#in a bind to try to piece it together again no matter how i try it and i shouldn’t try anyway. but i am so tempted to rn. lol

[pepprs]

idk how to reconcile my new self with my old self. also i fucking hate waiting. GRAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[blitzyn]

pervert

miguel o'hara x spiderman!reader

request : none

Synopsis: A game of cat and mouse goes to shit, and you find yourself bound in Miguel's webs.

a/n -> literally nobody asked for this but he's been stuck in my mind for decades and i wanted to get something out for my bbg <3 also super sorry i disappeared again, writers block straight up bitch slapped me and left me in a ditch, plus ive been losing interest in writing for genshin or just the game in general, unfortunately.

wc -> 3.3k

cw -> very dubcon, mean dom miguel, degradation, bondage?, face fucking, google translated spanish, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, slight and brief choking, (semi) public sex??, not beta read

Exhilaration filled your veins as breathy laughs escaped your throat, weaving through buildings and rubble with the precision of someone who has experienced this type of chase countless times before.

And that's because you have. You've been in a near never-ending game of cat and mouse with the esteemed Miguel O'Hara, always close enough to feel the swipe of his talons in the air but too far to catch. No matter how many times he's cornered you, you always find a way to get past him; it was predictable at this point.

That pissed Miguel off like no other, hellbent on capturing you to put an end to your snide remarks, to put you in your place. While that usually would've enticed you in any other circumstance, you weren't too keen on letting him dig his claws into you now that you were chest-deep in this predicament — and his wrath.

"Stop running, already!" he shouted, the sharp edges of fury evident in his voice.

"I'm not running!" you respond, peering back at him with a smug grin. True to your words, you, quite literally, were not running. You were swinging with the agility of a seasoned acrobat, twisting and flipping through debris while looking like you were having fun. You offered him occasional glances and nearly laughed each time. Seeing him, a grown-ass man, almost constantly on all fours was amusing, but hearing him curse and grunt and growl made electricity shoot down your spine in a way that nearly got you caught several times.

Adrenaline filled your body and threatened to burst through your chest each time you evaded him. "Missed me!" you laughed, juking away from his swipe.

"So close!" you flip over him with a taunt. "Try again next time!"

"¡Voy a matarte!¹" He growls, and it was hard to ignore the shudder that rushed through your body. You slightly winced at the feeling. If you don't get your shit together when he spoke Spanish, then you were asking to get caught.

But it's not like you'd mind — Actually, yes, you fucking would!

You click your teeth in annoyance. Despite how hard you tried, you couldn't remove Miguel from your thoughts even though he was right behind you, hunting you down like a wild animal. Your mind strayed toward his broad shoulders, beautifully tiny waist, fat ass (that you'd give a lot to slap), and the massive piece of rubble being hurled at your body.

You blink out of your stupor, feeling your senses going off rather violently. Oh shit.

Everything seemed to move painfully slow as you stared at the debris with wide eyes, noticing Miguel's red web attached to it as he brought it down. You flung your arm out in an attempt to attach your webs to something and swing away, but was unable to pull yourself fast enough as the debris pinned you down to the roof of a building.

"Fuck!" you thought as you grunted and squeezed your eyes shut, agony tearing through your entire body. Swiftly, you pushed against the ground to shove the heavy object off of you, groaning with effort. Just as you managed to stand back up, you heard the familiar thwip! of his web wrapping around your waist and arms to yank you to him.

"Caught you," he said, voice rough and breathless as he panted hard. He loomed over you menacingly, hands curled into a fist.

You struggled, kicking and straining against your binds. "Come on, Miguel." You offer a tense grin. "We both know this won't last very long."

"Ay dios míos,²" he growled, dropping to a knee to roughly press a hand on your face, his fingers digging into your cheekbones. "¡Cállate!³"

...

Woah.

You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling your cock stir in your pants. Oh fuck.

It was hard to ignore your ever growing attraction (and hard-on) for him that seemed to intensify when he deactivated the hologram of his mask. Sweat beaded at his temple while his eyes narrowed at your bound figure, fangs peeking out from behind his lips as he caught his breath.

Even when you were the target of his anger, he was still breathtakingly hot.

You opened your mouth again to shout at him — probably to let you go or something along those lines — but Miguel wasn't having it.

"Why is it so much to ask for you to keep your fucking mouth shut for once?" he hissed, squeezing your cheeks tight enough to ache, but it only went straight to your dick. "Is that all you can do? Run your mouth until someone gets sick of your shit and shuts it for you? Huh?"

You whimpered, meekly shaking your head in denial. Tightly closing your eyes, you swallowed hard and squirmed, secretly trying to will away your hard cock straining against your clothes.

"You're so annoying! Stop moving," he demanded, reflexively looking down to adjust his position over you. His eyes raked over your body for a moment before zeroing in on your erection, pausing in surprise.

.

..

...

"Oh, you pervert."

Your eyelids snapped open at his words, mortification seeping deep in your chest as you shifted your head away from him in shame. Despite everything, you could only feel yourself getting harder under his intense gaze.

"Is that why you made me chase after you?" He forced you to look at him again, your face aching at his manhandling. "Because you wanted to fulfill some dirty fantasy of yours?"

He let out a dry laugh. "You couldn't find anyone willing to satisfy that depraved urge, so you turned to me. Just how desperate are you?"

You shook your head again, letting out muffled words. He mercifully removed his hand from your mouth to allow you to speak, sliding lower to rest on your throat. "I was just playing..."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head mockingly, momentarily adjusting himself to grope your painfully stiff dick. "And this was your master plan? To get off at the face of danger? You're more of a degenerate than I thought."

"N-No, I didn't—" you moaned, reflexively bucking your hips up into his hand.

"Stop lying." He squeezed the hand around your throat just enough to force labored gasps from you. "It's stupid how you don't think I've seen the way you look at me — how you think I haven't noticed you eyefucking me."

A furious blush rises on your cheeks as your cock twitches in his hold. It doesn't go unnoticed.

He laughed again, staring at you in mock disbelief. "You're enjoying this."

And this time, you don't deny it.

"Can't say I expected anything higher from you." He rolled his eyes in exasperation and removed his hands from your throat and dick to place them on your thighs. Effortlessly, he pried them apart to slot himself in between your legs, pressing his crotch flush against your ass.

Groaning, you lifted your hips a bit in an attempt to grind on him. With a growl, he swiftly slapped a hand on your abdomen to push you back on the ground.

"Don't move," he said, glaring at you with a mix of arousal and irritation in his eyes. "I've had enough of you getting your way." He leaned forward, a wince crossing your face when he pressed some of his weight onto your stomach. "It's my turn."

"My way—?" You cut yourself off with a huff when he gave you a stern look.

A thought seemed to pique his interest when he suddenly decided to kneel beside your head. It was nigh impossible to tear your eyes away from his crotch, the area beginning to glitch with a dim, pale blue glow at the strain from his hardening cock.

"Let's put your mouth to better use." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and deactivated the hologram covering his dick. It landed on your face with a quiet slap before his hand guided it to your lips.

You hesitantly parted them, only for them to be forced open wider to make room for his cock. You let out a surprised sound at the entry, but he was entirely focused on making you take him completely.

He was gracious enough to take it slow, relishing in the sounds of your gags and sputters and every deep inhale.

"Thaaat's it," he drawled out, sighing heavily when he felt your tongue rub against the underside of the shaft. "Fuck..."

Your eyelashes fluttered as he buried your nose into his pubic hair, uncontrollably drooling over him while you sucked and licked what you could. You felt him harden in your mouth, forcing himself deeper into your throat while it tightened and spasmed.

He increased the speed of his thrusts, absentmindedly shuffling closer to your face. A shiver ran down your spine when he slithered a hand on the junction between the back of your head and neck to hold you firmly.

A garbled whine left your throat as you subconsciously jerked your hips upwards, searching for some form of relief for your aching cock. You strained against the webs around your torso and arms, utterly intoxicated with his taste, his scent, his sounds—with him.

With a groan, he shoved himself as far as he could inside your throat and held you in place, ignoring how you instinctively struggled against him. A high-pitched ring sounded through your ears as your head spun, chest tightening with the need for oxygen.

Shuddering, he finally pulled out of you, watching with satisfaction as you coughed and gasped for air. A mix of saliva and precum connected your lips and the tip of his cock, to which you quickly licked away. You let him inspect you with a hand still buried in your hair, gaze locked in on your drool slicked chin and swollen lips.

A quiet hmph left him before he turned to place himself back in-between your thighs again, this time extending his talons to tear a path in your clothes from your ass to your crotch.

"H-Hey! Hold on—" you protested and kicked his arm away from you.

"Shut up," he cut you off, swatting your foot away while grasping your painfully hard cock again. "Don't act like you don't want this."

"G-God..." you moaned, furrowing your brows as you stared at him. A squeak left your throat when he suddenly pressed your legs to your chest, a quiet ptuh! escaping his lips alongside a glob of saliva that landed on your asshole.

Retracting his talons, he let go of one of your legs to press two fingers against your hole, shoving them inside you abruptly. You winced at the sting his thick fingers made as it mixed in with the arousal that burned in your gut. He separated them in a scissoring motion, moving in and out at a pace that had you yearning for more. His fingertips brushed against spots so frustratingly close to your prostate, you were sure he was purposefully avoiding it to mess with you.

"H-Hurry up," you demanded, the ache in your balls beginning to prove to be something you could hardly handle.

He gave you a sharp look. "Tell me to hurry up again and I'm leaving you like this."

You stared at each other for a moment longer before you looked away in defeat, muttering under your breath. He ignored you and added another finger, the wet squelching blending in with your soft moans. His hard cock pressed on your thigh, and you briefly wondered how he wasn't fucking you within an inch of your life already.

Quickly enough, you were able to realize that he wanted to make you wait. He wanted to give you a hard time — just like you did to him.

"C-C'mon, Miguel." You breathlessly chuckled, straining against the webs around your torso.

"What?" He raised a brow, satisfaction seeping into his expression at your growing desperation.

You opened your mouth again when he unexpectedly jabbed his fingertips onto your prostate, sending a violent surge of electricity through your body. "Fuck!" You cried out as a spurt of precum leaked out of your dick and enlarged the wet spot on your clothes. He continued targeting the gland, refusing to let you get a word in your sentence. The coil in your abdomen tightened into an almost unbearable degree before he abruptly removed his hand from you entirely.

"God, just fuck me already!" You jerked your hips upwards in a futile search for stimulation.

"You sound just like a whore," he commented, tone full of condescension. A heat washed over your body at his words as you stared at him with wide eyes. You tensed when he leaned down, lust and mirth swirling within his red irises. "Is that all you are?"

"What?" You found yourself unable to look away from him. "N-No, I—"

He shoved his cock inside you mid-sentence, tearing a loud moan from your throat. He held your thighs to fold you in half, using his body weight to pin you down. You panted hard as you tilted your head to the side and squeezed your eyes shut. It was hard to focus on anything else but his dick filling you up so perfectly.

Miguel released a gutteral groan, grinding his hips against you. He dug his fingertips into your legs hard enough to bruise, but that was the least of his worries — not when he had you below him. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned back (mercifully removing some of the pressure on your chest) and watched himself move in and out of you, pulling out almost all the way before he slammed himself back inside.

"Ohh, fuck!"

"This is what gets you — mierda⁴ — all compliant, huh?" He taunted, abdomen flexing with every thrust. "The moment you get some dick inside you, you're like a trained mutt."

You opened your eyes to weakly glare at him, to deny what he said, but the moans spilling from your lips did nothing but prove him right.

"Te gusta cuando te trato como si no fueras nada, ¿no?⁵" He leaned back down, hooking his arms around the back of your knees as he pressed his chest against yours, curling his wrists around your thighs to grip the flesh. His breath was hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, lips so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice in your ear drum. "Aren't I right, you dirty little pervert?"

"N-No! S'not right!" You cried out, the burn of his cock stretching you out mixing in with the pleasure so deliciously it was almost addicting.

"Deja de mentirte y admítelo, puta,⁶" he hissed, widening his mouth to graze a fang along your neck threateningly, which sent a shiver down your spine. "Admit it — that you're a depraved whore."

"Admit it." He emphasized each syllable with a thrust, ramming into you hard enough to fuck the breath out of your lungs.

"Shit—fuck! Oh, god!" You sobbed, arching your back into him. You nearly came at the feeling of his abdomen rubbing your aching dick. "I'm a whore! M'your whore!"

His cock throbbed fervently at your words, rewarding you with groans and grunts directly into your ear. Your ass slightly stung at the force of his thrusts as he fucked his anger into you, but neither of you cared.

"Fuuuck!" You drawled out. "Miguel, m'so close! Let — ngh, ah — Let me cum!"

"Yeah?" He cooed in your ear, gently licking the shell. "You gonna cum f'me?"

"Yes, yes—!"

"Then beg."

He stopped moving so unexpectedly that it left you disoriented for a few moments as you stupidly stared at him with wide, watery eyes. "W-What...?"

"Beg to cum," he leaned away from you to get a clearer look at your face. "I'm not repeating myself."

You took a moment to catch your breath (and secretly savor the feeling of his dick twitching inside you). "God, please, Miguel! I need it so bad. I need to cum — please let me cum! I'll be good, I promise! Fuck, Miguel, please let me cum! Please, please, please!"

The sight of the tears along your lash lines sent electricity down his spine as his breath hitched. "You'll be good?" He dryly laughed. "I don't think I believe you."

You opened your mouth in defense when he suddenly slammed himself back inside you, tearing a moan instead of words from your throat. He fucked you hard and fast and deep, grunting in a way you could only describe as animalistic.

But you loved it. You loved how he controlled your body so effortlessly, how he treated you like a cheap fuck toy. You mentally deemed all those chases worth it in the end.

The heat from less than a minute or two prior returned full force as you tilted your head back in ecstasy. You babbled out incoherent words of (what Miguel suspected to be) praise, straining against your binds once again.

You screamed out when the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, electricity shooting down your spine as your cock spurt cum underneath your clothes. You weren't able to process the stain in the fabric when you realized that he hadn't slowed down, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm to chase his own.

You stared up at him, admiring the slight flush on his cheeks, how his brows furrowed in concentration, and even his eyes that shone with disdain towards you.

