speech and every other of Edelgard’s, her use of the word “world” is meant to refer to Fodlan alone. That is what is meant to be taken away, at least.

Fodlan is a group of three countries and is the world Edelgard talks about in her speeches, as she talks about it in terms of the goddess, church, nobility, etc. These are things she speaks of as specifics to Fodlan, conveying that “the world” is Fodlan. One way to take complete control of an area is to enforce isolationism, something Rhea VERY much does.

It should be noted that after the division of the Empire into three countries, they were forced to band together beneath the church due to the threats of other countries invading. This suggests the church having isolationist policies which keep foreigners out of the country, fighting them and not welcoming them as brethren. Not only that, but people must obey the church. Look at Claude’s supports. There is legitimate fear in him speaking out against the goddess because doing such a thing is heresy and he could be put to death for saying such things in Fodlan. At least, I would assume this much, otherwise, that fear wouldn’t exist.

The next point I wish to speak on is about whether or not the church actually split up the Empire into three countries so as to weaken the power of humans and put down her authority in those countries. Now, I’m no politician--even if my friends want me to be one--and I definitely don’t know everything about politics, but I can definitely say that the church wasn’t totally neutral in these conflicts.

I, being the nerd I am, actually spent the time to read all of the books within the monastery library to get an idea of the history of Fodlan. Of course, these books do have lies and half-truths themselves (especially since Seteth chooses what to censor (shit, I’m getting war on Protestantism vibes again)). Anyways, we can’t actually tell what the full truth is of what happened in the past as history is written by the victors. And the church. But I’ll do my best with what information there is.

First, there was the war of the Eagle and Lion. This went on for years until the church intervened as a “neutral” party to end the conflict and allow the creation of the Kingdom. The thing is, the church isn’t exactly neutral in this. The result of the negotiations is that Loog gets crowned the first king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Rhea made a deal with the Kingdom that they would get their independence so long as they followed the teachings of Seiros. As a result, all of the nobles of the Kingdom are required to be devout followers of the church.

This in’t neutral at all as it acts as a gain for the church who wasn’t even involved in the conflict as far as we know, just benefiting off of giving Loog the crown. I would also note that it makes sense for Rhea to do so in order to gain control, considering that the Empire’s relationship with the church strained over time, eventually leading to the destruction of the Southern Church 100 years before the start of the game. While the war of the Eagle and Lion happened long before then, there was likely still some strain between the Empire and church which would lead to Rhea making such a decision to take control of the Kingdom in this way.

The second part is with the Alliance. As far as I am aware, the church did not involve itself in any way with the conflict, but the effects of Rhea’s negotiation with the Kingdom does affect the Alliance in the long run, as it split off from the Kingdom with some of the ideals of the nobles carrying over. You can see this most clearly in Lornez. If you talk to him early on in the game, he actually comments on how the nobility are required to show faith to the church, even if he himself doesn’t necessarily believe in the faith. This is interesting because he is an Alliance noble, not a Kingdom noble, and ONLY the Kingdom was directly given this requirement to follow the faith. This means that when the Alliance did offshoot from the Kingdom, they kept that same die-hard religious stuff. So perhaps Rhea didn’t work in splitting off the Alliance, but her work still lingers there, digging its claws deep in controlling the people.

We don’t know the full events of either split, so Rhea could have been subtly involved, but we would never know. And while the person in this video says Rhea is never subtle due to how we see her act in game, we must keep in mind that people change with time. She likely could have been more stable then, but perhaps not. So past history is kind of up in the air. Though, it also could have been those who slither, like the video suggests. The truth is, we never learn what happened during those conflicts as they are not the main drive of the story, and, as such, we will never know the full story of such events, leaving us only to walk circles in speculation.

I will make a small comment that it’s interesting how Garreg Mach is perfectly in the center of all the regions, though. Like, why was there no country that cut off and had no borders next to the church? 🤔

Onto the next point in the video. There’s a relatively quick part on the church exploiting people for gold and living in extravagance. The creator of the video says there’s no proof of such, but there is a very, very tiny bit. Due to Dimitri’s research on Lord Arundel in Blue Lions (this part can easily be looked over b/c Arundel isn’t spoken of much in BL), it is discovered that Arundel would give very large donations on a regular basis to the church before suddenly stopping (which was likely when Thales replaced him).

Looking at this, we can take it that the church gets its money via donations and the very, VERY expensive fees for entering the Officer’s Academy. I don’t actually know where all of the money goes and what it’s used for, but it seems apparent that the church gets quite a bit of money from the nobility across Fodlan and through the academy. And with the nobility across Fodlan, look back to what I said about the founding of Faerghus.

Many of the nobility are required to follow the faith and making donations is likely a great show of faith. And money can act as a great way of gaining power. So all I’m saying is that the nobility are giving quite a bit of power to the church (because they feel they must or are required to) and we have no idea what this money is being used for.

The next point is about the hypocrisy of the church leading Fodlan when they can’t lead an era of peace. Now, I can agree that the church has led a long era of peace within Fodlan for quite some time. But if such peace was held in a similar fashion to how we see Rhea holding it (i.e. sentencing people who rise against the church to death without providing them a trial), then I would consider it a false peace. That would be a peace upheld by fear.

Of course, there weren’t many large wars within Fodlan for quite a long time, but there were other conflicts that the church has done nothing about, allowing conflict to destroy the borders of Fodlan. See, if it’s true that the church is isolationist, the locket can’t be torn down and the Almyrans can’t be reasoned with. As a result, we have this eternal conflict in the borders of the Alliance with Almyra, a war without end. The same can be said of Sreng, as The Gautier house is at constant war with Sreng to keep them out of Fodlan. Again, no peace could possibly be negotiated if it’s true that the church has isolationist ideas.

For true peace to exist in Fodlan, there must be no conflict with the outer world as well. But to end such conflicts, the church should help work to create a resolution of conflict with the outside world in a more peaceful way. So, no, the church does not entirely keep peace, and while I have no clue whether Edelgard would, too, she at least seems to wish to make an effort to speak with other countries to try and end conflict.

The next point is about the Crest system and governance. Rhea enforces feudalism, which is not a fun form of government and is very oppressive. I will also admit that Edelgard does not change the government from that of the Empire. But it should also be stated that the Empire isn’t an Imperial dictatorship. See, after the insurrection of the seven, power was taken away from the emperor, giving it to the most powerful nobles, who became ministers.

The emperor can’t actually do much without the support of the ministers. We see this through comments from people like Linhardt and how there are subtle details about Edelgard going off to talk to certain ministers, likely so they would join her side and allow her the power to start this war/help prepare for it. Without the ministers, Edelgard doesn’t actually have the people and resources for what she needs to do. So this isn’t a dictatorship, but rather an oligarchy. This is even further highlighted as ministers who didn’t support Edelgard were forcibly put under house arrest or killed and another would take their place.

I’m unsure of exactly what power the emperor does hold, so Edelgard was either able to put ministers under house arrest due to her power as emperor or through force (considering the people/soldiers seem loyal to her/her ideals and has a few soldiers of her own). Though it seems she cannot strip ministers of their power, as it was rather taken by family of said ministers who then vowed support to Edelgard (i.e. Ferdinand, Hubert, and Count Varley’s wife).

Edelgard wants to put a meritocracy on this existing oligarchy, which either would work, or would fail. The video points out that feudalism is far preferable to the fall of a meritocracy and I’d actually say otherwise. See, if there’s anything I’ve learned from this semester in my classes that spoke on the world and human rights, it’s this: progress can’t happen without change.

Rhea keeps the system stagnant, unchanging. Fodlan is to remain with feudalism eternally. Or at least so long as Rhea and her church have power. With Edelgard’s meritocracy, either one of two things will happen: (1) a change for the better where the government will be more inclusive or (2) the complete collapse (fast or slow) of the government and Empire, which will lead to a new era of change where the people will pick up the pieces and create their own government that will improve the world. This is simply how progress comes about.

