#angel kicking his feet like he doesnt know exactly what hes doing

[planetsolaris]

*lays on my stomach, kicking my feet and twirling the phone cord* tell me about your blorbos

[plugs in my earbuds, puts on music and cracks knuckles] HERE WE GO LETS DO THIS THING this is going to be the longest post i ever write so please bare with me. also this wont be coherent

ok first: spoilers for All of final space. blue you can read this when we watch it together and also ashc*to shippers if you even come near this post nobody will find your body okay lets start

now. ash graven. i am the ash expert no one understands her like i do (real) lets start off with her. she is the Least open person in like the entire universe. like her first instinct upon meeting people is being as unwelcoming as possible (whether it is on purpose or not) which is totally because every single person in her life except for little cato has dehumanized her like you couldnt believe and she feels unloveable and dangerous and like she's always been surrounded by people either older than her (her brother fox) or just completley unapproachable (her shithead dad). so naturally she meets this boy a couple years younger than her and shes like. okay cool. how long till i fuck this up

the answer is like less than two hours within knowing him she randomly spats out that she likes him. which i dont think is remotely romantic el oh el this girl does not know how to interact with people naturally whoever interprets this as romantic can go to hell actually

and like. yeah. she is horrible at first impressions and pretty much everyone is either 1. scared of her or 2. finds her weird as hell. ALL EXCEPT FOR MY MAN LITTLE CATO

its worth noting that little cato is a literal ANGEL and he's kind and friendly with everyone and i LOOOOVE him for it. but it is so so so so important how nice he is to her specifically actually. yeah he starts off defensive because she kinda calls him a Pet and tells him to shush but ill say it again: do you think this girl has any idea how to talk normally to people. i get the feeling he quickly realizes that she doesnt mean any harm and is just. weird. like. Hi I Made This Doll Out Of Your Hair No It Doesn't Matter How I Got It weird.

it is SOOO obvious that she clings onto whoever is slightly nice to her Forever. he smiles at her once(1) and shes like okay this is going to be my new best friend for the rest of my life. and like i talk so much about how she loves him more than anything but never how !!! he does as well !!!!!! example.

as soon as she Thinks about having to go back to serepentis (place where she got unbelievably traumatized by watching her little sister Die im gonna get to that) she goes crazy and yells at everyone how she is Not going back there. i dont wanna throw gary under the bus but thats exactly what im gonna do right now. he tries to convince her for Two seconds (never trying to comfort her) and then gives up and tells little cato to try instead. now this single line is so important (im not insane) because the idea that gary went "she'll definitely talk to YOU" makes me feel like everyone kinda knew they were close (time in this show is weird but i believe they were already friends off screen fight me). but anyway little cato instead tells her "hey you dont have to answer but wanna talk about what happened" and she immediatly dumps it all on him. he knows her !!! and if he didnt know her at this point he knew enough about loss and grief to know this is what she needed to hear !!because he too saw a family member he loved so much die and feels like its his fault !!!! this is so important !!!!!!!

i can go on about the serepentis episode for ages and the fucking Scene at the end of said episode where he goes to talk to her because she went through Stuff in that episode and how he listens to her and makes her laugh and how this was the moment that sealed their friendship forever and and and. im gonna go off about how he reminds her of her dead sister instead

we dont know shit about harp but i choose to believe she was ash's baby sister because Fight Me. its not a coincidence that they had THEE bonding scene right after the episode we learn about harp. ash missed having a little sibling and she clearly trusted harp more than anyone and little cato made her feel like that again. he made her feel like someone loved her again. she had seen her baby sister dead in front of her yelling that she was gone and then ran after him right away like Come On. dont even get me started on how he understands her pain more than anyone in the team squad. his father died in front of his eyes because of a trap he unknowlingly helped set up, and a bomb that should've killed little cato. ash feels like she should've been surrendered instead of harp, or at the very least use her recently aqquired powers to save her. they both blame themselves for something that was really unavoidable. trauma bonding, yay!! this is a tiny detail and i dont think the storyboarders thought about this when they added it in, but when little cato is talking about how hes willing to make the time switch thingy so his dad can live, the camera focuses on her for a second and she looks concerned. she knows how he feels you guys. she knows why hes saying what hes saying because she'd do the same thing for her sis.

anyway season 2 doesnt really give them any other big moments but i overanalyze every second theyre on screen. from the grand surrender onwards nearly everytime theyre in the same screen theyre next to each other, i think ash feels safe around him and hes aware, so they kinda naturally go towards each other. i might be insane but i remember ash looking to his direction when she talks sometimes as if shes looking for approval. love wins <333

ok i need to move on or im gonna be here forever i have an entire season left

season 3 was like designed so i would go insane about it. like olan was in the writers room like el oh el lets make ash and little cato have these horrifying arcs that then link to each other so they can suffer together. that sounds like itll hurt red.

but anyway. to me it feels like the entire time theyre in final space (hell dimension) they leaned on each other. sure, little cato got a month to be with his recently revived father, but avocato was also going through shit, and couldnt relate to a lot of the things that happened to his son while he was gone. so what does little cato do? goes to ash. ash, on the other hand, was like having the worst time of her life. her father just ran away on them, she still had her big brother but it never felt like they could connect on a lot of the stuff that happened to her, what does she do? you will never fucking guess. this is all off screen btw trust me olan told me.

in this season they both go through horrible shit. ash finds out shes kinda like the daughter of this disembodied space demon and shes doomed to becoming as evil as it. she loses her brother, the one person she still had left. little cato finds out his "father" killed the king and queen of their home planet and never told him. ill get to the quotation marks in a bit.

ash is manipulated and used for this entire season, while little cato slowly drifts away from his dad. shes forced by gary to abandon her big brother. she FEELS invictus calling her, he grows concerned. when she goes into that black hole to look for answers, he desperately yells for her through the windows of the ship. when she comes back from receiving the "gift" from invictus hes the first person she goes to. the only person she SMILES at. shes changed, shes been forced to grow up but she still trusts him. she knows he wont freak out, she knows she can talk to him. little cato knows that hes the only one in the team squad who will, at this point, now that fox is gone. he is the only one she has left. he tries to protect her from the others, telling his dads not to freak out when they see her. OUGH i cant form a coherent thought about this its just. god. she clings onto him for this entire part of the season because she cannot afford to lose him. her reasons to stay on the team squad's side start to slowly fade away until she only has him.

and then she overhears gary and avocato talking about little cato's real parents. about how avocato killed them, about how hes been lying to his so called "son" this entire time. this is her last straw. she decides that hes safer with her. HE is her only priority. she HAS to protect him, what is she left with if she doesnt? hes the only one thats ever been cared about her.

so that scene was the worst thing that ever happened to me. little cato sees her in the midst of a mental breakdown and he calmly tells her that he thinks shes losing it, that shes scaring him. he NEVER gets angry or defensive not even when she tells him the truth mind you. do you think they wrote this scene thinking i would overthink it for the rest of my life. she takes him away because she loses grasp of whats rational and needs him around. to me it never felt like little cato wanted to leave her behind, he was "rescued" by his dads but he never seemed to antagonize her like the others did. he gave her the benefit of the doubt till the very end because he knew shed never lie or hurt him on purpose. i dont think he ever realized she was so important to him actually. he trusted her and tried his best to help her through invictus' control, but at the end of the day there was nothing he could do.

now if adult swim werent cowards and the show had a fourth season, i strongly believe little cato would've gone through the realization that maybe he needed her as much as she needed him and he would've been the one to still believe in her and convince the team squad to give her another chance. because he loves her and she loves him and they had the strongest relationship in the series right after gary and avocato dont @ me i know im right

anyway that was every single thought i have on their relationship i am eternally sorry for how long this is and how i could honestly go on [passes out on the post button]

#red asks #final space #ash graven #little cato #long post #like oh my god extremely long post

[kirishwima]

RFA + minor trio (or duo, if you don’t wanna do Vand.) with an foreign MC who always keeps at least 3 knives on them at all times. And knows how to handle guns. And is overall just badass

ooo im just imagining a badass Black Widow-esque MC lol, i love it! I love even more how there's no explanation as to how or why they know how to handle guns and knives, even better 😆

YOOSUNG:

* Baby boy is SPOOKED

* MC is so sweet, gentle and patient with him...he never once thought of them as anything less than an innocent angel

* Yet one night they're lounging around at his apartment, when there's a loud thud from the other room that startles them both

* Yoosung's scared, sure, but he tries to gulp down his fear, ready to protect MC if need be-that's what a good boyfriend should do afterall!

* Well...or not, seeing how MC is already up from the couch with a knfie in each hand-where did those even come from?! Already taking cautious steps towards the door the thud came from

* They kick the door open with their leg, brandishing their knives when they check the perimeter, realising it's just a box with trinkets that fell from the edge it sat on

* Yoosung has...a lot of questions

*But well, MC turns and looks at him with their usual sweet expression and he just swallows down any comments he had. Why ask what doesn't need to be answered?

* From now on he's always cowering behind MC when something spooks him, and threatens Zen or Seven with MC when they tease him

ZEN:

* He got a new role as the villain that shoots the hero at the final scene-the director asked him to use a real gun but without any bullets inside to 'make it more realistic', or so he said

* Well, Zen has never even held a gun before; no just because he rode a motorcycle doesnt mean he was some gangster that shot up banks, like Seven insists he must've

* So when he comes home baffled, flopping down on the couch besides MC, they of course ask him what's wrong, why he's frowning the way he did.

