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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

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𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, encouraging, justifying, promoting nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, violence, degradation, physical/mental abuse, kidnapping, hostage holding, self-harm, attempted murder and other yandere behavior. Read at your own discretion.

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𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟾 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟷𝟶 𝙵𝚃.

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□90%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙳𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢.

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

𝙽𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜.

𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

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He was the school's and the town's heartthrob.

From the time he was young, every girl was in love with him and every boy wanted to be him.

From the tenderest of age, old folks were praising how cute and adorable he was.

That's just how Park Seonghwa grew up, being admired and loved by everyone around him. He was so used to his little club of adoring fans.

He dated, or more like, messed around with more than a couple of girls in his classes.

Not a single one of them was immune to his charms, even if at first they said they'd never ever fall for him. They always fell like dominoes.

And then the day finally came....The day someone ignored him, the day someone didn't worship the ground he walked on.....

The day someone not only refused but humiliated him in front of others.

You had recently moved into the small town, wanting to get away from all the bustling and, in your opinion, futile life of the city.

So you moved somewhere more quiet, serene, calm.

You only wanted a nice and comfortable life, and with the small but sturdy job you accepted, it allowed you to have a comfortable living.

For a while, no one really noticed or payed the to you, and those that did were wary of you.

You couldn't blame them. A stranger suddenly moves into their town? Of course they'd be careful.

You were very observant and in that time you observed Seonghwa.

He was good looking you had to admit, but he had come into the shop with a girl by his side which suggested to you they were an item.

Meaning he was off limits so you didn't bother to think about him.

But then he came in weeks later with a different girl, which threw you off a little.

And then a different girl, then another and you saw the pattern.

You shook your head and cringed at him. "Fuck boi." You muttered every time you saw him.

It didn't take long for him to hear about the new girl in town.

Which to him meant another heart to steal and a pair of legs to open and add to his collection.

He was with his friends, who were anxious to see what would happen.

You saw him confidently stride up to you, cocky grin on his face as his eyes looked you up and down. You internally scoffed.

"Don't think you can easily play me boy." You resolved in your head to wipe that smirk off.

"Hey gorgeous. Come here often?" He winked at you.

"I work here." You responded with absolutely no emotion or expression, barely giving him a glance as you arranged the shelves in the store.

He moved so you could see him better, thinking it would cause you to melt, but you just stared straight at him as if he wasn't there.

"If you need any assistance, please ask one of the managers. I only stock the merchandise."

You had to hold back from laughing at his shocked face, probably because no girl had ever not blushed or become flustered from his close proximity.

You moved away from him to put some articles on the next aisle.

Not giving up, Seonghwa followed after you, his friends trailing close behind you.

He tapped your shoulder to get your attention again.

For the first time in his life, a girl glared at him as if he was no more than a bug....

That was strike one for him.

"Listen...... I.......just wanted to get your number?" He couldn't believe that he was actually sweating nervously.

"Sorry. I don't give my number to strangers." You stated.

Seeing an opportunity, Seonghwa smiled flirtatiously at you.

"Well then maybe I should take you out. Then we won't be strangers. Maybe we could even get...really close." He licked his lips.

His face froze when he saw you roll your eyes at him.

That was strike two.

"Thank you but no. And if you'll excuse me."

You moved to leave him there again, but his hand reached out and gripped your wrist, a little too rough for your liking.

"Come on darling...no one's ever said no to me."

Yanking your hand away, you looked at him with disgust as you told him:

"I believe I just did."

Those words and the snorts and giggles from his friends behind him were strike three for him.

In that moment something snapped in him.

How dare someone like you reject him? The Park Seonghwa.

He was so stunned by your actions that he couldn't get you out of his mind from then on.

He no longer looked at any other girls.

His thoughts were fixated on you and only you.

He had to win you over, he just had to.

You were the ultimate challenge and he was going to make sure he was victorious.

But you made it so damn difficult.

Every. Single. Time.

You never hid how much he annoyed you and that pissed him off so much.

Days turned to a month, then 3 and still you kept refusing him.

The final straw for him was when he tried gifting you a rather expensive necklace that would have anyone else swooning.

Not batting a wink, you threw the case back to him.

"I'm not some whore you can buy for the night just cause you feel like it. Go find someone else to be your toy, fuckboi."

He gripped the case so harshly it actually bent, eyes staring daggers at you as you walked home.

"You're not getting away so easily. You're going to regret this."

You were surprised when you didn't see Seonghwa the next day..

Or for an entire week.

But you shrugged it off, perhaps he had finally learned his lesson and opted for leaving you alone.

Walking home, you couldn't help but feel like something eerie was going to happen.

You tried ignoring it by plugging in your headphones and just head home as soon as possible. It was dark and cold.

You weren't paying attention to your surroundings so you didn't see nor hear the car that was heading straight to you.

You only felt something knock you to the ground, immediately passing out from your head hitting the pavement.

The driver got out of the vehicle, his dark orbs staring down at your unconscious figure.

Bending down, he tilted your chin to look at your bloody face.

"I told you would regret this."

You woke up sore and with a pounding headache days later.

But more than anything, you woke up frightened when you saw you were chained down on a chair, wrists bound on the arm rests and feet tied to the legs.

Who the hell would kidnap you?

Your answer came in the form of Seonghwa himself, coming into the dimly lit basement where he held you.

He smirked as he saw you swallow harshly when he came close to you, face bending down at eye level to you.

"You can get out of this whole mess you know...."

Cupping your chin, he brought his lips dangerously close to yours.

"Just give in to me and agree to be mine."

You swore this had to be a joke. He'd go through all this trouble just for this shit?

Unable to stand his close proximity, you opted for showing your contempt for him by spitting on his face........something he did not take kindly to.

He looked at you as if you committed a heinous crime. And he wasn't going to let you get away with it.

Lifting your face up, he slapped you several times across the face, not satisfied until your nose was bleeding and your cheeks were stinging so badly, there was going to be bruising for sure.

You cried out when he harshly gripped your burning cheeks, adding even more pain.

"Sooner or later, you'll have to give in. The more you resist, the worse it'll get."

He left you there for 3 days, or a week. You honestly couldn't remember, you were going in and out of consciousness for a while.

When he finally let you out, you thought he'd be a little more nicer to you, but you were wrong.

Things only got worse.

You were being treated worse than an animal.

You couldn't walk anywhere, you had to crawl. You weren't allowed to use utensils for food, nor your hands.

The first time you tried to refuse to these rules, Seonghwa shoved you to the floor and dragged you by the hair across the hallway.

And as for food, he smashed your face into the bowl, you were surprised it didn't break from how hard he did it.

You could never look him in the eye or else you'd get struck across the cheek.

"Never look your betters in the eye. You should be grateful I even spare a glance at such a lowlife like you."

He lived, no...he thrived out of humiliating you.

It was sickening to know that such an individual could hate someone so much to go out of their way to try and dominate them to such an extent.

The times he was actually being 'nice' to you, his voice was filled with mock pity, talking to you as if you were his little pet.

It was those times where you truly couldn't hold back and glared at him.

And it always end with you back in the basement, stripped naked, and left there for days in the cold, body bleeding and sore from the canning he gave you.

And everytime he came back, he'd always say the same thing:

"You could end all of this if only you'd love me."

More than once you thought about giving in, even if just pretending.

He couldn't possibly treat you any worse than he did now.

But your inner strength, independence and repulsion from him kept you from giving in.

You'd rather die than ever let Park Seonghwa win and give him that. satisfaction.

But the day you found out you were pregnant with his kid, you knew you had to get out of there.

You were not going to allow a child to be raised by a monster.

You never told him anything, he couldn't know. You even resorted to cutting yourself so he'd believe you were still menstruating.

And for months you played it nice, obeyed him so he wouldn't cause you harm or to the baby.

He actually began to soften up, thinking he had finally broken you into the perfect lover he imagined.

"Fucking idiot."

That was the exact thing you thought when you finally allowed him to kiss you, instead of the forced ones he'd usually give you.

Taking advantage that his guard was down, you pulled out the knife you had hidden and didn't hesitate to plunge it on his side.

He pulled back in shock, but had no time to react because you just took out the knife and plunged it back in...

Over and over again until he layed unconscious on the floor.

Blood was everywhere and you honestly couldn't believe you did that.

Choking back the tears, you scrambled to find anything that could help you break the lock, which you eventually found.

You ran out of that place, never looking back.

You didn't run into the direction of the town, people would be too suspicious.

You ran towards the direction of the highway, hoping someone would find you and take you to the nearest hospital or police station.

It seemed luck was on your side as a woman immediately stopped when she saw you running.

She didn't hesitate to help you out, taking you to a hospital so you could get checked up.

You lied and simply said you had been kidnapped and managed to escape, feigning that you don't remember who your kidnapper was.

The police bought your story and more so dropped the interrogation when you said you didn't want to press charges and just wanted to lay low for a while.

You moved all the way across the country, far far away from the place of hell you were in.

You quickly got a job and a small, but comfortable home to raise your newborn daughter in.

She was such a cute and beautiful baby, looking like an exact replica of her father which somewhat haunted you but you pushed those thoughts aside.

Time had passed, you were safe, she was safe and almost a year old, and you'd never have to worry about that insane man ever again.........

So you believed.

Unaware of the piercing eyes that were looking through your opened window, staring at you as you fed yours and his baby.

"You'll love me in the end....."

400 notes · View notes

heavenunderthemoon · 4 years

Note

Can we get JJ and daughter reader where the reader bio father comes back

ROOM 286

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse, blood, death, abandonment.

This piece is extremely angsty, I didn't even mean for it to happen it just kinda came to me while writing last night, enjoy:)

Sanitizer.

It smelled of sanitizer and something else. Something heavy, pulling you down, the scent dragging against the floor as you walked along with it, sneakers hitting the freshly waxed floor with a squeak. What was that smell?

It could have been anything, walking among the halls of that hospital, a hospital you had never been to, a hospital far away from your home, from Quantico.

Blood, maybe. Blood leaving someone else's body, a severe injury or just a small wound. Or blood entering someone else's body. A transfusion, a hope to save someone's life, a wish to stay alive for just a while longer. Blood, scarlet and distinct, heavy and substantial, entering or leaving.

Or death. Perhaps the heaviness was the mere proximity of death that hospitals seemed to have. Hospitals were like a precipice, a border between the living and the dead. Some who entered simply never left, and those who didn't were walking behind you, mirroring your footsteps, following your direction. It was the darkness of death, the souls of those that were lost covering the hospital like a shroud. The weight of those souls, the anger, dread, and our sadness that filled them weighed them down, pulling the hospital with it.

You had never liked hospitals.

"This is his room."

Your mother's voice was taut, laced with pain and something else. Bitterness, maybe? You snuck a glance toward her. She was still dressed in her work clothes, having practically sprinted off the jet to grab you from the house. Her gun was holstered, resting on her hip directly next to her badge that clipped to her belt loop. It gleamed under the fluorescent lights of the hospital, and you looked away, back to your mother's face.

She was crying, albeit small. Tears pooled in her eyes, the bright blue you had stared into for your entire life. Her teeth were sinking into her bottom lip, tiny sniffles escaping every so often, as if attempting to console herself as to not let you hear it. She never liked you to see her cry, not even after those stupid, cheesy romance movies that the two of you rented out every Valentine's Day. The woman was still operating under that archaic belief that once you turned an adult, once you became a parent, your emotions were supposed to simply leave you, become secondary to your child. You wished she wasn't. You wished you could take her hand and let her know she could cry but the entire situation at the moment, the real-life fever dream had you incredibly uncertain of how to handle anything that came next. Your hands clenched in your jacket pockets, glancing back to the room before you.

Room 286.

"Your father is dying, Y/N."

A glance back to Will in the kitchen had made you furrow your brows. The LaMontagne man was whistling as he cooked, fingers clenched around a wooden spoon being used to stir the noodles in the pot. Will was an excellent chef, and you had just gotten your report card back for the first semester- straight A's (and one B, but it was math, and both Will and your mother knew how much you absolutely loathed the subject, and so they took that as a win). The dinner was celebratory in a way, nothing too fancy you didn't like all the fuss, nor did you want to have to make your mother miss a nice dinner in a restaurant that passed out free breadsticks before a meal (she would argue that any restaurant that did so was, automatically her favorite, no matter if the bread was crappy and stale). And so, pasta at home it was, and you had even negotiated Will's famous peanut-butter cookies for dessert. Henry sat on the counter beside him, giggling at his father's horrible dance moves. They were off-beat, choppy, and out-dated, but it made both Henry and you laugh uncontrollably when he did them, and so he continued.

The sun was just setting and your mother was on a case. She liked to call before bedtime when she was away, enough time to coax Henry into a sleepy stupor, to tell him goodnight, and to let you know how much longer she would be gone. You would tell her about your day, and she hers. The two of you would talk for forty-five minutes if she had time, ten if she didn't. But the sound of your phone ringing at dinnertime hadn't made you think anything was wrong. Perhaps she was calling early, or maybe she just wanted to hear your voice. That happened sometimes too, when the cases were especially heinous.

"What?" You asked confusedly. Will was looking at you with a raised brow, mouthing a 'You okay?', to which you didn't quite have an answer for. Instead, you shrugged, holding up a finger as a signal to give you a minute, before you were exiting the room. The playroom was a mess, Henry rarely ever picked up his toys. You sidestepped two matchbox cars before you stepped on a lego, hissing at the pain and walking over it irritatedly. For as small as he was, he sure could create a mess.

A pregnant pause.

"It's Christopher." Another pause. You were starting to hate those. "Your birthfather... He's dying."

Your breath seemed to have been stolen, and the last of your air hitched in your throat, eyes becoming unfocused. How were you supposed to react to this? You weren't entirely sure. your birth father, a man you didn't know, a stranger, really. You didn't know anything about him.

Horrible thoughts began to flood your mind.

