#hating going to the bathroom because it's such a nightmare and waste of time
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The Loop [The Last Act]
Batmom x Batfamily
Prompt: Is it finally over?
Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Bruce felt different this time. It wasn't because of his task given to him by Constantine, but the aura in the air was different. It was tense. As usual, he woke up to your side of the bed being empty and the bathroom door closed.
Instead of waiting for the door to open with your morning greeting, he jumped out of bed. He never thought his stealth skills would be used in his own house, but here he was...sneaking out of his bedroom without making a sound. Bruce wasn't planning on sticking around for long anyways. He was going to destroy the crystal ball, and get out of this loop.
"Bruce!" He turned around seeing his family...also stealthily moving through the house, "Are we sure this is going to work?" Barbara asked as she tightened her grip on Dick's shoulders. He chose to carry her to maximize their time.
"There's only one way to find out. We were all in the batcave by the time she made breakfast the first morning. She shouldn't have any suspicions this time." Bruce said and the group made their way down to the batcave.
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"My darlings? What on earth are you doing?"
It was as if someone dumped cold water all over them. There you were...standing in front of the very thing they needed to destroy, "Why don't you come upstairs for breakfast?" The tone of your voice wasn't sweet...it wasn't warm. It made everyone feel anxious. It scared them. This simple task had turned into a difficult one.
"We were just going to dispose of the crystal ball. It has no special purpose, so we don't need to waste space on it." Bruce lied while moving closer to you. He watched you fake smile slowly turn to a frown, "Move, Y/N" He said softly after getting close enough that he could touch you. Even though you were being spoken to in his Batman voice, and he was looking at you with his bat-face...you weren't budging.
Slowly your eyes started filling with tears as they stared into his, "Come eat breakfast, Bruce." You said softly. If there was one thing in the world that Bruce Wayne hated more than anything, it was seeing his wife crying. Anytime a tear of sadness came from your eyes, he made it his mission to stop anymore from falling.
Seeing that this wasn't going anywhere, Tim approached the couple, "Mom? Why don't we go eat breakfast?" He offered while wrapping his hand around your arm. Your teary eyes looked at him, and you smiled, "We'll go eat together." He said and started leading you away from Bruce. When you realized that Bruce wasn't following along, you jerked your arm away from Tim.
"Jason! Duke! Grab her!" Dick said quickly as he passed Barbara off to Cass. They were quick to grab your arms as you lunged for Bruce, "What is wrong with her?!?" Jason asked in a panic as he was struggling to hold you back. You weren't normally this strong. You began screaming in panic as Bruce picked up the crystal ball. Your panic only got worse when he lifted it up and slammed it down.
The glass shattered, and everything went dark...
In the real world...
John watched as all the sleeping Batfamily member's mouths opened and smoke emerged from them. He lowered his hands down and clenched his fists, "Y/n? Are you ready?!?" He asked and You nodded. Before this last loop, he drew symbols on your hands. It was a temporary spell that anyone could use. John knew he wouldn't have enough power left to open a portal to hell, and send the demon into it. Therefore, he got you to help.
"No...NO! My meal! What have you done!?!" A horrid demon emerged from the smoke. It looked like a living nightmare. Just looking at it had you shaking in terror. That thing was responsible for all of this?
"You picked the wrong family to feed on. Time to go back home." John said then looked at you. As he told you before, you just held your hands out. The symbols started to glow, and a portal started to form. On the other side, John grabbed the demon and started dragging it to the portal. Its skin felt like wet rubber, and burned. He winced as its claws dug into his skin.
John lifted the little demon up and tossed him into the portal. He watched it fall all the way down until it hit the floor of Hell. The symbols vanished from your hands as well as the portal vanished from the room.
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Bruce sat up, with a gasp and looked around. Instead of a warm bed, he was only a cold table with wires attached to his body. On each side of him was one of his kids. They were in a circle, and in the middle was John Constantine, "Well would you look at that? You finally figured it out." John said then grinned.
Before a word could come out of Bruce's mouth, he was nearly tackled off of the table by you launching yourself onto him, "I thought you would never wake up." You whispered and held your husband close to you. Now he was confused. What was going on? This was all some dream? All the times he watched you die...it wasn't real after all? Once that realization set it, he collapsed against you. The arm that wasn't holding himself up wrapped around you and held you tightly.
After your tiny reunion, you helped each of your children wake up. Each of them gave you a bone-crushing hug. Damian almost broke your rib, "The demon possessing the crystal put you all in the coma after you accidentally woke it. I went down to the batcave to get you guys for breakfast, but you were all asleep. Only Duke was awake." You gestured over to Duke, who had gone to get Alfred.
"Yes, and now that it lost its meal...andddd we've deprived it for so long. It's going to starve to death in hell. Maybe I'll go pay it a visit on your behalf." John said while sitting down. The magic he used took it out on him. Next time something like this happens, he's letting Zatanna take care of it. Hell, he'll even let Dr. Fate take a crack at it. He would be spending his time drinking.
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Not wanting to be in the way, John left. He left after receiving a hefty amount of money as a thank you gift...if the Wayne's were this generous, then he might be willing to help out a little more. "Are you sure they'll be alright?" You asked worriedly, and rested your hand on Dick's forehead. Being put in a time loop left them all with a serious fatigue, so they were sleeping it off in hospital beds in the batcave. All of them are still connected to wires...just in case.
"John said they just needed some actual sleep, and then they should be fine, "Duke said while pulling a blanket over Stephanie, "If anything happens, John will be back to help." He watched your shoulders relax a bit. This was one of the worst birthday's you've ever had. Next year, you were banning any missions before your birthday. You didn't care if you had to lock them all up.
"Ummi?" Damian called out while fighting his sleep. You moved away from Dick, and over to him, "I don't want to sleep." He said even though his yawn contradicted him.
"Habibi, you need to rest. I promise you'll be alright." You said and sat on the bed with him. He let out another yawn then shook his head. Damian kept trying to fight his sleep, but with you running your fingers through his hair and the sound of you humming a tune...he was out in no time. The song was something he's heard before, but he was too tired to think about where he's heard it before...
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When Damian woke up, he was in his bed. You or Duke must have carried him to his room last night. He quickly got out of his bed and made his way to your bedroom. After everything...he wasn't letting you out of his sight for a long time. When he opened the door, he saw his father looking as pale as a ghost. The door to the bathroom was open, and you were standing in the doorway. You looked from Bruce to Damian and smiled warmly.
"Good morning, Damian! Are you excited for my birthday breakfast?"
The End.
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Taglist
@justafanficsreader
@seaweed-orchid
@0-n-1-x
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#batman#batmom#batmom imagines#damian wayne x reader#dc comics#dick grayson x batmom#jason todd x batmom#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#batfam x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader#red hood#robin#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson#batman x reader#batfamily#nightwing
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More Dethklok headcanons:
How I imagine each of their morning routines go.
•Nathan: Nathan likes his routine. He’s a a regular guy. If he’s not waking up screaming from a night long prophetic nightmare, he usually gets up around the same time every day, unless he’s hungover or feeling lazy. He strikes me as the type to go shower, then grabs the outfit he wore the previous day, sniff it, and then put it back on. He pretty much wears the same shit each day and choosing an outfit wastes time, in his opinion. If he doesn’t have to go anywhere then he just goes to the kitchen in his boxers and robe to drink from the milk carton. Then he likes to read the news paper, while wearing his glasses, and drinking his black coffee. He stares into the void for awhile, not talking, just clearing his throat or grunting while making a mental check list of what he needs to get done that day. I think Nathan tries his best out of everyone to be organized, the best he can at least. Nathan is one of those guys that would have a stupid mug that says ‘don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ or ‘not a morning person’. Some dumb Spencer’s type of shitty mug.The guys got it for him as a joke but he uses it anyway.
•Pickles: Pickles wakes up hungover, surrounded by beer cans, probably passed out behind the couch or in some really weird position that hurts his neck. He sits and stares at the wall for a few minutes, gets up to go puke, then heads to the kitchen to search for more beer. Pickles never learns, or he just doesn’t care. Charles just stands there shaking his head. Pickles has a bed but he hardly wakes up in it. He falls asleep in bed a lot and then finds himself passed out somewhere random, usually on the floor in the living room or his bathroom. He never remembers too much of the previous night and that’s okay. He likes blacking out. He doesn’t usually eat breakfast when he has a hangover and just finds random snacks to munch on until he feels a little better.
•Murderface: The first and I mean very first thing Murderface does when his eyes open each morning is jack off (with his bass playing hand). Then after a round of that he turns on the tv. Sometime later he probably joins Pickles who’s sitting at the table in his underwear. Murderface likes to have breakfast even if no one else is, so he has Jean Pierre cook him something right away. Murderface usually sits at the table, stabbing away at the surface with his knife, and talks at whoever is up. Pickles, who’s too hungover to even comprehend what he’s saying, and Nathan, who’s sitting off to the side silently doing a cross word puzzle. Murderface doesn’t care if they aren’t listening, he just likes to talk and hates awkward silences. When Nathan is done with the newspaper Murderface asks for it so he can read the obituaries. “I jusht like to schee who’s died lately…you know, caush I’m up at the crack of dawn, living my life, and they’re jusht dead! Ha! Fuck em!”
•Toki: When Toki wakes up, he always checks his Dethphone to see if he has any missed calls or messages from Dr Rockso. Toki likes to take those dumb morning selfies and send them to the Dethklok group chat. He usually says the same thing every time like ‘just workes up! Good mornings!’ and only Charles or Nathan responds because it’s so early. Toki wakes up the earliest because his body is used to it. As a child he had to be up before the sun in order to begin the family chores, so I feel like he’s usually up and going long before everyone else. He also can’t fall back asleep unless he’s hungover. Toki likes to have some quiet time with just himself for awhile, working on his model airplanes or coloring. He loves the guys but sometimes he likes to be by himself where it’s quiet and no one’s arguing. I think he also talks to himself or to his stuffed animals while he’s building his models, telling them about his nightmares or what he wants to do that day. Sometimes he just goes on rants and feels better afterwards. “Man I reallys hopes Dr Rockso nots in the slammer again! I donts know what’s to tells that guy! He nevers listens to Toki! I just tries to helps him cause he ams my friend!” Toki also has to take his insulin, which he’s gotten the hang of now since Charles instructed him to do it. He hardly misses a shot, knowing he feels better if he takes them. Sometimes though he can’t resist those sugary kid’s cereals and he’ll eat a big bowl of cereal and then take his insulin right away. He knows it’s risky but he likes sugar too much. The guys all stand there staring at him, making sure he doesn’t go into a diabetic coma. Murderface will wait around just a little longer than everyone else, you know just in case ‘hambuger time’ happens.
•Skwisgaar also gets up early. When he’s waking up alone and not in the company of the women who sleep over, he likes to get out of bed right away so he doesn’t depress himself by lying there and staring at the ceiling, wasting precious time that could be spent practicing guitar. He goes and takes a piss, showers, then spends forever brushing his hair and doing some kind of skin routine, but he doesn’t let anyone else know. Dude literally hides his facial stuff and face masks so no one asks about them. If anyone does see them, he usually says something like one of the ladies he was seeing that night left it. “Oh ja, dis sluts from de nights before leaves alls her shit in my rooms…so I’s just keeps it for a reminders how goods dat ah sexual intimasky was that day. It’s likes a trophy.”After he finishes with his hair and stuff, Skwisgaar sits and practices guitar until his hands are sore. If he’s not hurting himself is he really playing to his full potential?! He has a weird obsession with outdoing himself from his last practice session, pressuring himself to be better and faster each time. If he can’t play the fastest he won’t be the best. He has to be the best. Once his hands are too sore it motivates him to leave his room so he doesn’t fall into a hole of self criticism over his guitar playing. When he’s around others he’s the biggest show off about how good he is at guitar and he knows it, but on occasion even he doubts himself. And being alone and second guessing himself can be too much first thing in the morning, so he joins the guys in the kitchen. He usually has black coffee like Nathan and probably toast or something.
#dethklok#metalocalypse#dethklok headcanon#headcanons#toki wartooth#skwisgaar skwigelf#nathan explosion#pickles the drummer#william murderface#skwistok#charles offdensen#i love these guys#writing#writing dump
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Desperate Housewives Thoughts:
Ok so i am only in the middle of season 2 but this show has become my new obsession!!
Gaby: probably my favourite character. in my mother’s words she is at her best when she is being awful. she’s fiesty, funny and selfish but sharp. i love her little machinations and her constant plotting either to get what she wants or against Carlos. aside from her affair with John (which was super uncomfortable) i always enjoy her scenes. her fighting with that nun, and her and Carlos’s arguments are easily some of the best moments of the show. Carlos is an ass and their relationship is a trainwreck but thats what makes them so entertaining. especially when they are being awful to each other.
Bree: funnily enough the reason i started watching this show was because i saw twitter talking about her and andrew’s turbulent relationship and it has not disappointed me so far. I love her so much more than i originally thought i would. we completely differ on politics but i can relate to how repressed she is and her discomfort with any kind of public emotion. who hasn’t turned the tap on and cried in the bathroom and then pretended it never happened. like how can you not love her? also her speech about freud not only cemented my love for her, it made me realise that i was going to really really love this show.
Edie: what can i say? every moment she is on the screen is PURE GOLD. what other character has every been so iconic and unapologetic while casually committing arson. i also love her hidden vulnerability and the fact that she is desperate for some friendship but would die before admitting it. only complaint is that she needs to be in more scenes. they don’t make characters like her anymore.
