#the doctor of divinity is not enough of a character to get his own tag

[withasideofshakespeare]

The Great Shakespeare Playlist

Hello, friends and foes! If you’re on the Hamlet server, you’ve likely heard about this before, but if not, welcome! I’m working on making a playlist out of all the songs you associate with Shakespeare’s plays and his characters! Submissions are still open and the early submissions have been added! Who they’re associated with will be listed below, organized by play for your convenience.

Submit a song here: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScrrJawR9CzAvA-uJMFLrTEGgedTgcIGr2LR5IpYQU7W7cFkA/viewform (Don’t worry about submitting a song that has already been submitted! Just add more thoughts!) Listen to the playlist on YouTube Music here: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLeoLN_fzmwY2PLxuwuyBtijqheBAis2An An organized list of songs and their associations below the cut and in this Google Doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IEI1UqZ48tnhim3UdQ6O0-KiW8vJ93sK7wEf3_fEj-8/edit?usp=sharing

(Plays are categorized as they appear in The Riverside Shakespeare 1974) NOTE! THIS IS A WORK-IN-PROGRESS- don’t worry if your song isn’t here yet! It will be... so long as it’s on YouTube Music (I’m sorry Spotify gang!!!)

Tragedies:

Hamlet:

Rule #4- Fish in a Birdcage (Fish in a Birdcage, Fish in a Birdcage EP) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “vibes honestly. it reminds me of the plot and themes of ragad.”

Unraveling (The Crane Wives, Coyote Stories) Associated with: Hamlet, Horatio, and Ophelia Comments: “yeah i'm gonna submit a whole bunch of crane wives songs, what about it? i made this form, i get to do what i want. but yeah this song feels like it's about these guys' disastrous relationships.”

Shallow River (The Crane Wives, The Fool in Her Wedding Gown) Associated with: Ophelia and Gertrude Comments: “someone please give these two a duet and make it this song”

The Dead Waltz (Radical Face, Family Tree: The Roots) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “I feel like this is the vibe Horatio is getting while Hamlet is talking to the ghost. also, i like the idea of the whole interaction being somewhere between beautiful and terrifying.”

The Fly (Cosmo Sheldrake, Pelicans We) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “i wrote a whole fic about this (also, i absolutely adore this poem). they have the Vibe”

Ghost (Indigo Girls, Rites of Passage) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “this works post-canon or during canon. the vibes are so incredibly there. "i'm in love with your ghost" is such a horatio line (and i love the indigo girls. gay people music!!!!)”

Joking (Indigo Girls, Rites of Passage) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “...bought you a beer, it’s too corny to cry.” IM SOBBING.”

Down the River (The Crane Wives, Foxlore) Associated with: Hamlet and cast Comments: “everyone @ hamlet's increasingly murderous fuck ups”

Can’t Go Back (The Crane Wives, Foxlore) Associated with: (Post-canon) Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “‘when have you ever known the world to be a fair place? all things end and all things change’ ouch now i'm crying.”

Pretty Little Things (The Crane Wives, Foxlore) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: "i don't believe the pretty little things that you say; i've heard a lot of little pretty things. don't buy me flowers, it pains me to watch pretty little things wilt away" is this not opheliacore?? tell me this isn't opheliacore”

Your Body is a Weapon (The Wombats, Glitterbug) Associated with: Osric and Laertes Comments: “LOOK OSRIC DIDN'T DO SHIT BUT LIKE??? he is. so gay for laertes ok. because i say so <3 i will be back just you wait”

The Anchor (Bastille, Wild World) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “because???? horatio is the light that is blinding him. the anchor that hamlet ties to his brain, if you will absolutely them!!! he keeps him grounded yk”

Another Place (Bastille, Doom Days) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “maybe things would've turned out different in another time and in another place haha”

Mama (My Chemical Romance, The Black Parade) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “just. it's . just listen to it you'll see what i mean”

Brave As a Noun (AJJ, People Who Can Eat People Are the Luckiest People in the World) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “same as the last one. holy hell is this hamlet coded”

BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA (Will Wood, The Normal Album) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “once again it's just. yeah . for what for what for what it's worth if it was gonna kill you boy it would have by now”

When He Died (Lemon Demon, Spirit Phone) Associated with: Hamlet, Hamlet Sr., Claudius Comments: “this song is referring to BOTH hamlet sr and claudius. To Me”

Achilles Come Down (Gang of Youths, Go Farther In Lightness) Associated with: Hamlet, Horatio, Ophelia, Laertes Comments: “imagine . horatio singing this to hamlet. yeah. good bye. :3″ “once again this is a hamlet/horatio song that made its way onto my ophelia playlist.”

Ophelia (The Lumineers, Cleopatra) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “its litterally named ophelia and shes literally named ophelia?????”

For the Dancing and the Dreaming (Erutan) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “idk it feels like her. she sings it while going mad :3″

Eleanor Rigby (The Beatles, Greatest Hits) Associated with: Ophelia, Laertes, Hamlet, Doctor of Divinity?? Comments: “"Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave. No one was saved." Is this not Ophelia's Funeral?”

Boy With a Coin (Iron & Wine, The Shepard’s Dog) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (but specifically RAGAD) Comments: “The whole song has a running coin motif“

I’ll Follow You Into the Dark (Death Cab for Cutie) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “listen to the song. you'll get it. basically it's "if you die i'm following you"; “The song talks about death and following one's love into the dark, a.k.a. death. It talks of love so dedicated it continues after death and expresses, I think, Horatio's desire to follow Hamlet into death or anywhere at all, just wherever he goes. But it's even more tragic because he's denied the ability to follow his love into that one place, that one place where he can't go.”

Get Used To It (Ricky Montgomery, Montgomery Ricky) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “it's all about what he used to be and how he feels like he can't get back to the place where he was before which was better and it's just ough hamlet sadboy for realsies”

Time Machine (Miracle Musical, Hawaii: Part II) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “it's all about time and its passage and "WHY CANT IT STOP"core which has always been what resonated most about Hamlet to me”

Fighter (Jack Stauber's Micropop, Cheeseburger Family / Fighter) Associated with: Horatio Comments: “it's all about how he tries and tries and TRIES in this relationship and he's really trying to help this relationship which he knows will never work which is... just... sobs and dies“

Flowers in My Hair (Wes Reeves) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “it feels like something she might sing, maybe like earlier on in the play before she went mad outright. idk”

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Fucking Dead (The Rentiers, Get More Loot and Move to a Boot!) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “I. Look at the song title. Just look at it for a second.”

Dust and Ashes (Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “Vibes I guess”

Isle Unto Thyself (Miracle Musical, Hawaii: Part II) Associated with: Horatio and Hamlet Comments: “Horatio POV. It's so... first love but also like with someone much more important than you and it's asking so many questions that I feel like whoever's on the receiving end (Hamlet) has no answers and it's so horatio”

Je te laisserai des mots (Patrick Watson) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “song for like earlier in the play when she likes hamlet and is like slighly infatuated with him, it also just sounds like a song for her. <3“

Secrets and Lies (Ruelle) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “once again most of these are vibes. but i really like it for an "ophelia can see the doom of them all and eventually goes mad" approach :3″

Youth (Daughter, If You Leave) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “same as secrets and lies, if im being honest. i really like that interpritation“

Constellations (The Oh Hellos, Notos EP) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “ophelia right at the begining of her madness :3″; “It feels like an Ophelia madness song.”

Soldier, Poet, King (The Oh Hellos, Dear Wormwood) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio; Laertes, Hamlet, and Fortinbras Comments: “despite this being on my ophelia playlist it is oviusly a hamlet/horatio song . i mean look at it” “Laertes plays the role of the solider, Hamlet plays the role of the poet and Fortinbras of the King.”

Saturn (Sleeping At Last, Atlas: I) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “ummmm. horatio song for as hamlet dies or something, yeah. why was this on my ophelia playlist.”; “Um it feels like a song horatio would sing sing to hamlet at the end. Hamlet would be dying and horatio would like be holding him and cradling his body and he would stroke hamlets cheek softly. Horatio would sing this, voice breaking around his crying, and he's just begging hamlet not to die, but its all in vain. Hamlet dies. Horatio lives. The play happens again. They are trapped.”

City of Angels (Arrows to Athens, Exile) Associated with: Hamlet, Ophelia Comments: “ummmm because . just go listen to the song ok. look at it.”

Vienna (Billy Joel, The Stranger) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “um . because. idk. like its just there. its not an ophelia song, despite it being there”

Riptide (Vance Joy, Dream Your Life Away) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “the vibes”

Like Real People Do (Hozier, Take Me to Church) Associated with: Ophelia; Horatio Comments: “a- the vibessdjshf b- hamlet and ophelia are both homosexual and um. in a convience relation ship . with a dont ask dont tell motto . idk its wha t Appeared to me while reading over the lyrics i dont control these things. ANYWAY”

Line Without a Hook (Ricky Montgomery) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “ummm look at it”

Bloom- Bonus Track (The Paper Kites, Woodland) Associated with: Ophelia, Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “vibes”; “vibes and like the lyrics are so cute and soft for liek. them . please just let them be happy“; “vibes . the sound”; “idk it feels like a horatio song, "Can I take you to a moment//Where the fields are painted gold//And the trees are filled with memories//Of the feelings never told?" hes in love with hamlet but doesnt say it, and like "Oh, the whole world, it is sleeping//But my world is you//Can I be close to you?" like look??? please it is horatio im telling you “

Tea Errors (Jack Stauber) Associated with: (Pre-canon) Hamlet and Ophelia Comments: “All about woah we were really young and in love and now I’m super anxious and scared of everything now”

Ball Cap (Mother Mother) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “”Oh don't you know that beauty is only skin deep? Well baby, baby, come on and skin me" desperate love and hamlet wanting to get rid of the flesh”

Angel With a Shotgun (The Cab, Symphony Soldier) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Obviously on one hand it's just a very obvious choice of song about deep love that makes you go to great lengths - but on top of that there are so many religious illusions in it - "I don't care if heaven won't take me back, I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe" etc - that I feel really speak to the just....amount of religion that is in that play and the implications of that for Hamlet and Horatio's relationship.”

A Sadness Runs Through Him (The Hoosiers) Associated with: Horatio Comments: “The song is about desperately trying to save someone who cannot be saved. Hmm. I wonder how in the world that could possibly relate to horatio. oh wait. it's literally the crux of the entire character”

Love & War in Your Twenties (Jordy Searcy, Dark in the City) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Horatio to Hamlet - "I may never be a politician, or Make a lot of money, hold a high position Baby, you're my mission and all my glory days are yours I don't wanna take the world for granted While I'm still trying to understand it The more I live I am convinced Everyone just wants to be in love"”

It’s Alright (Mother Mother, Dance and Cry) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Roughly going back and forth in terms of pov, with Hamlet feeling the pain of things that he has done ("I did one million stupid things, I said one billion foolish things", "I am broken down in shame") and Horatio reassuring him he's ok ("It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay, you're not a demon, there's a reason, you're behaving that way. It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay and I believe, yes, I believe that you will see a better day")”

Two (Sleeping At Last, Enneagram) Associated: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Horatio's love for Hamlet in a "dude maybe you love him a little bit too much maybe worry about yourself too" kind of way.”

peace (Taylor Swift) Associated with: Hamlet and Ophelia Comments: “Somehow all of these lyrics feel like both Hamlet and Ophelia talking to each other with one voice.”

Can You Feel My Heart (Bring Me The Horizon) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “Just big "Hamlet is really not doing OK" vibes with this one.”

Stone (Jaymes Young, Feel Something) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Just Horatio trying to be what Hamlet needs...also though specifically the first lyric; "Your father came and went like the ocean’s tide".”

Sunlight (Hozier, Wasteland, Baby!) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: "All the tales the same Told before and told again A soul that's born in cold and rain Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight And at last can grant a name To a buried and a burning flame As love and its decisive pain Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight"

Leave Out All The Rest (Linkin Park, Minutes to Midnight) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Hamlet telling Horatio to tell his story: "When my time comes Forget the wrong that I've done Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed And don't resent me And when you're feeling empty Keep me in your memory Leave out all the rest"

Bigger Than The Whole Sky (Taylor Swift, Midnights) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “I mean, it's just the aftermath of Hamlet's death: "Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye You were bigger than the whole sky You were more than just a short time And I've got a lot to pine about I've got a lot to live without"

my tears ricochet (Taylor Swift) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “So to me these lyrics scream of, not what sort of "actually happened", for want of a better way of putting it, but of what Ophelia thinks happened and how Hamlet treated her and it's sort of her ghost looking on at the funeral like "oh NOW you care???""I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And you're the hero flying around, saving face And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet"

Ready, Aim, Fire (Imagine Dragons) Associated with: Fortinbras; Hamlet, Horatio, Laertes, Fortinbras, and Claudius  Comments: “Fortinbras taking Denmark; "Ready aim fire An empire is falling In just one day" “This is SUCH a 5.2 duel scene song. listen to me listen. listen. "With our backs to the wall//The darkness will fall//We never quite thought//We could lose it all" Literally they all die. all of them. dead. well not Horatio but still, he looses it all. "An empire is falling//In just one day" what did i say. all dead. empire falling. "You close your eyes//And the glory fades" Theyre all dying. for nothing. why? because claudius wanted the throne so bad he would kill his brother? it doesnt matter if you die. "Off in the distance//There is resistance//Bubbling up and festering" Yeah, that that's fortinbras coming to take over the kindom. good luck buddie. Hey mr motion//Make me a potion//Shake it all up//With your mistery" Claudius again. he used poison on the blade + in the drink to make sure they died. "How come I've never seen//Your face around here//I know every single face//Around here" horatio questioning what fortinbras is doing here. "A man on a mission//Changing the vision//I was never welcome here" Claudius, on a mission of becoming king. yeah. "We don't have the choice to stay//We'd rather die than//Do it your way" Hamlet and Leartes in the duel, doomed to die by claudius. "Blood in the writing//Stuck in the fighting//Look through the riffle's sight" they!! are trapped!! doomed to this duel!! they cannot help it, they must die!! its tragic, but thats how the play was written. doomed by the narrative. "Hearing the echo//Holding the shackle//I was never welcome here" hamlet, seeing the ghost of his father, tasked with revenge, being the ghosts touchstone to the living realm. over all its such a tragic song for a tragic scene!!! there is . so much here. it could fill an animatic. i love it“

Yellow Flicker Beat (Lorde) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “Ophelia at the beginning of madness, thinking of what she thought she was going to be (she wasn't actually a princess but she did think she'd be Queen) and just watching everything, including her own mind, unravel.”

Battle Cry (Imagine Dragons, Smoke + Mirrors) Associated with: Hamlet, Fortinbras Comments: “Hamlet knowing that he's going to die ("I've been poisoned inside") and Fortinbras taking Denmark ("King is crowned, it's do or die")”

It Has Begun (STARSET, Transmissions) Associated with: Fortinbras Comments: “Fortinbras's pov before invading Denmark.”

Atlas Drowned (Gang of Youths, Go Farther In Lightness) Associated with: Laertes Comments: “This is Laertes storming the castle, willing to dare damnation and call all of Elsinore into account for how they harmed his family. There’s anger, frustration, disgust at the hegemony, but also a deep, deep love.”

Hey Brother (Avicii, True) Associated with: Laertes and Ophelia Comments:  “Oh, and if the sky comes falling down / for you / there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” NEED I SAY MORE 🥺👉👈”

In The Best Case Scenario We’d Die at the Same Time (My Name is Ian) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “🥹 babe”

Little Talks (Of Monsters And Men, My Head Is An Animal) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: ““And some days I can’t even dress myself” “It’s killing me to see you this way””

Una Palabra (Carlos Varela, nubes) Associated with: Laertes to Ophelia Comments: “ANYWAY this whole song is so them but especially the last line. “Está la orilla donde me ahogo” means “the shore in which I drown.” This is in reference to eyes, specifically OPHELIA’S EYES. Like it’s literally too perfect. How is this NOT Laertes coded????”

Left Brain, Right Brain (Bo Burnham, what.) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “They’ve always given me very left brain and right brain vibes. Ros is emotional, Guil is analytical. Also, the explosion and immediate apology from left brain is so Guil.”

Dust in the Wind (Kansas) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “The overarching theme in the song of narrative insignificance is very relevant to the idea of R&G.”

i’m gonna tell my therapist on you (Pinkshift) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “The idea of a ‘downwards spiral’ and blaming it on others feels like Hamlet tbh”

Little Dark Age (MGMT) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “Dude, just listen to it. It sounds like something Hamlet wrote in his emo poetry book”

Not the Ghost (The Crane Wives, Foxlore) Associated with: Hamlet and Hamlet Sr. (the ghost) Comments: “If only I could break the chain of disappointments weighing me down” is such a Hamlet line.

Typical Me (kroh) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “Yes ik its originally a ranboo fansong but. Look at it.”

Dead Hearts (Stars, The Five Ghosts) Associated with: Fortinbras and Horatio (talking post-play) Comments: “'They were kids that I once knew/now they're all dead hearts to you'. an interview between an outsider trying to understand and the unwilling witness to it all.”

Up the Wolves (The Mountain Goats, The Sunset Tree) Associated with: Basically everyone young in Hamlet, especially Hamlet and Ophelia Comments: “Just listen”

No Children (The Mountain Goats, Tallahassee) Associated with: Basically everyone young in Hamlet, especially Hamlet and Ophelia Comments: “Just listen”

Child Support (Woz) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “Vibes”

Another Me (D_AAN) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “A description of Hamlet’s supposed descent into madness – a change in personality and identity from a madness constructed by a ‘deceiving person’ (偽者) to actually becoming mad. The narrator also calls themself ‘traitor’ (裏切り), which is fitting considering the R&G arc. One line that stands out is “Are all humans in the world the same” (世界中の人間が同じですか), which reminds me of the “To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand” bit (Act II Scene II)”

Grievous Lady (Team Grimoire & Laur) Associated with: Gertrude Comments: “I just think ‘grievous’ is an excellent word to describe Gertrude’s situation and fate.”

Purgatorium ( お月さま交響曲) Associated with: Hamlet Sr. (the ghost) Comments: “Obviously a song themed around Purgatory and Hamlet Sr. – coded. Specifically, though: “Is this the end or the beginning?” (これは終わりなのか始まりか) feels like a commentary on whether avenging his death will be the end-all of strife or the start of something even more disastrous. Also, “Will you take away my sounds, colours, and memories and destroy what I am?” (音も色も記憶も奪って/私と云うモノを壊して――？) suggests that the ghost is no longer Hamlet Sr., but a faded and hollow shell of him that only understands vengeance.”

Blastix Riotz (Camellia) Associated with: Laertes Comments: “Laertes’s aggressive and chaotic energy.”

Bad Elixir (Xi) Associated with: Claudius Comments: “‘Bad Elixir’ = Poison, which is what Claudius did to Hamlet Sr. and also what the presence of Claudius appears to represent in the play (something rotten in the state of Denmark). Also, the melody is less dramatic/antagonistic, but more descending/tragic, which feels like a fitting representation of how he’s really more of the Lawful Evil type than your stereotypical villain.”

Imaginary Friends (Sta) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “R&G are the Imaginary Friends of Hamlet – apparently his friends, but not really, and cease to be alive by the end of the play. Two especially relevant lines: “we wouldn't wake up to dark so long” -> they are going to be executed, so yeah, they won’t be waking up at all after not so long “We smile under the coil all over again” -> Hamlet’s “For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, / When we have shuffled off this mortal coil” (Act III Scene I)”

WATER (A-39) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “Well, a song about drowning is a song about Ophelia. A line that stands out is “I was merely searching for a wish that did not come true” (叶わない願いをただ探していた) – which could represent Ophelia’s attitude towards Hamlet’s affection: she wishes they were true, but they turned out to be just a part of Hamlet’s plot. Also, “pressure, opposing currents, suffocation, dizziness” (圧力　対流　窒息　目眩) is a good description of her reaction to her father’s death: Polonius and Hamlet are the “opposing currents” pulling her apart and “pressuring” her in different ways, thus causing her to lose direction (“dizziness”) and start drowning (“suffocation”) long before she physically did”

Purple Verse (Hommarju) Associated with: Polonius Comments: “Polonius speaks in purple prose, but it’s verse instead of prose. Hence Purple Verse.”

I’ve Heard it Said (combatplayer) Associated with: Horatio Comments: “The song is very transient, and Horatio (as “Timekeeper”) is a transient character. Lyrics are also very fitting. “You know that it’s insane” -> direct commentary on Hamlet’s madness. “Before it takes you down” indicates Horatio’s understanding that Hamlet is descending and will eventually fall. “The universe is made up of stories” references Horatio’s role as the person who would be telling the story of the tragedy.”

Phantom (WF1/F-777) Associated with: Hamlet Sr. (the ghost) Comments: “Phantom” can mean “ghost”, “nightmare”, or “illusion”, and I think all three apply to Hamlet Sr. – he’s presented as a ghost, but Hamlet’s madness can be interpreted by some sort of terror/fear in response to his presence (like how one might react to a nightmare), while the ghost might not even be real (illusion). Also the pipe organ is an instrument that fits the religious implications of Hamlet Sr. and the play quite well.”

Out of your love (Exhaust Mix) (RANDO:) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “Ophelia is a character that should not be defined by Hamlet’s ‘love’ for her, hence ‘Out of your love’. Another line, ‘Heaven can fall’, references how her death is not honoured properly and how the ‘holiness debate’ of Hamlet’s and Claudius’s actions are largely irrelevant to her.”

Why do you hate me? (Camellia) Associated with: Polonius Comments: “Polonius does not appear to understand the gravity of his actions, and is somewhat confused when Hamlet and Gertrude express disdain towards him, hence ‘Why do you hate me?’. Also, the drum patterns, distorted vocal samples, and sound effects sound like endless rambling, and the last bit feels like him bleeding out after he is stabbed (sorry)”

Vicious Heroism - Traitor Version (Kobaryo) Associated with: Laertes Comments: “Laertes is obviously a hero with a vicious disposition who eventually betrayed Claudius. The song also contains a multitude of genre and key shifts, and is set at the very high BPM of 256 – this reflects how fast everything progressed since Laertes returned from France, and his internal turmoil over how to deal with the situation (the whole honour thing).”

lastendconductor (zts) Associated with: Horatio Comments: “This is the theme song of Battler Ushiromiya from the visual novel Umineko no Naku Koro ni. Battler and Horatio are parallel characters in that they are both survivors of tragic narratives that use storytelling as a coping mechanism for their shock, loss, and grief. “conductor” refers to how each of these characters direct the retellings of the “last end”, or the certainty of the deaths of essentially everyone else except themself. Also, the genre of trance and the texture of the violin vibe pretty well with Horatio.”

FLOWER (DJ YOSHITAKA) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “Apart from the direct association of Ophelia with flowers, I feel like Ophelia is suited for ‘retro’-style songs that have rising chords and reassuring melodies. I suppose this is more of a pre-canon Ophelia.”

RESSiSTANCE (ぐるたみん) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “I think this is another song that tells the story of the play from Hamlet’s perspective. ‘lovesong with the image of falsehood’ (嘘の様に、愛の歌を) describes his communication to Ophelia; ‘as I do not know whether the meaning of tomorrow will be taken away’ (明日の意味を 奪われなどしらないから) expresses his existential dread (to be or not to be) and his indecision; ‘to jail the depths of my heart behind a lock’ (ココロの奥で 鍵かけたいや) references his ‘acting’ and how his madness is of ambiguous ingenuity; ‘If the answer I desire does not lie here – merely this is sufficient reason to embark’ (望んだ答がここじゃないのなら/踏み出す理由はそれだけでいい) describes his rather long-winded journey to ascertain Claudius’s fratricide, via a play etc; ‘my struggling heartbeat is the proof of my breath’ (抗う鼓動が今呼吸への証だ) again fits with the ‘to be or not to be’ and his internal conflicts; ‘Even if the clock’s hands turn in reverse, I cannot return to yesterday’ (時計の針を巻き戻しても/昨日に戻れるわけじゃないから) is reminiscent of ‘for yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward’, and shows despair at his newfound predicament Finally ‘Resistance’ can also refer to how Hamlet breaks the fourth wall and resists the narrative (in futility of course)”

ヘルツ" (Hertz) (zeryoone ft. nao) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “I feel like this song is post-canon Horatio, at a very old age, reminiscing Hamlet. Again, it’s a very liminal song. Key lyrics: “the day we bid farewell” (あの日にさよなら) – establishes the subject of the song being the day Hamlet died “ ‘the unchanging’ is quite beautiful” (“確かなもの”って/綺麗だと思ってた) – commentary on how quickly everything in the play happened “in your eyes, I saw reflected my bitter smile” (その目に映した僕は/上手く笑えやしなかった) – best Hamratio quote I’ve ever seen. (the literal meaning is more like ‘I was unable to smile properly’, hence a contorted, forced, or bitter smile) And I think the following bits don’t even need much explaining: “the conversations floating in space and the resigned answers both fade, frozen in wintry cold” (宙に浮かんだ会話も/苦し紛れの返事も/冬の寒さに凍えて/居場所を失くしたようだった) “I’ve long known your desires; I’ve also known why you didn’t cry” (もう分かっていた/涙なんて無くたって/分かっていた) “Why would this become merely a memory” (記憶になってしまうなんて) “Fear prevents me from releasing your hand from my grip” (僕は怖くなって放せない) “This is the last time; that is the last time” (もう最後だった/あれが最後だったんだ) “A tremendous force took you away” (巨大な力がきみだけ奪ってく) – the force of the narrative; “I cannot forgive this world, about to resurrect itself” (生まれ変わろうとする世界がただ/赦せなかった) – Fortinbras; “I touch the transparent you” (透明なきみに触れていたんだ) “Both my grief and my regret faded on the night of hope” (僕の愁いや後悔も/消え去ってしまえと願う夜を) “on the day we bid farewell, I’ll tell you, I’ve forgotten you” (あの日にさよなら/言って/きみを忘れていく)”

Alea jacta est! (BlackY and WAiKURO) Associated with: Hamlet and Laertes Comments: “Yes, the title refences “iacta alea est” (“the die is cast” = “we are past the point of no return”) supposedly said by Julius Caesar as he led his army across the Rubicon to start the civil war. Thus this song is about Hamlet and Laertes’s duel. (The song’s MV also features two people duelling.) I feel like this sort of ‘jazzy trancecore’ genre also captures the duel’s vibe pretty well.”

