#one piece feels like it was a result of souls being sold to the devil with how its managed to thrive for decades

[worldblight]

do you like one piece

No, I've only rewatched every single episode including the filler twice over, which is 2200+ episodes and 860+ hours of my life dedicated to watching an animated rubber boy destroy everything we ever knew about sustainable passionate longform comic and cartoon production

[dazed--xx]

Sold Your Soul

Request: Ooh could I request Yandere!Sugar Daddy! Seokjin¿

Member: HARD Yandere!sadist Jin x Reader

Genre: angst, yandere, (implied smut)

Word Count: 1,590

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Abuse, manipulation, pressured sex, handcuffed to a bed, hair pulling, name calling, whatever else I forgot to put sorry guys  

A/N:  MY FIRST JIN FIC thank you to the beautifully dark and non-descriptive soul for sending in this request, I hope you enjoy it and this finds you, I DO NOT CONSENT TO THIS BEHAVIOR IF YOU ARE BEING ABUSED GET HELP, PLEASE. And with that being said send in more requests  

Summary: Kim Seokjin, V.P. of Kim industries, powerful, wealthy, and charming. The sweetest heir to the Kim enterprise according to the public. You believed it, his overwhelming charm and confidence the mask for the demon within. Jīn has gotten whatever he wanted, and he wants you. With your contract only days from ending, Jin declares you’ve violated the contract and now you belong to him. Permanently.  

(not my gif)

Month 5 day 22 10:42 pm

If anyone was to ask you how the past 5 months 22 days have been you’d say a secret nightmare, your provider was a ruthless and spoiled man. The onlookers would say you were lucky, the heir to Kim Enterprises was spoiling you with riches, paying your tuition, etc... The soft glow on his skin, his plump lips, his soft fragile image of the perfect son in the perfect family had shattered within 2 months. The abuse of his power and wealth over you, use of your safe word during sexual punishment would result in financial punishment. If you would have read the fine print in your contract with him you wouldn’t be handcuffed to his headboard as he released his anger, at his words “your betrayal”. Only hours ago, he was losing himself inside you, holding you in his arms fingers lightly tracing circles on your arms. How did you end up here?

*flashback*

Your hands curled around the bottom seam of your skirt griping it tightly. Your entire body shaking as the driver pulled to a stop in front of the large office building. Your mouth completely dries itself up. “Miss y/l/n Mr. Kim has requested you inform his assistant you have arrived from the front desk give them your name, then proceed to the 16th floor Mr. Kim's assistant will meet you right off the elevator she will give you further instructions. Have a nice day” his driver speaks soft and swiftly.  

You shakily eye the building. Taking a soft nervous step your breath hitches in your throat. As you step into the building you look around everything seems to happen in the blink of an eye and soon you were rushed into his office. You turned to close the door behind you and you stared at the closed door in front of you and your hand stayed frozen on the handle.  

“You can leave if you'd like but from what I know so far Miss Y/l/n you need me more than I need you” His velvety voice rang through your ears. “Come. Sit.” he said with a more commanding tone. As your eyes trailed over the luxurious office, I do not belong here you thought. Your legs acting on your own as you find your way in the chair placed in front of his desk eyes never once leaving the floor. “you're nervous” he states softly. You nod softly, a blush creeping on your face.  

You hear him lift himself off his chair and soon you can feel his hand on your shoulder, he lowers his body kneeling in front of you. “Do I make you uncomfortable y/n” his hand lifting my head to face him I shake my head “n-no sir” my meek voice barely over a whisper. “Have you read over the contract miss y/l/n?” you nod taking in his handsome features. The curve of his lips, the playful innocence in his voice. “All of it?” you nod lying to him, you dozed off reading the contract around the termination clauses. “And you're............experienced?”  

“yes, sir I'm here to please” you reached into your bag and handed him the contract. “Well miss y/l/n consider your student loans and your sisters medical expenses paid for, now that business is taken care of on your knees beautiful let's see how eager you are to please” He stated standing straight up unzipping his pants. You stared at him in shock, how did he know about your sister.

*present* -Month 5 day 22 10:23 pm

You weren't sure what you had said to set Jin off but he was livid. Your terrified state only encouraged his anger. He got off on your misery, he was enamored by the beauty of your face as tears streamed down it. The way you would shake like a chihuahua if he so much as looked at you a certain way. You had fallen into your submissive role the second you handed him the contract. He knew he loved you the moment he saw you that day walking home from work. A man in Jins position had wealth and anyone at his disposal to keep an eye on you and report back. He knew everything about you before he even presented you with the 6-month contract. Even though he had paid off all your expenses before you even knew he existed.  

He praised you when you did well, punished you when you acted out. He loved you and you loved him well he thought you loved him. As the days got closer to the 6-month mark Jin heard you making arraignments to leave his side and find another place to live. He thought it was just cold feet you were scared of your love and maybe he just needed to remind you who you belonged to and everything would be alright. Until you came to him with an apartment you had put a down payment on, wishing you could begin slowly moving your things in to adjust from the past 6 months as you put it.  

His anger only grew as you continued about the life you wished to lead after you leave him. He could only see red as his hand strikes you. He continuously shoves you back until your pressed against the wall. His hand finding its way to your throat, “who the fuck told you that you could use my own money to pay for some silly thing like an apartment, you aren't leaving y/n” he growled forcing his lips on yours “who put that stupid idea in your weak mind? Your sister? Your mother? Or are you a fucking whore y/n?” you wince as he adds pressure to your throat “that's it isn't it! Who is he? Ill fucking kill him” you look at him terrified words fighting their way out  

“NO-ONE! P-please get off me, I-I s-swear there's been no one b-but yo---’LYING BITCH WHY ELSE WOULD YOU BE SO DESPARATE TO GET AWAY FROM ME Y/N I LOVE YOU; YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT YOURE NOT LEAVING ME Y/N” He yanked your arm roughly, dragging you to your room. He grabs the handcuffs he keeps in the night stand beside the bed. Wrapping one of the cold cuffs around your wrist, he yanks it pulling you across the room. “N-no Jin please! I can be good I-I can b-be go-od p-please!” you scream as you grab onto the door.  

The pain in your wrist growing stronger. Jins face is now red “what did you call me” his voice is low the burning sensation in your wrist turning to throbbing as Jin stares at you. Your eyes widen as you force the door open, as your small figure makes it past the frame you can feel his hand in your hair, the burning sensation scratching its way through your head.  

The tears burning your eyes as you scream in pain “PLEASE HELP ME SOMEONE PLEASE!”

You fight back but its utterly useless and he handcuffs you to your headboard “I fucking help you, you piece of trash. I give you everything! Everything I have y/n, you want me you have that you want my money I’ll transfer it all to you every last cent. I've bought you clothes food trips for you and your waste of space sister, I've given you freedom and respect and all I get in return for my love and kindness is disrespect, infidelity, and used. You want to know why your other Doms got rid of you y/n?” your eyes travel from the ceiling to his face.

 The hurt evident, “it's because you’re a gold-digging whore y/n you want money and that’s it you don’t care about how people feel you don’t care about love or anything you fuck anyone that will give you a bigger pay check and leave a trail of broken hearts. But I'm not one of those men y/n I'd rather kill you than live without you” he states standing frozen in the middle of the room his hand pulling a gun out from behind his back, pointing it right at you. “so, y/n do you want to die?”  

Your heart raced as you shook your head rapidly the tears rapidly flowing down your cheeks. “N-no p-please s-sir, I-ill d-do anything” his small huffs turning into a hearty laugh as he points the gun to his head, slowly rubbing it against his temple  

“It doesn’t matter if you want to leave it doesn’t matter if you want your own apartment. You violated your part of the NDA, Y/n by exposing our relationship and arrangement to your pathetic little sister you CAN’T leave, I mean I could sue you but I already know you don’t have that kind of money. Didn’t know when to bring it up but I felt now was a good a time as any. So, you see Babygirl you belong to me and the only way you're leaving me is death either by my hand or your own” he places his body on top of yours “and I hope for your sake its by your own, you know how I like to see you cry and bleed baby” his lips capture yours as your tears mix with the taste of his tongue.  

You closed your eyes as his hard long member enters your core, erasing the misery from your mind as you breathlessly moan “sir”  

you’ve sold your soul to the devil and He’s here to collect.  

[ugh-againwiththenames]

A Musical Social Experiment...Destiel.

Alright, so I thought to myself, while playing along with @thenightwemetnatural​‘s Destiel song picks, that despite my musical tastes, and them tending typically (although not exclusively) towards the Metal genres, that EVERY song can in some way, be paralleled to Destiel. This is such a ridiculous experiment, and I apologize, but I’m at the cottage, and it’s fucking pouring with rain, so let’s play…

Here are the rules: take your Music library and throw it on Shuffle – every song that comes on for an hour(ish), connect it to Destiel...(below the cut for my results).

You can access the playlist here (if you have any interest in listening along!). I am not going to necessarily describe every possible connection - I think that a lot of them are SUPER obvious...like *eyes rolling out of my head* obvious...

In the End – Black Veil Brides – Well we’re off to a hell of a start, as this song from start to finish screams Destiel and sacrifice. In the end As my soul's laid to rest What is left of my body Or am I just a shell? And I have fought And with flesh and blood I commanded an army Through it all I have given my heart for a moment of glory Who will remember this last goodbye 'Cause it's the end and I'm not afraid I'm not afraid to die A Modern Way - The Exies – only on song 2, and it’s once again, really hard to cut out any of this song, as the repeating “I’m bound by my insecurities” SCREAMS Dean at me.

I’m Bound by my insecurities

Open your eyes and Throw your arms around me I need the right not to fight To breathe

Swallow the lies I'm the one to blame Having no voice left to choose Am i so blind, feeling justified When i'm alone and confused

Brother – NEEDTOBREATHE – I have to laugh…as I added this after watching Jensen sing this at a Con (for J*red), and no lie, I’m in LOVE with it, but it’s somehow now determinably connected to the brothers for me but I can/WILL draw the lines here…EASY.

Everybody needs someone beside em’ shining like a lighthouse from the sea Face down in the desert now there’s a cage locked around my heart I found a way to drop the keys where my failures were Now my hands can’t reach that far I ain’t made for a rivalry I could never take the world alone I know that in my weakness I am strong, but It’s your love that brings me home Summoners Rift – Dangerkids – Um. Well. The first line of this song just made me laugh out loud.

There's no room for martyrs in a dying scene Well I'm not quite dead I'm something in between

And if I had another chance I would tell you

I guess I'm not afraid of what comes after We are the only ones We stand alone in the dark

Question everything you blindly follow Truth's a bitter pill, it's hard to swallow You think you're winning but your time is borrowed We are the only ones We stand alone in the dark

Royal Beggars - Architects - I mean…the repetition of my sentiments is going to get a bit silly…so i will not. read on...

All hope is dead, but we're coping

Somebody save our souls

Like a bird in a cage, trying to fly away Is this the price that we have to pay? Overflowing with rage, yet we still obey 'Cause we're asleep in a hurricane

We sit on a throne, waiting for God to bend the knee But we're nothing more than royal beggars

Edge of your Bed - Thousand Below - “why’d you have to go and keep calling out my name” Calling out my name” pure purgatory “where’s the ANGEL” “I prayed to you Cas, Every night” The rest of the next verse is also poignant, very Dean again “where I can only feel peace when the wave hits”, “and I’ve become what I thought was wrong, I love the feeling when it feels too strong”.  

Why'd you have to go and keep calling out my name? Calling out my name

I found sorrow at the edge of your bed

Is it now a bad habit? Where I can only feel peace when the wave hits And I've become what I thought was wrong I love the feeling when it feels too strong

Animals – Siamese - “It takes a killer that thinks he’s a saint, it takes believing to be this insane” – well. yes. ok. 

Shattered not broken We stand our feet Houses rebuild on These bloody streets I fill my lungs into this beat With closed eyes we're hoping for remedy

It takes a killer That thinks he's a saint It takes believing To be this insane

Spineless Crow - Hands Like Houses

We were young together but I've grown ancient Cracked and weathered and filled with regret Waiting to sink, rushing to sink in my sleep

The realization sinks in through the skin Like a disease, a blight inside of me Missing your touch, your weight on my fingers

My Underworld - Tonight Alive

Now we sail into deep blue storm clouds Overhead now, strangely I feel at peace as I dive into My underworld, world I dive into my underworld, world Down in these depths I'm adding up the numbers Of all I've suffered in past lives, tied down in the darkness Finally I begin to learn what I've returned tonight Time has come to begin again, leave something else behind

Ever After - Marianas Trench - All this talk of being someone’s disaster – Welp! Hello!

Don't you move Can't you stay where you are, just for now I could be your perfect disaster You could be my ever after

Apologies, I'm not myself but I can guarantee That when I get back, you won't believe That you knew me well Don't want to think about it

I'm fuckin' tired of getting sick about it Now stand back up and be a man about it And fight for something, fight for something, fight for something Nobody told ya this is gonna fold ya We go marching in like toy soldiers To have and hold ya over sold ya They’re marching like toy soldiers I'll be your disaster, ever after So fire away Goodbye

Room 138 - Asking Alexandria - While this song is clearly actually about an overdose of some kind, it’s parallels shockingly well to the post confession scene.   So these are the walls that have to hold this moment Somebody hear me, someone open up the door Get me up off of this floor and stop the shaking, the shaking Through the haze I saw a face A second chance, another life to live How did you forgive me? Held my head against your chest Told me everything's alright, don't be afraid Close your eyes and rest

Witness – Daughtry

Does it feel like you're just wasting time Here without a reason or a rhyme The answer you've been looking for Is standing right before your weary eyes And if the weight of the world is on you now But you know you can turn it all around again How Many Walls - Rise Against  - Guys, seriously, I’m not even going there...How many years have we wasted….how many walls can you put up? How many guns til you feel safe? This is a song about war – this is Rise Against, this is purely political and somehow can STILL be pulled together with Destiel.

 How many walls can you put up?

How many guns 'til you feel safe? How many times can we watch this story Over and over and over again? And how many years have we wasted Counting the lies that we've been fed? For something to change we have waited Over and over and over again Pray – Picturesque - Nope. Don’t even need a description here. Once again this is FAR TOO OBVIOUS!

I should pray a little more and think a little less The devils in my head and he won't let me rest Everyday just like the last since you up and left I should pray a little more, I shouldn't pray for death I Knew You Were Trouble – We Came as Romans (Swift Cover) - SwiftNatural is a thing for a reason… 

It's like a kaleidoscope of memories. It just all comes back. But he never does. I knew his world moved too fast and burned too bright. But I just thought, how can the devil be pulling you toward someone who looks so much like an angel

I think that the worst part of it all wasn't losing him. It was losing me. Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago I was in your sights, you got me alone You found me

I knew you were trouble when you walked in (you were right there, you were right there) So shame on me now Flew me to places I'd never been Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground Texas Is Forever - Pierce the Veil – lack of communication anyone? I don’t know, do we know anyone like that? If anything should happen to me I want you to know, I’ve loved you since ever…

Here we are If anything should happen to me I want you to know I've loved you since ever since then Don't dance around me I know what it means No communication, cannot be received But I'm such a sucker for the rain, yeah Oh, here we are Butterfly - Wearing Scars – the Butterfly/Angel parallel alone…go with it.

Seems we're alone We're fixated Just waiting for something As time goes by And when we're way up high We'll look back down with different eyes Let's take our time Awake this life So spread your wings And take my hand Tonight will be the end

With Grace - The Weight of Atlas

This place looks like hell to me I cast myself into the sea Picked up my conscience and left my disease I don't know, I don't know if I can make it through this storm Keep your eyes shut it will be okay. Will we make it out alive? Will we make it out alive. When all you have is hope I will be your anchor I know that I can let you down But I swear I'll pick up the pieces. And be reborn again I Always Wanted to Leave - The Plot In You

I guess it's a shame I'm so damn destructive And you're so reluctant to mean what you say The way you act so abused The things you confuse You know I always wanted to leave "Hello... You can sing, I'm here And I love you more than anyone or anything With all my heart."

Unsteady - X Ambassadors – just a stay parallel. Don’t leave, don’t let go. If you love me. Don’t let go. #I haz the sads.

Hold on to me 'Cause I'm a little unsteady If you love me Don't let go Bury Me Alive - Normandie – pick a line – ANY LINE!!! 

I guess I'm not going to heaven now I got caught in the chase Now I'm falling from grace But I never stood a chance Could've given me a sign I'd be giving you blind obedience Mantra – Bring Me The Horizon Before the truth will set you free, it will piss you off Before you find a place to be, you're gonna lose the plot Too late to tell you now, one ear and right out the other one 'Cause all you ever do is chant the same old mantra Could I have your attention, please? It's time to tap into your tragedy Think you could use a new abuser Close your eyes and listen carefully Imagine you're stood on a beach Water gently lapping at your feet And now you're sinking, what were you thinking? That's all the time we have this week

Oh Lord - In This Moment – cutting any of this out was actually hard. Cas, my love, are you there?

Oh Lord won't you save me Save me from my soul Oh Lord won't you forgive me For I have lost control Oh Lord won't you tell me Am I the righteous or the damned? Oh Lord won't you please hear me Do I obey or do I command? Oh Lord please forgive me For what I'm about to do Oh Lord won't you believe me I'll burn in hell for you Oh Lord won't you teach me Teach me how to see Oh Lord tell me you love me Am I Lillith or am I Eve?

Bleeding is a Luxury - Atreyu

I’ve talked the talk, I've walked the walk, It's taken ten fucking years, For them to see I don't need their approval. I've paid the piper, I've stayed my course, Lived chomping at the bit. With only blood, sweat, and tears to adhere to- Take it for granted, Forsake the costs, Wear a big, shit-eating grin (with only blood, sweat, and tears to adhere to) Now bear the burden to chase your fate Grind your teeth 'til it fucking hurts So they can see I don't need their approval. Seize the day, Take your beatings, Lead the way, Or decay as you fall down... You fall down.

Would you Still be There - Of Mice & Men – wow, this song in full. All of it. I can’t.

If I could find the words, if I could shake the world, If I could turn back time would you still be there? I can't stop thinking about the way I left you sinking with no escape. Now there's no lifeline, no way to save. But maybe next time I won't throw it all away. Dislocated, I lie awake Suffocating in my mistakes. I lost my halo when I fell from grace, But maybe next time I won't throw it all away. I ask myself everyday... If I could find the words, if I could shake the world, If I could turn back time would you still be there? If I could find the words to say, If I could shake the world to break you down, Then would you still be there?

The Broken - 3 Doors Down 

This is the call to the broken, the broken Take it from me. They don't care if you're lonely. As you can see, They don't care if you're scared. Your heart Is the only friend you have in this whole world. Don't start, Think you can do this yourself. I know what you're thinking. You say you're tired of keeping score, keeping score. Trust me, You're not the only one going through this. You see, I've been through this before, this before.

Wow, I Hate This Song - The Used – this one took a little imagination – hardest one so far – because it really is just about hating a song! So we’re HC’ing the Zepp track that reminds Dean most of Cas, post Empty.

Every time I hear the key I see you in the melody It never was a part of me Heart feels like it's being stabbed Kills me emotionally Dirty Little Secret - Bullet For My Valentine – let’s take this back to – take your pick…Leviathan!Cas, Godstiel, Casifer, any of the times that Cas did the wrong thing for the right reasons…and did not tell his boy. 

