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enbyobeyme · 1 year

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MC Becomes A Child But Angst

Prompt: Mc becomes a child again, but they did not have a good childhood to begin with...

AN: This is also an old work of mine that I'm reposting before I delete my old blog, may be a bit dated. I may rewrite this. Takes place in OG game

TWs: Mentions of Child Abuse, Scars, ect. GN per usual. Cringe writing

Vague Edgy Intro For Background.

You remember it since you were young. The live vivisections performed on you, the practice of fusing angels and demons to create your “God”. You were sadly the perfect catalyst for their experiments.

You have seen horrors beyond comprehension, atrocities that show the worst side of man, the lowest point that mortals could hit. Cults were draining. Worship after worship, recruitment after recruitment, experiment after experiment. You had demon and angel prisoners that you befriended in the cult before they were dragged away and eventually killed or turned into some beast...

You grew sick of it- that’s why you ran. How you managed to fight off or completely avoid the Silent Hill-esque monsters but... You did. From that day on you hid any marks, stitches, scars, or tattoos on your body were hidden. You did everything to hide your past, getting rid of any tracker on you, even trying to drain yourself of any demon or angel blood they injected you with.

You weren’t going to be turned into any ‘God” any time soon. To think, that poor angel Lilith had her grave robbed for the blood that now runs through your veins… Despicable.

I can’t imagine how your MC felt to have been summoned by demons? There was at least some level of fear or anxiety, no? Either way, let’s skip past that. You don’t know how, but some type of spell has been cast onto you, turning you into a kid. The same fragile kid from all those years ago. It wasn’t as happy as the brothers hoped for.

Lucifer

Your eyes were dull as you sat in the corner, you didn’t look at anything but the floor like you were waiting for instructions. Your body shivered and you looked so broken. “MC? Are you okay?” No response, not even a glance at him. It was unnerving, to say the least.

He was by your side in an instant once he heard the news. The way you backed away from him warily though didn’t throw him off, at first, he was a stranger to you after all. It wasn’t until he got back to his office to work while looking after you.

You seemed to have something in your hands that you hid even more as he approached. You looked over at him miserably and started to shake more. You never talked much about any parents or any childhood memories- you often skipped over conversions where Asmodeus badgered you for pictures of your young self. Is this why?

His heart hurts a bit as he puts the pieces together. He notices your grip on whatever is in your hands, loosening, he leans in trying to see what it is. Lucifer is taken aback when you hold out a small rusted knife towards him, it was blunt and old, and shaking in your grip.

“P-Please, get away from me, You’re going to hurt me too! They’re going to hurt you!” Lucifer kneeled down showing his hands to you before offering one to you. “I’m not going to hurt you, please come with me…” You shook, eventually putting the blade away. Lucifer reached out slowly to cup your cheek.

You were soon on his lap as he worked. He noticed that you looked over at the stack of papers, grabbing the sheet he was finished with you added it to the right pile. “How do you know to do paperwork?” “I had to earn food by helping out with chores.” He frowned at that.

”Your parents made you work?” “I don’t think I have parents. The leaders said they made me. It all clicked at that moment. “You were- you are in a cult?” You nodded, going back to organizing papers. It was silent for a moment. “You’re a nice demon. I hope they don’t hurt you too.” “Oh? What do you mean?” “A lot of demons or angels that get summoned get hurt. Sometimes, they’re dissected, and I have to help.” Lucifer couldn’t help but hold you a bit tighter. He felt awful for what you were implying.

He tried to ask you directly about the cult, but all he got were soft ‘sorry I can’t tell you that, I’ll get hurt’s’ in response. Dinner soon came, you refused to go out to the table without panicking, and trying to pull away from Lucifer if he tried to walk you there, so he brought food to you. Your eyes lit up as if you couldn’t believe that you were allowed food, you wolfed it down before anyone can take it from you. Afterward, he was able to walk you to your room to rest. “Wait, Mr. Lucifer, before you go” Lucifer looked back as your small child self waddles up to him to hug him. “Thank you, I don’t want you to leave me alone again.” He offered to sleep with you, you nodded profusely.

In the morning, you were grown again. Lucifer asked if you remembered anything from your kid self. You were silent before nodding. “Don’t mention any of it, to anyone. I’ve already dealt with and accepted it.” Lucifer nodded. This will be your little secret.

Mammon

When he heard Solomon shout in surprise during your magic practice, he knew something was up because that bitch never made noise. When he entered the room he saw a small child pointing a blade at the sorcerer. “Where’s MC?! Are they okay?!” “That IS MC. They messed up the spell and got turned into a kid”

You backed up, pointing the blade in front of you, “H-how do you know me.” It came out more like a statement than a question. You overheard the white-haired man, ‘Solomon’ Excuse himself along the lines of ‘Oops, I have to be somewhere’ for some reason this felt familiar. And that is how you got stuck with Mammon.

It took him a bit to convince you to put down the boxcutter, and you only did because you can sense the dumbassery off this guy and you could read him like a book, it would be able to tell when he would want to hurt you. You hid the boxcutter.

Mammon seemed to be on the phone with someone named ‘Lucifer’ you kept your distance. You heard all kinds of stories about the Seven Deadly. For someone in the cult to be named after them, or for a poor demon that was summoned and called by the sin they were strongly associated with was someone important. Important people tended to be the cruelest.

Mammon didn’t know what to do with a kid. Kids like the outdoors, right? Maybe he can get you some icecream? He noticed immediately that you dragged behind even as he offered you ice cream. You were a strange kid for sure.

At the ice cream store you just looked down. “Don’t you want anything?” you shook your head, it’s a trick, a trap, no one would be this kind to you. Mammon could tell something was up, you seemed so scared and hollow, just looking down at the ground. Mammon put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to shrink away. Sometimes he would’ve done the same when he knows he pissed off Lucifer. Were you okay?

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, “it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, come on, I got a coupon for a free ice cream anyway!” He didn’t but it might make you feel better. You felt like you had no choice, and zone out, when you zoned back in, there was an ice cream cone dripping onto your hand as you walked through the Devildom. A rare sweet treat that might be taken from you, you quickly lick it up, not knowing when an opportunity for food will present itself to you.

Mammon seemed nice, he talked to you and he even let you go up to an actual playground. You weren’t used to seeing a lot of kids together, especially so happy. It took a bit of Mammon coaxing you into trying to go down the slide. It was… fun. You asked Mammon to play with you.

After what seemed like an hour you both went home, for the first time in a while, you smiled. You were in Mammon’s room looking at all the shiny things in his room. “Thank you, Mammon,” you seemed to speak at a high level than other kids your age, Mammon noted, “I’m not really allowed to go outside.” Mammon frowned and asked, “Why not?” “The robed guys said people might see my marks and get me in trouble. And there was a big forest with all types of monsters.”

Robed guys, monsters? “Err, uhh. What kind of mark?” “Do you promise not to tell anyone?” “I promise.” You slowly pulled up a small part on the side of your shirt, exposing a long surgery scar going up your stomach, and a brand of sorts next to it. Mammon was taken aback. He pulled you close and examines you, on your chest were even more scars, some more brands it seemed like. You freaked out at him grabbing you and started kicking and crying. “Let me go! Let me go”

The box cutter from earlier came out of your pocket, into your hand, Mammon narrowly avoided it, catching your arm. “Woah woah woah! Chill, kid!” You dropped the box cutter and Mammon pulled you in for a hug. You were unfamiliar with it, but it felt nice.

You ended up falling asleep on Mammon. He wanted you to change back ASAP. There was a lot of things he wanted to ask you.

Leviathan

When you were transformed into a child, you just saw a white-haired man around a bunch of magic things and weird sigils. He looks like he was wearing a robe too, bad news. You looked around for something, anything that could help defend you, you usually always had a pocket knife on you and you felt in your pocket. Grabbing it, you knew it would a bad thing to fight, so you ran.

This house was big and had a lot of hiding spots, you ran up the stairs, knife in hand, sneaking around. Where was there to hide, you heard music from one place, chatting from the next, you saw an open door, peeking in, there appeared to be no one, it was definitely someone’s room though. Covered in strange aquariums and many odd… mini statues everywhere.

It was at least something to work with though, lots of things were in here. You closed and locked the door, barricading it with everything you could. There had to be something in here that’s useful, a key, a weapon, even some vents that may lead outside. Maybe the aquarium leads somewhere you can swim to. You began your search.

You opened every possible thing you can open, there had to be something, anything to help you, knocking over statue after statue, book after book. All you found were sewing needles and thread. You pocketed them, good for stitches. Soon you heard knocking at the door and some ramming into it. “What the hell?! Who locked my door. MAMMON YOU BETTER NOT BE IN THERE I’LL KILL YOU!”

Oh no. Oh no. No, nononono. You had a small pocket knife and NEEDLES. That wouldn’t be enough for a fight. Maybe you can hide in the pile of soft human-shaped pillows and sneak attack him? There was nowhere else to hide, you dived in. The door broke open, you held your breath and gazed at the intruder through the plushes. A demon. You know a demon when you see one. You hope he doesn’t recognize your smell. “Mammon! Where are you?! Ugh, you trashed my room! I KNOW you’re in here!”

You started to run out of breath, and let out the smallest exhale. A normal human could not have heard, but a demon could. “Found you.” Levi started to sift through the plushies. Now or never, the door was still open. You leaped out trying to make it towards the door. You were too slow, Levi leaped forward, shutting the door. You kicked at his ankle pointing your knife to him. “Leave me alone! Get away, demon! I’ll hurt you!” Your voice was raspy and you started to sob, swinging at Levi.

The commotion was heard by the other brothers, already informed about what happened by Solomon, the door opened, which squished you between the wall. Levi picked you up like an aggressive cat as you continued to kick and scream. “I-if you hurt me, the cult would never forgive you! They’ll hurt you too! Just put me down and I’ll leave you alone. Please!!!” You were handed to Satan, who actually understood how to console a child from his reading habits.

They were discussing something, you didn’t care. They were all outside Levi’s room. You couldn’t run anywhere but there. You bit Satan’s hand, making him drop you, as you book it back into the pile of plushies. Hidden once more, you can only hope they would leave alone. They did, kind of. Maybe they were waiting for you to come back out? It was hard to tell. You were hungry. Maybe there were some crunchy bugs in here- or maybe that tank had something in it. A goldfish. It was something.

Right as you came out of the plushie pile, Levi came back in. You ran back in and shook. “I don’t taste good! Leave me alone!!” Levi would have laughed if you didn’t sound so terrified and he couldn’t hear your stomach rumble. Levi crept in. This was his room after all. He searched around his shelves for something. “Hey, are you hungry, I have some Ruri-Chan crackers. Come on out.”

Nothing. They were sealed, sealed food was usually safe, you stuck out your hand, expecting him to toss it. You let out a noise of displeasure as he approached. He froze. Levi isn’t good with kids. He placed the pack down near the pile. He was too tired for this, he just wanted to play his Waifu games…

You grabbed the crackers pulling them into the pile and started to feast as Levi gamed. Levi hated the silence with you eating. Usually, you both would talk as you game, this felt wrong that he was ignoring you. Occasionally, as he played, he would talk to you. “This character kinda sucks, their DPS output is trash but they look so cute.”

After a while, you snuck out of the pile, slowly approaching him, and sitting next to him to watch the pretty colors on screen. Levi noticed and handed over a controller. “Want to play?” You hesitantly took it, as he told you what to do. You spent most night playing games until you passed out. In the morning, you didn’t mention anything from the day before. Shushing the demon if he mentioned anything.

Satan

He felt a spell fail. He knows that was never a good thing. He should check on you, you are always dragged into these things. He wasn’t expecting to see a mini-you having a standoff, boxcutter in hand with Solomon who’s clothing seemed to be ripped up from where you tried to protect yourself. You looked so serious.

“What the fuck is going on?” Solomon explained. Great, a de-aging spell. He would have to figure this out. Satan sighed and told Solomon to leave. You never talked about being a kid, sometimes excusing it when anything about it was brought up. As you saw the sorcerer leave and the demon try and calm you down, you pieced it together that he won’t hurt you. For now.

That’s how you ended up in his room surrounded by books. You backed up in the corner keeping your eyes on Satan as he tore up his bookshelves looking for something to reverse this. You watched from afar.

You decided to look around his stuff yourself. Lots of weird demon shit to start with. Most you recognized. You picked up an old tome with a seal that you’ve seen a million times, instinctually, you broke the seal and opened it. Usually, these tomes have something of importance in it. “Don’t touch that!” You dropped it immediately and cowered, expecting to be hit.

Satan froze seeing you cover your head, guilt rising. He noticed that the tome no longer had that damned seal he couldn’t break. How did you…? Satan rested a hand on your shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, MC, I was scared.” You didn’t seem convinced and just looked away.

Satan decided to change the subject. “How did you break the seal on this, hmm?” “I… I know that book.” “You know the book?” “Yeah, the leaders always put those seals on their tomes to protect what’s inside. Only other cultists can open it…” Satan took a glance inside, it mainly detailed a lot of illustrations and descriptions of demons, angels, captives… surgeries… ungodly experiments…

So you grew up in a cult? It must have been awful. Satan tries to change the subject for your sake, you must not want to talk about it. He lit a small, harmless flame in the shape of a small kitty and watched your eyes lit up. “Hey, want to help me out with some magic?” You nodded, shyly.

You were now in his lap, both drawing kittens and look at small photobooks of cats while he also read book after book, looking for some type of spell to reverse it. He glanced over to your drawings as they started to lean into darker territory. Drawings of cats turned into sacrifices of animals. The number 777 was drawn everywhere.

t was the same number as the mark on the back of your neck-wait. Mark on the back of your neck… He glanced at your neck, gently brushing your hair back to show the mark. 777. Huh… He looked back at the spellbook. Finally, a spell to reverse this shit.

A few minutes later, you were back. You and Satan stared at each other, no words were spoken as you went to go grab that damned book from the shelf. You sat next to Satan and skimmed through it, photo after photo, article after article. You see a good chunk of the book titled “The Experiment of Subject 777”

You tore out that chunk, ripping it up and throwing it in the fireplace, handing the rest of the book back to Satan. ”Burn it. Read it. I don’t care…”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus was thrown aback when Solomon called him, telling him what just happened. He zoned out at “Mc is now a baby!” and he was excited to see how cute you looked. He heard something along the lines of you’ll change back in a few hours.

Asmo didn’t care, he snagged you, cradled you, and carried you off into his room. He didn’t even realize the state you were in, afraid and once again covered in the old scars on your body from your childhood returned. He went off to his room putting you down and immediately going to the closet all while saying how much fun the two of you would have.

The smile dropped when he turned around and saw a poor broken child covered in scars of all kinds, surgery scars across the chest, what seemed like self-harm ones on your legs, and that doesn’t even mention the bruises. He remembered asking if you had any pictures from when you were a kid and how uncomfortable you seemed. He can recognize abuse easily.

“Oh, sweetie…” The demon invited you into his arms hugging you and rubbing your back. For some reason the kindness in his voice made you cry. You held onto him as he pats you back. “Come on sweetie, let it all out…”

After what seemed like forever, you had no more tears to cry. Asmodeus knew what could make you feel better. He started to get out some self-care stuff. Showed you facemasks, lip masks, lotions, creams.

He even got out some cucumbers to put over your eyes. You were completely spoiled. It was nice to actually be cared about. After a bit of coaxing, Asmodeus asked to see some of the scars on your body, there is a possibility that you could be injured.

Asmo felt sick. Surgery scars across your chest and stomach, brands across your back and collarbones. It was sickening how someone could do this to a child. Asmo has connections. He recognized the brands all across your body from the cult you were in.

He has seen their members raid the parties he was in, how they walked off with a bunch of intoxicated demons, or snag them using hooks into their wings and forcing them away. He’s heard of the torture demons had endured. Blood experiments. Fusion. The creation of a ‘god’. You were forced to be in there huh?

Asmodeus know that it is not a topic you would want to talk about. He decided that instead, you both should keep your mind off of it. Maybe a few hours of body-positive selfies and watching drama shows and doing makeup will keep your mind off of it.

Beelzebub + Belphegor

Belphegor was asleep as you and Solomon performed spells. He was woken up by a scream followed by crying. Anyway long story short, he ended telling Solomon to fuck off while pulling you away from him. He was too tired to try and ask how to undo the speel so he just went over to his twin’s shared room.

Beel saw a tiny child you and his eyes lit up at the sight of a child. It disappeared quickly when you fucking sucker-punched Belphie and gave him a swift kick into his gut. “Damn demon, get away from me. What are you doing?! Are you trying to die?!”

Belphie dropped you and you already prepared to fight, your body was telling you to scream- run away, get out. You stood your ground. You glared at them. The demons were both shocked. Beel approached you, grabbing you in one swift motion. You squirmed and thrashed. Nothing.

Beel saw the hatred in your eyes along with the hurt. Beel also noticed the brands across your body, he dropped you out of shock, before he caught you again. “Belphegor… Look” Belphegor had never seen his twin look so sad. He went over and looked at what Beelzebub was pointing at. A large cult brand covered your body.

That cult was linked to various disappearances around the Devildom. It has been around for ages as well. He had seen firsthand what they could do- hell Belphegor remembers how they tried to kidnap him when he was an angel. An angel.

Beel remembered the meeting with Diavolo discussing the disappearances and even massacres of their fellow demons. Seeing how they branded a child at such a young age. His stomach churned at the idea of your childhood.

They were snapped out of their thoughts when you smacked your head back into Beels, making him drop you on the floor. You pushed yourself under one of the beds, away from the twins. They couldn’t squeeze their whole body under here and their arms would never reach.

Belphegor lied down and kept trying to reach for you with an ‘ugh, come here brat’. You kept away. At some point, you fell asleep from all the adrenaline leaving your body. You woke up a bit later in someone’s arms. You overhead a conversation with another person.

“This spell should wear off soon, I’ll watch over-” “No, I got them.” Your eyes fluttered open and were met with the below view of Beel’s chin. He held you protectively and walked back to his room alongside Belphegor. Belphegor made eye contact with you.

“Hi…” “...Hey. Gonna kick me again, little-” “Belphie. Leave them alone.” Belphie scowled as Beel set you down on his twin’s bed. You sat up and shyed away. “...Thank you… for not hurting me.” Beel frowned and the overwhelming urge to crush you in a hug overwhelmed him, but he knew it would scare you.

Beel sat beside you, offering a snack, on your other side, Belphegor lied down and turned on the TV. You got to watch some DemonTV. As time went off your belly was full and Belphegor was a comfortable pillow for you. You all fell asleep in a sandwich.

