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code31-onthedancefloor · 1 year

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totally agree with your tags on that post about jean. i try to stay out of jean discourse because i have mutuals who say that he’s their fav character, but…i just don’t get it tbh. also yes kimjean makes absolutely no sense to me. i feel like it’s more like playing with dolls than anything else. like if your headcanons deviate from the source material that much, what’s the point? why is it fun?

thank you for your ask! and i agree!

part of it is falling into the trap of 'colouring in the blanks' vis-a-vis harry's memory loss, i think. but as you said - at some nebulous point, you're just making an OC.

my mutuals range from indifferent-to-utter hatred when it comes to jean, so i have no problem writing a few more of my thoughts. this is mainly about the failures of capitalist institutions in general to keep people alive. bit of a sprawling rant under cut:

personally, jean (and the rest of the Precinct 41 cops) struck me as a mouthpiece for one of the clusters of problems that institutions like the police fall into: using 'personal' bias under the guise of 'for the good of the institution/society' to cut off a member/member of the public in need. looking out from the institution's windows, one might liken it to pruning dead flowerheads off a tree. from the outside in, it is tantamount to manslaughter.

that might sound like a large step to make - however, if you think about how it is, in many cases, legal for a landlord to suddenly evict one of their tenants and make them homeless in the middle of winter (for them to go on and die of cold on the street) - what is that, if not manslaughter with extra, authorised steps?

with that, i think what jean is capable of doing in the bad ending... harry, possibly going through withdrawal, disabled, healing from recent GUNSHOT WOUNDS, destitute, mentally ill, suicidal, amnesia-ridden and isolated, is left in the fishing village by jean to fend for himself. not even 'here are your house keys and a few rèal for a train fare. go home, you're fired'. he is just Left There. and there is nothing there for harry. unless he joins the fucking hardie boys or some shit, there's no way he's getting a job again. that's it - harry's dead to us now; which means he is dead, or will be very soon. the only thing that would keep him alive at that point would by the kindness of isobel and lilienne and the other residents of martinaise, which proves my point that the RCM itself is a failed, bigoted institution. when even the hotshot lieutenant double-yefreitor is ejected for being 'more trouble than he's worth' without the disability/pension pay that he honestly rightfully deserves, the place is fucked. jean knows that nothing harry can do or say can prevent this. harry can't afford a fucking lawyer to fight for his case.

as soon as harry purposefully drove him away while imploding in a suicidal mania, that was apparently reason enough for him to 'fuck off'... for him to just sit there doing fuck all while harry wakes up not knowing who he is, gets shot, and actually solves the fucking murder for him. and then jean sees the detritus of harry's many, many attempts at ending his own life, and all he can see is wasted assets; wasted budget; wasted time. and to rub salt in the wound: the only reason he brings Trant along is to 'see if harry's lying'. WHICH. jean KNOWS that harry's had amnesia blackouts before. judit knows that harry's had amnesia blackouts before. jean just wants to see if he can leverage enough over harry to get rid of him for good.

when it comes to jean in particular, i think people can project their own ideas about what he is 'meant to be' onto him. hell, i'm doing it now. but to some people, jean is meant to represent the 'long-suffering addict handler' who has been at the Mercy of the Big Bad Addict, just trying to do his job but inevitably dragged down by him. i don't want to disregard anyone who has tried for years to do damage control with friends and relatives who are addicts - however, i just don't think that the writers intended for this reading of his character. harry, historically, used drugs and alcohol as a method to solve cases more efficiently and probably self-medicate for mental illness and post-polio syndrome. he has a massive caseload which he shouldered for years, grinding his spirit against the murders of revachol. it sounds like he only became a 'non-functional addict' relatively recently (don't quote me on that). and as soon as he starts inevitably imploding, jean - the guy who was basically only playing second fiddle in that caseload - is already right there to kick him onto the street.

because that's what cops view mentally ill addicts as, right? it doesn't matter if they're prestigious in their own goddamn precinct. as soon as they've outlived their usefulness; their cost-effectiveness, they're gone. and That is what jean was there to carry out - in the bad ending. it doesn't matter that jean is clinically depressed. they both can't afford therapy, but only jean can continue working because his mental illness apparently isn't severe enough to the point that he's driving his car into the ocean in a desperate attempt to end his own life. because he is 'functional'.

and the worst part is - they're both miserable! they're both suffering! jean wants to kick harry out because he's sick of dealing with him. what makes jean sitting around the whirling-in-rags in a wig being useless Funny is that HARRY IS DOING HIS JOB FOR HIM! while not even knowing what money is or who he is or where he lives! and then jean can kick him out the RCM and leave him to die for not being 'functional' enough.

now there's more to say about the different endings. how the 'kim *truly* trusts you' check and make or break an ending and the variety of ways in which you can play harry and how your actions 'mid-game' can impact how the world interprets 'pre-amnesia harry'. different shit. you can play harry as a racist, fascist asshole. and as much as i would like for every racist, fascist asshole TO die in a ditch - safety nets such as universal healthcare/basic income & unconditional housing should be there to benefit Everyone. even racist, fascist assholes. otherwise, the point is defeated: like jean the RCM denying harry his past and a stable future because of illness and poverty. jean raging about 'the liberals' and the horrific ableist shit he said in regards to harry's disabilities should have sent alarm bells ringing in the minds of people who want to woobify him. (plus judit's 'well-meaning' infantilisation, and trant's poverty-tourism schtick. ew.)

failure of institutions and different rules for different groups of society based on bigotry aside, jean is ultimately only there for like 5 minutes. if you want an asshole with a mushy core, why not titus? if you want a guy with a lot of 'fill in the blanks' potential, why not goraçy kubrek?

why not tiago? why not mañana? why not ruby? why not lilienne? why not cunoesse? why not the dicemaker? why not the ravers? why not the student communists? why not lizzie? why not cindy? hell, the guy who gives you a slice of salami showed more humanity than jean did in the entire game and the only reason he's there is to give you a slice of salami! why jean?

it's a little detached from what i've said here, but social institutions & contracts and ignoring/bending the law for the purposes of third parties are talked a lot about in this great video by philosphytube!

#tl;dr: it's a mixture of projection + 'colouring in' + finding him attractive.#dare i tag this disco elysium #idk #this stewed in my brain on the train.#the question i mean. out of everyone presented in elysium's world... Why Jean?#if lugia hadn't made the comments about jean's c-cup breasts the jeanvic fandom would be dead #seriously tho. why 8957348957 fanart of Jean 'can you even go potty by yourself' Heron Vicquemare and not tiago.#fuck my stupid yaoi life #anonymous #ask

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bigwishes · 3 months

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Terms and Conditions

Levi arrived at the train station late at night. Nobody else was on the train on his way home let alone on the platform when he got off. Levi took his ear phones out of his pocket ready for for his walk home but to his disappointment realised they were dead. He sighed folding up his earphone case shoving it back in his pocket preparing for the quite walk home in the dark. As Levi approached the station exit he heard what sounded like arcade music and saw flashing lights out of the corner of his eye. Tucked away in a small room was a table set up, arcade music was playing in the room as cheap disco lasers spun around. On either side of the table were posters of chiselled abs with the words "FREE TRANSFORMATION BECOME THE ULTIMATE MAN" written over the top in what looked to be a rushed photoshop job. Levi had been thinking about getting a personal trainer for a few weeks now and he didn't want to pass up on the chance for a free session or two, even if the trainer was this bad at advertising. He looked around for any information but all he could see was a QR code taped down to the middle of the table. Levi scanned it and it took him to a website just as corny and asked him to upload his 'before' photo. Shrugging it off he scrolled through his photos and selected one he had taken on a night out a few weeks earlier.

Once uploaded the website brought up a page 'TERMS AND CONDITIONS'. Levi began reading but after the first sentence assumed it was the basic bullshit all websites have, he tried to skim read it but after realising that the terms and conditions document was over 400 pages long he just speedily scrolled his way to the bottom ignoring all of it until a large blue button labelled 'ACCEPT' showed up. Levi pressed the button and his phones web browser instantly closed. Levi tried to do the whole process all over again but the browser couldn't even open the website anymore. Rolling his eyes in disappointment it became clear whoever was running this program was struggling to get their career off the ground because they were so bad at marketing or even basic tech. He put his phone in his pocket and left the station to head home and go to bed.

The next morning Levi woke up and felt groggy, his body was sore all over like he had just done a week long boot camp and he felt slightly heavier. He stretched and felt like his shoulds and quads were much tighter than usual. He put one hand on his shoulder to try and help stretch it but it felt larger, bulkier...

Looking down he saw that his shorts had split open in the middle of the night and out of the shredded fabric poked strong thicc smooth muscles. his abs were more defined and and his arms were pumped up with definition. He had always been fit but somehow over night had transformed into a complete jock. He covered himself up and took a picture, surely this was all just a dream.

Whilst trying to find his gallery he came across a new app on his phone labelled 'Ultimate Man' when he opened it he was saw just a page that looked like it was written in the notes app with a few sentences on it.

"congratulations on embracing masculinity, through your free transformation we are going to turn you into the ultimate man! get ready to embrace manhood big guy"

Levi cringed at the terribly written message but whoever was behind it clearly was doing something right, even if they came off like an idiot.

Suddenly Levi began to feel warm and could feel his heart pumping. But it didn't feel like exercise or even anything strenuous it just felt like he could really notice all of the blood in his body moving around. Levi felt himself get hard and he looked down under the covers. Even his dick looked bigger. He opened up his browser app and went to his favourite website to look at videos and images of hot guys. On the home page happened to be an image of a buff Olympic swimmer climbing out of the pool, instantly Levi moaned as he came without even touching himself. He looked down at his twitching manhood, it continued to drool over his bare abs. He cleaned himself up and put a pair of shorts on and tried to make his way to the kitchen. It didn't even take two steps before Levi moaned loudly again and his knees locked together causing him to fall to the floor. He felt his underwear fill with warms and he felt his dick pulse and twitch, he took a breath thinking it was over before it fired off again.

Levi squirmed on the ground moaning unable to stop as his body forcefully went through cycles of pleasure. He didn't even have the strength to sit up. His shorts had become drenched and were stuck to him but it didn't stop. Levi tried to take them off but his hands never even made it to the waist band he simply stopped and massaged his throbbing pelvis as waves of pleasure were sent up to the rest of his body. He didn't know what was happening and couldn't even think he just laid on his bedroom floor squirming in pleasure as he was forced to come over and over again.

After a few hours it finally stopped. Levi was stuck on the ground panting like a dog in summer but after a few minutes he was able to pick himself up. He pulled off his shorts now 3 shades darker and coated in a layer of sticky gloss. He went to put them in the wash basket but ended up just dropping them on the ground next to his bed and by the time the loud wet *shlop* of his shorts finished echoing around the room he had already forgotten about wanting to wash them.

Levi put on a basic black shirt and another pair of shorts, both felt so tight it was almost like a second skin. He passed the mirror in his hallway once again he looked bigger, more defined and the imprint of his dick stood out like a sore thumb. He was still hard and his sorts were so tight every second step made him wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as he had become so sensitive down below.

Levi went to make breakfast and realised it was almost lunch

"fuck I really need to get to the gym"

he thought to himself, forgetting that he didn't even have a gym membership. Mindlessly Levi started to make his way to his car and drove to the closest gym. He was panting like a dog the entire way as the vibrations from the car gently stimulated his manhood but to him it felt like the best pleasure his dick had ever received. He felt his shirt and shorts become tighter, a few tears began to form around his thighs and the shirt started to ride up revealing his abs, it was almost like his clothes were shrinking. His toes curled as his shoes felt tighter. Finally he arrived at the gym.

Levi needed to take a moment after parking his car, he was still panting and he couldn't help but rub his groin which alone was enough to make him feel like he was edging. After almost half an hour of sitting in his car trying to collect himself he finally got out and made his way to the gym entrance. His car somehow looked smaller to him, and all his clothes felt like one wrong move and they'd all rip off. He tried his best to pull his shirt down to his waist but there was still a few inches of skin that could be seen. His shorts where the worst, he could see in the reflection of the gym windows how they hugged his thighs forming a nice V shape and he could feel how they rode up his ass, like he'd put on a pair 6 sizes too small.

Levi opened the door and went to the reception desk as his body began to feel warm again. He rapidly dinged the bell on the desk a few times before hearing a slight click noise, looking down he noticed the top of the bell had caved in and he gritted his teeth with a slight look of embarrassment on his face. A receptionist walked over from the other side of the desk and took one look at Levi, without even thinking he said,

"forgot you member ship again big guy?"

the trainer sighed and buzzed the small plastic gates open, Levi was confused but didn't question it, he quickly walked through the gates feeling desperate to work out. As he walked he felt his thighs now rubbing against each other, he felts he biceps and pushing past his pecs as his arms swung, and he felt the monster python in his pants creep slightly further to the elastic in his underwear.

Levi set up the cable machine almost by instinct. He began pulling the weight and didn't even realise he had it set to the most weight possible, and it didn't even feel like anything.

His shirt felt tighter and tighter as the sleeves pulled up above his biceps and the waist pulled up almost to his pecs, by now it looks like he was wearing a crop top. Levi struggled to pull his shirt off and was stunned by the amount of mass on his body. He could barely pull his eyes away from the mirror as he watched himself workout, he was hypnotised by the way his biceps moved and the way his pecs bounced with each movement.

