#cotton is our savior and our angel

[starres-stuff]

Day 3- Tempest FFXIV Write 2024

Tempest: to raise a tempest in or around

CW/TW: Dark Themes, Mature Themes, Hints at Abusive Upbringing.

Long before Vi and Dimitri another story existed, the story of their Mother; Saphelle Jienuex. 

“What will you do to suffer no more? Will you plead with the Dragons to eat them? Will you hire thugs to kill them in the streets or will you submit to me, girl?” Hers was always a cruel and scathing voice when she spoke. The distant specter of the void hungered for another of the Jienuex line to pay her price and step into her trap. Saphelle had noted that she had tripled her visits in recent weeks, her whispers far more tangible than normal. 

“Are you done yet?” the young Elezen asked from the shadows she brooded in, lavender eyes lingering on what appeared to be the shapely figure of a woman cast upon her wall. “We have gone through this nightly Numeria Ichatan” 

A low hiss was her reply and long; needle-like claws moved towards her across her wall, their intention to siphon some of her Aether to remind her of her place but they never did reach her, trying as she might. The girl seemed to be shielded by a powerful ward that a simple voidsent could not break through. 

“My name is not yours to use, girl.” The voice called back, a screeching sound coming from the wall, always dramatic this one was; hells bent on getting her own way. 

“I will use whatever I please.” Saphelle was in no mood for parlor tricks or over-dramatic theatrics. She had sought her darkness to tend to the wounds left behind by a drunken Father who did not know how to keep his hands to himself and needed them broken finger by finger to learn a lesson. He was not the only one either, the cruel gaze of her Mother as she watched him dish out his punishment. “He is sick Saphelle” the spineless creature would whisper later when they were alone, trying to make up for the things that had happened. This was her every night, some macabre play she had been birthed into one moonless night.

“Say yes and it will all be over.” The whisper teased again, there was nothing she wanted more than for it to be over. Soon to be twenty-one and not promised for marriage as any other Ishgardian noble daughter her age would have been. There had been other unfortunate things like this in her young life. No debutante ball, no sweet sixteen, and certainly no entertaining suitors come to ask for her hand.

“And what will you take from me in return to solve my problems Numeria Ichatan?” her, own, cruel smile appeared as she said the name again, a name she had found scrawled into the journal of her ancestors Neophinne the Scholar, her Mhachi ancestors who had been summoner, handler, and lover to the creature that followed her. 

“Nothing now, only after your death. I would claim your name and body as my own. I would live out your days as I lived our Neophinne’s, as I saw fit. In return, I will leave them as empty husk devoid of Aether, a fitting end for what they have offered you.”

Ah, the feelings that rose in Saphelle as she listened, the cold smile devoid or emotion that curled on her lips, as lost herself in the thoughts of all of this being hers. Oh, the sweet notes of revenge that hummed in her ears now. As much as she hated to admit it, the Voidsents price was small for something that would put her plan into motion. 

“You win. I will take your bargain.” Saphelle returned her attention to the wounds on her arms and stomach, a cotton ball dabbing at the lash marks from her Father's whip with a very sterile astringent that her Mother made to care for things such as this. 

“We have an oath then? Do you consent to the pact? Their death and your freedom for the right to claim your body when your soul goes on to the Sea?” The shadows moved and the form of a succubus emerged from them, gliding across the floor without her feet touching as if she was some twisted angel here to be the benevolent savior of the young woman. 

“I agree to your terms.” A slim hand rose, garnets glittering across her pale skin on golden bands “I would like it to be my Birthday present, we will be attending the theater as we always do to celebrate. When it is over we will emerge in the right alleyway from our private box. I expect them not to emerge from the alley.” 

The succubus took her hand turning it over and taking one of her claws to etch a symbol into the skin when completed the symbol glowed with the power of the void and a pair of grotesque lips touched hers, they felt like old parchment dry and ready to decay. 

“An exchange of Aether to seal the pact.” Saphelle's eyes grew wide as she felt her breath sucked out of her lungs, leaving her to gasp for air and then seconds later the voidsent breathed into her an old air that tasted like decay, causing the young woman to shudder in disgust. 

“Three days count them and I will be at your side” Her presence faded then leaving Saphelle alone in the darkness, her empty eyes filled with a vivid ruby light and her emotionless smile became a beacon of hope in the dismal gray. 

 “Happy Birthday to me.”  A short laugh burst forth from her lips into the room, the echo of it ominous and foreboding. She knew well the tempest that she had released that night, the creeping death that would set right all she had endured to this point. It would be a chaotic storm, but she would see the other side. 

[cosmiccheesesticks]

Love is Liminal

A Flash Fiction by Josephine Arabella

She’s in my dreams again. Her honey eyes glistening in the sunlight as I brush her dark curls from her cheek. She leans in to kiss me, her lips like clouds against mine. I can really feel her. Suddenly, I awake in my tiny apartment. Next to me, bellows a snoring beast, shattering her perfect image. Not a moment later, his alarm pierces my ears as he rolls over to snooze it. I stand up and started walking towards the bathroom.

“You’re up early,” he grumbles, pushing past me and unleashing a stream of beer-scented piss all over the toilet seat.

I roll my eyes and sit back in the bed, waiting for the beast to leave for work so I could dream of her again. She is all I think about. The only part of me that makes sense. Lonnie didn’t make sense. He’s always been a slob, but after we lost our daughter, he became so cruel. So demonic that I fear if I leave, I’ll be putting whoever rescues me at risk. A few months ago, I found the closest thing to my savior.

My cousin Riley is a pharmaceutical scientist. Recently she’s been experimenting with psilocybin and guided sleep therapy, a little magic capsule, meant to help those with PTSD and other mental illnesses. She pulled some strings after I explained my situation, as long as I document everything. But lately, I just want to stay there with the goddess who came to me that first night.

“Callie,” I hear someone disgustingly familiar say. “I’m talking to you, woman!” Lonnie’s booming voice broke my thoughts “I’m getting off work late tonight, don’t wait up.”

I know what that means, I’m not stupid. He can’t drink without hitting on every piece of ass that bends his way. I decided tonight I would experiment with more, and just maybe I’d get to stay with her longer.

The dose is one capsule before bed. I can’t wait that long. I have to see her right now. Two, no four should do the trick. The sunrise creeps through the curtains as my vision fades. My eyes open to a gaping archway and the sky like a work of art before me. Heavenly shades of pinks and purples mix with what looks like cotton candy. I look down to see I’m standing on smooth, pink tile, and look around at this palace-style room. Someone gently lays a hand on my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “Welcome home, my love.” I turn around to see her in her white, flowing dress.

“Aaliyah,” I sigh, wrapping my arms around her. She’s warm, like a sweater after you put it in the dryer. She smells like warm vanilla and cinnamon.

“Come, Calista,” Aaliyah speaks in a calming voice, beckoning me toward her.

I take her hand and she walks me over the edge of the archway. We drift slowly. I can feel a wave inside of me as I look over to see her light up and her dimples deepen. She looks so free. I want to be free. “I love you,” I tell her.

“And I love you,” she says with a giggle.

I see a bright green field surrounded by a thick forest of twisted, full trees. We land on our feet, and she turns to me, the sun setting behind her like a scene in a romance movie.

“You can’t stay here forever,” she says.

“What if I want to stay?” I ask.

“Calista, just stay in this moment with me.” She turns and runs toward a field of colorful wildflowers. I chase her until we fall together, laughing the whole way down. Her golden-brown skin shimmers, sending shockwaves through me. Perfection is an understatement. The image is again shattered as the beast Lonnie crawls into bed smelling of cheap whores and beer.

I get up and decide to take a walk. It’s 3am but that’s the best time to go. Midnight crickets sing as I get to the park at the end of my street. I see a figure with big curly hair sitting on a swing. As I get closer, the figure turns to me.

“Hey Calista.” Her voice is angelic.

I don’t speak, but tears well up as I rush towards her. I don’t know how she’s here, and I don’t care. My dreams are finally reality. We’re leaving town and never looking back.

[writingsofwesteros]

Biblical Verse

AN: Hi, here is a sneak peak that I hope you all enjoy - I know my writing sucks at the moment. Thank you to all who helped with the world building, please continue ;)

Soft criticism is welcome but i might cry if its harsh ;)

I did want to do more detail so it could be different.

The mother character is quite mysterious and may not even be a 'good' influence on Michael....which makes me think of a certain character...oopsie

“25 years ago, God disappeared. His angels held man responsible and declared war on humanity. The Archangel Gabriel led this war of extermination, hoping to rid the world of humans and claim dominion over it. Some higher angels refused to take sides, but the lower angels joined Gabriel. These lesser spirits lacked bodies, so their first line of attack was to steal ours. But Michael, the greatest of all Archangels, chose to fight for man. With his help, the survivors struck back and built strongholds to defend themselves. Soon, word spread of a baby Michael had saved, a child who would grow up to be mankind’s savior. This Chosen One would be known by the markings on his body. Finally, Gabriel and his army retreated, and we were left with the realization that not only are angels real…they are our most hated enemies.”

******************

Chapter One 2025

Michael stared ahead to the dim lights of the city below; his expression as ever was blank and the ever vibrant violet eyes that unnerved many were piercing still. The chatter of the lower classes hummed to him even at the great height he perched at whilst the cold, winter breeze moved in. The larger, cotton curtains were no barrier as they fluttered around his larger frame. Still, the archangel showed no sign of caring for such coldness as his memories of the past engulfed him. Bowing his head, Michael stared at his slender fingers; so unlike his real form but the quarter of a century inside this body brought him comfort now. Still, he could not help but shiver at the unnaturalness of it all. He had to remember that he was not one of them; no matter how with ease he could slide into their existence. Baelon was unfortunately right about such things not that Michael would ever admit to that.

“You are thinking too much.” Michael hummed in agreement as the soft, always wanted voice entered his mind. His mother was never too far, the angel thought to himself as he finally moved. “Mother….” Michael greeted aloud; that stone face of his softening if only for a mere second. “I did not know you had arrived.” A raised eyebrow was his only answer and it was enough for him to bow his head once more. The familiar scent of her brought Michael some comfort as his mother began to step forward; her hand as ever reaching out to his. Usually, the angel was adverse to touch; but never from his mother. Her free hand slowly moved into those bright, silky locks of his. They were usually tied back like the soldier he was but in his home; his place of rest - Michael could be free, especially in the presence of his mother.

“What has got you so worried?” His mother continued as she brought him against her chest in an embrace Michael always longed for, not that he would ever admit to such a thing. The soldier inside him was engraved; his mask forever in place. Her familiar comfort had the angel burrowing into her neck; the scent of his mother allowing his eyes to rest. The soldier inside him was engraved; his mask forever in place. “I fear Gabriel is building up strength. I feel a change in the air.” Any words the angel was going to speak were stopped by an added presence he felt. Easily, Michael’s protective nature that was near legendary kicked in as those big, bright eyes of his flashed to the opening door. “Michael…calm yourself…” His mother’s voice whispered as her delicate, ringed hand settled on his chest. The thin, royal purple of her dress flowed as she turned to face the door.

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

I HAVE HAD EEVEE BELL FOR *checks dates* oh shit six days now. damn i took my time with this commentary. BUT STILL IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HER oh wait. something does happen to her. shit. *cries*

"Thank the Goddess" 👀👀 religion???? in my sci-fi universe??? sounds like something to obsess over for the next three to five business days

"Artificial intelligence that the Solar Planets spent a fortune to perfect. Of course just like with everything else though, Brahma gets left behind in the dust" ough, the solar planets having more resources than the outer rim. especially because of the war. blegh

"Goddess bless our savior New Kinshasa. (EEVEE LAUGHS A BIT HARSHER)" ooh, she's bitter (as is her right) i'm loving it

i'm having so much fun seeing the aftermath of nureyev's little stunt with the reactor core. it makes sense that both brahma and new kinshasa were sent into disarray, but with nureyev's panicking he probably didn't have time to stop and think about how everyone else was reacting to what he did.

soooo... at the time this recording was made, nureyev was still on brahma??? i wonder if any of these characters ever met him...

"And if we fall, New Kinshasa falls with us." AHOGSFLKNIGLWKDSH`OAFKN;

"He doesn’t believe the Revolutionary killed a Constable" that's mag isn't it. why are they calling him a constable??? to villainise nureyev??? because they don't understand what really happened, and they would rather admit to losing a constable than admit to being confused??

"Mark my word, I think my little comms will outlive both of us. If Baird’s lucky it will outlive them." dramatic irony my beloved

"I couldn’t kiss Baird’s head because Charlie had a death grip on his shoulders" OH BLESS THEIR LITTLE COTTON SOCKS (think i just used this exact phrase on zeph's fic but it applies here too)

"We are a proper family. Mom who works too hard, dad who left to get milk and never came back– see? Proper family." lmaooo he's funny

"A man who wasn’t the least bit popular in any particular revolutionary circle. Apparently, he wanted to drop New Kinshasa out of the sky and saw it perfectly fit to kill all of Brahma in the process" glad to know none of them approve of mag. if he was going to destroy brahma with his plan anyway, he might as well have just let the GAS do it's thing. what an absolute bastard.

"they kept pinching each other and trying to not shriek? I think that was the objective?" wtf lol

"BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Memma?" BABY BAIRD!!!! BABY BAIRD!!! AND HE'S A FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY!!! OH MY GOD AHORIEFLGDJ

baird learned to sing because eevee always sang to him... 🥺🥺🥺

"Mom, why are you showing me how to use your comms? Is something going to happen to us? Is something bad going to happen to you?" OH BLESS HIM GOD SOMEONE WRAP HIM UP IN A BLANKET AND PUT HIM SOMEWHERE SAFE

"there once was a boy born on Brahma with nothing. Not even a name" oh fuck yeah storytime.

"He looked down at Brahma from up high, and saw them: his people" i've got chills, jay. chills.