You didn't know what he looked like. You inherited a lot of traits- too many traits, honestly- from your mother, so you had never thought to ask. You were a bit taller than your mother...was that him? Was that his genetics coming into play? What color eyes did he have? What did his smile look like? You didn't know small things either. How did he like his eggs cooked? What method of shoe-tying did he prefer (bunny loops or round-a-bouts)? Dogs or cats? Movies or books? Did he watch T.V. with the captions on or off? You didn't know his favorite book genre, or band, or what foods he didn't like. You didn't know any of these things about him, about your father.

You knew these things about Will, of course. Because when you thought of 'father', Will was the first thing that came to mind. It had been that way for a while, so perhaps the fulfillment of the 'father' role in your brain was obscuring your mind, but you were wracking your brain to remember the last time you had thought of your brith father. But, then again, maybe you shouldn't have, because now, flashing before your mind were not saccharine , wholesome stories, but memories of empty chairs in audiences, uncelebrated Father's days, and 'Father-daughter' dances with Derek, or Reid, or Hotch. Sour thoughts and memories of an absentee father who left your mother in the lurch, abandoned her in her time of need, was that bad to think of he was dying? Were you supposed to be nice now? You weren't sure the rules of this arrangement.

"What?" It was weak and strangled, as if someone had clutched your throat right then and there and squeezed.

"He's at Saint Mercer's. It looks like an overdose, he had a stroke. It was too much for his body, and the doctors declared him brain dead. I was his emergency contact, and..." Your mother was speaking, rambling from the tone of her voice. She was in shock, surely, and you were only half-listening.

An overdose.

You wondered what you'd find on the other side of the door.

"Are you ready?"

Your mother was speaking, but she didn't sound like she was...there. You were sure she wasn't. No, she hadn't been there ever since she had gotten you, taken you to that airport, boarded you on the first flight out, planted you both in front of room 286 in Saint Mercer's Hospital. Her eyes were glazed over, as if replaying every single moment with the man she had once known , the man she had created another child, her first child, with. A man she hadn't seen for entirely too long, and a man she hadn't ever expected to see again. A man she wouldn't even recognize, surely, because he wasn't a man when he left. You weren't sure if he had ever become a man. To your mother, he had been a boy, just a boy and a girl, in childish love, until they weren't.

"Are you?" You countered, eyes glued onto the wooden door separating you and a man you should know, but had no relation to.

For the fist time that night, she smiled.

She smiled because despite it being the most unfair situation in the world- a situation in which she was placed as an emergency contact for a man who intentionally left her when she was pregnant with his child (placed as an emergency contact in hopes to either advocate for them to try harder to save his life, or to let him go if need be, which, ironically, he had abandoned her completely without regards to treat her reciprocally)- you were there. You, her shining hope, a silver lining in the entirety of it all. You were the one thing that made her not regret a single decision she had made with the man, made her not regret meeting him in the first place, because she had gotten you. Your hair was shoved into a baseball cap, Will's, she recognized. It usually hung on the coat rack by the door, the man tugging it on whenever he went to the store or to pick Henry up from school. It was sun-damaged, tearing at the lip, but he refused to buy a new one because 'that just means it was well-loved, JJ.'. And now it sat on your head, a hat that belonged to a man you had met six years ago, a man you called Dad, willingly and without any input from her. You, a girl who had gone without a father for so long. Years of Father's Day cards, heart-wrenchingly sweet cards made out to Reid, or Derek, or Hotch because they volunteered to take you to your dances, even if she had offered to go, because you said you didn't think it would be allowed for her to crash it. Cards made out to her, thanking her for being both the mom and the dad (those tended to make her cry a lot). Years of ballet recitals, soccer games, spelling bees, silly school graduations, all of which she happily attended, but attended alone. All the nights of fevers and stomach aches and sniffles and dry throats. All the diaper changes and reverse cycling. All the scraped knees, busted elbows, trips to the ER. And now you were here, in front of the man who had abandoned you before you had even let out your horridly beautiful wail. JJ felt so many emotions at once, swelling within her that she reached out, grabbing your hand.

You weren't sure if it was to comfort you or herself, but you took it, entering the room as she opened it.

Machines.

Lots and lots of machines.

They stood at attention by his bedside, beeping and humming so loudly you weren't sure your thoughts would be able to tear their way through your mind anymore. Perhaps stat was a good thing.

There he was, lying in the bed before you. A standard hospital blanket was draped across his lower half. It was cream and thin, you recalled your days spent in a hospital not too long ago, how much you had hated it then. Those blankets were always itchy and uncomfortable, and you had all but forced Penelope to bring you one from home, to which she happily obliged, toting an assortment of stuffed animals as well (you argued you were too old for them, to which she had responded that no one was too old for comfort brought about by a stuffed animal.). His hands were resting limply at his sides, and you forced your eyes to skip over his arms, the damage an indicator of the activities he had chosen over taking care of you for the past decade.

When you reached his face you tilted your head. His face was sullen, cheeks sunken in, lips dried and caked in dead-skin. A redness spread about his face, a sunburn, perhaps, but you weren't sure. His hair, brittle and receding, was brown and you wondered of you had gotten anything from the man. A small part of you hoped you didn't. Looking at him now, you weren't sure if you wanted to. A sudden thought popped into your mind and you turned to your mother, who seemed to try to be looking anywhere but the man before her.

"What color were his eyes?"

They were shut now, and he almost looked...peaceful.

JJ lips parted, eyes coming to meet yours. "Brown." She said softly. Her hand was still in yours and you didn't make a move to drop it.

You nodded, glancing back to him. Something was missing, you gazed around the small hospital room to find what it was before it came to you. "Where is everyone? His family, or friends? Do they know he's here?" You looked back to the man, eyes following the rise and fall of his chest created by the ventilators attached to him.

The blonde stiffened, looking at her shoes. "They do. They won't come." With a clear of her throat, she was glancing back to you, your face softening as your teeth took your lip in their hold.

He was alone.

Was that by choice? Or had he run away from them like he had run away from you and your mother?

The doctor entered the rom, signaling for your mother to speak with her, and she left with a squeeze of your hand, leaving you with...him.

What were you to call him? Christopher? Dad?

Alone.

He was alone. His parents weren't coming to see him, he didn't have any friends. No loved ones to hold his hand in his time of need, to tell him it was going to be okay, to tell him that he was safe, and loved, and would be remembered. Regardless of his past actions, you felt...awful. Looking at him, you couldn't feel anything other than immense sympathy, because he had pushed away everyone and everything in his life, and he was left with nothing. You pondered his appearance, wondering what he must have looked like back when he had met your mother, what had drawn her in to him, made her love him and want him and that thought train had you reaching for his hand. Your mother didn't love without reason. She was logical, and fair-minded, and welcoming, and you knew that if she had loved a man, the man before you, it must've been for a good reason. And so, you couldn't judge him based on what was before you, because that was a result of all of his bad choices, all of his digressions and, yes, they were horrible, but they had also allowed your mother to meet Will. It allowed them to have Henry, it allowed you to have a family, a perfect family, and now all you felt was sympathy. No anger. No pain. Just sadness.

His hand was warm, surprisingly. What would it have been like to grow up with his hand, one to put in yours when you crossed the street, to feel your forehead when you said you felt sick, to help tie your shoes when you were still learning?

The beeps of the machines sang louder as you stepped closer.

"Nice to meet you." You said softly, closing your eyes for just a moment. Just enough time for you to feel the weight of his hand in yours, to reassure yourself that this was real, that you were there, before you were opening them again.

When you did, your mother was back in the room.

Your mother's heart almost broke when she entered. The doctor needed her signature, needed a confirmation that they could remove life support, and her shaky hand had signed beside the 'x' with tear-filled eyes. And when she returned back to that godforsaken room, a room in which she felt all the air was removed, a room in which she felt suffocated, she saw you. Your hand in his, an image she had imagined in her head over and over and over again when you were growing up, a pipe dream, really. A dream in which he suddenly got his act together, came back to find the both of you, declared his love for her, and begged for forgiveness for leaving. It was a dream that she wasn't even sure she wanted to happen so much as wondered if it would. Because you two didn't need him, she would attest that you two didn't need anyone, not really. Not before Will and Henry. You two were strong and independent. Jareau women were fighters. But still, she had thought about Christopher, and now that dream was shattered because instead of him holding flowers, he was hooked up to a life support machine, brain dead and unresponsive.

She wanted to yell. She wanted to yell and laugh and cry because this wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. She wanted to stomp her feet and throw herself to the floor like a toddler throwing a tantrum but it just...wasn't fair. She couldn't yell at him because he couldn't respond. She couldn't yell at him, because he was practically already dead, and he had left the decision for someone to give him the final blow to her. Her, a woman he had neglected, and your hand was in his, and everything was wrong.

Her feet took her to you, despite every cell in her body attempting to make her turn around.

"They're gonna unplug him, right?" She had told you on the way there that it was a strong possibility, depending on his state. But saying it aloud made it feel much more real. It shouldn't feel so absurd, you scolded. He was never in your life anyway, it wouldn't particularly make a difference. But, in some strange, bizarre way, it did It made a difference because now, Christopher wasn't just some man who abandoned you, he was a dead man who abandoned you.

"Yes." Her voice was small, and you latched onto her once more.

"He's all alone." You said with a frown, and she removed her hand from yours, instead, choosing to drape her arm across your shoulder and bring you into her embrace. Doctors were beginning to enter the room, beginning to explain what each machine did, the consequences of unplugging it, and then doing so quietly, though neither of you were listening.

"He is." She nodded, blonde hair rubbing against the side of your face.

You both stood silent for a moment watching the doctors continue.

"Tell me about him. When you loved him."

JJ sucked in a breath. She had only thought about the bad for so long, only thought about the moment his hand was no longer hers, his retreating figure as she clutched that pregnancy test in her hand, that panic in her chest as she realized she would have to do this alone. "He transferred to my high school in my sophomore year. Everybody went nuts. We didn't get new people in town...ever. But there he was. His hair was a mess," She glanced toward you, a soft smile replacing the frown she had been wearing. "Kinda like yours when you wake up."

"Hey." You mumbled into her shoulder, but you laughed all the same.

"We had a few classes together and he never let me forget it. Chris bugged me almost every minute of them, passing me notes, trying to talk to me, asking me out. I swore I wouldn't, I was too focused on soccer. But, he wore me down."

You rose a brow. "Wore you down? I didn't think that was possible."

She chuckled, the vibrations from it were felt on your cheek. "It wasn't before him. He was...different. He was a total music snob, spent almost all his money on the latest releases. He liked to take me swimming, said everything, all the bad things and all the troubles just floated away when you were in the water."

You looked back to the man in the bed, the doctors having turned off all the machines by now. Now, it was just a waiting game.

"That sounds silly." You whispered.

"It was. But, then again, so was he. He was carefree, spirited, and laid back. He hated the thought of having to grow up one day, said that being an adult was a life sentence to nowhere. Your grandparents hated him, but I didn't care. He was my first love."

You took in all the information, watching the ragged rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his wheezing making you cringe. "Would he have been good dad, you think?"

JJ thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. He chose to run. But I don't think he was suited for being a dad. I think he wouldn't have liked the responsibility of it all." She said thoughtfully, squeezing your shoulder before she was placing her head atop yours. "I know, without a doubt, that he would have loved you, though."

A snort escaped your lips. "Really?" You asked doubtfully.

"Oh, for sure. I think that if he had met you, he would have tried his best to be there, to be there for you. You both do that thing when you get mad, where you nose twitches like a little bunny and it's so cute that no one can ever stay mad at you. Or when you're tired, your eyes droop down and you can sleep instantly, no matter where you are. You both like rock music, and comedy movies, and blankets when they're fresh out of the dryer-"

"I don't think anyone can hate blankets when they're fresh out of the dryer."

She chuckled. "And you both hate peas. I swear, I tried to feed them to you when you were little and you actually scoffed at me. A seventh month old baby, scoffing at me."

"Hmm, wonder where I learned that from."

JJ rolled her eyes. "And you both have a big heart. Sometimes, his heart was so big, that he didn't quite know what to with it. You're better with following it, but you both have it. Just, too much love to give, and he never knew where to place it."

Silence settled over the two of you once more, the wheezing become quieter.

It was just you and her. You and her and the man in the bed. Her arms around you, chin atop your head as you lay in the crook of her neck.

"Are you sad?" you asked softly.

She took three breaths before she answered. "Yes."

You looked back at Christopher, imagining a relationship, one that included movie nights and car rides filled with shared music interests and dinners that revolved around your hatred of snow peas. But the image was foreign and fleeting, and all you could see was Will in your kitchen, producing horrible dance moves and whistled melodies. You could only see Henry shaking you awake. Reality reminded you of the life you actually lived, one without a Dad for a small amount of time, and then finding one. A life without Christopher. Your life and his. Ones that should have been lived together, but never were.

"Me too."

And the wheezing ceased.

Well damn. ANYWAYS, I’m so happy people are liking my JJxdaughter!reader content. It’s so strange because I really thought it wouldn't get much attention so that’s a fun surprise. Let me know what you think about this piece!

#Jennifer Jareau x daughter! reader #jennifer jareau x reader #Jennifer Jareau #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

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thedarkreborn · 3 years

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WIP Whenever

(I was tagged by @darthsassacre but I’m not doing nano because I work retail, so here instead have a snippet of this What If Padme Was A Jedi Too? Prequel Trilogy rewrite that I started a billion years ago and will absolutely never ever finish enough to properly post but I still think about sometimes because it’s neat, okay? And makes a lot of the wibbly-continuity things of the PT mesh better with the OT and...anyway, this is near the end.)

Bail struggled forward, coughing from the acrid smoke. He wiped his eyes clear of the blood seeping from a cut on his forehead, but they immediately watered. His ears were still ringing from the crash, but over the crackling flames he thought he heard a baby’s anguished wail. He forced his way forward, shoving debris out of his way, until he saw a slim booted foot.

