human you are here would you like a pillow

The Faithful of the Underground

This fanfiction is set within the Undertale AU, The Caretaker of the Ruins. 

Chapter 1: Blind Patience Act 1

Chara stood over the bed. The child lay on it, sleeping, but not breathing. Chara breathing intesified. 

‘I cannot risk you recovering…’ Chara said, getting angrier by the second. They carefully stood beside the bed, and slowly brought one hand closer to the child’s neck.

‘So please….die.’

The hand came closer to the neck. And closer. 

This is it, Chara thought, this is it…..if I pull this off….if I do this….then-

But before they could finish their thought, one of the child’s hands suddenly shot up and caught Chara by the lower arm, taking them by surprise. The child sat up, and screamed, ‘MAMA!!’ 

Chara jumped back with a yelp. The child nearly fell over from the bed, shivering. They pulled back on to the bed, and stared ahead. Chara thought they were staring at them, but realized they were actually staring at the wall behind them. He looked closer.

The child, indeed, was looking at the wall behind them. 

Chara slowly stood up, observing the human. The child put a hand on their bed sheets, and then the other. A look of confusion came over their face. She looked around, saying, ‘Mama?’

Not sure what to do, our prince quickly made up their mind, and said, ‘Your mother isn’t here.’

The child looked at Chara’s direction, but not at Chara themself. They said, ‘What? But…where am I?’ 

Chara was quickly running out of ideas and time, and said, ‘That’s not important.’

The child again asked, ‘Where am I?’

‘I said…that’s not important. What is important… why are you looking at the wall? I’m here!’ Chara waved their hands while angrily saying this. Not only had their plan failed due to the human in front of them waking up, but they weren’t even looking at them. And it seemed like they were doing it on purpose. 

The child blinked, and looked around in their general direction. ‘Where?’ 

‘Right he-’

‘I can’t see you.’

Chara stopped. What?

‘What did you just say?’

‘I….can’t….see you.’ The panic in their voice grew, ‘I….I can’t see!’ They started fidgeting, but then slumped back on their pillow. Chara was flabbergasted. They were quick to collect their wits, though. 

So I have a blind human here…that was unexpected….but they’re not dead. They would matter more like that. 

Chara slowly made their way to the child, putting their hands up (Which was a useless thing to do, considering the scared kid was blind), saying soothingly, ‘Now, calm down, ok? Calm down…’

The child looked in their direction again, and said, in a panicked tone, ‘But…but…I can’t see….how do I know where you are?’

Chara moved closer. Their eyes were on the kid’s throat. If I can just…do it quickly….

‘Don’t worry….I’ll take good care of you….’ 

Chapter 1: End 

Caretaker of the Ruins belongs to @caretaker-au

This story belongs to me

You’re The Reason

A/N: It is currently 11:54 pm on a Sunday night and I have work in exactly 6 hours and 6 minutes. I started writing a Seb imagine but this just sorta came to me while I was in the shower. It’s going to be short but I like stuff like this so bare with me here. Thank you for reading! Update: This may or may not be a series. I’m not sure yet. Lemme know what you think:)

Warnings: Uhmmmmm, none I think. Slight angst?

Originally posted by you-didnt-see-that-cuming

It’s been 10 months since Bucky left. You didn’t know where he went or why he left, but it pained you every second of every day. 

You loved him more than anyone and after a year of being together, you were sure you were sure you were going to marry him. Unfortunately, one day after coming home from work he was gone. 

Now it was time to move on with your life. You were leaving Bucharest after seven years of over sea living, and you were moving back to America. As you packed away each room, you continued to find things that reminded you of Bucky, causing a tear to slip from your eye. 

His sweater fell from the top of the closet, his scent still masking the fabric and you felt you were being punished for thinking about him. You slipped the sweater over your head, inhaling the lovely smell and wiping your tears. 

You knew he was involved in things, he never told you because he didn’t want you hurt. “If you knew anything, I don’t know what they’d do to you, Darlin’.”

You were sure he didn’t want to leave, but he had that back pack always ready. He disappeared without a trace. 

As you packed away the closet in your room, you noticed an envelope slip from between boxes of shoes. 

Curious, you turned it over and your name was written in big letters. 

“Oh my god…” 

All your emotions began to bubble up. It was Bucky’s handwriting. 

You took a deep breath and opened the letter. 

Hey Dollface,

By now I’m long gone. Hopefully you won’t find this any sooner, but I want you to find it soon enough. 

I’ve done some bad things. 

I’ve killed people- no, I didn’t. I was forced to. Tortured. You always wanted to know how I got my arm, and this is why. The people who made me kill gave me this arm so I could be unstoppable. 

It was some sort of mind control, I’m still trying to understand how they did it.

I wasn’t in the right state of mind and deep down I didn’t want to be doing these things. I have difficulty remembering who I was before all of this, but you helped me become who I think I used to be. 

You’ve done so much for me, and I don’t know how I could ever repay you. 

It saddens me that it has to end like this. I never got to tell you how I really feel. 

You kept me human, instead of this shell of a man that was left after I escaped. 

