#my guardian angel looks like gerard way

[nothingrecords]

professional griefers was the 1,111th song in my liked songs. 

[mychemstat]

Queen of the Night- My Chemical Romance

Summary: Gerard was fifteen years late to her dawning. She wouldn’t care much if that wasn’t all she heard about every single fucking day, either from the maidens outside the gates, or even the ones whispering in the walls of her palace. Attending dawning ceremonies all over the country and feeling a murder of sympathetic eyes on her had made her bitter and bored. She would spend her days at the hookah clubs in town, head buried between the cream-colored lace-clad thighs of waitresses and unhappily married women, giving them the first and probably the best orgasm of their life before kissing the back of their hand softly, never to be seen again. As a result, Michael, her younger sibling, was always on edge, covering up her mess, wanting to keep the Decree of Dawn far away from their palace. But when two helpers deployed by the Decree, Frank and Ray, are assigned to the Way Manor to conduct their first ever new Dawning on Gerard, things take a heated turn for the worst. Author's note and warnings: minors dni please. vampire femcr. smut. frerard and rikey. maybe ill add pete wentz for fun who knows. enjoy!! idk when ill update but ill try my best <3

The Way Manor, Cynthia. 

Epiphyllum Oxypetalum, often known as the Queen of the Night blooms after sunset. Sharp and crisp petals fall apart to reveal a softer, more delicate flower underneath: like a full moon against the midnight sky. It taunts its beauty, proud and angelic, riding its glorious high before the inevitable eclipse of its prime. 

Gerard has been pressing these flowers between the pages of her brown leatherback diary since she was five years old. The garden of her father’s palace was lavishly decorated in the spring (he spared no expense). Every spring, these were planted along the edge of the greenery and fifteen minutes past six in the evening, right before supper, Gerard would sneak off in her day gown to watch them bloom, a candle caged between her dainty, pale fingers, as she plucked them off and hit them in the pockets of her gown. 

She never told anyone of her habit, however normal it was as a young girl to like flowers at the time, giggling whenever the housekeepers complained about this ‘flower thief.’ It was her secret. 

And maybe her father’s too, sometimes. She painted the flowers in detail till rigid paint stains covered her lily white gown; and she would skip over to her father’s chambers, crying out, “Look what I made!” 

He ruffled her hair and pressed an adoring kiss to her forehead before he hung the canvas up on the royal blue walls of his study. Once Gerard turned sixteen, her father requested that his deathbed be moved into the study; he wanted her paintings to be his last memory of the earth, he explained, barely able to croak out the sentence as Gerard stood in the corner, quiet staccato sobs seeping into the canvas. 

Her trips to the garden shortened over the next few years, her spine stood taller, canvases grew darker, like she invented a new color of melancholy; her sister, Michael, after a few months, called it over emotional with a twinge of blood red and black. 

Michael was reserved, not as expressive as Gerard, but not heartless. She didn’t eat for days after the passing of her father, and Gerard had to sit by her bed and take care of her before she got back up on her feet. Michael made fun of Gerard for worrying too much and Gerard then knew she was okay. 

When Michael approached dawning, Gerard assumed the role of her guardian. Gerard, older than her and still not having dawned, tried her best to push feelings of being left out and made sure her baby sister was taken care of, now that only housekeepers and maidens roamed the halls.

Michael developed an aversion to sunlight during her first dawning and Gerard installed heavier, more opaque curtains, giving candle shops back in town more business than they had ever seen. Vials of crimson liquid reflecting the candle flames, struck the hottest glare into Michael’s eyes, and Gerard would hear her wail all night before her newfound thirst died for the night. She was safe to be fed then, and only then . 

It was all about contro l, their mother’s diary read. Gerard narrated it into melodies and sang them softly over the piano in Michael’s room, noticing the way her sister’s eyebrows moved the slightest in amusement. 

“Control your teeth, control your eyes, control your mind before you wilt and die.”

Michael lied when she needed to. When she had to. A lot of the time she felt like the older sibling in the family, a calculated mind outsmarting all others. She knew Gerard had a good soul and that she would never outright admit wishing it was her who dawned earlier. 

“Mi, is she just as dramatic as she seems?” Gerard once asked, lifting her fingers momentarily from the black and white keys to face her sister who had her pupils blown wide open. 

Michael hesitated for a fraction of a second before wincing out loud, “I am in so much pain, she exaggerated of course, you know how she was.” 

The truth was: Michael felt alive for the first time in her life. Sure, she wasn’t being completely dishonest about her pain, but it didn’t exactly sting her after the first hour. Rather, it grew dull and insignificant with every meal. Her blood ran cold, yet she felt like she could breathe for the first time in her life. And she wanted so badly to tell Gerard all about it; she was her best friend after all. 

But because she was the only person Michael would ever live, lie, kill, die, do whatever it took for, she stood silent.

Gerard was fifteen years late to her dawning. She wouldn’t care much if that wasn’t all she heard about every single fucking day, either from the maidens outside the gates, or even the ones whispering in the walls of her palace. Attending dawning ceremonies all over the country and feeling a murder of sympathetic eyes on her had made her bitter and bored. She would spend her days at the hookah clubs in town, head buried between the cream-colored lace-clad thighs of waitresses and unhappily married women, giving them the first and probably the best orgasm of their life before kissing the back of their hand softly, never to be seen again. 

Michael often found her smoking in some alleyway, hiding from the flock of women around town looking for her, and her sister would have their carriage escort her back to the palace, throwing judgmental looks at the maroon marks on her neck. 

“You know that the Decree is to visit the palace soon, no? What are they going to think about,” Michael pauses, gesturing towards her sister’s neck in disgust, “all of that .”

“Oh, who cares? I have plenty of scarves. I find it hard to believe that the Decree of Cynthia will-”

“It is not them.” Michael stated and looked out the window, her glasses bobbing up and down with the bumps on the road.

“What the fuck do they want? You’re done with your dawning aren’t you? I’m not sharing anything about our decree either, and those women don’t suspect a thing especially because I haven’t dawned.”

“That’s the point, Gerard.” A lull fell over the carriage, nothing to be heard but the click-clacking of horseshoes against the unpaved roads of the town side. Of course , it came back to her dawning, God forbid they ever ever let that go. 

Gerard bit the inside of her cheek, “So what? Do they intend to force my dawning? Has that ever even been done before?”

“I’ve heard stories,” Michael commented, deep in thought, “Someone in Camellia was successful, but that is about all I have heard.”

“Did they at least tell you who is coming?” Gerard paused, a glint starring in her eyes, “Are they women?”

“Do not even think about bedding the helpers of the Decree of Dawn.” Gerard had never seen Michael this agitated, except when she caught her crying over her broken cello, as if they couldn’t fill the entire palace with cellos and still have enough money to buy the entire town. 

The older woman smiled, soothing the younger’s nerves. That’s how things worked between them. Gerard would get a kick out of making Michael concerned beyond belief, and they would forget about it immediately after. 

Losing Michael was the worst thing that could happen, according to Gerard; she was not afraid of much. Her baby sister was her only priority, especially after the rest of their family had passed. 

Her romantic life wasn’t worthy of mention; none of her escapades involved love, simply pure bouts of dopamine. For the fairytale-like romance that her parents had, she needed someone like her. Some non-human. Someone who understood her needs: maybe even shared them.

So at night, when loneliness grew like black mold and etched scratches in her heart, and her ribcage tugged so hard that her chest felt like it would burst open, she painted. Herself, her brushes, and some late night smoke-filled affairs. She could not be bothered anymore about her dawning. She already had everything she needed. She was satisfied. 

She did not wish for change. Not at all. 

*

Juliet Docks, Camellia

“Frank Iero and Raymond Toro; Way Manor for ten months.” The voice in the atrium echoed and Raymond’s fingers fisted the puffy fabric of Frank’s dress pants, making her hiss in surprise. 

Frank’s heart had started beating again (as much as it could for someone of his kind), and she sighed in relief before glancing at her chum with the shiny brown curls and a hopeful grin facing the front of the room. The tie around Frank’s neck felt like a noose before their assignment was announced, and now it hung lower, unbuttoning the first few knobs on her dress shirt in the process. 

She leaned into the taller woman’s ear, almost resting her chin on her shoulder, chapped lips ghosting over her neck, “Can we please leave now?”

And they did, the shorter’s wobbly legs hardly making it out of the assignment room as nausea and bile sank lower in her torso. 

“Can you believe this? The Way Manor? We must have saved the world in our past lives.” Raymond wondered out loud, arms hooking Frank’s as they walked out of the tent, onto the gravel ridden path lit by the moonlight. 

Frank reached behind her ear adorned by a tiny pearl resting atop the lobe and plucked a cigarette out, Raymond lighting it as a reflex. “My stomach has been in knots all day, Ray,” her voice had softened, stopping in her tracks to inhale.

“Frankie, it is less than a year,” Ray stroked her thumb over Frank’s as her gaze tracked the smoker’s movement, “Besides, I will be there with you. We have nothing to fear, right?”

The shorter woman shrugs, clouding her face before clutching the cigarette between her rosy lips, “We have only ever seen a new Dawning once, and Ray…” She trails off, not wanting to say what she wanted to out loud; as if that would make it true. 

Ray sighed; she had heard this from Frankie a hundred times before, “You know it won’t be like that, Frankie. That was years ago, and we barely knew anything about them then.”

“I am not sure. I feel a tempest brewing beneath my chest. Like something inevitable is coming.”

“The time of our lives at a palace for ten months and maybe a few bad nights? I cannot wait a single day either.”

Frank giggled at Ray’s complete lack of consideration for her overdriven thoughts and linked arms again, “Do you have to be so happy all the time?”

“You would be lying on your cot covered in bottles of absinthe if it weren’t for me dragging you out of there.”

Frankie drops her head in defeat, making the taller one straighten her back, “Who knows, maybe one of the Ways look exactly like Jacki-”

Frank shot her best friend a desperate look, begging her to stop talking, “She is the reason I signed up for this. I need to take my mind off her, so I would appreciate it if you did not mention my most recent gut wrenching heartbreak that had me draining those jars of absinthe in the first place, thank you very much.”

The two looked around the dock, watching parents bid their children goodbye, hugging and crying into their shoulders as their luggage was thrown onto the boats haphazardly. The raging wind had Camellians clutching their coats and hats, making Frank and Ray seek shelter under a beaten wooden shed. It was going to rain, presumably, the tacky air and petrichor overwhelming their senses. 

Frank sipped the last of the stick hanging between her lips before putting the embers out on her tongue and tucking it back behind her ear. Her silence had tipped Ray off to place a soothing touch on the small of her back. She knew Frank better than herself, and Frank was painfully aware of that. 

“It will be good for us, Frankie.” Ray reassures the younger one, ruffling her hair before pulling her in by her shoulders, “I know it will.”

_________________________________________________________

I don't know when the next update will be, but I am genuinely looking forward to writing this because it has been a while since I have delved into supernatural concepts. Please comment and let me know if you liked it :) Thanks for reading xx. 

[rdiowx]

angel gerard who is basically like our gerard, singer, song writer, frontman for the band, but they also are an angel. they liked to visit earth and pretend to be a human for a while just to have some fun. after seeing the calamity and destruction and hurt that humans can cause he decides he needs to stay on earth for a while and makes a band. at some point he meets a fan of MCR, maybe on this tour or maybe somewhere else, and something about them just. clicks. sure he had met Lindsey and they hit it off great but this is far different, much more deep and primal like some sort of instinct. it's like he needs to protect them at all costs.

of course. they are this human's guardian angel, how could they not tell right away? the thing was. guardian angels are never supposed to meet their humans directly or the result will be an... extremely over protective angel that will fight tooth and nail if anyone even so much as touches their human. They know this is not good. they know this could possibly end in bloodshed. they know all of that and yet they just can't seem to pull themself away from you, from your conversation, from staring at you. They try so hard but they can't, by the end of your sentence they're panting like a dog in heat and you're concerned the gerard motherfuckin way is possibly dying right in front of you.

Gerard looks around before taking a deep breath and saying "You seem really cool and I'd like to talk to you more but I don't think I can stand for much longer, with my old joints and stuff, do you want to come with me to the dressing rooms?" this was a bluff. of course it was. but he was gonna try anything to get you to come with him. he knew it sounded suspicious, but you agreed anyways and he lead you back stage. next thing you knew was you had a collar around your neck and the door was locked in an instant. "This is for your own good. I need to protect you from this horrible world."

EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH

[the-and-sign-anon]

Best Laid Plans

Guardian Angel: Chapter Ten

Teen Wolf x Stilinski! Reader

Word count: 1,657

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Your dad did everything he could at the school before leaving with a promise from Scott and Isaac to contact him if they heard from Stiles. You offered to join him to meet with the medical examiner, but he said you should go get some rest. Once he was out of sight, you turned to the boys. 

“Okay, I think we all know I’m not getting a second of rest until we find Stiles. You two can track him by scent, right?”

Scott answered by ripping the door off Stiles’s locker and grabbing some of his clothes. He passed a shoe to Isaac while he held up a shirt. 

“How come you get his shirt and I’m stuck with a shoe?”

You all turned to go, but stopped at the sight of Derek. 

“We need to talk.”

You nearly screamed when Peter stepped up beside him. 

“All of us.”

Scott looked ready to faint. You took a few steps forward and Derek grabbed you just as you launched at Peter with your hands balled into fists. Peter simply stepped back and gave you a vaguely offended look. 

“I’m going to murder you with my bare hands!”

“Take a breath, Y/N. No one’s killing him yet.”

You turned your glare on Derek, but he just stared you down until you stopped fighting. 

“Can I let you go?”

“...yes.” You muttered your answer and he gently set you down. 

“What exactly is happening?”

Scott looked mad, so Derek glared at him. 

“You know, I was wondering the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the sherriff’’s station.”

“You did what?”

Derek felt the smallest measure of satisfaction as you demanded an explanation from your young friend. 

“He-he threatened to kill my mom! And I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do?”

“I’m gonna go with Scott on this one.” None of you wanted to hear Peter’s opinion, but he shared it anyway. “Have you seen his mom? She’s gorgeous.”

The three of you turned to yell at him in unison, “Shut up!”

Isaac looked to you as he asked quietly, “Who is he?”

“Peter Hale. Derek’s uncle. Number one on my list of people to murder if I ever snap and go on a rampage.”

Scott offered a more informative answer. 

“A little while back, he tried to kill us. We set him on fire and Derek slashed his throat.”

Peter gave a friendly wave, which you rolled your eyes at. 

“That’s good to know.”

“How is he alive?”

“Look, the short version is this: he knows how to stop Jackson… and maybe how to save him.”

“Well, that would be great, but… Jackson’s dead.”

Derek and Peter tilted their heads. Under better circumstances, you might have laughed at how similar the two could be sometimes. 

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nodded in confirmation. “He just clawed himself in the guts on the field.”

Isaac looked around at the concerned expressions the rest of you wore. 

“Why is no one talking about this like it’s a good thing?”

“Because if Jackson is dead, it didn’t just happen.”

“Gerard wanted it to happen.” You ignored the look Peter gave you as you finished his thought. 

“But why?”

“That’s exactly what we need to figure out. And something tells me our window of opportunity is closing. Rapidly.”

You called your dad on the way to the Hale house. He told you Stiles was home, a little worse for wear, but safe. When he told you some kids from the other team had roughed him up, you knew Stiles was covering for something worse. You promised to be on your way home soon, then followed the boys into the burned out house for the first time in six years. 

“I told you, I already looked everywhere.”

Derek watched Peter walk up a few steps and pull a board aside, then reach for something hidden there. 

“You didn’t look here.”

Peter stood with a thick object in his hands, carefully blowing off the dust gathered on it. 

“What is that, a book?”

He gave his nephew a mocking look. 

“No, it’s a laptop. What century are you living in? A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren’t the only ones who keep records.”

You helped Peter and Derek look through the information their family had on kanimas while Scott and Isaac went to the hospital. 

“Y/N, maybe you should go home.”

Your head snapped up to look at Derek. 

“What?”

“Whatever’s going on with Jackson now, we can deal with it. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Derek, we had a deal. I’m your guardian angel, remember? I can’t leave now.”

“Stiles already got beat up by the hunters and he hasn’t even done anything. Your dad nearly got shot by an insane teenager. How do you think they’ll feel if you get hurt now? Your dad won’t understand, but Stiles will.”

“We share an inability to stay out of trouble. It runs in the family.”

“You’re adopted.”

“Irrelevant.”

Derek tried to argue further, but his phone rang. Scott tried to explain what they were seeing as Peter pulled up an image of what Jackson was turning into. 

“They say he’s in some kind of transparent casing made from the venom coming out of his claws.”

“That sounds sufficiently terrifying.”

“Not leaving.”

“They also say he’s starting to move.”

You stared in wonder at the alpha form of the kanima. If you were a more sane person, you might have run away screaming. Instead, you clicked on the animation to get a better idea. 

“Maybe it’s less terrifying if-”

A screeching sound came from the speakers and Peter snapped the laptop shut.

“Nope.”

“Not at all.”

Peter turned to Derek, who still had his phone out. 

“Maybe we should meet them halfway.”

“Scott, get him out of there now! Go!”