“Padmé!” he shouted, grabbing the sheet of metal and heaving it away from the young Jedi. She was curled up around her infant daughter, pressing the wailing child to her chest. Tears ran down Padmé’s face, and somehow Bail knew that they weren’t from the smoke. “Master Naberrie?” he asked tentatively.

She looked up at him and her brown eyes were dead. “I cut us off from the Force,” she whispered, clutching Leia as if the child was her only anchor to the world.

Bail recoiled in shock. He had heard rumors that the Jedi could sever another’s Force-connection; it was, by all accounts, a heinous punishment reserved for only the most evil crimes and, until now, Bail had scoffed at the rumors. Padmé was still speaking, although her voice did not sound like her own and Bail could barely hear the words over his own shock.

“I severed us to make…to make Anakin think we had died. The…the shock of—of blocking us off from the Force will feel enough like death that…that he will be fooled.”

“Is it permanent?” Bail blurted, staring at her goggle-eyed.

Padmé looked away and it was a moment before she answered. “My daughter will grow out of it,” she said softly.

“And you?” Bail asked her in a quiet voice as he helped the young woman to her feet. The baby’s wails had trailed off into little hiccoughing sobs. Bail didn’t need to see Padmé shake her head to know the answer; the heartbroken emptiness on her face was evidence enough.

He put an arm around the once-Jedi. Padmé had always been short for a human, but suddenly she looked both small and fragile. Her war-honed muscles trembled so that she felt like she might break beneath his touch if he pressed too hard. “Come,” Bail said gently as he helped her pick her way gingerly through the wreckage, “we need to get out of here. We’ll look up some people that owe me a favor; they can smuggle the two of you into Alderaan, we can hide you from…him, there.”

Padmé stopped, looking back the other way. “But my son—”

“Obi-Wan has him now.” Padmé still did not move. “It is safer for all of you now if you are not together,” Bail said as gently as he could, although he could feel his own heart breaking for the little family and he knew that Padmé’s anguish had to be a million times his own. He tugged at the former Jedi and this time she came along, although she barely seemed to know that she was moving. “Come, Mast—come, Padmé; Master Kenobi will be able to keep Luke safe easier if he is not worried for the rest of us.”

Padmé nodded mutely and clutched little Leia tighter.

# # #

Obi-Wan stared at the burning wreckage, unable to move. He heard baby Luke wailing but could not budge. Padmé and her daughter, Leia—just gone, their suddenly empty presence reverberating through the Force like a wound. Then the Force trembled; it felt like someone had thrown a stone into a calm lake. The ripples spread thrumming through Obi-Wan’s senses and the Jedi shivered. Vader was coming.

Kenobi passed a hand across Luke’s brow and the child’s wailing ended with a gurgle and a yawn as the baby dropped into sleep. Obi-Wan drew what cloaking he could across the boy, trying to hide his presence in the Force; he was not as good at it as Qui-Gon had been, and certainly he was not the master at it that Tholme was, but he was in a hurry and maybe if the Force was with him and he could distract his former student quickly, it would be enough.

(I don’t know what the state of anyone’s posting or writing is right now, so if you haven’t been tagged yet and have story bits you would like to share please consider me your tagger! And tag me so I know to read it please. Beyond that I’m going to try and at least hit a few people so @derinthescarletpescatarian @storytellingdreamer @hamsolo @keldorfriend @saliesxn

#wip whenever #star wars fanfiction #star wars prequels #padme naberrie #bail organa #other fic #star wars au

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

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Slashers / Horror Villains as: Animated (Children’s) Movie Villain Songs

+ A Nightmare Before Christmas

First of all, its mostly Disney. Second of all, I hope you know that this was a struggle for me.

Also, note, Bubba will be the only Leatherface in this post and Billy and Stu will be the only Ghostfaces. There is Norma Bates though, so sort of a consolation.