When you woke up, you were back to normal, no more brands, no more scars. The twins looked over at you, you can tell that they pitied you to an extent. You know that they’re worried about you too. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

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blackkatmagic · 10 months

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Xanatos/Cody - Love at 1st Snark

“Oh, stars and stupid little birds,” Obi-Wan says, entirely exasperated. “Why did it have to be you?”

Cody raises his head from where he’s been trying to chew through the gag. Anything that can get his general sounding like that promises to be entertaining, to say the least.

“It’s pronounced thank you, little brother,” a posh-sounding voice—no Coruscanti accent, but something more liquid, a lot less Core, which is interesting—says, precisely aimed to cause maximum irritation. “And I take payment in credits or peggats, whichever you have on you at the moment.”

“I'm naked,” Obi-Wan says, offended. “Clearly I don’t have any credits, Xanatos—”

“A shame. I suppose I’ll have to leave you to Hondo, then.” Steps sail past Obi-Wan’s cell, and there's a curse, the sound of struggling, but they don’t turn back. Cody raises a brow, and a moment later the fancy bastard who matches the voice sweeps around to the door of his cell, raises a lightsaber with a gleaming white blade, and brings it down sharply. The door thumps down flat, and Xanatos steps over it, then sweeps a look over Cody, brows rising.

“Well hello,” he says. He purrs, and Cody levels a brow right back. It makes Xanatos grin, sauntering into the cell.

“He doesn’t have any credits either, Xanatos!” Obi-Wan calls from the other cell, annoyed.

“For him I’ll make an exception, and rescue him out of the goodness of my heart,” Xanatos calls back, smirking at the sound of offense it gets him. Sinking down to one knee, he pulls a very nice knife from his sleeve, then leans in to cut through Cody's gag, and then says, “You will be repaying my altruism, I presume. You don’t seem as rude as Obi-Wan.”

Cody doesn’t laugh, just leans to the side so he can spit the gag out, then says, “Of course. Wouldn’t want anyone’s altruism to be without some kind of benefit, right?”

“Obi-Wan!” Hondo says, loudly and delightedly, from the next cell. “My friend, you seem to be in a bind! Perhaps this old pirate can help you out?”

“If my choices are you or him, you’d be my first choice every time, Captain,” Obi-Wan says sincerely.

Xanatos rolls his eyes, moving to deactivate Cody's binders. “I don’t know why I bother,” he says. “This whole family is a nightmare. I should have run away when I was fifteen and joined a circus.”

“You’d make a beautiful clown,” Cody tells him gravely, and surprise washes over his face for an instant before he laughs.

“Thank you, I like to think so too.” Getting a hand under Cody's arm, he tugs him to his feet, then asks, “Every limb still attached?”

“All the important ones,” Cody says mildly. “Commander Cody, thanks for the save.”

It gets him a lazy smile, full of intent. “Xanatos, with the 501st, but I think you can call me whatever you like.”

If this is the Jedi Rex has been refusing to introduce Cody to, Cody's going to have to turn Rex upside down and dunk his head in dye or something. “Yeah? That include—?”

“Cody. You don’t even know where he’s been.”

“Sorry, General,” Cody says, not sorry at all. When Xanatos sweeps his fur-trimmed cloak off and offers it, he takes it with dignity, slinging it around his shoulders.

“Well now,” Xanatos says, and that smirk is an invitation. “That’s quite the look, Commander. Makes me want to lay you down in front of a roaring fireplace—”

“Xanatos.”

“I think if we keep scandalizing the general, he might have a coronary,” Cody says gravely. “Be a shame to rob Hondo of his company.”

“You’re right, of course.” Xanatos offers Cody his arm, and, wholly amused, Cody takes it like he’s a senator at a fancy gala. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I'm going to toss you out an airlock,” Obi-Wan says crossly, limping down the corridor to join them. Hondo has one of Obi-Wan’s arms pulled over his shoulder, and his hat is askew. “You’d better not have dragged Feemor along—”

“Oh no, my dear padawan brother,” Xanatos says airily. “I brought Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan blanches, at in the same moment, something distant explodes, shaking the whole base.

“Time to run,” Xanatos advises Cody, and takes off, hauling Cody right along with him.

#my writing #kat drabbles #codyxan #commander cody #xanatos #obihondo #obi wan kenobi #hondo ohnaka #star wars

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inkedmyths · 1 year

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S1: E19 "Provenance"

Brought to you by Splatoon, and also I have school again so I forgot to post this last night

This ep featuring: Rich people, art history, dolls are creepy, and Sam lacking any kind of smoothness

Is the painting haunted

Yep called it

Uh oh lady is going to die

SQUISH

OOH they dead

Dean No

"I can get my own dates"

"You can but you don't"

DEAN. PRODUCER? DUMBASS

Whsgsgsgsgs honk honk wakey wakey

Yeah its the stuff

Is. Is it being auctioned

Dean. You're an idiot

Sam you're also an idiot

HAUNTED PAINTINGGG

DHSHS DEAN LOOKS SO OFFENDED THAT SHES MORE INTO SAM THEN HIM

Lmao they aren't on the guest liiist

Wh. What the fuck is this room. What is this music

Unison "Huh"

Oh thats what a provenance is huh

Sam sounding offended at using a "pickup" for info and Dean's just like yeaaaa all in a day's work now go get flirty

Ah yes dead mom. Classic

Climbing the gate we go! Going to try and steal and burn a painting! We're not even halfway done, are they going to get arrested or something before they get it

Or is it going to jump to a new host painting or something

Breaking and entering!

Im so nervous. Half expecting the police to jump in at any moment

Oh? oh OH IT JUST REFORMED

DEAN YOU IDIOT YOU DROPPED YOUR WALLET? HOW

Sam you are so bad at this. Sam. Sam no

Ooh ok so this Isiah? Isaiah? Killed his family. Ok

Uh Oh Someone Is Buying It

Dean REALLY does just think Sam needs to get laid to cool off

[ Melon says knowing Dean, it might be based on personal experience. ]

Sam having sad about his fridged girlfriend moments

Love the 2005 phones

GOD. SAM HES SOOO NOT SMOOTH

Oh no this poor old lady

HES MOVING

Uh oh Sarah followed theeeem

Jesus Christ

Yeah here's the part where they sound crazy

IM SORRY HELP IM GOING TO LOSE IT

THE WAY THAT HE SAYS "We think that painting is haunted". Like the way a parent tells their kid we think Sadie ran away because someone left the door unlocked. Like the "I'm so sorry sweetheart, do you nedd a hug" voice.

"Sam. Marry that girl" SCREAMING

Crypt? Mausoleum? Is this where the family's remains are?

Go go gadget bolt cutters!

Oh yeah the toys are creepy

Urns!

Ohhh he wasn't cremated

Sam pulling the "People I care about get hurt around me" card

"That's very sweet... and very archaic." Oh I like her shes got spice

I love how shes holding the light while they go grave robbing

SAM IS TRYING TO SCARE HER OFF BY BEING CHEERFULLY CHILL WITH THIS. thats so funny

HOWLING. DEAN. Dean you're so so terrible

HUH?

WAIT? WHY THE CHILD?

IM SO CONFUSED

Wait. Wait wait WAS IT A MURDEROUS CHILD ALL ALONG

Hello evil baby

Hhhrrr that feels too easy still

Aha!! The doll!!!

LMAO DEAN. DRIVES RIGHT THROUGH THE GATE

Shoot the glass shoot the doll

Whats up with the kid like what was the story there

Were both father and child trapped in the painting. Did she kill everyone and he killed her and then himself or something

SCREAMS Dean is sooo salty she doesn't even give him a second glance

Girl I know but you gotta find someone not getting hunted all the time

Dean let your brother do his thing in PEACE

Sam gets a girl, Dean's not as great a wingman as he thinks he is. Altogether a trainwreck, but a funny one, even if it did subject me to a PAINFUL amount of secondhand embarassment.

#on the highway to superhell #their dynamic is rlly funny tbh #dean 'i'll hold all my feelings right here and one day i'll die' winchester #sam 'i am so sad all the time' winchester #and together. they are assholes with a singular braincell

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sorry-apsalar · 2 years

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Frender Drabbles : Better

anything hurt/comfort or sickfics.

Since waking from cryo-sleep Fry had given little thought to his former life. There had been too much happening and a lot of it had been exciting and fun. The few times he had thought about it he’d assumed no one had missed him much and if anything had been relieved not to have to deal with him being around anymore. Turns out he’d been wrong.

In hindsight, the whole Yancy trying to steal his name thing was ridiculous. Yancy had always been better than him at everything so why would he want to steal Fry’s name so bad he did so as soon as Fry went missing? It just didn’t make sense and yet it had seemed more plausible than the truth. Apparently he’d missed Fry so much he’d named his son after him, how wild was that? And that son had gone on to become a…

The couch dipped as Bender sat down next to him. “You’ve been quiet since we got back home. It’s starting to annoy me.” Maybe his annoyance was rooted in Fry not paying attention to him but regardless he cared enough to notice and bring it up. Something that many of Fry’s former friends had never done much of.

“I’m just thinking.”

“Then stop thinking so much. Thinking too much has never done anything good for anyone as far as I know.”

Fry couldn’t argue with that but still since they were already talking about it… “I never got to meet my nephew. Didn’t even know I was going to have a nephew, let alone one named after me.”

“Oh, you’re still upset about that, huh? You got to see his skeleton though, that’s basically the same as meeting him, right?”

Fry shrugged. “I guess it’s better than nothing.” Even if it probably would’ve been better if they hadn’t robbed his grave and had just gone to visit it like normal people instead. “I did meet my sister-in-law though, I think. Now that I think about it, they might’ve broke up after I went into cryo-sleep and he might’ve married someone else. But even if the one I met was her… I don’t remember her name or even really what she looked like. And it doesn’t even matter she’s dead and so is everyone I ever knew or met or even just saw walking around back then.”

“You only just now figured that out?”

“No. It just now sunk in is all. It’s uh, kind of a lot to realize. And like, my brother named his son after me. He probably wouldn’t have if I’d still been around at the time but… that’s still a lot too.”

“I swear, you meatbags are too emotional for your own good. Look at the bright side though even if you just found out your brother missed you enough to name his spawn after you, you’re still happier here, right? I’m sure he and whoever else cared about you would’ve wanted that for you or whatever, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so, maybe.”

“Good because things are better this way and you can’t change it anyway.”

‘Better’ was probably a relative term but Fry was certainly happier. And well… even if he could change it, he didn’t feel like he would want to. Perhaps he’d leave a note explaining the situation so no one would worry or think something bad had happened to him but other than that how cool the future was and how awesome all his new friends were outweighed his regrets. So, for him, this was better.

Which didn’t mean he couldn’t or shouldn’t mourn his past loved ones but dwelling on his regrets kind of sucked and accomplished nothing. So instead… “You want to play some video games for a bit before the new episode of All My Circuits comes on tonight?”

“Finally you’re over it. But yeah, let’s do it. I got nothing better to do.”

#my writing #futurama #frender #philip j. fry #bender bending rodriguez #frender drabbles

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devildomwriter · 2 years

Text

Obey Me As Tumblr #4

Satan: So I MEANT to say “oh crap, I left my phone in my car” but what I ALMOST said was “oh no, I left my cone in my phar,” and damn wouldn’t that have been embarrassing, but I caught myself, and what I ACTUALLY said was

“Ah, my fart cone.”

So anyway

•

Simeon: Today these two boys in my math class were hitting each other with pencils and my teacher said “could you try to be a little more mature?”

One of them screamed “TAXES” and punched the other kid in the face

•

Leviathan: Sex is so weird it’s literally just putting your penis inside someone else’s penis. Like what the fuck

Asmodeus: I don’t think that’s how it works

Leviathan: Yes it is. I’ve had so much sex. A lot. Like 100 sex.

•

Mammon: What did one cell say to his sister cell that stepped on his toe

Mammon: Mitosis

Leviathan: I want to die

•

Mammon: How long does someone have to be dead before it’s considered archeology instead of grave robbing

Solomon: An an archeologist I find this a veRY AWKWARD QUESTION

Mammon: Answer the question grave robber

•

Satan: Ah yes, the Trojan horse. Or as I like to call it murderous piñata

•

Asmodeus: Years ago I watched this porn and the girl was screaming ‘oh god, oh god!!!’ And this dude was like ‘there are no gods here’ and to this day it haunts me wtf was he talking about

•

Mammon: At my funeral there is going to be a closed casket and then it will be opened to reveal I am not inside. Instead they will turn on the ceiling fan and my lifeless body will swing around the room while the space jam theme song is playing in the back ground

Mammon: Never mind my brother says I can’t do that

•

MC: I just had the best encounter with a child at Kmart. I was in the aisle shopping and this boy and his dad come around the corner. The little blonde boy sees me and excitedly exclaims “there’s a human here!!” To which his father replied, “Yes, there’s humans everywhere.”

Mammon: Bro you do realize you just met aliens

Solomon: Not unusual for Kmart

•

Mammon: I was looking at grapes in the store and this old lady comes up to me and goes “you’re not stealing those are you?” So I’m like no lol? and she goes “oh, well I am.” And grabbed a handful of grapes and left

Leviathan: GKSKVKSM

•

Diavolo: “What time is it?” You ask, I pull out my 2.7 metric ton granite sundial and immediately crush both of your feet, I loudly announce “it is cloudy.”

•

Solomon: This is the dumbest thing to nitpick, but the phrase “real UFO” bothers me any UFO is a real UFO as long as it’s unidentified and flying because that’s what those words mean whether or not it’s an alien is a different matter. It could be a pancake someone threw real hard as long as you don’t know that’s what it is it’s a UFO

Satan: I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Anything is a UFO if you’re bad enough at identified stuff

•

MC: People with uteri are never gonna have a perfectly flat stomach. They’re always gonna have a little pouch, because that’s where we keep our bees.

Thirteen: Once a month the moon angers the bees.

•

Lucifer: Gave my students a pop quiz today and learned something new: if you make all the answers C, you will see 35 of the most hilariously panicked and confused faces in the world.

Raphael: Are you Satan?

•

Leviathan: Was it really necessary for me to be born?

Simeon: Possibly not, but double chocolate chip cookies aren’t necessarily either but I wouldn’t want to live in a world without them

Leviathan: That is the most uplifting thing I’ve read all day

•

Belphegor: What if your phobias are based off how you died in a past life

Mammon: Why is this not getting around faster

Beelzebub: DUDE

•

Leviathan: It’s 2021 why can’t I delete friends in real life?

Leviathan: Ok so it turns out what I was thinking of it called murder

•

Satan: Next time a conspiracy theorist tries to tell you ‘what really happened’, present a more outlandish theory and accuse them of covering up the truth

Conspiracy theorist: “The moon landing was faked!”

Me: “Pfft, you believe in the moon?”

•

MC: Boys are so lucky they get boners to tell them that they’re horny because girls are just like am I horny or am I hungry or am I bored I don’t know I don’t have a dick

Mammon: That’s definitely an interesting take. But sometimes we get boners for no reason and it’s something like “What is it boy? Did you see something?”

•

Solomon: I just attended the best Passion of the Christ play. As they were “nailing” Jesus to the cross the entire thing broke. No one knew what to do and it got quiet. Finally one of the guards on stage said “you get out of it this time Jesus”

Mammon: Omfg

Leviathan: I CAN’T STOP FUCKING LAUGHING NOBODY LOOK AT ME

Satan: #IT’S BACK

#obey me shall we date #funny obey me #obey me as tumblr #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me simeon #obey me leviathan #obey me solomon #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me raphael #obey me thirteen

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

What if nmy, jgy and lxc can hear each other thought after they became brother?

ao3

Lan Xichen was dreaming.

He dreamt that he was walking along a road, dust on his feet, a small pack on his back, and bruises on his face from where he’d fallen; it felt as if everyone was looking at him, gawking at him, every one of them acting as though they knew everything about him just by looking at him and he hated them –

Do not succumb to rage, Lan Xichen thought, the familiar rule popping into his mind at once.

Rage isn’t the problem, some part of his mind thought back at him. The problem is – why do you care what they think? They’re always going to think something.

They were judging him. How dare they judge him? He’d made something of himself, made himself smart and tricky and capable, but no one cared about that, they judged him, they sneered at him –

Sneering for no reason is prohibited.

Oh for – he just said that they were sneering for a reason.

He did not! The whole point of what he said was that they were sneering because they were unfairly judging him, Lan Xichen argued, and was momentarily amused at himself for arguing with himself in a dream. He would have to write down this dream in the morning and see if he could explore whatever internal strife within him was the cause. And that they weren’t worthy of judging him.

I thought ‘Arrogance is forbidden’?

Are you quoting Lan sect rules at me?

Excuse you both, he was trying to think here!

I’d say brooding rather than thinking.

Lan Xichen agreed with that. It really was mostly brooding, brooding on all the wrongs that had been done to him and paranoia against the whole world. Brooding and walking, walking and brooding –

Like a chicken.

He was not like a chicken. What the fuck. Who the fuck compared lusting for revenge to chickens?

I’m just saying, if you’re going to be brooding, you may as well have some eggs –

Lan Xichen woke up laughing. He still wasn’t sure what the meaning of the dream was, but he did meander down to Caiyi town in order to have some eggs.

He passed it off as a craving.

Lan Xichen knew from the first sight of the jingshi how this dream would go.

He would be walking, slowly and gravely, knowing already what he would find: the sight of Wangji kneeling in front of his mother’s house. Only six years old, too young to understand, and yet faced with such terrible loss.

He would go up to him and take him by the shoulder, seeking to comfort him, and he would turn and that would be when Lan Xichen would see his face – dead eyes vacant, blood spilling from his mouth, thirty-three whip marks tearing his back apart and yet that did not seem to be the greatest blow…

The dream never changed.

And so Lan Xichen walked.

He walked, slowly and gravely, and he saw little Wangji, and he –

He’s like a little figurine!

Lan Xichen paused. It was true, of course; he’d had that thought a dozen times before when thinking of his younger brother in his youth. Just not usually in this dream.

One of the expensive ones, his bizarre train of thought continued, utterly nonsensical. The ones you can only get in the shops in the city, all pudgy-faced and red-cheeked with eyes half the size of their face. I always thought those were dreadfully unrealistic.

Perhaps a little.

They’re scary is what they are, another part of his brain thought. Can we get to the part of the dream with all the blood instead?

Seriously?

At least he’s an adult when that happens.

Fair enough.

Wait, hold up, go back, since when am I scared of dolls? I’m not scared of dolls.

Neither was Lan Xichen.

Not dolls. Creepy unliving mannikins in the shape of dolls that are almost but not quite human, that move in stuttering motion that is almost but not quite right, that smile and look at you when they shouldn’t be able to move...

