below empty

Ok but rock climber Pidge tho

I can’t believe I haven’t thought of this yet?? It’s perfect and also works so well with her weapon

  • Sam started taking her when she was young cause he and Colleen felt she needed something physical to do with herself, something that would take her away from her computers for at least a little while
  • They tried all sorts of things in the beginning; soccer, swimming, gymnastics, ballet, figure skating, hockey, anything they could think of, but she was always unhappy, always dragging her feet to classes, always inventing excuses to get out of going
  • ((See the problem is Katie is too bullheaded to take well to structured lessons where she has to listen to a teacher and too independent to really thrive in team sports))
  • But the nice thing about climbing is when you start young you don’t even need to attend classes. So long as your parent/guardian/person accompanying you knows what they’re doing it can just be like “ok you’re tied in now go, climb”
  • It’s perfect for Katie
  • She gets to be independent, gets to do her own thing and find her own hand- and foot-holds, puzzling out the route up the rock face like she’d puzzle out one of her computer problems
  • Plus it’s an activity she gets to do with her family (because of course they all go; Matt won’t let his baby sister beat him at anything)
  • They start off mostly outside on real rock faces cause the gyms all have these stupid rules where children under 10 are required to take lessons and that would defeat the whole purpose
  • Katie grumbles and bitches and moans about being outside but once she gets to the crag she settles; she truly genuinely enjoys climbing, it’s the perfect sport for her. It’s good enough that she’ll forget to be annoyed that she’s outside
  • Sam lets her do this thing when she’s climbed well where as he’s lowering her back down he’ll just stop and hold her about 7 feet off the ground and she’ll bounce side to side on the rock face doing what she calls “the spiderman”
  • She has the perfect body type for a climber tbh–she’s small, which gives her a high weight-to-muscle ratio, which means climbing comes naturally to her
  • She’s also maybe just a bit of an adrenaline junkie (I think all climbers are to a certain extent). There’s nothing quite like the rush of reaching the top of a route, the satisfaction of making it, sitting in your harness and looking down at all the empty space below you, or looking out over miles and miles of land, that initial lurch where you go from holding onto the rock to sitting back in your harness to be lowered, that split-second of gut reaction “oh no I’m gonna fall” before your weight is fully supported by the rope
  • lmao I’m just rambling at this point but this idea came to me when I was–you guessed it–out climbing with my dad. And I had to take a moment because it’s literally perfect for Pidge
  • Also like, Pidge all decked out in climbing gear is my #aesthetic ok

anonymous asked:


Authors Note: This is short and not great, but I feel like my brain is fried. Yikes. Xx 

You have always adored the feeling of sleeping beside someone, whether it be your childhood best friend- bribing her to stay with you while Harry is gone, or whether it be sleeping next to your Mum when you need some reassurance.
There is always something about having someone asleep next to you that makes you feel secure and safe. 

It is not unusual for you to wake up a few times during the night once falling asleep, you are a light sleeper, with that being said, just the sound of the wind manages to wake you up on most occasions. 

You are always aware of the different sounds in the middle of the night, you know the sound of rain hitting the roof, the sound the heater sometimes makes as it is doing its best to keep the house warm, everything has a sound that occurs and you know each sound like the back of your hand.

You take a deep breath as an unusual sound stirs you, the noise making your heart beat a little faster as you tug at the covers of the bed. For a moment you think nothing of it, perhaps it is the neighbour’s cat again, but when it happens again you sit up in the bed, biting down on your lip. 

You look beside you to see Harry fast asleep, his body cuddled against the sheets, his hand tucked under his pillow, his soft snores echoing. For a moment you contemplate waking him, you hate disturbing him while he sleeps, but the noise has managed to rattle you into thinking terrible thoughts. Murderer, burglar, the list is honestly endless. 

Keep reading

crying over a porcelain sink at your aunt’s house,
tears and blood draining,
angry at everything.

not being able to speak
to the only friend you have left
because you can’t find the words,
     there are none.

nothing musical lives in you anymore,
she came in and ripped away the melodies
and harmonies you had in your heart.

broken-hearted and bloody-nosed,
you realize while looking at someone
who resembles yourself in the mirror -
     you’ve lost it all.

nothing, nothing, nothing.
you are nothing,
you mean nothing,
     you are nothing.

this wouldn’t happen
if you’d love someone who loved you back,
this wouldn’t happen
if you weren’t stupid enough to follow people
who kick wishing flowers in the spring.

you wrote about broken hearts like you knew,
and you did.
but you never wrote about someone
who not only broke you,
but ground the bits of glass skin and veins into dust.

echoes of voices telling you to cut deeper
and find yourself again
are drowning out everything you know.
every day you are struggling, every day you grow weak.

wind whispers to the empty cavern below your rib cage,
     where are you?
     what’s happened?
     oh! - what have you done?

your hands shake a little too much,
you can’t keep food down.
you are sick, but the only thing the
people around you say is
     do better.

you leave the house at night
to find something to escape to,
and feel a flicker of something old there.
so you do it again, and again,
and your mom loses her trust with you.

     i love you’s
     turn into i don’t know you’s
and you cry and scream into a pillow late at night -
realizing that even the maps back to who you are
are distorted.

you are nothing but bad decisions
and drunken phone calls at 2 AM
to people who would rather be fucking a pretty girl
who knows what she’s doing.

when your best friend tells you
that you are the thing that haunts your dreams,
you realize you are truly something malicious.

when she leaves, all you remember from her
are her dissatisfied eyes, and embarrassment
of your fumbled words and miscalculated actions.

the only thing you seem to hear anymore
reverberates in your skull and turns into a grand crescendo
of despair when you are alone,
     you didn’t matter.

you can’t escape it, you learn she is right.
you dispose of yourself, and try to outrun
the dark things her heart let into yours
when you so stupidly opened up the iron gates.

sometimes, most times, it does not work.
you are devoured by those creatures with
skeletal hands and the stench of death leaking from them.

every moment before a reckless action
is made, you remember that
you are nothing,
you’ve become nothing,
     and you’ve done it to yourself.

then you free fall into something
with knives and swords,
and twist and turn and thrash to hold onto something tangible,
but simply end up with cuts and blood
and a sinking feeling.

External Forces: Part 2.

internallydeceased asked:
First of all, I love you all so much you’re amazing at what you do and inspire me so much. Thank you for this blog I have not lived before this. I’m not sure if this has been done before or not, but what if Claire found out she was pregnant before she fully realized her feelings for Jamie?

Find Part One; HERE.


Silence engulfed the party as they rode, solemnly, away from Fort William.

Jamie was angry, his stern jerks of Donas jolting Claire this way and that as they rode hard and fast across the vast Scottish countryside.

Claire, lost in the mire of her dark thoughts, couldn’t help but worry.

Had she hit the table too hard?

Had Randall forced her womb too ungraciously into the unyielding wood as he’d stripped her in his office?

Nothing seemed amiss yet…and she couldn’t feel any blood…but only time would tell.

“Water him for me, would ye?” Jamie’s voice echoed in her ear as he pulled her from the horse and led her away from the party.

She went, compelled to do so by his touch alone. But she wasn’t present. Her mind kept throwing up images from that dark room: the way her bodice had been torn from her, her breasts bared to *him* as she had been in the glade.

She could see Jamie’s mouth moving, could see the intense flare of passion rise behind his irises, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the words.

Instead she simply stood, listened and nodded where she felt it was needed.

Unbeknownst to Jamie, Claire failed to hear any of his warnings, or any of his ire.

“Claire….CLAIRE!” he yelled, when she’d obviously failed to give him the correct answer.

