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ready-to-obeyme · 4 years

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[OM!] Compliments from the Demon Brothers + Undateables

[Non-Appearance Related Compliments]

I used these quotes and paired them up with a character to write a short snippet/HC. I hope you like them!! these types of compliments always make me warm :))

“You light up the room.”

Simeon

It’s strange to think that seeing you walk through the door would make him so happy. He knows he’s written plenty of adventures and romances, but to think he’d be able to live through one is something else entirely.

When Simeon laughs, you turn toward him in slight confusion and walk to him when he beckons you. “I almost forgot there was no sun in the Devildom for a moment,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You light up the room.” he says teasingly, enjoying the flustered expression on your face. “Did you know that?”

You’re more than just a pure soul-- full of conviction, bursting with love and a strength that you don’t even know you possess-- and Simeon feels lucky to be able to hold you in his arms like so.

“You have the best laugh.”

Mammon

“You have the best laugh,” Mammon tells you, laying his head on his arms as he watches you throw your head back after retelling a funny story. It’s not something that he’s thought through in saying-- it just came out because it was the simple truth. How many times has he thought before about how lucky he was to be able to have you in his life, giving him the best time of his life, full of laughter and love. He’s always thought your laugh was cute-- and if it wasn’t cute it was contagious, and he loves every laugh that he can coax from you.

He wants to be able to make you laugh like that for the rest of your life together.

Of course, after saying it, he’s immediately embarrassed, but you cajole him into removing his hands from his face so you can bury him in kisses instead.

“You inspire me.”

Diavolo

Diavolo has met and seen more people of all kinds as the stars in the sky, and yet the one he is most mesmerized by is you. Life has not always treated you kindly, and he admits that whisking you away to the Devildom to attend his exchange program without warning played a part in it. Regardless of what happened, you always manage to make the best of it all, creating close relationships with the brothers, with the angels, and even with him. You are but one human, and yet you seem to be the strongest person he’s ever met.

“You inspire me,” he says warmly as the two of you enjoy drinks together in a rare quiet moment of the ball. “Truly!” He tells you, laughing when you look at him incredulously. “It might sound strange, but you have many traits to be admired. Many more, I believe, if I continue to get to know you better.” He smiles at you even while you flush. “I hope you’ll allow me that opportunity during your stay in the Devildom.”

“I love how passionate you are.”

Satan

It’s no surprise that Satan would value the mind out of all the brothers. There is something inherently breathtaking to see you speak with such fervor about the things you care about. The topics in which you talk about ranges, but even when you talk about something from defending the rights of the lower-class to how there shouldn’t be uniforms for RAD, he feels himself fall a little more of you every time-- with your mind full of ideas and words that seem to overflow.

“I love how passionate you are,” he says almost breathlessly. “No, I mean it!” He tells you, chuckling when you give him a strange look. “I’m not... being sarcastic or anything. I truly, truly love the way your mind works, and I like hearing about the things you care about.” His eyes twinkle, and the way he sits up straight, attentive, and hands folded in front of him and eagerly listening to you makes your heart skip. “Keep going,” he says. “What else did you think about it?”

“You make the world better just by being in it.”

Barbatos

“Why do you look so surprised?” He would ask you, chuckling as he watches you gape at him with a flushed face after his spoken compliment. “Is it that much of a surprise to hear me say that?”

These words coming from Barbatos means so much more than you could possibly imagine. How many timelines has he seen? How many worlds has he merged and destroyed with his powers? He isn’t one to mince his words, and yet to hear him say that you make the world better just by being in it is something that holds meaning. And it does-- he’s seen the things you’ve done, the good you put into the world just by being: the small smiles you give those who are down, the kindness in which you treat others, and most importantly, the way you love him and make him feel.

Barbatos truly means what he says, and you have no choice but to accept that as truth.

“You make me feel comfortable being myself.”

Beelzebub

Beel has always thought it a little strange that whenever you’re around, his voracious appetite quiets down to something as little as a stir that, if he’s talking to you, almost disappears completely from his mind. He’s convinced that perhaps it’s best that he likes spending so much time with you, because he may as well spend all his time with you if it meant he could stop eating so much-- or so he thought. But you never fail to sneak him a snack during class, suddenly when you walk together to town, or after waiting for him after club. Beel knows his appetite is something monstrous, but you never seem to mind. You tell him you love him anyways,

He finds that this thought is enough to quell his hunger completely, even for a moment.

“You make me feel comfortable being myself,” Beel tells you when you settle next to him for a movie, snacks in hand. “I never feel like I have to change or hold myself back so...” He smiles at you warmly, holding your hand in his. “Thank you.”

Leviathan

Levi used to lose to you in Mario Kart only once every five games, but he watches you speed past him, cackling at his side, and realizes that he’s coming closer to loving once every three. Yet, seeing you laugh, shoulders touching as you lean against him, he can’t find it in himself to mind at all.

Laughter has never come as easily to him. Words and affection have never come so easily to him before now. It feels so natural being by your side that he supposed he forgot he’s ever been alone.

“You make me feel comfortable being myself,” he tells you one day, just as he finishes talking about another anime that has him excited. He’s flustered, but he feels the need to tell you how you make him feel, and how much he’s grateful for the fact he feels heard and truly seen. “I hope you feel the same with me too.”

“You make this world so much more beautiful just by being in it.”

Lucifer

Lucifer doesn’t think he would have been able to lie in his own bed as often with you convincing him to join you. Or go enjoy the carnival rides with you there. Or see the colors of the lanterns as vividly or think the view as charming without you. And he knows that it’s because of you that he feels like he can breathe-- that he feels like the world will be fine without him for a moment-- that he can laugh and love even after everything that has happened.

The two of you lie in bed together, talking in low voices before sleep overtakes you both, and Lucifer is so full of love. “You make this world so much more beautiful just by being in it,” Lucifer whispers to you, cupping your cheeks and enjoying the way your cheeks warm under his palm. “Good night,” he tells you, hoping he’ll be able to say this to you every other night thereafter.

Belphegor

It means a lot to have gotten to know you and to be by your side, especially considering the fact he almost prevented that from happening. It’s something that he regrets, giving a twinge of guilt every time, but whenever you’re with him, the guilt gets easier to bear and he can focus more on how much he loves you. How much happiness you bring to him and to others, and how much you enjoy life and all the little things in life-- all the bitterness that used to overtake his entire body seems to ebb into nothing when you’re around.

“Thank you,” he tells you just as you leave him to his nap. “For being alive.” He peeks his eyes open when you turn around and stare at him with wide eyes. “You make this world so much more beautiful just by being in it,” he says, and he lets you walk up to him and engulf him in a hug that’s as warm and loving as the afternoon sun.

“I love hearing from you!”

Asmodeus

He adores you when you go off on tangents when the two of you spend time with each other, whether you’re in the bath together or while he’s painting your nails. The sound of your voice is very soothing to him and he’s always endeared by the way you’re excited when you speak about something you love or even when you just talk about your day-- he really can’t get enough of you.

“Sorry,” you say, feeling yourself redden. “I feel like I’ve talked a lot.”

“No, no!” Asmo tells you, leaning over to you so he can pepper small kisses onto your cheeks. “I love hearing from you! About your day, about what you did, what you ate,” he says, entangling your hand with his. “You make everyday life just seem so... exciting! And I want to be a part of that world with you.”

“Your mind is so powerful!”

Solomon

As a man (whom I suspect has lived for centuries), having the opportunity to have gotten close to you and see how your mind works is incredibly rewarding to him. Within your ideas or your plans or your jokes, he feels like he gets to see a different side of you and gets to know you more-- and fall in love with you again and again.

You scoff when you first hear this coming from Solomon though. Any compliments could have any type of meaning, but when you turn around, you immediately feel yourself flushing when his gaze is unwavering and sincere.

“I mean it,” he tells you even when you huff at him, laughing. “Your mind is incredibly powerful. The ideas you come up with always have a twist of your own personality, whether it means it’s unique, or creative, or kind.”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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evajellion · 3 years

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So let’s talk about the final boss of Final Fantasy IX

AKA “in defense of Necron” or “Zidane straight up meets an ophanim”

Okay so, I bought this game two years ago-- and this was probably the first Final Fantasy game I actually played all the way until the end. Like most people, I love the game but could have done without Necron appearing “out of nowhere”, and I found it way too easy.

