#jet: have you ever seen a bitch so bad you wanted to kill yourself?

[mugentakeda]

more jetko tomfoolery

[punkpandapatrixk]

🏮Who’s that Girl I See?—Timeless Tarot Pick A Card

Title says ‘girl’ for aesthetic purposes, but as always, this PAC is universally gender-neutral a.k.a. unisex~☯Though I guess, it may indeed speak more to the Yin (feminine) aspect within all of us~👑

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Looking at all the Priestess cards (for the bonus content) and the over-abundance of Wands—followed by Cups—energy… Y’all are such passionate peeps and you feel deeply. This world being a world such as this may not always be friendly towards individuals like you, and for that, you may have suffered a great deal emotionally and spiritually. But look! Every card at the bottom of each deck looks like this!🔻

II The High Priestess Rx, Priestess of Shine & Silver Geographer (Francis Drake)

The High Priestess in reverse… and to think the name Drake means dragon!! Holy Bad Bitch🎻🐉🩰Take up space and fuckin' SHINE, motherdragon~🧸💛💛💛🎀

Pile 1 - Emerald Ocean of Feelings

what you’re holding inside – King of Wands Rx

You’re a generous person with an exquisite kind of kindness. Your heart is genuinely very, very good but this world has brought you so much darkness. You often feel like crying in public, but you know nobody would appreciate your vulnerability anyway, so you keep an ocean of feelings all to yourself. There’s an inner battle you’re fighting: as much as you try to hide your fragile heart, you endeavour to appear tough. As much as there are obligations to fulfil, there’s just as much image to maintain. So…

You created a lot of limitations for yourself. You’re holding yourself to a very high standard of conduct. Can’t appear weak, lacking, lesser than anybody else. You can’t stand the idea of being disrespected—but this isn’t petty ego; this is your protecting your heart from getting damaged by other people’s careless conduct. And thus, these restrictions—and mostly fears—are keeping you from showing the full spectrum of your heart’s generosity.

But the truth is, you’re a Kingly character—a person with leaderlike qualities— who has a lot of compassion for what other people are going through. If only the world hadn’t made you feel so powerless, you’d be more than glad to carry forward those who are suffering. I sense you may be small, cute, or just unrealistically gentle and soft that this has given people the wrong impression about your strong spirit and rich inner world.

VIBE: Dorothy by SULLI

what little you’re showing outside – 2 of Cups Rx

Putting up barbed wire around your heart, you’re stopping everyone to touch the deepest layers of your being. You’re protecting your emotional world by putting up this sparkly show in your physical world. Perhaps you toughened up the way you talk, you changed your aesthetics, you buy big houses or own several jet planes; you have a lot of wonderful things in your material world so people don’t see how vulnerable your Soul is. You want to be invincible, so you make your Heart invisible.

Your biggest goal is to be seen as a Queen of Swords whilst in reality you’re a Queen of Cups. But you think the Queen of Cups is weak, so you killed her. You killed your softness and now people see you, from time to time, that you’re unnecessarily harsh, mean, or cruel. Because you’re trying too hard to become the logical, stern, unfuckwithable Queen of Swords, so you took only the harsher qualities of this Queen. It’s like a weird coping mechanism or survival tactic because you find this world too much to bear with just softness.

By becoming this persona, you often find yourself feeling trapped. But you also know that this golden cage is a prison of your own making, and damn, it feels safer this way. Because up until now, you haven’t really met anybody who can see your flaws and still wholly accept you for who you are. And it’s painful to feel envious of the love others take for granted—that thing that seems to come ever so naturally to them. And it’s tragic because you’re the one viewed by everyone else as having it all.

VIBE: INVU by Taeyeon

wearing your CROWN unapologetically – 5 of Wands Rx

Obviously, the first thing to do is make peace with yourself. You battle a lot with a sense of self-loathing because of the way the world outside of you has made you feel. Even the fact that you’ve needed to harden just for survival makes you hate yourself, because you’re rejecting what’s inherently kind about you and that makes you sad. You’re not a bad person, honey. Other people form shit opinions about you after you changed your game and you mistakenly took those assumptions as truth.

Uh-uh-uh. Stop that. Remember yourself from the inside. Realise yourself from the inside out. Bring back the Light and have the courage to say ‘no’ to other people’s ideas, opinions, or rules about what you can be. The world is yours and that Life is yours. You don’t need other people’s approval on your fucking existence. OK? You are your own ideal type and role model!

Prioritising yourself for the sake of the development of your healthy self-esteem won’t turn you into a selfish bastard. Originally, you’re already someone with a kind heart and that sets you apart from those who are already a selfish bastard. Weak, poor-souled fuckards are selfish (and destructive) because they don’t believe in being generous with others. That’s why their character is rotten. You’re not like that. You’re an Emerald ocean of compassion. Now go shine and act like the Queen of Cups you’re meant to be✨👸🌹

VIBE: Better by BoA

Amplifying your natural attraction🔻💜

your very own unique identity – Red Astrologer (William Lilly)

synthesising: AS WITHIN SO WITHOUT – Priestess of Good Fortune

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

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Pile 2 – A Monster Held Captive

what you’re holding inside – 3 of Cups

You’re honestly a bit crazy. You’re strange, unique, unorthodox; you’re just different. Frankly, one in a billion of absolutely common personalities. Your inner world is so rich, so vast, so cosmic; but out here in the real world, you’re underappreciated. And you became afraid of showing yourself fully, and because of that there is unspeakable chaos inside of you and you’re trying your best to manage it. The term tortured artist may apply to you.

Rather than ‘hiding’, you’re actually controlling the monster within; which you think is crucial for survival. If you want to be at least accepted, even if only on a surface level. After all, we can’t live a totally solitary life lest we cease to exist. Half of you reading this are hard at work taming this monster within, but the other half of you may have tried multiple times to change yourself—to become like everyone else. Either way this kills you from the inside, because in a way, you’re rejecting yourself.

Because of this, you often don’t even know your true personality. Other people say you’re hard to figure out or that you seem to have a lot of hobbies or everchanging interests, aesthetics, like you can’t stick with just one that you like. They make it sound like it’s a bad thing what you’re doing, whilst not grasping you’re just constantly running away from yourself. You scour for different aesthetics as a form of escapism from the real things that you like; because the things that you do like seem like rubbish to society.

VIBE: Heart Burn by SUNMI; I’m good at goodbyes by BIBI for some

what little you’re showing outside – Knight of Cups Rx

Because people haven’t been exceedingly kind towards your unique expression, you hold back from showing fully the true colours of your personality. If anything, you’ve tried so hard to act like a normal person, but the more you try, the weirder you appear in the eye of others. There’s always something special, a different aura surrounding you. You can’t hide this, babe, so why bother trying?

But anyway, forever feeling like you don’t belong has caused you a greater deal of chaos and suffering within. And because you’re constantly battling yourself, your external behaviours aren’t always in SYNK either. There’s the part that wants to be seen as just the same as others, and god knows how hard you try to hide your brilliance, but when you’re careless for one second, all sparkles break loose cuz you’re too fucking original. Meanwhile, there’s the other part that gets people the idea that you’re unreliable, a liar, or fake, simply because you keep changing your styles or opinions. They don’t get it that you’re just SO complex. You’re not 1D like 97% of the Human race; you’re not even 4D like those funny people; you’re a 5D dragon, honey.

Boring people with a lacklustre personality talk big about wanting to be unique. But when they’re as different—as weird and wonderful—as you are and finally taste discrimination, they’ll understand why you’ve wanted, and tried, to be ordinary your whole Life. Somehow, somehow, you hold back even your breath because you fear breathing comfortably might accidentally burn those small insects to nothingness🌬🔥🐲💨tch

VIBE: Lucid Dream by aespa

wearing your CROWN unapologetically – Ace of Pentacles Rx

TAKE UP SPACE, honey baby dragon!! So what if others can’t be comfortable with themselves when they see you BURN like that? It’s not your fault the Universe blesses you with so much ORIGINALITY! As if God hand-picked you out of billions of stars and decided you’re too precious to be made in the likeness of fucking peasants! What can you do? You’re too singular like that. There’s only so much you can do to betray your Light, honey.

In a world where everyone is expected to look and behave like everyone else, you hold close to your heart the original blueprint of your own personality. Sparkly shit like that is hated by Earthlings who don’t possess a backbone to be themselves. Your sheer presence irritates them because you make them realise what they’ve allowed to die inside of them. But shine anyway! Because—

There are so many people in this world and there’s bound to be those who are on the same wavelength as you. Such people need a role model! To remind them their own POTENTIALS. Such people are also struggling to keep their originality intact because this world has a hobby of murdering authenticity! For such a long time, you’ve wished for a Soul Tribe of people who can understand you. But your kind is far and between. So at least one individual has to Light Up. You have to let the Fire of your Soul burn so brightly so that others see you—so you can find each other.

‘Look at Me, I’m your QUEEN! aju manjokseureopge’ ‘You know what I deserve? DESSERT!’

VIBE: DEEP & DESSERT by HYO

Amplifying your natural attraction🔻💛

your very own unique identity – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

synthesising: AS WITHIN SO WITHOUT – Priestess of Prosperity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

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Pile 3 – Cursed with Staggering Beauty

what you’re holding inside – 10 of Wands Rx

There’s something really tragic about this Pile. You’re someone who has mega talents and you’ve worked so hard your entire Life. But you’re not even sure what you’ve been working hard at. It only feels like you’re trying to survive a world that doesn’t welcome you. You make me think of Arachne a lot. Cursed by a jelly bitch who was 100x more powerful than you.

If not in this lifetime, maybe in a past incarnation, you slighted someone powerful who was also petty (or you were accused of doing something bad or maybe you did do something bad) and now you’re living the consequences of that. You feel as if you had to atone for a past sin. Although other people can see your worth, you struggle a lot with feeling like you’re any good. Do you maybe have Chiron in your 1st or 12th House?

At any rate, I know you’ve been struggling a lot and I think you often find breathing itself is already hard work. But I want to convince you that the moment you find this reading, something mega important is rolling out in your Life. Maybe most of it is happening behind the scenes so you can’t see it yet. But this reading found you! And so, this Light that’s contained within… these talents that are supposed to assist you in co-creating an abundant Life… they’re coming online fast and they’re gonna serve you BIG TIME🌞🍄

VIBE: Arachne by Kaya; TAIL by SUNMI for some

what little you’re showing outside – 3 of Wands Rx

On a spirit level, you’re powerful and blessed with many creative talents. YOU KNOW THIS. But you’re always unsure of yourself. You have this keen ability to notice other people who are more talented than you and that reduces your confidence in what you can deliver. But to complicate matters, you also notice those who are lesser than you and that makes you hold back so that you don’t accidentally be seen as a show-off. You don’t want people to hate you for being better than them.

I feel you have what’s called a siren beauty. You attract unnecessary envy and hate because people can’t understand who you are. They’re fascinated, but not always in the greatest sense. They say all kinds of things behind your back because they’re trying to make sense out of you. All gossip though; barely any truth. Meanwhile, you also hold, probably, a past life trauma in which you were persecuted for being different/beautiful/talented/good—whatever, the world is crazy when it’s jelly.

As a result, you’ve learnt to be a chameleon. Changing your attitude, personality, vibe, even the tone of your voice, depending on the situation at hand. This is survival; and this drains the heck out of you. At the end of the day, you’re exhausted after trying so hard to fit yourself into different characters other people hopefully would accept.

VIBE: CAMO by BoA

wearing your CROWN unapologetically – 6 of Wands

Honey, you’re a natural-born celebrity, OK? Maybe you have South/North Node in Leo or 5th House? Maybe you have a fuckton of Pluto or Neptune placements? Whatever the case, without even trying you fascinate the public. Might as well flaunt all that you are. The right people are gonna be drawn to your natural magnetism for the right reasons. You could even have a following or fanbase. Why not? Seems to me you were born for fame~🤩Whatever the scale may be.

Embrace this idea: fuck everybody’s opinions about who you are or what you’re doing in Life; those things don’t pay the bills, OK? As long as you have a clear vision about what you’re meant to do in this lifetime, no matter how hard it may be to actualise that because other people are viewing you unkindly, you’ll get there eventually. In fact, you’re so destined for great success and wealth in this lifetime. Nothing can stop you at this point!

The key is just loving yourself fully and accepting your fate. From that pool of empowered consciousness you’re constantly creating a destiny meant for your highest good. You were born with staggering beauty and this is not a curse; this is your blessing if you know how to play your cards right😏You were dealt bad cards, but you’re so smart you won anyway! BAM!🧐

VIBE: The Greatest by BoA

Amplifying your natural attraction🔻🧡

your very own unique identity – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

synthesising: AS WITHIN SO WITHOUT – Priestess of Fertility

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

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Feel free to support me on Patreon if you love this kind of content🍑I create stories and tarot readings that calm the mind & heal from within🍒

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[thequeensbastardenglish]

of whisky, witchcraft and what lies between

When Lena walked into Peggy's bar she'd been ready to tear shreds from her. Elizabeth Walsh was out of Peggy's reach, there was no way for her to pay for what she'd done, she she'd been prepared to hae the daughter pay for the sins of the mother.

But Lena just looks too sad. A couple of drinks couldn't hurt or lead to something more, could it?

read on A03 or please continue...

There was a momentary sense of satisfaction to popping that entitled rich bitch’s idea of her fairytail reunion with her mother’s memory. But it had only lasted a brief moment. Five minutes after Lena Luthor had left the regret had set in. The feeling of unease lying heavy in her gut and the second guessing rattling around in her mind. Now Peggy was pulling pints and serving customers with a churning stomach and knowing that she’d never get the chance to apologise for her harsh words.

Not that she would apologise. Elizabeth Walsh had been rotten to her core and it was better for the Luthor woman to know that then continue to believe her mother was a saint. But she still felt bad. That was her own mother’s fault for raising her to be empathetic. Still. The guilt was eased by the knowledge that someone with Lena Luthor’s money would likely be sleeping on the finest cotton sheets and returning to her life of wealth and luxury. She’d hurt for a bit but what did someone of her stature know about real suffering? So Peggy continued to work and tried to put it out of her mind. It wasn’t like she was ever going to see her again.

Life sure did like its little jokes.

It was later in the evening when Lena Luthor walked back in.

Peggy dropped her bar towel across her shoulder and placed her hands on her hips and watched as Lena approached the bar meekly. Her head lowered, shoulders up, and a definite drag to her steps. For someone so neatly put together she looked a mess.

“Ya look like yer’ve seen some stuff.” It was impossible to hide the nasty satisfaction. Her dear departed mother would be so disappointed. She didn’t remember him well, but she knew her father could hold a grudge, and well, maybe the vindictiveness came form him.

Lena stopped at the bar and placed her arms across the top. She raised her head and it was immediately apparent that she’d been crying. Peggy fought down the urge to immediately try and soothe her.

“You could say that,” Lena said then laughed wetly. She wiped her hand under one eye. “Sorry, I don’t usually — no. Actually I cry a lot these days.”

“Really? Doesn’t come across when I see ya on TV.”

“Public persona’s aren’t real. They’re just carefully crafted fantasy.” She drew in several shaky breaths and finally, once satisfied that she was under control, looked up to meet Peggy’s eye. “I’m surprised you’re not kicking me out.”

Peggy smirked. So, whatever it was Lena had found out it had corroborated what Peggy had told her. That was satisfying. But Peggy wasn’t one to gloat. She could be magnanimous in her grim satisfaction.

“You got cash?”

“More then I know what to do with.”

“Then you can buy yourself a drink. I’m not gonna kick ya out.” Peggy cursed her dear old dead mum and her stringent teaching on hospitality. It’s old magic Peggy, there are rules. Peggy barely resisted the urge to huff in annoyance. “Whisky neat?” she guessed.

Actually…” Lena stared at the pumps. “I’m trying to be better about drinking and wallowing. Whisky is too contemplative. What beer would your recommend for someone who rarely drinks it?”

“YellowBelly’s Fighting Irish is the most popular.”

“That is…” Lena blew out a breath eyeing the pump warily. “Strangely apt. I’ll have that.”

Lena took her half of ale and retreated to the far corner, sliding into a booth and pulling out her phone to make a call. Peggy went about her work. She served customers, took orders, piled dirty glasses into the drawer for the wash, and wiped down tables. Lena remained at her table slowly sipping her beer and talking softly on the phone.

Peggy resolved to ignore her but her eyes were continually drawn to the woman in the corner. She hadn’t even taken her coat off. She sat stiffly, chin tight and head held high. She cut a strange and lonely figure. Dark coat and dark hair stark against her pale skin. She must have burn on overcast days with a complexion like that. She looked smaller in person than she did on television. Maybe it was standing next to Supergirl that made her look taller, more in control, maybe it was just camera trickery and a great stylist team. Whatever it was, Lena Luthor hadn’t brought it with her. SHe looked tired and defeated.

Her call finished her phone lay on the table before her and her glass was finally empty. Peggy walked over.

“Another?” she indicated to the empty glass.

“I’ll take that whisky now please.”

“Thought ya didn’t want to wallow.” Peggy picked up the empty glass and stared down at Lena. She looked tired, and not just the usual jet lagged tired that tourists did around here but a bone deep tired hat she’d be carrying about for the rest of her life. Weary with life as her dear departed mum would say.

“I didn’t but I just chickened out on a phone call so now I do want to wallow.” She smiled sardonically and rolled her eyes. “A bit of whisky to help with the self-deprecation.”

“You rich folk have it so rough.” Peggy marched to the bar and poured Lena her drink, making it a double because she looked like she needed it. On a whim she poured herself one. It was coming up to the end of her shift and she didn’t need to be the one to close up. Perks of being the boss. She went back to Lena’s table where the woman was staring down at her phone as she picked at her finger nail.

Peggy clunked both glasses down loudly and Lena jumped. She stared wide eyed as Peggy sat opposite her and slid her drink across the tale to her. She sipped her own.

“What are you..?” Lena trailed off. Then she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. When she opened her eyes again her gaze had hardened. “I’m not in the mood for a fight.”

“Yer sure? Yer look like ya gearing up for one.”

The muscle along Lena’s jaw twitched. She had a hell of a jawline on her. One that could probably cut steel. That maniac of brother of hers must have been right jealous. He was clearly hiding a weak chin beneath his beard.

“I’m being neighbourly. Didn’t want ya drinking alone.”

Lena finally picked up her whisky and took a sip. She put the glass back down and murmured a thank you.

“Saw yer on the phone before. Take it that wasn’t the phone call ya chickened out on.”

“No. That was my friend Andrea. She’s been instrumental in my taking this journey or self discovery.” She rolled her eyes again.

“Then who yer trying to call? “

“Just… A friend. A former, well…” She exhaled, her jaw working. She rubbed her finger against the wooden table top, following the pattern of the grain. Finally she looked up. “She is a friend but for a time I wasn’t a very good friend to her. We fell out. And I did some awful, terrible, arguably unforgivable things to her.”

“But she still calls yer a friend?”

“She’s very understanding. Even to those who least deserve it.”

“Then why aren’t ya calling her? Sounds like if she forgave yer after all that then the least ya could do is call her.”

Lena’s eyes flickered fearfully towards her phone.

“It feels selfish to waste her time with my worries,” she said. She licked her lips nervously. Peggy followed the movement of her tongue and took a long, slow sip of her whisky. She set her glass down gently.

“Sounds more selfish to not call her.” She tapped her fingers against the side of the glass. Lena’s eyes widened and she drew back. Her pale skin going whiter by the second. She was the spitting image of her mother and it made Peggy’s blood boil. She was staring into the face of her father’s murderer and offering her friendly advice when she should have been throwing her drink in her face and cursing her out. “She cares about yer as much as yer make it sound then ya should call her. She’d want to hear how it’s going.”

“You’re right.” Lena picked up her phone and stood up. She stepped out from the booth, paused, turned and grabbed her whisky. She downed it in one swift gulp, lips twisting at the taste. It was a sipping whisky and that was a waste. She wanted to do that then Peggy had some cheap shit behind the bar she could have given her. Lena set the glass down and hurried outside, thumb already moving across her phone.

Peggy sipped her own whisky. With a huff she stood up, took Lena’s empty glass to the bar and refilled it, bringing it back.