You were out the door first, barely taking notice of the Hales stopping to argue again. You had the car running by the time they joined you and you set off together. Peter kept you close while Derek tried to kill Jackson. As much as you hated agreeing with Peter, you believed that Lydia could save him. If he survived the night, you had some choice words for Derek. 

As the other Argents arrived and an all out brawl began, Peter nudged you behind him to keep you out of danger. You would have fought him on it, but your hand went to your necklace and your vision went blank. Peter was so focused on the fight and the reveal of Gerard’s plan that he didn’t notice what was happening to you. 

A blanket of white covered everything in front of you. The faint voices of your friends disappeared beneath a humming sound that grew louder each second until it seemed to rattle your brain. When you raised a hand to your head, it stopped. A figure appeared in front of you with a gentle smile. 

“Hello, dear. It’s been some time since I saw you last.”

You squinted into the light and shook your head. 

“It’s alright. I only want to help.”

“With Jackson…?”

You focused on the light laughter you received in response to your dazed question. 

“Oh, that’s none of our concern.”

“People are dying. My friends are getting hurt.”

“Well, that’s what people do, I’m afraid. It’s unavoidable. What you need to worry about is your grace. I can’t imagine why you haven’t opened it yet. Don’t you want to return home?”

“Who are you?”

You tried to take a step back, but you couldn’t move. 

“Your grace will remind you. I’m a very old friend.”

“That’s not enough of an answer for me. And where am I?”

The woman started pacing lightly, taking long elegant steps in her flowing white gown. She looked, simply put, angelic. 

“You’re in a state between the living and the dead. You’re home. But not for long, without your grace. So long as you’re human, you’ll be separated from where you belong. Humans cannot remain in the home of angels without severe side effects, so we have very little time.”

“Why would you bring me here now? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m in the middle of a dangerous situation.”

“You’ll be fine. Scott McCall is neutralizing the threat as we speak. All your loved ones will see tomorrow. I wanted to speak with you because you’ve been missed here.”

“Just let me go back. Please.”

“I have to. But we’ll see each other again. When you’re ready, your grace is waiting. And so am I.”

The light faded, taking the woman with it. You dropped to your knees as the warehouse came back into view. Behind you, the fighting had stopped. The warehouse was illuminated by the headlights of Stiles’s Jeep, showing Jackson alive and well with everyone staring at him in shock. Gerard had managed to disappear again. 

“Y/N!”

Peter finally seemed to remember he’d left you defenseless and ran back to get you. He helped you to your feet with a questioning look. 

“What happened?”

“You didn’t see?”

“I- I don’t know.”

Everything after Peter pushed you behind him was a blank space in your mind. You weren’t sure how you could have been completely unaware of what had transpired in the last ten minutes, but it was simply gone. You shook your head slowly and Peter led you back to the others.

After that night, your odd dreams started again. Most of them slipped away when you woke up, leaving only a deep sense of confusion. Others stuck in your memory and gnawed at the back of your mind all day. You knew one thing for certain as you pretended to return to normal. The necklace was far from finished with you and it wouldn’t let you forget it.

Season Three

[robinrunsfiction]

Gerard Way Stories

Weapons of Clairvoyance - Gerard and YN team up with some familiar faces against an evil corporation (Teen, modern fantasy AU, multichapter)

The Spaces That Divide Us - Part 2 of Weapons of Clairvoyance -  Gerard, YN, and the gang head south to investigate sinister reports at a private school for troubled boys (Teen, modern fantasy AU, multichapter)

Make You Moan - Danger Days era smut (Mature, oneshot)

Vampires Will Never Hurt You - A recently turned vampire is caught trying to get their next meal (General, Vampire!Gerard AU, oneshot)

Cubicles - Gerard had been living in a soul-sucking grey cubicle world until he gets to know his coworker (General, office AU, oneshot)

Sunrise - Pre-Bullets era fluff (General, oneshot)

Neighborly - 2019 Valentine’s Challenge fluff (General, oneshot)

Something Borrowed - Confusion regarding a dress code leads to clarity on feelings (General, oneshot)

My Monster - YN is trying to navigate a new relationship while hiding the fact that she is in fact a vampire (General, Vampire!Reader AU, oneshot)

When You Weren’t Looking - Fluff written in first person pov (General, oneshot)

Death of a Bachelor - YN accompanies Gerard as his plus one to a family wedding. Fluff ensues (General, oneshot)

Our Galaxy, Not So Far Away - Basement Gee movie night fluff (General, oneshot)

Vices - Smoking, flirting, and other bad habits (General, oneshot)

Three Times You and Gerard Almost Got Caught, And One Time You Didn’t - It is what it says it is (Teen, oneshot)

Misconception - Changes of plans, full voicemails, and assumptions can make for an interesting evening (General, oneshot)

Cooperation - Group projects can be the worst, or the best (General, High School AU, oneshot)

Rooftops and Drivers Seats - Punks are hot. (Mature, College-aged AU, oneshot)

Blood Moon Part 1 - Falling in love with a monster is a dangerous fate (Teen, Victorian Vampire!Gerard AU, part 1 of 2)

Blood Moon Part 2 - Do you believe in reincarnation? (Teen, Vampire!Gerard AU, part 2 of 2)

Have You Heard the News That You’re Dead? - Guardian demons are a thing. Unfortunately they don’t have quite the same work ethic as their angel counterparts (Teen, Demon!Gerard AU, oneshot)

Heaven Help Me - There are risks associated with channeling the spirit realm. But there are perks too. (Teen, Demon!Reader AU, oneshot)

Day and Night - The goth one is in love with the sunshine one. (General, Vampire!Reader AU, oneshot)

Falling For You (Gerard Way x Gender Neutral Reader)

Twelve Days of Christmas (And Winter) Stories 2019 - Day 7 (Gerard Way x Gender Neutral Reader)

The Lonely Road (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

The Lonely Road Part 2 - Home Again (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

My Blue Heaven (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Not Alone (Gerard Way x Gender Neutral Reader)

My Little Quarantine (Gerard Way x Gender Neutral Reader)

Swing Life Away (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Just Like My Favorite Scenes (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Experiments (Gerard Way x Female Reader smut)

I See Stars (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Millions (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

I Can’t Always Just Forget Her (Gerard Way x Female Reader drabble)

Sleep (Gerard Way x Gender Neutral Reader drabble)

Poetry (Gerard Way x Gender Neutral Reader drabble)

Unfathomable (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

First Kiss (Gerard Way x Female Reader drabble)

Safe Here (Gerard Way x Female Reader drabble)

Kiss It better (Gerard Way x Female Reader smut drabble)

Baby, You’re A Haunted House (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

A Long Way Back - Part 1 (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

A Long Way Back - Part 2 (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

The Moment I Knew (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Winter/Christmas Alphabet 2020 - K (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Winter/Christmas Alphabet 2020 - P (Gerard Way x Gender Neutral Reader)

Attached to You (Gerard Way x Gender Neutral Reader)

Learning Curve (Gerard Way x Female Reader smut)

They Were Friends (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Vampire-tine’s Day 2021 - Day 1 (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Vampire-tine’s Day 2021 - Day 2 (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

Happy Birthday (Gerard Way x Female Reader)

You Must Like Me For Me (Gerard Way x Non-Binary Reader)

Just Sleep (Gerard Way x Siren Reader)

You’ll Never Fight Alone (Gerard Way x Female Reader High School AU)

Cutting Me Open, Then Healing Me Fine (Gerard Way x Reader) 

Forgotten and Found (Gerard Way x Reader)

They Can Fix Me Proper With A Bit of Luck (Gerard Way x Reader)

If You Kiss Me (Gerard Way x Reader)

[littlelambdrgnfly]

Related to that John ask; I always feel very strangely connected to John, and I'm not entirely sure why. I look up to him a hell of a lot obviously but there's also just this weird feeling there that I can't explain? I always said it was because of pain. He went through pain and he used it and was open about it, cause we really understood it in a way other people don't, he found the beauty in it even. I feel like if I were to tell any Beatle my troubles John would be the one that would know exactly what it's like. So maybe its the pain or maybe its the mystery. John Lennon was a strange man, and there's so many things said and written about him, people building different versions of him left and right, probably more than any other Beatle. The fact that no one will know who truely was John Lennon except the people who knew him (and even then a lot of them don't really know him) is the most endearing thing. And in a way I want him to be proud of me, after all he's my idol, I want to know that if he were to met me or watch over me ever, he'd like me. I hope he likes me.

I know exactly how you feel. I’m not exactly a stranger to being obsessed with a musician (hi Gerard Way), but there’s always been something different about John! I used to say it was because of our shared pain and trauma too, even though our lives are completely different... Now I can recognize it’s more than likely the trauma caused by being neurodivergent in a neurotypical society (and queer in a hetero society), as well as family scars. To be 110% honest, I recognized autistic traits in John long before I did in myself (as well as the guy I had a crush on who reminded me of John)! But on the bright side, that helped me realize some difficult truths about myself. I like to think that he watches over everyone who needs him, like a guardian angel. I talk to him a lot, and it’s really comforting. I hope he likes me too. <3

[armedinkblot]

An Unnecessarily In-Depth Look into Moira O’Deorain

Under the cut is a long-winded examination into Moira and how I presume she became the cunning, sly mad scientist we know today. I wrote it out during quarantine because why not. This has been peer-reviewed and modified via an Overwatch/art Discord server. Please refer to the bottom of the post for my evidence/citations.

Let’s start with her twisted state of mind (the reason most of us love her, let’s be real). I believe Angela’s best interest in the safety of living creatures was a main contributing factor. It makes sense to me to think Angela reported her research to the higher ups out of fear of Moira "partaking in unethical procedures on living creatures", especially considering Moira’s published paper that was all on modifying genetics. Angela got painted as the good guy angel for exposing that, when Moira was only using time-tested experiments on rabbits, not like she was testing on humans. Yes, Angela was probably actually scared that Moira was being cruel and enjoying it too much (which she might have been, we don’t know) and was worried it might escalate. I don’t think Angela had any idea it would blow up that badly and ruin Moira’s entire career.

Whether or not Moira has always had a mad scientist inside of her is debatable, seeing as she presumably did graduate from a university at some point to be a renowned geneticist. Universities typically do not like or condone insane experiments and such antics, though in order to publish such a terrifying and controversial paper takes some kind of mental instability. Taking that into account, this means that either Moira is a better actor than we thought and had everyone fooled, or Angela and Overwatch just broke her completely. We won’t know unless Blizzard gives us more backstory. (Please give us some kind of lore, I am begging.)

Now, next we analyze the timeline we have (at the moment, Blizzard likes retconning). With Retribution, the comics, her release trailer shown at Blizzcon, and her origin story, I believe this paints a pretty tidy picture.

Here is my take on Moira’s descent into the manipulative witch she became.

Moira and Angela worked together somewhere, probably Overwatch based on Moira’s lab coat skin.

Moira publishes a paper about genetic and neurological reconditioning, dealing with cells. Her results are irreplicable and sketchy, damaging her reputation. Overwatch kept her working on smaller projects.

Moira either didn’t like or didn’t trust the biotech and opted for experimentation on rabbits, seen as unethical and cruel by the scientific community.

Angela reported her to the higher ups, most likely out of fear of things escalating because of her paper. Overwatch fires her.

At this last hit to her reputation, Moira’s lab is completely defunded and shut down, and she loses her right to practice science. At some point in this period, Angela stole some notes from Moira, which are found in Switzerland.

She continues to live in the abandoned lab and experiments on herself out of the public eye, causing the scarring on her right arm. This is likely due to not being able to afford new lab rabbits. Meanwhile, around this time, Blackwatch is created.

Moira joins Blackwatch as their medic without Overwatch’s high officials’ knowledge and begins testing on Gabe. Angela does not interact/interacts very little with Moira at this time that we know of.

Moira joins Talon behind the scenes, probably because of the unlimited funding and shared gray morals (sacrificing lives for humanity’s progression, for example).

Amelie is kidnapped by Talon. Part way through her neural reconditioning Overwatch saves her, though she kills Gerard and goes back. Let me point out that Moira is, as far as we know, the only geneticist capable of making such heavy modifications to someone’s DNA/body.

Gabe acts insanely out of character by killing Antonio, to which Moira appears very satisfied with a smug smirk and neat posture.

Overwatch falls apart because of it, likely part of Talon’s plan that Moira played a large part in.

Gabe joins Talon with Moira and Widowmaker, while Moira joins the higher ranking scientific officials in Oasis as Minister of Genetics.

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Now for the tidbits of information that backs up my theory and provides evidence. To start, a lot of the information I’ve gathered comes from the official Gamepedia, the Blizzcon 2017 transcript, and her page on the website. Here are the rest, including hyperlinks. Hyperlinks are in italics.

Her origin story:

She worked for Overwatch, but someone eventually "silenced" her. She states they were holding back her research due to ethics.

She leaves her lab in her lab coat, which she is seen in when Blackwatch comes to get her, meaning she’s more than likely still at the abandoned lab.

She experiments on Gabe, which the artist of the video admits he’s terrified of.

Retribution event:

Her ease with the execution, and the fact she smirks and just seems so... satisfied with his performance shows to me that she was expecting this behavior. (Just according to keikaku...)

She seems mostly unphased for the rest of the escape sequence.

Voice lines:

She and Amelie have an interaction where she asks, “How are you feeling, Lacroix?” Amelie very sharply responds, "I don’t feel. That’s the point, isn’t it?". Amelie phrasing the last part as a question proves Moira knows what happened to her, Moira being the one most likely to have done the work.

Angela and Moira’s first interaction ("Describing your work as unethical would be a kindness." "But the true question is whether or not you can deny my discoveries? no, I didn’t think so.") hints that they worked together sometime, to the point Angela knew how Moira’s experiments worked.

Moira also mocks Angela when she kills her, saying "Our guardian angel~" in a dry, sarcastic tone, hinting that Angela harmed her in the past and Moira found it satisfying to get back.

Comics:

In Legacy, Ana and Jack are seen pursuing Talon agents in Overwatch uniforms. Ana gets shot by Widowmaker, who was already converted. This means Amelie was taken while Overwatch was still together, therefore before the Venice Incident. Seeing as Moira was the one operating on Amelie based on common sense, she had been working for Talon behind Blackwatch’s back.

In Retribution, an explosion goes off that kills hundreds and severely injures Gerard. Jack seems uneasy with Gabe’s response to the incident, asking him to rethink if hunting Antonio down will help in the long run. At the end of the comic Gabe is portrayed with shadows like Reaper’s owl skull mask, hinting that Moira’s experiments had messed with his head a tad.

Other sources:

Angela and Moira both have each others' work in their labs in the Switzerland and Oasis maps, respectively, as well as confirmation from Michael Chu that they have a deep background history with each other. (See Participant #3 in this hyperlink)

Moira named her test rabbit from her origin story "Better Angela" out of spite; Angela had to have done SOMETHING to deserve that.

Moira replicated the Valkyrie suit to a degree, meaning either they worked together or Moira stole it and adapted it for her biotech needs. (Also see Participant #3 in this hyperlink.)

Angela and Moira both have sprays that clearly show they were once friends (or at least colleagues), namely the ones in front of the Overwatch logo and “Shadow” and “Light”.

Moira wears a headpiece like devil horns, most definitely to spite Angela’s halo.

I am more than happy to hear any feedback or additions to this whole thing, and if you’ve made it all the way through I appreciate it greatly. I know it’s long-winded and I could’ve made it much shorter, but I wanted to cover all the bases I could.

Thank you.

[mychemicalficrecs]

sorry to bother you but do you know of any fics like the unholyverse??? i read it and absolutely loved it & would like to read somethinh similar lol

Hi there!

Tbh I kind of haven't (yet) 😅There's a whole bunch of fic with religious themes, horror and/or supernatural elements though, I'm sure you'll find something interesting!

Here's a link to the Unholyverse series again for everyone interested.

And just for the record: you're not a bother, I love making these lists!

If You Liked Unholyverse...

Not A Saint by happilyappled, Frank/Gerard, 6k, Explicit. Father Way is not just a priest and Frank is not just any other man.

Tell Me I'm an Angel by SeraphStarshine, Frank/Gerard, 205k, Mature. Gerard thought that committing suicide would finally end it: no more pain, no more sorrow - nothing. The last thing he expected was to wake up in Hell, reborn as a demon under Lucifer’s control. He is planning on ending himself - for good this time - when he runs into an angel named Frank. Even though it is forbidden, he can’t resist spending time with him, and before he even realizes what is happening, he has fallen in love with this mysterious angel. Little does he know that their innocent romance is a part of something much greater which could ignite an all-out war between Heaven and Hell.

Father Way. by Frnk, Frank/Gerard, 6k, Not Rated. Father Way was the youngest priest in the parish, he had only joined a few months ago and Frank completely stopped going to confessions. Its not that Father Way was some old man, it was the opposite. He was around 25, fresh out of training when he joined the church.

Won't You Light My Way? by FallOutFromGrace, Frank/Gerard, 6k [WIP], Explicit. The land of the living became all the more interesting when one of the humans he was trying to turn to his own desires happened to have a spark of the divine. Well, for Gerard, at least. To everyone else, it was a horrific disaster and possibly and end to an era ruled by the spirits and entities down below. To him, it was an improvement to a boring existence.