Susan: lmao i know its really common and popular to hate on her but she she always makes me laugh. at best her clumsiness leads to funny moments and at worst she is mildly annoying. sometimes you just want to sit her down and tell her to get a grip lol.
Mary-Alice: i dont know if this was done on purpose but i love how slowly over time her tone becomes less serious and more amused by her friends antics. like she is removed from some of these emotions she had when she was alive. the longer time she is dead the more removed she thinks like human. drives home the point that she is looking in from the outside. she is dead and has become less attached to the worries and squabbles that plague the living.
Lynette: easily my least favourite housewife purely because everything about her life is my worst nightmare. every scene with her husband and kids raised my blood pressure. i think her family situation and life are so common in reality which tbh makes her story the most depressing imo. i like her better in s2 when she is working and her storylines don’t revolve around her family all the time.
Felicia Tillman- very cynical but i love her little monologue about about people being vultures and the fact that she gave martha’s dentures as an engagement gift to edie lol. absolutely insane thing to do.
Martha Huber- lmao what a nightmare. but i loved how her first solution for everything was to resort to blackmail lol.
Betty Applewhite- a brilliant actress who was wasted on this storyline tbh
Tom Scavo- HATE THIS MAN!!!!
#im suprised this show isn't more popular especially on tumblr#especially bc it has all the things tumblr claims to love and wants to see more of#like terrible women doing terrible things lol#but tbh im glad cause the discourse would be unbearable lol#i do love the premise of the show though#how all these women live these lives of quiet desperation despite so most them living the lives that women are apparently meant to aspire to#marriage and kids and rich husband#and it is only through their friendship with other women and relying on each other that keeps them sane#and from giving in to the desperation#desperate housewives
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Opportune
My Cruel Kidnapper: Chapter Seven
Yandere! Jungkook
Summary: You see the chance to escape. Freedom is right there. But should you take it?
Trigger warnings: Imprisonment, restraints, threats, violence, kidnapping, swearing, abuse. 18+ readers only.
A/n: If you are new to this story, please go to the cover page for the chapter list and the story disclaimer. 18+ readers only.
Enjoy. 💜💜💜
Previous Chapter
Your mind is at war.
He shouldn't have been able to do that to you. You shouldn't have felt that kind of way- not with him.
Laying in a whimpering, tear-soaked mess, you're in pain, filled with self-pity, and racked by guilt that you can not entirely understand. Feeling as if you are being consumed by a numb void until Jungkook comes out of the bathroom and once again, all your attention goes to him.
"Are you just going to lay in bed crying all day?" He scoffs accusedly. Seeming frustrated, almost repulsed by your crying.
I can't move, you ass! is what you scream at him- but only in your mind. You didn't go through all of that to derail your plans now. You need to do what you can to grit your teeth and bear it. Don't fight him. Be appeasing. Wait until an opportune moment, or until you are saved.
In place of any kind of truthful remark, you stay silent. Sighing in defeat as you sink your head deeper into the pillow. Your gaze fixated on the blank ceiling.
Coming into your eye line Jungkook jumps onto the bed, throwing his leg over your waist. While you restrain yourself enough at first, as his hand reaches up to your cheeks you can not keep yourself from bucking away.
"You know, it's cute how you always flinch." He laughs, roughly grabbing the sides of your face to insist that you comply.
The smug look he has fills your chest with a fit of white, hot anger. Eating you from the inside out. Does he think this is entertaining?! Is he having fun?! What if he were the one being treated like this? If he were the one who couldn't fight back? He would flinch. He would cry too! And then to mock you on top of that? He is irredeemable. You hate him so much.
His lingering touch slowly raises up, caressing along your arms, making too much-unwanted contact as he uncuffs you. When finally he climbs off your lap, you spring upright, quickly adjusting your shirt. Pulling it down as low as you can take it. Trying to ignore the cold, wet, sticky feeling that is pooled between your legs.
Sat there, consumed with a mix of visceral emotions as you rub your bruised wrists, the one you can feel the most is anxiety. You're obsessed with every move he's making, anticipating anything he might do. Every single thing he has done so far has been nightmare-ish. And you can't shake the fear that it is only going to keep getting worse.
Flinching again, you yelp softly in reaction to him throwing something at you. Harmlessly landing on the bed, though, is a pair of boy-cut shorts.
"You want to wear them?" He points to the underwear.
It takes a second for your mind to race through what he said, what the possible negative ramifications might be, and what to say back. You're so traumatised that even a simple gesture has you second-guessing everything. You decide on nothing as a response and waste no time getting off his bed and putting on the additional clothing. They're too big, they sit like bicycle shorts on you. But for the first time in days, you feel somewhat protected.
It feels strangely wonderful. You never would have expected how consequential underwear or pants were until you were in this very specific, very vulnerable situation.
He's standing in front of you dressed in grey sweat pants and a loose white tee. His hair is still wet from his shower, and it's even darker because of it. It's spiked up at strange angles from his hand running through it. He's watching you again with that zoned-out stare that he has. Making you shift uncomfortably. Looking in any other direction to avoid making eye contact.
"I just realized I haven't fed you yet." He gasps. "You must be starving." You can see his thoughts trail off and a smirk creeps it's way onto his face. "Well, I haven't fed you food anyway," he blurts out under his breath, his smirk turning to a full smile, verging on a laugh.
What a pig.
Holding his hand out he turns to the door, but steps further towards you, motioning for you to take his offer. "Com'on, I'll make you something to eat."
Now that he has finally mentioned food you're realizing that you haven't eaten in 2 and a half days. You are starving, but with everything else that has been going on, food has been the last thing on your mind. Even now, you feel more queasy than hungry.
Reluctantly you accept his hand, gnawing the inside of your cheek to try to curtail your disgusted expression. Despite your subtle attempts to wriggle out of his grip, he doesn't let go until he sits you down at the kitchen bench.
Observing him cook, smelling the onions, ham, and mushrooms sizzling in the pan you're nearly salivating. Never would you have thought a simple omelette could look so appetizing.
The moment he sets the plate in front of you, however, something distant catches your eye. On the other side of the kitchen, just out of your reach is an unattended chef's knife. Jungkook has sat down at the far end of the bench to your right. There is nothing between it and you at this moment.
Your mind starts working a hundred miles a minute. With where he is sitting he could never reach you before you were able to get to it.
This is too golden of a chance to pass it up. But you can't simply lunge for it. If you miss or knock it onto the floor he'll surely realize what you're trying, and you'll be without the knife to protect yourself.
Fear of missing such a perfect shot makes your heart start to beat in your ears. You can't screw this up!
Planning your moves you accidentally get food on your hand. You lick it clean, but fake and mime as if there is an excess amount of stickiness left. Standing up without a word, you walk as paced as possible to the other side of the benchtop, hoping he thinks you are just going to the sink. Hoping that your sub-par acting stops Jungkook from being suspicious.
And he isn't. He doesn't bat an eye. He doesn't even seem to be paying any attention.
This is your chance!
Snatching the knife, you hold it at arm's length in Jungkook's direction. Tightly clenching it between your two palms. Standing strong and braced. But he doesn't react. He's hardly moved. Only his elbow is lifted up resting on the bench. Looking at you with lacklustre disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. His expression looking to ask you wouldn't be that stupid, would you?
Disregarding you, he returns to his breakfast. Completely unphased.
Uncertainty hits you like an oncoming truck.
You're already shaking with terror, but his lack of reaction is causing an emotion in you that is so intense and raw that you have to stifle the urge to be sick.
"Hey!" You shriek, "Don't look away from me! You- unless you want to be stabbed you should- you need to put your hands down. On the table. Put them flat." Mentally you berate yourself for sounding so unfocused and weak. This isn't the tone you wanted to take.
Unbothered, Jungkook looks up again. A small, closed mouth smile telling you how unintimidating he finds you. It's infuriating because it means that he's not taking you seriously. As if he doesn't see the weapon in your hands. As if he thinks you're not capable of hurting him.
Straightening up you take a half-step forward. Small cracks click from your stiff back as you try to appear taller and more confident.
"Now!" You howl, using volume to further assert your authority. Hoping to god that he can't see the shake in your hands.
Restaining a laugh, he raises his hands in a playful surrender, laying them as you instructed, palms flat on the bench. Not taking his eyes off you as he does. Not even blinking.
It's completely disorientating.
Maybe this was a bad idea. You don't know that if it comes down to you versus him that you can beat him. Even with a weapon. You panicked when you saw it just sitting there. Maybe you shouldn't have done this. He doesn't seem worried at all. How are you supposed to beat crazy?
"Now what?" he snickers.
You just- you just have to figure out how to get out of here. You have to follow through. He must have a key to the front door.
"Give me the keys," You demand, keeping the knife firmly in between the two of you as a source of protection. Trying to ignore his wide-eyed, unblinking stare.
"What keys?" He teases, his voice raising.
Oh god! Why isn't this working? Why isn't he doing what you say?
You're starting to wheeze. This is insane. What is he going to do to you if this doesn't work? What happens if you don't get out of here? This was such a bad fucking idea!
"Stop!" Your voice cracks. Your heavy breaths fill your words. "You know what keys I'm talking about. The ones for the front door. Give' em. Now!"
You need to get out of here this instant. You're beyond petrified. You have to rid the doubt from your mind. You have the power. You have the knife. You're fine. I'm going to get out of here. Stay focused. You'll be safe and won't have to think about Jungkook ever again once you're free.
He doesn't respond. Inch by inch you move around the bench until you come the end and only open space is standing between you and Jungkook. You know to stay back. You can't give him any chance to grab you.
"Jungkook. Now!" All strength disappears and all that is left is a plead.
"No." His casual reply makes your head spin. The ground falling out from under you.
"What are you talking about?" You squeal. On the brink of tears. Barely able to hold yourself together let alone keep up a facade of dominance. "Give me the keys. Now! Or I'll stab you!"
You have a knife. You're finally the one in control. He's supposed to say yes not no. He's supposed to be scared.
"Go on then; stab me." He shrugs. His aloof, cold demeanour pushes you past panic and helps you focus your rage and momentarily shore your voice, giving it much needed steadiness and power.
"Listen here, you fucking lunatic. You have put me through hell, and I swear to God if you don't give me the key right now, I am going to-" he talks over you. Loudly and firmly cutting you off.
"No, you listen you stupid bitch. Because I'm going to give you one chance, just one chance to put down your little toy and then get on your knees like a good girl." His smile becomes wide and toothy. He is revelling in this. In his threat. In your fear. "Or you can keep this up and see how all those scary things I said I could do become reality."
You're wringing the handle but for a second you almost lose your grip on the knife. You're trembling. Your knees are weak. It feels as if you could collapse with just a tap. A replaying of every horrid, terrifying thing he has threatened begins to flit through your head. And for a split instant, you have the thought to do what he says. To throw down the knife, drop to your knees, and beg his forgiveness. Beg him not to hurt you. To not kill you.
But you can't. You see the cruelty in his eye. The sparkle of enjoyment. You don't trust that he won't hurt you. And you know that should he keep his word and not retaliate, this psycho doesn't think some of what he has done is harming you. Even in the best-case scenario where he gives you full amnesty, he is still going to force himself on you again. He's still going to tie you down again. To touch you again. And given time he is still going to hit you again. And surely he will end up killing you.
And once this opportunity is gone, he will certainly be even more careful going forward.
No. It's now or never. You have to get out. You just have to!
"Jungkook," Your voice is uncontrollably coming out as a hushed, timid whisper. "Please just give me the keys." you plead again.
His eyes are boring their malicious nature into yours. Reading you. Giving you the chance to rethink your answer and cave to his demands. But you don't accept.
"Fine." He states. His icy calm sends a shiver down your neck. Slowly he slips his hand into his pants pocket keeping his palm open and in view the whole time, showing you exactly what he is doing. He pulls out a bundle of keys that are all looped together, holding them in his forefinger and thumb. Crassly he sets them on the bench and slides them over to you.
This is it!
A ripple of excitement and fear attacks you as you snatch them up. Seizing the keys to your freedom.
In a thoughtless reaction, you stumble back, preparing to bolt to the front door, but catch yourself. You need to make sure Jungkook can't follow you. You have to be smart.
"Stand!" You bark. To your disdain, that goddamned smirk has returned to his face. But thankfully he does as you say. "Move," You point to the far door in the kitchen. The one that leads down the hallway into the dungeon-like room.
He follows your instruction slowly. Too slowly. You're planted firmly and buzzing with impatience but you don't follow after him until he reaches the first door, keeping a sufficient distance between you two. He opens the door and takes a step down the dark hallway, turning over his shoulder to look back at you.
"Go." You demand, deathly strangling the handle.
After what feels like an eternity filled with time that could allow for everything to go wrong, he, at last, opens the door at the end of the hallway giving you a final cold glance.
You're so close to crumbling. You haven't breathed the whole time. This needs to be over.
Belatedly the door closes and you sprint down the hall after him, twisting the lock shut. A heavy clunk sealing him in.
You did it!
He's trapped. You're free!
With all of your pent up energy you turn and bolt down the hallway into the light. Into the kitchen. Skidding the corner, your run past the bench tossing the knife into the sink making your hands free to properly handle the keys.
Through the living room into the entrance hall, you don't stop running and instead come to a halt as you make contact with the door. Slowing just enough to not hurt yourself.
Thumbing through the bundle, you're trying to find the most logical choice for which key could fit the lock. They all are mostly the same. Plain, silver, metal keys. But you choose the first that has a slight defining notch in it and place it to the lock. However, your hand is shaking so much that you are unable to insert it.
