#a non gruesome murder like a poisoning

[iamonlyhereforthefreefood]

I actually kinda want to get picked for a jury now but only if it’s for something cool

[myosotisa]

Half Life - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader, Jim Hopper & Reader

‖  summary: Four known responses to panic - flight, fight, fawn, and freeze. You used to alternate between three depending on what the situation called for. Now that Eddie is back and in danger again, it feels like all you're capable of doing anymore is fighting.

‖  tags: hurt/comfort, heavy angst with a happy ending. post season 4 vol 2 (eddie lives). hospital setting but no graphic descriptions of anything medical, grief, unresolved trauma, PTSD responses. violence (street fight), mentions of blood, broken knuckles. a single gunshot (aimed at the sky). shithead town of Hawkins meet traumatized young adults. ACAB!!!!!!! Hopper helps (platonically). no y/n, no pronouns, reader is referred to as a bitch, princess, angel, and an attack dog. this came to me in a vision and i spat out line after line like a prophet.

‖  word count: 2.8k

Since the moment Eddie was extracted from the Upside Down, you have been hovering. Non-stop, constantly vigilant of where he was and who was with him.

You were already just a heap of exposed nerves after everything the group had been through and, after thinking you’d lost him, you were not about to lose him again.

When he was in the hospital, handcuffed to his bed even though he couldn’t have gone anywhere even if he wanted to, you stayed. Days you stayed. Wayne and Steve and Nancy would come by, begging you to leave just for a few hours, but you couldn’t. If you weren’t watching him, he might be gone again. As long as you were there, as long as you could hold his hand and wipe the sweat off his brow, then he was okay. He was alive.

One time Steve tried to forcibly remove you, thinking he was helping, and you’d lashed out at him like a feral animal. Kicked and scratched until he let you go. You’d immediately apologized profusely, begged for his forgiveness as you helped him clean the scratches. He forgave you so easily, more than you deserved, and just explained he didn’t want to lose you too.

After that, you allowed yourself to sleep in one of the chairs in the hospital room as long as someone else was there. If Steve, or Nancy, or Wayne, or Jonathan, or Hopper, or Joyce was watching over him, you could sleep.

At least, until the nightmares came back.

When he woke up for the first time, you were there. Happy tears springing to your eyes and hands hovering all over him as he sleepily blinked his eyes open and tried to reach for your hand. You met him halfway, squeezing hard to let him know you were there – he was alive. And left to go call Wayne with the good news.

It was one of the only times you had left. At all.

When you came in with a relieved smile, ready to tell him Wayne was coming, there was a police officer standing beside the bed, bent over toward him. Eddie looked even paler than he had when you left, trying to put on a brave face despite the way his speech was still slurred and it seemed like he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Hey!” Your voice was sharp, silver tipped as you marched forward, smile gone and scowl in place. The officer shifted slightly toward you as he turned, giving you just enough space to force yourself between him and Eddie. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Ma’am,” he said, condescension dripping from his mouth like poison, looking down his nose at you. “Mr. Munson is the main suspect in a series of gruesome murders and remains an extremely dangerous individual. I suggest you back away.”

His teeth clenched, an internal war going on behind his eyes. You took another step forward, eyes narrowing into a glare as you spit in his face, “Now get the fuck out of here before I call the sheriff and you lose your shiny little badge.”

The animal came back, lips turning up in a snarl as you took a menacing step closer. He must’ve sensed the danger because he took a step back on instinct. “I suggest you get some fucking proof and a goddamn warrant before you come back here and threaten a man who woke up from a coma 30 minutes ago.”

This seems to amuse him, a huff of air coming out of his nose. “On what grounds?”

Your snarl turns sharp, mouth turning up like you’re so glad that he asked. “When I tell him you did this to me.”

Lifting the sleeve of your shirt, you showed him the heavy bruising of a handprint there, leftover wounds from battles that were healing too slowly. He faltered slightly, eyes moving from the bruising to your wild look. “I didn’t do that, you can’t pin that on me.”

“Oh yeah?” You took another step forward, he took another step back. “And who will they believe Officer Courtney? You? Or me?”

“Are you okay?” Your hand came up to his jaw, panicked eyes searching his tired face.

The sudden dose of fear he showed soothed the animal as he muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like ‘psycho bitch’ before turning on his heel and walking away. You watched him go until he disappeared before you turned toward Eddie, looking him over for new wounds.

Eddie’s head shifted slightly in a nod, eyes drifting closed again as he almost nuzzled into your hand. “Yeah, Angel. I’m okay.”

“I’d burn this whole fucking town to the ground before I let anyone hurt you again.”

That night, when the floor was almost silent, the only light being the one above his hospital bed, he held your hand and tearfully explained that he was afraid. He was confused, on heavy painkillers, handcuffed, vulnerable. Someone from the town would try to kill him, mess up his dosing on purpose, smother him with a pillow, anything they could if they got their hands on him.

“As long as they think I did those things, they will never leave me alone.”

The paranoia got worse. Eddie still slept the majority of the days, only having a handful of waking hours, and you watched. It was back to the beginning – you didn’t sleep, you barely ate, you were terrified to even leave just to go to the bathroom.

I’d stepped away for just a few minutes to make a call and they could’ve taken him from me.

Wayne begged you just to sleep, to eat, to take a shower, to do something other than sit in that chair beside his bed and glare at anyone new who even tried to get close to him. You couldn’t – you couldn’t do it – couldn’t leave him.

By sheer luck, the next time someone from the sheriff’s office came by to question Eddie, Hopper was with you.

He had never once tried to force you to do anything. Hadn’t asked you to leave or sleep. When he came to visit, all he did was bring a bunch of food (with hopes you might eat it), sit down beside you, and watch. Sometimes the two of you talked, sometimes you didn’t. You knew very little about what happened to him in Russia. He didn’t want to talk about it. That was fine with you.

Hopper was the only one who made you feel like maybe your shoulders weren’t made of stone. Maybe you didn’t have to keep your teeth razor sharp and primed to kill. Maybe you could eat some food, take a nap in your chair.

When the officers walked in, you were already gearing to jump to your feet, snapping jaws at the ready, but a heavy hand hit your forearm. Wait, it told you. Hold your fire.

“Gentlemen,” the pair of officers straightened up. His tone still held authority and they had been on the force long enough to still know who he is. Who he was. “What can we do for you?”

“We have some questions for Mr. Munson related to the murders.”

As if sensing even the smallest twitch of your muscles, or maybe it was just instinct from one predator to another, his palm pressed harder. Wait. 

“As you can see, he’s resting right now and it would be against his doctor’s orders to wake him.” His voice was lethal calm. Where you were fire, fight, and flame, Hopper was cold, silent, and deadly. Russian snow and prison cruelty sunken into his very bones.

“It will only be a few minutes,” one of them assured, almost mockingly, like they didn’t give a damn what his doctor had to say. “And if he is innocent, then he should have nothing to hide.”

There was a little bit more back and forth but both officer’s departed, leaving Eddie peacefully asleep in his bed, tattooed arm draped over his stomach. When Hopper removed his hand, it had you crumbling. Breaking down, shuttering, and collapsing inward. Strong arms, stable arms, deadly arms, wrapped around your shoulders as you started to cry. Started to sob your broken heart out.

You inhaled sharply through your teeth as the officer's eyes flicked to you almost nervously. Munson’s attack dog, they’d called you when they thought no one could hear. Attack dog was right. You were looking for any excuse to tear their fucking throats out with your teeth.

Hopper’s fingertips pressed in harder. Wait, they instructed again through touch alone. “Innocent until proven guilty, isn’t that the ol’ saying boys?” His mouth turned up in a dry smile as theirs turned to frowns. He was an enemy now, against them. But while Eddie was wounded and you were an arrest waiting to be made if you so much as touched them – Hopper was impenetrable. Untouchable. An American hero brought back to life. There was nothing they could do to him.

You hadn’t broken down like this since they pulled him out.

Hopper just held your head to his shoulder, let you soak his t-shirt in tears, held you as you cried, and cried, and cried. Thank you’s poured from your gasping lungs, endless and slurring as you fisting your fingers in him. Thank you for being alive, thank you for being here, thank you for protecting him, thank you for stopping me.

From that day forward, you would allow yourself to leave the hospital if you knew Hopper was going to be there.

You slept in a bed for the first time in who knows how long. Changed into real clothes. Ate a home cooked meal that Joyce brought to you. You still ended up at the hospital every day, but when Hopper was there, you could find just a little bit of peace. He would keep Eddie safe. You knew that without a doubt.

Wayne could be pushed over with enough force, the other members of the group were still barely adults and had little room to fight, but Hopper (and probably Joyce) were just as determined as you.

You will get to this man over my dead body.

A late night with Hopper had you talking. Well after midnight, just the two of you, unable or unwilling to sleep, the two of you talked more than you had over any of the other days. “Didn’t you dislike Eddie? He was a drug dealer, constantly in and out of trouble.” You’d asked him, fingers running through the ends of the subject’s curly hair as he slept.

“Dislike? No. He fucked up a lot. Maybe more than some other kids. But… He’s not a bad guy. I had my moments where I thought he might be, but when the kids explained everything he’d done for them… A bad guy doesn’t do shit like that for his friends.”

And it almost looked like he was going to smile.

The day they okay’d Eddie’s release to Wayne’s custody – on the grounds he didn’t leave the trailer unless he was requested to by the sheriff – you, Steve, Nancy, and Hopper were all there. Hopper hung back, chain smoking by Wayne’s truck as the rest of you helped Eddie get discharged and into a wheelchair to get to the truck.

You were barely a few feet out the door when a group began to approach. Basketball players – the remaining members of Jason’s hit squad and two others. “Hey!” One of them called as they walked up, like they’d been told when he was going to be discharged. “We’ve got a bone to pick with you, Munson.”

You and Steve stepped out, putting yourself between the group of four and the others, while Nancy assisted Wayne in pushing a drugged out Eddie towards the car faster. “You don’t wanna do this, Josh.” Steve started, ever the diplomat.

“Oh yeah, Harrington?” He snarked back, hand twisting at the baseball bat he had resting on his shoulder. “And why’s that?”

“He’s innocent, man,” Josh and Andy rolled their eyes, elbowing the others like ‘get a load of this guy’. “He didn’t kill Chrissy, or Patrick, or Jason. Or anyone.”

“Just get out of the way, has-been,” Andy barked, taking a few steps closer. “Don’t make us beat you down too, like that picture taking loser who stole your girlfriend.”

Steve’s jaw clenched as he held his ground. Andy took a few steps closer, the others on his tail, and you stepped up. He laughed, looking you up and down as they slowed their approach. “And who are you, princess? Another one of Munson’s followers?”

He laughed again, waving you out of his way like a fly. “That’s cute, now get the fuck out of the way before you get hurt.”

“You don’t need to know who I am,” your voice was white hot fire, inhuman to your own ears as you spoke. One of the guys hesitated when you locked eyes with him. Weak link. “The only thing you need to know is that you should turn around if you want to leave here with your balls still intact.”

Andy was bigger than you, stronger than you, but he was on the ground before any of them could process you were on the move. Your fist swung, knuckles cracking against his jaw as he groaned. A pair of hands grabbed you from behind, pulling you off of him. An arm came around your shoulders and you bit hard. Pennies hitting your tongue as the hold faltered, falling completely when you stamped your heel back on their foot.

The animal lunged.

Before they could recover, you took one step forward and swung your boot into the space between Andy’s legs, showing absolutely no mercy in the act. He screamed out in a high pitch, immediately curling into a ball on the concrete below you.

Hands grabbed at you again, arms hooking through yours and pinning them down. You kicked out, throwing your legs forward and back while you struggled as hard as you physically could to break the hold. Ahead of you, Steve had Josh pinned to the floor, blood on his knuckles, but then Josh had them flipped, his own fist coming down instead. Steve needed your help, Eddie needed your help, the guys behind were struggling to hold you, losing their grip. You thrashed harder, nearly dislocating your own shoulder as you fought against them, dragging you further away from Steve who was trying to get the upper hand again.

They need you, they need you, they need you–

A gunshot rang out and everyone froze.

Hopper stood a few feet away, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a pistol aimed high in the air. “Now how about everyone calm down for a few minutes, ‘kay?”

The hands dropped you unexpectedly, sending you to your knees. The animal was ready to jump, to go, to fight but was frozen by blue eyes pinning you to the ground. Wait, they told you in a heavy gaze. Hold your fire.

Another set of harsh words from Hopper had the boys retreating, licking their wounds and helping Andy to his feet before they all piled into a station wagon and peeled out of the parking lot. Steve ran the back of his hand over his split lip and you spit someone else’s blood out onto the concrete as you slowly got to your feet. You approached Hopper, preparing for a different kind of fight – for a scolding, for disapproval.

His face was emotionless until you were right in front of him. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it to the ground, crushing it under his boot. The gun was gone again, probably into some concealed holster. He held out his hand and you looked at it confused until he grabbed at your arm and brought your own hand up to his eyes.

“Broke two knuckles,” he informed you, thumb pressing to the bones as you hissed out through your teeth. He let your hand drop and tucked his own into his pockets. “Gotta learn how to throw a punch properly.”

And then he turned to walk back toward the car. Not another word between you.

Steve clapped you on the back, bringing you back to reality as he murmured something about the fight. He trailed you over to Wayne’s truck that sat running by the hospital sidewalk. You ripped open the back door, stepping up on the rail as Eddie twisted toward you, a dopey smile on his face.

“Hey Angel,” he said, syrupy sweet and reaching out, “Are you okay?”

You had two broken knuckles and your mouth tasted like blood. There was a wild animal loose in you that you could barely control. You had half a mind to go after all of those fucking cowards and hunt them down. There was so much rage and fear and pain and it felt like it was choking you.

A strong hand gripped your shoulder from behind, fingertips digging in. Hold your fire.

You smiled at him as tears sprung to your eyes, taking his hand in your unhurt one and intertwining your fingers. “I’m okay, Eds. Everything will be okay.”

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thanks for reading!! please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day <3

[dragonflylady77]

I posted 6,107 times in 2022

*whispers* I've been here since July...

That's 6,100 more posts than 2021!

291 posts created (5%)

5,816 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ariesbilly

@memes-saved-me

@prettyboybillyhargrove

@emeraldwitches

@billys-bitchh

I tagged 2,422 of my posts in 2022

#harringrove - 1,126 posts

#billy hargrove - 1,015 posts

#steve harrington - 591 posts

#billy x steve - 402 posts

#dacre montgomery - 206 posts

#stranger things - 131 posts

#billy deserved better - 130 posts

#always reblog awesome harringrove art❤️ - 97 posts

#how is this man real - 67 posts

#harringroveweek - 57 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#so steve volunteers to help look for the mom too and it’s the three of them walking around this store and steve’s seeing this whole new side

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Neil gets what’s coming to him / dies a gruesome death fics - (a non-exhaustive list)

*disclaimer: I have read some of them, but not all of them so don't come at me. If you want me to add any to this list, send me an ask or a DM

Updated 8 Dec 2022

In no particular order:

ain't no rest for the wicked by desperat

Burying Monsters by Sir_Howdy

you can't cheat death when you're digging your own grave by @grabmyboner

cut the shit (handle it) by @holl0w-city

Seven Foot Wave, Six Feet Under (steddilly) by @writer-in-theory

The following by @bentnotbroken1fanfiction

Steve Goes To Jail AU

Max can't take it anymore

When Push Comes To Shove

The following by @lucdarling

stings like she means it (fear street crossover feat dead!neil)

kinktober 2020, chapter 19, poison (crime fam au)

Rumor Has It

Serious (as a heart attack)

Forged in Blood

the following fics by @dastardlydandelion

praefoco

tot acerba funera or, the ABCs of Neil Hargrove's death

edited + expanded supplicium (prompted by @keziahrain)

periculum in mora

dolor sicut ratio (the axe fics before axecution)

blasphemia(caos crossover, feat smooches with lilith)

axecution series

micis

nex

the gay garbage disposal au

See the full post

165 notes - Posted August 24, 2022

#4

Found this on insta

**DISCLAIMER** I DO NOT KNOW WHEN THAT PHOTO WAS TAKEN

205 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

#3

Ficlet: Steve can't take it anymore

It's also on Ao3. Chapter 2 here

"I've been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone has been telling me so much about."

There's blood on Billy's lip and Steve wants to wipe it off with his thumb.

"Get out" He presses two fingers onto Billy's chest and gives a little shove. The skin is soft. And warm. So warm even though it's October and Billy's shirt is unbuttoned.

Billy stares, his tongue coming out to wipe his bottom lip, murder in his eyes.

Steve can't take it anymore. If the guy is gonna kill him, might as well give him a reason to. So Steve gives into the urge he's been fighting since he saw Billy in the carpark on that first day of school.

Before he can second guess himself, he grabs both sides of the collar of Billy's shirt, pulls him close and plants his lips on the other guy's mouth. He doesn't linger but it's enough to discover Billy's lips are soft, and warm, and Steve wishes things were different, wishes he could kiss Billy all the time, instead of fighting monsters from the Upside Down and babysitting a bunch of thirteen year olds.

He lets go and takes a step back, his eyes on Billy, his chest heaving. He can hear Dustin screaming something at him, and he's vaguely aware of Max saying something as well, but his entire focus is on Billy, and on readying himself for the inevitable beat down coming to him.

