#please know i’ve killed you a thousand times in my mind. i’m strangling you

[cvsseulgi]

i don’t NEEED romantic love in the same way i don’t NEEED to tie my shoes. like odds are i’m not gonna trip, i’m gonna be fine. in fact, i’ve adjusted the way i walk to avoid tripping over my laces like i’ve cheated the system. and people like to remind me all the time that my shoelaces are untied and that i will literally die and explode if i don’t tie them. like it’s cool i will be fine i’ve gotten this far (thank you for your concern though). but if i get on an escalator, i MIGHT tie my shoes beforehand. or if the ground is super slippery i’ll do it. if not, i’ll just do very calculated hops or something. so like ultimately it really isn’t necessary but it’s nice sometimes to not have to do the extra steps and go out of my way, you know

[teddy06writes]

Locked Away

Requested by this anon: “Heyo! Can I please request an Awesamdude x Fem!Reader in which the reader is an inmate at Sam’s prison? Not Stockholm syndrome or anything because the reader already had a crush on Sam before being put in there. Thanks!” 

And also this one: “ please i will cry if i don’t get more awesamdude content. i’ve scrolled to the very end of his every hashtag.” 

Awesamdude x fem!reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, yelling, manipulation (dream’s the reason your in prison), character death

premise: In game AU; or the past three months you’d been under Dream’s control, only half aware of what was going on, the last thing you can remember from before was talking to Sam almost telling him your feelings, but now, as you are suddenly yanked from his control you find yourself being thrown in prison, now under his watchful eye

{oh there is no fluff here fellas} 

“blep” talking

‘belp’ talking but its the green bitches voice in your head

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were drifting, drifting through your strange, foggy world, doing your best to forget about the way you could barley control your own body, just a puppet on strings, when yelling, not of the voice that you’d been hearing, but of someone else, cut through the  smog. 

-“It’s over!”-

-”none of this will ever be over”-

The voice, it was your own but it didn’t belong to you. 

-”Dream has Surrendered (y/n), we can’t allow you to continue on his work”-

Growing bored you begin to drift away again, barley seeing, or feeling the people dragging you away. 

Sometime later, you’d been drifting, and then were suddenly plummeting back down into your body, a strangled sound escaping your throat as you regained control of your own body. 

“What the fuck?” A loud voice asked. 

You jerked your head up, turning to see that it was Sapnap who had been restraining you as you shuffled along, weakly asking, “Wha-? Sapnap- what’re you? Wh- what?” 

You looked around frantically at the smooth Blackstone walls, and down the hallway to where Bad and Sam are moving through unlocking a series of locks, “Where? Wha- Where I am I? Wh- wh- wh- what’s going on?” 

“Yeah nice try,” Sapnap scoffed, “I’m not letting you go because of fake amnesia.” 

“No- it- I-” Panic was rising in your chest as Sam and Bad finished with the locks and pulled open a door to what looked like a cell. 

“You think we shackle her like we did with him?” Sapnap asked, all but dragging you forward. 

Bad was clearly about to nod when Sam stopped him, obviously conflicted as he searched your eyes, “No. She won’t need them.” 

“What is happening right now?” You asked desperately. 

Ignoring you Sapnap nodded, pulling your forward and pushing you into the cell, the barred door closing behind you, “Well, you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go talk to Dream.” 

“Be careful.” Bad advised and Sam began to relock the door. 

You slowly, shakily, pulled yourself to your feet, look through the bars at Sam and Bad, “What is going on?”

Bad frowned, almost glaring at you, “(y/n) this is what happens to people who do bad things. Siding with Dream is just about the worst thing you could have done.” 

“Side wit- side with Dream?” You blinked, rubbing at your temples as panicked tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, “I- I didn’t- I wouldn’t-” 

Bad simply turned away as Sam finished the locks, taking in a shaky breath, “We trusted you, you know?” 

“I- Sam- I didn’t- Sam I don’t know whats going on? Where am I? I didn’t- I didn’t side with Dream- I would never side with Dream.” You said desperately. 

“This is The Prison (y/n), entirely unescapable, made for people li- like you,” His voice wavered, and quickly he turned, “There's no getting out.” 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, small sobs echoing through the empty halls of the prison; in his office Sam felt each new sob in his chest; in his cell, with each new sob Dream’s smile only grew larger.

~~

Sam sighed, blocking out Dream’s monologue as he slid the tray of food through the opened slot in the door. 

Dream’s cell had no bars, just a full steel door, and a tiny window in the ceiling, yet the man seemed to enjoy it, far to much. 

“You know how funny it was to see (y/n) getting dragged in here?” Dream laughter shrilly. 

“You were in here, there was no way you could’ve seen anything.” Sam replied sharply. 

“Oh but I hear everything,” Dream laughed again, “Stupid bitch didn’t even know what was going on, god I didn’t think it’d be that easy to get in her dumbass head.” 

“Don’t call her that,” Sam hissed, slamming the slot shut and locking it, “I don’t want another word out of you until you’re giving me that fucking tray back.” 

Ten minutes later the hallway your cell was in was deadly silent other than Sam’s footsteps, “Food time.” 

He slid the tray into the slot of your door, and look picked your head up from leaning back on the wall to look at him, “You do realize something’s wrong here, right?” 

“I mean, you siding with Dream was certainly wrong.” Sam muttered. 

You sounded utterly broken and defeated as you moved to lay back on your cot, turning to face the wall, “I didn’t realize manipulation was a form of agreement.” 

Sam sighed, “Are you gonna eat this or not? I’m not suppose to leave till you do.” 

“Then I guess your going to have to sit here.” 

The first 15 minutes passed in silence, Sam resigning to sit on the floor outside your cell as the minutes ticked on, eventually asking, “You were saying you didn’t remember anything, what exactly do you remember?” 

“You.” The word was simple enough, “We were talking- you said you thought you could do something. Tried to walk me home but I said I’d be fine. Dream was waiting at my house.” 

Sam hummed, a slight anxiety rising in his chest, “What did I think I could do?” 

You sighed, studying the Blackstone wall, “You said ‘I think I might be able to love you’ but with whatever I did there's no way it’s true anymore.” 

Sam stayed quiet, thinking back on that night nearly two months ago, plans for the building of that very prison were being finalized, he’d felt so on top of the world he’d admitted the feelings weighing him down, but then you had become strange, distant. 

“Why did you do it?” He asked eventually. 

“Do what?” 

“Y- you were helping Dream, with fighting New L’manburg, exiling Tommy, blowing up L’manburg again, you- you helped him round up the things that hold power.” 

You frozen, distant foggy memories flaring up in your mind, a thousand answers presenting themselves, ultimately deciding on, “Do you know what it feels like, to not be in control of your mind? To be stuck in the passengers seat as a madman takes to the road?”

He was silent as you continued, “To have your consciousness so nearly severed from your body that you can barley see or feel what’s going on? I didn’t have a chance to ask what was going on. He was just there, in my brain. Do you know what that’s like? I’d say you shouldn’t. Just take that food back and leave. Let me go back to dreaming of a future I missed out on.” 

~~

“How did it happen?” 

Another quiet question, another quiet silence interrupted. 

“It’s- foggy,” You admitted, more to the ceiling than to Sam, “But I think- I think it was like a switch got flipped. Could still be flipped. Then he’d be in control again.” 

A week had passed since you’d been locked away, and still Sam would sit, until you finished your food, or, more like, until you finally pushed the food away, still refusing to eat despite the pangs of hunger. 

“I- I didn’t kill anyone, did I?” You hazarded. 

“I don’t know,” He admitted, “Even if you did, that wasn’t you. Nothing you did then was you.” 

“Stop doing that.” You muttered, rolling over to face the wall yet again. 

“Doing what?” 

“Saying things you would’ve said before,” You said bitterly, “You can’t treat me like a monster one second and then like a lover the next. I may be a monster thanks to him but I do not think I deserve that.” 

“You’re not-” 

“A monster?” You cut him off, “That why I can still fucking hear him sometimes? Taunting me? Threatening to take over again?” 

Sam froze, looking back through the bars to your turned back, “You can here him?” 

Your hands began to shake, thinking about the barren whispers that filled your head at night, forcing yourself to sit up and turn back to him, plucking a small piece of bread from the tray, “Sometimes.” 

“How? His cell is on the other side of this place.” 

“He’s in my head, still hasn’t fully left, that is,” You sighed, biting off a small chunk of the bread before tossing it back on the tray and pushing it toward the door, “Thank you.” 

Reluctantly Sam took the tray, standing up and starting to trudge back down the hallway, “I won’t let him hurt you.” 

Soon, he journeyed back down to the level where Dream was being held. 

“I had a feel you’d be down here.” Sam could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice. 

“What did you do to her?” 

Dream chuckled, “I guess that depends on what you mean. Technically I didn’t do anything, that was all her.” 

“What did you do?” He repeated. 

“Nothing of consequence. For me at least. Honestly it was really quite easy to get in her head, didn’t even fight it,” Dream shifted, letting out a harsh laugh, “Part of me thinks it was like she was already that bad. Just as evil as me.” 

Sam crossed his arms, “No one could be as evil as you, least of all her.” 

“Of course you’d think so,” Dream laughed, “Course you’d think better of a monster.” 

~~

‘you think he’s ever going to forgive you?’ 

‘you’re a monster (y/n) nothing can change that.’ 

‘no matter how much you beg, no matter how much you try to get them to understand it was me, they will never let you out.’ 

His voice haunted you, keeping you up far into the night, words etching themselves into the walls of your mind. 

‘he will never forget what you did.’ 

‘you ruined people, you worked for me, and that makes you evil.’ 

‘Your a monster. And even if you weren’t one before, I’ll make sure you become one.’

“You don’t control me.” You muttered up into the darkness. 

‘oh (y/n) your so naïve.’ 

“Shut up.” You muttered more forcefully. 

‘you think I can’t control you from here? you are a fucking fool.’ 

Almost immediately a feeling of panic surged through you as something changed, the switch in your head being flipped once again, the last thing you could truly hear as he took over was two harsh words. 

‘you’re mine.’ 

~~

It was early in the morning when Sam had woken up to a panicked sounding Bad over the coms, “I don’t know what's happening!! It- it sounds like- like someone's trying to kill her!” 

Almost immediately Sam was up and sprinting down the corridor.

It took him all too long to reach your level, where Bad was frantically trying to undo the locks on your cell. 

“Get out of the way!” He yelled, pulling out the master key card as he heard the obvious sounds of someone being choked. 

It took yet a moment longer to get the cell door open, to find you one hand clamped around your own throat, the other desperately trying to pry it off. 

“Bad go get healing pots!” Sam yelled, immediately rushing forward to help you as Bad went running. 

It took him a moment to wrench your hand away from your neck, just long enough for you to cough twice, looking up at him in fear, “Sam, run.” 

His brow furrowed, looking down at you confused as your face seemed to shift, and then suddenly you were throwing him across the room.

Sam watched, dazed as you bolted out of the cell and down the hall, master key card in hand.

By the time he had dragged himself to his feet, and his vision had cleared itself of the spots that had drifted through there were several alarms going off, and distantly, he could hear people running.

“Bad! Ant! Give me an update, what’s happening?!” He yelled into the coms, already starting to run to where he suspected the noise was coming from.

“The key cards! She got the key cards! They’re headed for south sector!” Ant yelled back.

“I want someone back in the control room,” Sam ordered, “Turn the mining fatigue up, set the lava traps and get guards on the outer perimeter. We can’t let Dream escape.”

Sam continued to run, listening to chatter over the coms as to where you were headed, quickly gaining.

~~

“Freeze!” Sapnaps loud voice echoed through the corridor.

Dream turned from where you were toiling to break the wall to see Sapnap, Antfrost, BBH, and Sam all aprouching, crossbows drawn.

“Surrender now and we won’t take your last life.”

Dream merely laughed, looking his former friends in the eye, “You can’t stop me.”

“It’s four on two, seems like pretty good odds in our favor.” Sam hazarded, stepping forward and breaking the line.

Dream seemed to size him up, before glancing to you, “Kill them.”

The words were simple, and clear.

You stood, dropping your pickaxe and donning the armor nabbed while on the run.

“(Y/n), don’t-” Sam said cautiously, lowering his crossbow. 

Dream sneered at him, drawing the other sword taken from the armory as Sapnap drew his own, “(y/n), fight him, I can take care of the rest.” 

You nodded obediently holding up your sword before launching yourself towards Sam. 

Sam raised his shield, blocking your first thrust, and then the second, quickly trying to back away from you as Dream attacked his comrades, “(y/n) don’t do this!” 

His words fell upon deaf ears as you attacked again, this time grazing Sam’s arm with your blade. 

He yelped in pain, instinctively starting to swing back, though not heavily enough to hurt you. 

The sounds of fighting echoed through the corridor as you and Dream clashed with the guard, the men Dream attacked falling quickly until it was just you and Sam battling it out. 

You slashed again at his arm, this time penetrating deep into the exposed skin on his inner arm, using his pause and yell of pain as time to kick him back knocking the sword out of his hand and pinning him to the ground with your boot. 

Your sword poised at his throat you looked to Dream, waiting for confirmation. 

When the man nodded Sam desperately reached out to you, “(y/n), (y/n) please- don’t- plea-” 

~~

You’d been drifting again, thinking of the night before Dream had taken you. 

It had been late, you had stayed to long gazing at the sky, and Sam had found you sitting by the prime path. 

He’d sat down next to you, and for a while you talked about everything and nothing all at once, until you’d laughed, and in some sort of sleep drunk state, leaned in and tried to kiss him. 

Much to your surprise he had kissed back, giving you a murmured confession, the same one you heard now, yelled and frantic.

-”(y/n) please! I- I think- I love you- Don’t do this! Don’t-”-

The strings were cut, and you plummeted back into your own body in time to see a blade cutting into his neck. 

“S-Sam?” Your eyes traveled up the blade, to the hand clasped around the grip- your hand. 

“Sam!” You were desperate now, tossing the sword away with a clatter as fresh tears sprang in your eyes. 

Distantly you could hear Dream laughing as you leaned over Sam’s body, “Sam no! Sam- Sam- I told you to run- I told you to run! Why? Why didn’t you? Sam! Please! No!” 

The only thing you got in return was Dream’s wild laugh, and the blade being thrust into your back. 

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part VI - Star Wars Time Travel AU

Part I - - - - -  Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V 

Anakin watched Obi-Wan through the stalks for several minutes. He could see him kneeling at the base of the waterfall, occasionally glancing around, as if searching for someone. Just when he was about to break and interrupt him, Obi-Wan stood and walked over. They sat together on the low bench, surrounded by the carefully cultivated colored fungi. 

“Obi-Wan...maybe we should talk about what’s going on with you. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” Anakin offered hesitantly.

Obi-Wan tensed, hands clenching in his lap. 

“No.” 

“Master Windu and Bant both seemed to think this isn’t a drug thing. Please, let-”

“That wasn’t what I was saying no to.” 

Obi-Wan stood and began threading a path through the mushrooms, careful not to step on any of the smaller ones. Anakin was forced to follow directly in his footsteps, not wanting to risk damaging something Obi-Wan clearly seemed to care about, but wishing he could look at his Master’s face.

“Did I ever tell you about Bruck Chun?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No. Who’s Bruck?” Anakin responded with deliberate patience.

“He was an old crechemate of mine, quite gifted, though he had a temper. There have been times you remind me of him. We were rivals.” They were approaching the end of the alcove, a large stone overhang throwing them in to shadow.

“Were?”

“He died. When we were twelve.”

When they reached the rock face, Obi-Wan started climbing straight up. Anakin followed. Several clicks above the floor, Obi-Wan squeezed his way into a narrow crack, invisible from the floor below. Anakin followed. They awkwardly shuffled along the passage until Obi-Wan suddenly dropped out of sight. Anakin followed.

They landed in a hidden alcove. It was half lit by sunlight filtering in from cracks above, and half lit by the glow of mushrooms and crystals tenaciously embedded in the rock face around.

“Oh.” Anakin said softly. “Is this where you go when you visit the fountains to meditate?”

“No, I hadn’t been here in years.” Obi-Wan answered wistfully. “I started getting too big, didn’t want to damage the passageway too much. I figured some other younglings would stumble upon it someday like I did. I’m sorry. I avoided this room for the first year or two of your padawanship. By the time I even thought to share it, you had already grown so big...”

He sat down, legs stretched out in front. Anakin sat next to him, mirroring his position.

“I’m glad you’re sharing it with me now.” Anakin smiled reassuringly, but Obi-Wan was staring ahead blankly.  

The young knight swallowed nervously. “Did you...come here with Bruck?”

Obi-Wan let out a snort. “Gods, no! I hid here from him. Before we were rivals, he bullied me relentlessly.”

“And...this is the guy you said I remind you of?” Was he being insulted?

“At times. Math lessons, saber practice, none of that ever came easy to me. But you and him...you never even needed to study. And you do have a vicious streak, Anakin.”

Rather than try to argue in vain against the slight hurt, Anakin just asked, “How did he die?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “He fell.” 

Anakin jerked in surprise, “Wait, you mean-”

“We were fighting at the top of the waterfall- it- he had nearly killed Bant. He was angry that we both had been chosen by Masters, and Xanatos used that to manipulate him into helping with an attack on the temple. Bruck was lashing out. He was a better swordsmen, but his anger made him unbalanced. I knocked him back. And he fell. I’ve forgotten a lot of details about him as a person, but I still remember his body at the bottom of the falls.”

"That’s...awful. I’m sorry.” Anakin said helplessly. He had known the bare basics of Xanatos’s fall, but clearly not the full story.

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning slightly to press their shoulders together. Anakin scootched over to try and provide a little extra silent comfort.

“I thought I had learned to live with my guilt over my part in what happened to him, but I suppose recent events have torn open old scars, so to speak.”

Anakin held his breath, Obi-Wan didn’t add anything else. 

