#Michael Askew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mitsies · 1 year

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-;, the worst ! ; michael kaiser > in which, you discover your boyfriend wears glasses.

“‘michael kaiser’s forehead is so big that you could play multiple games of hangman on it.’”

you’re seated on the couch of your boyfriend’s apartment, scrolling aimlessly through various social media as he trekked the length of the living room behind you. it was a lazy sunday, the kind that was meant to be spent in the company of those you cherished. at your statement, though, you hear the pacing stop. the only sounds remaining are the raindrops kissing the curtained windows.

“excuse me?” you don’t need to be looking at kaiser to know that he’s glowering at you.

“that’s not me. it’s a tweet.”

you turn to the back of the couch, which kaiser moves to lean over, and show him the image displayed on the screen of your device. he’s not paying much attention to that, though. “my forehead is not that big.”

“hey, i never said it was!”

“but you basically just agreed.”

“sorry. it’s just the urge to play hangman on your forehead.”

kaiser purses his lips at you. “you.. want to play hangman.. on my forehead?”

he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, though, as he flourishes a dramatic hand in your face and flounces away. “you’re just like the rest of them, only wanting me for my body.”

you laugh, and a grin creeps onto kaiser’s face as he moves to the end table placed next to the couch. you watch as he pulls open the drawer and removes something shiny and golden- a pair of glasses. he slides them onto his face before plopping down on the couch next to you. “show me the tweet, baby?”

he reaches to grab it but you move away, shifting so you’re facing him. “hold on- hold on. what?”

his brow furrows in the way that makes you want to pinch his cheeks. “what do you mean, ‘what?’”

you don’t give him a response, simply placing your phone down by your side and delicately pulling the glasses off his face. it almost hurts, with how pretty he is even when he’s fully confused by your actions. “i didn’t know you had glasses.”

kaiser’s more bemused than confused now as he watches you examine the frames in your hands. “so you were just so surprised by how gorgeous i look, then?”

“yeah.”

kaiser feels his heart implode in his chest.

“it was a welcome change.”

kaiser’s heart is no longer imploding.

with a gusty sigh, he leans into your side. his jaw rests on your shoulder, and you can feel it when he speaks: “you were being so nice to me 20 minutes ago.”

“20 minutes ago i didn’t want to play hangman on your forehead.”

“so you do want to?”

your only response is a giggle that sends his head spinning in the way that only you have ever seemed to do, and it’s worsened when you slide the glasses onto your own face. he’s infinitely grateful that due to your distorted vision, you weren’t able to see the rosy glow on his face.

“how do i look?”

“god, you’re so fucking cute.”

shifting to face you, his hand moves deftly to push the frames farther up onto the bridge of your nose, and he allows it to linger on the curve of your jaw. the skin of his palm ghosts your cheek, and you allow yourself to lean into kaiser’s touch.

“is this why you set the font size on your phone to the biggest setting? you’re just like my grandma.”

your boyfriend practically recoils and you fight the laughter bubbling in your throat. he coughs in a vain attempt to try and regain his composure but you’re burying your head in his chest in a bout of giggles. his hand finds its way to your hair and he cradles you like precious gemstones.

“i’m taking that as a compliment, actually,” he decides, voice quieter than it was before, “your grandma is cool.”

“of course you’d think that. she adores you.”

“she has wonderful taste.”

“quite the opposite, actually. anyone who likes you has horrible, horrible taste.”

your voice is muffled by the fabric of the white sweater which is askew on his shoulder. your breath is warm on his skin.

“what does that say about you then, baby?”

you let out an exhale that makes him laugh, before replying: “i’ve got it the worst, i think. the worst ever.”

#blue lock x reader #michael kaiser x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #kaiser x reader #kaiser michael x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser michael #blue lock kaiser #reader insert #this used to be 2k words but tumblr deleted it sooo....#im so in love with this man

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genericpuff · 7 months

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You should watch Jack vs. Webtoons video on Lore Olympus before it gets wrongfully taken down.

His video pointed out something I wasn’t able to put into words until now. Lore Olympus has a real bad dialect problem. One second the characters are talking like they’re in a Shakespeare play which makes sense, sense they’re gods or what not. The next second you’ll have characters saying shit like “blue balls” “clout chaser” and “you’ve got a young wife with a fat ass”. It probably wouldn’t bother me if certain people talked a certain way like how Hera doesn’t use any slang and how Hermes uses some but all the characters vocabulary are the exact same.

Honestly I can look past the art and it’s inconsistencies but having dialect jump from regal to tiktok facebook slang makes my brain hurt more than glossy lipped Hades and bug eyed Persephone.

I checked it out, it's pretty great haha and yesss this is something that's been discussed before but I haven't really ever made a post about, the dialogue is CONSTANTLY flip-flopping between royal talk and "hello fellow teens" quipping. Sometimes it feels like it's trying to be like Marvel and then other times it feels like it's trying to be Bridgerton. I can think of no better example than all of the "pedigree" talk, it makes me squirm every time I read it because in the modern context of LO, it SCREAMS eugenics. The whole B-grade goddess thing made sense, until they started talking about Persephone like a poodle:

But then you ALSO get INCREDIBLY stiff dialogue that makes it seem like the comic is either being written by AI or Rachel is actually a real life version of Michael Afton post-scoop:

And yes, there is a tinfoil hat theory that LO is being written by bots at this point because I don't know how a single person could write something so tonally confused. That said, I do think the more reasonable explanation is that Rachel is likely copying dialogue from shows and movies she's watching and just tweaking it slightly before slapping it into LO. She's not observing why the dialogue works in the media she likes, she just knows she likes it and slaps it in there without any regard for context, tone of voice, or personality.

And that leads to, as you said, all the characters sounding the exact same, and that metric by which they all sound the same changes all the time. I think at this point the only reason we haven't seen Hera dropping TikTok language is because she hasn't been onscreen long enough for her to get the chance LMAO That said, we've definitely gotten some weird inconsistent dialogue with Hera as well:

(like she's essentially saying the exact same thing across both of these panels but one is being said by an adult and the other is being said by a teenager lmao)

I think the dialogue is definitely one of the most glaring issues with LO, among all of its other problems. It just never feels like it's being written by a human, there are problems with this even as far back as S1 but it's become especially apparent in S2 onwards.

To finish off this ask, here's one of my favorite dialogue mishaps in the entire series, from S1, in which Apollo literally adopts an askew English accent:

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #ask me anything #antiloreolympus #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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slasherhoe87 · 11 months

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Happy Monday honey𓆩♡𓆪

I was wondering if you could write a drabble of Michael Myers where you're dating him and he doesn't know you're into men with balaclava's, until one day he's on your laptop for something and he comes across your tumblr page that is full of guys with balaclava's on and something crawls into his mind.

Maybe smut and Michael being dominate <3

Thank you angel🥰

No problem Megan ❤. Ok!... I'm doing this one before work because I feel so guilty about not getting around to writing any of my other requests yet 🙈🤦🏼‍♀️ (I will get to them, I promise!)

OG/RZ/Peepaw Michael Myers x f!reader

18+ for graphic smut, con noncon, implied violence

Michael indulges in his s/o's balaclava kink:

You had been enjoying a cup of spiced tea on your worn-in recliner, scrolling through Tumblr on your laptop, simping over art and fanfics of dangerous men in masks and balaclavas.