Huh. Apparently I am scared of dolls, the first part of his mind thought, bemused, and Lan Xichen agreed. He’d never known about that particular phobia of his before before, but now that he thought about it, it sounded pretty awful.

He really hoped such dolls wasn’t going to be making in appearance in this dream. It was bad enough as it was.

He sighed, and lifted his foot to continue walking.

Couldn’t you just not go up to him?

What?

That’s a good point. If you already know you’re dreaming, there’s no point in just walking through it.

But…Lan Xichen always went. It’s his brother!

Maybe it’s a creepy doll. Can you really tell the difference?

Wangji was not a creepy doll. How did they get on the subject of creepy dolls, anyway?

No idea. But it’s definitely about as stupid as chickens when it comes to stupid dream thoughts.

Great. Now Lan Wangji – sitting there in all his Lan white – has transmogrified into a chicken, plump with white feathers.

Lan Xichen hoped his subconscious was happy now.

No, this is great actually. No killing livestock within the Cloud Recesses, right?

What?

If he’s a chicken, he’s immune from –

Lan Xichen woke up out of sheer frustration.

(Still better than the usual dream, he supposed.)

He was walking through a forest, big loping steps that ate up the ground almost like a run. There were so many things to do, and never enough time to do it in – everything was always a rush, and only the dead had time to sleep.

He was walking through a forest, and the moon was big and bright above his head, shining a dull red in the night sky, a killing moon that boded ill. He could feel the pressure of it on his shoulders like a weight, like an extra presence that never left him; it was both friend and foe, loved and hated, for it would show him the way and rob him of it at the same time.

He was walking through a forest, and he wondered to himself why his dreams recently always featured so much fucking walking.

Oh, no, now you’ve ruined the mood, some part of Lan Xichen’s brain complained, and it might actually be him, come to think of it. I was enjoying that. We were going so fast, it was almost like running.

It wasn’t anything like running.

How did you manage to stop the dream, anyway? Some other part of him thought, sounding almost wistful. You barely got five steps into it before you were making unwarranted comments.

Lucid dreaming.

Was it the moon that gave it away? I’ve never seen it hang so low or so threatening.

It’s not a moon, it’s a metaphor.

All dreams are metaphors, really, Lan Xichen protested, but he was snickering. But also, hold up, look up a second – is it just me, or doesn’t it feel like the moon looking at us?

The moon doesn’t have eyes, the smart voice said immediately. It doesn’t have eyes, so it can’t be – okay, never mind, the moon is definitely looking at us. Also, it’s angry about it.

That was because it wasn’t a moon. He really wasn’t sure what was so hard to grasp about this.

The moon is growling at us! That’s pretty hard to grasp!

If this dream is lucid, can it be changed? Lan Xichen asked, trying to force his dream self to move or dodge or something without success. The moon was getting larger in a threatening sort of way that suggested that it was coming closer. Rapidly. A change would be good right now, really –

I don’t want to be eaten by a moon! I don’t want to be eaten by a fucking moon!

Stop saying it’s a fucking moon already! It’s not a moon! It’s just Baxia!

Lan Xichen opened his eyes and sat ramrod-straight up in bed in a single movement.

“Oh, no,” he said.

They met in Qinghe, which had the virtue of being Nie Mingjue’s sole domain in a way Gusu wasn’t yet, for Lan Xichen, and which Lanling was likely never to be for Jin Guangyao.

“All right,” Jin Guangyao declared, stalking in through the doors looking more upset than Lan Xichen had ever seen him. “Which one of you was responsible for the chicken comment?!”

Nie Mingjue coughed.

“I knew it!”

“I wasted a great deal of time on dream analysis after that,” Lan Xichen said, because apparently they were going to be discussing this rather serious issue affecting both himself and his two sworn brothers in the stupidest way possible and he was oddly all right with that. “I even consulted Uncle.”

Nie Mingjue coughed again, except this time it sounded less embarrassed and more like he was (badly) trying to hide laughter.

Even Jin Guangyao stopped scowling and started having to fight a smile. “Really?” he asked. “You told – about the chickens?”

“He thought it suggested a desire to settle down,” Lan Xichen confessed.

“The man wants grand-nephews,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “You could dream of anything and he’d interpret it as wanting to settle down. Speaking of settling down, would you both like to do so? There’s calming tea.”

Qinghe had a very specific brand of tea they meant when they referred to ‘calming tea’, imported from the west and south for its reputed use in subduing even the most vicious temper, and it was most definitely not made of flowers. However, as mild intoxicants went, it didn’t have quite the same crippling effect on Lan Xichen as liquor, and he was happy to accept a cup.

“So,” Lan Xichen said after a while. “We’ve been sharing dreams.”

“It certainly appears that way,” Nie Mingjue agreed.

“How do we make it stop?” Jin Guangyao wanted to know.

“I don’t know how it started,” Lan Xichen said. “Much less how to make it stop. Unless this is familiar to either of you…?”

They both shook their heads.

“Could it have had something to do with the sworn brother ceremony?” Jin Guangyao suggested.

“Improbable,” Nie Mingjue said.

“There have been plenty of sworn brotherhoods throughout history,” Lan Xichen agreed. “Someone would have mentioned dream-sharing if it were a side effect, if only because it would be so useful.”

“Dream-sharing?” Nie Mingjue said, frowning. “That’s your problem?”

“It’s useful, but intrusive,” Jin Guangyao said. He was frowning, which he rarely did in public – or even in front of Nie Mingjue these days. The revelation had clearly shaken him deeply. “Dreams can’t be controlled. What if one of us started dreaming about, I don’t know, killing each other?”

“We would agree in advance not to take offense,” Lan Xichen assured him. “As you say, dreams cannot be controlled –”

“I don’t mind the dreams,” Nie Mingjue put in. “It’s hearing your thoughts that’s getting to me.”

They both turn to look at him.

“What?” he asked. “Oh, that hasn’t started for you two yet? Something to look forward to, because it’s a pain.”

They ultimately concluded that it was a curse.

A curse gone wrong, of course, but it had the markings of one, and after some research they were even able to narrow down to which one it must have been at the start.

“Why did it go so wrong?” Lan Xichen wondered, looking at the historical records they’d dug up in Qinghe’s library. “Whoever it was surely wasn’t planning on us having this sort of connection.”

“Baxia deflected it, I think,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen shared unnerved looks.

It was one thing to know that your sworn brother had a spiritual weapon to which his soul was tied and which he sometimes spoke of as if it were a person; it was yet another to feel that bond, the foreign energy that seeped into his skull at all times, to know that his lucid dreams were due to his persistent awareness of that extra being, to be able to sense the personality that was Baxia lingering on him like a ghost. Or a guai, more accurately.

“It must have happened during or very soon after we swore our oath,” Nie Mingjue continued, oblivious as always to their disquiet. “Our qi was in parallel at that time, binding us together, and she would have been able to spread the attack between us all.”

“The ultimate goal of something like this is to drive someone mad – specifically you, da-ge, since it seems to be hitting you first and hardest." Lan Xichen said, grimacing. And given the Nie sect’s infamous tendency towards qi deviations, they might have thought they could get away with it without anyone finding out…how utterly vile. “Whoever did it must have a great deal of hatred.”

“Or not a lot to lose,” Jin Guangyao said. His hands were gripped tightly behind his back, thumbs digging into his wrists. He seemed to be thinking the word vile, vile, vile on repeat – possibly he was agreeing? Lan Xichen couldn’t quite tell; the curse was affecting him a little more slowly than his two sworn brothers. “Desperate people do desperate things.”

Nie Mingjue looked up with a frown. “Meng Yao, what do –” he started to say, then frowned, having clearly been sidetracked. “You think it’s an insult when I call you that?”

Jin Guangyao, equally distracted, stared at him. “You mean it as a compliment?”

“I don’t exactly like your father,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, sounding a bit puzzled – which, in fairness, he had never been anything but extremely obvious about his disdain for Jin Guangshan. “Why would I think adding his name to yours is a good thing? I’d rather honor the side of your blood that gave you that brain, since it isn’t the Jin sect.”

Jin Guangyao looked flattered – or, no, he didn’t look anything, but Lan Xichen was getting that distinct impression from him nevertheless. It seemed he’d reached the sensing-feelings stage: Nie Mingjue felt a little embarrassed at the reaction, and they were both feeling warmer towards each other.

Maybe they should postpone curing this thing, Lan Xichen thought briefly. If it could help them repair –

“Absolutely not,” both of his sworn brothers said together.

“We’re fixing this at once,” Nie Mingjue insisted, glaring at Lan Xichen.

“Immediately,” Jin Guangyao agreed.

Lan Xichen made a gesture of surrender. “I already have some ideas on how to cure the problem,” he said. “I won’t drag my feet, I promise.”

“Good,” Jin Guangyao said. “I would kill to get rid of this.”

“Speaking of that,” Nie Mingjue said, and he looked like he was starting to get angry, “let’s go back to that discussion of desperate people and how you were thinking about how to kill me –”

Lan Xichen had always respected Nie Mingjue – as a man, as a leader, as a friend – but his respect had recently reached new heights when he realized exactly how much the man wanted to murder just about other every sect leader out there, and yet didn’t.

Baxia’s unstinting support for this idea didn’t exactly help.

Jin Guangyao – who Lan Xichen was discovering to be far more vicious than his pleasant smile might have suggested – found Nie Mingjue’s grudge-bearing pettiness to be absolutely hilarious.

What about that one? he asked gleefully. Do we want to kill him?

yesevilkilldestroy, Baxia murmured. doitnow.

Please do not murder Sect Leader Lu, Lan Xichen said. He didn’t think Nie Mingjue actually would, but he felt the need to put his views out there.

I don’t know, Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully. He tried to flirt with me once.

That’s not a crime –

I was ten.

killevildestroy

I’m with da-ge on this one, Jin Guangyao chimed in. Just murder them all. I can provide an alibi.

He could provide six, in fact, each one of them smoothly unrolling like crisp paper in their mutual mind-space – they’d figured out a way to get some privacy – and Nie Mingjue huffed a mental laugh even as Lan Xichen sighed.

It would just figure that his two sworn brothers liked each other much more now that they had access to each other’s secret vicious thoughts – thoughts Nie Mingjue would never act on, given his principles, to the point that Jin Guangyao had once doubted he even had them; thoughts that Jin Guangyao thought would disgust them both, but which Nie Mingjue seemed to rather enjoy as long as Jin Guangyao never took any steps to actually execute them.

What disasters they both were.

“No murder,” Lan Xichen said sternly, futilely trying to conceal the warmth of his affection for them both.

His uncle turned to frown at him. “Xichen?”

Lan Xichen realized he’d spoken aloud by accident and flushed. “Forgive me, Uncle. I was –”

Reciting Lan sect rules!

“– contemplating the obligation not to take lives unnecessarily,” Lan Xichen said, finishing the lie almost smoothly. He’d gotten much better at it ever since the curse began.

Somewhat worse at self-restraint, though, which was a problem because he was apparently the only one of them with a functioning moral compass – Nie Mingjue had principles, which were most emphatically not the same thing (the concept of unearned mercy seemed to puzzle him, as did sympathy for people forced by circumstance), and Jin Guangyao…

Well, he tried.

Sometimes.

Mostly he faked his way through it.

Which was about what Nie Mingjue apparently did most of the time, too, so…

Lan Qiren was giving Lan Xichen a doubtful look, but seemed to accept the explanation and returned to his own meditation. Which was Lan Xichen was supposed to be doing, but Nie Mingjue was dealing with some minor sect leaders in his district with accompanying commentary by Jin Guangyao (supposedly supervising something in Lanling but actually bored out of his mind), and it was just so much more interesting…

You can meditate later, Nie Mingjue thought at him. I appreciate your level-headedness – as do my advisors. I’ve been getting compliments on how well I’m keeping my temper.

Thank A-Yao for that, Lan Xichen said. He’s the sneaky one.

I am, Jin Guangyao said, utterly shameless. And da-ge’s the straightforward one who punched my father in the face.

They all had a collective moment of gleeful bliss at the memory.

Do not damage others, Lan Xichen finally reminded them, albeit reluctantly.

Do not keep company with evil, Nie Mingjue shot back.

Do not act impulsively!

Do not argue with your family, Jin Guangyao interjected. For it does not matter who wins.

…ouch.

He got you there, Nie Mingjue crowed. A-Yao – mark your words.

Yes, yes, Jin Guangyao grumbled. I acknowledge you both as my real family now; will you stop holding the attempted murder thing over my head?

No, never, since it was quite possibly the only way to squeeze any empathy out of his (charmingly) self-absorbed sworn brother.

Anyway, it turned out well in the end, didn’t it? Nie Mingjue added. He thought I hit him because it turned out that he’d instigated the curse to be set against us.

Only you would end up getting a confession out of punching someone, da-ge, Lan Xichen said, amused. It’s positively unfair to the rest of us.

Yeah, da-ge. Leave some luck for the rest of us.

You’re acting sect leader of Lanling in light of your father’s imprisonment, Nie Mingjue reminded Jin Guangyao. How much more luck do you need?

I got that through hard work, thank you.

killevilliesLIES

…I retract the statement and request that Baxia stop glaring at me. Please.

Nie Mingjue snickered.

Lan Xichen laughed.

“A-Huan,” his uncle said. “What on earth is so funny?”

Lying was forbidden, so Lan Xichen was just – not going to explain.

Ever.

#mdzs #lan xichen #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #troika #Anonymous

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chenziee · 3 years

Text

There are sparks between us

First one for this batch of requests! (I really should stop pretending they’re going to be “drabbles”, I haven’t written a single one that could pass for a drabble)

Thank you so much @detective1412d for the prompt! This... might not be what you had in mind but I hope you like it! <33 (I absolutely love your username btw, just needed you to know that)

Requests are still open, please refer to this post for more info :)

[Read on AO3 or under the cut]

----------

Even when he was only just nearing the little house where he and the Straw Hats had taken shelter after the battle with Doflamingo, Law could tell it was noisy. That could only mean that Straw Hat was finally awake and a wave a relief washed over him. It wasn’t like Straw Hat sleeping the past few days away was unexpected after the strain on his body, and Law had checked his condition regularly to make sure everything was alright, but hearing his laughter was still a weight off of his shoulders.

He could do without the noise but he supposed that was just a part of the package with these pirates and their captain. Just couldn’t do the simplest of things quietly.

Law was surprised at the chuckle that had escaped him at the thought. When did he become so… fond of these people? He quickly wiped the smile off of his face, schooling his expression back to neutral as he reached out to open the door.

“Torao!” Straw Hat greeted him immediately. “Where did you go?”

Looking in the direction of the voice, Law was surprised to no find the other Straw Hats or the samurai sitting at the at the table but instead, Fire Fist Ace and the revolutionary army chief of staff were there with Straw Hat himself. What he wasn’t surprised about, however, was seeing his fellow pirate captain stuffing his face with food, his head barely visible behind the mountain in front of him. At least he swallowed his food before he tried to talk to Law.

“Just checking on the marines,” Law replied, leaning Kikoku against the wall and pushing his hood away from his face.

“Boring,” Straw Hat said in response.

“Someone has to do it since you people don’t seem to give a damn,” Law noted, raising a challenging eyebrow but Straw Hat only stuck his tongue out at him, making Law huff out a small laugh.

“The navy can suck it,” Fire Fist said as he stole a chicken leg right from under Straw Hat’s fingers, earning himself loud protests from his younger brother. A second later, a pipe came to land against the side of Ace’s head. The man clicked his tongue and dropped the chicken back on the pile with a huge pout.

Sabo smiled in approval, then finally reacted to Ace’s words, “Yeah, they don’t seem all too eager to catch us anyway.”

“That’s because gambler old man isn’t a bad guy,” Straw Hat said, nodding seriously to himself as he grabbed the chicken leg that Ace had tried to steal.

As if that made any difference. “He’s still an admiral. They’re going to move sooner or later,” Law sighed, ruffing Straw Hats hair on his way to grab some water.

The other pirate only snickered, letting his head fall so far back that Law’s neck hurt at the sight. “But Torao, it’s not like we can’t beat them.”

Before Law could say anything, Sabo interrupted him, “You’re not fighting an admiral, Luffy. Not now when you’re still recovering.”

“Exactly, Luffy. I’m the one who’s going to fight him,” Ace agreed in a grave voice.

“Neither of you is fighting the admiral!” Sabo snapped, and Law was glad at least one of these brothers seemed to be remotely sane.

Is what he thought at least, before Luffy whined, “Not fair, you already fought him, Sabo!”

His words were closely followed by Ace rolling his eyes and huffing, “You just want to fight him yourself.”

“What can I say, it’s my job to pick fights with the government,” Sabo said with a grin, shrugging as if what he had said made perfect sense.

Law sighed. How and why did he get involved with these people? “How about no one is fighting the admiral,” he said, voice perfectly flat as he shot them all a glare.

“You’re no fun.” Straw Hat announced, sounding as sulky as Law had ever hear him and looking back at Law with a huge pout on his lips.

Law felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. How was this idiot so cute? Moving away from the counter, Law took the two steps that separated them and leaned down, briefly pressing his lips to Luffy’s. It was just a quick peck, but only when the soft touch of skin sent jolts down his spine, making his heartbeat speed up like crazy, did Law realize what he had just done. He kissed Luffy.

He kissed Luffy.

They barely even had time to talk about this… thing between them—really only had a minute in the middle of the battle, back on the roof while Luffy’s haki recovered—just enough for some hurried confessions. Luffy was asleep the entire time after and Law wasn’t even entirely sure he felt the same way.

He was honestly starting to panic a little bit.

Taking a deep breath, Law finally stood up straight, moving as if on autopilot to drop into the last available chair at the table. Not like he could do much about it now except try to play it cool, after all. Especially when the silence suddenly hanging over the room was getting unbearable. He hoped his expression wasn’t betraying the battle that was raging in his mind but hell, he couldn’t even look anyone of them in the face. Mostly, he just didn’t want to know what expression Luffy was wearing right then so he only focused on the mug in his hands, taking a long sip of his water just to have an excuse to close his eyes.

He was brought back to reality when he felt something warm touch his cheek and his eyes shot open. It took him a second to realize what just happened. That Luffy had kissed him back. When he turned to look to the side, he came face to face with that bright, wide grin and he didn't bother stopping the small, soft smile that pulled on his own lips right then; the warm feeling in his chest and his stomach, the ghost of Luffy's touch on his lips and cheek… It was too much, too impossible to fight.

Plus, he didn't want to fight it anyway. Luffy reciprocating his feelings made him feel light, made him feel safe, made him happy, and Law was done running away from things that made him happy just because he was too scared to lose them.

