#me when i can always reject my father but i cannot escape my mother's blood

[emmaziadarcy]

You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne.

[gravehags]

his mother's blood

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: EMERITUS FAMILY DRAMAAAAA, tokophobia, revelations, nihil being a fucking shitass, reader being the voice of reason, sister imperator gets a first name and it's exactly what you'd think it is

Words: 2,727

Summary: You know it's just a joke but you can't fight the dread that settles in your stomach the moment the words leave Terzo's mouth.

a/n: this was a lot!!! title comes from the ethel cain lyric "jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mother's blood" :) you know for extra fun family pain

~~~

You feel as if both time and your heart stops the moment the words playfully exit Terzo’s mouth.

So when are you two going to give me a niece or nephew, huh?

The five of you were having a lovely time, sitting around the patio table in the Papas’ courtyard on the early summer evening. The sun had only just started to dip below the horizon and you were already tipsy off the sweet wine Secondo had supplied you with. As soon as Terzo says it you feel the color drain from your face as Copia kneels beside you and reaches for your hand.

“Terzo, don’t–”

You see Primo and Secondo furrow their brows, clearly aware that this is a sensitive topic not to be broached but Terzo doesn’t get the hint and nudges your arm.

“Come on,” he says with a grin, “you’d look so pretty all round and glowing–”

“Silenzio!” Copia shouts as he straightens. You know it’s the liquor that’s making the tears drop one after the other into your lap while your lip quivers and you can’t bring yourself to look at any of them.

“Che cazzo?” Terzo asks, “I’m just poking fun–sorellina, it was just a stupid joke please don’t–”

“You don’t get to joke about that,” Copia says and out of the corner of your eye you see his balled up fist shake, “I don’t want to hear you mention that again ever, do you hear me? I’m not fucking kidding, Terzo Emeritus.”

A stunned silence settles among the brothers while you hastily wipe your tears with the sleeve of your linen button down. You know there’s no way the evening will be recovered after this if you don’t explain why Terzo’s words filled you with such visible dread so you take a deep breath and exhale shakily.

“Do you guys know why Sister Imperator hired me?”

Copia looks down at you, alarmed, and once again kneels by your side.

“Amore, you don’t have to talk about this, it’s none of their business.”

“I know. But I’ve been meaning to ask them for a while…if they knew. If they knew about any of it.”

“Knew about what, fiore?” Primo asks cautiously, steepling his fingers.

“Um…so about…I don’t know a couple, few months back Sister Imperator had me come to her office where she proceeded to tell me that I was hired because–” you take another deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut and then open, “because I was chosen by your Unholy Father…to carry Copia’s child.”

Once again the stunned silence among the five of you is electric. Secondo’s jaw is dropped, Terzo looks horrified, and Primo radiates silent rage.

“What?”

“Y-yeah. She tried to convince me it would be an ‘honor’ despite the fact that I-I told her I don’t want a baby, ever. Tried to tell me I had to do it, that it was my purpose–”

Terzo stands abruptly and the other brothers follow suit. Copia remains squatted next to you holding your hand.

“Guys what are you do–”

“Quella dannata stronza,” Secondo growls, “she’ll pay for this.”

You look around at everyone in a panic.

“No, no, no you can’t let her know that you know a-and she’s backed off on the topic after Copia and I confronted her–”

“Sorellina, we love you, you know that. To know that that woman tried to force a fucking pregnancy on you–unthinkable. She should be excommunicated for even uttering the words to you. Maledetto inferno, this is the last straw.” Terzo grabs your free hand and places a kiss to the back of it. “You do not need to come, bella mia. You do not need to see this. Neither of you do.”

You gently pull your hand from Copia’s and stand, wiping off your cheeks.

“I think I - we - should be there to keep you from…from I don’t know, doing anything you’ll regret. Copia and I have already gotten our piece said with her after she tried to fire me–”

“She what?!” Secondo halfway roars. Primo is already gone down the cloister corridor and the four of you hustle after him. He leads you to an area of the abbey you’ve passed by but never entered which you assume is Sister Imperator’s wing. Primo approaches a door and doesn’t knock, instead flinging it open with such force you wince at the sound of the doorknob denting the drywall. In the large sitting room, in two high backed dark green chairs are Nihil, in his usual vestments and Sister Imperator, who wears a dark red robe snugly cinched around her. Nihil has a deep scowl etched into his wizened features but Sister only looks mildly irritated as if she’s misplaced her phone.

“Gentlemen, what is the meaning of–”

“Stronza!” Primo thunders, and you recoil in shock from the volume of his voice. Copia holds you tightly next to him by your elbow. “How dare you, how fucking dare you attempt to force a child on this girl.”

She looks at you with such raw contempt it makes your stomach roil with nausea.

“Really?” she asks, addressing you and Copia, “The two of you couldn’t keep this to yourselves?”

“The fact that they didn’t tell us sooner is a blessing to you,” Secondo snarls, stepping in front of you and Copia and breaking her line of sight. “I would have killed you myself if–”

“Silence, boy,” Nihil barks from his chair, “and remember to whom you are speaking.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, old man,” Secondo hisses, his eyes burning, “but since you insist on inserting yourself, how could you fucking agree to this?”

Nihil scoffs.

“Don’t be stupid, this was the will of the Council. Sister was simply enforcing their decision. And she was right to do so, it is an honor. One clearly unworthy of this–”

“Be very careful about the next words that leave your mouth, Nihil,” Copia says softly and for the first time in the year of knowing him you feel a horrible thrill at the idea of what he would do for you. Everyone falls silent.

“The Council knew?” Secondo says, clearly floored by this information, “Psaltarian would never have agreed to this, let alone the Director…something that is such a clear violation of the tenets of our religion?”

“Why?” Terzo interjects quietly, “Why was it so important that Copia of all people have a child?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Sister Imperator says, idly studying her fingernails. You feel Copia squeeze your arms as he holds you tighter to him. Secondo and Terzo glance at one another, clearly puzzled. Primo turns to look at you both, apologetic.

“The Antichrist need not have a bloodline,” he says softly and Copia inhales sharply next to you. You see Terzo’s jaw drop and the color drain from Secondo’s face. 

“You knew?” When Copia speaks, his voice makes you jump. “You–you knew?”

The mounting anger in his tone has you panicking, turning to him to console him but he’s staring Primo down with such fury it makes you shy away from him. At once, Secondo is at his side gripping his bicep as Terzo gently extricates you from Copia’s ever tightening grip.

