#so I quite enjoyed S1 of Humans

[adhd-merlin]

go king, give us nothing

what's he done this time

[nutmeggery]

I need Neil Gaiman to know that Good Omens 2 made me feel emotions I haven't felt in nearly a decade.

When I heard there was going to be a Good Omens 2 I was looking forward to it, of course. I just wasn't expecting it do anything super special to my emotions. I was sure I'd enjoy it, though. I really enjoyed s1.

But, for the last few years, I watched shows and afterwards basically thought well, that was fun, and I quickly moved on and didn't think much about them. There was only about 3 shows in the last 5 years that had made me feel truly emotional and stayed on my mind to the point where I felt like I needed to engage in fandom for a while. (Good Omens 1 was one of them.)

I wasn't spoiled by the leak. I never even knew there was a leak. So I had no idea what was coming in s2. And oh boy...

See, I'd watched Our Flag Means Death, a show where you don't expect the lead characters to kiss, because, well, that never happens in these types of shows, right? And this is important because when they did kiss, it felt like a door that had been locked with just about all the high security locks in the world had suddenly, inexplicably, been opened. Something switched inside me. It took me months to understand what it was, but when I thought about Good Omens before s2 came out, I realized what it was.

I would never truly enjoy a bromance they're-only-queer/in love-by-your-own-interpreation story ever again. Stories where nothing is confirmed, just subtext that anyone who doesn't want to see it can easily deny and mock those who wish it was more.

While it was clear that Crowley and Aziraphale cared a lot about each other in s1, and were probably in love, it was still just a fun ship for fans to play with in fanfiction and fanart. Do they love each other? Oh sure. In what way? Well, that's up to interpretation. Ok, cool. But it's not quite Our Flag Means Death, is it?

Then I watched Good Omens 2. And from episode 1 I saw my favourite Angel and Demon duo love each other. And I was having the best time. I hadn't had such a good time watching a show in a long while. It was not only right up my alley, it was an alley I wasn't even aware was my alley until I saw it. I enjoyed seeing the old characters, the new characters. Oh, I was wonderful.

It was clear to me that, of course Crowley and Aziraphale love each other, are IN love with each other, showing it in their own way. And I wasn't expecting it to be THIS obvious.

And then when the kiss happened, I couldn't believe it. I covered my mouth with both hands and gasped and sat up straight in my seat. I had never expected it--the heartbreak it added to the already heartbreaking scene--it rewired something inside me.

It was like my emotions had been locked up in a stall like a horse for so, so long, and now the gate had been opened, the stable door kicked down, and the horse was running out onto the large pasture into the daylight, bucking and kicking up grass. Oh my god, I have to take a few minutes to process that entire 6 hour marathon of emotions.

And by a few minutes I meant a few days.

More than a few, actually.

I didn't need a kiss to understand how much they loved each other, but I did need the kiss to understand how intense and heartbreaking their separation is for them after everything.

But more than that, the kiss broke a barrier. They really did it, I thought. They really dared.

Aziraphale and Crowley aren't human males, no, but they're played by male actors. And that is significant. That makes the kiss significant. In the world we currently live in.

Weeks later, I'm still obsessed with the show, re-watching s1 and 2, reading the book again, listening to the audio drama. And I'm on tumblr, seeing people's posts and art to somehow sate my hunger for a s3 that doesn't exist (yet).

And I'm having a wonderful time.

[sundrop-writes]

Blood In The Water

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Beg me for mercy - admit you were toxic.

Now I am the violence, I am the sickness.

Won’t accept your silence - beg me for forgiveness.

We’ll never get free, lamb to the slaughter.

What you gon do when there’s Blood In The Water?

Summary:

Being Stiles's best friend, you are incredibly worried about him when you figure out that he is quite literally not himself - and that the thing currently occupying his body could be destroying it in the process. When you approach him to show this concern, Void takes a particular interest in you. He's not capable of love, or even fondness, but he likes you.

And he likes the way your fear spikes when you talk about Stiles. So he makes you a deal - he'll agree to take care of this fleshy, mortal host, in exchange for something more precious, more rare, and more delicious than the meal you have brought for Stiles.

He wants your pain. He wants your tears.

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1, Episode 11).

Word Count: 11,700

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: as it says above - this is pure angst, hurt NO COMFORT, please heed that warning, if this is not something you are into, please leave now; this is set during Season 3, but not during any particular episode; I guess I need to put warnings for demon possession and identity theft (even though for the entirety of the fic, the reader does know that Stiles is not himself on the basis of knowing him so well, and she is talking to Void ernestly); this fic is about Void and the Reader interacting and discussing the relationship and feelings between Stiles and the Reader; the reader and Stiles have had mutual romantic feelings for each other for a long time but never acted on them, and at the point when the fic begins, their relationship is described as long-term best friends; the reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned to wear a dress and high heels to the winter formal dance; the reader's race, hair colour, size or looks in general are not described in any way (Void does call the reader 'little' but it is meant to be emotionally condescending, rather than a description of her size); this fic DOES use Y/N (proudly so); mentions of Stiles not eating/being starved because Void refuses to participate in 'human pleasures' (and he considers food to be one of those); Void is a demon who is fed by pain and he enjoys the Reader's fear, sadness, embarrassment, emotional pain, and other negative emotions, and he can feel those emotions in the air as she experiences them, so he is encouraged to do and say things that prompt negative reactions from her; Void calls the reader 'sweet thing' and 'darling' and 'little girl'; passing mention of Stiles watching porn (but the general tone of this fic is not sexual); Void compares the reader to Stiles's 'mommy' (because she is the only one who has ever given him soft, 'maternal' comfort and understanding) - but it's not a Mommy kink thing (or maybe it is for Stiles, you don't know that); mentions of eating diary and meat being 'cruel' (but I am not a vegan, it's just Void commenting on the way humans do things); the reader considers cutting herself with a knife to 'feed' Void her physical pain (but Void wants emotional pain instead); Void asks the reader to relive a painful memory by telling him about it, therefore feeding him with her emotional pain; Void threatens the reader with physical harm and even murder (to make her more fearful, and to taunt Stiles, who is forced to witness all of this); there is flashbacks to the winter formal episode in S1; mentions of the reader being jealous because Stiles took Lydia to the dance (and the reader hates the jealousy it evokes in her because she doesn't want to pit herself against Lydia and she wants to be happy for Stiles); mentions of Lydia being attacked by Peter Hale (as is canon); mentions of alcohol - the reader takes one sip of alcohol but does not get drunk during the fic; mentions of drunk driving (the reader drives after that sip of alcohol and questions if this 'counts' as drunk driving, and other people are accused of driving drunk, but in this fic, drunk driving is not actually the cause of any accidents); Stiles gets into a life-threatening car accident - mentions of blood and grievous bodily injury; mentions of Stiles needing surgery due to the car accident; mentions of blood; graphic descriptions of a character being stabbed. I believe that's it?

A/N: I have a lot to say here, so strap in. First of all, you're probably wondering why you're seeing this now. That is because I have been going through a very bad patch of mental illness (fuelled by multiple things, including the state of my physical illness) and when that happens to me, I become like a big spinning top of agitation and bad energy. And I feel the need to work on a project to avoid bad practices like self harm. And after a lot of whirling around and only working on certain projects for a few minutes at a time, I was cleaning out my files just to keep my mind occupied, and I came across the pictures I had saved to make the moodboard for this fic and I was like 'I can't delete those yet because I wanna use those to make the fic cover'. So I decided to make the fic cover, and it spiralled into me editing the whole fic just to keep my agitated upset mind busy and focused on something other than the fact that I am upset. So - good for you guys. You get a new fic. As for the actual content of this fic - I wanted to mark it as both Void x Reader and Stiles x Reader, but I figured that wouldn't make sense to most people. Because this is about Stiles and the Reader having mutual crushes on each other for a long time, and Void enjoying the embarrassment of taunting them about it, as well as the pain that comes from their pining and the potential of hurting the other and forcing them to watch. And Void does take a kind of 'liking' to the Reader, but because he's a demon, it's not necessarily romantic? Idk. I just have a lot of fun writing demon characters as complete bastards (I will never get people who write characters like Void, Anti, Dark as secret softies - like please, write a villain as a villain. It's more fun that way). So please - enjoy my take on this awful bastard. I had a lot of fun writing it. (Also I would like to note that I wrote this before I saw the end of 3A so I thought the 'crashing the Jeep' thing was a totally organic idea on my part lmao.)

...

“Stiles hasn’t eaten in days.” 

You stated it very matter-of-factly, rather than asking if he had eaten or theorizing about it. It was something that you knew concretely. 

Usually, Stiles was someone who was very passionate about food. He complained about missing lunch and hated being rushed to eat rather than getting to enjoy his food if you were nagging him about being late and had somewhere to be. 

The only time you had ever seen him miss meals was when he got particularly sucked into his reading and researching. And usually, when his concentration finally broke, he would whine about his stomach hurting and only remember why when the smell of curly fries came under his nose because you had put the bag in front of him. 

But even in that case, he had never missed more than a single meal. 

You had never seen him go days without touching a single bit of food - without so much as mentioning something greasy he was craving or talking about a destination take-out spot that the two of you needed to go to on the weekend. 

You had to guess that it was around the time that He had taken control. Or at least, around about when He had stopped caring to pretend to be human. When He had stopped putting up a front. 

“Observant little thing, aren’t you?” He titled his head in that way that was so distinctly un-Stiles, giving you a small smirk as his words penetrated you with that utterly mocking tone. 

It was strange, staring at the face of your long-time best friend and referring to him in the third person. Starting to think about him as though he wasn’t even there when you were staring right at him. Though it had only been a few days, you had long since given up the hope that you were talking to Stiles. You knew that this was someone else - something else entirely. 

You were still clinging onto the hope that you could get Stiles through this and he wouldn’t be entirely damaged beyond recognition on the other side. 

Hence, why you were trying to feed him now. 

It had been at least four days since you had seen him take a single bite of food, and you had been carefully observing him the entire time. So you had arrived at his place today with an armful of Stiles’s favorite foods. You felt lucky to catch him alone while the others were out chasing leads - or perhaps, unlucky. Perhaps he would have eaten in front of them just to prove that he was still himself. But you were hoping to tempt him with the smell, at the very least. 

Surely, he had to be hungry? 

Laid out on the table in front of you was a variety of things - all kinds of things you knew would have had Stiles gorging himself in minutes. A disgustingly large and greasy double cheeseburger with curly fries and a strawberry milkshake, an extra large supreme meat lover’s pizza, an entire pack of Honey Buns, and a grocery store birthday cake - chocolate with vanilla icing. All of which elicited oddly painful memories for you, now that your best friend was being held hostage by a thousand year old demon. 

Everything from movie nights where the two of you would share a pizza and argue about what kind of toppings to get, to the times that the two of you would buy a birthday cake like this and eat it in his Jeep with no such occasion for it - just because you wanted to celebrate life and didn’t want to need a reason for such a treat. Nights when balancing it between your laps and eating with plastic forks was all the joy in the world that you needed. 

Nights before your life became so hellishly complicated. 

“Let me guess… you’re trying to tempt me?” He posed, moving his finger across the icing of the birthday cake, and then looking at the white glob on his finger with intense disgust before moving to wipe it off on a napkin. 

Of course, he wouldn’t even consider eating that small amount. He was taunting you. He knew that at this current moment, it was your greatest desire to see your friend eat - to know that even though you were entirely powerless against such a complicated and mysterious demonic force, you could do this one small thing in your power to take care of him. 

You couldn’t save Stiles, but you wanted to care for him - just for a moment. You wanted to make a difference - even if it was as small as a grain of sand in an hour-glass. You thought it would help. 

“Even you have to eat, don’t you?” You returned with a question. “You can’t risk your host dying, right?” 

It was something you had wondered. 

You hadn’t seen him drinking water either, and you didn’t think that he had slept at all. As far as you knew, he hadn’t attended to any of Stiles’s human needs. But according to the sallow, almost gray nature of his skin and the dark bags under his eyes - he wasn’t exactly in perfect health right now. So perhaps he did run the risk of actually killing Stiles altogether because he didn’t know how to take care of a human host. 

Void smirked as he felt that flash of fear - the utter terror that overcame you at the thought of Stiles dying from neglect. 

“Need I remind you, sweet thing?” 

He started, the nickname causing a shiver of creepiness down your skin, like the feeling of walking into a spiderweb. 

“I don’t eat the same deep-fried, fat filled crap that he does.” He looked across the table with disdain coating his features once again. “I feed upon the suffering of others.” 

These words caused a wicked chill down your spine. 

It was something that Scott had warned you of, but you hadn’t actually considered what it truly meant. 

“So by depriving Stiles of his worldly pleasures - his music, his laughter, his pornography - which he watches far too much of, by the way.” Void let out a devious chuckle at this, and you didn’t even have time to think about the implications of this before he continued. “And especially by depriving him of food and sleep, I get to feed off his precious suffering.” 

It was a terrible paradox. Void thrived while Stiles withered. 

“And as of late, I have been so deliciously full.” 

A lump formed in your throat - if you knew any words apt for this situation, you wouldn’t have been able to get them out anyway. Void’s smirk grew wider. Indulging in your suffering, in your fear for your best friend, your horror at these realizations - Void continued. 

“But - among all those things, you know what he misses most of all?” 

He posed, talking slowly, his voice calculated, mocking you with another head tilt. It was as though he was looking down upon you even though he was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table and you were standing across from him on the other side of the room. 

You choked on a miserable syllable - no words came out. Part of you wanted to know the answer very badly, and part of you wanted him to shut up. You simply shook your head in reply. 

“He misses you.” 

Void whispered these words as though it was a precious secret. And then - he let out a grand cackle of a laugh, bordering on a howl as he continued to mock you. 

Your insides shook, and you became foggy with confusion - how did Stiles miss you more than he missed food or water or sleep? How did he ‘miss you’ so much when you were standing right here in front of him? Did the presence of this horrid being keep Stiles from seeing you or hearing you? Was he trapped so terribly inside his own body? 