I’ll miss everything about you. Including the way your hair would spread across the pillow at night, and how you so easily molded to my body. You’re perfect for me, and I don’t want this over at all. I wish I could stay here- with you- forever. I feel so at home with you, you are my home. 

Do you remember when you made me try Sarmale for the first time? I still have the video of you laughing at my reaction, and it’s something I will keep with me forever. 

You will never leave my heart, (Y/N). 

Somehow, we’ll meet again. Whether it be in the distant future, or in another life, we will be together again. 

Promise me you will keep yourself safe, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. 

I want you to move on, enjoy life and live it to the fullest like you’ve always dreamed of. I don’t want you holding back on doing things you love because I’m gone. 

Move back to America, go deep sea diving, start up painting. Create beautiful things. One day I’d love to see your paintings in a museum.

I love you, Darlin’. So much. I’m so sorry.


A sob fell from your mouth while your tears wet the paper. Everything about this letter answered most of your questions, and you couldn’t help but feel like you needed more answers. 

Had he forgotten you? Did whoever was after him capture him again? 

Fear ran up your spine and you swallowed back another sob. 

You had to find him. 

Without thinking, you began filling up boxes. You didn’t know where to start or how to do it, but you were going to find Bucky Barnes. The man you love is in danger, and you didn’t want him to be anymore. 

You picked up the picture frame on your nightstand, staring at Bucky’s bright and smiling features. “I’ll find you…” You whispered, turning the picture over and hastily packing your belongings.

jerseydevious  asked:

i trust you to do something fun with #15

So, this gave me a chance to do some Bruce & Alfred angsty-ish hurt/comfort instead of just whining at you that there isn’t enough of it for me to read. I sort of cheated a little with the prompt and I hope you don’t mind.


The sun was coming up by the time Bruce limped into the gallery and stopped by a white marble sculpture, streaked with faint veins of gray. Being on his feet was agony to the sutures across his lower ribs, the mangled lacerations bandaged over his legs.

But here, surrounded by things his mother had collected and loved and admired, he at least wouldn’t irritate wounds by throwing things. Memories stayed him where his temper might fail.

Thirty more seconds was all he had in him and as the edges of his vision went black he sank to the floor and leaned against the pillar the statue sat on. He just barely kept himself conscious, and the throbbing radiating from a half dozen points on his scarred body was preferable to sleeping quite yet.

Closing his eyes would mean seeing it again. Three lives, gone just like that, and one of them a good detective. Some days it was easy to believe Gotham was getting better, but nights like this one— mornings, he supposed— made it clear that if anything, the entire time he’d spent in the cowl was only to watch it decay further.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you know of any NYC themed rooms? I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IT!

Hi :)

There are a few things you can get for an NYC themed room:

1. Learn to do a DIY masking tape skyline like below from here.

2. Get a large NYC artwork/wallpaper to be a main focus in your room. Find some here and here.

3. Add NYC bedding/pillows. Buy some here.

4. You can buy NYC street-name decor with your name printed on it from here.

5. If you have a bookshelf fill it with some NYC themed books e.g. the Humans of New York book which you can buy here.

6. Lastly some industrial lighting is a must! It reminds me of NYC studio apartments and would look really cool in a bedroom. Buy here 30% off.

Hope that helped! xo

Awkward Angel

Original request:

I was wondering if I can ask for a one shot where the reader gets tortured in front of Dean and Sam and almost dies but Cas manages to save them in time and there is a lot of fluff with Cas and the reader.


I do hope you enjoy it still! Thank you for requesting and I truly appreciate you reading!

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

“Where is Castiel?!”

The angel clad in stereotypical business attire barked. Dean and Sam say across the way from you watching in pure rage and terror as the Angel took his time torturing you.   You raised your head slowly, spit out blood and smiled.


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

On the off chance that youre taking requests, can you write Spock comforting Jim? OMS would be nice as well :)

written from Spock’s POV, right before the fateful mission happens in TWOK

The warm smile fades. “Where are you off to now?” you ask, with A Tale of Two Cities held to your chest.

“The Enterprise.” I incline my chin. “I must check in before your inspection.” One day remains before I will invite you on the ship that was our home for many years. Everything must be perfect. “And you?”

You exhale. Your eyes soften.

Your mouth twitches and your gaze falls from mine.

A small huff. “Home.”

The word, though spoken quietly, sounds like a curse. When you turn and walk off, I close my eyes.


You will not tell me. I know this much. But even when you say nothing, I hear you. Your silence is a shout that speaks louder than your lips ever could.

It echoes.

A vase filled with roses sits upon a mahogany table for two—our table, beside the kitchen. Another red petal falls on the runner to join the others that served as your company on the mornings and evenings of this week. Did you speak to them of your day? Did you tell them of your latest altercation with Admiral Nogura? Did you place a cup of tea before them and hope they would drink?

There is a Terran proverb that prompts these inquiries. Old habits die hard.

“Computer, spiced tea,” you say to the synthesizer, while I sit in the quiet of our condominium…a space I have not inhabited for seven Earth days.