You could feel his dick throbbing inside you, and you quickly realized that he was about to cum as well. The ecstasy you were granted slowly began to merge with the pain of overstimulation, but it only made the hazy bliss you were in so much better.

"Yes, yes, Miguel!" You gasped out as your legs trembled in his hold. "Cum inside me, please, I want it!"

He grunted at your words, fucking you with a few more harsh thrusts before he suddenly pulled out. It took you a moment longer than normal for you to process the uncomfortable emptiness as he let go of one of your legs to quickly jerk himself off.

"What—No! Please, Miguel!" You pleaded uselessly, wincing when he tightened his grip on your thigh and unintentionally extended his talons. They penetrated through your clothes and pierced your skin, drawing a bit of blood, but that was neither of your concern at the moment.

"Ay, solo cállate ya,⁷" he growled, releasing your thigh to press his palm against your mouth to silence you. You let out pathetic whines and whimpers, but Miguel was focused on achieving his orgasm.

With a final few strokes, he finally came with a loud groan as his cum spurt onto the floor. He angled his hips to make sure none of it landed on you, much to your obvious dismay. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and stared at your bound body, trembling and helpless. It was satisfying to see you in such a state.

He reactivated the hologram over his softening cock before binding your legs together in a way that hid the large hole in your pants to prevent anyone from figuring out what the two of you did.

He sighed heavily and slung you over his shoulder, standing up to look around and figure out where the fuck he was.

"You have a really nice ass," you commented after a moment, unable to keep your compliments to yourself.

He groaned. It was gonna be a long trip back to HQ.

Translations:

1: "I'm going to kill you!"

2: "Oh my god."

3: "Shut up!"

4: "Shit..."

5: "You like it when I treat you like you're nothing, don't you?"

6: "Stop lying to yourself and admit it."

7: "Oh, just shut up already."

cross-posted on ao3

[pray4byron]

Request: You know that scene from The Show must go on with Charlie and Vaggie singing the reprise of "More Than Anything" On the night before the battle? Well can you do that but with Husk and his s/o with the two either singing or talking about how much has happened but they’ll always stand by each other’s side even if they’re freaking terrified about the outcome of it all and saying the word “I love you” for the first time in the process

ofc i can do that!! this is so cute and husk has my heart so haha

Warnings: Reader basically takes Angel’s place in this, Mentions of Drinking, Mentions of Death, Mentions of War

“More Than Anything”

“I guess you really have changed.” Husk said, giving you a soft smile.

“Hey.. Charlie said we could live tonight however we wanted.” You started, smiling back at him, “So pour me a fresh one, and let’s get to living!”

You watched as Husk crossed over to the other side of the bar to prepare your drink, you let out a dreamily sigh that felt like it was being held in forever.

Husk had only entered your life a few mere months ago, but you don’t think you’ve ever cared for someone so…lovingly.

Truth be told, you didn’t know how far this would go, if he even felt the same, hell, if you both even survived tomorrow. But you didn’t care.

When you were with Husk, it felt like you could be the weirdest, saddest, happiest, angriest, silliest, and most fucked up version of yourself without judgement. And…it was a little strange.

Hell wasn’t the kindest place to you, and neither was your life on Earth, but that didn’t matter.

Husk would be there to put all the broken pieces of your heart back together, sure, they were only binded by mere pieces of figurative glue or tape, but even with the most crappy materials that belonged in a kindergarten classroom, Husk would be able to put it together good as new.

After a short conversation with Husk, you went over to Charlie and hugged her, thanking her for everything the hotel has given you. It looked like she was about to cry right then and there.

While you were at it, you went over to Pentious, thanking him for being one of your closest friends while at the hotel, and wished him good luck in the battle, and good luck winning Cherri’s heart, patting him on the back before you left.

Then… you snuck off. You stood against the wall, feeling tears prick in your eyes, little did you know a certain cat approached you.

“You snuck away.” He stated. “What happened?” He asked, coming over to your side, leaning against the wall.

Neither of you made eye contact, instead you both just stared at the other side of the wall.

“I’m just so scared…” You mumble, your voice cracking, the water works spilling out of your eyes.

You wiped your eyes, trying to stop hiccups from escaping your lips, “What if we lose?”

Husk sighed, bitting his lip, he wasn’t ready to say this, but this could possibly be the last chance he had to do so, “Then at least I’ll die with you by my side.”

Your head whipped around to face him, surely you heard him wrong! “Huh? Wha— What do you mean?”

He took a breath in, turning to his body completely to face you, “I… I know this is sudden, but if I die tomorrow, if you die tomorrow, I need you to know that you made me a better man.” Husk said, looking into your eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If tomorrow, one of us is gone, you need to know I love you more than anything.” Husk whispered, holding your face in his paws.

Your foreheads connected, feeling eachothers hot breath on your face, and all you could do, is lean in, and kiss the man who made you feel whole again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: The reblogs and my comments await your wrath.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your turn to present comes and you stand up at the board, your budget projected as the bulb nearly blinds you. You point to the numbers and the accompanying graphs, going over each as best as you can. Your life might be an utter and complete mess but you know numbers. Your job is simple as simple gets and you can go over this ad nauseam.

Still, your focus is splintered as you find yourself stalling here and there. Each time you meet Mr Hansen's sparkling blue eyes, you nearly swallow your own tongue. You can't help but think of what you did in his office. Of what Pete would say when found out. And he will because you've never been a good liar and this isn't a secret you can keep. You just don't know how to say it.

He won't care that you were in a bind, that you were disgusted by yourself, that you didn't want to do it. You still did it. You betrayed your marriage. Even if it is a bit rocky, you made a vow. Despite the friction, you love Pete. You wouldn't have stuck around this long otherwise. It's just a rocky patch. Or it was, until this.

Your eyes linger on Hansen as he leans back in his chair and lets his gaze drift towards his lap. You gulp and look to the board, pointing out the projection as you finish up. You wallow in a momentary silence before you retreat and reclaim your seat at the conference table. You were absolutely certain to be as far from him as possible, though that was easy as all the executives cluster together.

You keep your attention at the front of the room. These things are always dull. You're not high up enough to care about more than your own piece in the puzzle. You don't make the big decisions, you just show what's there. 

You sip from your cold coffee. You feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Not now. You ignore it and tap your fingers on the table.

You glance around and once more find Hansen’s attention on you. He should be more concerned with the marketing presentation going on. You hide any tinge of emotion; irritation, confusion, humiliation, a peer up at the front.

The meeting ends just as you catch yourself nodding off. You shuffle out with the rest of the bodies and find your desk, nearly keeling over as you sit. You got what, an hour's sleep. You don't know if you can make it through.

Your phone goes off again. Great, what is it now? You really can't handle anything else today. Your morning has already drained you of everything you have left.

Shit, it's the school. You get up and answer your phone, marching between desks to find a quiet place. You dip down towards an empty meeting room and shut yourself in. The secretary tells you Malik got sick in gym class. Today? You sigh and promise you'll be there as soon as you can.

You put your hand to your forehead and yawn as you hang up. If you have any more caffeine, you're going to explode. You just need to get through it. You always do. Not for you, for the kids. That's what it's about.

You turn and find the door open, a figure against the frame. You could like and say you're surprised but you know Mr. Hansen isn't the type to let you sink in shame. He wants to rub it in.

"You know, I didn't think witches were real but you got magic hands, toots--"

"Sir," you fight to keep your voice even, "I just got a call from my kids' school--"

"Ew, let's not with the kids," he flicks his fingers dismissively, "I'm talking about us."

"Us?" You frown, "sir, please, I have to--"

"That husband of yours, he's lucky. Is that from practice or are you just that desperate to get your hands on some prime meat?"

You give him a look, the kind you give when you're trying not to yell. As a point, you don't raise your voice. He gives a shiver as if shaking off a chill.

"I'm teasing. I'm just... let's turn this thing around, honey. You got your budget, I got... off. And now we can get along. So, let me be a nice guy and say, go, get your kid, be a good mommy, and be back bright and early tomorrow."

You stutter. You don't quite believe him. It feels like a test. A trap. He smirks and lets his hand wander down his stomach. He grips himself through his pants.

"Unless, you want more--"

"I really have to go," you squeeze your phone, "my son--"

"Alright, alright, ugh, boring," he sneers, "I don't wanna hear about the kids."

"Um, okay," you near him, "thank you, Mr. Hansen."

"Yeah yeah," he backs out of the doorway, "don't stress it." He steps aside as you go into the hallway, "unclench a little."

As you turn, you stumble, a sudden clap against your ass throwing you off balance. You steady yourself but don't look back as he retracts his hand. Your eyes are wide, your steps stiff and stunted as you tell yourself to just keep going.

Shit, this is a problem.

Your job is stressful enough. The last thing you ever wanted was to be Hansen’s next target. It’s not something you ever worried about. You’re too old, too flabby, and too worn out. When he realises that, he’ll be back to the likes of Kendra. You don’t know who you should pity more; yourself or her.

You don't have capacity right now. One thing at a time. Get Malik home, then you can figure out how exactly your life is going to implode.

🗄️

You get Malik on the couch, bundled up watching his favourite cartoons, as you sit and stare at your phone. You know that even if you called, Pete wouldn't pick up. He's too busy for you. Still, your anxiety eats away at you and makes you impatient. You can't even enjoy the time away from the office.

You make some soup once your son's stomach settles but yours is in worse shape. You don't have an appetite, you're restless and exhausted. You're in pieces.

You know you can't go back and change things. Hell, you couldn't have done anything different. You have a mortgage, insurance, and children to look after. You can't throw it all away on one man's ego.

Still, you did something wrong. Something unforgivable. If you think Pete hates you now, he's going to despise you. And you might just lose everything anyway.

You sit and bend over, holding your head. God, you're stupid and weak and awful. You chose this, a family, a man who doesn't care, and a job that gives you nothing but stress. You could've had a better life and never inflicted your mistake on anyone else.

"Mommy," Malik taps your shoulder, startling so you sit up too fast, nearly falling out of the chair, "mommy, the stove."

You look over at the pot boils over, hissing and bubbling. Great, now you've burnt the chicken noodle. You get up and quickly flip off the burner and move the pot to the next one.

"How about some vegetable soup, huh?" You offer, "sorry, Mal."

"Are you okay, mommy?" He pouts as he stands in his dinosaur pajamas.

"Yeah, yeah, mom's just tired," you answer, "go sit down. I'll clean this up. Then it should be time to go pick up Simone."

He mumbles and leaves you. You look at the burnt soup, curdled and filmy and black around the edges. Usually, you just want Pete home but tonight, you don't know what you're going to do when he gets in. You can be sure it'll be a sleepless night.

🗄️

You spend the evening avoiding your phone. It's easy. You sit and help Simone with her homework as Malik colours at the other side of the table. After dinner you get them washed up and in their pajamas in time for bed.

You can’t help but try to suck up every second. You don’t want to lose this. It can be hard, Pete’s long hours, your sore hips, the children’s antics. It can be utterly defeating but you don’t want to lose it all. Maybe you should’ve tried sooner to fix things, maybe if you did, Pete might believe you didn’t want to do what you did.

Once the kids are asleep, you're left to yourself but not really. You clean the kitchen and get lunches packed for the next day. You switch the laundry before you head up to bed but leave the light on as you lay down. 

It’s a mirror of the night before, except you’re not the one with your tail between your legs. Pete gets home as late as ever. You want to be mad that he's only there on weekends to see the kids. Yet, you don't see much of him then either.

He comes upstairs, pushing back his hair as he enters, blanching as he sees you awake. His face falls and he runs his fingers around his stubbly lips. You don't say anything as he loosens his tie and sighs.

"Please, I don't wanna argue tonight," he says as he sheds his blazer, "it's been a long day."

"Alright," you agree, fighting not to squirm as your stomach flips. "But… I wanna talk about something."

"Look, we're almost there. The hard part's almost over," he explains as he unbuttons his shirt, "we're about to hit oil with this thing."

"I know, but… there's something we need to talk about–"

He closes his eyes and hangs his head back as he peels off his shirt. He's in good shape still. You suppose making your own hours gives you a lot of time for the gym.

"Can I take a shower first?" He huffs.

"Sure," you murmur. He's trying to wait you out, hoping you fall asleep before he's done. "Take a shower."

His brows rise and fall and he turns away as he digs in his pocket. He pulls out his phone and plugs it in, leaving it face down on the dresser. He unclasps the gold chain around his wrist and puts it in the jewelry tray with his watch. You watch his hands.

"Where's your ring?" You ask as you focus on his fingers.

"Oh, uh, fuck," he sniffs, "must've left it in my gym bag again."

"Mmm," you him and don't comment further. 

You look down at your own band, twisting it on your finger as your inside rot with guilt. You have to face this. You have to be honest. As much as it hurts you. As much as it'll hurt you.

He moves around the room. He misses the hamper again, this time his underwear fall on the floor. You want to cry as more than just the weight of your confession crushes you. It’s all of it. The years of distance between you, the memory of good days far behind, what you’ll never have again.

The bathroom door shuts and you look up again. You get up, needing to walk off the excess energy. You pace in circles and wring your hands. You want to rehearse what you should say but you got nothing. 

You hear the subtle buzz and pause. You go back to the bed and take your phone off the night table. Nothing. Not even a notification for that dumb matching game you played once while waiting at the doctor's office.

You set it back down and go back to your aimless circling. You hear it again and again. It's annoying. Tweaking your already addled nerves. 

You look around and see Pete's phone, the edges limned in the glow of the overturned screen. You cross the room and flip it over to turn the volume down. You stop as the newest message pops across the top.

'Hey babe, can't wait for Saturday. Bikini or no suit at all?' 

You read it once, twice, several times before your shock fully sets in. What? Your heart drops as you put his phone back as you found it and back away. 

You sit on the bed and stare at the bathroom door. Things can always get worse, that's your bitter mantra. You swallow as your eyes brim with tears and your throat locks up. You listen to the showerhead buzz.

You were prepared to be the bad guy. To lay yourself bare and plead mercy. You psyched yourself up to face the music but you're unprepared for this. 

You get up and turn off the lamp. You get into bed and face away from the bathroom, just like most nights. You pull the blanket to your shoulders and close your eyes. You measure your breaths to keep from crying. Once you start, you won't be able to stop.

When Pete finishes, you're still awake. Sleep? That's a joke. You just lay there and listen to him move around. When he comes to bed, he doesn't try to talk to you or wake you up.