I should also note that this is a theme I see within Silver Snow itself. When you follow Rhea and choose to support the church, everything remains stagnant. This is noticeable among the Black Eagles as they don’t get their full development. I don’t want to make this too long, so I won’t go in-depth, but the greatest example is how SS Bernie remains a recluse, unlike CF Bernie who has learned to be more outward. A lot of Silver Snow shows the church using people in a way to try and keep order, creating an unchanging and stagnant world. This is what Rhea does. And this creates more harm than good. Sometimes the best thing to happen is when all falls apart and the people build something new on the cleared foundation.

Next, the video states that Rhea isn’t enforcing the Crest system at all, but that’s not exactly true? Rhea, in a way, is enforcing the Crest system by giving the nobles access to the Relics. These are powerful weapons that can easily be used to hold people at bay or kill them. To provide such power to a select few ensures they hold their status high-up as nobles. I mean, we have an entire chapter which ends with us being required to give the Lance of Ruin back to Rhea so she may bestow it upon House Gautier. And if you don’t give it back to her, she gets PISSED. She is actively enforcing this system.

Not to mention that once again, she requires many nobles to follow the Seiros faith, and follow her as a result. She asks that the commoners have faith in the nobles, which is another hit at her basically enforcing the Crest system. I’d also like to note that the only place where she has less control is in the country that has no nobles with crests of the ten elites (and as such, no relics). Crests seem to matter less in the Empire as we can see many powerful nobles who lack Crests (like, our minister of military affairs has ZERO Crests), which may be part of the reason the church has less control. It just seems that the Crest system is so heavily tied to the church, and it’s only strengthened with the lie the faith spreads about Crests.

I also want to add that Silver Snow shows that the most powerful people within the church are actively given Rhea’s blood and Crest shards??? So she is actively providing Crests to people in power which would only further fuel those with Crests being higher/mightier/more important than anyone without Crests.

The next bit that the video speaks on is how the one major wrong Rhea does is her creation of a false faith and outright lying to people about the past. Here’s what I have to say: Rhea can think of Sothis as a goddess all she wants, but she then forces this upon humans. The forcing of humans to celebrate Sothis as a goddess is partially what led to Nemesis killing off the Nabateans (as far as we are aware, though even that could be a lie, but it remains consistent across routes (Seiros was not the one enforcing faith then, but likely Sothis herself)).

After Seiros killed Nemesis, she created the church of Seiros, which seems odd. Why would you name your faith after a saint (and yourself) and not the goddess you celebrate? It seems odd. I mean, Christianity is called Christianity, not Peterism or whatever (I do realize that there are subdivisions of Christianity like Lutheranism, but that is, again, part of Christianity).

By covering everything up and creating a religion, Rhea simply makes a new way for people to worship her mother as she so desires. It allows her to take control of Fodlan slowly so she might have complete religious control over the people, as that seems to be one of her desires.

There’s a statement in this ending part of the video that really struck a chord with me. The video states that if the church put its beliefs closer to reality, those who slither would have nothing to manipulate Edelgard with. But it should be noted that they aren’t manipulating her. In fact, they weren’t the ones to tell her this. She gained this information from her father, the emperor. This was information passed down to her through the generations.

Her tipping point was being experimented upon so that she might have a second Crest which is also a major Crest. The only way this could have been averted is if the church never took control of Fodlan and enforced the Crest system, preventing Edelgard from possibly being harmed by it and obtaining a secondary Crest. But the only way to do so would be to destroy the Crests and Relics, which I doubt Rhea wants to do (since those are her siblings). In fact, she herself ADDS to this problem as she and all of the saints (excluding Macuil) gave their blood to the nobles who assisted them, which would further assist the creation of a Crest system.

The last bit of the video I wish to comment on is about Rhea’s questionable experiments. No matter how you look at it, what she did was wrong. We don’t know what the first dozen experiments were like, but we know how Byleth’s went. Sure, at first it was to save their life. But then Rhea became obsessive, wishing to turn the child into the progenitor god.

The video states that it seems like Rhea simply wanted Sothis to be reborn in spirit outside of Crimson Flower. But I don’t think so. In every route, Rhea makes comments on Byleth being a vessel and wishing for the power to overcome them, making Sothis return. It seems that the entire time, no matter the route, Rhea has desired for Byleth to be a sort of human vessel to sacrifice for the return of her mother. It is only when this fails and Byleth fights against Edelgard that Rhea gives in and just sees Byleth as being the progenitor god in spirit, Sothis having had passed down her powers to her vessel.

Since the video speaks nothing on anything of the war phase, I will also speak nothing of Rhea’s actions during the war phase. It is then stated that many of Edelgard’s accusations towards Rhea are either outright false or missing context, but I believe otherwise. All of them are true in some form or another, and we never know everything Edelgard does. Edelgard does in fact know the truth of Rhea, but we never know how much of the truth she knows of the Relics (though it’s highly likely she does and just never speaks on it).

It should also be noted that the video says Edelgard is walking the same path as Rhea, though from a different direction. And I do agree. They are two sides of the same coin. People struck by tragedy who wish to right this wrong. The difference is how they choose to pursue fixing this. Rhea does so by becoming some almighty power. Edelgard does so by becoming a tool for her people.

After writing all of this, I will say that Rhea is one of my favorite characters in Three Houses for her writing, and that is due to her tragedy. She’s of so much interest because she’s someone stuck in their past, wishing for nothing more than what they used to have. But they can never have that back, dragging other people down with them as a result.

Rhea may have done some good things in her time, but if she did, I have yet to see or hear them. Perhaps the church has done things to help Fodlan, but it cannot be ignored how much harm Rhea has done as well.

#rhea #fe16 #fe16 spoilers #golden deer spoilers #black eagle spoilers #church spoilers #long post

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seancekitsch · 5 years

Text

From Her to Eternity: Billy Bennett x Reader

A/N: this is me drinking 9.5% beers and being weak for punk boys churning out self indulgent bullshit, but that’s also like.... most of my writing anyway.

-“So what, did Y/N leave you for Lex or something?” Willie asks in the parking lot of Creepy Daniels. Billy’s been looking for you, but he figured you went off with Saya and Maria. The confused look on his face tells Willie he has no idea what he’s talking about.

“I mean, at that party y’all were all over each other, but she’s been with Lex pretty much every minute since. They’re starting to look like King’s Dominions own Sid and Nancy.” He was right about that. With your wild curls and Lex’s spiky hair, you definitely resembled the doomed couple.

-“No she didn’t- I mean, it’s not like that. We aren’t, we weren’t together.” People thought the two of you were together? I mean sure, you slept in the same bed most nights because you were too lazy to walk back to your own rooms, and you made each other mix tapes. But isn’t that what all best friends do?

-He had honestly been confused where he stood with you the past few days. He remembered being drunk, and making out with you, and then you getting mad and you had been avoiding him like the plague since. But now you were on this trip to help him murder his father, and you weren’t speaking or looking at him. Honestly, he didn’t remember why you were mad at him.

-“Man really? We all thought you were kinda good together.” Willie says, and he leaves it at that. He walks off to find Marcus or the girls.

-Billy doesn’t know why, but that stirs some kind of sadness in him.

-Meanwhile you’re in the bathroom, seated at the counter with your dirty doc martens in the sink and your skirt hunched up at your upper thighs. You’re watching Maria and Saya snort coke. They offered you some, but you prefer Valium to the speed. They’ve been asking about the exact same thing as Willie. Except on your end, you hadn’t been too drunk to remember. They’re listening as they rail lines. Asking questions as they cut up more.

-The night of the party, Billy and you had a drinking competition of sorts on the couch. You played a vicious game where you’d make accusations at each other, and if they were true you’d take a sip. He had accused you of being a kleptomaniac in middle school, secretly taking vocal lessons, and making counterfeit tickets to see the Birthday Party play last year downtown... all true. You had accused him of lying about how much he smoked, of preferring burgers to pizza, and secretly being a cyndi lauper fan... all true as well. And when you accused him of having a crush on someone, he also took a sip. So fifteen minutes later when you’re hot and heavy straddling each other, hands tugging at each other’s hair, moaning and tonguing each other’s throats... you definitely assumed his crush was on you.

-But when you pulled away, you noticed his eyes looking above you. Following his gaze, you see he’s been staring at Petra and Victor readjusting their clothing. You knew they flirted, but did you misread this? Even worse, were you just a rebound for the guy you definitely loved? You felt instantly sick to your stomach.

