#i feel fucking insane cause i know nothing is there. nothing ever existed to hunt and kill me. and yet the ever pervasive monster chases me

[ribbonzregretz]

facin the horrors 👍

[troquantary]

Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

[percywinchester27]

La Petite Mort

Word count: 2.1K

Pairing: Dean X Reader AU

Warnings: None, just fluff, humour and implied sex ;)

Series Summary: The reader has just shifted to a new flat and boy, someone on the floor has a really banging sex life! The passionate moans have been keeping her up for several nights in row and enough is enough! Reader has her suspicions, but is it really the green-eyed hottie from room no. 307?  

A/N: It’s a neighbours!AU. I’m finally writing one. So excited to share it with you guys. Hope y’all like it! <3

Beta: The best babe, @deanssweetheart23​​​​​

Everything was fine till the banging started. Pun very much intended.

The shift had been smooth, the job was going great and life was finally on track. You had slid under the covers with the most satisfied smile in years only to be woken up to a lady very, very, very happy with her life.

Oh yeah… oh yeah… ahhh right there… oh fuck yeah…

You sat up right in your bed, eyes wide, face hot.

Third night in a row. Third fucking night. Literally.

What in the good heavens? The landlady might have mentioned this while renting out the flat!

Shoving the pillow over your ears, you fell back onto the mattress, closing your eyes shut very tightly. Eventually sleep overtook you and you lapsed into lousy dreams of trying to catch the taxi which kept evading you. Not a metaphor for your sex life at all. Nope.

The disturbed sleep didn’t help your mood the following day. Everyone at the office thought of you as a happy-go lucky person. Lately, they were seeing this whole new dark side of you. Sleep was essential to your functioning. 

In the evening, on your way back, you stopped by the coffee shop downstairs to pick up a brownie. It was a little place; busy yet quaint. The barista, Charlie, made two hearts in your coffee instead of one. That put the biggest smile on your face. 

At least, the day was ending on a high note.

Your newly rented flat was on the third floor of a very complicated building. One staircase did not directly lead into another. An entire hallway had to be crossed to get to it. The design probably broke a hundred different by laws and someone was definitely paid off in the city civil office to get a construction permit. You did not want to imagine how the people would fare in case of a fire emergency. Learning the escape plan was like memorising the map of a treasure hunt. You escape, you win. You lose… whoops! Better luck in next life. But the rent was cheap and you were already living all the clichés of a struggling writer- one incomplete book, a job at a publishing house and addiction to coffee. So, yes, you would brave fire when it came to being able to afford a living.

Struggling with the brownie package and the coffee in your hand you jammed the key into the door. It didn’t go in. 

What the hell?

You tried again, and once more the key got jammed. On a closer look, you realised that the lock didn’t resemble yours at all. Stepping back, you peered at the door. 307. Not 306- which was yours.

The floor design was insane and instead of the flats being lined up next to each other, they were all fronting one another in a haphazard fashion. Shaking your head, you took a step back and jammed the key into the lock of your own flat.

Jesus! You’re losing it, Y/N.

Shirking off the mild irritation, you cooked yourself a hot cup of instant noodles, put on your favourite TV show and slinked into your couch. Tonight’s episode was going to reveal who the murderer was and you had been dying for the suspense to finally end. 

Just when the protagonist was about to point a gun at the killer in the shadows…

Oh my God... you’re incredible… aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh…

You completely abandoned the TV and jumped up from the sofa. The fire hazard might still be worth it, but the thin walls so weren’t.

On tiptoes, you made your way to the east side wall, putting your ear against it. The noise wasn’t coming from upstairs. That was the only sure thing. But it was impossible to pinpoint the direction. The moans were reverberating through the walls. So loudly that there was no escaping it. Not in the bedroom, the kitchen or the living room sofa. 

Of all of them, the east wall seemed like the culprit. 

Right there… yeah…

307. Whoever it was in that room needed to calm the FUCK down. You grabbed your blanket and dragged it to the end of the living room, fuming. What ticked you off was how much this was ticking you off.

It’s sleep you told yourself. The lack of sleep was the only thing making you mad. The sex noises couldn’t be it. Because there were other noises- a dog barked somewhere occasionally, one of the rooms had a very loud stereo and someone was too much into baking- the beater was ceaseless. No, it had to be the timing and your wrecked sleep schedule.

Just like the nights before, you covered your ears and started reciting the story of the manuscript you had been reading at work. Eventually, sleep overtook you again.

The next morning you woke up in a crappier mood. If that was even possible.

Breathing down on anything and everything, you locked the door on your way out for work. Turning into the corridor, you ran into a wall of solid flesh. 

In your groggy, sleep deprived state, the first thing you noticed was the way he smelled- leather and whiskey and something headier than that. It was divine. Next, you looked up into those eyes- stunning green, like sparkling water running over jade.

“Easy there, sweetheart!” The guy smirked. 

You straightened yourself and took a step back. In front of you stood the most handsome guy you had ever seen. He was tall, with dirty blond hair, almost brown, and those stunning eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You had one of those dumb faces that gave away every damn thought crossing through your brain, so obviously you tried your best not to meet his gaze. Which was a shame really. That face demanded to be ogled at. Let alone the body that followed.

“No, no… I didn’t mind at all.” 

You saw him reach out to the door of 307.

“You’re the one who lives there?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. You want a tour?”

Uhgg the best looking guy and he has to be such a douche!

Slipping past him, you stomped off towards the stairs. This too-good-looking-for-the-world asshat had been ruining your nights and in turn your life. 

You knew it was wrong to be mad at him without, at least, talking about the issue first. A polite conversation explaining your situation wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world now, would it? But how does one start a conversation pertaining to that? After all, he wasn’t exactly the one making the noise. What would you say?

So, hey would you mind pleasuring your girlfriend a little less? 

Or better. Ever heard of a ball gag?

Mere thought of it made you shudder.

The work day was spent trying to shove your neighbour's stupidly handsome face out of your mind. It didn’t help that your mother kept calling, repeatedly. You knew what she had to say. How you should have taken that bigger job at Royal’s publishing. How the writing career might never take off. How you really should get a boyfriend now, or you’ll be the only unmarried cousin in the family.

Usually you could entertain your mother with well-timed hmms and ahhs. Today wasn’t that day.

Bone-tired and absentminded, you jammed the key in the keyhole in the evening, only for it to get stuck again. You looked up at the door. 307.

Well, shit!

Putting both your hands into it, you yanked the key with all your might, just as the door opened. There he stood, with his crooked smirk, dimples digging in, wearing nothing but a thin cotton t-shirt and sweatpants that hung all too low on those hips.

“You don’t need to break into my house. I already offered a tour.” Of course, god gave him an irresistible voice. Cause at this point, why not?

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “I keep getting the wrong door. This one’s mine.”

“Oh, so you’re the one in 306!” You could feel his smirk more than see it. “Looks like you’re having a good ol’ time in there.”

“Excuse me?”

The guy raised scratched the back of his neck, face apologetic. “You might… ya know… just keep the voice down in there?”

The audacity of this guy!

“Rich of you to ask anyone to keep it down!” You hissed. “Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to keep it low?” 

With that, you shut your door in his surprised face. The worst part was, after bumping into him in the morning, your mind was producing distinct images of him in the bed, doing things to a woman. You had tried your best not to let them make a home in your head. But like a stickly tenant, they refused to evacuate. No wonder it was hard to look him in those brilliant, brilliant green eyes. The guy was hot! There was no denying that. You weren’t even willing to accept to yourself just how much time you had put into imagining him naked.

If anything, the denial mixed with your pre-existing irritation and sleep deprivation had you ready tonight. 

So the moment the enamoured voice started begging, you hopped out of your chair. You had every intention of yelling yourself hoarse at the delectable resident next door, but the moment you stepped into the corridor, you came face to face with the very man. 

He was- thankfully, completely clothed- looking a bit harassed, himself.

aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh… right there...

Your head whipped up to the suspected direction of the voice, and back at him. “Wait, you aren’t… it’s not...?”

His face mirrored your expression of surprise and then he burst out laughing. “Looks like we’ve both been played.”

“Not intentionally,” you said, peering at the adjacent doors, mostly to not look at him. “Where do you think it’s coming from?”

He shot a glance at the door opposite to his. “If it’s not you, my best guess is that guy over there. I mean, if you ask me, Nick over there doesn’t look the type to make a woman that happy… but what do I know?”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions about people,” you said, taking a tentative step towards the said door.

Mr. hot guy smartpants laughed. “Oh, trust me. He’s the douchiest douche you’ll ever meet. Guy like that? Definitely selfish in bed.”

You frowned at him.

“He asks women in the street to smile more,” hot guy explained.

“Uhhgg… yeah you’re right. It’s definitely not him.”

Hot guy pointed his fingers at the rest of the doors. “That one’s rented by three guys. I don’t think it’s them. Mrs. Hendrickson over there works night shifts. I have no clue who lives in there,” he pointed to the last door, directly in front of you.

Goodness you’re amazing...

“Yes, lady, we already know!” He called out.

You couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.

His eyes softened. “Dean Winchester,” he said, offering his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, taking his. He had a firm grip. A very funny sensation gripped your stomach. Like a flutter. Nervousness? 

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N.” He smirked. “I sure wish the circumstances were better.”

You bit your lip. “Listen, I’m sorry for the comment about your girlfriend. I was just mad about, you know... “

“Don’t worry about it. My non-existent girlfriend is very cool. She took no offense.”

You snorted.

“I was dead serious about the house tour,” He winked. “I can promise great coffee.”

“Sure, sometime soon.”

He shot a look at the door with the unknown occupants again. “I hate to leave this here, but I think we should get whatever kind of shuteye we can while they’re quiet over there, huh?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hurried back to your flat. “Night, Dean.”

He gave you his crooked grin again, just a hint of mischief. “Night, Y/N.”

You knew it wasn’t him now, and he was right about making the most of the quiet and fucking off to sleep, and yet, each time you closed your eyes, your mind decided to replay your imaginations for you. With a start, you sat up in your bed, a thought occurring to you like a hit on the head- If you had been thinking about him that way? Had he been imagining you as well?

Blood rushed to your face at the very idea. Though a tiny part of you begged for the answer- would it be such a bad thing if he had?

*********************

A/N 2: So? So? SO??? What do you think?

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[itsclydebitches]

I adore talking about this with you, it's so cool to be able to agree, everything I've read is just excusing yen lmao.

And with "geralt would rather do and say things Yen wants to avoid pissing her off" LIKE YEAHH I guess I annoyed yen with my answers and she teleported Geralt out of the tower thing, and then threatened to do it again like??? Like he pissed her off so she has fuck all care about him, was over water thank god but like girl??? omg and her refusing to tell the wticher bros what she was planning on doing to Uma, like I get that they would be hesistent but I mean it's cause it's cruel and painful and they have that trauma around that. She just expects everyone to do what she asks when she asks no questions. (Lambert's "I'm not geralt" when he and Yen are kinda arguring, bb red flags)

I just assumed she didn't believe him cause if she did whats her excuse for behaving how she is lmao??? Like you believe he has amnesia and you still blame HIM over the person who maniplated him KAY.

And goodddd that fucking scene when Triss and Yen see Ciri in Kaer Morhen is genuinely the worst, Triss and Yen see their sis/daughter (not gonna get into how weird I find it that Triss considers Ciri her sister and Geralt is Ciris father and she still wants to fuck him, uncomfy) for the first time in forever, she's alive and well and while Triss is hugging Ciri, Yen kisses Geralt and Triss throws a glare at her. I hated that scene so damn much, it's stupid and shouldn't have been there. (aso I get emotions and all but Yen kissing Geralt is so bitchy, idk even full of gratitude and emotion I wouldn't kiss the man who just dumped me lol, especially not in front of a situation like Triss)

I'm still mad about the women, I really wanted to like them fuck meeee

YOU GOT TO THE PART. Oh thank god, anon, I've wanted to talk about this since we started these conversations lol

Okay, let's set the scene, shall we? You arrive to find that, with our playthroughs anyway, your ex has barged into your home. I say "barged in" because although we (Geralt) know that Yen's help is necessary and she'll be tagging along, the other witchers living there are given no prior warning and, according to Vesemir, Yen teleported in without so much as a "Hello." She then immediately starts ordering everyone around like her servants, failing to explain the situation beyond there being a curse that they have to help with. No, this isn't negotiable. She (still being an ex) takes your old room for herself, which just happens to be the biggest in the keep, and proceeds to toss a bed out the window. It's only later that Vesemir recalls that Triss used to use it, so prior to that everyone apparently just accepted that Yen was destroying their stuff for no understandable reason. Classic Yen. You go upstairs to find her cursing a blue streak at her failed experiment and when you try to lighten the mood, she snaps at you. If you're of the opinion that Yen's every order must be obeyed, this is when you're supposed to drop the conversation entirely, because she said to. Except, funnily enough, you'd like to know why she's up here being The Worst Guest Ever and destroying your property. She tries to justify this by saying that destroying a bed is better than how she could be dealing with her anger over Triss. Be grateful and all that. Except, it's not really about Triss, is it? The line is "You shagged my friend. For upwards of a year. I don't know what your witcher's code says on the matter, but ordinary folk would consider it obscene, base, vile." The blame is not on the woman who knowingly manipulated Geralt into having sex with her while he was vulnerable, it's on Geralt himself! He is the "obscene, base, vile" person for... daring to have amnesia? And when you point that out - "Yen... told you already. I lost my memory" - she yells that she's "lost [her] patience" and teleports you into a lake! This is, apparently, how she really wants to deal with her anger. Not by destroying beds, but by attacking you for things outside of your control. And I do consider it an attack. Yen is meant to be insanely powerful, she is leveraging her magic as a weapon here, particularly when Geralt has spent the whole game commenting on how much he hates portals. Yen knows this. Not just because he says so in her presence, but because she frequently reads his mind, something else he's expressed discomfort with. She's not just demonstrating her power (controlling) and sending him away when he makes a point she doesn't want to acknowledge (immature), she chooses the one thing she knows makes Geralt uncomfortable, perhaps even scared. Then when you've swum your way back to shore and returned to, despite all this, begin her list of chores, she makes a dry comment about how next time she just might drop you high enough for the fall to be fatal. With the next time implied to be, you know, the next time you disagree with her. The next time you dare to do anything other than agree with her every belief and jump at her every command.

The fandom interpretation of all this: "Lol Geralt getting yeeted is so funny. And their banter is just 😍"

Me:

You mentioned red flags and yeah like that ENTIRE SCENE is a crimson banner for me. I mean, by all means, love the fictional ships that are super messed up (I often do), but it astounds me how many fans honestly think this is just a cute interaction with absolutely no problems attached. Nothing to question here, folks. I've mentioned before, but last I discussed this in depth the asker wanted to know if I'd been an asshole to Yen and... that's it. That's the perspective. Any disagreement with her, any pushback, anything that's not complete, blind obedience is something she will not permit AND something most fans take as a given. If you're not doing what Yen tells you to, you're automatically the asshole, and if you're the asshole, you automatically deserve any punishment she chooses to dish out.

Comic spoilers coming up if you want to skip, but this is made abundantly clear in "Curse of Crows." Yen and Geralt are at their best in the moment below, enjoying one another's company on a nice day. Yen asks if Geralt wants to swim and he says nah, he'd rather watch her. She appears to like that idea and, indeed, swims naked while Geralt admires from the shore.

Actually cute right? I really liked this moment! They're cuddled up together and exchanging smiles. It's a rare moment of peace where I can believe that they truly care for one another, outside of passionate sex and not wanting the other dead. Finally, something beyond that incredibly low bar.

...except Yen starts flirting with a young man who shows up, invites him to travel with them, all while refusing to explain why she's interested in his company. The sudden third wheel is clearly bothering Geralt, but Yen continues to ignore his questioning. The answer she finally gives later that night?

She did it purely to mess with Geralt! It's his "just desserts" for "refusing to swim with [her]." She is "not one to be refused - I thought you needed reminding" by giving him "a flick on the nose." When I say that Yen treats Geralt like a dog I mean she literally treats him like a dog. He's a servant who must jump at her every command and if he doesn't, he'll punished for disobedience. He might not even know why he's being punished for a long stretch because Yen enjoys making him think she's a normal person capable of accepting that he doesn't feel like swimming right now - insert the Kaer Morhen scene where she wants to go have sex upstairs, but Geralt wants to catch up with the brothers he hasn't seen in an age here - only to reveal that actually she's made their formerly nice outing uncomfortable because he needs to be put in his place. All of which is followed by, "So... willing to join me now?" The message is very clear! Geralt had better get his ass in that tub unless he wants to be punished some more. Whether he wants a bath right now or not is inconsequential.

This is also the run where she scares the women Geralt was with, despite them being separated right now. Why? "I could."

Claims that Geralt is allowed to return to his companions (who he actually waves away) only for him to realize she's cast a spell to burn him with the water. Yen loves pretending she's okay with things only to punish Geralt for them later - sometimes with physical punishments. And what would have happened if the women had actually joined him again? Do witchers weather hot water better than the average courtesan? Who knows, but Yen clearly doesn't care who might get hurt.

Just like her time in Skellige and at Kaer Morhen, she refuses to explain what's going on. She just expects people to obey her, so-called loved ones included. Geralt was to get her cider, and arrive before her bath went cold, not question what they're doing on this dangerous hunt. He's a servant.

And my favorite, petty moment: transforming her awful inn food into a lavish meal without offering to do the same for either Geralt or Ciri.

"But, Clyde, that's just the comics. They're not really canon." Nah, questions of canon aside, this is 100% Yen's characterization. She's prideful. Immature. Beyond controlling. And punishes anyone who dares to tell her "No." Fans are always pointing out that she's meant to be horrible, she could have been a villain in another life, like any of that explains why I'm supposed to root for this relationship or enjoy her existence outside of being a complex character. Yen is interesting, but she's interesting in a "I can't wait to see her get her own just desserts" way. Not "Wooo now I get to watch this story ignore her behavior again to push a True Love narrative."

She punished Geralt frequently during their first meeting, she punishes him whenever they get together, and, I think, she punished him during the reunion with Ciri. Given our playthroughs, do we really think that after breaking up with her and all this fury over Triss - an anger so deep she destroyed the bed and attacked Geralt - she's just overcome with such joy that she forgets they're not together anymore and forgets the anger she's been nurturing for years? Yen doesn't forget. She's staring at Ciri during that moment, right where Triss is currently running towards them, and then after a considering look at Geralt pulls him in for that kiss. That was calculated. She did that to make a claim she no longer had. To punish them both: make Triss uncomfortable by playing at the "perfect" family reunion; make Geralt uncomfortable by kissing him when she knows he doesn't feel the same way. But of course, the popular reading is that she just loves him so much she couldn't help herself. Riiight.

It's just all SO BAD. (Including, as you say, the ickiness of having Triss lusting after Geralt and referring to Ciri as "little sis.") I love a lot of the women in Witcher - Cerys is a fave, Ciri, Saskia, Philippa, Keira, etc. - but the two I'm supposedly meant to fall in love with are just the worst lol.

Basically:

Half the fandom: TEAM TRISS 🤬

The other half: TEAM YEN🤬

Me: TEAM REGIS 😭

[phoebehalliwell]

if you could give 3 positive and 3 negative personality traits to each of the next gen, what would they be?

ooh love it. okay. we know i talk a lot. A Lot. i’m doing this in waves. first set of siblings under the cut (wcm). 2.9k. ily!

wyatt i think it’s say kind bc like. he genuinely tries really hard to be a nice person. considerate which is kind of the same as kind but again he like. he knows the elders almost killed him as a little kid he knows there’s a world where he does go dark side and that does weigh on him, so he tries to put other’s feelings first as much as possible. and then third positive trait ummmm generous which again is kinda all in the same category but it’s like. like wyatt is insanely talented not just like as a witch tho he’s that too he’s also like really smart but he’s not a dick about it he’s one of those kids who’s always like i’ll help u with your homework! what r u doing after school later! like. he has a wealth of knowledge and he doesn’t just sit on it he likes to share. this is one of the reasons henry jr is also so close with wyatt because like. they both share this genuine love and interest in the study of like old magicks so to speak like. histories of witches and demons etc most classes the rest of the next gen honestly find kinda boring. on the flipside his negative traits would be like um a tendency to play by the book he’s a little too strict not because he necessarily believes in it but more again he wants to stay in line so as not to get you know. murdered or w/e. another negative trait is a i would say wyatt gets like way too overattached, especially in relationships, but it’s not limited to that. yes he’s a jump then fall guy & i’ve written about this before (multiple times), but i also think it’s the same with like innocents. like the fact of the matter is is that you literally cannot save anyone but wyatt has never and will never learn to accept that and i think he gets. he takes it real hard whenever he loses somebody and gets really pissy and closed off in the aftermath. a third negative trait is like. overprotective. like. in my writings he’s not the twice blessed anymore but he’s still wicked powerful, and he’s also like. the eldest. so he kind of feels this burden to protect his family. it doesn’t help that throughout their youth like chris ever the demon hunter always sought out trouble and leo who Really Didn’t Want To Watch Chris Die Again kind of always passed on whatever the mission was to wyatt. which, yeah, gave chris issues, but it also gave wyatt issues! because in his head, it really is his responsibility to handle these things for his family. and, yes, sometimes he can relinquish this power a little bit like not actively hover over his family while they’re demon hunting, but if he’s not you know. actively there, he’s either scrying or he’s sensing (if he can do that idk) and just. he’s got this feeling that anything bad that happens to his family is his fault. like he has this great power, so if someone gets hurt, like, he should have been there because he definitely could have stopped it. however, this energy kinda harshes everyone else’s buzz, which is why the other tend not to involve wyatt in their plotlines too much.

moving on to chris who just for the record i already wrote for but thanks to the beauty of this site i accidentally clicked the wrong button & now it's gone. so. take two! i don't remember what i said. okay so first trait i'm giving him is. i honest to god cannot remember what i said previously no wait that's a lie because i remember now because it was interesting. because i think chris is interesting, and i think that's a good thing. because like. i wouldn't describe him as likeable i would not say he has the personality trait of Likable™ because like. he doesn't. but people still really like him. because he is interesting. like they see him and go huh wow i wanna know what's going on there all in all i think people kinda gravitate towards him. but of course flipside i think he doesn't necessarily choose to become friends with everyone who approaches him i think he tends to be a bit picky just because you know he's so guarded so i think he has friends but no like. really super close friends. so like first negative trait is he kinda appears aloof because i mean. he's kinda gotta lotta issues you know and it's not something you can really easily explain to someone non-magical because magic is so deeply ingrained into who he is (which also adds to the aloofness because there are just certain topics he'll drop certain things he just won't talk about and its not because he doesn't care or anything it's just like. that's a really big reveal and rather that spin some elaborate web of lies i think chris just like straight up does the i can't tell you that bit, which makes him seem you know well like aloof kinda a little bit dickish). and then of course there's also like. like a lot of vulnerability involved in understanding who chris is he really doesn't have any middle layers nothing that sits between the surface mortal chris and the charmed chris with an inferiority complex it's either you know it all or you know. he just seems aloof. but again like. i think he's interesting. so much so that a lot of people are just kinda willing to look past that. so like. a lot of just external relationships. surface level. & then another defining trait of his on the positive side is clever. because like. he's smart. like i think he's a really skilled witch i think he's an excellent spellcaster and then like. i also think he can do math and stuff (in my fic he is a coder so like. yeah.) but i think it's kind of beyond just like Oh He's Smart i think it's the way he applies his brains applies his knowledge that really kind of sets him apart from the rest i think he really is clever. and then third positive i think chris is resourceful. i think like. i think he likes to have a sense of indepence away from his family because like. i mean he is a halliwell and he doesn’t shy away from that but at the same time he doesn’t really want to like. lean on that rest on well the thing is it’s not even his laurels to rest on. he wants to have this sense of independence and he’s actually p good at getting it. like i having him living on his own (so 2 speak, he has like. 4 roommates? i’m p sure) and yeah he’s not super great at it from just like. a living perspective you know but he’s making it i think like paying his own rent all that and yeah like the food he eats isn’t great and his room is kind of always a disaster but like. he’s made it p far i think a lot farther than people thought he could no disrespect. so i think he's really able to take what lifes gives him and make the most out of it i don't think he likes to coast by on others' accomplishments. which kinda segues into the second negative trait which i think you probably could guess he's overly-independent like independent to a fault. because like. i think he really wants to define himself with kinda comes in a two-fold way because like. okay in-family he wants to. okay so like obvi, there's a major drop off in power between him and wyatt. and i think he's always kinda been insecure about it think what on earth caused such a cosmic fuck up that he's just a telekinetic and then his brother is like. a baby god. so i think chris really feels this need to prove himself worth of a place in the warren line like cement his skills as and really say you know i deserve this title. and then flipside!! he really doesn't want to rely on titles you know he doesn't want respect because he's a charmed one or because he's a halliwell he wants respect off his own merits he wants people to know him by his actions not the legacy he carries. (also maybe gives reason for chris to occasionally use the name chris perry in the altered timeline??) and then. kind of building off that negative trait for his third one i'm saying listless because like. i think the crucial difference between the chris from the dark timeline and chris from the light timeline is like. darktl!chris has always had purpose. like yes it's a shitty purpose it's a burden it's too much to place on one boy but he is the last halliwell you know it's like basically all on him to stop wyatt from you know annihilating the world. (someone should probably tell him the cupitches exist in the dark future lmao) you know from like very very early on in his life darktl!chris has known he's destined for something big and honestly he might fail but he's gotta give it the ole college try because this is the world on his shoulders he's gotta put up a good fight for it. lighttl!chris literally does not have that. he does not have some grand, epic purpose, some monumental destiny to fulfill and like. what is he supposed to do, you know? why is he here? and he feels like he should have some epic destiny hmm well no not exactly he wants some epic destiny but he feels like if there were some epic destiny to be had it'd probably pass over him in favor for something better just like everything else in his life does. like why is he here? literally why is he here i mean okay so like disclaimer is that chris in my story is like. 20/21 and um. also a college dropout lmao haha and like. call a spade a spade we're probz looking at some undiagnosed depression here like give him a zoloft he'll be fine but like. chris feels like he's kinda on a raft in the middle of open ocean in a sense like. the best option is to pick a direction and paddle and hope he reaches land but he's literally in open ocean there are no markers no indicators he doesn't know where to go and like. if he picks wrong he's just heading closer and closer to nothing at all emptiness death whatever And There's No Way To Know Which Way Is Towards Land. and if he fucks up, like, he's screwed. shout out to all my early twenty-somethings. woot woot. but yeah. i think chris really wants a sense of purpose that simply put he does not have and honestly? will not be getting. i am not giving him a prophecy. i am not giving him a destiny. he will have to live with that. and, at this point in his life, i think he's doing a p bad job at that. lmao.

melinda!! baby girl. angel. honestly? i'm going to give her kind too because i think a large part of her just really wants to help people. i've previously called her the most-whitelightery of the next gen, & then also she is currently going to school with designs to become a nurse because like. she's also an empath you know and i think she definitely has aspirations to kind of mix her magical and mortal sides find a balance of both worlds and use her magic powers to enhance how she can better care for people in a mortal way. i'd also say she's really understanding. like, she's the third sibling to the wyatt-chris duo And she's an empath like. even if she doesn't get it, she gets it. like. things are complicated relationships are complicated like she can literally feel all sides of the story whenever there's a wyatt-chris-leo argument and like. what? is only one of them right? is only one of them allowed to feel the way they feel? no. she gets it. she all kinda understands where they're coming from. she understands. and then third positive trait she's really loving. like she's not a person who's stingy with her love (in a platonic sense. i think it a romantic sense it gets a lot more complicated because like. as an empath on the first date well it's just too weird man and it's. it's not like she can't keep her feelings sorted it's just like knowing exactly how they feel about her….. like it's weird. pass.) but i think she really like. i think she loves her family i think she loves her friends like. ❤. wow. on the more negative side i think she kind of like. self sacrificial. like she'll goes to the ends of the earth for the people she loves before she ever stops to think about herself. she doesn't. like she won't self advocate she won't draw a line in the sand when it comes to the ones she loves she fails to um. to see how sometimes her needs might actually be more important that others like. like if she loves you she will walk until her feet bleed. like. you have to be real careful because like. if you ask her to do something like she'll do it you can tack on that "but it's fine if no you don't have to" because if she feels your need to have this task done she'll do it. it's for love. but it's not good. (she will also extend this to non-loved ones again if she feels their need their like desperate need because at the end of the day she's a giver. hey kinda like the giving tree. i think she loves that book.) i also think she's just a shade naive and i kind of hesitate to use that word because like. i feel like it implies kind of a lack of worldly experience and like. melinda has seen a lot. but i think she like really does kind of see the world through rose colored glass i think she believes that people are intrinsically good and want to help each other and um. this can kinda tee her up for a lot of heartbreak and/or disillusionment with the world when kinda the reality is placed there right before her and it just kind of blows. i think it kind of hurts fresh every time. and then a third and final negative trait i think she like takes on too much, from an emotional standpoint, and doesn't really give anything back. kinda the same as self-sacrificial, but like with a twist. like, yes, as established, she has a lot of love in her heart, and she will take on her friend's emotional burdens (as well as any other burdens they might have for her) but then kinda gives nothing in return. she's a bit guarded in a sense. because again. this all comes back to the empath thing. kind of build on the dating thing. you really get live feedback on what exactly they think about you when you unpack, and like. melinda can't take that. she's too in her head on how this directly impacts their view of her and then she's just reading them and not focusing on her own problems you know like. like ladies if you've ever hit like. 1:30 in the morning at a slumber party when shit starts going from hehehe chetoh doost lasdkajldf to like. i don't think i could ever reasonably get married because divorce has really been the only constant in my life and i genuinely don't think i could trust another person enough to tie myself to them legally.? that's melinda's mcfuckin time to shine i think she does play therapist/peacemaker like a lot she likes it because again. she likes helping people! especially the people she loves!! but um. she'll never partake the other direction she really doesn't like getting vulnerable herself because like. you know if your friends are lying to you like you say something really personal and then cap it off with a y'know? and they all go yeah totally but you can feel them going what,,, the fuck. no?? like. like melinda could not take that it has not happened to her yet (probably) but she's come up with the hypothetical and she could not take that. this doesn't really extend to family just because she knows them so long like oh what chris thinks she's lame? okay. wyatt thinks she's overreacting? yeah i know what i've seen buddyboy. & then. for the record. neither or her brothers would never think she is lame or overreacting even If melinda is being lame or overreacting because they just like wouldn't they know her too well. but melinda's def the person who comes up with worst case hypotheticals in regards to her relationship/empathy powers like. all the time.