“Do ye ken what it is, what’s just happened? I…there…weel,” he choked, emotion battling with fact as he tried to spill out the words he so desperately wanted her to hear. “Do ye ken what it is to open a window and see that man, a man that laid my back open, wi’ his filthy hands over yer naked body? Do ye, Claire?”

Startled, Claire nodded, her mouth bone dry as she tried to hold herself in the present.

*How did this happen?* she questioned internally, her hands staying clenched by her sides –though fighting not to cocoon her flat abdomen as if shielding the precious cargo that lay beneath.

Disturbed by her lack of coherence, Jamie huffed; giving up on his rant, he took her by the arm and led her back to the party, eager to be away from this place.

Murtagh quirked a brow at his godson as he watched them meander back, his gaze lingering on Claire a little too long as she leaned into Jamie, solely guided by the tilt of his hand at her waist.

The rest of the ride back to the inn Dougal was currently waiting in wasn’t much more animate. The men began to joke and jest amongst themselves, but it was clear to them all that Claire wasn’t in her right mind. Both Angus and Rupert were still less than impressed with having to rescue her –though, admittedly, they had both quite enjoyed the thrill of striking some of the red coats.

Murtagh and Jamie both kept silent on the matter, neither willing to debate it with the others in tow.

Upon reaching the taphouse, Claire said nothing. She simply dismounted of her own accord, hitched up her skirts and pulled her cape around her shoulders. Head down, she made her way inside, and proceeded to climb the stairs, assuming she could curl up on one of the beds and ignore the rowdy drunks below.

As it happened –luckily– Dougal had procured them a room. He watched, eyes trained on her hunched back, as she ghosted out of sight.

“Ye need to teach that one a little about discretion, Jamie lad,” he sneered, swilling the cheap whisky around the large tumbler.

“Aye, he’s right,” Ned piped up, looking apologetically at Jamie over his glasses as he turned to face the returned men. “She needs to ken the consequences o’ her actions. Wandering off here isna to be done lightly.”

Murtagh nodded, clouting Angus around the back of the head as the small Scotsman jibed with Rupert about their Fort William antics. “She needs to ken what she almost cost us,” he said, a gruff note to his voice as he glanced sideways at Rupert and Angus, warning them to heed a similar warning.

Sighing, Jamie nodded, his gaze immediately following the steps Claire had taken only moments before.

He could still hear the groan of the floorboards as she readied herself for bed, the dim reverberation of her movements rattling through the half-empty tavern below.


Crawling under the covers, Claire pulled the duvet up and over her head, trying to shield herself from the world. All of those years with Frank …and nothing; yet with Jamie, he’d managed to do in one short night what her and Frank had failed to do over a number of years.

“Sassenach…” came a quiet voice, the door creaking open as Jamie tentatively crept into the small room, “we have something more to discuss, you and I…”

He seemed nervous, on edge to the point that his words were not as confident as they had been earlier.

Claire’s heart thudded in her chest as she pushed back the quilt, tucking it around her middle as she wiped the sleep from her eyes, fully conscious again now she’d warmed up a bit.

Taking off his belt with measured precision, Claire started to grasp his meaning, her eyes growing wide at the sight of him disrobing in such a way.

“J-Jamie…?” she queried, her voice cracking on the word as she glanced between the belt as he ran it through his fingers and slapped the leather together in preparation, and his eyes, focused directly on her.

“Claire, now, lass…dinna gi’ me that look. Ye’ve done wrong by all the men, led us into the clutches of Randall and his merciless dragoons. Ye ken,” he paused, taking one small step towards her as she rose and scuttled back on the double bed until her feet hung over the edge, ready to bolt if needed. “If it had just been me, I wouldna have said anymore about it. But it wasna. And ye must suffer for it.”

“No!” she squeaked, the high pitch sound hurting her ears as she moved to the side, trying to dodge Jamie’s sly movements.

“Now, Claire,” he pleaded, blatantly put off by the idea of having to do such a thing to her, but needing to follow through on his promise to the men below, “dinna argue wi’ me. Just get down on the bed and lift yer shift.”

Shaking her head fiercely, Claire pushed herself back against the headboard, her fingers splaying against the cold wood as she breathed through the panic that was rising in her throat.

Twice in as many hours she’d nearly been brutally raped; she’d been tied and accosted, ridden half across Scotland and she was tired, incredibly tired. Truly, she didn’t have it in her to fight, but a small fluttering beat from her womb urged her onwards.

Swallowing back the bile that was working its way out of her stomach and along her esophagus, Claire steadied herself. Clenching her jaw tight, she held eye contact with Jamie, hers swimming in unshed tears, as she let her right hand hover gently over her belly, fingertips tapping out a gentle pattern against her shift-covered skin.

“No, Jamie, you can’t…please…” she begged, making one final attempt to make him see sense –or at least see something from her perspective.

“Nay, Claire. Ye canna persuade me from this duty, whatever it takes…I will ha’ to show ye the lash. Dinna make it hard on me, aye?”

“H-hard…on you?” she shot back, her eyes hardening as she hunched her shoulders - ready for battle. “I t-think I’m pregnant…” she blurted out, her whole body shaking with fear and rage as adrenaline coursed through her at an alarming rate. “You can’t beat me…because I’m carrying your child.”

Below, Dougal, Murtagh, Ned, Angus and Rupert all stared at the ceiling as, in one loud clatter, they all simultaneously heard Jamie’s belt hit the floor, the tinkling ring of the buckle slapping together as it hit the deck. The wind whistled through the place, the thin beams rattling as the men all rolled their eyes and returned to their conversation.

“Seems she’s tamed him,” Dougal muttered, taking a final swig of whisky before slamming it down on the table and taking himself off to bed. “As soft as his mother, that one.”

Murtagh shook his head. Turning to Ned, he spoke lowly, trying to avoid being overheard. “Though I dinna disagree, I doubt she’d ha’ turned him so easily. The lass must have a good enough reason,” he murmured, tapping his boots restlessly against the straw covered floor as a dim yellow hint of dawn began to filter into the small tap room.

“Aye, Murtagh,” Ned agreed, his face calm and stoic. “I think ye might be right.”

As someone who happens to really enjoy wine, delicious food, and beautiful countrysides, I can’t help but love Napa County just north of me, here in San Francisco. I also have Napa to thank for Olivia O’Brien, the fast rising chanteuse who gave us eternally infectious “hate u, love u”. The young talent, now based out of LA, is signed to Island Records. She’s been tipped by V magazine as “the next generation of Taylor Swift-esque anthems wrapped in the sweet vocals of Lorde and maturity of Lana”, and she continues to impress with a new single named Empty, which really isn’t empty at all. This smoky curling, synth heaving R&B pop number addresses the melancholy and confusion Olivia felt when she first moved to LA. I’d imagine if Lana and Alessia Cara made a song together, it’d sound similar to this tune, which comes with a music video you can watch below. 

Made with SoundCloud
The Seduction of Jazz

A few months after college graduation, I moved to a tiny studio apartment in Manayunk, a neighborhood in northwest Philadelphia.  My apartment was on top of a bar tending school and was large enough for a bed and a coffee table, nothing more. To give you perspective, the kitchen stove was about four feet away from where I slept.  I found a picture of my empty apartment below and the photo was taken in the “kitchen”. It was here where I remember first listening to jazz….on purpose. 

My short-lived love affair with jazz started one night after I watched Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris.  I always have romanticized the 1920s but the movie triggered a night’s worth of appreciation. I poured myself a glass a wine, sat on the stool near my window, lit a cigarette, and listened to the sounds of Louie Armstrong while watching the night life below me. That evening was so pleasurable that I made it a weekly habit that lasted about six months…

I later moved in with one of my best friends (shout out to Erika) to a new neighborhood in Philly.  Living with a roommate has a lot more pluses than negatives but you do have less time (and freedom) to enjoy nights alone. It was here where I stopped listening to jazz.