“Obi-Wan” he tried to nudge gently. 

“Hmm?”

Anakin lost his patience, jumping up. “Master, please!” He half yelled, looming over his Master. A flash of fear crossed Obi-Wan’s expression as he looked up, which immediately halted the fit of rage. 

He knelt down penitently, “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I shouldn’t have yelled, but please, let me help. I won’t get mad like that again, I swear. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“You’re not.” Obi-Wan whispered, expression blank. He shuddered all over, fists clenching tightly.

“You’re NOT here for me!” Obi-Wan shouted, suddenly offended. “How can you POSSIBLY claim to be there for anyone after what you-” Obi-Wan seemed to choke on the words. He let out a strangled cry and pulled his knees up to his chest. Tears welled, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Anakin stared wide-eyed, cold all over. “This...this is about something I did. I don’t understand. You... told me a few hours that I’m dear to you, what...what could I have done since then to make you...I don’t understand.”

“You know what you did.” Obi-Wan let out. “And the fact that learning about it didn’t stop me from caring about you doesn’t help, it just makes the heartbreak a thousand times more painful.”

Anakin racked his brain wildly. This couldn’t be about his marriage with Padme, right? He told him this morning that he didn’t mind the sneaking off. There was only one screw-up big enough that could possibly warrant this severe a reaction, and only two people alive knew about that, both sworn to secrecy.

“The younglings,” Obi-Wan whispered. “You - you didn’t even spare the younglings.” Obi-wan looked gutted, terrified. 

Anakin felt like he had been dropped in ice water. This was- this was his worst fear- that Obi-Wan would learn about his darkest failing as a Jedi and be ashamed of him, angry at him, would abandon him. He had already made his judgement. How could he have even learned about about the Tuskens?

“Padme-” he breathed out. “Padme told-”

“No!” Obi-Wan denied desperately, lurching forward. “Padme would never betray you! I would never betray you! We both love you, Anakin. Please, some part of you must know that! You must!”

His master seemed frantic, fingernails digging painfully into Anakin’s arm.

“You love me?” Anakin asked brokenly, heart cracked open.

Obi-Wan let go of Anakin to curl in on himself again. He seemed very small. It hurt to look at.

“I think its safe to say at this point that there’s nothing you could, no betrayal or atrocity you could commit that would make me stop loving you. Despite what you’ve done, you’re my brother, my son- of course I love you. The fact that I led you to doubt my love for you might be my greatest failing, though there are so many its hard to really say.” Obi-Wan sounded utterly defeated.

Anakin’s heart was pounding. This was a nightmare and a childhood dream. Obi-Wan loved him unconditionally, but he knew about his slaughter of the Tusken's and was ashamed. This couldn’t be real. He can’t know.

“Palpatine-” Anakin tried to ask.

Obi-Wan growled. “I do not need to talk about how that power-hungry liar systematically worked to tear us apart. I want to know why you would-” he cut himself off again.

Palpatine told Obi-Wan- that was more than he could even begin to process.

"I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry for failing you.” The words came desperately tumbling out, “I was just- I was so angry about my mom’s death and-”

“Your mother’s death? You killed innocent children for the sake of your Mother?! I don’t- how could anyone possibly rationalize-” Obi-Wan hissed out, truly angry for the first time that day. He took a deep breath and pulled himself upright.

“Your mother’s death was a terrible tragedy and I will forever regret my role in it. I should have tried harder to free her, for her own sake. I was so afraid that if I pushed for permission with the council they would think I was failing you, and they would take you from me. I made- so many decisions out of attachment, out of fear of losing you, and in the end I hurt you so badly you couldn’t trust me. You didn’t trust me with the truth of your visions, so I gave you bad advice born of misunderstanding, and your mother died horribly. I- I can see how you would blame the Jedi for that, even if its not rational. I certainly understand why you would blame me for that, why you would hate me because of her death.”

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face mercilessly, practically tearing skin in his haste to wipe away snot and tears.

“But why, if you were getting revenge, would you kill the children and not me?” “Why couldn’t you just kill me and be satisfied?” He finally looked straight at Anakin, asking like it was a real question.

Anakin was horrified. After a few false starts he finally choked out, “Master, I love you. I told you, you’re the closest thing I have to a father. You’re the last person I could ever kill.”

“The last person you could ever kill,” Obi-Wan echoed back, looking pained.

“Please, Master, tell me how to fix this. I want to make things right. How can I fix things?” Anakin begged.

“That’s not a fair question. You can’t unmurder people. You can’t put them back together like a- an engine or a droid- ”

“There has to be something I can do to make you forgive me!” Anakin said desperately. “You can’t just tell me you love me and then say I’m an irredeemable monster!”

“Well that’s an entirely different matter, though no less cruel to think about.”

He leaned into Anakin’s side once more, the press providing a hint of warmth even in the unshakable cold. “Anakin, it isn’t very rational or fair of me, but it wouldn’t really take that much to get me to forgive you. Kriff, if you just acted sorry for what you had done.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“If you told me that you regretted the lives you took and swore you were going to stop murdering, force help me, I’d probably take you back in an instant. All I ever wanted was to help you be the best version of yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” Anakin said immediately. “I’m so, so sorry for what I did. I lost control of myself because I was scared, and angry, and suffering and, and then I was so scared that you would hate me that I pretended it was ok, and I told myself that they deserved to die, but how could children ever deserve to die and please Master I’ll throw away my lightsaber just please, please don’t leave me, I need you, please-” and the rest of the words dissolved into large, ugly sobs.

Obi-Wan keened and pulled Anakin into his lap like he was a child again. Anakin scrabbled at his cloak, desperately trying to hold on. The terrible chill that had been haunting him slowly started to fade away as he was rocked back and forth. 

After a minute, Anakin got enough of a hold on himself to consider trying to stop blubbering like a crecheling on his Master’s robes. But he quickly realized that Obi-Wan was also crying, so instead threw his arms around the older man and let himself go.

An uncertain amount of time passed before they both slowed from heaving sobs, to dry hiccups, to quiet whimpers. Eventually they ended up laying in a heap, boneless but for their hold on each other. And finally, the cavern was more or less silent.

Anakin felt physically lighter, mind clear like he had just completed an extremely successful meditation session.

Without a word, they slowly shifted so they were leaning on the wall instead of sprawled on the ground. Obi-Wan pulled his robe off, first using it to wipe his face, then tenderly cleaning his Padwan’s. 

Anakin just chuckled. 

Obi-Wan threw the robe so it covered the two of them, which was a little gross, but that only made Anakin snort giddily. 

They sat there peacefully for sometime. The shadows from above started shifting, and Obi-Wan sighed, “I really should go eat something.”

Anakin sighed back at him in agreement. They both stretched in the small space, joints popping.

“Do you need to walk through the rest of the gardens first?” Anakin asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, tenderly fussing with his kid’s hair and robes so they looked presentable. “This was...more than I could have hoped for.”

Anakin beamed, giving Obi-Wan one last quick hug before gesturing upwards. “Time to get back to the real world?” he joked with a hint of regret.

“Time to get back to the real world.” Obi-Wan repeated heavily.

Part VII

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

all gone, all gone, all gone

part 4: well, no, i don't feel lighter

my crackfic is back, y'all!! and here to break my 3rd-chapter curse, in which every fic i've ever written ever, i've given up after exactly the 3rd chapter. hopefully the amnesia fic and the 5+1 can follow suit. i wanted to post something for thomastair week/alastair appreciation day, and this doesn't fully fit but i have too many WIPs and this was the closest thing. I've written most of part 5, which has some great thomastair action, so maybe i'll try to post that tonight as well

content warnings: suicide attempt, magical manipulation, implications of domestic violence

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | AO3

They will never help you. Not even your sister takes your side, not in many months, years even. Do you think they would take you back now, like this? They preferred you floating dead in the Thames than fighting beside them even before I got my hands on you. They would use you and discard you in seconds. You are nothing to them, you never had been. Do you think your own mother would take you back knowing what you’ve done?

Alastair was clean again, free again. Those were the first words Belial had said to him after giving him a second chance. They repeated in his head now, deep in battle with the people he’d betrayed, the people who would betray him without hesitation. The people he should hold no loyalty towards.

But something else played in his head as well: a memory. He was 11, maybe 12, his sister slightly younger. They were playing hide and seek in the forest beyond Cirenworth. Alastair knew it was because his father was drunk and angry, and his mother had told him to get his sister out of the house. He was worried that she would get hurt attempting to calm him down, but Cordelia wasn’t. She was happy, she was laughing. She had no idea that anything could be wrong. She was elated for her brother to be playing with her. She wanted to run around and pick berries and eat them next to the lake a mile from their house.

He held tightly to the memory, as if it were a street he was sprinting down and if he made a single turn, he would never be able to find it again. It was the last thing he thought of before Belial returned to him, and it was a message he easily understood: this was the reason he was loyal to her, even when she betrayed him.

He had been so focused on his anger, his death wish, all of his own pain and heartbreak that he’d lost sight of what had sustained him all of his years: his sister. He survived on the knowledge that whatever happened to him, whatever abysmal fate was before him, his sister could have better. She deserved better. He could give it to her in whatever way possible.

He’d become distracted in his own pain, and Belial had preyed on that. Now, Alastair understood. It didn’t matter if Belial killed him or if he was sent away to the Basilias to waste away for the rest of his days or if he was stripped of his marks and never allowed to see his family again as long as Cordelia walked away in one piece.

Belial twirled Cortana in the air. “Good thing we have another Carstairs to wield it. Take care of her.” The blade flew into Alastair’s grasp. Cordelia winced and Lucie shrieked, charging towards Belial. They locked each other in a battle of magicks, but she wouldn’t last long, not against a Prince of Hell.

Alastair thought back to that memory, to the sound of her shrieks of laughter, of the flashes of deep, dark red hair between the trees as he chased her. He would rather die a thousand agonizing deaths than hurt her again. His mind told him that it was illogical, but he knew that it was correct. “You always wanted to be a hero, isn’t that what you said?” She looked hurt and confused, but more than anything, terrified. She needed to understand. There was only so much he could do; she needed to believe. “Do you believe you are a merciful hero?”

Realization flickered in her eyes of that memory from many years ago. “I try to be.”

Alastair couldn’t throw a sword and expect it to land safely in Cordelia’s grasp and without any demonic interception, nor did he wish to be within slashing distance of his sister with Belial in his head. Instead, he threw the sword upward.

Cordelia held out her hand and the blade flew into it, just as it had back in Devon. It fit firmly into Cordelia’s grasp just as Lucie collapsed.

“What-” Belial began. Alastair felt himself lifted into the air by an invisible hand around his neck. “-did you do?” Before he could answer, Cordelia started to move forward. The grip around his throat tightened and he couldn’t stop the strangled sound that followed. “Move another inch and I’ll snap his pretty little neck,” he warned. Cordelia froze.

“You should- have killed me-” Alastair choked out. “After Thomas.”

“You tricked me.”

“You wanted me- to give up. Should have known- I’m a talented- actor.” He could feel himself getting lightheaded attempting to speak, sacrificing the little air that he was still able to breathe.

“You think you’re so brilliant-”

“No. You’re- a fool. You- miscalculated.” He heard a shout down the corridor. If Cordelia was still holding Cortana when James arrived, there would be no way for Belial to win. Now was his only chance.

He heard a shriek as he flew through the air, colliding with a brick wall in a sickening crunch. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground. He opened his eyes just in time to watch Belial disintegrate at Cortana’s blade.

The world was blurry, and everything hurt. His body, but also - him. He was free. He was dying, but he was free.

Each breath hurt more and more, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He had at least several broken bones and a concussion, in addition to broken ribs and any internal injuries. He attempted to sit up but the bit of effort made his vision go black. Perhaps more than a concussion.

Suddenly, his sister's face was above him. "Stay with me," she begged. "Please, I need you. Please, hold on. Everything will be okay. We'll get you to the Institute and they will heal you and then we will figure out the rest. Please, I need you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I can't do this without you. Please, hold on, for me."

She should not be apologizing, he thought. I was the one who left her.

He tried. He tried to hold on. He had brief memories of the carriage riding, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Stay with me, she repeated.

I will, he tried to tell her, but no words came.

Then, he saw nothingness. The emptiness with which he was so familiar.

Then, he woke. He was in the infirmary. His whole body ached. He felt his stomach lurch as he remembered all that had happened the past two weeks.

Cordelia was sitting in a daze, not fully asleep, but not fully awake.

"I suppose this whole ordeal means that I am either very hard to kill or very bad at dying," he said weakly, startling her out of her stupor.

She glared at him. "Don't joke about such things! I would smack you were you not injured. I still might yet." She hurried to him and embraced him tightly. His body ached at her pull but he did not comment.

"How long has it been?"

"Three days since the fight."

"Is Lucie okay?"

She nodded. "It took her a bit to recover, but she's alright. There were other injuries, but somehow we all made it out in one piece."

"I'm so sorry, Cordelia," he said quietly.

"Shh, don't start that. It's alright. I just-" Her breath hitched for a moment. "I wish I had been able to see how much pain you were in. I wish I could have helped."

He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't have accepted it." He reached to cup her face in his hand but realized that his wrists were bound to restraints. Of course. He'd worked for Belial. He'd carried out unspeakable deeds for him. He'd kidnapped Thomas, even if he had freed him as well.

"They- they said they had to, that until you woke and they could assess the situation it would be necessary. I-"

"It's okay," he told her. "I understand."

"What are you going to tell them? About how... about what happened with Belial?"

He exhaled. "The truth. I will simply tell them the truth."

* * *

The Consul was apprehensive about allowing Alastair to take the Mortal Sword so soon after waking from his injuries, but he insisted that he would not speak without it. He only wanted to do this once. She reluctantly agreed, bringing the sword to the infirmary, along with the Inquisitor, the head of the Institute, and Sophie Lightwood as witness. He was unsure of how she’d gotten involved, but her presence somehow terrified him and soothed him at the same time. Cordelia was allowed to stay as well, as long as she did not interfere with the questioning.

The Mortal Sword burned through his body, aggravating his many wounds, but he’d felt worse. He answered their questions, explaining how Belial had held him over the Thames, threatening to drop him into the river as he brokered a deal with him. He conveniently left out the part that preceded. He attempted to describe what it was like to be under Belial’s spell, under his curse. He told them that he never wanted to hurt anyone. It was the truth, even under Belial’s influence.

“Thank you, Alastair. We’re almost finished,” Will told him. Alastair was unsure why he was asking the questions, he was sure that was meant to be the task of the Inquisitor, but whatever Will had done to earn the privilege, it seemed like he regretted it now. He was simply too empathetic. “Please allow me to clarify a few details. Belial, using Jesse Blackthorn’s body, pushed you off of Tower Bridge?”

Alastair grimaced, his answer burning in the back of his throat. He had hoped they would overlook this part. “No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was already over the edge of the bridge.”

“I don’t understand.”

Alastair looked over to Cordelia who seemed ready to jump in on his behalf, though they both knew she was not allowed. “I- I jumped,” he confessed, relief washing over him, though he did not know if it was because of the sword. “I attempted to kill myself, but Belial stopped me.”

The Consul and Will Herondale looked at him in shock. Sophie Lightwood appeared guilty, but he had no idea what for. The Inquisitor was indifferent.

Will attempted to speak, the pain breaking through his eyes, but could not. The Consul stepped in instead. “I see. Is there any other information relevant to this ordeal?”

He was about to respond when Sophie spoke up. “What did Belial tell you about Barbara?” Ah, he realized. That was why she was here. That was why she was guilty.

“Sophie!” the Consul scolded.

“Mrs. Lightwood, that is entirely-” The Inquisitor began, but it was not a question Alastair was opposed to answering.

“Nothing,” he told her. “But I overheard him speaking to Tatiana. He called Barbara’s death his gift to her.”

Sophie’s solemn expression did not hold the surprise of the Consul’s or Will’s. Alastair was merely confirming what she already knew.

The Consul nudged Will forward to take the sword back from Alastair. “I believe we’re finished here. We will discuss the matter and return to you shortly.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Will put away the Mortal Sword and they left the room, Sophie casting an apologetic glance back at him. The silence stayed between him and Cordelia as they waited. He believed before that if he could skirt around the truth, there was a chance he would walk free, even if he did not deserve it. Now, knowing that they knew the full truth, his stomach twisted at the thought of their decision.

Cordelia looked pale, and he knew she was thinking something similar. “I’m going to go get some water,” she said finally. It wasn’t even a convincing lie.

“Cordelia, what are you doing?”

She didn’t answer as she left the infirmary.

if any of this seems unrealistic, i don't care! i made this mess and i can deus ex machina it if i want to!!!

taglist (ask to be +/-, this is a different taglist than most of my content because of the triggers): @jem-nasium @littlx-songbxrd @fortheloveofthecarstairs @cant-think-of-anything @shadowrunner2000 @writeforjordelia @jurdan-my-beloved

Part 5

[goddessofmischief]

Blue Monday, Chapter Five

Chapter Five

“Lady Loki?” you muttered to your partner. “Do you know about this?” “Believe me, no. I’ve had some... adventures, in the past, but no, I was not aware that a version of myself existed in a permanent female body. It’s not that shocking, either-” But he quieted, right away, because she had staggered out.

She.

You had to admit it - Loki made one hell of a woman. Her hair was dark, her neck long, her skin moon white and pallid. And she was tall.

Really, really tall.

“Amora?” she gasped, her voice strangled and disbelieving. “Amora...” “Oh, stars,” the Loki beside you muttered. “This should be entertaining.”

“I knew you couldn’t be gone,” the woman said. She threw her weapon down, rushing to you, and almost crushing you in a passionate embrace. “Oh, I knew it- Amora, it’s been so long-” “Will you tell her,” asked your Loki, “Or shall I? Who you really are, that you’re not her at all-” Shushing him, you untangle yourself from her arms.

