#they said they'd ve back by now

[irishmammonagenda]

Death is a Debatable Thing-Obey Me x Reader

Summary: MC died 😱 and reincarnated as an angel, as per usual; chaos ensues. Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: Mention of Death, Cursing, Torture (mentioned, no torture happens) Michael is featured heavily in this, I just made up a personality for him, I don't play NB a lot (it makes me too sad) and I think he shows up there so if this is different to how he's portrayed there then L for me. Everyone except Luke was written as and can be read as Romantic(/platonic if you prefer)You can read Michael as Romantic, but I wrote him more Platonically.

post dividers from @saradika-graphics on tumblr (their dividers r really cool check them out if u havent fr (sorry for tagging you btw i just wanted to give credit)

"Absolutely not." You say, looking at your new found wings. "I did not die just to be reincarnated with the ugliest clothing I've ever seen."

"Would you have preferred to have been reincarnated as bare as Eve was in Eden?" The man you'd come to know as Michael. His dark skin shone in the blessed light of the celestial realm, his thick curly hair was pinned back in such a delicate fashion you wanted to unpin all the ornaments in it. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

"Isn't that against modesty rules or something...?" You paused, Simeon was an angel, he essentially had his ass out at all times anyway. Whore.

Michael stares at you weirdly, before playing with one of the loose strands of his hair, pulling the tight coil until it was completely straight before letting go and letting it spring back up again. Now you really wanted to mess up his hair. Just to annoy him.

"So anyway..." You start, sitting on a cloud that you fall through. For a moment you think you're about to pull a Lucifer and fall through the sky, but you manage to grab onto something and pull yourself up. That something is Michael's ankle and he's laughing at you, wiping a tear from ruby red eyes that shine just like that of his fallen brother.

"Stop laughing at me! Anyway, when can i go to the Devildom?" You inquire, watching Michael's face turn stern. He glares down at where you're lying, still gripping his ankle

"You're not returning to the Devildom anytime soon." He says sharply.

Your breath hitches. "Why not?! I have to let the brothers and Dia and Barbs and Sol and everyone else know I didn't die!"

"You did die. Why do you think you're an angel." Michael sighs, "and no. You're not letting them know you've returned."

"Why not?!" You repeat, outraged. "No offence though MC, but you´ve just died." "So?" You reply with indignation. "So," Michael says in a mocking tone, pitching his deep voice up high before letting it fall down the octaves once more. "You're barely able to walk on clouds or do anything yet. Letting you down to the Devildom is the equivalent of sending a baby bird into a den of lions."

"But...they'd protect me." You said softly, Michael's tone softens as well, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"They'd also over-protect you, they've just lost you. I don't think you're ready for that smothering just after your death."

You nod. Michael's soft expression turns devious, "Plus, this way, you have plenty of time to think about how youre going to scare my broth-...the brothers and everyone else whilst proving you're alive...well an angel..."

You grin too. "Amazing point Mr Michael."

He plays with his golden locks again, an idiosyncracy. "Anytime" He grins before beginning to walk again, you grab onto his ankle tighter. "Oh and Mc?"

"Yeah?"

"Call me Mr Michael again and I'm shaving all you hair off. And trust me. Angel hair does not grow back." He smiles evilly. You shudder.

Well it turns out Michael is a fucking liar.

After being a little bit too bored during your second month of being an angel and first month of learning not to fall through the clouds in Michael's private garden that consists purely of clouds and a singular harp he stole from some poor Irish Deity, you go bored and snipped your unnaturally long angel hair up to your waist. You didn't want to go too short just yet.

In the time frame of a week you learnt two things.

One: Angel hair does grow back, maybe a tiny bit faster than human hair, and Two, Michael was babysitting the harp. Turns out the Deity was called the Dagda and he was visiting France on holidays for some reason, poor man, having to go to France and deal with all the French People there. Turns out he left the harp in Michael's hands, something about Fomoranians not being smart enough to see this one coming.

You just nodded and slowly backed away. Michaels red eyes followed you. He and Lucifer had to be twins.

Another day passed. The more you thought about it, the more Michael and Lucifer had to be twins. After having cut your hair to just below your shoulders, you found a piece of unnecessarily fancy parchment paper and a quill on Michael's desk

Holding the black quill in your hands you felt a sense of familiarity wash over you. Was that?....

No fucking way.

Michael was using one of Lucifer's feathers as a quill. You cackled.

After much deliberation you'd realised you could not write with a quill, but also that you were very good at ripping paper and making blotches of ink on said paper with a quill.

You decided to snoop in Michael's desk for a pen, instead you found a drawer titled, 'LUKE ONLY' in cursive letters, the label was stuck to the drawer so obviously you opened it.

Colouring books, letters written by Luke from the Devildom, Report Cards, Crayons, Drawings, and a pack of stickers were left in the drawer, a notepad lay next to it, Michael's cursive handwriting all over it 'Activities to do', it had things like 'Bowling' and 'Baking' and 'Gardening' and 'Teach him how to knit' and 'Arts and Crafts' and 'Prank Jesus' and 'Take him to Human Realm Cinema' and and anything else really. You cooed, your ivory wings rustling happily.

You grabbed a crayon and began to write.

WHY MICHAEL AND LUCI ARE TWINS one; same eyes two; both evil three; both hot four; satan is basically luci's son if you think about it and michael has blond hair too, if luci and michael are twins that means that blond hair is in the gene pool and thats how satn has blond hair even though luci has black hair five; both like wearing dramatic cape coat things six; both of them baby luke seven; they ha

"What are you doing?" Michael asks, startling you, and ruining your next point of 'they have hands', "Why is my drawer open?" He grabs the parchment from you, reads it and bellows out in laughter.

"We are twins you could've asked." He smiled, "also put the crayon back thats Red and Luke likes colouring in Teddy Bears red."

"Yessir."

You were a master conspiracy theorist.

In the end, you and Michael had decided on visiting the Devildom for 'diplomatic' reasons, but upon seeing the glint in his eyes it was probably more for 'dicklomatic' reasons seeing as he's an utter dickhead.

You had a veil covering your face, seeing as you were still kind of legally and widely believed to be dead.

You know, the usual.

You walked behind Michael, attempting to kick at the back of his knees, it never worked sadly. You took a deep breath as you reached the RAD council room doors.

Michael grabs you by your shoulders whispering into your ear. "Now remember MC im going to use you as a bargaining tool, so keep that veil on till i say so, got it?" He grins.

You nod, knowing that 'bargaining tool' in Michaelish translates to 'im bored and want to see a dramatic reunion'

Michael opens the doors.

You walk in with him but stand at the door awkwardly, steeling yourself so you don't immediately run into any of your idiots' arms.

Luke apparently had the same idea, as when he saw Michael, he let out a happy 'yip!' kind of sound similar to a puppy's and then ran from where he stood beside Simeon and Solomon into the Archangel's arms.

Michael catches him happily, petting his head as the young angel nuzzles into his hair, blabbering on about who knows what. Asmo takes a photo of it, everyone else stares with varying levels of fondness, awkwardness and 'meh'.

Sadly for you however, once Simeon is done greeting Michael, and Michael is now distracted by Luke introducing him to Barbatos who is apparently the 'bestest baker in the world!' (you could agree with that sentiment), Simeon walked over to you, his serene smile on his face.

"Hello, I'm Simeon, forgive me for asking, but do I know you? You have a familiar aura."

You shake your head.

"Oh, never the matter" Simeon smiles, "What's your name then. my friend?"

You clear your throat and put on a deep american accent, "Rupert...Pleasure to meet you...Simeon.."

"Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"Certain." You say in the same ridiculous voice.

Simeon nods, he excuses himself after Solomon calls him over, you turn to glance at Michael who is carrying a now sleeping Luke in his arms and gently stroking the boy's golden hair while stressing out Lucifer with questions. Satan looks on with a smirk on his face.

Glancing around the room you see similar scenes, Mammon and Levi are playing a game on the latter's switch, Asmo, Solomon and Simeon are talking, sometimes glancing at you. Barbatos and Diavolo were watching Michael annoy Lucifer, with both sometimes adding their input, causing Michael to laugh loudly then stiffle it, so as not to wake up the sleeping baby in his arms. Beel and Belphie were near the others but still off in their own twin world, Belphie was awake and watching Michael bully Lucifer from where his head laying sleepily on his twin's leg.

Raphael, Thirteen and Mephisto had been sent out on a top secret mission the day before, Michael had said it was because he didnt want to die and also did not want his death to be put in the RAD Newspapers, especially a picture of him that was less than flattering.

Even though everyone seemed joyous, you noticed an air of sadness, like something was missing. Looking at your old seat in the student council you see the amount of flowers set on it.

Against your better judgement, you walk towards it. Not noticing a few pairs of eyes following you.

When you reach your former desk, you notice a photo of you framed, it was you and everyone, a family photo, everyone was either in their demon, angel or reaper forms, you wore really cheap red horns with a halo you shoved on one of them whilst also wearing an old reaper robe. It looked ridiculous, you loved it.

"Enjoying yourself? Rupert.~" a honeyed voice startles you. Asmo, although, somethings in his voice, maybe anger, maybe suspicion.

"Uhhh.." You say in your fake american accent.

"I'm Asmodeus, avatar of lust.~ Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Guess so." You shrug Americanly, thankful once more the veil covers your whole face.

Asmo's eyes have some hurt in them, he seems...catty, probably because you, who he thinks is a random stranger is just standing at his dead loved one's desk.

L.

You open your mouth to say something, but no sound comes out, especially not when another familiar voice is added to the mix.

"Well hello. I don't believe we've met before. The name's Solomon. You must've heard of me."

Oh shit.

"Oh...I have, briefly! Hello Solomon, my name's Robert." You say in your fake deep american accent voice.

Asmo tilts his head, "I thought your name was Rupert?"

Shit.

"Oh. Yes" You quickly bullshit, "My name's got the hyphens, Robert-Rupert." You avoid eye contact despite the fact you have a veil covering your face that only lets you see out of it, so the sorcerer and demon can't even make eye contact with you, even if they wanted to.

This was getting awkward.

"You seem very familiar Robert-Rupert." Solomon says, you did not like that crafty smile.

"I get that a lot." You nod before walking away.

You walk towards Michael who, has a now awake but sleepy Luke in his arms, he sits on one of the sofas in the council room beside Simeon, with Barbatos, Diavolo and Lucifer facing them on the other sofa. Atleast you'll be safe from Solomon over here. As you walk, you notice Satan, Beel and Belphie have left. Either Lucifer was going to get pranked or Lucifer was going to get pranked but not as prankily because Beel unknowingly made puppy-eyes. Mammon and Levi were bickering quietly in a corner (shocking they could do it quietly) about who won the lat round of Devilio kart.

When Michael saw you approaching he waved you over, beckoning you to sit down in the empty space beside him, "This is an angel I'm currently training, their name is.....Steven."

Simeon tilts his head "I thought their name was Rupert?"

Michael clears his throat awkwardly.

You make your voice the deep horrible American accent, "My full name is Robert-Rupert-Steven...it's hyphenated."

Michael nods aggressively.

Lucifer, Simeon, and Barbatos side-eye eachother. Something was going on here.

"So, Robert-Rupert-Steven," Barbatos begins, his polite smile a little jagged at the edges, "I saw you at MC's desk earlier, how so?"

At the mention of your actual name, everyone there tenses up, Luke, thankfully is too sleepy to have realised, Michael quickly stands up with the small angel in his strong arms, knowing if he heard the conversation about to occur he would be upset, "I should probably go, give this one a walk around to wake him up a little. Simeon, would you like to come with me?"

Simeon nods, Michael and Him leave the council room, with Luke sleepily holding both of their hands and walking slowly along with them.

Now you were stuck with the Prince of the Devildom, the Scary Butler and the Scary Single-Dad. All of which haven't realised that it's you, and all of which thinking you are a random stranger.

"Well, Robert-Rupert-Steven?" Diavolo asks, his friendly demeanor the tiniest bit strange,"What captivated you to go towards MC's desk."

"Who's MC?" You decide to play it dumb. Bad decision, seeing as all three stiffen, Barbatos' being the most unnoticeable.

A very long 3 hour conversation went by, wherein, Diavolo, Lucifer, Barbatos as well as a certain Mammon and Levi who joined 10 minutes in, and an Asmo and Solomon who joined 12 minutes in talked about you, for 3 hours straight.

'AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.' was an accurate reprenstation of your mental state actually.

The urge to just rip your veil off right there was almost stronger than the urge to dropkick Maddi anytime you remembered she existed. Keyword being almost.

You just about made it out of the council room with your life. Now for your master plan. Scare the absolute shit out of the Anti-Lucifer-League. That'll get them back for never listening to your amazing prank suggestion of leaving random origami swans around the house in random spots. It was genius!

Breaking into the House of Lamentation was always easy when you knew that Mammon hid his emergency house key behind the garden gnome that now you saw it....kind of looked like a really bad rendition of Michael. With its dark skin, A DnD-esque robe and, a horrible smiley face painted on it, and the worst crime of all, bright yellow, almost neon hair, and also a princess tiara.

You almost cackled.

Taking the key you slowly open the door to the kitchen and sneakily sneak in. Sadly for you, it was they key to the kitchen door to the outside of the back of the house, which meant it opened in the kitchen, and since it opened in the kitchen, you awkwardly waved at Beel, who was having a midnight feast.

Beel tilts his head. "You're the Angel from earlier. What are you doing here?"

You once more, fake your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice and say, "I have Materials for the Anti-Lucifer League as they've suggested."

You are such a good liar.

"Oh," Beel nods, normally he wouldn't let a stranger into the house, but something felt...familiar...and safe with you. "Okay then, do you know where you're going?"

"Yes."

Beel nods, and goes back to eating the pudding labelled 'MAMMONS: BEEL DONT TOUCH THESE'

After much searching, you do not find the Anti-Lucifer-League, but you do unfortunately, open the door to Lucifer's office. The place where Lucifer currently is.

He looks up immediately on guard. You are not prepared to die a second time,

"What are you-" He begins, in demon form and standing up.

You interrupt him, making 'woooooh!' sounds and waving your arms about, and in your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice, you say "Wooooh! I am the....ghost of christmas past!...Woooh! and I am..." You pause, not noticing your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice has began to slip away, and your natural one has taken its place. "I am here to tell youuuuu.....to woohhhh! Take breaks more! Woooh!....and not overwork yourself! Woooh!"

Lucifer pauses, the danger in his eyes fades into disbelief. He knows that voice. He's spent the better part of a year listening to recordings of that voice and praying to his Father for the first time since the celestial war for that voice to return to him.

"..MC?.."

You've been found out. Quickly you put your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice back on, except it's gone up 12 pitches. "Who's MC?! Haha! What a weird thing to sa-"

You don't get to finish, as Lucifer pulls your veil off. His breath hitches upon seeing your face.

Your covers been blown. All because you pretended to be the ghost of Christmas past. Great.

Lucifer immediately pulls you into a hug, arms tightening around you, as if he's afraid you'd disappear. He chuckles, wiping tears from his eyes, his frame shakes. "I thought-thought I'd lost you forever...I always thought your face was angelic...-...it's fitting."

You hug him just as tightly.

But ever the menace, after about an hour or so, you look up at the Avatar of Pride, "Say, Luci?"

"Yes, my dove?"

"Wanna help me prank the rest of them?"

"Perhaps...I might help with...some setups..." He pauses, "You are telling Barbatos outright though."

You shudder. "Of course I am. I don't have a second deathwish."

Lucifer's grip on you tightens slightly, you kiss his cheek in apology. "Sorry," You grin, "Too soon?"

"Try again in another century dear."

The next day, the first thing you and Lucifer do is travel to the Demon Lord´s Castle.

Barbatos greets you in the Entrance Hall, "Oh, Lucifer," He nods in greeting at the eldest of the brothers (second eldest actually, seeing as Michael enjoys bragging that he's older by a whopping total of 2 minutes) he turns to you, who put the veil back on, "And Robert-Rupert-Steven, Welcome to the Demon Lord's Castle, although, I must ask, why you have shown up today?"

In your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice, you accidentally, against your better judgement, and rather impulsively state; "I'm here to assassinate Dia-...volo."

A portal opens, dragging you through it, and you land in the feared rumoured dungeons. Barbatos follows gracefully, now in Demon Form. Leaving a sighing Lucifer in his wake in the Entrance Hall. He decides to just journey to Diavolo's office and discuss things related to work. Barbatos wouldn't hurt you when he found out it was you so he really had nothing to worry about. Maybe you'd finally learn to stop joking about assassinating Diavolo, especally when other Noble Demons were around at Balls.

Sadly for you, you were now alone in Barbatos' Dungeons. Now what's scarier than being alone in Barbatos' Dungeons? Being alone with Barbatos in Barbatos' dungeons.

Time to run away.

As it turns out, running away isn't very easy when magic chains pin you to the wall. In your panic, you blurt out, "You know, I'd rather you pin me to the wall haha!" in your normal voice. The fear forcing your horrible puns and jokes to slip out.

