#;Wandering Independence: Eve

[mournings-stars]

Hello I hope your requests are on and if they are can I have angsty and alittle platonic headcanons for Lucifer

Where him, Lilith and Charlie run into he's ex wife who he left because he lost feelings for her and started liking Lilith after years his ex wife has movied on from him and her personality has also changed to the point its like a new person and that she has gone from a soft Naive woman to a more independent and emotionally stronger one

Thank you ignore this if you like

hello im back to writing!!! … with a bit of an angst warning

i like to think the marriage with lucifer was a lot like adam and liliths, you were basically created to be his wife. despite having free will, you were made for a purpose, so you understood lilith. you probably talked about it with him, saying you felt for her. “if i didn’t love you, i don’t know what i’d do,” you say and he smiles before telling you he loves you too

“if you ever feel how she does, and didn’t want to be with me anymore, you could tell me,” he’d say one day, and you dont think much of it

but back then you were too passive. like him, you were full of beliefs, but you were much more credulous and naive, and that led him to find someone else to share his dreams with. he used them to help comfort her and cheer her up, even telling you about it

then one day he stops

you piece it together, though — even if you’re naïve, you’re not an idiot, and you just let him go on until he plans to give eve the fruit

“don’t do this,” you tell him and he feigns like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about — or he really doesn’t because you feel like you have to say, “you must think i’m stupid,” when you see the shocked look on his face. “i know what you’ve been doing. i know what you’re about to do. don’t.”

but even if he didn’t think you were stupid, he certainly knew you didn’t think about the world the same way the other angels did; he convinced you, no matter what you knew was right, that this was the right thing to do. everything would be okay! humans would have free will, and everything would be fine

of course, that was the last time you spoke. you weren’t exactly sure if you’d ended things on good or bad terms, but in his mind you absolutely hated him, never wanted to see his face again, and were glad he fell

so, of course, once he ran into you — in hell of all places — at a high society event with his wife and daughter, he was floored. his only reaction, logically of course, was to turn the opposite way and drag his wife over to one of the princes to introduce her to

“where’s charlie?” lilith would ask him after a moment and he already knew

you were an angel, one of the only angels to swallow their pride and come to this event when invited, so it only made sense that his daughter wandered over to you and your small group of other angels — probably only there on a formality, he thought — and of-fucking-course she was drawn to you

lilith was already going over to you before he could stop her, so he went after her

you already recognized charlie; she looked so much like him, but you didn’t turn away. instead, you bent to her level and talked with her, listening as the tiny child talked about her parents and toys, and anything she could think of while you nodded along and conversed with her about her fantastical stories as best you could

“charlie, honey, let’s not bother…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say your name, prompting you to look up and introduce yourself

you didn’t know if he never told lilith about you, or if she was just being kind, but it seemed like she didn’t know your name or who you were. she introduced herself with a smile and you easily understood why lucifer fell for her

“it’s been a while,” you say to him and he can’t help but smile, relieved that your voice didn’t hold any contempt for him

but he didn’t know whether to feel grateful or ashamed when you introduced yourself to his wife as an old friend

[infinite-orangepeel]

EAGLESCOUT!STEVE/PERV EDDIE WIP EXCERPT FROM CH. 1

Capture the flag is all fun and games until it’s time to clean up the equipment and Steve is wandering through the woods trying not to infect himself with poison ivy like the better half of his troop did an hour ago. Now being treated by their resident Scoutmaster/Chief of Police–Jim Hopper–with calamine lotion and an eye roll.

He’s out on his own.

Strategically voyaging through the underbrush in search of the blue team’s flag. It’s the last one on his list and he’s dying to get back to basecamp to snag a refreshing post-win lemonade with the rest of the troop. Already salivating from the promise of tangy sweetness.

The sun is about to set. Sky blushing pink while the owls hoot from the branches of pine trees. Calling out to each other in harmonious song as the day comes to a close.

Steve’s back is sticky and warm from directing the game. His cheeks are flushed, exposed thighs bitten up by mosquitoes despite multiple reapplications of Deet, and his glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose from the slick sweat coating his brow bone.

To be honest, despite the itchy heat and craving for something ice cold down his throat, Steve looks forward to rare moments like this one.

In which he can breathe easily in the reverie of temporary independence.

No one to perform for.

No one to stop him from humming a tune under his breath and stopping every so often to investigate a patch of blooming elderberries.

No one to chastise him for plopping an unwashed piece of fruit under his tongue and taking his time to savor the sweetness.

No one to point fingers and accuse him of gluttony.

Out here in the quiet, Steve can pretend all that exists are the mourning doves, rabbits running from foxes, and the subtle breeze kissing the lakeshore.

He’s content. He’s at peace.

He’s—

He’s choking on his spit at the sight of the terrible scene in front of him—two men dancing with Satan beside a picnic table.

Two men entangled in an inconceivable fashion.

Two men running their hands over each other’s skin; half naked.

Two men–

Together.

Together in the way that only a man and his wife are supposed to be once they’ve married in the church, sworn vows, and moved into the modest house at the end of the cul-de-sac beneath the weeping willows.

Steve racks his brain. Unfolds the information–the proof from the good book–that every belief he holds relies on.

The verse, he thinks–thoughts spiraling out of control, ingrained savior complex kicking in, What about the verse? Don’t they know it? Didn’t their parents warn them? It’s—Hebrews 13:4; ‘Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.’

They’ve yet to notice him. As if he’s camouflaged amongst the pine trees. Khaki blending in seamlessly like he’s just another part of the natural landscape.

In a sense, he is.

The first of the two men sinks to his knees like he’s praying for mercy as Steve has done all his life in the back of the chapel. He gazes up at the other man like he is God. Like he alone holds the divine power to cleanse sin, turn water to wine, and carve Eve from Adam’s rib.

Except, Eve doesn’t exist in this version of the story.

Eve is nowhere to be found and Steve feels like he’s entered a parallel universe where none of the former rules apply. Where this strange subset of humanity has scorched the Earth, burned the devoted ones at the stake, and anarchy now reigns.

The second stands above him in the widened prideful stance of a known pariah who foolishly believes he can outrun impending rapture and escape eternal damnation if he is clever and quick enough on his feet.

Steve can’t see his face, because similarly to the vile act he’s committing, the man is concealed by a vexing darkness. Curly tendrils of wild hair obscure his identity.

It’s odd. Unlike anyone else Steve’s ever known. Overgrown and hanging well past his shoulders. It doesn’t make sense.

Only girls are allowed to wear their hair like that. Boys like this—boys like him get sent away for such infractions. Excommunicated for their betrayal to patriarchal norms.

Men are supposed to look like men.

This man does not.

This man seems to toe and test every line and boundary like nothing can touch him.

Steve tries to get his feet to move so he can turn and run and disappear into the forest like the rest of God’s innocent creatures–the field mice, the deer, the fish in the pond–find somewhere hidden to seek asylum and preserve his fragile righteousness.

But latent curiosity slithers around him like a serpent with a fatal bite.

No cure.

No remedy.

Steve has no choice. All logical thought abandons him and perhaps for the first time in his life, he allows himself to simply watch and feel.

The man who doesn’t look all that much like a man leans a ring-covered hand back onto the rickety table like it's his personal throne and feeds his–his—genitals to the parted lips of the first.

Steve brings a hand to his own gawking mouth, ducks behind a tree to better shield himself, and tries to stall his racing heart.

“Lemme fuck your throat, baby. Open wide—wider. C’mon now play nice for me. If you’re not gagging on my cock then you can take it deeper,” the man rasps out as he thrusts his hips forwards and ensnares his black tipped nails into the hair of the kneeling man like vicious talons, “Good boy–there we go. Someone’s learned their lesson since last time, haven’t they? Stay open for me, sweetheart—keep that tongue nice and relaxed.”

thanks so much for reading !! please let me know what you think, feedback is always motivating and helpful 🥰

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[g4yr4t]

yesterday, annie and I had to make the difficult decision to put my dearly beloved childhood cat, annabell, to sleep. annabell was with me for eighteen years - since I was thirteen years old. I have so much to say about her that I'm going to put it under a cut for the sake of everyone's dashboards.

my aunt found annabell in a park when I was thirteen. or, more accurately, annabell found her. she walked right up to my aunt (and her german shepherd) and wanted to be taken home, so that's what my aunt (who had several cats and two dogs) did. my mom decided that it would actually be okay for me to have a cat after all, and she was with me for eighteen years after that. the only time we didn't live together was when I was in college and couldn't take her with me to the dorms/apartments.

she was kind of a bitch in the early days, to be honest. or at least, very strong-willed and sassy and not super cuddly. but when I was fourteen and my nana was in the hospital dying and I was crying all the time, she was sweet and snuggly to me. she was good to me when it mattered.

I thought for sure that I had lost her at least three times over the years. once, she got stuck in an attic crawlspace in my mom's house on christmas eve. I was understandably distraught, because we couldn't get her out. but then, on christmas day, she woke my mom up by yelling at her for food, having somehow figured out how to free herself.

she got also got trapped in a wall in my first apartment, and then went missing for twenty-four hours after having wandered out of my house when someone was moving in around 2020 or 2021. that was absolutely awful. she had already gone deaf by then, so even though my neighbors were super sweet and searched and called for her, I knew it was unlikely that she would turn up. then, the next day, my roommate and I were sitting in the living room and we heard this pitiful meowing. she had found her way back to our front porch and was sitting by the window outside. it had stormed the night before, and she was wet and matted and hungry but still very alive. after that, we got her a collar with a bell on it and a tag with her name and annie's phone number.

she mellowed out after she lost her hearing and became much more social, planting herself in the middle of parties and gatherings to take up space while sleeping. she got up into my lap sometimes, and while she wasn't exactly cuddly, she would sit there until I absolutely had to move her. she wouldn't take a hint or move when I changed positions - I had to physically remove her from my body.

she loved to go outside, even though she had been an indoor cat since my aunt found her in that park. we were planning on harness training her, but her joints became stiff and it got harder for her to walk and we had to move out of the house with the good backyard. she came with my to five different houses and apartments, with more and more moving in her later years. I am deeply sad that she will not be coming with me to my next apartment, or to wherever I eventually "settle down" (which will hopefully happen someday soon).

but she was sick, and had been for a long time. even though she was eighteen and had arthritis and respiratory problems that included a very upsetting cough, her sudden decline was surprising. within the past week, she lost her ability to jump, stopped eating independently (we fed her by hand), and completely lost control of her bladder. I picked her up and put her on the couch to sleep the last couple of nights so that she could be next to me. she couldn't come up on my bed to smack me in the face for food at 4am anymore (I would hear the jingling of her collar, then she would hit me in the face... jingle, smack. heavy breathing. smack.).

she was such a huge part of my life, and it even though she was doing very badly as of yesterday, I still had hope that we could give her meds and take her home so that she could pass here instead of at the vet's office. but that isn't how it happened. I hate that that isn't how it happened. we buried her in my mom's backyard because she loved to be outside and we don't have a backyard with real dirt right now and we'll be moving soon anyway. even though I know it isn't the case, I still feel like I let her down. leaving my mom's house still felt like abandoning her. I already miss her so, so much, and it's going to be very weird to live without her.

annabell, I loved you dearly. I still love you dearly. there is a hole in my heart where you were. you were a cat, but also a friend and a companion and the longest lasting relationship in my life outside of my (human) family members. we watched each other grow up for eighteen years. I will never stop grieving, even when I stop crying for you all the time, because that's how love works. I miss you, my old lady. goodnight.