しう" (SIU) (MARETU) Associated with: Laertes Comments: “This song discusses Laertes as a ‘rallier of the people’. Specific relevant lines include “an overflowing anti-affluence sentiment” (あふるる反富裕), “life and the world are merely such, huh?” (限界だろう？人間界は), “give compassion to the plebeian sacrificers” (最低の犠牲者に愛を) Also, “give termination to the slaves of hope” (願望の奴隷に終いを) feels like foreshadowing to the duel.”

こちら、幸福安心委員会です。(This is the council of happiness and contentment.) (UtataP) Associated with: Claudius Comments: “This song describes a dystopian society where people are required to be happy – or they will be executed in excessively cruel ways. As such, this is a darker interpretation of Claudius’s reign – why is everyone so content under him? The answer is that any dissenters were executed, much like Hamlet was intended to be.”

Löschen (BlackY and Risa Yuzuki) Associated with: Hamlet and Laertes Comments: “I feel like this is another song that depicts Hamlet and Laertes’s duel. “To reveal my voice with raspy words” (錆びた声で吐き出して) – the pre-duel sort-of-confession-and-reconciliation scene; “One-sided justice manifests in my fleeting thoughts; I have continued to make choices untrue to myself” (片側だけの正義/横切る影に立ち　不自由選び続けてた) – apart from what is essentially a Polonius reference, this shows how both Hamlet and Laertes are unable to comprehend the entirety of the situation and have little free will in their fates “Facing the unobscured you, I wish this nameless view will last forever” (隠せない方を背に/名前のない景色　終わらないでと待ち続けた) – again, they are both relieved that the other is being honest and vulnerable to a certain extent There are also a few self-evident lines: “If forgiveness is as cruel as harmony, I have already made my decision” (赦されること　それが無慈悲な調和と等しいのなら、/答え遂げて) “Under the exploits of “pain”, we keep hurting each other” (悼みという名のもとに/繰り返し傷つけあう)”

Uprooted, Marooned (Memoryheads (Frums & Silentroom)) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “Highly experimental, almost nonsensical style that ends with intense static ambiance – I feel like this is more of RosGuil in R&G are Dead than in Hamlet itself. I don’t feel like this is the type of song I can explain with words.”

彁 (Ka) (LeaF) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “彁 does not actually exist as a kanji or a hanzi – it is a Unicode ‘ghost character’ caused by an error in digitalising and cataloguing kanji. Thus the song denotes the perceived existence of things that don’t actually exist, which is again RosGuil’s lives. This song also ends in static, which is the execution scene, of course.”

Mutiny (F-777) Associated with: Laertes Comments: “Laertes and his revolution, of course. The strong kicks are his vibe.”

miragecoordinator (zts) Associated with: Gertrude Comments: “I’d say this track is a sinister interpretation of Gertrude, in which she is an accomplice in Claudius’s schemes. “Mirage coordinator” indicates that she is helping Claudius put up the illusion of everything being well in Denmark and cover up the fratricide. Also, the song’s chant samples and dissonant melodies give a sinister vibe overall.”

ÅMARA(大未来電脳) (Amaracus, computer of the grand future) (sasakure.UK) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “Okay, disclaimer, I don’t even comprehend much of this song’s lyrics, but I think it represents Hamlet’s messed-up mind and “infinite space” pretty well. Some bits that I can understand: “Truth or fabrication – no one knows what the future will be” (現実か虚構か、誰にもその先は解らない) – uncertainty, indecision “Even the name of the person who poems are waiting for has been forgotten” (詩が待つ彼の名も忘れて) – something about Hamlet being a poet and slowly losing his identity throughout the play “From the corridor where the poison of dreams is spat out, to the fracturing of the celebration of resurrection – dwell in heaven, in this night!” (夢の毒吐く回廊/再生の祝祭が千切れるまで/天国を這う、夜に！) – I suppose “poison of dreams” can refer to how Hamlet died and “good night, sweet prince”, and the rest is religious imagery about how Hamlet and the people he killed would all end up in purgatory rather than heaven”

Tie me down gently (溝口ゆうま feat. 大瀬良あい) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Another song of Horatio towards Hamlet. I interpret the title to be Horatio recognising and accepting that Hamlet is “tying him down” – i.e. binding him into the tragedy. Especially relevant lyrics: “If these dreams are so sweet, let me never awaken” (甘い甘い夢ならば覚めないでよ) – an extension of “good night, sweet prince” “This city is threatening whenever, and there is nowhere to run” (街はいつも時間に怯えて 逃れる場所は何処にも無い) – Elsinore as a dangerous prison “Merely our distance fills me with dread” (君との距離ですら不安になってくる) – self-explanatory “Slave becomes a knight” – multi-layered meaning in this one. Although Hamlet is of a higher social class than Horatio, he often refers to himself with phrases like ‘a rogue and peasant slave’. Horatio may be considered the archetypal ‘knight by a prince’ character. From all this we get the sense that Hamlet and Horatio are truly inseparable and even not distinguishable at some points. “Even though I am so weak, I remain by your side to show you love, love, love” (弱い弱い僕だけど 君の傍で Show you love, love, love) – also self-explanatory.”

Vital (Masaaki Endō) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “This is actually the OP of the anime “Angels of Death”, but I feel like it also describes Hamlet right after his meeting with the ghost. This is a relatively more noble and less sinister interpretation of the play. “Locked fabrications and the sacrificed future” (鍵をかけた 虚構と/捨てられた 未来が) – expresses determination despite uncertainty “boring words and obscured fates adorn the cold knife with rationale” (下らない 言葉と/正体不明の 運命か/冷えたナイフに 理由を付着ていく) – Hamlet knows what he’s doing and why he’s doing it “If woe befalls me too much, I will slice it into pieces” (何万と積もった 懸念を/線状に 切り裂いていく) – again, determination “Uncertain resolve, pure prayers, honest words – promise to forgive none” (逡巡な この心を/純粋な 祈りを/単純な 言葉のまま/誓う 誰が赦さなくとも) – I guess this is pretty self-evident”

Nyarlathotep's Dreamland (Raimukun) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “A representation of Hamlet’s so-called “infinite space”, which is surreal and perhaps eldritch in nature.”

Random (Silentroom) Associated with: Polonius Comments: “Polonius will say the most random shit ever in the most random tone, pitch, and cadence ever, just to keep rambling. This is represented pretty well in the song.”

キミとボクへの葬送歌 (A Requiem to You and Me) (ROKINA) Associated with: Hamlet and Laertes Comments: “Simply a representation of how Hamlet and Laertes both die in the duel. The descending chords further manifest the tragedy.”

Ultimatecalifragilisticexpialidocious (t+pazolite) Associated with: Polonius Comments: “Polonius would definitely pick one of the longest words in the language (supercalifragilisticexpialidocious) and make it EVEN LONGER. Bless that old man.”

The Survivor (Taishi) Associated with: Horatio Comments: “What else is Horatio if not The Survivor? Again, trance vibes with Horatio pretty well. The song somehow manages to stay calm with a bunch of chainsaw kicks, which is essentially Horatio lowkey downplaying Hamlet’s murders.”

狂言綺語 (False Embellishment) (影虎。& ikaruga_nex) Associated with: Polonius Comments: ““False Embellishment” is essentially gaslighting with fancy words, which is one of the most Polonius things ever. This song also has a lot of distorted vocal samples throughout – a.k.a. rambling. Finally, the melody is definitely something a stuck-up, fancy noble would listen to.”

Now Is The Time, Do It (Roy Mikelate) Associated with: Hamlet Sr. (the ghost) Comments: “Hardstyle song with a bunch of vocal samples from a horror game is definitely Hamlet Sr.’s vibe as a ghost. The title fits his presence when Hamlet is in Gertrude’s room – he is urging Hamlet to kill Claudius right then.”

F1055 (Silentroom) Associated with: Polonius Comments: “Irregular rhythm, dissonant melody, heavy psy kicks and reverb – definitely the vibe of Polonius’s droning. The title is a convoluted version of the word “flow”, which fits both Polonius speaking in needlessly convoluted phrasing and his speech flowing on.”

Promising Light (Iron & Wine, The Creek Drank the Cradle) Associated with: Hamlet and Ophelia Comments: “This song feels like it's about Hamlet realizing and admitting to his mistakes (and hopefully making up with Ophelia).

White Winter Hymnal (Fleet Foxes) Associated with: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Comments: “This song feels like the end of RAGAD. Man... they're just going along with what they're being told and it always ends the same :(”

Blood // Water (grandson) Associated with: Claudius, Gertrude, and Polonius; Hamlet, Laertes, and Ophelia Comments: “"The price of your greed is your son and your daughter, what you gon' do when there's blood in the water?" These kids deserve a chance to call out their parents for not doing something more to stop this tragedy!”

tous les mêmes (Stromae) Associated with: Hamlet and Ophelia Comments: “This feels like an over-the-top Hamlet & Ophelia argument (possibly performed for Polonius and Claudius to throw them off Hamlet’s trail- he’s gone mad over a lover’s quarrel, not because he knows about the murder of Hamlet Sr.)”

A Great Design (Black Marble, A Different Arrangement) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “vibes. also, the song talks about "a great design", which I think fits the themes of Hamlet as it also says "we don't have a long time, a great design." This relates to Hamlet, I think, because there seems to be a plan afoot, even if it is only the hand of the author, dictating this must be a tragedy. Therefore, Hamlet is doomed to tragedy and I think this song expresses that.”

Haunt You (X Lovers feat. Chloe Moriondo) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “In the song the singer talks about how someday when he dies, and turns into a ghost, he's going to come back to haunt the other person, because he doesn't want anyone else to have them. "Can't picture my life without you by my side... can't let you go... never let you go..." If this isn't Hamlet to Horatio, I don't know what is.”

Fourth of July (Sufjan Stevens, Carrie & Lowell) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “vibes. Also, it talks about an evil that spread and a celebration and how we're all going to die. It also talks about someone dying, and how everything was fiction and prediction. To me, it's about Hamlet and the end of his life.”

Bad Decisions (The Strokes) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “vibes. Also, Hamlet makes a lot of bad decisions, and it shows how sometimes he can be harsh with Horatio, and I think it sums up their relationship pretty well.”

Everybody Just Wants To (Johnny Goth) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “The song talks about "playing pretend" like Hamlet does and asks "when will it end" and I think the song is ultimately about death, which is something Hamlet is fixated on. also, vibes”

christian death (Ekkstacy) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “The song is about suicide, and wanting to commit it, wanting to rip other people to shreds and losing perspective on other people. It's about despair and desperation and being stuck, which I think resonates with Hamlet.”

We’ll Be Together (In Love With A Ghost) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “The song itself has no lyrics, but I think the title says it all. If you look at it from a Hamlet perspective, the song is about Hamlet and Horatio wanting so bad to be together, then vowing that someday they'll be togther after death. They'll find each other, no matter what.”

Barking Dog (Dizzy) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Just... listen to the lyrics. I can't decide if it's from Hamlet's or Horatio's perspective, I think it's Hamlet, but it's about pain and letting go and how love can't take the pain away. "We're bound by blood and gore...", "darkness reaps what darkness sows"... agh it makes me wanna cry”

Why Am I Like This? (Orla Gartland) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “The whole song is questioning why the singer has to be this way, why she can't change. It talks about her coming across everyday sadness and regretting not helping, and that just... reminds me of him. It talks about never being in the moment, going out to shout the words we never said, and how those words are stuck on a loop inside her head. It's an angry song at times, the singer is clearly angry at herself for the way she is, but equally frustrated that she can't change. It questions everything, questions others' love for her, questions her own soul, and it's just... Hamlet. To me.”

Love Like Ghosts (Lord Huron, Strange Trails) Associated with: Hamlet and Ophelia Comments: “Ophelia and hamlet song, song about love and ghosts. they have tenuous relationships with both.”

Hello My Old Heart (The Oh Hellos, Oh. Hello.) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “the sound/vibes”

Meet Me in the Woods (Lord Huron, Strange Trails) Associated with: Hamlet; Ophelia Comments: “hamlet goes to horatio and talks about seeing his ghost dad”; “ophelia madness song”

Seneca (Novo Amor) Associated with: Horatio Comments: “vibes... there's a sadness to it, a sense of what could've been, but also pride in the love they've had. "I can make it all feel far away..." Horatio wants to take Hamlet's pain away, but he knows it's not that simple, and even if it were, Hamlet wouldn't listen. "Ain't it funny how we went nowhere?" Horatio is talking about how they pushed and pushed, but stayed in the same place... no real closure, no real revenge that could be celebrated, just more dead bodies.”

What A Heavenly Way To Die (Troye Silvan, I’m Not Afraid Anymore) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “horatio in love with hamlet, but i feel like he knows the play can only end in tradedy”

Planets and Stars (PAVVLA) Associated with: Ophelia Comments: “vibes”

Light (Sleeping At Last) Associated with: Hamlet and Horatio Comments: “Horatio song for hamlets death again. horatio sings this to hamlet as hes dying, again hes crying, and hoping that hamlet can go to heaven, even if he knows that is imposible with what hamlet has done. he still hopes. he has to. hes broken by hamlets death but he loves him and need hamlet to know that. he hopes hamlet hears him. he hopes its not too late.”

Haunted (Laura Les) Associated with: Hamlet Comments: “This song is very much a Hamlet kind of losing it a bit: "I've been up for three days, everything is haunted, everyone is evil and there's bugs inside the carpet". Like, him losing perspective on who he is and who the villain is and I don't think he was sleeping much either.”

Upward Over the Mountain (Iron & Wine, The Creek Drank The Cradle) Associated with: Hamlet and Gertrude Comments: “Hamlet looks back on his relationship with his mother just before he dies. "Mother don't worry, I killed the last snake that lived in the creek bed" is a GREAT line about Claudius' death and the rest of the song feels like a retrospective on Hamlet's friendships, relationships, birth, and death. The singer compares himself to a bird (like Hamlet's "fall of a sparrow" line!) and talks about flying "upward over the mountain," perhaps hanging on to dreams of going to heaven.”

Macbeth:

Rattlesnake (Kabaret Sybarit, The Poodle) Associated with: Lady Macbeth Comments: “THIS IS HER SONG. IT'S HERS! completely by coincidence, the whole plot of the play is there and i love it.”

Notos (The Oh Hellos, Notos EP) Associated with: Malcolm Comments: “it has the vibe. maybe post-canon or act 5 specifically?”

Miss Macbeth (Elvis Costello, Spike) Associated with: Lady Macbeth Comments: “Once again. Just. Just look at the title for a second”

Shia LaBeouf Live (Rob Cantor, single) Associated with: The whole show Comments: “I was in Macbeth and we were all super normal about this song and it was a cast in joke”

Thus Always to Tyrants (The Oh Hellos, Dear Wormwood) Associated with: Macduff and Lady Macduff Comments: “I picture these lyrics as their separate thought processes as they say goodbye for the last time (not aware it's the last, of course) through the end of the play.”

Caesar (The Oh Hellos, Dear Wormwood) Associated with: Malcolm Comments: “This is how I picture Malcolm's coronation going down. It's bittersweet but has an air of power about it and takes place in the early springtime ("feel how the winter succumbs to the spring"). I imagine Macduff is the speaker here, ordering the Thanes (now Earls) and soldiers to gather and watch the heir be crowned. Malcolm ignores his uncertainty and takes the crown.”

I Will Survive (Cake, Fashion Nugget) Associated with: Lady Macduff Comments: “She *won't* survive, but I think she'd like this song after getting abandoned by Macduff.”

Romeo and Juliet:

Rose (The Oh Hellos, Boreas) Associated with: Romeo and Juliet Comments: “this has a little bit of romance, a little bit of existentialism, and a little bit of everyone else watching this teenage shitshow play out. (and it's also a great song, when taking for its metaphorical meaning, about oppression by christian nationalists)”

Things We Lost in the Fire (Bastille, All This Bad Blood) Associated with: Benvolio Comments: “i just,,,, he lost a lot of things yk? not in a fire necessarily but still i personally think romeo and juliet is very dumpster fire core”

The Diver (Bastille, VS (Other People’s Heartache Part III)) Associated with: Mercutio Comments: “A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSESSSSS ^ legitimately one of the lyrics”

Kill the Director (The Wombats, A Guide to Love, Loss and Desperation) Associated with: Romeo Comments: “this reminds me of when romeo falls in love with rosaline and/or juliet haha the irony is that it is not a romcom as matthew 'murph' murphy says”

Johanna (Sweeney Todd 2012) Associated with: Romeo Comments: “you have captured a theatre kid congrats anyways this song is romeocore to me. no clue why”

I’ll Follow You Into the Dark (Death Cab for Cutie) Associated with: Romeo and Juliet Comments: “listen to the song. you'll get it. basically it's "if you die i'm following you"

Creep (Radiohead) Associated with: Romeo Comments: “This is what I imagine Romeo singing/screaming in the woods at the start of the play after his pseudo-breakup with Rosaline. Like I like to think Benvolio hears SHEEEE RUNNNSS OUT THE DOOOOOOOOOOR in the distance and is like "oh there he goes"

Kiss Me (Sixpence None The Richer, Songs of Love & Romance) Associated with: Romeo and Juliet Comments: “This song feels like what Romeo and Juliet's relationship feels like to me. Like it's secretive and sweet and there's that lovely emphasis on the safety of night and it's like awwww man”

Time In A Bottle (Jim Croce) Associated with: Romeo and Juliet Comments: “it's a beautiful and melancholic song about loving someone deeply but not being able to spend enough time with them due to the fact that you aren't gonna be around with them forever....hey I can think of two zany teens who love each other and then get very little time together before their demise! It just really feels right. Also a lovely song in general.”

The Bitch Is Back (Elton John) Associated with: Romeo, Benvolio, and Mercutio Comments: “They are ALL the Bitch that is BACK”

A Thousand Miles (Vanessa Carlton, Be not Nobody) Associated with: Romeo Comments: “he loves kinda crappy love poems and he thinks this is THE most romantic song of all times, BAR NONE.“

Come To My Window (Melissa Etheridge, Yes I Am Melissa) Associated with: Romeo and Juliet Comments: “This song is just the balcony scene, and I think it captures the kinda cheery sweet energy of Romeo and Juliet's whole relationship”

Heart Of Glass (Blondie, Parallel Lines) Associated with: Romeo Comments: “it's a song about feeling a lot of feelings over love and being kinda led around by it, for better and for worse! That sounds a lot like my guy Romeo in my mind. It also just feels like a song he would like”

Wonderwall (Oasis, (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?) Associated with: Romeo Comments: “Romeo is kinda annoying/enough into art and poetry that I think he is 100% one of those guys who starts learnign guitar and brings it around when he hangs out with his friends and is like "hey guys look what I learned to play" and then he plays wonderwall (a song he finds VERY romantic)”

War (Edwin Starr, War & Peace) Associated with: The Capulets and the Montagues Comments: “A GREAT song about how war and violence SUCKS and ends up harming people senselessly with no benefit to the actual people. That sounds a bit like my favorite sensless feud between two households, both alike in dignity...”

On My Own (Les Misérables) Associated with: Romeo (about Rosaline) Comments: “This is what Romeo is doing before he makes his first appearance in the play. Dramatic little bitch.”

See You Again (Tyler, The Creator feat. Kali Uchis, Flower Boy) Associated with: Romeo and Juliet Comments: “Romeo goes bonkers about Juliet while she "prepares" for her wedding to Paris”

make me wanna die (lovelytheband, if we’re being honest) Associated with: Romeo and Juliet Comments: “I think the song is written about them, but I think it's a modern rendition with flawed protagonists. They both have mental health issues and modern problems, but they still love each other despite it and somehow it's a strange dependence that seems to fixate on death and seems to spiral towards its inevitable end.”

Othello:

Chemical Overreaction / Compound Fracture (Will Wood and the Tapeworms, Everything is a Lot) Associated with: Othello Comments: “it's a hard song to read but it's all about ANGER and VIOLENCE and OOOOH KILL KILL FIGHT which is like Othellocore, not to mention Othello has always given spaghetti western vibes to me (don't ask me) so this is fits for me :)”

Julius Caesar:

Little Dark Age (MGMT) Associated with: The whole show Comments: “The death of the republic as the death of an already rotting corpse. The cospirators kill Caesar as if he was a parasite poisoning the body of the state. Little do they know that the venom has already infected everything. I see it almost a a background song for scheming/preparing for the war.”

Exit Music (For A Film) (Radiohead) Associated with: The whole show Comments: “After the assassination. Cospirators red with blood, Anthony enters the scene (breathe keep breathing, dont loose your nerve) he fakes civility, he gives them his hands, staining them with blood. Brutus convinces Cassius to keep him alive. Then Anthony is alone. At the crescendo he breaks on Caesar's corpse”

Cassius (Foals) Associated with: Cassius Comments: “Nothing too philosophical it's very Cassius core”

Love It Dissipates (Mother Mother) Associated with: Brutus and Cassius Comments: “After the fight in the tent scene. Almost a lullaby for codepending love. Yes you're everything to me, but you're also all the things that poison me. I'd be your anything, baby. The frame to your picture, the pain to your wound. I'd give my heart too to you”

Brutus (The Buttress) Associated with: Brutus Comments: “Uh. Trans Brutus??? (“What’s more wrong, that I too wish to be great or my mother wished she’d had a son?”) Also, great use of a Macbeth line.”

King Lear:

I’m Not That Guy (Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson) Associated with: Edmund Comments: “Idk man the. The vibes. Not all of it fits but that sure is him. Yeah.”

my tears ricochet (Taylor Swift) Associated with: Cordelia Comments: “hands down”

Comedies:

Twelfth Night:

Never Love an Anchor (The Crane Wives, Coyote Stories) Associated with: Antonio and Sebastian Comments: “Ocean theme! "Unrequited" love angst! I think this is the song that a modern Antonio would listen to on his way home from Sebastian's wedding. (And then Olivia hopefully realizes that she's actually in love with Viola and Seb and Antonio get their happily ever after a few months later)” “HI DIANTHUS putting this here bc of your post! 10000/10 fully agree also ive seen people apply this song to multiple ships on tumblr when i was looking this song up which is great. amazing. let’s keep doing this! (which makes sense bc. anchor… ship…. hey i am normal.) also i am p sure someone has already submitted this here! hi!”

Community Gardens (The Scary Jokes, BURN PYGMALION!!! A Better Guide To Romance) Associated with: Viola Comments: “its giving make me a willow cabin at your gate TONS, also it's so cute and I feel like it's got the kind of edge that I just KNOW Viola has”

Cloud 9 (Beach Bunny) Associated with: Viola Comments: None

True Trans Soul Rebel (Against Me!, Transgender Dysphoria Blues) Associated with: Viola Comments: None

Much Ado About Nothing:

Hello, Goodbye (The Beatles, Greatest Hits) Associated with: Benedick and Beatrice Comments: “This is their entire relationship.”

Champagne (Machinery of the Human Heart) Associated with: Benedick and Beatrice Comments: “Song is about being in love and hating it hating love and that you love and ooough”

Sweet Talk (Saint Motel) Associated with: Benedick and Beatrice Comments: “THE benedick Beatrice song”

She Wants Me (To Be Loved) (The Happy Fits) Associated with: Benedick Comments: “After he is tricked into believing that Beatrice loves him. Sue me.”

I Want You To Want Me (Letters to Cleo, 10 Things I Hate About You) Associated with: Benedick and Beatrice Comments: “This song is playful and teasing and both Benedick and Beatrice definitely DO want the other person to want them. It just feels right man”

Barracuda (Glee cover) Associated with: The whole show Comments: “It just fits lol”

say no to drugs (lovelytheband, if we’re being honest) Associated with: Benedick Comments: “I see the song as being from Benedick's perspective. He is lamenting how people always taught him the things to watch out for, but never warned him about falling in love, which I think fits his actual arc in the play where he unexpectedly falls in love and finds it "strange.”