You had always had a kink for masked men but until now it had only been "standard" horror movie masks, such as Jason's, Ghostface's, Vincent's wax mask, Leatherface's and especially your Michael's expressionless alabaster mask. Only recently had you come to appreciate the simplicity of the humble balaclava - Ghost from Call of Duty was the catalyst of this new attraction and you jumped head first into the rabbit hole of art and fiction of morally grey or downright psychotic men with toned bodies, balaclava'd faces and piercing eyes that burned through you with carnal need right down to your core.

As you took another sip of your tea you felt a presence to your left. Turning your head in that direction you see Michael standing motionless as a statue at the base of the stairs just staring at you. Top half of his overalls off of his torso and tied around his waist, mask slightly askew.

Instead of shrieking and jumping like you used to when you were not so accustomed to his sudden, silent appearances you smiled and got up from your seat.

"Did you have a good sleep, baby?" You ask as you place one hand on his chest and the other on his strong shoulder.

You receive nothing in return except for his blank gaze upon you, those darkened eyeholes of his mask as eerie as ever.

Not detoured by his normal silence and seeming disinterest, you give him a peck on the cheek of his mask and head into the kitchen to make him some lunch from yesterday's leftovers.

You hear the tv switch on as you pull out the ingredients to make a sandwich with the leftover chicken. As you begin slicing the cucumber you pause for a second to see Michael watching true crime again. You always wonder what goes through his mind when he sees the crimes of other killers. Is he impressed, unimpressed, indifferent, intrigued? Does he learn anything? You guess you'll never know unless Michael just one day decides to break his self-imposed silence.

xxxxxxx

Later that night you're turning your little house upside down looking for your laptop. You were so sure you had left it on the coffee table in the living room but... you guess not? You didn't blame Michael as he had never shown interest in the laptop before, and its not like you could ask him now anyhow as he was out butchering people to death. Yes, you are aware at how desensitised you have become to murder and death. Loving Michael forced you to accept his lifestyle - fast.

Huffing in annoyance you stomp over to the door leading to the garage, knowing for a fact it won't be there but its the only place you haven't looked yet. You push open the door and flick on the light, ready to immediately switch it off again because you hadn't been in the garage all day.

However, when your eyes fell onto the workbench, there your laptop sat surrounded by empty candy wrappers.

"Michael... what the hell" you mumble to yourself in confusion. You can't say you were really mad at him for using the laptop because he was more than welcome to. But you were just confused as he had never shown interest in it nor did you think he knew how to use it.

Scooping up all the candy wrappers you chuck them into the trashcan beneath the workbench and try to start up the laptop. You were met with nothing but a black screen. "Damn. Battery's dead"

You looked at the wall clock and decided to just call it a night. No Netflix for y/n tonight - insert sad face.

Closing your laptop you make for the door when you hear glass smashing from what sounded like the kitchen area.

Heart jumping to your throat you quickly flick the light off and hide under the workbench while looking at the door which lead into the living room. Surely Michael wouldn't smash in the back door?! He had a key and had stopped breaking into the house since the two of you started a relationship. That was a whole year ago!

Before you could think anymore, a pair of legs slowly walked past the garage door and into the living room. You couldn't get the clearest view of the intruder as only a small lamp was on in the living room - the rest of the house was dark.

Your panicked mind only presented 3 options for you to take:

1. Get out of the house and run to the neighbors

2. Either stay where you were or get upstairs and hide while waiting for Michael to return.

3. Get to your cellphone upstairs and call the cops.

Well.. the house keys for the front door were upstairs too and you didn't want to run out of the back door as you were barefoot and there was no doubt glass everywhere. You wouldn't get very far at all with cut up feet before the intruder catches you.

And you didn't exactly want the cops anywhere near you and your home for Michael's sake. So that left option 2. You just had to get upstairs... lots of places to hide and wait for Michael. You also come to realise that you absolutely needed to get Michael a cellphone for emergencies like this. A simple text in this situation could save your life. Why didn't you think of that before, stupid!?

Mentally shaking yourself from your delaying thoughts, you take a deep breath as silently as you can and creep towards the door. You sit on your haunches for a moment, straining your ears to listen for any sign of the intruder when you hear some soft movements from the dining room. Perfect. If you move now you'll have a chance to get upstairs without being seen.

As silently and quickly as you can you scuttle to the - thankfully - carpeted stairs. Just as you're about to take the first step you hear a crashing sound coming from the garage which sounded very much like hard plastic hitting a concrete floor. Your laptop. You must not have put it far enough back onto the workbench when you rushed to switch off the light.

You know for your own sanity you shouldn't have, but you did - you looked back to the dining room entrance.

And there staring at you from in the dark, illuminated only by a bit of moonlight stood a tall figure in faded black overalls and a... balaclava??

Shrieking you turn back around and make for your bedroom - intending to lock the door and climb out of your window onto the veranda's roof and to make your escape.

Your hear his heavy footfalls behind you, closer than what you would like as you scramble to the top of the stairs. Fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river.

Michael where are you? I need you! You internally shout as tears begin falling from your wide, frightened eyes.

As you reach the top of the stairs a large, warm, calloused hand grabs your ankle painfully and roughly causing you to yelp. You try to kick at the man with your other foot but he throws his entire weight onto your body causing the air to be knocked out of you.

You cough while hitting at his shoulders and head with all your might but it doesn't seem to affect him at all.

He grabs you by both your arms and hauls you up onto your feet before swiftly turning you around to be pulled flush against his solid frame. You kick and scream as he takes you towards the bedroom where your panic rises even more at the prospect of what he might actually have in store for you there.

"No please don't! Just take anything you want, please! But just don't hurt me"

You are met with silence as the two of you enter the bedroom. He pauses in front of the bed and the tears stream out of you even harder. Your sobs finally overtake your screaming.

Suddenly and without warning you're flung towards your floor length mirror with your potential assaulter and murderer firmly placing his body flush behind yours. His eyes boring into your own through the mirror.

And that's when you see it. The man had positioned himself in such a way that the moonlight pouring through your window would reflect onto his masked face.

Your sobs instantly quietened as you saw one stormy grey eye heatedly gazing at you through the balaclava opening and one... scarred milky one.

Michael?

"Michael?" You tentatively ask as you sniffle - your struggling subsiding.

He nuzzles your neck and cups your breast, giving it a firm squeeze. You know that hand. You know it well.

Before you can think further, you're picked up and flung onto your bed, the old mattress squeaking in protest at the sudden weight.

Your mind gets whiplash at how suddenly your body responds to this new information and turn of events.

Michael climbs on top of you, not sparing you from his full weight. He straddles your hips, his bloodied hands gripping your wrists tightly above your head. His head is tilted to the side, eyes dilated and dark.

Your breathing has quickened, your nipples pebble and the juncture of your thighs moisten.

A sudden slap to your face causes you to gasp in surprise and before you can think on what just happened your thin spaghetti-strap tank is being torn off of you and you're being flipped onto your stomach as if you weigh little more than a feather.

"Mich--" you start but are stopped from finishing your question when a piece of your torn tanktop is stuffed into your mouth.

Your teary eyes widen when you feel your poor pajama bottoms being ripped off of your goosebump laden body too but immediately close when you feel thick calloused fingers run up along your wet slit from clit to ass.

You moan into the fabric in your mouth as two of his fingers push past your folds and into your eager hole.