-“is that a fucking joke?” You scoff. Your anger is spiking and his confusion is rising. “Am i just some rebound?” You’re not going to stick around and take this. Even worse, you fear that any emotion besides anger will start to show itself. You get up from the couch, prepared to get the fuck away as fast as possible.

-He grabs your hand as you pull away, and you snap.

“You will NEVER fucking touch me again. Got it?” You hiss as you rip yourself from his grasp and and turn on your heel to leave the party as soon as possible.

-And that’s when you found Lex. He left the party as well, and the two of you swapped flasks in the graveyard. He listened to you scream about your anger and hurt, and just cheers’d you whenever it felt appropriate.

-And despite what people might think, you would never touch Lex. He was your friend, but in that way that you also thought he was a total piece of shit. He was just the only one who knew what was going on with you so you had a bit of an understanding at the moment.

-Saya’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “So you’re here to what, show moral support to the guy that broke your heart? Or is there some other motive?”

-“ Moral support I guess. I’m mad, but I still know how much this means to him.”

-“Just DONT let him off easy. Make him work back into your good graces.” Maria chimes in. But did you even want him in your good graces again? You didn’t know if you could have him back the way it was again. You’d want all or nothing, and really how could you see anything with him now, after he hurt you like that? He embarrassed you, even if you were the only one who actually knew about the extent of it.

-You just nod, and stay quiet as you wait for them to finish.

-When you Meet back up at the car, you quickly realize that you and billy are the only ones not tripping your faces off. You’re happily so numb that you’re only speaking in your bad Jean Claude Van Damme impression and you keep running your fingers along the skin of your face and neck to try to feel something. You take a seat in the back, but you notice Billy’s eyes seem sad each time they look back at you.

-everyone split up at the casino, and you bid farewell to Maria and Saya once you got to the motel. You were hoping you could find some dumb older man to buy you enough drinks that you could stumble back to the hotel and sleep good, maybe not dreaming of Billy for once.

-But commotion from the room two doors down from you stops you from doing any of that. Springing into action, you bust open the door, finding Billy on the ground and Marcus trying, and being overpowered by a man you can only assume is Billy’s father.

-Adrenaline kicks in and you run headfirst into action. You kick and sweep Billy’s Father’s legs from under him, but unfortunately that lands him half on top of you. Forgetting Marcus, he wraps both hands strongly around your throat. He’s squeezing and squeezing, and you think for a second you might die, but as fate would have it you keep your wicked life, and you hear the sickening smack of a skull hitting something blunt.

-While your eyes are open, they don’t focus for a bit. Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s almost being murdered. But when they do, all you see is Billy. His eyes are red and there’s spit drying around his lips. Had he been crying? Did you miss that? But he looks like shit. He looks worried. More worried than you had ever seen him in your life.

-“oh thank god you’re okay. I thought I’d lose you for a second. You’re still here.” He’s barely whispering. Keeping this conversation from Marcus I guess.

-“things we do for love, i fuckin guess.” You mutter, but you don’t dwell on what was apparently your confession. You push yourself up and get out of the room as soon as possible, once again running from Billy Bennett.

-And you’re so ready to just sleep all of this off and hide until it’s time to leave, but once again this plan is foiled as Saya Runs down the hallway, nearly knocking you and a drink you managed to score down. She grabs your arm and tugs, pulling you with her down the hallway shouting something about Marcus and Maria being in trouble. You find them, and Billy and Willie and Chico in the alley.

-Everything happens so fast, and before you can think youre trying to rush in between Billy and Chico, seeing the knife, but Billy blocks you, fully taking the blade of the knife in his side. You’re catching Billy, now with a fresh shallow stab wound in his stomach. You let him down gently, and he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. But you know he’ll live. He just... took a knife for you though.

-“I was stupid the other night, right? I should have known better. It’s always been you” Billy wheezes in your lap, and you finally look him in the eye again. You laugh.

-“You have no clue, Bill. No clue.”

——————————————————

-Hes back on his feet by the time your back at King’s Dominion. That backdoor doctor did wonders on all of you and your injuries. You took shotgun next to him, as Marcus sat in the back next to Maria. Every time he thought no one was looking, he’d try to brush his fingers shyly against your skirt or the skin where the slit in your skirt would part.

-The second you’re back at the dorms, he pulls you into his. He seems on edge, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his father or because he wants to say something.

-He chooses not to say anything, instead clumsily smashing his lips against yours not unlike how he did a week ago at the party. This time it feels different, he’s sober and sure of his actions.

-It’s not until he’s kissing a line of hickies down your neck that he finally says something. “tell me how” another one “fucking stupid i was” another one “not to realize it” another one “was you i loved”

-“Are you into that?” You gasp out. “You want me to tell you how fuckin stupid you’ve been?” In response he groans and rips open the clasp of your bra, which was barely a bra in the first place. It was a mess of mesh and a little underwire, stained with his blood. He’s into that, you note. “You were so blind I should have popped out your eyes” maybe that was pushing it now.

-it wasn’t. He responds by grabbing your hips and falling backwards, making sure you land straddling him on the bed behind him. His hands roam up your skirt, bunching it up around your hips as he pulls your center down on to the crotch of his pants, which now feel uncomfortably tight on him.

-“You didn’t even notice when I gave you a sex mixtape.” You meant it to be another insult, but he perks up.

-“One of those is a sexy mixtape?” You nod and he momentarily brings you back to your feet. You whine at the loss of friction and contact. He makes you point out which one it was and once it’s in the tape deck you almost run back to the bed, ditching the skirt and bra along the way, leaving you bare besides your panties and with spread legs on his bed. Strip by Adam Ant is playing through the speaker.

-He audibly moans at the sight and makes quick work of his own clothes. The stitches on his abdomen are bleeding a little from movement, but if he even noticed he didn’t care. He lunges forward and pulls the panties off in one quick motion, very smooth you notice for someone as sexually inexperienced as him.

-Before Hes even taken a seat on the bed, his right hand is between your legs, testing your reactions. You’re already soaked, and that’s reassurance enough for him to plunge two fingers into you. deep. He hovers over you and presses kisses to your jaw and chest and he bleeds onto you a little, but with the way his hands are moving you can’t seem to mind.

-He has you worked up, almost to the point of cumming when he pulls his hand away and leaves you audibly gasping.

-“Billy I know I called you stupid earlier but I need you. I need you to fill me up baby. “ he chuckles and rolls over so that he’s laying next to you.

-“Climb aboard, Y/N” he jokes, and the two of you have to laugh at how cheesy it is. But you still climb aboard anyway.

-sinking down onto him, taking him fully into you feels like a dream. Literally in that you’ve only ever dreamed about and touched yourself to this thought for the past two years. You had always felt guilty waking up next to him after one of these dreams, but now that all seems to fade into the background. You let out moans at the same time once he bottoms out into you, and you test the waters by rolling your hips into his. He hisses through gritted teeth and his hands fly to your hips to control the motion.

-as you ride him he guides your hips down in the perfect angle so your clit drags against him, making you shake and chant his name. Your hands push down on his chest to steady yourself and your fingernails dig into his lean muscles.

-But as you feel yourself fall over the edge, your arms buckle. He grabs you and holds you close, your face now buried into the crook of his neck, perfect for you to leave some hickies of your own. He shifts so that he is now thrusting up into you, keeping you still as you cum around his cock and he seeks his own release. His thrusts speed up, and what was your come down from an orgasm quickly becomes another one. As you clench around him again, he loses control and freezes, feeling himself finish and the two of you shake and gasp for breath.

-He’s ripped a stitch and there’s now quite a bit of blood on the two of you, but neither of you care. He pulls out of you and smiles so wide you think his face will split in half. You match his grin and give him a peck on the nose. The music is forgotten as he reaches over to turn off the lamp, and then pulls the covers over the both of you.

#my work #billy bennett x reader #billy bennett imagine #deadly class imagine #billy bennett headcanon #deadly class headcanon #smut??

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plus-size-reader · 6 years

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Beautiful

Caliban x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1390 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader is kind and unlike anyone else Caliban has every met so it’s easy for him to become enamored with her.