“It’s true,” you said, quietly, and looking into her blue eyes, you almost wished that you could be Amora, if only for a moment, if only to make her happy. “I’m... not.” For the first time, Lady Loki seemed to notice the male Loki at your side.

“Something’s going on here,” she spoke, ominously, picking her weapon up again. “And I don’t like it.”

You gulped.

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” you said. “But... I can try.” ...

She didn’t understand.

It was difficult to fault her for this, of course - it seemed that the alternate universe you and Loki had slipped into was the worst one yet. She told you that Amora, Thor, Odin, and all the others were dead.

She was the only one left.

So she’d come down to Midgard to rule. Without the Avengers, this plan had worked out spectacularly well. And none of the mortals seemed to mind, either, except for the one town you and Loki had been to, who still clung to to the old ways, the old gods.

The town that had previously possessed the tesseract, before she and her soldiers had stolen it.

You were still trying to figure out how you were going to get your way out of this one. Meanwhile, your Loki seemed to almost revel in his counterpart’s disappointment.

“So... that’s it,” you said, awkwardly, glancing up at her.

“Extraordinary,” said Lady Loki, not truly making eye contact with you. “She looks as mine did. Down to the last...” she wound a lock of your hair around her finger. “Curl.”

Loki looked dangerously irritated by this, almost... possessive?

No. This was too much for you to comprehend right now. Having one Loki to contend with was quite enough for a human - you couldn’t even begin to think of the all-out war that could occur if both were to fight over you.

You couldn’t hate the idea, either.

“Yes, well,” he said, briskly, and you noticed that a knife had suddenly appeared in his right palm. “Anyway, we’re partners, and we’re here for a mission.” “Really?” you muttered, unable to help yourself from being sarcastic. “Now we’re partners?”

He ignored you.

“Very well,” said female Loki, settling into a throne. “I’ll do what I can to help you.”

“Good,” your Loki briskly stated. “Give us the tesseract.”

She regarded you.

“That is... impossible.”

“How so?” “Well, I need it. If I am to maintain control of Earth.”

“But you have to give it back to the town,” you said softly, your eyes sad and pleading. “If you don’t, it’ll... destroy everything.” “She’s right, I’m afraid,” male Loki said. “It’ll change the course of history.” “Perhaps I want it changed. Have you considered that? Perhaps I desire to possess the one tool that would allow me to finally have everything I want. If I have the tesseract...” she looked at you. “If I have the tesseract, I can live in a kingdom where no one ever dies.”

You swallowed.

“Please,” you said, sinking to the snow-covered ground and kneeling in front of Lady Loki. “Please, you can’t-”

Your Loki, who already like he was about to kill someone, seemed to think this act was a breaking point.

“Enough of this,” he interrupted, tugging you back on your feet. “Get up. You look ridiculous.” “She’s a queen!” you protested, eyes wide, wrenching your wrist from his grasp. “I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“That’s funny, I’ve been alive for a thousand years. No one ever did it for me.”

He looked to Lady Loki. “What is it that you want?” “What makes you think I’ll want something?” “Because you’re me. I assure you, I know when I want something.”

Female Loki scowled.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll offer you a deal, if the cube is so very consequential. The tesseract... in trade for her.” At this, Loki had the good sense to look panicked.

“No. Absolutely not.” “Why not? It’s the only fair deal that makes sense. I won’t need the tesseract to travel to different multiverses if I have her. You can have the tesseract, and go about your mission. I don’t really need power, Loki. I just want Amora.”

“She does not even know what she is.”

You looked between the two Lokis.

“There has to be another way to settle this,” you said, your voice small. “Come on, we can figure something out-” “There’s nothing to figure out,” your Loki insisted. “Come on. We’ll just have to disappoint Mobius. Not shocking - eventually, I would have done it anyway.”

“Loki, we can’t just go-” “Well, I can’t just lose you!” he shouted. “...Not again!”

...Oh.

Oh, God. Loki was losing it.

This had quickly become personal.

“Loki,” you said, quietly, standing in front of him and grabbing his arms, “Calm down. It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. Let’s just walk away, and... we can come back. We’ll figure this out, I promise-”

He shook you off. “No,” he said, removing a set of daggers. “No, this ends now.”

”Loki-”

“Move, or you’ll be hurt.”

You groaned, standing off to the side while the two Lokis squared off and loading your T.V.A.-issued gun.

“Hand over the tesseract,” he said, gesturing at the cube on her shelf. “Last chance.” “Amora,” she countered. “Last chance.”

Your Loki hissed, and they ran at each other. Truthfully, you could barely tell one for the other. Both had similar fighting styles - no, the exact same fighting style.

Neither could win without an edge.

You didn’t want to hurt female Loki. You knew she had the capacity to be good, same as yours did. She just needed that chance.

But she wasn’t giving you that chance. And if she were allowed to possess the tesseract, the power would consume her - and destroy the timeline. Besides, you knew she wanted you. How many timelines would she wreck in her search? How many Amoras would she seek to find?

Decisively, you raised your gun - before an unexpected thought made you falter. Loki was a god - so was Lady Loki. A gunshot wound, even from a technologically-advanced gun, would barely harm either of them.

And a different thought struck you. A different... much more dangerous thought.

Loki was a god.

But you weren’t.

Slowly, you raised the gun to your chin, trying to stay calm.

“Y/N?” you heard Loki shout, mid-stab.

Stabbing? It had escalated to stabbing, now?

Well. You really shouldn’t have been all that surprised.

“Amora,” female Loki uttered, stepping toward you. “Amora, whatever you’re thinking, don’t-”

“I have to!” you said, trying to make your voice panicked and convincing. “Otherwise... you’ll kill each other. And it’ll be my fault.”

“Amora,” she whispered. She raised her hands to cup your face, “Don’t..”

The panicked expression hadn’t entirely faded from your Loki’s features, but you knew he had caught on, slightly. Unlike Lady Loki, he knew who you were, he comprehended it. You weren’t a weakness to him like you were to her.

She couldn’t know it. If she had to admit to herself that the Amora she had known and loved no longer existed, it would destroy her.

That is why she had to die.

“Give me the gun-”

“No!”

“Amora, we can fix this. I love you.”

Loki began to creep up behind her.

“Don’t say that,” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. The act was over. You reached up to clutch the hands that still embraced you. “Please, don’t say that-”

“I do, I love you, you can’t die-”

“But you can,” said Loki, plunging a magically-charged knife into her back.

She collapsed to the ground, and you fell down with her, cradling her in your arms.

“Loki,” you whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Lady Loki shuddered, her chest contracting and her breathing labored. She reached up, one more time, and ran her hand through your hair.

“Amora,” she choked out, and then she was gone.

You let her fall from your arms. As you did, she slowly faded, disappearing into a golden mist.

“Come on,” said your Loki, gently, helping you up. “It’s time to go.”

“You got the tesseract?” you asked, drying your eyes with your sleeves.

“Yes.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

...

Taglist:

gorgeourrific-nerd @suwupremeleader​ @sserpente @tripleyeeet

[mypoisonedvine]

I’m so in love with TWI!Lee, it’s a problem 😭😭😭 does reader ever find out what really happened to her mom? And if so, how does she react/what goes down?

okay so I’ve gotten this question a LOT and in my mind, no she never finds out.  but, if she hypothetically did, this is sort of how that would shake out...

Unidentified Cremains Found in Woods Outside Knockemstiff; Foul Play Suspected

You didn’t think much of the headline at first, because you didn’t read a lot about crimes-- you preferred to hear about it from your husband when he vented about his day at work.  For some reason, though, you found yourself picking the paper up again later that evening, staring at the article and contemplating it.

Ohio state troopers discovered the burnt remains of an unknown woman, estimated to be between the ages of 35 and 55, in an uninhabited wooded area outside the unincorporated township of Knockemstiff.  Although cause of death could not be determined due to the age of and damage to the body, foul play is not being ruled out considering the amateur nature of the burning.  

Limited information was available as to the identity of the deceased, and so far, the state troopers say they have not been able to find any match to known dental records or missing persons cases in the state of Ohio; they plan to look for information outside the state next if no one comes forward with usable information.  There are only two real pieces of information that investigators have been able to put together about the mystery woman.  First is that she had a filling on her left rear molar, which was likely installed sometime between 1955 and 1959.  Second, and more disturbing, is that she was three-and-a-half to four months pregnant at the time of death; the case is being investigated as a double homicide.

Anyone with information on who this woman was or what may have happened to her is encouraged to call the Ohio State Troopers Department at 808-555-8171

Setting the paper down, you furrowed your brow as you pondered that.  Consciously, the possibility that the body could be your mother’s didn’t cross your mind.  However, you were still suspicious enough that something compelled you to hide the paper from Lee that night when he got home.

It wasn't until you woke up the next morning to Lee gone early that you started to fear the worst. Suddenly, too many things made sense in all the wrong ways. The way your mother left so suddenly with all but no explanation, how it was all so convenient after he'd waited so long to divorce her. You remembered that a case was never even opened because of that stupid note, the one you hadn't thought to question before but managed to wrap everything up a little too well.

You found the old letter she left hidden away in a box in your closet. Now that you looked at it again, you finally started to question it. The handwriting was a bit off, almost shaky-- but maybe she was emotional? Why had she suddenly acknowledged being a bad mother after a lifetime of assuring you she was the best mother alive? Come to think of it, why had she left so much of her belongings behind?

Worst of all, you were sure the stationary matched a pad that Lee kept in his office. You'd seen it a thousand times on his desk and, up until now, never thought to connect it to the letter left on your dining room table.

You wondered if part of you had known all along. Swallowing dryly, you took something else out of the box in the closet, and stormed out into the night to find your husband.

//

Standing across from him in the woods, you almost couldn't see with only the moonlight illuminating his face. His eyes were cast into shadow, but you hoped he could see yours. You hoped he could see that you were serious.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked slowly.

You shivered as pulled out the revolver from behind your back, pointing it at him as his face dropped.

"... princess?"

"I know what you did, Lee."

"What I did...?"

"What you did to my mama."

He swallowed. "I... I don't know what you're--"

"Stop FUCKING lying," you yelped, "and get your hands up."

"Honey, you're not really gonna--"

You cocked the gun, and he quickly shut up and raised his arms. Clearly he still had his common sense.

"Let's not do anything drastic, alright?" he suggested gently. "Let's have a talk about this."

"How could you? I know she was cruel, but she was... she was a person! And now she's just... unidentified female cremains! How could you do that?"

"I didn't do it," he explained, rushing when you moved your finger to the trigger, "it was Deputy Wilson, okay? I asked him to do it! That was why he got promoted!"

"How..." you mumbled, "how did he do it?"

Lee looked to the ground.

"Look at me!" you demanded. "Tell me how my mother died!"

"He strangled her. With a rope."

You felt a little lightheaded, hardly believing what you were hearing. "I thought maybe... I thought maybe it would've been painless. Quick. Maybe she had some final moments of peace... but she didn't, did she? She was probably clawing, screaming, pleading for her life on the ground..."

Lee shook his head. "Don't think of her like that--"

"SHUT UP!" you screamed, starting to sob. "You're a murderer!"

"I'm not--"

"Lee, didn't you say you support the death penalty?" you snarled, wrapping your finger around the trigger again even though your hand started to shake.

"You know you can't," he whispered. "What about Bea? Could you kill her father?"

"I could kill the man who took her grandmother away from her, before she even had a chance to meet her."

"And Penny? She's so little, she wouldn't even remember me. She'd never know me. She'd never know who I was."

You sobbed, trying not to let it affect you, but truthfully it was heartbreaking to imagine. "Maybe it's better that she loses the man she gets to think you were, than be raised by the man you really are."

Lee started to cry, too, something you'd never seen him do before. "And the little one, growin' in ya? Will he miss me?"

You were crying so hard you couldn't even hold the gun straight, or see past your tears to aim it right.

"Let me meet my son," he pleaded. "Please, baby, you can hate me forever just... put the gun down. I need to meet my son."

You didn't really mean to lower it, but you were so terrified and overwhelmed-- with what he'd done, with what you were about to do-- and you realized he was stepping towards you just as you fell and crumpled right into his arms.

"Shh, s'okay," he whispered as he held you, prying the gun from your limp hand and tossing it aside onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry, god, I'm so sorry," you sobbed against his chest.

"Me too," he replied. "We can't take back what we've done. But we can still be good people. We can still raise those kids right. They're gonna be so much better than us."

"Let's hope so," you whispered as you pulled him closer.

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 11 - FAST

tw // violence, swearing

----

I have never, ever told anyone my secrets. I've barely even told them my real name. But everything Fury had said felt like a stab to the chest. I didn't like the fact that he had that power over me. To hear someone say the things I've only thought about in the dark out loud was making me feel exposed. I wanted that to end, and quick.

He was right. That was what angered me the most. Every syllable, every word he had uttered was dangerously close to the truth. No one knew I had nightmares. And no one knew I lived most of my life in the darkness of the Red Room. These were things that I kept to myself. But somehow, Nick Fury got his dirty hands on my secrets, and I wanted the one who put their nose in my business to pay.

"What makes you think someone told me these things?" He inquired. I wasn't interested in his game anymore. I just wanted him to get straight to the point.

"The fact that you question the possibility is a sign." I dug my fingers into my own skin, fighting the anger away. I couldn't let it get out of my control, not now. No matter how much I wanted to strangle him to death, I couldn't risk getting killed. At least not until I find out who spilled my secrets. "Answer me, Fury. How did you get the information?"

He took a deep breath, pausing before he said, "Through a reliable source."

"A source that happened to know everything about me? You're a horrible liar." I scowled. "I made sure those sources were dead. Hell, anyone who knows even my favourite colour is six feet under." Or you know, burnt to ashes. A very creative way of disposing and cremating, I'd say.

"I beg to differ."

"Oh? So, I wasn't the one who killed them? I wasn't the one who murdered them with my own two hands? Who watched them take their very last breath with my own two eyes?" I watched him squirm in his seat, it was subtle but I caught it. "I guess they burned their own bodies."

He laughed, raising his eyebrows in mock humour. "That's cute."

"Adorable, I know." I grinned, but I knew the usual playful sass it carried was lacking. I was dripping venom. "Someone new told you these things. And if you want my full loyalty..." I turned my head to the mirror, which was obviously built for people to look in. If I guessed right, a group of Avengers were standing right behind it.

"Then you'll let me slit their throat."

The man let out a loud laugh, baring his teeth as he did so. "We have files of you, too, you know. Don't need to get so dramatic, L/N. You're not as secretive as you think."

"God. You can stop trying to lie now, Nicholas. There is no file. Even if there was, it would be useless. I wiped all my records clean and I made sure of that." I leaned forward. "Now, tell me the name."

On the other side of the mirror, a certain Avenger was trying her hardest not to run away.

"She's going to kill me." Wanda let out a sharp breath, her heart racing fast. She didn't think herself as someone who scared easily, but the look in Y/N's eyes shook her to her core. "She's already overpowered me once. I'm too weak against her. My powers-"

"-are strong enough to defend yourself against L/N. You have nothing to worry about, Wanda." Pietro cut in, trying to comfort his sister. He kneeled in front of her as she sat, looking into her eyes.

"I meddled in her mind. I invaded her privacy." She stood up from her seat, her chair screeching against the floor as she pushed it forcefully. She was trying her hardest to not explode into a flurry of emotions. God, if stress was visible in colours, she'd look like a damn festival.

"We needed you to." This time it was Steve who spoke up. "What you did was necessary, and if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have even gotten close to her accepting the offer."

"Besides, she's just playing mind games." Natasha chipped in. "She's trying to get Fury to break."

"Well, it might not look like it's working on him but I'm definitely affected." The young woman's eyes glowed red once more, the familiar scarlet waves swimming through and around her fingers. She tried to focus on the warmth, trying to find comfort in the familiar surge of her powers.

"Calm down." Pietro put his hands on her shoulders, urging her to stay seated. "She can't do anything to you. We won't let her." And he swore on that.

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'm sure Fury's got it all under control." Tony moved from the mirror to join his friends in comforting the young witch. "Plus, Pietro's right. We won't let her mess with you."

Wanda chuckled, amused at her family's antics of trying to cool her down."Are you just trying to calm me down so I don't accidentally blow this building up, or do you guys actually care about me?"

"A little bit of both." Tony shrugged. A small laugh escaped her.

"Guys." Natasha's voice brought them back to the problem at hand. Everyone moved to the mirror.

"You can shove that up your motherfucking ass, L/N."

The conversation had gotten heated. The room went still as everyone anticipated Y/N's next words. But then they couldn't hear her anymore.

"He muted us." Tony huffed.

Nick had disabled the speakers, and all they could see was him screaming at her, pointing in the direction of the two-way mirror.

Nobody moved.

Y/N was laughing, her body shaking as she cackled. They could see her mouthing a few more words before Nick slammed his palms onto the table and walked out, leaving her with a smug smile on her face.

Everyone's blood went cold.

"Wanda." The door suddenly opened, revealing a stone-faced Nick Fury. "I'm afraid it's gotten out of my control."

———

After approximately two hours, two men dressed in the familiar S.H.I.E.L.D attire came into the room I was in, and then led me outside to a well-lit hallway. The walls were stark-white, strips of light lining up at the sides of the ceiling.

"Where are you taking me?" I turned to the taller one of them two, trying to get him to look me in the eyes. But he kept his head straight, dragging me along as he walked.

"The Director ordered us to take you to him." He didn't react. He was like a robot...not even an ounce of emotion behind his eyes. I bet he'd be very good at playing poker. Maybe I should ask.

"Can't he just get me himself?" I whined like an ass, wanting to get at least some reaction out of him. But he stayed silent, barely affected. I huffed, turning to the other one instead. He was bald and he looked very angry.

"Is he always like this?" I pretended to laugh. Bald Man gave me nothing but a fierce sideways glance. This was boring. They were boring me. "Fine. Don't talk. Can't believe S.H.I.E.L.D hires people with dry humour."