[agusvedder]

I DON’T CARE if this doesn’t get any notes. I need to vent.

My name is Agustina, I’m 27 years old. I’m a nonbinary, queer, latinx person, parent of a 4 year old, non-verbal authistic child. I suffer from depression and anxiety.

I’m 9 thousand kilometers away from the woman I love.

I’m not a victim. I am a minority. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I started watching Supernatural in 2015, you know, being a stay-at-home parent, who dropped her career and her job to live the first years of their child, there wasn’t much I could do in my free time but to watch a show. I caught a few episodes of season 11 on tv and then I decided to start from zero. I always acknowledged how problematic it was in terms of representation, but always saw small threads of light filtering in the message it sent, recognizing how its writers were trying to shed a little light, creating a jenga tower of storylines and new characters, only to be thrown away by poor, useless deaths and the erasure of said characters.

Since my first run on season 1 I related to Dean. I saw myself on him. (I will never be as brave and cool as him tho, never ever, but his personality traits, some of his family issues, his self worth issues, his loneliness, his unaddressed childhood trauma, his growth in a circle of violence, his reticence to address his feelings until he explodes?... Yeah. There are days where my girlfriend makes fun of me saying “Ok Dean”). I kept looking up to Dean in his geekiness, in his way he always put his life on the line to protect the people he loves and put them always first… even in the supernatural side of the storyline, he still was profoundly human and abnegated to the people in his life. Also because I’m deeply in love with Castiel but that’s another subject. Thanks to this show, I’ve found people in my own country who now I recognize as my family beyond SPN, who helped me accept myself the way I am, who are always there for me. My found family, my chosen family. Because family don’t end in blood, because family cares about you, not only for what you can do for them, because that’s what all of us have in common, and why this show resonated as strongly as it did for us. That’s why we found each other and ourselves in the process, in a circle of love, support, non-judgement and willingness to find a family in ourselves when our own blood relatives ignored us, abused us, refused to recognize us. We’ve found love and family. I’ve found the woman with whom I wanna spend the rest of my life with because of this show.

That’s the power of this story. I know my small circle is not the only one who lived this, who continues to live it.

I can talk about this forever, but there’s something I wanna talk about specifically here. When the ending aired.. what I felt was… like a bucket of cold water was thrown over my head. You know when your parents come home, or call you and give you the devastating news that someone you love died? that exact feeling. The adrenaline, the heartbreak, the feeling of loss. 

The whole season 15 and 15 years of storyline were completely overturned. The misogyny the writers tried so hard to erase, it was there again, in a faceless woman who was supposed to represent the person a lead chose to spend the rest of his life with, reduced to a lilac dress, a blurry face and a uterus. We never seen acknowledged the existence of Eileen Leahy, Sam Winchester’s romantic interest since season 11, his perfect partner whose disability wasn’t an obstacle for her to be a badass hunter. (BUT COVID!! <- No. Eileen Leahy appeared in two episodes this season without Shoshannah being on set: Last Holiday and Despair. If they wanted to include her, they would have. They didn’t because they don’t give a FUCK). Sam Winchester is an academic, a witch, a leader, a powerful hunter, a kind human being, and the ending that was given to him was living an unfulfilled life, dying at a ridiculous young age, having a son only to replace his dead brother? It was sad. Sammy deserved better. He always did.

My beloved Dean Winchester, who I love so deeply, who taught me a lot about myself, about life, love, family, about *ejem* VICIOUS CIRCLES and the power of breaking free from them, of learning to embrace one’s self, our real tastes, our real identity, to come out of a shadow of being reduced to someone’s caretaker instead of having an identity of our own, to spend life loving family the healthy amount.. well, he was killed in a ridiculous way, on a milk run of a hunt.  After being eager and ready to kill himself so many times. After all he’s been through, after saying he’s good with who he is, after considering retirement, after standing up to his dad, saying he already has a family, ready to cut the “I’m Okay” bullshit, address his feelings, his trauma, don’t letting those define him. He deserved better. He always wanted a family, he always wanted to break free from the version of himself he was created to be, “daddy’s blunt little instrument” (For fuck’s sake, he even said it in the same show 10’ before dying, man. If we don’t keep living, the sacrifice the people who died for us did, was for nothing). Are you telling me this man really would refuse his brother to call an ambulance? Refused his brother to get the first aid kit even knowing it was more serious than his brother thought? He was ready to live. He CHOSE life, and at the end his choice was stripped away from him. He clearly was a bisexual man and they never explored it.

Cas. The misfit. The fish outside of the water. Ambiguous gender and sexuality. Finally makes a homosexual declaration of love after all he’s been through. After being brainwashed, used, suicidal, isolated. After telling Sam and Dean he loved them more than once, that they meant everything for him. After confessing he’s been in love with Dean since he pulled him out of hell…. Was erased from the story. Erased, literally. Two emotionless mentions aren’t enough for a 12 year old family member who pulled both brothers out of hell, who died for them more than once, who until 2 seasons ago he didn’t even feel like he belonged there ‘cause he was never told he was loved. No one ever told him “I love you” back. Not Jack, not Sam, not Dean, not Mary. No one. Ever. And still, he died for love. And with his death, he was erased from the finale, being that the first finale Castiel wasn’t in since his appearance on the show. He deserved better. 

All roads lead to Rome and you know what we got at the end of that road? a bottomless pit of NOTHING. The building up towards a different end isn’t just in s15. It’s been there for years and years. And if you watch the show, you see it at plain sight.

 

Sam Winchester hurried to die to reunite with his brother in heaven EVEN WHEN HE SPENT 30 MORE YEARS WITH A WIFE AND A KID he only wanted to die to go back to his brother? it’s insane, it’s ridiculous. That’s not what the show has been about for seasons now. SEASONS. The road was paved towards a healthy brotherly bond, each brother living their future the way they wanted, finally breaking free from the curse John dropped on Dean that Sam’s destiny was in his hands. No no. What was that? Did it ever happen? Was it a fever dream? They really destroyed everything in 38 minutes of the finale? 

Stupid. 

Representation is important, stories are important. They change lives. You know how it changed mine? After I saw Jonathan Van Ness coming out as non-binary, I started to realize how I never called myself "a woman, a girl" or anything like that, how my "female presenting" aesthetic changes drastically depending on how I feel when I wake up  how I always called myself a "person", no gender involved. I realized I was a non-binary person even after becoming a parent. Thanks to Jonathan Van Ness. Thanks to seeing a person like her being unapologetically herself. 

Representation matters. 

It matters. 

It helped my mom understand me when I was 13 and had a girlfriend. It helped my dad educate himself about trans identities. It helped my sister understand about her demisexuality. It helps break circles of ignorance and stereotypes. It helps people process what these characters wanna tell, and realize they're human beings above it all. We suffer, we laugh, we grieve. We love. We exist. 

Supernatural missed a chance to be a historical show in terms of representation. And it breaks my heart.  I cant believe they decided to erase Dean's sexuality, to erase Castiel after saying loud and proud he's in love with a man, to erase Eileen whose disability only was a disadvantage when they KILLED HER in the most ableistic way in s11, to never show Charlie and her girlfriend again, that they decided to make God bisexual AND a villain, thay they decided to turn the only regular non-binary character of color into the villain too (Billie).

I'm still grieving.

This is why "a stupid show" is so important for me, and for lot of people like me. Cause representation can change lives. Stories can change lives. It certainly changed mine, and I'm not the only one. 

Don't let anyone tell you you're just a butthurt fan because you're suffering this ending. Every one of us have a story and this is mine. All of us are valid, our feelings are valid. And we'll get through this eventually

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Girls Just Want to Have Fun

It’s always fun jumping into a movie I know next to nothing about, and this requested review for Wes will be no exception. All I know is that Girls Just Want to Have Fun is an 80s teen romp with the worst photoshopped cover photo I’ve ever seen. It looks like Michael Scott put it together. I know it stars girls, AND I know what those girls want. That’s half your narrative battle right there. So do they achieve the fun they seek? Well...

They do! A lot of weird shit happens along the way, but yeah, fun is had and that’s all that really matters. God, 1985 was a simpler time. I mean, I know everyone was living in constant fear that the Russians were going to invade Kansas and we’d be faced with a neverending nuclear winter, but in the face of all that existential terror you also get movies where the entire pitch is “So there’s this girl (Sarah Jessica Parker) who wants to be a dancer on tv, but her parents don’t want to let her. But she does it anyway! And her partner is chosen for her and, boy, they do not see eye to eye. But then they do! And they have to practice a lot. And then they win the dance contest!” 

You know some studio exec heard that and screamed at his secretary to hold his calls for the day so he could sign the contracts and then do a mountain of blow off them. 

Some thoughts:

It’s so weird to see Sarah Jessica Parker without curly hair! I was never a Sex and the City fan, so my exposure to SJP is purely Hocus Pocus based.

This dance sequence over the credits is incredible. Why do we not have shows anymore that are just a large group of young attractive people dancing in sync? No host, no dialogue, just the power of dance. I was born in the wrong decade. I would have appreciated the shit out of the 80s when I was alive.

Poor Helen Hunt - she must be one of those people who always looked like she was 35, even in high school. Granted, she was 22 when this was filmed and she’s playing a teenager, but still. 

Helen Hunt is wearing dinosaurs in her hair. 80s fashion was on a wavelength that I don’t think any of us living will ever see again.

Omg this rich bitch (Natalie, I guess? She’s not named for at least the first 30 min of the movie) had Claire’s closet from Clueless 10 years before the movie existed! This is already groundbreaking.

NOW SHE HAS A BUG ON HER HAT. A big plastic green grasshopper. This review is mainly going to be about the insane things Lynne (Helen Hunt) wears.

Speaking of - I’m getting big lesbian vibes from Lynne Stone and I am so here for it. The homoerotic tension when she acts like she’s gonna fight the rich bitch? Delicious. The immediate intimate connection she makes with SJP? Practically U-Hauling. 

I love an 80s dance montage, and this movie promises to contain basically nothing but that tied loosely together with some nonsensical dialogue in between. This is gonna be my new favorite movie. 

Ooh Nestle Quik syrup! I forgot about Nestle Quik. 

Favorite line: “There is a time and a place for calypso music, young lady.”

Ohhh I see what this is gonna be - Janey (SJP) is a classically trained dancer and gymnast, and Jeff (Lee Montgomery) is more of a rough and tumble music video kinda guy from the streets. You can tell cause he’s got a motorcycle and a leather jacket. And he wears cutoff sleeves! He’s a white guy in Chicago, who could be more street than that? And they’re butting heads! How will they ever be able to make it work for the big dance contest??

How did Natalie know Janey’s phone number? She specifically said it was unlisted. Unless she remembers it from overhearing it offhand after the dance tryouts...? That’s insane, I can’t even remember what I wore yesterday let alone a 7-digit number someone shouted in a crowd.

Lynne Fashion Alert: Is she wearing a belt made out of bullets? And a Davy Crocket hat. This is galaxy brain lesbian fashion. If the costume designer for this movie didn’t win 10 Oscars...

The music director on the other hand...not sure what is up with all these weird KidzBop covers of excellent songs like “Dancing in the Street” or the titular “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” but if you’re gonna include them, you gotta spring for the originals. This is just sad. 

I’ve never been at a party with an ice sculpture. I think that’s how you know you’re among the rich. 

Whatever happened to Jonathan Silverman? I miss when he was the nebbishy sidekick in every 80s movie. 

Who enters a party by catapulting through the damn window?? Punk does not mean that you no longer know how to use doors, sir! 

Who serves a full roasted turkey at a party? Is this how rich people live? This feels like the equivalent of using Google translate to identify rich people food in another language, then translating it back to English. 

Lynne Fashion Alert: Now I think she has space shuttles in her hair.

Wow we got a real 1-2 punch of sexual harassment in this club. Who wrote this Tune in Tokyo gag and was like “You know what would be hilarious? If this shitty little nerd convinced this girl to raise her arms so he can just grab her boobs full on, front and center. And then she gets upset and runs away. God I’m good at this *snorts another line*”

Lynne Fashion Alert: Now it’s two globes (like, two Earths) with crab claws on them? This is a choice that I don’t understand, but I think I may just not be seeing what it is clearly. I am digging her mirror sunglasses though. 

I know Janey is smart but when did she learn how to hotwire a security system? It’s not like Google or Youtube existed, and I doubt there was a library book about how to dismantle that specific system. MYTH BUSTED.

Oh god oh no I’m so gay for these Dixon sisters from Kansas City, these two gorgeous black women in tuxes and spandex leotards. They 100% should have won this dance contest. 

Why did guys stop wearing crop tops? Can we bring back slutty quarterback as a fashion trend for dudes? Seriously, the costume design here is everything. 

I really love Jeff and his little family - his sister and his dad are so proud of him and supportive. You never see that in dance narratives featuring guys. I like the reversal here of gendered expectations.

Did I Cry? No, but my heart was warmed at various moments. 

Honestly, why can’t more narrative arcs in movies be solved via dance battle? 

Lynne Fashion Alert: She’s now dressed as...Cleopatra? Wait why the fuck is there a horse here? 

Oh that’s it that’s the end! Man, you can’t be mad at a tight 90 min film like this - it gets in, it gets out, bing bang boom you’re done with enough time to read before bed. 

Is this a cinematic masterpiece? No. But is it good clean fun? Absolutely. Barring the brief [obligatory 80s] sexual harassment scene, there’s very little to be upset with here. Kids wanna dance, they’re told they can’t dance, they dance anyway! It’s the power of dance! You’re either into it or you’re not, but if you’re not, I ask that you search your heart and try to find one teeny tiny sliver of joy inside it. You’re gonna need to feed that joy if you wanna make it through 2021, and watching this movie is a darn good place to start. 

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my��Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[crstapor]

Terror White

“You’re either with us or against us.” - George W. Bush


1.

On January 6th, 2021, domestic terrorists invaded the Capital Building in an act of political insurrection. Their intent was to overthrow the will of the people by preventing certification of a free and fair democratic election. They did so at the behest of their political leader (who was impeached a second time for inciting this gross transgression of his oath of office), other voices in their party - the so-called GOP - and talking head agitators inhabiting the far-right media echo chamber. Nearly to a man, a woman, a they, each of these terrorists were white.

Images of ‘good old boys’ traipsing down the halls of the people’s house waving confederate battle flags, kicking feet up on the Speaker’s desk, walking off with public property or smearing their shit on the floors pervaded the internet. These images provided by the villains themselves, posted shamelessly to social media profiles.

As a result of this treasonous, insulting, juvenile, despicable, and ultimately futile effort five people died. Even still, hours after the fact, a majority of members of the so-called GOP voted in accordance with the will of these terrorists. They voted to overturn the results of a free and fair election in the world’s oldest modern democracy. They did so because they believed there were serious ‘concerns’ (‘concerns’, let’s be clear, that started with them and like the Ouroboros, ended up with the confusing, if unhygienic, phenomenon of not knowing where their mouths or assholes ended or began) with the 2020 presidential election. After over 60 court cases arguing that point only one was ruled in their favor. None of the 50 States comprising our union found any evidence of wide-spread fraud. Indeed, a federal agency tasked with monitoring election security stated unequivocally that the presidential election of 2020 was one of the most secure in a generation.

And yet? There they were. Spouting conspiracy theories, assaulting police officers (those stalwart stewards of the ‘law & order’ they otherwise claim to love), brandishing spears and bearskins, stealing mail, leaving death threats to the Vice President, fundamentally acting the fool. A bunch of bullies let out of detention with rage and rebellion on their minds.

Let me be clear: each and every one of these terrorists should be hunted down by law enforcement and charged to the fullest extent of the law. They should then be prosecuted and the judges in each and every case should show or allow no mercy. These barbarians must never be allowed to storm the gates again.

Fine.

But that’s not the really interesting question here. The far-right has been producing assholes forever (one of the few things the ‘right’ is truly consistent at). What’s actually interesting is how these insurrectionists arrived at the conclusions they did. Which is to say; how did their ��thinking’ bring them to this point.

2.

While it might be tempting for some on the left to see that last sentence as a joke, let’s remember we’re sitting at the adult table. These terrorists, being human, sharing our genetic code, are people - real, live, eating, shitting, fucking, anxious, sleeping, scared, afraid, terrified people - just like you and me. As much as it would be easier if we could see them as Uruk-hai instead of our brothers and sisters, sadly? That’s what they are. Family. Part of the Human Condition.

Though humans that are clearly very, very, very sick. My diagnosis? Mind Cancer. Let me explain, under the assumption my readers understand the difference between mind and brain. As such, I am not asserting that the terrorists are physically sick. From their pics and videos it’s clear many are - obesity, hypertension, anal retention - though that isn’t the point. It’s their mental programming, their minds, that have been infected. Infected with what?

Put simply? A disjointed ontological phenomenology obscured, obfuscated, and accelerated by persistently chaotic epistemological aberrations. Said plainly? Their ability to process reality has been impaired.

Why? Racial resentment, poor economic opportunities, an aversion to books and learning? Yes. All that. Plus? The internet, which has created a new Dark Ages.

Paradoxically, one built on light.

3.

Look. Self-interested demagogues intent on self-aggrandizement are nothing new. Nor are their ability to rally or rile a downtrodden populace. Sadly, demonizing the ‘other’ is also pretty par for the course in these scenarios. An old story, all told. What’s new this time is how it happens.

In a single second - count it out! One Mississippi - a beam, or photon of light moves 186,000 miles. Roughly seven times the circumference of the Earth. The new speed of hate. The internet, that modern marvel ushering in Humanity’s first truly post-scarcity resource, is built on light. Philosophers have for millennia wed knowledge with light. And now we all (well, those of us in the post-industrial world) carry a terminal connected to this internet in our pockets. A stunning marvel of human ingenuity. One would imagine that access to such a wellspring of knowledge and information would have a truly edifying affect on the Human Condition. Perhaps, in aggregate, or retrospect, it will. At the moment?

Yeah ...

At the moment it seems that the more access to information humans have the more they double down on tribal identities, wish fulfillment, instant gratification (read: porn), perceived slights, fantasy lands, Rick Astley videos, or the jibbering incoherent rantings of simple capitalists fomenting the fragile emotional states of low information individuals who feel they have no place in this world. This is a fundamentally devastating epistemological conundrum. Why? For centuries the barrier to the future was the amount of information, knowledge, you could access or process. Yet here and now? Here and now there might be too much access. Too much information. More so, the striking fact that our ability, as a species, writ large, to process or parse this information has not kept pace with the information at hand. A sad equation that inevitably leads to moments like 01/06/21.

4.

The Trump Terrorists of January 6th, 2021, weaponized the internet to facilitate their attempted coup. As did their ‘dear leader’ throughout his humiliating single term in office. In fact, it was the geometrical acceleration of connectivity and interconnectedness enabled via the web and its insanely capitalist platforms that allowed for their ‘movement’ to incubate and evolve. While it is true that neo-liberal policies advocating globalist economics and monetary policy are at the current root cause of most ills genuinely affecting rural, or poor, or uneducated MAGA-heads, it’s also true that apart from an Independent from Vermont no one in the political economy of the last couple decades gave much of a shit about these poor and dispossessed inheritors of old racial mythemes and toxic narratives of self-reliance. No one that is, other than their ‘dear leader’. Never mind he didn’t intend to ease their suffering in any material, or structural way. He talked about it. He tweeted about it. And then he gave them a little song and dance at the rallies. Breathtaking stuff.

However, it wasn’t just the performative act of playing ‘authoritarian’ that got them hot and bothered. No, it was at the same time the eternal need to belong to a group, the legitimate feeling of economic obsolescence, coupled with these new tools of information transmission. Tools that at once gave them powers unheralded and seemingly ensconced them in a protective shell, a perpetually larval manifestation of all their baser inclinations. A reactionary ‘safe space’ from which they could launch a thousand ships of intolerance and hate. What good is truth if you can’t weaponize it? What good are facts if you share them with everyone else?

And so we find ourselves revising Plato. There isn’t just one cave in which we are chained, kept from reality. There are multiple tunnels, alcoves, deeper caverns in which we might dwell. Furthermore, if lucky, there are different days, vistas, egresses in which we can escape from the confines of ignorance. Much like the lucky Mormons, it would seem the far-right believes there are plenty of planets in which ‘Truth’ can dwell. Never mind that multiplying ‘Truth’ in such a way doesn’t actually produce more truth.

In fact, it reduces ‘Truth’. Impoverishes it. Hollows it out.

Which is sad, really. For the major harm caused by these rebels isn’t to our democratic institutions, nor our mythological vision of our nature, nor that ever-loving economy - but to the very fabric that binds the social contract on which all the preceding rely.

That fabric being, specifically, a shared objective reality.

5.

How can we survive if we can’t agree on basic facts? Can a multi-racial, multi-cultural, representative democracy exist when a large percentage of the comprising citizens don’t believe in, or even acknowledge, that that’s actually what’s happening? Is White Supremacy so fundamentally a part of our nation’s DNA that the country can’t exist without it? If so, for those of us who vehemently oppose White Supremacy, the question might then be: is the country worth saving?

Most versions of Western Ethics indicate that violence is not the cure. Nor do I advocate such a position. At the same time I’m deeply troubled, because due their illness these actors are neither rational or coherent. Ergo, we can’t reason with them either. So what next?

To corral the revolutionary, if inchoate, spirit of these sick, fringe minds diseased as they are by hate, grievance, and digital oubliettes would any policy proposals be acceptable? Perhaps as fantastic an idea as the images from 01/06/21, what if the Federal Government decided to halt its obsequious sycophantry to corporate America and ‘elites’ and instead actually, seriously, emphatically reinvested in the heartland, in Main Street, in the working class? Wouldn’t it be ironic if a little more socialism was truly the cure these hatemongers require?

6.

Maybe we should step back and listen to the wisdom of George W. Bush.

Confronting what was at the time the most disheartening terror attack on the homeland, Bush made clear not all who could otherwise be lumped in with the terrorists were terrorists. In the same way that, yes, not all Trump voters are Trump Terrorists.

Even so. Bush made it clear you needed to pick a side.

With us - toward a diverse future in which the promise of the Founders is emboldened and expanded for all who live between our shores. Or against us - back to your stunted hovels and holes with all the other low information troglodytes you like to cosplay revolution with.  

Choose.

It’s your call. But choose quickly, because history is watching, and only one path moves toward the future.

C. R. Stapor Longmont, CO 01/16/21

[thelordstears]

Hohohoho- did this mother fucker do some writing? Why of course.