———————————————————————————————————

When Caliban came back to find the doctor originally, he wanted a bride who was like him but that was long before he met you.

You were unlike anyone he'd ever met and he liked that about you, he loved that about you. His feelings had developed the moment he ran into you in the street, he physically ran into you though you didn't react the way he'd been expecting.

He assumed you'd shrink away from him in fear or screech at him for being so foul but you did not one of those things.

Instead you apologized, hurrying to collect your books from the cobblestone, all the while mumbling on about how clumsy you were.

There was something instantly captivating about you, unlike anything he'd ever experience with any other human-he thought for a moment it may have been humility.

You didn't think yourself above everyone else and that was the most interesting quality any being could possess. "I'm such a claude sometimes, I apologize, it really was my fault" You clamored, collecting your novels on your knees in the street.

You hadn't yet looked up but the moment you did, you were stuck in your spot, your eyes locked on the man above you.

He recoiled under your gaze, clearly uncomfortable there but again, no insults left your lips and no sneers found there way to him, you only looked.

Your sweet face softened, your E/C eyes studying every inch of his frame as if memorizing each jagged detail. "How rude of me, staring and all" You muttered, standing to your feet slowly.

Something deep within Caliban urged him to help you up though he couldn't make himself move, at a loss for words at your presence. "It's quite alright, I get it often, believe me" he chuckled, gesturing to all of himself as if to prove his point but you looked confused at that.

"I only meant because you're so beautiful is all" you smiled, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you let the words fall from your lips.

They only hung there for a moment, neither of you quite sure what to say. Caliban was unsure how to react b because he didn't know if you were telling him the truth or if it was purely a jest for your own amusement.

You showed no sign of ill intent or cruelty, something that shocked him to his very core.

Now, Caliban had been called many things in his short life time but never beautiful but before he could react any farther than shock, you were gone, rushing off in whatever direction you'd come, disappearing into the crowd of bustling strangers.

"Wait" he muttered, his words disappearing into the air, sailing far away from the ears of anyone around.

It didn't take very long at all for the man to be driven mad by your very presence, to the point where he began seeing your face everywhere, and hearing your voice in the whisper of the wind.

It had gotten out of hand, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. Caliban often found himself aimlessly wandering about the street in hopes of bumping into you but no such luck.

Days and days had passed and still, he'd heard nothing that suggested you truly existed. He was beginning to wonder if you'd been there at all or if you were just a figment, created by the lonely mind of a man who wasn't meant to exist.

"I've decided who I want as my bride" he started, giving Victor a tinge of cardiac arrest with his sudden appearance.

He'd been hoping that his creation would give up on the idea of an immortal bride but it would seem he wasn't going to be getting off the easily, because you'd given Caliban a new reason to live.

"I will not hurt someone for your benefit" Frankenstein started, for what seemed like the millionth time but it didn't matter. "You will, or your blood will decorate every corner of every street" he barked, Victor tensed knowing his threats were anything but empty.

With that, Caliban was gone, no doubt trying his hardest to track you down the way a starved bloodhound would.

It would be a lie to suggest you'd forgotten about the pale man from the street, though you hadn't been nearly as obsessive in your search.

You couldn't forget his deep voice or quiet demeanor and you certainly couldn't forget his striking eyes. There was something about the man's gaze that bore into you with such an unforgettable intensity, it was far too much to be ignored.

You buried your fascination though, accepting the fact that your passing encounter had been only fleeting, sometimes good things were never to be repeated.

It wasn't until much later, while you were picking daisies in the center of town that you felt a presence evoking your own.

Upon further investigation, you found that same man, with his brilliant eyes staring back at you from across the courtyard. You sat there for a moment, your grasp tightening on the stems of the delicate flowers just a bit before you snapped out of the shock of him.

You waved him over, though he seemed much more comfortable in the confines of the shadows than out in the open alongside you.

It became clear to you in that moment that this man was nothing like any other man you'd ever had the privilege of meeting.

There was something so innocent and confused about his curious existence that lent itself to his kindness. You could see it, but just beneath that, you could also see this fiery anger bubbling in pools there.

It became clear to you that he wasn't going to join you there but you didn't mind. Instead you stood, taking slow yet eager steps toward him without much concern for the opinions of the passers by.

They opinions of the weak minded and frivolous meant nothing to you, all that mattered now was getting acquainted with the pale, daunting stranger at your back.

"Hello" you hummed, unsure how else to begin such a conversation with someone you'd only spoken to on one occasion though you felt so close to already.

Again, that familiar blush burnt into your cheeks, your mind blurring with feeling as his eyes once again fell on your face. Instantly, you dropped your hand to touch his own.

You weren't sure what possessed you to do it, you had never been so forward with any other man but something deep within you yearned to feel his flesh beneath your own.

Caliban was shocked, your tone of voice was even more delicate and gorgeous than he remembered and as much as he wanted to pull away at the touch of your skin, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Hello" he repeated, he wanted so badly to tell you everything he felt deep within himself but it wasn't proper to do so in such a public setting. "Can I know your name? my name is Y/N" you allowed, you wanted so badly to know him, though you couldn't exactly force such intimate conversation between strangers, because you were strangers in reality, if you allowed yourself to believe it.

"Caliban" he mumbled, as if unsure what he felt toward you as if he didn't know the truth already.

He knew exactly how he felt deep down inside, he loved you already, even though he had no words to speak of it now that you were at his face. "Caliban" you repeated, enjoying the feeling of the word on your tongue, it felt right...as if it belonged there all along.

"That's a lovely name for a lovely man" you grinned, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in your own.

Love was a complicated relationship between two people who equally respected and admired each other, and if that was true, Caliban was completely and utterly in love with you.

#caliban #caliban x ps reader #caliban x plus size reader #creature #creature x ps reader #creature x plus size reader #penny dreadful #penny dreadful x ps reader #penny dreadful x plus size reader

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scifihorroradventure · 7 years

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THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1957)

A priest (Alex Gallier) visits Baron Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) in prison as he awaits execution. Desperate for someone to believe him, Victor begins to tell him the tale of the events that led to his imprisonment. As a young boy, Victor inherited the Frankenstein fortune and estate, becoming the Baron after his father's death. He hired Paul Krempe (Robert Urquhart) to be his tutor, and the two became fast friends. Over the years, they sought out new knowledge, eventually discovering the secret to life itself. But while Paul was content with resurrecting a dead dog, Victor thirsted for more, declaring that instead of returning life, he would forge an entirely new body out of various parts and create it instead! Though Paul was first attracted to the idea, the gravity of the situation quickly struck and he tried to dissuade Victor from his plans for his own sake, while at the same time trying to protect Victor's fiance Elizabeth (Hazel Court) from the truth. Victor killed Professor Bernstein (Paul Hardtmuth) in order to use his brain for his creation, though the brain became damaged thanks to Paul’s interference. Despite this, Victor finished work on his creation, but the resulting Creature (Christopher Lee) was mindless and violent, escaping out into the woods and killing an old man (Fred Johnson) and his grandson (Claude Kingston). Victor and Paul killed the Creature but unbeknownst to Paul, Victor revived it, keeping it deep within his lab and using it to kill his maid Justine (Valerie Gaunt) when she threatened to expose his work. Shortly before Victor and Elizabeth were to be married, the Creature escaped again, menacing Elizabeth before Victor killed his creation once and for all. His tale finished, Victor is visited by Paul one last time before heading to the gallows for his crimes.

