* NATURAL 20 ! @critica1success-a - Tumblr Blog

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐄 …

#CRITICA1SUCCESS. independent &. selective MULTIMUSE of MULTIPLE FANDOMS. headcanon based with canon influences. canon divergent , VERY low activity &. mutuals only. oc , canon &. multi — muse friendly. rolled by fey.

#* / general : ooc .#* / general : saved .

Officially an archive <3 find me @critica1success which is a sideblog to @witchhaunts

#* / general : psa .#* / general : ooc .

I shall be archiving this blog and moving it over to a sideblog on @witchhaunts in the very near future so HOPEFULLY that should make me more active here

#* / general : psa .#tbd #at the very least it's like. easier for me ? to do replies ?#idk makes sense in my brain

dappermouth

You feel you’ve been here, once before — a memory that was not quite yours.

#* / diana : study .

As much as I love the muses on here and know this blog is for whenever the mood strikes me I feel really guilty for not being here

#* / general : ooc .#tbd #like. these are muses i care for and have some intricate story for #but they aren't very active for the writing zone #and many of them. are really hard headspaces to get into #i may not ever say it but they are. that's why plotting is easier #because i don't have to go overly far into them for it #but even then idk they can be A Lot sometimes #so if i ever stop plotting as hard as i had been a few minute ago #or slip towards more comfortable / comforting muses or ship talk #*vague hand gestures to all my rambling above*#idk just feeling Bad about things here even though it's a hobby lol

saintmaudes

In classic Gothic literature, the most important—and intertwining—concepts are terror and the sublime. Terror here is the subtler cousin of horror. Terror “expands the soul and awakens the faculties to a high degree of life,” the Gothic writer Ann Radcliffe said. This awakening fills the reader with a sense of the sublime.

In Southern Gothic, the most important concept is the grotesque. With the grotesque, reality is distorted into ugly and absurd shapes. “I use the grotesque the way I do because people are deaf and dumb and need help to see and hear,” Flannery O’Connor once said. By exaggerating reality, we are able to actually see it. The grotesque is a balance of contradictions. It creeps and crawls between repulsion and attraction, the real and the unreal, and humor and horror. The sublime floats in the mind, but the grotesque is experienced in the body—in turning stomachs, goose bumps, and sweat.

— Lincoln Michel, Lush Rot, in Guernica

#* / jude : study .

witchdoctrines

we shouldn't be doing this. i shouldn't be doing this. even as the thought spirals through her mind like water around a drain, she does not let go of @critica1success. em's fingers are tangled into his robes she feels as if he might float away the second she releases him and there is a selfish gnawing need not to be alone. there are many shades of not alone.

when his mouth is on hers her mind does not go silent but instead sings hymnals and praises in a tongue she cannot fathom and she is caught between the urge to be closer and to pull away. the safety of his arms, or the safety of the confessional. she has long since surpassed the threshold of damnation but in jude's eyes she feels whole once more--- but it isn't his eyes she seeks. even with his initiation, with his seeming lack of hesitation, the guilt creeps in. enunciated further when her necklace catches in her rumpling shirt and gives the chain a brief tug. at least she hopes it was the cross. a sign from god himself to stop this before it's too far gone.

with a concerted effort, she pries one hand loose from his garment, tracing the line of his jaw with the edge of her fingernails where she had intended to take hold. it's harder not to simply surrender the thing, and even as she tries to steel herself she finds herself impossibly close. the lingering smell of all things holy and how she so desperately wants to desecrate them. reluctantly, she pulls away. not entirely, still so close that she can feel his breath but far enough to meet his eyes. she needs to feel holy, if only for a moment. ❛ jude--- we don't have to do this. it doesn't need to go any further we can pretend this never happened. i don't want you to throw everything away for me... this can be enough. ❜

she doesn't release his jaw, a very gentle grip only serving to maintain the contact as she becomes aware of just how little skin she can see. of how little he knows of her sins and how very vulnerable she must become if he does not come to his senses. an offering of the self which she does not give so freely but to him she would give it all if he only says the word in this holiest of places where there is no one to hear but god. and what god would begrudge her the right to worship at his feet, has he not suffered enough ? haven't they both ?