There are links to videos on YouTube ^^

~~~

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher / Ghostface: Playing With the Big Boy’s Now (Hotep and Huy, Prince of Egypt)

Well... they’re part of the ‘big boys’, now! They are part of the Slashers group that, uh, ‘inspired them’. Imagine instead of Egyptian Gods, they’re chanting Slasher names.

[HUY] Pick up your silly twig, boy [HOTEP & HUY] You're playing with the big boys now! Ha ha ha ha!

[EGYPTIAN PRIESTS] By the power of Ra Mut, Nut, Khnum, Ptah Sobek, Sekhmet, Sokar, Selket Anubis, Anukis Hemsut, Tefnut, Meshkent, Mafdet...

Chop Top and Nubbins + Bubba Sawyer / Leatherface: Kidnap Mr Sandy Claws (Lock, Shock and Barrel, Nightmare Before Christmas)

I mean... they aren't Drayton’s minions, but they are like this XD

I say that we take a cannon, aim it at his door And then knock three times And when he answers Sandy Claws will be no more

Yes you're so stupid, think now If we blow him up to smithereens We may lose some pieces And then Jack will beat us black and green

Kidnap the Sandy Claws Tie him in a bag

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray: In The Dark Of The Night (Rasputin, Anastasia)

Mystical man? Check! ‘Betrayal’ (As far as he sees it)? Check. Made them pay? Check; I think Nica, Sarah and all the other families he destroys throughout the franchise can attest to that. And ‘One little girl got away’? Well Andy isn’t a girl, but yeah. Check.

I was once the most mystical man in all Russia When the royals betrayed me they mad a mistake My curse made each of them pay But one little girl got away Little Anya, beware Rasputin's awake

Drayton Sawyer: Don’t Fall In Love (Forte, Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas)

Its such a crochety, unessessarily rude way of describing relationships to someone! I mean, I understand completely and resonate deeply with the desire to be alone and not be responsible for anyone else, but- come on! Beast doesn't share your view! Let it go!

Its just like Drayton’s reaction to Bubba having a crush. Super cool video too!

As soon as your heart rules your head Your life is not your own It's hell when someone's always there It's bliss to be alone

And love of any kind is bad A dog, a child, a cat They take up so much precious time Now, where's the sense in that?

Freddy Krueger: No More Mr Nice Guy (Rothbart, Swan Princess)

A man with an uncomfortable relationship with the main female character pretending to be normal and not homicidal for a while before unlocking more power and letting there inner bad guy loose and taking great pleasure in it? Sounds familiar. They also have a similar vocabulary- except of course Rothbart is rated G.

I'll become that nasty, naughty, dirty, spiteful Wicked, wayward, way-delightful Bad guy I was born to be

Lyin' loathesome, never-tender Indiscreet repeat offender No more Mr Nice Guy That's not me

Inkubus: The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind (Professor Rattigan, The Greatest Mouse Detective)

‘Inkubus’ is literally a movie about him listing all his crimes over the centuries and messing with the police force because he has a bone to pick with a detective. Sounds pretty similar to me! Listen to the song! ^^

Now comes the real tour de force Tricky and wicked, of course! My earlier crimes were fine for their times But now that I'm at it again An even grimmer plot has been simmering In my great criminal brain!

Jason Voorhees: Despicable Me (About Gru, Despicable Me)

I... this is all I could think of!! But the more I listen to it and read the lyrics... it f i t s Jason so well! XD Please just let this slide; I know Gru isn't really a villain but he is at the start!! Let me have this.

Why ask why? Better yet "Why not?" Why are you marking x on that spot? Why use a blow torch isn't that hot? Why use a chainsaw? Is that all you got? Why do you like seeing people in shock? But my question to you is "Why not?" Why go to the bank and stand in line Just use a freeze gun it saves me time. I'm havin' a bad, bad day It's about time that I get my way Steam rollin' whatever I see, Huh, despicable me I'm havin' a bad, bad day If you take it personal that's okay Watch, this is so fun to see Huh, despicable me

Jennifer Check: Trust In Me (Kaa, The Jungle Book)

She’s a succubus demon. Tempting boys into a safe-feeling, docile state so she she can strike is her thing.

Will cease to resist Just relax Be at rest Like a bird In a nest

Trust in me Just in me Shut your eyes And trust in me

Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone: Savages (Governor Ratcliffe and the Colonizer’s parts, Pocahontas)

Obviously, because of the (Inaccurate) historical relevance of both movies (Different time’s, same terrible prejudice,) and also because there is definitely a very cult-ish feel about both Governor Ratcliffe’s song and Buckman’s leadership. How easily they’re able to gather support from their people for the most horrible reasons. How horrifying it is to audiences and historians.

They're only good when dead They're vermin, as I said And worse

They're savages! Savages!

Barely even human

Savages! Savages!

Drive them from our shore! They're not like you and me Which means they must be evil We must sound the drums of war!

Michael Myers: The Gospel Truth II (Muses about Hades, Hercules)

In a Disney movie, Michael would have others sing his song about him as he goes about his silent, determined walking XD

If there's one God you don't want to get steamed up It's Hades 'Cause he had an evil plan He ran the underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth He was as mean as he was ruthless And that's the gospel truth He had a plan to shake things up And that's the gospel truth

Midnight Man: Oogie Boogie’s Song (Oogie Boogie, Nightmare Before Christmas)

A song about a “Gamblin’ Boogie Man” is perfect for the Midnight Man! He and Oogie could be pals.

Woah! The sound of rollin' dice To me is music in the air 'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man Although I don't play fair It's much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy Now that'd be just fine

Norma Bates: Mother Knows Best Reprise (Mother Gothel, Tangled)

Norma is soooooo so so so unbelievably manipulative towards Norman (And Dylan. It just works better on Norman) and this song absolutely presents that. She can go from sweet, loving mother to spiteful, heinous bitch in two seconds if Norman or Dylan don't do what or react the way she wants them to.

Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that's demented

This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you've invented, Just proves you're too naive to be here Why would he like you? Come on now, really! Look at you, you think that he's impressed? Don't be a dummy Come with mummy

Pamela Voorhees: My Lullaby (Zira, The Lion King 2)

In a opposite approach to a villainous mother to Norma, we have Pam, who was heartbroken by the camp councillors letting her son die and vowed to get revenge. She didn't know she was teaching Jason to be the Crystal Lake killer like Zira did, but she did, and the whole song does have her kind of feel to it also.

Sleep, my little Kovu Let your dreams take wing One day when you're big and strong You will be a kingI've been exiled, persecuted Left alone with no defense When I think of what that brute did I get a little tense But I dream a dream so pretty That I don't feel so depressed 'Cause it soothes my inner kitty And it helps me get some rest

Patrick Bateman: Cruella De Vil (Arthur, 101 Dalmations)

Never before was there a song that described audiences reaction to watching Patrick living in his daily life and hearing his thoughts better then this one.

Cruella De Vil Cruella De Vil If she doesn't scare you No evil thing will To see her is to Take a sudden chill Cruella, Cruella De Vil

The curl of her lips The ice in her stare All innocent children Had better beware She's like a spider waiting For the kill Look out for Cruella De Vil

Pennywise (Both): You’re Only Second Rate (Jafar, Return of Jafar)

Mostly for the video and Jafar’s energy in this scene actually XD So many transformations, so many tasteless puns! I was going to give this to Freddy but its the closest thing to Penny I could think of.

Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size I'll make a great escape It's just a piece of cake You're only second rate You know your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough And your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up Let me pontificate upon your sorry state You're only second rate

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: Hellfire (Judge Claude Frollo, Hunchback of Notre Dame)

A nasty filthy man who think’s he’s in the right despite being the biggest creep and monster ever? Mhm.

*Note: I honestly didn't notice the deformed baby, Quasimodo/Thomas link until the day after I wrote this. Don't know how I feel about it. I mean, Hoyt is actually nice, in his way, to Thomas so the connection isn't totally there but onwards:

Beata Maria You know I am a righteous man Of my virtue I am justly proud

Beata Maria You know I'm so much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd

End of Post! 🌼

(Bonus’ under the cut)

I did think of other connections which I obviously didnt landed on but still have merit! Here!

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher: ‘Gaston’ was considered, but that would have just been a joke XD I don’t think Stu is quite as obsessed with Billy as LeFou is with Gaston.

Chucky: Friends on the Other Side. Obviously! That link was actually what inspired me to make this post. In The Dark of Night fits to a T though.

Freddy Krueger: You’re Only Second Rate! Ah, its perfectttt. But No More Mr Nice Guy fits better. If I ever do a Slashers as Disney Villains post, he’ll be Jafar for sure. Or Hades. Or Scar. Or Oogie. Probably Hades. You know what? Without the gore and blood and explicit sexual references, Freddy could be a Disney Villain himself. Its not like Disney hasn't towed the line before with perverted villains. >_> (Jafar and Frollo)

Jason and Pamela Voorhees: Mother Knows Best! Of course.

Jennifer Check: Love is For Peasants (Barbie Island Princess) Because Jennifer thinks like this:

Men? <<< Literally anything else.

Patrick Bateman: How Can I Refuse? (From Barbie Princess and the Pauper) XD If Patrick were a kids movie villain, he would totally join the ranks of corrupted usurpers pretending to be trustworthy royal advisory staff. Also ‘Let It Die’, that little interruption part of another song that O’Hare sings in the Lorax and ‘How Bad Can I be?’.

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newtonsheffield · 4 years

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Hello, beautiful!! It's been only a few weeks (a month I'd say) and I can officially say I've got hooked to the Bridgerton and Sons 'verse and its headcanons and it's WONDERFUL. I love it so, so much, and your writing in general! Please, continue doing it -as much as you feel comfortable- because your stories makes other people's days. 🥰 All this said (because you deserve being complimented), which headcanon would you love to write but no one has asked you yet? I bet you have got a "little" something you're excited about, yet you have not shared yet. Love from Spain (yep, this has reached Spain)! ❤️

And, another stupid fact: I'm your same age, and my birthday is in September too! #VirgoForTheWin, I guess! 😂

Ahhh Thank you to you for taking the time to read this ridiculous ‘verse and I’m so glad that I’ve kept you entertained this month, I have to say I’m becoming rather curious as to how everyone found this blog, was it purely through my shameless self promotion of Ao3 or ?? Let me know some other time!

Spain??? My Goodness. That’s insane! I think of this as purely a local sort of blog although the fact that 2 people I know in real life have read it, is a little odd and Mortifying to me for some reason (I have refused to give anyone else the link including my older sister who eyed with a sort of Why are you like this? Look that only a truly exasperated sibling can pull off with appropriate love and concern when I told her what I’d been doing) Oh heyyyy! Birthday Buddies! September is a truly heinous time of year in Australia, because it’s strating to get ht and all of the flies and insects depressingly make themselves known again but there we have it!

Okay! I have been absolutely itching for someone to ask me about Edwina+ Kate and Anthony’s kids and absolutely no one has! I’ve been over here like “Guys! She’d be really cute with them!” And not a single one! So you didn’t really ask for them but here they are!

When Edwina Sheffield found out she was going to be an aunt for the first time she was... beyond excited. Kate may have thought she would die single and alone but Edwina had known better and her heart had ached because she knew Kate would be a truly amazing mother. People had a tendencies to think of Kate as all sharp edges, and dry witticisms, but at her heart she was warm, and patient, and the way she wrapped her arms around you had a way of making you feel like nothing could ever be wrong again. So yes, Edwina was thrilled! And also because, yes, she may take a little bit of credit for Kate and Anthony’s relationship as a whole.

From the minute Eddie found out she was researching. Though she made the mistake of telling Kate this at brunch one day, 4 months into the pregnancy. Kate I’ve been researching and I’ve read that pregnant women really shouldn’t- Kate hadn’t even let her finish. She’d dropped her silverware loudly on the table stood up and said Eddie not you too. I’m so disappointed in you. and left the room leaving Edwina and their mother a little stunned. Anthony had barely been ruffled, he’d scoffed and said Edwina don’t worry about Kate, She apparently doesn’t believe in RESEARCH yelling the last word so his wife could hear him. Kate had called back I’l tell you where you can shove your fucking research! Edwina did not bring the matter up to Kate again though she did send Anthony articles every few days.

When Edmund was born, Edwina loved spending time with him. She’d take him to the park, or the museum and they’d sit for hours, with her talking away, telling him about Anthony, and Kate, and the difference between a Stegosaurus and a Triceratops, strapped to her front in a tiny baby carrier. Even when people told her that Edmund was a baby and he really wouldn’t remember, she didn’t care. And when people would come up to her and comment on what a beautiful baby he was, and to Edwina’s mind there had never been a more beautiful one, she’d smile blindingly in the way she’d learned as an 18 year old startled people just a little and say Thank you! He’s my Nephew! Her heart brimming with pride.

When Kate was pregnant with Miles Edwina was just as thrilled, She’d just gotten engaged to Matthew Bagwell and she absolutely could not be more thrilled. than when she sat at lunch with Kate and excitedly said Matthew asked me to marry him! And Kate had cooed over the ring and said how much she liked Matthew and then said dryly You should be careful though, Men lure you in being so sweet and charming, carrying their sons round in little baby carriers with a plastic dinosaur in there hair and it’s just a trap to get you pregnant again. Edwina had laughed loudly and when Miles was born a few months later she watched how gently Kate Held Edmund, who had the tiny baby in his arms and it brought a tear to her eye as she took a picture just like the one hanging in her Mother’s living room.

Thanks so much for indulging me with these!

#bridgerton and sons au #kathony #pregnant! kate #edwina Sheffield #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly's asks and answers

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ultimatebethylficlist · 3 years

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Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82 started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so.

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

#bethyl fanfiction #veteran author of the month

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whatiwillsay · 4 years

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kaylor oomfs avert your eyes 😞

i get asked from time to time “why don’t you like kaylor, why don’t you like karlie, why do you think kaylor isn’t together? why aren’t you and ttb married yet?” and i think it’s high time i centralize my thoughts and receipts on all of that in a little timeline of shady things karlie has done to taylor that have made me wary of kaylor/karlie/that whole situation. don’t read if you stan kaylor this isn’t for you (unless you know you’re interested in the truth.)

first things first, i do think something romantic happened between kaylor go read @swiftiesleuth‘s realistic kay timeline for what i (generally) think happened between them.

but long story short - i think joshlie is real, i think they weren’t all that serious at the beginning, she famously didn’t meet his family for years, he didn’t take her to work events for a long time, so there’s room for her to have a fling with taylor even though we ended up with a real joshlie endgame.

taylor’s music and art supports this theory - in the wd mv she paints herself as the other woman, on rep she sings of secret sexy sex with her best friend that drives her crazy, in cruel summer she sings of a miserable, secret, and toxic situation with a person who rejects her love, in illicit affairs and august again she is the other woman - the art matches up. she also sings about her sunshine being gone on lover, and eclipsed on folklore. we have good clues in taylor’s artistic expression.

taylor’s given interviews about some of these karlie songs - she said cruel summer was about the start to a “doomed” relationship and look at what she said about august:

“It kind of explores the idea of the undefined relationship. As humans, we're all encouraged to just be cool and just let it happen, and don't ask what the relationship is — Are we exclusive? But if you are chill about it, especially when you're young, you learn the very hard lesson that if you don't define something, oftentimes they can gaslight you into thinking it was nothing at all, and that it never happened. And how do you mourn the loss of something once it ends, if you're being made to believe that it never happened at all?”

if joshlie is real which i think they are that 100% sounds like taylor having to process being gaslit by karlie while she cheats on josh with her.

so why do i think joshlie is real?

- josh has no credible gay rumors that didn’t originate on gaylor tumblr: he has old ex gfs that came before karlie, harvard message boards gossiped about him and didn’t like him but never said that he was gay, in fact one of the complaints josh’s schoolmates had about him was that he got special treatment for her girlfriend at parties.

- as stated before taylor’s art suggests she’s been the other woman with someone in her life recently. if josh and karlie are beards then what is the affair? why is taylor the other woman so often all of a sudden?

- i’ve spoken to someone with a mutual friend with the kushners - grain of salt of course, i know you can only trust stuff you hear from me with no proof so much, but i do absolutely trust this person and they say - no way in hell is joshlie fake, no way in hell is josh gay, no way in hell is karlie having taylor’s baby. also karlie absolutely has moved down to miami with josh. i’m sure we’ll see her in nyc and la from time to time but she is living in miami now.

