#rambles from the morgue

[mortuarywriting]

Something something when u sass johnny

[mortuarywriting]

I mean. Damn I'm always a slut for worldbuilding ">>

And only if y'all wanna!! @pfhwrittes @sentientcave @stuffireadandenjoy @secretsynthetic @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @charliemwrites

WHICH FANFIC TROPE ARE YOU?

[mortuarywriting]

Falling into Place

Ao3 Link - [First] - [Next Chapter ->]

All things considered this isn't what you were expecting to wake up to when you went to bed. One minute you're on your phone, trying to pass out, and the next? You're here. You've had some interesting greetings in your life, but dropping about six feet and having twelve guns leveled at your face? That takes the cake

Warnings:

Reader Insert, Plus-Size Reader, The Author Regrets Everything, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Isekai, canon divergence Look we're gonna dig into the implications of omegasverse changing bits and pieces of history as well as addressing whatever the FUCK is happening as CoD's history. Idk man Godzilla is canon and nobody bats an eye at that fact and you think I'm gonna be normal about that? No

You could be having a worse day, you think, as you stare at the interrogation table you're cuffed to. They could've shot you the second you fell the six feet from the sky into a random army base. That's a very real thing that could've happened.

But no, you just had a dozen guns pointed at you in one moment and a slew of questions you didn't have satisfying answers for.

No, you had no idea how you got there. You'd been in bed tooling around on your phone and then you were falling.

They asked who you worked for, and were not impressed by your mundane answer. You didn't work for some pmc or intelligence organization. You asked them to their faces if they thought you could pass a PT test if you tried. Not that they answered or appreciated your point, mind.

It was only after you gave them whatever identifying information you had that things got… spicy.

"I would love to tell you what this designation of yours is if you tell me what you mean. Is it like a classification of civilian versus enlisted? Is it physical? Is it your horoscope? I don't know what I don't know," you explain again for the Nth time. You didn't wanna play twenty questions but here you fuckin were, captive audience and all.

The man asking you questions had lost his charming good cop look. He was getting more and more annoyed on this one, "your designation," a demand, not a question and sure as shit not an answer.

"Again, would love to tell you! I don't know what you mean! Feels like some kinda Star Wars thing," you grumble the last bit to yourself but the man cocks his head.

His eyes narrow, "what are… Star Wars, you said?"

You blink owlishly, "beg pardon?"

"Star War. Clarify."

It's your turn for your brow to furrow, and furrow it does, "Star Wars? As in the multi-billion dollar franchise created by George Lucas and eventually sold to Disney," your tone is questioning, just shy of asking if the guy lived under a rock but his expression didn't let up and the last thing you needed was bad cop, so you continued, "the story of what happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away? The political space series of movies versus Star Trek's more scientific and discovery based longstanding TV show? Nine major movies and the Clone Wars before Disney sunk their talons in. Like yeah we got more shows and movies that expanded the universe but they also cut out decades of book contributions in their acquisition and that kinda sucked. But yeah, that Star Wars?"

"Nine movies," his tone is disbelieving, and now it's your turn for your eyebrows to raise, "can you name them?"

You nod, "well yeah. Do you want them in episode order or release?"

His brows furrow, "did they not release in order?"

"In a sense? Three trilogies, 4-5-6 back in the late 70s early 80s, then 1-2-3 in the late 90s early 00s, and 7-8-9 through the teens. So order, yes, just… not a cohesive one."

"Release, then," he leaned back and crossed his arms, a position you'd love to mimic if you weren't cuffed to the table for… an indeterminate period of time now, actually.

"A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi-"

"Woah now, empire? What's a jeddy?"

You give him a blank look, trying very hard to mask your disbelief as you look between him and the mirror behind him. You look at your reflection, take a deep breath, and- "sir would it be easier for you to maybe check the internet?"

He seemed to bristle, nose flaring and looking at you expectantly.

You just… kinda sat there. You tapped your fingers together on the desk and kept the eye contact he was intent on. It took a good minute and him getting progressively pissier before you simply ask, "would you like the other movies now?"

You didn't expect an explosion of movement from the man. He downright snarled and slammed his hands on the table as he burst to his feet, the sudden change sending his chair screeching back before falling with a clatter. You leaned as far back as your cuffed hands would allow, eyes wide and a panic rising.

Both of you turned to look at the door when it slammed open with a barked, "Williams!" 

The man who opened it reared back a bit, "Christ, layin' it on a bit thick," he groused, his tone sounding more like someone chastising a teenager for using too much Axe body spray. He smoothed his posture back into something casual as he fanned the air dismissively with a hand, "cap wants you to take a walk."

Your interrogator- Williams, apparently- stares at the man in the door, the two locking eyes before the one in the door straightens from his purposely relaxed posture. You watch the both of them, noting the shoulders tensing as the two just. Staring at each other? Eventually the guy who'd been grilling you looked away and stormed out, the man in the doorway letting him slip out easily enough before turning a charming look back to you.

He took a minute to fan the door a few times to get newer, blissfully cool air in before he entered the room, "sorry 'bout him. He really did a number in here," the new guy tsked before closing the door quietly behind himself.

Your brow furrowed even as you slowly relaxed a bit, had this Williams guy like… farted or something? A nice quirk of ventilation keeping you from smelling something abhorrent? Either way you simply shrug as he walks in and tips the chair back up, sitting and giving another reassuring smile, "how you doing, love?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before simply settling on, "I'm a bit… whelmed? This has been," you give as vague a rolling gesture as you can without your cuffs rattling too badly, "a lot? And I have no idea what just set him off either?"

It's the man before you's turn to quirk a brow, "no idea?"

"If I knew the answers to his questions I'd've given 'em by now. I don't, though, and then he just started staring? And hell I just thought it was some kinda macho 'I can stare the truth out of you,'" you pitched your voice lower and pushed your shoulders out for a second to mimic the douchebag behavior before settling, "so I kept eye contact because I'm so out of my depth I have no reason to lie at all and now…" you trail off, gesturing around the room, "all that."

The man nods slowly, "alright love, could you tell me about the last five years?"

Your brows furrow, "oh fuck, 2019 was five years ago wasn't it. God, time is an illusion. Anyway, you want what I was doing leading up to and through the pandemic?"

You think he might've startled for a second but he simply moved to scratch his chin, "mhmm. Just your thoughts on the last five years is all."

So… you ramble. Because he was nice and not prodding or asking weird questions. You talk to him about your job before the pandemic, how people thought covid was just a flu until the death tolls kept climbing, how tons of governments dropped the ball on a local or country-wide level and how that kicked back onto your life, and then the absolute crapshoot of the last election cycle, the shitty 'oh no this is the new normal everything is fine' behavior that has lead to surges and cycles of a fucking plague and so on. He simply nodded, gave some sympathetic hums and winces appropriately at your experiences.

"And did you go back and watch Star Wars through that? Or other things Disney owned?"

And, well, that was a weird way to phrase it but you shrugged, "the mouse is just shy of a monopoly and not one that anybody can take that down so… yeah, I guess? They kept putting shows out and expanding their Star Wars universe so that's been kinda neat to watch but not just them, no. Couple other games and stuff like that to keep me busy, too," you kinda handwave and shut up because panic rambling to MILITARY PERSONNEL is probably not your smartest move in hindsight. Especially when you don't know his name. A+, self.

You tap your fingers against the metal table as he looks at you, "and you said covid has a long term effect of ruining people's senses of smell and taste?"

You nod slowly, "yeah, dude? It's one of the biggest warning signs for most people? Like if everything starts tasting like it was made by a middle class white mom who keeps shoving random letters in her kids names you should swab? That kinda shit?"