While I still stand by the latter opinion in that Necron is disappointingly easy compared to other bosses in the game, I have become less harsh on their appearance as final boss and would let to take a step back and explain why the final boss is actually fascinating. I’m sure most people scoff at the idea but… just hear me out, alright?

Let’s start with two things, just to the obvious and get it out of the way.

1. Final Fantasy IX was under crunch, it was rushed with the PS2 looming over. There are several plot threads left hanging unlike in other FF games, the worst probably being Freya and the Burmecians.

At some point in development, only going off of word of mouth, there was supposed to be another dungeon dedicated to the final boss instead of Trance Kuja. This idea was probably scrapped since there was no time left to fit a final dungeon for build-up to Necron’s presence, provided this word is true in the first place.

2. Originally, the final boss was going to be Hades but this was sadly scrapped, the reason being that Square didn’t want an actual figure from Greek mythology being the final boss of a FF game. (Although, Hades was a summon in past games anyway)

This is disappointing, since I think the idea of the cast falling into the underworld and needing to prove their strength to Hades makes a lot more sense. FF9 has stuff involving tragic plays at the start of the game, Greek tragedy is a big part of theater, and there are myths such as the tale of Orpheus who make deals with Hades to bring back loved ones.

To compensate for this? Square makes quite possibly one of the most biblically accurate angels in a video game that isn’t Bayonetta; Necron. Necron is not a demon, no, they are an angel. Although they are weak to holy and referred as “Eternal Darkness”, they can also use it and are vulnerable to wind spells.

Necron represented with rings, something often associated with an ophanim, which is described as having multiple wheels with eyes. While eyes are absent on Necron, you can faintly make out what appear to be screaming faces on their body.

Even more accurate to old biblical angels-- Necron is genderless, they have indeterminate traits and no spoken pronouns. Having muscular arms and chiseled abs associated with masculinity (when it comes to Square games), but also a soft face and a very… profound chest. There’s a horror and beautiful elements to Necron’s design, akin to how angels are.

Some say Necron is a call back to previous Final Fantasy end bosses like CoD, Zemus, or Exdeath. While it’s definitely true that in design and in concept they are similar… Necron honestly isn’t antagonistic or outright evil. They call Zidane foolish and try to get him to succumb to his fate, but otherwise isn’t spiteful.

Necron uses their powers to bring the party facing them to their level, indicating they do want a fair battle. They don’t look down upon Zidane and co., they fight evenly. Not to mention, rather than being furious over their defeat, who just crumble into their own hatred, Necron says this:

“Why defy your fate?”

“I am eternal… as long as there is life and death.”

They aren’t angry over defeat, Zidane and co. are warped out immediately. In fact, Necron just seems to be… confused?

It’s almost cute in a sort of innocent manner? It’s like they have no understanding of why others cling to life when the inevitable end brings terror and anxiety, like what happened to Kuja. “Why not just end the suffering now like everyone else has? Please it will make you feel better, I promise.”

Necron is just a force of nature that acts upon summon, similar to Eidolons. Given the fact that this game centers around the questions about life and death, the perfect ending to Final Fantasy IX is to have a final boss be a literal death deity that doesn’t understand the reason to live at all? At this point, the party has figured out what to live for, they aren’t to back down to the embodiment of the end.

And no, Necron is not the goddamn tree of life or whatever. There is nothing backing this up, please stop spreading that misinformation. The tree was kept going with the plot Garland tasked and had grown arrogant, Necron is just oblivious and going what they know.

On one final note…

Garland intended for Kuja and Zidane to be the “Angel of Death”, but at the end of FF9, you fight the literal definition of that.

Ironic how that turned out.

#final fantasy ix #Final Fantasy #necron #zidane tribal #final fantasy 9 #tl;dr necron is a very dumb and confused angel

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

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Acutely (coda to 15x13 ‘Destiny’s Child’, Dean/Cas, 2.5k)

ao3 link

Jack said he's sorry, after getting his soul back.

Jack said he's sorry, and he's looking at Dean. They're all looking at Dean.

Jack said he's sorry, and Dean can't take it. It's too much. Like a frog thrown into a boiling pot he hops out, jumping out from the room towards safety. Doing his best not to succumb to the pain.

He can't hide forever, let the wounds fester. It's too much to deal with on his own, though. Can someone help him through it?

It’s no secret, where he hides. Where he ran away to after Jack broke down in an apology. Overwhelmed by the sorrow in the younger boy’s voice; his remorse for actions Dean hadn’t mentioned in so long. Dean barely made it before his knees buckled, collapsing on his bed instead of the floor. Face pressed against the pillow Dean counted his breaths while ignoring the heavy lump sitting in his throat.

He loses track after seventy-five, mumbling ‘one… two… three… four… five…’ over and over until he felt like his feet were farther from the edge than they had been. As he lifts his head, Dean takes stock of himself. Grimaces at how sweat dampens both his shirts, dark fabric clinging annoyingly underneath oppressive denim. And as the knot unwound in his stomach, Dean realizes he hadn’t eaten yet. Hunger gnaws at his awareness, begging for attention. Thinking about food, though, guides his paths towards the kitchen and – ultimately – Jack, again.

There’s not much of an appetite left after that.

Instead he blindly throws off his outer layer, then his undershirt. Bends, clawing at his laces and when they unravel, he yanks them and his socks off, too. Discards his jeans by flinging them into some far corner. Red boxer-briefs are all that remain, for the moment. In the next second Dean reaches for a set of pajamas. Picks the set at the top of the pile. Cowboys riding bucking broncos on the pants while lasso script spells out ‘Save a Horse’ on the shirt. As he pulls it overhead, he hears something shift nearby. Turning, Dean finds Cas watching him from the hallway.

“Crap,” he hisses, tugging the shirt down. Cheeks burning under Cas’s intense gaze, “Ever hear of knocking?” Instincts say he should cover himself, but midway through wrapping arms around his midsection Dean realizes what a ridiculous notion that is. Actions aborted Dean’s fingers twitch before they retake his shirt’s hem. Twisting it as the awkward silence continues. “Cas?”

This breaks Cas from whatever trance he fell under. Cas steps into his room, “Sorry, Dean, you left your door open.”

“Right…” If his hands weren’t busy strangling fabric one would be rubbing a hole into the back of his neck. “I – uh, must’ve forgotten.” Dean finally fights back the static drowning his mind, releasing his shirt hem. “What uh… what’re you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.”

Sweet, but totally despicable. Cas’s earnest tone easily overpowers his crumbling defenses, making the flush across his skin deepen. Lips pursed, Dean dips his eyes so he won’t fall prey to the deadliest of his angel’s weapons. Angel blades have nothing on those baby blues. “Thanks,” he coughs, shrugging, “but I wasn’t the one having a full breakdown five feet from the cookie cereal…” He sits down once more, at the foot of his bed, squeezing his knees. “How is Jack, by the way?”

“He’s calmed, somewhat,” Cas tells him, slowly pacing Dean’s room. Picks up Dean’s stray button-down, loosely folding it while he talks. “Sam had a brilliant idea of taking him for a drive.”

“A drive? Is that allowed?”

“Well, Billie didn’t appear and tell us no….” He sets the shirt on Dean’s dresser, claiming the nearby chair for his own. “They left awhile ago. Not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Awhile, huh?” Dean snorts, arching a stern brow. “And you’re only visiting me now?”

Cas stiffens, “Yes. You see – um…” Stuttering, Cas stalls for time as he thinks up an answer.

Tension leaks out of Dean’s shoulders watching him, seeing his angel go through human motions. Dragging a hand through his hair and pulling at his tie, both alight a familiar warmth in his heart. He snuffs that flame a second later, knowing how dangerous it would be if he let it keep. “Kidding,” Dean sighs, smiling, “I’m glad you waited. Probably wouldn’t have been this… chatty?”

“Of course…” Cas says, nodding, “I figured you’d need some time alone… to – to sort through things.”

He’s being generous. Dean used all his strength to not remember the pain stricken across Jack’s face. The wound is still so fresh, Jack ripping off the scabs with a frenzy caused by his soul’s return. Mary’s death hurting like it happened yesterday. “Maybe you should’ve given me five or ten more minutes, then,” he chuckles, tapping at his temple, “still a mess up here.”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm what?”