- vicky ward, who is a real investigative journalist not some unhinged person on tumblr, wrote a tell all about the kushners. she uncovered gay rumors about josh’s father and josh’s brother but not josh. she had actual sources and was legitimately digging up tons of dirt on these people and not a word about josh being gay or joshlie being fake.

- yes karlie did convert to judaism. it’s really offensive to suggest she didn’t. of course she always could have done it for personal reasons but occam’s razor dictates she did it for josh i don’t know what else to tell you 🤷‍♀️

- also just vibes. karlie writes him love notes and leaves them with his breakfast. they make playlists for one another. if the kushners weren’t so heinous they’d be cute.

so in the joshlie is real world view i inhabit, i don’t stan kaylor the same way i do swiftgron because i don’t think kaylor was ever a committed monogamous relationship. important and impactful on taylor’s life? absolutely. inspired some amazing music? 100%. but was is true and tragic love that drives me insane and makes me feral? no. i don’t believe so. is it still an interesting and iconic ship? yes! but i don’t stan because it wasn’t like...true love or gay shit like that.

so let’s talk about karlie’s screwups that 1. assure me kaylor is not together and 2. make me have no desire to stan karlie/kaylor.

1. after the kimye drama (something that deeply traumatized taylor we now know thanks to miss americana) karlie said she was sure kim was a lovely person 😭 now i know she walked it back and tweeted she and taylor had one another’s backs. i know karlie was just trying to be diplomatic. but come on...if someone did what kim did to taylor to my lover or hell even just my friend i would say “fuck that clout chasing fame whore” bottom line. c’mon guys. have higher standards for your otp.

karlie also has vibed with kim on IG about her adidasas line. recently! yes i know she’s just promoting her brand but c’mon. taylor still hates kim, their drama got rehashed in march 2020 and just 6 months later kim n karlie are bestie-ing around on ig.

2. ALL the fucking masters drama and scooter fucking braun

- not long at all after the masters heist karlie was palling around with scooter on a yacht like come on the only other thing taylor is equally as traumatized over as the kimye drama is the master’s heist. why is karlie hanging out with him and partying with him at this time?

- karlie liked a tweet completely incinerating taylor (in a gross and unfair/inaccurate way) regarding the masters heist. she unliked it but still. why was she even looking at that shit.

- and yeah we gotta talk about perez. so perez hilton (who is a scumbag and gross but sometimes does have legitimate tea) posted a video saying that karlie and taylor were no longer friends because karlie betrayed taylor to scooter. now if that were all there was to it, it’d be dumb gossip. but a taylor fan account posted the video to twitter ashley avignone and claire winter both liked the tweet. ashley liked two tweets about it. perez proceeded to tweet that since two of taylor’s oldest and truest friends liked the tweets it must mean he was correct and neither of the girls unliked the tweets. ashley and claire are low key people, not celebs, not pawns in a “fued narrative”, just long time and loyal friends of taylor’s. they liked the tweet, imo, because there’s some truth to it.

- that brings me to spencer pratt. spencer is a reality star and super swiftie/huge fan of taylor’s. he despises karlie. he’s tweeted negatively about her and he also had perez onto his podcast to talk about the drama between karlie and taylor. taylor herself sent him a cardigan. do you really think taylor is going to allow a cardigan to go out to the guy who’s dragging her girlfriend or bestie? i don’t think so. receipts on perez and spencer here.

3. karlie posted for hailey fucking beiber’s bday instead of taylor’s and hailey hates taylor 🤢🤢🤢

4. karlie married into a fascist family that is associated with the trumps. like how can you expect me to stan? trump is a fucking criminal evil piece of shit. i know karlie isn’t like him (probably) but it’s still awful. kimby even goes around liking ivanka’s ig posts like give me a fucking break 😭.

in summation, you can disagree w me all you like, you can ship kaylor all you like, but if you’re of sound mind i don’t think you can look at the facts in this post and think i’m misguided for not being a kaylor/karlie stan. and you can’t blame me for thinking if you spend a lot of time obsessing over that ship you may not really be that big a fan of taylor’s. and if you’re spending a lot of time leading lgbt kids on to think they’re going to get a kaylor end game when all the objective facts of the case suggest that that’s never going to happen you might need to reevaluate but at the very least you certainly can’t press me for not doing all that.

#komments #of interest

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Pity Party Crasher༄ nakamoto yuta

↳ Just great. You’ve just been dumped at this stranger’s party and all you want to do is curl up in a corner and cry, which is... exactly what you do. To your surprise though, there’s been an uninvited guest to your pity party.

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader

content: fluff, comfort fic, alcohol consumption

wordcount: 1912 words

author’s note: ehehe can you guys guess who yuta’s supposed to be? also, this is a little rushed which i hope you can forgive me for since it was supposed to be short but turned into a full oneshot

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

They don’t seem to stop. No matter how many times you swipe at your puffy eyes, the tears keep pouring down in a constant stream, falling in droplets onto the fabric of your costume and no doubt smearing your makeup beyond all repair.

People are starting to stare, you realise which does nothing to boost your crumbling self-esteem at the moment. Nobody even bothers to approach you and ask you what’s wrong. All they do is ogle at you like you’re some sort of strange creature at the zoo. But then again, if someone walked up to you right now and asked you what’s wrong, you’d probably start bawling like a baby and humiliate yourself further. Even so, you wish at least someone here bothered enough to ask you if you were okay. Call it selfish, but you really wish you had someone to turn to right now.

All this extravagance does not faze you though. The second the toilet door locks with a click, shielding you from everybody’s eyes, you make a beeline towards the toilet--well, one of the two toilets--flip the lid shut and fall into it. You tuck your knees to your chest, burying your face as you finally allow a sob to wrack through you.

In the back of your mind, the self-assured, rational part of you knows that this is dumb. That foul man doesn’t deserve your tears after what he’s done. He doesn’t deserve even another ounce of your energy or another second of your time. He deserves absolutely nothing from you, and you know that for a fact, yet the tears are still hot and wet as they continuously trickle down your cheeks.

How embarrassing, you think. Here you are, looking nothing short of stunning in your Halloween costume, isolating yourself in some stranger’s bathroom, mascara running down your face all because your no good boyfri--ex-boyfriend, stood you up and proceeded to dump you over text, leaving you completely alone at this party filled with people you’ve never met because he had pleaded for you to go. God, just thinking about it makes your blood boil.

Your very own pity party is swiftly sabotaged when you hear the unmistakable sound of a shampoo bottle dropping and a barely whispered, “Crap!” coming from none other than the bathtub.

At this sudden intrusion, you immediately lunge to your feet, grabbing onto the nearest available weapon (which is a hairbrush in your case) and soundlessly tiptoe towards the source of this mysterious sound.

You pause, swallowing dryly. “Hello? Is there somebody there?”

The shower curtains almost immediately slide open in response and a scream gets caught in your throat as you raise the hairbrush menacingly over your head, in what you think is the best position to strike this person in.

“Woah! Oh my God, calm down!”

The identity of the culprit is revealed, although upon seeing his face you still have no idea who he is and, more importantly, why he was hiding in the bathtub. The stranger has his hair dyed a bright, almost neon pink, and little equally as pink antennas sticking out of his head. It’s painfully obvious they’re handmade by how asymmetrical they look, but you applaud the effort. He has his hands up defensively as he peers at you with caution, like you’re some feral, untamed creature, though to be fair, you probably look like one. All this while, this weirdo is still perched in the bathtub.

“What are you doing in here?” you hiss, letting the hand which was holding your makeshift weapon fall limp to your side. The man’s shoulders visibly loosen.

“Look, I know how weird this looks--”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“But I genuinely didn’t mean to be here and listen in on you,” he says. “In fact, I was here first.”

While that statement is true, his argument just leaves you with more questions. “Okay, but why the hell were you camping out in the bathtub of all places? Who does that?”

The man smiles sheepishly. “Look, I have my reasons.”

You expect him to explain himself, but oddly, he keeps quiet. You tap your foot impatiently and cross your arms like a disappointed mother reprimanding their child. “Okay, well, do feel free to explain these reasons.”

“Okay, well, you might want to take a seat for this one,” he says, gesturing to the toilet you were previously sat on, and you can’t help but snort. Nevertheless, you take this peculiar man’s advice and sit back down on the cold, hard toilet lid. “So, long story short, some guy out there really wants to kill me.” He pauses for extra affect. “In the most agonising way he can come up with.”

You physically recline back in what can only be shock. “Oh, wow. You’re serious?”

“Excuse the pun, but yes, I’m drop-dead serious.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, that’s dumb. Why’d you choose to hide out in here of all places then? Why not just go home?”

The man’s mouth hangs open, almost like he’s about to say something in retaliation before he promptly shuts it. “Hey, you know what?” he says, head tilted. “I didn’t think about that.”

You roll your eyes at his confession, though you can’t wipe the amused smile from your face. You briefly wonder exactly why this man is on someone’s hitlist. But you think that asking that question would only lead to equally--if not stranger answers.

“What about you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you camped out here in the bathroom?”

You chew on your bottom lip, sudden anxiety beginning to grip onto you. You didn’t expect him to ask that. No doubt he had heard your heaving sobs through the flimsy material of the shower curtain, but you didn’t expect him to ask any further questions. Really, you were sure he was just going to brush it off and pretend like nothing ever happened, and that you were just in the toilet for more normal toilet-like business.

“I mean,” he leans on the wall behind the bathtub, “you don’t have to tell me anything. I totally get that. But if you want to say something, I’m willing to listen. I’ve got a lot of time to kill. Excuse the pun. Again.”

You smile softly. You’re not sure what exactly compels you to confide in this stranger, maybe it’s the genuine concern present in his voice, the delicate look in his eyes behind those green-tinted glasses, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s somehow made you at least chuckle, just moments after your breakdown, which in the moment, was something you thought you’d never be able to accomplish, at least for another week.

“I--” you start, searching for the right words to say. “I got dumped by text by my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend,” you correct yourself. “And I didn’t even want to be at this dumb party to begin with. The guy had the gall to beg for me to come, and fucking dumped me after I dressed up and everything. Through text.” Crap. You can feel them coming. Another onslaught of fresh tears bombards you. You try your best to suck them back in, but a few stray ones stream down your cheeks.

“What a dick. Without a doubt, I can tell that you’re way above his league. He’s just a fucking prick.” Somehow, him dissing your ex-boyfriend makes your chest feel a little lighter. “But hey, are you okay?”

You angrily swipe your tears away with the back of your palm. “Yeah, whatever. I’m over it.” You know that’s a lie. But it’s more of a lie to fool yourself into believing than the man before you.

“If it makes you feel any better, the guy who’s trying to kill me is actually my girlfriend’s boyfriend.”

“What?” you sputter. You blink back your visible shock. “You mean you were seeing some girl who’s already in a relationship?” You can’t hide the evident disgust on your face.

“No! No! Of course not. I’d never do that!” he almost yells, appalled you’d ever accuse him of such a heinous act. “You know me better than that.” Again, his antics bring a humoured snort out of you. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I thought she was single. At least, that’s what she told me, but obviously, she was lying. She didn’t think I’d be at this party, so she brought along her boyfriend and now he’s found out and he’s trying to murder me, hence why I’m in the bathtub.”

You grimace. You should definitely offer him some consolation. It’s the least you can do after what he’s done for you. “Are… Are you okay?” you find yourself repeating his line of question back to him.

The man grins lopsidedly. “Yeah, I’ve drowned all my sorrows in alcohol and,”--He reaches into the bathtub before pulling out and entire bottle of some expensive looking champagne--“I’ve got more.”

You snort. “You stole the alcohol?”

“In my defence, this is so little compared to what’s out there that I really doubt anyone noticed.” He shrugs. “Plus, have you seen the size of this house. I mean, take this bathroom for instance. There’s two sinks! Who the hell needs two sinks? Even if I stole a truckloads worth of alcohol--which trust me, I was tempted to do--that would barely scratch the surface of this guy’s no doubt massive alcohol collection.”

You slump in your seat. “You know what? A truckload of alcohol sounds really nice right now.”

“Is that you telling me that you’re willing to help me in my alcohol heist?”

You laugh. “What? I didn’t say that… Although, my little hands could probably hold a bottle or two…”

The man leaps from the bathtub, outstretching his hand to you. “Alright then, come along my partner in crime. I’ve got some crisps in my car and we’re getting wasted tonight.”

“You’re just inviting a stranger into your car?” you tease. “What if all of this was just some extravagant ploy to get me close enough to kill you?”

The man grins cheekily, rouge beginning to dust his cheeks from the alcohol he’s consumed. “I wouldn’t mind being murdered by such a pretty girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you scoff, a bit taken aback by this brazenly flirtatious comment. Admittedly, you’re not opposed to it.

You place your hand in his, and his smile broadens as his hand tightens around yours. His smile is infectious, you find.

“And what might be my partner in crime’s name, may I ask?”

The man laughs as he tugs you from your seat, and it’s the nicest laugh you’ve ever heard.

“Nakamoto Yuta. My name is Nakamoto Yuta.”

“Well, Nakamoto Yuta,” you grin, “lead the way.”

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venushasvixens · 4 years

Text

Ch. 4 Back to Beginnings -Life is But a Dream (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

WARNING: mild sexual content

The cool air that snuck its way between the buildings blew into you harshly. You placed your hand over your mouth, silencing yourself. You clenched your jaws to keep yourself from chattering, afraid that every little thing was going to give your position away. Whoever you were chasing should've been hiding from you, not from them.

You could hear running in the distance against the pavement, echoing in the alley. It grew closer and closer. Your heartbeat was in your throat, threatening to jump out. You could feel the soft pulse through your fingertips. You couldn't tell if it was from the cold, or from the adrenaline. Was it a bad time to admit you needed to pee?

You were a horrible bounty hunter. You were too loud, you were clumsy with your gun, and body is just far too slow to give chase. Matter of fact, you looked rather ridiculous. But then again, everybody has to start somewhere, right?

Home was far away from here, across the solar system. And as much as you were homesick, fuel for your small, dingy ship cost money, and that was something that you did not possessed at the moment. Not one single woolong. Maybe a few coins and a token from the local arcade. You needed this bounty, and you needed it now.

The running grew louder and louder, the noise filling the alley. You squeezed the handle of your gun, afraid that your it was going to slip. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. You never really prayed before, but maybe you should start now. One step echoed in the alley. Then another. And then another. Each one growing louder than the next.

You placed your finger on the trigger gently, your hand surprisingly steady. You could see the outline of the woman that was now hunting you, her silhoutte growing bigger and bigger. Even though you were in the shadows of the alley, you definitely were sure that she could see you in the dark clear as day. Then she stopped, maybe a few feet in front of you. In an attempt to scare you, maybe elicit a reaction from you, she flipped out the barrel of her gun, spinning it, and popping it back in, over and over.

"You're sure one shitty bounty hunter." she spoke. You could hear the smile in her voice, one of the last insults in your short life. You could also hear the age as well, scratchy and hoarse. "But what I will let you keep for the next minute is the smallest bit of nerve for trying to take me out."

"You have nerve now to assume that I'll accept that." you blurted out without thinking. It may have been stupid, but do you have all the time in the world now to think it over?

She scoffed. " Oh, please. You're the one thinking that I'll give up myself that easily. And to a little girl with a gun."

You swallowed. "You're not wrong, but I might surprise you."

"Hiding in an alley waiting for the enemy to come to her? Yes, that is very surprising." she cackled, her hair flaying everywhere in the wind. Her arms outstretched, like a villain who just told the hero their heinous plan to take over the world. The dramatics certainly didn't work on you, but you sure thought it was funny.

You start laughing as you got up and dusted yourself off. Not in a mocking tone, or in a conniving way. It was totally genuine. She noticed this, and immediately stopped laughing.