* When he explains what's wrong, MC shrugs. 'That's all? I can teach you' they say, and shoot up from the couch, leaving Zen to stare at their retreating figure with wide eyes.

* MC...would teach him how to use a gun? Sure they were really cool and he could tell they feared near next to nothing, but guns...?

* Well, he's even more baffled when MC comes out of their bedroom with a gun in each hand, twirling them around their fingers with practices ease

* 'Come on, get up' they say and not to the backdoor, 'we're going to learn how to shoot-without bullets though, because while I love you, I don't trust you with a loaded gun just yet' they add with a teasing smirk.

* Well, Zen follows along like a wobbly noodle, his hands shaking as MC hands him a pistol, guiding him through to the correct stance and hold of it. He has so, so many questions, but none of them come out, lodged in his throat like a fish bone.

* He can't say he hates this though-the way MC stands behind him, leaning one leg between his to bend his knees, how they wrap their hands around his forearms, snaking from behind his back as they hold the gun together, MC's voice breathy beside his ear.

* "Baby...be honest with me. Are you some secret foreign spy or something?"

* MC laughs, soft and devious and like music to Zen's ears.

* "That's for me to know and for you to find out" they say with a teasing wink, their accent thicker than usual, and oh boy-if Zen has a Beast inside him, then MC has a whole darn savage garden, and he's more than eager to unleash it.

JAEHEE:

* She notices bits and pieces of MC that puzzle her; their hyper-alertness to the tiniest sound, their stance-tall, proud, always ready to pounce like an alpha predator, how they'll hide Jaehee behind them at the slightest sign of danger; Jaehee figured MC was just a very cautious person, but realises soon enough that there must be something more than that happening.

* She finds out when, one day, a group of raggedy looking men come into their cafe, the one leading the pack wearing sunglasses and a cap as if to remain anonymous, speaking loudly in a different language Jaehee couldn't quite pin-point, but figured it mist be Slavic.

* She didn't pay any mind-MC was up front as the cashier today, and Jaehee was in the back preparing drinks, so she wouldn't be the one dealing with them. She did however flash the group a smile as their attention shifted to her, swiftly going back to her work.

* She heard them mutter something amongst themselves with a sly laugh, but again, she couldn't know what they were saying, so she kept her attention still on the espresso machine, watching the beans slowly get grounded into fine dust.

* Well, MC apparently more than understood what the men said-with a thud they tugged the leader-dude's shirt by the collar, bringng him inches away from their face, their mouth forming a vicious snarl as they said something to him in a low growly voice, and surprisingly, in the same language as the men spoke.

* MC let the man go with a final push away from the counter, taking pride in the way he stumbled back, his mouth agape; he immediatly nodded to his lackies who all run right behind him and straight out the door, much to Jaehee's shock.

* "MC...what just-"

"They commented on your body. I said that you're under my protection, so they shouldn't even look your way like that again." MC supplied, and with a shrug went back to their usual customer service smile.

* Jaehee didn't ask what 'under my protection' meant for MC-she was just secretly happy for her brave, badass partner.

JUMIN:

* He's very observant-and he can see crystal clear that there’s more to MC than meets the eye.

* He loves them-of course he does, and their mystique aura makes them all the more alluring to him, from the thick accent that rolls of their tongue, to their confident strut as they walk down the street, to the knives strapped on their thighs....

* Wait. Wait wait, KNIVES?!

* He notices them the first time when they’re walking downtown with MC, their bodyguards merely a few feet behind, when some crazed fangirl ran up to the couple, screaming incoherencies at Jumin’s face.

* The bodyguards were quick to act, running straight ahead and taking the fangirl away from the pair, but Jumin’s eyes are razor sharp; he didn’t miss the way MC’s hand calmly went to the slit of their flowy summer dress, dragging the hem a little higher, the flash of metal peeking off of their thigh tight on a garter.

* He doesn’t mention it straight away, but later on, at dinner, he calmly asks if MC is currently armed, and MC nonchalantly answers ‘Yea, always’, while taking a sip of their wine.

* He hums in agreement, nodding slow as he processes their reply. “What are you armed with?”

* MC smirks, leaning closer across the table, a cat-like curiosity in their gaze. “Knives, sometimes a gun, my dashing good looks-you name it and I probably have it on my person.”

* Jumin smiles. “I’m glad you take your safety this seriously my love. It makes me feel safe to know you can protect yourself if the need arises.”

* The conversation ends at that, the pair going back to their casual conversation...but not before Jumin takes a sip of his wine, eyes fluttering shut before they open again, piercing and staring right to MC with pupils blown wide.

* “I suppose I’ll have to carefully examine just what weapons it is you have on you. For your own safety, of course.”

* And well, MC ain’t about to say no to that lmao

SEVEN/SAEYOUNG:

* Hoo boy

* He’s already curious when his background check on MC brings back pretty much nothing, except their upbringing in a foreign country, and an overall normal-seeming facebook account.

* But Seven’s not satisfied. Nobody’s background is that clean. Nobody’s. So he digs more, more, more, yet still there’s nothing, and his curiosity is peaqued, his eyes narrowed as he looks to the cameras in Rika’s apartment, seeing MC nonchalantly lounge on the couch, playing on their phone.

* “I’ll find out just what it is you’re hiding” he vows, ignoring the flush of his cheeks as MC looks up to the camera with a cheeky smile, knowing exactly what it is they’re doing.

* He finds out just what it is that interested him so in MC when he dashes to the apartment, seeing MC struggle with a man who could only be the hacker, broken glass pieces at their feet from the broken window.

* He’s about to step in, tackle the man to the ground and protect MC-only he doesn’t have to. MC takes the man down in a swift movement, using their smaller frame to the man to sneak behind him and kick his shins, tumbling him down and stradling his chest to keep him in place, despite the glass chunks that are probably digging into the hacker’s back.

* More so, they pull up their skirt, bringing a knife up from the hilt, bringing it to the man’s throat with a warning growl.

* Seven...has no idea what he’s doing there, other than just staring at the two people in front of him, not until the security system’s activated and targets the hacker, who flees without so much as a word to Seven.

* “I uh. I see you had it all under control” he says with a stutter, his eyes wide. MC stands up, wiping gunk and blood off of their cheek as they turn to Seven with a grin. “Sure did, but I could always use some extra help” they tell him and oh boy. Oh fuck his life, Seven’s hooked around this person’s sharp, bloody little finger.

* He doesn’t want to scout them into his agency, because he doesn’t want this sort of life for MC-but he will ask for their assistance with missions sometimes, konwing they can more than take care of themselves when the need arises.

* Just a badass but also memey couple really lol

V/JIHYUN:

* After his first unsuccesful attempt to save MC from Rika, he’s worried how MC will fare until he comes to their rescue, if they’ll be hurt in their attempt to escape.

* Well...whatever he was expecting, he certaintly did not expect this.

* He didn’t expect to come back to the cult, only to find MC already roundhouse kicking a vial of elixir from Ray’s hands, kicking it into the ground and pummeling straight into Ray to bring him down before he could attack her, then moving straight to the rest of the Believers, fighting 4-on-1 with so much ease it looked almost like a scene out of a video game.

* V’s lost for a moment before MC turns to him, wiping sweat off their brow as he looks on in confusion. “What the hell are you doing?” they ask, grabbing his hand as they tug him along, “we have to go! Come on!”

* Seven’s skills were pretty much unecessary in their escape lmao, but he’s still glad he tagged along to help the pair escape.

* When in the safety of the faraway cabin, and without anyone having to actually take the elixir this time, V sits dumbfounded, looking to MC like they’re some sort of vicious god.

* “How-how did you do all of that? You just-” he remembers the ease they fought men twice their size off, how they even pulled a knife on one to intimidate him before he could so much as raise a finger to hurt V. “You’re so...strong” he decides, lost for words.

* MC shrugs. “I just do a lot of upper body exercises at the gym. And TRX. It’s good strength training.”

* Honestly....V’s route flows so much easier with this badass MC by his side lol. Rika doesn’t stand a chance to hurt anyone with MC here.

RAY/SAERAN/UNKNOWN:

* Their skills were not, in fact, why he chose MC as his tester. He didn’t even really know about any of their badassery, only that they grew up in a foreign country, and could speak multiple languages, which he found interesting, sure, but unecessary.

* He was thrilled at their kind nature, but also a little aprehensive. He knows no usual person would just up and walk into a van with a driver that blindfolded them to take them to an unkown location. What secrets could MC be hiding? He wanted nothing more than to find out.

* Well, he finds out soon enough. Or rather, Saeran does-when his agressiveness kicks in, when he tries to tackle MC to the ground and hold them in place, show them he’s superior...well, he doesn’t get the chance to.

* MC frowns at him as he tries to push them to the wall, taking his hand and holding it in a bruising-tight hold, swiftly moving behind him and bringing his hand to his back, the cracking sound of his shoulder alerting him he’s most certaintly going to feel that for the next few days.

* “You don’t get to touch me as you please” MC whispers in his ear before letting him go, seeing the way he stumbles a few steps ahead before regaining his balance.