Hunting With Bullets by Oni216, 21k [WIP], Mature. Having a band is the perfect cover to fight evil that lurks in the dark. It provides distraction, a reason to live, and decent lyrics for no one to fully understand. And it takes its toll. It always takes a toll.

From Grace by blood_infexions, Frank/Gerard, 40k, Explicit. “The connection a guardian angel will have to their human surpasses anything mortal man could fathom. It is pure, untainted love.” Frank is Gerard's guardian angel... until Gerard attempts suicide. Consequentially he is sent down to earth to live as a human again.

Desecrated Kids by wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz), Frank/Gerard, 144k, Explicit. Everyone moves into a new town and thinks it's strange. Stepping out of the car with a weird feeling tingling down the back of your neck isn't actually that unheard of, but finding that unmarked grave in the woods behind your house is. Frank Iero wonders if his mother moved him here so he'd disappear off the face of the planet, or if she actually wants the body to be found. All he knows is that this town has some horrible things happening to it, and no one seems to care enough to lift their heads and actually see. He has no idea what's going on, and is one of the few people that wants to find out. Luckily, Gerard is a few steps ahead of him.

Howl (Frerard Werewolf AU) by FrerardAndTheAssbutts666, Frank/Gerard, 18k, Teen And Up Audiences. In a small village, the townspeople all live together in harmony. But when a young woman is found dead, a wave of fear washes over the former peaceful village. Especially when signs of Werewolves, and Witches are linked to the murder. 17 year old Gerard Way is a young man who is well liked by everyone in the village, partly due to his families status in the village. Despite the fact that his village is a God fearing one and he wears dresses. And when another murder is committed, showing the same signs as the first, the village turns to full blown panic, and reinforcements are sent in to help. A Werewolf hunter and his son have traveled to help save this village from the belly of the beast, all while Gerard begins to question everything. The only person he could truly trust during this time of fear, is his boyfriend and lover, Frank. Frank and Gerard have been having a secret relationship, fearing they would be condemned to death if anyone knew. But as more blood is shed and more bodies hit the ground, Gerard begins to piece together that the beast is closer than he thinks. (Loosely based off Red Riding Hood with Amanda Seyfried and Gary Goldman...Okay more like its pretty based off it :p.)

Written in the Sand by Scarlet_Cross, Sarah/Brendon in a later fic, 28k, Teen And Up Audiences. Desert is brutal, it gives no second chances. It demands respect, sacrifice, and blood. (It's set in a super AU danger days pre-music videos universe. Mostly centered on the MCR boys, but there will be cameos, references, and side shoot offs into different bandom areas.)

The psalm of David by ratfromasewer, Frank/Gerard, 6k, Teen And Up Audiences. There's the world that's "after" and there's the world that's "before". After the slippery road, the accident, the almost-becoming-an-angel.

Stairway to Heaven by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone, Frank/Grant/Gerard, 58k, Explicit. Father Way accidentally taps into the memories of an angel, and stumbles into the middle of a millennia-long doomed romance.

Shadows In The Parking Lot by cellphonecharm_au, Frank/Gerard, 61k, Explicit. In which there’s a mass grave under Frank and Ray’s apartment complex, Frank doesn’t believe in ghosts, & Frank’s ex-boyfriend is, conveniently, a paranormal consultant.

Shadowplay by theoretically_yours, Frank/Gerard, 74k [WIP], Explicit. Malimore is a small town in Southern California where ghosts are as common as any other household pest and vampires come out to steal the souls of humans at midnight. Frank Iero is a young paranormal investigator whose interest in the supernatural began after the bizarre and untimely death of his parents. One day, when he and his partner take on a particularly gruesome case, all hell breaks loose with Frank caught at the very center. This is the story of how it all happened.

When Both Our Fates Collide (Frerard) by A_A_Dolan, Frank/Gerard, 11k, Mature. Frank Iero is a loner traveler who is a demon hunter. He is part demon due to him having to sacrifice part of his soul to save the life of his son, Miles, after losing his wife and twin daughters to demons. Along the way, Frank has a quest to save the life of someone who can save humankind from death and destruction. A man by the name of Gerard Way. Frank ends up finding Gerard...as a professional, exotic dancer in the bad part of town. Gerard is special and unique and it’s Frank’s job to protect him at all costs. Eventually Frank discovers that Gerard is an angel and has powers stronger than all demons combined...when that news gets out, all demons and angels are on the search for Gerard.

Love will scares us apart by francoantoniohierro, Frank/Gerard, 56k, Mature, Explicit. Haunted House AU. Frank Iero is looking for answers after the death of his best friend. The only people willing to help are the Way brothers. On the other hand, the Way brothers are two paranormal experts looking for amusement.

Famous Last Words by SaskiaK, 22k, Mature. The Paramour Mansion is not for the faint-hearted. Mikey recalls some of events that almost tore him apart

Stay out of the Light by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 10k, Explicit. Reserved bookworm Gerard, and arrogant, conceited boyfriend Frank are best friends, though they share little in common. They share even less in common when Frank mysteriously gains an appetite for human blood. As their classmates are steadily killed off in gruesome attacks, Gerard must uncover the truth behind his boyfriend's transformation and find a way to stop the bloodthirsty rampage before it reaches his own brother Mikey. Jennifer's Body AU

The Brandy of the Damned by Nokomis, Gen, 15k, Teen And Up Audiences. An ill-advised detour leads My Chem to a town populated by the dead.

Get Up and Kill by MontyKarl, 10k, Teen And Up Audiences. The zombie apocalypse is upon us. The Way Brothers may well be our only hope...or at the very least their only hope.

In The Walls by thesamefire, Gen, 72k, Teen And Up Audiences. When My Chemical Romance move into the Paramour, they get a lot more than they bargained for. All they want to do is write an epic album, but Mikey is falling apart and Gerard isn't sure what to do about it—or about the fact that they're trapped inside the house with no escape from the increasingly strange and terrible things that are happening to them.

Break The Walls (And Kill Us All) by tabulaxrasa, Frank/Gerard, 27k, Mature. Frank owns an antique store, but he's not very good at it. About the only thing he IS good at is having a crush on his best customer. Until Frank unknowingly unleashes something into his shop— something that doesn't like him very much. And it's not going away any time soon.

the house that dripped blood by addandsubtract, Frank/Mikey, 11k, Mature. “When do we leave?” Mikey asks, and Gerard steps back. “Two weeks,” he says, and Mikey sees flashes of empty hallways and open doors as Gerard pulls his fingers away.

[scarlettsabetlondongirl]

Poet Scarlett Sabet

In conversation with poet Gerard Malanga for London Magazine.

The London Magazine is England’s oldest literary periodical, with a history stretching back to 1732. Today – reinvigorated for a new century – the Magazine’s essence remains unchanged: it is a home for the best writing and an indispensable feature on the British literary landscape-London Magazine  

See here

“After meeting at a French New Wave Cinema book launch in London in November 2019, poets Gerard Malanga and Scarlett Sabet have since kept in regular correspondence via email.

In this unique interview, conducted over several weeks while thousands of miles apart, the two writers discuss shared influences, the recent passing of the Beat Generation poet Michael McClure, and the grounding influence of poetry throughout the international lockdown. 

This interview is based on the poets’ original email correspondence and has been edited for clarity.”-London Magazine   

GERARD MALANGA: You ask how my week has been? I’ve been in lockdown now for 3 weeks or so, though I might’ve lost count. I have plenty to keep me busy in the house here, plus I have responsibility towards my 3 cats. And then there’s dreamtime, between 4 & 6 in the morning.

But suddenly I felt days back this ennui coming on, like, did the poetry suddenly disappear? Sometimes I’m concerned—but just for a moment mind you—whether I can match or even better the last one? There’s no way I can predict when the muse will appear. If I had the answer, it would vanquish the mystique.

Since I’ve been in lockdown, there’s no going out for me for the morning coffee and The New York Times unfolding on the table. Many a first draft has begun that way, but now with a physical displacement of sorts I can’t claim to be an habitue of the cafe life. The kitchen table serves me well – or wherever I happen to be outdoors – so long as I have a small notebook in my pocket. I even prop myself up in bed with a clipboard pressed against my knees. I follow where I feel a poem coming on. When I start, then I know I’m in for it, but don’t give it the slightest thought. I’m in for the ride.

SCARLETT SABET: Yes, I find sometimes walking in the morning, having a destination, getting into my body and moving get’s the ball rolling with writing. I can understand the ritual of going to a cafe. I’ve written on trains a lot, the motion and rhythm helps, and because I’m in a vacuum in transit I can’t be reached.

I love the image of your 4am dream writing, I think that’s a great ritual. Sometimes I write three pages first thing in the morning, and it’s just anything on my mind. I’ve also found meditation helpful, deepening my state of consciousness and then writing straight afterwards to see what comes out, kind of like automatic writing in the spirit of Austin Osman Spare.

We were both raised Catholic, I wonder if that has had any bearing on your writing or practices? I find a great sense of divinity in art, those moments of inspiration.

GERARD MALANGA: Funny that you would mention that. No one’s ever asked me about my spirituality, that I recall. People have weird notions about me, like I’m some kind of guy about town. I may have a little bit of that too. But spirituality for me is to be able to laugh at yourself. Even when I talk to my cats, I’m laughing at myself. I don’t mean physically laughing as such but going about life without being self-conscious. It helps when I’m writing a poem.

Back in 1970 or so, I had a spiritual conversion. One of my closest friends, a guy named Jim Jacobs, turned me on to the first two Carlos Castaneda/Don Juan books; so we were basically comparing notes and one of the themes that came through for us was to follow your nature to be happy. Suddenly we found ourselves wearing white clothing and calling ourselves the white lights. When we went to London we ended up buying an all-white 1939 Bentley convertible with one windshield wiper not wiping, and it basically gave us the freedom to go visit friends in the English countryside. It sounds hysterically funny when I look back at this, but we were quite sincere in our endeavors. If this was going to be our path we had to be true to the discoveries we made along the way.

During our travels we decided to split off and agreed to re-connect a couple of years later in the Massachusetts Berkshires where he’s from and continue where we left off. Jim ended up being one of the top dealers in the secondary art market handling the likes of Judd and Cy Twombly, and now he’s curating shows. I continued to write poetry without a care in the world and became more attuned to the pictures I was taking. I truly feel I’ve become a better photographer because of the experiences I had. You have to be courageous to suddenly drop out and then drop back in.

Back in ’74, I had this idea for a book of my spiritual poetry that would have as its cover one of those kitschy paintings of Jesus. I called it ‘Poems for the Fat Lady’. You know, the Fat Lady was a phrase I’d picked up from reading Salinger’s Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters, where he’s actually equating Jesus with the Fat Lady, that they were one. That’s pretty neat, I thought. It didn’t go over too well with my publisher who rejected the idea outright. He thought I was joking. So I settled for a kind of even-balanced title, Incarnations,’ and changed the poems around.

Perhaps, the Fat Lady was the closest I ever got to God, though I don’t give it much thought these days. It’s the inspiration and the love that come from it which is the driving force and source for much of what I’m writing nowadays, and that’s the joy when I finally finish a poem. A state of happiness sets in for me.

SCARLETT SABET: And what you said makes sense, I can understand it. Did you have a period where you rebelled against spirituality or Catholicism and were, say, atheist? Although it’s bizarre for me to admit it, once I left school I did swing to atheism, I guess as a way of rebelling or a reaction. School can be dogmatic.

GERARD MALANGA: In hindsight, to embrace atheism, Scarlett, would deny the spirituality within me which accounts for a lot of my poetry as well. There was no real rebellion on my part. I always felt that my guardian angel was looking after me when I was fated to become a poet. Who would I be, otherwise? It’s a scary proposition, come to think of it.

SCARLETT SABET: True, looking back I realise I’ve always had a Guardian Angel too. I’m so sorry for the loss of [influential Beat poet] Michael McClure, and I was moved by the picture you took of him in San Francisco, 1972. What was that day like?

GERARD MALANGA: If I live long enough, God willing, I may end up not knowing anyone because at this juncture a lot of my friends have already passed. Many of them in the obituary series of my most recent book Cool, which you have. I don’t want to slip into a consciousness of perpetual mourning. Yet I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be writing a poem for Michael, but then I opened up to myself and his consciousness flowed right in. Perhaps I had a vacuum to fill at that moment from an external point of view, taking Michael’s place for the poem that would talk to him and he to me.

I remember little of that when I came to visit with him and made his portrait. It was a serene afternoon. Just him and me. I remember distinctly that we went off in his car, perhaps to a restaurant. We were driving somewhere, and that made sense. But for the life of me I remember nothing of what transpired over lunch. With all the history—and it ain’t an awful lot—there’s still a history there to be acknowledged. You know, I performed the part of Billy the Kid in Warhol’s movie which we adapted from Michael’s play, The Beard. Hardly anyone knows this; perhaps in part because I believe the movie has never been shown. So the friendships last and last and continue beyond the grave.

SCARLETT SABET: I’m always struck by the structure of your poems. I was wondering what your approach to this was, whether there was any major influence from particular poets of your youth, or even whether the way that you frame scenes and ideas within poems has any crossover influence from your work in the wider art world?

GERARD MALANGA: Yes, there’s probably a very strict structure to my poems, but it’s casually applied in what the work proposes as possibility, which I don’t even notice when I’m starting out. For instance, for a very long time, the opening to the work begins with an indented first line of let’s say 8 characters. It’s my way of engaging myself and the reader into a form of poetry that’s a radically different departure from what may be normally perceived. Yes, it’s a poem, but I like to think of them as prose poems as well.

I left ‘influences’ behind decades back. I’m pretty much on autopilot. I’m my own navigator. I travel the journey alone. My earliest influence when I literally started was Gerard Manley Hopkins. I was enchanted by his system of ‘sprung rhythm’ which he basically invented with no imitators following. That would’ve been 1959 during the start of the high school year in my senior class. In 1962, I believe, John Ashbery made a profound influence on my early work with his book The Tennis Court Oath. That became my Bible. I’d carry it around my duffle bag wherever I went. But it was Ted Berrigan with his Sonnets in ’64 that unlocked the door for me into what Ashbery was doing and that was a sheer liberating factor. From there the work continued to expand on its own.

The only ‘crossover influence’ that I imagine, as you put it, in the ‘wider art world’ would be my own life, and not the art world, per se. So what we have here is the tendency to open almost all the work in the form of what appears to be a letter on the surface, but is actually a message. I’m addressing the subjects of my poems directly; they’re not ‘about’ the subject. I’m talking directly to them, as if they’re right in the room, whether it’s a person or a cat.

SCARLETT SABET: You mention you don’t write about your subjects but address them directly in your poems. I think this is what makes them so arresting and intimate, particularly in the ‘Lives They Lived’ chapter in your beautiful collection Cool & Other Poems [published by Bottle of Smoke Press]. Each poem is a visceral portal, allowing the reader to be present with you, and witness Christopher Logue against a snowing sky before warming his hands around a mug of cognac, and Anita Pallenberg a vivacious, laughing woman sitting opposite you at Cafe Flore. Also in that chapter you include a poem entitled ‘Gerard Malanga dies’. The poem contains the line ‘I am my only guide now,’ which I found so powerful. Could you tell us how that poem came to be?

GERARD MALANGA: Putting together that section, ‘The Lives They Lived’, I figuratively had to step outside myself. That’s how close I was with many of those listed and to the memories I have of them held dear. It was not an easy section to compile. By the way, ‘The Lives They Lived’, is borrowed from the New York Times‘s annual round-up supplement. I called my contact at the paper to get permission to use it and he saw no problem involved.

Writing ‘Gerard Malanga dies’ was a tricky situation in the need to make it work. It was one of the final poems in the section and it presented me with an opportunity to address certain issues surrounding death and to those friends I’d already acknowledged over a period of nearly 40 years. I also lapse into a bit of my own personal history, as if I’m contemplating how others might see me after I’ve gone: ‘The rabbit hole is waiting for my plunge.’ Somehow, that image of the rabbit hole has emerged in a few of my poems and also echoes back to Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, one of my favorite childhood books.

The rabbit hole is an image for both death and resurrection, as I see it. Here, I question myself, ‘Am I preparing for another life? A return to life?’ And so I treat this poem as slowly nearing its own end with a ‘journey’ back to life ‘…and on and on…’. I equate this with an actual journey I’d taken by train from ‘Glasgow down to Central London…’ back in 2014 where I’d been dreamily staring out the window at a passing landscape I might not ever explore at any other time.

‘Will I even find my way home to the Bronx’ alludes to a movie I’d seen years back I recall, called ‘The Swimmer’ adapted from a John Cheever short story. Starring Burt Lancaster, his character is swimming across a series of backyard swimming pools and encountering neighbors he knew poolside in attempting to reach home. And when he arrives in the pouring rain and runs up to the door, he discovers that the door’s locked and the house is empty. Such a potent ending and darkened cinematic metaphor, brilliantly done. And it’s these private memories in my life resurfacing that I feel nourishes my work.

SCARLETT SABET: We met at a book launch in London, and you were immediately swarmed, surrounded by people. I think that is a testament to the impact your writing has had globally and across generations. How has your home city of New York and its literary landscape changed and evolved for you over the years? Is it something you feel especially connected to?