What rock has this guy been living under? You were pretty sure the military were supposed to be way more familiar with this shit all things considered, but you've been wrong before.

It was his turn to give you a bit of a wide eyed look before he poorly covers a laugh, "alright, that's fair. I need to go talk with my captain," he hooks a thumb over his shoulder to the window, which didn't surprise you that there had been people back there. He offers a reassuring smile as he stands, humming idly as he pushes the chair back in. He pauses mid-step, "you mentioned that there were cards…?"

You find yourself nodding slowly, "yeah it was important and you couldn't fly or go to certain places if you didn't have one for a while. Should still have a picture of mine buried on my phone," you really didn't wanna get another first-round of covid shots, you REALLY didn't wanna repeat the 24 hours of suck for no reason.

"Cool, thanks," he flashes another charming grin before he slides out of the room.

You lean back in your chair, what an odd guy. Nice though.

-------

"Right," Gaz says as he opens the door to Price and Ghost, "either our mystery guest is off her nut or she's legitimately from somewhere and somewhen else."

Ghost and Price look at each other before turning back to Gaz, this… complicated matters.

Well, it's not like you hadn't given them information to identify yourself. They'd dig up who you were one way or another.

-------

You stare blankly as the nice man from before gives you a sympathetic look, "what do you mean I'm dead?"

Behind him is a guy you're not sure if he's just fuckoff huge or if he's just moderately huge and it's forced perspective.

You don't think it's forced perspective.

You are absolutely trying not to panic spiral.

You are absolutely doing a horrible job at that.

"Well," he opens the file before him and there's a news article, proudly proclaiming "Locals Die in Horrible Freak Accident" like that's not some form of you that was looking like some smear on the pavement, "there's this. Fingerprints match up. Can check for dental if you're really curious."

"Were there even any teeth left after that," you mumble as you take and read the offered article. Seven people were involved, the pictures used are mostly flattering. Hell, you almost don't mind what pic they used for an alternate you but… "that's certainly not the pic I would've wanted. Maybe this me had different tastes?"

You take the time to actually read through the article. It's not helping because for as much as you stare at the page you're not absorbing any information. Some form of detachment, if this was really you? You'd died. A different you but a you nonetheless. You died and you're reading how it happened. There was a lot to unpack in all this and you just needed to put the suitcase away for now. You'd much rather throw it away at this rate.

You were rapidly coming to the understanding that you and Toto were not in Kansas anymore, and there wasn't a convenient yellow brick road to get yourself back home. No easy way to get the hell out of Dodge either. Was it Dodge or the O.K. Corral that was in Kansas? No the O.K. Corral wasn't in Kansas- Dodge was though, that's right. 

This analogy was getting away from you and some part of you figured this was just your brain trying to protect yourself but… wait, wasn't this a metaphor? There wasn't 'like' or 'as' or goddammit not again.

You recognize some names here and there but largely everyone involved were perfect strangers. The article doesn't cover if it would've been slow or quick. You hope for the smear that it was quick. Smears like that don't happen slowly, right? Well, not unless it's like a dramatic slide down a window, but not usually across pavement like that.

Still not sure how you feel about all of it. Bit morbid being confronted with your mortality like that.

Certainly answered a lot of questions about your theoretical passing you never thought about. Like if the obituary for you in what you know to be your own home and world is just as… really kinda just mediocre as this. Have you really done nothing of note for an obituary? Damn.

You kept pouring over the article, each pass bringing new words into focus that help connect the picture a little bit, but… Something repeated in the article made you pause, "two alphas, four betas, and an omega?" 

There was no decent way to ask about that. Any questions invoked from here would border into dangerous territory better kept between yourself and a private browser history. You knew what you were about but there was no fucking way.

"Their designations," the nice man whose name you still hadn't caught explains, "mostly explaining their secondary gender."

You look at him owlishly. You pray to whatever God might be listening that you wake up shortly. Or that the earth below your feet opens up and swallows you. Whichever comes first, the mortification will snipe you otherwise.

"Please tell me this is an elaborate joke at my expense," you are very quiet as you are trying to get really cool with a lot of things really quickly.

"Negative," the big fucker in the back practically growled and you knew that voice would do things to you if you weren't half stepped out of your own body. 

You missed whatever his followup was but your brow furrowed when you checked the date on the article, "I've been dead for months? That…" you let the paper fall from your hands. Everything about this is wild at best and very overwhelming at worst. 

A lot of this qualified as worst.

You look up at the two, missing the odd look they shot at each other as you try to pull yourself back together, "so now what? You've got a not-a-smear of me that fell from the sky onto a secure military base, and where I'm from we didn't have," you paused to gesture between the paper and the two soldiers, "dynamics was it? That was just a fanfiction special."

"Fanfiction."

The way he said it was so carefully neutral you paused, "oh my god without Star Trek to popularize fanfiction and the fan community, how has fandom evolved? Is fanfiction a thing- well, yes, it does fanfics have been a thing since Dante Alighieri wrote the Divine Comedy and even before- well, the question is more if it's still popularized? Are there still the wattpad fics of- I am getting so off track. What exactly is the next step?"

You look from the nice man to the big fucker and back, neither saying anything but looking at you with careful blankness.

You felt like you were being weighed and measured in their eyes.

You hoped to anyone listening that you weren't found wanting at least. Not when you're in the shit situation it looks like you ever so increasingly fell into.

"Considering I'm. Not smear. And very much not from here? Are blanks a thing? Or is that what a beta is I'm," you trail off, brow furrowing, "fuzzy. On the whole thing. The flavor of understanding, dynamics, and population skew tended to be dependant on the author's level of horny."

The did get a bit of a snort from the pretty one before you, the one in the back tilting his head just so as the pretty one spurred you on, "okay please don't take this the wrong way, you have given me nothing to go on but A/B/O and-" a finger was raised in question to that, you quickly explaining, "the fanfic shorthand for the universe without being a mouthful. Anyway- I've seen population numbers being roughly the same across the board, I've seen alphas and omegas at roughly 1% of the population of society on either end, I've seen alphas at about 5% and omegas at 1%- those ones are usually the most horny I swear.

"And it's all over the board, no consistency- sometimes it's betas are infertile, sometimes they're the straightman to the comedy that's an alpha and omega trying to woo each other without being too horny to function. Sometimes it's a sliding scale where being beta just means you're more the more middle-ground regulated hormonally with alphas and omegas being the opposing ends of a spectrum. Can you please say something and give me a fucking break because my panic rambles are probably like. Some kinda prejudiced. I'm still not over the 'I'm supposed to be a smear on the ground we don't even have dental images of to confirm who it is anymore' nugget you dropped on me. I think I'm doing well for this"

You would rather not tell them that as soon as you're out of this box of a room you were gonna be curled up in a ball and unabashedly weeping. That was none of their business.

The pretty one gave you what you're sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile but the quiet stretched just a bit too long. You looked from one to the other before leaning forward, "is this supposed to be soothing in some way? Because it's just a bit of an extended awkward silence and that's uh-"

It was the big one in the back's turn to give an amused snort, the pretty one looking bashful, "right, sorry, we uh-"

You jerk a bit, "wait, was that supposed to be some scent thing," you really didn't wanna say pheromones and potentially dig yourself into a deeper, more awkward hole based on Horny Pseudoscience.

Pretty rubbed the back of his neck, "something like that. You really couldn't smell anything?"