You open your eyes and see the glow of his phone outlining your silhouette against the wall. You gulp, careful not to give yourself away. He groans and he types away on his phone. Right beside you… like you don't exist. You're just an afterthought for him. Just like your vows. Just like the kids.

As low as you thought you were that morning, you’ve sunk even further. Would he even care if he knew? You’re so unlovable, he probably wouldn’t even believe another man would let you touch them.

[heartfullofleeches]

would there be any way the staff!reader could stay overnight in the gallery safely? without being turned into an art piece so everyone doesnt have to worry about losing them? maybe this reader, somehow hired to take care of and maintain everyone in the gallery, doesn't really have anywhere to go home to...?

honestly? i'd feel very protected if i had to sleep in an art gallery full of art + director that love and cherish me. after i get used to them being alive first–

BTW i hope you are safe, happy, stress-free, are eating well and drinking lots of water! have an amazing day whether you choose to answer this or not!! :D

Well, as long as you manage to make it clear that you'll never leave them, the gallery won't have to resort to turning you into a painting. I imagine living there would be the best way to do so actually. The topic will most likely come up again as you age or if you get seriously injured, but for the time they would be content with the arrangement and (somehow) work together to make sure you're given the same care that you've given them.

-

"Is Y/n comfortable?"

The question's accompanied by light snickering as the hands at work complete their mission. You wrestle against your binds, but their softness and the persisting presence of hands pinning to the mat as well as combing through your hair makes you still. You accept defeat physically - but you're not down for the count yet.

"Scavenger, I really appreciate your effort, but I need to check on the other floors before I get some rest."

The Scavenger only laughs more, yet there's a notable difference to its tone. While clocking out for the night and tending to the rest of your duties off-shift, you were ambushed by the painting and dragged back to the storage closet you slept in. Your own bedding had already been laid out; added onto by the various blankets, foods, and other comforts they had stolen for you. The Scavenger used said blankets to swaddle you in and has been trying for the past half hour to get you to fall asleep. It hushes you with a finger to your lips.

"Shhhh. Quiet. There are new rules to follow. New rules to keep Y/n safe. Once their shift is over, it's our turn to take care of them. Might get sick otherwise."

The Scavenger runs its blackened fingers across the dark circles under your eyes to prove their point. As you prepare your rebuttal, the storage room door opens. Your stomach drops seeing who walks in.

The Lady in White. Red clings to the tails of her dress like haunts of her crimes and a knife welt in her hand. Crimson decorates the blade, but it's not blood. On further investigation, its revealed to the remaining skin of the item resting on the plate in her opposite hand. Her face scrunches up in disgust as she looks at all the processed foods around you.

"Please, stop feeding my darling garbage. I've left them in your company because I believe its for the best for us all, but I am not afraid to cut you all down if I must."

She places a plate of apple slices on the floor. "The Rose has been growing these for you. It's not much, but its food. If I had the right ingredients, I'm sure I can make a proper dish with them. Use this to buy them for me, and whatever else you may need."

She sets a wallet beside the plate. At least she tried to scrape off the blood the time. As soon as she takes her leave, another member of the gallery enters the room. Two in fact. The Painter, and a newer addition to the team, Soleil. The living clock had a habit of leaving its parts about for you to find, but seemed to be in working condition as it cocks its head at you quizzically. Its companion stares down the halls with a worried expression; shocked when they look over at you.

"Oh, dear. You're still awake, Poppy? That's no good- no good at all. I came all the way from my workshop to capture your-... I mean, check on you before the Angel stopped by to play guard."

"I told you they'd be up. They're always up at this hour no matter how often I tell them the time."

"Quiet, you overgrown alarm clock. We need to let them get their rest."

Then wh..y aren't you?

Soleil jumps at the new voice, while The Painter merely slacks their shoulders. No hope in getting that perfect picture now. The Faceless Angel stands behind the duo. They have gotten better with speech since they first lost their face. Slurred, their deep and raspy voice is much clearer now with only the smallest hiccups when they speak for long. Singing and talk to you while you winded down for the night help their progress immensely. In their hands, they hold a bright pink rose which yips in excitement the closer it gets to you. The angel puts it next to your bed and takes a seat; acting as your guardian angel for now, and as long as you will allow.

With your alarm clock, guardian, and two slightly bothersome, but still caring paintings - your eyes start to grow heavy. You don't remember when you start to dose off, or how long you actually slept, but the time on Soleil's open chest reads 4am when you're woken by a gentle shake.

"Hey, Y/n. Sorry for waking you, but I lost my house keys. Can I sleep next to you?"

You mumble a reply your coworker takes as a yes. Anri snuggles up beside you, careful not to touch you aside from placing a hand over your arm. You'd save wondering how they got their hands on a new uniform in the morning.

With the gallery's residents returned back to place, the director shuts the storage room door with a prayer of pleasant dreams. It feels so good to know that you're home.

[happilyfeatherafter]

Dean’s VOs in The Winchesters (season one!)

(LISTEN ALONG WITH AUDIO HERE)

Dean episode 1: 

( Ten Years After's "I'd Love to Change the World" ) ♪ ♪ 

March 23, 1972. The day Dad came home from the war, and the day he met Mom. Now I know this story might sound familiar, but I'm gonna put the pieces together in a way that just might surprise you. And in order to do that, I have to start all the way at the beginning. 

[END OF EPISODE]

What they didn't know is that the Akrida weren't just a threat to Earth, but to all of existence. Now, like I told you, there's gonna be some surprises. Hell, I'm still trying to find all the puzzle pieces myself. But I'll explain everything. And until then, I'll keep picking the music. 

♪ ♪ Spread them wide ♪ ♪ Rich or poor ♪ ♪ Them and us ♪ ♪ Stop the war ♪ 

Dean episode 2: 

( punchy, percussive music ) ♪ ♪  The ties that bind a family together can be complicated. Parents raise you, teach you what's right and wrong, and in some instances, how to kill monsters. But no matter who you are, there comes a time when you have to break from them and make your own way. And if you're not careful, things can get pretty ugly. 

Dean episode 3: 

( dramatic music ) ♪ ♪ ( screams ) ( sizzling ) ( growling )  There's no map to being a hunter. No playbook. You gotta follow your gut. But that can only take you so far. Truth is, you can't do it all on your own. You need other people to help guide the way... Your friends, your family. Otherwise you just end up lost. 

Dean episode 4: 

( eerie music ) ♪ ♪  Fighting the battle between good and evil isn't easy, especially when the first monster you have to face is the one inside yourself. ( soft dramatic music ) 

Dean episode 5: 

( dramatic music ) ♪ ♪ Spending a lifetime of hunting monsters takes its toll. There comes the time when you gotta let out that pain inside you. If you don't, it'll eat you alive. 

Dean episode 6: 

(Lata) I am centered. I am at peace. I create my own path, and I walk in it fearlessly. (end Lata)

Hunting has a way of changing a person. After a while, right, wrong, good, evil, they all start to look the same. And then it makes you start to wonder, "Who's really the monster here--them or me?" 

[END OF EPISODE]

Hunting's not for everyone. You have to be strong, stay sharp, make tough decisions, and it's not easy, But then again, the righteous things never are. 

Dean episode 7: 

( birds chirping ) Comes a time in every hunt when the fightin' starts. And the difference between winning and losing isn't whether you have the holy water, the wooden stake, or the silver bullet. It's whether you've got the grit to get the job done. (Mary on radio)

Dean episode 8:

(John Moran’s “Rebel”) ♪ ♪ Being a hunter, it means living a life of sacrifice-- not a lot of room for dreams. But you open your heart and get a little lucky, you'll find you gain more than you lose. ♪ ♪

Dean episode 9:

( mellow bluesy music ) ♪ ♪ This isn't how I saw things going when I pushed over that first domino. Thing is, I've had more than a few dances with free will and fate, but as my dad used to say, "Fate is what you make it."

Dean episode 10:

Hunting and happy endings don't usually mix, so when you get your chance, you got to ask yourself, "How far will I go to get it?"

Dean episode 11:

Being a Hunter means always being on the move, No matter how hard you plan, no matter how hard you work, at a certain point, we all run out of road. It's what we do with those crossroads that defines us.

Dean episode 12:

♪ ♪ ( carnival music resumes ) ♪ ♪ ( giggling manically ) ♪ ♪ ( shrill giggling ) ( whispering voices ) ( strange sounds ) 🤡🤡🤡

Hunting's a dishonest business. You gotta lie all the time about who you are and what you do. But the hardest lies aren't the ones you tell other people. They're the ones you tell yourself.

(Mary to John) Another day looking for this mystery man and still nothing. It's like this guy's a ghost. (End Mary to John).

Dean episode 13:

*RECORD SCRATCH* HE’S HERE!!!!! We’re going in universe baby.

(Opening scene, dramatic music ) ♪ ♪ 

Dean: John Winchester. 

John: Sir, can I help you? 

Dean: This is for you. 

John: Where did you get this? Who are--  [...] One ticket for Lawrence, Kansas. 

Ticket lady: Okay.

BOBBY, IT’S FREAKIN’ BOBBY!!!: We're not supposed to meddle with things, ya idjit!

Dean: You always said if I was gonna be stupid, I might as well be smart about it. 

Bobby: Yeah, that does sound about like me. We're not even supposed to be here. 

Dean: Come on, the letter was meant for him. I just, uh, you know, gave it a nudge. 

Bobby: You keep an eye on things here. I'm gonna get the damn cavalry. 

Dean: How you gonna do that? 

Bobby: I got no freaking idea. One last hunt, huh? 

Dean: One last hunt. ♪ ♪

[Insert finale including lots of chat about the ‘ruggedly handsome' mystery man here. For Akrida!Queen exposition science: You're here to talk about the man with no name...he was digging around in things that should have stayed buried. ... The Akrida. You see, our mysterious friend isn't from around here. There's only so much he could do. His hands were tied. Credit where it's due... he did manage to stay ahead of me for a while, but... I can assure you that he's not going to be a problem anymore. ... Well, there's this portal. You see--I'm sure you've heard of it. It's not quite up to code yet, but I managed to pry it open just enough to toss a certain someone and his car into it. No human can survive that gateway, so his body will be torn to shreds for centuries. Anyway, this, um... this old journal... it's all that's left of him.]

Back to the end of the show:

( electricity crackling ) ( engine revving ) ( engine revving ) ( dramatic music )  ♪ ♪ 

John: Mary! ... How did you guys survive? 

Dean (gestures at Baby): She kept Mary safe... me too. Of course, there's not a lot that can tear me apart. I'm already dead. I was stuck in the world between worlds, so I stayed close to that portal, and as soon as I saw baby come through, I hopped in and grabbed the wheel. 

Samuel: So who are you? 

Dean: I'm a Hunter, just like you. But I'm not from this Earth. 

Ada: And how did you get here? 

Dean: When I died, I made it to heaven. And she was waiting for me. So I went for a drive, and then I took a little detour. 

Latika: Through the multiverse. (Dean points ‘bingo’.)

Carlos: S-so what were you looking for? 

Dean: That's a good question, Carlos. I was looking for my family. See, I come from a long line of Hunters. I guess I was hoping that somewhere out there was an Earth that had a version where my family had a shot at a happy ending. When I was driving, I caught wind of the Akrida. Turns out that they were one of Chuck's last creations. 

Millie: Who's Chuck? 

Dean: God. It's a long story, but, uh... basically, he's a real dick. He left the Akrida behind to wipe out all of existence in case he failed. Well... he failed. Eventually the Akrida were going to make their way to my world, and I got family there, so I couldn't let that happen. 

John: T-the letter, why did you-- 

Dean: I took my little detour. The rules were simple. Don't mess with anything. Well... I gave it a little nudge. Thought it might need a little help. Looks like it worked out pretty well. So now that the Akrida are gone, you all can choose your own destiny. You can write your own story. 

Jack: And you can get back to yours. 

Dean: It's all right. It's all right. They're--they're with me. This is Bobby. That's Jack. They're family. Excuse me. You okay? 

Bobby: I told you I'd figure it out. Didn't say I wouldn't get us in more trouble. Look at 'em. Man, this is all kinds of weird... seeing Samuel with a full head of hair. 

Dean: Right? ( chuckles )

Jack (~~or is he?~~): Dean. 

Dean: Yeah. No, I know. I know, Jack. 

Jack: When I restored things, I wanted mankind to make their own fate. That meant no interference from on high, anywhere... no exceptions. 

Dean: I couldn't let our world get destroyed. Sam's still down there, okay? He deserves a good, long life. Hell, they all do. ( indistinct chatter ) So, if you want to cast me out of heaven... so be it. 

Bobby: If we're taking a vote, I'd say you give the guy another chance. 

Jack: There's always another case with you Hunters... even in death. Well... if you're going to meddle in things, finish what you started. After this... it's time to get around to the... "there'll be peace when you are done"... part of the song.

Dean to John: Listen, um... b-before I go... I want to give you two something. My dad... he, uh... Kept a Hunter's journal, looked just like this. I lived my whole life by that damn thing. Well, this is my Hunter's journal. So if you're gonna stay in this game... This will help guide you through it. 

John: Thank you. 

Dean to Mary: I know you're thinking about quitting Hunting. Believe me, I understand. But you need to do me one favor. Keep an eye out for a yellow-eyed demon. And if you even catch a hint of that son of a bitch... I need you to use this. 

Mary: Your family... did you ever find a version where they had a shot of a happy ending? 

Dean: I think I did. 

John: You never told us your name. 

Dean: Hetfield... James Hetfield. (Hetfield is the lead vocalist, rhythm guitarist, co-founder, and a primary songwriter of heavy metal band Metallica.)

( Nick Drake's "One of These Things First" ) ♪ ♪ (Dean, Bobby and Jack vanish with baby). 

Transcripts from: https://tvshowtranscripts.ourboard.org/viewforum.php?f=1550

[fandomtrashhh]

Updated for Episode 12

So I did a thing. I went back to every episode of The Winchesters and I wrote down everything that Dean has said so far, and I realized moreso than before how EVERYTHING he says not only is the lesson/theme of the episode, but it all also applies to himself. Also, I'm not sure if other people realize this because not everyone is into classic rock as I am, (many of the songs are rock songs) but all the songs also match what the episodes are about. Let's start with episode 1.