Levi felt himself get heavier and heavier to the point simply moving between machines now had him out of breath, his shorts were now so tight and pulled up they practically looked like a thong. Finally Levi stopped working out feeling the enormous weight of his size falling on his. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and stared at the freakishly massive man in the mirror.

He took a step back whilst flexing and felt something bump up against his ass. He turned around expecting it to be a bench but it was one of the gym staff.

"hey man, watch where you step hahah" the staff member laughed

It took Levi a minute to get the joke, he thought the staff member was sitting at first, but his eyes widened as he realised he was in fact standing. Levi scratched his head trying to work out if this guy just happened to be short but it was hard to work out when half his view was blocked by a massive shelf of his muscles that were his pecs. It was him finally realising he was half barefoot that finally made it click in his head. He looked in the mirror at the remains of his size 12 shoes torn to pieces and bits of fabric and rubber barely around his enormous feet.

He walked through the gym to the changing rooms trying to gauge how large he had become when he saw the weight station people used to track their stats. As he got closer to the station he watched the plank of wood used to measure height get smaller and smaller until he found himself in front, looking down at the number 8FT that was barely up to the bottom of his pecs. Levi stepped on the scales and watched the digital numbers rapidly shoot up until it began to slow around 700lsb. Levi took a deep breath as he moved his mass off the scale back down to the ground, even the 3 inch drop was enough to make small things on shelves near him rattle and shake.

Levi caught himself moving towards the changing room in the mirror, he thought he was walking normal but in reality he had a ridiculous wide waddle that took up the entire walk way. As he walked through the doors to the changing rooms a large thud caused everyone in the gym to turn their heads. Levi, not used to his new size had smashed his head into the door frame but it felt like someone had flicked him rather than walking face first into metal, as he took a second to recover he saw that the door frame had actually bent slightly from the impact.

The massive giant sat on the wooden bench alone in the changing room, it comedically bent in towards the centre, his massive weight almost causing it to bend to the ground. Levi scrolled his phone to find the app hoping there was a way to size down. He opened the app he saw a few notifications but clicked the latest one.

"Congratulations, you are almost the perfect man, one final step and you will be the optimal man! FINAL STEPS: Intellect deletion protocol and Personality Rewrite"

Immediately after reading those words Levi's head felt funny, felt almost blurry, all the embarrassment about turning into a literal giant went away, all the worries about clothes fitting him were gone and new feelings started to come in. Levi looked up into the changing room mirror and smiled.

He flexed his massive bicep

"OOOOOOH YEEAAH THATS NICE"

he rose his second arm to flex his other

"FUCK IM SO BIG, BEING THIS HUGE IS AMAZING"

He stood up once again feeling his insane weight

"Oh fuck, im so heavy, but damn, so big" He said as he struggled to reach across his own body to reach his bicep

His phone pinged loudly and Levi opened it to the app, but it looked like gibberish, he couldn't make out a single word, he scratched his head with confusion, Suddenly an audio file played

"Congratulations on becoming the Ultimate Man, we are currently offering a one time special offer for only the manliest of men, increase size by an additional 2 feet and 130 pounds, to claim say "I'm a manly man"

Levi's eyes lit up with glee, he didn't understand a single thing it said other than the words 'increase size' without missing a moment he yelled at his phone

"FUCK YEAH, IM A MANLY MAN"

He watched as his hands became thicker, watched as his dick print started to look like it was gonna rip through what was left of his clothes, his head turned to the mirror and he flexed his hulked out frame with all his might watching as it started to expand even bigger.

"FUUUUUUCCCKKK YEEEEAAHHH MAN" He screamed panting, completely out of breath as the giant before him got bigger and bigger and it was almost too much for him to even move......

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #gay transformation #reality change

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peachesofteal · 7 months

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Dead Disco / Chapter 10

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, anxiety, self loathing, crying. Angst. Brief mention of asshole ex. Eating related issues. Mention of prescription medication, mental illness and depressive/manic episodes. Pre established throuple. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Excessive internal monologue. You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.

"Look at me."

"I can't." You keep your eyes clenched tight, so tight it hurts, lungs burning inside your chest.

"Yes you can, darling. Just open your eyes." Simon's voice is soft, an entreating melody, grit and gravel smoothed out with the gentleness of his words. You get lost in it, the soft murmuring, the easy request, and when you open your eyes, he's still right in front of you, thick palm on the back of your neck, Johnny by his side. "Good girl."

"I'm sorry." You whisper, and Johnny's brows crease, his fingers brushing along your cheek.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for, darling. Ye never do."

"I didn't-" you gasp for a breath, and Johnny shifts, moving so that you're in front of him, sat between his legs, back against his chest. His hand holds yours, nestling above your breastbone.

"Breathe with me. Ye can do it."

"I didn't- I wanted to be better. Be different. I didn't want you to see." You try to explain, try to make sense of it for them. Simon's fingers intertwine with Johnny's, his other hand still firm on the back of your neck, your body cradled between them, in the space that once never existed, a space that now feels like it's been carved out just for you. Johnny pushes closer, holding you tight, and Simon leans forward, forehead touching yours, voice barely a murmur.

"We've always seen you, darling."

The floor is a fairly comfortable spot to lay.

It’s comfortable enough, you suppose, as you lay on your back with your eyes fixed on a spot along the ten-foot-high ceiling. Maybe you could paint the ceiling. With clouds. Or a night sky. That might be cool.

Voices vibrate through the flat, locked door the only thing separating you from them, Johnny’s tone pitching with increasing anxiety, Simon’s cadence soothing, and calm.

He’s calling your name. Calling you darling. Calling you anything to try to get you to come to the door.

You’re overreacting.

You’re a fool.

You close your eyes. A night sky might be cool. You could do a lot with the stars, or maybe even the milky way. Get some greens and greys and cobalt in there. Make it look like a long exposure photo. And the moon, you could certainly paint the moon. You’d have to find a ladder tall enough though. And you’d probably need help. You haven’t painted from a ladder in years, not since you did that one mural for-

“Darling.” It’s Simon. Again. And again, and again, again. Darling, darling, darling. “It’s getting late. Will you open the door?" You keep your eyes closed, but for a minute, your mind fractures, splitting in two, confusing emotions and thoughts bubbling up to the surface.

Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“No.” You croak out in a whisper. It’s quiet, but he hears it. You know he does.

“Please. I need to know you’re alright, at least.”

You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.

It’s late. The streets are probably mostly empty. You could run down them, if you wanted. You could take a train anywhere. You could take a plane, even, go on a vacation. Go somewhere nice. Go somewhere tropical, maybe get a cute rental, spend some time in the sun or by the oc-

The thoughts are rapid fire. They spill over, trying to patch up the expanding wound in your heart. They grow and twist, convincing you it’s a good idea, the best idea, to just slip away for a little bit. To go somewhere you don't have feel this, where you don't have to know this as well as you do.

Don’t think about it. Pack it up. Put it away.

Johnny’s eyes haven’t left your face. His fingers stroke from the crown of your head and hairline to your temple, your cheek. He’s staring at you like you’re something precious, like you’re a piece of gold, something marvelous he’s never seen before.

“What is it?” You ask, half asleep, drowsy in the bed. You’re still wrapped in a post orgasm haze, cocooned in the soft and sweet of their attention, affection, and Johnny only smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead.

“Ye’re so special to us. Ah love ye. Did ye know that?” You shrug, ducking your face away, pressing it into his shoulder to avoid his eyes.

A wave of longing crashes over you. It swells in your heart until tears prick in your eyes, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

It’s so much. So much more than you ever imagined. So much more than you ever thought you could have.

“She doesn’t.” Simon says over your shoulder. His hand sits on your waist, the touch firm. Grounding. Like a tether to their world. Their love. You turn, nose pointing up towards the ceiling, looking at him through your peripheral, your fingers intertwined with Johnny’s, holding onto them both. Seeing them both.

“Tell me again.”

The TV in the living room is on.

You can hear it’s faint murmur, some movie playing on low volume, the guys undoubtedly sitting stiff on the couch, waiting for you to appear.

You stare at the dark, nearly blackened trees that you’ve painted onto canvas, long, broad brushstrokes taking up too much space, bark texturized to appear burnt, nearly dead, forest scourged by a disease or fire, you’re unsure.

“It starts to chafe us.” Us. Us, he said. Us. Him and Johnny. Right?

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

You’re unsure of everything right now. Unsure about how you should feel. Unsure about what’s happening inside your head.

“-sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing…” The more you think about it, the more you start to lose your grasp. Were those his exact words? Did he mean something else?

For the first time in a long time, you think about one of your ex's. You think about a person who made you feel so small, so much like a burden, a horrible, unwanted responsibility, all the time. You'll never have what regular people have, he said. No one will ever be able to put up with this fucking circus. No one will want this.

Was he right?

You should have gotten out. The sentiment replays over and over in between your ears, the awful, miserable doubt and fear and sadness picking away at you until you can feel yourself starting to compartmentalize it all, trying to sort it into neat little bins, trying to keep the weight that is sinking to the bottom of your soul from drowning you, trying to build a wall around your heart.

It’s not conscious. It’s like you’re not even in the driver’s seat anymore, not feeling the full effect of your emotions, not letting it in.

It’s how you felt, when you packed your bags the last time. How you felt when you checked into the hotel, like you were on autopilot. Buried beneath a mountain of feelings but enclosed in a glass cage, segregated from it all.

You should have gotten out.

“I said I was listening.”

“But I don’t want ye to listen. I want ye to talk, darling. I want ye to tell us how ye’re feeling. We can’t do this if ye’re not able to communicate.” Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s a hint of anger behind it, a small flare just starting to light. It makes you angry, that he’s getting angry, and it churns in your stomach until you’re biting out a retort.

“I communicate just fine!”

“Do ye?” He snaps, exasperated, your head jolting backwards with wide eyes. “Because from where I’m standin’ it feels like ye’re trying to be stubborn on purpose. Like a child.”

“A child? You’re calling ME a child?” The air in their apartment is suddenly paper thin, and you hold your breath as Johnny watches you with that same, unchanged, irritated expression.

“Alright. This is over. We’re taking a break from this conversation.” Simon tells you both, fingers sliding over your shoulder, the touch meant to comfort, reassure, but you jerk away.

You eye your purse, your keys on the counter.

“I’m just gonna go home.”

“No.” He rebukes, and Johnny pales.

“No, darling. Ye just got here, and we missed ye so, so much. I’m sorry, I dinnae mean-” Johnny pleads, crestfallen, and it makes you feel worse. Like you’re failing him. Like you’re failing at this. Like you’re not good enough for it, for them. “Please?” He adds, and you wilt, silence falling over the three of you again, awkward and wrong.

“It’s alright.” Simon says. “If you want to go. I’ll take you home.”

“I can get home on my own.” You try not look at him, finding mundane details in the floor, the sink to stare at instead of their faces, resisting eye contact until Simon steps directly back into your line of sight.

“I’ll take you.” He steps closer, and like there is a magnet pulling you into his orbit, you respond, tilting your face backwards, letting him see everything. The tears. The anger and sadness. The confusion. He’s intentional with his movements, letting you anticipate everything, the movement of his hand, the bend of his body as his lips come down to press against your forehead. “Tomorrow, alright?” He asks and tells with the words, seeking permission, giving command. Tomorrow, you’ll talk. Tomorrow, you’ll get it sorted. Tomorrow, you and Johnny will apologize. And you’ll try again. Like you always do.

You nod, because the promise of tomorrow, the assurance that this hasn’t all come crashing down, is the only way any of you will be able to sleep tonight.

“Tomorrow.”

They both straighten on the couch when the door clicks open.

“Hey.” Johnny says softly, hopefully, and Simon says nothing, just watches you like you’re a wounded animal that might try to flee at any moment. On edge. Vigilant.

Your mind turns, but nothing comes out of your mouth. No response. No acknowledgement. Just empty silence that feels like a thousand pounds, all laying on top of the three of you. Suffocating you. Killing you.

You beeline for the bedroom.

Running away. You’re running away. Are you really going to run away?

The memory of the hotel haunts you, the awful, empty pit in your stomach that could have swallowed you whole, the dark curtains and dark room enveloping you in a never-ending spiral.

All you wanted was to be found. All you wanted was to be home, with them.

All you wanted was your home, the one you built, made, suffered for, with them. The one that you carved out inside your own bones to hold space for two others, not just one. The home that you completely changed your life for, the love that you believed would see you through it all.

The love that was always them first. The love that you barged in on, knocked walls down, forced yourself inside of. The love that they held for one another, before they ever held it for you.

Your head feels like it's underwater.

Did you make a mistake? Should you have sent them away that time? Should you have fought yourself harder?

The bed calls to you. It begs you to lay down in it, to burrow yourself beneath it's soft sheets, curl up on top of it's ridiculous mattress. Get lost in it. Be found in it. Let your boys curl themselves around you in it, let them kiss you softly and make you promises about how much they love you, or how they understand the way you feel.

If you close your eyes, you can almost see the future. Minutes would pass before Johnny crept inside the door, scoping it out. Doing the recon. Looking for you. His heart would soar when he saw you in the bed, his fears allayed, and he'd hold you so tight you'd think you were suffocating.