You know the exact Face you're making. It's very much your 'I have told you this and I'm getting tired of having to repeat it' face. You can tell he clocks it but for the record, because to your mortification this has to be recorded, you simply give a succinct, "no, I haven't smelled anything. Not from you, not from him," you jerk your head towards the big fucker, "and not from douchebag from be- Williams! His name was Williams. Nothing. Really had no clue why you were fanning the door when you came in."

You sigh, rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes, "okay. Assuming I'm not about to be put into past tense a second time. Do we have any idea what popped me out here?"

The sentences are stilted, you know you're getting more rattled the longer you're here but sue you alright it's been the worst six hours of your life here.

They just continue to look at you, pretty keeping a polite almost customer service look as big one just stares unceasingly.

"Right. Okay. Am I going to be reintegrated to society or is this," you gesture around the little room as much as you can, "looking like my home for the foreseeable future."

No change in what you can see of either's expression, and you just sag. Deep breath in, deep breath out, "cool. Alright. Well. I know nothing of how biology is altered here, I'm not sure how that has impacted changes throughout history, and frankly I don't know what your pop culture has done. I'm assuming math and written languages are largely the same but in all fairness I don't know what I don't know."

You just stare quietly at the table for a bit longer before looking back at the two of them, "is there anything else you need because I can feel the freakout creeping up and while I know there's no real privacy, uh…"

The pretty one looked back to the big one, at some point you're sure you'll get some sort of names but for now? Now you watch the big one nod, the pretty one give you a polite smile and some vaguely polite bullshit your brain is swiftly going too far out to hear.

You only hope that whoever is behind the mirror is polite enough to look away as you put your head down on the table and give yourself the opportunity to, just this once, cry. As a treat.

[Next Chapter -> ]

[myuminji]

Undead AU

Wolfwood who died in the midst of their journey, and Vash who, in his panic, tried to save him with the combination of the vials he'd forced him to drink and the plant energy unconsciously coming out of him.

Vash, who succeeded in reviving Wolfwood—only for the body he cradles to deteriorate as quick as it regenerates to become shapeless. Vash who, in his panic, binds a collapsing corpse with whatever he finds within his proximity.

(the punisher remains unwrapped that day)

Vash who reassures everyone it's still the Wolfwood everyone knows—just a bit sluggish and not talkative, if not, at all. He insists on taking care of him. (no one dares to tell him otherwise)

Vash who re-wraps the bandage everyday to prevent Wolfwood from falling apart. Vash adding new bandages on top of the decaying ones, layers upon layers. Wolfwood who writes on the bandages 'you have to be healthy', 'don't cause trouble', 'idiot needle-noggin'

Wolfwood who dreams of nightmares, suffocated by the bandages wrapping him, unable to breathe he thinks he's dying (but he's dead, isn't he? he's living on borrowed time isn't he?)

Wolfwood who wakes up and tries to rip off all his bandages and Vash who runs and tries to stop him. Vash pinning him down into a hug to stop him from struggling and Wolfwood discovering he very much like the warmth and suffocating feeling of a hug against his cold body better than the binds of the bandages

Vash hugging (out of fear of his body collapsing and losing him) and Wolfwood hugging (out of the feeling of comfort in his arms). Vash shaking Wolfwood in the middle of the night because he can't tell if he's asleep... or not. Wolfwood who hasn't slept since he's died but pretends to be asleep for him (the two can play pretend)

Wolfwood who knows he's living through bought time and tried to escape from Vash, to end both his and his own sufferings (he failed, and Vash hadn't let him out of his sight ever since)

[nero-neptune]

it's a desert song mcr kinda night

[mortuarywriting]

I had not

Tolkien started rewriting the Hobbit in the style of LotR, but what I really want is the Silmarillion in the style of the Hobbit. 

[mortuarywriting]

We discussed my tagging methods in another server. Please understand

[zickmonkey]

I should probably write that scene I've been daydreaming for like literally a week shouldn't I

[evilminji]

You know what seriously doesn't get played with enough?

In the grand, shared, doll set of Danny Phantom?

The cultural alienation.

Is Danny up to date on Human Memes? Did he see that movie? Hear about that celebrity drama? He lives here, amongst us, WITH us. But? Feels... half out of the loop.

And? He can't SHARE his passions with us.

Is he REALLY gonna show his new lecture buddy that hot new Kryptonian Sci-fi series he picked up from the Zone's nearest mega market bookstore? Invite a neighbor over for some sparkling ectoplasm laced soda and a binge of this cool Alien animated film from a long dead planet's artist guild? They're trying new mediums, apparently! Danny thinks it's pretty cool, he hopes they make more.

Oh, but maybe he can talk about games!

Except he switched to the technologically far more advanced Z-Held, years ago. They have literally billions of billions of options, since every game maker in their region of the Zone designs for it. Has for millennia.

....music?

Ghost speak either creeps people out or actually hurts to hear, if they listen too long. And "normal" music... feels so FLAT. Emotionless. Yeah, he'll LISTEN... smile and agree it sound nice. But it's... it's so bland? Less then bland.

He can't even share his food! It's a one way trip to ER! If not the morgue. Half his spices are FROM the Zone now. And Zone plants? Heeeeeella poisonous to humans. Tasty af to HIM, but... yeah. No sharing.

So like... what does that LEAVE him? Dance? Hobbies? Sam n Tucker he can share his REAL interests with, but... they went to different colleges. And protecting people isn't a hobby. It's more of a Gotta, you know? He ALSO can't join any space related clubs because now he knows WAY too much about Space.

Like "above civilian clearance, no one on this planet should know that" a lot.

He gets distracted. Too excited. He KNOWS himself.

He would totally ramble on about Space.

He's a Fenton, man. It's genetic.

So... he's lonely. Adrift. A sad, sad, semi-feral noodle of a man. And you know who would never let that stand? Who also wants to know what THE FUCK he's listen too, because it's both giving him a headache and creeping him out? Kon.

This dude reminds him of Tim. Complete with the feral energy and fluffy hair. *snaps pick* lol, bro, is you. ANYWAY, this guy? Apparently the source of the Kent family splitting migraines. That sound has been KILLING them. They need to get this guy better headphones. Aliens gotta stick together, you know? Time to go make friends.

*floats over in his shades n leather jacket* Sup~!

[revxwrites]

GUESS WHO'S BACK TO RAMBLE HEHE

I'm sorry for the horrible ms paint doodles but I needed something to explain my Shadow Knights

anyways ramble under cut as always

cw mention of cannibalism and light gore (?)

SHADOW KNIGHTS!!

Undead fellas /silly

In all seriousness shadow knights are well, yeah undead, a subcategory of undead in my rewrite, specifically knights of our dear shadow lord

humans affected by sk magic

there's humans like brian and alexis that have been exposed to large amounts of shadow knight magicks, which made them have the same 'veins' sk's have under their eyes, but still be human (ie. alexis' curse)

usually there's no side effects to large amounts of exposure to shadow knight magic other than mood swings (irritability or rage)

incomplete (premature) sk's

a 'premature' shadow knights eyes are their original eye color with very small hints of red in them, as if alluding to the side of themselves they pick to repress typically only magicks users can see the red of their eyes, and the 'veins' they have around them. to the untrained human eye their eyes look their original color but don't have any life in them

they have a hard time controlling their temper, still attempting to retain a sense of humanity that they have long lost

immortal sk's

to become immortal a shadow knight must kill either their lord or the person closest to them, and ingest their heart (as mentioned in gene's story), or alternatively, they must take countless lives of the innocent

once immortal they may gain different abilities, or a boost to the ones they already own. ie. Gene's mind manipulation working without having to touch the person (unlike his mortal counterpart)

another example is Zenix' flame manipulation (despite not being a magicks user)

general shadow knight facts

they're smelly, especially when having recently emerged from the nether shadow knights have an incontrollable appetite, similar to a

zombie, they can eat human food but it doesn't sit very well with them (the only thing that'll control their appetite is human flesh)

there's certain shadow knights who's bodies cease to exist (or are reclaimed by the earth in the mortal realm). in cases like those they are made new vessels of materials of the nether

shadow knights stop aging once they gain their immortality

Shadow Knights hibernate in order to heal their bodies in the overworld, their healing can be sped if left in a place that'll connect it to it's undead roots (morgue, graveyard, etc), due to the fact they feed off of the dead spirits lingering, using what little energy is left of them to heal.