Flash forward to the present, where I am being seduced by jazz for a second time, and again it was triggered by a movie.  Although the film is set in modern times rather than the Jazz Age, La La Land’s one protagonist is a passionate jazz musician (played by Ryan Gosling) who’s dream is to open his own jazz club.  This resurfaced memories of my time in Manayunk and the nights where I suppressed the habit of watching TV, playing video games, or being on my phone but rather indulged in a slight buzz and jazz music.

Originally posted by chazelle

The reasons I find jazz so alluring is because:

  • Jazz was the soundtrack to the Roaring Twenties, a decade that was progressive and rebellious.  Women’s suffrage was at its peak at the turn of the decade and women wanted a new standard for themselves. Women danced, smoked, drank, and talked freely about sex.  African American culture had a big impact on the 20s and females like Bessie Smith took over the radio. The youth took to night clubs and speakeasies to enjoy different styles of jazz.  People were using automobiles and telephones at large scale and motion pictures grew in popularity and accessibility. Those in their teens and twenties rebelled against the cultural norms of the older generations and progressive cities like London, Paris, and New York experienced a new “cultural edge”. In France, the Roaring Twenties are known as the Crazy Years which speaks to the chaotic nature of this decade.

Originally posted by lavieburlesque

  • Jazz is ever-changing.  Ryan Gosling’s character touches on this during a scene in La La Land –> jazz has a improvisational component to it which allows the artist to change up a song every time he/she plays it. This means that if you are listening to a live jazz band/artist, you may never hear that unique version of the song they are playing ever again. The same artist can play the same song over and over but the piece, to those that really listen, is always new.  Jazz also, on a larger scale, has evolved over time, as most genres do.  I encourage you to check out reddit user johno456′s answer to the thread below (also earning him reddit gold) to better understand the changes in jazz throughout the last few decades:
  • Jazz gives me the feels.  Jazz makes me feel optimistic, sexy, and inspired.  I feel mature, yet youthful.  I find the whole experience of listening to jazz very pleasurable.

If you want to dabble, here are some of my recos:

Dream a Little Dream of Me - Ella Fitzgerald

Let’s Get Lost - Chet Baker

Heebie Jeebies - Chick Webb & His Orchestra

The Girl From Ipanema - Amy Winehouse (+ the original version from Gets/Gilberto)

Originally posted by clubyonkidecaballeros

anonymous asked:

#2 for tsukishima please???

《With a hoarse voice, under the blankets.》

He just couldn’t sleep lately. Every time he’d shut his eyes and try to focus on anything besides the malice, his mind would run right back to it again. She was quiet next to him, huddled up in an old, Hello Kitty quilt. She looked so peaceful, so at ease with her face buried in the pillows, eyebrows furrowed together intently as if they were meant to be that way. Even in her sleep she was thinking about something, and Kei couldn’t help but wonder what.
“What’s on that beautiful mind of yours, hm?” He caught himself whispering, his shaky hand reached for her forehead but stopped halfway there. “Whatever it is, it’s surely not this horror story I’m dealing with.” He finally let his fingertips brush against her, taking in her everything for a moment before backing away, slipping out of bed to do something about the nasty migraine he’s been hosting all night. The hardwood floor was freezing underneath him, the moon and only the brightest of pollutant beating stars still prominent way up in the sky. Sometimes he just disregarded medicine all together and sat on the balcony, taking in the comfort from the sky above and the empty streets below. He’d sit down on a cast iron patio chair, and lay his arms across the cast iron railing and lay his head down, closing his eyes against the force of the gentle harbor breeze. Sometimes he wondered how he even got here, with his head full of nightmares and his heart full of sorrow. Thousands and thousands of miles away from home, Five thousand, two hundred, sixty seven miles to be exact, and for what? Five thousand, two hundred, sixty seven miles away from home to run away from some distant memory, hoping in that distance, the pain would get lost along the way. He was happy now, truly, and he thought back to her in the bed, just twenty feet away, soon to be fifteen, then five, then zero, because he knew she couldn’t sleep without his presence, and even in the worst days she’d follow him out to the balcony, pull out a chair next to him, and sit there, holding his hand until he wanted to go inside. It was always like that, and part of him loved it. Was it romantic? Quite possibly, if insomnia was put in the retrospect of being romanticized. Fisherman started undocking their boats on the canal down below, shouting at each other in a language Kei couldn’t quite comprehend. They didn’t notice him, but he watched them, his fingers tracing lazy circles around the bar on the railing as their foreign conversation dragged on, dragging his interest with him. Behind him, the balcony door squeaked, and even though he knew exactly who the perpetrator was, he still jumped, the iron chair rattling underneath him. She giggled, wrapping her warm, tired arms around his neck from behind, her lips toying at the nape of his neck.
“Hey, it’s just me…” She cooed, and Kei took the opportunity to sigh.
“I know…” He grabbed her hand and held them closer to his chest. He always wondered why her hands were always so cold, yet the rest of her was always so warm. He said nothing as he placed them over his heart, goosebumps prickling along his bare arms. It was only fifty degrees, yet fifty degrees was warm for a place like this, especially at the break of dawn. She didn’t even bother to sit next to him today, just holding him as time ever so slowly passed by.
“Do you want to go back to bed?” She muttered after some time, lethargy still hinted in the very crevices of her voice. He wanted to tell her that it was stupid of her to even follow him out here in the first place, that she didn’t need to, that she could just stay by herself inside until his pity party subsided. She wouldn’t listen, though, she never did. He liked to say she was as stubborn as she was beautiful, sometimes. He tilted his head back and looked into her eyes for the first time that morning, the soft gaze and knowing eyes enough to melt his heart all over again. He nodded, letting go of her hands over her chest and sulking back inside, sparing one last glance to the lost fishermen on the canal.

She burrowed herself under the same Hello Kitty quilt as before, pulling him closer and draping it around his shoulders. He sighed, part of him feeling ridiculous, usually he wanted that thing kept as far away from him as possible, but now that it practically engulfed him, he couldn’t help but lean into the solace of its warmth. She spared him a chuckle, cupping his head in her hands and kissing the corner of his lips in the singular way that made his head spin. Her fingertips were still cold, but her lips were ever so warm, and goosebumps broke out on his skin once more.
“You’re being oddly affectionate today…” He croaked, leaning in to notion that he only wanted more.
“Is it a crime to kiss my boyfriend now, Tsukishima Kei?”
“If it was a crime, I wouldn’t mind going to prison.”
“Oh.” She peeped, quietly before breaking out into giggles. “That was horrible. You really do need to sleep, baby, replenish your wit before you say that to me ever again.”
Kei found himself laughing, burying himself deeper into the quilt on top of him. He still looked up at her, the sudden sunlight filtering through the blinds making him squint even more than he was before. The softness of the light that casted through made her look like an angel, he thought, an absolute divine deity. Although she had bags that made her look like she had received two black eyes and frizzy bed head that was only more prominent against the light source, she looked perfect to him.
“I love you.” He said with a hoarse voice, under the blankets. She looked straight at him with amused eyes, blinking ever so slowly until they shut, and she leaned over to kiss him. He melted into it, his hand heavy against the side of her torso.
“I love you too.” She muttered, between a broken kiss. “More than you could ever imagine.”