Was this like a coma for him? Would he not remember any of this when it was over?

You could only hope that was the case. 

“He begs and pleads every time I won’t let him touch you.” Void grinned, letting out another laugh - clearly pleased by the idea of Stiles’s misery. “He is so damn desperate to hold you. It’s hilarious, really. Especially because - at the same time, he’s terrified of what I’ll do if I get too close.” 

These words put a terrible knot in your stomach. 

You could only imagine how terrible it was for Stiles - he was a naturally touchy person, and now, someone else was controlling his body, keeping him from participating in the physical affection that he craved. Threatening to put his loved ones in danger if he did get the love that he desperately craved. 

You didn’t want to know what Void would do if you walked across the room to hug Stiles. But at the same time, it made you yearn to hold him, to squeeze him tight, to give him the comfort he was clearly so badly in need of. Especially now that you knew his consciousness was still in there, alert and alive, fighting to get out. 

“He’s so pathetic.” Void remarked softly. “He misses his Mommy, and… well, you’re the only one who ever treated him like a Mommy would. Isn’t that right?” 

This sentiment confused you entirely. 

You stared at him, gape-jawed, waiting for an explanation, and luckily - he did give you one. 

“You held him close, and kissed his boo-boos. You… you were the only one who told him he was good enough when he never fucking was.” 

You instantly wanted to argue this point, but you were more caught up on the overarching metaphor that Void was making. 

All of the individual points were true. You had done all of those things for Stiles. But you didn’t see how that made you Stiles’s Mommy. It just made you a good friend. 

“My Stiles is good enough.” You argued weakly, finally finding your words. “He’s a good person, and you can’t change that about him. He’s still in there. And he’s still going to be a good person after all this.” 

Void tutted his tongue, giving another mocking smirk. 

“Still at it.” He laughed. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?” 

You didn’t care to respond to that. 

“Beautifully relentless.” Void sighed, sounding almost dreamy as he said this. He sounded as if he admired this quality in you. 

Which he did. But he admired this about you for one specific reason. 

“See… that’s what makes the fear so fucking delicous.” He continued on, explaining. “When someone so bright, so full of hope finally gives up. When their spirit finally breaks. It permeates the air better than the smell of a rotting corpse - and it’s so fucking beautiful.” 

You chose not to respond to this - baffled by his words, and slightly frightened. 

Instead, you wondered something else. 

“What happens if Stiles doesn’t eat?” You asked. “You said that you’re full, but he’s still human. It’s still a human body. A body that you’re currently living in.” 

Void clapped his hands together a few times, slowly, giving you dry, sarcastic applause for your cleverness. 

“Good question. Clever little girl.” He congratulated you, causing another wave of ‘ick’ to roll through you at his condescending tone. “He is my host, but currently, I rule all. I give him strength, I eliminate all his weaknesses. I turn his pathetic human form into the ultimate weapon. With me inhabiting his body, he does not need to eat, sleep, or drink. He does not need such tiny fallacies as comfort.” 

“And what happens when you leave?” You posed. 

“If I choose to leave.” Void smirked at you. 

“When.” You ground out sharply, arguing, feeling braver the longer that you stood there and talked to him. 

To you, he wasn’t all that scary. 

Scott had warned you that Void was clever - that he would manipulate you and try to hurt you. But thus far, you hadn’t seen the route to any tricks. He seemed very straight-forward and honest. He seemed very plainly painted in his cruelty. 

“If I choose to leave this host and move onto another, then… I suppose that he’ll collapse.” Void shrugged, speaking about it as if it were no more interesting to him than a fly in his peripheral. “Without my strength keeping him alive, all the exhaustion, all the hunger, all the thirst - it will hit him, all at once. He may even die from the shock alone. His body will be too weak and fragile to handle it.” 

A surge of terrible anger flooded you. Perhaps it was fueled by fear, but either way, it drove you to smack your hand down onto the table, nearly smashing the birthday cake before you screamed out, finally lashing out on him. 

“Motherfucker!” You called Void the first cruel name that came to mind, and he didn’t give any indication of reaction at your throat scraping volume. “You stupid bastard! You are gonna get out and give Stiles his body back, and when you do, you’re gonna return it in good fucking condition! You understand me?” 

Void simply smirked, seeming entirely amused by your outburst. 

Of course, he wasn’t scared of you - a powerless human. You had nothing to threaten him with. Even if you had the powers of a werewolf, he still wouldn’t fear you. 

“There’s that spunk he’s always talking about.” Void said, an odd kind of fondness peeking through his voice that didn’t suit him. “You know, it’s almost… cute. I’m starting to understand why he likes you so much.” 

You only became more pissed off at being called ‘cute’ when you were so boiling angry. It was entirely aggravating - someone being so condescending toward your rage. 

Then, it hit you that the ‘he’ Void spoke about had to be Stiles. Did the two of them have conversations? Why would Stiles bother to praise you to a thousand year old demon? 

It caused more of your affection for Stiles to bubble up inside you, and you hated it. 

“Look, darling, because I like you, I’ll make you a deal,” Void posed, giving you yet another pet name that made you feel oddly disgusted. 

Stiles had called you plenty of friendly nicknames before - he had even called you ‘babe’ jokingly, on occasion. But ‘darling’ had never spilled from his lips toward you. It was just another horrible reminder that he was so terribly not himself. That the thing wearing his face, puppeting him around was not Stiles. 

“What deal?” You replied. 

It was best to move on and start thinking of ways to take care of Stiles - ways to get him out of this mess. 

“I’ll eat something for Stiles if you do something for me in return.” 

You knew that he kept his wording purposefully vague. And you knew that this was likely what Scott had talked about - his intention to trick you. But Void had you right where he wanted you - desperate, fearful. He was manipulating you using emotions that he didn’t have. 

“What do you want from me?” You dared to ask. 

He smirked. 

“I’ll tell you after Stiles has been fed.” 

You took a moment to consider it, knowing that it was likely a terrible idea to agree to anything when it came to him. But he had you backed into a corner. He knew that he could get you to do anything while holding the culpability of Stiles’s wellbeing over your head. 

“Oh no,” Void said, using an oddly soft, pained tone that varied so much from the emotionless, mocking tone he had been using before. He gripped at Stiles’s stomach, and let out a groan of pain that you knew had to be fake, as he professed before that he made Stiles’s body strong and invincible. “He’s begging for you to help him! You’re right, he hasn’t eaten in days, and he’s really feeling it now! It’s killing him!” 

He was using your empathy to manipulate you. 

“Stop it.” You protested, and it came out much weaker than you had intended - sounding much more like a plea than an order. 

He clutched his stomach tighter, and then, he looked up at you with the saddest water eyes you had ever seen - for a moment, a single breath of a moment - you saw Stiles, your Stiles break through. 

“Please, Y/N.” He said, crying out your name breathlessly. “Please, I’m so hungry.” 

“Fine, fine!” You cried in return, barely realizing how close to tears you were, seeing Stiles beaten down, weak, begging for you to help him. “Fine, you’ve got a deal!” 

In a moment of weakness, rushing to help Stiles, you reached out your hand to shake on it, signifying your promise - and in an instant, Void’s face shifted from that soft, vulnerable boy you knew back to that horrible demon, glaring at you as he reached out and grabbed your hand. You knew that many stories cautioned against making a deal with the devil, and you supposed that making a deal with Nogistune was just as bad. 

But it was done now. All you could do was hope that Stiles would benefit from this. 

A short while later, he had scoffed down a very large piece of cake and was halfway done with the cheeseburger, with you intently watching the whole time to make sure that there were no tricks involved on his part. You thought that the meal would mostly be silent, but he finally spoke up again, looking a bit less intimidating with some remnants of the meal smeared across his face. 

“You know, one thing I can credit humans for…” He said, swallowing before he picked up one of the fries. “Their talent for cruelty. Grinding up an animal, frying it in its own melted fat and then covering it in the stolen milk meant to suckle its babes - that is something I can admire.” 

“I’m sure vegans would love you.” You mumbled quietly, to yourself, not entirely sure if he could hear you. 

“You should join me.” He remarked after another bite - motioning toward the table full of food. “It’s more polite than standing over me like a statue, gawking at me the whole time.” 

You knew that with him holding Stiles hostage, you were in no position to refuse him. So you played right into his demands, pulling out the chair across from him without a word and flipping open the pizza box to grab a slice. You began eating in silence, and naturally - Void continued speaking. 

“This is almost like one of those little dates that you used to have with him, isn’t it?” He spoke quietly, mocking you once again. “At least, that’s what Stiles called them. Dates. He was deluded enough to believe that if he didn’t speak it aloud, his affection for you would simply be known.” 

This punched you in the gut, and you bit your tongue as you took your first bite of pizza. You sputtered with shock and Void continued to look amused. You never thought it was true. Scott always said that Stiles had feelings for you, and Lydia said so too - but you thought they were just theorizing. 

You had never, ever thought that your best friend and long time crush - the person you were in love with - would ever feel the same way about you. 

And you had to find out from a fucking demon. 

You remained silent, busying your mouth with eating as you tried to process the shocking news. 

“But we both really know what it was, huh? He was so pathetic… he didn’t want to be rejected by you, so he never even asked. He was never brave enough. Always so pitiful, and small. Your boy is just a coward.” 

Again, you didn’t say anything. Not playing into his game - unaware of the fact that he could feel your annoyance in the air. He didn’t need you to voice your emotions in order to gain satisfaction from mocking Stiles in your presence. 

So of course, he kept on going. 

“But not as pathetic as he is right now. Sweet and pathetic, begging for your life. Begging for me to spare you. It’s almost like a song. He keeps on telling me to stay away from you as if he has any power over this.” 

“Just shut up and eat.” You told him, sharp and even. 

He nodded and continued, seemingly content with the deal you had made - for now. 

And he finished the burger and fries, and two of the Honey Buns before scrunched up the wrapper on the last one, and then wiped his face with an utterly contented smile. Then he said: 

“Now, time for what I want.” 

You wiped off your face and hands with a napkin, done with your pizza - not having much of an appetite anyway with the situation at hand. There was a flash of worry in your mind. Wondering if he might ask you to kill someone for his benefit because they wouldn’t be expecting it to come from you. Or perhaps he might even ask for something sexual - 

He let out a bright chuckle - almost as if reading your mind and highly amused by your thoughts. 

“No, no. Don’t worry, darling. Nothing like that.” He told you. “I feed off of suffering. Precious pain. Anxiety, heartache, fear. Now it’s time for me to eat.” 

You thought he might say something like that. And you had come prepared with that in mind - prepared to give up anything to get Stiles back. 

You reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out a small pocket knife. It was one that Scott had given you shortly after you found out that he had become a werewolf. He had never wanted to hurt you, so - it was silver plated steel, and he had Stiles burn Wolfsbane smoke over the blade to poison it - just in case you ever needed a weapon against one of his kind. It would be useless against Void, and the Wolfsbane wouldn’t poison a human like you. 

But the blade was more than sharp enough to cut you. It would hurt you. It would provide the pain that Void desired. 

You shoved your sleeve up to your elbow and poised the blade at your skin, but Void reached out, stopping you. 

For a heart-stopping moment, you thought that somehow, Stiles had regained control. 

But when your eyes flickered up to his face, you saw nothing but Void’s dark amusement lingering in those eyes. This left you confused as he took the knife from your limp grip. 

“As amusing as that would be, sweet thing, it’s rather… boring.” He declared tiredly. “I had something else in mind.” 

Your throat dried up, and you didn’t even realize that you were trembling as you stared him down with terrible, anxious anticipation, waiting to see what he had in store for you. 

Void licked his lips, practically lapping up the delicious, sweet taste of your fear. 

He pocketed the knife and walked around the table toward you. You resisted the urge to get up and run away as he bracketed so close to your side, leaning on the table and tucking his face close to your cheek. Being this close to him, as close as you had been to Stiles since he had been taken hostage - you could almost be tricked by the faint smell of the familiar body wash coming off his skin, by the warmth that you knew to be so human. 

But this wasn’t Stiles. A thought that only made it all feel so much worse. 

It caused you to hold back tears. 

“No, no, darling.” He whispered against your cheek, causing your throat to clench up again. “If I wanted your pain, I could have it. I could take it.” 

Fuck. What had you gotten yourself into? 

You held back a fearful whimper, and Void joyfully continued. 

“I could smack you, punch you, make you bleed.” 

He went on - the confidence of his words causing your trembling to become more apparent as your heart pounded in your chest. You considered running, but that would mean abandoning Stiles. You came here to check on him - to fight for him. You couldn’t chicken out now. 

“I could take your pathetic little knife and stab you, over and over again while Stiles screams and begs for mercy. I do love it when he begs for your life - he’s so much more desperate when it comes to you.” 

Dear god. Would he actually kill you just to force Stiles to watch? Did Stiles have to be conscious for something like that? 

Would he force Stiles to live for the rest of his life with the guilt of not being able to stop your murder? With him in control, would Stiles even live that much longer? 

“But no. That’s not the game I want to play. Not right now, at least.” 

You hated that he likely saw the breath of relief as it flexed from your chest. 

“What -what do you want, then?” You asked, your throat still clenched by fear, making your words come out choked and weak. 

He put a hand on your cheek - one that felt all too familiar. The hand you had held while walking to class, or cuddling on the couch. The hand that dismissively waved in front of your face when you told him that he had come up with another horrible idea. Void turned your face toward him, and you were then up close and personal with the horrible sight of a pain-fueled demon wearing your sweet best friend’s face. 

“I want your tears.” 

Of course. Emotional pain, rather than physical. You would dare to say that it would be even more potent. 

Good thing you were already so close to crying. 

You would just have to spend a few more minutes thinking about Stiles trapped in there, helpless-

“Tell me about the accident.” He declared, smirking, finding the whole ordeal very satisfying. 

“No.” You immediately replied. 