Shadow Lord > Sergeants > Commanders > Magicks Users > Soldiers

with the hierarchy set above we go

shad > gene > zenix (pre betrayal) > sasha > vylad (before caught) > glenda

in terms of the shadow knight 'rebels' we have (in strength)

vincent > zenix (mostly due to his instability) > vylad > laurence > amethyst (this is before the rebellion is properly set in place, still during season 1)

anyways thank you for attending my ted talk /silly

[especially-obsessed]

#icanteven

pt. 1

#icanteven - The Neighbourhood

"I can't even, I can't even believe what you did to me You can't even, you can't even say I'm overreacting I can't even, can't even hear your side Shame on me, you fooled me twice"

Summary: series; Sam cheats on you.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: descriptions of depression, guilt, anger, infidelity, fluff

Word count: 1.1k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The Night

The morgue. Your favorite place! Not. Dean had convinced you to go to the morgue with him (after hours) because of a hunch he had. Something wasn’t sitting right about the bodies that had turned up. Sam stayed back at the motel to do some research. And you thought nothing of it.

Dean pulled into the motel parking lot, rambling on about some Led Zepplin album you asked about. The Impala came to a halt at the curb, right outside your bedrooms. The weight of the days work suddenly wore down on your body, and you could physically feel your shoulders slouch. And then you heard it. The long and low bellow, deep from the pit of your stomach. You looked over at Dean, food in hand, and burst into laughter. 

“Did that sound really just come from your stomach?” Dean joked, opening the driver side door. You balanced the food in one hand and you used the other to open your door. Dean walked around his car and held open the car door for you. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I just want to eat real food,” you said, handing the drink carrier off to Dean. 

“Yeah, who orders health food from a place like that?” Dean said, genuine disgust painted on his face. “Imagine the chemicals they put on that stuff!” 

“Like the saturated fats in the rest of their food is so much better,” you countered. Dean was ready for a full argument about this, even though you agreed with him. Before he could get any more worked up, you turned to him. “You eating with us?” you asked him, waiting outside of your motel door. You were eager to see Sam, even though you’d only been gone for three hours. Dean nodded and waited for you to open your door. You quickly fumbled with your key, clutching the bags of food tightly. You couldn’t bear another car ride with Dean after a food mishap. 

The lock on your door beeped, and you pushed open the motel room door. Instantly, you noticed something was off. Sam was in bed. He wasn’t clothed, and you could clearly see where the thin motel sheet met his hip bone. 

And he wasn’t alone. 

You could see blonde hair sprawled out on the pillows. The outline of her feet entangled with Sam’s outlined by the sheets. Sam was hovering over her body, his toned biceps on either side of her head. He slowly knelt down, bringing his face to hers. They were completely ignorant of the company they now had. They were still going…

Everything around you faded. 

Except for them.

You stood in the doorway, shell-shocked. Stuck in place. The soles of your shoes super glued to the floor. Dean pulled you from the doorway, pulling your line of vision away from the bed you had just slept in last night. He quickly opened the door to his room next to yours and let you in. He closed it gently behind him as he left again. But you were unaware of what was happening. You drifted into the room, letting your feet carry you aimlessly. You ended up at the edge of one of the beds in the room. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. A shadow of who you were moments ago. You felt numb. There was commotion next door. Someone was shouting. Someone else responded. The door slammed, and then the lock clicked and Dean walked back through the door, your duffle bag in hand. You couldn’t even lift your head to look at him, staring blankly at the pale-colored wall in front of you.

“You’re gonna stay the night in here with me sweetheart. We’ll deal with this in the morning,” he spoke softly. You were completely still, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Your chest barely moved as you breathed shallow breaths. 

Dean was angry, but knew now wasn’t the time to show it. His chest ached with the pain he knew you were feeling. He gently guided you up and to the head of the bed. He knelt and helped you take your boots off, then your socks. He gently pushed on your shoulder, helping you lay back. You rolled away from him, not wanting to see his face. His pity. He pulled the bed covers to your shoulders, and rubbed your back softly, before settling in for the night himself. 

You could hear Sam talking through the paper-thin walls, worry seeping out of every word. You could tell by his rushed tone. He was talking to whoever she was. And you didn’t even want to know. All you wanted to do was leave. You couldn’t face Dean in the morning, feeling his pitying glance every time you made a move. And you couldn’t face Sam. He would just make the situation worse. 

 Soon the voices faded and you were left alone with your thoughts. Warm tears trickled over the bridge of your nose and down the side of your cheek. 

You needed to get out. You needed to leave.

Hours later, once you heard Dean’s heavy breaths from the bed next to yours, you knew it was time. You sat up slowly, glancing over to make sure that he was asleep. He was belly down, head tilted to the side with one arm resting under his pillow. Surely, he had a pistol of some sort tucked under his head, hand on the trigger. Any sudden sounds triggering his fight or flight reflections, and he would have that gun pulled on you. 

You swung your feet over the edge of the bed and placed them on the carpeted floor. As quietly as possible, you put on your socks and your boots, feeling like you were banging on pots and pans with every lace you looped. It took only a few seconds for you to compose yourself and grab your duffle bag. Your heart ached. This didn’t feel right. Not like this. But you needed to be as far away from the Winchesters as possible. 

You quickly scribbled Dean a note on the stained notepad and placed it carefully on the table by the window. You slipped out the door without a word or so much as a glance back at the motel. 

And you disappeared into the night.

Series Masterlist

A/N: <3

Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:

[mortuarywriting]

They're... definitely shaped with very interesting proportions, sometimes.

Space marines are made of Gummy Bear meat.

[antennas-to-heaven]

ramble on haibara and nanami's dynamic

i feel like people don't talk about their dynamic enough but like. i love how you can retrace nanamis grief for haibara in so many of his good actions, be it taking yuji in, mentoring ino, his general protection of the youth...it all stems from the trauma of haibara's death, and the fact he sees haibara in yuji makes it all the more harrowing. he is basically lead by the grief and guilt and his caring disposition is his way of "saving" haibara, his own blue spring.

in fact, in the colored page for chapter 100, haibara is seen putting cherry blossoms on nanami's weapon bag thingy. in japan, cherry blossom flowers not only represent beauty, but also the fleeting nature of life, which applies to haibara, who died when he was just a teenager, when his life was just beginning, but you can also say that with the beauty part of the flower's meaning, you can deduct that haibara was the most beautiful person nanami knew, in every single way possible.

haibara's existence, to nanami, was beautiful, yet so short lived. this is more of a personal thing, but they also have that icarus/sun dynamic; nanami's grief for haibara is so strong, the guilt from his death is what pushed him away from jujutsu society but later on back into it, cause nanami being a sorcerer and helping innocent people would have been what haibara would've wanted, right? of course, this indirectly leads him to his death in shibuya. and the first person whom nanami sees, on the bring of death, is haibara. even when he's near death, he sinks into the comforting and sunny presence of his beloved sunshine.