GERARD MALANGA: Your question speaks volumes, but I’m going to try to be as brief and succinct as I can hope to be as the facts show. I’m seventy-seven now and there have been no accolades to show for it. Cool came out last year and Whisper Sweet Nothings two years prior and together they comprise the best of anything I’ve ever done, and yet they’ve been totally ignored by the New York literary press overall. In the five decades I’ve been publishing I’ve received not one grant or fellowship or any of the prizes totaling in the millions. Nada. Zilch. I can’t even get my memoirs published and I have thousands of fans waiting for this book. You would think that would count for something. I’m grateful for the European attitude towards my work. That’s what keeps the work alive for me. That’s where my audience is and they relate. I love what I do, and I know it shows through the work from the responses at the readings I give and that’s how my work thrives. I love my audience and that’s the truth of it.

SCARLETT SABET: A year ago today, I finished my waitressing shift, went home and listened to what Jimmy [Page] had produced from the recordings we had made of my poems. this became our spoken word album Catalyst. It was a joy to be able to give you our album as I am so moved by your work. It had a sense of synchronicity also, as years earlier, Jimmy had given me a signed edition of your beautiful poem ‘Devotion’.

You said that ‘Cut Up’ was your favourite track on Catalyst. I had christened that poem ‘Cut Up’ simply because it was the first time I had used the William Burroughs/Brion Gysin method. I always feel it’s a handing over, a leap of faith to a higher power, to introduce another energy to it, and it came out with it’s own dark, random rhythm. Burroughs said “when you cut into the present the future leaks out”, and in that sense it has a spell like quality or possibility.

Some poems I’ve written in one sitting, a sort of channeling, like ‘Fifth Circle of Hell’, which is also on Catalyst. But part of the reason I found the cut-up method so liberating that first time was that I was trying to write a poem to encapsulate that period. I felt cautious because the subject matter was focused on the events in Europe and the Middle East, and the horrors and blood shed of the Bataclan attacks in Paris. I think my own identity and ethnicity – my mother is French-Scottish and my father is Persian – gave this piece more weight personally. So really, the cut-up was a way of detaching through the process, which was effective. I suppose I wonder what your thoughts are on cut-ups?

GERARD MALANGA: Scarlett, cut-ups are a tricky business. They almost feel spontaneous, but with every move there’s no turning back. They’re the antithesis to parallel grammatical structures which is how we reform language to make things sound right. You see Bill [Burroughs] stuck with it all his life. Cut-ups were his language and he embraced the process. It’s okay to experiment with language so long as you come out at the other end with something that satisfies you and encourages you to want to do more, to go further. That’s a big commitment. The one thing you want to avoid is being self-conscious in the process, as you put it. There’s no room for self-consciousness in cut-ups. You have to operate on a more or less unconscious level like when you dream.

Of course, you realize this in dreams. I don’t need to tell you. In dreams, nothing really connects or relates. Dreaming is a series of visual and mental disconnects. One thing leads to the next but you don’t know why nor do you have time to stop to know why. It’s like you go with the flow. Excuse the corniness of this. Dreams are the cut-ups of the unconscious. You can’t go back to change anything to make it better. There’s nothing qualitative about it. When that happens to me, I try to maintain the balance of the good and the bad together. All of it. Yes, I’ve done a little tweaking here and there, but only because I’m now in the conscious state and I want to make the lines sound just right. So it’s okay to prune. Robert Lowell taught me how to prune. But you have to know what you’re doing. It’s trusting your instincts. That’s what I do. If I throw out a perfectly terrific line, it’s because I’m trusting my instincts. But, of course, only I know that. The reader doesn’t, nor does he need to.

One of my earliest poems was a form of the cut-up. My English teacher in high school, Daisy Aldan, who introduced me to the world of poetry, gave us an assignment in class to cut out words at random from the newspaper and fill a paper bag with them. The next step was to reach into the bag and pick out one word at a time and place them on a page, and then to transcribe those words into a text, including all the capital and lower-case letters. I did one better and glued them onto the page. This all had to do with chance. Remember, Stéphane Mallarmé, in his last poem ‘Un coup de dés’ said that a ‘a throw of the dice NEVER NEVER will abolish chance.’ Well, he was right about that. You take your chances, you trust your instincts.

SCARLETT SABET: I’ve started reading Gysin’s novel The Process. I bought it last year at Shakespeare&Co but started reading it now to feel closer to Morocco, a place that I really love, while still in lockdown. I wondered what places have meant the most to you?

GERARD MALANGA: I have Brion’s book on my shelf, but I’ve yet to read it. Perhaps I’m still not ready for it yet. Right now I’m immersed in Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. What I like about it is that it reads like it’s not translated but written directly in English. That’s probably the best kind of translated work.

The first place that comes to mind that has meant the most to me, although there may have been others, is the Cafe Flore. It was my first introduction to cafe life when I arrived in Paris in the spring of 1965. And henceforth whenever I’ve visited Paris, I would arrive punctually every morning during my stays. There’s no other cafe that does it for me. Of course, there’s the cafe in the Luxembourg Gardens, but that’s more like a restaurant; a different ambiance entirely. The Flore has a certain something, a certain charm about it that allows me to immerse myself reading the morning papers or writing a poem even. The food’s good too. The croissants, the omelettes, the cafe creme. Some years back, I started referring to it as my ’office’ whenever I had an appointment to meet with friends. And I’d be certain to book a hotel room within walking distance. Anyway, the Flore is the start of my day.

SCARLETT SABET: Well, I hope one day, when the lockdown is over, we can meet you at Cafe Flore.

Photos: London Magazine

[axther]

the dead things we carry

in the end, it’s all dust to dust. 

oc x reader 

warnings: blood, lovecraftian horror, swearing 

To live is to suffer. 

That was what Fredrich Nietzsche said, anyway. But mortal opinions were not what Gazadrdiel brought himself to be part of. He had one job, one fate, and one opinion alone. 

Watch the child. 

The child in question, a female by the name of YN LN, was not quite a child anymore. She had grown and persisted for almost eighteen years under Gazadrdiel’s watchful eye and created her own thoughts, despite the hive mind that Gazadrdiel always observed in humans. Though, he couldn’t truly expect her to have a mind like humans. Not when she wasn’t one. 

Gazadrdiel glanced down at the young woman, watching her murmur over her phone. He couldn’t care less who she was talking to; merely that she stayed out of harm’s way. Two others were at her side. One was a human girl, with a pep in her step and hair she had dyed half pink, half blue. She was pastel aesthetics from head to toe, and she seemed to flit from one sight to the other with wide brown eyes. 

Speaking of sights, the other one was a boy. He was by no means human, with a writhing tattoo that crawled over his skin like black tentacles, but he kept the guise with black hair and blue eyes. He glared at anyone that so much as glanced at the quartet before looking over YN’s shoulder at her phone. 

“Yo, Gaz.” YN didn’t look up at him but fiddled with a headphone in one ear. She leaned into the mic like she was on the phone. “D’ulli’s supposed to be around here, right?” 

“Supposedly.” Gazadrdiel floated upside down, letting his snowy wings flop down like dead fish. Mortals couldn’t see him, but the boy stifled a laugh when he turned like a rotisserie chicken. “Chances are, she’d notice Nikolai first, then you. Mates, you know.” Gazadrdiel couldn’t care less, but a quelled, laughing joy rose in him when YN pointed a finger into her mouth and gagged. 

“Hets. So disturbing.” YN shook her head and Nikolai stifled another laugh with his hand while looking away. 

“Hey!” The girl turned around while walking with a light glare. “We are not disturbing! We’ve actually got an incredibly diverse culture, and we…” She rambled off, crossing her arms and turning around again before she could see YN and Nikolai exchange a look. 

“Why is she here, again?” YN pulled the mic up again but Gazadrdiel heard her clearly. He shrugged. 

“Mandatory human presence.” 

YN gave the girl’s back a disgusted look before dropping it. “Why does she even act like that? It’s gotta be something that I don’t have…” 

“Extra brain cells. She doesn’t know what to do with them.” Nikolai gave a short huff before fondling his hair, making the mess flop in front of his left eye. YN looked at him with confusion. 

“You gotta stop doing that. You look like...I dunno, a cringy Gerard Way? We’re in twenty-twenty, dude. We have better taste than that.” 

“My taste is better than that. It’s my style.” He stuck out his tongue. 

“You don’t even look like you should have that hair. You dress like you should be an e-boy or something.” YN pulled at a lock of Nikolai’s hair before he swatted her hand away. 

“She’s got a point.” Gazadrdiel raised a relenting eyebrow. Nikolai huffed before looking off to the side. YN dropped the mic and went back to looking over her phone, texting someone that Gazadrdiel didn’t care to check. His eyes drifted over to the girl herself, watching the same black tattoo as Nikolai’s crawl around her neck and shift like a snake. It remained just under the ponytail she had, enough that it was out of eyesight, but with Gazadrdiel floating above her, it was clear within his sight. 

The guardian remembered back to the first time that he truly met YN. It was her thirteenth birthday, she had just been considered ‘of age’, and Gazadrdiel had been ordered to inform her of her status. 

“You’re not human.” 

Thirteen-year-old YN stared up at Gazadrdiel with wide, confused eyes. Her hair fell into her eyes and she was on her bed, playing with a stray feather from Gazadrdiel’s wings. Her shyness gave way to her confusion and awe. 

“What?” 

“You are not human. You are one of an elite race of remote, ancient entities that oversee the lives of humans.” 

“Like...God?” YN looked from Gazadrdiel to the feather, and back. “Are you my guardian angel?” 

“If it’s easier for you to think that way, then yes.” 

“If my dad’s God-” 

“Not God. There is not one god. Not here.” 

YN faltered. “Why am I here?” Her brow was furrowed with confusion and sadness that no child should feel. “Where is here?” 

“Earth. You are here because your father, Azyrre of the stars and sky, is the eldest and most superior of the Ionians. Your parent’s best friends, Xothrith’ri of the mountain and Vhozi of the trees, decided to send you here because of the unparalleled risk and power you represent, and the fact that your father’s old lover has and will attempt to kill you using their child, who killed the Ionian of the tides, Z’undi.” Gazadrdiel nodded, like he was checking off a list, eyes half-lidded with his white eyelashes getting in the way of his slitted eyes. YN had a mixed look of disgust and confusion, with one side of her nose tilted up. 

“So...some lady-” 

“We can’t really say Iuhxyu’s a female, to be honest. It gets confusing with all the tentacles.” 

“Decided to send their kid-”

“N’ikicite of the fire.” 

“After me, who killed my...mom?” 

“Again, genders aren’t really a thing with the Ionians, but essentially.” 

YN groaned and covered her eyes. She flopped onto her back and the plush comforter puffed around her, sending a teddy bear to the ground. Gazadrdiel leaned over and picked it up, letting his tanned fingers barely trace over a beady black eyeball before placing it gently at YN’s feet. 

“I’ve been instructed to watch over you. Since your father is so…” Gazadrdiel waved his hands a bit, trying to find the right words. “Elite amongst the Ionians, and with Iuhxyu deciding to prove their dedication to your father through killing you, there are many enemies after you. And that’s where I’ve been instructed to come in.” 

YN said nothing but brought up a pillow to her face. Gazadrdiel sat at the edge of her bed, letting his bare feet touch the carpet with a grimace. He shelved it, though, seeing as the child in front of him was having a breakdown. 

“Amongst Ionians, you are Angyosz of the moon. You are a living legend, for having avoided Iuhxyu for so long.” He paused. “You can thank me for that.” 

YN said nothing for a moment, before moving the pillow so one eye peered at Gazadrdiel. 

“Who are you?” 

Gazadrdiel hesitated. “I am Gazadrdiel, subservient of the ridge.” 

“Gazadriel?” 

“Gazadrdiel.” 

“Gazadriel.” 

“Gazadrdiel.” Gazadrdiel huffed, wrinkling his nose. “Gaz.” 

“Gaz it is.” YN moved the pillow back across her whole face. “How come we look normal? Except for your...wings.” 

“Earth cannot contain our true forms.” Gazadrdiel hummed. “Mortals cannot see me, and you haven’t decided your true form yet. So you copy everyone else off of instinct.” 

“Instinct?” The shocked cry was muffled until YN threw the pillow off and sat straight up. “Wait, this isn’t what I really look like?” 

“Nope,” Gazadrdiel popped the ‘p’. “No one will know what you look like until you turn eighteen.” 

“Ugh,” YN fell back onto the pillows. “And I gotta deal with a kid after me, too.” 

“Not quite.” Gazadrdiel stood and walked over to YN’s desk, picking up a book with a phoenix on the cover. “You’ve already got that covered.” 

“Huh? Wait, how?” 

“Nikolai. Nikolai Volatire.” 

“Wait, Nicky?” YN tittered. “No way he’s tryna kill me! Unless he, like, killed the kid or something...” 

“You’ve managed to befriend N’ikicite.” Gazadrdiel put the book down. “How, I have no idea, but you have. And he’s no longer hunting you.” 

“Wow. How many other…?” YN looked directly at Gazadrdiel for the first time since he first appeared in her room. 

“Many. Earth is essentially a nursery. They all should theoretically kneel to you, but there’s no one to stop them from slitting your throat. So it’s best that you find the local ones and befriend them.” 

“You guys are twisted.” YN wrinkled her nose but hopped out of her bed. “How am I supposed to find others like me?” 

Gazadrdiel shrugged. “You think up of a way. Humans made the internet. Use that.” 

YN gave him a half-hearted glare before nodding. 

“Alright.” YN paused, looking at her hands before looking back up at Gazadrdiel. “What are we called?” 

Gazadrdiel looked at her with surprise, honestly having not expected her to ask. He closed his eyes with a soft smile.  

“Hionera. The Ionian youth are called the Hionera.” 

“You think that’s her?” 

YN’s voice snapped Gazadrdiel out of his thoughts and he glanced down at her. She was looking intently at something across the street, and Nikolai stopped playing a game on YN’s phone to look up. The other girl had been walking in her own little world and ignored when YN pointed across the street, into a little cafe. 

Indeed, there was someone there. She was a young woman, in a sleek black dress with red hair that oozed maturity. There was a squad of humans around her, chattering loudly and trying to get attention. More than one man was leaning across the table, talking in hopes she would lend her ear. People that passed by did double takes and some tried to discreetly pull out their phones and take pictures. Like she was struck, she stiffened and turned her head ever so slowly and discreetly over to where YN, Nikolai, Gaz, and the girl were. Her eyes, a vivid purple, lowered slightly, and it was clear that she had zeroed in on Nikolai. She looked him up and down before licking her top lip, slightly. Nikolai flushed, played with his hair a bit more, and took back YN’s phone. 

“Oh, yeah.” Nikolai looked back down at his game. “That’s gotta be her.” 

“Hehhh.” YN let her chuckle drone. “Gaz, you were right.” 

“Naturally,” Gazadrdiel hummed. 

“Should we send Nicky to the wolves?” YN gave a malicious but animated chuckle when Nikolai snapped his head up with a furious flush. 

“Don’t call me Nicky! And no! You do it!” 

“We could send Cassie,” YN mused, and the girl snapped to attention. 

“You could at least introduce me as Cassiopia to her! It’s a cuter name! And it makes me sound special.” 

“No,” Gazadrdiel shut down the suggestion. “You go, YN. We can’t force N’ikicite.” 

“Don’t call me N’ikicite-!” 

“Bet.” YN began strutting across the street, looking almost hunched over. She walked to the cafe with a purpose, and the crowd around the woman parted in awe at her blatancy. The woman narrowed her eyes before relaxing them and checking out her nails. 

“What do you want?” Her voice was deep and edgy, like she smoked. 

“D’ulli?” YN raised her hand like she was in class. The three others trailed behind her, with Nikolai almost trying to hide his entire self behind YN. “Right?” 

D’ulli narrowed her eyes, and the crowd around her seemed to shift. “What do you want?” 

“This is N’ikicite, that’s Gaz, and I’m Angyosz.” 

D’ulli’s face went from restrained disgust to piqued curiosity. “And who’s the girl?” 

“Oh.” YN waved a lackadaisical hand. “That’s just Cassie. She’s normal.” “Hey!” Cassie snapped out of her daze and crossed her arms. “What do you mean, normal? I’m about as weird as they get, and I embrace it! Not only do I…” 

The four others ignored Cassie as YN sat on the spare seat, and the crowd let out a gasp. Nikolai gave an uncharacteristic squeak and made a dive for the next seat over, and Cassie took the seat next to him and D’ulli. YN propped her feet on the table, and the men on it scattered like cockroaches. 

“D’ulli of the rains, we have come to make an oath of allegiance. Ihuxyu of the earth core is after me and I want allies.” YN crossed her arms casually, and D’ulli raised an eyebrow. 

“If Ihuxyu is after you, then why is her son with you?” She looked at Nikolai and gave a flirty wink. The poor boy took a deep breath in and looked like his soul left his body. “Tell me, N’ikicite of the fire. Why are you with your mother’s mortal enemy?” 

YN snorted before Nikolai could answer, and he glared. “She’s not my enemy…” 

“Or you’re just a simp.” 

“I’m not a simp-!” 