"Hey...out of curiosity, do you play poker by any chance?" I genuinely wanted to know. Tall Man threw me a dirty look before turning his head away again. Still no damn reply, though.

"Jeez. It's just a question." I stopped talking immediately. I wasn't going to waste my breath on these two assholes.

Just as I was about to bask in the silence, a loud crash echoed through the hallway, the sound of gunfire and shouts bouncing off the white walls.

"GET DOWN!"

I heard the familiar whizz of a bullet coming towards us, and immediately dived to the floor, stomach flat on the ground. It hurt like a bitch, but I'd take a couple of bruises over a bullet any day.

The two men beside me immediately reached for their handguns, aiming it at whoever shot at us. I couldn't see, too busy trying to dodge bullets to focus on the attacker. It was a cursed situation. I was in handcuffs, and I had no weapon whatsoever.

Yet here I was, getting shot at in the hallway of S.H.I.E.L.D's headquarters. What have I gotten myself into?

"Search for her!" I heard a male voice shouting in the middle of all the commotion. Could it be? This wasn't just anyone. The minute I heard his voice, my blood went cold and I froze in my tracks.

He was here. And he was coming to get me.

"We have to get her out of here!" Tall Man yelled to his friend.

I heard the familiar crackle of a radio from where Bald Man was, "Code Red! Code Red! We've got a breach in the security system-"

A gunshot cut him off.

"Damn it–Tall Guy! I think this is the part where you take my handcuffs off!" I prayed he would comply. Please just get me out of here, please.

He didn't respond, so I rolled over to my back and heaved myself up, hands still bound. I couldn't be here. He was here. How did they find out where I was?

It took me years to get off their radar. I was invisible for so long, it seemed like I was so close to being forgotten. But they never forget.

Hydra never forgets.

I ran blindly through the hallway. Somewhere in the commotion, they threw smoke-bombs at us. Even if I wanted to run, I'd risk running into them.

Thousands of possibilities swam through my mind. Was this really the end for me? For my freedom?

My panic levels surged as I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders. I yelled, but I ducked out of their weak grip quickly, landing on the ground with a hard thud as my imbalance overpowered me. It was an unfamiliar face wearing an all-too-familiar emblem on her chest.

"You." She grinned.

"Yeah, no shit, it's me." I tried to scurry away from her, dragging my body pathetically on the ground as she creeped closer to me. The minite she was close enough, I swung my right foot across her feet. She fell on her ass immediately.

Old-school trick. Hydra's hiring idiots, now?

I scoffed before moving into action, swiping her gun away from her holster and shooting at her stomach. She clutched her wound, howling in pain as blood flowed out. I couldn't afford to think twice about it.

I ran again, this time in the opposite direction of where she had come from. Then I bumped into a brick-hard chest.

Panicked, I aimed my gun at the intruder. Only to find a silver-haired man at the end of the barrel of my gun. He held his arms up. "Don't shoot."

"I could pull the trigger right now." I was breathless–not only from fatigue, but from anxiety. "I would, you know."

He didn't say anything, but he did move. It was a hell of a blur, and just as I blinked, he held my gun in his hand while I stood empty-handed.

"Now you can't." He raised an eyebrow.

"Find her! Now!" It was his voice again.

Pietro's eyes flicked from my face to the area behind me. I turned away from him again, scanning the place for an escape. There was none.

My hands were cuffed. I had no weapon. I had no advantage. I was at a dead end.

There was only one way out of this. Unless I was willing to walk head-first into hell again. And God knew I would take this road just to avoid the other consequence.

"Alright. I give up."

"What?"

"I pledge my fucking loyalty to you. Or whatever it is that you want. I swear." I looked into his eyes, desperate for him to oblige, to listen. "Now get me out of here. Fast."

[castiel-kline]

cas and balthazar meet again post finale

This one really got away from me, and it got really long. I promise it does answer the prompt but I also made it super plotty for some reason. I hope you don’t mind!

Being taken by the Empty didn’t feel like dying. 

Of course, that’s what was happening to him, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt cold, and painful, and vengeful. Lonely and miserable and laced with glittering knives of regret.

It was his damnation. Not the traditional sense of the word, but true nonetheless. 

But if facing it meant he’d save his family? Save Jack from being subject to the same fate? He’d damn himself to this a thousand times over, without a single shred of hesitation. 

The Empty had him entirely covered in its goo, tendrils snaking under his skin and into his body from every angle. In through the eyes, the nose, snaking down his throat. Under the fingernails, into the ears, scraping through the tattered remnants of his grace and pressing down around his true form. 

It was agony. 

Eventually it subsided, and some of the inky tendrils retracted, leaving him gasping for air that neither existed in this realm nor was truly necessary. He collapsed in a heap, the Empty bubbling around him. He spared a glance up, wondering if the Shadow were nearby to gloat before sending them both into slumber. What he saw… well. Unexpected didn’t quite cover it. 

“Jack?” 

“Hmm. Guess again, Castiel.” 

“No.” Don’t you dare look like him.

“Oh, yes. Because it hurts you to look at him, doesn’t it?” The Shadow leaned down, condescension clear as day in its every move. So wrong on Jack’s face that it twisted something deep within him. It stared him down, watching him squirm, mania-painted smirk stretching wider. “Good. I want you to suffer, so that’s what you’re going to do.” 

“I thought you wanted your peace and quiet,” Cas managed, as more tendrils snaked out over his wrists and ankles. Dragging him a little bit further down, completely at the Empty’s mercy. Somehow he suspected that was the point.

The Shadow straightened, looking down Jack’s nose at him. 

“Of course I do,” It said, emulating Jack’s earnestness. Liar. “But I can’t!”

“What?”

“Wonderboy-” the Shadow gesticulated wildly in the direction of its facsimile body “-woke everybody up when he exploded all over me. So I don’t get to sleep, no, and if I don’t get to sleep then you definitely don’t get to sleep. None at all.” 

Quicker than a blink, the Shadow had fisted Castiel’s collar in its hands, bringing their faces inches apart. 

“At least,” It whispered, eyes wild with an energy Jack had never, and would never, possess. “I get to make you suffer like you’ve made me suffer. So I want you to look at this face, Castiel. Look at it, and know that it’s contorted in tears right now because Papa Bear abandoned him.” 

The Shadow threw him down, the goo swallowing him right back up. Submerged in the dark, he scarcely felt its weight. He was too busy drowning in a fresh cascade of guilt.

It yanked him back up, tendrils leaving him suspended in the middle of nothing. Some of them twisted at his feathers, pulling them just enough to be excruciating but not enough to rip them free. He screamed.

“Be quiet!” The Empty released him, and Cas fell back down, every fibre of his being crying out in pain.

The Shadow cackled, everything about it from the pitch to the cadence to the intention screaming wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You’re never going to regret this, are you?”

Cas glared at it, mustering up as much defiance as he could. 

“No,” he croaked. “Because saving my family? That’s worth dying a thousand deaths.”

The Shadow doubled over laughing again. Then, quick as a blink, kicked him across the face, sending him reeling backwards.

“‘Die a thousand deaths’? Please. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Castiel pushed himself back up, following the Shadow’s pacing with his eyes. It walked with one arm tucked behind its back, the other gesticulating as it spoke.

“Death isn’t going to be enough for you, hmm. Oh, you know what you’ve never been able to take?” It spun back around, grinning down at him. “You can’t stand seeing the pain you’ve caused. And since you can’t see what’s left of your precious little family- not that they even care that you died, by the way- how would you feel about seeing the angels again?”

No. He must have looked visibly afraid, because the Shadow only smiled wider. 

“Not so pleasant a thought, hmm? Seeing as you killed most of them.” It laughed again, clapping its hands in an expression of glee that would have been endearing coming from Jack, but now simply served to be disturbing. “Oh, yes. It’ll be just like throwing a scrap of meat to a pack of starving dogs.”

Cas shook his head, but the Empty pressed on. It waved its hand, and Castiel was thrown some immeasurable distance away. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and watched in horror as the ground bubbled around him, and his brothers and sisters began to crawl their way out.

He recognized them, of course, because he’d taken care to never forget a single name. He saw Hael first, then Bartholomew, then Jonah and Efram and Ambriel and Samandriel. He saw Raphael, Uriel, Anna, Jophiel. He scrambled to his feet, unable to do anything but watch and wait for their wrath to undoubtedly descend upon him. 

Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled, running and dragging Castiel with them. He didn’t fight it, figuring that whoever had him was going to inflict a world of pain and there wasn’t a thing to do but accept it. They’d gone a fair distance, if there was such a thing as distance in nothing, before they stopped and Cas turned to face who had taken him. 

“Balthazar?” His voice came out strangled, as scarcely more than a whisper. 

“Cas,” Balthazar said, staring at him with something unreadable in his eyes. “Your wings…”

��Balthazar,” Cas repeated, finding himself unable to say anything else, mind swirling in an inescapable vortex of grief and guilt and pain. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so sorry.”

“What, for killing me? You weren’t yourself.”

“I was. That’s the problem.”

Balthazar just shook his head. “It’s going to take more than a stab in the back to get rid of me. You do know that, right?”

“If we weren’t already dead I’d offer you my blade to kill me. I deserve nothing more.”

“Castiel.” Cas forced himself to meet Balthazar’s eyes directly. “I know you, and so I forgive you. As I’ve told you before- nothing’s changed.”

Cas smiled bitterly. “Except me.”

“What happened to you?” Balthazar’s fingers traced the air where Castiel’s wings lay mangled and twisted in another dimension. “You look like you’ve been clawed apart by feral house cats.”

“I destroyed everything, Balthazar. So many times.” And he felt like he was being crushed under the weight of all his mistakes. Perhaps this was the torture the Empty preferred for him- giving him back a lost friend, giving him forgiveness- and then ripping it away again. Surely even someone as loyal as Balthazar wouldn’t want to associate with him after learning of the things he’d done.

“You, Cassie? I’ve only ever known you to do what’s right.”

“How can you say that when you saw me make one of my biggest mistakes? When I killed you because of it?”

Balthazar scoffed. “Mistake? Cas, you were trying to stop our control freak of an older brother from letting the other ones out to destroy the world. What about that is a mistake? Sure, Crowley was a bit of a snake, but come on. It can’t have been so long that you’ve forgotten your good intentions.”

Cas didn’t say a word, and Balthazar narrowed his eyes. “How long has it been, Cas?”

Cas sighed. “Nine years.”

“Nine years.” Balthazar’s eyebrows had shot all the way up. “Wow. Not long at all. So what could… no. Tell me you weren’t.”

Castiel frowned. “Weren’t what?”

“Weren’t still kissing the Winchesters’ asses for the whole nine years.”

“They’re my friends, Balthazar.”

“Oh, really?” Balthazar crossed his arms. “If they’re your friends, why did they treat you like one of the guns they keep in the trunk of their wretched car?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it, Cas?” Balthazar sighed, backing down a little. Nine years of death wouldn’t stop them from bickering, it seemed, though he did put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. An uncharacteristic attempt to show solidarity through the sarcasm.

“Look,” Balthazar continued. “What you do is your business, but… just tell me there was something good in those years. That it wasn’t just you running around trying to prove yourself to them.”

There was something, in fact, something he’d never expected. Something beautiful.

“I had a son,” he admitted. He’d often wondered what Jack would be like meeting angels that weren’t hell-bent on killing him. He’d imagined Jack meeting Balthazar, or Hannah, or Rachel or Samandriel, but it would never come to fruition. The best he would get was telling them about him, assuming he would be able to escape being choked and stretched and drowned by the depths of the Empty for all eternity.

“Why, Cassie, I’m impressed,” Balthazar said wryly. Oh no. Before Cas could interject and explain, Balthazar continued. “Looks like you really did get that stick out of your ass. And you put it right up-”

“Balthazar! He’s not mine, not like that. He chose me, and his mother was a friend. That’s all.”

Balthazar seemed to enjoy how flustered he was, but his tone was serious. “You adopted a human child?”

“No, he’s a nephilim.”

“Ah,” Balthazar said. “So they changed the rules regarding them in the past nine years, then?”

“No,” Cas said again, getting frustrated. He’d forgotten how much Balthazar loved to hear himself speak. Even if he had missed it, it was still mildly insufferable.

“Well, you rebel Cas, you. But, ah- who was the sire?”

Cas winced. “Lucifer.”

“Oh, my. That is unfortunate.”

“Yeah. Jack’s nothing like him, though. He’s… he’s very much like his mother. And I like to think he’s a little bit like me, too.”

Balthazar looked at him, somehow still reading him like a book after all this time.

“You spoil the poor child, don’t you?”

“I most certainly do not,” Cas huffed.

“Oh, yes you do. You’ve always been soft, but now you’re practically a down pillow.”

Cas’ smile was sadder, again. “I told you I’ve changed.”

“Maybe so. But we haven’t.”

“Thank you.”

Balthazar smiled. “I do have one question though, Cas.”

“Of course.”

“How did you die?”

Well. He supposed it would have had to be asked eventually. Unfortunately his hesitation gave Balthazar another opportunity to talk over him.

“Please don’t tell me it was for the Winchesters.”

“I love them.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. And unfortunately I love that about you. Well, go on. Tell me a story.”

Cas shrugged. “I made a deal with the Empty. My life for Jack’s, which- it wasn’t even a question. It said that when I was finally happy, it would take me.”

Balthazar frowned. “What did you in?”

“You know, I’m not really sure. But I managed to save Dean, and that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, Cas,” Balthazar muttered, sounding deeply sad. “Well, at least you were clearly a better father than our dear old absent God. That much is clear.”

Cas’ heart sank. He couldn’t not tell him, though he didn’t necessarily want to break the news.

“Balthazar.”

“What?”

“Um. A lot has happened since I’ve last seen you, and there’s a lot you need to know, but God- God was never on our side.”

--------

They walked aimlessly through the Empty, keeping aware for signs of their siblings or the Shadow, but oddly finding none.

“Well then,” Balthazar said, flippant as ever. Cas was nearly sure he was deflecting.

“That’s all you have to say? You’re not angry?”

“Nope.” Forced cheerfulness. “Never liked him anyway. Frankly, I’m surprised you even met the man.”

Cas paused and stopped moving, feeling something tugging at his grace.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Balthazar had stopped too, hovering closer. 

A pocket of the nothingness in front of them seemed to pull itself inward, caving in like a black hole and then cracking open just a bit. Was this what it looked like when someone died and came to the Empty?

Hopefully not, because the distortion cleared and Jack was standing there. And it was painfully, obviously Jack, clearly indicated by everything from his posture to the grace Cas could feel reaching for his own.

Balthazar stiffened, preparing for a fight, but the minute Jack caught sight of Castiel the angel found himself with an armful of nephilim. He held on tight, feeling Jack trembling slightly.

Having connected the dots, Balthazar caught his eye over Jack’s shoulder and mouthed “down pillow.” Cas shook his head slightly, but turned his attention back to his son.

“Jack? Are you-”

“I’m getting you out, Cas,” Jack said, pulling back. “We’re both getting out of here.”

Balthazar’s stricken expression tugged at Cas’ heart.

“Just me?” Cas asked.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The other angels are awake, Jack. Can you…”

“I… maybe. But, Cas, I don’t… I don’t know them. Why…”

“It’s alright if you can’t,” Cas assured. “But if we can help them somehow, be that bringing them back or putting them to sleep… I need to try to make things right.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll try to help.”

Cas smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Thank you. And thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course. I missed you,” Jack said, eyes wide. Cas felt something else inside him twisting.

Balthazar cleared his throat, and Cas gently turned Jack around to face the third member of their party.

“Jack, this is Balthazar. He’s a good friend.”

Jack and Balthazar looked at each other, Jack frowning and Balthazar smirking in a horribly misguided attempt to be friendly. The silence stretched on, utterly deafening. Jack broke it first.

“I… I met an alternate universe version of you that was not very nice.”

Balthazar didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, you know what they say. Don’t judge an angel by their alternate universe counterparts, right?”

That got a bit of a smile out of Jack, though he was still wary. Cas couldn’t blame him, so he kept in contact to keep him at ease.

“We need to find the Shadow. Make an arrangement so that we can take a few angels with us and the Empty goes back to peace and quiet,” Jack said. The self-assuredness was clearly a front, but somehow Cas felt as if he’d have time to help Jack through it. 

“Okay,” he said, nodding at Jack. Jack nodded back, and the three of them started walking. Into what, they didn’t know. 

But Castiel had the strangest feeling that it was all going to turn out alright.

[kasey-writes-stuff]

Okay I’ve never really written angst before and I’m not good with writing things based of songs but I saw @httpskarlnap ask for a C!Ranboo fic based off of the song panic room so here it is!

Warning for- Nightmares , panic attacks , derealization , and heads being cut off! Please let me know if anything else needs a warning!

Panic room C!Ranboo

Ranboo is laid sleeping in the mansion but it’s anything but peaceful, his mind is being plagued with nightmares. In his nightmare and real life his hands shake as he hears voices as if he’s being surrounded by thousands of people each shouting something different at him but yet as he looks around he sees no one. All he sees is some torches that are almost burnt out, he cautiously looks around and begins to make his way down the dim hallway… As he begins walking he notices himself getting colder and colder, more fear starts to set in as he doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere he seems to be I. The same place he started just he’s now much much colder. He fiddles for his communicator and eventually finds it but sees it has no signal…

He grips it tightly both in anger and in fear, he’s stuck in a seemingly never ending but ever cold hallway with no way to contact anyone for any help. His only thoughts are to get out and get back to Michael and Tubbo, suddenly he hears a nearly ear piercing piglin like squeal… it couldn’t be could it!? His foot steps quicken trying to find some way out, suddenly he hears what sounds like tubbos voice screaming for him! He feels his chest tightening as he tries to run as fast as he can. He feels almost as if he has icecicles on his body yet he continues running, his chest is so tight he can barely breathe…

Finally he sees it! A light at the end of the hallway it’s so bright he nearly can’t stand to look at it! Suddenly he’s getting very very warm too warm to quickly, he feels himself losing conciseness but he still keeps running he can still hear Michael and tubbo screaming for him he has to keep going he has to save them! Just before he blacks out he makes it to the end of the hallway and then he blacks out… He awakes at he doesn’t know when he has no concept of time in normal dreams let alone nightmares! He raises up groggily rubbing his eyes, his eyes widen as he sees the site before him.