Sorry if I overlooked something or for any mistakes, I did not rewatch every episode to make this.

I also apologize for how long this is. If I knew how to add the "read more" on this post I totally would.

Major spoilers for all episodes of the Winchesters ahead!!!

Episode 1, "Pilot": March 3rd, 1972. The day Dad came home from the war, and the day he met Mom. Now I know this story might sound familiar, but I'm gonna put the pieces together in a way that just might surprise you. And in order to do that, I have to start all the way at the beginning.

Obviously, Dean is just starting the story. He tells us this is when John and Mary are going to meet, and he's also foreshadowing what's to come. This is why I have high hopes for this show, because Dean says so in the beginning that even though you think you might know everything, there's really more to the story.

Dean also narrated at the very end of the episode:

What they didn't know is that the Akrida weren't just a threat to Earth, but to all of existence. Now, like I told you, there's gonna be some surprises. Hell, I'm still trying to find all the puzzle pieces myself. But I'll explain everything. And until then, I'll keep picking the music.

Also something to note is that this is the only episode that has a non music related title. I'm 100% sure that if it did have a song related title, it would be "I'd Love to Change the World" by Ten Years After. The beginning, when Dean is first narrating and while John is holding the letter that Dean gave him and pretty much up to the point where John and Mary run into each other, that song is playing. Then at the very end of the episode, when we see Dean in the flesh, it's playing again. I find this VERY interesting, especially since the music applies to everything in this show. This leads me to believe that Dean really is trying to change something because the song literally says "I'd love to change the world, but I don't know what to do, so I'll leave it up to you." (The song also mentions bees, which I thought was interesting. That could be nothing, though.)

Episode 2 "Teach Your Children Well": The ties that bind a family together can be complicated. Parents raise you, teach you what's right and wrong, and in some instances, how to kill monsters. But no matter who you are, there comes a time when you have to break from them and make your own way. And if you're not careful, things can get pretty ugly.

“Teach Your Children Well” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. Let me show you some of the lyrics:

“You, who are on the road

Must have a code that you can live by

And so, become yourself

Because the past is just a goodbye

Teach your children well

Their father's hell did slowly go by

And feed them on your dreams

The one they pick's the one you'll know by

Don't you ever ask them, "Why?"

If they told you, you would cry

So just look at them and sigh

And know they love you”

A big theme in this episode is parents, the guy who goes missing at the beginning for one, but mostly about John’s parents. John and Millie argue over John hunting and all around the episode is about kids forging their own paths and how it can cause issues which I feel like can definitely apply to Dean and how he discovers his identity away from his father and how the things his father put them through were wrong and how that caused issues.

Episode 3 "You’re Lost Little Girl": There's no map to being a hunter. No playbook. You gotta follow your gut. But that can only take you so far. Truth is, you can't do it all on your own. You need other people to help guide the way-- your friends, your family. Otherwise you just end up lost.

“You’re Lost Little Girl” is by The Doors. Some lyrics:

“You're lost little girl

You're lost little girl

You're lost, tell me who

Are you?

Think that you know what to do

Impossible? Yes, but it's true

I think that you know what to do

Yeah

Sure that you know what to do”

In this episode, Mary gets taken by a monster and everyone is trying to find her. Mary thinks that she doesn’t need anyone to help her because she’s a good hunter, but she ends up needing them to save her. It’s the same with Dean, Dean is an amazing hunter, but he still needs his friends and his family.

Episode 4, "Masters of War": Fighting the battle between good and evil isn't easy, especially when the first monster you have to face is the one inside yourself.

“Masters of War” is by Bob Dylan.

The lyrics for this song are very meaningful and well done. To put it simply, it’s about war and criticism of war.

“You fasten all the triggers

For the others to fire

Then you sit back and watch

When the death count gets higher

You hide in your mansion

While the young people's blood

Flows out of their bodies

And is buried in the mud”

In this episode, John and Carlos talk about their trauma from the Vietnam War and we really get an insight to how much anger John has in him. John is Dean’s parallel in this episode because Dean has a lot of unresolved trauma and deep rooted anger that is mentioned in Supernatural and it also fits because Dean was used as a weapon in a war against the supernatural from a young age.

Episode 5, "Legacy of a Mind": Spending a lifetime of hunting monsters takes its toll. There comes a time when you gotta let out that pain inside you. If you don't, it'll eat you alive.

The song “Legacy of a Mind” is by The Moody Blues

“He'll fly his astral plane

Takes you trips around the bay

Brings you back the same day”

This can be applied to what happens in this episode where Mary is stuck in her own head and has to face her trauma, and this song pretty much talks about trippy things like the lyrics above.

This applies so well to the episode because this episode deals with the complicated relationship that Mary has with her parents and her dealing with the trauma she has with being trained to be a hunter from a very young age and how it was wrong of them to do that to her, but she still loves her parents. This also applies to Dean, since John taught him about hunting from a young age, the same way Samuel and Deanna did to Mary. Mary is once again the Dean parallel, like she often is in this show.

Episode 6 "Art of Dying": Hunting has a way of changing a person. After a while, right, wrong, good, evil, they all start to look the same. And then it makes you start to wonder, "Who's really the monster here -- them or me?"

This is the only other episode where Dean narrated at the end:

Hunting's not for everyone. You have to be strong, stay sharp, make tough decisions, and it's not easy, but then again, the righteous things never are.

The Art of Dying is by George Harrison:

"There'll come a time when all of us must leave here

Then nothing sister Mary can do

Will keep me here with you

As nothing in this life that I've been trying

Could equal or surpass the art of dying

Do you believe me?"

and then the end of the song goes:

"There'll come a time when most of us return here

Brought back by our desire to be

A perfect entity

Living through a million years of crying

Until you've realized the art of dying

Do you believe me?"

This episode the core four finds a case involving an older hunter buddy of Mary's and it turns out that the monster is the ghost of the hunter's friend who the hunter friend and her group killed because he went too dark in magic. That's how the episode applies to Dean's monologue, along with Lata's fear of turning into someone horrible and letting her anger control her. John also (kinda) confronts his anger in this episode. The monologue also talks about how being a hunter is hard, but doing the right thing never is, which also applies to the characters of this episode, especially Lata. This applies to Dean because he really dealt with feelings like that during SPN, and being angry all the time and feeling like he was a monster, and how he always chooses to do the right thing when it comes down to saving the world, even when it's near impossible to.

Episode 7 "Reflections": There comes a time in every hunt when the fightin' starts. And the difference between winning and losing isn't whether you have the holy water, the wooden stake, or the silver bullet. It's whether you've got the grit to get the job done.

Reflections is by the Supremes:

"Through the mirror of my mind

Through all these tears that I'm crying

Reflects a hurt I can't control

Although you're gone

I keep holding on

To those happy times

Oh, girl when you were mine

As I peer through the windows

Of lost time

Keeping looking over my yesterdays

And all the love I gave all in vain

(All the love) All the love

That I've wasted

(All the tears) All the tears

That I've tasted

All in vain

Through the hollow of my tears

I see a dream that's lost

From the hurt baby

That you have caused"

I think this one represents loss, especially the loss of Henry. Dean's monologue ties into this because in this episode there are multiple instances where the characters show real strength and bravery in order to come out the other side with a win. And this can obviously be applied to Dean and everything he has done and hunted and how brave he had to be to be able to actually get the job done.

Episode 8, "Hang on to Your Life”: Being a hunter, it means living a life of sacrifice-- not a lot of room for dreams. But if you open your heart and get a little lucky, you'll find you gain more than you lose.

Hang On To Your Life is by Guess Who:

“Thinking 'bout it's here and it's real

Wondering how I really should feel

Well you can sell your soul

But don't you sell it too cheap

Hang on to your life, oh life, oh life, oh life, oh life

Hang on to your life

Thinking 'bout betraying a friend

Thinking 'bout delaying the end

Well you can ride the wind

But don't you ride it too high”

This episode is about Carlos’ dream of being a musician and how he had to give that up when he became a hunter. The parts about selling his soul and betraying a friend applies to the band member that Carlos used to play with and how he accidentally made a deal and because he “betrayed” Carlos by selling him out to Loki.

Dean’s monologue applies to the theme of found family in this episode. Even though they’re all a part of this life and had to give up their dreams, there is good that came from it in the form of family and friends, the same way that Dean found himself a family in the midst of it all. This is also the episode where John and Mary decided to get together, again proving that they can find something worthwhile, right before they found the picture of Dean. (Insert Miranda Cosgrove meme)

Episode 9 "Cast Your Fate to the Wind": This isn't how I saw things going when I pushed over that first domino. Thing is, I've had more than a few dances with free will and fate, but as my dad used to say, "Fate is what you make it."

The song here is actually a song that I didn’t know. It’s a jazz song by Vince Guaraldi. Honestly, reading the lyrics to this song make me think SO MUCH of John and who he becomes, and I’m actually going to put in the entire lyrics because I can’t chose one section that I feel is most important:

“A month of nights, a year of days

Octobers drifting into Mays

I set my sail when the tide comes in

And I just cast my fate to the wind

I shift my course along the breeze

Won't sail up wind on memories

The empty sky is my best friend

And I just cast my fate to the wind

That time has a way of changing a man throughout the years

And now I’m rearranging my life through all my tears

Alone, alone, alone

There never was, there couldn't be

A place in time for men like me

Who'd drink the dark and laugh at day

And let their wildest dreams blow away

That time has a way of changing a man throughout the years

And now I’m rearranging my life through all my tears

Alone, alone, alone

So now I’m old, I’m wise, I’m smart

I’m just a man with half a heart

I wonder how it might have been

Had I not cast my fate to the wind

To the wind, to the wind”

Like, come on. This is so John coded in who he becomes and what happens to him. In terms of how this song applies to the episode though, it applies to the theme of fate throughout the episode, which ties in with what Dean says at the beginning. “Fate is what you make it.” This speaks true to John in this episode because he uses the knowledge of his death to his advantage and makes his own fate, which Millie uses the “fate is what you make it” line. I find this episode very interesting because they use the theme of fate in an episode that deals with vampires, and has a whole scene that parallels 15x18 AND Carlos gets to kiss his male love interest. Dean’s monologue at the beginning applies to himself because he’s dealt with fate and free will plenty of times in Supernatural.

I also find it interesting that Dean said that this isn't how he saw things going when he pushed over that first domino, which begs the question of what did he expect? What was his goal in doing all of this? It's also worth noting that immediately after he says that he says "fate is what you make it," saying the two apply to each other, go hand in hand. I don't think it's a stretch to say that whatever his intentions were, whatever he did, had to do with controlling his own fate.

So, just to recap: in an episode where the two main characters are dealing with being in a new relationship and whether or not they want to tell people, one of those main characters dies from a vampire in a direct parallel to the 15x18 confession, and two men have an on screen kiss for the first time, and the entire theme of the episode is fate. That's VERY interesting to me.

Episode 10 "Suspicious Minds": Hunting and happy endings don't usually mix, so when you get your chance, you got to ask yourself, "How far will I go to get it?"

This can be read as a direct tie in to his monologue in the last episode! It's along the same lines!!

Something I've noticed is that each episode I feel like the monologues get deeper and more meaningful, the farther we go the more is revealed.

This Dean monologue ends right as John and Mary get interrupted while they're kissing and Mary says "normal will have to wait another day" while there's a close up of Mary's college application as a mirror to SPN 15x20 with Dean's job application. Something I thought was interesting.

Suspicious Minds is an Elvis Presley song, which I know that the trend here is to include 60's and 70's songs, but knowing the intense meaning of Elvis in the Destiel fandom makes me feel a little unwell knowing Elvis actually gets incorporated into the text.

"Oh, let our love survive

I'll dry the tears from your eyes

Let's don't let a good thing die

When honey, you know I've never lied to you

Mmm, yeah, yeah

We're caught in a trap

I can't walk out

Because I love you too much, baby

Why can't you see

What you're doing to me

When you don't believe a word I say?"

So this is very much talking about one of the big plot points of this episode, a man who tries to bring his dead wife back to life in such desperation that he's willing to kill innocents to do it. Now the parallels drawn in this episode are very intentional to both John and Mary, even including the dialogue they speak after they kill said man and how John thinks that's love and Mary thinks it's horrible and she essentially makes him promise that that will never be them (clear foreshadowing) when in reality, even though it's showing that John already had the mindset of "doing it out of love" as he does in the future, they're both guilty of that. Mary brings John back to life when Azazel kills him, and as we all know, after Mary's death John goes on a revenge mission, wasting his life and putting his children through hell in the process. It's also just a running theme throughout SPN of toxic codependency and how almost every major character is also guilty of going to great lengths to bring the ones they love back. The song lyrics also apply to John and Mary as a romantic relationship as well and can show how their relationship is now and foreshadow what will happen in the future.

The thing that is different about this episode though, is that even though the parallels in this episode can apply to Dean, the actual Dean monologue doesn't, and this is what I find really weird and what I think is honestly one of the biggest indications that Jensen really is writing a fix it fanfiction:

This is the only episode where his monologue doesn't directly apply to himself. Every other episode ties in to his own experiences, except for this one. Dean doesn't go to great lengths to get himself a happy ending. Happy endings for other characters? Absolutely. But not for himself. Why would this be the only episode that doesn't directly relate to him? Well me and a lot of other people think because it really does apply to himself. But not as something he experienced in the past or has knowledge on, but as something he is doing right now. He is actively changing his future, possibly even a future with Cas (I do really think that there's a solid possibility that Destiel will become 100% canon in this show because of how everything is being set up, all of the parallels, and the fact that some of the cast, the social media team, and an executive producer has acknowledged some of these said parallels.) So in the end, how far will Dean go to get his happy ending?

Episode 11 "You've Got a Friend": Being a hunter means always being on the move. But no matter how hard you plan, no matter how hard you work, at a certain point, we all run out of road. It's what we do with those crossroads that define us.

"You've Got a Friend" is a song by Carole King from 1971:

"When you're down and troubled

And you need some lovin' care

And nothin', nothin' is goin' right

Close your eyes and think of me

And soon I will be there

To brighten up even your darkest night

You just call out my name

And you know, wherever I am

I'll come runnin'

To see you again

Winter, spring, summer or fall

All you have to do is call

And I'll be there

You've got a friend"

This represents Betty, and how in this episode she goes from being a potential source of trouble for the gang to becoming an ally, or a "friend" and an inside woman for them. This also can be applied to Carlos and Lata because Carlos was there for Lata and helped support her while Lata told Carlos about her childhood trauma.

