#I don’t want to play with strangers but like idk where to find people

[changguscomet]

I kinda want to get into dnd but I feel like it’s … cliquey almost ?? I don’t know how to explain it

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

the albatross - m. murdock

a/n: hi everyone! so this is that weird and off putting reader i was mentioning earlier! she's not that weird but she's sort of odd so yeah. also i know bucky is the winter soldier but idk how else to tag this so oh well! i do have lore and stuff for readers time as a soldier so i'll include that in later installments! i was kind of in a writers block and this pushed me out of that. so enjoy! please please tell me what you thought and if you want more! warnings: cursing, mentions of death, war, torture, pain, people being dead, reader having horrible people skills and ptsd, mentions of sex maybe? uhmmm in general reader is just sort of strange and this is her and matt's early relationship, so sorry if i missed anything ! word count: 3.6k summary: you have spent the past ninety (give or take) years tortured and in pain. then, a handsome stranger comes into your life and changes everything. pairing: matt murdock x winter soldier!fem!reader now playing: the albatross - taylor swift "i'm the albatross/i swept in at the rescue/the devil that you know/looks now more like an angel/i'm the life you chose/and all this terrible danger"

You’re working a morning shift at the bakery when he comes in. The pastries in the case are laid out just so, and you have been meticulously working on this sign for your fall specials. You are determined to focus on something that is not how poorly you slept, your hair tied up in a braid behind you as you work.

You’re determined to get these pumpkin stems drawn correctly; a green marker clenched in your hand. Your knuckles are white with the tension you are holding in your fingers. It’s around eight in the god damn morning, and you have been awake since around three a.m.

You don’t even hear the bell ring, nor do you hear the click-clacking of a cane on the tiled floors, you only hear an awkward clearing of the throat, to which you spin around, about to throw the marker at the customer, but stopping when you realize what you’re doing.

The customer smiles awkwardly at you, and you recognize instantly that between his glasses and cane, he is most definitely blind. You almost feel silly, until you remember everything, and you wish that there was more moments where you think you’re silly for being paranoid.

And there’s something else, too. You look at this man for a few moments, before realizing that he is so god damn hot. Which, is weird, because you have not felt anything for any man or woman in years, too busy focusing on other things, too busy thinking about everything that’s happened. But god, the stubble tracing his face, the way his dark hair falls, and the way his hand wraps around his cane..

But what gets you really is his lips. Maybe you’re staring, maybe you don’t care. But his lips are this pretty pink, and you find yourself getting lost in the nicest daydream you’ve had in a very long time..

And then, you snap out of that fantasy to remind yourself that you are working and don’t even know his name.

“Hi, sorry,” You cough awkwardly, “Was just focused,” You tell him, approaching the counter. You wipe your sweaty hands on your apron, before putting on your best ‘I’m a friendly bakery worker who just wants to sell you pastries, also tip me please!’ smile on. “What can I get you?” You ask.

“Do you guys have apple turnovers?” It is the first time this fall that is under 65 degrees, so you understand that there is some cravings for autumn snacks.

“Yeah, yeah,” You move towards the case to get some, “Just the one?”

“Three, actually. For the office.” He hums.

“Some big office,” Your voice is a sarcastic mumble, not really for the an to hear but he chuckles at it, and you almost think it’s weird that he an hear you but your brain tells you not to judge, since there is a whole lot the handsome stranger could judge you for.

“We’re a small business. Very friendly, very personable.”

You cannot help yourself, and you find yourself asking, “What sort of business are you in?” What the handsome stranger does not know is that you are insatiably angry at yourself for asking that because you had pretty much promised yourself that you were never going to have any sort of relationship—it wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And as previously established, that wasn’t a problem, because you weren’t really attracted to anyone before this handsome stranger waltzed on into the bakery.

“I’m a lawyer.” He smiles. A lawyer.

“Well, Mr. Lawyer, your total is 10.75.” He pulls out a twenty and when you hand him change, he asks, “Which one is the five?” and you wordlessly pull out the five from the stack you handed him, before he puts the rest of the change in his wallet, dropping a five and a small card into your tip jar. “You have a good day now.” He hums, before making his way out of the bakery.

You watch intently, maybe a little too intently, and you hear the voice of your best friend from your teenage years in your head saying, ‘You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.’ And a small smile finds its way to your face.

Then, you notice the card he dropped in the jar before fishing it out. On the front, it reads,

‘Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law.’ On the back, you read,

‘Nelson, Murdock & Page, Attorneys at Law,

Hell’s Kitchen’

Accompanied by this is a phone number and an address.

You pocket the card, and before you know it, costumers are flooding in, and you ease into the day, forgetting about the handsome stranger until you leave the bakery at around six o’clock that night. You finish cleaning up from the day before letting the woman who works to prep for the next day. Then you leave, heading home to the too quiet, too small apartment.

You don’t have much in your apartment. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you have a cheap TV on your dresser. You spend most of your time catching up on books or movies. You make yourself box mac and cheese before eating it right out of the pot, sitting on your kitchen floor.

As you cook the mac and cheese, you say his name over and over again, letting it sit on your tongue and escape your lips, thinking about him intently. You glance at your watch and decide that maybe it’s early enough that he might still be at his office.

You fish your tiny flip phone out of your pocket, dialing the number on the card and waiting. You’re holding your breath as the phone rings. A thought runs through your brain that maybe he gave you a wrong number and then your brain immediately reminds you that no man is ever going to give you his card, printed out, just to fuck with you.

“Nelson, Murdock & Page, how can I help you?” A voice asks, and you blink, hesitating for a minute.

“Uh, I’m looking for Matthew.” You say, and there’s some light shuffling, and again, this regret shoots over you until you hear a very smooth, very familiar voice,

“Hey,” His voice is like honey and you long to hear it clearer—The first time you’ve desired a better phone. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Yeah, well, Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”

“You know usually, that’s my line.”

“Wait, that works on people?” You hear his laugh on the other side of the phone and a shiver runs down your spine as you itch to make him laugh more.

“Telling people they’re beautiful doesn’t hit the same when you’re blind.”

“I guess not..” There’s a silence on his end of the phone, before he says,

“I never got your name.” For a moment, you consider giving him a fake name, but you find yourself giving him your name, the one that your parents gave you all those years ago. It’s foreign on your lips, a rare gem that you do not often give out. He repeats it and you swear you could almost die right then and there. “What are you doing tonight?” 

You’re taken back by his forwardness, not anticipating that maybe this handsome stranger, Matthew, wants to be around you just as bad as you want to be around him. And then you look around at your dingy apartment, with your boxy TV, the gun under your pillow, and you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, having just finished eating box mac and cheese with a wooden spoon that just for a second tastes like the one your mother used to cook with, the one you’d get tastes of sauces, soups, anything you could get your hands on.

And then you remember everything that happened after those days sneaking tastes of your mom’s cooking and you feel guilty for pursuing handsome Matthew, because he has no idea what he is getting into.

“Just finished dinner. Was planning on just relaxing.” Reading until around midnight and then getting an hour or two of sleep.

“Well, how about we go do something?” You detect a bit of hopefulness in his voice. You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself,

“Like, like a date?” And he laughs again.

“Yes, like a date.”

“I don’t know,” You start, “Usually I have to ask my father’s permission before I go out on the town with a boy.” You want to slap your hand over your mouth because you sound your age. Oh god.

“Really?”

“..No.” You hope he finds your weird, totally not a cover up, joke funny. And he laughs again, telling you,

“You’re funny.”

Yeah, really fucking hilarious.

“So, a date?”

“A date.” You consider this for a moment. A date might lead somewhere real. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you haven’t been in.. years. Years might be an understatement. Your heart thuds against your chest, and you find yourself full of that nostalgic thing you call desire.

“What would we do?”

“Anything you want.” He tells you.

“Anything? That’s dangerous.” Because this whole thing is dangerous, you want to tell him, maybe you should mention the whole age thing, the whole assassin thing, the whole brainwashing thing, the whole thing.

“Yeah? What dangerous things do you have in mind, doll?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear to breathe, because it feels like someone just took the winds out of your sails. Suddenly it is 1940 something and a boy is flirting with you, and you have to act like a lady in hopes that he will treat you right.

Odd thing to think about today, but you’re an odd person.

“What about ice cream and a bookstore?” You ask, and for a moment you want to hit yourself for not suggesting something cool like a club or something and then you realize that you have no idea what counts as a cool date in this day and age.

Did you know when you were a teenager and had the world at your fingertips, eighty (give or take) years ago?

But to your surprise, handsome Matthew just responds,

“That sounds nice. Do you want me to pick you up at your apartment?”

The idea of handsome Matthew being at your tiny apartment that is not suitable for a date makes your heart race.

“I’ll meet you at the ice cream place in an hour. You know the one near the bakery?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

“Yeah. See you.” And when you hang up, you realize just what has happened. For the first time since 1944, You have landed yourself a date with a handsome man that is genuinely interested in you and in your infinite wisdom decided that ice cream and books were the best way to impress him.. Books.. Blind man.

You lightly bang your head against the counter behind you, muttering to yourself how stupid that was. But you an only dwell on it for a moment before you are standing up and making your way over to your room to get ready.

You’re still in your work uniform. And you look like an idiot. So, you clean yourself up and pull on something presentable, something comfortable. There is no confusion as to the nature of this meet up, you two are going on a date and you asked a blind man to go to a bookstore. You feel like an asshole. And you’re aware that you’re putting emphasis on that, but still!

You go through outfits and outfits, trying to figure out what an appropriate outfit is for this first date. You end up in something casual, and you hope you’re not underdressed. Honestly, you know you’re making a fuss over something as standard as a date, but you are genuinely desperate to have this go well.

You finally decide on an outfit and make your way out the door, grabbing your jacket and stepping out of the apartment. You stop outside of your door before turning around and going back into your room to change your top.

But eventually, you do get to the ice cream place Matt and you had discussed on the phone. And there he is, in all his glory, wearing the same outfit he wore when you saw him in the bakery that morning, only, without his tie, and he looks more disheveled. Somehow it’s more charming to see him like this, more exhilarating to imagine a life with such a low stakes man (You’ll look back on this thought later and laugh)

“Hi,” You greet, and Matt smiles in your direction.

“Hi.” He hums, and again, you feel nervous! So, before he can say much else, you blurt out,

“So, This is my first date in a while.. So. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly.

“A while?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious dog. You’re struck by the fact that he is around 70 years younger than you. “Like, a few months?”

A beat.

Handsome Matthew is much busier than you are, it seems.

“More like a couple of years.” And by ‘a couple’ you mean eighty some odd years, but Matt doesn’t need to know all of that right now. But he just hums and nods, before answering,

“That’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” Your face flushes, and with a nervous laugh, you ask,

“You mean we’ll take it slow?”

“Sure. Whatever. We’ll figure out the details of it all later.” His hand finds yours, and before you can protest he pulls you into the ice cream shop. Handsome Matthew orders chocolate chip cookie dough because he is perfect in every way, and you order..

“Butter pecan, please.” You get odd glances from Matthew and the seventeen year old minimum wage worker behind the counter, but neither of them say anything. You manage to beat Matthew to paying for the ice cream, and as you walk, he asks,

“Butter pecan? Really?” And you roll your eyes. Young people today, always judging.

“You’re lucky they didn’t have butterscotch, that’s my real favorite.” You respond, before taking a lick of the ice cream. Your handsome date, gives you another bizarre look.