There once was a time Where everything was just so perfect Now everything has changed And you've become a total stranger I've seen another side to you I never even knew existed Dirty little secrets, dirty little secrets Giving in to your primal instincts There once was a time When anything I do is for you But everything has changed And I've become a lonely prisoner I'd kill, even die for you You never even tried resisting

Kill Plan - Parabelle

I'm sitting stunned just like a lesson I never learned Made of emotions and mistakes And what you say Leaves me lost and in the way And that's the place you stay Remember silence Now we're painted into corners So we can watch the world get sold out Hold me closer don't let the sun in Hold me closer don't let the sun in Cuz the setting sun feels like a cage Don't let me defend the kill plan

Roman Sky – Avenged Sevenfold – This song only has a few lyrics, but we can definitely make them work.

As the embers rose through the Roman Sky Tell me, were you calm when they took your life? Just before you go, tell us how the heavens flow Weightless evermore, as you walk beyond that door Shine forever true To Those Left Behind – blessthefall – these boys might be my favourite band ever, but these are ANGRY lyrics – these are about betrayal.  This is a relationship gone wrong. I feel these best work with the divorce arc, the Angry Dean that we see, or Dean’s mood after any of the “Cas fucked up again” moments. You found me at my worst When I was far too weak to grow In spite of all my fears And how I may have lost my way Only now I know the truth

Awake and coming clean

If you can't sleep It's your conscience That's eating away At the mess you made So let's end this Sew this last stitch Lift this weight off my chest I'll put you to rest The past should stay dead

How did we find ourselves here? Haunted by our own design With everything that's come to pass Makes it harder to confine

[river--glass]

Reylo Fic Recs Long Ass Fics pt 2: Alternate Universe

Someone asked for fic recs 100K or over, so here they are. See Pt. 1 for Canon Verse or Alternate Canon Verse fics. (I haven’t read all of these- my personal comments are in bold)

Equilibrium by AttackoftheDarkCurses & thebuildingsnotonfire. (modern, E, 479K)

When Rey works up the nerve to ask Grand Master Luke Skywalker to train her, she makes friends and finds something deep and wonderful in the martial art known as Taekwondo.

She never thought the choice would change her life.

Alternatively, a (long) story of love, family, and Martial Arts.

The Heartbreak Prince by diasterisms. (Harry Potter, E, WIP) 

I swore I would never read Harry Potter AU’s or Works In Progress, but for this fic I broke both rules. This is, pun not intended, so magical in every way. It has me SHOOK and if somehow you haven’t heard of it yet, do yourself a favor and check it out!

In Living Memory by SpaceWaffleHouseTM. (multiple times, E, 221K)

Ben and Rey are rendered immortal after being struck by lightning at the precise same moment, and keep running into one another as the centuries drag on. Waffle’s stories are all amaaaaazing and you need to read ALL of them.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot by SageMcMae. (modern, E, 214k)

MMA fighter, Kylo Ren is suspended from the league and sentenced to community service at his uncle’s martial arts academy. There he meets Rey Niima, a recent graduate with a natural ability and incredible potential.

Soul Searching by OptimisticBeth. (AU, Modern, E, 205K)

A Soulmates AU in which Ben is horrified to find out he’s soulmates with his 16 year old student, ten years his junior. (no underage shenanigans) This fic fucked me up. The world building is so stunning. The story is rich with love and fluff, but oh the angst. Soooo much angst and emotional anguish and two people who are trying their best but just can't communicate for shit. The overall story is so beautiful and worth every heartbreaking moment. A happy ending WILL come!

Satan Wears a Rolex by AquaWolfGirl. (Modern, E, 205K)A Devil Wears Prada AU. Unfinished, but it’s fascinating and it ends well where it is.

Hiraeth by Ferasha. (1990′s, E, 204K)

An absolute angst and pain train of a historical war fic. This is not a comfort fic. It will fuck you up. But if you’re into that, the way they’ve woven canon plot in with the Yugoslav Wars is a masterpiece. It’s dark and gritty and will make you feel things.

Le Fin Du Fin by QueenOfCarrotFlowers @leofgyth. (Victorian, E, 196K) A Crimson Peak AU!!! This writer has never let me down.

A Proposal by Any Other Name by Lucidlucy. (Modern, E, 188) A Leap Year AU.

Salt in the Blood by Hagen. (9th century, E, 169K) Featuring pre-Norman invasion Ireland, selkies, love of the sea, and mythical creatures.

The Great Big No by dietplainlite. (1990′s, E, 165K)

Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide?

The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash. (AU, Wild West, E, 160K)

Rey Niima finds herself in a perilous situation when her husband dies at the start of their journey West. From the few bachelors on the trail in her party; she attaches herself to the best of her options- mysterious Banker Ben Solo. A really interesting, amazing piece. Lots of introspection, and a heart wrenchingly real look into abuse and recovery. I emotionally digested for days.

The Sacred Texts by Eskayrobot & Poaxath. (Modern, E, 159K)

Doing the Unstuck by slipgoingunder. (Modern, E, 158K) A When Harry Met Sally AU.

The Mating Service by AlbaStarGazer. (Modern A/B/O, E, 146K)

If Rey had known how quickly she would find her biological mate and alpha through the world wide mating service, 'Match,' she might have considered signing up years ago.

Unravel Me by UnderTheCancerMoon. (Modern, E, 145K)

Rey and Ben push and pull their way through their 20's, experiencing the love, success, loss, and challenges that make life rich.

Fire Away by Daisyflo. (Modern, E, 141K)

The Witch in the Wood by HarpiaHarpyja @thisgarbagepicker & Inmyownidiom. (Fantasy, E, 138K)

I cannot say enough good things about this fic. It’s serving you knight Kylo and witch Rey and so so many good feelings. Sure there’s some angst and dark magic and some struggles but mostly this is a lovely Ghibli-esque story about two people living in a treehouse and talking to animals and having a really good life! Everything HarpiaHarpyja writes is magic.

Snow Without Winter by neonheartbeat. (Renaissance, E, 138K) 

If you’re into serious historical fics (this once features catholicism and Rome in 1492) this is for you.

Lemon-hot Summer by IshaRen & pr3tty_g1rl5. (Modern, E, 130K).

In which Ben is the horniest virgin alive and Rey is bored and looking for something (or someone) to do.

Stranger Than Fiction by daxcat79. (Modern, E, 127K). Grumpy writer Ben and sunshine muse Rey.

Like Red But Not Quite by @kylotrashforever. (Modern, E, 126K) KTF is a god-tier reylo writer and you need to do yourself a favor and go read everything they have ever written.

Dark Water by LinearA. (1950′s, E, 125K)

The North Shore by @strawberrycupcakehuckleberrypie. (Modern, E, 125K)

Notting Hill vibes. Actor Ben meets shop owner Rey, and both their lives are changed instantly. It’s mostly about them both being smitten and starting a really good life together!! Lovely!

Stars In My Pockets (Wear Daisies In My Hair) by LostInQueue. (Modern, E, 125K). A Reylogan fic.

we could plant a house, we could build a tree by like_a_dove. (Modern, E, 124K).

An absolute classic. It’s about growing pains and growing feelings - the transition from childhood into adulthood and all the messy bits in between. God, it will hurt you. Badly. But it’ll be so, so worth it.

go i know not whither and fetch i know not what by voicedimplosives. (1990′s, E, 118K)

Russian Mafia AU!! A truly beautiful piece of work. Great plot,great smut, great Bendemption arc. It’s an emotional rollercoaster that’s fully worth the ride.

Souviens-toi de moi by Maniable. (Modern/historical, E, 117K)

Disconnect by Weatherbug02. (Modern, E, 115K) 

Candyleg by 5cents. (1950′s, E, 115K)

The girl was too young, but old enough to have a hustler’s-eye view of her own bleak future. The boys were paying her to do a snow job on a candyleg, but she was beginning to love her work and love Solo, and she decided to stick with him till death did them part...

Baby, It’s Just Biology by polkadotdotdot. (Modern A/B/O, E, 112K)

Only If You Want To by Violetwilson. (Modern, M, 111K)

Personal security expert (and occasional under-the-table hitman) Kylo Ren has a strong feeling about the cute dive bar waitress with the strange bruises and the vicious wit. She's either a victim or the weirdest criminal he's ever met. Possibly both.

Ileenium Manor by WaterlilyRose. (AU, victorian, E, 109K)

Leia’s maid Rey instantly hates Lord Ben when he comes to take over the household. She can’t hate him for too long as he starts to pursue her. If you’re in the mood for a sweet but angsty Lord/Maid fic, this is for you.

Kohelet 3:16 (Call Me A Cab) by LinearA. (Modern, E, 108K)

Ruby Woo Red by HeartSabers. (Modern, E, 107K) Featuring makeup artist Rey and TV star Kylo.

Sixth Year by witheyesclosed. (Harry Potter, M, 107K)

The one where Ravenclaw Rey gets paired with Slytherin Ben in Potions and ohmygod he’s hot now

Lockjaw by bitterbones. (zombie apocalypse, M, 106K)

A Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno by HarpiaHarpyja & sunshineflying. (Modern, E, 106K) 

With the help of rich Unca Wanwo, flagrant misuse of Ben's creative writing degree, and copious amounts of coffee, Ben and Rey put together the porno of the century, starring themselves and their friends . . . with interesting results.

The Hypnotist by Pandora_Spocks. (Modern, E, 104K)

From a galaxy far, far away, soulmates Ben and Rey have been reincarnated on Earth to resolve their karma. Dr. Ben Solo is a charismatic hypnotist to whom present day Reychelle Lumen has been referred to for help with her nightmares.

Score by SpaceWaffleHouseTM. (Modern, E, 104K)

Ben's friends convince him to take the Rice Purity Test, but when he and Rey are revealed to have the highest scores of their friends, they quickly form a pact to beat Poe's out by the end of the semester. I loved this! Its so so sweet and funny and all from Ben’s POV. Sweet, sweet pining Ben.

The World Shifts (And I Am Better Here) by lachesisgrimm. (Fantasy, E, 102K)

Once upon a time there was a beggar girl whose parents sold her to a thief, and she was very unhappy.--In which prophecy is used with malicious intent, and the universe exerts itself to correct the problem.

for @scarletvizhlovers

[missesdavinci]

This is the second part of “The Madness Inside Me” and all that I had written beforehand. From here on it’s only bits and pieces I have written down. Let’s see where the journey takes us! Enjoy 🖤

[Vlad Tepes x Reader] [word count: 808]

The Madness Inside Me

________________________

My new present

White cotton clouds strolled lazily across the sky, stretching endlessly into the horizon. A warm spring breeze tickled my nose. I sat on the watchtower's railing enjoying the view. Well, I tried to.

“What are you looking at, my rose?”

There was no need to turn around for that his disgusting presence was embedded so deeply into my body I could probably sense him from across the continent.

“Didn’t I tell you not to disturb me?” I remarked coldly.

“Hmm… if I remember correctly it was something amongst the lines of ‘I don’t want to see your face anymore, not in this century or any other’”

The stone balusters made a scratching sound as he sat down beside me.

“If your memory still works, why don’t you stick to my words and go to hell then?”

Vlad only chuckled, the cute sound of a child who had lived for too long.

“Well, instead of sending me away, why don’t you try to enjoy and admire what I have given to you?”

Frustration coiled inside me, somehow even when we had a conversation we were always talking past each other and I was half sure he did it on purpose.

My gaze swept down, brushing past old castle walls and a beautifully decorated rose garden in the in the center. Faust had just entered, discussing something with Charles.

“What you have given me?” My voice was mocking “You mean a crumbling castle in the middle of nowhere and all this weed? Oh, and of course the lovely companionship of the man who sold his soul to the devil and such a lively executioner. I feel like a real princess, thank you.”

“If being a princess is what you desire…”

“Another word of your useless chatter and I promise I’ll get rid of this sickening tongue of yours!”

“My, my why being so bitter. We had such a good start.”

“I’ve always been a bitter person… and yes, we had a good start, when I didn’t know you’d turn me into your hostage for life. You’re just curious about me because your deceptive manipulation doesn’t work on me and because I’m an oddity even by your standards.”

“Can’t say that you didn’t fancy the way I don’t turn into a complete maniac when you’re by my side. Of course I can fathom you would prefer your Italian lover boy in my place.”

The last comment was an intentional blade cutting through me making me slowly lose my temper. Balancing onto the thin crest, I hopped down to the roof. At the very least I could face Vlad. He should see what emotions he evoked inside me.

“That doesn’t mean you could turn me into a vampire! I’m your livestock, your breeding machine for the rest of who knows how long. This is a curse! You didn’t give me anything, you took everything I had, trapping me inside a world I don’t belong to bound to be a slave of your blood. Without you I will turn into a lunatic driven by unquenchable thirst. This is nothing I ever wanted!”

Contrary to my emotional outburst Vlad’s eyes seemed calm. Two perfect pools of ruby. I hated it. The only thing brisking up was the unruly wind around us fueled by the mountainside, something I hadn’t calculated when carelessly jumping onto the rooftop and so with a gust I lost my balance.

Naturally, I wouldn’t die but it would hurt for sure.

Just how much did this game hate me?

Something rambled, I fell but not as deep as I had anticipated and when I opened my eyes I was inside the watchtower straddling Vlad.

“You could’ve just let me fall.” I tried to get up but he held me tightly.

“I could have but as I stated before hurting you will only result in hurting me. Is that desirable? I also think we weren’t finished.”

“What else is there to say?”

“Isn’t it quite romantic to live only for a single individual?”

“Pah! You hear yourself, right Vlad? If your idea of ideal romance is being a frantic stalker, you’re crazier than I thought.”

“This curse is not a one way track, my rose. It only works if both parties share the same deep passion for each other.”

“Then this curse must be broken!”

While those words left my lips, I unconsciously lowered my head cradling it into the nape of his neck as it had happened so often since he had transformed me.

I felt sad and confused about losing control over my own emotions.

“Sometimes I don’t know who is more of a psycho. You or me.”

���Who do you wish for?”

“I wish for neither of us to be one.”

And that was the truest my tongue had spoken in the past months.

[animefinatic]

Fire Force: 1st thoughts/impression

Okay so I’ve been hearing some murmurs about this anime for a while but because I weird I move slow when it comes to new anime for some reason, mainly because I want something to binge. But since getting Hulu recently I’ve been watching a lot of nostalgic shows (Digimon s1-3 and Yuyu Hakusho along with some old school nickelodeon and cartooonnetwork shows) but I’ve decided to finally get around to watching something new for a change. I’m not done with season 1 (episode 12)yet so I’m just going to give some 1st impressions on a few characters. Just some general thoughts, I’m sure overall feelings will change as i finish what’s currently out so don’t get bent outta shape if I don’t like someone or mention someone. Also be respectful if you’re a manga reader.

World building: The whole people turning into infernals at the drop of a dime and killing other people and the rest of humanity seems to have all been clustered in some small ass piece of japan lowkey put me in the mind of AOT (humanity being behind walls, the monster being humans all along type shit) I went into this thinking the protagonist is some sort of form of internal with that logic.

Shinra: Sharp teeth. I’m not into the whole teeth thing (Rin from Free, Soul from Soul Eater, Kirishima are swell in their own way but i was never a fan of their teeth) I like his little ‘smile in tense situation quirk because bless his heart i know when he’s nervous or tense about something. He’s a good kid all the same and he lowkey gave me Izuku vibes because they want to be a hero but he also gives me Rin (Blue Exorcist) vibes because he gets a bad rep and being called Devil even though he’s really sweet and has a good character. Seeing him in action I can’t help but think how would he do in the my hero universe (he’d kick so much ass) Has a typical shonen protag tragic backstory about his mother and brother and so has a reason to be in the fire force, I like the drive to be a hero from that kid dream he had, I look forward to him finding the answers he seeks while also not looking forward to seeing him fight his kid brother (I fucking swear if he has to kill his own brother I will fucking scream)

Akitaru: Oh my god fucking hot, fucking cute that's my husbando right there. When he called Shinra’s smiling quirk cute I fucking melted. The Dad (and daddy) of this squad I see him looking out for the other and providing a solid foundation of justice. a swell guy that has the whole groups trust and respect and I just hope nothing happens to this man. When Joker gave Shinra a reason to doubt the fire force i was a little nervous but so far so good team 8 seems to have been formed for a specific reason bc the other teams are lowkey shady.

Hinawa: stereotypical glasses character, annoyingly strict, and give the mc a hard time. In comparison to captain he annoyed me, by putting down my boy Shinra without giving him a real chance, (it wasn’t Nighteye lvl of annoying  but still) but overtime I’ve warned up to him, I tend to like the glasses characters too (Kyoya...I blame Kyoya) so by this point I see he’s a caring individual in his own way, what sold me is when he pulls Shinra aside to check on him and ask if he was ok...also mans can cook so bonus.

Maki: Mikasa vibes, just a woman with some muscle but she seems very insecure about it. I like she’s such a romantic maiden at heart though. I like her Sputter flames, so cute it made me think of calsifer from Howl’s moving castle.

Iris: I took one look at her and went: a sister. oh fuck religion is going to be a big influence in this show. Ignoring my own personal bias feelings of religion it seems she serves the purpose of praying for the souls of those who turned nothing too special about her, she’s sweet even though she has her tragic backstory with everyone but her and Hibana watched the whole damn church burn. 

Arthur: Annoying. I thought he was gonna be some sort of edgy rival for Shinra since they seem to fight on sight. However he’s kinda this cute idiot. But his knight at the round table schtick is kinda aggy he reminds me of that one classmate in my class that took Shakespeare too seriously. Maybe he’ll warm up on me later he has got to be more than the idiot blond (maybe at some point they’ll drop a back story on him)

Tamaki: Adorable, her powers make her look like a twin tailed cat (I not sure but I think there is like fire yokai so it works for the fire theme of this show) and I love cats so she's adorable. However this trend of her being clumsy af all of a sudden and becoming undressed and/or being groped or touched by Shinra accidentally only for her to hit the hell out of him is a trope i kinda want to die already like it’s not even funny. I’m an elder weeb so i’m not new to this but idk if it just my old age but I’m kinda over it. So even though I found her so cute earlier she’s almost annoying me even though its not her fault its the creator. 

Hibana: Bad bitch, she had dudes as her chair and had dudes lined at her feet like a red (in this case orange) carpet. Love seeing a black woman thrive (she’s brown skinned or whatever so I’m claiming her as black until further notice).Stunning, only I hate the oddly shaped eyes (it works given her power is flowers and her eyes are in a shape of a flower) but it was jarring to see it. It reminded me of Nia teppelin (Gugrren laggan) did she make me wanna stomp her for messing with my boy Shinra? yes. But I kept wondering why was I so awed by her I looked up her VA and it made sense, fucking Riza Hawkeye and Erza Scarlett (I am watching it dubbed, blame Hulu for not letting me have an option for sub but its whatever I’m committing to the dub for now) and well I respected her more. Also love how she wasn’t actually into that religion stuff even though she was taken in by the sisters. Now her moment with Iris after she got her shit rocked, sweet, adorable, so cute. Also her sudden affections for Shinra going forward is cute not sure if I ship anyone at this point but adorable is adorable I can not deny that.

Rekka: My stars that annoying. I also cringed because it reminded me of (yagamiyato’siida if you know then you know) And again with the weird ass eyes its not missed on mean that Hoshi is means star and its a part of his surname. But he went from 0-100 real quick once I realized he’s who Shinra is looking for and once again  me being wary over religion is validated through the white coats or Evangelist running around turning people into infernals on purpose (once again we back on some AOT shit) this man is bat shit crazy but he somewhat succeeded I wonder what it means for that kid who happened to be compatible with that bug thing (and of course Shinra is special bc the bug reacted to his fire) anyway what I learned from this character than religion got this universe all the way fucked up and the direct result of this is that religion has a firm hold in government and I know this is not finna be good.