“Copia, I always suspected but–”

“You fucking raised me!” Copia shouts, and the raw betrayal cracking his voice instantly makes tears spring to your eyes. You try to go to Copia’s side to comfort him but Terzo holds you snug against him with a strength you did not expect. “You were more of a father to me than this pezzo di merda–” he gestures sharply to Nihil, whose mouth is pulled in a severe frown but blessedly stays silent, “a-and you just let me grow up thinking I was some kind of freak? With no explanation?”

“Topolino, you–”

“Don’t fucking ‘topolino’ me, Primo.”

“Copia,” Primo says, softly but with great power, “I only ever had suspicions. It was bad enough that I - that any of us - couldn’t officially acknowledge you as our brother, how could I hoist this burden upon you as well? If it were true, I knew that in time you would come to realize it…I just never expected the knowledge to be wielded like a weapon by someone so vile–”

“By his mother,” Sister Imperator says, her voice loud and clear. The brothers turn to look at her, stunned, then look to Nihil.

“Even more unconscionable,” Primo says after a moment, his voice low. “To not only place disgusting expectations on the woman he loves but to expect him to blindly go along with it…where were you when he had doubts as a child? When he cried at night from his bad dreams? When we celebrated every birthday, just the four of us, convinced that Copia’s mother was dead just like the rest of ours? We expected the worst from him–” Primo jerks his head towards Nihil, “--but how dare you try to step in now forty-nine years after abandoning him, pretending to give a shit about him or his purpose. Shame on you, Mary.”

Everyone in the room inhales sharply and you’re shocked at the reveal of her true name. You expect her to look infuriated but when you glance at her all you see on her handsome face is exhaustion. You remember her words in her office about how Copia was taken from her as a baby and you’re filled with sickening remorse.

“That’s not right,” you say softly, and everyone swivels to you, “s-she didn’t have a choice. The Council insisted she give up all ties to Copia after his birth. She’s been a shitty mom, I’m not arguing that and I’m not defending her…but so much of it wasn’t her choice.”

You extricate yourself from Terzo’s grasp and walk the length of the room to stand by Imperator’s side. The brothers look stunned and Copia gives you a tiny, gentle smile.

“Listen, I didn’t tell you guys about this shit so everyone could fight about it or bring up anything else. I told you because this is a family and I wanted to be on the level with all of you. Because I want to be a part of it. I’m so…tired of the fucking tension between us,” you gesture between you and Sister Imperator, “on the topic. I’m done, I’m over it. It’s not happening and she knows that a-and the Council knows that. Right, Sister?”

You look at the woman next to you, your lips in a taut line, and her gaze softens to something that resembles respect.

“Exactly,” she says, matter-of-factly, “it’s water under the bridge, gentlemen.”

“Enough of this bullshit,” Nihil whines, and everyone jumps after having forgotten that he was even in the room. “Doesn’t anyone care what I have to say?”

You swear in the chorus of “no’s” that echo throughout the room you hear Sister’s voice and you bite your cheek to keep from smiling.

“Are we done here?” she says, straightening her robe, “Because my programs are about to come on and–”

“Yeah, we’re done,” Copia says, and you leave her side to come to his. “Goodnight, Sister. Goodnight, Papa.”

She nods at him with a smile while Nihil waves his hand dismissively, turning from his four sons to continue playing Candy Crush on his phone. Primo, Secondo, Terzo, and Copia all file out of the room but as you’re about to cross the threshold you hear your name being called from behind you. When you turn around, Imperator is smiling at you peculiarly from her chair.

“You continue to surprise me, dear. Well done handling the situation,” she says and you swear she gives you a small wink.

“Yeah uh, you’re welcome for not letting Secondo kill you, I guess,” you say with a nod before exiting and shutting the door behind you. Copia is waiting for you, giving you a look just as peculiar as Sister’s.

“What?” you ask softly, taking his hand.

“Nothing. I just love you, you know?”

He draws you in and you rest your forehead on his shoulder, his hand tenderly cupping your skull. The two of you hold one another for a moment and you both jump when you feel another body and arms enveloping you both.

“I am so sorry, topolino,” Primo murmurs as he strokes Copia’s hair, “and you, fiore mio, you should have never have had to hear any of that bullshit from start to finish.” He turns to place a kiss on the top of your head and suddenly you’re aware of another pair of arms wrapping around your little group. When you lift your head, Terzo grins at you before waving Secondo over.

“Come on you grumpy old fuck,” he says and you hear Secondo scoff.

“I’m only a year older than you, idiota,” he growls, but you feel him join the pod all the same. It takes a bit of straining, but you’re able to look up at Copia, who has his eyes shut as if he’s trying to cement the moment into his memory. It fills you with such affection, not just for your beloved, but for all the men surrounding you, and you sigh.

“Love you guys,” you murmur, and Terzo’s hand comes up to pet your hair.

“And we love you, sorellina.”

“Had you said the word, I would have killed her on the spot with my bare hands,” Secondo says, his voice muffled by Copia’s back. “I’ve been looking for an excuse.”

“That’s…actually really sweet in a fucked up way. Thanks for having my back.”

“Can we leave this hallway before we overhear Sister and Nihil fucking because–”

The five of you separate, everyone either making violent retching noises or groaning.

“That’s my mother, stronzo,” Copia finally says, giving Terzo a dirty look.

“And your father too, unfortunately,” Primo grimaces, leading the group back down the hall, “but at least you have the benefit of being able to claim a different father, topolino. We’re stuck with him.”

You wrap your arm around Copia’s waist as you exit the wing and he wraps his around your shoulder.

“I eh, don’t know about all of you,” your love begins, “but I could use a fucking drink after that. Secondo…?”

“On it,” Secondo says, striding down the hall ahead of you in the direction of the kitchen. Eventually the group makes its way back to the round patio table, and a shiver runs through you.

“Shit, it’s cold now that the sun’s gone down,” you announce, “and if I’m going to keep drinking I need something to eat because I do not want to end the night with Copia holding my hair. Let’s go meet Secondo and see if I can bully him into making me a grilled cheese.”

Primo and Terzo both snort.

“‘Bully him’ as if he wouldn’t bend over backwards for you, piccolina,” Terzo says, imitating his brother’s voice when he says the endearment. You swat at his arm.

“Stai zitto, stronzo,” you snap playfully and Primo and Copia both turn to you looking impressed.

“She’s been doing the eh, Duolingo app,” Copia explains, and you smile at the pride in his voice, “Well done, amore mio.”

“Non è niente di speciale,” you say demurely with a wide grin. Terzo cheers loudly as the four of you enter the kitchen.