nanami loved haibara so much it led to his death. his love for haibara indirectly killed him. and yet, haibara's last "appearance" is so off; there's many speculations on why, be it that nanami's memory is failing him, or that the last time he saw haibara was when he was cold and dead in the morgue, but there's also a personal favourite of mine; it's a metaphor for how nanami's grief has tainted his memory of haibara. the haibara nanami remembered never really existed, he was tainted by guilt, grief and hatred and nanami clenched onto that memory so hard it bent and broke in the end. in the end, grief and guilt taints everything, especially the memory of your beloved best friend. and yet, this presence is so oddly comforting to him. his last smile, in a way, was because of haibara.

haibara was nanami's sun. his blue spring. his whole world. his other half. they complete each other, metaphorically and literally - haibara loses his lower body, nanami loses his upper body. his ideals were a reconciliation between his own and haibara's. without haibara, nanami became a drone, both for capitalism and for jujutsu society. he cannot function without his other half. they complete each other, but one half was ripped so briskly from the other that it staggered the other half for life. nanami built walls around him all his life because of haibara's death. the death of the only person who saw sides of him nobody else had ever seen. nanami had lost his sun, and his world went dark until they met again in death. in fact, nanami says haibara made his last moments more enjoyable.

even in death, nanami falls into the radiant, solar comfort of haibara. the one person who brightened up his dark world. his sun to his dark side of the moon.

[cherrywaves333]

hi!! this is my first ever tumbr post, i'm super excited and super nervous for how it's gonna be received since i've been a fly on the wall in s o o o o many communities for years. i hope you enjoy!!

warnings/tags: abuse, drugs/alcohol, the normal cm stuff, hospitals, emetophobia at the end (very slight mentions of vomiting), reader is a stripper, use of y/n, slight age gap if you squint, black!reader, spencer is a bit of a perv if you squint.

“oh, fuck,” she thought as she looked at the team’s destination. 

she read the name over two or three times on the jet, Charlie’s Devils. it was the same unclever name of the same dingy strip joint she used to work at to pay her way through college and the academy. she bit her lip in silence as the team went over the case. she didn’t flip any further than the first page so as to not potentially see any of her old friends in a state she couldn’t unsee. 

Spencer was the first to notice her uncharacteristic silence. he was going to question her about it, but he didn’t want to mention her unease in front of everyone. he knew what it was like to be the youngest and newest on the team and he didn’t want to put her in a position where she felt she had to defend her spot on the team. but, he did observe her and the cogs turning in her brain as she stared at the picture of the epicenter of the murders. it looked as though she wasn’t breathing, she was so still. then, she spoke.

“okay, i feel like i’ve been here long enough that i can trust you all and i know i’ve proven myself more than capable and professional on this team,” she began to ramble before stopping herself to breathe, “i used to work here.” 

the team fell silent, especially Spencer who was now left in her old position. he stiffened up, his breath caught in his throat at the thought. he had tried his best not to imagine her in any light other than his best friend as he knew they could never happen. he knew he was too old for her. JJ was the first to crack a smile, followed by Emily who couldn’t help but laugh. 

“but you can’t walk in heels!” Emily laughed a little harder. 

“shut up! i so can!” y/n defended herself, ears hot with embarrassment but also relief. 

“no, you can’t. you look like a deer!” Morgan added on. 

Hotch observed y/n for a minute and her gaze shifted to his, causing her to shrink into her seat a little further. everyone fell quiet, both hoping that Hotch wasn’t mad at her and that they hadn’t embarrassed her. 

“do you want to sit this case out?” Hotch questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“no! actually, i thought i could be more helpful,” she reasoned, hoping he wouldn’t take her off the case, “none of them know i joined the FBI except my cousin, i could be an informant, i could go undercover, wherever you need me.” 

“we’ll see how it goes when we touch down. for now, i want you as far away from the club as possible. stay in the police station. Prentiss, Morgan, go to the club and ask questions. Reid, L/N, stay at the precinct, go over the files and work on the profile. Rossi, go down to the morgue and see the MD. JJ will come with me to talk to the victims' families.” 

everyone closed their case files and waited on the flight to Los Angeles. y/n had moved over to the couch by herself and busied herself with music and a book, but she had been on the same page for the last 5 minutes. not that spencer was counting or anything. he moved to sit next to her to make sure she was alright with working this case. 

“you okay, y/n?” he asked, softly.

she didn’t answer for a moment before answering with a question of her own, “who were the victims?” 

as spencer went down the list of 5 victims from the same club, she didn’t recognize any of them, they were all new girls. she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. she felt guilty for the relief that she felt, but she needed to know that none of them were her girls in order to work the case. 

“i don’t know any of them,” she breathed out. 

he felt his heart throb with sympathy for her as she was willing to work her friends’ case earlier, knowing what she would have to see. she gave spencer a small smile before speaking again. 

“you don’t see me any different?” 

spencer furrowed his eyebrows, “of course not, being an exotic dancer isn’t anything to be ashamed of.” 

she laughed a little at the title, “this club is not nice enough for us to be called exotic dancers.” 

once they arrived at the precinct, spencer and y/n immediately got to work setting up the profile. she thought back to everything she knew about this club, overthinking and overanalyzing every aspect, every dynamic. 

“were these girls working the streets as well as the club?” she asked, looking at their outfits. 

“there’s nothing in their files, why do you ask?” spencer looked up in confusion.

“the girls who just work the club show up in warm ups, sweatsuits, pajamas, hair and makeup not done, and they leave that way. the girls who work the street get cute before coming,” she explained, pointing to each girl looking done up. 

“i’ll let everyone know we might be working with potential street workers,” spencer nodded at her observation.

she bit her finger as she stared at the board, unmoving as she analyzed every single detail. the method of murder on each victim was strangulation. each victim had alcohol and drugs in their system, namely MDMA and high levels of THC. most of the girls at the club partook in a party drug every once in a while, especially during an off day. y/n tried to stay away from harder drugs, sticking to weed during her college years and only dabbling outside of that for two years. each victim was in their early 20’s, but they were all different physiologically. none of them were the same race or body type. one girl was 5’8 while another was only 4’11. 

hours later, the team met up to discuss the details of the case. the killings were sporadic, there was no pattern to the space in between killings. the victims all worked in the same club, but other than that there were no obvious links. there was no DNA left at the crime scenes. Rossi had found that the bodies were scrubbed clean before they were dumped.

y/n couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, this whole case felt familiar to her. she kept shaking it off as being the club she used to work at and the feeling that this could’ve been her or her friends. she knew deep down that wasn’t it. 

“L/N, i want you to go down to the club tomorrow. dress casual, show face, let people know you’re back in town,” Hotch stated casually. 

all eyes fell on her and spencer was the first to speak, “are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“i’ll do it,” she nodded at Hotch, “am i going undercover?” 

“if we don’t catch this guy by day after tomorrow, you’ll be going undercover that night,” Hotch confirmed. 

she nodded before excusing herself to get some water with spencer hot on her tail. 

“kid’s got it bad for her,” morgan nodded. 

“he’s just looking out for her,” JJ shot down the idea, “it’s sweet seeing spence stepping up.” 

“20 bucks says they start dating before the end of the month,” emily wagered after Hotch left the room.

“you’re on,” morgan took the deal. 

“100 bucks says they start dating before the end of the case,” rossi remarked before leaving the room as well. 

“you don’t have to go undercover if you don’t want to. none of us will think any less of you,” spencer started as soon as they were alone. 

“i can handle a sting, spencer,” she chuckled, a little sarcastically. 

“are you sure? you’ve been anxious all day,” he shot back.