"I want you to live and die in the same breath, and so with a revolver glistening silver underneath your childhood home I will make the bullet the breath you breathe."  - Caldvain Lucelo

"My name tastes like a hungry tiger on my fucking tongue." - Vokard Killjaw

"The only thing money buys you is enemies." - Myles Catsenberg

"People in power like to step into the shoes of the weak just to see how best to break them. And I swear as I stared into the eyes of that living, breathing embodiment of everything that's wrong with humanity, I could feel miles that weren't my own being walked in boots I recognize." - Gerard Bronko

"The shadows, they dance, my friend. In the dark they sway, in the light they wither, it's a serenade melody of shadow and decay." - Ruvickza Havinsaw

"I dance with death as if she were a pretty woman, but soon as she steps cold heel on my toes, I'll succumb to the cold waters of this darkness I'm drowning in." - Jared Ashes

"I don't think the forbidden fruit was ever, an apple sitting in the tree. It was always a metaphor. We all have our own forbidden fruit. For some it's lust, desire, greed. For others it's murder. But it was always a bit more specific with me. My forbidden fruit sits like a rotting orchard in my chest, whispering to me all the secrets that killed me." - Exton Varkno

"I traded my life for violence the day I stepped into a battlefield, bullets between my teeth and gunpowder in my lungs." - Dust Tilvain

"There's something dark, brewing inside of me and it stems from the cruelty that hunts me with knives of shadow and sin. I can't tell whether or not I'll come out the other side of this battle me, cause soon as that blade swings through the air and crimson smiles haunt my mind, I know that I won't be Jolt Netz. My tombstone would be etched with infamous names and killer's identities." - Jolt Netz

"He sits like a bullet on my tongue, tearing into the essence of life with fangs of gold and horror. And as he smiles, you know that it is not of kind nature, but a warning that Hell hath no fury like a scorned devil." - Ruva Buckrein

"They call us damned, they call us cruel and unjust. But darkness lives in the hearts of man, and my friend, all we are doing is returning you to humanity." - Virgillio Kreuten

"There's something cruel about how Heaven dances before the angels who fell. As if it mocks their pain with a pearly white smile filled with angel toothed fangs." - Kristen

"I was a bullet fading memory sitting on the edge of another man's revolver. I'd do anything to get my next fucking hit, my next fucking high. And so I stand here with broken bullets sitting at my boot, wondering if this is the price I payed to become nothing more then a silhouette of who I shoulda been." - Bovako Stillsworth

"I was a pawn, once. But I moved through the white and black checkered board, shifting through identities at rapid speeds. I've been the brook. The knight. The bishop. But as I reached the end of the board, my friend. I said checkmate and became something far more powerful then a King, or a Queen. I became he who controls the board, rolling die as if they were the seers golden strings." - David Faim

"Safety is an illusion, created by society to keep us quiet." - Quentin Satchel

"He's a pale white ghost that sits like a dream in the shadows, and before you know it, my friend, he'll snatch you in his nightmare hungry maw, and all you know will become dark." - Arthur Wellburn

"I stared into eyes mad and unwell, sinking in oceans that were never my own. And as I tripped over my boots, I came to realize these boot-prints were never mine either. I'm just a stranger walking in Cage's skin nowadays, wondering when the fuck I'll be myself." - Cage Azvinka

"Death doesn't taste cold. It doesn't taste of dark things and chaos. Death tastes like the lips of someone you've lost, it tastes of rose petals and lust, of nights spent in each other's arms and worst of all, for some people. Death tastes of love." - Norman O'Driscoll

"You know how it is, we all think we're good people. We all live as if we're the hero in our own fucking comic book, but then you gotta make choices. And none of 'em are favorable. All of 'em end with some form of death, and you get to thinking if this is the new normal, and blood runs red on the mellow streets of innocence. What the fuck does that make a hero but a villain hiding behind his regretful eyes?" - Kyro Bellford

"I stood for nobility, for peace. For something the world could be proud of in the end. But my world fell apart as sinister smiles surrounded me and darkness swooped in on every god don side. What a cruel thing it must be, to fall into the dark when light is right around the corner." - Jenvick Hester

"I am a revolver of secrets and lies. Each chamber holds a bullet, my friend. Dare you step into the firing range of these gunpowder identities that'll cling to you like shivering shadows?" - Caveston Gustello

"This world is fucked up. No wonder I wanted to escape it, right? No wonder I wanted to drift away from reality on wings of cocaine and hallucinations that left me bleeding from the heart. I just don't know why, out of all the things I can't run from, it's the fucking ghost that sits in my memory like a cruel, barking and biting dog. It'll always be there. It'll always remain, there. Because to be rid of the addiction ghost would be to be rid of who I am, too." - Rain Morvosina

"I sit very quiet in my mind, as if I fear even a whisper would shatter the glass of me. I thought, as I held my child in my arms that I had found life blossoming inside of me, for once, finally. I had found it, I had lived. But it was not life I had given to the world, but decadent and starving death. With his reddened teeth and decaying angels, he rips my mind apart with his existence alone. I have committed an awful, dreadful sin. One that can never be forgiven. For I am the mother of evil, and that, is nothing that God can love." - Francine Flowrick

"Reality always crashes down on the weary. It comes for the broken with claws, sharp, rotting things they are, tearing at the fabric of beating hearts and minds that think and remember, that hurt and scar so easily. I've always been the thing that hunts the bad things. The quiet bumps in the dark that haunt childhood minds and whispered madness that haunts the well and lovely of society. I was never really a man, was I? I was always something to be feared by the dark. So does that make me an invisible shadow?" - Mosrvey Vitinbow

"You know how it is. When you see someone that's broken you think you can fix them, you think you can save them from the darkness you'd seen yourself. But she was never broken. She was never something anyone could fix. She was cruel. She was delusional and wicked. And I'd never seen that in someone before. But a young heart had become a decaying one before I even had a chance to watch daisies and roses bloom in her chest. Love never stood a chance with something cruel and animalistic as her." - Moana Steenfield

"They called me something sinister, as if who I am could be defined by words pulled from the darkest poets man kind has ever known. But I was never poetry, I was never something that could be explained. Death came for me with rotting fingers and a smile, and up in flames went the pain. Up in flames went all the horror in my heart. If I wasn't this rotting, dying thing of cruelty and bloodstained lip, who would I be? Perhaps I wouldn't be Bethy, if I wasn't wicked, if I wasn't something mad and quiet. And to be myself, perhaps, is my loveliest sin of all." - Bethy Angelice

"Monsters don't follow a code of any sort. With their fangs of humanity and grins of dark, they sit still like starving vultures, waiting to drag another dead man's soul into the quiet emptiness of their madness. I've met monsters. I've met cruelty. And often I wonder, is it such a cruel sin, to send a beast into the dark from whence he came?" - Ozbey Crocker

"She was broken before the Devil of delusions had ever gotten to her. As if her mind was a paint peeled mansion, creeping at the edge of an abandoned ghost town. I had never met such cruelty in someone so young until she sat at the edge of a boy's bed, hatred and something sinister dancing in eyes pale and lifeless." - Paul Daykos

"He came for me with ashen bone fingers, his eyes dancing with unheavenly delusions. Dark and quiet was the punishment for my madness, for my devilry wrapped in child like horror. He told me that they call us a murder of crows. And what a heavenly thing it must be, to hold black feathers divine beneath your nails, ripping into the threadbare and gentle animalistic nature of the beaked beasts that caw little whispers of death in the sky. What a cruel, decadent beast he was. Sitting at the edge of insanity with his eight ball and shaky ashen bone fingers." - Bethy Angelice

"I ripped my blade from out a dying man's chest, and it was with, some sense of dread and a cruel form of poetry I realized it was my heart on the tip of that blade." - Richarlosse Caldwane

"Ya know, I think we're all just hearts, tryna find our way through the darkness in our ribcage. All it takes is a spark or two of some, curious emotion to light the way." - Markino Ravine

"My tears roll down my cheek like a brand seared into my memory. As if my sorrow is forever with me." - Jimmy Rummers

"I would swallow my grief, but I fear if I were to do so I would consume his memory." - Marvel Felinmote

"The world has no care for girls like me, but since when did that mean I don't get to have any care for someone like me? I battled with my demons until they became my friends, the angels with horns on my shoulder. Isn't it beautiful, to turn your nightmares into dreams with a forgiving smile?" - Emnia Ruzit

"I'm nothing but broken bottle amens spoken too fucking late." - Ash Caesar

"I marched into the battlefield me, but as the shrapnel and gunfire started surroundin' my heart on every side, it felt almost as if, history had begun etching my name away into the oh so infamous name of war." - Carickstan Spellman

"I wade in these depths unfamiliar, quiet madness creeping up the edges of my weed infested skull. This quaint little garden of insanity and unwell morality is mine, I tend to it with dagger like rain, letting the sun set it ablaze as Winter's ice cuts into it as if it were, a fresh cattle on the hook. This mind of mine is a shattered, broken, dying thing. But perhaps more so then ever I fear, that this garden has rotted, like seaweed left too long from out the ocean's waves. I am seafoam madness and coral reef sorrow, sinking into this ocean of who I am, drowning in things I never knew, nor perhaps, ever wanted to see." - Azekiel Gynsello

"I sit on the edge of violence like dark poetry unspoken. I am the ebony crow, soaring through dreams, weaving them into nightmares and shadow." - Everett Beaumont

"I once stood strong, like a soldier on the battlefield, knowing his country would win the war. But as my rifle fell from decaying fingers, clattering to the dirt, I found that hope, is a dead end dream, cause damn brother, the future turns against your promises." - Ramo Bonewitz

"My mother was an empty powder keg, but slowly, ever so slowly she filled herself with gunpowder rage, sinking into the depths of her anger. And as she looked at me, with perhaps, eyes that yearned for something more then the beast she'd become, I stared her back, with eyes she just couldn't love." - Rain Morvosina

"I tap my fingers against a type writer, tip tapping away as my memories are on display, like ink on a page that documents the misery of a man who doesn't know any other life. And as these poems and prose bleed into my fingers through the black letters I touch, I come to wonder if it was wrong of me, to escape reality with a writer's eyes." - Bovako Stillsworth

"My daddy always used to say that hate isn't the majority, they just scream louder then those who fear the stripping of their voice for speaking out against injustice. And he's right, cause as I shiver and shake in the face of someone's anger, I fear the consequences of speaking against violence." - Harmoni Thievesmire

"Regret is a chamber in which I sleep." - Romiro Smilowitz

"There's secrets in your heart. I would suggest casting them from your ribcage so they don't start tumbling from your lip, because if you so much as whisper of the darkness in me rest assured, you'll lose yourself in the span of  a revolver chamber's glistening silver." - Markston Valentine

"You went walking into Hell thinking it was the sun, didn't you? Don't you know beasts look like you? You've been a man of the law, for how long? And you didn't think twice what laid behind my smile?" - Markston Valentine

"To some I'm a death omen, others call me a bad man. Some people look at me as if I were some extant revival of Judas, sticking my knife in the back of justice, but to you, I'm a savior wrapped in the blood of the monster under your fucking bed." - Galio Brute

"I got an army inside this little chamber, and all of my bullet soldiers want you dead." - Galio Brute

"I'd ask forgiveness for killing the man who hurt Marigold, but I don't think Karma much cares for men who sit on the edge of violence with a grin." - Jakoby Fallhurst

"With my heart beat quick and rapid, the pullin' of my trigger came and went in the blink of that soon to be dead man's eyes." - Jakoby Fallhurst

"I used to sit at the edge of a revolver, right on the barrel. And as the gunsmoke wisped around my head, it felt like I had died while I was a livin', but all it took was a single leap of faith ta find myself outside that chamber 'a dead ends and sorrow glimpsed eyes of mirrored fates." - Jakoby Fallhurst

"Who you are is, patches of dead skin clinging to the tips of your fingers, it'll start with the blood drip, dripping from off the feeble hangnails of your identity, dripping away like wax from a candle ever roaring. Your identity will cling to you, but it will decay. Eventually, it'll start falling off in clumps of hair, dripping away from you forevermore, but it shall be ripped from you, like the first layer of your skin." - Mekivalla Brimsburn

"You call me human, but your panic beating heart unravels me as something eldritch in nature." - Mekivalla Brimsburn

"Do I, sit on your tongue like a sorrow danced question? Do I lay in your heart like an edged razor blade, carving little pieces off of who you are with memories of my smile and actions?" - Mekivalla Brimsburn

"I'm a, threadwork illusion, I slink into shadows unseen and appear like a ghost on the wind, sitting idle on cold cases and graves. Wherever I wander death is sure to follow, and as I look to this, field of open graves, I wonder which one is for me." - Morsvey Vitinbow

"He stared at me with a knife like smile, carving my identity from off my back like angel's wings burning in the midnight sky of Heaven. And as he ripped into the threadwork maze of my mind, he told me that he was just the point edge of a razor, carving pieces of me into pieces of him." - Bosko Hallramo

"His mind was a whisper of humanity, but if he had the courage he could've found a victorious shout of it echoing in a healed scar." - Malachi Razor

"Mystery called to me from the shadows of a forest, and as I discovered what the sinister tune's song meant, I felt as if, something started to die deep inside my bones. Like roses blooming from an open grave." - Abram Gothenburg

"My name sits like a dying raven on my tongue." - Hackton Acokliney

"You're stronger then you know, Gynso, it doesn't take shoving bullets in a chamber to find strength. All it takes is to accept your heart as it is, rainbow, decaying or golden. All hearts are equal, but some wither. Don't dig your heart a grave in an attempt to find yourself." - Keller McVito

"Don't you know, I was just like you once? Fighting for the people, bleeding, for the people. But, when push comes to shove sorrow and rage aren't enough to fill an empty chamber of revolution, so you have to put little pieces of you in those bullets, and eventually, you die, Keller." - Godfree Fallows

"In life, we are presented with two choices. Either you shove who you are so far down your throat that not even you, could reach him, or sit down and think, "Who am I?" and as the answer swirls in your mind, accept that, and become a gentle answer, rather then a forever burning question." - Keller McVito

"Her lips tasted like death ripping cold through my throat, her fingers daggers and knives digging into the notches of my spine. But worst of all, her heart tasted like an unholy omen of my death, sitting idle on her bare back." - Father Vorkaine Thorrel

"We aren't stars blinking out of the light, we're human. And with that, comes the capability to fight back, tooth, and bloody knuckle." - Father Vorkaine Thorrel

"It's once you call yourself holy that you realize you never were." - Father Goriah Thorell

"I place a weathered and scarred hand on my broken and damned heart, praying that I die a man I am." - Nathaniel Wessonlock

"Somedays, when I sit and wonder if I was ever really, a good man I feel a tinge of sorrow beat like a fragile rain drop in my heart. And as my mind tells me the blood staining the forest ground is on my hands, I come to wonder if the act of not noticing, the act of inaction and the act of cowardice, is perhaps more damning then pulling the trigger." - Bart Vanstick

"I don't believe in Karma, justice or anything like that. Those things have never worked in the favor of man, but what I do believe in is my pistol and the will to kill." - Nial Mooranan

"You've poisoned the river's in me, you stripped me screaming from who I am. And I have no fucking problem doing the same to you." - Nial Mooranan

"I'd watch your back, from here on out. There's serpents and vipers in the grass, and your heart is starting to look like a feast." - Sirius Mortales

"I'm a very powerful man, I'm practically a ghost, Ramo. I can be anywhere at any given time in many different vessels, I have eyes in the shadows of Evergreen's Bay. And you, my friend, have been ensnared in death's cold, hungry and starving maw." - Quentin Satchel

"You'd best know I hold a deadly grudge." - Quentin Satchel

"Underneath the shadows of foreign ravens and darkness blotting the cloud's of my heart, I fell, like a decaying angel in the night sky. And humanity called me a beautiful shooting star, and as they wished upon my burning hubris and wax, it was death and a curse they'd receive for wishing on shadows and dying angels." - Mallonzi Heckzen

"There were castles in his bones, pillars that held up his marble floor strength." - Abram Gothenburg

"You, are a dying question, you have no answer ricocheting in those mad bones of yours. And as you choke on your blood, it is insanity and a lack of humanity you'll taste on your teeth." - Ashvallio Bradburry

"That's what I want, don't you see! I don't want, to be human, it caused me such, aching pain, to be man. So with a howl and death in my throat I became something less then that. Something greater, then that." - Burns Mataugh

"I'm king 'a this hill, my throne is secured by my hammer and wit alone, and this hill is littered with the bones of those who tried ta push me. Dare you become bones?" - Shawn Werdesltein

"It was always humanity, that turned men to phantoms. Or the lack thereof." - Crow Sandelfreicks

"I've died, really. You can etch a stone with my forgotten name and seek whispers in the soils of my heart, but deep down, you'll see the bones of decay and raven beaks, wondering why such a merciful man's ribcage is stained with gunmetal and blood." - Crow Sandelfreicks

"You have come to the place saint's go to arise from their feeble skin, and out crawls the sinner hidden deep within the ribcage of hollow bone." - Farquad Debellio

"You've made a merciful man's heart beat with murder." - Crow Sandelfreicks

"In my brother's eyes, I saw shadows he didn't want, in his heart, though, I saw scars bleeding from a broken man's chest. And with some, sad sense of joy, I felt as if I needed to be his hero, for all my life, he's been mine." - Monica Hallmoore

"They called me a shadow, and as I first slipped into the dark, it became a truth sliding from their snake tongues." - Morello Hallmoore

"You will die, decaying like a gentle rose in my garden of withering willow trees, and by the end your petals will be black, your thorns will be covered in crimson pieces of yourself. Dare I say, you'll die a reflection of me?" - Allinza Harzvi

"I met death underneath decaying streetlight, and what a regretful thing it must be, to hold a scythe for something other than harvesting crop." - Greendale Moonwalk

"I, am a killer. A thief of life, and if you want to stop me from grasping at revenge with decaying and moss covered fingers, you will have to kill me." - Porter Blackburn

"To kill a monster you must become one! You can't hide in shadows as if you were a torch, no. You have to be an empty nebula." - Porter Blackburn

"I sit here, decaying in a broken chest, wondering if perhaps it is the sanity that rotted from my corpse." - Ebenezer Vanderholts

"My heart lays on the gallows, blackened and decaying. And the only thing I can ever do is watch the ghosts of my past let it swing." - Mirnivia

"I sing a tune on this three stringed lute, and all the damned beasts of Hell come running, thinking my song of salvation." - Serven Grimes

"Oh I didn't stand a chance in the hallways of sanity and peace, brother. But in this place of decaying laughter, I'm home." - Farquad Debellio

"I lost my mind in the echoes of the sinner's steeple, and as I stumbled blind towards salvation, echoing like a grin in the night, I knew that perhaps, to have no mind was a fate not much unlike death." - Farquad Debellio

"A heart unwell can't be revived, I fear. It can be risen from the dead, but in a sense it will always lurk with a sinister scent of death beating like sick blood in veins dying." - Draven Scotchfuel

"Thing is, I can't remember everyone I've killed. You're just a cold case to me brother." - Ewan Hanstammer

"When you become skin and bone, heart falling from your decaying chest, what do you do? Sometimes I wonder if I should shut off the lights of my flickering mercy, but other days I wonder if all in all, I'm the wick of a dying candle, doomed to fade away with the gust of hurricane rage brewing inside my cracked ribcage." - Harvano Axtortley

"Emotions are liars and bastards Clive, listen to them at your own risk." - Sandro Colorfeid

"In the foreign call of the ravens and crows I find not death omens, but squawks and signals that I am alive. I am breathing, and as the wolf howls to the moon, I know it is not my blood on his muzzle, but the blood of cruelty in the flecks of grey and brown." - Harmania Ackwallow

"I sat in a Church, feeling far off from God, miles away from salvation. And as that silver cross dangled like, faltering faith in the night sky, I knew that perhaps, the worst sin of all is to watch an angel fall." - Genesis Contritum

"You won't find salvation in that town, brother, you'll find four sin clad devils, and brother, I'm only the first mile on the highway to Hell." - Allinza Harzvi

"Sometimes, who we are isn't determined by our choices. Rather it's found in the echoes of someone else's cruel, wicked pieces of fate." - Tabbi Mariwitch

"You can't be the good guy in this place, it reeks of the death of minds and sanity alike. So you have to blend in, study the behavior of the unwell. Become, the unwell. In this place, being yourself is a suicidal act." - Ashvallio Bradburry

"You really think you know this place? There's madness creeping up every corner, girl, and if you wish to survive in this land of shadows, I'd suggest becoming one." - Ashvallio Bradburry

"You should fear the man with no identity, for he will change in the blink of an eye just to watch you fall." - Arthur Wellburn

"You can't just, look me in the eye and find your reflection. You'll find madness, you'll find flicks of love and pieces of grace left behind in your murderous stride." - Arthur Wellburn

"If this life I've lived is Hell, then his hand on my cheek or lips against mine must be what Heaven tastes like." - Annamarie Ghostwallow

"It feels as though, I have died while living. I wander white walls etched in the scars of the unwell, scratching at the confines of a skull that has a hard time containing a mind such as mine, and as I find myself shackled to a past that feels like a ghost following me, I know that perhaps, this is not life, but God's personalized Hell for a girl like me." - Annamarie Ghostwallow

"I once met a man in the shadows of pine trees and lights that flickered in his presence, and as he kneeled to my level and whispered that I was doomed, it was like a promise had seared like a brand in my mind." - Kurt Esterly

"He stood over me, with claws in the shape of human fingers and told me death yearned for the gentle souls rocking back and forth in the decadent night. And as he swooped down like a vulture decaying, I knew that he'd given me a grave without once digging talons into my flesh." - Melessia Maeson

"It was a gentle decay, the funeral of me." - Iresa Ramstead

"Beg for mercy child, get on your knees and wail to the Heavens divine that you may be spared of my wicked blade, but God was never listening to you, was he?" - The Begotten Wolf King

"Ya can't lose, life. You can't exactly win it neither, life can only ever be lived, really, but some people stare at ya with champion's eyes and hunger for something grand, and those are the kinda people who become wolves. Whom become something a little less than human." - Dixie Spindrift

"It is almost as if, when I look in the mirror I can see every single life flashing in my pupils like a threadwork book of memories and pieces of me I'll never truly hold. But perhaps the greatest tragedy of all, is watching as mercy crumbles in the heart of a kingdom of rust." - Delvina Sunset

"You can't just live life in the slums of your sorrow, you gotta let people reach down and give you a helping hand when all seems lost. Don't let the cruelty get to ya, more often then not, it's a shadow, and the sun will watch it wither." - Morgerra Kent

"They told me it would be wonderful, to rise with strength and gunmetal in my bones. But as I pulled a trigger against a criminal's skull, the concrete pooling red with pieces of my mercy, I knew, that they'd lied. Because this isn't strength in me, it's a cruel sense of power that doesn't leave a single soul the same as he was." - Nolan Walkenstein

"I feel as if, I faded away from myself. It wasn't a single violent action, I was not ripped away from this person I am, but rather, soft gusts of wind came on by and with it, left little pieces of me. And eventually, as the hurricane rolled on by, there was nothing left." - Vaughn Bonevarrow

"We were both, black roses, decayin' in some, odd way. But I feel as if, when our petals danced across each other's stems, that perhaps, tinges of red started takin' over the garden of our hearts." - Sandro Colorfeid

"I imagine we too, 'ave become monsters. Even if it weren't our intention." - Jasper Pollymore

"My mind is nothing but cobwebs and dust, barren of any spider to tell me how the silk was spun." - Pam Maywood

"I will stand before you, blade washed in your dreams." - The Begotten Wolf King

"As my father told me of the family name's curse, to bare burns of a torch they'd never hold and he said to me, "Daughter, you run from this home, it's a decaying matter of flesh and flickering torches." And as I told him he's my hero, and regret flickered in his hazel brown eyes, I ran from a heritage that never should've been my own, praying that my father escaped cruelties shadow." - Gwenda Malrosa

"Like bombs fading in the night sky, the boy I raised became nothing but sizzling cinders of explosive horror." - Aphrodite Bonstellos

"In the essence of life and death they whisper, "You are free, sinner's child, fly free like the dove holding parsley in his beak and bring forth a new era of peace." But peace was an illusion, built by the powerful and cruel, and so as I stare into the ever flickering eyes of chaos and sacrifice, I shall hold not parsley and peace in my beak, but threadbare and dying secrets in my bloodied maw." - Unknown McDonaghue

"No matter how many devils climb upon my shoulder, I will make sure they wither with the howling snarl of my rifle." - Espifanio Vanderhoof

"I look at history with the eyes of a warrior, and I know it can't have been easy, to die for causes not much unlike the one I find myself in now. But as I let my past flow through me like strength in my veins, I know I won't die a nobody." - Callenmire Bloodfire

"You can't just stand above peace like this, chaos ain't supposed ta be fair, love ain't sposed ta be this fantasy we can't ever god damn reach. But you sit here, with a grin of steel and bullets and tell me that peace is a fuckin' shadow." - Carleton Kazelstoh

"It always has been, it fades when the night comes down on us weary bastards of the dead world. So why the ever living fuck, would I call peace a friend when she leaves me every time the sun sinks?" - Estus Hunters

"My brother's mercy died in a bed of roses and slick cards, and if he were to stand above me with a razor edged blade, would he revive his mercy, or let it fade in the crimson flash of my death?" - Farstead Newton

"My heart beats sick with the dying cries of wicked bastards who threaten a dynasty pure and mighty. But I shalt not let this heart of mine fall threat to the decaying sense of shadow in the darkness' grin." - Brovalla Bladestone

"When the world threatens to tear who you are away from your bones stand strong and tall, for you will build a new identity from the strength it took to crumble." - Missouri Jolana

"The Devil whispered in my ear, "Succumb, broken child of the graveyard town filled with hollow secrets." But an angel in me told me that no man should find his grave etched with a name that is his own before he lays beneath it." - Scythas Hoffs

"As death drifts like smoke on the wind, spilling from the cigarette between my lips and I breathe in the essence of the huntsman's woods with a wicked grin creeping up my lip like a crease in paper folded by untethered hands, I know that this origami dove has become a wolf of paper and crimson claws." - Morias Doorvensteil

"I stick a match stick between my teeth and call it fangs of explosive nature. But alas, all I do is burn my tongue on bitter beliefs." - Varzol Rothschild

"A sense of belief is only useful when faced with wonder, I have found. For when faced with grotesque horror, belief will find you dead at the bottom of a dead man's loaded gun." - Byron Javellanos

"My heart were never a place I could call home, for as it clambered at me with angry claws and a maw of dagger like fangs I came to realize in the midst of all my hurt and pain, oh I wasn't me, but a threadwork beast made up of patches of sorrow and little pockets of memories. I ain't me, but maybe, I really fuckin' shouldn't be." - Gaston Mckinlay

"You know, dad, I don't think the gunfire makes you who you are. I think the gunfire and smoke builds broken pieces of who you are, but the regret, the love and the joy beating inside your chest is what makes you a soldier." - Liam Holwane

"It lays fresh in my mind, like fish reeled in too early, and I can't help but think I'm a bad man. Perhaps the war cheats in whispers, but if you call me your hero, son, I will accept a cape 'round my shoulders." - Brett Holwane

"My father once told me that the gunfire smoke blinds the vision of morality in soldier's eyes. And I get to wondering if with all this cigarette smoke and shadow blinding me, if it'd be wrong to deem myself a moral man." - Liam Holwane

"No one was there for me until I heard quiet whispers in the flowers others would've chosen to crush for speaking of truths in quiet." - Benjamin Diggory

"They called me a rose pin grenade, and with regret I showed them my shrapnel." - Hallana Ragecue

"My heart wilted away as a ghost I know all too well lingers over my shadow, frail and gentle like the flower of hearts and roses he was." - Harlene Ballendger

"I can taste war dyin' bitter on my tongue, and as I place a weathered hand over my old sailor's cap, breathing in fresh ocean air and dying poems of people long gone, I get to wondering if the war is over, why do I still tremble in the presence of the past? Perhaps all war ever was is a ghost, sitting lonely on soldier's shoulders." - Stickzen Myadro

"In this world I have learned two things. You have to kill who you are to survive, and living and breathing are not the same thing, so as I pulled the trigger of my identity and died a woman I am not, I started living, breathing in the essence of death on a sunny day." - Minzina Strumvell