Over You (HOLYCHILD, The Theatrical Death of Julie Delicious) Associated with: Beatrice, Benedick, and Hero Comments: “This song to me, is so like Beatrice talking about herself "I'm a bitch, modern witch, student in the failure of love" and then about Hero "if it's done, he's not the one" and then Benedick "do you know what your love meant to me" (because I think it's implied that Beatrice and Benedick were together briefly before the events of the play). "I'm so hopeless and over you, want you to know it too" is SO Beatrice talking about Benedick about their "merry war" of words.”

The Taming of the Shrew:

Tongues and Teeth (The Crane Wives, The Fool in Her Wedding Gown) Associated with: Katherina Comments: “I mean cmon. cmon. cmon. cmon.”

Measure for Measure:

Ribs (The Crane Wives, Foxlore) Associated with:  Isabella and Juliet Comments: “Fuck men sometimes, man...”

A Midsummer Night’s Dream:

Rude (MAGIC!, Don’t Kill The Magic) Associated with: The whole show Comments: None

Trolius and Cressida: 

Achilles (Dhimira) Associated with: Achilles and Patroclus Comments: “Well the song is named after Achilles and I think it's already about Achilles and Patroclus without me analyzing it, but basically it's about Patroclus' death, and about how Patroclus and Achilles will follow each other anywhere.”

HYACINTHUS (Aidoneus) Associated with: Achilles and Patroclus Comments: “This song is supposed to be about Apollo and Hyacinthus, but I feel like it applies to Achilles and Patroclus too. "See how flowers grow beneath where your head once lay... they are crying for you still". Essentially, Achilles mourning Patroclus' death towards the end of the play.”

Histories:

Henry VI:

The Night We Met (Lord Huron) Associated with:  Margaret of Anjou and Henry VI Comments: “— but not really as it doesn’t fit their Shakespearean characterisation at all!  It’s a Margaret who really actually loved Henry panicking after everything begins to go to shit in the early 1450s :)”

Henry IV (Parts 1 and 2):

Down the River (The Crane Wives, Foxlore) Associated with: Prince Hal, Henry IV, Falstaff Comments: “this sounds like a Henry IV lecture to Hal in song form (also, Falstaff at the end of part 2???)”

Romances:

The Tempest:

Part of Your World (The Little Mermaid) Associated with: Miranda Comments: “sighs. Look it's just the vibes. It's like if Miranda was a fish lady.”

Lost! (The Lightning Thief) Associated with: The Tempest Act 2, Scene 1 Comments: “Group of dumbass men who have no idea what's going on and at least half of them qualify for every national parks discount”

Other:

Comedy, Tragedy, History (Akala, Freedom Lasso) Associated with: The entire Shakespearean canon Comments: “It’s a song that’s trying very hard to name every shakespeare play and it does a pretty good job at it”

#shakespeare #shakespeare playlist #hamlet #Macbeth #romeo and juliet #Othello #twelfth night #much ado about nothing #the taming of the shrew #horatio #ophelia #hamlet sr. #claudius #laertes #osric #rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead #rosencrantz #guildenstern #gertrude #the doctor of divinity is not enough of a character to get his own tag #lady macbeth #malcolm #macduff #lady macduff #romeo #juliet #benvolio #mercutio #brutus #i ran out of room to tag everyone

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook stumbles with his new pair of eyes.

> fluff (they’re just so cute okay) / wc: 2.8k

> warnings: jk mentions something about getting slapped in a sexy way he’s a menace that’s all

note: let me just get all my thoughts about jungkook in glasses out from my system please bear with me thank you T__T funny enough my eyes were hurting and watering like crazy while proofreading this srry

—

“wow! this is what i’ve been missing out on?” jungkook muses in wonder as he comes face-to-face with one of your books he snatched from the center table.

he widens his eyes when he lowers down his glasses, and then blinks excessively when he puts it back on.

“my feet hurt like hell.” you complain as you plop down next to him on the couch, all cozy in your pajamas.

you spent half the day killing time by exploring every inch of the mall because you had to wait for both of your glasses to be done. you had one of your glasses’ lens changed because the scratches have been too bothering you too much, while jungkook finally got his first prescription glasses.

he has been complaining about his blurry vision for quite a while now, and he agreed that he should get it checked when you told him that it might get worse if he doesn’t as soon as possible. however, despite reminding him many times, the plan kept getting put off and pushed to the back of his mind.

when you informed him about your plans of going to the store to get your glasses fixed, at last, the inescapable opportunity for him to tag along has come.

“how is it? you don’t feel dizzy or anything?”

you watch him flip through the book sitting over his crossed legs, observing that he can read the small characters from a considerable distance without squinting unlike before. he has tried on your glasses a few times in the past, but generally, you don’t let him wear it because it might not be suitable for his eyes.

“no, not anymore atleast.”

he grimaces as he recounts himself almost tripping on his own feet when he was asked to walk around wearing the fourth lens the doctor made him try on. it made everything look five times nearer, and a heavy headache weighed on him in a snap. if he wore those for a minute longer, he would’ve thrown up.

why you refuse to let him wear your glasses for longer than a minute— that’s when it fully dawned on him.

“baby, thank you for always protecting me.” he engulfed you in a tight hug as soon as he exited the small room.

“from what?” you squeaked in confusion, unsure hands rubbing his back. “do i need to fight someone for you?”

you chuckle at his displeased expression. “that’s good. you should always wear it so you get used to it, okay?”

“so i won’t be able to live without it like you?”

he smiles with his nose scrunched, turning his head to look at you. he gasps dramatically, and you tilt your head in question.

“i thought it was impossible for you to get even prettier in my eyes. but look at you!” he gently pinches your cheeks, and it takes everything in you to hold back a love drunk smile.

“i’m pretty?”

he leans in for a kiss, “divine. it’s like getting so near a painting you can see the brush strokes.” but then halts a few inches away from your lips. “guess we can’t do this when we’re both wearing glasses.”

it’s almost embarrassing; how you’ve shared about a million kisses with jungkook, and yet, you’re still holding your breath like this is about to be the first time you feel a man’s lips on yours.

“i’m not wearing mine, though?”

the thud of your book colliding with the table before it fell on carpeted floor would make you angry, but jungkook rudely interrupts before your train of thought could glide along the tracks, kissing off the anger from your mouth before you can nag at him.

frisky boy, trying to leave permanent marks on his glasses on the first day.

he pulls away with a pondering look, chewing on his bottom lip. “this is too big. i should get the same frame as yours. i’m already used to kissing with that between us.”

you sigh deeply, tucking his hair behind ears to get a good look at your boyfriend’s face. is jungkook wearing prescribed glasses one of your untold fantasies? maybe. not that you’re rejoicing that he fucked up his vision but . . . maybe.

in conclusion: men have their girlfriends walking fashion shows when shopping, and you have jungkook trying on thirty different pairs of glasses.

“hmm, not a bad idea. you do look good in those, too.”

he picks up his phone to check himself out through the front camera, messing around with his hair as an unshakable habit. “do you really like this one too?”

“i thought it was impossible for you to get even sexier in my eyes.”

“that much?” he unabashedly gives you a playful smirk, the familiar twinkle of his eyes lighting up the dim living room. he inches closer to wrap his arms around your waist, but his posture sags at your next words.

“nuh-uh.” you tut as your strict hands detain his forearms.

jungkook’s heart thunders upon seeing the expression you’re wearing, the kind that usually signals he’s about to hear excessive whining (said lovingly) and / or aggressive stomping against the floor (again, said lovingly). “before that, go pick up my book and pray to god that it didn’t get damaged.”

his head nervously cranes down to search for the book he thoughtlessly dropped earlier. he looks back at you with a guilty smile bordering on a wince, and everything that happens after that is a blur.

“please tell me there’s none-”

“a page got ripped! i’m sorry!”

he sprints towards your shared bedroom in a flash, and your hand that fails to pull him back drops to your side in exasperation when you hear the door slam shut. a click follows after several beats. flabbergasted, your jaw drops.

this man did not just . . .

“jungkook, you menace! you’re making me sleep on the couch?!”

“i love you! come to bed only if you want to slap me in a sexy way!”

you gasp, throwing a pillow at the door. you miss. miserably.

“are you into that now?!”

—

“how is yours not fogging up?” jungkook frowns at you from across the table, doe eyes hidden behind his fogged up glasses.

“your mask doesn’t fit perfectly. pinch the wire tighter around your nose bridge.” you chuckle, reaching over to help him out with his predicament. “like this much. that’s how you know you’re properly wearing it. if your glasses don’t fog up.”

the two of you watch as the fog gradually disappears from his lens.

“ohhhh. that was fun.” he takes the glasses off along with his face mask, satisfied that his problem was solved. “what if i’m wearing one that doesn’t have a nose wire, though?”

“you can still try pinching it around your nose, but usually it doesn’t work out well so you need to figure out wearing it in a certain angle.”

“should i just get contacts instead?” he looks at you with a hopeful smile, playfully teasing you with the idea you’ve disagreed with many times.

you raised the concern with jungkook constantly falling asleep wherever in the world he might be. yes, you love it when he falls asleep five minutes into cuddling you, be it you’re sitting or lying down. yes, he is an adorable sleeper. yes, you want him to get all the rest that he can. however, that becomes a problem if he starts using contact lens 24/7. especially if they’re clear or the same color as his eyes, you’re sure he’s bound to forget that he’s wearing them at some point.

“should we just get you new eyes instead?”

“come on now. that’d be too much money. you know how hard life is nowadays? the economy is going downhill!” he speaks with thick busan satoori, brazenly eyeing you up and down as if you just said the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

you pick up his glasses from the table to put it on him again. “that’s exactly why you should settle with what you have, mister.”

he laughs, and it’s the first time you see his bunny smile today. “alright, you got me.”

you thank the server after your food have been served on the table. these days, you and jungkook enjoy going out to eat instead of ordering in. it has been a mission to improve your food palate by exploring different dishes and cuisines. more than that, it seems that this is also a learning experience for your boyfriend. when he finds a new dish that he likes, he tries to make it in the kitchen himself when he finds the time. and well, you get to entertain yourself by poking around and acting like an assistant.

“baby, mine too. please.”

you shut off your eyewear case before reverting your attention to jungkook. alas, his glasses has fogged up again because of the spicy beef soup, which is still obviously piping hot. he is stuck in position, hand holding a spoon suspended in the air.

you never would’ve thought watching someone learn how to live with prescription glasses would be this engrossing. or maybe because it’s jungkook, and everything he does is endearing in your eyes.

you giggle at his cuteness, cautiously taking glasses off his face so he won’t spill the soup sitting on the curve of his spoon. you place it inside his case and keep it back inside your bag along with your own.

—

“baby! i feel blind! have you seen my glasses?” jungkook cries out as he enter the living room. “i even checked the car but it’s not there.”

you watch him walk nearer and nearer towards you, slowly chewing on the first bite off your hotteok. you’re sitting on the floor, and the task waiting to be accomplished on your laptop is left abandoned as you get distracted by a variety show on the television.

“which one?”

“our matching couple one.” he kneels beside you, a pout adorning his handsome face. “oh my god. maybe that’s mine you’re wearing?”

his gaze falls down on the pancake held by your hands, and it flickers back to your ingenuous eyes. this is an unspoken understanding between the two of you. and so, you take two bites in a row, twice as big as you normally would, mouth full and cheeks round. that’s when you offer the dessert to your boyfriend, nearly half eaten to expose the center, where most of the fillings would be.

he enthusiastically takes a bite from one side, moaning in satisfaction. “hmm, you can never go wrong with hotteok.”

you start pointing at the bedroom as you work your damn hardest to swallow the food.

“it’s at the-” you pause to take a sip from your glass of cold, turned room temperature, water. “the vanity drawer. i saw you put it there this morning while you were rushing.”

he scratches his head, fascinated with his own lack of thought. “should’ve asked you first before searching the entire building.”

“dummy-” you manage to utter before he’s guiding the hotteok back to your mouth. the sweetness of the brown sugar spreads in your mouth, balanced by the nuts and seeds.

“don’t say bad words, baby.”

you glare at him. “dummy.”

and he glares back. “brat.”

—

your attention returns to the television when jungkook leaves to pick up his glasses from the bedroom. the brightness of your laptop screen dims, signalling that the battery is dying soon. you click your tongue in annoyance. you reckon it’s understandable that it has been acting up since the device is already years old, but it annoys you nonetheless.

your boyfriend catches you in one of your not-so-finest moments. he looks straight at his front camera with a full grin while you furiously click ctrl and s on the keyboard over and over again, your glasses the original copy of his, sliding off your nose bridge. he has deemed it obligatory to take a selca every time you’re wearing the matching glasses together, and he still seems very much consistent with it two months later, so you just allow him to do it whether you’re aware or not. god knows how you’ve run out of poses.

a hotteok hanging from your lips? body language saying you’re about to throw away your laptop from the balcony? that’s new. that’s variety. that’s what makes jungkook unconsciously keep the smile on his face as he adds the photos to its designated folder, titled with the emoji wearing glasses and bunny teeth.

“is it just me or has that been for your lockscreen for more than a year now?”

he turns on his phone to take another look at his lockscreen, and he shrugs sheepishly. it’s a picture of the three of you on the couch: you, jungkook, and bam. it was a sunday afternoon. you fell asleep on your side, cuddling your boyfriend. baby bam, on the other hand, was cuddling your head. his paw resting on your cheek, head leaning on your ear. the only part of jungkook visible in the photo is his naked collarbones down to his tattoo sleeve, the rest of his torso being covered by a blanket.

“i know. i always end up coming back to it.”

this is one of your differences with him. you have a new lockscreen almost every week, immediately setting up whatever new photo you take of or with him.

jungkook, knowing this, asks: “what’s yours now?”

you pout your lips to point at the table. with your permission, he turns on your phone to see himself from yesterday— reversing the car with one hand on the wheel while looking over his shoulder.

he chuckles in amusement, raising his eyebrows. “this is the exact same picture as the last one you had.”

you stick out your tongue cheekily. “you’re wearing your glasses this time.”

—

magical pearls that grant wishes. you wished for an inflatable pool. the orange haired guy from slam dunk chasing you. running through the forest. scratches on your knee. a koala hanging on your arm. jungkook carrying you on his back to make a run for the bookstore. the signed book you wanted getting sold out twenty three seconds before you arrived. a tragedy.

you wake up with flashes of these broken up dreams lingering in your mind, lazily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. you find that the clock says 4:17am. you climb off the bed, slipping onto your fuzzy slippers.

however, you pause on your journey to the bathroom when you notice an object shine from your peripheral vision. you sigh, and a yawn follows.

“this is what i was talking about.” you mutter softly, more to yourself, more to the airconditioner that sleeps during the day to keep you comfortable throughout the night.

you carefully remove the glasses off his face. before putting it away in the case, you inspect the temples to see if they became bent and uneven due to him lying on his side. thankfully, they survived just fine. you’re not quite sure if the back of his left ear did, though.

you step out of the bathroom, and it doesn’t come off as a surprise when you make eye contact with a half-asleep jungkook reaching out for you.

“come back.” he whines, voice small and scratched from sleep you almost don’t catch his words.

“on my way,” you respond in a sing-song voice. you slip back under the covers, caressing jungkook’s hair and tangling your limbs with his. you were apart for three minutes at most, but you almost moan in relief when his warmth envelopes you in once again.

you gotta do something about the bathroom being too cold. even sitting on the toilet is painful.

your heart flutters when he decompresses in your hold, making himself smaller to bury his face on your chest.

poor thing, you think to yourself when you brush his hair and notice that the back of his ear has turned red. you’ve definitely experienced this pain many times in the past. still does sometimes. and it stings. you tenderly trace the area with your fingertip, pressing a kiss on the top of his head because it’s the only place your lips can reach.

aside from his glasses, he also left the night lamp turned on, so you quickly take care of that as well before closing your eyes.

“sleep more, my love. it’s still early.”

jungkook’s mind malfunctions and mistranslates your words. he forces himself to reply before succumbing to yesterday’s persistent weariness.

“i love you, too.”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference @laylasbunbunny @jjk-jeongirl + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

[adflictionem]

Rating: +18

Fandom: Hannibal (TV)

Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Tags: Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Murder Husbands, Bl*w Jobs, Hannibal Lecter's Very Active Cowper's Glands, Bruises, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Will loves Hannibal more than anything and treats Hannibal as his religion, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Sub Hannibal Lecter, or traces of it, Pet Names, Will calls Hannibal baby, and he loves it, Hannibal speaks Italian, Fluff, they are so in love it's diabetes-inducing, i love them so much your honour, Coming Untouched, Coming In Pants

Summary: Will blowing Hannibal in their living room post-fall. That's it.

Word count: 2k ish

AO3 link here

Notes: i have not posted fanfiction in forever. i hope someone out there enjoys this was-to-be-drabble that got out of control <3

Text under cut. Reblogs are appreciated <3

To Will, this was as close to Heaven as he would get, as he thought was possible — kneeled between Hannibal’s legs in front of their couch, hands squeezing his strong thighs with the intent of painting his skin with varying shades of purple, and his mouth full of his fiancée’s cock. It was wonderful, truly. The delicious stretch his throat made as he bobbed his head up and down around his monster’s length, his own saliva sliding down his chin, along with copious amounts of precum — so much of it, always, every time. It never ceased to amaze Will just how messy it could get with Hannibal, and his cock that never stopped leaking. Will was always more than eager to clean it all up, however; to take him into his mouth and swallow until there’s nothing left, or to ride him until he’s dripping, and even letting — often enough asking — the other man to paint his skin with his cum. It was never enough.

And how could Will ever get enough?

How could he get enough of anything Hannibal-pertinent? Of how his fiancée’s skin glistened with sweat, glowing with a hint of something akin to gold, an illusion crafted by the orange hue of the lit fireplace behind them; of the way his chest heaved as he sighed and moaned and even cursed under his breath when Will sucked the tip between his lips, pulling away ever so slightly to run his tongue over the slit —the act of getting the oh so sophisticated Doctor Lecter to lose his composure to the point of cursing always brought the younger man great satisfaction—; of the expression of pure bliss on Hannibal’s divinely sculpted features, and how the beautiful honey of his eyes was obscured nearly completely by black from how dilated his pupils were. The darkness was present, the monster within the man staring back at Will, but it was pliant, willingly submitting to his ministrations, aching for what Will decided to give, and the person-suit was nowhere to be seen.

The moan that escaped his throat sent vibrations all over his fiancée’s cock, who gasped and tightened the hold of his fingers on Will’s hair. Not to control and dictate the rhythm, but for stability, to have a level of grounding as Will accelerated his movements gradually. He pulled away completely, chuckling at the choked-out protest Hannibal gave, and ran his tongue up and down along the length of the older man’s leaking cock, gathering every drop, even as more came trailing down. Bless that man and his unusually active cowper’s glands. It was enough that often, they could forego lube altogether, able to use Hannibal’s slick precum as a substitute. It was messy and it felt so good.

Will was in charge, and he was aware it was an act of love. Pure, unbridled love, powerful enough to devastate Troy and all the gods that may make foible attempts at stopping the inevitable.

This was true power.

‘Will-,’ Hannibal whined, the lovely sound blending into a moan when Will focused his tongue on the man’s frenulum.

Gazing up into his monster’s face, Will smirked in a clear display of enjoyment at being the reason Lucifer himself was being reduced into a whimpering, supplicating mess. And just because he could and would get away with it without any long-lasting consequences, he almost halted his movements, taking to lap his tongue over the thick head of his fiancée’s cock in kitten licks.

‘Yes, love?’

Innocence was impersonated in his tone, but the malice in the striking blue of his eyes denounced his true intentions.

‘Please.’

‘Please what, baby? Use your words. You’re all about that anyways, aren’t you?’

Will cocked his head at Hannibal playfully. 

“Wicked boy.” The doctor sighed languidly. “You might be enjoying yourself more than I am.”

He directed a pointed glance at the wet stain on Will’s dress pants, the smooth fabric tight around his crotch. 

Will hummed, taking the leaking head between his lips once again, sucking lightly. He revelled in the hiss that blended into a whine that left Hannibal’s throat.

“Yeah. I enjoy sitting here and make an absolute mess out of my fiancée. beg Watch America’s most prolific serial killer submitting to me is something I’ll never get sick of.’ Will grinned, running his tongue along Hannibal’s shaft. ‘And you look so pretty when you beg, darlin.’

It was intentional. The use of the term fiancée, the southern twang at the pet name darling, it was all meticulously crafted to get Hannibal melting further into Will’s ministrations, and the way he moaned at those magic words brought Will a sense of victory. It was a trick the younger man often pulled, the usage of terms of endearment. It was both adorable and amusing how easy it was to get Hannibal to behave exactly like Will wanted by doting on him.

Will took his fiancée’s hard member between his lips again, hollowing out his cheeks, resuming the previous suction movements.

‘Mi demolisci e ricostruisci con ogni singolo tocco, sei il mio tutto. Mio splendido ragazzo. Ti amo tanto.’

Italian flowed from Hannibal’s lips graciously, his pronunciation ever so flawless, even with his shortness of breath and the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his throat with every word spoken. He could understand most of it, a feat he had none other than his partner to thank for, who had been teaching him the language. The surge of affection and love coursing through his chest held an intensity enough to rival the power of a thousand suns, and for a brief moment, he thought he might explode. Holding Hannibal’s adoring gaze as he fell apart under his touch solely bolstered his imminent combustion.

And oh, those were beautiful words. Words he never even dared himself to dream of for the years that lasted their cat and mouse game. You demolish me and rebuild me with every single touch, you are my everything. My gorgeous boy. I love you so. If death was to strike him in that very moment, Will Graham (soon to be Will Lecter) would go a happy man.

If I die, you die too, he had told the doctor once, two or so months after they fell into the frigid Atlantic. Back then, they were cooped up in a cosy little bungalow in a quiet island in the Caribbean, allowing their bodies to heal from their injuries sustained in the fight against the Dragon and their subsequent fall. They sat together, side by side on a couch outside, watching the steady crashing of the waves, breathing in the sea. That was a moment of realisation for Will. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a confession, it was a statement, plain and simple. A statement of the truth. 

He had never loved anybody or anything before the way he loved Hannibal Lecter. The mere concept of being capable of nursing the raw, unbridled love and devotion he felt for the man was unattainable to Will before they met. And now, Will could not bear to live without it, to live without his other half. He had tried for three years, miserably. Every night, he would lay beside his former wife and try to stop his mind from drifting to the man waiting for him in a cell, with a muzzle over his mouth, but he couldn’t. On the days he did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with Hannibal; at times, a tall, horned monster with claw-like fingers, wrapping around his throat and reminding him where he was, and at other times, he would leave forever, and Will was unable to stop him, unable to scream his name.

Safe to say, for those three years, he did not do much sleeping.

He was foolish to believe he could ever run away from a man like Hannibal Lecter. That he could replace him with someone so mundane. No one could ever compare to Hannibal, not even God himself. Hannibal was above that. Above God, above the Heavens, above any and all. He ignited Will’s body, mind and spirit with a mere grazing touch, or a lingering gaze. The monster that beat inside Will’s chest trashed in want to be with Hannibal’s own, unsatisfied with every moment they were not pressed together in some shape of form, even if by a light brush of hands, or lips upon a forehead. Mates. That’s what they were. One and the same, perfectly made for each other in all their destructive beauty, never one without the other. 

That is true, dear Will, Hannibal had answered, warm pools of amber eyes boring into Will’s very soul. And if I die, you die too.

We won’t survive separation again.

So it was, so it is, and so it will be. Being separated from Hannibal would be to have his very soul ripped out from his body, and he knew his fiancée shared the sentiment. They would murder any and all standing in their way back to each other, or die trying. And a death suffered by hands other than each other's was heresy. It would not happen.

‘Please, my darling boy,’ Hannibal pleaded, fingers digging into Will’s mess of brown curls. ‘Please, please. Undo me, my heart, my love, mia vita-.’ 

He stuttered in his words, moaning languidly and hoarse. 

This was going to be the end of Will. Hannibal, with that sultry voice of his dripping with pleasure, with sweat glistening on his tan skin, with his strong, broad chest heaving with each gasp and ecstatic sound, with strands of golden and silver falling messily on his forehead, with his beautiful, noble facial features contorted in bliss, and hazel eyes boring into Will’s very soul, asking for permission to cum. It was too much. 

The younger man pulled away briefly from his fiancée’s cock with a lewd pop.

‘Cum for me, baby, and keep your eyes on me. Need to watch you,’ he conceded, at last, the use of the pet name Hannibal claimed to hate but melted every time it was spoken being intentional in its purpose of getting the other man to give himself in to Will.

With that, his mouth was back at Hannibal’s hard, leaking member, resuming the previous suction movements, humming and moaning. The fingers in his hair twisted hard as the doctor came with a cry for Will spilling from his lips. Warm liquid filled Will’s mouth and throat in waves, and when Hannibal held his head down and thrust into his lips, he moaned. 