In this episode, Dean's monologue is about the choices you make before you die. This can be seen in the choices made throughout this episode by multiple characters (Betty, Mary, John, etc) and this ties in with the song because no matter what choices you make, you'll have your friends by your side, which is true to Dean and just Supernatural as whole with their message of family and found family. Admittedly, I feel like the connection to Dean's voiceover and to the title of this episode aren't as strong as a lot of the previous episodes, but they're still there. (Betty, the "friend," makes a choice to work with the rest of the gang.) At the same time, I believe this can also be another instance of foreshadowing because Dean is dead, he's at that metaphorical cross road, and he's making a choice to go into the past.

As I said above, Lata faced her trauma. This is the 4th or 5th instance of someone on this show confronting their past. At this point, it's become a theme. Why would the show reiterate this point over and over? I think this will tie into Dean's reasons for why he's in the 70's. Not to mention this was yet ANOTHER episode where 2 characters are trapped in a room, and this time because of a shadow monster, and the only way to get out is if one confesses a deep secret. What the fuck.

Something to keep in mind is how much this episode emphasized secrets. This seems to foreshadow the fact that Dean is harboring some huge secrets that will soon be discovered. I think the real question now is how will these secrets be revealed to the audience and to our characters?

Episode 12 "The Tears of a Clown": Hunting is a dishonest business. You lie about who you are, and what you do. But the hardest lies aren't what you tell other people, but what you tell yourself."

The song "The Tears of a Clown" was released in 1967 by Smokey Robinson & The Miracles:

"Now if there's a smile on my face

It's only there trying to fool the public

But when it comes down to fooling you

Now honey that's quite a different subject

But don't let my glad expression

Give you the wrong impression

Really I'm sad, oh I'm sadder than sad

You're gone and I'm hurting so bad

Like a clown I appear to be glad (sad, sad, sad, sad)"

Okay, so this episode gave me a lot of brainrot. What the song is expressing is that even if you seem happy, that doesn't mean you are, and that was the big theme of this episode. Just because you seem okay or even think you're okay, that doesn't mean you are. With John, that applies to his anger issues and his unresolved issues with being charged for a murder he didn't commit. For Mary, it's the issues she already has, plus being unhappy in her relationship with John because she thinks he's using their relationship as an escape, and this also applies to her because even though she got accepted into college, she hadn't really taken any steps towards a normal life since then. In general, this episode was about a clown who lures emotionally vulnerable people into his circus tent so he can force them to be "happy" even though they aren't, like we saw with Roger.

This can very much apply to Dean's voice over, because the characters in this episode, including the clown, are actively lying to themselves.

The thing is, like a lot of Dean's voice overs, it's intentionally vague. He could be referring to literally anything. In the context of this episode, it makes the most sense that this is referring to Dean's anger issues and the fact that throughout the entirety of Supernatural, Dean oftentimes told himself and the people around him that he was okay, even though he wasn't. But at the same time, these voice overs and one like this in particular can be interpreted in different ways. What Dean says about facing the lies you tell yourself can apply to sexuality. Dean could be talking about not only his mental and emotional issues, but he could also be referencing being in love with Cas. At this point, Destiel happening feels like genuine build up. Now all we have to do is wait a couple more days to see if it all pays off.

[woman-of-balnain]

Endzeitfragmente Masterlist (Alpha Rick Grimes x Omega Reader)

Regular Masterlist

Translation: ‘Endzeitfragmente’ literally translates to ‘End Time Fragments’ in German. Or, more poetically it can translate to ‘Fragments From the End of Time’.

Summary: This is my masterlist for my Rick/Reader a/b/o stories. They are all connected and inspired by the original series I wrote, titled ‘the Claim.’ I may write other stories in the trope that aren’t connected, but they will just be in my regular masterlist.  

Note: This collection of stories involves breeding kink and a significant age gap - don’t like, don’t read. Rick is 13 years older than the reader, with him being 37 and her being 24 when they first meet.

I haven’t given many descriptions of the Reader, aside from that she is female, wears traditionally feminine clothing and has hair long enough to tuck behind her ear.

The Reader is Hershel's eldest daughter, but you can also read it as you being his daughter through adoption or having a different mother to both Maggie and Beth. Basically meaning that you can read this with any physical description in mind. But the Reader is considered as 100% his daughter and the sister of Maggie and Beth in all the ways that matter.

Requests: If you have a particular idea for this pairing, feel free to request it!

Key:

😈 - Smutty Thoughts

🔥 - Strictly Foreplay or Not Really Full-Blown Smut

💦  - Smut

💥 - Arguing Between the Pairing

💔 - Angst

💕 - Fluff

❤️‍🩹 - Hurt/Comfort

The Claim

Summary: Despite everything that’s going on, despite the world going to shit, despite wanting to stay on Hershel’s good side, despite his marriage falling apart, despite the way he knows he’s broken… despite it all, Rick can’t fight how badly he wants you.

Set during late s2.

Part 1 - 😈

Part 2 - 🔥

Part 3 - 🔥

Part 4 - 🔥

Part 5 - 💦

-

Possession - 💦

Summary: After catching another alpha making unwanted advances on you, Rick makes the younger man watch as he claims you all over again, showing that you are indisputably his. 

Set during the early Alexandria days (s5).

A light sequel to ‘the Claim’ that can be read independently of it.

Read Here

-

Undone in Sorrow -  💔 + ❤️‍🩹

Summary: Finally coming face to face with Negan threatens the ties that bind your relationship with Rick together. After that first meeting, the two of you try to pick up the broken pieces of one another and become whole again.

Set from late s6 to between s8 and s9.

This series includes the Reader being pregnant, plus mentions of a past stillbirth. Please be aware of that before reading!

I have also decided to rewrite this story as I don’t like the way the pacing ended up going and I got new ideas as I was writing it. So feel free to skip this one and wait for the rewritten version 😅

Part 1 - 💔

Part 2 - 💔

Part 3 - 💥 💔

Part 4 - 💔

Part 5 - 💔

Part 6 - ❤️‍🩹 💦

Part 7 - 💔 ❤️‍🩹

Part 8 - 💔 ❤️‍🩹

Part 9 -  💦 ❤️‍🩹

Part 10 - 💔 ❤️‍🩹 💕

[cerebellam]

Tag, You’re It - Chapter 5

The Grabber x Female Reader

Summary: The Grabber offers you his idea of a ‘peace offering’

Warning(s): UNDER 18 DO NOT INTERACT. Language, blood/violence, large age gap (reader is 26), kidnapping, beginnings of Stockholm Syndrome, sexual content, dubcon touching, knife play

Masterlist: X

A/N: We’re entering spicy territory here, people. I wrote the ending a little rushed because I was so excited to put this out, I may go back and edit some of it later. Enjoy! 

You awoke to the painful silence of the basement. Your prison. 

At some point, you had crawled your way back to the mattress and fallen asleep. You were curled up on your side in a fetal position, legs drawn close to you in comfort. You were afraid that if you moved an inch you would somehow be dragged back onto the floor and whipped with the belt again. The fact that this was the first time the Grabber had actually harmed you in your captivity only solidified the painful reality in your mind that he was going to kill you. Slowly, but surely. 

You sniffled and rubbed a hand across your face, feeling dried tears crusted along your cheeks. You felt defeated. There was no way out of this. He had said it himself. You weren’t leaving this place. Escaping was clearly not an easy feat, and you couldn’t think of a reason to try to dash for freedom again unless given the prime opportunity. You would simply have to play along and…endure your captivity. Perhaps earn his trust. No matter what that took.

The beginning sounds of the harsh groan from the door being opened began to fill the room, and you quickly shot up from your position and out of your reverie.

You scrambled to the head of the mattress and against the cold, concrete wall. You winced as the ragged scabs on your back shifted beneath the fabric of your t-shirt.

The Grabber made his entrance, appearing before you in his smiling mask. This time, however, the top half of his ceramic disguise was missing. It revealed his gorgeous cerulean eyes to you, a pained expression painted across his features. You attempted to put the two separate parts of his face you had seen together in your mind, and you concluded he was a fairly handsome guy, you know…save for the psychotic kidnapper killer part. 

“Oh sweet dove, you don’t have to be afraid of me,” he tutted. 

This man had to be completely off his rocker. You stared at him silently.

“What do you want?” you rasped, your voice dry and painful.

“A peace offering, if you will.”

Your stare continued. “Seriously? You know damn well a real peace offering would be letting me go-“

He took a step towards you, his stare narrowing.

You swallowed. “Fine. Fine. What did you have in mind?”

From behind his back, The Grabber presented a black piece of fabric and cable ties. 

Your throat tightened. “Um...and what pray tell, are those intended for?”

“It’s time to get yourself cleaned up. I’ll take you to the shower.” 

You let out a silent exhale. It certainly was a tempting offer. The thought of a shower right now sounded heavenly...anything to make you feel a little more human. You gave him a small nod. He then took a step closer to you and lifted the black blindfold to your face, securing the fabric over your eyes. You then felt hands around your wrist, binding them with something plastic. You heard the zipping sound of zip ties securing your wrists together tightly. You winced. 

“Are these really necessary?” 

“Depends, dove. Do you plan on making another great escape?”

You sighed. “You’ve got me there.”

He hmphed and finished securing your plastic manacles. He urged you to step forward. You blindly followed The Grabber from the basement, stumbling slightly as you found the wooden stairs leading to the kitchen. You were glad you had at least seen part of the house, but you silently wondered what the rest of it looked like. Or where, in particular, the house was. You wondered how far away from home you really were. 

Your toes moved from linoleum to carpet, and back to linoleum again. He removed the blindfold from your eyes. 

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting, a very bright contrast from your dark prison below. The bathroom you were now standing in was small and littered with brown and cream accents. You stood there for a moment staring at each other. He had changed his mask again, removing the bottom half and replacing it with a portion only covering the superior portion of his face. Why wasn’t he leaving? You really didn’t need him to hold your hand for this. 

“Um…aren’t you going to let me shower?”

The Grabber ignored you. 

“Turn around,” he growled, his voice a low hum. 

“Excuse me?”

“Did I ask? Turn. Around.” 

You sighed and did as the man asked, not daring to retaliate right now. What the fuck was he doing?

Suddenly, you felt the Grabber’s body pressed against your back. His lips brushed against your ear, his warm breath causing you to shudder. You immediately froze, blood running ice cold. 

“Do what I say and don’t fight back, or I will gut you right here on the linoleum and strangle you with your own intestines. Is that clear?”

With your back still facing him, you nodded nervously. 

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Good girl.”

You mentally cursed yourself, as you felt a deep warmth pool in the pit of your lower stomach. Was this…turning you on?! No, no. There was no way. This dude just threatened to kill you. Needless to say, you were very confused at the signals your body was currently sending you.

Then you heard the metallic swish of a switchblade behind you and you immediately froze.

“Woah, wait. What are you-“

“Shhh,” the older man cooed, taking the blade and ripping it up along the backside of your bloodied t-shirt. The cotton ripped as it was taken off your body and around your restrained hands. 

His arm came possessively around the top of your chest, pulling your back close to him. He held the cool metallic blade of the knife against your bare skin. He lightly traced the blade across your neck, down your arm, then across your abdomen. The Grabber simply gave a throaty chuckle at your body’s response to him. You felt like your heart was beating out of your chest. 

Speaking of bodily responses, your captor’s was pressing evidently into your back. You closed your eyes, not quite sure what emotion you were feeling at this moment. 

The knife made its way underneath the elastic of your bra. He slid the blade upwards, letting the cotton fabric fling to the floor. You managed a gasp and threw your tied wrists up to cover your bare chest the best you could. 

He then released his hold on you and put away his knife, placing both of his hands on either side of your waist. He unbuttoned the front of your jeans and began sliding them down the curve of your body, along with your panties. The fabric pooled at your ankles. 

“Step,” he ordered. You complied, lifting a leg as he removed your last piece of protective fabric. You officially stood naked in your kidnapper’s bathroom, completely bare and vulnerable to him. Completely at his disposal. 

His hands slowly ghosted up along the back of your leg, stopping at the apex of your thighs. Your entire body flowered in goosebumps. His warm breath was on your skin again, placing a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“Fuck, you are beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. The vibrations of his deep voice went straight to your core. It was taking everything in you to restrain yourself, to not toss your head back and moan. You wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction. 

But honestly…what in the actual fuck was happening right now.

He stood slowly, gently squeezing the curve of your ass while doing so. You swallowed heavily. 

You felt his fingers graze across your back and you jumped. He faintly traced the raised welts from his belt assault the other day. 

“Poor sweet girl. If only you had listened to me. This wouldn’t have happened.”

If only you didn’t kidnap me, this wouldn’t have happened at all. Fucker. You wanted to bite back an insult at him, but you were too frozen to move even your vocal cords.

He tsked. 

“Turn around. Let me look at you.”

You closed your eyes again, your face blood hot and burning all shades of crimson. Your own doctor hadn’t even seen you this naked. No man had seen you in this state. And now you were being forced with a threat to your own life if you didn’t. Not exactly how you pictured this moment.

“Please don’t make me,” you pleaded. 

“Y/N,” his voice warned. 

You turned slowly to face him, shivering in the nervousness of your vulnerable state. You lowered your arms to rest in front of you, still held tightly together by the zip-ties. The position of your hands pressed your breasts together and your nipples hardened in the cool air of the bathroom. The skin over your body was burning underneath his gaze like wildfire. The Grabber’s eyes roamed over you hungrily. You felt like the prey of a vicious animal. His eyes appeared shades darker in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom.  

“Now get in.”

You turned to the clawfoot tub to your right and tentatively stepped into the ceramic basin. You immediately sank to the floor, feeling that at least sitting down obscured more of yourself from his view. 

He started the water for you and the warm water began to pool around you. 

“I can’t really clean myself if my hands are tied,” you countered softly, holding up your bound wrists. The plastic was beginning to dig painfully into your flesh. You hoped he would let you just leave you alone now to bathe yourself and self-wallow. There really wasn’t much you could do to escape now anyway. Unless you somehow made it outside and wanted to run into the street naked.