“Okay, what’s your third favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mm..” You take a few minutes to think about it, before deciding on your answer. “A tie between pistachio and coffee.” And at your answer, Matt laughs at you. You let out an offended gasp, although you’re not being serious, before asking, “what’s so horrible about that?”

“You have the ice cream preferences of an eighty year old,” He laughs and you laugh too, because oh, if only he knew.

“Sorry, my pallet is straight from the 40’s.” It’s a joke. That’s a joke. Not at all based in facts or actuality. You continue working through eating your ice cream and talking to your handsome date. “So, does the handsome lawyer have any family I should know about?”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grins, and your face flushes.

“Answer the question.”

“No siblings. My dad died when I was young and It’s only recently that I’ve been talking to my mother.” Interesting, you think, and then this dawning realization happens where you realize that the next thing out of his mouth will be the inevitable question, “How about your family?”

You consider lying but you decide against it. If this is going to lead anywhere good, you don’t want to base it off lies.

“Not much to say. I’m the sole survivor.” You shrug, keeping it vague. He frowns a bit before squeezing your hand.

“A couple of orphans, huh?”

You squeeze his back.

“Seems like it.”

You kind of aren’t over the death of your parents and your siblings and quite literally everyone you knew as a teenager and young adult—You’re not over so many fucking things that if you went through it all, you’d probably keep poor Handsome Matthew up all night.

But instead of talking about that, Matt finds himself walking with you to the bookstore. You hold the door open for him and begin to wander. You quickly move past the books on World War II, as if faced with an ex you want nothing to do with them.

You begin to look at the romance books, scrunching your nose at how cheesy and surface level so many of these young adult novels are. But then you remind yourself that you are a hundred years old. But you look like you’re in your late twenties, early thirties. As you’re looking at the books, Matthew makes his way to the aisle next to yours, and talks to you through the stacks.

“So, what’s your favorite book?”

“That’s like asking a mother her favorite child.” You answer quickly, and you hear him laugh. Your face flushes.

“Try for me.”

“Uh, I really love Great Gatsby. I’m kind of fascinated with the zombie genre, too, it’s sort of new and interesting, and uh, oh, I read this Neil Gaiman novel, uh, Stardust? I really liked that.” You confess. Matt listens as you fumble through novels, both of you making your way towards the end of the aisle.

“And movies?”

“Why is everything about me? I didn’t hear your favorite novel.”

“The Outsiders.” He responds, and you make a mental note to try and find it in the bookstore. “So, movies?”

You’ve had autonomy for around three years now, so.. Your movie knowledge has been kind of stunted, so you wrack your brain to try and come up with something impressive.

“I really like the Indiana Jones series, uh, oh, The Matrix, and..” You ponder your brain. “Oh! And King Kong!” You saw that one in the theatres for your thirteenth birthday.

“Like, the one that came out in 2017?” He asks, and again, you consider lying, because you actually have seen that one because when you looked up ‘King Kong’ it came out, and it really blew your mind how far CGI had come.

“No, the one that came out in ’33.” As if it is the most normal thing in the entire world.

“One of your favorite movies is one from 1933?” And the old woman in you wants to insist that you loved the decades you grew up in, and that seeing King Kong in the theatres was a marvelous thing because you could barely afford rent. And then you remember you shouldn’t reveal your history with the Great Depression to a man you’re on your first date with.

“Yup.” You assert, and ask, “You?”

“Star Wars, any of them, and the Princess Bride.” Again, you make a note to add it to your list.

“Interesting.” You hum, and you find The Outsiders, wanting to read it, to consume it, to consume him, and every thought he has. The two of you meet at the end of the aisle, too close to be platonic as his hands come to find your arms, and you shudder at the affection.

“Touch starved, huh?” He grins. You flush and roll your eyes.

“You’re so mean.” You huff, and he laughs. His hand moves up your arms and cups your jaw, enjoying the feeling of your warm cheeks.

“Well, you’re odd.”

“Odd?”

“Everything about you. Your movie tastes, your jokes, your ice cream flavors.” He hums, with a soft shrug. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just.. Trying to figure you out.”

“You’d be the first to accomplish such a feat.”

He laughs at that, and he’s so beautiful.. That you cannot help yourself when you lean up and gently press a soft kiss to those beautiful pretty pink lips that had caught your attention that morning. He kisses you back, without hesitation.

You feel at peace for the first time in years, as if everything you had gone through, every moment of torture and pain, has been worth it because it leads you to this. To Handsome Matthew, who kisses you so tenderly that no matter how simple it is, you are left breathless and desperate for more. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, pushing him back a bit, his back pressed against the stacks. The book in your hands is crumpled, and eventually, Matthew pulls away, before pushing you back a bit.

“Easy,” He says breathlessly, and you need the reminder, because you try to catch your breath. Holy shit. “Easy, easy..” he repeats, his hands rubbing up and down your arms a bit. “I’ve got you, just breath.” He laughs, and you lean your forehead against your shoulder. Fuck.

“When can I see you again?” Is your only thought, and he chuckles gently.

“Whenever you want.” He promises, and you nod, before leaning up to kiss him again.

One day you’ll tell him everything. You’ll tell him all of the horrible things you’ve done and have had done to you, and you’ll tell him why the nightmares came, and why they won’t ever go away. One day, you’ll tell handsome Matthew why you sleep with a gun under your pillow and why you have no family and why you are so odd.

For now, you decide that you deserve a few nice things.

And when he kisses back, you realize that maybe he is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Maybe. Maybe he is full of secrets and his own horrors that plague him while he sleeps, and maybe that’s the unspoken reason you are so deeply fascinated with one another.

Maybe.

Maybe you’ve spent the past ninety years going from fight to fight, to nightmare to nightmare. Maybe you’re owed some time in the sun with Handsome Matthew.

Maybe.

[moonstruckme]

idk if u listen to taylor swift but her song mastermind (which is kinda like maneuvering things around to get together with someone) would be so cool to read with TASM! Peter !! Maybe the reader realizes Peter is Spiderman after recognizing his voice and then tries her hardest to become Peter’s friend in school and kinda puts all the pieces together herself (+ the line ‘to assess the equation of you’ is so peter coded) also I feel like smart reader deserves more rep 😞 like no way she wouldn’t recognize his cocky ass voice

Again this is just like. Me spilling out my random thoughts 🤭 -🍁 (sorry for spam)

Hi lovely! I didn't stick to this very faithfully, but it did inspire an idea that I'd be remiss not to give you credit for! It's established relationship, where reader has figured out Peter is Spiderman (I agree she's not dumb and that needs to be regonized). Thank you <33

cw: a whiff of harassment (more of an attempt really, but if that will upset you please don't read)

tasm!Spiderman x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s hard to feel totally vulnerable walking around the city at night when you know you’re never really by yourself. Peter thinks he’s so stealthy, but he can’t always avoid casting shadows on the street ahead of you; you were bound to catch onto his well-intentioned stalking eventually. You’re not totally sure why he doesn’t just walk you home as himself (you’re coming from his apartment, it’s not like it would have been so difficult to ask), but your boyfriend seems to prefer stepping into his alter-ego when he thinks there’s any possibility for danger. 

It turns out this time, he was right.

It’s not that you don’t see the man walking in the opposite direction of you (you’d have to be blind to miss the slow, performative up-down he gives you) or notice his mouth moving in your periphery, but you’re city-trained; you keep your eyes ahead, hoping he’ll see that you’ve got your earbuds in and leave you alone when he doesn’t get the attention he wants. 

The man passes you, and you’re thinking you’re in the clear when there’s a forceful tug on your elbow. You very nearly pitch forward in your haste to get away from the unwelcome touch, but then the hand is wrenched away, and you turn to find the man stuck to a newspaper dispenser with one wrist covered in a familiar white filmy substance. A second later, and his other hand is webbed to the car behind him. 

You pull out your earbuds just as Spiderman lands in front of you, the tilt of his head indicating that he’s looking you over for damage. 

“Hey, what the fuck!” The man sputters. “I was just trying to pay the bitch a compliment—”

“Alright, thanks for that, pal.” Spiderman webs his mouth shut, and your harasser continues his muffled protests. “Maybe we just have different styles, but most of my compliments don’t start with unsolicited commentary on a stranger’s boobs.” 

You curl your lip, and the man looks like a dog on its leash the way he’s tugging against his restraints. Your rescuer webs his feet in place, stopping their scraping against the sidewalk.

“You know,” he says, turning to you, and he’s not even trying to disguise his voice, “you should really have at least one earbud out if you’re walking by yourself at night. That’s just the first entry in the Pretty Girl Guidebook.” 

You grin at him. “I think the first entry in the Pretty Girl Guidebook would really advocate more for playing damsel in distress to lure charming heroes your way. Walk me home, handsome?” 

You start back on your way, and he follows you like it’s all he knows how to do. He’s quiet, and though you can’t see his expression behind the mask, you wonder if you’ve actually startled Spiderman into silence. If he expects you to be bashful and awestruck, he’s got another thing coming; you’re typically a bit shy around new people, but Peter isn’t new people. 

“Yeah?” he asks after a second, and you wonder if you’d be able to detect the slight pitchiness to his voice if you didn’t know it so well. “So was that the plan all along? Get yourself attacked to get yourself rescued?” 

“No.” You shrug, casting a disdainful glance back toward the man who’d grabbed you. “I don’t go out looking for trouble, but I know that if it finds me,” you say, looking up into the mask with a simpering smile, “I’ve got Brooklyn’s friendly neighborhood hero to protect me.” 

You think he actually gulps. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, sweetheart, but you really should take some precautionary measures too.” 

“Well, I suppose I could’ve asked my boyfriend to walk home with me,” you muse, “but he seemed like he was eager to have me gone. Better things to do, apparently.”

“What?” It’s a squawk, and then Peter clears his throat from behind the mask. “I’m sure if your boyfriend’s a sensible guy—which, I mean, anyone who managed to snag a girl like you must not be totally airheaded—I’m sure he didn’t mean to rush you off.” 

“I don’t know.” You frown, looking off in front of you contemplatively. “He’s book smart for sure, but he can be kind of dense sometimes.” You can feel your companion’s hesitation like a prickle at your side, his uncertainty of how to go about this conversation with you, and it catches him offguard when you stop to look up at him with coy, wide eyes. “Do you think you’re a sensible guy?”

His voice is strangled. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you hum, slowly moving into his space. 

“I—I like to think so, sure.” 

It’s all you can do not to giggle at how easily his cocky persona has come undone. You’re having too much fun to even feel bad about the torment you’re inflicting upon your boyfriend. “Maybe I should be with you, then,” you say. 

He actually takes a step back. “But—but—uh, listen, you’re really pretty, but didn’t you say you had a boyfriend?” 

“Yeah,” you say softly, batting your eyelashes up at him, “what about him?”

You’ve got your hands on his shoulders, lips so close to his face you can feel the warmth of his breath through the mask, and you actually think he’s going to do it. He’s going to let you kiss him. You shove playfully at his chest, unable to contain your laughter anymore.

“Pete, c’mon,” you say, careful to keep your voice low. “You must think I’m an idiot. You really thought I wouldn’t recognize you?”  

There’s a few moments of wordless sputtering which you can’t really hold against him, and then Peter’s whisking you into an alley, pulling his mask off. 

“Sorry for fucking with you,” you say while he’s still getting his bearings. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide. “It was just so easy to flirt back. You made it too much fun for me.” 