* MC is still kind and tries to help him become the kind person they met in the begining of their arrival here, but won’t take Saeran’s shit under any circumstances. Instead they fight back tooth and nail, showing him all they got when he tries to push them around.

* This also makes escaping the cult with Saeran that much easier-they fight through hoards of Believers like they were paper-light, MC even grabbing a pistol off of one of them and firing scarily precise warning shots at just the right places to scare them all off.

* Welp, mark down Saeran as scared *and* horny lmao

VANDERWOOD:

* He met MC through their escape attempt with V and Seven, and hoo boy-HOO BOY.

* He sees their agility, their swift movements and the way they handle a knife like it was but an extension of their hand, and he’s head over heels in an instant.

* He keeps trying to scout them into the agency, promising them riches, but MC laughs at his offer with a roll of their eyes, refusing every time.

* Once, when he asks MC to join, they lean close to him, bringing a finger under his chin as they tilt his face to meet theirs. “Why don’t you join me instead?” they purr, and at that moment, Vanderwood is putty under their hands.

* He’d follow this badass person to the ends of the world, agency be damned.

* He does ask them to team up with him for some missions, secretly from the agency, and is pleased with the results, noting how quickly and efficiently the two work as a team.

* They’re literally the most badass couple in existence hoooly shit lol

-Send me mystic messenger headcanons/prompts for character reactions!-

#aks #anon #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme headcanons #mysme prompts #mystic messenger prompts #jumin han #jaehee kang #yoosung kim #hyun ryu #jihyun kim #luciel choi #saeran choi #vanderwood

[javisjeanjacket]

The Phantom Menace Drunk Re-Watch

A/N: y’all asked for more reviews and I am here to serve. :) also THE HORSE IS OUT OF THE HOSPITAL CAN I GET A HELL YEAH YOU KNOW I HAD TO CELEBRATE SOMEHOW!!

I am already regretting re-watching this god awful movie but i can’t do maul dirty

there are spoilers for phantom menace in this list but like...its been out for 21 years. if you havent seen it yet what the fuck are you doing

Jesus christ this thing is 2 hours long fuck me

Starting the opening crawl off with a bunch of high brow political information was a BOLD move at best

Obi-Wan "I have a bad feeling about this." Kenobi

YESS OBI AND QUI FUCK EM UP BOIS

Okay okay wait so around 7 minutes into the movie they have a standoff with two droidekas and the droidekas are kicking their asses and so they escape and then somehow just zoom out of the frame?? like they don't walk they're just pulled by some kind of force??? 1999, man

Obi: "The negotiations were short" what a smug ass bitch i love it

"A communications interruption can only mean one thing-invasion" dude what the hell that can not be the case. have you checked the wifi router my guy

Oh fuck I forgot jar jar binks is in this movie get me another beer

also who plays jar jar?? becauseeee I just want to talk. why would you do this to us

That cheek blubbering shaking he does?? JAIL. I AM ABSOLUTELY PUTTING YOU UNDER ARREST STOP RIGHT NOW

Do you think the phantom menace was for the prequels what rise of skywalker was for the sequels in terms of disappointment in the theater

So fun fact about me I have a horrible fear of the ocean and water in general so this whole underwater sequence is literally making my skin crawl

Naboo is vaguely reminiscent of rivendell from lord of the rings I said what I said

While I do respect how much effort they put into the political side of this movie's plot I feel like it's kind of getting in the way tbh

HELL YEAH FIGHT SCENE IN THE HANGAR BAY

"hello boyos." Me trying to flirt

What makes me emo is knowing that R2 was there for literally everyone's adventures and he saw it all and he knows it all but he can't tell anyone :(

MAULLLLLL HELLO SIR ITS V NICE TO SEE YOU

Jar jar is the 8th circle of hell

How tall is Natalie Portman?? because standing next to Liam neeson she looks like she's about 3 feet 4 inches

Anakin's first words to Padme: "are you an angel?" 🥺🥺 Oh-

Watto's neck beard makes me increeeeedibly uncomfortable

Also why doesnt Jedi mind control work on toyardarians?? I have questions

Jesus christ sebulba is terrifying

OBI'S CAPE IN THE WIND SO MAJESTIC I LOVE IT

Okay so at 38:38 into the movie r2 is going into Ani's bedroom and there's a wood carving that looks exactly like Maz Kanata??? 👀👀👀

🥺🥺🥺 3PO and R2 meeting for the first time!!!

Not jar jar eating his food from his plate like a fucking dog please just kill me

Qui-Gon: "I don't know there's just something about this boy." Me about literally anythinf with a pulse and floppy brown hair

C-3PO: "You know, I find that Jar Jar creature to be a little odd." Lol SAME

What is wild to me is that ani's midichlorian count is dummy thicc but it's not talked about enough to be something I remember

MAUL HAS ENTERED THE SCENE THE MAN IS HERE EVERYONE BATTON DOWN THE HATCHES

Qui-Gon to Watto: "Patience, my blue friend." Sksksksk Qui-Gon please

Wait wait wait one of the pod racer announcers is played by one of the guys who was on Whose Line is it Anyway? I just realized! What an amazing show I miss it everyday

That animal farting in jar jar's face lol he deserves it

Also lol why is sebulba so mean to Anakin?? Anakin is like 9 years old. Sebulba is definitely full grown. grow up you fucking loser

I've reached that point in my drinking adventure that I am get very tired so fingers crossed that I don't fall asleep 🤞🏻

Watching this pod race sequence as a child is part of the reason I have so much anxiety now

"Skywalker's spinning out of control!" Lol same

Anakin ate that race tbh

Has anyone written qui gon x shmii content?? because he just put a hand on her shoulder and 👀👀 I am thönking

MAUL V QUI FIGHT SCENE LETS GOO

Listen LISTEN Anakin is like what 9 or 10 in this movie and Padme is ?? 15? 16? No dude. No giving of a necklace and saying "I care for you" absolutely not. JAIL

Palpatine is so good at emotionally manipulating people he must drive a Honda Accord and his favorite movie must be Clockwork Orange

MACE WINDU I SEE YOUUUU YEEHAW

The reveal of Padme as queen doesn't make any sense. Like why?? You could have just waited until it was absolutely necessary bro no need for a dramatic entrace

Anakin too baby to be in battle

Wait is this movie the Star Wars version of the classic man vs technology?? because I'm thinking about the gungans which are very like organic and versus the droids

Also the gungans shield didn't stop the droids from just straight up walking through so like what the fuck is the point guys

YASSSS Maul and Obi and Qui-Gon here we go!!

Seeing maul bust out the double edged lightsaber really made me tingle when I was a young lass

This maul fight is incredibly extra but what else do you expect from the Star Wars franchise

Qui-Gon meditating while waiting for the barrier to fight Maul is absolutely too much

Yay!! the evil donut blows up

IN CONCLUSION

I did fall asleep towards the end there I'm not gonna lie, but ya know, we've all seen this movie before, so.

it was just as horrible as i remembered it but like....i did enjoy falling in and out of sleep as it played in the background so that counts for something right??

#the phantom menace #BIDEN IS PRESIDENT BABY #BOTTOMS UP LADS #drunk rewatch

[romnff-blog]

America’s ass

Pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader (can be platonic or romantic, whichever works for you!)

Warnings: language! somebody’s undies are exposed, fighting (although no serious damages seeing as its mainly playful) & hardly anything else unless you wanna consider humor and a bit of fluff a warning bc in that case you’re in for a treat!

Request: “so what about a steve x fem!reader one where they are both Avengers and they are doing their usual morning routine: running before training, but Steve gets cocky and laps the reader several times and just laughs about it so the reader takes revenge during the training session by showing off her "soooo much better fighting skills" and tries to knock Steve on the ground and it ends with being extremely fluffy and giggly, please? thank you bubs, you da best!!”

A/N: hi! This request is from my dearest, @adoringsteverogers aka an absolute angel, I enjoyed writing this and I actually like how it came out so I hope you enjoy! Go follow her guys! She writes as well (a whole lot better than myself, that’s for sure!) and it’s so good, 10/10 recommend, literally not kidding when I say she’s the absolute best! Thanks so much again for this, I love you so much!

“Oh, come on! That all you got, dollface?” Steve yelled from a good metre’s distance, jogging backwards with ease, almost tauntingly.

“Not to burst your bubble, cap, but not everyone is as physically advanced as yourself,” You practically seethe, causing him to pause for a breather, walking leisurely in your direction as if he hadn’t just gone thirteen laps in just under a minute.

“I mean look at you,” you continue breathlessly, waving a hand in his direction, hunched over and palms gripping your kneecaps as you fail to control your staggering breaths, “you’re like a walking steroid!”

That earned a chuckle from Rogers, “walking steroid, huh?” He parrots with a faux thoughtful expression before speeding off.

What the hell?

Before any burning questions you had could be answered, you noticed Steve’s, once missing, figure speeding in her direction as she continued on her light jog. With a shit-eating grin, he speeds right past you.

“On your left!”

“Bastard!” Y/n yelled loud enough for not only steve, but the rest of the neighborhood to hear—if they were even awake, that is.