Tubbo is tied to a chair a bandana has been shoved in his mouth, Michael is in the corner shivering with a figure looming over him, the figure has their back turned making ranboo unable to see their face but the second he hears the first word come out of their mouth his brain is screaming to grab Michael and tubbo and to run, his breathe stops, his body feeling colder than it ever did while walking down the hallway! “Hello ranboo nice of you to join us hm took you a while though I figured you would get here much quicker… you know being half endermen and able to teleport and all”

Right as ranboo is about to begin berating himself for being so stupid the figure lets out a low chuckle “oh that’s right you couldn’t have teleported if you wanted to! I enchanted this place so teleporting takes away three hearts every time you try it and you wind up even farther back than you started!” Ranboo tried to take steady deep breathes as he stood and began walking towards the figure a new purpose sensing to fill his body upon the realization the figure had a hand on Michaels shoulder “Get your hands off my son!” The figure laughs softly “woah woah woah calm down me and little Michael here were just playing a nice game of patty cake weren’t we Michael?”

Michael sniffled in fear as he looked up to his taller dad “p-papa p-please h-help d-dada h-hurt” Ranboos heart shattered as he looked over and noticed one of tubbos horns was chipped and his legs had missing fur patches “Michael don’t worry I’m gonna save you and dada!” He began to walk closer Michael and the figure but he paused quickly as the figure suddenly pulled out an axe and was now facing him as he held the axe up to Michaels small neck “One more step and Michael gets it!” The small piglin squealed in pure terror “PAPA I’M SCARED!” muffled screams could be heard from tubbo and tears could be seen falling from his eyes

Ranboo took a deep breathe eyes narrowing as he attempted to control his panic “Dream… give me my son.. NOW!” Dream smiled evilly “oh wow yelling?! Good job ranboo you’ve come so far since I first found you! What’s next are you gonna actually pull your sword out and threaten me hm?” Dream blinked his eyes dramatically as he titled his head at ranboo as he spoke “because that would be just sooooo precious! Almost as precious as little Mikey here screaming for his dads to help as I ripped him out of his bed but it was far too late! By the time tubbo got to the room Mikey was gone and now he was suddenly trapped and brought to this same room! All while you slept so soundly that you didn’t even notice a single thing you didn’t even so much as turn once! I mean I had to practically drag you here! My gosh that was no easy task!”

Ranboo growled loudly trying to ignore the voices surrounding him telling him what a failed father and failed husband he is not even able to protect his own family! “Dream I am not going to say it again give me Michael now! Or else…” Dream snickered softly rolling his eyes “or else what? You really think you can get your sword out in time to kill me before I can chop sweet innocent little Michaels head off? And before I can swiftly chop yours off leaving tubbo to die alone.. and oh it’s his final life right? So once he dies sure you’ll respawn but Michael? He only has one life so you’ll be all alone left here for eternity left with the voices screaming to you about how you’re such a failure not just as a husband and father but as a friend and just as person in general! You’ll be left here trying to find a way out but each time you think you’ve found it? It’ll just be a room where you’ll be forced to watch Michael and tubbo die over and over again!”

Ranboos hand shook with fear and anger with each and every word Dream spoke… the more he spoke the angrier ranboo got… until finally a huge scream tore from his throat and suddenly the room was filled with dozens of endermen! They all looked to ranboo “Army….” He took a deep breathe as he pointed to Dream “ATTACK!” Suddenly they all flew towards Dream! Screams of pain could be heard from Dream as the endermen attacked him one by one! Ranboo quickly ran over and grabbed Michael hugging him tightly as Michael sobbed onto his shoulder, once he had Michael he ran to tubbo still holding Michael with one arm he used the other to quickly unwrap the bandana from tubbos mouth!

Tubbo gasped for air before managing to say “I knew you would save us!” Ranboo nodded quickly “I could never let you two die you’re everything to me I couldn’t live if I didn’t have you two” tubbo smiled softly and as soon as ranboo got him untied he wrapped his arms around ranboo clinging to his neck as his legs wrapped around him! Ranboo smiled in relief as he held his husband and son, but suddenly a deep evil laugh was heard and ranboo looked to the corner and saw nothing but mere ender pearls and a laughing dream “oh ranboo poor poor ranboo you tried so hard… you really did your best but…” Dream began fake sniffling before smirking “YOU’RE BEST WASN’T ENOUGH!” Suddenly like magic Tubbo and Michael were ripped out of his grip! And before ranboo could even scream …

It was too late their necks collided with dreams axe, ranboo fell to his knees unable to scream, unable to cry, unable to do anything at first all that could be heard in the room was dreams maniacal laughter, suddenly a few more moments pass and finally a ear currtling scream rips from ranboos throat! It’s so loud he can almost feel his volcol cords ripping apart! And that’s when he wakes up sweating beyond belief as his throat feels incredibly dry and sore…

A light turns on and in comes tubbo practically running to ranboos bed “ranboo?!” Ranboo let’s out a strangled scream as he holds his hands up “GET AWAY GET AWAY YOU’RE NOT REAL! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU DIE AGAIN GET AWAY! GO AWAY PLEASE!” Tubbo holds his hands up slowly “Ranboo ranboo listen it’s me Tubbo your husband remember?! It’s me! I’m real! I’m not going to die I’m real okay?!” Ranboo slowly peaked out through his hands and saw tubbos hand out stretched… he very carefully touched it gently stroking it before grabbing it tightly and pulling tubbo towards him! Tubbo quickly buried himself in ranboos chest as ranboo slowly tried to even his breathing…

“I-I’m i-‘I’m sorry I- he… Dream…” tubbo nodded not needing a full sentence to understand what ranboo meant “shh shh shh it’s okay it’s okay the nightmare is over you’re okay I’m okay-“ suddenly ranboo took in a deep breathe his eyes widening “MICHAEL MICHAEL WHERE IS HE?!” Before tubbo can say anything a small figure clutching a stuffie can be seen in the door way… the figure slowly makes their way towards the bed as tilts their head “dada and papa okay?” Ranboo sighs in relief slumping back on the bed as tubbo grabs Michael swiftly pulling him onto the bed and the three of them promptly cuddling “papa and dada are okay buddy dada just had a nightmare is all!”

Michael titled his head pouting “papa had nightmare? Here!” He held out his stuffy for ranboo smiling proudly “stuffie always make Mikey feel better after nightmare!” Ranboo takes the stuffie holding it gently as he kisses Michaels head “thank you Mikey you’re a really nice boy” Mikey smiles brightly at the praise and tubbo smiles as well before softly looking to ranboo “so are you alright to try and sleep now” Ranboo takes a moment before nodding and pulling both tubbo and Michael closer “I think so”

And so with that the small family was back asleep as if no nightmare had ever disturbed their peacefulness

The end

[farao-atka]

saccharine | a seccolata playlist

pronouns and stuff are adjusted x)   [ the link is  h e r e  ]

saccharine — jazmin bean: everything you do/ i'm obsessed with you/i don't mean to scare/ but you're just so cute/ every move you make/ you're fucking sweeter than a cake/i wanna cut you up/ and put you in my oven just to bake/ this shit is scaring me/ the thought of caring/ for anyone makes me want to scream/ looking at you makes me wanna/ gouge out my eyes/ bloody surprise/ like cherry pie/ will you be mine?/ saccharine, feeling kind of sick vomit in my teeth/ i don't want this responsibility

baby eyes — green day: they say my middle name is danger/ the guy you keep away from strangers / i’m out of control/ oh baby when i see your pretty face/ god rest your fucking soul/ 'cause baby, baby I was born to kill

prescription — mindless self indulgence: i'm the doctor, i'm the patient/ don't forget that, it's important/ if ya love me, like i love me/ everybody will be sorry

nine inch nails — closer: i broke apart my insides/ help me/ i've got no soul to sell/ i wanna fuck you like an animal/ i wanna feel you from the inside/ my whole existence is flawed/ you get me closer to god

fuck time — green day: take a look into my eyes/ i wanna hold you 'til you're paralyzed/ oh baby, baby, it's fuck time/ you know i really want to make you mine

dna — little mix: no scientist or biology/ it’s only natural that i'm so affected/ and my heart won't beat again/ if i can't feel him in my veins/ no need to question, i already know/ it's in his dna

turn me on — nicki minaj: doctor, doctor, need you back home/ doctor doctor, where you at? give me something/i need your love, i need your loving/ you got that kind of medicine that keeps me coming

the dismemberment song — blue kid: hold still, my sweet/ i'm trying to measure the space between your molar and your jaw/ this caliper– no cause for fear/ no, it... it doesn't hurt/ it only helps me measure how much skin you have

can’t decide — scissor sisters: i can't decide/ whether you should live or die/ you'll probably go to heaven/ please don't hang your head and cry/ no wonder why/ my heart feels dead inside/ it's cold and hard and petrified/ lock the doors and close the blinds/ we're going for a ride

culling of the fold — the decemberists: cut him up boy/ he's a wicked disgrace/ and he said it to your face/ you better cut him up boy/ take him by the teeth/ get him down on his knees/ with your hands all shaking

what do they know? — mindless self indulgence: beat me up/ beat me down/ mess me up/ beyond all recognition/ for what it's worth/ i'd do it again/ with no consequence/ i will do it again

adrenalize — in this moment: i must confess i'm addicted to this/ shove your kiss straight through my chest/ i can't deny, i'd die without this/ make me feel like a god

love buzz —  shocking blue: would you believe me when i tell you/ you're the king of my heart/ please don't deceive me when I hurt you/ just ain't the way it seems

cascade — siouxsie and the banshees: the air was shining/ shining like a wedding ring/ barbed like sex/ i felt ten thousand volts/ my chest was full of eels/ pushing through my usual skin/ i opened up new wounds/ pouting, shouting

tear you apart — she wants revenge: he wanted her and this was bad/ he wanted to do things to him it was making him crazy/ now a little crush turned into a like/ and now he wants to grab him by the hair and tell her/ i want to hold you close/ skin pressed against me tight/ lie still, and close your eyes, boy/ i want to fucking tear you apart

drain you — nirvana: i don't care what you think unless it is about me/ it is now my duty to completely drain you/ chew my meat for you/ pass it back and forth in a passionate kiss/ from my mouth to yours/ i like you

touch — lights fade low: no one will stain you/ no one will pain you/ i'll keep you clean until my end/ no one will hurt you/ the way that i hurt you/ nothing will feel the same again

polly — nirvana: i think she wants some water/ to put out the blowtorch / let me clip your dirty wings/ let me take a ride, cut yourself/ want some help, please myself

qual — xmal deutschland: deine qual ist meine lust/ meine liebe ist dein tod/ nachts wenn du schläfst bin ich lebendig/ mein tag ist deine dämmerung/ meine wiege ist dein grab

clown — switchblade symphony: crying loud, you are crawling on the floor/ just a beautiful baby/ you're nothing more/ close your eyes/ you are crawling into sleep/ i swear i won't break you/ if you let me take you/ where the willows never weep

church of no return — Christian death: in the beginning there was sinning/ and in the end, well, let's pretend/ blessed is the fruit i dare you/ to take another bite of it/ and somehow i think you will/ in spite of it

bloody mary — lady gaga: love is just a history that they may prove/ and when you're gone/ i'll tell them my religion's you

spiritual cramp — christian death: crosses burn your temples on slaughter avenue/ it takes too much time to say 'i refuse'/ time is digging graves for the chosen few/ children dig graves for me and you/ describe the illness i'll prescribe the cure

cavity - first communion — christian death: nailing you to the wall/ nailing you to the spanish mystic/ i sit and hold hands with myself/ i sit and make love to myself/ i've got blood on my hands/ i've got blood on your hands

where did you sleep last night — nirvana: my boy, my boy, don't lie to me/ tell me where did you sleep last night

lithium — nirvana: i'm so happy/ 'cause today I found my friends/ they're in my head/ and i'm not scared, light my candles/ in a daze 'cause i've found god/ i like it, i'm not gonna crack/ i miss you, i'm not gonna crack/ i love you, i'm not gonna crack/ i killed you, i'm not gonna crack

carpe diem — green day: carpe diem, a battle cry/ are we all too young to die?/ making a living/ making a killing/ what's worth forgiving?

dirty rotten bastards — green day: calling all the demons, this is the season/ next stop is therapy/ we're the retarded and the brokenhearted/ the season of misery/ gonna take it further/ get away with murder/ and no one here is getting out alive

witness — mindless self indulgence (yes, unironically. no, i’m not writing down the lyrics.)

brain stew — green day: my mind is set on overdrive/ the clock is laughing in my face/ a crooked spine, my senses dulled/ passed the point of delirium/ on my own, here we go

minority — green day (my big cio song!!): i pledge allegiance to the underworld/ a face in the crowd unsung, against the mold/ without a doubt singled out the only way I know/ 'cause I want to be the minority/ i don't need your authority/ down with the moral majority

dr. feelgood — mötley crüe (dealer cio dealer cio dealer cio): i've got one thing you'll understand/ he’s not what you'd call a glamorous man/ got one thing that's easily understood/ he’s the one they call dr. feelgood

ich will — rammstein: ich will dass du mir vertraut/ ich will dass du mir glaubt/ ich will deine blicke spüren/ ich will jeden herzschlag kontrollieren/ ich will deine phantasie/ ich will deine energie/ ich will deine hände sehen/ ich will in beifall untergehen

gimme chocolate — babymetal: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

candy candy — kyary pamy pamyu (see above)

body — mother mother: take my eyes, take them aside/ take my face, and desecrate/ my arms and legs/ they get in the way

spellbound — siouxsie and the banshees: from the cradle bars/ comes a beckoning voice/ it sends you spinning/ you have no choice/ following the footsteps/ of a rag doll dance/ spellbound

someone’s in the wolf — queens of the stone age: he steps between the trees, a crooked man/ there's blood on the blade/ don't take his hand/ tempt the fates, beware the smile/ it hides all the teeth, my dear/ what's behind them/ so glad you could stay/ forever

gutter glitter — switchblade symphony: iridescent eyes, of the seahorse rise/ treasure he loves, others despise/ braceletes of silver adorn my wrists/ candy kissed from sugar lips

l’insetto — hiroshima mon amour: io voglio il cuore, io voglio il sangue/ voglio bruciare, voglio uscire/ io voglio andare dove mi porta la coscienza/ di essere un insetto/ voglio fuggire, voglio tornare/ é sempre il tempo per sognare/ ed ai miei occhi un fiore è differente/ un insetto è differente dagli occhi di un insetto

a day — clan of xymox: where are you/ when i am needing you… so far away/ i think you're the most important to me to me/ my sunken footsteps put themselves on/ through this gallery of deceased

restless heart syndrome — green day: i've got a really bad disease/ it's got me begging on my hands and knees/ so, take me to emergency/ 'cause something seems to be missing/ i'm elated, medicated/ lord knows i've tried to find a way/ to run away/ you’d be surprised what I endure

wallflower — switchblade symphony: something is happening underneath the ground/ for he’s been waiting to bloom/ thinking and wondering/ of his climb up to the sun/ “let me grow… the soil, it strangles me”

[johannstutt413]

(requested by mathmaticalknight; continuing from this)

“Ahh~ Home sweet home.” The Doctor opened the car door for Pramanix with a brilliant smile. “And so life begins anew for, not one, but now two.”

“I believe it’s actually four,” Encio noted as he held the opposite door open for Projekt Red.

The other Feline sighed, shaking her head. “Well, I didn’t expect to share the second half of my honeymoon with you, brother - or to have a honeymoon, truth be told - but I have to admit, I don’t feel like strangling you as much as I thought I might. If the Great Green One gives you any trouble, you know where to find us.”

“That we do.” SilverAsh felt a tug on his arm and sighed. “Before you go, though, Anya...can Red-”

“Of course she can~” Like a doting family friend loading up the visitee’s kids with sugar and presents, the Karlan Priestess offered the Lupo her tail and giggled happily as she stroked it with a degree of restraint and a hell of a lot of joy.

Neither the Doctor or Encio knew when to retrieve their respective wife from the exchange, so they simply waited for Red to release the tail, positively glowing. “So...so fluffy~ Bye, Anya! Bye, Doctor.”

“Bye!” Pramanix snorted; she couldn’t see her husband’s face at the moment, but that’d clearly affected him. “Jealous?”

“Did you hear how much her tone dropped when she said goodbye to me? What am I, chopped liver?”

The Feline took him by the arm. “Well, you’re my chopped liver, if that helps.”

“It’s better than nothing.” He shook his head, smiling again. She just had that effect on him. “Say, I’m getting kind of hungry. Want me to start dinner when we get home?”

“Oh, yes, please. I could eat a city-ship right now...”

In the opposite direction, Red and SilverAsh made their way back to the Feline’s residence to set down their bags before heading out to eat. The Lupo was still basking in the afterglow of tail-fluffing, and Encio was basking in her basking. “They do make a good couple,” he smiled. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“True,” Red agreed, “but not better than us.”

“We did beat them at every game of cards we played...Dear, I believe someone’s waiting for us.” They’d just made it to the front door to his apartment, and much as he knew where to strike foes too cowardly to reveal themselves, he knew someone had infiltrated his sanctum.

The Lupo shook her head. “We both know who.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do,” Kal’tsit agreed as she opened the door from the other side, Monst3r looming ominously behind her. “I’m due an explanation and three good reasons why I should allow this to continue.”

“Dr. Kal’tsit-” Encio began.