From what Lena had told her it sounded like the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Elizabeth had been a terrible friend as well. She’d abandoned Peggy’s mother when she’d needed her the most. Left her to shoulder the looks of pity and incrimination. Peggy had been forced to watch her mother wither under the stress of what had happened to her husband, under the guilt, until she hadn’t been able to stand it anymore and she had given up. She had as good as killed Margaret Bishop as she had her husband.

She swirled her whisky. It wasn’t true what they said, children were stained by the sins of their parents. Elizabeth’s Walsh’s selfishness was written deep into Lena Luthor’s blood. That was also old magic.

She looked up from her drink as Lena returned, shoulders still hunched and her coat still on. She paused when she reached the table, no doubt surprised that Peggy was still there.

“Well. Don’t keep me in suspense.” Peggy raised both brows at Lena. Slowly Lena slid back into the booth. She placed her phone down on the table.

“She was busy. But I gave her a quick rundown of what I’d found out.”

That her long thought exalted mother was a liar, a murderer and a gold digger. She’d probably already known the last one, being the product of an affair and all.

“And?”

Lena looked uncomfortable. “And she was happy that I was getting answers. But she was busy and couldn’t talk for long.”

Maybe Lena wasn’t quite as forgiven as she’d thought.

“Honestly, I’m amazed she’s taking my calls at all.” Lena smiled sadly. She picked up her glass and took a sip. “Thank you. I think after this I’ll try and find somewhere to stay. If anywhere will have me.”

“Might have to go a few towns over.” Elizabeth’s crimes were well known in the area. “Didn’t think you’d be staying.”

“There’s some more questions I want to ask Florence,” Lena said.

Peggy slammed her hand down on the table top. “Y’what?”

Lena had found Florence Abbott. She’d found the other witch that had made up her mother’s coven. Who had left her mother to die.

“I — I have more questions for Florence. Assuming she’s willing to answer them.”

Peggy dragged her nails across the table top. All these years. All these years and Florence had apparently just been hanging around waiting for Lena Luthor to show up. Where the hell had she been Peggy’s entire life? She remembered her vaguely from when she was a child. That she’d been kind, a little stern, tutting when Peggy had begged for sweets but giving her them regardless. She’d left after her father’s funeral. Left rather than face justice.

There were so many things she wanted to say to Florence Abbott and every single one of them would be far harsher then what she’d thrown at Lena.

“Peggy?”

She looked up at Lena’s curious watery gaze. This woman cried at the drop of a hat.

“Enjoy yer drink.” Peggy pushed her half finished drink towards Lena and stood up. She stalked back towards the bar and went back to work guilrt replaced by the old familiar burning twist of anger.

More fool her for ever speaking to Lena Luthor again.

<center>/\/\/\/\</center>

Last orders came and went and Lena Luthor was still at her booth only just finishing off her whisky. Peggy stomped over and stood by the booth, fists on her hips.

“Drink up, settle up and get out.”

“Right.” Lena startled. She slung back the last dregs of her whisky and stood, following Peggy to the bar. She dropped her card on the bar top and Peggy ignored the name of the bank printed on it as she swiped it. To her immense surprise and annoyance Lena dropped a hundred dollar tip.

“Yer driver waiting outside?” Peggy asked. She didn’t really care but it was a force of habit to make sure her patrons made it home safe.

“He’s back at the B&B. He was tired so I told him to get some rest. Use the room I was meant to be staying in.”

“Sounds real smart. Guess that’s why you’re the scientist and I’m just pulling pints. Where you sleeping, genius?”

Lena smiled and shrugged. “I’ll work something out. It’s a nice night for a walk.”

She left. Not that Peggy cared where she slept. It was none of her business. City girl wanted to curl up beneath a tree then more power to her. She had an alien who could fly on her frequent called log, she’d be okay. She probably had the keys to a spaceship in her pocket.

Peggy cashed up, wiped down the bar, said goodbye to her staff and stepped out front to lock up. As she was turning the key she felt the prickle on the back of her neck, the fine hairs rising.

“I’m gonna tell yer now, attacking me would be a serious mistake.” Her voice didn’t tremble. Her fingers tips did. The magic humming beneath her skin.

“Good job that’s not what I’m doing then.”

Peggy spun round. Sure enough Lena Luthor was waiting for her, eyes bright in the light from the bar. “What is it yer want?”

“To talk.”

“Think we talked enough. I’m going home to get some sleep.” She stomped down the steps and brushed past Lena. She was rounding the corner of the bar to the steps for her apartment when Lena called out.

“Florence Abbott had a lot of interesting things to say. Some of them corroborated what you told me.”

“Oh, aye?” Peggy turned. Jaw clenched and fingers curling to fists. “What was it old Florence had to say?”

“Much the same you did. Witchcraft and cauldrons. Hopping over brooms and running naked in the moonlight,” Lena sneered. “I’ve seen a lot of strange things. Even what aliens have passed off as magic but there always a scientific explanation.” She took a step towards Peggy. “What I find interesting is that you believe in it. Even with Supergirl and Superman flying around you still get those that deny the existence of aliens. Why would you ever believe that your mother and mine were witches? Unless…”

“You’re chatty. Where was all this when we were enjoying our drink?”

“I’ve…” Lena tipped her head side to side, wrinkling her nose in thought. “I’ve had time to contemplate. To put some things together.”

Peggy tilted her head back and stared up at the night sky. It was a small town with little light pollution so she could see the stars. For all of her guilt and shame, for all of the blame she took on herself and allowed to grind her down, her mother had always preached kindness.

“Damn ye mum,” she hissed at the stars. She dropped her head, sighing loudly. “Where yer staying tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. The couch is a pull-out.” Peggy turned and went to the stairs leading up to her apartment. She didn’t look back but knew that Lena was following. She put her keys in the door and unlocked it. Behind her she could hear Lena breathing heavily, her teeth nearly chattering even though it wasn’t all that cold. She pushed the door open and stepped in, flicking the light on and kicking off her boots. “Shoes,” she told Lena not waiting to see if she complied.

She walked through to the kitchen and turned on the lights there as well. Lena wandered in after her, looking about the small apartment. She froze in the kitchen door way, her eyes widening.

“You have children,” She said. Peggy followed her gaze to the toys that had been left on the floor.

“Two boys,” she answered. She filled the kettle and placed it on the stove not lighting it yet. “Don’t worry. It’s the holidays and they’re with their father. Tea?”.

“Yes, please.” Lena finally stepped inside the kitchen. “You have a very nice home.”

Peggy snorted. “Ya taught to say that at yer fancy schools?”

“Yes.” Lena unbuttoned her coat, slipped it off revealing a black blouse. She hunger the coat across the back of one of the kitchen tables before pulling it out and sitting down. She rested her forearms on the table, fingers lacing together.

“What did Florence tell ya?”

Lena met her gaze steadily. “That she and my mother and yours were witches.”

“You believe her?”

“I believe what I can see.”

“Can’t see atoms but you believe in them.”

“You can see — of course you can seem atoms.” Lena screwed her brows up, confused. Peggy had never claimed to be good at science. It was one of those subjects that had never clicked for her. “You can’t see magic.”

“You feel magic,” Peggy told her. “Why are yer here?”

“Because.” Lena heaved in a breath. “Because Florence says that I have my mother’s…” her lips twisted into a sneer. “Gift.”

She made the word sound dirty rather than something to cherish. Like it was a shackle she would have to bear always chafing at her flesh. Irritation flashed white hot through Peggy. This woman. With all her money and her airs, with her super powered friends, was looking down on one of the last connections Peggy had to her mother. She saw it as best a joke and worst something to turn her nose up at.

“Doesn’t explain why yer’ve come crawling to me.” She crossed her arms, glared at Lena. “I don’t have answers for ya.”

“Sounds like this ‘gift’ is hereditary.”

“So yer wondering if I have it? Even though you don’t believe in magic.”

“I’m not going to believe in something without evidence.”

She should kick her out. Tell her not to darken her doorstep ever again. Instead without breaking eye contact, Peggy turned the gas on for the stove top and put her finger to the ring. Lena’s brows drew down, her lips parting. It took so little effort. No will at all. Just the barest hint of a tingle in her fingertips. It was more a parlour trick than real magic. A small flame flickered from Peggy’s fingertip lighting the gas.

Lena twitched but to her credit didn’t leap from her seat. Didn’t start screeching for the villagers to get their pitchforks. She raised her eyes to meet Peggy’s and exhaled slowly.

“I suspected,” she breathed. “It passes from mother to daughter?”

“Not always. It’s dying out, there aren’t enough of us left.”

Lena nodded, absorbing the information. “I don’t want it,” she said finally.

“Tough shit.” Peggy turned to her cupboards and pulled out two mugs. She set about preparing the tea pot as the kettle on the stove started boiling.

“I won’t do anything with it. It doesn’t matter if it’s… there. I don’t want it and I won’t use it.”

The kettle boiled and Peggy poured the water into the waiting pot. She set it down on the table before Lena, ignoring the frown and pout she was sporting. She pushed one mug towards Lena and kept the other for herself.

“I don’t have any fancy china to break out for ya,” she explained. Lena curled her long fingers around the empty mug, seemingly not caring that it was chipped. “Good news for yer is that it’s probably too late for ya t’learn. Normally mother teaches daughter. That usually happens young. Yer mother not being here, yer age, well…” She shrugged. “You might have the gift but I doubt you’ll ever learn to use it.”

Not more then cheap tricks anyway. Very few learnt instinctively and without a teacher Lena’s power, whatever it might be, would eventually wither.

Lena seemed troubled at the news. She shrunk down, shoulders up again and head lowering. Biting back the umpteenth sigh for the night, Peggy poured both their teas. Much like Peggy, the gift was probably Lena’s only real connection to her mother. Her real mother, not the Luthor matriarch who spoke in syrupy sweet tones on the television but couldn’t hide the cold contempt in her eyes.

Peggy poured them both half a cup of tea. Lena lifted it and inhaled the aroma, closing her eyes.

“Its fennel and ginger,” Peggy said. “It’ll soothe ya and help ya sleep. Good for the bowels too.”

“Thank you.” Lena smiled at her over the top of her mug. The stress lines around her eyes melted away, the hardened edge of her lips softened, and she looked like she should. A beautiful young woman. One who likely shouldn’t be looking like she was trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulder.

“You got no luggage?”

“I left it in the car,” Lena admitted. Her smile turned a little sheepish as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

They sat in a not completely uncomfortable silence drinking their tea. Finally Peggy drained the last of her mug and stood up.

“I’ll lend ya a shirt or something.” She quickly cleaned up. Pointed Lena in the direction of the bathroom while she went to the den and pulled out the couch and found some blankets that didn’t smell too fusty. She’d just finished making up the couch when Lean reappeared, her face freshly washed and hair out of it’s neat braid.

Without the make up she looked softer. Younger. Less fake and more like a real person. Even more like her mother. She favoured the Luthor’s colouring but the eyes and the jaw line were all Elizabeth.

Peggy hated her.

Lena pulled at her own fingers as she approached. “Thank you for this. It means a lot to me.”

Peggy pulled a shaky breath in through her nose and held it.

Magic was a strange and unpredictable thing. Peggy hadn’t always been the best student of the craft, her mother had only shared enough so Peggy wouldn’t hurt herself, and anything else Peggy had taught herself through painful trial and error. But she knew that when magic called you answered. And she was drawn to Lena. Felt it in every moment where she’d wanted to turn her away but had pulled her in. Had anted to cast her out but invited her into her home. Served her tea and invoked old magic that meant she couldn’t kick her out.

Her eyes dropped to Lena’s parted lips.

“Fuck.”

Lena’s eyes widened a fraction just before Peggy kissed her. Her lips were soft. They parted further, a surprised “oh,” breathed against Peggy’s mouth. She stumbled back, her fingers going to her mouth.

Peggy’s heart was thundering. What was she thinking? What the actual fuck was she thinking? This woman was everything she despised and yet Peggy wanted her.

Lena stepped back into her and pressed her lips to Peggy’s. They stood in the low light of the den, hands y their sides, bodies apart, but leaning into one another, lips moving against and with one another. Lena tasted like her tea and whisky, with a hint of mint that suggested she’d slipped a mint at some point. Peggy brushed her tongue against Lena’s and the small whimper that Lena emitted made her break the kiss.

She stared into Lena’s eye. The faded moss green of one and the gentle washed out blue of the other.

“This way.” Peggy walked past her, not waiting for a response. Lena followed behind her as she led her to the bedroom.

Peggy switched on the bedside lamp and pushed the door closed behind Lena. She didn’t reach for her but she turned, stepping back till her knees met the edge of her bed. Lena swallowed, eyes tracking over Peggy.

It wasn’t about romance. Certainly not about love. It was something older and more primal than that. It was about the pull that Peggy felt and that she was sure Lena felt too. Old magic drawing them to one another.

She didn’t go to Lena and Lena didn’t come to her. They stood apart and each stripped off their own clothes dropping them to the floor until they were both bare and only then did they close the gap between them. Only then did Peggy curl her hand around the back of Lena’s neck and draw her towards her, capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

She pressed Lena down atop the sheets on her bed. Kissed her as she cupped her breasts, thumbs skimming over already stiffened nipples.

Part of her wanted to wrap her hands around Lena’s exquisite neck. To throttle her the way someone should have done her mother. But Lena gasped and trembled beneath her like it had been age since she’d been touched with anything resembling kindness so the urge was smothered. It had been a long time for Peggy as well. Not for the kindness, but the gratification of sex. So she kissed Lena and let her hands roam over soft skin, she rolled her hips and moaned at the feel of long strong fingers exploring the length of her body. They gasped wetly into one another mouths, legs twisted together as their hands delved between on anothers legs.

Then it was a race to the finish. They breathed hot and wet, fingers pressing, hips pushing. Messy and beautiful and heart pounding.

Lena came first. Her hips shuddering against Peggy’s hand and letting out a small broken cry. She shook, twitching away from Peggy’s touch. She gulped down several breaths. Just as Peggy was starting to suspect she was going to have to finish herself off, Lena rolled her over to her back, lowered her head and took a nipple in her mouth. She pressed two finger inside her and ground down on her clit with the heel of her hand and — <em>oh!</em> — She had impressively long fingers.

Peggy’s orgasm was almost overwhelming. It rolled white hot through her, liquid heat and all those over used flowery imagery, with stars bursting behind her eyelids. Really she came so fucking hard that she yelled and slicked wetly against Lena’s hand.

When she opened her eyes Lena was leaning over her. Eyes wide and shining, red blooming in her cheeks and chest, her hair in disarray.

She was beautiful. And broken. Peggy could see the cracks running though her and the way she was desperately trying to hold onto herself.

“Well that was something.” Peggy wiped her own hand down her stomach and settled back on the pillows.

Lena laughed. The smile curling a the edge of her lips a little shy. She dropped onto the bed next to Peggy and stared up at the ceiling.

“This wasn’t what I was expecting when I followed you home,” she admitted.

If she had a better understanding of her gift then she would have seen that it was inevitable.

“Come with me to see Florence tomorrow,” Lena said.

Peggy shook her head. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Maybe one day she would be ready to face that woman but she refused to be part of it now.

“I’ll just get in the way,” she said. She turned her head so she could watch Lena, took in the frown pulling at her lips. She wanted her again. To touch her. To taste her. Sex was a kind of magic in it’s own way. People never really understood how much of themselves they gave away in the act.

“Right.” Lena licked her lips. She sat up, swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Stay,” Peggy said. Lena looked back at her, surprised. Like she thought Peggy would kick her out. Which to be fair was probably exactly what she was used to in these situations. She knew nothing of the old ways. Peggy reached out and trailed a finger down her spine. “Stay and make me come like that again. I’ll make ya breakfast in the morning.”

The smile that broke across Lena’s face was the best yet. Her cheeks dimpled and eyes squinted closed. She turned and leaned over Peggy, buried her face to her exposed throat and pressed her lips to her pulse.

She wouldn’t go with Lena to see Florence. She already knew this was a fleeting moment not meant to last. That Lena would leave, go back to her friend whom she had hurt and work on her forgiving herself. Likely she would rarely think of Peggy.

She didn’t know it but she had smoothed the jagged edges of Peggy’s hurt. Made the ache where she kept the memory of her mother that little bit less.

But it didn’t hurt to hope that Lena might think of her again one day.

[kyber-kisses]

Going Under

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, spn level gore, drowning

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Square filled: Drowning

Summary: When the reader and Dean are captured by a nest of vamps, things take a slight turn when the readers life is suddenly put in mortal danger. Will Dean be able to save her in time?

“I can’t believe you.”

“Are you seriously going to bring that up right now?” You hissed, eyes blazing as you leaned forward to look at Dean.

“You’re damn right I am!”

“Dean, look around you. Now is really not the time.” You tried to gesture to the room around you but ultimately failed due to your zip tied hands.

So. . . Things may or may not have gone terribly wrong while you, Sam, and Dean were working a case. The three of you had been expecting a few vamps but somehow it had quickly turned into a full nest. One thing led to another, you and Dean were captured and Sam was yet to be found.

“Oh it never is, is it?” He grumbled, his eyes focused on his own restraints as he tried to figure out how to get out. He couldn’t have been more than four feet in front of you, the two of you facing each other. But it wasn’t the person in front of you that had you worried- it was what lay directly behind you.

The two of you were being held in the natatorium of the high school all the victims had attended, the air humid and filled with the strong scent of chlorine. The only lights that were still on were the ones embedded in the walls of the pool, the reflection of the water dancing turquoise on the tiled walls and ceiling. Your captors had yet to come back, the only sound being the lap of water hitting the edges of the pool.

Unlike Dean, you had your back facing the water. The back legs of your chair resting on the lip of the pool. Apart from your hands being bound together with zip ties you also had to worry about your ankles. Thick rope dug into your skin, binding them together. The other end of the rope had been looped through one of the holes in a cinder block, the piece of concrete partially sticking out over the ledge of the pool. All it would take was one small nudge to send you sinking.

Needless to say; this was not an ideal situation to be in. . . And to top it all off, Dean was still mad at you for the so called “hiccup” on the previous hunt.

“I told you, I’m not gonna apologize!” You snapped, leaning forward once more in your chair.

“Well you should! What you did was reckless and stupid!”

“I was saving your fucking life! You could be a little grateful every once and awhile!”

For a split second you expected steam to come out of Dean ears, his jaw clenching as he glared at you. “You jumped into the line of fire!”

“Yeah, to save your ungrateful ass! If I hadn’t done something you would be dead!”

Dean opened his mouth once more to respond, but was stopped short when the doors leading out into the hallway banged open, revealing what had to be the biggest vampire you had ever seen. It was like looking at a six and a half foot tall pillar of solid muscle.

“Well what do we have here?” He grinned, stalking across the concrete floor and towards you and Dean. “A Winchester tied up all pretty for me? It must be my lucky day.”

“And you must be the big ugly vamp I’m about to kill.” Dean fired back, twisting his hands in his bindings. His words getting a loud chuckle from the vamp, but once his amused expression fell he was driving his fist into the side of Deans face, his head being whipped around by the force.You wriggled in your seat, the instinct to kill growing tenfold.

“Hey big guy, hands off him!” You tried to leap up but didn’t get very far with your ankles and wrists bound, the failed action making you drop back into the seat. You could see Dean giving you one of his warning gazes, silently telling you to back off.

The vampire turned, his back now facing Dean as he took a step forward. “And who’s this?” He grinned, grabbing your chin forcefully with a calloused hand.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

The vampire paused, looking back over his shoulder at the struggling Winchester. “Is she yours?”

“I ain’t nobody’s, you big ass freak.” You spat, taking your opening when he turned back to you,and slamming your head into his full force. He stumbled back with a string of curses, hand leaving your chin to slap over the point of contact.

“Why you little-“

“Bitch? I know. Very original.” You deadpanned.

Lowering his hand from his head, the vampire set his gaze on your before bringing hit hand back and connecting it with your cheek in a harsh slap that echoed across the pool. Head knocked back by the sudden force, you stretched your jaw. You gave yourself a moment before looking back up at him, a bloody grin on your face.

“I know pillows that hit harder than you do.”

He raised his fist again.

“I said don’t fucking touch her!” Dean growled, the plastic chair he was bound to creaking loudly as he tried to free himself.

Where was Sam? Sam needed to find them and quick before this dude did anything to permanently harm either of you.

The vamp smiled, clearly getting a kick out of seeing a Winchester squirm in his seat. “This is mildly entertaining to watch.”

“Fuck you.” You snapped, leaning forward once again. All you wanted to do was keep this guy away from Dean.