Scolding yourself, you chant a mantra to calm down. Breath. Calm. You're about to be free. Just breath.
Steadying your grip you attempt again. You place the key and it fits, but it doesn't turn.
That's okay, there are half-a-dozen here. One of them will work.
You take the next key and try it in both directions. It doesn't work. Then you try the next key and that one doesn't turn either. One by one you go through 5 more and not one of them opens. All of them are useless!
Every minuscule piece of restraint that you gathered together goes up in flames. Hysteria sends your chest into a wild rattling and you nearly collapse to the floor. Your body surges with an ache, every time your heart beats.
They don't work? How could they not work?!
Think calmly. Rationally. Please Y/n keep it together.
It's fine. They have to open something. They have to. There has to be a back door or a window. These keys will open something. And the worst-case scenario, if the keys don't work on any lock, you have Jungkook trapped. He isn't going anywhere. You have time to break a window or find a phone.
Your phone!
You can't believe it's taken you this long to think of it. You had your phone in your backpack and you know your backpack came here with you because you were wearing it when he pulled you into the car.
If you can find your backpack, you can find your phone and you can call the police.
You have no idea where it is, but you have time to look.
From the entrance hall, there are 6 possible directions. The front door, the small bedroom, the downstairs bathroom, the stairs, and the hall to the living room. The 6th door is one you have never seen past.
Opening it, it leads you into the laundry. You nearly scream in elation as you find a heavy wooden door with a small window at head height. It's a door outside!
You turn the knob and predictably find no easy escape. Cycling through the keys again your heart sinks just that little further as none of them work to your advantage. Frustration fills you to the brim and you scream in anger, slamming your fists over and over, beating anything you can make contact with.
Why can't you just get out of here?!
Using that frustration you run in search throughout the remainder of the house, looking for any signs of your phone. Your sights first set on his room. You tear through his belongings. Ripping the room to shreds hoping to find your bag, or more keys, or anything. But after several minutes of scouring, left hot and sweating and panting, you have nothing to show for it but a sea of mess surrounding you.
Y/n think. He isn't going to leave it anywhere you could find it. He's not that stupid. You're getting caught up and not thinking straight. Trying to find your phone is not the way to go. You need to focus on getting out of here first. There has to be a window behind that heavy curtain in the living room and a heavy chair should be able to do enough damage to get you free.
Calm down and think logically.
You take a step towards the door and your body crashes into the carpet. Your knees are too unstable to hold you. Your mind is swallowed by fear. You just can't believe that you're not out yet. It's been nearly 10 minutes. You were supposed to be free by now! No stuck wandering your prison!
What if Jungkook breaks the door down? What if he catches you? Oh, God! What would he do to you?
You're driving yourself crazy with these thoughts. Get free Y/n. Find a window and get free.
Burling down the stairs, your legs can hardly keep up with your momentum. In your head, you're picturing the broken open window you are about to create. You just need to throw the heavy black material to the side. Hell, one of these keys may even work on that back door.
You're going to get out.
No sooner than your foot touches the bottom step you see something incomprehensible.
Your body slams to a halt like you've hit a brick wall.
Jungkook.
No! How?! Your head is rampant with so many intrusive thoughts that you can't make a steady idea.
He's leaning against the hall entrance, his thick arms folded. Eyeing you with a haunting malevolence that you thought you'd never have to see again.
"How?" Is all you can manage. Your restraint breaking, a flood of tears letting loose down your cheeks.
Uncrossing his arms in a showy display, he lets you see a small black key in his palm. A boisterous laugh accompanying your wide-eyed despair.
Your vision is blurry, your ears are ringing. Oh God, please, someone save me.
There isn't any other choice but to run. You're so beyond fucked, the only hope you have is to hide and pray his anger subsides.
Quickly scanning around the room, you make the fast decision to retreat up the stairs. His bedroom was unsuccessful last time, but if you can drag the chest of draws in front of the door, that might barricade the room well enough. Or you can try the second upstairs bedroom. You know the window is too high from up there, but maybe you will be able to attract attention from anyone nearby if you scream loud enough. That room has a chair you can use to block the door. You just have to move fast.
Your darting look gives away your intentions. Seeing Jungkook notice your mental plan, you don't waste any time reacting. Stretching your legs as far as they will go, forcing as much power into them as possible, you bolt.
As you move so does Jungkook. But you're closer to the stairs than him. You're certain that you'll make it.
Just when your foot connects with the bottom step a painful large chunk of your loose hair is caught. Instantly yanking you back, pulling you off the stairs onto the floor.
Drawn up through your hair, Jungkook hoists you onto your feet. Gasping in pain, you're unable to vocalize anything more. Hanging limply as he lifts you to the point of extension that your tiptoes just touch the floor.
You want to thrash and kick and fight. But you can't. You've no control over your body anymore. A fear-induced disconnect is separating your limbs from your mind. All you can manage is to limply push against his chest, trying to shove him away.
His dark, horrid chuckle fills your ringing ears and with his free hand he holds up the black key and demonstratively puts it in his pocket. Slowly, he lowers his face to yours, breaking past your barricading hands at his chest. His mouth resting just above your ear.
"You're going to wish you did what I told you."
#yandere bts#bts reactions#yandere bangtan#bts smut#yandere#bts fanfic#bangtan#bts requests#bangtan reactions#bts#jungkook x reader#jungkook#bts jungkook#bts yandere#yandere jungkook#bangtan smut#bts fan fiction#bangtan reaction
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ok but a character on halloween who thinks individually wrapped candies are wasteful
they buy a fuckton of candy without wrappers to share with their friends. they eat candy out of bowls, watch some movies together, stay up late and have a good time
but at the end of the night there's all this candy sitting out in the open... and they'd hate to throw it all away
so they spend the rest of the night mindlessly watching halloween movies and munching on this candy, and at a certain point it stops being enjoyable but they keep eating, being too distracted to remember that they've already had too much
even when the sugar sits in their esophagus they still nauseously swallow down more sweet candy, because just one more couldn't hurt... and one more after that... and one more...
eventually they realize they're starting to feel genuinely sick and really need to stop. the middle of their belly is beginning to cramp badly, unused to so much sugar. when they touch their aching stomach, they're painfully aware of the sour-sweet taste shooting up their throat... that was way too much candy. they push the bowl as far away from themself as possible and go back to watching tv, though too distracted by the cramps in their midsection to enjoy it
but after a few minutes they forget that their stomach had ever been unsettled, and shove a handful of candy corn in their mouth
this does not go over well, and they have to cover their mouth to keep from vomiting as they painstakingly chew, swallow, chew, swallow all that sugar
realizing that if the candy stays out they'll only eat until they're violently sick, the character finally realizes they could put the candy in a sealable container
but their stomach is feeling so unwell.... they close their computer, and when there's nothing to distract them, all they notice is how upset all that candy has made their stomach. they gently lay a hand on their belly. it's so sensitive that their touch almost stings. they repeatedly swallow back the acidic sensation in the back of their throat in vain. there are no gurgles of digestion, just the burning sensation of a stomach full of nothing but sugar. they realize with a sickening lurch that they must have eaten a whole jumbo bag of candy...
they feel so, so nauseous, and the sight of candy only makes it worse. they turn away, their stomach turning inside them
they clutch their upset tummy, rubbing and massaging it, trying to coax it into some digestion. groaning inadvertently, they feel like an idiot for having eaten so much candy they can barely digest. when their stomach lets out a few sickly gurgles, they massage it a bit more, hoping they might (albeit slowly and painfully) be able to digest all this sugar.
they feel the need to burp, but aren't sure whether to trust it. there's no bucket nearby in case things go wrong... but they're so tired, and after another groan-inducing cramp from their upset tummy, they're ready to go through with anything that could bring their belly some relief. feeling a rising sensation in their throat, they open their mouth...
and, with a loud burp, spew vomit all over their floor.
they clutch their stomach, unable to stop another stream of vomit that lasts until they can barely breathe. they take a deep breath, then heave up another mouthful of thick, undigested sugar. burping nauseously, they debate whether they can cross the distance to the bathroom... then accidentally burp up another drizzle of liquid all over the front of their shirt. they can't help but groan, too tired and sick to move, hunched over, slowly regurgitating mouthful after mouthful of their poor stomach's contents.
the cleanup is going to be a nightmare... and they still feel too sick to move...
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𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄
type of bed:
A canopy with pink and purple accents woven in. It was gifted from the men of G5 for one of her birthdays and also celebrating her rank from sergeant to captain. She really hates it but functionally, the canopy and curtains keep the bed warmer, and screen it from light and sight. The canopy bed came to be from a concern for her well being and privacy, since she's the only woman in the base.
number of blankets:
A knitted one that comes from her past. Yes, it's screams emo Dracula vibes and has a shape of a cross next to a giant Yoru picture but it reminds her of her second home of living in Kuraigana island.
number of pillows:
Too many to count. Some are animal shaped like penguins, rabbits, geckos and foxes. The men of G5 keeps buying her them, claiming her to be a princess. But she rather be the pea, because Tashigi cannot sleep with her sinking into the bed, like it's going to swallow her up every night.
type of clothing:
Athletic sportswear tank top and gray to light gray sweatpants that have words on the sides of them. She is the most comfy and relaxed while sleeping and doesn't have any hair ties so it goes down past her shoulders and there are no glasses in sight.
does it matter where they sleep?:
She can't sleep if there is a lot of noise. Being on decks and other public places really stresses her out normally so it's uped to eleven when she is trying to sleep and is less guarded.
what do they do if they cannot fall asleep?:
She goes out and trains her swordwomanship. Why waste time panicking if you can use that hour or two productively. Also exercise is a good way to make someone tired if they do it long enough. She has to be careful not to pass out while not in her room though since Tashigi has done that several times before.
frequent dreams, nightmares:
Good dreams are when she obtains the Wado Ichimonji and finally beats Zoro or that he takes her seriously and ends her. 99 percent of nightmares are Zoro focused. Mostly of him dying before she herself can be the one to kill him. Others are that her shirt pops open and everyone can see her chest. She's really self conscience so any outfit malfunction is very nightmarish to Tashigi.
deep slumber or naps:
Mostly naps. Her job doesn't allow too much sleep as they are always in high alert. Their duty to hunt down pirates is somewhat of a 24/7 job as the offending parties don't really rest and neither does justice.
when do they sleep:
They will sleep when they are dead.....or if someone forces her to take a day off to catch up. She spends the whole day in bed and doesn't get up unless Tashigi needs a bathroom break. Is totally starving on the next and can eat about most anything, she's that hungry.
what could wake them up:
Someone trying to take her swords. They are more valuable than her own life. You mess with the blades, they are going right through anyone that dares touch them without her permission. Otherwise: Roronoa Zoro :3
tagged by: @ravarui tagging: @sozokami @kaizokugaris @electricea @cauterisen @flambace @melodysian @hauntedreality @celestiialnotes and whoever else wants to do it c:
#death tw#death cw#long post cw#long post tw#[ I'm not playing around. DASH GAMES ]#[ I'll collect all the grade swords from the hands of criminals. HEADCANON ]#religious imagery cw#religious imagery tw#tashigi is mihawk's daughter theory#violence tw#violence cw#animals cw#animals tw#suggestive cw#suggestive tw#let me know if more needs to be tagged
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I CANT THINK OF TITLES TO SAVE MY LIFE BUT I WROTE CASSANDRA FLUFF???????!!!! I THINK ITS FLUFF IDK IM DUMB
This has been in my drive for about 2 months, i wrote this because i hc the girls hate to take baths, have u seen how dirty they are in game? In desperate need of a bath fr 😭😭
—————
"Get in the bathtub Cassandra"
"make me"
"Cassandra, you're all bloody and dirty, the last time you had a bath was 3 days ago!"
"I don't need a bath that often!"
“Yes you do! Come here right now Cassandra ” you were losing patience, you didn't understand how she could be so maddeningly stubborn, it was just a bath! Sometimes you could swear she was half cat
"I don't want to take a bath!" She protested without moving an inch from where you had dragged her to the bathroom door
You tried a different approach "Cassie please" you said in a softer sweet tone "It’s just the way you like it, all hot and steamy, with your favorite scent and extra bubbles"
Cassandra looked at you for a moment, you almost jumped in victory when she watched her think for a moment "No." she said finally, with a final tone.
This bitch-
You were about to scream in frustration
An evil idea entered your head, an excellent idea.
"So you wont get in the bathtub?"
"Nope"
"How sad" you said with false pity and began to undress slowly without taking your eyes off cassandra "I would have loved to join you, but I guess that wont happen, and we shouldn't waste a perfectly good bath, should we?”
Cassandra watched you undress, her jaw tense and hands fisted at her sides. She stared at you as each layer of clothing fell to the ground till you were all naked in front of her.
"What's wrong? Why so tense?" You asked with fake innocence. Cassandra growled in response and glared at you
God, she had no right to look so hot all angry and grumpy.
"This is not fair!"
“What's not fair? I'm just going to take a bath, the bath you refused, you know?"
“You’re manipulating me!”
"Think what you want, please close the door when you leave, I get cold"
Cassandra stood at the door for a few seconds, and you waited for what you knew would be your victory as you slowly entered the bathtub, once you were seated and comfortable, you moaned loudly in satisfaction on purpose.
"Good! I'll take the damn bath! But I won't take a bath again!”
“Get your pale, stinky ass in here already, Cassandra. Tantrums don't suit you" a shit-eating smile on your face
Cassandra growled again and began to take off her clothes with annoyance and too much force, you could hear the seams of her dress ripping a little and you sighed knowing that you would be the one to mend it later, you would not bother Lady Beneviento for this nonsense
The brunette approached the bathtub grumpy and naked and you indicated the space in front of you
"But I want to sit behind you!"