You can hear Michael's heavy breathing as he roughly pumps his digits in and out of your slick cavern before adding a third and eventually a fourth.

Your muffled moans get louder and louder as your body squirms beneath his invasive ministrations. You feel so deliciously stretched out by his four long, thick fingers that your eyes begin to tear up again.

Your loosened hole clenches at nothing as Michael pulls out. You turn your head as best you can to see him behind you and moan once more as you view his balaclava in the moonlight. He takes both his thumbs and stretches your abused hole open as much as he can, admiring your slick, velvety tunnel.

You grip the sheets in anticipation as he releases your flesh and reaches for the zipper of his coveralls pulling them down far enough to reveal his glistening, red, swollen, massive member.

You mewl at the sight and wiggle you bottom in eagerness and want.

Michael obliges by roughly pushing your head back down into the mattress and without any indication rams his heavy, weeping cock into your needy pussy.

You scream and grip your sheets harder as he sets a brutal and unforgiving pace - no slow buildup or sensuality for this one. You can scarcely take it. Tears stream down your cheeks, saliva pools into the fabric stuffed in your mouth and your ass and hips jiggle and ripple with every brutal thrust.

Michael's hand leaves your smushed head and grips your hips in bruising force.

Your room is dark and quiet save for the sound of slick skin slapping against slick skin, grunts of exertion and muffled mewls and moans.

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Michael goes deeper and harder, stretching you wider with his monstrous girth, the tip of his cockhead punching against your cervix in exquisite pleasure-pain.

Your cheeks are hot and red, tear stained. Drool has finally broken past the fabric in your mouth and is dripping onto your sheets. Slick is running down your thighs as your loosened hole just cannot contain your shared juices any longer.

Michael leans forward to squeeze your breasts before pinching your nipples so hard you feel your pussy release a new spurt of moisture.

You want to tell him you cannot take anymore. Your body is turning to jelly, the pleasure plain is becoming overwhelming - every nerve of yours is on electric fire and if you produce any more drool you'll surely choke on it.

Michael leaves your breasts and instead begins his cruel ministrations onto your swollen, throbbing clit.

You begin to feel the tightening in your core, your lower abdomen tenses and you can hear Michael fast approaching his own orgasm too if those quiet gasps and slight jerks in his thrusts are anything to go by.

And finally with one hard slap to your clit and one final deep, bruising thrust inside your wrecked cunt you scream out your orgasm into your tanktop. Your abused pussy quivers and clenches around Michael's pulsating cock as it spurts out its thick ropes of cum within you.

Michael's breaths are heavy and laboured behind you as he pulls out. You hear the sopping squelch and feel the gush of liquids flow out of your red, raw, gaping cunt which is trying in vain to clench and hold onto all the juices that now pouring onto your bedding.

Your jellified arm slowly pulls the now sopping fabric from your mouth before you look behind to Michael. His toned and scarred chest is heaving and glistening with sweat. His eyelids sit low from satisfaction and his fingers idly circle your hips where they lie.

"You saw my.... interests on Tumblr didn't you? That's why you did all this tonight, right?" You ask lazily as you roll onto your back and look up at your still masked lover.

Michael tilts his head and continues to stare at you in silence. He reaches for the base of the black mask and pulls it off of his head and shakes out his dark blond curls. He tosses the mask onto your chest and disappears out of the bedroom.

You shake your head and smile to yourself as you clutch the balaclava.

You will always love Michael best in his signature white mask, but a bit of fun in a balaclava from time to time will certainly be a treat.

Perhaps you can show him all of your other kinks now too, seeing as he seems happy to indulge you. And maybe he has some of his own?

You get up to go enjoy a nice hot shower. Sore and stiff, but very very happy.

@megangovier20 hope you enjoy it girl. 😈

Not proof read as I did this before work.

#michael myers #og michael myers #rz michael myers #peepaw michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #slasher smut #slasher #balaclava #halloween #halloween 1978 #halloween 2018 #rz halloween #slasher fucker

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cliozaur · 2 months

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Oh, so this is the chapter with Javert’s leather stock askew! I had a false memory that it happened in his “punish me, Monsieur le Maire” episode and was surprised not to find it there. It means that he came to Monsieur le Maire’s office unshaken and balanced, Inspector at his best. However, the mere possibility that he could have nearly missed Jean Valjean profoundly stressed him.

In this chapter, Hugo attributes some of the most unforgettable characteristics to Javert. “Javert was a complete character, who never had a wrinkle in his duty or in his uniform; methodical with malefactors, rigid with the buttons of his coat.” And his belief system and all the things he is forever associated with are also here:

he, Javert, personified justice, light, and truth in their celestial function of crushing out evil. Behind him and around him, at an infinite distance, he had authority, reason, the case judged, the legal conscience, the public prosecution, all the stars; he was protecting order, he was causing the law to yield up its thunders, he was avenging society, he was lending a helping hand to the absolute, he was standing erect in the midst of a glory.

So, he is “avenging society” – the same society, most of us agree, is the main villain and culprit of “Les Misérables.” That’s very telling. Javert is triumphant, satisfied, “erect, haughty, brilliant,” but also very wrong.

I have just noticed that he is simultaneously likened to a demon and to the “monstrous Saint Michael” – while one is supposed to fight the other.

Javert is not the only intriguing figure in this chapter. How do you like the moment when the royalist court president was shocked to hear how Valjean said “the Emperor, not Bonaparte”? Valjean has pro-Napoleonic sympathies. That’s amusing, for it makes him akin to Marius in this respect.

My hero here is the counsel for the defence: this man really does his job well and effectively defends poor Champmathieu, despite the fact that the defendant is an obscure labourer. It seems to me that such counsels for the defence are the only positive aspects of the whole legal system of the early nineteenth century.

#les mis letters #lm 1.8.3 #les miserables #javert #jean valjean #marius pontmercy

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anjelicawrites · 7 months

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Michael loves you. For the longest time he hadn't know what to do with these feelings.

He's never been good at that, those emotions bubbling inside of him, always out of his control, making him want to reach for the people who bullied him all his life.

Michael loves you and is not afraid, for once, to follow his heart, because you'll never stomp on it, never make fun of him for reaching out, to you.

He doesn't know how to tell you. He's never been good with words, numbers have always been his thing, he's not like the poets you love so much, who can spin a thread, who can weave a beautiful tapestry with such an ease.

Michael loves you and he wants you to know, for all these times when he's been harsh with his words, even to you, for all the times he's felt frustrated by how long it took you to understand what was simple to him.

He sits at his table, his books on the side and tries to write it for you, to express how you make him feel, but words evade him, the tapestry is just a jumbled mess of knots and he's angry at himself, at how hard this is for him.

He is many things, stubborn is one of those and he tries and tries, until he understands that he can't do it like anyone else, because he is not.

His pen flies on the paper, until is almost dawn and he hasn't slept for the whole night, but that doesn't matter, not when it's for you.

He's almost shy when he hands you the envelope, you can see in the way his shoulders are set, his smile, condescending for anyone else, but to you, who know he uses it to cover his uncertainty.

Gently you open the envelope and unfold the paper it holds. Your eyes fall on the rows and rows of numbers and letters, Michael's terrible handwriting easy for you to read. And you understand.

"Is it for me?"

He simply nods, hands balled into fists inside his pockets.