“Alright, and that’s enough from you.”

What happened next was so quick neither of you had time to properly process what he was doing. The vamp stepped forward and nudged the cinder block with the toe of his boot. The block disappeared over the edge of the formerly still pool with a loud splash and you were pulled back with it. Deans eyes widened in pure terror as you let out the beginnings of a yell before being swallowed by the water as well. It was as if gasoline was poured onto the spark of fear in his belly. One moment he was frozen in shock and the next he was struggling harder than ever before against his bindings, eyes flicking back to the number on the edge of the pool saying his deep it was.

8 feet.

There’s no way your gonna be able to fight yourself to the surface with your ankles bound to that block.

“You son of a bitch- I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Dean hissed. The adrenaline pumping through him was at an all time high. A sudden idea tumbled into his skull and Dean was suddenly planting his feet on the floor and pushing himself back with all the energy he could muster. The plastic chair careened backwards, and between his weight and the concrete flooring, the flimsy piece of furniture broke, pieces of plastic shrapnel flying out across the floor.

Meanwhile, you were struggling. A lot. Your head was pounding, every cell screaming for oxygen as you struggled at the bottom of the pool, your hair rising upwards like seaweed as you tried to break the zip ties, your body arching in your struggle. You tilted your head in the direction of the cinder block, the one thing keeping you from the oxygen your body so desperately needed. It felt like every inch of you was throbbing, your lungs on fire.

When was the last time you were this scared for your own life? You couldn’t remember.

Blackness slowly began to seep into the corners of your vision after a solid thirty seconds of struggling. You needed to breath. You needed to take a breath. And even though you try and fight it, you suddenly inhale whether it’s air or heavily chlorinated water. Just like that a cold flow of water is thrust up your nostrils, a stream cascading into the back of your throat and nose, sending jets of pain through your body. The steady hum of the water in your ears slowly begins to fade into something softer, gradually muting into silence, one with the darkness. You give up on the fighting and thrashing, allowing the water to hold you in a suspended position beneath the surface as everything goes black, your body giving one last spasm before shutting down. . .

Dean rolled to his feet quickly as the vamp lunged at him, using the plastic handles of his chair to somewhat defend himself as the monster attacked. He blocked the first few blows before he lost the upper hand, the vamp bowling him over and sending him sliding across the floor.

“I would just give up. She’s probably gone by now.”

Dean ignored him, crawling to his feet again before slamming into him. Once again, he only got a few punches in before he was pinned beneath the massive body. Solid hands wound around Deans throat, beginning to squeeze. It only lasted a second though before Dean hears the distinct whistle of a blade moving through the air, and the vamps head is suddenly freed from his shoulders, revealing a very bloody Sam behind him.

The younger Winchester let the machete drop from his hands as he pulls the corpse off of Dean, chest heaving. “Where the hell is Y/N?”

Y/N.

Dean is up and on his feet in seconds, rushing across the concrete floor as he quickly shrugged off his jacket before diving into the lit up water of the massive pool. It’s not hard to find you, but the chlorine burns his eyes as he dives to the bottom. The rope keeping you tethered to the cement block is thick, and Dean is thankful for the blade he keeps stashed in the side of his boot.

He works fast, his adrenaline still pumping as he saws through the rope. His lungs have never burned like this before and everything in him is telling him to go to the surface for more air. . . But he doesn’t. After what feels like an eternity the rope finally snaps and Dean wishes he could let out a sigh of relief. Wrapping his arms around your torso he searches for his last bit of strength and kicks upward.

“Dean!”

That’s the first thing he hears when he breaks the surface, taking in lungfuls of air as he tries to tread water. You are dead weight in his arms, and its difficult to keep the both of you above the waterline. Through the water in his vision, he can just barely make out Sam, his brother on his knees at the edge of the pool.

“Sam- help-“

Dean somehow managed to get close enough to the lip of the pool that before he knows it, Sam has his hands underneath your armpits and is hauling you out of what almost feels like a grave. Dean sucked in a breath before bracing his hands on the edge and pushing himself out of the water. Its only when hes on his knees next to Sam that he almost freezes at the sight of you.

Almost.

You look like a rag doll, your body limp and lips a light shade of blue. Fear runs rabid through his body still and just like that he is back in action.

“Sam, cut the bindings on her hands.” Dean spoke quickly as he pressed his ear to your chest.

Heartbeat. He needed a heartbeat.

After a moment he pulled back again, rolling up his sleeves as he started the compressions on your chest.

“You are not allowed to die on me, you hear? And definitely not like this.” Dean huffed. A small part of him was afraid that he might break your ribs with the amount of pressure he was using, but the desperation to see you breath took over and he ignored it.

“Dammit Y/N-“

Tilting your head back slightly, Dean lifted your chin and pinched your nose shut before placing his mouth over yours to create a seal. He gave you two breaths before pulling back and continuing the compressions.

His eyes stayed glued to your face, hoping beyond anything he would see a sign that you were still with them.

Nothing.

And then his mouth was back on yours as he tried desperately to breathe life back into you. “C’mon sweetheart. I got some things to say to you and I can’t do that if your dead.” He pulled back, hands going back to your chest.

Sam let his brother continue the cycle two more times before he was clamping a hand over Deans shoulder.

“Dean-“

The hunter swatted him away, continuing the compressions. “She’s not dead. She’s alive. She’s alive and she’s staying that way!” He panted,ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes as he leaned back down to give you another set of rescue breaths.

Apparently he was right because barely a second after he pulled away, you coughed. . . Or more like slightly gargled. A spray of water leaving your lips as you choked.

“There we go!”

Dean let out a sigh of relief as his shoulders dropped, the hunter helping to roll you to the side as you emptied an unhealthy amount of water from your lungs. His hand rubbing your back softly. Filled with relief he let out a light chuckle, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Unfortunately your body was still too weak to keep you conscious and once the water was out of your system you were slumping back onto the wet floor, your head coming to rest on Deans thigh.

“Y/N?”

“She’s out. But we need to get out of here Dean, I took down a bunch of them but I don’t know how many vamps are still here.” Sam sighed.

There was silence, Dean too focused on the unconscious Y/N in his arms to hear his brother properly.

“Dean!”

Snapping out of his state, Dean looked up- your head resting on the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Hand me one of those towels.” He pointed behind Sam towards the rack, several towels rolled neatly and stuffed into it.

Sam popped up into his feet, quickly retrieving one before handing it over to his brother- who wrapped in snugly around you and then hoisted you into his arms.

“I got ya. I got ya.” Dean breathed, cheek coming to rest on your wet hairline. “We’re gonna get you back to the motel, and your gonna rest up and everything’s gonna be fine.”

He couldn’t tell if he was saying those words to comfort himself or you. Maybe it was both. Both would be preferred.

With Sam taking the lead, the two of them navigated the empty halls of the high school wanting nothing more than to leave it all behind.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

When you first eased into consciousness the first thing your body registered was that you were breathing. And this time it was actual air and not water. The second thing you noticed was that your body felt like lead, even your eyelids were struggling to open. Your fingers wiggled against the soft sheets as you slowly attempted to opened your eyes, the morning light trickling through the blinds of the motel room to illuminate the space.

You tried shifting your position, your body stiff as you let out a groan. Your sudden movement and noise gaining the attention of the other people in the room.

“Y/N?” Suddenly setting down his glass at the small table, he turned towards you, clearly surprised to see you awake. “Hey, how you feelin?” He spoke softly, sitting down besides you on the bed before reaching for your hand.

“What- what happened?”

Bracing your hands on the mattress as you tried and sit up. Dean was besides you in an instant, sticking a pillow behind you before helping you up to lean against the headboard. Why was Dean suddenly being nice to you? Last time you checked he was mad at you.

“You almost died, that’s what happened.” Dean scolded, sinking back down onto the side of the bed.

“Dean-“ Sam began, quickly being cut off by you.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean; almost died?”

“I mean, you almost drowned to death in a pool.”

Dean watched your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Drown? That didn’t make any sense. You knew how to swim. How the fuck could you possible drown?

“What were we doing at a pool?”

“What were we-“ Dean choked on the words, unable to believe you just asked that. “Y/N we were hunting a vamp nest.”

That’s all he had to say before it slowly came back to you. Bits and pieces falling into place. Some parts were still blank, but you remembered a good portion. Dean and you being caught. That big ass vampire. . . Something having to do with a cinder block?

“Wait Y/N, what all do you remember?” Sam spoke suddenly, worry crossing his features.

“Everything up until getting caught. . . And maybe a little more. But I don’t understand the drowning bit.”

Turning his attention from you to his brother, Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes. “Why doesn’t she remember?”

“I mean in some cases of drowning if there’s a lot of water in the system and depending on how long she was under. . . There might be some brain damage.”

“I’m sorry, brain damage?” You and Dean spoke in unison. You sat up a little straighter, suddenly worried.

“I don’t think it’s too serious, but I can call Cas. See if he can’t stop by to check on you.” Already pulling out his phone, Sam left the room leaving you and Dean to sit in silence. It felt like you sat like that forever before anything was actually said.

“Do you have any idea what I’d have to go through if you’d died last night?”Dean spoke suddenly, looking across the bed towards you.

“What?”

“Years of guilt. Crippling, self loathing guilt.” He continued, eyes darting down to look at his hands. “I know what you were trying to do last night. Antagonizing that vamp to keep him away from me. Putting yourself in harms way like you always do.”

Oh. Oh. That’s what this was about. You may not remember last night clearly, but that didn’t mean you didn’t remember the times before. It was what Dean had been angry about before as well.

“Dean-“

“You’re not supposed to die for me, Y/N.” He added. “And neither is my brother. But no matter what I say, or how hard I try to drill it into your skulls, you’re not gonna stop trying.”

“You’re right. I’m not going to stop trying. I love you too much to.” The second it left your lips, you were slamming a hand over your mouth.

Okay so maybe you did have brain damage. There’s no way a sane person would just let it slip they love someone. Nuh-uh. No way.

You watched Dean with wide eyes, trying to judge his expression. His own eyes widening for a moment before a soft and knowing smile fell across his features and he was reaching across to pull your hand away from your mouth. You didn’t realize until that moment how close he really was.

Dean gently leaned in, giving you more than enough time to pull back. . . But you didn't. His lips eventually pressing against yours softly. And no, it wasn't some sort of powerful, passionate kiss. It was a gentle and close-mouthed kiss like you do when you’re in eighth grade and you’ve never held hands before with a boy. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, seeing if you really want this. You do. More than anything.

“You know, I’m falling for you so much that it’s freaking me the hell out.” He paused. “That’s why I got mad. I don’t want you getting hurt, especially for me. Now I know that’s no excuse for me being a dick, i just- don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I lost you last night-”

“I wont. . .wait, You're falling for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you hated me?”

“I could never hate you.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro​​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​ @callmekda​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​ @orphiceseum​​​ @andthatsmyworld​​ @marvelfangirllll​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​ @gladiosamicitias​ @castielsangelsx​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​  @totallyluciferr​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​ @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​ @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​ @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​ @greenarrowhead​​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​ @brebolin​​ @biahblue​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​ @hhiggs​​​ @mila-dans​​​ @mrsmaybankhere​​ @malindacath​​  @littleagxs​

[crash-cinematic-universe]

a sickly satisfaction (ch.1)

pairing: jason dean/reader

summary: high school sucks. jason dean makes it a little better.

warnings: uuhhhh murder, language, suicide discussion

notes: i have every chapter of this written out already, so every wednesday I’ll release a new one <3 in total the story is 7,800 words! but there are some parts that are kind of short, forgive me for those.

            Eyes down. Walk fast. Stay out of their way. Three simple steps to get through the day. They had an iron grip on the school, their perfectly manicured nails digging into the oily skin of the entire student body. High School was a bloody battlefield in the war that is life. However, the epitome of cruelty, the ultimate teenage angst inducing, self-esteem crushing, happiness shattering war machine came in the form of three girls and their weak-willed sidekick. That’s right; my biggest threat in high school is Heather Chandler, Heather McNamara, Heather Duke, and Veronica Sawyer. Veronica at least has some semblance of regret and empathy-- she’s just doing what she needs to survive. Unfortunately, that means the rest of us have to struggle to keep our heads above water. 

            Thankfully, I have a sanctuary. A refrigerator heaven filled with endless isles of roadtrip snacks and hangover remedies. Of course, this junk food Garden of Eden also happens to contain my best friend, Tommy Geller. Tommy is 18, emo, and gay, so naturally we got along pretty well. He sits behind the register and lets me hang around until closing. It’s actually pretty nice-- sometimes he lets me do busywork around the store. Sure, it’s sort of pathetic that Snappy Snack Shack is my main source of serotonin, but you know what? There are worse places to be. 

            “Pop open a bottle of champagne, Tommy, because today is a special day!” I cry, pushing open the small class doors. To my delight, the store is empty. There are no irritating customers there to make me keep my voice down.

            “Oh? And why is that?” Tommy inquires, his jet black hair falling in front of his eyes. He’s tired-- and bored-- and I’m the perfect remedy for that. 

            “Today marks exactly six months since I first stepped foot in this town,” I grin. Tommy’s eyebrows perk up.

            “Really? Congrats, kid,” He’s humoring me a bit, but there is a genuine reaction beneath his sarcastic remarks. 

            “Thanks, Tommy. Y’know, that’s twice as long as my time in New Jersey and three times as long as my run in Nebraska. I have a feeling dear old aunt Maria might actually stay here for good,” I hop over the counter before grabbing a can of Coke out of the fridge. I prop me feet up on the counter, but Tommy knocks them down.

            “You know the rules, kid, no stompy boots on the counter.” I roll my eyes. He wipes off the place where my shoes were before organizing the lotto tickets. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”

            “Eh, same old same old. The Heathers were bitches, Veronica was desperately trying to keep up, and I got tripped in the hallway,” Tommy frowns.

            “God, those girls really need to get humbled,” He spits. 

            “You don’t need to tell me. They constantly act so… self-superior, as if their power doesn’t depend solely on whether or not everyone else hates themselves to believe they’re inferior to three teenage girls who are the definition of ‘peaked in high school’,” I squeeze the soda can in my hand, the metal crunching under the pressure. “They need to be more than humbled. The Heathers deserve to be dealt as much pain as they served,”

            “Watch it, kid, you’re sounding a bit homicidal,” Tommy jokes. If only he knew. 

            “It wouldn’t matter anyway. I don’t think they can die-- they’re like a Hydra. If you kill one of the Heathers, three more will grow in her place,” I sigh. Tommy looks concerned.

            “Y/n, you don’t actually want to kill them, right?” I hesitate. The silence makes Tommy worry.

            “I wouldn’t exactly lose sleep if one of them did die,” I reply nonchalantly. “It would be like a public service. Similar to killing the black mold that grows in the girl’s showers,” Tommy looks at me for a second, his expression unreadable, before turning back to his counter. 

            “That’s morbid,” he says. “You know that? You sound like a killer in the making.”

            “Sometimes bad people deserve bad things.”

            “You’re absolutely not helping your case,” Tommy laughs. I can feel someone watching me. It’s an odd feeling, but I brush it off.

            “New topic?” I ask. Tommy nods.

            A mischievous grin grows on his face. “You got a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? All of the above?” he asks hopefully.

            “No, Tommy, and don’t get your hopes up,” I chuckle, before standing up and admiring the neon sign outside.

            “Oh come on, there has to be someone. You can’t possibly go to that hellhole every day and not see at least one hot person!” Tommy groans.

            “Everyone at Westerburg is either evil or boring. No one interests me and I’m not interesting to anyone. Plus, my attention is mainly focused on getting through the day in one piece, not getting laid.” I neglect to mention the stranger I saw in the Cafe yesterday. He was pretty hot, and didn’t seem to be a douchebag-- in fact, he shot two of the douchiest douchebags with blank bullets. A real rarity at Westerburg.

            “God, you need to get out more. I see some pretty people pass through here occasionally, I’m going to start pawning you off,” he jokes.

            “Oh, god, no,” I joined in on his laughter.

            “Yup, I’m going to give every hot person your photo and your address until you finally score yourself some arm candy,” Tommy can barely form sentences through his laughter.

            “I’m gonna to get murdered if you do that, Tom,” I giggle. 

“             And that would be damn shame,” A voice calls from across the counter. I look up to see the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s the same guy from the Cafe-- although in the bright convenience store lighting he looks more like a ghost than a man. His jawline looked sharp enough to slice me in half, his cheekbones high and defined. His hair was gorgeous and his teeth were really, really nice. 

            “Uh, yeah, that would totally s-suck,” I choked. Tommy shot me the most horrified look I’ve ever seen. “I’ve, uh, seen you around. That stunt you pulled in the Cafe was wicked, man, seriously.”

            “Hey, it was a public service,” He smirked. Tommy gave me a ‘holy-shit-I’ll-leave-you-two-alone’ look before disappearing in the isles across the room. I could see him peeking through the cereal boxes. “I’m Jason Dean, but most people call me JD.” He offers his hand for me to shake.

             “Y/n, Y/n Ln,” I grip his hand firmly and try not to have a breakdown over the contact. “Y’know, there are much less extreme ways to get people to fuck off than, well, shooting them.”

              “The extreme always seems to make an impression, though, doesn’t it?” His voice was a little bit lower and he leaned in a little bit closer. Tommy was freaking out across the aisle, his eyes wide as his hand raked through his greasy hair. 

            “That it does,” I grin. “There are quite a few people in that school that deserve certain... extremities,” 

            “I think you’re right,” Jason smirked once again. I kept my composure as best I could. “Speaking of extremities, I saw you and Kurt in the hallway last week,” My face is lit ablaze as I recall the incident. Kurt had been continuously pestering me the entire day, and eventually I reached my limit.

            “I guess they aren’t joking when they say the chin is the knockout button,” Jason seems impressed, although I can’t really tell because looking him in the eyes seems like a death sentence. “Landed me three days detention, though. That sucked. Although I guess it can’t compare to whatever they’re dealing you,” At this point, one of the regulars began approaching the front doors. Tommy sprinted out before they got in, seemingly explaining that my entire love life depends on whether or not I can play it cool.

            “Eh, what can I say. I sort of dug myself a grave there,” I spoke without thinking.

            “The only graves that should’ve been dug are Kurt and Ram’s. My one critique? Use real bullets next time,” I froze. Why the fuck would I say that? I mean, I’m not wrong but I doubt JD would stick around after--

            “I like the way you think,” JD laughs, his ears tinted pink. Jason looks at me, and for a moment, I look right back. There’s something behind his eyes, something festering and enticing. I wonder if my eyes communicate anything. “I’ll see you around, Y/n L/n,” 

            “And I’ll see you, Jason Dean,” With that he winked at me, spun on his heel, and walked out the front door. Tommy practically sprinted across the room as I released every muscle I’d been tensing. I slowly melted onto the floor. Laying on the tile with my eyes trained on the bright lights overhead.

            “Oh my god,” Tommy breathed. “Oh my fucking god that was-- oh my god.”

            “I know,”

             “Did you see him? He’s like a greek god,”

            “I know,”

            “And he was totally into you, like, totally,”

            “I should’ve given him my address. I wouldn’t mind getting murdered by him.” I say breathlessly. Tommy sits on the counter and looks down at me.

            “I think I need to teach you how to talk to boys,” Tommy sighs, shock still lingering on his face.

            “Pssh, I can talk to boys just fine,” I retort.

            “You almost collapsed when you saw him,” he says flatly.

            “That was--”

            “I thought you were going to pass out when he told you his name,”

            “But I--”

            “I genuinely believed you were going to vomit when he shook your hand,”

            “Alright! I give! I can’t talk to boys! You caught me! Lock me up and never let me embarrass myself like that again!” I surrendered, throwing my arms in the air before letting them collapse over my face. “He probably thinks I’m a freak,”

            “Are you joking? He was more smitten than you were!” This caught my attention, and I tore my arms away from my eyes. 

            “Huh? Elaborate!” I snapped.

            “You seriously didn’t notice? He’d been staring at you since you stepped foot in here, didn’t you see him? At first I thought it was weird, but then I realized he was smoking hot so I decided I’d let it slide,” “Comforting,” Sarcasm drips from my words. “Y’know serial killers and stalkers can be hot, too.” I rolled my eyes.

“             I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of ‘I wouldn’t mind getting mur--’,”

            “Alright, Tommy, we get it.” I cut him off in embarrassment. “Please continue.”