"stared back at the city as it trembled. The boy had the power at his fingertips to stop a tragedy." more chills

"hope bloomed on Brahma. The Boy, The Legend, The Angel of Brahma." i absolutely love this version. it's not how nureyev remembers it, but this is the story that the brahman people tell their children. it's so good. it's so fucking good.

"That’s not a story Memma, that’s history" smartass

"My angel, I must ask you keep singing for me.  How sweet your tune, like a songbird at noon." O' MY LOVER ONCE SANG TO MEEEEEEE, HOW SWEET, THE BITTER TUNE YOU MADE THEM PLEA. MY ANGEL, MY ANGEEEEEEL, PLEASE LET ME GO LET ME FREEEEEE

"Promise me you’ll never stop singing baby" MY ANGEL, MY ANGEL, PLEASE NEVER STOP SINGING FOR MEEEEEEE

"And nothing will" i was so angry at her for like 0.002 seconds and then. i was just sad. she probably didn't want it to be a lie.

"Which button was it to end the recording? Was it this o– SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS" lmaoooo yes it was that one

"must contact Frannie’s friend about both of those names" FUCK YEAH LET'S GET RITA IN THIS FIC I ALWAYS WANT MORE RITA

"Bairdy and Memma… right up there with Charls and Dearest" i'm sobbing why is everyone baird loves taken away from him. why, jay. why.

"Eve loved Baird so much. She reminds me of my mother a bit" oh, calypso.

"there are some things that will be lost to me forever" uhhhh does this mean i don't get to know either??? jay??? c'monnnnn, you'll tell me, right?? please?? 🥺🥺

this was like pulling teeth for you???? i honestly could not tell. i loved it, it provides so much good context and flows so nicely. i loved seeing eevee's perspective on things. rewrite later if you want but i think it's absolutely amazing either way!!!

onto the next part!!! in which i might end up screaming song lyrics at you again. apparently that's what i'm doing to you and zeph this fine sunday morning

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. ix

Travelers. Friends. Mutuals. @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @the-private-eye @demonic-panini @gwenlena

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS. MOTHERLY VOICE: I finally got a moment to myself thanks to Eber and Camilla… Thank the Goddess… I don’t know what I would be doing without them. (THE PERSON SIGHS) Where do I begin? I guess… my name would be a good start.  (CLEARING THEIR THROAT) My name is Eevee Bell, and I am one of three to four dozen Dome Wardens on Brahma. Our duty is to perform routine maintenance on the planet’s Dome, track incoming and outgoing shuttles and ships, and monitor Brahma’s severe weather outside the Dome. I love my job. I think I do my job very well. From what I’ve heard about other planets, they have robotics and computers to do this job now. Artificial intelligence that the Solar Planets spent a fortune to perfect. Of course just like with everything else though, Brahma gets left behind in the dust. (EEVEE CHUCKLES UNDER HER BREATH) EEVEE: Goddess bless our savior New Kinshasa. (EEVEE LAUGHS A BIT HARSHER) EEVEE: What happened to us though has been brewing under their noses for some time now. I guess it was only a matter of time before… something was done.  To be honest I’m still not entirely sure what did happen. I know that our alarms went off when the Reactor Core was removed, and I know they stopped going off when the Core was put back. I know that the Chief Constable called all of our stations, and ordered us to go home. I know that we have not gone back to our stations for nearly ten days. I know that if we don’t accept any imports within the next seven days Brahma will begin to suffer. And if we fall, New Kinshasa falls with us.  Cyrus called me while I was rushing to get home to Baird. He asked me how much I knew and after I told him, I asked how much he knew. He said it would be better if he came to speak to me in person. He lives across town with Iris. I told him it wouldn’t be wise to meet up so late, especially with a curfew in place. He disagreed, but I talked enough sense into him that he waited until morning to catch a tram over here to the apartments.  Baird was not enthused to see him. He was rather… indifferent, actually. I know it hurt Cyrus’ feelings, I do plan on talking about it with Baird when I can, but it’s so hard to talk about anything seriously right now. I’d rather keep things as light-hearted as possible.  I sent Baird over to Camilla and Eber’s apartment while I had tea with Cyrus. He looked so worried. He asked me if I saw the Chief Constable’s broadcast about the Revolutionary, Peter Nureyev. I have. I watched it with Baird the night before after I got home from my post. Cyrus said that he doesn’t know of any Peter Nureyevs in any of his revolution circles.  He surprised me by asking me for my thoughts about the Constable they allegedly found murdered by the Revolutionary. I didn’t at the time, and I still don’t now. Cyrus said that he has reason to believe that part was a lie. He doesn’t believe the Revolutionary killed a Constable. He thinks it might be an elaborate lie or cover-up for some more vain truth. (EEVEE INHALES SHARPLY) The revolutionaries are holding a meeting tonight. Cyrus invited me to come. He wants me there. I don’t want to get in trouble, but… I need to keep Cyrus and Baird safe. And by extension, it’s my job to keep Brahma safe.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS: EEVEE:  What the fuck! NEW VOICE:  What are you doing? EEVEE:  What am I doing I’m recording you idiot! Cyrus, don’t you see? If what was discussed tonight has any truth to it, New Kinshasa isn’t going to let any of this get out. More than– I bet you my next paycheck that Dark Matters is going to play a role in covering it all up! (CYRUS TRIES TO SHUSH EEVEE) CYRUS:  Alright, alright– you have a point. Keep your voice down alright the streets have ears… You really hope your little comms though is going to play a role in– This? EEVEE: Mark my word, I think my little comms will outlive both of us. If Baird’s lucky it will outlive them.  (CYRUS GROANS. EEVEE GIGGLES) Okay, okay… I attended the meeting– CYRUS: The book club. We went to a late-night book club meeting. What? Don’t give me that look. Plausible deniability, Eve. EEVEE:  Right. The Book Club. We attended Book Club and talked about the climax of a war story. In the story, the main character kills a man with radical ideas to overthrow their government. The man he killed was not popular amongst the rebels. In theory, they should have agreed with him. CYRUS: In practice, however, the rebels do not condone murdering hundreds of thousands of people. Thus the whole unpopular amongst the rebels.  EEVEE:  Of course, word got out about the man’s death, and to cover it up, the government claimed him as an Enforcer. And they were getting away with it because the last clothes the man was found in was a stolen Enforcer uniform.  I don’t know if I believe the rebel or the government’s of the story– CYRUS: Eve– EEVEE: But! But. But I do believe that it was the right call for the rebels to sit back and wait for information to trickle out to them slowly… I think I’ll need to attend the next meeting to really make sure I understand what I’m getting myself into. Oh– I’m so tired. Can we discuss all this in the morning? With hopefully less ears listening in? (CYRUS HUMS AFFIRMATIVELY) CYRUS: I’ll even let you sleep in if you let me crash on your couch.  EEVEE: Of course, I wouldn’t make you walk across town while already breaking our curfew.  CYRUS: Thanks, Eve.  (LONG PAUSE) Baird’s not going to be mad to see me, is he? EEVEE: This late at night? I doubt it. If anything he’s staying over at that Spade’s apartment probably fast asleep with Charlie. Oh, they’re so sweet together. I went to say good night to them one evening and I couldn’t kiss Baird’s head because Charlie had a death grip on his shoulders. He's always polite and entertains all of Baird’s whims… I wish you were around more to see it happen. CYRUS:  You and I both know why that can’t happen.  (BOTH OF THEM SIGH) EEVEE: You know he’s only so pouty around you because you and I split up, right? He just wants us all together again. Like a proper family. CYRUS: We are a proper family. Mom who works too hard, dad who left to get milk and never came back– see? Proper family. (EEVEE LAUGHS CAUSING CYRUS TO LAUGH) UNFAMILIAR VOICE: Hey, state your business and show your credentials. CYRUS: Shit, Constables. Run Eve! SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. RECORDING BEGINS.  (EEVEE WHISPERS) EEVEE: Cyrus and I got away from the Constables last week perfectly fine. This week on Brahma: we went to another revolution meeting. A few old timers took roll call and one of them said he had reason to believe that the person the Angel of Brahma killed was one of theirs. A man who wasn’t the least bit popular in any particular revolutionary circle. Apparently, he wanted to drop New Kinshasa out of the sky and saw it perfectly fit to kill all of Brahma in the process.  (EEVEE SCOFFS) The nerve of some people. No one at the meeting could remember his name though, and no one still knows who Peter Nureyev is outside of the photos projected on every billboard on the planet now. He looks so young. Those dark and haunting eyes and sharp teeth. I find it hard to believe that he’s just a teenager. But– he is.  I’m trying to keep my voice down right now because Baird is asleep. The meeting was held before curfew this time so Cyrus went home to Iris and I walked alone back to the apartment. Eber was waiting for me just outside and before I could say hello he was dragging me down the halls to Hank’s apartment. His dog Missy was sprawled out on the sofa but Hank, Camilla, and Josie were all gathered around the dinner table. Mrs. Darius was upstairs with Talia, Charlie, and Baird. I sat down and told them everything I could.  The revolutionaries wouldn’t let me record anything with my comms during the meeting, but there wasn’t much that I think needed to be recorded. Just talk about who was storing what, who was leaving their doors open to help others. There was a lot of talk about going on strike. Either food or labor. They want to send a message to New Kinshasa. I don’t think I can afford to do much of anything. Me and the other Dome Wardens just went back to work two days ago, we are working through a backlog of off-planet imports and exports still. If I strike alone I’ll just be fired. If all the Wardens strike, then the Constables will take over and that will lead to certain catastrophe. And if I stop eating then Baird will stop eating and he’s already so… short.  Oh– I wish I got a chance to talk to Cyrus before we went our separate ways. He’d help me think of some way I can help. Better yet, he’d probably be able to give the others here at the apartments the answers they wanted from me. Hank didn’t say anything other than telling us to get out. Eber, Camilla, Josie, and I were silent on the walk upstairs. The kids were delighted to see us. Eber walked Talia back down to Hank, Josie was trying to fill in Mrs. Darius, and Camilla and I watched the boys play some sort of game where they kept pinching each other and trying to not shriek? I think that was the objective? Children’s games used to be much less violent when I was that age. I remember when– BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Memma? EEVEE: Bairdy! What are you doing awake? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): I couldn’t sleep. You were being too loud.  (EEVEE TSKS) EEVEE: Then let’s put you back to bed alright baby? C’mon. I’ll even sing for you if you’d like.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS. EEVEE: I have either made the best decision of the revolution that will turn the tides in favor of Brahma, or the worst mistake of my life.  I told the old-timers at this past meeting that I work as a Dome Warden, and that a few of my colleagues seemed interested in joining the rebellion but were uncertain on how to go about it. The old-timers were delighted for a number of reasons and had drawn the same conclusion that I had a few weeks ago when a labor strike was first brought up. They think it would be very good if I was able to get some of the other Wardens on board with the revolution.  Cyrus was very quiet during the meeting. I asked him before we left if he had any opinions he was holding back, and all he said was to trust my gut. So… I trusted my gut. I told the other Wardens at my post about the meetings. I told them about going on strike. A few seemed skeptical. Others wanted to know when the next meeting was. I’m going to contact Cyrus and get him to help me get the others to the next meeting.  I hope… this wasn’t a mistake. I guess time will only tell. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS. EEVEE: –you turned it on. Good job, baby. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Mom, why are you showing me how to use your comms? Is something going to happen to us? Is something bad going to happen to you?  EEVEE: What? Oh no, baby. Nothing is going to happen to me. I just think you would find more use out of my comms than I would. Look, since you got it to record you can start recording all those little songs you like to sing. Or maybe you can get Charlie to record a story for you.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): But Mom, I like your singing and your stories more. Will you sing for me? And tell me a story tonight? EEVEE: Absolutely not. You get one or the other. Take your pick. And whatever you don’t choose, you have to give to me.  (BAIRD POUTS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Fine… I want a story from you, and then I’ll give you a song. EEVEE:  Good choice, Bairdy. What kind of story would you like? (BAIRD HUMS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): I want a story about Brahma.  EEVEE: A story about Brahma? Well… there once was a boy born on Brahma with nothing. Not even a name. He grew up just like everyone else, hungry for more. More food, more freedom, more time. The boy followed a man who dreamed of dropping the New Kinshasa on top of the planet.  The boy was very tired. Tired of being poor, tired of being hungry, tired of being alone. But he knew, that if he let that man drop New Kinshasa out of the sky, he would never be able to forgive himself. Brahma is his home. He looked down at Brahma from up high, and saw them: his people.  Starving young faces just like his looked up to the sky and stared back at the city as it trembled. The boy had the power at his fingertips to stop a tragedy.  This is it. The people thought. This is how we go out. Not with the big bang, but crushed under the heel of our jailor.  The boy heard their thoughts. He felt a rush of adrenaline and stopped the man from getting away. The city of New Kinshasa never fell out of the sky that day. The people were ordered to retreat to their homes. But that evening, everyone heard about the great threat against the Guardian Angel System. And everyone learned the name Peter Nureyev. And for the first time in the last half-century, hope bloomed on Brahma. The Boy, The Legend, The Angel of Brahma.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): That’s not a story Memma, that’s history.  EEVEE: And what is history but a story we have to learn from? Now, I believe you owe me a song. (BAIRD GROANS AND HUFFS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Fine… (BAIRD TAKES A DEEP BREATH AND HUMS. THE SOUND GETS CLEARER LIKE HE’S BROUGHT THE COMMS CLOSER) My angel, I must ask you keep singing for me.  How sweet your tune, like a songbird at noon.  What a lovely trill, it makes me feel ill. O’ My heart overflows, I could never let go.  Like chimes in the wind, it must be destined.  I’ll find my way home, with your voice I’ll never be alone. Happy? (EEVEE SNIFFLES) EEVEE: Very. Thank you, Baird. That was beautiful.  (FABRIC RUSTLES, BOTH BAIRD AND EEVEE HUM) Promise me you’ll never stop singing baby. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Of course, Memma. I don’t think I could even if I tried.  EEVEE: Good. Now– (EEVEE PRESSES A KISS TO BAIRD’S HEAD) Get some sleep. Okay? We have a long day tomorrow. And Bairdy? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Yes, Mom? EEVEE: You know that I love you, right? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): To the moons and back, yeah… Mom you promised nothing bad was going to happen to you.  EEVEE:  And nothing will. Good night, Baird.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Night Mom.  SOUND: DOOR CLOSING. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Which button was it to end the recording? Was it this o– SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

- EEVEE BELL. BAIRD BELL. must contact Frannie’s friend about both of those names. - Dome Wardens are indeed an old, out of date job. Eve is right, they’ve been replaced with robots. It’s actually kinda scary how right she was about things. About that, about Dark Matters probably covering everything up with New Kinshasa. - Cyrus and Eve sound so fun together. I can see why they got married and had a kid together. - Bairdy and Memma… right up there with Charls and Dearest. - Oh Baird, he was 12 when these recordings were made. 12. Just almost a teenager, not quite. Almost too old to be called a baby. - Eve loved Baird so much. She reminds me of my mother a bit. And she knew exactly what she was doing tucking Baird into bed that final time. There’s no doubt in my mind this is the last recording with her in it. She was taken away after this and never came back. The Dome Wardens did go on strike at some point according to Baird in other recordings, so did someone snitch to a Constable? Did she the Constable that almost caught her and Cyrus track her down? - I think that’s the most frustrating part of my job. No matter how much I dig and research, there are some things that will be lost to me forever.