The Curse of Frankenstein was the first of Hammer Film Productions' Gothic period piece horror films, getting the franchise off to a good, though slightly shaky start. Loosely based on Mary Shelley's original novel, it is a much slower, more character-driven interpretation of the story than Universal's Frankenstein, which focused more on the horror aspects. Not to suggest that Curse has no horror of its own - Christopher Lee's Frankenstein Monster (or "the Creature," rather) is a harrowing looking beast, with sickly pale skin, dead eyes, and more stitches than Universal's Monster would know what to do with. Lee plays the Creature as more of an instinctual, feral creature, which honestly probably makes more sense, especially with a damaged brain. Sadly, he doesn't get to do very much, and by the time he does start to go on his climactic rampage, he's killed by Victor almost immediately. Also, once the entire story has been told and the movie ends, it's not entirely clear why Victor is in prison, let alone about to be executed. Yes, he's responsible for the deaths of Justine, the old man, and the little boy, but there's no way for the authorities to know that. Quite some time passes between Justine's death and the rest of the movie - certainly Victor had disposed of her body by then (likely in the acid bath), and there's no real way to pin the old man and grandson on him (assuming their deaths were even known about), so while he may deserve the sentence, the fact that he even has it is questionable. Justine (played by Valerie Gaunt), meanwhile, ultimately feels like a waste. She’s set up as the treacherous maid having an affair with Victor, but then does absolutely nothing for the rest of the film until she foolishly decides to blackmail him near the end. She’s pretty to look at, but essentially only there so the Creature has someone resembling a main character to kill.

The star of the show, Peter Cushing plays the infamous Baron Frankenstein, turning in a rather interesting take on the character. This Frankenstein is no doctor, merely interested in the sciences as a way to increase his own genius. He starts off resurrecting a previously deceased dog, and when he succeeds at that, he simply wants to take the experiment to its next logical step: human beings. Despite the insanity of his experiments, Cushing plays Victor as a calm, logical man, a sharp contrast to Colin Clive's openly unhinged Henry Frankenstein from the Universal films. Very rarely does Victor lose his cool or raise his voice, doing so only when somebody threatens his work. Of course, despite his cool demeanor, he's not afraid to get his hands dirty, turning people into bodies and then hacking them apart for use in his creation. Cushing would later consider Victor his most popular role, and he would go on to play him again five more times.

Finally, we come to Paul. Played by Robert Urquhart, Paul is undoubtedly the most problematic element of the film. Initially, he is right alongside Victor in the thirst for knowledge and the quest to create life itself, but he soon changes his tune and then does nothing but complain for the rest of the film. Yes, the movie clearly intends for Paul to be a conscientious objector, the moral compass for the audience to identify with as he tries to convince Victor to cease his experiments... The only problem is that he instead comes off as nothing but a whining wet blanket, with both him and the film itself ignoring the fact that it had to have been him who set Victor down this path. After all, Paul was his tutor, who taught him everything he knew, and Victor clearly had no interest in playing God beforehand. Certainly, Paul could have second thoughts upon realizing the gravity of the situation, but the execution is severely lacking, and Paul instead comes off as a petulant child throwing a tantrum. Instead of trying to appeal to Victor in any real meaningful way, countless scenes end with Paul essentially saying, "This is crazy and I don't like it," and then huffing and stomping out of the room. It's also Paul's fault that the brain Victor had planned for the Creature is damaged, potentially making him responsible for the deaths the monster caused. And lastly, when he visits Victor in jail at the end of the film, he literally does nothing to help him, showing up, watching Victor desperately beg for his life, and then leaving. Now, if Paul believed Victor deserved execution for what he'd done, that would be understandable, but then why even go to the prison at all and taunt him with a moment of false hope at the eleventh hour? Paul is supposed to be the sane man of the two - the hero, even - but he just comes off as an indecisive ass who tries to have things both ways and he ultimately bogs the film down.

Though it faced a series of obstacles behind the scenes that made its creation difficult (including a too short script, concerns over the level of gore, and a potential lawsuit from Universal over similarities between this and Son of Frankenstein), The Curse of Frankenstein nevertheless gave birth to "Hammer Horror," the only real franchise capable of rivaling Universal's iconic monster movies. The film paved the way for multiple sequels starring Peter Cushing as Victor Frankenstein, as well as other films by Hammer involving Dracula and the Mummy.

Rating: ★★★ ½

Cast: Peter Cushing ... Baron Victor Frankenstein Robert Urquhart ... Paul Krempe Hazel Court ... Elizabeth Christopher Lee ... The Creature Valerie Gaunt ... Justine Paul Hardtmuth ... Professor Bernstein Fred Johnson ... Grandpa Claude Kingston ... Little Boy Alex Gallier ... Priest Melvyn Hayes ... Young Victor

Director: Terence Fisher. Producer: Michael Carreras (executive producer), Anthony Hinds, Anthony Nelson Keys (associate producer), and Max Rosenberg (uncredited). Writer: Jimmy Sangster (screenplay) and Mary Shelley (original "Frankenstein" novel). Music: James Bernard. Special Effects: Les Bowie (uncredited matte painter).

#sci fi horror adventure #the curse of frankenstein #peter cushing #frankenstein #hammer horror #mad scientists #1950s

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ultrasfcb-blog · 6 years

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Garth Crooks

Premier League champions Manchester City put six past Huddersfield, Brighton recorded another famous victory over Manchester United, and Chelsea edged a five-goal thriller at dwelling to London rivals Arsenal.

Elsewhere, Harry Kane ended his August aim drought as Tottenham beat Fulham, and Everton’s summer season signing Richarlison scored once more of their win over Southampton.

Bournemouth and Watford continued their profitable begins towards West Ham and Burnley respectively, whereas Leicester bounced again from an opening-day defeat to beat Wolves, and Cardiff earned a primary level of the marketing campaign against Newcastle.

However who did sufficient to make my group of the week? Learn my alternatives after which decide your individual XI.

Goalkeeper – Jordan Pickford

Jordan Pickford: What a put it aside was by Jordan Pickford to disclaim Southampton striker Danny Ings. The Everton goalkeeper struggled to carry an preliminary shot from Cedric Soares, although it did not appear too sizzling to deal with, however reacted brilliantly.

Afterwards, Saints boss Mark Hughes insisted the England keeper ought to have been despatched off for his involvement in a 50-50 contest, which he gained, although I can not bear in mind Hughes ever pulling out of such a deal with in his lengthy, illustrious profession.

I do not know why he would count on Pickford to both. Poor present, Mark. Poor present.

Do you know? Pickford made three saves within the win towards Southampton.

Defenders – Shane Duffy, Steve Cook dinner, Benjamin Mendy

Shane Duffy: Final week, Brighton supervisor Chris Hughton was issuing verbal warnings to his gamers following their defeat at Watford. This week, the supervisor was stuffed with reward for them. On the coronary heart of Brighton’s victory over Manchester United was centre-back Shane Duffy.

The defender was excellent, significantly having misplaced his confederate Lewis Dunk by harm. Conversely, I do not assume I’ve seen Eric Bailly or Victor Lindelof play as badly in central defence as I did towards the Seagulls.

How can Manchester United look so poor in such vital positions at this stage of the season? It is horrifying.

Do you know? Duffy scored his first Premier League aim in addition to making extra blocks than another participant (two) in Brighton’s 3-2 win towards Manchester United.

Steve Cook dinner: Loyalty and continuity appear to be the secret for Bournemouth supervisor Eddie Howe, which is why it’s completely comprehensible he has caught with Steve Cook dinner – a Bournemouth participant since their days in League One.

The centre-back’s presence terrified West Ham defender Angelo Ogbonna into utilizing strong-arm ways and, but, he nonetheless couldn’t cease the Cherries defender from getting his head to the ball and planting the profitable aim.

I feel it is again to the drafting board for West Ham supervisor Manuel Pellegrini.

Do you know? Cook dinner made a team-high 11 clearances for Bournemouth on the London Stadium, whereas additionally netting the profitable aim for the Cherries.

Benjamin Mendy: It’s no coincidence that Benjamin Mendy’s return to first-team motion with Manchester Metropolis is having a direct impact on Sergio Aguero’s scoring powers.

The complete-back has a transparent skill to get into superior positions utilizing his tempo and energy, whereas Aguero is benefiting from Mendy’s pinpoint crosses as a result of they’re delivered early.

There may be nothing worse than a full-back who takes three touches to get management of the ball when one ought to be sufficient.

Do you know? Mendy delivered 12 crosses from open play towards Huddersfield – probably the most of any participant this weekend.

Midfielders – Gylfi Sigurdsson, David Silva, James Maddison, Marcos Alonso

Gylfi Sigurdsson: Gylfi Sigurdsson did not set the world alight for Everton beneath Ronald Koeman and Sam Allardyce final season, after a big-money transfer to Goodison. Nevertheless, this season – beneath Marco Silva – he would possibly.