He wasn't going to lose this one thing even if it killed him.

Suddenly, the comfortable warmth Law was feeling disappeared, only to be replaced by the unbearable heat coming from the wall of fire in his face. Law jerked back on reflex, nearly falling off of his chair in the process.

“Ace, stop!” came Luffy’s voice from somewhere on the other side of the fiery wall.

Law as well turned to look at him questioningly; the only possible suspect was glaring right back at him, an unspeakable fury written all over his face while his entire right arm was engulfed in flames. Even his hair was on fire.

“You touch my little brother again and I will burn your face off,” Ace growled, making the wall grow even larger to prove his point.

Law rolled his eyes. Talk about an overreaction.

Sabo’s hand landed on Ace’s shoulder a moment later. “Calm down, Ace, or you’re going to burn down the house,” he said, voice sounding soothing.

Law almost thanked him, but when he looked at the revolutionary’s face, there was a cold smile there and that was honestly a lot more terrifying than whatever Ace was show him.

“Just leave it to me, I’ll crush his head like an egg for robbing Luffy of his first kiss,” the man added, his hand already coated in Armament haki.

As if Law was about to stick around for that.

With a sigh, Law coated his own arm in haki and reached through the flames to grab at Straw Hat. “Shambles,” he said lazily and immediately, the two of them found themselves on the roof, the two enraged screams only a muffled echo from down below.

“Your power is always so cool,” Straw Hat breathed as soon as he found his footing after the sudden change of scenery.

“Thanks,” Law replied with a chuckle at the stars that were dancing in Luffy’s eyes. He was seriously too cute. However, his amusement soon died down when he remembered what Sabo had said and he frowned, his gaze turning to quizzical. “Was that really your first kiss?” he asked slowly.

Straw Hat cocked his head to the side, a confused expression finding its way on his face. “Yeah?”

A feeling of dread and shame washed over Law. He really fucked up there, didn’t he? “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to sound as sincere as he could.

“Why?”

Law paused, staring blankly at the honest, bemused frown on Luffy’s face that accompanied the simple question. Did he seriously not understand why Law was apologizing?

“For stealing your first kiss?” he tried, gesturing vaguely between them. “And without asking,” he added, making a face at his own stupidity. Why didn’t he realize what he was about to do until after it happened?

“Why?” Straw Hat asked again, pausing for a second before continuing, “I mean, it’s not a big deal, right? I don’t know why Ace and Sabo reacted like that. And I like you and I liked it so it’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Law blinked. Luffy wasn’t wrong but it… sounded a little too simple. Looking into Luffy’s eyes, Law couldn’t see any hint of uncertainty or any sign that he didn’t mean every single word he had said and out of nowhere, Law felt like he was the stupid one.

He couldn’t help it. He laughed, suddenly feeling so light and calm. Maybe he really shouldn’t be thinking too hard about things, especially where this idiot was concerned. It wasn’t like he bothered to think anything through, after all.

With a crooked smile still on his face, Law leaned forward, his fingers gently brushing Luffy’s cheek before they buried in his soft hair. He ignored the shouts of his name and death threats coming from the two brothers who were now running all around the house looking for them, only focusing on the grin on Luffy’s face and the warmth of his gaze. “Then I better do it more often,” he whispered only a second before their lips connected once more.

The kiss was slower this time, soft and innocent and making those damn butterflies in Law’s stomach go crazy. He really was so gone for this man. He couldn’t help but remember the time after they had left the auction house on Sabaody two years ago, the one where he met Luffy for the first time. After all was said and done, Shachi had looked at him with this stupid grin on his face and called Law smitten.

Law had just rolled his eyes and told him not to be an idiot but he wondered, if the same conversation happened now, whether he would be able to say anything against the accusation. Hell, maybe Shachi was right even then. Maybe Law was taken in by his brightness, the life he was radiating, and his reckless willingness to fight the entire world for the people he cared about. He couldn’t deny he was drawn to him ever since they first met.

Finally, they pulled away from each other, both out of breath and with smiles on their faces, and Law thought to himself that it might have been unavoidable. Unavoidable for Luffy to save him, both metaphorically and literally, for Law to fall in love, for the two of them being here, kissing on the roof while Luffy’s brothers went through several stages of mental breakdown below them.

And Law would go through everything that had happened in the past week all over again just for this moment.

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justlightlysedated · 3 years

Text

and if you are gone, i will not belong here

Michael is a witch and Alex is a Witch Hunter. They should be enemies, but they're in love instead.

for my lovely wife @christchex 🖤🖤💖💖

Excerpt:

Michael is more adept at spellcasting than creating charms, but sometimes the occasion is so dire that it calls for something stronger than a spell.

Michael isn't psychic like Isobel, but he gets these feelings sometimes, and he knows better than to ignore them.

And this feeling is telling him that something big was going to happen, something bad, and there was one person in his life who was in a precarious position. So he was going to do everything that he could to make sure that they were safe.

And if that meant that he had to do a little grave robbing, then so be it. The Witch Hunters did it all of the time.

Michael plans it all out very carefully once he figures out what grave he has to disturb. He chooses a night when the moon is full and the Witch Hunters will be busy with the Hellhounds who get more restless during the full moon, and practices the spell he’ll be using to pull the coffin through the dirt.

In order to make sure that the grave didn’t look disturbed, Michael had experimented with different spells until he found one that would do what he needed.

It would turn the packed dirt on top of the coffin almost like air, so that he could lift the coffin straight up, and then once he got what he needed he would do the spell again, and it would ensure that the grave looked completely undisturbed.

Everything goes according to plan, and he gets the medallion he’ll have to melt in order to create a blank one he could scribe on, but that wouldn’t mess with the blessing bestowed upon it.

He stuffs the medallion in his pocket and makes sure the coffin sinks back into the ground.

He breathes out relieved that everything went well, and lifts a hand to his hat to make sure that Andro was still resting on the brim. He touches the wispy, smoke-like, soft fur, and smiles.

He’s about to will himself back home, when he hears someone clearing their throat.

Michael whirls around, and almost curses, when he spots the two Witch Hunters.

Alex Manes sits on top of one of the headstones and Michael wonders how long he’s been sitting there, while one of his brothers, Greg, stands several feet further away, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Probably because out of the four Manes brothers, Greg was the one with the least amount of time in the field. He spent most of the year away at one of the Facilities in London, where he taught Witch Hunters to Be revisionist history propaganda.

Alex however, was a formidable opponent. And Michael felt his heart skipping several beats when Alex just tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at him.

If Alex had been alone, Michael might’ve moved a little bit closer, but with an audience, Michael just stays where he is and raises a hand to wave.

“Hi?” he says, more of a question than a statement.

“Hi,” Alex says back, pushing off from the headstone, and moving closer to Michael. “So are you going to give me what you’ve just stolen or am I going to have to go over there and take it from you?”

“I’d like to see you try,” he drawls, and then darts his eyes over to where Greg is moving closer to Alex. “But two against one isn’t entirely fair is it?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage,” Alex says, and then he’s darting forward.

Michael has learned over the last couple of months that Alex is the type who likes to get his hands dirty, especially while dealing with witches. He gets in close and personal and attacks before anyone can even muster up a defensive spell. But Michael has also learned that there are certain loopholes in Alex’s attacks.

He pulls the hat off his head and throws it at Alex, who catches it automatically, stopping in his tracks, probably because of Andro, who just stretches and yawns in Alex’s face.

Michael doesn’t wait to see what Alex will do with the hat. He moves forward, passing him, and reaching one hand towards Greg, who goes to defend himself, but Michael twists his fingers together and then flicks them out. The motion sends Greg flying backwards, hitting the side of one of the mausoleums.

He slumps to the floor unconscious, so Michael turns around to face Alex.

Alex is giving him a look like he can’t believe that Michael threw his familiar in his face, but Michael sees that he’d settled the hat down on the flat edge of the nearest tombstone, and he can just make out Andro, not surprisingly, still sleeping on the brim.

“You could've killed him,” Alex admonishes, pointing with his chin towards where Michael had thrown Greg, as he takes several steps closer to Michael

Michael shrugs unconcerned, moving forward as well, “Not my fault he’s standing behind enemy lines.”

“That mean you're gonna throw me around too?” Alex asks, slowing his movements to a stop.

Michael keeps walking until they’re standing probably too close, but he knows that Alex doesn’t mind, “I happen to know that you like being thrown around a little.”

Alex smiles, eyes glazing over a little like he’s imagining it, and then he bites his bottom lip and gives Michael a serious look, “You’ve gotta be more careful. Not everyone will like it as much as I do.”

Michael can tell that he’s not talking about what he just did to Greg, but more likely about the grave robbing incident.

“Sometimes needs must,” Michael drawls. “But I promise, I’m always careful.”

Michael infuses the words with innuendo, and he sees the way that Alex’s breathing speeds up marginally, and the way his eyes drop to Michael’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Alex breathes.

Michael drapes one of his arms on Alex’s shoulder, leaving his hand hanging down, and he leans in, close enough that he can feel Alex’s breaths across his mouth.

“Yeah,” Michael answers, low and throaty.

Alex shivers, eyes falling shut, and Michael twists his fingers, making a come here gesture, and smiles when his hat flies to his hand.

He brushes his nose lightly against Alex’s and wills himself away the moment that Alex’s eyes flutter open.

He doesn’t go too far, so he hears Alex’s bright laughter filling up the air. Michael smiles to himself, and puts his hat back on, a warm and happy feeling bubbling inside of him at the sound.

He pushes his hand into his pocket and wraps his fingers around the medallion. And looks over the side of the mausoleum to see Alex walking over to where his brother is.

Michael pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, and strengthens his resolve. He’s got a protection charm to make.

Read the rest on AO3.

#malex fic #the witch au is finally finished #after like over a month #anyway so it got a little long #over 15k so i posted it on ao3 since tumblr always pitches a fit over anything 10k and longer #and yes i have purposely left certain loose ends because i am hoping my attention span will allow me to write a second part to this #but if it doesn't then it's as finished as it can be for right now!!

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b00ket · 3 years

Text

OC GUIDE

Character sheets will be added later but here’s basic information on them

This post is already long as shit so BACKSTORIES FOR EACH UNDER THE CUT and side characters will be in a reblog later

Name: Amani Ayad

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Height: 5’ 8”

Birthday: July 23rd

Age: 18-22

Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Bisexual (weakness for women 😏👈🏽)

Country of Origin: Karnassos

Languages spoken: Fluent in whatever tf Vesuvians speak, Karnassi, and basic conversational skills in a handful of others

Hobbies: Partying HARD, growing plants, singing & playing Guitar/Fiddle

Magical Abilities:

Herbal Magic

Raw Magic (similar to Asra) (ill put a link that explains it in depth later)

FIREEEE

Personality:

Mischievous and mysterious. A liar. Definitely a flirt. Trust issues and a bit of a coward.

Name: Lucas Karimov

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Height: 7'

Birthday: July 10th

Age: 25-28

Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Demisexual

Country of Origin: Vesuvia

Languages spoken: Vesuvian

Hobbies: Cooking/Baking, Fighting, Gambling, Politics

Magical Abilities:

Learned how to channel whatever magic he produces into bouts of extreme strength

Personality:

Outgoing. Friendly! Altruistic and loyal to a fault. Has a fear of loss. Romantically dense (good luck flirting with him). Anger issues 😳. Holds a grudge. Not white.

Name: Kieran Power

Gender: Who cares (They/Them)

Height: 5’ 8”

Birthday: time is nothing

Age: Stopped keeping track (500~ years)

Romantic/Sexual Orientation: As long as you’re hot (Pansexual)

Country of Origin: A long abandoned village in the Southern Spines

Languages Spoken: Fluent in Most Languages

Hobbies: Throwing Parties, Reading, HOMOEROTIC SWORD FIGHTS, sleeping

Magical Abilities

Magic blocked by their deal

Personality:

Dramatic and they love it. Enjoys causing others pain. Depressed but wont admit it. Quick learner and a master of manipulation. Vengeful and will hold a grudge.

Name: Donovan Nwadike

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Height: 6’ 4”

Birthday: September 20th

Age: 33-36

Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Country of Origin: Nopal

Languages Spoken: Vesuvian, whatever you call the language of the Scourge

Hobbies: Sword Making, painting, sculpting

Magical Abilities:

Metal manipulation

Personality:

Quiet and reserved. Incredibly shy. Blames himself for most things that go wrong. Has the most braincells. REALLY STRONG PTSD. Self-sacrificing.

Amani Ayad

Family left Karnassos after Lucio’s murder of their mayor. Her family was labeled as cowards since.

Helped parents with a traveling doctor office. They went around the lands, healing people they come across and providing a meal. Her father helped her control her magic and mother taught her everything she needs to know about healing magic.

Helped a struggling town in the Shining Steppe. The people of that town later tried to raid their traveling doctors office. Someone shot a fire spell at the father that hit the shop instead. It exploded, killing the father and nearly killed Amani. Her mother grabbed her and escaped to a nearby abandoned shack to hide. The mother suspected they would come after the both of them and quickly gave Amani to a merchant ship. The merchant watched after her for a few months before selling her to a Pirate ship.

The crew was welcoming and caring at first, as time went on they demanded more of her (ex. cleaning the whole ship by herself instead of with the crew), and later forced her into being a fighter after discovering her magical Abilities and natural skills in fighting

Was undefeated in the ring. Gained the name “Hand of Death”

Made an attempt to kill the Captain. She failed, the Captain using a hot sword to scar her face before dumping her on the docks of Vesuvia. Was taken in by Lucas a few days later. A year later she made a home in a old abandoned apartment in the Flooded District where she grows herbs and heals anyone who catches her in her shop.

Now she tries to run from her past, replacing it with a new reputation. A party crasher, thief, general nuisance to law enforcement.

Lucas Karimov

Grandparents and Mother were refugees from the genocide of the Kokhuri. The mother fell in love and had 4 children.

They made a home in Vesuvia. Opening up a restaurant/bar called “The Iron Clad Owl”

Were generally poor (giving away free food/giving people money). Lived in a 2 bedroom apartment with Grandparents, 2 aunts, 6 children, parents, 2 dogs, and a parrot named stick

It was a crowded but homey house. They all slept in a giant cuddle pile. It was cute as SHIT

The siblings were all older than Lucas and liked the cause trouble to law enforcement, hang out with orphans and shop for food for da parents. The whole family hated Lucio and his rule from the rip. The aunts often participated in politics and 100% ranted to the children about government. Near the end of Lucio’s rule is when things went off the deep end.

During his rule: Oldest Brother falls into the Canal, dies of blood loss. The only sister was robbed (killed when she tried to fight back).

The plague: The Parents and brother die of the plague, the aunts flee out of fear of dying. Lucas takes up a job as a grave digger to keep the shop open shortly after. A brother gets involved in crime as a hitman. Jargal (brother) steals some food, gets caught and fights against the Scourge as a result.

After Lucio’s death: The brother is attacked by a revenge hitman, he is killed and the grandparents both die in the confrontation. Lucas sells the pets in a last ditch attempt to keep the shop open, the shop is closed. Lucas spirals into a depression, mentally stuck in a numbness that is only punctuated by bouts of anger and irritability. Finds a abandoned cat and adopts her. Befriends Amani.

Now he works as a dock worker, trying to heal old wounds and make lasting change in Vesuvia that finally serves the people.

Kieran Power

Works for a rich family. Is picked on and abused by their employers and other citizens in the village. The mayor’s daughter dies of “an illness” and they blame Kieran & their mother, saying they placed a hex on her.

Kieran’s mother is hung and Kieran escapes the same fate, running to hide in an old shed. A strong winter storm swoops in, trapping Kieran in there without food or warmth. Kieran discovers the body of the daughter with a knife in her heart. Kieran burns hot with rage and a need for revenge.

The Devil appears and offers to make a deal, to give Kieran the power to kill their enemies in exchange for a portion of their soul. Its a self enacted deal, sell a bit more if their soul for more power.

The technicalities of the deal: At least once a week Kieran needs to eat a person (collection of their soul). Without a meal their blood runs cold, the hunger grows, and when it hits a peak they become a beast. This can only be reversed with more than one human sacrifice.

They’ve been alive for centuries. They’ve seen and been subject to abuse that is only solved with more power. They only have a sliver of their soul left, instead choosing to gain power traditionally in the past few years. Gaining money and a powerful reputation. Has lost faith in humanity and believes they are better than them.

Hosts parties as an easy way to get a victim to eat. Really into sword collecting, befriending Donovan and has soft feelings for him.

Is always trying to gain power.

Donovan Nwadike (backstory in development)

Abandoned as a newborn in Vesuvia. Grew up as an orphan.

Thinks he is purposeless, joins a gang of orphans and becomes the punching bag/pushover of the group. Has a small book that he draws in.

Joins Lucio is his army (assuming Lucio has made attempts to expand the “Vesuvian Empire”) and befriends the lead medic.

Becomes a sword maker for Lucio’s army and eventually becomes a solider on the field. A sword to the eye takes his vision in one eye and a magical blast takes off his right arm.

He carries the weight of his actions, people he’s killed, people he couldn’t save on his shoulders. Tries to bring his friends back in a magical ritual, it fails. The ghosts of his friends haunt him, whispering and visible only to him.

Runs a blacksmith shop, his main customer is Kieran who enjoys his sword designs and paintings.

#amanidelaoc #lucasdelaoc #kierandelaoc #donovandelaoc #will be updated as i go

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Text

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS CRYPTIDS

READ THE OBEY ME UNDATEABLES AS CRYPTIDS HERE.

LUCIFER

It has stood there for so very long. Strutted about a bit, sat down to rest, and strutted about some more when other children passed by. It is at an exhibit at the zoo, after all, but you can’t help but think it looks a bit strange. Are peacocks supposed to have pitch-black feathers with thousands of eyes on it? Are peacocks supposed to have a massive crimson eye in the middle of their forehead? Is it even a peacock? You can’t remember if this exhibit was for peacocks. Where are the other people at the zoo?

You read the sign. BENGAL TIGER, it says.

It blinks at you. Its thousand other eyes blink afterwards in unison. As weird as it sounds, you’re pretty sure it’s waiting for you to compliment it.

MAMMON

You think it likes you. Or, at least, it seems to think of you as a friend in some way. The white crow leaves you little gifts everyday on your way home from school. Bits of shiny twine, bottle caps, the occasional soda tab or two. And then you begin to show it more and more attention, even naming it something silly like “Money”, and the thing responds in something like affection. The gifts become more extravagant: a broken necklace made from silver, a single earring, a gold bracelet encrusted with dark red, and an old ring inset with precious stones, to name a few. A pair of expensive-looking cuff links, a whole pair of earrings this time, and a circlet.