He's told you about the elegance that some equations and formulas have, how there are many ways to write them, and you know, without understanding how to solve this, what he's telling you.

"Michael, this is beautiful." You say with a trembling voice.

You kiss him, messy and uncaring that you two are in the middle of the lawns and people can see you.

Michael holds you tight against himself, glasses askew on his nose and digging in his skin while he reciprocates the kiss with as much ardor as you.

"I'll always keep this with me."

You tell him, your fingers holding the piece of paper with so much strength you're almost crumpling it.

"Oh baby, I am so sorry!"

You add, when you notice his glasses almost falling off his long nose and the mess your lipstick has made on his face.

"It doesn't matter." He answers, choking on tears, but letting you clean his face with a tissue.

Gently, he helps you righting your makeup, holding the small mirror for you as you remove the destroyed coat of lipstick and add another, deaf to the comments people are throwing at the two of you.

He doesn't care about what they're saying. Losers, all of them, who don't know what true love feels like.

#michael gavey #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x reader

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delphiealmond · 2 months

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A Fallen Apple From the Apple Tree

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Pairing ➸ Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor

Synopsis ➸ Lucifer Morningstar believed that Heaven was a sanctuary, the best place for a soul to be in. Growing up with his brothers was the easy part, until God summoned him and his older brother Michael to guard over the portal between realms. Slowly, Lucifer begins to see how frightful Heaven really was. Sought out to defend the sinners of Hell, tragedy strikes among the Archangels. But a familiar face makes Lucifer think that maybe defending his opinion wasn't the worst idea he could've had. Does this familiar face bring him peace? Or does Lucifer end up getting stuck in another twisting cycle of lies and betrayals?

Warnings ➸ None for this chapter

⋆☾⋆𓅮❦⛧⋆☾⋆

MASTERLIST : Previous / Next

Chapter Three (1.6k)

“Luci!!” Michael shouted, shaking his younger brother. He remembered everything that happened the previous night. The discussion, the yelling, the fighting. He remembers seeing the red and black blood. He remembers the Cherubim’s. He remembered the six deadly sins.

At first, he didn’t quite know what caused Lucifer to become so frightened. He was with one of the Cherubim’s, he should’ve been protected. The other boy, he didn’t seem harmful. Though, it was Hell. He should’ve been better at this. He should’ve been with Lucifer instead of being in his dad’s arms. He should’ve shielded Luci with himself so the little demon child didn’t scare his younger brother.

He didn’t know what Lucifer saw. All he saw himself was just the fighting. The deer boy was lying on the floor, cowering while Cherubim held his weapon pointed at the child. Then Satan reacted, which caused even more of a fight to break out.

“Luci, wake up!” Michael shook the younger boy again, only for Lucifer to groan in reply. He buried his face into his blanket, before peering up at his older brother.

“What…?” He muttered.

“Are you okay?” Michael crawled onto his bed, sitting on the other side as he pulled the blankets over himself. Lucifer rolled over, facing Michael as he looked at him. His own blonde hair was a mess on his head as he cuddled the plush duck in his arms.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure…?” Michael frowned. “I… I should've been there.” He pouted, looking at the ceiling.

“What do you mean…?” Lucifer asked. “You were there.”

“I was with Father, I should’ve been protecting you.”

“You were scared,” Lucifer muttered. “And I was curious. Don’t blame yourself, Michael.” He smiled at him, and the older brother knew that Lucifer was only trying to make him feel better.

“You got scared too…”

“Only for a minute.” Lucifer pouted, sitting up in his bed. His pjs were thrown askew, as he rubbed his eyes. “Anyway, the Cherubim was there, and I didn’t get hurt-”

“The boy did…” Michael sat up as well. “He got hurt…” Lucifer paused. He stole a quick glance over to his brother as a frown appeared on his face.

“He shouldn’t have gotten hurt… I was the one who said the wrong thing…” Michael sighed, watching Lucifer try to convince himself that he was the bad guy.

“Come on, Luci, you’re not bad…” He sat up and pulled Lucifer into a hug. “He was bad, he was scary… I think he was even the son of the leader guy that was there..”

“I don’t think so…” Lucifer huffed, his cheeks puffing out as he crossed his arms, just accepting his brother’s hug, yet he didn’t hug him back.

“I have to say sorry.”

“No, you don’t.” The booming voice echoed through the room, and both boys turned their attention to the man in the doorway. God smiled at both of his children as he entered the room. He closed the door behind him, as he headed over to Lucifer’s bed.

“Father..!” Michael smiled, jumping off the bed as he ran into God’s arms.

God picked up Michael, nuzzling his head against his son’s before he sat down on Lucifer’s bed. He placed Michael in his lap as he tried to fix Lucifer’s blonde locks.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything that happened yesterday.” He spoke, yet, this time, his voice was soft and kind. “I shouldn’t have brought you both with me in the first place…” He looked down at Michael.

“Did the boy really get hurt…?” Lucifer asked, shifting closer to his father as he cuddled the plush duck in his arms. God didn’t really answer him, as he fixed Michael’s bangs.

“Father…” Lucifer asked, a frown on his usually joyous face. God sighed, before smiling to Lucifer.

“It’s none of your concern now, Luci.” He patted his head. “I hope you never have to go back down there. It’s not for people like us… Not for children like you.” He gently pinched Lucifer's cheek, yet the action didn’t cheer the boy up.

“How about the two of you spend the day with Sera?” God suggested. Michael lit up immediately.

“I wanna hang out with Sera!” He jumped off his father’s lap and rushed over to his own bed. Lucifer frowned, hugging the plushie as he rested his head against the top of it.

“Trust me Lucifer,” God gently cupped the boy’s cheek. “He learned his lesson that way. If something bad had happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.” He muttered.

Lucifer sniffled, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at his father, yet, he felt even sadder.

“People shouldn’t get hurt because they’re trying to defend the only thing they know…” He frowned, only to get out of his bed as he headed over to his dresser. God sat there, taking a deep breath as he watched his two oldests. He sighed, standing from Lucifer’s bed as he headed over to the door.

“I’ll let Sera know to come by and pick the two of you up. Maybe you could go for some ice cream and a play day at the park.” He encouraged.