If you were lucky, Simon would come and turn your brain off. Johnny would pass you to him and he'd bring your deepest insecurities, your worries to light, dragging them out to be exorcised and vanquished, by the only men capable of doing so.

Is that what you want?

Should you have gotten out?

“There she is.” Johnny coos above you, warm palm cradling your cheek. You blink, fog encasing your mind struggling to clear, and you push yourself up onto your elbows.

“What-“

“Happened?” Simon finishes from where he kneels next to the couch, concerned eyes trained on yours, not missing a beat.

You blink. What did happen? Did-

“When was the last time ye ate something, darling?” Johnny asks, not unkindly, palm at your back to relieve the pressure from your elbows, moving you into a sitting position so he can take the spot on the couch behind you, effectively wrapping you up in his arms as Simon settles on the other side.

Shame curdles your stomach, hot embarrassment flaring in your veins. You avoid peering over Simon’s shoulder at the disarray of your kitchen, wincing when you realize he’s sitting on a pile of your dirty clothes.

“I had breakfast.” You whisper, but Simon shakes his head.

“When?”

“Yesterday.” You try to adjust, to sit more upright, but the sudden movement has your head spinning, and your palm covers your eyes, little groan in your throat.

“Easy.” Johnny soothes. Your water bottle is in his hand, and he unscrews the lid for you, lifting it to your lips. “Slow sips, darling. Not too much.”

It’s easier this way, you realize. Easier to do what’s being asked of you, easier to listen than to think. After a few sips, Johnny pulls the bottle away, and wide fingers stroke your cheek.

“This is what you were talking about. A few weeks ago.” Simon murmurs, concentrating all his focus, all his attention, on you, fingers still caressing your skin gently. Lovingly.

“I didn’t mean for it to get so bad this time. I… usually have a better handle on myself.” You try to lie, but Simon cocks his head.

“Do you?” His fingers hold up the scrap of paper, the one with your note to yourself scrawled across it.

‘You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.’

You bite your lip, but Simon’s thumb presses into it, rolling it out from beneath your teeth, as Johnny rubs your arm, lips soft against your temple.

“I’m going to take you home. To ours.” Simon tells you slowly, each word deliberate “Johnny is going to clean up your apartment and pack you a few things for the rest of the week.” When you don’t answer, brain slow to catch up, Johnny murmurs in your hair.

“You have to agree, darling.” Simon watches, silent for a moment before he answers the unspoken question, still cradling your face with one hand.

“You can trust us.”

“Where are ye going?” Johnny asks when you appear from the bedroom, hesitant steps keeping him far enough from your body, desperation written all over his face.

“Out.” Your answer is short, sufficient. It feels like it’s coming from another person. You still think you might be underwater.

“Out? No… we need to talk and-“

“I don’t want to talk. To either of you.”

“Darling. Stop.” Simon tries to cut you off, but you turn sharply, away from them both, backpack swinging on your back.

“Ye canae run away from this, from us.” Johnny pleads. “We need to talk about it. Communicate. Like we promised.”

“Like we promised?” You hiss, sizzle of anger breaking through the ice that’s frozen in your veins. “The promise that we made to always tell each other how we’re feeling, the one that he can’t honor?” You jerk your thumb towards Simon, who tries to take a step towards you, only for you to retreat. “Don’t corner me!” you snap, and against your attempt at control, your voice breaks, sob welling in your chest.

Don’t think about it.

“It’s alright.” His hands are palms out, cautious. It’s supposed to make him look like he’s not a threat, make him seem harmless. But he’s not harmless. This gaping hole in your heart says so. “We don’t want you to leave.” He implores. “Please. I- let me explain.”

“There’s no need. Everything is pretty clear.”

“No, it’s not.” Johnny argues. “Just, let Simon at least tell-“

“Tell me what? Tell me how it’s not fair? Does it chafe you too, Johnny? You also thinking what’s the right thing? Because it’s an us thing, right? You and him. It’s an us and me. It’s the us that I suffer for.” Your voice crests, and Johnny flinches.

“I made a mistake.” Simon whispers. “Don’t let my stupidity make you question your place in this relationship. We love you, darling. I love you.” Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you feel the horror of the truth, the confusion about your love for them, their love for you, searing together into a snarled mess.

“If I left you, the both of you, at the end of the day, you’d still have each other. You’d still be together, and I would have nothing!”

“That’s not true. We canae exist without ye.” Johnny sounds broken, hopeless, but you blow by it, dancing around Simon to pull your prescription bottles from the kitchen cabinet by the sink.

“If I died tomorrow-“

“Do not say that.” Simon cuts you off. “Don’t ever say that.” His knuckles are white at the edge of the countertop, expression stricken, and Johnny looks horrified. They both watch you like they’re afraid of what you might say next, what you might do, and nausea pools saliva on the back of your tongue.

Don’t think about it.

You close your eyes, and search for that underwater feeling. That untouchable feeling, the boxes being packed away in your mind, and try to cling to it, try to shut up the incessant stream of doubt and loathing and everything going wrong inside your head.

They don’t need you. They have each other.

You chafe them.

Don’t think about it.

“I need…” You trail off, trying to take a deep breath. Trying to organize your thoughts. Trying to hear yourself through the noise of everything else, through the searing pain that’s ripping through your heart.

“It’s alright, darling.” Simon murmurs, encouraging you. “Tell us what you need. Whatever it is.” Johnny’s face has shifted from despondent to hopeful, eyes wide and locked onto yours, while Simon waits, his normal steadfast and patient demeanor nowhere to be found, instead he’s more anxious, more nervous than you’ve ever seen.

You close your eyes again. Your voice shakes when you finally speak.

“I need a break.”

#dead disco #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap

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spoonsand · 2 days

Text

PART 2

RIP RED DEAD CHARACTERS YOU WOULD HAVE LOVED

Dutch- podcasts (making his own) + AITA Reddit stories, Coca Cola, monocles

Hosea- bingo, 70s disco music, swing dancing

Arthur- little toy dinosaur dig kits with the teeny tiny shovels, trampolines, Nanaimo bars

John- remote control toy cars, divorced dad music, Mountain Dew

Lenny- antiques, Epic Rap Battles of History (he would duel Sean and sometimes Karen),

Sean- roblox trolling, bell bottoms, GTA

Strauss- flootie pajamas, ebeneezer Scrooge outfits, cold calling

Trelawney- earl gray tea, crashing weddings, throwing pies into people’s faces

Charles- flower crowns, rock tumblers, surfing

Pearson- papas’s games (pizzeria, freezeria, ect), embroidery, floral scents

Micah- court ordered anger management, Andrew Tate, FailArmy videos

Javier- zyns, woodworking, eyebrow slits

Kieran- Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, model trains (him, Sean, Lenny, Arthur, Tilly and Sadie would be absolutely mystified by the set Susan bought him)

Bill- short shorts, petting zoos, animal shelters

Uncle- Leslie Neilson films, heating pads, aligator meat

Reverend- online gambling, Pink Whitney, dap pens

Susan- wine, gold hoops, edibles on a late Friday night (shares with Dutch)

Mary-Beth- choose your own adventure books, Our Souls at Night/The Book Club/And so It Goes, lip lining

Molly- olives, grey’s anatomy, Butterscotch ice cream

Karen- scary movies, WWE, flip flops

Abigail- sparkling water, tiny hand bag sized dogs, face masks

Sadie - butterfly knife, industrial piercing, The Hells Angles,

Tilly- baseball, Star Wars, Volkswagen beetles

Jack- Roblox, Scooby doo movies, tootsie rolls

Bessie- Fleetwood Mac, block parties (she’d host her own), Subway

Annabel- Madonna, waist beads, jelly shoes

Issac- lava lamps, Lego video games, Trelawny

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jarro-stan-account · 1 year

Text

Okay so

once Bruce is back from his field trip in the time stream, I think his kids would pretend he was still gone to cope with The Trauma tm and also to piss him off.

Alfred: Master Jason, where are you going with those tires? Jason: Bruce left every tire he owned to me in his will

Bruce: I did NOT

Tim, at the breakfast table: I can’t believe I still make two cups of coffee, one for myself and one for him. Tim:

Tim, swiping Bruce’s coffee: Ah well, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.

Bruce: Hey-

Dick, JL meeting: Bruce loved me for who I was. That’s why, with him gone, I’m making a point to express myself now more than ever. From here on out, I will be wearing the disco wing suit to all JL public appearances-

Jon: Are you SURE you’re allowed to do this??? I thought your dad said you weren’t old enough.

Damian: Father… when- when Father was alive. He made sure we were trained to face the dangers that Gotham hides in her shadows. It is imperative that I complete this training. In his memory.

Bruce: Damian Wayne, step away from the Batmobile this instant.

Bruce, staring at the dinosaur in the cave that has been painted a bright, lurid purple.

Stephanie: Bruce might have been a GIANT, RAGING, ASSHOLE, but it’s the least I could do to honor his dying wish to paint the entire cave purple. Starting with the dinosaur.

Bruce: Stephanie, no.

Batman, landing on the GCPD rooftop: I saw the signal. Situation?

Jim Gordon, to himself: I still can’t believe he’s gone. He seemed larger than life. Sometimes… I light the signal again. To remember what he stood for. To remember the man he was. To remember what he believed, we, as a people, could be.

Bruce:

Bruce: You too?

Bruce: Quit telling everyone I’m dead!

Entire family and change: Sometimes I can still hear his voice

#long post #i was gonna make this longer but didn’t wanna clog up y’all’s dashes but trust me I had more ideas #batman #batfamily #dc universe #bruce wayne #batfam #jason todd #dick grayson #batdad #damian wayne #stephanie brown #james gordon #tim drake #Also I’m sorry I was gonna put a line break in but I have no clue how I swear it was a funny purple line button but I have no idea how #Nvm found it we good

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calliesmemes · 3 months

Text

THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF WARDROBES

SEND AN EMOJI; RECEIVE AN OUTFIT AND AN OPPORTUNITY TO GET TO KNOW MY MUSE.

Send both the EMOJI and the accompanying TEXT.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

🧳 [ suitcase ] — an outfit that your muse would wear on an ordinary day at work.

🎓 [ graduation cap ] — an outfit that your muse would wear on an ordinary day at school / university.

🗣️ [ silhouette ] — an outfit that your muse would wear to give a speech / for public speaking.

🕶️ [ sunglasses ] — an outfit that your muse considers “casual”, but they would still wear in public.

🎨 [ paint ] — an outfit that your muse would design for themselves if they had the technical skill to do so.

💌 [ letter ] — an outfit that your muse would wear to attract the attention of their desired lover.

🧠 [ brain ] — an outfit that your muse daydreams about wearing and wishes they could have.

🎲 [ dice ] — an outfit that your muse would wear in an alternate universe / “verse” / timeline of your choice.

🧣 [ scarf ] — an outfit that your muse would wear during the winter season.

🍁 [ leaf ] — an outfit that your muse would wear during autumn / fall.

☀️ [ sun ] — an outfit that your muse would wear during the summer season.

🏖️ [ beach ] — an outfit that your muse would wear to the beach.

❄️ [ snowflake ] — an outfit that your muse would wear when it is cold outside.

🎁 [ present ] — an outfit that your muse would wear for hosting a gathering for friends and family at home.

☘️ [ clover ] — an outfit that your muse would wear for attending a gathering for friends and family.

👑 [ crown ] — an outfit that your muse would wear for a “black tie” formal event.

✈️ [ plane ] — an outfit that your muse would wear for some sort of travel.

🗡️ [ sword ] — an outfit that your muse would wear for a training session.

💎 [ diamond ] — an outfit that your muse would wear to a celebratory ball.

🤢 [ sick ] — an outfit that your muse hates with a burning passion and absolutely would not be caught dead wearing in public.

🎭 [ masks ] — an outfit that your muse has worn on stage during a performance.

🎤 [ microphone ] — an outfit that your muse would wear to a concert.

🔥 [ fire ] — an outfit that your muse would wear when they want to look hot / attract attention.

💰 [ money ] — an outfit that your muse spent the most to acquire / identifies as the most expensive in their wardrobe.

🪦 [ gravestone ] — an outfit that your muse would wear for a funeral of a family member or friend.

🚪 [ door ] — an outfit that your muse would wear while lounging around on a lazy day.

👎🏻 [ thumbs down ] — an outfit that your muse regrets purchasing or acquiring.

💪 [ muscles ] — an outfit that your muse would wear to exercise.

🪩 [ disco ] — an outfit that your muse would wear to party at the club.

🛌 [ bed ] — an outfit that your muse would sleep in.

🪭 [ paper fan ] — an outfit your muse owns that has some sort of cultural significance.

💕 [ two hearts ] — an outfit that has a deeply personal meaning to your muse.

🔮 [ crystal ball ] — an outfit that has some sort of symbolic meaning tied to your muse’s character development or narrative arc.

💍 [ engagement ring ] — an outfit that your muse would wear for their wedding.

✏️ [ pencil ] — an outfit that your muse has worn during a scene that we have written or discussed together.

⚔️ [ crossed swords ] — an outfit that your muse has worn, for whatever reason, during a time of war.

⛓️ [ chains ] — an outfit that your muse has worn during a traumatic event.