[she-is-tim]

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[holylulusworld]

Savior or devil? – Part 3

Thanks go to @firefly-graphics​​ for the wonderful text dividers. <3

Summary: Only days after Rick found you in the woods and takes you in, you end up surrounded not only by walkers but his worst enemy too.

Pairing: Negan x Reader, Rick Grimes x Reader (platonic)

Characters: Simon, Dr. Harlan Carson

Warnings: angst, language (it’s Negan ladies and gentlemen), innocent reader, a hint of soft Negan, the reader is a ray of sunshine (maybe a bit naïve too but we love her), age gap (reader is around 25), cuddling & snuggling, Negan has a daddy kink

<< Part 2

“Don’t you dare to sleep all day,” Negan grumbles. He doesn’t like you still didn’t wake up since last night. “Kiddo, get your ass up.”

“So…tired,” he huffs, relieved you did flinch at his words. “I’m going to get up soon, daddy.” Negan doesn’t know if you meant him or your father, but he can’t deny his cock twitched in his pants.

“Say that again, kid,” you whine, hiding your face in your pillow. “I want to hear it. Call me daddy again, Y/N.” He leans over your body to get a glimpse of your stiff nipples underneath the shirt he offered to you. “Y/N.”

“I’m tired,” you roll on your side, ignoring Negan tries to talk to you. “Go away. I hate you for leaving me alone, daddy. How could you just run off and never come back?”

“Fuck, you made me hard and meant your old man, great.” Negan lifts the blanket to have a look at your ass. “Nice ass, kiddo. Sooner or later I’ll conquer it, promised. Maybe tomorrow – huh? I’d like to taste this sweet little cunt of yours too.”

“I dare you to touch the girl while she’s unconscious, Negan,” Sherry storms into the room, ignoring her ‘husband’s’ angry eyes. “I know you are a bastard, but don’t be a fucking creep too.”

“I would never touch her without her consent. Now be good and take care of that chick. I got better things to do than taking care of a pussy I can’t fuck,” Negan gives you one last look, worriedly rubbing his chin. “She better doesn’t die on your watch or you’ll pay the price. I still want to fuck her…”

“I don’t want to know every fucking detail, doc. Just tell me when she’s going to be able to leave my room,” Negan looks out of the window, watching Simon drag Amber toward a side building.

Negan gave his right-hand man permission to do anything he wants to with Amber to make sure he keeps his hands off you.

“Her fever is still high but her breathing got better. I hope to get the fever down in one or two days. Without the needed medicaments, she’s still in a critical state, Sir,” Harlan nervously glances at Negan, praying he’ll not let his anger out on him. “I will try anything to help her.”

“What will she need to get better?” Negan doesn’t pay attention to the things going on outside of the infirmary. “Doc?”

“Antibiotics and a mattress when she must leave your room again. I tried anything to get hers back, but Amber did a great job at ruining it. She burned the mattress to make sure Y/N doesn’t have the chance to sleep on it ever again,” Negan turns around, a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, doc. I do not intend to let my kiddo go anytime soon. She needs a lot of guidance from me, her savior,” Harlan swallows thickly. He dares not to say a thing, but his stomach tightens imagining all the cruel things Negan could do to you…

“Fuck let’s see what you are hiding underneath those cotton panties,” Negan presses his body against yours to feel your ass against his crotch. “What I would give to fuck that tight little ass.”

“Daddy,” he growls into your ear when you wiggle in your sleep. “Please don’t go. I…I…” Negan’s hand slips between your legs to stroke your inner thigh. “Daddy…”

“I’ll have you impaled on my dick sooner or later, kiddo. I just wish I could fuck you right now. I’m hard as steel but my wives won’t get me off,” before he knows what he’s doing Negan nuzzles his nose into your hair. “You smell so pure, angel…”

“Angel,” your eyes flutter open and you wonder why your panties are soaked. “Daddy?”

“I’m here, kiddo. Your daddy will take good care of you,” you gasp at Negan’s words. “How does my girl feel? Are you still hot?” His voice goes lower when he starts to nibble at your earlobe.

“I feel better,” you lie. The moment you opened your eyes the room started to spin again. “I guess you want me gone. I’ll go back to the common room. Maybe I can find a mattress. If not, Doc Harlan offered I can sleep at the infirmary.”

“You’ll not leave this room, kiddo. You made your bed by following me here, now,” Negan smirks when you dare not to meet his gaze, “you belong with me. Now you are Negan.”

“I’m Negan,” mumbling the words you tug at the blanket covering your bodies. “I can help again. I feel a bit better.”

“If you don’t stop to talk back, I’ll get my dick out and stuff your nasty mouth with it,” you gasp, cheeks heating up at Negan’s words. “Oh, don’t tell me you never had a cock down your throat.” You still refuse to look at Negan. “Fuck me, kiddo. Are you as innocent as I believe you are?”

“I…I was sixteen going seventeen when the world ended. I didn’t have the time to find a guy to fuck,” lips pursed you finally meet Negan’s gaze. “It’s not as if getting fucked was my number one priority.”

“You’re a goddamn virgin,” Negan licks his lips as you look away, nodding silently. “My innocent little kiddo.” Humming to himself Negan feels his cock swell. “You will not leave this room. Now eat and I’ll send the doc to check on you.”

“Fuck me, I’m one lucky bastard,” Negan talks to himself. “I will conquer her virgin cunt and make her mine. No one will touch my little angel.”

“Something wrong Negan?” Simon watches his boss warily. “Did you need my help, boss? I heard you talking about the kid.”

“She’s mine, Simon. That’s all you need to know about the girl at my room. Stay away from her and tell anyone to stay the fuck out of my room. Only the doc and lunch chick are allowed to come to my room from now on,” Negan grunts, eyes trained on his right-hand man. “I dare anyone to touch my girl.”

“Boss, no one would dare to touch the girl. If you say she’s yours, she is yours, Negan. But I can tell everyone to stay away from the girl if you want me to.”

“Must I repeat myself, Simon? I told you to tell everyone to stay the fuck away from Y/N. She’s mine…”

“How do you feel?” Negan’s voice is unusually soft when he sits on the bed to press the back of his hand to your forehead. “Your fever got better according to Carson.”

“I feel a bit better. The room stopped spinning this afternoon,” you feel Negan’s eyes on you when you slip out of the bed to use the bathroom. “Can I take a shower, please?”

“Can I join you?” Negan smirks when you giggle at his question. “I’m good at scrubbing your back and all, kiddo. I can lend you a hand,” you shake your head furiously when Negan looks at you.

“I’m good, but thanks for the offer, boss. I think that I can handle to wash my body. If you want me to, I can go back tonight. I guess you want your room to yourself again,” shuffling from one foot to the other you glance at Negan.

“I told you this morning that you will not leave my room,” Negan gets up to stalk toward you. “I made up my mind and decided to make you my favorite wife.” You gasp when his lips claim yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss. “Now go and have a shower, angel. I’ll get some food for dinner.”

“O-okay,” you stammer. Still shellshocked you walk toward the shower on wobbling legs. “I’ll be right back, Negan.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, Y/N…”

“Good?” You nod, glancing at the food on your plate. “We grew potatoes and tomatoes. I will introduce you to our gardener if you want to.” You nod again. “You got to talk to me, or this conversation will be fucking boring.”

“It’s good, thank you,” mumbling the words you wonder how your life would’ve been if you followed Rick and his people weeks ago. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Oh, angel,” Negan purrs. “I will make you my favorite wife.” His hand slides over your thigh as he looks at you with hunger in his eyes. “Soon you’ll be my good girl and call me daddy.”

“Daddy?” You choke on your food, coughing. “I…I can’t call you daddy. You’re not my dad,” you’ve got no clue why Negan would want you to call him daddy so you look up at him bewildered.

“Angel,” you giggle when Negan nuzzles his face into your neck. “I want you to be good for daddy. Can you be a good girl?”

“I can try…”

Over the next days, Negan is sweet, caring, and gentle. He brings you food, spends as much free time with you as he can effort, and holds you in his arms at night to fend off the nightmares.

Tonight is no different. You sleep peacefully on his chest whilst Negan runs his hands over your back. He smirks when you whimper his name in your sleep, not Rick’s, and his smile grows when your hand slips down to his crotch.

“Soon angel,” Negan whispers. “I’m going to lay claim on you and show Rick you’re mine. When I’m done with you, he’s going to see you’re my little slut, not his nor anyone else’s…”

>> Part 4

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

Savior or devil? Tags

@vicmc624​​; @aubageddon91​​;

[beanie-beebo-writes]

Highway To Hell

Series Summary: An all-too-real nightmare and a missing brother sends Dean, Bobby, and Cas on a frantic search. All the while, what may be a bad dream leads to a probable jump-start to Dean's true worst nightmare, Sam jump-starting the end of the world. Set in season 4; consider this a parallel canonverse fic

Previous chapter, Masterlist

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Please note that I am not racist in any way, as I believe in equality for all. I apologize in advance if anyone is offended by anything that is written. Feedback is always appreciated, so please let me know if it unnecessary for the story.

Once the foggy mixture settles, they see that the scenery around them has changed. They are no longer at the small park, instead they face a long, bare corridor. It is painted with bright hues of white, light grey, and lights from an unknown source. The lights somehow make the pale colors increasingly brighter, but tolerable. Lining the hallway is a multitude of doors, each one inscribed with at least one name and two dates.

"So.. this is heaven?" Dean asks.

"Yes." Gadreel says, hurrying the hunters along wordlessly. "We need to hurry, we probably don't have much time before-"

Suddenly an angel appears straight in their path, then another, and another.

"Going somewhere brother?" The angel in front asks, assuming battle stance.

"Please, we do not ask for trouble." Gadreel concedes, raising his hands defensively.

"I assume you do, bringing these filthy humans here." The angel says.

"Wow, rude." Dean says.

"Who are you? I do not recognize you." The angel says, dismissing Dean's comment.

"Never mind that right now, there seem to be more pressing things at stake." Gadreel says.

"The only thing here that is pressing, is you." The angel says.

"I beg to differ." Bobby adds.

"No one asked you, mortal. Silence." One of the other angels says.

Bobby deadpans but remains quiet for the sake of moving past the angel barricade.

"Where is our Father? I must see him immediately." Gadreel says.

"Haven't you been paying attention? He is long gone. He doesn't care for us anymore." The angel in front says.

"That is not true, he never left." Gadreel says.

"Not to crash your little parade, but he has. But not to worry, because someone else has stepped in." The angel says.

"Well that explains everything." Dean mutters.

"That may be so, but there's still something wrong. I need to see our Father, now." Gadreel says.

"Something wrong? Brother, everything is right! The savior who has stepped in, promises to fulfill all the things our Father never did." One of the other angels says.

"I wouldn't be too sure." Dean says.

"What would you know? You impotent little gnat." The other angel says.

"We cracked open your buddy's brain here, and know some things you may not know. If you don't believe me, by all means, crack it open yourself. Of course, if you can. We're not here to destroy your sanctuary or whatever." Dean says.

"As if." Another angel says.

"You don't need Him, we don't need Him. We can show you something better. Come, my brother, abandon these apes and join us." The other angel says, extending a hand.

"Only if you allow them-" Gadreel gestures to Dean and Bobby "-to come with me. I can assure you, that they mean no harm unless if provoked to do so." He says.

"As it is, humans are not permitted on the premises unless if they have moved onto their personal heavens." The angel says.

"He might be asking, but we aren't." Dean says, sliding out his angel blade.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A voice says from around the corner.

A short, stocky man emerges from an adjacent hallway, empty handed and unreadable. Despite his thinning hair, his head appears full, like a cheap, stale knockoff of Will Ferrell. Unlike the angels, he wears a soft brown cardigan on top of a pale blue dress shirt. As he enters the scene unfolding, all eyes are drawn to his existence.

"Sir, I am so sorry we have disturbed you." The angel in front apologizes frantically. "We didn't mean to distract you from your work, we were just escorting everyone to their proper places."

"Nonsense, there will be no need. These two hunters will be a perfect addition to my plans, they may enter." The man says as he places a hand on the angel's shoulder. "As for Gadreel over there.."

With a flick of his hand, Gadreel completely disappears into thin air. The room stills momentarily with tension. Dean grips tightly onto the hilt of his blade, preparing for a fight.

"You two can follow me, the rest of you, disperse to your previous positions. I can take it from here." The man says.

Gadreel holds his aching head as he forces himself off of the Earth. The world spins viciously around him as he tries to gather the scene in front of him. The friendly demon from before had been thrown onto the ground as if she were the filth she was supposed to be. Gadreel had begun to grow an affinity for her; a shame she had to waste away. Just like he likely would be about to.