“Be quiet, you fucking animal,” Secondo snarls from his place at the stove, where he’s currently pressing a spatula into two pieces of bread between which cheese oozes. Terzo turns to you and winks.

“Told you,” he says with a smirk before heading off in the direction of the wine cellar. Primo shakes his head and takes a seat at the small table in the corner and Copia pulls you into his side to place a wet kiss to your temple.

“Love you, dolcezza,” he murmurs. When his hand drifts to the small of your back you’re reminded of the first time you set foot in this kitchen and the way he comforted you after you burned the bruschetta. You look over at Primo, who yawns wide, then over to Secondo, who is singing under his breath as he flips your sandwich, to Terzo, who bounds into the room with way too much energy and carrying an alarming number of wine bottles. You look over at Copia.

“Ti amo di più.”

[marylily-my-beloved]

Family tree (intro) = Andromeda 

These crosses all over my body, remind me of who I used to be 

Andromeda always had scars, whether mental or physical, that she couldn’t heal. She didn’t know why, not even magic worked. Everyday when she looked in the mirror, she saw them, and in those scars she saw her family, and her old life. 

Jesus can always reject his father 

Andromeda escaped them, escaped their politics, their life, she had truly escaped them and rejected who she could’ve been. 

But he cannot escape his mothers blood 

Yet Andromeda couldn’t get their stain off of her, they were always going to be with her.  Toujours Pur. She would still never be pure. In her own standards, and in theirs. 

He’ll scream and try and wash it off of his fingers 

In the first of weeks when she had escaped she could feel them everywhere, hear them everywhere. She tried so hard to forget everything she had been taught, and it wasn’t supposed to be that hard. She was stained by them anyways, she couldn’t just leave without some bits of them clinging onto her. 

But he’ll never escape what he’s made up of 

Andromeda could hear their voices, yelling at her. It was even worse because Bellatrix and Narcissa tried so hard to go up to her during school. At some point they had given up, just shit-talking her to others. She couldn’t ever escape them it seemed. Even years and years after, the Family Name still got to her. They didn’t know her as Andromeda Tonks, they knew her as the blood-traitor, Andromeda Black. 

The Fates already fucked me sideways

She would never get a normal life because of them. Andromeda had escaped their house, but not them. It had seemed like Fate was always destined to hurt her. 

He’ll laugh and say ‘you know I raised you better than this’ 

She became the example of ‘not pure’, the example of a bad person in their eyes. Regulus and Sirius were taught not to be like her, and for Sirius she was the example to look up to. Draco never knew of her, until later, and still then Narcissa told him not to be like her. 

Than leave me hanging so they all can laugh at me

Andromeda became the laughing stock of the Sacred 28, the one who tried to escape. She became the laughing stock of the Black Family too, they all laughed at her attempts to leave them, knowing that she would never truly escape them. She became the laughing stock of the school, every pure blood made fun of her, luckily it was only her last year. She lost all her friends, everyone. All she had was Ted.  —-

I know this is a bit wordy but I tried lol 😭 I’ve had this in my head for sooo long and I finally wrote it down !!

[ready2bl0w]

Dante and Vergil Music Headcanons (featuring playlists)

Dante

In my opinion, Dante comes across as someone who dabbles in a variety of genres, although he’s not without his favorites. He certainly favors rock and R&B above all. With Dante, he’s busting out your typical “Dad Rock” artists, alongside some industrial (I swear I’m not saying this because I'm a rivethead). He definitely listens to Nine Inch Nails. Pretty Hate Machine is his favorite album. He listens to some KMFDM (Ready to Blow and Stray Bullet are both Dante-coded). He’s an absolute sucker for that signature rugged mechanical sound. It scratches something in his brain. On the more classic side of things, Dante enjoys his fair share of SOAD, Guns N’ Roses, Alice in Chains, Melvins (does that count as “Dad Rock”???), AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Pearl Jam, and some of the heavier Nirvana tracks. I mean, I could go on and on, but this is just a small scope of what kind of rock he’s bumping.

In terms of R&B, Michael Jackson is a given. I also picture Dante listening to a lot of “hornier” tracks and artists. Thinking Adina Howard's Freak Like Me, Ginuwine’s Pony, and just all of Jodeci in particular. Prince and Janet Jackson are among his favorites as well (he often hums Nasty to himself). Sir Mix-A-Lot would also be in his rotation. Select songs, but nonetheless, when he comes on, Dante can’t help but bob his head ever so slightly to those raunchy tunes.

His guilty pleasures are Barbie Girl and anything the Vengaboys make.

Vergil

Classical music is a given. Tchaikovsky, Wagner, and Mozart are among his favorites. Aside from that, I’ll be honest, I’m unsure as to what else he listens to. Not very familiar with the eldest twin. Although, I can see him playing some tunes from “The Phantom of The Opera,” “Carmen,” and the like (perhaps on an old record player he managed to get his hands on. I imagine he takes jobs alongside Dante sometime after they return from hell, so…). Once he’s settled into the human world, as best as he can, I imagine him experimenting with some gothic music, mainly tracks heavy with orchestral instruments. OH! Add 20’s - 40’s jazz to that as well. Specific songs, however. Not that many, in fact.

Many of the songs listed in the playlist below are NOT songs Vergil would listen to (unfortunately, I don’t think he’d give Bad Apple a try). However, I find the lyrical content fits Vergil well—sometimes to a T.

Take Ethel Cain’s Family Tree (Intro). The second verse goes:

Jesus can always reject his father, But he cannot escape his mother's blood. He'll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers, But he'll never escape what he's made up of.

While Vergil cannot reject his father, he certainly can’t escape the human blood Eva has passed onto him. He does his absolute best to cast away his humanity, operating with the sole purpose of gaining power so that he may never be that helpless boy, pierced by demons and left behind by his family. His efforts are in vain, however, and we see that his humanity still lingers inside him through V.

“He’ll never escape what he’s made up of.”

His guilty pleasure? Earth, Wind & Fire’s Let’s Groove, of course.