Euphoria hit him right then and there, unexpectedly so. His eyes shut as it washed over him, lips still wrapped around his fiancée’s cock. The orgasm held enough intensity to send tremors coursing through his body, to whiten his vision, and for a moment, he saw Heaven; it had Hannibal’s honey-eyes, his blonde, soft hair with grey skins, and the protruding apples of his cheeks. Or perhaps it was Hell that he saw, because his beloved had black feathered wings and blood on his divinely sculpted place.

Hell was a much better place to be, anyhow. Hell was freeing. Hell was home. 

When Will opened his eyes again, he was met with his Devil staring at him, a soft, fond smile on his lovely pouty lips. There was a finger stroking his cheek gently. 

‘Hello, Will,’ Hannibal greeted, voice warm and loving.

He pulled off the older man’s cock with another pop, earning himself a hiss. Will allowed himself to be pulled upwards, onto his fiancée’s waiting lap. When Hannibal brought him in for a slow, sensual kiss, he yielded automatically. He had made a mess of himself inside the expensive grey pants, but he did not care. All he cared about was Hannibal; his touch, his scent, his tongue. Will guided his hands to rest at the older man’s shoulders, gripping with just enough intentional force to bruise. 

Marks were part of their demonstrations of love and worship, after all.

Begrudgingly, they broke apart, simply because they needed to breathe. Will thought it was absurd that they could not live off each other and nothing else. Nothing else was necessary. Sometimes he wondered what they could do if they were not bound by these suits of flesh—that was a very Hannibal thought, he realised. It made him smile.

‘What?’ asked his Il Mostro with a smile.

‘Just thinking about how sometimes I think like you. Sometimes I’ll have these very specific thoughts that are as well-articulated as your speech, and I wonder if you’ve not just found a way to whisper them inside my brain.’

Hannibal chuckled. He lifted a hand to brush chestnut curls away from Will’s forehead, letting his thumb stroke the scar there.

‘I can say the same myself. Often I hear your voice inside my head, even displaying some of your signature bluntness, speaking words which are so unlike me, and yet I would never usher it away. You did say we are conjoined once, darling. I believe that now more than ever. We are one.’ 

The blond man brought him down for another kiss. Will’s chest grew warm with his words, searing him from the inside out. Loving Hannibal Lecter was beautiful destruction.

‘I love you. You know that, don’t you? Love you more than anything,’ Will breathed. He kissed his fiancée’s forehead, nose, cheeks, then his lips.

‘As do I, mylimasis. Forevermore. In this life and in what may follow.’

#nsft #will graham #hannibal lecter #will graham x hannibal lecter #hannigram #hannibal #hannibal nbc #fanfiction

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.” 

#hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #hannigram #hannigram x reader #the sommelier #wine #tw trauma #tw victim blaming #tw alcohol

[that-spider-witch]

On the topic of Book!Edward Hyde

Or rather: The topic of his existence (or lack thereof).

Browsing through the J&H tag, I’ve seen a lot of book readers be spiteful of every single adaptation of the character and its pop culture version because it misses the moral of the book: That Hyde and Jekyll were just one and the same, and that Jekyll was the one doing all the bullshit that went down and that Hyde was just a mask to keep his reputation intact.

Most of these rants go on to imply or outright accuse of any author doing the split personality take on the plot to have never actually read the original book, or that Edward Hyde never existing is something that the book leaves loud and clear, something irrefutably canon.

Having read the book too, I’m here to say: Yes and no. You could read the book and still get a “two character, one body” impression from it. Allow me to explain...

While the plot of “Jekyll is Good, Hyde is Bad” is truly bullshit and the very thing that the original novel rips into pieces, whether Hyde could be considered to have a will of his own is a little more ambiguous and it can actually be interpreted either way.

Note that I’m using the word “will” and not “personality”: Hyde is still Jekyll, they both have the same personality, but while Jekyll is a rational human being, Hyde is Jekyll but without the strings of societal norms, morals and impulse control holding him down.

Book readers who go by the take that Hyde never existed also claim that the book is very clear that the changes brought by the formula are just external: Jekyll is completely himself the whole time and “Hyde” is just a mask.

And this is true... At first. Depending on how you interpret Jekyll’s unrealiable narration, “Hyde” actually slowly develops something of a will of his own as Jekyll’s evil nature, given a body of its own by his dumb experiment, continues to develop.

Here’s a fragment of how Jekyll describes the experiment and the very first transformation:

“That night I had come to the fatal cross-roads. Had I approached my discovery in a more noble spirit, had I risked the experiment while under the empire of generous or pious aspirations, all must have been otherwise, and from these agonies of death and birth, I had come forth an angel instead of a fiend. The drug had no discriminating action; it was neither diabolical nor divine; it but shook the doors of the prisonhouse of my disposition; and like the captives of Philippi, that which stood within ran forth. At that time my virtue slumbered; my evil, kept awake by ambition, was alert and swift to seize the occasion; and the thing that was projected was Edward Hyde. Hence, although I had now two characters as well as two appearances, one was wholly evil, and the other was still the old Henry Jekyll, that incongruous compound of whose reformation and improvement I had already learned to despair. The movement was thus wholly toward the worse.”

“Edward Hyde” (who at this point still doesn’t truly exist as his own being and it’s just a mask for Jekyll to use) is evil because Henry Jekyll himself is evil. But while Jekyll-as-Jekyll has good personality traits as well as bad, Jekyll-as-Hyde is just everything that Jeyll finds evil about himself and nothing else. This paragraph also states very clearly that Jekyll’s intentions were never good.

If this was the only instance in which anything along the lines of “two characters as well as two appearances” was mentioned, then yes, there would be no room for debate on the whole “Hyde is just a fake identity and nothing else” because there wouldn’t be evidence of the contrary. It would be clear text.

Except that Jekyll, unreliable narrator that he is or not, also gives us evidence to support the theory that Hyde, while still not being a completely separate split personality on his own right, does develop a certain awareness of himself and a will to act somewhat separate from Jekyll’s. 

Of course, this all still falls on Jekyll’s own fault, and even if we consider Hyde as something of an alter, he’s still nothing but the scapegoat that Jekyll uses:

“The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise were, as I have said, undignified; I would scarce use a harder term. But in the hands of Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn toward the monstrous. When I would come back from these excursions, I was often plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity. This familiar that I called out of my own soul, and sent forth alone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign and villainous; his every act and thought centered on self; drinking pleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture to another; relentless like a man of stone. Henry Jekyll stood at times aghast before the acts of Edward Hyde; but the situation was apart from ordinary laws, and insidiously relaxed the grasp of conscience. It was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone, that was guilty. Jekyll was no worse; he woke again to his good qualities seemingly unimpaired; he would even make haste, where it was possible, to undo the evil done by Hyde. And thus his conscience slumbered.”

Something all book readers will be familiar with is that Jekyll’s narration uses “I” when writing about most of Hyde’s actions, while also mentioning both Henry Jekyll and Hyde on third person. Jekyll tries to dissociate himself from his crimes this way.

But... Whether also done by Jekyll to still reflect guilt from himself or not, the text also refers to Hyde as having a nature of his own, albeit one irreversably connected to Henry Jekyll’s own hidden desires.

“Between these two, I now felt I had to choose. My two natures had memory in common, but all other faculties were most unequally shared between them. Jekyll (who was composite) now with the most sensitive apprehensions, now with a greedy gusto, projected and shared in the pleasures and adventures of Hyde; but Hyde was indifferent to Jekyll, or but remembered him as the mountain bandit remembers the cavern in which he conceals himself from pursuit. Jekyll had more than a father’s interest; Hyde had more than a son’s indifference. To cast in my lot with Jekyll, was to die to those appetites which I had long secretly indulged and had of late begun to pamper. To cast it in with Hyde, was to die to a thousand interests and aspirations, and to become, at a blow and forever, despised and friendless. The bargain might appear unequal; but there was still another consideration in the scales; for while Jekyll would suffer smartingly in the fires of abstinence, Hyde would be not even conscious of all that he had lost. Strange as my circumstances were, the terms of this debate are as old and commonplace as man; much the same inducements and alarms cast the die for any tempted and trembling sinner; and it fell out with me, as it falls with so vast a majority of my fellows, that I chose the better part and was found wanting in the strength to keep to it.”

There’s a clear divide here, with Jekyll and Hyde having something of a different outlook on life, something that outright doesn’t make sense if we are to consider Edward Hyde as just Jekyll’s alias. 

Something to note here is that the divide between the two personas is not of a moral nature, but something much more mundane and selfish: To Henry Jekyll, his social status is everything, and his main drive to keep transforming into Hyde again and again is to enjoy a life of sin without repercussions. To Hyde, said social status can go to hell for all he cares, but still keeps the ruse because his concealment is ultimately necessary for his continued existence, something that the narration will go back to later.

After this point of the book, which is when Jekyll goes to sleep and wakes up transformed on his other body the next morning, the doctor becomes scared and goes cold turkey for two months, having decided to stop being Hyde forever and return to a normal life. It doesn’t lastlonger than that: Hyde returns not because he takes control, but because Jekyll turns himself into Hyde on purpose once again, by his own free will.

“I do not suppose that, when a drunkard reasons with himself upon his vice, he is once out of five hundred times affected by the dangers that he runs through his brutish, physical insensibility; neither had I, long as I had considered my position, made enough allowance for the complete moral insensibility and insensate readiness to evil, which were the leading characters of Edward Hyde. Yet it was by these that I was punished. My devil had been long caged, he came out roaring. I was conscious, even when I took the draught, of a more unbridled, a more furious propensity to ill. It must have been this, I suppose, that stirred in my soul that tempest of impatience with which I listened to the civilities of my unhappy victim; I declare, at least, before God, no man morally sane could have been guilty of that crime upon so pitiful a provocation; and that I struck in no more reasonable spirit than that in which a sick child may break a plaything. But I had voluntarily stripped myself of all those balancing instincts by which even the worst of us continues to walk with some degree of steadiness among temptations; and in my case, to be tempted, however slightly, was to fall.“

Something fun to note here: Jekyll describes Hyde, and/or himself when he’s Hyde, as being comparable to a child. First by merely noting that Hyde’s body is younger than Jekyll’s, then by comparing him to a “son” and Jekyll as the “father”, and now comparing the murder of Danvers Carew to a child breaking a toy. 

Speaking of the murder, Jekyll is 100% guilty of it: Even if Hyde was a completely different being with his own traits and goals, which he is not, Jekyll would still be responsable by virtue of willingly going through the transformation again like an idiot.

That being said, the text continues to give Hyde some semblance of personality:

“Hyde had a song upon his lips as he compounded the draught, and as he drank it, pledged the dead man. The pangs of transformation had not done tearing him, before Henry Jekyll, with streaming tears of gratitude and remorse, had fallen upon his knees and lifted his clasped hands to God. The veil of self-indulgence was rent from head to foot.“

From this point on, everything goes to hell: Henry Jekyll is relieved that now that Hyde is a wanted murderer, he now has no choice but to stay as Jekyll and leave that sinful double life of his finally behind (”Jekyll is the Good half” my ass!). But, surprise surprise! He starts to transform unwillingly, and now he needs to constantly drink the potion to stay as Jekyll. 

Fun fact: Do you remember which thoughts are the ones that trigger the first unwilling transformation after the murder?

“I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed, promising subsequent penitence, but not yet moved to begin. After all, I reflected, I was like my neighbours; and then I smiled, comparing myself with other men, comparing my active good-will with the lazy cruelty of their neglect. And at the very moment of that vainglorious thought, a qualm came over me, a horrid nausea and the most deadly shuddering. These passed away, and left me faint; and then as in its turn faintness subsided, I began to be aware of a change in the temper of my thoughts, a greater boldness, a contempt of danger, a solution of the bonds of obligation. I looked down; my clothes hung formlessly on my shrunken limbs; the hand that lay on my knee was corded and hairy. I was once more Edward Hyde.“

The thought that he, too, was just like any other man. Something that his Hyde half knows as a fact, but that Henry “I’m superior than all these lazy peasants around me because I’m rich... I mean, because I have active good-will” Jekyll considers undignified, and therefore, cruel or evil. O Sweet, sweet Victorian hypocresy.

And it is from here on out that the narration acknowledges Edward Hyde as being his own character somewhat, somehow, at least as part of Jekyll’s conciousness.

After the transformation and the visit to Lanyon:

“My reason wavered, but it did not fail me utterly. I have more than once observed that in my second character, my faculties seemed sharpened to a point and my spirits more tensely elastic; thus it came about that, where Jekyll perhaps might have succumbed, Hyde rose to the importance of the moment.”

“Then I remembered that of my original character, one part remained to me: I could write my own hand; and once I had conceived that kindling spark, the way that I must follow became lighted up from end to end.“

“He, I say—I cannot say, I. That child of Hell had nothing human; nothing lived in him but fear and hatred.“ 

“When I came to myself at Lanyon’s, the horror of my old friend perhaps affected me somewhat: I do not know; it was at least but a drop in the sea to the abhorrence with which I looked back upon these hours. A change had come over me. It was no longer the fear of the gallows, it was the horror of being Hyde that racked me.“

It’s curious how Jekyll’s narration uses “I” when looking back at Carew’s murder, and yet it is just from here on out that he’s oh so repulsed by Hyde than he uses He/Him pronouns for him. 

And, most of all, when he has locked himself up:

“The powers of Hyde seemed to have grown with the sickliness of Jekyll. And certainly the hate that now divided them was equal on each side. With Jekyll, it was a thing of vital instinct. He had now seen the full deformity of that creature that shared with him some of the phenomena of consciousness, and was co-heir with him to death: and beyond these links of community, which in themselves made the most poignant part of his distress, he thought of Hyde, for all his energy of life, as of something not only hellish but inorganic. This was the shocking thing; that the slime of the pit seemed to utter cries and voices; that the amorphous dust gesticulated and sinned; that what was dead, and had no shape, should usurp the offices of life. And this again, that that insurgent horror was knit to him closer than a wife, closer than an eye; lay caged in his flesh, where he heard it mutter and felt it struggle to be born; and at every hour of weakness, and in the confidence of slumber, prevailed against him, and deposed him out of life. The hatred of Hyde for Jekyll was of a different order. His terror of the gallows drove him continually to commit temporary suicide, and return to his subordinate station of a part instead of a person; but he loathed the necessity, he loathed the despondency into which Jekyll was now fallen, and he resented the dislike with which he was himself regarded.”

And what immediately follows is my favorite part of the book:

“Hence the ape-like tricks that he would play me, scrawling in my own hand blasphemies on the pages of my books, burning the letters and destroying the portrait of my father; and indeed, had it not been for his fear of death, he would long ago have ruined himself in order to involve me in the ruin. But his love of life is wonderful; I go further: I, who sicken and freeze at the mere thought of him, when I recall the abjection and passion of this attachment, and when I know how he fears my power to cut him off by suicide, I find it in my heart to pity him.”

This petty behavior of supposedly destroying and vandalizing Jekyll’s stuff to spite him is mentioned yet again just a few sentences later,along with the following line:

“This, then, is the last time, short of a miracle, that Henry Jekyll can think his own thoughts or see his own face (now how sadly altered!) in the glass. Nor must I delay too long to bring my writing to an end; for if my narrative has hitherto escaped destruction, it has been by a combination of great prudence and great good luck. Should the throes of change take me in the act of writing it, Hyde will tear it in pieces; but if some time shall have elapsed after I have laid it by, his wonderful selfishness and circumscription to the moment will probably save it once again from the action of his ape-like spite.“

This assertion from Jekyll that, as far as he’s concerned, he will be already dead when he transforms for the last time, is what closes the book:

“And indeed the doom that is closing on us both has already changed and crushed him. Half an hour from now, when I shall again and forever reindue that hated personality, I know how I shall sit shuddering and weeping in my chair, or continue, with the most strained and fearstruck ecstasy of listening, to pace up and down this room (my last earthly refuge) and give ear to every sound of menace. Will Hyde die upon the scaffold? or will he find courage to release himself at the last moment? God knows; I am careless; this is my true hour of death, and what is to follow concerns another than myself. Here then, as I lay down the pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I bring the life of that unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end.“

If taken at face value, these lines actually paint Edward Hyde as being somewhat able to think his own thoughts and do his own actions, while still just being the childish, “ape-like” part of Henry Jekyll’s mind. Emphasis on childish, not evil, the evilness is all on Henry. Edward Hyde is still nothing but Henry Jekyll’s psychological scapegoat, and the one that Jekyll technically leaves behind to deal with the mess he himself created by “dying”.

I’m not trying to get more people to interpret the book this way nor am I saying that the ”Hyde is not real and Jekyll is a lying bitch” take is actually wrong, because it is not. I’m just pointing out the book could actually be interpreted differently by different readers, and they’d still have sentences in the book to back their interpretation on.

Now, if we could all stop hating and throwing shade on every content creator out there who “got the book wrong”, that’d be peachy. 

#let people have fun. its not that hard. #the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #edward hyde #henry jekyll #dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #literature #gothic lit #this came out longer than I thought it would be

[sledgefuweek]

Each year we take a close look at the prompts for Sledgefu Week, for those who may be stuck for ideas or not quite sure about what the prompts could entail. Below the readmore are all seven prompts, as well as a short write-up exploring what they mean and some ideas to help get the creative juices going. Enjoy!!

Sickfic

This is a really popular and well-known fanfic trope that I feel probably needs little explanation, but I’ll write a little bit about it anyway! It essentially covers fic where one character is ill and the other cares for them -- it could encompass any kind of illness at all, (including chronic illnesses) and there’s a lot of room to get creative with it. You can go for angst, hurt/comfort, or fluff: it’s just a really good general prompt that I think works nicely to kick the week off!

It suits for Sledgefu pretty well, considering Snafu’s canon mild hypochondria, as well as the fact that Eugene’s dad is a doctor. It could be fun to lean into it: make Eugene play doctor for an actually-sick Snafu, and it could be just as fun to subvert it! There’s really endless options for canon fic: shrapnel wounds turned bad, heat-sickness, seasickness, illness from bad food or bad water or any kind of tropical disease you can think of (malaria is a big one!). You could make one of them (or both) a medic; you could genderswap them and write the gay field nurse fic this fandom sorely needs. And of course if you choose to branch out into modern AU you can begin to think of what might afflict them outside of a war setting: has Eugene been working too much and come down with a cold? Are they hungover, and need mutual care (and lots of takeout)? A lot of the time sickfic focuses on one character doing the comforting and the other character feeling unwell, but there’s nothing to say they can’t both be feeling shitty! I think we say this every year but there’s really no rules at all, you do whatever you feel inspired to do. With Sickfic, just be mindful to tag anything that others might be affected by eg. vomiting, blood, needles, etc.

Tarot

I feel like Tarot is pretty well-known to the Sledgefu fandom, or at least to those who like to write Snafu or his family a little witchy. In case you just have a vague idea of what Tarot actually is and what its purpose or origins are, I’ll explain it as concisely as I can! Tarot decks started life in Europe as playing cards, but eventually began to be used for divination. It’s made up of four suits, or the Minor Arcana, (Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles) as well as a twenty-two card Major Arcana (the imagery of which you’re probably very familiar with). Commonly, tarot decks and tarot reading is used as a means of communicating with the higher self, deities, or with the universe. They can be used as a way to see the future, answer questions, or to give/receive advice. There are different ways of reading them too, depending on how one lays out the cards: I don’t want to make this too wordy, but if you’re curious I encourage you to check out this site to learn more!

For writers, there’s a lot of places this prompt could take you! Probably the most obvious will be fortune teller fic; a classic. Lean into Snafu’s Louisiana roots and have him telling fortunes in the depths of the French Quarter, or go against the grain and have Eugene reading cards and palms and tea leaves as a practice passed down through his family. Or maybe more casual: modern AU Sledgefu flirting through amateur tarot readings with a deck picked up from a junk shop. If you read Tarot and have a connection to it, you can express that through writing! It’s a pretty open-ended prompt, especially if you consider some of the meanings of the cards; you could even write a story inspired by that! The Hermit: Snafu withdrawing, leaving Eugene on the train to spend the next few months in solitude, working through things. The Moon: Snafu and Eugene hitting a rough patch, hiding things from each other. The opportunities really become endless once you start taking the readings of the cards into account! And for visual artists, this must be such a fun prompt: I feel like it’s so a visually rich, whether you’re re-drawing the cards to encompass Snafu and Eugene within them, or making a collage based around some of the things mentioned above: fortune tellers shops, witches cottages, etc.

Trinket

Every Sledgefu Week we tend to have a couple prompts that are a little more open to interpretation, and this year’s ‘Trinket’ is one of those. It might be difficult to try and think of something to base a whole fic or piece of art around, but we really encourage you to let your imagination run wild! There’s already some great trinkets in the show itself: Eugene’s ring, the lighter that Gunny Haney gave him, Snafu’s stolen gold teeth, or their dog tags. Think of small, special objects that you might have: what imbues them with comfort or meaning? What makes you love them? You could have Eugene giving Snafu his ring, or have Eugene musing over war and death and loss while smoking a cigarette lit by his lighter. If you’re into Modern AUs, how could these objects carry through to modern day? Once you start thinking about it, the ideas start rolling in. Feel free to invent special trinkets for them: or maybe trinkets that they hate and want to get rid of, trinkets that remind them of bad times. Trinkets that remind them of each other, or family, or war. So much meaning can be held in the things we own, and I think it’s such a lovely concept to explore!

Crossover

So this prompt was born from the sheer number of suggestions we had for various movie, TV, and book AUs. We didn’t want to put them all to the poll and risk a lot of you feeling disappointed over the one you wanted not being selected, so thought it’d work best to condense them into a ‘Crossover’ prompt so everyone could do whatever they liked. So this is a very very broad one! It would be impossible for me to really go through the prompt and highlight some things that you could do for it, because you can really do anything you want to! Anything! It encompasses movies, video games, TV, books, musicals... if something tells a story, you can do a crossover. So if there’s ever been a film/book/etc. AU you wanted to do for Sledgefu Week but couldn’t quite get it to match the prompts, now is the time!

Vacation

A pretty self explanatory prompt, and one that I think can appeal to people who prefer canonverse and those who like modern AU too! Do you want to send Snafu and Eugene on the holiday of their dreams, or are they gonna be bickering in a gas station over who gets control of the map? Is Snafu gonna drive across a couple states to surprise Eugene by visiting? Is Eugene gonna do the same? There’s a lot of scenarios you can apply to the backdrop of them vacationing, and a lot of emotional journeys you can take them through! And for the canonverse crowd, you have the extra addition of letting them go have fun on an R&R, or taking a road trip post-war, visiting 1950s Paris... you can really do whatever you like!

Historical

This was another prompt like ‘Crossover’ that came from a lot of various suggestions that all boiled down to a similar thing: different historical events or periods. So like Crossover, I won’t linger too long on it (this post is long enough already) except just to say again: do whatever you’re inspired to do! There’s no rules here, you could even take everyone out of the Pacific and put them over in Germany: give them a different experience of war. In fact, you can do that with any war if you wanted to! Wanna do a M*A*S*H AU but made something else for Crossover? You could do it here! Want to put them in the 1920s? You got it. In the 1850s? Yeehaw, they’re cowboys now. 1969, Summer of Love? 1600s, make Snafu a prince? Literally the world is your oyster!

Horror

Past Sledgefu Week prompts have included things that could come under the horror umbrella (Supernatural, for example) but didn’t necessarily have to be made 'horrific’. For the ‘Horror’ prompt this year, we want to see frightening! Disquieting, uncomfortable; creations that either cross over with existing horror franchises, or lean on horrific things you come up with yourself. Horror movies, or TV shows, or books or podcasts or pieces of art all seek to elicit a sense of fear: this can be done by tapping into common phobias, or nightmares, those things which are universally and almost instinctively scary. We want to see things which lean into that, in whatever way you want to do it! 

I’m no horror media expert (not by a long shot) but the opportunities for this prompt are really vast simply because horror has so many subgenres to work with. You could go gothic horror; Dracula, Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights (a personal favourite AU -- Eugene soaked out on the moors, searching for Heathcliff-Snafu? Divine). Or you could go to the opposite end of the spectrum: Jennifer’s Body AU, Final Girl AU -- there’s no set way to do horror, in fact you could even bring horror into canonverse if you don’t like AUs. Think the Terror: some unknown beast lurking beyond the borders of their camp on Pavuvu, or Okinawa. Or you could even take the prompt entirely literally and explore the horrors of war and the toll it takes on them both. Please don’t feel stuck into needing to do Scary: horror is about fear and revulsion and dread, and these feelings don’t necessarily need to come from a haunting! (This is also a prompt ripe for monsterfucking, just FYI).

                                                - - - - - - - - - -

So that’s the prompts for this year! They’re all really really great, and have a lot of potential to make some fantastic stuff :~) And to reiterate something I said right at the start, there are no rules here! I think every year we normally get at least one person unsure whether their idea will be okay for the prompt they’d like to make it for, so I just wanna say here: don’t second-guess yourself! As long as it can be linked back to the prompt in some way or another (can literally be the vaguest way possible) you’ll be absolutely fine. We don’t vet submissions at all, especially not for their content relating to the prompts. All we ask is that you remember to stay respectful in what you’re writing, and when the time comes to post it, you tag and warn appropriately :~)

On the subject of writing respectfully, we’d like to just take a moment to link the document on mindful writing re: race and gender that was made last year. Please take a look at it, even if you read it last year! It’s always good to keep these things at the front of your mind, as fandom is a community sport and we want to keep it fun and safe for everyone involved! So thank you if you’ve made it this far through this whole post, check out the doc, and enjoy the rest of the run-up to Sledgefu Week!