He stiffens at the sound of his siblings approaching behind him.

"We have been waiting for you, brother."

The man leads Dean and Bobby into a dark, empty, brick-walled room. He stands in front of one of the walls while the two hunters stand rigidly a few feet away from him.

"Dean Winchester. The least likely person I'd expect to come charging in here. Without his lumbering sidekick as well." The man says.

"Let's cut the monologue crap, okay? We're not here for small talk." Dean says.

The man sighs exasperatedly "You never were the sharing and caring type."

"Where is God?" Dean asks.

"That is a good question. One I have been wondering for many years." The man says.

"I'm not here to play your games." Dean says.

"And I'm not playing any." The man says. "If I wanted to play games, you would be running around like headless chickens right about now."

"You don't think that's what we've been doing this whole time?" Bobby asks, his voice rising with anger.

"I mean, I haven't been watching you, so I really don't know nor care. Do you really think I'm stepping up God's plans for you?" The man says with a chuckle.

"And what is 'stepping up' supposed to mean?" Dean asks.

"I was just about to explain. Sit." The man says.

As if they have a choice, Dean and Bobby are suddenly frozen into place by an invisible force once again.

"And I also want these traitors to be reminded of what their 'precious beings' have done to our Father's wondrous creation." The man says, slightly louder.

Metal bars ascend from the floor as if it were a liquid, until a row of cells fills an empty wall. Inside each are dozens of angels, most of them familiar from months before. In the dead center, Castiel. Dean and Bobby instantly lock eyes with him.

"And what about all of the terrible things we have done to our Father's creations?" Castiel asks.

"Ours had purposes, righteous purposes." The man says.

"You call this righteous?" Hannah asks.

"When you will see the final result, maybe you'll change your mind. Well, you probably won't see it anyway." The man says.

The man turns back to face Dean and Bobby, ignoring the angels glaring at his backside. With the wave of his hand, the scenery around them changes to a leafy landscape. A nude couple wanders aimlessly through the shrubbery until multiple disembodied whispers stop them in their tracks.

"Eat the forbidden fruit."

Snakes slither out from behind a tree in front of them, and swarm the couple, who seem unalarmed. The woman glances at her significant other before picking a gleaming apple from the tree. She takes a large bite to satisfy her famished mind; she soaks it in wordlessly. Her significant other gently takes the apple from her grasp and takes a bite without hesitation.

"Adam and Eve?" Bobby asks.

"The first original sin." The man in the cardigan states.

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean deadpans.

"You were doomed and flawed from the start. You gave into temptation, even though you were specifically ordered not to do so." The man says.

"But you know what's different?" Castiel asks, standing up from his cell bench. "Humans are brave enough to question and venture. You, and your followers, are bound; sheep."

"No, Castiel. If humans were smart enough, they would realize that orders are meant to be followed for a reason." The man says.

"They are a growing species, they learn from evolution. That's the power of free will, which is what our Father wanted for them. You and your kind don't learn, as we always go through the same battles and consequences. You are stagnant." Inias says.

"Unlike the others, Inias, I have learned. This time, for a fact, I know exactly what needs to be done and how my plans will not be foiled." The man says with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, we'll see about that." Bobby says.

"I'm not wishing you any luck to try and stop me, it's not like you'll need it anyway. Anyway, back to your worst hits tour." The man says.

The scene around them warps to a dry cotton field, filled with laboring slaves. Their heavy clothing is dripping with sweat as they continuously pick seed after seed. Luring over them are numerous white men dressed in higher class dress shirts and overalls. Each of them hold a long whip.

"The American civil war. The war that literally tore a country in half. Mind you, this is one of many throughout the globe. You turned on your own species, segregated yourselves because you were 'different'. Seeing the scene itself, do I need to mention more?" The stocky man says, gesturing behind him.

The crack of a whip hitting flesh quickly grabs Bobby and Dean's attention. One of the slaves is bent over in excruciating pain as an overseer stands over him expectantly.

"Don't make me say it again, you piece of garbage. No breaks. Get your ass moving!" The overseer says.

The scene switches to a dimly lit underground coal mine. In the small confined area are groups of working miners, covered in coal and dirt fragments. Moving beams of light project from each of their hard hats as they work.

"Global Warming and the destruction of our Father's creations, plural." The man says.

The scene shifts again, this time to the gates before Auschwitz I.

"More death and segregation of your own kind."

They transport to a bloodied battlefield across a desecrated Iraqi city.

"War, more death, segregation."

The man snaps his fingers and they are all instantly back in the dark brick room they had started in. The room is silent with no change in attitude.

"Must I say more?" He says, clasping his hands together.

"Oh please, go on." Dean says sarcastically.

The man chuckles. "You know, I kind of like you. It's a shame you don't see what we see."

"Oh I see it, I see all of it. I see all of the crap our species has done and still does, but it doesn't mean you're any better than us." Dean says.

"Oh, I believe it does. We are God's chosen." The man says.

"The way you locked up your own kind over here? It's the same thing we did and still do. So you're wrong, sorry to tell you." Bobby says.

"I see what you're getting at, but you're actually wrong. God's chosen cannot be flawed, they must be ideal. These runts are, what they are." The man says. "I'm not really sure why I'm arguing with you, it's pointless. Although at least you have some more hindsight."

The man silently disappears momentarily and returns with an unconscious Sam in his stubby arms. He grunts and tosses his limp body to the floor.

"What the hell?!" Bobby exclaims, trying with all of his might to move his frozen body.

"Don't you dare, make another move on him you son of a bitch." Dean growls.

"Oh, don't worry, he doesn't feel a thing anyway. He won't and neither will you once I'm done."

"If you so lay a hand on them, I will make sure you will never walk again." Castiel says, gripping his cell bars tightly.

"A threat you will never deliver, because it will be the same for you and your pack." The man says.

"Like we won't put up a fight?" Another angel says.

"You won't even have the chance." The man says. "Now to initiate phase two."

He closes his eyes and concentrates for a brief moment before expectantly opening them again. He furrows his brows at his audience in front of him.

"Oh, that's right. You terrestrial monkeys can't hear a thing that's going on. Let me amp up the volume." The man says.

Suddenly the room is filled with a mixture of sounds signifying agonizing pain, causing Dean and Bobby to feel sick to their stomachs. They look up to the angels to see their faces had been painted in horror and shock. Several embrace one another while others frantically try to find a way out of the containment cells.

"Our Father had a plan, you monster!" Hannah says, human tears filling to the brim.

"As if. If he did, the world wouldn't be the way it was." The man says, turning to the three hunters, who had just crumpled to the floor in excruciating pain. "What you and your entire species is feeling right now, is all of the effects you did to the Earth, just sped up a bit. I also added a little extra special something for you three, since you only make the planet ten times worse, just by existing."

Dean and Bobby clutch their throats as the room boils and depletes of oxygen. As they grasp for whatever life is remaining, they turn to each other and then to Sam. Despite being completely unconscious, Sam is writhing and choking on the same air Dean and Bobby are breathing. They both uselessly try to move to Sam, but are still restrained by an invisible grip. Dean whines audibly as he struggles. The man chuckles before turning back to the caged angels.

"Who's better now?" He asks.

Suddenly the room violently shakes and becomes unbearably bright. Dean and Bobby cover their ears as a high pitched ringing slowly increases in volume. The angels and the short man widen their eyes as they stare straight into the source of the light. As everything in the room returns back to its original state, Bobby and Dean open their eyes.

"...Chuck?"

"Metatron, we need to talk."

[disasterdeacy]

Moonlight Mother {John Deacon x Reader}

A/N: I legit have no words except I am so sorry to my mother, our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and to John Richard Deacon. Warnings: SIN!!! Y’all, seriously don’t read this if you’re under 18.

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader Time Period: 1981, aka the best era of John Deacon, THANK YOU ROCK MONTREAL

Word Count: 4515 (god)

 John dropped his bag, sighing into his hands as he rubbed his face. The concerts had been absolutely incredible, and he had had a great time, but god he missed his bed; and by bed he meant wife. The two weeks he had been away from Y/N were the worst two weeks of his life, phone calls 3x a day weren’t enough. He needed her, in every way imaginable.

 Before he had left for Canada, he had wanted to tell Y/N that he wanted to try and have a baby. After all, he loved this woman more than he loved being alive, who else would be rather have a family with? However, he hadn’t managed to get the chance to ask her in person before he left, as the two had been rather occupied. He had talked to both Roger and Brian during their time in Canada, asking their advice on how to bring up the subject of children to his young wife.

 His two band mates had only smiled and made jokes about how the two already went at it like two catholic rabbits, and that with his luck she was already pregnant. But John knew that wasn’t true. Two days before he left, he found a negative pregnancy test in the bathroom rubbish bin. He had been a little disheartened by the since pink line, but he also knew that they had plenty of time to have a family, after all Y/N wasn’t even 25 yet, and he was only 30. The thought of being a dad had always made John smile, the possibilities were endless when it came to his future children, and the knowledge that he would be responsible for the next generation of Deacons made him feel more like a man than he had ever felt before.

 When he had been younger, before he met Y/N, John only assumed that the only reason he wanted children was to carry on his name, and pass on his genes to. He had never imagined that there would be this insatiable desire inside of him to put a baby in his wife’s womb. Ever since he had first seen her wide hips and deliciously plump breasts, accentuated by those damn high waisted pants and a turtleneck which was too tight to be comfortable, he couldn’t stop imagining pumping her full of his cum, impregnating her over and over and over again.

 His cock ached at the thought of seeing his beautiful young wife, round and glowing, carrying his child in her womb, a child which his own cock has placed there. It was an image that he had cum to, too many times to count. Especially these last 2 weeks he’d been away, there had been nothing that could keep his cock restrained when it came to the thought of his cum dripping down Y/N’s leg, knowing that he more than likely had just put a baby in her.

 It was a thought that John had to stop himself from having as he walked through the door of your home, according to his watch it was 3:24am, Y/N would definitely be asleep. He sighed, he wanted nothing more than to snuggle in bed behind her, slipping his achingly hard cock in between her ass cheeks to wake her, before he would pound her poor little pussy into oblivion. However, he knew that the two of them needed to have a talk about it before he just went and got her pregnant. It wasn’t just him he had to think about, he loved his wife, and he wanted Y/N to be the one to decide when they had children. After all, he was just the sperm donor, she was the one who had to do all of the heavy lifting throughout the pregnancy.

 Little did John know, Y/N had been having the same thoughts. Ever since her and John had met, she knew that she wanted to have his children, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. John was the sweetest man she had ever met, he was loving, kind, caring, funny, and insanely attractive. She loved him with every fiber of her being, and without him, she knew that she wouldn’t be half the woman she was today. So, when her period was a few days late before John was due to go to Montreal, she was ecstatic.

The young woman had waited for John to leave for rehearsal, before she rushed down to the corner store and purchased a single home pregnancy test. When she returned home she wasted absolutely no time before taking the test, so when it came back negative and her period came only a few hours later, she was slightly upset. Although she knew that she and John had all the time in the world, she couldn’t get over the way the possibility of being pregnant with John’s child made her feel.

 She had never wanted children before meeting John, and now here she was, masturbating every night to the mere thought of John’s cock spilling a baby into her womb. It was the single hottest fantasy she could imagine, and all she wanted was to feel her husband’s cum fill her up, she wanted it to stay inside of her all day, running down her legs whenever she attempted to walk. Y/N had gone to sleep the night before John was due to come home, in nothing but one of John’s oversized T shirts, knowing it would drive him absolutely wild when he walked into their shared room. Her pussy was dripping when she went to bed, the mere thought of John impregnating her enough.

   John had managed to completely strip down to nothing but his boxers by the time he made his way to him and his wife’s bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing leading from the front door, all the way to their bedroom door. He knew he would get an ear full about it in the morning, but at this particular moment in time, he did not give two shits. All he wanted to do at this very moment was girl up next to his gorgeous wife, and sleep for hours. Well, that wasn’t ALL he wanted, but he that would be all he would be allowed to do until morning came. However, when he quietly entered the room, the sight before him took his breath away.

 His young wife was asleep atop the covers, dressed in only one of his many oversized shirts. While they were usually quite large on him, his wife’s curves filled out every one of his shirts better than any supermodel could ever hope to fill out a dress on the runway. Her long legs were bent at the knee, one crossed atop the other, giving him a perfect view of her ass, an ass that he had so often imagined while away. He shuddered at the sight of his wife, so angelic, and yet so devilish. His cock was even harder than it had been when he walked through the door, pressing against the constraints of his boxers, begging to be set free. John moaned as he felt the extremely sensitive tip of his clock rub against the cotton material, he knew that he couldn’t sleep like this. Conversation be damned, he needed to be buried balls deep in his wife’s tight pussy. He needed to fuck Y/N, and he needed to fuck her now.

Running a hand through his curly hair, John Deacon all bit ran across the room to the bed which his sleeping wife occupied, her figure unmoving. He slipped in bed behind her, wrapping a toned arm around middle, pulling her backside flush against him. He groaned at the feeling of his cock on her ass, it was almost unbearable. The sudden movement caused Y/N to stir, her sleepy eyes opening only slightly, adjusting to the moonlight filled room.

At first she didn’t know what was going on, but as soon as she woke slightly, she felt the all to familiar feeling of her husband’s arm around her middle, and the even more familiar feeling of his pulsing cock pressed into her backside. Y/N smirked and began grinding her ass into the metal like rod of a penis her husband was pressing against her, knowing that this always managed to get a response from the man. And what a response it was.

 “You saucy little minx, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now? What you’ve been doing to me for the past 2 weeks?”

John’s voice was deeper than Y/N had ever heard it, and the feeling of his hot breath against her neck caused her to moan like a wanton slut. She couldn’t take nor facing him anymore, so she flipped around to face John, taking his right hand into her own.

“I can feel exactly what I’ve been doing to you, would you like to feel what you’ve been doing to me?”