The death glare you gave her made her snap her mouth shut and scramble into the tub, muttering curses under her breath.
When she sat in front of you you pulled her close to your chest "So stubborn, Cassie" You took pity on the poor woman (probably half cat) and kissed her pale shoulder "If you let me clean you up in peace, I promise you can take your reward later ” you whispered the last part in her ear in a low and suggestive tone, biting the shell of her ear
"Fine" she murmured with a small blush creeping up her chest.
You smiled and began the hard work of washing her, taking a soft sponge and soap you rubbed it all over her body, removing the blood and grime, after her body was soaped and clean, you moved on to her hair, the knots would be a nightmare to comb , the water became increasingly cloudy and dark
“My God Cassandra, and you really didn't want to take a bath. Look at that water”
To her dismay her cheeks turned a little pink with embarrassment at how dirty she was and she looked down in the tub with a frown.
You kissed her cheek lovingly "Okay Cassie, get up and let's change the water"
And so about 15 minutes later you were back in the bathtub, this time with clean water you washed her hair again and just as it started, the bath (or Cassandra's torture) was over. You helped her out of the tub and you both dried off before wrapping yourselves in a robe.
"You see? It wasn't too bad- Cassandra!" You screeched when she hoisted you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "What are you doing?!"
"claim my reward," she said proudly. Oh and what a reward it was for both of you, it was worth all that struggle.
The reward was a toe curling head ofc slayyyyyy
Cant believe the first thing i post of Cassandra isnt smut? 🤨
#cassandra dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu x reader#dimi daughters hate baths#they’re stinky 🥴#didn’t check this before publishing sorry beforehand
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The Barren Ground
Here’s a little post-MJ pre-GBT drabble I wrote for kicks. Covers the span of time before Peeta returns to D12 after the war concludes.
The Victor’s Village looks the same.
12 houses lined in a row with lingering heaps of late winter snow covering the ground. There’s the fountain. There’s Haymitch’s house. And mine.
Peeta’s too, but he’s not here.
It’s just me and the old drunk now. Two more ghosts to add to the collection. Haymitch goes to his house and I go to mine. The closing of the door feels like the sealing of my tomb.
I don’t wander the halls or check the pantry. I don’t visit the rooms. I know what I’ll find there.
Or rather, what I won’t.
I just let my body fall to the couch and drift into that strange space between sleeping and waking where nothing feels real anymore.
And maybe if I don’t move, if I don’t have to look at the place where she walked and lived and smiled and breathed, then it won’t be real. And maybe if I don’t sleep then, I won’t see her face in my nightmares. Or any of their faces.
I sit, barely blinking, barely breathing, until the sun dips low in the sky and the light fades.
I bring my knees up to my chest and settle in for a long night of fighting the exhaustion and the monsters lurking at the edge of my vision.
But I’m so tired of fighting.
How long will it take?
Until I’m haunting this place just like the rest of them.
The ones I couldn’t save.
The ones that should be here, instead of me.
I hope it doesn’t take too long.
~
Days pass without number. I don’t really feel them. I drift most of them away. Sleeping, but not deeply. It's more like skimming the waters of unconsciousness. It has the added benefit of keeping me awake at night. I’ve taken to sleeping during the day like Haymitch. The nightmares aren’t any less horrible, but when I scream myself awake it's a little less jarring when I open my eyes to late afternoon sunlight.
Sae sometimes shakes me awake if she’s around when I’m having them.
But it embarrasses me. To see the concern on her worn face looking down at me.
I tell her to leave me be if she hears me thrashing in my sleep.
She doesn’t say anything, just insists on sitting with me until I finish the food she made.
My stomach starts to hurt and cramp before I’m halfway through.
But I stuff it down, to placate her.
She leaves after that, saying she’ll be back tomorrow, as always.
I make it three minutes before I’m up and scrambling for the bathroom.
The broth and crackers come back up with a vengeance, splattered all over the inside of the porcelain bowl.
I cry for the first time in…I can’t remember.
I lay on the tiles, guilt crushing me into almost nothing.
I hate wasting food.
~
I barely make it back to the couch. My head is pounding from losing my dinner and from all the crying.
I try to let myself drift off, like before, but the pounding in my head makes it impossible to empty my mind of anything but the awareness of pain.
It’s awful, but it brings a sort of clarity with it.
I realize that I don’t deserve to drift, unaware and numb. Any more than I deserved to live, or come back to twelve.
I deserve this pain and more.
I close my eyes and inhabit the same space as the pain, existing alongside it because there’s no cure for what I’ve done.
There’s no end to this.
~
Sae find me the next morning.
The headache broke sometime before morning, but it spent the night sinking its claws into me over and over again.
It left me more exhausted than usual and I had to return to the bathroom several times to dry heave until my body gave up bile and spit in place of the food it was trying to evict.
After I simply lay down with my face pressed against the tile, wishing for my mother, or Peeta, but knowing they wouldn’t come.
My mother has gone to four and Peeta is…well, Haymitch says he stayed in the Capitol to work with doctors to try and get over the hijacking.
But I often think it's another one of Haymitch’s lies.
He just doesn’t want me to know that Peeta’s never coming back to twelve.
Why would he?
There’s nothing for him here.
He didn’t kill a president.
He didn’t get his entire district bombed to rubble.
He didn’t get his friends and family tortured and killed.
He’s innocent. Unlike me.
It's good that he’s not here.
He deserves better. A new start.
I try not to think about whether he thinks about me, wherever he is.
There’s enough pain in my head, I don’t need it to work its way down to my chest as well.
~
“Look what Lina found this morning, hiding under the porch.” Sae’s voice breaks through whatever fog I’ve been caught in since the headache incident.
I look over at her and spy a very beat-up-looking orange tomcat in her arms.
I blink, thinking I’m somehow hallucinating this.
But when I look again he’s still there.
“Buttercup.” I half-whisper half-croak, voice hoarse from disuse.
“Looks like he found his way home.” She tells me before setting him down gently on the arm of the couch.
He looks terrible. Dirty, with matted fur and wild eyes.
We stare at each other for a breath, before he hisses and darts away, in the direction of Prim’s room.
I close my eyes against the sharp pain that shoots through me.
“She’s not here,” I say quietly, at first. But then, I say it again, my voice creaking but gaining strength.
“She’s not here,” I repeat, getting up off the couch and starting after the cat.
I fly by Sae, catching the thrown-off-guard look on her face, as I go.
“She’s not here!” I’m screaming now, and chasing after Buttercup.
I find him, clawing at Prim’s door, meowing plaintively.
“She’s not here! She’s not here! She’s GONE!”
He turns around and stares at me, hackles up, hissing, and his spine arching.
“PRIM’S GONE AND SHE'S NEVER COMING BACK!”
My voice is like thunder, crashing through the house.
I tug off my slipper and I throw it at the door, right next to his head but he doesn’t move. He just stays there, eyeing me from where I stand a few feet away. I throw the other and shout a curse at him, for good measure.
It has no effect.
It’s like he’s guarding her door.
Sae’s voice calls out from the end of the hall, worried.
I ignore her.
“She’s dead.” I croak, almost pleading, willing the stupid mangey beast to understand.
“Prim’s dead,” I say, voice cracking, breaking.
“It was me. All because of me.” I sob, right before collapsing to the ground.
“It’s all my fault,” I admit to Buttercup, because he already knows, has always known how awful I am. Ever since that first day when I tried to drown him, he’s seen me for who I really am. Nothing about me can shock him. We have no secrets from each other.
I cover my eyes and hold my head with my hands as I dissolve, into a puddle of guilt and self-hatred.
I hear Sae’s footsteps receding, she’s gone, no doubt to try and rouse Haymitch to come an deal with me. He advised her early on to not try and intervene with my victor episodes.
I scoff to myself.
Good luck. I think. He’s probably deep in his cups, halfway to unconsciousness by now.
There’s no one coming to help, no one coming back. Except this stupid cat, who for some reason traveled all the way from District 13 to be here. To come back to a home where his owner no longer lives. He’d probably keep searching too, if given the chance. He’s a beast, but he’s unyieldingly loyal.
I know I have to tell him the truth, make him understand or he’ll just wander the earth searching for someone he’ll never find.
“I killed her. I’m sorry.” I whisper at the cat who is still watching me through narrowed eyes.
I lower my head to my knees so I don’t have to look at him, or the door anymore. And I give myself up wholly to the tears that I know won’t really make anything better.
They never do, but I can’t seem to stop them. They run all over my face, and down my chin and shirt. I can feel that I’m a mess, without even having to look at myself, but I don’t care. There’s no one left for me to feel self conscious around.
I’m all alone here.
The realization only makes me sob harder. I cry like I haven’t since I was a child. Big ugly sobs, in between gulps of air, while my whole body shakes.
But then, out of nowhere, a small, soft, orange fur-covered head sneaks between my feet.
I can just make him out in my watery vision.
He’s inching closer, carefully.
He looks at me, with those ugly squash-colored eyes and surprisingly, the look isn’t full of hatred.
It’s not full of affection either.
But something more meaningful, to me, anyway.
It’s a reflection.
A shared kind of sorrow. He somehow understands my pain. He feels it too. The loss of her.
I shakily reach my hand out and Buttercup inclines his head ever so slightly.
And consents to be petted.
Well, the world must be in a sorry state if even we two have managed to make a truce between us.
But still, when he crawls closer and climbs into my lap, and lets me cry into his fur, I can’t help but be grateful, and feel a little less alone.
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La's Frerard theory
⚠️Make sure not to hate in the comments. If you're not interested chill out, go out!
This is a very important era. The fans started to really feel like it was actually happening. The evidences were getting much obvious, pretty soon they would tell us they were dating or something, right?
2007
If I chose to waste the past 10 years of my life to explain something, that would be that confusing year in my chem. There was no single moment these two weren't doing something onstage. Seriously, look at those pictures yourself and tell me if for an anti-homophobia message it wasn't too much:
Much weird, right? I mean. Not disgusting at all lol. But isn't it too much even for making the fans happy, to make homophobes mad, or anything else? There was not only inoffensive kisses, they were not even fast, and sexual things was happening too much. About the kisses, what's more interesting were those passionate ones:
Chronologically 1st one ->
2nd ->
There you could watch them doing it freely. Nothing to hide, nothing to care. Frank was single and so was Gerard. But why? Why when people asked them it turned into nothing? When it comes to the interviews there was only laughing and embarrassment (specially coming from Gerard).. They were playing with us? With each other? Pretty soon you'll see who got more played in this situation.
Interview 1
Interviewer: (...) Wants to know if Gerard sleeps naked
Frank: Yes he does
Gerard: No!
Frank: Well you did when you slept with me
Gerard: a literal nervous laugh.
Interview 2 (About the most famous kiss)
Interviewer: How it was to kiss Frank?
Gerard: oh it was like magic! Fireworks!
Frank on the background: hiding his face
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Ending of 07's: Suddenly Wife!?
Let's not talk about her in specifical this time, but about what brought her into the fandom. Surprisingly Gerard appeared with a woman, and we heard they got married in December 3rd. But not only us but everyone else including the bandmates didn't know Gerard was even that serious with her since they were dating about three months until that moment, even them being old friends it was still too soon. Fans shocked. Some of happiness, liking her, her band and stuff. Others wanted to know what about Frank. Others just hated her because she was too possessive (still) but as I said this is not the subject.
That was an literal nightmare. Gerard and Frank just fought onstage after that, not sure If Frank tried to kiss or tackle him but Gerard got him rolling to the floor. Everytime I watch this I feel so much pain.
The fight ->
youtube
We can guess Frank was the only one who fell for him. Or Gerard wasn't brave enough to show off with him. It's very hard to say but deep inside Gerard can be an insecure guy looking for some rescue, something that wouldn't make him worry and get anxious like a gay relationship for example. Not saying he doesn't love Lindsey, but I can't say he doesn't (didn't) love Frank sometime. Personally i feel like it can't be that he didn't fall for him. Even Frank being the insistent one, You need two individuals to make a kiss, right?
Frank started to show himself in a depressed way. Like one time that he went to the backstage and started crying when Gerard was singing Cancer, like he couldn't stand up even for a inoffensive sad song. And more, There's a rumor that says Ray saw Frank crying in the bathroom (not sure where).
2008
Results: Frank was pissed. Like for real.
We never saw him this pissed before. We knew kiddo Frank. The crazy one, the eternal teen, the bone breaker. Now he was an literal adult.
As we all thought is the obvious, he got back together with Jamia and it didn't take long until he got married too.
With that, what a musician would do about it? Music, of course. First Frank started writing poetry (about Gerard) on his site on myspace called ftwwillz (which one he still used until 2013 or 2014), pretty soon he would use those lyrics to make his new songs. Leathermouth came with the most violently depressing songs, reminds a lot of Black flag, his favorite band.
2009
MCR was inactive. Frank started a new band of electronic-rock called Death spells. Full of those myspace lyrics as much as Leathermouth. I think Frank made this account for some of the fans see and believe what he says. What he feels.
All for today killjoys
#frerard#frerardisreal#frerardtheory#gerardway#frankiero#frank iero#gerard way#my chemical romance#mychemicalromance#mcr#mcrx
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@doofnoof STORYTIME
SO! My mom and I have moved around a lot for many (mostly depressing) reasons and could hardly find so much as a one bedroom apartment to share most years, so when we were offered a four bedroom, two bathroom, ENORMOUS backyard full house for a measly amount of rent, we jumped at the chance without really wasting time to question it. The house had a weird feeling from the start but we chalked that up to "just moved" anxiety and shrugged it off.