D’ulli raised a hand. “I get it. You two aren’t at each other’s throats-” 

“Most of the time.” YN mused. 

“Here I am called Daenerys.” The entire table fell silent, and D’ulli flushed. “What?” 

“Daenerys? Seriously?” Nikolai raised an eyebrow, and YN took her feet off the table to stare at D’ulli with shock and confusion. 

“My copy was reading it.” D’ulli reared up, clearly threatened. “It’s the name she said when I met her…” 

No one spoke, but YN blinked owlishly. There was a moment of awkward silence before D’ulli broke it again. 

“A-Anyway, I’ll be your ally.” She stiffened, placing her hands on her lap. YN smiled and put her feet back up on the table. 

“Great! Then I’ll-” 

“At a price.” 

“Name it.” 

“A night with N’ikicite.” 

“Wait, what-?” 

“Deal.” 

“Wait, what-!” 

“No, YN.” Gazadrdiel smacked YN at the back of her head, and she whined and rubbed the sore spot. “You can’t offer up N’ikicite.” 

“Thank you, Gaz!” Nikolai stood. The side of his arm had caught fire from nothing, but YN didn't so much as flinch. She flicked a hand and a jet of water from D’ulli’s drink doused the flame. “And don’t call me N’ikicite!” 

“Why not, N’ikicite?” D’ulli batted her eyes at Nikolai, who reared up. 

“Because I just met you!” He waved his hands. “And I like someone else-!” 

“You can say ‘YN’, we won’t judge you.” Cassie piped in. 

“Shut up! And it’s more than that! You can’t just do that, YN!” Nikolai whined, looking ready to cry. “That’s not fair!” 

YN pursed her lips. “You can just say no.” 

Nikolai paused, his eyes popping open. “Huh?” 

“Deal’s off,” YN turned to D’ulli, standing and bowing a bit. “Thanks, but you heard the man.” 

D’ulli sputtered as YN took Nikolai’s hand and began dragging him away, leaving Gaz and Cassie to trail behind them. She watched them go, with Nikolai gasping and stammering the way into the distance, blinking as the crowd around her murmured to life. She looked down at the table and noticed a scrap of paper. She snatched it and popped it open with a nail, before her eyes went wide. 

719 266 2837, in case you change your mind. 

“I still have no idea what happened.” 

Gazadrdiel was floating above YN’s bed, watching Nikolai hold his head in his hands. YN’s room hadn’t changed much from when she was thirteen, and she still sported the same desk-one that she sat at with her computer open. She was on Craigslist, updating an ad for Hionera she had. 

“D’ulli wanted to fuck you. You didn’t want to. We left. Bada bing, bada boom.” She finished her sentence with a definitive tap to the period key and say back with a sigh. “It’s whatever. What can rain do against the earth’s core?” YN made jazz hands when she said and it put a joking accent on ‘the earth’s core’. 

“But still…” Nikolai watched as YN checked her phone. “What, you waiting on a call?” 

“Kinda. Don’t worry, dude.” She waved a hand and pointed at Gazadrdiel. “So that’s...what? The third that we’ve turned down so far?” 

“Fourth.” 

“I can go back and say yes.” Nikolai looked like a kicked puppy. “I guess I was just surprised.” 

“Nah. Like I said, what’s she gonna do? Rain on your mom?” YN paused. “Heh. Your momma so big…” 

“We need to make sure that the next couple Hionera we talk to, we accept. The more we reject, the more likely word’s gonna spread that we’re picky.” Gazadrdiel plucked off a stray feather from his moulting wings. It fell onto Nikolai’s head, but he said nothing about it. 

“I can just talk to her-!” Nikolai started, but YN cut him off. 

“If the rumour spreads, then technically, it just makes everyone think we have an elite force. And then it’s like...people are gonna want to join.” 

“That’s wishful thinking.” Gazadrdiel hummed. “If you think the Ionians are proud, then the Hionera are devils.” 

“Guys!” Nikolai barked. Both YN and Gazadrdiel jumped, looking at him. 

“What’s up?” YN said a bit sheepishly. 

“I don’t mind spending the night with Daenerys! I can just tell her I don’t want to...you know…” He flushed, but before anyone could say anything else, Mother Mother began blasting from YN’s phone. Hayloft played as YN picked up her phone and squinted to see who the caller was. 

“You need to get glasses,” Nikolai murmured. 

“Shut up, shut up. If we’re lucky, we won’t have to talk to D’ulli again.” She waved a hand, put the phone to her ear, and answered. “This is YN. Or Angyosz, depending on whether or not you’re mortal. Uhh...whatcha need?” 

The room was tense and silent. 

“Uh-huh. Yeah, this is her.” YN nodded, pursing her lips. “Yup. Yeah.” She glanced at Nikolai. “Well, you heard him…” 

Nikolai shot up from the bed, realising who YN was talking to. Gazadrdiel flew out of the trajectory of Nikolai’s head when he began trying to pry at YN’s arm to get the phone, and his own braid smacked him in the face. 

“Gimmie, I can-” Nikolai whispered urgently, but YN smacked his arm. 

“Dude, shut up!” She whispered back. “Fucking-yeah! I’m still here!” Her voice rose again, and Gazadrdiel watched the two fight over the phone while trying to not insult D’ulli on the other end. 

“Yeah, he’s a bit shy, that’s all-” 

“YN, give me-!” 

“And he’s kinda stupid too!” 

“YN, just gimme the-!” 

“Nicky, I swear to god-!” 

“YN, there is no god for us!” 

“Yeah! We’d really appreciate it!” All the struggling ceased when YN gave him a pointed look with a smile. “Seriously, that’s super nice of you. Is it okay if I save your number?” 

Nikolai backed up when YN rose and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. 

“We can do the pact over text, it doesn’t really matter. Just so long as we have your consent. Yeah, no problem. Thanks again!” She gave a thumbs-up to Nikolai and Gazadrdiel, both of who sighed in relief. She hung up and shot a finger gun to Nikolai. 

“Ayeeee...gotcha!” She threw the paper in the trash and began typing on her phone, presumably to write the pact to D’ulli. “She was touched by the fact that we ‘forsook’ her for your comfort, and now she’s in the squad!” She made a sing-song voice for ‘squad’ and danced a little bit. “Now that’s what? Twenty-six?” 

“Twenty-eight,” Gazadrdiel smiled softly. “We got lucky.” 

“We always do, Gaz.” YN closed the tabs on her computer with a wiggle. “We always do.” 

There was a comfortable silence for a moment before YN stood with a satisfied sigh. 

“That’s probably all we’re gonna manage to squeeze before the date, lads.” 

“Wait, what?” Nikolai looked disturbed, and Gazadrdiel’s brow furrowed. 

“We have a day before your eighteenth birthday. Can no other Hionera answer the ad?” He floated over to YN, who shrugged. 

“No one could make it before the week is over. It’s Wednesday, my dudes.” She plopped onto her bed with a sigh. “It’s pregame season, or whatever football nerds say. Shit will be fucked...soon.” She waved her hands before placing a spare pillow over her face and resting her hands over her stomach. 

“It’s too soon.” Nikolai sat on the edge of her bed. “What’s gonna happen, Gaz?” 

“I…” Gazadrdiel faltered. “I don’t know. YN’s been my only ward for...for a while. I can’t tell you what’s going to happen. Chances are, they’ll just ask what you want your true form to be like. It’ll be nothing too drastic, since Iuhxyu is after you. If they do take you away, then...the chances are high we’d never see you again.” 

YN groaned into the pillow, and Gazadrdiel was viscously reminded of when he first told her, all those years ago. 

“Big yikes.” She murmured before going silent. Nikolai laid across her legs with a huff and Gazadrdiel wrapped himself up into his wings. He hated seeing YN so nervous, no matter how either of them hid it. If anything, Nikolai was the most expressive of them all. At least he took the liberties he wanted. 

Gazadrdiel shook his head with a sigh and leaned over Nikolai. “Are you going to stay the night again?” 

Nikolai nodded, tossing an arm over his eyes before scooting across the bed so he was parallel to YN. There was space between them, but Gazadrdiel still gave a stare at the two’s closeness. 

“And did you check off the calendar, YN?” 

There was an affirmative groan, and he pursed his lips and floated over to the light switch to flip it off. He still glowed ever so vaguely in the dark, but both Nikolai and YN seemed undisturbed. 

And like a sentient cloud, he hovered over the desk and hid himself within his wings, and he fell asleep, only hoping that he could protect her a day more. 

Gazadrdiel woke up right before it happened. 

Gazadrdiel didn’t get dreams. But that night he did, with a thousand voices screaming at him and the night sky staring down at him with a million eyes. The sea crawled up his legs and pulled him under, and when he finally opened his eyes, he saw the moon. It was beautifully glowing and pristine, and when he held out his hands to hold it, it fit. Tears came to his eyes, even underwater, and a choking sensation overtook him. 

Then, the voice came. 

His eyes snapped open right before the glass broke, and before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling over both Nikolai and YN. The hefty glass doors and windows burst just as he laid his wings over YN’s sleeping face, and immediately the shards embedded into his wings. Gazadrdiel let out a howl, and both Nikolai and YN woke. The younger of the two leapt up in his seat, panting and face to face with Gazadrdiel, but YN simply laid there with wide eyes. She was shaky but rose and began assessing the damage. 

“What the fuck?” She bit, and a wind began tearing through her room. It was ferocious, like a hurricane, and Gazadrdiel brought his wings up to protect them again, despite the pain. Rain pummeled in, and YN stuck a hand out through Gazadrdiel’s wings. He let out a yelp of worry, but she poked her head out and glared through the rain and the leaves. 

“There’s something out there!” She gasped, and nudged Gazadrdiel’s wing ever so slightly. Before he could shove her back under the protection, she ran out, and both Nikolai and Gazadrdiel yelled, at the same time. 

“Jesus Christ! It’s a hurricane out there! Come back!” 

“YN! Get back here!” 

YN ignored them both, soldiering through the rain and the wind until she came to the edge of her balcony. She held a hand in front of her eyes to try and shield from stray debris, but a rock clocked her in the cheek and made her lose her balance. She glared into the darkness. A thousand beady lights glared right back at her, and she reared up. 

“You’re a day early!” YN howled, before wincing. The tattoo on her neck had begun worming left and right across her skin, and it felt as though it was searing her skin. She brought her spare hand up to try and hold it in place, but it wriggled in and out of her fingers. Finally, she slapped it on her bicep with full force, and it writhed pathetically like a dying snake before going still. At once, the rain stopped and held itself in mid air, suspended like diamonds. She panted, staring into the abyss as Nikolai rushed past Gazadrdiel and onto the balcony, and the guardian himself cautiously approached. 

“Why are they here? Gaz!” Nikolai spun around and glared at Gazadrdiel. “They’re a day early!” 

“No,” Gazadrdiel stared at the little lights before grabbing Nikolai’s shoulder and pulling him back. “I think...we’re a day late.”  

YN ignored them both, watching as the darkness moved. A cancerous, insipid, coarse, solemn fear came over her, and her glare fell into a fearful look. Something, something baleful and sleepless and terrible, crawled out of the darkness. It had no mouth, but eyes upon eyes upon eyes and horrible lanky arms. It had tentacles for hair and it’s entire torso was a bloody, exposed ribcage, and it crawled on all fours across nothing but air. It looked as though it should have reeked, but YN smelled nothing. 

Another thing came out of the shadows, and this time, it had not one, not four, but nine arms, all snowy white and long-fingered. It’s face was long, like a horse’s might be, but huge human teeth jutted out at painful angles. In the middle of it, it looked like there might have been a human nose, and a human eye to the right, but the left was so deliriously disfigured that it looked like something from a corpse pile. It had hair light straw and a torso that looked malnourished, but all in all, it could have once been a man. 

“What are you here for?” Nikolai spat, only somewhat trying to fight against Gazadrdiel’s hold. YN’s face went from fear to being perfectly blank, head tilted and eyes wide. From just beyond the clouds, the moon came out, and like a bloodstained pearl, there were blotches of red and gold across the great light. 

The second Ionian began to speak, it’s mouth moving but no sound coming out. It only looked at YN, like she was the only thing in the world. The hand that YN had over her eyes fell, and a single tear fell out. Nikolai started struggling harder against Gazadrdiel’s grip, but it was no use. 

“Go! We have one more day! Why…!” Nikolai began to plead. “Why are you here?” 

“They came to take me back,” YN whispered in a mournful reverence. She began to blink quickly, but tears began falling out nonetheless. Some, in the bloody moonlight, looked pink, as though tinted with blood. Nikolai howled like a dog, but Gazadrdiel still held him back. 

“No! No! No! We still had a day! You promised us!” He didn’t seem to be talking to YN or the Ionians in particular, but cursing the air itself. It grew thick and warm, but no one else seemed to notice. The first Ionian leaned forward and extended a long and bony arm, letting a long, claw-like nail poke at the exposed skin of YN’s shoulder and drag across. It cut like a knife through butter, and blood began to pool out. But instead of flowing down and dripping across the balcony, it perfectly dissolved, evaporating into the air like water. YN didn’t even seem to feel it, but gave a fish-eyed stare at the second Ionian, who never looked away. 

The first Ionian let it’s claw hang in front of YN, and the hand that held the tattoo let go and began to slowly drift towards the hand. Gazadrdiel gasped. 

“YN, think before you do this. Once you accept the bloodbond, you can’t go back. If you wait until you’re twenty-one, you can bide your time. You don’t have to leave yet.” He tried to not let the fear of her going leak into his voice, but he had no idea she would go so soon. 

YN’s hand stopped moving, but the second Ionian’s mouth started moving again. Her eyes went blank and just before her hand touched the first Ionian’s, Gazadrdiel let out a yell. 

“You were supposed to tell her! To tell her the full consequences!” He looked not at her, but at the second Ionian. “Vhozi! That was your job!” 

Vhozi tilted it’s head, finally looking away from YN and looking dead on Gazadrdiel. The guardian didn’t falter, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. Vhozi spoke, and still no sound came out. Gazadrdiel felt his blood freeze. 

“I don’t know all the consequences.” He stood firm, and for a moment, Nikolai stopped struggling. “I can’t tell her. You or Xothrith’ri has to, and Xothrith’ri doesn’t have a mouth.” 

Vhozi’s eyes narrowed, and it was bone chilling. It’s mouth moved again, and then it looked back to YN. She looked at him, and at once, a thousand emotions ran through her face. Fear seemed the most prominent, but at the end, she seemed calm. Vhozi gave a shadow of a smile and moved to the right, letting Xothrith’ri take center stage. Nikolai let out a scream that felt so earth-shatteringly heartbroken that Gazadrdiel nearly let him go. 

“No! Oh my god! I wasn’t ready! I-I love you! YN! For fuck’s sake, let go, Gaz!” He choked on his own tears and spit, flailing like a crazed man and lighting Gazadrdiel’s wings on fire. “You can’t go! Not yet! We could go together! I can’t let you go!” 

YN closed her eyes, a blissed expression taking over her entire being. The moon glowed brighter, Vhozi was grinning, and quietly, YN took Xothrith’ri’s hand. 

The next thing that happened was like a silent bomb. There was no noise, nothing to prove that it had happened. But it erupted in a brilliant light, white and red and gold, all at once, and YN had her mouth open in a scream that would never sound. Her eyes were no longer e/c, but a blank white, and when she bent over in pain, her spine looked ready to burst out of her skin. She threw her head back, and Nikolai fought, and the Ionians watched, and Gazadrdiel could only silently cry as she let out one last bone-chilling, blood curdling scream. It was the scream of a soul being ripped apart, of something dying a thousand times and being reborn only once. 

Then, the light burst, and there was only darkness. 

Gazadrdiel didn’t know how long they had been there. 

Morning had come and gone, with a sobbing Nikolai in Gazadrdiel’s arms. YN’s apartment had been completely destroyed, and the bed was nothing more than stuffing and feathers from the pillows. Neighbours stepped out and stared, but with a tired wave of Gazadrdiel’s hand, they all turned and spoke no more of it. Nikolai didn’t move besides his body-shaking sobs, and the fires he had induced on Gazadrdiel’s wings had long gone out. The guardian himself was still in pain, with the blood from the glass shards and the burns from the fire almost definitely disfiguring them forever. But at the moment, all Gazadrdiel had on his mind was comforting Nikolai. The Hionera seemed as though he would never move again, with how he refused to move from the fetal position. 

Gazadrdiel watched him, and then eyed the bright sun above them. It seemed to be getting later in the afternoon, and Gazadrdiel knew that if he didn’t get Nikolai to his mortal parents, he would have more trouble on his hands than what he was at all emotionally capable of. 

“Nikolai,” Gazadrdiel whispered. “Nikolai, we have to go. I need to get you home.” 

Nikolai said nothing but responded with a fresh wave of sobs, curling even further into himself. Gazadrdiel sighed. 

“N’ikicite.” 

Still nothing. 

“I’ll carry you.” 

Gazadrdiel picked up Nikolai bridal-style and walked across the ruined balcony, letting the glass and splinters dig into his bare feet. Nikolai popped an eye when they entered YN’s room, only to wail louder and curl into Gazadrdiel’s embrace. Gazadrdiel himself felt tears beginning to come on, but ignored them in favour of walking through YN’s apartment door and beginning the trek to Nikolai’s house. He knew that if he pushed using his wings, they would be irreversibly ruined, but seeing as he couldn’t just waltz into Nikolai’s house with the Hionera in his arms, he knew it was a sacrifice he had to make. 