= (singing by myself for you)

take my music out, it’s you
fit the size of my mind you do
and you’re formed into something new
oh, i

on the stage, self and i
i am still surrounded by
earth-spun iron, a divide
oh, i

so there, it is now let go
from above, so so slow
to the empty seats below
oh, i

( a pause for the music beat )

then i punch in my looper, looper
step in the quick dance super, super
you put me in a stupor, stupor
oh, i

oh why oh why oh why
oh, i

Devil’s Advocate - Chanyeol x Reader AU - Prologue

Vampire!Chanyeol X Angel!Reader

Genre: Action, fluff, angst

Warnings: Violence, blood, language, sexual situations/sexual tension, mentions of abuse, possible triggers

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 |

The thunder and pelting rain drowned out every other noise, and emphasized the menacing black storm clouds that engulfed you as you continued to plummet to your untimely demise below. The empty pit in your stomach grew larger and larger with every second that you continued to free fall down to the foreign entity below you. Your arms grasped uselessly at the open sky surrounding you in a futile attempt to gain balance. The harsh strike of lightning was accompanied by the contorted flapping of your dead, birdlike wings, feathers being twisted by the wind. At most you had thirty seconds before you would be reduced to an undignified pile of blood and feathers on the earthen floor below you. 

I’m going to die like this.

Tears combined with the relentless onslaught of rain to blind your vision. Your lungs began to fight for air as the chemicals in your brain were released to instill a fight for survival. The suffocation of panic quickly overcame your consciousness, and a shroud of darkness enveloped your mind as the world below you began to close the distance.

“I told you I don’t play games" 

The grip around the man’s throat tightened as his attacker threatened him, baring his thin, sharp canines that identified him as a latent monster.

"I- I said I wasn’t lying. I- I swear,” the hostage choked out, clawing at his assaulter’s wrists in a feeble attempt to relieve the pressure against his throat.

“You willingly came here, among the den of vampires, risking your life to tell me a shitty, useless piece of information like that and expect me to believe it?” The inhuman eyes narrowed as the attacker raised the man against the wall, his shorter legs kicking in desperation.

“I- s-saw her with my own eyes” the man strained his voice as he wheezed for air.

“Too bad for you I don’t believe something until I see it for myself.” His grip tightened in an attempt to fatally suffocate his victim, but seconds before the oxygen was cut off entirely, a panicked knock came at the metal door sealing off the abandoned, empty room.

The grip around the victim’s neck released as the taller man sighed disappointedly and ruffled his neon crimson hair.

“What in God’s name is it now?” The man turned away from the gasping heap on the ground as he walked to the door, “I thought I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed unless the place is on fire or money is falling from the sky." 

"About that sir,” the recipient on the other side of the door croaked nervously. The red-haired man swung the iron door open as the henchman continued.

“we’ve found her.”

The vampire’s face morphed from one of mischievous anger to one of seriousness in an instant.

“We located the fallen angel.”

Originally posted by eubilla-empress-of-suburbia

A/N: So this is my first series! I’ve written a few drabbles here and there that I’ve posted to my old blog but I’ve decided to begin anew! (rip me) Things are somewhat complicated/confusing in the beginning but I promise everything will be explained in due time. (Thought the world could be made better with s’more vampire!Chanyeol, and my brain decided to say “Why stop there?” and made reader an angelic being so ENJOY) <3

UPDATE: If anyone has any questions concerning the setting, I got the inspiration from the Monster and Lotto MV’s so feel free to watch those if you’re confused~


Good Girl Ch 28: Birthday Pt 3

I can’t help but laugh at the sight of my dear Sehun in a cute pink apron. He pouts cutely at me, “Baby, stop laughing and get over here so I can put yours on.” Doing my best not to laugh I join him on the other side of the counter of a beautiful bakery we took over. On our way in we passed all the delicious looking cakes and other desserts that Sehun scolded me for trying to eat.

Set out on the counter is a premade cake all ready for us to decorate, different colored frosting, candies that look like jewels and many other things. Sehun hands me a knife with a warning look, “Don’t get hurt and don’t tell Kyungsoo hyung that I let you use a knife or I’ll spank you.”

My response is out of nowhere and surprisingly automatic, “Is that a promise?”

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours,” He dips his finger in one of the bowls of frosting and pokes my nose.

“Daddy,” I whine.

He chuckles, leaning in close he licks it off with a satisfied smirk.

“So what have all of you guys been doing today?” I wonder as I try and smooth the frosting out.

“Business stuff.”

I nod, knowing that is the best I’m going to get, “Speaking of business stuff, I heard about what’s going to happen this summer. Are you excited to follow your brothers around?”

He scoffs, “It’s freaking ridiculous. I swear to god the only reason they decided to do it, is because they were jealous that we would get you while they were at work.”

“I wonder what you guys will do with me.” I’ve never been left in the house by myself before, they barely leave me alone in a room. There is always someone right next to me, I frown at the idea of being alone again.

“You will be coming with us without a doubt. We already discussed renovating the empty floor below their offices into a place for you to hang out while we are working.”

“Good to know I have nothing to worry about. I never thought I would say those words,” I chuckle. “I’m liking this situation more than I thought I would.”

“Situation?” I can tell he’s offended. “Is that what you think this is?”

I stop what I’m doing to meet his glare. “This,” I gesture to the both of us, “is a relationship. I love you, all of you. But when I first got here, it was a situation, don’t you try to tell me it wasn’t. We were still trying to figure out how we all felt about each other. And the main situation I’m talking about is the whole daddy thing. I never thought I would do something like this but I love it.”


I nod, “I didn’t really enjoy the possessiveness and all the rules but after awhile I began to see it as love. No one except for Jihyo ever really took care of me so I didn’t really think I could do it but now I’m all for taking a step back and letting someone else drive.”

“So you are really happy here with us?”

I click my tongue at him, “Of course, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

He comes closer and kisses me softly. “I love you too.”

We spend our hour decorating the very ugly cake in too much frosting, candy pearls and multi colored sprinkles. Our laughs are probably heard by passers by and the people who live above the little shop. When Kai comes in I’m sitting on the counter while Sehun is cleaning my face. Like me, he can’t help but laugh at Sehun in an apron and covered in frosting from the food fight we had.

“Don’t make fun of my Sehunnie!” I defend my dongseang by pulling him into a tight hug.

He chuckles in my embrace, returning the hug and kissing my softly, “Noona, you’re so cute when you’re protective.”

“Okay lover boy, she’s mine now,” Kai pouts. Sehun rolls his eyes before pecking my lips and lifting me off the counter. Kai help me with my jacket and leads me out of the shop. “Looks like you had fun,” He teases wiping away some frosting that got on to my neck.

“I did, I’ve been having a lot of fun today. What are we going to be doing?” I ask as we walk aimlessly down a busy street, Kai’s are is around me.

“Well since you weren’t able to find a dress for tonight when you were with Kris, we talked about it and decided to let you window shop instead of us just giving you options.”

“I would accept any dress you guys gave me.”

He cocks his head at me and gives me one of his signature grins, “Really? Even that baby doll one I picked out for you? Kris said you hated it.”

“That was you who picked it out? I was guessing Luhan or Soo.”

“There is a street of shops up here, if you want to go inside any of them just tell me.” I nod. We wander into random stores that seem like they would have what we’re looking for but in every store we come up empty. Yes, we find pretty dresses that we like but nothing that is good enough in Kai’s eyes for me. After walking out of the fifth store we continue along for about ten minutes until I see the perfect dress on a mannequin in on of the windows. I point it out to him and without question he leads me strait into the store and up to the counter. “We want that one in a size 3.”

The woman behind the counter seems to recognize him and bows quickly before rushing off to find the dress in my size. I raise a brow at him, “I didn’t know you guys were so famous.”

“Infamous fits us better. We have some bars and restaurants around here so we are pretty well known.”

The woman comes back in the dress in hand and it’s absolutely amazing. I can tell from the smile on Kai’s face he likes it too. It is a modern, toned down version of the dressed he had picked out for me at the dress store. It’s a nice ivory, with lots of lace and an open back. I thank her, she leads me to the dressing room to try it on.