            “He comes in here a lot, so I knew he was alright. He was beet red the entire time you were talking. Didn’t you see the way he was in a perpetual state of stupid smiling? Dude, he was definitely into you and really bad at hiding it,” Tommy concluded.

            I smiled a big, dumb smile. I didn’t notice the fact that he was nervous, so he probably didn’t notice that I was dying, right? 

            “Tommy, I think we might have a keeper.”

            “Thank god, I don’t think I could stand to see you go to Prom alone. That would be too depressing, even for me,” Tommy enthused. I propped my feet against the edge of the counter, staring at the tips of my boots. For the first time in a long time, Tommy is silent. I can’t get his eyes out of my head. Then again, I don’t know if I want to. 

_________

[slashersins]

What are your jesse cromeans headcanons? 👀

jesseeeeeee , my big 6′7 man ! ! ! i yooou bitch , aint ever gonna stop loving you , biiiiitch ! ! ! 

What are your jesse cromeans headcanons? 👀

being huge and mute could be seen as a set back to most . making him an easy target for rude jokes and poking fun . but don’t make that mistake . jesse is damn proud of his hegiht and build . just try and make that mistake . the poor soul won’t hear jesse behind them , looming over with a glass of whiskey in on hand , his cell i the other as he types out a vague but threatening response . the smug resolve in his face and pure violence in his eye effectively scaring the shit out of whoever was stupid enough to make fun of him . and oh , when this gathering is over , that freak of nature they were speaking about is going to be hunting them down to have his own little fun . pick at his emotions and he’ll take them apart piece by bloody piece . 

this goes for anyone talking smack about his s/o . jesse takes so much pride in himself . he only gets the best . he deserves the best . and if you’re his s/o that means you are top tier . you’re a prize . a trophy beyond others and you will be treated with the respect you deserve . if you thought he was brutal in how he handled other who talk down to him , then you cannot fathom the intensity of his rage when anyone bad mouths you . he’ll come home to you heaving and still furious . the words echoing in his head of what they said about you . of how they treated you . it’s only your soft voice and gentle hands cupping his blood covered face to soothe the his rage . it’s okay , y/n . there’s nothing left of them . they can’t hurt you anymore . he made sure of it . now let him hold you .

jesse is actually a cuddle bug , and he loves being little spoon just as much as he loves being big spoon . toss your leg over his hip as he faces away from you and press your face into his back as you try to hold his hand across his chest . feelings you pressed against him has him chuckling with silent laughter . his little jet pack clinging to him is precious and fuck , if it doesn’t make him feel utterly loved and adored . 

if he’s the one cuddling you then be prepared . his arms are vice grips and he even wraps his long legs around you , keeping you in place . he might have his phone in one hand , typing out responses instead of signing so he can have his forehead on yours . 

need to pee while he’s cuddling you like this ? well , you better hold it . jesse is a bit of a sadist and will smirk as you squirm and pout . he’ll let you go eventually but once your back within arm’s reach your back to jesse acting like a barnacle on a boat . 

jesse is insecure . no matter what kind of air he tries to give himself , what kind of smug impression or how powerful he makes himself look , he feels terribly about himself . bouts of depression and self hate happen , even if not often . it only got worse when his face was disfigured . and sometimes he’ll punch out each mirror he glances at in rage . he’s feels ugly and weak .

remind him that he’s still handsome . still beautiful . remind him of how strong he is to have went through so much and still lived . how proud you are that he hasn’t given up . that you love every part of him . and yes , even if his face is disfigured it’s his face . and you love his face . his strong jaw , his beautiful eye , the way his lips quirk into a smile . 

he won’t ever admit it , unless he is drunk and in a depressed stupor , but your touch , your love , your affection , it means so much to him . he loves you , your name . you help save him each time he gets this way . you’re his treasure . his precious partner . 

jesse never intended you to find out about his hobby . if and when you do he’s on edge . and the fear of losing yet another loved one ( remember , jesse is a widower ) will turn him to more violent options to keep you if you try to run . if you decided you need space , he’ll give it to you , in his own way . he’s always watching , so many cameras and even his own thugs following you around to keep tabs . but he doesn’t force himself on you while you think of things . 

if you decide to stay , jesse is relieved . and even if you found out unintentionally , his trust is slighty broken . it can be mended with time and loyalty and commitment . more than likely , if you do stay , jesse will ask you to marry him to prove to him that you accept him completely . he needs you bound to him . 

if you want to leave him . . . that’s when jesse becomes the monster he didn’t want to . you aren’t reduced to some little piggy that he’ll kill or torture , but you will be reduced to his precious little piggy . don’t you see how he needs you ? loves you ? he opened himself to you and you want to leave ? you can’t you don’t have a choice . you were his the moment you looked at his face , took him in and called him handsome without the slightest bit of a lie on your face . nothing but pure sensitivity . how can you expect to leave him . you might find yourself locked in a room , a lock cuff on your ankle to keep you from running . 

these are just a few , i hope you liked them !

[wildandsexyjacks]

Your Smile and You - Pt.6

Pairing: Han Seungwoo + Reader

Genre: Fluff + Friends to Lovers AU

Word count: 1,6k

Warnings: mild swearing

previous

It’s his birthday, and Seungwoo is still mad. 

He hasn’t called or texted in forever, and it feels like there’s no way of fixing this anymore. You missed your chance probably sometime around three days ago when you and Seungsik had lunch together - a whole week after that night at Seungwoo’s place. You had planned on telling him about your relationship that day but ended up chickening out at the last moment, his Instagram post was more than enough proof that you had the opportunity to do it. Seungwoo liked the picture, and that was the last you’d seen from him. 

That’s the reason you’re currently looking through the glass door of the bar he’s having his birthday party at, pondering whether to go in or just come back home. He didn’t invite you - you only found out he was there because Seungyoun tagged him in a facebook picture twenty minutes ago - and maybe you should take that as a hint that he doesn’t want you there, but it’s his birthday, and he looks so happy, and you miss him so much. As you watch Seungwoo laugh - you can practically hear it, the sound’s engraved in your heart by now - you wonder if it’s possible for anyone to miss anything as much as you miss him, and you’ve only been apart for ten days.

Most of his friends are there, drinking and laughing. Through the glass you see Seungyoun entertaining the group with what seems like a funny story and wonder if he’s told anyone about the night he caught you sneaking out of their apartment. 

Seungwoo punches his shoulder lightly, they all laugh. God, just looking at him makes your heart hurt. 

Seungsik hasn’t arrived yet - or maybe he’s already left - and you could go and talk to Seungwoo if you wanted to, but how would he feel about it? If he wanted to talk to you, he would’ve responded to your texts or that one time you drunk-dialed. If he wanted to talk to you, he would’ve invited you to his birthday party.

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you nearly jump in surprise. 

“Are you going in or...?” the boy asks.

Jet black hair, cute dimples, and dangling silver earrings, you remember him as one of your brother’s high-school friends. Lim Sejun.

Fuck.

He recognizes you too by the way his eyes grow wide when you turn around to face him, but before he has a chance to say anything you step aside from where you previously stood blocking the entrance and shake your head.

“No, no, I was just leaving actually.”

He frowns, looking at the small gift box in your hands.

“Are you sure?” You nod furiously “Do you want me to take this to Seungwoo?”

“NO!” hugging the box, you take one more step away from him and sigh “I’ll do it another time, it’s fine. In fact, I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone you saw me here.”

Sejun considers it for a moment then shrugs. 

“Whatever.”

He opens the door and walks straight up to Seungwoo, then whispers something in his ear while pointing in your direction.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You stare in horror as Seungwoo squints at the door. Now that he knows you’re there, you have no choice but to go in or things will only get worse. You put the small box back in your purse, then push the door open and walk slowly in his direction, stopping halfway.

His group of friends finally started to notice something’s going on, and the boys look from you to him with a variety of confused faces. Sejun smiles cheekily and you would go there and murder him on the spot if you weren’t too busy trying to predict Seungwoo’s next move.

His expression is unreadable but there’s no time to really think about it because he’s a long-legged son of a bitch and in three wide steps he’s standing right in front of you. He grabs your wrist, drags you out of the bar and away from everyone’s eyes, then lets go when you’re standing on the sidewalk.

Tears welling up, you prepare yourself to apologize for ruining his birthday when he takes your face between his huge hands and leans in to kiss you.

It’s like finally coming home after a long, horrible day. The winter air is cold on your cheeks and Seungwoo is not wearing a jacket over his thin baby blue sweater, but neither of you cares while he moves his hands from your face to your lower back and you wrap your arms around his neck, butterflies set free in your stomach and a sense of belonging you have never felt before, your heart beating so fast and loud you’re sure he can hear it.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Seungwoo confesses against your lips “These past ten days were the worst. You have no idea.”

“Oh, trust me, I do.” You stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his nose “You know, I more than like you too, I’m sorry I didn’t say it back the other day.”

He lets out an embarrassed laugh and leans in again, this time to rest his forehead on your shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“I thought we had silently agreed to not talk about this.”

“Never!” You giggle, caressing his back. “How could I? It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Even though there’s no sound, you feel his body shake with laughter.

“I don’t think you’ve had many good boyfriends in the past, then.” Seungwoo mumbles, his voice muffled by the fabric of your winter coat.

“You’re my first boyfriend ever.” you explain, cradling his head while he nuzzles your neck “That’s why I’m so bad at it.”

“No! You’re not bad, it’s just...” he sighs, stepping back to look in your eyes “I don’t know. It’s a difficult situation. I reacted poorly and I’m sorry for that, I promise I won’t push you anymore. We can do it when you’re ready.”

You bite your lip and reach for the box inside your purse. Seungwoo’s eyes widen as you extend your hand, the small box resting on your palm.

“Happy birthday.” 

He takes a closer look. It’s a tiny, velvety, black box, made for jewelry. Biting back a smile, Seungwoo lifts one eyebrow.

“I don’t know, shouldn’t you get on one knee for this?”

You groan and he laughs. Rolling your eyes, you push the box against his chest.

“Just take it, will you?”

He opens the box, and his breath gets caught in his throat. Inside lies a small fox keychain, with a set of keys attached to it.

“That’s... Is this...?”

“Keys to my place, yes. You’re welcome at all times.” he stares at you, dumbfounded, as you take a step forward to wrap your arms around his neck again “Let’s tell Seungsik. Let’s tell everyone.”

Seungwoo smiles real big, then chews on his lower lip, uncertain.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured to-“

“One hundred percent sure.” you cut in “If you’re free tomorrow, we can crash my family’s Christmas party and kill several birds with just one stone.”

Seungwoo laughs.

“Okay, alright, for someone who’s been stalling for over six months, you’re in quite a hurry right now, huh?” with an amused smile, he presses a kiss to your forehead “No need to rush, let’s discuss this again in the morning. For now, how about we go inside and I introduce you to my friends?” nodding towards the door, Seungwoo offers his hand “They’re dying to meet my secret girlfriend.”

You take his hand, laughing a little. After three steps, however, Seungwoo stops, looking at you with curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“How did you know I was here, by the way? I didn’t even know I was coming until like half an hour ago.”

Oh. 

“Facebook. Knowing it’s a surprise party makes me feel a lot less shitty, though.” you confess “I was spying on you through the glass like a creeper because I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.”

He cackles - that endearing, loud sound you adore.

“Sejun used the words lovingly staring instead of spying, but call it what you want.” bringing your intertwined fingers to his lips, he kisses your knuckles. “I wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate, Seungyoun put this together and then forced me to leave the house. I was about to call you when Sejun arrived, anyway, but you’re still allowed to ignore that you literally ran away from Seungyoun when you bumped into him that other night - yes, he told me - and give him hell for not inviting you if you want.”

You pout.

“No, I want to be the cool girlfriend so your friends won’t have reasons to not like me.” Before he opens the door, you squeeze his hand to get his attention. “Wish me luck.”

Seungwoo shakes his head, amused.

“You don’t need luck, I’m sure they’ll love you.”

When you finally go inside, his friends cheer loudly and line up to introduce themselves. Seungwoo calls out his roommate for not inviting you to the party, to which after a second of hesitation he shamelessly bullshits his way out declaring he posted that picture on facebook for a reason. Sejun, on the other hand, exclaims that no, there’s no need to thank him or even pay him several drinks, he just did what anyone would do after seeing their friend depressed for days on no end - then a very embarrassed Seungwoo smacks him upside the head. 

Your boyfriend - boyfriend!! - wants to leave early so he can test the keys you just gave him, but his friends are willing to tell you the funniest and most embarrassing Seungwoo-related stories and you’re dying to listen to every single one of them, so you convince him to stay for a little longer. 

He was right about you meeting his friends, after all. You’ll get along just fine.

-

and that marks the end of my first attempt at a chaptered fic, and honestly i’ll prob never do it again lmao if you’d like to see seungsik’s reaction to the news let me know and i’ll write a short bonus

i hope ya’ll are happy and healthy. please be safe and stay home if you can.

[deviant3lover]

Can you do more headcanons for the shitty teen squads? I really love them. Plus I love all of your works :)

Aha! Funny you should ask, because I started working on this one just before I saw your ask!

Without further ado…

Even more trio headcanons!!

Genos, being a regular internet user, is well aware of the various memes circulating the media. However, he doesn’t have much of a close affinity to them, and only really uses them to mock someone online. Saitama on the other hand is oblivious, and Genos occasionally has to explain what a meme means for him to get it.

Never invite Genos to roast you. He will ruin your life. He already does it unintentionally with Saitama with his baldness, but when he does it on purpose? 

Random Bitch: He’s a pretty good lay, though his nose was pretty ugly. He kept going on and on about how much he wanted to marry me- gross shit, I know, but if he keeps giving me the check, I’ll suck up to him and say I love him too.

Genos: *murderous, unimpressed glare* You expect me to believe that there’s someone who’d willingly sleep with you, and not immediately kill themselves afterwards?

Random Bitch:

Metal Bat has one hell of a sweet tooth. He’s got his heart set on chocolate, but he’s also fond of the classics: the aforementioned, vanilla, and cookies and cream when it comes to ice cream. He loves the cola flavoured lollipops, and if he had to get himself a boba tea, he’d go for the Taro flavour: it’s just too good to him. He didn’t care too much for strawberry, but Zenko’s love for it encouraged him to develop a liking towards it. His go-to snacks are Oreos, home made chocolate fudge, and pocky; with the occasional cola lollipop if he’s got to focus on something and can’t afford to get distracted by constantly chowing down on sweets.

His metabolism isn’t as nearly insane (practically inhuman) as Garou’s or Genos’s, but it’s more than fast enough to make him avoid gaining weight from them. Paired with his delinquent persona, (and buying sweets incognito from cutesy sweet shops the same way that King buys video games) most people are often surprised when he has a strong liking for them.

Since Genos uses intense firepower, he also has a hydraulic cooling system to cool him down. The only times where he steams up is during or after a fight when he’s used his fuel intensively, and the steam primarily comes from his arms, the jets from behind his shoulders, and occasionally his mouth if the arms use far more firepower than usual. For the times where he’s really, really worked up emotionally (mortified, furious, etc) bits of steam can be seen coming from his mouth, but it’s never extreme enough to get his whole body to follow suit. Apart from battle, his body is usually safe to touch due to how efficient his cooling system is: that includes the times when he’s angry, but not getting ready to fight. (I will die on this hill for this headcanon. >:0!!)

When it comes to people he respects, Genos deliberately lies or hides anything relating to him that might trouble them. That also includes his true thoughts on what you’re enamored with, his private disgust at your gross habits, and redirecting attention away from potentially offensive topics towards something that might catch your interest. Any mortifying but true things said about yourself has him in silence, unsure of how to navigate the topic without offending you.

Contrary to popular belief, Genos is actually pretty levelheaded when people insult Saitama online. He’s seen everything that people have to say about Saitama, and knows that fighting every fight- both small and huge- on the Internet isn’t worth it, since there’s always going to be horrible things said about him by people he’s unlikely to ever meet in person. Besides, no one would listen to some random user saying that Caped Baldy isn’t all that bad, and he’d rather not use his popularity as Demon Cyborg to attract unwanted attention to the both of them by praising Caped Baldy when they have better things to do. (*cough* shopping for discounts with his precious sensei *cough*) He deletes his history when he’s done browsing and subtly tries to steer Saitama away from sites that he knows are saying horrible stuff about him when his Sensei gets interested. It’s when people insult Saitama directly (e.g. In person, a fan letter that Saitama reads) that makes him angry.

Genos hates the thought of being inexperienced or having his attempts end in a failure, but he loathes it if Saitama bears witness to it. He’s far more passionate and attentive whenever his teacher is involved in any way to what he’s doing, in the hopes that perhaps, seeing his disciple taking his role seriously and not missing anything/using his time to slack off, Saitama would take him more seriously in return and tell him the true secret to his strength. (Which he already gave, poor Genos.)

When he’s caught off guard and rendered to near death by his opponents, it wasn’t because he underestimated them: it was because Genos overestimated his own strength, thinking that it was enough to kill them. He treats any and every threat seriously, no matter how weak or strong looking they are. From the meek, gross looking toilet monster, to the horrifying titanic threat that is Elder Centipede, Genos will engage his opponent with the intent of eliminating the threat by any means. He knows that weak looking monsters can house unimaginable strength as a surprise attack, and strong looking monsters could have unexpected powers that could catch him off guard. He’d never laugh or smile during a fight, knowing that his opponent is inherently dangerous and likely to endanger countless lives if they’re not eliminated.

(This is dark, but: he’s also the only member in the trio that’s killed people before, if not the most willing if push comes to shove.)

While he doesn’t care too much about his popularity, he does know that his fan clubs can be a powerful resource and will occasionally (and subtly) cater to them. His main way of doing so is buying himself clothes to make him look handsome (which he does more frequently thanks to the money he gets as an S-class,) and to keep up the ‘mysterious, alluring Cyborg Prince’ persona by refusing interviews and close relations with his fans: basically, by being himself. (Which he is more than willing to do.)

Genos, despite clearly stating his opinions on hero teams, (summary: he thinks they suck) doesn’t actually mind teaming up with other heroes on occasion. He knows that some heroes are capable of doing tasks that he wouldn’t do too well at, or would be able to do at all (especially if it’s ensuring the welfare of a group of people,) and will willingly team up if he thinks it’s for the best. It’s when those heroes make teams that they continuously depend on that he starts losing respect for them.

Inspired by this. One of his favorite clothing brands is Grin and Bears, particularly their men’s hoodies section. Alongside Amai Mask, Genos has occasionally been offered to be sponsored by several clothing brands due to how well he wears his designer clothing.

Genos has a good reason for liking oiled sardines. The food in particular was part of his old life where his family couldn’t afford much, and bought canned food more often than not. Vegetables and breads are nice and cheap, but are fairly bland. Oiled sardines is far more flavorful, and it was one of the first foods that he had tried that wasn’t the former two: unsurprisingly, he soon after became a fan of them.

Garou prefers hearty, nutrient rich foods. While he doesn’t have one favourite meal in particular, well rounded meals that involve vegetables and meats will have him wolfing it down. That includes steaks with nice veggies like potatoes and carrots and salads: it’s fairly balanced and there’s plenty to eat, hence his choice to go to a steak house to replenish his strength.

Don’t give Garou caffeine. He’s batshit insane and bloodthirsty when he’s high on it, and he’s far more irritable than he usually is when he crashes.

Genos doesn’t have fond memories of his birthday. His parents loved him, but would overwork themselves to get him a gift and it made him feel guilty every time, even though he insisted that they don’t go through the trouble. He never made plans to tell Saitama, but that information was included in his registration sheet to the H.A. and it was broadcasted on every talk show and website: needless to say, he caught wind of it. Like the festival, Saitama insists that they celebrate, and while Genos can’t completely shake off his bad experiences of it + fully engage and understand why Saitama is doing this, he’s slowly (somewhat reluctantly) getting more curious on what experiencing a good birthday is like. Saitama got him a cake on sale with a few coupons, and it looks kind of basic and a little corny with the decorations, but Genos still thanks Saitama for it and eats it all the same. Genos doesn’t have a particular favourite flavour in regards to sweets. At least, not yet. 