Barbatos, who had been approaching menacingly calmly with a torture device pauses so fast it gives you whiplash. (Better than getting whiplash from the whip he was previously holding.)

In some display akin to a cockroach kind of squirming about after you crush it, in your chained up state you manage to twitch enough that you were able to pinch a piece of your veil's fabric just enough that it falls to the ground.

Immediately, the magic chains fall away, strong arms catch you as you stumble. "Hi Barbs..." You say breathlessly.

Barbatos looks like he'd seen a ghost. (You were an Angel, thank you very much.) After your death he had tried and tried to pull a you from another dimension. It would never work, some force stopped him each time. (To be fair, it was probably your jealous ass. No way in Diavolo were you being replaced by yourself from another dimension.)

His bottom lip trembles, much like the rest of his body, as he leans in, "May I, my dear?" You nod, giving him your consent as he kisses you so gently, as if he feared you would break or fade away.

He murmurs apology upon apology for the fact he had no doubt frightened you, he couldn't risk a threat to Diavolo, your 'death' had left him a little...tethered and emotional.

You close your eyes and kiss him again, now noticing you're in the kitchens and not in the spooky scary dungeon.

"Wanna bake cookies? Like we always used to do?"

Barbatos nods softly. "You do have to tell Lord Diavolo you're actually alive though, little lamb."

Your eyes light up. "We could make a cake! And hide me inside it!"

Barbatos sighs, but looking at your puppy eyes, he agrees. Gently he picks a stray ivory feather from your wings, making them rustle at the touch. Devil...you looked angelic.

Baking with Barbatos was always fun, but sadly he did not agree with your attempt at throwing flour at him.

"MC?" He catches your attention, bringing an ungloved hand to caress your face, "Have I ever told you that you shine brighter than all the stars in the Devildom?"

You blush and try to cover your face when he turns away to add more eggs into your batter only to find flour on your face. That sneaky bastard! Psychological warfare is illegal. And that sure felt like it.

It was on.

Apparently it was only on for you though. Though you did get a speck of flour on Barbatos' apron. That was a win, especially if you ignore the fact that your face and apron were covered in the white powder, which you were ignoring! So take that Barbatos!

In the end, the cake was beautiful, Barbatos helped you into the cake, and cut out a you shaped hole out of the layers made.

He then helped you out again, and the Flour War began again only this time with icing.

Hiding in a cake is quite a fun experience. Especially when you can take bites of your hiding space. Yum yum.

You feel Barbatos' wheeling of you stop as he reaches Diavolo's office, he knocks on the door, and as you requested, begins to film on his DDD (you had to promise the video would never get out of your hands.)

Diavolo sat alone, Lucifer had had to leave an hour before, Beel had went on a rampage in Hell's Kitchen again apparently.

"My Lord, I feel you have been feeling down, so here is a treat." Barbatos says, "And as a special treat, I will allow you to cut it yourself." He nods at Diavolo who you can just picture has stars in his eyes as you hear the demon butler walk to a corner of the room, still filming.

Diavolo brings the knife to the cake, as it cuts into it, you grab the blade and pull it forward. Upon hearing Divaolo's confused murmurs, You peek through the tiny hole the knife made, seeing Diavolo distracted, tilting his head like a child and asking Barbatos what he should do now.

You however know what you should do now.

Quick as a flash, you shove your hands through the cake, reach for Diavolo's arms and pull him in face first.

You didn't even care if it was probably treason. Diavolo's suprised screaming and Barbatos' slight surprised chuckle was so worth it.

It was worth it for Diavolo even after 4 hours, as he held you in his big arms, whilst the both of you were still covered in cake. Barbatos, the traitor, snapped photos of this and sent them to Lucifer.

On a great note, Diavolo agreed to help prank the rest of the brothers with you, much to Barbatos' dismay. (The butler was definitely going to help you with a certain sorcerer, however)

After a night and day at the castle and a very extensive bath, you recollected your veil, and snuck out (read: Barbatos and Diavolo waved goodbye to you and gave you some left over cake for the journey home) of the castle, you began your walk to Purgatory Hall.

Michael was staying there, and you needed to tell him everyone's reactions so far.

It was also a Saturday, meaning that Solomon would be out in Sorcerer's society meetings all night and morning.

When you got there you made use of the tree there and climbed up it until you saw something in Luke's room. You paused your climbing and looked in through the window.

Two figures were in the Young Angel's room.

As Luke lay tucked in in his bed, cuddling the dog plushie that Mammon had given him at a carnival last year that he claims to have thrown away, Michael and Simeon sat on his bed, the nightlight on the boy's bedside table created a gentle glow that the two elder were using to read the storybook strew across both of their laps aloud, they appeared to be acting it out ever so slightly. When Luke finally drifted off. Both Angels kissed his forehead then dimmed the nightlight down slightly, dim enough where it wouldn't hurt the boy's eyes but bright enough that the dark wouldn't scare him if he woke up in the middle of the night, keeping the curtains open for added light.

You cooed silently, your white wings rustling.

Snapping out of it, you scale across the wall before finding the spare room Michael was staying in and breaking in.

"Hello Motherfucker." You greet the Archangel.

"You couldn't pay me to fuck your mother."

"Harsh. And here I was about to tell you my escapades..." You sigh dramatically. Michael immediately smiles sweetly. Buttering you up. You cave.

After about an hour of Michael laughing at you specifically, and then changing your contact to 'ghost of christmas past' the bastard finally fell asleep.

Feeling thirsty, you snuck downstairs into the kitchen to get a drink, and also a sharpie so you could draw a mustache on Michael's face. Not bothering to put your veil on seeing as no one would be awake anyway.

As you filled up a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen counter drinking it, lost in your own plans, mainly of who to prank nest and how to do it.

You don't hear the little pitter-patter of feet until it's too late.

"MC?" A sleepy Luke stands in the doorway in cat themed pajamas no doubt gifted to him by a certain someone, he holds his dog plush loosely as he rubs his eyes with a tiny fist.

He walks slowly towards the cupboard, pouting sleepily when he realises he can't reach it, you immediately grab his favourite mug,(the one with the red tractor on it) knowing to put milk and some sugar in it before placing it in the microwave for 2 minutes.

Luke walks over to you still half asleep, resting his face on your side, you bring him in for a hug. "Simeon said you went to a happy place after you left, he always got sad when I asked when you were coming home..."

You bite your lip and speak softly, "My flight got delayed for a little while," You lie. Luke didn't need to know you died, Simeon hadn't told him in the best of ways to shield the young boy, that worked out in your favour.

You catch the microwave before it beeps, taking the warm milk out and stirring the hot-spots out of it before handing it to Luke. With his teddy now in the crook of his elbow, he sleepily took the mug before putting his tiny hand in yours.

"C'mon Luke, let's get you back to bed." You say softly, he nods tiredly.

"Will you tuck me in? And read me a bedtime story?" He yawns quietly.

"Of course."

After closing his curtains and tucking Luke in, he snuggles up to you and you read him a bedtime story, after drinking his warm milk, he falls asleep quite quickly, so do you.

A mistake, really. Seeing as in the morning when Simeon comes in to wake the small angel up and sees you there he lets out a shriek very out-of-character for him.

A shriek which wakes both you and Luke up.

Luke smiles toothily, "Oh Simeon! MC came back last night! Did you not see?"

Simeon collects himself, "I must've been asleep Luke, why don't you get dressed then come down for breakfast? Michael and I made pancakes. M-MC, why don't you come downstairs now?"

Luke nods and gets up dutifully.

As soon as you leave the room and Simeon is sure you're both out of the earshot of Luke, he pulls you into a hug which you return.

"I thought I'd lost you.." He breathes out softly.

"Me? C'mon Simmy...you know I'd never let death keep me." You laugh, he laughs breathlessly.

"I suppose not...." He captures your lips in a soft innocent kiss before leading you downstairs, hand-in-hand.

When Michael sees the two of you he offers you a pancake, far too casually for Simeon's taste.

Simeon looks between the two of you and glares at Michael. "You knew about this."

"Haha! Funny story actually! I need to go help Jesus! He's gone and ventured into another desert!" Michael laughs nervously before booking it, only coming back when Luke appears, knowing then he's safe from Simeon's wrath....

....for now.

You took out your super serious napkin and crayon that you stole from Diavolo (read: Diavolo gave you) and crossed out Simeon's name.

Your list was now as follows:

Purgatory Hall Simeon Solomon House of Lamentation Mammon Levi Satan Asmo Beel Belphie

For Satan and Belphie, you could knock out two Anti-Lucifer-League Birds with one stone. It felt a little mean to prank prank Levi and Beel...Mammon and Asmo were debatable, but you were going all out on Solomon. That'll teach him to turn you into a sheep that one time 2 years ago.

After careful deliberation and planning, (20 seconds of thinking.) You'd decided to sneak into the Sorceror's society and jokingly attempt to assassinate Solomon, and maybe fully assassinate Maddi if she was there. Not maybe, definitely.

Veil over your head, you walked in, when the sorcerer guards stopped you, you just pretended to be Michael then walked further in. Apparently they were terrified of the Archangel. Damn this society needs better sorcerers securitying it.

After stealing schedules you realised Solomon would be in a meeting right now with a bunch of no names. Oh well.

You crept into the meeting and attempted to plunge the butter knife Barbatos' gave you from the castle kitchens specifically for this in his neck, knowing he'd dodge. "This is for the Sheep Potion you Rat Bastard!" You screech like a Bean Sídhe. After half a millisecond of shock and slight anger, Solomon realises who it is behind the veil, laughing he grabs the arm you're holding the butter knife in and drags you into his lap, gently ripping the veil off of you and giving you a peck on the forehead, before he turns to the shocked and slack-jawed sorcerers that looked older than he did. "Sorry all, my adorable partner," He puncuates the word partner by pulling you closer to him, "missed me a little too much. and has-" He kisses you on the lips passionately for a moment, leaving you very much breathless and him very much chuckling, "-strange ways of showing their affection."

Bastard.

Some time into the meeting you whisper, "How are you not more shocked?"

"Well Robert-Rupert," He whispers teasingly back to you, "Remember that binding spell we did back when you were alive? It never broke. I knew the moment I saw you."

Your heart stops. "Did you tell anyone else?"

"I debated telling Asmo, but I suppose you wanted to on your own terms." He teases.

"I should've tried to stab you with a sharper knife."

Solomon laughs, "Oh and MC my love?"

"Hmm?"

His eyes glint predatorily, "You look absolutely ravishing as an angel. I can't help but want to corrupt you..."

You bury your face in his chest to hide your blush.

Bastard.

On the bright side, now a rumour that Solomon the Wise and Michael the Archangel are secret lovers has spread around the Devildom. You're counting that as a win.

Purgatory Hall Simeon Solomon House of Lamentation Mammon Levi Satan Asmo Beel Belphie

After your encounter with Solomon, you'd decided learning to just hide your angel form was the best course of action. Luckily it was fucking easy and you could've done it ages ago. Strange how Simeon and Luke never mentioned it....meh. You're pretty sure Luke just thought Michael thought you were super cool so he made you an angel. You weren't telling him anything otherwise.

´Satan and Belphie watch your fucking backs.´ was the pedal note of all your thoughts currently, you´d snuck back into the House of Lamentation, thankfully Beel was not in the kitchen, he was at Fangol at this hour.

Walking through the halls stealthily, you heard whispers as two sets of feet seemed to enter the room at the farthest end of the hallway. Lucifer´s room.

You fucking caught them.

No time to be caught in Lucifer´s room, seeing as if you were there long enough and Lucifer caught you, you would not be leaving for a good while.

So you crept up to the attic, the official Anti-Lucifer-League headquarters, you climbed the pillars to get on the roof and you waited.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, snickering could be heard coming up to the attic. Satan opens the door, letting Belphie in, both brothers in various fits of sniggering as they walk into the room.

"He'll never see this one coming!" "This is our best one yet."

From your place on the attic ceiling, you spot Lucifer filming on his DDD from the shadows of the doorway. Of course he found out about this.

"Of course it's our best one yet!"

You swing down off of the ceiling beam, swinging lightly upside down. "And you didn't invite me?" You pout.

Satan and Belphie scream, clutching onto eachother, before noticing that it's you and running to pull you down and clutch onto you instead. You notice Lucifer chuckle and put his DDD in his pocket before leaving. Traitor.

You cuddle into your two Anti-Lucifer League Brethren, maybe this wasn't so bad. (Of course it wasn't, you loved your idiots.)

Safe to say, you didn't leave the attic for a long time. Apparently people need time to process that you're not actually dead. What madness.

House of Lamentation Mammon Levi Satan Asmo Beel Belphie

You had long unentangled yourself with a sleeping Belphie and Satan, making sure to leave a:

it wasnt a dream dont worry lads im alive.

note on their chests just in case.

Sitting in the attic with your napkin and crayon in hand, you ripped the Purgatory Hall part off of it and used the back of it for that note, you scanned through the list. You should save your First Man for last, so your next options were Beel, Asmo and Levi.

Seeing as you've shown yourself to Belphie, it's only natural your gentle giant is next.

Watch your fucking back Beel. Literally

Speaking of, it's been a few hours, Beel should be coming back from Fangol practice any moment now.

As was routine at this point, you crept through the House of Lamentation's halls and quickly ran into Beel and Belphie's shared bedroom.

As Beel walked into the room, his Fangol bag slung across his chest and a pile of after Fangol snacks in his hands, you braced yourself, made a run for it, anf landed right square on his back, arms around his neck to keep from falling.

"Oh hi MC!" Beel hummed cheerfully, before his eyes widened and he dropped his snacks. "MC?!"

"Hi!"

Quick as a flash, Beel maneuvers himself in 'dying cockroach you in Barbatos' dungeons part two' and grabs you into his arms.

"I thought you died..." He said, smelling your hair as he cuddled you.

"I did. I just came back as an angel."

"Really?" His breath hitches, "Can I see?.."

You take a deep breath and your wings and halo pop out, he strokes them gently.

"You're beautiful..." He whispers, enraptured...."I think...out of all of Father's creations over the years since the celestial war...you're the most precious...."

He speaks softly, always the gentle giant, the moment lasts for just a moment, before the moment, like all moments do, has passed. Beel's stomach rumbles and you giggle.

"You should eat your snacks, Beelie.."

"They always taste better when we share." He nods seriously.

House of Lamentation Mammon Levi Satan Asmo Beel Belphie

Levi or Asmo? You bit your crayon in thought then immediately made a face. Crayons did not taste nice.

Speaking of things that did not taste nice, you remembered that one time you tried to eat Levi's controller because you were bored.

Levi it was!

You had to time this perfectly, waiting in the shadows until Levi went down to get a snack, you snuck into his room, saying the answer to his password out of pure habit, before sitting on his gamer chair and maneuvering it in such a way he would not be able to see anyone on it from the door.

When Levi walked into his room, a bag of crisps in hand, he took a few steps before you swung around "Boo!" and he screamed. Dropping his crisps.

After convincing him you were infact not a ghost (Unlike Lucifer's), you sat with him in your arms, watching anime, and getting caught up on the new episodes released.

You cuddled up to him in his bathtub that night. You grinned evilly. This gave you an idea.

House of Lamentation Mammon LeviSatan Asmo Beel Belphie

It was no secret that Asmo bathed a lot. Funfact, Angels can hold their breath for 30 minutes!

As Asmo was busy picking out which pajamas he wanted to wear after his bath, you tiptoed behind him and slowly got in his bath, hiding under the bubbles.

It took a total of five minutes before Asmo closed the door to his bathroom and got into his bath, this was your chance! Reaching out, you grabbed his foot and pulled him under.

He screeched, when got back above the surface of the water, he grabbed your hand and pulled you over.

He squealed this time, hugging you tightly.

"Oh MC darling!~ I thought you were...well never the matter~...." He punctuated each word by kissing your face all over, leaving you squirming in his grasp out of embarassment. "How naughty!~ Sneaking into my bath like that...~...not that you arent always welcome my lovely!~"

"A-asmo," You say, your clothes soaked, though you couldn't find yourself caring. "Asmo, I love you..." your voice is soft and the Avatar of Lust coos.

It was a nice night.

Time for your final victim. Your First Man. Feeling nice, you decided not to do something too mean.

Painstakingly, you made a trial of grimm from the front door to your First Man's room, more specifically; to his bed. The plan was to hide behind the door and jumpscare him while he was busy collecting the grimm.

Unfortunately for you, seeing as you weren't sure when Mammon got off his modelling shift, you'd finished far too early, and since you and Asmo were up the entire night, you were quite sleepy.

Surely a little 5 minute nap wouldnt hurt?

You woke up hours later to a sobbing Mammon on top of you, cuddling you in his arms like his life depended on it. It seems you'd falled asleep on his bed, more specifically in his nest.

In the nest you would normally sleep in while alive. (While Human technically, seeing as you are alive, just not human.)