[sainzfilm]

🍬 peppermint kisses - toto wolff 🍬

summary: spending christmas eve at a local coffee shop around the area seemed lonely for a stranger passing by you at the window. but maybe, it’s not so lonely when a stranger takes a seat across you.

taglist: @svechyaho @squderia @idkiwantchocolatee @koufaxx @melonunicornbby @myescapefromthislife @slut-era @pachiibatt @estevries @dan3avocado @sidcrosbyspuck @barzysreputation @verclercswiftie @mick2mercedes

check out my winter wonderland celebration!

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Shivering from the cold, you shoved your free hand inside your pocket and held the phone to your ear as your best friend talked your ear off, “You know, you should’ve come with me to a tropical country for Christmas!”

“Oh please, Monaco has been in my bucket list for the longest time,” You replied, “Plus! A sense of independence would be nice.”

“Sure it is, Y/N,” She laughed through the phone, “Who knows if you’re just looking for your dream man over there.”

Rolling your eyes as you carefully crossed the street, you mumbled, “I’ve only been here for two days, I haven’t gone scouting.”

“Then you better go,” Jess exclaimed, laughing softly, “I gotta go now. I’ll see you next year, I love you! Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“I will, and you’re going to see me soft launch him on Instagram,” You lightly teased, “Merry Christmas, Jess. See you, love you!”

As you put your phone back in your bag, you sighed and spotted a cozy little café at the far end of the street, deciding to make a beeline for it.

“Ah, the warmth,” You exhaled, taking off your scarf and walking up to the cashier to order, “Hm, one peppermint mocha hot chocolate and…a pain au chocolat, some macarons please.”

Quickly paying up, you wandered off to the bookshelf that was located across the counter and pulled off a random spine that appealed to you before finding a cozy spot by the café’s window.

Despite the fact that you were spending Christmas eve alone in a place that was absolutely foreign to you, it was pretty fascinating to see the locals. Children running after each other to go off on their little adventures or couples holding hands as they tread down the sidewalk to God knows where.

On the other hand, Toto was walking wherever his feet decided to take him. He didn’t have any plans for the holidays, which led him to wandering off to some place that he’d spend Christmas eve at.

Spotting a café across the street, Toto shrugged and walked towards it, immediately noticing you – a girl slicing her pain au chocolat while reading ‘The Godfather’ on the other hand. Maybe, he did have a plan for the holidays.

As Toto entered the café, he couldn’t help but take a quick glance at you – eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as you took a bite of the French pastry and mouthed the words that you read. He smiled to himself and ordered his usual at other cafés, a black coffee and a croissant.

“Excusez moi mademoiselle,” Toto cleared his throat, putting his hands behind his back, “Est-ce que cette place est occupée?” Excuse me miss, is this seat taken?

“Huh?” You looked up from your book, frowning in confusion, “I’m not French, so…I can’t understand what you just said.”

“Oh, my bad,” Toto chuckled nervously, mentally hitting himself straight on the forehead, “I was wondering if this seat is taken?”

“Uh, not at all actually,” You smiled sheepishly, coming to realization that an attractive man had approached you, “Feel free to do so.”

“Thank you, I couldn’t help but notice the book you’re reading,” He smiled, pointing at your book and taking a seat, “A favorite of mine, as well as the film adaptation.”

“Not to burst your bubble but,” You exhaled, setting the book down and shrugging, “I haven’t seen the film.”

Toto blinked a few times from your statement, now feeling a little rusty on how he could make a move on a pretty girl, “You should see it sometime. One of the greatest films ever made, alongside the second one. The third was not so…great.”

“Seeing how passionate you are, I’ll take your word for it,” You grinned, reaching over to hold out your hand, “My name’s Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Toto smiled, promptly shaking your hand and feeling a surge of what teenagers would call ‘sparks’ go through him, “I’m Toto.”

Leaning back against the chair and taking a sip of your hot chocolate, you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “So, what brings you here to this café at Christmas eve?”

“Just thought it was beautiful,” He replied with somewhat of a lie, “You? I’m assuming you’re not from Monaco.”

“Yeah, I’m not from around here,” You nodded with a smile, “I wanted to check out the park, but it was chilly, so I opted to warm up with hot chocolate.”

“I can tell, you’ve got something over here,” Toto muttered, reaching over to wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb and sitting back, “All good.”

Freezing for a moment, you thanked the universe that the weather could be the reason behind your flushed face right now.

“So, uh, since you’re already here,” You cleared your throat, setting down your empty cup, “Do you maybe…want to welcome Christmas together? Since you’re alone, I’m alone – it’s a win-win, I’m rambling.”

“Sounds great, looks like Santa came in early with my gift,” Toto grinned, stealing a macaron from your plate, “Tell me about yourself.”

With less than an hour until midnight, it was surprising that the two of you have not run out of topics to talk about. You took a bite of the croissant and laughed, “So you’re saying that you’re a hit amongst younger women? Especially on social media?”

“That’s what my friend tells me,” Toto chuckled, raising his hands, “It’s the charm, I’m telling you.”

“Sure, the charm,” You teasingly mocked him with air quotes, “So you’re saying you charmed me? By asking if this seat was taken?”

“To be fair, I was enamored,” He crossed his arms with small smile, “Plus, I am a little rusty if I were to be honest.”

“Don’t flatter me, Toto,” You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes before checking the clock behind him, “You wanna…take a walk to the park? It’s nearly midnight.”

Toto turned around in his chair to check the clock before turning back to you with a smile, standing up, “Let’s go.”

Grabbing your coat, you walked out of the café with Toto walking beside you and exhaled, “It feels like it’s way colder now.”

“It’s not that bad, Y/N,” Toto nudged your shoulder playfully, “I can be your human heater.”

“Oh jeez,” You laughed, punching his shoulder playfully and taking a deep breath before grabbing his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, “There. You’re hinting at it anyway.”

“Getting bold over there, hm?” He teased, secretly enjoying the fact that a pretty girl was holding his hand, “Is it Christmas now?”

“In about three minutes,” You smiled, standing in the middle of the park’s pathway that was lit up with Christmas lights, “Park’s pretty empty, I guess people are in their homes.”

“Well, that makes this moment a lot better,” He chuckled softly, standing in front of you, “Don’t hate me after midnight?”

Raising an eyebrow, you replied, “Why would I?”

As Toto heard the churches bells ring altogether, he took a deep breath and held your face, leaning in to kiss you passionately as fireworks and cheers erupted around the city. Your heart picked up its pace, wrapping your arms around his neck and doing the ‘foot pop’ as Mia Thermopolis from The Princess Diaries described.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” Toto pulled away with a soft smile, rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks tenderly, “Your lips taste like peppermint.”

“What a way to ruin the moment,” You laughed and leaned your forehead against his chest before looking back up at him with a smile, “Merry Christmas, Toto.”

“Okay, let me un-ruin the moment,” He grinned, pulling you in for another one and holding you by your waist, “One more.”

[redheadspark]

barry with prompt 16 please! 🤲🏾🥺

A/N - CUTE CUTE! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Trace

Summary - Barry traces when he's lost. You help him find his way

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

“Barry….you alright?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re tracing my arm, darling,”

Barry paused his finger that was dragging along your forearm, almost like he was frozen in his spot as he was looking at his finger against your skin.  You watched you, your book in your other hand while the wind was whistling outside your flat, showing signs of an upcoming rainstorm. The cars bustling by outside your slightly open window and the sounds of the bar down the street still thriving and echoing through the nigh, but you were focusing on Barry and how he almost looked…lost in though so to speak.  

You noted he’s been doing this lately, getting lost in his head and thinking a bit too long and too deep.  He had a lot of his plate lately, plenty of movie and tv show projects that were coming out one by one, which then brought on tons of interviews and tv spots to promote.  You were surprised at how much Barry had the energy to come back to you and take you out to dinner after a full day of interviews or doing a promotional tour.  But then again, he loved this kind of life and staying consistently busy, he hated being bored and finding nothing to do.  There were times you were in fact worried about him with how much work he was doing and how little down time he was having, but then again you knew Barry was taking himself rather well.

Yet tracing your arm was one of those signs that showed he was loosing his train of thought.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” You asked, closing your book with a snap and tossing it on the couch while Barry shook his head.

“Nothin’ for ya to worry ‘bout,” He reasoned, but you tutted and traced the back of his neck with your fingers to feel the tension.

“You’re lost in thought,” You explained, seeing him give you. A confused look while you kept talking, “You make a face when you’re deep in thought.  Is it good thoughts or bad thoughts?”

“Erm….both good and bad,” He explained, seeming a bit sheepish in telling you as your smiled.  Barry hated talking about his feelings, at least to other people.  It took you some times to get him comfortable in telling you all that was weighing on him, which made sense given the fact that he had to take care of hisemlf most of his life.  Leaning in another person was hard thing to do when you were used to being alone, and you were also used to being independent.

Barry, when his mind would wander or something was distracting him, would trace his fingers on something.  It was almost a way for him to channel his energy and to stay grounded: his leg when he would sit, the tabletop in front of him, or even his thumb tracing the knuckles on his other hand.  Some kind of movement needed to happen, and when you were sitting next to him, his fingers would slowly move over to your arm.

He loved touching you in any way he could, eve since you two were introduced and started dating.  Something about being able to touch you when you are close enough made him feel safe, almost leveled in a way.  A hand placed on your lower back when you two walk together, his arm dropped over your shoulder when you both would sit together, or simply holding your hand.  All of this gestures made you feel so giddy like a girl with a school crush.  Except now your crush was a movie star and coveted by women all around the world.

Lucky you. 

“Just jobs and project comin’ up, thinkin’ about how I don’t have any free time for the next month or two,” Barry explained as he leaned into you a bit more while you both were both on the couch, “Kinda wish I could have a break,” 

“Maybe a vacation?” You suggested, seeing him hum as he was looking at your forearm again, tracing with his thumb while you were watching him with a soft smile, “Nothing wrong with a mini vacation to unwind and relax a bit.  When was the last time you had a proper vacation?”

“Not in a long time,” he replied in a grumble, you sneaking a kiss on his forehead.

“Then I think we should take a vacation,” you suggested, seeing him looking up at you with a raised brow, “You’re next project wraps in a months right?  And you have nothing else scheduled for a solid few weeks after that, so I think we should go on a proper holiday and have some time together.  What do you think?”

Barry slowly smiled, his thumb still tracing your skin as he leaned over to give you a sweet kiss on the lips.  You both ended up taking a trip to the Maldives for a solid week, you seeing the tension and worry meal away from Barry with ease.

The End

February Prompt Session

[pepplemint]

I don't know for sure how many of these are actual parallels and which I just made up but

Here's a list of all biblical references I remember in Trigun

Story-wise:

Vash & Knives acquiring "forbidden knowledge" and bringing the literal downfall of humanity (Adam & Eve eating the forbidden fruit of knowledge and getting thrown out of Eden)

The city preying on travellers being destroyed, only a girl who had been out of town left alive. (The City of Sodom; God sends two angels to carry out his judgement on the town of sin. As all the men in town rally around to kill the angels, only Lot is left alive as he leaves the town.)