And then there is what looks like a golden tooth.

Your mother tells you over breakfast to watch out for suspicious people. There’s been a lot of grave robbing, you see. They’ve been stealing jewelry from the dead.

You drop your spoon into the cereal.

LEVIATHAN

It may be a snake -- a really big one, actually -- but you get the impression that it isn’t really dangerous. I mean, it’s not poisonous, so the worst thing it can do is bite, right? And it doesn’t seem like it would want to do that. It hisses almost playfully when you pet it, wrapping its coils around your arm as if it wants to give you a hug, and a few times you even let it kiss you in the face. You know that snakes don’t really kiss, but what’s the harm in that?

Your crush from third period walks you home one day, holding your hand, and even gives you a kiss on the cheek when he leaves you at your doorstep. Tells you that he’ll see you tomorrow. You don’t see the snake for a while.

His body is found strangled to death a couple weeks later, his arms and legs covered in bite marks from some massive animal. The snake comes up to you the next morning, affectionate as ever. You decide not to do stuff like that anymore.

SATAN

He’s a stray dog. You’d have to be a monster not to give him scraps. So you do, and the dog asks for more. You give him more. For the next few weeks – months, even – it becomes your routine: you sit at the secluded spot in the school courtyard, the giant hound with green eyes saunters up to you, and you share its lunch with it. It naps in the shade while you do your homework after school, seeing how your older brother doesn’t always show up in time to walk you home after your after-school club.

The bully from your fourth period class throws you into the trashcan one day, laughing and taunting you. Her friends join her, and soon you are being surrounded and kicked and stomped on the pavement. But you don’t cry out. You won’t give her the satisfaction.

A blow to your head, and all is dark.

You wake up sometime later. The sunset is beautiful. The area around you is warm – so, so warm – and strangely wet. The dog licks your face and wounds again and again, and you try not to giggle at the sensation. He’s a good boy.

Aside from the carnage that now surrounds you, he is such a good boy. You’ll bring him barbecued meat next time.

ASMODEUS

You gotta admit, it’s a pretty cute scorpion. You’re not really sure why it’s pink or why it’s following you, but at least it hasn’t shown any defensive or aggressive instincts. So it can’t be that aggressive. You let it be as you take the long hike back to your camp site. Your fellow co-workers in the field wouldn’t even believe you, anyway. The damned thing is probably spray-painted or something like that. Some weird kid’s prank.

Strangely enough, however, you notice it scuttling around at camp. Your co-workers seem to be getting stung by a great many insects while in the field, but they don’t seem to mind it. Or even bother treating it, for some reason. Then there’s that weird behavior – no, you’re thinking into it too much. Comparing a bright pink scorpion to a succubus is a little too crazy, even for you.

And then a strange man with pink eyes and a tipped tail stands in front of your tent one night, a rather satisfied smile on his face. You’re the only one that hasn’t been stung, he tells you. It’s your turn.

BEELZEBUB

You’re pretty sure insects aren’t supposed to look like that. Or be that big, for that matter. But he’s kinda cute, being fuzzy and orange and all, and only wants a bit of food every now and then. Mama always makes too much, anyway. A half-eaten pork chop that you didn’t want, an entire plate of rice, extra dumplings – everything, you know? Mama can’t have dinner with you because she has the graveyard shift, your dad always stumbles home smelling like alcohol, and as weird as it is, this orange fuzzy thing is your only friend. So you keep feeding him.

You wake up to screaming one night. They’re arguing like they always do, but – but this time there’s something different. Something wrong. Mama lets out a high-pitched scream, and then all is silent.

Despite being only a kid and armed with a single frying pan, you burst into the room. Blood trails from Mama’s mouth and she’s unconscious, but she’s still breathing. Just barely alive. It looks like she got hit in the head pretty hard.

There’s the sound of eating from across the room. You don’t pay attention to it too much. The fuzzy orange thing saved Mama’s life, so that’s all that matters. And at least you won’t have to feed him for a while.

BELPHEGOR

He is quite possibly the laziest ox you’ve ever seen. Sleeps all day, sleeps all night, and refuses to pull even the lightest of carts. Your uncle says he’s nothing more than a nuisance, really, but he’s nice enough. He even naps with you on long summer days, acting as both a pillow and bed, and it looks like he even grows fond of you. He seeks you out in the fields, presses his big nose into your palm, and nuzzles you.

You run through the fields, your heart hammering in your chest, but you’ll be damned if you let the neighbor’s boy catch you. You’ve already seen something that you weren’t supposed to, and he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. And he’s coming after you.

You hop over the fence. Shouldn’t be too long to the house now. He yells taunts and threats at you as you carve your way through the darkness, nearly running blindly, and then --

He grabs you by the back of your shirt. You scream. You see the glint of a knife, the murderous intent flashing across his eyes, and you know it’s over. You can only hope you die quickly enough.

The next morning, you wake up on something soft. Warm. The lazy ox grumbles beneath you, protesting as you sit upwards in a panic, and then you realize that you are safe. Last night was just a nightmare. It never happened.

And then you happen across the body. There is an indent in the grass around it, as if something massive had just fallen asleep on the body.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #obey me headcanon

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elizabeethan · 3 years

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Steal Away: 2 / 5

When a bank robbery with his brother goes horribly wrong, Killian Jones learns to heal with the help of a fiery blonde who happened to get caught in the crosshairs.

A Modern AU

Based loosely on the movie Hell Or High Water (and so I tag @captainswanmoviemarathon)

Read on Ao3

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Read my Other Stuff

A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot, but it’s, like, 24k words so I thought it would be best to split it up. I’m probably going to post one part a night for the next week or so, though.

This part is rated T as well, mostly for language and car sickness :) (I’ll let you know when we get to M hehehe)

thank you as usual to @the-darkdragonfly, @donteattheappleshook and @xhookswenchx for letting me ramble about this for weeks, and to Kay for beta-ing <3

~~~~

It happens quickly.

Her sense of humor, her taste in music, the adorable way she snorts when he hits a pothole while she’s sleeping… it’s impossible for him to avoid the feelings that stir in him. It’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which he begins to recognize his feelings, but it’s not as if he plans on sharing them at any point.

The fact is… he likes her. She’s cute, and funny, and undeniably sexy, and he knows that if she wasn’t here, he probably wouldn’t be either. He would’ve been arrested right off the bat, or shot in the bank himself, or drowning in a bottle of rum beside his brother’s grave. If it wasn’t for Emma Swan and her insistence to stay in his life, he wouldn’t be on his way to Maine to pick up the only remaining person in his life who means something.

Although, perhaps that isn’t true, because after a day on the road, he’s discovered that she’s starting to mean something, too.

He doesn’t know enough about her to dignify a crush, but he also isn’t stupid. He knows that he’s infatuated with her. He knows that he’s finding it hard to keep his gaze off of her. He knows that her stunning green eyes play off of the gold of her skin and her hair in such a way that makes his heart race. He knows that, based solely on what she’s told him so far, he’s desperate to know more.

She doesn't have a family. She spent much of her childhood homeless and running away from abusive foster placements. She was abandoned as an infant, left in the woods at only a few hours old. She’s been through hell and back, and she still manages a blinding smile.

Her ex boyfriend is the reason she’s here with him, he thinks. She says that he screwed her over and that she wants nothing more than to get away from him and from the place that reminds her of him, and Killian thinks this all happened at a rather convenient time for her. She told him yesterday, when he was panicking over his brother’s demise, that she could tell that he was there in that bank for a good reason, and he’s taken to assuming that she has a good reason to assume that.

They hardly know each other, and yet he feels as though he’s known her his whole life. He knows so little about her, and yet, he can read her like she’s an open book. The term kindred spirits feels naive, and yet, that’s exactly what they are.

“Are we gonna stop in Chicago?” she asks excitedly as she watches the Welcome to Illinois sign pass them by.

“Definitely not,” he laughs. “It’s far too north for where we’re headed.”

“What, and Maine isn’t?” she snorts, shaking her head and pointing out a bird that flies by. “What’s up there, anyway?”

Immediately, his heart starts racing and his palms start sweating at the thought of telling her the true reason for their trip. It dawns on him that, when they arrive, he would have to tell her anyway, lest he abandon her in town before he arrives at the lawyer’s office.

Of course, Emma has experienced her fair share of abandonment at this point in her life, and while he hardly knows her and shouldn’t care, he wouldn’t dare contribute to the trauma that comes with the feeling of being left behind and forgotten.

Bloody hell.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she says after a long moment of silence.

He clears his throat, drawing his focus back to the highway before him. “It’s alright, love. I just… it’s a sore subject, I suppose.”

“We share a lot of those,” she jokes, smirking at him and making his heart race. More gently, she reasons, “which means you should know by now that I won’t judge you.”

“Aye,” he agrees immediately, because he does know that. “Aye, you’re right. It’s, um… my child.”

He catches her balking, her jaw dropping and then snapping shut in quick succession before he needs to focus back on the road. “You have a kid?”

With a nod, his grip on the steering wheel tightens. This vehicle is better than the last, the clutch not sticking like the one in the truck had, but it’s so small and cramped that he doubts they’ll be able to sleep comfortably in these seats tonight. He’d best pull over soon so that they can find a place to sleep. “I do,” he confirms. “A daughter. She’s eight.”

“How old are you?” she asks in shock.

He narrows his eyes, shifting his gaze to her briefly and suspiciously asking, “how old are you?”

“I asked you first,” she says seriously, as if she truly doesn't want to disclose her age, and he begins to panic. She looks old enough, but the potential that he’s just kidnapped a minor on top of everything else begins to assault his thoughts.

“Please just tell me I didn’t kidnap you,” he begs, his heart racing.

“No,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m 23, and much more mature than you.”

With a sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a sigh of relief, he nods. “Aye, love. I’m sure you are.”

She sits in silence, staring at him expectantly, and he knows that it drives her mad when he smirks and begins to laugh. “Don’t be stupid! Just tell me how old you are!”

“I’m… I’m 31.”

“Oh,” she says, chuckling beside him. “So you’re not that much of a cradle robber. Just a regular old bank robber.”

“Oy!” he shouts in offense, staring at her in shock. “Sensitive subject. And what makes you think I’m trying to rob your... cradle?”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Please. I saw the way you were staring at my ass at that last rest stop.”

She could’ve chosen a more opportune time to say that, perhaps when he wasn’t taking a sip of coffee. It’s rather uncomfortable coming up his nose. “Love,” he says through a cough. “I’m not— that is, I meant not to—”

“It’s fine, Killian,” she tells him, giggling softly and playfully. “A girl likes to feel flattered, especially a girl who feels like a—”

Her jaw snaps shut and her eyes grow wide, the emerald catching the rays of the sun and throwing glints of gold. “Like a what, darling?”

“Like… um, like I could eat everything on the menu at McDonalds. Is it time to stop yet?”

“No,” he laughs, although he finds that he struggles to say no to her and mean it, even after such little time, and he indicates his intent to change lanes and moves towards an exit. “We only stopped for breakfast a few hours ago.”

“Well, I’m starving,” she tells him, shooting him a soft smile. “And if I don’t stretch my legs in a minute, they’re gonna fall off.”

“You need to stretch your legs? Your feet are currently on top of my dashboard. Is that not enough of a stretch?”

“Your dashboard? I’m pretty sure I witnessed you stealing this car.”

“From a scrapyard,” he mumbles, giving her a shy smile as he exits the highway. “What do you want for lunch? Or should I say brunch? It’s barely eleven.”

“We crossed time zones, you ass.”

“What do you want?” he laughs.

She hums playfully, pretending to ponder his question seriously and says, “a prime rib, cooked medium rare, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes. Caramelized onion and mushroom sauce on the steak. And some green beans, for balance.”

Shaking his head and laughing along with her, he says, “chicken nuggets and fries it is, darling.”

~~~~

“You need to pull over,” she says suddenly, breaking almost an hour of silence between them during which he was certain she was asleep. After their early lunch, he decided to keep driving, anticipating that she would take over in a few hours.

“Emma,” he sighs, “we only just stopped two hours ago.”

“I’m not asking,” she demands. “I’m telling you that if you don’t pull over,” she puts her hand over her mouth, her retching and gagging preventing her from saying anything more.

“Jesus,” he mumbles as he pulls into the breakdown lane, barely stopped and still in gear when she thrusts the door open and loses her lunch all over the ground. He can’t ask her if she’s alright because she hasn’t stopped vomiting, so he checks his side mirror and opens his door, walking around the front of the car to meet her. He stands behind the door and places his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp as she shudders violently. “I didn’t realize you were prone to car sickness.”

She groans, shaking her head and resting it against the window at her side. “I think your driving has gotten worse.”

He hums, continuing his ministrations on her scalp as she catches her breath. “Was it the chicken, love? I knew that stuff was crap.”

“No, it’s your crap driving.”

“Do you want to take over, then?”

“No, I want to sleep.”

“Come on out and get some fresh air, would you?” She whimpers as he pulls the door open a bit more, and he takes her hand to help her out and around her sick. “It’s alright, love, come here.”

She breathes deeply as she stands, and only remains in front of him for a moment before she falls forward against his chest and into his arms. “Sorry,” she whispers into his sweatshirts wrapping her arms around his waist and holding herself close to him. “For delaying the trip.”

“You needn’t worry about that, love,” he soothes, and he focuses on moving his hands along her back and hair in the same way she had his. “A few moments while you find your bearings won’t hurt. Are you alright?”

She nods against him, a sound coming from her throat that makes him squeeze her tighter. He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, the need to comfort her interrupting any reasonable thoughts in his head. She whispers, “yeah,” so softly that he kisses her again.

“During lunch I found a small campground that takes cash. It’s only another few hours; can you make it that far? We can use the tent and the camping mat instead of sleeping in the car.”

“Luxurious,” she jokes softly, maintaining her firm embrace around his middle. “That sounds perfect.”

~~~~

She’s relentless in her jokes at his expense as he struggles with the tent. It’s dusk, and there’s a decent canopy of trees above him, and, as she points out often, he’s getting old. He struggles to see the small pieces and determine what goes where, and she’s hardly any help as she sits in the car laughing at him as she claims to be recovering from another spell of car sickness.

“You could try helping me, you know,” he finally mumbles as the structure collapses again and he’s met with her symphonic laughter.

“Need a newer pair of eyes, Captain?” she asks in good humor, standing and bounding towards him confidently. It’s almost miraculous how quickly she’s recovered, and yet her nausea seems to keep coming back.

“Very funny, love. Come and tell me where E connects to G.”

It’s impossible to ignore the way the full moon shines against her hair, almost white in the dim light of the night sky. The gentle waves flow freely as she releases the tie from around her locks, rubbing her palms over her face as she settles into the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. She gives him a soft, gentle smile as he zips the tent’s opening securely shut, taking his place upon the ground between her and the door. “Where’s yours?” she asks, gesturing down at her sleeping bag and camping mat.

He shrugs and then nods towards her. “Someone stole it.”

Her eyes widen in surprised embarrassment and she asks, “this is yours? What about-- weren’t you and… I mean…”

Smiling as he lies down on his back, he turns his head to face her and says, “I was meant to travel alone, actually.”

Just as he thinks she’s about to match his position and lie back herself, she stirs and begins tugging on the sleeping bag until she’s out of it. She shakes it out in front of herself to straighten it and then feels around in the dark for the zipper, pulling it around the puffy fabric until it’s fully open before her. Turning towards him, she gives him another soft smile and dramatically opens it like a parachute, draping it over the both of them. “There you go,” she says with finality. “We can share.”

“You don’t have to do that, love. It’s summer anyway.”

“We’re sleeping outside, and you're taking a second, unexpected person on your trip across the country, who also happens to frequently demand pit stops. The least I can do is share your sleeping bag with you.”

“Well… thank you, lass. That’s very kind of you.”

“I just can’t part with the mat, sorry. The ground is way too hard.”

He laughs as he turns to his side, silently agreeing with her that the ground is mighty firm as he grimaces. “You can’t spare it for an old man with old bones?”

She shrugs, laughing softly as well as she rolls to her side to face him head on. “You're not that old.”

“So I'm only young when it suits you?”

“I didn’t say you were young.”

He hasn’t laughed this much in years. Before he met her, he hadn’t been so close to a woman in almost a decade. He’s forgotten how soothing the gentle touch of another can be, and he’s been hard pressed to ignore how especially soothing she is, in particular. “You do have quite the sense of humor, love.”

“All in good fun,” she smiles. He catches her gaze shooting down at the hem of the old sleeping bag, her fingers fiddling with some thread that has pulled away from its place. “Will you tell me something?” she asks in a whisper.

“What is it?”

She clears her throat nervously, continuing to avert her eyes from his, and asks, “will you tell me about your daughter?”

With a hum and a sad smile, he bites his bottom lip and nods, the memories of his love flooding back into his mind, as if he’s ever been able to prevent them. “Alice,” he says. “She’s just turned eight a few months ago. I missed her birthday.”

“Why? What happened?”

He notes the way that her fingers continue to play at the loose threads, and he matches her actions just beside her. “I was with my mother; she was dying and had no one else while Liam was in jail. I wanted to bring Alice with me, but… her mother wouldn’t allow it.”

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately. He hears a rustle against the mat her head lies on and lifts his own gaze to meet hers.

“Thank you.”

“When did you see her last, then?”

He gulps over the lump in his throat. “It’s been well over a year.”

She sighs, and he doesn’t think he imagines the minute amount of space that she closes between them. “You must miss her terribly.”

“Aye, I do. Everyday.”

“Is there… I mean, is there a reason it’s been so long? I’m not trying to judge you, I’m sorry, I just—“

“It’s alright, love,” he interrupts, noting the sudden shift in her demeanor as she realizes the nature of her question. “Her mother was rather… controlling, I suppose. I believe she used drugs and alcohol for much of Alice’s early life. I don’t have any reason to believe she used during her pregnancy, but I cared for Alice from birth when Eloise fell off the wagon. I even named her, after my ailing mother. But a few years later, she got clean and started to take over. She took Alice to live with her; became upset when I came around. And eventually, the way she would scream at me when I tried to visit made Alice upset, so I stopped coming around as much.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and he wonders if he’s taken things a bit too far. If he’s opened up to her too much. He fears this for what feels like an eternity as she lies beside him, her warm breath washing over his nose as he thinks the worst. That he’s upset her, that he’s offended her, that he’s made her think of the trauma of being abandoned herself as he describes the way he abandoned his own daughter. And his fears are confirmed when she sniffles softly before him and moves her fingers from the frayed threads to her eyes, wiping tears away.

“Emma,” he whispers into the darkness, “I’m sor--”

“That’s so terrible,” she interrupts sadly, and he bows his head in shame, knowing already that his actions are deplorable. Until she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry… for what?” he asks in shock, speaking almost at full volume, a contrast to their whispering tones.

“You just--” she sniffs once more, “--it’s obvious how badly you want to be in your daughter’s life, and you haven’t been able to. That’s got to be the worst feeling… I can’t even imagine not being allowed to…”

Clearing his throat, he takes a risk by reaching before himself to wipe a tear from her soft cheek with his thumb, almost desperate to comfort her as she has him the entire time he’s known her. “It’s alright, love,” he whispers. “I’m going to get her back, with your help. I wouldn’t be here, on my way to her, if it weren’t for you.”

She sniffles and laughs at the same time, adorably embarrassed at the sound that escapes her, and asks, “what’s changed now? With you and her mom?”

“She died,” he answers simply. If she had begun to relax slightly into his hand, she stiffens at his words. “She relapsed, mixed drugs and alcohol… her body couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “That must’ve been hard, too.”

“Not much,” he answers too quickly. She draws her brows together in question and he continues, “I’m sad for Alice; she’s lost her mother. But she never really had her much. Eloise was never a very devout mother. It always seemed like she was in it for the image, or only when it suited her. I don’t think she ever really wanted a child.”

Emma nods gently, the small gap between them getting smaller when a gust of wind shakes the tent and she slides closer to him. “Was she, I mean, was Alice a surprise?”

“Oh, aye, very much so,” he laughs softly. “El and I weren’t ever a couple, we just met at a bar and… well, we were only together once. It was sort of a low point for me.”

“I get that,” she nods again. “Sleeping with the wrong person, I mean. Not that… I mean, not that Alice was a mistake or anything, of course.”

“I know what you mean,” he consoles in a whisper as she again worries that she’s offended him. She should know that she couldn’t possibly say the wrong thing, because despite how short of a time he’s known her, he knows that she can do no wrong in his eyes.

“Will you tell me about her? Like… What was it like when she was a baby? Was it very hard?”

He hums and nods, agreeing, “it was hard, yes; I was mostly alone. But it was so worth it.”

“It was?” she asks softly, almost insecurely and making him narrow his eyes in thought.

She hasn’t told him anything, but he isn’t a fool. He means every word of what he says to her next, and says it in hopes that he can give her solace. “Aye. As hard as life has been, I wouldn't change anything because it’s how I got Alice.”

In a move that surprises him almost as much as it doesn’t, she moves as close to him as she can and tucks her head into his chest, just below his chin, and wraps her arm around his waist. “That’s a good point,” she murmurs into his sweatshirt.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks, accepting her into his embrace and letting his hand run along the length of her spine over her own sweatshirt. He reminds himself that he doesn’t truly know her, so he can’t assume that this isn’t like her, but it feels profound.

She nods against his chest, pulling herself impossibly closer as she seems to seek more warmth and a firmer embrace. “It’s weird,” she starts, her voice muffled. “I barely know you, but it feels like you're my friend.”

“I am your friend,” he agrees with a smile. “And you’re mine. I told you I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

“Of course not. I’ve been driving most of the way.”

She snorts, nuzzling her nose into the crook between his neck and his shoulder and squeezing around his waist. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve been puking nonstop.”

“Would you like to drive tomorrow, then?” he laughs.

“Sure.”

“Alright. We’ll need to leave quite early. Just another two days to go, I think.”

“Okay,” she yawns, falling asleep in his arms feeling, he hopes, as safe as he does.