Steve makes you wake up at the asscrack of dawn saying it’s “the best time seeing as you’re your freshest in the morning -mind, body and soul- and well-rested. It will help you be ready to take on any and every task. And as a bonus, if you run on an empty stomach, you could burn more fat!” that one earned a fake gasp from you and a playful punch to the shoulder for Steve. He’d chuckle, just the reaction he was looking for.

You’d realized your thoughts had blinded you from the reality that is Steve Rogers being an absolute asshat. Almost like lightning, he’s sprinting past you again, this time laughing his head off to your reaction, almost slowing down from laughing so hard.

You bite your lip to hold back a chuckle. “That arrogant asshole,” you thought, “I’ll show him.”

After about the sixth time he’s lapped you, watching him with an amused expression, you decided you’ve had enough.

“Alright, asshole,” you said, pausing in your movement, exaggerating the second part, “you wanna play, let’s play!”

That got his attention. With the same shit-eating grin as earlier, he’s walking towards you.

“Had enough, sweetcheeks?” He says teasingly, pinching your cheeks as if you were some child.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, you cocky bastard. I want a fair game, not this bullshit. Meet me in the training room in five.” With that she was off, slowing down at the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Wait, y/n! You didn’t tell me, five what? Minutes? Hours? You sure you can even get there that fast?” You can practically here the grin on his face, as if he’d just told the world’s funniest joke.

Idiot.

“Prepare to have your ass kicked, old man!”

**

“Say, y/n, are you sure you don’t wanna back out now? I don’t want to hurt you.” Steve says, pretending to be serious, -you can tell by the way his eyes shine and crinkle at the corners, he’s not- as he rubs his hands together in faux preparation.

“Shut up and fight me already!” You reply as you bounce irritably in your spot, cracking your knuckles.

And with that you’re basically tackling him to the floor. He loses all balance and falls underneath you and between your legs. It’s only a matter of seconds before he’s got one leg straddling your entire front and the other holding himself up. He’s got that signature smug look on his face as if he’s just defeated the world’s toughest villain. Steve’s not as smart as he likes to think he is though. Not with you in his corner.

He’s too lost in your eyes to realize his foot has slipped and he’s laying on his back yet again. You raise an eyebrow, huffing in amusement at his idiocy. You’re straddling his waist for a good minute before he’s got you pinned yet again. After a few rounds of rolling around, seeing who would win for dominance you eventually stand and offer a hand to the sweaty man beneath your feet. He hesitates for a minute before taking it only to earn an unexpected punch to the face and kick to the groin. He groans and lets out a humorless laugh before grabbing your wrist in hopes to knock you off your feet only supporting you to throw yourself back in a flip and landing on his shoulders, straddling the sides of his face with your thighs -and neck with the quads- in a chokehold with your thighs.

“I see nat’s taught–“ he coughs, gripping and tapping your thighs almost in a way of showing he’s surrendered “—taught you her little trick, huh?” Before you can smirk in confidence, you’re being knocked off your feet, landing harshly on the mat.

You can see his figure on top of you as you groan in pain, oh how you wished you could smack that smirk off his face.

Instead, you did yourself one better. While he was too busy attempting to keep his breathing at bay as he laughed his head off at your aggrieved state, you managed to crawl underneath him and take the risqué move of yanking down his pants. You couldn’t control the squeal that left your lips when his true form was revealed to you.

“Y/n!” His voice was high pitched as he attempted to cover up with his massive -clearly not massive enough compared to his...hands.

“ARE THOSE CAPTAIN AMERICA UNDIES I—“ you burst out laughing before you could even finish your sentence.

Steve was quick to get defensive, “LOOK, I HAD NOTHING ELSE TO WEAR, ALRIGHT? CUT A MAN SOME SLACK,”

“THAT DOESNT EXPLAIN WHY YOU OWN A PAIR OF BOXER BRIEFS WITH YOUR FACE PLASTERED ALL OVER THEM.”

“I GOT THEM FROM TONY FOR CHRISTMAS AS A JOKE AND I HAD NO OTHER CLEAN PAIR SO WHAT’D YOU EXPECT?”

You were trying so hard to control your fits but every word he spoke had you in tears.

“Fine,” you lift your hands in surrender, biting back a laugh, “I’m never letting you live this down though.”

“Oh yeah?” He challenges back before throwing himself at you.

He was slick, you give him that, but you were slicker. You were too quick in your actions as you slipped underneath and stuck out your left leg in an attempt to trip him. How easily trick-able he was when he was in a playful mood was beyond you.

You didn’t know whether it was the way his arms flailed in the air before falling backwards or the look on his face and the little shriek that left his lips before falling but whichever it was had you clutching your chest as if your lungs would quit on you any second from laughing so hard.

“You little shit,” he groans as you gasp out a snarky “you kiss your mother with that mouth, cap?” causing you to chuckle, “fine, you win! That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You smiled victoriously, “yes, actually, that’s all I could ever want, thank you!”

Feeling bad after maybe five minutes of watching the man lay with eyes closed, struggling to catch his breath you let your generosity get the best of you.

You kicked his shin lightly to get his attention. He opened one eye and closed it immediately, blushing, almost too embarrassed to open them.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a sore loser now. Here,” you wave your hand in front of him. He’s hesitant but takes it anyway.

Now what you weren’t expecting was for him to throw you to the ground along with him but of course because this is steve, that is exactly what he went for.

You were impressed by his strategy and you, instead of getting angry, couldn’t help but let out the ugliest laugh you’ve ever laughed in your life. This caused Steve to erupt in a fit of laughter as well.

The giggling went on for hours, random things triggering even more laughter which in turn made it so neither one of you would calm as you clutched your stomachs in laughter, all while still being tangled together.

After a good couple of minutes of laying atop of Steve, with your head resting in the nape of his neck in a fit of giggles, all had calmed. Both of you just lay there, engulfed in one another as you move your face to meet his and let out an airy laugh as you smugly reply,

“Can’t believe I really got to witness America’s ass this up close and personal.”

He let out a long sigh, letting his head hang loose before mumbling, “That’s not going away anytime soon.”

#captain america #captain america x reader #cap x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steven grant rogers #marvel #avengers #mcu #im terrible at tags lol #kwrites #black widow #bucky barnes #falcon #hawkeye #hulk #iron man #thor

[maandags]

Eidolon (Angel!Keith x Demon! reader) {part iii}

something resembling peace n  quiet (ish) b4 the real shitstorm yeet

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Summary: Keith is an angel, and he’s completed mission after mission for the Upper Hand, the organisation controlling all of the Above. He’s only failed a mission once: when he was assigned to kill you, a surprisingly charismatic demon. He roamed Earth–Middle Ground–for years before he was caught by the Upper Hand again, and things quickly go south.

Word count: 6.3K

Genre: Angst 

Notes: ft witch!Coran bc he doesnt get enough love -- masterlist -- {previous} -- {next} --

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small-town boy in a big arcade

i got addicted to a losing game

 ~ Arcade, Duncan Laurence

---

His fever isn't going down.

It's been five days and his fever just won't go down.

He's passed out on your couch, waking up occasionally so you can feed him and give him water to drink. Sometimes you have to shake him for minutes at a time just so he wakes up. You tried everything you knew, but the medicine you give him has no effect and the medicine you probably need is nowhere at your disposal.

It's safe to say you have no clue how to proceed and also are frustrated: you're risking everything here. You're risking being found by everything you have been outrunning for years and years. The combined auras of an angel and a demon are the closest thing to a signal flare you know.

And he just might die, and it will all have been for nothing, and you might still be located by Management and you would have to move. Quite bittersweet, you think wryly.

So Keith dying isn't an option. That much is clear. But as you sit in your armchair and glare at him, arms wrapped around the knees you pulled up to your chest, you have no idea as to how you're going to stop it from happening.

You clumsily wrapped him in a blanket when he collapsed on your couch. He's kicked it off since, and it lies in a bundle at his feet. His skin is ashy and pale and sweaty and his hair sticks to his forehead.

And his fucking fever isn't going down.

Usually you'd go straight to a doctor if any of your human friends were to contract a fever this stubborn–but you suspected bringing a dying angel to the average doctor won't do much good except frighten the poor sod to death. He looks like Death, you remark. What with his black wings and overall dark aesthetic, which is quite rare for an angel to have. You think, at least. It's not like you've met lots of them.

You sigh, filling a glass of water and holding it to his lips. He reacts almost subconsciously–he's not quite all there, but he's gulping the water down with gusto and you can only pray to the Dark Below that he'll hold it down, though that did seem to get better the last day or so.

The first two days were a nightmare. Keith tossed and turned and held nothing down, his stomach too upset. You had him spend his second night in your bathtub because he puked all over your couch. When he was asleep (which was most of the time) he had nightmares and whimpered constantly, and when he was awake he had hallucinations, his eyes clouded over. He even tried to attack you at one point ('tried' being the keyword here–he took a most pathetic swing at your face and cried when you dodged it easily).

If you had any common sense, you would have kicked him out long ago–hell, if you had any common sense, you never even would have considered taking him in.

Yet he is here. And you are here. And you don't exactly know how to feel about that.

Half the time you wish he'd just die already so you could be done at least with all of this. The next moment you feel horribly guilty and internally yell at yourself for thinking that way–because you made this choice. You decided to help him, and you should go through with it, even if it meant to be woken up at three in the morning because Keith was wailing again.

