#can't bring herself to just do the suicide but suicide by monster is just as good

[umbrellamedic]

Not all vampires are the same; this is a fact stove people can't appreciate. Michaela can appreciate it only because killing them is how she makes her way through the world. A fisherman knows there are many types of fish; a huntsman knows there is more than one type of animal, and Michaela knows there are many studies species of vampire.

Her latest encounter was with a kind more human than most. Not just in appearance, but in ability. Resilient, fast, and strong, but lacking in some of the qualities that made other types of vampire much more difficult to kill. All they took was the liberal use of fire. Most of the work was done by the vampires themselves when they picked a cave with only one exit to nest in.

"I had really hoped for better," the hunter grunts to no one but the bones of her prey as she removes what's left of the heads from the charred, truly dead corpses and stuffs them into a sack. "With how many of you there were, this really should have been it. My final hunt. My glorious final stand."

The final one has the same opened mouth expression as the rest. A final scream that keeps their jaw pried apart after whatever animated them has left. The skin that should have formed lips burnt away, and in her sour mood the hunter is sure it looks like some kind of mocking grin. She stomps on the thing, damaging it. It's intact enough, she'll still get paid when she brings proof of death to her client.

"Oh well; maybe next time will be the one I do not return from and I will finally get some rest."

[balanceoflightanddark]

Azula and Responsibility

Should Azula take responsibility for what she's done? This is a question that the fandom has repeatedly asked in discussions about her and the possibility of redemption.

The answer is obviously "yes". Every way you slice it, she wasn't exactly the best person. She hurt her friends, treating them more like soldiers than people. She wasn't the best sister. She did support her father and the Fire Nation's imperialistic cause. If she wants to improve, she ultimately does need to take responsibility. That's not in debate.

What is in debate is "how much"?

There is a difference between "personal responsibility" and "systemic accountability". Personal responsibility is doing what you realistically can for yourself to right wrongs and better yourself. Systemic accountability is when the issue is so huge, it can't be solved by a single person alone or can realistically only be handled by those in power.

Now what does this mean in regards to Azula? Well it means is that while she should take responsibility, it's unfair to expect her to take responsibility for what she had no control over. She should apologize to Ty Lee and Mai for how she treated then. However, she shouldn't be expected to take personal responsibiliy for being indrocinated to believe that mindset of "fear is the only reliable way". At most, she should learn that it's wrong and make amends for that. Not beat herself up for believing it in the first place.

Same thing with Zuko. She does need to work on her end to better their relationship. Yet she can't be expected to do all the heavy lifting on her end when Zuko wasn't the best brother to her either. Should she take some responsibility for her part in the war? Yeah, but it's unfair to bury her with all the crimes her nation and father caused. Even if you want to argue that she was the one who suggested the "burning the Earth Kingdom" plan, it was Ozai who drafted, organized, and implemented it when all she did was bring it up as a possibility.

The thing about responsibility is that it's a double edged sword. You need to know what you're taking responsibility for. If you take too much responsibility for stuff you had absolutely no control over, you're creating this mountain of guilt and crimes. Eventually it becomes insurmountable and you end up being burnt out and feeling like an irredeemable piece of shit. Which is what Azula already feels like. She feels she's a monster that can't redeem or change herself. So what's forcing her to take up so much guilt going to do? Either she's going to double down on her belief, or she's going to do something pretty damn stupid and almost suicidal in some misguided attempt to atone.

And she does know she screwed up. She does know she treated Mai and Ty Lee unfairly. Azula said so herself in the mirror scene. Besides, why else would she at least care about either of them in "The Beach" or try to do right by them? Was it unhealthy and didn't reach the root of the problem. Yes, but at least the intent is there. The problem is that Azula wasn't able to realize that treating your friends like soldiers is inherently toxic. And if we want to get on her case about being a bad sister, she was willing to try and build up bridges with Zuko in Book 3. Multiple times as a matter of fact. It's just that Zuko's resentment and experiences in the Earth Kingdom changed him that it just wasn't feasible.

It's not that Azula shouldn't take responsibility for what she's done. She should, and obviously is willing to. It's more of a question when enough is enough. Where should she draw the line when taking too much responsibility?

[pacifymebby]

Trouble / Chapter Thirty Six

Alfie

"The fuck are you thinking Solomons you can't take her to that fucking hospital!"

The peaky boys temper really was quite amusing, a little touching even. I couldn't help but laugh at him when he tried to get all up in my face.

Sylvia had slipped away when I'd told her to find a coat, but he'd just stood there, glaring at me. His teeth gritted, nostrils flared. Very angry. When I'd told him that - that he looked very upset - he'd almost lost it. Almost gave me the excuse I'd been looking for to smack a little bit of sense into him.

Because if there was one thing I couldn't get my head around, it was how he could have been so stupid as to help her sneak out in the first place. How he could possibly have thought bringing her to me, came under the notion of "keeping her safe."

She didn't look very safe to me. Wandering around my town house in what was a very, very dangerous part of London now for anyone who bore the name Shelby.

"My fuckin house peaky boy," I said with a smirk and a shrug, hands in my pockets, "I can do whatever I like."

I felt childish saying it to him but the glee it sparked in me to see him scowl. To hear him try and reason with me again, it was too much to resist.

"That hospitals an open target and you know it, she could get herself killed!" He hissed at me, teeth bared in my face. But his hypocrisy kept me smiling, his infuriation only growing.

"Perhaps you shoulda thought about that eh lad, before you enabled this reckless, no no no, fucking suicidal crusade she's on yeah... Don't talk to me about her safety right treacle, because so far right, so far sweetheart, I ain't got no evidence at all, not a fuckin shred, that you've done anything to keep your fuckin word..." I said jabbing him in the chest then, gritting my own teeth as I leered over him, shoved him with one hand on his shoulder against the door frame. "You want to talk about her precious safety yeah, riddle me this khamer, riddle me fuckin this... If you care so much about her fuckin safety then what in the name of all that is good and fuckin right on this here gods earth yeah, did you fuckin bring her here for eh? To me... To this fuckin deathtrap city yeah? Why the hell did you go an do something like that?"

He glared up at me, ever insolent, sullen as Sunday evening, scowling as I debated saying anything else. I could have held my tongue, could have kept the rest of my scattered thoughts to myself, the concerns I had for the girl he'd walked into my office the day before. And for a moment I had decided to. To let him go.

But when he tried to defend himself I couldn't help myself. Couldn't help the loathing I felt for him when he tried to give me an excuse.

"You didn't fuckin see her in her bedroom window with a gun to her fuckin head Alfie, you don't know what she's like!"

It was impossible not to sneer then. Impossible to hold myself back. It was the least I could do when I grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall, ground my teeth and spat every word at him.

"And you do do you treacle? Think you know the little girl well yeah? Cause the thing is right, that little girls been living in my territory since she was 8 years old, that's fuckin 10 years yeah... And you know who it is thats been keeping her and her sister safe these past ten years? Any guesses peaky boy? Who's been keeping the fucking monsters from under her bed, who's been keeping the hooded fuckin claw at bay? Any guesses sweetheart? Ten years of peace and fuckin quiet?" I asked, fist shoving him up against the wall a second time just to drive the point home. "Any ideas?"

Isaiah maintained the same sullen glare, refusing to back down. The challenge in his eyes making me want to smack his stubborn sulk clean from his face. But I wouldn't. And I wouldn't because of Sylvia. Because I needed her to trust me too.

"Think I might know her a bit better than you think khamer."

I shoved him one last time and then left him standing there with his stupid sullen face on. The hunch of his shoulders only driving home my initial observation. That he was wildly out of his depth. That Tommy had made a mistake placing his wildest little sister in the care of this sullen adolescent who was clearly too soft on her to behave objectively.

"Sylvia!" I called listening for the sound of her little feet on the stairs, "Sylvia poppet.." I didn't turn round to see the glower on Isaiah's face but I could feel it, his glare burning into the back of my skull, left a little smirk dancing on my lips. A smirk which faded the second I saw her at the top of the stairs. Her frail silhouette, the way she seemed to teeter on the edge of the steps. I wasn't a nervous man but seeing her descend those stairs had me on edge. Her movements so delicate that she seemed unstable and I felt the urge to climb the stairs too just so that I could help her down them.

"Right darlin, you got a coat? Cause I think you'll probably need a coat yeah cause the skys not exactly lookin too promising an I've got a bad feeling about the rain today yeah... We'll need to get you somethin to keep you cosy warm I reckon?" I said when she'd reached the bottom of the stairs and was stood just in front of me. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked down at her, a concerned little frown on my brow.

She looked up at me with eyes which reminded me of her brother's. That same distance in them. Like she wasn't really standing in front of me at all.

I didn't like it. It wasn't that it made me nervous, didn't disturb me the way it was intended to. The way it did most people. It was that it left a certain sadness chewing away at my heartstrings. Made me feel all kinds of melancholic when I looked at her and saw all the feeling drained from her. Because I understood that look on her brother, understood it in the eyes of Polly Gray, but I didn't understand it on someone as young as her. Someone who had for the most part, been kept safe from the horrors of the world I lived in.

She looked cold. Her skin had a greyness about it, a translucence which made me wary to touch her. But one look at her told me that that was what she needed. Hands on her shoulders to hold her. Because more than anything she looked lonely and a little scared. Despite all her efforts I could see the apprehension in her eyes.

"Yeah," I said as I looked her up and down, "We'll find you a nice warm coat and uh, something with a hood I reckon, yeah, cause it's gonna rain I reckon and we wouldn't want you catchin a chill would we poppet." I said as I called out for one of my boys to come and find the girl a coat, "one of my hoodies an all," I shouted after the lad as he disappeared up the stairs, "a pair of sunglasses too mate..." I added because I could predict the look she'd get on her when she had to leave her cousin in his hospital bed.

Fuckin heartbroke. And she wouldn't want to admit it, she'd hate anyone who looked in her direction whilst she was trying her best to fight back her tears.

When the lad I'd shouted to had returned with a black Barbour jacket and a dark pullover, Sylvia didn't even seem to notice him. He stood by waiting for her to take them from him and she just stood there looking straight through him vacantly until I coughed and caught her attention.

"Thank you Ben," I said, "good lad, now I ain't takin Cyril with us cause well he don't really like hospitals and they don't really like him, so you make sure he gets his lunch yeah, right, come here poppet," I turned my attention back to Sylvia when I saw she'd taken the coat but had made no move to put it on. "Let me help you with that yeah sweetheart," I said pulling the hoodie down over her head, kick-starting her reactions so that when I stepped away she slipped her arms into the sleeves and shrugged the jacket on too, coming back to us from wherever it was she'd slipped away to. "There we go see, now don't you just look the part darlin," I said fixing the collar of her jacket before I shrugged mine on and tucked her under my arm leading her out into the driveway.

It didn't go unnoticed by me that she didn't look back over her shoulder for Isaiah, didn't go unnoticed how she'd shoved her hands in her pockets and stepped out that front door with all the impatience and confidence of someone who took it for granted that they were safe. That nothing untoward would ever infringe upon their little life. And I knew she wasn't really naive enough to believe all that. Could see it somewhere in the swirl of those empty sorry eyes that she was a frightened little rabbit who wasn't really sure who the big bad wolf was anymore.

Made me wonder what had changed. The day before when she had walked into my study and danced on my rug, she'd kept glancing at the lad who watched her so possessively, as if to reassure herself that he was still there. Today she seemed to be living as if he was long gone and it was brutal. The way she'd looked straight through him when he'd tried to reason with her. Brutal the way she appeared to have turned on him so quickly. He was lucky really, that I was so hospitable. That I valued the agreements between me and the Peakys. That I didn't really intend on hurting him or the girl who'd so willingly abandoned him in favour of me. In favour of getting her own way. If I had they'd both have been completely fucked now.

Then again, Sylvia was a canny girl and I didn't doubt she'd have worked all that our for herself.

"Now then poppet, since as I promised we're going to have a little Alfie/Sylvie bonding day yeah, I thought you might like to choose which car we go in?"

From beneath my arm she looked around the drive at the cars which were parked up, looking no doubt for the one she had arrived in, a small frown etched into the bridge of her nose when she didn't see it.

"What happened to my car?" She asked making me chuckle, my smile lingering fondly as I shook my head.

"Well you see little Shelby, you see that wasn't actually yours now was it... And having stolen cars yeah, especially posh fuckin stolen cars, parked up in your driveway right, it just ain't a good look is it... So that old things long gone yeah, long gone..."

"Makes sense." She said shrugging herself free from my hold around her, walking up to the side of a black number with tinted windows and ostentatious unnecessar-in-the-big-city four wheel drive, "This one please Mr Solomon's."

Her manners amused me then. When she turned back over her shoulder to look at me, waiting for me to unlock the door. How she'd gone from vacant and sullen to suddenly sweet again. It didn't surprise me though, everything I'd seen of her over the last few years had taught me to expect this from her. The rumours and whispers which went round about her. The fact that no one ever quite believed she was dealing to the other girls at her school, the way even I'd struggled to believe she might have any bad habits to fund with illicit business endeavours.

Because she was the sweetest girl in London and everyone knew it. It was easy to believe she was a Gray because you wouldn't for one second believe she was related to her brothers.

And yet, there she was, leaning up against the side of my car with a gun tucked somewhere in the back of her ballet skirt. One she thought I didn't know about. But of course I did.