The Grabber ignored you and knelt at the side of the tub, grabbing a nearby washcloth and bar of soap. 

You swallowed.

He began to suds the cloth with soap, dampening the terrycloth under the running water. 

You had to admit that the warm water was incredibly soothing to your aching muscles.

He raised the cloth over your exposed back and gently wrung out the sudsy water, droplets trickling down your back. The water washed away the dried blood and tinted the water surrounding you to light pink. He continued to wash the rest of your body. All of your body. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” The Grabber finally spoke, draining the tub and allowing it to refill again with clean water. 

“Sure have a funny way of showing it,” you murmured. 

You watched him closely as he pulled out a bottle of shampoo. He made sure to wet your head before beginning to suds your scalp with shampoo. You got whiffs of a woodsy scent, particularly pine, musk, and sandalwood. You realized he was cleaning your hair with his shampoo, and part of you shivered knowing that now even his scent had taken control over you. There was something…oddly very intimate about him bathing you, and you wondered what gave him the sudden change of heart. 

He finished washing your hair and allowed the tub to drain a final time, urging you to stand.

You were face to face with the older man, watching him closely as his eyes focused on drying your body. Without thinking, you found yourself reaching out to his face. Your bound hands had just barely grazed the ceramic when he hissed in warning, his own flying up to grasp yours. He gripped you tightly. The plastic zip ties dug further into your skin. 

“Why do you hide behind this?” You murmured, watching his cerulean eyes meet yours with an intense gaze. 

“Y/N,” he cautioned. 

“You’ve seen all of me…it’s only fair you let me see you,” you breathed, almost in a whisper. 

He released the grasp on your wrists and watched you carefully. You continued to his face, resting your left palm against his cheek. His face was warm and . He closed his eyes, clearly relishing the contact of your touch. You briefly wondered when the last time someone had willingly touched him.

You knew there was no coming back from seeing the man’s full face. Typically when an assailant showed their face, it meant eventual death for the victim. So you honestly weren’t quite sure why you did what you were about to do. 

You tugged at the edges of the mask, awkwardly managing to lift the ceramic veil from his forehead. The mask fell to the linoleum tile with a clatter. 

His eyes remained closed, almost as if he was embarrassed by the reveal of his full appearance. You realized this was his vulnerability. His nakedness. 

You noticed that he really was handsome. His forehead had worry lines and showed typical signs of age. You oddly found it endearing. 

His eyes opened and slowly met yours, his eyebrows drawn together. He drew in a sharp breath. 

Your eyes flicked down to his lips, and part of you wondered what it would be like to kiss them. 

Almost as if he could see the wheels turning in your head, he cleared his throat and abruptly bent to the floor, grabbing the mask and placing it back over his forehead. You put your arms back down in front of you, only slightly disappointed. 

He reached back to his pocket, pulling out the switchblade again.

Fuck. Had you gone too far?

He grabbed your wrists and split the zip ties in two with ease. 

Oh. 

You rubbed your hands carefully, the pink indent prominent on the softness of your inner wrists. You looked up at him, slightly unnerved. He pointed to the pile of clothes on the corner of the sink vanity.

“Get dressed. I’ll take you back downstairs,” he said quietly. 

He then swiftly left, leaving you all alone in the bathroom and leaving you even more curious and perplexed than before. 

-

Chapter 6 coming soon!

Tags: @strrvnge, @astroo-babe, @salemross, @alice-the-nerd, @norriebunny, @oui-aboo, @friendlyneighbourhoodgothicpagan, @uzsi, @chaos-in-person, @person-124, @solaetadzio, @eddies-van86​

[lonesome-witching]

Forever With You

One story about Robin proposing to Nancy as requested by the amazing anonymous prompter who asked for it. I hope you like this. If not, as always, you can let me know and I will try again to make this into what you wanted.

Anyone can send me prompts here. Prompts are currently still open but will be temporarily closed starting Monday, May 22nd.

“Nancy Wheeler, will you marry me?”

Robin was sitting on one knee in front of the couch. 

“I don’t know. Maybe try with her middle name in there as well.” Steve responded from his seat. 

“You’re making fun of me.” She pouted as she got up and fell next to her best friend. “I just really want it to be perfect. She deserves perfection.” 

“It’s gonna be perfect simply because you are the one popping the question. She loves you, you know.” 

“I do know but what if she doesn’t even want to get married. We’ve never talked about it because well, we can’t anyway. Not legally.” Robin toyed with the small box that contained the infamous engagement ring. 

“In that case you can always just-“

“I’m home!” Nancy shouted, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Robin quickly pushed the box in her jeans pocket where the outline was painfully visible. She motioned for Steve to shut up, as if he hadn’t already, right before Nancy walked into the living room. She was about to walk over to Robin to kiss her hello like she did everyday when she noticed Steve smiling uncomfortably. 

“Oh Steve, hi.” Nancy greeted. “Is something going on?” She finally leaned down to quickly peck Robin’s lips. 

“No, nothing going on at all. We were just talking, right Steve?” Robin quickly answered. 

“Totally.” Steve clapped his hands before getting up. “I should get going. Have a nice night.” He smiled mischievously at Robin before leaving the apartment. 

“What was that all about?” Nancy asked as she took a seat next to Robin, leaning her head against the back of the couch. 

“Nothing. I just- Can we talk?” 

Nancy sat up straight, a worried look in her eyes. “Sure. Is everything alright?” 

“Yes, yeah, everything is fine. I just… I really love you, so much. And I never thought I’d get here. I never thought I’d get to be with someone as amazing as you. Because you are absolutely incredible. And we’ve been through literal hell together. We’ve survived the end of the world and we did that together. God, this is not as coherent as I wanted it to be.” Robin closed her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts. 

Her girlfriend reached over to grab Robin’s hand. “You’re doing great.” 

“Nancy, my biggest fear in life is losing you. Because God knows you can get someone better than me-”

“Don’t say that. You are incredible.” Nancy interrupted quickly. 

“Anyway, every step of the way you have stood beside me and shown me how incredible this world could be, so…” Robin slid down to the floor, sitting on her knee. “Nancy Wheeler, will you marry me?” She pulled out the box with some trouble and opened it to reveal the ring.

“Robin…” Nancy groaned softly. 

“No, wait. I know we can’t legally get married because the world is ruled by bigots but we don’t need the legal document to make it binding. We can have our own little ceremony with our friends and family and we can throw a party to celebrate our love for each other because that is what marriage is about and then when they finally legalize it, because they will someday, we can legally get married. We can just do it all again and actually get that piece of paper. But when it comes down to it, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we’ll know and that I’ll be able to look at that ring on my left pointer finger and know that you have a matching one. What matters is that I love you and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I really really hope you want that too. So, Nancy Wheeler, will you marry me despite what the government and society says?” 

“Yes.” Nancy breathed. 

“Yes?”

“Yes, Robin. Of course I’m saying yes. I love you so much.” Nancy herself dropped to the floor in front of Robin, leaning in to kiss her. 

“Yes!” Robin shouted loudly causing her girlfriend, her fiancée, to giggle. She pulled the ring out of the box and slid it on Nancy’s ring finger.

[pizzaqueen]

Would you be willing to report the ficlet? I’m very interested in reading it.

Hi anon! Well, seeing as you want to read it, I will post it again just for you (and thank you btw!) 😄

Oh, and I t’s not a whole ficlet, just the first idk how many words (where Steve and Eddie have been kidnapped by a cult who sacrifices a couple every Halloween but Steve and Eddie aren’t actually together yet—they’re currently tied up against their will so CW for that and don’t keep reading if that kind of situation is upsetting for you) but here you go (and I hope you enjoy it!):

ETA: the whole fic is on AO3 now!!

Steve struggles against the ropes binding his wrists, but it’s no use. They’re too tight. He can’t work them over the joint of his thumb no matter how hard he tries. He sighs, slumping back, swallowing down the panic rising in his throat like bile.

“They’re too tight,” Eddie says from behind Steve, “you’re just going to hurt yourself.” And, even if Steve hadn’t been able to feel Eddie struggle behind him for about ten minutes before he gave up, he’d be able to hear it in his voice.

“I know,” Steve grits out, then softer, “I just…” He swallows again. His arms are trembling and it’s not just from the strain of them being tied behind him for so long. “If I could reach my Swiss army knife—”

“Where is it?”

The hope in Eddie’s voice tangles in Steve’s chest. Especially when he has to say, “My front pocket.”

“Shit.” Eddie shifts his weight and his shoulder pushes into Steve’s.

Any other time, the feeling of Eddie so close would be comforting, or even thrilling if Steve let himself think things like that, but when they’re tied back to back to a supporting beam in some weirdo’s basement? Not so much.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You got a knife or something?” The ache in Steve’s wrists throbs in time with the pounding in his head. He takes deep breaths, hoping it will stop him from puking. “Preferably somewhere you can reach?”

“No, I’m not in the habit of carrying knives.”

“Okay, sorry, I—”

“And if I had one I could reach, don’t you think I’d have used it by now?”

“Okay.” Steve’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I just—”

“I know.” Eddie sighs. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Steve lets his head fall back against the beam behind him. “I mean, none of this is fine but…”

“Yeah.”

Fuck. This was just meant to be a fun weekend away, hanging out with the only guy friend he has who isn’t five years younger than him—even if Steve sometimes wishes they were more than friends—and to get away from Hawkins and all the memories there. It had been Dustin’s idea. He’d said Eddie and Steve both looked like they could use the break and now they’re tied up in a basement. Some R&R, huh?

“I’m going to strangle Henderson the next time I see him.” Not that it’s Dustin’s fault but it keeps Steve’s mind off things, like whatever happens next.

“We probably won’t see him again.”

Steve’s stomach twists. That’s exactly what he’d been trying not to think about. “Can you please not say that?”

“Sorry,” Eddie repeats. The brush of his fingers against Steve’s makes his skin tingle. Or that could be the lack of blood flow to his hands. Either way, it’s a small comfort in what might be the most fucked up situation Steve has ever found himself in and that’s saying something. And then Eddie says, “Wait! The glass!” and Steve startles.

“What glass?”

“That weird piece of glass I picked up earlier. The one you told me not to.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s in my back pocket.”

“Do you think you can reach it?”

There’s movement behind Steve and Eddie grunts in frustration. “No, but… Maybe you can?”

“Uh, yeah, okay.” Steve shuffles around as much as he can while being trussed up, feeling around behind him until his fingers brush what must be Eddie’s belt. “Wait, which pocket?”

“The back one.”

“Yeah, but which side?”

“The left so your…”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Steve huffs and slides his fingers lower, barely feeling the denim with his almost-numb fingers, before they slip into the back pocket. His arm is burning from twisting around; he can feel the glass but he can’t grip it. “I can’t—”

“Here.” The beam creaks as Eddie moves around. “How about now?”

Ignoring that he’s basically touching Eddie’s ass—because, you know, they’re probably going to die and this is a last ditch effort—Steve manages to close his fingers around the smooth piece of glass moments before there’s noise from upstairs.

A voice comes through the closed door: “Why do I always have to check the sacrifices?”

“Did they just say sacrifices?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

[warheittiashi]

Hah, bondage.

I'm not gonna lie, I was going to do Luo Bingge/Shen Jiu for this one because of that one scene in SVSSS with the immortal binding cable. But then I realized I hadn't written anything for Tianlang-jun/She Jiu! Well, I wrote only one, but that's not enough.

I realized this when I was writing the ZhuzhiJiu fic and had a small scene of a meddlesome fanboy Tianlang-jun who ships his nephew with the long-suffering Shen Jiu.

The masturbation kink had to be for Shang Qinghua because of his username, so I'm writing Tianlang-jun for bondage.

No sex, though. Just a pervert heavenly demon trying to chase the beautiful icy scholar.

I think I'll fill this one up with different snippets and scenes.

When they first met, Tianlang-jun killed Wu Yanzi because he saw the demonic cultivator abusing Shen Jiu. Shen Jiu didn't trust the heavenly demon. Feeling sorry for the boy and strangely enamored by those frigid jade eyes, Tianlang-jun tossed him a real cultivation manual he had coincidentally been holding onto.

Their second meeting was only a few months later. Shen Jiu was taken in by a brothel and began working there - not as a prostitute though. He was a student of the madam in exchange for teaching the girls how to read and write. He also served as a guard for the girls.

Shen Jiu had been training diligently with the cultivation manual Tianlang-jun gave him, and already he was advancing. (Assume he wasn't with Wu Yanzi for long; maybe a quarter of a year after the Qiu Manor burned down) Also, with his growing cultivation and proper shelter/nourishment, he looked much healthier.

Tianlang-jun's heart was captured when Shen Jiu scowled and thrust a poorly sewn scent pouch into his hands as thanks, head turned away to hide his burning cheeks.

Tianlang-jun became an incessant presence around Shen Jiu after that. He would bring Shen Jiu more manuals and luxurious gifts. All he asked was for Shen Jiu's service (conversations, reading aloud, and playing the guqin).

At one point, Shen Jiu had gotten so annoyed that he tied the heavenly demon up to try and keep him still. It backfired as Tianlang-jun seemed to enjoy it. Immensely.

At least Zhuzhi-lang was a sweet boy. Shen Jiu doesn't understand how such a nice and polite child could be related to Tianlang-jun.

One day, Tianlang-jun arrived to see Shen Jiu looking nervous. Apparently, his long-lost brother had found him somehow and insisted that Shen Jiu join the Cang Qiong Sect. Shen Jiu seemed angry, hurt, and confused. Still, he was planning on going to the sect. He just wanted to let Tianlang-jun know that they probably won't be able to meet as much (or ever again).

Tianlang-jun said nothing and disappeared. Shen Jiu thought that it was over between them (or was there anything at all?) when the heavenly demon returned holding a crimson rope. Tianlang-jun insisted on tying Shen Jiu up.

Shen Jiu's face blanked out and he tried to leave. Tianlang-jun pulled him into a hug and said that this was a symbol for them. Shen Jiu had tied Tianlang-jun down, and now it was his turn. They would tie themselves together, and it would serve as a promise that no matter what happens, they will always find their way back to each other.

There was also the fact that the rope was a spiritual item that would literally bind them together. As long as they had a part of it, they would be able to feel and find each other.

After that, Shen Jiu and Tianlang-jun kept a piece of that rope tied around their wrist.