It was too painful. You couldn’t even think about it, it was too much- 

“No?!” He screamed in your ear, causing you to flinch. “Nobody tells me ‘no’! You promised me something, you stupid little bitch. Now hold up your end of the deal.” 

Sadly, he was right. You had made a deal with him - and if this was part of carrying it out… you would have preferred the pocket knife. 

Even just thinking about that night - the blood, the twisted metal, the terror you had felt. The anxiety, the waiting. It had all been so horrible. It had been hell. A worse hell than a dinner date with a demon who was wearing your best friend as a human skin suit. 

Already, Void felt a deep satisfaction as those emotions began to permeate the air around the two of you. To him, it was the most beautiful kind of poison. He took a deep whiff, and then leaned in close again, running his nose along your hairline to sniff you. 

You shrugged away from the touch, but didn’t have far to go without falling off your chair completely. You were happy when he pulled away again - feeling used and wishing for nothing more than Stiles’s comforting touch and assuring words. 

“Perfect.” He mumbled quietly to himself. “You know, Stiles hardly remembers any of it. The night is almost completely blank in his mind.” 

You didn’t know that. After the hospital, the two of you had never bothered to talk about it in order to compare stories. Like you always did, the two of you just moved on. You looked forward to brighter days, thankful that your friendship was still intact. 

“But I know that you remember everything. Every. Single. Last. Detail.” Void said, giving another terrible laugh. 

He grabbed onto the back of your chair, and using a strength that you knew didn’t belong to Stiles, he roughly tugged on it, forcing it away from the table and spinning you to face him. He came back around to stand in front of you - now, he would be the one standing to loom over you, watching you while you provided him with a delicious meal. 

“So, come on,” He prodded. “I want to hear the whole story. And you better not leave anything out.” 

He stood there in complete satisfaction, his arms crossed as he grinned down at you with a devilish smile. 

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with your fingers for a moment. You gathered your courage, and then you began to speak. 

This is for Stiles, you assured yourself. For Stiles. 

“Well, it was the night of the winter formal.” You started off. “And when I saw Stiles screech out of the parking lot in his Jeep at top speed-” 

“No, no.” Void shook his head, cutting you off. “I said start at the beginning.” He scolded you sharply. “That’s not the beginning, is it? I want all the details. Go back to the beginning of the night.” 

“Are you serious?” 

At first, you were utterly confused. He asked you to tell him about the accident. What did a high school dance have to do with a car accident? 

“Of course, darling.” He smirked at you. 

Then, it hit you. He didn’t just want the gorey details. He wanted every ounce of your suffering. He wanted Stiles to suffer too. Especially if he said that Stiles didn’t remember it. He wanted you to recount the entire night to Stiles from your perspective. It was why he had brought up Stiles’s ‘affection’ for you. 

He wanted both of you to suffer in the misery that you had been in love with each other for so long and not been together. The stupidity that you were both blind idiots who kept each other from happiness the whole time. 

So you took a breath, and you told your story how he wanted to hear it, starting from the beginning of the night. 

… 

You were utterly miserable. 

It was one of the biggest dances of the year (well, aside from Prom and Homecoming…) and you didn’t have a date. You had spent a huge chunk of money, your savings from a crappy minimum wage job waiting tables, on a gorgeous dress and shoes, hoping that Stiles would ask you to the dance. But he was going with Lydia. 

You guessed that you had to be happy for him. He had been crushing on her since the third grade, and he was finally going on a date with her. A good best friend would be happy for him. 

But naturally, you were still trying to look your absolute best, maybe, selfishly, in the hope that he would see you from across the room and realize that he had made the wrong choice. Lydia was an amazing, sweet girl - and you genuinely hated the type of jealousy that this was making you feel. 

You knew that logically, you had no claim over Stiles. He was just your friend, and he was more than free to go on dates with other girls. It was downright toxic of you to not ask him to the dance and then get upset when he happily went with someone else as his date. 

But you tried not to think about that as you put the finishing touches on your look. You had gone all out with your best hair and make-up to compliment your expensive crystal blue satin dress. Whether it was to make yourself feel better or to try and capture Stiles’s attention - you still weren’t entirely sure. 

“Lip-gloss?” Allison appeared behind you, holding a hand out, looking for the aforementioned product. 

You handed it to her and she leaned down, looking into the mirror of your vanity while applying it. She had told you that getting ready at her own house would have simply been ‘too weird’ because she was fighting with her family, and she wanted some calm down time. So she had asked to get ready with you, with the offer that Jackson could give you both a ride from there. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” She said, feeling too awkward in the silence as you applied your mascara, focusing on your work and not looking at her in the mirror. She knelt down beside you, guilt written across her face. “If I had known that you liked Stiles, I wouldn’t have set him up with Lydia.” 

“It’s not a big deal.” You remarked. “Like you said, you didn’t know.” After a moment, you added on: “It’s kind of… good. Like a relief. I almost feel like it’s less pressure.” You shrugged. “I can just go and have fun without worrying about impressing him.” 

You had been lying to yourself. You absolutely hated it with every fiber of your being. You didn’t want to be angry with Allison, but you knew that she was better friends with Lydia than she was with you. That’s why she hadn’t known about your feelings for Stiles before now. When she had asked why you seemed so upset about the news that the two were going to the dance together, you told her, and she explained with a sour, sad face that she had set them up. 

You hated it, but you couldn’t help thinking that this was the first step to Stiles and Lydia becoming a thing - the first act in them dating for long months while you resented Lydia for stealing something you once saw as yours. 

And you hated yourself for being that kind of person. 

Allison chuckled at this. 

“Yeah… Well, Scott’s not going at all, so none of us get to go with the person we want to be with.” She said in a deeply sad tone, obviously aching from her own problems. 

… 

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Void commented, drawing you from the memory. “A pretty girl spends too much money on a dress, trying to impress some moron who won’t even notice it.” 

He was mocking Stiles again. 

“And then you had to see him with her.” 

You nodded. 

You could picture it so perfectly in your mind. Getting out of Jackson’s car and seeing Stiles rush to open the door for her - the way he smiled at her, the way he looked at her like she held the world on the edges of her lips. You wanted nothing more than for him to look at you like that. Her perfect ‘strawberry blonde’ hair fluttering in the wind as they walked arm-in-arm across the parking lot. 

It caused the most awful aching pain in your chest that you had ever felt. You didn’t truly know how precious Stiles was to you until you saw him with someone else. 

You knew Jackson was aching too, for much the same reason. And when he had offered you a swig of his drink, you took it. But it wore off too soon for your tastes and you didn’t have more. So for the better part of the night, you were forced to feel your pain while his was drowned out by the booze. 

“Tell me. Tell me how it made you feel.” Void egged you on, wanting you to say it out loud even though your pain was all too palpable in the air. 

“Like I was dying inside,” You answered, your throat tight but - still no tears yet. “Like all good had drained from the world. Like I had lost the most precious thing in my life and I would have to sit at the sidelines watching a perfect story play out when I was supposed to be a part of it.” 

Void took a deep breath, sniffing the air again. And then he chuckled. 

“Your pathetic teenage angst is… so amusing.” He grinned at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do tell me more.” 

You had no clue that somewhere inside of there, Stiles was hit with his own wave of intense sadness - something else for Void to feed off of. He had no clue that you had been in love with him for so long. He had no clue how many opportunities he had missed out on to tell you about his feelings - how long he could have been happily dating you. 

He hated how much time the two of you had missed out on. 

Void sat contently between Stiles’s complicit misery and your renewed angst as you continued the story. 

… 

You had moped around all night. 

You thought perhaps the only person more miserable than you at that dance was Scott - stuck hiding in the shadows, forced to watch Allison dance with Jackson while pretending he wasn’t even there. 

But eventually, he too got his way after making a huge scene that even stopped the band for a moment - and left Coach feeling embarrassed when everyone thought that he went off on a homophobic screaming tirade because Scott was dancing with Danny. Good thing Beacon Hills was pretty progressive. 

After spending all night on the bleachers on the verge of tears, you decided to leave to get yourself a chocolate bar from the vending machine - nothing goes better with sorrow than chocolate, right? Well, perhaps Jackson had a point in pairing his sorrow with liquor. But you weren’t at that point yet. 

You were considering just calling it a night altogether. But you saw Stiles standing by himself, sans Lydia, and you figured it was a good time to make your move, if you were going to make one. 

You wandered over to him shyly. 

You had been feeling so down about yourself, you didn’t notice the way his eyes traced over every inch of you with awe - the way his lips parted with slight shock and wonder at how beautiful you looked that night. 

Just as he was about to tell you so, you spoke up. 

“So… where’s Lydia?” You asked. 

“Oh, uh - she went to go find Jackson.” He said, disappointment seeping through every single inch of his voice. 

“Naturally.” You replied. 

You wanted to rant and scream about how she wasn’t good enough for him if she was going to ditch him for a guy who supposedly didn’t even want her anymore. 

Your eyes strayed over to Allison and Scott on the dance floor, looking at each other with nothing but affection - clearly, only thinking of the other person, so caught up in their own little bubble. She didn’t care that Jackson had ditched her. A small flare of jealousy went through you. 

You wished that could be you and Stiles. 

“Do you wanna dance?” You asked Stiles, hoping that you could have your moment, even if it meant stealing him away from Lydia (when she clearly didn’t care). 

He gave you a shy grin. “Okay.” 

You grabbed his hand and led him out to the dance floor, and his hands found a natural place on your hips while you softly draped your arms around his neck. The two of you swayed to the slow music for a moment before you spoke again. 

“This is nice.” You commented, smiling. 

Though it had felt impossible only an hour ago, you actually felt happiness creeping in. Standing there underneath the coloured lights, dancing with the one person you had wanted the whole time. It was nice. There was still a lick of mourning lingering in your chest. You knew that Stiles still only viewed you as a friend, and you weren’t sure if you could ever gather that courage to take the leap and tell him about how you truly felt. As much as you wanted to just pull him close and kiss him. 

“You know, you were the one person I actually wanted to dance with tonight.” You continued on. “And-” You cut yourself off with a sigh, not wanting to sound too vulnerable. 

“Yeah.” Stiles replied - though he sounded oddly distant and thoughtless. 

When you looked at his face again, you realized that he was staring at something over your shoulder, and you craned your neck to see that he was gawking at his watch. 

“Ugh, really?” You scoffed, pushing him away. “Is dancing with me so awful that you feel the need to time it?” 

“No.” He shook his head furiously, hating what you were accusing him of. “That’s not - look, Lydia’s been gone for over ten minutes! I’m worried.” 

You shook your head, sighing deeply in defeat. Of course he was still thinking about her. 

“Did you ever consider that maybe she found Jackson? That maybe they’re off somewhere making out? That she just ditched you because she doesn’t give a shit about you?” You argued, full of pain, your voice raising in volume to the point where you attracted stares from others on the dancefloor. 

A look of pure pain streaked across Stiles’s face at your words. 

“Whatever.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m going to find her. Because I actually care about her. And because I trust my gut.” He sharply bumped your shoulder as he passed, leaving you feeling more rejected and horrible than ever.

You turned and fled from the room, scurrying away from the many eyes on you once you realized that people were still staring. 

… 

“His gut.” Void chuckled. “He always did have good instincts, didn’t he?” 

He did. Stiles had amazing instincts. 

Because you had been assuming the worst - believing that Lydia had ditched Stiles to go and make-out with Jackson, when in reality, she had been bleeding to death on the lacrosse field. Stiles had been more than right to go looking for her. 

Given, that was before you even knew about the existence of werewolves and all the other bullshit that ran ramped in Beacon Hills. But it didn’t make you feel like any less of a horrible person when you found out. 

“Did you ever consider what a selfish bitch you are?” 

Void continued on when you didn’t speak, seamlessly picking up with his mocking. Of course, he knew all the weak spots to hit. He could feel right where you were soft and vulnerable - right where you flexed with hurt under his taunts. 

“Whining about not getting to dance with some dork while an innocent girl was bleeding to death? Talk about priorities.” 

“I didn’t know.” You replied, your voice stiff. 

You knew it was a poor excuse. You knew that ultimately, you were selfish. You should have gone with Stiles to look for Lydia. You should have helped. 

Distantly, caged up inside of Void - Stiles was eternally thankful about that argument. He was thankful that you had been distanced from all of it, kept away from Peter Hale’s hungry claws. He would have gone insane, having you and Lydia in hospital beds, side by side, not knowing what the fate of either of you would be. 

“Yeah, you can just keep telling yourself that same bullshit, sweetheart.” Void said, his voice a low whisper. “But we both know what you are. Maybe in reality, you’re not that much different from someone like me.” 

Maybe that realization hurt more than anything. 

Maybe that was his intention - to hit you with a truth that would wound you. 

“You know… he still thinks about you in that dress.” Void spoke quietly again, carefully, painstakingly choosing each word. “How… beautiful you looked. His perfect rare crystal.” 

He put emphasis on each word in a way that sent chills down your spine. His sharp gaze coming from Stiles’s honey whiskey eyes felt infinitely darker, and rather than feeling treasured as something good, something valuable like you usually did when Stiles looked at you - you felt filthy. You felt a sense of fear, knowing that Void would use Stiles precious appreciation of you to hurt him. To hurt both of you. 

“That was the night he knew for certain that he was in love with you.” Void let out another laugh - dark and low. “The night he knew that he loved you more than he ever loved Lydia. She was laying in front of him dying, and still - all he could think about was protecting you. Protecting you from the threat.” 

Your throat clenched up, and anything you were going to say was lost. 

“I guess he’s selfish too, isn’t he?” Void posed. “You two are perfect for each other, I suppose.” 

Then, he put on a weak, small, wobbling voice, and began to mock the unique, crippling fear that Stiles had experienced that night. 

“Where’s Y/N? I need to find her. I need to protect her. Is she next?” 

Nausea tightened in your stomach. 

A unique tightness clutched at your chest. 

Stiles had known he was in love with you that night. 

He had been trying to protect you. 

