#I can't do anything it just feels like a hell I am bound to

[theseadolls]

Why is life so determined to remind me every corner I look at I am not loved nor worth a thing.

[bahrtofane]

about time

things have always been easy with trent, attached to the hip since you could remember. your other half, his biggest supporter. things were bound to turn romantic no? everyone was rooting for it, secretly you always were too. 

your first date as a couple goes more or less how you planned, awkward and full of teasing. 

word count : 3.1K+

watch it : mild jealousy, cuties, fluff fluff, kinda domestic near the end?

—--

“eat your food." 

you squint, "what the hell else am i doing, you eat your food."

he scoffs, "im literally half way done with my plate."

"it's literally not even a proper portion of course you're almost done." you point at his tiny little section of steak on about a tablespoon of mash potatoes. 

he waves you off and makes a comment about the "liberty of a kitchen."

you ignore this and take another bite of whatever the hell you ordered. you don't remember. you were too busy trying not to focus too much on the man in front of you.�� the all black outfit is insanity, you know he only went for it because you told him ages ago all black looks the best on him. and now here you are. suffering

you just nodded to whatever the waitress was saying. though she could have done with less ogglying at your date. your trent. 

you take pride in knowing your his go to, his best friend, his #1. you've been by his side longer than you can remember being without. he's your other half in every sense. before the fame and money, lavish life and dwindling time. he's always been yours somehow. 

maybe you should've known at some point that feelings were bound to be brewing. 

everyone and their mother had told you. hell, even your own mother had told you so. but you waved them off. he's my friend, no trent is my best friend, ew no that would be so weird, i can't even stand hin on a good day, he's annoying, nope just friends. 

now look at you. seated across from each other, his sleeves rolled up while you eat in candle light. the dark blue drapery of the establishment makes this feel way more intimate than needed. and the chandeliers that hang over your head are enough to make you stare in wonder. 

his sharp features almost soften like this, tucked away in a far corner away from prodding eyes and unnecessary media attention. where it's only the two of you in your little bubble, and the soft live piano that travels from the main foye. you enjoy this, but mainly you enjoy him. 

you noticed he cleaned up his facial hair for this, it makes your heart melt. the silver jewelry that shines on his golden skin is a mirror of the silver that drapes across you. he told you to wear silver. the maniac. he planned this all the way down to the damn jewelry. 

(the both of you are matching in general, which makes you feel something closer to insanity, it gives you a thrill when people’s gazes wash over the two of you and they can so easily tell you are here together. for each other. the stares you got while walking in don't go unforgotten.)

he's the one who dragged you to this restaurant, one much more fancy that you care for. any establishment that calls for floor length dresses to eat is above you, but he insisted. even taking time to tell you how stunning you looked on the way here. your cheeks were on fire the whole time you tried to come up with a counter, failing miserably and just telling him he looked handsome too. 

what a gentleman, driving you here and keeping a hand on yours the whole time. you were sweating the whole time. this whole thing is new to you. but you try not to explode while you sit across from him, sipping on your water to avoid eye contact. 

trent pretends to suddenly be very interested in the silverware, but you don't miss the way his gaze still manages to shift over to you, landing somewhere between your eyes and lips.

you sigh loudly, your appetite disappearing while you push your plate in front of you. 

"do not even start." he warns, fork raised and pointed at you. 

"i didn't even do anything ! what's with you tonight. "

"could ask you the same thing," he mumbles between mouthfuls of his steak, "you're being, very weird."

"im on a dinner date with you how else do you want me to act."

he coughs awkwardly at this, "i don't know ! normally. you haven't made fun of my shoes yet. where's the old grouchy evil and conniving friend i know. you're too, " he waves his fork in the air trying to find the right word, "civil."

you snort, "that's a mouthful. i don't know this whole dynamic shift is taking a while to get used to, " you shrug.

"we need to stop saying i don't know so often." he sighs, rubbing his eyes aggressively. 

you choose to ignore that bit, "and i need to be civil in public or your adoring fans might have my head."

he rolls his eyes, "that's a stretch."

you wave him off with a hand, "you never know. crazy people do crazy things."

he looks at you fondly at this, giving you one of his signature smiles, you look away and change the subject as fast as you can think. you don't need weak knees in a high end establishment. 

"you know i would've been just fine with takeout and a movie." you mumble softly.

he gives you a soft look " i know, but i wanted to make it special. take you out somewhere nice for a change. we never do that."

"you're not going to let me pay are you?" you muse.

he gives you a look, "im offended you even brought that up. i hope you know you're never going to be paying for things ever again right."

"and i hope you know i'm going to fight you over it the whole way through."

he finds this amusing, "yeah yeah yeah shut up and eat your food, i think my socks are sliding off my foot."

"i don't want to hear about your sweaty foot while i eat trent, gross." you fake gag. 

"cry about it." he dead pans. 

you narrow your eyes at him, "i'm going to talk about the pimple i popped on my shoulder, in great detail. is that what you want?"

"ew gross hell no. no more socks or feet geez." he scoffs. 

you cackle, "problem solved then."

he rolls his eyes but goes back to eating anyway, cutting his steak with way too much force than necessary. 

you on the other hand have to play tug of war with the fabric of your dress in order to keep it where you want it. 

"you want to leave don't you?" he comments. 

"that obvious?" he nods, "yep," popping the p.

"i don't want it to seem like I'm ungrateful for the effort or anything, because i swear it's not like that. i'm happy to be with you regardless and yeah. we don't have to leave." you try to explain. 

as much as you enjoy spending time with him this isn't your scene. you're aching to go home, and so are you poor ankles. these heels can only be worn for so long and they are coming up on their expiration date for the night. maybe trent can help take them- no fuck. bad. bad bad. this is a dinner, you're at dinner be civil. 

trent seems to be none the wiser as his attention remains on you. 

"why would we stay if you don't want to ?" he looks at you confused, brows drawn together, arm propped up against the table while he waits for an explanation. 

"because you're the one who wanted to come here?" "so? if you wanna go home then we'll go home."

home. oh. he's starting to refer to his house as home. for the both of you. that does something to you, you're almost dizzy. god how can one person be so sweet. 

"we can finish up and head home? i really don't mind." you suggest. 

he hums at this, "alright then. we’re stopping by the chinese place you like so much, you didn't even eat. "

"to be fair, the portions are the size of my pinkie and i think they took too much creative liberty in the kitchen." you wrinkle your nose. 

he giggles, that shy little spurt of laughter, the one you love so much and always try to coax out of him, "i forget the flavors can be uh, adventurous with most of their dishes. "

you chuckle, "definitely adventurous."

he flags down the waitress from earlier who bats her eyelashes one too many times at him while you roll your eyes. he gives you a glare while he pays, before you can open your mouth. while you get up, dusting your dress down, he presses you flush to him, effectively shutting down any advances. you can't help but grin at the little act. even if your skin is on fire from the contact.

your lead out the back by one of the valets to avoid the busy main section and the endless cameras that wait for you from the front.

you step out to a colder night than you expected, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to warm yourself up. the valet steps away to retrieve his car while you shiver harder than a skeleton animatronic in a halloween pop up store. 

trent notices, coming up behind you to wrap both arms around your waist, pulling you close. 

"cold?" he has the nerve to ask, flush against you and the damn dress that clings against your skin, his breath tickles your ear while you lick your lips nervously. his arms are much more muscular up close. the whole of him is, you can feel the efforts of his training as they hold you. good lord you're going to lose your mind. and the chest you're pressed up against? do not.

"a little." you whisper back, afraid to say much more.  

he hums, rubbing your arms for you, sending goosebumps all the way down your spine, and he has the audacity to chuckle at your reaction. 

"cars gonna be here soon."

you can only nod dumbly.

he unlatches when the car comes into view. thanking the man with a clap on shoulder, almost like an old friend, and a generous tip.

he opens the door for you, holding his arm out to help you balance, sweet of him. 

you duck inside while he says his last thanks and goodbyes to the valet, turning on the heat first thing when he gets inside. 

the drive is silent, not much to talk about after you confessed your love to each other just days before. 

you could almost laugh at the complete 180 from this week to the last. youre so so glad it ended up this way nonetheless. you don't think you could handle another second suffering in silence. 

how it all went down makes you cry in full honesty. it was an argument. over fucking instagram. you were bitching about the girls who are on his dick and he called you over protective and you defended yourself because duh. that somehow had spiraled into how he's insane, and then your relationship. and then you stormed out, don't ask, you don't remember. 

he tracked you down at your place with flowers as an apology and you just lost it, because what kind of friend gets flowers and calls in just platonic?

lucky for the both of you it wasnt platonic, not to him, not to you. 

he confessed first, that you were more important to him than any of the women he follows combined and so much more. you're his everything can't you see that? he loves you, in every sense. he hates seeing you upset so please, don't cry. 

you kissed him, slow and hesitant while he broke out in giggles. 

"does that mean what i think it does ?" he had whispered against your lips. 

you nodded, shy and tender. 

"i need to hear it. please, say it." breathless, at the cusp of losing his grip on everything. 

"i love you trent, more than i think i can explain. you are my other half yeah? my everything."

and so here you are, watching the shapes of the city breeze past you as the gps guides you to your beloved chinese take out. you can almost taste the noodles you're so ready for it you're starving. 

a hand rests on your thigh, softly tracing shapes the rest of the way there and you hide a smile. you don't think you'll ever get used to any of this new found affection. things you once only day dreamed of having now right in front of you.

you're drowsy by the time you pull into the familiar parking lot. you giggle at just how ridiculous the two of you look. stepping out of a probably hundred thousand dollar car, if not more. dressed like you're going to the ballon d'or. all while walking into a quiet little family own take out spot. 

trent takes your hand again, while you fight to bunch up your dress to get over the obnoxious curve. 

he fights a smile while locking the car behind you. 

"you try getting over this mountain in heels and this long ass dress i dare you." you hiss. 

he snorts but keeps his mouth shut as you inside the familiar space. sighing in glee. 

the kind older woman who always takes your orders doesn't bat an eye at your dress, but welcomes you with a warm hug. 

“the usual?” she beams, even at this time of night. cheery as ever. 

“yes please !”

she smiles, getting to work making your order while you drum against your thigh. bad habit. 

you’re very thankful it’s as late as it is, the place is dead empty. a little safe haven. 

you reach into your purse but mr “i’ll pay for it all” stops you. 

you tsk, “come on this is my spot. i want to tip her well. let me at least have this after that fancy meal.”

“i said i would pay,” he states firmly. 

“i know, but paying here is special to me. and i want it to come from my hand. she deserves it after all the kindness she’s shown to me over the years.” you gesture to her wrapping up your boxes. 

you remember when you used to be a student low on cash, she would always fill your plate with double of everything or just give you the next size up, and extra dessert, free drink. the little things, life is all about the little things. 

he sighs, “fine fine. i won’t take this away from you. “

you smile, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. he waits for you on the side while you go up to the counter. 

she smiles at you knowingly, “finally made a move on that one huh?” 

you blush, “we both made moves and things worked out well. “

she grins, “finally. i thought it would never happen, you know. maybe i’ll get to see your kids too huh?”

you chuckle, kids with trent huh. not a bad idea, “maybe you will.” you sigh fondly. handing her the money. 

you hand a few boxes to trent and motion to the door before she catches on. but it’s a little late. 

you sneak out of there while she’s yelling at you to take your change, “keep it ! it’s all for you !!” you shout back. giggling while you and trent make your escape. 

the ride to his house is filled with laughter and you don’t ever remember being happier. 

its all giggles and shy smiles as he leads you up to his home, hand in hand while you race up the steps and make a dash for the elevator. the door man gives you too a look but doesn’t comment, yet. you know he will sooner or later but you don’t care. 

the take out boxes are split in between the two of you as you hold them snug against your chest. humming softly as the elevator opens. 

the ride up is filled with soft teasing, and more compliments. 

"im serious!" he shoves you gently, "you look, incredible." 

your face burns with enough heat to power an oven, his words do a number on you and all you want is to hear them over and over. but you don't say this. 

"you look so handsome trent." is all you find to reply back. 

a shy smile is what you get in return as the elevator opens. the walk is familiar but your feet are making it feel much longer than needed. 

he opens the door and you dont waste a second collapsing on his couch, groaning at the pressure finally being off your feet. he takes the boxes from your hands and sets them on the living room table, kicking his shoes off somewhere as he organizes them just how you like. 

"eat first then change?" he takes a seat next to you. 

you shake your head, "don't wanna ruin the dress."