John was staring her straight in the eyes, the moonlight showing her that his pupils were blown, making his grey eyes seem almost black in the darkness. Her words had somehow made his cock even harder that it had been before, and he could feel the precum leaking from it like a faucet that just wasn’t turned off properly. What happened next, John wasn’t expecting at all, but knowing his wife, definitely should have been.

 Upon seizing John’s right hand, Y/N latched her mouth onto her husband’s, slipping her tongue into his as she also slid his fingers into her soaking wet pussy. John moaned louder than she was used to, the vibrations from his throat reverberating through her own. His fingers soon went to work, coating themselves in his wife’s wetness, which wasn’t seeming like it was ever going to stop.

 “God John! I’ve missed the way you make me feel.”

Y/N moaned out into John’s mouth, her hands clutching at his curly locks, God she loved this hairstyle on him. His fingers had gone straight into her soaking pussy, 4 fingers were completely buried inside his wife, curling so he could find that special spot that always made Y/N cum hard and fast. His thumb was perfectly perched on the little bundle of nerves at the top of her gorgeous mound, rubbing lazy circles around it, his pace making Y/N feel as though he was killing her in the beat way possible.

 John loved playing with his wife’s pussy, it was one of his favorite things in the world. Feeling the way she clenched and released around his fingers, depending on just how fast he was pounding, or how slight his fingers were curling. However, as much as he loved their usual foreplay games, tonight, John simply wanted to pound his wife into the mattress with the fury of 1,000 gods.

Just as Y/N was nearing her release, mouth wide, eyes clenched shut from the sheer weight of the pleasure John was giving her, he removed his fingers from her, bringing them up to his mouth to clean.

The loss of the full feeling caused Y/N to groan unhappily, however when she saw John greedily lapping at her wetness on his fingers, her annoyance turned to unbridled lust. Before she even knew what she was doing, she had climbed atop John, straddling his waist as she attached her mouth to his neck, biting and kissing every inch she could. John was speechless, his cock pinned between his wife’s bare thighs and his own stomach. He was in absolute heaven, his wife’s gorgeous mouth marking him as her’s, something they both loved to do to one another.

When the pressure on his cock became too much, John gently took hold of Y/N’s face, pulling her from his neck to look him in the eyes. The two lovers stared at one another, love and adoration seemingly poured from every pore on their bodies.

“I love you so much my darling, more than you know.” John couldn’t help but allow the words to flow from his mouth as he cupped Y/N’s cheek, pulling her towards him to place a single kiss to the top of her head.

This woman sat atop him was the only person in the entire world who truly understood and loved him, completely and selflessly. All sexual motives aside, there was no woman alive that he would rather be given the honor to call the mother of his children.

After John’s display of love, Y/N simply couldn’t wait any longer. Reaching between herself and John, she quickly lined her husband’s throbbing cock up against her and before John knew what was happening, his cock was completely enveloped by his wife’s waiting heat. He groaned at the feeling, sitting up in the bed and wrapping his arms around Y/N, bringing her towards him, burying his face in her ample chest. “Fuck Y/N, you feel so good.” John gasped into his wife’s chest, his arms tightening around her waist as she rode him slowly, taking his cock completely inside of her. Y/N threw her head back in ecstasy, the feeling of her husband’s cock filling her up completely after two weeks apart almost too much for her to handle. John felt the same way, whenever Y/N took the reigns and rode him, he could never hold himself together for long. He didn’t want that tonight. John wanted to take his wife hard, and for as long as possible. He wanted to savor this moment, he wanted to make his wife cum as many times as possible before he completely filled her to the brim with his cum, hopefully putting a baby in her beautiful belly. Y/N’s soft moans were only egging him on, causing his cock to grow even more inside of her, her wetness running down the throbbing length, dripping down his taunt balls, onto the sheet below them. “God, John, I’ve missed you so much, my fingers could never make me feel this way.” Y/N grabbed hold of John’s head, bringing his lips to her’s, biting his bottom lip, hoping this would cause a reaction. To most people, John wasn’t exactly seen as a sex go, most people would be incorrect. While John’s sweet and loving side usually dominated their everyday life, behind closed doors, John was an absolute deviant. He was rough, dominating, and oh so good. Y/N had been surprised the first time John had let that side of him show, she couldn’t walk for almost 2 days afterwards; the whole time she was in bed, John never left her side, running her bath after bath, massaging her when she asked, and placing soft kisses along her entire body. Since then, things had only gotten better. Of course the two of them didn’t have aggressive sex every night, sometimes John wanted Y/N to take control, to be soft, loving, and to simply make love. Tonight wasn’t that night though.

After being apart for two weeks, their thoughts running rampant with images of swollen bellies, throbbing cocks leaking with cum, and shaking thighs, neither John nor Y/N wanted soft and gentle. John groaned into Y/N’s mouth at the feeling of her teeth against his bottom lip, if she wanted to play that game, he would play. Y/N soon got the answer to her unasked question when John quickly pulled out of her, flipping the two of them so her back was pressed against the mattress. She moaned at the feeling of John’s roughness, looking into his eyes, pupils blow. He looked like a madman, his eyes wild and hungry, mouth agape, spit running from his lips onto her chest. Y/N reached up to grab onto his curly hair, hoping to bring him to her neck so he could mark her as his, she fucking loved when he did that. She loved showing the world who she belonged to, and John loved it just as much as she did. However, John had other plans.

Just as Y/N went run her fingers through his hair, John grabbed her wrists in his hands, forcing them to the bed above her. “No ma’am, tonight, you listen to me. You do what I tell you, you don’t speak, you just listen.” John’s last word was drawn out, almost a breathless moan, as he leaned forward to take the lobe of her ear into his mouth, gently biting it, his breath hot and wet on Y/N’s neck. “John..” “No. If you talk, you don’t get to cum. If you speak, I’ll leave you here, soaking wet and pleading for release. I’ll tie you to the bed, and sleep in the guest room, screaming out as I cum on my stomach thinking of your pretty little mouth and gorgeous pussy. Understood?” Y/N clenched her eyes shut as John pressed a single, calloused finger inside of her, moaning and nodding in agreement with her husband.

She needed this, she needed him inside of her, more than she needed air. John seemed satisfied with his wife’s answer, grinning into her neck as he placed a single kiss against the junction between her jaw and ear. “Look what you’ve done to be baby, look at how much my cock needs you.” He sat up slightly, taking his cock into his hand. Y/N sat up on her elbows to get a better look at her husband, and what she saw made her whine. John’s cock was red, throbbing with anticipation, his cock head was nearly purple with need, precum seeping out of it nonstop, coating his hand as he rubbed a single finger along his slit. He knew exactly what he was doing to his wife, and he didn’t even have to look at her sopping wet center to know that. Y/N had her bottom lip completely inside of her mouth, teeth biting down hard enough that he was sure she would bring blood. John released his cock, making sure his fingers were coated in his own arousal. “It looks like I’ve made a bit of a mess darling, could you help me?” Y/N knew exactly what John wanted, so she nodded like the good girl she was, and John stuck four of his completely saturated fingers inside of her waiting mouth. She moaned at the taste of her husband’s precum, sucking his fingers while swirling her tongue around the tips, her eyes meeting his own, before closing them to savor his taste. The sound of his wife’s delicate moans, accompanied by the feeling of her mouth around his fingers, sucking his precum off of his fingers like a good little slut, was too much for John to handle. He pulled his fingers from her mouth, and before Y/N even had time to comprehend what was happening, John had buried himself deep inside of her once more. Y/N gasped at the sudden intrusion, throwing her head back, giving John full access to her neck, which he soon took complete advantage of. John was viciously fucking her now, his cock drilling into her at a speed that she had previously never seen John move. Y/N was gasping for breath, her arms clinging to John to keep herself grounded. John had his head resting against her’s, his arms on either side of her body to keep himself from crushing her. “God Y/N, I want to fuck a baby into you.” The words had fallen from his mouth before he even knew what had happened, he didn’t know why he said it, he hadn’t been planning on even bringing up his fantasy until they had spoken about their wishes fully, but the feeling of Y/N’s muscles clenching around his cock coupled with her fingernails digging into his back muscles just made the words he had been bursting to speak spill out.

Once he realized what he had done, John halted his movements, lifting his head from Y/N’s, and looking into her eyes, worried at what he might see. He stared into her eyes for a beat, his mouth wide, ready to apologize, his previous demeanor gone, replaced by the John everyone was used to seeing. However, just as he opened his mouth to speak, he closed it as he felt his wife’s pussy clamp down around his cock. Y/N couldn’t help it, the words that had come from her husband’s mouth had affected her in a way she hadn’t expected. “You want to fuck a baby in me?” Y/N didn’t even care about John’s previous threat, she needed to hear it again. John looked down at you, his eyes wide. “Uh, I, I’m.” He couldn’t stop stuttering, he didn’t want to freak Y/N out, it was a pretty intense statement. “Because, I want you to fuck a baby into me John. I want you to fuck me hard until you cum as deep inside of my womb.” Y/N leaned up, taking John by the back of his head, pulling his mouth to hers. John groaned loudly at his wife’s words, taking her by the back of the head, crushing his mouth to her own. “You want me to cum deep inside of you baby? You want me to fuck you until your womb is absolutely filled with my cum?” All Y/N could do was nod and scream out John’s name as he ferociously fucked her, his cock finding that special spot deep inside of her body that always made her cum harder than she ever imagined possible. “I’m going to fuck you every night until your poor little pussy is absolutely demolished. My cum is going to be leaking from you until your belly is swollen with our baby.” John had his hands on their headboard now, anchoring himself so he could fuck Y/N harder and faster than he ever had, spurred on by the image of Y/N in this exact same position, her womb full with the life of his child. “God, John, I’m so close love!” Y/N couldn’t hold back anymore, John hitting that same spot over and over, the thought of his cum filling her up until she got pregnant, the feral look in his eyes, all coupled together with the fact that she hadn’t had him in two weeks, was too much to handle. Seeing how close his wife was, and knowing he wouldn’t be far behind her, John removed his hands from the headboard and lifted her legs over his shoulders, allowing for his cock to go deeper than he thought possible. “Fuck, Fuck! John!” Y/N arched her back, a pleasure far more intense than anything she had ever felt before washing over her entire body. Feeling Y/N losing herself underneath him, her walls clenching him like a vice, John came, a scream caught in his throat. He could feel stream after stream of cum bursting from his cock, imbedding itself deep in his wife, it just didn’t seem to end. Y/N was still recovering from her own orgasm when she felt her husband lose himself inside of her, the warmth of his cum erupting from his cock filling her. She couldn’t believe just how much cum was spilling from her husband, his cock was still twitching inside of her and she could feel his cum leaking out of her vagina. Once the aftershocks of his orgasm had ceased, and he could think straight once again, he gently moved Y/N’s legs down from off of his shoulders, making sure to keep his cock buried deep inside her core, wanting to keep his cum inside of her for as long as possible. He didn’t know if that would increase their chances of getting pregnant, but it felt right. John was absolutely spent, he had never had an orgasm that intense, and he had never fucked anyone as aggressively as he had just fucked Y/N. Y/N was running her fingers through his hair as he laid his head on her breasts, still breathing as heavily as she had been before John had finished. “Did you mean it John?” She placed a kiss to the top of his sweaty head, her hands running up and down his back. She desperately hoped that he did, and it wasn’t something that he had just mentioned in the midst of sex. John raised his head from Y/N’s chest, a sleepy smile on his face. “Of course I meant it love, I’ve been thinking about it ever since I met you. I mean, just think about how gorgeous our children would be.” John began ticking Y/N’s sides, laughing as she shrieked. She began laughing, struggling against his fingers. “John! Be serious love. You’re ready?” Y/N grabbed John’s hands, bringing them to her mouth to place small kisses on the knuckles. John’s eyes softened as he felt his wife’s lips against his hand, this wasn’t how he had planned this conversation to go. He sighed and regrettably pulled out of Y/N wincing at the loss of warmth, sitting up, he pulled Y/N up with him as well, waiting until the two of them were sat in front of each other, legs crossed. John took Y/N’s hands back into his own, before speaking.

“Y/N, love, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. From the moment I met you, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, and there is no woman who I would rather have be the mother of my children. You’re kind, loving, hilarious, and I wasn’t joking when I said that our children would be beautiful.” Y/N laughed at John, of course he would be the sweetest human being alive after pounding her poor body into oblivion. Y/N grabbed hold of John’s shoulders, pulling him towards her until the two were lying against the bed once more, John curled into her side. She smiled down at him, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Well, I would be honored to be the mother of your children John Richard Deacon.” John’s eyes began to water as he looked up at Y/N, he had never felt a love so strongly before. “I love you so much Y/N, more than you could ever know.” John had tears running down his cheeks as he reached up and kissed his wife, cupping her face in his hands. “Well, I should hope so John, after all, I am going to be the mother of your children.” Y/N’s seemingly sweet and innocent comment greatly affected John, his cock becoming hard once more at the thought of his wife carrying his child. Y/N rose her eyebrows at the sudden feeling of her husband’s hard cock pressed against her side. “Already John, really?” She couldn’t help but laugh as he blushed a deep red. “Well love, like I said, I won’t rest until you’re swollen with our child.” John had climbed back on top of her at this point, smiling down at Y/N as she rolled her eyes. “Then you’d better get to it Mr. Deacon.” John grinned and flipped them over so she was on top of him. “With pleasure Mrs. Deacon”

  @itsametaphorbriansblog @deakysgirl @localspacegod @greenie-frog @carlquesarito @deaky-dandelion @fearless2beme @spookyfrances @annas-unicorun @shy-deacy

[pamphletstoinspire]

What are Swaddling Clothes and What is Their Significance?

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him up in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn (Luke 2:7).

What are swaddling clothes and what is their significance?

There are many comments offered on various websites about this. Some are purely allegorical but others are drawn from Jewish custom at the time and the service these shepherds rendered for the priests of the temple. I will relate for you the Jewish custom and an interesting speculation concerning who the shepherds actually were in relation to the Passover sacrifice.