The Iceland worldwide was excellent towards Southampton and, for me, the most effective participant on the park. The place simply behind the striker appears to convey the most effective out of Sigurdsson and, on this event, Everton as effectively.

I simply hope Everton followers deal with Silva higher than they handled Allardyce.

Do you know? No participant created extra probabilities this weekend than Sigurdsson (six).

David Silva: After watching Manchester Metropolis demolish Huddersfield at Etihad Stadium, orchestrated by David Silva, it left me in little doubt that back-to-back Premier League titles is severely on.

Having seen Manchester United’s shambolic efficiency at Brighton, I feel Liverpool are the one group who can cease Metropolis.

United boss Jose Mourinho can say Manchester Metropolis’s fly-on-the-wall documentary lacks class however Metropolis appear to ooze class with each transfer, and the classiest of all of them is David Silva.

Do you know? The Spaniard scored his first direct free-kick aim for Manchester Metropolis of their 6-1 win towards Huddersfield.

James Maddison: I did not see numerous James Maddison within the Championship however I used to be impressed together with his efficiency towards Manchester United within the opening sport of the season.

The midfielder appeared to get his reward every week later towards Wolves together with his first Premier League aim, although I used to be a bit perturbed by Jamie Vardy’s problem on Matt Doherty.

Leicester supervisor Claude Puel claimed his centre-forward’s problem, which resulted in Vardy receiving his marching orders, was merely over-enthusiastic. Please! Scoring a aim and waving your shirt over your head is over-enthusiastic. Going right into a deal with at breakneck velocity and making contact just under the opponent’s knee is reckless.

Do you know? Maddison scored together with his solely shot of the sport. The Leicester participant has been immediately concerned in 5 targets in his previous six dwelling league video games (three targets, two assists), as many as within the earlier 24.

Marcos Alonso: It is a very totally different Chelsea beneath Maurizio Sarri than it was beneath Antonio Conte. For a begin, the Blues performed components of the sport as if they’d forgotten the way to defend.

It isn’t that way back that Chelsea had the most effective defensive file within the league and, with higher ending from Arsenal, the Gunners might have gone on to win this London derby.

Thankfully for Chelsea, Marcos Alonso was readily available to use the crowning glory to a really entertaining soccer match. Final week, towards Manchester Metropolis, I mentioned Arsenal would do effectively to complete within the high six. This efficiency towards Chelsea was a lot improved. The truth is, they deserved a draw. However I’ve not modified my place.

Do you know? Alonso supplied the help for Chelsea’s opener towards Arsenal, earlier than scoring their third in a 3-2 victory.

Forwards – Callum Wilson, Sergio Aguero, Harry Kane

Callum Wilson: Callum Wilson has scored on 5 separate events towards West Ham and, after his newest efficiency towards the Hammers, I can see why. The best way he breezed previous Fabian Balbuena and Pablo Zabaleta was scary from a Hammers perspective.

Pellegrini was so shocked, as he was dissatisfied, that West Ham followers left the stadium with 10 minutes to play. He does have a degree. An terrible lot can occur on a soccer subject in 10 minutes – particularly if the followers play their half.

That mentioned, this was a rocky Hammers horror present.

Do you know? Wilson has scored in three successive league video games for the primary time since April 2015, when the Cherries have been in Championship.

Sergio Aguero: The Buenos Aires murderer is at it once more. Sergio Aguero was at his lethal greatest towards a Huddersfield aspect who appeared outgunned, outclassed and left for useless in a 6-1 drubbing.

It additionally seems like the customarily flamable relationship between supervisor Pep Guardiola and the Argentina worldwide is again to its greatest.

Aguero left the pitch to a standing ovation after scoring his 13th hat-trick for Metropolis. As he left the pitch, Guardiola sealed Aguero’s efficiency with a kiss. It does not get higher than that.

Do you know? The Argentine striker scored a hat-trick towards the Terriers from simply 4 pictures on the right track.

Harry Kane: So, Harry Kane has laid the August ghost to relaxation. Lastly, Spurs followers don’t must trouble themselves anymore with this totally ineffective statistic.

To be brutally trustworthy, Kane ought to have had a hat-trick however the aim he did rating was so unbelievably superb I did not care concerning the ones he missed.

Spurs are wanting good once more and that is all that issues proper now. Think about what it is going to be like when the brand new stadium is prepared.

Do you know? Kane’s aim was his first Premier League aim within the month of August. It took the England ahead 15 video games, 1065 minutes and 49 pictures.

Now it is your flip

You’ve got seen my picks this week. However who would you go for?

The Crooks of the matter…

Raheem Sterling’s glorious end towards Arsenal final week opened up an attention-grabbing debate.

The Manchester Metropolis star was greeted all through the match with boos and jeers, a characteristic that has adopted the younger man’s profession since his audacious departure from Liverpool, and it prompted my dear friend and BBC colleague Ian Wright to ask the query ‘why?’

I’ve met Raheem and interviewed him on quite a few events for Soccer Focus and, I need to say, I have not met many younger males who’ve impressed me fairly as a lot.

Other than his well mannered manner and welcoming smile, he possesses the identical steeliness I noticed in Cristiano Ronaldo as an 18-year-old.

Cristiano Ronaldo joined Manchester United in the summertime of 2003

Each males have been subjected to extraordinary abuse from followers through the years, and far of that vitriol has been fuelled by many components. I bear in mind in 1998 when Diego Simeone did simply sufficient to impress David Beckham to react and get despatched off towards Argentina. England went out of the World Cup due to their incapability to take penalties – and never as a result of the midfielder was despatched off. Beckham, nonetheless, carried the can.

The abuse that adopted the Manchester United star was outrageous. Related punishment was meted out throughout John Terry’s lengthy and distinguished profession at Chelsea. The purpose is that soccer followers, so long as I can bear in mind, have at all times harboured a determine of hate. Somebody to scream and shout at and others to like and to hate. It is what defines us.

I used to be prompted by how love can so rapidly flip to hate in soccer once I lately met Sol Campbell. I had the pleasure of sharing a couple of moments with this soccer large at Stamford Bridge, shortly earlier than Chelsea took on Arsenal. No doubt probably the greatest defenders this nation has produced, he was subjected to probably the most terrible abuse by Spurs followers when he left for Arsenal in the summertime of 2001.

I bear in mind Sol being bemused by the sheer depth of their venom – nonetheless the interval was greatest described by a Tottenham fan when he mentioned: “We hate him a lot as a result of we cherished him a lot.”

Raheem Sterling is a Premier League winner with Manchester Metropolis

And that’s the level. Hate, in soccer, can so usually be wrapped up in secret admiration of a participant or a group.

What Sterling ought to do is take the abuse he’s receiving as an infinite praise.

Firstly, it will not final and, secondly, solely the easiest gamers – with the odd exception – ever obtain such consideration.

BBC Sport – Football ultras_FC_Barcelona

ultras FC Barcelona - https://ultrasfcb.com/football/10697/

#Barcelona

#Football

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mysteryfanfictheatre3000 · 7 years

Text

Back to the Frollo, Chapter 16

Warning: yet more Anti-Romanyism!

Chapter Sixteen

Jacki introduced me to Madame d'Arcy, who had welcomed Jacki into her home two months earlier. Madame d'Arcy would've been alone for most of the summer, for her husband and son were in England on family business, and her niece and new husband were honeymooning in southern France. She was grateful to have 'Jacqueline', as she called Jacki, keep her company for the balance of the summer.

Wait, Jacki’s been here for two months straight? Why?! Seeing as Fern has the car and is hogging the technology Jacki created, and Jacki’s stuck in the past because Danisha and Frollo want to have sex, it makes me think Fern and Jacki have some sort of messed up, power-imbalanced relationship here, leaving Jacki stranded so Fern can have fun.

While Claude and Madame d'Arcy were deep in conversation, I took Jacki and Fern aside and finally asked them, "Is this why you didn't want me to come inside? Because of a sweet old lady?" Jacki then explained that the d'Arcys were her French ancestors. "That's the first thing I did when I invented the time traveler; I wanted to research my family tree", replied Jacki, "I guess all that time spent studying quantum physics and advanced calculus paid off."