Michael beamed at him, a bright smile on his face, while Lucifer just nodded, pulling out an outfit from his dresser.

~~~~

War and chaos ensued around them. The orange sky lingered, the pentagram displayed brightly as the fiery balls of death slowly rose and fell from the volcanoes that surrounded all of Wrath.

Sinners screamed, cried and fought. Battles lingered around every corner, a new dead body every five minutes. Sinners were none other than selfish people who wanted nothing more than everything for themselves. Very similar to the way God was described to him as he sat up in his room, watching the only thing he knew tick by him with every second.

A knock on his bedroom door and his ears twitched. It was pushed open as Satan stood in the doorway. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched his son. He knew what happened yesterday was too much for the boy to handle. He was so young and he should NOT have been attacked the way he had.

“Are you okay…?” he asked. Alastor sighed, pulling his gaze back to the outside world.

“I’m fine…” He muttered.

“Al,” Satan took a step in, closing the door behind him as entered. “I apologize. I should’ve kept an eye on you, kept you close.”

Alastor sighed, shaking his head as he looked at his father. He glanced down to his arm, a white bandage wrapped around it, protecting it from infection.

“I wanted to be there,” He said, standing from his spot. “And I was the one who got myself hurt in the first place.”

“Next time, you’re staying home.” Satan said, sitting at Alastor’s desk. “I don’t want you interacting with Angels again… You’re too young to deal with this type of stuff.”

“But…” Alastor frowned, his ears laying flat against his head. “Isn’t that why I was there in the first place…? So then, if something happens to you…” He paused, looking at his father.

“It’s too soon to bring you into this type of authority. For now at least.” Satan stood, heading over to Alastor as he pet his head, fluffing up his ears. “When you're older you can learn. For now, be a kid.” Alastor frowned, yet his ears twitched.

“He was interesting…” Alastor commented. “Before all of it happened, he seemed… Almost intrigued by the world we live in.”

Satan chuckled, rubbing Alastor’s back.

“Our world is specifically for us, Alastor. Angels aren’t allowed to be down here, and that’s why he was so curious about it all. It’s new for them, just like if we went to visit Heaven, it would be new to us.”

“I don’t ever want to go up to Heaven…” Alastor frowned, yet his tail wagged back and forth. “I think it’s too… wholesome.”

Satan laughed.

“Ah, that’s my boy.” he messed up his hair before he headed over to the bedroom door. “Come down for lunch, Miss Rosie is here.”

Alastor’s ears perked up. He got himself ready, fixed up his hair and fluffed up his ears. Miss Rosie was a bit older than him, but he found her more enjoyable than other children he’s played with. She was kind, and funny. She understood him similarly to his father. He liked spending time with her, whether it be in the back garden of bushes and thorns, or walking through the streets of the Wrath Ring.

Happily heading down the stairs, Alastor was met with the lovely Miss Rosie. She smiled at him, her eyes pitched as the darkness that lingered in her soul, but her smile almost deadly.

“Alastor!” She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him as she pulled him into a tight hug.

“Rosie,” He squeaked, gently patting her arm.

“I heard what happened!” She looked down at his arm, gently taking it. She saw the black blood trying to seep through the bandage. “Are you okay?!” She nearly shouted.

“I’m fine,” He took his arm back, folding his arms behind his back as he smiled at her. “Where are we going today?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” She put a hand on his shoulder, only to link her arm in his. “Mr. Satan, I’m going to take Alastor out for a few hours, and we’ll be back before dinner!” She smiled.

“Of course! Go have some fun, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He spoke.

Alastor nodded, his tail wagging with excitement as he and Miss Rosie left the house.

Yet, Satan sat there, watching his son leave as a deep frown appeared on his face. He glanced at the overlord who stood by him, a frown on her own face.

“We have to do something about the angels.” He said. She looked at him, a heavy sigh from her lips as she nodded.

“Of course, sir.”

Notes➸

Hi!!! I hope you don't mind that I made Alastor's blood black! I thought it would be pretty cool given in this AU he's the son of a deadly sin! Also, I'm literally so excited to write about Heaven, given that Hazbin focuses in Hell??? I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do!!!

If you wanna be added to a taglist, just lemme know and I'll try to add you!

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #del's creativity #alastor

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tigertofu · 8 months

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Hate to love headcanon between a fem!reader and North Yankton Trevor :)

fuck ya love the whole hate to love thing sm 😭 ...... also im sorry i struggle at making headcanon lists that are just pure n simple LISTS as they should be w/out slipping in some form of narrative sometimes and this prompt just lends itself to a story so well..... so this is some sort of half fic/half headcanon list monster. but hey this was rlly fun to write !!! ty as always for requesting 💞💞

pairing: fem reader/Trevor

summary: headcanons/short fic thing about a hate to love relationship between reader and North Yankton Trevor.

cw's: mentions of sex, alcohol

wordcount: 1,714

for narrative’s sake, let’s say that you are a small–time criminal in one of the many little podunk towns of North Yankton. one day, you catch wind of a new crew that’s set up in the area. four guys: a computer–hacking tech whiz of some sort; a big lug of a brute with a penchant for starting unnecessary barfights; a smaller, scrappier brute who’s already sniffed out and either done business with or scared off all the drug peddlers in town; and a stern ringleader who only barely manages to control his anger issues better than the others.

unbeknownst to you though, this crew has also caught wind of you. and one night, as you’re trudging through the snow to your shitty little studio apartment from the grocery store, a car pulls up alongside you and the window rolls down. the driver introduces himself as Michael. he tells you he’s heard about you; heard about how you’re one of the better thieves in the county. he tells you he’s got work for you, if you’ll take it. and ever the opportunist, you do.

a week later, you head out to meet the rest of the men you’ll be working with. they’re currently squatting in an old, abandoned hunting cabin out in the woods that border town. as you sit down for beers and talk with Michael and the computer guy—who introduces himself as Lester—you get a brief rundown of the crew’s history. they hit banks. this tends to cause a stir, so they’re almost always on the run; they landed in their current safehouse just two weeks before. while Lester and Michael cook up plans for the bigger, more dangerous heists, they make a living off of smaller endeavors. holding up gas stations, gutting truck shipments of electronics that Lester then sells off, sticking up gas stations and liquor stores. this is where you come in: there’s a well–to–do pawn shop in town, and Michael wants to hit it. but the people in your town are weary of outsiders, and the heat from the crew’s last bank job hasn’t died down yet. Michael wants you to go in and case the joint for them and, if you’re up to it, help them hit it.

right after you agree (so long’s you get a fair cut of the profits), the wooden door to the cabin slams open. two men stumble in. their faces are red from the cold and, when they get within your smelling range, you realize from booze, too. one’s tall, built like a truck, blond; the other’s got the scraggly, dark brown ends of a mullet peeking out from the edges of his askew trapper hat. there’s something animalistic in his eyes and in his drunken smirk and when he turns his gaze on you, you realize that despite his disheveled everything, he’s actually quite handsome. and you feel Something. a spark or a pang in your chest.

but then he turns to Michael and slurs, “If we’d’ve known you were getting a call girl tonight, Brad and I wouldn’t’ve stayed out so long!” and that Something instantly snuffs out as you now glare at the man with the mullet. you tell him you aren’t a fucking call girl as Michael lets out an exasperated huff and says “Shut the fuck up, Trevor.” but this Trevor guy has seemingly taken a liking to you. he saunters up to you, wavering on his feet, smirking like a cat with a mouse. asks you if you’re sure you don’t wanna make a bit of money tonight, ‘cuz he’s feeling awful lonely and you’re just a real pretty thing. you roll your eyes, tell Michael to keep in contact with you, and make your leave. you slam the door of the cabin shut on Trevor’s pleas to stick around and have some fun.