“are you seriously profiling me?” she scoffed, “you know what, i think you do think less of me. i’m not a child, spencer, i can handle my job.” 

she stormed out of the office, pausing to ask Hotch if she was good to leave. she left the precinct to go get into character for her upcoming operation. 

the next day, she walked into the club, donning a new nail set and done up hair. her outfit was much less than anything she would ever wear to work, trading her usual blouse and jeans for a mini skirt and a cute top. as soon as she opened the doors, she was taken back 4 years to the last time she was here. 

“y/n? is that you, baby?” she heard a familiar voice call to her. 

“did ya miss me?” she let her personality shine through her voice with a huge smile on her face. 

Laticia wrapped her arms around the girl, squeezing her tightly and whispering, “i told that fine ass man yesterday that you needed to be here with us until they catch the bastard that’s killing my girls.” 

“let’s go to the back,” y/n nodded with a smile. 

“look who’s back!” Laticia announced to the girls, “just in time to get me in this corset. let’s go, show’s in 2 hours!” 

she got dragged to Laticia’s private room before any of the girls could even get up and swarm her. she took in the room that used to be theirs. the two vanity mirrors, one decorated and one abandoned with a lone vase of orchids atop it. the pink carpet with questionable crunchy parts. the posters on the walls. Laticia took her sweatshirt off and slipped on the corset. 

“lace me up while we talk,” she said, playing music over her speakers loudly so no one could hear them. 

“what’s new here?” y/n said in detective mode. 

“King’s running shit now,” she whispered, “he’s got almost every girl in his grip, time’s are real bad over here.” 

y/n fell quiet at the mention of her ex, “are you working for him? is sadie?”

“no, no. but, you have to stop him, y/n/n. i feel like he’s at the center of all this, i know it.” 

“i know, we can’t link him to anything, though, tish. there’s nothing i can do.” 

she got her laced in and Laticia wiped her face, letting y/n speak again, “i can convince my boss to let me go undercover and work here again.”

“king wants you back, he never let you breaking up with him and leaving the club go. he’s gonna come after you,” Laticia shook her head at the suggestion. 

“and my team will take him down, babe, i got this,” she hugged her cousin and walked out to be swarmed by the old girls welcoming her back. 

after a bit of convincing, she was allowed to get on the pole the next night. she sat in the dressing room, putting makeup on by herself. she had told the team it was best she showed up just as she would when she worked here before. 

“heard you were back,” a voice said from the doorway.

her blood ran cold as she looked up through the mirror, “what do you want, king?” 

“so it’s king now? what happened to auggie?” he questioned, condescendingly. 

“you choked me,” she stated, coldly, going back to her eyeliner. 

“you know i didn’t mean it, baby,” he dropped down to her side, “i missed you, you left in the middle of the night.” 

“you choked me,” she repeated, finishing her second wing. 

the two sat in silence for a beat before he grabbed her thigh and looked up at her, “smoke with me. just like old times.”

she tensed, knowing refusal would make her look suspicious but she couldn’t smoke because of her job. she looked at him, trying to look as sad as she could. his grip tightened the longer she hesitated. 

“i don’t smoke weed anymore,” she tried to shake him off. 

she sat and stared at him and he pulled something out of his pocket, “or do you think you need something stronger to take the edge off?” 

she shook her head and he nodded, “then smoke with me.” 

she sighed and gave in, feeling his grip getting tighter and tighter, “fine, but let go.” 

she didn’t have a wire, nobody was going to knock on her door. they had cameras set up all over the club and people undercover set up around the perimeter with Spencer, Morgan and Prentiss inside the club as patrons. there was nobody except one of the girls who could interrupt this interaction and keep it casual. 

he lit the end of the joint, releasing his grip on her. she relaxed ever so slightly being free from his grip, but still shaky about smoking. she inhaled the weed, body fully tensed as she thought about her career going down the drain. she felt herself getting higher the longer he kept her in the room, her tolerance dropping significantly in the 5 years since her last hit.

“let me put your glitter on you,” he whispered to her. 

she complied, trying to keep him happy and maintain the personality he knew of her, “don’t mess it up.” 

he pulled her robe off of her as soon as she stood up. the air was so thick she couldn’t breathe, she knew in her heart that he had killed those girls as soon as he spoke to her. he grabbed the glitter gel and rubbed it over every inch of exposed skin. she looked modest given the circumstances; cheeky high waisted champagne bottoms paired with a matching glittery bra with chains hanging off of the bottom. she donned rhinestone fishnets, a wine red garter, and high stilettos. she lost her balance when he gripped her hips to glitter up her stomach. 

“you’ve stayed in shape,” he flirted.

“wish i could say the same for you,” she shot down. 

he let the comment slide, finishing up her glitter and looking her over, “you walking around like this all night?” 

“the robe is a part of the set, don’t you remember, king?” she taunted him with his street name. 

she sauntered out of the room, head in a fog from the weed. she walked up to behind the main stage, waiting for Laticia, now candy, to finish her routine. she watched from the velvet curtain as her cousin picked up the money from the stage and strutted towards y/n. 

“you got this, cinny,” she smiled at the girl, squeezing her arm. 

Prentiss was sitting at the bar, sipping a rum n coke all coke. she watched the stage intently, using her peripherals to scout out potential criminals. 

“how yall doing tonight?” she heard the owner of the club announce over the microphone, much to the disdain of the patrons, “i know you came here to see these beautiful girls dance, but i want to welcome back a very special guest to our regs of years. our girl cinnamon will be taking the stage for the first time in 4 years.” 

y/n shook out all her nerves and told herself to remember her pole routine, trusting that she can work the stage just fine. she put on her stage face and sauntered on stage on beat as wine pon you started playing. she flipped her hair to the side as she got to the front of the stage, curled hair framing her face beautifully. 

i ain’t got my eyes on you

she bent over slowly before quickly squatting down, ass to the audience. Spencer stiffened in his seat.

ain't been hypnotized by you yet

she slowly stood up, pushing out her ass. spencer tried to picture the girl in the navy blue cardigan, speed running a puzzle with him on the jet. 

ain't in here tryna find my dude

he could see the body glitter on her chest as she rolled her body. 

i take it you just like the way i wine pon you

her hips whined their way down to the floor on beat. his hand gripped his glass tighter as his loose button down seemed to strangle him. 

she worked the stage, and spencer little to her knowledge. her mind was in such a fog, she knew she was working on muscle memory and personality alone. no logic to her movements, no calculation between her position and king. she felt all her training leave her brain, becoming a vessel to the mission, returning entirely to the club in that moment. she felt hunted. 

after some polework, she noticed king’s attention slip away from her onto a girl serving drinks and she was desperate to get it back. she climbed off the stage, sitting on his lap and lip syncing the lyrics to him, “be like a museum, got you lookin’ but you can’t touch.” 

she climbed off of him and dropped to her knees, maintaining eye contact with him. spencer’s eyes tracked her every move like a hawk, both in shock and intrigue at the provocative nature that she had hidden so well. he tried to figure out if any part of this was her or if it was all for the case. before she stood, she tossed her head back, making a pornographic face as she locked eyes with spencer across the club. she could see something in his gaze, a hunger she was unfamiliar with. 

she sauntered back to the stage from the club floor to finish her routine. from then on, she was juggling spencer and king’s attention, doing everything to keep the gaze on her. her every move was to make sure the light hit the detailing on her bra, the glitter on her skin was popping, that they could see her every curve. she made sure her lines were clean and that she was drawing them deeper and deeper into her. 

when her set was over, she returned to her dressing room. she had hoped deep down that spencer would come in to talk to her about the moment of eye contact they had shared. she hoped he would come in and tell her that she wasn’t delusional and that there was something there. but she knew they were working a case, she knew he wasn’t coming. 

her door opened and in came king, “why’d you leave the club again?” 

she turned around and giggled, “i had better opportunities.” 

he grabbed her hips, “like what?”

she giggled even more, leaning back against him, “college.”