Sylvia

I leant against the side of the car looking up at Alfie, wide brown eyes blinking up at him. I was doing my best to remind him of the girl he thought he knew. The sweet, innocent Shelby. If I could appeal to his little known soft side I knew I would be safe. Knew not only that, but that if I could appeal to that softer side he'd treat me as I knew he had always treated Sonya. With a doting kind of softness.

Because I wasn't naive to all the ways Alfie and his men had been keeping watch over me and my sister since Tommy had packed us off to London. I wasn't naive to the reasons I'd gotten away with dealing on his territory, the reasons it had been so much harder for me to get into trouble.

And after Isaiah's hateful display in the middle of the night I knew I didn't really have anyone. Not just to dote on me but at all.

I'd been tired last night, tired but determined. Fuelled by a desperation to see my cousin, to see him alive so that someone could be there to hold his hand, to tell him he was going to be alright. That was a heavy emotion to carry. And the heavy emotions, those are the emotions I struggle to carry for very long. The feeling too overwhelming. Overpowering enough to leave me shaking, nerves frazzled. Heart pounding in desperate need of something to numb. And when Isaiah had pinned me down, his elbows and fists digging into my arms, his body weight baring down on me, marking me with grey and blue bruises. When he'd spat those unforgiving things at me in the dead of the night he had flipped that switch in my brain again and just like that the numbing had begun.

I'd lay there on my back all night, gazing up at the ceiling until I'd fallen asleep. Numb even in my dreams when I'd seen Sonya in a lake floating face down, hair and white dress floating around her. Numb even when I'd awoken from the dream with all the certainty that it had been a little more than just a dream.

I had turned my head to see Isaiah asleep, listened to his restful breathing and resented him for the peace he had found after instilling such a doomed feeling in me. Not fear but something worse. A nothing that eats you from the inside out.

If I'd been at school there'd have been ways of coping. If I'd have had my sister nearby there'd have been someone to ground me. But I wasn't at school and I didn't have Sonya. I was alone in the passenger side of Alfie Solomons car and he was looking at me with a contemplative calm on his scarred face.

We'd been sitting in the quiet for several minutes now. The both of us sitting still, looking out over the dashboard at the driveway and the thick iron gates which remained closed. He hadn't said a word, hadn't reached for the keys or tried to start the car.

We were simply sitting there side by side. And because I was tired, and because that hollow feeling had been left to grow and grow, I didn't mind. Wasn't concerned about the stillness or the silence. Wasn't worried that the erratic older man might snap whilst we were alone.

"Now," he said, his hands resting on the wheel, "you may have noticed, little Shelby, that we have been sitting in this vehicle now for five minutes, and I ain't yet made any efforts to start driving..." He patted his hands against the wheel and then let go, hands in his lap, then back to the wheel.

"Well I know you like to take your time with things Alfie..." I said with a little smirk, turning to meet his gaze with an impish light in my eyes. Pleased when he smirked too.

"Yeah," he said nodding his head, frowning as if thinking the notion over quite seriously, "yeah, I suppose you could say that little Shelby, I suppose you could say that yeah, cause I do... Slowness yeah, as Milan Kundera used to say, how did he say it, right yeah, there is a secret bond between slowness and memory, between speed and forgetting..."

I knew the book he was quoting well and smirked as I leant back into the headrest, let the seat hold me. Remembering for a moment quite how tired of holding myself up I was. Quite how tiring everything really was sometimes.

"The degree of slowness is directly proportional to the intensity of memory, the degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting," I said with a bored drawl, cutting him off with a small smile, it was a notion I'd always appreciated, even if I didn't particularly agree.

"Oh so you know it then," he smirked, "you're familiar with his philosophy on relaxing, taking your time..." I wasn't expecting him to turn then, the way he stared the conversation round a corner so carefully, so gently that when he asked his next question he really did catch me out and leave me speechless, "clearly don't believe in it yourself though do you little Shelby," he said, "something about slowing down taking one's time, don't really appeal to you or somethin poppet? That why you've spent the last few months pestering my boys for a bit of Charlie?"

I bit my lip.

"And on school nights no less..." He said with a quiet little whistle, faux amazement, almost as if he were teasing me. The frown on his features saying otherwise.

"Yeah," he said when I remained quiet, "silence," he said, "yeah sweetheart I was expecting that." He said, fingers still drumming one by one along the wheel. Slow and steady. Almost hypnotic. I couldn't help but watch them rather than him as he spoke. "Yeah, little miss Frankie Valli in my passenger seat," he said with a sigh, "now I must say poppet, if you were any other girl right, any average 18 going on 19 year old girl, I wouldn't be so... How dya put it eh? Concerned? Yeah we'll say concerned. If you were any other girl I wouldn't be all that concerned about a bitta blow on a Friday night yeah, but you little Sylvie with your opera house dreams and your sparrows appetite, you my girl, well... I'm puzzled right... Now dealing yeah, thats one thing, and of course dealing on my streets well that's just f... That's just plain cheeky ain't it... But sniffin the stuff, nurturing a habit of your own... Now poppet, really?"

When he said that word, really, he looked at me with his head cocked slightly, a look of genuine confusion on his scarred face.

I didn't say anything. Smiled a little because he sounded like some old werrit. Like an aunt who gets all her news from the daily mail and still gets it confused.

But I didn't say anything because I didn't really know what to say. It was true, I had asked on a handful of occasions for a bit of coke or some mdma from some of his lads... And sometimes it had been with the intention of selling it on to girls I went to school with who were richer than me and whose places in class were not so fragile as mine. And it was true that sometimes I'd been known to trial the goods or share a bag between friends in the bathroom of a bar in town. But those occasions were rare, blue moon rare and it wasn't so much I hadn't thought Alfie would find out, it was that I hadn't really imagined he would care.

"What's the matter poppet?" He asked, "didn't think it'd get back to me? You were asking my boys after all, an my boys are good lads ain't they, you know that... Always done a good job lookin out for you and your sisters yeah? You know they're good, honest lads, course they told me what you'd been up to poppet and don't get me wrong yeah, don't get me wrong, I'd rather you were getting it off my lads than say, Italians... But here's the thing yeah, I'd rather you weren't doing it at all..."

"Didn't realise you were so invested in my wellbeing Alfie..." I started with a small smile. Glad to know that my theory had been correct. That the old grudge of Camden Town had a soft spot for at least some of life's beauties, that his care for me and my sister wasn't simply bankrolled by Tommy. That our art had made us an interest to him too.

"Actually poppet I know you ain't that naive so I don't wanna hear none of that yeah, if you didn't know all of that already you wouldn't have skipped into my office yesterday, wouldn't have slept the night in one of my spare bedrooms... Certainly wouldn't have left your boyfriend behind with my boys... Would you?"

I smirked at that. The bitter tone with which he said the word boyfriend. I wondered whether he had realised the resentment which came out with the word, wondered if he thought I would pick up on it. Was only grateful that the spite, the hatred Isaiah had showed me in the middle of the night had drained me enough of feeling that the suggestion didn't leave me struggling to hide a blush as it might have done even a handful of days before.

"No." I said, thinking about correcting him, deciding I definitely didn't need to.

"No," he confirmed nodding his head slowly, starting the ignition and beginning to creep slowly towards the towering iron gate at the end of the drive. "No, you wouldn't..." He said drumming his fingers again. "See the thing is my darlin," he said starting again just when I had begun to think he might let us rest in silence for the journey, "the thing is yeah, now you're going to be staying with me for a little while yeah, little old me - a very 'ospitable man right - now youre gonna be staying with me for a little while yeah, your health and safety and general wellbeing right, well that's all my responsibility aint it... And your peaky boy lapdog might be a bit of a soft touch yeah, might value keeping you sweet over keeping you safe yeah, but I, am first and foremost, primarily concerned with all of the above yeah? That is your health, your safety and your general sense of spiritual wellbeing, right?"

I nodded my head, held my hands in my lap and played with the rings on my fingers.

"So I'm gonna ask you very nicely yeah, and we're going to come to a couple of little agreements yeah?" He waited this time for me to answer him and when I nodded my head he nodded his too almost satisfied.

"Good," he said, "good girl."

I looked out of the window at the street as we pulled out of Alfie's driveway. I hadn't realised the evening we'd been brought to his house but he lived on a private road, one of those with a monitored gate at both ends. Huge evergreens which lined the avenue. Like something from an old movie. So quiet, so peaceful. It seemed strange to be driving down it with such a gruff, brutal man by my side.

"So, agreement one, I reckon it's pretty self explanatory right, plain old common sense yeah... You keep your precious distance from those illicit substances yeah?" He asked, of course it wasn't a question and it also wasn't really a question which needed to be asked. How was I supposed to deal his drugs when I was essentially under his house arrest.

"I haven't got a drugs habit," I said chewing my cheek, glancing to my right to look at him. He was watching the road now but every now and then he would turn his attention back to me.

"Agreement number two," he raised his voice a little to hush me, cracking am almost cheeky grin when I smirked, "me an you yeah, we're gonna uphold a policy of truth... You know what that means little Shelby?" He asked without giving me a chance to answer him, "you ain't gonna tell me no more lies alright? You're gonna be a good, honest little lady from now on yeah?"

I nodded my head and waited for him to move on but when he remained silent, held his tongue and turned back to me, his brow raised, I realised he was waiting for me to speak up.

"Truth," I said, "are you gonna tell me the truth?"

I'd half expected him to laugh at me, to think me naive for asking the question. Surely his answer couldn't possibly satisfy me.

And yet it did.

When he appeared to soften upon looking at me, his eyes flickering over me, my bored sullen features, my body tucked beneath his hoodie and coat. I thought I saw a flicker of sympathy. Wanted to hate him for it.

"Yeah poppet, I'm gonna tell you the truth an all." He nodded his head solemnly. Tapped his hands on the steering wheel as we slowed in the traffic.

"Now number three, I ain't really sure how to word this yeah, not when you seem to be as wild and as reckless as the rest of your bloody family... And we've come full circle really right because it ties in rather nicely with rule number one I reckon... Rule number three yeah, you little miss Shelby, are gonna stop putting yourself in harm's way yeah... You're gonna start eating your f... Eating your breakfasts and getting your early nights, and you're gonna hop off this little suicidal roller coaster you seem to think you're on now yeah... I'm taking you to see your cousin now right, because although I might have the reputation of a cold blooded serial killer yeah, a soulless bloody monster... I'm still not fond of seeing little girls such as yourself, looking as fuckin... Sorry poppet, I'm really tryin here you know poppet, yeah... I don't like seeing little girls lookin as sad as you looked last night... So I'm doing you this kindness, against my better judgement... And the way I see it right, the way I see it is that if me, yeah, an 'orrible, evil old man, can compromise and take you to see your rather messed up cousin in the hospital, then you my sweet, you poppet, can be good for a couple of weeks yeah, you can at least do me a favour and make takin care of you a little bit bloody easier..."

"You want me to eat breakfast?" I asked feigning confusion. Trying to pretend I didn't really understand what he'd been banging on about for the last five minutes.

We were nearing the hospital now and I was hoping that if I stalled a little longer his absent mind would wander. But I knew better than to believe his mind was really absent at all.

"Amongst many other things my darlin..." He said a little softer, his voice strangely gentle as he spoke to me then. He met my gaze across the car and held it. Gave me this look I didn't want to understand. It was one of concern, one I wasn't quite sure I wanted to trust.

"And if I don't promise you?"

"Well," he said pushing his bottom lip out in s pout, hid thick brows knitting together too, "well that wouldn't be very nice would it sweetheart, that wouldn't make me a very happy man..."

I let us linger in silence, him still pulling that ridiculous face at me. My mind flitting through my limited options. If he had simply been asking me to promise to "look after myself" I could have done so easily, could have made my throwaway vow and not worried, not felt guilty for breaking it. It was everything else I was hesitant to agree to.

"You know poppet I'd really rather you did..."

"After we've been to see Michael..." I started, let him cut me off because I wasn't entirely sure what I was asking him to clarify.

"Yeah, after we've been to see Michael today right, I want you to drop all this runnin around with guns and gangsters, stealin cars and killing your neighbours... Ain't healthy is it... Ain't no way for a young lady with opera house aspirations to be behaving... Might be your brother's game poppet but it ain't yours, shouldn't be yours..."

"Right..." I said letting my word linger in the quiet between us as he parked up outside the hospital doors.

"Right..." He said gesturing with one hand to coax me along, to get me to give him a little bit more. "You gonna say those magic words for me now yeah poppet? You gonna promise me from the bottom of your pretty pink heart?"

"Well you see that's just the thing Alfie," I said being careful to sound as sweet as I could, "I can't promise you anything until I've seen him can I?"

"Ain't hard little Shelby, it's just a handful of teeny tiny little words..." He said.

"I've just promised you I'll always tell you the truth though you see..." I bit my lip, tried to keep my voice steady as we neared the hospital and it's shadow loomed over the city. This old gothic looking building they'd never bothered to update.

I'd been in once for a suspected concussion. I'd fallen from a lift and knocked my head off another girl. Both of us had had to sit side by side waiting to be checked over. Both of us hoping they'd simply send us straight back to school. We'd been young enough then that a couple days off wouldn't really have mattered, but sitting there in the gloom of that waiting room had struck fear into us both. I'd learnt after that to lie, to do my best to hide each and every injury so as never to end up back there. Especially as the injuries got worse and the chance at an over night stay grew higher.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah you have... So perhaps yeah, I need to ask you another question then, bare with me poppet, I reckon this will be my last for now right?"