Badd remembers his birthdays somewhat bittersweetly, remembering his younger days: the times where he was surrounded by his family and watching YouTube videos/live sport matches with his friends, digging into fast foods like fish and chips and eating watermelon and ice cream on a hot summer’s day. Those days were gone now, but Zenko and the few friends that stood by his side even when he was swamped with work usually band together to give him a nice day off from fans, school, and the HA to celebrate his birthday. It’s a smaller circle than before, but he still cherishes those who he came to love as his found family and enjoys them, looking back on his past with a hint of nostalgia. His cake is always chocolate with Oreos. 

Garou… his birthdays were lonely, and he remembers them bitterly. There was one time where he invited everyone in his class to his party and no one showed up. 

This occasion actually happened prior to Tacchan, so while young!Garou was heartbroken, he tried to be optimistic and justified the incident to himself. It’s probably because he doesn’t know everyone that well… Maybe others are busy? Tests were coming up soon and everyone had to study: it’s okay! It makes sense why no one could come! That is, of course, until the obvious happened, and he lost faith in the people around him. Garou never told Bang when his birthday was, and Bang never pried, seeing the bitterness and determination in Garou’s heart to become stronger, and respecting his decision not to tell him. To this day, Garou treats his birthday like any other day, if he still remembers when it was.

Special Request by @rayadraws. How do Garou, Badd, Tareo, and Zenko react to Saitama?

I’ve actually loved her headcanon for Garou being wary and slightly afraid around Saitama at the start! So I believe that’s what he’ll initially be like around him. As time goes on, he’ll slowly relax and be subtly curious about him. Garou will crack jokes and teases from time to time, and while he does think it’s funny when Saitama sulks and complains about the trio teasing him for his baldness from time to time, he can’t stop the brief spike of fear that makes him freeze on instinct when Saitama is visibly angry. It’s an ambivalent situation for Garou: he’ll say no to Saitama asking if he can get something from the store, saying that ‘your tincan disciple can get it himself,’ but the serious, slightly furious face that Saitama puts on has him in silence for a few moments, before letting (forcing) out a seemingly lazy and nonchalant sigh and heading out the door to get it, his heart rate faster than it was a few moments ago.

His dreams can involve Saitama buying the most hideous pair of crocs and sporting a dopey face full of happiness at finding such a great discount, Dream!Garou groaning in disgust and walking away from him to do something else.

His nightmares can involve the feeling of rubber on his neck, slowly choking him as the bald man looks him straight in the eye above him, eyes startlingly dead and empty, daring him to make a move. His face could be replaced with that of a blank faced mannequin and hardly a difference can be seen. Nightmare!Garou remembers escaping somehow, jumping high enough to land himself in the cold, dark, suffocating expanse of space, and thinking to himself that he’d rather die up there rather than come back down to a desolate, barren earth: a lone man waiting to kill him as soon as he enters its atmosphere.

Garou’s relationship with Saitama, at first glance, is a seemingly normal one with the former lazing around his house and eating his food like an inconsiderate houseguest; but his feelings are anything but. As much as he pretends to not care much about Saitama, he’d listen carefully to what he has to say if he’s serious, and is a little more well behaved and observant around him. If Saitama imparts some of his rare pieces of advice, Garou would, on the outside, make a dull and uninterested note of it, but in reality he’d carefully consider his words in private.

- Badd knew that Saitama and Genos are a package deal, but when he found out that Saitama is Genos’s teacher, he’s incredulous. 

‘You serious, man? This guy? What’s he even gonna teach ya?’ 

Seeing Genos’s glower and hours of him chewing out Badd while lavishing praises on sensei’s strength, wisdom, and humility drove home the point to Badd, who was practically groaning in exasperation and telling him that he gets it, just to get Genos to stop berating him. Seeing Saitama’s power finally makes him understand. 

He’s somewhat more polite around him now, knowing that this is someone Genos respects, and Badd seeing Saitama living life and just generally being a good guy makes Badd’s opinion of him slowly grow. He sympathises with Saitama’s baldness, and out of the trio, is the least likely to tease him for it: deliberately or not. Badd himself shudders at the thought of losing his beloved pompadour, so he’s usually the one to say ‘quit it, you’re bumming him out’ to Genos whenever he’s unintentionally hurting Saitama’s feelings. Or a simple ‘holy shit Garou, stop’ when Garou makes a melodramatic re-enactment of Saitama’s offended reaction to Konbu’s supposed ‘benefits’ that Genos had informed him of. (Genos mentioned the event, and now they know all about it.)

Tareo, at first, doesn’t recognize him since he usually focuses on the cool heroes. When he finds out Saitama’s hero name, he’s taken aback. ‘You’re the Caped Baldy??’ He asks, with what sounded to be awe. 

Apart from internally cringing at the name, Saitama is briefly (and pleasantly surprised) and was about to say yes, before Tareo ran over to Garou and whispered to him (quite loudly) to ‘be careful ojisan! That bald guy over there is bad news!’

(Saitama’s blank face was screwed on for a good 10 seconds.)

He’s wary of Saitama, asking questions such as ‘didn’t you steal credit from other heroes when the sea monsters attacked?’ for some time. It’s through Garou’s, Badd’s, and Genos’s good opinion of the man that Tareo slowly begins to trust that Saitama is a good person. ‘If uncle and his friends thinks he’s nice, maybe he’s not so bad…’

Same with Garou, Tareo refers to him as ‘ojisan.’ ;)c

Zenko… man, the main reason why I took so long creating this post is because I wouldn’t know how Zenko would react until I thought about it carefully.

Like Tareo, she’s wary and slightly antagonistic towards him once she realises who he is, though less so than Tareo since it’s a little difficult to steal credit from an S-Class like him: Metal Bat is one of those heroes who can take down most monsters by himself, so I imagine Zenko wouldn’t be too worried about Caped Baldy taking the credit, but rather, she’d be wary of him trying something else to drag her brother through the mud.

She may not cuss him out, or even outwardly call him a Baldy, but she can be just as strong willed as her brother. Her initial relationship with Saitama can be seen mostly as this:

She does know that while Badd has a hot temper, can be forgetful, and stirs up trouble sometimes, she also knows that he harbours a serious hatred for cowards and self centred cheats that put themselves over others. The fact that Badd isn’t threatening Saitama to (fuck off) leave him and his sister alone reassures her to some extent into believing that maybe the rumors aren’t true: she’s had her share of getting angry on Badd’s behalf when the news or gossip columns twist the truth about her brother, especially in a bad light, so she carefully observes him to see if he’s the person that most people make him out to be.

Like her brother, her opinion of him slowly grows. She’s assertive, but not rude. She won’t call him a Baldy or old man like Tareo or Tatsumaki, no matter how angry she gets. There’s just some buttons you don’t press, and Zenko doesn’t want to become a mean spirited person.

She does get sort of grossed out by some of his clothing choices and will confront him on it sooner or later, saying that ‘Mr Saitama, your clothes look ugly’ and that maybe he should start looking for better ones.

(This is also the perfect opportunity to get her to drag him shopping with her: clothes for the both of them! And she’s definitely going to pick out some clothes for Saitama. 

I imagine that at the beginning, her fashion senses were still developing, and while she has her heart in the right place, it was a hit(?) or miss at the time. It gets way better later on, and she’s a little fashionista! Makeup and clothing are sure to look good on you when she picks them out herself~ But for this headcanon, you can decide if her fashion senses are more polished, or are still in development. Saitama’s fate of looking good/bad is up to you. ;3c)

Shared Traits

Badd doesn’t use any sort of weird quirk for how he texts. His source for punctuation is autocorrect and never exactly uses full stops unless he’s having a serious conversation: but even then, it’s fairly uncommon.

But he does use words and slangs like ‘dude’ and shortened words like ‘y’all.’

His swears are more relaxed in text, but only because you can’t hear his rough voice saying them; either way, he usually isn’t actually trying to intimidate you. When he gets angry, however, you can definitely feel the threats, the intimidation, and the tightly leashed anger dripping off of his words just as much as when he says them in person. If he’s angry, you’ll know it.

If he has time and is invested in a conversation, he likes using the occasional gif or emoticon but isn’t obnoxious with it.

Sometimes when he’s busy and doesn’t care, he uses all caps because he doesn’t want to deal with his words being autocorrected to something else. This is usually seen when he’s about to get into a fight.

When you ask him where he is when he’s out, he’s equally likely to text you the name of the place, or send you a photo of where he is.

When it’s a photo of Zenko, especially if it’s her with a prize or a trophy or a doll and she’s being cute, he spams hearts and praises of her.

Genos has perfect punctuation and grammar.

You know that annoying moment when the person you’re texting seemingly is texting a long ass message, only for it to come out as something like ‘ok’? Yeah… Genos never does that. (Unless he wants to say something important (and likely very personal) but is too reluctant to say it, and opts for something more mundane.)

He sends entire paragraphs if he’s explaining something or debriefing someone on some information.

His sentences are curt if he’s busy. It’ll come off as cold and rude to most people when they read them.

His recent emojis section has all the ones he can just text quickly if he’s far too busy to make sentences. Handy if he only has one arm or taking a breather from a monster fight.

Garou does not use autocorrect.

He’s obnoxious when he texts.

Memes, gifs, I wIlL bEaT tHe HeRo HuNtEr (With the spongebob meme template: specifically designed to mock heroes and wannabes who think they can take him down), spamming ‘answer me bitch’ to his poor recipient over and over until they reply, using so. Many. Emojis. For the sole purpose of annoying you.

If he’s texting Tareo, he’s pretty casual.

Hey lil turd I got some coupons for ice cream

I hate ice cream

Take them or im throwing them out

The no brainer: Genos and Garou are masters at eating competitions. Garou wolfs it all down quickly, whilst Genos is more dignified about how he eats, if the super spicy udon competition he had with Saitama is any indication. Badd can keep up, (mama didn’t raise no quitter!) but he’ll be struggling to get a grip on himself and stay awake.

If he wanted to, Genos can keep on eating for an extended period of time, limited only by the capacity of his fuel engines. (Which, by our stomach’s standards, is practically infinite for how much he can eat in so short a time and still keep going for hours.) His body can essentially turn the foods and drinks he ingests either into nutrients for the brain, or fuel for his firepower: continuously keeping his engines active will digest what he eats on a semi-fast level.

If the trio do end up becoming friends in canon, I imagine that they’d pick up on each other’s traits subconsciously. Badd’s and Genos’s smirks are faint facsimiles of Garou’s. Badd and Garou take after Genos’s protectiveness over items on sale at the supermarket, knowing how rare the occasion can be to get discounts for some in particular. Genos and Garou say ‘haah?’ in an intimidating manner, on instinct, to people they don’t like thanks to Badd. And of course, all three swear more often, usually under their breaths whenever something goes wrong, or to quietly insult someone without causing a scene.

It’s pretty obvious that Genos prefers slim fitting clothing. Anything too baggy will catch/snag and tear on his surroundings and hinder his ability to use his weapons. Badd prefers slightly loose clothing since he’s pretty hot tempered and he gets worked up for fights pretty easily, and clammy clothes aren’t exactly comfortable. Garou is a mix of both: when it comes to clothing, it’s either the clothes are light and form fitting enough to be second skin so he doesn’t have to worry about it snagging, or the clothes are just the right amount of loose to make him look decent, but not like he’s wearing painted on clothing. He’s alright with either option. Emphasis on form fitting. He canonically hates clothes that restrict his movements, and his usual shirt is made of normal, lightweight fabric, so Garou won’t be too keen on the idea of wearing a skin tight bodysuit made of latex or leather.

[msjr0119]

The Greatest Show

Never Enough - Part 1

A new series- all chapters are based on each song from ‘The Greatest Showman’

Characters belong to Pixelberry except MC - Amber Smith-Beaumont

Warnings: Swearing, sarcasm 😉, smut

Tags - using combined tagged list, if you want to be removed please let me know 👍🏼

@annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @dcbbw @qammh-blog @nz1091 @beardedoafdonutwagon @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @princess-geek @jared2612 @desiree-0816

******

“Hi Brett.” Maxwell could tell she was nervous, hoping that she was strong enough to stand her ground and dump the man that had made her life miserable. No one should have to go through what she had been through. She was petrified of the man- afraid to leave him incase he actually killed her next time. Thinking back to the last incident- he had wished that himself and Bertrand had just dragged her out of the States.

Arriving at the hospital, the two brothers had heard from their cousins friend Daniel - a concerned phone call made them immediately catch a flight to New York. Keeping Amber’s identity hidden from those in Cordonia- it didn’t help them at all. If they had informed the royal family about their family member needing their support they had hoped that they would have allowed them to use the royal jet in these types of circumstances. However they chose not to.

“Hey Daniel, thanks for letting us know? Where is she? Is she okay? Where’s that arsehole?”

“Maxwell calm down. Speaking like that isn’t going to help the situation.” Bertrand was furious- but knew how to keep an stoic expression.

“He became jealous, and broke her arm. Left her in the street- witnesses said she screamed ‘you’ve broken my arm- I need to get to hospital.’ He apparently called her stupid- and that she was attention seeking. The two women who brought her in stayed with her and contacted me. When I arrived the staff said that she was shaken up- petrified, they tried to fix her arm by forcing it back into place but it wouldn’t work. She had surgery immediately and it’s fine.”

“Well it’s not too bad then.”

“Bertrand are you fucking crazy? That bastard broke her arm!”

“What I meant to say, it’s not as bad as it was the last time we was here when she was admitted with a traumatic brain injury. It could have been worse. He could have potentially killed her. What have the police said?”

“That’s the bad news. She is refusing to press charges. He has this hold over her, it’s so frustrating. No one can get through to her. We’ve all tried.” Daniel explained sadly, the two brothers knew Amber’s friends were all trying their best to keep her safe. Walking into her room, she looked as if she had seen two ghosts.

“Wh-What are you doing here? I’m fine!”

“Of course you are Amber. When are you going to wake up? He’s dangerous. You need to come back with us.”

“I... I can’t. He said if I ever left him....”

“If you left him what? He should be in prison. Why the fuck aren’t you pressing charges?”

“He said if I ever left him he would hurt those close to me. I’m scared Max, I’m so scared. But I’ve made my bed- I’ve forgiven him time after time.”

“Cut with the crap! You leave him, stay with us at Ramsford- your friends can get an injunction put out against him. We can look after you. You need to think about yourself- who knows you may find someone else who will love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“I’m collateral damage. Who the fuck would touch me? I always choose arseholes, I think I’m just destined to live that way.”

Overhearing Brett shouting down the phone, Maxwell snatched the phone off her- putting it on loudspeaker, forgetting about the other people in the cabin.

“What is your issue you arsehole? Think you’re all big and hard talking to a lady like that?”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“This is your worse nightmare buddy! Amber just wants to say au reviour, adios, ciao. Come near her again and I’ll break your fucking neck!”

“Amber are you fucking this douche behind my back?”

“No he’s my fucking cousin! You and I are over Brett. I’ve forgiven you so many times, all the promises about changing, loving me. They were all lies.”

“Amber baby.”

“Don’t Amber baby me. You had your chance and you blew it.”

“No one splits up with Brett Parker! Get your fat ugly body back to New York now! Or I’ll come and collect you myself.”

“She is not fucking fat nor ugly you dipshit. She is beautiful. You just couldn’t see that you had a fucking diamond in front of you. Someone else will grab her with both hands and treat her like the fucking god damn goddess she is!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are! No one talks to me like that!”

“Goodbye wanker.”

“Amber, I know where you are. Watch your back! You are mine.”

“No. I am my own person, I don’t belong to anyone. Go and search the whole of Canada for me then. You are in my past, and I am looking forward to my future without you in it! You thought you could really make me moan, I had better sex all alone. See, I don't know why I liked you so much. I gave you all, of my trust. I told you, I loved you, now that's all down the drain. You put me through pain, I want to let you know how I feel. Fuck you, I don’t want you back.” Abruptly hanging up the call, Amber was surprised with herself- feeling relieved. Maxwell whispered I’m so proud of you- you are a true Beaumont. ‘High fiving’ her he held her tight comforting her.

*****

Olivia overheard the phone call, gesturing for the others to become mute- they all listened gobsmacked. Mainly due to the anger that Maxwell had released, he was always the happy lord, the dopey one- they had never heard him react this way before never mind hearing him swear so much without breathing for air.

“Shit! Who is she on the phone to?”

“Her boyfriend!”

“She has a boyfriend?” Leo asked surprised.

“Not anymore by the sounds of it. Shh. Act normal!” Olivia suggested, wanting more gossip from Amber- she knew she would have to wait as it could be raw. Focusing her gaze towards Drake, she raised her eyebrow. Noticing the look, he wanted to know what was going through the duchesses mind.

“Just spit it out Liv, I know you’re wanting to say something.”

“Funny. She kisses you. Then she dumps her mystery boyfriend. Are you a home wrecker Walker? Are you going to swoop her into your arms now she’s free and single?”

“No I am not going to do that. He’s a wanker towards her. She doesn’t deserve that!”

“Okay, whatever. Keep that denial inside that commoner heart of yours. What are the sleeping arrangements anyway?”

“Well I thought you and Amber share my bed, Liam and Leo take the spare bed and myself and Maxwell will share the sofa. I’ve drawn the short straw so you should all be grateful.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I shall be sleeping with Liam in the spare bed. Whilst we are behind closed doors away from the other bitches I shall be taking this opportunity to stay with Liam. You guys decide what you are doing between you all.”

“Well I agree with you Liv. But I also vote that I share the sofa with Maxwell, ohhh that leaves Drake and Amber in his bed. Great plan guys.” Olivia and Liam spat their drinks out, laughing at Drakes reaction to Leo’s suggestion. No need to thank me Walker, Leo said whilst winking.

*****

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me you’re family. I love you. And right now I am so fucking proud of you! We need to celebrate with the others.”

“First things first.” Maxwell looked confused at Amber, before watching her remove the SIM card, snapping it in half- and throwing it away in the trash bin. “Now I’m ready to celebrate.” Kissing her on the forehead, he now knew her future was bright and she could come alive. Walking back into the room, Amber and Maxwell witnessed Drake and Leo sat down covering their ears.

“HEY! WHY ARE YOU GUYS DOING THAT?” Maxwell shouted.

“LIAM AND OLIVIA THEY’VE ONLY BEEN UPSTAIRS TWO MINUTES.” Amber burst out laughing, ignoring the two love birds she blanked the repetitive moans that echoed through the walls. Eventually there was silence.

“Guys, you can remove your hands. I think there will be a new crown prince or princess on their way sooner rather than later.”

“Thank fuck for that. At least when we are in Lythikos tomorrow their rooms will be miles away from ours. Max I’m started to feel tired, what about you?”

“I’m fine me buddy. I’ve had an unexpected adrenaline rush!”

“Really you look tired?” Maxwell looked confused before seeing Leo tilt his head towards Drake then to Amber. Ohhh he’s trying to set them two up- good thinking playboy.

“Oh actually I am feeling tired. What’s the sleeping arrangements?”

“Drake and Amber are taking his bed.”

“No we aren’t. Amber is taking my bed. I am staying with you two.” Amber began to feel awkward, mainly due to Drake giving up his bed for her- but also due to tweedle Dee and tweedle dum setting them up.

“What do you think about this Amber?”

“Erm... I’ll sleep on the sofa... with Max... it’ll be like good old days. You and Drake share his bed.”

“No thank you. I’d rather sleep in the lake.”

“See ya then.” Drake smirked, knowing matchmaker Leo wouldn’t succeed with his plan.

“Amber just take my bed. To shut them up. Please. I’ll bring your bag up for you.” Not wanting to argue, she just nodded. Walking up to the bed room, she smelt Drakes scent- immediately feeling intoxicated. Shortly after Drake arrived with her bag.

“Are you okay? We overheard your conversation on the phone. I’m not being nosey, I just want to know that you are okay?”

“I’m fine. Better than fine. I feel relieved and free.” She sighed. “I’m going to go back to New York once the social season has ended, get my belongings and move into Ramsford.”

“Erm, why did you split up with him? Liv blamed me. I don’t want you getting hurt because of me. It was just a kiss.” Just a kiss, he regrets it.

“I’ve wanted to split up with him for years, just never had the guts to do it. It was just a kiss?” The last sentence she questioned, as a rhetorical question- not really wanting to know the answer.

“You deserve so much better, I’m glad Maxwell had your back. It was just a kiss, I shouldn’t have allowed you to kiss me.”

“I know I do- I was just blind to see it before. That kiss meant something to me, even if it didn’t to you. I can’t stop thinking about you- maybe you was part of the reason for me splitting up with him. I now understand how much of an idiot I’ve been.” Shit, she wanted that kiss as much as I did.