“Jesus, babe.” Peter fists a hand in his hair, already fluffy from being handled so much. “When did you figure it out?” 

“I mean, before today, but not very long ago,” you admit. “I knew something was up for a lot longer, but I didn’t put it together until you helped me with that mugger a few weeks ago.” You quirk a playful eyebrow. “You should at least try to distort your voice if you’re going to be Spiderman around people who know you in real life, you know.” 

“Never had to with Flash,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

You turn a bit more sheepish, unsure if you should feel guiltier about keeping your realization from him. To be fair, though, he’d kept a whole crime-fighting secret identity from you. “Is there ever a right time?” you ask him with a little shrug. “I guess I eventually wanted you to tell me on your own. I get why you didn’t, but it’s not like you’re exactly choosing to trust me here.” 

“I do,” Peter says immediately. He takes your shoulder in hand, like he needs to keep you steady to make sure you’re hearing him. “I do trust you, honey. It was never about trust.” He passes a hand over his face, shock melding into something more like dread. “It just, it could be dangerous for you, if you’re ever seen with me and it's obvious you know who I am, or something. I didn’t want to drag you into anything. There are…not everyone thinks of me as the friendly neighborhood hero you do.” 

He gives you a little smile, and you return it, stroking his jaw in an attempt at comfort. “I know,” you say softly. 

“We’re going to have to be careful.” 

“I know. Pete?” 

“Yeah?”

“If we’re being careful, you should probably put your mask back on.” 

[littlemochabunni]

1-800-TROUBLE

Serial Killer!Suguru Geto x Bimbo!Fem reader

Content: MDNI, WIP, (lowkey... probably highkey..) bimbo reader, blood and homicide mention, fuckboys victims;

smut might include: daddy kink, breeding kink, degrading + praise, c-pies, possibly knife play idk yet.

WC: 644 so far

On your way home from a party you take a few wrong turns, and when you try to call your…. Overprotective boyfriend your phone dies before you get the chance to tell him the cross streets you’re at. With it being late on Halloween night, most of the house porch lights are off your feet continue to carry you down this foreign neighborhood until you hope to see someone could help you. Tear begin to sting your eyes with each street corner you turn, and the nip fall air strips you of any warmth from your cropped puffer jacket Suguru made you wear before you left. You definitely wish you listened when he warned you repeatedly to charge your phone too…

Police sirens are blaring in the far distance from where you originally started which means only one thing… “One of the officers can take me home!” Right…

Trying to follow the sounds to guide you out of the maze of houses you’re lost in. You find a group of men sitting in an open garage, drinking with the tv on in the background. **Although you know Suguru told you not to talk to strangers especially when they’re drunk, what other people were around that could possibly help you?**

“Excuse me? Hi, I’m like super lost…Can I borrow your phone or a charger please?” Every one of their eyes graze over your body before meeting your eyes, and of course the man that looks like the embodiment of a Chad speaks up first, “ooo a sweet bunny girl like you all alone? Need me to come warm you up?” You glance around the garage spotting the space heater near the couch he’s sitting on and a bright smile appears on your face. “It would be nice to get out of the cold while I charge my phone!” You happily skipping inside the garage to sit near the heater and immediately feel so much better now that your off your feet… Little did you know that with this little interaction…. you won’t be back on your feet anytime soon.

All eyes are on you and your like a innocent hare unaware of the foxes preying in the tall grass.

“So you gotta a name sweetheart?” Asked the store-brand version of Derek Shepherd. “Uhh I’m a bunny, duhh?” The men all blink at you before bursting out in a fit of laughter. You don’t understand how that was hilarious, but you’ll take it as a compliment. “Funny and cute… But seriously what’s your real name?”

Hearing that emergency number Suguru always tells you to remember if your lost coming from the braking news announcement about some house party incident. You focus on the tv and ignore ‘Chad’s’ questions, “Hey can you turn the tv up? I think I know that number.” The extra quiet man, who remains you of your friends creepy uncle Lester, turns up the tv and it retells the gruesome murders of the house party that just occurred half an hour ago….

“The next image we show may disturb some viewers…”

Grumbles and tsk scatter among the men around you as they get a glance at the gruesome writings on the wall. You squint your eyes as you notice a simpler stamp Suguru uses when he writes you love letters…. Your stomach drops at the thought of someone using that beautiful stamp for something so… horrifying.

“This message along with a description of the women and the phone number were left at the scene of the crime…” The woman proceeds to describe you from the hair on your head to the holographic boots you’re wearing. The men in the garage are too drunk to realize that you’re exactly what the killers wants, “Please if anyone has any information regarding this women… please call: 1 (800) 876-8253… That’s 1-800-……TROUBLE… Again that number is 1-800-876-8253…”

a/n:Might not be the entire planned posted I wanted but it’s some of it…. it still counts right?🥹

tags: @etherealxmaya @tojisbutterfly @fuyuaika @peachy-dove @hoshigray @bontensbabygirl @tophamhat-kyo @princess-of-fuckup @moonieper @dondake-senpai

[toxicanonymity]

The Barbecue. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 5 of 6)

5k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader, 18+ / pt 1 / master list

The long-awaited HOG (hot old guy) barbecue. Joel watches in the reflection of the window as you get out of the pool and grab a towel.  You follow him inside. "Don't tell me that made you jealous," you say. "Turned me on," he responds, and you can tell.

NEXT: part 6 / Story Master List

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ dry humping, vaginal fingering, jacking off, brief oral (M receiving), semi-public-ish, swallowing, alcohol, irresponsible cook-out behavior, DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, some angst, reader wears Joel's shirt, lack of PIV, blue balls. Do not read the dad as your actual dad!

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione. ty @dark-scape for the support as usual.

Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.

-

You don’t hear from Joel for days.  The first day, you’re a mess of feelings, pinballing between numb and smitten.  

You feel like you don't really know anyone in your life.  The people you thought were closest are perfect strangers.  You don't trust anyone.  Your roommate is spending all her time with that friend of Chad’s.  Your friend from home is on a trip overseas and won’t be back until the day after Independence Day.  You feel like you don’t have anyone to hang out with, talk to, or even sit in silence with.  You’re lonely and pensive.  

On the other end of the spectrum, your mind (and body) frequently drift to that long-awaited kiss, and everything that happened in that hotel suite.  You almost feel like if you can sleep with Joel, everything will be right in the world, even when it’s all wrong.  Even when he’s part of what’s wrong.  You know it’s illogical.  

-

One afternoon, for a change of scenery, you go to the bookstore with the cafe where you work.  Maybe you’re clinging to the last bit of familiarity that’s left.  On the bulletin board at the entrance, there’s a flyer for Chad's band playing at your favorite spot.  That must be why he originally came by the cafe the other day.  

While you’re in the middle of the bookstore, you get a text from Joel and your face burns when you open it. It’s a disappearing dick pic.  Not just his dick. It’s a blow job POV including his dick.  “Your souvenir,” he says, like that’s all that happened.    Your blood boils but also rushes to your loins.  

That’s all he has to say to you?  You respond, “really?” He’s trying to act like that whole car ride never happened.  

“Wanna talk about it?” he responds.  It’s nice that he offers, and your heart probably swells a little too much at the basic decency, but you’re actually not sure you want to talk about it.  You’re almost afraid to find out more.  You already wish you could rewind and live in blissful ignorance. 

-

After an exhausting day of stewing and sulking, you decide to go to Chad’s show.  It feels pathetic, but who cares? The way you see it, you don’t have anything to lose.  Chad can’t hurt you anymore.  It’s hard to imagine anyone who could.  You text Chad to let him know you’re coming.  He doesn’t text you back.  

When you get to the venue, you don’t see anyone you know, at first.  There’s still another band to play before them, so they should be hanging out near the merch table and you make your way over there.   Finally, you see their drummer behind the cash box, then you see Chad’s hair from the back.  The drummer says something to Chad, then Chad looks over at you.   Your stomach turns when you see his face.  You can only see half of it, but there’s a gauze bandage across his eyebrow and upper cheekbone.  His mouth is scabbed over.  Joel.  Chad makes himself scarce as soon as he sees you. 

You finally respond to Joel, “not really.” And that’s that.  But you don’t know how you’re going to face him or your dad when you go home for the holiday.  

-

On Independence Day, you’re so anxious that you drive right past the turn onto Joel’s street.  You don’t forget, you just decide not to turn.  You go to your friend’s house, even though you know she isn’t there.  It’s a familiar place to park your car and try to calm yourself down.  You sit there for almost an hour doing nothing but scrolling tumblr and listening to music.   

When you don’t arrive at the barbecue, your dad and Joel separately call you and you don’t answer either of them.  Based on your degree of dread with each respective call, you realize your dad is the one you least want to see.  You’re not really harboring much negativity toward Joel at this point.  

Frank texts you and you finally take a deep breath and decide to show up.  Your plan is to detach as much as possible and let yourself leave as soon as you’re uncomfortable. 

-

You pull up to Joel’s house wearing a bikini and the flannel with a change of clothes in your Billy Loomis tote.  Pretty much everyone is already at Joel’s house.  Tommy and Maria, Bill and Frank, your dad and stepmother, a couple of Joel’s neighbors, and two of your dad’s work friends, rounding out the requisite hot old guys (HOGs), according to your friend, at least. One of the HOGs, Steve, always looks at you like a piece of meat.  You used to think he was just an old  creep, but now he strikes you as a bit of a DILF. 

A light breeze carries the smell of propane and pork butt as you approach the pool gate.  Only Frank is in the pool.  You’ll probably hang out with him the whole time.  Joel is at the grill in swim trunks and t-shirt, talking to one of your father’s work friends.  He doesn't even look up when you open the gate.  His swim trunks sure do show a lot of thigh. 

Your stepmother is all over your dad.  You pry him off with a hug out of spite and to face your fears.  Then, you go to the grill and hug Joel from the side. It’s way too hot to stand there long.

“There she is,” Tommy announces on the other side of the grill.  He’s talking to a guy you don’t recognize who turns around and does a double-take.  

“This is Jesse, he works with your dad.” 

He extends his hand and says “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  

“Hmm, that sounds ominous." You can imagine being very attracted to Jesse even a week ago, but suddenly you don't have interest in anyone under 40.  

"Well I heard you like to swim, at least. I didn't wanna swim alone," Jesse says.

-

Frank has a tray at the side of the pool with a glass of wine and his phone on it.  He puts his glass of wine down when you walk up. 

"Thank God, I've been drinking by myself," he says. 

"And what kind of pairing is this for your pork butt?" you tease him as you sit down on the edge and put your feet in.   Bill just barely raises his glass to wave at you.  He's sitting alone under the shade of an umbrella, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. 

"Hey I think I have this shirt," Frank says, and takes the flannel between his thumb and finger.  He studies it contemplatively for a moment.  You catch up with Frank for a while.  

-

You call over to the grill, "Joel are you gonna swim?" 

"I'm on butt duty," he says. 

Frank gives you an inquisitive look then asks if you're gonna get in.  

You put your stuff down on a chair, take the shirt off, and start applying sunscreen.  Joel watches as you rub it into your bikini top. Then you turn around to give him a side view as you rub it into the part of your butt cheeks hanging out of the bottoms. 

Jesse moseys over within seconds and takes off his shirt. And well, damn.  When Jesse raises his eyebrows at you, you realize you've been staring while lazily reaching over your shoulder and applying sunscreen.  You were really just looking at his tattoos.  Mostly. 