"alright," he nods

you attempt to get up but your feet are swollen by the looks of it and you could cry at the though of taking another step in these damned heels. 

you reach over carefully to begin the effort of getting them of you but holy fuck is it taking much longer than needed.

"you're taking so long," he groans, scooting down to raise right ankle to rest gently in his knee, hands working slowly. 

you sigh in sweet sweet relief when the intricate lacing finally comes undone and your foot can breathe. he does the same to the left, bringing it up to rest against your right.

 your head falls back against the couch cushions, eyes closed and relaxed. it gives you a moment to really appreciate it all. to appreciate him. 

you crack your eyes open when he gives your leg a gentle tap, all done. 

you swing your feet back to the ground, scooting up closer to him. it's a beat of silence where he watches you, wait for your move. and you press gentle kisses on both cheeks, then nose, one on his forehead, and finally his lips. 

he can't keep his hands to himself at the end, a hand finds your waist, tugging you closer to him, impossibly close. the other cups your cheek gently. 

you won't part till you run out of air, panting gently against each other's skin.

"thank you." you mumble against his lips.

he hums, "anything for you. you know what."

you could reach the clouds like this, could reach the stars.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Chaggie AU where Vaggie is a member of a holy order devoted to slaying monsters. As part of her becoming a holy knight, she must commune with an Angel to be granted their divine power... only something goes wrong with the ritual, and the being that appears before her is none other than the Princess of Hell.

Lute: “Gay?! She’s supposed to be HOLY!”

Adam: “Yeah, hot.”

Lute: “…let. Me. See. That. SuMMOnINg sCRiPTuRE.”

Adam: “Sure thing dude. Here.”

Lute: “This isn’t a holy rite, this is… WRITINGS OF SAPPHO!”

Adam: "Heh, heathen and homoerotic. WLWhoops?"

-

Charlie: “You should really be more careful next time!"

Vaggie: "Uh."

Charlie: "Lot’s of other demons would be thrilled to get yanked into the mortal world without a circle of binding to hold them- especially by someone as cute as you-

Vaggie: "Excuse me?"

Charlie: "And when I say thrilled, I mean in the blood and guts and screaming kinda way, NOT just in the 'can feel hellfire in my cheeks' kinda way. Safe summoning is important!!”

Vaggie: “Why’re you drawing the circle in yourself, then. With your… claws.”

Charlie: “Because you didn’t?” (dusts fire off her hands) “Anyway you should be good now, ask me anything!”

Vaggie: “You’re seriously not taking advantage of being summoned but not bound?"

Charlie: "I'm taking advantage of the view!"

Charlie: (beat)

Charlie: "Of the, mortal world, I am enjoying the pretty scenery."

Vaggie: "It's dark."

Charlie: "I'm enjoying the beautiful knight. Night. Night without a 'K'. Not knight like YOU'RE a knight, not that you aren't beautiful-"

Vaggie: "I'm. What."

Charlie: "The one who should be talking now! Not me. I think I've done enough talking for now. I think I'm good on having said stuff recently. I think I should be quiet for a bit."

Vaggie: (gay) (not immune to adorable ladies) "WHY are you here. You're not, what I expected."

Charlie: “I'm not the usual demon- As hell princess I get first dibs on all summons! After dad anyway.”

Vaggie: (of COURSE she's a princess) “Why answer this one.”

Charlie: “You’re missing an eye? It looks painful?"

Vaggie: "...so?

Charlie: "?? I thought maybe you wanted help with that.”

Vaggie: "It's a penance. You can't help with it."

Charlie: "oh."

Vaggie: “...That’s it? You're not here for anything else?”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “You um. You look very cool in that armor.” (cringes) “Awesome.” (cringes more)

Vaggie: “Are you a siren or a succubus or something.”

Charlie: “What!? No! No I’m just, I just think girls are hot! Cool! You look great!! …girls all look great, and you’re a girl, and you…”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “Do you need any demons slayed?”

Charlie: “Ahaa, no.”

Vaggie: “Holy quests completed?”

Charlie: “No?”

Vaggie: “Are you gonna eat me.”

Charlie: “N-not on the first date- I- OH YOU MEAN ACTUALLY-? No no no! I don’t, I’m, I don’t eat souls. Or people.”

Vaggie: “So what’s the catch here. The price.”

Charlie: “Nothing. I just wanted to help.”

Charlie: “Okay and maaaaybe have a nice conversation for once. Kinda short on them in hell.”

Vaggie: “… is there ANYTHING I can help you with?”

Charlie: “Well I just broke up with-”

Vaggie: “I’ll kill them.”

Charlie: “-and I could really use a date for the ball, I mean! No killing needed!! Dad isn’t going again, mom’s um, busy. And it’ll be a lot less awkward if I already have a dance partner, you know?”

Vaggie: “You want me to find you a dance partner.”

Charlie: “Oh no I, I was hoping- do YOU dance?”

Vaggie: "Me."

Charlie: "If you want to?"

Vaggie: “You’re asking me to go to hell.”

Charlie: “Shit. Right, dumb idea. It’s my home but, yeah. It’s not like anyone enjoys being here.”

Vaggie: (fuck she's cute) (fuck she's SAD)

Vaggie: “No one does? What about you?”

Charlie: “I… just wish the people would be nicer. A place is the people who live there, right?”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “I’ll come.”

Charlie: “You wha?”

Vaggie: “I’ll come to the dance.”

Charlie: "But- hell! Why-"

Vaggie: "Hell’s a better place than I thought."

Charlie: "You've never even BEEN here!"

Vaggie: "I've met you."

Charlie: ".... I'm not... the usual demon."

Vaggie: "I'll take my chances. I'll need to borrow a dress though. All I have up here is, armor."

Charlie: "I can, I can change that. A dress. N- no problem."

Vaggie: "It's a deal then." (holds out hand) "A dance for a dress?"

Charlie: (takes her hand and shakes it eagerly while bowing) "ITS A DATE!"

Vaggie: (chuckles) "Yeah, I guess that's a better word for it."

Charlie: "And I PROMISE when we dance I WON'T trample your toes with my hooves!"

Vaggie: "... should I just keep the sabatons on?"

Charlie: "I promise to find you a dress that goes good with your armored shoes so your toes don't get trampled on."

Vaggie: "We're gonna be quite the pair, aren't we."

Charlie: "Heheh~"

-

Lute: "WHAT HAPPENED WHY WAS THERE FIRE AND BRIMSTONE INSTEAD OF HOLY LIGHT WHY WERE YOU COMMUNING WITH A FIEND SO LONG IS IT DEAD DID YOU KILL IT???"

Vaggie: "Does taking her heart count?"

Adam: "Whoooo VaGEEE! Totally FUCKED that demon huh!!"

Vaggie: "Mm, not totally sir."

Vaggie: (smiling) (softly to herself) "Not on the first date."

[musickgeek]

Shadows [Alastor x Reader]