You bring a hand to his snowy locks, he sobs harder. Like his brother, kissing all over your face softly, "Thought I lost ye' forever Hum'n" he gasps for air, his sobs quieting down, "Though' you were gone....I prayed ev'ry nigh'...." he says, voice barely above a whisper as he strokes your cheek, looking into your eyes. "I prayed ta Fath'r ev'ry nigh' since ye' died...that he'd bring ye' back te me...."

"And he did..." You say just as softly, bringing your hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes, sharing a soft kiss with him. As always, your greedy lovable bastard would want more, and you'd want nothing more than to give them to him.

And the next day when you told Michael you'd be staying in the Devildom he cheered, then told you to include him in this 'Anti-Lucifer League business' because it 'seemed fun'.

Wow. Now you knew where Satan got it from. Poor Lucifer, he just barely got away from Michael in the Celestial realm, and now he has to deal with Michael 2.0 in the Devildom.

Satan and Michael really were kind of similar....maybe it's a good thing they've only met in passing.

Moral of the story kids. Death sucks, don't do it. If you do do it, reincarnate. Bam! Problem Solved.

This is the longest ever fic I've ever wrote and probably does not make a lot of sense so I apologise for that. I also apologise for any ooc behaviour i'm still learning how to write characterisation😔✊

also i love thinking of Michael being a father figure to Luke and its very obvious

#obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #omswd #obey me mc #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me levi #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me michael #mammon x reader #lucifer x reader #levi x reader #satan x reader #asmo x reader #beel x reader #belphegor x reader #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #solomon x reader

[supernaturalfreewill]

You watched him click the magazine back into the pistol. The sound was weighty and metallic. You swallowed a little nervously, being generally unaccustomed to firearms. "Do you really think that's necessary?" you asked somewhat meekly from the doorway.

Dean's eyes flickered up to meet yours. He hadn't realized you were standing there. He hastily set the pistol down on the coffee table, noting your apparent discomfort. "I don't know. But I like to be prepared," he said stoically. "How are you doing with all this?"

You shrugged. "Little out of my wheelhouse here... monsters and psychos and... all of it."

His expression softened and he nodded. "Yeah. I know. And I'm really sorry Sam and I had to come in here and fuck up your world."

"I'm not," you said, stepping farther into the room. Dean gave you a quizzical look. "Not really. At least I have some answers now. And—well, having you around isn't so bad," you offered with a half-smile. "I"ve had worse house guests."

Dean let out a small gruff laugh. "Good. That's good to know... Luckily you didn't end up with Sam here after our rock, paper, scissors match. I know he seems clean, but you should see him with a bag of chips," he joked. "Crumbs everywhere."

"Oh—you, uhh... had to decide who'd stay here with rock, paper, scissors?" Your stomach sank a little, despite telling yourself it was stupid to feel hurt by neither of them wanting to hang around in a stranger's house waiting for certain danger. "Am I really that bad?" you asked wryly, managing a self-deprecating laugh.

Dean looked up again. "Huh? Oh—no. No, no!" he stood up suddenly, almost urgently. "No, we played to see who, uhh..." He paused, clearing his throat anxiously, his lips then forming an 'O' shape but no sound coming out for a moment. "No, we played to see who—who would get to stay here," he finally managed. "Um... well—you're—I mean, heh..." he trailed off, laughing awkwardly. "I won," he said finally, cocking an eyebrow up at you and hazarding a somewhat nervous glance in your direction.

Dean stammering was extremely endearing... and you felt your face flushing as you finally understood that they'd played to decide who would get to stay...

Prompt: ""Do you really think that's necessary?"

#protective!dean #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean w x you #supernatural drabbles #dean fluff #spn fluff

[mendessi]

speak now | part one

pairing: fem!reader x pre-outbreak!joel

summary: joel saves you from the biggest mistake of your life

word count: 2.8k

warnings: smut probably, pre-outbreak, mentions of marriage, based off speak now by taylor swift, mentions of domestic abuse, joel is 26 & reader is 21, mentions of cheating, kind of slow burn, brief mention of death, angst, will add more as i think of them

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

minors dni

Joel Miller never believed in the idea of love at first sight, not even when he had met his young daughter's mom. To him it sounded like the things heard in movies that he never cared to watch. Every relationship he had been in had been slow burn, minus the one with his daughter's mom, hence how he ended up a single father at twenty-two. 

Joel Miller still didn't believe in love at first sight when his eyes fell on you from across the bar as you poured a shot for a woman who was way past her alcohol limit. He didn't believe in it, but damn you were the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen. 

Work brought him and Tommy to El Paso, a town that resembled something close of a desert. It was the first work trip they'd done and it may as well be the last considering how shit it was going and how much he just wanted to get home to his daughter. 

"She's pretty," Tommy said as Joel brought the glass of whiskey to his lips. Joel didn't respond as he watched you say something to your friend who was behind the bar with you and then step out from behind it walking towards the back to meet a guy who instantly had his hands all over you.

"She's taken." Tommy added earning a glare from Joel. 

Joel continued to watch your encounter with the man who looked to be at least ten-fifteen years older than you run his hands up and down your waist earning uncomfortable glances from you. Joel sprung to his feet as soon as he noticed the grip of the man's hands tighten around your wrists and marched to the back corner where you stood.

"Hey, you work here right? Some guy is causin' trouble over there can you get the bouncer?" Joel said, gesturing over his shoulder once he reached you. 

"Uh, yeah I do." You replied, hesitantly taking the man's hands off of your body and grabbing the flashlight off your hip to signal the bouncers. 

Joel shared one last look with the man and then walked back to his table with Tommy.

"Smooth." He said as Joel sat down.

"Shut up." 

A few more drinks in and Tommy had managed to pull a girl around his age and left the bar leaving Joel watching the Cowboys game that was playing. There was no urgency for him to return to the hotel especially when there was a chance that Tommy would be in there with said girl. 

His attention was caught with a flashing light coming from the bar which was coming from you. He grabbed his beer and made his way to the bar, pulling up a seat. 

"Thanks for earlier." You pulled another beer from behind the counter and pulled the cap off with the bottle opener before sliding across the wood to him. "On the house." 

"What did I do?" He asked, eyeing the beer.

"Come on, don't be weird about it." You laughed lightly and put your hands on your hips, thankful for the moment to breathe after the busy game rush.

"Who was he anyway?" It was easy to tell he wasn't a stranger to you.

"Fiance." You said after a moment of silence. 

"The guy looked fifty." Joel said, not attempting to hide his shock that somebody as drop dead gorgeous as you was going to be married to somebody that old. 

"Forty-seven." You nodded. 

"How old are you?" Joel asked. To be fair, the alcohol was finally starting to kick in. 

"Twenty-one. You?" You asked. 

"Twenty-six."

"Hm." You poured yourself a glass of water and squeezed a lemon into it, keeping your eyes trained on him. His hair was scruffy, he had these big brown eyes that looked like they had such stories to tell, and a scruffy patchy beard that you found yourself becoming a little obsessed with. He was extremely attractive and very much your type. 

"Are you from around here?" You asked him, taking a sip of your water.

"Austin. You ever been?" He asked.

"I've always wanted to. 'Keep Austin weird' they say." You smile. "You don't look very weird to me."

"I can bring you." Joel said to you earning a shy laugh. "I'm serious."

"What's your name?" You ask the man in front of you who looks like he's teetering on the line between sober and tipsy.

"Joel Miller."

"Well, Joel Miller, my shift is up, but maybe I'll see you around." You untie the apron from around your waist and he sits up hopefully, trying to find the courage to ask you out, but teetering on the line of sobriety and tipsy he can't seem to find it. What was he thinking asking an engaged woman out anyways?

"I didn't get your name." He said to you. You simply pointed at your name tag before saluting him goodbye and walking out of the bar.

His conversation with you was short and hardly held any substance, but something about you captivated him and he wanted more. He had a little over three weeks left in El Paso and he was gonna find one way or another to learn more about you, and he certainly didn't care if that meant sitting in The Ginger Duck every single night until he left. 

-

The next time Joel saw you wasn't at The Ginger Duck but was walking down Main Street with some books in your hand just a few days later. He almost couldn't believe his eyes that he had gotten this lucky as he pulled over to parallel park on the street. He eagerly got out of the car and called your name to which you turned around. 

"Hey!" You said, surprised to be seeing him but also taking note of the little flip your stomach did as you saw his smile. "I thought you'd be gone by now."

"Have about three weeks left here." Joel said rubbing the back of his neck. "What are you up to, are you free to grab a bite?"

"Yeah actually. I have a shift at the bar in about two hours so I'm open til then." You looked down at your watch and then back up at him with a smile. 

You and Joel found yourselves in the back of his pickup truck with takeout from your favorite Chinese restaurant on main overlooking the gray city from a lookout point you used to come to in high school. You didn't tell Joel that this was where you had lost your virginity to your very first boyfriend. 

"What? I do not give off that vibe." You said to him, laughing as you nudged his shoulder with your own, "Do I actually look mean?" 

"Just when you're dealing with drunk people." He said to you, joining in on your laughter.

"You can look pretty mean too, you know." You said, looking over at him. 

"I've actually heard that before. Several times." He replied. "My daughter makes fun of me for it." 

"You have a daughter?" You gasped unintentionally putting your hand on his knee out of excitement. "Tell me about her."

"Sarah, she just turned four and she's about as crazy as any four year old. We been teaching her soccer and god, she's actually pickin it up real quick." He smiled proudly and you admired the way he spoke about her, his southern accent pulling through. 

"'We' being..." You trailed off. You had an idea that he was a single dad and honestly hoped he was a single dad with the way would eye you up and down sometimes. 

"Me and my brother." He nodded. "Her mom left right after she was born." 

"I'm sorry to hear that." A twinge of guilt hit your chest and it was because you knew what she would go through only growing up with one parent. You loved your dad with all of your heart and he did everything he could, but there is a certain relationship a mother shares with her daughter that his would never experience. You knew what that felt like after your mom walked out on you and your father when you were six. 

"It's alright. Everything happens for a reason." He nodded. 

You sat in silence for a few moments and sighed taking off your jacket, the heat from the Texas sun blazing down onto the both of you. Joel nearly jumped at the sight of the disgusting looking purple, blue and green bruise covering your shoulder under the strap of your tank top. 

"What happened?" His fingers grazed the bruised skin more gentle than you ever knew a man's touch to be and you almost flinched at the idea of his fingers against you. 

"I dropped a glass rack on myself at work." You told him. "Fucking horrible, do you know how heavy those things are?" 

He didn't say anymore on the matter and looked back down at his food, the gears shifting in his head as he replayed the moment he saw you in the corner of the bar with your fiance. Surely this wasn't his doing, this bruise was giant, he couldn't seem to piece together how this bruise could've been done by a human so you must've been telling the truth.

"Can I ask you something? Don't take it the wrong way." Joel said to you. 

"Sure." You smiled over at him, thankful he bought into the glass rack story.

"Your fiance... what's the story there? I- how do I say this? You're about the prettiest girl I've ever seen and I can't imagine why you'd marry so young." He tried his best not to insult the fact that the man was in his forties and was quite ugly and had no clue as to how he got so lucky for your hand in marriage. 

Another silence fell over the two and you looked down at your lap debating on if you should tell the truth. Joel felt like somebody you could trust with a secret and everything about him felt safe. Joel was warm and just his presence was enough to embrace you enough to feel as if there were no other problems in the world. When you were with Joel right here in this very moment, it was just the two of you. Not even the dull city below you had people. Just the two of you watching over it. 

"If I tell you the truth, you promise not to tell?" Hesitation laced through your words.

"On my life." His eyes were on you, despite you hiding your face as you looked down at your hands.

"My dad was sick and I needed to pay for his healthcare somehow. My fiance was a regular at the bar since I was eighteen and he's... he's well off, you know? I started dating him and he helped pay for my dad's care until he passed. Um," A sigh falls from your lips and you barely notice the tear that falls from your eye, "I was going to leave him but my dad asked me to stay with him. Marry him, because he knew I'd always be financially taken care of, so... I did. And now we're getting married at the end of the month." 

Twisting the large engagement ring around your finger you finally get the courage to look up at him. His brown eyes are soft as they look into yours and he reaches for your hand taking it into his own. 

"It makes me sound like a horrible person, but my fiance isn't too great either." You brush the hair from your face as you look into his eyes. 

"You're doing what you need to survive, there's nothing wrong with that." He squeezes your hand and a sigh of relief falls from your lips. You half expected him to get in his truck and leave you at that lookout point, maybe even call you a gold digging psycho, but he didn't. He offered you comfort. He offered you warmth. And despite the Texas heat, the warmth he offered was much needed. 

Joel instinctively wrapped his arm around you and you leaned into his side, draping you arm across his torso. You didn't know it, but he needed this as much as you did. 

Joel drove you to The Ginger Duck after the two of you both accidentally fell asleep in each others arms in a short thirty minute nap. You couldn't help but feel a magnetic draw to him after your little lunch date together. It wasn't technically a date, but you wouldn't mind if it was a date either. 

"Hey, I'll try to stop by a little later if that's okay with you." Joel said as he pulled your door open. 

"Yeah, I'd like that. Wednesdays are a little slow so I could use the pick me up." You said to him. 

"If I don't make it for whatever reason, you can find me over at the Lazy Eight. Room 193. If not tonight, anytime between now and the next three weeks." He smiled down at you as he leaned against the door. He was tempted to kiss you but finally some sense knocked into him as he remembered you were engaged to be married at the end of the month.

He should leave it and run the other direction before he got too attached. You had no business getting involved with him either as an engaged woman and it didn't matter if your fiance was sleeping with someone else every night, that didn't mean you should stoop to his level. 

You didn't see Joel for a week. It hurt to say the less. But maybe what said did scare him off. You almost expected it to anyways so it shouldn't surprise you that he didn't go to the bar that night or any night after that. 

Joel was sitting in his hotel room that night waiting up to make sure Tommy made it home from the bar safely, wondering if he should go see you. He wondered if you questioned where he was and why he didn't uphold his promise to visit you. 

It wasn't a wise decision for him to get involved with you when you were set to be married at the end of the month. Let alone the fact that he lived in Austin and you lived here in El Paso. The odds were stacked against him. 

He spent lunch with you one day and now he was obsessed. He wanted more of you, all of you and he couldn't bring himself to drive down to the bar to see you. There was a connection and neither of you could deny it. The spark was undeniable no matter how badly the two of you wanted it to die. 

Joel was woken from a sleep to a loud knock on the door. He figured Tommy must've been drunk and lost his key so he stumbled from bed and walked to the door. He almost jumped at the unexpected sound of thunder as he looked through the peephole. 

"Christ," His heart dropped and he pulled the door open to see you standing there, completely drenched still in your work uniform, teeth chattering as you stared up at him. Your cheek was bruised and your nose was still bleeding. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go and I remembered-" It was hard to tell because of the rain but the wavering in your voice made it clear that you were sobbing. "I can leave."

"No. No, come." Joel gently grabbed your hand and pulled you through the doorway. "Are you okay?"

Joel's hands almost immediately began shaking as rage began coursing through his body at the sight of you. The sound of you trying to stifle your tears as he lead you to the bathroom was almost enough to make him see red but he held his composure for you.

"Who did this to you?" He asked grabbing a clean towel of the rack and holding it to your nose as you sat on the toilet. 

You simply shook your head as he gently pushed your head forward so your nose was tilted down. Joel dropped to his knees in front of you, moving the towel slightly to see if it was broken, a sigh falling off his lips he realized it wasn't. Just bleeding from the force of being hit. 

"Was it him?" The tone of his voice made it clear who 'him' was and you held onto his shoulders as he tenderly held the towel against your face. 

"Hey," He lowered his voice and it came out softer than he expected. Thankful nonetheless because that's what you needed, "You can tell me." 

"Yes." You whispered, wincing as his fingertips brushed against your cheek bones.

"I'll kill him." 

PREV | NEXT

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller imagine #the last of us

[wilfywarfy]

Happy Anniversary~

"...hello?"

It all looks so… familiar. Like he's home, but he knows he's not. There's no banter coming from the commons. Or the sound of pots and pans clashing against each other. Not even the sound of walking on the upper levels.

It was quiet. Too quiet. This wasn't his home.

"Hello?" He calls out again. Where was everyone?

"William?"

Wilford turns around. Not because it was his name they'd called out, but because there was someone else.

A man in a white dress shirt and black pants comes up to him. He wasn't completely sober. He could tell by the way he stumbled. He himself had stumbled like that many times before.

"Hmm? Oh, it's not-"

"'ve been wondering where you were! Come on, we've been waiting for you!" The man holds out a hand for him.

Waiting… for him?

"Well, I suppose I can't keep the party waiting! Oh, by the way, it's Wilford. Not William." Wilford takes the man's hand, letting himself be led.

"Haha, yeah, whatever you say, Will! Now… where's that poker room… oh, right." It seemed the alcohol was getting to his guide as he took Wilford to the party.