"What the fuck was that, Harrington?" Billy growls, his eyes searching Steve's face.

Steve doesn't answer because what could he say after doing that, but he does, for once, remember to plant his feet, bracing himself.

When Billy rushes him, he's ready. But what he's not ready for is Billy grabbing his jacket with both hands and shoving him backwards, his feet scrambling for purchase on Mrs Byers' shitty wooden floor, until his back is against the door.

Billy is so close that Steve can feel his body heat, Billy's fingers scrunching Steve's jacket, Billy's blue eyes almost black.

Steve takes in a shuddery breath, fighting against the need to bring his hands up to protect his face from Billy's fists. The kids keep screaming but the fists never come.

Instead, Billy slides his hands up and around Steve's neck and pulls his head down. Their lips meet again for a feverish kiss and the second he feels Billy's tongue, Steve opens his mouth with a relieved moan, as his hands grasp Billy's shirt again.

That's when Steve stops caring about the screams around him, and the impending apocalypse. How can he when the boy he's been crushing on for months is pressing his hard body against Steve, kissing the daylights out of him?

Billy’s trapping him against the door with his body, deepening the kiss, hands pulling Steve’s face closer. Steve knows they need to stop, need to talk, but he's wanted this for too long.

The screams around them eventually pierce the fog and the kiss ends. But Billy doesn't move away, he pulls back just enough so they can look at each other, his hands still cupping Steve’s face, both of them panting and trying to catch a breath.

“Been wanting to do this for a while, pretty boy?” Billy asks, his voice low and raspy, making Steve shudder. 

“You have no idea,” Steve whispers back, feeling the loss of heat when Billy’s hands drop from his face.

“You’d be surprised.” The reply comes with a throaty laugh that’s cut short when Billy glances to the side and Steve sees Billy’s jaw tighten, steel in his eyes. 

Steve turns his head to find Dustin and the other boys staring at them with their mouths open. Max is standing off to the side with an eyebrow raised and Steve has the fleeing thought that she looks just like her stepbrother in that instant. 

It’s the first time he’s ever seen Dustin speechless and he’d laugh if he didn’t suddenly remember the shit they’re up against and the urgency of it all. 

“Billy?”

And like that, the blue eyes he could lose himself in are back on him, with such focus Steve is finding it hard to breathe. Still, he gets the words out.

“So there’s some super serious shit going on that I don’t have time to explain right now, and I promise I will, but in the meantime, do you want to help smash monsters and save the world?”

225 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

#2

Me: kinda wants to get the ST tarot deck that comes out next week

Also me: knows it's probably either not have Billy in it or it will be a shit card

371 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

What if the Harringtons show up one day and Billy is in the kitchen in just sweatpants and making coffee and they have no idea who Billy is because they've been away so long and they're all, excuse me, who are you and why are you in our house, you need to leave this instant before I call the police. And Steve comes down the stairs, wrapped in a sheet, hickeys all over, and he's like, can you not call the cops on my husband thank you.

713 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[rotworld]

3: Salamander

The apprentices of Magister Hezethril seem to be dying of horrific accidents with suspicious frequency.

->contains gore, murder, non-consensual touching, yandere, threats, and extreme power imbalance (basically teacher/student).

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There’s a commotion in the hallway. A crowd of apprentices, swarming together in a sea of black cloaks, have gathered in the open doorway of the alchemy laboratory. But there’s no excitement among them, no jovial anticipation. They’re whispering and weeping, clinging to one another anxiously. Your heart skips a beat. It can’t be. Not again. You push your way through the crowd, refusing to believe it until you see it with your own eyes, ignoring the voices all around you.

“...looks like Bianca…”

“...the third this week…”

“...couldn’t have done this to herself…”

“Excuse me,” you mutter, shouldering past a pair of gawking boys. You’re hardly a step into the room when the stench hits you, sharp and unnatural, rust and ozone. Something pale green and foul-smelling is spilled across the stone floor, dripping from an upended cauldron, but what’s worse is the blood. You can follow a trail of pain and slow suffering; a bloody handprint on the glass case in the back of the room. A smear across the table. A spattered drag across the floor, all the way to the lifeless body of an apprentice, her hands frozen in rigor mortis claws in front of her face. Her mouth is still open in a silent scream.

“What in the seven hells is going on in here?” 

The words crack like a whip through the tense air, cold and razor sharp. The crowd parts silently, allowing Magister Hezethril into the laboratory. You make way for him, scrambling out of his path. The Magister is imposing in his long red robes, towering above the apprentices and pushing them aside with webbed hands. His bronze skin turns ink black halfway down his extremities, his nails lacquered with gold. He sweeps forward wordlessly, tendrils of long black hair waving in his wake. His frightening eyes, spots of gold in black sclera, fall upon the dead apprentice. He scowls in distaste. “Who was in the room when this happened?” he asks.

A trembling apprentice steps forward, a young man with blood on his hands. “I was,” he says hoarsely. “I came in to use the lab. Bianca was already here, working on something. She dropped something into the cauldron, I didn’t see what. But all of the sudden, she was gasping and convulsing. She started,” he swallows hard, his hands trembling, “scratching. At her own throat. I tried to stop her, but she fought me. She just kept scratching. There was this awful, wet noise, and then she…” One of the other apprentices puts an arm around him as he begins to sob.

“I see,” Magister Hezethril says. He turns on his heel and walks away. “Clean this up,” he orders, leaving shaken apprentices in his wake. Some scatter, eager to be far away from the gruesome mess, but you stay with a handful of others. The young man who saw Bianca die sits, unresponsive, against the wall. He’s going to need all the help he can get. Several apprentices cover Bianca with a white sheet and take the body away. You and a few of your peers begin scrubbing blood from the floor. You wince at the fleshy chunks of tissue among the mess.

Luca finds something in the bottom of the cauldron that makes him wrinkle his nose. “She was poisoned,” he mutters. “This brew was extremely toxic. No one in their right mind would have brewed it, but there’s some kind of residue in the bottom. I think she was sabotaged.” He pinches a fine, ashy dust between his fingers. You can’t recognize it anymore, singed as it is, but you believe him. The smell in the room leaves a distinct burning sensation in your throat.

Beside you, Sheila squeaks, “Sabotage?” She’s had to leave the room twice to vomit, and she looks like she might need to again.

“It’s not unheard of,” Phoebe says, shrugging. She wipes Bianca’s bloodied handprints from the cabinets. “Lots of mage apprentices die under suspicious circumstances. It’s new apprentices, usually. Young, impulsive, trying to compete. They just want to get ahead.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Sheila insists. “What’s there to compete over, anyway? The Magister hates all of us.” 

That gets a bitter chuckle from everyone in the room. Working together, you get the laboratory cleaned up in no time, every trace of blood and poison mopped up and disposed of. It leaves an empty feeling within you. It feels like you do this more and more often lately, erasing all traces of your fellow apprentices. Memorial services, if there are any, happen in the distant hamlets and villages where the apprentices came from. Life in the Magister’s tower goes on uninterrupted and you’re expected to behave as though the sudden holes opened up at certain desks and in certain dormitories simply do not exist. 

The others are thinking about it now. You can feel that heaviness in the air even with the body gone and all traces of death washed away. Accidents happen anywhere you gather inexperienced mages, but not nearly this many, not so close together. There’s a field south of the tower full of fresh graves and wooden crosses. “Why isn’t the Magister doing anything?” Sheila whimpers. “Is this what he wants? Are we all supposed to kill each other until only one of us is left?”

“Of course not,” you insist. You give her the water pail you were going to use to rinse your hands, letting her take it first. She sniffles as she scrubs Bianca from beneath her nails. “The Magister must know something’s happening. Maybe he’s just being careful. He doesn’t want to say anything until he’s certain he knows who’s responsible.”

“Are you kidding? Magisters get off on things like this,” Phoebe says, rolling her eyes. “It’s a power trip for them. You saw how he looked at Bianca, right? Like she was an insect. He only cares about his favorites. Bet you get extra credit for offing somebody.” 

“That’s awful,” you tell her. 

She shrugs. “That’s life.” 

“I assume you’re done in here if you have time to gossip.” 

The Magister’s voice is like ice down your back. Sheila practically sprints from the room. Phoebe sheepishly greets him and keeps her head down as she leaves. Luca eyes the Magister suspiciously but passes without a word. “Magister,” you address him, bowing your head. He holds out his arm when you try to step past him. 

“Just a moment, apprentice,” he says. You’ve heard him speak to your peers, reducing them to tears with nothing but his hard gaze alone. But when he looks at you, his strange gaze softens with affection. He says “apprentice” as though it’s a term of endearment. You shift uneasily, peering into the hallway behind him in search of your friends, but they’re long gone. A sinking feeling overtakes you when he bumps the laboratory door with his elbow, shutting it behind him. “I won’t keep you long,” he assures you. “Solstice preparations will begin soon. Could I persuade you to assist me?”

Could I persuade you, he says. A phrase unheard of, coming from the mouth of an elder mage. They don’t ask favors. They don’t plead or beg. They give orders, and apprentices jump to follow them. Magister Hezethril is no different, but for you, he will dress up the truth in pretty language, will say it sweetly so it scares you less. But you know better. You hear the threat unspoken. His hand hooks beneath your chin, demanding eye contact. The webbing between his fingers is soft and damp, slick against your skin. “Yes, Magister,” you say quietly. “I would be happy to assist you.”

The Magister’s smiles are uncomfortable, too wide and hungry, too inhuman. “Excellent,” he says. “See to it that your schedule is open, I’ll need you the next few evenings for preliminary research.”

“Of course,” you say. “But, ah, I will need tomorrow evening to myself.”

“Oh?” the Magister says, sounding so unconcerned and casual that you almost slip up, forget who you’re talking to. “And why is that?” You try, subtly, to slip out of his grasp. A mistake, you realize too late, Magister Hezethril’s pupils narrow into slits and he corners you against the back cabinets, slamming his hand against the wooden panels beside your head. You hear the cabinet door splinter, feel it shaking and collapsing inward. You hold your breath. The Magister bends slightly from his great height, his gaze piercing and heated. “Where are you going, apprentice?” he hisses. “Why the rush? Are you hiding something from me?” 

“I’m not, I swear I’m not,” you insist, too weak and hesitant to convince him. You can never lie to him. He always drags the truth out, one way or another. “I just...I promised one of the others that I’d tutor them in incantation.”

The Magister makes a frightening, inhuman sound, somewhere between a hiss and a growl, flashing fangs and a black, forked tongue. “This again?” he mutters. “How many times must I tell you that you are above them? They do not deserve your attention. How could you possibly learn everything I have to teach you when you are too busy with these wastrels you call your peers?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, nor the space to breathe. His sharp nails trace your jaw, titling your face towards him when you try to turn away. He looms so close you can smell the fire in his lungs, magic that could reduce you to ash if he so desired. 

“It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it, if another apprentice were to die,” he murmurs, looming inches from you, his breath warming your lips. “Such a terrible waste. So many accidents these last few months. So many dead.” 

“Please,” you whisper, clutching his shoulders. His robes bunch up beneath your grip but it’s worthless. He’s so much older and stronger than you. “Please don’t hurt anyone else.” 

Magister Hezethril tilts his head, drinking in your fear and submission. He traces your lips with the sharp tip of one nail. “Are you available tomorrow, apprentice?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you say shakily. “Yes, I swear, I’m all yours.”

It’s just what he wants to hear. Smiling, he pulls you into his chest. Gently, he smooths down your hair where it ruffled against the cupboards, pushing the creases from your cloak. But he pauses as he does this, catching sight of the thick turtleneck fabric you’re wearing beneath. He toys with it, peeling it down to expose tender flesh. You shiver under the attention, the careful stroke of his fingers along your pulse. “You aren’t just yet,” he says. “But that’s alright. I can be very, very patient.”

You wince when he slices into you, just enough to break the skin. He rolls your turtleneck back up. The wound throbs hot underneath. “See you tomorrow, apprentice,” he purrs. You nod numbly. The laboratory opens and slams the shut, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

[starshipsofstarlord]

God is With You, Even as You’re Sinning

Pairing | Sam Winchester x reader

Summary | it was your first time not killing a monster, and in its place, taking the life of one of your own. Guilt entraps you, and it is up to Sam to break you out of your pitiful hypnosis.

Warnings | mentions of death, blood, angst, guilt, some smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of murder

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Fuck God. This was all his fault, everything was to be fair. He had left the world to continue on its own accord, the apocalypse threatening to spill over the planet and destroy it and all beauty that was lingering through the existence of humans.

They killed each other, and the creator of all could care less. It was his smallest problem, he didn’t mind that the murderer was succumbed to guilt, or how many restless nights that he or she endured. God was cruel, even if he held up a facade of being your ally, and trying his hardest as he supposed, to be your friend.

Your hands shook as you remembered the entailment of your mistake. It was a slip up, a vast and surreal experience that people usually learned from. But what were you supposed to do, not kill a human again? Yeah you had gotten that, after all, the initial deed had not at all been intentional.

There was the victim’s blood dried upon the outer layer of your skin, casting you in the perfect image of murderous intent. However, you had no thirst to kill, instead, your hunting of monsters, alike to many others partaking in a similar lifestyle, executed the mythical beasts to protect the human population.

It pained you truly, to know that you had killed a person. You hadn’t even spared the familiar body a second glance, and out of panic, you fled the scene, leaving the body of the city cleaner in the gutter, laying in the remnants of his friends’ and family’s waste, burying him in their crude excrement.

The thought alone, and the sight that was engrained in the peripheral of your mind had you feeling sick. Slowly, you plodded down the steps of the bunker’s entrance, surely leaving footprints trademarked in all kinds of grotesque evidence.

Without much care for what lay heavily inside, you dropped your duffel from your shoulder, allowing it to fall on the ground with a disgruntled clatter. Nothing meant anything anymore, not if you were indeed a real killer. Whilst some monsters had weaselled their way into society, ending their pathetic attempts at normality was different than taking away the life of an innocent and mortal bystander.

Often, with the darker and crueler species, there were reasons as to why they pretended to be of human birth. Mostly, it was so that they could feed from the naive flock, or kill for their own amusement. Either way, none of their reasons were good.

But now, you thought of yourself as no different than them. A creature that needed to be put down for their crimes. Filing, you breathed in, only inhaling the various moulds of putridity that was weaved into your hair, and stuck to your skin like a face mask.

“Should I call you Cassie now?” At the joke, a laugh from the speaker was triggered. He was quite amused with the sight of you, and thus, you sneered at the tall man, hating him a little bit more than usual.

“Your pop culture references aren’t appreciated Winchester, it’s more Dean’s street.” Shoving past him, his high shoulder floundered back at the harsh and ignorant impact, an expression of offence covering his stupid face. Like a fawn, he tumbled after you, watching as you walked sullenly into the kitchen, yanking the door to the fridge open, and extracting one of his brother’s store bought beers.

“I’m going to guess the hunt went bad.” Sam speculated, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, and staring expectedly down at where you popped the cap off the bottle recklessly with your teeth. He almost winced at the sight, but he wished to keep this arrogant demeanour up with you, it was a natural desire to piss you off, and he’d be pissed at himself if he let it slip out of simple pity.

“Guess correct. Well done, you’ve won a trip to Hawaii.” You waved your free hand mockingly in the air, as the other raised the liquor to your mouth, allowing you to wilfully gulp the bitter liquid down. At his presence that remained nursing over you, you cocked a brow, leaning forwards as you expectedly looked back at the moose. “Just leave me alone Sam, I’m not in the mood for putting up with your bullshit.”

He, however, seemed not to be phased by you wanting to be left alone, and instead, quickly snatched the poison out of your hand, leaving you throughly prepared to keep him right in the balls. “What the fuck?” You all but screamed at the not so jolly giant. In turn, he crossed his arms across his chest, placing the bottle down on the island.

“I could ask you the same y/n.” His tone was dominantly serious, causing you to cower back into your shroud of guilty conscience. “Tell me what happened on that hunt, of which i told you that you shouldn’t have went on alone, since you wouldn’t have been able to handle it solo.”

You felt demeaned by his words, they sparked an anger out from the firm pit of your stomach. But you knew deep down, he was getting through to you, which was something that you had not managed to even do by yourself. Air heavily passed through and out of your nostrils, as acidic tears pooled in your eyes; a crack was falling down your walls, and out of all people, it was Sam Winchester whom had caused it.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone alone, but you know what, I thought of what a Winchester would do. And then I remembered, I am sure as hell not a Winchester and I don’t have a brother anymore! Not now, he didn’t even know who I was earlier, didn’t even recognise a single genetically identical hair on my head as he watched me parade through the town, the very one that I ran away from when he was a baby and I was seven, wanting to hunt a monster. Yet, i didn’t kill a damn monster Sam, I murdered my brother because you’ve been right all along, I’m not fit for this job. I am a mess, so congratulations, you finally have got me to admit the one thing that you keep reminding me of.”

“Y/n...” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond, he felt the waves of shock ripple through his body. Never so freely had you been vulnerable around him, and here you were now, with very visible tears cascading down your utterly torn face. He understood it was an accident, and the times that he and Dean had tried to kill each other under supernatural circumstances had him wondering what if.