Maybe some snippets of Shen Jiu arriving at Cang Qiong. Many were curious about the no-name cultivator who was brought back to the sect. They assumed that he was a wandering cultivator and old acquaintance of Yue Qingyuan. Many were put off by his stand-offish attitude but admired his beauty and strength.

Also, despite Shen Jiu's initial fears, he truly underestimated the power and shamelessness of Tianlang-jun. The pervert seemed to find a way to sneak into Cang Qiong to meet him.

Cute... and long. I can already see it now. At least less than 3k, please. I'm writing so much it'll actually kill me. At least there isn't any smut for today.

[littlesniggy]

Princess in a Shithole Part One

Hey everyone! Long time no see....been really busy with work and also had some writer's blockade. I'll try to post more regularly but I won't promise anything. Anyways, this is not a One Piece fit but MHA. Been trying to write something for Toya for a long time now but it's really difficult for me to write for him. Please let me know if you liked it. Thanks!

Warnings: quirkless AU, kidnapping, threat of death, threat of violence, abuse, blood, mild cursing

Pairing: (Todoroki Touya) Dabi x female reader

Word count: 3.3k

The cold dirty tiles of the old bathroom are like ice against your skin. The ammoniac smell of urine from the brown toilet next to you is clouding your senses and your stomach is revolting. You would throw up again if there was anything left in your stomach beside the stomach acid which has been burning your throat and mouth ever since the second time you emptied your belly’s contents on the floor in front of you.

The thin nightgown you’re wearing is doing next to nothing to shield you from the cold of this shit and urine covered square room with the flickering neon lights on the ceiling. You wish you still had the blind folds on so you didn’t have to look at the disgusting picture which is presenting itself to you but unfortunately, they took it off. 

The rope binding your hands behind your back is tight; no matter how much you struggle against your restraints they won’t budge an inch. Your legs are free but you have long given up on trying to get out of here since the door is locked from the outside. So, you submitted to your fate and sat back down on the only clean spot in this entire room which sadly happens to be the spot right next to the stinking toilet. 

You rest your head against the white tiles behind you at the wall and look at the locked door with tired eyes. You have no idea how long you’ve already been here. It could be hours, it could be days. The only thing you remember is when you went to bed, texting your parents good night and soon after falling asleep. Next thing you know you’re trapped inside this hellhole. 

If they know you’re gone? Maybe if you haven’t contacted them for long enough. Will they be worried once they find out? Probably. You’ve always had a pretty good relationship with your parents so it gives you some sort of comfort that they will probably start looking for you. But it also gives you anxiety knowing that they will most likely worry sick. You don’t want them to be worried about you. 

A sudden metallic noise disrupts your thoughts and your eyes focus on the big metal door on the other side of the bathroom. A key is being turned three times until the door slams open and gives view to one person standing in the door frame.

You instinctively press your body against the wall behind you and try to make yourself as small as possible but there is no way for you to hide. You hold your breath as the person enters the room, grimacing at the foul smell. 

“Look who’s awake.” The tall man says amused but he can’t quite hide the fact that the stinking smell also gets to him. You press your lips together and stare at him, desperately trying not to cry even though you really want to burst out in tears and beg him to let you go. 

“Had a good night’s rest, princess?” he asak, slowly stalking over to you, his heavy combat boots echoing through the small room and the hallway behind the open door. Maybe you could make a run for it…

Your eyes dart over to the open door for a split second but that’s enough for the man to smirk at you tauntingly. 

“Wouldn’t try it if I were you.” He says as he stops in front of you, crouching down to come somewhat eye level with you sitting form. His black hair is messy, standing up in all directions. There is a hint of white in between the black strands but maybe it’s just the light. He has piercing blue eyes which makes a shiver run down your entire body. His nose and ears are pierced and as far as you can see there are tattoos covering his neck which seem to at least extend to both his hands since both of them are covered as well. 

“It’s impolite to stare at people, princess.” He comments in a husky voice; you can smell the faint scent of cigarettes in his breath and also his dark blue coat omits the same smell. In response you press your lips together tighter, not trusting your own voice. 

“It’s okay, you can talk. Not gunna kill you if you do. Need you alive, y’know.” He chuckles at you shocked expression. Apparently, you haven’t even thought about the possibility he might kill you. Cute. 

“W-who are you?” your voice sounds not as broken as you thought but it’s still far from sounding confident. 

“None of ya business, princess.” He replies and, as expected, pulls out a pack if cigarettes, pops one between his lips before he lights it up with some old lighter. He blows the toxic smoke right at you and you cough. A huff leaves his lips at your reaction and holds the glowing stick right in your face, his one brow is raised.

“You want a drag?” he asks and you vehemently shake your head. 

The man simply shrugs and inhales the smoke himself again before slowly blowing it your way once more. His turquoise eyes watch you intently as you try to squirm away.

“Hope you feel comfortable.” He says as he slowly gets up again, the rustling of his clothes fills out your ears. 

“Cause you’re gunna stay here a little longer.” He turns around and walks back towards the door.

“Wait!” you yell and he turns around surprised. “For what?” he flips the half-smoked cigarette into a corner but his eyes stay on you. 

“Don’t leave me here!” you plea. The man looks at you impassively. 

“It smells so bad!” you add, this time a little quieter but you manage to keep eye contact with him.��

For a while, there is silence between the two of you and you have the slight hope that he shows mercy on you and takes you to another room. Your hopes raise higher when he slowly comes back to you. With big eyes you watch as he leans down to you and grabs your chin between his fingers. His face comes uncomfortably close to yours until your noses almost touch. You hold your breath as his eyes seem to bore into your soul. 

“Too bad, princess.” Chills cover your entire body at his cold voice and your face turns pale.

You can’t do anything but watch as he gets up again, makes his way back to the door and closes it with a loud noise behind him. Now, you’re alone again.

.

.

.

The next time he comes he brings you a water bottle. He is still wearing the same clothes as before so you assume he is also staying here, probably hiding from the police. It kind of gives you some satisfaction knowing he can’t move freely either. 

He crouches down in front of you and stares at you for a while. You uncomfortably shift under his eyes and look away, feeling nervous with this blunt stare. Once he seems satisfied, he unscrews the cap from the bottle and places the opening at your mouth. Slowly, you part your lips and he lets you drink. Just now you realize how thirsty you really are and you can’t get enough of the cold liquid. 

He pulls the bottle away from time to time to give you time to take a breath but he lets you empty everything. Now, that you have drank you also realize how hungry you are. Pleadingly you look up at him. “Can I eat something?” you ask, voice sounding hoarse. 

“That’s all you get.” He simply replies. He tosses the empty bottle to the side and gets back up, ready to leave you alone again. 

“Please! Just a little! I’m starving!” you beg, desperation clearly audible in your tone. He looks at you for a moment but then wordlessly leaves the room yet again, leaving you behind in this stink hole. 

“Asshole!” you yell but either he doesn’t hear it or he doesn’t care. Probably the latter.

.

.

.

It feels as if your stomach is eating itself; the cramps of your hunger are almost unbearable and you desperately want to eat something. You have looked around the small bathroom and see if there is anything – really anything – edible around here but to no avail. He hasn’t come back to give you something to drink either so dehydration is also adding to your misery. And to top it all off you still have no idea what he actually wants. 

You also haven’t really slept in what feels like forever; the bright light of the flickering neon lights is preventing you from falling asleep. Every time you close your eyes you see his intense scare at that and your eyes snap open almost immediately. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed in front of him that you’re sure that, if you make it out of this alive, these eyes will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

.

.

.

When he finally comes back you’re slumped against the wall, eyes half-open with huge, dark bags underneath them, your chapped lips are slightly apart, and there is dried blood on your wrists from all the times you so desperately tried to free yourself.

You don’t know if it’s pity or not when he rudely grabs your arm and pulls you to your feet. Not used to standing anymore, your knees immediately give in and you would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for his strong hold. 

“C’mon, princess. Don’t have all day. I need you to do something for me.” He says and you let yourself drag him with you out of this shit hole. Your eyes are strictly staring in front of you on the ground, not daring to look up at him. But what you can make out from the corners of your eyes is that this entire building seems to be an old factory which has been abandoned for many, many years. 

He leads you to the middle of the big room which you can only guess must’ve been the warehouse. There is an old chair standing in the middle and a camera set placed right in front of it. You know what he expects you to do. You want to say no, want to kick him and tell him to fuck himself but your body obeys his order when he pushes you on the chair. 

“If you play along, I’ll might give you somethin’ to eat.” He says in a casual tone as he lights a cigarette between his lips. Disgusted but defeated you look at him as he places himself behind the camera and grabs some pieces of paper on which he has scribbled something – your script.

“Let’s practice this and get it over with. The sooner we’re done the sooner we’re all gonna be on our marry ways.” He lifts the first piece of paper up and looks at you expectantly, his cigarette still between his lips. 

“Action.” 

It feels like there is a lump in your throat and no matter how much you swallow it won’t go away. Your lips are parted but no word wants to leave your mouth and you watch in horror how his face contorts to an angry grimace. 

“Thought I made myself clear.” He says slowly. Your choked breathing and your hammering heart in your chest make it really difficult for you to think straight. 

“Sorry…!” you press out, suddenly fully awake and not one bit tired anymore. 

“Read. Or I’ll have to help you.” In any other circumstances you would’ve appreciated some help but you have a vague idea what “help” means in this situation and you absolutely don’t want him to come anywhere near you. 

“Action.”

“I-I’m L/n Y/n and I’m currently being held hostage.” You start reading. As you read, the entire situation comes crashing down on you. Thinking these words is one thing but actually speaking them out loud another. A long sob cuts you off and you can’t help but start crying. 

“Please! Let me leave!” you beg him, tears blurring your vision. He remains silent and besides your silent pleas and sobs there is no other sound. You don’t even realize how he turns on the camera and simply films you. 

“Please let me leave, I will do anything! I can give you money, if that’s what you want!” you try to bargain but he does not answer. “But please, let me go home!” 

Then, he starts moving but not without taking the camera out of its stand and holding it right in your face. “Please!” 

A loud scream leaves your mouth when you see him pull out a long knife from his pocket. You shake like a tree in the wind and more and more tears pour over your face. The man almost gently caresses your neck with the sharp blade, filming everything with his other hand. 

“Please don’t hurt me.” You whisper, fear oozing out of every pore of your body. The pointy tip bores right into the juncture between your throat and your head until a small drop of blood runs down your skin. 

“Please don’t kill me.”

Satisfied, he turns off the camera and puts the knife away. 

“Good job, princess. Better than expected.” He chuckles and turns around, placing the camera back on its stand. 

“Bet we can use this little clip.” 

True to his word he gives you some chocolate chip bread and an apple. Since he doesn’t want to feed you he decides to untie your hands but he remains close by just in case you try something funny.

The freedom you suddenly feel with your hands free takes some of the stress from before off of you. You rub the bruised skin on your wrists but wince every time your finger touches the bloody bruises. 

You eat the bread quietly, eyes looking down at your hands, avoiding eye contact with the man at all cost. He, on the other hand, is leaning against a pillar, arms crossed in front of his chest and not leaving you out of his sight. You’re kind of grateful that he hasn’t locked you in this stinking bathroom again but it is only a matter of time until he will drag you back. 

The sudden ringing of a phone has you look up at him. Without taking his eyes off you he fishes it out of his pocket and answers it.

“What?” He answers.

“Yeah, got the tape. Not what we had planned but it’s even better. Started crying like a baby.” At the mention of you crying he smirks at you and the tears start dwelling up again. 

“When you gunna pick us up?” now, you listen up. Pick us up?

“’kay. But don’t leave me waitin’ for too long. This place gives me hives.” 

With that, he ends the call and drops his phone back in his pocket.

“Good news, princess. We’re gunna change locations tomorrow.” He informs you as he pushed himself off the pillar. 

“Only one more night in your little room.” He slowly strides over towards you and you instinctively get up and take a few steps back. His eyes widen a little in surprise but he continues to walk towards you, slowly cornering you against a wall as you keep backing away. 

“No.” you say quietly but firmly as he stops right in front of you, your back against the cold wall. 

“No?” he inquires, amusement swinging in his voice. 

“No!” you confirm. “I will not go back into this room!” you announce, earning yourself a chuckle from the taller male.

“Yeah, you don’t get a say in this, princess.” He reaches out for your arm but you slap his hand away. 

“I will NOT go back into this room!” you stay your ground and lift your chin in fake confidence. He seems impressed by your action and you feel a small victory but he immediately takes this victory away from you as he grabs your throat with an iron grip and slams you against the wall. All the air is pressed out from your lungs and you see stars for a moment. 

The confidence you have just felt vanishes as he presses his body against yours, his sharp nails digging into your skin and his other hand presses the knife from before into your stomach. Fear paralyses your body and you can’t do anything but stare up at him wide eyed, lips parted and gasping for air.

“You gunna slap my hand away again, princess?” he whispers into your ear, voice cold as ice. You’re shaking as the knife presses further and further into your stomach and you only wait for your skin to break. 

“Yeah, thought so. Now turn around and let me tie your hands back together. And just cause I’m such a nice guy Ima give you a warning. Don’t mess around or I’ll kill you. I don’t care if we still need you. If you get on my nerves one more time I will personally slit this pretty throat of yours and send your dead body right back to your mommy and daddy.”

.

.

.

You couldn’t sleep at all, always wondering when he would come back. You can still feel the knife pressing against your body, robbing you of every last bit of hope you’ve still had of coming out of this alive. You’re pretty sure that he and his friends want money but you’re not so sure anymore that, if they get the money, they will let you simply leave. Given your captor’s warning yesterday you can also imagine him simply cashing in on the money and either kill you or leave you somewhere to die. 

The door opens and you flinch away. The dried tears on your cheeks itch a little as you press your eyes shut in order not to look at him. Determined, he crosses the short distance and grabs you, pulling you back up to your feet and dragging you out of the bathroom for the last time. Neither of you says a word as he brings you back to the big warehouse where he sits you down again on the chair. You watch him look through a black bag and pull out what seems to be a sac and another rope. 

“Is this really necessary?” you meekly ask but him pulling the sac over your head and fixing it with the rope around your neck is answer enough. Defeated, you let your head hang low and simply sit there, waiting for whatever happens next.