What he's met with, well, it certainly is a party. There's 2 other people in the room, both looking equally, if not even more, intoxicated. Both seated at the poker table, with large glasses of wine.

Wait… wait a second…

"Abe?"

The man looks at Wilford, squinting to try and get his vision to realign. "William! Where'd you go? We'd been waiting forever!"

"Uhm, Wilford. I… I just got here. I don't know where I am." He says honestly. There was no point in lying.

"Haha! Aww man, you are hilarious! Maybe you should stop drinking, you're starting to go insane!"

Even Abe didn't believe him? He spent a whole 19 minute special making Abe believe him! That was NOT a small budget special either. "No, I'm being honest!"

"Hah, sure you are! Come on, go pick up your hand again! It's your turn!"

Abe gestures to an empty seat at the poker table. Set up with a rather nice looking pile of chips. A tempting glass of dark red wine. And a hand with his name written all over it. Maybe he could tolerate being called William… especially if it meant a bit of fun.

"Well, don't mind if I do~"

It takes time to get into the swing of things. After all, drunk humor is different from sober humor. But if there's one thing Wilford was good at, it was adapting! Before he knew it, he had the whole table bursting out in laughter with every quip he fired out. And it was much easier with every glass of wine he finished off.

"Haha, William, my friend! You truly are a comedian if there ever was one! Say, why don't you come work with me? You'd make a killing, you know!"

"Oh, Mark, I'm already there! I'm one of the biggest names in entertainment! At least… I think I am."

"Hah, alright, Mr. False Memory. Whatever you say!" The rest of the table laughs.

Mark… Mark… why'd that name sound so familiar?

"What the fuck!?"

Everyone's attention snaps to the door. A new player seems to have entered the party. And he didn't look too happy, considering how he held out his gun. It was a rather nice looking gun, if Wilford said so himself. A beautiful revolver. Why, he had one himself!

"William!" Damien said, breaking out into a fit of giggles. "There you are!"

"Yes, it's me… what is HE doing in MY seat?" William points the muzzle towards Wilford, who's unfazed.

"Well, that's William!" Damien says, as if it's the most casual thing in the world.

Both Wilford and William look at Damien, before looking back at each other.

"Well, let me explain-"

"You can explain once you're dead!" William unclicks the safety, and continues to point the gun towards Wilford

"Hey! Wait just a damn second! As someone who also has a rather dapper looking mustache, I don't want to get into a squabble with a fellow stache haver!"

Wilford holds his hands up, showing that he doesn't have anything. Though in doing such, shows that he has his revolver tucked away in his belt. 

"You do have a dapper mustache, I'll give you that." William slowly points the gun to the floor, though he's still defensive.

"Exactly! There's no need to fight, friend!"

"Wait a damn second…" Abe says, as if he'd just made a discovery. "William… isn't William?"

"I've been saying that, Abe. My name is Wilford."

"It's rather rude that you would confuse us, Abe. We look nothing alike." Both Wilford and William look at Abe, both placing a hand on their hip, as if to say 'We're nothing alike! Just look at us!'

Abe is still very confused. But he's also very drunk. "...okay."

"Anywho, that still doesn't explain why you're in MY seat, drinking MY drink, and mooching up to MY detective…friend." William clarifies.

"Well, look…" Wilford looks at the badges on the man's uniform. "Colonel! Look Colonel, I mean no harm by being here… I don't even know why I'm here if I'm being honest. But this party is so fun! I couldn't resist! By the way, Mark, lovely party throwing skills!"

"Thank you, William."

"Wilford. Anyway, I never meant to harm you. Or anyone here. I simply wished to play poker. So… if you'd like, you can have your seat back."

William stares at him. The amount of pink on Wilford was nauseating to all his senses.

He then looks at his hand, or rather, what Wilford had done with his hand. He had more chips than when he left.

"...haha!" William throws an arm around Wilford, pulling him into his side. Wilford is caught off guard, but adapts, and tosses an arm around the Colonel. "Boys, I think we have another player in our party!"

The boys laugh, and raise their glasses in celebration. 

"Say, Mark. How do you feel about setting up a new hand for our new friend here?" Damien asks the red robed man.

That smile was fake. Wilford could tell a fake smile from a mile away. Why, Mark, why-.

"Of course! BENJAMIN!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Get our new friend his own glass. And bring up a new keg, would you?"

"Yes, sir!"

Wilford doesn't remember laughing this much. The only time he wasn't laughing was when he was drinking, and even that was a task.

His own vision becomes blurry. Time starts to slow. And the slur of his voice grows thicker.

"Say, Wilford… how do you feel about games of chance, hmm?" A sultry voice asks. Who exactly it is, it's hard to tell.

"Well… I do love gambling!" He gestures to his large pile of poker chips. Which he'd gained by, admittedly, changing a few of his cards. What was the harm if they didn't know? "Why do you ask?"

"Well… I challenged William to a game of Russian Roulette. It's a false round, no danger. So… what do you say? Want to bet?"

"Hmm… nah, I'm alright. You two have fun though!" Wilford went back to counting his chips… or trying to, at least. It was so hard to count. He's pretty sure he hears an 'Alright… if you say so.' From over his shoulder.

It's not even a few moments later before he hears it.

BANG!

Wilfords eyes grow wide. And it's like all the alcohol is flushed from his body, leaving him cold sober. That wasn't the sound of a false round. No, that was a bullet. A real, authentic bullet. He knew the sound by heart. 

He drops all his chips and scrambles out of his chair, his feet guiding him to what had happened.

There's so much blood… so much blood… so much blood.

"Haha, Mark lost!" William says joyously, clapping as he laughs.

"What… what the hell?" Wilford says quietly, taking in the scene before him.

Fuck, there were bits of Marks head splattered on the floor. Small chunks of muscle, skull, and brain matter in places where they didn't belong. Blood was pouring from the hole in his head, like some kind of fucked up syrup.

"No…no… this, this isn't real…" Wilford says to himself.

"Heh, damn right it's not real. Come on, Mark, get up!" William kicks Marks body. There's no response.

The smell of rot starts to spread out. Open bodies smelled like death. He knew it from first hand experience.

"This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real…"

"Oh, come on, don't be such a sore loser, Mark! Get your ass up, spoil sport!" The Colonel kicks him again. No response. "Ugh, Damien, help!"

"What's wrong, Will?"

"Drama boy here won't get his ass up."

"...eh, probably just fell asleep."

No, he's not asleep. He's dead. Wilford has seen many dead bodies. Enough to know that Mark was dead. There was no false round… Mark was dead.

"Wilford… you alright?"

Wilford looks at Abe, concern written on the detective's face. Meanwhile, his own was covered with fear.

Pure fear.

"He's dead… he's dead…" Wilford keeps stepping back, til he comes in contact with the poker table. He grips onto it. Hard. His nails make indents in the fine wood.

"He's dead… he's dead…" Once his hands hurt enough, he uses them to cover his face. Blocking his view of everyone messing with the body of their friend.

He's dead. He's dead.

And then… it's quiet.

Wilford looks again… everyone is gone. Mark… Damien… Abe… they're all gone. Hell, the room is gone. Replaced with the loneliness of black. 

"Do you remember yet?"

"...what?"

"Do you remember what this place is, William?"

"...why did you bring me here?"

"For you to remember…"

A crack of lighting strikes too close for comfort, thunder not too far after. It makes Wilford jump in shock.

"For you to remember what you did to me."

In front of him, a body drops. As if waiting for him, right here, at the right time.

It's Marks body. The wound is still fresh. He wants to throw up.

"For you to remember what you did to them." 

"William!"

"William!"

"William!"

Voices surround him. Ones that feel so close, and yet, so far. Never front and center. They hadn't been front and center for a long time.

"For you to remember the mistakes you've made…"

"I… I didn't know…" he pleads with the voice.

"All of those horrible mistakes…"

"I didn't know it was loaded…"

"Everyone you've hurt… everyone you've betrayed… all the pain you've caused."

"Please, I'm sorry!" He begs.

"It's too late for sorry…"

Wilford looks at his hands. They're covered in red. Dripping red onto the supposed floor of this void. He tries to wipe them on his pants, but nothing comes off. Blood just keeps dripping off, never ending.

"Do you think sorry will fix everything you've done?"

He turns around to where he hears the voice, but is met with bodies. Piles, upon piles of bodies. A sick mountain range of his own creation. All mangled in ways that he's caused. Some so bad that he can't even recognize them. The smell of rot is unbearable. The sight is unbearable. He has to physically stop himself from spilling sick all over.

"Do you think sorry would bring them back?"

He turns again.

There's 2 gravestones… overcome with the consequences of time. Both adorned with blue and red flowers respectively.

Damien Whitacre. Celine Whitacre.

"Damien… Celine…" Tears form in his eyes just from the names alone. Oh, Celine…

"Do you think sorry would fix all the pain you've caused him?"

"Why can't I remember?"

"Get your ass down on the ground!"

"Am I crazy?"

"Abe…" oh, his detective… he never deserved all that trouble… he deserved rest. Peace.

"Do you think sorry would fix all the pain you've caused me?"

A cold hand rests on the back of Wilfords neck. All his memories hit him like a freight train. Everything. Everything he'd done.

"Mark… please…" tears spill down his cheeks. He can't look at him… he can't look at him again.

"No… that won't do… not after everything you've done…"

The cold hand vanishes. And he's alone again… in the loneliness of black.

"It's all your fault, William."

Wilford looks around. There's nothing. And yet, there's everything. It's too much. "Mark, please, it was an accident!"

"You hurt me, you hurt your friends, and you left her to die!"

"I didn't! I didn't leave her! I swear!"

"So many people… hurt. Because of you."

"I didn't mean to! I didn't know!"

Ear piercing screams are heard all around him. Victims of his crimes. Innocent people, dead. Coming back to haunt him for his actions.

"Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Mark! I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, William! And it hasn't cut it for a long time!"

"I didn't know!"

"William!"

"William!"

"Please, William!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"You'll never be forgiven, William… no matter how much you try… you'll always be a murderer!"

"It was an accident! Please, believe me!"

"It's all your fault, William!"

"It's your fault!"

"It will always be your fault!"

"Murderer!"

"Please! Please, it was an accident! You have to believe me!" Wilford sobbed. Trying to plead to the voices of his friends. He wasn't a monster… it was an accident. A bad accident. He never meant to hurt them.

"It's all your fault!"

"Your fault!"

"Your fault!"

"It's all your fault, William!"

—

Wilford's eyes shoot open. His heart races in his chest. It's hard to breathe. The air feels like sludge, suffocating him. His face is wet from tears.

"It… it was an accident… I swear." He says to himself, in the dark of his room. The tears come again.

He's alone.

#markiplier #wilford warfstache #actor mark #damien markiplier #celine wkm #abe wkm #colonel wkm #markiplier egos #who killed markiplier #wkm #Happy anniversary to Who Killed Markiplier? Part 4! #Hope you guys all enjoy the Wilford angst! #gore tw #violence tw #overall Wilford isnt having a good time

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(MSG: The Witch from Mercury) Suletta and a Mechanic Reader fluff

I'm glad to show off my tanuki daughter any chance I get. And to just feel more authentic to the show, reader is not an S/O yet.

(Y/N) felt terribly confused, yet very intrigued by Suletta's big sister.

Aerial was supposedly not a Gundam, yet it clearly showed signs of having a PERMET system and fought with terrifying efficiency.

But it had no signs of it actually being one since Suletta was able to pilot it without getting killed in the process.

(Y/N) "Hopefully, she'll be okay...-"

(Suletta's Voice) "(Y/N)! I brought lunch!"

Her voice snapped their attention back to the present and their growling stomach.

(Y/N) "Okay, one second!"

As soon as the elevator platform hit the ground level, Suletta eagerly offered a small boxed lunch to (Y/N) wearing a big smile.

(Suletta) "Thank you again so much for helping out with Aerial! Her thrusters seem to be off during practice lately."

(Y/N) "It's no problem. Honestly, I should be thanking you for letting me even work on her. She's a marvel of engineering!

Suletta beamed with pride as she looked up at Aerial.

(Suletta) "Yeah, she's incredible. So is everyone else, too!"

Everyone else?...Oh, she must have been referring to the bits on Aerial.

(Y/N) also realized how Suletta wasn't stuttering at all. It seemed like when she's talking about her family, all her worries melt away.

It was endearing.

(Y/N) "You really look up to them, huh?"

Suletta gave them a quizzical look.

(Suletta) "Well, they're my family. Wouldn't you as well?"

(Y/N) "Fair enough. Let's get eating, shall we?"

Suletta nodded and both of them sat down to a relaxing lunch.

While (Y/N) was thinking what needed to be done on the thrusters, they heard Suletta begin to mumble to herself.

Turning to face her, she was holding up a hand with her fingers extended, counting them with a sandwich still in her hand.

(Suletta) "...ve lunch with fr..."

(Y/N) "Suletta?"

(Suletta) "EEP!"

Suletta suddenly recoiled, surprising (Y/N) as well.

(Y/N) "S-Sorry! I didn't mean to startle, but what are you doing?"

(Suletta) "U-Um...Promise you won't laugh?"

(Y/N) nodded.

(Suletta) "I-I made a list of things I wanted to when I went to s-school. Having lunch with friends is one of them."

(Y/N) remained silent for a moment to process what she said before smiling.

(Y/N) "That's it? There's no need to embarrassed by that, that's perfectly normal!"

(Suletta) "R-Really?"

(Y/N) "Yeah, especially if you've never been to school. Actually, now that I think about it, what do you know about school? I thought I remember you mentioning to Miorine you wanted to open one on Mercury?"

Suletta's anxious expression quickly melted away and was replaced with enthusiasm.

(Suletta) "Yeah, I did! Aerial actually taught me everything I know. We can go up there and watch the films she has!"

Suletta looked up to Aerial and shouted.

(Suletta) "Aerial! Can you get those old-school documentaries ready? We're gonna eat in the cockpit!"

It was endearing to watch Suletta get excited about the things she loved to (Y/N).

Hopefully they could-

(Y/N) ...D-Did I just see a response from Aerial? No one's inside the cockpit, though...

Suletta looked at (Y/N) expectedly as she waited on the elevator, holding her lunch and practically shaking with excitement.

(Y/N) smiled back and went on the platform, hoping they were just seeing things.

Because if they did see what they think they did, then they'd feel sorry for whatever bastard broke poor Suletta's heart in front of Aerial.

Hell hath no fury like a big sister watching their little sister cry.

#gundam witch from mercury headcanons #gundam witch from mercury imagines #gundam witch from mercury x reader #suletta mercury #suletta mercury x reader #gundam aerial

[metalheadcowboy]

Turning a Harringrove Cowboy/Farm AU I wrote A LONGGGG time ago into an actual multi part/chapter fic, so here's the first part, enjoy!

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

It was the spring of '84 when Steve Harrington first decided he hated Billy Hargrove with every damn bone in his body.

The beginning of that spring had been particularly rough in many ways. 

Steve's second senior year of high school was going quite a ways away from great, it seemed like no matter what his old man was pissed off about something or another, the calving season had only just started and it was going straight to shit. Oh, and on top of that, it was hotter than a witches tit outside, a record high in southern Indiana that year, great.

"Gah lee," Steve huffed as he fell flat on his rear, wiping the sweat off his forehead, with the part of his arm that wasn't covered in cow crap and god knows what, "That 'as one big son 've a bitch." The force of his collapse knocked his Stetson hat clean off, but he was quick to recover the rather expensive item he’d received for Christmas not too long ago. 

He slowly collected himself, pushing the medium tan leather down upon his dark, messy waves. He couldn’t help but blink his eyes a few times as he practically panted like a dog to will any form of cold into his body, "Yeah, 'll least this one's livin'," his dad remarked, and he couldn't disagree with that. Seemed like they'd had more still born calves than live ones this season.

" 'Ts only March, we've got a few months," The teen reminded, manifesting at least a shred of hope for the coming weeks. It wasn't that they didn't have calves other times of the year, they were just few and far between. Now was the time when they started raising a good sized herd to sell of at the beginning of next spring to support them most of the year round, besides the practical penny change they made selling their cows milk local, "Good job, mama," he praised the brown and white blotched animal next to him, already akin to new motherhood, licking her almost identical oversized calf like she knew nothing else.

Steve willed himself up off the ground onto shaky knees, this day had been one of his longest in a while. School on top of all the heifers seeming to want to calf at the exact same time. But as he looked past their property line, out into the marvelous bubblegum pink and creamsicle sunset, he found some sliver of peace.

Only the voice of his father snapped him out of his blissful moment of zoning out, seemed like he was doing a lot more of that lately "You best go wash up 'fer dinner, you know your ma ain't gon' have you at the table lookin' that way." He was right and Steve knew it, but he couldn't lie, a hot shower did sound pleasant on his aching joints.