"What"s so goddamn funny?" she ran up on you, her faces inches away from yours. You continued laughing, your head down. "Tell me, or I'll blow your fucking brains out!"

She stuck her gun underneath your chin, snarling and hurling threats at you. This still didn't stop your hysterics. "I-i think.." you couldn't even finish this sentence without a chuckle or too. "I-i honestly think.."

"You think? Spit. It. Out." she growled.

You smiled. "I think.. you are sure one shitty criminal. Your barrel's been empty since your laughing fit a minute ago."

Her face went blank as she looked at her gun, the barrel unloaded.

"Also all your bullets are on the ground behind you." You stated, your mouth into a fine line. She back up, accidentally stepping on few of the bullets. Her legs flew up, landing on her back. You could hear her start wincing and groaning.

"Seriously, how old is your gun?" You snatched her gun out of her hands, inspecting it. At a first glance, it could've been mistaken for a prop gun in an spaghetti western movie. "Wow, this is older than you. And you're ancient."

"Its my lucky gun. Its been with me since I first started in the game." She muttered. She struggled to pick herself up, but before she could, you swiped underneath her knees. She buckled down, stunned.

"I don't think I can let you off that easy. After all, I'm just a little girl with a gun, I don't know what I'm doing." You shrugged.

You aimed your gun at her leg and fired, the shot echoing. Your bounty gasped in shock, then started wailing in agonizing pain. Clutching her leg, she cried out. "Are you fucking insane?!"

"No, I'm just tired." You sighed. "Alright, let's pack it up, John Wayne."

As you finished the story, Spike and Jet could not stop laughing. It wasn't that funny. But with at least with five shots in, it was hilarious.

"John Wayne?!" Jet choked out, clutching his chest.

"I'm not kidding."You smiled. "I thought I was a total badass."

As you all tried to catch your breath, Spike waved over another round of shots. Jet noticed this, and put his hands up.

"No more, Spike." he said, yawning and stretching. "I think its time we hit the hay."

"Oh come on, Jet. At least stay for one more round." you lied, secretly wanting Jet to leave so you could have Spike all to yourself. It felt so odd, wanting someone you barely knew near you. Before today's events, you caught yourself multiple times delving into fantasies where you were confessing your love and affection to this mysterious man, and him returning just as much. He would place his hands on either sides of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. His eyes looking into yours, And then, that classic fairy tale moment would come. A sweet, soft tender kiss, and the flying off into the sunset. Then you realize that you were just creating a version of him that you wanted, and that he probably wasn't thinking of you at all.

And then there was moments where your mind wanders off, and you begin to think of all the ways he could absolutely destroy you. Emotionally and physically, but mainly physically. You imagined the way he would pin you against the wall, cornering you in. Trailing his lips against your neck, biting and kissing that sensitive spot that made you go crazy. He would grab your hair, pulling your head back to face him. It wouldn't be harshly, but that he had full control of you. Spike would crash his lips against yours, desperately and passionately, like it was the last time he would ever kiss someone.

Moaning and whining for more, you would try to snake your wrists from his grip to touch him. But he would keep you pinned down, only torturing you more.

"I don't think you deserve to touch me, " he would tease, pulling back from you. "Unless I hear you beg for it. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you."

After that, you would put a lid on it for the moment. You would feel the immediate need to drink some water, and an even greater need to take a cold shower. Its not that you didn't want these thoughts, its just you didn't want them to intrude on your mind when you were conversing with THAT person. Who was now trying to get your attention because you were spacing off. You were spacing off so bad, you hadn't realized that Jet actually did leave, and it was just you and Spike.

"Hey," he said, waving his head in front of you, "you okay?"

You nodded, hoping that it wasn't obvious that you were thinking of Spike fucking you six ways to Sunday. "Yeah I'm good! Why you ask?"

"You were just staring at me like I was a piece of meat." he replied, lighting another cigarette.

"Well, I don't even like meat, so." you smirked, taking a sip from your drink.

He raised his eyebrows. "From what I saw earlier at dinner, I know that is a fucking lie."

You giggled, twirling the small stirring straw in your cup. A little tipsy, and more confident than you usually were, right now was the perfect time to flirt.

"I do like a sausage every now and then, but, "you shrugged, looking anywhere other than Spike. That was a little too bold. You looked back at Spike, who was just smirking away.

"I think I'll that hang in the air for just a minute." he replied.

"I'm sorry, it was just there. I had to." you chuckled.

You noticed the faintest bit of blush on Spike's face. It could've been from the amounts of drinks he had, or the teasing earlier. You were pretty sure that it was from the drinks. Little comments like those definitely didn't influence that one bit. Or did it?

"How longer on you planning on staying here?" Spike asked.

"Until I'm ready to go to bed, and I'm wired." you responded, a little discouraged if Spike was implying that it was time that all parties were going home.

"No, I mean staying here on the planet. I'll be here until next week." he said.

"Oh my bad." you replied, your face burning slightly in embarassment. "I think the same as you, until next week. "

"Ah, okay." Spike mumbled. He looked at the tabletop, you both sitting in complete silence. What he said next made your heart jump into your throat.

"I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to do this next week? Dinner and drinks?" He asked, finishing his cigarette. "Right before we leave, I mean."

As much as you wanted giggle like a school girl, you played it cool. "Mr. Spiegel, it sure does sounds like you're asking me on a date."

Spike leaned his head on his hand. "And what if I am?"

"I'd say yes. I need a little fun every now and then." you stated, mirroring Spike.

You both sat there in silence for a little bit. You wanted to say something else, but the silence was doing just right for now. Talking to someone was nice, but just enjoying another person's presence? That felt just right.

"Question?" you asked.

"Answer." Spike replied.

"What do you do for fun, besides drinking and being cool?" you smiled.

Spike chuckled. He sat there, thinking. "If you would like, I can show you." he finally said.

"Show me. I'll follow you wherever you go." you said, taking that last shot.

"Alright, follow my lead then." Spike said, getting up. He held his hand out to you. You took it, jumping out of the booth. You staggered backwards, but Spike wrapped his arm around your shoulders to steady you

"Easy there." he grinned. You were a little too tipsy to care about Spike touching you, but it was gladly welcomed with open arms.

"Let me show you were the real fun is."

The real fun was in a small jazz bar, with a single man on stage playing the sultry notes of a saxophone. You were prepared for anything, but you thought it was going to be a little bit more exciting than this. But if this is what Spike likes, then you will definitely respect that.

He sat next you, his arm on his knee, leaning his head in his hand. He looked mellowed out, a blank expression. You were watching him out of the corner of your eye, seeing if his face would change. But it didn't. He kind of looked bored. Hoping you weren't making him bored, you cleared your throat. That got his attention.

"Hmm?" he asked, his eyes still fixated on the saxophone player.

"How often do you come here?" you asked him.

He sighed, leaning back. "Man, I want to say every time I'm on Mars. I've been going to this place since I was younger. Its almost like a safe haven for me. Where do you think I get my good taste in music from?"

You nodded, chuckling. "I get that."

"Besides drinking and enjoying some good music," you continued, "what else do you like to do? I already told you my hobbies earlier at dinner, so I guess its your turn to spill."

Spike leaned backwards, hands interlocked in the back of his head. "My hobbies." he thought. "I want to say make money, eat, and go to sleep."

You smiled. "No, I'm serious. What do you like to do for fun?"

"I'm serious too. Now that I think about it, I want to add on watching TV and practicing some punches, so I'm not too rusty." he replied.

"Who do you practice punches on? Not on anyone on the Bebop, I hope." you said.

"If I could, I would. Some of them really do know how to push my buttons." he muttered, sticking a cigarette in his mouth, but not lighting it.

"I'm not pushing any buttons by interrogating you, am I?" you asked, leaning closer.

"Of course not. I'm just answering some questions for a curious cat." Spike winked at you.

Your heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest, this man was so fucking fine. You bit down your lip, tapping your leg. You hope it wasn't too noticeable that Spike's flirting was taking a HUGE toll on you. You couldn't go back on to your thoughts from earlier, you can't right now. If you did, boy you were in for a treat back at your ship.

The silence this time was a little different, like something was off. You were expecting the conversation to bounce back, but it didn't. As much as you wanted to initiate talking, you felt like you could be talking too much. Spike was quiet, and he hadn't really changed positions for a hot minute. You now knew that when Spike got like this, he was thinking. His face would be expressionless, tapping his leg lazily, and just staring whatever direction he felt was necessary. During dinner, while you and Jet were talking, he would get quiet and travel off into his own little space. Now that it was you and Spike, you felt like you were intruding on something.

You turned your focus back onto the music. Coursing their way into your ears, the deep notes felt like they were pulsing in your body. You still couldn't get over the air between you and Spike. It felt a little somber.

"Hey," you said softly, touching his arm, "is everything okay?"

Spike looked at you, his eyes turned down a little. He looked right back at him, waiting on a response. His eyes traveled from your eyes, down to your lips, and then to the rest of you. Was he checking you out? His lips formed a soft smile.

"Yeah, I'm okay, " he said, "but besides that, did I ever tell you how nice you look tonight?"

As flattered as you were, you were still concerned over Spike. "No, but thank you. Spike, seriously, you seem off. You were just fine and chatty earlier, but your vibe is definitely off."

"I don't think we've been hanging out that much for you to see that." Spike shot back.

"Yes, but I kind of got a knack for reading people." you replied, crossing your arms. You were a little taken aback by his sudden hostility, but you really didn't know what was going through Spike's mind.

"If I said something that offended you, I-" you began, but Spike put his hand up to you. He shook his head, folding his hands together on his chin, placing his elbows on the table.

Conflicted with pushing until he tells you and just shutting up, you sat there. You began to distract yourself with thoughts of getting another drink, what you were going to do when this "date" was over.

"Alright, (y/n)," Spike spoke, his voice smooth, "do you want to know what's really bugging me?"

You hesitated, anxious that you awoken something that would surely make this the last date. You nodded, turning to face Spike.

"The past." he murmured, scooting closer to you.

"The past? Why?" you asked quietly.

"Why the past? Let's see." Spike stared into your eyes, his gaze unwavering. You looked back, but averted your eyes when you felt like you were overstepping. You already were overstepping with asking if he was okay, but there was something about eye contact that made you uncomfortable.

"I've had a long, long past (y/n). I've made many stupid mistakes. And even though I know they are all in the past, they keep finding ways to ruin my present. I guess you can say I'm torturing myself with being here, since this was such a big place to hang when I was in-" Spike stopped abruptly, clamping his mouth shut.

You nodded. "You don't have to say anything else. I understand." You gave him a small smile, placing your hand on his shoulder. Fuck comfort, you thought. Maybe it was just a human thing, to reach out to others when they're in pain, forgetting boundaries and anything that could hold back support.

He looked at the placement of your hand, then back at your face. It seemed like eternity that you were both like this. He returned the smile, a silent thank you in the air.

"Now I know that we already kind of drank a lot earlier, but how does another round sound?" you grinned.

Spike's face lit up. "You read my mind, (y/n)."

You stumbled your way out of the bar, clinging onto Spike as he led you out onto the street. You were a giggling, drunk mess. You weren't rowdy or anything when you drank, but you sure were the comedian. Spike sobered up a little earlier, so he was a bit straighter than you were right now.

"I would say, Spike," you slurred, "you sure are a pretty man."

"Oh thank you. Now lets get you back home." Spike replied, just holding onto you while you tried to walk without falling over.

"No no, you're not listening. Like you are really, really gorgeous. So gorgeous, you could put Valentine to shame." you laughed.

Spike chuckled. "Okay, I'll take that."

"Say thank you."

"No."

"Why?"

"Cause."

"Why?"

Spike sighed. Now you were getting a little annoying, but he didn't want to get rid of you for the night just yet. Even if you were drunk and acting a fool, your company was something he needed for a long, long time.

"Its a pretty night, don't you think, Spike?" you said, pointing out to the stars.

Spike looked up, amusing you. "Sure."

"No, say that it looks pretty. Or else you'll hurt her feelings." you smirked, giggling.

"Whose feelings?" Spike asked genuinely, because you were definitely talking out of your ass.

"I honestly don't know. But I do know that I'm tired as shit." you mumbled.

Spike was tired too, but for some reason, he didn't want the night to end just yet. You haven't noticed this, but Spike was walking around buildings to see if you would follow him and not the way home. And your dumbass just did that. It was actually kind of funny, but it was a joke only for Spike. For a brief moment, you walked completely normal, and then the spiral started again.

"Look miss, if you keep harassing me, I'm going to have to call the police on you, and I really don't want to do that." Spike teased, only adding more fuel to the fire.

"Ahh, no, please don't do that." you replied sarcastically, putting your hands up. "I've been a good girl, I promise." You half smiled at Spike, and continued staggering to the port where your ships were.

Spike place his hands in his pockets, trying his best not to reply to that last bit from you. But maybe he could let a little something slip.

"From what I've seen, you've been a bad girl." Spike taunted. "A very, very bad girl."

You turned around slowly, raising your eyebrows. Now it was your turn.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you asked, sauntering over to Spike.

"Give a guess." he said softly, his voice low and husky from the cigarette he just finished.

You moved in closer slowly, finding your balance. You looked up at him, boldly running your hands up his chest. Spike flinched from your touch, but melted into it. You ran it all the way from his chest to his shoulders, and finally up to his face. Placing both hands on either side of Spike's cheeks, you brought his face down to yours gently. The smell of alcohol and smoke filled your nostrils, tingling your senses.

You tilted your head, chuckling softly at how you had Spike wrapped around your finger at this moment. Spike closed the space between you both, taking into account how your hands framed his face so kindly, like you both have been doing this for forever.

"Mr. Spiegel," you began, smiling, "you're not going to do a goddamn-"

A loud blast burst through the air, scaring you enough to become completely sober. Orange flames and clouds of smoke could be seen from behind the buildings. Alarms from the surrounding structures sounded off, people yelling and asking each other what the commotion was.

"What the fuck?" you yelled as you watched the flames grow at a steady pace. You shielded your eyes, coughing.

"Its from the port!" a person shouted. "There was an explosion at the port!"

You and Spike looked at each other. Without thinking, you both bolted towards the chaotic scene. Every step brought more anxiety, not only for your ship, but for the Bebop. People ran around, to and from the port. You covered your mouth from the sudden inhalation of smoke, coughing more and more. As you came to a clearing, you could see the tumultuous scene before you.

Your ship was burning, engulfed in a blaze of violently whipping flames. You shielded your face from the heat of your destroyed home, backing into Spike.

"(y/n), we have to get away from here!" Spike shouted over the screams of panic surrounding you both. He wrapped his arms around you and started pulling you away, your feet dragging.

You began to hyperventilate, unintentionally filling your lungs with smoke. Either from shock or the smoke, your vision blurred, and finally, slipping to black.

AN: Thank you all for sticking around. With these last two months, I've lost two jobs and gained one where I'm finally in a good place, financially and mentally, so that's good. I want to push out more fics for characters listed on here and my tumblr (same username as my Wattpad). Once again, thank you guys so much for enjoying this fic, and please, stay safe.

#cowboy bebop #see you space cowboy #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #Faye Valentine #Jet Black #radical edward #ein #90s anime #toonami #Adult Swim

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ziracona · 4 years

Note

Hello! I have always believed that Michael needed better doctors and good treatment. He was simply billed as "Evil". Sometimes I think that at that time they were unaware or ignorant of mental illness, and that is why Michael did not recover. I wish it had been treated better. I would like to know your opinion about it ;v;

Oh, absolutely. Michael is a very tragic character, and what happened to him was almost entirely Loomis’ fault, secondarily the system and his parents’, and like onyl 0.8% his own. It’s true that mental health aid has historically been really bad in most places, and even today treatment and acceptance—even in specifically medical settings—tend to be abysmal. Of course people knew less than they do now about how psychological stuff works, but bias, cruelty, and superstition as well as a system that enables and even to degrees outright encourages that is to blame for the awful treatment people woth mental illnesses and personality disorders faced and continue to face, not just a lack of knowledge, and the history is really heavy and awful to look over. : ( It’s horrific some of the things doctors have done and do to people just trying to get help.