“Oh, nothing –“

“Bullshit, Cas,” Dean leans forward, a more devilish expression on his face, “C’mon. Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

“Nothing you probably don’t already know,” Cas says, “I’m… trying to wrap my head around this whole day. Jack getting his soul back… it’s remarkable. But also, troubling. How could that even be possible and – and will it last?”

“Don’t think about it too much, man,” he says, “what happened with Jack it’s… it’s a gift. Probably one of the few we’ve ever gotten that’s come with no strings attached. A win.”

“Have we ever gotten a win like that?”

It’d be so simple. Unfortunately, Dean chomps off the head of his one-word confession. Swallows the three-letters alongside all his other feelings. By the time the corpse of it decomposes in his stomach, Dean realizes it’s been too long since he last spoke. Cas waiting, staring at him. An awkward chuckle bubbles forth, his breath reeking of ashen sincerity. “Bout time we got one, then, don’t you think?”

He concedes, mouth thinning in a cunning smile. “I suppose we are… but enough about what I think.” Dean’s lips pinch tight. “I think we’ve delayed the inevitable conversation. Don’t you?”

“No,” he says, “we can delay it some more. Like… what was up with those bootleg versions of us?” Dean scoffs, “I bet that other me doesn’t even know what pie tastes like… too busy cramming caviar down his throat.”

“You might enjoy caviar. I hear it’s very popular?”

“Caviar’s only popular because it’s expensive,” Dean tells him, “and all those rich dudes spent too much money on it to hate it, so they lie and convince others it’s good and it’s an awful, self-servicing cycle.”

“I didn’t know you had such strong opinions on caviar?”

“I’ve got strong opinions on just about everything…” Dean makes the mistake of glancing up, catching sight of Cas’s judgmental bend of his brow. “But you don’t wanna hear any of those…”

“Not right now, no…” Cas stands, drifting towards his door. “I guess you were right, you do need more time by yourself. Perhaps in the morning –“

“Shit, Cas, I’m sorry,” he says, rising, grabbing his elbow. The touch sears even through the jackets and shirt; Dean’s grasp on it firms, savoring it. “Y’know how… how tough this has got to be for me, right?” His throat cracks on the last word, eyes glistening. He feels the tears brimming behind them, pooling, waiting for release.

Cas sighs, dropping any pretense of exiting. “I do,” he says, hand hovering over Dean’s briefly. Considering if he should. A short argument, as it gently embraces his hand; the one chaining Cas to him. “That’s why I want you to speak. Free yourself of the burden… let me help carry it with you.”

“You don’t have to, Cas,” Dean says, “You’ve got your own things, worries t’deal with –“

“That won’t stop me.”

Stubborn. A double-edged sword that makes up the arsenal of Cas’s traits, all weapons Dean would gladly throw himself on.

Cas quiets, then, waiting for Dean and his response. Words were unneeded. Dean can decipher all he thinks by looking into his angel’s eyes. Captivating, whether in the harsh fluorescents of his bedroom or the soft moonlight of an abandoned church. They always make his head dizzy, thoughts unspooling like Dean drank half a bottle of whiskey or smoked three joints. The more he stays the course, the worse it gets. He nearly forgot hellhounds were baring down on them, Sam their last defense against the creatures, because Cas’s eyes hold a magic that quells any fear or worry gnawing at Dean’s senses.

“Dean?”

“It hurt being around him,” Dean whispers his admittance, inching closer. Chests almost pressed together. Noses dangerously close. His toes practically climbing atop Cas’s dress shoe. “I hate that that’s true but… it is. Because as glad as I was to see the kid still kicking it… I’m just reminded of her.” Cas’s thumb rubs a comforting circle into his knuckles, Dean dropping his gaze there. “Reminded of what he did. How he just didn’t… didn’t get it, y’know. Couldn’t tell that it was bad. He – there was still this… this disconnect. And after he came back I could tell he’d look at me and try to find the words t’apologize but they were never there. And without them, we’d never move past it. He’d still be hurting, and so would I… Which sucks because – because I know you think of him as your son, but y’know… I think of him as mine, too –“

“I like to think of him as ours, Dean.”

“Yes, well…” he clears his throat, tongue wetting his lips as he recovers. Dean chooses tactical evasion, ignoring Cas’s comment and moving on. “He’s like… my second chance. He is a second chance. A second coming, really – sorta like Jesus –“ He pauses, gaze darting towards Cas’s face. “That doesn’t matter. I just… I wanted to make things right with Jack, but he didn’t know how – and I sure didn’t know how. So we were circling each other, doing nothing. I could feel things festering. The happiness that came after Jack’s return began fading; instead of relief there’d be dread whenever he walked into a room. Got it into my head that things’d never get any better, and there was no way of fixing this rift between us.”

“But with his soul, he finally understands,” Cas says, “he’s apologized. That’s what you wanted?”

“It is. I… yeah,” Dean shudders, neck suddenly weak. It bends, Dean’s chin saved from touching his neck by Cas’s forehead supporting his. There noses are beside one another, lips a breath apart. “I know it’s for the best but… seeing him cry, all I wanted to do was hug him. Let him know it’d be all right. Except I ran I… I couldn’t say anything. He was hurting and that – that made me hurt even worse. And then I felt glad he could feel hurt… it sorta spiraled from there.”

Cas hums, Dean’s mouth vibrating with the note. “You were overwhelmed,” Cas says, “there’s no reason for you to be ashamed.”

“Yes, there is.” Dean scowls, “I’m middle-aged, can gank a monster twice my size without blinking, but the second a situation gets too touchy-feely I stomp on the gas and speed through all the red lights.” While Dean talked about Jack, a highlight reel of all his shortcomings playing on a giant screen in his mind. Times where Dean’s emotions short-circuited. Fried his circuits, caused him more pain than necessary. Many of those scenes feature a recurring character, shaped like a man in a trench coat. It flickers out, leaving Dean with a blank slate. That fades, too, and Cas’s face is there.

“It’s not fear, Dean. Not at all,” he says. Protest swells, but with a sharp look from Cas it wanes. “Trust me, as someone who knows you… knows your soul, you – you are not afraid of feelings. Not at all.” He smiles, Dean leaning back for the full effect. Blessed by heavenly light. “On the contrary,” Cas continues, “You embrace your emotions. Unfortunately… sometimes you feel too much and that – that can be particularly difficult to manage. I remember when I was human, sometimes the smallest of ripples in my heart caused me great pains. Something modest like being cold or hungry… or in pain, were too much for me to express. Your capacity for feelings, your intelligence and understanding it’s… fantastic. But there are limits. We all have them. You feel too much sometimes that you cannot express yourself or even deal with them.”

Dean’s tears prick at the corners of his eyes, dangling. Still unshed. “It does feel like that,” he says, “Sometimes it’s… like there’s a highway, and it’s rush hour. Traffic on – on all sides. No one’s moving, and I’m behind the wheel and I want to go but I can’t and I… I get so angry that I can’t.” He lets go of Cas, slipping from his loose grip. “S’what I’m feeling right now.”

Cas accepts Dean’s need for distance, hands retreating into his pockets. “And what I’m here, to tell you, is this. You might be behind the wheel, but you’re hardly alone in that car. Sam’s there. Jack’s there. And I am most certainly there.”

Dean nods, wiping a hand down his face. “Thank you, Cas. I… needed this.”

“I’m glad to be of service, then.” Cas’s tone fell, a discordant pluck of the harp that triggered Dean’s worry. Before he could ask about it, his angel floats away. “I should let you get your rest. Today was exhausting…”

Halfway out the door, Dean stops him. “Cas, wait!”

“Yes?”

Standing there, framed by his doorway, waiting for Dean to continue with shining eyes, Dean thinks his angel never looked more gorgeous. And he wants to tell him. Despite how the words stick in his throat, the sweat dripping from his forehead, and how his feelings might be received, he wants to tell him. He wants to tell him everything. Finally.

That flame from earlier, snuffed out, relights. Burns hotter than Baby’s engine gunning down the highway. Ballooning, spreading through his veins and disorienting him. The room spins, his vision blurs, but Cas stays clear and firm. It’s right there, on the tip of his tongue –

“Yes, Dean?”