[ninyard]

Nonsense but I’m just putting this here too to talk about how ethel cain songs especially the preacher’s daughter are perfect for some characters mostly the ravens and renee and I just wanted to hear some opinions so these are some lyrics which I think fits them all well :

Older brother made a name for himself with the cops, Scumbag fuck, but I swear that he's not, He's so good to me and to nobody else , So you should watch yourself (kevriko)

Jesus can always reject his father / But he cannot escape his mother's blood /He'll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers / But he'll never escape what he's made up of (kevin)

Blessed be the children /Each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence ( the ravens and just the children of the moriyamas/ weninski and day family )

These crosses all over my body / Remind me of who I used to be/ And Christ, forgive these bones I'm hiding ( renee and maybe Nicky )

Am I making you feel sick ? ( Jean to Kevin and kevin to riko )

The Fates already fucked me sideways / Swinging by my neck from the family tree He'll laugh and say,/ You know I raised you better than this" / Then leave me hanging, so they all can laugh at me ( the moriyamas and kevin )

I was too young to notice that some types of love could be bad ( kevin )

We all know how it goes / The more it hurts, the less it shows ( the ravens, Kevin and neil ?? )

I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood/ I am here now, as you run from me still Run then, child / You can't hide from me forever ( nathan and nathaniel (neil) )

I'm not scared of God, I'm scared he was gone all along Who will take the fall? Who of us is stronger? ( kevin and riko )

Too tired to move, too tired to leave ( Jean ? )

And it hurts to miss you, but it's worse to know/ That I'm the reason you won't come home (kevjean)

And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night / But God, I just hope you're doing fine out there, I just pray that you're alright

( kevjean?? )

kevjean song lyrics will literally never cease to devastate me. like what do u mean every song is about them and every single one of them hurts

[myst1cals]

LOVE'S RAGE .. an assortment of lyrics from the artist ethel cain.

i love the way it feels to miss you.

'cause what's the point if you're not by my side?

can you read my mind?

i've been watching you.

i only want him if he says it first to me.

and piss him off until he hates me.

good men die too, so i'd rather be with you.

could you be someone else, if someone else is what i need?

you have tasted love and it tasted sweet.

don't sink in me with your dog teeth.

call me what you want and i'll be that.

he's mean, i'm meaner.

oh, babe, i'm too good for you and it makes me need it even more.

show me where it hurts and i'll lick better.

he's so good to me and nobody else.

i'm bad, he's worse.

i'm not scared of god, i'm scared that he was gone all along.

he hates the way you look at me.

i've loved before, i'll kill again.

everything hurts except for you.

and i like thinking i'm no different from you.

am i not good enough for you?

baby, don't you lie to me.

is there someone who has your heart that keeps you gone, away from me?

do you not love me like you did?

'cause i love you more than i thought i could.

'cause i don't hate you like i know i should.

tell me i'm no one else's but yours.

you're like an angel, nothing can touch you.

you know my weakness, but you don't know what i'd do.

i know i'm gonna lose you, but god i don't want to.

i know i don't need you, but i'm terrified of letting you go.

how am i supposed to feel good about myself when everything i do is wrong?

and we've been cursed since the start.

see it on your face, you won't change in your ways.

jesus can always reject his father, but he cannot escape his mother's blood.

trouble's always gonna find you, baby.

i've killed before and i'll kill again.

where you're still the good guy, i'll play pretend.

you wanna get my clothes off.

you're all the same, black leather and dark glasses.

he's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed.

something they all want that only you can have.

you wanna see me on my knees.

and if you hate me, please don't tell me.

you love blood too much.

suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee.

i am the face of love's rage.

i am no good nor evil, simply i am.

i have come to take what is mine.

i was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood.

you can't hide from me forever.

[izzysimcns]

ethel cain x ian gallagher

misc list of lyrics that fit him to a tee.

"u fell in love with america when you were twelve years old"

army ian do i need to say more? i also think about how interesting it is that the americana aesthetic has been so linked to the "sad girl" genre.

"hes in love with my body that's why he's fucking it up"

"ill lay on the floor, touch me till i vomit"

"i was too young to notice"

i 100% want to expand on this soon because his relationship with sex is so sad and the show is so and at addressing it.

"i am poison in the water and unhappy"

"he more it hurts, the less it shows'

"nine going on eighteen"

"god loves you, but not enough to save you"

literally all of strangers. like all of it

"daddy's left and momma won't come home, oh, uh"

"mama’s comatose, she can’t leave the bed something smells rotten and it starting to spread"

"Jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mother's blood. he'll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers but he'll never escape what he's made up of

[foxdev1l]

you need to share more of your thoughts because i know they are good tell me tell me tell me teeeell meeeee

thank you so much for this sweet message. since it's kept vague, i wasn't sure what kind of thoughts you wanted to hear, but i've recently spent a lot of time thinking about and writing down notes about a/b/o headcanons for the rg characters which you might be interested in. i've got notes for basically all of them, but Six's headcanon kind of grew a mind of its own. if anyone's interested in more, feel free to let me know

◇Sierra Six – Shed Skin◇

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54652036

Wordcount: 2.507

Summary: Six does not feel comfortable in his own skin

A/N: much love to @hollandstrophyhusband for helping me brainstorm and beta reading this for me. i hope you guys enjoy my little spin on Six and the omegaverse. might write a second part one day, who knows. there was some talk about six/colt...

Content warnings: nsfw, canon typical violence, self-destructive behavior, rough sex, dub con, identity issues

He presents unusually late, at the age of fifteen, and without any prior warning. It's almost like he's grown a second skin, one that is simultaneously too large and too tight on his scrawny body.

Courtland expects to feel relief. He's an Alpha, after all, the only child to follow in his father's footsteps.

His mother is born an Omega, awfully timid and quiet, and too afraid to raise her voice. His brother has presented as a Beta young, too gentle and too defiant at the same time. His father has always resented them both for different reasons.

So Court should be relieved, to have dodged a bullet, to escape his father's cutting disappointment.

But then his father takes one look at him, his ragged features contorted into a strange expression, something almost akin to pride. He sweeps his gaze over Court's haggard form, breathes in the heavy stench of a newly presented Alpha, and smiles. The smile is twisted, foreign, wrong; like the newly grown skin pulled taut over his frail bones.

Court feels nothing but repulsion.

“I don't think it fits,” he tells his father.

“It doesn't need to fit,” his father says, the contentment on his face turning sharper, more dangerous. “Just wear it like you own it.”

And so he does.

He tells himself things can be different. That it is still about choice. That his second skin does not come sodden in blood. He can learn to be comfortable wearing it, can accept his status, and still reject society's expectations. He can grow up to be a better Alpha than his old man ever was.

It's only when he's standing above the dying body of his father – the powder burns from his gun tainting his fingers black – that he's struck with the sudden realization that he's always been destined to inherit the violence of his father; that this blood-lusting rage is so deeply carved into his DNA, he cannot have one without the other.