“Nice ink,” you say.  

"Need a hand?" He asks. Why not? You hand Jesse the sunscreen and watch his face as he squirts some into his palm. He bites his lip. 

You turn around facing the pool – facing Joel – and stretch out one leg in front of you, keeping the other bent, while Jesse rubs lotion into your back.  He doesn’t do  it in an erotic way, but you curl your toes and subtly bite your lip as though it is. You let your legs fall open a bit. 

You lower yourself into the pool and have small talk with Jesse for a minute, then Joel says your real name for once and it makes your eyes go wide. He doesn't say it that loud but you still hear him from across the pool.  "Gimme a hand?" He asks. 

Jesse stays in the pool and awkwardly makes small talk with Frank. 

-

Joel watches in the reflection of his big living room windows as you lift yourself out of the pool and get a towel.  You follow him inside to the small, secondary kitchen and he closes the door behind you..

He pins you up against the counter, already aroused, and further hardens against your wet swimsuit, flooding you with desire from your core to your chest.  

"Havin' fun?" He growls in your ear. 

"Don't tell me that made you jealous."

"Turned me on," he says, low and horny. 

He kisses your chin, then your neck.  Your hands wrap around him and grab his ass, pulling him into you harder with your own soft grunt.  

He slips his hand under the damp cup of your bikini top, his fingers curving around the side of your breast, thumb resting at your cleavage.  His warm palm pushes your cold, hard nipple as he firmly cradles your breast, his hand applying slow pressure in rhythm with his hips.  Your knees are weak.  You're dripping, not just from the pool.  

He wraps his arms around you and slides his warm hands into the sides of your swimsuit bottom, grabbing hold of your cold ass cheeks. He groans, "God almighty.”  

He kneads your ass, pulling you into him and his rock-hard length.  He kisses your neck and grinds himself into you.  The feeling of his warm, thick rod slowly rutting against your clit drives you mad.  You couldn’t get any wetter.  If you don't have this man inside you soon, you might actually die. You reach into his shorts and use your other hand to try to take them down.  He doesn't stop you. 

But there’s a knock at the door.  Good Lord.  You know who it's going to be.

Joel puts his dick away and removes a big pan of coleslaw from the fridge.  He hands you the coleslaw while you open the door.  

"Am I interrupting anything?" She asks. 

"No," You say, then cock your head and add  "Am I?"  You hold eye contact for several seconds, then hand her the cole slaw and ask, "don't you and Dad have some catching up to do?" 

Your stepmother takes the coleslaw outside.  

You close the door behind her.  “Basement?,” you ask, and start toward the pantry at the back of the space.  There’s a hidden staircase that opens into the movie theater downstairs. 

Joel groans and rubs his beard.  “Later,” Joel says with a sigh.  “We better go back out.”

You scoff.  “Really?” 

“Go on back outside.” He opens the door to the main kitchen.  

-

When you get back to the pool, Jesse's already gone, talking to your dad.  When you get back in, Frank says, "You little minx."  He's got Instagram pulled up on his phone and shows you a picture from several years ago of Joel and him together,  both wearing the shirt you arrived in.  "Tell me everything."

Your face gets hot.  “Seems to be a popular shirt,” you say. 

"No," Frank says. "Shirt's just the kicker. There's something about the way you say each other's names. They sound like a secret."  Frank is good at reading people.

"What, you think I fucked him? I didn't." At least you don't have to lie about that. 

"Maybe not yet," he scoffs.  Frank looks behind you and covers his mouth, then says “Look at his shirt."  Yeah, Joel’s shirt has just the right wet spots.  In theory, they could've been from a hug. It basically was a hug.  

"Ever heard of a hug?" you say. 

Frank raises his eyebrows then holds up his glass of wine and "accidentally" clinks his wedding ring on it before downing the rest.  Bill hears it and comes over with the bottle.  Frank gives him a look with the slightest nod across the pool, like he can't even wait a couple hours to share his new gossip.  Bill's eyes dart over to Joel, then meet Frank's eyes again. As usual, no reaction is visible on Bill's face, aside from a twinkle in his eye.  "Everything to your liking, sir?" he asks Frank.  

Frank smiles, "Come on, at least dip your feet," but Bill leaves. Just as well, Frank's not done prodding you. 

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," Frank shrugs.  "But I know you want to. . . and my lips are sealed. . ."  

Frank is one of the most trustworthy people you know, so you don't worry about him spilling it.  You just don’t feel like saying it out loud and putting words to it.  Once it exists in the air, it’s something that can be broken. Something that can fall apart.  

You panic and tell Frank about Joel and your stepmother instead.  You claim you're just keeping Joel close for now while you decide what to do.  You leave out any details about what close means.  

The initial look on his face is horror, then Frank looks like he's going to cry.  "Are you okay?" 

"Chill," you say, looking around nervously. "Jesus, how much wine have you had?" 

"Sorry, I just.  I'm sorry.  I know it's hard.  That's all."  He hugs you, and over Frank’s shoulder, you see Joel looking across the pool with his brow furrowed even more than usual.

"Well, don't forget my dad cheated on my mom with her, so, whatever," you say.

"Well, exactly. That's why I worry-" 

Your face tells him to stop, so he changes the subject.  "So what about that guy from the band, is that still a thing?"

You sigh.  "Chad? No. Nothing juicy, just no."

"Got it," he says and you know you can trust him not to bring it up again.  He follows your eyes back to Joel.   You’re not off the hook, but at least you don’t have to talk about it.  

-

The actual meal is relatively uneventful. It’s hard to be around your father right now.  Deep down, you knew there were secrets.  You knew he wasn’t the most upstanding man.  You never fully trusted him after what he did to your mom.  But at this point, he feels like a stranger.  You’re almost glad his wife is cheating on him.  

Steve, the hotter of your dad’s non-Joel friends, tries hitting on you.  Asks if you like to party.  Says he bets you get pretty wild after a few drinks.  Pressures you to do shots with him.  Why not, you think.  You do one shot, but make Joel join in.  

“Bad fuckin’ influence over here,” Joel says and gives Steve a slap on the back.  Steve tries to egg you on to do more, but you don’t and neither does Joel.  

"That's why we call him Mr. One Shot," Jesse says. laughing at his own joke. 

Joel bristles at the nickname and crosses his arms, jamming his hands under his ungodly biceps.

Steve lowers his voice and asks Joel,  "How many shots in Uvalde?" Joel doesn’t answer. 

"One," Jesse says. "Miller’s too modest, you're embarrassing him," he laughs. 

Joel tenses. "Give it a rest, Jesse. Have some discretion." 

Jesse looks at your end of the table and swallows. “Right”

Your stepmother abruptly changes the subject.   She asks Jesse how old he is and why she hasn’t seen him before. She’s drunk, and every time she looks at Jesse, she looks like she could eat him alive. 

Your dad elbows Jesse.  “I think my wife likes you,” he says with a wink.  It’s awkward. 

-

Joel’s face is a little pink from the sun, and it looks good on him.  He’s looking at your face, but not making eye contact. He seems to be in a trance.  You kind of feel like you should still be mad at him, but for some reason, you’re not.  And you’re not going to deprive yourself out of spite.  You can feel Frank noticing every detail of this.  

Bill pours the last of a bottle of wine, and you volunteer to go to the wine cellar.  Bill says they’ve had enough.  Frank protests that he wants one more glass.  He asks you for a German Riesling, with a wink.  You subtly shake your head at him, falsely denying what he knows you’re up to.  

-

You stand in the wine cellar, enjoying the cool air, then sit on a cabinet that spans the whole back wall.  It’s only a few minutes before you hear Joel’s flip flops echoing down the stairs, presumably with the pretext of helping you find the wine.  He crosses the cellar without even glancing at the wine.  “Leavin’ for the fireworks in 15,” he says.  

He has that horny look in his eyes and there’s already a bulge in his swim trunks. The way his t-shirt stretches over his pecs and arms — God damn. 

When Joel reaches you, his massive hands part your knees, then lightly stroke your bare thighs.  His lips brush your temple as he says, “You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days.” 

“That’s the idea,” you say as his hands wrap around your back and he slides you closer to the edge of the cabinet.  When your crotch comes to rest against his, an acute desire floods your breasts.  You squeeze his sides with your thighs, then roll your hips into his arousal and hook your hands under his arms, bringing him closer.  

You slide your hands down his back and into his swim trunks, feeling his ass and bringing the trunks down.  At the same time, you pull his hips into you and the swell of his hard-on against your clit makes you throb with need.  You start to untie your bikini bottoms while he gropes a breast.

His mouth latches onto your neck. You let the front of the bottoms fall between your thighs, and tilt your hips in just the right way. He brings a hand between your legs and drags his flattened fingers up and down your slippery seam, then thrusts two of them inside and you moan. 

“Fuuck,” he breathes.  

You grab his cock.  “Come on,” you beg as you tug him.  He takes his hard length from you, holds it in his hand, and furrows his brow as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you.  You try to read his face.  He breathes heavily as he fingers you.   

“Fuck me already,” you beg.  

He looks down at himself and shakes his head no, but looks pained by his own answer.  

“We both know it’s gonna happen,” you say.

He takes a deep breath as though to restrain himself.  “Maybe so, but not tonight.” 

He removes his fingers and brings the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance.  A bolt of need shoots through you.  He dwells there for a moment, takes another deep breath, then lays his stiff manhood vertically against your seam and pulls you tight against him.  Then he grinds wetly against your aching clit, and your hips roll into him.  Your head falls back and you moan.  Your eyes are watery.  

“God, Joel. . .this is . . .so dumb. . . just fu-” 

You cut yourself off with a moan as he quickens his pace and grunts.

“Pleeease.” 

“Shhhhhhh,” he says.  You’re on the verge of coming and on the verge of tears. He holds you tight for leverage then goes jackhammer pace. 

“Joel. . .”

“Come for me, sugar,” he pants.  And not long after, you do.  You clench around nothing, pulse against him, and you hear the echo of a breathy “Joel” you didn’t know you said.  

He takes his cock in his hand again and looks at you with his pupils blown wide. His breath is ragged as he strokes himself.  You find yourself slipping down off the cabinet.  He doesn’t deserve what you’re about to do, you just want it for yourself, for whatever reason.  He steps back and you squat down to face level with his cock.  You hover your mouth over it, then wrap your lips around the head, and he comes with an echoing groan before you take any of the shaft into your mouth.  His cum even tastes unattainable.  Your eyes sting. 

You fix your swimsuit and compose yourself.  

“C’mere,” he says and hugs you.  You don't really hug him back.  You wipe a tear off your cheek.  He tries to kiss you, but you’re too upset, and it would make you need him even worse than you already do.  

-

Joel’s phone rings and he picks it up.  “We’re comin’,” he says.  “C’mon, let’s go.”  He puts his arm around you but your demeanor doesn’t soften.  You’ve had it with him depriving you.

“Ya know, maybe it’s a good night to talk to my dad,” you threaten as you near the top of the stairs.  

“Damn, Trouble.” You can't tell if he’s impressed or judging you.  “I said not tonight. I didn’t say never.”  

That makes you think twice, at which point you realize what you just did. . .You tried to blackmail Joel for sex. 

He adjusts his shorts.  God, what’s become of this situation in just a few days - you try to put it out of your mind.  You can beat yourself up over it later. 