Enemies to lovers? Warnings: Allusions to death and murder

You and Alastor can't stand each other, but your shadows beg to differ (1.1K)

~~~~~

In life, I was a mastermind of manipulation. A con woman who could sweet talk anyone into anything. I had money, I had influence, I had control. People came to me when they wanted something, but it always came with a price. For some, their lives. Some people just have no respect for the hand that feeds them. They called me the Shadower because they could always feel me watching. I had eyes and ears everywhere. It was only a matter of time before someone else got the upper hand, and shot me right between the eyes. The circumstances of my death make me so angry, I choose not to think of it much.

When I arrived in Hell, my surprise was brief. No doubt that I belonged here, but I didn't expect it all to be real. I didn't expect to have such dramatic changes in my appearance. My teeth became sharp, my eyes crocodilian, my nails became claws. I looked scary, and I liked it. Was I supposed to give my old ways up? Ha! As if. I built my empire from the ground up before, I could easily do it it again with all my knowledge. And now, I had real magic power, and I could really be a shadow. I was accompanied by a sentient shadow, a helpful friend in my business. I had a quick rise to power, becoming one amongst the Overlords.

They didn't seem to know what to make of me, and I was addicted to their intrigue and fear. Who could be next? They didn't dare cross me and find out. I didn't care much for the others besides a general sense of respect for each other's strength. But there was one, Alastor, who I could not stand. His smug smile, his stupid static voice, his ego. He always had to be the center of attention, and just couldn't stand that he was no longer the talk of the town.

"You don't even have your own gimmick."

"Just mad I do it better, Smiles?"

"Ha! Are cheap words the best you've got?"

"Ha ha, at least my words are audible. And I'm not the one with a tacky bow tie."

"Ha ha ha! I hate you."

Despite our animosity, there was one thing we could agree on. It's infuriating how much our shadow creatures love each other. The first time we'd met, our shadows bounded for each other as if they were old friends. His eyes widened in shock, but his smile never faltered. I hardly quirked my eye brows at the scene. It was like two dogs playing at the park. The red demon tilted his head at an awkward angle as he inspected me. "My, my! What a playful friend you have. You must be the new arrival everyone is just buzzing about. I am Alastor, the Radio Demon. I'm sure you've heard of me." He introduced, offering his hand. "Not in the slightest." I said, shaking it. His eye twitched, but his smile widened.

Ever since then, at every meeting, we had to pretend our shadows didn't fly together like magnets. It almost would be amusing if it weren't attached to that piece of shit. I simply don't understand it. Is it comfort in knowing there is another like them? Or is it all just a game to piss us off further? It's hard to tell. Sometimes it seems like they don't notice anyone else in the room, but sometimes they seem like they're sat together, gossiping about us like old ladies. Every time we left each other's presence, they seemed to reach for each other, not wanting to be torn apart. I have no idea if Alastor has noticed it. That would require him to have half a brain.

One night I decided to go to a speakeasy I frequent. I sat at the bar alone, but I could feel the fearful eyes on me. I smile behind my drink. I thought tonight was going to be a good night, but I was wrong. I didn't even know Radio Boy was around until I felt my shadow slipping away. They were dancing freely to the upbeat swing music, having the time of their lives. I scowl, and flag the bar tender for another drink. Maybe if I turn around, I can pretend it's not happening. Alas, the radio static fills the room, overlaying the music. I feel a presence behind me, but I already know who it is. "Alastor." I say, still facing away. "Why (Y/n), I never expected you to have enough class to visit to such an establishment."

"You came all the way over just to say that? You must be more obsessed with me then I thought." I say calmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of me turning towards him. I can feel the comment burning up inside him. I smirk. "I could say the same. It's almost as if you were following me. You must admit, this does seem more my style." Finally I turn around with a shrug. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

His eyes narrow. "An interesting turn of phrase." Our shadows join us, seemingly swirling around people us excitedly. My shadow forces me out of my seat. My glass falls to the floor, shattering, and my body collides with the deer. "Watch it!" I growl at the two incorporeal beings. Alastor seems just as angry, his static getting louder and his limbs growing. I hiss with hostility at the act, letting my claws out. In the blink of an eye he returns to normal. "Coward?" I ask. "No. I simply came here for a relaxing night, not a fight. I can't be ruining my favorite place after all." I notice the bar has mostly cleared out save the employees and musicians. When it looks like two Overlords are about to have a turf war, you don't want to be around if you're the little guy.

The shadows begin dancing along the walls as the music returns. "Hm. Perhaps we should follow their lead." Alastor suggests, holding a hand out in a gentlemanly fashion. "What's your play?" I ask skeptically. "I'm simply suggesting to have a little fun amongst our banter. After all, it's been awhile since I've had a worthy dance partner." I smile coyly at his words, and take his hand. "Alright, but I think this proves who's obsessed with who."

"Keep dreaming, my dear." He says, twirling me to the beat. "Are you sure you can keep up with me?" I ask, matching his rhythmic kicks and skips. "Don't forget who grew up doing this. You don't know everything." For once, our words aren't laced with so much hostility. I guess tonight will be a good night after all.

[ohisms]

↪ ᵀᴴᴱ 𝑀𝐼𝐶𝐾 , ꮲꭲ 2 . (  a  series  of  sentence  starters  from  season  1  of fox's sitcom ,  “ the mick ” adjust phrasing as necessary . )

damn , [ name ] , how many cars can one person crash ?

i can't help it — when i'm behind the wheel , i'm a slave to the power of the machine .

other people worked very hard to buy those cars , and now they're mine .

why you gotta put me in a cage ?

i'm not a rat , okay ?

shut up , you don't know what you're talking about .

i am NOT joking , i don't wanna do this .

guys , we don't snitch . that's it , end of story .

will you listen to yourself ?? "jUsT tElL tHe tRuTh"

[ name ] , you snitch you die !

pretty sure that was already there when i walked up .

how is this good news ?

everyone's gonna call me a traitor , like you .

don't worry about it , it was worth it .

what are you doing tomorrow night ?

just say the words , and it can be yours .

oh , it's like that , huh ? fine .

what was that ? i can't hear you ... you can't breathe ?

you better figure something out , 'cause if you don't — i'll have to go public with this .

that's called extortion , stupid !

those guys are just covering their own asses , they don't even like you .

as easily as i can save you in this world , i can destroy you .

if anybody messes with you , let us know - okay ?

with a dong like that , you'd think he'd be happier .

do i look like i'm playing , [ last name ] ?

oh , your breath reeks of booze .

i hope you have a plan .

i was up all night watching prep school movies in preparation .

there are some real evil illuminati-type vibes in here , right ?

there was a time i could see , and i have seen .

oh , i'm just getting warmed up .

we are but food for worms , gentlemen .

whose burrito did i just step in ?

get out of here , the tv's mine .

what did you do to my shirt ??

how would you feel if i ran around stealing your clothes ?

we had to kill him cause he wasn't a team player .

no more special treatment for you .

i grew up in squalor , i am perfectly comfortable in it .

[ name ] , don't you dare !

didn't know you were gonna be so weird about it .

if you decide that you don't want me around , just tell me and i will go .

you're not the only game in town , buddy , okay ?

you don't know who i hang out with .

jealousy is the reason people hate us .

you don't have to worry about labels , just like who you like .

i hope this is some sort of emergency .

you kept me waiting , so i'm gonna get right to it .

don't make this your thing , this is [ name's ] thing .

suing is how rich white people solve their problems .

i wanted to sing and show you there's nothing to be afraid of .

i'm so nervous for you ... i want to throw up and run away .

you could have me escorted out , but you have no security .

ooh , dark scary room ! you know what they call that in prison ? they call that a blind spot . great place to catch a shiv .

what kind of operation are you running here ?

you didn't do anything wrong . i was the problem , not you .

where i'm from , the guest gets the good seat .

i drink , smoke , lie , steal ... i'm drunk right now .

i will ruin him . please don't let me do that .

i'm not the one doing whatever you guys are doing ... what are you doing ?

i'm not judging , at least he's a hot mess .

it's the wolf's job to eat the sheep , so y'know ... this was bound to happen .

i will RUIN you when we get home .

i'll give it back to you in a minute , you're gonna get it back .

the suit you destroyed cost a grand !

come on , [ name ] . i'll help you get settled .

he can't know it was my idea .

she made her mean bed and she can sleep in those scratchy sheets .

woah , tough day at the office ?

what the hell did you just say to me ?

you are right ... no matter what you say about anything .

we do this all the time , but usually there's some art to it .

this is not nearly as fun as i thought it was gonna be .

you're letting a bunch of nerds pick on you with their computers ?

why don't you just systematically destroy her ?

i can see where this is headed , so i'm just gonna hit the road .

she ripped me open , stuffed me full of devastation and then sewed me back up again .

leave me alone , this is all your fault .

why are they yelling ? are they angry cause they're bad musicians ?

i will never understand your generation .

let me have it . how bad is it ?

do you have any idea what i saw in there ?

you should come and check out what's going on outside , cause i think you'll be pleasantly surprised .

i just want us to be friends again .

it would be such a silly waste of time for someone like me to be mad at someone as insignificant as you .

the truth is , i pity you .

when the universe gives you a sign , it's not up to you to ignore it .

[ name ] gave it to me . it means i'm in charge .

i'm not comfortable with the whole arrangement . where's [ name ] ?

this is outrageous ! i'm getting passed over again ?

i don't have a problem , i'm just blowing off some steam .

you wanna get in on this ?

you deserve to take a time out as much as anybody else .

sorry , i didn't realize you were the fun police .

having money has reaaally changed you .

i've lost control ?! oh no , you dumb , dumb idiot . YOU'VE lost control .

that's a gross overreaction .

i will show myself the door in a ... graceful and classy manner .

thanks for sticking around .

look , i realize i did some questionable things in there .

i just felt like the universe was giving me a sign .

i'm the only one worthy of its power !

keep it in your pants and follow my lead .

it's no offense , i just don't know you very well .

let's go over this one more time , just so we're clear .

we've already been over the terms .

what's in it for you ?

i like the element of surprise .

wasn't expecting that . are you okay ?

i saw a burglar , i didn't know what to do ... so i SMOKED his ass !

you SHOT me ! what the hell's the matter with you ?

that gunpowder's like a hundred years old , it probably just broke the skin .

what about the police ? they're expecting a gunshot victim .

guys , we've gotta move this along , okay ?

you got it , i'll get you a pillow .

you're lucky no one was killed .

here's the thing about the bordeaux ... i drank it .

i'm so sorry that you had to keep our mansion warm .

how do you think the police found them ?

if you're done criticizing me , i think i'll head on up to bed .

you want me to do the jobs no one else wants ?

can we pick this up tomorrow ? i was shot , so ... i'm very tired .

it has nothing to do with that . okay ? now please leave .

i wanted to thank you for having my back earlier .

that had nothing to do with you . i was just trying to hurt them .

it's chloroform . i found a recipe online .

[ name ] , don't come at me with that .

i was gonna do whatever it takes . i'm not a quitter.

i wanna tell you , i really do . but first there's something i need .

oh my god , you're bailing again .

innocent people don't sneak in and out of their own home .

'cause i don't like you , that's why .

i'd rather get mowed down in a hellfire of bullets than listen to you screech .

you don't have to lie . i heard you guys .

how was i supposed to know you were gonna hug me ? i didn't even know you knew how to hug .

[kathlare]

morning roast

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie starts her morning navigating playful interrogation from her friends, Gracie Abrams and Olivia Rodrigo. After overhearing some incriminating details the night before, the two can't resist teasing her about a rekindled romance.

Wordcount: 2.2 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

December 1st, 2023 - New York City, NY

Amelie tiptoed into the kitchen of her New York apartment, her sock-covered feet muffling her steps as the early morning light poured through the windows. Her hair was still slightly messy from sleep—or lack thereof—and she tugged the oversized sweatshirt she had thrown on a little lower, hoping to look more casual than she felt. She could already hear the faint clatter of dishes and low murmurs, signaling that her two houseguests, Gracie Abrams and Olivia Rodrigo, were awake.

She hesitated at the door, willing herself to stay calm. Gracie and Olivia didn’t know yet, but the truth was bound to come out. There was no way her friends wouldn’t suspect something after last night.

Pasting on her best poker face, Amelie stepped into the kitchen.

—Morning,— she greeted, her voice light as she made her way to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee.

Gracie, sitting cross-legged at the breakfast bar, raised an eyebrow, her messy bun barely containing her dark hair. Olivia, perched on one of the stools, smirked over her cup of tea.

—Morning? Really, that’s how you’re starting?— Gracie asked, the corner of her mouth quirking up into a grin.

Amelie froze for a second, the coffee pot in her hand.

—What’s that supposed to mean?— she replied, feigning confusion as she poured the steaming liquid into her mug.

Olivia, always the more direct of the two, leaned forward. —It means we heard you last night, Ames. You and your little “guest.”—

Amelie’s heart dropped, and she turned sharply, nearly spilling her coffee.

—What? You didn’t hear anything,— she stammered, but her cheeks betrayed her, flushing a deep red.

Gracie snorted, exchanging a knowing glance with Olivia. —Oh, we heard plenty. You might want to work on the whole “being quiet” thing.—

Olivia mimicked, her voice lilting with exaggerated moans. —Oh, Lando. Right there. Yes, yes, yes!—

Amelie’s jaw dropped. —You guys are the worst.— She grabbed a dish towel and playfully threw it at Olivia, who dodged it with a laugh.

—No, seriously, Ames. What the hell? When did this happen?— Olivia asked, her tone softening, though her curiosity was still sharp.