Shaking your grime tethered head at the sound of his cracked voice, you stormed past him, and immediately raced towards the shower room, finding to your luck, which had been non existent during the rest of the day, the halls were barren of life. Walking through the door, you tore your ruined clothes off, chucking them upon the floor without much acknowledgement, before you went under the warm spray of the shower head, trying to calm yourself.

To rid your skin of its evidential accessories, you had to scrub your skin until it was immediately raw. Everything within you ached, as you flicked back to the memory of the clueless expression that had been worn by your blood brother. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know who you were, or else, he’d have known that his own sister murdered him due to her incompetence to listen to others.

Now, you were not even sure what were your tears, and what droplets of water belonged to the shower itself. For over an hour, you basked int eh warmth that seemed unable to cure your cold blooded system, turning the spritz off, and covering your body in a fluffy towel, that you were sure belonged to someone else, but right now, you could care less about who owned what.

As you reached the door to your bedroom, you found it to be preached slightly open, and as you pushed it the rest of the way, you saw Sam sat on the corner of your bed. You held your arms around yourself, insecure on the fact that beneath the stolen towel, you were nothing more than you. A wolf in sheep’s skin.

“Can I help you?” You bitterly asked, your eyes still burning from your own faulted loss. Sam breathed in, his eyes trailing up to your face, that was naked from any gruesome cosmetics or make up. The bareness to your completion illustrated an aura of innocence, and evidence that you were the same as him - human.

“That’s my towel.” The male hunter laughed, in hopes of changing the previous and well wounded subjected to ensure that you felt better. But what was he kidding, nothing could fill the void that you had dug in your own heart, nothing was closer than the bond between siblings, even if you were considered as strangers.

“Take it back then.” Too exhausted from your gruelling day, you dropped the material, your confident action making his eyes go wide, as he tried to look away from your exposed skin to respect your boundaries. It was impossible though not to allow his hazel hues to slip up the trunks of your thighs, up to- no, that was wrong, very wrong.

You had just lost your brother, not to mention, by your own hand, and he was prone to checking out your freelancing body, taking in every curve and twisted scar that was prominent to his speculating eyes. His eyes dropped to the discarded towel, which he had purposely left on the heating rail for later use, and then, they switched back towards you.

He stood, walking behind you as you looked through comfort clothes within your dresser. A light touch of his hand brushed your hair away from your neck, as he breathed a sweet hoax of hot air upon your scare. Sam was relieved that you didn’t reject the contact, and instead, pressed his lips upon the flesh, finding succession whence you hummed deliriously to yourself.

This interaction had been inevitable for a long time, but now no longer were the suspected intentions for such an exchange to be to release well endorsed frustrations. No, he was going to clear your mind for some sensual moments, and make your pretty little head forget for a moment that you had pained yourself in the worst of ways.

Turning, you laced your hands through his chocolate locks, massaging his scalp as you pulled him closer so that your lips could endure a rougher clasp against his. There was no passion, behind each contribution there was a spur of hunger, he grasped your ass cheeks, pulling you up to be sat upon the top of your heavy dresser.

Obliging his command, you spread your legs so that he could stand between their partition, his hands now running up the windows of your thighs. For a while, the pair of you did nothing more than make out, and cup a feel here and there, but soon after, Sam dropped to his lanky knees, leaving kisses in the wake of his descent.

His thumb and forefinger spread your fluttering folds, watching as your slit squirmed for attention. Sam licked his lips at the sight, running his middle finger up the expanse, until he came to your yearning entrance. Slowly, after making sure you were wet enough, Sam slipped his digit inside, you wiggling your hips to adjust to the thrust of his one finger.

To add to the sensations that were overriding your body, he moved his mouth to closer proximity, smelling the divine aroma that pulsed out of you. It was far too addictive to not get a taste, and thus,he pulled his finger out, sucking off your juices contently.

But that small sample just wasn’t enough, which encouraged him to dive face first into your pussy - literally. His long tongue teased your folds, slurping at the lips, and then switching to your clit to heighten the stimulation. He kept up a rhythm, using it as a pattern to push you closer to that edge, and he was surely certain that you were enjoying his oral work as you ground your face against him, moaning at his succulent administrations.

“Sam.” Oh god, was it pleasant to hear his own name fall out your mouth in such an erotic manner. It was far different from the way that you usually used it to snide at him, though, the thought of your regular treatment of him aided only to spur his lustful actions on. He wanted you to cum, for your juices to run down his face in waterfalls, looking as though someone had tried to drown him.

His work would not be complete until you found it difficult to even pronounce his short name. Digging his tongue in the hood of your clit, tracing around the protective area, his fingers returned to their earlier placement, and he quickened their pace until he could hear a satisfying squelch in the air.

Rapid sounds of parted moans raked from your mouth, your chest sticking out as you breasts heaved with your heavy breathing. It was noticeable that you were close, not just from that, but you were squeezing the circulation out of his fingers. “Fuck.” Left you in the form of a squeal, as you pussy wept its juices.

Sam was quick to lap everything that left you up, once more, tasting those that clung to his fingers. He went back in for another taste, but you tightly grouped his hair, pulling him away from your sopping cunt. “Need you to fuck me Sam, now.”

In an instant, the hunter stood, working precariously on undoing the buckle of his belt, and pushing all material that covered his lower half to the bottom of his thighs. He read already hard, and oozing precum. You swept your finger across the tip of his dick, bringing it to your lips to taste his foreshadowing seed.

Sam huffed at the sight,picking his prick up in one hand, and jerking himself a couple of times. And then, he aligned himself with you, rubbing his cock around your wet crevice a couple of times, slapping his tip teasingly against your puffy clit.

“Want my cock baby?” He asked, smirking as he watched you nod your head repeatedly. With that being all the confirmation that he needed, he pushed into you,feeling even more turned on as he heard you mewl, and watched the ecstatic expression cross your face as his dick fit inside of you all the way.

He grasped your hips, pulling out once before pushing in again. He repeated the action, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head at how tight you were. This would make you forget the cruel method of god, his story was not as epic as he though, for his characters were screwing against his will, basking in a distraction rather than the regretful pain that seethed in your trodden heart.

Another thrust had your nails clasping onto Sam’s covered back, biting onto his shoulder through the plaid, as you held back the tears that were trying to creep out of your blissful eyes. A few grunts left Sam, as his pace increased, and with every thrust, which only served to fuel him further, the dresser smashed into the wall behind it, most likely leaving a decent dent within the historical architecture.

“Gonna cum.” You told him, dragging him in for another tongue filled kiss as your cunt pooled around him, coating his cock in the honey from your delicious pot. He soon followed after, and for a moment, he remained against you, allowing you to bask in the comfort of his strange presence.

And then he pulled out, watching as his distraction dripped from your entrance, trailing down your thigh in a white streak. An orgasm smile was pulled onto your face, but it was certain to not last long for when you returned to the reality that laid waiting for you to return.

Sam stepped closer again, moving his fingers towards your cunt, and pushed his seed back inside of you, watching as your puffy pussy lips swallows any part of him that it could get. He would distract you for as long as he could, and then, deal with the inevitable.

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Invention of Murder: How the Victorians Reveled in Death and Detection and Created Modern Crime. By Judith Flanders. Thomas Dunn Books, 2011.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: non-fiction, 19th century English history

Part of a Series? No

Summary: In this fascinating exploration of murder in nineteenth century England, Judith Flanders examines some of the most gripping cases that captivated the Victorians and gave rise to the first detective fiction Murder in the nineteenth century was rare. But murder as sensation and entertainment became ubiquitous, with cold-blooded killings transformed into novels, broadsides, ballads, opera, and melodrama—even into puppet shows and performing dog-acts. Detective fiction and the new police force developed in parallel, each imitating the other—the founders of Scotland Yard gave rise to Dickens's Inspector Bucket, the first fictional police detective, who in turn influenced Sherlock Holmes and, ultimately, even P.D. James and Patricia Cornwell. In this meticulously researched and engrossing book, Judith Flanders retells the gruesome stories of many different types of murder, both famous and obscure: from Greenacre, who transported his dismembered fiancée around town by omnibus, to Burke and Hare’s bodysnatching business in Edinburgh; from the crimes (and myths) of Sweeney Todd and Jack the Ripper, to the tragedy of the murdered Marr family in London’s East End. Through these stories of murder—from the brutal to the pathetic—Flanders builds a rich and multi-faceted portrait of Victorian society in Great Britain.  With an irresistible cast of swindlers, forgers, and poisoners, the mad, the bad and the utterly dangerous, The Invention of Murder is both a mesmerizing tale of crime and punishment, and history at its most readable.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: description of violent crime, blood

Because this book is non-fiction, this review will be structured a little differently than my typical reviews.

I can’t say exactly what prompted me to pick up this book other than my love of history. I was in the mood for a little non-fiction, and I decided to give this a whirl after coming across it by chance a number of years ago. While I understand this book is aimed at a general audience and it is not, in fact, meant to be an academic publication, I still want to take the time to talk about what I think Flanders did well and what she could improve.

The first thing is that this book doesn’t have a clear central thesis. The thesis is implied by the title, but the first chapter just kind of delves into supporting evidence without really giving the reader a clear understanding of what the book is about, where it’s going, and how claims are being supported. While I understand the reluctance to make a generalized argument about a particular culture or time period, I still would have liked to see Flanders lay out her scope and do a little more groundwork.

This lack of a thesis also exists on a smaller scale. While the chapter titles imply what each section of the book is about, there’s frequently little to no introduction that lays out the chapter’s purpose. As a result, it felt like chapters were meandering, and I frequently felt like I was being asked to see patterns without being guided through the materials. Moreover, the chapters seemed to focus on some of the same things over and over, and though I understand the impulse to pick apart every aspect of your primary source, I think it would have been more effective had Flanders just focused on one or two significant things from each example.

All that being said, I would like to commend Flanders for the sheer amount of research she did. It’s quite evident that Flanders looked at a mountain of primary source material, and as a history and literature nerd, I respect the time and effort it must have taken to compile a source list for this book. I also appreciated the mix of legal documents, newspapers, and theater, not only because I love the arts, but because I think using a variety of literary genres helped showcase what “culture” thought about murder.

Overall, I would recommend this book if you have something of a basic handle of Victorian life and history, and you’ll probably enjoy it more if you love looking at language, newspapers, broadsides, and the like. For a casual reader, this book might be a little difficult - not because the material is difficult, but because the lack of clear structure can be disorienting. Still, I think Flanders did a lot of interesting work, and if you like wading through archives of primary source material, you'll probably find something that piques your interest.

[princesssarisa]

Snow White Winter: "Pamuk Prenses ve Yedi Cüceler" ("Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs") (1970 Turkish film)

Here we find something very interesting: in effect, a non-Disney live-action remake of Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Almost beat-for-beat it follows the Disney masterpiece. Snow White and the wicked Queen's regular costumes are copied almost exactly from their animated counterparts. The dwarfs have their Disney names (in Turkish translation, of course) and characterizations: Happy, Dopey, Grumpy, Sleepy, Sneezy, Bashful and Doc. And nearly every familiar plot point appears onscreen. Snow White is forced to work as a scullery maid, then meets her Prince when he hears her singing at the well and joins in her song. After fleeing into the forest, she runs in terror through the darkness, but then takes comfort by befriending gentle forest animals, who lead her to the dwarfs' cottage, which she cleans before they come home. The dwarfs have a marching song that they whistle on their way home, their familiar comic hijinks looking for the intruder, a washing scene where they forcibly dunk Grumpy into the water, a scene where they all sleep in odd places downstairs while letting Snow White use their beds, a scene where Snow White kisses each dwarf goodbye and Dopey tries to steal an extra kiss, and two scenes where they play musical instruments and dance with Snow White, one with music very similar to "The Silly Song." After the Queen/Witch poisons Snow White with the apple (as in Disney, the bodice and comb are cut), the dwarfs chase her until she falls to her death from a cliff. And in the end, Snow White is restored to life by Love's First Kiss from her Prince (though here it's a modest kiss on the forehead instead of on the lips). It's hard to believe that such a blatantly Disney-inspired film could be made: I'm sure it could only have happened in an era before Disney's Snow White was available on home media.

But it's more than just a reenactment of the animated classic. It fleshes out the story too, with some interesting and sometimes darker choices. The opening is inspired by the Grimms' tale, as we find Snow White's real mother sewing, pricking her finger and shedding a drop of blood on the white fabric, and praying for a child with skin white as snow, lips red as blood and hair black as night. (In a shout-out to another Grimms' tale, when the princess is born, the nursemaid suggests naming her "Rose Red" after her rosy lips before her mother insists on "Snow White" instead.) We then see the good Queen's illness and death, followed by a time skip to the King's remarriage to the wicked Queen many years later. Snow White's affectionate bond with her father is shown, only for the Queen to murder him with poison; then we see her Cinderella-style abuse of Snow White in drawn-out detail. We also meet the Prince and see him interact with his servants before he hears Snow White singing, and see him engage in a sword fight with the soldiers of the stranger-hating Queen. Rather than just being jealous, the Queen resolves to kill Snow White because she reads that the secret to eternal youth and beauty is to eat the heart of a maiden in love. Rather than sending a real huntsman to kill Snow White, she sends her executioner, a man with a hook hand, in disguise as a huntsman; after he fails to do the deed, she has her soldiers stab him to death, onscreen no less! (The animal's heart he brings her back is also shown onscreen, although the gruesomeness is softened by how fake it looks.) This scene is witnessed by the eavesdropping Prince, who promptly sets out to search for Snow White.

For the first time since the 1916 silent film, we find the dwarfs played by dwarf actors – some adult men, others young boys. In fact it's implied that these dwarfs are simply humans with dwarfism, not gnome-like beings, as when Grumpy laments over the "dead" Snow White that no one ever loved him as much as she did, he says that his parents rejected him because he was a dwarf. And while six of them are more-or-less faithful to Disney's template, Dopey, the most prominent dwarf in this version, is Dopey in name only: he's fully verbal, much less childlike, and more belligerent and mischievous. This film also has the dwarfs build a bed for Snow White, which was a scene planned for the Disney version but ultimately cut.

Another interesting aspect of the film is the way it combines European fairy tale aesthetic with Turkish elements. The costumes and architecture are, for the most part, classically European and Disney-inspired. But the nature settings sometimes feature terrain and plant life that's clearly Middle Eastern, some of the servants in the castle scenes wear Middle Eastern clothing, and some of the music is distinctly Turkish in style, particularly the songs Snow White sings that correspond to Disney's "I'm Wishing" and "Someday My Prince Will Come." This blend of different cultural elements is slightly strange and awkward, but fascinating too.

Meanwhile, the production values are solid, though far from Hollywood level, and while the acting is sometimes melodramatic in style, the cast is generally good. 16-year-old Zeynep Degirmencioglu is perfectly cast as a lovely, winsome Snow White, while Suna Selen is an appropriately sinister Queen, Salih Güney is a charming Prince, and the dwarfs are as endearing as they should be.

This is far from a definitive Snow White, especially since it borrows so shamelessly from the Disney version. But it's most definitely an interesting version and definitely worth a viewing or two.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @superkingofpriderock, @astrangechoiceoffavourites

[shirtlesssammy]

3x05: Bedtime Stories

Then:

John’s dead, the Colt exists, and Dean’s going to Hell

Now:

In a housing development in NY, three brothers argue over building materials and windy weather conditions. One brother falls victim to the blood cannon, and then another does. A third hides behind cinder block and thinks he’s safe --but he’s not! 

On a lonely road, the brothers have a particularly heated brother moment. Sam insists on calling a crossroads demon now that they have the Colt. Dean refuses. Dean doesn’t CARE if he dies. He only cares that if they mess with the deal, Sam dies. He’s not going to let that happen. Dean changes the VERY HEATED subject to ask about the case of the week. Sam doesn’t have much, but all signs point to werewolves. 

Detective Plant and Page interview the last brother standing. He’s in the hospital and is expecting the sketch artist to take down his account of the assailant. Dean leans into it and tasks Sam with the sketching duties. Sam gets to drawing.

The brothers are asking seriously leading questions, but the dude doesn’t have anything supernatural to add. It was a normal dude. His brother(s) are dead. He asks Sam, “How would you feel?” OOOOOOFFFFF. 

The moment ends with a little levity when the guy asks to see the sketch. 

(The little tattoo of the Wylie E Coyote SLAYS ME.) 

The brothers rule or werewolves and demons. 

On a nature hike gone wrong, a couple, lost in the woods, stumble upon a gingerbread house of glory. They’re SAVED! A kind old lady greets them and offers them hospitality. They agree to come inside and rest a bit. 

They stay for a bit of poisoned pie and disembowelment. YUM. 

A young girl watches from the window as the couple enjoys its own demise. 

Sam and Dean head to the hospital to interview the wife, who somehow survived the witch’s slaughter. Ted Beneke The doctor who oversaw the last survivor is there trying to comfort the woman. 

Sam and Dean ask the woman about what happened. It appears that she didn’t eat as much and while the witch was carving up her husband, she was able to push the old lady and kill her. The woman asks about a little girl. The woman describes the girl, and I presume Sam sketches her. 

At the old lady’s house, the EMF is going crazy. Sam posits that they’re maybe dealing with fairy tales. The original Grimm Brothers didn't tell happy ever after stories. What’s the deal with the ghost though?