"She's dying lights in my head, dancing in the monotony of my grey splashed canvas." - Helzano Borvenkayer

"Humanity is just one big fuck up on God's part.” - Darlo Vanishpoi

“ This world is just, a crushing coffin that lays heavy on my chest, with an annoyed sigh I rise in the morning knowing that today is just another cigarette hazed Monday, a booze infested morning. “ - Darlo Vanishpoi

“ Is that all God is? A beast of many colors breaking his creations out of rage and disappointment?” - Darlo Vanishpoi

“ Truthfully, I'm trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel. But it looks oddly familiar, you know? And as I squint to see better in the darkness I'm surrounded by on the daily, I come to realize the light is just the spark of another cigarette, and like a moth, I trot towards the buzzing lights as if they wouldn't god damn kill me. Guess that's all broken men are, moths, drawn to the hazed and dancing lights of another forlorn day." - Darlo Vanishpoi

“ Sweet dreams, my friend, are nothing more then an illusion spun by the mind, and as you drift to the land between dreaming and reality, remember, that nightmares have always been a twisted version of reality, and so they hold some, sinister sense of truth behind their monsters and hallways full of mirrored images of who you're not. “ - Ghost Shiv

“ Don't you find it peculiar, how we call humanity beasts and animals because they spill the blood of their own kind? But tell me one predator that hunts its own kind. Tell me one species in this universe, besides human, that will rip its own kind to shreds because they felt like it. You'll find that humanity is the darkest kind of animal to roam the planet, and with my empty smile, I seek to prove it. “ - Ghost Shiv

“ Someone I know once told me that the broken have to stick together, and, that's such a peculiar thought. Because as soon as a mirror drops to the concrete, the glass pieces scatter away from one another." - Ghost Shiv

“ I was born in a world of shadow, sitting at a long table of bones and roses, and as I scarfed down every meal of death I could find life gave me a scythe in which I could reap with. “ - Clementine Ashburnum

“ Violence for violence is the rule of beasts, they say. But I say violence for violence has always been the rule of humanity, for we were never much good at hiding our fangs, where we?” - Clementine Ashburnum

“ I was born to rule this land of shadow and bone, and so I sit atop my throne of violence and thank the beasts for swallowing me whole. “ - Clementine Ashburnum

“The world doth not spin kindly. It thrashes like a violent wave and fills the ship of humanity with cold, black water, firing cannons into the mast and oak wood of our boat. And so the storm destroys what is left of humanity, and thus we become beasts.” - Clementine Ashburnum

“ I've been kicked down and broken my whole life, choking on things that shouldn't exist, my pops always told me that we'll make it through another day. We just gotta go day by day, we just gotta get our minds through another damn week. And I say sorry to the clouds that he didn't damn well make it, cause as I lay roses at his grave tears roll like anger from my cheek and I clench my damn fist. Cause life just ain't fair, is it?” - Arnoldo Hungaris

“ Some people are born in Hell, and there's no way out of the flame. “ - Arnoldo Hungaris

“ All my life I've just wanted to be a somebody, but the day I was born the world looked down on me with a cruel grin and said that I just weren't born to be someone. So I picked up pieces of identity off the gravel road I'd been travelin' and played myself a game of identity roulette, never knowing who the fuck I'd be with the next pullin' of my dead man's trigger. “ - Arnoldo Hungaris

“ You ever feel as though your sense of self is dyin', witherin' away inta something that just don't god damn exist any longer? Cause this person I am has been fadin' from me for a long forty five years, and I'm just tryna catch the little pieces 'a identity as they flitter away like cinders in the damn breeze. “ - Dante Dunbar

“ My son looks ta me with sorrowed eyes and my daughter looks at me with wonder and joy, tellin' me I'm a good man. I'm the best go don' father she ever could'a had. But there's secrets sitting idle on my breath, but they don't ever leap from off my tongue, cuz I'm scared 'a what'll happen when all my darkness tumbles out from this box of pain I've shoved it in. It beats against the cage of pinewood and chain, roaring a melody of violence swearin' up and down that when it gets out I'm fucked and there ain't nuthin' I can do 'bout it. And I start ta believe the dark and toxic thoughts.” - Dante Dunbar

“ I grew up fast brother, and I didn't quite grow up so kind. So as I tell you I'm a bad man with regrets, don't you praise me without knowin' what them deadly sins is. “ - Dante Dunbar

“ Sometimes life will damn you to a fate so cruel and demented that you don't really come to figure kindness exists. Every eye seems like a stalker's gaze, every word feels like a lie off a tongue of silver, but some people are good, I've come to learn. “ - Clover Delecroix

“ I'm just a man trying his hardest to survive in this fucked up world, but my life was stripped from me so fast by four Devils who claimed themselves unwell and cruel. And as they came for me with insanity riddled grins and monster filled eyes, I came to realize that monsters will always wear the skin of man, because it's the easiest way to blend in, man. “ - Clifton Arslania

“ Ya know, my mom used to say that the kindest angels make the cruelest demons, and as I look to my scarred and weathered hands I get to wondering if I was an angel, once upon a time. But my halo's starting to grow horns and my wings are falling off my back feather by feather, and in the end, I'm just gonna be another man who let his demons take over the house in his head. “ - Clifton Arslania

“ I was just a kid when my whole world fell apart, and now I'm six feet from the edge of my fate, and I'm starting to wonder if it would be such a long fall. “ - Clifton Arslania

“ I can still remember her laugh, the way she'd fight back a smile when I told her how proud I was. She was a rebellious kid with trouble in her heart but hope in her smile, and without her.. I fear all I am is trouble and cigarette smoke, holding onto memories I swear I'll never forget. But these memories start to slowly fade, as if an eraser strikes at them, little pieces of them drifting away. I begin to forget what her laugh sounded like. I begin to forget the way her smile danced, or how she'd show me these, stupid, fucking internet things I never understood. Or how she told me all about the boy she liked, how she even thought that, she might have a future with him. But the future was ripped from her like a shadow, and I fear, with her future I too, was lost. “ - Darlita Romilez

“ My name tastes like a bitter drug on my tongue.” - Darlita Romilez

"I met a man full of ghosts in the haunted streets of my hometown, and as he rose specters from the grave of secrets and lies, I came to realize why people fear the dark. It isn't because of the shadows, but what owns said shadows, what lurks alongside, said shadows. You see, there's always going to be monsters hiding in the dark crevices of humanity, and they'll always say that the light is their domain and us kind hearted saints have taken it forcefully from their clawed hands. But monsters lie, my friend. It is only monster nature for them to smile with blood in their teeth, for as soon as a man spills blood for his own self gain, he becomes something very much less than human. “ - Fred Douglass

“ My heart is an old one, it has been since I turned thirteen and spilled my secrets from a chipped tea cup, my parents using the single shard of glass to try and cut the truth from out my rainbow heart. But they never could. Because the truth, it doth not die. “ - Fred Douglass

“ I heard once that the truth is like a lion, let it go, it will defend itself. And this, is very well true. But lies are like cowering, frightened little crows, and soon as you throw a stone their way they squawk and caw, fleeing like a deer from a wildfire.” - Fred Douglass

“ I'll raise my revolver to the misery and pull the trigger, because a man who has something to fight for is always gonna be stronger than the man who has nothing left to die for. “ - Sav Gothenburg

“ Life, in all of its sorrow, is a story, we gotta read every chapter of our life. No skimming. No skipping pages because the pain is too much to bare. We gotta let our story be complete. Sometimes the ink will warp and twist into blood and bone, but we gotta pick up the quill and write a story that ain't all that bad. “ - Sav Gothenburg

“ I've always been an odd girl, chasing shadows because they intrigued me or finding warmth in the cold pale glow of the moon. “ - Claire Orwell

“ I'm just a tragedy away from fading away into the night from whence I came.” - Claire Orwell

“ I'm afraid of the dark because it's where I've resided all my life.” - Claire Orwell

“I was not loved as a child. I can still hear booming shouts that forced me to hide away from reality, I can still feel the broken bottles against my cheek, or the way my covers felt like a safe haven away from all the rage inside my childhood home. But I hath no covers to hide under to escape my mind.” - Claire Orwell

“ I'm just a girl of trouble wondering where the hell the light at the end of her tunnel has gone, cause I keep tripping on barbed wire and regret, wondering if any cars will catch me on my way to salvation. “ - Christie Shadow

“ I met a man at the edge of the streetlights, he sparked up a cigarette, tattoos flickering in the orange glow like scars of battle, and he told me that he could give me an opportunity to be someone. To actually matter. And with a foolish smile, I followed him, like the deer who didn't mind the bloodstains on the wolf's maw. “ - Christie Shadow

“ You know, I always just wanted to be somebody. I wanted to live a life I could be proud'a, but when you're born on the streets with a mother who doesn't care and a father who left a long time ago, you don't much get that chance. She was just a drugged up ghost, sitting on the edge of her deathbed with red eyes and a smile. So I followed a path that I thought would be my one way ticket out of Hell. But the cruel men always hid paradise behind their smiles, huh?” - Christie Shadow

“ I tried to pick up a dagger and toss it at my misery, but it always sinks into my peace like fangs of cruelty, chipping pieces of me away with the edge of a scalpel. “ - Christie Shadow

“ People are always trying to say that humanity is inherently wicked, but that was never true. I've seen the kindness in men's hearts, but I've also seen the wickedness that flows like death in the veins of a man who called himself a wicked and lean vulture sitting atop the Church to consume the flesh of the saintly and good hearted.” - Chester Bronkzeim

“ My identity is like wallpaper from an old mansion, sometimes it peels away, it cracks and starts to show the true colors of who I am. And there's a secret or two in my walls.” - Chester Bronkzeim

“He grins, the blood of my identity on his fucking teeth.” - Chester Bronkzeim

"Don't you understand, the beasts have always been hiding in the public eye? They look like your every day people. They smile. They laugh. But don't you dare trust the bad man's grin, it's filled with broken promises and hearts he's stopped on a fucking whim. “ - Leo Griggs

“ They've always praised the wolves with blood on their fucking teeth, so I just learned to blend in with the crowd and flash a crimson stained smile to the crowd. Woops and cheers from society sound like a melody of violence to the powerful.” - Leo Griggs

“ My ribcage has always looked like the open doors of a slaughterhouse.” - Leo Griggs

“I stand like a death omen, sitting atop the old graveyard of saints, laughing at the way they've been buried underneath my fucking power.” - Charlie Griggs

“ Why would I be kind, when I could be powerful? “ - Charlie Griggs

“ True power does not come from kindness, my friend. Take a look at the fucking history books won'tcha? Nothing was ever done without a little multitude of violence and sin. Wanna free the slaves? You're gonna have to take up arms and spill some blood for the cause. Violence is the foundation on which humanity stands, has been ever since Cain struck down Abel, and in my eyes, it always will, be the foundation on which we stand.” - Charlie Griggs

“ Humanity is a tapestry of the Devil's dreams, and damn, if I ain't a testament to all the lord tried to condemn. “ - Charlie Griggs

“ When I first stood with blood on my hands and murder in my black heart, I knew that who I am had died a heart wrenching death. He choked on the same bullet as the man who laid dead at my fucking feet.” - Charlie Griggs

“ This world's not kind to those who live by the code of honor and kindness, but you can't let this beat you down. You can't let this kill ya. Or else the world will become a graveyard of dreamers who gave up. “ - Gavin Rustington

“ Most of those who fall subscribe to the ideology that others deserve the fall with 'em, so they reach claws from out the depths of their misery and pull others down with them. This creates a perpetual cycle of violence and death. Don't dare swallow the idea that your pain is a violent raging melody that everyone deserves to hear sung so darkly into the night.” - Gavin Rustington

“ Not all villains were angels, but not all Devils are cruel, and not all angels are kind. The world's just not so black and white." - Gavin Rustington

“ My heart beats a melody of rage and cruelty sinkin' inta the miserable depths of my revenge, and as the flames flicker in my eyes, I feel like a reflection of the tragedies that broke me down ta a vengeance driven beast, sippin' on blood red streams as if they were clear. “ - Vokard Killjaw

“ Brother, there's blood on my cold teeth and some sense of decay lurkin' in my jaw, so as I smile and my fangs start a rottin', you best know that life took this whole boy and turned him inta an arson lullaby, bitin' down on bullets etched with a name all too familiar. “ - Vokard Killjaw

“ I met death in the flickerin' flames of Hell and with a silver drenched smile he told me tragedy lurked in the veins of all whom seek a higher purpose. And as I cut open my wrists, tragedy mixed in with my blood, my vision blurrin' with delusions of peace, I found that rage tastes like my name on my tongue, and death tastes like mercy on the teeth of the vengeful. “ - Vokard Killjaw

“ I struck out at the young age 'a thirteen, choking on my halo of dust and decadent stars, prayin' ta the lord that he'd save me from the Devil that wore my father's eyes. But he never did. God don't listen ta the broken, he watches 'em fall, he watches 'em stumble through thorns and blackberry bushes, but he don't ever give a helpin' hand, do he? Cuz I sit here in my corner of nowhere and drink myself a quiet hummed lullaby of whiskey regrets and cigarette stained memories, wondering how the Hell I became my father. “ - Denzel Thievesmire

“ I'd say sorry for what I done, but it won't change a damn thing, it won't bring together the hearts I broke, it won't heal the scars I etched, so I let fate take me on down ta the river in which I may drown in my sins.” - Denzel Thievesmire

“ My sister once told me that life is a colored blade, and depending on how true our heart is, the blood will be a different color. So I gotsa wonder why black blood drips from the blade of life as it etches me with scars of my human nature.” - Denzel Thievesmire

“ I didn't want trouble, but brother, trouble wanted me.” - Denzel Thievesmire

“ The man who raised me was a shadow in the daylight, standing above who I could be with a scythe, willing to reap my identity from me as soon as I found out who I am. And I always accepted that, because I had never known any other life. But as Olly danced his fingers across my cheek and told me that freedom is not a house of four walls and staying shackled to a single place, I knew that, maybe I could finally be somebody. Maybe I could finally be me.” - Stenlana Borswell

“ I'd read of romance in so many novels, envying the girls and boys who found a happily ever after at the end of their story. I was jealous of fiction because I had never really lived in reality. But as soon as his lips pressed against mine, my heart started to beat with colors it had never seen, as if our love was a tapestry of what could be, and what would be. I found love in front of me, and I couldn't just let it escape. So with courage in my heart I ripped myself free from cruelties shadow, soaring on pale white wings of bravery and identity I'd never known. “ - Stenlana Borswell

“ Hate, my friend, is as old as time. But so is love. “ - Celdvel Creitz

“I strap this old hat to my head and strike a match, creating a spark of revolution in the air of cruelty and division.” - Celdvel Creitz

“ I reserve my hate for those who stand above peace like shadow lickin' flames, sittin' at the edge of a cruel man's revolver swearing up and down, this is the only damn way. There's wolves hidin' in the shadows of the revolution, and brother, they blend in with the sheep, they always will. Cause monsters always shared human qualities.” - Celdvel Creitz

“ My life hasn't been a kind one, I'm shotgun shells and violence on the cold shore of peace, and as I stumble blindly on a path that was never truly my own, I come to realize that a man who's seen violence will never be the same. Any man with blood on his hands will never be an angel, after all, we're human, we're fragile and kind, decaying as we walk towards another day with hearts of violent tendencies.” - Cavinsta Tilvain

“ It is as if my mind works in agony, slaving away at a factory, spewing out toxic thoughts and packaging them to deliver to my fragile heart, as if my mind is an overworked employee, enraged by the conditions in which he is worked.” - Cavinsta Tilvain

“ Since our minds were starving, they devoured themselves in search of a meal.” - Cavinsta Tilvain

“ I'm not a fighter, I'm a killer. There's such a fine difference in that. A fighter raises a fist or two for what he loves, a killer raises a revolver in search of another day, praying that he'll survive this murder of self. But he never does, hm? “ - Cavinsta Tilvain

“ I just wanted to see my sons grow up and be strong, capable young men. But the past follows us close, and no matter how many miles we run, its always that much faster, gripping our scars with razor sharp claws, carrying us away with fangs we recognize. Cause we've been bitten by them before. “ - Cathleen Colt

“A shadow is only as dark as he who walks alongside it.” - Cathleen Colt

“ I'm scratched up and fucked in the head looking for a way out of this maze of memories and shadows, but I'm always finding dead ends, man. And I fear I always will. Because sorrow doesn't let the kind girl go, it holds her down and rips the tears from her cheeks with blood dripping fangs, holding her still, holding her down forevermore. Licking pieces off of you with a razor sharp tongue, and as you weep, she always collects your tears. “ - Carvoxi Crickenmow

“ I stand still, frozen by the fear and sorrow, and every single time I take a step, the beast in me stirs, as if awoken by the sound of my foot shuffling against concrete. “ - Carvoxi Crinckenmow

“ What a sorrowful thing it is, to hold onto the memories that killed me because they're all I have left. “ - Carvoxi Crickenmow

“ Chance, I have learned, is everything. “ - David Faim

“ Think of life like a game of Russian roulette. We all have different chambers. We all have a different amount of bullets. It's up to us when we pull the trigger. So I sat in my quiet office, picking at the fabrics of my heart, and with a sigh I put the revolver under my chin. And with one action colors burst from my skull, pieces of me splattered against the white walls in red and grey, and as I slumped against an old chair, who I am died. And who I am would stay that way. I had always been lost, ever since that fateful Christmas Eve, clutching to the pieces of me I wished I could keep, uttering the same word over and over again, as if I were some distorted echo. "Why?" I cried. "Why?" I screamed. "Why?" I whispered. But answers never came for the weary ghost of David Faim. “ - David Faim

“ Chance doesn't care about who you are. It comes for you with greedy fingers that look like golden bullets, and as it digs into your mind it searches for misery, and if it can't find any. Well rest assured it will make some with gunpowder and regret. “ - David Faim

“ There was a locked door where life was supposed to be, my friend, and death was the key that'd always been hidden in plain sight. “ - Ioza Ragmathora

“ You can not find me in the Heavens nor below in the fiery depths of Hell, for I am a being so dark and twisted that the world doth not give me damnation or salvation. For I would corrupt both. “ - Ioza Ragmathora

“ I chose violence over peace because it gave me a chance to live. “ - Ioza Ragmathora

“ I sit like a whisper in my mind, decaying like a rose in the Winter, stem and thorn falling apart as the breeze drifts past me. I've never been a girl of peace, always did darkness know my name. And the shadows knew that. It's how they tricked me into following the colored lights. Because to a girl who's known darkness her whole life, light of any kind feels like salvation, like grace. Like Heaven. But I found that it was the flames of Hell I had followed, like a doe trotting just behind her mother, finding that it was blood trails she'd been following all along. “ - Kemlia O’Sullrain

“ I have bled so much from my wrists. Humanity. Peace. Joy. Everything that makes me Kemlia O'Sullrain has bled from my veins like a river splashing against the shores of Heaven. “ - Kemlia O’Sullrain

“ There is no peace for the beasts of this circus. We howl, we laugh, we cry. But we do not die. We never do. Which is perhaps the most sorrowful thing, to live in a world that never loved you. That never cared. “ - Kemlia O’Sullrain

“ You know, when you're just an orphan that no one wants, you get to wondering what the fuck your purpose is in this world. And then you get adopted, and you think life will look up. But perfect doesn't last. Not in a world of violence. Not in a world of hate. “ - Wendy Pazcko

“ Justice has never looked so cold in his eyes.” - Wendy Pazcko

“ I prowl underneath the shade like a shada' of violence, sinkin' unholy fangs inta the deer and sheep who think cougars will spare the peaceful. But there's never been a rule 'a violence that didn't kill the good hearted. So I sling a rifle over my shoulder and become the violent. “ - Carter Burningham

“ Ya know, a young girl once told me that I was damned for what I'd done ta her heart, and so I flashed her a yella grin and told her I know, that's why I fuckin' did it. Because I've lived a life chock full 'a sin, so what's one more? What's ten more? Hell, what's another lifetime 'a damnation ta the sinnin' man but paradise? “ - Carter Burningham

“ It is not often, that a soldier can hear the sound of silence.” - Carrick Miles

“ I would never call myself a hero. Because every war has its sides, every soldier has his story, so in turn every man I ever killed had a past, a family. People who loved him or her dearly. And with one bullet, I damned them to a sound of silence and regret, sinking into their skull like gunpowder misery. I'm not a good man, I'm not a hero. So please don't call me one. “ - Carrick Miles

“ I'm a soldier, yes. But a hero? I never could've been. For destiny told me to pull a trigger against my heart, and with a lonesome little sigh and a voice soaked in the tears of angels and saints alike, I pulled back the hammer and said, "Yes sir." - Carrick Miles

“ "When da world kicks ya right in ya bloody snout, you oughta stand tall and mig'y like the oak tree in a garden 'a withering willows. I mean, If ye sit 'round like a lazy bum and say I did all I could, ya're just the butt of a cigarette, sittin' lonely in da fuckin' ash tray. “ - Caldayo Blousey

“ I's learned that love is a war, and often, it's hate that'll shoot ya down like a bird soarin' through the sky, crashin' inta the trees without wings ta guide ya.” - Caldayo Blousey

“ If ya wanna fuck with da Blousey's I suggest turnin' da other way, cause mate, we ain't sheep, we ain't angels, neither. We're dogs, loyal as can be.” - Caldayo Blousey

“ I was just a kid of the streets, running towards destiny with tattered sneakers and a grin so big you'd think it was cut into my cheeks, but that kid died, man. And he's not coming back. “ - Cage Azvinka

“ I'm just a broken nobody in a world that demands I be someone.” - Cage Azvinka

“ It honest to God feels like I'm cursed. By what, I can never god damn tell, maybe it's me, maybe it's something old as time that creeps up my sinner's bones, but whatever this is, people call it reality. They call it destiny, fate, or anything else that excuses them from their actions. “ - Cage Azvinka

"If you wanna find a heart, stop looking in my ribcage. “ - Bone Hungarson

“ I used to feel, it was such a wonderful, beautiful thing. But as I slide razors across my wrist it must be the empathy I'm bleeding from me, all the things that make me human running from out my veins in crimson splotches. “ - Bone Hungarson

“ I wish to control my thoughts, but demons nag at my skull, tearing little pieces of my mind off with a hungry maw and bleeding teeth. So I accept this monster I've become and become friends with the demons that seek to kill me. “ - Bone Hungarson

“ I never wanted to be a gunmetal soldier, but here I am, with a spine of smoke and wildfire, sitting at the edge of war with a pistol and an aim that was earned through the death of others. “ - Gordon Jackson

“ I've fought in countries I can't fucking name, killed men I can hardly remember, and I know they say only the mad man remembers everyone he ever killed. But maybe it's the only way to stay sane. “ - Gordon Jackson

“ That's the regretful thing about life, it tears people away from you that you thought you'd have for a long time.” - Gordon Jackson

“ I sit on the edge of revolution, wondering if I'll have to raise my fists, or a steady revolver.” - Lily Van Velk

“ He's a shadow that's been cast over our town, and so we gotta be the darkness that vanquishes him, we gotta be the dark so that we can find the light. “ - Lily Van Velk

“ My ma didn't raise no fool, she raised a woman who fights her battles with wit and a trusty ol' revolver etched with the family name. I see pieces 'a my ma in my reflection and as I load this chamber with pieces 'a myself, I pray ta every God listenin' that by the end of the war 'gainst peace I'm still me. “ - Harmalene Stagner

“ I am a whisper on the horizon.” - Raimunduss Wolffes

“Having power, and being powerful, are two very different things.” - Raimunduss Wolffes

“ They call me a phantom, a bastard drunk off of power and sin, but in truth, I am drunk off the idea of immortality. The Gods can not create something eternal. For everything withers. Everything dies. But there's little pockets of their Godhood hidden in cracks and corners, and perhaps as I travel the world with my ever steely gaze and strong sense of belief in my goal, that I can change the perception of immortality. “ - Raimunduss Wolffes

“ We're all just trying to find ourselves in a maze of who we're not, shuffling through different identities, wondering when we'll find ourselves in our own damn skin. And as I brushed my fingers against my own cheek, looking at this woman I'd become, I knew that I had finally found the end of the maze. All those dead ends and, I'd finally found home in arms that were my own. “ - Blossomwitz Dakota

“ My identity slips from between my fingers like the river's water, and as I sink into this ocean of black blood, I know that perhaps, I was never an angel, just a devil who didn't know what sin tasted like. “ - Betty Shalfien

“My tears don't change a thing but the hue of the soil.” - Betty Shalfien

“ Life doesn't ever treat people fairly, bad things happen to good people simply because, the world doesn't really operate on what's right or wrong, it doesn't operate on karma or social status. The world just spins while we move with it, and people are always blaming the bad things that happen on the world. But usually the fault is always behind the person who pulled the trigger, or the person who used the knife to cut scars into your fragile heart.” - Barb Riverbrook

“True weakness comes from the black heart.” - Aura Honeybadger

“ It is not often the kind man survives the chilling and calculated wrath of the powerful, cruel one, for as he sticks by his morals and says he'd never stoop to my level, this old and decaying tombstone of mercy swoops down like the guillotine's shadow, cutting his head from off his neck. Who do you think won? The kind man who wouldn't kill? Or the cruel and unmerciful shadow of a man standing above the kind man's grave with ghosts of roses to lay at his forgotten and unmarked grave? “ - Clayton W. Scarrberry

“ I believe that, on that cold Autumn evening I met death dancing under the pale and flickering streetlights, for no one else could truly rip at the seams of mercy like her. No one else could've torn heroism from my heart but her. Death won't always come for you with a scythe, my friend. Sometimes death looks at you with loving, human eyes and steals you away with a cold kiss that feels much like the opposite of life. “ - Clayton W. Scarrberry

“ I'm a hollow secret sitting at the edge of peace, waiting for fools and saints to clamber on by to ask me for advice, and as they hear my words tumble from a lip bruised and silver, they're satisfied, for awhile. But as soon as my words twist and turn into curses, they regret talking to the old raven who knows a thing or two. “ - Royal Hondros

“ I see my daughter look at me with sorrowed eyes, telling me that I'm a bastard, a cheat, a horrible father. And she can bark, bark and bark all she likes, but deep down she must know, she'll never bite. She is no wolf, neither am I. But she likes to think herself one, so I'll sit in quiet anticipation and watch as she riles herself up, until eventually she tires herself out and finds that, to die, does not mean to be buried.” - Royal Hondros

“ Man, I've met a lot of the darkness in this world, most of it in the eyes of a man full of specters and dead railroad ghosts, selling his nightmares to all who wanted to find peace of mind. He's the reason, I've got blood on my fucking hands, and that, man, I just can't forgive. But if I ever could, I'd spill blood again just to watch him fall down his sinner's tracks, caught between the two trains he's ruled by. “ - Mark Bellwitz

“ I've led a life of trouble and cigarette smoke, chasing daydreams and girls when I was just a young gun with his smile wide and bright. But sometimes, life, it pulls the dreamers down to reality and tells them to walk on without their dreams, because life is harsh, it's cruel, and a dreamer can't survive without a little bit of nightmares. So I walk through a valley of nightmares praying that I'm enough to survive, and as Ciri takes my hand I know, maybe I'm not enough to survive on my own, but with her? I've got one helluva fighting chance. “ - Mark Bellwitz