You brush your fingers across his forehead, hoping against better knowledge his fever had gone down, but he's still burning up. He's not tossing and turning anymore, he's not throwing up everywhere anymore. The last time he had a nightmare you actually noticed was more than a day ago. His breaths are shallow and irregular, and while you're no doctor, you know that's never a good sign.

You'd almost gotten used to having him in your apartment, and now you barely even notice he's here.

You've been on some extensive phone calls with Allura since Keith flopped into your life (which mostly consist of you yelling and Allura listening, occasionally muttering "go off, sis" into the horn) and you were itching for one now. You pull out your phone. Allura picks up on the third ring.

"Y/N, love, I have time for like, maybe a ten minute rant, because I'm at work and even though it's my break time my co-workers are giving me huge side-eyes and I still have four hours to go–"

"That's okay," you say quickly. "I'm fine, actually. No rants."

Allura pauses. "Sure about that?"

"Positive. I just had a question." You decide to throw in your favourite excuse whenever you have a weird question. As a nurse and your friend, Allura is often your first choice if you need to fact-check anything health-related."I'm writing this story..."

"Ah," Allura says. "Of course. Shoot."

You feel kind of bad for lying to her. But then again, telling the truth isn't really an option here, is it? "What does one do to break a fever that's been going strong for, say, five days, and literally no kind of aspirin is working and you can't take them to a doctor?"

"Huh. Well. All you can really do without, like, medical intervention, is wait, really. Yes, Jane, I'll be done in a minute. Have them sweat it out. Keep hydrated, remove excess layers of clothing, all that jazz. How high of a fever are we talking?"

"Um..." You glance at the thermometer on the coffee table. You'd taken his temperature just before calling Allura, to see if there was any change. Spoiler alert, there wasn't. "41.2 degrees Celcius."

Allura whistles. "For an adult? 'Cause if this is a kid, they have a problem."

"No, no, it's an adult."

"Okay. Well. You know, fevers aren't inherently bad for you. It's actually a way for the body to, like, kill heat-sensitive bacteria and viruses. So it's actually a good thing. Honestly I'm gonna just advise your character to stay in bed and drink water and sit in front of a fan. They should be fine."

You pucker your lips, poking Keith's arm with your toe. He doesn't move. "All right."

"You sound kind of unsure," says Allura, a tinge of concern to her voice. A pause. "Certain this is a fictional character?"

You bite back a curse. "Well. You know. I was–I was just curious."

Allura sighs. You imagine her rubbing the back of her neck as she shakes out her legs. "You know... as a medical professional–" the sarcasm drips from her voice– "I'm not really supposed to, like, recommend these types of methods to people because generally everyone thinks they're bullshit, but..." She hesitates. "My uncle Coran has this shop. He sells lots of weird, like, plants and crystals and crap like that. God, I can't believe I'm saying this. He might be able to help. Here's the address."

You lurch over to your desk and snatch a pencil and a post-it block, scribbling down the address she dictates. "Thanks, Allura."

"You are very welcome, dearest, but I really need to get back to work now. Bye."

"Bye."

You stare at the note for a while after Allura hung up. You don't exactly know the place, but a quick Google search helps you pinpoint it. It's not even that far, maybe a 20 minute walk. But something makes you feel uncomfortable about it.

He sells lots of weird, like, plants and crystals and crap like that.

It definitely sounds like something you should be a bit suspicious of. Plants and crystals. Hm.

But then again, you think as you cast another look at Keith who hasn't moved in over an hour, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, it's not like you have many other options.

Allura said to wait it out. But maybe fevers aren't as harmless on angels as they are on humans. Maybe waiting it out will kill him, and you will have to live with it knowing that you did nothing to stop it.

Grumbling through gritted teeth, you yank your jacket from its hanger, write out a quick note for Keith in case he wakes up (he probably won't, but just in case) and dash out the door.

It takes you surprisingly long to find the place.

What was a 20 minute walk turned to a 30 minute walk, then to an hour long walk. You zoom in on your phone's map, narrowing your eyes and combing through every little alley you passed, gnashing your teeth. No matter how hard you look, the shop simply doesn't seem to exist anywhere but on the map. Is this Allura's idea of a prank?

But that's not like her, you remind yourself. And somehow, the fact that you can't seem to reach the place only makes you want to find it more. So you grit your teeth and clench the note with the address (that you just can't seem to memorize, no matter how hard you try) in your fist and march on.

You round a corner and slam into a tall and lanky body.

You yelp, arms flying out to regain your balance. The person in front of you gives a surprised hum–they don't seem to be fazed at all. You look up, prepared to give them a scolding about how they've got to watch where they're fucking going and blink, all words dying in your throat.

"You okay, kiddo?" says the most eccentric-looking man you've ever seen.

"Uh..." you give your head a shake, trying not to stare at the man's bright orange hair and moustache, or the fact that he's dressed like one of those fortune tellers out of fantasy stories, complete with the huge ornate earrings and everything. "Yeah. Fine. Thanks."

The man's light eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you make a mental note to not let his appearance deceive you: you have the feeling he's much smarter than he looks. "Were you looking for something?"

You clamp your mouth shut, running a hand through your hair. "Hm. Actually. Yes." You frown, wondering if this is a good idea, but if anyone would know where Coran's shop is–the shop selling weird crystals and plants and crap like that–this dude would be it. You hold up the crumpled note. "Do you know where this place is?"

The man takes one look at the writing and smiles, a wide and slightly unhinged grin that has you almost instantly regretting your choice. "Well, I sure would hope I know where my own shop is!"

You try and resist the urge to flinch. "Oh, really?" you squeak, shrinking back. It's not a very demon-like thing to do, you think at the very back of your mind, but this guy looks like he could give even the scariest entities of the Below a run for their money. "Neat."

The man–who you assume is Coran–grins even wider and whips an arm around your shoulders. "Well, then! Let's not beat around the bush any longer!" He has an accent you can't place. It fits him, strangely. Everything about the guy is strange.

He whirls around, dragging you with him, and walks exactly three steps before slamming open the door to the shop on the corner. You frown, ducking out from under his arm and giving him a suspicious glare. "What is this? I've passed this shop at least five times." You glance up at the sign and do a double take. Where had previously hung a sad wooden board announcing a tailor's shop hangs now a weirdly pretty sign that seems to be made out of plants. Vines twisting to and fro and entwining and overlapping, fluorescent yellow-and-blue flowers you have never seen before dropping from it in clumps. It sways slightly in the air. There is no wind.

All the hairs stand up at the back of your neck and your fists clench at your sides.

"Maybe you weren't looking hard enough," comes Coran's amused voice from behind you. You spin on your heels, narrowing your eyes at him. You're not unfamiliar with these kinds of experiences–the supernatural, the unsettling, the technically-impossible–yet Coran manages to throw you off in a way nothing really has before.

The atmosphere around you has dimmed, the sole source of light the doorway and the glowing flowers dangling from the sign. You're not in the alley you were in not one minute ago anymore. Coran raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, and you notice how different he looks in this new environment. He fits here perfectly. The slight curl of his lips says, Well? What are you waiting for?

You think of Keith. How he would react if he were in this situation. If the roles were reversed and you were the one dying on his sofa. You push the door open and march into the shop.

You almost slam directly into a tree.

"Careful, careful," says Coran quickly as he grabs your elbow. He slips past you and leads you into his shop that looks like no other shop you've ever seen.

Shelves are stacked with pots and vials and little baggies, all propped one on top of the other. It looks extremely unstable. You resist the urge to pluck out one jar from the bottom and see if everything tumbles down.

Every price tag is hand-written, and when you take a closer look a chill runs down your spine. One never-before shared secret. Three childhood memories. none of the prices ask for actual money, which now seems pretty useless and weighs down the wallet in your pocket. One particular tag says Your deepest fear. How dramatic.

Every plant seems to glow, for some reason. You notice more of those fluorescent yellow-and-blue flowers like the ones hanging from the sign outside, and flowers that look similar but in different colours. There are plants that remind you of grapevines, snaking around trees and shelves and tangling themselves around every support they can find. Clusters of small transparent bells float from the branches, even smaller flicks of light trapped inside them. You squint at one of them, grabbing it out of the air and studying it closely. Something is fluttering inside of the little sphere. A firefly, maybe. Maybe. When you release it, it zips back to its original spot among the other glowing bubbles.

Coran plucks a few dead leaves from a tree stump partially hidden from view by a huge black-and-white striped candle. He grinds the leaves to dust in the palm of his hand and drops them in the candle's flame. It glows bright green for a moment, then a comforting scent begins to spread through the air. You inhale deeply out of reflex. It smells like nothing you've ever smelled before, vaguely familiar scents all mushed into one; your favourite hot chocolate (with a hint of caramel), Allura's fruity conditioner, the animal shampoo you use on the dogs at the shelter. The air when it's just stopped raining. Towels, fresh out of the dryer.

You blink yourself back to reality with a sharp jerk of your head. Coran is already moving on to the very back of the shop and you hurry to catch up with him, ducking to avoid the arms of a rather sad-looking ragdoll as they reach for you. "Hey, hey–who are you?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Coran."

"Yes, I know that, but like–" you gesture vaguely to the general space around you– "who are you?"

Coran thinks about that for a moment, one finger pressed to the side of his nose. "A hobbyist," he decides.