“Do you mean that? You are not an idiot- don’t think like that.”

“I meant every word.” Closing the distance, Brett was already forgotten- she desperately wanted Drake in her arms. Drake cupped her cheeks, resting his forehead against hers. Feeling his hot whiskey breath linger against her, she felt as if her heart was skipping beats. Drake had decided to make the first move this time, placing his lips onto hers- the kiss was gentle and loving. Wrapping her arms around his bare skin- she was lost in his soft touch. Breaking the kiss, they held onto each other- fixating their eyes on each other’s.

“Just another kiss huh?” Amber asked in a sarcastic manner.

“Another fantastic kiss, from a beautiful girl.”

“Another fantastic kiss, from a handsome commoner.”

“This ‘handsome’ commoner, must leave the sleeping beauty to gain her beauty sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because, Leo’s suggestion would become a reality. I don’t think I could stop myself from touching you- hugging you, kissing you.”

“What’s so wrong about that?”

“Amber.... you’ve just split up with your boyfriend.”

“He doesn’t deserve that title. It’s fine Drake. I’ll just go to sleep. Goodnight.”

*****

The morning after, Liam and Olivia headed downstairs- she needed to make her way over to Lythikos before all her guests arrived. Leo was sat drowning black coffee to keep him awake- he could kill his little brother for keeping them awake.

“Where’s Walker? Amber?”

“They went for a walk before. Drake slept with us- the couch was already crowded enough. I swear I could hear you two up all night fucking each other in my subconscious.”

“It must have been your subconscious, because we only had sex once we had gone upstairs. Little Liam became too tired much to my disappointment and wouldn’t cooperate.” They all looked at each other- all wondering the same. Drake and Amber returned from their walk to a silent welcoming.

“Shouldn’t you be in Lythikos?” Drake questioned.

“Did you enjoy sleeping on the couch Drake?”

“It was very uncomfortable.”

“Hmm, you see Leo believes that myself and Liam was having sex but it wasn’t us. Do you have ghosts in this cabin or could you provide us with an answer for that?”

Amber and Drake looked at each other, that look provided the friends with the answer that they were all impatiently waiting for.

“He doesn’t deserve that title. It’s fine Drake. I’ll just go to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Amber, I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Go on...”

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

“I’d like that. I feel safe with you.” Drake smiled, knowing he wanted to hold her- call her his, he would have to compromise and resist temptation. Drake led her to the bed, sliding into it- she soon joined him. It wasn’t the first time for either of them- but the silence between them showed that they were both nervous sharing a bed. Both laying down facing each other, locking eyes with each other for a slight moment- both feeling content. Amber snuggled into his embrace- placing one hand on his bare chest. Her eyes gave him permission to wrap his arms around her holding her protectively as their skin touched.

“Thank you Drake, goodnight.”

“What for?”

“For being you.” Shaking his head he laughed, kissing her on the forehead he had hoped that she would fall asleep soon as his cock wouldn’t control itself. Believing that she looked sexy even in his shirt- he couldn’t quite believe that a girl like her was in his bed.

“Night.” Pulling him towards her, she decided to kiss him- he was her drug and she was intoxicated. Unlike the previous kisses, this kiss began gentle but soon turned demanding- their tongues entwined in a kiss. Breaking the kiss, Amber rolled on top him- both breathing fast their heartbeat increasing with every movement. Drake reached up, running his fingers through her loose curls. Pulling her down onto him, he crashed his lips back on to hers- natural instinct led his hands touching her back under the shirt.

“You are beautiful... Amber...” Rolling her to the side, he hovered over her as her head sunk into the pillow- hearing her moan made him want her more and more.

“Drake... I....”

“What?”

“I’m falling for you. When the ladies were talking about you at the Derby I felt jealous- I don’t know why? Ever since I met you, I wanted to kiss you. To feel you. To be in your arms. I know I was with Brett- but he isn’t like you. You’re amazing. I’m so lucky to have met you. I crave more of you every time I’m with you. I’ve always thought I was collateral damage because of him- that I’d never move on and love anyone.” Sighing, she wasn’t sure if he wanted this. Sure he had kissed her, but was it just heat of the moment. “What I’m saying is, I want you to touch me- if you don’t want that.. I’d rather know now so I don’t make a huge fool of myself.” Caressing her cheeks, he smiled at her softly.

“You are not collateral damage! He was the one with the issue- he is a jerk. I was jealous when Liam kissed you at the lawn party. Do you want to know something else? It’s pretty embarrassing.” Amber nodded, not knowing what he was going to say. “The first night we met... I was thinking about you whilst wanking.”

“What was you thinking about?” She asked seductively. Drake thought she would kill him for admitting that- laying next to her, facing her- he took a deep breath.

“I was thinking about how beautiful you are, picturing that gorgeous smile of yours. Imagining what you looked like naked even though you gave me a preview, imagining my hands cupping your breasts- kissing your whole body. Believing that it was your hands on my cock.”

“Like this?” Rubbing his bulge- he moaned as it became more erect. Smirking at him, she sat up and removed her shirt discarding it onto the floor. Guiding his hands towards her bra- he gulped.

“Is it what you imagined?” She had always felt low self esteem regarding her body due to Brett.

“No better. You are so beautiful. I’m falling for you too. You are too damn irresistible.”

“Don’t resist then. I want to feel loved. I want you Drake.” Without responding to her, he kissed her neck tentatively- removing her bra, kissing every inch of her breasts before sucking her nipples.

“Remove your trousers Walker.”

“Yes ma’am. Only if you remove those panties.” Standing up, she bit her lip as he did what she had commanded. Standing up- before they knew it they were both naked admiring each other’s bodies. Jumping into his arms, he caught her holding her tight- not breaking the kiss, he carried her over to the desk sitting her on the edge. His hand roamed up her thigh- before his thumb circled her clit in a tantalising rhythm, making her become instantly damp. “Drake...” she moaned, smirking he slipped two fingers inside her- beginning slow, his speed soon increased. Feeling already weak at her knees, she hadn’t felt this way in years- reminding herself to thank her cousins in the morning for bringing her here. Feeling her juices leak onto his fingers- he decided to replace his newly coated fingers with his tongue. “Holy shit. Drake! That feels.... so..... good.” After plunging his tongue in deep, he came back to her level- licking his lips. “You tasted so good baby.” He whispered in her ear. “Is little walker ready for a treat?”

“Damn right he is, but you don’t have to.”

“Oh I remember you have two hands right?” Winking at him, she didn’t give him the opportunity to respond. Slowly rubbing his hard cock, she was impressed with his package. Wrapping her fingers around his shaft- she rubbed up and down. Changing the rhythm every so often, he moaned her name, coming out of his trance- Amber removed herself off the desk. Kneeling on the floor, she decided to suck and lick his testicles before moving towards the tip of his cock, she used her tongue and deepthroated him, his cock was now all wet and slippery. Increasing her speed, she felt him pulsate inside her mouth- knowing she was pleasing him as he did her, she didn’t want anyone else in her life.

“That feels amazing. Amber...get on the bed. I can’t keep this in any longer.” Standing up, he carried her over to the bed- laying her down gently, he admired her.

“Do you want me to get a condom?”

“I’m on the pill.” Searching her eyes for reassurance- she guided him towards her entrance. Rubbing his manhood gently against it- he eventually entered her slowly. Holding his position, allowing her to time to get used to him, their eyes fixated on each other.

“Oh Drake.” Slowly thrusting in and out of her, he wanted to make her feel loved. Arching her back, he increased the speed- neither of them able to contain the pleasure and moans.

“Amber, you feel so good. Damn, you’re incredible. I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

“I don’t care, I’m about to cum.” Ambers body began to jerk, shudder in response to her climax- making Drake feel close himself. Feeling the rush of his sperm racing through him- he growled holding her as he released. As Amber felt the warmth of his seed, she softly smiled at him as he collapsed next to her. He turned around to her as they laid next to each other panting- both attempting to catch their breath. Pulling her on to his chest, he kissed her on the forehead.

“Amber..”

“Yes.” She looked up towards him as she fluttered her eyelashes.

“That was... wow. Incredible. I’m so glad Max and Bertrand brought you here.”

“I’m glad too.” Sharing another kiss they both feel asleep- content in each other’s arm.

“So you slept together then? I heard you two? That’s a relief, I thought I was going crazy!” Drake pulled Amber into his embrace, looking at her adorably. He couldn’t foresee what his future would look like- but this girl had given him hope.

“What you see in him Amber I will never understand. Has he got a big cock or something?”

“That is something that only I will know Duchess. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Liv, I don’t know what Liam sees in you. But hey, I never questioned it.”

“Touché Walker. Amber do you want to come to Lythikos with me? Leave these lot alone.” Amber looked at Maxwell, who nodded.

“I’ll explain to B. Don’t worry. We’ll see you up there. Liv take her to the boutique when you arrive.” Drake escorted her to the bedroom, he wanted to give her a goodbye kiss away from prying eyes.

“I guess I’ll see you at the ice queens duchy then.”

“Damn right you will.” Kissing her on the lips, he left it lingering- wanting to saviour every second.

“So erm... I’ve been thinking... once the social season is up. How would you feel about going on a date?”

“You want to date me? Let’s avoid fishing though.”

“I Lo- I like you a lot Amber. Deal, no fishing.” Feeling herself blush, she needed to meet Olivia- not that she wanted to after their night together.

“I like you too Drake Walker. See you soon. Don’t keep me waiting.”

******

Continue here

[theyearoftheking]

Book 2: ‘Salem’s Lot

Success is my only motherfuckin' option, failure’s not Mom, I love you, but this trail has got to go, I cannot grow old in Salem's lot So here I go is my shot Feet fail me not 'cause maybe the only opportunity that I got

-Eminem, Lose Yourself

The mere mention of ‘Salem’s Lot has had my brain playing this song on repeat for weeks. And after reading ‘Salem’s Lot, I’d like to point out to Eminem that it’s actually quite difficult to grow old in ‘Salem’s Lot. You’re more likely to be turned into a creepy vampire than grow old and die of natural causes in The Lot. But I feel like if I were to ever address this with one Marshall Mathers, he’d punch me in the face. So I guess I’ll just rest comfortably with my superior Stephen King knowledge. 

This was my first reading of ‘Salem’s Lot, and while I enjoyed Carrie; I feel this was the book that made the Stephen King “style” a thing fans are all familiar with. I’m not going to dive into the entire plot and every character, but the format of the book, and the relationships the characters form will be familiar to all King fans. Let me explain.

Part One: The Introduction 

The book is divided into three parts. In Part One: Marsten House, we learn about the lovely little town of Jerusalem’s Lot, and start feeling a creeping sense of dread every time the Marsten House is mentioned. We don’t know why we feel creepy dread quite yet, but the feeling is lurking in our stomach like a slimy gas station burrito. We also experience a meet cute between Ben Mears and Susan Norton. Ben is a writer, hanging out at the park, trying to forget all the negativity and bad juju he experienced the first time he lived in ‘Salem’s Lot. But now he’s back, living at Eva Miller’s boarding house, working on his next novel. Susan sees him in the park, and just so happens to be reading one of his books. She asks for an autograph, and he inscribes it, “For Susan Norton, the prettiest girl in the park...” The rest is history. Well, vampire, bloodshed history. But romantic history none the less. 

Later on, Ben Mears references The Haunting of Hill House, which was an inspiration for this novel. He tells Susan the subject of his newest novel is,          ”...it’s about the recurrent power of evil...” Art imitating life, ammiright, Steve??? 

Part one also gives us our first (of three!) Wisconsin references. Ben decides to hit up the local watering hole, Dell’s, where he runs into fellow boarding house resident, Weasel Craig. To hear Ben describe it, “...his breath alone could have made Milwaukee famous.” I mean... we do love and brew a lot of beer in this city. But you can imagine my disappointment when in the next paragraph, Weasel orders a pitcher of Budweiser. Gross, Weasel, You deserve to be taken out by those vampires. 

Part one continues to give us plenty of local color, and describes the residents of the town (spoiler: don’t get too attached to any of them). Part one ends with some creepy goings-on at the cemetery, and some children disappearing, and later re-appearing in slightly alarming form. Oh, and a lot of bodies at the morgue start disappearing. Never a good sign. 

Part Two: The Dread Explained, and the Start of Shit Going Sideways 

Part Two: The Emperor of Ice Cream is when the beat drops. But before all of that, we have our final two Wisconsin references. King twice mentions a Packers Patriots game everyone in town is anxious to watch. Ok. I have questions. So many questions. How did Steve decide on this particular football match-up? We’re not division rivals, we don’t even play in the same division. The Packers and Patriots play each other once in a blue moon. Wouldn’t the Bills or the Jets have been a more sensible selection? Maybe the Dolphins? Maybe they were good back in 1975? I don’t know. I do know I personally love Packers/Patriots games because I love seeing Tom Brady pout like a little bitch on the sidelines when our inconsistent defense shows up and decides to tackle him. Repeatedly. It’s a miracle Brady doesn’t trip over that lower lip more.

But I digress. Part two is where shit really starts to go wrong, and we understand the problems plaguing ‘Salem’s Lot are the result of a powerful vampire, Mr. Barlow and his keeper, Mr Straker, moving into Marsten House. That’s right... it’s a vampire book, kids. These two keep a low profile by buying a creepy old murder house, and running an antique store full of old junk in town. As you do. 

King holds true to a lot of the traditional vampire stereotypes: they only come out at night, they are burned by sunshine, they sleep in coffins or boxes, they need to be invited in, and they can be repelled by a crucifix or some holy water. No glittery, pretty vamps here. Sorry, Twilight fans. This probs isn’t the book for you.

Part two of the book is filled with creepy passages full of suspense. You know, those parts when you find yourself cringing and chanting, “No! No! Don’t crawl into the creepy old murder house during the day! I don’t care if you think the vampires are sleeping! This isn’t going to end well!” I know most people have those moments when watching movies... but this book (and King in general) usually brings out all the creepy, cringy feels for me.

So, Ben, Susan, and their ragtag band of friends begin to understand the vampire problem, and realize they need to address it before everyone in town either flees, or becomes part of Barlow’s vampire army. One member of their merry band of vampire killers is a little boy by the name of Mark Petrie. Mark lost two of his best friends in the initial round of vampire attacks, and feels guilt about this. If they weren’t on their way to his house to play with his models, maybe they wouldn’t have ended up as part of the un-dead. As a result of this guilt, Mark wants to help the grownups fight the vampires. He’s a bad ass kid. I hope my kid would behave the same way if we were fighting a vampire onslaught in Milwaukee. 

King best sums up their crew of vampire killers as, “An old teacher half-cracked with books, a writer obsessed with his childhood nightmares, a little boy who has taken a post-graduate course in vampire lore from the films and the modern prenny-dreadfuls...” 

Accurate af. 

Part Two ends with a passage I have to share... “The ordinary fellow isn’t half so leery of the superatural as the fiction writers like to make out. Most writers who deal in that particular subject, as a matter of fact, are more hardheaded about spirits and demons and boogies than your ordinary man in the street...” 

Part Three: The Real Action, All the Deaths & the Conclusion

Part Three: The Deserted Village wraps everything up. Almost all the residents of ‘Salem’s Lot are turned into vampires, including almost all of the vampire hunters with the exception of Ben and Mark. They ‘nope’ right on out of ‘Salem’s Lot and head for Mexico. Because they’ve seen some shit, and they need to live in perpetual sunshine where they never have to fight vampires again. Only, Ben can’t stop reading the Portland Press-Herald and realizes shit is getting real in Maine again, and they eventually need to go back. Poor Mark; it’s bad enough he lost his friends, had to stake both his parents, and killed the vampire’s keeper. But now he needs to go back? Ugh. 

Part three also gives us two coveted Dark Tower references (because, The Beam). 

“Ann Norton drew the .38 from the pockets of her wrapper like some creaky gunslinger from beyond time...” 

Oh snap. It’s coming. Da da chick, da da chum! 

I’ve also failed to mention much about Father Callahan. He was the Catholic priest of ‘Salem’s Lot who suffered a vampire bite despite his crucifix and holy water bath, and was last seen on a bus getting out of town, drinking cheap truck stop liquor. But we’ll see him again. ‘Tis ka. 

All and all, a very satisfying book, and I’m very glad I’ve finally gotten around to reading it.

In summation:

Total King Wisconsin Mentions: 4

Dark Tower References: 2

Book Grade: B+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books:

Salem’s Lot

Carrie

Next up is The Shining; which is perfect since Wisconsin is expecting its first major snowfall this weekend. Fun times. 

Until next time- long days and pleasant night, readers!

Rebecca

[krakenator]

CHAPTER 1 aka “Stranger Danger”

I’m rereading The Property of Hate by @modmad and overanalyzing it to hell and back because i can’t stop thinking about the story and getting madder and madder about the PUNS I keep finding. I’m scratching the itch and trying to find All The Details. Current plan is just to go chapter by chapter, feel free to chime in with stuff I miss! There’ll be a masterpost up soon linking everything in one spot

SPOILERS are sprinkled around extremely liberally. Masterpost

Okay, so just a million things right off the bat on page fucking one

‘The Hook’ is of course a term for the beginning of a story. Grabbing one’s attention and convincing them to go off on an adventure, so to speak

Speechboxes! Everybody’s got their own distinctive ‘way of speaking’ in this story. RGB’s are rectangular, but those straight edges are offset by these really loopy, meandering, and elegant speech tails. It’s just. Such immediate characterization.

Like, even the pose. The way RGB introduces himself by crouching on her drawers like an incredibly dapper gremlin. It creates a similar contrast to his speechbubbles- prim and proper existing simultaneously with fae and kinda ridiculous

So considering we’ve got a fairly detailed picture of roses up on Hero’s wall on the comics opening page I think we can assume this is some type of Important maybe. Just off the top of my head, isn’t the rose Englands national flower? IDK how relevant that is outside of RGB being incredibly, incredibly British

Oh god damnit I just scrolled down to go to the next page and fffFFFUCKING BLUE ROSES ON THE BUTTONS okay. Blue rose symbolism! They don’t exist naturally. You won’t just find one in the wild outdoors, so they represent the impossible, the mysterious and achievable.

Seeing blue roses right off the bat = important story theme probably. Impossible dreams are my first thought. RGB’s seemingly hopeless plan to save a world everyone else has given up to be doomed. Hero’s wish to go the fuck back home please after she’s had her fill of deadly adventure. RGB and Hero are setting out to achieve the impossible, defeat Her, and save the World of Make Believe

Last point for the first page; RGB’s drool. Except it’s not drool, we later learn it’s equivalent to blood, and he bleeds emotions he’s feeling. While recruiting Hero, RGB’s prominent feelings are, unsurprisingly in hindsight, a fair load of sadness but tinged with a dose of cheer. His last Hero failed, and every single one before that, but he’s still daring to have hope, the absolute madman. What he’s actually dripping most though is what looks like curiosity- it may be mixed with a bit of anger, which I wouldn’t begrudge the guy. Angry that he has to start over, again, angry that his world is dying, angry that he’d the only one doing anything about it

Ok but imagine you woke up to find a man crouched on your bedside table smiling this super-wide “TRUST ME!! :)” smile and blood dribbling out of it and welling up between the teeth. Like, I’m laughing, but I’d be screaming

OKAY BUT FINALLY WE’RE PAST THE FIRST PAGE. We get a clear look at Hero’s drawings taped to the wall, and check it- one kinda looks like the Idea they run into a few chapters ahead. The other picture might also be showing the House of Paint? I mean, there’s a sun there so that’s off, but the clouds and steps leading up to Madras’ door look right

And now we get Hero’s speechboxes! They’re circular in contrast to RGB’s boxes, and colored orange. The balloon tails don’t loop-de-loop all over the page like RGBs but they’re not ‘standard’ either- there’s always this little jag to them closer to the text

RGB’s speechbubbles are actually one of the plainest/most conventional in the entire story

Excluding the tails of course. Those never ever take the most direct or efficient path to his face. Yeah, it adds an impression of silliness, but also speaks to the fact that RGB takes creative and weird solutions out of situations. I’ll laugh about the entire Click arc later but like really. REALLY. RGB DID ALL OF THAT

I love how Hero’s first actual words to RGB send him immediately into ?????????????. He keeps up this huge grin for most of The Hook and this is the first time his “I’m your friendly neighborhood TV nothing to see here!!” demeanor gets shaken up

the ladder hurts Hero’s feet, so why does she sleep on the top bunk? The bottom bunk doesn’t have any bedding on it so it’s not like she’s regulated to the top by any kind of sibling dibs

Weird... weird detail to be showing us modmad..... 