Again, you could be stopping Hitler. Or at the very least making tons of money off this tech and helping make the world a better place. But yes, by all means, visit your weird old relatives.

Jacki glanced lovingly at Mme. d'Arcy; then, Fern explained further, "We're keeping this to ourselves. She doesn't even know; we can't risk affecting outcomes." I mulled over that last statement, "can't risk affecting outcomes."

But falling in love with an extremely powerful man and changing everything about him is okay. That can’t affect the outcomes of anything. But telling an insignificant old lady that this girl is related to her? That could cause a tear in the time-space continuum!!!!

Fern then went on to explain that was why I was kept in the dark; that is, until Claude Frollo revealed nearly everything. Jacki, looking at Claude, who was now conversing with Kyle, smiled and said, "We had a feeling he'd tell you sooner or later." She tried not to break out in laughter as she moved her eyes from me, then to Claude, then back to me. "Fern said you two have become quite an..ahem..item."

Yes, unfortunately.

I returned the smile, coolly saying, "Well...let's just say that His Grace and I are...hmmm...'real' close friends." Claude glanced over at me; I guessed he picked up on the giggles coming from our side of the room. He came over to me while Kyle was still conversing with Mme. d'Arcy. "Did they tell you everything?" I linked my arm in his and replied, "Almost, but I'm still not clear on... "How I knew where to start digging? Who filled in the holes of my research?", said Jacki, who directed our attention to another elderly lady entering the room, "Ask Aunt Perle."

Great, another random character no one cares about to be added into the mix for no reason.

Perle Darcey? Isn't that Jacki's daddy's aunt? His 95-year-old aunt? Sure enough, all eyes were on the petite lady entering the room. I only saw her twice in my life, once when I was a little kid, and, at Jacki's high school graduation. Aunt Perle steadily and cautiously made her way into the room; she was leaning on a cane. At ninety-five, she was still the picture of elegance and grace. Her floor-length beige-colored linen dress, with its matching, wide-brimmed hat and low-heeled pumps, highlighted her cafe au lait complexion.

And unnecessary description of said random useless new character, naturally.

Her face, lightly dusted with powder and rouge, looked surprisingly young and vital, despite Perle's advanced years. Kyle offered to help Perle to her chair, but she politely refused. "Thank you, honey", she said in a warm, loving voice, "but I can manage. Been doing it for all these years." Fern, Kyle, and Jacki excused themselves from the room. All Jacki could say was that she and Fern were preparing something special for Sunday dinner.

More plot twists, mysteries and surprises that make no sense in this weird romance/sci-fi/erotica mess of a story.

Perle settled herself in a chair next to Mme. d'Arcy, turned to her, and said, "Marie-Louise, you have a lovely garden; that nice gentleman staying with you showed me all your flowers and trees.." She then turned to Claude, looked at him for several seconds, then she smiled and said, at last, "He looks something like you, but younger and not as grand." Claude Frollo looked puzzled, then glanced at Mme. d'Arcy with quesioning eyes. I managed to catch his eye and mouthed, "Who? What?" Claude quickly shook his head, his face registered utter, yet, pleasant, surprise as another figure entered the room.

…another random new character?! Why?! What does this have anything to do with the established plot? It focused on Frollo and Danisha’s “epic courtship.” At this point you may as well be writing about anything or anyone; replace Frollo with “Steve” or “Bob” and it would make no difference.

I studied this tall, slender man approaching us; I could readily see the family resemblance. But whereas Claude was serious, austere, meticulous, and carried himself with a regal air, this man's entire demeanor suggested endless pleasure, an 'I-don't-care' attitude towards life.

Oh boy, is it Jehan? Jehan was innocent! He doesn’t deserve this! (Well, he was a drunk and a deadbeat in the book and musical. But honestly, his alcoholism pales in comparison to, y’know, burning down Paris because you want to rape a girl.)

The man walked up to Aunt Perle and handed something to her. "I believe you dropped these during our walk." She thanked him as she took her gloves. He then turned to Claude, who tried to keep his surprise in check. Claude told me everything about his brother, Jehan; I felt I already knew him, even before this meeting. "Claude", Jehan warmly began, as he clasped the elder brother's hands, "I really wanted to come to Paris, make myself known; but, I was having a such a lovely time here. Mme. d'Arcy insisted that I stay; then I met this charming lady." He smiled at Perle Darcey as if she were an old friend.

Oh no… Also, in the musical at least, Jehan was Quasi’s father. He married Floricka, had a son and then he and his wife died of plague and left Claude to raise the baby. I’m assuming she’s using this version of Jehan or some other ballet or play, because she seems too dumb to read a whole Victor Hugo novel. In that case, though, why isn’t he dead?

Hmmm...Claude told me Jehan has a habit of...Oh no!...sponging off not one...but TWO sweet old ladies?...this man is too much... Claude greeted his brother, to my surprise, in like manner. "Jehan, you could have informed me...I'm glad you're here. You look well." Jehan then turned to me and said, "So...you're the one." What did he mean by that? Does Jehan know that Claude and I are lovers?

Does it really matter?! Everyone else knows!

Claude Frollo, sensing the slight tension in my expression, quickly spoke, "This is Fern's friend", as he took my hand and completed introductions. "She's very pretty", Jehan smilingly said, then he leaned over and whispered in Claude's ear, "You always did have excellent taste." With that, Claude and Jehan broke down in laughter and embraced each other, just like loving brothers.

As The Fanfiction Critic put it in her review of “Marie,” a less creepy but similarly terrible Hunchback of Notre Dame fic, Jehan was a deadbeat. He spent all his money on hookers and booze. He and Claude never had a great relationship. Hell, in the musical, Claude was the one that got him kicked out of Notre Dame!

Claude told me that he raised Jehan from a baby, ever since the death of their parents; he tried to instill in his brother the same virtues that made Claude a successful man. However, Jehan liked to gamble and have fun, drifting from one thing to another; he was almost always broke. Claude loved his brother dearly, despite Jehan's shortcomings.

And here we have another creepy attempt to make Frollo seem like a kind person!

"Minister Frollo", said Mme. d'Arcy, "your brother has been absolutely wonderful. Even with Jacqueline here, we two old ladies are grateful for his company." Claude just replied with a slight smile and glanced at his brother as if to say, "Oh, I know why you're here...you'll never change..." Kyle then returned to the room to announce dinner was ready. Mme. d'Arcy then proudly announced that, "My dear Jacqueline and her friends have prepared a special dinner." She then turned to Kyle and asked, "Now, young man, what is the main course?" Kyle replied, "What you are about to experience is a summertime Sunday dinner that is common in the New World, that is, my part of the New World."

No one cares about dinner. Do I have to reiterate these scenes are boring and unnecessary? I’m using “unnecessary” so often it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.

Perle laughed as she added, "Isn't that something, to come all the way to France just to eat Fern's fried chicken." Claude's eyes widened in anticipation; he looked at me and said, "Fried chicken? You promised me such a meal...remember?" He started laughing as I helped Perle to her feet; Jehan escorted the ladies to the dining room. I then took Claude Frollo aside and whispered in his ear, "Well...we were...er...busy", referring to that crazy, passion-filled night.

Ugh, don’t remind me.

Claude was overcome with humor as he escorted me to the dining room. A traditional Sunday dinner served in countless homes across the Midwest: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, hot bread, green beans, sliced tomatoes, Fern's homemade blackberry cobbler. It was a meal that Mme. d'Arcy, Claude, nor Jehan had ever experienced.

And thus, would likely get sick from.

Over the course of the summer, I served Claude a variety of native American foods, of which he liked pecans and corn best. "Mmm...'corn'", said Jehan, helping himself to seconds (or was it thirds), "and I like the red things...'tomatoes'." The conversation was a delicious as the food. Mme. d'Arcy praised Fern's culinary talents; and Aunt Perle, who nodded at Jacki, said, "Jacki cooked the beans, just like I taught her and her Mama." I leaned over to Perle and whispered, "When are you going to tell us the family history?" Perle whispered back, "Marie-Louise always takes a nap after dinner; you all will know all about the Darceys then."

No one cares about the Darcey’s family history. Why are we reading about an awkward family dinner between a bunch of OCs and some random Hunchback of Notre Dame characters?