"Right." You take a step back, eyeing the dark and slimy substance shlorping across the floor towards your feet suspiciously. It shrinks back beneath your glare. "What are those hobbies, exactly?"

"You know," says Coran, waving his arms around, "plants. Medicine. The occasional cursed artifact. Just regular stuff like that."

"Regular stuff like that," you echo. Caws sound from above you. When you look up, you spot a bird slightly hidden in the shadows of the tree in which it is perked (was that tree this big before?), glowing red eyes fixated on yours. You raise an eyebrow at it, cocking your head. It mirrors you, feathers ruffling and swooping from one side of its head to the other. It screams again, then spreads its wings and climbs up the tree with a speed you didn't expect. Literally climbs: there are claws on the joints of its wings that it uses to hack into the tree's bark. You brush a bit of dust off your shoulder and continue walking.

Stepping over the puddle of dark slime, you follow Coran even further into the shop. "You said you do medicine," you shout after him. "I need medicine to save my–" The words hitch in your throat. What is Keith to you? An acquaintance? An enemy? A guest? "My friend," you settle on.

Coran throws you a look over his shoulder, throwing off his ornate blue coat and suspending it in the air where it floats obediently beside him. He plants a hand on a bony hip. "Your friend," he repeats, a glint in his eyes you don't trust at all.

"Yeah." He's not getting more out of you, you assure yourself. That's it.

Coran watches you for a moment. "Hm." He turns around and starts rummaging through the shelves packed with jars and boxes and bottles, pulling out a number that all look the same to you, but evidently Coran knows exactly what he's doing. Occasionally he asks you questions.

"Reasonably high fever, is that right?"

"Yes."

He fumbles for a mortar and dumps a clump of brown-reddish leaves in it.

"Hallucinations? Nightmares? Inexplicable bouts of extreme hunger?"

"Yes, yes, and... no? Not that I know of?"

Humming, he adds a few drops of a clear liquid and a pinch of powder from a leather pouch. The mixture starts to sizzle and you eye it cautiously. Its colour shifts from a muddy purple to a darker blue. Coran whistles through his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the many pots around him as he searches for the next ingredient. His eyes focus on something behind you and he gestures with his pestle. "Grab that round orange pot for me, will you."

You turn. The pot in question is small and kind of hard to spot, and you have to twist your arm in strange shapes to reach it from where it's blocked by other plants and rocks. It's dusty and surprisingly heavy, and when you turn it over there's a crudely painted picture of a skull on the lid. Your head snaps up and your fingers tighten around the pot.

Coran rolls his eyes. "I didn't have any other pot to put it in. I'm not gonna murder your friend."

You hand the pot over to him reluctantly, keeping a close eye on whatever it is he's doing. Inside is a reddish-brown paste, and Coran scoops two heavy spoonfuls out and mixes it into the blue mixture. It becomes a pleasant shade of violet. He grabs a round marble-like thing from a vase filled with similar spheres and chucks it into a fire pit at your feet. Flames burst to life, searing hot and sending you stumbling back from the wave of pure heat that comes rolling over you. Coran puts a lid on the mortar and drops it into the fire.

"So, that's gotta bake for a minute," he says cheerily, spinning around and clapping his hands. He snaps his fingers, and immediately vines begin writhing and entwining until a stool has formed. He plops down, facing you. "You have questions. Ask them. Go on."

"Will you answer them?"

he flashes that wicked grin of his. "Maybe."

You grit your teeth, staring into the flames roaring in their pit. The longer you look at them, the wilder they grow. Agitated.

"Oh, dear, don't look at them. They don't like being watched."

Your gaze snaps back to him. "How did you know what's wrong with my friend?"

"I didn't. I guessed," he adds with an eyeroll when you narrow your eyes at him. "It's easier to guess than you might think. When customers are especially preoccupied with something I can usually read it right off of them. You were no different."

"Right." You pause, not sure which of the hundred and forty questions swirling through your mind to ask next. "What if the medicine doesn't work? Can I come back?"

"It'll work."

"But if it doesn't–"

"Are you doubting my abilities?"

"What? No, but–"

"It'll work."

His tone makes it clear there's no room for discussion. At the sight of his dangerously glinting eyes (or maybe they're just reflecting the flickering flames) you decide to veer onto a safer topic. "Can everyone get into your shop? Why couldn't I find it until you showed me?"

Coran slouches a bit in his throne of vines (it's got a back and armrests now, too, and it's growing those little glowing grapes) and considers the question. "Everyone can technically get into the shop," he says slowly, as if carefully choosing his words, "but not everyone will. It's not hidden, exactly–not to the people who aren't looking."

That confuses you. "So you're saying one won't be able to find the shop if they're actively looking for it?"

"Sort of."

"Does that mean that the people who do find it aren't looking for it in the first place?"

"I guess so? Man, kid, you're asking difficult questions."

"I'm curious." You fold your arms, tucking your chin down to your chest. "And that makes no sense anyway because I found it and I was looking for it. So."

"Yeah, but you didn't find it until you actually ran into me and I showed you." Coran leaps up and stretches out his lanky limbs. "So, we still have a bit of time left before that's ready. Do you want to arrange payment now?"

Caution crept into your veins as you remember the strange price tags you saw upon entering the store. But you're not getting this medicine for free, you remind yourself. Keith won't get better by himself. The price was the price and you're willing to pay it. So you nod.

Coran grabs a box. He opens it, and inside are the last things you expected: stacks of paper, each one scribbled upon with minute precision, every sheet adorned with different handwriting. He hands you a blank sheet: it's about the size of a business card, yellowish-white and kind of grainy to the touch. It reminds you of parchment.

He also hands you a pen. It looks like a regular ballpoint pen, and when you shoot him a questioning look–you had expected at least, like, a quill with purple ink or something–he shrugs. "They're cheap. And easy to charm."

Right. You roll your eyes. "So what's the price?"

His eyes are just a little bit too shiny. "What do you want most?"

You sigh, long and drawn out. Your grip on the pen tightens ever so slightly. "Really? The way too overused one?"

Coran shrugs again, gesturing to the blank card in front of you. "It's overused for a reason, kid. It just happens to work really well."

You clench your jaw, tapping the pen against the wooden surface of the table, forcing yourself to think about the question in a serious manner.

What do you want most?

You rack your brain for an answer, puckering your lips. There are a lot of things you want. You want Allura to be safe and happy. She's got a demon for a friend, for fuck's sake. You want to not have to worry every day about Management finally tracking you down and locking you up in the Below. To feel safe.

You bring the point of the pen down to the paper and start writing, frowning when the ink doesn't appear. You go over the lines a few times, even scribble a bunch of lines in a corner to get the pen to work, but to no avail. The ink stubbornly refuses to stain your piece of parchment.

"Your pen doesn't work," you say, irritated.

Coran casts you a knowing smile. "It works just fine. Try again."

You try again. No results. You throw down the pen, letting your head drop and taking a deep breath as you lean against the desk, because you know exactly where this is going. You have experience with these kinds of enchanted objects. You chew on the inside of your cheek, glaring at the pen as if it personally murdered your firstborn.

It wants the truth.

And you refuse. You refuse to give it what it wants because it's ridiculous. Absolutely and utterly ridiculous.

But this is the price. This is the price you told yourself you would pay no matter what.

A deep breath. One more.

You snatch up the pen, gripping it so tightly your knuckles go white, and press it down onto the paper. Immediately the ink flows out, letting you write your re-evaluated answer. It almost seems to sneer at you and when you throw the pen down, handing the card to a way too smug-looking Coran, you refuse to look him in the eye.

The medicine is ready.

Coran pulls it out of the fire using tongs (because it might be magical fire, but it's still fire, and it's generally not a good idea to stick your hand in fire) and drops it in a tub of water you're sure wasn't there before. A moment later he pulls it out and removes the lid.

The paste has transformed itself into a rock-hard ball about the size of a large pill, perfectly round and kind of rough and sandy at the surface, and when Coran hands it to you it's almost freezing to the touch. It startles you so much that you almost drop it.

"Smash it to bits and put the shards in this here baggie–" he hands you what looks like a tea filter– "and let it hang in a glass of cold water for a while. When the thingie's drained of its colour and goes clear and the water has turned bright blue you make sure he drinks the whole thing before it goes warm, yeah? That's very important. He's gotta drink it right away, and he's gotta drink the whole thing. It might not work as well if he doesn't drink the whole thing."

The fact that Coran refers to the pill as "the thingie" makes you more than a bit uncomfortable, but you decide to take his word for it, because what other choice do you have?

"Right." You turn to leave, when one more thing pops into your mind. "Actually," you face him again, "I have one more question."

Coran sighs. "You have a lot of questions."

You ignore him. "How do you know Allura? Or, rather, how does Allura know you? She's the one that gave me your address in the first place," you explain. "She's my friend."

To your surprise, Coran smiles–a genuine smile this time, where his eyes crinkle in the corners, not the manic grin he's shown up till now. "I knew her father very well. I've watched her grow up. She knows she can always knock on my door."

It doesn't make much sense–what business would Allura's dad, world-famous scientist, have with this man? You decided to give it the benefit of the doubt. "How much does she know? About all this?"

"I think she knows, deep down. I don't know how much she believes. What she tells herself is real, and what isn't."