She glared at him. “I’m not talking to you. Whatever it is the Doctor sees in you, from my perspective, our relationship is entirely commercial. Eloping with my daughter is near treasonous as far as I’m concerned. So, Red, my three reasons?”

“...You’ll have none,” Red replied, “just as you have no daughter.”

“Red...” SilverAsh, arm around her shoulders, could feel her shaking...with fear? Or something else?

Kal’tsit didn’t seem as phazed as one might expect, but that did move her. “Excuse me?”

“I will.” She gestured to the open hallway behind them. “You’re excused from our home.”

“Your doing, I assume?”

He sighed. “I’ve never had this effect on a woman in my life...but I love her more than life itself, and it’d be best for our child if both of us were still alive at the end of today, so please, Dr. Kal’tsit, leave before she does something rash.”

“...Child?” The green ‘Line walked around them, visibly distraught. “G-go on; I won’t darken your door again.”

“That wasn’t anything like I expected,” SilverAsh noted as they walked inside.

The Lupo collapsed onto their couch. “I’m done for the day.”

“I can tell.” Encio smiled, kneeling to scratch behind her ears. “I’ll order in for us instead.”

“Thank you...Cuddles, please.”

He’d just pulled out his phone, but that wasn’t an issue; a few minutes later, with dinner on its way, the Feline and his brave little Red were sunk into the couch. She was too tired to even play with his tail, but that just gave him a chance to hold her close and purr in her ear. Whatever had happened to change Kal’tsit’s mind, they’d won...and if that woman tried to come between them again, she’d better be ready for a thousand True Silver Slashes, because this little floofbucket was his and his alone.

“How do you think it went?” Pramanix asked as she walked to the couch after dinner. “The ambush, I mean?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Hard to say, but I think if it’d gotten that bad, we would’ve heard the explosions.”

“From my brother?”

“From any of them, honestly.” One could never tell with Red in the mix. “You don’t think she’ll-”

Knock knock knock. Three weak taps on the door.

He sighed. “Speak of the devil...Good evening, Kal- My Goddess, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Is she really pregnant? I’ve already seen them, but is she really pregnant, Doctor? I know you were with them.”

“Yeah, I think so.” The Doctor caught her as she fell forward. “Whoa, hey, it’s alright...What happened?”

She was shuddering in his arms. “She said...I wasn’t her mother...”

“True from a biological standpoint,” Pramanix noted-

“-but you did raise her,” he interjected, “so that’s not entirely true. People say harsh things when faced with danger, though, Kally. I mean, if someone said I couldn’t marry Anya, I probably would’ve killed them.”

Another shudder. “She went for her knife.”

“Oh Goddess...Would you like to stay for dinner?”

The other Feline in the room sighed. “I’ll get the wine.”

“Thank you.” ‘Kally’ took a deep breath and stepped out of the Doctor’s arms. “She’s not happy about me being here?”

“Eh, she’s just a little cranky after dinner...and before dinner...and during dinner sometimes. She’s always cranky, and it’s adorable~”

[29-pieces]

Whumptober Day 25 - Good Omens

Day 25: Disoriented Fandom/setting: Good Omens, post-series Read on AO3 Read on ff.net

~*~

"Crowley, I want to help, I just don't know how!"

"You're a witch, aren't you? Do something... witchy!"

Crowley yanked his dark glasses off so that Anathema would get the full benefit of his terrifying snake-ish scowl, forgetting for a second that they had saved the world together and she was altogether unafraid of him.

The witch in question sighed and rubbed her forehead. "We've been over this," she reminded him. "I'm an occultist and most of my 'witchiness' came from a book of someone else's prophecies, which I don't have anymore! And anything I ever learned... Crowley, nothing would have prepared me to deal with this."

She gestured at the "this" she was referring to as Aziraphale wandered up to them with a brilliant smile. He was carrying a frog in his palms, holding it out to them with delight.

"Look at what I found, isn't it wonderful, Crowley?"

"No," Crowley snapped, too anxious to be nice. "Looks too much like Hastur."

"Who's that, my dear?"

Crowley stared at the angel in alarm, then gestured wildly at Anathema. "You see what I mean?" he demanded. "He's forgetting more and more every minute! He didn't know where the bookshop was. He didn't know he had a bookshop!"

Anathema winced. "Oh dear."

"Oh shit, more like! Listen, it was witchcraft that did this to him, it's witchcraft that should be able to fix him. Now are you going to help us or not?"

"Still no luck, then?" Newt asked, poking his head into the kitchen. "I don't suppose there's anything I can do to help?"

"He's not a computer," Crowley grumbled back, more waspish than he'd intended. He growled when Newt ducked his head, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry," he gritted out. "Just..."

Newt nodded his understanding, leaning against the doorframe. The frog in Aziraphale's hands croaked once, making the angel chuckle, before he held it out once again towards Anathema.

"Do you want to hold him?" he asked. "You seem like a lovely young lady. I'm Aziraphale, by the by, terribly sorry, I should have introduced myself right off."

Crowley froze, sharing a horrified look with Anathema. Throat dry, he reached towards the angel and took his arm in a firm grip. "Angel," he said slowly. "You- you remember Anathema."

"Oh, is that her name? Pleasure to meet you, my dear."

Crowley let go and turned his back, trying not to hyperventilate in panic. Aziraphale had known exactly who their witch friend was when they arrived ten minutes ago. Whatever the spell was that was taking the angel's memories, it was only getting worse. If it kept progressing...

"Crowley," Anathema said gently.

"He's going to forget," Crowley whispered, sliding down the wall to sit heavily on the floor. "He's all I've got and he's going to forget..."

"We'll fix this," she said. A rustle of skirts preceded her crouching down in front of him, dark eyes earnest. "I want to help. If we can figure out what spell the witch used on him, maybe- maybe I can undo it."

"And what happens when he doesn't remember we're not enemies like we're supposed to be?" Crowley asked, voice hoarse with fear. His jaw clenched and he scrambled to his feet. "I should go- if he sees me and doesn't know I'm a friend- if I put you two in danger because he attacks me-"

"Crowley!" Anathema hushed, holding out her hands and taking both of his. "He's not going to attack you. Or us. This is Aziraphale we're talking about-"

"This was Aziraphale!" Crowley was on the verge of a full meltdown, he could feel it coming, only it wasn't going to help and he had to do something to help. He could not lose his best friend, not like this, not after everything. He needed to keep his head, he knew it, but-

"Miss, please stand aside."

Crowley's heart clenched as Anathema was firmly guided aside, and then he was face to face with an angel who held not a single trace of recognition in his eyes. His breath caught in his throat as his entire world came crashing down. Aziraphale was gone, and now he was just an angel, and angels did not look on demons with kindness, or mercy, or friendship, or love.

"Hmm," The Angel said, peering at Crowley in open curiosity. "You're a demon, aren't you?"

Crowley swallowed and unconsciously pressed himself as close to the wall as he could. "Aziraphale," he whispered. "You- you have to remember me. I..."

"Aziraphale," The Angel repeated slowly, tasting the name like the sweetest crepe in Paris. "Oh, I do like that. Aziraphale." He smiled briefly, then turned his attention back to the demon at hand. The Angel's eyes narrowed, only for an instant, then widened with the same innocence Crowley had always known in him. "My word, you feel like so much love. I do beg your pardon if I seem forward, only that's not what we were led to expect, you see. You have a good heart, I can feel it. Although it- it seems to be quite broken. I wouldn't presume to overstep my bounds, but- is there anything I can do to help?"

Crowley's mouth opened in shock and then—because he simply couldn't help it—he choked out a strangled, sobbing laugh. The Angel was still Aziraphale after all. Of course he was. A very confused, very disoriented Angel, but his angel nonetheless. That fact was the only bit of encouragement Crowley needed to replenish his stores of hopefulness. They could figure this out, they'd figured out the Apocalypse after all, they just had to-

SMACK!

Crowley and Anathema both jumped as Aziraphale crumpled to the floor before their eyes. They stared in shock, first at the downed angel, then at each other, then at Newt.

"What did you do!?" Crowley practically screeched, leaping towards Newt, who backpedaled frantically. "Did you just knock him out with a dictionary?"

"Cookbook," Newt replied, holding the book up as evidence and also to keep as a barrier between himself and the furious demon.

"WHY!?"

Newt shrugged, finally ducking behind Anathema to protect him. "Factory reset!" he exclaimed. "Maybe all he needed-"

"Factory- I said he wasn't a computer!"

With another shrug, Newt explained, "I know... that's why I thought it might actually work. It wouldn't, if he was, because, well, it's me-"

"If you hurt him," Crowley seethed, holding up his hand in preparation to snap his fingers and cause something dreadful to happen, but Anathema quickly covered his hand with her own.

"He's an angel, Crowley. A knock over the head isn't going to hurt him- see, look, he's moving."

Still fixing a glower at Newt, Crowley quickly crouched down beside the now stirring angel and took his shoulder.

"Aziraphale?" he called, trying not to grip too tight but needing something to steady himself. "You okay?"

The angel groaned and raised a hand to rub the back of his hand, wincing where the book had hit him. "Oh, my head..." he groaned, peeling his eyes open slowly to see Crowley and the two humans crowding around him. He blinked. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Newt called down, still hiding behind Anathema. "I only wanted to help."

Aziraphale stared at him, and the glazed look in his eyes was no better at all in Crowley's mind than the blank ones from before. The demon growled, silently swearing a downpour of dead fish to follow Newt for the rest of his days, but that would come later. For now, he kept his attention on Aziraphale.

"Hey... you with us? Angel?"

The glazed, disoriented gaze turned towards him next, and it cost Crowley a tremendous chunk of his heart to see the utter lack of any recognition there, but then Aziraphale blinked and shook his head.

"Terribly sorry," he said, blinking again and then several more times as he rubbed his head. "Goodness, I don't know what came over me."

Crowley swallowed. If it had worked, he would forgive Newt everything. Carefully, he asked, "Do you... remember me?"

Aziraphale laughed. "Heavens, Crowley, I didn't hit my head that hard."

"Oh!" Crowley couldn't help but gasp, sinking back to sit on the floor, relief washing over him like a breath of fresh air. He fished a pair of sunglasses from his inner pocket and plopped them on his face so no one would notice if he happened to be tearing up a little bit. Beside him, Anathema smiled and offered Aziraphale a hand.

"You gave us a scare," she explained. "It seems a witch knocked you with some kind of memory spell. Newt saved you."

"Good thing," Crowley grumbled from the floor. "I'd have killed him otherwise."

"Crowley," Aziraphale murmured disapprovingly, and it was so Aziraphale that Crowley only smiled happily about it. "Memory spell, hmm... I don't recall anything beyond fighting the witch. What did I..." He trailed off and looked back down at Crowley.

The demon, who after all had known him for over six thousand years now, saw every single emotion the angel passed through in the various expressions of his face. It landed eventually on sorrow, which Crowley always hated to see there.

"Oh," Aziraphale breathed, crouching down beside his friend. "Crowley..."

"You're better now," the demon pointed out, shrugging like it was no big deal, like his world hadn't been ending only minutes before. "That's what matters."

He could tell Aziraphale wasn't buying it, but was relieved that the angel didn't push the issue. Not here, not in front of other people, not when Crowley was still feeling shaken and vulnerable. They'd end up talking about it later over a good vintage, no doubt, but for now Crowley was going to just sink into the fact that he still had Aziraphale.

Everything was going to be okay.

[prose-for-hire]

I just want to feel

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Hey! I would like to request a Spike/reader story in which the reader, Spike’s crush, is cutting as a coping mechanism and Spike catches her while she’s self harming. He’s shocked, but then tries to talk to her about it and comfort her, even though she’s downplaying it. And eventually he even confesses his feelings for her.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader self-harms. Destructive Behaviour. Blood mention. Swearing.

A/N: Honestly, I found it hard to write. I won’t take any self-harm requests after this one. I took this one, after some thought, cos I know some take comfort in reading them.

I have not tried/intended to romanticise the situation in my writing. It is not aspirational. If you recognise this in yourself, please talk to someone and get help if you can.

He could smell it before he saw you. Rust and salt. The smell usually making his stomach grumble, mouth salivate in anticipation. But today it meant only dread. It meant horror and pain and it meant you were hurt. He ran, past your kitchen and upstairs to the bathroom.

The door was locked and he kicked it open. The panic on his face heightening only when he saw the scene before him. Your figure appearing as a shadow of the person he knew as you turned to face him, sat on the lid of the toilet seat. Beads of blood weeping from an open wound. It was your thighs again, somewhere you kept hidden. It brought you shame but it gave you a release. A release you sorely needed after today. Your eyes were puffy, you had been crying on and off since you came home.

His heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces, smaller than the razor blade you had tried to conceal when he busted the door in. Spike liked you, it started small but quickly gained traction as he got to know you. At least, got to know the you that you presented in front of your friends. Not to say you were lying, but when you lived in Sunnydale you felt that your own thoughts and destructive behaviour wasn’t half as important as the blood-sucking fiends or demons that wanted to kill everyone. So you had neglected to mention your coping mechanism to anyone.

Spike had been outside your house, willing himself to knock on the door after he finished this last cigarette. To check on you, not realising how badly you needed it. You had invited him in before (a day he cherished in his memory).

His first response was anger. How could you do this? He shouted in confusion, took the blades from you. Ran a hand through his hair. Jaw tensing, eyes wild. He took you by the shoulders, as if he wanted to shake you out of it.

Then came upset. His eyes shone and he caressed your face. He apologised for shouting as you collapsed into his arms, he stroked your head, whispering how he would take care of you. How you needed to be with him, not alone like this.

Then were the questions as he cleaned your cuts. Fought with your bathroom cabinet and cupboards to find plasters. You bought heavy-duty ones as a precaution so he found them and started to take care of you. The shame further bubbling to the surface as you decided to be honest about it. For possibly the first time. Your hidden coping mechanism laid bare before him as your open wounds were.

Being caught was more embarrassing than hiding it, you found. Evading people and coming up with obscure excuses as to why you had a cut here or a wince there when the wounds rubbed against your clothing. Your words came out thick, shame making your voice catch and it made your blood run cold the way he nodded at your words. So much care in his touch. Care you didn’t feel you deserved.

“Why?” He asked, eyes searching your face as if you had some exact pinpointed answer. Some easy line that would make it all make sense.

“It’s really nothing, Spike” You mutter, trying to make yourself very small, as if you could disappear from his probing eyes. His gentle hands. His care. His care made you cringe, because you were making him feel bad. You made him worry. You could tell he was worrying, because his brow had never been so furrowed.

“This is not nothing, pet. I’ve seen some things, but this-” He was concerned. Anxious to take this urge from you, to absorb it as his own trait instead.

“It’s just to cope, Spike. Like you drink-” You tried to deflect back onto him, but he wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head, stopping your explanation.

He crouched in front of you, taking your hands in his. Hands that had inflicted so much violence on yourself. So much pain that he couldn’t even fathom how you were calm now. Explaining yourself further. Talking about it as if it was as normal as brushing your teeth.

“Let me help you? Please, love... you’re breaking my heart” He admitted, trying to get you to look him in the eye. You couldn’t, your eyes anywhere but his pained gaze.

“I’m… sorry” The words came out blunt, more blunt than you had intended. The sincerity of your intentions now lost in the air between you. He didn’t mind, he just wanted you to be okay.

“If you need anything or if I can do anything for you… I hate to see you in pain”

“You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to take pity on me just because you’ve seen w-what I do” You said, an edge to your voice as if you had turned the blade towards his own flesh, not entirely sure if you believed that was his intention. You were mad at yourself. At him for being so concerned. But you couldn’t hate him. You could never do that. Your feelings were mixed, the shame and strange release from what you had done mixing as your words hit a nerve.

“It’s not fucking pity! I love you, y/n!” he raised his voice, standing up above you, voice cracking, arms flailing until he realised what he had said. What he had shouted in your face. His voice went quiet, “I can’t see you like this…” his voice dropped, softer. You didn’t know what to make of it. What to say to it. You had feelings for him, but you didn’t want to inflict yourself on him. Not the way you were now. Maybe one day. If you ever changed.

But Spike didn’t see you like that, your friends didn’t see you like that. You weren’t the burden you thought you were. You weren’t even hiding your destructive behaviour as well as you thought you were. Everyone was trying their best to look out for you where they could, Spike had been the only oblivious one. He knew there was something, some secret you were hiding. Avoiding the others when they asked, but he never would have guessed something like this. It didn’t stop his love for you, though. Nothing could ever do that.

He had been watching you, idealising you. Not seeing the reality. And now he was kicking himself. He wished he had noticed it sooner but he had been intensely imagining holding you, kissing you. Even telling you he loved you in some romantic way. Buying you gifts, showing you his love.

But he hadn’t managed to see this. He loved you more for it, for letting him know. For explaining yourself. He couldn’t be put off you, it made him want to become closer with you. He wanted to be the balm that soothed your cuts. The plaster that could protect you. Most importantly, the diary you could confide in.

Now you knew how he felt, there was a strangled, guilty note of hope buzzing into your ears. Pumping around your body at his raw admittance. You couldn’t help the worry tugging at your brain that told you he was only telling you this because of what he had seen. But you had to hope, had to believe he meant it.

“I-I love you too” You found yourself saying as you watched his own inner-turmoil cease before you. He had been waiting for your reaction, scared you would shout or berate him for his feelings or the way he had told you. Neither of you were perfect, you were destructive in your own ways but you couldn’t deny the care for each other.

You couldn’t promise him things would change. That you would be be able to stop overnight. But you could promise to talk to him. Help him understand and hope to understand him in return.

[himbowelsh]

If you want to, 9 or 19 with webgott? I hope you have a wonderful week 💕

i’ve got another prompt for #19, so how about #9?

sha-la-la-la my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy  💋 (accepting!)  9.  one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other 

The stars are brighter tonight than any other time in recent memory... and it’s not like Austrian skies aren’t impressive as a rule. The nights shine brighter in the countryside than they ever did over the bustle of New York City. No matter how many times he sees the skies alight, David will never get used to it. Something divine shimmers in each blinking star, something earnest and mythical in the constellations strewn like New Years’ confetti across the sky. He is not a spiritual man, but Austrian nights make him feel like he could be, maybe.