Is that why he had fled from the dance so suddenly? 

“Ask me the question.” Void grinned, entirely excited now that you had put it together, made the realization. “Come on, ask me the question. We both know you want to.” 

“Why are you doing this?” You choked out. 

This was not the question he wanted. 

But still, he indulged you. 

“I told you.” He said firmly. “I like pain.” 

He took a step forward then, leaning down, bracketing his hands by your hips on the wooden kitchen chair’s seat, his face tight in your personal space once again. 

“Now… ask me the question.” 

You took a shallow breath. 

You hated how intimidating he was. You hated knowing that if it had actually been Stiles who was this close to you, it would have given you butterflies or even turned you on, but instead - you felt anxiety having him this close. 

You couldn’t help but to give him what he wanted. 

“What really happened that night?” You whimpered out, terrified of that answer. “Why did Stiles leave the dance?” 

Void grinned. 

“What a brilliant question. You are such a clever girl.” 

… 

All of it happened so fast. 

Stiles spotted Lydia from afar - her red hair very distinctive. Then he saw it - a humanoid shape transforming into a big, black beast. Razor sharp teeth and claws. 

He begged for her life, and he had been given one chance to spare her - a single call to Jackson. Luckily, the asshole picked up. (It was the one time in Stiles’s life that he had ever been thankful for Jackson’s existence.) 

And then, he was being kidnapped, forced into his own car and being forced to drive to God knows where. 

Of course, he was far too busy with the panic of it all, and he didn’t notice you. 

He didn’t notice you - stumbling into the parking lot, looking for him in order to apologize for what you had said. He didn’t notice you watching with suspicion and confusion as his Jeep pulled out of the parking lot at top speed. He didn’t notice you going into your purse for your phone, looking to call his dad, considering making a report to him about it - only to find Jackson’s keys in your purse from earlier that night. Because when you had spotted him still drinking more than an hour into the dance, so sloshed that he could barely stand, you had demanded his keys from him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him drink and drive. 

Stiles hadn’t noticed you getting into Jackson’s car and stealing it in order to trail behind him to see where he was going - just in time to miss Jackson running through the parking lot screaming for help with Lydia’s limp body in his arms. 

Stiles was too busy with panic and anxiety to notice any of that, far too busy wondering if he was going to get out of this alive. And now, he was driving down a deserted backroad with Peter Hale in his passenger’s seat, who was making entirely sexist remarks about how Lydia would end up ripping his throat out ‘twice a month’ if she survived The Bite. 

“You know, you didn’t have to protect her from it.” Peter droned on, increasing Stiles’s anxiety and annoyance. “It’s going to make her whole life better. She’ll thank me for it when she’s ready.” 

“You should have just left her out of this.” Stiles bit back. “Lydia is a good girl. She doesn’t deserve any of this.” He huffed. “If she dies, I swear to god, I’ll-” 

“You’ll what?” 

Peter chuckled, grinning, seeming amused by Stiles’s vague, likely unbackable threats. Stiles ground his teeth, not responding - hating that they both knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through on anything he threatened. Not when Peter could kill him with one clean swipe of his claws. 

“You’re protective. I do admire that in a man.” He paused, thinking. “Though, I suppose… you’re not quite a man, are you? At least not yet.” 

Stiles bit his tongue, not wanting to make any further threats that he couldn’t live up to. He had seen what Peter could do, and unfortunately - he knew that he didn’t have the physical force to fight against him. 

So what the hell could he do? 

That was the question that made Stiles’s mind tink on anxiously, convincing him further that he just might end up dead tonight. 

“What about your other pretty friend?” Peter wondered aloud, changing the subject suddenly in a way that confused Stiles. “Are you just as protective of her?” 

“What? Are you talking about Y/N?” Stiles’s heart began pumping even more viciously with anxiety, absolutely terrified that you were on Peter’s radar. 

He hated that he knew Peter could hear it - that spike in his heart rate that indicated his fear, his weakness. 

“The one in the blue dress.” Peter told him, seeming almost disinterested in the conversation as he picked at his nails. Stiles’s heart thumped harder in affirmation, and Peter continued. “She wears that lovely vanilla perfume-” 

“Leave her out of this!” Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs, rage overtaking him so suddenly that he almost swerved off the road - Peter reached over and corrected this, rolling his eyes at the outburst. 

Stiles clenched his jaw tightly and looked ahead at the road, fuming. 

(Driving behind him in Jackson’s car, you wondered why his driving was suddenly so erratic.) 

“You leave her the hell alone.” Stiles huffed, praying that there was some finality to his words. 

“That would be a little difficult, considering that she’s been following us for half a mile.” Peter grinned. “I am going to have to speak to her about this whole matter when we arrive.” 

Stiles thought that Peter was bluffing - trying to use you as leverage to get him to co-operate, just as he had done with Lydia. But when he squinted into the rearview mirror, he saw… Jackson’s car? And a flash of blue in the driver’s seat that must have been your dress. 

Fuck. 

He was so screwed. 

“What do you mean ‘speak to her’?” Stiles questioned, entirely panicked. 

“Well, we can’t have her running back to the Argents to warn them.” Peter smirked. “Perhaps, I can convince her how beneficial the Bite would be to her-” 

“No!” 

Stiles screamed, his voice filling up the entire cab of the Jeep with the might of his protection toward you. 

“Enough! Okay? Enough. You can do whatever you want with me - I’ll do whatever you want, I swear. And then you can kill me when you’re done with me so I won’t blab.” His voice tightened up around these words, slightly frightened to resign himself to this fate, but he was willing to do whatever it would take to protect you. “Just leave her the hell alone.” 

“And if I don’t?” Peter asked, taunting, clearly enjoying the emotional reaction prompted from Stiles trying to protect you. “What can you possibly do about it?” 

Think. Stiles wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Think, think, think, Stiles! You’re supposed to be the clever one. 

An idea popped into his head. 

It wasn’t clever. It wasn’t good. But it was the only idea that he had. 

And when he took one last glance in the rearview mirror and realized that you were about twenty feet back - more than enough to hit the brakes in time - he resigned himself to it. 

He put his seatbelt on, and then - he harshly turned the wheel toward the nearest tree and - he gunned it. 

… 

The crash shocked you. 

You slammed on the brakes as quickly as you could, and came to a stop a few feet behind the tree that Stiles had rammed into. You stumbled out of the driver’s side door in shock, tears in your eyes as you wandered toward the Jeep - which was now nothing more than a heap of twisted metal, smoking, the horn blaring loudly where it was crumbled against the tree. 

“Stiles?” You called out, praying that he would answer you. “Stiles?” 

You slowly came around the car, finally able to get a good view of him through the smashed driver’s side window. 

He was entirely still, collapsed against the air-bag that had emerged from the steering wheel, blood smeared all over the white material. So much blood. It painted the smashed front windshield, dripped through his shirt. He was so still. He wasn’t moving. He-

“Stiles?” 

When he didn’t respond, you let out a loud sob. 

“Stiles? Come on - you - you have to-!” You couldn’t contain another sob as it tore through you, making you utterly breathless. 

You had been so distraught that you didn’t notice the passenger side door was wide open, even though there was not a single trace that anybody had been sitting there. Even if you had noticed, you likely would have chalked it up to the door being flung open from the force of the crash. 

Your ears were pounding with blood from the shock and you didn’t even notice the wolf-like howls echoing into the night above you. 

…

“I thought he was dead.” 

Your body couldn’t contain another sob when you got to this part in the story - finally providing Void with the tears he so desired. 

As you went over the horrors of that night in your mind, they now poured freely down your face. Your pain was made even worse with the stunning realization: Stiles had done it all to protect you. Put himself in danger, gone through so much pain - all to protect you. 

Void smiled at you - a terrible, haunting grin that he mocked you while wearing the face of the man you loved the most. 

“So beautiful.” He hummed, reaching out and wiping your tears - not to comfort you, of course. He gathered the wetness on his fingers and brought it to his lips, licking it. At this, he gave a satisfied sound. “So much pain.” 

“Are we done now?” You asked, wanting to be alone to wallow in your pain. 

Truthfully - you wanted nothing more than the comfort of Stiles. You wanted him to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay in the soothing way that he always did. You wondered if hugging Void would feel the same. You wondered if you could close your eyes and pretend, even for a moment. 

“No.” He told you, enjoying the extra little bit of anguish he could wring from you by telling you this. “Because that wasn’t the worst part, was it?” 

…

“Look, Noah, it’s probably nothing.” Melissa said firmly, doing her best to try and soothe the fellow parent. Sheriff Stilinski had already been at the hospital to take a report on what had happened to Lydia when something else came over the radio - a car accident report about a crash involving a blue Jeep. “Stiles isn’t the only person in this town who drives a-” 

Before she could even get the words out, the paramedics came bursting into the ambulance bay, wheeling in a bloodied, unconscious Stiles on a stretcher with you walking beside them, holding his hand. 

“My boy.” The Sheriff sobbed, rushing to reach them. 

Melissa knew that the doctors would likely need to get him up to the ER with the kind of condition that he was in, so she moved to escort you and the Sheriff to the waiting room. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and you refused to be pulled away - you refused to let go of his hand. 

“He needs me.” You bawled, tears still steadily streaming down your face. “He needs me!” 

“Let them work, sweetie, just-” Melissa argued gently, trying to be understanding about the kind of shock you were in. 

“He needs me! He needs me!” 

She held you back, tearing your grip off of Stiles so that he could be escorted to the ER. Melissa began to cradle you comfortingly, rubbing a hand on your shoulder. 

There was only a short moment of silence before-

“What the hell happened?” The Sheriff turned to you, barking the words loudly, obviously yearning for answers about how Stiles had gotten hurt. 

“I - I don’t know.” You answered meekly, feeling intimidated by him. 

“Was he drinking? Were you two partying?” He screamed, getting closer into your space. 

Quickly, Melissa stepped between the two of you, putting a hand on Sheriff Stilinski’s chest to keep him at bay. 

“Noah, stop it-” 

“Was he drinking?” He pressed, forcing the words out slower, as though you were too dumb to understand. 

“What? No!” You quickly replied. “Stiles doesn’t drink!” 

(That had been a lie. You had seen him drink a few times at parties. But you knew that he was a firm proponent of designated sober drivers because of how many accident reports his father had filed from drunk drivers that involved death.) 

“Even if he was, I would never let him drive! Stiles would never let anybody drink and drive because that’s what you taught him!” 

You felt a slight bit of guilt, knowing that you had sipped on Jackson’s bottle and gotten behind the wheel. You wondered if that one single sip made you guilty of the crime that Stiles was so very much against. 

Before you could dwell on it too much, you continued. 

“I took Jackon’s keys from him to keep him from drunk driving! That’s how I followed Stiles in the first place.” 

“You used my car?” Jackson appeared behind you suddenly, taking on an accusatory tone. 

Everyone ignored him. 

“Well? Where was he going? What was he doing? How the hell did this happen?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” You ground out slowly. “It’s not like it was my fault!” 

… 

Void let out another astrid laugh. 

“Oh, but it was.” He grinned. “It was all your fault. How did it feel lying to a police officer about the fact that you almost killed his son?” 

“I wasn’t lying.” You replied, your throat gripped by tears. “I didn’t know.” 

You were glad that you hadn’t known the truth at the time. You weren’t sure if you could have faced the Sheriff, knowing that Stiles’s near death experience had been all your fault. 

“Would you look the Sheriff in the eyes and tell him that now?” Void asked. “Or would you apologize? Tell him that it’s all your fault that stupid, infatuated Stiles crashed his car into a tree trying to save you?” 

“I-” You choked out, truly unsure what to say. “I don’t know.” 

“Would you have taken his place?” Void snipped, quick to berate you with more questions. 

“What?” You parroted back, slightly confused. 

“Would you have taken his place?” He repeated. “You - caught up in that heap of twisted metal, carted off to the hospital to be poked and prodded by doctors, cut up, barely alive? Him - crying at your bedside like a pathetic idiot?” 

You had never considered it. You didn’t think it was wise to dwell on the past or mull-over hypotheticals like that. But truthfully - you thought that what had happened to you was worse. You thought that Stiles got the better end of it, sleeping through most of it while you had to steep in your pain. 

“Y-yes.” You said, hesitating slightly, feeling as though this was the proper, kind answer - saying that you would have taken the physical pain for him - that you would have laid in the bed and taken all of it in his place if you could have. 

“Uh-oh.” Void said, shaking his head. “Nobody likes a liar, Y/N.” 

How he knew that you were lying, you had no clue. 

But you were eager to move on from it before he prodded you about it any further. So you quickly moved on with your story. 

“And then, there was the waiting.” You told him. “We had to wait hours for him to come out of surgery, wondering if he was going to live. And then I waited for weeks by his bedside, wondering if he was ever going to wake up.” 

You swallowed around a painful knot in your throat as you remembered it. 

“So perfectly pathetic, isn’t it?” Void commented. “The way that you showed up to that hospital every single day - spent nights sleeping beside him in an uncomfortable plastic chair, just waiting… every single day waiting to see if he was going to wake up. Or rather - seeing if he was going to finally slip away. Waiting to see if he was finally going to die.” 

You let out more tears and Void sniffed the air again, taking a deep breath, enjoying the depth of your pain. 

“I wish I could have been there.” He remarked. “Every single day, you mourned over him. You cried for him. What a waste of sweet suffering.” 

He let out another laugh. You go do nothing more but sit there and let him mock you, let him indulge in the suffering that you had promised him. 

“You showed up every single day and he didn’t even know it. You talked to him, read to him, played him music… not even knowing if he could hear you. Thinking that he could hear you, but just… hinging it all on that tiny ray of hope.” 

You thought for certain that Void would confirm then and there that Stiles had never heard you when he had been comatose, because before he had said that your hope being broken was ‘delicious’. 

But what he did next hurt so much more.

Because of course, he knew the worst, most perfect ways to hurt you.  