[huntertales]

Part One: I Say A Little Prayer. (I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here S09E01)

Episode Summary: The Winchesters are left in a frantic state after the reader collapses, setting off a chain reaction of events with deadly consequences. Out of desperation, Dean sends out a prayer and meets an angel named Ezekiel, both of them make a unorthodox benefiting both parties while the reader fights for her life. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Episode Warning: Heavy angst, mentions of childbirth, stillbirth aftermath, character death(s), hints of depression. Word Count: 5,025.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

“The MRI shows massive internal burns affecting many of the major organs. Oxygen to the brain has been severely deprived...”

Sam could hear what the doctor was trying to say, but he couldn’t get himself to listen to  much of anything. He blamed it on the lack of sleep he had gotten since this ordeal unraveled. He was exhausted, his body felt heavy. Every part of him wanted to rest his eyes even if it was just for a few minutes. But his mind wouldn’t let him. He feared if he took his attention off of you for even the slightest second something worse could happen. Not that it already did. How much worse could this situation get? You were lying in a hospital bed apparently in a comatose state while Dean had to make arrangements for a human life that never got a fighting chance. To see what life could offer them. To see how much love their parents could give them. Sam tried to share the burden of the decisions, but each time he tried to help, his older brother butted him out. It was Dean’s child, it was his decision for what needed to be done. 

Sam was left with his thoughts as he sat in this hospital chair, staring...thinking about all the ways he let you down. He had been there with you every step of the way. How did he not see the warning signs earlier? And if he did, would have it made a difference? He watched as the months passed by and the effects of the trials slowly wither you away into the deranged, hopefully hopeless woman who just wanted to do good. Who tried her hardest to achieve that and some inner peace for all the past mistakes she made. In the end, no matter how good you had done, it never felt good enough. You always thought the choices you made were the wrong one. The people you love trusted you, just at arm’s length. Not enough for you to do a little heavy lifting and save the day.

Sam understood where you were coming from on a deeper level, more than Dean could ever try. He understood why you were doing this. It was more than just making a better future for yourself and the child that you were carrying. Somehow the trials messed with your head along the way and filled it with false hope that you didn't need to achieve. They made you believe all the damage you were doing to your body was somehow purifying you. Cleansing away the demon blood that was most likely gone by now. You could take the demon out of the girl, and she would still believe she was a monster. Sam felt like that a lot himself. He could save hundreds of lives and yet it couldn’t make up for the ones he lost. The people he hurt over the years after he trusted the wrong people. His decisions at the time might have made him happy, but it only hurts the ones he loved the most. 

Maybe if the roles were reversed, if somehow Sam caught on faster to what you were doing that night when all of you were trying to complete the first trial, it would be him lying in the hospital bed. Sam would have been the one standing in the church confessing all of his greatest sins. Letting the people he loved down. Letting his big brother, the man who was a pain in his ass at times...who spent his entire life just trying to make sure he was safe, feel like he couldn't trust him. He thought that was the worst feeling in the world. Not having your own flesh and blood, the person you spend every day with, not trust you with anything that mattered. He thought nothing could top that. Until he figured out you were going into labor three months early, and Dean had to deliver him the news. It made Sam realize he let the one person who had always been there for him down. He should’ve kept a better eye on you. But he didn’t. And because of that, this was the outcome.  

“...The coma is the result of the body doing everything in its limited power to protect itself from further harm.”

Sam was torn away from his thoughts when he heard the doctor finish up what he was saying about the patient in his care. He stood at the edge of the bed and overlooked the medical chart to see if there might have been any improvements from the last time he checked up on you. However, it seemed there was little progress, things were spiraling downwards at a faster rate than they hoped. Dean observed the x-rays the doctor ordered to have done to see the extent of your injuries. It a medical mystery as to what happened to you. The doctors were doing everything in their power to fix this, but they feared not even modern medicine could heal the damage that was done. Dean felt his heart sink at the months of stress and damage put on your body. While it things looked bleak, you were still in there fighting. Maybe there was a chance you could pull through. You’ve done it before. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Dean muttered time himself. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, the guilt ridden expression on his face never left since he got here. It seemed to grow worse at the sight of things and more bad news being given to him. All he needed was a break, a little ounce of luck for him to believe things were going to get better.

“If your wife continues on this trajectory, the machines might keep her alive, but—“ The doctor’s voice was quiet as he told him the bitter future the brothers would have to look forward to. They would be burying two bodies. 

“She’ll be dead.” Sam cut off the doctor, finishing the diagnosis he had found. He slowly moved his gaze away from your body and to a spot on the ground. 

"Technically, yes." The doctor nodded his head. "I'm afraid so." 

"So there's—there's no recovery?" Dean found himself asking the question he didn't want the answer to. Hee needed to know in order to plan for future action. In case modern medicine failed him when he depended on it more than ever. "I mean, there's no bounce-back. There's no nothing." 

"I'm afraid that's in God's hands now." The doctor thought some comforting words in times of distress would have been helpful in this situation. Many families looked towards spiritual guidance, but it seemed his words only added fuel to the fire.

Dean found himself staring at the doctor for a long second before he spoke up, deciding to give the man a piece of his mind. "You're a doctor. You're a medical professional. You're trying to tell me that my wife's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a comfort?" Dean found himself losing his patience for the first time since he got here. He had been an eerily calm, but he couldn't take it anymore. He snapped at the man who was supposed to be taking care of the woman he loved. Who wasn't supposed to lying in that bed in the first place. Because it was your trust in God that that put you there in the first place. 

"Mr. Dougherty—" The doctor tried to apologize for the nerve he seemed to have hit, Dean didn't give him a chance. He was sick and tired of being saying sorry. He just wanted someone to do their damn jobs and save your life before it was too late. 

"That's not good enough. God has nothing to do with this equation. Do you think if God was here he would've let this happen?" Dean questioned the doctor. The man tried once again to defuse the situation, knowing well enough his outburst was caused by the grief. Dean still wasn't speaking. "I already lost someone. That's a life I can't get back. I have to live with that grief for the rest of my life. But she still has a fighting chance. I'm putting my trust in you to fix her. Not God. Screw him. Just do your damn job." 

Sam jumped up from his seat and mae his way over to his brother before the man could do something he would regret while he was in this stage. Both of them were hurting right now. Sam wanted nothing more than to act out on his feelings. Punch a wall. Violently shake the doctor to get him to do something. Sell his soul to the first demon if it meant he got you back. But it wasn't the time. 

"Dean, calm down." Sam mumbled to the older man. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder in some kind of attempt to console the man, Dean violently shrugged off the man. Dean tossed the doctor a deathly glare before he stormed out of the room. Sam let out a heavy sigh from what unfolded and looked over at the doctor. "I'm sorry. It's..."

"I understand. I wish there was more that I could do." The doctor apologized. Sam could see the man's own guilt at the lack of resources he could provide. "What conspired is nothing short of a tragedy. Believe me when I say we're doing everything we can. We have grief counselors for you and your brother if you feel talking to someone might make this transition easier."

Sam could only nod his head at the meager offer. He watched as the doctor made his way out into the hall to check on other patients. The younger man made his way over to you and back to the same chair he had been sitting in since all of you got here. He found himself reaching out to grab your hand and place it into his own, as if he needed to be reminded that you were still here. You weren’t gone just yet. Every part of him wanted to believe you were going to bounce back like the other times before. But in the back of his mind he knew. He was stuck with a moral dilemma of what the right thing to do was.

The three of you would do anything for each other. And you have. You and Dean sold your souls for the chance of Sam to live. Sam said yes to the devil and threw himself in the cage as some kind of hope to save his family. Over the years it was a constant run around selling souls, tricking Death and so many other half assed plans to save you from this situation. One day it was going to have to end. The question was always when. Sam wondered if today was when you got off for good. Even though there was always a way out of this, he wasn’t sure how to get there. 

What was the right thing to do in this situation? Let the one person he loved like family since he was a kid have peace, or bring them back from the dead and force them to face the consequences? Miscarriages happen without reasons. It wasn't your fault, but he knew you would blame yourself. It would eat you up inside. There was no good choice. You either live and feel like wanting to die, or you let the people you love suffer without you. Sam didn't know if you would go to Heaven. He hoped so. Maybe your soul was marked for hell. Sam thought after Bobby died he was kicking up his feet and relaxing for the very first time. Turned out he was rotting in hell. Sam didn't want to give up. He couldn’t. 

In the back of his mind he knew what he wanted to do. Even though he knew if that was him lying in that hospital bed, teetering on the edge of death, he would have wanted to be put to rest. It was selfish and unfair to bend the rules while the rest of the human population suffered. But you and the Winchesters weren’t like most people. And Sam couldn’t turn his back on his family. Not this time...not again. Not ever. 

+ + +

Dean didn’t know what else to do, or where to turn. Angels were falling from the sky. You were close to the edge of death. He made funeral arrangements for his unborn child. He just wanted one thing to go right. Maybe that’s why he was sitting in the hospital chapel, his knees resting on the wooden bar to help him pray. He wasn’t sure he had formally done this before. He always said praying was like begging. No good came out of it. Because God wasn’t there to answer. He could say that to everyone in the chapel, Dean highly doubt they would care. Because when you have someone who’s sick and dying, the only hope you have is for the big guy upstairs and his angels. They hope that maybe they’ll have a miracle come their way if they prayed hard enough.

The man might have been here for the same reason, trying to reach out for a higher power, but Dean wasn’t trying to get in contact with God. He was getting in contact with his friend. Both of them might have bad a rough patch, but push comes to shove, Dean knew he was the only person he could count on during times like this. 

“Cas, are you there?” Dean quietly started off his prayer, hoping that the angel might be able to hear him. He wasn’t sure what to expect. For the angel to pop up right next to him and scare the crap out of him like always, ignore his call because of how things ended. Even if that was the case, Dean knew Cas would come when he told him what had happened. “Y/N’s hurt. She’s hurt...she’s hurt pretty bad. And, um...I know you think that I’m pissed at you, okay? But I don’t care that the angels fell. So whatever you did, or didn’t do, it doesn’t matter, okay? We’ll work it out. Please, man, I need you here.”

Dean waited a second before he opened up his eyes, part of him hoping that the angel would be here to save the day. But when he turned his head to stare at the pew, he felt his heart sink at the sight of the empty seat. He thought that would have worked. Cas wouldn't ignore his prayers, not after what he said. Something was going on. Whatever it was, he didn't have time for it. Desperate times call for desperate measures. What he was about to do was stupid, but he didn't care. Dean told himself he would do anything to get you back. And he was about to. He mumbled a “screw it” underneath his breath and got to work. 

“Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester...and I need your help.” Dean would have never done this before. “The deal is this—Linwood Memorial hospital, Randolph, New York. The first one who can help me gets my help in return, And you know that ain’t nothin’. Hell, it’s no secret that we haven’t always seen eye to eye. But you know that I am good for my word, and, uh, I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t needing, so…” 

He found himself trailing off, not sure what else he could say. Dean had done a lot of things in his time to get back the people he loved. He let out a heavy sigh and pressed his fists against his forehead, wondering if what he just did was the right decision. Or he was just like everyone else here in this chapel. An idiot talking to themselves searching for that little miracle that might never come. 

+ + +

“You’re dying, Y/N.” 

The words felt out of place for the situation that you were in. Every part of you wanted to believe it was some kind of mixup that Dean was getting at. You weren’t dying. There was no way possible. You sat there in silence for a few moments, not saying much of anything. All you could do—all that you could focus on at the moment, was how different your stomach felt. You kept feeling it to see why it did. You found yourself patting your hand against the flesh as if you were trying to rouse movement from the particular spot in your body. It would suddenly feel heavier like you remembered, more rounder. The skin was harder to protect the new life inside of you that you had been creating over the past several months. 

Instead your index finger the stomach you had before all of this started. The body you had loved, the one who carried you for the past thirty-three years. The only soul living inside of your body. For a second your own question lingered on your mind, almost forgetting what Dean had said. 

“What happened to my baby?” You found yourself asking a question that felt more appropriate for the situation. You slowly were understanding why it felt weird and out of place. Because you were supposed to be six months pregnant. Far enough along to show, and to feel the baby’s movement. Your eyes shot forward to the front seat, staring at the two men who had told you that you were dying. But that wasn’t the most important thing on your mind right now. “Guys, what happened to the baby?”

An uncomfortable silence fell through out the car as your question remained unanswered. You frantically began trying to wrack your brain for any kind of clue as to what was going on here. You remembered getting out of the church, seeing first hand of all the angels being expelled from heaven...and that was it. You tried your hardest to figure out the missing details, but it was like your mind was blocking out the memory from you. "Look, this is for your own good—"

“Damn it, what the hell is going on?!” You practically screamed on the top of your lungs out of frustration from the lack of answers you were being given. A sense of dread came over at you from how they were acting. They only got like this when they were trying to withhold bad news for you. Tears began to prick your eyes from what it was. “What happened?”

The boys exchanged a look between one another before Dean adjusted his grip on the wheel, he loosened his fingers so he was gripping it so tightly. “You’re dying, Y/N.” Dean repeated the information once again. Your face scrunched up with horror at the words that came out from his mouth, this time you were understanding what he was saying. “Look, just because you’re dying doesn’t mean you’re…dead—not yet. We’re gonna fight this. I got the plan. You just need to hang on. You hear me?”

“If I’m dying...then why the hell are we still driving? Are we going to a hospital?” You bombarded the man with questions that demanded answers before he could say anything. You ran your fingers through your hair in fearful frustration. “And what’s going on with my body? Nothing’s making sense.”

“We need you to understand that you’re not really in this car right now? We are in your head, and you’re in a coma and are dying.” Dean informed you of the bad news. You slowly looked over at him, a sense of disbelief crossing your face. All of it felt like he was lying to you when you were hit with a sudden image that felt like more a memory. Screaming, crying...Dean holding your hand, telling you to hold on a little longer. You began to shake your head. “You slipped into one after you—”

“No, no. You’re lying.” You suddenly pressed your hands against your ears and shut your eyes to block out the information that was coming back to you all at once. You were doing everything in your power not to come face to face with the truth. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening—”

Before you could repeat the mantra again, you suddenly felt someone grab ahold of your wrists and violently shake you back into reality. You opened your eyes to see that Dean was leaning over the seat, hands off the wheel, forcing you to look at him. “Pull yourself together, damn it! Now is not the time to spiral.” 

“How…” You found yourself taken aback at what was going on right now, and how you were still on the road while Dean neglected the wheel. 

“Listen to me. We are in your head, and you’re in a coma and are dying.” Dean repeated back the information that you tried to ignore. “Do you understand me?” 

Slowly, you nodded your head. Dean let go of your wrists and got back into his seat, placing his hands back on the wheel as if it mattered. You found yourself sitting perfectly still for a few seconds as your mind began to wrap itself around the situation that was unraveling. "How...how do you know that? Me, dying."

"Because I'm you. Sam's you. You're you. All of this is you." Dean explained the details, gesturing a hand to the Impala itself. You furrowed your brow as you looked around the place. All of it felt so real. And yet it was starting to feel like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from. "We're in your head!"

"You're serious." You mumbled. Dean didn't respond, he kept his eyes on the road. Sam looked over his shoulder to give you a solemn nod. You felt yourself leaning back in your seat as you rubbed your face with your hands. "The whole reason why I stopped doing the trials was not to die. And I'm dying..." The baby was most likely gone. It explained why you didn't feel pregnant anymore. Because you weren't. 

"You didn't know, Y/N. None of us did." Sam spoke up before you could spiral again. An overwhelming sense of guilt and sadness hit you like you had never experienced before. You pressed a hand against your mouth to keep a sob from escaping. "It's not your fault."

“The next time we see Naomi or Metatron or whoever is to blame for this, we will get some justice, but for right now, we gotta fight this, sweetheart.” Dean snapped you, trying to focus your attention on the situation at hand. “This ain’t over for you or the baby. Not for a long shot. Got it?”

“Okay.” You inhaled a deep breath and composed yourself. He was right. This wasn’t the first time you had experienced death before. You knew people in all the high places to fix this. One you got your hands on that slimy little angel you were going to make him pay. You were going to make him bring your child back to life, hit the undo button. Everything was going to be okay. But in order for that to become a reality you needed to get the hell out of here. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m working on it.” Dean replied a few seconds later, his tone quieter, a little less confident than before.

“What does that mean? I’m sort of dying here, apparently.” You reminded the man. 

“It means that I’m working on it, all right?” 

“The thing is, if I am dying—and I believe you guys. I do. But if you’re you and Sam’s him...but the both of you are really me and you’re the part of me that wants to fight to live…” You were confusing yourself from the things that just came out of your mouth from trying to understand the complex situation going on here. And yet all of it made sense to you 

“Yes.” Dean said, completely lost himself at what the hell you were going on about. “I have no idea what you just said.” 

"Think of it like this. You're Y/N's logic. You're telling her what to do and focus on getting out of here. I'm the emotional side of her." Sam tried to explain the situation to his brother, in reality it was to yourself to make sense of the simulation your brain made up. "She needs to compartmentalize her grief. Long enough to figure out a plan to get the baby back.” 

“Well, you kind of slipped up earlier…” Dean muttered to his brother. 

“Okay. But if you guys don’t have any idea how I’m supposed to fight, then am I supposed to be fighting at all?” You found yourself posing an important question that felt right to be asked. If you choose to ignore what happened and give yourself a fighting chance to make things right. Even if it somehow worked out in the end...you didn’t think you would be able to live with yourself. The memory would haunt you for years to come. But you were jumping to conclusions. You still had no clue how to get out of here. You were stuck. 

“Are you serious?” Dean asked you in disbelief. 

“Hell yes she’s serious.” A voice you thought you were never going to hear again suddenly came out of nowhere. You turned your head to see none other than Bobby Singer sitting in the backseat with you. You blinked, officially wondering to yourself what in the hell was going on here. “And if you ask me, I think the kid’s got a good point.” 

“Y/N wants to die, and you think she’s got a point?’ 

“Okay, I don’t want to die.” You defended yourself from the words that Dean was putting in your mouth. “I asked if maybe I was supposed to be—”

“Shut it, Y/N.” Dean cut you off before you could say anything else. It seemed your mind was getting a fight with itself. The logical part of your brain with your heart. “You—go. Oh, and uh, before you throw me under the bus, you’re welcome for the hell rescue.”

“Hey, first of all, you didn’t rescue jack, half-wit. Y/N did. Second of all, Y/N,” You turned your head away from the front seat and to the man who was supposed to be the part of you that deep inside was okay with. Part of you that wanted to die. “You’re in a coma. Now, suck as they may, sometimes that’s just the way things go.” 

“What are you talking about?” Sam jumped into the argument. “There’s a way. You taught us that.” 

“Oh, you mean like the way one of you idjits does some ‘bass-ackwards’ crazy thing to beat death, like sell your soul?” Bobby wondered if that’s what they were talking about. 

“Exactly like selling my soul.” Dean defended himself. 

“Yeah, like that worked so well last time.” Bobby said. 

Dean scoffed at the attitude and dismissively waved a hand at the man. “Oh!” 

“Enough! All of you!” You suddenly snapped in frustration from the voices that were going on about nothing. You rubbed your eyes from everything that was unraveling quicker than you could process. “I can’t hear myself think!”

You never felt more overwhelmed in your life than you did right now. You felt yourself being tugged into two different directions, but you weren't sure which was the right one. Dean noticed your hesitance about listening to him. "Well, you're not actually buying this, are you?"

“Excuse me. Are you dead? Because I am, and maybe I’m here because I’m part of Y/N that actually knows what the hell she’s talking about.” Bobby shot back at the older Winchester, starting an argument that wasn’t defusing the situation. 