I don't want to call this a "warning sign", but a weird occurrence I noticed upon moving in was the distinct lack of animals. This was way out in the country, so there were animals galore all around, but none of them — not even birds — would come within a few yards of the house. (cw for animal death) I even adopted a little chick to raise out there, but it did in fact pass away within hours of being inside.
There was a master bedroom with three smaller bedrooms. The master bedroom had a Bad Vibe to it which sounds silly when I say it out loud, but I cannot express just how much being in this room sucked. You'd always feel a little uncomfortable in the house as a whole, but the second you walked into this one room it felt like the entire earth's weight was on your chest. It felt like someone was standing directly behind you at all times. It felt like you smoked three packs of cigarettes and then did jumping jacks. On multiple occasions I became physically sick after being in it for too long.
The room smelled HEAVILY of smoke. Despite there not being any visible fire damage, it always had a scent like there was something burning. We had the wiring checked, the vents checked, the outlets checked, everything. Anybody who came over could smell it but no one knew where it was coming from, because if you got up to the walls and carpets the smell didn't increase any, it was just always there.
My mother chose to sleep in this room because it was the biggest. Now, I want to emphasize here that my mother is in no way superstitious, and she waved off any and all of my anxieties concerning this house/that room in particular, but even she only lasted about a month in that room before she moved into a smaller room. She would have nightmares every. single. night, and that's if she could fall asleep at all. She would wake up feeling sick, rush to the bathroom to throw up, but then suddenly feel fine before she even got there once she was past the doorway. I remember her telling me that what finally did it was trying to leave the room one day and the door not opening. It didn't have a lock on it. She finally got it "unstuck" after a while of struggling, but the situation frustrated her so much — along with the smell — that she decided it best to move next to my room instead (to my unending relief).
Everything was normal after that, aside from the weird tension the house always had and the cold issue we could never figure out (wherein the house was always FREEZING, no matter how high we had the heat. We bundled up in sweaters and blankets during the day to stay warm. Again, we had the wiring checked, the heater, everything. There was no logical explanation for this one.)
That normalcy remained for about a week. After that, stuff started to get weirder. The tension and "pressure" when inside the house was so crushing that we would spend a lot of the time outside if we could just to get away from it. Doors began to swing on their own without a draft, and we did have one (1) instance of the classic Door Slams Shut. Sometimes the doors would be "locked" (again, no locks) and we would just have to leave the room alone for a while and come back to it later. My dog hated being inside and more than once I had to physically pick him up and carry him in because he refused to go. I would constantly feel like someone was walking behind me or running after me even if I was just walking around in broad daylight.
At one point, the door issue got so intense that I moved my mattress into the living-room and slept out there. It was a big open space (which didn't exactly make me any more comfortable) with the master bedroom to the left and the kitchen to the right, and in the direction of where my feet would be was the house's looooong hallway, where all three remaining rooms were located.
I slept like this for a few days longer before just not being able to sleep at all because I would feel like I was in fight or flight mode 24/7. I eventually called my partner and asked them to come stay with me for a few days, just so I could get some sleep. My partner came over and set up a spot next to mine and I conked out almost instantly.
The first night was fine. I had a nightmare, my partner witnessed one of the doorknobs shaking, and that was the end of it. The second night, they woke me up at 3:01am on the dot (I remember because we had a clock on the wall and I was wondering what they wanted so late at night) and I remember feeling this AWFUL feeling, just the worst, most sickening, bone chilling feeling I've ever experienced in my life, and I was going to get up and puke, but before I could my partner shook me again and pointed down the dark hallway and said "Look, look!" and I kid you fucking not, there was a man coming down that hallway. Real tall, big hat, no clear expression on his face but the kind of look that makes your stomach clench and tear itself apart.
He stopped at the end of the hallway right where it would have lead to the livingroom. I couldn't get myself to scream or say anything and neither could my partner, we both just huddled together and watched as the thing stood there for literal hours. At one point we must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember is waking up closer to 6am with my mom getting ready for work.
I woke my partner up to double check that I hadn't just dreamed it, and after getting confirmation I just...broke down. Went to my mother as a grown adult just a sobbing wreck, begging her to leave because I couldn't take it anymore.
She knew we couldn't because if we left before a certain date we'd have to pay the deposit, and that was a lot of money when your options were this and being homeless. But I couldn't stay in that house for any longer. I just couldn't. As much as it pained (and worried) me, I left my mom alone in that house to live with my partner and their family instead. I just wasn't strong enough to last even one more night there.
A little under two weeks later, my mom tells me she paid the deposit and will live in her car until we can find another place to go. I'm not sure what changed her mind, and to this day she refuses to tell me what happened in that house after I left, but I can only imagine it was nothing fucking good.
We found out later that the house had many, many deaths inside its walls, and the last tenant before us was a drug house gone wrong where every person involved was killed, multiple of them in traumatic ways. I don't know if that influenced the house or was a result of it, but either way, it's not the prettiest of histories.
The house's owner couldn't find anyone to rent it to after us, and my mom stopped asking after about a year, so I have no idea if it still lies dormant now, but I can tell you I am never going back.
I've never told anyone but a couple friends about this because all of it sounds laughable if you didn't experience it yourself, but I promise you, every word of it is true and still freaks me out to this day.
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@midnight-raven
Here’s the reboot for the Vecna’s curse AU. I wasn’t that happy with what I first wrote, so here’s a hopefully better version.
TW: horror themes! Death of a 15 year old child! Other graphic horror stuff because Stranger Things!
Also possible spoilers for Stranger Things 4!
In the village of the Encanto, everything was great, especially for most of the Madrigal family.
Until, one day, Alma receives news that a teenage boy had been brutally murdered. Most, if not all, of his bones were broken and his eyes were gouged out.
Whoever did this had to pay…
While Alma and most of the townspeople searched for the killer, another murder of a teen happened. Just like the previous one, the girl’s bones were all broken, and her eyes completely gone.
Alma didn’t get it. Who could do such a thing? Who did this?
Meanwhile in Casita, The Madrigals tried to do their duties and show off their gifts, but Mira couldn’t…
Mirabel didn’t get a gift at her ceremony, her door vanishing before her eyes. Because of this, Alma treated her as a burden that’s in the way of the gifted Madrigals. The girl was neglected, ignored or overlooked by her own family, and that hurt her…
But one day, Mira got a severe headache and a nosebleed. She tried to eat some of her mother’s food to ease the pain, but that didn’t work.
Then, the nightmares started. Mira started to dream and see her family insulting her, taunting her, and telling her they hate her and that she was nothing and useless…
But that was nothing compared to the hallucinations…
Once, Mirabel was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when she heard Isabela yelling at her from the other side of the door to get out. At first Mira thought “get out of the bathroom”, but…
“Get out of Casita, you waste of space!” Mira heard Isa yell. “The family doesn’t want you! You’re useless! You’re nothing!”
The lights begin to flicker, and Mirabel continued to hear Isabela’s voice…
“No one wants you!”
“Go away already!”
“You’re a mistake!”
“We are better off without you!”
But, Mira also heard footsteps, wet and disgusting sounding footsteps…
“Do you hear me, Mirabel?!” Isabela’s voice screamed out.
“Did you hear me?!” The voice had deepened, as if it belonged to someone else…
“GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!” Mirabel yells, hiding under the sink as she covered her ears…
But than, it stopped.
The flickering lights stopped, Isabela’s yelling stopped…
Mira tried not to think about when she later in bed, but she couldn’t.
That night, she’d also hear a clock ticking, as if it’s counting down to something. Mira would later hear that same clock again in the morning, also seeing it, tiny black widow spiders crawl out…
Mira would hear that clock once again when she was eating dinner with the family that evening…
“Did you hear that?” Mirabel asked everyone, but the next sight would shock her…
She saw her family, except Abuela who wasn’t there, with their eyes and mouths sewn shut, all being covered in blood…
Mirabel ran out of the room to the nursery, but when she opened the door, she saw her Abuela standing there, her expression full with disappointment…
“What did I tell you?! Stay out of our way!” Abuela yelled, making Mira run away. But even then, she could still hear that deepend voice taunting her…
“The magic is fading because of you!”
“Useless brat!”
“We don’t need you!”
“You’re our mistake!”
Mirabel ran, trying to get out of Casita, but when she opened the front door to get out, wooden planks blocked her path. She couldn’t get out…
Then, she heard those gross footsteps again, the same ones as last night, along with groaning…
The steps came closer, revealing a horrific creature shaped like a human stepping closer to her. She couldn’t escape. Mira could only stand there, frozen in place…
“Mira…” the creature said in its deep voice, slowly walking towards her.
The girl was trembling, trying not to cry.
“Don’t cry, Mira…” the creature said. “It’s time for your suffering to end…”
Mirabel didn’t know what that creature meant, but she was scared non the less. It couldn’t be any good…
“Would you like to join me…?” The creature asked, raising his hand at the girl’s face.
Mirabel couldn’t process what happened, as the hand clawed her face and vines going down her throat, choking her…
-
Meanwhile…
“Mirabel? Did you hear what I said?” Julieta asked her youngest daughter, but she didn’t get an answer.
“Mira?” Agustín nudged her, but again, no answer. Mira just dat there, staring in front of her.
Camilo, who was sitting across from Mirabel, took a closer look, and saw her eyes literally roll to the back of her head…
“Mirabel, wake up!” He called out, snapping his fingers in front of her, but she didn’t react…
“What’s happening…?” Antonio asked Dolores, but she didn’t know either…
“Please, wake up, mija!” Julieta tried, but no response.
Agustín tried shaking her awake, but nothing…
“MIRABEL, WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!” Pepa yelled in a panic, trying to get Mira’s attention as well. But again, nothing…
Alma tried as well, but nothing… Tho she had a feeling something wasn’t right…
“Mira, please!” Julieta begged, just wanting her daughter to wake up…
Then it happened…
Mirabel was flung into the air, her back hitting the ceiling. The family had to watch and hear every single bone in the girl’s body break snd snap, every single sound was loud and clear to hear… Mira’s arms, legs and jaw being snapped into unnatural positions, and her skull got caved in, her eyes being gouged out of their sockets…
After the girl fell to the ground, as lifeless as a doll, screaming and crying insued…
Julieta and Agustín were holding their youngest child, their baby, as they wept. Isabela, Luisa, Camilo and Pepa screamed out of horror of what they just witnessed. Dolores ran out of the room, having taken Antonio with her. And Alma felt her heart in her throat, tears burning in her eyes as grief hit her once again… The whole family was horrified…
Alma got her answer. This was how those teens got murdered. And now her granddaughter was too…
But that wasn’t all…
Bruno heard it all, and got out of the walls. While the family were happy to have him back, it was quite tense, and he understood…
But, unbeknownst to everyone, the creature that killed Mirabel and those two teenagers, Vecna, had chosen Bruno as his next victim to claim…
He would be his last victim before he could blend the Upside Doen with earth…
It was up to the family to defeat this sinister threat and save Bruno from his horrific fate. Otherwise, the world would be completely fucked…
Ah, much better :)
#vecna’s curse au#mirabel madrigal#bruno madrigal#st vecna#answered ask#toaverse answers#encanto au#isabela madrigal#dolores madrigal#pepa madrigal#julieta madrigal#agustín madrigal#alma madrigal#camilo madrigal#antonio madrigal#luisa madrigal
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The things we leave behind: PERSISTENCE
In the last act of my postgame Headspace AU, Sunny and Omori finally, *actually* talk.
You can start from Chapter 1 (of 6) here: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/113743957
Then nothing happens for two weeks.
...Well. That’s technically not true. Now that Sunny lives in the real world, things are always happening. Kel’s intramural basketball team wins a grudge match against the YMCA that Kel’s decided is their nemesis. Aubrey bums a cigarette off some girl in an alley and then drops off the grid for eight days before resurfacing to report, with clear regret, that “Helen still has a lot of growing up to do.”
Sunny squints at her. “You’re like... 20.”
“Maybe physically,” Aubrey sniffs. “But I’m wise beyond my years.”
Basil spirals into a full-fledged breakdown over an end-of-term deadline before very nervously accepting a few of Kel’s Adderall. Then he writes the whole paper in five hours and spends the rest of the night deep-cleaning Sunny’s kitchen and alphabetizing the spice rack and organizing all the treasures in the junk drawer by material and size. Which would be fine, until he wakes Sunny up at 4 in the morning to ask if the arthropod fossil should be filed under ‘stones’ or ‘organic materials.’
“I don’t care,” hisses Sunny, who’s 80% asleep and 100% incensed. “I hate you. If you ever take Kel’s meds again, I’ll kill you.”
Hero convinces himself that he bombed an exam and spends four days stress-baking before Sunny has to physically stop him, because the fridge is so full of banana bread and shortcake that there’s no room for actual groceries. (Hero gets an A. Obviously. This happens every month.)
Kel gets his ear pierced. Aubrey goes along to keep him company and walks out with two new tattoos. Basil starts experimenting with aquaponics. Sunny starts experimenting with gouache.
Things keep happening, but only when he’s awake. No more nighttime visitors. No more weird, reality-breaking dreams. Sunny thinks about Omori sometimes, but he doesn’t waste time worrying. If Omori needs him, he knows how to find him.
It might have been nice to find out how everything turned out. To wrap the whole ordeal up neatly, with a bow. But by now, Sunny knows that closure only exists in fiction. In real life, stories don’t end. They just… stop.
Then he starts seeing things.