~~~~

Tagging:

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor

#captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan au #modern au #cs ff au #Steal Away #steal away ff #cs fluff #cs angst #eventual smut #hurt/comfort

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burberryfaerie · 3 years

Text

If Tonks had a younger sibling Pt 4 :

Pairings : Cedric diggory x gryffindor!reader

Warnings : Angst, fluff, character death, torture, crying, swearing, a war basically, possible spelling mistakes

A/N : In case if you're asking, yes i was crying during writing this.

Tags: @loveitsonlyforthebrave ❤️

Hermione apparates you to a place called Tottenham Court Road.

“The heck is a cappuccino? Is it better than butterbeer?”

Your ring suddenly rings violently and you can't understand why?

Dolohov and Rowle rudely interrupt your thoughts.

Going to Grimmauld place knowing damn well you're being followed.

Arthur Weasley's patronus reassuring that everyone is okay.

Remus's unlikely visit.

Muggle-borns are targeted by the ministry.

Your father and best friend are targeted.

Dora's pregnant.

You'll have your own niece / nephew.

But he wants to leave her.

“Me and my family went through shit Remus, and I won't let you break my sister's heart.”

Hating Remus with every inch of you.

Because how dare he breaks Dora's heart.

Kreacher's tale.

Regulus died as a good person who lived beneath the shadows of his prejudiced family.

The locket is with umbridge.

well, fuck

You know what's fucker?

Snape is headmaster

“WHAT ABOUT MINNIE?”

“who the heck are the carrows?”

Going to the ministry after drinking polyjuice potion and morphing in your case.

"Magic is might"

Seeing 'Umbitch'

Harry stupefying umbitch.

Escaping the ministry before Yaxley gets hold of you.

Apparating to a mysterious place.

A forest apparently.

Ron's splinched.

Hermione's protection spells.

“How do you have time to learn all this stuff? Last time I checked we go to the same school,”

“Last time I checked you don't study a word.”

Taking turns in wearing the locket since you can't destroy it.

Feeling so cruel once it rests around your neck.

It's a part of voldemort's soul afterall.

Ron leaving three months later.

Crying your eyes out every night because you miss your best friend so much it hurts.

Same thing with Hermione.

“Why haven't you told him Mione?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you love him”

You give her a knowing look, she returns it with the faintest of smiles.

Going to Godric's Hollow.

Looking at the statue of Lily, James amd baby Harry with sadness and awe.

They were too young to die.

Too innocent to die.

You visit their grave.

You smiled because you suddenly felt their presence, two warm souls watching over you.

Bathilda Bagshot.

Fuck that's a snake.

Voldy is here and he was about to murder the three of you right before you apparated.

Fast forward when Ron returns.

You're so. bloody mad at him but can't help it and pull him into a hug.

“You're such an idiot, Ronald Billius Weasley.”

Hermione's so mad too but you know damn well she still loves him.

Ron and Harry telling the events of last night, first horcrux is destroyed, wohoo.

Visiting Xenophilious Lovegood.

The deathly hallows and the tale of the three brothers.

Luna's painting of you, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and her.

“She's so precious.” you think.

Xenophilious's betrayal.

Hermione wiping the fuck outta his memories.

fast forward a couple of days later.

listening to potterwatch. the norm.

lee jordan's voice

“Let's take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network and Daily Prophet don't think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.”

Feeling the worst heartache you've ever felt.

feeling as if every muscle, every cell in your body stopped functioning.

“No”

he can't die.

he was always okay. he can't just die.

he's expecting a grandchild. he can't just go.

The trio rushing to hug you.

Harry not able to meet your eyes.

“I'm so sorry” Hermione sobs into your neck.

You don't cry.

You can't cry.

You just sit there, feeling emptiness.

You suddenly get up, shoving everything in your way.

Ron holding you back.

"it's okay, I'm here” he reassures you.

You letting out a heart-wrenching scream that came out from god knows where.

Thank god Hermione has protection spells.

The trio tuck you into bed, making sure you were asleep.

You slept almost instantly, dreaming of your father who speaks to you.

“I'm always here, watching over you. Don't give up sweetheart, fight for your mom, dora, Remus and Cedric.”

“How'd you know about Cedric? ”

“I knew all along” he smiled

Waking up feeling slightly better the next day.

Fast forward when the snatches caught you.

Taken to Malfoy Manor

Bellatrix torturing you and craving "traitor" on your arm.

She also tries to slit your throat.

“You know? I want to murder you so badly, so you'd end up like your mudblood father, but I'll torture you, unril you beg for mercy.”

Literally screaming throughout the whole process.

“I know about Diggory, he's quite of a traitor, but his blood is pure, he won't want a filthy half-blood traitor like you with him.”

“SHUT UP, YOU DON'T KNOW HIM, SHUT U—”

being cut of with her dagger cutting your skin.

she moves on to Hermione next while you watch helplessly.

Dobby, Harry and Ron save you two.

Apparating to shell cottage.

You spot a small, weak figure in the distance.

You try reaching out for it, but you're too weak.

You loose consciousness in Ron's arms.

Next thing you knew you were in a room, Fleur watching over you.

Learning that Dobby's lost his life.

Feeling so weak.

Remus visits.

Little Teddy is born!!!

Can't help but feel so happy and hugging Remus, forgetting about all the drama.

Harry's Teddy's godfather.

yay

Gringotts

You hide under Harry's cloak.

You get caught.

Robbing Bellatrix's vault.

Getting the horcrux and giving griphook the sword.

Aaaaaand Griphook betrays you.

Escaping on a dragon.

Basically having to head to hogwarts.

To get the horcrux.

Hogsmeade at Abeforth Dumbledore.

Ariana Dumbledore's portrait.

NEVILLLEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Him looking terrible yet dashing at the same time.

From your conversation, you concluded that the carrows and Snape are absolute assholes.

Reuniting with all your friends!

Harry goes to Ravenclaw tower with Luna.

The order is here .

Cedric spots you.

He literally just picks you up and kisses you.

infront of everyone basically.

including the adults.

feeling sorta awkward but you don't care.

“YOU ESCAPED GRINGOTTS ON A DRAGON?!! DAMN IT LOVE HOW CRAZY CAN YOU GET?!!! ”

Harry interrupts your adorable moment.

Voldemort wants Harry.

“Potter's right here! someone grab him”

yeah of course, pugface parkinson.

literally everyone jumping in to defend Harry.

The battle has started.

You seeing Dora and running to hug her.

“MY BRAVE SISTER!” she shouts.

“Once we're outta here, we're spoiling Teddy with every inch of me.”

“I kinda approve though”

Duelling multiple death eaters.

Including Dolohov, Rookwood, Rabstan Lestrange.

Saving Malfoy's arse from the flames in the room of requirement.

Going to the shrieking shack to face Voldemort.

Snape's dead.

He's acting weird all of a sudden.

Voldemort wants Harry to meet him in the forbidden forest.

The chaos has calmed down.

You enter the great hall.

Your eyes roam around the room to find the redheads huddled together, the Diggorys, somewhat crying?

You take a closer look, seeing what they're all mourning.

You shake your head in disbelief.

Remus and Dora?

Your sister?

Your soulmate?

They just had a baby.

You felt Fred and George hug you, Hermione and Ginny hugging eachother.

You kneel down.

Your world is crushing.

They're dead but they look so peaceful.

You hugged Dora.

Ever so tightly.

The last time you'll ever hug her.

You wished you can turn the clock back, to listen to to weird sisters together, to giggle behind the Malfoys back together, to annoy your mother together.

Perhaps you could've been able to save her.

You rest your head on her chest.

Muffled voices of everyone else speaking were in the background.

But you didn't care.

You let out a cry, a small one.

You let out a slightly louder one.

You felt your chest tighten, your stomach churn, you felt your eyes twitch underneath your lids.

You heard Cedric's comforting voice.

“Shhhhhh.. I got you love”

But his words are not comforting you.

You just lay there on Dora's chest.

By that, you knew your hair will never turn pink again.

You don't know how many minutes or hours had passed by.

You heard the familiar snake-like vouce of Lord Voldemort.

“Harry Potter is dead He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

You slightly lift your head.

The great hall was deadly silent.

You were sure he was lying.

You slowly walked up, holding hands with Ron and Hermione, exiting the great hall.

Voldemort and his army stood and your eyes spotted Hagrid.

He was carrying someone.

It was Harry.

Your body can't lift you anymore.

Mconagall let out a terrible scream followed by yours , Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Cedric's then everyone else.

Neville standing up to Voldemort.

He- he killed the snAKE??!!!

You just watchung Neville like a proud mom.

Cahos erupts once more.

Harry's gone?

No like seriously, he's just vanished.

poof

Spotting Cedric taking over three death eaters all at once.

Just being so proud of him.

You duelling Rodolphus Lestrange.

Took over him (as you should)

Moving to Bellatrix Lestrange.

Duelling her with Hermione, Luna and Ginny.

Bitch just aimed a killing curse at Ginny??!

About to make your move but-

“Not my daughter you bitch”

literally internally screaming because MOLLY WEASLEY DID NOT JUST CUSS???

Bellatrix's downfall.

Just felt a bit relaxed.

Voldemort is about to kill Molly but—

FUCK??

HARRY??

DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER TURN INTO A GHOST TO KILL VOLDEMORT?!!

Voldemort's downfall.

The man who everyone feared sayimg his name, just, fell down.

dead

Post-battle

You hug your mom so tight , she knew about everything.

You raising Teddy along with your mother and Harry.

You still have nightmares and trauma from the war.

But, Cedric was always there for you.

Not like he was any better, but you two comfort eachother.

Him placing soft, small kisses around your "traitor" scar after telling him about the Malfoy Manor events.

You, Harry, Ron amd Hermione gather at the burrow, just sitting there in comfortable silence, holding eachother.

Three years pass by and Cedric's on one knee, asking you to be his forever.

You frantically saying “Yes” before hugging him.

You were now an auror, just like Dora.

The wedding was so simple.

You had Hermione, Ginny and Luna as your bridesmaids.

Looking at the empty seats made especially for your father, Remus, Dora and Sirius.

Saying "I do" before leaning in and kissing him.

And for the first time in three years, your hair turned pink again.

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slimeypuppy · 2 years

Photo

Summary: On the night of Shiv's wedding, Roman and Kendall went for a drive that ended in a horrible car accident. Kendall survived; Roman did not. His spirit, however, lives on.

WC: 2.6k | AO3

Chapter: Triple Concerto (4/13)

When they all arrive back home, Kendall decides to get sober again. He doesn’t want to, but he has to keep moving somehow; he doesn’t want to rob Connor and Shiv of another brother, and the drugs must be to blame for the constant hallucinations. They’re not unheard of for his high brain to concoct, and as a matter of fact, once he’s made his way through withdrawals, they go away until his next inevitable fuck-up. He’s four weeks into it this time, though, clean as a whistle and past the shakes and vomiting and fevers, but Roman’s voice keeps haunting him.

He hears it now, as he gets ready for bed, trying to get some decent rest. His sobriety has come with a begrudging denial of sleeping medication, something he’d even conceded on when he was sober the last time. It’s hard to rest without it. He’s left lying awake, long after the sun has gone down but before the social hour on the street has subsided, staring up at his ceiling and trying to put all the pieces of his life back together. He’d been welcomed back into the fold easily upon return, kept away from Stewy with a choreographed ease by the people who’ve propped him up through this whole ordeal. Kendall misses him, but knows he can’t bring himself to carry on destroying the family after what they’ve been through, and judging by the slowly declining number of calls and the lack of potent anger from Stewy, he understands. It seems the takeover is still in progress without him, but no one has told him much. He’s been rehired for some meaningless executive assistant job which more or less entails showing up to the office and doing whatever menial task is assigned. It’s his father’s way of keeping him from following Roman to the grave, he thinks.

“You’re fucking useless. You can’t do anything,” Roman tells him.

Kendall has stopped telling him to shut up, and mostly talks to him even though he’s been told by past therapists not to legitimize hallucinations that way. His current one has been very patient through his whole process, even though three sessions a week must be grating on her. It’s the money that keeps her looking after him. He knows that, but it’s easier to pretend that someone must care at least a little bit.

“I know that. I’m trying, though. I’m- I’m clean, and in therapy.”

“And you’re doing so much better,” comes the reply, dripping in sarcasm.

That’s fair, he thinks. He keeps waking up in strange places on the nights he does get to sleep. In the shower, in the kitchen with a knife in hand, on the balcony. There are marks on him sometimes, when he gets dressed in the morning, that he can’t identify the source of. At first they had just been little rashes, a step below hives, that he assumed must be because one of the house staff bought the wrong kind of detergent, but they’ve now graduated to raised red lines like he’s been clawing at himself in his sleep. Things keep moving when he has no memory of doing so himself. It doesn’t make sense, and he doesn’t think he’s missing time. Maybe he’s more fucked up than he thought.

“I’m trying to get my life together. You’re dead, and I- I know that, but I didn’t die with you, alright? I’ve got shit to do. I wish you’d fucking leave me alone.”

“Burn in hell.”

“Isn’t- isn't that what you’re doing?”

A sudden burning sensation fills Kendall’s chest, hot and cold at the same time, getting tighter and tighter until he can barely breathe at all. He draws his knees up to his chest and tucks his head between them, trying to take deep breaths. It’s a panic attack, he thinks, and he’s been told by a million different professionals how to work through them over the years. Once he calms down, he’ll be okay. He just has to breathe. He can do it, except he can’t because it feels like someone’s squeezing his lungs so he can’t fill them with air. He’s drowning. Just like Roman did.

“Burn in hell. Fucking rot. You should’ve died, not me, you piece of fucking shit. I hate you. I hate you!”

Black spots begin to appear across his vision before the pain begins to ease, and he starts to be able to breathe again. The worst of it seems to have passed. He gulps in massive breaths that hurt to take, letting his heart rate slow. He’d kill for some trazodone right now. Instead, he has to settle himself down, and try to go through the grounding exercises he’s been taught. They feel futile, though, and he gives up less than halfway through the first.

He slips out of bed and goes to the kitchen for a cool glass of water, trying to steady his nerves. Healing isn’t linear, everyone keeps telling him, but it feels like he’s stuck no matter how hard he tries. Kendall wants things to be normal, easy, again. While he knows it’s an unreasonable wish, he still wants it. If he’s honest, what he really wants is to be back on top of the world the way he was while his father was sick, running Waystar with Roman as his COO, immature but familiar, Shiv and Connor waiting in the wings as well. Loneliness is not something Kendall has ever coped with well.

Resigned to another sleepless night, he camps out on his couch with a book Connor recommended to him about cryptocurrency. Even a few chapters into it, he still doesn't understand much. It's something to do, though, and he's been advised to try and occupy himself with things other than the business and Roman. Before long, the words smear together, and he falls asleep on his couch.

The next morning's dawn rouses him, confused and bleary-eyed, still on the couch, with his phone alarm screaming on the coffee table. He fumbles to shut the thing up. It's early, just after seven, but that's perfect for him to make sure he attends his appointment at eight. He'll have to tell his therapist about last night's panic attack, an ordeal he dreads despite knowing how important it is to tell her what's going on.