Like, in Michael’s case, we’ve had a name and understanding of psychosis since the 1800s. Canonically, by the time the poor kid was six years old, he was hearing voices telling him to do bad things to people. He told his parents, seeking help, and they did nothing to help him—just told him it was his imagination—despite knowing hos grandfather had suffered the same symptoms. If they had only taken him seriously and given him therapy and possibly medication too, Judith never would have died. (I am not goong to say it every time, but all this information is official canon) Michael’s reason for killing his family members is wanting the vocies talking to him to be quiet, because it’s agonizing. If you’ve ever had intrusive thoughts (stuff like “pull into oncoming traffic” or “break that and see what happens” and such that don’t actually compell or force you to do it at all, and are always things you as a person deeply do not want to do, but nevertheless are really annoying or distressing to hear in your head), imagine that cranked up to 1000, endless and constant, but from voices that seem to come from around you instead of in your head. Especially as a young child, with no understanding what is happening to you, this would be incredibly scary and distressing—doubly so when dismissed by your parents, whose sole job is supposed to be to love and protect you.

The voices say they’ll be quiet if Michael kills Judith, so Halloween night, he does. Important to note here Michael is recently six years old at the time, which developmental psych literally is not old enough to have a complete understanding what death itself is, let alone complex morality. You /cannot/ be evil at six, you simply don’t have a complex enough understanding of right and wrong or of consequence to /be/ evil. Also at this age, usually kids see death as a vague concept, but one that applies to people they don’t know only, not to them and their loved ones. In Halloween 1978, immediately after stabbing Judith, Michael looks away while he keeps doing it, and his breathing speeds up in a scared way. He barely looks at the body, and immediately goes down stairs to wait for his parents—probably for them to fix it—and does nothing to flee or hide what he’s done. He looks traumatized when they take his mask off. (Lots of little notes here like that Judith when she sees him seems annoyed but not very, and when he attacks her, tries to shield herself and call to him to stop, rather than fleeing or fighting back, which [appealing instead of fight or flight] is pretty exclusively something you only would use if attcked by someone you are on good terms with—I mean, Michael is six—if Judith had /tried/ to fight back, no way she would have died—so there’s less than nothing to indicate they had anything but a loving familial sibling relationship. But if I list all these I’m gonna launch into my six page Michael Myers meta so I will speed through the rest.)

Anyway! Sorry, I have many feelings. About...everything. Including Michael for sure. So, immediately after killing Judith, Michael stops talking. He also shows other psychosis and trauma readily recognized side effects, like catatonia, slowed movement. In Halloween 1978c Dr. Loomis claims he tried to treat Michael for eight years, then spent another seven trying to keep him locked up because he realized he was evil. This is a /blatant/ lie, as in film canon Loomis, by Michael’s review hearing I believe four months in? Six or less for sure, I believe it is four. Loomis has /already/ become convinced Michael is a demon in human form, faking his symptoms, and itching to kill again. The other doctors think Loomis is crazy, as does the other doctor who examines Michael, but they’re awful people so they let him stay Michael’s doctor anyway, even though they refuse to move him to Litchfield maximum security. By this time only a few months in, Loomis is canonically also threatening the six year old in his care and constantly telling him he is an evil being who wants to get out and terrorize again. (Also, I will die enraged the sentance Michael gets for killing Judith is to remain locked in solitary in a sanitorium for /15/ years, until he turns 21, at which point he will be tried as an adult for murder??? The fuck?? You CANNOT charge a 6 year old’s crime in adult court! ‘Tried as an adult’ is meant for like, when a 17 year old dismembers their family and eats them! It’s for particularly heinous crimes, committed by someone /very/ close to being legally an adult, and that /only/. The idea of waiting fifteen years to try someone as an adult for something done at age six is laughable and sick).

Okay this is already long, I get carried away rip. Uhhh, anyway, yeah. In Smith’s Grove, Michael is visited by mom and Laurie once, then never sees any of his family again, because his dad hates him and forbids the others—finds out because Laurie is four and talks that they went /one/ time, and physically beats four year old Laurie for mentioning his name until she trauma blocks out ever having had a brother. From then on, Michael spends /fifteen/ years and all the dest of his developmental stages of childhood in a sanitorium with Dr. Loomis—a man who on wild religious superstition grounds assumes by his own admission /on sight/ that Michael is evil, and no other human contact. According to canon, Michael spends at least four hours of /every/ day with Loomis, his /only/ human contact, who threatens him, promises to stop him, and endlessly barrages him with “You’re evil, you’re not human, you want to kill again, I /will/ stop you,” and nothing else. He also canonically keeps Michael overdosed on a type of antipsychotic that, while a fine drug if used normally, if overdosed can deeply worsen symptoms, and can cause permanent brain damage.

Honestly, if a six year old is exposed yo major trauma, none of their issues are explained, legitimized, or believed, and almost all of their developmental stage is spent with endless voices they don’t know the cause of suggesting murder and violence, one human being and authority figure telling them over and over and over for fifteen years with no other constant in their life or human contact period that they are a demon in human form who wants to kill and is /going/ to do so again...? How else was that story ever going to end? I’ve said it before, but that’s beyond conditioning; it’s lab growing a human child to one day walk out and murder Laurie Strode with a large kitchen knife.

I stand by Halloween is a greek tragedy more than a slasher, and Michael and Laurie are both victims. He’s the Asterios, she’s the Ariadne. Loomis the Minos, the real villain. (Or the Poseidon choose your poison).

Anyway, I 100% agree! If he had just gotten help from his parents, Judith would have never died. If he’d had good doctors, none of the events of 1978 would have come to pass, or anything after it. Loomis single-handedly causes the deaths in 1978 himself through years of cruelty, and bigoted bias towards a small child in his care who needed his help, not his abuse, but he chose to break as much as he possibly could despite his responsibilities as a doctor, an adult, and a human.

If you’re interested, I did a canon-deep-dive character study short story on Michael on AO3! Halloween is such a sad story but it’s fascinating. God, poor Michael and Laurie deserved so much better than they got. It’s a testament to Michael’s character that even after 15 years of Dr. Loomis, he really only kills his intented target(s) in search of quiet from the voices, and anyone who sees him/would be a threat, and not other people. Makes no attempt to kill any of the kids in Halloween 2018, and only kills Bob when he literally opens the door to his hiding spot and Michael is found and Bob becomes a threat to him. In H20, after Michael has had 20 years on his own, you get arguably the least brutal Michael, who intentionally passes on killing the mother and child, and the security guard he walks right past, because they don’t see him and thus he doesn’t /have/ to. Halloween II is less intentionally avoiding, but even then he still does the same multiple times too, like with the old lady making a sandwich, or the scene in the incubator room. Anyway he desevered better fuck Loomis all my homies hate Loomis.

#ask #anonymous #michael myers #halloween #halloween 1978 #halloween II #Halloween H20 #Halloween 2018 #note: Michael is written /very/ differenly in the different timelines. different writers took complrtely dofferent approaches to hin as a #person. and his motives. so unless I state otherwise I am always talking exclusively about the version of Michael from the H20. 2018. & DbD #timelines. since those are all largely the same character. unlike the 3-4 RZ and resusrection or the novelization etc #they’re seperate universes w different canons. i am only really interedted in core/OG canon and its offshoots #its /direct/ offshoots haha #laurie strode #sam loomis #Isolation (fic)#Isolation #meta #michael myers meta #long post #me: I am not gonna do the six page breakdown ima do an overview #me: doesn’t do the six pages but damn well doesn’t do the short version either #i can’t help it you found an intense passion topic

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jaffacakerebellion · 3 years

Text

I posted this on Saturday but I really need people to hear this

There was a protest in my city today, by a group called ‘white rose’. They were protesting lockdowns, masks and vaccinations. They’d stuck up stickers all over a certain area, outside a library, near a university campus, and around a park. It scared the shit out of me, seeing the people in town, with about 10 police officers keeping the 25-50 protesters in a tiny (and incovenient tbh) space, not too far from where they’d put up the stickers. As I was walking home, I found some of the stickers, and tore down as many as I could see.

Some of the stickers were obviously theirs- meme templates from reddit, claiming the government was lying about the pandemic to stop people from ‘living their lives’, saying ‘the media is the real virus’ and ‘if you tell a lie enough times it becomes the truth’ and all sorts of shit. Some other stickers were much more inconspicuous- little round ones with a pair of hands tenderly holding a blue dove. Around the edge they said ‘I do not consent to another lockdown’ and ‘I do not consent to get vaccinated’. This was very similar to some of the banners they were holding, and some were wearing ‘FREE HUGS’ t-shirts.

The one sticker which stuck out to me most is one which said something like ‘how do you think the German people felt when the Nazis were taking over, with no power to stop them?’ This is the same rationale the Nazi Party used at the time to gain ‘support’- convince people there is no other way, that their system is the strongest, the right system, how will you disprove us? They scared people into their system, turning vulnerable people into fascists. The White Rose is employing Neo-Nazi thinking. To be honest, it was fucking terrifying.

After they were presumably done, they started coming back to the park where they’d already posted plenty of stickers. It’s a hot Saturday afternoon, so lots of people are in the park, families, children, and I’m busy ripping these stickers (most of them about half the size of a bumper sticker) off bins and signposts. Now, at this point I’ve already been confronted by:

- a woman with red hair (dyed red) in a black suit. She asks me what I’m doing. I tell her that some people have been spreading misinformation, and she recalls the demo in town. She agrees ‘yeah, that did look kinda like misinformation. huh. well, cool, okay’. She may just be bad at interacting with people, but there was something pointed, and I don’t think that she could pluck up the courage to tell me to look them up and find out jus how wrong I am. She didn’t look much like the other supporters.

- a woman in a ‘FREE HUGS’ t-shirt. When she asked me ‘why are you taking those down’, I already had a headache and didn’t fancy an argument, so I said ‘they’re the wrong ones.’ She couldn’t hear me, because so many people were walking past. She yelled ‘what?!’ so I repeated ‘THEY’RE THE WRONG ONES’, nodded affirmatively, and walked in the opposite direction. This, of course, was nonsense, but it left her looking incredibly fucking confused, and she eventually just walked away, which I was thoroughly delighted about, as I wanted to return and take more stickers down. I later realised that the men walking past and making so much noise was probably most of the others at the protest, like 25 men and me and her in an underpass. If they’d have seen me taking the stickers down, who knows what would’ve happened. (yes I know I made some bad decisions today and it would’ve been my fault but fuck it, when a dog shits on the pavement someone’s got to clean it up)

-Two bald middle aged white men, both holding pints. One of them yelled ‘what are you taking them down for? Read what’s on them, you might actually learn something!’ I just said nothing and stared at him as he walked away, whilst continuing to crumple one up, which I’d just taken off a railling.

- Some old Scottish guy and his family. I pretended to be taking them down bc the QR codes didn’t work and the sticker had to be replaced. He asked me why I had a mask on, I lied and said my mum wouldn’t let me out of the house without it and took it off. He told me what to go and tell my mum, whilst standing way too close, with his family gathered around him (like 6 people in total, including 2 kids). He was the reason I took a COVID test when I got home, alongside the blaring headache.

-Another family, this time the patriarch was a skinhead in a black polo shirt and jeans, same height as me (kinda short). Just like the others I was confronted by, his regional accent was very strong. Again, I said the QR code didn’t work. I started to walk away this time, kinda scared, and all his family walked up into the park, but he left his teenage daughter behind for a bit to make sure I didn’t come back (how brave). I came back anyway, but they wanted to go into the park and have fun.

But the last pair is what got me. One of them claimed to have done a biomedical science degree at the local university back in 2005. He was the only non-white person involved, and the only one who had anything scientifically based to say. However, the more I asked him about the degree he said he had, the more he started backing physically away from the conversation, claiming he had to go. The discussion I had with him lasted maybe 20 minutes, during which he confessed a belief that big pharma was dishonest and covered up heinous activity, which I agreed was absolutely right, but these ideas came to the total wrong conclusion.

I’m not explaining this very well anymore, it’s late and I’ve still got a headache, but his strong short white skinhead friend kept walking away then coming back, even at one point claiming that he was going to go and get someone. When I asked the first if he agreed with the non-scientific way the first man’s ‘friends’ were talking, and the fact that he is coming at this argument from such a different angle, he just changed the subject. It was around that time that I noticed that he wasn’t blinking, and that he was wearing a ‘Guardians 300′ t-shirt. I’ve since looked them up. They’re a cult. Nobody’s talking about it. He tried explaining the science to me, and I said that I don’t know enough about science to understand what he was saying, but tried to change the subject away from science- it just clearly wasn’t about that for any of the protesters except him.

Anyway, after he was done talking to me and claimed he had to go (right after I claimed to know a few lecturers in the university (I don’t but it was worth a try to see if he was bluffing) and started questioning him on who he knew), I turned around and just kept on taking off those fucking stupid stickers, including two which the skinhead had stuck on while we were chatting. They saw me doing this. I wanted them to see it, but now I’m not so sure. It was a dangerous move.

When people feel certain of something, you have to listen to them to let them air their uncertainties and change their mind. They were aware of this. I was aware of this. Neither of us listened much to each other. I was, to be honest, freaking out all the way home. What the fuck? I’d only seen people say this online, usually Americans, I’d heard about them on the news too. Suddenly I was getting looks from strangers, whilst taking down these stickers, and honestly had no idea who was who, or what they thought of me. And anyway, I’m trans, and have the fear of being looked at funny for that compounded with the fear of what a member of this group could do, it was terrifying.

I think there are very few things which stand between a person coming to a logical conclusion about what’s going on and a less logical conclusion and getting sucked into dangerous territory, although in this day and age there aren’t many logical things left. I’ve experienced the Dunning-Kruger effect at school, but some may never have experienced that, to feel like their understanding of something can only ever go so far. I’m alright with saying ‘I don’t know’ and admitting that I’m not an expert, but I feel like all these people feel like they do have to know everything, and their genuine, valid fears have turned them to these crazy ideas because they’re nicer than the truth. I got told by a lot of people to ‘do your research’, but I didn’t say that to them, because they may well do their own research, but not necessarily using reputable sources.

This is how Fascism works. If I had the same beliefs as them, I know I’d probably be doing the exact same things- trying to spread awareness. They genuinely think that they’re making a positive difference when they ‘change people’s minds’. Either that or those stickers were put up to get ripped down, to show their followers that ‘everyone is out to get you’. I was definitely scared most, however, by how close we all are in this day and age, to being them. I’ve attended protests, argued online, sent people links, spread my views. Most of my friends and I share the same views, we share each others’ information, when something’s wrong we blame ‘them’, or ‘the government’. These radicalised people were people I’d probably passed in the street before, who I’ve bought bread next to or admired their dog in the park. I met the next Nazis today, and they looked just like everyone else.

#extremism #extremists #anti mask #anti vax #fascism #UK politics #british politics #protests #politics #reddit #please reblog #signal boost

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rhmg-au · 4 years

Text

Prequel part 1.

Thinking of some endings for the final confrontation, would try to get them out once I complete the prequel first.

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au . Please follow them, reblog their art, give them fanart, support them in any way possible, etc.

TW: Torture, blood, gore, restraints

(Mod Swanno: Edited with the read more option due to length and content!)

Eyes fluttered rapidly in the dark, the aching pain ran rampant throughout his entire body, the tears in his uniform exposing his skin to the coldness in the room from the lack of heat inside. Two figures seem to be in front of him, chatting with one another.