as you periodically meet up with Michael’s crew over the course of the next few weeks, your mild distaste for Trevor deepens to downright hate. sure, you think he’s attractive and you find some of his obscene jokes and observations funny, but mostly you just find them disgusting. every time he sees you he tries to coax you into bed with him, or convince you into a quickie in the car, or offers you a hit off his well-loved meth pipe, or asks you out on a date to the local tavern. you decline him every time, each “no” growing firmer and snappier. you don’t know why he makes you so mad. maybe it’s because if only he wasn’t so fucking annoying, you’d have fucked him by now.

the pawn shop heist goes well. so well, in fact, that Michael decides to keep you on for their next job: hitting a electronics store in a town a couple hours’ drive away. he sends you and Trevor alone to scope the place out. at some point during the drive, an argument erupts. Trevor asks you why you hate him. you tell him because. he asks what "because" means. you lose your temper, wondering why he chose to have this conversation now of all times, as you’re driving down an empty country lane through a nighttime snow flurry. you put on the brakes and park up on the side of the road and yell at him that you hate him because he’s disgusting, he’s pushy, and he drives you fucking crazy. as you catch your breath from your tirade, he is ominously silent. and then, in a low rumble that makes you feel things you wish it didn’t, he tells you that you drive him crazy, too.

you kiss him for the first time then and there, if only to get him to shut up. you fuck him for the first time then and there, too. an intense mix of hatred and lust that you’ve never felt before makes it rough going. while he’s got you twisted into a pretzel in the back of the car, fucking you like an animal, he keeps trying to praise you: telling you’re pretty when you’re mad, that he knew you had nice tits, etc etc while you keep snarling at him to shut the fuck up.

it’s good though, and addictive. from that day onwards, all your fights lead to angry sex. if you two start arguing in front of the others, you will both “disappear” soon after the yelling stops. if you two start arguing when alone—which starts to happen more frequently because, despite butting heads, you start to be okay with him showing up at your place unannounced—the spat will turn mid–fight into fucking.

at first, you insist on parting ways immediately after both of you are re-clothed. but then one night, after having sex in your bed, Trevor doesn’t get up to leave right after. he lays beside you, one arm slung over your bare stomach, his head face down in your pillow. and for some reason, you don’t try to push him out of your bed.

eventually, post–coital cuddling joins the mix. at first it feels wrong and gross. you haven’t quite gotten used to the various bad smells that usually cling to Trevor. but there’s something comforting about being in the arms of someone and having your arms around them after the intense emotional releases of an argument and fast, desperate sex.

he starts to stick around for long after you’ve both had your more physical needs fulfilled. you start to engage him in non–shouting conversation; start to get to know more about him. and then one day when he comes over, and there isn’t any arguments at all. just talking, drinking beers, and the slowest—which is still rough by most people’s standards—sex you two have had yet. he has a habit of sputtering out frantic “I love you”’s during sex, and it’s always annoyed and repulsed you. but this time is different. you tell him you love him to as you feel him finish inside of you.

as soon as your feelings are made known, he starts to relentlessly tease you. "Oh, but I thought you hated my guts!" he'll tease you about this so much that you'll start to actually hate his guts again during these moments when he pesters you.

for a few wonderful months, whatever is going between you two turns into a relationship. there isn’t much work for Trevor to do during this time, aside from prepping for some vague, big heist that Michael has cooked up for the crew.

by now, the other guys have long figured out what’s going on between you two. Brad frequently teases Trevor about it. Michael says he doesn’t care who fucks who, so long’s it doesn’t get in the way of your guys’ criminal careers. and it doesn’t. things go well, until—

eventually the day of Michael's big heist he's been talking up comes around. they're robbing a cash depot in town. you aren’t there for it; banks are a bit more dangerous than the marks you’re comfortable with robbing. Michael knows this and insists you sit this one out. but Trevor promises to swing by your place to lay low for a bit after the deed is done. all day you look forward to it, waiting for him to show up at your door with a big, manic grin on his face, ready to celebrate with drinks and a night in together. but then the time that he told you he’d show up at comes and goes. and then hours pass. night falls, and there’s still no sign of Trevor. you try calling him, but there’s no answer. as you lay in your bed alone that night, unable to sleep, you think that maybe the cash depot heist didn’t go according to plan and the boys had to skip town ASAP. you aren’t too worried, though. you know that Trevor can handle himself and you knew from the get–go that Michael’s crew is one that doesn’t like to stay stationary, so this was bound to happen eventually. so it’s not worry that keeps you awake until the early morning of the next day: it’s a bittersweet gratefulness for what little time you did get to spend with Trevor, and some slight regret that you hadn’t stopped hating him sooner.

#requests #trevor philips #gtav #gta v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philipsxreader #trevor philips/you #trevor philips headcanons #grand theft auto 5

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vitesse-x · 11 months

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"Ricochet" (Single) is out now! Stream it here.

“Ricochet” was written during an abrupt transitionary period in my life. It expresses a longing to shed the confines of the human experience and return to a realm of familiarity - an ethereal homecoming. -Vitesse X

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musicwebsiteblog · 6 months

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Vitesse X - Ricochet released June 14, 2023 via Music Website (@musicwebsiteblog).

Stream it: https://ffm.to/vitesse-x-ricochet.PNJ

Written & Recorded by Vitesse X Produced by Vitesse X Mixed by Abe Seiferth Mastered by Joe Laporta Artwork by Michael Askew Music Video by Chris Burden (@chris-burden)

youtube

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thisisyourdriverspeaking · 2 days

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Lightening the mood after Miami with another edition of my US number ones posts - the drivers from all series version. Please enjoy 😊😊

Sebastien Loeb (26th February 1974) - Barbara Streisand - The Way We Were

Tony Kanaan (31st December 1974) - Helen Reddy - Angie Baby

Juan Pablo Montoya (20th September 1975) - David Bowie - Fame

Mark Webber (27th August 1976) - Elton John & Kiki Dee - Don't Go Breaking My Heart

Kimi Raikkonen (17th October 1979) - Michael Jackson - Don't Stop Til You Get Enough

Jenson Button (19th January 1980) - Michael Jackson - Rock With You

Felipe Massa (25th April 1981) - Daryl Hall & John Oates - Kiss On My List

Heikki Kovalainen (19th October 1981) - Christopher Cross - Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)

Andre Lotterer (19th November 1981) - Daryl Hall & John Oates - Private Eyes

Pippa Mann (11th August 1983) - The Police - Every Breath You Take

Simon Pagenaud (18th May 1984) - Lionel Richie - Hello

Robert Kubica (7th December 1984) - Wham! - Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

Nico Rosberg (27th June 1985) - Bryan Adams - Heaven

Jerome D'Ambrosio (27th December 1985) - Lionel Richie - Say You, Say Me

Rahel Frey (23rd February 1986) - Whitney Houston - How Will I Know

Kamui Kobayashi (13th September 1986) - Berlin - Take My Breath Away

Rene Rast (26th October 1986) - Cyndi Lauper - True Colors

James Hinchcliffe (5th December 1986) - Bon Jovi - You Give Love A Bad Name

Oliver Turvey (1st April 1987) - Club Nouveau - Let It Be

Sebastian Vettel (3rd July 1987) - Whitney Houston - I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)

Alexander Sims (15th March 1988) - Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up

Molly Taylor (6th May 1988) - Whitney Houston - Where Do Broken Hearts Go

Simona De Silvestro (1st September 1988) - George Michael - Monkey

Sarah Bovy (15th May 1989) - Bon Jovi - I'll Be There For You