He gave a quick "Yes sir," ending what was probably the tamest conversation they'd had in weeks, before making the short, yet long trek back to their homestead. He could see the lights on in the kitchen and living room, and as he got closer he came upon the silhouette of his mother washing her hands in the kitchen sink in the small window next to their side door.

He trotted up the last few stairs, smiling as he walked through the door to someone just as happy to greet him, "Well, look what the hot mess express brought in, my word sweetie," she said with no real malice, grinning at him like he was her pride and joy, which he was.

"Hi mama," he replied plainly, chuckling softly as she came over and pulled his nearly six foot frame down to her 5 '2 height for a kiss on the side of his head.

His chuckle turned into a full chested laugh when she made a fake gag of disgust, "You smell just 'bout right rank, son. You sure the heifers weren't the ones hackin' it up at your stink?" she teased and Steve just shook his head.

"Had my arm so far up one of 'em I'm prolly 'bout half cow any how," The brunette boy mimicked the struggle sticking his arm up the back end of a cow, to which Annette Harrington grimaced, "That's why I let you boys do your thing and I do mine," she gestured to the kitchen, which is what first alerted Steve to the smell of freshly made chicken pot pie sitting ready on the ceramic countertop. 

His eyes immediately lit up with pure delight, like a kid on Christmas morning, except he was nineteen and to some sad extent pot pie was the highlight of his week, “Mama you didn’t!” he exclaimed, about to go in for a big hug before remembering what he was covered in. 

Mrs. Harrington just shook her head, “Alright, go get cleaned up, the pie ain’t gon’ grow legs.” Within an instant Steve was racing off to his bedroom to grab a pair of pajamas and then to his bathroom to shower. 

And to say he was right would have been an understatement. Steve swore the hot stream of water that cascaded down his spine sent him into seventh heaven, easing out his jammed knee and stiff elbow with ease. 

He enjoyed his escape for about as long as the hot water lasted, a mere few minutes, but that was long enough for him. When he stepped out of the shower he shook his hair out like a wet dog, letting the towel he scrubbed his head with next catch the excess. Shortly after, he grabbed the comb up next to his sink, swiping the steam off the mirror to give his unruly mop a good brush through before quickly throwing on the pajamas he had grabbed prior. 

Steve practically burst through the bathroom door, following the promising scent of dinner, blatantly stopping in his tracks when he found something that was definitely not chicken pot pie. 

“Oh, Steven,” Oh boy, “We have someone we’d like ‘fer you to meet.” The smile on his moms face was sickeningly different from that she had on when welcoming him in from his chores. A lot less genuine and a lot more plastic, but still warm in the way it always was, it was just her nature. 

Steve didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking in the atmosphere, his parents, that boy. He would be lying if he said the golden-haired figure standing between his folks didn’t look straight out of one of the magazines he’d seen the few times they went into the city. 

Striking icy blue eyes, rimmed with lashes that damn near put any woman’s to shame. Thick brows somehow shaped to perfection, lain a top skin so perfectly sun kissed and freckled with intent. Steve had to force himself to shake these thoughts, knowing how damn stupid he must have looked gawking like an idiot. But that didn’t push away the confusion he felt as his heart seemed to pick up at the statuesque mystery man standing before him. 

“If they’d ‘a told me we were having’ company I would’ve thought to dress a ‘lil nicer ‘n this,” he remarked, cheeks burning a bit with embarrassment, feeling almost stark naked in his pajama pants and plain white t-shirt. He huffed out a short breath when the guy in front of him gave him a rather unconvincing pity laugh, parents following suit, “Ain’t no skin off my back, ‘m sure we’ll see each other in worse,” the radiant boy replied, once again leaving Steve baffled, but maybe that’s just what he did. 

“Names Billy by the way, Billy Hargrove” the boy- Billy extended his hand for Steve to take and he did, taking the few steps forward to give his hand a proper shake before returning the favor, “Steve Harrington, pleasure’s mine,” he replied simply with a short nod of his head. 

His father seemed pleased enough by this interaction, though Steve could never really tell, he always had this sort of stone cold thing going on. 

There was a beat of somewhat awkward silence before Annette interjected, “How about some homemade pot pie?” she offered, with a prompt clap of her hands, sending her boys and their guest to the dinner table. Normally Steve would have been beaming, ready to talk and talk and talk about anything and everything under the sun, but suddenly he wasn’t exactly in the mood. 

“Well, Billy we really are glad to have ya here,” Mr. Harrington continued in the tone he only used around guests or, really, people he was trying to impress. The sickeningly sweet, layered on false happiness and enthusiasm that made Steve’s stomach hurt, “Yeah, ‘ll y’know my old man’s been rearin’ to get me out of the house since the second I stepped foot outta school,” Hm, so he was older, “Since I graduated early ‘n all, couldn’t happen fast ‘nough.” The lanky boy nearly spit out his water, choking in an awkward way to where it came halfway up his nose and made his eyes water. 

Steve coughed it out a bit before bringing his napkin up to his face, watery eyes of shame blinking themselves dry, “Y’ alright there cowboy?” Cowboy, Steve looked up at the smirk on the other boy’s face and had to hold back a sneer. The last thing he needed tonight was to get into it with his dad while they had company over. 

“ ‘M fine, thanks,” he mumbled, feeling the short- lived rage in his stomach settle when his mother brought the meal over just in time, “Shall we?” she chimed in a sing-song tone, that wasn’t anything like his fathers, hers was genuine. Because if there was one thing about Annette Harrington, she didn’t have a mean bone in her body for anyone, unless they messed with her family. 

Steve tuned out the prayer, forehead pressed solidly against his hands clasped so tight his knuckles were about ghostly white. He was just wondering when this Billy guy was going to leave so this night could be over. But of course, just when the brunette thought the topic might change, of course, even after the prayer, his father, John, had to dwell. 

“I’ll say that’s right impressive, y’know Steve here’s held back a year, he’s ‘sposed to have graduated by now, but,” Mr. Harrington shrugged as he dug into his dinner. His son sat there halfway gobsmacked, halfway offended, but he should’ve expected such. 

Steve scoffed, “Only ‘cus you got me doin’ half your work every day. I barely got time for anythin’ else,” he mumbled under his breath just loud enough for the table to hear as he stared down at his mashed potatoes. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel his fathers eyes boring into his skull like laser beams. 

Steve’s mom just looked at him with a disappointed expression, but didn’t interject because she knew good and well it was true, “ ‘F that’s whatcha really think ‘n you’ll be happy to hear you won’t have to do it no more.” Steve’s eyebrows practically shot up his forehead and through his hairline. 

What the hell was he talkin’ ‘bout?

“Huh?” Was all he could manage before his dad excitedly cut off whatever he was planning to say next, “Well what else do you think we got Billy here for, looks?” This gave everyone but Steve a good laugh, he didn’t see any reason to be laughing right now. 

“ ‘N just what ‘o you mean by that?” He was so blinded by anger that he couldn’t even think about eating the pot pie his sweet mother had made, but he’d get over that guilt. He couldn’t say the same for the fury burning deep within him. He looked over at Billy who looked smug as ever, chewing on a bit of his food, sneaky eyes peeking out of the rim of his rather ratty looking Resistol. Oh what he would give right now to punch that smug look right off that pretty boy face. 

John Harrington gave Steve the look, his signature look that said ‘I dare you to go testin’ me, boy’ and if there was ever a time for that it would be now, “Steve, you’ve been slacking lately ‘n we both know it, son.” Steve went to open his mouth but got cut off, again, “ ‘N I figured having Billy stay here ‘n work with me ‘d give you the time off to do sumn else. Like helpin’ your mom ‘round the house, you did always seem… better suited for those things.” 

This couldn’t be fuckin’ for real, “John-,” his mom tried to scold. 

There’s no way his dad just basically called him a sissy, not after-

“I had my hand up a cow’s ass ‘fer you today, ‘n then you’re gonna go sayin’ that- that bullshit?” Steve burst, knowing he would no doubt have to pay for these words later. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, not from guilt, not from shame, but of pure, unfiltered rage. But what really put salt in the wound was looking over at Billy, whose subtle smirk had far faltered, turning into something more innocent, more regretful. Like this wasn’t all his own damn fault in the first place. 

Everything’s so unfair, this is so unfair. Not only did he feel hurt, but he felt embarrassed, having his dad say those things about him, basically calling him a sissy, in front of his own mother. 

“Steven-” he heard his father try to reprimand, but Steve refused to take it. Instead, he stood up abruptly, the straightening of his knees sent his chair flying backwards against the wall. He would have cringed at the sound if he weren’t so genuinely pissed. 

He was able to hold the tears in until he turned around, then it was like the dam just… burst. He felt a whine work its way up his throat, but he willed it back down, swallowing what last bit of pride he had left down with it. 

Could a sissy do that? Maybe Steve didn’t want the answer to that. 

He didn’t know what was going on, he’d never felt this was, this upset, this angry. He didn’t understand. He practically glid to his room, socked feet moving so fast he wasn’t sure whether or not he was actually taking real steps. And, frankly, he didn’t care, just wanted to be away. 

When he made it to his room, he closed his door behind him and flopped down onto his bed, stomach down, choking on his own hushed sobs. It made him feel like a child again, pathetic, small, lonely. He turned on his side and curled in on himself a bit, clinging on to whatever little bit of comfort he could. 

Through wallowing in his own self pity, he barely heard the faint mewl coming from behind him. He just groaned, hoping maybe if he ignored it long enough it, or rather she, would go away. 

“Meooowww.” He should’ve known better, it was his fault for locking her in there with him anyways. 

“Oh, Ginger,” he sighed, stuffy nose making him sound all nasally. And it was as if that was the permission the rather plump orange tabby needed to jump up on top of him like he was her human pillow, “Cain’t a man even have a few seconds alone.” To that, of course, she meowed at him in protest, ever the chatterbox. 

Steve quickly accepted his defeat to the tubby cat when she somehow still gracefully jumped off his ribs and onto the empty spot in bed next to him. The pale light of bright stars shining through his window, reflecting off of Ginger’s big round saucer eyes were the only thing giving his room any light. But it didn’t matter because soon after he shut his own eyes, focusing on the purring of the seemingly content cat next to him, half wishing to disappear, half wishing to go back out there and beat Billy to a pulp. Even if only for existing.

Billy, stupid Billy and his stupid white teeth and his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid everything.

Fuck this dinner, fuck this day, and most importantly fuck Billy Hargrove.

#Harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Accidentally posted this last night when it wasn't ready so here we go again LMAO #Cowboy AU #Farm AU #Whatever you wanna call itWFJIKIWF

[yandere-daze]

THANK YOU FOR THE RESPONSE FOR MY ASK AND HONESTLY I CAN'T AGREE MORE..... and I'm also here with another thought abt a certain type of reader!

I'm really curious about a reader that barely plays the game, but when they do open it they could play it for, let's say, 7 hours straight!

at the same time, they don't really have a definitive favorite, so they'd change the characters in their home screen and room regularly. being in the next character position just practically depends on the readers mood.

if I were to put myself as an example, well, I'm a valkp so I'd put them if I'm in a good mood! sometimes I'd changed to mama and arashi too, and other times I'd use a generator then constantly click on the character to see how they'd interact (and then respond like I'm actually talking to them but that is a bit embarrassing)

andd right now in jp I'm mainly having midori and koga in my home screen cause they have my current in game 5* (aka the favorite among the ones I actually have), I just think it's gonna be funny with how their dynamic cld be (my condolences to midori, probably)

I'M SO SORRY IF THIS IS TO LONG WAUGH I LOVE MY SCRIMBLOS SO MUCH.......

from 🖼️ anon ☆!!

Welcome back, 🖼 anon!! I´m happy to hear that you liked my response!! Please do feel free to share any and all thoughts or ideas you may have, no matter how minor, it´s really interesting to read ^^

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, possessiveness

A player that alternates between not playing at all and playing hours on end and doesn´t have a favorite character either

Oh you would be the death of them if you did someting like that, lol

The first time you´re alone for so long they get really worried and wonder why you aren´t coming back. Are you not interested in them anymore? Did they do something wrong that drove you away? Or did something happen to you at home? Were you safe???

They´re all worrying about you and one day, you just open the game again and it feels like a huge crisis was just averted. They would still love to know why you were gone for so long but at least you´re back now and they can spend more time with you! They´re so happy, their enthusiams probably increased from the withdrawal they went through for so long.

They almost don´t notice that you spent several hours playing the game, time goes by so quickly for them because they´re with the person they love most! But after some time, they do notice that you´ve been playing for way longer than is healthy so some of them may get a little worried for you. If you happen to have Nazuna or Yuzuru on your home screen you can definitely expect a voiceline from them telling you that it´s okay to take breaks sometimes and that they wish that you take proper care of yourself. It won´t help anyone if you get sick from playing too much, okay?

And then they freak out when you´re gone for a long time again kankfabf Should they not have said anything after all? Should they just have enjoyed the time they had with you???

Honestly this cycle keeps repeating for many many times until they eventually realize that this is just the way you play the game and that you´ll most likely return to them again. Which doesn´t mean that they don´t miss you when you´re gone :/ They´re all visibly tense during your absence, some more pessimistic ones wondering if this time you will leave them for good

And then there´s another factor they aren´t too happy about: No one knows who your favorite is! No one knows if they´ll finally get their turn this time because you keep changing the idols on your home screen or the ones you use when playing a life. Theoretically it´s nice because it gives everyone a better chance of getting to interact with you and get some time in the spotlight but no one is really happy with this.

Sure, you´ll choose them sometimes, but that´s not enough. They want to be special to you and not chosen by some random generator or something! They don´t want to share you with all the other idols who couldn´t possibly love you as much as they do! They´ll definitely try to use the time you give them to impress you to the best of their abilites. Maybe if they try really hard or show you their appreciation in their voice lines, you´ll grow fond of them and only put them on the home screen from now on?

They´ll certainly try!

#🖼 anon #ensemble stars #enstars #yandere ensemble stars x reader #yandere enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #yandere ensemble stars #yandere enstars #enstars x reader #ensemble stars self aware au #yandere self aware au #yandere self aware ensemble stars au #gn reader #yandere #cw yandere #cw obsession #cw possessiveness #yandere x reader

[amberthefantasy]

and the dragons danced?

chapter three: RHAENYRA II

Aegon looked better after a bath and a change of clothes. He had stopped shaking to, whatever her boys had said during the time they were alone together seemed to have calmed her brother down considerably.

Now he was standing behind one of the chairs in their dining hall, waiting for Rhaenyra and Daemon to join them so they could eat their meal. Jace and Luke either side of him, with their betrotheds beside them. Little Joffrey was saying something to his uncle, probably some childish question about some rumour or another. When the Rhaenyra and Daemon entered the light of the room and came into her brothers view, Aegon tensed, his shoulders pulling up and back stiffening. Gods, he couldn't even be in the same room as her without fear, how had it come to this?

Her and Daemon had spent the last hour looking back on the days they'd spent in King's Landing, picking apart the interactions they'd had with the greens, picking apart every word, every look, every flinch (yes, Aegon had flinched when Rhaenyra grabbed his arm during the dinner, that had been horrible to remember), every moment that they had spent in each other's presence. Noticing the way that Aegon never spoke to her, that Helaena never even looked in their direction. Aemond's undisguised anger (that was expected) but there was something else, something more when Daemon stepped between him and her sons, had it been fear? Some primal reaction to the words his mother had been whispering in his ear for years. 

"Mother," Luke called, turning his gaze from his younger brother to her, a smile spliting his face. Oh her sweet boy, always to happy to see her, to be near her. Joffrey jumped and turned towards the door at his brothers cry, instantly running to her side. Jace smiled, but only looked at her for a moment, his eyes instantly turning back to his uncle, eyes worried. 

"Hello father," Rhaena called, she smiled slightly, though she too was watching Aegon out of the corner of her eye, such a kind girl, always worrying for others. "Rytsas, zaldrītsos, how did you sleep?" Daemon asked.

"Well kepa," Baela cut in. "how did you rest?"

"Very well, tala," Daemon smiled at his eldest, "lekiatresy, what about you? Do you feel better after your bath?"

Aegon jolted as Daemon addressed him, "uhhh, I feel.... clea-ner than I... ha-ve in centuries, kepus," he stumbled over his valyrian.

"Jēdri," Jace corrected, "not centures, jēdri."

Aegon blushed at that, "oh, thank you Jacaerys." Rhaenyra shook her head slightly, of course, from what she remembered, Aegon had never payed much attention to his studies, learning just enough valyrian to control Sunfyre then losing interest. 

Daemon hummed, "your valyrian could use some work, but we can fix that." Aegon shrunk into himself some more, if that was even possible.

"Yes well," Rhaenyra cut in, "we can discuss Aegon's valyrian later, right now we should eat." Daemon nodded and both of them took their seats.

The children sat at once and Joffrey instantly reached for some food, turning back to his uncle, "well? is it true uncle?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, I don't, I don't remember what you asked," Aegon admitted, blushing again. 