#sledgefu #sledgefu week #mod talk #info #if you saw this post before yes you did no you didn't <3 it has the horror prompt on it now lmao

[yandere-romanticaa]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴡ ᴊᴇᴋʏʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇᴅᴡᴀ��ᴅ ʜʏᴅᴇ.

♥♥♥

A well beloved doctor living in London, Andrew has made quite a name for himself! All of his patients are very happy with his work as he is able to always diagnose them properly and give them the correct medicine - truly a divine blessing in this day and age. He's a cheerful gentleman in his mid to early thirties who always has a gentle smile on his face. He is very fond of children and he does not mind babysitting them whenever someone asks him to do so, making him popular with parents and single mothers especially. During the day time he is filled to the brim with work but he always makes time to have afternoon tea, chat with his servants, or just try to enjoy like in general. A truly kind man in the eyes of many!

Alas though, when darkness overcomes his manor a new side of the good doctor surfaces, a side that no one knows about.

And Andrew plans to keep it that way.

There are many, many things that the doctor desires, craves, needs. But he is stuck in the same place day by day as he is forced to play his role of the savior. Even the good doctor Andrew likes to indulge himself from time to time... But that indulgence has gotten out of hand. By sheer accident Andrew was able to create a special elixir which is able to shift him in to a completely different person. His body is different, his hair is different, everything is different. His psyche however, remains the same.

And Andrew uses this newfound knowlege to his advantage.

Dubbing his new alter ego "Edward Hyde", Andrew is pleased to do what he wants once the sun sets. He messes with the townfolk, he shamelessly flirts and seduces any woman he sees, he picks on the young and the poor, nothing is off the table. This becomes a habbit very quickly as Edward is soon well known among the city. Some flee and flinch at the mere mention of him while others scoff and prepare their fists for a fight. Things continue like this for a while until Andrew notices that whenever he changes in to Edward, his mind is no longer fully his. Even throught the day as he sits in his office he can hear a gruff voice at the back of his mind, telling him to just finish the damn paperwork already. He starts hearing this voice everywhere and he starts to think that he is going mad. The voice taunts him day after day until he finally turns in to Hyde. Only then is he able to feel some inner peace. Andrew soon starts to lose control over himself as the voice grows louder and louder, yelling at him and commanding him to do its bidding. Every day now turns in to a battle as Andrew struggles to get out of bed and face himself in the mirror... But that's the catch. On one fateful morning the reflection he sees is not his own.

It's Hyde's.

The glowing green eyes of Edward Hyde stare back at him as Jekyll does his best to hold his breath in. This can't be real, this can't be happening! By now Andrew is pretty much at war with this new persona he had made and he does not know how to stop this coflict. Both do as they please which contradicts their previous actions, making both Edward and Andrew more then a little suspicious to the public eye. By this point Andrew regrets having ever created Edward but it's too late now. Edward Hyde was a part of him now, a dark part of him which could not be released. The only thing Andrew could do was to keep him at bay even if he was bearly able to do so. This constant pushing and pulling was exhausting to both of them and both were more then ready for a release.

And their release indeed came, but not in the way they thought it would.

It came in the form of love. Love for a sweet darling, a twisted obsession and want over this special little lamb who stumbled in to their lives by sheer accident, at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Andrew and Edward remain greatful still.

The pushing and pulling dies down whenever (y/n) is in the room and their attitudes are completely different from each other. Oh, if only (y/n) knew just what sort of danger awaits...

Andrew Jekyll.

Ever the gentleman, Andrew always places his darlings needs before his own. He worries for his sweetheart constantly as he dotes on them, making sure that they are safe and happy. Did his darling eat today? Did his darling sleep well? He won't ever stop asking these questions whenever he sees them, he just can't help himself! He never shuts up and he always seems to forget what he is trying to say but that's okay, his darling doesn't seem to mind.

Andrew stays gentle like that for a while as he treats his darling like divine royalty which does not go unnoticed by the people around him. He hears his servants whisper many things once he turns his back but he can't help but to blush a little - he may act a little awkward but in reality he really doesn't mind.

Andrew is also willing to bend over backwards and break his spine to get his darling whatever their little heart desires. He has more then enough money then he knows what to do with anyway! He wants jis darling to depend on him, he wants to be darlings only one true protector. He wants to provide for his darling like a good husband would.

Andrew often loses himself in these little fantasies that he gets distracted from his work, cahsing him to mess something up or to accidentaly spill or destroy amything around him. It's a vicious cycle of endless pinning as Andrew just doesn't have the guts to express his feelings, much to Hyde's annoyance and amusement. Cracks will start to form deep within him as Andrew tries to restrain himself more and more whenever he is around his darling. His smiles are not entierly his anymore as he stares his darling down like a piece of meat. Andrew hungers for darlings love and approval which in a way, does make his darling a piece of meat to him.

No matter what he just can never get enough of his darling, ever. The cheerful smiles thrown his way are not enough, and good grief just the mere brush of darlings fingers against his own is enough to send Jekyll in to a panicked frenzy. He loses his composure right there and then as he is forced to look his darling in the eye and do... nothing. He can't do anything he desires, he can't grab his darling by the back of their neck and press those pretty little lips against his own...

He can't caress the love of his life freely in public.

Hell, he can't even touch them without someone making a fuss.

Everything, everyone, is slowly driving him mad.

His love is driving him mad.

Andrew's affection starts to turn conditional, he can only ever shower his darling with gifts if they behave how he wants them to, if they pay enough attention to him, which is of course never quite enough.

His sanity fades as lovesickness kicks in.

His patience is wearing thin. What's taking his darling to love him back already? Hasn't he done everything any ideal lover would do? He has done literally everything, it must be his darling! It can't be his fault! His soft spoken words soon turn sharper then any knife as he imagines that very same weapon in his hands, pressed against darlings pretty little neck. Bruised, bloody and broken, that's how Jekyll wants his darling to be now.

He wants to crush them in his love.

And chances are, he will give in to his temptations.

Edward Hyde.

Tsk, tsk, this man is quite the charmer. A real smooth talker blessed with a deeper voice then his more seemingly more gentle counterpart, Hyde is no stranger to suggestive comments and rough touches. His feelings ignite like flames, quickly and suddenly. They take over his heart and soul, burning him and leaving endless ache and want in its path.

It's a strange feeling. He doesn't know how to feel about it...

When he meets his darling he treats her just how he treats other women. He craves nothing more then darlings body but when darling turns him down Hyde feels intrigued. Playing hard to get, eh?

He is always up for a good challenge.

Hyde stops paying attention to other women and his darling soon becomes his prime time target - Edward cannot move on unless he has his darling. He provokes, taunts and teases, just itching to see darlings reactions to his schemes. Cuss at him, slap him, do anything you want! Just as long as your focus is on him that wolf like grin will never leave his face. He just loves it when his darling turns red, it's so cute he could kiss her. His provoking continues like this for a while until Hyde begins to realize just how some couples act around each other. His softer side starts to show itself and it's something to marvel at really.

Unlike Jekyll, who is soft at the beginning and turns cruel at the end, Hyde is the opposite of that. He doesn't want to just mess with his darling anymore, he wants to actually love and care for her, to actually be in a commited relationship.

His protective side is on full display and anyone with at least a single braincell should be able to get the message.

Hyde often wonders when the Hell did he become so soft all of a sudden. He wants this pain in his chest to stop but the only way it can is if his darling is with him. He doesn't need anyone else... He doesn't want anyone else.

Let's hope Hyde's darling has a strong stomach because he doesn't give a damn who he has to hurt. He and Jekyll are nearly nothing alike but if they share on thing in common, it would be determination.

Edward Hyde has found his prey and he isn't going anywhere without it.

Tags: @3rdgymbros, @eclipsezero, @ghostiebabey, @yandere-of-your-dreams, @howl-of-the-hunting-lambs, @yandere-wishes, @severnrsstuff, @twstdreams, @twst-soul, @hattress-of-spades

I did my best guys, I hope this was okay! First time making a OC, sorry if it's too similar to the original characters. As I write more stories for them I'll try to build them up more! And feel free to ask any questions if you have them!

#yandere #yancore #yandere male #yanderecore #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #jekyll and hyde #yandere andrew jekyll x reader #yandere andrew jekyll #yandere edward hyde x reader #yandere edward hyde #edward hyde #gothic #victorian era

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt.2)

(Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Reader) (ft. Bear! Taehyung) (Eventual Polyamory) 

Tags: graphic domestic abuse, minor body horror, blood, major character death, hybrid mistreatment, implied spousal rape, unplanned pregnancy, depression, nightmares, PTSD, Dog hybrid! Namjoon, Bear Hybrid! Taehyung, 

W/C: 5.2k

Song Rec: Hozier- to be alone

A/n: so yeah! here is the much-awaited second part of reasons wretched and divine! No jimin or yoongi in this yet. but it’s coming! 

- There is a moment when everything shifts, the world spinning off its kilter. You tearfully holding the pregnancy test in your hands, the horror welling up in your stomach that Namjoon feels in turn when it really really hits him what it means, what you’ve been going through. 

- Because he’s seen the hickeys, but he never thought- it never made sense- but now- You're hyperventilating, your breaths coming in deep gasps that rattle around your chest like a gale-force wind. Namjoon holds you up, stopping you from falling to the bathroom floor.

- Your lower lip quivers, and your shoulders to small for all the ache that lies between. You ghasp out his name “Joon- Joonie- this can’t happen- this wasn’t supposed to happen to me- if I have his kid- he’s never going to let me go.”  

- Namjoon wishes- wishes beyond anything he’s ever wanted- every desire he’s ever had because this takes precident- he wishes that the pregnancy test could be wrong. 

- But as he lets out his own choked breath even he can admit-  your scent is changing, it’s different now than it was when he first met you. slowly shifting to become somehow softer and sweeter, a change that he can’t quite place yet but probably would have been able to tell in a few days and now that he knows he can pinpoint it. 

- “Namjoon- I can’t” you sob and he pulls you to his chest, thanking his lucky stars that this happened when your husband was at work, that he’s not here for this. “I don’t want to raise them here- I don’t want this-” 

- Namjoon swallows back his panic, the part of his brain that was trained to deal with crisis taking over, knowing that once he suggests this the future might be out of his hands.  “We can leave- we’ll go- I think- We could leave now- it might be our only chance-“ 

- In a very haphazard way you grab as much as you can carry, and the money you keep around the house and a few things you can pawn maybe, you throw it in the first bag you can get your hands on. 

-  It’s probably better if you stay off the roads Namjoon’s says, and he knows that there are some train tracks a little ways away through the woods- you’ve heard the sound of it on occasion on the quieter nights- you could follow that. You might have an old college friend in the city you could stay with and Namjoon does too- the old captain, Namjoons old partner- maybe him. 

- Maybe he could take you to the police station and you could give a statement- and if the police system really was for protecting the people, maybe that would be enough to put your husband in jail.  

- You pile everything into one bag and don your most sturdy coat- in a panic you don’t think to check. Only to open the door to find your husband about to reach for the doorknob, come back from work early. 

- The way your husband just grabs Namjoon’s arm and twists it until it breaks will haunt you forever- the savage crack that started the worst night of your life.

- Namjoon’s scream echos off the walls. your husband closes the front door calmly. Freedom and safety so close and yet, so out of reach. Your hopes falling in a second. 

- What happens next isn’t pretty, the night passes on in a blur of pain and words that will haunt your dreams, and will one day make you reach for namjoon after- reassure yourself that he’s still there, that he’s still alive, that you both survived. 

- He goes for you after Namjoon’s incapacitated, his hand around your throat.  he manages to get both of you to the basement while namjoon pleads- “please don’t hurt her- I promise it was my idea-  please-.” neither of you is surprised when he pushed you down the stairs to the basement and then namjoon after you. Namjoon’s arm bleeding rivulets from where the bone pokes through. 

- The night moves on, syrupy slow and painful, and looks a lot like this.

- Namjoon with an inwardly piercing collar with barbs so that every single time he lunges to protect you it digs into his neck. Your husband screaming until his voice has turned hoarse.  “So you wanted her so bad that you were going to try to take her away from me? well, This is what your protection gets her!” 

- Blood in your mouth where you’ve bitten your cheek, spilling out onto your red lips when he hits you- the same cheek had touched Namjoon’s cheek just a few weeks ago, he remembers it vividly, and the gentle stroke of the back of his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear. And now- your husband grabbing you by your hair and shaking you like a leaf in front of Namjoon.  

- “Maybe after I kill her she’ll be reborn as a bitch and she’ll finally be at your level mutt. But then again you’re both already worthless.” 

- hours later your husbands cellphone starts to ring upstairs and he goes to retreive it. You’re crumpled on the floor motionless, Namjoon’s hand is starting to go numb. it’s hushed and cryptic at the top of the stairs, you can barely make out the words but you’re not really trying to do anything but muster the energy up to crawl to where namjoon’s tied to the wall, leaving a small trail of blood as you go. stilling when he pears down from the top at both of you. “I’ll deal with both of you later, get ready to meet the devil mutt.” 

- but this is already hell- There is already too much blood on your clothes, too much red.  

- Namjoon knows enough to know that the blood between your legs isn’t a good sign if you’re pregnant. You manage to crawl over to Namjoon and get him free just before you truely pass out and Namjoon drives you to the hospital, almost crashing the car several times (he’d never driven one before, and doing it with one hand wasn’t easy).

- They treat you and your baby. And Namjoon almost sags in relief when one of the nurses tells him you’re both okay- actually does fall over, the adrenaline finally fading and the true pain of his broken arm really hits him, sending him to his knees now that he knows that you’re safe- that you’re going to be okay. 

- They diagnose it as compound fracture; now in a thick and bulky cast. Cracking it back into place had hurt almost as much as the initial break. Namjoon is just being wheeled back to his room from the x-ray when one of the nurses comes leading two police officers. 

- Namjoon gives a statement to the police in his room while he waits for one of the nurses to come by and tell him that you’re awake and out of surgery. Since he introduces himself with his police number, they take his word as the truth (namjoon was worried- your husband was well known in town, but police do protect their own- even their hybrid units) 

- Then they leave, after they give Namjoon reassurance that a man will be placed outside your room until your husband is found and booked for the crime of attempted murder. A crime scene photographer will be coming by then as well- They’ll take pictures of your wounds later when you're awake- of course.

- A nurse hovers, and namjoon shoots up out of his wheelchair when she says that you’re ready for him, that you’ve been asking for namjoon and that you’re awake. 

- When Namjoon sees you in the hospital bed, the light of morning streaming through the window across your bruised face, he falls into you. Crying heavily into your lap as the stress and fear finally breaks from the day before, the nurse standing barely pausing as namjoon breaks apart. As Namjoon strings his good arm across your waist and gets as close as he can to you, you reach out to him too- hand fisting in the back of his hospital gown as strong as you can with how bruised up you are. 

- “I was so fucking scared- and it’s-“ “it’s finally over,” you say, more than a little weepy yourself. Namjoon pulls himself up onto the bed so that he can press his forehead against yours, an uneasy smile tugging on his lips, cheeks stickey with tears. 

- later, with you leaning against Namjoon’s good side, your cheek against his bruised collar bone, the officers come by to guard outside your door. And they must have you stand so that they can take photographs of your injuries. Namjoon refuses to leave the room when they do, even though they got a woman police officer to take the photos. He won’t leave you alone now- not when your husband is still out there. 

- He turns to the officer, “is there any word on the suspect yet?” it feels so much better to call him that, and Namjoon is anxiously anticipating seeing your torturer in handcuffs. The woman nods, “they should be taking him in now”

- But they aren't. 

- The police officers arrive to the farm to find him still absent, the farmhouse empty with all the lights on, door open, exactly how you left it. His car is missing as well. It takes them a few hours before they find it parked just off the interstate The next morning. 

- it takes them even longer to find your husband at the bottom of a ravine a few hours later, a bullet in his back and one in his skull.

- You and Namjoon are suspects at first but since they have video footage of you both at the hospital around your husband’s time of death you’re mostly cleared. No one mourns the loss of your husband, least of all you and Namjoon.

- You linger in the hospital for a few days, the doctors just want to make sure that there really isn’t anything wrong with your baby. And they allow namjoon to sleep in your room in your bed once he makes it clear that he will make himself a nusance if they don’t.

- Namjoon’s old captain comes to visit, Namjoon is surprised, but he guesses that his old precinct must have been called and given his id number after the police got involved. You’re still asleep, namjoon seated when he knocks on the open door. 

- They talk softly at the door for a long while, until your stirring sleepily and reaching for namjoon. and namjoon sees the old captain's eyes darken when he sees the fading black bruises on your cheek. The stitches at the top corner of your lip that will probably leave a scar. “Have you found somewhere you want to be?” Namjoon nods, smiling gently at your sleeping form. “yes, I believe I have.” 

- The old police chief is the one that drives both of you back to the farmhouse, your introduction is brief and a little less than ideal as you’re still in a fair bit of pain. Both of you get more tense as the farmhouse comes into view, the rolling vacant hills and the yellow police tape blocking the front door. But you both don’t really have anywhere else to go other than here. 

- “He deserved what he got,” he says to Namjoon before he pulls out of the long driveway. If anything Namjoon wishes he was the one who’d done it, but you both have your freedom now so Namjoon will count his blessings and take your husbands mysterious death as one good thing. 

- As a result of your husband’s death, you become very very wealthy and inherit not only the farm but Namjoon too. “You know, if you wanted your freedom I’d let you go, even like- get you an apartment and find work for you somewhere else or-” 

- “Don’t be ridiculous I’m staying.” he’s mad at you for about half a day because of that, spends an afternoon angrily throwing things into a bunch of bins to be put in the attic. How could you even think of letting him go? where else would he want to be but here helping you- especially after the last few months? Now that it’s over things are...not good but strange in their emptiness. 

-  But you had to offer, you had to ask him if he wanted to stay with you, you don’t have anywhere to go but this house, and it isn’t exactly filled with the best memories, even if your husband is gone. 

- The first night you and Namjoon walk into the house and just sit for a while, realizing that this place will never be hell again, if either of you have anything to say about it. 

- You live the first few days after the funeral in a fog, but then when it breaks, it’s when you go into your husband’s old den, where he kept his guns, and decide to sell them all- you have no use for them anymore, you don’t want them anywhere near here.  

- Then you tare away all of the modern things and the decorations your husband put in the farmhouse.  Namjoon finds you burning your wedding photos in the fireplace, and just says, “What can I do to help?”  

- You point at the fine china plates in the cabinets, and you have the vivid memory of your late husband backhanding you across the face after you’d dropped one. “Take care of those.” 

- You cracking open his expensive bottle of champagne for Namjoon, giving it to him because you can’t drink. You dance in the living room shattering glass after glass and plate after plate into the trash bin that Namjoon brought inside. You throw your old mattress out the top floor balcony and drag it onto the gravel. Namjoon pours gasoline on it and both of you shout and crow as your damned marriage bed burns and burns under the stars.

- And for a moment, the two of you are so gloriously free that it’s almost like the last 6 months never happened. Namjoon looks over at you across the fire, your cheeks finally glowing like he’s never seen and Namjoon yearns, his head spinning with alcohol- the first time he’s ever been drunk and he realizes he wants you- needs you. And maybe it’s wrong- because you’ve just gotten out of that hell of a relationship. 

- He doesn’t have to want- not for long. 

- Because that night, you drag Namjoon’s mattress out of his room, and put it next to the single mattress from the guest bedroom side by side in the living room. You sleep with Namjoon there, cuddled up under his arm feeling safer than you ever have before. Falling asleep with a smile on both your faces. 

- Namjoon’s never had a home but he can feel himself start to carve one out here with you.  

- You and Namjoon wake up early and watch the sunrise over the hill, you drive into town and buy your weight in wildflower mix spreading it along the fields that your husband kept prim and proper- because who needs plain grass when you can have flowers? When you can have queen Ann’s lace, snapdragons, cosmos and buttercups in excess. Filling jam jar after jam jar with color in your white and black themed house.

- But then the nights get longer. And the two of you realize that your husband might be gone, but the memories never will be. One night Namjoon is woken by your screaming. He never sleeps deeply anymore, is always twitching awake from some nightmare. His arm might have healed, but there is always a lingering fantom pain, a slight numbness in the tips of his fingers that he feels when he reaches out to help you button your jacket, or flick of bit of fuz off of your shoulder, or gently tug your hair from where it’s gotten snagged. 

 - most nights you thrash around in your bed until namjoon shakes you awake. You sob into his arms and fall back asleep eventually hiccupping even in your sleep, clutching onto namjoon like he’s still the only good thing in your life. 

- Namjoon just holds you, running his fingers through your hair realizing that it’s going to take more than just a few weeks for the weight of what you’ve been through to really fade. The nightmares come almost every single night without fail, Namjoon moves into your room- the guest room for now- though you’re in the middle of repainting the master suite. 

- It gets so bad that you stop sleeping at night, twitching awake when you fall asleep and staying up to watch late-night television no matter how much Namjoon asks you to please come to bed. Namjoon wishes he could just hold you and make it all better but it doesn’t work that way.

- love won’t fix this, even if Namjoon will love you in whatever way you let him. even if it will always be this way- just namjoon and you gently and carefully takeing care of each other. 

- Sometimes you go easily, and other times the shadows under your eyes are so deep that he sits on the couch with you (an old velvet thing you found in one of the back of the barns and pulls you to lie your head on his lap, running his fingers through your hair- the only thing that makes you relax these days. For a little while, the way he can see you pleasantly shiver, the tension slowly receding is enough. 

- “Did you know I used to dream of doing this- back when we used to hug in the hallway at night?” he says one night when sleepiness has tempted to think confessing might be a good idea. You turn your face from the tv. “No- you didn’t” you say, a small smile tugging on his lips, tempting ideas that he shouldn’t be thinking, Namjoon should give you your space. 

- You don’t sleep when you can avoid it. It gets so bad that Namjoon gets worried, he begs you really to tell the doctor. There isn’t much that they can do safely with you being pregnant, not much medication that’s safe to take. But sleepy time tea, melatonin, and therapy twice a week on Monday and Friday do wonders too. 

- Namjoon brings you your sleepy time tea every night, and he can judge if you’re going to go to sleep by the amount your hands shake when you take the cup from him. 

- You get better, the flowers begin to bloom with spring, and your belly gets a little rounder at the front a tiny bit noticeable just enough to show if you know- if you’re looking for it. Namjoon can’t stop looking at it, something pecular and soft digging it’s hooks into his chest, and you never seem to judge or be uncomfortable with the affection you see in his face. 

- on a cold night, one of the few, you and namjoon sleep closer than usual, his nose bauried in your hair, his arm slung around your waist. his hand open to cradle your stomach- just a little, just a little bit protective, as much as he dares. that night you don’t have nightmares- you sleep straight through till morning for the first time in a verry long time. 

- He thinks you’re finally getting better until he wakes in a thunderstorm and finds you standing in the grass underneath the torrent, shivering in your thin clothes. Your shoulders are shaking and your large white shirt is sticking to your skin, your lips are turning blue.

- “Honey, come inside, get dry,” his hands smooth over your shoulders, a whine low in his throat. Recently he’s gotten more comfortable with showing his lupine instincts again. After so many years holding them down. his tail hangs low between his legs. ears pressed against the side of his head. 

- He doesn’t like the way you’re shivering. Doesn’t like the way that your eyes are staring off into space, angry and tear filled. Like you can barely tell that Namjoon’s there, so lost in the painful maze of your own memories that he can do nothing but stand and wait. He’s just about to say your name again when you speak. 

-  “Namjoon,” you say, your voice shaking, angry, teeth gritted, and Namjoon catches a little bit of your sweet scent, twined with pepper strong anger, you’re furious under his gentle fingers, looking to wipe away the warm tears that mix with the cold spring rain. “This can’t be all there is, this can- I can’t just be this, there has to be something good, something better to come out of this.” 

- You feel so cheated, none of this is the way you wanted it to be, your life, your first kid, you didn’t want to resent them- the life already nestled with in you- but you did. Or maybe resentment isn’t the right word for it- maybe fear that you would resent them clouds your judgment and makes you unsure...if you even should keep it. 

- Even if you know you want to, you’d always wanted to be a mom, and despite the fact that the child is your exhusbands. You know it won’t feel like that forever. 

- And though you thought that maybe- you’d be doing in alone. You look at Namjoon and know...that he’ll be there, probably, in all likelihood, in all hope- you think he’ll stick around. You’d never force him into any sort of role he didn’t want. But his hands when he touches your stomach feel like a balm to ease away your worry And fear of being a single parent. None of it seems so weighty with him around, with him looking at you so tenderly. 