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #ask box #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #rpc help #funeral mention

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birdiesaves · 2 months

Text

THE MARTIAN ( novel by andy weir ) change as necessary !

mankind reaching out to send people to another planet for the very first time and expand the horizons of humanity blah, blah, blah.

i’m pretty much fucked.

they got the parades and fame and love of the world, i got a firm handshake and a hot cup of coffee when i got home.

i would only be “in command” of the mission if i were the only remaining person.

what do you know? i’m in command.

it wasn’t your fault. you did what you had to do.

in your position i would have done the same thing.

it was a ridiculous sequence of events that led to me almost dying.

everyone thinks i’m dead.

ok, i’ve had a good night’s sleep, and things don’t seem as hopeless as they did yesterday.

i won’t be able to whip something up with tinfoil and gum.

fear my botany powers!

but hey, time is the one thing i’ve got.

i wonder if they'll ever find out what really happened.

i’ll spare you the math. the answer is _________

bleh. i’m going to bed

my life depends on you

i played a lot of dungeons and dragons.

i have an idiotically dangerous plan

i suppose i’ll think of something. or die.

the answer is: i don’t know.

all i accomplished today was thinking up a plan that’ll kill me

also, i have duct tape.

after a search of everyone’s personal items i found my answer.

that was sarcasm, by the way.

this all sounds like a great idea with no chance of catastrophic failure.

do you have any idea the magnitude of shitstorm this is gonna be?

how come aquaman can control whales? they’re mammals!

i expected it to be cold, but jesus christ!

now, on to my next task: sitting around with nothing to do for 12 hours.

i ask for a picture and i get the fonz?

the whole world’s been rooting for you.

really looking forward to not dying.

please watch your language.

sorry we left you behind, but we don't like you.

you're sort of a smart-ass.

your request for “anything, oh god anything but disco” is denied.

no. you’ll fuck it up and die.

i took it apart, found the problem, and fixed it.

i don’t see anything... i can hear it, but... it’s down here somewhere, but i don’t know where.

the subtle and refined “hurl my body at the wall” technique had some flaws.

named after the greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. she's also the goddess of rainbows.

i'm not giving up. just planning for every outcome. it's what i do.

your poster outsold the rest of ours combined.

why are you such a nerd?

you should try to be more cool. wear dark glasses and a leather jacket. carry a switchblade.

you started my training by buying me a beer.

so now i have to do boring-ass experiments with test tubes and zzzzzzzzzz....

frankly, i suspect you're a super villain.

just once i'd like something to go to plan, ya know?

no? ok... what was that!? oh, nothing? ok...

for now i just want to go home.

there's always hope

are we just watching a tragedy play out?

you’ll survive this. i don't know how, but you will.

i've defiled enough historical sites for now.

tomorrow night, i'll sink to an all new low!

tomorrow night, i'll be at rock bottom!

be a smart-ass to a guy seven levels above you. see how that works out.

i remember when you were shy

the attitude comes with the job

and by “enjoying” i mean “hating so much i want to kill people.”

there aren't many people who can say they've vandalized a three billion dollar spacecraft. but i'm one of them.

what's our role in all this? if something goes wrong, what can we do?

how do you come up with this shit?

i admit it's fatally dangerous, but consider this: i'd get to fly around like iron man.

i need you to come back in and make a bomb.

i knew that guy was a mad scientist!

i think we should just go with my iron man idea.

well if you won't let us then- wait... wait a minute... i'm looking at my shoulder patch and it turns out i'm the commander.

give me a minute. you're the first person i've seen in ______.

i think about the sheer number of people who pulled together just to save my sorry ass, and i can barely comprehend it.

i represent progress, science, and the interplanetary future we’ve dreamed of for centuries.

they did it because every human being has a basic instinct to help each other out. it might not seem that way sometimes, but it’s true.

yes, there are assholes who just don’t care, but they’re massively outnumbered by the people who do.

#space memes #space rp memes #rp starters #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay inbox prompts #roleplay meme #feel free to reblog and share!

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listenheresweaty · 6 months

Text

Dead as Disco (Revivebur x Reader)

no proofreading, we die like men

people I’ve tagged: @poraphia, @witheredroseanon, @drop-of-void, @saccharinesunset

Synopsis: Some tough memories arise, so you help Wilbur out by sending Schlatt a final “fuck you” —-

You had a long, complicated relationship with winter. First of all— it wasn’t summer! So you could rest easy in the wonderful absence of mosquitos and nasty, sweaty heat that prevented you from enjoying any potential scenery. On the other hand, it replaced your favorite season (Fall) and brought tidings of stuffy noses and dry skin.

And your boyfriend never liked the winter, either. Not after his revival. Too cold, too dark— and too quiet, save for when the wind would blow through the open landscape, sounding far too much like the whistle of an oncoming train.

You both avoided going outside during the winter, choosing to stay curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace— your head on his chest as he muttered about whatever was on his mind, rubbing circles into your scalp.

But it was unavoidable that you’d end up outside eventually. A good chunk of Wilbur’s family lived in the tundra region and you were bound to end up walking back home late at night, having decided not to inconvenience Phil and Techno any further.

(In truth, you just wanted to get home before the snowstorm that threatened to keep snowed in for the rest of the week—- and although the Syndicate members were lovely hosts, your anniversary was coming up and you wanted to at least spend it alone together).

“Shit weather.” Wilbur mumbled as you traversed the Prime Path. “Hasn’t even snowed yet.”

Wilbur kicks at the frosted ground for emphasis, adjusting his grip on your hand and pressing as close as he could without unbalancing you. You felt sufficiently warm in your sweater and jacket, save for the stinging sensation of the wind biting at your knuckles and nose, but Wilbur was still shivering.

“The frost isn’t that bad. At least it’s crunchy.” You hum.

“Eugh, there’s so many more terrains that make better crunching sounds than this.” He grumbled.

“..Such as?”

“Gravel, for one. Sand— when it’s spread sparsely enough. But technically beaches make crunching sounds too, it’s just— muffled. I guess.” He turned to you. “Why don’t we ever go to the beach?”

“Because last time we went, I couldn’t kiss you for a week without getting sand in my mouth.”

“That’s why you wouldn’t kiss me??” Wilbur exclaimed, looking scandalized. “Because you’d get a little sand in your mouth!”

“It’s disgusting!”

“It’s not!”

“Yes it is— it doesn’t leave your mouth, and then your going about your day and suddenly feel it crunchbetween your molars—“

“That’s the best part, the fuck are you talking about?”

“What—-“ you splutter, at a loss for words. “I can’t with you. I just can’t.”

“Ouch.” He pouted in mock offense. “You know darling, with how you treat me sometimes, one would think you…”

He trails off. You continue walking, staring at the frozen grass as you wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, you look back up.

“Wilbur?”

Wilbur tears his eyes away from whatever he was looking at and glances back at you. “—Oh. Yeah. Nothing, we’re… lost my train of thought.”

You peer down into the darkness and spot an array of cobblestone and flags in the distance.

Oh. You had forgotten that it was visible from this route.

The banners on Schlatt’s grave, scrawled with graffiti from over the years, flapped silently in the wind.

It’s no wonder he had gone silent— especially with that incident the last time Tommy visited the Tundra.

“You ought to be careful around Quackity, Wilbur.” Philza and warned, sitting by the fire as Tommy raided his pantry for more honey bottles.

“Nah, he’s no threat.” Wilbur said, stretching his limbs. “He’s all bark, no bite. Sure, he acts all tough, but he’s just like his country. All style, no substance.”

You heard Tommy snort. “No bite? Dude literally ate Schlatt’s heart at his funeral.”

Wilbur choked. “He what?”

“Yeah, and I still have his lungs somewhere. Good times.” Tommy closed the pantry and began stuffing Phil’s belongings into his pockets.

“I sure hope you didn’t do that at my funeral.” Wilbur snorts. “…How was it, by the way?”

Tommy’s movements freeze, and you avert your eyes. “How was what, again? Sorry, I wasn’t listening. Anyway, the, um, honey—-“

“My funeral.” Wilbur repeated, smile faltering. “Was it— like— how was it?”

“We, um…” Tommy couldn’t look his brother in the eye. “It was a— wiggly time back then. There was so much going on, and—-“

“Oh.” Wilbur’s smile had completely disappeared.

“With—with— with rebuilding, and threats of further destruction—“

“Yeah.”

“We didn’t— we couldn’t—“

“Yeah. Okay.” Wilbur cleared his throat. “Okay. Alright! I get it.” He stood up, clapping his hands with a strained grin. “So! Phil, you said Technoblade was outside?”

“..Yeah.” Phil said. “He’s outside.”

Phil had barely the time to finish the sentence before Wilbur was gone, leaving a slamming door and a puff of frigid air in his wake.

Wilbur Soot, the silvertongued General, Founder, Brother, Father, Son, lover—- had never gotten a funeral.

Schlatt, on the other hand…

To everyone’s credit, Schlatt’s funeral had been more of a celebration, an opportunity for everyone he had wronged to spit, laugh, and dance on his grave.

Well. Almost everyone.

You glanced sideways at Wilbur, wondering if you should give it a shot.

“Hey.” You say and his head snaps to you. “Cmere.” You take his hand and gently pull him off the path, heading to the gravesite.

“Uh—“ Wilbur hesitates, clearly reluctant to approach the very object of his inner turmoil. “What are we doing?”

“Wait.” You scale the hill and pass by the worn benches, heading straight to where the marble tomb lay.

“Uh, [Name]?” He repeats, laughing a little incredulously. “I don’t really understand why we’re—-“

“Shush!” You march right up to the coffin— and with two definitive stomp, stomps— climb right on top. Swiveling on the spot, you turn and hold a hand out to a dumbfounded Wilbur. “Cmere.”

He lets you pull him up, awkwardly finding his footing on the rectangular lid. “Uh, alright. Why— woah!”

You tug him closer, guiding his hands to your waist and wrapping yours around the back of his neck.

Wilbur stares, and you stare back.

Your confidence begins to falter— crap, this was a dumb idea. “Um. I just— thought we could dance? Yknow.. here?”

“Dance.” He echoed, a light beginning to dawn in his eyes. A smile spreads across his face— a lovestruck, wobbly smile— and he steps closer, pulling you to his chest as he buries his face in your neck, suppressing a laugh. “..Alright.” He murmurs against your skin, grinning like an idiot.

“I know there’s no music, but—“

“It’s okay.” He says quietly, holding you close as you both sway to an inaudible tune.

You let yourself melt into it, reaching a hand up to idly pet the back of his neck, playing with his hair.

It’s less of a dance and more of a prolonged embrace since there isn’t much room for foot movement, but neither of you mind.

You tilt your head to press a kiss to the stretch of jaw just below his ear, feeling his lips twitch into another smile against the crook of your neck.

“I don’t deserve you.” He murmurs, so quiet it barely disturbs the silence around you.

“You deserve the world.” You say.

Wilbur lets out a puff of laughter, shaking his head against your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Mkay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know. I’ll never understand, but I know.” He sighs, turning his head to rest his chin against your shoulder, staring out into the open fields behind you.

“You’re not a bad person.” You move a hand to scratch at his scalp and he hums contentedly. “You may not have been a good one. ..Although, admittedly, this server hasn’t been the most.. conducive to good morals. You’re a person though, a human being, and all this—-“ you squeeze him tighter, kissing his jaw, “—-you deserve.”

He’s silent for a while. You let him think, rubbing circles into his back and pretend you don’t hear the quiet sniffles he tries to choke down.

When Wilbur speaks again, his voice is steady, if not a little hoarse. “Do you, uh.. think I could be one?”

“A what? A good person, you mean?” You furrow your brow.

“Yeah. That.”

Wilbur has always had different views of humanity than you do. He presented the world like a stage, bustling with heroes and villains, characters predestined by fate. Life was a story, and they were in center stage, the protagonists of it all, following a script until met with triumph or tragedy. It’s with these grand, romanticized views of reality that Wilbur had managed to win over so many people. Everyone loves a good story, after all.

As a rigidly scientific mind, you never shared those sentiments. Humans were merely developed animals, that’s all. Each struggle would be lost and rendered meaningless to the sands of time, and so would the morals on which they stood.

“I think you could.” The night is getting colder and your feet are freezing, but neither of you are willing to leave this pocket of warmth you’ve created, heads tucked into necks and hands running through hair.

“But you don’t believe good and bad people, do you? You never did.” Wilbur said quietly.

“Maybe not. But I still think you could fit your definition of ‘good person’. You are kind. That’s a start.” You continue rubbing circles into his scalp, carefully twisting and combing the curls with your fingers.

Wilbur doesn’t respond. He only lifts his head, trailing his lips in a pathway from your shoulder to your jaw, up your cheek to rest against your forehead. He stays like that, eyes closed for one, two, three heartbeats before he pulls away to look you in the eye.

Wilbur’s ears, nose, and eyes are tinged red, the first two from the cold and the last from silently crying into your shoulder.

Both your hands and his cheek are frigid, but when you brush your thumb under his eye he leans into the touch anyway, not looking away from you for even a moment.

He only closes his eyes when you lean forward, pressing your lips to his.

It’s the collapsing of a star, pulled magnetically inwards, striving to be as close as physically possible. He’s cradling your face like it’s made of sugarglass and you treat him with equal gentleness, running a hand through his hair, mindlessly stepping backwards as he crowds your space, adjusting to get closer, closer because it’s still cold—-

You take one last step and suddenly there’s no more marble under your heel, and you pitch backwards, toppling off the tomb with a yelp. Wilbur follows suit, sprawling out on the grass next to you with grunt.