Time for research. 

Dean spent 6 HOURS at the library and came up with nada. While they talk about the implausibility of the case, they walk and stumble upon a frog in the road. 

Sam notices a house with a pumpkin and a mouse and thinks of Cinderella. Dean gets a little gross and accuses Sam of being gay. Dude, LET it GO. Cool, confident Sam doesn’t give a shit, and they head to investigate. 

With guns drawn, they scour the house. They find a young woman chained to the oven. She tells them her step-mother went crazy and beat and chained her up. Dean notices and alerts Sam to the little girl watching them. 

Dean follows her only to have her disappear, leaving an apple behind.  

Dean and Sam unpack the symbolism to conclude that they’re staring down the barrel of a Snow White myth. (Dean saw the porn version.) Sam thinks that the little girl spirit is leading them to her sleeping (real) body. I crack Sixth Sense jokes to myself. 

At the hospital, a nurse who’s never heard of health information privacy reveals that there are no comatose little girls there, but there is “Callie” - the comatose daughter of the doctor we met before. She’s been in a coma for years. 

Cut to the doctor reading Little Red Riding Hood to his blushing, non-intubated(???) daughter. While he reads the story, an elderly woman gets carjacked at the supermarket while the young girl looks on. 

Sam and Dean catch the end of the fairy tale and grill the doctor using their patented Winchester puppy-dog-eye power. The doctor reveals that Callie was brought in at the age of 8 after swallowing bleach. His wife - her stepmother - was the one who found her. Now, the stepmother’s dead and the doctor is all alone...

I swear it’s been at least a couple years since I’ve seen this episode...but Dean then brings up Sixth Sense five minutes after I invoke the movie’s name - and the plot line of the ghost trying to tell about her killer. I’m forced to high five Dean over his Shyamalan reference. They speculate that Callie’s ghost has been marinating in a mix of vengeance and Grimm for years now. They conclude that it would PROBABLY be pretty uncool to burn Callie’s comatose body. Glad these two have their heads on right. 

Just then the carjacked granny gets rushed into the Emergency Room. She perishes from savage wounds - like those of a wild dog. Sam and Dean flash their badges at the EMT and get the address of her granddaughter. Sam stays behind to try to help Callie while Dean promises to “stop the Big Bad Wolf.”

Sam corners Doctor Garrison and tells him that his wife poisoned Callie. 

And now Callie is hanging around as a spirit driving people to commit gruesome murders. The doctor looks at his daughter sorrowfully and then SHOCKS us all by revealing that he’s seen Callie’s spirit as well. 

Meanwhile, Dean breaks down the door of the grandma’s house. He finds the terrified little girl and immediately starts fighting with the Big Bad Wolf and it clicks for me: OOOOOH RIGHT, Dean is the huntsman in this story. 

Sam tells Doctor Garrison that Callie has been trying to reach him - if he only listens to her he can help her to move on. 

Meanwhile, back at grandma’s…

Dean gets the tar beaten out of him while the ghost looks on. Doctor Garrison’s voice ripples into the scene, and Callie’s ghost pops back to the hospital. She confirms the story about her poisoning. He asks her to stop killing people and promises to let her go. The monitors flatline in the room as Callie moves on. 

At the house, the Big Bad Wolf suddenly snaps out of it. He doesn’t know where he is or what’s happening. Way to go screwing this dude for life, Callie. 

Later, the doctor recaps the plot; the kidnapped granddaughter is okay and everyone seems to be acting normally again. He tells the Winchesters that he should have let Callie go a long time ago. Dean looks pointedly at Sam.

Sam and Dean lob emo puppy eyes at each other over Dean’s impending demise. Later, Dean tosses and turns in his motel bed.

For Sleeping Beauty Science:

Sam packs up a bag and heads out the door. SAMMY PLZ. He buries a box at the crossroads and when the crossroads demon appears, he pulls the Colt on her. If she doesn’t drop Dean’s deal, he’s going to kill her. 

She laughs at his posturing. “Aren’t you tired of cleaning up Dean’s messes?” If Dean’s gone, then Sam is FREE, after all. (I hiss once again at the finale.) And anyway, she can’t nullify Dean’s contract because her boss really REALLY wants it for himself. Sam swallows moodily, then shoots her and watches her spark out. Sam, sweetie. Please work on using your words.

Once Upon a Quote:

I tell you one thing, there's no way I'm kissing a damn frog

Hey, you know fairy tales, I know movies

Aren't you tired of cleaning up Dean's messes? Of dealing with that broken psyche of his?

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[facelessxchurch]

Sorry, if you have already answered such an ask once, but do you actually have some head-cannons for the Diablery?

Yeah! Not many tho and they may be non-canon compliant  bc I hardly remember book 3.

Most members of the Diablerie are orphans, among them Murder Rose, Jaron Gallow and Gruesome Krav. It’s the reason they are so devoted and fanatical regarding their faith, without parents the church is the only family they know.

Which ties in nicely to my old headcanon of Baron having unofficially adopted the Diablerie and Billy Ray Sanguine, very much to Nefarian’s annoyance.

The Diablerie had a lot more members, but Gallow, Rose and Krav are the last surviving ones.

Without China and Baron around the group shares one brain cell and Gallow has it 95% of the time. Rose is pure chaos and Krav tends to tag along with her.

Idk why but Rose and Krav always gave me sibling dynamic vibes with Rose being the hyper, social one with no concept of personal space and Krav being the silent, scary one. People tend to be quite surprised to find out Rose is the one they should be more afraid of. 

Like, Rose seems like the typ of person just waiting for you to give her an excuse for her to hurt you. It’s canon that she’s highly sadistic, but she’s probably also a masochist. And also into latex and bondage with an outfit like that.

Ngl Helena Bonham Carter is the perfect face claim for Rose. Probably bc she’s giving me massive  Bellatrix Lestrange from HP vibes.

Since Gallow was canonly China’s student, so his Adept discipline was Signum Linguistics (Symbol Magic) too. Krav Adept magic seems to have been heavily implied to be Enchantment like Mr.Bliss. There are no canon clues about was Rose’s Adept magic could have been, tho I headcanon her discipline was Aborkineticism, which she used to grow plants for poisons and toxins. It’s an ability that developed naturally when she was forced to tend for the garden in the orphanage. And she of course instantly used it to harm the caretaker that forced her to do garden work.

Other than that: 

Here is how I headcanon their looks. You can’t see the back of Murder Rose’s head, but three are three hair buns that all kinda look like roses.

Here is a complaint I have that they didn’t recognise the FO invitation symbol in book 3 and how unlikely that seems.

[bubbletimestories]

Bosom bonus chapter (Destiel fic I guess)

Hello !

This fic is a bonus chapter of Bosom that you can find here if you want ^^

I lost the chapter long ago and had to write it again so it's not very polished but it's cute <3 I hope you're gonna like it.

Themes : pregnancy, hypnosis, mention of blood, Destiel, love, family, desire, fatherhood, Dean and Castiel becoming a real non-platonic family

Little summary of Bosom : Sam and Dean went into a village where men fell pregnant of little girls growing fast, parasites that provoke a huge love and protective instinct in the father and everybody around. The brothers have left the town but Dean is possibly pregnant.

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

(On the road again)

The two brothers set off again on the roads, as they always did, without a specific destination except for adventure. This sentence was very cliché, but I keep it. This little break had been most enjoyable, but now it was time to go back in search of new monsters to kill, new threats to contain. Except that a new case doesn't appear every day.

Sat in the passenger seat, Sam was bored like a dead rat. He watched the landscape go by, a perpetual succession of trees, while thinking that by dint of being stuck with the same person and the same old rock tapes, he was going to go mad eventually. It was probably the nicest option available to him, anyway. It was always better than "dead in excruciating pain", "tortured by Lucifer" or "employed in a fast food restaurant whose mascot is a clown". All in these gloomy thoughts, however, the hunter noticed an incongruous detail: since the time they had been running on the roads, Dean had not yet been speeding. He who was so inclined to make the Impala's engine roar had been very reasonable since leaving the small town. It was both surprising and ... appreciable. But the young man didn't really have time to think about it, because one of the many cellphones started ringing, a sign that they were about to resume service. A few sentences later, they were on their way to a new investigation, such as Scooby-Doo and his faithful companion in the green t-shirt.

- Pee break!

Dean braked hard without warning, his brother almost crashing into the dashboard and choking off a slew of curses as he straightened up. The driver had already gone into the thickets, holding back from laughing, for he had, of course, been looting on purpose. He wouldn't really be him if he didn't play pranks on his dear Sammy. So it was very proud of himself that he settled down behind a bush to… relieve more than his conscience. Knowing full well that his brother would look away in embarrassment, the young man began to hiss pointedly while slowly lifting the edge of his t-shirt. Knowing that he was out of sight, the Winchester finally took the time to examine the slight bulge in his abdomen, smiling as he saw a small glow appear on the surface.

- You are the weirdest food poisoning I've ever seen.

It had been two days since he realized something was wrong and it was already very late compared to other fathers. But come to think of it, Dean's body had gone through so many states (human, vampire, demon) that it took so much more for his body to panic. And then he'd come back from the dead so many times that he wasn't sure he was quite human anymore. Regardless, the hunter wasn't overly worried about not being alone, but he made sure Sam didn't know. It was his little secret.

After putting his belt back on, the young man got back into the car and turned to his brother with a big smile before throwing himself on him, putting his hands on his cheeks.

- A little hug Sammy? - DEAN! You're disgusting, you haven't even washed your hands! - We share everything, brother.

The younger man's insults responded to the older laughter, and a few hours later they arrived in front of an old, dark wooden building as night fell on the horizon. A hunter was waiting for them, anonymous since he will likely die in the fight, and quickly informed them that he had wanted to face the bloodthirsty ghost lurking in the house alone, but had not succeeded. The ghost's body was hidden in one of the walls so they were going to have to play with mace to be able to burn that bastard. As usual, Sam let the other two chat while he got the materials ready, did the final research needed, before jumping into the mouth of the wolf. Ammunition loaded with salt, lighter, iron bar, it was necessary to prepare for all eventualities. Finally, they made their way inside the dark building, their heavy boots cracking the blackish floor.

- We'll take care of the first floor. Sammy, go and inspect the second, we'll go faster.

With a nod, the hunters agreed and parted, soon rattling their hammers against the walls, tearing the silence of the night. They only had a short time before the entity that haunted these places manifested itself, which is why they busied themselves as best they could, sweat soon running down their backs. As Dean wiggled his arms made hard by the effort, he noticed a gaunt form appearing a few feet away from him, that of a black-toothed man staring at him, stroking the handle of a long razor. That's it, the hunt could begin in earnest. Without waiting, the Winchester raised his weapon and fired without taking the time to aim, showing absolutely no fear at the grimacing specter. The first bullet missed its mark, but the second hit the apparition in the head and he disappeared with a furious cry, alas for a short time. It was necessary to move faster, to search every corner in search of the corpse. Sam must have been alerted by the gunshots, his brother raised his voice to tell him that everything was fine, but the movement needed to be speeded up.

One by one, the partitions were gutted, revealing themselves empty as time went on. Fatigue began to win over the hunters who hit with less regularity. Through his plaid shirt, the eldest Winchester brushed his stomach for a brief moment, time to catch his breath. He did not notice until too late the drop in temperature which formed a thick mist as it left his lips and when he turned, it was to meet the perverse gaze of the phantom who was advancing quietly, his long blade outstretched towards the young man.

- And shit ...

Far from being paralyzed with fear, Dean raised his weapon and tried to shoot the murderous specter again, but the latter was faster, the razor cutting through the air to bite into the shirt and especially the young man's hand who stepped back, hitting the bulkhead. A mad laugh rose in the throat of the dead man whose dark eyes sparkled with bloodthirsty madness. Disarmed, his adversary now appeared to him as a prey, a superb victim to be cut up. The latter knew he was cornered and could not think of anything other than his imminent death. What was going to become of his baby? The young man suddenly felt his insides twist and he fell to his knees uncomprehendingly, his mind brutally clouded with pain as the ghost's blade left a deep mark in the wall where the Winchester was.

His partner, whose name doesn't matter, had witnessed the whole scene without really deciding what to do. But the moment Dean narrowly dodged, the anonymous felt a fierce conviction set his brain ablaze, permeating his bones with unheard-of strength that screamed "save him." Save him ”. He knew then exactly what to do, the solution was now crystal clear and he walked up to the specter without a hint of fear. There was no room for fear in his head, only the deep, overwhelming desire to protect the kneeling man and what he was wearing. He rushed at the ghost, an iron bar wielded in his clenched fist like a modern version of Braveheart.

Blood splashed on Dean's shoes as the pain in his guts disappeared, which finally brought him back to reality. He had time to make out the specter before it vanished and a body collapsed heavily on the rotten floor. From the slit throat a scarlet stream escaped, but the hunter's face expressed a proud serenity, as if he had accomplished his mission and died fulfilled. Called upon by screams, Sam ran down the stairs to find the gruesome spectacle. Fortunately, his brother was unharmed, though deeply shocked. He helped him up, being careful not to slip into the pool of blood, two bodies were expected to be burned that night, but they had no time to feel sorry for themselves.

- I couldn't find anything up there and neither can you, it must be in the cellar. - A corpse stashed in the basement, it's so obvious that I wonder why we didn't think about it earlier.

It was with these common sense words that the Winchesters descended into the foundations of the old building to find the corpse and end the grueling night. Turning their backs, they resumed their masses to shatter the plaster of the walls, raising clouds of dust making them cough, stinging their eyes. In the opaque atmosphere soon looms the murderous specter, his livid face completely distorted with hatred and thirst for blood. Rather than stealthily approach to slaughter the hunters, the ghost let out a hoarse cry that caught the attention of its attackers.

"Keep looking, I'll take care of him," Sam cried, brandishing his hammer with one hand, the other firmly grasping a gun loaded with salt.

The iron end of the sledgehammer sliced through the air, but did not touch the apparition, which encouraged the younger hunter to increase his efforts. Although he didn’t yet know where his desire to protect his brother really came from, Sam already had enough of the motivation between brotherly love and the survival instinct. In his back, the beatings had resumed, made more frequent by the situation of ambient stress. The specter's attention kept returning to Dean for some obscure reason, and the other hunter took the opportunity to empty his magazine, causing the attacker to disappear until he was without ammunition.

- Dean! - I'm almost there !

The mass slammed down into yet another wall which revealed a piece of yellowish skull, they were finally nearing their mark. Without bothering to dig out the bones any more, Dean sprinkled them with oil and salt before setting them on fire. The ghost let out a final angry howl before being consumed, calm falling abruptly as the cry of rage still echoed in the ears of the Winchesters. They had won. Yet good humor did not light up their dust-blackened features, for they had yet another body to remove. So it wasn't until early morning that they were able to lean against the Impala to catch their breath, their faces drawn with fatigue.

- Let's go back to sleep, I'm exhausted. - Who are you saying that to…

As always, they had to wash their faces, find a motel to be able to collapse on one of the shabby beds smelling musty but since the time they walked the roads, the boys would probably have had more trouble sleeping. in sheets scented with lavender. Exhausted, Dean sat down to remove his shoes without thinking about the condition of his clothes, a precaution that wouldn't have been wasted judging by his brother's surprised look. Without him explaining it yet, it seemed to the tallest of the Winchesters that a faint glow emanated from the torn shirt. Driven by curiosity, he walked over and parted the fabric to reveal the terrible secret of his elder brother who put his hands on his abdomen, reflexively.

- I can explain everything, Sammy, you see ... - How long have you known?

Instead of his usual disapproving look, Sam's face lit up in surprise as he brushed the slight bump where a unique treasure lurked. Embarrassed, the father-to-be whispered half-heartedly that he must have been pregnant for five days. Five days ... and he hadn't realized it! To say that his brother received such a gift ... it was more luck than they had had in the past ten years and yet they had experienced miracles. The long-haired giant looked up at Dean jokingly.

- Hopefully not all of your children are bloodthirsty monsters.

Somewhat reassured by the reaction of his younger brother, the young man softened and they went to bed in a good mood after this perilous mission. Once rested, they decided to go for something to eat, on the one hand because eating is a vital need, on the other hand to celebrate Dean's pregnancy. Sitting on a tired bench, the latter consulted the menu with the utmost seriousness until a waitress came to take the order.

- The daily special for me, please. Dean, a big burger? - Yes, I'm ravenously hungry ... Although no, the salad. Or the burger? I crave a burger badly, I could devour eight of them, with big fries, but I still have to take care of my body and my health and the salad seems like a much healthier choice, especially now. But I really want meat and cheese, something fatty. I do not know what to choose !

With disconcerting rapidity, the hunter sank into a deep anguish to burst into tears under the stunned gaze of the waitress who did not know at all what to do or what to say. Even Sam, who was always quick to invent an excuse to get them out of any situation, was dumbfounded by such a spectacle. He eventually recovered and mumbled that his brother would have a burger with green salad, giving the waitress the opportunity to run away without asking for her rest. Dean calmed down as quickly as he had panicked and the rest of the meal went off normally, if we omit the curious looks around.