Knives getting all the dependent plants that are largely being abused by humans in an attempt to bring them all to a new promised land, bringing out revenge on those that oppose them (Moses bringing the oppressed israelites out of Egypt, "and the Lord said: But I know that the king of Egypt will not let you go unless a mighty hand compels him. So I will stretch out my hand and strike the Egyptians with all the wonders that I will perform among them.")

More literal:

The plants being created by humans (God creating humans in his own image)

The plants virgin births (The Virgin Mary giving birth to Jesus)

The dependents being referred to as "angels" and having wings (the most typical depiction of biblical angels)

Wolfwood carrying a giant cross (Jesus carrying his own death sentence)

Vash forever wandering from place to place unable to make a home after shooting Knives and Knives cutting his arm off (Abel being sentenced to forever wander the desert, unable to settle down or grow anything but unable to be killed, after spilling his brother's blood)

The Eye of Michael (Archangel Michael, the right hand of God and leader of God's people in the endtime battle between heaven and hell)

The Seven Cities, two of which had Vash angel-out on them (The Five Cities of the plains - Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboim, and Bela - Sodom & Gomorrah famously destroyed by two angels for their sins)

The independent plants created as a bridge between humanity and plants, created by plants but raised by a human mother (Jesus as half divine/half human)

12 Gung Ho Guns (12 Disciples of Jesus.)

Vash's unhuman levels of forgiveness (Jeezy boy taking on the sins of mankind through his suffering)

Elendira fighting with nails (Jesus being nailed to the cross rather than tied which was custom)

Legato being "found" chained to a forked cross (Y-shaped) (Symbolic cross seen in the middle ages generally representing the Tree of Knowledge)

Legato having a weird long tongue, as well as having his back broken and being confined to a metal brace/coffin (The serpent's punishment for the involvement in tricking Eve to eat the apple is losing its legs, and being thereafter forever an enemy of mankind)

Knives ship where he brings all the saved plants being called "The Ark" (Noah building an ark (large boat) and housing a pair of every animal on it as God sends a flood over the earth, drowning all the sinners, only the people and animals on the ark being left alive)

Vash & Wolfwood arguing about the righteousness of taking a life, Wolfwood's death at the orphanage and Vash burying him (Job 6:26-27 "Do ye imagine to reprove words, and the speeches of one that is desperate, which are as wind? (Do you reprimand those that are desperate for their views and call their words meaningless?) Yea, ye overwhelm the fatherless, and ye dig a pit for your friend.")

The bottle of "The Bride" Wolfwood brings out before his death (Jesus referred to as a groom and the church/priests as his bride)

Vash promising Meryl that he will be back walking into what looks like a suicide mission (Jesus telling his followers that he will come back from death)

Meryl & Milly as reporters following Vash (The Prophets and their job of spreading the word of Jesus/the lord)

The appletree (the symbol of Eden)

Quotes that appears inspired by the bible:

Vash saying "we should never have been born" (Job, God's specialest little boy, curses his birth as misery befalls him, Job 3:1)

Elendira comparing humanity to maggots (Job 25:5-6 "The stars are not pure in his eyes, how much less a mortal, who is but a maggot? A human being, which is a worm!")

[malaierba]

Well since I'm slerpdeprived and thinking about "what's worse than two parents with issues? THREE parents with issues"

The interesting thing about the "Cain/Abel are Lucifer's child" theories is that genetically speaking it doesn't even matter. The children are made of Eve's egg and Lucifer's sperm. Eve was made from Adam's rib (assuming that the show will follow that canon?), she's made from him DNA, she's genetically his clone.

So Cain/Abel COULD be tested for the parenthood test thing and chances are they'll always match with Adam since they'll match with Eve.

So if it were to be used as a type of "gotcha, not my real dad" Adam probably wouldn't acknowledge it because not only did he raise them in life, the DNA test matches with him too.

Nevermind that he only knew his kids (who either died and went to hell, or were cursed to wander and lived for centuries, had nomad kids etc, THEN died and went to hell, assuming that that's where Cain is ofc) for like 0.05% of their existence.

Which btw, thinking about the weight and realistic importance of familial bonds forged in earth is very interesting in the context of the afterlife, especially when it comes to ancient souls. I would care who my mom/dad was in 50 years, 150 years, perhaps 500 years, but would I care in 1000 years? I suppose I would acknowledge them in title but after centuries of being an independent adult, wouldn't that change the perceived hierarchy in pretty much any relationship?

That was a tangent but it does go back to what I was originally saying:

Really it's in Cain and/or Abel's best interest that such a test is never taken. ALL it would accomplish is earn them another adult with baggage in their lives and who wants that when you're essentially as old as your human parents (give it take 5 to 20 years depending on how you think the whole Eden thing played out), as old as agriculture, older than civilization etc.

(that's of course grounds for conflict which could be interesting... You're one half of the oldest pair of tragic twins in the history of humanity, you've been a soul for longer than you were human, you kind of have other things going on... Why are your earthly parents still beefing with the devil? In true "I'm an adult and it's made me very judgemental of my parents' unaddressed immaturity", they should be like. Literally who cares. Dude I mean Dad (Adam) are you SURE you don't want to try therapy?)

Like really their only motivation may be to have a claim to the throne of hell or something but assuming that hell laws work as they do in human culture, Eve's kids would be "bastards" so they wouldn't be next in line.

If not political power, there's always the possibility of fucking up spectacularly with a series of bad deals and now they really need to have access to the Morningstar funds or be in the will or something, but hm idk. On the fence about this idea. I suppose it could be executed in an interesting way.

I'm so tired I feel like this post got away from me. No conclusion! Just more aimless rambling in the tags

[weirdestbooks]

The Meaning of Freedom (Wattpad | Ao3)

Philippines oneshot, requested by solosunset.

Philippines had been raised to hate the idea of tattoos. Sure, they were an important part of many of the cultures within his land, but old beliefs are hard to shake, especially when you are a colony trying to gain respect as a country. 

The tattoo the Japanese Empire forced on him only made it worse.

Philippines didn’t like thinking of that time, the pain, the humiliation, and the systematic destruction of himself and who he was, ready to be created into a glassy-eyed doll for the Japanese Empire to play with. Even when she…

If the puppet state wasn’t bad enough, that bitch Laurel put him under martial law, only furthering the destruction. He lost his body, then his mind. 

It was the kind of complete control he never wanted to feel again. 

Philippines had been healing from it, relearning his identity, especially as an independent country. He got Hawaiʻi to burn the tattoo off. He remade friends; he talked to replacements about coping with being a shadow of a person who once was. He was healing.

Then Marcos put him under martial law, and the hell started all over again.

At least Marcos was different. He wasn’t trying to destroy who Philippines was and rebuild a new person tailored to fit his own interests. He just wanted Philippines to be docile and agreeable. Supportive of his agenda. 

It sucked, but it was different. Philippines got to stay Philippines. It also helped that he still had access to his support system. Kentucky, Hawaiʻi, all of them were still there to help him through it. They helped make sure that he wasn’t too far gone, that he wouldn’t have to rebuild his personhood again after barely succeeding last time.

Philippines hoped he would get to keep his mind for a little longer than twenty-seven years this time. 

But having his mind restored and given back to him was still a cause for celebration. He got together with a few friends to drink, both country and human, but he felt he had to do something more personal as well.

Philippines wasn’t sure what to do, but his mind had wandered back to tattoos and the scar that marked all that was left of the one the Japanese Empire had given him.

Maybe he could get one to replace it.

The tattoo the Japanese Empire made him get read でくのぼう. Puppet. The figurative description, of course, the one that relates to a person or groups of people. That was what he was to her—a puppet.

As much as the Japanese Empire claimed to love him, something was deeply wrong with her. She claimed to love and care for him, claiming that she was better to him than New Spain, Spanish Empire, or America.

Sure, none of those people were great to him, but under them, he had his own mind. If he wanted to, he could yell at them, punch them, or even go to war with them. The Japanese Empire gave him none of those solutions. She enslaved his body and mind and took away his ability to speak, to fight, and to think.

He was her puppet. Nothing more than a mindless slave, a toy for her to play with.

Philippines wanted to get a new tattoo to replace that one, right on top of the scar or around it if putting on the scar wasn’t possible. He wanted a new one that reflected who he was at this moment.

Not a puppet or a slave or a mindless government drone.

A free man with his own mind and will.

There was a word that he thought fit that.

Kawas. 

There were lots of ways to translate it.

Deliverance from servitude or slavery; emancipation; liberation; freedom; release.

It fit. 

Philippines had his mind back. He had been emancipated. He had been liberated, due in no small part to his friends in America.

He had his freedom.

His country’s freedom and his own.

He had his mind back. He was free again. And if that ever got fucking taken from him again, he was going to make sure he had a physical marker that showed everyone he was a free man.

He was the Republic of the Philippines, and he would rather die before he was made anyone’s puppet ever again.

[caressofsharess]

* worship me : a depiction of the demigod ‘sharess’ from baldur’s gate 3 and forgotten realms lore, penned by nyx [ she / they, 30 ]. please only interact if you are 21+, as this blog will contain mature content. info beneath the cut is pulled from a wiki, but i will be adding my own lore and headcanons into the mix. this is a sideblog, all likes and follows will be coming from @infernalbarbarian.

about. sharess ( pronounced: SHAH-ress ) known in the Mulhorandi pantheon as Bast, was the Faerûnian goddess of festhalls, hedonism, and sensual fulfillment. Passionate and willful, The Dancing Lady had the independent and hedonistic temperament of a feline, and encouraged her followers to spread pleasure to all. Sharess was an innate flirt and loved toying around with beautiful mortals; once she had her fill, she swiftly moved on to other sources of pleasure.

As Bast, she opposed the evil Set along with the other good-aligned gods of that nation. She had a close relationship with Nobanion, who shared her interest in felines, though Sharess did as much to annoy him as she did to entice him. She also had a romantic relationship with Anhur, though their opinion of each other varied wildly from absolute love to indifference depending on how many fights they had. As Sharess, she was an ally of Selûne, Sune, Milil, Hanali Celanil, and Lliira, and she opposed both Loviatar and Shar, the latter of which never forgot that Sharess escaped from her clutches.

The Church of Sharess was of casual nature, and her clergy were responsible for the running of many festhalls found throughout large cities in Faerûn. These festhalls sought to indulge every pleasure imaginable. Privately owned festhalls usually employed at least one or two Sharessan clerics. These festhalls cater to all the senses and include fantastic feasts, heavenly baths and massages, and every other pleasure imaginable. Wealthy festhalls often employ one or two mid-level Sharessan, and some Sharessan wander the countryside with Sharess’s blessing seeking new pleasing sensations to add to their repertoire.

The Church of Sharess probably celebrated the most festivals out of all the faiths of Faerûn. These revels were known collectively as the Endless Revels of Life. Even daily events, such as the rising and setting of the sun, presented a chance for Sharessans to revel. Their most beloved festival was the Midsummer's Eve festival, where the pursuit of pleasure had no boundary.