Joel stops you with his hand on yours before you open the door. “Look,” he continues.  “Before you do anything stupid, there’s somethin’ I should tell you later.”  

You lean against the wall and cross your arms.  “Lemme guess, you and Dad are up to some shady, dangerous shit.” 

“Nothin’ to do with that,” Joel says, lowering his voice. 

“So you are.” 

“Dangerous, yes, shady, no. We’re the good guys. Less you know ‘bout that, the better.” 

“Why?”

“For your safety.” 

You open the door to the living room and people are milling around deciding who’s riding with whom to the fireworks.  Frank says, “hey, she didn’t get bricked in,” and hands you your bag from outside so you can change.  

-

You and Joel ride with Bill and Frank to the fireworks. Frank keeps looking back and making small talk, but you and Joel mostly look out your opposite windows. You get to thinking about what Joel said.   Not tonight. . . I didn’t say never. . . If he means that, maybe it’s worth the wait.  Maybe you should hear him out, whatever he has to tell you.

During the fireworks, you come around a little.  Joel playfully covers your ears, knowing you’ve always hated loud noises.   When Bill and Frank drop you off at Joel’s afterwards, everyone is going their separate ways.  You're relieved to see your dad and stepmother drive off before you have to say goodbye.   

You start to go to your car, wanting to quit while you're ahead and not end up begging for it again. Joel stops you with gentle hands on your shoulders.

"Come in for a minute. Let's talk." A pit opens in your stomach. 

The two of you go in through the pool gate.  “Lemme make you a drink,” he says.  That sounds even worse.

. . .

Joel hands you your favorite cocktail, then comes around the bar with his own drink to sit on the stool next to you.  He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on your knee.  He seems almost as nervous as you are. You can't remember seeing him nervous before.  

“Yeah?” you prompt him.  

He nods and takes a sip of his drink, then looks you in the eye.  He puts his glass down, then takes yours out of your hand and puts it down on the counter too.  

He swivels you toward each other.  He looks like he's about to say something, then something changes in his eyes.  He cradles your head with both hands, lays his lips into yours, and kisses you slow and hard, his tongue dipping into your mouth. 

After a few seconds, you don’t even notice the taste of his whiskey, and his hands trace your body on their way down to your thighs.  It’s intense but tender.  You can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of a kiss goodbye.  It scares you.  He slides off the stool and gets in between your knees, tries to put your legs around him again, and that’s certainly where your legs want to go.  But you want to hear what he has to say first. 

You pull away and your hand drifts up to your lips.  They buzz from his fervor.  Your chest rises and falls.

“Spit it out,” you tell him.   

“Right," he says.  "I dunno if you’re still gonna wanna. . .”  He downs his drink.  It’s hard for you to imagine anything that would make you not want to fuck him anymore.  

Finally, he begins.  "Alright. . . ‘member what I said at lunch the other day, 'bout how monogamy isn’t for everyone?"

"Yeah." If this is all to say it’s not for him, it’s not hitting like much of a bombshell.  Now, if he's going to tell you about other people he's fucking–when he's not even fucking you—that's a different story. 

"Well," he clears his throat and looks away.  "Your dad-"  

You interrupt him with a loud sigh.  "Just because he cheats doesn't mean you can sleep with his wife."  You’re annoyed he’s even going there.  

Joel holds up his hands as though to tell you to slow down.  "Lemme finish.  'member what I said, how even in a marriage, some couples. . . ."  He tries to make you fill in the blanks for yourself, but you won't. "Okay,”  he shifts in his seat and begins to gesticulate vaguely.  “Your dad and stepmother, they have an arrangement."  

You feel the blood drain from your face.  You think about the way she was eyeing Jesse. "Gross," you say.

He swallows and nods regretfully as you process this.  He waits patiently as your heart races along with your thoughts, then you spill them out all at once.  "I dunno why I would believe you. OR why you would believe her.  Is that what she told you?”  You laugh.  “Whatever. Even if it's true, you aren't just any guy-"

"He knows," Joel says almost somberly. “About me.”

"Oh, he knows?" you laugh. He couldn't possibly. This is a terrible attempt at defusing the whole situation for himself.  And yet, he looks like he feels bad for you. 

"The first time, he talked me into it." 

Deep breaths.  "That's insane.  That's. . .this is your new plan? Try to convince me my dad is some perverted cuckold?"

"No, not like that." He shivers in disgust. "Damn, Trouble. That's where your head went? No. . . when he. . .it was like. . . a swap.” 

Your stomach turns.  

“Okay, remember my date to Bill and Frank's wedding?  The stripper?”  Your heart sinks.  “Your dad, um, really liked her, and-"

"I get the picture," you say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, recalling that your dad did in fact really like Joel's date.  It was embarrassing.  

"It was casual with me and. Shit, what was her name. Anyway, we were all stayin' in that hotel gettin' sloshed at the pool, an-"

You open your eyes and say, "Yeah, I got it, okay?" Then, you walk over to the sofa to sit down.  He follows you.  You feel sick to your stomach and don't want to hear another word about it.  You cross your arms and slouch, sitting in silence for a moment.  

He hesitantly puts his hand on your knee, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You don’t know what to feel.

"Did you really end it with her?" You ask. 

He sighs.  "More or less." 

Now rage starts simmering in your chest. 

"Told her I wanted a break.”

Unbelievable.

“That just — it lessens the blow.  But trust me, I'm not doin' it again. Especially after how she’s been actin’." 

You wish you could believe him. 

You ask, "Why'd you let me think it was some huge secret?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"I don’t think your dad would appreciate you knowin’ about it," he says.  "But I was gonna tell you anyway."

“Yeah, right.” 

“‘Yeah. . . ‘member all those calls you ignored?”  

“But then I got to thinkin’ about it, and I guess. . . .” 

"What?”

"I," he pauses and sighs.  "Shit, I dunno, it was hot.  Really hot.  The way you acted, thinkin' you had somethin' over me. . .never saw that side of you before."

Now this you can believe.

"Next day, still thought about tellin’ ya.  But after the pool, there was no goin’ back.  I mean, damn."  

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he reflects on that.  He adjusts himself, which always makes you tingle, even now.  Especially now?  God, you have no idea.  

"Guess it kinda did somethin' to me,” he says.  He raises his eyebrows and gives your thigh a rub, but you flinch.  It isn’t personal, you’re just on edge, but his eyes get sad and he takes his hand away, resting it in his lap as he sits back lazily on the couch. 

You ask, "So why tell me now?"

"I dunno, maybe I'm growin' a conscience."  

You try to make sense of that, but you can’t.  Why would he feel guilty about you doing something as depraved as blackmailing him into sex?  

"Woulda been hot as hell though.  Maybe I shoulda let ya go through with it.  Damn.” 

It sounds like everything is up to him, and apparently, it is.  

He hesitantly rests his hand on your back and slowly rubs it.  You take a deep breath and sigh audibly.  You’re melting under his fingertips.  

He lowers his voice, “So, now that you know everything . . .”

His phone buzzes.  When he looks at it, he tenses and sharply inhales.

“Your dad’s here,” he says.

And your car is still parked outside in the turnaround.

-

Planning for the next chapter to be the last in this story. . .

[c0ld0utside]

Yoo I love all of your storys!!!!!!!! There are never enough platonic yanderes so thank you :)))

um anyways can I have this Idea for a super scary dark wed guy that is really really feared but is like a total softy with is kid like one moment he about to kill someone for idk saying a mean thing abt his child and when reader walks in he’s like yeah we were about to play hide and seek why don’t you go hide :)

I’m so sorry if this is confusing I never really ask anything and I’m kinda scared lol you obviously don’t have to write anything and please take care of yourself! <3

SORRY FOR GRAMMAR AND SPELLING MISTAKES

Assuming “wed” is “Web”

Dark Web Dad. Let’s go. 

This one is short and light, reader is ~8 years old

Warnings: Shouting, mention of dismemberment at the end

Your dad has a lot of weird rules involving the basement. 

Never go into the basement.

Don’t bother him while he’s in the basement.

If you hear something moving around in the basement, let him know.

If someone (who isn’t him) comes out of the basement, don’t let them see you. 

Add-on to rule number four: If you can tell him that someone came out of the basement, do so.

Those were the “big” rules involving the basement. Four had to be edited because when you were a tot, you kept running away from your dad when he came out of the basement. He still laughs about it to this day. 

You wonder if your dad will laugh about this, too. You hope he will because you’ve seen him angry, and it always left you shaking and crying in your room. He always apologized about it afterward because it, “wasn’t your fault, love.” He didn’t mean to get so loud and scary. Your dad makes it up to you in any way that he can: Ice cream, dress-up, movie nights, story time…

Would this count as your fault?

It’s the middle of the night and you couldn’t sleep, so you mustered up your courage and raced down the hallway. Unfortunately, your dad wasn’t in his room. Or home, judging by the missing keys that he usually keeps on his bedside table. So you left his room to run back to yours-

Only to hear a door open. Followed by footsteps. 

“Dad?” Maybe he was working late in the basement. You hurried downstairs, expecting to see your dad. Instead, you see a complete stranger in front of the basement. Not your dad. Well, you didn’t exactly break rule number five since he isn’t here, but you did break rule number four. 

When you’re suddenly grabbed by the stranger, you scream. “Shhhhh- shhh, he’ll hear us.” The stranger hisses, dragging you into your dad’s room. They usher you into the walk-in closet and hide you in the corner. 

“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. We don’t want him to find us,” They say, hiding in the opposite corner behind the clothes on the hangers. Oh, you think. We’re playing hide and seek! You love this game, your dad always has a hard time finding you. 

Your thoughts are cut off when you hear the front door unlock and open. Your dad’s home, sighing and moving around downstairs. He pauses for a second, and then he’s moving around the house quickly. He calls out for you, sounding panicked. “Honey? Honey, where are you?” 

You can’t answer. You’d lose the game? You gasp when you hear your dad curse, and the stranger shushes you promptly. They pause. “Wait, are you-” 

The door slams open and your dad flicks on the light, spotting you. Ignoring the knife in his hand, you get up and run over to him, giggling. He pulls you into his arms, dropping the weapon and letting out a relieved sigh. ”There you are…did Daddy’s…friend see you?” When you nod, his grip tightens. 

“Well, honey, since we’re playing with more than two people, you’re a seeker too since I found you. Do you know where they are?” 

You point to the other corner and your dad lets out an observant hum. “I’m so sorry honey, my friend and I were playing downstairs and they broke something, so I had to go to the store.” He says, thrusting his hand into the stranger’s hiding spot and dragging them out. They start to kick and scream and cry for help, startling you. 

“Whoops- forgot to mention they’re a sore loser. Go back to bed, honey. Daddy will be there in a moment. He just needs to send his friend home.”

He doesn’t mention that his friend has multiple homes, or that they’ll be going in pieces. 