You hesitate. "Does she know about me? What I am, I mean?"

Coran heaves an exasperated sigh. "Yeesh, kid. How am I supposed to know that? I didn't even know who you were up till now!" But you get the feeling he's lying. "Now get going. Go on." He starts shooing you towards the door, gently pushing you through the shop.

You blink in surprise, too stunned to do anything but follow suit. "Wait," you stammer. "Wait, I have more questions! Will I be able to come back?"

But Coran waves you off, giving you nothing but a smile and a "Bye-bye!"

You stumble over the threshold, the pill and its baggie in your clenched fist. Cold renders your fingers almost numb, and you open them, exposing the pill to the night air. White smoke curls up from it, and you turn it over to your other hand, wincing as you rub your fingers to get a bit of warmth in them again. It's like you're holding a hailstone.

When you look up, you're disoriented by the bright lights from street lamps around you, and the fact that you're not in the same alley you were in before you entered Coran's shop. It's not even the same block. You make a full turn, dazed, before you recognise the little grocery store on the corner of the street: it's the store where you do most of your shopping. It's right across from your apartment building. Coran deposited you as close as he could to your home.

You push open the door to your apartment with your shoulder, icy pill in one hand and two bottles of chocolate milk and scotch whisky in the other, letting exhaustion creeping into your muscles as soon as you enter the familiar environment. One look to your sofa confirms Keith has barely moved over the hours you were gone. The note and the glass of water you left for him sit untouched on the coffee table.

You make your way to the kitchen and set down the bottles, grabbing a small tray on which you drop the pill. Smash it to bits, said Coran. The back end of a kitchen knife does the job just fine. To your surprise, the pill shatters immediately, shards flying everywhere. You curse, sweeping them all up and dropping them into the tea filter and filling a glass with cold water. As soon as you hang the bag in the glass, blue drips out of it in wisps, slowly tinting the water a cool blue colour. You drop onto a kitchen chair and watch with your chin in your hands, the droplets of blue seeping from the bag mesmerising.

When the water doesn't seem to get any bluer, you peek into the bag. The shards are completely colourless, now resembling bits of clear glass more than anything else. You carefully pick up the glass, hissing through your teeth at the coldness of it.

Keith is still fast asleep, shivering. He's thin, you notice. You can see his ribs through his shirt. Setting the glass down on the coffee table, you try gently nudging him awake. He doesn't respond.

"Come on," you grumble, grabbing his face and tapping his cheek. "Wake up!" Your stomach twists at the thought that he might not wake up in time. The medicine will have warmed up. You should have woken him before preparing it! "Please," you whisper, swallowing back the lump in your throat. "Don't let this have been for nothing. Come on. Wake up, dammit!"

He groans under your touch. You breathe out a shaky sigh of relief as you coerce him into sitting up. "Don't you fucking dare fall asleep again." He looks at you groggily.

You raise the glass to his chapped lips. "Drink up."

He takes a sip and flinches, bursting into coughs. "Cold," he manages. You almost wince at how weak his voice sounds–barely a whisper. He'll get better, you remind yourself. He just has to drink this and he'll get better.

"I know," you mutter, nudging the glass to his lips again. "Drink it. It'll make you feel better."

He eyes you suspiciously but obliges, squeezing his eyes shut as he gulps down the contents of the glass. He shivers, smacking his lips when it's empty and you put it on the floor. "Ah. Gross." But as he shifts, you can already see the colour return to his cheeks.

"Rest," you say, brushing strands of hair away from his forehead. "You'll feel better in the morning." Your voice is shaky and your hands tremble as you bring the glass back to the kitchen and thoroughly wash it, using about a quarter of the bottle of dish soap, running it under the hot water until the stubborn cold is completely gone.

You're tired. You don't even have the energy to shower, so you brush your teeth and crumple into bed, only taking off your boots and trousers. You keep your socks on and pull the comforter tighter around you. You're cold.

As you turn to face the wall, you think back to Coran's stupid enchanted pen. Wondering if you've made a mistake. The words you ended up writing down looping through your mind, over and over again, lighting up in front of you whenever you close your eyes. What do you want most?

I want to be safe from Management, was your first answer. The answer the pen hadn't let you write down. And it was what you wanted most–or at least what you wanted most until Keith had shown up on your doorstep just over a week ago.

What do you want most?

You drift off to sleep, the question nagging at the back of your mind.

You jolt awake at the crash, bolting up from your bed and racing for the kitchen, where the sound had come from. In your hand is the knife you keep in your nightstand. Your knuckles are white around the hilt. You slam a hand on the light switch, and the person bent over and hidden behind your fridge hits their head and yells in pain, and you brandish your knife and scream at them to Stay back!

"It's just me! Y/N!" Keith says, holding up his hands above his head.

You huff out a breath, letting the knife drop to your side. "Keith?"

He nods, blinking and squinting against the bright light. You're only barely over the shock of seeing him up and about, yet you can't help but notice how thin he looks and how weary and sunken his eyes are. His eyes keep flicking back to the knife still in your hand, and you quickly snap it shut, slipping it in the pocket of your sweatpants.

"So I take it you're feeling better?"

He nods again. "I'm hungry," he says. His voice isn't quite back to normal–it's still quite hoarse from not having used it in over five days–but you suspect it won't take very long. "Sorry for startling you. I'll go back to sleep."

You grab his arm before he can walk past you. "Nonsense. You've slept for five days straight. I'm hungry too, anyway. I can order takeout?"

He gives you a tentative smile. "That'd be great."

And that's how you end up sitting in your brightly lit kitchen at four in the morning, eating out of cardboard Chinese takeout boxes, with an angel whose life you saved. His wings are completely concealed now and don't bother him when he sits in a chair or lies down. While neither of you talks much, you both sneak glances when you think the other isn't looking.

What do you want most?

He looks nervous, and even though he insists he's not tired you can tell he's fighting against the weight of his eyelids, his movements droopy and slow, as if he's moving through layers of syrup. When he almost drops his fork (at four A.M. you're allowed to eat Chinese with a fork) out of exhaustion, you nudge his leg with your foot under the table.

"Go back to sleep."

"I'm fine. I'm still hungry."

"You can eat tomorrow. You're barely able to hold yourself upright, idiot."

He sighs but pushes his chair back and stands up. His knees immediately buckle beneath him, and you shoot out of your chair and only just manage to catch him before he drops to the ground. "All right, okay. There we go. I got you."

"Not feeling as good as I thought," Keith mutters into your shoulder as you practically drag him to the sofa.

"Evidently."

You tuck him in (it seems like such a childish gesture–but curled up like that, looking thin and fragile, Keith reminds you of a small kid and it just feels like the right thing to do) and resist the weird urge to plant a kiss on his forehead. You settle for a somewhat awkward pat on the shoulder.

You stick the leftover food in the fridge and make your way back to your own room. You're still kind of cold, so you keep the sweatpants and sweatshirt on, bringing the knife out of your pocket and setting it back on your nightstand before climbing into bed.

The buzzing of the city outside of your window keeps you up for hours as you toss and turn. Feelings you don't know what to make of churn through you. Relief at the fact that the medicine seems to be working. Fear, because you don't really know how to proceed now. A demon saving an angel's life–that one's pretty much unheard of, you think bitterly.

Oh, if Management were to find out... not only would your fate be settled, you would have signed Keith's death warrant along with it. The comforter bunches in your clenched fists and you twist around, shutting your eyes resolutely.

What do you want most?

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Dreams Come True...and Nightmares do Too.

Request: Can you do one where you are Cas sister and Dean keeps having really bad dreams about you. He doesnt know what to do so cas helps and he finally finds you? Btw, I LOVE YOUR blog!!!

Requested by: @mrsackles101

Warnings: Language, horror

Y/H/C: Your hair color

Information from: http://the-demonic-paradise.wikia.com/wiki/Surgat

It always starts out the same. A beautiful girl sound asleep in her home, limbs completely covered by the blanket that was too orderly. Not a single wrinkle was on it and the girl was straight as a board. It was almost as if the bed was made around her. Curious if the pounding thump he heard was coming from female in the bed, he took a single step forward but stopped when a creak sounded from the corner. Hunter instincts took over the green-eyed Winchester, causing him to whip around fast enough to make his head spin. There, standing next to the female's bed, was a shadow figure with knifes for fingers, long, sharp, and dangerous. Dean was frozen in his spot by the entity before his eyes. That's when he realized that the sound of a fist on a drum was his heart ready to rip out of his chest.

"W-What do you want?" Dean would stutter out, his face pale and hairs raised. The power jolting from the monster was enough to power up an entire village. Ever so slowly, it raised a crooked finger and pointed to the sleeping human. "Her? Why her?" Even though the shadow never spoke, Dean kept prompting it with questions, seeing more red grow into his vision with each one. "Tell me, you son of a bitch!" Pain jolted through his head as a blood curdling scream erupted from the figure, but his finger never pointed in another direction.

Beneath the scream the words, "possess the girl," could barely be heard but it sent chills down his spine as he fell to the floor. Then....silence. He thought it was over...but when was a nightmare ever over? When you're someone like Dean, you fall asleep and a nightmare begins, but when you wake up it continues instead of ending. With no warning, the windows shattered as the sounds of hell rattled the walls. Screams of pain, torture, and fear mixed with the sobs of the damned as they were engulfed by the never ending flames.