In the days that followed, the two boys decided it was best for the future dad to rest in the bunker until the end of his pregnancy, the life he usually led was not at all suitable. Even if that meant that Sam was going on a mission alone, it didn't bother the giant who kept giving news regularly. Eight or ten days after their departure from the village, the eldest brother received a visit from his dearest friend, the angel Castiel, who was obviously not up to date with the latest news. Knowing the angel's anxious nature, Dean preferred to remain silent and chat as if nothing had happened, not without admiring the shy but sincere face of the brunette. Castiel spoke with his usual seriousness about Heaven, about what was going on in the supernatural world and then, shyly dodging the hunter's gaze, he pulled a box out of a large plastic bag.

- I brought some pie, I thought you'd like it.

Indeed, the sight of the delicious pastry covered with shiny cherries was enough to make your mouth water, the young man had not eaten pie for weeks and he had to contain himself with great difficulty not to swallow it up. Still, he wasn't the only one who enjoyed the dessert and after a few bites, the little being in his belly began to express its enthusiasm by stirring. Nothing to do with the delicate brushing of human fetuses, it bounces with the force of a rubber ball, snatching an exclamation from his father. He couldn't deny it, either for appetite or discretion, Dean laughed helplessly, all the more so when he saw his friend's incomprehension.

- The baby is a big pie lover, too, and she thanks you, I think.

Illustrating his words, he lifted his shirt to reveal his rounded and shiny stomach, still all smiles as if after a good joke. Castiel, on the other hand, wasn't laughing at all. Instead, he jumped up, staring at the bump as if it were the Devil himself. He had never heard of such a phenomenon, and his default mechanism was fear. Coming into something he didn't know was new enough that the angel panicked.

- Dean, what happened to you? What's in your stomach? - It's called a baby, Gabriel must have mentioned it to you in passing.

The joke had no effect on the divine being who continued to stare at the stomach with fear and anger, too powerful to be subjected to the influence exerted by these creatures around. Obviously, Dean was not in his normal state, he harbored a dangerous parasite and it would inevitably end in chaos and death. Feverish, Castiel explained his point of view, encountering the jovial relaxation of the hunter who suspected that the news would be difficult to swallow. He let the angel pour holy water on his abdomen, squeeze a silver blade there, recite a few words in strange languages. Then, he took advantage that his friend was kneeling in front of him to take his face in his hands.

- You think too much, you didn't even congratulate me. - Now is not the time to laugh, Dean, this thing is growing, probably at full speed, we don't have time to ...

Castiel's warning was cut short, muffled under a teasing kiss that stirred the celestial entity to his depths, annihilating his thoughts in a breath, a squeeze. The shock paralyzed him and the hunter took the opportunity to prolong the embrace of their lips as long as possible before pulling back as if nothing had happened, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. The poor angel was completely confused, unable to continue to be worried or angry. So he vowed to watch Dean to monitor the progress of this pregnancy and find out whether or not he was right to take a dim view of it. As he left the bunker that day, he couldn't help but bring his hand to his lips, still feeling the heat on his mouth, the heady sensation of the kiss. He was to learn later that the new condition of Winchester made him very… affectionate. The hugs, the teasing looks sure made the angel blush from ear to ear, but it was nothing compared to the fit of madness when the belly started to draw more strongly. Grateful to his mate for bringing him fries, Dean threw himself on his neck without warning, a move to which the prudish and delicate Castiel did not know how to respond other than by awkwardly pulling away. The hunter concluded that he was undesirable, too bloated for the angel to look at him, and sulked in his room for long hours.

That put aside, Dean enjoyed the quietness of the bunker to go about his business and marveled more and more every day at the evolution of his body and of what was inside. He who had taken so long to realize the treasure he was carrying could only think of that, walking barefoot through the silent halls talking to his child. Besides, he was far from being a carrier father like the others, he was much stronger, much richer than ordinary humans and the entity at the center of his life could only be special too. Imperceptibly, the two beings changed, sublimated with each heartbeat, to achieve a degree of perfection that the first goddess would never have hoped for for her kind.

One day like any other, Castiel arrived for a visit and the hunter almost ran up to jump into the arms of his friend who was still very surprised (and moved) by this sign of affection so spontaneous. Hris blue pupils rested on the body with shapes hardly concealed by a loose shirt buttoned up to the collar, the radiant face, the sparkling eyes, the smiling and sublime mouth... There emanated from all his being a warm joy which finished disturbing the angel with a too human heart. Although what he felt did not depend on the fetal pheromones, he harbored a deep desire to stay with the Winchester, for all eternity.

- If you only knew how happy I am to see you ...

Dean approached his friend and put a hand on his cheek before capturing his lips in a kiss that softened to hot, catching the breath of the young man who felt himself respond to the hug, his own hand sliding behind the masculine back so as not to let him slip away. When he felt the tip of a tongue tickle his mouth, Castiel was electrified, but just as he was about to indulge himself a little more, the tasty lips parted from his. A stifled protest escaped him and he remained petrified, still vibrating from this intimate and far too short exchange. The infamous tempter smirked innocently, looking down at the bump under his shirt.

- She is happy too, we missed you. Very much.

With slow movements, he took the angel's hand and rested it on the outstretched flannel, appreciating to feel him caress his belly, greet the little being it contained. Even if it was not the first time that Castiel had the opportunity to visit his friend and see his fulfillment, it was always a great moment to have this intimacy, without fearing the interested gaze of a Sammy who did not had no illusions about the duo. His hand resting on the brunette's, Dean watched him staring at his swollen abdomen with that shyness all his own. He put words to his own emotion.

- To think that it's been two weeks already… it's happening at full speed. You will see, she has become very restless.

The brunette quickly looked up at the young father, worried about losing himself in their intense green and blushed. He waited only a few seconds, his palm resting against the warm fabric, before feeling a jerk against his fingers, followed by another as if the baby wanted to rest her hand against his. He whispered to himself:

- I would like to see her grow up...

The tender tone of his voice made Dean want to kiss him again, but instead he took his hand and laughed.

- You better be there to help me! On the other hand, I am a little tired, it bothers you if we continue to chat in my room, I will lie down a bit.

Maybe Dean had an ulterior motive, at least the cherub had none and he nodded as he followed the hunter down the halls, their hands still entwined even when the future father stretched out on his mattress with a sigh of relief: without being painful, the belly began to weigh heavily. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Castiel watched his friend slowly undo the buttons of his collar, descending along his finely chiseled chest ... Finally, the young man parted the flannel to proudly expose his more than rounded belly radiating lightly in the quiet of the room. It might sound strange, but the angel found his companion magnificent in gentleness and fragility, a million miles from his usual manly and confident demeanor. He immediately liked both sides, but for the first time he was not ashamed of such a thought. In the half-light an intimate atmosphere created that put the angel at ease, as if inside a soothing cocoon. Dean's pregnancy had allowed the two men to find themselves far from the violence and danger that constituted their daily life, without threat to eliminate, without a deadly shadow to hover over their heads. In the calm of the bunker, they had then been able to meet again, to simply be together and that was enough for the happiness of the divine being. Obviously, he knew things wouldn't last (they never lasted) and that they would soon return to their dark and tense daily lives. But he had decided to worry about it later.

The father-to-be eyed his friend fondly, detailing the locks falling on his forehead, the line of his jaw and his cheekbones that would soon turn pink. Embarrassing Castiel had always been one of the hunter's favorite pastimes, but he had never yet admitted how much he loved to see the blush rising to the young man's cheeks, that candor that then stood out on his face as if he had not been a millennial and heavenly being, but a shy teenager. Dean lifted the angelic hand and brought it to his lips before resting it on his blossoming lap with an encouraging smile.

- Talk to her. She recognizes your voice ...

Dean knew full well that his friend would refuse at first, there was only to see his blue eyes rounded with a mixture of joy and worry, his hand trembling slightly at the contact of the plump belly that fascinated him. But the hunter also knew that he could get anything from the angel and that he would not refuse him for such a tiny request. Shy and embarrassed as he was, the young man wanted to bond with this child, it showed on his face. Castiel finally nodded and took off his overcoat to be more comfortable, then resting his hand between the hunter's and the bulging surface. Through the thin skin, a delicate form curled up against the offered palm as if to say hello, a bewitching glow emanating from the fetus.

- Uh ... hello, little girl?

If the two friends could have heard the baby, they would have heard a crystal clear sound expressing simple and pure joy. Fortunately, the little being had other ways of making herself understood and she began to radiate a bright orange, imprinting her shape on one place of the belly and then appearing at the other end of the rounded abdomen, bouncing all over the place. with an enthusiasm that took her father's breath away. Fearing that she would hurt the hunter, Castiel put his two hands on either side of his stomach to calm the overly restless little angel.

- Be good and don't hurt your father.

Immediately the shaking ceased, to the delight of Dean who took a deep breath and laughed, amused by the baby's overreaction, but also by how quickly the latter had obeyed the angel. The certainty that he had the two dearest beings near him (sorry Sam) moved the young man who slipped green eyes filled with sweetness towards Castiel. He rested his rough palm against the beloved cheek, enjoying the touch as he glided lightly up the warm neck to stroke the jawline with the tip of his thumb.

- You see ! A child always recognizes the voice of their parents. - Oh Dean…

The time that flowed like a long trickle of honey came to a standstill as they looked at each other, losing themselves in pale eyes imagining an idyllic, slightly cliched, but incredibly alluring future. The small heat ball continued to form a bump against the hand of the angel, this tiny creature that gathered humans and legendary beings around them. By her mere presence, she had transfigured Dean, given him back a peace and happiness he never thought he would ever achieve and just for that, the angel loved this child. To think that he had wanted to destroy it, to make it disappear from the body of the hunter when he discovered it… Then he had fallen under the spell of this innocent, indistinct form, which made the Winchester smile. He had fallen under the spell of this quiet, simple life, where the man he loved embraced him without embarrassment or reason, where he no longer felt ashamed to feel for his companion more than a brotherly friendship.

- I… I'm sorry I misjudged you. Stay warm for a while longer to be able to grow taller. I'm looking forward to meet you.

Without really realizing it, the young man had leaned down to rest his cheek against the taut skin, the tips of his fingers moving back and forth in imprecise shapes on the thin, sensitive flesh that shivered slightly. Touched by so much tenderness, Dean closed his eyes and began to stroke the mass of dark hair, concentrating on his sensations, on the angel's gestures against his deliciously numb body. This was what he had dreamed of without ever perceiving it clearly, what he no longer believed he deserved after all this time hunting, torturing and killing. Castiel observed the treasure buried in his friend, studied its almost translucent chest, the magical light which moved on its surface in a fragile and bewitching ballet. The young man straightened up and put his lips on the bulge, kissing this unborn child to whom he already owed so much. He began to deposit cuddly kisses along the dark line crossing the belly and the creature began to radiate with joy, changing from amber to a soft pink, from a delicate red to a sparkling gold, extending its light and its warmth even in the bones of its wearer who was at the height of joy, his limbs subtly illuminated from within. The whole thing was so beautiful that Castiel felt a bubble burst inside him, a flood of feelings that fear could no longer hold back. Suddenly straightening up, he spoke without thinking, but did not regret his words, for they came from the heart and had long waited to be released.

- I want that with you, I want to have a child who would be ours. I want… I want… I want to be with you, Dean.

The man opened his eyes again and was silent for several seconds, staring silently at the angel who, if he realized what he had just confessed, couldn't manage to look away or feel embarrassed. Finally, the hunter's face relaxed into a beaming smile and he pulled the cherub close to him with a burst of laughter.

- Cas... Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas... it took a long time!

Even as he spoke quietly, his hoarse voice reflected his emotion and he thought of Sammy, his comments and knowing looks, from the time he had been expecting this. But deep down, he didn't care about his brother, being a pregnant man, or having denied the obvious for so long: he was happy. He hugged the angel tighter against his heart and the angel let it go, putting a possessive arm across the muscular chest without being able to believe his luck. Of course, there were all those kisses, those special moments for several days, but Castiel only saw it as a game, a way for the father-to-be to have fun. But in his arms, he couldn't doubt anymore, not when he felt the tender kiss Dean placed on his forehead, whispering:

- Me too, I want you and forever. I can't think of a better father for this child. We're going to be a family and we'll have another, and another. I love you, Cas.

It was a promise of the future and there needed no sign for the two lovers to decide to sign this pact with a kiss, their lips joining with a timid tenderness to quickly become pressing and feverish. Strangely, it was Castiel who proved to be the greediest, propping himself up on one elbow to extend the carnal embrace, leaning over the hunter until they had to catch their breath. Eyes sparkling with love and mischief, they hugged and when the angel's shirt fell to the floor, his fiery mouth descending down Dean's throat, it was time for the other Winchester to return to the bunker with as much noise as possible.

The day of deliverance finally arrived, life couldn't be reduced to hanging out in the bunker, eating whipped cream with Castiel or laughing stupidly because he couldn't see his feet, Dean was impatient for his child to come out of this big belly to be able to really meet her. He realized how lucky he was, not only to carry life, but to be able to do so without a problem. Unlike previous dads, his features weren't emaciated, he didn't feel particularly tired or weak. However, when the first contractions arrived, he found himself like all the others, on his back breathing hard. The pain was bearable but for how long? Sam had just been warned but it would take him several hours to get back, his brother didn't have that much time ahead of him. Already, the surface of his swollen stomach was moving frantically, lighting up in shades of warm tones to express the urgency of the expulsion. With his hand tightly wrapped around a large knife, the Winchester was ready to do his Caesarean himself but couldn't help the fear surface. Could he survive to meet his daughter?

- Dean, I heard you praying and I made it as fast as I could ...

Castiel suddenly appeared at his side, prayed for his hand and rounded his eyes, feeling his tremble. The great hunter who had faced Death in person, the Devil and the whole of Heaven was afraid. Gently, he wiped his forehead already soaked in sweat, that simple gesture sufficient to appease Dean who gave him a teasing look. Before screaming when the thing that was hiding inside him began to tear his insides to see the light of day. The time for uncertainty was over, the child had to be brought out quickly, without instruments or care, on the carpet of an old bunker. His blue eyes suddenly serious, the angel caught the distraught and pained gaze of his lover, speaking in a surprisingly calm voice.

- I won't let you die, Dean. Neither you nor our child.

They concluded this promise with a silent nod before the young man's world was darkened with blood and pain like he had never felt before.

***

The clock struck the hour but no one bothered to count the strokes, it didn't matter at all. Lying in a pool of blood, Dean stroked his daughter's little head, feeling her warmth against his bare chest. He felt great, which was not the case with Castiel who was catching his breath, still nauseous after all the efforts to keep the man he loved alive and then heal his wounds. Now they could enjoy a well-deserved rest, their fingers intertwined and hearts in unison, a real family.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Heartbreak, Jailbreak - Narciso Anasui ( Non Pucci AU)

Life in prison isn't particularly the most beautiful thing to encounter, especially if you've been framed, and unfortunately, I had to learn that the hard way. 

To be fair, I don't even think one could call it "framed", since it's mostly police negligence and ignorance. They just wanted to get rid of me and this burden of a murder case faster. 

But honestly, how could a 17 year old kill her family and completely destroy her seemingly perfect life? 

For me, the police's logic is a complete mystery... But that's exactly how I was sentenced to 40 years in prison. 

They thought that I, a prodigy student, ready to take the Medicine University entrance exam, threw it all in the garbage and gruesomely killed my parents and dog, only to then go on my merry date with my then-boyfriend, that was in reality, nothing more than a scumbag.

Well, it's not like I could really do something else, and I pleaded for having a split personality, so for the past 5 years, I've been pretending to be a very dumb, soft and innocent little girl that would never hurt a fly, which made it easy for me to gain the favour and pity of most of the guards around for being a harmless angel. 

Haha, if only they knew. 

 At least I was allowed to read and study at my leisure, I was later given my own cell, shared with nobody else, I could perform piano and violin recitals during certin occasions or events and many other favours. 

Prison life was incredibly boring, especially since all women around were incredibly aggressive and hostile, or just plain dull and uneducated and you couldn't really coverse with them. 

Well, that all changed now, present time, when I met the 2 new girls, Jolyne and Hermes. Let me tell you, these girls were absolutely amazing and you could always have great conversations with them, especially with JoJo. And to think that I met her when I bribed the hairstylist not to cut their hair, and further on, when I'd give them money for random stuff they'd want to get.

Over the time, I realised that the girls also somehow managed to get Stands, but unlike mine, with which I was born, they got theirs through some way or another. And thus, began our random battle with evil as Jolyne had to fight the men who wanted her dead and framed her, mainly her boyfriend, while Hermes was there to kill the man who killed her elder sister. 

We were there for each other, emotionally, morally and physically at all times. The weirdest things happening were, however, this little kid who could use some kind of ghost ability, and inside this ghost music room, a silver haired man was leaning on the piano - They said his name was Weather Report and that his Stand is named the same way. 

Weird, but who am I to judge. 

Emporio, the little kid, mentioned that sometimes another man would join them, but he was much less sociable and was always in a grumpy mood.

And so, here we are, present day- A beautiful day of Spring in the Dolphin whatever Prison, where the men and women were allowed to spend a few hours in the courtyard to get some fresh air...Or something. 

I can only guess the guards were in a good mood or something, who really knows? 