Within seconds, you’re both wheezing with laughter, pulling each other closer and leaning back to rest

After catching his breath, Wilbur speaks. “We should do this more often.”

You don’t miss the tinge of sadness in his voice, and suddenly become very aware about how distant this relationship has gotten. It’s not neglected, by any means, but you can’t remember the last time you did something like this.

(Actually, you can. The last time you danced like this was November 15th, 2020).

But you opt for a more lighthearted tone. “What? Dance on this grave more often?”

“No, no— I mean yes, I’d love to make this our designated date spot— yknow?” He looks over at you with a sly grin.

“Mm-hm. Maybe bring some music next time.” You smile back.

“And a few blankets. Maybe some wine.” Wilbur leans a bit closer.

“Picnic?” You whisper.

“Definitely.” He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours. “But.. also in general. We could… have more dates, in general. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah. It has.” You murmur, closing your eyes as well. “…So, next Friday?”

You feel him laugh softly. “Yeah! Yeah, next Friday sounds great.”

Unable to help yourself, you cup his cheek and pull him into a kiss. It’s a lot softer than the last kiss, lips lingering together as you both pull apart to breathe.

“…I hope Schlatt’s fuming in hell right now.” Wilbur says quietly, eyes still closed and lips still close.

“I bet he is.”

#dsmp wilbur #revived wilbur #c wilbur #c: wlbr #revivebur #wilbur soot x reader #dsmp x reader #revivedbur x reader #c!wilbur #wilbur soot angst #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #eilbir slot x redetvr #sweaty “writes”#i abuse the em-dash two: electric boogaloo

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patheticmenscuffle · 1 year

Text

Drum rolls, please...

We're happy to reveal the roster for the Pathetic Men Scuffle! Thanks again to everyone who submitted characters, and we hope everyone's looking forward to this as much as we are.

We will begin posting the polls around 10pm GMT (4pm US CST) tomorrow 3/10. Each poll will be open for one week.

With this announcement, we will now be accepting propaganda! Feel free to send some in or tag us in any posts you'd like and we'll share them on here. Propaganda posts will be tagged as #propaganda and each character will also have their own propaganda tag.

Click the Read More below to see all of the contestants and their first matchups in text form as well as where they're from!

Izzy Hands (Our Flag Means Death) vs Lord Farquaad (Shrek)

Edgar Allan Poe (Bungo Stray Dogs) vs Jack Spicer (Xiaolin Showdown)

Pastor Daniel (Scarlet Hollow) vs Ron Stampler (Dungeons and Daddies)

Earl Harlan (Welcome to Night Vale) vs General Ultimax/General Fuff (Bug Fables)

Hunter Noceda (The Owl House) vs Asgore Dreemur (Deltarune)

Saint (Rain World) vs William Afton/Purple Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's)

Vash the Stampede (Trigun) vs Zote the Mighty (Hollow Knight)

Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die) vs Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein)

Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man (Marvel Comics)) vs Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb)

Anders (Dragon Age) vs Cyrus (Pokemon)

Mikoshiba Mikoto (Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-Kun) vs Ron Delite (Ace Attorney)

Inigo (Fire Emblem) vs William Graham (Hannibal)

The Narrator (The Stanley Parable) vs King Dice (Cuphead)

Five Pebbles (Rain World) vs Satan/The Dark Prince (Madou Monogatari/Puyo Puyo Tetris)

Sebastian Debeste (Ace Attorney) vs Johann (The Adventure Zone)

Luigi (Super Mario Brothers) vs Charlie Kelly (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia)

Stede Bonnet (Our Flag Means Death) vs Magolor (Kirby)

Dwight Fairfield (Dead By Daylight) vs Wes (Don't Starve) vs Linebeck (The Legend of Zelda)

Plankton (Spongebob) vs Spamton (Deltarune) vs Courage the Cowardly Dog (Courage the Cowardly Dog)

Father Paul (Midnight Mass) vs George Costanza (Seinfeld) vs Loki (Marvel Comics)

Harry du Bois (Disco Elysium) vs Darkrai (PokePark 2 (Pokemon)) vs Vlad Masters/Plasmius (Danny Phantom)

Reigen Arataka (Mob Psycho 100) vs Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III (How To Train Your Dragon)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield) vs Wheatley (Portal 2)

Paul Matthews (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals) vs Jonah Simms (Superstore)

Buggy the Clown (One Piece) vs Abner Krill (Suicide Squad)

Shinji Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion) vs Tamaki Amajiki (My Hero Academia)

Rincewind the Wizard (Discworld) vs Rouxls Kaard (Deltarune)

Giovanni Potage (Epithet Erased) vs Clippy (Microsoft Office XP Advertisement (Microsoft))

Bruno Madrigal (Encanto) vs Kaname Date (AI: The Somnium Files)

The Devil (Cuphead) vs The Ice King (Adventure Time)

Alcryst (Fire Emblem) vs Starscream (Transformers)

Miles O'Brien (Star Trek) vs Spirit Albarn (Soul Eater)

Jonathan Harker (Dracula) vs Ethan Winters (Resident Evil)

Tsukasa Tenma (Project Sekai/Colorful Stage) vs Kendall Roy (Succession)

Mike Wheeler (Stranger Things) vs Dr. Eggman (Sonic)

Larry Needlemeyer (The Amazing World of Gumball) vs Saul Goodman (Better Call Saul)

Alador Blight (The Owl House) vs Andy Bernard (The Office (US))

Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) vs The Cabbage Seller (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Jedidiah A. A. Martin (Camp Here and There) vs David Ward (I Am In Eskew) vs Randy V. Jade (Dial Town)

John Gaius (The Locked Tomb) vs Gilear Faeth (Fantasy High (Dimension 20)) vs Filbo Fiddlepie (Bugsnax)

Dick Gumshoe (Ace Attorney) vs Zenkichi Hasegawa (Persona 5) vs Eeyore (Winnie the Pooh)

Larry (Pokemon) vs Steven Universe (Steven Universe) vs Fujimoto (Ponyo)

#announcements #yeehaw #mod knight collected the images while mod dragon set up the layout #we wound up with a bit of an odd number of characters but we've made it work #you DEFINITELY have to open it in a new tab to see though #it's a bit late for both mods so we'll also reblog this in the morning #update: okay I (dragon) have transcribed all of them into text form in the read more #tumblr polls #polls #tumblr bracket #bracket

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colleitheglidingchampionofsumeru · 11 months

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bsd x gn!reader

How they met you/how you met them

Warnings:cuss words or cuss words in songs not all,suicide talk, (let me know if I missed anything)

Characters:Dazai,Chuuya,Ranpo,Poe,Kunikida,Jouno,Yosano

Word count:

Note:Dazai and Chuuya is when they were 15 and both in the Port Mafia

please read:I would like if you ask me first before posting my work if you don't st least give my credit thank you

Dazai Osamu

You have met Dazai in a mission you have heard of him before he was about two years older than you Mori your dad made you go to a mission with the suicide bandaged guy you didn't want to but you had to he talked to you and hoped on things while you walked during the mission he took a gun out and shot the last guy alive and there was everyone dead on the floor he wasn't bad after that you two just talked and your mom didn't like it she moved away from your dad and your dad didn't like it either but you and dazai ended up dating

Chuuya Nakahara

You met Chuuya or more like he met you your dad Mori has made it his job? To get you to meet Chuuya but you didn't want to you knew they both hated each other I mean by both I mean Dazai and Chuuya and your best friends with Dazai he was like a brother to you Chuuya met you in a mission you honestly needed help one of the guys had you against the wall choking you than Chuuya made the guy float up and you had fell to the ground and after that you and Chuuya got along Dazai and Chuuya didn't like it no but you and Chuuya were now dating

Ranpo Edogawa

You walked in the ADA's office you had some paper work for everyone you saw Ranpo looking at you and you looked at him you handed Dazai his but he just had to sign something where you worked the president had made it where everyone gets a bit of work about a mission or a case some had work and some had a paper to sign Ranpo and Dazai had a paper to sign dazai tried everything not to sign the paper you have now spent hours trying you than took ranpo's and asked him to sign the paper he than said "Hey Dazai look" Dazai looked and Ranpo signed the paper "it's that easy" ranpo talked to you giving you a break while Kunikida was hitting dazai trying to make him sign the papers ranpo than said let's hang out some time and you nodded and Kunikida said "here" and he showed you the paper with dazai name on it and dazai on the the floor with a pen in his hand you took it and said "thanks Kunikida" you waved bye to everyone but ranpo gave you his number and you both talked for a months and than ended up together

Poe Allan Edgar

You had to go to poe you heard of him but haven't met him you were going and there was a raccoon at the door you walked to it and he hoped on your head and pushed the door opened the door poe was writing a book you walked to him and said "poe right?" He looked at you and nodded you both talked than he started talking about ranpo you knew ranpo in fact you worked with the ADA so yea after a few months you and poe started dating tho he was shy but you loved that

Kunikida Doppo

you were on your way to the ADA's office to give ranpo his snacks you haven't met everyone in the ADA not even Kunikida when you walked in Kunikida and dazai were on it you walked past them and Kunikida looked at you and you looked at him you sewar you seen him blush you smiled and gave ranpo his sweets talking to him the president came and said "y/n I have a question" you looked at him you were by ranpo's desk you said "yes? What is it?" He said "you don't have a job do you?" You replied with no and than you said "well not really I mean I babysit but that is every two weeks or something so" he than said "Kunikida train her and maybe you can join us if you like" you replied with "okay thank you" and bowed and he left you heard Dazai say "oooooo is Kunikida is loooove?" You looked over to them and Kunikida smacked Dazai's face saying "SHUT UP DAZAI" you laughed and as the president said he did it went on for a few weeks and you got into the ADA and as months went by you and Kunikida were close and ended up dating

Jouno Saigiku

you haven't met Jouno yet you met a few othe people you knew who he was tho people have been telling you that you need to met him and things like that you didn't listen you dad would kill you if you met the guy the guys named 'Jouno Saigiku' he is part of the Hunting Dogs after you dad said not to you wanted to met him to see what all the fuss was about so you walked to where the Hunting Dogs office was and asked for him unfortunately he was busy and you had to wait a bit you sat down and hugged your knees and waited a long time he cane back and talked to some guy with black hair the guy pointed to you and Jouno walked to you and asked what you needed you looked at him and said your name was 'y/n l/n' he sat down next to you and said "oh I've heard some things about you" after a bit of talking he asked for your number and you gave it to him you both talked for a few months and started dating after a bit

Yosano Akiko

you had your leg hurt badly but luckily Dazai helped you to the ADA you saw everyone than Yosano came and said I got them from here Dazai and took your arm and brought you to the healing place you have lost a lot of blood she healed you and gave you something to eat and you both talked after a bit more like a few months you two started to date

#Spotify #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #ranpo x reader #poe x reader #kunikida x reader #jouno x reader #yosano x reader #fanfictions

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artyandink · 4 months

Text

we could be more | dean winchester | 4

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

CHILDREN SHOULDN’T PLAY WITH DEAD THINGS

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : DRIVER’S LICENSE - OLIVIA RODRIGO

“Come on, Sam, I'm begging you. This is stupid.” Dean groaned as he drove the car.

”Why?” Sam asked.

”Going to visit Mom's grave? She doesn't even have a grave- there-there was no body left after the fire.”

“She has a headstone.”

“Yeah, put up by her uncle, a man we've never even met. So you wanna, go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger? Come on.”

“It’s not about that.”

”Enlighten me then, Sam.”

“It's not about a body, or, or, a casket. It's about her memory, okay?”

“Mhmm.”

”And after Dad it ju-just feels like the right thing to do.”

“It's irrational, is what it is.”

”Look, man. No one asked you to come.”

”Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead? I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that thing down.”

”That's a good idea, you should. Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride, and I'll meet you there tomorrow.”

”How about we ask what Beanie wants to do?” Dean turned slightly. “Whatcha wanna do?”

”Go to the graveyard.” I replied. “Believe it or not, my family’s tombstone is nearby. The night my family died was spent in Lawrence.”

“Well, then, you can pay your respects there.” Sam agreed.

We reached the graveyard, and I instantly started searching for our family plot. As soon as I found it, I sat at my dad’s grave, staring at the inscription of his name.

“Hey, dad.” I whispered. “It’s been 7 years since I last saw you, and if I’m being honest, it’s eating me alive cause I need you with me. I found your book and I saw your notes on Sam and Dean, so I found them and they’re protecting me from the dreamwalker cause the devil came after me, but only took away my powers. It feels like I’ve let you down.” My voice started breaking uncontrollably. “You told me to take care of my family, but there’s no one left to protect, so what am I here for?” I felt a tear drop onto my Panic!At the Disco t-shirt. “Dean and Sam have their own problems to deal with, b-but they insist that I don’t intrude. It’s… c-confusing.” I paused. “And there’s another thing. Everyone expects me t-to live up to either yours or mom’s name, but it’s so hard to do. I doubt I can-”

”Beanie!” I heard, so I left some flowers at the grave and went over to Dean.

“What?”