Sharess didn't have any orders as such, but a group of werecats devoted to both her and Selûne, and calling themselves the Eyes of the Evening, hunted down Sharran cultists on nights of the full moon.

Sharess was originally known as Bast, a Mulhorandi power who was the patroness of cats, and Anhur's lieutenant. During the Second Mulhorandi Empire (beginning −1048 DR), she subsumed the portfolio of Felidae, a beast cult deity of felines, nomads, and sensual pleasure. Struck by wanderlust, Bast traveled across Faerûn leaving many cults in her wake. During these travels, she also subsumed the divinity of Zandilar the Dancer, a goddess of the Yuir elves, gaining that goddess' portfolio of intense passionate love.

After Myth Drannor fell, she began to experiment with the darker side of pleasure and fell under the sway of Shar, and became known as Sharess. During the Time of Troubles, Sune freed Sharess from Shar's influence, when the latter tried to assassinate Sharess, as she had Ibrandul due to her reluctance to be completely dominated by the goddess of shadow. Sune doused Sharess with a chalice filled with waters from Arvandor's Evergold that restored Sharess' beauty and willpower, giving her the will and the edge to rebel against her mistress.

After that, Sharess spent much of her time in Arvandor, frolicking and pursuing pleasure in all of its forms, despite the warnings of her deific allies and the offers made by Shar, and guarding herself from Loviatar.

dossier. current name. sharess. previous name. bast. title(s): the dancing lady, the festhall madam, the lustful mistress, feline of felicity, succubus of sensation, mother of cats, foe of set. power level. demigod. alignment. chaotic good. status. immortal. symbol. cats. appearance. normally, she appears as a beautiful, maturely aged human, mortal female, around mid to late forties. the hair changes from dark to light, whatever she’s really feeling in the moment, really. the only thing separating her from mortal humans is her golden cat eyes. in her true form, her body looks about the same, same full curves, stunning figure. but she has the head of a black cat, same golden eyes. she stands at 5’9”. personality. sharess adores being around mortals, for the most part. she enjoys experiencing all of the big emotions. she lives for their lust, their greed, their gluttony, their sin, their joy, their deepest pleasures. you can find her crashing big celebrations to bless it with her presence, spreading ecstasy and delight throughout. she’s quite charming, and easily excitable, a shameless flirt — she will flirt with anyone and anything.

baldur’s gate 3. so this part is still being fleshed out, but for plotting purposes, i figure sharess will be one of the characters you can have help you in your fight against the elder brain and she hangs around your camp like isobel and dame aylin.

headcanons. one. in a fight, claw bracers are her weapons of choice. she can manipulate peoples’ emotions and can lower multiple enemies armor class at once, and make concentrating on spells almost impossible. she’s good at weakening defenses. she can also teleport in short, fast bursts, and her dexterity score is unbelievably high. incredibly fast, nimble and flexible.

two. she greets all mortals she meets with a tender kiss on the lips or the forehead, not in a sexual manner, just because she loves mortals so much, she finds them to be adorable and fascinating and she wants to bless each and every once of them with her influence.

three. after centuries of enslavement by the lady of darkness, every ounce of her own once unbreakable will siphoned and replaced only by pain, a thing once curiously pleasurable quickly became her nightmare. her prison. no more pleasure, no more bliss, only darkness and agony. after her escape, shar sent armies of sharran cultists throughout faerûn to hunt her down, forcing the demigod to abandon the realms she adored so very much. she retaliated by growing her own army, her own cult— orders of werecats throughout faerûn would gather in packs, hunt and kill any sharran cultists on sight in sharress’ name during each and every full moon.

[cellythefloshie]

;; 12 Days of Kinkmas     Day 11 - Road Wife Holiday Special - New Years Eve

Summary: The organization throws a hell of a New Years party, but you struggle to find your place in a room full of coworkers, players and their wives - and a new years party is never complete without a new years kiss.  Notes: This oneshot is written as an independent piece and has no influence on the main plot of the Road Wife series. Featured Players: Anthony Cirelli, Mathieu Joseph, Alex Killorn (mentioned), Brayden Point, Ross Colton Kinks & TW: alcohol, excessive drinking, anxiety/depression type themes, loneliness, mentions of sex work and infidelity. Word Count: 3379

TAGLIST : @wingedwheelprxncess @mitchymainer @equallyshaw @starshine-hockey-girl  @beccaiscold @samanthasgone​

​

Unlike the holiday party, which was very much family-friendly, the Tampa Bay Lightning organization liked to go all out for New Year's Eve. They hadn’t just set up entertainment and an early dinner this time, no, they had rented a hall to ring in the new year. Complete with catering, an open bar and a semi-formal dress code you instantly felt out of place. You walked in through the doors without a date on your arm, your clutch bag held tight in your hand as the room consumed you. In an instant, you felt as if your dress was constricting around your chest - even though you had bought it specifically for the event, and the dress fit your body perfectly - and all you could do was tell yourself that the feeling would pass as you moved further into the grand room filled with strangers. 

Sure, you were more than acquainted with the players, but tonight they were accompanied by their wives. You would not be needed, nor would the wives want you around, and so you were left to the wolves. Also known as, your colleagues: the media team. The team was great, welcoming and always excited to have you tag along when they would go out to explore the cities the team was playing in during a long road trip - but you weren’t as close with them as you could be. Not when you had obligations to the team that they didn’t know about. 

As you approached the table the team greeted you with smiles, if they had any suspicions of the role you helped with the team they hid it well - hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if they all knew as the players weren’t often discrete on the plane ride from one city to the next. And you could vividly remember a time you were sure Gabby Shirley had caught you with your clothes dishevelled as you left an appointment at the back of the plane. She had only smiled at you then, and it was the same smile she was giving you now as you approached the table - but this time it was paired with a welcoming hug. 

“We were thinking you were going to bail on us!” Gabby spoke into your hair, her arms wrapped around you effortlessly, before s she pulled back and introduced you to her fiance. Then, her gaze wandered, her petite form looking around you as if someone has hidden behind you. “Where’s your date?”

You could feel your stomach sink at her words, your grip on your clutch sending your knuckles white as you forced a smile. Your words were more of a question than a statement once you found them, “I don’t have one?” 

Taking your lower lip into your mouth, chewing it slowly and smudging your lipstick, you let your gaze fall on the table of your peers and their partners. They each wore the same look, caught somewhere between awkwardness and pity as they didn’t quite know how to feel about your situation - not that you could blame them, in the moment neither did you. 

“No shame in that,” Gabby was quick to fill the silence as she found her seat at the table once more, “still so young, you have lots of time to find someone.”

As if you could taste her words, your tongue slid over the back of your teeth trying to rid your mouth of the sourness. It lingered as you tried to find just the right words to say, your gaze going astray to take in the sight of what all surrounded you, but instead of putting you at ease, it added to the reeling thoughts in your mind. Everywhere you looked you seemed to see one thing, and one thing only: one of the players and their wife or girlfriend. It stung, and not because you were jealous. No, you were never jealous of the relationship the players had with their wives. You respected it and were thankful that you had been a part of it. What you were was lonely. 

As long as your name was inked on the contract, and you held the title of Road Wife, you wouldn’t be able to maintain a real relationship with anyone. Not a player, and definitely not an outsider. You would never get to show up at a team event on somebody’s arm, and tonight you would ultimately be ringing in the new year alone. 

Forcing a smile, you settled into your seat and tried to ignore the empty seat beside you that was meant for your plus one that didn’t exist. It was then your eyes settled on your wine glass, and your smile became genuine if only for a moment for you knew that come diner service, your night was going to become much more enjoyable. 

By the time the plates of dinner and dessert were cleared, you were pleasantly buzzed. It was enough to have you content with people watching from your seat - that was until the DJ started his set. The music flooded the room and it was met with cheers, including those from your own lips. You loved dancing, and you had consumed just the right amount of wine to want to be out on the dance floor in a room full of coworkers. 

“That’s my queue,” you told your table as you drained the rest of your wine from your glass and placed it down on the tabletop beside your purse. 

Your words earned cheers of encouragement from the media team as you stood up from the table, and kicked off your heels so they sat toppled against each other beneath your chair. The walk to the dance floor was almost dreamy, maybe you were a little more than buzzed, eyes falling on you as you pushed between crowded tables. When you took to the floor there had only been a few couples to have taken to it, their dancing subtle, almost lazy - especially when it came to dancing next to you. You danced like there was nobody watching when most of the room undoubtedly had their eyes on you. You didn’t hold back - for tonight you didn’t have to. You had no obligations, and zero worries about being hungover on the flight to New York come morning. 

And apparently, neither had Tony. 

You sobered up the moment you spotted him through the crowds. He was slumped over in his seat at his assigned dining table, wearing that same dead look he had last worn back at the boat parade when he had let the alcohol get the best of him. The whole room seemed to go quiet around you as you became still, even if the party was still raging with life, and you left the dance floor behind you. Careful strides took you back to the tables and you didn’t stop until you had dropped to your knees in front of Tony. You spoke his name in a gentle voice, one that was joined by the gentle touch of your hand over his thigh. You watched as he looked down at you, his dark curls falling down into his face as he managed a smile at the sight of you. 

When he spoke your name, no matter how sweet he was trying to sound, there was no hiding how he slurred and how his breath stunk of alcohol. “Tony,” you sighed out, almost disappointed as you reached a hand out to stroke over the paled flesh of his cheek. He was so far gone, not even the pitcher of water on the table could save him. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would be ringing in the new year with his head in a toilet bowl and you were determined to be the one to take care of him. 

“We need to get you home, Tony,” you told him gently, and you watched his lips curl up at the idea of taking you home. 

“Killorn’s outside with the cab-” Mathieu speaks up from behind you, drawing your attention away from Tony for a moment. 

You offer him a thankful smile, you could always count on them to take care of each other. “Let me just grab my things and I-”

Mathieu said your name softly, offering you a hand to help you up from the floor, “you don’t have to do all this,” his words made your stomach knot and your lips parted to insist but he was quick to silence you with his own words, “you do so much for us already, and Tony’s not going to remember this night in the morning - but if he wakes up and sees that you had to spend the night taking care of him instead of being here celebrating with everyone,” Mathieu sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at his closest friend, “he wouldn’t want that for you. Not when you could be here having fun with everyone,” and then his voice dropped so that only you could hear, “looking that good shouldn’t be wasted on his bedroom tonight.”

“At least let me help take him out to the cab,” you spoke out, your words desperate as Mathieu leaned in to slide an arm under and around Tony to hoist him up from his seat. 

“You don’t have shoes on,” Mathieu told you firmly, offering you a sorry look, “he’s in good hands. I’ll take good care of him.”

Knees aching against the floor where you knelt, you watched Mathieu leads Tony off and through the party with his staggered steps the only thing holding them back. You remained there, watching them as they went until they had been lost in the crowd and had fallen out of your line of sight - and suddenly the party seemed all the more overwhelming now. 

Your focus had been drawn back to reality, the music no longer backgrounds noise for your mere moment with Tony. The dance floor was crowded now and was much more intimidating than it had been when you had walked onto it fueled by the confidence only wine could have given you. With the confidence having faded, there was only one logical thing to do: Get another drink. 