He hardly gets any time to think the first few years locked behind bars. He's too busy avoiding becoming a target. He makes himself bigger than he's ever been, plays his part as the aggressive and strong Alpha, and it feels wrong, sickening, but it doesn't matter because this is not about his comfort but the mere act of survival.

He doesn't experience a proper rut until the CIA has him catching the chain. The abuse and trauma he physically and mentally had to endure over his lifetime have taken a toll on his system and fucked with his hormones enough to suppress any prior ruts.

Though he's never experienced one, he's heard of it. How it takes over one's body and mind, burning up the insides with a maddening fever of raw lust.

Court mainly feels pain.

The CIA pairs him up with an Omega. Court is far too gone to protest at that point, but he doubts it would've mattered anyway. The CIA doesn't seem to care much about his autonomy.

He doesn't know the Omega's name, can barely make out their face past his blurred vision. But he knows what's expected of him.

The Omega is nothing more than a piece of meat for the CIA to dangle in front of him, not much unlike a gnarled bone thrown in front of a starving dog. He's supposed to claim them, feast on them, gorge himself on their willingness to submit.

The Omega tells him it's alright, that they don't mind his roughness, the bruises he leaves behind no matter how much he tries to hold back. Court almost wishes they wouldn't have said anything at all.

His rut ends eventually, the fever subsiding without him ever finding relief. The Omega is taken away quickly afterward. Court never sees them again.

The CIA has provided him with a soulless room in a depressing, gray building, and he's allowed a break, an undisturbed couple of days to gather himself back up.

He takes a shower to try and wash away the last traces of his rut, turns the heat all the way up. It burns him worse than the rut but he doesn't step away from the water. Instead, he uses his hands and nails to scrub, scrub, scrub his skin raw, till it's red, red, red, but still there. Despite everything, it's still a part of him no matter how hard he tries to get rid of it.

He wants nothing more than to shed his own skin, peel it away until it detaches from his flesh, tear it apart, so all that remains is a bloody and shredded framework of bones.

What he once reluctantly accepted and exploited for the sake of safety and survival, he's now grown to outright despise, to reject.

He showers multiple times a day over the next week, rubbing and clawing at his skin until it's stung and irritated. It doesn't make him feel better, only leaves him aching and longing for a different life.

Once his break is up, the CIA gets his training underway. It's brutal and laborious and keeps him busy once more, but it also makes everything worse. The once scrawny, lanky boy has grown into a strong, deadly man who seems to fit every stereotype he's sworn to dismantle.

His hands seem to be constantly coated in blood nowadays. He has to stop looking into the mirror when his reflection keeps twisting into the wilted image of his father.

At least he gets put on heavy military-grade suppressants. It berefts him of his ruts and fucks with his pheromones enough to dampen the aggressive smell of his Alpha; but above else, it mainly makes him numb. Court doesn't complain. It's better than the alternative.

He tries to keep to himself, avoid other Alphas at all costs though that's not always possible. He hates it, feels so out of place, uncomfortable, and strangely alien when he's around others.

Rumors begin to spread like wildfire, and as much as he tries to stay unbothered, it makes his hackles rise. They assume he's an omega because why else would he be so tight-lipped, act so odd and deflective whenever the topic gets brought up.

He doesn't know what to think of that. The word Omega doesn't feel as scalding as its counterpart, but it still doesn't fully seem to fit.

It's a bitterly cold winter night when Six makes the decision to hook up with an Alpha for the first time. He finds him in a seedy bar, his cheeks flushed and lashes wet from the snow.

He's freshly off a mission. The gun has left indents in the palm of his hand and he believes he can still feel the sticky, crawling sensation of blood despite the hour-long shower he took.

The alpha is leaning against the beer-sodden bar when Six spots him, nursing a cheap whiskey with one big, calloused hand. He's tall, taller than the Sierra agent, a burly, broad frame with a handsome, aged face.

The stranger turns, then, meeting his gaze dead-on. Six's pulse ticks up, his insides twisting. He isn’t quite sure whether it's from arousal or repulsion.

His instincts are reeling deep below his sternum but he's feeling daring, still drunk on the adrenaline-fueled high of his most recent kill and desperately chasing for more, to break through the heavy, numbing haze of the suppressants.

He ends up with his face shoved against the rough wall behind the bar. The stranger doesn't grant him the comfort of a bed, merely tugs down both of their pants as far as necessary and kicks Six's feet apart. Six thinks he prefers it this way.

The man's merciful enough to work Six open, though it still hurts when he pushes inside. They have nothing but a condom, and Six has never done this before, is hardly prepared to take a single finger, much less the thick cock of another fucking Alpha.

The Alpha's obnoxious scent is filling up the entire alleyway. It's thicker than the smoke of cigars, impenetrable like the billowing fumes of the streets. It clogs up Six's nose, lays heavy on his tongue, sharp and bitter all at once.

Everything about the experience is uncomfortable; the fingers in his hair, tugging and pulling and pressing his cheek into the sharp bricks; the hand on his hip, digging into his bones, squeezing bruises into his flesh; the mouth on him, panting against the shell of his ear, licking and biting up the side of his throat.

Six flinches away when teeth scrape over the skin just below his scent gland but he doesn't get far. The Alpha crowds him further against the wall, keeping an unbreakable hold on him as he relentlessly thrusts into him from behind.

A grunt escapes Six's bloody lips, gut twisting in fear but when the stranger reaches out and grabs his cock, it's already painfully hard and it doesn't take long for him to spill all over the Alpha's sweaty hand.

The Alpha doesn't stop, taking more pleasure than he draws from him, and Six is left to moan against the cold brick wall. He's cold and his legs are trembling by the time the Alpha finishes and pulls away.

“You're not an Omega,” the stranger acknowledges and Six just shrugs because his lungs have yet to fill up with oxygen again.

“And neither are you a Beta.”

Six shakes his head.

The man regards him with a flat, unreadable expression, “I didn't peg you as an Alpha.”

Six simply spits a glob of blood onto the dirt-stained pavement, the inside of his cheek sore where he's bitten through it. Then he shrugs once more and stumbles away, out of the alleyway and back into the shadows.

It becomes a common occurrence after that. The CIA keeps him on a short leash but Six still finds time to slip away every few weeks. He goes looking for meaningless fucks with willing Alphas every chance he gets, in the dark corners of whatever shabby bar is closest to him. He keeps seeking them out no matter how uncomfortable they make him feel.