“You read him The Velveteen Rabbit… because he said that his Mommy used to read it to him.” 

Void said, mocking deep in his voice. And then, he put on a shrill impression of you as he spoke again - repeating word for word what you had said to Stiles when you had been at his bedside. Private words that had been meant only for Stiles. 

“‘Stiles, you have to wake up. You have to wake up so we can be together again. Look, I know I messed up before, but… I really like you. I might even love you. Fuck it - I do love you. I’m in love with you, and you - you have to wake up so that I can spend the rest of my life loving you.’” 

He burst into laughter with these last words, cutting right through you. 

“Well, newsflash!” He screamed, startling you with his sudden volume, shaking you. “Stiles isn’t going to wake up this time. He’s never coming back again. You’re going to spend the rest of your life alone.” 

“He will.” You said weakly, knowing how defeated you sounded. “He’ll come back. He’ll come back to me, I know it.” 

You and Void both knew that you were trying to convince yourself with these words. 

Void pulled up his shirt, showing off the long, jagged scar in the middle of Stiles’s stomach - the scar he had from the accident. 

“See this? This is his human weakness.” Void stated. “I came along and I made him into something so much better. I made him strong. I made him-” 

“You ruined him!” You screamed, finally standing from your chair, hyper charged with your own rage now. “You took away everything that made him good - his sweetness, his kindness, his empathy. You-” 

“No, sweetheart.” Void grabbed your face, shutting you up and causing sharp shocks of pain across your head as he roughly jostled you. “Those things have always been his downfall. His stupid kindness and empathy caused him to crash himself into a fucking tree tyring to protect you. You - a dumb bitch who is still willing to put herself this close to a demon who could gut her in a second without a single care.” 

You held your breath. You waited for him to do something more - to truly attempt to harm you. 

And then, after a paralyzing second of staring into those dead eyes - he let you go again. You took a step back. You should have run - you should have run, and run, until you found Scott or someone else. But he was right. You were a dumb bitch. Even now, you couldn’t abandon Stiles. 

“You know, it’s even the same thing right now.” Void grinned. “The minute he gets back the slightest bit of control, he keeps trying to crash the damn car. He keeps trying to protect you!” 

He burst into laughter again, and your insides shook with fear. 

You knew that Stiles ‘crashing the car’ this time would only end with him dying. And you weren’t sure which was worse - him living in there, trapped and tortured while a demon controlled his body - or him killing himself to end all potential harm that Void could do to you and anybody else. 

“Even now, he’s begging me to shove this pathetic little knife into his neck,” He said, taking your knife out of his pocket and raising it up to his jugular. “Just so that there won’t be a single chance of me hurting you.” 

Your chest jumped. 

Upon instinct, you stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, attempting to pull the knife back - but of course, Void was much stronger than you, and his grip didn’t budge. Not even a slight bit. 

Your heart raced as you began to panic. 

“Please, don’t-” You muttered out, knowing that begging was likely your only course of action, whether Void or Stiles was the one in control. 

He grinned. “What are you going to do to stop me?” 

You had an idea. A terrible one. 

You leaned in, sealing your lips onto his - feeling chapped skin against yours and for a moment thinking that you had a one-way ticket to getting stabbed. But then, you felt the stiff, tense form underneath you soften up. You felt a gentle sigh, a sigh of relief leave Stiles’s lips as he pressed back, pushing into the kiss as though he had been yearning for this for centuries. 

The hand holding the knife to his neck shook - sharp spasms going through the muscles as he battled with himself. And after a moment, he dropped the object to the floor with a quiet clatter. Then, he brought that hand to smooth across your back in a gentle, comforting way that could have only been Stiles. 

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment, and when you looked into his eyes, you knew for certain that it was him. The softness, the sadness, the apologetic mourning. 

“Y/N-” He croaked out, releasing a few years of his own. 

“Hang in there, my love.” You told him, reaching up to gently grasp at his cheek. 

And then, just like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day - he was gone. 

Void’s horrible grin took over once again, and all the life dropped out of those eyes. 

“You truly are pathetic.” He said, giving another horrible laugh. 

Perhaps he was trying to convince you that Stiles had never been there, that it had only been a trick, but - you knew what you saw. 

Void hated it. 

It was something that he absolutely hated to admit, but you gave Stiles strength. You were likely the only person in town, likely the only thing on earth that could have given him - a weak, stupid, pathetic human, the strength to overpower the epic thousand year old demon that had taken control. 

In that moment, in an instant, he decided that you had to be eliminated. 

Void didn’t hesitate to reach down and pick up the knife. 

“No-” You gasped out. 

Before you could blink, he grabbed your shoulder, shoved you against a nearby wall, and plunged the small blade into your stomach. He didn’t stop just once - he stabbed you again, and again, and again - creating a flurry of blood and mashing flesh that caused you to gasp from the pain and sheer shock that overtook your body. 

It didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to. It was like a simple pinprick - nothing more painful than a needle piercing your skin for a routine blood sample. But when you felt the intense hot waves of blood pouring out, soaking your clothes - you knew that it was bad. You were already shaking from the shock and you knew that him pressing against you was the only thing still holding you up. 

Void took a tight hold of your face, both your cheeks in one blood-coated hand, and pressed his forehead tightly into yours. 

“Look at her.” He growled out, his voice as sharp and frightening as ever. “Look at her. Look at her while she’s dying.” 

You knew in an instant that he wasn’t talking to you. 

“Look at what you’ve done, Stiles!” He screeched, his voice harsh, almost distorted. “All that begging… all that begging - all for nothing!” 

“It’s okay.” You huffed out, reaching up, your hand surprisingly bloody, trying to touch his cheek in comfort. “It-it’s okay.” 

You were determined to survive this. Or - at the very least - you didn’t want Stiles living with the guilt if you didn’t. 

“Stiles-” 

Void wouldn’t stand for it. This comfort. 

He quickly stamped out this truth with a few more quick, violent jabs of the knife into your gut, forcing Stiles to watch as he violently eviscerated you. 

Then, he tossed the knife aside and let you slump to the floor before he walked away. 

He left you for dead, all too pleased with how utterly the sight of you bloodied and limp tortured Stiles. 

He left you there, not knowing that he left you with just enough determination - just enough life left you to drag your shaking body to the phone and get a bloody hand wrapped around it.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a 'Part 2'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for a sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

Because I ended the fic the way I did, I do have some ideas for a potential sequel, but it's not something that I am rushing to write, and it's not something that will be on my schedule anytime soon. If you would like to, you can come into my inbox and chat about my ideas for the potential sequel - but right now they are just ideas and they will stay that way for a long time before becoming a full realised story (if they ever become one). I hope you enjoyed this fic as the capsule story oneshot that I always intended for it to be, and that you enjoy my other works if you do check them out.

[ineffable-suffering]

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

[bones4thecats]

What If They Had A Family? - Hazbin Hotel (PT.1)

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: What If They Had A Family? (PT.1) Characters: Sir Pentious and Zestial (+ Valentino and Vox LINK) Idea-Giver: Random Thoughts

A/N: The reader in this piece is specifically referred to as female since they were written to have given birth to children. But, the pronouns will still be gender-neutral since I write in that format easier. By the way, this has gone through so much editing it's insane, so I hope you guys enjoy it!

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Minor Swearing and Death ⚠️ Spoilers for: S1 ⚠️

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Snake-Demon! Reader ; Black Mamba Snake

🐍 Sir Pentious and you met when you were children back in the 1800s

🐍 You were one of the children to a higher-ranked family in your hometown, while Pentious was under your family's thumb, much to your annoyance

🐍 He and you bonded over your love for mechanisms, especially those that have caused harm. For some weird reason, you guys would just pull a worm out of the ground and use it for an experiment, it was right there! Why not?

🐍 Due to your closeness, you and the former human had gotten married and begun to start your family quite early on in life, maybe around your early 20s of so

🐍 As you both aged, so did your children, though they sadly passed away earlier in life due to catching a then-dangerous illness, scarlet fever

🐍 Pentious had involved himself to much into his inventions afterwards that when you both had died, your envy of people's happy lives and his sins for his inventions ended up banishing you both to hell

🐍 You guys had made your way through a lot, and when he came home elated with the news that Vox had recruited him to spy on the Hotel and detect any kind of information from Alastor, you had started to get a hint angry. Why was he believing the words of a master manipulator? Who knows...

🐍 When he was found out, you were so close to going to V-Tower and ripping that moth-dick-sucking bastard a new ass

🐍 But, your husband had held you back and had asked you what you thought about redemption, you know, getting to join Heaven and maybe see your long-lost children once again

🐍 Jumping at the idea, your tiny hat on your head's eye had sparkles as Pentious' had tiny hearts as you hugged him and gave him love-filled words

🐍 It took a lot of work on your behalf, due to being a fairly aggressive person, but, when your husband had gunned it for his ship, you went right after him and hugged him tightly as he mumbled the final word you thought you'd ever hear of his; Fire.

🐍 As you awoke in a brighter land, you had looked around and noticed your husband, grabbing his hand you allowed your smoother-feeling fangs to be revealed as two angels stared in shock and glee

🐍 Wait- angels?!

" You must be redeemed souls! This is so cool! I'm Emily, one of the Seraphs of Heaven, it's so nice to meet you guys! " " Uhm- it's nice to meet you as well, my dear. I'm Y/N and this is my husband Sir Pentious. "

🐍 While Emily had taken you and Pentious away from Sera to give her some space to think, she smiled at you and you sighed when you heard the echo of a young girl's voice, your daughter's voice come out

" Y/N? Someone seems to be calling for you. "

🐍 Hearing a deflating noise and sniff coming from your dearest, you looked at him and saw he was crying as he held onto a small being, a young girl with his matching color scheme but a physical form that matched you

🐍 It was your daughter... your oldest one

" Mom/Papa! You're both here! (M/N) and (F/N) and gonna be so happy when they see you guys! Come on! "

🐍 Tears pricked your eyes as her cute slit pupils looked into your with the same sparkles as she held when she passed away so many years ago

🐍 At that moment, you fell to your knees and pulled your husband with you, hugging your daughter and him tightly as Emily squealed internally at the cute scene

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Insect-Demon! Reader ; Firefly / Lightning Bug

🕷️ Due to being from multiple dozens of years before really anyone left alive in Hell, you and Zestial had a very special bond from life; marriage

🕷️ You and him had a fairly well-received settlement when alive, and that had carried on into death

🕷️ But, there was one thing that you hadn't really thought about for a while; your children, two boys and two girls

🕷️ After you had died, all four of your children had survived until their old ages, and when they finally fell into the same plot hole that you and their father had, you graciously accepted them into your family's now shared domain in this retched land

🕷️ Your husband, Zestial, was an overlord while you had the same amount of power and just never really saw fit to use it, after all, you didn't have much to care for other than your family's safety

🕷️ Zestial could take the reins here

🕷️ One night, he had come home carrying something inside of his flesh-jacket, making you cock an eyebrow as your wings slightly shook, allowing a dimly-lit green light to emerge from your midsection and tiny 'tail'

" Mine own loveth, what doth thee has't inside of thy doublet? " " I shalt showeth thee. But, thee might not but gage to not obtaineth thy ang'r and showeth t to me. " " I crosseth mine own heart and desire to kicketh the bucket again, and I'll sticketh a partisan through mine own chest. "

🕷️ Opening the flesh-covering a small rodent-demon, specifically a chinchilla, had come outside, their large and silver-coated ears sticking to their head in slight fear at the sight of a large insect-demon such as yourself

🕷️ The antenna on your head slightly raised as you stared down at the appearing hell-born, how in the name of Satan did a child manage to get here?

" Zestial, wherefore is th're a bawbling issue standing in front of me? Prithee bid me thee didst not abuduct that gent... " " Oh marry nay. I wast just taking a stroll aft'r the latest ov'rl'rd meeting and hadst cometh across the young thing standing th're while mumbling in our tongue. I couldn't just leaveth that gent th're, yond'd beest far to malapert. "

🕷️ Smiling at your husband and kneeling down to look the child in their large black eyes, you then asked him the question that would make your family even larger than it was before;

" Wouldst thee liketh to stayeth with us, young sir? "

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✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Link to Valentino and Vox Post:

What Are They Like As Parents? - Hazbin Hotel

[levia-chan]

YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL pt.1

Hello everyone I decided to share with you some headcanons about what kind of guardian angels the Obey Me characters would be for you. So read and enjoy (I hope you enjoy it :3)

Preface: They have been your guardians since you were born.

Warnings: contains spoilers for S1 og and S2 NB.

Others: MASTERLIST

Credits: The banner image in this post belongs to @diodellet

MICHAEL

He rarely takes someone under his care because of the heavy workload (he is literally the ruler of the Celestial Realm, which is what you expected). Plus, he mostly patronizes pastry chefs.

And the question immediately arises: why did he take custody of you? Everything is actually quite simple. He was attracted to your soul. It was so bright and pure that he just couldn't pass by, losing such a soul would be a senseless loss to heaven and a waste of potential.

So he's been protecting you since you were born. Whether it was a bad feeling, prophetic dreams or problems with transportation, he always tried to protect you. However, sometimes he messed up when he was too deep in his thoughts.

He always tried to be there for you. His presence is soothing, and his touch is so warm, and suddenly all the problems don't seem so serious.

When you have nightmares, he replaces them with some funny and vivid dreams. And you often notice that the wounds on your body heal faster than others. Well, he doesn't like it when you suffer, so he helps you in any way he can.

He wasn't thrilled when you were chosen as one of the exchange students representing humanity. Especially when you were sent to Devildom literally against your will.

He was a little jealous when you started getting closer to your brothers (he just wanted it too ☹️). But he came to terms with it pretty quickly.

Oh, and how angry he was when Belphegor attacked you and hurt you. If Barbatos hadn't brought you back, he would definitely have curtailed the entire exchange program, and relations between the two Kingdoms would have deteriorated greatly.

He felt so bad because he couldn't meet you when you came to the Celestial Realm with Luke, Simeon and Solomon. But he hopes that you will still be able to meet in the future.