He’s cold. Doused by an untimely thought that quells any of his passionate desires, leaving him charred, ashen, and helpless.

Dean notices the frown lines around his mouth. The way his eyes drooped in a way they’ve never done. Shadows stretch across his body, slithering, hiding most of his expression from Dean. But he senses a tiredness there that, on Cas, seems foreign.

The moment passes. It wouldn’t feel right, anyway.

“Just…” his face hurts from the tight grin he forces, “I go both ways.” Blushing, he amends his statement. “I mean, I don’t have to give you all my baggage – I can… I can also help you carry some of yours, if you’d like?”

Cas tilts his head, light revealing a gentle smile. “I’d like that. Night, Dean.”

“Night Cas…”

A closing door never felt more ominous.

Dean stares at it, chewing on his lip. Chest aching, heart beating against it with the force of a storm wreaking havoc. He walks towards the switch, flipping it off. Bathing the room in shadows. Making it easier. “Cas,” he says aloud, looking ahead into the endless darkness. “I love you. After this is all over, and we don’t have any more fights heading our way… I’d like for you to stay. With me. And we can have the life we both deserve. I just… I want you to know what I’m fighting for. It’s not the world. It’s you. It’s us.”

He slips under the covers. Talking to empty air didn’t make the feelings disappear, or easier in dealing with. But it’s a start.

Maybe he’ll do better in the morning.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel coda #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x13 destiny's child #better late than never lol

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nevcolleil · 3 years

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I just really like thinking Castiel in ways that the show doesn't explore at all - how other he had to be in the beginning, not having worn a vessel in so long. Did he blink enough? Fidget enough? (Or too much and/or in odd ways?) Did he breathe or did he not bother, even though the not breathing would give him an unsettling stillness... Did he ever forget his own strength? Not just in the big, obvious ways - grabbing things too hard, etc. - but the unsettlingly weird ones too, like leaving footprints on hardpacked dirt. Did he always keep his entire trueform perfectly hidden, or did he cast strange shadows when he wasn't paying attention?

And then after Cas has spent some time with Dean and Sam... After he's started trying to fit in - does he ever stop getting it just a little bit... wrong? Or does he breathe too steadily and purposefully, blink at too regular intervals - and just completely stop when adequately distracted? Has he chosen a really subtle but uncomfortably weird way to fidget in order to not seem too still? Does he put too much care into hiding his true form? Like he casts a regular shadow always, but it's always just a little too exact - like a moving painting of a shadow rather than the real thing. He never knocks over anything... because he always gives himself such an oddly wide berth; he never breaks anything because he puts an unusual amount of care into touching things, like he thinks he might crush that doorhandle if he isn't gentle with it.

I like thinking about what he looks like next to an angel who still hasn't learned to fit in. Does he seem more human next to them... or even less so? Does the contrast emphasizes how hard he has to work at it and underline the ways in which he still has work to figure out?

I like to think about what Castiel looks like to other angels. I imagine his conscious human behaviors unsettle them as badly or even worse than his otherness unsettles humans. Maybe there are even human habits and traits he's picked up that actually aren't even conscious anymore? Things that come to him naturally the longer he's here - but aren't actually all that natural to a human or angel. I imagine those things unsettle other angels most of all.

And how do humans who don't know Cas perceive his efforts? Do they even see them as conscious effort? Or as mimicry? If the latter... do his attempts come across as sincere or manipulative?

More than anything I like to think about how other beings look at Sam and Dean and Cas in relation to one another. Angels like to scoff at Cas for the way he sticks by Sam and Dean... especially Dean, but is any of that casual disdain just bravefacing? Like, when Cas is at his most powerful, do they look at him deferring to Dean and sort of freak out internally because that looks like a human being, but it can't be a human being because it's leading a seraphim around without any visible spellwork or wards or anything. Do they think Dean is sort of wrong because he seems to not sense how dangerous Castiel is - or sort of feral because he doesn't seem to care? Do humans get even more scared of Cas when they see the way he follows Dean and Sam around, favors them, because why the hell is it doing that? Or does the friendship make them more scared of Dean and Sam?

Sometimes I like to think that the humans who find out the Winchesters ride with an angel - not even just as needed, but whenever possible - just think about the situation for a second and think nope, not gonna think about it. The same way that they don't like looking steadily into the angel's oddly intense, unblinking eyes, they just stop looking directly at Dam and Dean too.

#castiel #sam and dean #sam and dean and cas #outsider pov

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justjessame · 4 years

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Hellfire and Angelic Grace Chapter 6

Trivial Pursuit. John would laugh, but Li-Li was proving better at it with a concussed head than Sam at full strength. Another admirable trait, if only he wasn’t so fucking competitive. After the third game she beat them in no time flat and he eyed her with suspicion.

“How often have you played this?” He asked, tapping the box of trivia cards and squinting at the giggling young woman.

She smirked at him and his heart lurched. “A time or two.” Then she winked at him. “Why-ever do you ask, John?” She was trying too hard to sell her innocence.

“Boys,’ he announced, gaze never leaving hers, “we’ve been had.” He tried to fight his smile, but knew he lost when hers grew. “She’s a fucking trivia shark.”

Li-Li tried to fight her laughter, but couldn’t. As she laughed, John was forced to join in simply because it was so infectious. Then Sam and Dean came along for the laugh track. “Sorry,” she shrugged. “I haven’t found new victims since my parents,” she stopped and took a small breath, but her smile held. “They used to LOVE inviting friends and business colleagues over. Wow them with my brilliance. No one ever caught on, until today.”

“Could probably take you at pool though,” Dean dared, glint in his green eye.

Another wide innocent smile, she blinked her eyes slowly and worked to make it real. “If you’d like to try, the pool table is down that hall.”

Sam laughed. “Damn, Li-Li, is there a game you aren’t going to wipe the floor with our asses at?” He’d been the only one who nearly beat her at trivia, nearly but still not near enough.

She nodded. “One.” She stood up and went to the game cabinet she’d gotten the trivia box from. Pulling out a familiar box, she brought it back to the coffee table. Sitting down they all grinned. “Monopoly. It’s the only one I haven’t worked out a trick for, my parents insisted it was because I lack the ‘blood in the water shark instincts of a robber baron,” she shrugged, clearly not at all bothered by that description. “Just didn’t see the point, it’s only play money after all.”

Their game lasted until the sun peeked over the horizon. She’d been honest. At Monopoly, at least, she didn’t have the killer instinct that they did. She laughed, head propped up on her hand, as the three Winchester men argued about EVERY part of the game. She thought, at once tense part of the game, that Dean may actually strip search Sam for an accusation of stolen money. A huge yawn overtook her as the glass wall overlooking her back yard lit with sunlight.

John’s attention, never far from her, noticed. “I think it might be safe for you to try to sleep now, Li-Li, but one of us should still be in the room with you. Just in case.”

Dean stood and reached for her hands to pull her to her feet. Once standing, she took them by surprise again. “I have to leave a message for Ali. She was going to open the bar with me today anyway, but I need to tell her she’s solo. I’m taking the day off.” She noticed their raised eyebrows. “I deserve a day off, and I’m fucking exhausted.” Another yawn rolled over her as she picked up her phone. She left the briefest message possible while still reassuring her best friend that she was fine, just tired. Finished, she turned to start down the hall to her bedroom. Looking over her shoulder, she glanced at John. “Aren’t you coming? I thought I had to have supervision, after all.” She didn’t notice Sam and Dean’s open mouths at her choice.

John followed her down the hallway at a respectful distance. She opened a door and stopped. He nearly bumped into her body. “What’s wrong?” He asked, drawing back from her body.

“I forgot to tell them where they could sleep.” She turned and almost went back to the front room, but he stopped her.

“Which room?” He asked, and she pointed out two at the other end of the hallway. He nodded. “Go in and get ready for bed, sweetheart, I’ll take care of the boys.”

She smiled and went inside her room. While he was gone, she tugged off her work clothes, sighing happily at the freedom of being released from her bra. Taking a long night shirt with her into her en suite bathroom, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and took down her hair to brush it. Then she made a loose knot on the top of her head, and stepped out of the bathroom. John was already back. She smiled at how uncomfortable he looked, just standing inside the still open door. Lolly was already on the bed.