The lines around the many bars stations around the hall were winding as many of the guests in attendance had migrated from the dinner tables to mingle with coworkers, friends, and family over drinks. You blended right into them, the conversations and music around you a symphony in your ears. You didn’t listen to any one thing in particular, not the lyrics of the song, or the conversations behind had in front or behind you as you shuffled forward with each passing drink order. That was until you felt the touch of a warm hand against your back and the sweet breath of words against your cheek. 

“You look stunning, darling.”

You tensed slightly as you cast a glance to the right, taking in the sight of Brayden as he stood with his hand on your lower back as if it weren’t something out of the ordinary. His dress shirt was already loose around the collar, his jacket and tie were already lost, and his hair was already falling into the shaggy mess you were used to seeing. 

“Something tells me you just didn’t want to go to the back of the line,” you teased him, taking in a slow breath to try to put your body at ease. 

Brayden smirked, his bright eyes dropping to the floor as his hand slipped down a little lower on your back to stroke over the expanse just above your ass casually. When he let his gaze rise again, he leaned in close and let his voice drop down to a whisper, “can’t a man just want to enjoy a drink with his wife?”

Your cheeks grew so hot that you were sure you were blushing and your lips parted as if to chastise him for saying something like that surrounded by people - for touching you like that when someone could so clearly see but you were rendered speechless as you came to the bar. It felt as if you were tripping over your tongue as you leaned up against the pop-up bar and ordered another glass of wine. 

Your order left Brandon scoffing as he too pressed up against the bar. He leaned up against it with one arm, his hand resting over yours so causally it almost looked like an accident as he ordered two shots of Canadian whiskey and his favored drink to take back with him to his table - but Brayden wasn’t going to retreat until you had taken the shot with him. He held it out to you with a wide grin, his gaze narrowed yet playful. 

“I shouldn’t-” You started to protest, but then your eyes settled on the deep amber alcohol in the small, disposable, plastic cup. You knew better than to mix your alcohol, but if you already planned on being hungover come morning, there really was no harm in it. “Yeah, okay. Okay, give it here.”

Your fingertips seemed to tingle as they brushed against his to secure the cup in your hold. You took it between two fingers, raising it up to him in a silent toast before bringing it to your lips and knocking it back in a single motion. As you sipped it, and Brayden sipped at his own, you held one another's gaze. The whiskey burned down your throat, and his stare sent your entire body ablaze. The feeling struck you, right through to your core and it left you choking - or maybe that was the alcohol? It left you smiling all the same as you lowered the small cup and abandoned it on a nearby cocktail table. 

Brayden reached a handout, laughing as you coughed, and pat your upper arm with an endearing touch, “atta girl.”

His touch lingered as he retracted his hand, his coy smile wavering for a moment as he heard his wife calling out to him from a nearby table. “I was supposed to be getting her a drink,” he recalled, his head shaking as he realized that it had completely slipped his mind. 

“I won't keep you,” you assured, stepping back so that you stood just out of his reach - and you smiled a little wider trying to hide how your lips threatened to falter into a frown. It was the second time you had watched someone walk away from you all evening and it sent your mind into a spiral. You hadn’t meant to be a distraction, especially with his wife in attendance. It sent your stomach sinking and your palms grew sweaty against the glass of wine in your hand. Then your skin was crawling and your chest became heavy with guilt. You needed a refuge, but it wouldn’t be found with the players, their wives or your colleagues. No, you needed a moment alone. 

You found your solace outside where night blanketed the sky and the humid air had crisp and fresh on your face. The concrete was cool beneath your bare feet, but you paid no mind to it as you took slow, pacing steps up and down the length of the patio outside the venue. Time was lost as you enjoyed the patio, your eyes fixated on the city skyline beyond and how its lights glimmered brighter than the stars in the sky - but soon even they would be outshone as the time was winding closer and closer to midnight and fireworks would soon kiss the skies. 

Sipping your wine, you settled along the railing. The winds raised goosebumps over your flesh and sent chills down your spine. It had you contemplating going back inside for your coat, but you dismissed the idea. If you were going to enjoy one thing, it was going to be the fireworks even if you have to enjoy them alone-

Breaking your thoughts was the opening and closing of the patio doors behind you. At first, you didn’t look back, expecting a group to be coming out for some air or to prepare to watch the fireworks from the patio instead of through one of the many windows - but you only heard one pair of footsteps behind you. Curious, you cast a glance back, a curtain of hair falling over half of your face as it was caught in the wind, and your eyes settle on a familiar face. 

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?” Ross’ voice was as soft as the night sky as he abandoned the party behind him and approached you by the railing. 

Biting your lower lip, you look back out over the city skyline, your shoulders giving off a lazy shrug in response to his question. You wanted to be able to tell him, or anyone really, how you felt - but you knew that there were only two people that would understand what you were going through: the road wife in St Louis, and the former wife of Tampa Bay. So you forced a half smile and didn’t let your eyes meet his as you heard the countdown begin inside. The new year was upon you. 

“It seemed like a good place to watch the fireworks,” you told him, but he could hear the dejection in your voice and the sigh that followed. 

Stepping forward, Ross spoke your name just loud enough to pull your eyes from the city and the skies. It was then you noticed just how close he was, and how he continued to steal the space between you. His hand reached up, stroking away the hair that had fallen over your face before his warm, gentle tough settled over your cheek. He stroked it slowly with his thumb, over the angle of your cheek and down over the length of your chin before grazing over your lip that had begun to swell oh so slightly from the own bite of your own teeth. The pad of his thumb against your lip had them falling open in the slightest of gasps, your eyes wide and glassy as they met his crystal gaze. 

“Ross,” you muttered, his thumb falling to your chin as the countdown inside grew loud, and closer to one. 

With his free hand Ross quickly found your hip, the silken fabrics of your dress wrinkling beneath his touch as he took hold of you. He drew you in with the smallest of steps until your body was flush against his, and then the countdown stuck the new year and the final breath between you was stollen and filled with a kiss. Ross’ lips descended down on you in a kiss that was far from something sweet. He was always someone who had kissed you with intent. There was not a single ounce of shyness in how his lips moved against yours with such familiarity and passion. He didn’t draw back to join in with the cheers, and neither of you flinched back as the sky was filled with the fizzling color of the fireworks. Instead, his thumb was pressing against your chin, drawing your mouth open to invite the stroke of his tongue. You near groaned at the flavors of him, a sweet mix of citrus, vanilla and vodka flooding your taste buds before he drew back, leaving you breathless. 

You stood in front of him, lips parted as you found your breath, and you watched the colors of the fireworks as their light was cast over his face. He wore that same cocky smile you had given you the very first night you had met during his rookie season as he stripped off his blazer. Reaching out, he draped it over your shoulders to keep you from the night’s breeze. You couldn’t help but  admire him for a moment. With just a single action every feeling of doubt, and loneliness had faded. A small, thankful smile blossomed over your features because of him, and you welcomed the warm touch of his hand lacing with yours. You welcomed it’s hold, giving his hand a careful squeeze, and together the two of you stood and watched as the fireworks painted the night sky.

[hells-beloved-queen]

:Realm of Nightmares:

:: As a general disclaimer, everything written here are personal head canons and is in no way canon for the Hazbin Hotel / Hellauva Boss. ::

Pic1 cred

Pic2 cred

When it comes to controlling demons, there are two things that allow another to have over them. Reciting their full name during a summoning circle and a willingly signed contract.

A demon can offer temptation for power to form a contract, but they can never force it.

With that in mind, there was one who took this to heart. Lilith.

She was the legitimate First Woman created. Rejected by the First Man for being too independent. She wished to be seen as an equal, but Adam would have none of it and was promptly replaced by another woman, Eve. A woman far more docile and submissive than she was.

Though she was not allowed to speak with Eve, she saw the woman as a sister. She watched from the shadows as another was forced to deal with the arrogance of Adam. Lilith took pity on Eve.

Throughout history, Lilith watched as Sinners from Earth come to Hell. Listening to their stories for how people were being treated, how women were being treated. On top of that, she had to watch as her people were slaughtered by angels every year.

She hated it.

This wasn't fair!

She would encourage her people to rise against angels, not to fear them with her music. She wished to empower them so they wouldn't be fodder for Heaven.

But her voice wasn't enough to fight back.

She watched day in and out, and her husband, Lucifer, lingered on the past with the same project that was rejected by his peers. As much as she made attempts to persuade him to move on, he stubbornly refused.

There were better things he could be doing. Keeping contact with the Overlords and Seven Deadly Sins, connecting with his people, making the best out of the situation they were in - anything other than surrounding himself in a broken dream.

They could create a new dream together, but he didn't even seem remotely interested.

She knew his views of the Sinners in Hell. He viewed them as the scapegoat for his fall. He just accepted his punishment for being banished from Heaven with his fall; accepting that he was to be surrounded by the corruption of free will.

Lilith even suggested fighting back, but she would see him slump back and immediately give up. She desperately wanted to be there for him, but nothing she said would get past his depressive thoughts of what he's lost during his fall.

It seemed that nothing she did would change things. She was fed up and beyond annoyed. She went from having a control freak, disrespectful partner to being with a fallen angel that refused to do anything but live in the past and a coward.

So, in secret, she moved on to experiment with what she could do. If the King of Hell wasn't going to be progressive with their people, then she would do what he could not.

Give Hell hope.

It was when she was meditating while humming softly to herself. As she did, her bottled up emotions at the time and her singing were just enough for her to create a pocket realm.

She wanted a place to express her dream for her people. However, being damned, she created a plane that was filled with darkness and nightmares. The creatures that dwell there were far worse that those found in Hell. They thrived in Shadows and what's more, they only answered to her.

A single touch on a surface and her insignia of her eyes were blessed on this plane. As she wandered about, she realized that there was something familiar about this place.

It reminded her of Eden. Wait - it was Eden! At least, it's counterpart. Were all these shadows counterparts of those that used to thrive in paradise? It certainly seemed that would be something God would do. Toss anyone who didn't meet their idea of perfection and toss it to an unattended corner in the dark.

Much like the demons and sinners, she would take these poor souls under her wing. She would ensure that they were not alone.

She would use this realm as a safe place for whatever she needed. To get some much needed air from the down beat air in the castle or the constant massacre of her people.

Or a private place to make a deal, should she need it.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

           Alice McMichael, a 26 year old daughter of Odin.            She is a museum guide at Phoenix Library and Museum.

FC NAME/GROUP: Roseanne Park - Rose / Blackpink CHARACTER NAME: Alice Stella McMichael AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 11 February, 1997 PLACE OF BIRTH: Auckland, New Zealand OCCUPATION: museum guide at the Phoenix Library and Museum HEIGHT: 168 cm DEFINING FEATURES:

slender limbs, shoulder broader than her hips; thick, healthy-looking hair; a mole on the right under her lower lip, and very expressive eyes

PERSONALITY: Alice is self-aware and self-conscious. She knows well what she can do, yet at the same time over-analyses and over-thinks about what she cannot. However, instead of dwelling on her negative feelings, she tends to focus on dealing with the problem, although it may take some time until she strikes. As a daughter of Odin, her strategic way of taking action is paired with the ability to weigh up the situation, size up people, and optimize her plans. She does not hesitate to stand up for herself and the underdogs, although she often opts for nonviolent (but not necessarily less unrelenting) solutions when conflict arises.