I waited quietly for him to carry on, sat patiently whilst he pulled us onto the hospital car park and mulled his thoughts over. His thumb stroked the steering wheel maintaining that hypnotic rhythm and I found myself once again unable to take my eyes off his hands. The rings on his fingers which caught the sunlight each time he flexed or drummed that slow rhythm against the leather wheel.

"Alright," he said, "answer me this little Sylvia," he said, "can you even shoot that gun you've got tucked away in your skirts?"

"You think I've spent the last ten years at a boarding school full of Hampshire's most promising without ever visiting a shooting range..."

"Bit different sweetheart, a little bit different that I reckon..."

"All the same," I said, "I know how to fire a gun."

"Alright," he said, "alright darlin I believe you yeah, reckon you probably do know how to fire a gun actually yeah you're very right, very correct... But don't you think yeah, it might be best to leave the killing to your brother's... Now don't get me wrong I'm no misogynist..." I bit back a laugh when he said that.

"Of course not..."

"Exactly, of course not," he reiterated, "but don't you think yeah, that on this occasion, when you ain't shootin at little targets, and the targets in question are pretty experienced when it comes to shootin back, don't you think it might be better to leave this one up to your big brothers...."

"If I could trust them I would." I said solemnly, with such certainty that all Alfie could really do was nod his head. There was no defending my brothers treachery. This wouldn't be the first instance of him lying and manipulating the family, of him selling blood down the river in the name of preservation and the greater good. Alfie knew that better than most. He'd been on the receiving end of that imorral streak more than once.

So instead he simply nodded, sat there by my side staying quiet for long enough that the subject changed without either of us trying.

I looked out at the carpark, he'd parked us close to the doors, in a disabled bay no less, and I wasn't naive enough not to know why.

He wasn't expecting this to be a simple visit. Wasn't expecting to get me from the hospital back to his all in one piece.

I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth, watched the automatic doors slide open and closed.

"Now I reckon I already know how this is gonna go yeah little Sylvia," he said lowering his voice, "ain't gonna patronise you though yeah, just gonna do my due diligence right and let you know, ain't gonna be pretty, an I'm sure you've a stronger stomach than most little girls yeah, but if at any point you want to leave yeah, either cause it's all a bit much or cause you've got a bad feeling about somet, you just give me a look yeah, any look you like right cause I'm a clever old man me and I will know exactly what you mean yeah, you just give me the look and I'll have you outa there in seconds... No questions asked right?"

"I'll be fine." I said starring straight ahead. I already knew what I was going to see, already knew it would be devastating, would probably sicken me. Already knew I wasn't going to feel safe once we left that car. Already knew that if in fact something awful happened and the enemy were waiting for us, Alfie might not be able to get me out at all. That once we left the sanctuary of his car, we had to accept we might never return to it.

"But thank you all the same." I said a little quieter, my hand reaching for the door handle. Hovering for a moment when he stopped me, his hand on my thigh. A softness in his low gravelly voice when he implored me to look back at him once more.

"I'm sure you will be little one," he said, his eyes warm, almost emotional, "I don't doubt you for a moment my dear."

Michael looked terrible. Everything everyone had warned me, the brutal descriptions and implications paled in comparison to the truth which lay, unconscious in a hospital bed, wires slithering like snakes from his nose, oxygen mask covering his face, latched onto him like a parasite. A cannula in his hand, yellow and purple bruising watercolour staining his knuckles. He looked dead, a corpse wired up to a machine. Some kind of dystopian Frankensteins monster esque figure.

He had two black eyes and a broken nose, his skin sore. Patched up in so many places, two many bloody bandages and packed wounds to count.

He'd had major surgery, medical induced coma, under constant observation. He was on a ventilator for now and when the nurse had looked at me she hadn't told me not to worry.

But it wasn't the state of him that worried me. Because I kept telling myself that if there wasn't a chance they could save him, they'd have given his bed to someone they could save.

It wasn't the blood and the deathly shadow which stained him.

It was the fact that when we'd arrived the men Tommy had organised to watch his room, to wait outside and guard him with their lives, were both napping. One had fallen asleep playing fucking candy crush on his phone, the other had dosed off with his flat cap tilted down across his eyes.

Alfie had seen them in the same moment I had, his arm around my shoulder tightening his grip, tucking me into his side a little closer so that I couldn't escape or do anything drastic.

Before we'd left the car he'd told me to put my hood up, tucked my hair behind my ears and under the hoodie. He'd opened my door for me and his arm had fallen around my shoulder, tucked me into his jacket as if I belonged to him. I knew it was so people would think I did. So that anyone watching us would think twice about whatever moves they'd been ordered to make. I knew it was also because he was hoping he could get me inside without anyone realising who I was.

Now however he was holding me tight to his side to stop me waking the dinlows sleeping on duty with my gun. With the metal of my handgun cold and sharp against their skulls.

Instead they were woken by Alfie's subtle cough.

He wore a smirk on his lips that was smug, the kind intended to put them in their place immediately. And they were. When they woke it was with a start, scrambling to attention, their eyes wide when they saw not only me but the fearsome bastard king of Camden Town looming above them.

"Nap time is it boys?" He asked them with a chirpiness to his voice which wound me up beyond belief and left them stuttering to spit out an excuse. Though of course there was no excuse they could give me that would see me forgive them for their carelessness. "Leave them to me poppet, you're here to see your cousin right so you just go an see your cousin..." He said, his hand on my lower back pushing me through the door to Michael's room gently.

I hesitated, gripped by a cold, unforgiving anger when I turned my head to lock eyes with the lads that had been sleeping on duty. It was only when Alfie spoke again that I stepped inside Michaels room.

And when I saw him that familiar hollow feeling returned and sunk its teeth in deep. The numbing bite I knew wasn't going to let go. Because he was everything Isaiah had warned me and worse and the grey light from the rain outside only served to create an even more bleak mood in that sorry little hospital room.

I trod carefully towards his bed. Heard the door close quietly behind me. Heard the slam of someone's body up against the glass seconds later when Alfie began "dealing" with the lazy bastards who had valued a little nap over my cousins life. When I reached Michaels bedside I felt this receding feeling, like all the blood draining away from body leaving me untethered and half alive.

He looked half alive. Half man, half the wires and machines the doctors had fixed him up to in order to keep him alive.

There was a scar near his temple, an old wound and not from any real fight either. Him and John, when Michael was only small, they'd been fighting at the top of the stairs and John had tripped him. He'd tumbled down head over feet and knocked himself unconscious on the radiator. Well now there would be a second scar not so far from the first. The wound had been dressed and though the dressing was relatively fresh there was still a little blood poppy which had seeped through.

"Hi," I said softly, voice so quiet he wouldn't have heard it even if he'd been awake. And of course the moment the word left my lips I felt ridiculous. Over emotional, a child playing make believe, talking to a sleeping half-dead man pretending he could hear me because it made me feel better. Made me feel more in control. And what was I supposed to say to him anyway. I wasn't about declare that I'd avenge him or that everything was going to he okay. I wasn't and it wasn't and there was no point kidding either of us. Especially not myself.

So instead I did the only thing I knew how to do when people were lost or almost lost.

I drew the sign of the cross, head to heart, shoulder to shoulder. Mumbled the prayer I still carried from childhood but couldn't be sure I still believed in, father, son, holy spirit.

"Amen," I whispered before dropping to my knees at Michael's bedside, the cold hospital floor reminding me of my knees when it chilled me through my tights.

I didn't keep a rosary anymore - my mother would have cried - but I still wore my virgin mary round my neck and as I pressed my palms together I felt the warmth of her copper medal over my chest. Tried to think of her as I whispered a prayer to Saint Anthony. The only prayer I could really still remember because in her last year our mother had had us recite prayers to the patron saint of miracles every morning and night without ever telling us what miracle it was for which we were begging.

The older I had grown the more I had understood that the miracle had been for her. To save her from the curse which ran in our blood. The hollow feeling which gripped me now.

"Blessed be God in His Angels and in His Saints," I whispered, "Saint Anthony pray for us." I said, eyes closed, palm to palm on the hospital floor. My forehead resting against the cool metal bedframe which held my unconscious cousin. "Saint Anthony, pray for us." I said it again, realising I could not remember the prayer as well as I had thought. Feeling untethered when I tried to conjor the memory of my mother kneeling by the fireplace in watery lane, praying to our statue of the virgin mary. When I realised how far from her, from home, I had grown.

"Blessed be God in His Angels and in His Saints, Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, pray for us..." I said, my lips moving quickly and quietly as I struggled to remember the flow and rhythm of the prayer. Outside I could hear Alfie, his words were muffled through the walls but I could hear the scuffling and panic they instilled.

"Whisper my petition into the ears of the sweet Infant Jesus, who...."

I could hear the groaned pain from one of Tommy's men, could hear the blunt thud as someone slowed against the wall.

"Who loved to be folded in your arms.... The gratitude of my heart will ever be yours..." I knew I hadn't uttered it correctly, knew there were verses I had long since forgotten. But it was the best that I could do as I knelt there on that cold floor, feeling oh so far away from my family and from my home.

I thought of Aunt Polly. What she would have given to trade places with me, to kneel at her son's bedside. And I worried that I was doing everything wrong, doing her a terrible disservice, michael too.

I was glad then that he couldn't hear me. That no one was witnessing my moment of childish weakness. Me fumbling through a prayer I used to know off by heart, hoping god and the saints would forgive me. Know that I was only trying to pray on behalf of Polly, who would have known every word and still believed in every prayer she uttered.

"Amen." I whispered as the door clicked open behind me. I heard Alfie's feet on the floor, the corridor was quiet but for wheezing and I already knew what he was going to say to me when I turned to look at him from where i knelt on the floor.

"Come on poppet time to go yeah, think I might have caused a little bit of upset..."

"No." I said remaining in my place on the floor, my fingers skimming over the miraculous medal around my neck. I hadn't expected myself to voice the doubt outloud until the defiance had left my lips but once it had I wasn't really shocked. The reckless way I was feeling today of course it had.

"Eh.. now hang on a minute girl..." said Alfie, he kept his voice quiet and sweet but I could tell he was growing impatient, "I thought we had an agreement yeah, you've seen your cousin so now..."

"That was before I knew Tommys men are fuckin incompetent!" I snapped.

"Woah, woah now little girl mind your language yeah..." he said holding his hands either side of his head.

"I'm not leaving him here alone."

"Yeah... well he ain't alone is he, your brothers lads are with him, keeping him safe..."

"They were asleep when we got here, you don't really expect me to trust them now?"

"Yeah well they was, asleep when we got here right... but darlin they ain't sleepin anymore right and you see me and you yeah, we need to leave right, cause I need to get you out of here yeah, away from you know..."

"Danger?" I asked still sitting quite stubbornly on the floor. "So I should be worried then? You're admitting it isn't safe to leave Michael unattended..."

"I mean..." he started, one hand on the back of his neck, the other joining it as he stepped inside and shut the door to with his foot. "No... it ain't safe for you Sylvia, but Michael... your cousin here, he'll..."

"Be fine will he? He's unconscious Alfie, completely fuckin defenceless... That how stupid you think I am? I'm not leaving him to lie here alone in this place like a fuckin sitting duck!" I snapped still kneeling at Michaels bedside determined not to be moved.

"Alright poppet enough of that yeah, I've had enough."

"I mean it Alfie."

"Yeah alright so you mean it," he said approaching me with a sudden temper on him, one which sent my heart racing in my chest, more so when he pulled me up from the floor with one simple movement. He grabbed my arm just above my elbow and yanked me to my feet so fast that I stumbled straight into his side. He held my head to his chest and ushered me into a far more gentle hold, softening again so quickly I ought to have had whiplash.

"Well I mean this yeah, it's time to go sweetheart, can't linger here yeah, especially because your brothers useless lot were sleepin on the job, its dangerous yeah, for you... and its you I care about protecting right..."

"I'm not leaving him with them" I said a little quieter as I pushed away from his chest just enough that I could meet his eyes with my own glare. He realised I was going to cry before I did, saw the glisten of tears in my eyes before I felt them. And I didn't feel them because I still felt so very hollowed out, the only feeling I had to latch onto my hatred for the useless lads outside.

"Eh..." he said even quieter then, his hand on my cheek calloused and rough despite his gentle hold, "I know, I know... you don't wanna leave him alone I know Sylvia, I know..."

"I'm not fuckin l..." I started but his thumb stroking my chin left my words hanging stale and forgotten in the air.

"We ain't gonna yeah," he said stroking my cheek gently with his knuckles before taking my head in his palm and guiding my face back to his chest, holding me against him. Doing me a kindness in hiding my tears from the two of us. Allowing me to pretend they weren't there at all. "Now don't get upset yeah poppet, don't wanna get you upset yeah, been warned about that by your little lapdog right... tell you what I'm gonna do right, I'm gonna phone my boys yeah, get some real goodens down here, and they're gonna watch over your Michael, see he's alright... promise you, I'll pick a good few better than your brother did yeah, how about that?"

I listened to his voice mumbling his apparent promises to me, tried to calm myself with a few calculated breaths. Wanted to be able to look back up at him without tears glistening in my eyes. Wanted him to look at me as a Shelby he respected rather than a little girl he felt sorry for.