- Maybe in another world, another timeline, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you where suposed to have met Namjoon first. You’re sure of it sometimes, that your life was supposed to be different and that nothing was supposed to go this way. You feel bitter and angry, but the only person to be angry at- the only person you want to scream and shout at- is 6 feet under already. 

- Not for the first time, you wonder who killed your late husband. You wish you could take them out for coffee or maybe cook them a nice meal.

- (Maybe one day you will get the chance) 

- You thought after he was gone everything would be okay, but you never expected it to be this way for everything to feel terrible even if you were free, for things to be this bad, to be haunted by the memories like a house would a ghost.  

- You look like a ghost, wan and thin and pale, soaked to the bone.

- Namjoon tugs you inside feeling his heartbreak when you go into his arms limply and easily, like you don’t know how to do anything but follow his hands. namjoon a benevolent puppeteer. He gets you inside, gets you warmed up with a bathtub waiting. when he goes out to the kitchen to get started on some tea he sees that he left a light on out in the barns, twinking dimly with the others down at the bottom of the hill. 

- As he hovers his brain turns over all of the empty and unused space, the barns, the chicken coup unused, even the sturdier show room. There is so much room on the farm, so much space.

-  Inside his head, an idea blooms like a flower. small and yellow and hopeful. 

- He dosne’t say anything at all when he helps you out of the bath, still in a fog, dries you off with a warm towel, he’s a little detached But inside his chest, crackling in his lungs, buttercups take root like hope as he thinks. 

- Even as he dries’ your hair and you dry his, your hands lingering over his ears and rubbing. “you take such good care of me” you say, but he’s barely paying attentionl. Would it really be so easy? could it really be done?

- It’s not until later, with you streached out on the bed beside him, your hand lingering an inch away from his on the bedspread. Both of you have been awake for a while, just listening to the thunderclaps outside and enjoying the quiet warmpth indors that Namjoon murmurs the words into open air.

- “I think have an idea, something that we could do to...help I guess. to make this good” you sit up and look down at him. and he lets himself cradle your cheek in one palm. “i want to make this better for you.”

- You swallow, and prod, and namjoon talks quick, words fast and puncy as they come out freely. Suddenly the idea takeing form as you nood along. a bright understanding blooming in your eyes. and your replies- fast with excitment as you realize, and build upon his idea. 

- “We could change the barns- we could make it like- bunk rooms-” “yeah and then we could get the kitchen like- we don’t even use the second sitting room- make it bigger-”  - You decide to open up your farm property as a home for wayward hybrids, strays, and those fleeing abuse. you’ll take anyone really, anyone who needs a safe place. 

- The barns on your property are already half renovated, nearly ready and easily transformable from being a garage for your late husband's expensive car collection to housing. You sell the antique car collection for no small amount of money, and even sell his newer car too, keeping only the old red truck, and a smaller more fuel-efficient sedan for what you might need. 

- It’s a good thing your late husband had a penchant for things expensive, the barns are already refurbished and winterized (the winters don’t even get that bad here- it rarely ever snows in any significant amount). They’ll be warm enough you think for the winter, but seeing as its early spring. You know It will be a while before you’ll find out. It’s easy to turn the lower floors of barns into common space and the above hayloft into rooms full of bunk beds. 

- There is a set of train tracks a few miles behind your property, and you and Namjoon chart a path through the woods, drawing arrows on the trees with white spray-paint back in the direction of your farm. At the place where the forest breaks out into train tracks, you hang a sign. “Safe place for hybrids this way: free food and shelter.”  You put up a few other signs along with a shitty map that Namjoon draws at bus stops and along the bridges of major interstates.

- Namjoon rests a hand on yours as you drive away from another truck stop.  letting you know that he’s proud of you with his soft smile and his dimples poking through. You reach over prodding at them with a soft look on your own face.

- “I didn’t know you had dimples,” you say, because in truth- you don't think you've ever seen him smile so wide. he makes a noise on the back of his throat and keeps looking at you like that. 

- There might be a little bit of blush on your cheeks as namjoon keeps looking, soft and gentle, but you keep your eyes on the highway in front of you. 

- It takes a few days, but then the first few start trickling in. You think you might be a little overbearing, a little over Eger to open up your home, because the first few hybrids don’t stay for more than a meal, eyeing Namjoon and the scars on his face With wary eyes. Even if he’s just an over-excited little puppy, he is a little too intimidating looking. 

-  The disappointment when they eventually move on crushes you and Namjoon. And after a little, while he makes himself more resigned, a little colder and shyer around the other hybrids. 

- And then one afternoon while Namjoon helps you in your garden on the edge of your property (which has been completely unattended in the last month since your husband's death) you hear it, someone wading through the stream. Muted chirps of “ow ow ow- stay away from me-” Namjoon comes upon the person on the riverbank, his arm swelling from countless bee stings, face scratched up by brambles and two curved ears sitting furry in his long tangled hair.

- “I’m Taehyung,” the bear hybrid tells you as you give him an ice pack and Benadryl to put on the bee stings (which he got when he tried to raid a bees nest for its honey). He eyes the fresh teal paint and mortar dust disaster of your kitchen (in the process of being renovated and widened substantially, made larger for a future you only hope you have). 

- You feed him and give him a cleaner pair of clothes to wear. You offer him a spot in your house or in the barns after dinner, and none to surprisingly- he picks the barns. Makes him more comfortable he says, makes him feel like he’s not intruding. 

- The next day you meet him out in the field, early in the morning before the sun hangs high and shines hazy and golden. You’d been Intent on waking him for some breakfast Only to find that he’s already standing looking out over the backfield, twiddling a daisy over his fingers. Looking out in wonder at the sheer magnitude of flowers. 

- But there is a sadness and longing in his expression, Taehyung looks at everything around him that is lazily and quiet and simple and wants to be apart of it with every fiber of his being.  

- “Is it really okay if I say here more than you’ve let me? Are you sure I won’t impose at all?” he turns- half panicked with worry that you’ll turn him away. “I can help you with things around the house? To pay my rent and my food if you only let me stay- just please,” 

- You can’t help but notice the darkness in his eyes, and the paler band of skin around his neck that must have been from a collar. You don’t know what Taehyung’s coming from, but it’s obvious he needs a place to be safe, to take a rest and be still. You saw his shoes yesterday, how worn out on the bottoms they were- you don’t know how long he’s been running, but he’s certainly running from somewhere. You want to give him a space to heal a little, from whatever put that darkness in his eyes.  

- “Of course! you can stay as long as you want Tae.” Taehyung swallows past a thickness in his throat, as you both watch a little bird flicker from out of the woods and land on a nearby fence post. small and blue, it trils a brief song in search of a companion and then flutters off. (You can’t remember ever seeing a songbird on your ex-husband's property. Maybe they too have returned along with the flowers.)

- Taehyung’s hands shake as he gently tucks the daisy he cradles behind your ear, and then shyly stuffs his fists in the pockets of Namjoon’s old shorts. “No one’s called me Tae in a long long time.”

#bts hybrid au #bts fanfic #kim namjoon x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #hybrid! kim taehyung #hybrid! kim namjoon #hybrid! namjoon #hybrid! taehyung #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid fanfic #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #bts bangtan #bts #bangtan sonyeodan #bts fanfiction #bts fic #hybrid au #bts poly hybrid au #bts poly au #bts polyamory #bts poly fic #bts poly #bts hybrid #bts hybrid fluff #bts tw #tw:rape

[asterekmess]

1-4 What the fuck is a true alpha? A recurring joke? A convenient plot armor? A desperate attempt to make an irrelevant character look ‘relevant’ despite canon showing otherwise? Scott/Posey Stans think that Scott McCall has a right to command and dictate everyone’s life because he is a tWuE aLpAhA; Scott has a right to play judge, jury & executioner with his “inferior” friends, and he has a right to determine what is wrong or right based on his own benefit and bigoted black and white mentality.

2-4 If you think that this sounds an awful lot like the Divine Right of Kings, you are absolutely right. An unearned (and undeserved) mystical superiority or blessing, a fabricated sense of purity, goes a long way in ameliorating Scott McCall’s Failures and Fuck-ups. And like kings who rule by Divine Right, he can do as he likes. Which is why Scott can patronize and lie to Allison and Kira to control them, assault Isaac and Jackson due to his own pathological jealousy and possessiveness,

3-4 use Hayden (Liam’s girlfriend) as bait against the Dread Doctors without her consent to play the hero, dehumanize Stiles and accuse Stiles of being a violent, dangerous, inhuman monster and serial killer for daring to accidentally kill his abuser in self-defense, sell Derek and his Pack to the hunters, refuse to tell his girlfriend Allison the truth about her mother’s death to look ‘good’ in her eyes,

4-4 plot/conspire with Gerard Argent and Deaton behind everyone’s back to violate Derek Hale’s boundaries, bodily autonomy and consent for his own benefit, claim that the Argents had a reason to slaughter the Hales (including HUMANS and CHILDREN) in front of Derek Hale and of his comatose uncle – and then Scott/Posey Stans will consider everyone kicking Scott’s whiny, toxic excuse of an ass to the curb and not giving an utter crap when Scott died in Season 5 as an act equivalent of treason

I put all your asks together so I didn’t get confused (which is v likely to happen) and I thank you for numbering them for me. <3

The concept of a true alpha...sigh. Look, I see the intention, okay? I see the goal, the idea that you don’t have to kill someone to become an Alpha. That there can be “Good” Alphas who haven’t killed anyone. But I also think it’s lazy writing. This is one the few instances where TW hadn’t actually shot themselves in the foot yet. They gave us so little information on werewolves that they never actually said that the only way to become an Alpha was by killing another Alpha. They could very easily have said “Also, you can become an Alpha this other way” (Be it by passing the Alpha spark down to children willingly, or being beaten in a special kind of combat, or through a ritual of some kind)

But they didn’t just want another way to be the Alpha. They wanted a way that didn’t take any effort. It would be too hard to introduce another Alpha that would give up their spark to Scott, or to have him put in the effort to do a ritual. They needed a way to make Scott an Alpha without any additional effort. Part of me honestly wonders if they did it because they knew they’d lost a lot of Scott fans by the end of Season 2, what with all of his betrayals and lies and what he did to Derek. They needed a way to reaffirm that Scott was the good guy, so they made up the True Alpha thing and said “Look! He’s so pure and goodhearted and he has so much good will, that he can’t even help but become an Alpha”

They demonized werewolves by reducing them to murderers who had to kill for power (In Derek’s case it was survival, and i’ll fight for him.) and then held Scott up as a saint because he managed it without killing.

Except that he had killed. Or at least tried to kill. How could he be this pure person they claimed if he spent weeks poisoning a cancer patient, lying to everyone around him, and he took Pleasure in it. He was Proud of himself for his lies and his tricks and for getting back at Derek by hurting him. That’s the kind of behavior we expect from Stiles, who is established as a morally gray character. You cannot have Scott do something like that and then make the claim that he is morally pure.

Once Scott finds out from Morrell that killing someone will take away his True Alpha status, he goes out of his way to avoid killing people even when it puts others at risk. This ISN’T an Avatar moment, okay? He doesn’t summon the power of his ancestors and render the villains completely incapable of harm. He just fucking lets them go! Deucalion gets his fucking eyesight back for fuck’s sake. He was MORE dangerous than before and they let him go! (I know Derek was part of that, but I’m pretty sure Derek was possessed by a pod person by that point)

He never said he’d behave. No one checked on him or watched to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone. They just let him leave. He could’ve just rebuilt a new Alpha pack. Could’ve killed dozens more people.

Jennifer would have too, had Peter not killed her.

Even better, he brings Ethan and Aiden into his pack. They walked right up to him and told him “Everyone is hunting for us because we killed a ton of people” and he just took them in? Gave them protection from the families of the people they’d slaughtered? All because they followed him around for a bit and said “We’ll only kill for you from now on.”

And this is why I get so frustrated about the blue eyes. The concept of ‘taking an innocent life’ is so fucking vague? Scott is indirectly responsible for countless deaths throughout the show. Whether by inaction or because the people doing the killing were acting on his orders, or whatever the fuck else I can’t think of at the moment. It doesn’t matter if he hasn’t intended to kill anyone. He should not still have his True Alpha status. Period. But he does, so apparently Scott can kill as many people as he wants, actually, so long as he doesn’t do it with his own claws and teeth. Or maybe he just can’t kill a human who hasn’t killed anyone else? Who the fuck knows.

I’ll say it again. If The Alpha spark can be used to heal someone, why didn’t Scott use it to save Allison? She wasn’t cursed. She was stabbed. He could’ve done the same thing Derek did. Peter even said that it can be done on accident. All it requires is that he do the pain drain and not stop when it starts to hurt.

To be quite honest, I don’t blame Scott’s True Alpha eyes for his entitlement and his belief that he can do no wrong. He held that same notion way before his eyes ever turned red. The eyes are to blame for no one else calling him out for his actions. You’re told by the only fucking person who seems to know what’s going on in the supernatural world that this kid’s eyes turned red all on their own because he is meant to be an Alpha. That it’s because he is good and pure and it’s a sign of his worthiness. He literally was just gifted extra power, apparently because he’s the only one worthy of it. How the fuck are you supposed to deal with that? Are you supposed to be the one person who tells fucking Werewolf Jesus (technically Derek is Actual werewolf jesus what with the evolution thing, but before that Scott’s as close as it gets cus’ Peter’s just a zombie.) that he doesn’t know best? That he’s doing something wrong? If the Powers that Be made Scott an Alpha, what will they do to the one who tells him he fucked up? Everyone is just supposed to trust that Scott must be in the right. That his reasons are good enough. That he knows what’s best. Because if he doesn’t, then why the sudden Alpha eyes? Peter questions Scott often and happily, mostly because he doesn’t care if he gets struck by lightning or something. It’ll always be worth it to get that last quip in. Eventually Stiles starts to argue too, because he’s reached the point where he doesn’t care if he dies so long as everyone else important to him stops getting hurt. That’s when Scott starts cutting him out. When he stops believing Scott knows best.

And honestly, it’s like the first post I made that sparked this whole ranting binge. Scott cheats. He cheats and he uses his abilities to his advantage without ever thinking of what it does to other people. Except this time he’s not cheating at lacrosse. He’s not taking credit for bowling six strikes in a row. For some reason his eyes turned red, and everyone else is taking it as a sign that he must know better and he should be in charge, and he never disagrees.

Sure, he complains. “Why me? Why does it have to be my responsibility?”

Guess what buddy? It fucking doesn’t. If you stopped fucking ordering people around and admitted you don’t know what you’re doing to someone besides your MOM and you want someone else to take the lead? THEY WOULD. But because he will not admit any kind of weakness or that he isn’t sure what to do, he puts the weight on himself. He blames everyone else for the lead weights he tied around his waist. He doesn’t want to have to do the work, but he hates the idea of someone else being in charge. Of not being important. We’re told right off the bat that Scott wants to be important. He wants to be on first line not because he loves the game, but because he wants to be popular. He wants Allison to go out with him. This is just another way he wants to be important, and he won’t ever let go of it. He gives orders and makes calls on who gets to know what and who is worthy and won’t take responsibility for the failures, but happily takes credit for the successes. When he fucks up by not talking to people or by lying to them or making a bad call, he doesn’t admit it. He doesn’t tell anyone. He lets them think that he’s blameless so that when he actually says shit like “I lost them” someone will say “They’ll come back because you’re their leader” No. He’s not. He lost them because he pushed them away. It was his fault.

Whatever. I’m salty. *pouts* Anyway. True Alpha is dumb, and I’ve read a couple theories about how Deaton made it up, and tbh, I’d follow that logic. If you’re curious, I think I tagged it ‘true alpha’ or ‘deaton’ on my blog.

#personal #go for it #meta ramblings #anti-scott mccall #rant #much love to you sweet anon #Anonymous

[lamiasluck]

The God of Health

I’ve gotten the chance to talk about my god au because of the lovely @juju-on-that-yeet so I wanted to post a lil origin story I thought of for Edward! Here’s a brief explanation of that au btw

Tags: @alvie-ashgrove @emptynarration @theshysepticeye @verse2wo

Warnings: Character death and violence

-

“Bring him to the town’s square!” an aggressive voice pierced through the loud crowd.

“No!” Edward struggled against the men dragging him by his arms. “You can’t do this!” His voice was drowned out by the crowd’s cheers. Soon enough he was tied against a pole surrounded by the face of people he once called his patients. 

He wasn’t hated, that was far from the truth, they were desperate. As desperate as Edward was to escape this torment. “Let me go! Please!” 

Prayers were chanted amongst the crowd. Another man stood in front of Edward, armed with a knife. Edward recognized him, he failed to save his wife from the plague that fell upon the town. He could see the pain in his eyes.

The man leading the event continued to call out amongst the village. He looked up at something unseen. “Oh mighty gods... please hear our prayers!” 

“This isn’t right!” Edward shrieked. The crowd fell silent, somber expressions painted each of their faces. Even the man in front of him shared their look of remorse, eyes vacant as he stared at the knife he was holding. He was breathing heavily and shaking. “Please... you can’t do this...”

The man tore his gaze from the knife and looked at Edward. “May the gods have mercy on our souls and cure us of this plague. With this sacrifice-“ 

“This isn’t the solution!” Edward struggled against his binds. “You can’t rely on the gods for this. You need my help!” Some gasped and looked at him with shocked expressions. As if he was the crazy one here.

“We need divine help!” the man snapped. “This plague has killed too many of us. Too many good people.” The knife glistened against the sun’s rays. Edward swallowed harshly at the sight. “You’re a good man, Edward, please, forgive us for this.” 

Edward stayed silent, looking at the crowd in desperation. The man raised the knife, causing him to flinch. “No, I’m your best bet on-“ The knife was put to his throat.

--

He woke up with a start as if he had a bad nightmare. Immediately, he grasped at his neck, noticing the rough skin of a scar. His eyes widened at the feeling, and he slowly lowered his hands that never stopped shaking. He looked around. He wasn’t in the town’s square anymore; it was completely dark.

“Hello?” His voice echoed against the shadows. No response.

He shook his head. Memories of betrayal and pain flooded his mind like the damned plague that flooded through the town. His town. 

“How could they do this...” While one patient died, he saved five in their place. He was the best in his field. Why, as he remembered the town’s faces he could recall helping them with their strife. And this is how they thanked him? 

Tears began building up in his eyes. They trusted him with their lives. He found it harder to breathe through his weak voice. He thought he could trust his life in theirs. The sob that escaped him was loud and filled with despair. He trusted them. His hands clenched and grabbed at the wispy black floor, as he collapsed forward and cried out his anguish. They betrayed him; when all he offered was compassion.

“It’s not fair, is it?” A foreign voice rang within the dark room. Edward couldn’t find the effort to care. He stared vacantly at his own hands. A shadowy mist emerged in front of his kneeled form. Soon enough, the mist formed into the shape of a man. 

“They didn’t appreciate your talents, doctor.” Edward slowly looked up at the figure; not caring for how his tears stained his face and disheveled his appearance. While shaped like a man, he knew he wasn’t staring at anyone human. Even if his vision was blurry, this wasn’t natural.

This figure was pale; dressed in elegant, dark clothes that looked expensive. He held an analyzing gaze as he looked down at Edward; black eyes seemingly emotionless. Still, this figure didn’t act malicious to him. “It wasn’t your time yet,” he said in a low, sympathetic tone. 

Edward couldn’t help but whimper at the thought. He tried to wipe away his tears on his sleeve; a pained scowl now plastered on his face. “I did so much for them...” 

The figure nodded solemnly. “You did. You were a noble man.” He walked around the distraught man with a look of disdain. “A soul like you doesn’t deserve this.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. Edward’s death, like everyone else’s, was maliciously planned to go with fate’s plan. Such a barbaric sacrifice never listened to order. “As an act of mercy,” he started as he looked down at Edward, “I can send your soul back.”

Send his soul back? Edward’s eyes light up at the thought, only for that light to be extinguished not a second later. “Back there...?” His voice was strained and dripping with disbelief. “To my village?” 

The figure nodded. “Yes, and with it, I’ll give your people nothing but a warning for this sin.” 

Edward furrowed his brows at the thought. “You won’t cure the plague?” 

“No, they should learn that acts like this will give them nothing.” 

A pit formed in his stomach. His mind flashed back and remembered all those faces. Everyone who was complacent or encouraging his brutal murder. All for something that wouldn’t get solved easily. “Then... then I don’t want to go back,” Edward concluded. “They’ll kill me again.” 

“I’ll make sure you live a life of luxury.” 

He was brave enough to snap at the other. “No, no, you don’t understand! I don’t want to see them again!” 

The figure seemed taken aback by his attitude. “Are you sure?” 

The pain, he could remember it. As his throat was slit the last thing he saw was the remorseful, but stern face of his past patient. He could remember the blood. He could remember the shame. “I’m sure. You can punish me for all I care. I’m not going back there.” 

The figure nodded, pity apparent on his pale features. However, his expression quickly turned dark. “I want you to understand what you’re saying, Edward.” 

Black mist swirled around him, forming shadows that wanted to reach out and grab him. “I underst-” They traveled up and tightened around his neck. He could only let out choked gasps as he fruitlessly grasped at them.

The figure leaned down, looming over the doctor. “You are not going to be treated like the rest. I’m going to turn you into a creation that will make humanity cower and praise you. You’ll be just like me. Do you understand?” 

It was surprising he could think with his blood and air getting cut off from his head. Cower and praise? That didn’t sound too bad. To become what his patients feared and worshipped. To be able to have them regret their betrayal against him. To be able to have them listen. He nodded, or at least, tried to. 

“You’ll be an interesting one, doctor,” the figure purred. “I greatly appreciated your cooperation.” 

The hold around his neck lessened. Edward felt immense pride in his chest as he took deep breaths of air. Whatever this was, it would be something new. Something bigger than what he was before. This figure, no, this god standing over him felt appreciation? He wanted to chase that feeling like a hunter to its prey. Was he being selfish for this? His village was selfish when they killed him. He shook whatever apprehensive thoughts he had out of his head. It was too late now; he made his choice. He needed this. He needed to earn back his respect and pride. Nothing fake. He’ll make sure he gets sincerity.

He looked up at the god with a smile. It’s weak, but still conveyed his feelings. Finally, the appreciation he deserved.

#dr iplier #Darkiplier #god au #markiplier #markiplier egos #fanfic

[seancerpg-archived]

THE GRAVE DIGGER

Name: UTP

Age: 39 - 49

Pronouns: he/him

FC: Cilian Murphy

BIOGRAPHY

tw - body snatching, parental loss

For as long as his memory serves him, there’s never been a day of untainted happiness for him. Every good deed was punished by his wealthier peers, every good thought crumpled by the situation he grew up in. His home lacked hearth and security, but at least he had the safety of his parents’ arms - until the sickness claimed them when he was twelve. Being born in the margins of the illustrious town had its ups and downs - and the former only came in building strong, resilient characters, and while he may have turned out to be many things, no one could deny or diminish his resilience, or the way he clung, and sometimes clawed, for life and bread and coin, doing as many odd jobs as his youth could grant him. From selling papers, to working in a tinker’s shop, he’s finally earned enough coin to rent a small flat in the boarding house, providing him with a bed and warmth for a small fee. It wasn’t ideal, but at least he wasn’t in the streets anymore, clawing for a safe spot away from being trampled on by either the passengers or the carriages.

His situation turned for the better when he met the doctor, dropping by the man’s practice to treat a cut on his palm. Striking a conversation and seeing that the doctor was of the same, resilient sort as he was, he began confiding in the man - telling him about the situation he was in and the hardships of daily life ; and the doctor listened. The doctor helped. Since that fateful day, he found that he could afford himself a better lodging, more private lodging that doesn’t have restriction so heavily placed upon their tenants - the lodging that offered him an opportunity to go in and out whenever he pleased, never having to explain himself to anyone - the landlord came in for his fee once a month, and aside from that brief moment where a bag of coins exchanged a master, he had little contact with the man - or any of his neighbours. But, while the newfound freedom and a taste of security following suit was a good, divine thing, he had to agree to some unsavory, horrendous things to do when the watchful hours of the night approaches. In the dead of the night, he steals into cemetaries, reopening fresh graves, taking the bodies to sell on. Still, the doctor payed him tremendously well, and every gold piece, every silver, iron or copper he looted, he could sell or pawn as he pleased - and no longer does he have to do four odd jobs just to support himself.

Now, he can even have small luxuries. He can visit pubs if he pleases, or a madame’s house. He can buy himself groceries and have a warm meal every day and night, and a decent breakfast - he can have new shoes and a new, warmer jacket for the winter. So what if the nightly terrors haunt him every time he opens a casket? The doctor helps him there, too - provides him with small vials of delicious, addictive things which make the nightmares go away, which make him forget that the things he’s doing are punishable by law - both human and divine. But, he’s lived his life in the darkness and chaos, in brutality and injustice all his life, and he knows how to move like a shadow, he knows where to go to remain hidden from sight. He knows his way around London, going in and out, agile like a cat, never seen or heard by any innocent passer-by - and, carrying the weight of the dead on his shoulders becomes easier by the day.