“Well, Sam and I are in the front seat because Y/N put us here because she wants to fight.” Dean said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. He looked over his shoulder to shoot you a quick glance to make sure. “Right?”

It seemed that wasn’t the case. Bobby found himself sitting in the middle of the brothers, squishing himself between the decision you were trying to make. "Well...that just got real uncomfortable." Bobby said. He didn’t want to stick around much longer for the argument that was going nowhere. The three of you had a chance to have a conversation, now it was his turn. He swung a hand over his shoulder and grabbed ahold of your wrist. "See ya, boys." 

“Y/N, don’t you dare—” 

Before you could hear the man protest for you to stay in the car, you found yourself somewhere else. Your eyes wandered around your new surroundings, a forest from the looks of it. The scenery was peaceful looking. The sky was a bright blue, the sun was shining. Sounds of wildlife all around you. For the first time since you got here you felt a sort of peace. You looked around for a moment before you settled your gaze on the man you saw once before back in hell after you rescued him. It felt sort of odd that he was part of yourself that you thought about when the situation called for it. When you took the deal for Dean to save him from hell, the apocalypse. Your death was to benefit everyone in the long run. But it felt like you needed to discuss it. 

“Yip, yip, yip. Am I right?” Bobby asked, cracking a smile from the debacle he saved you from. 

“Honestly, Bobby, I—” You let out a heavy sigh from the emotional conflict you were having inside your own brain. “I don’t know what’s right.”

"Let's walk, kid." Bobby placed a hand on your shoulder and guided you down the path deep into the forest, leading you to a reason why death wasn’t so bad. 

[Next Part]

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[mvrcutios]

— INTRODUCING:

➺ Alexandre Preston as  M𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔬

Hi everyone! I’m Olivia, 24 from the pst timezone !! I love romantic foreign films and every incarnation of Skam ever created. Also, tik tok. Way way too much tik tok. This is my interpretation of Mercutio (loml tbh), Alexandre! A pretty boy with charm and brains and you bet your ass he knows it. Portrayed by the beaut that is Maxence Fauvel,  i’m genuinely filled to the brim with muse for this boy so, without further ado, time for the main event! (as he prefers to be lbr )

name: alexandre henri preston

age: 21

birthday: July 28th, 1998

gender: male

pronouns: he/him

degree: double major of business & music composition (father currently aware of the 1st)

zodiac: leo.

languages: fluent in french & italian, attempting to swear in russian and japanese.

hobbies: piano, cello, running, sex, parties, reading

vices: whiskey, gin, socialites, card games, fast cars, midnight symphonies, menthol cigarettes

pinterest is here !!

the aesthetic: Dom Pérignon, lipstick stained shirt collars, blue eyes with darkened circles, menthol cigarettes, 2am melodies on a piano down the hall, bruised knuckles, hotel balconies, strobe lights and heavy bass, macarons flaked in gold, lips pressed to cheeks, 3am club invitations, lingering eyes, too bright smiles, bitten bruises soothed with a tongue,shattered mirrors, ripped fingernails, screaming into the silent night, laughter whispered into skin, pills pressed to tongues,  platinum amex cards, chewed on pens, eyes growing distant, texts left on read, ink over his heart for his maman, naps under campus oak trees, flasks sipped in a lecture hall, hands on hips, backs, and his own throat.

           ➺ but what is in a name?

➺ { Alexandre } : The french translation of Alexander. Defender of Man. The irony of a name is not lost on him, nor the man who’d held it. He was named for his maternal grandfather, a man who had sold his soul (and his eldest daughter)  for money, power, name, all under the guise of the importance of family. A name meaning man of honor. Certainly a strong name for a boy who’d been born to rule a soiled throne, but content to find ways to sneak sweets from the kitchen, trick a smile from his mother as she stared out the window yet again. But defenders are not born, no.They are made, and from the moment blue eyes opened for the first time he was destined to be just that. Made. Into his father’s visions, his mother’s dreams. And Xandre is no fool. All he wants — no, rather. All he desires from life is simple. Everything.

➺ { Henri } Ruler of households. Once again nothing but irony for a boy who grew up wanting for nothing in life, but knowing the expectations were to be just that. A leader. Who would be the one to tell him that the throne he was set to rest upon was built on the blood and bones of the lesser fortunate? More importantly, who would teach him to care?

➺ { Preston } Meaning priest, settlement, enclosures of God. Carried to England from Normandy after the great conquest. A name befitting to the family who in some circles considered themselves holier than most. Gods among men. Who turned whiskey to gold, words to bank notes, and blood into power. If you were a Preston, people knew it. And what could be better than that?

   ➺ for he  is the devil in every detail                

➺ ( + ) He was a boy of pressed shirts and dark windswept waves. Blue eyes that sparkled of mischief and peels of laughter that echoed down marbled halls. He was Alexandre Preston, a boy with the stars in his eyes and the world at his feet. Who when he smiled, his entire face lit from within and led to that hint of the  devil sparkling just so from that gaze of his. Who smelled of citrus and whiskey and a bite of mint. Who adored beauty, in life and what it had to offer him. A man who’d grown into his looks and was taught by a wise mother just how to use them, a well placed kiss to a cheek or brush of skin, eyes meeting across a room enough to give them what they desired and more than ever, what he craved. He was tall, dark and oh so handsome, and knew how to get just what he wanted. Born with his father’s intellect and drive for more, padded by his mother’s beauty and ability to wield it for the weapon it could be. It made him anything but a bore, a useless first son too afraid to grasp what was before him. No, Xandre knew his fate. But in the meantime, he lived his life how he chose. If dearest dad was none the wiser, well. What’s the harm?

➺ ( + ) But let’s go back to the beginning, shall we? Born on a warm evening in late july, Alexandre Henri was destined to be the only child of Simon Preston and Violette Dupont. A product of two passionate individuals and a loveless marriage, Xandre’s mother was the eldest daughter to a man of debt. The Dupont family had in name what they lacked in capital and with a marriage between Violette and Simon, had everything to gain. Xandre’s birth was a bright burst of fleeting color for a mother who felt caged into the world she’d sold herself to, doting on the little boy and doing what she could to leave him with a part of her, a piece of her own waning soul. Where Simon was boastful, she was wicked, demure. Where he was aggression, she was soft sighs and whispered curses. Two sides of  what lead to be a machiavellian son. Destined to rule with a gilded fist and fleeting, passionate heart.

➺ ( + ) He was put into lessons as a boy to dwindle that energy that thrummed with his every step, sports and arts and languages but they were fleeting moments of time, hobbies cast aside once the obsessive grip of his mind released them. But his mother’s love of piano rang true to his blood, picking up the instrument even with some difficulty. It bothered him so, to have something he couldn’t master with minimal effort. It required a honed drive, a passion and ethic to create something magnificent through nothing more than hard work. It fueled him, the boy almost manic with the late hours he spent alone in the sun room, fingers dancing along keys and cursing with every missed note. As he grew, so did the realization that it was not something you could master. The great composers themselves went mad with trying. It was a never ending race, and one he still holds steadfast this very day. It is as much a part of him as anything could be. Alexandre is meant to be a leader, Alexandre blows thousands on parties and card games, Alexandre needs music like air to rattling lungs. His current double major at Ashcroft is a direct result. If he’s to live out this new version of day to day, he’ll do as he pleases. As long as his father remains where he belongs, ignorant as the rest are.

➺ ( + ) if music was a stronghold, most everything else in his world was a passing fancy, aimless ways to spend time and money and have fun in this life he was so destined to lead. High school meant parties and fun, learning the intricacies of the body and passion as girls and boys alike came and went from white rumbled sheets. For his mother had taught him to wield beauty for what it was; a weapon. And oh, did he learn with the best. A university career begun at Oxford (if only to spite his father), where the real fun began, nights spent in club after club until the sun rose again, liquor fueled nights of passion and fun, barred from certain clubs and embraced at others, heavyweight card games and street races with a bottle of dom in hand. Started a gambling ring in his dorm hall until the RA caught wind a year later. (But he eventually joined, so no harm no foul) He was at an all time high, never fearing the inevitable crash to follow. He welcomed it like an old friend, navigated the highs and lows with a long learned finesse. Now in Edinburgh, he chases the residual high with his normal vigor, finding drinking buddies to waste an evening with, occasional bodies to slip into his too high thread count sheets.

➺ ( + )  The very definition of love ‘em and leave ‘em. Xandre doesn’t do true relationships, has never truly given his heart to someone in any form. He doesn’t believe in it, the type of love that makes people do such foolish things. He does foolish things just fine on his own, heart be damned. He can be passionate, charming, attentive lover at the best of times, possessive fool at the worst of times. He loves to feel desired, wanted, needed even. But never aims to be someone’s entire world. That type of need, that type of love does nothing but wound. And every wound he will ever have will be of his own creation. Has had more than a few flings, even reoccurring instances of women or men a few times in a row. But the connections are shallow, surface deep. You don’t need to witness his soul to get into his bed, afterall.

➺ ( + )  It was all a beautiful distraction from the blood that stained every letter of his name. His cousin was allowed to live in blessed ignorance of the family means, but Xandre, he was thrown headfirst into the lion’s den and came out grinning, the truth of it never leaving past blood stained lips. He isn’t resentful of that fact. A part of him feels it was always meant to be this way. If his cousins were the sun, he was the endless night, the whispers of shadows and secrets meant to withstand. For he could take it, surely. Right?

➺ ( + ) while his fate may be anything but up for debate, he is anything but a too willing participant. Being at Oxford meant enough distance to gain a bit of the freedom he craved. The night his father was arrested, Alexandre was doing what was normal, even on a tuesday evening. Partying at a local hotspot four bottles deep in champagne and whiskey, pills pressed to lips in between fevered kisses of a woman who’s name escaped him the next morning. Sweetened black coffee in hand as he watched his phone buzz over and over, the news blaring the headline of what he’d always known would come to fruition. But his father was still kicking, and so the heavy head who bears the crown was not yet his own. So he went about his day, his week, his months. Until, octavia.

➺ ( + ) his cousins were the siblings he’d never had, and for a man who doesn’t truly believe in intricacies of love he loves them with all he has in him. Wolfie the brother he’d craved, the two stirring trouble with every laugh as they raced down the cavernous halls of their homes. Days spent listening to his whispered dreams, his own a hollow echo in response to the passion that thrummed from his cousin’s. The lectures of his poor influence never bothered him, his role had always been rather set after all. The shadow to the sun. Was he ever to be a leader? Possibly. But he was never born of the responsibility and dreams that lingered over his cousin, never expected to amount to anything rather spectacular beyond the built business reputation and blood that soaked the name Preston. He was too impulsive, too passionate to have it beaten from his bones, just always a little too much.

➺ ( + ) And Octavia – she held a special place in his heart. Daddy’s little girl, it was easy to see how she could bat her lashes and smile her smile and let the world fall at her feet. He admired it, respected it even. Game always has to appreciate the game. She and her brother leaving for Ashcroft was a blow he hadn’t anticipated, for they’d always had one another, the two musketeers and the girl who fought to be anything but a shadow. It was an unfamiliar ache, missing them. And with Octavia now gone, that ache has grown tenfold. Morphed into anger for what he knew she was up to, for somehow somewhere, she’d pissed off the wrong people to where even the Preston name couldn’t quite save her soul. But her essence is everywhere, haunting the halls and whispering in ears. It’s all so very dramatic, so very her. He’d pour one out for her if he didn’t think she’d simper about his distaste for wasted wine. Her spirit was a mild comfort, a balm over a roughened wound. a bigger amusement than anything, a middle finger to those who’d ended her bright existence. A Preston knew how to fuck you over, that was made all the more clear with each report of her sightings. And god, did he love her for it.

➺ ( + ) and that at the very crux of it all, is what has brought him to ashcroft. A new scene for parties, new faces, and a remaining cousin who could use a shoulder to lean on. & those all look lovely on paper, but the fine print? Always read it carefully. For the smiles and charm are all Violette without a doubt. But the danger that lingers, the passion and fire that fuel his soul and border on the precipice of mania? Alexandre is Simon Preston’s son, that was never to be denied for long. And someone has wronged them all, taken things they had no right to take. Someone he considered to be a part of his heart. He doesn’t take kindly to such things, and so to Ashcroft he’s come. He is passion, recklessness, a hidden grief fueled by fleeting love wrapped in a shiny veneered package. He’s here to revel, to discover, to maybe even punish. If deemed necessary. Blood will always be blood, and for a man who’s always willing to go a little too far? It is all that remains.

➺ ( + ) as for what has qualified him for such a prestigious society upon his enrollment well, that is a mystery to some and a hard headline to others. His family’s connections? His relation to Wolfie? His letters of transfer from his classical composition professors back in London? As far as Xandre is concerned, it’s nothing more than a certain Oberon Ashcroft seeing he has a role to play, and one he plays rather well. Unassuming at first, a disarming charm soothing the blunt edges of his words. He says what he feels, and what he knows must be said. And due to that, he knows his worth, what he brings to the table. Knows how poorly it would look if he hadn’t been inducted. He brings a good time, a laugh, a chance to rebel against the societal norms and oppressions that leak from every pore of Ashcroft. But he also brings a weighted name, a wicked ability to decipher through the purple prose people can preach, to the truth at the core of it all. And he plays a mean Chopin, what can he say?

➺ ( + ) there is no way to wrap up all that he is, to summarize a man who is nothing short of a dichotomy, a symphony in fractured parts. Perhaps a jekyll and hyde of his own making, two heads of the same beast he wielded within his soul. for there was something to be said of being seen, eyes drawn to your every move, to feel the power of being adored, desired, craved. He is the devil on your shoulder, crooning saccharine words and screaming in triumph in a breadth. A gleam of mania tinging those baby blues when he pushes just so to get his way. He is that very symphony, a concerto who’s pace continues to drive faster and faster, upward and onward until its very PEAK, a cacophony of beauty and agony as notes ring out, clash, COLLIDE. and then, the briefest moment of silence. He has discovered the distractions his body can wield, but also the power to be found in stillness, in silence. At his lowest he craves it, aches to be surrounded by masses just once more to drown out the roaring in his mind, to draw it to ecstasy, to blissful silence. All leading up to the final, ringing note. Before the applause, of course. never deny yourself the applause. That had always been Lesson One.

                          ➺    A LETTER TO OCTAVIA:

Tavia —

Where do I start? You always knew how to make an entrance, tav. should’ve figured your exit would be the same. But…why the fuck wouldn’t you call me? Why wouldn’t you tell me the extent of just how bad shit had gotten so quickly? You knew no matter what I said, or how I complained or warned you off to be careful I would’ve been there in a heartbeat. You didn’t have to do this alone. I should’ve seen that and come the first time you called. Don’t haunt me for that. And that police chief mentioned a baby, Tav. You never– me of all people would have understood. You were the only one I ever told about Clara, how my dad paid her off. You never judged me for him, you understood. Let me get wasted and cry it out in that shitty suite in London. We could have made a club of it, you and me. Poor little Rich kids with secret kids. Poetic, no?  Poetic justice is bullshit in hindsight. And I just really, really miss you.

I’m sure everyone in these letters are telling you the reasons they adored you, how they’ll never forget you, the wild memories they’re sharing with you, that they say they’ll never forget. I don’t need to say all those things. You know I do, and you know I won’t forget. You’re a part of my heart, as battered and shriveled as we liked to joke it is. But apparently death makes us sentimental fools, so here’s this for you, because it’s 4am and the memory won’t leave my mind no matter how many times I close my eyes. That summer we spent, all of us, vacationing in that house on the riviera. Remember? I spent the day running around the grounds with Wolf and we’d laugh and tease like elder brothers do when you’d seek us out, pouting those lips and crocodile tears until we included you in our games. But when the sun set and dinner was long gone, you’d drag me into the tea room with that baby grand in the corner and demanded I play. You always were a determined thing, you brat. But you’d smile that smile and even I couldn’t fight the urge to sit and play your favorites.You sang along and danced and danced and danced until you were breathless with it. Only you could make dancing to britney fuckin’ spears look like an artform you know? You’d call me your co-star, and never let me hate myself for the mistakes, never laughed if I stumbled on a note. You were my biggest supporter that summer, but I was only one of your many adoring fans. That’s how it was supposed to be. That won’t change, I promise.

( A few tears stain the edges of that previous paragraph, angry, bitter droplets that he wipes away and slips the paper further to defend the onslaught of them. He sighs deeply, clears his throat. )

And look at you now, huh? Haunting your friends and your brother with the best of ‘em. Leave it to you to find a way to remain the star of the show even in death. I can see how it’s unravelling them. The ones who look too pale to be innocent, everyone here has a fucking secret. Thanks to you maybe we’ll see them all sooner than later. And what fun that’s gonna be. But do me a favor and haunt some hot freshman for me, will you? Whisper sweet nothings of my beauty in their ears, make it a good one. I’ll owe you one. You know I’m good for it.

I’ll watch over Wolfie. Of course I will.  I’ll get him piss drunk at that club you mentioned last time we talked, bring a few lines and a bottle of dom all just for you, gorgeous. I’m here now for him, for you. I’m here for what I should have done from the beginning. If you had to leave him —had to leave us, it won’t be for nothing.

I miss you, cherie. Visit me tonight in my dreams, alright? You can dance for me, I’ll play you a song.

We’ll make it a happy one, for old times sake.

                                                     -Xandre

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 120 Thoughts

A Fleeting Moment.

You blinked and missed it.

Is there some sort of deadline that I am unaware of? Because I think this is the second chapter in a row that reads so YOLO that it carries the desperation of a death soon at hand.

Yes, that’s right.

This chapter.

Is a Zekesona.

Maybe it’s because I’m a heartless monster, but my predominant thought throughout this chapter--well, fine, we’re getting to the real one later, but mostly my thought was wow, we’re really just diving straight in to the plot magic.

I’m not going to stop calling it plot magic.

Starting out it might have been a deliberate attempt to avoid the grammar of all things Paths, but at this point... it’s here to make the plot go. Sense is optional.

.

.

Zeke, you’re fucking killing me.

I.

Let me. just.

Let me attempt to form words with my fingers. Or my head. Or anything at all. This chapter has beaten me. I read it, I consumed the information, and so help me, I think if I let myself, I would never stop laughing over this.

It’s not funny, it’s just.

This, as we have here, is the pinnacle of everything wrong with letting the Yeager Bros take the wheel of a car that is not only missing seat belts and brakes, but perhaps also a functioning wheel.

In the world that is still sort of maybe occupied by sanity, there’s. Zeke.

Holding his brother’s decapitated head.

While he and his brother have an extended Inception dream sequence to manage the fact that Eren should really be very dead.

Really, I could probably spare a few minutes on that, but I don’t want to, because the logistics of how dead Eren is, exactly, when years have to pass in the plot magic in the seconds it’s been since his head was shot off--

I feel like someone shot my head off.

So okay.

A dream level up, the fight goes on in excruciating slowmo.

Meanwhile, Zeke and Eren are.

Okay, yeah, can’t do it. Nope.

This is not a criticism of the writing, as of right now. Like, I have my severe hysteria because of course Zeke has spent his Inception time growing to surpass the chains the First King adorned himself with, and of course, for some unholy reason, those chains bind Zeke at all despite him rightly pointing out he’s not of the Reiss branch and Zeke not actually being the Founding Titan.

Those are things I am noting, and I am completely failing to have a reaction to them because my entire jaw is in pain from holding back laughter, but that is not my present comment.

My present comment.

Is that these two are fucking morons.

I do not mean that disrespectfully. I mean it with the full sincerity of someone who is absolutely okay with the text making them fucking morons.

But holy damn fuck these kids do not have a clue what they’re doing.