"Fine." I said knowing I had no choice. Knowing from the way he'd ulled me to my feet without a second thought that he could shift me like a rag doll whenever the notion took him and I would have no choice but to do as he wished.

I pushed back out of his embrace, his arm falling away from me easily, the smirk of approval on his lips when he saw that I had regained my cool glaze driving me to stand my ground.

"But we aren't going until I've seen them."

"Yeah," he nodded, his hand stroking my shoulder as he let me go, slid his phone out his pocket and made a call. Winking at me as he turned away from me and took several slow steps towards the window.

I stood where he had left me, suddenly cold as I pulled the coat he'd lent me a little tighter around my body. I pulled the hood of his pullover up over my hair and then I stood there, watching his back, listening to him as he spoke quiet and calm on the phone.

He lent with his elbows on the sill. Slipped his phone back into his pocket and then nodded me over to his side.

"Oh," he said with a smirk, a mischief in his chuckle with drew me closer to him out of curiosity, "would you look at that," he said beckoning me over to his side in the window.

I joined him, let him tuck me under his arm again as he held me close to his side and I followed his gaze down to the carpark where we could see our car quite clearly.

"Someones left you flowers look..." he said with a chuckle, nodding towards his car, a bouquet of lillies and lilac flowers wedged between the door handle on the passenger side, "now ain't that a bit sweet eh? Ain't that just adorable..."

I felt a shiver run through me, that blood draining away feeling flooding through me again. So he'd been right, we were being watched, the hospital, his house, perhaps both. Perhaps we'd been followed. Perhaps those lads outside had already been bought.

Perhaps when we walked out of here thered be Italian open fire ready to rip through us both.

I tried to swallow down the thought. Tried to ignore the creeping fear and accept what I'd brazenly gotten myself into.

Alfie let out a laugh as he turned us both away from the window and walked us far enough back into the room that we couldn't be seen from outside or from another window.

"Good job our Ollie's bringing us a new car darlin thats all I'll say yeah..." he smirked shaking his head, "fuckin Italians, awful cliches... awful." He tutted as he let his fingers drum that hypnotic little rhythm along my shoulder as he squeezed me into his side. "Like I said though yeah poppet, nothin to worry about... though I can tell yeah, already know you yeah... you ain't exactly one for worrying, aint exactly faint hearted..."

And then I knew he was just being kind.

@zablife @mollybegger-blog @liliac-dreamer @call-sign-shark @inalovesrabbits-blog @cocoaflowers

@itsghostgirlyo @marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag @everysage @tommyshelbywhore

@kxnnxy @kas3yhatesyou

@starrykitn @only-malala

@galactict3a @vanhelsingsbigtoe @darkcastle167

@feyresqueen @hp-hogwartsexpress @user469908764

@shylobster2020

[wandasreallover]

Wanda maximoff x reader| drabble

Warning-suicide, Wanda's death, this is low key sad

You stood on the edge of the cliff, your eyes glued to your wife as she used her powers to bring down Mount Wundagore,which would get rid of the dark hold for good but also take her life in the process. You had begged her not to do it, to find another way, but she was determined to do whatever it took to stop the threat that was endangering the multiverse-herself.

Tears streamed down your face as you watched her, knowing that this was the end.you couldn't tear your eyes away, couldn't leave her side even as the rocks began to fall around her.

You could see the strain on her face, the effort it took to control such immense power. And just as you thought she couldn't possibly take anymore, she mouthed the words, 'I love you.'

Those three words were enough to break you. You wanted to run to her, to hold her and tell her how much she meant to you. But you knew you couldn't, not with the danger that surrounded her.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Strange standing beside you. He could see the pain in your eyes, the desperation to be by your wife's side.

'Come on, we have to go,' he said, trying to lead you away from the scene, his views on her may have changed but yours hadn't you knew she wasn't a monster.

'No, I can't leave her,' you pleaded, trying to break free from his grasp as his hands now enclosed around your waist preventing you from getting to your wife.

'I know, but it's not safe,' he replied, his voice filled with understanding.

You shook your head, tears falling freely now. 'I can't lose her, not like this.'

'I know, I know,' he repeated, pulling you into a hug as you broke down in his arms.

You could hear the rocks crashing down, But all you could focus on was your wife, the love of your life, sacrificing herself to save the world.

Suddenly , everything went quiet. The rocks stopped falling, the dust settled, and you could see a shadow of your wife, lying motionless on the ground.

'No, no, no,' you sobbed, trying to run towards her.

But Doctor Strange held you back, using his powers to keep you from getting any closer. 'It's not safe.'

You collapsed in his arms, your heart breaking at the reality of losing her.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, until the tears eventually slowed into small hiccups and your chest heaved and ached at the lack of oxygen

leaving wasn't something you wanted to do that day you wanted to scream and cry for strange to do something anything to bring your beloved wanda back.but you knew better, that's not what she would have wanted. So that's why you're here now with an empty bottle of pills and a half empty bottle of whiskey which you don't even like, something you took a liking to as it numbed the pain for a while. Steven would understand he knows grief himself. So you sat there before you were reunited with your wife once more.

[huhwhuhs]

Alright time to write the obligatory Melinda suicide drabble don't read if that shit fucks you up

◇So... what's left?◇

◇An entire world, I know that, I have so much to explore.◇

◇...◇

[Blood dripped from the hands of their host, their husk-like body practically drenched in it. Melinda can feel the tears falling down their cheeks. They don't taste sweet anymore.]

◇What was the point of me going up here? I'm still imperfect in every way. I don't know how to be a person, the husk won't grow properly while I'm inside it, people will notice that I'm not like them.◇

[The body's legs would give out, Melinda letting them fall, she can taste how pain seeps into their mind from their bruised knees.]

◇Why did I even bring you into this? You had a family, didn't you? People who cared about you, who know who you are, who gave you a name and loved you for being an individual.◇

◇Why is it all so unfair?◇

◇Why don't I get warm meals from my mother? Playful fighting with my siblings? Why do you even get a dad!? Why don't I deserve this too!?◇

[The shaking would stop, she didn't even realize she was until he heard something go pop. The host was probably dead. She couldn't bring herself to care.]

◇... I'm a monster, aren't I? A parasite just like they said. I take and take and never give enough to make up for it.◇

◇I defected from my mother, let down generations of my family. I thought that gaining free will- breaking away from the mold would finally make me feel something-!◇

◇... But it never worked, did it?◇

◇I'm no better than they are, in fact, I've only made more lives worse.◇

◇The cold was miserable, but damn if it wasn't familiar, if it wasn't comforting in some sick and twisted way I can't even describe because it's so ingrained into my DNA I can't deny it!◇

◇God forbid I just want to feel WARM!◇

[Melinda would let go of the body, letting it drop to the ground as she curled up in its center, trying to hold onto the quickly fading bits of body heat.]

◇But I'm right there, aren't I? So close to the heat I craved. The thing I've heard so many of the others fantasize about feeling once more. The thing I've read about in books that are men sacrifice their own lives to get just that last bit closer.◇

[Melinda would tear a hole in the back of the body, peering out. The sun burned their newly pink eyes.]

◇Just a taste. A taste of how good it feels. I deserve that much for all I've accomplished.◇

[Black tentacles creep out from under the shade, smoke slowly curling off of them as it seared into the abyssal flesh.]

[The creature would crawl out, laying in the sun. Two glowing rings staring up at the burning star in the sky.]

[Their body withers with every second, shrivling and shrinking as it tries to keep some part of it left alive.]

[It sizzles and bubbled, dried, crusted flesh melting off their form and only revealing the more sensitive slop underneath.]

[It's eyes burned out, bright pink fading to white, then sizzling to black.]

◇... I understand why Icarus flew towards the sun.◇

◇It's finally warm.◇

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

Frozen genuinely works SO MUCH BETTER as a stage show then it does as a movie, probably because with musical's you have a lot more time to unpack everything, and Frozen is a VERY heavy story. Anna and Elsa's trauma is given so much more room to be explored in the musical because it doesn't need to be condensed for plot progression. We're allowed to just pause everything for like 3 minutes just to get a glimpse into what's going on in Elsa's mind, which I feel we really didn't get enough of in the original film. The extra time also gives them more of a chance to flesh out Anna and Kristoff's relationship, which, while I still think pairing them off at the end was unnecessary at BEST, does at least make them getting together make more sense then it does in the movie. They were also allowed to lean into the darker aspects of the story a lot more, since parents are less likely to take their kids to see a broadway show than they are to take them to a movie theater. The horror Elsa feels at the prospect of hurting people, or more specifically Anna, again is touched on so much more in depth in the musical. She also like, actively contemplates suicide that one time? "Do I kill the monster" - Elsa, in reference to herself. That would NOT have flown in the movie, I'll tell you that much. They're also allowed to be much hornier??? Which isn't necessarily a good thing, more neutral all things considered, but it is funny so I'll count that as a plus lmao.

Weirdly though, despite all the extra time, they did not take a minute to properly foreshadow Hans being the twist villain. Which you knew I had to bring it back to because complaining abt that fucking plot twist has been the only thing I've done in this fandom so far. In fact, I'd say the reveal is almost WORSE on stage, because they can't use all those camera angles that help build tension in the movie, and because the twist is so out-of-left-field there's literally no way to know it's coming unless you've already seen Frozen, which tbh I think the people that intially adapted the movie for broadway might've taken for granted. They took the time to give Hans his own solo number with TWO REPRISES, but don't take a moment to show the audience that he's actually the bad guy until the "if only there was someone who loved you" moment. Tbh it's kinda ironic, since the Hans plot twist is the #1 thing people tend to have a problem with in the original movie. My biggest issue with the Hans plot twist overall is that it really clutters the movie and just feels like a weird aside that distracts you from the actual. Plot. But since they have more room to work with it in the stage show, it didn't have to be that way! If they had revealed Hans' true intentions during, idk, maybe the end of the first Hans of the Southern Isles Reprise, it would've helped build tension in the later scene, because WE understand that Anna is in danger, but SHE doesn't. But alas, complaining about writing chocies you didn't like on the internet won't change them, so I am forced to look on the bright side. What is the bright side, you may ask?

RYAN MCCARTAN AS HANS THATS WHAT!!!!!!!

[cutesyscreenname]

I'd Be Home With You

One Shot

Pairing: Joel x fem!OFC

Summary: Based off the song In A Week by Hozier ft. Karen Crowley. On patrol, Joel and his love are attacked by clickers. They aren't so lucky this time so they do what they've always said they would if they both got bitten.

Word Count: 712

Warnings: death, decay, suicide, general angst and sorrow. I cried editing this.

A/N: I'm sorry I don't know why I felt compelled to write this. I hope its well done enough to make up for how deeply sad the story is.

We lay here for years or for hours

Your hand in my hand

So still and discreet

So long we become the flowers

We'd feed well the land

And worry the sheep

All is quiet in the vast expanse of tall grass and wildflowers. The prey have skittered into hiding, the predators have had their fill. Scavengers have circled and gone away. All that remains is the fanned blanket of fungi weaving across their still forms, pushing up around their entwined fingers gone stiff.

The first comes out of nowhere, shoving her to the ground in an instant. She presses against its chest as the thing writhes and gnashes relentlessly above her. She can't risk reaching for her weapon and give way to the force of it's weight, clearing a beeline between herself and its gaping maw.

The dull scrape of a knife sheathed in its skull, followed by the creature slumping away from her trembling body, brings only a second of relief.

"Joel! Behind you!"

He's older now, still strong as ever but just a hair slower then he once was and this brief lapse in reflex costs him everything. He manages to shoulder the monster onto the forest floor and she takes her opportunity to return his favor, sinking her blade between its unseeing eyes.

The sun's midsummer kiss nudges the vegetation to rise around them, unsuccessful in waking the pair from their cool slumber.

She sees it on him first, the teeth marks. Hearts flailing with adrenaline, neither feel the impact of their combat.

"Joel-" she chokes on her lover's name, tears already careening down the slopes of her muddied cheeks.

He notes the gash on her hand as she reaches for him, soft brown eyes turning to vivid umber, catching the setting sunlight as they wet with the agonizing realization.

"Joel you're bit."

His voice is low, broken. "You are too, baby."

The flies, the flowers, the crows, and the cordyceps. They dance together in harmony, taking what they need from the stillness. If there was anything to give back, their silhouettes refuse it kindly.

After minutes, maybe hours, their tears slow and still in each other's embrace.

"Okay baby. We talked about this. We're going out together. Just as we were, we ain't turnin'."

She nods slowly, hands cupping his saltwater scruff.

"I know baby. Just like we always said. It'll be alright."

"I ain't missin' this time." He says it to reassure her, so she won't fret that he might go mad all alone.

Hand in hand, resting on a plush bed of blooming pasture, eyes on each other's finding peace in what they find there, one last time.

"It's time, baby. I'm goin' home with you."

"I love you, Joel."

"I love you, darlin'."

Hammers pulled back, cool steel placing a goodnight kiss on their temples, counting together.

"3...2...1..."

Starlings scatter to the horizon.

When they didn't return that night from patrol, the search party began immediately. Joel's brother takes the lead, panic only sated by taking action.

It takes nearly a week, the groups rotating shifts and pushing out further each pass, until they find them.

The meadow is eerily silent, the tips of boots in grass catching the eye of the man who gives the alert.

Tommy comes running at the commotion before he's being held back by his fellow searchers.