As he goes about his morning routine, he notes the obvious destruction of his home. He doesn't think he did it; he doesn't remember doing so, anyways, and the book had still been open across his chest when he woke up. Most of the art he had hung on his walls is now on the floor, a great deal of the canvases slashed through and torn to shreds. His cabinets are open too, emptied of dishes now shattered on the floor in a mess he has no ability to clean up right now. The maid will take care of it while he's out today, he reasons. It's what he pays her for.

Roman is strangely silent while Kendall gets ready, not saying a word through the whole process, and maintains silence on the drive to his appointment. It should be peaceful, but it simply puts him on edge; if there's silence now, what's waiting on the edge of the moment it breaks? He tries not to worry about it. He's unsuccessful.

This early, the office is mostly deserted, and he's called back almost immediately. His therapist, corporate and family approved with a mountain of non-disclosures piled atop the HIPAA requirements her job requires, sets him at ease with her presence. She's shorter than Shiv is and Roman had been, and refuses to wear heeled shoes to mitigate her height. Her hair had once been brown, but now streaks with white and grey that testify to her years of experience, and combine with her pink cat-eye glasses to make the perfect non-threatening appearance.

"Good morning, Jamie," he says as he sits on her comfortable couch, shedding his blazer and loosening his tie within the safety of the office. "Remind me what it is you like from Starbucks? I keep meaning to tell Jess to have coffee ready for me to bring in."

She gives him a small but tight smile to remind him how many times they've talked about this. "I appreciate the thought, but please don't bring me any coffee, Kendall. How'd you sleep last night?"

"Poorly."

He doesn't elaborate immediately, but his hesitation tells her everything she needs to know. Another panic attack interspersed with Roman's furious words raining down on his ears. He keeps having them. They get worse every time.

"How was the house when you woke up? And your body?"

"It was a mess," he answers. "All the paintings on the wall are fucking ruined. Most of my dishes were broken."

Jamie writes that down. "And any new injuries?"

"I didn't check, but I don't feel any."

She tells him again that he should install cameras in his house to see what he gets up to when he's unconscious, either sleepwalking or dissociated, in hopes of better understanding. He's been reluctant, though, for fear of what he might see. Kendall doesn't want to have to watch himself be violent, imitating his father's behavior in a way he promised himself he never would.

"As if you have that kind of power," Roman laughs. "You're pathetic, Ken."

"I'm not pathetic!"

It takes a beat for him to remember he's not alone. Now Jamie is staring at him. "You're still hearing Roman?"

He nods. He's been on an antipsychotic for almost two weeks, told they'll kick in any day now to treat the current diagnosis of drug-induced schizophrenia. Kendall's been through the list of diagnoses since college. Everything from depression to anxiety to bipolar to borderline and back again, making stops in between, has been added to and subsequently removed from his alleged mental illnesses. Schizophrenia is a new one. He hasn't told anyone, hoping to be a bit more stable before he admits it. The meds were supposed to help.

"Can you tell me what he said?" Jamie asks.

"He said I was pathetic."

She nods sympathetically. This also gets written down. "Do you remember how we talked about the way hallucinations can reflect your own feelings and fears? Why do you think this voice would call you pathetic?"

"I kind of am right now, Jamie."

"I don't think so. You're struggling with mental illness and you're getting treatment for it. That doesn't make you pathetic; if anything, it makes you incredibly resilient."

He huffs. "I don't feel very uh, very resilient."

"That's because you're not. You should've died that night. It should've been you. You're the fuck-up who tried to kill dad. You're the divorced addict who's not even allowed to see his own damn kids."

This time, Kendall tries not to respond to Roman. He really does. He takes a deep breath and digs his bitten nails into his palms, even if he's supposed to try less self-destructive grounding methods. One step at a time. He can get through this.

"Kendall, let's try an exercise, if you're amenable."

"Sure."

She waits for him to reopen his eyes, though he didn't realize he had closed them, and offers a comforting smile that reminds him of maternal kindness he never experienced as a child. One deep breath. A second deep breath. He can do this.

"I want you to repeat after me. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

Once again, she pauses to allow him to collect himself before they continue. Roman doesn't chime in again, but Kendall can feel his presence like a suffocating weight in the room, sucking out all of the air until Kendall's lips turn blue.

"I'm in recovery."

"I'm in recovery," he parrots back.

"Healing is a process."

"It's okay to need time."

"I didn't get time. I deserved it more than you," Roman seethes in Kendall's ear.

He flinches and Jamie sees, as she always does, taking a beat to let him catch his breath.

"Roman isn't real."

"R- Roman isn't- isn't-"

Before Kendall can finish the sentence, the lights turn off suddenly, accompanied by the jarring sensation he’s being shaken around inside a baby’s rattle. The glass frames of diplomas, certificates, awards, and photos on the walls shatter simultaneously, raining glittery shards of glass across the floor, thankfully none of it reaching either of them. As if it’s not frightening enough, a sound like a scream begins to ring in his ears. It’s not a human scream, but it’s not quite animal either- it’s angry and pained and terrifying and it’s making every blood cell in his body tremble, like the scream is at the perfect frequency to turn his very being into little more than a conduit for this awful energy. He covers his ears but it does nothing to quiet the noise.

A sting erupts across his face like he’s been slapped, a sensation that prior to this has only been caused by the angry slaps of scorned ex-girlfriends who want him to know how much they despise him for whatever perceived wrong he inflicted upon them. He cries out and cups his cheek.

Only then does the chaos seem to subside. The lights don't turn back on, which Kendall realizes is due to the light bulbs having shattered as well, but a cold silence washes over the room. He looks up at Jamie for reassurance that this happened and he couldn't have possibly imagined it.

"Kendall- I don't- I-"

"I'm real," Roman asserts. "I'm real. Can you hear me now, cunt? Both of you?"

"Kendall," Jamie says.

Her voice has gone higher and shaky, eyes watering. He doesn’t know how to help her, especially not when he’s in dire need of it himself. The office is in disarray, and within moments, the receptionist and who he thinks may be another therapist. He knows what they’re seeing when they look at the destruction- what they think of him.

“I- I have to go,” he says, a suddenly familiar phrase. “I have to go. I- I-”

“Kendall,” Jamie says again. “Listen to me. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’ll figure this out, okay? Was that Roman?”

The receptionist bites the inside of her cheek. “Jamie, do you want a 5150?”

“No. No, he’s not a danger to anyone,” Jamie corrects quickly. “I’m not sure what happened myself. An earthquake, maybe? I- I- Kendall, please, sit down.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I- I- m- Jess will uh, Jess will- she’ll send- for the damages- just-”

Kendall can’t seem to get the words out, but at least his feet carry him out the door and as far away as he can get.

#kendall roy #roman roy #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #emwrite #wtw!fic

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skelanonymous · 3 years

Text

Song Prompt 2

I basically took this as “think on your mistakes, go forward, it’ll be okay”

@a-weird-tree

Words:4.2k

Song(s): It’s Alright - Mother Mother/Panic Room - Au/ra

Skeleton: Nightmare

“I’m here if you need me.”

Nightmare wished the last words he’d heard didn’t have to be from Dream, even if it made a lot of poetic sense considering the task he was on.

The ashen landscape hadn’t changed in the millenia he’d been gone. Nothing different from the day he left, only a statue no longer standing by her side, even the grass dead and non-growing. Time had left this place, following his brother in its frozen state, though the life of this place hadn’t been returned like it had to Dream.

So many bodies. The lack of time had halted the rot, blood stained dirt muddy and thick near his sneakers. The gentle pull from his soul made him sigh before standing up straight to walk into the mass of buildings off east of the hill.

Walking over the uneven cobblestone (made by hand by an older stonesmith who’d been teaching his son at the time), his eye slid over the multiple empty homes. Shops with goods still lining the shelves, broken glass shattered across the wooden floorboards, countertops in disarray from the frantic fleeing they’d attempted, it fell on his chest like an anvil, breath stolen. He pushed past it to step around behind the counter.

He’d only needed to browse for a moment before finding what he was looking for. He grabbed it with his hands, gathering some provisions in a bag before heading back out to his new home.

From the top of the hill, the field expanded westward for a mile uninterrupted. That’s where he’d have to start.

With a blank face, he forced the shovel into the dirt and hauled out the first of many piles. He couldn’t do a full six feet with his hands, but three would give them rest. No animal could dig them out, all had long since gone, so that’d have to be enough.

The shovel was clumsy in his grasp. His hands ached with the work of it before even the first grave had been dug, not used to ignoring his tentacles, where his strength and power were most potent, but no. They had been laid low by his corruption. If he was to find any sense of recompense in the act, it had to be his own two hands by which he sent them to peace.

Shovelful by shovelful, the dirt to the side grew larger than the hole until the first was done.

The first was going to be the hardest to get here.

When the idea had first occurred, it’d been before the truce. He had too much to do, his own corruption as valuable an ally in his fight as any of the others, perhaps moreso. Too much was left to fight for that required its defense.

He had brushed the idea aside completely until the truce had been first drafted. But the truce was fresh, easily broken with a word. Animosity did not dissolve within a fortnight, nor did camaraderie grow, even under the promise of fresh sunlight and clean water. He couldn’t send his best soldier home when war could break out at any second. As weary as it made him, he had carried this longer than he had existed at this point, five times more spent in this shadow than under the shade of his mother. The memories were faded and grey at the edges. He could live without them.

Days to weeks, months to years, all of his company had learned to move on. He’d held none back from their progress. The peace in their eyes made his own ache, but he wished them the best. The last had been Dust, his the hardest to truly relieve. Time truly could heal all wounds.

“I think I’m gunna go to Horror’s timeline...Now that’s the shortage is over, it’s pretty quiet there.” Dust had shuffled in the main hall. He looked so uncomfortable, Nightmare trying to pull his own aura back into himself.

“And Horror is there.” Nightmare took a step back, gesturing to the door with a kind bow. “You’ll do well with him. You suit each other.”

Dust blushed purple, eyelights flicking around, before resettling on Nightmare with sorrow in the lines of his face.

“You could come too.” He looked him in the face, desperate. “Being alone isn’t good for people bo-Nightmare.” Dust fiddled with his sleeves.

“I would impede your progress Dust. My part in your life has come to a conclusion, and I am at peace with that.” Nightmare hoped the smile was reassuring. Dust had fought against the psychosis, no sanity came as hard fought as Dust’s, he deserved the rest. “I have always survived, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“They ask me about you all the time, you know.” He inched closer to the door. A compromise.

“And I ask you about them. We spent a long time together.” Nightmare hadn’t seen any of them since they left the castle. He knew his aura was poison to their progress, an ever present reminder of all they tried to move forward from. He missed them more than he could say. “But even now, you can’t help but call me boss. You have fewer nightmares when you sleep in other timelines. You can’t be here, and I can’t go there with you.”

“We would give up all our progress if it meant seeing you not stay here alone for the rest of your life.” Dust’s eyes watered. “We all wanted you to make it out of here. Being the last means that I failed too.”

“You didn’t fail.” Night wanted so badly to reassure him, but he was negativity, his touch would rob the little strength he had to leave. “I don’t know if I can be saved.” The truth hurt to say. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. How does one unlearn all that you are?”

“You don’t have enough faith in yourself. Please.” Dust had held out his hand, the other on the door.

Nightmare knew if he reached out, Dust would turn to him and try to save him from himself. But no. Night pulled his hands to his chest.

“Go. He’s waiting for you.” Dust had left with a slammed door.

Then silence.

Silence for months, nothing but dust and books for friends. He’d kept to his castle, afraid of even glancing at them from portals, of bringing as much misfortune as he had to wherever he touched.

The idea had come back to him on the anniversary of Dust’s departure. He’d sent out a small summon to his brother, who’d come the instant he’d been called, fearing the worst.

“Brother?!”

“I’m right here Dream. I’m not in peril.” He looked up from his book, seated on a bench. Nightmare took to reading in the courtyard most days. He’d gotten through every book once before, this was one of his favorites to reread. “Though I’m thankful for your haste if I was.”

“I mean, yeah! No one’s heard from you in a while. I was starting to think…”Dream shook his head. “So what do you need? Anything I can do to help.” He held out his golden glove to Night. He had taken it so hesitantly, his brother the only person who he couldn’t affect but unused to contact after so long.

“I have things to show you.”

He’d brought him through the castle. He led him to every magical artifact, the secret chambers that hid anything placed within them, and a copy of the key to his treasured library. His entire legacy, every tool, things that could not be replaced.

“I think that’s everything. I’m entrusting this knowledge to you Dream. It felt important you know. The others deserve to not be called upon.”

“I agree but why would I need to call them? It’s your castle. I can just ask you.” Dream looked him over with worried eyes. “Right?” Nightmare sighed.

“No.” He held up a hand before Dream could yell. “I am going to be away from the castle. I do not know for how long.”

“Doing what?! Because telling me about ALL of this means this is a long trip!” Night could see all of Blue’s influence in him, almost professionally assessing him to see what they could work through. He was eternally grateful to Blue for his services but not for the inquisition he’d face for this decision.

“It most likely will be very long.” Nightmare didn’t elaborate.

“What are you planning?” Dream grabbed his shoulders, full brotherly concern on display. Night smiled at him. Dream panicked harder. “Nightmare, please don’t do anything drastic. Everyone really cares about you.” Night chuckled but it didn’t reach his tired eyes.

“Unfortunately, drastic is the only way I know.” He flicked Dream on his crown, nose scrunched up with the twang. “I don’t plan on dying in some corner of the world. I’m not a wounded animal.” Nightmare held the trembling hands in front of him. “I just need to go find something.”

“Well let’s go look toge-”

“Alone.”

“Nightmare.” He pleaded with his eyes. “You’ve been alone for so long already. Who was the last person you saw besides me?”

“Dust.” He didn’t shy away from the shock.

“That was a YEAR ago.” Dream pulled him towards the nearest door. “You just need to-”

“Dream.” He’d never felt so tired. It’d been many moons since he’d pulled this card, he only hoped his brother would understand. “Daydream, please.”

The fight drained from Dream in an instant. His eyes softened to tears, so much younger in that moment than Nightmare had seen since he’d awoken from that statue. Nightmare wiped a few away, meeting his eyes with renewed effort, resigned but ready.

“I need this. You’re the only one I can trust with the multiverse. I need you to carry it for both of us. I’m sorry to set it upon your shoulders.”

And Dream, the kind person he was, didn’t hesitate.

“I can handle it Nighty.” He pulled him into a hug. “So you keep looking until you find what you need to. I’ve got stuff handled here, and plenty of help if I get a little overwhelmed. Just...come back.” He’d waved Nightmare off into his portal with a smile.

“I’m here if you need me.”

The first body was the last. She’d been young, the last child, protected at the expense of the adults around her at every turn. He couldn’t even recall her name now. He found her in the forest, picking up her broken body as carefully as he feasibly could using only his arms. He started the sad march towards the hole.

He laid her in the earth with dignity. He cleaned off her face, finding a dropped toy nearby that felt familiar when he saw it, which he tucked into her arms.

Nightmare reflected on her death.

“The last of those bastards. Any last words?!” She’d only screamed. He cut her down painfully, multiple stabs with sharpened corruption, watching her bleed out to satisfy his own need for vengeance, served a hundred times over before this last death. His body fought his revulsion but he let the feeling flow. He’d been despicable.

A flash of memory from that night. It was gone before he could catch it.

He waited another few moments before taking up the shovel again. He covered her as quietly as he’d dug the grave, slow painful work on his hands that he trudged forward through. After the last bit of dirt had settled, he found a stone and placed it at the head.

Then he walked to the right and started again.

Nightmare managed three graves by the time he could not continue. He’d gotten the two people he’d felled just before the girl. He grieved each, laying them to rest, stumbling and pained, but he wanted to do this the right way.

When he could no longer continue, he pulled an apple from the provisions he’d grabbed.

He put it back.

Nightmare made his home by the tree, laying by her stump. He’d spent so many nights here, but the stars didn’t jog his memory at all. Nothing remained of before, none of what mattered to him. His mother was dead, Dream off running the multiverse, he himself changed, what could he even recognize?

He didn’t recall drifting off, though the nightmares that played across his mind meant he had to have slept.

Night grabbed a bit of bread, looked up at the unchanging sky, and got to work again.

For weeks, the same pattern: wake, eat, lay the villagers to rest, consider the apple, sleep restlessly. Night’s corruption claimed his mind first, and many lives after. He owed them all the proper burial they’d been denied for centuries now.

Each dream got more vivid. The first taste of corruption, the first few to fall, turning Dream to stone, it got clearer each day. It wasn’t doing wonders to his sanity. Part of him wondered if this was the best chance of recovery, or of losing it completely and killing either the multiverse or himself. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he’d walk to the river in the forest.

The sound of running water was louder than his thoughts in the silence of the universe. He walked along it with his hands in his pockets and would imagine the castle.

Who accompanied him changed each day. Killer smiled but often made jokes at his expense or that of the dead. Dust’s hallucination acted as his own, egging him on to find more to kill. Horror’s mentioned the feast lying around, endlessly held edible by the lack of passing time.

Error only visited once, his silence drowning out the brook. Nightmare left early and didn’t finish a single grave.

On a particularly productive day (he’d gotten through five), Dream accompanied him, and that’s when he remembered something from long ago. His voice complained, but he still knew the words.

The old folk song travelled across the world. The villagers had taught them at first, but Nightmare had sung Dream to sleep so much, he looked into so many more songs. He serenaded his phantom Dream from his small walk and slept peacefully for a single night.

The next day, his voice acted on its own.

He hummed while digging. He sang to the dead as he moved them, as an eulogy after their entombment, and went back to humming when he filled them and moved to the next. The silence of the world invited many demons, the lilt of a song brought back warmth of the past he’d long since lost. He remembered telling the others he didn’t sing; whether it was a lie or he truly forgot, he didn’t know.

The amount of graves was starting to stretch out far from the tree stump. He’d been at this for months, and now, the dead left numbered in double digits.

As he reached the last thirty, he leaned back onto the tall stump and realized nothing had blocked him. His unused tentacles had unformed, not needed and no longer reflex. Night breathed a sigh of relief up at the steady sky. Maybe he had a chance after all.

That night, when he considered the apple, he managed to put it up to his mouth. Not bite into, but it was progress, like so much else.

The second to last day ended as usual at first. He’d begun to sing songs he’d heard in other universes, voice strong from use. His hands had gotten so much better at holding the metal handle. His arms had regained strength, and bit by bit, the color was finally starting to leak back into the sky. This universe was healing. It had waited for him to return.

He only had one grave left. The village elder, the first to fall, the leader of the attacks against him. Night had never known his name besides Elder.

His vengeance should’ve started and ended with him.

No, that wasn’t the way to think anymore. Night had become what they feared, even if it was at their insistence, and a restless afterlife and the death of all his kin falling on him was punishment enough. He dug into the earth, humming the village tune, when the phantom heckled from behind.