THE GHOST

It serves him right to be haunted - serves him more than right to be driven to the brink of insanity with the things he’s doing. It is angry, red eyes burning like inferno as it watches the digger, pale lips curled up in a sinister growl - and it watches with delight as the man's gaze flutters with apprehension around him before his shovel hits dirt. It is determined to make him pay for his crimes, but the stench of fear that radiates off him soothes it - and in it’s greed to feed off it, it forgets to terrorise the man in front of it. Tomorrow, it says. Tomorrow when the fear dulls down, true terror will begin.

CONNECTIONS

THE REBEL: He always tags along to his work and for a long while it’s been the most tiresome, vexing thing to happen. But, despite the fact that he’d always preferred to be on his own, he started to enjoy the other’s company. He can’t really put his finger on the rebel, but he doesn’t mind the help of an extra pair of hands - that way, he can get his work done at much, much faster pace ; and the dead no longer make him feel squeamish when there’s another person with a living heartbeat beside him.

THE DOCTOR: He wouldn’t go as far as to call him a friend, but he is something of a confidante ; someone who seems to truly care to listen to his problem, someone who gives him coin for the unsavory deeds he does in the dead of the night, and someone who, above all else, provides him with that sweet escape from reality, that sweet oblivion that only morphine can grant him. He can’t see that the doctor’s using him, but to be quite fair, the digger’s using him as well.

THE LAMPLIGHTER: He sees her on the streets nightly - whenever he’s going to work or coming from it, he sees her dragging that lighting stick behind her, making quite a ruckus when metal grates on the stone. Sometimes, the noise vexes him, but he’s never been the aggressive type - not towards women ; and sometimes, the sound of it soothes him - another proof that the dead are dead and left at the graveyard ; or in the doctor’s office. They are on a somewhat friendly basis, and he regards her as something between a sister and a daughter, and while he’s never really felt protective over anyone, he does care a great deal about her safety.

THE HATTER: Eerie goes hand in hand with eerie, and when it comes to the hatter, no one’s creepier than them. They’ve met each other some time ago, when the digger delivered a few trinkets to their shop, something he’s found in the graves that he couldn’t use, but it might prove helpful to the hatter - and ever since, they’ve struck something resembling friendship, often enjoying a round of drink after both of their shifts end. Still, while they are friend, he isn’t completely comfortable around them - there’s just something sinister behind their eyes, but he does his best to ignore it ; if there’s one thing he knows, that’s never to provoke a sleeping beast.

THE GRAVE DIGGER IS OPEN FOR APPLICATIONS

#the grave digger #open #all

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Oils

Cult girl socializes at the opera and receives an unexpected call. 

Note: I tagged this as “anti mlm” as in multi-level marketing and not men-loving-men. 

Trigger warnings: Discussions of cults and emotional manipulation

It wasn't until after the opera was over that people began to notice you may have had a little fun during intermission. Hannibal's hair wasn't in its usual perfect side part and his jacket was slightly wrinkled in places. You could cover most of his love bites with your stole, but nothing could hide that post-orgasm glow.

Most opera-goers stayed to socialize for hours after the show concluded, making an already long night even longer. It was like clubbing, but for rich old people.

"So you're the future Mrs. Hannibal Lecter?" A woman with silvery hair said. She dragged her husband into the conversation by the arm. "I've heard so much about you."

You were about to say something witty, but noticed the way she was looking at you. Scanning you up and down. Looking for anything out of place to grill you about.

"Only good things, I hope." Hannibal said in your silence. His voice was vaguely threatening. "She is a doctoral student, in her second year of her graduate studies in clinical psychology."

The husband, who, up to this point, hadn't spoken a word, perked up. "Is that right?"

You smiled, excited for the chance to talk about your passion. "Yes sir. I've still got quite a ways to go, but I love my work."

"You should be proud." The man praised, looking at Hannibal. "You've got yourself an ambitious wife."

"Oh, we're not married yet." You corrected.

"So when can we expect an invitation?" The woman asked.

"Six months from now, isn't it?" Hannibal answered. "Memorial day weekend. Then I'm taking her to Italy for a lengthy honeymoon."

The woman threw her head back and sighed. "That sounds heavenly."

"You young modern girls are always so intuitive." The man commented. "I'll bet you tricked him into marrying you."

You wanted to call this guy out for his sexist bullshit, but he wasn't far off. It was Hannibal who tricked you, though.

Technically, he proposed to you within the first six months. You just didn't know it. It took until shockingly recently to find out.

It was during a ballroom dancing lesson of all places. You were sweaty, but loved the feeling of your lover's hands gently guiding your movements. You stepped away from the lesson to get some water, and innocently asked when he would propose to you.

"I believe I already did." He said with enough conviction to blur the lines of seriousness and sarcasm.

"You pretended to." You corrected. "Remember? We were just pretending to be engaged for Anna's wedding."

"But it didn't end after the wedding, did it?" He observed. "You kept calling me your fiancé long after that weekend passed."

You paused, then threw your head back in exasperation. "Oh my god, Hannibal."

Hannibal laughed. "I told you. Someday it won't be a lie."

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" You pressed your fingers to your temples. "So we've been engaged this whole time?"

"What can I say?" He said, gently. "I knew you were my one and only even then. It was just a matter of circumventing your inhibitions."

"I'm not complaining." You folded your arms. "But a little notice would have been nice."

"Well, if you insist." He laced his fingers between his own. "[F/N] [L/N]. Will you be my wife?"

Even though the question was truly just a formality, you were still as giddy as a schoolgirl to hear those words.

"Yes, Hannibal Lecter." You said, cheeks stinging from smiling so hard. "I will marry you."

Then you just went back to the dance lesson like nothing happened. It was shockingly in-character for both of you.

"No." You shook your head. "We killed someone together and took a blood oath to never separate."

The couple laughed. Hannibal looked down at you with pride.

“So [F/N].” The man said. “Have you given any thought to your doctoral dissertation?” 

“Oh, Charles.” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to be grilled about her studies.” 

“No, it’s okay.” You smiled. As long as you were talking about school, you weren’t being interrogated about the thirty-year age gap between you and Hannibal. “I have been thinking about my dissertation. There are plenty of fascinating topics to choose from, but I can’t not write it about, well, the reason I began to study psychology in the first place.” 

“And that is?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Cults.” You said, grinning ear to ear. “Understanding them, their leaders, their followers, why people join them. How they evolve and grow more insidious as time passes. What form they’re starting to take in the digital age.” 

“That is interesting.” The woman’s voice rose, connoting genuine engagement. “And what form are they taking in the digital age?” 

You looked up at Hannibal, as if to ask for permission. Permission to rip into her and burn that bridge for good. He answered in the affirmative. 

“Ma’am, could I take a look at your bracelet?” You asked, already knowing exactly what she would say. 

Her face lit up. “Oh, do you like it?”

She pulled it off her wrist and handed it to you. You brought it to your nose and took a whiff, confirming your theory. Then you handed it off to Hannibal, whose sense of smell was much more refined. He took one breath, then recoiled. 

Hannibal covered his mouth and nose with his hand and coughed. “That is... quite strong, Mrs. DeMarco.” 

“It’s Affirm, by doTERRA.” She revealed, her voice growing defensive. “It helps you ground yourself and remember your worth.” 

You handed the bracelet back to her. “Do you sell doTERRA, Mrs. DeMarco?” 

“Well, now that you mention it...” A small smile appeared on her lips. “Why? Would you like to buy some?” 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, ma’am, but...” You lied. “You’re actually in a cult.” 

She had nothing to say to that. She just stared at you with her mouth agape, urging you to explain yourself. 

“Multilevel marketing companies employ a host of cult manipulation tactics to con people out of their savings.” You explained. “Just because the promise is financial independence instead of a spot in paradise, doesn’t mean it’s not a lie. Research conducted by the Federal Trade Commission shows that the vast majority of participants actually lose money. The statistics are just a google search away, yet thousands of people still insist on the legitimacy of the companies they sell for.” 

“Well, I-” She protested, but couldn’t find the words to defend herself. “I’m there for the community, really. For the first time in years, I have a sisterhood of like-minded women who love me!” 

You smiled through a cringe. “That’s another pretty common cult manipulation tactic. They appropriate familial language to make people feel more connected to the group than they really should be.” 

Although you didn’t expect her to, she looked to be genuinely considering it. 

“Next time you see your ‘sisters’,” You began. “Pay attention to how they talk about people who are not in the group. Or, better yet, tell them that you’re considering leaving. You’ll see how conditional their love is.” 

An awkward, deafening silence followed. The woman looked at her husband, as if willing him to do something. To stand up to the evil twenty-something grad student who had the audacity to cite her sources. 

Instead, the husband just burst out in riotous laughter. 

“Miriam!” He nearly shouted, heaving like he was about to collapse. “I told you that oil business was up to no good! No honest company makes their employees pay to work!” 

The woman’s face turned red. You almost felt bad for her. The feeling vanished when the man put his hand on your shoulder. 

“Seriously, Dr. Lecter, you’d better keep this one.” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s an absolute godsend.” 

“No divine intervention was involved whatsoever, Dr. DeMarco.” Hannibal smiled to himself and brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “She is a woman of her own making."

"Oh, we all know that's not entirely true." The woman snapped, slipping into passive-aggression. She glanced at Hannibal. "How much are you spending on this mouthy little know-it-all? Isn't it about $80k a year?"

You, of course, brought this on yourself. You threw down the gauntlet by going after this girlboss's side hustle, so now nothing was off-limits.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mrs. DeMarco." Hannibal said, calmly. "My soon-to-be wife's education is a much better investment than that overpriced napalm you wear on your wrist."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. It was a laugh you shared with the man. Hannibal looked down at you, admiring how your face lit up.

"You'll forgive my wife's rudeness." The man requested. "Please, Ms. [F/N], tell me more about your dissertation."

"Well," you laced your fingers together. "I'm planning to write my dissertation on the cult of academic elitism."

"I would tread lightly, dear." The woman warned, eyes darting to Hannibal. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."

You adjusted your stole, giving them a quick glance at the love bites along your neck.

"I assure you." You said. "He quite likes it when I bite."

Your clutch started to aggressively, audibly vibrate. You could have sworn you'd put your phone on silent, but it buzzed nonetheless.

"Probably just, y'know-" you stuttered, embarrassed. "An amber alert or something."

"We are expecting a snowstorm, I believe. I was warned of it a few minutes ago." Hannibal said, always ready to cover your ass whenever needed. The couple nodded along in understanding.

You pulled your phone from your clutch. Your eyes widened and your face turned sickly pale at the sight of a caller you thought you’d never hear from again. Without thinking, you slid the deny icon across the screen. 

“Right.” You said, tucking your phone and your secrets back into the clutch. “Winter Storm... Theresa is headed this way.” 

Hannibal cleared his throat. “In that case, [F/N] and I must take our leave before we get snowed in. It was very nice catching up with you. I will see to it that [F/N] and I have you for dinner very soon.” 

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #cult girl #doterra #anti mlm

[todisturbtheuniverse]

FIC: Liminal Grief [1/3]

Rating: T Fandom: Stardew Valley Pairing: Shane/Female Farmer Tags: Pre-Relationship, Developing Friendship, Grief, Alcoholism, Depression Word Count: 10,613 (total) Summary: The new farmer has a level of equal-opportunity-friendliness that reminds Shane of an old friend, but when the mask comes off, it's more like looking in a mirror. Also on AO3. Notes: Very much based in the game, but littered with my own headcanons, both for this particular farmer and for Shane. Like other stories in this series, this could be considered standalone, but follows the same farmer (named Lydia) and the same Shane, and shares continuity with those other works.

It had taken a while—most of the spring, actually—but Lydia had finally fallen into a routine.

The routine involved sticking to the farm, mostly. It needed a lot of work—a lot of work she didn't know how to do. She spent her days trying to replicate the tips she'd unearthed in Granddad's old books, his journals on the seasons and crops, and her nights sleeping more soundly than she'd slept in her whole life.

It was hard work. Scary work. Every time she took hold of a weed, she prayed she wasn't about to pull up one of the precious crops she'd spent her dwindling money on. But she was getting through it.

And when she'd done all she could do for the day, there was always the distraction of town.

Thinking of Pelican Town's square that way—town, because the farm was technically in some kind of rural unincorporated area—always made her feel a little like some Austenian heroine, donning her gloves and coiffing her hair to visit civilization. In reality, the best she could muster was a shower before the long, dusty walk, but she'd always liked stories. Something she'd had in common with Granddad.

And this story was full of characters: the downtrodden but enduring mayor, the rebellious daughter of the local grocer, the hardworking big-city doctor, the gregarious saloon-owner…

As the days passed, and she made an effort to greet everyone with cheer, she got more and more back: brief small talk peppered into her days, friendly waves, smiles losing their wariness.

Well. From some people, at least. The runner-up town drunk sure hadn't taken to her friendliness so far.

Interactions with Shane followed, more or less, the same pattern as the first. She offered a pleasantry. He found a way to reject it.

When she crossed paths with him again at the bar on a Friday night: "Hey, Shane. How's it going?"

And in return: "Why are you bothering me." With his inflection, it sounded more like a complaint than a question. "I want to be alone."

On a Tuesday as she stood outside Pierre's, when Shane passed by on his way to JojaMart: "Nice day, isn't it?"

It would have been easy enough for him to agree and keep power-walking on by, but instead he said, "No, I don't have time to chat with you." Like she'd asked him to reflect in detail on the most recent Queen of Sauce episode.

But these were downright polite interactions compared to last week's, when she'd been fishing at the river south of the ranch, well after sundown. She'd spotted him walking home, weaving slightly on the beat-down dirt path, catching himself every few steps as if gravity was making its best effort against him.

"Hey," she called out, ignoring the tugging on her line, "are you okay?"

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, his whole body swinging around so that his red-rimmed eyes could glare at her. Once they'd managed to focus, anyway. "Money? I'd give you a pot of gold to leave me alone!"

"I could use a pot of gold, actually," she began, but he was already in motion again, stomping up the path to the ranch house and slamming the door behind him.

She certainly didn't need to keep putting herself out there. There were plenty of other people who were already nice enough to her, going on friendly, even: Gus and Emily, who were always excited when she brought in one of her crops for them to experiment with; Abigail, who came up with imaginative renovations for the farm Lydia now inhabited; Harvey, who was a bit distant but earnest.

But she'd seen the paths that Shane beat through Pelican Town. To JojaMart, hunched into his sweatshirt, scowling; to the saloon, no longer glowering but run down; to the ranch at the end of the night, a slow and meandering walk, like he already dreaded doing it all over again. She recognized the patterns. She hadn't been a shelf-stocker, but she knew a kindred soul. Another person caught on the conveyor belt of the corporate machine.

That was probably her dramatics again. Her character-profiling. Maybe Shane was just a grouch, happy to scare off anyone every opportunity he got. But on the off chance that that wasn't the case…

She wasn't going to stop saying hello just because he glared at her for it. Just in case.

On a Saturday night, as spring began to wilt beneath the pressure of summer, she donned her metaphorical white gloves and committed to a night at the saloon. She'd tried to keep working after sundown a few days this past week, but she still just didn't have the stamina for it; she felt like one of those limp weeds she kept tearing out of her land.

A drink was just what she needed. A drink, and maybe some food. Her stomach rumbled despite the meal she'd eaten at mid-afternoon; the smell inside the Stardrop was greasy, and cheesy, and tomato-y, and she drifted toward the counter, following the smell. Gus was busy chatting with Pam, but Emily noticed her right away and came over with a smile.

"Hey, Lydia!" she said. "You okay?"

Lydia blinked at the concern and picked up a nearby spoon to examine her own face. "I look that bad? I showered and everything."

Emily tipped her head to the side, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Not bad. Just tired. Your aura's a little pale."

"My aura is accurate, then." She dropped the spoon and leaned against the bar counter. "I think I'll just have a beer tonight. A fancy cocktail might knock me out."

"I won't tell Gus," Emily said in a conspiratorial tone, grabbing a glass. "We're making pizzas, if you're interested."

Pizza. The source of that divine smell. Lydia's stomach rumbled again. She'd had a favorite pizza place back in the city; it had been her last meal before she left for the valley. She wondered if the stuff Gus cooked up was any good, if he was hiding a wood fired brick oven somewhere out back.

"Hey, Shane," Emily said, just as cheerfully as she'd greeted Lydia, and Lydia realized that Shane was standing at the bar a few feet away from her. "The usual?"

"Yeah." He laid his money on the bar.

"Coming right up," Emily said, picking up a second glass.

She retreated to pour the beer, and Lydia glanced sidelong at Shane, gave a little wave. He looked even more wretched than usual, eyes hooded, five o'clock shadow thick.

She smiled like she didn't notice any of that. "Hey. Happy Friday."

He met her eyes and sighed. "Sure."

Well, it was monosyllabic, but it was an improvement. Emily returned with their beers. Shane picked his up, gave what might have been a nod in Lydia's direction, and wandered away to his usual table. During the walk, Lydia estimated that he'd already downed half the beer.

"I'm wearing him down," she said, impressed with her own prowess. 

"Well done," Emily said. Somehow, she kept the congratulatory tone of her voice from being condescending. "So, how about that pizza?"

Lydia tallied up her funds in her head. She could spare the money, probably. She shouldn't, though. If she wanted the farm to succeed, if she wanted to have plenty for the summer planting, if, if, if—

But the smell was just too overpowering. "Yeah, I think I'll have one," she said. "There a choice of toppings or anything?"

"Just the special, really. Green peppers and sausage and onions."

"Sounds perfect."

Some part of her told her to cancel the order. To take it back, keep the paltry pocket money where it belonged. She just couldn't seem to unstick her jaw to do it. She'd eaten a lot of fresh-caught fish and wild spring onions lately, and not much else; she was dying for a little variety.

She sipped her beer while she waited, people-watching. The kids swarmed in and occupied the arcade; she probably could have caught Abigail's eye and joined them, but their company seemed a little boisterous for her at the moment. They were only a few years younger than her, technically—not kids at all—but she felt out of step with their conversations. Too old, too worn out.

She snorted at her own melancholy. Give a girl a farm she didn't know how to run, and she'd turn into a mopey navel-gazer in no time.

"Fresh out of the oven," Emily said, sliding the platter of pizza across the bar. It was much, much too big for one person to consume, even a person as hungry as Lydia. "Enjoy!"

"Thanks," Lydia said, reverie broken, and surreptitiously scouted for somewhere to sit.

She'd been making inroads, definitely, but it was still an insular community. People tended to pair off, huddle up in their groups—treading the same boards they did every Saturday night. She wasn't sure where to stick a foot in the door, who wouldn't just crush it as they pulled it closed.

Her eyes landed on Shane's table. It didn't get more insular than that. Party of one. Two, maybe, if you counted the beer he was staring at. The look in his eyes suggested it might be his last.

Well, he'd been...amenable, sort of, earlier. There was an empty chair at his table. She had a bribe in the form of pizza. And if he was a jerk to her in front of the whole bar, someone else would definitely take her in. Squaring her shoulders, she made her way over.

Trying to treat this like any other night had been a mistake.

Most of the time, the Stardrop cut a sharp contrast to the bar back in the city. Rustic instead of divey, an old crowd rather than a young one, local beer instead of twenty-seven varieties on tap. And that suited Shane just fine. Remembering that bar meant remembering Patrick and Charlotte, and it was better not to remember. Better to immerse himself in scenery that couldn't get confused with memories.

Especially tonight.

Only problem was his brain, which had had it out for him for just about a year now. Isn't this the song that was playing when they told me they were getting married? it said, and, Look, that bottle Gus is keeping up on the top shelf looks like the whiskey me and Patrick split when Charlotte got pregnant, and, The new farmer girl sure reminds me of Patrick.

He wasn't drunk enough for that kind of thinking yet. Brain should've gotten the message by now. It needed to be damn near pickled before he'd go anywhere near those old memories.

And the farmer girl—yeah, maybe she had Patrick's wide-eyed friendliness, but he wasn't interested in discovering any other similarities between her and his dead best friend.

"Hey," a breezy voice said. "Can I sit here?"

Slowly, he lifted his head. Like his reluctance had summoned her, Lydia stood over his table, balancing a platter of pizza in one hand and holding her pint glass in the other.

He meant to say No. As rudely as possible. Maybe something snide along with it, like, Don't you have other people to annoy? Maybe better than that. A real zinger. Something that would send her scurrying for good. Apparently none of his other comebacks, reiterated at increasing volume whenever they crossed paths, hadn't been severe enough.

But a ghost possessed him instead, and he said, "Why?"

Like an idiot. Give this kind of person an inch, they'd take a mile. Hadn't he figured that out the first day they'd met? He knew exactly how this went.

He knew exactly how this ended.

"Empty seat." She pointed, as well as she could with her hands full. "Unless you're waiting for someone."

It was an innocent-enough assumption, but regardless, it felt like she'd stabbed him in the gut and twisted the knife. It sure felt like he was waiting. Waiting for Patrick and Charlotte to walk through that door, waiting until he knew how to parent his friends' orphaned daughter, waiting to wake up from this unfeeling nightmare…

He could lie. He could say he was waiting for someone. She couldn't have been paying enough attention to him to know the truth, and if she gave him the stink-eye later when it was clear his "company" wasn't coming, well, that didn't matter to him. Maybe it'd put an end to her niceties. Maybe it would be a good thing.

"I'll share the pizza," she offered.

He hadn't allowed himself to look at it too closely before, but now that she'd pointed it out, he could smell it. Bread, cheese, sauce...Gus had really stepped up his game recently. Nothing went better with a beer than pizza.

Well, pepper poppers, maybe, but nobody was making those around here.

"Sure," he said, before he could think better of it. Free food was worth a little inane chatter. "Whatever."

She beamed like he'd greeted her as an old friend, put her pizza down, and sat. "Thanks," she said. "I'm never going to get through this whole thing on my own."

Her timing was a little unbelievable. That she'd forgo rubbing elbows with the rest of the bar—something she did reliably—today, of all days. That she'd bring a pizza along with her. Almost like she had been the one possessed by a ghost—a ghost trying to reach him.

But that was even crazier than all the local superstition. And maybe a little part of him wanted to believe it, but the rest of him couldn't take comfort from something that wasn't true.

He picked up a slice of pizza, though. "I love this stuff," he admitted. "Thanks."

"Sure," she said. "You're doing me a favor, honestly. I don't have the energy to hang out with the kids tonight, and the oldies all want to talk about the farm." She pulled a face. "I work my ass off twelve hours a day at the place. Sometimes I'd rather not relive it all again at the end of the night."

"Hmm," he said. A nice, noncommittal syllable. He took a big bite of pizza—a good excuse not to elaborate.

"Still beats Joja," she sighed. "How is the old place, anyway? Still soul-sucking?"

He swallowed, surprised into responding. "You worked at Joja?"

"Not storefront. Desk jockey." Her nose crinkled up like she'd bitten into a particularly sour lemon. "Carpal tunnel instead of knee problems. I really suffered." He snorted, and she smiled. "Shit, I'm kind of glad to hear you didn't know. Feels like I've been the lone rider of the rumor mill for weeks. But somewhere out there, conversations are happening that are not about me."

"No," he said. "I just don't participate in conversations."

She rolled her eyes, but kept smiling. "Right. How could I forget?"

He felt sort of unsettled by her careless attitude, the same way he had when she'd shaken his hand at the bar.  Like his brusque commentary didn't put her off; like she could have a conversation with even an unwilling participant. The exact opposite of him, when it came right down to it. He couldn't tell if he was jealous or repulsed.

"They'll move on eventually," he said. Not a reassurance or commiseration, but a statement of fact.

She eyed him thoughtfully. "You'd know," she conceded. "You're new to the area, too, right?"

"Yep." He didn't elaborate. There was pizza to eat, beer to drink. Conversation to avoid.

Marnie and Jas were the only people in this town who knew exactly why he was here. He was not about to explain it to anyone else.

"You like it here?" she asked.

"Why, are you having second thoughts? Kind of late for that, isn't it?"

"No! No." She frowned, and he realized it was the first time he'd really seen her do so. "Just curious what other people from outside the valley think of it here. I want this to be long term, but…" She shrugged.

But farming isn't exactly easy or profitable? Probably a hell of a shock for someone who'd had an office job. All that sudden, manual labor. All those razor-thin profit margins. A day that didn't end promptly at 5.

"The people are busybodies," he said.

She chuckled. "I've noticed."

"This saloon is the sole source of entertainment."

"Hey, don't forget the museum. And library. Same building, but..."

"All the young people want to leave," he pushed on, ignoring her. "Or they're here on a whim, thinking the valley's gonna cure them of something."

He shot her a pointed look. She raised a single eyebrow, as if to acknowledge his point, but she didn't volunteer what that something might be for her. Fine by him.

"All the old people either feel like they're trapped here, or that it's their job to protect the place against modernization, or both."

"Ah," she said. "Explains that scene I witnessed at Pierre's the other day." She paused to take a deep drink of her beer. "So is there anything you like about the valley?"

"Not really," he said, automatic, even though it was a lie. But he wasn't about to tell her—he wasn't about to tell anyone—that he liked the way the air smelled after dusk, or that he liked the sounds the frogs made at the dock on the lake, or that he liked the way the chickens flocked to him all bright-eyed in the morning even when he was dreary-eyed himself.