“There’s an extra toothbrush in my bathroom, and I’m sure you want a minute to yourself.” She moved into her bedroom and climbed onto her king size mattress. “I won’t fall asleep until you’re back, I promise.” She held up her hand in a Girl Scout sign. Wondering if that would work, she also crossed her heart. She heard his chuckle and watched him shake his head.

“You don’t have to wait, just get comfortable and I’ll be right back.” He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Alone, even if it was feet away from her, he let out a long breath. Get a grip, he silently told his reflection. She picked me because I’m the one she’s less likely to make a quick decision to touch or grab on to. I’m the least likely one for her to fall for, for fuck’s sake, look at Dean! Pep talk out of the way, he brushed his teeth, and took off his top shirt. Down to jeans and his t-shirt, he opened the door and found her lying on the bed, running her fingers through the dog’s fur. He leaned against the door frame and watched her for a moment. Tiny woman in a huge bed.

“Just gonna stand there staring or are you coming on in?” She asked, not looking up. Lolly was almost asleep, and she knew that if she stopped brushing her fingers through the big goofball’s fur, she’d be up and ready to play again.

She saw John reach for the plush chair she kept for when Ali and her were getting ready for a night out, so one of them could sit comfortably and critique the other’s outfit. She shook her head and kept one hand on Lolly, she yanked the empty side of her bed’s blankets over to expose the sheets underneath. “My bed is enormous, John, I think you can lay here and never touch a single part of me and be more comfortable than even that fucking chair.”

“I don’t think-” he started to say and heard her scoff.

“Don’t think,” she answered, her voice quiet, because Lolly was almost out. “Just get in the fucking bed.” It was playful, but still an order.

He smirked at her pull, the power she realized she had, or didn’t know, but used anyway. “If you insist.” He pushed the chair back to its original spot and kicked his shoes off. Before he could sit, she snorted.

“Always get comfortable in jeans and a belt?” Her eyes barely glanced at him, but he could hear the dare in her voice. The little minx.

Shaking his head, he slid his belt free from the buckle, and opened his jeans. Dropping them unceremoniously to the floor he stepped out of them. “Better, Princess?” He asked, waiting for confirmation before crawling on the bed.

She shrugged, but she was smirking. “You’ll thank me when we get up from my nap and you’re not feeling like your balls are going to rot off from the press of denim.” He nearly choked on his own tongue. She just casually mentioned his balls, as though it were no big deal. For fuck’s sake. “Get in bed, John.” She laid back against the fluffy pillows, her hand free from Lolly’s fur. The dog gave a gentle snore, but didn’t wake up. “She can’t sleep until I brush her hair to calm her down.” She explained, feeling the dip in the mattress as he finally got into bed. “Am I going to have to repeat that with you?”

John felt a rush of need spread through him at the mere thought of her stroking him. Anywhere. He coughed and settled against the headboard, sitting up since he was here to keep her alive, not nap. “I think that would defeat the purpose of me being in the room with you, darlin’.” His voice was raw, and he cleared his throat. “Can’t watch over you and the insides of my eyelids at the same time.”

She gave a small chuckle and it warmed him. “Aw, come on, John. I think we both know that you’re a light sleeper. You’ll hear me before I do.” She was a temptress. That was the only explanation for it. “Lay down and rest, you look as exhausted as I feel.” Another order, but far more tempting than he wanted to admit. “I promise not to die.” She crossed her heart again and he laughed.

“You’re pretty damn sure of yourself aren’t you?” His smile and those dimples, Lilana felt warm all over looking at them. She nodded and he groaned, laying flat and turning to watch her. “Better?”

She hummed and turned to face him. “Much.” Her smile was like magic, and he felt the light of it tingle through him. “I promise you’ll thank me later.” And her eyes began to droop closed, finally done fighting the exhaustion, and he thought he must have imagined her next sighed words. “After all, this is how it’s supposed to be.”

#supernatural fanfiction #alternate universe #crowley/daughter #angel/demon #john winchester x ofc #sam winchester #Dean Winchester #eventual smut

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burning-fcols · 4 years

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-gently plops Alastor in here for the opinion meme-

- ✩ { @sinfulredemptions } ✩

{ ☆ } ❝ Alastor is... strong. ❞ Words are quiet, hesitant as if he’s not entirely sure how to form them. Not normally one to be tentative about letting his mouth run rampant when it doesn’t matter, it’s a new look on the spider; one he doesn’t care to show. Rubbing his arm, gaze averts downward to the side, brows knitting slightly, ❝ He’s powerful... in more ways than one. I dunno exactly how ta put it. He jus’... He’s th’ kinda guy who seems like he could do anythin’ he wanted ta. He’s so put togetha’ an’ composed an’- an’... Fuck, he’s so strong. ❞

A strength that Angel feels as if he could only HOPE to possess.

Biting his bottom lip, he chews on it lightly before puffing out a breath of air. Alright, enough dwelling. ❝ Heh, I bet yer expectin' me ta say somethin' predictable like his ass or somethin'... ❞ He jokes, trying to deflect from his earlier moment of weakness. ❝ Nah, I like his voice... It's soothin' ta me, wit' or wit'out that fuckin' static shit he has goin' on. He's got one helluva laugh too... Th' kinda laugh that makes ya feel all giddy inside, y'know? ❞ They probably don't. ❝ But, if his voice doesn't count as a ‘physical trait’— ❞ Air quotes accompany the word ❝ —then I gotta give it ta his smile. ❞

Crossing his arms, fingers drum against the slender limb, ❝ I don't know what his deal is sometimes. When it comes ta how he feels about me... We get along jus' fuckin' peachy, an' talkin' ta him is one of th' betta' parts of my day. ❞ Of his life. ❝ But sometimes, I dunno if I'm readin' too much inta' all this? I mean- Al's a complicated guy. Heh, ain't we all? An' he shows how much he cares in li'l ways. Things most people probably wouldn't pick up on. ❞ Things that Angel appreciates with every fiber of his being. But still- ❝ But it'd be nice ta hear him actually say it, one of these days... I ain't askin' much. Jus' some confirmation, is all. ❞

Just four little words- I care about you. Because Angel sure as Hell cares about HIM. Loves the bastard, actually. For far more than just... ‘entertaining’ company.

Shrugging, a leg lightly rubbing against his other one, gaze raises as he grows impatient with this incessant questioning. This prodding into his personal, semi-confusing, relationship. ❝ This is gonna sound sappy as shit... but I'd like ta get a good cuddle sesh in wit' Al. For him ta jus'- hold me, at least for a li'l bit... ❞ Shaking his head and brushing the request off with a scoff, a hand waves dismissively as another rests on his cocked him, all signs of vulnerability— aside from the warmth in his face —slipping away in favor of his usual persona. Because okay- that's enough. ❝ But that ain't gonna happen, an' heh- it ain't even an issue~ ❞

❝ Al already gives me WAY more than he needs ta, an' I'm pushin' my luck as is... I don't need him ta touch me. ❞ Even if it's not in the way most would assume. ❝ I jus' need his company. ❞ { ☆ }

#(*weeps*)#burningfcols #This Is The Mantra; This Is My Life || {Angel Dust IC}#sinfulredemptions #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱʙᴇʜᴀᴠᴇ? ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」#♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ’ꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪʟᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ; ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɢɪᴏᴜꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Alastor and Angel Dust 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ— ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

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treebarkboii · 4 years

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SUMMARY:

Do you have imagination? Can you see beyond the obvious? Scared to dive into the unexpected is a curse society has put us all under, but are you able to break the bonds and save yourself of the typical stories forced down humanitie’s throats? Can you survive to the end of the tale and find the hidden meaning that will repeatedly try to scream out to you? I wish you well on this adventure, I hope your interpretations serve you justice in the end. Be prepared to molt.

STORY BELOW! PLEASE READ, SHARE AND COMMENT! WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR INTERPRETATIONS, ALL THE SUPPORT IS APPRECIATED!💖

It folds in on itself from dusk ’till dawn. It tires from the seemingly simple routine. Agony perhaps, impatience can contribute to that diagnosis more often than you’d think. Suffering, though, is a definition tailored to its very existence. A life lacking curiosity of the unknown of Earth’s future is a dooming curse that leaves it unshaken, for its sole interest has always been individual gain and loss, no more and no less.