It's painful, shameful, to be reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess under the aggressive grasp of another Alpha, but he cannot help himself. There is a certain thrill at being forced to give up control. It's strangely alluring, addicting.

He doesn't get off on the pain. In fact, he deeply despises it. But there is a certain sense of detachment that comes with it. It's still not enough to chip away his second skin, but it makes it less restricting, more bearable, gives him something else to focus on.

And then Lloyd comes along and ruins everything.

Lloyd manages to do something no one else has ever done before – he takes one look at Six, gasping and writhering where he's pushed into the wall, chin forcefully tilted back with the muzzle of a gun, and sees right through him.

“Ohh,” he croons, “What a little, pathetic Alpha you are.” He leans in, nuzzles at the column of Six's throat, digs the gun deeper to expose more of the heated flesh.

Gritting his teeth, Six keeps himself deathly still. He swallows down a rising growl, not willing to give Lloyd the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Or,” Lloyd continues, “Is it Omega?” His smile is full of teeth, his leer predatory, and Six does the only thing he can think of.

He fishes for the grenade safely tucked in the pocket of his pants, and pulls the safety pin.

In hindsight, he should've killed Lloyd then and there.

What follows isn't Six's fault. He is aware of that even though it doesn't stop the guilt from eating away at him. His handler is dead, his protégé traumatized, and Six just yearns for a fucking nap.

He's never felt such deep-rooted anger like he does for Lloyd. The Alpha is loud and arrogant and violent, and Six would've torn his fucking face off if Suzanne hadn't stopped him in form of a bullet to his thigh.

The next few weeks are a blur of heavy sedatives and strong pain medication. He's used to feeling trapped but the cuffs binding him to the hospital bed make him sick to his stomach. He finds great satisfaction in ripping them apart.

Tracing Claire's whereabouts is easier than expected and it pisses him off because the CIA obviously doesn't care enough to provide a proper safe house.

He steps onto the property, the smell of blood of his guards at the hospital still sticking to his clothes. The violence of his actions, though necessary, has torn something open deep inside him, a festering wound he fears will never heal again.

Perhaps he is his father's son, after all. Perhaps he's never been anything else.

He feels like a stranger, not only in his skin but his very own bones as he gets closer to the safe house.

His body aches, most of his injuries still not fully healed but he sets his jaw and pushes forward. Breaking open a window at the back of the building, he heaves himself up onto the ledge.

As soon as both his feet are flat on the ground, he goes to work, not daring to waste time. The suppressants have dulled his scent enough to stay hidden as he puts down the vinyl cover and a sloppily written note.

Incapacitating the guards hardly takes any effort. It doesn't bring him any satisfaction, only further rips and gashes at the wound inside. But it's worth it in the end, when all is done, and the blood has begun to dry, and Six pushes open the door separating him from Claire.

Being reunited after being forcefully pried apart feels a bit surreal. Claire looks tired, worn, but her smile is sincere as she clings to him, her nails sharp as claws where they dig into Six's shoulders but he doesn't have the heart to step away.

Instead, he buries his face into her hair, catching the subdued but familiar scent of a young Alpha; intense but gentler somehow, softened by the sweet and mellow taste of wild flowers dried by the sun.

Claire.

The scent slips below his skin easily, effortlessly, soothing the ragged edges of the wound beneath.

Claire is still so awfully young. Too young to be burdened by bearing the weight of her status. And yet, she does not seem to let it drag her down. Despite being impressionable and at the mercy of her biology, through all the illness and grief and trauma, the brutality of the last few weeks – she's remained unchanged.

Her eyes are still kind, her touch still gentle, and her heart untinged.

Six presses her tighter against his chest, his grip white-knuckled where it's clutching the back of Claire's shirt. He takes a moment, then, allows himself to linger, to breathe in the soft, calming scent of his protégé. For once, it does not feel like he's suffocating in the confinement of his own skin.

[melit0n]

In no particular order, (or in order, if you can rank them) what are your top 5 Ethel Cain songs? 🎤

Oh Tonee, this is like opening up one of five music based Pandora boxes for me 😭 please forgive the rambling.

Family Tree from Preacher's Daughter

This song drives me MAD. I could talk about her vocals in every song, but her voice in this makes me buzz. The bass throughout is ominous and incredible: same can be said for the SFX. I'm a sucker for when artists add in extra things like that. The flies put me on edge (which links it to Ptolemaea and eventually Sun Bleached Flies) and the bell ringing out during the first chorus makes me feel like I'm attending a funeral. Literally 'for whom the bell tolls', which kind of foreshadows her death later on in the album.

I genuinely think the lyrics are the closets I've come to a religious experience. "They say 'Heaven hath no fury like a woman's scorn', and baby Hell don't scare me, I've been times before." Insane. Ate and left not a single crumb. Her dead tone on "I've killed before and I'll kill again", being a callback to Two-Headed Mother's "I've loved before, I'll kill again" is just. Ugh. I can't even describe it.

+ Special mention to Family Tree (intro). I haven't, and will probably never, get over "Jesus can always reject his father, but he cannot escape his mother's blood."

Televangelism from Preacher's Daughter

There's very few songs, to me, that encapsulate a painful yet quiet death well, and this is certainly one of them. It's a solemnly comforting tune. Considering lore wise, it's meant to represent Ethel's soul coming out of the basement after she's been killed, it makes sense.

The first half genuinely sounds like something the pianist in my Catholic School used to play before prayer started. The fact that it was entirely improvised is absolutely insane, too.

Plus, the incredibly smooth switch from August Underground to this is brilliant.

Ptolemaea from Preacher's Daughter

Literally every part of this song is amazing (pretty much all of Preacher's Daughter is a work of art to be honest). It's definitely one of the few songs that genuinely unnerves me; still has the same creeping, fearful effect after the hundreds of time that I've listened to it.

First, off: The title is a reference to the ninth and final layer of Dante's Inferno: betrayal. Ptolemy commits treachery (a betrayal of trust), which lands him in the ninth circle, hence its name. This is what Isaiah does to Ethel. It's a somewhat niche reference that I love.

Secondly, Death's monologue (some people also interpret this voice as Isaiah, the man who kills and cannablises Ethel by the end of PD, but I'm just generalising it as The Grim Reaper) is so, so eerie. The repetition switching between "Heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you" to "Need you, love you, love you, love you" with Ethel screaming and asking for him to stop in the background always gives me chills.

Thirdly, all the lyrics go hard in this one. "Calling me the one, I'm the white light: beautiful, finite", "Even the iron still fears the rot" and "I am the face of love's rage" are some of my favourites.