And not just the usual things, e.g. street art, stray cats, sunsets. A specific thing. Something… behind him.
He’s in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, when his eye snags on a blur of motion in the mirror. Something long and lifeless, swinging from the rafters. When he whips around to look, it’s gone.
He’s lying awake late into the night, waiting for sleep to take him. He’s already taken melatonin and Advil PM and two CBD gummies and a Valerian tincture under his tongue, which is… pretty much everything a guy can do, sleep-wise. From there, it’s just about keeping your eyes shut and not looking at your phone. But Sunny hates doing nothing. He spent four years doing nothing but. And when he finally sighs and sits up, he can’t not see the figure looming over the foot of his bed. Lank black hair on dead white skin.
He’s getting up to get a glass of water. Or he’s skulking between high-rises on a storm-gray day, trying not to look at his reflection in the glass. He dips his brush into the palette and pretends he can’t see the eye glaring up through a pool of Eggshell White.
But he can’t run away forever. He’s not sure he’d even want to.
It feels increasingly clear that Mari (or Omori, or his subconscious mind or whatever) is trying to tell him something. He just doesn’t know what it is.
It would help if he could talk about it. Hero is unnaturally good at sussing out why Sunny’s feeling what he’s feeling, usually before Sunny’s even noticed that he’s feeling it. Not as good at Mari, but still very good. And Basil knows more than anyone about what’s going on in Sunny’s head.
But they would worry. Their nightmares might get a little more colorful; a little more specific. And it’s not like Sunny really minds. He’s always happy to see Mari.
####
Legacy is funny. It never looks the way you would’ve guessed, but it’s almost always right.
Take Mari. Mari’s legacy is:
Mischief (and with it, the growing conviction that she knows more than she’s letting on),
Unnervingly keen, loving attention,
Fucking with people for sport, and
Picnics.
Picnics are the big one. Like Mari, they sit at the junction between worlds. It’s the ideal middle ground between indoor kids and outdoor kids; between fragile, bookish readers and rough-and-tumble wrasslers. Even after seven years without her, the friends she left behind are still happiest stretched out on a grass-stained gingham blanket, with the wind in their hair and the sun on their skin.
Everyone picnics differently. Kel and Aubrey romp around in the grass, throwing a frisbee or racing to the nearest bodega to decide who’ll foot the bill for a family-pack of ice cream sandwiches. Basil likes to find a safe little corner to write in his notebook or read—anything that makes him look busy enough to speak up when he wants to, without feeling like he has to. Hero studies and studies and occasionally glances up to make sure Kel didn’t leave the cooler open again. And Sunny? Sunny sits back and watches the show. He yawns and rolls over and naps in the heat of the sun.
Speaking of which. Sunny stretches like a cat and flops backward, till his head comes to rest in the crook of Mari’s knee.
“Hehe,” she giggles, grinning down at him. “Silly little kitty. We should get you a bell. You and Mewo could match!”
Sunny wrinkles his nose. “It might wake me up.”
“A fate worse than death,” she says gravely. “Don’t worry, little brother. If anyone tries to bell you, I’ll bell them.”
Well. Good.
He’s about to close his eyes when a shadow falls over her. Long, dark. Cold. A gash of white in a pillar of black, its edges billowing in the breeze.
Sunny’s breath catches. Mari. But— But she was just—
…Oh. He must be dreaming. When he’s awake, Mari doesn’t go around hosting picnics. When Sunny’s awake, his sister is dead.
“Um,” he says. “Hi.”
His sister’s smiling face flickers. The phantom looming above her stretches longer still. “...Sun…ny… Can we… ta…lk…?”
Sunny sits up obediently. He always wants to talk to Mari.
“…ehe…” the shadow giggles. “Listen… Nee…d… you… Omori…”
Sunny stiffens. Does that mean that Omori really is in trouble? But—Omori knows where to find him. If he needed help, why wouldn’t he just ask?”
One huge, sideways eye creases with amusement. “…Like h…ow… you did…?”
Oh. Right. Sunny knows how to ask for help now. And even now, it’s rarely his first instinct. But when he was Omori’s age…
He shakes himself off. “What do I do?”
“...Eas…ier… if…” The phantom stretches out one long gray tendril of shadow. “…show… you…”
Her spectral flesh feels gelatinous against his skin, rubbery-cold as dragonfruit. “Show me.”
###
Sunny opens his eyes in a white void. Cold as the vacuum of space and just as endless. But this time, White Space isn’t vacant. He can hear murmured voices, the rustle of cloth and the hush of breath.
When he sits up, he finds three figures and seven eyes staring back at him. The weird thing is, not one of them belongs to Omori.
Ex-Chairman Hero is here, looking vaguely puzzled and majorly perturbed. Basil hovers by his elbow, wringing his hands worriedly. But his shadow is distinctly not wringing its hands. Its arms are crossed, its searing eyes narrowed with impatience. Behind them, the specter of Mari—or is it Something, now? Sunny makes a mental note to ask her what she likes to be called—still looms.
“Um,” Sunny says. It’s not exactly the welcome he expected. “Hi?”
Headspace Basil gives him an anxious little smile. “Thanks very much for coming. I think we could use all the help we can get.”
When he closes his mouth, his voice keeps on going without it. “Yeah, right,” it mutters.
Basil looks mortified. “S-Stop that!!”
“I just don’t see why he’d open up to some random guy if he won’t even see his best friend,” Basil’s voice says sullenly. The words seem to issue out from his shadow, without any intermediary vocal cords.
“Aw, c’mon, Basil,” Hero laughs. “We talked about this! Sunny isn’t just some guy. He’s Omori’s—um. He’s…”
Sunny listens with interest. He’d always wondered what Omori’s friends thought of him. (If they’d thought of him at all. Until recently, Sunny had never actually set foot in Headspace. And the only one who ever came to White Space was Omori. Sunny had sort of had the impression that no one else could come here.)
Hero clears his throat. “A-hem. Um. Sunny is— He’s Omori’s…” He frowns a little and leans back, looking up into Something’s sideways eye. “What did you say he was?”
“...I thought y…ou were su…pposed to be an… honor student…”
“It’s not like they put this on our exams!!”
The specter snickers. “…Don’t… think too hard… about it…”
Hero grins ruefully. “Yeah, that’s… not really something I’m good at.”
“…ehe…” the phantom giggles. It’s not the same as Mari’s laugh. Mari’s laugh was a cheeky little snicker, like a cat playing with its food—unless you caught her off guard, in which case it barreled out of her like a foghorn. This is barely an echo of that. But the mischief is the same. “...If you… insist… Just… think of Sun…ny as my… little brother…”
Hero frowns. “But Omori’s your brother.”
“…yes…”
“But Sunny’s not Omori’s brother?”
“…definitely not…”
Basil’s shadow snickers. “Trust your girlfriend on this one. You’re not ready for the big picture.”
“G-Girlfriend???” Hero squawks, his voice breaking halfway. “We’re not— I mean!! It’s not like we…” He trails off. On the ground in front of him, Sunny is raising his hand. “Uh. Yes? Sunny?”
“I don’t understand.” Of course Sunny is happy to see them all. Together, especially. But— “Where are Kel and Aubrey?”
The specter of Mari flickers like a moth trapped inside a projector.
Hero winces, too. “We’re, uh. Still working on that.”
“...Still… a little sc…ared…” Mari whispers. “...Not their fault… Doing their best…”
Sunny’s forehead furrows. It doesn’t make sense. Aubrey is famously fearless. And Kel never slows down for long enough to get properly scared. Basil, on the other hand…
Mari’s edges flutter with another whistling laugh. “...Stranger and… I… go wa-a-a-ay back…”
“The nerd’s only scared of stupid stuff, anyway,” Basil’s shadow agrees. “Being wrong, and getting in trouble and things. He’s fine when it’s actually scary.”
“A-hem!” Basil huffs, planting one foot squarely on his shadow’s two-dimensional face. “I-I think we can all agree that— The point is, we’re all just worried about Omori!!”
“Worried he’ll disappear again,” his shadow hisses. “That he’ll leave us all behind.”
“Which would be fine!!” Basil rushes to clarify. “I-If that was what he really… Or, I mean… If that was r-really what was best for him, then—”
“But it’s not,” his shadow says flatly. “What? It’s true. You don’t have to pretend like it isn't. He isn’t moving on, he’s just being stupid. Again. Running away like a scared little kid.”
“He is a scared little kid,” Sunny points out.
Basil’s shadow rolls its eyes. “Yeah, well. Join the club.”
…Fair.
But that still doesn’t explain what Sunny’s meant to do about it. If they just need someone to talk to Omori, there’s got to be someone more qualified. Like. Literally anyone else. There’s a reason that Sunny’s friends are so talkative. If you put two wordless, socially stunted weirdos in the same room, nothing ever happens.
“...N…ot about… what you say…” Mari’s ghost whispers. “...No one else can… get inside… Only him…”
Ah. Okay. He’s starting to see the larger picture. Sunny might be worse at talking than anyone else in this room—and that includes the sentient nightmare who can barely fit two words between a sea of ellipses. But he’s also the only one here who arguably is Omori. (A part of him. The rest of him? Whatever.)
“Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll try. But. I’m open to suggestions.”
###
Omori is holed up in what used to be Sweetheart’s Castle.
Not that Sunny has any idea what that means. Omori said something about “getting rid of it,” but… what? Even by Headspace rules, it’s a little hard to swallow. Weren’t there people inside? Sprout moles are one thing��their sentience is very much up for debate—but did Omori remember to flush Rococo out of the basement before wiping it out of existence?
…There’s only one way to find out.
Sunny turns to face the others. “Any ideas?”
Hero practically trips over himself in his haste. “I-I made some soup!!! It’s, um. It’s… the same kind Mari used to make.”
“...Tell him… I love him…” the phantom whispers.
Basil squeezes his eyes shut. “Tell him I miss him so much!!!! I— There’s no pressure, it’s okay if he still needs—but we just!! I don’t know what to do without him!!!”
“Tell him we’re pissed,” his shadow hisses. “He can’t keep pulling this shit. There’s a limit to how many times we’ll—”
“Shut UP!!!” Basil screeches. “You know that’s not true!! T-Tell him we’re— W-We’re not going anywhere!!!”
“...but… don’t fe…el any… pressure…” Mari’s ghost whispers. “…might not even… get inside…”
Sunny snickers. Cool. Got it. Very helpful.
He throws back the doors—
—and steps into his living room.
(No, Sunny reminds himself. Not his. Just a room, now. Just a room where he used to live.)
Omori’s hideout isn’t a palace or a prison. It’s just a normal room. Beige carpet. Beige couch. Beige walls papered over with photos, so so so many photos. School pictures and Christmases and family portraits from a shop that’s long since shuttered, all stiff stances and smiles with too many teeth. But afterwards they went to All Star Burger and Sunny got a milkshake for making it through the whole session without shutting down or crying. Mari got one, too, just for being Mari. She deserved a million milkshakes. Eighty more years of milkshakes, at least.
The stain on the carpet. The way the lamp always flickered, no matter how many times you tightened the bulb. Mari said it must be haunted. But when Sunny ran into her room crying, she didn’t yell or send him away. She just told him, gently, that ghosts are really only people. Just lost, lonely people. And when they act out, it’s not because they want to scare you. They’re just afraid of being forgotten. They just want one last chance to be seen.
Mari, Mari, Mari. Everywhere he looks, there’s so so so much Mari. Gap-toothed and beaming, holding out the stag beetle she caught all by herself. Standing stick-straight in front of the concert piano, prim and well-groomed and stiff with fear. Dancing. Laughing. Carrying her baby brother on her back even when her knees buckled. For years after Sunny should have been too old for it, Mari never minded carrying him home.
“What are you doing here?” a voice asks. His own voice, ten years out of date.
Sunny jumps. He’d almost forgotten why he came. “What are you doing here?” he counters, for lack of anything better.
Omori looks down at himself, then back up. “…Sitting?”
“Right. But. Why here.”
Omori rolls his eyes. “White Space isn’t ours anymore. I guess nowhere is. The others kept bugging me. I just want to be alone.”
Sunny frowns. “You hate being alone.”
“You hate being alone," Omori says dully. "I don’t know what I hate.”
…Oh.
“And anyway, I’m not alone.”
Sunny’s forehead furrows. He follows Omori’s gaze to the corner of the room, where there’s a heap of old laundry scrunched against the wall.
—No. Not laundry. Mari. Not as she was, but as she is. Dead gray flesh mottled with rot. Crumpled limbs stacked like kindling. Empty.
“I made this place,” Omori announces. “Like you made everywhere else. You made a million miles of light and life and I made one boring room. I couldn't even figure out the TV. I tried, but it’s only static.” He looks up at Sunny, stone-faced. “Did you put anything good in me at all?”
What is he supposed to say to that? “Your friends seem worried…”
“Your friends. I don’t have any friends. Just hand-me-downs.”
Maybe. “They’re still worried.”
Omori shrugs.
Sunny shifts his weight uneasily. Omori isn’t giving him very much to work with. “You’re—um. You’re… not having a good time.”
“No.”
Then why are you here? “Then…”
“Why did you leave?” Omori asks abruptly. The words short and sharp. “Everything was fine before you left. Kel was never busy, and Aubrey never picked on us. And Hero was happy. And Basil was always okay. And—” He digs his nails into the arm of the couch, forces the name through his teeth. “Mari was. Alive. Mari was alive and she was perfect. Everything was perfect.”
Yes. That’s true. Sunny remembers.