“ I'm just a howl drunk beast, rippin' through the skin 'a Laramie Diamond.” - Laramie Diamond

“ There's two wolves in me, mate. One howls and bites, gnawing at the confines of me skull, crackin' little pieces of me mind on 'is way outta me, but da other is a loyal bugga', sittin' at da edge of wisdom with a song in 'is fur draped heart. And dey say the wolf who'll win is da one ya feed. And so, with a soldier's broken sigh, I pull another trigger and feed da beast in me. “ - Laramie Diamond

“ I'll be honest, somedays I feel lost, somedays I'm wondering in a quaint little maze, walking towards the edge of my sorrow, wondering what it would feel like, to leap into the waters below. But I have people all around me who help me when I'm down, and I think that's a beautiful thing, ya know? Sure, I miss my dad.. a lot, but he'd want me to keep on pushing forward, he'd want me to manage to, move on, not forget, but move on. “ - Aurora Hop

“ I know that perhaps, my father lives in these quaint little mazes of me. I've got a lot left to live for, ya know? Like uncle Ickden and Orin, they've always been heroes, shoving me out the way of danger and brandishing quills and pens like revolvers of truth. And I hope they both know, how much they've helped me. Because when my father vanished in the wind, they built me a new pair of wings and told me to soar, even if the new wings were built from torn off pieces of theirs.” - Aurora Hop

“ I don't wanna be just, some guy, I wanna be Ashton Worthington, the boy who became something. “ - Ashton Worthington

“ Usually what you ponder on will become you, so if you start thinking deeply about yourself, eventually you'll become him, right? Conjure who you are into reality with simple thoughts and deep love for who you are. “ - Ashton Worthington

“ You can't be who you're not, because in the end, that person will rip through you, whether it's a violent matter or not is entirely up to you. “ - Ashton Worthington

“ My sister told me her truths, letting them spill from the gentle river's of her heart, and as I told her I still look up to her, and I always will, I remember her crying a little bit and giving me a big ol' hug. Because she's always been my hero, ya know? She doesn't wear a cape, but she wears fancy gowns and hoods I don't know the name of, and as she smiles wide with that amazing wife of hers, I know that she's a happy, hero. “ - Andrina Prinscella

“ I once stood like a reaper in a field of forgotten graves, sitting as rage dying in an empty chest, pulling the trigger of my revolver because I had something in my fucking chamber, but then, life came along and built me a new pair of wings in the eyes of a man who's troubled but beyond all reason and doubt, loved. His lips taste like redemption, his eyes swim with my peace, and when I hold his hand I know that perhaps, he and I heal each other with little pieces of ourselves. “ - Mary Adler

“ I think it's beautiful, that a hurting soul can become a loved one within the span of a few weeks, a cruel woman like me can find life in the eyes of all she loves within months. “ - Mary Adler

“ I am a question rattling in my throat and dying on my tongue.” - Geras Creek

“ She once, asked me who I am, and, it's such a simple question, but a difficult one to answer.” - Geras Creek

“ Blood that is not my own forms like bruises on my lips.” - Geras Creek

“ I'm road kill sitting on the side of a dead end highway, a deer with it's ribcage ripping through its flesh, and as I rise from this grave of concrete and gravel, I become less and less familiar with my humanity. And one day, my humanity shall flicker and fade away like a candle's flame in a gust of hurricane winds, dripping down the wick like a forgotten secret in the wax. “ - Geras Creek

“ I often wonder what it would be like, to succumb to fantasy, where I could hold my son again, or love the world as it is, but this world isn't beautiful, it's cold and ugly, reminding us humans that we're just a plague infecting the notches of its gentle spine, sitting on its heart like a flower that never should've bloomed. “ - Moonshine

“ I remember the man who killed me, he sits like a poltergeist in my fragile mind, screaming and shouting in empty sins and cruel man's shadow eyes. He once told me that I was nothing but a doll sitting quiet on the shelf, dust and mildew creeping up the edges of my dress as I decayed and rotted with all of God's other forgotten toys. And with a tear glossed cheek, I realize the cruel bastard was right, because I weep myself a lullaby of ponies dancing in a field wishing I could join them. “ - Moonshine

“ My children look at me with mourning eyes, tear glossed and sorrowed, like, glass reflections of my heart. “ - Leonard Bakers

“ I can still remember everything about Kristin, for she sits here in my mind like a ghost I don't wanna expel from this world, you know, I can still see my fingers coiled with her bright orange hair, or how she'd scrunch up her nose to keep her glasses from falling off her cute, pretty and beautiful face. Or how, her eyes told a story, something beautiful and intensely poetic, and as she danced her fingers across my cheek, or pressed her lips against my skin and my bruises, I thought that I had found life in her whispers. But a man tore my love from me, and as she screamed and cried for mercy, God turned his back on the world and left it a quiet whisper. “ - Leonard Bakers

“ Time doesn't heal all wounds, my friend, it just teaches us how to live with scars on our fragile and decaying hearts of gold." - Leonard Bakers

“ I quite often feel as though I am far from myself, sitting like a pale white raven, pecking at the seams of graves he's dug, some are me, some are other people, but either way, these white feathers pale don't reflect my heart. “ - Alejandro Lepo

“ I am like a dying, withering daisy and as the gardener comes to tend to her crop, she would cut me from this bed of soil and mourn for this poor little decaying thing she couldn't save. “ - Alejandro Lepo

“ There's blood on my hands where the empathy used to be.” - Quentin Satchel

“ On a whim I could have, anything I wanted in my hands. I'll admit, I've sinned deviously. Hunted man in the forests of my mansion, gunning young girls down as if they were lions in the deserts of Africa and spilt blood all because, well, I felt like it, really. “ - Quentin Satchel

“ Anyone, could've become me. “ - Quentin Satchel

“ I met death at the young age of ten, watching as blood splattered the halls of my home, a dying cry of mercy ripping through everything I ever knew's throat, and as I sat there in silence, I think something might've broken in me, perhaps it was my purity seeping like crimson omens from my veins. “ - Cavos Von Glorenstein

“ My friend, this world is not so kind, I am a fair example of that.” - Cavos Von Glorenstein

"What do you do when home is a person you've lost? “ - Addison Von Sparrow

“ I remember when I first met him, his bones filled with sorrow scraped scars, his heart rotting like a dying star in his chest, and I felt as if, when I traced my fingers across his bare chest, little pieces of him began to heal, as if he was finally becoming himself. And so I kissed his scars and his bruises, running my hands through his thick hair as I loved him without regret, without a drip of doubt. And as he held me in his arms and kissed my cheek with lips fraught with troubled sins and shadows, I knew that love was always beautiful, and it always will be. “ - Addison Von Sparrow

“ My childhood home reeked of death and gunmetal smoke, old whiskey stain sins hiding in the breath of my father, and as my heart was torn from me kickin' and screaming, I came ta learn that it's a lot better, to die while breathing then to live your whole life powerless. “ - Sarvel Humington

“ I was just a weak lil boy in the streets of war, but I met a woman on the edge of mercy's spine, wicked and tall she stood, monsters fangs hidin' 'neath her gums, and she told me I could be a King of the streets, patrollin' the Devil's country with a backbone of gunmetal bones and black blood veins. So, with a crooked lil grin and eyes alit with the death of my innocence, I tipped my hat and said, "Yes ma'm." - Sarvel Humington

“ In this here place, we're all reapers of oneself, strippin' who we are from our veins so we can survive the town Heaven never knew. “ - Sarvel Humington

“ I think people like to shove the kind down because they know that they stand a chance when faced with cruelty.” - Estina Piscator

“ I'm not gonna be ashamed of who I am, I'm not gonna let people say this isn't who I am, because I tried to tell myself that for a long time, but eventually I had to accept myself. I don't need no man in my life, because in truth, I've always wanted a Queen of a princess to come on by with a flowy gown and a cute smile. I'm not afraid to say it, I'm a god damn lesbian, and anyone who has a problem with that can go back into their little hole of ignorance and die shallow and stupid. “ - Estina Piscator

“ My name tastes like revolution smoke and death on my tongue.” - Teresa Vanderboom

“ Somedays I fear God looks at me with scornful and hateful eyes, telling me I should be one with her angels, but I sit here, like a gentle and decaying rose, wondering why my petals stick to me when all I ever was is thorns and a broken stem. “ - Teresa Vanderboom

“ I don't know what the world wants of me, but as I dance with my lover underneath the moon's golden glow, I know that perhaps, to be alive is beautiful for most. But when you live past your death, it becomes something ugly, to breathe. “ - Teresa Vanderboom

“ I look in the mirror only ta see somebody that's not me, the heart of Rupert Vanderboom is still there, but there's a stranger's eyes starin' back at me, and sometimes I wish I was just a coffin, with who I am rotting in the marble material above me. “ - Rupert Vanderboom

“ She once told me that though we look different, there's still something she loves about me dancing fragile in my heart. But sometimes I wonder if my lips feel like a stranger against her skin, or if my fingers curling into hers feels unfamiliar. “ - Rupert Vanderboom

“ They always tell ya you get kicked down, that's life, it's a journey from one tragedy to the next, lookin' for the intervals of peace in-between the chaos and sorrow. But I'm just a tragedy who never found the peace, because throughout this life I've lived I've met many people, all whom are different, but I always stay stagnant, regretful, sorrowed by the years that pass me by. “ - Rupert Vanderboom

"When the world is fallin', mate, we gotta rise.” - Matilda Blight

“ I was just a woman 'a the streets, looking after her two boys, wonderin' why life didn't love me enough ta give me shelter under her wings, and as I clutched at the stars with human fingers and a will ta live breathin' in me heart, I knew that perhaps, life didn't need to love me, for me to love her. “ - Matilda Blight

“ Janette is a beautiful and war torn soul, and I hope that as I hold 'er hand she feels a little less cold, a little more human then she did all those years ago, livin' under the shadow of mercy. I love 'er, ya know, when she first pressed her lips against mine, or our skin collided in tangled sheets and a bed of roses, I knew wot love was, and I knew I'd always wan' it. “ - Matilda Blight

“ I sit in a lake of ice, the crowd gasping at the man who froze, and as I sink into the depths of my rage, I know that perhaps, this beast is all that I can ever be. “ - Maxadon Destodel

“ I'm swinging from this noose of my rage, wondering why it won't snaps and let me breathe for a single second, and as I lose myself to the anger that seethes like death in my veins, I know that all who come to know me must see a beast swimming in my eyes. All except for her. I met her in a pinewood forest, wondering if it was perhaps, Heaven I had found after all my years spent living in a Hell I call earth. She dabbed at my wounds gently, telling me that all would be okay, just listen to the gentle hums of nature, and a strange sense of peace I'd never known washed over me. But as I was ripped from her by ghosts wearing white lab coats and needle prodded gums, I knew that I would never hold peace in my gentle fingers again.” - Maxadon Destodel

“ I'm a guilty man with ghost blood flowin' through his veins.” - The Sheriff

“I'm the reaper of my own heart, sittin' in the essence of death like a question no one should ask, and as I pull back the hammer of this old revolver, I know that death shall come for me one of these days, and I shall stand here, ready to face her as I have so many damn times. Ya see, death comes to you like a mistress, she sits there in a dress of feeble lies, but they look like shimmering truths. She stands like a lovely question you wanna answer, and as she places a finger on your cheek and kisses your scars, infecting them with the decay of vultures and crows, you know that you've died, and you can't do nuthin' to stop it at that point, for you're tangled in death's sheets, wondering why you can't escape the spider's web.” - The Sheriff

“ I pull back my hammer and put a bullet of fatal identities in my skull, death lulling me to sleep with gentle, boney fingers that force who I am to decay. “ - The Sheriff

“ My sister asked me who I am, once, and sadly, I'm just a ghost of who her brother was." - The Sheriff

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 19: A Witch is Needed.

(Lyn + Michael)

Lyn

I was flipping to the next page when I felt Ally shift next to me. I paused and looked down at her. Her face was relaxed, but I could the rawness around her eyes where she had been wiping at them last night. I wondered what had triggered her, but then I thought maybe that this had been slowly building up. She had been absent for most of the week. I saw her every now and then, but it was always brief. She hadn’t really been speaking to me or Michael. I asked her about one night, and she just said she and her roommate weren’t talking to one another. Finally, Michael figured out what happened and let me in on it. On top of all the crap that’s been going on with the ghosts, she was having alive people drama too.

The bruises were fading, but I could still see the finger imprints. It caused a burning feeling inside my chest of anger and shame when I saw them. I saw when Fredrik shoved her under the water, and Michael stabbed the dude with a bloody knife, and I tried whacking him off with my bat. But that’s about it. Next thing I knew, I was outside, and the gang is telling me I was possessed. Add that to the list of ‘Lyn’s traumas of her second year at MSU.’ And they say third year is the toughest year.

I put my book down in my lap, staring up at the ceiling. This whole thing was crazy, absolutely bonkers. I can’t believe that most of my semester has been taken up by all these crazy events. But it’s not like Ally’s presence called all this to the forefront. Was there always something going on, but I couldn’t see it? It was a strange feeling, lemme tell ya. I would say I felt a bit jealous that I couldn’t at least sense them like Michael could. It made me feel useless when it came to the actual ghost hunting. But if I couldn’t see them, then how was Fredrik visible to me? Huh, I never really thought about it before.

And it turns out that the ghost that Ally has been getting a lot of information from was a dead family member. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, honestly. I didn’t see my dad’s family all that much. I saw old pictures of great grandpa George when he was young after he passed away. Him and his sister looked very similar, I remember thinking at the time. Both had the same slender faces and big ears that my dad had. Both of them even had the same freckles. But whereas my great grandpa looked very serious in his family photos, his sister had this amused smile on her face, as if she was in on a joke that no one else was. It was said that he really lost himself when she died, and he became a bitter person who blamed the justice system for never figuring what happened to her. He was the only one who thought something bad happened, while others thought she just ran away from home because she didn’t want to marry the man they set her up with. Hey, I could totally relate to that, homegirl.

Ally shifted again, knocking me out of my thoughts. She pressed right up against me, causing a smile to flutter onto my face. It just felt nice to have someone you cared about seeking you in their sleep. I lightly brushed my knuckles against her face, pushing the hair out it. A small smile appeared on her sleeping face.

Something warm bloomed in my chest as I stared down at her. Have I ever felt this way before? I tried to think about all my previous partners, but I couldn’t ever remember having a warmth like this. It was a…a weird feeling.

I turned my attention back to my book when I heard Ally groan as she woke up. She stretched her arms before snuggling back down. I could see her hazel eye peeking out from under the covers, watching me. I picked up the bottle of water from the floor and handed it to her. Ally took it gratefully. She cracked it open and took a small sip as she sat up next to me.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, watching her.

Ally took another sip, nodding as she did. She set it down after putting the lid back on it. “I feel better. Sorry about that…”

“Hey, don’t apologize to me,” I said, reaching over to tuck her hair behind her ear. “That’s something you should never apologize for.”

She looked embarrassed but nodded all the same.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

“Um…” she sighed, raking her hands through her hair. “I just…I dunno. Everything sort of hit me at once, I guess. I feel like I’m so close to figuring this all out, but there’s just something I’m missing. Then I also realized how far behind I was in all my schoolwork, so that didn’t help. Oh, and I had this horrible dream where I watched all of them die again.” She brought her knees up to her chest, looking defeated.

“Ally.” I bonked her lightly on the head. She looked over at me in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“You’re not doing this alone,” I said, cupping her cheek and rubbing my thumb against her skin. “Michael and I are helping you every step of the way. We, not you, are going to figure this out. Together. So, stop stressing about it so much, okay?”

She stared at me before sighing again. “I know, I know. It’s just- ugh, it’s just that sometimes my brain goes into overdrive, and I can’t stop it. Like, logically I understand what you’re saying, but my brain disagrees otherwise.”

“I get it,” I said. “I don’t understand it on a personal level, but I get it. Just remember that we’re here for you. I’m here for you. You’re not doing this alone,” I repeated firmly.

“Okay…thanks,” she smiled shyly.

“You’re welcome,” I kissed her on the forehead before resting mine against it. “Now, are you hungry or anything? We could go get breakfast.”

Ally said nothing as she stared into my eyes. Slowly, she nodded, rubbing our foreheads together. I made no effort to move, however. Neither did she. I felt her breath on my face as her breathing slowed down. Ally closed her eyes, her lips lightly brushing against mine. But just before she kissed me, I pulled away, stifling a giggle as I said, “Okay, let’s go then!”

Ally opened her eyes in confusion. “Did you just-? Did you seriously just tease a kiss?!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the incredulous tone of her voice.

“Me? Teasing? I would never dream of it.” I couldn’t supress the broad grin that was growing on my face.

“You’re a horrible person, you know that right?” she grumbled as she crossed her arms.

“Maybe,” I teased with a smirk, “but I’m your horrible person.”

Ally fell back dramatically into the pillow. “You know what? I don’t want breakfast after all. I’m just going to lie here with Pickles. He’s the only one who cares about me.”

I laughed loudly as I bent over, kissing her on the lips. “Come on, you need to eat, you dingus.”

“I need one more to be fully charged, otherwise I can’t move,” she said seriously. I kissed her again, a bit longer this time before pulling away with a soft smile. She smiled back and nodded. “Okay, I’m good to go now. Thanks for the charge.”

“Anytime, luv.”

XXX

It was later that day that I sat with Michael in the library with newspapers, old articles, and messy notes spewed all around us. Trying to figure out what the fuck happened to Jeremiah Kinkly was driving us both to the brink of insanity. So far, despite hours of looking, we’ve found basically next to nothing.

Michael groaned as he crumbled up another note and dumped it in the bag we designated for that purpose. “I just don’t get it, it’s like this dude doesn’t even exist.”

“Maybe he doesn’t, and the universe is fucking with us,” I said dryly, not looking up from my laptop.

“That sounds like something the universe would do.”

Despite our joking, it was starting to feel hopeless. I told Ally she wasn’t allowed to help us with this today because she needed to catch up on schoolwork. She was sitting nearby and kept sneaking glances our way, but we both had put our foot down. She grumbled and complained but we stayed strong. I could feel her eyes on us now, but I ignored her. I didn’t want her helping at all. The whole thing was overwhelming her right now, and she needed a break from it for a little bit.

Michael sighed as he dragged over a book he took out. It was supposed to help with our Fredrik problem, according to him. Because we weren’t sure that he would disappear if we captured the killer, it was a precautionary measure. Except for one tiny problem: we had no idea how to do a spell. Michael had read through the book several times yet couldn’t find any solution that didn’t involve a witch. I mean, we already had half a dozen ghosts roaming around, so why not add a witch to the mix? Absolute insanity, that’s what this was.

He did mention heading down to the weird bookstore later and talking to the owner. Michael claims that she was basically a witch, so she might be able to help, or at least give us pointers. I’ve never stepped foot in that store, but I trusted his judgement. He was a good guy with a steady head on his shoulders, so he wouldn’t suggest it unless he thought there was a chance it would work.

Another few useless search results and I was starting to get annoyed. How the fuck was there nothing on this stupid man? You would think that someone who died on this cursed campus would show up somewhere. Michael was right, it was like he didn’t exist. But we had the DNA results, which meant that there should be proof somewhere that he was a real person.

We wanted to avoid asking Professor Kinkly about it. We didn’t know who this guy was, and we didn’t want to drag anyone else into this mess. Of course, that was a huge pain in the ass. I bet we wouldn’t be dragging our asses like this if we could ask him. Jesus Christ, I was about to murder someone.

I threw my head back, closing my eyes in annoyance. It felt pointless to keep looking, we’ve been at it for hours at this point. Maybe we should just cut our losses for now and move on to the next problem instead. Hell, that was what Michael was doing. I ran my hands down my face before adjusting myself back into searching position. The open Google tab looked as if it was mocking me. What a bastard.

I crossed my arms as I stared at the blank search box, racking my brains to figure if there was something I was missing. I tried every word combination I thought of. That hadn’t worked. I even tried to look him up in obituaries, but it seemed like he never got one. How could a man whose DNA just not be anywhere at all? It didn’t make sense. God, I wished I was a hacker, then I could go into a hospital or police database.

“You guys look like you need a break,” said Ally as she approached our table.

“Hey, you’re banned!” Michael pointed his finger at Ally. “This is blasphemous!”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I just noticed how beat you looked. It might be worth it to stop for awhile, maybe even go for a walk.”

“That’s very ironic, coming from you,” I remarked. “You know?”

Ally held her hands up defensively. “It was just a suggestion. Maybe we could go to the store that Michael had mentioned?”

“What’s this ‘we’ stuff?” Michael raised his brows. “I literally just said you were banned. Weren’t you listening?”

“Hey, I need a walk too,” she laughed. “Plus, I’ve made great strides. I finished both my English and Psych work.”

“Damn, we’ve been doing this for a long time then,” I groaned, throwing my head back again.

Michael rapped his knuckles against the table. “Alright, we go to the store, then come back here. Ally’s not wrong, we’re pretty done. Maybe a change in scenery is something that we need. And,” he grinned at Ally, “since you did get a bit of work down, you can come.”

Ally gave an adorable fist pump as she grinned at me victoriously. I rolled my eyes, keeping my own smile off my face. “Just know I didn’t agree to this.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask you,” she snarked playfully.

Together, we quickly packed up our things and headed out.

XXX

Michael.

The bell didn’t tinkle when we walked in. I looked up in confusion and saw that it was taped down. That was strange.

The other strange thing was Talia wasn’t anywhere in sight. Maybe she was just in the back? I walked towards the counter, surprised to see someone else sitting there instead. It was Talia’s daughter, the one with a mane of black hair and spiked bracelets that looked like they belonged in Hot Topic. Actually, they probably were from there.

She was sitting on the stool with her elbows propped on the counter, reading a book of some sorts. She glanced up when I approached the counter, sighing as she closed the book.

“Can I help you?” she asked flatly.

“Uh…I was wondering if Talia was around, actually.” I looked around and saw Ally and Lyn staring at the petrified doll heads with curiosity and apprehension, respectively. “We just needed help with something.”

She looked around before saying bluntly, “Huh, looks like she’s not here. Have a nice day.” She went to open the book again.

“Well…it’s Katherine, right? Can you just tell her we stopped by? Oh, and I’m Michael, by the way.”

Katherine looked at me with a mix of annoyance and exasperation. “Yeah, I will. Goodbye now.” She went back to reading with a shake of her head.

I was about to leave when I noticed that she wasn’t just reading a regular novel. She was reading a spell book! That’s a very odd reading choice, but I ain’t judging. Instead, I put on my best smile and cleared my throat.

There was murder in her eyes as she looked up again. At this point, Ally had made her way while Lyn was looking at the stuffed bear head in confusion. She stood next to me as Katherine glared daggers at me. Her eyes flickered between the two of us before she heaved another great sigh.

“What do you people want? I already told you that mom wasn’t here,” she snapped.

“What are you reading?” I asked, gesturing to the book. Ally stared at it, her eyes bright with interest.

“A book.”

“But that’s not a normal book.”

“Why do you give a shit?”

“I just was wondering if you knew anything about witchcraft?”

She stared at me silently, her eyes narrowed. Oops, maybe that was too forward of me. After a few minutes of very tense silence, she dropped her shoulders slightly.

“Why?” Katherine crossed her arms, still glaring at me. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because,” Ally spoke up, “we’re trying to send a spirit back to wherever it’s suppose to be, and we need someone who understands spells and witchy stuff. We thought that asking the woman who owns this store would be our best bet.”

Doesn’t Ally respect that she’s banned from engaging in this stuff today? Clearly not, sheesh. I nodded in agreement, and added, “She’s been kinda helping us this whole time.”

Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose before sliding off the stool to stand. She leaned against the counter and appraised us both. Ally stared back, not breaking off eye contact while I maintained it the best I could.

“You’re crazy, the two of you,” she shook her head. “Mom is out of town for the day and asked me to watch over the store while she was out. Sorry, but she won’t be back until then, maybe even longer depending.”

I couldn’t hide the disappointment on my face. An extra day wasn’t that big a deal, but it still sucked that we came here for nothing. I was ready to leave when Ally got a strange look on her face. I looked at her with a frown, but she was still looking at Katherine. Lyn walked over, eyes flickering between the two women.

“What’s going on?” she whispered to me. I just shrugged my shoulders, not really sure myself.

Ally suddenly gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She shook whatever that was off and said, “Well, why don’t you help us then?”

My jaw dropped open as Lyn frowned in confusion, having missed most of the conversation. Katherine looked just as surprised at the suggestion before she burst into laughter.

“That’s insane!” Katherine had a small smirk on her face until she saw Ally’s determined expression. “Wait, are you serious? You actually think I can help you?”

“Well, why not?” Ally said with a shrug. “I doubt your mom would have put you in charge of the store unless you could at least understand half the stuff in here. Plus, you were reading that spell book when we came in, and I’m guessing you’re not doing that for fun.”

Damn, Ally’s observation skills were on point yet again. Lyn looked silently impressed, wearing a smirk as she nodded her approval. Katherine still looked surprise, and maybe even a little unsure. She tugged at the end of her hair, staring at Ally warily.

“You are asking something of me that you can’t even prove,” she said slowly. “Who ever said magic is real?”

“Ghosts are,” said Ally bluntly, “and one of them was brought here somehow. Please, I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t sure.”

Katherine looked skeptical as she worked her fingers through her hair. “Well…that’s definitely a point. What is it you actually need from me?”

Ally beamed as she turned to me, indicating that I could do the explaining. Quickly, I tried my best to explain the whole Fredrik thing without going into too much detail, because at this point, we could write a novel with everything we had going on. Katherine listened, her face pinched with nervous energy. After I finished, she looked away, her expression contemplative.

“Okay…” she glanced back us briefly before diverting her attention again. “I need some time to think about it. That sounds really stupid and really dangerous. I’m not about to put myself in harm’s way just for some strangers. Now get out, I need to be alone right now.”

We left, making sure the door was closed behind us tightly. Katherine immediately locked the door behind us, flipping the sign to ‘close’ before heading back to the counter. We walked a little ways away before I whirled on my heel, staring at Ally in awe.

“How did you do that?” I asked in wonderment.

Ally shrugged as she reached for Lyn’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “I just guessed, honestly. There was something…hmm, strange? I’m not sure how to say it, but there was something strange about her… you know,” she waved her other hand around widely.

“No one knows what that means,” remarked Lyn.

She rolled her eyes in response. “I just felt something around her. I can’t really explain it. I think she’s going to help, though.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said. “I tried looking for other options, but I couldn’t figure out any other ways to send him back. It’s not great that we have to ask other people for help, but I think it should be okay. Just a quick spell and poof! He’s gone, hopefully back to where he belongs.”

Lyn pressed her fingers to her temple, messaging it lightly. “I can’t explain how happy I’ll be once this craziness is all over, you know? This whole thing just keeps unraveling more and more. It will be nice to hang out with you guys when it doesn’t involve murder and hauntings.”