Her friendliness and candidness are always ready to be shown, but so is her fierce independence and determination to get what she wants how she wants it. Despite her quick and sincere emotional response to everything in life, Alice has a hard time letting people in, yet she’s got a knack for helping others feel accepted and cared for when being around her. Her loyalty and protectiveness are saved for a few who are on the same wavelength or equally loyal, and she will express high respect for individuals who are fearless in being themselves.

She loves beautiful things and beautiful people, and while she can be a hopeless romantic, she rarely gets herself attached, which can make her appear cold and disengaged at times. While often being seen as a sociable, agreeable person, Alice may get snappy and judgemental, especially when she feels restless, constrained, or is simply in desperate need of more me-time.  

HISTORY:

Trigger warning: mention of kidnapping, child trafficking, child abuse, sexual assault, homicide

– Prologue –

The peaceful life of Minah Lee ended at the tender age of three, on a fateful trip with her mother to Albania.

While they were at a night market, Minah wandered away from her mother, blending in the crowd. Before she realized she was lost, a strange woman approached, saying that she would take her back to her mother. That never happened, instead, she was anesthetized, then taken on a truck that carried her straight to England.  

– Chapter I –

The young girl’s first core memory involved picking up a coin from the dirty pavement, then putting it into the tattered hat that had been there since she could remember. Meals were sporadic, almost the same every day, as bland and cold as the English nights could be.

No day was a normal day on the street and in the hands of a scary woman all the kids in her ‘family’ called Mama. In the morning, she told each kid what to do and how to do it, and if they did not finish their daily task, it always meant no food for ‘the lazy’. The name Minah was no more, and Eve was how she was called, but ‘Hey’ and ‘You’ remained much more familiar than that makeshift name until Mama decided her time on the street was over.

At the age of seven, she was introduced to a wealthy family in the uptown area as a cousin of their current maid. At first, she was instructed to help the maid run errands, mostly by picking up ordered groceries from the stores. A few weeks after, she was asked to be a kitchen hand, then a month later, she was finally entrusted with the task of doing laundry and cleaning up the rooms. It was a spoken rule that without being requested, she was not allowed to show herself up anywhere in the family’s manor, except her corner in the attic or in the kitchen. In return, she was allowed two proper meals a day and stay in the family’s attic five days a week, making weekends spent at Mama’s run-down house slightly more bearable.  

Thanks to the framed family picture, she learned that Mister and Mistress had a son around her age, who only stayed with them over weekends when he was back from boarding school. In his room, old textbooks and notebooks from previous school years were neatly placed on a wooden shelf, which she dusted off and cleaned up every day. It was from those textbooks, with a bit of help from the family’s maid, that she learned the alphabet, spelling, and numeracy among other things.

Within three months, she was able to read the children’s classics in the family’s home library and do basic maths. At night, quietly, she recited everything she had read during the day, often with little to no mistakes. When she received her very first allowance, she spent all of it on a thick notebook and a box of pencils. Since then, besides reciting, she started to write what she remembered from those children’s books, and soon began to give those stories alternative endings, much to her secretive delight.  

Her interest in books did not escape the Mistress’ attention, and so besides her own attic corner and the kitchen, Eve was allowed to spend time in the home library, as long as she remembered to do her daily tasks and leave the room immediately if anyone else except the maid or the Mistress entered. However, by the time she could finish reading all the books on the shelves, her little world once again shook.

On a crispy morning in June, the nine-year-old was stopped from cleaning the kitchen floor by a young woman dressing nicely. The woman introduced herself as Sarah, and Sarah proceeded to ask her some questions to which, based on Sarah’s facial expression, she did not believe she gave satisfying answers.

What is your full name? I’m Eve, just Eve. Where are you from, Eve? England. Yes, but where in England, can you tell me please? I’m…not sure, ma’am. Is your family here with you? Yes, I’m living with Mama. Mama, your mother, right? Can you tell me what her name is? I…I don’t know, everyone just calls her Mama.

On the same day, Sarah took her to an orphanage, not forgetting to assure her everything would be fine. Eve knew that while the woman meant all well, not everything would be fine, at least for Mama and whoever was involved with her.

She could not finish all the books in the family’s library, yet she knew that the Master was a public personage who had a deep interest in law, and that some latest documents he left on the desk revolved around child trafficking. Even though she could not understand everything written, it was enough to dawn on her that she could be a victim, that she was kidnapped from her biological parents and was trafficked to England from somewhere else in Europe. That she did not know who she used to be, and perhaps she would never know.

Ten months and some days of an alleged orphan’s life later, she was adopted by Mr. and Mrs. McMichael, a renowned couple in the business world who had been struggling to have a child of their own. It was an easy decision for the McMichael after their first talk with Eve at the orphanage, as they had already learned about the poor girl’s background and her exceptionally bright mind from her ex-Master.

On a blooming morning in April, Eve was dead, and Alice Stella McMichael was born.

– Chapter 2 –

Attending a prestigious private school in London, Alice was in her element. She rarely had difficulties in her studies, and she took the mild decrease in eyesight as an inevitable side effect of spending too much time reading.

While she could fit quite well into the nerd stereotype, Alice was by no means a weakling. Since day one, she refused to be an easy target of the devious youths in school, using her mind and years of a low-class life to either snuff out the fire or keep herself out of the minefield. She was known as a smart cookie with a fierce temperament, a social butterfly until one crossed the line. An inner joke has passed among her friend circle that Alice was actually the sassy Mary Sue, for somehow she always had the best comebacks known to man, and rarely, if ever, came second in any sort of competitions she chose to take part in.

While many had the impression that Alice was untouchable, it was, sadly, not the truth. On the late night of her 17th birthday party, she lost the fight against her well-respected foster father, who left a stain she had to spend hours under the showerhead to scrub off. And right in that fogged shower stall, Alice schemed the retaliation that the monster was well deserved.  

Just a few years after adopting Alice, James McMichael was diagnosed with diabetes type 2. Since then, he had to follow a strict diet and take prescribed insulin. It started with her secretly replacing the artificial sweetener used for his meals with powdered sugar. When no one was around to see, she took the insulin bottles in his insulated carry bag, then injected some pure water into them, all done with gloves on. For an extra step, she took the unopened bottles from the fridge, placed them under direct sunlight until they got warm, then put them back in their places.

The news of James McMichael passing away on his business trip from an insulin overdose came to all but one’s shock. Carmen McMichael stepped up to handle the part of business her husband left behind, which she hoped would soon enough be in Alice’s charge. However, shortly after James’ funeral, Alice got admitted to Cambridge University, with a full scholarship, to become a Modern and Medieval languages major, specializing in French and Spanish. She also took a one-year modern Greek course and an introductory course in Italian offered by the university.

As part of the curriculum, Alice spent her third year, called the Year Abroad, in France and Mexico. After three months of teaching English as a British Council assistant in Mexico, she moved to Paris for an internship with an international fashion house. There, her model potential was discovered by a well-known designer. He suggested her pose for his latest collection, which she was hesitant about at first. Yet, public reaction was unexpectedly positive, and her name started to gain attention.

– Chapter 3 –

By the time she graduated from college, Alice had already been rising to stardom.

Besides signing model contracts with several prestigious fashion and cosmetics brands, she also showed up as a guest on famous TV shows. After graduation, she embarked on learning acting, starting off with playing cameos in some sitcoms and drama series. With her charm, skills, and ability to learn quickly, she convinced the audience and drew the attention of Hollywood directors. Her first supporting role in a blockbuster earned her the prestigious prize of Best new actress of the Year.

Fame is married to Trouble, and so her trouble started to flood in. It began with a beautiful romantic story between her and a famous actor. Fans adored them, and when their engagement was announced six months later, everyone was only expecting the best for the sweet couple.

However, after being spotted having their time together on Jeju Island, the couple disappeared.

No one knew exactly what happened, even Alice, who found herself on the bridge leading to a mysterious island called Mount Phoenix. She felt cold, weak, alone in a summer dress she did not recognize and, not until a couple of hours later, knowing that she was one year away from the last piece of memory retained in her mind. In the palm of her hand, there was a piece of paper folded neatly saying ‘Do not come back’.

With no other belongings, she crossed the bridge to step foot on the island, where she was greeted by strangers who called themselves by the name of gods. The only explanation they could give for why she was able to be there was because she, herself, was a half-goddess. Daughter of Odin, to be exact.

The questions they asked left Alice flabbergasted, for she soon realized she got no answers for any but her own name. There were some faces and maybe some names, of someone or somewhere she could not tell. The more she tried to puzzle out the fragments and shatters of memory, the more it hurt. In the depth of her confused mind, voices talked, telling their stories in their own languages, sounds intertwining and words mingling too well the cacophony brought absolutely no message to life.

After two weeks in the hospital, the voices in her mind started to calm down, leaving each other space to speak. Her mind still hurt, but at least, she got glimpses of camera flashes, gowns, kitchen, and books. The crumbled note and its ‘Do not come back’ remained glaring at her from across the room. A lot must have happened, Alice believed, though it was the single piece of paper that questioned whether she really wanted to solve this unholy puzzle.  

For the time being, she settled down in an apartment generously given to her for being yet another abandoned child of a god. The times visiting the Phoenix Library and Museum were enough for her to realize that she could understand more than one language and that her broken brain turned out not to be so broken. It still got the capacity for her to become a museum guide, and so she guided curious eyes through the shelves of books and relics, wondering when she would be seen, when all secrets would be unearthed, and when she would be home.

PANTHEON: Norse CHILD OF: Odin POWERS:

Fighting instinct: She has an aptitude for fighting in close, physical combat, yet this ability is undiscovered due to her preference for non-violent means.

Tactical analysis: She is an innately skillful strategist who is able to create plans and strategies several steps ahead of the opponents. She can anticipate the opponents’ possible next moves, know the best actions to take, and the best timing to carry out her plan. Consequently, this helps her excel in strategic games, including chess.

Enhanced mind: She’s capable of learning, systemizing, and applying the knowledge she’s exposed to rapidly without going through intense training or practice. She can comprehend and explain complex, abstract concepts effectively, and also do faster and more accurate mental arithmetic than an average person. She also rarely experiences mental overload or mental fatigue. However, this ability is affected after the incident, as she tends to have a headache whenever she attempts to use her mental capacity for more than a couple of hours.  

STRENGTHS:

She’s quick to obtain a comprehensive understanding of abstract concepts, also able of learning and teaching almost anything once she puts her mind to it.

She is open-minded and receptive to new ideas and people from all walks of life.

Her ability to empathize with others, together with her willingness to help, makes her a caring and reliable friend.

Despite her seemingly shy demeanor, she will not hesitate to defend herself and those she cares about in a determined, if not unrelenting manner.

She is naturally good at strategic games and sports, including chess and e-sports.  

WEAKNESSES:

After the mysterious incident that causes her memory loss, she tends to get migraine or headaches, mostly when she uses her brain power for too long, but it can also happen out of the blue.

She may often be caught spacing out mid-conversation or when suddenly loses interest in whatever she is doing.

Despite her friendliness, more often than not, she gets cautious of others’ motives, making her seem distant and slow to truly open up.

She’s quite sensitive to weather, and it’s easy for her to catch a cold or minor allergy during season changes.