“Even if you decide you don’t want it for dinner you are getting that dress for me,” Kai teases from the other side of the dressing room door. Since the shop is open to the public he thought it would be better for me to change myself. I love it even more when I have it on, it ends mid thigh, and reveals a small amount of my chest threw the lace. “Baby, give me one second, the shop owner wants to talk to me about something.”

“Okay!” I look at myself for a few more minutes feeling very narcissistic for doing so. I remember seeing a pair of shoes that would go great with it and decide to go find them. The shop isn’t very busy, there is group of boys just coming in but I’m too short to be seen amongst the clothing racks. I find the pair of golden heels I’m looking for and begin searching for either Kai or a worker to help me get my size down from the high shelf.

“Can I help you with something Beautiful?” I turn around to find a strangely attractive man with a jaw that could cut threw glass.

“I’m just looking for my boyfriend,” I answer calmly, my alarms don’t ring so I don’t feel threatened, not to mention Kai is most likely within screaming distance and my other daddies are somewhere near by.

“Boyfriend?” He clicks his tongue, “What a shame.” His eyes rake over me, “You look very familiar, have we met?”

I’m debating if he’s still hitting on me or being serious when a familiar voice calls my name, “Miss. Jooyoung!” Junhoe comes over to me with a group of boys trailing behind him.

“Junhoe!” I give him a small bow, sighing when he returns with a full 90 degree one.

“Miss. Jooyoung?” The sharp jawed man questions a bit breathless.

Junhoe nods, “This is the girl Hyungnim tells us about.”

The man is on his knees bowing in an instant, “I’m so sorry, please don’t tell Hyungnim, he will kill me. No, he’ll do worse than kill me! Please don’t tell him!”

“It’s fine,” I say trying to get the man to stand up.

“Hyung, stop your fucking crying,” Another boy steps up and gets the man from the ground.

“I don’t want to die!”

“You are not going to die, at least not because of Jiyong oppa, my boyfriend on the other hand looks like he is about to rip your head off.” I finally see Kai in a full black suit and he looks really good but he does not look one bit happy.

“Tell Jiyong hyung that if he wants to see our Jooyoung he can come himself instead of sending his fucking foot soldiers, I would respect him more,” Kai growls as he pulls me away from the group of boys.

Foot soldiers, huh?

They don’t look very intimidating, maybe it’s because Kai is here glaring down at them. A smaller one, he doesn’t look more than a few inches taller than me, and the one who picked up his friend from the floor are the only ones who don’t look like they about to cry. The more I look at them, the more I think of my friends, are they my daddies foot soldiers, at least some of them? These boys don’t look much older than me but looks can be deciving, especially the little one.

The mean one steps forward, “Our boss doesn’t know we are here, we are off the clock,” From the way he talks I’m guess he’s the leader of the band of boys.

“What a coincidence that we run into you and Seunghyun in one day?” Kai’s glare doesn’t falter.

“Oppa,” I say sternly, earning all of their attention. “It was an accident. Junhoe looked genially surprised to see me.”

“You know them?”

“Only Junhoe, he’s a waiter at Jiyong oppa’s restaurant.”

Kai sighs, “I’m sorry, I just feel like Jiyong hyung might be a little bitter that we took you on his day with you.”

“He is bitter but he plans to make up for it this weekend,” The boy explains coldly.

“You should smile more,” I say flatly.

His eyes flicker to me but another boy answers me, “Our boss has been really irritable today because he won’t see you for awhile and he’s been taking it out on our hyung. Once our boss calms down, he’ll relax.”

I nod in understanding, “Sorry if he’s being a pain. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Could I send a picture of you in that dress to him?” The small one asks already pulling out his phone.

“Hell no,” Kai snaps.

“Oppa, it will only take a minute,” I snap back firmly. I eye him up for a minute, wondering if he will pull out the daddy card and say I’m breaking a rule or something but instead he takes a deep breath to calm himself.

“Fine, I’m going to pay for that dress, did you want any shoes?”

I nod and point to the box on the high shelf that he easily reaches, “Anything else?”

“You should get that suit. You look really handsome,” I give him a small smile hoping it will make up for the time we are missing. He tries not to blush but fails, quickly turning away. “Okay, go ahead and take the picture. I have to get back to my oppa.”

The small man comes forward and takes a picture of me smiling, he bows, “Thank you.”

“I hope it helps, I gotta go, will I be seeing you guys this weekend?”

Junhoe nods, “We are the boss’s guards this weekend with his head of security, Youngbae Hyungnim.” I nod as if I understand who he is talking about, thanking him silently for adding another name for me to learn. We say our goodbyes and I go to join Kai by the register.

“I swear that man is stalking you,” He says without looking my way.

“I’m sorry, I seem to attract trouble.”

“It’s not your fault, we are the ones who put you in the situation to meet him. You just need to stop being so amazing and drawing all of these bad guys in.”

“Lucky for me I have a thing for bad boys,” I tease as I give him a back hug.

“And bad boys have a thing for sweet girls like you.”

“It makes me laugh how all the bad boys want to protect me from other bad boys.”

He chuckles, “You are either the luckiest girl in the world or unluckiest.”

“If being unlucky got me where I am, I’m just fine with that, I don’t want to be anywhere else right now.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, kissing the top of my head, “My baby is so sweet.”

“Oh little one,” Xiumin’s sweet voice calls out. I’m taken away from Kai’s embrace and pulled into Xiumin’s. “I’ve been so worried about you,” The older man coos.

“Minnie,” Luhan whines, “I want to see her!”

“You guys fight like children,” Kai scoffs at his hyungs, only earning himself a few smacks to the head. I’m dragged back to the dressing room where the dress is gently pulled off of me and am dressed in work out shorts and a t-shirt. Xiumin pulls out a pair of sweatpants to where over the shorts until we get to where ever we are going. Kai is gone by the time we come back out. They each hold one of my hands in theirs as we walk down the street, I feel as if they are closer than they need to be but I’m enjoying the warmth.

“I hope you are ready to have some fun,” Luhan beams at me.

I laugh at their childish cuteness, “What are we going to be doing that has you guys so excited?” A dirty thought passes threw my head and I stop in my tracks once we enter some tall building. They look back at me concerned. I don’t know if my naughty thoughts are right but can’t help it when my body starts to tingle at the thought. Of course I’ve thought about sleeping with more than one of them at a time but the idea just seemed too deviant for me to suggest myself. I didn’t think it would be them to suggest it though, I’ve always thought it would be Baekhyun and Chanyeol or Kai and Sehun. Definitely situations I would not mind but still the two oldest have always been very selfish when it comes to my time with them, for them to agree to this something must be up.

“What’s wrong little one?” Xiumin questions.

“Are you not feeling well?”

I want to uses the right words to not make it sound so perverted but end up saying, “I don’t think an hour is enough time for us three to have sex.” They look from me to each other before busting out laughing, my face flushes at my own words.

“We were not planning on having sex but it seems to be on your mind,” Luhan manages to say threw his laughing.

“We were going to play a game of soccer but if you really want we can head up to an empty room for a quickie. I’m not a fan of sharing but if you really want,” Xiumin teases.

“No, no, soccer is fine,” I mumble as they continue pulling me along with a pout on my face.

The oldest clicks his tongue at me, “Who would have thought that our baby would have such a dirty mind?”

“It’s good to know Baek and Yeolie can go on with their plan,” Luhan glances back at me with a smirk on his face.

“Their plan?” I whimper.

“They have been wanting to have threesome with you for awhile now. They hardly stop talking about it when you’re not there. But they were afraid it would be too much for you since you are still our innocent baby.”