Omori’s face darkens. “I know you," he spits. "You can fool them, but you can’t fool me. I don’t care how many stupid piercings you get. Out there you’re pathetic. Just some loser shut-in freak who’s too afraid to be alone. You think because you can talk now, it means you’re doing fine? You’re not fine. You’re still a freak. And you’re still a murderer.”
Sunny nods. Why would he argue? It’s the truth.
“So—why?” Omori grits out. “Why go back there? Why would you even want to?”
Oh. Hm. It’s an interesting question.
Sunny takes his time, thinking it over. There’s no use trying to answer right away. A half-baked answer won’t do Omori any good, and it might upset him even more. You can’t just throw a slurry of wet flour in the oven. You have to give it time to rise.
…Why did Sunny go back? It wasn’t just that he was dying. He’d been dying for ages, for years and years and years. He knew he was dying and it didn’t scare him. He used to think about it sometimes. It sounded… peaceful. So it’s not as though he was running away from the dark. He must have been moving toward something.
A lot of it was Mari. Obviously. Always. Was it ever even a question? Mari was the catalyst for everything. She’s the one who taught him how to be a person, and then a decent person. Before her death and after. She crawled out of the grave to pound on his door and remind him to be brave.
But it wasn’t only Mari. It was just—everything.
Sunny opened the door and everything was different. Everyone was different. He’d stepped into the last act of a story that no one had bothered to tell him. His friends looked like strangers. Everything that should have been familiar felt alien and strange. There was so much that he didn’t understand. So why did he decide to stay?
Part of it was just concern. Love and fear and the guilt that blooms from the marriage of the two.
When he first laid eyes on Basil, Sunny didn’t even recognize him. Basil had always been brittle, but now he was broken. Bloodshot. All the meat chewed from his bones. He shuddered and twitched and his hands flinched around in violent little jerks, like a fledgling flung from the nest before it’s finished growing its pinions. Too weak to fly, but too afraid to die.
Basil moved like breaking glass. Like breaking bone. He looked at Sunny with a million words trapped under his tongue. Civilizations rose and fell behind his eyes. Comedy, tragedy, catharsis. What had made him like this? Could it really have been Sunny?
(No. Yes. Sort of. But Sunny didn’t know that yet. He wouldn’t find out till there was only one day left.)
But it’s not as though Sunny faced the truth for anything as noble as concern. Sunny is many things, but he isn’t noble. He’s pragmatic. Realistic. (Selfish.) He protects his friends because he loves them. He loves them because it makes him feel good. He knows that he’s nobody’s hero.
So it wasn’t only worry. He was curious, too. About Aubrey, especially.
Aubrey. Seeing her was a shock to his system, a lightning-strike straight to the brainstem. He’d remembered her fussy, unflinching. Brash, but not insensitive. Forceful, but never cruel. The girl he met in the park… It couldn’t be Aubrey. How could it be Aubrey? She was wild with hate. Her eyes burned coldest when glaring at him.
But Sunny had trusted Aubrey. She was his compass, his focus. The one he could trust to speak from the heart. Aubrey was true to the bone. What could have made her like this?
(Sunny, Sunny, Sunny. Everything she lost and kept losing, it was all because of—)
—But he’s getting carried away. And anyway, that can’t have been the reason. Sunny didn’t have to go outside to hate himself, or blame himself. He was doing a perfectly adequate job of that all on his own. So then, why?
Ohhh, he realizes. It’s because— “It was fun.”
Sunny confronted the truth—the searing torment of an unbearable reality—because he was having fun. Fun! While he was awake! When’s the last time that he could say that?
When Kel knocked on his door, Sunny was, truth be told, probably not taking very good care of himself. Not being altogether kind. He used to think that he liked himself well enough, when Mari was alive. And then she died, and Sunny realized it was only ever Mari. Mari had loved him, and Mari knew everything, so it stood to reason that he must have deserved it. He’d felt entitled to all kinds of kindness, when he was Mari’s little brother. But when she was gone—and after what he’d done—
And then he opened the door and Kel beamed at him like a living, breathing sun. Kel took him by the hand and drew him out into the light and then acted like Sunny was the one who’d done something amazing. He looked wildly different, a hundred feet taller and stronger and more beautiful, and somehow he still felt exactly the same. And hanging out felt exactly the same.
But everything else was so new! The town thronged with faces that Sunny’d never seen before, or that he’d known and then forgot. He walked up to a million strangers and made Kel do all the talking, just like he used to when they were small. And even though Sunny had spent the past four years rotting inside, somehow Kel had grown more confident than ever. He was just as utterly, instantly at ease as Sunny remembered.
You could make a sort of game of it. Pushing Kel’s buttons, pushing your luck. Pressing at the boundaries of his comfort zone to see where they would break. Of course Kel could find rapport with the anxious artist drawing landscapes in the park, or the boy on the bench with the dreamy green eyes. But what about those fashionable newlyweds lost in the throes of choice paralysis? Or the bearded old weirdo muttering to himself in the hardware aisle?
Sunny walked into the homes of total strangers just to see what Kel would say. He wasn’t doing it to hurt him. It was like Mari hiding spiders in Hero’s desk. It’s just so exciting, finding out what someone’s going to do. Never knowing what’s going to happen next.
“So that’s it?” Omori demands. “That’s why you left. Uncertainty? Surprise? You left because you wanted to lose control?”
Hm. Sunny wouldn’t have put it like that, but… yeah. Maybe, yeah. It sounds sort of right.
“But that isn’t fair!” Omori hisses, flaring hot. “You made me to protect you from change, and then you went and changed into someone who didn’t even want that!”
Sunny frowns. “Do you want to change?”
“No!!”
Hm. Maybe that was the wrong question. “Do you… want to want to change?”
“No!! Or—” Omori hesitates. “I—don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know if you could be here if I didn’t.”
…Hm.
“The others,” Omori says shortly. “They’re—different. From how you made them. They’re not just our friends anymore. They’re, like. People.”
(Ideally friends are people, but that probably won’t be very helpful right now.)
“It’s like…” Omori trails off. “Like they’re not bound by what happened. Or who they used to be. I don’t even know if Mari is our sister anymore, or if she’s just—” He slams one fist against the arm of the couch, burying his knife to the hilt in the faded upholstery. “I don’t know how to say it.”
Sunny knows how that is. “Just say whatever. Sometimes some of it is right.”
Omori lapses into silence, but Sunny knows how that is, too. He sits on the ground and waits.
A few minutes drift by before Omori opens his mouth. “…That story you told.”
Sunny blinks.
“About pissing yourself.”
Ah. Naturally.
Omori huffs a breath. “I don’t remember that.”
Well… of course not. When Sunny was in first grade, Omori didn’t exist.
“I’m supposed to be you,” Omori mutters. “Or, something that used to be you. A piece of you. Whatever. But I don’t even have any of your memories. I don’t remember growing up, or coming here or anything. I’ve been trying and trying, but the first thing I remember is just empty white. And a black hanging bulb. And hearing someone crying.”
Sunny frowns. “Do you want my memories?”
“No! I don’t know! I just want—anything! To know anything! What I’m supposed to be, or—who I’m supposed to…” He trails off. “I just want to know what I’m for.”
“I’m not sure people are for anything.”
“Maybe where you’re from,” Omori scoffs. “Not here. Anyway, I’m not a person.”
There’s a lot that Sunny doesn’t know, but that definitely doesn’t sound right. “You’re—”
“Don’t argue,” Omori spits. “I know what people are. They feel things, and grow, and—grow up. That’s why you left. Isn’t it? Because you wanted something real.”
Sunny hesitates. That’s probably true, but… it’s not the whole truth. But he doesn’t know how to say it.
Omori barks a laugh. “You made it so I couldn't change, and then you changed into someone who didn't want that. Not that I cared,” he adds, bitterly. “I still had my friends. But now they’re changing, too. And I thought… If I brought your stupid friends here and made them face themselves, like we did, then… maybe everything could go back to how it was. But it didn’t. They’re still changing. Everyone is changing, except me. Because that’s how you made me.” He bares his teeth, ablaze with sudden fury. “It isn’t fair! I hate you! I should hate you forever and ever! Till you die and ever after!”
For a second, Sunny is scared that he’s going to get stabbed again. But it only lasts a moment, and then Omori collapses back into his seat.
“After you left,” Omori says. Leaden, resigned. “I. Missed you. Isn’t that stupid? It’s not like you were good company. All you ever did was lay around and cry.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Sunny says quietly.
“Hah. Right. Of course you’d want me to be as pathetic as you. I’m just a memory. Just a scar over something that’s already healed. Being here probably feels nostalgic.”
That’s… not entirely untrue. But saying so would probably also not be very helpful.
“You threw me away and I can’t even hate you,” Omori says. “Or resent you, or—miss you. Because that’s not how you made me. And even if I could, I—” He has to force the words through gritted teeth. “—don’t. Want to.” He barks a laugh. “All you ever gave me was your ugliest, broken-est parts and I still won’t throw them away, because it’s—all I have left. Because I don’t want to lose you. Even after you threw me away.”
“I didn’t throw you away.”
“You—” Omori trips over his tongue. “—What?”
You can read the rest of the finale here: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/129661372
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alternative to this request for my 1k celebration!
same deal as the original request - if you have not read my fanfic 'the shire is burning' or 'so mordor it is', this probably won't make a ton of sense! i suppose technically, it could, but it does namedrop my oc from that series! and includes her nickname from eddie, as well as referencing to the circumstances they're going through in the sequel. and also... i hope my hateful anon (or anons if it wasn't the same person lol) are reading because willow and eddie will forever be my babies. whether it be slow burn or their terrible angst to come. for shire readers - this is also not canon. this is not a scene that will be included in the sequel in any way, shape, or form!
WARNING: mentions of blood, and mentions of vecna. less intense than the og request lol.
1k celebration - come party with me!
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────
“Holy shit,” she gasps, staring into the mirror, watching the crimson drip from her nose, “That’s… that’s a lot of blood.”
Her voice is a whisper as her knuckles turn white from her grip on the counter, desperate to not alert anyone outside of the bathroom of the terrible realization settling in.
All the lies she told herself leading to this moment. The way she had truly convinced herself that this wasn’t happening, that it was all coincidence.
She’s cursed. Vecna has cursed her.
A knock sounds at the bathroom door, and as she jumps, a few splatters of red drop against porcelain.
“Red?” Eddie’s voice calls out, “Everything okay in there?”
No. Everything is not okay. A fucking alternate-dimension wizard has just painted a death target on my back.
“I- Um, fine!” she hesitantly replies, ripping tissues as she starts to swipe away the evidence, “I’m good!”
I am very much not good.
He knows her too well, hears it in her voice as he takes on a sickly gentle tone, “Sweetheart, can you let me in, please?”
She couldn’t fight him, not when he says it like that, not when all she wants right now in her starch fear is his arms around her and the promise that everything will be okay.
But when she opens the door, and her nose is still bleeding, she doubts that everything will be okay.
It takes him only a moment to notice. And as he does, the blood drains from his face and leaves him resembling the same shade of white of the sink.
“Willow,” he hoarsely breathes out, eyes glued to her nose, her upper lip, the smearing pink where familiar soft skin resides, “I-”
She doesn’t waste time. She grabs him by his forearm and drags him into the bathroom with her, slamming and locking the door behind them.
“Willow!” his voice raises, hands cupping her face as his face is petrified, thumb swiping nervously where the stream of blood trickles, “No, no, no. I-”
His words lodge themselves painfully into his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. His worst nightmare is coming true right before his eyes.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You….. your nose… you…”
“It’s just a nosebleed.”
“It’s not just a nosebleed!” he shouts, making her eyes squeeze shut. But she doesn’t flinch out of his touch, “You… Fuck. You’ve been having headaches.”
She doesn’t respond. His panic rises.
“You’ve been having nightmares.”
Tears gather in both their eyes.
A firm decision flashes behind his brown irises, and suddenly, he drops his touch from her face. She reaches up and attempts to grab his wrists, to keep him there, to keep her grounded. She misses.
“We have to tell the others. We- We have to think of a way to stop him. We… We have to kill him, we can’t-” his words are rushed as he attempts to shove past her, frantic as his hand that reaches for the doorknob shakes terribly.
Her hands don’t shake. Part of her always knew. She expected this.
When she reaches for his wrist this time, she doesn’t miss.
Warm, familiar skin is pressed beneath her fingertips, his strong heartbeat that had served as her lullaby countless times thrumming against her touch.
“Don’t. Please,” she begs. Even if she knew, even if she had been expecting for this shoe to drop since Max first described Vecna’s symptoms, it doesn’t make her any less scared. She’s like a small child, looking up at him with shining eyes as her grip tightens and she pleads, “Stay with me, please.”
She doesn’t want to be alone right now. She needs him right now.
And Eddie Munson doesn’t know how to say no to Willow Jenkins, even after all this time.
#1k celebration#eddie munson#eddie munson x oc#eddie munson fanfic#shire#mordor#willow and eddie my beloved#this is more plausible to be in the sequel but it definitely will not be lol
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Feverish Dreams
I confess I didn’t like this one. I still have to practice a lot. It’s weird how writing something directly in English and translate something to English are two different abilities that need practice each one.
Yarin had only one regret about his position against the Galaxywide Government: have running away.
Yet his name and face were unkown, Yarin was the voice of the riot even before it exists. Someone need to expose all the Government’s abuses and injustices in the colonial worlds. Why not him? Along with Castyr, his oldest friend, Yarin had adapted an old ham radio station to reaching even the faraway planets. When the riot started, their goals were united. He surely wasn’t the fighter kind, but was smart enough to give encrypted information during his transmissions that helped to keep thousands of people away from the Government’s baits and traps. Not smart enough to keep himself safe, thought, and was catch by the attentive eyes of a certain Admiral who didn’t enjoy seeing his preys get away.