"Is it true that you've been to every brothel in fleabottom?" Joffrey asked again. Rhaenyra spit her drink back into her goblet and Daemon let out a chocked sound. "JOFFREY! That is not appropriate for the table." Rhaenyra said sharply.

"Where did you even hear that?" Rhaena asked, looking at the youngest in question.

"One of the guards in the Keep said it when we were there," Joffrey shrugged, "and I never got a chance to ask."

"Joff-" Luke began, his tone chiding.

"It's okay Lucerys," Aegon said, "really," he added, turning to look at Rhaenyra, "I don't mind, he's just curious, as to answer your question Joffrey, I have no idea."

"Then you should try and keep track," Joffrey nodded, as if it was the most normal sentence in the world. 

"Alright," Daemon cut in before Aegon could respond, "I believe that's quite enough of that, eat your food, all of you." Joffrey pouted at his step-father, but began to eat all the same. His siblings and uncle copying him. Rhaenyra locked eyes with her husband and they shared an exasperated look, at least they weren't fighting.

--

Their meal was quiet after that, everyone eating their food silently, though Rhaenyra spotted the children sharing several glances. 

After they finished eating, Rhaenyra took a moment to let everyone settle, "Now, I believe that Daemon and I have some things to talk over with Aegon, and the rest of you have lessons to attend."

"But mother," Joffrey complained, but he didn't get to finish his sentence before Rhaena stood, walked over to him and began to guide him from the room. Luke let out a laugh when Joffrey made an offended noise, and began to follow them. Baela rolled her eyes and followed as well. Jace had stood to follow but then paused and glanced back at his uncle. "I am fine Jace, go you have studies to attend to," Aegon assured him. 

Jace scoffed, "like you care about studies," but he did as told and left the room, with one more glance back.

There was a moment of silence, "was... was there something you needed?" Aegon broke the silence.

Rhaenyra took a breath, she'd been thinking over what to say since Aegon had left her and Daemon earlier that morning, "yes there are quite a few questions we have for you Aegon, if you're comfortable with answering them?"

"I'm a guest in your home, ask anything you want," Aegon shrugged.

Daemon spoke first, "why do you think the king is dead?" Well, that was a question to ask first.

"I... I heard people, last night. I was, around the city-" Aegon paused, "-when I heard some people looking for me, they said that since father had died I was a valuable asset to have. When I understood what they were saying I snuck back into the keep, took Blackfyre and snuck back out. Then I mounted Sunfyre, told the keepers not to tell anyone I had left and flew for Dragonstone."

Daemon and Rhaenyra shared a look, if people were looking for Aegon... it lended some credance to the fact that her father might have passed. "I have people in King's Landing, we'll know for sure soon enough," Daemon said. Aegon sighed but didn't speak.

"Why did you come here?" Rhaenyra asked after another moment of silence. Aegon flinched. "Not that I am angry you did," Rhaenyra hastily added, "I was just wondering why, we have never been close," which was something she sorely regretted.

"I... as I said when I arrived, I am not fit to rule, I have no taste for it. When I heard that father might be dead, I know that my grandfather, the Hand, has been plotting for years to usurp you and place me on the throne instead." Aegon stopped and looked towards her, but Rhaenyra was not shocked at this news, Otto Hightower had been plotting to usurp her since Alicent married her father.

"I did not wish for that," Aegon continued after she didn't react, "so I did the only thing I could think of, I came to you."

Rhaenyra could swear her heart clenched at that, his first though was her? Oh...

"But why?" Daemon asked, "when you arrived you seemed quite sure that Rhaenyra would kill you the moment Viserys died, so why come here?"

Aegon didn't respond for a long moment, and he looked to be considering the question very deeply, "I think I... I just hoped it wasn't true," he admited, "That everything they had been saying about you was wrong, that I would be safe with my sister."

"You are safe Aegon," Rhaenyra confirmed, leaning towards him, "they were wrong." Aegon smiled at her shyly. "You said that 'they' had been saying then these things, who are they Aegon?" Though she already knew the answer, Rhaenyra still had to ask, and hope against all hope that she was wrong.

Aegon's mouth stuttered open, "oh, umm-"

"We will not be angry at you Aegon," Daemon said, in a softer voice than he had ever used around Alicen't children, "you are not at fault."

Aegon blinked, "my grandfather... and my mother," he finally spoke, wincing when the words left his mouth. The words hit Rhaenyra like a mace, of course, she had already worked out the truth before Aegon had spoken the words, but it still hurt to hear them said aloud. Alicent, her old friend, thought her vile enough to kill her own kin simply for the throne. Did she not know her better? Though Rhaenyra had thought she had known Alicent, until her wedding to Ser Laenor. Perhaps Alicent felt the same? 

Whatever the truth of it, there was no use dwelling on it now, Aegon was watching her with worried eyes, and Rhaenyra realised she must look upset. So she cleared her expression and smiled at her little brother. "Thank you for telling us."

"Wait a moment," Daemon suddenly said, "You said you snuck into and out of the Red Keep, does no one know you have left?"

"No? At the least, they didn't when I left, they might have noticed by now," Aegon responded.

Daemon nodded, "yes, they very well might have, well my contacts will know."

"Is that all?" Aegon asked after another moment of silence.

"There is one other thing," Rhaenyra said, as a question that had been on her mind since Aegon was still a boy came to mind, "your mother, does she... hit you?"

Aegon blanched, "w-what? no, she-"

"Aegon," Rhaenyra cut him off, "it's alright, there is no shame in this."

Aegon closed his eyes, then nodded, "mother, grandfather, sometimes Ser Criston, when I... when I don't meet their expectations," his eyes opened, "sometimes they do it to Helaena and Aemond too, though less than me."

Rhaenyra looked towards Daemon, his eyes had lit with fury at the confession, "Ser Criston? He has dared to lay his hands upon a Targaryen prince," the fury in his voice was palpable.

Aegon flinched and Rhaenyra layed a hand on Daemon's arm to calm him. "It's only happened maybe twice, he- he used to just get more violent in training." Aegon shrugged.

"That-" Daemon began, but stopped at Rhaenyra's head shake. "Thank you again, Aegon, for being to open with us," Rhaenyra said, giving her brother another soft smile, "and I promise you that you are safe here, no one will harm you."

He nodded but there was still a tenseness in his shoulders that Rhaenyra didn't like. "Can... can I go now?" Aegon asked, his silver hair falling into his face as he nodded towards the door.

"Yes, perhaps Sunfyre would like to see you?" Rhaenyra said.

"Yes, perhaps," Aegon responded as he stood, bowed once, and left the room quickly.

Both Rhaenyra and Daemon watched him go in silence, there were no words to say.

atdd masterlist / post masterlist

#fanfic #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #viserys' kids deserved to love each other #and I will make it happen #they love each other goddamnit #alicent girlies dont stress #i won't make her actually abusive #she just doesn't know how to parent and otto isn't exactly the best role model

[smol-feralgremlin]

FebruarOC Day 21: Ulric

A collection of snippets.

Ulric saw dark doorway and pulled Ves in after him. Carefully he pressed her against the wall and shuttered the lantern. With her breath soft and warm on his ear as he kept a hand at her waist, ready to shove her farther away from the door and any possible assailant that might come in, Ulric watched the shadows of the hall. His heartbeat battered his throat as the voices neared. "-should've kicked his head in if you ask me." "You're only saying that because you've never liked the Lion." "He's a dirty cheat. I swear he had iron in his fist at the end there. No one acts like that with just bruises" "You're still on about the other guy having broken ribs?" "That's what the cripple said when she paid for those boys to carry him out of there." One of the men made a rude noise as they moved too far for Ulric to hear anymore. Slowly he released his breath and considered beating daylights out of whoever had clearly been talking about Ves at the end. "Not worth it," Ves whispered. Ulric pressed his lips together. He rather disagreed with her about that. Before anything more could be done or said, Ves pressed her face into the side of his neck and sent a thrill through him as she spoke, her lips tracing her words into his skin. "Please, my love." Damn. "For you, I'll leave it," he said before backing up a step. "I didn't hurt you did I?" "You didn't hurt me," she assured him before taking his arm. With that they left again. This time Ulric was more cautious than before about their surroundings and who might still be around.

~

As he secured their room, Ves took the nights winnings from their hidden spots and adding it to the well secured chest that held the rest of the money they'd been saving. The sound of coins hitting more coins often soothed a person, but it had never soothed him and tonight it janked against his already overwrought nerves. This nights happenings kept playing in his head now and nothing he did was helping. He could only keep it back for so long. Human screams for violence turning into the dying screams of the battlefield and that of horses before he cut their- "Love." Ulric tensed at the voice before a crashing wave of relief and recognition overtook him and he dropped his shoulders. A cup of hot liquid was placed into his hands and the familiar scent of chamomile and mint rose from the steam to meet his nose. Calming tea to clear his head. He hadn't even noticed she was making it, or that his mouth and throat had gone dry. Ignoring the heat, he inhaled the scent of it as he took the first sip from the half full cup that shook in his hands. "Thank you," he managed to wheeze. "I shouldn't have moved the money," she said softly, apologetically. "I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry."

~

"What do you think you're doing with that thing!" The wolf cowered immediately at the shout. Ulric stayed still so he didn't cause more distress to the poor animal than it already had. "I'm looking at the wolf," he said steadily. "Get away from it." Ulric sat back on his heels and looked in the direction of the shouting. "Why? It's not harming me." The woman scowled at him. "Another one of you bleeding hearts? Don't go messing with the rope or anything then, or touching it. Gods help you if you touch it and it passes the madness." The woman's scowl softened to a frown. "We don't want to burn another person." "This wolf doesn't have the madness," Ulric pointed out. "Obviously its been here for awhile. It would've gone mad by now." "They all have the madness. Don't touch it." She stomped off with a swirl of her pelt as Ulric glared after her. He spat to the side. Bleeding heart now, was he? The wolf whined and Ulric returned his attention to it. It stopped cowering and reached it's nose out to him. He stretched out his hand and felt the first inquisitive lick of a near dry but still warm tongue on his fingertips. "I'll get you out of here, cousin," he whispered while looking into its cloudy yellow eyes.

~ The mules ears twitched again before their heads came up. Ves watched as they looked back towards down. The bare branches rubbed against each other and she read a warning in those creaks. Before she had time to puzzle it all out, the mules shifted and grunted and she turned to see Ulric hurrying towards her, his cloak bundled awkwardly in his arms. A bundle that had a tail hanging out of it. Ves abandoned her staff and limped to the first of the mules. Ila briefly fought her but gave up once Ves clicked her tongue in vexation while sharply tugging on her lead. Ulric gently hoisted his bundled wolf up into the cart and then leapt down to land in a crouch not far from her. Ila reared slightly and Ves glared at her borderline audacious husband as he brushed himself of snow and gravel. "No time," he said breathlessly taking Ila's lead from her hand. "I need you with him to keep him quiet and look at his leg."

Lowering his sword, Ulric narrowed his eyes and studied the man who could only be Karington. A cousin, because he was too old to be Rayak’s son. One that Ulric had never met or known the existence of before. Not too surprising, not really. And it made fleeing even more unlikely than if it had been some secretary or another. Kirill growled and Ulric looked over his shoulder before turning to meet the people who approached, both hands on his sword again. “They’re just making sure you don’t try to escape,” Karington said. “You’ve already slipped through too many times. And you’re needed at home.” Ulric didn’t move. “Tell them to back down.” “Ulric-” “Tell them to back down!” He wasn’t about to chance anyone at his fucking back. His breath rasped in his throat. Carefully he shifted his grip as he stared down the men behind him. Too many people surrounded him. He’d been through a fight like this, but it had been a bitter fight for survival that had left him half-dead. The injury that had nearly crippled his shoudler had been sustained in that fight. And he’d done that with Ves safely behind their lines. She was here now though.  A gust took out the lantern closest to them. Ulric flinched as oil and fire went spilling to the ground. None of it was close to hitting him, but the scent of burning flesh and screaming animals lingered in his mind. Instead of spilling in one spot and slowly eating the dead grass around it, the fire lanced straight through between Ulric and the armed men, cutting them off from each other. “My husband told you to order your men to stand down.” He should’ve guessed. Breathing only a little easier, Ulric turned so he could see both sides lined up on either side of them, with Ves at his back. He should’ve known she’d have his back in any way possible. Kirill shifted and came between his legs, pressing against the one closest to the fire. “You’re both perfectly safe,” Karington replied. “And we can’t be sure of your intentions for our safety when you’ve refused to do even the minimum of assuring us of that. Stand your men down, please. We won’t run.” Well, he’d been considering it. But Ves had now given her word and he couldn’t invalidate it with his conscience intact. He didn’t lower his sword either though. Too many times he’d trusted people at their word, and more scars than he wished to admit to having had been the result.

~

“He’s barely limping now,”” Ulric observed as he watched Kirill trot alongside Ves as if he was prepared to catch her should she fall for any reason. “I was worried that he would be crippled for life,” Ves replied, moving her armful of small blankets when Ulric made a faux pass at trying to take them from her. “A few more weeks of good feeding and you’ll have to start teaching him how to behave.” “I though we were going to find him a new pack and release him.” Ves eyed him from under her thick brows. “You think he hasn’t already found himself a pack?” “Well–” “You also expect me to believe you haven’t been wanting to keep him?” Heat bloomed along his cheeks as he dropped his eyes. “I can explain…” Silence stretched between them as Ulric tried to find the words he desperately needed in this moment. But they all escaped him, pulling just out of reach. He knew that Ves was reading into his mental floundering and finally he sighed. “He’s a good companion.” Ves only smiled as she shook her head. He walked behind her with the harnessing around his arms and shoulders, face still warm.

~

“Alesey is a sorcerer,” she says quietly. “I can’t do anything against that.” “And you think I can?” Ulric looked between the two people asking far too much of him.“Fuck me, I’m just a man like most others.”

~

Ulric faced down the man in front of him, wooden sword in his hand. His opponent had a similar sword and stood with ease, used to this. Scowling at the sword in his hands, Ulric moved to the left, one foot over the other as carefully as he always did. Too careful and he’d betray anxiety. Too slow and he’d look stupid. Karington had seen him, he’d know Ulric knew how to fight. But it didn’t matter what he or anyone else said. The general in charge of seeing where Ulric was in skill was the one  who’d have final say on things. The general stood to the side, watching this bout. Kirill sat further away from the man and Ulric drew a little of his wolf-cousins image just to steady himself. He had never liked being examined like this. This was clean and sanitized, and Ulric had learned most of his skill in the blood-soaked dirt of war. It wasn’t right to be judged like this. He’d proven himself already. His opponent, a younger man and an officer in the military who stood taller than Ulric but with as broad of shoulders. Not as much of the bulk though. Ulric knew some of the younger men sneered at him, thinking he’d gotten old, fat, and wasn’t as much of a force as he had been when he was younger. This pup of an officer was in that group. Even now he watched him with a smirk on his thin lips. Good. If he was over confident in his skill and the outcome of this bout, Ulric could take him down easier. Thirty-some wasn’t old, and his bulk hid years of fighting muscle kept up under steady, hard labour. A few good hits would see this officer on the ground like a felled log. The officer came at him first, charging him down, no doubt thinking to overwhelm him with his height and speed. Ulric moved quickly to defend himself. The ensuing clack of their swords against each other echoed in the yard. The officer backed off from his failed attack and Ulric leapt straight into a counter-attack. Surprised, the officer moved to defend himself. His footwork got sloppy as he was forced onto the defensive, trying to fend Ulric off. Only when Ulric needed a short bit of reprieve did he back off. Unlike the officer though, he fell back into a position he was ready to defend from.  The officer stood in place, eyes wide with baffled surprise. In that moment Ulric knew that this pup of a man had never seen combat before. Something like that shouldn’t have surprised him. First rule of combat is that you don’t know jack fucking shit and your training meant dick all once someone started bleeding.

#He just wanted to be a farmer #everything else just happened #februaroc #februaroc 2024 #gremlin writing #writeblr #original writing #Wolf King

[diathacorny]

More story concept thingies by moi. Not much to say, but lemme know whatcha think, y'know? My birthday is in a couple days, so I'm excited for that, but I'll be extra happy if ppl were to comment their thoughts:)

Title: Eight Days Of L¿ve

Basically a girl who was transported to a different world for almost a year finds a way to go back. But she no longer wants to leave, and the only way she can leave is by true love’s kiss. The thing is, she isn't in love, and none of her companions feel that way for her, though they're desperate for her to stay. That's when one of her closest friends steps up, offering to be her true love. But, they don't love each other like that! And they only have eight days to fall in love.