James Calado (13th June 1989) - Bette Midler - Wind Beneath My Wings

Brendon Hartley (10th November 1989) - Roxette - Listen To Your Heart

Earl Bamber (9th July 1990) - New Kids On The Block - Step By Step

Cristina Gutierrez (24th July 1991) - EMF - Unbelievable

Abbie Eaton (2nd January 1992) - Michael Jackson - Black Or White

Timmy Hansen (21st May 1992) - Kris Kross - Jump

Daniel Abt (3rd December 1992) & Alice Powell (26th January 1993) - Whitney Houston - I Will Always Love You

Tatiana Calderon (10th March 1993) - Peabo Bryson & Regina Belle - A Whole New World

Christine GZ (22nd July 1993) - SWV - Weak

Alex Lynn (17th September 1993) & Bubba Wallace (8th October 1993) - Mariah Carey - Dreamlover

Michelle Gatting (31st December 1993) - Mariah Carey - Hero

Naomi Schiff (18th May 1994) - Ace Of Base - The Sign

Jessica Hawkins (16th February 1995) & Luca Ghiotto (24th February 1995) - TLC - Creep

Beitske Visser (10th March 1995) - Madonna - Take A Bow

Nicholas Latifi (29th June 1995) - Bryan Adams - Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman?

Jack Aitken (23rd September 1995) - Coolio ft L.V - Gangsta's Paradise

Oliver Askew (12th December 1996) - Toni Braxton - Un-Break My Heart

Louis Deletraz (22nd April 1997) - Puff Daddy ft Mase - Can't Nobody Hold Me Down

Catie Munnings (15th November 1997) - Elton John - Candle In The Wind

Cem Bolukbasi (9th February 1998) - Janet Jackson - Together Again

Jamie Chadwick (20th May 1998) - Next - Too Close

Kevin Hansen (28th May 1998) - Mariah Carey - My All

Mick Schumacher (22nd March 1999) - Cher - Believe

Toni Breidinger (14th July 1999) - Jennifer Lopez - If You Had My Love

Max Fewtrell (29th July 1999) - Will Smith ft Dru Hill & Kool Moe Dee - Wild Wild West

Robert Shwartzman (16th September 1999) - Enrique Iglesias - Bailamos

Bent Viscaal (18th September 1999) - TLC - Unpretty

Felipe Drugovich (23rd May 2000) - Santana ft The Product G&B - Maria Maria

Marta Garcia (9th August 2000) - N'Sync - It's Gonna Be Me

Arthur Leclerc (14th October 2000) - Christina Aguilera - Come On Over Baby (All I Want Is You)

Sophia Florsch (1st December 2000) & Clement Novalak (23rd December 2000) - Destiny's Child - Independent Women Pt 1

Frederik Vesti (13th January 2002) - Nickelback - How You Remind Me

Luke Browning (31st January 2002) & Liam Lawson (11th February 2002) - Usher - U Got It Bad

Olli Caldwell (11th June 2002) - Ashanti - Foolish

Jack Doohan (20th January 2003) - Eminem - Lose Yourself

All added to this playlist

#mark webber #jenson button #andre lotterer #nico rosberg #james hinchcliffe #sebastian vettel #jamie chadwick #mick schumacher #arthur leclerc #clement novalak #frederik vesti #luke browning #liam lawson #jack doohan #motorsport #music #spotify #motorsport number ones #Spotify

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mitsies · 1 year

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-;, SPRING SHIVERS ! ; michael kaiser > it's a lot colder than you would expect this spring. you are unprepared, kaiser is not.

you really should not have forgone your coat.

it's cold out now, really, really cold. when you arrived at the party, it was a cheery spring day with the warm sun placing gentle kisses on the skin left exposed by your outfit. now, that sun was banished from the sky, replaced with an indigo fog and a blanket of stars that sent shivers down your spine with each gust of cold wind.

you didn't think you'd stay late enough for the weather to change this drastically, but your boyfriend had run into some old acquaintances who had been friendly enough to distract the both of you from leaving at a reasonable time. he was currently still saying his goodbyes, letting you escape to get a breath of fresh air early outside.

you crossed your arms over your chest as another whisper of wind froze the blood inside your skin, eliciting another huff from you. you were watching your breath dissipate into the night sky when a familiar voice sounds from behind you, accompanied by the opening of a door. you turn to see kaiser, jogging up behind you.

he's wearing baggy black jeans with a white button-down and a deep blue v-neck sweater layered over top. the collar is askew and as he approaches, you shake out your frozen fingers and pull it to its proper position. "hope i didn't keep you waiting too long, babe."

he's complacent when you flick him in the forehead, grinning at you as if you've just kissed him. "you did, actually," (it had only been a minute), "i should break up with you for this."

"whatever. you were just my sidepiece anyways." you shove him and he laughs, "i'm kidding."

you're about to bite back until another wave of wind hits you like a train and you position your arms over your frame again in a vain attempt to block out the wind. kaiser frowns as you curl your fingers into fists to prevent them from falling off.

"you should've brought your jacket."

"don't lecture me. i'm suffering enough already."

"i'm just saying. how is this a lecture?"

you scoff dramatically and start walking in the general direction of your apartment, about 5 minutes away, leaving your boyfriend to catch up. he meets your pace easily, falling into step beside you. "hold on."

stopping the both of you, kaiser slides the blue sweater off. it catches on the sleeves of his button-down, pulling it up and revealing a familiar stretch of ink embellishing the skin of his arm. he hands you the sweater, with a stupid wink and a cheesy pickup line and you fight down the urge to leave your lipstick stamps all over his dumb face.

"how chivalrous of you." sliding the sweater on, you're instantly alleviated from the biting winds of an early-spring night, feeling the warmth of both the knit piece and your boyfriend's act of affection.

"only the best for you," he replies with a little bow that makes you laugh. he smiles at you like you've just gone and hung all the stars in the sky. "are we going to your place?"

you nod, and are about to continue walking when you stop again. kaiser looks at you inquisitively, as you say, "i'm still cold, though."

he frowns. "we can stop for a warm drink on the way, but there's not much we can do until-"

you cut him off with a hefty, theatrical sigh and pull the sleeves of the sweater, far too long to fit you, up to expose your hands. "my hands are cold."

kaiser blinks, letting out an 'oh' before he grins at you like a fool, instantly moving to intertwine his fingers with yours. he pulls the top of your hand close, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. "allow me to help, then, pretty."

"sure. maybe i won't break up with you."

he laughs again, the sound clear and loud and as genuine as it is full of unbridled affection, as it rings out in the emptiness of the night sky. "i'd appreciate that."

#michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #kaiser x reader #kaiser michael x reader #reader insert

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 7 months

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A Study In Wings

By now, both Winchesters have sported wings at some point in their lives.

Sam was first, although his had been a bit frayed, what with the angel possessing him being injured while Sam himself had been close to death. Still, it had been an impressive sight: Gadreel, nearly as tall as Sam, with his athletic, regal posture, his wingspan as wide as the whole room. Sam’s gentleness had shone through the angel’s mask, giving the celestial entity an imposing yet gracious expression. A little brother trapped in one of God’s soldiers gone rogue.

Dean, now, had been an entirely different affair. Sleek, cruel Michael with his cold-blooded elegance and Peaky Blinders style had been a stark contrast to Dean’s valiant pragmatism. Shunning the older Winchester’s ingrained protectiveness, the archangel had been an eerily handsome yet merciless caricature of its vessel, reminiscent only of those parts of Dean that Hell and Crowley had brought to the forefront. He’d looked the archangel part, though, majestic and cold when unfolding those perfectly groomed wings.

However, there had only ever been one family member who’d worn those wings best.

Dean will never forget Castiel walking into that hangar, sparks flying around his commanding figure, walking through a hail of bullets without even blinking. He should’ve looked harmless in that rumpled trenchcoat, tie askew, hair unkempt. But he didn’t. Dean remembers his breath catching in his throat, remembers the rage he felt as well as the fear and the sheer awe.

“What are you?” he’d demanded, heart pounding in his chest.

“I am an Angel of the Lord,” Castiel had answered, proving it with a full spread of those beautiful, frightening black wings.