[thelouvrefm]

— 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 . . .

( muse f / 25 / cis woman / she/her/hers ) — did you see KELLY ACOSTA wandering around the island today? they kind of look like ANYA TAYLOR-JOY from certain angles? i heard around town that the TENNIS INSTRUCTOR is BRILLIANT, and INQUISITIVE, but also BLUNT, and PECULIAR. people say that they remind them of PURPLE WINE STAINS ON HER LIPS, A RECORD SCRATCH FOLLOWED BY “YOU’RE PROBABLY WONDERING HOW I GOT HERE”, and A LAYER OF PET HAIR COVERING HER CLUTTERED SEASIDE HOME, and RIBS by LORDE is definitely their theme song. they seem like a nice enough person, but we all know how hard it is to keep a pristine reputation in a small town. ( lauryn / 22 / cst / she/her/hers )

b a c k g r o u n d —

[ ! ] TRIGGER WARNING : MINOR CHILD NEGLECT, FAMILIAL DEATH (GRANDMOTHER), SUBSTANCE ABUSE

 001. a kings haven native born into a rather large family in 1997. has two older sisters and more cousins than she could name. kelly was a highly inquisitive child who was very much in her own head for as far back as anyone can remember. she was bright, thoughtful, and often left to her own devices as her family was not incredibly nurturing.

 002. both her parents and her sisters were all much like she was in the way that they were content doing their own thing. there was a strong emphasis on individuality in their family that led each of the sisters down different paths. though the family would convene at appropriate times, it was a rather bizarre way to grow up. there were no family game nights or sit down dinners at the table. the sisters didn’t often seek each other out unless they needed something from each other. the only real time the family would spend together was out on the water. they all loved to boat and would often be seen out on their boat whenever the weather was nice.

 003. this way of growing up led kelly to be independent from a young age. her parents would aid in her learning and care, but they would encourage her to find her own likes and dislikes, hobbies and extracurriculars, rather than suggest them at random to her. there was a peculiar awareness that kelly possessed from a young age that led her to be comfortable with her own presence. she would judge her parents’ behaviors and mannerisms, and deduced that they were simply eccentric people who loved each other deeply and were devoted to an atypical parenting style. so, kelly left them to it and learned to entertain herself.

 004. in her youth, kelly cycled through hobbies and activities. she had a natural talent for anything involving intellect or strategy. physical activities, however, challenged her. she had always been a petite girl with little coordination and athleticism; because of this, she had to work hard to become good at things like sports. both intellectual and physical hobbies had their benefits, and kelly began collecting interests. sometimes, she would dive entirely into something and master it quickly, then leave it behind forever. other times, like with chess and tennis, kelly would keep them around on the front lines for when her other fleeting hobbies bored her.

 005. kelly was viewed by others as strange in her adolescence. she was quiet around most people, and a bit standoffish. she had a strong presence and possessed no worries when interacting with others, though they were usually skeptical of her mannerisms. kelly was always the first in the class to hand in her test and never got in any trouble. she would only speak when she wanted to know something or felt definitively that something was worth saying. kelly did have a couple close friends, but she was more worried about her own little world than the one around her.

 006. as time went on, kelly matured in her thinking and awareness; she grew to understand her desires more. despite having an abnormal upbringing and personality, kelly grew to be fairly average as teenage girls go. she was intellectually gifted, yes, but she had crushes and uncertainties and even the occasional tantrum. 

 007. she integrated into society with a sureness in herself that came from self exploration at an early age, but she felt as though she still had much to learn. kelly sought a stability that her home life didn’t provide, and attempted to bring about this security on her own. perhaps a routine? the big issue here is that kelly’s nature was to bounce around from thing to thing. she loved to try and discover new things. she was a wild card who always had something going on. 

 008. when it came time to figure out what she wanted to do with her life, this became a big issue. she had a perfect gpa and plenty of extracurriculars on her record. recommendations were certainly no issue as every adult loved kelly’s quiet, insightful nature. her performance on the school’s tennis team was scholarship worthy. any college would be lucky to have her! if only any of her many hyperfixations had stuck.

 009. in an attempt to avoid her indecision, kelly decided she would take a gap year after she graduated from high school. when her grandmother got sick, kelly devoted her time to taking care of her. she moved in with her and learned a lot in the year it took before her grandma passed. grandma acosta was a strong woman with endless insight. since kelly had to spend large amounts of time with her on account of tending to her needs, she grew very comfortable with her. kelly’s guard was let down around her. to this day, kelly credits her grandma with shaping much of who she is an adult, all in the span of that one year. her grandma also led to her to dig into her father’s side of the family’s argentine roots. in their downtime, kelly’s grandmother would teach her spanish and hand over secret family recipes.

 010. to her surprise, grandma had left kelly with a moderate inheritance and that quaint little beach house that they had resided in together. kelly left much of the house the same, though she did soon begin filling it with animals. this house would act as the setting to much of her growing up.

 011. kelly really grew into herself around the age of 21. she became more bold and sociable. kelly had always been fearless, but she had a new confidence that attracted others. that gap year eventually turned into avoiding college as a whole, though she did consistently keep a job as an in-home dog trainer from ages 19-22. she had no certifications, but she produced great results and offered more modest pricing than those who had proper certifications. at the age of 22, kelly ended up taking a job as a tennis instructor and has stuck with this for three years now. she was able to invest her inheritance in a way that freed her up quite a lot for her hobbies.

 012. while working as a tennis instructor, kelly has collected a few comptia certifications (a+, network+, security+) and took to learning different coding languages, as well. she has an interest in cyber security and has tried her hand at hacking. she has grown to view this as a career she could be happy with if she ever finds herself needing more consistent work. as of now, she isn’t ready to commit to a full time job.

 013. kelly’s rebellious streak came a little late in life. curious about their effects, kelly cycled through various drugs and would often document her experiences through journals or painting. drug use is one habit that kelly has yet to break, though she doesn’t flit from the habitual use of one drug to the next anymore. she’s a bit more predictable now, sticking to nicotine, alcohol, anti-anxiety medication, and marijuana. occasionally, she will branch out if she’s at the club or in the presence of her rowdier friends. she is aware of her substance abuse issues but her know-it-all nature leads her to believe she knows how to “do it right” in order to avoid seriously harming herself. some nights, though, she takes it a little too far when she’s sick of her analytical thinking and feeling in control.

 014. meet kelly now… she’s a certified train wreck who wakes up on the loveseat most days half-dressed. she is slowly becoming dissatisfied with her life as she is running out of things to fill her time with, and new experiences just aren’t as exciting now that her brain is more developed and her emotions are a bit more stable. adulthood isn’t exactly becoming of her; she finds no comfort in the semblance of stability (the thing that she once desired the most) that she has built for herself. she hides her substance abuse and mental turmoil well. she would never let someone see a thing that she didn’t want them to see (except when she’s intoxicated… she’s a lot more human when she’s off her face).

[ ! ] TLDR : super gifted mensa IQ kid who had an typical childhood. she has a billion hobbies but her fickle nature led to her not knowing what she wanted to do with her life. so, she did drugs instead and is now wondering what happened to her adolescence. not a good adult but a very good time! she has many interests and is fairly sociable, so she’s an easy person to get along with

p e r s o n a l i t y —

 001. kelly is curious and analytical, to a fault. it’s consuming and second nature to her at this point. as a result, she loves to try new things and will go out of her way to do so. she is incredibly capable, but also an irresponsible train wreck. kelly is both stubborn and open-minded. she is somewhat of a know-it-all, but if you present her with proof of something, her mind will change without much challenge. despite a slight unreadiness to show it, kelly is incredibly empathetic. she credits her empathetic nature to her intelligence; she is able to infer based on mannerisms how others feel and relate that back to her own experiences with such feelings. her awareness of herself and others is high, much to her own detriment.

 002. many people think kelly is strange; she certainly can come off the wrong way and her lack of a filter can be off-putting. she simply isn’t afraid whatsoever to speak her mind and often won’t censor herself around people. if she wants to say something, she will. kelly is definitely a mastermind type, able to manipulate situations if she pleases and able to analyze many solutions to a problem. there is certainly no lack of motivation and energy with her. kelly was quiet as a child and can still be quite soft spoken. however, she has a strong presence and speaks with that strength, only speaking when there is something definitively worth saying.

 003. kelly is secretly a hopeless romantic. she has never had anything more than a fling with a tourist, and has watched as those around her fell in love. she wants to have a youthful whirlwind romance and subconsciously assigns meaning and connection to pretty much every interaction of hers but she’d never let you know that. she can come off as flirty, but that’s mostly from her bold and straightforward nature. kelly can be a lot to be around, but not necessarily in an unpleasant way (depending on who you are). she is a very hardworking person who will practice and practice something if she isn’t naturally good at it.

about. statistics. headcanons. connections.

[fearsmagazine]

DOWN BELOW - Review

DISTRIBUTOR: Gravitas Ventures

SYNOPSIS: On the 20th anniversary of a horrific Christmas Eve massacre at St. Agnes Church, a malevolent preacher from the past reappears to haunt the residents of the same town. Among them is Salem, a young man whose once-joyful life is unraveling as he's falsely accused of a heinous crime. Only a disillusioned call-girl named Alexis Knapp, plagued by her own nightmares, believes in Salem's innocence. Together and individually, they must confront their inner demons and a tangible one known as Mr. Monday.

REVIEW: In Filmmaker Spyder Dobrofsky's "DOWN BELOW," the protagonist, Salem, embarks on a peculiar and intricate journey to reclaim his life, which has been shrouded in an enigmatic reality for nearly two decades. His quest to unravel the impact of the enigmatic Mr. Monday on his life unfolds as a perplexing tale, often feeling unnecessarily convoluted.

The film's 99-minute duration felt pointless, given its anticlimactic conclusion. The characters appeared to wander aimlessly without a clear sense of purpose. The confusing plot twists and turns seemed intentionally disorienting, perhaps aiming to establish a surreal universe similar to David Lynch's films, but falling short of that mark. To be candid, I found the movie to be much ado about nothing, leading to frequent boredom. The simplistic revelation at the end left me feeling aggravated, having wasted my time.

The film's peculiar narrative gives rise to some overtly puzzling performances. The talented cast portrays characters that seem lifted from various stories and dropped into this oblique tale. Doug Jones appears without prosthetic makeup, offering a refreshing change. Eric Roberts delivers a compelling performance, though his character's purpose remains unclear. Bai Ling tones down her recent film performances, focusing on her acting chops. David Steen, a Tarantino veteran, creates the villain and catalyst for Salem's troubles, Mr. Monday. While Steen's performance is solid, the character lacks depth and remains superficial, depriving the viewer of any tangible understanding or insight into the villain.

The film's cinematography and framing are a blend of functional and uninspired aesthetics. The overuse of smoke diffusion in lighting feels arbitrary, although the filmmaker's intent is understandable. Ambrose Soehn's score often overwhelms the dialogue, featuring clichéd movements and moments that feel like music for music’s sake.

In DOWN BELOW, the filmmaker's ambition to add complexity to an essentially simple story seems forced and unnecessary. While the film's production design elements hint at a horror genre classification, it fails to fully embrace this potential. The result is a plodding, slow-paced movie featuring recognizable actors in bizarre roles. This film resembles the type of independent horror movie that would have been submitted to festivals in the late 1990s or early 2000s.