“Where has the sunlight gone, that I am always unable to seek out its pooling warmth in my times of need?” It crouched down to the hardwood floor beneath, slowly propping itself onto all fours. It shivered from the sudden cold touch the ground radiated, it’s hairs standing at immediate attention.

“I can make it.” Groaned the determined creature. From the darkness a bellowing voice bounces off of the surrounding walls; “Stubbornness is not a trait of admiration, foolish thing.”

The isolated being turns its head rapidly in every direction, desperate to pinpoint the intimidating voice’s hideout. “What would you know about admiration? You cower in shadows rather than speak in the light.”

An eerie creaking could be heard echoing down the dusty corridors. It wonders. It contemplates if this new entity that has audaciously introduced itself is alone, if it is different, if it is dumb, if it is on a similar quest. In short, if it is truly a threat.

“You say cower, I say strategize. Though, that is something that you know nothing about.”

“You dare mock me, enemy?” It’s body tensed on instinct, leaning forward in an offensive position.

The interacting voice lowers into a raspy, shallow whisper, barely audible to anything not within its reach, “A harsh label for who you can not see, weak one.”

A slashing noise breaks through the mold of what once was just a conversation. Heaving breaths occupy the atmosphere until a complete still of silence coats them all. A pin would be heard if dropped to the floor.

The startled being inspects itself for wounds, only to find none. “I still contain purity.” It gasps out in relief.

“You can not hold what you were never given to grab.” It can tell the voice is noticeably aggressive now.

Suddenly, a gust of wind emerges, blowing the frightened creature back. Two glowing stars stare down at its frail figure slumped against a corner of the room.

The creature’s pupils dilate in bewilderment, eyes widening like saucers. “Hello… light.” It says while stalking forward, cautiously.

“I am not the light you search for. I am but its messenger, sent here to guide you.”

“Then why have you attacked me? How vindictive the light’s carriers must be to start wars with beings more miniscule than themselves.” It scoffs, head thrown to the side.

“What is war to you is a battle to me. I have done no such thing to you, not yet.” The giant owl spread its wings out, its body spanned the width of the area, its height reaching to the very ceiling they were concealed under.

“You claim yet… So that means-”

“Do not fret. What I reference will not commence today nor tomorrow nor the next day.”

“The day after that?”

“Possibly.”

A soft, symphonic melody begins to roll through the smaller creature’s mind at the sight of this majestic and cosmic being beforth it, urging it to move. “May I?” It asked respectfully, bowing its head.

“Of course.”

The youthful thing gleams with anticipation as it stalked ahead. It delicately stroked the owl’s dark, chrome multi-colored feathers in awe of the natural beauty they reflect. “I am mesmerized by you now more than in my dreams, what a wonder you are to witness.”

“An honor it is to be dreamed about, a sorrow it is to be mistaken as an identity I bear no relation with.”

The creature is hardly listening to the honest words the grand owl expresses and instead continues to explore the many miles of its physique. “I have yearned for this day for ions, and you have the gumption to tell me my waiting is not at its expiration date?”

“If that is how you’d prefer to see it, who am I to try and convince you otherwise. However, that is not near what I said, on the contrary.”

“You will lead me to the light?” The naive creature jolts back, its teeth for once being shown in what could only be described as a smile rather its usual sneering.

The owl rolls its sparkling eyes, a slight chuckle escapes past its inner cavities. “No. You will lead yourself. I have given you all you need to find your way.”

A glare paints itself across the younger’s face, a scowl breaks through from the conflicting information. “And what is it that you have supposedly gifted me with other than a mighty headache, magnificent beast?”

“What you assumed was an attempt at your life was in fact a touch of your soul. I have bestowed upon you the strength of the universe. The stars you see as my eyes are what now lies inside of you as well.”

The animal paces back and forth before swiftly lunging onto a nearby wall, forcing its weight against it. An extravagant thud is sounded on impact as it slammed into the hard structure and instantly fell down to the ground once again.

“I sure do not feel this so called strength.”

“Well, what do you feel?” The mighty, cosmic bird asked, entertaining its temporary companion.

“The same as I always have.” It replied with disdain entangled in its tone.

“Describe this emotional consistency you speak of, fellow.”

“Do not fret. For I have become content with my position.”

The owl roughly shuts his wings around itself. “If that was truthful, you would not be seeking for anything.”

“I suppose.” It sighed heavily, giving the two distance from one another. “I feel too much, but I admit misery is the underlying master of all the strings attached to this puppet. I fear the darkness is the hand masquerading as my puppeteer. The light is the only cure for me now, my singular hope, my last chance at an utter freedom I crave to taste if even for a second.”

“I see. It seems to me that you are an animal of captivity. I do hope you see yourself out of this cage soon, to ever feel the power you’re fortunate enough to have been granted.” It turns its back to the solemn creature.

It tries to rebuke the flying master of the sky but no words leave its agape lips.

“I speak for the universe, you know? Not just myself, as wise as I am.” It drifts off into incoherent mumbles that only fascinate the humbled creature whose attention is finally undivided.

“May I ask you a question?”

“One.”

Its voice trembles, thumbs curling into the wood below, “How big is the Universe?”

A frustrated breath exudes from the owl as if its been asked this very inquiry time and time again. “Infinite and endlessly expanding. Thousands of galaxies inhabit its vast space, most never knowing of each’s survival. It is as deep as the sea and as wide as the atmosphere you breathe in each morning. It is unforgiving but oh, so gentle. It is all the religions you could know of and all the gods you could read about. Are you pleased with this newfound knowledge?”

The mammal looked lost in thought, busy processing such an intricate web of words that was left to imagine for itself.

“I am intrigued… Why have you asked me this of all the many things you could have asked me?”

“I am unsure of that myself.”

The owl hummed in comprehension. “How transparent of you.” Its wings fawned out to reveal themselves once more. “Now, I must exit.”

“So soon? You have merely just arrived, my friend. Please, do not abandon me.”

“I will offer you a slice of advice, since you consider me an ally.” The owl’s head swiveled around its body in a slow, steady motion.

“Molt.” Then, as fast as it had arrived, it vanished into thin air, as if evaporated.

“What does that mean?” The lonely animal cried out into the empty void.

Salty droplets of water streamed along its skin. It reached its hand to its face to caress the area they’d fallen, but something else had been removed when it wiped. It glances into its own palm to be met with sheets of its own flesh. Panic occupies the room as it starts to hyperventilate at the sight, its chest rising and falling at an alarming pace. “What is happening to me?” It exclaimed, rocking back onto its bottom to sit while gazing up at a black beyond.

“I will not let this cease my movements. The light beckons me still.” Crawling towards oblivion, it strives to complete its ambitious journey.

Hours pass, the sun is set but it is blissfully unaware of the missed opportunity. The weather has decreased into the negative numbers, freezing over most watery surfaces and otherwise. The animal’s skin is no longer, it shed whilst traveling. Muscle could be seen peeking below the final layer, peeling off as it halted to a shortstop.

“I am melting to the bone. At this rate I won’t be waking tomorrow.” It lied down, sprawling itself out in a snow angel form. “I bid this world farewell, and pray there will be another much sweeter in my consciousness. With this last request, I accept my closure.” It fluttered its eyes close, allowing sleep to take over.

“Rise.”

“Rise, my child.”

With a huge gulp of fresh air, the creature shot up. An odd heat filled its core. Eyebrows furrowed, it scanned around the location. For the first time since its birth, it could see. It was never trapped in any labyrinths of halls, it was a cave, a cave decorated with carvings on every inch of the walls. Everything was illuminated, nothing was left unpainted by the light that shone brightly from within it. It peered down at its chest to gawk at the blinding ball of ember-like light that floated inside the confinement of its now-skeleton chest. A singular, last tear slid out of the slim pocket of its eye, its clenched jaw loosening.

It cupped its bone hands, bringing them to its chest. “You were with me the entire time, weren’t you? I was too blind to recognize you underneath all of the chapters of my body. No matter, though, at last we are reunited.”

“What are you?”

The animal inhales, leaning a hand on its knee, then hunching over and exhales to stand upright. It turns around to face a small boy, his expression clearly mesmerized by the glowing undead. “I am light.” It said confidently.

With those words announced, its muscle and skin started to grow back until it covered its whole body. A permanent glowing aura outlining itself like a personal highlighter remained for a few moments, until the being took a step across the invisible line that separated them.