In the years to come, he’d lost them, now and again, those wings, along with his grace and - thankfully - his blind obedience to a father who really did not care. He’d lost them to side with the Winchesters, to become as breakable and vulnerable and fallible as they were. But, looking back and through it all, Castiel had been the one who’d earned them most.

#suptober23 #no.6 #full spread #fanfic #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #archangel michael #gadreel #supernatural #spn #these are getting shorter and shorter #and i'm falling behind #probably need some angel grace to keep going #callback to 4x01 #lazarus rising #i freakin' love that episode so much

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tsarisfanfiction · 16 days

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There's An Endless World To Rediscover

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Austin, Michael Michael... isn't dead. Two years and two more wars but he's back now, and it's weird. But it's a good weird, Austin hopes. TOApril day 22 - Never Forget. This fic is sort of a companion piece to my fic Dawn Rises From The East, although that isn't required reading for this. All that's important is that this is a Michael Lives AU!

There were some memories that just didn’t fade. Austin had had a few of those through his life, but the one that stuck with him right then was the staccato of a breaking bridge, the crescendo of water erupting from the river below, and the silence of bare cables. Many of his memories of Michael were fading, the way memories tended to, but that one was still pin sharp, even two years later. At this point, Austin was pretty certain it had cemented itself a place in his reel of memories for good.

This moment was going to join it.

There had been no staccato or crescendo ahead of the silence, just the usual ebb and flow of chatter between siblings, liberally sprinkled with interjections from their dad. It didn’t make it any less dramatic as, one by one, their attention was caught by the new arrival.

Michael looked rough. He looked tired, and dirty, like the two things he needed most in the world were a hot shower and his bed.

He looked alive, and Austin was glad for Will and Apollo jumping in, breaking the silence and proving that Austin wasn’t suddenly hallucinating his dead brother.

The rest of the day was a blurred whirlwind, one that Austin couldn’t tell anyone specifics of if asked. Yes, he knew that Michael had reclaimed his old bunk above Will, yes he knew that they’d filled an increasingly tired looking big brother in on the whole Roman side of things, and he even remembered that there had been happy birthday songs at the campfire, because apparently Michael’s birthday was close to Will’s.

Austin had never known that, although if he looked at a calendar he could understand why that had never come up before. The only summer he’d known Michael had been the summer the war against Kronos had reached its peak, and things like birthdays hadn��t been deemed important. They hadn’t celebrated Will’s that year, and now, remembering how bittersweet Will had been about it last year, and even that morning, Austin realised that the two of them had always had a joint celebration at camp, before the silence that had stolen Michael from them.

Now, he was back, and things were slotting back into place that Austin hadn’t even realised had fallen askew in the first place.

No-one really talked about it until the day after. It was surreal, getting out of bed to see Michael slipping down from his bunk like he’d never been gone, except for the clothes that didn’t quite fit him anymore, because apparently he had grown in the past two years. Austin only believed that when the physical evidence of too-short clothing made itself known, because Michael seemed smaller than he remembered.

He'd always been taller than him, but the gap felt larger now.

“You’ve grown,” Michael said to him, some time after breakfast. Austin had slipped away to the amphitheatre and the comfort of music, not Michael’s usual haunt at camp at all. He’d been certain his eldest brother would have gone straight for the archery range, with Kayla.

Kayla was adjusting to having her favourite brother (Austin was not a fool, they’d always been second fiddle to Michael, even in Michael’s two year long absence) back with ease. There had been tears, and tight hugs, but Kayla and Michael had always been like two peas in a pod, and it felt like she’d already forgotten the two years between his disappearance and now.

Austin hoped that didn’t come back to bite her, later, but didn’t have much time for additional thinking because Michael had singled him out, if he’d traipsed all the way to Austin’s haunt just to comment on his height.

He’d been going around all of them, that morning. Will had taken a chunk of it, but then Will had known Michael for significantly longer than the rest of them. Kayla, too, but Austin figured the favouritism went both ways, so that made sense, too. Even the new kids had had some sort of chat with Michael as he obviously tried to get to know his newest little siblings.

Austin hadn’t expected Michael to try and reconnect with him, though. In hindsight, it was obvious, because Michael had always had time for all of them, even when he was sniping with Clarisse or buried right to the top of his head in battle plans and contingencies.

“I’m older,” he said, rather belatedly. Michael seemed to take that as an invitation to find a seat next to him. Unlike most Apollo kids, who reached for instruments when they sat in the amphitheatre, he seemed content to keep his hands empty. Austin couldn’t relate.

The silence that descended over the two of them was awkward with expectations Austin didn’t remember how to fill. Two years ago, it was easy, talking to his head counsellor, but now, more wars and trauma later, to say nothing of a supposed death, he didn’t have a clue what to say to ease the pressure.

Michael didn’t seem to know, either, because he looked at his lap, twisting his fingers together, and said nothing else for a long moment. Austin’s own fingers kept fiddling with the violin, trying to check if the strings were in tune without actually breaking the silence between them, which didn’t really work too well.

Eventually, his brother growled. “Oh fuck it,” he muttered, and leaned back on his palms, looking up at the sky for a moment before Austin found himself on the receiving end of his stare. “Play something.”

The words were sharp, rough, and demanding – all things that Austin remembered Michael could be, had been during his first summer at camp, before his eldest brother disappeared – but the look on his face was closer to pleading.

“It’s been a long time since I heard music,” he added, softer and a solid gut punch, because Austin couldn’t imagine spending even hours without music, let alone however long Michael had gone without it, and he didn’t think his brother was just lying to make him play. Except…

“You heard music last night,” he pointed out. “The whole camp literally sang you happy birthday.”

Michael shook his head. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Last night was…” he faltered, and shook his head again. “Campfires are different. Campfires are supposed to be music. It’s different.”

Somehow, Austin thought he understood what Michael was trying to say. “Rehearsed,” he said. “What we do at campfire is rehearsed.”

“That,” Michael confirmed. “It’s not…” He waved his hands vaguely, words trailing away, but Austin got it, he hoped.

He plucked at the strings, adjusting the E string when it sang just a little out of tune, before nestling the instrument under his chin and just beginning to play.

It wasn’t a recital, like he’d default to with his sax. He’d played that for so long that his first instincts were always things he’d played a hundred times before, before he started to branch out and experiment.

He wasn’t at that stage with the violin yet. The notes that he drew out with bow and fingers didn’t align with anything in particular, just instinct guiding him into something new and raw. Something unrehearsed, something unattached to anything else, just pure music for the sake of music.

Michael smiled, a small thing but still undoubtedly a smile all the same, and reclined back further, until he was leaning against the next row of stone seats. He didn’t look at Austin, kept his eyes on the sky where the morning sun was gracefully evading any clouds that tried to get in its way.

Then he started to hum, and Austin almost dropped the bow in shock because he was certain Michael had never done that before. He barely recalled him singing in campfire songs, despite being head counsellor and arguably their leader (although Will never sang, either). Him humming along to Austin’s improv was different and weird but it was a good different and a good weird. It chased away the awkwardness hanging between them, two years of absence rendered insignificant by the sheer power of music.

Austin could get used to that. He could get very used to it.

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