We walk down a few flights of stairs until they open a door to an indoor soccer field. I let go of their hands to run out on to the field just for the hell of it. It’s been forever since I actually ran and even after ten minutes of me just running I don’t really want to stop. But I’m not given much of an option, Luhan takes it upon himself to tackle me to the ground, rolling us over so he takes the impact.

“Are you having fun baby?” He says rolling over once more so he’s on top of me. My chest is heaving and my heart is racing, he looks about the same as me, already exhausted from such a sort run.

“I haven’t ran in forever, it feels so good to be in the open.”

“You are really fast for being so small,” Xiumin plops down next to us in the same condition as us.

“Were you chasing me?” I hadn’t noticed them at all, I was way too focused on the free feeling in my body.

“You were lost in your own head like usual,” Lulu chuckles kissing me shortly.

“So soccer?” I question once Luhan rolls off me and I sit up.

“Have you ever played?”

I shake my head, “I’m not very coordinated so I stayed away from sports but I really want to try if it’s with you guys.”

“We’ll go easy on you,” Xiumin pats my head.

Nine Lives to Live (1/3)

What happens when the ladybug’s chaton runs out of lives to live; but Ladybug isn’t ready to give him up yet. Read on FF

AN: This one was inspired by @littleblackchat’s comic I highly recommend you go and look at it. Bring your tissues. It’s terrible and gorgeous. That being said, this story does not follow the plot of the comic, the comic just put me in an angsty mood that led me down this rabbit hole.

This one is going to hurt, if I’ve done it right. However, since this is my first publication in this fandom and you don’t know my style; I’m going to offer you a first time customer special and promise you that no one will die (permanently) in this fic. Yay?  Thanks for looking it over @xhookswenchx!

Chapter 1: The Fall

The attack had been meant for her, but he’d been faster. He was always faster. At the end of the day, though, she was the only one who could purify the dark magic trapped in the butterfly… so Marinette was forced to forgive him time and time again his self-sacrificial theatrics.

“What have I told you about knight-in-shining-armor routine?” Marinette cried in frustration. He didn’t hear her, of course, he’d already toppled out the open window and Marinette caught her breath. Her eyes lingered there a moment longer than they should have but he had given her just long enough to capture the creature. Her magic released it in an instant with a wave of energy and she hurried towards the window the second the butterfly vanished from her sight.

“Aren’t cats always supposed to land on their fe-” Her voice caught in her throat when she looked out and saw a dark figure sprawled in the empty street below. It wasn’t that high, she tried to reassure herself, sliding down into the street with a grace that Chat apparently hadn’t managed.

She knew this game he was playing; get her all worried and then try to kiss her when she bent too close. It was hardly the first time. She squatted next to him, the tiniest flicker of doubt creeping through her facade. Still he didn’t speak and one more dot vanished from her earring.

“No more cat naps, Chaton, we’re going to change back soon-” she bent and shook his shoulder, muscles tense. Her stomach rose up into her throat and she shook him harder. Finally… finally she felt fear.

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1940s!Bucky Barnes comforting you when you can’t sleep.

••• Requested by Anon •••

The paralyzing hurt spread through your body like cool liquid metal. Your fists clenched as you hesitantly threw the sheets off of your body. You noticed your legs trembling as you took steps across the small bedroom, threatening to completely crumble beneath you as you approached the window.

Pulling the curtains away a touch, you peered at the street below. It was empty, but the street lights still shone through, illuminating your face. As you stared outside, you thought of the day to come. How you’d have to travel to the train station in the early hours of the morning and wave off your sweetheart, who was to begin his training as a soldier.

Tears swelled in your eyes, blurring your vision. Clasping a hand over your mouth, you let them spill over and roll down your cheeks. You tried to take hold of your hysterical sobbing, but the pain came out like an uproar from your throat, in the form of a silent scream. The pearl-shaped tears fell, one after the other with no sign of stopping. Collapsing into the armchair by the window, you let the curtains fall back in place as the salty tears kept coming.


A unflattering hiccup came from you as you lifted your head from your hands to face Bucky Barnes, who was untangling his half naked body from your sheets. Concern was written all over his face as he took in your appearance. You were rubbing furiously at your bloodshot eyes, your lashes sticking together in clumps as if you had been swimming. You tears made wet tracks down your face, past your quivering lips and dripped from your chin.

“Oh, Bucky.” You wept as he dropped down before you and wrapped you in his arms, pulling you close. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his. You clung to him, sinking into the warmth of his bare chest. “I’m being so silly.”

“No, you’re not.” He assured you. “Cry all you want. I’m here.”


Surrounded (Live 02-04-2009)

Pale white moon shines
Down on Colorado
Hide my dirty secrets
Down here in the shadows
Where the quaking aspens
Tremble in the snow
Haul me up the hillside
Hold me high and let me go

Let me fall down through my own roof like a meteorite
Let the world and all its wonders leave me to my toys tonight
And my ninety-six inch
Television screen
Let me die, let me die
Surrounded by machines

High winds knocked the power out last night
But I’ve got my own supply here
All my windows blaze with light
And the light spills through the windows
To the empty plain below
Finds nothing but some trees
And six fresh feet of snow

And I find a broadcast station that’s signed off for the night
And the static floods the speakers in glorious black and white
On my ninety-six-inch television screen
Let me die, let me die
Surrounded by machines

from Moon Colony Bloodbath (2009)

neil josten, pt. I

“It’s just confusing”, Neil mumbled, tapping a cold thumb against the filter of their shared cigarette. Andrew watched as the ashes broke away from the tip and disappeared into the empty air below them, disintegrating like sand in the wind, and listened.

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Yoruba Creation Story

The Yoruba creation story has two main variations. One is cosmogonic, while the other is political. The cosmogenic version also has two versions. 

The first version of the cosmogonic creation story goes as follows. In the beginning, all that existed was the sky and water. A supreme being named Olorun (Olodumare) ruled the sky above, while the goddess Olokun ruled the watery world below. Along with Olorun in the sky, there were also many Orishas. The Orishas were both male and female however, Olorun was neither male or female, but instead an all-powerful supreme being. Olorun and the Orishas lived around a young baobab tree which provided everything that they needed. Olorun told the Orishas that the vast sky was theirs to explore. All the Orishas except one were content to live and explore the sky. 

Obatala was the Orisha who was not content with living around the baobab tree. Like all other Orishas, he had certain powers but he wanted to put his to use. Obatala looked below the clouds and mist in the sky, and realized that there was an empty ocean below the sky. Obatala went to Olorun and asked for permission to make something solid in the waters below. That way there could dry land for all creatures to inhabit. 

Olorun was pleased that Obatala wanted to do something constructive, and gave Obatala the permission to create land in the waters below. Obatala went to Orunmila, the oldest son of Olorun and the God of prophecy, and asked him what he should do to prepare for his mission. Orunmila told Obatala that he would need a gold chain long enough for him to reach the waters below, a snail’s shell filled with sand, a white hen, a black cat and a palm nut. Orunmila and the other Orishas helped Obatala find the items he needed and Obatala went on his journey.

Obatala hung the chain in the corner of the sky and began to climb down. When he climbed halfway down the chain, Obatala realized that he was leaving the world of light and entering the world of twilight. He continued to climb down, and when he got to the end of the chain, he realized that it was too high for him to jump down safely. He wondered what to do and then he heard Orunmila’s voice which told him to use the sand in the snail shell. Obatala did as he was told, he pulled out the snail shell from his bag and poured out the sand into the water below. Orunmila then instructed Obatala to free the white hen. Again, Obatala did as he was told. The hen landed on the sandy waters below. She began scratching the sand, scattering it around. Wherever the sand landed, dry land was created. 