I took my sweet time getting to the courtyard as I was reading while walking, already knowing the path there, my feet dragging me there automatically, and when I looked up from the book, I saw Jolyne, Foo Fighters and Hermes playing catch...I think? 

I greeted them with a soft smile, making my way to the bench, my long pastel pink dress swaying gently on the Spring breeze as flower petals were dancing around gently. 

Everything was perfect, everyone was smiling and laughing- But that all changed when some girl got in front of me and snatched away my book, looked at the cover, then scrunched her nose in disgust.

"Eww, you read this shit? No wonder you're the guards's pet. And to think they all say you are actually a cold-blooded murderer or something, how lame!" she scoffed, walking away with my book. "Please give me back my book. If you want to borrow it, let me finish it first." I spoke in a soft and sort of aloof voice as I stood up, looking after her. "Why the hell would I wanna read some boring bullshit- No, actually, why are you talking back to your superiors?!" she sneered, seeing me walking towards her casually. "Y/Nick, do you want me to get rid of that bitch?" Hermes looked at the girl in disgust. "No, thank you, dear. Let's not resume to violence on such a beautiful day, it would be quite a shame." I smiled mockingly at the enemy, only to have her get in my face, screeching at me. "Shame? Like what your parents felt heaving you as your daughter? Oh, wait, I forgot! They're dead! You killed them!! Hahaha, how vile of you, Miss perfect!" she laughed tauntingly, which only made me bite my lip to stop myself from snapping and twisting her neck in a fit of rage. "Give me my book back, please." I repeated in a lower, more threatening voice, making her gasp and hitting my face with my own book. "WHO DA HELL D'YA THINK Y'RE, Y'WHORE?! You think you're so fuckin' perfect 'cause everyone loves ya or somethin'?! Well, how 'bout I steal all yo' money, ehhhh?!" she shrieked, but the only thing that made me afraid was getting some spit from her on my face. "Your loss." I sighed, rubbing my cheek, taking out my Stand and pulling her hair on fire. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO, BITCH?!PUT IT OFF! PUT IT OFF!!!" she took out a small revolver from her pants, aiming it at me, but I quickly dodged it, and proceeded in engulfing her on fire and getting my book back. 

What I wasn't expecting, however, was to heard a grunt, followed by a thud and some gasps, and upon snapping my head back, I realised a pink haired man was on the ground, and the girls were gathered around him. My jaw dropped in dread realising that because of me, that man was shot, and I rushed to his side, pulling the girls away as I brushed the hair from his face.

"I'm so sorry, mister...Because of me, you got shot. Let me heal you, please." I spoke in a softer voice, taking out my Stand and using her healing water to successfully extract the bullet, then healing the wound. "Are...You an angel...?" he murmured weakly. "No, but my Stand is. Her name is Lilium and she's pleased to meet you...Although she'd prefer to have met you under less...Fatal situations." I offered him a tender smile, as Lilium's wings spread a bit more. "Y/Nick, I don't think you've met him. He is Anasui, the other guy who's around Weather in the ghost room." Jolyne patted my head, introducing us. "Oh, so you're the mysterious man I was supposed to meet! It's really nice to meet you! My name is Y/N L/N, but my friends call me Y/Nickname or other variations, so feel free to be creative." I got up, dusting my dress before offering him my hand to helping him get up. "I'm really sorry about the whole ordeal, I just hope it doesn't hurt too much anymore." I gave him an apologetic smile as he towered over me, looking down at me. "It's fine. Narciso Anasui, call me whatever you like. And uh...Thanks for the fix. You have a nice Stand." he looked at me somewhat awkwardly, unsure of how to react.  "Thank you, Narci! You have beautiful hair! It looks great with Spring. If I had a camera, I'd have loved to take pictures of you in nature." I hummed in amusement as the girls started laughing at the thought. "That's the funniest shit I've heard in a while, I swear-" Hermes booming laugh echoed around the place, annoying Annasui greatly. "I don't get it, why is this little mouse around anyway? You can't tell me she actually did something bad. Why did she get put here? Didn’t smile for a minute?" he crossed his arms, looking at us with a raised eyebrow, almost as if he were interrogating us, but instead of an answer, a deafening silence fell. "Uhm...Anasui..." Jolyne tried to mutter, but instead, I raised my face up to him, smiling with a fake innocence that dripped with a paralysing poison, making him feel that the whole place was thrown into the Ice Age all of a sudden. "I massacred my family." was all I said before walking past him, my hands behind my back, gripping my slightly burnt book, letting my long crimson hair fly behind me.

So much for first impressions. 

---

For the following days, I stood by Jolyne’s and Hermes’ side for the majority of time, and so, I was able to understand most of what happened to them and why they are here, and more, the fact that Jolyne’s dad was going to come over and try to get her out of jail, only for her to try to get all of us out, since his influence is just that great.

What I had to do was to assist their private meeting by knocking out the unsuspecting guard that was supposed to be in the same room and negotiate, but also, tell the older man about the Stand Users and leaders of the prison...

After all, being a “Pet” in this place is rather beneficial.

The meeting went smoothly, so Hermes, FF and Jolyne were preparing their strategies, while I hurried in the Ghost Room to tell Emporio and the other the plan.

“Great, everyone’s here. So, uhm...We have a plan. To escape, I mean. And...It’s going to work. But we need everyone’s help. It won’t be easy, but if we get out of here, Jolyne’s dad promised to get us new identities and places to stay, and a chance to live a normal life from now on. So, uhm...What do you say?” I look at the 3 of them, whose eyes seemed to burn holes in my skin. “Sure.” Weather nodded nonchalantly. “Can we really get out of here? And I won’t have to go to an orphanage?” Emporio looked up at me with hopeful eyes. “Uhm...As far as I know, Jolyne mentioned something about making you her little brother or something, if you’d want that too, of course. You’re a kid, you shouldn’t have to worry about things like these. You’re going to have a normal childhood from now on. You deserve it.” I smiled warmly at him, patting his head. “That’s amazing! I can’t wait!” he hugged me tightly with his little arms. “...Narci...? What about you? You’ve been quiet all this time...Is it because I snapped at you back then? If so, then I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” I spoke in a softer voice, hoping he would answer back. “I’m not coming.” he scoffed, going to the bookshelf, taking out a book, in a way to show that he’s not interested in talking. “Wh-What?! Why?! Don’t you want to get out of this place?! You already have like...15? 20? Years in this place. You’ll get out of here at 40-50 years old, and that’s basically your whole life being lost doing nothing! Don’t you want a second chance to live and learn to be happy again?” I approached him, looking at him with a sad pout. “Don’t give me that look. You only know me from the others. I’m a bad person, why’d you care what happens to me? After all, unlike you, little liar, I am an actual murderer.” he didn’t even raise his gaze from the book to look at me. “...Because in the little time we spent together, I could feel you weren’t a bad person. You are just extremely emotionally hurt and you try to hide behind your cold wall...And...You��re the only person who was sure from the get-go that I’m not a murderer. So...You’re not as bad as you say you are...Murderer or not. I’m sure you had your reasons.” I tried to reason, as he snapped his look at me, his eyes sparkling with confusion and a myriad of mixed emotions, until he threw away the book and slammed me on the bookcase, putting his hands on both sides of my head, towering over me. “I know purity when I see it. You’re the embodiment of innocence and purity, just like your Stand. But your kindness isn’t just that, it’s an act. What are you trying to pull here? And why do you cling so much on Jolyne?” he talked in a low, threatening voice, almost as if he was a wolf ready to tear at my throat. “I can’t tell what you see so nice and kind in me...I really don’t...But even so, I...I want to help Jolyne. She is like me, but she still has a family out there that loves and waits for her. They miss her, and she misses them...But me? I have no one. I, like her, got framed for such horrible crimes...But there’s nobody to support me. Even if I get out of here, I’ll still be alone...But frankly, I was beginning to lose my mind doing the same things over and over again and pretending to be a dumb idiot with some kind of psychotic split personality.” I tried to say, as my breath was taken away from the sudden closeness, blushing at the embarrassment and the anxiety I felt, as I wasn’t used to people being in my personal bubble. “Hmmm....Fine. I’ll help, but on one condition. If you agree, then you can do what you want with me and my power. What do you say? I could be asking anything...Are you really going to do anything to make sure Jolyne gets out of here? That all of us get out of here and have that stupid happy end you see in those Disney movies?” he was so dangerously close to me that I could feel his breath, as his long hot pink hair was brushing against my cheeks. “...What is your condition, Narci?” I bit my lip, trying to stay composed and breath again. “Marry me when we get out of here.” he smirked, making both myself and the kid gasp in shock. “H-Hey, Anasui, you’ll really help?!” Emporio looked at him with his jaw hanging wide open, but all I could do was stare at the magenta-eyed man, as my head was swimming with a hundred thousand of thoughts. “...M-Marry...M-Me...?! Wh-Why would you...?! Me?! O-Of all people?...I-I-I thought you liked Jolyne, she’s much better than me...A-And...I-I j-just...Me?! Why’d anyone want to date me, let alone marry me?...Are you making fun of me, Narciso Anasui, because if you are, it’s not nice messing like that with people’s hearts!” I tried to yell at him, but no matter how I tried to make my voice firm, it was trembling, making it obvious that I was trying my hardest not to cry. “If I wanted to mess with you, I’d have told you to let me fuck you. Yes, Y/N, I know, I look like a very harsh and cold man...I am a murderer, after all...But your conviction to help us get out, your gold heart...They touched me. But I’ll be very clear, I won’t help Jolyne to get us out of here, I’ll help you get a better life. I’m doing this for you, not for anyone else.” he explained strictly, as I could only clutch my shirt where my heart was, trying to regain my composure. “Can you also promise me something...” I whispered, putting my other hand on his neck, to get closer to him. “What is it?” he asked, skeptically. “...Promise me...You won’t play with my feelings...And break my heart...? I don’t think I can handle it again...I don’t know what I’ll do if...” I whispered in his ear, not able to finish my sentence, as he wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. “I killed my girlfriend for cheating on me and breaking my heart...I couldn’t possibly put you through what I’ve been through.” he muttered back, burying his face in my hair. “Thank you...” was my last, very broken whisper, as I hurried out of there to tell Jolyne that we have full support from everyone.

---

For the rest of the week, the rest of us would meet up outside, in the courtyard, discussing what each of us has to do, all while Anasui kept me by his side or in his gaze range at all times, looking after me like a hawk, his excuse being that he didn’t want me to get hurt or something.

Getting this much attention was sure...Weird.

But as long as we get out of here...

And the worst thing was that...

His embraces were so fucking warm that I lost myself in them.

Because Anasui’s Stand was the strongest, while mine was the most versatile and could heal, it was decided that we would be the ones on the watchout and make sure everyone got out safely before us, which meant that we were in the most trouble...But as he assured me, he would protect me with his life...So, okay?

The big day came by sooner than expected, and the first to go were Jolyne and Hermes, to scout ahead and make sure no harm comes to Emporio, who’d be guarded by Foo and Weather, and then us, in the back, guarding the rear.

As I told them, the master of this prison, who was a Stand User, was going to come after us without a doubt, but what nobody was aware of was the Stand’s power, so we have to be constantly on alert, otherwise...Who knows what would happen.

“Narci...?” I asked in a hushed voice, afraid to attract attention to our hiding spot. “What is it?”  he grunted slightly. “What’s the first thing you want to do when you get out of here?” I looked at him timidly. “Dunno...I think I’ll kiss you.” he spoke to nonchalantly that it sent shivers down my spine. “Y-You can do that here too. I mean, like...When you’re free.” I pressed on, hoping to hear something more humane. “Then, I’ll get a job, get paid, and take you out on a proper date.” he smirked softly, watching my face turn red. “...You shouldn’t be so obsessed with me. You should think of yourself too. I-I really don’t get why you think I’m so great anyway. I mean, I got pity-dated before. A-And I got trophy-dated. And someone lied and covered his obsessive carnal needs under the pretext of loving me. So, uhm...I dunno...But if 3 people decided I’m that of a girlfriend...Maybe there must be some truth behind it. You should settle for someone like me.” I looked away from, feeling my heart ache like never before. “And you’re telling me that I deserved getting cheated on?” he asked in a mocking tone, making me jolt in my place and retort rather vehemently. “No, of course not! Nobody deserves something as cruel as that! Especially not you!” I refuted his statement, which only made him chuckle. “Then why would an angel like you deserve any less? Honestly, you got those fuckers get to your head and you lost all sense of self-worth. You see...I have this...Thing. For showing people important to me that they are special. And there you have your answer.” he stroked my hair gently, making me calm down a bit.

We stood in that comforting silence for a little longer, until we decided that we waited long enough, and we should move out... However, that was the perfect opportunity to get attacked by the enemy Stand User, as it got me by the throat, as I could only dangle my legs in mid air, trying to gasp for air, before darkness took over me and I felt myself hitting the ground.

---

When I woke up, however, I found myself in some kind of abandoned warehouse, where I hugged my knees tightly to myself, looking around, trying to see everything around that was illuminated by the dim, flickering lights.

I was alone.

And I was much too scared to move from the corner in which I was huddled in.

What was I supposed to do...?  I’m all alone. And I’m scared. Is this the work of an Enemy Stand User? Is this the work of the master of the Prison? Either way, I have no idea what to do.

This is the definition of “I’m screwed”.

As I tried to stop myself from crying, the door opened, and in front of me, with a huge, sadistic smirk, stood one my my exes, the one who still terrorizes my nightmares and who still keeps all my insecurities ablaze.

Wait, no...I’m wrong...

It’s not just one person...It’s all 3 of them, mashed together.

This can’t be...This is not normal, even for Stand powers...So what the hell...?

Wait...Did I just say...Nightmare?

Could this be a Nightmare? Could the Enemy Stand’s power be based on people’s worst fears?

Does that mean that Narciso is also witnessing and trying to fight his fears?

Oh goodness, if that’s true...I have to get out of here and help him...

I have to...I must...But why can’t I move my legs...? And why am I shaking like this? Is this also the work of the Stand?

Oh, no, silly me, this feeling is all too familiar to me...It’s fear. It’s helplessness.

I already know what’s gonna happen to me is inevitable...It already happened so many times times before...

He would pin me down, I would protest and try to fight back, and yet....

I didn’t realise how hard I was spiraling, until I heard a familiar voice, screaming out in despair...Almost like a wail...

That voice...It was Narciso.

I didn’t realise when I bolted to my feet, my Stand setting the monstrosity of my combined exes on fire, for the Divine Retribution, and I ran through the door, trying to follow his voice, only to find him on the ground, bloody, a version of myself and another woman, dressed both in skimpy clothes, standing over him with knives in their hands, wearing the same kind of sadistic grins as the horror in the other room.

The fire of rage ignited so hard in my heart that I set them both on fire, not even caring about my mirror image, and wrestling the knife out of their hands, I started stabbing them...

I was being blinded by anger...I never felt something like this in my life...It was absolutely terrifying...

But I had to save Narciso...And without him awake and safe, neither of us could get out of here.

I used my Stand’s Divine Redemption to start healing him up, but I couldn’t focus too much on that, as from the room in front of me, huge zombie-like abominations carrying chainsaws seemed to blindly approach our room.

I cursed myself for playing too much The Evil Within and Resident Evil, and I started dragging the semi-conscious man out of that room, using the 3rd door, only to find myself in a large room that had 2 ropes hanging from the wooden, most likely rotten beams above.

The only thing I could do was climb on the first rope while Lilium used the bottom part of it to make a swing-like knot, so I could sit, while I would use my arms to coil around the rope and drag myself up, along with Anasui on my lap, as closer to the top as possible, to avoid getting attacked, while Lilium would fight them, as much as she could, despite not being a powerful attack type, and my mental strength wavering from all the physical strength I was overusing.

“Narci...Narci, dear, please wake up...I don’t know how long I can keep this up...My arms are hurting so much...The rope is digging into my arms, making me bleed...And you’re so heavy...” I pleaded for him to wake up, seeing as one of the zombies got directly under us and used the chainsaw to cut at my thighs, making me scream in agony and force myself to climb further and further.

Lilium couldn’t take it...I couldn’t take it either...I was feeling my body beginning to lose all its strength...I was going to fall...

“Fuck...Did I make you cry, Y/Nick? Gosh, I’m such a failure as a man...And as your future husband. I will never forgive myself for making you protect me...When I should be to one to protect you.” he growled in anger and disappointment as he jumped off and started killing all of them with such ease, that it was almost with grace.

I finally felt myself beginning to calm down, the adrenaline rapidly disappearing, and I let go of the ropes, falling to the ground like a ragged doll, thanking every deity existent that we were both okay.

When he finished taking care of the enemies, he returned to me and falling to his knees, pulled me in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I fucked up. I don’t deserve to be your husband. I was weak, I couldn’t protect you when you needed me the most...I should have been there to save you, not the other way around...And because of me, you got hurt.” he growled, obviously hating himself for something like that. “Narci...Please don’t say that. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to escape my own room...And now, it was you who saved us, not me. You were the one to give me strength, so please, don’t be upset.” I threw my arms around his neck, cradling him. “I really don’t deserve an angel like you...” he muttered, which only made me scoff and pull him in a deep kiss, which made him widen his eyes in utmost shock. “You’re my husband, I won’t allow you to pull yourself down like that. You promised to stay by my side from now on, so do that! I need you NOW and I need you FOREVER, so don’t you dare go back on your promise, do you hear me, Narciso Anasui?!” I shook him by the shoulders lightly, as he could only nod, still in shock. “Let’s get out of here. We’re going home.” he said in a firm voice, picking me up bridal style, as we started looking for the way out.