Let me through right now that's my GODDAMN BROTHER! THATS MY FUCKING BROTHER LET ME GO!

There's nothing to be done, the narrative clear as day as mushroom caps blossom through the wounds at their temples.

Joel always knew things never turn out as planned, but since meeting her he felt certain that he would always end up where he was meant to be.

As the last light slips softly below the treeline so goes their essence back to the stars, ready to again run the race into each other's arms, footing surer with each pass through the cosmos.

They've done it time and time again, stardust and atoms cut from the same cloth.

He knew he would always end up home with her.

And they'd find us in a week

When the cattle show fear

After the insects have made their claim

After the foxes have known our taste

I'd be home with you

I won't lie I've been shit at keeping track of the everything tag list so I'll just tag who I think might like it 😬😬😬:

@pedgeitopascal @mylostloversbookmarks @atinylittlepain @ladamedusoif @avastrasposts @ssuperficialspacecadett @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @iamasaddie @jksprincess10

[zyrafowe-sny]

is the cop or am I the one that's really dangerous

Ambrosius says, "Because I love you," and Ballister's (aching, concussed) brain tries to comprehend love without trust, love with reservation, love that takes the twisted words of others over the bone-deep knowledge that comes from a shared life.

"Just promise to think about it, Bal. She's dangerous." Ambrosius retrieves the fallen sword and scroll and shoves them in his hands.

This time Ballister keeps them — putting his sword on his belt on auto-pilot — but that doesn't stop him from running off.

(And his newfound friendship with Nimona doesn't stop him from at least considering the words of his oldest friend and the man he can't help but love despite it all.)

He knows she couldn't possibly have orchestrated the assassination. She would have needed a second shapeshifter to pretend to be the Director to fake that confession — or split herself in two somehow — and either option seems both unlikely and altogether a far too complicated plan for little miss "something something we win".

Unless that was all a ruse to throw him off and she's actually a tactical genius.

He thinks of her delight in chaos and destruction. He thinks of how many knights she's injured (killed? modern armor is strong but not invulnerable). He thinks of all the innocent bystanders she put in harm's way. And that girl in the monster in the scroll looks uncannily like the girl he grabbed from atop a stolen motorhorse.

Could Nimona really be Gloreth's monster? Could she have destroyed their city when it was in its infancy? Did she want to burn it to the ground again? Is she capable of sowing (false) distrust to make the Kingdom harder to defend when she makes her big move? Did she identify him as the weak link in the Institute that would bring it all down?

(Maybe he's questioning everything now, but her loneliness seems real. He can believe she wants an ally, someone to talk to, someone to fight with, even if she always just planned on using him.)

Ballister's still lost when he finds himself back at the tower.

Nimona's sleeping so peacefully — especially compared to her earlier nightmares — but he hardens his heart as she wakes.

He wants answers.

She doesn't really give them.

All his darkest doubts spill out.

Ballister never does manage to say the m-word, but his actions speak louder than his tongue ever could. He sees her glowing eyes and hears the sound of his sword leaving its sheath. His own eyes dart between Nimona and his hands, and he can't believe what he was about to do to the frightened girl in front of him.

As Nimona would say, he was brainwashed good.

And apparently he's also an enormous hypocrite. (Maybe he judged Ambrosius a little too harshly for not believing he was innocent. Or maybe they both have much to learn about love and trust and who the monsters really are.)

"I-"

He fully intends to apologize for being small-minded (again), for clinging to a thousand year old story instead of trusting the (possibly thousand year old) teenager actually in front of him, but then there are voices outside before he can even start to find the right words.

He doesn't know how Todd found his hideout — was he followed from the city? — but that doesn't matter. To his relief, Nimona disappears in a shimmer of light and escapes before the knight notices. (Maybe someday they'll meet again and he'll be able to make up for his betrayal, but following her now will just put her in more danger.)

The beating feels like a fitting punishment. He just hopes he can stay conscious long enough that she'll be long gone before they think to continue the search. With any luck, she'll find some peace far away from this cursed kingdom.

But then the world shakes and he sees the birds fly away as shadows loom. And he knows the hurt is too strong and too deep and too old for her to just make a clean break, a fresh start.

It doesn't take long for him to recognize a death march.

He knew she had suicidal thoughts. He knew it and still he questioned her motivations and their friendship and her personhood. He knew it and pressed just the right buttons that would hurt her the most.

Maybe Gloreth's statue will drive the physical blow, but he's the one sticking a sword through Nimona's heart because she's different.

Unless he can get there in time.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, reblogging, or hopping over to AO3 to leave a kudo or comment.

[fantasyandromancelover]

The Demon of Notre Dame

This is just something I wrote for amusement.

In France, two orphans Heinrich and Etienne were raised in the church of Notre Dame and training to become clergy men, though their guardian is very prejudice and unforgiving, they choose to be kind and open-minded with their beliefs. One day Heinrich meets Marie, a beautiful gypsy of Moorish descent who is homeless and offers her shelter in the church despite her dark sin. Both Heinrich and Etienne are instantly smitten with Marie and the three strike up a friendship. Over the years Marie comes to care deeply for both men but ultimately falls in love with Etienne but Heinrich feels entitled to have Marie since he found her. One night Heinrich follows the couple to a secret meeting and watches them make love. In a jealous rage, he stabs Etienne to death, though he's horrified by what he's done, he convinced himself and everyone else that he did it to save Marie from "getting raped" but Marie knows better. She leaves the cathedral.

A year later, Heinrich has now become a minister of justice and one night when a gypsy steals food, he and his men chase him back to his camp. He arrests everyone there even though the others are innocent, and discovers Marie living among them with a baby son she had unknowingly conceived with Etienne before he died. Still harboring feelings for her, he offers to spare her from prison if she accepts being with him. Marie rejects him and runs to the cathedral with her baby, Heinrich chases her. She reaches Notre Dame but the doors are locked and by the time the archdeacon  hears her pleas for sanctuary he is too late. Heinrich catches up to Marie and in blind rage beats her to death though her child is saved due to his mother sheltering him from the attack. Again Heinrich is horrified by his murderous actions but again he convinces himself that his victim was the one at fault, creating the delusion that she had bewitched him. Though when the archdeacon arrives and finds her body, he lies and says that she committed suicide. Still he feels the need to repent and he decides to do it by raising Etienne and Marie's child as his own.

The boy is named Alastor and Heinrich keeps him isolated in the bell tower of Notre Dame because he was born with a frighteningly, deformed appearance. Yet despite being "deformed" Alastor is stronger, smarter, and more talented than most men. Inheriting his father's athleticism and intellect and his mother's charm and musical gifts. Heinrich does try to be a good guardian to Alastor but can't get past the fact that he's the son of the "rapist" and the "witch" who "drove him to sin". So he mostly leaves him alone in the shadows and as the years pass he grows to become more self-righteous, prejudice, and misogynistic, and begins to secretly practice alchemy in the church which is forbidden. However young Alastor eventually becomes so lonely and desperate for a friend that he swipes some of Heinrich's alchemy tools and uses them to bring to life three imp statues that were constructed on the church, Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie, who serve as his only friends, only moving in front of him.

Though Alastor tries to keep a smile on his face, he grows up depressed due to being kept solitary behind stone walls and forbidden by Heinrich to ever leave Notre Dame. Also lying to him that he's a monster so horrible that his father abandoned him and that his mother killed herself unable to comprehend that she had birthed such an atrocity. He finds entertainment and joy only from ringing the church bells and from watching the annual festival known as the Feast of Fools. When the festival takes place on his twentieth year, he decides that just watching a spectacle is boring and that he's been cooped up long enough. With encouragement from Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie, he sneaks out to attend the fair.

At the same time, Anthony, a soldier is summoned to serve as the new captain of the guards and on his way to the Palace of Justice he spots Vagatha, an attractive and streetwise Romani gypsy dancing in the square and is immediately smitten. However Vagatha is distrustful of soldiers and members of the church due to a history of herself and her people being mistreated by individuals of each group, though she is grateful when Anthony defends her from getting harassed by some bigoted men.

The festival begins, led by Husk a gypsy magician, who secretly uses his skills in illusion and entertainment to run a pick-pocket scam and this year he proposes that his fellow gypsies have the Pope of Fools be chosen based on the scariest face in town, and once all the customers are distracted, they can rob them blind. However Vagatha, one of his wards, disapproves of stealing and pleads with Husk to put a stop to it as it only confirms what other people say about them. But Husk only dismisses her pleas, claiming it's survival of the fittest.

When Alastor arrives at the festival, he tries his best to avoid being noticed, which leads to him tripping and accidentally falling into the tent of Husk's other ward. Charlotte, a beautiful and innocent gypsy of French descent. Alastor tries to hide his face but she sees it anyway but much to his relief and surprise, she is not frightened and is more concerned by if he's hurt by the fall. He assures her that he's not and she kindly asks him to leave her tent so she can change but not before giving him a ticket for a front row seat to her performance. Heinrich and Anthony also attend the festival and are present when Husk, Vagatha, and the gypsies perform on stage with magic, juggling, and other tricks. Suddenly Charlotte appears and dances gracefully, entrancing all the men with her beauty, particularly Alastor and Heinrich. She then pulls Alastor on stage for the Pope of Fools contest, thinking that his horrific face is a mask but is self-mortified upon learning that she was mistaken.

The crowd is frightened of Alastor at first but Husk turns their fright into cheer by declaring Alastor the winner. For a moment all is well, but then the soldiers turn things around by throwing insults and stones at him, humiliating him. This enrages Aalstor who attempts to defend himself but the crowd thinks he's attacking without reason, so they tie him down to a stockade and began whipping him. Both Anthony and Vagatha want to stop this cruelty but Heinrich orders Anthony not to, in order to punish Alastor for sneaking out while Vagatha is held back by Husk who doesn't want her to get into trouble. But Charlotte cannot bear it any longer. She runs on to the stockade and throws herself on to his body to shield him from the lash. The whippings stop, Charlotte cuts Alastor loose and gives him water. This act of kindness captures his heart.

Vagatha and Husk then take Charlotte away before trouble arises and Heinrich finally allows Anthony to escort Alastor back into the church but not before viciously scolding him. Later that night, Charlotte cannot stop worrying about Alastor and blames herself for what happened to him, so she sneaks out of camp and into Notre Dame to see if he's alright. Unable to find Alastor, Charlotte sings a prayer that God will bless him and take care of him always. Her beautiful voice lures Alastor down from the tower and he spies on her, touched up on hearing her prayers for him. Suddenly he trips and catches her attention. He runs and tries to hide from her but the imps expose him. At first Alastor keeps trying to hide his face from her but she eventually convinces him that she doesn't find him ugly at all. They quickly become friends and bond over their shared love of music and performing, and the fact that they're both orphans. Charlotte tells him about how her parents died from the plague and how Vagatha and the gypsies took her in when no one else would. He in turn reveals to her his belief that his father deserted him and his mother killed herself because he’s a monster. Charlotte then reads his palm and looks up into his eyes, telling him with a smile that he's not a monster. Alastor falls deeper in love with her.

When Vagatha finds Charlotte's note explaining where she went, she quickly goes to the cathedral to get her. Anthony spots her and follows her, inside they argue whcih leads to them bonding over their shared pasts of hardship with Anthony having fought in war and Vagatha having to constantly face prejudice and bigotry. They are interrupted by Heinrich who demands that Vagatha leave, insisting that her kind only corrupts people and tempt them into sin. Vagatha stands up to Heinrich, calling him out for his mistreatment toward her people and calling him a hypocrite and a fraud which enrages him. He tries to strike her but again Anthony defends her and quickly escorts her out of the church, warning her not to fight unwinnable battles, to which she retorts that she cannot help it.

Later Alastor takes Charlotte on an outside tour of the cathedral, using his acrobatic skills to scale up and down the walls while carrying her. At first she's frightened but soon becomes amazed by the incredible views of Paris and finds herself feeling safe with Alastor. The moment is then ruined by Heinrich finding them and angrily yelling at Alastor for apparently trying to leave again and sends him back to the bell tower. He reluctantly goes but not before Charlotte bids him goodbye with a kiss on his cheek. Heinrich has now developed feelings of desire for Charlotte and he approaches her cordially, offering her shelter so he may save her soul, but she rejects his offer, saying that she sees the way he looks at her.

This infuriates Heinrich and he threatens to have Charlotte arrested if she ever sets foot in Notre Dame again. Later he tells Alastor that Charlotte is a dangerous person sent from Hell and that she is only trying to drag him into damnation even though he now lusts for her himself. The imps try to convince Alastor that not everything Heinrich does is right and they express their doubts about if he really cares for him, but he refuses to listen. Reminding them that he did raise him when his own parents refused to do it.

One night Anthony goes to a tavern where Husk, Charlotte, Vagatha, and multiple other gypsies are partying. While the other gypsies see any solider as a threat and refuse to include him, Charlotte invites him to dance with her and Vagatha. The three of them have the time of their life and Vagatha becomes so fond of Anthony that she kisses him. Charlotte watches them and can tell that they're falling for each other, she then wonders if she will ever be so lucky to find love even in these times of great hardship.  Meanwhile, in the bell tower, Alastor reflects on seeing couples in love from his tower and how he never thought himself worthy of love until meeting Charlotte.