There were very few things left in the world he liked, all fragile as bubbles blown by a child. If he drew attention to them, they, too, would vanish.

"I'll take it under advisement," she sighed. "I only spent summers here as a kid. It seemed magical, back then." She picked up another slice of pizza, considered it. "Still does, actually, I'm just...having a harder time believing it."

"It's not magic," he said flatly. "You just had a big imagination."

She laughed, as if she'd never learned how to take offense. "Come out to the farm sometime. There's some creature out in the woods that makes a noise like nothing I've heard anywhere else. We'll see who believes in magic then."

"Once you've seen the backroom of a JojaMart, you realize humans are incapable of magic," he muttered.

"Who said anything about humans?" she said with an exaggerated wink.

He huffed. Her absurdity was sort of funny, just the way Patrick's had been. Over-the-top, ridiculous; he would've loved that wizard guy in his tower west of the lake, or the crusty old adventurer up in the mountains with the eye patch…

But the similarities meant nothing. She wasn't Patrick. She wasn't being nudged along by his ghost. He couldn't, wouldn't, believe in that shit.

Even though she'd brought him pizza on his birthday. On the anniversary of the day they'd died.

"Well, you ever want a break from that backroom, come out to the farm," she said, serious now. "Get a look at what it's like to live free—and broke." She smiled, a little crookedly, and finished off her beer.

True to her scary sixth sense, Emily turned up right as Lydia put down her glass. "Can I get you anything else?" she asked, beaming between the two of them like she was the proud mother of a child who'd finally gotten a playdate.

He didn't exactly want to encourage that thinking, but...he didn't want to be indebted to anybody, either. Especially not somebody down to their last dollar, when he'd eaten half her pizza. He was an asshole, but he hadn't fallen quite that far.

"No thanks," Lydia began, but Shane cut across her, "One more round. Put it on my tab." He nodded at her glass. "Same thing, or you gonna make Gus mix up another one of those city-girl cocktails?"

For a moment, she looked downright surprised—startled by the offer, maybe, or finally stunned by his ability to insult people. But then she grinned, wide and sincere.

"Just the beer," she said.

"Coming right up," Emily said, and wandered away.

Lower, heartfelt, Lydia said, "thanks."

He shrugged. "Seemed like you might need it. Drown your sorrows, and all that. You want a reliable source of magic, it's at the bottom of a glass."

"Never heard that one before."

"Trust me." He knocked back the rest of his own beer. "Secret backroom wisdom."

She didn't look at him reprovingly, the way Marnie always did when he made one of these jokes; she just nodded, sagely, like she believed him completely.

He doubted it, but...it was kind of nice, feeling like someone wanted to listen to him, for once. Feeling like somebody heard him.

Things could go back to normal tomorrow.

Go to Part 2 ->

#stardew valley #shane/female farmer #sdv shane #sdv farmer #universe writes #i'm going to spread out posting of the other two chapters here but they're already up at AO3 #just fyi #depression cw #alcoholism cw #developing friendship #pre-relationship

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2019 Day 15: Fallen!Cas

The Art of Sleep | @wingsdestiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1631 Main Tags and Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Human Castiel, Dreams and Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff Summary: Castiel has trouble adjusting to being human, and has a particularly hard time sleeping. Dean helps him with his sleep issues, and if he thinks he's being subtle, he's not.

A Love of All Things That Grow | @rustling-pages Rating: General Word Count: 4909 Main Tags and Warnings: Miscommunication Summary: What Castiel does, after over a year of drama that didn’t give him time to get used to being human, is start a garden.

A New Beginning | @breathingdestiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1452 Main Tags and Warnings: s14 canon divergent, angst with a happy ending Summary: After they admit their feelings and share a passionate night together, Dean is heartbroken to find that Cas has left in the middle of the night.

a walk in the park | @breathingdestiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1236 Main Tags and Warnings: s12 canon divergent, fluff Summary: Dean and Cas go on a walk. It's a date, but Dean doesn't know it yet.

If Tomorrow Never Comes | @jupiterjames Rating: Explicit Word Count: 97806 Main Tags and Warnings: fallen Castiel, paramedic Dean, graphic depictions of violence, soul bond, hurt/comfort Summary: Doctor Sam Winchester and paramedic Dean Winchester work at one of the USA's most prestigious hospitals for supernatural beings and victims of supernatural occurrences. During an especially busy shift on a full moon night, Dean and his partner, Benny, respond to a dispatch for an injured celestial being. There they meet Castiel, an angel with a broken wing and a story he's not telling anyone about. After all, governmental agreements between Earth and Heaven have kept uninvited angels off of Earth for more than a century. But Castiel has willingly Fallen to Earth in order to stop a Disaster of divine proportions before it happens. And to do that, he needs the help and supernatural connections that the Winchester brothers possess.

Broken Wings | @pherryt Rating: General Word Count: 1627 Main Tags and Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, Season 9 divergent, human!Cas, fallen!cas, Hurt!Cas, dean asks him to stay Summary: Sam succeeded - Crowley's cured and the Gates of Hell are closed and somehow he's still alive. It should be cause to celebrate, but all Dean can think of is getting back to the bunker as fast as he can. He's gotta find out if Cas is okay.

I Found | @cr-noble-writes Rating: No Rating Word Count: 1645 Main Tags and Warnings: fluff, angst, song fic Summary: Dean finds himself missing Castiel, and eventually comes to terms with his feelings for Cas only to find him again and wonder if he feels the same.

Worth the Fall | @DesiraeLovesDestiel Rating: Explicit Word Count: 25138 Main Tags and Warnings: Teacher Dean/Fallen Angel Cas, True love, smut, fluff, humor Summary: The angel Castiel was stationed on Earth to observe, not interact. When he takes it upon himself to intervene in an accident that would have claimed the life of Kindergarten teacher, Dean Winchester, there were consequences. Stripped of most of his powers, Castiel is forced to live as a mortal for one year. But after getting to know the man who led to his fall from grace, the angel soon discovers that he has a choice to make. Return to his post when his punishment is over and never see Dean again, or give up his near immortality to take a chance at a life on Earth with the human he has come to love.

Making love out of nothing at all | @marian-elisa Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12758 Main Tags and Warnings: Canon divergence, human Castiel, friends to lovers, love confessions, slow burn Summary: A graceless Castiel realized he was in love with Dean. After asking Sam for advice, he decided to tell Dean the truth. From there, things didn't turn out as he would've wanted them to.

A Case of The Grumps | @lemonsorbae Rating: General Word Count: 1073 Main Tags and Warnings: Fluff, Canon Universe Summary: The angel is grumpy.

Home is With You | @thursdays-fallen-angel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6911 Main Tags and Warnings: Fallen!Cas, Alpha!Cas, Omega!Dean Summary: News of Heaven's forced exodus reaches them, but for the most part, it doesn't do more than graze them. They stay in the bunker, and as long as they're there, rumors of angry angels remain just that-rumors. Inside the safety of their bubble, Sam slowly begins to heal, and as Dean fusses over him and nurses him back to health, life returns to normal. An altered sort of normal, sure, but normal nonetheless. And thankfully, Dean keeps busy enough with his brother that most of his other stresses can remain safely on the back-burner. Well. All stresses except for the biggest one.

Endings Are Easy | @mittensmorgul Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1569 Main Tags and Warnings: Episode: s14e10 Nihilism, Coda, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts Summary: They all finally get a happy ending.

His Leather Jacket | @babybluecas Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10549 Main Tags and Warnings: canon divergent, bittersweet ending, first kiss, first time, fallen!cas, biker!cas Summary: Kicked out of the Bunker, Cas left to live his human life on his own. A few weeks later, he and Dean meet again to solve a case together and Dean can barely believe his eyes. Cas in a black, leather jacket, riding a motorcycle - that's a thing Dean's never expected to see, but he's surely not gonna complain.

There's a rule | @flurryflair Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15209 Main Tags and Warnings: Case fic, Explicit sexual content, Alternate Canon, Human Castiel, Road trip, Angst and feelings, Introspection, Denial of feelings, Mild gore, Canon typical violence, Past Dean Winchester/Lisa Braeden Summary: "He can see the sunburn blooming on Cas’s nose, the messy stubble covering his cheeks, the wet dip right above his lips, his eyes, blue and clear and staring at Dean with a longing that feels like it’s primal and raw and everlasting. And Dean wants to have him, wants to keep this, all of it, but he can’t say it. He doesn’t know how to love him in daylight, doesn’t know how to love him honest." ---- Sequel to "There's a nail", where they take the road trip and try to figure it out.

A Few of My Favorite Things | @zenmuppet Rating: Mature Word Count: 1764 Main Tags and Warnings: established relationship, blowjobs, smut, fluff Summary: Castiel has been human for seven months now, and he has found it increasingly annoying. The endless “maintenance” his body requires is his primary complaint, but he also resents the tedium of being polite, the physical weakness of the human body, and the extreme limitations of his five senses. There are a few tangible things, however, that Cas has found make his humanity bearable. These things make him happy, and he will indulge in them at every opportunity. These things are, in no particular order, coffee, cheeseburgers, driving a car, hot showers, blowjobs, kittens, and day spas.

Just a Sniffle | @almaasi Rating: General Word Count: 2027 Main Tags and Warnings: Canon Universe, Fluff, Schmoop, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Sick Castiel, Human Castiel, Affectionate Dean, Foot Massage, Light Petting, Sharing a Bed, Castiel and Dean Watch Television, Dean Watches Castiel Sleep, Sam Knows Summary: Cas is feeling under the weather. Dean skips a hunt to offer some gentle care – which apparently includes foot rubs.

Hold Your Breath | @anupalya Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2462 Main Tags and Warnings: POV Castiel, Human Castiel, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Light Angst, Father Figures Summary: Castiel has the hiccups.

indisputably human | d_e_marcus (AO3) Rating: Mature Word Count: 5659 Main Tags and Warnings: Fallen Angel Castiel; Sad Castiel; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Castiel Learns to be Human; Depression; References to Depression; Anxiety; Happy Ending Summary: When Castiel’s grace was stripped away, leaving him shockingly, indisputably human, the overwhelming number of sensations that flooded his body brought him to his knees. Or, the one where Castiel loses his grace, becomes human and is Bad at Feelings.™

I've Got The Scars From Tomorrow | @babybluecas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3404 Main Tags and Warnings: canon divergent, fallen!cas, first kiss, fluff and angst Summary: A slight change in Cas’s appearance triggers Dean’s memories of his short trip to the year 2014. Luckily, it’s nothing that can’t be dealt with, with a right amount of shaving cream and a razor. Cas is stubborn, Dean has a story to tell and they both learn something important.

Fall & Rise (WIP) | @blazeeblake Rating: Mature Word Count: 67714 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Fallen Castiel, Dark Castiel, Mary Lives, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Canonical Character Death, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: During the war in Heaven, Castiel falls to earth and ultimately joins Lucifer as a Prince of Hell. Centuries later, he finds himself reluctantly ruling Hell in Lucifer’s stead, embittered by both his circumstances and the decisions that brought him there. But when a plan to to reignite the war surfaces, Castiel is launched into a battle of a different kind, one that pits him against those he once commanded and has him protecting the very beings whose existence led to his exile. On the night of November 2nd, 1983, Castiel’s interference in Hell’s plan brings him in contact with Winchester family, and from that day forward, as they struggle through the repercussions of circumstances that irrevocably change and bind them, they are each of them forced to reexamine their understanding of their place in the world, what they are willing to fight for, and who they truly are.

Your Story Isn't Over Yet | jscribbles (AO3) Rating: Mature Word Count: 75443 Main Tags and Warnings: sam's POV, sex swap, temporary female Cas, pregnant cas, grace baby, mentions of losing a baby, pregnancy, morning sickness, temporary character death, canon divergent, angst, grief, human Cas Summary: One morning, Castiel wakes up suddenly very lady-shaped, and Team Free Will discover that a nephilim grows inside him. Sam has no idea how this could have happened considering Cas was supposed to be human, and Dean seems uninterested in finding out how or why their friend is pregnant and female - but he seems goddamn excited. Castiel retreats into himself, seemingly more depressed than usual. Sam is determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, though the others seem reluctant to discover the origin of the nephilim. Could the answer be right under his nose?

#destiel #writersofdestiel #destielfanficnet #deancasfanficnet #destiel fanfic #tropes #destiel trope collection #fallen!cas #fallen cas

[livvywrites]

a writeblr re-introduction

Hello writeblr!

So, I did one of these intro things a couple of months back, but that was before I figured out how writeblr worked—which meant it felt like it was time for a re-introduction!

My name is Libby, but you can call me Livvy if you like—since that’s the name I plan to publish under! My main-blog is over at @ladytauria, where I do a lot of reblogging of things I like. I’m a 21 year old ace writer living in the US Central time zone, though I keep odd hours which lead to… erratic posting. I’m an avid reader and I love hearing about other people’s writing—particularly in the vein of worldbuilding and characters. So why don’t you give this a reblog if you write:

fantasy or sci-fi of any kind

LGBTQ+ and/or POC leads

a main F/F romance

Also give this a reblog if you post (or reblog):

writing tips and advice

relatable writer things

tag/ask games

moodboards and/or aesthetics

character intros

setting intros & other worldbuilding posts

excerpts of your writing

If you hit any of those boxes, I’ll give you a follow XD

As for myself, I primarily write sci-fi and fantasy, with a focus on LGBT and POC characters.

My main novel is known as THE MARTYR QUEEN the first in an epic fantasy series of indeterminate length. It follows ALINORA MYNERVA, an elven princess who lost her homeland years ago. When she’s visited by the Reaper Elaena, she’s told things are more complicated than they appear. Fate has betrayed the rest of the gods, and convinced the usurper it is his divine mission to end the world and become god of the next. Alinora is the only one who can stand against them, being as she was never meant to exist. Alinora and Elaena are joined by the Slaeyr heirs Lyr and Ava; the pirate and magical genius Talitha Jade; and Alinora’s long estranged Slaeyr sister, Aishlynn Mynerva. With their help, Alinora intends to retake her kingdom… even if it means she has to die trying.

You can find more about it, including a masterlist of everything I’ve posted, through a link in my bio!

Please feel free to flood my inbox or shoot me a message! I love hearing about people’s WIPs and getting asked about my own. (I also really just love making writer friends!!)

For some non-writing things about me, you can click the readmore!

I live with my grandparents in the country. Well, country might be a bit of a stretch. They do own a lot of land, but we only live about a mile outside of town, and have some neighbors nearby. Unfortunately, the area only offers satellite internet, which isn’t too bad most of the time, but doesn’t support things like streaming or big downloads. (On the plus side, this has saved my wallet, as I tend to really think before I buy a game, since I usually have to go somewhere else to buy them.)

I struggle with some health issues, some of which haven’t been identified yet. (Getting to the doctor is hard when you can’t drive and your grandparents are busy!) The main issue is… well. My doctor diagnosed me with asthma, but only because I was/am too young to be diagnosed with COPD. I probably have a combination, to tell the truth. Breathing can be a struggle, especially on hot/humid days. I’ve lived with that my whole life, though—the thing I struggle with most is sleep. I’m always tired, even when I’ve slept between 8 and 12 hours. I have a hard time falling asleep, staying asleep, and getting good sleep. This means days where I have the mental energy to write are… erratic. On the plus side, when I do write, I can churn out 2k or more words, so! Not all bad 😉

Mentally, I deal with anxiety and depression, though the anxiety far more so! It’s primarily social but there’s some general in there too. I have a hard time reaching out to people but I’m always, always happy to talk! Please feel free to message me, flood my inbox, whatever! <3

Enough about my issues, let’s get to the fun stuff, shall we!

I enjoy playing video games—particularly Morrowind, Oblivion, Skyrim, the Dragon Age series, the Mass Effect series, the Uncharted series, Portal, the Sims, and a variety of others.

My music taste is varied, and I like a little bit of everything, though I tend to stick to pop and… I guess you would call it dark pop??? I dunno??? Oh, and Epic Orchestral stuff. (Preferably with lyrics. I like to sing.) Favorite artists would be Kesha, Taylor Swift, Ruelle, Fleurie, Sam Tinnesz, Karliene, VON GREY, SVRCINA, and Avril Lavigne. And honestly, probably more than that. I listen to a lot of different artists and songs, so I could list forever.

I don’t watch a lot of TV, but some shows I enjoyed in the past were Once Upon a Time (up until season 5); Supernatural (up until Season 10); Stranger Things (so not caught up); She-Ra and the Princesses of Power; Steven Universe (so behind); both Avatar series; and an obscure little Disney show by the name of Super Robot Monkey Team Hyper Force Go. Due to the internet streaming issue, though, it’ll be a while before I can catch up on any of those. At least, not if I want to go through Netflix. (I can stream off Wi-Fi on my phone, but I don’t have Netflix on there, nor enough space to download it!)

Movies I’m a lot more varied on. My top favorites (at the moment) are Clueless, Into the Spiderverse, Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit, Moana, and Tangled.

#writeblr community #writeblr #writelr #writers of tumblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #about me #about the writer

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 25/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series.  Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell… D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

George Weasley: Shows a great aptitude in Alchemy along with his brother, Fred Weasley. Try to remember who is who. This one needs to develop his critical thinking skills, it is apparent that both brothers help each other with what the other slacks with. While George has a complete understanding of the laws but as stated before, critical thinking along with a clearer and advanced understanding of the laws. Warning: Chronic prankster.

Rachel McWilliams: If only I could get her a full evaluation, I could only do so much without fully knowing what more I could do for her. There is a difference between knowing something and remembering something. She remembers what she needs to remember and at her convivence, but does not fully understands what she is talking about. I have received several complaints of her constant chatter to the point it severely distracts everyone. There are times she will be quiet, but it is just as unnerving whenever she goes in those quiet tangents. Warning: If she does not follow our warnings, contact Filius.

Yaxley Prang: Has one of the biggest sweet tooth… Emphatic and cares for his housemates. Enjoys creating recipes and figuring out how cooking could be implemented into Alchemy. Makes one mean carrot and zucchini bread. Pomona mentioned to me he dropped an elective to continue studying Alchemy, ended up dropping divination and switched it with ancient ruins and added in muggle studies. Need to talk to him about adding extra classes, last thing we need is him running on caffeine. Warning: Lost his mother at a young age due to that moldy-mort, a very sore subject for him.

Emmeline Evan: Blunt, mature and very warm-hearted. One of the oldest students I have, shows some promise but not enough time to be taught fully. This was a clear example what I warned that cat woman about. Anyway, she has a tendency to be very oblivious to a lot of things and Alchemy cannot be one of them. Even if she see's facts, she does not see the full picture or ask the necessary questions to further her studies. Warning: Don't be surprised if students attempt to woo her and she has no clue what's happening. Very oblivious. (Don't you say anything, Al. )

Alphonse scanned through his brother's paperwork for Wednesday's class, Critical Thinking. Students that require a deeper understanding of the world around them, to think in and out of the box and so on. Important for them to understand that life is filled with color but behind the seams, it's black, white and grays of all shades.

So far, a lot of the students who just passed the entrance exam are skeptical of what was being said to them. A lot of them had an idea what they assumed to be Alchemy and what from what they were told. So far Alphonse kicked out one person just went on how Alchemy is supposed to be, to a wizard/witch point of view. One less student to teach. Let's see if he can bring down the numbers even more.

-.-

"My head..." Edward rasped out, wincing at how dry his throat felt. His arms felt like stone when he attempted to move them. The only thing he felt he could move is his automail foot. Vision blurry made it impossible to figure out where he was at that current moment. 'Where am I?'

Edward suddenly felt metal touch his lips and a cold liquid hitting his lips. The need of quench his thirst overtook his mind to question what he was being forced to drink but that was overthrown. His thirst won over and when the liquid touched his tongue, the eldest Elric Brother felt warmth filled his entire body. Feeling began to return and his vision becoming clearer. Once his sight returned fully to him, he saw that it was Severus holding a goblet up to his lips. The liquid in said goblet smelled like peppermint, rosemary, and… feverfew? Whatever it was, it was helping him get rid of the constant ache in his head. "Zank you."

Severus could only raise an eyebrow at hearing Edward's voice. Edward had started to lose his heavily accented voice, pronouncing English words easily and nearly fluently. Still had hints of Amestrian but nothing when he first met him. Now? It's like right back to the beginning for Edward. "How do you feel?"

"I feel like schit. Put vadeffer you kaffe me is making it ko avay." Edward slurred out, feeling sleep taking over him again. "Vat did you make drink…"

Severus watched Edward slurred out his words before returning to a magic induced sleep. This would be the last time the young man be forced to drink a sleeping drought. It was heavily diluted to help with the concussion Edward is suffering from. From what Poppy told him, that Edward is almost in the clear but needed one more potion and a long rest before going about his normal business. Well, normal business for Edward Elric.

"How is he?"

Severus turned around to see Alphonse entering the room from the second entrance of the room. "I gave him the last required potion. It would have been a fast process if he allowed Madam Pomfrey to use magic and fully utilizing my potions, but considering his stance towards that…"

"His stance against magic in or on his body…I know." Alphonse let out a despondent sigh. "He would rather suffer through the pain than make it go away quickly with magic. Don't use it against him, he already does that enough as it is."

"I know."

-.-

"The main colors of the wedding are red and gold?" Izumi attempted to describe the color of dress she needed to get for Edward and Winry's wedding. She was asked by Edward to stand in as the Mother of the Groom and right now, she is looking for a dress along with Gracia, Elicia and Riza. "I want something like this…"

Gracia could only chuckle and show complete apprehension at how Izumi described the dress she wanted. She turned her attention to another attendant of the bridal shop. She was asked to become the Mother of the Bride and wedding planner. Her daughter is to be the flower girl and have Black Hayate be the ring bearer. Riza is the Maid of Honor and is currently debating type of dress she wanted to wear for the wedding. Winry had gave free reign of her wedding. The only rules she did put in is that the colors are red and gold, no bachelorette or bachelor parties, and nothing to revealing. A simple country, fairy-tail inspired wedding. At least Pinako managed to convince her to not it all themed Automail and machines. That was a clear second. "For the bridesmaid's dresses, could we avoid lace, open-backs and something not to heavy? Color? Dark gold, of a dark enough yellow to pass it off…"

Gracia didn't need to look back to see how Riza let out a sigh of relief when she rejected a dress that would have been perfect, but the back had a see-through lace showing off the back. "Something like this back the back covered."

"Mommy, could my friend come to the wedding?"

"We'll have to ask Winry, dear. Which friend?"

"His name is…"

-.-

Alphonse slowly edged towards the trapdoor that was the only form of entrance and exit of the Divination Tower. The Divination Professor is freaking him out and is professing his future, past and present death. Now she is going on about how the color of his eyes only proceeds death of everyone that connects with him and his brother. "Truth… if this is your twisted away of punishing me… you've done it."

-.-

Terrence Higgs: One of my start students along with George and Fred. Despite coming from a Pure-Blood background, he does not see blood or house colors. See's the world as it is and from what he described, the Higgs are a Gray Family. Have him go over arrays and elemental alchemy. It may be too advanced for him, but I believe he could make it. Warning: He had to drop several classes to continue taking Alchemy and Quidditch. Keep in contact with Severus to see where he stands.

Edmond Mortin: I swear this kid's voice is so deep! Whenever he talks it's like a cross between Sid and Major Armstrong! The kid enjoys scaring the crap out of people and joins Fred and George in their pranks. Loves pranks. Very much… I might get this kid to transmutate something before he leaves the school. Warning: Only makes himself known when he wants to. Knows every rumor that goes around this school.

Wynne Rabnott: I swear she's like a mini Major General Armstrong in terms of being 'icy' towards everyone around her. Can't blame her, her family came from a primary non-magical background but quickly married into magic and allowed money to talk for them. She's with that boyfriend of hers due to the fact 'he's of good stock', I swear I never understand how their family make her face theses views. She is has a good balance but needs to have all aspects put together. Warning: She has that death like stare…be warned.

Nathaniel Praxley: May be Pure-Blood, but his family cares enough to suck in their pride to get help in a non-magical means. Found out he has a mild case of dyslexia, working with his parents, Filius and the doctor that diagnosed him. I believe I found a way to help him study. Now we have to find a way to raise up his self-esteem, the kid doesn't believe he's smart enough for Ravenclaw. If only he knew, the kid knows his stuff and doesn't even fully realize what he's truly capable of. Warning: I've heard many of his housemates are tormenting him, have to get one of my older students from the same house to watch over him.

Thursday Class.

Balance.

This day and the next, then hopefully Edward will be ready to get back to teaching. Alphonse could only wonder how his brother managed to get through teaching last year. To think that last year he would be teaching on his own. Oh truth… he takes back everything he ever told his brother about being a teacher. He'll be the one that would murder a student… or horribly maim them.

"Sir, isn't alchemy just a form of lost magical art form? Creating gold and such?"

"…Get out."

-.-

'I feel like I should start gloating…?'

#Alchemy Series #Tiny Steps #FMA #FMAB #HP #HP/FMA #HP/FMAB #Crossover #AU #Fanfic