The way out was actually killing all the monsters, which was much like a symbolism to killing our own nightmares and traumas, and in a way, it felt empowering to finally have someone by my side to help me go through the darker periods of my life.

And together, we succeeded, and found ourselves back to our hiding spot, with the master of the prison laying down in a pool of his own blood, dead.

Smiling at each other in accomplishment, we held hands, intertwining our fingers together, and ran the hell outta there to the meeting spot, where everyone was waiting for us a bit impatiently, but it all worked out, and we were taken away by the Speedwagon Foundation.

Jolyne and Emporio went to live with her family, Foo, Hermes and Weather got a house close by, while I and Anasui were lucky to get our own place, since we were ‘married’. To top it off, SPW provided us with jobs and the possibility to get any kind of degree we wanted, so of course, with my Stand ability, I chose Medicine, while Anasui chose something to his own strengths, so he chose Engineering, and thankfully enough, both jobs were rather profitable, so we could afford to pay back everything in a short time period.

Days, weeks, months passed, and living together with Anasui proved to be as natural as breathing, and our routine was making us forget about all the troubles we encountered during our lives.

Night time, however, proved to be much cruel, as nightmares were still plaguing us, playing on our insecurities, trying to weaken us...And I was already weak.

“It’s alright, darling, don’t worry, it was just a nightmare. I’m here now, calm down, it already passed.” Anasui pulled me in his arms, showering me with kisses all over my face, playing with my hair, the lights on to shoo away the nightmares. “Don’t leave me, Narci. Please don’t leave me. I’m so scared...I don’t think I could stay by myself. I love you, please don’t leave me.” I clinged to him, crying, not able to calm myself down. “I love you, Y/Nick. You are my wife, how could I leave you? I promised you, I would stay by your side for the rest of my life...Ah...Okay, fine, I was going to keep this until your birthday, but...” getting up from the bed, he went to the wardrobe and pulled out a little pink satin box, and got in front of me, kneeling, and looking at me with a tender expression. “I guess choosing the right time is better, especially if this will reassure you that I will never leave you, or cheat on you...Or anything. You have no idea of the effect you have on me...That you’ve always had, since we met that day. I need you more than you need me. I cling on the kindness and light that you show me, more than flowers lean towards the Sun and moths go towards the light. I love you, Y/N, and if you ever doubt it, I will be here to remind you that you are the most important being in my life and I will treasure you forever. Will you officially be my wife?” he confessed, a soft smile on his face, as I couldn’t stop myself from crying harder, nodding vigorously. “O-Of course! There’s nothing else that I’d want more than to spend the rest of my life together with you...I love you so much, Narci...I will never understand why you can hold so much love for me...But I’m the luckiest girl in the world. I don’t deserve you, but...But now you are my husband...And I’m so happy...I’m so happy, I don’t even have the words to express it...” I hid my face with my hands, to try to stop myself from blushing, but it was in vain.

Chuckling, Anasui got back on the bed, putting the ring on my finger and pulling me into another embrace, wiping my tears and kissing me passionately, then cuddled again, holding tightly to each other.

“I love you endlessly, Y/N.”

[dragonflylady77]

Neil gets what’s coming to him / dies a gruesome death fics - (a non-exhaustive list)

*disclaimer: I have read some of them, but not all of them so don't come at me. If you want me to add any to this list, send me an ask or a DM

Updated 4 October 2023 to say there is an event catering to this very special trope so go give @fallofneilhargrove a follow and read to your heart's content!! Here is the link for that collection on Ao3.

In no particular order:

ain't no rest for the wicked by desperat

Burying Monsters by Sir_Howdy

you can't cheat death when you're digging your own grave by @grabmyboner

cut the shit (handle it) by @holl0w-city

Seven Foot Wave, Six Feet Under (steddilly) by @writer-in-theory

No More Monster by @destroya2005

Forget About What Happened Here by @half-oz-eddie

The following by @bentnotbroken1fanfiction

Steve Goes To Jail AU

Max can't take it anymore

When Push Comes To Shove

The following by @lucdarling

stings like she means it (fear street crossover feat dead!neil)

kinktober 2020, chapter 19, poison (crime fam au)

Rumor Has It

Serious (as a heart attack)

Forged in Blood

the following fics by @dastardlydandelion

praefoco

tot acerba funera or, the ABCs of Neil Hargrove's death

edited + expanded supplicium (prompted by @keziahrain)

periculum in mora

dolor sicut ratio (the axe fics before axecution)

blasphemia(caos crossover, feat smooches with lilith)

axecution series

micis

nex

the gay garbage disposal au

famelicus(dark crack torture fic, dead dove: do not eat, pls read the notes + tags, billy’s mother/susan pwp)

repudium (solo susan pwp feat dead!neil, literal murder porn/gorn, also pls read the tags + notes)

[rockislandadultreads]

Non-fiction titles about Serial Killers, for any murderino

The Kill Jar: Obsession, Descent, and a Hunt for Detroit's Most Notorious Serial Killer by J. Reuben Appelman

Four children were abducted and murdered outside of Detroit during the winters of 1976 and 1977, their bodies eventually dumped in snow banks around the city. J. Reuben Appelman was six years old at the time the murders began and had evaded an abduction attempt during that same period, fueling a lifelong obsession with what became known as the Oakland County Child Killings. Autopsies showed the victims to have been fed while in captivity, reportedly held with care. And yet, with equal care, their bodies had allegedly been groomed post-mortem, scrubbed-free of evidence that might link to a killer. There were few credible leads, and equally few credible suspects. That’s what the cops had passed down to the press, and that’s what the city of Detroit, and J. Reuben Appelman, had come to believe. When the abductions mysteriously stopped, a task force operating on one of the largest manhunt budgets in history shut down without an arrest. Although no more murders occurred, Detroit and its environs remained haunted. The killer had, presumably, not been caught. Eerily overlaid upon the author’s own decades-old history with violence, The Kill Jar tells the gripping story of J. Reuben Appelman’s ten-year investigation into buried leads, apparent police cover-ups of evidence, con-men, child pornography rings, and high-level corruption saturating Detroit’s most notorious serial killer case.

Death in the Air: The True Story of a Serial Killer, the Great London Smog, and the Strangling of a City by Kate Winkler Dawson

London was still recovering from the devastation of World War II when another disaster hit: for five long days in December 1952, a killer smog held the city firmly in its grip and refused to let go. Day became night, mass transit ground to a halt, criminals roamed the streets, and some 12,000 people died from the poisonous air. But in the chaotic aftermath, another killer was stalking the streets, using the fog as a cloak for his crimes. All across London, women were going missing--poor women, forgotten women. Their disappearances caused little alarm, but each of them had one thing in common: they had the misfortune of meeting a quiet, unassuming man, John Reginald Christie, who invited them back to his decrepit Notting Hill flat during that dark winter. They never left. The eventual arrest of the "Beast of Rillington Place" caused a media frenzy: were there more bodies buried in the walls, under the floorboards, in the back garden of this house of horrors? Was it the fog that had caused Christie to suddenly snap? And what role had he played in the notorious double murder that had happened in that same apartment building not three years before--a murder for which another, possibly innocent, man was sent to the gallows? The Great Smog of 1952 remains the deadliest air pollution disaster in world history, and John Reginald Christie is still one of the most unfathomable serial killers of modern times. Journalist Kate Winkler Dawson braids these strands together into a taut, compulsively readable true crime thriller about a man who changed the fate of the death penalty in the UK, and an environmental catastrophe with implications that still echo today.

Hell's Princess: The Mystery of Belle Gunness, Butcher of Men by Harold Schechter

In the pantheon of serial killers, Belle Gunness stands alone. She was the rarest of female psychopaths, a woman who engaged in wholesale slaughter, partly out of greed but mostly for the sheer joy of it. Between 1902 and 1908, she lured a succession of unsuspecting victims to her Indiana “murder farm.” Some were hired hands. Others were well-to-do bachelors. All of them vanished without a trace. When their bodies were dug up, they hadn’t merely been poisoned, like victims of other female killers. They’d been butchered.

Hell’s Princess is a riveting account of one of the most sensational killing sprees in the annals of American crime: the shocking series of murders committed by the woman who came to be known as Lady Bluebeard. The only definitive book on this notorious case and the first to reveal previously unknown information about its subject, Harold Schechter’s gripping, suspenseful narrative has all the elements of a classic mystery—and all the gruesome twists of a nightmare.

Mad City: The True Story of the Campus Murders That America Forgot by Michael Arntfield

In fall 1967, friends Linda Tomaszewski and Christine Rothschild are freshmen at the University of Wisconsin. The students in the hippie college town of Madison are letting down their hair—and their guards. But amid the peace rallies lurks a killer.

When Christine’s body is found, her murder sends shockwaves across college campuses, and the Age of Aquarius gives way to a decade of terror.

Linda knows the killer, but when police ignore her pleas, he slips away. For the next forty years, Linda embarks on a cross-country quest to find him. When she discovers a book written by the murderer’s mother, she learns Christine was not his first victim—or his last. The slayings continue, and a single perpetrator emerges: the Capital City Killer. As police focus on this new lead, Linda receives a disturbing note from the madman himself. Can she stop him before he kills again?

Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History by Tori Telfer

When you think of serial killers throughout history, the names that come to mind are likely Jack the Ripper, John Wayne Gacy, and Ted Bundy. But what about Tillie Klimek, Moulay Hassan, and Kate Bender? The narrative we're comfortable with is one where women are the victims of violent crime-not the perpetrators. In fact, serial killers are thought to be so universally male that, in 1998, FBI profiler Roy Hazelwood infamously declared that There are no female serial killers. Inspired by Telfer's Jezebel column of the same name, Lady Killers disputes that claim and offers fourteen gruesome examples as evidence. Although largely forgotten by history, female serial killers rival their male counterparts in cunning, cruelty, and appetite. Each chapter explores the crimes and history of a different female serial killer and then proceeds to unpack her legacy and her portrayal in the media as well as the stereotypes and sexist cliches that inevitably surround her. When you think of serial killers throughout history, the names that come to mind are likely Jack the Ripper, John Wayne Gacy, and Ted Bundy. But what about Tillie Klimek, Moulay Hassan, and Kate Bender? The narrative we're comfortable with is one where women are the victims of violent crime-not the perpetrators. In fact, serial killers are thought to be so universally male that, in 1998, FBI profiler Roy Hazelwood infamously declared that There are no female serial killers. Inspired by Telfer's Jezebel column of the same name, Lady Killers disputes that claim and offers fourteen gruesome examples as evidence. Although largely forgotten by history, female serial killers rival their male counterparts in cunning, cruelty, and appetite. Each chapter explores the crimes and history of a different female serial killer and then proceeds to unpack her legacy and her portrayal in the media as well as the stereotypes and sexist cliches that inevitably surround her.

The Spider and the Fly: A Reporter, a Serial Killer, and the Meaning of Murder by Claudia Rowe

In September 1998, young reporter Claudia Rowe was working as a stringer for the New York Times in Poughkeepsie, New York, when local police discovered the bodies of eight women stashed in the attic and basement of the small colonial home that Kendall Francois, a painfully polite twenty-seven-year-old community college student, shared with his parents and sister. Growing up amid the safe, bourgeois affluence of New York City, Rowe had always been secretly fascinated by the darkness, and soon became obsessed with the story and with Francois. She was consumed with the desire to understand just how a man could abduct and strangle eight women—and how a family could live for two years, seemingly unaware, in a house with the victims’ rotting corpses. She also hoped to uncover what humanity, if any, a murderer could maintain in the wake of such monstrous evil. Reaching out after Francois was arrested, Rowe and the serial killer began a dizzying four-year conversation about cruelty, compassion, and control; an unusual and provocative relationship that would eventually lead her to the abyss, forcing her to clearly see herself and her own past—and why she was drawn to danger.

[izartn]

MDZS JGY fic promt

I’m thinking about Meng Yao/Jin Guangyao and I think I would love to read a fic of him snapping in the opposite direction of his desperate grab for power and respect from his shit father. We know, thanks to JGS gruesome murder that at some point, after already being a shitty human doing murdery things, JGY snapped hard and said: “if i’m gonna do the shitty things of running this sect i’ll do them for myself and fuck you to death”. Quite literally. 

So I’d like to imagine a world where he, like, not necessary becomes a much better person; I dunno about the JZX and WWX kill plot, or about NMJ. I think he’s very set in his auto-preservating self-beneficing ways, and if you don’t really work well with that part of his chara then he’s not JGY anymore. 

But instead of being, I’ll become the highest in the cultivation world, so i will be finally respected and listened to (uhm, didnt’ work especially well did it? they never let him forget his mother profession when it was his father who was the absolute worst) he decides that while cultivation is still something to aspire to -can’t forget about his mother dying dream, also longer life and health benefits + being a hero, doing the decent thing- he realises the cultivation sect system as it is horrible. 

He was in the middle of the war, he saw it from both sides. He then went to low to high but still a servant. And it’s always blood what counts. He sees what happens to his other bastard brothers, to WWX when he decides enough is enough, and how he himself is still treated by his Sect despite his intelligence and abilities. And instead of trying to take refuge in the system, he is a bit more self-aware or inquiring; maybe he is more idealistic in some ways? But still oh so bitter, and decides to destroy the system from within.

You know what? Do it so he still rises to Leader of the Jin Sect (without prostitutes murdering and necrophilia; he is now more on the side of the common, so maybe he gets the help of Sisi or someone he knows to aid him poison his father and after he gets them a nice reward and packs them to a new life in Japan or something. Or he simply uses another subtle method without intermediaries or with unaware ones, he is certainly able of doing that when he isnt being an ironic murderer shit.) because it’ll serve him, and to be the leader responsible of making sure the so estimated Jin blood is disposesed will make him smug pleased. To slowly gain power and bit by bit erase the division between the noble clans and people who learn simply bcs of talent, scouting youngsters witht the excuse of replenishing the clans after the war and quiting the idiots nobles from their spoiled positions. 

Hell you can even make LXC and NMJ (did he died before or after JGY becomes Sect Leader? Well if he is still alive, NHS doesn’t destroy him, but then WWX doesn’t come back. If he dies before, then the vengeance is still in play, but it’ll be even more fraughted bcs now JGY goals and methods are a lot more morally grey and watching WWX and LWJ confront that would be super interesting O-O), you can make them see those policies and be like, oh sure, that’s a good thing you’re doing A-yao. But also conflict with their positions in the nobility system, as time pases and JGY subtly passes more changes and brings to ruin those sect leaders more entrenched in the old ways and abusing of their people.

 Programs for literacy, for the spread of knowledge and the civil use of cultivation techniques with the excuse of avoiding beforehand the formation of ghosts and resentment appealing to the lazy nature of the rich while eliminating bit by bit the necessity of their existence, like boiling a frog, the creation of the watchtowers still fits nicely and we know in canon he faced oppposition there so here it’s more important still, even more so Su She I think, will be elated with this turn of events and even more loyal lmao if JGY sells it well and JGY sells his ideas really well. 

Maybe he helps XXC and SL bcs it’s in his interest they find success although he finds them naive; but JGY has a canon soft spot for people who treat him well regardless of his common born status, so. Maybe he intercedes with XY and convinces him to work with him taking out nobles reasonably (I bet XY will like that), and manages to avoid somehow XY elaborated revenge on SL and XXC? or executes him when he is too much of a wild card, but we know how that ended in canon... The best bet is making XY see on his own best interest to help in JGY vision but that’s well. almost crack fic lmao. 

OH! Maybe he finds XY before the massacre of the Chang clan bcs he is searching for someone to help him above table and gets to him by offering a more subtle but still suitable appropriate revenge with the pro bonus of getting to do the same to others after and access to WWX manuscripts. You know this has a much higher chance of working, let’s go with this scenario. So he keeps XY out of his father reach, when he is searching for someone to gain control of the stygian seal and wen ning. Yeah, this will appeal immensely to JGY xD

You know, and JGY being beloved by the people, and having more than a facade of being just or fair, but proving it although it isn't in the interest of the nobles. And as he is politics savvy, although with more effort he could certainly make it so he avoids assassinations or walking in a minefield like wwx etc. 

Depending on the NMJ situation... You could make it so NMJ doesn’t die and then they enter a stalemate of grudging respect bcs JGY wants more an ally in swaying people for his cause than his revenge, although he sure could make non lethal things to inconvenience NMJ lol. And NHS as sect leader wouldn’t have the same power to his decisions and reach, no matter if he is more manipulable; after all isn’t NHS a pampered noble in JGY eyes? Who could be sure if he even would follow JGY anyways... 

And you could give it different endings depending on the development of JGY: a success where he gets to the point were factually the sects aren’t bloods based anymore, just a few like the lan (those traditionalists lol) resisting an unavoidable wave of change taht comes for everybody, and the money doesn’t flow in their pockets like a river to the ocean but instead it goes back to the people. 