❛ i want this. ❜

don't play with my feelings. don't tell me what i want to hear. her heart leaps into her throat and it feels like such a deafening sound. a drumbeat to the hymnals that have not stopped singing in her head. does he know how maddening he is? does he know what lengths she would go to even as her breath catches in the silence that sits between them in the aftermath of the admission. her hand traces the line of his jaw up, before sliding to the back of his neck drawing him closer until their lips just barely begin to brush.

❛ i want you... but if you need to--- if this becomes too much... ❜ she doesn't finish the thought, instead pulling him in, unable to bear his gaze any longer. not when she feels her resolve breaking and she wants to smell of every holy thing and not of death and fear and heartbreak. she wants to engrave him into her bones sear his fingerprints into her memory more than she craves the forgiveness of god, so long as jude will forgive her in the end.

critica1success-a

HE SHOULD FEEL GUILT. he does feel guilt , not only for himself but for her. yet it's teeth are dull in comparison to the way em opens him to the bone. his undead heart , a thing just as traitorous as his name , feels raw against the might of her touch.

when she stops , he can't help but lean into her palm , even as she tries to talk sense into them both. they could stop &. the least amount of harm would come to them. god would not shun him for a momentary transgression ; cracks in a vow were not the same as breaking them. anything more &. surely he would be cast out. but did god know of the salvation that could be found in emilie's lips ?

❝ i know , ❞ he says as her voice trails off &. he does not hesitate to return the embrace. he is lost in it , in her , but feels there is more still he must do to reassure her. with extreme reluctance , he is now the one to break the kiss &. keep a tender hand on her cheek.

he looks at her for a long moment , in part to simply take her in , another to convey the depth of what he does next. keeping her gaze , jude leads her backwards until her knees touch the bench , gently coaxing her to sit again. then , carefully , deliberately , he brings himself to his knees before her. he takes his hands from her &. reaches behind his own neck. in the silence of the confessional the rustle &. click of his clerical collar unhooking sound feels sonorous. he still does not look away from her. of all the times he has turned his face to the heavens like this , he has never seen something as holy as the woman before him.

❝ i know , ❞ he says again. ❝ you're good to me , em. too good. &. i want to be so good to you. ❞

for the first time since kneeling he breaks eye contact to slide a hand along her leg , coming to rest in the crook of her knee , &. pressing a kiss just above it , to the inside. waiting for permission to go as far as she will let him.

#* / jude : interaction .#witchdoctrines #nsft #nsft //#anyways i love blasphem

userbeaufort

Maxton Hall Season 1, Episode 3

#* / luca : dynamic .#witchdoctrines.

witchhaunts

CONVERSATIONS WITH THE ELDEST SHELBY IN — LAWS — ft. @critica1success / @fearstouch / @critica1neutra1

ARTHUR : I fell down the stairs...

EM : I hope you're okay.

TOMMY : Stop falling down the stairs.

ROWENA : How'd the ground taste ?

PERSONALS DO NOT REBLOG

#* / arthur : dynamic .#* / arthur : study .#* / general : crack .#this so perfectly sums up the relationships here

wretcheddthing

everybody give it up for this brand of green. round of applause for most under appreciated green

#* / general : ooc .#ME !!! IT ME !!!!!

whalefelled

He is quietly, only a long exhale leaving him as she kisses from his shoulder to his ear. He thinks about not answering, though he knows it woyld be most unbecoming to do that.

"Yes, I do." Loghain replies after a few breathes worth of waiting. There is another pause before he rolls over slightly to glance back at her, then all the way over to wrap an arm about Krishna's waist. He goes so far to rest their foreheads together and even tangle their legs together.