The sun was shining, people were staring, the flowers were blooming, and at once, Gazadrdiel felt the great grief of the loss of what was his only friend. He knew he couldn’t mourn, not until Nikolai was safely home, but he had no idea what YN was doing, or if she even survived the encounter. For all he knew, she was launched to Pakistan and was trying to make her way back home. The bloodbonds were so disambiguous that he could only hope that by some miracle, YN was still on earth, and all she had to do was crawl her way back to Gazadrdiel and Nikolai. 

He stopped, right in front of a tree that led up into Nikolai’s room, and Gazadrdiel looked at his wings with a grimace. They were charred and a bloody brown, but Gazadrdiel still spread them and gave one last push. 

Gazadrdiel let out a subdued scream, feeling the pain rocket through his system as he landed on a branch. Trying to ignore the urge to drop everything, including Nikolai, and cry, he pried open Nikolai’s bedroom window and slipped in. Nikolai peeked out from his huddled self and watched as Gazadrdiel gently placed him on his bed, before standing perfectly still. Nikolai sniffed. 

“Thanks,” He murmured, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He looked up at Gazadrdiel, who was staring at the ground and swaying from side to side. His wings seemed almost clipped, like they could fall off at any moment, and wounds covered his entire body. Gazadrdiel nodded, and reached up to his shoulder. He pulled out a large shard of glass and dropped it onto Nikolai’s carpet. They both watched as it bounced and landed, and Nikolai looked back up to Gazadrdiel. 

“Are you okay?” Nikolai croaked. 

Gazadrdiel dropped to the floor, and all he knew was darkness. 

“Let her go, Gaz.” 

[wonderlustlucas]

pandora’s box

⇢ word count 3.8k ⇢ warnings mentions of abuse, hints of pedophilia, explicit descriptions of death & asylum treatment. basically all the horror movie stuff. don’t read if ghosts & dying are triggers :] ⇢ a/n hello my precious children so uhm in the midst of trying to write some christmas fics my lit teacher assigned a creative story for us to write but it had to be horror themed (yknow, cus december is still spooky season?) n knee way me & @black-raven200 wrote this and since this is what took away from my WRITING writing i figured i’d post it :p enjoy!!

Only two minutes have passed since I last checked an hour ago, or so it seems. Each tick of the clock roars like a crack of thunder in my skull, serving only as a reminder to what lies ahead. Perhaps then there will be an opportunity for escape. A chance to run free from this prison, to leave everything and everyone who I know awaits my destruction. For now, though, I must sit here and endure this pathetic interrogation, knowing there will be no solution.

“Pandora,” she repeats, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, “why did you kill Elizabeth?”

I find it hard to look her in the eye. Not because she intimidates me, no— it’s the worry heavy in her tone that frightens me. Why did I kill Elizabeth? It is a complicated situation indeed; one Nurse Alice nor Sister would understand. “Self-defense,” is what I say. Again.

Sr. Bernadette sighs from her spot beside Nurse, clearly exasperated. Until now, she has been soundless, the animosity glinting in her eyes the only sort of indication I need to know of her infuriation. “Pandora, you know Elizabeth is—was—a quiet girl with quiet intentions. She stared out the window twenty-four hours a day. Why for the love of God would you need to smash her head against the wall for self-defense?” Sister raises her voice now, and if it were not for Nurse Alice in the room, I know the sting of her palm across my face would have made me speak up hours ago. She’s nicer when Nurse is here. Nurse is nice.

But how am I to explain? Time and time again I tell the truth, but they never believe me. Even now, when I look to him for help, I know they cannot see. They never see and they never will. “Tell them what she was going to do,” he says, a simple gesture of encouragement that has hope filling my heart. “Someone told me the only reason she looked out the window all day was because she was too busy planning on how she was going to kill us all,” glancing away from him to look at Nurse, I add with a smile, “so I killed her first.”

She looks to her hands folded in her lap, too flustered to hold eye contact any longer. So I turn to Sister once more, watching her jaw twitch as she processes my words. “Pandora,” Nurse Alice sighs, dejected, “was it your friend who told you about Elizabeth? The one you mentioned last time?”

“Yes!” I shout, grinning excitedly at her. She smiles softly in return. “Yes! It was him. He tells me everything, because he protects me. He’s my only friend here and he wants to keep me safe from the crazy girls like Elizabeth. Sister Bernadette, do you think he’s my guardian angel? Mama used to tell me that when you see your angel, it means you have a special place in Heav—”

“Silence,” Sr. Bernadette interrupts, raising her hand and I flinch away, expecting her to do more than stop my ramble. I would never admit it to her, but she is a terrifying woman. I will never understand how she made it into the convent, or why God would accept such an evil lady, but I guess it’s not my business. What is my business, however, is that she reminds me of Papa. The way she talks down at everyone, the way she walks, the way she hits, and even the way she looks, down to the squiggly hair growing out of the ugly mole on her cheek.

“I have heard enough,” she announces, rising from her chair and smoothing the untarnished skirt of her habit, “Nurse Alice, see me in my office when you are finished.”

With that, she leaves, not even bothering to look at me. How rude!

Nurse Alice sighs for the umpteenth time this evening when Sister closes the door with an unnecessary slam. While she sits there, kneading her eyes with her knuckles, Casper moves from his spot against the wall to sit beside her. Oh, how I wish she could just see him. Hear him. Feel him. Anything to prove to her I’m not as crazy as they think I am.

“I tried Pandora, I really tried. There’s nothing more for me to do,” she murmurs, and when she looks up her eyes are brimmed with tears. In this moment, she looks like Mama. My heart sinks. Nothing more for her to do? What does she mean nothing more? “What happens now?” I ask because, truly, what will happen after she meets with Sister? Perhaps she will help me escape. Maybe I will finally be free from this horrid place. That is what she can do.

“I cannot say,” Nurse admits, “Sister is not adept working with young children.”

“You mean crazy young children like me?” I ask.

Nurse Alice frowns, reaching across the desk to grasp my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Casper glares at her affectionate gesture. “You are not crazy, Pandora,” she reassures me, the same way she does every day, “I don’t know what you see or who they are, but I believe you. You’re not the first person in history who sees ghosts, or spirits, or like you said, your guardian angel. The world just doesn’t like to accept these kinds of things when they can’t see it and you can.” Casper doesn’t like Nurse Alice. He says not to trust her, and that she’s just like everyone else. I believe what he says about everyone else, that Elizabeth was a psychopath or that Gerard is possessed by the Devil, but I cannot accept what he speaks of Nurse Alice. She has been the only one to ever truly care, let alone give me the benefit of the doubt and know that what goes on is true.

“I’m sorry I killed Elizabeth,” I whisper, looking to the checkered marble floors. Why they chose such atrocious tiles for an asylum is beyond me, that in itself is enough to drive anyone mad. Life here constantly feels like a game of chess on these floors; you stay on your square, watching everyone else’s moves, trying to decipher their next, while simultaneously needing to gather enough courage to take a step yourself. I don’t realize until a tear hits my hand that I have started crying.

Nurse gives my hand another squeeze before pulling away. It seems I’ve stumped her, but I understand. What is she to say? ‘It’s okay’ when it really isn’t? When I look up, Casper is gone.

“Why don’t we get ready for bed? It’s been a long day,” Nurse asks after the silence has settled heavily in the air, exhaustion evident in the blue bags drawn deep below her eyes. I nod, wiping away the wet trails left on my cheeks with the back of my hand.

The walk back to my room is quiet; lights out was more than an hour ago, and the only sound of life in the hallways is the sound of our footsteps and the ceaseless hum and buzz of the sconces in between every other bedroom door. Even the routine guards spaced randomly about the hallway are unusually quiet. Perhaps things are strange tonight because of this morning’s events.

Nurse stops outside my door. It’s silent inside, somehow more so than the hallway and upon glancing in I realize it’s because Elizabeth is no longer there. I have the whole room to myself and whether this is a blessing or a curse I do not know. “Alright Pandora,” she smiles comfortingly, and upon sensing my uneasiness, bends down to hug me tightly, “I’ll see you in the morning.” I wish I could stay with her, or her stay with me. Because I still have Nurse to protect me, yet I can already feel it, the cold tickle of fear creeping up my spine, the weight of being watched burning into my back and the horror lying within the room waiting to eat me up alive. Before I at least had Elizabeth laying like a vegetable across the room to keep me company, but tonight I must face it on my own.

Squeezing Nurse tightly, I feel as if I must take some of her strength and tranquility with me in order to get through the night. “Goodnight, Ms. Alice,” I whisper, pulling away from her and returning her sad smile. With one last squeeze to my hand, she sees me to my room at last, watching me enter cautiously before turning away and clicking the door shut behind her. The atmosphere inside seems heavy all of a sudden, suffocating in the way dread hangs over my head. “Casper?” I whisper out, quiet voice piercing the room’s stillness as if my nightmare itself does not lurk in the corner.

Leaping into bed, pretending that it offers some sort of protection against the evil, I stare with a teary gaze back at the Shadow against the wall opposite of me. Unlike Casper, Shadow does not speak. It does nothing but stands around all day, watching me when I’m alone and waiting until I turn away to finally take the life from my body. That’s why Casper is so important— not only does he warn me of everyone else’s intentions, but he scares Shadow away.

“Casper!” I call again, terror sparking through my veins like electrical currents when Shadow jolts to stretch its black figure across the floor instead. Past my almost unbothered façade, I wonder if it can feel the way my heart thumps against its glass ribcage every time it comes close. At this, my friend finally returns, appearing sitting atop Elizabeth’s empty bed. Shadow instantly disappears. “Oh, thank God, you’re here,” I let out the heavy breath that had been caught in my throat, “and look! Now you have your own bed!”

He frowns instead. “If I stay over here, Shadow can get you,” he retorts and I instinctively wince at the thought. “Okay, never mind then,” scooting closer to the wall, I pat the hard mattress, “I don’t want to risk anything.”

Casper hums in content, appearing beside me in the blink of an eye and even though he physically is not there, it’s nice to imagine being held, protected against everything that dares come get me. There is a cool breeze against my head where he pats gently, instantly bringing the heavy lull of sleep to my eyelids as he switches the lights off. “Goodnight, Casper. Thanks for protecting me,” I mumble incoherently, and even though I can’t see it, I swear I feel him smile against my hair.

There are no smiles come morning. Instead, it is the total opposite. With a force unnecessarily aggressive for seven AM, two security officers from another level burst into the room, sending the door against the wall with a crashing bang. Jumping awake, I find that Casper has vanished in the same instant that these men come storming the small confines of my room. I have not even finished rubbing the last remnants of a dream from my eyes when they are seizing my arms, quite literally forcing me up and out of bed. “What—” I hiss, attempting to pull away but it is absolutely futile.

The panic really begins to set in when we reach the hallway and turn right towards the elevator instead of left for breakfast. “Where are you taking me? Let go!” I shout, flailing in their grip and trying to ground my feet to the floor, but they easily continue on. What is happening? Where is everyone? Where is Nurse?

“Nurse Alice!” I scream at the top of my lungs, pulling back against the guards and gaining only a second of freedom. It’s all I need to slip from one of their grasps, spinning to look back to where Nurse Alice stands against the wall every morning after role call. “Ms. Alice!” I scream again, thrashing against the men with my heart racing a mile a minute when she only stares ahead at the scene unfolding before her. “Nurse!” I wail, tears suddenly spilling from my eyes. Why isn’t she doing anything? “Nurse Alice! Help me!”

People have started to gather, watching with wide eyes as I am drug closer to the elevator. The harder I fight, the more useless it becomes. There’s a sharp pinch at the back of my thigh, and when I twist around I find that one of the other nurses on our floor has poked me with a long syringe, and just like that my limbs feel three times heavier, as if just lifting an arm requires the strength of a rhino. They’ve stuck me with something, and now they’re taking me somewhere bad. Just as we reach the doors to the elevator, my head rolls back to look at Nurse Alice one last time. Past the tears blurring my vision, I’m able to pick her out, unbothered and looking to the floor.

Casper was right. She is just like everyone else.

-

Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

I have been in this joke of a room much longer than expected. When I arrived, the drug that knocked me out kept me unconscious until the following day, and now two days have passed without any sign of Casper or Shadow. Later after dinner is served, when I pass by the mirror hung up on the wall, I see Shadow’s reflection behind me, but when I turn around, nothing is there. There is no gut-wrenching sense of fear, I have slept like a baby, and for the first time in my life, I feel normal. Left to my own thoughts with no need to constantly keep an eye out for the evil that has always lurked. While solitary confinement is not the best way to deal with these sorts of things, I’ve found a sense of solemnity in my isolation. No Elizabeth, no Casper, no Shadow. Just me and my empty, unfiltered thoughts.

I wonder why no one has followed me into my new room. It is ridiculously small, with a single bed and the necessary means of living, but that’s it. A perfect scenario for Shadow to prey on me when I have no space to hide, so I am utterly clueless as to why I have been left to my own devices.

So, I’ve decided to drop the topic. Without the fear-induced worries I have been living with for the past fifteen years, I’ve taken to spending my days doing other things. Reading, while an enjoyable activity, is only secondary to the time I spend simply thinking. Thinking of my family, my old friends, school, what goes on in the world and, finally, what I will do when I leave this place.

I’d like to run away to a new country. Without the educational or financial means to get a good job, or a home for that matter, maybe I could find a kind farmer to hire me. His family could become mine and I will learn what it is to live a normal life. And then, one day, I will be able to do it all on my own. For now, I must figure out how I will escape. Or, if I’m lucky, now that my mind is free, they will let me go themselves.

“Don’t be silly,” a familiar voice disrupts my daydreams and I jump up from bed, heart hammering in my chest when I find Casper across the room. His words make me frown. “If Nurse Alice couldn’t save you, then no one else here will,” he hisses and, squinting further, panic burns in my veins at the furious spark in my friend’s once kind eyes. Instead, there are no pupils, only pools of blood red in place of honey gold. “What are you doing here?” I ask, sitting up and staring at him fully now. I’ve looked much scarier things in the eyes before.

Casper snorts. “I’ve been trying to get you in this room for years, and when I finally do, I cannot get through the physical walls. So of course, you use this time to come up with silly fantasies for your future, leaving me behind. How rude of you, Pandora.”

“I haven’t thought once about leaving you behind, Casper! You left me.” I gasp, insulted by his accusation. He is being absolutely ridiculous, thinking it’s somehow my fault that I’ve ended up here. A muscle in his jaw twitches, his fists clenched angrily at his sides.  Why he is so angry I do not know.

“Silly, stupid girl,” he sighs, edging close. “Why are you being so mean, Casper? Friends don’t say that to each other,” I whisper, heart twinging in hurt. At this, he moves to stand in front of the bed, reaching to firmly grasp my jaw. More importantly, the panic burns like an inferno now, for I can feel his touch. “I am not your friend, Pandora,” Casper chuckles darkly, “and I no longer have to protect you from anything ever again. You know why?”

“Why?” I whisper, on the verge of tears again. Crying is the only way to cope living in this place.

“Because I am what you needed protection from, and now it seems as if you are all mine to devour.” His words take a moment to process, and by the time I have caught up he is already closer, heart constricting under his grasp and yet all he does is hold his palm out in front of my chest.

“Casper,” I croak out, jarring and brutal bursts of pain searing from my chest and down through my entire body, “Casper, what is happening?” It has not yet clicked. At his silence I have no affirmation to what is happening, only left to assume that this is some weird reaction to what was given me to knock me out. But this is not normal. Not the way my consciousness seems to float in an empty space, filled with thick static. There is so much pain. I want to cry out but everything is fuzzy, I see nothing at all and the loud pounding of my heart echoes like thunder in my skull. So much pain. I hear the ticking of the clock in the room with Sister and Nurse Alice, the game of chess on these checkered floors and I feel what I made Elizabeth feel in her final moments. There is everything and nothing happening all at once. My whole body is draining away, and almost as soon as the black mist swirls at the edges of my mind, it is already all black.

-

When I wake, things are not where they left off. But then again, where did I leave off? I cannot remember. It is a blur. I cannot recall what yesterday was, or what happened. When I wake, there is a haze clouding my mind that leaves everything uncertain, and even though I have not fully awoken, it feels as if I am floating out in the abyss. Papa must have gone mad last night, but now I am safe with Mama. No, no, that can’t be right— I must have just come back from Dr. Chae’s hypnotism. No, that can’t be it either, it’s way too cold. Doctor used to have the heat blasting year-round. So… where am I? The panic starts to set in. Everything feels… wrong. All of my thoughts are clouded. My emotions are dulled, I feel no pain, no happiness, no anger, no… nothing.

Slowly, my reality starts to piece itself together and my surroundings fade in. The darkness is still there, but instead of the smothering presence it had previously, it now lingers at the corner of my vision, almost as if it has just become a part of me now. I am in an office. The barren and cracked walls feel familiar somehow, but I cannot recall why, I have never been here before. Or have I? I am not so sure of anything.