“Does this mean anything to you?” He pointed to the ground. There was a ring of dead grass surrounding a tombstone, along with a wreath of dead flowers. I wiped a tear from my eye, then nodded.

“It’s an odd ring of dead grass around a grave, it’s usually a sign of a troubled spirit or unholy ground.”

“You hear that, Sam?”

“Maybe the groundskeeper went a little agro with the pesticide.” Sam suggested, so I bent down and touched the soil, bringing it up to my face.

“Nope.” I shook my head. “If pesticide was still here, soil wouldn’t be dry. Excesses of it make the soil wet for a few hours after.”

“Okay, so what are you thinking?”

“Unholy ground.”

“Un-“ Sam stopped, looking dumbfounded.

“What? If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground.” Dean explained. “Remember the-the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?”

“Yeah, b-“

”Could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or the-the Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough.” Dean grimaced at Sam’s nod. “Well, don’t get too excited, you might pull something.”

“It's just... stumbling onto a hunt? Here, of all places?”

“So?”

“So… are you sure this is about a hunt and not anything else?”

“What else would it be about?”

“Boys.” I sighed, going and getting a newspaper from a nearby stand.

“You believe what you want, Sam, but -- I let you drag my butt out here, the least we could do is check this out.”

“Yeah. Fine.” Sam grumbled.

“Her dad works as a professor at the university here.” I informed, looking up.

“Dr. Mason?” Dean knocked on the door in the university, and Dr Mason opened it.

“Yes?” He replied.

“I'm Sam. This is Dean, and this is Ivy.” Sam introduced. “We were friends of Angela's. We... we wanted to offer our condolences.”

“Please, come in.” We entered, and while Dean went to the shelves, Sam and I sat down.

“She was beautiful.” Sam smiled, looking at a photo.

“She was.” Dr Mason nodded sadly. I got up, going to the door.

“I’m going to get some fresh air.” I excused, then shut the door behind me. I looked around at the bustling students, and I gulped, remembering my brief time at college before I dropped out.

“You look lost.” I turned to see a dude who seemed to be six foot tall, making me feel small since I was 5’ 8”. He had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a smile that could probably blind me. He was dressed smartly, and glasses framed his eyes, giving him a geeky look. “Are you a student?”

“God, no.” I chuckled. “I’m here visiting Dr Mason with my brothers. We were friends with Angela.” I held out my hand. “I’m Lily Carter.”

“Nate, but the students call me Mr Coleman.” He shook my hand. “I’m sorry about Angela.”

“So am I.” I smiled. “It’s hard, but I’m dealing.”

“Your brothers are helping, huh?”

“More than I think they are.” I nodded. “They’re going through things too, so they need my help as well.”

“Sounds like a good thing.” He grinned, then looked like he was hesitant for something. “C-Can I get your number?”

“Oh, sure.” I pulled out my phone and so did he, and I read out my number. When we were done, his cheeks were red, a goofy smile on his face.

“Do you think we can-“

“Beanie?” Dean and Sam came out from the office, and found me. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” I asked.

“Course I will.” He grinned. “It was great meeting you, Lily Carter.”

“And you, Nate Coleman.” I replied, then walked off with the boys.

“I never knew ‘a breath of fresh air’ meant ‘find a new man’.” Dean teased.

“Dean, it wasn’t like that-“

“Don’t think that we didn’t see you staring at that dude like he was a cup of coffee.” Sam chuckled. “Just couldn’t resist him.”

“I got his number, but-“

“Don’t think we’ve forgotten about Will.” Dean snorted.

“Yeah, Will.” Sam laughed. “Speaking of Will, have you two been in contact since we left?”

“Nope.” I replied. “Just another relationship on the go.”

“We’ve had our fair share.” They both nudged me.

“Speaking of which, where are we staying for tonight?” Dean asked.

“I’ve got a safe house here.” I offered.

“How many safe houses do you have?”

I held up a set of keys.

“Damn.”

The moment we had gotten into the Impala, Dean had been blabbing on about how we ‘found something’. Sam was forever sceptical, and I was trying to find a quiet moment so I could text Nate.

“I'm telling you, there's something going on here. We just haven't found it yet.” Dean repeated as we closed the house door.

“Dean, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing.” Sam groaned.

“Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground.”

”There's no reason for it to be unholy ground. Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful spirit material. You heard her father.”

“Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?”

“You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore.”

“So what, Sam? What, we just bail? Without even figuring out what's going on?”

“I think I know what's going on here. It's the only reason I went along with you this far.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is about Mom’s grave.”

“Oh, he just went there.” I whispered, breathing out.

Dean scoffed. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

“You wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it. Look. Maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad.” Sam persisted.

“I’m not taking this-“ They were interrupted by my keys jingling, and I put my leather jacket on, ignoring their faces as I fixed my crop top.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“Thanks for realising that I’m still here.” I smiled falsely. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m heading to the bar, alone, to get a drink. You two have a copy of the keys if you want to do something similar.” I went out of the door, walking to the bar.

I was busy drinking a whiskey at the bar, merely cause I was in the mood for something fancier than beer.

“You alright, sweetheart?” The bartender asked, prepping a drink.

“Yeah, I’m just getting away from my brothers. They might be wrestling at this point.” I replied with a scoff.

“I used to do that with my brothers. My mom said it should be professional.” He chuckled. “Anyway, I have something for you.” He gave me a Cosmopolitan, and I frowned.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“But the gentleman across the bar did. Paid for it an’ all.” He pointed to…

“Nate.” I half exhaled, half laughed as he walked up to me, sitting down on the bar stool beside me.

“Lily.” Nate grinned. “I never thought I’d see you again, not after your… brothers… whisked you away.”

“Why the emphasis?” I asked, sipping the Cosmo.

“Because I never knew that Lily Carter could be the sister of Sam and Dean Winchester.”

I choked on my drink. “You know?”

“A lot of hunters know who those two are.” He nodded. “So your name isn’t really Lily Carter, is it?”

“Nope.” I chuckled. “Ivonne Rainer.”

“Michael Rainer’s daughter?”

“You bet.” I smirked, then took out his ID, which I’d nifted from his pocket. “And your name isn’t Nate Coleman, is it, Xavier?”

“You got me.” He grinned. “I’m actually Xavier Jackson.”

“I never thought I’d see a hunter work undercover as a school teacher.”

“I joined the day after Angela’s death.” Xavier explained. “Something was up, cause I’d seen her grave. I’ve never seen a more obvious mark of-“

“-unholy ground.” We finished together, then started laughing. I drank my Cosmo to stop laughing, but then he seemed hesitant to say something.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“The first time I saw you with Sam and Dean, I thought you and Dean were dating or you liked each other, and I was scared to text you-“

I started laughing again, wiping a tear of laughter from my eye. “No way, Dean and I are friends! He just calls me Beanie cause I wore one the first time we met.”

”Phew.” He pretended to wipe off sweat from his forehead, adjusting his glasses. “I-I thought I had some competition, to say the least.”

“There’s nothing in your way, trust me.” I grinned.

I woke up, squinting my eyes at the bright light of the sun and sighing. I giggled when an arm wrapped around my waist, somebody peppering kisses along my shoulder.

“Last night was amazing.” Xavier whispered in my ear, and I turned around to face him.

“Last night was a blur.” I joked. “Can you remind me what happened?”

“Are you-“

“I’m kidding!” I laughed, cupping his cheek and rubbing my thumb against it softly. “Yeah, last night was… I don’t have words.”

“Your phone is ringing, though.” He whispered, and I pulled the sheets over me as I reached over, seeing the caller ID.

Sam.

“Oh, damn.” I cursed, then picked it up. “Hey, Sam?”

‘Ivy, thank god. You didn’t come home last night, where are you?’

“You know Nate, right? I met him at the bar, but I was a bit drunk and he took me to his house since it was nearer and neither of us brought cars.”

‘You could’ve called either me or Dean.’

“And risk either of you ranting about how dumb the other person is? Hell no.”

‘True- Dean, you’ll get your chance to talk- hey!’

‘Text me the address, Beanie, I’ll be there in five.’

“Fine.” I cut the call, texted Dean the address, then grabbed my clothes and quickly slipped into them.

“Call me later, yeah?” Xavier asked while putting his shirt on. The moment it went on, I never could’ve guessed he was jacked.

“Of course I will.” I kissed his cheek then his lips, but he kept me there by holding my hips. I pulled back, grinning. “Dean’s gonna give you the dad talk if he finds us kissing, even if he’s not my dad.”

“Right.” He combed his hair while I reapplied my lip gloss, picking up my keys and putting on my jacket.

“By the way,” I breathed, “you have the hottest sleeper build ever.”

“Glad to know.” He smiled, kissing my hand just as the roar of the Impala came from the other side of the door. I opened the door, waving and getting into shotgun, turning to Dean.

“No call.” He lectured. “No text, no warning that you might not be back-“

“Chill, Dean.” I sighed.

“And even after that, there’s no sign of a hangover. In fact, you’re weirdly glowing…” He paused, his head whipping round. “You got laid.”

“I, uh…” He pulled my collar down then let out a loud laugh, returning my collar to where it was. “You did! And by geek guy as well!”

“His name is Xavier.”

“I thought it was Nate.”

“He’s undercover investigating Angela.”

”We’re on a hunt and you got yourself laid.”

“Don’t think I don’t know about Cassie.”

The comment made him pause. “No comment. Was he good?”

“WHAT?!”

”It’s a genuine question! Did he treat you right?”

“He was great.”

“Then I have no problem.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You deserve to be happy, Beanie. My job is to protect you.”

We ended up at Angela’s roommate, Lindsey’s, apartment. Dean unlocked it, and we walked in, and he picked up a picture, but there was a reflection.

Of Lindsey.

“Who the hell are you?” She confronted before she shut the door, seemingly locking it.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on!” Dean called.

“I’m calling 911!”

“Hear me out!” I spoke up. “I’m here with Angela’s cousin. Alan? Alan Stanwick? We’re here to pick up Angela’s stuff because her dad sent us.”

She opened the door slightly. “He never told me you were coming.”

“We have the keys to your house, sweetheart.” I smiled, holding up the keys.

“Who are you?”

“Naomi Wickham.” I lied. “Alan is my… boyfriend.”

She came back out, coming face to face with us. She sat down on the sofa, and started crying, so we sat down and handed her a Kleenex tissue.

“So. I'm sure you got a, a view of Angela that none of the family got to see.” Dean- I mean Alan- said. “Tell me, what, what was she like? I mean, what was she really like?”

”She was great.” She sobbed. “She was so, so…”

“Great?”

“Yeah.” She nodded before breaking down again. In an attempt to play the kind girlfriend, I gave her a tissue.

“Here you go.” I soothed. “You two must have been really close, huh?”

”We were. But it's not just her, it's Matt.”

“Who?” Dean asked.

“Angela’s boyfriend.”

“Right.” I nodded. “What about him?”

“He killed himself last night. He cut his own throat. Who does that?” Lindsey wailed, taking another tissue.

“That’s terrible.”

“He was taking Angela's death pretty hard, and I guess... I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days.”

”Messed up how?” Dean asked.

“He kept on saying that he saw her everywhere.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s normal, with everything he was going through.”

“No, he said that he SAW her. As in, an acid trip or something.”

“Were Angela and Matt a happy couple? I mean, is there any reason that Angela would be angry with him?” Dean persisted.

“What? No, of course not, why do you ask?” She looked confused, so I had to step in.

“Just checking, Lindsey. Where did Matt live?”

We opened the door to my safe house, hearing something weird going on with the television. Sam threw down the remote, acting as if nothing was wrong.

“Hey.” He coughed.

“Hey.” Dean grimaced.

“Awkward.” I whistled. “Let’s not have me come home to that again, eh?”

”Where in the hell were you?” Sam asked, deflecting.

“Working my imaginary case.” Dean sniped.

“Yeah? And?”

“Well, you were right, I didn't find much. Yeah. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night. Slit his own throat. But, you know, that's normal. Uh, let's see, what else. Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings.”

“Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here.”

“Maybe? Sam, I know how to do my job, despite what you might think.”

“Hey, maybe we should check out the overall situation.” I interrupted. “We went to Matt’s apartment and it’s the same thing as the cemetery. Dead plants, hell, even dead goldfish.”

“So, unholy ground?” Sam asked.

“Maybe. I'm still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela.” Dean picked up a pink book, showing it to us. “I have been reading this, though.”

“You stole the girl's diary?”

“Yeah, and if anything, she’s a little too nice.” I remembered a book from Dr Mason’s room, so I pulled out every language book I had in my satchel.

”Are you kidding me? I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world.” Dean turned to me. “What’s going on, Beanie?”

“Did you see a book with strange symbols in Dr Mason’s room?” I asked, flipping the book.

“Yeah, I showed him it.”

“I’m gonna need at least a few samples.”

“I didn't realise the college employed grief counsellors.” We were at the house of a guy named Neil, who seemed to be close friends with Angela.

“Oh yeah. Yeah, you talk, we listen. Or maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever jump-starts the healing.” Dean nodded.

“Well, I think I’m ok, thanks.” Neil refused.

“You heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.” I smiled. “Grief can make people do crazy things.”

”Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself it wasn't 'cause of grief.”

“No? Then why?”

“It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault and he knew it.” He said it almost bitterly, piquing my interest.