That same night Heinrich's lust for Charlotte drives him mad and he convinces himself that she's a witch just like Marie was but that she's also his second chance at having what was denied him all those years ago. He vows to condemn her or take her as his own. The next day, he approaches King Louis XI asking for special powers to stop a 'gypsy witch' to protect Paris, which he is granted. With his new powers, he instigates a citywide manhunt for Charlotte, setting fire to houses which repulses Anthony. He finally has enough and defies his order to burn a mill that was rumored to hide gypsies. As Heinrich orders Antony's arrest, Vagatha appears to aid him, a fight breaks loose. Amidst the commotion, Heinrich stabs Anthony and frames Vagatha for it, she uses a magic trick to escape. Still Heinrich continues the hunt, while Alastor grows increasingly worried about Charlotte's whereabouts.

Vagatha brings the unconscious Anthony to Charlotte for help and she suggests hiding him at Notre Dame. Alastor agrees to look after him and almost tells Charlotte how he feels about her but backs out when he becomes scared of her rejection. She gives him a woven band and leaves with Vagatha. Heinrich arrives shortly after, Alastor hides Anthony from him. Heinrich quickly deduces that Alastor is in love with Charlotte and lashes out at him in jealousy but then calms down when he figures that he can use this to his advantage. Before leaving, he tells Alastor that he knows where the gypsy hideout "The Court of Miracles" is and that he intends to attack at dawn.

Anthony having awakened and overheard the conversation, suggests that he and Alastor go warn the gypsies. They decipher the woven band Charlotte gave Alastor as a map and they use it to find the court of miracles. Initially, thinking them to be spies, the Husk and the gypsies attempt to kill the two, but they are saved by Charlotte and Vagatha. Alastor and Anthony tell the gypsies about the attack and they all quickly prepare to leave. Anthony asks Vagatha to go with her, the two expressing their love for each other. Alastor looks on them all heartbroken, believing that there's no place for him out there in the world and that he'll never see Charlotte again. Charlotte however finds that she can't leave him and fears that he will soon die under Heinrich's abuse, she then realizes that she loves Alastor and decides to stay with him despite protest from Vagatha and Husk. She goes to confess her feelings to him but Heinrich and the soldiers suddenly enter, having followed Alastor, and arrests all present.

Heinrich has the guards lock Alastor in the bell tower and imprisons Anthony, Vagatha, and Charlotte on the false crimes of treason, stabbing a military officer, and witchcraft. He then visits Charlotte in her cell, telling her that he can save her if she will live with him as his mistress. When she refuses, he attempts to rape her but halts when she cries out in protest and leaves her to think on his offer. Feeling that all hope is lost, she makes one final prayer to God as Vagatha and Anthony yearn for a better future together. Meanwhile in the bell tower, the imps try to encourage Alastor free himself and save Charlotte but he angrily denounces them, declaring that he will remain stoic until he dies. Seeing that he's lost all will to fight, the imps can only leave him to his fate.

At dawn, Charlotte is tied to a pyre outside Notre Dame. Heinrich sentences her to death, offering her one last chance to save herself, which she angrily rejects. He lights the pyre and she faints. Unable to watch her suffer, Alastor breaks free, swings down on a rope from the bell tower, and takes Charlotte back to Notre Dame, invoking Notre Dame's status as a sanctuary in an appeal for protection. Heinrich orders that the church be taken by force but Husk uses his pick-pocket skills to swipe the keys and free all the other prisoners, after which Vagatha and Anthony rally the people of Paris to fight against the guards while Alastor and the imps dump the molten lead used for fixing the bells onto the guards to stop them.

When all appears safe, Alastor goes to check on Charlotte only to find her unresponsive to him. Believing her dead, the trauma triggers a flashback to the night he saw his mother die. Devastated, Alastor realizes that Heinrich has destroyed everyone who ever loved him and cries while holding Charlotte’s body. Heinrich enters and asks Alastor if Charlotte is dead, which he broken-heartedly confirms. Relieved, Heinrich tells Alastor that they are finally free of her poison. But Alastor is furious and calls him out on his evil behavior, he retorts that it was "her choice" and he "could have helped her" and "loved her." Alastor then asks bitterly,

“Like you loved my mother?!”

Heinrich panics and attempts to mislead him again but Alastor refuses to hear anymore of his lies. He prepares to kill Heinrich but stops when Charlotte awakens, alive and well, and Alastor rushes to her side, thrilled that she is okay. They embrace and kiss, the sight of it reminds Heinrich of Etienne and Marie, and his jealousy and pride finally causes him to lose all his sanity. He draws his sword and chases them onto a balcony overlooking the city, slashing at them with his sword with Alastor unable to fight back due to protecting Charlotte. In his rage, Heinrich admits that he killed both his parents because they were evil and declares that shall he now kill him as he should have done twenty years ago because he's nothing but a demon.

During the scuffle, Alastor ends up dangling from the cathedral, Heinrich raises his sword to strike him but Charlotte knocks out the evil man and desperately tries to pull Alastor back up, risking her falling with him. He's too heavy but the imps lend her their help and she successfully saves him. Heinrich quickly regains consciousness and makes one last attempt to kill the couple only for Alastor to throw him over the edge of the cathedral.

The two then reunite with Vagatha and Anthony, and the three lead Alastor into the square, when the crowd sees him, he almost flees but then Husk steps forward, paints deformities on his face, and twists his body to show that he is like him and the rest of the crowd follows suit, accepting Alastor. They cheer for him and Paris' liberation from Heinrich's tyranny, and Alastor and Charlotte finally proclaim their love for each other, as Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie look on in approval.

[presiding]

just saw that there's a monster in the hull update and realized i'd missed three of those........this + the audio are such treats giggling and kicking my feet about it fr. going to leave a comment on the fic itself but in the meantime needed to drop a letter on here to say i love the way you write billie--her loneliness, her thoughtfulness, distrust of yet attraction to emily and everything she represents........not to mention the way she's haunted by daud, the longing for a life she can't fathom and will never have !!! society if everyone gave billie the complexity she deserves. and your banter and prose are stunning as always lord everything abt this fic is so good. bringing wine to you on the deck to drink together about it in spirit and yes pun intended

🙏😭 thank you so so much I don't know what to say! that's amazingly kind of you ♥ its a genuine pleasure to like. double down on themes and nuance and less popular characters and just like. idk. trustfall into the fandom that there's people with taste like you, and you can invite them onto your metaphorical deck for wine and meaningful looks 🍷♥♥♥

re: billie - no one else in the dh universe comes close to whatever she has going on

hiding my thoughts about writing dh2 billie >

there's so much material to her!

i thought i'd never write for dishonored 2 (not derogatory - its my favourite game). its undoubtedly linear & doesn't have the mystery or grit of dh1 IMO.

but i saw lapin post that billie & emily comic, and i saw a few other people i respect mention billie/emily and it had me rotating them until the abjection/emily-monster thing clicked and then it was downhill from there

but there's more to think about - what billie has been doing with herself, how she feels about daud & the whalers at this point in her life, her relationship with sokolov (god.a separate rant), her history in karnaca & dunwall, emily's place in the empire and how that fits into billie's story, her lifelong revenge arc, and comparisons between jessamine & deirdre.

like. when you consider billie's perspective you realise how fucking badass she is for going back to dunwall. she not only did it scared she did it scared for her life. suicidal level flimsy disguise trapped in a tin can with your enemy. etc

PLEASE tell me if you ever decide to post that daud & billie fic you mentioned a while back :O

[katyspersonal]

Soulsborne bingo about Lady Maria!😎

Ohhhh yeah, her!!

I have written plenty of headcanons on her so far, and she was one of the first Bloodborne characters I got invested in - and one of the first characters I've drawn! She is amongst my most elaborate Bloodborne portrayals in terms of headcanons, analysis and story! Fun fact - she is also my second most posted character, after Mico! Not to mention her frequient appearance in my dreams, too? Again, it is a little... odd, how I do not express all that much passion about her, despite having a VERY elaborate map of her in my head. Do you know how sometimes you really care about the character, but for some reason you need an extra stimul to actually bring up your thoughts and feelings? I am like this about her. Unassuming externally, but having a lot of things to say internally! I also would like to link some headcanons about her that I've written for another ask meme for her: ( x ).

Her design is really good, I love everything about it! Her face is so beautiful, and is more unique than you might assume! Her hair is not regular blonde but that paler, 'ashy' color, her eyes are not blue but mint green, her eyebrows are WHITE (Pthumerian blood much? :p) and the circles under her eyes (again - Pthumerian blood much??). And her eyelashes are very notably pale, too:

When I draw her, I always get stuck just looking at her. And her hunter outfit is really great variant of the Knight clothes! Her wearing normal fancy Knight outfit, full of red and gemstones would just not feel the same. More modest yet more elegant look is PERFECT.

There is a lot going on about this character, too. I obsess over the fact that she could not bear the heartbreak after Fishing Hamlet and discarded the hunt as a concept, instead opting out for being a caretaker for the patients. And how she parallels Djura who also quit the hunt! But Djura survived for such a long time, comfortable in his purpose, yet Maria gave up and killed herself. I mean, there is a merit in the cut content idea that Simon ended her life in reality, but I think her suicide works better. (And how much you want to bet it was Adeline's death that was the last straw for Maria?..) She is a knight that was willing to help the humanity and protect it, but ended up losing her own, which is a tragedy consistent for Bloodborne it seems.

I also feel like she did have some weakness, meekness even, to her personality in the end, which is why despite having abandoned her clan and distasting blood she was powerless to protect Adeline from falling into their questionable antics. And chose passive role of caretaker for Church's (questionable!!!) business and keep their secret, despite having regretted ever taking part in the massacre. And could not go on, unlike Djura. She is a strong and stoic person, indeed, and a very skilled warrior, but also there is just... something. You know? She will kill a scary monster without problem, but when it comes to putting up a fight of the character, like resisting an intimidating authority - I feel she can't do that. Not even to protect someone dear, like Adeline. That, or Laurence sucks in people's courage like a black hole, wouldn't put it past the bastard either She will act very decisively in life and death situation on the battlefield, but will be an absolute coward about confessing her feelings or something...? Like unrealised trauma that has been a 'crack' in her soul. But she still would rise up despite it to do what she believed was right. It feels like doing sport despite a physical trauma that might betray you any time, but mentally so.

Alright, you see what I mean? Any attempt to discuss Maria's personality makes me dive into one of the corners of her character. And she has several! I think if I was to write a devoted character analysis for her that is not spread across several posts, it would actually take a few days to put together!

We also can only be sure about her dynamics with Adeline and Gehrman, but there is otherwise a lot of potential for her knowing other characters, too! I love what we got, however! A lot to speculate on, both have good fundament for very elaborate story!

________________

In general, I love her character. You are not from the Western fandom but you will find that some fans will simplify her very unpleasantly. On the one hand, some drooling horny dudes that simply see her as a sexy female knight (that needs a makeover as if she is not attractive enough already...? wtf...). On the other hand, toxic adult babies that think her whole character will crumble and lose appeal if she likes not only women but men too, or if she has not only masculine sides to her character, but feminine ones too. I say, whatever character trait you pick on about her, she is always more than that. Exploring her beyond just being a badass, powerful, skilled hunter expands and complicates her character, but some people will call it "reducing" her because for them being strong and being "feminine" (?) are mutually exclusive traits for some reason. I'd also make a point that the fact she not only discarded the hunt, but her becoming a hunter again as a punishment in literal Hell is a BIG evidence against 'her TRUE self is a mean murderous warrior and Gehrman disrespected it' flex. But you already understand by now that in Western fandoms, based fans are in the trenches every day xD

All in all, Maria is probably the most interesting character in Bloodborne that can offer a lot to think about for everyone. There are always many ways to interpret her none of which is "absolute" and none of which "robs" any demographic off anything. This is what happens when a character is written like a person, and not like a 'statement'! ...and I say all this when she barely has any dialogue, and we as lore people are left to grasp at item descriptions, nonverbal narrative, actions of other characters, Dolls look in relation with Gehrman having feelings so warm it made Doll cry tears of joy, Doll wearing Maria's ribbon shoes and pendant, cut content, their spiritual connection, Cainhurst context......

Thank you for the ask!

[possessionisamyth]

not gonna lie felt bad for Dylan in DI for a short time however it turned into boo fucking hoo very quick

it was so why not focus on Maria? why not focus on Jill (it makes no sense Jill charging in recklessly at the start Leon turns up and she lets him take charge)

can't wait to rewatch it whenever that maybe (got the dvd wrong region code of fucking course and i don't know how to make dvd do it)

Okay. After watching the movie several times, I definitely feel more equipped to answer this question (which I own the blu-ray of but am watching totally legally online in another place when I don't want to set up the dvd/blu-ray player).

When Death Island dropped, and everyone was throbbing over Leon, I was annoyed by many of the missed opportunities to make the movie entertaining in order to focus on "realism" like they have been with the remakes and with Inifinite Darkness. Yet, the biggest dropping of the ball was with Jill Valentine, and we gotta talk about Jill so that we can talk about why Dylan sucks ass fails as a character foil to her. However, let's do a little definition first so we're on the same page.

The narrative purpose of a character foil is that when these two characters are on screen interacting with each other, their differences become highlighted. You got Romeo and Mercutio, Betty and Veronica, Chris and Wesker, these characters are foils that we can easily recognize without putting any real thought behind it. We can clock their motivations and the patterns they execute to reach their goals and see where all those little funky lines cross. They can be friends, antagonists, or enemies, but their purpose is to bring out the other characters good and bad traits to deepen our understanding of them.