“why don’t we get outta here and you can tell me all about it?” he leaned down to her face, pressing their noses together. 

she smiled, even though his grip was tightening and it was hurting her, “okay, king.” 

he draped his arm across her waist, keeping his hand on her hip. he guided her out of her dressing room after she slipped on her long robe and her sweats. she was tying it closed as she walked through the club, catching the attention of spencer and morgan. 

“i can’t change first, baby?” she asked, stumbling to keep up with him in her heels. 

“i like you like this,” he stated, not looking in her direction. 

“i look like a hooker,” she grumbled as she covered up.

he ignored her, squeezing her closer to him to keep her from wandering away. spencer had half the mind to start following them out because of his aggression toward his friend, but he waited for her signal. it also seemed like they were going out to his car, which was in his usual spot right next to the team’s stakeout van in the alley. 

the rest of the team waited in the van, watching as y/n stumbled to the car. they couldn’t tell if she was actually under the influence or if she was struggling to keep up with the man’s pace because of her shoes. they watched as she climbed into his tinted car and waited for any sign of a struggle or signal to move in. 

y/n anxiously shook her leg in the passenger’s seat, feeling any high she had going slipping away from her with the intensity of the situation. she was sitting in the car where dozens of women had likely been abused or killed, she couldn’t breathe. king climbed into the driver’s seat a second later and just watched the girl. 

“you good?” he questioned. 

she couldn’t get anything out, thinking about the last time she was in this car, “i’m fine.” 

“nah, you’re tense,” he tried, pushing her buttons.

she shook her head and tried her hardest to relax, but she was angry at him. she was mad for herself, she was mad for the other girls, she was boiling over with hatred. she couldn’t stand the idea of him thinking he had all this power over not just her but women in general. she was so wrapped in her hatred, she didn’t see it. 

“come on, baby,” he held a powdery tablet in the shape of a playboy bunny. 

“what?” she questioned, knocked out of her gaze. 

“it’s e, baby, you used to do it all the time, remember?” he held out the suspiciously printed drug.

she tried to shake her head, but realized he wasn’t asking her. the moment she got in the car, she was in his domain, under his influence, at his beck and call. she couldn’t say no. 

so, she took it. and the next 15 minutes were a blur. 

“get off me!” she screamed, kicking at him and the driver’s side window as he knocked her head back against the passenger’s door. 

he was trying to force her into the backseat as she kicked and screamed, clawing at his neck and face. she managed to flip them, so they were fighting in the driver’s seat and her butt slammed on the horn multiple times. the team took this as her signal and moved in as he threw her into the backseat. they fought as the window broke all over them and the door flung open. 

he was pulled off of her as she crawled out of the other door. spencer was waiting on her side of the car and she immediately backed into him. 

“i need to go get my stomach pumped,” she gasped, putting all her body weight against him as the adrenaline wore off and the exhaustion hit. 

~

spencer had waited in the emergency waiting area, his leg anxiously shaking as he waited for the girl to wake up. he thought over the situation and couldn’t believe she would be so careless with her life. what if he had laced the drugs? did she even know what she took? he couldn’t fathom how she ended up in that position and why he didn’t push back against her going undercover harder.

“she’s awake,” garcia informed the team as she waited in the room with her. 

spencer stood up first, “can i go see her?” 

the team decided to let spencer go up first while garcia let them know how she was doing. 

y/n looked over at the lanky man in her doorway and a smile graced her cracked, chapped lips. she looked almost gray, but spencer could see her heart was beating strong and her lungs were full of air on the monitor, giving him comfort. she was a little embarrassed, her teeth were covered in charcoal and she had very clearly just vomited. 

“hi,” her voice raspy from throwing up. 

“i’m so glad you’re okay,” he said awkwardly, not moving from his spot. 

“me too,” she giggled, trying to make a joke. she grabbed her water taking a sip, “i’m sorry i scared you.” 

“what were you thinking?” he sat down, next to her. 

“it was me or someone else, at least the team was there for me,” she shrugged.

“no, taking the drugs. you could’ve died, you don’t know what he put in that,” he pushed, starting to get annoyed by her lack of care. 

“i had to do something, spence. i wasn’t getting out of that car without taking something with him.” 

spencer twiddle his fingers before tossing his hands, obviously getting frustrated, “that’s not the point!” 

“why are you so upset?” she furrowed her eyebrows, expecting this from hotch but not spencer. 

“because i just realized i like you and then you almost die!” spencer snapped at the girl, word vomiting his thoughts. 

the room falls quiet, minus the beeping of the monitors connected to y/n. she looked at spencer with tight lips, deciding to lighten the mood once again. 

“can you say that again when i don’t have a black smile and bruises?” 

[pincushionx]

Oh I just had an evil thought about the Ghoul AU

Belos uses food as a main manipulation tactic for keeping Hunter "efficient and successful" on his missions. It has not been revealed where that meat comes from (if I'm not missing or forgetting anything).

I would totally believe that since petrification is admittedly rarely done if at all in the present day, Belos would feed him the meat of prisoners. Maybe he would amputate them and use those removed limbs to simultaneously feed Hunter less and still keep the meat fresh---objectively, it's being efficient with resources and punishing him for underperforming.

How fucked up would it be if (assuming that the ingredients required to create Grimwalkers are reusable and that the process is worth the time investment) Belos feeds him other Grimwalkers. What if he had tried it previously with the bodies of failed specimens? Would they have been able to tell the difference?

Sorry for the ramble, I just woke up from a nap and had a brrrrrr brain moment

Correct for the most part! The Emperor coven is already known to have secret petrifications of Wild witches so it would make sense for some of them to be executed in different ways for reasons. I don’t think he’d be bother to have limbs amputated, rather why not just kill them if he’s already fine with doing that.

Though the idea of “reformed” wild witches(aka those forced into covens) leaving the conformatorium with missing limbs and being told that’s just punishment is all sorts of dystopian. Though, I always like the idea that the most wild of witches would just “disappear” and the rest, lesser ones would be forced into covens or kept imprisoned. They all get arrested but have different fates depending on severity of their crimes.

After Hunter carvings arise, Belos has a select few witches hanged and taken to the morgue where they could be butchered by him or Hunter (a form of punishment) for food privately.

I always saw Grimwalkers being a limited product due to having very limited sources. I mean there aren’t many palistorm trees, selkidomous are rare, stonesleeper lungs where already limited at the start and might degrade over time, and the galdorstones are difficult to obtain. Realistically, I think Belos could only have a max of two grimwalkers at a time since he’s reusing parts.

Also the horror that Hunter’s body parts had been reused multiple times for past Golden Guards is too horrific to pass up. I think Belos harvests the corpses for these parts after killing them, all besides the bone since that’s too tedious for what it’s worth. So as much as he would like to make Hunter cannibalize other grimwalkers for experiments, he can’t do that unfortunately without further degrading a limited source.

(I think he would have had more sources in the past where he would have been able to do experiments on the grimwalkers until these materials eventually became unusable and he had to be more cautious on what he used his remaining materials on, much to his dismay)

So the best he could do is make Hunter eat the bones. Yes our boy eats bones, plenty of carnivorous animals do and it’s a good source of calcium. Though he can’t survive off them, thats an incredibly deficient diet. Since Hunter is actually consuming something that’s the same species as him, this is genuine cannibalism and it makes him incredibly sick.