CAST: Eric Roberts, Doug Jones, Alexis Knapp, Bai Ling, Hutch Dano, Diane Robin, Greg Kriek, Erin Matthews, David Steen, Christopher Livingston, Brittany Carel, Luke Mullen, Anna Greene, William Ford, David Steen, and Spyder Dobrofsky. CREW: Director/Screenplay/Cinematography - Spyder Dobrofsky; Producers - Dash Dobrofsky; Score - Ambrose Soehn; Editor - Joshua Ling Hei Wong; Costume Designer - Izzy Fran; Visual Effects Services - High Stake Entertainment OFFICIAL: N.A. FACEBOOK: N.A. TWITTER: N.A. TRAILER: https://youtu.be/FQZmyS7IUa8?si=X_yLc-bydC-kbPaY RELEASE DATE: On digital & VOD Oct. 1st, 2024.

**Until we can all head back into the theaters our “COVID Reel Value” will be similar to how you rate a film on digital platforms - 👍 (Like), 👌 (It’s just okay), or 👎 (Dislike)

Reviewed by Joseph B Mauceri

[the2ndshaitan]

I wish Freedom, Equality and Equity for all women!

I want all women from east to train and become independed. Independent as meny of those past women was. Not by the story clamed by one man. By the way. Before eve. Lilith was Adams first wife. And a angel. God forced them to marry each other only that he wanted force Lilith to submit to Adam. Lilith wanted to approach god by asking if they couldn't just become equal. But god denying it and wanted her to stripp her power to a Newbie or Rocky who doesn't know what responsibility meny at all. Or what equality ment. He has a mind like a unknown person.

Anyway. Lilith just left the place and refuse to had it. She declined the Idea. And god came up the Idea to create eve as a cluless person too. Both Adam and Eve didn't know nothing. And more of that later. However. Meanwile, Lilith did however live here day of out from heaven. She relise it was tuff to follow a god who had the most bizzar idea who could end up to harm one and another. Nor could that god care about equality. But you wander. Which one am I refer. Allright. Even smaller details exist in Qur'an. But here is the problem the scalers and Muhammed know only about Adam and Eve. But doesn't know the origin of Adam and Lilith. Allso they have nothing about Lilith. Same with Christianity. They don't know anything about Lilith. She was just a independent angel who just wanted live here life. She could had accept the life of god accepted her wish to. But he declined to and wanted everything go to Adam. The cluless human. And again. I don't think Allah would deside it at all. However yahweh. The yealousbgod is the one who does those thing. And sens I know Muhammed using Allah for his own interest and no one else. Of course it will be harder for anyone to know what happening or what god saying. However. Muhammed know nothing about Lilith. Nothing. Regardless if Lilith is an angel or demon. She was chill. And never härmed the earth. Never. She just found a place there any entity could be and join each other from the most hard scary place to be. Heaven was to strict. Just like in a royal palace. Why on earth most angels, demons, Titans or other entities suffer by ruthless rulers humans doesn't know about. Perhaps to say. Not all gods was alike. Every god can choose for them self. There is plenty of other gods who are kind thow. Anyway. I hope all women keep fighting for freedom. And independence. Do it. Don't wait for a man to force you to marry him. It should come with your choice. Allso make shour you bild musclewile you are still young. Dont be afraid to be big. You can still be beautifully regardless how you look. But having musclepower is the best anyone can have. And for all of you who living in a horrible condition because of dictatorship or do to cue by terrorist. Please hang on. I hope you will be free one day. I haven't forgot you.

[zealctry]

@helllords

the priest’s name, as he repeats it, slides across his tongue like a cold, smooth, polished pebble. dark and round, ready to slide down into the depths of his throat and choke him. Adam. ( it’s a thread of irony that, once pulled taut, reverberates through him. pulls his whole mouth into a grin, expression suddenly alight with glee. ) it only follows that he’d introduce himself as Eve; because he thinks himself fucking funny. because the pursuit of knowledge, even as a forbidden fruit, is always more tantalizing than the shackles of heaven. ( he thinks of this again even as his feet carry him ( almost carelessly ) over the threshold of the church. )

even as he steps inside, his gaze refocusing in the semi-dark ( to that frantic struggle of light and shadow, the flickering of the candles akin to a scream), his hand raises automatically, reaching towards his own forehead, and he has to force it down when he becomes cognizant of his own automatism. a scowl etches itself deep between his brows, and he turns to shake the rain off his jacket instead, eyes downcast. he loathes it. it’s been years. and yet, the impulse remains andthe sign of the cross lingers in the shadows of his footsteps. it’s a strange, hateful impulse ( so fucking familiar that it felt natural ), branded into his flesh not with hot iron but the iron will of ( generations and their fucking trauma ) his parents.  well fuck them! he'll ever be like his father, spilling his lifeblood at the feet of a callous corporation, he’ll never be like his mother, caged and frozen in a perpetual scream that froze in her throat and gagged her, leaving her suffocating between four white walls with no one else around.

( he refuses. )

           “ huh? yeah, sure. . .. ”  his reply is absent-minded, lost in the maze of his thoughts. is it being in such a place again, after so long, that makes the hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end? or is it —could it ever be— something else entirely?

wandering footsteps carry him around in the semi-dark to bear witness to the holy place; to strangle him with familiarity. even absentmindedly, he finds it strange to see so few candles alight. in his oldest of memories, before he had acquired a modicum of independence to think for himself, there always were. hundreds, everywhere, constantly burning. he's almost tempted to light one himself, here and now. not in prayer (he has no wish to bestow one upon any deity, he has no wish to bend the knee) and not for a departed soul. not even for the nostalgia of his childhood. he simply wants to watch the dancing flame burn. ( he wants to watch the whole world burn. the depth of his anger, lately, has been hard to grasp, hard to seize and see for what it was. how far can he tumble headlong into it before it consumes him to the marrow? why is he so angry, all the fucking time? if he asked himself that, if he lingered on the question long enough to genuinely seek for answers…. would they come? and would he even accept the outcome? )

he doesn’t have any money to leave as payment; it’s not enough to stop him. ( he never believed that the church should run on fiscal weights, anyway. back in the day, you could purchase relief from your sins with a generous donation ; guess money speaks wherever, huh? . . . isn’t that just greed? ). what does make him falteris the spoken, deceptively seductive Latin resonating in the crushing, vast emptiness of the sudden dark.

( Hidan could have been a choirboy. he never was  —against his mother’s wishes—  but he could have been. thus, the notes are like a shiv through his ribs, pulling him taut from stem to stern, making him pivot on his heel just in time to see the blade plunge into flesh. )

blood pours forth. and pours. and pours. soaks through fabric, leaving it stained dark.

Hidan stares, transfixed. fixed in a frame split apart from time. exists without feeling, torn apart from reality, as if were a rug that was suddenly yanked from underneath him. instead of freefall, he’s left to float, endlessly ( whatever thoughts he might have had come and go without gaining a foothold ).

smoke morphing into an all-encompassing darkness that appears to devour even the surrounding shadows snaps him to reality. like an icebath suddenly dumped on him (move.) , it rattles his bones (move.), travels down his spine in the most unpleasant of ways (move.). burns every nerve-ending, (move!)

he moves, and with surprising sangfroid at that. slinks back into the deeper dark until his heels hit brick, and blindly ( for he cannot tear his gaze away from The Sight ), he begins to slither away from the centerpoint of the building towards its rear. towards the door. towards the exit and, therefore sanity ( he never once stops to grapple with that concept – whether his mind is conjuring hallucinations for its own entertainment, whether it is real; whether he should do something. animal instinct, animalistic wisdom, in the face of something greater than itself. MOVE. )

Tension is a phantom's hand holding him within its grasp and increasing the pressure around him with every second that passes, with every breath he wastes on keeping up this farce ( a finger on his throat, another on his ribcage, squeezing to its delight until he has to calm every exhale just to assure the other of his masquerade ). It's torture. It's almost enough to make him snap but then the smaller man shatters any sensible space that still lingered between them and breaks through this tension with a confident, unassuming step. Unassuming, unassuming, of course, how could he assume? How could something, anything even begin to deduce what his intentions are? It leaves him with an odd feeling, a marking of a beginning and a marking of an end, and to the despair of his risen shoulders and his hitched breath, it almost seems as though the other knows this as well. I'm not your lamb for slaughter. The lines between slaughter and sacrifice are blurred; he decides, vehemently, that he will not give that line further thought.

His smile takes him aback, confuses him and perhaps he should be soothed that he drops his brash attitude and chooses to indulge in his offer but the chuckle he gifts him in return shows nothing of his appreciation. Another breath before he shakes his head, letting him move to his side to commence their route back to the church. And, briefly, he is lost to his euphoria, to the steps he will have continue once they are back that he almost does not hear his question. A name. He supposes he can entertain him because, after tonight, he won't utter it anyway. " I'm Adam. What is yours? " All religious titles dropped; he is neither vicar nor shepherd. No, he is leading them both to damnation. He won't let him get away.

-------.

Even though he left the door of the church cracked open, the sickly sweet stench of incense remains, the edges of the scent burnt already. There is an attempt at normalcy as he shakes the water droplets off his umbrella and puts it down behind the last row of pews, where he too turns to Hidan to speak, bowing his head slightly and lowering his voice to mimic the calm atmosphere of these holy walls. " You can sit wherever you'd like. I just have to finish one last thing, it won't take long. " And he walks off before another remark can be made, before another distraction steals him away.

The walk towards the altar feels like a descent towards hell ( has Dante in his divine, ironic comedy ever considered that you do not need to tumble through the woods to find your way to the abyss? ) but his gaze is focused and clear. He knows what he wants to do, has to do; everything has culminated into this. A black candle greets him, its flame unbothered by the relentless winds of the night, burning brightly and casting even more intense shadows wherever its light does not reach, the flames of the other candles shaking in its presence. Steady fingers reach out to extinguish them, one by one, letting darkness consume the room, enveloping them ( a baptism in its beginning ). He sinks to his knees, presses his palms together with his fingertips pointing downwards. And then he sings, quietly, a mumble with a tune:

" Vetus, dominus. O angelus abyssi. Tu dominator animarum, Impia creatura. Surge de flamma, profer tenebras et exstingue omnem Dei lucem. "

And no sooner had he himself risen from his prayer, does he pick up a small knife that idly rests next to a silver bowl, gleaming disturbingly in the dim light and scorching hot within his palm. No hesitation, no qualms, no fear as he stabs himself into his side ( no wonder, no care what Hidan thinks of this. He will stay. He cannot leave. ). He grunts and then stifles the maniacal laugh that threatens to escape him before he moves on to do the same to his palm, piercing through it to then let the blood seeping through his sacrificial wounds pool into the bowl. Delirium moves his limbs as he falls again, lifting his offering to the high heavens, to the deep damnation below.

" Rise, o Lord! Rise from the abyss! Open the gates of hell and tear the earth apart! "

Silence. He is frozen in his position. It almost seems as though whatever he attempted to achieve has failed. Would never succeed. Until------.

Bubbles pop. Steam rises and crimson blood begins to turn black. And from this pool of liquid darkness something begins to emerge.