#sowildsobohemian

[actually-my-name-is-samandriel]

It had been about two years since Samandriel had helped Ilse to take revenge on her sexually abusive father. He hadn’t seen her since then. He thought about her from time to time and he hoped she was okay, but he hadn’t had much time to think about her lately. A lot had happened to him since then. He’d been brainwashed, used, betrayed, tortured, and nearly executed. He’d also lost his brother Castiel. The other angel had saved his life and as punishment, Naomi had murdered him. 

He’d been angry since. He was a bit of a mess. He didn’t understand why any of this had happened to him and he was frustrated. It was then, while he was still picking himself up and putting himself back together when he and Ilse crossed paths again.  

@sowild-sobohemian​

[actually-my-name-is-samandriel]

//Back home, but no wifi at my house, so drafts will be longer than expected. Sorry everyone.

[winterwalkingafterastorm-blog1]

"For God's sake, Wendla, no! Papa beats me enough as it is"

Martha looked down at her feet. “I shouldn’t have said anything. But they were all laughing ... And all I could think was how I wouldn’t be able to laugh for weeks, if papa got mad at me over cutting my hair. It would be bad, and I knew Wendla wouldn’t really do it, but just the thought -- I got scared, and I just said it without thinking.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. What could they do? Telling them only hurt them -- poor Wendla hasn’t been the same since. It’s all my fault, and it’s not like they could do anything.”

[actually-my-name-is-samandriel]

"I went to the doctor.. and... well.. I don't know how to say this.."

Samandriel furrowed his brow, looking at Ilse with concern, “Don’t know how to say what?” he asked worriedly. 

[callingthroughlonging-blog]

sowild-sobohemian

                   He supposed it couldn't really be called                         his secret place -- it wasn't hidden.                         Anyone  could  stumble  upon  him,                         but  few  did,  so  he  felt  safe  here.                         He could read, or write, or talk aloud                         about things that no one else dared.                         But,  today,  he  was  content  simply                         leaning on the log, staring at the sky                         and   letting   his   mind    w a n d e r.

                   At the sound of approaching footsteps,                         he sat up, reaching out for the book                         he had been reading earlier. Faust.                         An adult might take it away from him,                         so he quickly tucked it behind his back.                         But it wasn't an adult who appeared.                         It was a  child,  and a familiar one,                         Even if he hadn't seen her recently.

                                                                              "Ilse Neumann?                                                                                 Is that you?"

[moritzxstiefel-blog]

((I have Ghost!Moritz freaking out being invisible listening to all of this and I blame you two))

[justxwatchme]

"I will not be the girl who requires a man to get by."

"I-" he began, but shut his mouth. Melchior stared at her for a second, but then an apologetic smile pulled at his lips. "I didn't say that."

[justxwatchme]

"All will be forgiven."

With a sigh Melchior plucked at the grass between his fingers. She meant well, of course, and he should be grateful for that. He lifted his head to look at her, even smile at her. But it was a weak, thin smile. The one people give when they wished they could actually smile.

”..If only that were true. But I don’t think so, Ilse. Not this time.”