Zeke first meets Ymir Fritz when he nearly dies in an unexpected near-incidental suicide. That’s when he has his first hands-on experience with Paths.

Sorry, plot magic.

So um.

Both Eren and Zeke plan to finally make use of the Founder’s power by showing up at this place. They don’t know that at the time they make their plan, because it’s still new to them, they just know that they’re going to hold hands and stuff and somehow things will happen.

Eren thinks the things Zeke wants to happen are bullshit.

Shocking.

Zeke thinks the things Eren wants to happen are bullshit, despite having no clue what those things even are.

Shocking.

And like.

Neither one is getting what they want, because Eren can’t actually use the power he’s journeyed all this way to get, because if this were a real anime, Zeke would have pink hair of warning. Zeke’s royal blood matters more than Eren having the Titan.

Sort of.

Zeke can dismantle the chains on the Founding Titan that attach to him for some reason, but Eren seems to still be required to pull the trigger. (ETA)

So if Inception-verse did not exist, Eren would have just gotten whatever it is he’s after, which would be bad for Zeke by measure of it not being what Zeke wants, but because Inception-verse does exist, they have all the time in the world, Zeke has the means to get what he wants, only technically he doesn’t really because he still needs Eren to agree with him and that hasn’t happened yet.

All of this work.

All...

Good fucking what.

ALL OF THOSE DEAD BODIES, BOYS, AND NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAS JACK SHIT TO SHOW FOR IT.

SOMEHOW

BEYOND ALL COMPREHENSION

BOTH OF YOU ARE FAILING TO GET WHAT YOU WANT. BECAUSE OF THE VERY SIMPLE FACT THAT YOU NEVER TRULY BOTHERED TO UNDERSTAND THE PERSON OR THE POWER YOU WERE ASKING TO MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE.

EREN MISUNDERSTANDS THE NATURE OF THE FOUNDER.

ZEKE MISUNDERSTANDS HIS BABY BROTHER.

BOY I’M SURE GLAD WE’VE SPENT THIRTY CHAPTERS ON THE CLUSTERFUCK OF YOUR MUTUAL DECISIONS JUST TO FIND OUT NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAS A FUCKING CLUE HOW TO MAKE ANY OF THIS WORK.

YOU BROKE THE WORLD, FULLY CONFIDENT IN YOUR DUCT TAPE, ONLY TO DISCOVER THAT THE ROLL YOU WERE HOLDING WAS SOME OTHER COLLECTION OF TAPE THAT SOMEONE GAVE A SILVER PAINT JOB.

THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T GIVE CHILDREN GUNS.

THEY SHOOT THINGS.

YOU INCOMPREHENSIBLY DUMB FUCKS.

Once more, this is not a criticism of the writing. I think it’s very fair for Zeke and Eren to be interacting with forces beyond their understanding, and screw it all up badly. In Eren’s case, that force is some weird demigod demon who possibly sold their soul to the devil. In Zeke’s case, it’s the will to live.

Both very confusing things. It is perfectly reasonable for them to be having difficulties.

-pre-corpses screaming in the background, only in slowmo because the moment of Eren’s head being blown off hasn’t actually passed-

-Falco steaming in the dirt-

-all Eren’s friends risking their lives so they might maybe use the Founding Titan to fix this all up-

You can tell Eren and Zeke have a doctor for a father, because their elaborate plan depending on thousands of years of history and starting international incidents fails in the face of basic common sense.

No, I’m not done.

These would be the people who would change the world.

Eren.

This is why, when you were ten, your mother was already telling another ten-year-old to look after you. BECAUSE SHE KNEW. SHE KNEW THIS IS WHAT YOU WOULD CHOOSE TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE.

LO, BEHOLD THE NEW UNDERSTANDING OF CARLA’S TEARS AS HER CHILDREN LEAVE HER TO HER DEATH.

IF ONLY EITHER OF YOU HAD A BRAIN.

I’m sorry, I know I should be making comments on other parts of the chapter, but this is all just so typical, and so blisteringly obvious an outcome, and.

Well, we got a lot of nice shots of Grisha and his family. Yay.

Plus--

Oh.

Fuck.

No no no no no, no, I don’t want that.

The thought occurred that this probably is one of the many functions of the plot magic’s oddness around people remembering things they shouldn’t, and blah blah blah Eren crying at the start of the series, but...

Grisha sees Zeke for a moment. Just a moment, but he taps into their link in the Paths.

If Mikasa goes back to watch the memory of Eren sleeping while he’s supposed to be collecting firewood, I have objections. I don’t know what they are, but there’s a visceral reaction of how dare you if that’s where this is all heading.

But you know, that’s for people who do things like speculation about things that aren’t related to people with the last name Reiss, so not my problem.

Anyway, the flashbacks are not a surprise. Grisha loves Eren. He makes his mistakes with Zeke, and comes to regret them terribly. He becomes a better man, and leaves his obsession behind to hold his new family.

This explains what happens the night he kills the Reiss family very well.

In that moment, he must have felt, so keenly, that this is all his fault. He walks away from the Founder. He leaves his mission. He leaves the power behind.

The walls fall, and in the hands of the Reisses, the Founder can do nothing to assist.

His wife dies.

The obsession returns, and Grisha’s last act is saddling Eren with all of his mistakes. Because he learned from his old ones, but he found that those lessons just destroyed the new life he comes to love. Grisha abandons his cause, and Carla dies. Eldians die. Marley creates more victims.

How many people suffer needlessly because Grisha hesitates?

That’s not a burden he takes to well, and the Grisha in these memories never wanted his last moments with Eren to be what they were. It’s one more piece to the insanity that took hold that night. One more tragedy.

When Kruger gives Grisha the Attack Titan, he tells Grisha to love someone inside the walls. The instruction becomes to make a family, but its root is in love. The important part is that Grisha loves someone. Otherwise, the cycle continues.

Grisha loves his sons. He abuses one and nearly ruins him, and takes the next and loves him properly. That’s the son who rejects the idea that they should all die. He’s been given a life that he understands has glory in even its beginning moments, and understands how horrendous it is that Zeke would remove generations of future moments.

The problem that continues, however, is one that I imagine we’ll be addressing with future flashback episodes.

Zeke loves his little brother. Until time allows otherwise, he takes it for granted that his precious little brother will see things his way. He needs so little convincing to bring Eren into the fold. Even before he knows how much control he truly has, he fully accepts Eren.

He doesn’t know Eren.

Eren knows Zeke, because the truth of Zeke’s heart is in this plan.

He knows Zeke, and doesn’t do anything with that knowledge.

Eren and Zeke use each other to reach this place, and in the end, their failure to be there for one another results in neither one being able to wield the power that their union creates.

There might be love there, but it’s the ruined kind Grisha bestows on Zeke. Control is what matters. Reaching the end is what matters.

“Your wife. You child. Even someone on the street. It does not matter. Love someone inside the walls. If you can’t, we’re doomed to repeat it all again. The same history. The same mistakes. Again and again.”

The mistake Eren and Zeke make is the opposite of the one their father chooses in this memory. He puts his love for his family over his mission.

Eren and Zeke prioritize their mission so deeply that they might as well be strangers, no matter how often they refer to each other as brothers. Of course it’s a disaster.

The audience has been waiting for Eren’s side of this story for years, because we’ve watched him grow up. We’ve watched him struggle and triumph and lose himself, and none of that was enough to establish the train of thought that led to these choices that Zeke is so proud of him for making, so it’s been a known thing to us that he’ll have some sort of eventual reveal (which we’re still waiting on; this chapter just does us the favor of confirming that we are waiting).

Zeke wants to confirm Eren’s mindset before they kick things off, since he has the luxury of time in this space.

He never bothers to confirm Eren’s thoughts out in the living world. Not actively. Eren lies, and Zeke lets it pass as enough.

These two never try to help each other. They use each other up.

Zeke can swear to be there for Eren, can swear to set him free, but he does not see who his brother is, and Eren, knowing exactly what kind of person Zeke is, chooses to ignore that in favor of playing the long con.

They fail.

They fail their family by failing to see them as such, and so fail every other task they sought to accomplish.

The story’s forcing them to deal with that now, since they have so much time, but it is so easy to see why this happens. They’re desperate, and they grab their lifelines, and they decide that if there’s something wrong, it can wait.

In the metaphor, that’s fine. They need to stop drowning.

But they see each other as a lifeline before they see each other as siblings.

Grisha sees Zeke as a tool before he sees him as a son.

The same mistakes, over and over.

Some more familiar than others.

We’ve reached the above thing.

What I’m referencing is that really, all through this chapter my only concrete thought was Eren looks a lot like Frieda. Naturally not greatly evident in the shot that’s actually relevant to why I’m bringing it up. Why should I get nice things.

Like. A lot. To the point where it starts to feel intentional, not the result of my brain linking everything back to the Reiss lands. Eren’s hair doesn’t part like Grisha’s or Carla’s, and conveniently we’ve got the comparisons readily available. He has Frieda’s. The young woman his father took the Founding Titan from.

After a long series of consensual (with heavy sarcastic quotes, yes, but putting that aside for the moment) sacrifices, Frieda and Eren are the first in recent history to have their consent overridden. Frieda’s ripped to pieces by Grisha, and has her family slaughtered by him. Hours later, understanding nothing of either Titan he’s inheriting, Eren takes up the mantle.

Eren first sees Frieda through her eyes, looking in a mirror, and I absolutely know I’m reading too much into this, but give me a sec of indulgence. I rarely get to talk about Frieda in these posts.

Frieda, the one who Eren really does look bizarrely like, is Zeke’s foil.

In the two shots above, we have an older half-sibling using their powers to convince their younger sibling to see the world they want them to.

Zeke’s having his difficulties, but Frieda has none.

Frieda has a loving relationship with her little sister, and touches her head to Historia’s gently.

Zeke bashes his head to Eren’s forcefully.

Frieda loves Historia. She has no reason but love to come and pay her visits. She helps her learn to read, she rides horses with her, and provides her company.

Historia has all those memories taken away. Their relationship only exists on Frieda’s terms until five years after Frieda’s death.

In an attempt to keep this post from turning into me shouting about how the Reiss family is symbolic of the manga as a whole, and Historia needs to come back and rightfully re-dethrone Eren as the main protagonist, I’ll be brief:

Frieda screws Historia up.

She adores her little sister, but in a world without Frieda, Historia is left with neglect and an overwhelming sense that no one wants her to be alive. Frieda routinely takes away the memories that prove that belief wrong. For complicated reasons that a teenager shouldn’t be expected to handle, but Historia’s problems are still actively exacerbated by Frieda forcing her will on Historia.

Eren has more say in what his brother’s trying to pull, thanks to his own plot magic, but we see the problem, with the same dynamic.

Zeke loves Eren.

He can’t see past his view of the world to see Eren well enough to try to do what’s best for Eren.

This is not a collaboration. It’s two people fiercely opposed who have put that argument off until the last possible second rather than approach one another as equals.

Eren’s head is blown off. He’s due to be dead.

Zeke is still trying to rescue him from his own free will.

Love without respect is useless. It’s what turns the emotion selfish.

Idiots.

I’m torn on what this chapter means for future chapters, because I don’t see how Eren and Zeke are moving past this roadblock without finally dealing with the issues that landed them here, aaaand theoretically that means that Eren’s plan wins.

I guess we get to look forward to what that means if that’s the case.

But Eren’s head is still kind of. Not. On his body.

Which makes me think that whatever decision makes it out of Inception, it’s probably going to be one that alters the reality they’re playing with, and that is really hard to do satisfyingly.

Those are problems for another month, though.

I have trouble calling this chapter good, because a lot of it is. well, what did you expect when you chose to do things like this? There’s some satisfaction in the fact that the characters are truly being respected as the numbskulls they’ve behaved as, but that does little to make the overall situation better.

Thankfully, emotional flashbacks pander to my needs directly, so this will be a satisfying trainwreck, but, uh.

Yeah.

Local siblings don’t listen to each other on family roadtrip down memory lane, feat. apocalypse in the background. That is the chapter.

It needs to be drawn as the Renaissance painting it clearly is in spirit.

[mst3kproject]

623: The Amazing Transparent Man

 You know, when I think about it, it seems like a ‘transparent man’ should be a different thing from an ‘invisible man’.  An invisible man you can’t see… but there are a lot of transparent things that you can see.  Glass, water, quartz, or clear plastic are transparent, but you can still tell where they are because they bend the light that passes through them.  So shouldn’t a transparent man be more like the cloaked Predator, in that as soon as he moves you notice the distortion?  I’m just saying, that would look way cooler.

As the movie begins, some thoughtful person has arranged for bank robber Joey Faust to escape from prison.  Upon arriving at a ranch in the middle of what appears to be a nuclear wasteland, Faust learns that his benefactor is retired Major Paul Krenner, who wants to take over the world with an army of invisible soldiers.  To that end Krenner has forced his pet Nazi, Dr. Ulof, to build an invisibility ray, which he uses on Faust so the latter can steal tin cans of radioactive macguffin for him.  Faust, however, has other plans.  His invisible ass has banks to rob… if he doesn’t die of radiation poisoning first.

Like The Thing that Couldn’t Die, The Amazing Transparent Man is a one-trick movie.  All it’s got is an invisible man moving things around (and the innards of an invisible guinea pig), but it works a little better here since it never dangles anything else.  The effects aren’t nearly as fancy as Griffin’s empty clothes skipping gaily down the lane in The Invisible Man (made nearly thirty years earlier), but they do their job and I quite like how we briefly see the guinea pig’s skeleton and circulatory system.  It’s too bad they couldn’t do the same thing with Faust, which I’m guessing was because they didn’t have the money to do it in motion when he reappears in the bank robbery scene.

The minimal nature of the effects suggests that this is a film that’s supposed to be carried by its story, which is great!  Unfortunately, the story attempting to carry it is rather confused.  For starters here is, yes, another movie in which there’s nobody to root for!  With the sole exception of Maria Ulof, who never even speaks a line, every single named character in The Amazing Transparent Man is a villain or at the very least an asshole.  The result almost works, though, because they’re assholes working against each other. We have at least a basic idea of what each person wants and how they’re hoping to achieve it, and therefore we understand how and why they’re at odds.

We’ve got Krenner, who is the most explicit bad guy of the movie. He’s bitter about being discharged from the army, so he became a deranged megalomaniac with Nazis in his attic, and he’s going to show them, show them all, with his invisible army (which I have to say is slightly more practical than an army of werewolves or mutant fish-men).  He trusts nobody, and therefore bringing this plan to fruition requires keeping his associates under control, and he has things to hold over each of them. For Faust, it’s the threat of turning him in to claim the reward.  With Julian the gun-toting thug, it’s the promise of someday getting his son back. With Ulof, it’s the life of his daughter.  His Femme Fatale for Hire, Laura Madsen, he simply slaps into submission.  He’s a terrible person on every possible level and we’re glad to see him blown up at the end.

Faust isn’t much better, and one of the most important places where the movie fails is that we know less about Faust’s goals than Krenner’s, even though Faust is the point-of-view character.  Like Krenner, Faust is a bitter criminal.  He cares about nothing but money, to the point where we don’t even know what he plans to do with the money he’s going to steal – he seems to want to rob a bank just because it’s what he does.  We do understand his antagonism towards Krenner, at least: having just escaped from jail, what Faust wants most is of course freedom, while what Krenner is offering him is just a different sort of imprisonment.  Good riddance to Faust, too.

The character this movie wants us to feel sorry for is Ulof, which is really weird when you think about it because this man is a fucking war criminal. He tells us he tortured prisoners in a concentration camp and only came to regret it when he realized one of them was his wife – whom he apparently never recognized even though her only disguise was a hood.  So he doesn’t know her body and build at all?  He never heard her voice?  She never heard his and tried to find another way to communicate with him?  Where did he think his wife was while all this was going on?  I find myself entertaining the horrible thought that the daughter he so adores probably wasn’t conceived in the standard way, since she must have been born only shortly before her mother’s death… ew.

The fourth character who does much in the story is Laura, and I really can’t tell what we’re supposed to think of her.  The way Krenner and Julian treat her make her seem like a victim but there’s no backstory about how she got into this situation. She’s kind of Faust’s love interest but not really, since she mostly seems to be trying to use him to get away from Krenner – and frankly, Faust doesn’t treat her much better than Krenner does.  I get the impression that the movie doesn’t know what to do with her, and she dies at the end mostly to get her out of the way.

So we have these four players plus Julian and they all hate one another.  Laura despises Krenner and kind of wants to run off with Faust but can’t let Krenner find out she’s going to do that.  Faust’s going to squeeze every possible cent out of Krenner and Krenner resents it. Ulof wants to spring his daughter and go hide out in Argentina with old friends, and hopes Faust can help him do it. These various storylines do start to go places, what with Ulof almost tricking Faust into opening the door, and Faust taking Laura to go rob banks. Just as that starts to look like the plot, though, it gets interrupted by Faust’s radiation poisoning and everything comes to a halt.

This isn’t exactly a bad plot turn, but after the movie took the trouble to set up the relationships and conflicts between the various characters, it’s a bit out of left field to realize that the only resolution we’ll get is the isotopes blowing up as Krenner and Faust try to strangle each other.  Faust never even gets a chance to try to deal with his impending mortality before it all goes up in a mushroom cloud.  Kind of convenient that the deserts around the ranch already looked barren and lifeless, isn’t it?

Of course if we’re going to talk about the movie, we have to mention two other pieces of fiction that contributed significantly to the inspiration for it.  One of these, very obviously, is H. G. Wells’ The Invisible Man.  The main character of that story, Griffin, goes mad with power (and toxic chemicals affecting his brain) and declares himself King Invisible Man the First – he fails in part because he’s also Invisible Man the Only, and I suspect that what if he had a whole invisible army though? was part of the inspiration for The Amazing Transparent Man.  It ended up back at only one invisible man because the sweeping horror epic that question inspires was just way too expensive.

The second, equally obviously, is Faust.  There are real people whose last name is Faust, but it’s the sort of name that’s so closely associated with a particular piece of fiction that it never occurs in others except as a reference.  Having the name just there would be like having a character whose last name is Frankenstein and not doing anything with it.  So how does The Amazing Transparent Man draw on Faust?

Faust is the sordid tale of a medieval scholar who sold his soul to the devil in exchange for unlimited knowledge, magical powers, and of course, sweet, sweet pussy.  Goethe ends his play with Faust’s redemption, but the legend he drew on told how Faust’s hubris damned not only himself but everybody around him.  The obvious reading of The Amazing Transparent Man is that Krenner is Mephistopheles and Faust is… well, Faust. Actually, I don’t think the references is quite that simplistic.  Instead, I would argue that all four of the major characters here are Faust.  They have all sold their souls, and in the end the devil claims them… except the Nazi scientist, even Satan didn’t want him.

Krenner wants power and revenge and doesn't care what he has to do in order to achieve that – people are nothing but tools to him, and his plan actually relies on killing some to keep the rest of his future subjects in line.  He has taken leave of all humanity.  Faust wanted money, and had to sacrifice his own soul, in the form of his relationships with his wife and child, in order to get it – and he learned nothing.  Dr. Ulof wanted knowledge and gained it at the expense of human lives, and now that he seeks to escape his past he finds he cannot. It has followed him across the sea and now, with his identity out, it will follow him to his death.  Exactly what Laura did is a mystery but her attempts to escape and ultimate death follow the same pattern.

All this suggests that like The Beast of Hollow Mountain, The Amazing Transparent Man started off with somebody having a really good idea and thinking about it very thoroughly, but then budgetary constraints reared their ugly collective head and it all went pear-shaped.  The movie that results is bland and confused and never as interesting as it thinks it is, which is a shame.  I kind of want to see the movie they started out with.