The oldest petals that fell to the table have dried out. These roses were not for you. I know this.

“Here.” The scent of jasmine, orange, and cloves arrives before you even place the cup down. A half-smile pulls at your mouth and then you inhale, quickly look up and over to the large windows. The night is young, somewhere. “I think I’ll…” You purse your lips. “I’ll go sit outside.” …for a cigar and scotch on the balcony, you do not add.

I nod and remain seated, watching as you drift to the small bar—as your hand falls on the bottle of Romulan Ale Doctor McCoy presented to you earlier. You pause in contemplation before your fingers slip to a more familiar choice next to it: Glenfiddich, aged over decades. Two ice cubes are dropped in a glass, and leather-hued liquid spills over them. You pick up your new pair of glasses, your drink, and A Tale of Two Cities. Then, you leave without a word.

Keep reading

Fairest Of Them All  ▏Bobby

►I got around to read Romeo and Juliet over again for the umpteenth time, and this scenario sort of played in my head as I read the balcony scene, and I thought I’d make it into an actual lil scenario with Bobby. Hope it’s coool :)

           It had to be close to midnight bynow.

           The party had started when the sunwas still hanging in the sky, and now it was so dark you could barelydistinguish the outlines of your feet when you looked down and took careful steps across the rooftop. Even from up there, the booming music from inside was picked up by your ears, as well as the shouting from the many teenagers in the house.

           This wasn’t particularly your “scene”, and you couldn’t lie to yourself and say otherwise, but a couple days ago the idea of coming to this party and trying to have a good time sounded interesting to you.

           But you grew tired of the dancing, and the yelling, and the house full of rowdy teenagers who shared no interests with you. So instead, you stepped out of the house and somehow made your way onto the rooftop, where you were able to find the perfect spot to sit and look up at the night sky.

           This was better than any party, for sure.

Keep reading

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The miniscule sound called into Castiel’s ear. His mouth turned down into a scowl at its consistency. It was like a pestering fly buzzing by his ear and his hand instinctively swatted at it, hoping it would go away. He soon regretted the movement as a white hot pain shot through his arm. He instantly shot up from his place on the bed, his eyes popped open franticly.

His vision blurred, and all he could see was various shades of neutral color, mostly white and grey. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. His temples throbbed madly with an awful headache, the pain felt like his head was about to split in two.

An ear-splitting ring sounded from beside him and he blindly reached toward the sound, feeling a small rectangular object press into his palm he brought it towards him. He squinted down at what he realized was his cell phone, a hand-me-down from Dean and Sam’s old collection, and your name appeared to flash on the screen. He sighed in relief and pressed accept.

“Cas! Where the hell have you been!?” You shrieked, causing the angel to quickly push the phone away from his ear. “Me, Dean, and Sam have been worried sick! We saw the angels fall and you weren’t picking up and I–”

“I’m fine, Y/N.” Castiel interjected, hoping that the comment would ease you, but he didn’t sound too convincing. His eyes closed as he tried to control the emotions bubbling up inside him. Upon hearing about his fallen brothers and sisters, he finally realized where he was. The hospital. He could vaguely remember the feel of a car’s heavy bumper pummeling his body off the road. The trip to the hospital came in flashes.

A pair of men in blue uniform strapped him to a gurney. A mask was placed upon his face, making his breathing easier on his lungs. Then, rows and rows of lights flashed above him, and masked faces wearing white and teal clothing. As soon as they shoved a needle into the crease of his arm, there was only blackness.

Castiel’s breathing becomes ragged and labored. Moisture trickled down his cheek and he wiped at it, marveling in its texture. He…he was crying, he realized.

“C-Cas?” Your voice softly buzzed on the other end, concern slipping into your once frantic tone. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, his aching ribs protested against the action, but he pushed the pain aside. “Y/N. I have to tell you something…and I don’t know…I don’t want you to be…” He struggled to find words, anything to make what he had to say easier to bear.

“Castiel.” You sighed deeply. “It’s alright. I’m here. I’m listening. Just tell me where you are.”

“I-I’m at the hospital.” He clutched his cell tighter in his grasp, his nerves getting the best of him.

There is a long pause before you spoke again. “And why would you be at the hospital?” You asked.

“Because I was hit by a car.” He answered quickly. His blue eyes took solace in staring at the heart monitor that awoke him earlier. He watched as the green line bounced with every beat of his heart, steady, and rhythmic. He was in pain, he was aching, and caused by Metatron’s hand, he was human. And the thought truly frightened him.

Because of the endless questions about his future plaguing his mind, Castiel almost forgot that you were on the other end of the line. “…Y/N? Are you still there?” He swallowed thickly.

“Yes, I’m still here.” You replied, however your voice was short and clipped. “I don’t understand… I mean, obviously I’m furious that some douchebag just ran you over like a pile of train tracks, but…you’re an angel, Cas.” Castiel flinched at your use of the term. “Why would you be at a hospital if you can just heal yourself?”

He let his head fall back onto the pillows underneath him and stared at the ceiling before responding with a clenched jaw, “Because, I’m not an angel anymore. I’m human.”