(I kinda don't like this one, tbh, idk. Current era, btw)

(Same girl, kinda - alternative - not rlly. Current era, btw)

Title: Alicorn

“That was almost thirty years ago, and it was nothing more than just a dream. A weird one..” Forty-seven, almost fort-eight, it was a very long time ago for this old girl. Compared to how she was in that dream, she was pretty different. To everyone she was The It Girl, but as an older gal in the face of reality, she looked like any other mid age woman you'd see at a grocery store. Just a bit of a loser, never married, never had children, and really just some lame old librarian (sounds like the life for me, lol, jk). “Life is simple, can't complain, and at least I get paid. Then again, the pay really is ass..” If the people in her dream saw how she is now, they would have never guessed. Two days after her forty-eighth birthday, another tired night of sleeping on a hardass mattress and papers of bills that have yet to be paid, she wakes up to be falling through the air. And next thing she knows, she's back in her dream - thirty years later in Alice Sworn (idc I already have several characters named Alice, I'll name a whole world Alice, idgaf).

(Entirely different thing now. 1700’s)

Title: Man In The Box (And yes, HIS NAME IS ALICE, I DO NOT CARE, HIS NAME JUST *HAD* TO BE ALICE. It's just too perfect in his case. For bg, I have *several* characters named Alice.)

A young man (Alice) who was abused all his life, scorned and ridiculed, and literally the only job people would let him take was the jester in a box. He'd pop out, they'd throw all sorts of matter at him - smeared makeup, clothes stained from either rotten food or blood, either way it hurt his feelings and his body. He never understood why everyone treated him like this (his parents had the black plague, he doesn't know this, peeps won't tell him shit to keep up their laughs), but he wants to be seen, seen beyond just an object of entertainment that no one directly touches. Not even a prostitute paid handsomely would touch him, so he automatically had to sigh and turn his gaze downwards when he spotted a daughter of an aristocrat brushing out her hair, sitting ever prettily at her open window. “A beauty, yes, but I? No.. She'd soon scoff and order me to be pummeled for existing in her rich perfume-sprayed world.” In an alleyway, as he slept, cultists took him away, finding him to be quite convenient, nobody would give a shit if he went missing. Eyes flutter open - “Ah, it's waking up.” - lights are bright, eyes squeeze shut - “It needs a moment to process.” - and eyelids shoot open once he realizes people are talking. He looks around, automatically freezing up as he sees that he's chained down to a.. Stage of sorts..? “You're on a sacrificial altar. You are to be sacrificed to our deity, our reason..!!” One of the cultists said, his hands hailing the ground. Alice sputtered, weak wrists attempt to pull out of the rusted bonds, “Y-You- You can't! This isn't right! What the fuck is happening!? Let me go!!” He sputtered and yelled with fear, hardly understanding what was happening, though it was (loosely) explained. The cultists all laugh together, and one of the women are heard saying, “Oh, look at that.. It's panicking! Hahaha!” Alice can only look at them all, their voices mixing in with an ear ringing effect in his head. He speaks again, “Why are you doing this to me?? What did I ever do to you?!” One of the men replies, “Simple. Nobody cares about you, nobody wants ya, so you going missing.. We're practically doing the streets a favor!” And with that last sentence, the cultists jeer and chortle again, truly making the fool a fool. “Aren't you called the thing in the box? Oh, don't worry, we'll make sure to mark your grave as ‘Man In The Box’, since no one was ever willin’ to see you as a man!” More malicious mockery is heard, insults barely audible with all the noise and Alice's inner turmoil. Anxiety causes him to choke and cough on nothing, breaths coming out heavy and sharp, “I don't want to die- I don't want to die!” The cultists together reply, “He who is breathing, yet unliving, is dead. He who has suffocated, yet living, is alive. You are dead and breathing, so we'll give you the ‘life' you never had,” the cultists all hold up a long knife at his chest, and then it thrusts down into his chest. — ‘Everything is black, no.. There's flickering of lights. Am I blinking? I can't seem to be able to control what's happening.. People are screaming, I can taste something so delicious and juice inside of my mouth.. Something I never tasted before. I want more, I need more, it tastes so good..’ — ‘When I open my eyes, all those people who were going to kill me.. They're all dead - torn apart, mangled. As if a great, big and terrible beast has gotten to them. I lick my lips subconsciously, that deliciousness lingering on my tongue like nothing else has. Now that I think of it, it tastes just like a pomegranate. I blink and look around, really taking this all in. Surprisingly, I don't feel so scared anymore, not even as I stare at dead bodies that I don't know the cause of death for. There's something that seems to be so natural about this.. I'll just collect my clothes and go.’ (Dawg got turned into a vampire and doesn't even realize it yet, crazy. Yolo, ig)

#writing #almost my birthday #what's on your mind #oc #oc writing #art #I'm not awesome at writing ik #i'm doing my best

[volatilechemicalz]

I'm gonna go to bed so here's all of the sleep deprived writing I've done for part 3

(Under the cut just incase you wanna wait or smt)

A small sob escapes their throat, which makes it harder to hold back the tears that burn in their eyes. They hated it. They hated it so much. Ve wouldn't even look at them. Not a single glance. Not even now, when they were on the verge of breaking down into incoherent sobs. They knew why ve hated them. Like they said, they would feel the same.

It didn't make it hurt any less.

They weren't sure why it felt like this. Like they'd been hit where it hurt most. Maybe they expected ver to get along with them. Accept them. They were the same person, after all. From wildly different timelines, yes, but they still had the same name.

They quickly realized that this was a stupid thought. The problem was that ve had witnessed a war that was caused by the very thing that possessed them. The thing that had killed all of ver siblings and verself at one point was in them, and it was painfully clear. With the eyes and the patterns, it wasn't like they could hide it. Although now they wished that they'd tried.

Nothing could change either of these things. They knew that, of course, but it didn't help in the slightest. When ve was around the others, ve smiled and laughed a little. Ve was nice and even joked around sometimes, like everything was as it should be.

But as soon as they entered the room, ve wasn't like that. Ve got a certain look on ver face (one that they absolutely hated, because it was one that they couldn't decipher) and left the room. Occasionally ve would stay, but their presence would be completely ignored no matter how hard they tried.

They regretted addressing this. They should've kept their thoughts as internal ones and not external ones, but it was too late for that now. They knew this wouldn't change anything because when they looked over, the second they spoke, ve had that expression on ver face again. Still refusing to look at them.

#noodle talks #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #tmnt #save rottmt #shitty drabble time #drabble #yetd #yellow eyes in a turtle disguise #f!donnie #this is going to be the death of me #im gonna write so many words #hopefully #if i dont die in the process

[mercurygray]

from the holiday prompt list: midnight and molly (and a side of tab perhaps?) it seems only right i put in my first request since declaring my new fav (sorry, eileen, i still love you) ❤️

Issie, thank you so much for this prompt, as it gave me an excuse to do something I've been meaning to do for a little bit here - a new AU! The War Ended And We Went Home To Other People. (Sadly, however, Floyd does not feature. I think you'll like the new guy, though.)

He would be glad to see the end of 1945.

Andy Haldane had been just this side of alive on New Year's Eve of 1944, doped up on more morphine than a human ought to admit to, but he was alive, if only just. He'd spent most of this year slowly climbing back out of the well of the war, out of this hospital and that rehabilitation ward, slowly moving eastward until his mother and father could come and visit on Sundays, take a walk with him around the garden.

He was ashamed of those Sundays. There wasn't a whole lot left of the son they'd sent to war now - the darling of the gridiron and the college dorm was happy enough to be shuffling along on crutches most days, and counted it a good day if he didn't have to take a nap after lunch. How he'd worked, before the war! His parents had saved so hard to get him to Bowdoin - first in his family to take a degree, to have their picture in the paper. A man who was going to go places, that's what he was - until that sniper made his position on the ridge.

He could remember where he was when they said the war was over - VE day and VJ both. Different hospitals, on different coasts. He couldn't get out of bed on VE day - some of the others jumped out of beds and ran down halls, throwing things out of windows and banging thier bedpans, just to make a racket. VJ day he'd been here, in Boston, with a lot of army types who'd been flown in from Europe to convalesce. It wasn't their war, and somehow that meant it mattered just a little less.

Some of those men were gone now, replaced with different faces and different voices. Different nurses, now, too, different volunteers on the wards. The young USO wives were mostly gone, to houses in the suburbs and returning husbands, probably, and in their place were mothers whose sons had not come home, trying to atone by mothering boys whose own mothers were too busy to come.

Which made her stand out in more ways that one. Young, for starters, but without that innocence that the young wives had all shared, the perfect nylons and dainty handbags and ladies home journal magazine cookies. She came in slacks, some days, with a bookbag that always seemed to be full of journals and notes, but useful things, too - the racing papers and the sports pages and comic books. Jokes, too, in the free and easy way of a girl who has had brothers. "Hey, Mahoney," someone or other would call, and she'd catch for the ball or lob the greeting back, delivering letters and newspapers and news of the world. She was a student, over at the college - a doctoral thesis on something historical. She didn't talk about it much with them - but never looked down on the guys who'd barely finished eighth grade and stumbled through reading the funny pages, either.

Andy wondered, a lot, about why she volunteered - but one day, when the weather had turned colder he watched her pull a fatigue jacket out of her bag and realized she was missing the war because she'd been in it herself.

"You're a woman of a lot of surprises, Miss Mahoney," he said, nodding to the jacket and the faded stripes on her sleeve. "Or was it Sergeant?"

"You sure it isn't my boyfriend's?" She asked, a slight edge to her voice, the syllables wrapped cautiously around the handle of a knife like she might have to slash out with it. How many people had made that accusation before?

"It fits you like you broke it in," he said, and meant it. He'd never had clothes that fit better than the dungarees he'd worn on the canal, sleeping day in and day out in them until the elbows and knees were just so. That was her jacket, lived and suffered in, and anyone who'd worn OD would know it to see it.

She nodded, smiling, and he looked closer, at the patches on the shoulder, the darns and repairs on the collar. "You were a paratrooper." That experimental outfit everyone talked about - with that famous woman. Jean? Jane? He couldn't remember the name.

She nodded. "506th Regiment - Company E. Two combat jumps, one purple heart, three campaign ribbons, combat infantry badge, expert marksman."

As decorations went it was quite a list. "Why did you never say? None of those guys in there know."

She scoffed. "We had a joke, in my unit. How will they know which company we are? Because the girls are Easy." She looked down at her hands, swallowed nervously. "It hit different when you were in a room full of people who knew you. Here, back home, I'm just…someone who didn't know her place - borrowed some other guy's chance at glory." She tried to smile. "Still miss it, though. That's why I come. Here I'm…the kid sister, or the girl down the street. No one questions how I know what I know, and I can…give back, a little. For the guys who didn't make it home."

"I'd like to hear about it, sometime. If you feel like talking."

She nodded, in the way that said she'd think about it, and he let he matter rest. The next week she brought bear claws from a bakery down the street, big and sweet and messy, and they sat in the courtyard eating them and getting thier fingers stuck to flimsy paper napkins. She told him about her brother, a navy man who'd died at Pearl Harbor, and leaving college so she could join the WAC. He talked about Bowdoin, and Parris Island. She talked about the guy she'd had some hopes with, and the news that he'd married a woman in England, that they were having a baby, and he found himself itching to fight. They both talked about food, about boats and being sick as dogs, about being cold and wet and scared. Andy found himself naming names he hadn't said aloud in a long time, stories that were still somehow funny even if they were also sad.

He asked his mother to bring stationary, on her next Sunday visit, to write to Ed's family, and find out what happened to Burgin and Sledge. "Who are you writing to?" she asked, looking hopeful. "A girl?" When he said no, her face fell a little. "You had a look in your eye, is all. Hadn't seen that there for a while."

Well, I'm not writing to her, he wanted to say. But there is a girl. A woman? A someone. Wishful thinking, though. She could do better than a broken down old Marine.

But new years were for new beginnings, weren't they? And he needed all the help he could get. So, here he was, a few minutes to midnight and ready to bid farewell to 1945. The crutches were mostly gone, now, and he did pretty well with his cane. He'd actually taken the time to get dressed for this one - no pajamas and robe for him, no sir. He found her in the dayroom over by the record player, keeping an eye on things while the candy stripers danced patiently with men who were still learning the use of their prosthesis, or braces, or what have you. And she didn't shoo him away, either - glad for the company, or the excuse to keep turning down dances she didn't want to do.

When the clock struck midnight he turned to look - she looked ashamed, almost, like she didn't want to expect anything, awkward in a room full of kissing couples and falling confetti and stray balloons and Guy Lombardo on the radio. "Molly," he said, and when she turned to look at him he kissed her, his nose bumping her own. She'd taken some pains with her hair and it hung in soft honey ringlets around her face, her skin soft with some scent he couldn't name.

For a moment neither of them spoke. "Sorry," he offered, practically shouting to be heard above the noisemakers. "It's been a while since I kissed a pretty girl, I'm a little out of practice."

She was blushing a little, but she didn't look angry, either. That was something, wasn't it? "No apology needed, Captain."

"Molly, it's Andy." You know it's Andy. It's been Andy for weeks now.

She smiled. "Andy. Happy New Year."

He decided to go further. "Maybe another for good luck?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled wider, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Oh, go on then."

He decided 1946 could stay, if it liked.

#i have written a thing #the war ended and we went home with other people #all the alternate universes #molly mahoney #mercurygraypresents

[faofinn]

No. 24 "I"ve got a head full of chemicals, mouth full of ridicule."

Goodbye Note | Neglect | "I thought they were with you." 

READ CAREFULLY - This prompt contains graphic descriptions of attempted suicide (unsuccessful). Reader discretion advised. Trigger warning for depression, poor meds management, and attempted suicide.

Harrison's transition back to civilian life was far from smooth. Of course, he'd never expected it to be, but he'd also never expected to end his career on medical leave, with one less leg than he started with. Or without Marcus by his side. He'd tried, for the most part. It was far from easy, and most of his time was spent wishing he'd not made it out of Afghan. 

Being Fao's roommate had brought its own challenges, and he'd  have been lying if he said Fao's attempt hadn't hurt him. Or felt jealous that he'd almost succeeded. He wasn't without his own attempts, but they were just as unsuccessful. 

Finally discharged, he'd been staying with Steve -it just made sense with the lack of stairs. They'd started the process of prosthetics, but it was slow going, and they'd been trying to get to that point for the past year. It still gave him pain, as did most of his injuries, but the GP had told him that he should have been over it by now. Not that he understood any part of it.

He attended his therapy as he was supposed to, but he'd slipped back into old habits, waking up still drunk the day after a binge. Steve tried, offering ultimatum after ultimatum with no change. He confiscated the alcohol almost daily, but Harrison somehow found more, sleeping rough when he couldn't figure out how to get home, his last pennies spent on alcohol.

"Outpour... magnesium.... Chinese... together." Harrison had long since zoned out as Steve chatted away, staring through the tv. "Harrison. Harrison."

He jumped, scowling "What?"

"I was saying we could get a takeaway tonight, once I'm back from my meetings." Steve repeated, unperturbed by Harrison's outburst. "I won't be there long, I should be back by four. What are you doing this afternoon?"

He shrugged. "As if I'm doing anything"

Steve sighed. "Why don't you go and see Fao? Finn was saying he was missing you."

"Why?"

"Why does he miss you? Gee, I don't know, maybe because you've gone radio silence on him again? Yeah, I know things. It would do you both good. I'll even leave you taxi money - if you promise to just use it for that, no alcohol." 

"Whatever."

"Alright, then. There's a tenner on the bench. I'll see you at four, okay. Be safe, I love you." Steve moved to hug Harrison, used to his grumbles. 

"Love you too." Harrison mumbled quietly. "Enjoy your meetings." 

"Maybe when Hell freezes over!" Steve joked, halfway out the door. "Be safe!"

Steve's departure left Harrison alone with his thoughts again. He couldn't focus on the TV, no matter what he tried to put on. He tried reading, finding one of Steve's old medical textbooks to leaf through, though that was completely useless, as was his attempt to read fiction. He ended up flopped on his bed, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling.

The thought of visiting Fao crossed his mind, and he made it as far as to call him. There was a slight flare of hope that he'd be able to go over, to take his mind off the nagging behind his thoughts. But, of course, Fao didn't answer. He tried again, hope becoming slightly more desperate. Still no answer. The sob came from nowhere, his phone thrown across the room. The straw that broke the camel's back, the final push that he needed.

He grabbed his bag from the corner of his room, shoving his meds and a spare change of clothes, not that he'd need it. He had a secret stash of alcohol in his wardrobe, one that Steve had yet to find. That, of course, was thrown in, his evening planned out. The letters had been written for months, originally part of a therapy session, but recently an escape. He left them by the tenner, not prepared to take the money. It would just be salt in the wound for Steve, he was sure.

Harrison took his crutches too, not trusting his prosthesis in the slightest. It was cooler out than he'd  expected; it had been a few weeks since he'd left the house. He pulled his coat closer, over his chin and past his fingers. He had the route planned, and it really didn't take long to get there.