Amelie sighed, setting her coffee down on the counter and leaning against it. —Okay, fine. You caught me. It’s Lando.—

—Obviously,— Gracie said, rolling her eyes with a grin. —But aren’t you two... I mean, wasn’t he the guy you swore you’d never get involved with again?—

—Yeah,— Olivia chimed in. —After how things ended the last time, we were pretty sure it was over for good.—

Amelie crossed her arms, bracing herself. —Look, I know how it sounds. And I know I was the one who said I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes, but... this is different now. We’re different.—

Gracie raised an eyebrow. —Different how?—

—He’s serious this time,— Amelie explained, her voice softening. —He flew all the way here just to talk to me. He told me he wants this, us, to work. And... so do I.—

Olivia looked skeptical. —But what about everything before? The distance, the misunderstandings? What makes this time any different?—

Amelie chewed her bottom lip, glancing at the counter before meeting her friends' gazes. —We both messed up back then. I was so focused on work, and he... well, you know what happened. But now we’re actually talking. Like, really talking. We’re figuring it out as we go.—

Gracie sighed, swirling the last of her tea in her cup. —I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, Ames.—

—I won’t,— Amelie assured them. —I know it’s only been a few weeks, but... I really like him. And I think he feels the same way.—

Olivia reached over, squeezing her hand. —Well, if he makes you happy, then I guess we’re on board. Just... maybe next time, give us a heads-up before things get that loud.—

Amelie groaned, burying her face in her hands. —You’re never letting this go, are you?—

Gracie grinned. —Not a chance.—

The teasing continued well into breakfast, Gracie and Olivia throwing playful remarks Amelie’s way every few minutes, clearly relishing her embarrassment.

—You know,— Gracie began, poking at her scrambled eggs with a fork, —I have to give him credit. I mean, it must take real confidence to sneak into this apartment like a teenage boy in a rom-com.—

Olivia chuckled, gesturing with her coffee mug. —Not to mention stamina. You two were at it for hours. I thought I was going to have to blast white noise just to get some sleep.—

Amelie groaned, setting her coffee cup down a bit harder than intended. —Okay, enough! I get it. We weren’t as quiet as we thought. But, for the record, you two are way too invested in my love life.—

—Of course we are,— Gracie shot back, grinning. —You’re our Ames. We’ve got to vet the guy who’s lucky enough to be with you.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. Despite the mortifying conversation, she appreciated how much they cared.

—You don’t need to vet him. You already know him,— she pointed out, leaning against the counter. —It’s not like Lando’s some random guy I just met. We’ve known each other for years.—

—True,— Olivia admitted, crossing her arms. —But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to make sure he’s good for you. You deserve the best, Ames.—

Gracie nodded, her teasing demeanor softening. —And we just don’t want you to get hurt again. That’s all.—

Amelie sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she looked between her two friends. —I know. And I love you guys for that. But this time really is different. He’s not the same guy he was back then, and neither am I. We’re taking it slow, figuring things out.—

—Slow?— Olivia smirked. —Was last night’s noise level part of the slow plan?—

Gracie burst out laughing, nearly spilling her juice. Amelie threw a napkin at her, unable to stop herself from laughing along despite her embarrassment.

—Okay, fine, maybe we’re not perfect at the whole “taking it slow” thing,— Amelie admitted, cheeks still flushed. —But seriously, he makes me happy. And I really think this time it’s going to work.—

Gracie exchanged a glance with Olivia, her playful smile fading into something softer. —Well, if you’re happy, that’s all that matters. Just... don’t let him off the hook too easily, okay? Make him work for it.—

Amelie smiled, a mix of gratitude and amusement in her expression. —Don’t worry. He knows he’s lucky.—

—Good,— Olivia said with a small smile. —But seriously, Ames, you deserve someone who gets just how amazing you are. If he doesn’t step up, we’ll fly to Monaco and handle it ourselves.—

Amelie laughed, the weight in her chest easing slightly. —I’ll hold you to that. Though, knowing Lando, he might just be terrified enough of you two already.—

Gracie smirked. —As he should be. No one messes with our girl.—

The three of them settled into a more relaxed rhythm as they finished breakfast, the teasing tapering off as the conversation shifted to lighter topics—upcoming projects, holiday plans, and the winter break. But even as the laughter flowed easily, Amelie couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in her chest. Her friends’ concern, while a bit overbearing at times, came from a place of love, and she was grateful for it.

After they cleared the table, Gracie leaned against the kitchen island, watching Amelie closely. —So... when are you seeing him again?—

Amelie bit her lip, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. —Probably tonight. He’s staying at a hotel nearby, and we’re planning to grab dinner.—

—Dinner, huh?— Olivia teased, raising an eyebrow. —Just don’t let it turn into another late-night... session. Some of us need our beauty sleep.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the grin that spread across her face. —Noted. I’ll do my best.—

Gracie reached over and gave her a quick hug. —Just be careful, okay? And don’t be afraid to lean on us if you need to. We’re here for you, no matter what happens.—

—I know,— Amelie replied, her voice soft. —And I really appreciate it. You guys are the best.—

Olivia joined the hug, squeezing Amelie’s other side. —We know. And don’t you forget it.—

As they pulled away, Amelie felt a renewed sense of confidence. Whatever challenges lay ahead with Lando—whether it was navigating their past, the public eye, or their own feelings—she knew she wasn’t facing them alone. With friends like Gracie and Olivia in her corner, she felt like she could take on anything.

Even if it meant enduring a lifetime of teasing about last night.

[arminsumi]

i need more gojo fluff🥺💖 he's just so precious

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱

GOJO x f.reader

A/N: of course my beloved, here's a dose of gojo fluff just for u!!! 🥺

♪ NOW PLAYING: i could be your crush

Overview; collegeboy Gojo having the fattest crush on you and being lovably annoying

Content; fluff, crush headcanons

arminsumi's library

— He teases and distracts you all day every day, wearing a toothy smile. It hangs lopsidedly on his face.

— Pinching you is his thing. He loves getting a reaction out of you. "Hey, sweetcheeks." he greets, "Those cheeks lookin' awfully pinchable today."

"Ah, hell no! Suguru save me, Satoru is being annoying again!"

— Snatches up your belongings when you're not looking and makes you beg to give them back while he holds them above his head. Truthfully, this is just his silly excuse to show off his height to you.

— Other ways he shows of his height to you include towering over you and peering straight down into your eyes. He giggles like a jackass when you get flustered.

— His nicknames for you know no bounds. They're corny and cheesy most of the time, like the aforementioned sweetcheeks. There's also; honeybun/babydoll/sugarplum/princess/snugglebunny... the list doesn't end. Some people think you're dating when he calls you these in public.

— The instant your attention detracts from him, he steals it right back with grabby hands. Sometimes he throws a whiny "Why're you ignoring me!" your way.

— He rushes up to you after class with a million things to talk about, and talks so fast that he stumbles and trips all over his words.

— His enthusiasm and lively nature is contagious. He is always, always capable of putting a smile on your face.

— He sneezes on you on purpose.

— When you look especially attractive to him in certain lighting, like when the two of you walk home together after school, he clutches his chest. The fabric of his uniform crinkles and creases.

"What is it?" you ask.

He sighs dramatically. "You're so pretty." is all he can say. "Huh... that sounded so much better in my head."

— Never late for the classes that he shares with you. The rest he absolutely is though 🤭 he's got great bed hair, you can tell he really tries hard to wake up in time to make class

— He pays interest to the things you like. Sometimes you catch him practicing one of your hobbies. "Hey, what're you doing?" you ask and he FREAKS out, "Oh shi– hey! Hi! Not doing anything, why?" it's utterly hilarious; he knocks over stuff, flushing red in the face. You'll never meet someone who blushes as madly as Gojo Satoru.

— Addicted to your company much like he's addicted to sugar. You're another saccharine substance that he can't keep out of his mouth. Ahum... in other words, he is always talking about you to his friends.

— Poor Suguru, he often arrives to class in the morning with bloodshot eyes and hanging eyebags because his best friend kept him on the phone all night about Y/n this and Y/n that

— Gojo loses his mind when you call him Satoru for the first time. He melts each and every time you call him that afterwards.

— Call him hot once, or merely elude to it, and he will hold it to you forever. He winks and infuriatingly responds with "Yeah I know I am." or "Thanks for reminding me." or if he's feeling like flustering you, "Not as hot as you."

But trust that he swoons to his best friend about it. "She said I'm hot... d'you think she likes me?"

[kurosstuff]

RED STRING OF FATE WITH LUTE PLS LOVELY-

🙏🙏🙏

Jk- you don’t gotta if you aren’t able to do it

omf YES- omf twist(like we talked abour-)

making it a bit short since- idk what else to add I hope you like it-!!

Lute x demon!reader: soul mate au

Warning(s): adam- so he talks about his dick(implied?), Don't think really any other then that

You couldn't help but curse Charlie for making you send this letter to these pesky angels. APPARENTLY you have to find some annoying(Charlie's words surprisingly) Man. Adam, the first man. Grumbling, you froze, glancing at the once dimmed red string spring to live a soft sting entering the rope interlocking with your ring finger.

A crude reminder of the dream you wished when alive. Finding a soul mate. Your soul mate but. Never once has it actually been this bright. This beaming light. Snorting at the sick joke. Of course, hell would be playing a sick joke like that. Walking to the tower, you glanced at the paper, the name written exactly who to give this to - entering something odd happened.

The string burned. Yanking you to the room.

Singaling your soul mate is near. Your forever mate. Is near. A dry laugh escaped your throat. What a joke. Entering the room There's no way in hell your soul mate is here-

Your tail flickered in thought before an annoyance flush crept up your face. Staring at the exorcist before your finger burned, looking down at your hand, you watched as the rope burned, going into a straight line to her instead of limp like usual. As if yelling that your mate is her.

Guess this explains why your string never acted up until now. Your soul mates an angel

Oh how cruel the irony is.

-

The more Adam talked, the more drained you got. Does this first man ever talk about anything else other than being the original dick haver? Apparently not. Grumbling, you glanced at the woman beside him- where your string was connected to her - humming in thought

How cruel of am irony that you. A demons soul mate is an angel. And any type of angel, either. An executioner. Who? Treat demons like animals to slaughter - not much different from some demons you knew of- humming you crossed your arms glancing over her mask how to changed depending on how she *felt* what she said- God. Her voice

Blinking, you barely even noticed how Charlie entered the room - just so focused on the masked woman you're bound to. Not even as the meeting began. You just stared in deep thought, humming softly. Before? Your face heated up as she took her mask off-

Hearing her name for the first time from that crude angels lips. How did he manage to get into heaven anyways-? Your thoughts of the matter went away when you locked eyes with her- that cold almost uninterested look but - you could have sworn? Is that a hint of curiosity in her eyes?

Staring at Lute as she spoke- your heart beat faster. Feeling warm all over as if her speaking(which was so fucking hot?) Seemed to relax you- put you in some odd sense of warmth and security. You hummed softly- the red string glowing even more brightly filling your whole hand as if to convey your true feelings for one another-

Before that, Adam guy started to sing - you internally groaned. Is Hell and Heaven just some musical? Blocking him out until she began to sing- humming, you didn't even care of the crude words she spoke of your kind - never mattered in the slightest to you anyways given your a demon-

But damn. Her voice? Was the single most gorgeous thing you've ever heard- staring at her. You ignored how Charlie grabbed your arm on instinct as the executioners came close - Lute came so close to your face - it took everything in you to not lean in as well

"-All vile sinners Like yourself should be slaughtered- can't wait to kill you" she snarled in your face- but that did nothing to change your views. Your heart beat faster as you came to a single conclusion

Your fucked.

[ripdragonbeans]

To Whatever End // HighLord!Aemond x Mate!Reader

For @targaryen-dynasty's February Sleepover!

Btw if you can't tell it's an A Court of Thorns and Roses AU but also this is fanfic

Thank you @exitpursuedbyavulcan for being my beta! ❤️

Prompts: "I just want to please you" // "let me take care of you"

Summary: High Lord Aemond traded himself for his Court to keep those he loved safe. In giving himself, however, he found himself bound to the witch Alys Rivers and committed atrocities to the other Courts. But it's been too long. Much too long. Aemond's mate, his true love, takes fate into her own hands and goes to free him. To whatever end.

CW: blood, character death, smut, consensual kidnapping???, oral f and m receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, 3rd person

Long silver-blond hair. A violet eye. A sapphire in place of the other. Expert swordsman. Magic wielder. Cruel but loyal. Wingspan like no other. Aemond Targaryen, High Lord of the Night Court.

Aemond Targaryen loved his Court. He would do anything and everything to keep it safe, including offering all of himself to a witch. This witch, Alys Rivers, had him on a tight leash. Very rarely was he able to do what he wished. Very rarely was he able to visit his mother, brother, or sister. Worst of all, he was forbidden to see his mate.

His mate, how he loved her so. When the mating bond clicked into place for them it made everything right. Alys Rivers, however, yanked him back as far as she could. She claimed that if he ever tried to go back to his mate she would destroy her and his precious Night Court. So, she kept him at her side; forced him to execute any innocent who dared look at her. Used his magic to raise hell on every other Court but his. The other High Lords thought Aemond to be a lover to Alys. They believed he warmed her bed to have power over them all. Little did they know that was as far from the truth as possible.