Obatala watched dry land grow beneath him and decided to jump down onto the ground below. He named the place where he landed Ife (Ile-Ife). He saw that the land was barren so he dug a hole and buried the palm nut from his bag into the hole. The tree quickly grew and reached it full height, grew palm nuts which dropped to the ground and grew other trees. Obatala used bark from the trees and built a house. He took the black cat out from the bag and settled with it as his companion. 

Some time passed and Obatala grew bored. He decided to make beings like himself who would be his companions. He began to make figures out of clay, but quickly grew tired and took a break. He went to a palm tree and tapped some wine out of it. He drank some of the wine and without realizing he was drunk, he continued working on his creations. When he was done he called out to Olorun to give life to his creations. He fell asleep, and the next day, he realised that some of his creations were deformed. He swore to never drink again and promised to forever protect those who become deformed because of him. This is how Obatala became the protector of the deformed. 

Obatala’s creation saw his hut and began to construct their own homes around the hut. The people that Obatala created needed food and they began to work the earth. Since iron did not yet exist, Obatala gave his people a copper knife and a wooden hoe. The people grew grains and yams and Ife grew from a small village to a prosperous city. Since Obatala completed his mission on Earth, he was given the title “Obarisha” the king of Orishas. When his work on Earth was done and Obatala grew tired of being the King of Ife, Obatala climbed back the golden chain and went back to the sky. From then on, Obatala spend half his time in the sky and half in Ife. 

The second version of the cosmogonic story does not credit Obatala with the completion of the task. According to this version Obatala was given permission by Olorun to come to the waters below and create land and a new society. However, Obatala got drunk even before he got to the earth and he was unable to do the job. Olorun got worried when he did not return on time, and sent Oduduwa to find out what was going on. When Oduduwa found Obatala drunk, he simply took over the task and completed it. Thus, Oduduwa created land. The spot on which he landed from heaven and which he redeemed from water to become land is called Ife and is now considered the sacred and spiritual home of the Yoruba. Obatala was embarrassed when he woke up and, due to this experience, he made it a taboo for any of his devotees to drink palm wine. Olodumare forgave him and gave him the responsibility of molding the physical bodies of human beings. The making of land is a symbolic reference to the founding of the Yoruba kingdoms, and this is why Oduduwa is credited with that achievement and is seen as the progenitor of the Yoruba people.

Sam &Dean x Sister!Reader | Mother Mary

(and some of the last episode of season 11) ((and the dialogue for that part isn’t 100% the same bc I wanted to change it up a little))

WARNING: major character death, torture, dean saying bitch. Y'know—the usual. I apologize ahead of time for what this may do to you and your feels.

2,688 words

Just a little something I cooked up in under an hour


You stared at your eldest brother for a moment, vision blurring from tears as you tried to blink them back.

“C'mere, kiddo,” Dean mumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around your smaller frame. He buried his face in your sweet-smelling hair, eyes screwing shut. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and you wished it would stay that way. You didn’t want to let go of him. Not if it meant he’d have to leave you.

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, finally letting the tears fall.

His chin quivered, and he hoped you couldn’t feel it against your shoulder.

He rubbed your back with his large hand.

“’M proud of you kid,” he murmured, letting one tear bravely trail down his face. I love you, kid.

He pulled away, and gripped your cheeks in his hands, pasting on a smile and wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

Sam dropped a hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place as you watched Dean disappear.

You let a sob quake it’s way out of your body, and you turned to Sam, burying your face in his jacket as he held your tightly against him, his own tears trailing down his face.


You followed Sam quietly into the bunker, wincing as the heavy metal door slammed shut behind you. You led the way down the stairs, peeling off your jacket, struggling to get your hand out of the sleeve and slinging it over the back of an empty chair, uncaring as it fell to the floor.

You stood there, staring blankly at an empty beer bottle that had been left on the table. Where Dean had left it.

You heard Sam stop behind you, taking off his own jacket.

“Well, hello.”

You jumped, head flying up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

A blonde woman stood at the top of the shirt steps that led up to the second part of the library.

“Sam and [Y/N] Winchester, I presume?” She further questioned, eyes ghosting over the forms of you and your older brother. “I’m going to need you to come with me.”

“Like hell,” you ground out.

Her brow furrowed. “There’s supposed to be three of you? Where’s Dean?”

“Dead,” Sam said, voice low. The single word sent your whole body cold.

“Oh, well,” she sighed, slightly caught off guard. “You’ll do then. Come along!”

“No, lady,” Sam said, stepping forward so he was only a foot behind you. “We just lost someone, we really don't—”

She took out a gun, cocking it. “I really don’t think you want to argue with me.”

Sam went to step forward again, and she quickly aimed it at you, making him stop. “Put the gun down,” Sam growled.

“One more step and I shoot.”

“You don’t want to shoot us. You need us, apparently. You wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Sam countered.

Her gun faltered for a moment, and Sam stepped forward again, not even finishing his move as a shot rang out.

And then another.

Then blackness.


“The last time you saw Sam, he was a year or so old, right?”

“Yes. And [Y/N] was just about to be three months.”

Dean led his mother down the stairs of the bunker, excited to see his siblings, and also excited for them to see their mother.

“[Y/N/N]! Sammy!” He called out, grinning.

The grin slipped off his face when he laid eyes on the carnage.

Two blood smears on the concrete floor. Your jacket laying haphazardly to the side. He picked it up, inspecting it. The fabric clenched in his fist when he found the fresh blood stains.

“What happened?” Mary asked, surveying the scene.

“I don’t know,” Dean said, laying your jacket over the back of a chair. “I’m gonna look around, you stay in here, okay?”

He searched the bunker, but to no avail. You and Sam were no where to be found.

He walked back into the library to find his mom pointing a weapon at Cas.

“Whoa, whoa! It’s okay!” He rushed, lowering Mary’s arm. “Mom, this is Cas. Cas, this is…Mary.”

Cas’s brow furrowed. “Mary…your…mother?”

Dean nodded. “Yes. What happened here? Can you tell me?”

“Yes, and no. There was a blonde woman with a British accent. She blasted me away before [Y/N] and Sam entered the bunker.”

Dean rubbed his face with his hand. “We’re gonna find them.”


“No—No! I’ll do anything! Just—Just don’t touch her!” Sam demanded, pressing against his restraints. “Don’t.”

“How touching,” the blonde British bitch cooed condescendingly. “But I don’t think that’s quite fair, now is it? Besides…you have information we want, and if this is the only way to get it out of you, so be it.”

“It’ll be okay, Sam,” you said, unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

The other woman lit the blow torch, and you kept your gaze steady, eyes unmoving from Sam’s as you repeated the same mantra over and over in your head.

Don’t break…

Don’t break…

Don’t break…





Sam watched, livid, as you slumped over in the chair, blacking out from the pain.

“Weak one, she is,” the woman smirked, backing away from you, raising an eye brow challengingly at Sam.

He glared at her, practically baring his teeth in a growl.

“We’ll be back when she wakes up,” The blonde one said, disappearing up the stairs with the brunette one.

Sam looked over at you, at the burns on your feet, the burns on the palms of your hands. There was a bruise forming under your left eye, from when the brunette slugged you, trying to keep you awake for the torture.

True to their word, not five minutes after you woke up, they were tramping down the stairs before Sam even got to say one word to you.

“You wanna speak today? Or should we resort to…other tactics?” The Blonde asked, smirking.

Sam glared heatedly at them. “Screw. You,” he growled, fists clenching in his cuffs

“Toni, you handle the girl. I have Sam.”

By the time they were done, you wished you had passed out from the pain.

You were bleeding from your collarbone, your jaw, chest, stomach, arms, thighs…

You were exhausted.

Your head was lolled forwards, you were panting, wincing from the effort.