[katiemay-025]

hey idk if you have ur requests open or not cause i couldn’t find anything that says that they’re not (or im just blind)

but if they are open can you please do a johanna mason x reader to the song stranger by olivia rodrigo specifically the part “your just a stranger i know everything about” like maybe instead of finnick dying it could’ve been reader or smtg like just an idea

no pressure at all if you don’t wanna write it it’s fine dw

I’m open to requests as of yet anon but I’ve got work so might take a while or I could have a random burst of inspiration.

~~~

Stranger

~~~

summary: Johanna arrives in Capitol after the war and finds out some horrible news.

wc: 3.2k

warnings: mdni, angst, use of y/n, character death, grief, not proofread.

~~~~~

Watching from the sidelines was agony. If it were for that stupid Block Test, Johanna would be storming The Capitol with you, with Finnick, with the damn Mockingjay herself. Yet, here she was in the hospital staring at the white tiled walls. She didn’t know if you were okay or not and it drove her up the wall.

Communication between the group could not be achieved without interference from the Capitol. The ‘fallen tribute’ propo was played and it nearly caused Johanna to faint. The District 7 girl marched down to Beetee and demanded to know the truth. He had shown her the hacked camera system in the Capitol where everyone in the team had gone underground except for the guy that Peeta pushed into the tar.

She replayed the seconds of you walking by the camera near the middle of the group. You had held your weapon in your right hand and your left hand fiddled with the blue hospital bracelet that Johanna had given you.

You were still alive but heading deeper into the heart of Panem. It wasn’t going to be easy for you and the team. Johanna believed in you, after all, you were nicknamed the Career Grim Reaper as you ended the 6 year career streak between Enobaria and Augustus Braun. In your Hunger Games, you won with a scythe, chopping people’s bodies and head clean in half. With the added bonus of your taller than average height of 5’9” for a woman you could reach enemies from further. As for close range combat, beetee made sure you were able to retract the staff and have your scythe double as a sickle.

A few days later was when Snow lost all his supporters by bombing his own citizens. Johanna could care less, about them. They all deserved to burn in her eyes. He was captured by the rebels and Coin wanted all the victors to watch his executions. Alas, that event would come later as members of squad 451 were injured.

She was flown to the Capitol in a helicarrier with Beetee, Haymitch and Annie. Johanna nearly threw Annie out of it for annoying her. Annie’s nervous habit of biting her nails earned glares from the district 7 victor. Coin and her sources never told them who was injured.

When the helicarrier landed, the victors were escorted through the mansion. It was like the opposite of the rescue mission where she and Annie were in the hospital beds and Finnick and you were the ones running to them.

Annie started running first, desperate to see if her husband was okay. It made Johanna run behind her to try and find you. Annie barged through the door finding Finnick with a cast on his left arm and torso. “Finnick!”

“Annie!” He held her with the same intensity he did in District 13, the same passion on their wedding day. The kissed without a care in the world as Johanna searched the room.

Her heart rate picked up the longer she spent without you. “Where’s Y/n?”

Finnick turned over and gave her a solemn look with tear stains on his cheek. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“What are you talking about. Where is Y/n?”

Annie had pulled away slightly curious as to his answer of where you were. In Finnick’s mind, he was reliving the moment after the Quell, when you woke up on the helicarrier and asked where Johanna was. It broke his heart because in both cases, he would have to deliver a painful blow. “She’s- she’s dead. Y/n’s dead.”

Annie gasped throwing her hand over her mouth. The room ran cold and Johanna scoffed. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s sick.”

“You know this is something I would never joke about.” Finnick replies and Annie begins to cry.

Johanna shakes her head. “No I don’t believe you. Just bring me to her. I want to see her.”

“There is no body Johanna. She was blown up.”

“She can’t have just left nothing!” Johanna yelled, tears threatening to fall down her face. “What about her weapon, a scorched piece of clothes. The hospital bracelet I gave her as a token. Something.”

Finnick’s face twisted in pain remembering your last moments. “Nothing.” He said with his shaky voice. Unlike Johanna, he let the tears start rolling down his cheek. Annie reaches over and wipes his tears.

Johanna glared at the lovers tender moments. Oh how she wanted that more than anything right now. After all you and her have been through, that much was owed to her. She pushes her feelings down with a deep breath. “Tell me- tell me what happened. Please.”

Finnick closed his eyes and winced. Johanna saw him thumb the small robe he had with him. “We escaped underground to rest for a bit. We woke to lizard mutts tracking Katniss’ scent but it didn’t matter, they ripped through anything that moved.

“We lost most of the district 13 soldiers before we decided to get out of the sewers. They had us at a choke point, we were surrounded and we had to go up an old rusty ladder.

“We were one of the last ones to go up. When I climbed. The mutts pulled me down by my shoulder and parts of the ladder with me. I heard the crack in my arm and I thought I was dead. Y/n saved my life, she killed the mutts around me with her scythe, threw me over her shoulder and ran. The camera crew shot at the mutts behind us but they kept coming.

“Y/n got us to another ladder and pushed me up. Pollux and Gale were there to pull me out of the sewers.”Finnick paused as he began to cry again. “I thought- I thought she was right behind me but all I heard was her screaming. She was nowhere in sight. The mutts had gotten to her and they were ripping her apart. Katniss blew them up and put Y/n out of her misery.”

Finnick barely finished retelling your last moments before Johanna stormed out of the infirmary. Her feet brought her to a room of glass vases and ceramic podiums. They must’ve had some significance to Snow but she didn’t care. Her breath quickened. She swiped at the glass and watched them shatter on the ground. She shoved the podiums over and let them crack.

Johanna rampaged through the room throwing and kicking anything that could break. The glass, the clay. She hated it all. You were dead only several hours before the war ended. It wasn’t fair, of all people, you didn’t deserve to die. You were good. Johanna fell to her knees, not caring about the broken glass cutting up her legs. She clumped a bunch in her hands and watched as the red liquid cascaded down to the floor. The red contrasting against the white marble floor as pure as snow.

Snow. Everything went back to him. Her pain, her losses: Her family, you. You. Your suffering. Your agony. Your death. It was all his fault. Johanna grunted in anger before turning from the room. She didn’t care if Katniss wanted to be the one to kill snow, Johanna had every right to kill him.

Before she could though, one of the training doctors saw her bloody hand and Johanna was taken to the infirmary. They were gentle with her and she hated it. Memories of defying the District 13 doctors swirled in her mind. She had refused to allow treatment in fear of it being a facade. She was afraid to be hurt again and you stayed by her side glaring at the Doctors who would cause Johanna to even wince.

The cut on her hand didn’t hurt despite the amount of blood coming through. The pain came from her chest. How it beat against her rib cage like it was trapped and trying to squeeze through the ridges and jump out of her body. Johanna even felt her heart beat in her throat and it made her nauseous. Her breath quickened as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

She stepped away quickly from the doctors, not caring if they hadn’t finished patching her up. Something overcame her, despite her hate for the Hunger Games, she went to the library where all the games were stored in the archive. Johanna cradled your taped game in her bloody hand.

There was a small lounge area with a television and the District 7 victor sat firmly in it watching your game. You were 16 at the time and besides the baby fat you almost looked the same now. The same muscular features highlighted your tall stature. She spent 3 hours watching you and your games and when it was done, she rewinded all the way to the beginning to watch it again.

Another reason for your nickname being the Career Grim Reaper was that you killed them all. You managed to join the careers and at night during your watch, The other district 9 tribute emerged from the bushes and together you slit their throats. The other two barely had time to react to the cannons before you sliced their heads off.

Your partner tried to get the upper hand on you when you shook hands but you quickly held him in a choke hold yelling at him to stop. He kept thrashing and managed to stab you in the arm. With great reluctance in your face and a quick apology, you snapped his neck.

The 68th Hunger Games was replayed a few times before someone came looking for Johanna. Being the stubborn and cranky woman she was, she stayed in the single seat, ignoring her stomach’s call for food just to see you. She could feel your spirit and your strength as if you were sitting next to her. It felt comforting.

The house maid brought her food at Finnick’s request and Johanna proceeded to ‘rot’ in front of the televisions. She only got up to use the restroom for the next week. Then a district 13 soldier came to ask her to a meeting. She didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding you tape again so she pocketed it.

She was greeted by some of the other victors, Finnick, Annie, Beetee, Peeta, Haymitch and surprisingly Enobaria. Katniss walked in and Johanna glared daggers at the mockingjay. That brainless girl was the reason you’re dead, but the death of her sister enough pain for her. She’d know the meaning of loss for the rest of her life.

President Coin gathered the remaining victors and with a short protest, Johanna found that Enobaria, along with herself, Peeta, and Annie, they were granted immunity. Shes still trying to to kill Enobaria, she was probably lying comfortably in her bed while everyone else fought for their freedom. She proposed a vote for a symbolic hunger games.

This was unfair. You were a victor you should’ve been there at the vote. It was your right. It was upsetting how you were hours away from a stop at this table. Regardless, in her anger and revenge she votes yes in hopes that Snow’s granddaughter gets reaped and he has to watch her die.

After the vote, came the execution. Everyone far and wide came to witness the death of a tyrannical dictator. Imagine being hated so much that everyone comes to witness your execution. Katniss broke her promise again! Instead of killing Snow, she killed Coin. Across the way, she could hear Snow’s maniacal laughter. Johanna clenched her fists and she felt the glass piece from last week cut her hand. The girl quickly pulled it out and flung at Snow’s head.

She watched a brilliant spray of blood and his laughter cease. People shoved her aside as they stormed to get their hands on President Snow. If he wasn’t dead from the glass in his face, he’d be dead from the crowd. Either way, he wouldn’t get the last laugh.

One of the guards, yanked her from the crowd and pulled her to safety. Yeah, protect the victor. Where was this level of security for you? They sent the victors back to their districts and before she got on hers, Finnick and Annie approached her.

“We know how much you love the forest, so when you need a break with watching that tape, eat something okay. We’re going to figure things out on our end so we can go to District 7 with you.”

“I’m not a child Finnick, I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t fight us on this. If I come over and smell the stench of rotting flesh I will bring you back from hell to kill you myself.” Finnick stepped closer to threaten her.

“Really? Threatening a victor?”

“Yes, how low of me. I’m not threatening a victor, I’m threatening my best friend.”

Johanna snapped her head at him as he used those words. If looks could kill, Finnick would’ve been in hell. “Don’t call me that! We both know Y/n was your best friend and I swear if you erase her…”

“She saved my life. I’m not erasing her. It’s just that she’s de- I can have two best friends.”

“No you can’t.”

“Okay fine. I’m threatening my best friend’s lover. I owe her that much, to take care of you.”

On the train ride home, she watched your game again. Feeling prouder and prouder of what you had done. Watching you at that young age, you were like a stranger to her. A stranger she knew everything about.

She knew your hobby which was beer crafting. She knew your family consisting of just your grandfather who passed away at the old age of 83 a few months after the 73rd Hunger Games. She knew how the rest of them died, your mom dying in childbirth and your father dying a couple months after from heartbreak. She knew about your spunk, any thought you said, you said without muttering. She knew about your habit, like how you’d pick at the skin around your finger nails or the way your eye twitches when someone chews with their mouth open. She knew of your fears, like your fear of the dark and being alone with no one to love you. She knew your favorite food, her own Marionberry pie with a bit of ice cream on the top. She knew the way you’d pick up the telephone by saying hello twice in quick succession. She even knew your fighting style and that you preferred close quarter combat.