Swaddling clothes, according to every commentator I have read, were bands of cloth, probably cotton, not really “clothes” as in a garment. The custom of the East was to wrap the new-born in these strips of cloth after washing the body and anointing it in powdered salt. First the baby was laid on its back diagonally on a square sheet of this cotton cloth. After folding the cloth around the infant the shroud was tied with the ribbons. Then the baby was wrapped, limbs unextended, with the “swaddling cloth.” This binding prevented the baby from hurting himself by kicking or scratching or rolling over. Our Lady likely would have seen this done in Nazareth, but, if not there, she surely would have seen it done by the midwives at the birth of John the Baptist.

An interesting speculation was offered by one blog commenter (who was taught it in a Bible class) that the priests of the temple would set aside strips from their used, embroidered, liturgical vestment to be given as a gift to their new-born Davidic king. If this was true, then perhaps Zachary, who was a priest, and Elizabeth gave these strips to Mary, the Mother of their God and King, for His Holy Birth. Our Lady would have had these precious bands with her for the census trip to Bethlehem, the city of David, in anticpation of the coming of the Christ Child. This is certainly a pious thought to consider.

Now, how does Saint Luke relate the message of the angel to the shepherds of Bethlehem? “And the angel said to them: Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, that shall be to all the people: For, this day, is born to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord, in the city of David. And this shall be a sign unto you. You shall find the infant wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger” (2:10-12).

And this shall be a sign unto you? How could swaddling clothes a “sign” if all babies were wrapped in such? A baby in a “manger” yes, that would be a sign, but what of these bands? There is a tradition that the shepherds, who in the hillside were not too far from Jerusalem, provided the “lambs without blemish” for the temple sacrifice at Passover. That first new-born lamb, to protect it from blemish (as it was required to be by the Law), was wrapped in swaddling cloth and placed in a food trough apart from the other sheep. Ah, this would be a sign indeed! They would find the Savior, Christ the Lord, wrapped just like they wrapped their own precious lamb after its birth.

This was Our Lord’s first binding, one of love. His second binding was when He was taken away by His enemies, His hands tied together by cords, in the Garden of Gethsemane. The third binding was the bands that wrapped Him in His funeral shroud. Mary removed the first bands. His executioners removed the ropes of the second binding so that He might carry the Cross of salvation. And, on Easter Sunday, the Glorified Christ Himself removed the cloths that bound His Body around His funeral shroud.

“By His bruises we are healed” (Isaias 53:5). By His bindings we are set free: “And presently he that had been dead came forth, bound feet and hands with winding bands; and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus said to them: Loose him, and let him go” (John 11:44).

BY: BRIAN KELLY

From: https://www.pamphletstoinspire.com/

[sheepishlyshippingsheep]

Midnight Café Ch 2 - Inuyasha Fanfic

By sheepishlyshippingsheep

Rated T | AU | Romance, Comedy | Pairs: InuKag, MirSan, SessRin [for now]

3358 words

Chapter 2 -  Demons in (a piece of) heaven

Kagome could feel herself laughing inside her mind, like the hours before the present condition she is now is some kind of a big joke the gods played especially for her.

“Not a good joke, Kami. Not a good joke.”

Who would have thought that just some moments ago, she was running to spare her life from three men, a knife almost got her skin dripping with blood, and a man whom she once called an angel but was actually a demon, came and saved her? Just to top off the whole comedy scenario that was written specifically for her, some other guy comes and asks her to be the woman who would bear his child.

Before she could even take offence or feel creeped out by the proposal, the next thing she knows, said guy gets hit on the head by his silver-haired companion. She gets invited inside the abandoned building which in a snap, is actually like a mini version of a palace. And finally, here she is, trying to replay everything in her mind.

That was the best description Kagome could think of and if that sounds absurd, she knows well that she tried to make sense of everything. She deserves a pat on the back for staying sane.

If she knew that life would be this crazy at this age, Kagome wished that she was transported back to the feudal era fighting some monsters with sacred arrows. In such setting, everything could be absurd to the point that she would get immune to it, at least that is what she thinks.

With a wink from the short-haired man and a “We’ll be back. For now, just rest, my lady,” Kagome is left inside, with an emptied glass after she quenched the burning of her throat a few moments ago.

Seated on a white sofa, with golden piping and linings, surrounded by scarlet-hued cotton pillows, with different brands of wine and a tower of glasses presented on a table near her, the young lady can only be still and keep herself company amidst the previous scenarios.

While she is mustering up all the calm left in her exhausted body to be able to think straightly, her gray eyes could not stop from taking in the beauty of the place that has accepted her right now – from its red carpeted floors to its white walls, to the glass-beaded chandeliers that are hung.

Red. White. Gold. Oddly, she is reminded of her savior a while ago who sported similar colors – a red top, silver hair, and golden eyes. Wherever he is now, Kagome will not deny how his entrance and appearance is etched on her memory.

But now is not the time to be thinking about him. With the absence of a mirror near her, she starts to look at herself from her chest to her arms, up to her uncoated feet.

Some silky ribbons embedded on her green dress are now disarrayed. The smooth cloth that hugged her figure so fully now looks like some crumpled green lump. Her dark curly hair, while not damp anymore because of the place’s air condition, is nowhere to be labelled as ‘neat’ when she can feel some of her locks tickle the skin exposed on her back. The marathon with the muscular men earlier may have taken some or most of the hair ornaments that once decorated her head.

While she is not soaked from her sweat anymore, she feels sticky all over her neck, arms, and legs, especially her feet that feel sore, numb, and painful all at the same time. If there is a word for such a feeling, Kagome has no idea.

After pitying her current state (though thankful that the hardest parts are over) her eyes land on the classic paintings that graced the walls, the candles that are lit on the sides, and the baskets of fruits centering the numbers of wooden tables. Kagome has yet to see the whole place, but from where her vision could take her, the place is too huge for just two guys.

In fact, there are far too many cushioned seats, unless both guys were seat freaks, which she doubts is the real case.

“Is it a bar…” before the tone of her question could even bend on the last syllable, she starts, “or some kind of restaurant?” Kagome could not help but wonder. The place looks too fancy to be a bar. While it could pass as a restaurant, the choice of seats is not ideal.

She is not new to the lifestyle of the rich, given her boss is a—she softly gasps, caught in between her breath. Now is not really the time to be reminded of her boss… Kagome bites her lip, too late that the memory already surfaced. She tries her best to shrug the weighing thoughts off and she shakes her head and close her eyes.

Feeling more composed, she takes a deep breath and once again opens her eyes to the sight before her.

Skipping back to her previous line of thought, this is definitely her first to step in a place that looked so fancy like some piece of heaven on earth, in the middle of the darkness of the city.

“What… is this place exactly?” she continues to look up, taking note of the intricate patterns even on the ceilings. The place is too well-thought and well-designed to be a shady kind of place too.

“It’s a host club café,” a man answers her, which almost jolts her upon hearing such silky voice. Without seeing the face of the person, Kagome is positive that this person is different from the two men she met earlier.

Kagome acknowledges the presence of a beautiful man with dark silky ebony hair. He has blood-red eyes that welcome her presence as well. Just like the couple of guys that Kagome interacted, this one is also wearing a suit, except that his was dark gray matched with a darker shade of an inner dress shirt. He bows, “Sorry to startle you. I just wanted to answer the query.”

The 23-year-old nods and waves her hands to dismiss the idea that he had to be apologetic. So it was not only the two men earlier,  she notes, now more curious to what the place really is.

“A host club café, you say?”

Kagome has heard of host clubs, but the idea of entering one has never crossed her mind even for simple research purposes or just ‘to try it out.’

Men who entertain women? Drink with guests? These ideas float on her mind, but she still cannot fully grasp what a host club really is.

He nods, and hands her a towel, “Yes. Our manager will be here in a bit to explain everything in detail.”

Kagome bows once again as thanks to the man before her. As if on cue, the man with a short hair comes back with a basin of water on hand.

“My lady, sorry to make you wait. Here, I warmed this up to soak your feet,” the guy kneels just before her to place the basin on the carpeted floor. She whispers another word of gratitude as she lets her feet touch the water.

She flinches at first, suddenly feeling the pain from her decision of running on the streets with barefoot. But letting the water surround her skin, she breathes, glad that no signs of open wounds graced her feet.

Right now, Kagome feels so relieved that she did not step on any sharp object earlier, fearful of what injury she may have gotten.

The dark-haired lady sighs feeling relaxed as her feet touch the inner smoothness of the basin, surrounded by the warmth of the water. The temperature also soothes the pain her legs have been enduring. She stares down at the now-murky water, hoping that she is not in any way infected with all that dirt.

Satisfied, the man kneeling smiles at her.

“If you will excuse me,” the short-haired man says slowly, stands up, and turns his back on her.

On close inspection, Kagome notices that the man’s hair was tied really small and low. It almost amazes her that he is able to tie such small amount and short length of hair. She also sees the piercings on his left ear.

He claps, “Everyone, we have a guest to greet!”

The two men exchange some looks as a door appears between the paintings that Kagome is admiring earlier. If the door materializing out of thin air did not surprise her anymore, she is pretty sure that the events earlier numbed some of her senses.

The door looks like any other regular door, carved in wood with a golden knob. It does have a golden plaque in the middle, but it was too far away for Kagome to read.

As the door opens, two more breath-taking men come out – one with significantly straight silver hair and purple markings on his face and another with long black hair tied in a high pony tail. The silver-haired man is wearing a white suit, with piercing golden eyes. While the dark-haired one is in a brown suit, to which the color makes his azure eyes stand out.

“Isn’t it a bit too early to call us, Miroku?” pony-tail guy asks, as he yawns, fangs showing. He scratches on his chest, exposed with the lack of buttons of his shirt.

The other man stays silent though, seemingly uninterested.

“Let’s just wait for—” “Hey, Miroku, I finally found the wench’s shoes. Happy?”

Kagome almost giggles at man called Miroku’s rolling eyes because it seems that Mr. Sensitive ears likes to interrupt people who are speaking.

“Alright! Everyone’s here, my lady,” that catches a bit of Kagome off guard. Right before her, there were five men in formal wear, each having his own appeal. Indeed, this was a host club. Just a while ago, she is admiring her savior’s features, but right now (though she is not saying that his appearance downgraded) the place is exuding in beauty. She suddenly feels out of place, especially with her current appearance.

“Let me introduce everyone and myself. I am Miroku, the manager of this place,” he points at himself and winks at her.

He points his hand to the black-haired man that accompanied her earlier, “This is Naraku.”

“A pleasure,” he says, giving a short bow.

“He is in charge of keeping the café’s illusion barrier.”

Naraku clears his throat then replies, “I would prefer to call it aesthetics, Mr. Miroku.”

Miroku rolls his eyes, then gestures his hands to the man in a pony-tail, “This is Koga of the wolf tribe,” he introduces as the man of topic says a “Yo” with a smirk.

“Next to go Koga is Sesshomaru,” Miroku continues, as Kagome looks at the man in a white suit, who seems to have an unreadable expression. She almost waits for a brief introduction like with the others, but the cold sweat visible from the talkative man is enough reason for her to not keep her hopes up.

“And of course,” the manager regains his cool and  looks at the last unnamed guy in the room, “This is Inuyasha, you must know him already.”

“Keh,” he grunts, with a pair of silver high heels that is Kagome’s, hanging on his clawed fingers.

Kagome makes it a note to react politely to the introduction. Finding strength return to her legs, she stands, feet still in the basin, as she bows. “I am Kagome, nice to meet you.”

Fearing that her weight may crush or break the container, she immediately takes back her seat.

“I really… thank you for the hospitality and for taking care of me,” she manages to continue.

Inuyasha raises a dark brow on her. “At least this woman knows how to thank other people, huh.”

The hanyou taps his fingers in an impatient manner. What is Miroku thinking, bringing this woman to their place and introducing everyone like they are having family introductions?

Heck, why is she in their café in the first place?! And why did he ask him to go and retrieve her shoes like he is some kind of dog?

Inuyasha has a lot of questions right now that need to be answered once Miroku is done with his shenanigans. But right now, everything is irritating every inch of his body, especially that woman.

There really is something about her that is making him feel so unsettled. He needs to be away from her right now.

Kagome’s left brow twitches, narrowing her gray eyes at Inuyasha, “As far as I can recall, I did thank you earlier, Mr. Sensitive ears.”

At first, there is silence… but a burst of roaring laughter then fills the room and the crowd finds out that it is Koga, who is emitting such laughter, “Hah, don’t tell me ya are whining about your dog ears to this pretty lady, hahaha! Can’t believe ranting to us about that everyday is not enough.” Miroku, on the other hand, is trying his best to suppress his own.

Inuyasha is supposed to ignore him until Koga started saying, “I think I like her already.”

“Well your wolf ears must be getting rusty then to not hear that you are not even part of our conversation.”

Man named Koga returns an irritated smirk, ready to land a smack on the half-demon, “Did ya say something, mutt?”

“Ya still didn’t hear? Want me to spell it out to your dull wolf ears?” Inuyasha says, also readying his fists.

Kagome looks at the dog demon and the wolf demon back and forth, like watching an intense ping pong match.

Miroku comes in between the two demons to clear the building tension, “Now, now you guys, pup fights are over at this hour.”

“PUP FIGHTS!?” unison uproars from both that Miroku immediately dismisses as something like a normal scenario at the place, “So as I was saying, Lady Kagome,” the mention of her name gets her attention once again.

“Together with Inuyasha, Koga, Sesshomaru, and Naraku, we are running this host club. However, it only opens at night at 10:00. Seeing the illusion vanish earlier than expected like what happened just a while ago,” Miroku emphasizes on the words and gives Naraku a look, to which the latter just smiles back “was an accident.”

“My vision for the club is to treat women – god-sent creatures – the way they deserve to be treated. Thus, this club was born,” he continues, eyes sparkling.

“However, just to avoid the actions that can be caused by the passionate emotions that may arise from our customers, we decided to only open on selected hours every evening and to hide and make our place inaccessible outside these hours. This also serves as a resting period for our staff.”