”How, Neil?”

“Well, she really loved that guy. But the night of the accident she walked in on him with another girl.” Neil explained. “She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car. Um, look, I gotta get ready for work, so ... thanks for the concern, but... seriously, I'll be okay.”

We left the house, a little more assured than last time.

“Well, that vengeful spirit theory's starting to make a little more sense.” Dean shrugged. “I mean, hell hath no fury...”

“So if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?” Sam asked as we got into the car. I was in the driver’s this time to give Dean a break.

“Well, there's one way to be sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Burn the bones.”

“Are you high?” I scoffed. “By ‘burning the bones’ you mean burning a still rotting body. That could release an angrier spirit.”

“C’mon,” Dean chuckled, “since when are you afraid to get your hands dirty?”

We were digging Angela’s grave, the three of us panting as we tossed soil into a large pile. When we were done, Dean gestured to the coffin.

“Ladies first.” He joked to Sam, who winced and opened the coffin-

“What the hell?” I exclaimed. The coffin was empty.

“This can’t be possible.” Sam frowned.

“They buried the body four days ago.” Dean fumed.

“I don’t get it.”

I aimed my torch at the side of the coffin, seeing inscriptions. I got in, bending down so I could see the letters properly.

“Beanie? Got something?” Dean called. I pulled a pen and a flip notepad out of my inside pocket, balancing the notepad on my knee as I quickly wrote down the inscriptions, every small marking possible. “Beanie!”

“We need to get back to the safe house.” I clicked my tongue, holding out my torch to see the paper. “I’m not translating this thing in a graveyard.”

“Alright, what now?” Dean asked, sitting down at the table. I sipped a cup of coffee, taking out every language book in my satchel and laying them out on the table, opening them to the title page. Then I reached in, digging my hand around, shoulder deep.

“Ivy, say something.” Sam urged.

“Alright, then.” I cleared my throat, still searching. “Where is this thing? Oh, right. So, that is an Ancient Greek dialect, as you know. But it’s gonna take me days to find the right one, and we don’t have that kind of time, so I need a little help.” I closed my fingers around a long cylindrical vial full of clear liquid. “Is this the truth serum?” I pulled the cap off, tapping the side twice. It glowed blue, so I smiled. “This is it.” I dipped a finger in it and made an inscription on the paper, feeling proud that I could actually still somewhat retain something from my witch days. “It’s actually relieving that I can still use some parts of sorcery.” I poured a careful amount in my hand and flicked it, drops of water landing on the front pages, but they absorbed the liquid and were left dry.

“What are we waiting for?” Sam whispered.

“Wait for it.” I grinned, and then the pages of every book started moving, flipping back and forth, searching for the right dialect.

“This is cool.” Dean laughed, his hands out and his expression like a child. “We’re experiencing witchery firsthand, Sammy.”

“I can see that, Dean.” Sam quickly replied. Then some books started closing with a snap, all of them shutting until one in the top left corner opened on a page with the exact dialect on it. I picked it up, placing it down on the left of the sheet I’d copied the scripture down on.

“Vitam superiorem voco. Legiones inferorum voco. Magnam virtutem invoco, o diabole, ut hanc animam vivifices. Mihi, illis, vitae.” I recited.

”Hey, you might summon a body!” Dean warned, but I waved him off.

“I need to inscribe this on a coffin for it to work, so chill, you little squirrel.” I chuckled, then looked over them again. “Translation: I call it a higher life. I call the legions of hell. I invoke a great power, O devil, for you to revive this soul. For me, for them, and for life.” I whistled. “This is an incantation for a ritual typically used in necromancy. You can use it to chat to souls on the other side or revive fresh corpses. But you can’ just do a random person, it has to be someone close to you and it requires a blood sacrifice.”

“Blood sacrifice?” Sam repeated.

“You heard me. Person we’re looking for most likely has a rune in their arm. But best bet? Dr Mason. Man knows his Ancient Greek.” I drew air in through my teeth, stacking the books one by one and placing them in my satchel.

“I know we’ve never really touched the subject, but…” Sam pointed to my arm, the one with the rune on it, “how do you get by without your powers?”

“I’ve done a lot of hobbies, and one was hunting. I’ve been training since I was around six or seven, which was when Dad taught me how to draw pretty shapes with salt, what he called holy water and oil. Then when I was ten, he gave me books on different creatures and how to kill ‘em. Then when I was thirteen, he took me to a range in the middle of the woods where he taught me to shoot. By the time I was off to college, I was an expert marksman, a good fighter since he’d put me in martial arts, I knew almost everything there is to know about things and how to kill ‘em. I only got my powers at 19, so I could get by pretty well if I didn’t have ‘em.”

“Your dad taught you well.” Dean smirked.

“Yeah, by the time I was, what, fifteen, I could just do this.” I covered my eyes, aiming for a target board on the wall and firing, uncovering my eyes and seeing that it hit bullseye.

“I couldn’t do that at fifteen.” He grumbled. I checked the time, then cleared my throat.

“I’ve gotta go, boys.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“I’ve got a date.” The two whistled, making me grimace. “You’re both idiots.”

“Well, c’mon, we need to get you ready!” Sam grinned, starting to fluff up my hair. Dean folded my jacket’s collar, clicking his tongue.

“You go and spend some time with Xavier, we’ll confront the old man.” Dean winked.

“If we need you, we’ll call you.”

“Thanks, guys.” I smiled. “Even if you two are both annoying.”

”You’re like our sister, Beanie.” Dean smirked, taking my necklace and hanging it down the front of my shirt, where the green stone was visible. “But if Xavier breaks your heart, I am taking my pistol and going for him myself.”

”I don’t know, maybe I can talk to Angela to get the deed done.”

I was waiting for Xavier outside a bar, when I felt someone’s presence.

“Who’s there?” I frowned, putting my hand on my gun.

“Don’t shoot.” Angela was beside me. “You’re Ivonne. Ivy.”

”Speaking.” I still kept my hand on my gun. “But why?”

”I know your brother. Carter.” She explained. “We met on the other side and asked me to find you. He wants to tell you who took over his mind the night he died.”

”Tell me.” I gritted my teeth. “Angela, so help me, tell me who did it.”

”It was-“

”Ivy?” Xavier was walking towards me, and the next thing I knew, Angela was gone. “Hey.”

”Hey.” I grinned, pecking him on the cheek. “It’s been such a long time.”

”I know, eight hours is way too long.”

After a while of talking, I got a phone call from Dean. I picked it up, sighing. “Really? Three hours?”

’It wasn’t Dr Mason.’ Dean replied. ‘But, uh, we need some help with the rest of this.’

“Do you need my help so you don’t verbally assault anyone else?”

‘Pretty much.’

“I’ll be there.” I cut the call, grimacing. “The boys need me.”

”That’s fine.” Xavier shrugged. “I don’t mind it, cause I know how it is. Go, solve the case.”

”Ok, Xavier.” I smiled, giving him a kiss. “Thanks.”

”Go get it, then thank me again.” He grinned, and I picked up my stuff, got a taxi and drove back to the safe house. I unlocked the door, hung up my jacket, and went into the kitchen.

“You needed me?”

”We think Neil is the one who brought back Angela.” Sam explained.

”Is there some voodoo that you can use to track the spell’s caster down?”

“There should be, yeah.” I nodded, reaching in my satchel and pulling out a spell book and a bundle of rosemary. I arranged the rosemary into a rune, writing Neil’s name onto a sheet of paper and taking Dean’s lighter, muttering an incantation before burning the paper, letting it fall onto the rosemary. All of it burnt to ashes, but then turned red and started forming a person. A person who looked like the spitting image of Neil himself. “There we go.”

“Neil resurrected Angela.” Sam breathed. “The things you’d do for love.”

“But these things are typically what you shouldn’t do.” I clicked my tongue. “Sam, anything in John’s journal?”

“No lore.” He shook his head.

“What, you can’t just smoke ‘em with a headshot?” Dean asked.

“Man, you watch way too many Romero flicks.”

“Well, they can’t be unkillable.” I pulled out a book and opened it. “Oh, god help me, this is in Babylonian even though it’s an Ancient Greek manner of killing the revived. Give me a second.” I peered at it for a second. “The most sure-fire way to kill these things is through a blood sacrifice. Theirs. In order to get the blood, they say you have to ‘nail the dead into their grave beds’.”

“We have to find dear Angie, then.” Dean resolved, storing his gun on his person.

”But Angela’s going to be hard to neutralise, so prepare silver bullets just in case.” I replaced the cartridge full of lead bullets in my gun with a cartridge of silver bullets.

“Got it.”

We unlocked the door to Neil’s house, my gun held up.

“Hello? Neil?! It's your grief counsellors- we've come to hug.” Dean called, and I gave him a look. “What?”

“Really?!” I whispered as he pulled out a gun.

“Silver bullets?” Sam asked.

“Enough to make her rattle like a change purse.” Dean smirked.

“Wilted plants.” I nodded. “And creepy basement door. Unless he keeps his private collections down there, I’d say this is a good place to keep a killer zombie.” Sam opened the door and both Dean and I sped to the landing, holding our guns out as we stepped down the stairs. However, it was empty.

“Sure looks like a zombie pen to me.”

“An empty one. You think she’s gone to get someone?”

Dean pulled back a vents revealing a hole. “Nah, I think she’s gone to rent beaches.”

“Look, smartass, she might kill someone. We gotta find her, Dean.”

“Well, Matt was killed because he cheated on Angela, right?” I asked, hands in my pockets.

“Yeah.” They both answered.

“So it takes two to tango. Plus, Angela’s roommate Lindsey seemed a little too attached to Matt’s death.” I deduced. “I think we need to pay another visit to Lindsey.”

We drove up to Lindsey’s house, running up to the front door. We opened it and I ran past the boys, aiming at Angela and firing three times. She writhed, screaming and facing us. I shot one more time, hitting Angela in the chest, and she cried out and ran out of the window.

“I’ve got you.” Sam whispered to Lindsey, holding her. Dean ran out of the window that Angela burst through, running back in a second later.

“Well, that dead chick can run.” Dean scoffed. “I think we should have a little chat with Neil.” We made sure Lindsey was safe before running to the car, getting in and driving off to Neil’s house.

”So the silver bullets, they did something, right?”

“Something, but not enough.”

“Time to try the nailing into their grave thing as a Plan B.” I grimaced. “I know where we can get a pole from, so I’ve made a call. This is probably where all the vampire lore comes from, now that I think of it.”

“How the hell are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery?” Dean asked.

“You tell me, Winchester.” We pulled up at Neil’s office, knocking sharply on the door. When there was no answer, I took a picking tool and opened it, all of us advancing into his room.

“What are you guys doing here?” Neil asked, standing up.

“You know, I've heard of people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid, but you -- you take the cake.” Dean scoffed.

“Ok- who are you guys?”

“You might want to ask Angela that question.”

“What?”

“We know what you did, Neil.” I persisted. “You brought back Angela. Kid, I’ve gone through a fair share of rituals myself and I know one when I see one.”

“You're crazy.” Neil stammered.

“Your girlfriend's past her expiration date and we're crazy?” Dean scoffed. “When someone's gone they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff.”

”It’s black magic, Neil.” I sighed.

“Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill Lindsey.” Sam exclaimed urgently.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Neil whispered.

Dean stomped over, taking Neil roughly by the collar. “Hey! No more messin’ around, Neil. His blood is on your hands. Now. All of us can make this right, but you've gotta tell us where she is. Tell us!”

“She’s at my house!” He burst out, looking hounded. Dean spotted a wilted plant and so did Sam and I, so Dean formulated a plan.

”You sure about that?” When Neil nodded, Dean smirked his proud smirk. “Listen. It doesn't really matter where she is. There's only one way to stop her. We've got to perform another ritual over her grave, to reverse the one that you did. We're going to need some black root, some-some scar weed, some candles... It's very complicated, but it'll get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple hours. I think you should come with us.” Dean stared intently. “I'm serious, Neil. Leave with us. Right now.”

“No, no.”

I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. “I get your situation, Neil. But more people could die. So, listen to me carefully. Get out of here as soon as you can. But most of all, be cool. No sudden movements. Don't make her mad.” He nodded shakily, and I patted him in the shoulder. I raised my voice deliberately, turning to Sam and Dean. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“You really think this is going to work?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Dean shrugged. “But it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

”You ordered a metal pole?” Xavier showed up with a pointy metal rod, which he gave to Dean.

“Yeah, we did.” I grinned, kissing Xavier briefly. “Thanks, Zay.”

“We owe you, man.” Sam grinned, shaking his hand.

“Yeah, we do, Zay.” Dean teased. “I’m kidding. Name’s Dean.”

“Xavier, as you know.” He smirked, both of them shaking hands. We heard a noise, and I pulled a gun from my arm holster, going in the direction of the sound. I heard steps behind me, so I turned around and pointed my gun at Angela, who stopped short, putting her hands up.

“Wait! It's not what you think. I didn't ask to be brought back.” She begged. “But it's still me. I'm still a person. Please.”

“Do I care?” I scoffed, then shot her in the forehead. Her head snapped back as she screamed, and I started for the grave, but she tackled me, and twisted my head back.

“I could’ve told you who killed your brother!” She snarled. “Now you have to die, just like he did.”