He let out an involuntary groan of pain, causing the two to turn to them. They look familiar.

“Awake already, Price? Thought you’d be knocked out for at least for few more hours.”

At that statement, the memories flooded back to him, as if he was in the sea in the middle of a big storm, only he was alone on a boat, the lighting and crashing waves wanting to throw him off the only thing keeping him from drowning.

The fighting, the snapping, the discovery.

———

A knock was heard on his door, he was in one of the rooms made for soldiers who needed to rest after a tiring mission or just stay for a break from their duties. His mind was wandering in its own little world, trying to think of ways to get rid of that monster he calls his general, he’s not noble anymore, after what he witnessed him doing to a Toppat, though he is a criminal, it was still so cruel to strip him of his memories and forcefully turn them to their side, and how it was carried out was…too brutal to watch or even hear for that matter. How could he live with himself after such a heinous act?

Those thoughts were carried to the back of his mind when that sound caused by a hand repeatedly hitting the door from the other side to get someone else’s attention inside.

“Rupert? May I come in?”

It’s him, it’s time to play the role of the actor again.

“You may, general.”

Galeforce entered the room as soon as the request to come inside was approved by the soldier, closing it behind him. His smile looked so normal that no one would ever guess that he did so many terrible acts behind that mask.

“What is it you need, sir?” Rupert asked, straightening his posture, and making sure to wipe his face clean from any form of an expression full of hatred. He cannot reveal his true feelings towards the man, or anyone for that matter. They can be loyalists to him, blinded by their duties to ever consider siding with him. No one is safe to talk to about his issues.

“Are you…actually loyal to the government, Mr. Price? I was informed by Dr. V that you were acting quite strange these past few days, and she has a suspicion that you’re a traitor.”

These words caught Rupert off-guard. They knew? How…how could they know? He thought he hid it so well, concealed it from everyone, how, just how?! Did someone snitch on him? “I, I am loyal sir. I was just thinking about my next missions those past days is all.” He was praying that he would buy it, he couldn’t risk to be found out of his resent. He knew it wouldn’t be anything but bad.

“Then tell me…do you know about the latest piece of technology we developed?” What was that supposed to mean? Naively, he shook his head, realizing too late that he made a crucial mistake by doing that.

Galeforce’s smile contorted into a smirk, one that is full of malice. That never meant good, at all. “A device that allows us to know who is lying by just hearing their words and their tone. Think of it like a lie detector, but a better version.” He took out the little gadget, the design was rather basic, just a square shaped piece of metal with antennas sticking out, a screen was visible with lines rapidly going up and down. Such a simple yet complex device. And it’ll be used for an occasion like this. “It’s still in the alpha stages, consider yourself honoured since you’re the first one we’re using to test it.” He took a good look at the lines. “And would you look at that, judging by the way the lines are moving, it detected that you’re lying.”

“No, no sir, are you sure it’s just a misinterpretation? An error?” Rupert knew that he was screwed, yet he still tries to deny it. Anything to get him out of this situation. Anything.

“Sorry to say, Price, but Dr. V told me these lines represent when someone is lying. It is no bug for sure.”

That was the answer he was dreading to hear.

“Now, do you remember what happens to those who are traitors? Or, for you, a potential traitor? You have quite the disdain for me, and that leads to backstabbing.” Galeforce pocketed the device, that grin turning sadistic now.

There was nothing left to hide. He saw through his facade, and now he has the information that he harbours distaste for him.

“You really think I would let something like that slide? What you did was absolute torture! How could you consider yourself to be human after what’d you done?! He may have been a Toppat, but you didn’t have to go to the extreme! What the hell is wrong with you?! Did you even think about how the Toppats feel?! That you took away someone who was so valuable to them, both personally and usefully, did you ever consider that?! Tell me, was there a time you even felt some sympathy?!” He couldn’t contain his rage anymore, he had to snap. It was in there for too long for him to ever hold it back, he may hate the Toppat Clan, but even he couldn’t deny that what Galeforce did crossed the line.

Galeforce didn’t responded, instead he took a step forward. Then another one. His face blank, showing no emotion, no care, no concern, no astonishment, no happiness, only apathy. Before he eventually leapt out and attacked him, like a wild animal would when it sees potential prey.

Rupert didn’t hesitate to fight back, both of them knocked to the ground. He raised his hand to counteract the opposing one ready to strike, catching it in time before it could land a hit on his face. Immediately afterwards, he caught the other hand that threatened to finish what the other arm wanted to begin.

“You could’ve been a valuable soldier here, had you not raise this hatred inside of you.” Galeforce taunted, ripping his hand out of his grasp and grabbed his hair that still stuck out from his hat, pushing his head forward.

“What was I supposed to do? Watch you turn someone into a relentless slaughtering puppet to do your dirty work? That isn’t how anything should go!” Rupert gave him a hard punch, directly on the nose. He wasn’t sure if he broke it, but blood poured out from the openings, a good indicator to confirm his suspicions.

Galeforce didn’t get knocked out, though the sudden punch to the face disoriented him for a few seconds, giving the resentful soldier enough time to rip himself out of his grasp and push him off, making a break for it to the door.

He didn’t make it, because of course he didn’t.

He was yanked back by his uniform, the grasp so tight and so harsh that he felt the cloth made to create this suit tear, and before he knew it, he was thrown against the wall, black starting to tease around the edges of his eyes from how hard his head hit the concrete.

“It’s the least I could do, trust me, I would do much worse.” Blood dripped down from his nose, staining the floor with the crimson substance.

“I don’t need to see them to know you’re a horrible person. I’ll beat the shit out of you and I’ll expose you and your heinous deeds.” Rupert shakily got up, it was rather hard when you’re close to blacking out from a strong hit on the head, but it was manageable.

“Still being cocky as ever? That’s biggest downside to you, always so certain you can do everything no matter how impossible it may seem. How cute.” Galeforce’s smirk increased in size as he approached him, taking him by the neck and lifted him off the ground, feet barely touching the floor. The soldier threw his hands onto the wrist of the general, suffocation is very likely if he was not released soon.

“It’s…not impossible…to get you…dismissed…” With his windpipe blocked, air couldn’t get inside to his lungs, affecting his breathing and speaking abilities.

“Dismissed? Why, so many ridiculous ideas run through your mind these past few days huh?” Galeforce released his grip on Rupert, letting him fall to the floor gasping for breath for a moment.

“They’re…logical…not ridicu…lous…” Regaining his strength albeit a bit slowly, he threw his fist at the general, aiming for his chest. The sleeve on the arm of his clenched hand was caught, yanking him to his feet so violently that another tear was made in his uniform, as well as causing pain to his arm due to how hard it was pulled, almost out of its socket. It took all of his willpower and gritting his teeth to not scream from the pain travelling up the limb.

“You must be forgetting that I’m a general, the public believes me as a good-intentioned nobleman who brings criminals to justice. Nothing can ever convince them otherwise.” Galeforce brought his face close to the soldier’s, letting him see that wicked grin close up, which only succeeded in letting his glare darken. He took ahold of his arm, tightening the grip instantly, as an attempt to prevent escape.

“Not if I get evidence, your acts are inhumane, no one deserves a fate like that.” Rupert spat, bringing his knee up and kicking him right in the stomach, using all of his strength in that one blow.

This action caused Galeforce to stumble back, releasing his grip on his arm in the process. Taking this opportunity, the soldier opened up the door, running out of the room. He needed to get out of here, now.

The attempt at escape didn’t work, as the general caught up with him easily, sending him crashing to the floor as he felt a heavy weight fall onto his body, He looked up, the black around his eyes more prominent.

Before his irises could see who was there, even though he already knew who, a fist collided with his head, causing the void in his eyes to finally take over.

The last thing he remembered before blacking out were these words:

“Really thought you could get away? Now, you’ll face the consequences.”

———

Everything was made clear now.

“What is this place?” His voice sounded weak, probably from the lack of water. “Are you going to robotize me like Green? Is that it?”

“No, something much worse. But now that you mentioned it, it would be a great idea. For now though, we have something else planned.” Galeforce answered, that grin so sinister it might as well be considered taking a spot on the most evil smiles list, if one was created that is.

“I would like to turn you into walking weapon, but I still need to monitor Green for the time being. Consider yourself lucky.” Dr. V added, sharing the same smirk as the one on Galeforce.

Rupert tried to throw a fist in either of their faces, but when he did, his hand never moved. Instead, he was greeted with the coldness of a metal cuff holding his hand down on one of the arms of the chair he was sitting in. It’s likely his other wrist was also in the same state as his left one. Though it should’ve been expected, it still shocked him. He was being restrained.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that you aren’t going to be able to leave. You’ll spend the rest of your days here rotting away while we make you realize just how stupid you are to doubt my acts of protection.” Galeforce informed, as if the feeling of the bindings on his wrists weren’t made clear to him enough.

“Protection?! You call that protection?! You hurt someone beyond the point of acceptance and you call that protection?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Despite his throat hurting after such an outburst, Rupert called him out on that statement of absurdity. Still thinking he’s a hero after everything? Even criminals don’t deserve that happening to them.

“It’s for the greater good. Besides, would you want a cyborg to be roaming free with those crooks?”

“He’s still human!”

“Criminals aren’t humans if they don’t have morals.”

“And you aren’t human if you feel no sympathy for them! Think about the hardships they went through that forced them to turn to crime and we never noticed! If anything, it’s the government’s fault!”

“…Dr. V, do your work.”

“Yes, sir.”

The blonde took out a pair of surgical scissors from her lab coat, walking over to the soldier, who is now struggling in the cuffs that held him in a one spot.

“Let’s begin the lesson, shall we?” Dr. V said, holding the surgical scissors over his face for a moment before snipping a part of his skin with them, blood immediately dripping out from where she made the cut.

Rupert grounded his teeth together, not wanting to give either of them the satisfaction of hearing him in such pain. He knew it would only bring more trouble if he gave them the reaction they wanted to hear, so no screaming. Just endure the pain all enough for something else to occur that causes them to leave. Like boredom or duties.

When no strong reaction came from the soldier, Dr. V dug the blades of the scissors deeper into his flesh, sliding it along slowly and painfully, intending to stop at his cheek if no signs of a scream comes soon. This was only the beginning. The next stages are much, much worse.

Despite the fiery pain growing inside of him from the scissors digging into his skin, Rupert still didn’t give them what they wanted out of him. His teeth were gritted so tightly together to suppress it the best he could. Blood started to leak into his mouth, that metallic taste made clear from the get go. He has to stay strong, this wasn’t the worse thing that happened to him. Seeing Dave getting fired and him going missing were much worse than experiencing torture…

Nothing, no reaction. “You’re stronger than you look. Impressive, but not too impressive.” The doctor pocketed the now bloodied scissors back into her lab coat, the remains of the crimson substance staining the white colour of the garment. She then took out a scalpel, this time instead of his face, she targeted his arm, plunging the sharp edge of the blade onto his shoulder.

The soldier bit down on his bottom lip as to let his teeth rest from the pressure they were under from grinding against each other for so long. Blood slipped out from the bottom lip due to how hard he was biting down on it, the metallic taste more prominent now.

Dr. V’s face contorted into frustration. “Don’t bother trying to hide your pain.” She advised, taking the scalpel out from his shoulder, that crimson substance affecting colour of the metal to make this surgical tool, now just like the scissors sitting inside of her lab coat. She clenched her hand into a fist and made it collide with his cheek, the one that isn’t soaking with blood from the cut. The force in the punch was hard, bound to create a bruise.

Rupert felt his head snap to the side momentarily, causing him to quickly look back to the woman in front of him. “How do you call this revenge if you only really want the Toppats?”

“Anyone who sides with Toppat Clan is called revenge.” Dr. V answered, making an incision on both of his wrists as he spoke, acting and speaking nonchalant about it. “I told you, masking your pain would make things worse. Cooperate with us.”

“You just need to give him a little push in the right direction. As I said before, he’s as stubborn as Green when he was a Toppat.” Galeforce said, his first words in a while.

“And how do you suppose we shove him where we want him to go?”

“Allow me to handle it. I’ve known him for quite a while now.”

The general stood in front of Rupert after Dr. V backed away. He leaned in close to him, whispering something in his ear, his breath causing a shiver to run down his spine. Surprisingly, his eyes widened at what was said, horror written all over his expression.

“Y-you, no you couldn’t-”

“Don’t worry, I trust him enough. But if I find out he’s been going behind my back…”

“Don’t you fucking hurt him! It’s me who you’re mad at, so just do whatever the hell you want with me but leave him alone!”

“I will take action if that’s the case, and what can you do in your current state?”

“This.” Rupert lifted his legs up and slammed them into Galeforce’s chest, the general taking a few steps back due to the impact. Man that hurt…

He looked up after a few seconds, Dr. V coming by his side to check if he had any injuries, pocketing the scalpel beforehand. “Chain his legs too. I’m not letting this happen a second time.” He checked his belt and took a pair of handcuffs from them, handing them out to her.

Dr. V nodded hastily, snatching the restraints quickly and cuffed the soldier’s ankles to the legs of the chair, despite his trashing interrupting some of the progress. “There we go.”

“Someone will find me here, and you’ll regret all of your actions.” Rupert promised, the glare so dark you could probably see a shadow brooding across his face. He’d struggled for a little bit more before giving up, the burning pain playing a part in why he stopped.

“You are in basement of lab, no one knows of this.” Dr. V said, immediately crushing any hope that he may have. Green most likely doesn’t know of this too. “Let’s continue now, shall we?”

Before she could pull out the blood covered scalpel however, Dr. V was stopped by the sound of beeping. “One sec.” She took out the communicator she brought down here, in case of the event someone made a call to her while they were doing what they were doing.

“Hello, this is Dr. Vinschpinsilstien speaking, how could I be of service?”

Rupert saw this as an opportunity, an opportunity to get outside help. It doesn’t matter who it is, the Twins, Victoria, Hayden, Charles or even Green, he can get out of here if he just yells at the communicator. He hated asking for assistance for anything, if he had to be honest, but at this moment, he needed help, he can’t escape by himself.

He was about to shout, to scream, to cause a scene to get the attention of whoever is there, but at the last second, his mouth was harshly covered by Galeforce, both hands were on him to block out his cries for help. Still, he called out anyway, muffled by the hands on his mouth, barely creating any noise.

“…Ah yes, I will be at the lab Green, just come along and I’ll attend to you.” The line cut off soon after Dr. V finished her call with the cyborg.

The opportunity passed…gone.

Galeforce released his hands from Rupert’s mouth as soon as the call was finished, allowing him to take in deep breaths and finally talk properly. “I’ll…I’ll scream down here and…Green will hear me. It doesn’t matter that he’s rewired, he will notice that something’s wrong with me down here.”

“And that is why you shouldn’t speak so soon.” Dr. V said, taking a piece of cloth out from her lab coat, using it as a gag as she wrapped it around his mouth, muffling his words once again. As soon as she finished tying the knot, she and Galeforce left for the door, opening it up to reveal stairs, his only way to freedom if he can get out from this stupid chair. Light temporarily pouring into the room as it was opened up, but soon it was closed, denying any light from projecting itself into the room, leaving him in the darkness again.

What now?

———

Every passing day was torturous.

Literally.

Beating after beating, his blood spilling out from his system, eventually creating blood stains on the floor, chair and his uniform. The smell of the dried up crimson substance still lingered.

Any cry for help was muffled from the gag, guaranteeing that no one could ever find him here while Galeforce and Dr. V continued to teach him the lesson.

Every gash, every bruise, he even got some broken bones some days.

Whenever they went away, he cried and cried to himself, tears mixing in with the dried blood that stains his face. His spirit breaking down everyday. He still held onto hope, but it seems his grasp on it is fading away slowly.

“Someone…please…find me…I can’t hold out for much longer…”

#PACKAGE - [ FANWORK ]#[ NON CANON ]#tw blood #tw torture #tw gore #hoooHHH BOY!!! HOLY SHIT - MOD - [ SWANNO ]#submission

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