A secluded piece in empty woodland, next to the pond that always froze in winter. There was a clearing slightly further in, up a small hill and through the overgrowth. To most, it was nothing, completely hidden away, but once you'd been there once, it was easy to find. He'd been going there since he'd moved in with Steve, had spent more than a few nights there with Fao, passing a joint between them. For old time's sake, he settled on the rock by the stream, rummaging for his lighter. The first inhale made him cough, and he had to laugh at how useless he'd become. It made his head spin, quietened the doubt that he should stay. He lay on his back, squinting his eyes as he tried making out shapes in the clouds. He took his meds with a swig of vodka, staring at the bottle of oramorph he had before finishing that, too. It would be alright, he was sure.

Things had already become hazy from the alcohol and weed, and he closed his eyes, only more than a little tempted to doze. The ringing of his phone started him and he frowned at it for a good thirty seconds before he answered.

"Hey, Tomcat. Sorry I missed your call. You alright?"

 Oh, Fao. He hummed. "'m 'kay." 

"Were you sleeping?" there was guilt in his tone. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I know how hard it is to get there in the first place."

"Wasn't sleepin'".

"Is everything alright? The slur to his words had not gone unnoticed.

"Mm? Oh, will be." He murmured. "It will be."

Something about everything had Fao on edge. "What are you up to?"

"Jus' relaxin'."

"Yeah? Want to come over? I"m free from physio now." He didn"t trust Harrison to be alone, nothing sitting right as he headed to find Sheila. 

"No, 'm busy." He slurred, taking too long to reply.

"Hars, where are you? What have you done?" 

Fao's tone was sharp, slicing through the buzz he had. "What?"

"I know you've done something, please, Tomcat, talk to me?" He muted his side. "Mum? Harrison's done something stupid."

Sheila looked up, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I think he's hurt himself."

She paled. "Where is he? Where's Steve?".

"Just chillin', Fao." Harrison's voice broke through. "You're stressin' too much, so 'm gonna go."

"No, no, hey. I'll stop. Want me to come sit with you? I won't do anything." 

Harrison dragged the hum out. "Nah, I"m good." The drag set him coughing again "God, 'm out of practice. Anyway your hip would never get you here."

Fao frowned, though realisation was quick to dawn once more on mute, he turned to his mum with wide eyes. "I know where he is. You need to call the police, ambulance, whoever, and we need to go."

Sheila knew better than to doubt or question him, jumping up to grab her car keys and phone. "Let's go."

Harrison's responses grew more lacking as Sheila drove, the speed limits only a suggestion. Despite the pain screaming at him, Fao was out of the car almost before it had stopped.  Sheila was quick to follow, anxiety curling in her stomach. They'd almost made it to the clearing when sirens and lights appeared. Sheila turned to fao and nodded.

"You go. I'll direct them."

Harrison looked like absolute shit, Pale and barely breathing, Fao wasn't convinced he'd made it on time. Despite his knee and hip screaming in protest, he fell to his knees beside his friend, shaking his shoulder.

"Hars, Tomcat, please, please don"t do this." 

That earned a grunt in reply, Harrison struggling to open his eyes. Fao. A smile flickered across his lips.

"Harrison." Fao breathed. "What have you done? God, you're an idiot, just hold on."

Harrison had zero idea what Fao was saying, the darkness calling to him, a final relief from all of his pain and dark days. Fao's hand in his hair was nice though, comforting, and he let his eyes close. 

"No, no, no, please. Hars, Tomcat please. Please don't do this."

There was a sudden flurry of activity, medics and police swarming the place. Fao was gently displaced so they could work, though he refused to let go of his hand. It was a lifeline, as if Fao's trembling grip could keep Harrison in this world. Words were thrown about, decisions made, and drugs given.  Sheila hung back, though stayed as close as she could, watching everything carefully.

In the silence once more, half the responders having left for the trolley and more kit, Fao's phone was loud, making everyone jump

"Please tell me you've heard from Harrison, or that he's at yours. Please." Steve's voice cracked, desperation clear. Fao swallowed past the lump in his throat, but he couldn't talk. He passed the phone wordlessly to Sheila, returning his focus to his best friend in front of him.

"Steve…"

"Sheila? What's going on?"

"We're with Hars, but he's not in a good way. She took a shaky breath. "The ambulance is here, they're looking after him."

Steve's heart sank and he found himself on the kitchen floor. "No, no, please, no. There's letters, he's left goodbye notes, Sheila, please."

"I know." Her own voice wavered. "He's taken his meds and a lot of alcohol, but Fao rang him, knew something was wrong, they've just given naloxone and we're gonna be heading to the hospital in a second"

"Where are you? Outside?"

"By the burn, yeah." She said softly checking which hospital and relaying it over. "We'll meet you there, okay? We'll stay with him, I promise."

After a few more moments of tense conversation, the pair hung up. Harrison's observations had started to improve, and, with a low groan, Harrison vomited, Fao barely moving his mask in time

"There you go. Get it up, better out than in." Fao murmured, rubbing his back. "You're okay." 

Harrison groaned in response, his body shivering and shaking against his control. Hars tried pushing the mask from his face, but his trembling hands were met by Fao's, gently moving them away.

"Ah, leave that you're okay."

Harrion cracked his eyes open. Fao. "Wolfie."

"That's it, we've got you." He leant down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Just hold on."

#sorry harrison #harrison cunningham #fao blackwood #steve cunningham #whumptober 2023 #no 24 #goodbye note #suicide attempt #suicide attempt tw #tw depression #tw suicide #self harm #tw alcoholism #alcohol tw

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Veritaserum. James. whatever

Sirius Pov, genderfluid Sirius

Sirius honestly thought it was a good idea. Slip a little Veritaserum into James drink at dinner and see what happens.

She was just going to ask what he wanted for his birthday.

It wasn't until after that had been answered (A special edition copy of Alice in Wonderland) Sirius realised they had a problem.

As Remus dutifully reminded her, the effects of Veritaserum last for four hours.

Thankfully not much attention was on the Marauders that night as two Ravenclaws, Benjy Fenwick and Caradoc Dearborn, began very loudly protesting the rules against couples sharing a room- they'd been separated the previous morning. In the end their head of house decided it wasn't worth the headache and allowed the boys to remain together.

They snuck James back to the doom quickly while the ruckus was dying down. Nobody payed them any heed as they left. Save maybe for a few first years who idolised them above anything else.

They didn't tell James, of course. Peter didn't know either, but that was for convenience. Telling him would mean leaning across the table to whisper and risk James, sitting beside him, would find out anyway.

So, when Peter asked what was going on Sirius motioned to Remus to fill him in, choosing for herself the infinitely worse job of informing James.

At sixteen Sirius desperately hoped James had matured too much to curse her for her stupidity.

James sat on his bed and Sirius took a spot across from him on Peter's. "I have to tell you something." James blurted out, just as Sirius said, "We need to talk."

James smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, do you want to go first?"

Sirius nodded. Something told her James didn't need to tell her anything.

"The floor is yours, Mx. Black-Potter," Despite herself, Sirius grinned. "go ahead."

"Thanks." Her grin fell, "So me and Remus-"

"Don't bring me into this." Remus called harshly, cutting her off.

Sirius swore, "Fine. I learned to brew Veritaseum with Remus' help, but I swear, he is innocent-"

"She's not." Sirius scrubbed a hand down her face.

"We're getting there." James narrowed his eyes, "I slipped Veritaserum into your drink during dinner. Surprise!" Sirius closed her eyes in anticipation- surely James was going to hit her?

After what felt like forever, James grabbed Sirius arm and shook her gently. She opened her eyes and saw he was kneeling on the floor in front of her, "Sirius?" She nodded, "I'd never do that, okay?" Sirius blinked, then nodded slowly.

"However," He said, and Sirius knew she wasn't getting off scot-free, "I do want to know what in Merlin made you think that was a good idea."

"I came up with it on a "male" day?" James laughed,

"That'll do it." He shoved her shoulder. "Maybe run these ideas past Remus next time, huh?"

"Good idea." Remus called and they all laughed. Peter, who was oddly quiet until now perked up,

"What did you want to tell us before, James?"

Sirius clamped her hand over James' mouth, shooting Peter a death glare. "Is this something you actually want us to know?" She asked.

James considered it for a moment, then shook his head. Sirius nodded as she slowly took her hand away.

"Sorry James." Peter grimaced. He came to sit beside Sirius on his bed.

James chuckled, "It's no problem Pete, nothing important. Just private."

Sirius stood up, she dug in her pockets for the vial she nicked from Slughorn's office earlier in the day. Once she had a hold of it, offering it to James seemed like the most logical option. Remus was most likely to choose revenge and put it in her drink at the earliest chance and Peter would probably lose it within ten minutes.

So James.

She held it in the palm of her hand, "Here." Sirius held it out to him, "Better with you than me." James smiled as he took it. He slipped it into his cloak pocket.

"We just had a very domestic moment there, didn't we?" Sirius snorted, Remus laid a hand on her shoulder as he sat down, grinning.

James stood up, "Sorry but I'm very late."

Like the rabbit, Sirius thought.

"Late?" Remus asked. "For what?"

Sirius realised first, before James. "Wait-"

"I'm going to go to the astronomy tower and debate existence. Regulus might be there, he is sometimes. Most of the time." James face fell as soon as the words left his lips. He slowly began to back away from Sirius. She didn't move, or say a word for quite some time.

"Sirius?" Remus tried.

Then Peter, "Sirius, are you okay?"

Eventually James tried his hand. "You're freaking us out, Sirius."

It was then she just started laughing. Cackling almost like Mary when she's had too much to drink.

"It took Veritaserum for you to finally admit it?" She asked in between bouts of laughter, "I almost wanted to see just how long it would take you."

Sirius had known for weeks. Ever since Christmas- you couldn't stay in the same house as those two and not hear the creaking floorboards in the middle of the night, or hushed whispers in the shadows. She was hurt at first, because they didn't tell her.

It had been four months, Sirius didn't have it in her to be bitter anymore.

When she looked up James was still there, gaping. "Well? Don't keep my brother waiting Prongs."

James ran. Actually sprinted out of the room.

Peter looked like he was on the edge of fainting. Remus simply had an amused expression on his face, "How did you know?"

Sirius shrugged, "Darling, Sherlock Holmes is nothing compared to me."

#be glad I didn't go with my original (angst) plan for this #i posted angst yesterday so y'all get off easy #if you want the angst I can do part two #fuck jk rowling #marauders #fuck jkr #marauders era #regulus black #writing #hp #james potter #evan rosier #sirius black #Peter Pettigrew #remus lupin #the marauders #the marauders era #the marauders fandom #microfic #fanfiction #fanfic #my eye hurts #ffs #veritaserum #genderfluid sirius black

[clown-demon]

TEN Q’S:

1. When are you usually online? 

Depends on the day and how much stuff I have at work. Typically I'm on in the morning from 4am-7am. Then I go to work and usually return around 12pm-1pm. But on holidays I'm usually gone for eight hours or more.

2. What verses are you involved in outside of this page? 

I don't really have other verses? I just throw my muses into another world. I excuse it as Nikolai portaling to another world through his ability. Just cuz he can travel far distances with magic-- I figured I could say it's ~magic~

3. What is your biggest RP pet peeve? 

Just people trying to control who I can and can't interact with. It REALLY bothers me. I had to deal with an ex room mate controlling me and who I can hang with. They refused me to invite my best friend over IN MY OWN HOUSE. And I just HATE when people are like 'oh don't interact with so and so they're bad.' When literally said person has never been mean or anything to me ONCE.

4. Are you drawn to specific types of muses? 

Villlains, psychos, murderers. :) I have a type...

5. Are there recurring themes in your writing that people might not notice? 

Uuuh, not really? Idk man, I can't think of one off the top of my head.

6. What are your favorite RP trends? 

I really enjoy dash com and stuff. I also like when muses are mentioned in other threads!

7. What is your process for starting a new story with someone?  

Idk man, I just throw a muse at someone and we just do fuck ever. I usually just wing things and we create a story that way. I'm only really comfortable with plotting with people I KNOW. Cuz I doubt my ideas a lot.. I think they're dumb...

8. How do you feel about duplicates? 

I USED to have issues with twins, cuz I was really worried I'd get replaced. OR they'd steal my stuff. But then I got better about it and now I love them-- PLEASE GIVE ME TWIN THREADS. LET OUR TWINS WRECK HAVOC. WILL THEY GET ALONG WITH EACH OTHER OR HATE EACH OTHER? IT'S SO MUCH FUN!

9. How long have you been involved in roleplaying? 

Omg... uuuuuuuuh, I started on Neopets back in like.. Fuck.. Uh.. 2005? Then I moved to Youtube.. These two I did NOT know what I was doing, I was just fucking around. Then when I moved to Facebook back in like, 2007, and I KNEW what I was doing. After Facebook I moved to Tumblr in.. 2013 I think? It as the day Mario and Luigi Dream Team came out in the US.

10. Is there a muse or verse you wish you could write in, but haven’t?

Uuuhm, I really wanna write Ranpo and or Dazai, but I"ve been really lazy. I also don't feel like getting Ranpo icons and I've been trying to get icons for Kitten of Dazai.

#dash games

[rhapsodyred-writes]

Can you write a thing where the S/o takes the two Horror Boys to a buffet for either a date or birthday thing?

If not, that's totally okay :D

This was fun to write! Thanks for the ask! (830 words)

It was Violet's birthday, and you had a great idea. For almost as long as you've known him, he's been talking about how badly he wanted to go to an all-you-can-eat buffet. And why shouldn't he? Now that monsters had made it to the surface, you firmly believed he and Poppy should have whatever they wanted.

Of course it had taken a while for either of them to open up about what had gone on underground, and you didn't blame them for what they'd had to do. But now there was no more need for them to worry about a lack of food, and a buffet sounded like a great time.

Even though it was Violet's birthday, you couldn't not bring Poppy too, but they seemed a little hesitant to be your tag-along. You and Violet both assured them it was fine, and that neither of you could truly enjoy it unless they were there too. And, well, how could they refuse after that?

So here you were, sitting in a buffet restaurant, at a table with two skeletons, one of whom barely fit at said table.

"Can I get you something to drink?" The server asked as you looked over the drink menu.

You were apparently the only one who needed to look over the drink menu - Violet ordered a coffee for himself, which Poppy immediately judged him for. Poppy, predictably, ordered a glass of milk. You found something on the menu you liked and ordered that.

The server nodded after writing this all down and smiled at the three of you. "Alright," He said. "You can go up whenever you're ready."

Violet chuckled as soon as the server was out of hearing range, and rubbed his hands together like he was plotting something.

"oh," He hummed, his grin stretching wide. "i'v-ve b-been ready f-f-for this-s my wh-whole life."

Poppy began to look a little concerned at this.

"Violet," They started in that specific tone of voice they used for trying to talk their brother out of something. "Please Don't Overdo It, Okay? I Would Really Like For This To Not Be A One-Time-Only Thing."

Violet's chuckles became something akin to diabolical sounding, and he didn't say another word as he stood up and went to get in line.

You couldn't blame Poppy for being worried. Violet had gone so long with so very little to eat that he now tended to overdo it...a lot. His self control was amazing in all matters except food. Then again, today was his birthday, so maybe it was okay? You weren't really about to tell him he couldn't eat as much as he wanted on his birthday, were you? Still...it was a flat price to pay for as much as you could eat, and you knew Violet was going to test that. He could never turn down a challenge.

So you weren't surprised when Violet went up for seconds. Whether or not you went up for seconds, both Violet and Poppy did. But only Violet went back up for thirds. And then fourths.

When he stood up to get his fifth plate, Poppy protested.

"Violet, Please. If You Keep This Up, Something Bad Might Happen." You could tell they were worrying at their hands under the table.

At this, Violet sat back down, looking at his sibling with concern. He reached a hand across the table and patted the table in front of Poppy gently.

"d-don't worry pop, i'll b-be ok. i know my limits."

"I'm Not Worried About You!"

You could hear Violet chuckling all the way down the buffet line.

After his seventh plate of buffet food, he was finally ready for dessert.

He tested the boundary with dessert too. While you and Poppy took what you both considered a reasonable amount, Violet grabbed at least one of everything, including cake and ice cream.

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him eat. He looked so happy that you couldn't find it in your heart to scold him for it. His cheekbones were tinted a deep blue and he was damn near purring.

"So how's the cake?" You asked, knowing full well how the cake was.

Violet shut his sockets and grinned so broadly you thought his face might split in two. The two thumbs up he gave you felt like very high praise, and you were beginning to wonder how much of a tip you'd need to leave for the restaurant owners to let you come back.

By the time you were all finished, Violet had caught the attention of more than just other patrons, and you ended up leaving a pretty sizeable tip, mostly out of guilt.

Because of that tip or sheer luck, Violet wasn't banned from returning, at least not on that day. All in all, in his books, it was a pretty good birthday. He got to go to a buffet-style restaurant with his two favourite people in the world. Nothing could beat that.

#shark friend #red answers #red writes #birthday #violet #horror!sans #poppy #horror!papyrus #undertale au #red's rent frees #rent free list #my writing #reader insert