Ally laughed, pressing her lips to Lyn’s knuckles. “Listen, you signed up for this. Ghosts are an everyday part of life for me.”

“I was also thinking of starting up a ‘Spook Searchers’ business after this case is all said and done,” I joked.

“You better change the fucking name, then,” said Lyn. “Because no offense to either of you, it’s terrible!”

We both gasp in mock indignation before the three of us burst into laughter. It felt good to laugh about all this. There have been some really heavy times for us, but so far, we’ve made it through it okay. I have to admit, the day I decided to share my umbrella with Ally was one of the best things I ever did. I really liked these girls, and I was happy about our friendship. I left all my friends and family back home in Victoria, so finding two people I really got along with was awesome.

XXX

We were back in the library, our energy renewed. Lyn ordered us pizza to share, though she put her foot down on Hawaiian pizza (even though it’s the most delicious). Well, I wasn’t going to argue too much, since most pizzas were delicious, and I was starving.

We ended up banishing Ally back to her old table, despite her protests. It wasn’t until the threat of no pizza was issued did she comply. Now she sat alone, grumbling under her breath as she worked on something for her Anthro class. She would be fine.

Us, on the other hand, might not be. Frustration was setting in again as we made barely any headway on the JK case. Lyn’s tapping was getting more aggressive as she searched up a bunch of things, glaring at the screen as if that would help reveal the secrets. Meanwhile, I was stuck on paper duty, and it was super boring. The only thing about a Kinkly that showed up was when Prof Kinkly got his job here at Mount Seamus. That was literally all I could find. Not very helpful at all.

A thought occurred to me, and it was a long shot. Lamar had gotten the results from somewhere. I glanced at the email again, wondering if maybe they had something we could work with. I sent the person who sent the email to Lamar with the results a message, asking if there was any photographic evidence of the DNA results. Maybe it would go nowhere, but it was better than doing nothing.

I bit my thumb, chewing on the nail as I flipped through other useless articles. I found my focus waning as I stared at the same sheet of paper for several minutes unmoving. My mind wandered to the ghosts. Would they just leave after we figured out who killed them? Probably, hey? It would be strange to not have Amelia in my thoughts anymore. I felt bad for her and the others too. It was a horrible thing to even imagine, being stuck in the place that you died in. I shuddered at the thought.

My mind then drifted to Katherine. She didn’t agree to help us, but she also didn’t say no. I mean, why though? It just seemed really weird that she didn’t outright refuse. And what did Ally mean by saying there was something strange about her? I didn’t notice anything out of the norm. Maybe she was picking up on something ghostly that I couldn’t sense? I think that would be a first.

Was it warm in here today? I felt warm, sitting here in the library chair. I looked over at Lyn, who was staring at her laptop screen with a look of pure resentment, as if she couldn’t believe the answers weren’t just popping out in front of her. The intensity of her stare used to unsettle me slightly, but I’ve grown used to it at this point. I don’t really remember much about her sister, the one who picked us up, but I wondered if she harboured the same intensity. It made me nervous to think of her parents.

I sighed, putting my arms behind my head. Maybe it was better to just call this night off now. Neither of us were getting anywhere, and I had zero focus suddenly. I wasn’t even sure Lyn was focusing. Ally was working away on her assignment, or so she claimed. Maybe she was sneakily lookin’ stuff up too. I smiled, thinking that is something she would do. I wish she would take a bit more care of herself, considering all the crap she’s been through as well.

I jumped in my seat when Lyn scrapped her chair back. She stood up and cracked her back and shoulders before looking at me. “I need to walk around a bit and grab something to drink. Do you want anything?”

“Mind just grabbing me a water?”

“Bottled water?” Lyn made a face. “I guess so.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked incredulously.

“Everything. Everything about bottled water is wrong,” huffed Lyn before shaking her head. “No, don’t do this, Lyn. Don’t get into it, it’s not worth it. Ally, do you want anything?”

Ally’s tired face looked up from her laptop at the sound of her name. “Maybe a hot chocolate, if you don’t mind.”

Lyn nodded. “Sure thing. One hot chocolate and one destroyer of the planet, coming up.”

“Hey!” I protested. “I bet those coffee cups are just as bad!”

She stuck her tongue at me as she grabbed her wallet and headed up the stairs. I shook my head in disbelief. Ally caught my eye and chuckled under breath, her shoulders rising in rhythm.

I leaned back in my chair and frowned at Ally. “I think we should stop for the night, honestly. We’re literally getting nowhere.”

“What’s this ‘we’ stuff?” Ally said in a tone that mocked my voice from earlier. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to help, since you banned me and all that jazz.”

“Stop be so dramatic,” I said with a laugh.

“I will never, ever, stop.” She smiled at me before slumping down in her seat. “But in all realness, I agree that you should stop if you feel stuck. It’s probably just so much garbage to sift through. Maybe a good night’s rest will be just what you need.”

“Maybe.” I ran my hands over my face. I hated the bristles that were growing out slowly on my chin right now. Movember was a great cause but man, was my face itchy. Curse my Asian heritage and its inability to grow facial hair in comfortable way. Wait…did anyone grow facial hair in a comfortable way?

Lyn came clomping back down with the drinks in hand. She tossed the bottle of water at me, then set Ally’s drink down softly in front of her. Ally thanked her with a smile while Lyn sat back down, a tea in hand. She took a small sip, giving out a sigh of contentment.

“I needed this,” she groaned.

“We should stop for now,” I suggested. I cracked open the lid and took a swig.

“Probably,” she amended. “I felt like I’ve gone in circles tryna find anything on this idiot.”

I nodded in understanding. We had been at this literally all day, except for a little break. Maybe it was just a matter of not looking in the right spot or something like that. Whatever it was, it was driving us both up the wall. There was no point in continuing if we were just knocking out heads against the table.

But just before we started to pack up, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and noticed it was a response from the people who sent the results. I opened the email and saw that they included an attachment. Suddenly my hands were shaking in anticipation and excitement as I clicked the file. What I saw nearly made me drop my phone.

“Michael?” Ally asked puzzled. “Is everything okay?”

My words were failing me as I nodded slowly. Lyn got up and looked over my shoulder and her jaw dropped in surprise. Finally, Ally had enough and came over to see what all the drama was about. She took the phone from my hand and stared at the picture. Her face paled as her eyes widened in shock.

“No way…” she whispered. She put the phone face up on the table, so the man in the photo was looking up at us with a charming smile on his face. The photo must have been taken in the ’50s or something, but it was hard to say for certain. But it wasn’t the age of the photo, it was the person in it that was shocking us all.

Jeremiah Kinkly looked exactly like Robert Kinkly, our drama professor.

[cherry3point14]

To Catch A Winchester.

Pairing: Demon!Reader x Evil. Dean x Pie. Warnings: Demon!Reader likes bad things. The first scene is, like, kind of evil. Killing people and such. Also complete demon crack. Word Count: 3,056. Prompt: This post. A/N: I don’t have a good excuse for this. I made this gif and loved it so much I wanted to write something and it’s terrible. But mainly I need y’all to tell me how much you love this gif I made because I have watched it a thousand times.

Ao3 if your prefer

You’re reminded of that old show Madeline.

With lightning slicing through the night—occasionally illuminating the pews as you wandered through the church—here you are with your very own version.

Twelve little nuns lined up in a row. Slit their throats and a seal will blow!

A holy river of blood from steeple to sanctuary. A fancy way of saying bathe a church in blood, holy blood at that. It was such a delectable prospect you’d practically begged for the opportunity.

They’re tied up in the pews and you take them one by one. Each nun only goes so far. A couple killed in the tower, the belfry, a few in the lantern. The only problem is there’s one that won’t stop talking. On and on about how you could be saved, it wasn’t too late. How God still loves you. After your third trip down the stairs for your next victim, you’d gone as far as landing a punch to her ancient jaw. The way her bones had cracked under your hand was lovely.

She’d looked like she’d almost died. Beautiful, knocked the wind right out of her until she catches her breath and tells you. “You catch more flies with honey.”

Coming from a super-nun aside you like that turn of phrase. You lock it away in the back of your head for a rainy day, it’ll come in handy you think.

Then finally you take Sister Mary-won’t-shut-up to the bottom of the spire, climbing out into the humid night. It had rained but it’s stopped. The wet surface of the building, with your crimson additions, makes for a very pretty, glossy sight. Reflective even in the darkness. Really does look like an entire river when actually it’s only twelve dead nuns.

Eleven, you suppose. You’re about to kill number twelve. A flick of your wrist and she whizzes to the top while you climb, a knife between your teeth and the inky black of your eyes saying more than the mouth of your meat suit ever could.

Demons can’t be saved. God doesn’t love me. Lucifer does.

You’re straddling the cross at the top of the church, because why the hell not, while you drain her now limp body. Thunder booms and another strike of lightning reveals the outcome of your efforts. You wish you could take a fucking picture. This is what most demons are missing, some goddamn artistic vision. This church covered in holy blood was your hellish Mona Lisa.

After the seal’s break and Lucifer rises you had arrogantly assumed that evil and shadow would finally rule the Earth. Couldn’t heaven give it up and accept defeat already?

Now, it’s a whole new ballgame. The Winchesters are to be meat suits. Lucifer actually wants to wear one of them. Even Michael the dickless could do better. Although it wasn’t your place to say that, ever, unless you wanted to become a sacrifice to the demon blood cause when the time comes. Which, you didn’t. Things were more fun top side. There are only so many hundreds of years you can torture people in hell before it becomes repetitive.

You’ve fought on Earth for the cause for decades now, and you have no intention of stopping. Everyone has their part to play. Unfortunately, a big part of yours was breaking seals. You were fucking great at breaking seals because it required one of your best skills; creativity. So, you’re turning that creativity to something else. Hunting down Michael’s sword. Hell’s most wanted.

Dean Winchester.

Which leads you to Canton. Although technically you’d started in Cleveland. You’d caught wind of that stupid car they drive and followed them. Dumbasses the pair of them.

Whatever. Not the point. Nobody needs these boys for their brains, it's what's in their blood. The point is you’re in Canton now, so are they. They’re trying to stop some people dying because, disgustingly, that’s what they do with their limited time left on Earth.

See, here’s where you’re taking a slightly different approach. Most of your fellow black-eyed friends would go in swinging, throw them against a wall like all the demons who have failed to take them down before. Sometimes demons are so... so… obvious.

Not you. In all the time you’ve been up here you’ve had time to be bored. There are only so many missions and murders to commit. Even sex has grown tiresome. Humans are weak and none of them like pain as much as they claim to. Pathetic. So, you’re creative and you’re bored, and that’s how you learned patience.

It’s not enough to catch them in a moment of weakness. Those moments don’t last. They’re downward blips with quick recoveries, the Winchesters have impressive rebound rates and a knack for getting out of trouble. You need to focus on their weaknesses, those two extra letters make a huge difference.

You needed to find out what would bring them down and stay down. Or Dean at least. Figure out Dean’s vulnerability. Because Sam has some sort of loathsome bond with his big brother, enough that he’s given up on demon blood—for the time being. It won’t be enough to hurt Dean, you’ve got to split them up.

Which is how you end up in a bar, playing with the plastic cocktail stirrer between your fingers. The old fashioned the bartender made you is passable at best, no one has made you a good once since prohibition. Across the room is Dean Winchester knocking back beers like they’re going out of style.

This was going to be a time-consuming project it seems, how much could you really learn watching him like this? Clearly he’s an alcoholic but that’s not something that's helpful.

After the fourth beer, after he’s patted his empty glass at the pretty little tap whore, is when it happens. He looks up. Not at you directly, just up. His nostrils flare and you’re convinced that he’s smelt you. They may be dumb humans but they know about demons. You don’t freeze in fear for your life or anything, you didn’t want to give up this meat suit is all, she’s pretty enough to get free drinks most places.

The spell breaks when his phone rings before he has a chance to scan the room and lock eyes with you. You take a long drag of your drink, enough to empty the glass before you use the opportunity to escape. He’s turned his back to answer and you’ve seen all you need to see for now.

It’s a good thing you’re so patient or you might have fucked that up.

There’s something powerful in Nebraska. You can taste the cackle of demon in the air as soon as you arrive a few hours after Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. The only thing you can think is, whoever it is better not waste your time. The Winchesters are officially yours and nobody will be taking them from you. Nobody else knows that and actually, you aren’t all that focused on Sam. Sam is Lucifers and you aren’t stupid enough to come between that. But, Dean?

Dean, you were looking forward to getting your hands on. The man has been to hell already and when you caught him and took him back with a bow on…? Oh, you would so enjoy breaking him. Again.

Until that blessed day, you slink around after them. Being subtle in the way you plot and scheme. So, yes, whatever demon is in Nebraska needs to stay away from your side mission that has become your sole focus.

You were project managing this bitch and you weren’t looking to delegate.

Ignoring the powerful thing in Nebraska, the town is wonderfully insane. People scratching their own brains out or that guy who ended up with square eyes from watching TV too long. Even the stuff that isn’t life-threatening is so fun that you have to respect the game.

You had no idea that the thing you could feel was him. The antichrist. You were an idiot.

The demon trying to get him goes in guns blazing, obviously, and the kid destroys him. Absolutely casts him out. Not just out of that meat suit of a mother, out of existence. And you’re watching the whole thing from across the street like a creep. You’re about to go in because you need that kid. Lucifer needs that kid. More than you need Dean. Enough to blow your cover but before you can, he’s gone.

The power disappears from Nebraska like it’s been sucked off the face of the planet. As much as it is a shame you can't say you're upset. Now you get to carry on your game.

The hotel is the sort of place you’d love to burn to the ground. It would look fantastic lit up in yellow and orange.

When you first step foot in the place nothing makes sense. Not the hundred wannabe Winchesters or the fact that there are humans walking around pretending to be demons. You don’t like being confused. You were supposed to be getting somewhere and now it’s like being back at square one.

After your initial shock, you actually want to test this out so you sit there in your pretty new meat suit and flick your eyes onyx. Some idiot next to you has the audacity to lean over and compliment your Ruby costume.

As if you would be caught dead calling yourself Ruby. Your fingers itch to snap his neck for the fun of it and you almost do. You only resist because you picked up your new skin a few days ago and there isn’t anyone that you can see who would be a suitable replacement.

Everyone piles into the conference room for some sort of announcement, eventually, leaving you in the hotel bar to figure things out.

There are books. How did no-one in hell talk about this? Everyone is obsessed with finding those boys and nobody thought to do the research. That’s the problem with demons these days, new evil, it’s all so rushed. Sometimes a lighter touch is required.

You steal copies from a stand while everyone is cheering about something in the other room. This follow the Winchesters crap is making you soft because that act of defiance alone makes your meat suit tingle. You should be concerned about that. Except only doing a light skim of the pages, you have a veritable bullet-pointed list of ways to make Dean Winchester cry. So, you’re still getting somewhere.

Hours later you’re in the car you stole along with this body and you see a word in the books, so innocuous that it shouldn’t stand out to you. Pie.

You remember that nun then, must have been more than a year ago. You remember that sentence you tucked away for a rainy day. Maybe you’re weakened by remembering how good it felt to break a seal that night. Maybe that memory makes you weak for the words she’d said after you felt her jaw crack.

You catch more flies with honey.

Most humans would call it a beautiful Sunday morning. Sweet Lucifer, crap like that made you sick.

It’s the perfect cover though. Nothing bad happens on Sunday mornings.

They’ve been staying in this bumfuck nowhere town outside of Phoenix because they escaped from a mental hospital or something. The ‘or something’ is probably pretty relevant but you don't care, not really, not unless it helps you.

If their guards are down, sure, it’ll help you out, if not, that was fine too. You’ve got the perfect plan anyway.

You watch Dean leave the motel they’re in looking, surly? Doesn’t matter, the fact is he’s alone. His face is explained when he stops in a diner to get coffee. He's tired. You’d been following him on foot till now because it’s easier to keep you distance walking around town, he won’t be in town much longer though.

You’ve been setting this up for days, weeks actually, but in this town; days. The plan has been in motion for a while you'd only been waiting for them to settle down for a few and finally, they did.

The woman behind the counter of the diner is named Glenda. Glenda is the sweetest little old lady this side of creation. Or at least that’s what you’d told her the last time you went in. You’ve been speaking to her every day, laying the foundation, taking the time to become her friend. It would be exhausting if you ever got exhausted.

Glenda has been telling anyone in a 30-mile radius about the pie truck that’s pulled up on the old Applewood farm, run by a ‘sweet young thing’. You run the best traveling bakery in the country, your mama taught you everything you know. You’ve been supplying the diner all week.

And now she’s telling Dean.

“Oh yes,” you can see Glenda nodding enthusiastically through the large windows. “All the pie we’ve had all week came from that truck. Apparently, she has a big setup for today and then she’s moving on.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up.

Perfect.

You jump into the car you’re using this week and wait the three minutes it takes for him to come sauntering out like the cat that got the damn cream. This idiot thinks he’s getting pie. Well, there is pie. You couldn’t lure him without having the pie. There’s also a trap is all.

It’s nice to follow Dean out to the farm, it’s nice because you know it’ll be the last time you have to follow his stupid car. After today you were cashing out.

Hayley is standing at the pie stand. You couldn’t be there obviously. Dean wouldn’t want a side of sulfur with his cherry pie. Hayley is a local you hired when you came into town. She’s more than happy to do everything for you, for the amount you’re paying her. You blame this whole 'catching with honey' schtick because you’re actually paying her too. You’d need to kill a whole mess of children after this to get the nice off of you.

Or breaking Dean might get you back to your brilliant, evil self.

He pulls up and his crapmobile bounces on its suspension with the same excitement he jumps out of the car with. Yes, you would enjoy making him pay for the months you’ve spent on this project.

Dean is so pleased as fucking punch to get a pie he doesn’t even notice your car crawling along the dirt path and parking some ways behind him.

The key here is the sign that says Try Our Award Winning Cherry Pie. It is award-winning. The bakery the pie actually came from won a gold star or some shit. You didn’t pay attention to the ins and outs, only that the pie looked perfect. That’s what you need, him to want that pie.

He does. The son of a bitch sees it and he grins. Points at the sign. He’s practically giddy.

Hayley nods to the second table, there’s only one left. You hadn’t planned that part. She must have had some customers already this morning. Glenda and her big mouth.

He takes a step towards it and you get out of your car. Another step and you start walking. A third and you pick up your pace.

He takes that last step, plants one foot in front of the table, and reaches out for the pie. Unlucky for him you’re sprinting to catch up and with a flick of your wrist, the table jumps back. The pie is in his hands so that’s fine, that’s safe, but now there’s a little space in front of him. Everything happens quickly. His second foot tries to catch up with his first except there’s no floor beneath him. The cloth mat the table had been sitting on falls away, supported by nothing.

You can’t help the laugh that comes out of you when he growls, “what the fuck?” before disappearing.

Hayley screams, whether at the table moving or the trap her customer falls into, it’s delightful. Fuck you missed hearing someone scream. Bloodcurdling and scared, it's a whole meal for your ears.

“Run home Hayley. Tell anyone about this and I’ll find you and kill you. ‘Kay?” She nods, tears starting to roll over her cheeks. She runs, as fast as she can, in such a hurry to leave she forgets her bike. If you remember later you’ll kill her anyway because damn is it nice to be back.

You have a Winchester to deal with first though.

The hole is 15 foot. You figured that would be enough to capture the 6-foot ape without him getting away.

You stand at the edge of the hole and look down. You almost laugh at the sight. Dean is standing in the bottom of this pit, the mat beneath his feet and the pie still in his hands. He's scuffed a little but the pie is perfectly intact. Damn, if you had a heart you'd say he deserves the pie.

You don't laugh though. It's time to put on your game face which means hands on your thighs as you lean over and stare down at him all-black eyes and satisfied smiles.

"Hi, Dean. A little birdie told me you like pie and I had the most, delicious, idea. Whatdy'a think?"

He looks equal parts stoic and mad, which is adorable. "Since when did you bitches get into baking?"

"What else are we gonna use all that fire and brimstone for?"

"Alright. What's the big plan then?"

His eyes don't leave yours, his hands still holding the pie as if it will save him. Somehow what you're about to do feels as wicked as painting that church.

You wave your hand and he slams into the dirt wall of his captivity. The pie falls to the floor, top first, his boot lands smashes into it.

"We're going on a road trip. Don't worry you won't need that where you're going."

By 'that' you mean the pie and by 'where' you mean the trunk of your stolen car.

Once this was all over you were going to teach fucking seminars on catching Winchesters. Because nobody does it better. 

5eva tags: @divadinag​ @darthdeziewok​ @fluentinfiction​ @witch-of-letters​ @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog​ @magnitude101999​ @alexwinchester23​​ @jesseswartzwelder​​ Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles​​ @akshi8278​​ @erins-culinary-service​​ @bloodydaydreamer​​ @iamabeautifulperson18​​

[dahvangogh]

and empty words are evil | Jason Todd

[masterlist]

[ prologue | one | two ] 

CHAPTER ONE

“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”

– Anais Nin

“How to be single and satisfied at the same time?” Daniel reads the headline out loud, his eyes skimming through the cover of It Girl with curiosity.

Grace hums out loud, thinking the question over while chewing her bottom lip.

“Masturbating, for sure,” Lisa says without missing a beat, Grace only seeing the top of her blonde head because of how burrowed on the laminated menu she was.

The raven-haired laughs loudly –she can’t help it–, but poor Daniel, red tinting his face, starts looking around in case anyone at the dinner has heard them and was giving them any dirty looks.

“Relax, Dan. No one cares.” Grace pats him on the shoulder.

Lisa seems to have forgotten her menu and is now staring fully at Dan, a wicked smile appears on her purple-painted lips, completely ready to bug him.

“Don’t… Leave him alone, Lisa.” Grace quickly chastises her, even kicking her under the table for emphasis, for Lisa can be the most annoying person ever when she wants to. “And Dan, no one is paying any attention to us. Relax.”

Dan is still looking around, his face finally back to its natural color.

“It seems… everyone is paying attention to the tv?”

Pauli’s Diner is crowded, every booth full and a long queue that reaches from the counter to the door. The usual. Yet everyone’s attention, even the four waitresses, seems to be on the tv. Grace also focuses on the big tv, which is placed high at the back of the diner wall, three booths away from theirs. It is on and showcasing a newswoman reporting about something, but without the sound and no headlines or subtitles below to indicate what she was talking about, Grace is left with more questions than answers.

“I think something happened.” Dan sounds between scared and resigned.

The three of them look at each other, then almost comically pull out their phones at the same time. Something always happens in Gotham –the city that never rested–, and it was a common occurrence to check the Gotham Gazette App every day. After all, any good Gothamite knows that to be well informed is the key to survival in such an insane and restless city.

“Fuck. I swear if that madman of Zsasz has escaped again, I will hunt him down and drag his ass to the Asylum myself,” Lisa grunts; her pale brows furrowed tightly. “Fucking load already, stupid App!”

Grace focuses on her screen, the app taking more time than usual to load.

“Mine too…” Dan’s answers in his usual hushed voice. Then, he starts chewing on his lip, worry all over his face.

A big headline pops on Grace’s screen –the App finally deciding on working–,  and she sighs happily after reading it.

“Seems an aircraft has fallen to the Sprang River; 20 people are currently missing and the rescue team is doing everything in their power to get to them.” She literally reads out loud the last words, happy that no madman is out and about on the city. “Nothing about Zsasz, sorry Lisa.”

Her two friends exhale the air they had been holding.

“Seems your impromptu date with Zsasz will have to wait.” Grace kicks her friend’s leg again, but this time just to annoy her.

Lisa shows her the middle finger.

“No, but for real. After last time, I don’t think he is going anywhere.” The raven-haired reminds them. “He killed 5 people until Batman and young Robin stopped him.”

Grace sees Dan gulp.

“Yeah, after escaping. Again.” Lisa sounds mad, which is understandable after living in Gotham for five years, and seeing all the hurt Zsasz has caused many Gothamites. “And one of them was my neighbor!”

Dan sighs, remembering her.  “Oh, that poor woman…”

“She was a mean bitch, though,” Lisa adds as if it is vital information.

Grace can’t help but to huff.

“Lisa!”

Suddenly, one of the waitresses appears at their booth. With a sheepish smile painted on her serene face, –probably because of how much they had had to wait– she asks them what they would like to order.

Lisa happily asks for a sandwich and a banana smoothie, –as if the last conversation has never happened– but quickly rectifies and changes for a big portion of the chocolate cake instead of the sandwich. The waitress, Marge by what the badge on her blouse, agrees with the blonde and sings praises about how good it is. Then, her attention goes to Dan, asking him sweetly what he would like to order.

The boy, who has never liked being the center of attention, turns bright red again. Shyly, he orders a cappuccino and one of their famous big chocolate cookies, all the while his eyes are zooming on the table instead of her.

When she turns to her, Grace feels as if she has been punched on the stomach.

The waitress aura, white and bright as any other, is twinkling and shaking from pure anxiety.

“What about you, sweetheart?” The old lady asks kindly, her face completely composed despite what her aura said of her.

The contrast between her aura and her facial expression is starting to freak Grace out. Nevertheless, she tries to focus on the present, on what she is feeling, on where she is and, more importantly, on what she wants to fucking eat. Which is really obvious if you know her, by the pointed looks of Lisa and Dan.

“I want a yogurt and banana smoothie, please.”

Marge hums.

“Be right back, then.”

Then, Lisa quickly starts rambling about what they should do on the weekend, something about the opening of a new club in town, but the raven-haired girl can’t pay enough attention to the get on the conversation. Marge’s soul is making it hard for her to concentrate; she even starts rubbing her hands together instinctively as if to distract herself.

She says fuck it and turns around.

The old waitress looks as composed as before, preparing their orders with the help of another girl while looking at the tv. But if Grace focuses hard enough, she can clearly depict Marge’s aura still shaking and twinkling, perhaps even more so than before. Despite training hard to control it, Grace still sometimes is unintentionally receptive to other people’s feelings –almost like an antenna would, she can perceive them and even go as far as toying with them.

This woman is anxious and worried, and Grace doesn’t even know how she isn’t shaking physically.

And Grace, being the sympathetic girl that she is, can’t help but take pity on the poor woman and break her own rules.

She extends her hand, scanning before that no one is paying her any attention, and then lowers it slowly.

Marge’s aura calms at the same time that her hand motion stops, and it no longer twinkles.

Though the lights in the room go crazy for a few seconds.

Grace has to thank whatever God exists, or even the Cosmos, that small tasks such as this one  don’t make her hands or her whole self glow with the usual green-bluish energy.

She still remembers the hilarious comment that once a crewmember of the Serbian Mafia made when he saw her appear out of nowhere, floating in the sky, just minutes before she brought hell upon them. Her, attired in her tight black suit and black domino mask, surrounded by bright green-bluish energy floating in the black sky while defying gravity.

And instead of running away, hide or even shot at her, he placed his hands on his hips and said out loud impressed:

“What the fuck? She looks like Goku Super Saiyajin!”

Grace can’t hold now the giggle that escapes her lips.

“What the hell?” Lisa’s voice brings her back to the present, and to the diner.