And even though he protects you, sometimes you give him severe headaches. Well, that is, not because of you, but because you are constantly getting into some kind of trouble. In this regard, you are no better than Solomon.

He was very nervous when he lost touch with you. He quickly determined that you were in the past, but for some reason he couldn't get you out of there. So he helped as much as he could. Angel was very relieved when you and Solomon finally came back to the present.

He's become twice as protective of you after all this. He just loved you and doesn't want to lose you, don't be angry :<

[justkeeptrekkin]

Resurrection and The Second Coming

There is a recurring motif in season 2, and that is the image of resurrection and being raised from the dead. I think this all points to what will happen in season 3 and tie into the Second Coming plot that was mentioned by Metatron. I’m not sure what exactly it’s indicating, obviously, but here are the clues:

1) 25 Lazuri miracle

I enjoyed the reference to Lazarus, and I found it quite striking! It IS interesting, isn’t it Crowley, that Heaven measure miracles by how many times it could have brought someone back from the dead?

And isn’t it interesting that Aziraphale and Crowley, combined, could bring back 25 human lives with a single, half-arsed miracle?

I’m getting the impression that bringing people back to life and the power to resurrect is going to be a bigggggg deal in the future plot.

2) The opening credits

The opening credits have been said to hold a few clues for season 3. One of the things I've noticed is that there’s plenty of apocalypse and hell imagery, none of which we see in season 2. For example, above, we see A and C moving underground, like they’re navigating some route to the underworld. Then we see them leading a growing crowd of people through a very traditional portrayal of hell, with fire and giant spiders etc., through the blitz, through a SPACE (?) and a very modern perspective of the apocalypse, with scrapheaps and riots. 

There’s a LOT to unpack in that, but what I want to focus on here is the concept of the afterlife. We’re presented with an almost Dante-esque, Ancient Greek view of Hell: A and C are walking through dim tunnels to a fiery, wretched view of the underworld. Where is this??? In the show, I mean??? We’ve never seen this version of hell. as far as we know, it has always been the bureaucratic landscape that we’ve seen in S1 and S2. We can assume it’s always looked like this because Heaven has always had the office-style setting since even Job’s time. 

So what are we seeing here? A and C leading people to Hell? Then... walking out of it!? It is very reminiscent of the ancient myths of Greek heroes attempting to bring the souls of their loved ones back to Earth. 

And, notably, we do not see either of them walk through heaven in the opening credits. 

Who are they leading through this opening credits scene and why?

3) Give me Coffee or Give me Death

I don’t actually have a lot to say about this other than there was a lot of emphasis on the name of the shop. Possibly just because it’s a fuckin’ cool name for a cafe... but even Metatron makes a pointed remark about it. 

Call me a tin-hat bitch, but I actually have a feeling that Nina, who is sooooo hyperaware of all the bizarre events going on around her-- to the point that she’s lucid at Aziraphale’s party-- is an angel. I think she was removed from the Book of Life, so no one knows she ever existed as an angel. She seems to have some connection with the supernatural, with Sight, and perhaps, given the name of her shop, the afterlife. 

4) The Resurrectionist and Mr Dalrymple

The whole minisode of The Resurrectionist was bizarre-- I really enjoyed it, but it does make 100% sense that it’s referred to as a minisode. Because it feels oddly separate from the plot (until of course we find out the connection with Beelzebub and Gabriel). Even then, though, it’s a little jarring. 

WHY this particular flashback in history? 

And WHY do B and G meet there in the first place? Out of all the places for them to meet in the universe? 

This is another rather heavyhanded hint towards the concept of resurrection and being raised from the dead. Mr Dalrymple, ethics aside, is using the dead to bring life to others. He’s giving the dead a new lease on life. 

And, listen, I’m a fan of the classics, so the connections to Shelley’s Frankenstein is VERY blatant-- bringing in the question of morality and playing god and the creation of life and modern prometheus and responsibility and resurrection etc. AND Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. (The latter especially in the sense that Stevenson was a doctor from Edinburgh.) 

I just think the minisode is another example of a thread left untied in season 2. 

5) Gabriel’s prophecy

“I remember when the morning stars sang together and all the angels of god shouted for joy.” (A reference to Job, see below)

“There will come a tempest and darkness and great storms. And the dead will leave their graves and walk the earth once more. And there will be great lamentations. Everyday is getting closer.” 

I mean, what else is there to say here? This is explicitly a prophecy about what will happen later in the story-- the dead returning and walking the earth. This HAS to be a reference to the Second Coming, which I talk about more in point 9. 

What if this is hinting at a giant rehaul of heaven and hell? The living and the dead facing true judgement?

6) Zombies in the blitz

Have any of you noticed that we’ve seen plenty of Heaven and Hell, but the only time we’ve ever seen any signs of human beings in said afterlife is with the Nazis? It only occurred to me while piecing this post together, but we’ve never seen anyone in heaven aside from angels. No saints, no good people who went to the good place. In hell we’ve seen lots of shuffling people, but honestly I’ve always thought they were demons. Now, we’re seeing the check-in process in Hell, which I thoroughly enjoyed, but... it’s just occurred to me that it’s the only time we’ve explicitly seen any human afterlife in hell rather than just demons.

What does it mean? Not sure. Perhaps it’s hinting at what will occur in season 3. Perhaps it’s suggesting that there is a major fault in how heaven and hell actually organise human afterlife. Maybe the system is broken beyond the institutional abuse we’ve seen among the angels and demons...

ANYWAY.  

Zombies are undead. Life resurrected. Lazarus kinda. Right? Obvious connection. But what *is* interesting is that these Nazis specifically were resurrected as a part of the plot to survey A and C. Out of all the people to bring to life... they are a pretty depressing and unsettling choice. Even if they’re like, comedically terrible/evil. Eek. 

Lazarus, after all, was supposed to be a good guy. (I think. Jesus brought him back to life after all.)

7) Job’s children

The various versions of this story I’ve looked at have been fantastically vague about what Job heard and what happened to him at the end-- which is, I gather, the whole point. The message appears to be about having faith in God. It’s a test of faith and love for the Almighty. 

But like, even the idea of the children being returned to life is vague. In some versions it looks like he gets his original kids back plus more, in others, it’s not specified. In this version, we see Crowley’s kindness in saving them in the form of metamorphosis (at least temporarily). Job’s children aren’t brought back to life as such, then, but they are returned to Job. In a way, the whole of this series is bringing stories back to life by retelling them on the screen. (Stop it, I know it’s a stretch...)

8) Magic tricks

Ok, so the most famous magic tricks in the book are the idea of DEATH EVADING ESCAPADES! Such as sawing a body in half. Or, in Aziraphale’s case, the bullet catch. 

I dunno where I'm going with this, but it feels relevant. Especially given that there’s the whole scare of ‘oh no we can’t use miracles! I could be discorporated! Then there’s all the paperwork... for RESURRECTION...’

9) The Second Coming

So, I am not all too familiar with the Second Coming. It appears across various religions and interpretations of the scripture. 

My understanding of it is LIMITED even after research, so I would appreciate others chipping in if they can clarify for me and for others. 

- It involves Jesus returning to Earth (often during a time of war and destruction among humans, though not in every religion).

- Jesus’ second coming to Earth will trigger Judgement Day. The living and the dead will be judged on whether they go to heaven or to hell. 

- Some Jehovah’s Witnesses believe that the second coming of Jesus occurs after Armageddon and brings the ‘conclusion of the system of things’. A giant rehaul, I think.  

- For Catholics, the second coming will cause ‘the fullness of the reign of God and the consummation of the universe and mankind.’ What this essentially means is that mankind and the universe get to share in Jesus’ resurrection, so the dead will walk again. Just as God manifested himself through Jesus once, now, God will appear through the whole of mankind and the universe. Personally, I've always appreciated this interpretation of God-- that the Holy Spirit is everywhere and in everything, rather than a person in the sky.

- Catholics also believe that “at the moment of Jesus' arrival, three events will happen all at once in an instant, in the blink of an eye: the living will die, the universe will be transfigured, and the dead will be resurrected, judged, and recompensed. After this single instant or moment, the church does not know what will happen for the rest of eternity - only that the damned will continue to be in hell and the saved will continue to experience the beatific vision.” (thank you Wikipedia)

- Most religions see it is as the final true judgement of God over mankind. 

Conclusions

I don’t know what it all means, but I think it all boils down to the Second Coming, the final judgement, and perhaps a big reshuffle of heaven and hell. 

In my opinion, Heaven and Hell as we know it in the show will be completely deconstructed and reconstructed. I think perhaps Metatron has been the ‘man behind the curtain’, an imposter meddling with mankind, their prophecies, and even the Book of Life. 

Perhaps, all of these little hints are an example of Metatron’s ‘Second Coming’ plan bleeding through whatever reality we’re in. 

[drconstellation]

Taking Things At Face Value

This post is dedicated to all those Ninas out there, who are "just enjoying the show."

I have been pondering an problem that had come up for a second time in another meta I'm writing (I left it out of an earlier one for clarity) regarding acknowledgement of identity and faces in S2, but when you keep running into the same road-block, you have to tackle it head on. Then I ran into the exact same problem a third time here, and the beginnings of this meta has sat in my drafts file staring at me for several weeks while I've been doing other things. But finally, finally, the answer has come to me, while being kept awake by a passing thunderstorm at 1.30am.

MRS SANDWICH: You're a good lad. CROWLEY: I'm not actually, either. But thank you.

Let's start with this exchange between Crowley and Mrs Sandwich, after Crowley has led all the Whickber St shopkeepers out of the ball to apparent safety. She calls him a "good lad," and he denies it, but thanks her anyway, and gives her a charming smile. We all know Crowley hates being called 'nice' and the last time he did something 'good' he got dragged down to Hell for punishment, so it seems like an odd thing to happen.

But the thing is, while Mrs Sandwich is complimenting his actions, he is responding about his appearance - that is neither 'good' (i.e. he is a demon) or a male human (i.e. he is an supernatural non-gendered entity.)

At this point you might be going "yeah, yeah, we know, we get that! Move along op..." but this matters, as you soon will see. We should also note that neither Crowley or Aziraphale judge Mrs Sandwich for being a brothel madame (how Aziraphale does not know this when her shop is just over the road from his I will never fathom, but there you go) and Crowley is actually quite charming all-round to his parallel character (prostitution and demons going hand-in-hand - er, not literally. But they went out the door as the vanguard arm-in-arm, though.)

The Metatron turning up at the bookshop in person is the next scene on the cards. Firstly, archangel Michael doesn't recognize him, but Saraqael obviously does.

Now, I know I'm guilty of saying that Michael may have had their memory adjusted at some time, but I'm going to suggest something else at this point. Saraqael knows who this is, because they have just had a fresh reminder from watching the recordings of Gabriel with Crowley and Muriel. And Saraqael is a pretty smart angel, so lets give them some leeway on this one. But for Michael, well, they are in the same situation as Aziraphale. They have only seen the Metatron as giant floating head without a body, so don't associate him with this appearance before them, and also because he has a beard.

Just before you jump on me and say "But he had one in the recordings!" yes, yes, I know. Two things, though, I want to bring to your attention: angels are not supposed to have facial hair,* and he doesn't have any in S1 (I checked!) and he also makes the comment "This calls for much less attention, though." Yeah, well a giant head floating through the streets of Soho would be quite a sight, wouldn't it, even though they had already been treated to the view of Gabriel's royal rear-end. Aziraphale had only met him once before, as a giant floating head in S1E4 who had had to introduce himself, so we could surmise this is Michael's problem as well, even though they were at Gabriel's trial. This is backed up by a tumblr ask/answer from NG as well, where he said "I think because they normally see him as a giant floating head, and not as a little man in a raincoat."

MICHAEL: Um, and who are you? METATRON: For Heaven's sake. And I mean that most literally. You don't know me? Well, uh, what about you? Demon? Do you know me?

Demon. That is what the Metatron chooses to call Crowley in that company, and we know in hindsight that he knows Crowley's name - as does Uriel, and Gabriel. Even Muriel learns it. But they don't use it, at least not in S2.

Even more notable is that the archangels don't deign to him give the respect of using his chosen name at all. He's not not even their enemy at this point - he's beneath their notice altogether, even though they are in the same room. Only Aziraphale seems to acknowledge his existence, instinctively trying to reach out to him as he passes by.

To Nina, people are coffee preferences.

To Mrs Sandwich, they are desires that need servicing.

So then question I had, and that stopped me, was why did both Crowley and Gabriel question Beelzebub about their new face?

It stood out to me because you don't normally make an obvious comment about the change of actor for a character, and to do it twice - !! You can't ignore that. No meta writer should ignore that. There is a trope term for this, actually, called "lampshading," which means to intentionally call attention to an incongruent situation within a story before moving on, but in a show where nothing is an accident, this seems a bit trite to me. Eventually I realized that this was the whole crux of the problem to me - that while we all too readily take things at face value, its not the faces that really influence us, its our internal values.

In the case of Beelzebub, Crowley recognizes the demon, their power, and their identity via the flies without any doubt; he merely comments on the change of exterior appearance. In terms of value, he knows straight away he's dealing with someone dangerous, no matter what they look like. Gabriel, on the other hand, is judging the book by its cover, and because he doesn't recognize the new cover, he needs proof of which demon he's dealing with, or maybe if they are even a demon at all.

"Bravo," says Nina, "Just enjoying the show." She's already seen a few that week, not to mention just in the general flow of life as a shop owner involved with customer service. If you've had any sort of life in a customer service role I'm sure you've got a few stories you could tell of things you've seen or experienced as well! I know I can.

The conversation between Nina and Crowley after Aziraphale walks away is amusing for all the assumptions Nina makes about them based on what she's observed that week, but also because Crowley tells the truth every in every reply to Nina, and yet she still has no idea what he's really saying. But her judgements, based on her experience and values, still manage to drop the proverbial ton of bricks on his head so badly he slinks off to sooth himself with some alcohol while he thinks about it instead of catching up with Aziraphale to continue being the angel's nameless shadow.