His little Ghost Radio disappeared, leaving the rebels and allies with nothing but the not at all comforting white noise.
The Admiral thought he and the rebel leader confabulated, when, actually, Yarin only knew the leader’s codename. Deprived of his voice, Yarin could still listen and be useful. He had to escape. He got to escape. And because of that, Yarin would hate himself for the rest of his days. For taking the bait. For unwittingly leaving the Admiral to the station, to Castyr.
Soldiers threw him on the floor along with his best friend who looked to him with fearful eyes, in hope for a smart move or scheme of him.
“I hoped you had already betrayed those friends of yours to this time. But as you’re so compromised in keeping your mouth shut, maybe he can be more helpful.”
The horrid thought of Castyr being tortured by his error filled Yarin with pure despair, and despair makes people stupid.
“He doesn’t know anything, let him go!”
It was true, but he should have done the same thing he did all that time. He should have kept silent.
“If he doesn’t know anything, let’s not waste our time.”
The gunshot silenced all the other sounds in the world, as if the whole universe held breath, holping that everything was a lie, a joke, a delirious nightmare of a lonely boy in a cell.
But time started flowing again. There was blood in his face. Castyr’s blood. Then the only thing he could do was scream.
Yarin screamed as if his mind were dripping like sand through his fingers. As if that moment were last forever. If the Admiral’s gun were aimed to kill him right now, he couldn’t care. Maybe he even prefered it. If he were destroyed for good right there, at least he wouldn’t spend the rest of his days living that single terrifying moment.
His eyes couldn’t turn away. Even with them shut, he continued to see.
Even when he opened them to face the silver roof of the riot’s hideout.
The white sheet, wet by sweat and blood.
Yarin felt the scream stuck in his throat, but that were long ago and he had changed too much to react like that. Now, his despair were silent, yet still agonizing. He crawled out of the bed to the bathroom, and tried to clean his hands from the blood, ignoring the clear as always water that ran to the sink. He knew it was a lie, a nightmare persevering while awake; but he was covered in blood, he knew that too. Trembling fingers fought with his suffocating shirt. He gave up and turn on the shower still dressed. The cold water in his feverish skin was half a blessing, half an self-inflicted punishment, but at least the water sound silenced his ofegant breath. It was enough.
Slowly, he could breathe again. Leaning the forehead in the cold wall, he looked down. There was no blood. Never had. It was just that moment again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
#whump fic#whump writing#whumpee#whumper#male whumpee#not a prompt#nightmare whump#my writing#non native english speaker#non native english writer#jupiter's writing
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I posted 23 times in 2022
That's 23 more posts than 2021!
10 posts created (43%)
13 posts reblogged (57%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@faganini
@tethered-heartstring
I tagged 10 of my posts in 2022
#jack torrance x reader - 6 posts
#eddie munson x reader - 5 posts
#jack torrance - 5 posts
#the shining - 5 posts
#eddie munson - 3 posts
#stranger things fanfiction - 3 posts
#beetlejuice x reader - 1 post
#billy loomis x reader - 1 post
#stu x reader - 1 post
#billy hargrove x reader - 1 post
Longest Tag: 26 characters
#stranger things fanfiction
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
The New Beginning pt.2
TW: mentions of self harm
You wake up in your room, like everyday, but something’s different, you feel hands wrapped around your waste and feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. It’s Eddie, you remember what had occurred last night and start sobbing at the thought of your ex coming back again. Eddie, who was already awake and was just watching you sleep, kissed you on the back of your neck and whispered “you’re safe with me, baby”, you smile before being taken by the thoughts of what your ex might do to you again.
Eddie notices that and says “Don’t worry, that bastard is never going to harm you again”, you nod and get off the bed, “where are you going, sweetheart?” says Eddie, worried that you’ll do something to yourself again, he blinks and then he’s back at that horrible scenario, you, crying and saying “what have i done” over and over again, Eddie, driving as fast as possible to get to you, and to think that was just two months ago..
“I’m going to go get some tea, you want anything?” you say, “a coffee would be nice” says Eddie, not wanting to make you do too much because of the traumatic experience you had yesterday, “ok!” you say. A few minutes pass and Eddie is still on the bed, waiting for you, you enter the room and give Eddie his coffee and sit on the bed next to him with your cup of tea. You knew this was going to be one of your morning rituals, you could just feel it.
23 notes - Posted June 20, 2022
#4
okidoki!
Jack and you never really got along, specially after what happened at the Christmas party, you were both drunk and started making out (even though he was married) but at least both of you regretted it (or did you?).
Unfortunately you were both selected to take care of the hotel in the winter season. It’s not like you two hated each other but you both regretted that night and didn’t want to see each other after that.
First day: Since the budget was low you both had to share a room (a room for couples, with one bed) you were in your room and then Jack came in but you didn’t notice until he spoke “well, well, well, I guess the best duo is back at it again” “just shut up, Jack” you said. Jack walked out of the room and didn’t bother you for the rest of the day.
Second day: You woke up in the middle of the night, you had a weird dream, more like a nightmare to you, it was a sex dream with you and Jack. You went to the bathroom and then you felt strong hands around your waste, and a warm kiss on your neck. “Jack..?”, he didn’t respond, “J-Jack..?” you said, again, “don’t think I didn’t hear you talk in your sleep about me, kitten~”. “W-what??” you said, “yeah i heard you, you big simp” he laughs. You didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the day.
Third day: Jack was writing on his typing machine, you approached him, “h-hey, about yesterday..” you said, “sit on my lap, kitten” he said with a warm smile on his face “o-ok” you said. You sat on his lap, he began to write again. “Ya know I love you right?” he said, “yeah” you said, “do you love me too?” he said with a smirk, already knowing the answer, “y-yeah i do” you said.
Forth day, Night time: You went to bed a little earlier than usual, Jack usually went to bed around midnight or 3AM, and you usually waited for him, you were under the sheets and started to fall asleep, you were suddenly woken by a soft kiss on your lips, “hi” he says “hi” you say, “just wanted to say goodnight” he said,”aww thank you” you said
10th day: You woke up a little earlier than usual so you decided to go to downstairs, to check what Jack was writing. You approached his desk, you touched the big stack of papers he had left there from the night before. You only saw one thing written over and over again “i love Y/N” you got scared and took a step back, when you did you felt a warm breath on your neck “how do you like it?“ he said, “u-uh” you said, you knew Jack loved you but you didn’t know he loved you THAT much.
11th day: You woke up, Jack had his face on your chest, you sarted playing with his hair. “Y/N” he said, “yeah?” you said, “ya know I would do anything for you don’t ya?” he said, while wrapping his arms around your waste “yeah i do” you said with a warm comforting smile. You both knew you were bad for each other but you were also perfect for each other. Kinda like an addiction that kept growing and growing and it never ended.
24 notes - Posted June 26, 2022
#3
The New Beginning
Summary: After your boyfriend broke up with you, you were comforted by your good friend Eddie, but then you and him let your emotions get the best of you
TW: argument, aggressive language (swearing), abusive ex
E/B/N = Ex Boyfriend’s Name
You were devastated. You and your boyfriend had been together for 3 years. You just spent your whole day in bed listening to mitski and Billie Eilish and crying your eyes out.
Thank god your friend Eddie was going to visit you today, he was the only person who could comfort you right now. Yes of course he was great friends with your, now, ex. But he still cared about you. Like a lot.
“Y/N! I’m here!” said Eddie entering your small apartment. “Y/N?” Eddie got a little panicked from not seeing you near the door to greet him. “In here” you said, with your tired voice and eye bags from crying so much last night.
Eddie enters your room, his smile turns into a sad face. He was really sad that you were in such pain, but also kinda relieved that you were finally out of that toxic relationship. He sits in your bed, next to you, “Y/N…”, he says, while playing with your hair.
Eddie gets up and claps his hands “Come on! It’s time to get up!” you look at him and in your mind you’re just thinking “dammit he looks so good today”. Eddie looks at you with a warm smile, he helps you get up and you go eat lunch.
After lunch Eddie helps you with your self-care routine, he tells you to go take a shower to freshen up and he sits in the bed, waiting for you to finish. After that you two go for a walk in the park, Eddie picks up a flower and puts it in your hair, and you start blushing (intensely). Luckily he didn’t notice (or did he?)
When you get home you both sit on the bed and just start talking about the rain, music, anything. But then your sweet conversation gets interrupted by an aggressive knock on the door “I go get it!” says Eddie (not knowing what is about to happen)
Eddie opens the door only to find your ex standing in the entrance of your apartment “they don’t wanna talk to you, E/B/N” says Eddie with a cold face “shut the fuck up and let me in” says your ex “No.” says Eddie while trying to close the door. Your ex grabs the door and tries to barge in. Eddie starts screaming at him saying that he’s “a fucking psycho” and to “leave Y/N alone”.
You’re still sitting in the bed waiting for Eddie to get back, but then you hear screaming. You get out of your room only to see your ex trying to get in and Eddie holding the door “Get back to your room Y/N!” says Eddie “is that bitch Y/N here!?” says your ex. You run back to your room, with tears in your eyes, you could still hear your ex saying that you’re cheating on him with his friend and that that’s not fair.
Eddie was finally able to close the door after saying that he could easily call the police and tell them what he did to you, your ex got scared and stoped trying to get in. Eddie went into your room only to see you on your bed holding a plushie, crying. “I’m so sorry” you say “Sorry? Sorry for what?” says Eddie “for him” you said. You and Eddie look at each other in silence.
Eddie gets close to you, you start to blush again, eddie puts a hand on your cheek and gives you a kiss on the forehead “it’s all going to be ok” he says. You only believed those words when they went out of Eddie’s mouth. Eddie looks at you and realises that he’s the only person who’s right for you. He gives you another kiss, but this time on the mouth, you’re shocked, you didn’t know that Eddie liked you too. He pulls out of the kiss and you are blushing more. Eddie laughs and gives you a hug. “I love you baby, there, I said it” you start getting overwhelmed but try to take it in “I-I love you too”
61 notes - Posted June 18, 2022
#2
Hey can you please give me ideas for fanfics?? i’ll list the characters that i’ll be making fanfics for here:
Jack torrance
Beetlejuice
Billy loomis and stu
Billy hargrove
Hannibal and Will Graham
65 notes - Posted June 19, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Eddie Munson reacting to their S/O wearing his shirt to sleep
-This night was very cold and you only had a shirt on, Eddie decided to give you his hellfire shirt and, wow;
-You looked stunning, yeah of course you’d look stunning in any clothes but this specific outfit seemed to turn Eddie on;
-You and Eddie are on the bed and Eddie starts kissing your neck passionately, seeing you in his hellfire shirt just really did something to him;
-You seem to notice how Eddie acts when you’re wearing that shirt so you decide to tease him here and there, wearing his shirt to do chores and other things around the house;
-Even though Eddie gets kinda sad when you take off his shirt he LOVES to see what’s underneath it
115 notes - Posted June 23, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄
type of bed:
A canopy with pink and purple accents woven in. It was gifted from the men of G5 for one of her birthdays and also celebrating her rank from sergeant to captain. She really hates it but functionally, the canopy and curtains keep the bed warmer, and screen it from light and sight. The canopy bed came to be from a concern for her well being and privacy, since she’s the only woman in the base.
number of blankets:
A knitted one that comes from her past. Yes, it’s screams emo Dracula vibes and has a shape of a cross next to a giant Yoru picture but it reminds her of her second home of living in Kuraigana island.
number of pillows:
Too many to count. Some are animal shaped like penguins, rabbits, geckos and foxes. The men of G5 keeps buying her them, claiming her to be a princess. But she rather be the pea, because Tashigi cannot sleep with her sinking into the bed, like it’s going to swallow her up every night.
type of clothing:
Athletic sportswear tank top and gray to light gray sweatpants that have words on the sides of them. She is the most comfy and relaxed while sleeping and doesn’t have any hair ties so it goes down past her shoulders and there are no glasses in sight.
does it matter where they sleep?:
She can’t sleep if there is a lot of noise. Being on decks and other public places really stresses her out normally so it’s uped to eleven when she is trying to sleep and is less guarded.
what do they do if they cannot fall asleep?:
She goes out and trains her swordwomanship. Why waste time panicking if you can use that hour or two productively. Also exercise is a good way to make someone tired if they do it long enough. She has to be careful not to pass out while not in her room though since Tashigi has done that several times before.
frequent dreams, nightmares:Good dreams are when she obtains the Wado Ichimonji and finally beats Zoro or that he takes her seriously and ends her. 99 percent of nightmares are Zoro focused. Mostly of him dying before she herself can be the one to kill him. Others are that her shirt pops open and everyone can see her chest. She’s really self conscience so any outfit malfunction is very nightmarish to Tashigi.
deep slumber or naps:
Mostly naps. Her job doesn’t allow too much sleep as they are always in high alert. Their duty to hunt down pirates is somewhat of a 24/7 job as the offending parties don’t really rest and neither does justice.
when do they sleep:
They will sleep when they are dead…..or if someone forces her to take a day off to catch up. She spends the whole day in bed and doesn’t get up unless Tashigi needs a bathroom break. Is totally starving on the next and can eat about most anything, she’s that hungry.
what could wake them up:
Someone trying to take her swords. They are more valuable than her own life. You mess with the blades, they are going right through anyone that dares touch them without her permission. Otherwise: Roronoa Zoro :3
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