The raven-haired girl turns around and looks at her friends, smiling as if nothing had just happened, while blinking innocently.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

[ –    –    – ]

The pencil runs all over her sketchpad, quietly humming along to Stevie Wonder’s Superstition while drawing the sun setting between the skyscrapers. It looks spectacular from her high-ceiling windows. Grace’s weird obsession –despite her psychologist telling time and time again to her that it isn’t exactly a bad thing– of drawing beautiful things, or anything she believes is beautiful to her own standards, has made her sit down and try to make it justice.

Despite having to get ready for a night out with Lisa.

“Just fifteen minutes more and you will get ready.” She sets an alarm, just as Dr. Carson had advised her to do, and keeps drawing happily.

The oranges, in light and deep tones, together with the goldens of the sun setting almost make her forget about any advice, psychologist and nightclub.

And so she keeps going, her sketch pencil running through the page.

She has always felt privileged for owning an apartment in Gotham Village, where only the rich dwelled and played, with amazing views and almost non-existent criminality –which is surprising to say the least in this damned city–. It is the place where she could find herself being happy or at least, try to be normal.

But she misses going out and doing her thing as she did back in Europe.

Grace sighs, chewing on her already-chewed sketch pencil and stops drawing, hugging her legs to her chest.

When she had moved to Gotham almost a year ago, she had wanted to set aside her “dangerous hobby” and live a normal life. Like Lisa or Dan did.

After what had happened to her six years ago, she had used her family’s connections and pulled some strings so she could go and study in a European country. Away from Central Park and New York. There in Berlin, Grace had trained with an Israeli private trainer, Isaac, in Krav Maga until achieving a black belt and her expert five patch. Initially, she had started with just wanting to know the basics, a bit for self-defense and that’s it. Until one day, on a Friday night while she was watching The News, she saw another rapist just get five to ten years in jail and a pat on his shoulder. It had made her so furious that all the windows on her apartment exploded. Moreover, it was in that exact moment, while floating in the middle of her room with her whole being surrounded by the weird bright green-bluish energy and feeling full of rage, that she knew she could try and make a difference, for those who had power were clearly not doing anything.

The next day, after paying the window installer for she had no windows after last night’s debacle, she had asked Isaac about what he would wear, hypothetically of course, if he went to a fucking battle. At first, her trainer had answered that his military uniform but then he had rambled on and on about how a suit of Kevlar thread paired with a good armor would be the best choice if he could afford it.

So Grace, after debating all day whether to do it or not, had called her father that same night and had asked him to find someone who could build it for her.

Matthew Henderson had asked many questions, but she had just told him that in due time she would tell him. Just not now.

He had refused and straight-up hang up.

Later that same night, wide awake and after seriously considering to just wing it and buy a superhero costume from a cosplay online shop, her father had miraculously called again and accepted.

She really was his spoiled little girl.

Grace had flown to New York, the city that she now loathed with a passion, and had her measures taken. The guy who created it made the suit so it fit her like a glove – the downside to that? she had to be careful with what she ate.– It was tight, full-body and with high heeled boots to make her seem taller –after all, she couldn’t go around looking like a gremlin while also fitting crime. A pair of matching black gloves and a domino mask were also made.

After that, before putting the suit, she had not only trained to be the best at Krav Maga but also had learned a few other things –fighting with knives and how to use a gun properly, yet she still preferred to this day using her powers and Krav Maga–. A year and a half later, she had made her debut on Berlin’s streets.

In those years, she had killed many rapists, abusers and pedophiles. Delivered a few petty thieves and robbers to the nearest police station like Santa Claus would do on Christmas Eve, even going as far as tying them up and sticking a note on their foreheads explaining what they had done wrong. She really had been a good samaritan. A few encounters here and there with the Serbian Mafia and the Triad too.

Moreover, she might have done some petty thievery here and there, just to add a bit of spice to her life, but mainly she had been a good girl.

And fuck, she misses doing those things.

It was fun.

A bit dangerous, yes, but fun.

When you have powers beyond your imagination and are able to do some good, why would you step back and live a normal boring life?, she tries to reason with herself every night.

Yet back then in one of her many Skype sessions with Lisa, her childhood best friend, she had realized how empty and alone she had been feeling.

She had superpowers, at 23 she had her damn degree and had been studying to further her education even more, had also a lovely apartment, and yet she felt more lonely than ever.

And loneliness is a dangerous thing.

So, when she had told her good old friend, while omitting a certain hobby she had, of how she was feeling, the blonde had just replied with:

“Come to Gotham! We could live together and the city is fun. Trust me, you will never get bored here.”

Grace chuckles when remembering that. In the next twenty-four hours, she had packed her things, had said goodbye to her colleagues from University, and then hopped on a plane.

She has to give it to Lisa, Gotham city is everything but boring.

Gotham honors its name with its gloomy atmosphere, high buildings and horrible weather. The city is probably Tim Burton’s wet dream. You can find gargoyles in many of the buildings façades, many nights the city is covered in a thick fog, it has an Asylum for the worst of the worst with a high rate of escapees, an absurdly high rate in criminality and many bat-related vigilantes coming out at night to play.

Oh, and the many deranged individuals that play around Gotham like it is a child's’ dream playground.

Lisa had filled her in during those six years on her weekly Skype sessions about those individuals and so she knew most of them before she had placed a foot on the city. Gotham City has the Joker, currently-for-who-knows-how-long-because-he-always-escapes locked in Arkham Asylum, a psychopathic clown who had a weird obsession and ongoing feud with Batman; Two-Face, a half-burned crime lord obsessed with duality and the number two; the Penguin, another crime lord who looked like his namesakes and wore a monocle and umbrella; Poison Ivy, a stunning woman (Lisa said so, her gayness clearly showing here) who was an eco-terrorist and could control nature; and the list could go on and on for ages to no end.

So, her current life in Gotham is never dull or boring. She is working on a renowned and bohemian art gallery in the city, has an amazing apartment –she had tried living with Lisa but they had almost ended fistfighting with each other over a jar of marmalade–, can meet her best friends every day if she wanted, and is continuing her studies at the local University.

But she would be lying if she said she doesn’t miss going out and doing her thing.

Even drawing and painting, the thing that had always distracted her from suiting up and going out, was starting to not divert her attention as it normally would.

Her alarm starts going off.

“I really don’t want to go out.” she sighs loudly, as if someone would pat her on the shoulder and tell her not to go. “I hate partying and crowded places.”

Grace chews her already-very-chewed sketch pencil while walking all the way to her wardrobe.

She has to get ready or Lisa will probably scream her ear off for making her wait.

Though she is always late.

[ –    –    – ]

Grace, setting aside her ex-extracurricular activities, has always hated going out and now she remembers clearly why she does.

The night would always begin as good as it could possibly be. Lisa and her looking bomb would march to a nightclub, then the club would be buzzing with activity and music, they would have a few drinks and perhaps even dance a bit if the music was any good.

Then Lisa would start flirting with any of the cute waitresses and end up, don’t ask her how, with their tongue almost reaching her throat.

Lisa visibly looked like a terrible kisser, she always reminded Grace of a lifeguard doing mouth-to-mouth, and so she never understood why would the women always end up going God-knows-where to probably fuck.

And so then she would end up all alone, surrounded by sweaty bodies while going deaf by the loud music, and nursing a drink.

Tonight is no different from the usual, but she is tired. Her head hurts from overthinking too much all day long and the high heels are killing her.

Grace decides it is time to call it a day and head back home.

She quickly sends a message to Lisa, who is probably very busy with the cute blonde-haired waitress, and stands up from her barstool.

Hey girl, hope you are having fun with the redhead girl wherever you are.

As you left me alone, as usual (don’t fret, i’m used to it lmao) I have decided to stop being a pathetic human being and go home.

Call me tomorrow, but don’t even think of giving me any details. I don’t care about your sexual life.

Bye, bitch. xx

PD: text me when you GO home and when you GET home, it isn’t safe out there.

The raven-haired sighs.

She has to hit the bathroom before calling her uber though.

Too many drinks.

[ –    –    – ]

♡ Here, in this fancy shithole, Lucy Ross lost her virginity ♡

Grace sniggers, the situation completely reminding her of some of the type of things she had seen written back then on her high school’s cubicles’ walls.

She sighs happily while finally peeing.

Suddenly, the screams of a high pitched voice and the sound of glass shattering continually almost makes her fall off the toilet.

“Fuck! Fuck!”

She grabs some toilet paper and when she is finished cleaning herself, she pulls her panties up as quickly as possible. Grace holds her breath. It is one person, a female by the sound of the colorful series of profanities she is screaming, and Grace doesn’t need to check her aura to know how angry she is.

Though just in case, she takes a peek.

She focuses on her own aura, then changes her focus towards the other one in the bathroom, even going as far as closing her eyes to discern it much better –without stepping out and risking getting hurt.

It is shining as bright as the sun, but trembling and roaring with despair and sadness. The fact that the poor female isn’t angry surprises her.

Grace takes a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever she is going to face after stepping out of the enclosed and safe space where she is.

When she opens the door, almost scared of what she might see after reading the aura, the sight of a blonde woman headbutting the bathroom’s big mirror isn’t at all what she had expected.

The girl doesn’t even pay her any attention, clearly busy trying to crack her skull open, and so she keeps doing it, even adding some punches to the mix.

Grace can’t let her hurt herself this way.

“Hey, hey, hey!” She has to stop her before she kills herself, or gives herself a concussion if she is lucky enough. “Stop! Stop!”

Grace grabs the blonde by the waist, as if trying to separate her from the mirror, and pulls her against herself.

Next thing she knows, the blonde answers her with a chokehold and then sends her flying over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.

Her body collapses against the same toilet she had been peeing seconds ago, tearing the door from its fringes in the process. However, because her pain tolerance is higher than normal, Grace just grunts and answers right back.

The raven-haired extends her hand, a bright green-bluish glowing around it, and makes a motion towards the sinks. Now the blonde girl is the one being sent flying but this time towards the mirror she had been shattering just before and the sinks.

Grace stands up, her back killing her even more than usual, and approaches the blonde sitting with her back against the shattered mirror.

Weirdly enough, the girl instead of being knocked out is looking at her as if she is Jesus Incarnated. There is wonder all over her face.

“You are so paying for the damages.” the raven-haired quickly points out but then stops herself.

She can’t help but examine her for serious injuries. After all, she had been head-butting the mirror three seconds ago and then sent flying to it –on self-defense though–. But despite all the blood that is running down her forehead, she seems more than fine. Happy even, just gazing at her.

“What the hell?” she can’t help but voice her thoughts out loud.

The raven-haired almost falls backwards when the girl —who is clearly not right in the head— jumps to hug her tightly, mumbling “yes” nonstop while jumping up and down like an excited child.

The blonde girl pulls back, black eyeshadow and glitter smeared around her big blue eyes, and her black-painted lips start smiling almost manically.

“You! You!”

Grace blinks several times, completely lost for words. Then she sighs, trying to get back to the present time.

“Are you out of your mind?” she asks her, completely serious.

“No, I’m Harley Quinn and you...” the blonde points at her, smiling cheekily. “You are my new best friend.”

The raven-haired girl can still hear Lisa, in one of their many Skype sessions, telling her snippets of information here and there about Harley Quinn.

“She is definitely insane. For a long time, she was the partner in crime of Joker and dated that nutter. Girl… the things she has done are something else. Anyways, then she left him and joined a girl band… No, kidding. But Catwoman, Poison Ivy and her did start hanging out and creating some mayhem.”

Again, Grace doesn’t know what to say.

“Let’s go have a drink!”Harley links one of her pale arms with hers, then starts dragging her out of the bathroom.

[ –    –    –  ]

They both sit on a VIP booth with an exceptional view of the dance floor and enough privacy to plot the murder of the current President. The loud music is now faint and low. At the glass low table, there is a big metal ice bucket with two expensive-looking champagne bottles and two glass flutes nearby.

Harley is sitting on the other side of the table, her maniacal smile still on and with her legs crossed, while Grace sits on the other side in the U velvety couch.

She scans her, now fully seeing her for who she is.

Her hair is up in a messy bun, which is dyed in blue and pink, lipstick smeared from probably drinking too much and her clothes are as eccentric-looking as the wearer is. She is wearing what seems like a dog collar, a very sparkling sequin red crop top matching with a penguin sequin dark jacket, striped high-waisted dark pants, and red neon high-heeled boots.

“Interesting choice of clothes.” she can’t help but say, then nods to her neck. “Nice collar, too.”

Harley smiles, almost childlike.

“Bud and Lou hate wearing it, so I decided to put their dog tags on one and wear it to honor them. Cool, right?”

Grace raises an eyebrow.

“Bud and Lou are…?

The blonde laughs loudly, a hand going to her flat stomach.

“My hyenas, silly!”

Then gets serious, so suddenly that Grace almost jumps from such a radical change of demeanor, and picks up one of the champagne bottle on the ice bucket.

“Sounds cool.”

It is all she can say.

But Harley doesn’t pay her any attention, furiously shaking the bottle up and down until it pops. She laughs fascinated by it, then pours some on both flutes and gives her one.

“Anyways!” she cries out loudly, then sips a bit of the champagne while staring at her, doe-eyed. “I kinda need your help.”

Grace takes a sip too.

“My help?” The raven-haired gets comfortable on the couch, a bit curious about the whole thing. After all, it isn’t every day you have a conversation with the infamous Harley Quinn. “You have just met me, Quinn.”

Harley opens her mouth – almost fish-like–, but Grace points a finger, interrupting her.

“Also, you are paying for the damn damages of the bathroom!”

The blonde enthusiastically nods, even going as far as to salute her military-style, all while smiling cutely.

Grace can’t help but smile back.

Harley Quinn is a very cute girl.

“So, will ya help me?”

She blinks a few times.

“With what?”

“Well, you see… it’s a long story.” Harley says, dragging the long while saying it. Then, she takes another loud sip of her flute. “When Mista J an’ I broke up for the hundred’ time, I decided it was time to emancipate myself! I started hanging out more with my besties, adopted many cute pets, hooked up with hot-billionaire Bruce Wayne once  an’ even changed ma’ hair.”

Grace raises a thick brow, surprise all over her face.

“You hooked up with Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne?”

Harley shakes her hands nonchalantly.

“Just kissed an’ groped his ass. Very tight and firm!”

Grace laughs at that and Harley joins her.

“Anyways, anyways. My friend Selina had just recently gotten a heart surgery an’ Red an’ I were helping her out on some things, then decided to live together. We had so much fun together! So, so, so much! We ran Gotham, the boys couldn’t keep up! And… Pammy an’ I… we fell in love.”

The blonde sighed happily, blowing raspberries into her glass flute.

“Pammy is Poison Ivy, right?”

Harley nods with a happy smile, but her face quickly contorts in one full of hatred and disgust.

“But Batnight ruined everything!”

The dark-haired girl scratches her temple, trying to remember the names of all the vigilantes of Gotham City, but she can’t remember anyone called Batnight.

“I don’t… I don’t recall any Batnight?” Grace chews her bottom lip, completely lost. “Is he new in town or…?

Harley shakes her head effusively, a clear no, while moving closer so her butt is now placed on the verge of the couch.

“He has sticks!” the blonde points out as if to help her distinguish who the vigilante is.

Grace takes that into consideration.

“Batnight… Batnight… Bat… Night… Night?.” Grace mumbles out loud while Harley nods along to what she is saying. “Nightwing!”

“That’s what I said!”

Grace opens her mouth to correct her, then closes it. She thought Nightwing now patrolled on Blüdhaven instead of Gotham City. Then, she opens her mouth again to ask about it but decides on not doing, Harley’s tale is already making her head hurt a bit. There is no need to enlarge the story even more.

“Red was helping her plants, ya’ know. Doing some good for nature, an’ the Batnight took her down!” Harley places her flute on the table with ferocity, making it shatter. Nevertheless, she is still looking at her with shiny eyes. “Now, Red is at GCPD Lockup, an’ in a week will be taken to the Asylum! Unjustly!”

The blonde starts to sob desperately, putting her hands to her face so it is hidden from her, and Grace sighs silently. While she stands up and approaches her, she checks her aura.

It is shinning and twinkling furiously, Grace can feel the sadness and sorrow the woman is feeling.

She is not lying.

Grace sits beside her and pats her back slowly.

With a kind smile, she asks her: “And because of what I did in the bathroom, you want me to help you?”

Grace is really an empathic girl, she can’t help it.

Harley drops her hands to her lap and looks at her, her eyeshadow and glittery mascara even more messed up than before. Then, almost shyly, nods.

“I… I have…. “ the woman hiccups while her pale fist starts rubbing her left eye. “I have a plan. It is good! But I need me some explosives to cause a distraction, so I can bail out my Pammy. Normally I would do it myself, I was going to… ‘til I saw ya’ earlier in the bathroom!”

The raven-haired girl laughs softly, then cheekily pinches Harley’s right cheek.

“Alright. Girl, I do have superpowers.” Harley nods along to that. “And I can make things go Boom, but where the heck do I get explosives, huh?”

The blonde grabs Grace’s hands with her bleached ones, turns on the coach to sit cross-legged on it and squeezes her hands tightly. She is smiling a bit more now which makes Grace a bit happy.

She likes seeing people smile.

“Blubberpot probably has some, but we ain’t good friends, ya’ know? So he won’t give it to me.”

“Blubber… pot?”

Harley nods.

“Penguin! Small with a pointy nose? Like a toucan?” she makes a gesture of a nose going large until touching her lap with her hand.

Grace realizes she means Cobblepot, Oswald Cobblepot; and nods.

“But I earlier heard some birds talking about Black Mask, it seems he had a new shipment of LX-14, CL-20 an’ TNT to one of his warehouses here in Gotham. ” Harley whispers conspiratorially, puckering her mouth like a duck,  though they are alone in the VIP area.

The dark-haired hums, running Harley’s plan through her mind.

“And you want me to smuggle them up, right?”

Harley nods, then subsequently adds: “Selina is busy with don’t-fucking-know-what and I would ask Zatanna but I heard she was busy! So, please?”

Grace sighs.

“You could go there, make the explosives disappear an’ make them appear in my house!”

“Girl, that’s not how my powers work. To open a portal and then move them to your house, I would need to first have set a foot on the place. I can’t just teleport myself to somewhere I haven’t been to before.” Grace takes her hands off Harley’s hold and crosses her arms while explaining this to the blonde girl. “Also, do you even know which warehouse it is? Last I heard from Black Mask, he has many.”

Harley jumps from her seat and starts searching through her pants pockets, nodding to what Grace said while taking out whatever she finds inside and placing it on the small table. A lipstick, some keys with a key-chain of a circus hammer, a small pocket-knife, another pocket-knife but with a blue handle,  some sort of ring –which curiously looks like the pin of a hand grenade, but Grace will turn a blind eye on that –, and finally a crumpled piece of paper.

The blonde gives it to her, smiling happily.

“I wrote it down, ‘cause I’m a smart girl. I got a Ph.D., ya’ know?”

Grace reads the direction written in messy handwriting and chuckles at the smiley face doodled underneath it.

“I will help you out on one condition.” She points a finger to the blonde’s face. “No killing any policemen. Got it?”

Harley nods enthusiastically.

“Then I will help you.”

The blonde lets a loud scream and throws herself to Grace’s arms, ecstatically jumping up and down as she did an hour ago on the nightclub’s bathroom. She is thanking her again and again, tears running down her face and falling to Grace’s naked arms. The dark-haired girl pats her in the back, chuckling lightly, and then hugs her back.

A few seconds later, but still as happy and ecstatic as before, Harley pulls back and places each of her hands on Grace’s cheeks.

“Let’s go have a sleepover at mines!”

[luci-cunt]

Hi @moonsandstarsaregay​ here’s just a list of perfect Geralt and Dandelion interactions in ONE (1) chapter [btw this is basically ep 2: the one with the Devil of Posada]

(this ended up being longer than I thought because they’re too iconic, I didn’t even make it through the whole chapter XDD maybe I’ll do a part two but I’m gonna get some food and let these dumbasses rest. 

But, spoiler: they’re literally so in love + feral/ insanely smart Jaskier is 100% canon)

[G+D leaving a pub where a bunch of people moaned about the galactic fuck-ton of monsters around them but then Geralt’s like, bye we’re leaving and Dandelion’s like ‘why?? monsters?? that’s your whole job??’]

"None of the creatures they mentioned exist.”

“You’re joking!” Dandelion spat a pip and threw the apple core at a patched mongrel [side note I have no idea what any of this sentince means]. “No, it’s impossible. I was watching them carefully, and I know people. They weren’t lying.”

“No,” the witcher agreed. “they weren’t lying, they firmly believed it all. Which doesn’t change the facts.”

The poet was silent for a while.

“None of those monsters... none? it can’t be. something of what they listed must be here. At least one! Admit it.”

“All right. I admit it. One does exist for sure.”

“Ha! What?”

“A bat.”

[You don’t even need context]

“...Eh, famous witcher? Haven’t you wondered why?”

“I have, famous poet. And I know why.”

[Riding on the road]

“Someone’s following us,” [Dandelion] said, excited. “In a cart!”

“Incredible,” scoffed the witcher without looking around. “In a cart? And I thought that the locals rode on bats.”

“Do you know what?” growled the troubadour. “The closer we get to the edge of the world, the sharper your wit. I dread to think what it will come too!”

[the afore mentioned cart catches up and suddenly the driver wants to talk, interrupting G+D bonding time]

“The gods be praised, noble sirs!”

“We, too,” replied Dandelion, familiar with the custom, “praise them.”

“If we want to,” murmured the witcher.

[and then later in the same scene]

“...I marked your expression and ‘twas nae strange to me. In a long time now I’ve nae heard such balderdash and lies.”

Dandelion laughed.

Geralt was looking at the peasant attentively, silently. 

[Still later the guy asks if they want to stop by his house cause they’re going the same way and Geralt’s like ‘hOw Do YoU kNoW wHeRe We’Er GoInG?’]

“As ‘cos ye have nae other way here, and yer horses’ noses be turned in that direction, not their butts.”

Dandelion laughed again. “What do you say to that, Geralt?”

“Nothing.”

[Dandelion talking about how gorgeous the land they’re traveling through is, Geralt teasing him like ‘oh so you know about agriculture?’ ‘Duh, poets know everything my dear fellow and agriculture is v important--’]

[Geralt] “you’ve exaggerated a bit with the [significance of agriculture in] entertainment and art.”

[Dandelion] “And booze, what’s that made of?”

“I get it.”

“Not very much, you don’t. Learn. Look at those purple flowers. They’re lupins.”

“They’s be vetch, to be true,” interrupted Nettly [the other carriage driver].

[Then Geralt zones out because now Nettly’s talking]

“The Valley of Flowers, that’s Dol Blathanna.” Dandelion nudged the witcher [...] “You paying attention?”

[They get to Nettly’s house and meet the village elder Dhun who want to hire Geralt]

The elder of the village nodded and cleared his throat. “Well, it be like this,” he said. “There be this field hereabouts–” 

Geralt kicked Dandelion–who was preparing to make a spiteful comment–under the table.

[Dhun’s explaining the situation more and then--]

“...stretches right up to the forest–”

“And what?” The poet couldn’t help himself. “What’s on that field there?”

“Well.” Dhun raised his head and scratched himself behind the ear. “Well, there be a deovel prowls there.”

“What?” snorted Dandelion. “A what?”

“I tell ye: a deovel.”

“What deovel?”

“What can he be? A deovel and that be it.”

“Devils don’t exist!”

“Don’t interrupt, Dandelion,” said Geralt in a calm voice. “And go on, honorable Dhun.” 

“I tell ye: it’s a deovel.”

“I heard you.” Geralt could be incredibly patient when he chose.

[Oh and, might I just add: this is Dandelion’s perspective–he’s the one pointing out how patient Geralt can be. I stg, TV!Geralt is quaking.

And, lmao, this whole scene feels like Dandelion was teasing Geralt for not wanting to deal with other company but now that there’s a job and Geralt’s attention is more on that he’s all pissy and that’s just hilarious]

[Dandelion goes on to interupt the story about 2 more times and Geralt tells him to be quiet both times and now he’s sulking]

Dandelion cackled again, then flicked a beer-drenched fly at a cat sleeping by the hearth. The cat opened one eye and glanced at the bard reproachfully. 

[Geralt takes the job even tho devils don’t exist, Dandelion is pissed, ‘why take the job if you know it doesn’t exist!?’]

“...I take it you haven’t abased yourself so as to get us bed board and lodging, have you?”

“Indeed,” Geralt grimaced. “It does look as if you know me a little, singer.”

“In that case, I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand?”

“There’s no such thing as devils!” yelled the poet, shaking the cat from sleep once and for all. “No such thing! To the devil with it, devils don’t exist!”

“True.” Geralt smiled. “But, Dandelion, I could never resist the temptation of having a look at something that doesn’t exist.”

[alkjdf;klasdfjkdsafl LITERALLY k;aldsjflsd WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS???]

[They finally manage to hunt down the devil and feral bard is 100% canon]

“Uk! Uk!” Barked the monster, stamping his hooves. “What do you want here? Leave or I’ll ram you down. Uk! Uk!”

“Has anyone ever kicked your arse, little goat?” Dandelion couldn’t stop himself. 

“Uk! Uk! Beeeee!” Bleated the goathorn in agreement, or denial, or simply bleating for the sake of it. 

“Shut up, Dandelion,” growled the witcher. “Not a word.”

“Blebleblebeeeeee!” The creature gurgled furiously, his lips parting wide to expose yellow horse-like teeth. “Uk! Uk! Bleubeeeeubleuuuubleeee!”

“Most certainly”–nodded Dandelion–“you can take the barrel-organ and bell when you go home–”

[this goes on for a while. btw yes, those are the noises the book describes the ‘devil’ making aksdjf;alk]

[then they have to run away because Geralt didn’t bring his sword and they get back to the house--]

“Well, well, Geralt.” Dandelion held a horseshoe he’d cooled in a bucket to his forehead. [you really can’t make this stuff up he’s such a disaster] “that’s not what I expected. A horned freak with a goatee like a shaggy billy goat, and he chased you away like some upstart. And I got it in the head. Look at that bump!”

“That’s the sixth time you’ve shown it to me. And it’s no more interesting than it was the first time.” 

“How charming. And I thought I’d be safe with you!”

[Then Nettly and Dhun give Geralt some old book that’s supposed to tell you how to deal with every monster ever]

He lay the book down on the table and turned its heavy wooden cover. “Take a loook at this, Dandelion.”

“the first Runes,” the bard worked out, peering over his shoulder, the horseshoe still pressed to his forehead. “The writing used before the modern alphabet. Still based on elfin runes and dwarves’ ideograms. A funny sentice construction, but that’s how they spoke then [...like a whole page of Dandelion being brilliant..]”

[^^^ that book is also unreadable but there’s a really old lady who has it almost completely memorized so Geralt flips through it to prove it and lands on this page--]

The etching showed a disheveled monstrosity with enormous eyes and even larger teeth, riding a horse. In its right hand, the monstrous being wielded a substantial sword, in its left, a bag of money. 

“A witchman,” mumbled the woman. “Called by some a witcher. To summon him is most dangerous , albeit one must; for when against the monster and vermin there be no aid, the witchman can contrive. But be careful one must be–”

“Enough,” muttered Geralt. “Enough, Grandma. Thank you.”