This problem with judging people on previous experience and not on who they actually are is everywhere in S2.

It's Ennon treating Aziraphale, an angel he's never met before, as a slut.

It's Elspeth judging Aziraphale on his accent.

It's Mrs H. giving a powerful demon a blistering tongue-lashing because she thinks he's a just simple human black marketeer.

It's Crowley refusing to call Gabriel "Jim" because he believes Gabriel is faking it.

...and so on. These are just a few examples. I'm sure you can spot a few more.

Which brings us back around to the meeting of the supernatural Councils in the bookshop in S2E6 and Crowley's "invisibility" to the other angels and demons gathered there. A demon to the archangels, an arch-traitor to the demons, why would they want to acknowledge him? Once he restores Gabriel, he becomes rank-less and faceless to them because they don't need him any more - its basically an act of celestial racism.

Nina and Maggie don't really know any better, they still think Mr Crowley and Mr Fell are just, well, "partners." OK, so maybe they've been doing some weird shit the last few days manipulating things in the neighbourhood but they're still obviously a couple a group of the two of them in their human eyes - and neither do they seem to care that they seem to be mlm, either. No judgement there.

A number of times I've seen ops say they've been watching GO with family members who are seeing it for the first time, and the family member thinks they are just "close friends." Why? Because they haven't seen S2 and the kiss? Because they haven't verbally said "I love you" to each other? Do they really need to say that to prove their feelings for each other? Is that just your values creeping to the fore?

And where did you get your values from?

Sometimes you need to stop and question why you think what you think. I'm not just talking about religious indoctrination. Some expectations put on us by by society at large can be insidious. Expectations around how gender should act, the life purpose of a gender, your worth to society if you don't meet certain unspoken standards, age-related behaviour, social norms around alcohol consumption, the way they dress, what someone eats, the way they eat it, that you must be seen to be productive, or busy...take your pick for whatever is prevalent around you at the moment and for your culture. Just start by noticing, and being aware.

Yes, it is pointless, because demons and angels all come from the same angelic stock. There was a bit of a disagreement at one point and they split into two groups, and judgemental labels got applied to them. They are both still bureaucratic horrors. Which ever side wins the final battle, humans still lose.

Mortal humans all look the same inside, too, if you take their face and skin away and take the societal labels off them. We forget that about ourselves all the time.

There doesn't have to be any wibbly-wobbly timeline stuff going on to explain things. What ever happened to the concept of Occam's Razor? The simplest answer is usually the correct one. And that was what I realized in the middle of the night - the cliche I had used to title this was the answer. It's about being aware of those ingrained, instinctive, judgmental values that you don't realize you've learnt, and looking past the faces that you meet.

*oh lawdy, I'm giving strength to all of you who want to believe he is a demon then, aren't I? But do demons have facial hair either?

[aziraphaledefensesquad]

Perhaps semi-controversial opinion?

While the popular fanon here is Crowley didn’t realize he and aziraphale were so obvious, I propose:

Crowley has no frigging clue that his desire to hang out with aziraphale, wish to see aziraphale live to his potential, his admiration for aziraphale is a THING classified by humans as LOVE. Im also uncertain he knows aziraphale has been in love with him for eons in return, or if he just assumes it’s part of aziraphale’s unique love for all things. And not particularly pointed his way.

He seems far too blown away. He is still doing addition while aziraphale has been doing multipication. Aziraphale appears to have been gone for him since angel!crowley existed, notice me sempai style, and it just grew stronger. I propose aziraphale figured out there was subconscious reciprocation on crowley’s part in 1941 (from his own holy shit moment). From then on, particularly after s1 ends, he’s light years ahead. He’s already thinking of them as an ‘us’. It seems like he’s attempting to ease Crowley into the idea, to show Crowley it could be better. I bet he’s already bought the cottage property decades ago and it’s just there, waiting.

Crowley is mentally still thinking early S2 that living out of his car and hanging out with aziraphale and sussing out the gossip of hell is this amazing life Gabriel is interrupting. Like this is as good as it gets. His precious peaceful existence. It’s actually pretty meh compared to what aziraphale is angling toward, but it’s not even an option on crowley’s radar.

It seems What he knows is this: he grows content around aziraphale. Lets his guard down. Wants to guide him towards what he thinks is a better life. Is amused by him. Wants to take him places, bring him things, to see him happy and enjoying himself. Being around aziraphale feels good to Crowley. And yet! It is quite possible he has no clue that this is love. (And he loves his car too, but I also don’t think he recognizes it as that)He’s been jaded by life, by some human actions, by heaven, by hell. But things are nice in his car. Things are nice around aziraphale.

Nina basically just fishslapped Crowley with the idea that the Thing he’s been feeling is love. Holy shit? Love? What the heck? How could this be? Anxiety ensues. And clearly it’s throwing him off and is cemented in the final 15 because he already knows shit’s going down, so more anxiety, then to top it off, metatron pops in and stirs up anxiety with an added bonus of dread. No wonder he’s so emotional. He is so frazzled and confused and hurt and also likely stunned he is in love or that he even could love (some heavenly ptsd perhaps) and now the one he loves is making a decision that is just soooo entirely wrong and out of crowley’s realm of protection and possibly doing something either he or other fallen angels have tried in the past and were punished for.

I have so much love for Crowley and how utterly discombobulated he must be with this discovery. Which is why I really do think he didn’t know he loved aziraphale.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Chryed3 said: Like you I like complicated stories with well layered characters and therefore have been drawn to the writings of Anne Rice. Prefacing by saying , even though the vampires are monsters, I love them for their imperfections—very human. I’ve been rereading the books and faithfully watching the TV series. Chef kisses to Rolin Jones team. Of course including the actors. I’m a Loustat cheerleader but also enjoy the other multiple relations throughout the series.

However, what I keep returning to over and over is Louis’ betrayal of Lestat. Having been on this planet myself for over 70 years and in a few relationships I know how devastated I was when a soon-to-be ex-lover had not been trustworthy, lied, and, or being too personal, just devastated me, the relationship etc. And then for Louis to silently agree to “We’re going to kill Lestat” had to break Lestat’s heart and soul. There’s no going back. (I know, Lestat can be very forgiving) But even centuries of living can’t change or annul that deep hurt.

But Lestat, monster that he is, is almost a sweetheart in that regard and I know we’re going to see it, but Louis needs to step up to the plate-. (having read the books I know he eventually does)

All of this to say , THAT is the moment I want to see. And that is when I’ll cry my eyes out in relief. Once again, I know we’ll get there but, gosh, sometimes I just want to slap Louis and say, “Snap out of I!” and I’ve never hit anyone in my life. That’s how great Jacob is doing his job and that’s how annoying Louis can be to evoke such feelings. No wonder Jacob asked people not to hate Louis. Jacob is doing such a great jog that whoa, it’s difficult not to be annoyed🙂

Love your blog. Sorry for the long post.

________

No apologies necessary :)))

And sending you a big hug for that emotional pain you have endured :/ I hope the wounds are healing, truly 💕

And yes - it had to break Lestat's heart to hear that. And I firmly believe that this is part of what sent him spiraling, though not all of course. But the pain of knowing the betrayal, before it happens? To wait for it? Stifling pain.

I think that is why "murder night" was almost a relief, finally. It happened, the dice were rolling, and with it came acceptance.

Louis says it in s1, but time offers perspective, and when Louis and Lestat will meet again properly - not at the trial I mean - then they both will have had time to reflect, to digest. To change, just a bit.

I mean, that is what happens with Lestat in the books, too, doesn't it. And Louis. They both get the time to let the feeling pass... and return to the longing for the other.

We, as mortals, usually do not have this extra time. We do not have 50 to 70 years we can sit back and just wallow in the feeling of betrayal, until it's diluted enough for us to move on from it.

Some people may be able to do it faster.

But I think it speaks for itself that even Lestat wasn't able to do it faster. I mean... we'll see it how they spin it at the trial, but even later, much later, there is still a certain pettiness between them, a certain grudge, that exists.

And in the show... I think one cannot quite say if the Lestat reaching out to Louis there via Armand (in 2x05) has already stomached the betrayal. Because it is one thing to have an acute point of worry, which this is, and another to forgive the other when they're back whole and safe and sound.

And so I think that... the decades apart is what offers them perspective. And forgiveness. Just like in the book.

And I think Anne was painfully aware when she wrote it like this. I'm not sure "we" could forgive like that. But... they, other than we do, have the time.

[marveliciousfanace]

MisMag prompt! (It might be unhelpful, I’m not always great at being specific enough with prompts. But I love your work, so I’m giving it my best shot!)

I would love to something set between S1 and S2 with Jammer and Evan. I honestly wonder if they started out visiting each other or having FaceTime/phone calls semi-regularly, more so than anyone else in the group, but it slowly faded away over time. Who pulled away first? Did things get busy at school for Jammer, or more dangerous for Evan? Did one of them miss a scheduled hang out for some reason and it just spiraled out from there?

I’m personally an angst with a happy ending human so bonus points for a little bit of happy-ending season 2 speculation aka coming back together and it sticking this time! (I’ve seen at least one story somewhere of them all living together after school and tbh that’s one of my headcanons for life now. But whatever floats your boat for a family-on-6 vibe)

If you fill this one I would love an ao3 link! 💛💛💛💛

Hello! You're actually the only one who sent me a prompt, but I really enjoyed taking a stab at it! I literally wrote Jammer's POV for the first time last week, so this was a chance to try something a little new, and I hope it doesn't disappoint. Thank you so much for this request; trust that after the season is over, I'll almost definitely write more fics that really dive into things (and are less vague because I hate being jossed lol) once we have the full context. In the meantime, it's not quite family-on-six, but I hope it's close enough!

[otsanda]

I was reading this great meta by @fuckyeahisawthat about Aziraphale and Crowley metaphorically switching places— from Crowley being the giver of Knowledge and the freedom of choice to humanity and Aziraphale being the protector, by giving humans the flaming sword to Crowley being the protector of humanity and Aziraphale granting knowledge and freedom of choice.

But this made something click into place for me that I’d been turning over in my mind for a while: what if it’s not just freedom and knowledge and choice for humanity… what if Aziraphale functionally brings freedom and choice and knowledge to everyone!

I mean, one thing I haven’t really seen anyone talking about is the contrast between the portrayal of angels and demons (generally) in S1 and specific angels and demons in S2. The first season really set Heaven and Hell up as full of a lot of characters who had their own quirks and unique aspects, but still functioned very well as cogs in the same type of machine.

Gabriel and Beelzebub are the most obvious examples, since they had the biggest pivot in S2: suddenly it’s not just Aziraphale and Crowley who are the special ones.

We get to see these two other characters have thoughts and desires and aspirations beyond that of following their angelic/demonic natures or furthering the cause of their respective sides. S2 really humanizes both of these characters who were (in S1) the best real example that we saw of an official representative of the corporate goings-on from each side. God and Satan were there in S1, but in a much less visible way (and even LESS visible in S2).

But even beyond Beez and Gabe, S2 took careful steps to humanize a lot of other ethereal/occult characters as well. We see Michael both confident and shaken, sarcastic and unsure. Strong, but with aspirations to go Higher. Uriel pushes back, questions authority, and asks for reassurance that they’ve not done something wrong. Side note: I really hope we get to see more Uriel development bc Uriel has so much interesting potential to me.

Muriel wasn’t in S1, but is an obvious parallel for early Aziraphale and we see a lot of similarities between them (their enthusiasm and delight at experiencing Earth, being believed when attempting a particular human job, enjoying books, etc).

Even the demons we see aren’t a monolith. Shax feels quite different from the classic evil demons we’ve met before. Furfur and Eric too. Although they’re doing demon stuff, none of these demons act all that demonic. We see even more hints at them struggling and learning and growing. Being… more human.

Heck, even the demon with the scary mouth in E4, Astoreth, was just doing his job.

So then what if the end of S2 is establishing Crowley as the defender of Humanity while positioning Aziraphale to share knowledge and the freedom of choice in heaven. If the ‘big battle’ that Crowley mentioned at the end of S1 is between Humanity and whoever is representing Heaven or Hell, maybe it’s time to give more ethereal and occult beings the opportunity to choose their own place in that fight.

Because I think that Crowley is right that Heaven and Hell are toxic. And Aziraphale is right that they both can do good. And separating the two of them, as painful as it is to watch, could give Aziraphale the space to see glimpses of humanity in the other angels (and even demons?) while positioned in Heaven. And it could give Crowley... probably trust issues, actually. I guess let's put a pin in that part.

But come Season 3, I would love to see Crowley and Aziraphale positioned on opposite sides of the war to end all wars, Aziraphale representing Heaven (and Hell?) and Crowley alongside Humanity. But before anything truly awful happens, they do what they always do.

They’ll come up with a plan. And they'll rescue one another and themselves.

And everything else and everyone else will fall into place around them.