“Are you a monster?” “the very worst one” that’s a lotta blue dripping off yer chin there, stop crying

The mom is a character for two (2) seconds and even she gets her own unique speechbox; blue, fuzzy and barely connected, which does a really great job of communicating that she’s basically still asleep without ever having to see her

‘happy boi about to bring newest kidnapping to the sky world’

That’s a Mary Poppins reference, that is. RGB exclaiming ‘spit spot!’ earlier also got be thinking of Poppins

Clouds look so fluffy out of airplane windows, I’m honestly jealous

Doors! Gotta wonder where they all lead. Gotta wonder if they’ll get more use past this outside Hero’s recovery Time

I’ve just spend like 15m trying to figure out what the symbols above the doors are and I THINK it’s alchemy? “libra sign upside down” is luckily an easily searchable term, and that symbol in particular is for gas becoming liquid

I think the door beyond that has the alchemical symbol for gold? I’m not having luck on the others, including the door they actually go through here/its sister door Hero opens after the Elastic Valley fiasco.

RGB are you pissed that you had to tell this kid your name yourself? Are you upset about manners?? She’s like 7 dude cmon have you met a 7 year old. Thinking about it, possibly not, all the confirmed Other Heroes are definitely older- they all come across to me as adults

well, actually, who even knows how old Assok is. They might be the exception

The little ‘peephole’ eye popping open when the right key is close is nice atmospheric detail, but it kinda makes me wonder if there’s a person like. Seeing out of that eye. Whether someone gets a little notification every time one of these doors is opened

It’s the World of Make Believe! Stupendous! Break-taking! Modmad is exceptional at colors and beautiful environments full of personality! Hero’s last chance to turn back is gone!

Hero only being awake for 20 minutes before becoming Instantly Tired = biggest actual mood, my god. Me too sweetie

Except I can’t blame trees. And a sort of magical jet-lag effect. Yo, are sleeping tree’s making you sleepy the same sorta thing where when one person yawns everyone yawns

I just really like how this tail loops around RGB’s physical actual legs. It makes it seem like speech is a tangible thing that interacts with the world and that you could, like, touch or something. all it’s missing is a shadow

God, fuck me. That’s the yellow brick road. God dammit. Son of a bitch.

RGB, pg 14: do not touch me, do not look at me, don’t speak to me, you have tentative permission to breathe

RGB from the Market onwards: carries her multiple times (admittedly, almost always exactly like you shouldn’t), picks her up, swings her around, hugs her when she’s scared of the dark, ‘I Have Longer Legs, Hop On’ piggybacks, protecting her by putting his own bod in harms way, general Manhandling of Child

I kid, I kid, it’s more complex than that. For one, RGB doesn’t want Hero getting hurt cause she’s Important and has Heroing she can’t do if she’s injured. Second, that whole “don’t get attached” thing gets thrown out the window on like day 2

“I’ve only known Hero for a day and a half but if anything happened to her I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself”

RGB is honestly... super bad at not attaching to people. honestly, actually terrible at it

Ooh! Those flowers! I didn’t realize those always happen when Hero’s sleeping. They also look like she’s drawn them herself! That’s honestly… lethally adorable

Fun fact technicolor dream shell snail changes colors every panel

RGB bleeds static? What emotion is that? I dig it, unconscious is an emotion and i feel it in my soul

w...white noise.... god DAMMIT

ey, the tree’s look different in the light of day- all those blurry fairy light ‘leaves’ are gone now. 

!! Hero glows the exact same way when she’s asleep! RGB, however, is not. Tree’s have leaves when they dream, huh

oh god tree’s have LEAVES when they DREAM

...we’ll come back to this thought when we get to the sick sun tree cause that thing is a whole other can of Lore worms

In a different direction, there must be some sort of difference between Tree Dreaming and People Dreaming, because dreaming trees do NOT trigger RGB’s weird stuntman nightmares

these particular trees are also see-through; i can’t remember if they’re all like this throughout the world? will have to pay attention and see

oh- OH. also just made the connection for why trees provide a saf(er) haven- bottled nightmares will very shortly be used to dispel fears. Dreams repel Fears! It’s best to sleep near tree’s because just you dreaming might not be enough to keep things at bay while your rest

And the chapter’s finished off with a new character and new speechbox to go with it! It’s the first to use a different font and text color to our main characters

Honestly though, what is UP with the Butterfly? It’s clearly keeping close tabs on them, and only speaks to Hero when RGB is unconscious or otherwise occupied. It clearly doesn’t wanna be seen by him, which is shady. It shows up like twice? And the other time RGB and Hero don’t even know it’s there and listening. Between that and the Eyes, like… does it have it’s own agenda and interests or is it an agent of Hate? Idk man maybe I’ll pick up on more Butterfly stuff on this readthrough

*notices that the plant it was resting on withers once it flies away* ... that’s no good. especially if that butterfly can do the same to trees

...... ah. it kinda can. Consider, please, Hate’s likely role in the demise of the Sun, and Her confirmed ability to smother them in [-----]

Butterfly’s parting words: “be wise”. Hero’s next and immediate action: doodle RGB’s face

And that’s the Hook! Join me next time when Hero has a fun play date with some new friends everything goes wrong almost instantly.

[captain-kingliamsqueen]

Stay safe...I’ll Try

Part 5 of “Always”

Prepare yourself...

Pairing: Liam x Riley   

Summary: Riley's finally managed to get some anger out…but how will madeleine retaliate?

(a little bit of bad language…look away kids)

Word Count: 1961

 Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @drakelover78 @queencatherynerhys @devineinterventions2 @jayjay879 @pens-girl-87 @kawairinrin @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayblue56 @gardeningourmet 

 It was the next morning when Riley woke to a knock at her door. She moaned and groaned as she climbed out of bed heading for the door.

“Drake?” Riley mumbled as she opened the door for him to come in. after closing the door she followed him to the small sofa in her room where they both sat. Riley shuffled into the corner of the sofa, pulling her legs up underneath her.

“what happened last night? I heard you shouting and screaming” he asked

“oh nothing, I was just letting out some of the bottled-up anger I have in me…the bitch was tempting me…you know who said to play it up…so I did…and it felt good…maybe I’ll get to yell at her again today?” Riley whispered the last part to herself as she smirked. “I recorded everything she said” Riley stated as she stood and looked for her phone, once she had it, she sat back down and played the recorded. The anger built up in Drake’s eyes as he listened to every word.

“shit!!”  He cursed as he slammed his fist into the coffee table. “Alright…um…we have 8 days left before Liam's “body” is released for the viewing…we have to get her to crack…” he sighed

“we will Drake, it didn’t take much for her to say those things to me last night, we just have to make sure we have proof of every conversion we have with her…every move she makes” Riley noted.

“of course,” he agreed as he stood from the sofa “I should get going…I have to call Leo, if we want to make it look legit…I have to call him and tell him Liam's dead” he sighed knowing how Leo is going to react when he finds out it’s all a ploy.

“I’m sorry drake” Riley whispered knowing that it was one of the worst jobs.

“someone has to do it” he sighed then bid her goodbye before headed for the door.

Once drake had gone, Riley started her morning the same way she normally would, she washed, brushed her teeth, had breakfast after all that was out of the way it was time to take her medication for her chest. With all five of the pills she had to take in her hand she placed them one by one into her, washing each down with a gulp of water. She winced as she swallowed the last gulp. She hadn’t told anyone how much pain she was really in, anytime anyone asked she gave the same reply with a smile “the painkillers are working a dream” but in actual fact…she felt like she couldn’t breathe…like she could have a heart attack at any moment…she tried her best to keep her mind off it…she needed her main focus to be Liam and making sure he was safe…his life was more import to her then her own, its funny how in the space of a year a person can go from being a total stranger to you risking your life for theirs. After taking her medication Riley got dressed then headed down to the dining room for breakfast. Riley walked into the dining room to see everyone already there…eating in silence.

“Breakfast started 15 minutes ago!” madeleine barked

“well done madeleine you can tell the time…I’m only here to get a cup of tea to take back up to my room, how you can all sit there…and even fathom eating…at a time like this is beyond me, I can’t even stomach it” she whispered loud enough for them to hear. She poured herself some tea then headed for the door.

“Riley,” Hana whispered “you have to eat something, Liam wouldn’t want you to-”

“Liam is dead! it doesn’t matter what he would have wanted…it didn’t matter when he was alive so why would it matter now!” Riley barked as she looked in the eyes of every person at the table. It tore her apart to have to bite back at Hana but…she was sure she would understand if she knew the circumstances. As soon as the words left Riley's mouth everyone hushed.

“Riley” Maxwell whispered sadly

“what Maxwell? It’s true…when did what he wanted ever matter?!” she snapped as she stormed out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind her she smiled and lifted her cup to her mouth taking a sip “Mmmm” she moaned from the warmth then headed back to her room.

Riley didn’t leave her room again until later that day, about five o’clock. She had asked Drake to walk with her whilst she “stretched her legs” the two walked down the corridors, heading for nowhere in particular.

“what happened when you called Leo?” she asked

“He asked me to have the jet pick him, he should be here later tonight”

“okay” she winced as she felt a pain in her chest…all day her chest had been killing her.

“What’s wrong?” Drake asked worried.

“nothing I’ll be fine” she whispered, he looked at her for a few seconds with doubt all over his face then he turned away as they carried on walking. As the two reached the front of the palace Riley gasped then pulled Drake behind on of the Pillars.

“he’s here again” she whispered

“who?”

“the guy who shot me!” she replied the two instantly hushed as they heard footsteps approaching

“Mr Byrd its lovely to see you again” madeleine she shook his hand smiling as one of the guards walked past her, once they were out of sight she quickly dropped his hand

“did you do it?” she whispered

“yes, whilst she was sleeping…she took them this morning” he replied

“good, now…once she’s out of the way there will be no one to stop me” she smirked before bidding him goodbye and they both went their separate ways.

“what was all that about?” Drake asked as they came out from behind the pillar

“I’m not sure” she whispered. The two carried on their walk

“have you spoken to him?” Riley asked as she removed her sweater suddenly feeling warm

“this morning, he called me from Bastian’s phone, he said he’s going to call you later, how are you warm? It’s like 5 degrees outside”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s my medication or something, I just feel really warm” she smiled just the thought of hearing his voice made her stomach flutter.

It was seven o’clock when her phone lit up with Bastian’s number. She was sitting in her bed, trying to warm herself up from her sudden case of the chills. She pressed answer then addressed him.

“hello?” she whispered

“Riley, hi” Liam smiled on the other end of the phone. “I can’t talk for long, I just wanted to hear your voice” he noted

“how are you?” she smiled

“I’m okay, a lot better the yesterday” he smiled

“okay for a dead guy” she smirked causing him to chuckle

“it’s not funny…this is serious”

“why are you laughing then?” she giggled

“because you always know how to make light of a dark situation, now how are you feeling? How is your chest?”

“painful…my medication hasn’t worked as well as it has been…” she sighed

“oh Love, I’m sorry, I wish I could make it better somehow” he whispered

“it’s okay, ill b-be fine”

“are you okay?” he asked worried

“yes, i-I'm fine, Liam?” she whispered his name

“yeah?”

“he was here again”

“who? The shooter”

“yeah…she asked him to do something else…t-to a female this time…I don’t know what she asked him to do though”

“shit” he whispered under his breath “whatever you do…just…be careful, I’ll have Bastian speak to the guards at the palace, I’m trying to keep you as safe as I can from here”

“I know” she sniffled “I’m scared…” she admitted bursting into tears “we already know she’s capable of murder…I’m scared of what she’s going to do next…I’m exhausted…I can’t sleep from worrying what’s going to happen”

“I know, me too…I’m scared too but remember…we’ll get through it together…”

“always” she whispered

“listen I have to go but I promise, this will all be over soon…just think…once it’s done…she will be jailed she’ll be gone…and we can finally be together”

“that’s what’s getting me through it all…knowing that after its all finished with…we can be together”

“I love you”

“I love you too” he whispered

“I have to go, I’ll call you soon…stay safe”

“I’ll try” she whispered. After bidding each other farewell they hung up.

By the time it hit ten that night Riley started to feel hungry, she had missed breakfast and dinner, she was so focused on running madeleine into the ground that she couldn’t think about eating. She headed down to the dining room where she seen one of the kitchen staff.

“duchess Riley, can I get you anything?” the woman asked sympathetically.

“please, if you don’t mind, maybe just some soup” she smiled faintly feeling dizzy, she placed her hand on the back of one of the chairs to steady herself

“are you okay, miss Riley?”

“Mhmmm yeah i-I'm fine” Riley assured her

“of course,” the woman smiled the headed into the kitchen. After about 20 minutes she returned with a tray in her hand containing a bowl of hot tomato soup, as the woman went to place the tray down Riley interrupted her.

“it’s okay I won’t be sitting, I’m going to take it back to my room, if that’s okay?” she asked

“of course, would you like me to have someone take it up for you?”

“no, it’s okay, I’ll just take it” she replied as she gently took the tray from the woman’s hands.

“thank you” she smiled then she wished the woman goodnight before headed back up to her room. as she reached the top of the stairs she bumped into something…or someone.

“oh, I’m sorry” she apologised then looked up and her face dropped.

“Duchess Riley you should watch where you are going!” madeleine barked

“I already apologised it was an accident…get over yourself” Riley replied stiffly

“how is your investigation going?”

“what investigation?”

“you said you were going to find out who took Liam from you” she smirked

“I have a few suspects”

“would you like me to narrow it down for you?”

“what?”

Madeleine moved closer to Riley, leaning into her ear

“it was me” she chuckled

“w-why are you telling me this?” riley asked confused

“because Riley…you aren’t going to remember it tomorrow anyway”

“why not?”

“because any minute know you’re going to start feeling a little dizzy…” madeleine stepped closer causing Riley to take a step back. She was right…Riley had been feeling a little dizzy

“…then your visions going to start going a little…blurry” she smirked taking another step, Riley doing the same.

“and then finally your words are going to start…slurring” she stepped forwards Riley looked back as she reached the top step.

“madeleine…what have you done?” Riley asked scared as these were all symptoms she had been having the last few hours.

“oh, you haven’t seen anything yet…goodbye riley” Madeleine lifted her hand pushing on Riley's shoulder. Riley tried to balance herself, when her footing lost its place, when the bowl from the tray tipped and the contents hit her arm and hand she wailed when she felt the soup burning her skin, she reached her hand out in attempt to grab the banister but the liquid had made it to slippery, as her hand slipped she fell backwards, tumbling down the stairs, cracking her head on the corner of the last step she hit before meeting the ground at the bottom. Madeleine smirked as she watched her fall, landing at the bottom with a thud, she lay there…no movement…nothing.

[traces-to-nowhere]

A Few Notes from my short trip to Berlin/the Jan 19 DM show:

I wish I had spent a few more days in the city, maybe a full week. If I go back, I would like to have it be a part of a much longer trip so I could see a number of different cities and towns. And also I’d like to go back when I’m a little more confident with my German. 

My AirBnB host kind of had a younger Jeremy Irons look going on. A++

I love how easy it is to get around. The buses and trains are really easy to navigate and it makes me miss living in a city. :-/

I cried in a museum. That’s a thing I do when I travel. I get so tired that my ability to control my emotions is just gone, so when I see a fucking gorgeous Caravaggio/Rembrandt/whatever painting hanging in front of me when I’m sleep deprived and not really eating because I’m super anxious, naturally, I cry. 

EDIT! MAJOR OMISSION from earlier and I feel like such a dick. I have to thank @worldsinmyeyes for their help pre-gig. They gave me some really awesome advice, so dear one, if we ever happen to meet in person, I owe you coffee or something. I would have been so fucked without your great and sage wisdom. <3

Shout out to the very nice people who kept me company in the queue for the DM gig and also the two ladies I stood with during the actual show.

From talking with one of the women next to me on the barrier, it sounds like superfan bullshit transcends fandom. Across the board, some hardcore fans are just... terrible people. She described some of the entitled, self-absorbed crap fans pull, and it was stuff I’m sadly all too familiar with. She said the crowd that night was way more pushy than usual, but I had expected people to be like that (I guess because that’s what I’m used to at concerts in the US).

Now that I’ve done the whole early entry queue thing, I don’t know that I need to do it again. Was it worth it? Absolutely. But I think I’m good now and I don’t need to do it that same way ever again. And I’m not even sure there will be an again, after the Spirit Tour. If there is, and there isn’t the stupid online queuing for tickets in the US again, I’d rather just pay whatever for a better seat, because after Friday, NO MORE UPPER TIER BULLSHIT SEATS FOR THIS BITCH. But like, if Martin or Dave did solo shows or shows with another band in the US, fuck yes I would try to go, especially if they were in New York. It’s a no brainer.

BUT HEY I was on the barrier for a Depeche Mode show in GERMANY? I really wanted the experience of seeing them with people who were excited to be there, and I was not disappointed. The audience at the DC show was so lackluster and this more than made up for it. I was in the corner between the main stage and the catwalk and, like I said before, had two really cool ladies on either side of me. They told me about other shows, one of them had been to the two in NYC so we talked about New York for a while, we made bad Depeche Mode puns. It was great, and I hope they knew how much I appreciated their company.

In hindsight, I wish I had spent less time taking photos, but I am glad I got a few good ones. I realized at one point I was watching too much of the show through my phone camera and not... actually watching it. Shame on me. Like, I want to have photos to look back at months or years later, but I also wanted the pure experience of just enjoying it first hand. It’s a complicated thing.

The show itself, though?

Peter & Christian: Peter is so unassuming and is such an amazing supportive part of the band, it's great to hear him sing with Martin. And Christian blows my mind, I don't think I've ever personally seen a drummer play as relentlessly as he does. He is a powerful driving force and I am so glad he's part of the band.

Fletch: THAT BOY LIVES UP TO THE HYPE. People be talking about Fletch’s Dad Moves and I’m like, yeah sure. But then he does them in front of me and I’m like ONE THOUSAND HEART EYES EMOJIS. Someone somewhere please make a gif set of Andy’s awkward arm waving and swaying so I can look at it whenever I’m sad. 

Martin: The whole experience felt like a fever dream. And in the past few days I’ve thought, “Did Martin really do Sister of Night AND Judas??” If he was actually trying to murder me, Sister of Night would have been the first wound and Judas would have finished me off. Like yeah, I’m always like “Dave this, Dave that,” but little Martin L. Gore can kill with a single blow if that blow is him singing, “So open yourself for me/Risk your health for me,” IN. FRONT. OF. MY. FACE. Anyway, Martin is lovely. And it's so, so good when Martin really gets to show off as a guitarist. His solo near the end of "Personal Jesus" was an excellent example of how good of a musician he actually is.

Dave: How... is Dave Gahan... like that? How can an adult human person have that much insane energy? It’s like he has jet fuel for blood and performs like every show actually means something. It was definitely interesting to see two very different shows on this tour, once from an upper tier seat and then this, from basically the front row. From the high seats, you miss so much unless it’s projected on the video screen behind the band. But you get a great sense of the size of the band, how they really are bigger than the sum of the five men themselves. And I have a (maybe bad) habit of elevating the bands and artists I love, I put them on pedestals, and from seats in the upper deck that pedestal is as high as ever. But when you watch Depeche Mode from the floor, front or second row, that pedestal becomes quite a bit shorter. They are, in fact, people and they are working their asses off. When you’re that close, you can see when Dave pauses between songs or verses how fucking tired he is. But also when you’re that close, you get to see him playing with and teasing the audience, expressions and gestures you might have missed if you were sitting far away. You catch things that make his performance all the more special and thrilling. And it is thrilling, to watch someone that good (who knows they’re that good) working hard to deliver a performance that will always exceed the audience’s expectations. Dave can go from powerful and commanding, to ugly and gross, to manic and dangerous, to playful and charming, to depraved and flirtatious, sometimes all within one song. And in my book, that versatility is the mark of a truly great performer. 

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Shock Control” - Oneshot

“Shock Control” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Bruce Banner  x Reader

Word Count: 2,215

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: None that I can tell? Please let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: Reader has the power to control electricity, but is still learning to control it. Bruce helps most of the time. But when he goes out on a mission, things don’t go so smoothly back at the compound.