“You’re not light. You’re human, like me!” The boy observed cheerfully.

The person knelt on one knee, a firm yet comforting hand resting on the little one’s shoulder.

Reassurement was evidence in the way the person said, “We are much more than that.”

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sarah-wants-to-write · 5 years

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Written in the Stars

Chapter Two: We’re Stars and We’re Beautiful

“You know our teachers are going to expect more from you, with the fact you’re a certified doctor, right?”

Bones rolled his eyes at Samarah’s teasing, already used to it after only a few days. Honestly, she was like the little sister he never wanted.

“And you have a masters in psych,” he countered “so you’re in the same boat. How did you manage that before your turned twenty-four, by the way?”

“Patience, determination,” she listed off, grinning “a whole lot of caffeine and zero social life.”

“Sounds like my residency,” Bones muttered, unable to stop a chuckle “I swear, though, if one more teacher asks if we’re related…”

“I take it as a compliment, especially considering how I never had any siblings growing up,” Samarah shrugged “it doesn’t quite help them that we do somewhat look alike.”

“Which I, frankly, find insulting to you,” he declared as they walked out of the lecture hall “you are way too lovely to have them going and comparing you to me.”

“Ah, is that your famous southern charm?” she teased, bumping him with her shoulder “don’t sell yourself short, Len, you’re a handsome man.”

“Kid, don’t start,” he grumbled, trying to hide his smile “I was starting high school by the time you were born.”

“Awww, don’t be so grumpy, gaezo,” Samarah reached up and gave his shoulder a pat “your inavva still thinks you look young.”

Bones bit back a retort at the compliment, not commenting on her calling him her brother. When he’d learned of Samarah’s heritage their first day, and noticed she casually used enochian in conversation-you could tell what she meant in context but still-he’d brushed up on the basics of the language.

“Come on, we said we’d meet Jim for dinner,” he told her “you know, he’d been really depressed this morning, but it looked like meeting you helped cheer him up.”

“I’m glad,” Samarah brightened up at that “he seems too kind to be as sad as he was.”

As much as he might have wanted to go on about Jim’s faults, Bones couldn’t help agreeing with her. In his heart, James T. Kirk was a good and kind young man.

When they finally left the building, it was easy to spot Jim. He was standing next to one of the stairway walls, leaning against it as he looked through his PADD.

Jim was smart, basically a genius, but he didn’t do that great in a normal classroom setting. It was no surprise he did so well, but not without struggle.

“Hey, Jim!” Samarah called out, smiling and waving to get his attention. When he looked up, Jim noticeably brightened before quickly packing his stuff up and rushing to join them.

Yes, he was very happy indeed to see his friends. Two friendly faces in a sea of students who ignored him and teachers who regarded him with unwanted pity or any other sort of emotion.

That was one of the reasons he liked taking Commander Gabriel’s class; the man challenged his students and treated them all the same. If there was anything the older man wanted to say about Jim’s personal or family history, he didn’t say it out loud.

“You guys ready to eat?” Jim asked as soon as he joined both McCoy’s “I’m starving.”

“Same,” Samarah agreed, already picking up the pace “let’s get there before the line fills up!”

“You know they don’t actually run out of food, right?” Bones questioned, both men almost having to put in an effort to keep up with her pace.

“Yeah, I just wanna be able to get a good spot!” She countered, turning and walking backwards to grin at them both “come on, you giants, lengthen your strides! I’m not that hard to keep up with, am I?”

When she turned back around, taking a bit of pity on the guys and slowing down some, both men couldn’t help giving each other amused glances, before bursting into laughter.

“Never been called a giant before.” Jim explained when Samarah gave him a confused look.

“Ah,” she nodded, laughing along with them “well, when you have my diminutive stature, most everyone’s a giant.”

“That’s fair,” Bones agreed, shaking his head and smiling a bit “still wouldn’t want to take you on in a fight, though.”

“Yeah, I had a few questions for you, actually,” Jim spoke up as they made their way into the dining hall and in line “once we sit down, I mean. Just about what you inherited from your angel family.”

“We can talk about that once we’ve found a spot to eat,” she agreed, looking back and smiling as she gave Jim’s arm a pat “I’m more than fine with talking about stuff like that, especially with my newest friend.”

Jim’s smile when she turned back around could have powered a starship docking station with how bright it was. She’d said he was her friend! This was definitely easier than expected.

Bones saw Jim’s smile, and was more amused than anything. Yet still, he was glad to see his friend had managed to make a new, actual friend. Jim wasn’t awkward, really, he was just…not what people seemed to expect.

Once they had their food and a spot to sit in a corner, near the windows, the three of them ate in silence for a bit, before Jim put his food down.

“So, I had just been wondering about what skills and abilities you’d inherited from your dad,” he explained, Samarah nodding along as she listened “maybe starting with why Bones wouldn’t want to take you on in a fight? Whatever your comfortable talking about.”

Samarah could see he was concerned about pushing boundaries, and completely understood; angels were a notoriously private race, with many topics considered taboo to discuss with a non-angel. However, being both half-angel and born on earth, Samarah didn’t share the same reservations; or at least, not as many of them.

“Well, to start with why Leonard wouldn’t want to fight me,” she started, smirking “other than my sheer scrappiness, at least; angels are as strong as, if not stronger in some cases, than Vulcans. I’m not the strongest, by any means, but I’m certainly stronger than the average human male. Perhaps on par with a weaker Vulcan.”

“What about your jacket?” Jim asked, earning Bones’ attention as well at that “Bones said you need those flaps sewn in for your wings?”

“I was born with wings,” she nodded “through I’m told I don’t have the same kind my father does. While wings are something only seen by a mate or family if not being used in situations where flight is necessary, each pair is unique to that angel and what they look like is generally common knowledge. My father, Azrael, has wings that look like a dragon’s wings. Most angels from Eden would use the title Zaldrīzes Tala as an insult, but being called the dragon’s daughter is a point of pride for me.”

“I thought you said yours don’t look like his?” Jim asked.

“And they don’t,” Samarah replied “mine match my hair in color, and they have feathers like a more typical pair of wings. Mine are shaped for flying long distances without relying on the wind.”

“What about those skills you talked about before?” Jim continued “the ones you said were useful in your future psych career?”

“Angels are highly sensitive and empathetic,” she explained “And I got those traits, as well. Being able to practically sense emotion, and be sensitive to it’s changes, helps in terms of helping others through their own issues and problems.”

Another ability she wasn’t sure whether or not she inherited was that of forging a mental connection with someone she had a strong emotional bond with outside of family. If she had this ability, as her uncle did, she hadn’t forged a strong enough bond with anyone by then.

“Wow,” Jim gave her a smile as he sat back “thanks for putting up with my nosiness. Whatever ship you get assigned to, they’ll be seriously lucky to have you.”

Samarah smiled in return, glad that things had gone well.

“It was my pleasure,” she insisted “besides, I know Leonard wanted to ask some of those questions, too.”

The scoff from their older friend had both Samarah and Jim laughing, before conversation turned to campus life as the three enjoyed their meal.

“Honestly, it’s not all that surprising no guy has asked me out since I got here,” she declared, shrugging as she cleared her plate “probably scared of what my uncle would do to them if things ended badly, or they just think I’m not pretty enough.”

“Well, it has to be the first one,” Jim asserted.

“Yeah, because that second reason is a damn lie,” Bones agreed as the three of them got up and went to put their plates away “you are not ugly, especially not by human standards.”

“But I’m still not most men’s type,” Samarah countered “most men don’t want someone half their size with twice their strength.”

“Cowards.” Jim and Bones simultaneously declared, causing Samarah to laugh.

“Good to know my friends appreciate my ‘tiny and mighty’ self,” she teased as they left the dining hall “well, I’ve got work to do. Leonard, you can give Jim my number, since you’ve got it already?”

“Sure,” he nodded, leaning down to let her hug him “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Jim,” she turned to the younger man, smiling “it was great to meet you, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“Same here,” Jim replied, smiling as he leaned down to give her a tight hug “thanks for everything, especially for earlier.”

“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need to talk,” Samarah muttered into his ear “over COMM or in person, I don’t care. You’re my friend now, and I’m always there for my friends.”