Jill Valentine is a character that is an active player. She doesn't let things passively happen to her. She gets shit done. She's very hands on about everything. We see it in Resident Evil 1 where you play as her route, and if you play Chris' route the only thing holding this woman back is the cell Wesker trapped her in wherein she has no tools to utilize whatsoever. We see it in Resident Evil 3 where Carlos often takes a backseat to Jill pushing the narrative forward until she's infected and needs help only to pick up where she leaves off as soon as she gets that cure. We see it in the Lost in Nightmares DLC where she's keeping pace with another active character, Chris, and ends the fight by sacrificing herself. In Resident Evil 5 where she's just been saved from mind control, she's actively yelling and shoving at Chris to leave her and save the world when Chris doesn't want to after getting her back. We see it in all of Revelations 1 in juxtaposition to Chris' route. Jill is our Ripley in Alien , she is our Sarah Conner in Terminator, and so on.

Dylan Blake is a passive character. Death Island showcased this to us much more heavy handed than they needed to, but we got the picture. He accepts orders to evacuate important people and kill civilians warily but with no real fight behind it. He cried out on the ground when his friend killed the rest of their infected teammates after failing to wrestle the gun away. Doesn't get up and try again. He's active in saving himself after his friend got infected, but that's it. He hires people to kidnap a guy to build robots for him. It's heavily implied the virus in the bots is one of Glenn Arias' weapons meaning he didn't even make the damn thing. He doesn't commit to suicide and hasn't for 17 years because Russian Roulette absolves him of any fault when he fails. (Something they stole from the movie Bullet Train btw.) He could've shot Claire to teach Jill a lesson, but that decision would be too active for his character. He talks about cleaning the slate with no plans to stick around to see if the slate gets cleaned. Even as a giant bloody poopoo monster he's just swinging his body around listlessly until things break. Unlike every other antagonist or villain we've had up to this point, Dylan is the most hands off when it comes to this schtick. He is the guy that says "I'm going to do this thing, but whatever happens next is out of my hands" as if he's not responsible for glassware breaking after snatching away the tablecloth.

On a surface level, you'd think after both of them went through Raccoon City that Jill and Dylan are perfect foils of each other. Which they would be if Jill wasn't immediately shuffled into the passive role herself as soon as Leon came on screen. Examples of this? Well, we can watch the movie together, and I'll point them out scene by scene, but for the sake of answering your question here I'll try and bullet point them. Of which I will also be listing things people have already complained about because they all take place in Alcatraz.

-Why does Jill keeps losing/not using her gun?

-Jill struggles with zombies the same as others despite enhanced strength and non-existent aging from the virus.

-Jill struggles with lickers.

-Jill doesn't shoot Dylan during his monologue.

-Jill doesn't shoot or fight Maria during Dylan's monologue.

-Jill doesn't shoot Dylan during his second monologue before he kills himself despite seeing the gun he holds that injects viruses.

-Jill is responsible for hand flare to get Dylan's attention, not driving the car or giving her the big gun. She has to yell at him when his mind is basically not even there anymore.

-Jill has the bag of bombs that is supposed to off him and drops it after setting off one under water.

"But Jill is fighting in those scenes." Yeah, but Leon has to save her ass by giving her a gun. Leon has to kill all the lickers. Leon has to info dump about Alcatraz, a place the BSAA should've collected intel on like they always do before missions. A place Jill would've researched herself if she were allowed to be herself. Leon had to give her the opportunity to run from Maria. Jill just yells at Dylan for most of his nonsense even when he loses and is trying to run away as a giant bloodied poopoo monster. Is this the behavior of an active character after we see her at the start go into that house by herself to look for civilians, and later deny Chris his friendship speech in the shooting range? Is this highlighting her normally active traits against Dylan, a person who just lets things happen around him? Short answer: No. Long answer: Hell fucking no. If Jill is not doing the same thing as everyone else in the scene, her actions are reduced to passiveness matching Dylan's and not contrasting them! They don't even put Dylan into more active positions when Jill is made passive, so what the fuck is the point of this guy?! We hate him. That wasn't hard to do. Where's the rest of it? Where is the rest-?!?!?!

Listen, I'm not saying Jill needed to shoot Claire to inhibit her and possibly buy the scientist more alive time, but I am saying Jill needed to be firing at someone because it's not like Dylan would've handed her the cure if she kept him alive. Plus, Rebecca was already making a cure. So-?!?!? It's not like Dylan wouldn't have snapped his fingers sooner to make Maria act had Jill first gotten a good shot in his kneecap. If we want to highlight anything, why isn't Jill's brash actions leading to screw ups in contrast to Dylan's passive actions showing how he's winning and thus strengthening his spiel about all of them being pawns? I'm not expecting the world from a CGI Resident Evil movie. I know the quality to expect, but we have done better before this. I was more satisfied with Rebecca doing her smart thing in Vendetta despite the weird wedding dress scene of her on the table. I was more satisfied with Ada doing her spy thing in Damnation. I was more satisfied with Claire doing her thing in the first 20 minutes of Degeneration. But Death Island? For Jill? As a summation?

Jill Valentine has been used and abused by Wesker. She's been away from the BSAA for 6 years. She's been tossed aside by Capcom game wise. And in what's supposed to be the movie about her getting back on her feet, she gets sidelined because the director and writer were too busy furiously jerking off Leon Scott Kennedy to give her more than the bare minimum script wise in order to "achieve this goal". They didn't achieve the goal by the way. The little fist bump between Chris and Jill was not fucking earned in the slightest.

However if you truly want to know how dirty they did her overall, I can show you by simply comparing her famous rail gun scene depiction. In the original Resident Evil 3, the rail gun was a gigantic machine no one could lift unless they were a giant. For the Resident Evil 3 Remake, they changed it to something she can lift. In Death Island, they decided to do a callback to that rail gun from the Resident Evil 3 Remake as it's her pivotal final fight against Nemesis. They had her turn this iconic weapon, her iconic weapon, against Dylan.

Now anon, look at this big ass rail gun she gets in the Resident Evil 3 Remake where she barely flinches with the recoil. This is 1998. She is not buffed up by the T-Virus. It's a strap metaphor. This gun is two Jill's long, it's heavy as shit, and the camera angles tell us how hefty it is when we play the game.

Now, look at this fucking peashooter they have her struggling to heft around in Death Island. This is shorter than her. You could argue that because it relies on a generator and is portable, it's made of a heavier metal than the one on the charger in the Remake. It's still bullshit that she gets thrown back by the recoil considering she's buffed up from that T-Virus that doesn't let her age compared to how little she struggled with a bigger gun with a stronger recoil in the Remake.

Things that would've fixed this movie? Stop giving Leon all the lines. Make Jill the one that has clever thinking with the gasoline in exchange for Leon finding their exit out of the tunnels. Make Jill fight Maria during Dylan's monologue to emphasize that she's wasting time while her friend's are dying, thus making her take action role look futile compared to Dylan's passivity OR at least have her try to shoot and it fails by her gun jamming. Give Jill her gun back with one bullet in it after Maria wins the fight to then try and make her choose to kill Claire. Let her fire it once at someone and it do nothing. Liven up that Russian Roulette motif. Let the running away be her choice, not something Leon has to give her the opportunity to take. Let Jill have one flashback to any other fucking game which highlights how her usual method of decision making led her to failure before the Dylan showdown. Let her shoot Dylan as he shoots himself reiterating the foil contrast before the last big fight. Cut Leon and Chris' quirky little dialogue so Jill can have several more lines that would make the final shout at Dylan more hard hitting.

As for Maria, when we roll back that footage in Vendetta, she should've been beating the shit out of Chris in Death Island for killing Diego. It could've made the movie better with any of my changes of Jill VS Dylan by adding Chris VS Maria since Chris and Jill always do everything together.

[helpesslywriting]

Penelope had cried herself out, day after day. A month and a half passed since the day Priest Ackerman had come to her door and offered her comfort. People had come by, and left meals or drinks at the back door, not wanting to draw attention by going to the front.

"The poor girls had enough negative attention as it is." Her friend Locke had scolded an onlooker who was staring blatantly at her darkened home. "She doesn't need you wraiths hanging out, eyeballing her like some sort of void monster." She waved them away with the towel she kept slung over her shoulder and glared at them until they left the street, glancing back at her with a more than displeased expression.

When Locke appraoched the door, she was shocked to find it slightly ajar and movement from isnide. She picked up the bottle of juice she had been meaning to bring over and hold it over her head like a club and pushed the door open to see Penelope storming across the room.

"Gods!" Locke snap as she jumped in fright at the sight of her friend when she whirled around and brandished a butcher knife at her. "It's just you, you scared me!" She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "What in the world are you doing?"

"Packing." Penelope said simply and went back to storming across the room toward the table where a large bag laid open and several items lay organized and ready to be put inside.

A change of clothes, dried foods, paper, pencils, a water skin, a hat, a shawl. Then the butcher knife was laid down next to a pair of socks. "Packing for what?!" Locke demanded as she began piecing together the items on the table with what was going on. "Are you running away?"

"No." Penelope stopped, eyes darting along the items on the table. "Maybe, if I find a place I like living better than here."

"You're insane!" Locke hissed as she put the bottle down on the table and braced herself at the tables end, leaning on her palms. "You know whats out there!"

"Void monsters, I know." Penelope picked up the butcher knife again, as if this would explain everything. "I can't just keep staying here, staying cooped up, hoping everyone will forget what he did and staring at me like I've grown extra limbs I dont need. Or with pity like I'm a sick animal in need of help." The auburn haired girl huffed and shook her head. "I'm tired of it. I want to go somewhere, I want to be outside again!"

"Then come with me," Locke pleaded as her friend went to dig around in a drawer across the room in a chest of drawers. "We can go on a walk, somewhere safe away from everyone."

"No, I don't want to go somewhere I've been--" She trailed off before shaking her head again hard and pulling out a leather flap that contained flint and some steel to light fires with. "I want to go somewhere new." She whirled around and pointed at her friend, whose mouth was already open. "By myself."

"That's practically suicide!" Locke argued as Penelope made her way back to the kitchen area and started stuffing the bag with her bigger supplies. "Have you thought this through?" She saw her friends brow furrow as she kept stuffing her bag. "Who will protect you? You don't have any training in self defense? There wont be any iron protectors to keep you safe in the wild!"

"I know," She stomped away to the counters to grab a second, smaller bag that was stuffed with other dried foods and a second water skin. "But I'm too hurt and angry to just roll over and die, Locke. I've gotta do something. Being here, in this town, having to see everyones faces is just too much....Who knows. Maybe I'll find another village nearby and just do a vacation. Or, I could get out and see some things and then come home. I don't know what I'll do but I have to do something."

She hauled the other bag over to the kitchen table and sighed, "Being here, it's like a festering sore. I'm not an idiot. I know people are gossiping about me. I know his parents have come by and tried to talk to me. They want to apologize. But I just don't have it in me to forgive them and it's hurting me even more to know that I won't if I keep feeling like this." She looked up and locked eyes with her friend. "I want to get better and I think some time away to myself will help remind me that Tav truly isn't the world. That there's a whole world out there and no one has the ability to stop me from doing what I want." She gripped the bag tightly, an overly familiar pain in her throat. That's all she could manage anymore. Tears had stopped forming weeks ago.

"if you need something new, why not try learning at the Temple? Or blacksmithing or something that was interesting before?" Locke was the one crying now. Tears falling from her hazel eyes and wetting her brown dress. "I'm worried sick that once you leave the village I won't see you again."

"I wouldn't disappear completely, if I found a new village or a life for myself." Penelope put down the bag and walked around the table to embrace her friend warmly. "I would come back to let you know, how else would you get to come visit me?" She felt her friend hug her tightly and cry softly for a moment before she let go and wiped her eyes.

"I know there's no changing your mind, not now." She waved her hands in front of her face to help dry her cheeks. "You're already mostly packed....so..." She put her hands on her hips and sighed heavily. Just when Penelope thought Locke was going to argue, she nodded. "What else do you need?"

//

Penelope adjusted her bag on her back and the one on her hip before she looked back at Locke, her pairing Keaye and Ackerman. They had walked her to the edge of the village, where the fields and the dirt paths ended and the wilderness began. In the distance, Penelope would make out the forms of a few Iron Protectors moving slowly while on patrol. Glimpses between the trees at their long mechanical arms swaying with the slow hobble of a walk.

"You always have a home here." Ackerman said as he put his hands together in prayer and dipped his head.

"You better not die." Locke warned and gave her one last hug around the neck. "I mean it."

"I heard you the last ten times." Penelope laughed and hugged her friend back. A small cold tingle tickled the back of her neck, a prick of fear of leaving the well known area. The excitement made her stomach tremble in anticipation of the unknown.

She pulled back and turned on her heel, if she stood waiting around for them to leave first, she would never start. Her resolve would buckle. She couldn't allow herself the opportunity to back out. Not when doing this made so much sense.

She could hear them calling out well wishes, prayers and demands to come back. As she walked, she raised her clenched fist in response, a false facade that she was unafraid. In truth, once she was out of sight of the iron protectors, even though the plains rolled gently and nothing could be seen for miles, she was scared.

Daylight was safe. Relatively. Accidents sometimes happen, like with her parents. A fire at the library had trapped them, and they lost their lives when she was just a teenager. There were also wolves, spiders, other beings that wanted to do her harm.