Author’s Note: So I am still on my hiatus, but I wrote this a week ago and decided to post it now. This will be my last fic for a couple of weeks probably. This is just a random idea I had awhile ago. It wasn’t meant to be this long, but I’m a wordy bitch. Lol. Hope you enjoy! Also, there needs to be more Bruce fics. Just sayin’

Also, @the-witching-hours12-3 is honestly one of the best online friends I’ve ever made. She is so supportive and caring and so amazing in every way. Her writing is equally amazing. Please go show her some much deserved love.

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

I’m so sorry to make you guys wait, but life isn’t the kindest thing and i can only do so much. 

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

It’s only been a couple of months since you started living at the compound with the other Avengers, but you’ve known Tony and Bruce for a while. There was an electrical fire in the middle of a forest in Michigan, you were the center of it. You could manipulate electrical energy thanks to Hydra, but you didn’t know how to control it. The only one who was able to help you get things under control was Bruce. Your electricity was like his “other guy”; you lost control of it during emotional outbursts. But thanks to Bruce, now you were able call on it when you wanted, not just through emotions.

That being said, you still had trouble with control some days; Today was one of those days.

Bruce, Tony, Wanda, Natasha, and Vision were in Russia tracking down another Hydra base. The base had been known for its chemical work, hence the science bros were both on the mission. You thought you were going to be okay; Just go about your daily schedule and relax. But after a week, you started to feel yourself faltering. You hadn’t broken down or anything, but that fear still lingered.

You knew you weren’t doing too great. You were so worried about something triggering you, causing you to lose control again, and Bruce wouldn’t be there to help. You were still working with him on being able to calm down by yourself.

You also had been thinking a lot about Bruce, outside of him helping you. You couldn’t help but realize that you had feelings for him. You couldn’t tell him though; It’d make things awkward. Bruce is the closest person you have, you couldn’t risk losing that because of feelings.

You were leaning against the edge of the hangar with Sam, looking at the view outside, lost in your own thoughts. It wasn’t until Sam poked your arm that you realized how lost you were.

“You doing alright, Sparky?” You had actually taken to liking this nickname that a lot of the team used for you. You smiled at him  before shrugging, your smile slowly falling.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You looked to Sam who was giving you a face that said he knew you were lying.

“Come on, (Y/N). What’s going on?” You felt your lungs getting tighter.

Just focus. Do not freak out right now.

“I’m just... I’m not all here right now.”

“What do you mean?” He really didn’t know. You felt your heart rate going up, your thoughts speeding. You put a hand to your chest and backed into the hangar.

“No no no no no. Not now. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” Muttering to yourself in an attempt to keep yourself from completely spazzing. Sam started to walk towards you.

“(Y/N)! It’s okay. Just--”

“Don’t come any closer! Please. I don’t wanna hurt you!” You backed into a corner and slid down the wall, bringing your knees to your chest, laying your head on top of them, and gently rocking yourself.

Sam pulled out his phone and called for help. Within a minute, Clint, Steve, and Bucky were in the hangar standing near him, everyone with some sort of gear on. Steve started to talk, but it just worked your up more.

God damn it, (Y/N/N)! You can’t do this right now. No one can help you! You need to fucking stop this shit now!

“(Y/N). You are safe. Bruce isn’t here right now, but you can do this yourself.” Steve tried his best to take over the situation. But you could feel the power building up more and more inside of your chest. It was so much that it caused your to fall  on your side, clutching your chest. Some small sparks were already popping out of your hands. Looking at the boys, you scream to them.

“Get out of the hangar!” It only takes them a second to understand what you yelled and they all ran outside the hangar door.

The power was too much. You let out an agonizing scream as electricity shot out from your eyes and hands. The energy went through and destroyed three jets and the wall that was behind you. The wall had various forms of equipment on it that had to be toast by now; Tony was gonna kill you for this. Just thinking about that made your attack more painful.

Steve and Clint peeked into the hangar to see what was happening. They saw that half of the hangar was undamaged and made their way there, signaling for the other two to come over. Steve tried to talk to you again and get you to ground yourself.

“(Y/N)! Come back! You gotta--” Steve couldn’t get any more out because your screams started again.

When you had control and called on your powers, it didn’t hurt. It just felt like a gentle buzz through your body. But when you had freakouts like this one, it felt like getting hit by thousands of lightning bolts while in a swimming pool with metal wires instead of bones. You couldn’t handle it anymore. Without Bruce to help, you needed to be taken out. You looked at Clint, he had been in this position twice before.

“HELP ME! PLEASE!” You were in tears. Before anyone could say anything, Clint grabbed an arrow and shot it into your thigh.

Clint had brought special arrows that had a sedative in them. You felt it hit your leg, but it wasn’t enough. A whip of electricity came out and slapped the ground in between Clint and Steve, causing them to roll out of the way. When Clint recovered, he was knelt down and ready to fire.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” He shot another one that had twice the dosage. As soon as it hit you, you blacked out and all of the electric chaos silenced.

~~~~~~~~

The rest of the team came home a couple days later. Everyone was in the common area talking, but Bruce was wandering around, looking for you. He came into the room and broke whatever conversation everyone was having.

“Hey. Anyone see (Y/N)? She’s not in any of her usual spots.” Everyone looked at each other with worry and a bit of fear. “What? What happened?”

“She’s downstairs… But she has food and water and--” Steve said somewhat quietly.

There was a section of the compound that was added underground that had a glass cage of sorts that was unbreakable, according to Tony. The team made it as a precaution if Bruce’s other side ever got out of hand. The team decided to put you there because no one, other than Bruce, knew how to really help you yet.

“Why the hell is she down there alone? Why did no one tell me? You all know how close I am to her, and I can help her.” Bruce was honestly worried now. He could imagine why you were there, he just wanted to know what actually happened. No one wanted to answer. Finally Clint spoke up.

“She lost control. More than any of us had seen before. So much so that half of the hangar is fried and we had to put her down. With three times the normal dosage…” He felt awful and he knew Bruce would be upset, but he would forgive him in time.

“How long has she been alone down there?” Again, everyone hesitated. Clint spoke up, considering he was one of the ones who had to help you in there.

“Two and a half days…”

Natasha tried to talk to Bruce but he just put his hand up and made his way to the elevator, attempting to keep himself from yelling at his friends. He knew this would blow over in a few days, but right now he only had one thing on his mind: You.

~~~~~~~~

You were sitting in bed, knees up to your chest, trying to sit still. Most of the pain was finally gone, but there were still twinges every so often. Even though you were making progress, you couldn’t help the self hatred.

Way to go, dipshit. You ruined the hangar and now have the team too freaked out to let you out of this cage. Why couldn’t you keep yourself in check? You almost hit your friends. Oh yeah- You were thinking about your stupid crush on Bruce. Why are you so--

A knock against the wall of your dome made you break your train of thought. You don’t look up. Don’t get your hopes up, (Y/N). It’s probably just Clint or Steve or Sam… Just get back in control. It’s not Bruce. It’s not Bruce. It’s not--

“Oh, sweetheart… What happened?” Your eyes shot up as soon as you heard his familiar voice. He continued to speak after taking a moment to see the damage you had done to the room and to yourself. “I’m coming in there, but I need you to breathe. Alright? Focus on your hands and getting the energy back inside. I know you can do that.”

You just nodded and focused on what Bruce said. Your breathing slowly settled  back to normal and the last of the sparks disappeared . Your eyes were shut to help you draw the electricity back inside. Bruce was squatted down a few feet away from you when you open your eyes.

His heart broke when he saw you, the girl he really cared about, in a ball on an uncomfortable cot, too scared to move. He had seen you lose control before and he always helped you out, but he has never seen you get this bad. You seemed so broken and not yourself. Even your voice was broken.

“I lost control and they thought it'd be best to lock me away until I calmed and powered down again. I'm not sure you want to be here.” Your voice was quieter than normal.

Bruce just took a few steps closer until he was at the edge of the bed. He touched your hand but you recoiled, afraid of hurting him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him; too scared that you were going to get lost in those eyes that you’ve fallen in love with and end up spazzing out again. But Bruce took one of your hands in his while gently lifting your chin so he could see your face. 

There were small burn marks scattered around your body from where you accidentally touched yourself while still charged up. You had been crying for a while; your eyes were still red. You hadn’t slept; it was hard to sit upright, and you had dark circles under your eyes.

“(Y/N). You are not going to hurt me. You are in control of yourself. It’s just like how we practiced before. I can understand the others being hesitant towards you. But unlike them, I’m not scared of you. I like being around you. I trust you, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but cry. This time they were tears of relief and happiness. You were lucky to have Bruce in your life. As soon as one tear fell, Bruce sat on the bed and pulled you close. You gladly crawled against him. As soon as your hand touched his chest, a small shock hit the both of you.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know why that happened!” You started to move away from Bruce, but he just lightly laughed and kept his arm around you, gently guiding you back to his lap and kissing your head.

You both sat like that for a while; his arms wrapped around you in a protective and comforting hold, your head on his shoulder, finally feeling back to normal. Bruce could feel your breathing regulate. He decided to take a chance and kiss your forehead. It was a shock at first, but you couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.

While the silence was comfortable, Bruce couldn’t help but ask about what has been going on these past few days. You filled him in on your side of the story.

“I will talk to Tony and apologize and help pay for the repairs or help him fix whatever I can. I feel awful about all of this.” Bruce just sits there and nods for a moment. His next question kind of throws you off.

“When was the last time you slept?” You had to pause and think. Before you could answer, Bruce spoke gently, “Well, the fact that you have to think about it answers my question.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. “C’mon. Let’s get you a shower and some comfy clothes.”

You took his hand and stood up, the two of you standing there for a few seconds, your hand in his.

“(Y/N)? Can try something?” You nod, hoping it was what your mind was wandering to. Bruce put one hand on your waist and leaned down to kiss you. It was everything you wanted and more. You kissed back, causing Bruce to smile into the kiss.

There was a spark flowing between the two of you. This was one that neither one of you could control. But you were pretty sure you didn’t want to control this one. It was too good of a feeling to stop.

Tags - @goodnightwife @the-witching-hours12-3 @theeactress @sebby-staan @feelmyroarrrr @tomorraw @marvelous-imagining ( @kitty-hulk - I know you didn’t ask to be on my tag list, but I thought you would enjoy this. Let me know if you want to be continued to be tagged or not)

[mephistophelianmusingsxo]

Colours

Death comes in colours; red, white and black. White being the sudden redemption you yearn for before all goes black; black being the eternal damnation and agony you feel for not making peace with the world while you were still in it and red; red is the anger. The anger at having to leave the world before you expected; before you were able to say the goodbyes, the farewells and promises that you would watch over your grieving family, never to leave them. Clinging on to a faith, a figment of hope that there is something after death and it’s not just that black eternal darkness everyone runs from, but can never escape. And if you’re lucky, you experience all; red, white and black, a murky brown. Not quite sure what anchors and unsettles you the greatest. It is a fact. You are going to die. However, uncheerful this may be, people find themselves hindered by the fear, the protestations when Death finally comes. When Death leans over you, you must be kind. It is fair. It gives you no favours so please do not ask for kindness, for forgiveness because it can offer you neither of those. You must find it within yourself to offer those to it. Then, once you do it blankets you with a dusting of white, silent wishes that you will find peace before it takes you. I feared for none, I prayed for none and I wished death to take me. Whispering it appealed to me, I had seen the colours. The changing of the day into night; it was not violent, it was not blustering, it was an ending; the final result. It arrived too early; I wasn’t quite ready to slip away yet. I would not be rushed nor pressured. In a single hour, I had passed a multitude of stages; denial, anguish and forgiveness. The thing I said I did not need. But I made it a point anyway. Death would suit me. Death came for me arms crossed, and tears frozen. Solemn in its standing it was the darkness before the dawn. Only twenty-nine years old and already my time was up. It was a beautiful thing in a way Death would finally become the saviour needed. Crashing into the fading sense of belonging in this world, I was struck with the same wooden club just previous, specifically designed for breaking bones. Gashes were made and bones were turned to fragments of a jigsaw puzzle, drawing a curdling scream from the confines of my chest. “Focus on me Jet! What are my thoughts? Tell me!” I didn’t know, I had no fucking clue. An arm hung out of its sockets and my ankle, I had no doubt was so unrecognisable I definitely wouldn’t be walking out of here, or at all. No more soaring for this metallic Kite. Passing of minutes echoed in my ears, there was no clock but I was sure I could hear a ticking. As each second passed my agony only heightened, coughing up the blood soaking my lungs, I croaked. I can’t, the pain. I- it’s too much; I had nothing left to give. I wanted to give up, to stop fighting and to allow Death to take my hand. My body was contorted in all ways imaginable, my muscles flexed and tore beneath my skin, my tendons rippled and snapped. I wanted to die. Thirty-six; thirty-four; thirty-two; Come on Jethro, die faster. This wasn’t the first time I’d been strapped to The Rack, its buckles already had my dried blood on and now my blood was repainting the ancient relics. I promised myself after that time, when I was sixteen I’d never visit here again. What happened that day because of me would never be permitted to happen again. Nobody else would be hurt because of me. I lay vertically drifting in and out of consciousness but for those times I saw clarity, he sat watching me. His white hair a beacon of the redemption I didn’t want, his musky leather jacket worn with years of hard excursions, it fucking reeked of memories and long long nights. “Oh stop your bitching Jethro. Focus on me for fucks sake.” I squirmed, wishing he’d just leave me alone to die. But that would be too much to ask. The lever cranked tightening leather bounds around my wrists and ankles, pain shot through every vein in my body stretching. Why couldn’t I pass out? Free myself from the suffering. The only way to stop this was to do what he said, but I couldn’t. I was riddled with misery; I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything but I had to try. Stab in the dark Jet. Like many times before. “Y-ou, you, think I’m an embarrassment, I- I’m a disappointment-” Anger drenched his voice, vibrating the walls and flooring until yet more of my joints popped and crack. “You. Are. My. Fucking. Son. You do not embarrass me, except you have, burying your fucking cock so deep in that Weaver whore. When will you learn, Jethro? They are disposable, we are not. But don’t mistake my blatant leniency for kindness. I will not hesitate to kill you. You think it’s only you to fall for a Weaver, only you to fuck one, must I say without protection; so willingly. Fuck. You’ve always been a pussy. You disgust me.” Nila…Nila. Nila was the life I needed, so vibrant, so full of love; she was the oxygen I needed to breathe, needed to survive, without her I would be nothing again. Sighing, I craned my neck to get a glimpse of the stars through the broken panel in the roof; the tips of my salt and pepper hair glistening in the moonlight shining through. Sweat that drenched my brow from the unthinkable affliction my body was relentlessly trialled through, glistening in the light from the moon, a twinkle of hope. It hadn’t left me yet. With Nila in my heart, I was safe; she wrapped me in a cocoon of security. Her forgiveness alone would mean I would die a peaceful man. The debts, the inheritance, my father, they didn’t matter.

I didn’t talk, nor move. I remained still, unmoving. I was weak. I was tired, so tired I wanted to sleep. If I slept, Death would come. It would place its hands either side of my sagging shoulders and lift me above the world where all I endured was splitting distress. No running, no fighting, it was all at my mercy. Patting my cheek, his gaze held mine. His emotions swirled in to mine and for the first time since he’d started this, I felt what he felt. He wasn’t terrified of the prospect of ending me, he was satisfied. At last he’d be free from the failure he had to raise. However, he didn’t enjoy it. He didn’t enjoy hurting his firstborn, he didn’t enjoy subjecting me to relenting hours of torture but he had to. Motherfucker. I hated him. I would make him pay. A sudden burst of life surged through my veins; I would feed off the hate, drink the vengeance and bask in the odium of reprisal. I shifted in the buckles, writhing as my mismatched bones jerked at the very movement giving way to another cry that whistled through the air; god how I wanted this over. I wanted Nila. I wanted to bury my head in her lap and forget about this, I wanted her touch to soothe every aching bone, every singing muscle and tendon. I didn’t care that my body was mangled and distorted in ways it should never be, I just wanted her. The side of the club delivered another remorseless blow to my gut, wrenching my body forward to bow against the restraints. “You know I love you Jethro. Just do as I ask and all this will be over.” Love? He wouldn’t know love if it hit him in the fucking face, he was a bastard, completely soulless. Choking on a laugh as blood filled my mouth, I spat. No. He doesn’t get to fucking ‘love me’. He doesn’t get to care. To rapture in adoration for his Son. My emotional rage penetrated, piercing the atmosphere striking Cut with an air of surprise. “Fuck you! You’re a bastard. I know you’d be satisfied if I fucking died, you wouldn’t have to raise your failure anymore. Fuck you.” I was right; he didn’t get to feel what he did. He didn’t deserve to. After all the wrong he’d done, that somehow he thought it justified enough to 'love’ his children. Cut stood, opening his mouth but no sound came out. Instead he smiled. A tsunami of wonderful glory eclipsed all I felt, he was proud. I had done what he wanted, what he asked and he couldn’t deny his overwhelming adoration at again “fixing” his son. That was his plan, it was never about me fucking Nila nor was it about the possibility that I would allow myself to fall in love with my toy, it was all about him creating the perfect monster, creating an heir that shrouded an air of mystery wherever he went. Yes, I would freeze and scorch the love I once felt, and once it becomes hard to distinguish the warm-skinned sensation - fire from the frost, my life shall have no future, just a past sealed away. There will become a vastness where only night will prevail and any light that rears its head will be snuffed out, because monsters do not get happy endings, they do not deserve the love of a woman, or in fact love in any form, for you see; monsters can never be a thing of beauty, no. Invisibility suits us best. It’s the first day in November, and today someone will die. As the sharp harsh wind howled against the barn doors, it gave reprieve to the sweltering fever ripping through my body. Gaining a slither of lucidity through the fog in my mind, everyone leaves something, someone it is a must when we die. I have thought of nothing more than the things I have not said, the things I now regret keeping to myself. It isn’t that I want to quit life, but indeed a need, and in doing so I will pretend that quitting laughter, loving, smiles and the soft beauty of falling ebony locks does not rip my heart from my chest and deposit it at my feet. Carve my name not on a tombstone but upon your heart, a legacy never lives etched on cold stone but in the minds of others. But what is a death if a man has no one to mourn him? It is the loneliest thing one can ever do, it doesn’t matter what has been done; good or bad. We all die the same. Utterly lost and alone, staring in to the black abyss and the black abyss stares back at you. Hope is above and never deep, it is what will visit you in the dreams when you sleep, so listen to me when I say, my love will be the compass through. Fear is old, poisonous, treacherous and it rises above all wrongs, but let one violation right all sins. Let my death be the righteous feat. Kes… Sometime at the eve of twelve, I promised it all to you; The Debts, the Inheritance, Hawksridge. Do not detest this like I have, do not wear it upon your shoulders like a burden. Grow with it, rise and mature. Become the man I can never, grieve in silent sorrow but never lose sight of the ending. Finish what I started, Kestrel. And if you feel you cannot because loyalty keeps you bound, do it for her. Let him kill me but not her, set her free. It is all I ask, for I know you’re far too honourable and maintained in fidelity. Honour me one last time. This is not goodbye, never a goodbye because saying so makes it forgettable. I am just fading, the corners of my consciousness blur further. A desperate murky line between living and once existing, if only I could reach out an arm, I would be touching it; it would engulf me and drown me like lapping sea waves. It is nothing like I imagined, had I been so foolish to think death would come for me peacefully? I am stuck, bound and weightless in a blackening void that only caterwauls my own misgiving penitence but alas, it is too late now to deny the kindness of offering. It was time, I had to step from hanging on the brink to accepting and embracing the perpetual slumber of lifeless torture. Stomping back in to view Cut roared; I couldn’t deny even though I hated him, I was glad he felt some kind of remorse. His gaze was frantic and his heartbeat sprinted across the dusty barn floor, a stark comparison to my own. Each rattling of a breath my heart slowed; each rise and fall of my chest my heart fought to pump the blood around my system. Good. Fucking good. Feel guilty you bastard. Summoned by some deep-rooted family bond, his fist slammed in to my chest, kick-starting a rhythm of normalcy to my heart. How long did it take for someone to die like this, minutes, hours, days? I did not care; I was in ecstasy and equally agony; possessed so by a coldness that I am in exile from myself and memories of her flood like tears like the ice through my veins.