After finding out about your passing she had yet to cry. Annie had cried, Finnick cried, Katniss almost cried. Hell even Enobaria cried. Her voice had broke on the phone a few months after returning home and she cried to Johanna. She just pulled the phone away from her ear and brought it back when she thought Enobaria was done. Alas, she was still in tears. Johanna managed a ‘there there’ and called it a day.

It wasn’t because she didn’t miss you she missed you everyday. She just couldn’t cry even if she wanted to. It’s as if she’s wasted all her tears before ever truly knowing you. She watched your games less and less throughout the years, and the Odair’s even named their daughter after you.

There were days where she couldn’t get up because of the heartache and then days like today she hadn’t thought of you so far. Finnick and Annie had their kids over for her birthday tomorrow and Johanna played with them as they splashed through the splash pad. Annie slowly got Johanna to be comfortable with the water.

She was turning 24 tomorrow and it dawned on Johanna that you never got to be 24, dying a few months short. You would never get the chance to be 24, 25, 26 and so on. She didn’t know what overcame her, before she knew it her tears fell out of her eyes torrentially.

Wiping at her tears, Johanna grew crazy when they wouldn’t stop. The time for crying was long over. It’s been over for 3 years. She was okay now, Johanna was sure of it. The weight of grief had lifted off her chest already, but now she felt it all. You were forever going to be 23 and she was going to be older than you now. The last time she saw you in person was when you told her you’d ‘see her soon’. She never got to see you again and anytime she conjured up an image of you, it was the 16 year old stranger. It was unfair.

She bit her lip to stop herself but the moment your namesake saw the glistening skin under her eye, her small hands shook the victor’s shoulder asking, “Aunty Jo? Are you okay?”

“Y/n I’m okay.” She looked into the child’s eye and burst into tears. Johanna pulls Finnick and Annie’s second child in for a hug and bawls repeating your name. The parents snapped into action when they heard the crying only to find Johanna in tears.

It was Annie that arrived first. Her daughter stood there confused and wouldn’t move when Annie tried to pull her away. Your namesake wrapped her arms around Johanna to let her cry. Finnick arrived shortly after seeing Annie pat her on the back. He mouthed ‘what happened’ to his wife but she only shrugged.

The couple were at a loss for words, but luckily, as parents, they knew what to do. They tried to pry Johanna from their daughter but she held on. It wasn’t until later at dinner when Johanna spoke up.

“I don’t want to celebrate my birthday.”

Finnick and Annie darted their eyes between each other and their honorary oldest child. “Why not?” Johanna mumbled her answer. “What was that?”

“I said I don’t want to be older than Y/n! I don’t want to be 24 when she’s stuck at 23! She had so much ahead of her. I’m forgetting what she looks like, what she sounds like. I miss her laugh. At this point she might as well be a stranger. I had no right to cry.”

“Everyone has a right to cry Johanna, we do it. Tears don’t make you weak and you can designate time to cry but it doesn’t mean grieving is over. It comes and goes. We tell our kids about Y/n, they remember her through stories. They practically know everything about her at least from what we knew of her. We keep her alive that way.” Annie tells as Johanna pouts.

“It’s unfair.” Johanna says.

“Auntie Jo.” Your namesake called. “Mommy and daddy say we live for the people who cannot.” Johanna smiles hearing your words echo throughout the Odair family.

“Yeah even if we never met old Y/n, it’s like we still know her!” Their son joined in.

That was who you are now, a stranger the people around you know everything about and although it has its sad moments you live on through memory.

[tamlinrose]

NuWho Characters as The Entities (TMA)

9th Doctor- The Desolation.

He is fresh off the time war, where millions were sacrificed in flame. He is the main cause of death of his entire people and rose like a phoenix from the ashes. DEFINITELY the desolation

Rose- The Eye.

Come on, she becomes an all knowing goddess of Time. How could Bad Wolf NOT be the Eye??

Captain Jack Harkness- The End.

He literally dies over and over and over. Even though he can’t permanently die, I’d say he’s feeding The End some good cosmic horror

The Tenth Doctor- The Lonely.

Pretty self explanatory. He desires companionship so much, but everyone leaves him, whether by choice or force. In the end, he is all alone. And regenerates knowing that for all the connections he made, none could stay. Sad wet boy

Martha- The Hunt.

I debated this one, but I think especially her traveling across the world with the sheer determination to defeat the Master shows her becoming the predator instead of the prey. She also becomes a unit soldier, and her arc is her adopting the soldier mentality the doctor so hates about himself onto herself out of survival.

Donna- The Spiral.

Her whole arc is around not being able to trust herself, her own mind because she’s been told she isn’t clever or worthwhile so many times. Not to mention Fear Her, where everything about the World is Not Right and she’s at the center of the wrongness vortex.

Sarah Jane- The Web.

She’s a journalist, she’s constantly picking at threads, finding out information she shouldn’t have, weaving it to her will. I also think that the doctor dropping her off and ditching her without her consent is playing into the fear of having your life puppeted by forces outside of your control.

11th Doctor- The Stranger.

Idk something about him… his penchant for theatrics, his burning desire to be human but always being just slightly left of human behavior, mannerisms. It’s like he’s mimicking the humanity he wants so bad, but it just gives him the uncanny valley affect that makes him even more alien than ever.

River- also the Web

She is scared of being controlled by forces beyond her. She was brainwashed into wanting to kill the doctor and ultimately it is not her will that pushes her to do so. She lives to be free of influence but she is controlled by the outside forces of the time stream discrepancies that keep her and the doctor apart.

Amy- The Flesh.

Okay this is for silly goofy reasons, but the fact she was LITERALLY a flesh avatar for like a full season really sells it for me. Not to mention a lot of her arc is very centered on body horror (pregnancy without her knowledge, giving birth, not being able to have kids, etc).

Rory: Also an avatar of The End.

He just dies so many times man, him and captain Jack should go to couples therapy or smthn

12: The Dark.

Okay hear me out. It’s the oldest fear entity, which I think really folds in with 12s general air of wisdom and the fact he’s been around a fucking long time. Also, he has that entire episodes where he tries to find out what lives in the dark at the end of the universe, and what lives under the bed that absolutely does not wish to be seen.

Clara: Also The Desolation

She is sooooo self destructive man. Especially after Danny Pink dies, she’s willing to burn it all to the ground. Her eventual demise is because she is impulsive to a fault, and in some ways it could be argued she has a death wish.

Bill: The Vast

She just gives me that childlike wonder for new worlds and the open sky. IK this seems like pretty vague reasoning but I think like Simon Fairchild she just loves the vastness of the universe so much that she eventually goes travelling with star eyed girl to see it all.

13: also The Vast

Citing that youthful wonder again. Honestly I don’t know much about 13 or her companions so if you have Headcanons for Yaz, Ryan, Graham and 13 hmu! Tag them below

The War Doctor: The Extinction

Self explanatory. He’s the doctor who ends it all, his entire species. And that choice defines and haunts him into future incarnations.

The Master: The Slaughter

Senseless chaotic violence for the sake of violence. Sounds pretty on brand.

If you have any contradictions, additional thoughts, or help on 13s era I’d love to hear it in the tags!!!

[small-but-oho]

Hi! I’m running over here to say THANK YOU FOR YOUR RECENT POST ABOUT DRAMATIC TENSION IN G/T!!!!

I have been shouting into the void about this with friends of mine for YEARS!!

Where did all the fear and angst in the community go?? Why is it all just rainbows and butterflies now? Having light to balance out the dark is great, don’t get me wrong, but I SOOOO agree with you: the entire basis of g/t is its very significant power imbalance.

If we’re all unwilling to acknowledge that then literally what is even the point of making something g/t in the first place? If it’s just two people hanging out… how is that g/t? Where are the stakes? What do these characters want? What are they fighting for? What makes life hard for them that they want to change?

I say this all the time: bad things NEED to happen in fiction. It’s the ONLY WAY to tell a story. Watch any movie or tv show and you’ll see this at play. We want our fictional heroes to struggle, to be afraid and to fight for something because that creates an actual plot.

I, too, am deeply disillusioned by the lack of actual fear and danger in g/t now. Let’s all be honest and acknowledge that being small next to someone so much bigger would be TERRIFYING and not without significant physical and emotional challenges to overcome.

It’s so frustrating when a small character meets a larger one and within .004 seconds they immediately trust them, with their life literally in a stranger’s hands. It’s doesn’t make any sense and leaves so many opportunities for good story telling on the table.

The struggle to adapt to a new environment, to make yourself heard in the face of invalidation, to discover you matter even though you’re different are all tropes that require some kind of unfair dynamic in order to be explored.

I find that journey to be actually super validating! Navigating a dynamic where you feel less than or not taken seriously or surrounded by danger and finding a way to fight through that? Isn’t that quite literally the textbook definition of empowerment and self actualization?

Okay, I’ve gone on long enough, but I just wanted to reach out because it’s so so so refreshing to see someone else in this community actually addressing this!

You rock! Have a wonderful day and keep exploring your story telling, because I think you’ve absolutely got the right idea!

AAAAAAAAAH THANK YOU FOR THIS MESSAGE!!!

I'm so glad you feel the same way ♥️

I legit wonder why this shift towards safe, nonconfrontational works occurred. Is it in reaction to the general state of the world? An influx in new users, who just aren't into fear and angst? Reaction to internet censorship? Idk.

And tbh it's also kinda disheartening as a dark subjects enjoyer. I do wanna write and create works that cater to my interests, but when you look into the tag, it feels like an uphill battle.

So yeah, if you want to, feel free to send me a msg off anon. Maybe we need to cultivate our own little community of like-minded people.

[elvencantation]

weird things i don’t know if i can attribute to trauma or adhd or social anxiety:

-super sensitive smell and taste. carbonation hurts my tongue

-sometimes brain decides perfectly good food is bad (usually if i’ve had it too many times or its too bland) and if i make myself eat it i’ll have a stomachache (also sometimes i just don’t have the energy to try new foods)

-subset of this: i am very sad when my tomatoes or nectarines (or anything else that i love to be firm) is soft or otherwise unusually textured. like if i can see they’re wrinkly or lumpy i will not eat them. i am currently staring at some sad tomatoes being like. will my mouth accept them or will they be too soft

-unspoken social rules i don’t know and anxiety about new social situations i have no context for, no list of example responses and what it leads to

-i have two social modes that its very hard to find middle ground between: stranger and person who is safe

-bothers me when people are wrong about something and i am often not able to stop myself from correcting them

-very blunt and bad at subtext, take things way too literally especially when im tired

-let me expound on that. even when i know the question isn’t meant literally, usually i answer it literally first, then as they meant it. i play it off as a joke but it’s hard to resist being totally and completely honest if there isn’t a reason (like info about myself i think people don’t need to know)

-no understanding of peer pressure and why someone would change themselves to fit in (like srsly how do you find genuine friends with common interests and stuff if you’re hiding who you are?)

-annoyed by overly self-deprecating statements. have dealt with this by being overly sarcastic like- OH MY GOD. HOW DARE YOU HAVE HUMAN EMOTIONS AROUND ME, ANOTHER HUMAN YOU TRUST AND WHO CARES ABOUT YOU???

-constant over analysis of myself and how new people perceive me, esp coworkers (since they’re not friends, they don’t choose to spend time with me) UPDATE: i’ve mostly stopped doing this. turns out it was social anxiety and the fact that i had to meet like over fifty new coworkers at once

-i logic my own emotions. i can logic myself out of them sometimes if they’re negatively affecting me. usual example: i can usually set aside my anxiety at something if there's nothing i can do to change it. or more accurately if i've taken a step towards fixing whatever triggered it

-very slow reflexes/processing time

-can’t stand pet hair on my clothes or stuff

⁃very fluid sense of opinion. very influenced by the opinions of those im close to. to the point where a dress i loved, i couldn’t bear to wear because my mom said it looked trashy. to the point where my best friend said she didn’t like a song, so i didn’t really like it (i just listened to it, and its not a bad song. i think i do like it? idk) i think this used to be more severe when i had less self confidence but still happens now sometimes