“Still not gonna talk, huh? Well, I’ll give it to you…thought you’d be easier to break to be quite honest,” the Brunette, standing and wiping the bloody blade off on your shirt.

Sam’s fists were clenched as he watched the Brunette walk out of the room, the Blonde close behind, smirking.

Sam’s nose was bleeding from when the Blonde slugged him across the face for yelling at them both for hurting his baby sister. He was bleeding from a large cut on his collarbone as well, as well as large cuts on his thighs.

“It’ll be okay, [Y/N],” Sam panted, his gaze intense. “We’ll get out of this. Cas will find us. Chuck, maybe. Hell, maybe even Crowley!”

“That’s u-unlikely,” you stuttered, wishing you could wipe the blood dripping from your lip away. “Crowley help us?”

He cracked a weak grin.


Sam woke up laying on the cold floor, his neck sore.

He pushed himself up, and immediately brought his hand up to his neck, feeling where the British woman had injected him with something.

“[Y/N]? [Y/N]?!” He looked around, and saw you slumped over on the ground. There was a large welt on your forehead, presumably from where you were knocked out, and he pressed two fingers to your neck, checking your pulse. It was slightly slow, but strong. There was a small pinprick hole in your neck, as well. Probably the same injection they gave him.

He sat back, looking up at the staircase that led out of the cellar. Jessica appeared, and he gasped, clambering to his feet.


She disappeared, and in her place appeared Lucifer, in his Nick vessel.

On the floor, your eyes blearily blinked open, gasping and coughing. You pushed off the floor, finding the breath you were searching for, eyes scanning over the room. They landed on Sam, who was panicking and backing away from something only he could see.

You weakly clambered to your feet, leaning on one of the beams protruding from the ceiling. “Sammy?”

He didn’t seem to hear you.

A dizzy spell washed over you, and you fell to your knees, clutching your head. “Wha…”

You picked your head up, eyes widening as you saw your father standing there. He vanished, and Lucifer appeared.

“Miss me?” He cackled. “You were a fun vessel, for the three days you lasted.”

Your hands dropped to the door as old, repressed memories bubbled to the surface.


Dean burst through the door, gun raised with Sam right behind him.


You were standing motionless in front of the window, staring out at the empty street below. You turned around, and both Sam and Dean knew right away something was off.

“You’re not [Y/N], are you?” Sam demanded, jaw twitching.

A strange grin stretched across your face, ugly and hard on your usually gentle face.

“Sorry, boys. [Y/N]’s a little…held up at the moment.”

Sam and Dean’s face went whiter than a sheet.


“Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!”

“Get the hell out of her you son of a bitch!”

Lucifer smirked. “No, no. Can’t do that. You see, she and I made a deal. I use her as a vessel, I don’t hound you to do it anymore. I break that deal…and well,” he chuckled, shrugging. “She won’t make it after I vacate the premises.”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean barked.

“Sorry boys, but that’s just how the cookie crumbles!”


Sam watched the soft face of his sister deteriorate under the power of Lucifer, the skin fading, peeling away, stretching over her bones.

He could see the torture in her eyes.

He snapped out of his hallucinations, and saw you curled up on the floor, tears dripping from your cheeks to the cement floor.

Sam’s had enough.

He stumbled forward towards a mirror, smashing his fist into it. He grabbed a large shard of it, and squeezed it hard, making tonsure to draw plenty of blood, before pretending to draw it across his neck. He fell to the floor and laid still.

Moments later, he heard the door open, and the hurried click of shoes coming down the stairs.

Now. Now’s his chance.

He knocked her down and ran to you, lifting you up in his arms and darting to the stairs.

The Blonde grabbed hold of him and pulled him backwards as he was halfway up the staircase, sending you flying from his arms and down the steps, your head cracking off the cement floor.


The Blonde wrestled free of him, and made it out the door, swiftly locking it behind her.

Sam stumbled down the steps to your prone form, rolling you over onto your back.

A pool of blood surrounded your head like a red halo.

“[Y/N]?” He whimpered. He shakily pressed two of his large fingers to the pulse point on your neck, a heart wrenching son twisting its way from inside him. “No!”

He lifted you up and pulled you into his arms, sobbing into your hair as he rocked back and forth. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

First Dean, and now, you.

He wrapped his arms tighter around your empty body, wanting to never to have to let go of you.

He fell asleep clutching you.


Dean was pulled into the doorway, hands cuffed in front of him.

“Dean!” Sam gasped, from where he was cuffed to a chair.

“Sam!” He grunted as the Blonde shoved him down the stairs, leading him to shackles where she chained him, standing up.

“Sammy? Where’s [Y/N]?” Dean asked, ignoring the British bitch.

He saw Sam’s jaw twitch, and his eyes well with tears. “Sammy?”

Dean’s gaze moved from Sam, what he could see behind his brother at this angle. A white sheet, draped neatly over a still form. A small, still form.

“No…” Dean breathed, heart breaking painfully in his chest. Not his sister…not his baby sister…

“Yes, an unfortunate accident, that was,” the Blonde chirped, moving to stand in front of the brothers.

“You bitch!” Dean roared. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you!”

The Blonde stepped closer to him, about to reciprocate, only to be interrupted before doing so.

“Get away from my kids.”

The Blonde turned to see Mary Winchester.

After Mary almost dying (again), Dean knocked the Blonde out with a single, hard punch to the jaw. A man appeared in the doorway at the top of the stairs, Cas beside him. Mary, Sam, and Dean all stood side-by-side at the bottom of the stairs.

The Blonde clambered to her feet, wiping her bloody nose and moving to stand beside the man.

“I am deeply sorry about this,” the man said, not seeing all that sorry about it. “Especially about your sister—”

“What about [Y/N]?” Mary interrupted, brow furrowed. “Where is she? Where is my daughter?”

The man gave a small, shaky point to the side of the room.

Mary looked around her sons, eyes landing on the white sheet. “No…” she breathed, moving towards it. She fell to her knees beside your body, and peeled the sheet back from your face.

It was bruised, and cut, and bloody, she could make out tear tracks where the tears washed the blood and grime away. She felt her heart break into a million pieces.

“What…did you do to my baby?” She asked, voice low, raspy.

“It…it was an…accident…” the Blonde said, not so confident now that she was in the company of both her superiors and the mother of the young girl she had beaten and caused the death of.

Mary stood, and in the blink of an eye, the Blonde had a bullet hole right in the center of her forehead.

“Leave,” Dean growled at the man, turning away and moving towards Mary and you. Mary had fallen back down to her knees beside your body.

Dean crouched down beside her, Sam standing a bit behind them, tears streaming down his face. Dean’s face screwed up, and a sob escaped him, wracking his whole body.

He sucked in a deep breath, leaning into his mother’s touch as she rubbed his shoulder, tears of her own streaming down her face.

Sam looked over at Cas, who was standing motionlessly by the bottom of the stairs, staring blankly at your prone form.

“Cas? Can you fix her?” Sam asked, stepping towards him.

Cas’ gaze flashed to Sam. “Can you fix her?” Sam repeated.

The angel looked back at you, mouth opening and closing, searching for an answer. Dean and Mary looked up quickly, expectantly. “I…I can try…”

He moved towards you and knelt down beside you, hand shakily moving to your forehead, index and middle finger pressing into your cold skin.

It was deathly silent for a long moment, as the Winchesters waited with baited breath.

After several moments, Cas pulled his hand away and he sat back, head hanging. “She…she is too broken…too far gone…”

Dean carried his baby sister’s body out of the Men of Letters’ farmhouse, his mother and little brother on either side of him.

It was the first time Sam and Dean stood beside their mother at a funeral. At their sister’s funeral.

And she never even got to meet her mother.

Anyone whose goal is ‘something higher’ must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.
—  MIlan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being