“Yeah, right.” I shot her in the chest, getting up and shooting again. Another bullet joined me: Dean’s. We both fired at her again and again, until she reached the end, to which Xavier fired a shot from his gun, and she fell in. Dean took the pole, stabbing it into her.

“What’s dead should stay dead.” He growled.

“WAIT! NO-“ Dean drove the stake through her, and she immediately went limp, cutting off her last plea.

”Finally.” I groaned, replacing my cartridge.

Dean seemed rather off after we re-killed Angela, and Sam wanted to keep Xavier company, so the other two were driving back to my house in Xavier’s car. Dean’s hands were gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white, and then he suddenly pulled over. He got out and so did I, watching as he sat down on the hood.

“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting down.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, looking down.

“For what, Dean?”

“The way I've been acting. And for Dad. It’s my fault that he’s dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you and Sam've been thinking it -- so have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later Dad's dead and the Colt's gone.”

I sighed. “Dean…”

“You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know.”

“We don’t know that, not for sure.”

“You, Sammy and Dad ... you're the most important people in my life.” He started crying, and I took his hand. “And now ... I never should've come back, Ivy. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead. You and Sam wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it. So tell me. What could you possibly say to make that all right?”

“I can’t.” I whispered, but I instead leaned his head on my shoulder, letting him cry it out. “But I know how you feel.”

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#dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn masterlist #supernatural oc #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x you #supernatural #ivonne rainer

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technicallymaximumkitty · 2 months

Text

playlists

I made playlist for hazbin hotel characters

charlie, vaggie, alastor, angel dust, husk, niffty, sir pentious (bonus adam)

❤️ Charlie ❤️

❤️ Humility, gorillaz

❤️ Lights, ellie goulding

❤️ Gateway to the stars, skeleton staff

❤️ Cry baby, melody martinez

❤️ Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows, Lesley gore

❤️ KK bubblegum, animal crossing

❤️ Charlie’s inferno, the handsome devil

❤️ The exorcist, calypso

❤️ Space unicorns, parry gripp

❤️ Out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

❤️ Heathens, 21 pilots

❤️ Devil town, cavetown

❤️ Rat, penelope scott

💜 Vaggie 💜

💜 Saint benard, lincoln

💜 Angel with a shotgun, the cab

💜 I wouldn't mind, he is we

💜 Hell’s coming with me, poor man’s poison

💜 Mary on a cross, ghost

💜 Notion, the rare occasion

💜 Butch 4 butch, rio romeo

💜 Training wheels, melody martinez

💜 All the good girls go to hell, billie eilish

💜 Soku eye, gorillaz

💜 Spear of justice, toby fox

💜 Roar, katy perry

💜 Raincoat, studio killers

🧡 Alastor 🧡

🧡 Twisted, missio

🧡 All eyes on me, or3o

🧡 Our love is god, heathers musical

🧡 Animals, maroon 5

🧡 Dismemberment song, blue kid

🧡 Animal cannibal, karen skladany

🧡 We'll meet again, vera lynn

🧡 Terry's taxidermy, teddy hyde

🧡 Christmas kids, roar

🧡 Arms tonite, mother mother

🧡 The hunting song, tom lehrer

🧡 Necromancing dancing, bear ghost Happy face, jagwar twin

🩷 Angel Dust 🩷

🩷 Epoch, the living tombstones

🩷 Say amen (saturday night) panic! At the disco

🩷 Bad romance, lady gaga

🩷 Candy store, heathers musical

🩷 Grrrls, aviva

🩷 Take a hint, victorious cast

🩷 Bubble gum bit*h, marina and the diamonds

🩷 Baby hotline, jack starbur

🩷 Weak, AJR

🩷 Bad habits, steve lacy

🩷 Vending machine of love, the stupendium

🩷 Front street, will wood and the tapeworms

🩷 Control, halsey

🤎 Husk 🤎

🤎 Let me down slowly, alec benjamin

🤎 Dirty harry, gorillaz

🤎 Ghosting, mother mother

🤎 Hand me my shovel i am going in, will wood and the tapeworms

🤎 The good, the bad and the dirty, panic! At the disco

🤎 The gambler, kenny rogers

🤎 Let's get this over with, they might be giants

🤎 Cats, dogs, and rats, rare americans

🤎 Your gonna go far kid, the offsrping

🤎 Pardon me, he is we

🤎 Coffee, jack starbur

🤎 Look who’s inside again, bo burham

🤎 Tennessee whiskey, chris stapleton

🤍 Niffty 🤍

🤍 Girlfriend, hemlock spring

🤍 Body, mother mother

🤍 Bill waterson, lemon demon

🤍 The masochism tango, tom lehrer

🤍 The red means i love you, madds buckley

🤍 Cell block tango, Chicago musical

🤍 Runs in the family, amanda palmer

🤍 Killer queen, queen

🤍 Hello kitty, avril lavigne

🤍 Pretty little psycho, theexorcist

🤍 Cannibal, kesha

🤍 Barbie girl, aqua

🤍 Curses, crane wives

💛 Sir Pentious 💛

💛 Love like you, steven universe

💛 Give and take, poor man’s poison

💛 Oh klahoma, jack starbar

💛 I’ll rust with you, steam powered giraffe

💛 Mr blue sky, electric light orchestra

💛 Hidden in the sand, tally hall

💛 Egg and soldiers, cosmo sheldrake

💛 Rhinestone eyes, gorillaz

💛 Man made objects, lemon demon

💛 Under my skin, jukebox ghost

💛 Bang!, AJR

💛 Secrets, one republic

💛 Savior of the skies, the cog is dead

🩵 Adam 🩵

🩵 Main character, will wood and the tapeworms

🩵 Stick it to the man, school of rock

🩵 Eighth wonder, lemon demon

🩵 Verbatim, mother mother

🩵 They’re only human, death note musical

🩵 American idiot, green day

🩵 5/4, gorillaz

🩵 Punk tactics, joey valance and brae

🩵 Kiss me son of god, they might be giants

🩵 DONTTRUSTME, 3OH!3

🩵 blood//water, grandson

🩵 Another way out, hollywood undead

🩵 Modern day cain, I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #charlie morningstar #alastor #angel dust #niffty #hazbin hotel husk #sir pentious #vaggie hazbin hotel #character playlist #songs

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peachesofteal · 8 months

Note

Ghoap x reader zombie apocalypse AU? 👀 just gonna leave that here...

Ooh anon you got me with this. Thought about it all night. A full fic of this dynamic in an apocalypse setting would be so good. Sadly, I don't have it in me to write an entire fic for this but I scratched it out as a dead disco au down below on my phone (I took bits and pieces of zombie media and smashed them together as I like):

18+ MDNI / angst, death

It was an accident.

All you had wanted to do was try to find some mushrooms. You knew this part of the woods usually had a fair amount to forage, and you were pretty good at distinguishing the good ones from the not so good ones. You hadn't meant to get distracted.

You knelt down to the forest floor, picking at a piece of bark on a downed log when you heard the rustling, the suspect sound of something moving through the brush near you.

You expected one of the slow ones. The ones that usually found themselves this far from the city, wandering aimlessly, looking for the next meal. Decaying and rotting flesh hanging from their limbs, a sign they had been long infected, the decomposition marking them as something easily escapable.

You did not expect a runner.

You screamed- a huge no no, as Simon had been drilling into your head- when you saw it, far too late, tripping over yourself to try to get away, your hunting knife pressed into the palm of your hand.

You stood little chance against a runner. They were fresh, muscles still intact, lactic acid burning through their bodies, movements fast and sharp, able to take down an entire human in one fell swoop. They even looked like you, still holding their pallor, their posture, their fine motor skills.

Only their minds were gone. Addled by the infection, brains turned to hot mush inside their skulls.

They had one objective.

Eat.

You managed to clear the log, sprinting as fast as you possibly could, trying to take long, deep breaths through your nose just as Johnny taught you.

"More oxygen that way, love. It'll help your endurance, keep you runnin' longer."

They were always doing that now, equipping you for survival. Trying to train you like a solider, teaching you the finer points they thought you should know.

"We're gonna make it, together." Simon had said, the morning they showed up in the middle being away for work, clad in full tactical gear, guns in hand. "As a family."

"Ye have to listen to everything we say, alright darling? Everything's goin' to be okay." Johnny promised at the same time as you tried to pack some essentials into your backpack with trembling fingers.

They were obsessed with trying to instill as much of their knowledge into as possible, trying to prepare you, help you, listing off rules they thought were key, ensuring you knew to follow them.

One being: don't get distracted.

You curse yourself, feet flying underneath your body and heart thrumming in your chest with panic. You're too slow, and you can hear it behind you, sprinting just as fast as you are, preparing to launch and take down it's next meal.

You don't see the snare of brambles until you're in them, nearly slamming to a stop, thorns scratching against your skin as you fight against the thicket. It's too dense, slowing your ability to get away... and the runner is still hot on your heels, working its way through the mess, snapping its jaw like a shark.

Simon comes out of nowhere. One second you're hacking away at the branches and the next, there's a massive, solid warmth at your back, standing between you and the snarling monster. He's facing away from you, brandishing a knife, engaged in a full fight with the runner, taking it to the ground in an attempt to get the blade into its temple. You watch mouth wide, frozen, holding your breath until the job is done, and Simon is hauling himself upwards, pulling you into his arms before stepping back to look you over.

You burst into tears. You've always told them, you're not for this kind of world. You're too gentle, too sensitive. You're a painter, for fucks sake. Not a killer. You're too soft to survive.

They say it doesn't matter. That you can be as soft as you want, because you have them, and they'll be the killers. They'll be the hard ones.

"Did it get you? Let me see, c'mon-" He checks your arms, your neck, the tear on your shirt but finds nothing. "Alright, you're alright." He's telling you, and himself, relief exhaling from his body with each syllable. "You're alright, darling. I've got ya. Come here." He holds you tight, rubbing your back, kissing your cheek, your forehead until you're calm, breathing deeply and wiping your face.

You believe the worst has passed, until you blink up at him, and see the blood on his neck.

The bite.

"We need to make a plan."

"We're nae makin' a bloody plan." Johnny hisses, and Simon closes his eyes like he's tired. "We keep goin'. We'll make it to the rendezvous with Price and they'll have a solution. We dinnae even know how fast it spreads."

Simon lets loose a sigh, heavy with exhaustion. With the toll that this life has become. With the weight, of everything. He tucks you into his body, wrapping his other arm around Johnny, and holds the two of you close. Tightly. Tighter than he ever has before.

"Alright."

The next morning, everything is different.

You woke up last, fire still barely smoldering, little energy bar on the ground next to you. The guys sleeping bags were already rolled up, stacked neatly with Simon's pack, and the long gun that Johnny carries.

But they were nowhere to be found.

Confused, you slid free, stretching with a silent groan, scanning your surroundings until you spot them on the edge of the woods, locked together on their feet, Johnny's face mashed against Simon's neck, strong arms holding him close.

"What's going on?" The question comes out confused when you get close, and Johnny pulls away with wet eyes, hands shaking. What's happening? Why are they both crying? Fear screams through your body, red alert systems firing up as your brain struggles to put all the pieces together.

"Simon-" Johnny begins, but stops abruptly, eyes slamming shut, lips pressed together in agony.

"'m not feelin' too well." Simon explains gently. "You and Johnny are gon’ start on ahead, and 'm gonna stay here for a while." Something, something logical, something smart, is shouting at you from the back of your mind but you shove it away, opting for delusion instead.

"Okay, you're going to catch up though, right? You said. We'll find-" You frowned, looking from him to Johnny as a sick feeling grew in your stomach. "Johnny?"

“Look at me.” Simon combs through your hair with trembling fingers, unsteady for the first time in your entire existence. “I love you, darling. I love you so, so much.”

“S-stop, we're supposed to stay together, you- you said-“

“You have to go with Johnny now, okay? He’s gonna take care of you.” He jerks you forward, closed mouth pressing against your forehead. "I love you."

“No, Si.” You sob, fingers curled in his vest. “You have to come with us. You have to, we’ll fi-find a cure, they’ll be help, somewhere.”

“Johnny.” He chokes, and a strong arm wraps around your waist, Johnny’s heavy, tearful breathing echoing just above your ear. Someone works your fingers free, pulling your hand away but not letting go, holding onto you like a lifeline.

You look up between him, to his face, to Simon’s and realize. They’ve already said goodbye.

Simon strokes the back of his fingers down Johnny’s cheek, tears dripping down his own.

“I love you both, more than anything. More than life.” He squeezes your hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of your knuckles, and then steps away, pulling the handgun from the holster on his thigh. "Take care of each other."

"NO!" you scream, but Johnny is dragging you backwards like a rag doll, away from where Simon stands in clearing, gaze never breaking from the two of you, face wet with tears. "Johnny!"

"Darling-" he chokes out amidst a sob. "Shhh, please. Please." He begs you to be quiet, to hush, but you can't, you can't stop screaming, or fighting him, trying to get back to Simon, to reunite your family, to stay together. You scream and scream until Johnny’s hand claps over your mouth, his own words clogged by his cries, pleading and begging until he's cutting off your oxygen with a desperate apology and lifting you over his shoulder like dead weight.

The last thing you hear before you lose consciousness is the sound of a gunshot.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #I could be convinced #dead disco zombie au

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