Miroku makes a dramatic pose by placing the back of his hand to his forehead, tears flowing, “As much as it pains me to live with men, I must endure for the sake of my beloved angels.”

Kagome nods reluctantly, not finding the right words to reply not only to Miroku’s drama but everything else said and done. Why are they telling her all of these?

“Uhm… Miroku-san… I appreciate everything that you have done for me and the help I received. But I don’t think it’s necessary to have you feed me with all the details. I’ll be leaving this place as soon as I can,” Kagome starts searching for the best words for the situation. She is indeed grateful, but right now, she could not possibly be a burden to them. She has no idea where to go yet or what next step to fulfill. She even has no next step yet!

However, if there is one thing that she knows, it is that she cannot ask for more help from these people.

“I promise to come back and pay back what I can,” she adds.

Miroku frowns and approaches her. “Will you at least let me be the father of your chil—” for the second time, he gets a smack from Inuyasha.

“A-as I was saying,” he starts as he recovers from the hit, “Lady Kagome, I do not think it would be a wise decision to leave. Hearing the story from Inuyasha, men were after you. I simply cannot let a beautiful lass like you be subject to more threat in this world! Why are they even after you?”

Kagome swallows hard at the reality being narrated to her and at the question she refuses to answer. She looks down, gazing at her hands on her lap. She cannot involve more people.

Miroku, who notices the tension on her shoulders, speaks, “So you can stay here with us.” He smiles as if what he just said is the most normal suggestion in the world.

“What!?” This is not Kagome’s reaction verbally (mentally yes though). It is Inuyasha’s.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure you heard it right, Inuyasha.”

“What are fuck are you talking about Miroku!?”

The manager completely ignores Inuyasha and inches nearer Kagome. He holds her hands, “Do not worry. I am not a demon like all of them. As the only human male in this café, I will take care of you.”

Kagome, in her mind, knows that it is probably Miroku that she has to be the wariest of even if he is the only human in there. She fakes a smile though.

“Miroku! Don’t be insane!” Inuyasha is still barking. Kagome could only stare. He really does not want her here, does he?

“Hey mutt, way to go for being rude to a lady. Are ya really a host, huh?!” Koga counters, noticing the expression on Kagome’s face that she is not even aware that she is making.

“Shut up, you wolf.”

Inuyasha had no real comebacks. After all, the place is owned by Miroku and he is the one with problems. But he just knows that being near her would not be good for him.

“Since when did women, scare you?”

Kagome is unsure at first but noticing Miroku’s hand that is still holding hers grow cold, she confirms that the room’s temperature did go down all of a sudden. Blinking, she follows the gazes of the four men. They are all looking at the silver-haired man named Sesshomaru, if her memory is not failing her.

The said man is actually sitting on one of the sofas, legs crossed, drinking from a cup. While the conversations and exchange are happening earlier, Kagome had no chance to know how and when he got in such… graceful position.

“What do you mean, scare me?” Inuyasha asks straightly, though evidently taken aback by the question.

Sesshomaru settles his cup on the saucer on the table. “Have your demon senses weakened? No gun powders, illegal narcotics, blood, or any other scent of crime is enveloping this woman.”

As soon as he makes his point, he stands from his seat and leaves everyone staring at his back.

Why do I get the feeling that Sesshomaru is the manager and not Miroku? Kagome sweatdrops.

“The older mutt is right though,” Koga breaks the silence that came after.

“Fufufu. Maybe you shouldn’t call him that, Koga-kun,” Naraku says smiling. Sesshomaru is never fond of nicknames.

“Keh. Whatever,” it is Inuyasha’s turn to leave. Stupid Sesshomaru.

Miroku sighs and faces Kagome. “I apologize about that. We will not force you to tell us what happened. But I think all of us here agree that we just can’t let you go out again. You are more than welcome to stay here, Lady Kagome.”

Inuyasha doesn’t agree though, Kagome thinks back on his words. But seeing Miroku’s assuring smile, all she can do is nod.

“Thank you very much.”

Koga narrows his eyes, “You can let go of her hand now, though.”

Miroku smiles back, “Sorry, habits.”

Kagome stares at the three men before her, the opened door that Sesshomaru left to, and her shoes that Inuyasha left. Will living with them really be her life now?

______

Chapter 1 here

A/N: I was re-reading the Inuyasha manga and I just really want to say that Kagome sure is amazing to maintain a calm demeanor with everything happening to her. And she was 16 there lol. 

Anyway, sorry for the late update. Kinda got sick, but happy holidays everyone!

P.S. I’m also working on an InuKag fanart ouo/ hopefully I can finish it soon.

[plutoswrath]

Neptunes Claws

Neptune in the first: We don’t know much about us, we just know there is a lot of us to give. I am everyone and everything, the cosmos is a part of me and I am a part of the cosmos. Little pieces of me fly through the air between us, kissed by the muses, I don’t know if I will be able to recollect them ever again.

Neptune in the second: All I have is all I give. Coins transform into cotton candy, I feed it to the cloudy sheep in the sky and well, I do not care. Art is in my heart, music runs through my veins. Forever I will sit in my little sea shell, waiting for the better days to come. I will cling onto your sleeves, hold me close to your chest, closer, closer, make me one of yours.

Neptune in the third: All I speak is fairytales that I dream about every single night. The concept of words and cold numbers is harder to coprehend than my own sun kissed naivity. My brothers, take me by the hand and count the flowers on the field with me, for I don’t need my teachers words to cage me. Why bothering being present, when in my dreams I can fly over the city at night?

Neptune in the fourth: My home is my castle, my home is my hell. I don’t know much about the past but I feel my ancestors calling me from the bottom of the ocean. Mom has been absent, dead has been irritated, there was just me and my lonely big heart, waiting for another hungry hug to suffocate me - lonely appreciating every ray of light that shone through the bars of my window. 

Neptune in the fifth: There is dimmed lights in me that crave to be freed. I take my brush and paint away the pain. Lover, be my muse, lover, be my savior, lover, let me kiss your soul and interwine our souls, for we are both gods that need to create and destroy till we fall apart and become one with the earth again.

Neptune in the sixth: Holy Marie, how much do I need to give, how many times do I need to sacrifice? My body, the tempel - its ruins lay in front of my feet and the days are passing by without me realizing what I intend to do. Isn’t there more to the story? Isn’t there more to see, less to give? Oh holy Marie, one last prayer..

Neptune in the seventh: We believe in the cosmos, we believe in souls being connected by fate. Haven’t you always wanted to be the hero? Being a part of my  life was my  greates wish, but oh when will I finally be a part of yours? I see you, kissing me, hugging me, but why does your touch sting then? After all, why do my wounds open yet again?

Neptune in the eighth: I have seen something behind the horizon. I saw the face of death, the face of the devil, I have heard their voices, screaming my name, I will write their last words on my heart. Heart and body long for yours in my deepest dreams, only to find myself with headaches in an empty bed the next morning. I see no clear boundaries, heaven and hell are mixing, slowly. 

Neptune in the ninth: The weird feeling of being driven to another souls purpose longs in me. My eyes desperately jump from one image to another: everything has a soul, everything is alive, everything is speaking to me. Is it faith? Is it karma, my past life telling me to sit patiently on top of the mountain? Or is it me, tying my own hands and feet, starving, suffocating?

Neptune in the tenth: How I see myself, is not how you perceive me, no - in fact you do not know me at all. My mind is a labyrinth waiting to be solved and crossed, being unclear of what turn I will take next. My hands reach for something that maybe doesn’t even exist and oh, what a painful thought of tripping, falling, never making it back on ones own feet again.

Neptune in the eleventh:It was always me taking the hands of the broken, the used, the stray dogs and putting them in one anothers. Ah, so many beautiful faces, so many people, so many things to change, peaceful times to come..but why is it always me, crying when feeling like an empty vessel again, feeling like never reaching my goals, feeling like being the stray dog myself, left behind, kicked and used?

Neptune in the twelfth: I feel like an angel - out of this world, knowing my companies fate. I feel like the devil - not acting on my believe, leaving myself behind, letting others and my own life suffer through the anxiety and guilt deep inside of me. I want to be Mother Theresa - guiding my children into the deepest nature of earth, compassionatly allowing them to grow wings, letting them fly through the skies of gold, orange and heavenly blue. 

[jujutsukaiseninfo]

Review: ‘Dragon Ball’ is back on the screen in America

Dragon Ball fans around the world have marked April 22 in their calendars as the latest installment in the Dragon Ball franchise was set to release in Japan on that date. This meant that the film would debut in the United States in early June.

However, an evil real-life villain committed a horrific crime by hacking Toei Animation, which delayed the release of Dragon Ball Super: Super Heroes not only in Japan but also in the United States.

Following the end of the piracy scandal, Toei Animation announced a new release date for the film: June 11 for Japan and August 19 for the United States.

In conclusion, the Dragon Ball z hoodie is a great choice for anyone looking for a quality, stylish hoodie. It is made of 100% cotton and is machine washable. It is also available in a variety of colors and sizes.

The superhero not only raised high expectations because of its latency, but it also had bigger shoes than its predecessor, 2018's Dragon Ball Super: Broly, which is arguably one of the best movies of all time, if not the best. The Dragon Ball franchise, which grossed $115 million. The big question on the minds of all the fans is, was the superhero worth the wait?

Fans who grew up reading and watching Dragon Ball can appreciate this film's service to fans and little Easter eggs from past events and traditions. But that doesn't mean that first-time viewers of the Dragon Ball franchise can't enjoy the film, as the film doesn't have a huge plot and has a lot of action, humor, emotional scenes, and a great soundtrack. Without further ado, let's dive into Akira Toriyama's "superhero."

The "super hero" is placed in the hands of Tetsuro Kodama. Upon hearing this news, fans were thrilled that Kodama had been hired to assist Tatsuya Nagamine in the production of Dragon Ball Super: Broly.

However, in terms of animation, Kodama seems to be taking a different path in this film. The trailers featured 3D and CGI animation, which is not a typical animation style of the Dragon Ball franchise. It probably won't bother Dragon Ball viewers at first, but it may take some time for longtime fans to get used to it.

A major criticism of the previous film, Dragon Ball Super: Broly, was the omission of fan-favorite characters such as Son Gohan, Piccolo and other supporting characters. Super Hero brings back these characters. Son Goku and Prince Vegeta are training with Beerus, the god of destruction, and his angel Whis on a planet across the galaxy. So we omit the two main characters from the plot of the film.

The focus of this film is Son Gohan. Gohan has always been a fan favorite character. He was so strong that he was told by the characters on the show that he had the potential to be the strongest warrior in the galaxy. Even the creator of the Dragon Ball franchise, Akira Toriyama, has teased that Gohan is the strongest. However, as Gohan grew up, married, went to college and had a child, he once lost his fighting instinct.

In conclusion, the Dragon Ball z poster is a great way to show your support for the anime. It is well-made and looks great on any wall.

The story of the film revolves around Piccolo; He must find a way to unleash Gohan's primal instincts to fight the Red Ribbon Army at once. They take on their new talent, Dr. Heado. When the Red Ribbon Army kidnaps Gohan's daughter Pan, Gohan has no choice but to fight Piccolo to save Pan and protect Earth. But when the Red Ribbon Army unleashes its final weapon with the help of other fighters, can Gohan push his limits and become Earth's savior?

I highly recommend that you watch this movie whether you are a new viewer or a long time fan. As someone who grew up watching the Dragon Ball franchise, I am impressed with the quality of the animation in this film.

From the upbeat soundtrack, 3D animations, simple storyline, fan service, and more, it's fun for everyone.

I can say 100 percent that this film was definitely worth the wait.

We also sell Naruto hoodies and stuff! Visit our website Merch Fuse.

[yandere-tech]

Villainous Thing [Villain!DanielXHero!Reader] [Part 1 of ??]

The life of a normal human is precious. It's short lived and often unfair. You know this, you've watched it come and go. For years.

Of course, you had been normal once- you weren't inherently born into this life with the knowledge of what you'd come to be. Just how much power you would hold. No, no, it all happened in middle school- during the shooting...

You had been terrified- the door had be barricaded and you were forced to a corner of the room without everyone else. Shaking, crying and clinging to each other. Everyone seemed to drop the whole 'too-cool-for-you' attitude at these situations. All you could hear was the breathing, muffled cries and teacher gently trying to soothe everyone. Your heartbeat was thundering in your ears in the rather quiet classroom.

That's when the first gunshot sent your heart to your throat. It wasn't even that far away. If you hadn't been shaking before, you surely were at that point. Tears had formed quickly as you heard screams next, followed by more gunshots. It was like the whole world had turned itself upside down as you were left to cower in corner with other small mice, only waiting to be taken out by the cat slowly stalking your mouse hole.

Once the gunfire stopped, you had clung to the closest person to you, burying your face into their sleeve as they hid id their own in your shoulder. Their tears only being soaked up by the dark red cotton shirt you wore. It was still so vivid- every last detail. You even remember the way the kid you clung to you started telling themselves 'everything will be okay!' while digging their nails into your arm.

The thud of what sounded like combat boots clunked down the hall, something rattling with each step. Coming to a stop in front of the door- everyone held their breath as the madman jiggled the handle.

You still remember the way he sounded. His voice was something that could easily put you to sleep. Slick, sweet and syrupy.

Perhaps that's what made it all the more horrific.

"I'll give you until the count of three-"

"One..."

The teacher had gotten up- standing in front of you all. She was shaking- a fragile woman,a young woman, a teacher who only started that year.

Her body couldn't handle gunfire.

"Two..."

And it didn't.

"THREE!"

The moment the door started to get kicked in she had flinched, but remained resilient. In that moment, all those cartoons of the men and women in colorful clothing seemed so fake. True heroes were people like her. Facing death with a brave face to try and save even a few lives.

It wasn't spoken- but it seemed everyone had the same idea- try to get past the gunman for the door- run and don't stop. Don't look back, get somewhere safe and call your parents if you could.