Years went by. Then decades. Then centuries. Aemond could stand it no longer. He was wearing down in the most terrible of ways. His resolve was breaking, he was becoming numb, he was beginning to forget his mate, his family, his Court. Every now and then Alys would try to lay with him. She knew forcing him would do nothing, but to make him desperate enough to be with her would break him. She was close to this, too. Her seductive ways had been beating down on him. He was desperate to get out, he was in pain, he felt guilty for even having those thoughts about Alys.

His mate. He needed his mate.

She could feel anguish, his pain, through the bond. It was enough. It had been long enough, too long, she thought. Tonight, she would bring her mate home and destroy Alys.

As she made her way through the halls of the House of Dreams, all she could think of was Aemond. They could never talk through their bond; Alys was able to block that part. The occasional tug from either of them was all that they had to keep them together. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts of Aemond that she walked straight into Helaena, Aemond’s sister.

“Thank the gods I found you!” Helaena sighed in relief. “We just received word that Alys attacked the Winter Court. Apparently, it was out of pure amusement.” The bite in her voice was evident.

“Aemond! Was he -”

“Cregan Stark reported that Aemond was there,” her voice faded down to a whisper, “punishing those who were captured instead of killed.”

The sister’s friend closed her eyes in pain and whispered her mate’s name.

“Helaena, I'm getting him back. We are ridding Westeros of Alys and bringing him back home.”

“When do you go?”

“I am going now. Wish me luck, friend.”

“Wait!” Helaena grabbed her arm. “There are rumors of the Winter Court planning to fight back against Alys; that is why they were targeted.” She looked directly into her eyes. “Destroy her.”

Much like her mate, she had wings. Not as beautiful as Aemond’s and not nearly as big, but big enough to fly her way to the Winter Court. The journey there was long and grueling. She tried to take no breaks and the ones that she did were brief and out of pure necessity. As she got closer to the court, she could feel the mating bond grown in strength. Yes, Aemond was always near to Alys in the Court of Nightmares, but with her focusing on the attack, her magic against the bond has weakened.

She followed that bond, followed it all the way to the Winter Court Palace. It was there she found Aemond, kneeling beside Alys as she sat on a throne, like a dog.

“Look what we have here, Aemond.” She looked the mate up and down. “I thought I told you that if she came here or you to her that I would kill her and all that you hold dear.”

Aemond made eye contact with you. He was pleading for her to leave, to be safe.

The mate said, “No. I'm not leaving you.”

Alys chuckled. “A fight you wish, then? A fight you shall get.”

“I've always been ready to fight you, ever since you took Aemond away from me.”

“Oh, but you won't be fighting me. You'll be fighting my dear pet.” She gestured towards Aemond.

Fear and denial slid over her body like ice. No.

“I refuse to fight him.”

“You see, your refusal would be accepted but our dear Aemond here made another bargain with me.” Indeed, along with the mating bond tattoo there was a new one. One that held him to his word. He believed you wouldn't try to reach him, so he vowed to fight you if you ever showed up as payment of me keeping the Night Court and the other Solar Courts safe.” Her laugh was nails scraping against rocks.

Aemond slowly rose and unsheathed his sword. Every move was painful. He tried to resist but it was futile.

He whispered to his love, “Please, leave. I do not wish to hurt you.”

“You have already hurt me by believing I would not come to you.” She let the pain shine in her eyes. “But I forgive you, Aemond. I love you.” And she drew her own sword.

“Ah, but to make it interesting,” Alys chimed in. “I will release him from his bargains should either of you deliver a devastating blow on the other.”

Hatred coursed through her veins. “You are vile,” she spat.

“That was not part of the bargain!” Aemond yelled.

Alys laughed. “It may not be, but it will still be amusing.”

His love turned to him. “I love you, but if this is what must happen, so be it.”

Aemond slowly raised his sword and readied himself to fight his mate. Just one devastating blow, that would be it. They could be free.

Their fight was a dance. Twirling to block, lunging to attack. Sweeping up into the sky to avoid. Sweat poured down their bodies. The muscles in their backs screamed with pain and exhaustion as they were constantly in the air. It was all they could to not hurt each other. However, while in the air, away from Alys’ prying ears, they made a plan.

Eventually Aemond found his sword against her throat. He pressed against her until pebbles of blood formed. The bond shook.

“I have her and I have drawn blood,” he called to Alys. “Free me, and free her, and free the Courts.”

Alys tutted. “I said a devastating blow, not a threatening one.”

Aemond’s mate looked to Alys then back to him. He whispered to her, “Now.”

She removed the sword from her neck, ignoring the slicing pain as she slid her hand to the hilt and threw it, aimed perfectly at Alys’. Practiced in magic, however, she deflected it with ease.

“How rude! Attacking a spectator!” She glided towards her. “And now you must pay the price.”

“No, you shall.”

Aemond had retrieved his sword to plunge it through Alys’ neck. He mustered all his strength and poured the magic that she had transferred to him when she was against his sword, as well as his, into the attack and sliced Alys’ head clean off. It fell to the ground with a thud.

Black blood erupted from the body, drenching her and Aemond.

Aemond could only look at his mate. “We did it,” he breathed. “She's gone and all the Courts are free.”

“Yes, we are free.”

Aemond took a step. Then another. Then another. Until he was right in front of her. He gently cradled her face with his blood-soaked hands and brought his lips to hers.

“I thought I would never see you again,” she said against him.

He pulled away. “I must tell you more, I never stopped believing in you. But we must inform Cregan that we are all free.”

Back-to-back the couple cut down and remaining soldiers loyal to Alys until they found Cregan in his own battle. The three of them were quick to overpower the opponents.

Cregan turned to Aemond, the fact that he was standing before him without Alys trailing him hit him hard.

“Is she,” he could not bring himself to ask the full question, lest the answer be unsavory.

“She is gone,” Aemond claimed. He opened his wings to their full length. “She is gone, and we are all free.”

Together, Aemond, his mate, and Cregan announced to the Winter Court that Alys was no more.

“We shall rebuild to be stronger,” Cregan said to his people. He turned to Aemond. “We shall unite.”

Aemond’s mate replied for him, “And together we shall rise above the ashes.”

Once the theatrics were over, the two lovers flew back to the Night Court. While they took limited breaks, they stopped right before arriving at the House of Dreams.

Wings tucked in, they arrived at an inn, Rita's, and found a room.

As soon as the door closed behind them Aemond’s lips were on hers. They danced together as though they were never apart. But their hands wandered as though they were strangers.

He slowly slipped her flying leathers off her beautiful body, taking in every inch of her. Every curve, every scar. He crawled up her body and brushed a hand over the now healed scar that branded her neck. Her body stiffened but in pleasure rather than fear. His touch was gentle, sensual.

“Don't worry,” he said, “I’ll take care of you.” And he kissed her gently.

He pulled away and kissed down her body, paying extra attention to the junction between her neck and shoulder, biting it then soothing it with his tongue.

She extended her neck, wanting more. “Please, my love,” she begged.

Aemond smirked against her and continued his way down her body until he came to her chest.

“Gods, I've missed these beautiful tits.”

He was quick to take a hardened bud into his mouth to tease and lick. Her back arched, wanting, needing, more. His hand slid up her body to play with the other nipple, tweaking and flicking it. All she could do was moan.

He switched, giving the other the same treatment with his mouth. She could feel the coil in her stomach tighten. When he was satisfied with her panting, he continued his journey down her body. He stopped at the apex of her thighs. He looked in awe as he gently stroked her folds.

“Aemond -”

He shushed her. “I just want to please you.”

Aemond tentatively brushed her bundle of nerves and watched as she writhed at her touch.

She looked at him, desperate to see him, only to find a devious smirk on his lips.

“Look at you, so wet for me already. Have you missed me that much?” He taunted.

“Yes, of course I've missed - gods!”

His mouth was upon her, his nose rubbing against her as he feasted upon her. All she could feel was him. All that mattered was him. She closed her eyes in ecstacy as the coil within her threatened to snap.

“Aemond I'm going -” she was cut short by her own wordless scream. A wave of pleasure crashed down upon her.

Aemond, however, kept feasting on her. He did not want to stop. She tasted divine and he needed more. Her hips bucked up with each lick. The pressure of pleasure began to build up again. He then moved to suck on her bud and plunged two fingers into her wet heat. The change itself was enough to bring her over the edge again. Only then did Aemond lift his head up. Her slick coating his mouth. She reached for him and kissed him deeply.

“Now it is my turn.” She nipped at his ear.

She stripped him of his clothes and ran her hands all over his body. Up and down her hands went, taking it all in, until she got to his length.

It had been so long since she had seen it; she forgot how big and thick he was. He was already hard and his tip was red and weeping. As she ran her hand over his cock he bucked his hips up, racing for more.

His love obliged by sinking down and taking him into her mouth. He groaned as she began to bob her head up and down, tongue swirling around.

“Fuck, my love!”

She hummed in response, earning another groan from him. She could feel he was close and was ready to take his seed, but he pulled out.

Aemond pulled her into a searing kiss. “I am going to finish in you. Not in your mouth but in your hot, wet cunt.”

His language sent a thrill down her spine.

“Face down, ass up,” he ordered.

She complied, excited for what was to come next.

She felt him shuffle behind her. In one swift motion he sheathed himself fully inside her. They both moaned at the feeling of the other. Taking their time, they just stayed there like that.

Until Aemond began moving his hips.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he ground out.

He picked up speed, fucking her into the mattress. She moved along with him, wanting him to be as deep as possible within her.

Aemond’s thrusts soon became sloppy, his rhythm uneven. With each motion of his cock her pleasure began to crest.

“Aemond, please I'm going to -”

“Together. I want us to finish together.”

With one final thrust, she screamed as she tightened around him, triggering his own orgasm.

They collapsed on the bed, his cock still inside her. Together they stayed there until Aemond pushed himself up to grab a wet rag to clean them up. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before wrapping his wings around her.

I am yours and you are mine, Aemond sent down the bond.

To whatever end, my love, she sent back.

She pulled him down into another searing kiss, this one promising that they would not be separated again.

[denial-permanente]

You often mentioned that to start off Etsy/ Amazon etc offer cheap Chinese copies of devices which are good to get an idea of what fits.

My thought has always gone to the health risk that there is in buying anything that comes from China and is cheap. Do you have any advice on how to avoid stuff made of harmful plastics/covered in toxic chemicals?

🔏 Okay, buckle in, we're going for a ride.

Very few people in our consumer society know how anything is made. I'm not joking. Even the simplest items most of us buy are mass produced. When I was growing up, most kids had been to "the factory in town" on a class trip to see things produced. I have seen dozens of different kinds of things being made, from baked goods, to bottled soft drinks, to wine, and of course, to manufactured goods (consumer and industrial products). Now, nobody sees these anymore, and no body gets to have any underlying k edge of how things are made, or how good, ie, quality products differ from crappy consumer items. Hell, most schools no longer have regular shop class anymore (I'm told it's a liability 🙄).

All that is a lead up to this: most consumer driven products (like plastic chastity cages) coming from China are cheap because a) they did not have to so k any mo ey I to development costs, and b) the products are cheap enough so that most people don't care if it breaks, and c) most people can't tell the difference between an okay product and a high end one. A $10 crappy product might have sharp edges and burrs, while an okay $30 product won't. But few people will notice or care about the difference between the $30 cage and the $130 or even the $300 cage.

Now, that said, I am wearing a Chinese made A272 cage that I bought about seven or eight years ago, and have been wearing steadily (and now permanently) since. Did I get lucky? Maybe. I've bought other Chinese stainless steel cages just to test them out, and most were junk. And even this particular cage came with a crappy knockoff Burg Wachter ME/2 barrel lock. I ended up buying a few more, better quality locks as backups.

Okay, I got that off my chest. 😅

Here's the problem with buying those cheap Chinese cages: you can't tell what you're getting. The Cobra knockoffs have been reported to have color dye that irritates some people. The locks will probably need to be replaced with decent ones. The molds will probably leave the cages with sharp edges that could irritate sensitive skin. And don't even get me started on the quality of the plastic. Many years ago I bought a cage that was advertised as stainless steel. The cage was, but the rings were cheap metal with chrome plating. That would have been a major reaction for a lot of other guys.

So while I do suggest that some people experiment with the cheap cages in order to get a feel for what works, I also follow that up with suggesting that when they figure out what works, to use that information to help pick out a quality cage. A few months in and out of a crappy cage will probably not poison you; the harmful chemicals in those plastics are fairly well bound up.

And until Consumer Reports starts reviewing them, then about the best you can hope for is reading the various discussion groups to glean whatever information you can.

[rillils]

do you ever think abt how we couldve seen more of nomad steve

NOMAD STEVE MY BELOVED

ohhh we were robbed, honey, in so many ways! imagine what we could have had!

- more footage of this man, luscious lovechild of hercules and adonis, most glorious chunk of deliciousness, sexy teddy bear man, the mane of a lion and the eyes of a puppy, mr Dirtied Up Good™, holy shield straps of sex, elected man with the sluttiest forearms of 2018 through 2024

- more of this Steve, who ain't playing dancing monkey for anyone anymore, who ain't asking for permission and/or forgiveness from anybody, who isn't taking anybody's shit, he just wants to fight for what he feels is right and he's not going to apologize for that, thank you very much

- his developing friendship with both Sam and Nat! them fighting like a unit! trusting each other, leaning on each other! learning more about each other! actually getting to know Steve, and his fun side, and his darker side, and his brooding side, and his silly side, and nagging him when they know he needs help but he's just too damn stubborn to ask for it