You could make it so it’s a partial success bcs JGY is still himself and does more than a few morally grey things that come to light with the NMJ murder reveal, but his changes linger and the common people plus others of the same ideal now trained and in process of being cultivators won’t let themselves be cowered by the awful nobility -another big conflict breeding, and maybe it won’t be successful but people have long memories and books and the new ideals of equality would spread regardless, so it would start again and again each time a bit better-. I think WWX POV in this case would be delicious omg, LXC conflict even more pointed. This would be, I think the more realistic and interesting to write take on the idea. Iand you now, I’m in favor of a novel setting and characterization, but to make it more painful, use the 16 gap of the show and nothing else (i haven’t see the show beyond the first episodes bcs i couldn’t take it lol)  so JGY has more time to make changes. 

You could make a downer ending (this I wouldn’t like lmao, but it’s there) so that shows the cruelty and inability of making changes to something so integrated and supported by itself, that JGY loses much to his revenge he takes more and more radical actions that come back to bit his ass with NMJ and JGS murder revelation. I think XY in here would be appropriate, in an antagonist role as in MDZS. But it still has an impact; JGY’s life, despite his faults was still more inspirational, made better impact than his canon self. Make it poetically tragic and a comment on the futility of trying to change society by oneself, but find beauty in the attempt itself which has created community, which will in the future do the true work of overthrowing the yokes of the high ups, educating and helping each other in their messy human lives.

All this ending, and JL conflict, who at this point has learnt much at his uncle JGY side, who has decided to (dunno about marrying QS and A-Song’s death. depending on your take and ending it’ll have different impact) go on with his labor bc he sees the good on it and swears to not be like the worst of JGY. A legacy he can reconcile with himself thanks too, to the experience of meeting WWX. JL is in a more fraught position with JC in this verse, I think, bc for one, he is more mature/not so spoiled and that would make JC glad, but his ideas are at the same time understable and anatema to JC who puts so much of his life on honoring the clan on making sure the Jiang carry on and his name isn’t forgotten but who recruited from nothing during the war. Who sees the danger in alienating the powers of the cultivation sects bc he saw what it did to WWX and he believes in protecting his own and to hell with the rest. 

So very interesting!!! 

You could spin so many takes from this, it’d be so fascinating and satisfying. I’d love to see the chara of JGY developed in this direction, bcs he has so much potential to waste it in so petty goals. His ambition is certainly big enough to believe he will damn well do a silent revolution well. 

Just, using the classics to argue for equality and education and a good life even if you’re a peasant, using the cultivation basis and its suppose use to better oneself and the world in making a point of avoiding wars and violent retribution (to the public, he’s still a bit of an hypocrit bcs it serves him well to have a stick with which to beat his enemies lmao) and instead use diplomacy and a sort of rehabilitation or service thing. Because those ideas are there, in the different clasics and schools of thought (not confucianism, not as much) it’s just that the nobles and high scholars were never interested and used them to argue for a sort of natural hierarchy were they’re in top. 

 Let JGY create a new school of thought, and LXC and others seeing the merit on it. JGY has the reach and the intelligence and the ability. 

The best revenge is living well and destroying the system which allowed the other to harm you, the ideas, the means. Create a fantasy fulfillment ^^

[forthegothicheroine]

Dear 2020 Yuletide Author...

Hey, I’m RobberBaroness on AO3, and thank you so much for offering one of my fandoms!  I say that every year but I especially mean it this time, since I picked more obscure stuff than usual.  Now, let’s get to it!

General likes: Fairy tales, gothic literature, film noir, revenge tragedies, bodice rippers, melodrama, dark comedy, heroine/villain/hero love triangles, heroine/villain dynamics, rescue romance, mythology, maledom (non and dubcon are welcome), bdsm, bondage, character studies, what-if AUs, genre swapping AUs, vampires, folklore, knight and lady dynamics, epistolary fic,  interactive fiction.

DNWs: Pushing away female characters, fetish universes, character bashing, fully mundane AUs for fantastical settings, unrequested identity headcanons, Christmas or other Christian holiday-themed fic, abrupt character death (character death fully earned and explored is fine), a focus on bodily fluids or byproducts in porn.

I’m open to both Crueltide and Yuleporn, but I’m also okay with getting neither of those.

Waxwork (1988)

Sarah, China, Dracula, Marquis de Sade

Such a fun, silly movie!  And absolutely perfect for anyone who likes to read or write Problematic Fanfiction.  You can write about all four of those characters, or just focus on one of the two heroine/villain ships (China/Dracula or Sarah/de Sade.)  The movie (and its sequel) have lots of references and homages to classic horror movies, so that would be fun to see here!  In any case, this is a great place to pile on all the gothic tropes and aesthetics your heart desires.

Some ideas:

Sarah and China are very much positioned as the Virgin and the Whore, respectively, but surely there must be some more to their characters than that!  What if they were the two survivors who had to rally troops of monster-hunters against the forces of darkness?  (Mark can be there too if you want, I have nothing against him.)  How would Sarah deal with being put in a position of leadership?  How would China deal with having to think about the well-being of people other than herself?

Tell me about the women whose situations the girls found themselves in, Dracula’s victim and the Marquis’ plaything.  Tell me how they ended up in those situations.  Alternately, what if they found themselves in America in the 1980s when Sarah and China took their places?

Explore the darkly sexy situations Sarah and/or China were in if the camera hadn’t cut away (China) or Mark hadn’t been there to rescue them (Sarah.)  Straightforward porny stuff is fine, or you could spin it into a full story of the aftermath.  (I know the Marquis plans to whip Sarah to death, but I’d rather that didn’t happen- he can spare her life or she can escape, whatever you want.)  This can be a seductive dom-sub scene, full on noncon, or anything in between.

Dracula and/or the Marquis de Sade don’t get killed and have to adapt to the modern era.  Will China and/or Sarah pledge themselves to hunting them down, or grudgingly and grumblingly help them adjust?

The sequel has characters hopping between times and alternate universes, so if you want to bring that into the events of the first movie, that could be fun.  Sarah and China find themselves running from one sexy horror movie scene to the next, having to deal with a whole range of hot villains interested in them!

Dragonwyck (1946)

Nicholas Van Ryn, Miranda Wells

I love Vincent Price and I love Gene Tierney, and I really love them together.  Movie Nicholas seems a lot less cold-hearted than his book counterpart, and I think he probably was in love with Miranda before grief over his son’s death and opium addiction drove him mad.  (Which is not to excuse murdering his first wife- he’s still a very bad man!)  Another thing I like about the movie adaptation is that there’s a lot less blame put on Miranda for daring to want to leave the farm, and an understanding of why she’d be dazzled by the Van Ryn’s lives.  For this canon, I’d really like to explore more of Nicholas and Miranda’s relationship, doomed though it may be.

Some ideas:

Seduction!  Either before or after their marriage, Nicholas tempts Miranda with the pleasures of sin.  This can involve sex, or just sensual pleasures (kisses, fine wine, scandalous poetry.)

Is there any way Nicholas and Miranda could have had a happy ending?  If he and his first wife had divorced (with all the trouble that would have caused at the time), if he hadn’t accused her of being barren, if he had gotten better after their marriage instead of worse?

A darker look at their relationship, with obsession and possessiveness and madness inspired by beauty.  (Would rather this didn’t involve physical abuse, but sexual or psychological is okay.)

What if Nicholas had tried to corrupt Miranda to be his partner in crime?  Would she have stood firm against his temptations, or find herself weakening towards sin?

Revenger’s Tragedy (2003)

Gloriana, Vindice, the Duke, Lussurioso

I know for sure one kind of fic I’d want- Gloriana lives fic!  I’m very sweet on Vindice’s devotion to her, and I’d like to know more about the woman herself!  (I once saw someone call her a Mary Sue, which baffles me- how can she be a Mary Sue if all we know about her is that she was pretty and nice?)  Mind you, this doesn’t necessarily mean a nice and happy story.  The bloodthirsty nature of Revenger’s Tragedy is one of the reasons I love it, after all!  If you don’t want to write that main prompt, you could write something where any of the nominated characters reflects on Gloriana, or where the revenge plays out in a different fashion.  You can come up with something gruesome enough for a Jacobean playwright, I believe in you!

You can write these stories without Lussurioso, but he’s fun if you do include him.

Some ideas:

Instead of poisoning Gloriana, the Duke drugs her for his own ends.  Or, if you don’t want to get that dark, he does poison her but she survives after a period of illness.  Either way, she joins Vindice in his crusade of revenge.

Role reversal!  When the Duke makes a pass at Gloriana, Vindice interferes and gets killed for his efforts.  Now Gloriana is the one setting out to destroy the entire ruling family.

The movie seems to take place in a vaguely post-apocalyptic setting, so dig into that if you like.  Worldbuild away, so long as you include the characters!

For any of the above scenarios, what part might Lussurioso play?  Would he take over as the main villain after his father is dealt with, or could disgust towards his family’s actions (which he does seem to canonically show) lead to him rethinking his life and switching sides?

[australian-desi]

Asur - Review/Reaction

Okay so I loved it! This show has changed me as a person somehow. But honestly speaking it was fucked (some people said more fucked than sacred games but I dont watch that so I dont have a reference). The background of Hindu mythology was used amazingly and holy shit the actors. Guys the actors need a round of applause coz they were simply amazing. I’m still shaking after watching the last episode I literally finished the show in 1.5 days so like safe to say I was hooked. I would also like to say that the show itself was very well paced, at no point did I think that the story was going too slow or too fast, everything was perfectly timed and perfectly revealed. I will be cutting this post for a more in-depth review - and after the cut everything are 

Also before you guys watch - this show is very dark - it depicts suicidal tendencies, gory murders and gruesome scenes - things that will make you lowkey vomit (I have a pretty high tolerance for these things so I was fine, but just in case you aren’t it’s good to know coz they spring those up on you) 

SPOILLLLERRRRSSSSS

Actors/Characters: 

Arshad Warsi as Dhananjay ‘DJ’ Rajpoot: This is the first time I’ve seen Arshad Warsi in a non-comic role, and I was honestly truly blown away. He was simply amazing. Now coming to character. The main message of this show was that ‘evil lives in all of us’. But the way they revealed it was quite phenomenal. DJ is shown to be the ‘innocent’ ‘good guy’ and how is was wrongfully framed for his wife’s murder, but is still working to find the actual serial killer - not because to save himself, but in order to save other people. It is then shown, that he had done something ‘bad’ ‘immoral’ and ‘wrong’ in his life - 10 years ago he caused a 15-year-old to go to jail rather than a juvenile detention centre for the murder of his father. He did this by faking his birth certificate and forging evidence - since there was no evidence to connect the child to the murder (but the audience knows that he did it). Thus, begins the game for his repentence. 

Barun Sobti as Nikhil Nair: So here’s the ting - I genuinely forget how good of an actor our boi is (don’t blame me I’ve spent the last 8 years, watching him go “what the” and “Khushi Kumari Gupta”, throwing anger fits and tantrums), but holy shit I was blown away. Barun has this ability to make his audience feel every emotion he’s going through - anger, sadness, despair, happiness, joy, relief - everything, he is a brilliant actor. Nikhil was an amazing character. He was an all-in-all protagonist. He had a loving relationship with his wife and a daughter that he loved very much. However, when he is kidnapped by the serial killer himself - he is given an option - to either let his wife and kid die, or become an accomplice to murder, where he meticulously plans the murder and the killer goes and does the job. He chooses the latter, thus, blurring the line between good and bad. It is also interesting considering the man that saved lives ended up taking them. The final test for him is when in order to save three hostages, he is asked to sacrifice his daughter. He does that and it is shown that due to the trauma they have faced, one of the hostages shoots the other, making Nikhil regret his decision instantly - the killer thus proving his point, human nature is evil, that even the good turn to evil in hardship. Nikhil blames DJ’s deeds for his daughter’s death, and Naina leaves him, blaming him for their daughter’s death. 

Ridhi Dogra as Nusrat Saeed: Nusrat is shown to be the ex-gf/ex-love etc. of Nikhil, before he left CBI without telling her about where he was going and for how long. In all these years she has been unable to move on from him and has replaced her love life with work as a forensics expert. She is shown to be very talented in her job and is shown to have a friendly relationship with everyone - although, in a hallucination, Nikhil is shown to feel guilty for what he did to her and deep down does love her, but loves his wife more 

Anupriya Goenka as Naina Nair: Naina is shown to be a doting mother, and a loving wife, who has issues that although her husband loves her very much, wants to rejoin the CBI, even if he has to leave her for it. She ends up going to him and is shown to be a very talented software engineer working in cyber-security. She then ends up helping the CBI in order catch the killer 

Vishesh Bansal as 15-year-old Shubh Joshi: This kid holy shit. I watched him in IPPKND as Aarav and some other serials here and there, but man he blew me away. Like I was sitting there shook half the time as to how can someone be this talented. Now Shubh Joshi was who this story was about - the asura, the rakshas, the one who was awaiting for Vishnu to return on this Earth to vanquish him. When Shubh’s mother was pregnant with him, his father the head priest wanted a ‘devta-like putra’ he wanted a god on the form of the Earth to the point, he made his kundli in advance and did not allow for his wife to give birth until the right month. He failed, as his wife slipped down the stairs, and ended up giving birth 2 days before he wanted her to. She gave birth in the month in which demons were said to be born. Thus, Shubh turned out to be extraordinary - he learnt how to walk at 2 days old, he was able to read the scriptures by the time he was 3, and had an IQ of above 160. His dad used to curse him, beat him, and call him an ‘asur’ to the point he started believing it. When his grandfather took him to the psychologist - he was diagnosed with autism, causing him to not have the same social skills and unable to connect with others as well as other kids. His father’s abuse caused his brain to become extremely violent, and it is then shown that he goes to a skeleton and breaks its index finger, then finding a dog and burning it alive, with no emotion. At 15 he poisons his father causing his father to fall into the river to his death - he drops the lota in which he was poisoning him with getting rid of the evidence. However, DJ sees this, and sees no remorse for his father’s death, he seems unaffected by it, and continues on his day as normal. DJ then fakes evidence and his birth report - causing him to go to jail rather than receive therapy and counselling for a better future. In jail he becomes a leader - he is able to convince people to let the evil in them take over the good because that’s what human tendency is. It is what we are meant to do and that those who do not entertain the evil in them, deserve to die. 

Amey Wagh as present-day Shubh Joshi: Gonna say it here - A+ casting. He looks exactly how you would expect Shubh Joshi to look when he is older. So Shubh Joshi is now a serial killer - who kills people from the horoscope of greatness, people who do good deeds - he does this to send a message to Vishnu to come on earth and now thinks of himself to be mighty and powerful as an asur should be. He is shown to now have a huge following to the point where Nikhil and DJ all think of him to look different, but he instead, is their coworker, Rasool Sheikh the hacker in the CBI. As he is quiet and aloof, no one suspects him, and thus, he is able to conduct these murders with absolute precision of planning. When Lolark finds out that he is the real Shubh, he ends up killing him, right after his child’s death and the CBI arrest the wrong Shubh who was shown to be Kesari - the first follower of Shubh in jail. The show ends when Shubh looks deep into DJ’s eyes reminding him of his 15-year-old self, causing DJ to realise he is indeed the real Shubh. 

The rest of the cast and crew were equally amazing but I just mentioned the main ones otherwise we’ll be here for days 

Things I liked: 

I loved the use of Hindu mythology, they also narrated some stories in Shubh’s POV questioning whether the gods were always right - was Vishnu right into tricking the asur’s into their death for no reason, was Krishna right, knowing about the war and not being able to stop it? 

Also loved how in depth the characters were - Shubh was horrible in what he did, but by writing in a way that if the things that happened to him hadn’t had happened owing to his developmental disorder he would’ve been a ‘good’ person. 

The fact that it wasn’t Shubh’s complete fault that he thought this way, and the fact he had autism + the system really failing him showed us that not all bad people are born bad - sometimes situations make them that way. And some don’t even know the difference between the right and wrong choice - what if some people do truly think evil is bad. 

I loved the concept of the main protagonists being good people but being pushed to embrace the evil - especially when Nikhil, who thought he did a good deed by saving the hostages to prove to Shubh that inherently good people do truly exist and he sees one of the hostages kill the other - truly shakes this belief. It shows that even after being forced to accomplice to murders - he still had hope, a hope that was brutally crushed 

I loved the cast as well, they all had good chemistry and Barun and Arshad were amazing. 

Things I disliked: 

The female characters weren’t explored at all. Nusrat’s whole arc revolved around Nikhil and finding the killer’s. There were some episodes where she wasn’t even there. And a lot of her character was an accessory to Nikhil’s and DJ’s characters. On the other hand, Naina’s character was only a mother and a wife. In fact she joins the CBI to help them find her husband, she isn’t even leading the investigation or anything. Also in the first half of the show she was truly very annoying and just deserved better in general rather than just being the parallel love interest. They should’ve done more with the female characters. What was stopping them from being as brilliant or as great as the male characters. Nikhil and DJ were described as geniuses and out of this world. While Nusrat just helped. 

The amount of Shuddh hindi - I know he’s a pandit’s son and his whole thing is religion he will talk in Shuddh hindi. But honestly, I wish they gave english translations or show it with pictures or something else coz it was very very very hard for me to understand some things and I lost a lot of context 

That is all - enjoy this review hopefully I didn’t spoil the whole show (I definitely did), and have a great day