[gimmetheheadcanons]

Empty - Day 4 (Gothic Klonnie)

A/N: So here is Day 4 and I’m kinda disappointed with it because it probably deserves to be a proper story and not a short piece hammered out like this and so blah. But anyway, I have to post it so post I shall. It is connected to Day 1,2 and 3 so feel free to read those.  

----------

Day 4: Draugagangur :  the walking of ghosts, a haunting.

The Sheila Bennett who sold her soul didn’t think it was worth very much at the time.

Twenty-four years old and dressed like a death wish, she always packed light for her journeys. Shivering under a street light and her feet firmly planted on a sidewalk full of cracks, she thought about the winding road that brought her here.

When remaining a troubled teen well into her twenties was no longer an option, she set out on her own; travelled across all fifty states, searching for the next sinister thing that could seduce her.  

Sheila had always been hungry.

A higher high was out there. All she needed to do was find it. 

Power. Purpose. The things her content parents could never understand.

As a child, they were helpless to stop her and simply stood by as their daughter dabble in darkness. Again and again.

First, it was small stuff. Just being bad enough to distress her dad, bad enough to dull the senses, to combat the daily dreariness of working in that damn family diner.

Then came the late sixties, a decade that demanded a little danger and young Sheila Bennett wanted a lot of it.

Finally, it was love; making a girl so lost and in the end so lonely. 

His sex set her skin alit and for a while, in return, she would follow him down every avenue of sin. After years of ‘pretending’ to be bad, Sheila was finally ready to be so much worse.

She ditched the diner and danced all night. Every night.

Floating high enough to touch ceilings then punching it until her knuckles blooded up and she was forced to come crashing down. 

He’d try to catch her. She never let him.

In the end, her dalliance with the devil and his music just didn’t cut it.

As he lay naked beside her, the magnetic frontman who stole her heart, picking away at what was left of her skin - Sheila became acutely aware of how many more layers his calloused fingers could never truly touch.

The jukebox in her head was done with playing covers.

She was more than a groupie but unwilling to graduate to girlfriend.

Doused in stench of yesterday’s drinks, he dared to ask for the impossible one last time.

“I love you but you need to slow down cher.”

Never, Sheila thought as she obliterated his guitar, grabbed his leather jacket, the last of his stash and split.    

When it was all over she realized she’d outgrown New Orleans too and made plans to leave that very night. 

But Sheila was a clever girl with so much wasted potential. Every seemingly impulsive decision really the result of hours of careful thought. The kind of thought her school teachers thought her incapable of.

The hours he spent recording, Sheila spent doing research. 

Reading up on the symptoms of her illness.

There was something wrong with her - not medically but spiritually.

There was an enormous emptiness she could never seem to fill. Her grandmother, far more intuitive than her parents, had always sensed it and tried to throw scripture and prayers at it.

It tired Sheila because she knew the truth.

Whenever she slowed down she would notice it - the emptiness that used to house something old and powerful.

She looked for untried and wilder ways to break her body because it was just that - a body. A vessel made to host something more than her. Fashioned for a purpose that escaped her her entire life.

Sheila wasn’t going to find the answers on the front benches of a church, the front row of his show or on the bathroom floor of a seedy club.

However, she did think she could find it here on Bourbon Street, in the shop window of Nandi’s Specials and hopefully in the potions of the Magnificent Madame LaMarche.

Sheila wasn’t wrong.

It was waiting for her, in there. 

She dropped her cigarette on the ground and crushed it under her heavy boot. Stamping out its heat and her only excuse to remain outside.

The old witch sat by the fireplace took one look at her, in that oversized stolen jacket and ridiculous hair, and just laughed.  

“What? Is this not a good time?”

“Concern yourself not with goodness child. The things you are searching for will find you when you give yourself to the dark.”

Without hesitation, Sheila accepted the terms the witch laid out before her and together they burned the only thing she felt sentimental enough to bring with her.

The crone didn’t stop there however.

“There is more to give.”

“Then take it all.”  

Sensing the elderly woman waver for a moment made Sheila almost sneer at her.

The stupid hag could have her soul and do with it as she pleased. 

How would a girl like Sheila even notice the missing weight of a soul when she felt so untethered her entire life?

Madame LaMarche’s resolve returned, as did a frown Sheila wasn’t sure she’d seen before. From then onwards, the elderly woman worked in silence and Sheila winced at the thought of the witch having read her mind or something.   

The sudden sight of a long ceremonial dagger appearing out of thin air, put enough sense into the reckless young woman to keep her mind blank and opinions for later.

“Your hands child.”  

The witch pulled her closer and quickly drew blood from the center of each palm. When she finished the holes in her own hands wept.

Preparations complete, Madame LaMarche started her incantation.

“Release. Receive. Release….”

“Receive.” Sheila said without being prompted.

She was ready. The spell cast, connections made and Sheila Bennett’s empty husk found its purpose again.

It ended pretty fast - the human girl gone and a vessel fashioned in her place.

“When will I feel again?”

Careful to suppress her usual mocking laugh this time, Madame LaMarche shook her head.

“Oh my child! But you have! And always far too much too.”

Sheila left the shop without saying goodbye.

It was a clumsily phrased question and a ridiculous answer when all she just meant was her hands. Drained, damaged and with long crevices running towards the center, they felt alien against her face.

Cracks on the sidewalk, now cracks on her hands.

My poor mother.

Sheila couldn’t help cackle at the thought of her wickedness, the repercussions. 

It would be worth it. She could feel their presence already.

Spirits, thousands of them flocking to her now and wherever she went next, she would always have company during the cold.

Beings lost as she was, lonely and longing to rise.

Rise…rise...rise…

And never again fall.  

Her body would house them.

Sad souls, angry souls, any that sought her out really.

She would set off now, to build a home for them - a place where they could be together.

Time and this new purpose in life tamed Sheila Bennett enough to find success in the boring way her parents had always hoped for. 

Their wayward daughter transformed into a celebrated writer. 

The souls came with stories and Sheila happened to put some of them down on paper. Who knew there was such a market for pain.

Now she had more followers, living ones and some other luxuries too.

A rising star.    

He walked into her life right before the money and right before the cynicism of celebrity kicked in. 

But she could trust his intentions. He was more angel than devil; a tasty slice of something she never thought to try before. God, how he reminded her of the diner she fled from. Of the pies in the oven she prayed would explode and blow them all to Hades.  

Starved for human touch, Sheila indulged a little and then a little more, not knowing how sweet things were often far worse for you in the end.

When he left her, Sheila knew it was because of the spirits.

The home she built for many hadn’t enough room for one.

Haunted and afraid by the unnatural things he saw and the secrets she expected him to keep - her love fled just as she had so long ago.     

It was the ghost of a much angrier woman who then flung trash bags filled with clothes out of a balcony. Enraged, she cursed her modest angel for not having more things she could smash or burn.

Exhausted but not quite alone (she never was), she thought back to Madame LaMarche’s words.

Goodness was something she didn’t have to concern herself with; and so Sheila was more than a little surprised when it turned out that it was growing inside of her.

They were all wrong. Him because there was room and her because the emptiness could be filled with something pure and perfect without a price. Something she’d water and feed and love until it bloomed and bore more of its perfect self.

A daughter.  A granddaughter.  

Just like she had been, a lifetime ago.

And whilst she disappointed every person who dared to love her and grew bored with every role she ever played, her good little girls could never do the same.

They filled her life, they found their own and she fell back on old habits, destined to let them down. 

Especially Bonnie, the beautiful baby girl born on a day as bright as the sparks in her mesmerizing eyes. Sheila should have kept her away the most. But the dreams began weeks before Abby even told anyone she was pregnant.  

A man called from beyond the veil. He didn’t need home like the others,  in fact he already had one large enough for all of them. That was when Sheila realized, the pleas for help this time were in fact an invitation to help her.

In all her joy as a mother she had forgotten the sad truth of motherhood.  

Abby had her own life. The baby would one day too. 

Sheila needed to keep the connection with the spirits strong, keep serving them, keep the emptiness at bay. 

So she didn’t stop to ask any of the right questions. Age made her complacent and her old teachers all of a sudden were vindicated. The crone LaMarche, long dead now, mocked her too.  

Still, she set out on a new mission. An expensive and long one where her growing wealth turned out to be very handy.

Each night, in her dreams, she’d discover a new detail about the alluring man and his divine promise of a grand home; and each day, she’d put it to paper, slowly carving out a map to take her and her family there.

Twenty states later, Sheila found it.

The house surrounded by a near perfect ring of white oak trees.

Sheila was about to step over the threshold and into her new home when she was met by one of the movers on his way out.

He took one look at her, a grandmother in oversized leather jacket, and laughed. 

“Well, good luck to yah lady. This place you just bought? Fuck me, does it look haunted! Cursed, I’m tellin’ you.”

“Cursed.”

[themusicenthusiast]

Saturday, December 8th, 2018 – Myles Kennedy and Co. Treat Fans to an Expansive Set as the Year of the Tiger Tour Rolls Through Dallas

Photos by Jordan Buford Photography 2018 has been a banner year for Myles Kennedy, who has continued to build upon the illustrious career he has had by getting back in touch with his roots. Best known as the lead vocalist of Alter Bridge and his collaborations with Slash in the form of Slash feat. Myles Kennedy and The Conspirators as well as some other projects Kennedy has positioned himself as arguably one of the most respected vocalists currently in the business. However, solo artist had never really officially been added to that juggling act – despite a planned album a few years ago that was ultimately shelved. It wasn’t until earlier in the year with the release of Year of the Tiger that Kennedy finally made his foray into that territory, an undertaking that was highly praised by fans and critics alike. His tour earlier in the year was a largely sold-out endeavor, loyal fans proving how much they enjoyed Kennedy and his works as they attended concerts that saw him performing his most intimate collection of songs to date in a bare-bones fashion, just he and  a guitar. For a while it seemed as if that might be the only run supporting the album, at least until the announcement of another round of the Year of the Tiger Tour, this one performed by Myles Kennedy and Co. Enlisting the help of a couple musicians (including percussionist Zia Uddin, an old band mate from The Mayfield Four era), Kennedy planned to amp things up significantly from his previous tour, providing everyone with a different experience from what they had previously gotten; and the fact that this outing was taking place in more sizable venues meant everyone who wanted the opportunity to see it would have the chance. The Dallas show on this Saturday night was taking place at Canton Hall, a mid-size venue that boasts around a thousand person capacity and was pretty full even before the lone opening act, Walking Papers, took the stage. The Seattle-based outfit made quite the impression on the spectators, their blues inspired brand of rock ‘n’ roll piquing everyone’s interest and they left having won over plenty of new fans in North Texas. There was no doubt about who everyone was there for, though. Many concertgoers sported Alter Bridge shirts, some even already having picked up a Year of the Tiger tour shirt, and all were anxiously waiting for the time that Kennedy and company would take the stage. By the time that happened the place was roughly three-quarters of the way full. The setup was a unique one for Kennedy, a stand with the sheet music placed directly to the left of the center microphone highlighting how out of his element these shows put him. It was used only for reference and even that appeared to be just occasionally, though it was clear many of these songs weren’t second nature to him like those of his longer running projects. Flanked by a bass player and Uddin, the trio hit the stage at 9:16 and promptly set to work on the 80-minute long set that they had planned.

The power trio made quick work of the first handful of songs, the format being more in line with what’s heard on Year of the Tiger, yet they still sounded different in a way. What Kennedy and everyone else accomplished in the studio with that is a remarkable blend of singer-songwriter and rock ‘n’ roll, with a host of other influences seeping in to the tracks as well. Something that is rather bare-bones but still packs a punch. Live, they were supercharged as the delicate nature and in-your-face approach collided with one another, yielding something that was heartfelt and sentimental but also energetic and commanding. “Devil on the Wall” demonstrated that well as it kicked things off. One of the most candid tracks on the album, it at first fit with the searching that it depicts (perhaps best summed up by the final line of the first verse, “…If there is a God, why did he take my father’s soul?”) before exploding into a massive rock number that affirmed that they meant business. Kennedy was as masterful as ever as he launched into the sizzling solo, earning some excited cheers as fans got a solid idea of the wide-ranging set that they were in for.

“Ghost of Shangri La” further proved that, specifically due to the intro it was given, Kennedy reaching for a slide before initiating it. By doing so Kennedy was able to showcase a side of his that’s seldom seen, his prowess as a guitarist growing even more impressive; and what resulted was undeniably country thanks to the twangy sound, yet it was also fused with a compelling mix of blues and soul, subtle as it may have been. It was absolutely gorgeous, that blend sounding more prominent than how it comes across on the recording, adding a new layer of depth to the highly emotional track. Afterwards, the more laid-back demeanor of this set became apparent. Don’t misinterpret that, the trio gave it their all, constantly, however, Kennedy did engage and banter with the onlookers more than is usually seen with his other projects, seeming to relish the more intimate setting. “Give it up…” he began, getting no further before fanfare filled Canton Hall. “Not yet,” he said with smile and chuckling at the strong reaction. It was Walking Papers he was asking everyone to make some noise for; and he chatted a little more with everyone as his band mates disappeared from sight.

Anything that was a cover from his other projects was done solo and acoustic; Kennedy treating the fans to a rendition of Slash feat. Myles Kennedy & The Conspirators’ “Standing in the Sun”. His stripped-down, more tender rendition placed the emphasis squarely on the lyrics, presenting the song in a new light. One of the best songs of the night was “Haunted by Design”. It received a total makeover from what is found on Year of the Tiger, the twangy tones ever present, though it was electrified considerably. “Come on,” Kennedy requested as they hit the bridge, proceeding to clap his hands, successfully getting the bulk of the crowd to join along. It was in the final minutes that the three of them let loose, the track concluding with a soaring guitar solo that was nothing short of epic. “How you guys holding up?! Is everybody good?!” Kennedy asked afterwards as he checked in on everyone, genuinely hoping everyone was enjoying what they were hearing. The cheers that answered his question clearly expressed they were.

Another special moment came when Uddin left his kit, but settled in at the forefront of the stage with a smaller percussive instrument in hand. The drummer remarked how awesome that Deep Ellum was, saying he loved that area of Dallas. That affinity quickly shifted to his band mates, whom he said surprised him by flying his son in from Argentina so he could spend some time with him and see the show. “We go way back. Decades; when dinosaurs roamed,” Kennedy quipped, mentioning The Mayfield Four. The pair briefly revisited those days with a more restrained version of “Eden (Turn the Page)”. For the audience it was just fun to hear something from Kennedy’s past, while he and Uddin reveled in that fleeting nostalgia, savoring those few minutes where it was just them reconnecting with something they had created together. That was the first in a string of covers, which included the lone song of the night that Kennedy had no hand in writing. Iron Maiden’s “The Trooper” brought things back up several notches, the three-piece outfit pulling off that classic heavy metal sound quite well before things were toned back down for some Alter Bridge.

“Watch Over You” was almost expected. At the very least the balled-esque number fit with this format, and it allowed for a quintessential concert moment when Kennedy turned the final chorus over to the audience. “And who is gonna save you when I'm gone? And who'll watch over you when I'm gone?” Their collective voice was loud enough that it was audible; that entire piece being gorgeous beyond words. However, what was really unexpected was the inclusion of “Addicted to Pain”. That former song definitely translates into an acoustic setting. But “Addicted to Pain”, one of the most ferocious tracks in Alter Bridge’s arsenal, not so much. Yet there stood Kennedy performing the song all by himself, portraying another song in a different light as he adjusted the tempo accordingly, and it was stunning. Much of what was left drew from Year of the Tiger – the album being played nearly in its entirety. That included a rousing rendition of “Turning Stones”, which ended by conveying an overwhelmingly triumphant feeling; while the catchy title track of the record ultimately wrapped up the performance. As they hit the interlude Kennedy strolled up towards the edge of the stage, taking it all in as he surveyed the audience, extending one last thank you once it was all said and done and even throwing out a couple of picks to some people. The musicians weren’t gone but a minute or two before returning, answering the chant for an encore that had begun to build.

The most emotionally powerful songs of the night had been saved for last, “Mother” being a blistering number, the passion it exuded meant to portray that the matriarch of a family embodies and the selfless actions they often take. The 10-minute long encore then finished with the longest song from Year of the Tiger, “Love Can Only Heal” offering an inspiring message to patrons. The title says it all, the song practically imploring anyone who might need to hear it to not shut others out, that love is imperative; Kennedy putting every fiber of his being into that one, the sentiment resonating strongly with him and he was more impassioned than he had been all night as they finished what had been a spectacular night. Any fan of Myles Kennedy needs to see one of these shows. In some respects, it took the acclaimed singer and guitarist out of his element. The songs he penned for Year of the Tiger are his most diverse yet, and that was best appreciated in the live environment, where the intricacies are most noticeable. Sure, many of the songs do still possess that rock flare that is frequently associated with Kennedy; and his signature belting – which constantly sounds epic – is a hallmark of these tracks as well, but beyond that there’s so much more depth to them. He approached this solo venture the right way, choosing to explore a new path, his artistry benefitting from the unique material he crafted, standing out from his other projects.

Sonically, the music is utterly compelling, every single track providing something different. The twangy sounding songs may sound out of character but they’re not out of place, instead allowing Kennedy to break out of the mold most see him in and showcase the versatility he’s capable of. That was thoroughly on display this night as he and his band mates tweaked some of this original material, fleshing it out so that it worked even better for the live setting, or the different reinterpretations that Kennedy had prepared for some of the more well-known songs from his career. In the end all of that worked to make him even more impressive, the patrons seeming to be more enamored with Kennedy than they were when they stepped in to Canton Hall this night. Indeed, everyone stuck around until the end, remaining steadfast even as Myles Kennedy and Co. took a gracious final bow, wild cheering and applause letting them know how they had done and ushering the musicians off the stage. It was something special. Something that got more to the core of who Kennedy is as a person; and along with that insight was a legitimate, enthralling show. This leg of the Year of the Tiger tour is nearly over, with dates in Helena, MT, Spokane, WA and Seattle WA on December 13th, 14th and 16th, respectively, being all that’s left. More info on those events can be found HERE. Make a point to see one if you’re in the area, as you’ll be glad you did. And for anyone who doesn’t yet have Year of the Tiger, preview or purchase it in iTUNES or GOOGLE PLAY. Set List: Full Band 1) “Devil on the Wall” 2) “The Great Beyond” 3) “Ghost of Shangri La” Solo 4) “Standing in the Sun” (Slash feat. Myles Kennedy & The Conspirators cover) Full Band 5) “Blind Faith” 6) “Haunted by Design” 7) “Nothing but a Name” Duo 8) “Eden (Turn the Page)” (The Mayfield Four cover) Full Band 9) “The Trooper” (Iron Maiden cover) Solo 10) “Watch Over You” (Alter Bridge cover) 11) “Addicted To Pain” (Alter Bridge cover) Full Band 12) “Turning Stones” Solo 13) “World On Fire” Slash feat. Myles Kennedy & The Conspirators cover) Full Band 14) “One Fine Day” 15) “Year of the Tiger” Encore 16) “Mother” 17) “Love Can Only Heal”

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, BECKY! You’ve been accepted for the role of GONERIL with an approved FC change to URSULA CORBERO. Admin Jen: Truly, Becky, you have left us speechless with this wonderful application! Your take on Grace was a bit unusual, and certainly not what I was expecting as I had established her in my mind as very cold and clinical. But the way you integrated emotions into her portrayal was brilliant -- it gave her a touch of volatility and extremism that accentuated the terror that Grace embodies so perfectly. I loved your future plots especially the evil scheme that you elaborated on and your writing sample left me trembling in both fear and admiration; everything just came together so intricately! I can’t wait to watch as she burns Verona to the ground! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Becky

Age | 22

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I’ve sold my soul to you now, I can’t ever leave

Timezone | Ok so I wrote BST on Odessa’s app but the rest of the UK gang put GMT (time is a social construct and I’m actually a cosmic entity floating around the globe giving u all forehead kisses)

Current/Past RP Accounts | x  x

In Character

Ok so I know you didn’t exactly accept her as an FC for Grace but I’m hoping you warm to edgy-looking neo-noir Úrsula Corberó once you’ve read the app. I admit that my idea of Grace may not be quite what you’re looking for but I wanted to give applying for her a shot because I love me Hot Mess of a character! (but I am also happy to come up with alternatives if not)

Is evil something you are?      Or is it something you do?