Someone walks in, and in a hushed tone she starts to argue with… Sister Bernadette? “She has been here only twenty-four hours, but she already speaks to the walls as if time has already broken her,” Sister says in a familiar tone.

I am in the asylum.

“I heard her say a name yesterday, Casper, I believe,” the woman answers quietly and cautiously, as if at any moment Sister will snap.

Sister almost spits out her reply, “Like that makes it any better Alice, she is still speaking to herself in the middle of the night.”

Alice, Nurse Alice. All of a sudden everything comes crashing down, I remember it all. Killing Elizabeth, Shadow, Casper’s betrayal, Nurse Alice, all of it. I begin to feel the sensation of tears behind my eyes, but no water flows. I feel like I am hyperventilating, but no air comes out of my mouth. What’s happening to me? Am I dead? Am I dying? The panic sets in again, gone is the emotional numbness that I previously held. Is this a joke, has Casper simply— no. Someone new is about to walk in. I recognize the voice, it’s Casper. A young girl trails behind him, she’s small with black hair and—

No. No no no no no no. This can’t be real. It’s impossible. Following behind Casper is… me? It doesn’t make any sense. I try to speak, scream, to somehow tell this past version of myself that Casper is not who he seems, but no one seems to hear me. Slowly, I walk towards them and detach myself from the wall where I previously stood. I see myself look up from the floor and stare directly at me, like she suddenly realized my existence. Her eyes grow wide and she backs up slowly as I move forward. “Casper?” She whispers, frightened. “What is that Shadow?”

I spin around, searching for Shadow. Are they still following me?

I move further away from the wall, but suddenly my past self screams. “Casper, help me! It’s coming closer!” I turn back around, but there’s nothing there. Realization creeps up on me slowly at first, like a panther getting ready to attack its prey. Then, it strikes. Am I the Shadow? I try to test my theory creeping back into the wall. “Don’t worry,” Casper speaks finally, “it’s leaving now, you’ll always be safe with me.”

Lies. I was never safe; I never will be. Not even now, in death, or whatever the hell this is, can I find peace. But maybe, just maybe, this time I can warn myself of the evil that lies within him. It is the only thing I can do to save myself from this painful loop of death.

-

It has been three years. I’ve watched myself die sixteen times. Today, I start all over again.

[marypsue]

Hi! I saw in a previous ask that you really like monster transformation fics. Do you have any recommendations?

If you’re here, I figure you at least know of Gravity Falls, which is good because a lot of these are gonna land squarely there. (I’d recommend looking up the Monsterfalls AU if you haven’t already. Also, a lot of the Transcendence AU deals with Dipper becoming a demon and fallout from that. And the One Of Us AU! GF AUs have consistently been a gift that keeps on giving.) 

Also, I’m gonna expand the definition of ‘monster’ to include 'any creature that isn’t human but possesses sapience’ because why not. That’s where I get most of my good, good angst.

- Cooperation Is Mandatory (Gravity Falls): Fair warning before you click, this fic is abandoned and orphaned at six chapters. But they’re six of the best chapters of werewolf angst and worldbuilding that I’ve found in this fandom. This was the fic that inspired Raising Stakes.

- Rest & Revivification (Gravity Falls): Aftermath of Soos getting turned into a zombie in Scary-Oke. Sweet, funny, light, and just a little bit horrifying, just like the episode!

- Snow and Pine (Gravity Falls): More quality werewolf Stangst. This one’s a series of one-shots, rather than a chaptered fic. Technically complete, though I feel like there’s still more to the story.

- Guardian (Gravity Falls): The glowy symbol Bill put on the side of the portal mechanism turns Stan into a gargoyle. Things go about as well as you’d expect. I haven’t kept up with this one, because it got much more into romantic-drama territory in later chapters, but it does start very strong and if your attention span is better than mine you’ll probably get more mileage out of it.

- The Ghost That Lives In Great Uncle Ford’s Basement (Gravity Falls): Dipper and Mabel arrive at their great-uncle’s house for the summer, only for Mabel to uncover a thirty-year-old murder mystery. Stan’s a ghost and everything is terrible! Good but sad.

- State Of Dreaming (Gravity Falls): SandyQuinn (@agentquinn on tumblr) consistently delivers the gut punches and the good good catharsis. Stanford Pines sacrifices his humanity to defeat Bill Cipher. It’s what happens afterwards that matters.

- The Logical Conclusion (Gravity Falls): Short and sweet, funny and full of fridge horror, just how I like 'em. Gargoyle Stan discovers he has a taste for red meat.

- A Thousand Natural Shocks (Gravity Falls): An eldritch horror convinces itself that it’s Stan Pines. Then it’s forced to remember the truth. dubs is an incredible author, and has a few AU/oneshots in this same 'verse.

- (To Die Will Be) An Awfully Big Adventure (Bandom): So normally I’m not about RPF. This, though, is 1) old enough now that the circumstances it depicts really don’t reflect any of the players’ real-life circumstances and so it’s real easy to read them as original characters, 2) carefully and creatively worldbuilt to rival any decent urban fantasy profic out there right now, and 3) an absolute blast to read. A wayward MCR fan decides to give Gerard Way the greatest gift they can think of - immortal life. Unfortunately, they don’t…ask first. Contains conspiracies, vampires, werewolves, fairies, all the delightfully goffic ridiculousness of Fueled by Ramen in the late 00s, some extremely quality angst, great clothes, and a twist I genuinely did not see coming.

- Something Wicked This Way Comes (ROTG): Werewolves! And werewolf hunters! Contains both the angsty established hunter who got turned into the thing he hunts and the naive innocent who knows nothing about monsters and has no idea what he’s become! No knowledge of ROTG required to enjoy this bad boy.

- Blessings And Curses (The Hobbit movies): I don’t even go here, and this one’s another one that I strongly suspect will never be finished. But it does that 'fish out of water’ aspect of adjusting to a new body - and the culture shock that comes with it - so well. A dwarf gets whammied into an elf, with all the accompanying cultural baggage.

- Theodicy (Supernatural): Dean gets made over into an angel. Again, I don’t even go here - I guess I understand the theoretical appeal of Destiel, but the actual characters as they appear on the screen together have done nothing for me. But. This one’s so visceral, so gutting, so horrifying on so many levels, that the veneer of normality and positivity that lies over it just twists the knife. Fucked up and horrible and, in a strange way, hopeful. I love it.

- In Love, And Blood, And Death (The Lost Boys): That Good Shit. A classic vampire story retold with all ladies and a bad ending. This one’s extremely lush, the descriptions lyrical and rich and brutal. I could sink into this fic and just roll around in it for a while.

(I have also, uh, written a whoooole bunch. Off the top of my head, Raising Stakes and Shorts and Determination are probably gonna be the two you’ll get the most mileage out of.)

[lucidentia-sb]

'Breath’ a labor of love for ‘Mentalist’ star Simon Baker 

Actor Simon Baker was 7 or 8 years old the first time he saw surfing on television, and thought, “I want to do that.”

The Bakers lived in Sydney, far from any beach, but soon moved to the coast. His parents told young Simon that he could start surfing at 15, but by 10, he was stashing a board at a mate’s house. He would leave the house at dawn, telling his mom and dad that he was off to play cricket. When he got home late in the afternoon, he would frantically hide the bits of sand that he inevitably tracked into the house. By the time his parents caught on to what he was doing, he was entering surf competitions.

It was far too late to order their son to stop doing what he loved.

It is little wonder then that Baker chose Aussie Tim Winton’s 2008 coming-of-age novel “Breath” as his feature directing debut, even co-writing the screenplay with Gerard Lee. The book relates the tale of 13-year-old Pikelet and 14-year-old Loonie, tyro surfers who come under the tutelage of former pro surfer Sando, who leads them into ever deeper, ever more dangerous waters.

“The book is probably the best literary depiction of being in the ocean and having a relationship with the ocean as a surfer that I’ve ever read,” says Baker in conversation at the Toronto International Film Festival, where “Breath” had its world premiere.

Baker plays Sando, casting newcomers Samson Coulter as Pikelet and Ben Spence as Loonie — teenagers who had never acted before, but who began surfing before they were in grade school. Finding the boys was one of Baker’s biggest challenges. Whoever won the roles had to be able to act and surf. He concentrated on finding surfers with potential. He put out a casting call on social media, inviting youths to record themselves surfing and performing a short scene (which filmmakers provided).

With casting director Nikki Barrett vetting the submissions, Baker looked at 250 kids from all around Australia, eventually inviting six to a weekend workshop, from which Coulter and Spence emerged.

“People say, ‘What were you thinking, casting no-actors? That must have been a nightmare,’” Baker says. “It really wasn’t. The learning curve at that age is tremendous if you have the right attitude and you’re willing and not afraid. These guys had that in spades.

“With this story, if you think about the character of Sando and him being a sort of mentor figure for these two young guys, he takes them into this new world. Pretty much, (I’m doing) that as a director, casting these two young guys who had never acted before. It was paralleling life, in a way."

Baker began developing the script for “Breath" in 2010, in the early seasons of his hit CBS TV show “The Mentalist.” The actor relocated to Los Angeles in the late 1990s, finding early fortune with his first film, a small role in “L.A. Confidential.” (He laughs, recalling that he thought he had it made, only to see his next three films not be released.) But after starring in three American series (“The Guardian” and “Smith” were the others) and appearing in such films as “The Devil Wears Prada,” “The Killer Inside Me” and “Margin Call,” he was ready to go home. He boarded a plane for Sydney the day “The Mentalist” wrapped in 2015. He opened his production office for “Breath” the next day.

“People have asked for years what I miss most about Australia,” Baker says. “What I’ve always missed is the environment, all those physical elements that are in this film. Those were the things I really craved when I lived in California. California has its own beauty, but the sights and the smells and the tastes of the air on the coast of Australia is in my DNA.”

That was something Baker sought to capture in “Breath,” along with a realistic experience of surfing. At 48, he’s been surfing for nearly four decades. He recalls the 1991 thriller “Point Break,” and the last scene where Patrick Swayze goes out one last time to meet a monster wave on Australia’s wild coast — only the audience doesn’t see him catch that wave.

“You’ve got to see the character go from the land into the water and be able to be with him in an intimate way in those moments," Baker says, “and then be able to go wide and see the treachery of the environment. I wanted it to feel like a real experience.”

photo source - KCRW on Twitter

[ao3feed-frerard]

Storyteller Extraordinaire

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2F963zA

by emotionaltrinityfreak

When you die, you either go to heaven or hell. You go to hell, you get a choice: become a demon, or don’t. Most people choose not to, and end up being tortured for all eternity instead. You go to heaven, you just stay there for a while, happy as can be. After a few months, if God takes a liking to you, you get offered a position as an angel.

Ryan? He’s the angel of a suicidal boy. Life wasn’t kind to him, and eventually he ended up in heaven. He became an angel after a few months, and somehow got to be the Head Guardian Angel. He didn’t let the title get to his head, though, and didn’t ever brag about the better looking set of wings he got.

The job came with perks, but there were some things that couldn’t be escaped. For one thing, Ryan had to fix everything when a guardian gave their charge the wrong advice.

Another thing: God decided to be a prick, and made him the only one qualified to go to hell.

Words: 1066, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Panic! at the Disco, Green Day, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, All Time Low (Band), Paramore, Black Veil Brides

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Ryan Ross, Brendon Urie, Billie Joe Armstrong, Tré Cool, Mike Dirnt, Vic Fuentes, Kellin Quinn, Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Jack Barakat, Alex Gaskarth, Hayley Williams, Taylor York, Zac Farro, Andy Biersack, Ashley Purdy, Original Characters

Relationships: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Vic Fuentes/Kellin Quinn, Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth, Hayley Williams/Taylor York/Zac Farro, Andy Biersack/Ashley Purdy

Additional Tags: Heaven/Hell AU, Angel/Demon AU, Guardian Angel AU, God - Freeform, Satan - Freeform, all that shit, Smut, there will be smut, the smut will happen on a flaming table, because hell, but anyway, Heaven, Hell, Death, Angels, Demons, Fire, lots of fire, the amount of fucking fire, i can't tag things like a normal person, so i won't even try, Gay, SO GAY, Internalized Homophobia, but it's brief, Mentions of Suicide, Poly, Polyamory, yes - Freeform, i made Paramore a group of polyamorous beings, Because why the fuck not?, if you've got a problem with that, bye, don't read this if you're religious, this fic will piss you off so much, this follows no religion whatsoever, i just thought it was a nice concept, but i guess that's up to you, there's like nine bands in this, Wow, okay, let's see how it goes

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2F963zA

[the-and-sign-anon]

Fall of The Anuk-ite

Guardian Angel: Chapter Fifty-Five

Teen Wolf x Stilinski! Reader

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Word count: 2,205

“Look at him. You think he’s dying?”

“Not likely.” 

All three hunters jumped back when you and your dad entered the hallway. He took the lead, trusting you to act as backup if he needed you. You were more than happy to let him take care of this himself, wanting to give yourself as much time as you could before using your grace again.

“It’s not that easy to kill a hellhound.” 

You smirked slightly as all three men put a hand on their sidearms. 

“You do know that’s what he’s called, right? If you’re gonna go wandering into this world, you may as well know what we actually are.”

Deputy Ferrell drew his gun and aimed at your dad. 

“Nobody here wants to get hurt.”

“Then put down your gun, deputy.”

You felt your wings flicker into view for a second, then disappear again. 

“You’re not going to shoot me.”

He had a little more faith in his deputy than you did, but you stood by him. 

“We’re not gonna let you take him out of there, either.”

“Let us?” You glanced at your dad and he nodded. “I don’t need anyone’s permission, Ferrell. And neither does the sheriff.”

“What are you, like, sixty?”

You smirked and unlocked Parrish’s cell while your dad punched the arrogant deputy in the face. The others tried to defend their friend, but didn’t last long. All three men were groaning on the floor by the time you looked back at them.

“Y/N, would you like some help getting Deputy Parrish to his feet?”

“I’d love some. Boys?”

They all got to their feet and moved to help Parrish, who was shivering and looked blue. You and your dad led the way out and went to the sheriff’s station with the deputies just behind you. You twirled your fingers as you had by the nemeton in France and sent wisps of your grace with each deputy to keep the Anuk-ite from getting any further into their heads.

“Jordan, I thought we made a deal.”

“You disappeared for more than a week. I can’t tell you what I’m doing if I can’t contact you.”

You tilted your head. 

“Fair point.”

“How did you even get in? I thought-”

“I learned some new tricks while I was away. I nearly died, but what’s new about that? Right now, we have a war to stop and a walking nightmare to kill.”

You marched into the station together to let Agent McCall out of his cell. He was surprised to be released, but happy to see all of you. You leaned against the wall behind the men and watched the conversation unfold.

“What’s the plan?”

“City-wide disarmament. Anyone with a weapon issued by Gerard is going to relinquish it.”

“And we’ll use force if necessary.”

Parrish handed McCall his sidearm and holster with a grave expression. While your dad and Scott’s got in a car and prepared to set off across town disarming the hunters, you stopped for a moment to tell Parrish why you weren’t joining them.

“I have to do this, Jordan. The Anuk-ite is too powerful already. I know we all have faith in Scott, but there are some fights he just can’t win. But I can do it. I can put an end to the fear.”

“You still haven’t told me what you’ve been doing all week. You said you’ve learned some things and based on the fact that going into Eichen didn’t kill you, I believe that. But I need to know.”

“My dad can explain. For now, I really have to go. I’ll see you when it’s all over, I promise.”

Parrish pulled you into his arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Go save the world, Y/N. We’ll all be waiting when you come back.”

“You better be. Or I’ll have done all this for nothing.”

You forced a smile and spread your wings, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

-----

The high school was already littered with stone statues when you arrived. Peter had been caught by the Anuk-ite at an entrance to the school, with two hunters some distance behind him. Ethan and Jackson were in the locker room. Lydia, Malia, and Derek had all been turned to stone.

You found your way to the library, where your fear felt strongest. Scott was there already, tucked between the shelves to hide and steel his nerves. He stood up, then lunged into the open space to swing at nothing. 

“Scott.”

He turned his head slightly, but his attention was caught by something else. You could feel the Anuk-ite there, tormenting him and trying to open his eyes. 

“Scott, listen. It’s not real. It can’t hurt you.”

“Open your eyes, Scott!”

Your heart stopped for a moment as you heard the nogitsune’s voice again. 

“Scott! The Anuk-ite can’t hurt you because what you’re hearing isn’t real! Just trust me and keep your eyes closed.”

You let your grace go again. It was your greatest fear in that moment, that you wouldn’t be able to do this. 

“If you want a victim, I’m right here. You want fear? I carry that with me every minute of every day.”

Your wings illuminated the room. They shifted and rustled, and your eyes turned stark white. The color bled from your clothing and even the floor and shelves seemed to change too. 

The Anuk-ite appeared to you first in the form of your brother. Stiles stalked down the stairs at the far end of the library, then shifted into your dad in the blink of an eye. A second later, he became Allie, then Parrish. You took a step closer to meet him, when he changed to reflect Derek, Aniran, Shiloh, Eri. Errapel, Ninurta, and Lannetta appeared and disappeared in an instant.

“For such a powerful creature, you really are terrified.”