[butteerfly]

DATING SNK BOYS

just going back to customs <3 actually this headcanon is more like your love story was with each one, i hope you appreciate it

¡¡ mayor spoilers !! s1/2/3

levi ackerman, erwin smith, eren jeager

LEVI ACKERMAN

He thought he was made for a lonely life, but meeting you changed many of his perspectives.

your love story began with a forced coexistence

he was frustrated at having to work alongside a new recruit from the military police

but your quick efficiency quite surprised him

the way you protected everyone during the expeditions caught his attention

then spontaneously you started having midnight talks

he never imagined coinciding with a person as much as he does with you

appreciates that you have left the military police to contribute to humanity through your bravery

He is a very reserved man so discovering his feelings was not an easy task, and making him talk about it was even more difficult

One of the things he likes about you is your ability to surprise him in the most unexpected ways.

you always look flawless according to him

tea tastes different if he shares it with you

He secretly enjoys when you come to his office to complete paperwork with him, sometimes loneliness tires him

He is not a man of words, his love language is acts of service and simple gifts

he is too independent in practically every aspect of his life except with you

He is very overprotective, he does not do it in a possessive way, the world in which you live forces him to take care of you

he partially disagree with you being in the survey corp, but he knows that if he met you there he won't be able to convince you to leave.

he is scared of you because you make him feel vulnerable without any explanation

not into pda, but in the privacy of your room he always prefers you to be on top of him

In terms of sex, I think Levi would agree with whatever you want to do as long as you guys are out of duty.

he is quite shy about that topic due to his lack of experience

when you sleep next to him he could look at your face for hours without getting tired

he really likes how you smell

he's actually your squad captain

your relationship caused an interesting gossip in paradis when it was discovered

hange always asks you when you are going to have children because she wants to meet her nephews and levi always looks at her horrified

he trains you personally and mercilessly because he doesn't want to lose you for anything in the world

when the female titan appearedthe fear he had for you still sends shivers down his spine

whispers I love you

one of his most intimate moments was when he had a panic attack in the middle of a storm, you witnessed his pain and helped him overcome it that day.

It was very difficult for him but he confessed to you what the memory of the death of his best friends made him feel and you comforted him like no one else

he cannot afford to be weak with humanity, he is the strongest soldier of humanity, he has a duty, but with you... your side is the only place where he feels that he is Levi Ackerman and not a soldier

dating Levi is constantly comforting each other, in order to cope with your existence in the world that you lived in

EREN JEAGER

you met when you were just babies, you grew up together those peaceful years

Eren thought you were the cutest girl/boy in Paradis and he continue to think the same for the rest of his life

when your life was turned upside down in a split second you both found peace in each other's embrace.

you share a deep hatred for those who took away your freedom

the devotion you feel for him is immeasurable

from the beginning you always thought like him, the survey corp was your path before he too decided he wanted to go there

Eren confessed his love to you during training, your first kiss was adorable and awkward

dating him back then was a volatile experience, watching him die and come back as a titan stressed you out too much.

you supported him in all his decisions when he found out he was a titan

you swore loyalty..

the latent fear that he will die again haunts you

I think Eren is one of the passionate kisses

he is a hormonal teenager, has a lot of energy

He didn't mind showing you love in public

lots of kisses on the back of your hand

would be a jealous man

when you broke three ribs fighting the female titan he almost went crazy.

He is the type of boyfriend who when you get sick does not leave your side

the shiganshina operation was a before and after in your relationship

when you came back you knew something was wrong just by looking at his eyes

dating him used to be fun, dangerous adventure, you laughed and hugged

But now dating him is a permanent state of alert

he started to be more distant and aggressive towards you progressively, suddenly he no longer kisses you in public and you no longer remember when he said I love you for the last time

he broke up with you but refuses to let you go, you became so dependent on each other

There's a growing anxiety between you that you can't fix and he doesn't seem to care

suddenly he asks you to leave the army and stay away from your friends... and you listen to him because you love him more than your life

Before leaving you forever, he made sure to leave you in the safest place in the world and kiss you for the last time, without giving you any explanation.

dating eren is to miss what his love once was

ERWIN SMITH

Erwin remembers being instantly attracted to your rebelliousness

the way you questioned your superiors to keep your comrades safe made him want to talk to you, you look interesting.

He started filling out paperwork with you, then walking next to you, "accidentally" bumping into you, then inviting you for tea.

when he asked you what you thought about what lay beyond the wall your answer amazed him

he knew you were the one at that moment, but his head refused to accept it as a defense mechanism

the tension that existed between both of you was overwhelming

you initiated your first kiss, making him totally lose himself with you

It didn't take you long to formalize and start walking hand in hand in public.

It was certainly inappropriate but when your superiors asked for an explanation Erwin said that working together in this way was more beneficial for the team and consequently for humanity, everyone fell for his speech

you are the couple that talks about totally strange topics that the rest don't even think about

he taught you to play chess

you taught him a card game that your family had taught you

you recommend books to each other

in fact on your days off you go to a small park to read together, usually you end up sleeping on top of him

he thinks you would be a lovely bride ...

he gave you a ring but never asked the question

you understood why

When you are on duty, you are not distracted much because your obligation is serious, but as soon as night comes...

before he was the commander you used to sneak into his room to sleep next to him

passionate kisses against the wall

In terms of sex, your greatest activity is when you return from the expeditions...you relieve stress that way

believes that red roses are the perfect flowers for you

your heart almost jumped out of your mouth when he lost his arm

he could listen to you talk all day, no matter if he is tired, badly hurt or stressed, your voice is his ground wire

you never questioned him as a commander, after all he was your superior, his speeches left you teary-eyed

you were so proud of the man you fell in love with and dreamed of marrying

until the shiganshina operation came

he ordered you as commander to stay in the rose wall, in case no one of the survey corps is left alive, but you knew that was an excuse, you couldn't believe that he was doing that to you

you begged him on your knees to let you go whit them, he didn't give in but you didn't listen to him either, after all you always had a rebellious spirit

he was speechless when he saw you among the troops, but he couldn't be mad at you on the possible day of his death, he assigned you to armin arlert's group anyway

"this could be the end of everything so why don't we go somewhere only we know" 😭

The last time you saw him in the eyes will always stay in your head.

you felt your world fall when he finally left

dating erwin is having his spirit and courage tattooed on your heart for the rest of your life

.

.

.

I hope you liked my vision <3 I accept any ideas and opinions

[andromeda4004]

Thoughts about Season 3 (and why Season 2 exists at all)

That makes it sound like i didn't enjoy S2 - I did, even the ending, once I'd recovered. But I had some thoughts which might be interesting for people who haven't read the original GO book, or who read it after seeing S1, because I think some of the differences might be easier to miss like that. [Spoilers below, obviously]

Neil said when he started talking about S2 that it would exist to bridge the gap between where GO the book ended and the sequel would have begun, had they ever written it. And this is interesting, because why would the TV series need to tell 6 episodes worth of bridging story when the books didn't? Certainly there are story details that can be told better or more efficiently in narrative or on screen, because they're very different media, but I don't think that accounts for a whole series.

The thing is, the book and S1 end in very different places. In S1, we get the dramatic trials, the triumphant reunion, the confidence that our boys are on their own side now. In the book, our boys never quit their jobs. The whole exchange from the book (which Neil replaced with the trials for dramatic effect) reads like this:

Crowley gave him a sideways look.

‘Your people been in touch?’ he said.

‘No. Yours?’

‘No.’

‘I think they’re pretending it didn’t happen.’

‘Mine too, I suppose. That’s bureaucracy for you.’

That's it; the boys suffer no consequences for their actions (possibly because their actions were a bit less effective in the book, they show up to try to avert the apocalypse and put together one distracting conversation, but Adam and the humans do the actual work). More importantly, they haven't quit and they haven't been fired; there's no reason to think they won't continue to receive assignments once Heaven and Hell get to grips with the continued existence of the world. There is no "our side". So if S3 is to follow what the book's sequel was going to cover, S2 had to get us back to where the book left off, with our boys on opposite sides, so that Aziraphale can be tasked with organising the Second Coming (and hopefully screw it up as badly as Crowley did the baby swap).

So my view is that, in giving us the trials as a very satisfying ending to a stand-alone series, Neil actually painted himself into an awkward corner when it came to the sequel, and had to use S2 to get the characters back where they needed to be.

All that said, here are some things I'm hoping for in S3. Some of these might be mutually exclusive but that's fine, any assortment is good:

Crowley reads some Jane Austen, and learns how humans work through arguments (i.e. through meaningful apology and personal growth, not by sleeping for 80 years).

Aziraphale has a series of increasingly disappointing experiences in Heaven, which lead him to finally resolve his persistent difficulty with the concept of "good" not lining up with his personal morality of what is "right". Perhaps he has a chat with Jesus about it, I'm guessing he would have an interesting perspective on this.

Metatron had to get Aziraphale back on side because he is the angel Israfil, who in Islamic tradition is the one who sounds the final trumpet (there's a fantastic meta post about this somewhere on here and I would love that to be true).

Crowley goes back to Hell. I know this one's controversial, but we've never seen Crowley actually lean into his demonic nature, and there's a vacancy Below too, right? And it would really add some weight to the inevitable love confession if Aziraphale has to admit that he loves Crowley warts and scales and horns and all, not because he's clinging to the memory of an angel who doesn't exist.

One of the residents of Soho is revealed as having been an undercover demon watching the bookshop. There's just too many slightly odd moments in S2 that feel like they're foreshadowing something.

Anyway, there's my assorted thoughts; I'd love to hear yours.

[raayllum]

It's hard to tell because it's only been some posts but you sound somewhat frustrated with pre-season discussions happening elsewhere for The Dragon Prince? In any case, I thought you might appreciate the note that some people certifiably do like Rayla and Callum as characters perfectly well (I know I do at least and have since the start)?

I'm sure you're aware of it already but it felt somewhat like it'd help you not feel like you're typing into a void of dissent for enjoying them and the show concurrently? Even if I'd disliked the time skip in some capacities (I didn't particularly, I thought Rayla had good instincts wanting proof of death etc she just perhaps should have taken more backup for higher success chances if at all possible) Stella's introduction would have won me over entirely anyway.

There's no shame in being easily charmed by adorable animal characters, after all! She really is cute and also useful in limited capacities, like Bait.

If you wanted an actual ask with the above I suppose that I'm intrigued how similarly you thought Bait and Stella functioned as extended powers/company of their respective people and in the group?

Mostly on twitter (which is a reason to stay off twitter) but, in all honesty, it's mostly because it's annoying to see people use ship names or main tags for their complaining (I have "tdp critical" blacklisted or whatever for a reason y'know). Like as someone who truly deeply loves every character and every part of the show, when Claudia or Terry or Aaravos or anyone else gets promo I'm thrilled and intrigued and theorizing. And there's a minimal but loud portion(s) of the fandom who are either currently expressing (or have a track record) of annoyance when Callum and Rayla, as main characters and as the show's consistently most developed dynamic (which, I want to stress, has been the case even in s1 and s2) dare to be main characters and have marketing, there's an uproar of complaining. (Again, not the majority, but still baffles me that it exists at all.)

It'd be like if I complained about ATLA being primarily about Aang, its main character, for the majority of the show's run because I thought Toph needed more of a character arc (she's the least developed of the gaang bc she comes in s2 and has a general self-acceptance arc that doesn't need a ton of steps, for ex).

Sometimes favourite characters are there to have minimal screentime, execute their story purpose, and highlight other characters' arcs. The divide between characters where that's generally understood (Gren, Lain, Tiadrin, Opeli) vs characters where it's not (Aaravos in S4/S5, Runaan) again irks me because of the inconsistency, and therefore bias accordingly affecting judgement. Which maybe isn't fair - most people, myself included, are in fandom as a hobby, and for some people that means not evaluating their biases and not wanting to adjust their expectations; I just can't imagine doing anything else

I think Bait mostly serves as emotional support to Ezran and a lil guy to Talk to for Callum (2x05, 4x02) when a human character wouldn't quite make sense or is gone (Rayla is his usual confidant, for example). Stella is more interesting to me from a structure standpoint as 1) a character connected to the Star arcanum who thus far doesn't really need to be, so I'm curious there and 2) a juxtaposition to post-timeskip Rayla's "we can't save everyone" that her big heart and soft insides is still there, and still something worth listening to.

[all-pacas]

I know that if he hadn't gotten fired chase would've stayed for years, but how long do you think cameron would've stayed had everything else in human error gone the same? She'd definitely stay at the job and not gotten together with chase after right?

HARD TO SAY, very hard to say, tagging @eliotquillon who to me is the Cameron Whisperer but just spitballing here —

Cameron showed as early as S1 that she was willing to leave House if it felt necessary. Like yes, there was her whole crush/I'm quitting if you don't date me arc, but at the end of Heavy she's shown updating her CV, so quitting/being fired must have been on her mind even a little bit before that mess. There's also a whole mini arc in S2 (TB or Not TB and Hunting) that drives home that Cameron isn't particularly happy, that she doesn't really love her work, that she's stagnant. And this is kind of speculation, but it is interesting how quickly (and unnecessarily) she did quit in Human Error. To me that also implies it's been in the back of Cameron's mind for a while.

Cameron and House constantly butt heads over ethics and moral stances, and I do think Cameron enjoys that fight, but it seems to be based in part on the idea that she will win, that House can change or admit she's right. (In this way they're very similar: they both study people, try to understand them, just from very different angles. They both have to be right.) Speculation, but I think one of the reasons Cameron does leave in Human Error is because Chase gets fired. Not because she's making a gesture of support, but because House (in her words) is "kicking the dog." He's trying to make a point by taking it out on someone who doesn't deserve it.

In S1, Cameron has a whole speech about House only does things because they're right, not to help people but because it's the objective right thing. This is not that. Especially from Cameron's perspective, this is just an unfair lashing out that benefits only House. I think she was probably already a bit more disillusioned and felt stuck, and this was just the proof she needed that she wasn't going to get what she wanted from this job: House (seemingly) only cares about himself, and Cameron needs more than that. If not as the one House cares about, than as the person who gets him, who sees who he is. But House doesn't meet her expectations, again, and she goes.

Cameron does really like working for House, don't get me wrong. She struggles pretty hard in S4 with distancing herself from Diagnostics, which she eventually admits to Foreman. But she's also pretty clear that she doesn't really want to go back, that she loves emergency medicine (sort of the polar option of Diagnostics when you think about it). We all know how much Chase's relationship with House changed after he left, but so did hers. She's finally on an equal level with him now that she doesn't work for House; she has a much firmer footing and he doesn't/can't walk over her as much. She's much happier once she's gone, so I think she would have left eventually either way. She really didn't need all that much to push her out the door.

(But, if House didn't fire Chase and they both stayed… yeah, they probably don't date. Or they do, but it's after a Big Event. Cameron absolutely needs a Trigger to force herself to act on any feelings.)