Character | Grace ‘Goneril’ Daly

What drew you to this character? | So like any good prophecy/vision/intervention of fate, I woke up one morning with a mighty need to play a character who is Odessa’s opposite, the black fur coat leather skirt cigarette ash psycho babe to my honey sweet lace and silk angel of retribution, so I’ve sort of been slyly waiting for Grace’s bio to be released.

It’s her contrast to Odessa that initially drew me in with the chance to explore another character whose existence and presence in Verona revolves around her father’s ties to a mob, but resulting in a drastically alternate result. It will be very different playing a character who doesn’t particularly have a motive for killing (beyond self-preservation and power-lust) and is loyal to only herself.

Whilst I would usually play a character like Grace as being a cold-hearted, emotionless ice queen, I feel as though Grace is better suited to burning. She is a slave to her emotions, the rise and fall of them dictating her mood, all while highly strung and fuelled by a chaotic form of energy. You can very much tell when she is happy and when she is not. She’ll cry in front of you just as gladly as she’ll laugh and kiss you. She’s unkind, ruthless, impulsive, emotional, and she’s ready to antagonise people to her tar-black heart’s content.

Character inspo: Azula from Avatar, Jennifer Check from Jennifer’s Body, Bellatrix Lestrange from Harry Potter, War from Good Omens. Trope inspo Alpha Bitch, Ambiguous Disorder, Blatant Lies, Daddy’s Little Villain, Go-Getter Girl, Hair-Trigger Temper, Improbable Weapon User, Jerkass, Sadist, Spoiled Brat, Virtue is Weakness.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i.                    A masterplan;

Step One: Grow to become an important part of the mob you were all but born into. Turn yourself into the perfect player, capable with weapons and unblinking in the face of danger. Step Two: Leave them. Join their rivals. Prove yourself to them by dispatching of a few former associates, low hanging fruit. Become just as relevant within their ranks. Step Three: Collate what you have learnt about the two mobs. Their strengths, their weaknesses. Make a few friends with similar goals to yourself. Corrupt them. Step Four: Start your own mob. You now know your enemies intimately. You know what it takes to break them. Bit by bit, steal Verona out from under their noses. Laugh at their mistakes and dance in the ashes of their burning empires as you build your own. Step Five: Be remembered forever.

ii.                   The double agent;

Traitor. Grace wears the title with pride, her smile sharp when she comes face to face with both Capulets and Montagues alike. Slinking from one mob to the other was a seemingly effortless transition, welcomed by none other than Damiano himself. She fed him information about Cosimo and his crew, spilling secrets around the end of her lipstick-stained cigarette. It was an easy way in, but now that she’s settled amongst her new comrades she finds herself looking back across the bridge with interest. Power is power but information is advantageous – Grace isn’t above feeding Montague-whispers back to her old associates, not if it means she wins friends on both sides of Verona. That way, it’s impossible for her not to win this war.

iii.                  Sisters, sisters

Regina and Catherine. Both are equally as disgraceful to the Daly name – one can’t even bring herself to be enthusiastic about the opportunities that lie, shiny and golden, before them, and the other flutters her lashes and talks of peace, of all things. Grace has never paid them much attention, but now that she’s sided with the Montagues she’s realised that the Capulets could do with having their numbers thinned. Whether she’ll try to convince them to switch sides with her for the Montague brownie-points or simply wipe her sister off of the face of the earth forever remains to be seen, but if Regina and Catherine think they can keep their heads down and get away with making the Dalys seem anything less than destined for greatness, they’ve got one hell of a storm coming.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I sure am, same goes for Odessa now, it’s time to make like Grace and embrace reckless abandon

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

She is the thing watching you from the edge of the road, where long grass shivers with the motion of something far more alive than it has any right to be; a pair of eyes that glint in the final rays of the sunlight’s reaches, bleached white enamel teeth ready to sink themselves into those who mistake the night’s cloak as a thing to hide under rather than be consumed by.

She is fresh fruit in the heat, a slow rotting taking place at the centre disguised by mouth-watering scents and a flesh that glistens under the sheen of morning dew. Decay is a dance, slow and tantalising, the heart turning to a sticky dark mess that slides through the fingers of anyone who dares to try and save it.

She is a doctor who has never been able to stop her hands from shaking at the prospect of a new body, eager to pick up the scalpel and press it down into soft flesh, revealing a mass of life clinging to the bones. Her favourite colour is red, the sort that looks black in the evening, droplets turning to pools that spread through pressed shirts and silk pyjamas like tears on pillows. There’s blood on her hands, not always metaphorical. She licks it off, rarely quite satisfied.

Grace fucks like the meeting of hips will reveal the monster that lies beneath her, as though touching there and there and there will unlock ribcages and unleash what’s trapped inside of hearts. But to understand why, you must crawl inside her skull and make sense of what lurks there beneath the smoke of burning houses and vultures picking at once-satisfied things–

“Please take a seat,” Damiano says, and Grace lingers before lowering herself onto the chair, her gaze gliding over the mahogany desk between them before raising to study the man himself.

He smells like her father. That’s the first thing she notices, the faint cologne. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and the signet ring on his finger keeps catching on things, releasing a dull metallic sound each time. His presence is more regal than Cosimo’s and yet she finds herself thinking the exact same thing – you aren’t worthy.

These men had all inherited their empires, passed down like heirlooms, and as a result they had become lazy. Content. Uninspiring.

“I’m very happy to be here,” she chimes pleasantly. “However… unexpected it may be.” She doesn’t tell him how much she wants this. Doesn’t explain that being welcomed into the inner sanctum of the Montagues is as pleasing as a night of post-murder hot sex. “I’ve always been a huge fan of your work.”

Damiano doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t need to. Grace is well aware that she wouldn’t have gotten this far if he didn’t intend to offer her something. “I have a proposition.”

I bet you do, she thinks, her well-orchestrated plan playing out like the sweetest of songs. Black-nail-polished fingers press to her chest, feigning surprise. “For me? Damiano, you’re spoiling me.” The words curl up from her lips like tendrils of cigarette smoke. She punctuates them with a light laugh.

The deal is a simple one: information for protection. Spill some secrets to join the ranks. Grace does so without blinking, switching silver for gold, and slowly the pieces begin to fall into place. As with any self-proclaimed god, she grazes her knees on carpet to say thanks to Damiano, sacrifices those she’s left behind, and fills her head with only the loveliest visions of tearing his and Cosimo’s empires to the ground.

Extras:

Pinterest board

Time for more of ‘Becky attempts to write headcanons’:

Her parent’s little angel turned little devil. Spoilt from a young age, she soon learnt that she could get away with near enough anything provided she smiled sweetly to her parents and told them just how much she loved them. When her sisters were born, the attention that had been on her drifted and Grace found that she had to work harder and harder to hear her name on her parent’s lips.

Grace grew up restless. Her ambitions would flit like moths around a lightbulb, becoming half-planned dreams and broken things. It wasn’t until she was rushed to hospital following a road traffic accident* (which resulted in the removal of a kidney) that she decided to train to become a paramedic. *Her parents later suggested that it was no accident and had in fact been planned by the Montagues,

As a paramedic, she always manages to be first on the scene when an incident linked to the mobs is called in. Strategically, if someone fails to complete a murder she can finish the job herself, or silence any witnesses. Similarly, it also gives her the opportunity to plant fake evidence or remove weapons from the scene. For those evading the eyes of the authorities, she can also help those who have been hurt and can’t risk a trip to the hospital.

She is resourceful and will use whatever is to hand as a weapon. Has been known to dish out the odd black eye, broken nose, crushed windpipe, and acrylic nail scratches. Her father himself trained her to use a pistol and rifle under the guise that he was teaching her to hunt (which, technically, wasn’t a lie – they just never specified the quarry).

She lives by 3 important rules. One: trust only those you would die for. Two: protect what is yours. Three: if something is boring or unimportant, do not waste time on it.

Grace needs to be needed and wants to be wanted. She can’t stand shrinking into shadows and being forgotten. No, she must remain the life of the party and attract the attention (be it good or bad) of everyone.

She was once arrested and fined for drunk and disorderly behaviour on whilst on holiday in England. She slept it off in a cell and was released the next morning with a hefty fine.

She is a big fan of piercings and has a stick n poke shark on her ribs.

Inspo quotes:

“I’m a slave to my emotions, to my likes, to my hatred of boredom, to most of my desires.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise.

“Her mood is cruel, her nature dangerous. Her will fierce and intractable” – Euripides (translated by Philip Vellacott), Medea

“But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.” – Junot Diaz, The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao

[seventeen-scenarios-blog]

To Admin Hoshit: Santa’s Helper (G)

Pairing: Admin Hoshit x Soonyoung Request: “tbh write anything as long as it ends well and no one dies” + “longish fic?? if possible???” Word Count: 2,843 Genre: Crack Warnings: Don’t do drugs, kids

A/N: Lmao I had a lot of fun writing this for you. Sorry it took so long. But Merry Christmas Hoshit, hope you enjoy this piece of nonsense lolololol I think it’s pretty obvious who I am at this point tbh, but have fun guessing, lovelies!

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this anymore… I’m leaving you.”

“W-what? But we were doing fine all along! Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling it anymore, okay? Look, it was really fun and exciting when we first started out, but right now, the feeling’s fizzed out. I’m hella tired of this. We have to go our separate ways from now on.”

“You can’t just leave me alone after all that we’ve been through together! There’s still so much we’ve not done!” You stand up, rage filling every vein of your body. “NAKAMOTO YUTA, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”

“THIS IS SO NOT WORTH SIX DOLLARS AN HOUR!” The man snaps his head around towards you. He slams the roll of tape down on the table, throwing his hands towards the pile of neatly gift-wrapped boxes. “I’ve been at it for ages now, and I’m already considered a saint for staying back a whole hour past my shift to help you! Let me go home to rest, damn it!”

“We’ve agreed to sign up for this winter job together!” you yell back, “You can’t ditch me now!”

“You’re the dumb one who signed your entire life away to this job so that you can buy your dumb merchandise,” Yuta remarks snarkily, ignoring the offended scoff you send his way. “Anyway, I’m out. Girl, I love you, but there’s only so much gift-wrapping I can handle before I turn completely insane.”

“The moment you walk out of this gingerbread house, you’re dead to me, Nakamoto.”

“Been dead since Day 1, babe.” And Yuta leaves with a sassy final wave goodbye, whipping off his reindeer headband and tossing it into the bin. “Have fun dealing with the kids.”

You let out a resigned puff of air to blow your bangs out of your face. Your only friend on this job is gone, and now you have to spend the rest of your 10 hour shift with either a total stranger or… that guy.

You stand up, stumbling a little after being seated on a god-forsaken kiddy stool, and made your way towards the record sheet containing the names of the part-timers pinned on the wall. The way your name occupied a large area of the excel sheet made you wince.

It had sounded so easy on the advertising site: wear a silly costume, give out complimentary gifts to children that attend the Santa Meet-&-Greet event at the mall. You sold your soul to the devil without thinking twice. But no, this job has taken a significant chunk of your sanity. Between the Meet-&-Greet intervals, you had to wrap an endless pile of gifts for the endless number of children. On more than one occasion, you had to stay behind to hit your quota, returning home when it’s almost midnight.

But then again, with the exorbitant amount of albums and merchandise of your favourite band you have yet to get your hands on, overtime pay is good.

Your name was under the ‘Santa’s Helpers’ list; every ‘Santa’s Helper’ would be paired up with a ‘Reindeer’ for each shift. You had thought it was a lot less embarrassing walking around in public in an elf’s costume compared to a reindeer’s -- you thought wrong. It’s tight, it’s itchy, the ringing of the silver bell adorning the tip of your hat had annoyed you two hours into your first day you snipped it off without hesitation. All the “reindeers” had to do is wear a damn onesie with cute reindeer horn headbands to match.

Anyway.

Your eyes scan through the ‘Reindeer’ list for the partner you’d be tied down to for the rest of the day. Yuta’s name is aligned with yours up till 5PM, and the person underneath Yuta is… Kwon S-- Jesus Christ.

You tilt your head back with a sardonic, almost maniacal grin. Your day is just going splendidly, isn’t it?

“The kids will be coming in 10 minutes, please be on standby…” the manager’s voice trails off as she only registers one other presence in the gingerbread house. “Where’s the reindeer?”

“HERE!”

A breathless wheeze, followed by a series of thundering footsteps cause the both of you to jump as Devil’s Spawn himself bursts through the fragile styrofoam doors. “Sorry, there was a line at the washroom, I couldn’t change until just about a minute ago…”

Both you and your manager scanned the boy’s bedraggled appearance simultaneously: his purple hair was frizzled and stuck out in all directions imaginable, his cheeks are shining with a sheen of perspiration, and apparently he hadn’t learnt how to button his clothes properly as a child.

Your manager tuts and waves him away, “Elf, you have 10 minutes to make this reindeer remotely presentable to the public. I have other matters to attend to.” With that, she whisks herself out of sight.

Soonyoung tilts his head, confused, until he lays his eyes on you. Then, his already small eyes narrow into hostile slits. “Oh, hello brat.”

“Tool,” you retort cooly, stepping up to fix Soonyoung’s mismatched buttons. “I thought you’re supposed to be a reindeer, not the grandma that got run over by one.”

“Hohoho, you’re hilarious,” he drawls mockingly in a high tone, slapping your hands away. “I can fix those buttons myself, thanks. And pass me one of the headbands from the bin, I left mine at home.” Rolling your eyes in disbelief, you proceed to fish out Yuta’s abandoned reindeer headband and throw it to the male.

“It’s Yuta’s, so I’m not sure it’ll go over that fat head of yours. I reckon you give it a try.”

“Meanie,” he mutters, grabbing it and fastening it over his head.

“Album wrecker.”

“Salty brat!”

“Son of a--”

“Mommy, look! A reindeer and a gremlin!” You both instantaneously abandon your banter to slap grins on your faces as a chubby kid waddles into the gingerbread house. Looks like your evening shift started early. Soonyoung bursts into a fit of laughter at the boy’s words. You curl your hands into fists in chagrin, forcing yourself to maintain the smile.

“The last time I checked, reindeers. Can’t. Laugh.” You discreetly but painfully jab him in the ribs before approaching the child, ignoring the pained yelp he lets out in response. “You’re done meeting Santa, kid? I’m one of Santa’s elves and I live here in this gingerbread house! Can I interest you in a free toy from under the tree?”

Against all odds, you manage to upkeep your professionalism throughout your shift, though you can’t help but let out a crotchety remark or two.

“Don’t go too close to that reindeer over there,” you’d say, one hand cupping your mouth while the other made pointed gestures over to Soonyoung, “I heard it eats children for breakfast.” Looking back, you wished you reserved that comment for someone more impressionable. The bespectacled twelve-year-old had stared back at you with an eyebrow raised, completely unimpressed.

Completely spent, you abandon your uncomfortable post on the kiddy stool to crashland on the carpeted floor with a satisfied groan. That’s 11 out of 12 days of Christmas down. Only one more day in this stinking job and you’re free for the rest of the holidays.

“God…” Soonyoung sighs, shedding off his thick reindeer onesie to reveal a white tank top that has been turned translucent with his sweat. “If I had to sing Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer one more damn time, I would have ran myself over with a sleigh.”

Normally this would result in a comment about him being weak from you, but this time, you are distracted by how his muscles stand out from under the thin material of his clothes. As insufferable as this guy can be, he sure does know how to have a good body-- wait, snap out of it, damn it!

“Oh, good! You are still here!” a sing-song voice cuts through your unholy thoughts as your manager enters the gingerbread house with paper bags lined with grease. “I got the both of you dinner. It’s a job well done today as usual!”

Both you and Soonyoung exchange suspicious glances. Free food and a chirpy attitude to boot? Those are two things you’d never associate with your boss.

“What do you want us to do?” Thankfully, Soonyoung lacked the tact and asked the question you were afraid of. At once, your manager drops her cheery facade with a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid I’ll have to buy a couple more hours of your time… See, an orphanage just called in to say that they will be dropping their kids down tomorrow at 8AM to visit Santa so that’s a hundred children’s worth of gifts to wrap and prepare by then…”

“A HUNDRED?!”

“But you don’t mind, do you?” She blinks sweetly at your direction. “I know this is last minute, but I’m sure the overtime pay will be enough to cover the costs of your guinea pig’s operation, right? That’s what you mentioned during our job interview?”

Behind you, Soonyoung can barely retain his snort of disbelief. “Guinea pig, huh? Is that what they call K-pop albums nowadays?” he guffaws just loud enough for you to hear, and you reward him with a merciless stomp on his big toe while never letting go of that faux angelic smile of yours.

“Sure, ma'am… But uh, my overtime pay will still be one-and-a-half times that of my average, right?”

“But of course! And you’ll have Reindeer over here to help you, so I’m sure you’d be done in no time!”

“I’ll be what now?” Soonyoung gapes dumbly.

“Great, I knew that I can count on you two! See you tomorrow~!” she merrily waves in farewell, making way for two toy store clerks lugging sacks-full of toys. The thin material of the sack rips, and a mountain of toys barrel out, leaving you and Soonyoung stunned.

But in retrospect, the sack is still holding on better compared to your little tether of sanity.

Soonyoung exasperatedly rubs his nape, carefully dragging the sack towards your work table. “Well, let’s just get this over and done with.”

He reaches over to the roll of wrapping paper, but stops short with a jump when you slam your hands atop of his. “Nuh-uh, there’s absolutely no way I’m trusting you with these.”

“What? Why not?”

“You’re going to ruin them with your sub-par fine motor skills and subsequently crush the dreams of a hundred little kids.” You let out a feral hiss, scrabbling at the wrapping papers, scissors and tape towards your bosom protectively. Soonyoung looks beyond peeved.

“I will not!” he cries. “My fine motor skills are, as they call it, FINE!”

He hazards an attempt to slide a pair of scissors out from under your arm, but you lunge out, snapping your teeth at his fingers and he withdraws, visibly intimidated. “What’s wrong with you, woman?” he yelps, obviously offended.

“YOU STEPPED ON MY ALBUM AND TORE IT WITH YOUR STINKING FEET FIRST DAY ON THE FIRST DAY WE MET, AND TRIED FIXING IT WITH POORLY CUT DUCT TAPE. THAT’S WHAT’S WRONG!” you screech. “HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE ALL CHUMMY WITH YOU AFTER THAT?! HOW DO PEOPLE TRUST YOU TO GO OUTSIDE UNSUPERVISED, YOU MONSTER?!”

“Look, that was just that one time!” he cries in defense, ignoring a woman’s concerned glance into the gingerbread house. “And don’t you have like, twenty of the same damn album? If I’d known you’d still be this hung up about it after 2 months I could have just bought you a new one!”

“How dare you, every single one of my albums are unique and precious and--” your eyes snap wide open when you register his previous words. “Did you say you’d buy me a new album?”