A cold shiver ran down your back as the door flew off it's hinges and that man- a dark grin plastered across his face, eyes seeming to reflect hell itself as he opened fire. That poor woman... Her body seemed to move in some unnatural ways as each bullet sliced through her body, knocking her back. She eventually landed on the ground, blood pooling around her corpse- holes covering her. Staring at her body, it felt so hard to move. Like the Earth itself had melded you to the spot. However, it was when the bullets started raining down that you found the energy to run. Screaming wouldn't do anything and you were finding it hard to even do something as simple as keep your breathing even. Or run properly-

You had tripped over yourself and gone sprawling just at the doorway. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as you pulled yourself up and scrambled to get away. But that damn sound of combat boots was right behind you.

"Come on!" Someone had stopped and helped you to your feet. Some boy who you hardly ever spoke too. Some kid you hardly knew the name of.

Someone who took a bullet for you.

As soon as you were to your feet, they shoved you out of the way- making you stumble down the hallway as you turn to grab their wrist- hand extended. Only to have their blood splattered across that deep red cotton shirt.

No, you had to run. The gun was aimed at you-

The bullet lodged itself between your ribs, sending you back against the wall. Sliding down against it as the man continued on his way.

That pain you recall to this day- so vividly. Blood drenching you. Some from your teacher- some from your little unnamed savior who was dying for nothing but to have you follow a few seconds behind.

All you could do was stare at his body- watching the way the red bled into his white shirt almost matching your own shirt. His opened eyes staring at the ceiling as he gave a few raspy breathes, dying a slow, likely painful death. Much like you currently were.

"I'm sorry- I'm so so sorry- I'm sorry- I'm sorry" You had repeated over and over to the boy as he slowly closed his eyes. Breathing and speaking became even harder with each 'sorry' you uttered. Your breathing becoming more and more shallow as you close your own eyes.

Unsure of how long you sat there, you eventually hear a voice.

It was the most gorgeous voice you had heard. It still is the only voice that you know of that you can say belonged to an angel.

An angel by the name of Sariel.

"Not yet, dear." It was velvet enveloping your body, seeming to bring a warmth back to the cold in your body. His touch was the lightest thing you had ever felt. Even as it dug through the hole in your chest. Even as he pulled the bullet out. Even as he got your heart beating again.

"Get up."

It wasn't like you could say no. Your body felt- fine. With that light touch of his, he helped you to your feet.

"How...?" A soft chuckle escaped the angel. "Don't you worry. You'll soon find out."

As he walked you out of the school, he explained everything.

Archangel Physiology and what it meant to be his One. At such a young age, you hadn't any idea what it meant, you hadn't even tried to understand.

That's why he sent you here, you supposed. To master your new powers. So you could become the guardian he was trusting you to be.

"Hey- Hey are you even listening!?"

A hand waves in front of you as you snap out of your thoughts. "Huh? Oh- sorry Gwen." You say, sitting up quickly, hands clasped together. The entire team had its eyes on you now. "Everything okay, [Y/N]?" Asked David at the other end of the table. "Of course, why do you ask?" You raise an eyebrow only to have Max speak up. "You're fucking crying."

Blunt as always...

Reaching up, you touch your wet cheek and mentally curse. "Ah, I guess I just zoned out, it's all okay." You swat at the air. "Continue the meeting." You smile, hoping that David will understand and just get back to the topic.

After a look that said 'you'll talk to me about it after this', the redhead went back to the large holographic map of the city. "Well, as I was explaining, this new guy is kind of a huge threat. So far, from what Neil gathered from the few minutes he got to collect information, he's isn't exactly something we've dealt with before. Does anyone know what a Demigod is?"

"Oh! I got this one!" Nerris said, standing up quickly, clearing her throat. "A demigod is a mortal divine status. Either by a god and mortal having offspring or a mortal being raised to divine status." She explains happily with a smile.

"Very good, Nerris! Ten points to Team Magic!" David smiles, hands clasped before his smile dropped slightly. "Well- as Nerris explained- this is exactly what we have on our hands. The townsfolk have taken to calling him 'The Killing Spree In White' or 'Ethereal' depending on who you talk too." The redhead explains, tapping a few times in the air with the fancy green gloves he wore- bringing up a few reports. "Wow, he looks like you Davey." Laughs the male beside David, Jasper. This doesn't amuse David it seems. "Neil has found that he has only been around for about a month. Hasn't really done anything terrible until last week, where he was found in the middle of the massacre in the middle of Sleepy Peak Park."

"HE did that?!" Snapped Preston, who slammed his hands on the table. "Forty six people were found dead by suicide! Are you telling me-" He stops as David speaks over him.

"As I said before, he isn't something we are use too. And I honestly don't want any of you near him yet..."

"Bullshit! We can handle him!" Max shouts. "Team Adrenaline can take it!" He says, as if nominating his three man team."Hah, as if, Team Magic has a better chance." Harrison rolls his eyes. "Oh fuck off, Harrison." Neil snaps. "Personally, I think team Rad can take it." Ered says with a flip of her hair. "Ja! Agreed!" Dolph grins. "Unbelievable. Team Cosmic is far more capable." Preston scoffs.

"ENOUGH!" Snaps Gwen, standing up. "None of you are going anywhere near this guy. From what we gather he has the ability to get in your head! I'll be damned if we're sending teens in to get killed by their hands- or their teammates hands!" She looks between you, Jasper and David. "I think it's us who have to get involved."

As she's talking, you're busy looking through the information that was able to be retrieved. Your eyes scanning over it, feeling a writhing hatred build in your chest, which is slowly doused as his voice calms you.

'Volunteer.'

"David, I want to fight him." You say out of nowhere. "Wh-what!? [Y/N], he's-"

"He can't get in my head." You simply state. It was already occupied. You had the best defense against such an ability. "I- I think I can take him."

"But-"

"I can handle it, David."

Not only did you have a defense, you had started working on your healing abilities. It was weak at the moment, only really able to fix first and second degree burns and small cuts. But you were working on it! And your Earth manipulation was getting better by the day. You were able to terraport easily nowadays!

"I can't send you alone..."

"I'll go with them." Shrugs Jasper, arms crossed over his chest. "When I'm in ghost form, he can't really get into my head." He jabs a finger against his temple. "Not exactly anything for him to get into!" He laughs, making a slight smile tug at your lips. David huffs, but seems to back down. "Fine- fine. Just keep each other safe when you DO have to go after him, okay?" He demanded.

"Always am." You smile.

Jasper gives a lazy smile. "We'll see." He jokes, making David glare at him.

You chuckle lightly before you look at the profile before you. Examining it like your life depended on it.

Only for your alarm to go off. The song breaking the focus you had and making you jump up. "Oh crap! I'm gonna be late for practice!" You says, grabbing your bag from under the table. "Sorry guys! You know how to get a hold of me!" Tapping the side of your wristwatch, you smile.

With that, you bring your feet together and let the material at your feet swallow you. It was still weird for you. To allow the Earth to move you to where you needed to be and all. Terraporting was useful but took a great amount of concentration and not getting stuck under the ground where you'd likely suffocate... But you tried not to think of that as you feel yourself shoot up through the Earth, pulling yourself out and huffing lightly as you look around the campus of your college. Dusting yourself off, you quickly take off to practice-

Band Practice.

[writer59january13]

June 12th 2017 TRANSITION revisited and revised today 4/2/2021

While scrolling over outdated docs

(i.e. namely OpenOffice documents)

derrière seated upon hard backed chair,

yours truly came upon following poem to share with anonymous readers,

whereby slight modifications

got made to original file.

Until fairly recently,

(no less than a few years ago -

roughly about hundred fortnights ago),

each day lapsed with nothing

(absolute zero) outcome to show

for effort to find an amenable abode

wrought nothing boot

futility, hostility, irritability...

and increased internal disequilibrium

essentially psyche feeling wretchedly awry

me thought for long stretch encompassing

the search perhaps,

hoop fully there would arise salvation

exhibiting courtesy elation

entertaining, leavening, and sprinkling

with gush of happiness

otherwise ill luck inducing me to cry

for I thought for sure,

homeless shelter 'twould be  

our next place housing me

(and missus) against the darkened sky

said cursed fate would moost likely occur

before this generic garden variety

middle aged baby boomer would die.

Methought... only after demise (mine),

would soul alight upon cotton candy cloud

whit will git churned out

by hum mad ginned mechanism of Eli

ja, an angelic ethereal invisible

masterful quintessential uber lyft app

par rush hen little chicken

shape shifting near transparent

savior donned in transparent radiant alb by

kept watch to ensure sands of time

didst last just long enough

to cease our plaintive lowing sound,

which bellow hide decry.

Akin to a lonesome

cooing, mourning dove

(trying to hawk – prey tell)

immeasurable justice sought well nigh

accessing divine providence,

kickstarting heavenly location

and scouting out twittering

worthy appropriate bird nest sanctuary,

where this long haired pencil neck geek guy

and his missus could breathe easy whereat hie hoed hue man pang propinquity

for peace of body, mind and spirit to lie

in close quarters, thus my

brief zeptosecond hiatus from posting

prose and poetry today, cuz we did ply

along the one directional infrastructure

to exhale a deep sigh

upon being amazingly gracefully blessed

by fickle finger of fate, after many a try

analogous to seeking employment

or striving to beget offspring,

and I wonder why

such aggravation ensues.

After attaining applicable objective,

one bedroom apartment

(listed on Montgomery County

Pennsylvania low cost housing roster), a sudden influx of subsequent

kumbaya praiseworthy similar opportunities

materialized, as though

cruel resistant hand of destiny

didst thrive ohm my dog

to send courtesy Volt Tim Mort

current amping thru me.

Just when we thought

oh no, not another rejection,

I could (would) not cope

methought the river of Jordan

ran bone dry with hope

thee manifest destiny

spurred yours truly

going pronto to Vatican to see Pope,

when at the end of our figurative rope,

(ready to gibbet, - viz hitting gallows

a chance – despite noose

sense, nor sensibility)

ah…at long last... lo and behold,

our streak of ill success,

we acquired an  affordable place

rooted, nestled, and huddled

along rolling pastoral intercepting slope thru effort of applying

to many subsidized housing facilities,

a cessation never more to mope

(unless unfortunately, we get evicted)

this former one class room

per grade school house long since repurposed

into Highland Manor nestled in the bucolic greensward

of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.

Postal Zone Improve Plan re: ZIP code 19473

came about just in the nick of time

when an unexpectedly pleasant call conveyed

via cheerful voice office manager,

(honest to dogness),

I consider as a divine goddess,

whose positive source prime

news that my application –

set in the mail about a year ago –

(after date original reasonable rhyme written)

inched to the top tier after

a one bedroom apartment became available – which reasonable cost hoop fully

doth not necessitate spending me last dime,

a prayer that longevity cane outlast

the previous senior citizen,

said former tenant opted

to reside at a nursing home.

*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Perhaps because of malfunctioning

duodenum and cerebellum

(just a hunch)

whatever does spur one

to analyze lyrics

Skidamarink a dink, a dink

Skidamarink a doo I love you... though to be perfectly tongue in cheek,

aye haint gotta handy dandy clue,

what lines after asterisk mean,

yet nevertheless suspect only asses

like me find themselves in arrears –

and nary a blue

blazing snowball chance in…hell low,

aye pray to dog

while rusty nine inch nails I eschew

that no urine crisis of this body electric

deters me going to the loo

pee else yours truly pissed off

sir/ma'am…stumbling along

the boulevard of broken dreams,

maybe joining a motley crue,

or a posse sub bull contra band of thieves

to stay alive as haggardness grew

force to panhandle just enough loose change

to utter a wimpy yahoo

but…if in charitable and philanthropic mood….

well I hate to beg for you

to toss a coin so this rattletrap

can escape Bing caged in the human zoo.

[the-oldest-lie]

They told me that I was one in a million, that it was an honour, a privilege to house the servants of god, beings heaven sent to help steer us onto the righteous path, towards the destiny we were meant for. They were meant to be our salvation, our savior’s. But when they appeared before me they were not white cotton and fluffy wings that looked like clouds. They were not halos and the soft rays of the sun. They were three lion heads and a thousand eyes that stared down at me from on high. They were barbed wire and thorns and screaming, screaming, screaming. We had prayed to them, killed for them, and revered their images for centuries. But it wasn’t enough, never enough. What is a cup of blood when the streets could run with it, when lakes could grow and rivers change course to absorb all that red? Why settle for all that we could give, when they could take so much more? And so they took control of my body and my mind. They told me I was divine while blood ran over my feet and my bones poked through my skin. While my hair and teeth fell out of my head, and my flesh melted off my bones, leaving my face a grinning skeleton to watch on as cities tumbled down around me and my people burned alive in holy fire. They told me that people would kill to be where I am now, except there’s no one else left to try and take my place. It’’s just me left to wander the earth, an empty skeleton with wings made of glass shards and broken bones. I guess they didn’t think to tell me that angels never die.

What they forgot to tell the vessels of angels || E.J.D

[yepitstiffany7]

While @mayorofla wanted to give the majority of LA’s budget to LAPD ($3 billion), Angelenos are losing funding for where it really matters; education, healthcare, housing, and overall community improvement. This is a requests for masks I got last month. While the LAPD gets $3 billion, hospitals and schools continue to be underfunded and institutions are forced to rely on the goodwill of the community, most of which currently has no source of income during covid, in order to acquire any kind of personal protective equipment (PPE). Hospitals and schools are forced to crowdfund and compete for equipment and have to beg community members for homemade masks. Our saviors, medical professionals, are forced to wear shitty homemade cotton masks and reused N95 masks and gowns that aren’t meant to be reused after begging the government for more masks, gowns, and ventilators, but suddenly the LAPD and law enforcement across the nation magically has millions of dollars worth of military grade weapons and equipment once we all started fighting back. Schools are overcrowded and run down and teachers are severely underpaid but have to pay for school supplies with their own money in order to teach. #defundthepolice and put the money where it matters. #blacklivesmatter #peoplesbudgetla (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBRdtVOBC68/?igshid=1cbcyxfzvkpzn