"They were very interested," he allows himself to complain, with a twist of his lips.

critica1success-a

SHE'S PATIENT. SHE WAITS. she's trying very hard not to come across as condescending &. feels relieved when he answers. there's comfort in the warm pressure of their bodies coming together. the elf clings more tightly to him in response , tempering the smile that follows his admission.

❝ they were. even after i told them i'm very married &. very not interested. ❞ krishna allows a moment to tease him. ❝ rather brave of them to stick around after you swept in like a gallant hero though. ❞

#* / krishna : interaction .#whalefelled #they are so married <3

@whalefelled

Rarely did Loghain become... jealous. He was too old for such silliness, and far too secure in his relationship to bother with the emotion even when others sought a rise out of him.

Most of the time.

He was painfully aware Krishna had noticed the change in his demeanor during the night and he loathed to think how she might tease him for such foolishness, and so he tucked himself into bed, resting on his side with the blankets pulled up and his back facing her side of the bed in hopes he might just be able to feign sleep and escape her needling.

OH , SHE'D NOTICED , ALRIGHT. &. though she knows he finds it an unbecoming &. foolish notion , there is a small part of her that enjoys it. no , she doesn't want him taking a swing at everyone that looked at her too long , but it's... nice to be reminded how much he desires her &. all of her heart.

but loghain wrestles himself into bed , turning away from her , clearly disgruntled over his own behavior , so she sighs quietly as she crawls in next to him. krishna snakes her arms around his waist &. kisses him on the shoulder. she trails upward until her lips brush just below his ear.

❝ do you know how much i love you ? ❞

#* / krishna : interaction .#whalefelled #what if i made it soft :)

Happy JURGEN LEITNER ? STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEIN LEITNER Day to those who celebrate.

#* / general : ooc .#tbd #*pops in here exclusively to say this then logs back out*

witchdoctrines

the church is silent and cold at this hour, before the early rays of dawn begin to spill in only the dim splashes of moonlight through the stained glass to illuminate the hazy outlines of the pews and the edge of the steps to the altar at the end of an aisle that seems to be near endless in this quiet eternity. it is moments like this that she feels as though she could reach out and brush the face of god with the tips of her fingers, and yet she has never felt so distant as she makes her way down the aisle to kneel at the base of those steps.

from her bag she produces a collection of votive candles that she places in a semi circle, staggering them up the stairs until there is a well practiced arc, now accommodating an eleventh in the arc that was not there the year prior. her hand lingers on the edge of the glass longer than she wants to think about. later, she can say all she needs to. the final item procured from the bag before she stands to place it on a nearby pew, is a small box of matches, of which only eleven remain. it seemed to her, when she counted them this morning, almost fitting. like a small present she'd left herself. she would return it all the same if it meant she could have back those who she needs them for.

when she kneels again, the stone feels colder as her dress slides up to just over her knees and she shivers slightly, knowing that it will soon be over warmed with the crush of bodies from easter mass, and so she will savour this privacy. there are few benefits to being a shelby, but this is among them, and so she will accept it with grace as she holds the box in her shaking palms, raising her gaze to the crucifix she knows is raised far above the altar a shadow suggesting only the faintest of shapes as she extracts a match, and strikes it hard against the box. a blinding flash of momentary light as it's struck followed by the dull glow of the lit match carried gently to the first candle.

critica1success-a

IT HAS BEEN A LONG COUPLE OF YEARS. the things he's lost since the flash of a barrel carried with him ever since. luca changretta died that christmas no matter how one looks at it. his family gone , his reputation gone , any loyalty he may have once had obliterated or bought. luciano's men left his barely living body in a pile of stone cold corpses like so much refuse &. he did not rise for days. he debated with himself whether it was worth it to crawl his way out or succumb to his injury , once he was conscious enough to do so. but he knew how to subsist on vengeance. it was the only thing he had left.