Tonight, the sky is putting in extra effort. Each star feels like a beacon, calling him away from war and mourning. One of them, he muses, might be Janovec. 

He spun off the road just that morning, with little warning and no fanfare. One second, he was alive. The next... the war had claimed him too, and he didn’t even have a bullet wound to show for it.

The men who died on D-Day were heroes. David saw them drown in waist-deep swamps... gurgle to death on blood and bullets... strangled by their own risers and left hanging from trees like Halloween decorations. Heroic deaths, all of them, and their parents must claim some sense of pride in knowing their sons lives ended, not in agony and fear, but in resolute patriotism.

American heroes still sob for their mothers in their last moments. David still hears their screams.

Isn’t it such a privilege to die for one’s country?

Janovec didn’t even get that. He wasn’t taken out by enemy gunfire — only it was an American Jeep, and an enemy tree. Hoobler didn’t die in the heat of battle. His killer was a German pistol, but an American hand. Van Klinken caught machine gun fire, but he bled to death on Dutch soil, with Dutch dirt in his mouth and Dutch ash mixing with his tears.

Will they be called heroes, now that the fighting is done?

Austrian summer is warm, but there’s always a chill this high up. It bites at David’s exposed skin. He draws himself up a bit tighter, knees pulling close to his chest. There’s no real danger of overbalancing. The street may be a dizzying distance below, but this part of the rooftop is steady and nearly flat. He’d never have climbed out otherwise. David is not in the business of risking his own life unnecessarily. He fought a war, which ought to be enough; he’s got no intention of dying now that it’s done.

(Done for some, in limbo for others. In a few months, will they all be speaking Japanese?)

It’s chilly up here, but quiet, and perfectly dark — exactly what he was looking for. The sky sprawls above him, endless and alive with constellations. Each one welcomes him, calls out to him, tugs at the exposed threads of his soul. There, glistening brightly off to the right — is that Janovec? There, the one with the steady glow — Hoobler? Or maybe it’s Jackson — maybe those twin stars, glittering playfully side by side, are Muck and Penkala. Maybe there’s a place in the sky for more — hundreds, thousands, him —

“You gotta be kidding me.”

The unexpected voice jars him, like waking from a deep sleep. David flails. If the roof were any more perilous, he’d have certainly gone over the edge — but if this occurs to the intruder clambering out the rooftop window, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Of all the places — ow, fuck —“ Joe Liebgott smacks his head against the top of the frame. He’s too lanky; on the ground, he carries his long limbs with the grace of a feline, but he clearly wasn’t made for cat burglary. David sucks his lip, determined not to laugh, as Joe awkwardly forces his too-big body through the opening. “Of all the places to get yourself killed, Web, you know how to pick ‘em.”

“Figured it would have happened by now, in some way or another,” he replies with an easy shrug. “Why wait for anyone’s help?”

Joe says nothing — unless another muffled curse as his foot gets caught on the frame counts. By the time he manages to haul himself out onto the rooftop, he’s got a tear in his shirt sleeve, and multiple bruises to show for the effort. Never mind the fact that David didn’t invite him, or tell him where he was going; Joe still huffs at him as if it’s somehow his fault.

“People who can’t climb out windows typically shouldn’t,” is all David has to say on the subject.

“If they were made to be climbed out of, they’d be bigger.” Joe inches forward on his hands and knees, peering over the ledge with his typical morbid curiosity. A low whistle echoes through the quiet night. With a sigh, David settles back in his comfortable spot, watching the interloper warily. He doesn’t know why Joe’s here. Nevermind what he wants — he’s never been able to figure that out, and they’ve known each other for nearly a year now.

Instead of explaining himself, as he can usually be relied on to do, Joe goes quiet. It’s... somehow worse than chatter. Silence is heavy, like a lead blanket draped over their shoulders, weighing them both down. It feels more intimate, somehow. There’s not much space on this rooftop, only a few feet of distance between them, but the longer the quiet stretches on the more that distance shrinks to inches.

If only he’d brought cigarettes — that’s something to share, and a good excuse for sitting alone at night. As it is, if Joe asks what he’s doing out here... David doesn’t know what he’d say.

Joe isn’t paying attention to him, though. His gaze, too, is trained on the sky. No one can escape it tonight.

Unexpected, unbidden, Joe breaks the silence. “You ever think about what’s up there?”

David tenses. Too close to home. “I mean... sure. Sometimes. I guess... lots of gasses, and dust particles, water vapor... and that’s just in our atmosphere.”

Joe casts him a glance that’s half-annoyed, in the way that isn’t really annoyed at all. David hates how  accustomed he’s grown to all those outspoken looks. “You know what I mean,” Joe says — and David says nothing, because he does.

“I used to... think there had to be something up there. Not really people, y’know? My Mom, she tried to raise us the right way — when our pet hamster died, she told us about immortal souls, olam haba, everything that’s supposed to come after. Except I never really...” He gestures for a minute, snapping his fingers like the words elude him. “Got it. My Mom will give you her opinion on anything, but even she can’t say for sure what happens when you die. It was all too hazy for me as a kid. I didn’t know what to look for, or... what it meant.”

David tries to understand. He comes up short, in ways he can’t identify but is painfully aware of. Even so, he tries.

“My mother’s family was Protestant. She used to say there were angels watching over us all the time.” His nose crinkles. “Just to get me to eat my Brussels sprouts, I think. The angels saw me feed them to the dog.”

Joe laughs, sound sharp as a knife in the gentle night. David can’t say why he’s pleased.

“Exactly, though. You Christians pretend to have it all figured out. God’s up there, he’s watching everything, and when your time’s up you’ll either go upstairs or downstairs.” His lips purse, the way they do when he’s trying and failing not to grin. “Jews are still arguing about how many heavens there are.”

“What do you think?” He asks the question before he means to, without really thinking. As soon as it’s out, David regrets it... but Joe doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Aliens. Real ‘War of The Worlds’ type shit.” Finally, he allows himself to grin, and it only widens as he keeps talking. “Like to think Flash Gordon’s saving the universe up there somewhere. Maybe Superman too, but he’s kind of a chump. Probably some planets we ain’t found yet, suns and moons we ain’t seen.” He’s hesitates. “But I think I like that other idea now... that maybe there are people up there. Maybe there is something... something real after.”

He falls quiet. His hands are braced in front of him, taut as straining metal. David studies them, and doesn’t dare look at Joe.

“How many stars d’you think there are, Web?” Joe asks after a moment.

David has no damned clue. “A lot,” he answers confidently. “Millions.”

“Millions,” echoes Joe. The glittering stars are reflected in his eyes, like black pits sending each beam of light back outward. It’s almost hypnotizing, the way they flicker. If he stares too long, David knows he will get lost in them, so he forcibly tears himself away. Wherever Joe’s mind is going, he can’t — possibly shouldn’t — follow.

Guessing isn’t safe. Wondering isn’t safe. Seeking insight into Joe Liebgott’s mind, when it’s so… enigmatic to Webster’s own has never been, and will never be, safe.

The acrid smell of tobacco startles him. When he looks back over, Joe has lit up a cigarette, and is blowing a long cloud of smoke against the black sky.

“No, really, I’m fine. Thanks for offering,” David drawls, inching closer. Joe’s eyes flicker towards him; his mouth curls up around the cigarette. 

“Only got this one left, Web. If I had one to offer, you know I would.” He clicks his tongue. “I’m generous like that.”

“A modern day Santa Claus, huh?”

“Ho ho,” Joe replies.

David reaches for the cigarette. He doesn’t know why — it’s not like he really wants a smoke — but the idea of doing nothing, of letting silence linger between them as they both stew in their own thoughts, is worse. Also, if Joe gets a bit of relief via Lucky Strike, he’s got no right to hoard it. Determined, David leans forward, even as Joe angles away from him.

“Yeah, no, nice try.”

“Share! You — quit moving, we’re going to fall off the roof.”

“You’ll fall, and I won’t catch you.”

“I’ll drag you down with me!”

He catches the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, and deftly plucks it from Joe’s grasp. Victorious, David brandishes it high, letting a thin stream of smoke blaze into the night. Over the chorus of Joe’s curses, he takes a drag. It goes too deep into his lungs, too quickly; he ends up sputtering, lurching forward in a chest-rattling burst of coughs. His grip on the cigarette goes loose, and it falls from his hand.

“Shit, Web!”

David is too preoccupied with his lungs turning themselves inside-out to pay attention to Joe… until a hand finds his back, rubbing steady curves between his shoulder blades. He sputters, but Joe is there, coaching him through it, until he’s finally able to take a breath without gagging.

“Oh boy,” he mutters. “Oh god.” Then, realizing Joe’s last cigarette has fumbled straight off the roof, to the cobblestones down below, he hisses. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t bother.” Joe is still rubbing his back, even though there’s no need to — really, he’s fine. “I can get more when I need ‘em.”

“No, I’ll — I’ll give you some of mine when we get back inside.” He breaks off with another harsh cough. By the time he’s done, David is spent; only a moment too late does he realize he’s slumped back against Joe’s chest.

The other man doesn’t pull away. Joe supports him, easing David upright and bracing his weight. He handles him like a delicate thing… and from Joe Liebgott, who David has never known to be delicate in his life, the treatment is jarring. David looks up at him, gaze pulled as though caught in a magnetic current; he finds Joe staring back. His eyes are dark as ever, still lit with starlight. His lips are wet.

“You okay?” Joe asks.

“Yeah. Fine,” David replies.

“I ain’t mad, Web,” he says, “but I would’ve liked a little more of that smoke before you tried to eat it.”

“I got enough of it to share.”

David’s not sure what the hell he's saying. It doesn’t matter. Joe’s lips twitch.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His head tilts. David’s eyes close. A second later, Joe’s mouth is on his, warm and tender, and he couldn’t exhale even if he remembered how.

Maybe David’s the first one to cup Joe’s face; maybe Joe’s hand is the first to find his hair; maybe they're twined together for hours, or only a few precious seconds. When they break apart, none of it matters. Joe’s eyes are wide, pitch black. Surely his incredulity must be reflected back in David’s own face, because right now, his heart wants to pound out of his chest.

Joe’s hand is still on his face. He only realizes this when a rough-padded thumb caresses his cheekbone, unspeakably tender. “You okay, Web?” Joe asks again.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice shuddering. “Incredible.”

He’s not sure who moves forward then — it’s probably both of them at once, seizing that impossible instinct driven only by heat and instinct. Everywhere Joe’s skin brushes against his, his nerves explode into an electric shower; his mouth is hot and needy, consuming David’s as soon as they find each other again. Joe draws him in like he’s the only thing left that matters, and David is helpless in his desire to give himself up.

Please, he thinks desperately, kiss me like I matter. Kiss me like we’re both alive, and going to stay that way. Kiss me like the stars aren’t watching, and we’ll live forever.

Joe’s lips are a fantasy, and they thoroughly carry him away. For a moment, he lets himself go. Nothing matters but the pressure of Joe’s lips, sucking dark bruises along his jaw, or the determined hands that grasp at his shoulders. In the heat battle, you learn to zero your focus in on one thing, and that concentration keeps you alive. This is a different heat, a different ear waging between them, but David gives every ounce of attention to Joe all the same. He drives him forward, keeps them moving even when their hearts are beating out an urgent symphony in twin ribcages, and David’s is ready to burst.

“Joe —“ He gasps, over the sound of the other man’s harsh breathing. Joe shushes him, fingers brushing his swollen lips. David leans into the touch. Joe leans back to accommodate him. They both lean too far.

“Shit!”

For a second, it’s blind terror — the ground sliding away beneath them, fumbling for a hand of foothold as the ledge looms closer… 

David catches them both, his heels catching on a gutter and halting his descent. Joe’s still holding onto him, so the momentum carries over. They’re dangerously far down the inclined roof; a certain broken back looks twenty feet below, the ledge within spitting distance. They don’t go over, though, and that makes the difference.

After a moment, Joe exhales a great, shuddering breath. One hand runs through his hair. “Fuck. Jesus fuck. Just lost two decades off my life.”

“Better than losing it all,” David mutters. He’s determined not to look over the ledge. Unconsciously, his grip tightens around Joe; he doesn’t realize Joe’s holding him just as fast until a small tug pulls him back from the roof.

“Come on,” Joe mutters. “Let’s get the hell outta here before we both end up weird stains on the ground.”

He doesn’t need to tell him twice. David casts one last look up at the night sky — serene, twinkling like it knows a secret but doesn’t dare say — before huffing, and clambering up in Joe’s wake.

Existential questions can wait until morning. Joe, on the other hand, has never been good at waiting.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Fairest of them all (final)

The man that approached you had short white hair and and red pupils that stood out against the black Scelra.

"Who... Who are you?" You asked in horror as you backed away from the tall man dressed in black. He gave you no response as he charged towards you with a dagger in hand. You tried to run but the tall male out sped you with ease and tackled you to the ground.

You trashed in his grasp and screamed out in hopes that someone would hear you but he quickly covered your mouth with one hand and he brought down his dagger which he jammed into the ground.

"I can't do it" he muttered in a deep voice as you felt him brush his hand over your face, his blood clinging to your skin.

"You must run away from this kingdom. Never return, don't even look back... He will only seek to-" the males muttered warning were soon cut off by him groaning out in pain, his blood now staining your clothes as he was stabbed by the ravenette male you had met last night. Yet rather then believe that he was trying to save you, you believed that may have also desire to kill you. The gleam of his sword made you panic.

You took the strangers words as you pushed him off and ran deeper into the dark forest. No matter how many times Bruno called out your name you wouldn't respond. As you ran deeper and deeper the males voice faded into nothing more then an echo but even so you were still being watched by Diavolo through his enchanted mirror. He let out a hiss in anger as he slammed his fist into the stone wall. He thought that surely a cold and cruel man like Risotto Nero could have done the job without a second thought but it seemed that even such a man still had a heart.

"Why must I always have to be the bad guy!" He growled.

"Well the only one that should be trusted is yourself" the man in the mirror mockingly said.

"Except me... But I'm trapped in this mirror, however if you were to break this seal with a human sacrifice I'll scar her to your heart's content" the man continued with a mischievous smirk.

"I'm not a fool Illusio , I've already sold my soul to hell by just entertaining your cursed soul, releasing a powerful demon like you would surely be the highlight of my epitaph" Diavolo sneered.

"Fine have it your way, just know my offer is always open" Illusio grinned as he knew that the king would surely break at one point, even while trapped in the mirror the demon still could madden all those who looked a little to long in his mirror.

🍎🍎🍎

Eventually within the dark forest you found a small little cottage. With the door unlocked you entered, hoping whoever resided wouldn't mind you entering.

Inside the house was dusty and grimy, cobwebs strung up in every corner. Yet you still saw little signs that the cottage was not abandoned, plates had been washed and left to dry. You decided that you would tidy up a little to show whoever lived here that you were not up to mischief.

The day seemed to go by in a few hours as you swept the floors dusted the shelves and wiped the windows. By the end you were so tired that you fell asleep on one of the seven small beds.

🍎🍎🍎

Diavolo looked down with burning hatred at the bloodied huntsman who had been captured by his guards.

"I thought I could of trusted you to get the job done" he hissed.

"I told you, I was attacked by suprise... Can you not see my wounds?" Risotto hissed.

"You had no intention of killing her, I saw it all... You told her to run away!" Diavolo yelled causing the male to flinch.

"Risotto Nero, your days of being a huntsman are over because I'll have your decapitated head on a spike!" He roared as his guards dragged the huntsman back to his cell to wait for his impending doom.

"The same goes for Bruno Bucciallati, I'll burn his kingdom to ashes!" He said as he looked at his general.

"Get my army ready for war!" He ordered but his general gave him a nod in disapproval.

"I'm afraid that can't happen, our military sustained thousands of casualties... if we head into war now we will certainly lose" he explained.

"Fine then, begin a lottery of all the young men in my kingdom and have the chosen sent into training" Diavolo hissed before leaving the throne room to check the mirror once more to see where you were.

"Back so soon... you give that girl to much attention" Illusio greater with a small chuckle.

"Where is she?" Diavolo asked.

"She's still in the forest, sleeping inside the cottage of seven old dwarfs" he explained before the mirror showed your sleeping form in a recently cleaned room, your body covered in dirt, dust and blood.

An idea popped into the male's mind, surely after a few days of house labour your skin would become rough and cracked.

"I'll leave her be, her beauty will wither away in days cleaning" he said.

However the male was wrong and your beauty did not fade, nor did you grow tired of helping the seven dwarfs.

Diavolo looked in the mirror once more like he usually did but he screamed out in horror as he felt a tap on his shoulder, the black haired devil was right behind him in the flesh, or as his delusions made it seem.

"How did you-!"

"Just look at the table" the demon ordered. The king complied and saw a cloak as red as blood and a hair comb made entirely of gold.

"The crimson cloak has the power to change the wearer's appearance and despite how pretty the golden comb may be it's not very practical... It will rip and fray even the most silky of hair" Illusio explained before his form disappeared.

"At what cost?" Was all the king could ask.

"Nothing"

🍎🍎🍎

You said your farewells to each of the seven dwarfs as you handed them a bag of baked goods you had prepared for their long day in the mines. Over the past few days the sparkle in your eyes had returned and you found a true sense of happiness in your soul. No longer did you have to live in fear and lies. The dwarfs had taught you that beauty was not what mattered in the world. You had kind soul, you did good and expected nothing in return.

Shortly after you made your way out of the dark forest and into a unfamiliar kingdom to grab a few things from the market. You were looking at the various fruit and vegetables when you heard a familiar voice call out your name. You looked behind and saw the ravenette prince approaching you. You stepped back and into a man which you apologized to before trying to run but the prince grabbed your wrist.