“What can I say? Ten thousand years makes for a lot of baggage.”

Lydia tilted her head, then shifted into Kira to speak again. 

“With you, I could never be caged again. There would be no limit to my freedom.”

“Then come get me. Step up and claim my fear. Unless you’re afraid.”

Malia sneered and lunged forward, sinking her claws into you and breaking the flimsy barriers you’d constructed to fight with. 

All illusion fell away as the Anuk-ite howled in pain and revealed its true form. Your grace burned through it, sending all the fear it had caused over the past several weeks to race through it as well. 

Stiles burst in behind you, wasting no time in throwing the jar of stolen mountain ash on the ground to trap the Anuk-ite for good. You stepped back, letting the half dead creature turn to stone. Your brother ran to check on Scott while you willed yourself to stay upright. Something was still wrong with you. You could feel it.

The others came to the library before long. They were all happy to know Scott was okay and the Anuk-ite was no longer a threat. But their attention was captured by the arrival of the angels. 

Eri and Shiloh came through the doors first, looking surprised to see you still standing. Ninurta, Errapel, and Allie were close behind. Just as Allie started to smile at you, a burst of light surrounded you. Your grace formed a sort of cocoon around you, keeping any of the others from touching you. 

“Ninurta, you said you healed her.”

“I did the best I could. She seemed stable when I left her.”

“Well, does she look stable to you now?”

“She needs the nemeton.”

Stiles was the first of the pack to speak up. 

“You’re not taking her there. She hates that place.”

“It could save her life.”

“Or level the town.”

“Eri, I have more experience with this than you do. It can save her.”

Allie and Stiles stood between the two feuding angels. 

“We don’t have time for a debate. What’s her best shot at surviving… whatever this is?”

“The nemeton.”

“Eri?”

“Her charges. A guardian angel can always depend on her charges.”

Ninurta spoke up as well. 

“Her father stabilized her for a few hours. But one person won’t cut it this time.”

“How about a whole pack?”

Stiles looked back at Scott, who carefully approached with the pack in tow. Ninurta, Eri, and Shiloh looked at the pack, then each other, and sighed. 

“It’s worth a try. But we should get her somewhere safer.”

Allie took the chance to move you. She let her wings appear and wrap around you, their sleek steel gray feathers dimming your glow slightly. She took one of your hands in hers and led you forward, letting your feet float a few inches off the ground. Stiles stayed as close as he could, though Ninurta and Errapel kept him at a distance. Without cars or flying, it was slow going to reach the edge of the preserve. Your dad and Parrish were waiting there, along with Deaton, Melissa, and the rest of the pack. 

At Eri’s instruction, they all formed two circles around you. Allie, Stiles, your dad, Melissa, Parrish, and Scott formed the first. Liam, Malia, and the others formed the second, standing just a few feet further back. They each focused on you, on all you’d done for them and your endless efforts to protect them. 

Parrish pictured in his mind the day you helped him find the nemeton. The way you stood by him and offered all the comfort you could, even when he tried to push you away. 

Stiles thought of all the nights you stayed up with him, whether it was to study or watch movies or simply talk. 

Your dad sank into the memory of the day he and Claudia brought you home. You were two years old and full of light, always smiling and laughing. The image drifted to a day shortly after Claudia passed, when you made his favorite dinner with Stiles to cheer him up, though the cooking didn’t quite turn out right.

Scott thought about the years you’d spent protecting him and Stiles. You never let someone get away with pushing them on the playground or stealing their snacks. When he was bitten and nearly had a breakdown over the abrupt change in his life, you were there to help. 

Every member of the pack had something to think of, a time when you were their rock or their protection. Even Theo stood just outside the circle thinking of how you let him live, let him walk away when you had every opportunity to kill him like Allie wanted to.

With another blinding burst of light, your cocoon disappeared, allowing you to drop down and lay in the dirt. The light faded as it always did, allowing everyone to look at you. They had to move back as your wings spread out beneath you, a new sight for all of them. Scott, your dad, and Deaton would never forget the first time they’d seen your wings, which only made it a glaringly obvious difference now. 

The deep gold feathers with honey brown tips were gone. Instead, they were stark white at the top, fading into a stormy gray at the bottom. On a few feathers, there were cracks of red-orange, like a hellhound’s eyes. Allie spared Parrish a quick smirk, doubting that anyone else made the connection.

You laid perfectly still, looking nearly dead. Were it not for half of the gathered group having enhanced hearing, they might have thought the effort had killed you. Scott offered your dad and brother a quick, reassuring nod that you were still breathing. Then you shot up with wide eyes and your hand tightened around your sword.

“What happened?”

Your family dropped to their knees and buried you in a hug, taking care not to ruffle your feathers or be impaled on your sword. 

“Guys? We won, right?”

“Basically.”

You snorted and closed your eyes, leaning into the group hug for a few seconds. 

“The Anuk-ite is dead?”

“Yep.”

“And Monroe?”

“I’ll deal with her. Trust me.”

Allie couldn’t keep the venom from her voice as she answered. Monroe wouldn’t last much longer if Allie was determined to take her down. Regardless of her grand plans, the hunter was no match for your favorite warrior angel.

“Y/N, how aware are you of what happened tonight?”

“Eri stabbed me, we saved our favorite deputy from getting turned into a popsicle, the fear monster is dead. Does anything else need to be remembered?”

“No. That’s everything that matters.”

By morning light the next day, Monroe and her hunters were gone. Most of the townspeople who’d been armed were far less violent without the influence of the Anuk-ite. Liam, Mason, and Corey were able to return to school safely. Stiles, Scott, and Lydia went their separate ways as planned. While the pack split up and finally got to live their lives, you coped with the severe changes to your grace. It wasn’t easy, but you had Allie, Jordan, and your pack to count on. Even guardian angels needed someone looking out for them and you had the best support system you could have asked for.

[robinrunsfiction]

Consider..Demon!Gerard (he’s such a sweetheart,,calls herbsugar,,darling-also super shady tho)finds the reader dying (mugged maybe?)And brings her back to life(the afterlife??)she lives with him now because thats what happens when a demon saves u ig?Anyways theyre kinda falling in love,,she falls asleep on him on the couch one night,,the next night what do u know things happen and things are said and they end up making out in their underwear in her room,, suuper fluffy,, they fall asleep

Have You Heard the News That You’re Dead?

Pairing: Demon!Gerard Way x Female ReaderRating: TeenRequested By: AnonWord Count: ~2,400Author’s Note: Hi, my name is Robin and I am physically incapable of writing a short story, but this is super super late so I hope that makes up for it! I use the prompt “Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent fashion, but much more effective.” from @writing-prompt-s as my guide for this one. Also TW: for mentions of death, but if you didn’t get that from the ask, I can’t help you.

You always knew you were different. You could tell the vibe you gave off wasdifferent of that of everyone else. Dogs growled or ran away when you walkeddown the street. Old ladies would clutch their pearls. If it hadn’t been likethat for as long as you could remember, it would be alarming to say the least.What you weren’t aware of was the fact that most people had a guardian angellooking out for them, and you had a guardian demon.

That’s not to say it made you a bad person, you just had a different way of moving through life. Sure trouble found you more often than others, but you were still having a hell of a good time. That is until the night you stumbled alone out of that bar in a drunken stupor. You’d be fine you reasoned. You were always fine. Until that guy with a knife appeared and you didn’t have any money left to give him and that answer angered him, and then you were bleeding on the ground.

The last thing you saw was a man with black eyes and black hair and a pale face running up, muttering obscenities under his breath, clearly panicked. All youcould wonder was why there was no one to look out for you at that moment.

~

You woke up in a bed that wasn’t familiar in a room you’d never seen. You sat upand saw your shirt still had the hole from where you’d been stabbed, but yourskin was unbroken underneath. You had been certain you were dying on that street. Was this some kind of weird hospital? Had you been in a coma for years? What was going on?

You got out of the bed and moved quietly toward the door. As you wandered down the dark hallway, you could hear music playing. Following the sound, you found yourself in a living room, where someone, a man with black hair, sat with his back to you.

“‘Scuse me,” you started and he turned to look at you with those same black eyes you saw when you were on the street. “What the fuck?” you gasped asyou backed away. “Where am I? Where did you take me?” You demanded.

He sat down the book he was reading and strode over to you. “My name isGerard. I’m your guardian demon and for the sake of honesty, its my fault you’redead.”

“I’m dead?!” You shrieked. “Demon? Am I in hell?!”

“Not exactly. You’re at my place, which dimensionally speaking, is earth-adjacent… on the hell side. Come sit down, I’ll explain everything.”

“No! I wanna go home!”

Gerard winced. “That’s the thing sugar, this is your home now.”

Gerard had to rush to help you sit down, as your legs seemingly were not working at the moment and you looked like you were about to collapse.

“You see,” he started once you were seated, “most of you humans have guardian angels. A few of you lucky ones get us, guardian demons.”

“How is that lucky? I’m doomed to hell before I even get a crack at life?” Youargued.

“Oh you aren’t doomed, you’re destined to become a demon as well. Knowing you guarding another luck human soul until its time they join our ranks.”

“Then what am I doing here?”

“You weren’t supposed to be dead yet. I fucked up.”

“Shocker.”

Gerard descended upon you, his face inches from yours. “Oh sugar, didn’t I dowell for the last however many years? Didn’t you have a life anyone could wishfor?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just swallowed thickly.

“I thought so,” he said righting himself. “Besides, my duty to you is not relieved now that you are deceased. We need to keep you hidden here so management doesn’t know that I-”

“Fucked up and let me die.”

Gerard glared down at you. “Exactly. But don’t worry sugar, I intend to keeptaking the best care of you. I promise you that.”

Despite Gerard’s explanation of events you still weren’t totally convinced he wasn’t full of shit. That was until he left you alone in the living area for a whileand you snuck over to the window to look out.

His apartment was a couple stories up on a busy street. But instead of the usualbustle of cars and people there were what could only be described as creatures.

Sure some of them, like Gerard, looked human, save for the black eyes, or horns sticking out of their hair. Some looked like something you’d read about in ahorror novel. You watched wide eyed as they passed along the sidewalk belowyou, going about their demonic business.

“Believe me now?” Gerard asked, startling you away from the window.

“Sure,” you said sitting down again. It was all too much to take. “But what am Igonna until my destined death day?”

“Think of it as if its one of those days you called out sick from work so you couldsit and watch hours of TV.”

“I’m doomed to watch Judge Judy and Maury forever?! I mean one day is fine, but for eternity?!”

“No, anything you want to watch, read, listen to, its all at your disposal,” heexplained.

“Will I need to do live human stuff like… eat or sleep again?”

“Totally optional,” he said. “Just like all other carnal needs.”

You just rolled your eyes and went to examine the bookshelf. Not surprisingly itwas filled with books on the occult, as well as a lot on history, art and music.

“’Bout what I expected,” you said running your fingers over the spines of thebooks, “for a demon.” When you glanced up Gerard was watching youintently and it made you shiver involuntarily.

“Help yourself to any of them. I have to go meet up with some associates. Don’tanswer the door if anyone comes around, remember, you’re alive.”

You just rolled your eyes as you pulled a book off the shelf and sat down to read.

~

You had no idea how long had passed, time being more of a human construct it would appear by the lack of clocks in the apartment. Or maybe they weren’t andGerard’s lack of time management was the cause of your current, or ratherpermanent, state of being.

Eventually you got up and watched the demons on the street for a while, then wandered through the rest of the apartment. Who knew Demons would be so sensible as to have guest bedrooms? The closet will full of clothes that seemed to be similar to the style you like while you were alive. You changed out of the shirt you died in, a thought that made you shudder, and into one that was less holey.

Moving on you noted there was no bathroom, but that made sense given what he had said about things that were “optional”. The kitchen was impressivelystocked with rich foods and fancy wines and liquors. Maybe Gerard liked toentertain? Well he wasn’t doing that impressive of a job of it right now youthought as you found yourself getting bored.

As if on cue, Gerard burst through the door. “Miss me sugar?” He askedas he breezed into the kitchen where you were still standing, feeling slightlyguilty, like you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been.

“Not really,” you mumbled.

“Oh come on sugar,” he said slinking up to you and grazing your cheek with hisfingers, “is that anyway to talk to your roommate?”

You made a disgusted noise and rolled your eyes before pushing past him.

“This is gonna be a fucking long eternity,” he muttered under his breath.

~

The thing you most enjoyed about not being alive was similar to your favorite part of being alive: sleeping. You would sleep as long as you wanted without any repercussions or judgement from others. Gerard certainly didn’t mind, as this left more time for him to do whatever he wanted since he no longer had to watch over you so closely.

Soon though he realized he missed it. He was fond of you, as he had to be based on the nature of the work, but he always enjoyed making trouble for the people who pissed you off during the day. Now he watched as a dark cloud started to gather over your waking hours, the shelves of books and movies and music no longer drawing your interest like it used to. One evening he walked into the living room to find you staring blankly at the wall.

“Novelty of it has worn off, hasn’t it?” He asked.

“Yea, and the permanence is setting in,” you sighed.

Gerard sat down next to you. “I am truly sorry. You probably don’t believe me,but its true.”

“What happened that night?” You asked as you let your head fall against hisshoulder and he moved his arm so it was around you.

“Remember that guy that was bothering you at the bar earlier in the night?”

“Yea…”

“I scared him off, that’s why he left you alone. He found someone else and theywere gonna hook up in the bathroom and I made sure that the whiskey he wasdrinking lived up to its reputation.”

You chuckled at the thought of the douche who had been talking such big game all night not being able to perform.

“I got carried away, but I’ve always hated guys like that,” Gerard admitted.“There really is a special place in hell for them.”

“Good,” you said, as you settled into him even more. A small smile tugged at his lips. “What else did you do for me?”

Gerard reclined to get more comfortable as he launched into his favorite stories of when he dealt out cosmic retribution on your behalf.

“You’re evil, but like, good evil,” you hummed as you slid down so you were laying against his chest. His arms wrapped around you protectively.

The next thing you knew you were being awakened by a hammering at the door. You both sat bolt upright and looked at each other.

“Gerard, you home?” a voice called from the other side.

“Go hide in your room,” he whispered and you hurried off and Gerard went to thedoor.

“Frank, what’s going on?” Gerard asked coolly.

“You got a hot little succubus in there?” Frank asked trying to look past Gerard.

“What’s going on Frank?” Gerard asked again, sounding more exasperated.

“Management is starting to ask about your human. No one has seen her in a while. You still keeping track of her?”

“Of course,” Gerard lied easily. “She’s just been dealing with some shit, so she’sbeen laying low.”

Frank nodded skeptically. “Just looking out for you. I’d hate to have you get fired,that would mean more work for me,” he laughed. “Besides, you know what happens when you get fired.”

Gerard nodded, trying not to let the nerves show. He remembered the last time another demon got fired. He couldn’t sleep for weeks it shook him so bad.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be, I know you got someone in there,” Frank smirked as he left.

Gerard went back to your room and found you hiding in the closet. “You’re good.”

“What’s going on?” You asked getting up.

“I’m gonna have to go topside and act like you’re still alive, or else I’m as deadas you.”

“Demons can die?”

“Not exactly the same, but it sure as shit ain’t pretty when it happens,” Gerard muttered.

“I wish I could help.”

“Not your fault, sugar,” he said as he headed back toward the front door. “I gottaclean up my mess for a while.”

“When will you be back?”

“You’ll barely know I’m gone,” he winked.

You spent what felt like forever sitting around, bored and lonely and thinking.Thinking for hours about what Gerard was risking keeping you here, and everything he had done for you your whole life. When the door finally opened again, you jumped up excitedly.

“Hey sugar,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yea, we’re good for a while,” he said shrugging off his jacket. “I don’t thinkanyone will be asking questions anytime soon.”

“Good,” you said as you walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug.

Gerard stiffened momentarily, surprised by the affection, but then softened andwrapped his arms around you as well. “You decided you like me then?”

“Maybe it’s just Stockholm Syndrome, but yea, I think I do kinda like you after all. I have really did have the time of my life when I was alive, and I know you’re tothank for a lot of that,” you said before leaning up and placing a kiss on hischeek.

When you pulled back, he was looking down at you fondly. He reached up and ran his fingers along your jaw and leaned in and kissed you deeply. His lips tasted like coffee and red hots, as his arms wrapped around you and held you closer to him. You ran your hands through his dark hair and allowed his tongue to slip in against yours.

You pulled back and Gerard looked at you in confusion until you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him along back to the bedroom. He started to undo the buttons of his shirt as you peeled yours off as well. You pulled Gerard back to you again and your lips met as you tumbled against the bed. Gerard held himself over you as he undid his pants, and you slipped out of yours as well. Clad only in your respective undergarments, you continued your heated make out session, tongues moving together, hands roaming over bare skin, marks left upon necks. After what could have been 10 minutes, or maybe a decade, Gerard pulled back and looked down at you “(YN), I’ve never felt like this before,” he whispered.

“What, demons don’t do emotions?”

“Yea, but not usually love.”

You looked up at him and grinned. “Yea, I think I’d like to spend eternity here with you.”

Gerard grinned and rolled over to your side. You curled against him as he wrapped his arms around you and you both fell asleep peacefully.