- FOUND FAMILY FOUND FAMILY FOUND FAMILY

- the three of them trying to comfort each other, each in their own (sometimes clumsy/awkward) way when a mission goes wrong, learning random words from random languages from one another (especially swear words they might have picked up in their respective times abroad lol), watching old sitcoms in their downtime, laughing together, hell even crying together, sharing too little space for too long, complaining about each other's unwashed socks, and still falling asleep on top of each other

- the few times Sam got to call his parents from a safe location. can you imagine Steve talking on the phone with Mrs Wilson? scared at first that she'll tear him a new one for putting her son in so much danger and dragging him away from home? but her knowing all too well that nobody's ever been able to make Sam do something he didn't want to do, that this was his own decision? and she's not actually mad at Steve, she just wants to make sure that "all of you kids are alright"? can you imagine Steve holding back tears the first time he hears a mother's voice talking to him, reminding him to be careful, to stay safe, after so long without it? do you think I'm crying???? I AM

- THE SKYPE CALLS WITH BUCKY

- actually EVERY SINGLE KIND OF INTERACTION WITH BUCKY, even when he's not there. Steve gazing longingly at a picture of Bucky, either physical or digital, that he makes sure to keep on him at all times. taking it out when he's lying awake at night, and everything's quiet except for Sam's snoring and the muffled sounds from the streets, and Steve thinks he saw Nat's eyes watching him in the dimness, but neither of them are going to say anything. he's just sitting in the dark, picture in hand, twirling some secret worry around in his head and missing Bucky so much it hurts. and those times (although he tries to keep these to a minimum) when he just can't help himself: he sneaks out of the room and calls Bucky, just to hear his voice. to listen to Bucky speak softly to him, his voice a little rough from sleep, but always so warm, so sweet for him. and Steve just leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes, and imagines he's curled up into Bucky's side, his head resting on Bucky's shoulder, with Bucky's fingers carding through his hair, and it's only then that he finds a little peace again

- all the videocalls with Bucky! the playful banter!! them arguing like an old married couple one moment, and exchanging the most besotted looks the next! Nat and Sam having to put up with all of their old-men-in-love shenanigans, and Steve never hearing the end of it lol

- Steve!! literally bounding out of the quinjet like an excited puppy when they visit his husband Bucky in Wakanda!!! overjoyed and not even bothering to hide it anymore after like the second or third time, 'cause everybody knows by now anyway!!

- all of them actually getting to rest for a while, and Steve enjoying his impromptu honeymoon with Bucky, savoring each day like it's both the first and the last of their life together, love sparkling in his eyes, happier than he's ever been before, finally free, ironically, now that he's an outlaw and a fugitive, and finding utmost delight in that knowledge

WE WERE ROBBED BLIND, HONEY

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst, feeling broken and utterly helpless to the point of depression, wanting to die

Summary: You're still reeling from the aftereffects of getting your soul back. It's safe to say you're not doing okay. Amara has a bigger effect on humanity than you thought she would, so while you're picking up the pieces she left behind, pieces of yourself are slowly chipping away.

Season Eleven Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

"Are you real?" you ask in a small voice. "Or is my mind playing tricks on me again?"

Amara steps closer to you and grabs your hand to prove to you that she is real this time.

"I assure you; I am very real." She takes a step back from you. "I know what you've done."

"Don't," you say sharply. "Don't try and make me feel better."

"I won't," she shrugs.

"So, what happens now?"

Amara looks around the black smoke tornado with a smile. She seems almost at peace. I wonder what that feels like. I'm so tired. She clasps her hands in front of her and looks at you.

"I like it here and thanks to you, you're going to make it so much better. I will come for you when the time is right, and you will be ready for me when I ask."

Before you have a chance to respond, she's gone, and darkness befalls you. Dean has a hard time seeing through the thick black smoke but he won't give up until he finds you and Sam. He pushes against the wind and tries to walk but it's no use. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he turns to see you standing in front of him.

"Y/N?"

"Guess again."

"Amara?"

"I see Y/N's been talking about me," she smiles.

"What the hell is going on?"

"As I told Y/N, I like it here with you and her. I haven't felt this peaceful in a long, long time," she sighs and closes her eyes.

"Let's get something straight. I'm not here to bring you peace. I know what you are."

"Really? I've been gone so long, I didn't think anyone remembered."

"Death painted a hell of a picture."

"Would you really destroy me? Your wife?"

"You're not my wife," Dean's voice hardens as he takes out a knife. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"You need me. Y/N needs me. She'll die without me."

Dean knows she's lying but he can't help but take some truth to her words. You're very fragile right now and you might be on the verge of destroying yourself. You might need Amara even if you don't know it.

"If you're as bad as they say you are, why haven't you hurt me?"

"For the same reason that you'll never hurt me." She pulls down the collar of her dress to show the Mark in the same spot you had before. "We're bound, Dean, almost the same way as Y/N and I are. We'll always be bound. You help me. I help you. No matter where I am or who I look like, we will always help each other."

Before Dean has a chance to respond, Amara is gone, and darkness befalls Dean. He opens his eyes seconds later and the sky is as clear as it can be. He's lying in a field of sunflowers, and he sits up in confusion. Sam comes over the top of the hill looking around frantically.

"Sam?"

"Dean! Thank God. You disappeared."

"Where's Y/N?"

"Right here." Dean looks to the right and sees you sitting up in the same field of sunflowers. "Where's the car?"

"About a mile that way," Sam says and points behind him. "You two disappeared the second the Darkness hit the car. Do you not remember any of this?"

"She saved me," Dean says.

"What? Who?"

"Amara." You get up and dust the dirt off your pants. "I don't trust her for a single second. You don't know what it was like to have her in your head all the time. She's not good."

"Wait a second. What do you mean, she saved you?" Sam asks.

"You were there. When the storm hit, everything went dark."

You three begin the walk back to the car.

"Yeah, but you just disappeared from the car."

"I don't even remember that."

"Well, I don't remember some woman pulling you out."

"What do you want me to say, Sam? I was in the car and then I wasn't in the car. I was in the field and she was there."

"She told you she was the darkness?"

"No, she was wearing a name tag," Dean rolls his eyes. "What do you think? She thanked me."

"For what?"

"For setting her free. You might have done the spell but Y/N and I had the Marks. We all had a part to play. We all set her free."

"Does she feel indebted to you or something?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. She's a Darkness. Does she feel anything?"

"That's all she said? Thanks?"

"Yeah, it was weird. What did she say to you, Y/N?"

Both brothers look at you and you shy away from their gaze. You think back to her words. I will come for you when the time is right, and you will be ready for me when I ask. You're her vessel. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she'll want to possess you down the line. What if you're not ready? What will she do then?

"I don't remember," you mumble.

"You don't remember?"

"That's what I said," you snap.

"Great. We know Jack shit," Sam sighs.

The car is still stuck in the pothole Dean got into before the Darkness hit. Dean, however, doesn't notice as he is talking.

"No, we know what she looks like and that she's evil. The question is, what does she know? I mean, she's been locked away since the beginning of time. Does she even know what a cheeseburger is?" Dean opens the driver's side door and gets into the car while you and Sam stay out of it. "All I know is that we set her free, and we're gonna put her back in, no matter what it takes." He turns the car on and tries to lurch forward but can't because of the pothole. He looks at you and Sam with an eye roll. "What the--were you two just gonna let me get in the car?"

"You were on a roll," Sam shrugs.

Sam and Dean get the car out of the pothole before you three begin the journey back to Kansas. Sam lets you have the front seat so he can stretch his legs in the back, but all you can focus on is the pounding headache.

Sam is done dealing with the rabid woman and finds you three outside. He raises his gun at Cole from behind, and Dean immediately tries to shut that down.

"Put it down. Sam, put it down!"

Cole turns around to face Sam, and he points the gun at him.

"Shoot him, Sam," you urge. "He was gonna kill your brother."

"Put it down, Sam!"

"Shoot him, Sam!"

Seeing your life being played out like this is torture. You hate yourself. You hate the person you were. I can't do this. I can't be here. You're not the person to resort to violence.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"Fine," you say with a clipped voice.

Dean wants to ask more questions but what he sees out the windshield is enough to shock him into silence. You look up and see what he and Sam are staring at. Dead bodies. Everywhere. Construction workers had the road split into two to do some road work but they're all lying on the ground, dead. Cars that were on the road have families and individuals that are also dead. Dean parks and you three get out to inspect the gruesome scene further. Each person has black marks on their necks and you're not sure if that's what killed them. If not, then what did? There is a family of three in one of the cars, and there is a small child in the back with her head to the glass. All three of them are dead. You look away painfully.

"What the hell happened here?" Dean asks.

A noise sounds from behind you, and you turn to see a construction worker walk out from behind one of the construction vehicles. He has black vein-like marks on his neck and he doesn't look friendly. Sam and Dean immediately raise their guns while you stay behind them with your arms wrapped around your stomach.

"Oh, that's not a happy sight," Dean mumbles. "Hey, easy, buddy. Just stay cool till we figure out what's going on here, okay?" The man doesn't answer but keeps walking toward the brothers as if he's not scared of the guns. "You are kind of narrowing my options here."

"We don't even know what he is," Sam whispers.

A shot rings out and the guy falls to the ground, dead. Behind him cowering behind a police car is a young female officer with a shotgun in her hands. Sam and Dean move their guns to aim it at her but she isn't backing down.

"Weapons on the ground. Slow."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, officer. We're FBI, okay? We got badges."

Sam and Dean try to reach into their pockets, but she cocks the shotgun, causing the empty shell from the previous shot to fall out.

"Don't! Show me some skin. All three of you!"

"Excuse me?"

"Your throats! I need to know you're not one of them."

"One of what?"

"Let's go!" she yells.

You, Sam, and Dean pull down your collars to expose your necks which are free of the black marks. Once the officer sees this, she sags against the car in relief. She limps to the front, and you can see the wound she has on her side. Half her side is practically drenched in her blood.

"Good. Let's see those IDs."

"Whoa, take it easy, okay? Did the bad guys do that to you?"

"Rebar. I sought cover and fell."

"Y/N, can you heal her?" Dean asks.

Sam and Dean look at you but you can't move from your spot. You look at your hands but no magic comes from them. The thought of using your magic puts you into a paralyzing fear. The same magic that was used to hurt and kill people. I'm a killer. I'm a monster. I don't deserve to live.

"I can't," you whisper and step back from them.

"It's okay," Dean says to you before turning to the officer. "Why don't you tell us what happened, Officer?"

"My name is Jenna. Dispatch reported a family in distress. I arrived to find several hostiles attacking said family. Oh, God, it was horrible."

"How long have you been on the job?"

"Three weeks," she winces.

"Okay. I'm Dean, this is Sam and that's Y/N. Just breathe, okay? What happened here?"

"They killed them all."

"Who?"

"The road crew. It was like they were rabid dogs. I fired off a warning shot but they didn't stop."

"You killed all of them?"

"I knew some of the boys, but they didn't look... Something was wrong. They weren't human."

"I can stitch that up but it's going to be ugly. Is there a hospital around here?"

"Up the road."

"Okay, let's go."

Dean and Sam get Jenna into the backseat of the Impala where you join her. She winces when she moves, and you can't help but feel guilt for not being able to help her. You turn your head to look out the window instead of at her. Anywhere but at her. When you get to the hospital, you see dead bodies on the ground. It's like a dead ghost town. It's like people were going about their days when they suddenly dropped dead where they stood.

"Well, this is encouraging." He looks at Jenna through the rearview mirror. "Wait here."

"So, what are you thinking?" Sam asks when you three step out.

Dean walks to the trunk to grab some weapons while Sam takes one of the fallen wheelchairs by the ER entrance.

"I don't really know what to think. I don't know what to expect either, so I'm just gonna chuck it all in."

"This is the darkness, right? It's got to be."

"We didn't end up like that and we were in contact with her."

"Yeah, but I was in the car and you two were... You said she protected you. So, maybe this wasn't her. Maybe it was the smoke and anybody who was outside, like the road crew, was exposed. I mean, you saw that. That wasn't human."

"Are you saying smoke mutilated them? Sure, why not? Just a couple of hours ago, I killed Death. I'm pretty much open to anything." Dean pauses. "Mutated into what?" Sam shrugs. "Okay, one thing at a time. Let's just get her some help and then we'll deal with whatever comes next."

Sam helps Jenna out of the car and into the wheelchair, and the four of you head inside the hospital. It's even worse inside. Dead body after dead body, and blood everywhere either from gunshot wounds or claw marks from nails.

"I got to call this in," Jenna says.

"No, bad idea. More people, more bodies. We'll deal with this."

"You know what, Dean, I'm gonna take a look around. You sew her up."

Dean nods and Sam breaks off from the group to explore on his own. Jenna points to the place where it would be best to sew her up, one of the trauma rooms. She hops onto the bed and removes layers of clothes until she is in her white undershirt. She lifts the shirt to expose the wound while Dean gets real medical equipment to sew her up.

"Can you heal her?"

Dean looks at you to see you staring at the dead body on the ground with unshed tears in your eyes.

"Stop! What are you doing?"