To your surprise and delight, Soonyoung shrugs. “I mean why not, these things can’t be that expensive, right?”

You beg to differ, but then you consider the fact that Soonyoung (lord knows how) is a lot more well off than you are as a freelance dancer. You abandon the lingering doubt to slap on what you hope is a face of a pleading puppy dog at the purple-haired male.

He audibly blanches. “Alright, let’s get to work now, can we? Good thing there isn’t anything in my stomach to hurl out, yeesh...” He tries once again to snatch the pair of scissors from your possession, but the icy glare you shoot at him makes his actions falter.

“You’re still hopeless at crafts, by the way,” you inform him, the image of your ruined album, hastily patched together with silver strips of adhesive with dog-eared pages here and there, surfacing in your mind. You can’t help but laugh at that ridiculous scenario. “Duct tape, really?”

“Oh shush, I panicked. At least let me feed you while you wrap, okay?”

You both reached an efficient compromise whereby you handle the wrapping while ever so often opening your mouth such that Soonyoung could slip a french fry between your lips, him munching on his own burger as well.

“Eat!” Soonyoung snaps when you refused the tenth fry. He’s realised by now that you had an awful habit of not eating whenever you’re too absorbed in something. “How are you going to wrap the presents for the kids well on an empty stomach?”

“Who cares about the kids,” you drone, your words coming out as more of a statement than a question.

Letting out a puff of air at his dark violet fringe, Soonyoung tries again. “How are you going to get your paycheck to buy more merchandise if you’re working on an empty stomach?”

“Ah,” you part your jaws and Soonyoung feeds you again with a resigned sigh. “Who knew you’d be this whipped for your favourite artiste?”

“Who didn’t?” you point out, throwing aside the finished toy car with reckless abandon.

“Yuta was complaining the other day that you barely have the time to hang out with him because you’ve chained yourself to this job. And for what, money for more merchandise and concert tickets?”

You hear the incredulity in his voice and you purse your lips. “Look, think whatever you want, but they make me happy. This world sucks and their music is a form of escapism for me. I’ll be willing to work day and night for the boys that make my life just that much brighter. Like it or not, they will pretty much occupy the majority of the space in my heart.”

You both fall silent while you catch your breath from that revelation. From the corner of your eye, you see Soonyoung shifting his eyes nervously. “Then… is there at least space for one more person in your life?”

The scissors in your hand slip and clatter onto the table noisily.

“I mean--” Soonyoung stutters, knowing how his words must have sounded like. “I want to make it up to you, you know. We started off on a bad note because of me, and I’d like it if we can have a do-over. Let’s go out for lunch or dinner sometime after this stinking job ends.”

Surprisingly, that sounded good to you, but there’s no way you’re letting him get the impression that you’re warming up to him this quickly. “Fine, I’ll see if I can squeeze you in.”

“Great!” His eyes, already tiny like the that of a hamster’s, light up like a child’s on a Christmas morning. “We’ll head on out for dinner after our shift tomorrow, then we’ll head on to the shop to get your new album, sounds good?”

Dammit, I like this kid already.

You nod, and you both resume work. At some point, you turned on your Spotify playlist to let Soonyoung get to know the kind of music you’re listening to, and he actually enjoys them. In return, he lets you listen to his favourite bands and musicians.

You even let him try his hand at wrapping a relatively simple box-shaped gift, only to grab it back in utter horror when he sticks the wrapping paper inside out.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going at it, but Soonyoung stiffens in fear when you both hear a resounding metallic click from a few metres away.

“W-was that the mall custodian locking up?” he whimpers, but he turns befuddled when he sees you looking completely nonchalant.

“Yeah, the mall closes at eleven, the doors will open again at seven in the morning.”

At this point, Soonyoung can’t even begin to feel surprise anymore. “How many times have you been locked in here because of work?”

“Eh, thrice counting this.”

“God, you’re hopeless.”

“But this means we’ll be first in line to grab some drinks at Starbucks tomorrow. We can have our date then. You in, kid?”

And Soonyoung actually laughs, whether it is out of amusement or of sheer despair, you can’t really tell.

“Oh geez, what have I gotten myself into…”

[imaginexwwe]

She’s A McMahon 1|2 (SAMI ZAYN FT. KEVIN OWENS)

Anon request for two of my favorite Canadians 😄

________

Kevin persuades Sami that, Reader isn’t good enough for him as she’s related to Shane. Which results to Sami cheating on her: CHEATING/ANGST

________

Warnings: NONE

________

I gave my boyfriend Sami a kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow right?” I asked pulling away.

Sami nodded. “I wouldn’t miss dinner with your parents for anything.”

“Okay.” I replied, flashing one last smile before going to my limo.

________

Kevin walked up behind Sami, doing a slow sarcastic clap. “Well congratulations Sami.” He said patting his long time friend on the back. “You’ve officially sold your soul to the McMahons.”

Sami sighed turning to face Kevin. “What are you talking about, now?”

“That.” Kevin said extending his hand in Y/N’s limo, direction. “She’s leaving in a limo.”

“So?”

Kevin placed both hands on his head, frustrated. “So? Dude she’s a McMahon. McMahons don’t like people like us. She’s playing with your mind Sami.” Kevin protested. Wake up.“

"No, she’s not.” Sami replied, shaking his head. “It’s getting serious. I’m even having dinner with her parents tomorrow night.”

“She’s playing her game. I’m telling you.” Irving gave Sami another pat. “You’re just the puppet on her strings.”

Sami watched as Kevin walked off, then back at Y/N’s limo as it turned a corner.

Could Kevin be right?

He didn’t want to believe it but now that’s it been said, he couldn’t just forget it either.

Is he just a puppet and she’s the puppet master?

Seems ridiculous to even think that but then again, you’ll be ridiculous to put anything past a McMahon.

They’ve been known to go to extremes.

________

“Sami Zayn. I know you’re in there.” I yelled out in the hallway, as my hand collided with the door again. “I swear, if you don’t open thi–”

The door finally swung open, but Sami wasn’t standing on the other side of it.

Instead some brunette with icy blue eyes, stared back at me. But not only that, she was wearing the shirt Sami was wearing last night.

I eyed her from her head to her toes with disgust.

“Who are you?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Who are you?” She questioned mocking me.

I am not about to bow down to this bitch, especially when she’s in my boyfriend’s hotel room.

Instead of answering the question she threw back at me, I pushed her out of my way, and walked into the room.

From behind me, I heard her mumble a quick. “Ow.”

Shouldn’t have been in my way, or my man’s room bitch, I mentally spat at her.

Before I even got to the bed, I could see Sami’s red hair peaking out from under the messy covers.

“Wake up Sami.” I said swatting him with my purse.

He groaned soon after me hitting him, then started to flutter his eyes.

I stood there with the meanest scowl on my face I could muster up.

“Y/N..?” Sami mumbled in his raspy, morning voice.

No it’s the fucking queen of England.

“So this is what you missed my parent’s dinner for? So you could fuck some blue eyed bitch?”

Sami rubbed his eyes as if he didn’t know what I was saying. “Huh..?”

I groaned. “You were supposed to be at my parents at seven o'clock, but instead you have me wondering around a hotel looking like a goddamn fool at two o'clock in the fucking morning.”

I watched as he furrowed his eyebrows, opening his mouth.

“Dude, I swear I will slap every piece of that red hair off you face if you say "huh” again.

He closed his mouth. “Y/N I–”

“Why’d you do it?” I questioned interrupting him.

That’s what I want to hear.

Not whatever mess that was about to come from his mouth.

Sami ran a hand through his messy hair. “Cause you’re you…” He started.

“Of course I’m me Sami, who else am I supposed to be? That bitch there?” I yelled pointing back at the brunette.

“Um.. my name’s Ma–”

I shot a threatening look in her direction. “I didn’t ask for your name.”

“…Y/N, you’re Shane and Stephanie’s cousin. You’re a McMahon. And McMahons don’t like people like me, people like Kevin.”

This is the most stupid shit I’ve ever heard.

And what does Kevin have to do with this?

“So i get cheated on, cause of my last name? And who I’m related to?” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t pick my family members Sami.”

Sami gave off a shrug. “But I can pick my girlfriends, and I don’t want to be with someone who has the last name McMahon.”

I scoffed. “You didn’t have a problem with it last night or the five months we’ve been together.”

“That’s because I didn’t have anyone to open my eyes, until last night. Kevin said–”

Oh, okay.

This is why Kevin’s in the equation.

He’s gone from brainwashing Sami in the ring, so he could do his dirty work for him, to brainwashing him outside of it and fucking with Sami’s personal life.

I nodded with a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t even need to say any more. You’re so stupid for him, I bet if he tells you to jump, your dumb ass will say how high.”

“Jumping will be better than, being someone’s puppet.” Sami spat.

Okay that’s a good one.

I applaud Kevin for coming up with that.

“Oh, Sami. You are someone’s puppet. But it wasn’t mines.” I said turning to walk out.

And once again that brunette was standing in the doorway, but this time she quickly moved so i could leave.

Smart move, I thought.

I left that hotel room and Sami, without taking one glance back.

It’s sad how some people can be easily manipulated and how others feel so comfortable doing it.

But in time Sami will realize the devil takes many shapes and at the moment it’s taken the shape of his so called best friend, Kevin Owens.

Just like Sami was quick to pull Kevin out of the way of my cousin Shane, at Hell In A Cell, and was quick to mess up what we had, Kevin won’t ever do the same for him.

________

@littleprincess1621 @princesstoniii @panic-angel3314 @eshia16

[cielizzydefencesquad]

Understanding Elizabeth Midford

So. I don’t usually involve myself in petty fandom feuds but HOLY. SHIT. This is pissing me off. We’ve gone through 100+ chapters and people STILL don’t understand Lizzy’s character? They manage to rationalize Kuroshitsuji enough that they give Sebastian feelings even though he’s a hungry demon who made a pact with a 10 year old boy because he sensed his soul was broken, desperate, and malleable to more further corruption. They manage to do all this for a DEMON but can’t find it in their hearts to apply that analytical mindset to a darling 14 year old girl whose human emotions drive her every decision?

“She’s selfish! She only wants to make Ciel smile so things can go back to the way they were!”

“She doesn’t understand him! She’s always trying to change him, that bitch!”

“She’s so ANNOYING. Like, her voice!”

“Oh my god, did you see her standing there in the third panel? Like who does that! RUDE.”

So in an attempt to bring some basic level of cognition into these…“arguments” I’m going to go through them one by one and you can disagree if you like. But please refrain from using derogatory terms, unsubstantiated arguments, and referrals to “proofs” that are nothing more than blog posts made from those who wish to paint Kuroshitsuji in terms more favorable to them and whatever else they ship. 

1. “She’s selfish! She only wants to make Ciel smile so things can go back to the way they were!”

Elizabeth Midford is, by far, the LEAST selfish person in the whole damn manga. This girl spent most of her childhood loathing the physical strength she possessed because the person she loved didn’t like it. She chose to shoulder her anguish by HERSELF because she didn’t want to burden Ciel (or her brother or her mother or her father) with her personal worries.

Lizzy is also incredibly aware that things can NEVER go back to the way they were. She expresses this concern to Sebastian when she admits that she wishes Ciel would talk to her more and that the only reason she overdoes her cuteness is because she wants to see Ciel smile. Why are comedians so outlandish and over-the-top? Because they want to see their audience laugh. Lizzy took that mindset and applied it to her goal of cheering Ciel up. Furthermore, the Easter egg chapter proved ONCE AND FOR ALL that Lizzy is perfectly aware of the change that’s occurred within Ciel—that he’s no longer the happy, smiling boy of years past.

Lizzy KNEW Ciel didn’t remember why the egg was nostalgic and if she was really selfish, she would’ve thrown a fit—had a full on temper tantrum then and there but instead, what does she do? She outwits the game master himself. Lizzy sets up an Easter egg hunt that she made up completely off the cuff, wears a happy smile throughout the entire event, and when Ciel hands her the egg what does Lizzy do? She laughs and wishes that the egg would bring CIEL lots of happiness. HOW IS SHE SELFISH? HOW. Selfish would be throwing a tantrum because Ciel didn’t remember the way things used to be. Selfish would be bringing up the past EVERY FRIGGIN SECOND. Selfish would be forcing Ciel to comply to the shared etiquette of their past.

Instead, Lizzy is SELFLESS. Instead of throwing a tantrum, Lizzy wishes Ciel happiness. Instead of bringing up the past, Lizzy tries to ignore it because she knows it makes Ciel uncomfortable—that’s why she’s never asked him about “that month” even though she desperately wants to know what’s happened to the boy she loves. And instead of forcing Ciel to behave the way he used to (sweet, sympathetic, loving), Lizzy is learning to accept him for who he is now—how many times has Ciel ignored her? How many times has Ciel left the country without telling her? How many times has Ciel purposely hidden things from Lizzy and then disregarded her concern with a wave of his hand? Lizzy is learning to accept this new Ciel—this closed off, distant Ciel because she KNOWS something terrible must have happened to him. Because instead of crying and whining like she did at the beginning of Black Butler when Ciel refused to take off his ring, Lizzy has learned to ACCEPT. And that, my dears, is called character development—something Ciel hasn’t undergone since the beginning of this manga.

2. “She doesn’t understand him! She’s always trying to change him, that bitch!”

There is NOTHING about Ciel that Lizzy is trying to change. If anything, it’s Sebastian who’s always prodding and provoking Ciel to become darker—more cruel, less empathetic, and more focused on getting his revenge. She threw a party for Ciel at the beginning of the manga because she thought that might make him smile—fun colors, fine music, seeing Bard and Finny crossdressing…heck, even Ciel took a page from Lizzy’s book when he dressed the F5! It probably took Lizzy HOURS to choose Ciel’s outfit, decorate the mansion, coordinate the whole event and it probably hurt like hell to see Ciel dismiss all her hard work so casually.

As a reader, it’s easy for us to say “HELLO. Doesn’t she know? He was abused and tortured by the cultists! He made a deal with the devil to escape that wretched place, how could this dumb broad think a simple party would cheer him up?!”

And the answer is…Lizzy has NO IDEA what happened to Ciel. (Hindsight is a gift, ain’t it?) She has no idea that he became so desperate to escape the cult that he sold his soul to a starving demon. Lizzy is does not know what Ciel went through and this boy is doing his damnedest to make sure Lizzy never knows. Because he wants to keep her pure, ignorant, and encased in light.

People always point to the party chapter as Lizzy trying to “change” Ciel but all she wanted was to put a smile on his face. She even admits that she overdoes it at times but everything she’s done comes from a good place. Everyone wants to see their loved ones happy and Ciel is the boy Lizzy loves best of all—of course she’s going to try everything under the sun to try and put a little smile on his face.

And Lizzy DOES understand Ciel, to the best of her ability. She’s never once asked Ciel (or Sebastian) about his time in the cult. She uses games to figure out Ciel’s secrets. (Ex: Easter egg hunt—this is where Lizzy knew Ciel was only pretending to remember their Easter tradition and where Lizzy’s suspicions were confirmed—something life changing and drastic DID happen to Ciel during “that month.”) She doesn’t force Ciel to take her to public events because, let’s face it—as the only daughter to a high ranking marquess that serves directly under the queen, Lizzy’s bound to be invited to dozens of soirees a week. And as a gentlewoman of the aristocracy, Lizzy’s going to need an escort. In Victorian times, it was typical that the fiancé escort his bride-to-be but here is Lizzy—sweet, traditional Lizzy—ignoring precedent because she KNOWS Ciel dislikes social events. (Keep in mind, this is information being pieced together by a 14 year old girl who’s been taught to be an “unknowing angel.”)

Elizabeth understands the change that’s come over Ciel, knows that he won’t be interested in the same things he was interested in before. But in spite of Ciel shutting her out, in spite of Sebastian’s constant presence, Lizzy is still working her hardest to try and bring some happiness to Ciel’s life because she loves him. She loves him so much that Bravat was able to take Lizzy’s desperation and devotion and use it against her.

Let’s not forget—the reason Lizzy continued seeing Bravat was because she thought he could help her make Ciel happy.

3. “She’s so ANNOYING. Like, her voice!”

I think this is the most common excuse people use to not like Lizzy. They critique her high levels of energy (even though Finny and Soma are equally vivacious), her love for beautiful things (even though Ciel is probably the vainest little boy in the whole of London, England), and the fact that she “doesn’t understand” Ciel (counterargument already presented above).

You know, in a lot of ways I see Lizzy as a Scarlett O’Hara figure—strong, determined, unflinching in the face of danger. But also very, very misunderstood. Lizzy only behaves with an exorbitant amount of energy because she wants to make Ciel happy —to bring some sunlight into his gloomy, pessimistic world. The end results are not always successful but the intention behind Lizzy’s every action is pure—as pure as Soma’s decision to help Ciel simply because he saw him as a friend. Lizzy puts on a vaudeville for Ciel in a misguided attempt to help him heal and move on from whatever is tormenting him.

4. “Oh my god, did you see her standing there in the third panel? Like who doesn’t that! RUDE.”

Black Butler is told from the perspectives of Ciel and Sebastian. We only get brief glimpses into Lizzy’s psyche so it’s impossible for us to codify her completely. What I do know is that some people out there will always hate on Lizzy—whether it’s because they dislike her voice (well that’s her VA’s fault, not Lizzy’s) or because Lizzy “gets in the way” of someone’s ship. I’m not here to reason with those who refuse to be reasoned with. This is me expressing my adoration for a flawed, misguided, but pure of heart character whose unconditional love for a changed, callous boy makes me admire her all the more.

Oddly enough, people seem to relate “understanding” a person to “knowing exactly what happened to them to make them this way.” And to me, this is really giving Lizzy an unfair shake. By this definition, Lizzy could never understand Ciel because she doesn’t know what happened to him in that one month that’s made him the way he is (reason: he flat out didn’t tell her and uses every opportunity to prevent her from finding out. Ciel is so concerned about protecting Elizabeth’s goodness/light/purity that on the Campania, when Sebastian was slaughtering all those Bizarre Dolls, Ciel shielded Lizzy from seeing the carnage because he wants her to remain innocent and unaware). To quote Albert Einstein, “Any fool can know. The point is to understand.”

I think Lizzy understands Ciel—she can sense the pain, the resignation, the drive towards something greater that Ciel is working towards. This is best exemplified in an early chapter (after Ciel’s fallen asleep and Sebastian is serving her tea) where Lizzy expresses sorrow that Ciel won’t tell her anything. Sebastian comforts Lizzy by telling her that while “It’s a difficult question for me as a butler…[I can tell you] one thing…He [Ciel] was able to spend a nice, free day with everyone.” To which Lizzy retorts that she wishes she could believe that. Elizabeth may not know what happened to Ciel during that month, but she understands.

This then brings me to my next and final point—people wanting Lizzy to “accept” the situation by stepping aside and leaving the manga. Well, to quote Michael J. Fox: “Acceptance doesn’t mean resignation; it means understanding that something is what it is and that there’s got to be a way through it.” — And this is exactly what Lizzy’s doing. She’s fighting for a way to help Ciel, to help him move on, to do anything that might benefit it. Lizzy’s accepted the situation but she’s certainly not resigned for it—Lizzy’s a fighter, and she’ll continue fighting for the boy she loves until the very end.

Further discussion is encouraged. But, please remember: refrain from using derogatory terms, unsubstantiated arguments, and referrals to “proofs” that are nothing more than blog posts made from those who wish to paint Kuroshitsuji in terms more favorable to them and whatever else they ship. I am not disparaging other characters or ships—I merely ask that you don’t refer to those “did you know” blog posts that’s caused so much strife in the Black Butler fandom. Thank you.