“I’ll remember that,” he promised as he reluctantly pulled back “go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Samarah waved as she headed off for the library, Jim and Bones watching her go before heading to their dorm.

“Anyone breaks her heart, and I’m breaking their bones.” Leonard declared, still miffed over her comments about how no one seemed to pay attention to her.

“I’ll hold them down for you.” Jim agreed, ignoring the knot in his gut. He was just feeling upset at the thought of Samarah being upset. That had to be it. She was his friend, and there was no way in hell he was jeopardizing that. At all.

He hoped that he’d be able to call her one of his best friends, one day. They certainly had the potential to grow that close.

Anyone hurt her, they’d have him to answer to.

#star trek #star trek aos #star trek fanficion #star trek kelvin timeline #star trek fic #written in the stars #james T kirk #leonard mccoy

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realrhythmskrp · 7 years

Photo

DISPATCH, (04/29/17): Mirage Media has officially released information about lead vocalist, Song Haneul, also known as Angel, on skyLectric’s official website! Angel is a ‘91 liner and has been beloved by fans since her debut in 2012. Find out more about Angel below!

I, (Song Haneul), have read and understand the terms and conditions as my position of (Lead Vocalist) and agree to honor the standards that are to be expected of me as an employee of ( Mirage Media ).

OOC INFORMATION

Preferred name: Lily

Pronouns: She/Her

Timezone: gmt+8

Other muses: n/a

Password (for reservations only): n/a

Skype (this is optional, but if you would like to join the RHYTHMSgc please leave your skype username here): n/a

IC INFORMATION

Faceclaim: Yoon Bora / Sistar’s Bora

Name: Song Haneul

Stage name (if applicable): Angel

Idol concept: Smooth, Sultry, Coquettish

Birth date and age: July 18, 1991

Company name: Mirage

Group Name (if applicable): SkyLectric

Group Position (if applicable): Lead Vocalist

Strengths:

Singing - Hitting a high note and harmonizing is easy for her. After their debut was delayed, she continued to take lessons and she made sure that if the group didn’t debut, she could manage to survive as a soloist at least.

Dancing - Like singing, Haneul worked day and night to perfect each step of the choreography for the sake of surviving in this harsh industry.

Variety Skills - With her honest expressions and charms, she’s often seen on tv shows as a guest.

Modelling - Having experience on the runway or more like, a pageant, Haneul is used to walking confidently. Even making the airport her runway.

Fanservice - If it’s for the fans, Haneul will do it. As a member of skyLectric, she feels that it’s a must for her to make sure that their fans will always love them. Often asked to do cute acts (which she thinks should be done by the maknae), despite her telling everyone that she doesn’t think she can act cute at all.

Body Icon - Maintaining the bikini ready body is no problem at all. She’s a gym fanatic and the fans know that!

Weaknesses:

Rapping - While she can sing and dance with no problem, She has a tendency to stutter when she gets nervous or excited as she tries to rap.

Acting - Asking her to lie on national tv is something that you will regret for life. But she’s working hard to be casted as a lead of a drama someday.

Scandals - Haneul tends to get involved in scandals for being nice to her fellow idols. She was bashed on her birthday for calling out an actor’s name out loud (though this was meant to be a joke and done playfully) as she was re-enacting a certain scene. Named as ideal type by certain idols, she gets caught up with dangerous questions such as “Are you willing to go out with ???” and so on.

Emotions - Haneul is too honest with her feelings. If she’s given an outfit she doesn’t like, you can quickly read it on her face that she doesn’t like it.

Positive traits: Charming, Kind, Passionate

Negative traits: Perfectionist, Emotional, Blunt

PERSONAL HISTORY

Song Haneul was an angel, a total blessing from the heavens as her family says. She grew up in a loving family. A caring mother, hardworking father and an overprotective older brother. Young Haneul always dreamed of being on television someday, but her mother insisted that she focused on her studies and her piano lessons. Her dream was to be a great pianist, at the age of five that is. When she turned seven, she started showing interest in ballet and singing. At seven, she wanted to become a musical actress. But life doesn’t always turn out the way you expect it to be. When she was ten, her father’s company started to spiral down. Moving from a fancy little home to a unfinished apartment complex. Her father felt sorry towards them but Haneul knew that things will get better someday. Haneul started hopping from one sport to another, hoping to get a scholarship to help her family. At fourteen, she was a volleyball athlete and an official member of her school’s dance troupe. During one of their competitions, she was scouted and given a calling card that she didn’t know, would change her life completely. One night, during a dinner with her father. She opened up about the idea of becoming an idol. Instead of hearing him oppose the idea, Haneul was surprised to see just how supportive her father was of her. Balancing school, family and being a trainee was something that Haneul soon learned to do so. Not without crying her heart out every now and then or sleeping in class or the practice room. Fifteen, she was on her way to becoming a star like she always wanted to be. Being the popular kid in school was a big help, she would often get help in class. Being pretty has it’s perks too. Boys would leave gifts, foods and letters every day. Girls do that too, but most of them often scoff when she passes by. Dating was a luxury but also a curse, she would be a total liar if she said she never dated. Because she did, but past is past. 2009, she was seventeen turning eighteen. SkyLectric was ready to debut. When she thought that the world was ready to see them shine, she was wrong. Their debut had to be pushed back and her hopes for actually debuting was slowly fading. She continued to climb her way for a better future and just when she was about to give up on being an idol, her company decided that the six member group would then debut as a four member group instead. When she was on the brink of giving up on her dreams, she halted training and joined Miss Korea. She trained with them for a month and competed for the crown with fifty three more contestants. But the crown was not meant for her, but still she landed on becoming fourth runner-up. It was both a sad occasion for her, because right after the live broadcast of the competition, her family finally revealed that her father was in the hospital. She couldn’t care less for the crown or her debut, running to the hospital in her gown as she held her father’s hand. He felt sorry for his daughter who had to do all those things just to be able to pave her own way towards her dreams. “Don’t give up on your dreams.” That’s what her father told her as she cried, holding his hand. After the re-run of Miss Korea on tv, her father smiled and told her how proud he was to have her as his daughter. When she told him that she was going to go back to Mirage to train and hopefully debut soon, her father smiled and that was the last memory she had of him. He never saw her debut. But up to this day, Haneul continues to strive forward to make her father proud in heaven.

#ryt:accepted #ryt:mirage #ryt:skylectric #rytangel

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realrhythmskrp · 7 years

Photo

DISPATCH, (06/24/17): Mirage Media has officially released information about lead vocalist, Song Haneul,also known as Angel, on skyLectric’s official website! Angel is a ‘91 liner and has been beloved by fans since her debut in 2012. Find out more about Angel below!

OOC INFORMATION

Preferred name: Lily

Pronouns: She/Her

Timezone: gmt+8

Other muses: n/a

Password (for reservations only): n/a

Skype (this is optional, but if you would like to join the RHYTHMSgc please leave your skype username here): n/a

IC INFORMATION

Faceclaim: Yoon Bora / Sistar’s Bora

Name: Song Haneul

Stage name (if applicable): Angel

Idol concept: Smooth, Sultry, Coquettish

Birth date and age: July 18, 1991

Company name: Mirage

Group Name (if applicable): SkyLectric

Group Position (if applicable): Lead Vocalist

Strengths:

Dancing - Like singing, Haneul worked day and night to perfect each step of the choreography for the sake of surviving in this harsh industry.

Variety Skills - With her honest expressions and charms, she’s often seen on tv shows as a guest.

Modelling - Having experience on the runway or more like, a pageant, Haneul is used to walking confidently. Even making the airport her runway.

Body Icon - Maintaining the bikini ready body is no problem at all. She’s a gym fanatic and the fans know that!

Weaknesses:

Rapping - While she can sing and dance with no problem, She has a tendency to stutter when she gets nervous or excited as she tries to rap.

Acting - Asking her to lie on national tv is something that you will regret for life. But she’s working hard to be casted as a lead of a drama someday.

Emotions - Haneul is too honest with her feelings. If she’s given an outfit she doesn’t like, you can quickly read it on her face that she doesn’t like it.

Positive traits: Charming, Kind, Passionate

Negative traits: Perfectionist, Emotional, Blunt

PERSONAL HISTORY

#rytangel #ryt:skylectric #ryt:mirage #ryt:revampapp #ryt:accepted

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