Dean runs over to Cole and grabs the knife from his hand, pushing him away. Cole knocks into the table and falls on his ass, and that's enough to break him out of his trance. Dean drops the knife and walks over to you with an angry look on his face.

"You're not doing this here." He grabs your shoulders in a tight grip and pulls you into him. "Not now. What the hell is the matter with you?"

You turn to look at the stranger who looks around in a confused daze. Your eyes shine red as does his, and he grabs the knife Dean dropped on the ground. He stabs himself in the neck where his carotid artery is, and he falls to the ground in a pool of his own blood. You push Dean away from you and grab his jaw as tightly as you can. He struggles to get out of your grip but you hold him close so he can't.

"Just because I'm legally married to you and you're the father of my children does not mean I won't hesitate to put a bullet through your head. That's strike two. Don't let it get to three."

A single tear escapes your eye but you're quick to wipe it away. Dean notices this and decides it's best if he does this himself. You're falling apart and you can't slow down the descent into madness. You want to curl up into a ball and cry until all the water is gone from your body. Please make it stop. It hurts so much. I deserve this pain.

"Okay, this is going to hurt like a son of a bitch."

"Just do it," Jenna nods. Dean slaps on some gloves before threading the curved needle into Jenna's skin. She winces but takes the pain like a boss. "I knew those boys' sisters and their parents."

"You did what you were trained to do."

"They don't train you to shoot your friends. I panicked."

"Those boys weren't boys. They were monsters and they were a threat. Anybody could have panicked. Not anybody could have done what you did."

"This job is supposed to be saving people."

"Yeah, well," Dean looks at you, "it sounds better on paper, doesn't it?"

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[banquetwriter]

this might be too angsty 😭

but can you do one where the reader has chronic anxiety and is literally house bound most of the time because of how bad it gets and johnnie just helps them through it

୨୧ brittle breathes ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ panic attacks, extreme anxiety 

summary: ʚ reader’s chronic anxiety binds them to their house but Johnnie is able to save them ɞ

Words: 1452

An: sorry it's taking me so long to write i can't help it lol 

SUPPORT ME

Every day has felt the same to you. You wake up and immediately doom scroll on your phone. Your brain is hyper-fixating on every bad comment you receive. You eventually get off Twitter and turn on YouTube. The torment doesn't end there.

You turn on someone who has consistent uploads, better looking than you, and overall is just better at your job. You feel so sick. Constantly nausea, your hands and feet are freezing, and your brain seems like you mushed it into pieces. 

It had been weeks since you had last uploaded on your channel. It wasn't so bad at first. You felt less anxious at home so you just stayed in more. Unfortunately, it has its talons in you. You could never leave the house anymore.

You were sitting on the couch in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. You hadn't gotten ready in weeks either, posting the occasional post on your Instagram story of something random. 

It wasn't like your fans hadn't noticed, hell everyone in your life had noticed. Your boyfriend Johnnie had asked what was going on with you lately, and he saw it. Of course, he saw it. The light in your eyes slowly dimmed. 

The way you wouldn't do anything anymore. Your interest didn't excite you anymore, you never ate anymore, and the most worrying thing was you'd stopped hanging out with him. 

He knew how hard anxiety could be on a person and how he wanted to help but he also knew how fragile people can be in this head space.

You had dried tears staining your cheeks as you scrolled through Twitter. You were looking at any tweet with your name involved in it. You were just a sad little lump on the couch. It was pathetic really. 

Your heart jumped as a notification went through that Johnnie started a live stream on Twitch. You had forgotten he was going to stream tonight. You clicked on it saying hi in chat. 

“Ahh fuck my settings are all messed up hold on guys,” Johnnie mumbled moving closer to his screen and clicking around. You giggle watching his fans say hi to you in chat. “Alright sorry guys,” he says, sitting up and looking at the chat. 

“Wait, is y/n in chat? A bunch of people are saying hi,” he says looking at the chat zoom bye. You smile to yourself already feeling calmer just by listening to his voice. “Yes, I am ¯\_(ツ)_/¯” you type in the chat. You watch him read the chat and smile to himself. 

He hides his blush by putting his hand over his mouth. The whole interaction made you giggle. He was the only thing that ever made you feel good anymore. You knew that wasn't healthy but you couldn't help it. You texted a black heart emoji to Johnnie.

You sat and watched the stream for a bit longer at some point while Johnnie stopped for a second to respond to your text. ‘Love you nerd’ he said with a heart emoji as well. He smiled down at his phone before realizing he was still streaming and had to keep them entertained. 

He came to a slow point in his stream so he looked over at his chat. “Why isn't y/n posting?” he asked, reading a fan’s words. Your heart skipped a beat. “Um, they are just having a hard time right now. They will be back soon though don't worry,” he answers, it was a true statement.

It just stung that your fans were reaching out to him about you. Johnnie would never make you feel guilty about this of course he understood, it's just you felt like such a burden on him because of this. 

You snapped back into reality, Johnnie had continued his stream and the chat slowly moved on from the topic. You had to do something about this. It was consuming your life.

You swiped away from Twitch and pulled up your messages with Johnnie. ‘Can you come over after the stream?’ you asked. If you were going to get out of this you were going to need help to do it. You had the stream pulled back up again. 

Johnnie was looking down at your phone. ‘I will get an Uber right now.’ was a text Johnnie sent you. You sat up reading the message on the top of your screen. “Hey guys I'm actually going to have to end stream early,” he said looking up from his phone.

You watched the chat as they started to freak out at the sudden end. Well, this wasn't how you wanted things to go. “Everything is ok. I just realized I have something to do.” he murmurs closing all the tabs on his computer going to full screen.

You turn the stream off, your heart pounding. Guilt flooding your veins. You stood up only worsening your dizzy state. You fumbled into the kitchen grabbing a glass of water. You failed, however.

You never made it to the sink. Your brain is racing and your mind is melting. A panic attack flows over your bones and into your soul. Your phone is lost somewhere you don't remember. 

Your breath in rapid paces as you can't make anything out. The lack of oxygen fuels your state. Tears start to pool out of your eyes, you start to sob. The crying mixed with the rapid breath causes you to lose all the air you had.

You can't breathe anymore. Any semblance of being able to return to normal is gone. You fall onto your hands and knees scratching at your throat in immense panic. You try to scream or kick or anything that can save you. 

You don't even hear when Johnnie uses the key you gave him to enter your home. Finding you thrashing on your kitchen floor, tears falling from your eyes. “Y/n?” he yells dropping to the floor with you. 

“What's wrong?” he yells trying to see your face. He manages to grab the side of your face and hold it up. “Can't… breathe,” you mumble, your face starting to lose color. 

“You're ok,” he says looking at you. He isn't able to say it with much conviction. His words betrayed his face as it flooded with worry. You try and fail to return your breathing to normal. Johnnie sees you struggle. 

“Try and follow mine,” he says, unsure of how to help you. You nod your head trying to listen to his breathing. It wasn't any use if you couldn't hear him properly. You hold your hand on his chest, you can feel his exhale and inhale. You could feel his lungs fill with air. 

You tried your best to mimic him. Closing your eyes eventually works. Eventually, you feel your worry melt away, like snow when the weather warms up. It leaves and melts from your body.

Your body relaxes and the tension falls. Johnnie watches as you slowly return back to normal. He brings his hand up to your face and holds you close. You lean into his touch. Your body is slouching.

He wraps his arms around you, holding your body up. “Johnnie?” you ask quietly. The tiredness ebs its way into your body. “Yeah? I'm here. I'm here.” he says slowly. “I need your help. Or someone's I'm not sure. I don't think I can trust anyone else with this.” you whispered to him.

“What's wrong? What can I do?” he asks, moving the hair that fell into your face away. “I have been rotted away by anxiety. I can't leave my house, I can't eat, I cannot do anything anymore. I haven't posted in god knows how long.” you cry standing up and away from him.

He sits up to watch you pace through your apartment. “I can't eat or sleep or talk to anyone without my entire world collapsing. Which isn't helping, it's just making me more anxious.” you cry, pulling at the sides of your face in frustration. 

“What can I do? How can I help you?” he asks while walking up to you. You stop your pacing, before abruptly pulling him into a hug. “I need to start seeing a therapist or something else, I need you to help me,” you whispered into his ear. 

He pulls away, only a little, to see your face. “We can do that for you. I'm sure it's going to get better if you start slowly, ok?” he whispers back. You smile at him sweetly. 

It was going to be hard but little by little you were going to take your life back. You were going to be able to do it with Johnnie. 

[lasandra]

Super Massive End Game Veilguard Spoilers Under the Cut!

Seriously. If you haven't finished playing Veilguard, DO. NOT. READ. So I finished DA:tV and I have been really trying to sort out my thoughts... And well...

Sdlkajshdfklajhsdfklajhsdflkjahsdklfjhaskldfjhaskldfhj I CAN'T!!! My dudes I am SO conflicted!!! Solas is the only character I have ever come across that I both love to pieces and want the best for him but I also want to beat him until he is a puddle of bruised yolk and cracked shells. This dude KILLED VARRIC FOR REALSIES! I am not okay with that. My Hawke's GOING to hunt him down when she finds out. If the Tevinter Magisters can get into the Black City then dammit so can she. And when she does, I am not sure even Lavellan can save him. Amelia (My Hawke) has lost so many of her friends/family/loved ones she can't handle this anymore. He also killed God's gift to elves Felassan. It's been over a decade since I read The Masked Empire but I don't remember there being a great reason other than him being upset that Felassan failed. Dude has GOT to stop killing his friends lol. Especially the hot ones. Like. Come on. As if that wasn't enough, he manipulated Rook. I love my first Rook (Carwyn de Riva) so much that I am STRUGGLING to play another playthrough with any of the other Rooks I had planned. To see that he manipulated her with blood magic... Stopped her from being able to mourn Varric with the others properly.... AND tricked her into that prison??? He didn't think she'd be able to get out. Luckily she had plot armor because if she hadn't gotten out I would find a way into Thedas to rip him apart myself. *Aggressive breathing noises* I feel very normal about this, obviously. Seriously though, guys, I came THIIIIIIIS close to tricking him with the fake dagger even knowing that Lanaya (my Lavellan) wouldn't have gotten her happy ending. JUST so I could see the LOOK on his face when he realized ROOK outplayed him at his own game! At the SAME time however... The idea of sending him into the Black City alone... hurts me lol! I don't want him to suffer. Dude has suffered a lot and honestly, I'm not entirely sure his being a friend-murdering ass is *entirely his fault... The longer I sit with everything, the more certain I am that Solas didn't really have a choice. Seems very much like he was sort of bound to the will of Mythal. Maybe I've missed something, I'm not as lore-savvy as I once was. But in the end when Mythal tells Solas that she releases him from her service and only THEN (NOT when Lavellan BEGS him to stop) is he willing to do the right thing? I don't know. It just reminded me SO much of his personal quest in Inquisition where his Wisdom Spirit friend had been bound and twisted against its purpose. If it works anything like what we saw in Inquisition with whoever drank from the Well of Sorrows, who's to say when something was him vs the will of Mythal? It could be a bit of a stretch but, there's certainly room for that interpretation, I think. And if that's the case, then he doesn't deserve the hell that awaits him. It's also the only interpretation I can really accept Lanaya still wanting to be with him. Varric was her friend too. While forgiveness is something I give freely, I cannot imagine reconciling with a man who did what Solas did without him having been essentially forced into doing it. *Sighs deeply* I saw the different versions of his endgame images... Shit man. The only way this man gets a happy ending is with Lavellan. Dude looks so miserable and gloomy in all the other endings. Moire (Trevelyan) was Solas' friend. She wouldn't want to send him off to be alone in such a terrible place. That would seriously eat at her. (Rook wouldn't care. Her give a damn was busted after he betrayed her for the twenty-billionth time.) It can never be anything but a complete and utter rollercoaster with this man! I do think that the ending I got with him was as good as it possibly could have been though, given everything. Sorry for this really poorly written rant. I needed to get this out of my system and it's almost 3am lol.

[gomzdrawfr]

want to join the fandom cause it seems fun seeing fanarts and you and others interacting but I don't know how...and with the whole ai thing im scared...

my advice: just do it

really! sometimes all you really need is a leap of faith, and that was exactly how I dropped into the cod fandom. When I joined the ghoap discord server I talked to one of the artist I really like and respected from my lurking time (hi @bressynonym) aaaand the rest is history

I didnt know how to draw properly, nor digitally, all I did was scribbling on OneNote (yeah!) and rambled about cod characters, it is daunting and it is scary to interact but after a while? you may just be able to find someone to brainrot together with

start small, like commenting, reblogging, talking, chatting- doesn't have to be towards artist/writers, it could be the art/fic enjoyers!

you need to put yourself out there if you want something

as to if you want to start in the fandom as a creator, here's some more tips (which are all based on my experience, I am no pro at doing this, hell Im still learning myself, and I am by no means speaking these on behalf on others!)

establish a goal: what are you making? fandom based? original creations?

as with starting new, everything may take a while for stuff to happen, you'll feel like you're speaking to the void at times (esp with original arts, but do know that your stuff do get perceive by others as time goes, I would advise to draw fandom stuff as a beginning to get that boost going if you want! or else it's going to be quite hard to get things rolling)