She knew she could handle travel during the day. She was cautious, and knew to be wary of cliffs and random holes. But it was the night she was truly afraid of.

No one knew the true reason why, and who you asked got you a different answer. What was the source of the void monsters? An inky blackness that seemed to spawn monsters that took on the form of nightmares. Moving skeletons, zombies, and scaley four legged creatures known simply as "creepers".

At night, when the sun had dipped low enough behind distant mountains, the void would begin to produce its beasts and creatures. Iron protectors defended the village night and day from any sort of attacker, so the villagers could rest easy and enjoy their relatively peaceful lives.

Now she would not have their protection. Now, she truly was alone. And afraid. But she pushed on. She hasn't heard of anyone who had left the village and traveled as far as she wanted to and come back. Who knew how close the next village was? The town she grew up in was rather large, and was not interested in forming a trade route with anyone else.

Soon the plains gave way to a oak forest, and trees grew tall and proud, untouched by man in close clumps. She pressed on, dodging trees as she walked at a quickened pace. The trees at her back made her paranoid, it was too easy for something to sneak up on her without her knowing.

Birds were chirping, sticks we're breaking under her feet. In the distance she saw something move. She froze and reached for the sword at her hip that Keaye had given her for her protection at the demands of his pairing. As the town blacksmith, she knew his work was good, and that it wouldn't break easily. She brandished it as the white figure came around the side of a tree.

A sheep. It turned and baa'd at her, it's strange eyes boring into her as it lowered its head to eat some of the grass growing between the oaks roots.

[blorbo-hellspace]

no one answered so everyone gets it.

Mr Fox and The Disheartened Girl is a story based on the Blue Whale Challenge.

The Disheartened Girl (who I am in the process of naming because she's my daughter) feels, as her title suggests, disheartened. she begins to feel suicidal, but can't bring herself to do it on her own accord.

so, she reaches out to Mr. Fox, who is unconfirmed wether they're a human behind the screen or some sort of non-human monster.

she sends him a text. the response is something she describes as terrifying, just from the notification.

and the game begins.

like the blue whale game, Mr. Fox gives The Disheartened Girl tasks to complete, one a day. the tasks get more and more extreme, to the point she realizes she has so much to live for and how afraid of dying she really is.

she wants to stop the game.

but Mr. Fox has become an authority she can't deny, wether thru traditional grooming or some sort of hypnotic power. she only has one day left.

he gives her her last instruction.

amd she commits.

is there anyone who doesn't understand the story of Mr Fox and The Disheartened Girl that I can rant to abt it

[meenah-chan]

A Smear of Blood

A Mammon x F! MC fanfiction

Genre: Angst

1.38k words

Trigger Warning: Lots of blood, mention of death & violence. Read at your own discretion.

You two were just sleeping together in your room. It's the same old night. Yet for some reason, when he woke up that day, the one beside him is not you, but a smear of blood.

Everytime he wokes up he will usually see you still asleep in his arms. Or sometimes you staring at his sleeping face, which never fails to send his visage into flaring.

But that morning is different. The space beside him is empty.

He shouldn't be thinking of it as you may only be doing your business in the bathroom.

But no...

That morning is different. When he lifted the blanket covering him and the space beside him, an ample amount of blood, as large as his two stretched palms, spreads across the sheet.

His mind went blank for a second. He froze, sitting on his spot as if time went on a total halt. His own blood drains from his face. And in an instant, everything came back, rushing through his veins. Thousands of thoughts he never wished to have invaded his senses.

Did something happened last night? Did someone attacked her? Is it a grudge towards his human? No, there's no way that's possible. She's way too kind for anyone to held any ill intent towards herself. Is it because she is a rare, appetizing human? Or maybe the monster want to settle past misdeed he committed and chose to attack the most important person in his life?

No, he should have felt any danger if that's the case... Or... Could he?

Mammon is one of the strongest in the Devildom. He also have been alive for who knows how long. He barely experienced some lesser demons attack him in his sleep, much less in the House of Lamentation.

No. No one aimed for his head in his own abode. Entering the den of the most monstrous beasts in the Devildom is a suicide for any assassins to test their luck.

It doesn't make sense! It doesn't...

Yet... That blood... That metallic scent invading his sense smell right now... He'd be dumb if he could ever forget such scent. He knew it so well. Why does he knew it so well? Of course he...

The image of that day flashed through his mind and he never knew his heart would sink deeper than it already has. The image of her lifeless body in his arms, soaked with her own blood and bruises. Limp. Breathless. Cold. Too cold. With her lifelessly gentle eyes staring at his useless self, who couldn't do anything to protect her. It's too late. His tears and screams won't bring what she have lost.

His loss. He lost her once already and swears he'll protect her this time around. He'll protect her with his life. He'll... Protect her?

A lightning strucks his system as he force his stiff limbs to motion. He wants to scream but a lump in his throat blocks all the sound he want to gouge out.

He flails out of the bed. He reach for the knob only for it to move a few feet away from him and his hand.

When he raised his unfocused eyes to the person who opened the door, he gasps for air he didn't knew he's been holding.

"Ahh. You're... Awake." His human peeked inside the room for a second. "And you saw that..." She sighed.

But the demon stood there motionless. He scans her with his eyes for any visible wound and blood stains. Any trace of blood on her. Yet he saw nothing but her sweaty self gasping for air, holding what seems to be a comforter.

"...mon... Mammon? You don't look so good." A touch of her warm fingertips is enough to push his last button to tears, which he did. "M–Mammon?! W–Wha, H–Hey!" Tears streams down like falls on his cheeks to the back of her hands as she held his face.

"What... the hell..." They both melted to their knees as Mammon start sobbing. "Hey, Mammo—" her palms slid past his slippery wet cheeks as he pulls her to tight embrace.

"'Ya idiot... human... Ye're killin' me." He whimpered in a muffled voice, face buried on the crook of her neck.

His words snapped all the dots connected in her head of what is actually happening. It probably is because of that incident. The day she died... or atleast her other self. It was a sight, to see herself bathing in a pool of blood, as if it was a different person. It was a sight, really. But it was not the one that sparked her emotion. It was the demon that held her so tight as if she'll slipped away from his grasp. It was Mammon.

She couldn't really comprehend what happened when she was attacked by the youngest brother. She was stranggled, passed out and woke up under the staircase.

It never left a mark on her. She held no ill will towards him. But as the demon with the strongest bond with her, Mammon, was so devastated that time. He cling onto her. He wail with his futile pleads for her to hang on. To not die.

Seeing him like that made her regret the event she have no way of ever predicting. The event she have no control of.

The only thing she could do is to protect him from the ghost of the past. She have to give reassurance to the second oldest— her first demon.

So she hugged him back as firm as he did, caressing his hair lovingly. "There, there... I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

He squeeze her tighter she could hardly breathe. But even if it's hard, she let him because right now, she could finally feel the grip her other self felt that time. She's be lying if she said she didn't felt a hint of jealousy oozing out within her that time. "Don't you dare leave me like that ever again."

"I won't. I'll be with you as long as it takes. This won't happen again."

She gave him featherlight kisses that soothes his pain. A gentle yet firm embrace to gave him assurance and warmth. And within a few moments, Mammon pulled himself back, his eyes and cheeks dusted with shades of red.

"But wait... Are you really not hurt or something?" The white-haired demon close his eyes as she wipes his tears with her thumb.

"You wanna check with your own eyes?" She smirks and wiggle her brows at him, earning a darker flush on his tan face.

"Then what the hell's with the sheet? That isn't your blood, right?" Now it's her turn to blush.

"Uh... Can we just forget that..." Azure orbs glare through her soul. "... or maybe not." She nervously laugh while evading the piercing looks towards her.

"Ugh... This is embarrassing. How should I put this..." She scratch her nape as she search for the right words. "Well, it is mine." Mammon's eyes widen and without hesitation, he lift her shirt and frantically check her torso.

"H–Hey! Sto– Wait! I'm not hurt! That time of the month just came a bit too early is all!" She hastily pulled the hem of her shirt off his grip and down.

"W–What time?" He stares at her, confusion and worry evident on his expression.

"I'm on my period, okay. I woke up with it staining the covers. I panicked and run out after changing to search for a replacement. And yeah, I was late." She pat the sheet on her side. "You saw it before I arrive." She look down to hide her flustered face.

"... Seriously..." Mammon's forehead drops to her shoulder.

After a few seconds, he cups her face and face her to him. "Why'd'ya have ta hide it? And from the Great Mammon? Really?"

"Well, it's embarrassing you know..." She pouts.

"Like hell it's embarrassing. It's normal. It's a part of being a woman. If somethin' like this happen, don't hesitate to ask for the Great Mammon's help... Well it's not like I'm worried or anything. I just wanna help ya. Ye're my human after all." He squishes her face as he grin from ear to ear tinted with pink.

"Yes, my tsundere demon." She also smiled like he did as she held the hands on her cheeks.

"Huh?! Who're ya callin–" he protested, only to be silenced with a peck on the tip of his nose.

"I love you, my Great Mammon."

I was too hyped yesterday I just finished 2 fanfics. That OM! anime announcement left me on edge.

And to anyone waiting for my series Quintessence, I'm on it hahaha 😅😂 I'm torn between two twist and still can't decide but I'll surely post it as soon as I finished it. Please bear with me for the last 2 chapters.

P. S. To anyone who watch BL Romance and haven't seen Given yet, I highly recommend it! A real tear-jerker with amazing plot and masterpiece songs 😭💖💖 I won't go with details but there's something really unique with it and you wont regret watching it sksksk 😚😚

Masterlist

[papytonpropaganda]

i was reading ur ut headcanon list, and i was wondering about ur Pap vs forces of love hcs. can i hear some 👀

hm well, they're not TOO different from my regular headcanons? I guess the main difference would be the background I imagine for Papyrus--unlike UT, UF Papyrus was always pretty popular and a part of the Royal Guard, though he still has that deep desire to be even MORE popular. UF Papyrus also really craves being close emotionally to other people, but is generally too afraid to be real friends with anyone except on the shallowest level, because he lives in a world where that's looked down upon at best and seen as weakness to be taken advantage of at worst.

I suppose other characters would be a little different too--I actually headcanon UF Undyne as someone who is, arguably, LESS hotheaded than UT Undyne. that may come as a shock, but I really enjoy taking the unexpected route with my version of UF. so my UF Undyne isn't any more evil than the other characters. she still hates humanity, but also still cares about monsterkind and hates what it's devolved into. she cares a lot about Papyrus, and she's concerned about his LV. she's also likely to be extraordinarily kind to people she likes on the down-low. that said, if you threaten her or her loved ones, she WILL kick your ass, perhaps lethally.

UF Sans is less apathetic than UT Sans, though on the surface they appear to be equally such. in Papyrus vs the Forces of LOVE, Sans was taught by his father to rise above the rest. he did his best to do so even after Gaster's death, and stopped trying after watching his brother fall into the same trap everyone else was stuck in. he and Papyrus have almost switched places in terms of popularity--UT Papyrus has no friends while UF Papyrus has lots of people who like and respect him, whereas UT Sans has a lot of friends and UF Sans has to have eyes in the back of his head 24/7 just to stay alive. the only reason he's made it this far is arguably because no one wants to piss off Papyrus.

I really dislike the common depiction of UF Alphys as abusive to Mettaton. in my mind, she's still a bit mad-scientisty, but similar to UT, UF Alphys truly befriended Mettaton and made the body of his dreams for him. she also really admires Undyne, because she's seen her gentle side and her hopes for monsterkind to find real love again. UF Alphys also made the Amalgamates like in UT, and she's arguably even more terrified than UT Alphys of it being found out, because that could mean a painful death for her.

(TW: suicide mention) I do kind of see UF Mettaton as the common fanon, though I have my own tweaks. he really wanted to become a star in the Underground, planning to bring back hope and promote peace. unfortunately, most monsters laughed him off. the people running the new television industry found that making Mettaton a laughingstock was getting them a lot of views and therefore a lot of money, so they kept him on and forced him to do some pretty humiliating things. because of that, UF Mettaton is pretty depressed and yes, suicidal, but he keeps holding just for Alphys, his only real friend.

UF Napstablook isn't too much different from UT Blooky in my mind, though they probably have a worse temper because of the general atmosphere of the Underground, and because of their beloved cousin going missing. they're a secret fan of Mettaton.

I never really liked the popular fanon for UF Toriel, so she's also very similar to her UT counterpart. she's a very kind and motherly person who largely keeps to herself and watches over the Ruins, where she allows no killing if she can help it. she's definitely befriended Sans, who can't bring himself to tell her just how bad things are in the rest of the Underground, so she's only got vague ideas of just how dangerous it would be for a human child.

and UF Asgore... it was his actions that brought the Underground to such a horrid state, but I can't at all view that as intentional. he's honestly just as averse to killing as UT Asgore. but unlike UT Asgore, he doesn't interact much with the people in his kingdom, fearing their reaction to his self-perceived pathetic-ness. he keeps to himself, becoming incredibly lonely, simultaneously praying another human never comes, and yet almost hoping they do so his people can see the sun and have a chance at healing.

and then. Flowey.

he's pretty pathetic, choosing to accompany Frisk on their journey through the Underground and helping them where he can. so, I basically went with popular fanon on this one.

(or... did I? 😏)