Hunter is unaware of this of course, assuming it’s some random witch bone that tastes weirdly gross and is also a bit aged for his liking(not like he has the option to be picky)

Like I said, it makes him sick. Like he’s been poisoned sick. Through these are just bones and who’s to say that Belos doesn’t have grimwalker organs and flesh, preserved somewhere in storage. Might explore that possibility in the future.

[mortuarywriting]

So the little sandbox I've been playing in off to the side I've had a few thoughts on this and while I kinda went into it through the Ad Mech angle it's fun to think about!

And I might've gone off the shits. This has a readmore now.

So for starters your mileage may vary from any number of factors on an AU by AU basis- what's your average population skew for the dynamics, average expected behavior per secondary gender, how instinctual any given individual is, and propaganda in universe by the Imperium.

To take this from the top: the first big question there is: what designation do you think the primarchs were? I generally default down the easy path: Big E wanted them to be natural leaders, and into the cocktail of concepts they were designed to be the Biggest of Alphas- much like their auras are of leaders and teachers and the natural charisma and all that, just another layer designed for people to follow without question.

The problem with that: we know chaos fucked with these kids in varying degrees and that sliding scale means before any of them presented. Now we have the options for internal strife where instincts lean one way or another but you're *supposed* to be like *this*, etc.

Which ties back to the original question- how like the actual primarch is the Geneseed? We've got rule of cool logic thrumming through the veins of every marine, only you can answer this but personally for flavor I think matching post any initial warp fuckery tracks. Does it make sense from when the effective timestamp of the genetic template the Geneseed would be made from? No, not even a little bit, but Nostramo somehow has every city on the planet under a full eclipse at all times (weather permitting it be visible) so like. We all know Science is shelved when the vibes are cooler.

I think the Geneseed would impact a Neophyte's secondary presentation because ordinarily when a child is of an age to be recruited? They wouldn't have presented. There may have been signs that this kid is more likely to be X because of Y reasons, but they'd likely be a Neophyte before formally presenting, and by then it's anyone's guess what the fuckin hormone soup they'd be working through would settle on.

Which is where I'm gonna slide into instincts and how much of a hold they're gonna have on the average person. At a base standard for your average day to day life? You're probably not needing to listen to them on a daily basis, it's probably something quiet until you get closer to whatever cycle you're on.

Hormones and bodies and the endocrine system are nightmares to untangle if there's any fuckery, and I find it hard to believe it's black and white what designation you have. I think it's more reasonable for it to be more a sliding scale because that's how humans have worked anyways, and on one end you might have the Most Omega To Omega, Ever(TM) and the opposite is The Most Alpha To Alpha, Ever(TM). The middle is where your betas would reside- it's not that you aren't anything it's that whatever secondary hormones your body has running through you are more balanced out.

I personally break the spectrum into nine pieces of "high spectrum omega", "omega", "omega w/ beta lean", "beta w/ omega lean", "beta", "beta w/ alpha lean", "alpha w/ beta lean", "alpha", "high spectrum alpha". As an average citizen your high spectrum people might have more instincts that run closer to the surface, but suppressants can help either mitigate or fully mask.

Why did I go on that tangent? Because it's fun and goes to say it's never gonna be clear cut where someone sits and with additional hormones anything is possible.

But let's talk planets. Planet by planet you're going to have wildly different cultures and expectations and secondary gender skews. Baal probably had different cultural expectations than Nostramo which would've had different expectations than Ultramar and you get the drill. Any number of these planets could have different skews for different reasons- does Baal have greater or fewer alphas and omegas since heats and ruts are resource intensive times? Does the result of a heat/rut outweigh the drain? Does Nostramo's specific brand of population control mean any particular secondary genders have a higher chance of survival?

Terra was shaped in the eyes of the Master of Mankind and the rest of the Imperium as conquered would follow, but the biases in place would probably not go anywhere anytime soon until the propaganda machine rolled in and started spinning the narrative how they pleased.

But that doesn't mean these biases wouldn't make their way into the legions. A brother is a brother is a brother is how it's supposed to be, but a planet that thinks omegas are weak dainty things may have a bigger stigma against any brothers who present as one. Alphas are more likely to make their way into higher ranks and their omega brothers probably more specialized roles.

Contrarily, any planet where the thought is "there's a reason the omegas stay to protect the kids, because if the alphas have failed someone has to ensure the future generation is secured and you do NOT want to give an omega a reason"- those thoughts might see omegas be found more often as Lieutenants or Captains.

Fuck, the Iron Hands probably LOVE betas. Less likely to be shackled to the weak whims of the flesh and be more cemented in reasoning.

All of these are correct. None of these are correct.

People are people and the resources you give them can open as many doors as they close.

I think the conditioning would play into the strengths of a presentation- make new muscle memory to overwrite the bits that aren't "desirable" but play to the strengths. You want to do X. We'll train you out of Y. That kinda thing.

Thereoretically there's room for friction between brothers depending on the designations, but that would have to be something Neophytes have to lose before they can integrate with the legion at large because bucking against orders are very likely to get the kid killed. The degree of your designation shouldn't play a factor but some legions may be better about that than others.

I think the planets work hard but the Imperium's propaganda department works harder and a body is a body and suppressants are bad for you long term, sure, but that implies the Astra militarum lives long enough for it to be a problem. Emphasize the strengths of each designation and ship 'em out. This ain't about them, but it would eventually feed back into it.

But! The tl;dr! I think getting the presentation of your primarch is largely considered a boon- some exceptions apply. I think you're more likely to wind up with your primarch's designation if you go through the neophyte stages faster and before you naturally start presenting. I think if you let inter-designation conflict in the legion you're at perpetual risk of brothers trying to step up on their officers and that's a recipe for disaster.

Final thoughts uhhh...

I think heats and ruts among Astartes as a whole would be more muted and channeled into battlefield efficiency and if it happens while en route to a new location then you handle it however you handle it.

Smaller squads of 3-10 marines either turn into pack units or need to be switched out often enough that that doesn't happen

It's stranger to find a space wolf that can't pop a knot than ones that can- designations be damned

I have many primarch thoughts and for the sake of my notes I will not be sharing them

Yes my A/B/O spectrum can wrap back around to "omegas with alpha leans" and "alphas with omega leans". It just takes some extra fuckery.

Because nobody would ask the Ad Mech lens I was looking through is I was wondering how a princeps would work in A/B/O and the answer I came up with is probably suppress everyone on the crew within an inch of organ failure and go on with your life. I have more thoughts but, much like the militarum, this ain't about them

Thanks for reading me ramble about shit I've been chewing on for a while I think about transhuman barbies and how their genetic modifications would play

Warhammer 40k and A/B/O

PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS AND LEND ME THINE EARS.

I know we all know a/b/o, but how specifically would it factor into 40k, and especially into the Adeptus Astartes? Like, thinking about, does that affect recruitment and genemodding? Are only Alphas recruited to become Astartes? Or does the process of making a space marine reform everyone into the same thing no matter if they were an Alpha, Beta or Omega? One would assume that much like in canon, any sexual urge is psychoconditioned away and they are molded into these transhuman figures. This presumably means they wouldn't go into any sort of heat or rut, right? The Emperor did not want these guys sucking and fucking, sadly.

Or if you're gonna get down and dirty with it (taking a second to salute my fellow perverts) would certain legions only be made up of one specific secondary gender? Or would they be more diverse? Would they be a reflection of their Primarch's secondary gender? Are you more respected if you resemble your Primarch in both appearance and secondary gender?