Honestly? The entire song puts me on edge. Listening to it, I feel like I'm millimetres away from the sharp point of a knife. The build up to her screaming "stop" is full of panic, but cathartic.

Two-Headed Mother from Inbred

The distorted guitar at the start mixed with her vocals itches my brain so well. Her tone and dictation in this is really 'soft' too, and more spoken than sang, which I adore. It sounds less like a song and more like being hummed an eerie tune as you drift in and out of sleep.

Overall, despite the topic (of both the song and album in general: it's called Inbred for a reason) the beat is an absolute groove. Never in my life would I have expected a song about trauma passed on from a mother so a daughter to have such a blend to it.

On the note of the topic, just, hello?? It mixes a mother's hatred and love and passes it down to a child who sees it in every man she sees. Let alone paints her lover in a horrible image in order to remove guilt from how badly she's treating him. Just how her dead mother still has dictation over her, she exerts the same amount of control on her lover. She knows very well that her two headed mother brought her here and can send her right back.

Head in the Wall from Golden Age

This one just encapsulates so, so much religious based anger and debilitating depression. Every single lyric oozes with pain and I always have to like, sit down when this comes on.

Growing up a Catholic kid, in a not so nice religious environment, yeah. Just yeah. Misogyny was rife and "It's always my fault: girls will be bitches, and boys will be boys" resonates with me a lot. I could say a prayer wrong and be told to sit outside in Winter to do my work for the rest of the day, and a boy could chase me around the playground, pull my hair and try to punch me and it's still be my fault because boys will be boys.

The whole song just illustrates a very depressive mindset, being more angry towards yourself, and then moving on to environmental factors to try and shift blame in an attempt to stop feeling shitty. For those reasons, I don't listen to Golden Age or Carpet Bed all too much because they sucker punch me right in the chest a little bit too painfully, but HITW is still a favourite.

[jessource]

LYRIC SENTENCE STARTERS,  ETHEL CAIN.

“how funny, i never considered myself tough.”

“say what you want, but say it like you mean it.”

“god is telling you and i there is death.”

“jesus can always reject his father, but he cannot escape his mother’s blood.”

“i’ve killed before and i’ll kill again.”

“you know i raised you better than this.”

“sing it to me all day long.”

“hey, do you wanna see the west with me?”

“i am poison in the water and unhappy.”

“head full of whiskey but i always deliver.”

“trouble’s always gonna find you.”

“i followed you in.”

“i feel so alone.”

“i tried to be good. am i no good?”

“tell me a story.”

“they say heaven hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“all that's left are your walls and you'll die there.”

“i’d hold the gun if you asked me.”

“i’m tired of you still tied to me.”

“a nd if you hate me, please don’t tell me.”

“end of the line. we finally hit the edge, after all this time.”

“baby, don't run, i’ll take you anywhere.”

“you love blood too much.”

“found you just to tell you that i made it real far.”

“and know that one day, you and i could be ok.”

“it hurts to miss you. but it’s worse to know that i’m the reason.”

“he wanted to go, so maybe it was his fault.”

“even the iron still feels the rot.”

“we had nothing except each other.”

“i just wanted to be yours.”

“he’s cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed.”

“tell me, what have you done?”

“you can’t hide from me forever.”

“blessed be the daughters of cain, bound to suffering eternal through the sins of their fathers committed long before their conception.”

“there’s nothing you can do, it’s already been done.”

“i hate this story where happiness ends and dies with you.”

“don’t talk to strangers or you might fall in love.”

“then the day came and you were up and gone.”

“you know, i still wait at the edge of town.”

“just know that i love you.”

“in these motel rooms, i started to see you differently.”

“i’m doing what i want and damn, i’m doing it well.”

“i feel it there in the middle of the night.”

“i am no good nor evil, simply i am.”

“hiding from something i cannot stop.”

“i didn’t find my love but i still made it this far without it.”

“i haven’t spoken to my dad in a long, long time.”

“don’t think about it too hard or you’ll never sleep a wink at night again.”

“just give it one more day, then you’re done.”

“i’ll see you when you get here.”

“love’s never meant much to me.”

“i invited you in. twice, i did.”

suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee. promising a big fire, any fire.”

“i’ve killed before.”

“hell don’t scare me, i’ve been times before.”

“dad’s left and mama won’t come home.”

“love’s out there and I can’t leave it be.”

“i cry every day, and the bottles make it worse.”

“these dirt roads are empty.”

“trouble’s always gonna find you, (name). but so will i.”

“i’m so alone out here without you, baby.”

“i don’t need anything from anyone.”

“your mama calls me sometimes to see if i’m doing well.”

[noxtms]

dear cherry ; we are pleased to inform you that your application for THEODORE NOTT has been accepted to 𝐧𝐨𝐱 ! mason gooding is now taken. you have twenty four hours to submit your account, or else your role will be reopened !