“How dare you sing our song when you forsook us, monster.” Nightmare didn’t rise to the bait. He was not so lost as to not know reality from his own manifestations of guilt.

“Your brother was always the better one. I bet you killed him too.” Purposefully wrong, trying to pull him into this argument, he kept digging. Nightmare knew better than he did then. Young Nightmare had risen to many challenges he needn't be bothered with, but age brings wisdom, his past self having no ability to act out of the script he’d been forced to follow. He finished the grave with a wipe of his forehead.

“What do you think this does? Do you think this makes up for what you took? Our lives are not returned with this worthless ceremony.”

“Nothing will make up for what I took. I can only hope to be better going forward and to give back all that I am able.” Nightmare moved the body, staring directly at the ground, avoiding the phantom’s glares. “This place can move forward, and maybe then I can begin to.”

“As long as you are a monster, your mind will never leave this place, beast.”

“On that, we agree.” Nightmare bowed to his grave before beginning to fill it, the final task of his penance here. “But it can’t be killed easily.” The elder’s phantom considered him, before speaking carefully.

“Things borne of ourselves are the hardest to kill. We often choose to remove outside influences over those within.” Nightmare was struck with the memory of attending the elder’s many sermons. He had been a teacher as well, often giving lessons to the population for free. “But I can see its vice grip on you has loosened. What have you brought to kill it?”

“Nothing but myself and an apple.”

“Then I pray it is enough.” Nightmare finished the grave, dropping the shovel down for the last time.

“Me too.”

The final headstone set down, he turned towards the tree stump.

Nightmare did nothing in half measures. He’d come prepared to die here if he needed to. So much of the night of the corruption was lost to the sludge, memory melted away by the power, only the spark of his brother’s positivity clear as a direct opposition to his own. But this corruption was magic, and all magic had a counter, an equal and opposite. Much of spellcraft found counters in the reverse, but how does one reverse something as horrifying as that night?

It was crude, but he tried. Night had said goodbye to Dream. He buried the villagers in reverse of the order he’d killed them. Now, he reached into the bag.

One crisp apple. It only took one to be lost.

He took it with trembling hands. It was so easy to raise to his teeth, almost calling for him to bite into the succulent skin. He closed his eye and bit down.

The corruption was acrid in his mouth. It tasted of the poison it was, but its darker temptation of power had made him bite into it again, and again, and again, until nothing remained. Anything to stop the judgement, the finger pointing, the thrown rocks, never having a place except by Dream’s side, and Dream had so many places he could fit effortlessly.

His eye flicked up to his brother, standing just under the tree, full of now blackened apples, his mouth full of the sludge he’d become, a pang of sadness at the horror on Dream’s face.

“Remember me as I was.” Then he’d grabbed the second. By the sixth, the tentacles had come alive on his back, ready to maim that which came to attack, but when he turned around, he was back in the dead world alone. His mind still pulsed with the event as if he’d lived it only a moment ago, and he couldn’t waste this opportunity.

“RAHHHHHH!” His vision blurred on the grass, tentacles furious digging a hole where no bodies lay. His body felt full, stuffed with corruption like a balloon, singeing his nerves from everything that ran black, pouring from his face directly into the hole that now was the right size. With a moment of clarity, he shoved his fingers down his throat.

He wretched endlessly, thick black corruption pouring out of him in heaves, unable to catch his breath while it left his body. It pooled and filled the hole. So much corruption, in such excess of all the magic in Nightmare’s body, his arms shook trying to hold him up. His soul burned raw, so much being torn from his entire being that it threatened to destabilize. He collapsed on his side, still spewing the poison until he passed out, unable to continue.

He came to gasping. His hands leapt to his throat instantly to soothe the burn. It stung, but looking forward, there was no liquid in the hole he’d collapsed beside, though what was inside was worse.

One black apple, unassuming in the otherwise empty hole. Night almost didn’t touch it.

When he reached for it, his eyes caught his hand. Pure ivory, matching the ivory arm, visible with both of his eyes.

He was free.

That aided his hand. He grabbed the apple, unafraid. Nightmare would not make the same mistake twice.

A glance around revealed more color than he’d remember seeing in ages. Flecks of green among the grass, the sky bright with a sun he hadn’t seen in eons, and a breeze of wind from time returning after so long gone. The world freed from stone could move forward, and now so could he.

His first order of business was clothes, his own ruined many times over by now. His corruption had held the poor things together, but sleeping on rocks hadn’t been kind to the soft hoodie.

Picking through the village felt less somber now. These items would wear away with time, and he could use them. He grabbed some boots, loose pants, a purple tunic, and a worn leather bag to wear over his shoulder. Inside, a few provisions, the black apple, and a few books for his collection amongst the village, he had refused to set foot here before now.

Where to go now? He was free from his corruption, but not from himself. Nightmare himself was still an entire project he’d have to work at.

Though with his corruption lifted, it felt invigorating to have a fate of his own again.

First order of business was probably Dream. He’d left him alone for a long time, though the strange flow of time had made him lose track of exactly how much. He pulled on his magic to generate a portal.

“Fuck!” He’d reset himself back to the start. Of course he had little to work with. He’d have to ask Dream for a lift home when he got there. After a quick straightening of his back, he stepped through to wherever Dream was. He’d pulled on their connection to form the portal instead of picking a place. He walked down some sort of hallway he didn’t recognize, reaching the end of it to turn towards the noise.

Lots of eyes on him, he’d walked into a party. Probably Blue’s based on the amount and varying universes of the guests. He waved awkwardly.

“Um, hi.” He heard something shatter.

“Nightmare?” From the crowd, his brother squeezed out, bolting straight for him. Nightmare held his arms open and braced for impact.

“Yes Dream.” He managed to stay standing at his brother’s hug, but only just. He squeezed him hard enough to crack his back. “Be careful, you’re the more powerful one now.”

“I don’t care about that!” He clung to him and sobbed openly, which was really soaking up Night’s tunic, but he owed him this, rubbing his back through the tears. “I was so w-worrieeeeeed!”

“Well now you can stop worrying.” Nightmare chuckled at his over emotional brother. Then he felt the hand on his back.

“Is that really you boss?” Horror’s deep baritone reverberated down through his hand, shaking Night’s more fragile form. He mentally forgave Dream’s reaction when he turned to look at him. His hand rose to rest on Horror’s cheek, tracing under his chin to get a good look at him as he used to. His own eyes watered for the first time in decades.

“You look so well Horror. I’m...so happy...to see you.” He cried through it, holding him tight to feel the now sturdy bones underneath. He missed his boys so much. He didn’t even flinch at the sudden touch to his back, hearing Dust’s soft murmurs.

“We’re happy to see you too Nightmare.”

His soul, full of this feeling of reunion and relief, let loose tension it no longer had to hold. The future held much trial and tribulation, but it held equal amounts of moments like this, bonding and joy over simple celebrations.

Nothing but his own future.

#nightmare sans #story time #dreamtale #I decided to do a nightmare centric piece because I am a nepotist

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feralnumberfive · 3 years

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TUA Season 3 Wishlist

Hello everyone! Since Season 3 was announced to start filming in February of 2021, I thought that it would be fun to make a wishlist of songs that anyone would like to see in the new season. I'm quite passionate about music and often think of songs that I personally believe would fit the show well. I know a lot of others do this too and thought that it would be fun to share our beloved songs with the fandom!

Guidelines/Information

You may submit as many songs as you want!

You may submit them to my ask box or send me a message (I don’t bite!)

You may request not to have your username by your song(s) but if not I your username will be attached to your song(s). | Ex. “Help!” by The Beatles @feralnumberfive OR “Help!” by The Beatles “Anonymous”

The songs don’t have to be by the original artist. If you’re submitting a special version or cover of the song, please specify that

Feel free to attach scenarios for your song(s)! They can be as brief or as detailed as you want them to be, but please try to keep it to one paragraph or less for your explanation | Ex. “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance ((Scenario: Five killing tons of enemies. He’s gone mad with anger and glee. The horror of those being slaughtered, seemingly by a teenager)) |

Some lyrics really hit hard, y’know? Similar to the scenario guideline, feel free to submit a song and lyrics from that song that you think would match a character/specific scenario | Ex. “Evil Woman” by Electric Light Orchestra (I think the lyrics, Evil woman how you done me wrong, but now you’re tryin’ to wail a different song, would match Diego’s mixed feelings on Lila if she returns in S3)

It’s not required that you have a scenario/lyrics with your submitted song(s), so no pressure! Some songs just give off good vibes that fit with the atmosphere of the show. You can even submit songs and simply say (This gives off “Character name” vibes)

You can even just name a band! Some bands have tons of bangers that just match the vibes of TUA or of a TUA character

The scenarios don’t have to be serious, they can be odd or fun!

If a song is requested more than once, I will add the amount of times it was requested in parenthesis next to it

If you see a song on the list that you really like, you can send (+1 for “insert song title here”) and I will add a tally to it

If you see a song on here that does or does not have scenario/lyric(s) and you think “Oh yeah I can imagine a scenario/lyric(s) for this!” go ahead and speak up! If requested, I will add your username to the scenario you created. If you’re not comfortable with having your username next to your scenario, I will simply put you as “Anonymous.” Same thing with the username and “Anonymous” if you want to tack on that a song gives “Character name” vibes | Ex. Song by Artist “username of person who submitted it” (Scenario: blah blah blah) || (Scenario: blah blah blah) by “username” || (Scenario: blah blah blah) by “Anonymous” || (Lyrics: blah blah blah) by “Anonymous” || (This song gives of “Character name” vibes) by “username” |

This will be open until the Season 3 Soundtrack is released (It will be fun to see if any of the songs in this wishlist are actually on the official S3 soundtrack!)

The guidelines will be updated as the wishlist progresses. Most of the time I won’t reply to the song requests sent through my ask box, but I certainly will add your requested song(s) to the list. If you see that I haven’t added your song(s) after updating the wishlist, please reach out to me. Don’t be afraid to ask me any questions!

Here’s the Playlist created from the Wishlist

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QRajb4Nap3hjjs2KcWQYc

Wishlist

Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! by ABBA @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five rescuing his siblings))

Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles @feralnumberfive ((This song gives off Vanya vibes))

Rich Kids by New Medicine @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: The Hargreeves arrive in 2019 to find that they have been replaced. The Sparrow Academy quickly springs into action and attacks The Umbrella Academy))

Lonely by Palaye Royale @feralnumberfive ((Lyrics: | So sick and tired of being alone, so long, farewell, I’m on my own | I feel like these lyrics represent Klaus feeling alone due to his siblings ignoring him and him being a living person haunted by ghosts)) by @feralnumberfive

Toxic by Britney Spears “Anonymous” ((Scenario: When they are all talking about Reggie))

girls by girl in red “Anonymous” ((Scenario: When Vanya is talking/thinking about Sissy))

WAP by Cardi B “Anonymous”

Manic Monday by The Bangles “Anonymous” ((Because 4/1/2019 and 11/25/1963 were both Mondays, so the s3 apocalypse should be too))

Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington Jr. @feralnumberfive

Teenagers by My Chemical Romance @feralnumberfive | but really everyone in the UA fandom wants this | ((Scenario: Any fight scene with Five going ham))

Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears For Fears @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Something sad))

Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: The siblings get into deepshit™ and have to fight their way out of it))

Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Evil/Sparrow Five returns back to his family or Five struggles with his killer urges and impulses from his killer DNA))

Bit by Bit by Mother Mother @feralnumberfive

Lay Me Down by The Oh Hellos “Anonymous” ((Lyrics perfectly fit Five: “Fire and brimstone fell upon my ears, as their throats of open graves recited fear, like the bullets of a gun they drove my tears, and my feet to run the hell out of here”//“I was born a restless wayward child”//“I owe it to my brothers to carry them home”))

Vampire Money by My Chemical Romance "Anonymous" ((Gives off Klaus vibes))

Arms Tonite by Mother Mother @burnyouwithacigarettelighter ((Lyrics: | I died in your arms tonight, I slipped through into the afterlife, | Would totally fit anything to do with Ben’s death))

Oh Ana by Mother Mother @burnyouwithacigarettelighter ((Scenario: Any scene with Five just generally being a badass and/or the rest of the siblings!!))

Black Sheep by Metric “Anonymous” ((Lyrics | Our common goal was waiting for the world to end, now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend you crack the whip, shapeshift and trick, the past again, | Which is SO five and anything about the commission or the apocalypse OR | I’ll send you my love on the wire, lift you up every time, everyone pulls away, from you,” | For luther/the siblings perspective on him.))

Everybody’s Gotta Live by Love @feralnumberfive ((Gives off Five vibes and also a bit of the siblings in general))

I’m Gonna Win by Rob Cantor @feralnumberfive ((All of the lyrics match Five so well))

Running In The 90's by Max Coveri/Maurizio De Jorio @latinofireball ((Scenario: For an Umbrella and/or Sparrow family dance))

The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance @fandoms-or-life ((Scenario: Group fight))

Hayloft by Mother Mother @bi-ginny-weasley ((Gives off Five vibes and would be great in a fight sequence))

bad idea! by girl in red @pr-ingles

Silver Lake Queen by Diplomacy @purplegrapefruit ((Scenario: Any woman-being-badass moment, bonus if it's all the girls and Klaus))

Blackbird by The Beatles (accidentally replied without getting your name, sorry about that feel free to reach out to me again :[ ) ((Scenario: I am really intrigued by the Sparrow in the comics who could turn into a flock of crows. I think Blackbird could be a good song for her. Especially since its about the yearning to be free which I think will come to pass with at least some of the Sparrow Academy members. It could be played in a moment when she is considering how trapped she and her team/siblings are under Reginald))

Cold Cold Cold by Cage The Elephant “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Maybe for a fight scene or the end of an episode when everything has gone tits up))

Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood @b99detectivealpaca ((Scenario: Anything related to Reginald))

Footloose by Kenny Loggins “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Dance scene that will inevitably happen))

Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Also for the dance scene that will inevitably happen))

Rät by Penelope Scott @sukker-sugar ((Scenario: Sth related to reggie, and specifically with the lyrics | Experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good | They taught me everything just like a daddy should |))

Time Warp (Cover from CAOS Soundtrack) by Ross Lynch, Jaz Sinclair, Lachlan Watson, and Jonathan Whitesell @theladyfae ((Scenario: A random scene in a club where everyone's dancing to it but then it cuts to the siblings fighting against multiple enemies))

Waiting For The World To End by Mother Mother @feralnumberfive ((Gives off Five vibes and the lyrics match him so well))

1983 by Neon Trees "Anonymous" ((Just gives off Season 3 vibes))

Skyfall by Adele @fudgemutt ((Scenario: For when the whole Umbrella family comes together and works as one, and specifically the lyrics | Let the sky fall, When it crumbles, We will stand tall, Face it all together, At Skyfall | ))

Dirty by Grandson @fudgemutt ((Scenario: An epic Five fight scene, and specifically the lyrics | Do you have enough love in your heart, to go and get your hands dirty? | ))

The Day Before You Came by ABBA "Anonymous"

Tiger by Abba @notmireelname

Tropical Loveland by ABBA @notmireelname

Twisted by Missio @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Give loses his goddamn mind))

Heart Of Glass (Cover by Miley Cyrus) originally by Blondie @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five losing his mind and thinking about his family or something to do with Klaus cause it gives off Klaus vibes))

Without Me by Alec Chambers “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Five finally snaps at his family after they continuously blame him for their problems))

Something’s Gotta Give by All Time Low @enjoltairesimp ((Scenario: A badass fight scene, preferably one that includes Diego))

Any songs created by Mother Mother (not a song, just a statement) @enjoltairesimp because it would be amazing

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds by The Beatles @enjoltairesimp ((Scenario: A reunion scene with Klaus and Dave))

Music Of The Night by Andrew Lloyd Webber (either version from the Musical or Movie) @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five either turning to the dark side or being convinced to do something "bad"))

A Good Song Never Dies by Saint Motel @life-needs-abit-of-madness ((Vibe of the song is so good))

Hotel California by Eagles Everyone in the UA fandom ((What else do we need to say? S3 will match Vol. 3 Hotel Oblivion of the comics. It's an absolute killer bop that needs to be in S3))

Cold Cold Man by Saint Motel @life-needs-abit-of-madness

La Jolla by Wilbur Soot @sukker-sugar ((Scenario: Either someone dies (but like klaus in s1, they get resurrected) and we see this in the background while they talk to god, or we see the siblings lounging around and talking about what they'd do after the shenanigans™ are over with that in the background ))

When I'm Sixty Four by The Beatles @feralnumberfive ((Something with Five))

Just A Girl by No Doubt @feralnumberfive ((A badass scene of any girl character fighting//bonus if it's Allison or Vanya since they're the only two girls in the Umbrellas))

You're The Devil In Disguise by Elvis Presley @life-needs-abit-of-madness ((Scenario: A fight scene))

You Don't Own Me by SAYGRACE @give-the-boy-a-hug ((Scenario: Someone's walking away after a fight))

Ballroom Blitz by Sweet @feralnumberfive ((This would be soooo good for a fight scene with dancing or a fight scene in general))

Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In! By Will Wood and the Tapeworms @feralnumberfive ((Would be awesome for a fight scene))

My Generation by The Who @feralnumberfive ((Another fun song for a fight scene))

Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John @feralnumberfive ((Either the siblings' or just Luther's feelings towards Reginald))

You’re The Best by Joe Esposito @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Either Luther, Diego, or even the whole family having some sort of montage of overcoming their issues))

Rumor Has It - Adele @alex-mercerss ((because what better song for Allison to have playing for it, plus I’ve seen it mentioned a few times somewhere))

Show Me How to Move - The Elwins @alex-mercerss ((this is such a fight scene song no matter where you put it))

Really anything off of Let Live and Let Ghosts by Jukebox the Ghost @alex-mercerss ((half of this album was literally written about the apocalypse))

2econd 2ight 2eer by Will Wood and the Tapeworms @feralnumberfive ((Could absolutely imagine Five losing control and killing to this song))

As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese “Anonymous” (( I think it would be good where five is having a flash back to the apocalypse or he sees his family die but he cant do anything bc the cube is making his fear come out therefore it is just a hallucination))

I Heard A Rumor by Bananarama @uuhhhhwhat ((Scenario: A scene where Allison is sad and thinking about Ray and/or Claire))

There's a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought of It Yet by Panic! At The Disco "Anonymous" ((Scenario: A Five fight scene))

Are You Satisfied by MARINA "Anonymous" ((could work for anything Luther related because the lyrics describe him so well))

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua s3 #tua s3 soundtrack wishlist #music #tua music #tua soundtrack

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