"I'm so glad you're alright dear (Y/n)" he said in a tone full of relief.

"Let go of me" you growled, trying not to attract any attention.

"I'm sorry if I scared you but I had to do it... He would of killed you if I didn't" he explained.

"He was trying to save me, he warned me about someone in the kingdom!" You hissed.

"The king (Y/n), he ordered that man to kill you!" Bruno nearly yelled in desperation.

"You need to stay with me, that way he won't be able to hurt you" he explained.

"No I'm fine" you responded as you pulled his hand off of you.

"(Y/n), do you not understand all the cruel thing he did to you?"

"I do, but I don't want to live with royalty... I found a place where I'm just me without the titles and expectations" you explained.

"And I can give you the same thing-"

"You barely even know me!" You yelled before running away from him once more.

🍎🍎🍎

Diavolo hissed as he looked at his new appearance in a small hand mirror. Short pink hair, hazel eyes and a smaller form with a freckled face. He looked like a child and he absolutely hated it but he had to overcome his disgust if his plan was to work. He knew you were somewhere in the dark woods, it was only a matter of finding you and that was sooner then he expected as you practically ran straight into him.

"Oh I'm so sorry sir" you said as you helped the boy in the red cloak up.

"No it's alright" he said only to realise that even his voice had changed.

"As a matter of fact I've been looking for you" he said.

"Oh what for?" you asked with a sense of curiosity which wanted to make the king to pounce on you, cut you up, nearly strangle the life out of you. The gleam in your eyes showed him that all his hard work of manipulating you to be his perfect wife was crumbling in the span of a week.

"My mother wanted me to give this to you" he said as he held out the golden comb.

"Oh I couldn't take such a thing... It seems too valuable" you replied as you tried to push the gift back to him.

"No you must! My mother is gravely ill and she wants it to be given to you" he lied pushing it back to you.

"Please take it for my mother" he plead.

"Alright" you sighed as you finally took the gift.

"Just tell your mother I hope she gets better" you said as you gave the boy a sincere smile.

"What is your name by the way?" You asked which caught him of guard.

"Doppio, Doppio Vinegar" he responded.

"Well I wish you the best Doppio" you said as you waved him goodbye.

🍎🍎🍎

To the king's displeasure he found out after another week you had never used the comb to brush your hair but instead used it as a means to help prayer to the sick mother who never existed. This sent the king into a fit of rage, he didn't even notice the room twist and distort into a autumn forest.

"You know Diavolo... she's never going to truely love you..."

"All your effort has come crumbling down" Illusio said, his words becoming the king's own thoughts. The king was losing his sanity.

"And if you can't have her then no one will" he said and Diavolo muttered the same thing after.

The king finally looked at the demon who sat on a tall tree made entirely of gold. It shed all of it's leaves and flowers of diamonds grew before producing golden apples, one of which fell right into the king's hands.

"An apple of gold may look appetizing but don't let it's mystical appearance fool you... It is very poisonous, a single bite is enough to kill" he explained with a smile as he looked down at Diavolo.

"What is the exchange?" Diavolo asked, knowing a demon offer was never truely free, eventually there would be a price to pay.

"Your soul will never go to heaven, nor hell... Your soul will be trapped in purgatory" the demon responded.

In a sane state Diavolo would refuse but as the voices grew louder in his head, the thought of any other option to kill you was out the window.

"I'll do it" the male responded as he wore wicked smile. With not a second to spare the male left the room, on his hellbent mission to kill you.

🍎🍎🍎

You were picking apples when Doppio came to see you again. This time he didn't seem right. He was muttering incoherent words under his breath until he noticed you.

Maybe something had happened to his mother, but you wouldn't dare saw just incase it would hurt him.

"Hello Doppio" you created the make while holding a basket of apples.

"Oh (Y/n), I have something I'd like to give you" the male said as he pulled out a shiny golden apple, you could see your own reflection on it's surface.

"A golden apple!" You exclaimed in suprise.

"Yes, and they say that whoever bites into the Apple has there wish come true" the boy eagerly explained as he pushed it towards you.

"No I couldn't, surely you have a wish you want granted" you replied as you gave it back to him. His hazel eyes turned a familiar green.

"No, I want you to have it" he said as he put it back in your hands, his voice almost demanding.

"But isn't your mother sick?" You asked which caused the boy to cackle as he took his red cloak off, revealing that he was the king. You gasped as you looked up at him in horror. The male grabbed you before you even had the chance to run.

"My dear... I'm so sorry, I now see the error of my ways" he said as he clung onto you desperately, you had never seen him like this.

"I understand that I can't make you love me... I'll leave you be... Just please accept the apple as my apology, you can wish for whatever you desire" he said in such a desperate tone.

Gullible little you fell for the males deceitful lies and thought he really had learnt his lesson, so you took a bite from the apple and made a merciful wish for him.

'I wish that Diavolo's heart becomes one that is pure and kind' you mentally wished.

Soon you began to cough and splutter, dropping the apple and holding your throat as you looked as the crazed king. You realised now that it was all a facade but it was to late. Within a few minutes your limp body fell to the ground.

Diavolo tried to grab your body but a yell from the distance spooked the maddened king away, leaving your body where it laid.

Bruno's heart sink, just as he had finally found you again you had been murdered right Infront of him. Tears shed down his face. He held your body and cried until the dwarfs returned to the shock of your death.

The dwarfs saw how saddened the young prince was and offered to build a coffin of glass for your body so the prince could lay you to rest. In a few days the coffin had been made and you were prepared for display in the castle. However it didn't take long for the news to reach Diavolo, even in death you were still seen as beautiful, so beautiful infact that your corpse was on display in Bruno's castle.

It made the king livid. He traveled lone to Bruno's kingdom eager to snatch you body and bring it back with him. In the dead of night he entered the castle and searched until he came across a room enveloped in the moon's light where only a glass coffin was displayed. He slowly approached, he couldn't help but marvel at you.

"I knew you'd come Diavolo, all that I ask is one question... Why did you kill her?" Bruno asked as he made himself known.

"Because of the likes of you worms! I wanted her to myself but every man that saw her believed that she was theirs!" The king yelled in anger as he grabbed a dagger out and charged at Bruno but Bruno dodged and kicked Diavolo back, causing him to lose his footing and smash right through the glass of the coffin. The force of his head slamming on your chest caused the piece of the apple that you had choked on to dislodge and to be coughed out.

The king realised that you hadn't actually ate the apple and by some miraculous means you had just been in a death like state. He muttered incoherent sentences in joy but his insane blabbering was cut short as Bruno stabbed the male, unaware of the fact that you were alive.

Despite on stab wound being enough the prince continued to stab Diavolo over and over again muttering curses and words of hate to the man who had killed the fairest of them all, the males white suit drenched in the blood of the crimson king. He only noticed your breathing after he finally stood up. He felt his heart almost explode with joy. It was a miracle. He threw himself into your form and kissed you. Your eyes fluttered open to see the bloodied prince.

"What happened?" You nearly screamed.

"The king made you eat a cursed apple... He tried to abduct you from here" the male explained.

"Cursed?" You asked in confusion.

"Yes, he told me that the only way to break it was a true love's kiss" he lied as he brushed the stray hairs out of your face.

"True love's kiss..." you muttered, you were taken back by what he told you.

"If you kissed me that means-"

"Yes my dear, I am you true love and you are mine" he softly cooed before kissing you once more. You believed Bruno, there was no other explanation.

You married him believing his lies and in a way Bruno had become no difference to you last last lover that he had slaughtered.

[lenalikesboots]

Bootleg Review n°1

So I watched this bootleg video yesterday and I must say...I’m impressed,

From what I know, this is the oldest video out there of the West End production of Love Never Dies. It’s completely pre-changes - it uses the soundtrack from the original album.

The leads are played by  Ramin Karimloo (as Erik), Sierra Boggess (as Christine), Joseph Millson (as Raoul), Summer Strallen (as Meg), Liz Robertson (As Mme. Giry), Richard Linnell (as Gustav)

What really bothered me at first is that it’s missing about 25 minutes from Act 1. Everything in between Till I Hear You Sing and Mother Please I’m Scared is missing. The bootleg is otherwise complete. There is some washout in bright lights and the camera strays at times from the action, and there’s a  bar that blocks some of the actors, but otherwise, this is a very a decent bootleg. 

I liked seeing the scenes that they cut off in the Australian production. I thought it was interesting. 

The Coney Island Walz is instrumental only, and it serves as kind of an Overture thing, in which, just like in Phantom, they take you back in time and set the whole setting of the show.

It goes all the way back to opening night of Phantasma. 

In the beginning, there are people chattering about the new amusement park, wanting to go in. 

After that, we get to see the whole only-for-him; only-for-you thing, which I thought was cool.

Also- Although I do think that it’s possible Meg has developed the hots for Erik,this Meg seems to just want a promotion. She’s in love with her career, not with her boss. I genuinely like that!

In Summer’s portrayal, Meg seems to be giving 110%, and wants nothing more than to be noticed and have her work appreciated. Of course it’s a blow for her when her mother told her that her boss didn’t care enough to show up. It’d be a blow for anyone, really, because it means your work is alright, but still not outstanding. What’s next, he doesn’t even know her name? Calls her Meghan, instead of Meg? 

Anyways- it’s safe to say, I like Summer’s portrayal of Meg a lot!

Next we move on to Till I Hear You Sing! I absolutely loved the way Ramin sang it for this performance!

It was absolutely breathtaking!

I’ve had chills so many times listening to him sing it, like damn!

Unfortunately, the recording stops right after that and picks back up at Mother Please I’m Scared, where it’s really mostly audio and you can’t really see a thing. 

I must say, I liked this Dear Old Friend! I liked how this time, Meg didn’t sound judgemental of the fact that Christine stopped singing to become a full-time wife and mother.

And I liked how instead of sounding bitter, Meg sounds rather confused when Christine said she was going to sing. 

Moving on- in the middle of Dear Old Friend, Gustav runs off. 

Obviously, he goes to see Erik. 

And here we come to the first thing I didn[’t like about the show: Ramin’s Erik is really cold and mean towards Gustav in this performance particularly. I know that it’s only because he believes him to be Raoul’s son but come on- even if Raoul were Gustav’s father, it’s not the child’s fault! You can’t choose your own parents goddamn it!

I liked Beauty Underneath...kind of...idk,. I generally don’t like the vibe this song gives me. 

I liked the whole “wow! You and I think the same!” idea, but the way they carried it out was bordering on genuinely creepy.

Next up! Erik takes his mask off and...fucks everything up. Kid runs away. 

I liked Christine’s reaction to all of this. I liked how she asks Madame Giry to take him away and how she apologises to Erik for her child’s reaction. 

And here we come to another of the things I didn’t like about Ramin’s portrayal of the character...Repeat after me: You do NOT strangle the woman you thought could possibly have bore your child. You. Do. NOT. 

And you do not tighten your grip when she accuses you of abandoning her- especially if you DID abandon her! Dammit Ramin! Why so angry?

Good thing that he releases her- HOWEVER...

Why so angry Ramin??? Damn!!!

Then she tries to kiss him (which I must admit- was out of nowhere) and he pulls away, still looking super angry.

 I get it-he feels awful that not even his own son can accept him the way he is. I get it. 

BUT...why take it all out on Christine?

Poor girl already had to go through enough because of him. 

Moving on: there are a few other things I didn’t like...but this time, I won’t put the blame just on Ramin.

Number one: when he uncovers his face, Christine turns away. Isn’t that kind of contradicting the whole idea behind “This haunted face holds no horror for me now”?

I understand that his face may not be the prettiest sight, and I understand that she was kinda shocked-after all she hasn’t seen it in 10,almost 11 years. Buuuut she didn’t have to full on turn away.. I thought that directing/acting choice was a little over the top. 

And number two: after Christine leaves, Erik is left all alone to think about what just happens. He seems to be a really proud dad at first...but then there is one line that really threw me off, considering what happens in the next act. “If it’s true, I’ve no reason to live” 

Uhm...dude?? If you’re planning to kill yourself, why the hell would you make a bet, which would be forcing your baby-mama and your kid to stay in America if you’d win it (and you already know you will) ?

And if he suddenly had a change of heart before that, why didn’t we get to see any of that happen? What motivated him? What made him change his mind?

Did Christine maybe ask him to make that bet? It wouldn’t be a surprise if she did....

And I am not saying this to hate on Raoul! I absolutely love Raoul and pity him greatly in Love Never Dies. He’s not an abusive monster. He’s sick! Not only is he suffering from an addiction, but he also seems to be suffering from depression.

He blames himself for all of Christine’s suffering- although, he had nothing to do with it. It all goes back to Erik leaving her, creating a vicious cycle. Christine then marries Raoul just so she wouldn’t be shunned for having a child out of wedlock. She’s obviously unhappy in her marriage, which ends up making Raoul unhappy, so he ends up drinking his sorrows away. In the end, he blames himself for the fact that Christine is unhappy. 

This is what I got from Why Does She Love Me?

Quite obviously, she doesn’t. 

He thinks she does, because she says so, but she is obviously unhappy in her marriage because she doesn’t. However, Raoul takes her sadness to mean that he is the one who is not good enough. He is the one making her unhappy. He is the one unworthy of love.

It breaks my heart that after everything he’s done for her, he ended up feeling so damn bad about himself. None of this is his fault.

 Then, in walks our second unappreciated character: Meg. There are a lot of parallels in between these two. I feel like they’re both going through the same pain, although in very different ways. 

When I watched LND for the first time, I thought this would be the start of a brand new love story, one that would steal the show, and inevitably, our hearts.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. 

When Meg leaves, Raoul starts talking shit about Erik, only for him to end up showing up behind the bar. Talk of the devil, they say...

Over all, I think this scene is a really funny one- probably a fun one to rehearse and perform as well. 

But the whole idea behind it...Guys, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but...Christine is a human being..She’s not property...Let her make her own damn choices for once, she never ever got to do that in her life. 

I hate how Erik starts objectifying Christine in Love Never Dies. He didn’t do it in the original, why start now?

Moving on to the next day:

Bathing Beauty is so damn catchy! Like damn!!

I love how Meg arrives in a hot air balloon. 

I liked this randition of Summer’s Bathing Beauty. I couldn’t see much of it and I couldn’t see the bathing suits either, but the whole scene was really nice. 

I felt so bad for Meg in the next scene though!

Madame Giry was waaay too harsh with her. 

Next scene is Christine’s dressing room scene.

I love how conflicted and anguished Sierra portrays her to be. And I love the contrast between the way she acts around Raoul and the way she acts around Erik. Around Raoul, she’s really sweet, like a good wife should be and she is also quite affectionate. 

But around Erik...

I think this picture speaks for itself...

By the way: The way she doesn’t question why Raoul asked her not to sing, and the way she gets all conflicted later, makes me think that she knows about the bet, but is starting to have second thoughts about it. Which is completely understandable. As a wife, her first priority is her marriage, which they could, possibly work out.

And as a mother, she has to put her son and what would be best for him first too. She can’t just force him to accept a new guy as his father- even if he is indeed his biological father. So all that anguish she’s feeling? Completely understandable. 

You can see from her body language, even when she’s singing, that she is having second thoughts. That this is really hard for her and that she doesn’t know what to do. There is so much pressure on her, the poor girl is close to breaking down on stage, in front of thousands of people.

But then Raoul leaves...And everything in her body language changes. She becomes more confident, more content with her decision. For once, she put herself first. She realizes that she will finally get to be happy. 

She, Erik and their child...

I love how happy and hopeful she looks in the next scene as well!

It’s sad that they don’t kiss in this scene, but oh well...We move...

Another thing that made me believe that Christine knew about the bet was how unbothered she seemed by the fact that Raoul left. She wasn’t shocked. She knew this was going to happen. She didn’t want it to happen like that, but it did. 

And then when she realizes that Gustav is missing, she nearly gets a heart attack, 

I absolutely LOVE Erik’s reaction to the whole thing! I love how worried and angry he got! See, this is one of those times I do appreciate his anger. 

Moving on to the next scene:

One thing I didn’t like about it was how close Erik got to Meg when he told her “We can’t all be like Christine”.

That line is such a bad thing to say when trying to comfort someone who’s having a mental breakdown...

Meg has been working for him for ten years. She has helped him so damn much, and she doesn’t even get a thank you, or a decent. No, she only ever gets all these dumb vaudeville numbers, making her a showgirl, not a respected performer. 

While Christine, who has only been in town for two days, and hasn’t been performing for a couple of years, immediately gets the aria, the nice dress and the beautiful jewelry. 

And then, he has to point out how perfect she is, in front of Meg, who then, when she just wants to talk back to him, ends up accidentally pulling the trigger. And you can tell this was clearly an accident in this performance. She even runs off to get help, only to later return, probably with a doctor on the way, when Christine is already gone (maybe. nobody checked her pulse or her breathing, and the bullet didn’t hit an important artery. She might still be alive)

I loved Erik and Christine’s last kiss. It was so sweet, so passionate. I love how he kept kissing her even after she let go.

However...I didn’t like the way Ramin portrayed his reaction to her death. I understand that the feeling he was going for was numbness, but it literally ended up looking like he didn’t even care that much. For someone who’s never seen Phantom before (maybe just read the book) , who ends up watching this recording, this is the vibe you would get from it. 

I love the fact that Meg came back and that she is holding Christine’s body. You can tell just how sorry she is. 

I loved the whole unmasking scene. I loved how Erik slowly started opening up to Gustav, when he was finally ready to accept him. And I loved the hug in the end.

And I must say: Erik is getting better at hugging. That’s good!

All in all: I really liked this recording of the show. 

If I were to grade it, I’d give it a 7,5/10.

 Before I end this post, can we please appreciate just how gorgeous that dress is? Like damn!!!

Sierra looks absolutely stunning in it as well!

(When does she not look stunning though?)