It doesn’t take long until you hear the sound of a car coming closer. At first, you have the hopes that it might be the police who found you but these hopes are crushed when you hear two voices talking, one of them being your captor’s voice. Silently, you start crying again.

You don’t protest, you don’t make a scene when one of them grabs you again and leads you towards the running vehicle. 

“Get in there.” Your captor says and helps you up into the trunk of a car. Not a very big trunk but at least you can move a little bit. 

“Watch your head.” He warns before he slams the trunk shut. The sound of two doors opening and closing has you flinch. The engine roars before the car starts moving. From back here you can hear parts of their conversations. 

“This went better than expected.” The unfamiliar voice states. 

“Could’ve went better if you hadn’t taken so long.” Your captor mumbles.

“Stop complaining, Dabi. I told you this might take a little.” The other man sounds as irritated as your captor.

“Cheap coming from you since I had to do all the dirty work.” 

You try to listen more but judging by the sounds you’re entering a highway and the car is simply too loud. But now you have a name to the face who had kidnapped you. 

Dabi.

[chaostheatre]

Nah, I totally get it. I'm not saying that Scott Pilgrim as a comic is irredeemable media™️ because of the story arc. I'm more saying that saying Gideon is responsible dampens the storyline for the comic. As for the glow, what kind of stuff do you got for picking at Gideon's brain?

-Connor

and you are right <3 gideon is bad but let the other characters have a turn damn.

glow intro:

okay so, bryan lee o'malley himself has stated that he didn't really know what he was doing with the glow when it started having narrative weight. I don't remember if it was him who said this or the fans, but at first the glow was regarded as a kind of meta joke, since comics often use little dashes around character's heads to indicate surprise, annoyance, etc.

so all of this I'm writing from a place of "I can put these pieces together since bryan didn't really know how to"

glow in theme/symbolism:

for me, it's always been a clear representation of depression. the descriptions of being trapped inside your own head, surrounded by your own thoughts and fears? feeling lost? yeah. it also gives a LOT of character depth to gideon when he talks about it, since that would imply he has severe depression and has always had severe depression.

glow in context:

gideon, at some point or another, figures out how to turn his own misery, self-loathing, etc into a physical, tangible force. something he could hold. something he could play with like clay.

the origins of the glow aren't known, even to him, but I'd guess it's similar to classic alchemic thought. it's a sort of quintessence! matter that binds reality to what we can't understand (think about how quintessence used to be considered the physical upholder of things like gravity!) it's a connection between the physical world and subspace, meaning it had some reality-bending properties. yes I'm treating it like an element shhh.

if anyone is interested in hearing more about my alchemy thoughts regarding glow LET ME KNOW. I understand how it works.

now:

the discovery was by accident. why would a music producer suddenly get super interested in hypothetical physics? he's a smart guy, but he's not a science nerd. he makes music. he stumbled across that power on accident, learning how to separate chunks of it from himself and hold it in his hands. it was a home experiment, he was no scientist overseeing a team and funding professional tests in a lab, he was playing with this weird glowy thing he'd found, but in his own home. he didn't know what it was yet, let alone what it meant or how it worked.

at this point in his life, gideon had been in and out of subspace multiple times. he uses it as an escape from reality, a kind of coping mechanism to get out of his own head and into other people's. the glow comes to him spontaneously after one of these trips.

this all happened far before ramona. years before. he said it himself, it's how he made his millions- that happened a long, long time before the canon events.

over time, he gets a little more bold with it. it wasn't harmful to him, but it wasn't exactly the most useful thing in the world, either- so he started his little test runs on his higher-ups (because yes, there was a point in time where gideon was just an employee in a system). he hated his bosses, anyway. so he intentionally passed it on to them, subtly enough to not get noticed, and... nothing happened.

he didn't dare try again, even though he was frustrated. he continued playing with the glow like a toy, mostly just closing and then opening his hands in dark rooms to make them light up. (yes he has little glowy powers too. he's like a firefly. very cute).

then, there was a shift. it started when his immediate boss quit. nothing official was released, but word around the studio was that he spontaneously drained his bank account, left his wife, and ran off to a tropical island with a prostitute. a bit sudden, but nothing weird- this is new york, after all.

then, the next. another higher-up breaks down in a meeting, stabs a peer in the neck with a ball-point pen. gets shipped off to a hospital, doesn't come back.

another. this one just stops showing up entirely. unmarried, no kids. after three weeks, his secretary calls in a wellness check and the police find him lying in bed in a pile of his own feces, no motivation to even get up. he voluntarily admits himself to a ward.

it goes on. it extends to coworkers, too. once-friendly competitors turn into fierce rivals. empathetic moderators become passive, docile crybabies. the effect isn't so severe to be noticed. report upon report from employees and musicians cite the same thing- it must be the stress from the higher-ups sudden tragedies. newspapers report on the intensely stressful working conditions in the music industry.

meanwhile, gideon sits back and watches. he has no idea what he's doing, but somehow, he can control other people's emotions (that's his conclusion, anyway- he doesn't research the properties of the glow beyond that moment).

since he's apparently immune, he rises in power. he becomes the rational, calm, likable, charming leader. and when he's ready, he takes a large amount of employees from this label, and moves them to a high-rise in manhattan to start his own. the original label files bankruptcy months later.

so, gideon forms this idea in his head that he has complete control over the glow, and it doesn't affect him. he can essentially turn the world into chaos if he feels like it, and then sit back and watch. the thought is intoxicating, but he doesn't go insane with power at all. he's a smart guy, he knows that if this got out, it could mean two things:

a) his reputation would be ruined, and thousands of people would sue for a menu of reasons

b) other people would come after him to figure out how to use the glow, too

so, he keeps things under wraps, and once he's running the most successful label in new york, he only uses it sparingly. mostly to put people back in their places. in fact, for years, he doesn't touch on it at all. the last incident was a young rising star on the production side who threatened gideon's fragile little ego and had to be taken down a few notches. more than a few notches.

the story gets blurry here on all accounts, due to gideon's later meddling. the person in question kills themselves. it comes out of nowhere from gideon's perspective. that hadn't happened before.

it's tragic. it makes papers. but it's not suspicious. the glow works slowly, and it can take months to cause a serious result. their friends and coworkers reported worsening depressive symptoms. so, there's no kind of investigation involved. it's a closed case, and in two months, everyone forgets about it. one of the labels publicity managers recommends some moves to save face, so they name a studio after the victim and donate a monthly pledge to a suicide prevention charity. the money doesn't affect gideon.

but oh, god.

does it fuck him up.

he didn't know this person very well, and if you'd ask he'd probably have to think for a few moments before remembering their name, or any of their personal details. so it wasn't like the normal grief one might experience over losing a relative or a friend. this was all but a complete stranger. but the sheer knowledge that he did that. that it was his fault. that his power had caused someone so much pain. that messes him up for a while. it makes him rethink a lot of things about himself. what he wants. who he is.

in the next few months, he takes care of it. he goes into people's minds and muddles the details, blurs the visions. not just 'because', but because he's wrecked with guilt and knows that if he sits in his own shame, he'll end up doing something he'll regret even more. so this is his solution. to put his mind at ease.

and in the end, he does the same to himself. it doesn't go well.

it's one thing to mess with other people's heads, but messing with your own is dangerous territory. it's like performing open-heart surgery on yourself- not only is it painful, the margin for error is insane. but, he didn't know at the time.

now, there are large chunks of his life he can't remember at all. from time-to-time he lags, forgets what he's doing, loses all the feeling in his body and has to stop whatever he's working on to wait for it to come back. he has weird twitches under his skin. he hallucinates sometimes.

and still, despite everything, he does it again. and again. it's addictive, the power to change your own reality. he doesn't do any more big things, just tweaks little instances in memories that make his stomach turn. he might replace a memory of a woman glancing at him with disdain, to the same woman smiling. just to make himself feel better. because, and even if he would never admit it, gideon is an incredibly sensitive person.

he tries not to think about that so much.

the timeline I have goes like this: he starts interning at places in college, around 19 years old. he stays at this label for about two years, during which he stumbles across the glow. he moves to his own label at age 21 (astonishingly young, which many people would say adds to his mystique- he's regarded by financial magazines to be one of the most brilliant young entrepreneurs). at age 28, the suicide incident takes place, and he begins messing with his own memories.

at age 30, he meets ramona. his birthday passes in february, and at age 31 he fights her in the chaos theatre.

he stops regarding the glow as a tool after age 28 and starts seeing it as a weapon of destruction. an agent of chaos. his idea of control starts slipping away from him and he hangs on to anything he can to keep it.

he does not knowingly infect ramona. that's what she gets wrong about him. he never saw her as an experiment. he had no reason to.

the glow is canonically contagious- it can transfer from person to person completely on its own. there's plenty of in-text evidence that supports the idea that gideon didn't even know ramona HAD the glow until the chaos theatre battle. there's actually a lot of angst potential in finding out he was wrong about how it works and that he gave it to her just by being around her but shhhhh.

ANYWAY.

yeah

[wistfulweaverwoman]

There’s something to be said about being poor and in love, a feeling of invincibility, the two of you against the world. Who needs food when you have each other. Who needs fuel for the fire when we could keep each other warm in the night. Still, we did all right, with his salary at the mines, his trades from what he could gather in the woods, my skills as a healer.

My father never said a word after I’d left, and my mother stopped begging me to return home after my beautiful black haired baby was born. She told me I was tainted.

I was tainted. With him, and his love. It grew in the strands of my hair and lived in the taste on my tongue. It was pressed to my knuckles and my hip and between my thighs. It was my air and my food and the clothes on my skin.

And then he was gone.

I shattered into dust with him, my pieces borne away in the wind. There was no air for me to breathe, but I had no body that required it, so what did it matter? There was something I was supposed to live for, or I’d have joined him. Afterall, how could my heart go on beating when he carried it with him?

I stitched myself together, atom by atom, till eventually I resembled something human. A patched work woman. I was not what I was before the supernova, I do not recognize myself since clawing out of that void. I did not rise shining from the ashes like a mythical bird. I could not find all the pieces that were me, because they were him.

I was staring at twinkling dust motes caught in a beam of sunlight, wondering if any of the glinting particles were once him, when a tether that binds me here pulled me from the chair and forced me to the table. Slices of bread were forced into my hands. I knew the bread, and the hands that made it, from back when I was me. Something about it revives me a little, provides a spark.

Hours or days later, Katniss, my tether, my beautiful black haired baby, brings me a rabbit. I managed to make a stew. More and more tasks present themselves and one day I find myself singing, because if I have to live, even if I can’t feel joy, he’d want me to sing for them.

Prim was all golden smiles and pink forgiveness. She’s so happy to see me that it made me want to try to be happy too. Katniss is all black snarls and glaring eyes. When I fractured I broke something in her, or our trust, or both. I think the parts of me that are missing were filled in with shame. I think shame has filled in the cracks in my bones. My failure to protect them from my grief nearly sent me back into the void. Instead I experimented with herb combinations until my brain has a more functional level of clarity. And I really started living again. For them.

After Katniss’s first reaping I manage to catch Graham after his wife had already slipped back into the bakery. I wanted to thank him for the bread, the bread that saved us. He’s upset, he didn’t realize it had gotten so bad, but he didn’t give it to us, it was little Peeta.

He promised to look out for the girls in the future. I wanted to tell him it’s not necessary, but clearly I need all the help I can get. Instead I thanked him. And I saw in his eyes that still, after all these years, he loved me. I’m sure he could still see the apology written on my face like an epitaph.

[gayshitinfinite]

16, 20, 23, 25 🌷

xxx

16. compliment the person who sent you this number.

one of the smartest, coolest people i know (like go through their blog SERIOUSLY). she's really funny and well-versed in her memes ( i have no idea how u possess the talent to think/find those things and edit so quickly. like how????? the talont, the skills, i could never).

finder of cursed emojis and maker of the cutest crocheted (crocheyed?) baymax plushie, i bow down to you. i admire your strength to keep going no matter how long it takes. thank you for every time you've listened to my problems and for sharing (and for "bringing me" ramen soup (i hope they make a kanji one soon.... or not. the ramen one is really good too), you are a good friend<3333

16.what do you want most in the world right now?

self control?(......that sounds so bad dude). to be more conscious of whats happening instead of just letting things happen (u ever wanna get out of your body and shake yourself by the shoulders and scream 'bitch u have agency, u can make decisions, u can make actions. u r not some character doomed by the narrative or something'). motivation. i'd really like some motivation abt now. god i just wanna do something. anything really. just start something, or pick up something i left off, or idk finish things.

i really want to scream 'stop leaving shit and stop being scared of trying or doing something all the time. GOD' at myself

do something. yeah i really wanna do something ( she sounds like she cud be talking abt drugs. she is not. she's talking abt painting a mushroom (the fungus), 2 girls kissing,funny pictures of cats. binding a book, making funny/cute earrings (or just fucking completing her eng h.w for god's sake)

i'd really like to do things again. i miss it so badly u have no idea. i no longer want to pretend to be cool and mysterious and like, its hard to make me smile or amuse me. i wanna feel joy like that again. i wanna love passionately. i just want to learn and create something. i want to practice a skill and see it's effects bear fruits, uk. im so tired of laying around watching time pass me by and feeling regretful and disappointed and so so guilty for no reason. like can u do something different for MY sake plsss. im so tired and i dont wanna rest. im so tired of resting. i'd really like to stop being paralyzed and overwhelmed by the things i want to do. and instead just start something. or complete one thing i left off. just pick it up again. one thing. one thing for now.

so.. yeah, get my shit together and do something. thats what i wud like to do

23.favorite piece of clothing?

a frilly (kind of) white shirt with little bit lace on it that makes me feel like a pirate. a blue jacket (actually a hand-me-down-shirt), a handme down tshirt.

25. what’s the best personal gift someone could give you (playlist, homemade card, etc.?

honestly, i really love hugs. getting hugs or holding hands with people i love and care abt. but i guess that's not a 'personal gift'.

i really love notes or like letters. like write me something stupid and I would probably keep it forever.

i love being send memes, or articles or quotes or poetry(esp. if it like breaks something in me and puts me back together or something for a sec). ig i like getting written stuff. huh thats something i havent noticed abt myself.

i also like getting music recs or cute jimkis(jhumkis) or hanging earrings.

thankyou sumi for the ask<33333( calling you sumi without chechi added feels weird. should i call u chechi?)