“No, no,” protested Dandelion with a malicious smile. “how does it go on? What a greatly interesting book! Go on, Granny, go on.”

“eee... But careful one must be to touch not the witchman, for thus the mange can one acquire. And lasses do from him hide away, for lustful the witchman is above all measure–”

“Quite correct, spot on,” laughed the poet.

[This moment--]

[Geralt] “...This time ‘tis grateful I’d be to heareth more, for too learn the ways and meanes ye did use to deal with him most curious am I.”

“Careful, Geralt,” chuckled Dandelion. “You’re starting to fall into their jargon. It’s an infectious mannerism.”

[And just over a page later--]

[Dandelion] “...ye furnished him with ammunition for two years, the fools ye be!”

“careful.” The witcher smiled. “You’re starting to fall into their jargon. It’s infectious.” 

[rwby-redux]

Preface

RWBY is the breakthrough anime web series created by the late Monty Oum of Rooster Teeth. Originally teased on November 5th, 2012, and officially debuted July 18th, 2013, the series follows the journeys of four young women enrolled in an academy that trains monster-slaying warriors known as Huntsmen. Set in the fictional world of Remnant, the story initially focuses on the surface-level plot of fighting against humanity’s ancient adversary, the ever-present Creatures of Grimm; over time, it becomes apparent that things aren’t what they seem, as the cast slowly begins to connect a string of heists committed by a criminal syndicate with the violent acts of a terrorist cell. The series is aired weekly on Rooster Teeth’s website, with its main arcs spanning 12 – 16 episodes per volume. In the years following the show’s initial release, RWBY has spawned numerous merchandise and related media, including two spin-off shows, multiple side-stories published as mangas, two standalone books, three mobile games, a behind-the-scenes artbook, and OSTs for every volume to date.

As of Volume 7 there are 98 episodes in total with a collective runtime of 18:52:00, or approximately 1,132 minutes, with more episodes and side content underway.

At best, they’re visually interesting; at worst, they’re disappointing.

Let me take a second to backtrack before the lynch mob starts to sharpen its pitchforks. The series deserves much of the praise that it’s gotten. RWBY was the first American-produced anime to be released in Japan (and if you’re a fan of anime, you know how insane those words sound). The 3D models and animation from Volume 4 onward are breathtakingly stunning, and even before the show made the leap from Poser to Maya, the fight sequences managed to be equally creative and entertaining. The show was nominated for and received multiple Streamy Awards, and was awarded Best Animated Series by the International Academy of Web Television. The Volume 1 soundtrack reached number one on iTunes, beating out the soundtrack for The Hunger Games: Catching Fire. Such is RWBY’s (and Rooster Teeth’s) reputation that it managed to attract the attention of, and later bring on, industry veterans and vocal legends such as Jen Taylor, Josh Grelle, and Aaron Dismuke.

That’s to say nothing of the fandom this franchise has amassed, of kids, teenagers, and young adults alike. RWBY has generated dozens of forums dedicated to fanfiction, fanart, and roleplaying. Thousands of people the world over have bonded over this show, fans from all walks of life. They’re passionate about this series. The fact that I’m writing this post is a testimony of that. If I didn’t care about RWBY, I wouldn’t be sitting on my couch at 3 AM, hunched over my laptop in my pajamas.

If RWBY is so good (or occasionally threatens to become good), you might be wondering, why, then, does this blog exist?

Well, because…when you stop and look at it critically, it actually kind of sucks.

Despite initially being written by a three-man team, the series is full of inconsistencies and an underdeveloped cast. The characters, especially from Volumes 1 — 3, are full of one-dimensional stereotypes whose contributions to the story amount to a three-word summary: “The School Bully,” “The Wacky Professors,” “The Racist Cop,” “The Cutthroat Bitch,” “The Anime Waifu,” “The Audience Surrogate,” “Discount Elle Woods,” and so on. Fundamental elements of the story, like Aura, Semblance, and Dust, are either poorly-explained or not explained at all, and the limitations of those core concepts can change at a moment’s notice to suit the needs of the plot. The primary antagonist of the first three volumes is universally hated by the fandom for having no discernible motivations beyond being “ambitious and power-hungry,” and having a personality that consists exclusively of irritating smug. The show-writers, despite repeatedly promising queer representation, have failed to make even one of their ten central protagonists queer. This isn’t touching upon the fact that the first openly-gay character on the show was an antagonist, or that the next two were side-characters who were relevant to the plot for all of seven episodes, before vanishing from the story entirely. The two leads that are currently being hyped as our first queer main-cast members have only been repeatedly teased, with said characters never once uttering the words, “I’m bi,” “I date women,” “I’m not straight”—nothing but narrative subtext and playful winks from the VAs whenever a fan asks if they’re queer. Subplots end up having no pay-off or get entirely forgotten mid-volume. The story is so protagonist-biased that the heroes are frequently able to get away with being hypocritical, or committing criminal acts because “it was the right thing to do,” with their POV framed as an infallible “fuck you, got mine” verbal gut-punch to the audience (while other characters in the show, who often make the exact same calls as the heroes, are ridiculed by the show and the fandom). Whenever the story isn’t spray-painting stolen cars and selling them to their original owners, it manages to clumsily handle allegories for real-world issues such as systemic racism, mental illness, abuse dynamics/victim survivorship, and gray morality. The worldbuilding is absent from the main show and has to be supplemented through RWBY’s spin-off series World of Remnant. The story’s setting feels flat and lifeless at times because the “cultures” of this world are never established.

The list goes on and on.

So if this show has so many flaws, why are we still having this conversation?

Because I’m captivated by the untapped potential of this world. When you brush away all of the detritus, you can see the wealth of raw material buried beneath. This is a world where the gods have forsaken their creations, with one having even deliberately created the monsters that hunt humanity. The two characters who are central to the history of this world are tragic figures, one cursed with immortality as a punishment for demanding that the gods revise the first draft, and do away with needless death; and the other, cursed to ceaselessly reincarnate into the minds and bodies of like-minded souls, waging a war of attrition against a person warped beyond recognition by the capricious spite of the gods. This is a world of forgotten magic, of shifting allegiances, of characters embarking on personal journeys and unearthing deadly secrets. It’s a story of people from all walks of life learning to cooperate and work together, forging friendships and alliances in order to face the challenges that lie ahead.

It could easily have the bones of an epic fantasy series as long as it remembers to drink its milk.

RWBY’s issues aren’t insurmountable. Most of them are the byproduct of the series’ blind adherence to “rule of cool,” the motto that practically codified the beginning of the show. From Volume 4 onward, the series took a radical shift in tone that tried to be “more mature,” and only succeeded in making the earlier episodes absurd in hindsight. Why, in Volume 6, are the characters concerned about civilian endangerment, when in Volume 2 they happily pursued a giant mech in a highway car-chase scene that would’ve caused untold collateral damage and civilian death? This change in storytelling created a thematic disparity that reoccurs time and time again, retroactively emphasizing just how inconsistent the worldbuilding and storytelling are.

It tried to be Avatar: The Last Airbender, and what we’re left with instead is Game of Thrones Season 8.

Now, I’m not using this blog as a platform to damn Monty Oum (or claim to be a better creator than him). But it’s important to address the flaws in his story, and to acknowledge that his passing doesn’t make RWBY somehow sacrosanct or immune to constructive criticism. RWBY has flaws, ranging from nitpicky to potentially capable of causing real-world harm (in the case of the aforementioned queerbaiting and racism analogies). I’m a firm believer that art doesn’t exist in a vacuum; art is informed by our beliefs just as much as art informs our beliefs. We can still respect and admire the potential RWBY has to offer, while being mindful of where it needs to improve.

That’s where this blog comes in.

At the end of the day, the RWBY Redux exists as a thought experiment. I’m writing it chiefly to entertain worldbuilding ideas and headcanons I’ve spent years musing on. I’m not asking readers to agree with any of my numerous stances, nor am I going to shy away from other fans’ criticism as I hammer this project out. With a little TLC, perhaps I’ll manage to create something that manages to be more complex than its source material. And if you choose to follow along with my endeavors, hopefully you’ll find this project equal parts engaging and entertaining.

Wish me luck.

[nickelkeep]

Last Goodbye

Pairing: Past Gabriel/Sam Rating: Teen Word Count: 1400 Warnings: Brief Suicidal Thought. This is pure angst. There is no happy ending. Written For: @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover​‘s @angsty-angstweek​ On Ao3

Sam didn't know that he was being followed. Gabriel made sure of it. Despite Castiel figuring out quickly that he was still alive, Gabriel begged and pleaded with him to not tell Sam. He caused enough issues in Sam's life, coming back from faked deaths. Gabriel didn't want to interrupt Sam's life yet again.

Gabriel figured he could pull enough strings from behind the scenes. He was already under Billie's command, brought back for the sole purpose of making an army to take down his father. So Gabriel knew there would be no harm in doing a little more and making sure Sam thrived. They were waiting for the opportune time to strike anyway. Billie may have been a little terse with him when he juiced up Eileen. She needed to make contact with Sam faster, as far as Gabriel was concerned. But he honestly did it for Sam, not for Billie's insane war. Sam needed something - someone - good in his life. Even if it wasn't him. Not anymore.

The archangel closed his eyes and listened to the world around him. So many people were completely unaware of what was going on. Of the horrors and the monstrosities that surrounded them. They knew nothing of what Heaven and Hell were actually like. They had no idea of what the Empty was like. Gabriel exhaled abruptly through his nose. In reality, the best-case scenario would be him dying in during the battle and going back to the Empty.

The problem was that the Shadow of the Empty wasn't allowed to touch him. Not yet. Not until Death had done her part and reaped God Himself. Billie laid down the law that anyone released - or who had escaped from - the Empty were to be sent right back to Earth. Despite his father running amok, trying to destroy his own sandbox, Gabriel was almost invulnerable. He could still be stabbed with an Archangel blade, if anyone had one, but that gooey son-of-a-bitch was in direct orders to send him right back.

A flash of light grabbed Gabriel's attention, and he carefully watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. They were both sitting outside, Sam drinking a coffee while looking over something for a hunt. Gabriel sat in his own seat a few tables away and nursed hot chocolate while attempting to spy and eavesdrop. Sam had pulled out his phone and hesitated before dialing. Once sure that Sam wasn't in danger or suffering, Gabriel allowed his mind to drift off.

Gabriel honestly didn't mind the idea of returning to the Empty. No thoughts, no connections, just nothing. There was a little fear that shivered through him, but his heart - what counts for his heart anyway - craved it. None of this pining for Sam that no amount of lovers or candy could ever help him get over.

A part of him was ashamed for wanting it, not that he would ever admit it aloud. How many angels and demons and beasts would wish to be revived if given the opportunity? Besides, Gabriel had been in the Empty before, he should be grateful for the sun kissing his skin.

If he looked back at the time of nothing? The eternal sleep after the other Michael killed him? Not even his own grace and wavelength, but the one from the world where Sam never existed? He never got the chance to get to know Jack or to tease Dean and Cas for being idiots. He never got to tell Sam goodbye.

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel shot to attention, hoping he hadn't brought too much attention to himself. Sam's voice flowed through him, not at him. He mentally checked himself, his glamour was still in place, and there were no other angels around to out him.

"Gabe, I know you're gone. I know that you can’t hear me."

Gabriel sat up a little straighter. He'd been back for a few weeks now, but this was the first time he'd heard Sam. It made Gabriel wonder how often Sam had prayed to him like this?

"I know this is pointless every time I do it, but I don't know what else to do." Gabriel could have sworn that he heard Sam's breath shudder as he exhaled. "I'm lost."

Gabriel fought the urge to go and envelop Sam in his arms, settling instead for a glance.

"I know we're fighting a losing battle. The things… the things that Chuck showed me? Between glimpses of other universes and the future if Cas and Dean had been successful in trapping him? What are we fighting for?" Sam bit his lip and looked around before continuing his silent litany. "What am I fighting for?"

Gabriel contemplated trying to block Sam out. These prayers were supposed to be private, and Sam thought he was praying to a dead angel. There was no way that he would have said them if he knew Gabriel was alive.

"Rowena's gone, ruling over Hell. She's a goddamned queen, and she knows it. You'd be so proud of her. And Eileen? After what Chuck did? After he confirmed that he manipulated me into bringing her back to life?" Sam went silent and Gabriel stole another glance. He watched as Sam wiped at his eyes. "I've lost or am losing everyone I've ever loved."

Gabriel whispered into the wind, "You still have Dean and Cas and your friends."

"I swear, I don't know why I do this. I can almost hear you telling me that I have Dean and Cas, and Jody and Donna, and the girls…" Sam sobbed out a laugh and kept praying. "And this is the part where I would tell you–"

"–That's not what I meant and you know it." Gabriel finished the sentence with him.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, and Gabriel imagined the fingers being his. He pictured himself massaging Sam's scalp, lightly tugging any knots out of the locks. He remembered kissing the top of Sam's head as he twisted braids into his hair, Sam patiently humoring him.

"Gabe, I'd give anything to have you back." Gabriel looked over at Sam, the tears running down his face as he spoke. "I'd do anything to just see you one more time."

Gabriel almost gave in. He almost stood up from his seat. He almost walked across the outside bistro to wrap his arms around Sam. Billie nor the Shadow had said that he couldn't reveal himself to the Winchesters. But Gabriel couldn't put Sam through the pain again. Gabriel couldn't fight away Billie and the Shadow forever.

"I need something, Gabe. Something more." Sam pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I wish I hadn't gone to the portal like you commanded. I wish… I wish that instead of being angry with you, that I had said 'I love you.’"

Gabriel inhaled deeply. "I know, Sammy. I knew how much you loved me – still love me – and I wish that I could be with you."

"Dammit, Gabe, why does it feel like you're here?" Sam picked up his napkin and blew his nose. "Out of all the times I've prayed to you in the past two years… Fuck, for all I know, it's Chuck trying to kick me while I'm down."

Gabriel paused with realization and cursed his father's name. Sam, his Sam, had lost hope. The one who always found hope, even in the bleakest of situations, had given up. The urge to hold him, to tell Sam that he had an army behind him, rose up stronger.

"You know you can't, Gabriel." Billie sat across the table from him.

"You never said I couldn't reveal myself to him."

"Figured you were smart enough to know the consequences if you do." Billie looked at Sam, who was oblivious to her presence. "And I know you don't want to hurt him."

Gabriel paused for a moment and looked at Sam. "I just need…"

"I know, Gabriel. Be smart about it." Gabriel turned back to where Billie sat, to find the spot vacant.

"Fuck you, Billie." Gabriel took a deep breath. He knew that Billie was right. Gabriel closed his eyes and recounted the last few things Sam had prayed during his brief exchange with Death. He looped the images in his own mind, replaying Sam's memories. Sam had seen horrible things in the future where they had trapped Chuck. Gabriel composed himself and whispered one last time into the wind. "Sam, believe in what you see, in what you feel. God can't control your emotions." He watched Sam from his seat. "Know that I'll always love you, Samshine. Even in Death."

Sam sobbed openly at Gabriel's last proclamation. "I love you too, Gabriel.”

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 13:

“And I had a fear of forgiveness

(Said it from the beginning)

I was too proud to say I was wrong

(Said you'd always see me through)

All that time is gone, no more fearing control

I'm ready for the both of us now

But just know that I want you back

Just know that I want you back

Just know that I want you

I'll take the fall and the fault in us

I'll give you all the love I never gave before I left you”

-- Want You Back, HAIM

__________

“Wow.” 

Penelope’s eyes pop open at the sound of Hope’s voice. She sits up and cranes her neck backward just in time to spot Hope climbing through the attic window. 

“Wow?” Penelope asks. She stretches her arms and then cracks her neck from side to side. Falling asleep on the roof hadn’t been her original game plan. No. Far from it. 

But after aimlessly wandering the halls of the school for an hour or so, Penelope had somehow wound up in the one place where she knew she could find a little bit of peace and solitude. And once there, she found that she merely lacked the energy to go anywhere else. So Penelope gave up her fight against the ever-mounting exhaustion of the last few days, curled up with a leftover blanket and closed her eyes.

“Wow,” Hope echoes back and takes a seat next to Penelope.

“So I’m taking it that ‘wow’ is in response to you having read the copy of the journal I left for you?”

Hope nods. “Twice. Cover to cover.”

“Impressive.”

“Had some help with a Celeritas charm, but yeah… I read it twice.”

“And?” Penelope asks with a quirk of her brow.

“And… Wow.”

“You said that already,” Penelope responds.

“I know.” Hope exhales a long breath of air allowing a brief silence to fall between them. “I just… I just don’t know where to start.”

“Fair enough. It’s kinda a lot to process.”

“Kinda?”

Penelope can’t help but let a hint of a smile slip through at these words. “Okay. It’s a shit ton to process. Better?”

“Yes,” Hope replies, matching Penelope’s smile with one of her own. “Did we really take on a pack of rabid werewolves in the middle of the Louvre?”

“Technically it was in the courtyard of the Louvre, but yup... We did. Got a wicked scar behind my left from that one.”

“And Milan?”

“100% true too. It took a good three months for my left eyebrow to grow back but it all happened. Every last fiery moment of it.”

“Caroline’s really a badass, huh?”

“Badass doesn’t even begin to describe it. She’s the reason we survived Milan… and about a million and one other attacks too,” Penelope replies with an underlying bittersweet tone to her voice. 

“Do you miss her?” 

Penelope laughs as if the answer should be obvious. “More than I thought I would. But, weirdly enough, I have this gut feeling that I’ll see her again soon. Like either, I’ll just wind up on her doorstep again one day or she’ll just up and hunt me down. If that makes sense.”

Hope nods with a silent understanding. They sit side by sit for a moment or two, just existing in each other’s presence and the —

“Would it be strange if I said that I’m kinda jealous of my other self?”

“Jealous?” Penelope asks not fully following the Tribrid’s train of thought.

“Maybe jealous isn’t the right word.” Hope exhales and runs her hair over her ponytail. “More like envious? I don’t know… Reading about all those insane things we did, I couldn’t help but wish that I had gotten to experience them firsthand, you know?” 

“Who says they still can’t happen?”

Hope straightens up a bit at these words. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if the journal doesn’t work and history ends up repeating itself then my ass is going to be on the first flight I can grab to Belgium. And, as you already read, I can’t do it alone, so…”

“Are you asking me to go to Belgium with you, Penelope Park?” Hope asks.

Penelope instantly feels her cheeks redden and she shakes her head, in an attempt to downplay the significance of the moment. “No… I just meant… If things don’t…” 

Hope gives Penelope a playful nudge. “Count me in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Hope replies. “Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me, Park. So if you’re going to Belgium, then I am too… Especially if it means I get to wield a crossbow.”

“Deal.”

“Good.” Hope lets out a light laugh and leans her shoulder into Penelope’s. It’s a small gesture, but one that Penelope can’t help but find comforting nonetheless. It’s as if by reading the journal, Hope has somehow become yet even more infused with Penelope’s Hope than ever before. Almost to the point where distinguishing between the two is practically impossible.

“So you gave a copy of the journal to Josie, right?” Hope asks, breaking the silence once again.

“Yup. Hand-delivered it to Lizzie roughly three hours ago.” Penelope replies with a yawn.

“Wait…” Hope whips her head around and locks eyes with Penelope. A noticeable look of sheer horror washes over her face. “You gave the journal to Lizzie?!”

Penelope nods. “Yeah. I went to their dorm room and she’s the one that answered the door, so I--”

“Fuck,” Hope says, cutting Penelope off. She runs her hands over her auburn ponytail, trying her best to keep her ever-rising anxiety at bay. “What if she reads it?”

“So?”

“So? Do you know what’s in there?”

Penelope doesn’t mean to, but she lets out a laugh. “I would hope I know what’s in there. I mean I did live it… Besides, it’s not like Lizzie wasn’t going to find out one way or another.”

“Finding out second-hand tidbits from Josie and reading it word for word are two very different things, Park” Hope fires back. “Oh god, Madrid… Madrid is in there! How am I going to explain Madrid?”

“Breathe, Mikaelson,” Penelope responds with an underlying reassurance to her voice. “Josie’s going to read about Madrid as well, so you’re not the only one that’s going to have some major explaining to do.”

“Right…”

Another momentary silence falls between the two of them as they watch the first rays of the morning sun peek out from the horizon, then—

“So how long do you think it’ll take before Lizzie and Josie hunt you down?” 

Penelope shrugs. “Depends…” 

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on if they cheated like you did and used a Celeritas charm or not,” Penelope replies with a bit of a smirk.

“For the record, I didn’t cheat.” 

“Whatever you say, Furball.”

“I didn’t.” Hope crosses her arms in mild annoyance. “It was 800 pages. It would’ve taken me at least half a day to read it without any help.”

“Only half a day?” Penelope questions and Hope answers with a harder than usual knock to her shoulder.

“Hey! For the record, I--” Hope trails off as something in the distance catches her attention. She slowly rises to her feet as her face transforms into a look of pure and utter concern. 

“Hope?” Penelope asks. Her eyes follow Hope’s and instantly spots tiny black specks moving along the treeline at the edge of the forest.

“Is that…” 

“Yeah… Shit! It’s too soon. Triad isn’t supposed to be here for at least another few hours,” Penelope responds. She runs her hands through her messy raven locks as her mind begins to race. 

She ought to be prepared, but...

But there is no preparation. Not for what’s about to transpire.

“What do we do?” Hope asks, pulling her eyes away from the rapidly approaching tactical swat team and locking them in on Penelope. 

Penelope bites down on her bottom lips for a moment or two and then--

“C’mon… I’ve got an idea.”

__________

“Where are we going again?” Hope asks as she races to keep up the pace with Penelope. The two zig-zag their way through the chaotic sea of confused and panicked students, trying to get down the main staircase without taking anyone out in the process.

In the short matter of time from when they first spotted of Triad to them reaching the main entranceway, the whole school seemingly has been made aware of the incoming attack. 

It’s as if by magic… Or some divine intervention… Or maybe a hybrid of both. Penelope doesn’t have the time nor the energy to decipher who exactly alerted the whole school but is beyond thankful nonetheless. 

“To the basement. Long story, but there’s an anti-magic relic down there that needs to be destroyed and fast. If Triad reaches it first, then they will activate it and we’ll be powerless,” Penelope responds.

“Wait? Why is it down there in the first place?”

“I’ll give you one guess… He’s your pseudo sensei.” 

“Alric?”

“Bingo,” Penelope replies with a huff. 

“Why would he…”

“No time for explanations now.” Penelope and Hope reach the first-floor landing and start to round the corner. “I promise, I’ll--”

“Hope Marie Mikaelson!”

Lizzie’s voice slices through the steady sounds of the ongoing movement causing both Penelope and Hope to freeze dead in their tracks. They slowly turn around just in time to spot the blonde-haired siphoner marching towards them.

“Shit,” Penelope says under her breath. “Liz, this is the best time to--”

“Not now, Satan,” Lizzie cuts Penelope off as she closes the rest of the distance between herself and the two of them. She stops just inches in front of Hope, locking eyes with the Tribrid, and then, without any warning whatsoever, grabs hold of Hope’s cheeks and plants a kiss that is nothing short of life-changing upon her lips. 

Hope’s eyes widen with pure, unexpected shock. She tenses for a split second, unsure of how to react, before giving in to her instincts. Hope threads her hands through Lizzie’s platinum blonde hair, deepening their kiss as she does. This is a moment both Hope and Lizzie have been waiting for since the first time they laid eyes on one another.

And Penelope can’t help but smirk in satisfaction as she watches her best friend fall even harder than ever before in love with Lizzie Saltzman. It’s a moment she’s been secretly waiting to see play out ever since traveling back in time. 

Finally, Hope pulls back out of the kiss and smiles. “That was--.”

“Amazing,” Lizzie finishes Hope’s sentence with an exhale of air. Her face lights up as well, unable to take her eyes off of Hope.

“Yeah… That,” Hope responds still not fully recovered from the sheer shock of the kiss. 

“Ahem.” Penelope clears her throat subtly reminding them of her presence. “As much as I love seeing you two finally come to your senses and all, we’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.” 

“Satan’s right,” Lizzie chimes in causing yet another wave of shock to wash over Hope. “Josie went to go see if she could go track down that relic you mentioned in the journal in our dad’s office while I tracked you two down. We were going to set-up a protection barrier so those gun-toting freaks couldn’t bust in but we couldn’t siphon anything off of the walls.”

“Shit. That means Triad got to the relic,” Penelope replies with a huff of frustration.

“You read the whole journal?” Hope asks Lizzie, eyes growing even wider than ever before.

“Yes. Three times,” Lizzie responds without missing a beat. “And we’ll discuss Madrid later… And the nipple piercings.” 

And Hope just nods, still unable to find her words. 

“What relic?” Lizzie asks, turning her attention back towards Penelope.

“It’s some anti-magic relic that your dad has stashed in the basement. It’s been activated. That’s why you can’t siphon. We need to go destroy it asap in order to get our powers back.” 

“I know a back way into the basement so we can slip in without being detected.”  

“Good.” Penelope pauses for a moment and runs her hands through her raven locks, trying to dispel her growing sense of dread. 

Josie is already in Alric’s office. 

Alone. 

Unprotected.

It’s too close… Way too close for Penelope’s liking.

All it will take is for the wrong member of Triad to show up and--

“I’ll take Hope and we’ll handle the relic. You should go help Josie,” Lizzie says, almost reading Penelope’s thoughts. 

“But--”

“Go, Penelope.” And suddenly there’s a flash of an oddly reassuring look deep within Lizzie’s icy blue eyes. As if to say that on some level or another she gets it. 

“Okay,” Penelope says with a nod. 

“We’ll meet you there when we’re done.” Lizzie takes hold of Hope’s hand and then starts to drag the still dazed Tribrid back through the crowd of fleeing students. She gets all of three steps, though, before stopping once again to look back at Penelope. “Oh, and Park… If you let my sister get shot again, I’ll kill you myself.” 

“Got it.”

Lizzie gives Penelope a smile and then without another moment wasted, disappears into the sea of chaos with Hope trailing right behind her.

__________

Penelope makes it to Alric’s office in record time. She isn’t sure exactly how she manages to do it, but she’s there nonetheless in less than three minutes flat. 

There isn’t a Triad in sight and yet… 

Penelope wraps her hand around the door handle and takes a deep, sobering breath as her ears pick up on the unusual stillness of her surroundings. 

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

There aren’t even the muffled sounds of movement coming from the other side of the door.

Why is it so quiet?

Fear begins to bubble up in the back of Penelope’s throat and she fights the urge to scream out Josie’s name.

Is she too late? 

Has Triad already been here?

Penelope scans the hallway once again for signs-- any signs-- that the black fatigue clad operatives are nearby. But there’s nothing.

Nothing but the stillness.

Penelope takes a moment to swallow down the dry lump of long-repressed emotions and then with all the courage she can muster, she pushes open the office door. 

“Jo--” 

But before Penelope can finish uttering Josie’s name, she feels an object collide with the back of her skull, followed by a sharp pang of blinding pain, and then--

Blackness.