Finally, Dean would wake with a start....only to have that same dream when he fell asleep later that night. Sweat soaked his clothes and tears streaked his face. Only one thought lingered in his mind each and every morning... What the hell was going on?

First, he tried to figure it out on his own. Many sleepless nights of researching for past possessions and anything that looked like the shadow figure in his dreams. Unfortunately, there was no break in the case. As much as he didn't like it, he tried sleeping as often as he could in hopes the dream would reveal something more. The only thing he received, though, was a better glimpse at the sleeping girl, but, after that, he woke up screaming, "help me!" And that...that is where it all began... 

                                               __________________

Sam busted into his brother's room, gun cocked and loaded. "Dean?" he yelled out, hitting his breaks when he saw Dean squeezing the sheets and panting. It was just a nightmare....? Gently, he sat on the edge of the bed and shook him. "Hey, hey, Dean, wake up...Dean! Dean, wake up!" Dean's body flung up straight, eyes wide and searching. "Dean, you're safe...Hey, you're safe..."

"W-We got to find her," Dean panted. "We have to find her!"

"What? Who? You're not making any sense!"

Shoving Sam's hands off of his shoulders, his feet hit the floor and carried him to his closet. As usual, he put on his normal attire, flannel and jeans, before grabbing his boots and phone. "Y/n..."

"Who?" The youngest Winchester followed his brother to the library, barely keeping up. "If you would just slow down-"

"We don't have time to slow down, Sam! If I don't find this girl, she is going to die! Horribly!" He slammed a large book down onto the table and began flipping through the pages as if he was timed, mumbling something to himself over and over again. But then....he stopped, froze in his place. "Surgat....Sam, have you heard of this name?"

He shook his head. "No, but-"

"Exactly," Dean interrupted, "That's because he's the lesser demon in the Inferno. It says here that Surgat is cunning and deceptive making him the most frightening and dangerous. Also know as "One Who Opens All Locks", reflects his nature and purpose, being able to understand and open any lock in the world. This makes it impossible for his targets to hide or escape from him. He thrives in dark places...the realm he is most fond of. Once he reaches his target, he will frighten them by presenting them with images that will drive them to madness....this is him..."

Sam, now absolutely baffled, was at a loss for words. "Who, Dean? Where did you see him!"

"My dream, damnit! This demon is after a girl named Y/n, and she's crying out for help! It makes sense though! In my dream, the room was pretty much pitch black and he came out of a locked closet. Screaming and-and crying! And the windows shattered! Y/H/C hair and beautiful facial features! And- Sam! Are you writing all this down?"

"What? No!" he exclaimed. "Dean you need to take a breath! We can't help you and you can't help that girl if you're running circles in your mind."

A soft sigh escaped his lips and collapsed into his seat. "Sam, something is going on...This girl...it's like I've seen her before...that face...I can't get it out of my mind."  Silence filled the room and for a split second, chaos was gone. Of course, it never lasted because everyone's mind was reeling for answers. Who ever got an idea, announced it out loud without a second guess. "Get Castiel. He can do his freaky angel shit and scan the world for every girl named Y/n."

"Do you realize how many girls will come up!" Sam shouted, exasperated.

"There are three of us! We can do it!"

"Fine, I'll call Cas, but Dean, it'll be too late-"

"Don't you dare say that! We will and can help this girl if Cas can get his feathery ass down here-"

A sudden change in the atmosphere cut the tension tenfold. The air seemed cooler and a slight breeze entered the room, blowing Sam's hair into his eyes. "You prayed?" a deep voice asked from behind the brothers. Castiel...finally.

Wasting no time, Dean jumped right into the situation. "Find every woman with the name of Y/n."

"I beg your pardon?" The angel's head tilted to side as his eyes squinted. Jokingly, everyone said that he looked like a confused puppy, but seeing it as often as the Winchester brothers did, they began to really see it.

"Females with the name of Y/n! Y/C/H hair!"

Castiel sighed....before pulling a picture out of the small wallet he kept his fake IDs in. All the color drained from Dean's face when he saw the picture. It was her. There was no mistaking it. Those features...the hair...and now that he finally saw her eyes...it was like the puzzle finally pieced its self together. Even in the picture, her eyes glittered.

"Cas...that's her! How did you know?" Dean gasped out. The gears in his mind were reeling. Did the nerdy little angel read his mind or was this a dream in itself? Everything seemed like fiction recently anyways.

"Her name is Y/N Novak...Jimmy Novak's sister. Considering he let me use him as a vessel, I promised to keep his family safe. I consider her my own sister. I keep watch over her on a weekly basis, but I haven't gotten any alarming vibes. Which makes me wonder, why are you getting them?"

Dean sighed and shrugged. "Who the hell knows, but we have to get to her. Now."

                                               ____________________

With sleep closing in on you quickly, it took all you had to walk yourself into your bed room. Without thinking twice about it, you checked the chain around your closet door. Thank god; it was still locked. The reason behind the chain and lock on your closet door? Easy. During the middle of the night, the creaking of the doors opening would wake you. The room was pitch black, so it was impossible to see anything, but the energy you felt in the room let you know you weren't alone. Eerie was an understatement. It was more like shitting bricks scared.

A quick pull on the chain and you hopped into bed, neck deep in covers. After a long day like today, it didn't surprise you that you were out cold the moment your head hit the pillows. The amount of cleaning and errands that piled up earlier in the day took all the energy from you and the mattress was calling your name. In fact, you were so tired, you didn't even hear the front door being kicked down...or the chain bounding the closet fall to the floor as the doors creaked open once again.

Slowly, Dean opened your bedroom door and chills erupted on his body. He had seen this too many times...This...this was the beginning of his nightmare. The loud beating was there, as well as the shadow figure with its crooked finger. Pieces began to connect with other pieces as the nightmare came back to haunt him. The pounding drum wasn't just his heart, but rather a mix of his brother's fist against the locked door and the pounding of the organ keeping him alive.

When the hell did the door lock? Before he could continue to think, his mouth was open and he was speaking as if he was a puppet on a string. Why I am so shocked? I've seen this before. I know exactly what is going to happen next.

"W-What do you want?" Dean stuttered out. The figure slowly pointed to you, the sleeping angel according to Dean. "Her? Why her?" Just like in the dream, the figure never spoke but the Winchester kept on going, his blood boiling. "Tell me you son of a bitch!"

And then, there was the ear piercing scream that brought the grown man to his knees wincing in pain. "Possess the girl," the demon spat underneath his scream. Just like Dean predicted, silence followed, but this time he was prepared for the next wave of sounds. The shattering of the windows didn't startle him and the raging screams from the damned souls in hell didn't make him want to curl into a ball trembling. I've been there before, he told himself. They have nothing on me.

What he didn't expect, though, was his nightmare to finish out. Your eyes shot open in fear as your mouth let out a scream. Without making a sound, the figure had snuck over to you and grasped both side of your face with its freezing cold hands. Long fingers forced your mouth open, but before it could fully transform into mist and slither down your throat, one simple word stopped all action.

"Surgat.." Dean panted out. "I know your name you evil son of a bitch! I know your name!"

Surgat screamed out knowing it was partially defeated. Seemingly all its power drained from him, but the demon wasn't ready for the fight to end. He knew his own power. He knew that Dean was nothing more than a puny human; dog shit on the bottom of his shoe, even.

What no one knew, though, was what the blinding white light that filled the room was. Trying to peek, Dean nearly burned his retinas so he only prayed that you had closed your eyes at the right time. So this is how the nightmare ended, Dean thought to himself.

In the blink of an eye, the blinding light was gone and the room was left in perfect condition. It was as if nothing had even happen which was a load of absolute bullshit. On the edge of the bed, though, was Castiel hugging you tightly. His arms swallowed your trembling form, but it still wasn't enough to rid the horrible images in your head.

"Cas, the hell was that?" Dean asked, slowly picking himself off the floor.

"Archangels. Gabriel, Michael, and couple others." Gently, his hand stroked your hair as tears streaked your face.

"C-Cas?" you stuttered out. "Did you change your name, Jimmy?"

Sam, who was allowing Dean to lean on him for support, looked at the angel with his brows knitted. "You didn't tell her?"

"Tell me what?" Worried, you looked up at your brother. "Tell me what, Jimmy!"

The angel sighed and pulled away from the embrace. "Y/n, Jimmy is no longer here...My name is Castiel, and I am angel of the Lord. Your brother was generous enough to let me use him as a vessel. I was going to tell you sooner, but-"

"You just didn't know how," you finished for him. You had waited years to see him again and here was your chance, so why ruin it by freaking? It was still your brother...well...kind of. It was still his body, but just a different soul. The shock of what just happened was the only thing keeping you together. Once that wore off...you didn't want to be alone.

"Exactly," he sighed.

Dean walked over like he was stepping on thin ice just to get a better look at you. "How did you reach out to me?" was all he could manage to get out of his dried throat.

"What do you mean?" When those green eyes fell into view, it took all your self control to not get lost in them. I've seen those before...

"I've been having nightmares about you...I've watched this play out in my head over and over again..."

Your face turned as white as the sheets. "I-I've been having dreams about you too..."

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