imo this is hardest part of any new creator, you'll have to bear with it and try not to give up (but I understand how incredibly demotivating it could get, there were times when I stopped posting about Raven entirely, but eventually I post it anyway cuz surely someone out there will like them, it just takes a lot of patiences and perseverance)

btw, engagement can also vary from time to time, you may be booming for a bit, then suddenly you dont, it is a cycle that will bound to happen

take rest regularly, and I mean a break from social media because numbers, discourse and everything can get to you, very quickly (I cannot emphasise this enough)

the numbers are not worth it over your mental health (comes with practice to really solidify this thought)

study the algorithm (pain): see what other creators are doing to get where they are, what tags are they using in their post? what features/niche do people like?(this is, if you really want to grab some form of engagement, bcuz reminder in the end you are creating art for yourself first!)

example: I think posts would get more reach if you tag it with the ship name first, followed by the characters' name (doesn't work all the time tho)

that's the thing about algorithm, it is ever-changing, and you'll have to learn to adapt with it when it does!

expanding on that, studying algorithm could be about ships (for example, ghostsoap is most popular in the fandom), or really good rendered art/flashed out fic that leaves your jaw on the floor, or ships that gets lesser attention in general which puts you, who make content about them, easier to be brought into the light (like Faralex)

bUT, it can also be personality!

(again, not saying this is meant for everyone and strictly from my own experience + what I observe) for me, I made up the lack of my art by establishing a personality: a wild panda who yaps about price and their oc and also kinda everywhere in the place (just like this post LOL), OR you're the person who named themselves after Soap's ash particle number OR you're the one who likes bottom Ghost- literally anything goes, you want to make an impression in different ways, some more funny/goofier than others but it works (be mindful and stay respectful tho, dont wanna be the asshole in the fandom now do ya?)

efforts ≠ engagement (not all the time, but most time) and this is a fact. Sometimes, you can't expect a piece you did for 10+ hours to get thousands views and likes, especially in a fandom space. You need to understand algorithm is that wonky. (very disheartening, but again, you make the art for you and the few others who genuinely likes them, and those people can go a long way) be mentally prepared for such events, and try not to beat yourself up too much for it

ultimately tho, do it, do it scared but do it anyways and again, draw the things that bring you joy, I hope these could be helpful in some ways!

[sassenashsworld]

Strong at the Institute

(this one is purely headcanon since we know nothing about this aspect of Strong's past)

The List

The man is completely bewildered. He doesn't understand where he is. He can't understand what is going on. He's not sure who these folks are.

Who are they?

He finds the room quite peculiar. Even the sound is weird. It somewhat resembles Dr. Sun's clinic. Or, rather, Dr. Sun's clinic appears to be a bizarre parody of this play. There are men and women wearing too clean attire in a too clean place with too clean equipment. Too much white. There's an excessive amount of white in the clothing worn by those individuals. And other colors. Comedy of colors. Too much faded. Too much clean.

The people around him take notes and whisper with one another, but everyone ignores him.

“Hey!” He tries to free himself, but he has been tightly tied to some sort of bed. Even this bed is strange!

The man's struggles do not go unnoticed. A man, tall, wearing glasses with thick lenses comes closer.

“You finally awake,” the man tells him with a smile. “Good.”

“Who are you?” the poor victim asks him, still struggling against his bonds.

“I'm a doctor,” the glasses-wearing man says, looking over him without touching him. “Can you tell me your name?”

“The hell with everything!” The man barks back. "Why are you strapping me to this bed? Why am I being held captive? Who the hell are you?”

“Calm down, please. No one is holding you captive. You're in a hospital at Diamond City.”

“There is no hospital at Diamond City! Only a clinic! Who are you? Why did I am here?”

“Doctor Virgil,” a woman in a strange, clean suit of a different color says as she approaches the doctor-like figure. “He seems a suitable candidate.”

The man looks at the woman and nods.

“He'll do,” he validates.

“It's seemed. Should we start the experience?” the woman asks.

“Yes, Missis Anubia. First, give the vitamins to ensure the serum response.”

Anubia nods and leaves the room, only to come back with a tray that contains a couple of syringes and some other medical instruments.

The man, bound to the bed, widens his eyes.

“Hey! I don't want anything!”

He starts struggling again.

“It's just vitamins,” Anubia reassures him. “Nothing to worry about. You need them.”

The man shakes his head.

“Nope. I don't want 'em. Leave me alone,” he says defiantly.

The tall man approaches once more, examining his notes.

“You've expressed a liking for classic music and literature. Would you like us to incorporate some of these elements into your transition process?”

The man's attention is somewhat grabbed at that.

“Hah. So, you do know me.”

“We know many things about you,” says the tall man matter-of-factly.

“Doctor Virgil, is it? You are a doctor? Virgil, my man, can you do me a favor?”

The doctor looks at the man with a smile. This is the first time someone is willing to cooperate.

“Sure. What do you want?”

“GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

The tall scientist chuckles, looking at his colleague. Anubia raises an eyebrow and moves the syringe closer to the man's arm, despite his continued struggle.

“Oh, don't worry. It won't hurt,” she says. “Quite the contrary, in fact.”

The man tries to twist to the point of hurting himself, but the more he struggles, the more he understands the bounds are really mean to hold. He cannot avoid the needle. Anubia administers the vitamins without trouble.

The man slumps. The medicine was more than vitamins, the effect being quite noticeable.

“What... is this...?” he stutters.

“Vitamins and some soothing products,” says Virgil. “Don't worry. It's simply intended to help you relax a bit so we can assist you better. There will be no interference with the serum at all. It will soon be dissipated.”

The man tries to move his arm—to twitch—to do anything, but he becomes paralyzed. Fear settles into his eyes as he realizes he can't do anything. He can't fight. He is at their mercy.

“Don't worry!” The doctor repeats with a smile. “It's only temporary. You'll feel better soon.”

“How... how soon...?” The man manages to ask even if, for now, his jaws seem too hard to move properly.

“About twenty minutes. This is the duration required for the serum to fully penetrate your system."

“Twenty... minutes...?!” The man gasps. “Serum?”

“Don't worry,” Virgil continues, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing awful will happen. You will feel better in no time.” He quickly injects another vial into the man's arms. “But in the meantime, we think that listening to some music will help you.”

“Music...? Like a lullaby for a child...?” the man asks in a trembling voice.

“Not exactly,” Anubia replies, her smile spreading. “We comprehend you like the works of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. We have prepared something for you. I'm sure you will enjoy it.”

“I... I don't understand,” the man says, feeling a dread in his bowel.

Anubia presses a few buttons on a strange machine, causing it to begin playing music that may resemble Mozart's compositions but is far from it. The sound is loud and unlike anything the man had ever heard before.

The man attempts to speak, but the noise is so loud that it overpowers him and takes over his entire consciousness. At this stage, he has trouble even recalling his own name. He feels as though a drill bit is whirling within his skull. The sound seems more than just sound—like claws closing on his brain. He tries to blink, shake, and find something, but nothing happens. Nothing forms in his mind. He's not even able to grasp reality and time.

He felt as though he plummeted into an emptiness, and this emptiness embodied the sound.

A blank.

A long blank of nothingness.

When something finally surfaces in his consciousness, he desperately clings to it.

“It's not Mozart... it's not MOZART!” The man doesn't understand why it bothers him so much, but it does. “IT'S NOT MOZART! PLAY MOZART!”

Virgil approaches Anubia and points something on her pad.

“Sadly, I have the impression we can already state about the aggressivity...”

Anubia nods and writes something down her pad. After that, she fidgets with the machine until it stops making noise. The man is sweating profusely, struggling to calm himself down.

“It's not Mozart...” he says with an uneven voice. “Why is this not Mozart? It has to be Mozart!”

On a wave of the doctor, the personal leave the room as well as Virgil and Anubia. The poor man finds himself alone. He doesn't understand what is happening. He doesn't understand why he is here. He doesn't understand what those people are doing to him.

He can't move, but his mind is wide awake, racing. What is happening here? The serum is making him feel... strange. He tries to move his arm again... and again. And again.

A... shiver of his fingers! He's not completely paralyzed.

In fact, the man is not paralyzed at all. The effect of the serum is unclear, but he can move his fingers, hands, and feet. Why did he thought he was paralyzed?

The man is confused. Why the hell did he thought he was paralyzed? He looks around, checking if he is indeed alone. He takes a deep breath to get his bearings. His legs, his arms, his body—all of it is intact! He can even breathe properly! Now, why the hell did he thought he was paralyzed? He flexes his fingers and toes, rolling his shoulders.

The ties firmly hold him to the bed. He can't do anything. He is stuck here, alone, with no answers.

He sighs, slumping against the bed. What can he possibly do now? Wait until those guys return to continue... whatever they're doing? Hell no. His mind is on fire. He is more than ready to fight…

...but there's no one to fight.

Time is running its course. The twenty minutes are long gone now, but no one comes back. He’s waiting. He waits for what seems to be hours. After a long time, he does not understand why, but his obsession with Mozart returns.

“Hey, Virgil?” He tries to call. “Doctor Virgil! You said I’d have Mozart? Can I have Mozart?”

Just as he finishes, the door to the room opens, but the man coming in is not Virgil. It is someone new.

“You are conscious,” says the stranger. “Good.”

“What the hell is going on here...?” the man asks hostilely, staring at the newcomer with suspicion.

The newcomer comes to his bed. He looks different from other people he has seen so far. He looks older. Older than any person he's ever seen. He is in a lab coat, as are Virgil and some others, but with a clean sweater underneath.

“Don’t fear about anything. We got you. You are in good hands.”

His voice is so soothing.

The poor man stuck in a strange bed can only calm down now.

“Who... who are you?”

The newcomer inspects some instruments and screens, then turns to the other.

“The serum has already been injected into you. Those idiots. I will need to make further adjustments to ensure your double is functioning properly.”

He takes a syringe on a plate and moves closer to the bed.

“WHO ARE YOU?” asks again the poor victim.

The newcomer gives him a disinterested gaze, obviously not impressed.

“People here call me Father, but for you it doesn’t matter anymore.” He inserts the needle into the other’s arm, but instead of injecting something, he collects his blood. “Soon, nothing will matter to you... except perhaps… Mozart?”

The attached man can't help but feel a deep fear seeping into him. Mozart. Why is nothing playing Mozart? Why is Mozart important? He had questions. He’s sure of having questions. Important questions...

“Why didn't anyone let me hear Mozart?”

The newcomer's smile widens at that.

“You do like Mozart,” he states, not as a question but as if he were hammering something in the mind of the man.

“I... am... yes... maybe? I... I WANT TO HEAR MOZART!”

A sudden fist of rage seizes him, and he tries again to struggle in his bounds. That's when he is surprised to be able to slack them. But before he can rejoice, an unbearable pain seizes him on top of his rage, and he lets out a cry of agonizing pain.

The newcomer does nothing but watch the man writhe on the bed, trying to free himself with only his own muscles.

“Shhh... calm down,” the stranger says, his voice so oddly soothing. “Don't resist too much. You will only hurt yourself.”

The man is now panting. The strange sounds they have make him listen sooner invading his mind.

He wants Mozart. He wants Mozart. He wants Mozart.

“Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!”

Virgil and Anubia abruptly return to the room.

“Sorry, Father,” Virgil rushes to defend himself with humility in his voice. “This subject quickly succumbs to the serum, it seems.”

The newcomer doesn't even turn to his colleagues; he keeps focusing on the poor man on the bed.

“I know!” he says, his voice still eerily calm. “What did I tell you about that? Why are you so reckless with the serum dose?”

“We followed the usual protocol, Father,” Anubia quickly answers, somewhat intimidated by the too calm man.

Virgil nods, agreeing with his colleague.

“It's the usual dosage we use with the other subjects,” he says.

Father sighs, turns to face them, and takes another syringe from the platter.

“You didn't take into account that our subject here is older than the others,” he says slowly, injecting the new product in the man's veins. “Of course he succumbs faster. You are too careless to notice these things.”

Anubia and Virgil exchange sheepish glances as the newcomer calls them out.

“We... were not aware, Father. We apologize,” Virgil finally says.

“Of course you weren't,” Father said with a small, bitter chuckle. “You apply the same treatment to every subject, disregarding their physical attributes. That's why the success rate of the FEV is so low.”

“Wait!” suddenly grasp the victim. “FEV? You have injected me with FEV? I AM TRANFORMING INTO A SUPER MUTANT?”

Virgil and Anubia try to hush the man, but Father simply puts a single hand up to silence them.

“FEV is more than just a transformation to 'super mutants'” he says. “It is the future of our kind. It can change everything. There is so much potential in that serum. So much to explore. So much more. You are not just a subject; you are a candidate. And we are going to change you to something better.”

The man struggles more and more, feeling his bound weakening fast.

“I DON'T WANT! I DON'T WANT! NO! NO! NO!” He is losing his mind so swiftly. Rage, blind rage. He is losing it. He will lose it even more. “NO! YOU CAN'T! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!”

Father smiles like a shark.

“The Institute has all rights. Calm down now, or we won't allow you to have your... Mozart.”

The mention of Mozart seems to have an immediate effect on the poor man, despite the turmoil in his mind. He instantly looks at Father, as if hoping he can get an explanation or... a threat.

“Mozart?” he asks with a trembling voice.

“Yes, Mozart. Soon, you will hear all the Mozart you want, Mister McDonough.”

The elder exits the room with Virgil and Anubia.

The man begins to feel increasingly weird; his struggles decrease, and his breathing gradually worsens as the sound again invades his mind.

“Mo... Mozart...” he says in a dreamy voice. “I want... Mozart...”