⧼   mason gooding, cis man, he/him   /   speak now (taylor’s version) by taylor swift (i will die with the damn joke if it kills me)   +   sylvia plath breaks her own heart when she writes,  “in this light, the blood is black. tell me my own name.”  /  ethel cain sings,  “jesus can always reject his father, but he cannot escape his mother’s blood.”  what a wonderful, terrible, heartsung curse: cursed atoms are what you seek to run from, chase, madcap fool lusting for the same lighting strikes that scar scorches up and down his spine.   is that not godhood defined, thorned manifest?  poison, sugar, lick it off the spoon and revel in how it cloys, rots your teeth to nothing?   /   “i have my mother’s joy and my father’s anger in me  /  they’re always at war.”  it is an uneasy existence, to be a tangled composition of bests and worsts, with no in-between   –   your mother’s gentleness, the honey that catches in her brown eyes  ;  your father’s quiet rancor, mind games played at the forefront of that yawning chasm that never stops,  isn’t it exhausting to try and be six moves ahead every goddamned time?  you’re eleven, the first time somebody tosses a chessboard at you and says that you’re no fucking fun to play against, not when you win every time.  (  killing blow, bone bruise that you’ve carried with you ever since   …  isn’t that the point?  where’s the fun in anything other than victory, the kind carefully planned  +  carved? )   /   “i think you look just like your father.”  fist, meet mirror.  /   you are your mother’s child, boy. a softness, an indelible kindness like a silver lining  …  (  lost, of course. would she weep, to know that she cradles your bleeding heart, even in death? that the best parts of you were always tied up in hers?  )   /   “my god,”  someone breathes when you pass by  ;  note the arrogant line of your spine, the confidence that earns dimples in a charming smile like funhouse mirror,  please don’t look too close:  “that boy’s just like his father.”   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that THEODORE ALOYSIUS NOTT? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY EIGHT year old pure blood WIZARD is a SLYTHERIN alumnus who has gone on to be a BARRISTER + SOLICITOR. i’ve heard they can be quite VIGILANT & FULSOME, but i don’t know… they came off very CAVALIER & WILY in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?   [   cherry, twenty5, aest, she/they.   ]

[whitegownsandflowercrowns]

My Faves As Preacher’s Daughter

Family Tree (Intro) - Helaena Targaryen

Jesus can always reject his father/But he cannot escape his mother’s blood/He’ll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers/But he’ll never escape what he’s made up of/The fates already fucked me sideways/Swinging by my neck from the family tree

American Teenager - Luna Lovegood

Grew up under yellow light on the street/Putting too much faith in the make believe/And another high school football team/[…]/And I feel it there/In the middle of the night/When the lights go out/And I’m all alone out here/Say what you want/But say it like you mean it with your fists for once/A long Cold War with your kids at the front/Just give it one more day then you’re done, done/I do what I want/[…]/I’m doing what I want and damn I’m doing it well/For me

A House In Nebraska - Shosanna Dreyfus

You and me against the world/You were my man and I your girl/We had nothing except each other/You were my whole world/[…]/And I still call home/That house in Nebraska/[…]/And you might never come back home/And I might never sleep at night/But God I just hope that you’re out there somewhere/I just pray that you’re all right/And I feel so alone/And I feel so alone out here

Western Nights - Evelyn Evernever

I’d hold the gun/If you asked me to/But if you love me like you say you do/Would you ask me to?/[…]/Trouble’s always gonna find you baby/But so will I/[…]/I’m never gonna leave you baby/Even if you lose what’s left of your mind/Cause you know I’ll be right there beside you/Riding through all these Western nights

Family Tree - Peter Gordon

These crosses all over my body/Remind me of who I used to be/Give myself up to him in offering/[…]/I’m just a child but I’m not above violence/My mama raised me better than that/[…]/So take me down to the river/And bathe me clean/[…]/I’ve killed before, and I’ll kill again/Take the noose off, wrap it tight around my hand/[…]/And Christ, forgive these bones I’ve been hiding/Oh, and the bones I’m about to leave

Hard Times - Laura Palmer

Tell me a story about how it ends/Where you’re still the good guy, I’ll make pretend/Cause I hate this story/Where happiness ends and dies with you/I thought good guys get to be happy/I’m not happy/I am poison in the water and unhappy/Little girl who needs her daddy real bad

Thoroughfare - Mantis

I met you there in Texas somewhere on the thoroughfare/On the side of the road in some torn up clothes with a pistol in my pocket/I didn’t trust no one, but you said “baby don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere”/So I hopped right in, outta luck to spend, and at least your truck beats walking/And you said “hey, do you wanna see the west with me?”/[…]/But in these motel rooms I started to see you differently/Cause for the first time since I was a child/I could see a man who wasn’t angry

Gibson Girl - Georgina Sparks

He’s cold blooded so it takes more time to bleed/Obsession with the money, addicted to the drugs/[…]/“Baby if it feels good/Then it can’t be bad”/And if you want it good/Downright iconic

Ptolemaea - Max Mayfield

I followed you in and I was with you there/I invited you in twice, I did/[…]/Suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee/Promising a big fire, any fire/Saying I’m the one, he’s gonna take me/I’m on fire, I’m on fire, I’m on fire/Suffering is nigh, drawing to me/Calling me the one, I’m the white light/Beautiful, finite/Even the iron still fear the rot/Hiding from something I cannot stop/Walking on shadows I can’t lead him back/Buckled on the floor when night comes along/Daddy’s left and Momma won’t come home/You poor thing/Sweet mouring lamb/There’s nothing you can do/It’s already been done/What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me/Please don’t look at me/[…]/Stop, stop, stop, make it stop/[…]/Blessed be the children/Each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence

August Underground - India Stoker

Televangelism - Beth March

Sun Bleached Flies - Laura Lee

What I wouldn’t give to be in church this Sunday/Listening to the choir so heartfelt all singing/“God loves you, but not enough to save you”/So baby girl good luck taking care of yourself/[…]/And I just prayed/And I keep praying, and praying and praying/If it’s meant to be, then it will be

Strangers - Cassie Ainsworth

Thinking back to what I was always told/“Don’t talk to strangers or you might fall in love”/[…]/I tried to be good/Am I no good? Am I no good? Am I no good?/With my memory restricted to a Polaroid in evidence/I just wanted to be yours/Can I be yours? Can I be yours? Just tell me I’m yours/[…]/Don’t think about it too hard or you’ll never sleep a wink at night again/Don’t worry bout me and these green eyes

[cowboylikeekatie]

here are some quotes and song lyrics ( i can’t remember who said some of them) but they remind me of eddie kaspbrak on a deep level!

“suffering did not make me brave”

“jesus can always reject his father, but he cannot escape his mothers blood. he’ll scream and try to wash it off his fingers, but he’ll never escape what he’s made of”

“our mothers are our first homes, and that’s why we’re always trying to return to them” - Michele Filgate (What My Mother and I Don’t Talk About)

“Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me” - taylor swift

“my mothers love is choking me”

“when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off knives” - lauren eden

(more of a losers club in general quote) “growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. i’m glad for that” - ally condie

(more reddie coded) “the love was there. it didn’t change anything. it didn’t save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there”

[alexcabotgf]

insp. / feel free to vote regardless of whether or not you've listened to the album

[entropiasgift]

"If we had a daughter I'd watch and could not save her The emotional torture From the head of your high table She'd do what you taught her She'd meet the same cruel fate So now I've gotta run So I can undo this mistake At least I've gotta try" — Labour, Paris Paloma. "Jesus can always reject his father But he cannot escape his mother's blood He'll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers But he'll never escape what he's made up of The fate's already fucked me sideways Swinging by my neck from the family tree He'll laugh and say: You know I raised you bеtter than this Then leavе me hanging so they all can laugh at me" — Family Tree (Intro), Ethel Cain. "Get some Pull up the ladder when the flood comes Throw enough rope until the legs have swung Seven new ways that you can eat your young Come and get some Skinning the children for a war drum Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young"

— Eat Your Young, Hozier.