Claude had his brother in stitches as Claude repeated that "Hoosier and Kentuckian" story. Fern laughed and whispered to me, "Well, I've seen someone's been tellin' those stories again."

Why does she keep bringing this unfunny joke she stole from her sister up?!

Jehan then asked about other native American foods. "Fern, you talked about pumpkins. I understand they're only available in the fall." Fern nodded, then I piped up, "Jehan, why don't you and Claude come for Thanksgiving dinner. Then you can eat all the pumpkin pie you want." Jehan looked puzzled. "Thanksgiving? What is that?", he asked.

Why do they all care so very much about America and its history and customs? It doesn’t exist yet!

Claude knowledgably replied, "A holiday unique to their part of the New World; they set aside a day to give thanks for their country's bounty." All eyes were on Claude as he continued, "They celebrate with family gatherings and serve foods native to their country." Kyle, his eyes wide with amazement, said, "Wow, Your Grace, you sure know a lot about Amer...ahem...our country." Then Claude Frollo glanced lovingly at me. "My boy, I had a marvelous teacher." I tried to be modest about it all; indeed, I had told Claude much about American history and culture.

Everyone loves Danisha and Frollo is the best. We get it, story, stop shoving it down our throats.

Perle then said to Jehan, "Honey, if you come to my house, you better bring your appetite, because I cook everything: turkey, ham, cornbread, greens, chitlins..." Jehan interrupted, "Beg pardon, madame, but what are 'chitlins'?" Jacki looked at me, I looked at Fern, whose face registered a certain level of disgust. She looked Jehan squarely in the eyes and said, "Jehan, my mama cooked those things every Christmas and Thanksgiving. She made sure to set that stinkin' pot right next to me,'cause she knew I hated 'em."

NONE OF THIS HAS ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME. THIS IS JUST RANDOM OCS EATING DINNER.

Everyone except Jehan started laughing; I had told Claude all about Fern's 'chitlin story' a few days ago, when he had asked the same question. I just said to Jehan, "Sugar, don't ask what they are; you don't want to know." That said, we continued to enjoy a pleasant Sunday afternoon dinner and lively conversation.

++++++++++++

"The d'Arcys fell on hard times during the 18th Century. Some of the family began emigating to the American colonies." Perle began to explain how the French d'Arcys became the American Darceys.

Who cares about this stupid family? This is just filler, and not even entertaining filler!

Mme. d'Arcy had gone upstairs for her after-dinner nap. Everyone else gathered around Aunt Perle as she began to recount her family's history. "My great-great grandfather was Henri d'Arcy. He settled near Lake Charles, Lousiana, bought some land, and started a small sugar plantation." Claude asked Perle, "How are you related to the d'Arcys; and, how did the the name change to 'Darcey'?"

[a long, dull passage about family history that I cut because it was stupid]

No one cares. Repeat after me: no one cares. No one cares. No one ca-

Perle continued, "Henri had a son, Jean-Paul. He was my great grandfather. Well, he had a wife; but, he also had a mistress. That was Sally, one of the house slaves." Claude and Jehan were both visibly disturbed at the word 'slave'. "That's right, Claude", I said, as I held his hand, "America has a dark, ugly past..." Claude's eyes were now scanning my entire face. "That explains your coloring, your features...the brown skin, the full lips...your hair...Danisha, your African ancestors were never willing immigrants...", Claude looked somewhat bewildered as he fingered a lock of my hair.

Why is he so put off by this?! He wanted to murder Romani simply for having the nerve to exist! He burned down Paris because he wanted to rape Esmeralda! He abused Quasimodo for years! He shot/stabbed Phoebus for not killing a bunch of innocent people with fire! Slavery should mean nothing to him. He shouldn’t care, because he’s a messed up human being!

[another long passage about the Civil War, cut because not only was it stupid but it contained various racial slurs I am uncomfortable with publishing.]

"But how did the name change?", asked Kyle.

NO ONE CARES ABOUT THIS.

"My father was still a baby when the census people came. Neither of my grandparents could read or write", explained Aunt Perle. "Now, most slaves had no real last names; they always took the name of their slaveowners

Well, few people have any real last names in this current timeframe, either. They all have names that relate to their profession for the most part, i.e. Mason, Baker, Smith, etc. Esmeralda didn’t have a last name. Hell, Esmeralda was barely even a name in the book; people referred to her as “la esmeralda” or “the emerald” because she wore a necklace with an emerald on it. Her real name is Agnes, which she, along with everyone else, didn’t know.

Well, since Jean-Paul d'Arcy was my grandfather's last master, that was the name he took. 'Course, when he had to give the census people his name, I think they just wrote down what it sounded like, 'Darcey'." At once, Claude understood the name change. "It was those responsible for recording the names...that explains it", he began, then added, "Yet, obviously, your father, and then you, were able to secure a proper education. Surely the name could have been changed to its original French."

Why does he care so much about this, anyway?

[another incredibly long, somewhat racist segment cut because of stupidity and racism].

Fern then said to me, "You know, we oughta throw a farewell party." Kyle and I immediately jumped on this. "Yeah", I said, "it could be a farewell-thanks-for-the-memories party." Jehan Frollo, pouring himself another cup of wine, commented, "A party? Oh...I do love a good party, even though my brother thinks they're a waste of time." "Oh really", Claude answered his brother, "since when did I dislike a party?" He then told Fern that he enjoyed pleasant social gatherings, "As long as the festivities are not too raucous."

Claude Frollo just loves him a party, as evidenced by him calling the Feast of Fools a “shallow, drunken stupor.”

Fern just looked at him and said in a matter-of-fact voice, "I'm not suggesting a wild, no-holds-barred orgy; you forgot that I was at the Feast of Fools this past winter. Now that was wild." Claude acknowledged this as Fern continued, "Our party'll be just good, clean fun. Good music, good food, good company. So, Your Grace, can I count on your presence?"

Please no.

I quickly glanced at Claude with an expression that read, 'You better say yes'. Claude, sensing this, immediately told Fern that he "would be delighted to attend your little function". Then, he added, "And, so you won't have the whole of Paris swarming all over your home, I'll have my men block off the streets to traffic. That way, your guests may freely mill about the neighborhood."

Shutting down an entire city because he wants to party. Talk about self-absorbed.

Jehan then spoke up in mock-indignation, "What's this? My brother's actually using his authority just to please his new-found friends?" Perle got up and walked over to Jehan. She patted him on the shouder and chuckled, "Baby, sometimes it's nice to have important folks as friends, and your brother's one of them." She then told Fern, "I hope you plan on some nice barbeque; I always enjoy good barbequed ribs." Once again, Jehan Frollo asked about another American custom totally foreign to him. "And what is 'barbeque'? Sounds odd but delicious", he then turned to his brother, who began to loftily explain as everyone started laughing. "'Barbeque'", began Claude Frollo, "is taken from the American Spanish word..."

How would he even know the linguistics of the word barbecue? He didn’t know what a boom box was called but he knows obscure, random things like this. It’s so weird.

********** I remained outside while Claude, two guards, and a servant went inside the cottage. He wanted me to stay outside because, as he reasoned, I may be put off by the soldier's injuries. It was the servant who came to Paris with the information. Apparently the ex-soldier had been gravely injured and taken to the cottage to recover. I know I shouldn't think like this...that soldier must be pretty banged up...but...I hope Snowball's OK...

Because the horse matters more than the human life, right?

I paced outside, waiting for Claude. What's taking so long? Just then, a stableboy, a fine, black horse, and another figure approached the cottage. Immediately I could make out the face of the man. "Jehan!", I exclaimed, running up to him. I embraced him and said, "But why are you here? How did you know Claude and I were here?" Jehan Frollo returned the embrace (sibling-style hugs -- Jehan knows not to mess with his brother's women). "Oh, didn't the servant inform my brother? Damn! I knew this would happen..." He then said to me, "I'm the one who found the man, and Snowball. The horse is fine, but that man...Danisha, I don't expect him to survive...he's that badly injured."

Okay, but why should the reader care? We don’t know who he is!

#The Hunchback of Notre Dame #back to the frollo #Claude frollo #danisha

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