-secondhand embarrassment can become so unbearable and i have to plug my ears and want to hide. sometimes will literally hide if possible if the situation is happening irl

-dissociating after 2+ hours staring at a screen

-if there’s no background noise i can hear my ears ringing and that’s not fun

-i never get angry. upset sure. anger or rage? i can remember feeling properly angry like. once. when my brother was young and traumatized and did something totally stupid and fucked with my sweet cousin. that’s… pretty much it. but mostly it was my protective instinct and i think i was scared cause i didn’t understand what was happening

-the sheer panic and frustration that happens when someone misunderstands my words consistently. like if you cannot understand what i am saying how do i communicate with you? in the time honored words of dr seuss: "i meant what i said and i said what i meant"

-this might be a mom trauma thing but- when someone's less emotive and quieter around me, they are mad at me. but if they smile at something i said, they are no longer mad at me

-i need a wide information on all the ways a certain social interaction will go before i feel confident participating

-i tend to dominate conversations with my interests and am very bad at asking specific questions. usually i just try to encourage people to do what i do and tell me their interests my association

[eddies-disability-swag-blog]

So, I have a lot of friends with dissociative disorders, one actually became aware of their (they as in multiples, neither of them uses they/them iirc) DID quite recently.

And like, I’ve been trying to talk about my experiences with dissociation and depersonalization with them, but no one seems to relate to what happened to me and I just feel so alone.

So, if you find any of the following relatable, I’d love to talk about it. I am very scared of it, but I think it would be nice to meet people who have gone through the same.

CW: Mentions of death and descriptions of dissociation

I feel like I have died multiple times. Well, not me, but someone else died and now I’m in their place.

I think this has happened about 3 times, the last time was around 2015.

When “I” died, I just woke up one day, feeling strange and out of place. Nothing usually felt real. My memories felt like they weren’t mine, I had no connection to my names, my family felt like strangers that knew me. I still recognized everything, but after waking up, I was a completely different person. Eventually the odd feelings would disappear and I’d assume my role as the person leading the body, or at least most of the time that happened. It was a very weird experience, like growing up suddenly in one night, feeling completely altered, but still somewhat like me deep inside.

I don’t think I have multiples, or at least not ones that existed simultaneously, if that even makes sense. The different identities just replaced the past ones, one after the other.

The first one was what I assume was a girl. She loved to wear one of my sister’s purple dresses and role play as Minnie Mouse. She was really jealous of the cute little princess costumes my grandma made for my sister and cousins. She must’ve died when I was like 7.

Number 2 was a weird one. They didn’t think of themselves as human, to them they were just in this body temporarily and soon they’d return to their home to their real family. They’d also communicate with their family using methods I will not describe because I don’t really want to talk about them.

This must be the time where the autism dehumanization kicked in or smth.

No idea how long they lasted for really.

Then there was number 3, probably a girl, like a sequel to number 1. She was really not that remarkable. Since the purple dress and my sister’s other clothes were too small for us then, she explored her gender through club penguin and MLP. She wanted to be a club penguin YouTuber and then a MLP YouTuber and then an everything YouTuber. She died around 2015.

There’s a possibility there might be a secret number 4 since I have a lot of missing gaps from 2016, but eh, the others didn’t cause me amnesia, that might be something different.

And then I was born! I’m by far the oldest, at almost 10 years old. Idk what else to say. I’m not a girl. I��m somewhat a guy, so he/they pls, in that order.

I don’t think I have alters. I don’t think I have DID, I don’t have amnesia and stuff and my personality and sense of self is fairly consistent.

There’s been times I’ve allegedly woken up, done stuff, talked to people, promised to do stuff, go back to sleep and then wake up again, remembering nothing. But I think that’s more a sleep disorder, night terror or sleep walking rather than me having a cohabitant that only wakes up to make me look bad and untrustworthy.

Anyways, remember, if you relate to any of this and wanna talk about it, pls DM me.

[blackreaderfics]

absolutely obsessed with your dick grayson fics 😭🩷 could you write a fic where the reader isn’t actually shy she just doesn’t talk that much and dick and her haven’t really had a conversation as friends before but when a mission involves her past she opens up to him and it’s fluffy? If not that ok!

Thank you!! idk if I can call this a fic but here’s a drabble 😅

Dick Grayson is no stranger to strays. He sees someone that reminds him of himself—an orphan, alone and in despair—and immediately wants to take them in much like his adoptive father, Bruce. So when he brought you in to the fray as a Titan, he really wanted to make sure you were getting the care and attention you needed.

Unlike Bruce, Dick shows a lot more affection. He wants to bond with you, make you feel like you’re welcome as a Titan. You don’t say anything more than you have to which is definitely not appreciated by some members of the team. A “hey Y/N!” from Dick is received by a nod, or maybe a grunt of acknowledgement by you. Most times you don’t say anything to your team at all. You don’t—can’t—open up to them easily.

You’ve been burned too many times before to be blindly trusting anyone. Especially people like Dick. You’re wary of him. He’s too nice to you; he smiles too much. It has to be an act, right? You’ve learned not to get your hopes up so the whole time you’re a Titan, you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So when you’re on a mission to stop with the team and get struck by Scarecrow’s fear gas, your worst nightmares play incessantly across your mind. Memories of the death of your parents, of abuse and neglect, and loneliness cloud your vision. This is how it’s always been. The voices in your head are chanting that you’re worthless and meant to be alone.

When Dick finds you, you’re rocking yourself back and forth, eyes glazed as you mutter these negative affirmations to yourself. In your haze you can’t see or feel Dick, you can only faintly hear his words.

“Y/N, are you alright? Whatever they’re telling you don’t listen. Listen to me, you’re not worthless ok?”

You don’t know who you’re talking to but you answer back, completely convicted. “I am! I’m meant to be alone!

Dick has experienced fear gas before, he knows the horrors that are shown, and how tough it can be to break out of it. He’s patient and levelheaded, combatting all your negative talk and turning them around with his positive ones.

“No one is meant to be alone.”

When you finally come to, he’s still by your side, hands gripping your shoulders. You don’t know why, but you’re so relieved to see a familiar face even if it’s Dick’s. You pull him into a hug, and he’s so surprised he lets out a laugh. He holds you tight in a reassuring embrace.

“Welcome back, Y/N.”

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Hey, not sure if it’s recognizable but it’s the same anon who doesn’t know how to start messages. If you don’t mind me asking (I feel the need to ask permission for everything to be polite. Hope that’s not annoying. Also the need to use parenthesis to explain my actions like right now…I’ll stop), since I saw that it says you’re writing a fantasy book (I think, hopefully I’m not wrong), what’s it about? Feel free to share as much or as little as you like, I’m simply curious about it. Also also, somewhat unrelated, do you have any other favorite genres aside from Whump?

Again, feel free to answer as in depth or as curt as you want, I don’t mean to put pressure on you (people like talking about their works, right?). And also make sure you stay hydrated and take care of yourself and all that :)

-idk

Figured I’d leave a little tag as a little reference or something. Okay I’m going to stop before I start rambling-

Sorry it took so long to answer this one! I had to do a lot of writing for it. I'll TRY to give a summary of my in-progress trilogy, but it's pretty long since it's a full 3-book series and each book is HUGE and I've never been good at summarizing anyway LOL. But here goes!

The trilogy is about a teenager named Thomas whose dad mysterious died and whose brother Lucas went missing shortly after. Thomas is a hacker who is skilled with technology and is determined to track his brother down, convinced that he was kidnapped and needs saving. But every lead he finds comes to a dead end. He's dropped out of school and cut off his entire social life to dedicate more time to tracking down his missing brother.

Tanner, a close adult friend of his, worries about him getting into trouble and potentially going to prison since he has committed several felonies already by hacking into government databases during his search. So, he suggests seeking help from a friend of his. Only thing is... this friend isn't human. And she hates humans. But his secret friend (named Shadow) ALSO hates the same organization Thomas is trying to get in to, who has his brother Lucas. She is dangerous and powerful, and could be an incredibly valuable ally. She is one of the last survivors of a thought-to-be-extinct race called Falkry, with ancient powers. They were thought to have died off centuries ago, after Falley were hunted and slaughtered by the dozens by humans.

So with a mutual enemy, Tanner tries to get Shadow and Thomas together to talk, though Shadow wants nothing to do with it at first and despises Thomas (making many threats toward him in the beginning). She hates the fact that he is human, the same race that killed so many of her bloodline. She is ancient, supposed to be nothing more than a myth, a legend. She's one of the only survivors that exists. But eventually Tanner gets her on the team and together they manage to Lucas back.

Until a new stranger comes into play, someone just like Shadow. Which is strange since her species is supposed to be extinct. It leads into a mystery theme where Shadow is eager to discover this new stranger's identity, and *spoilor* it turns out to be her own brother (named Rowan) who died in her arms ages ago. But it turns out there was an enemy who found a way to bring him back to life to use him as a weapon, but he is corrupted, and is willing to fight Shadow to achieve his goal, which is to destroy the human city because humans are what got him killed in the first place.

And while Shadow HATES humans, she knows that if Rowan launches a large-scale attack on the city, it will spark a war between her kind and humans, and the humans have the numbers to finally make her species extinct for good. So it creates some internal conflict where Shadow is torn between not hurting her brother who she still loves, and stopping him to save the human city to prevent all-out war.

There is an epic battle at the end, where both Rowan and Shadow end up seriously injured, when Thomas appears and shoots a crazed Rowan to save Shadow -- but it doesn't work out like he expected, because then Rowan's focus shifts to killing HIM instead.

While Rowan's back is turned, Shadow gets up from where she'd been bleeding and broken on the ground -- and runs up to her brother, and kills him with her own dagger, finally accepting that he's too far gone to save. So her brother dies in her arms for a second time, shattering her heart with grief despite how much trauma and pain she's already endured.

After that, she decides to disappear from the map entirely, leaving Thomas and the human city to fly miles into the ocean to a lost island called Falkradia where her species used to exist before they were chased out by humans -- she wants to be alone, and be done with all the fighting and bloodshed. She partly blames Thomas for putting her in a situation where she had to choose between him and her brother in the first place, blaming him for forcing her to kill Rowan.

The island is hidden from all human radars and is surrounded by an eternal storm that shields it from view, a storm vicious enough to shred nearly any human vessel that tries to go through it to reach the island inside. So Shadow leaves the team Tanner helped put together.

This all takes place in book 1.

In book 2, to make it brief, a new threat arises that Shadow is one again recruited to help defeat, Tanner sending her a message via her close friend raven who knows how to fly through the storm and reach Falkradia to deliver the message to her asking for help.

Despite how morally-gray and careless Shadow is depicted as in book 1, she does show up to rejoin the team, though she is not enthusiastic about it.

A series of events occur after she comes back from ten island, but in the final battle against the overpowered foe... she dies to save Thomas. It has some powerful symbolism because up to this point Shadow has been very impassive and uncaring toward anyone, full of bitter anger and hatred, so no one knew she actually secretly cared about what happened to Thonas, who is her natural enemy as a human.

But Shadow still manages to kill her enemy right before she collapses in a final last act of good, and Thomas can't do anything but watch her slowly bleed out. Cue extremely sad death and drawn-out scene to rip reader's heart apart. The aftermath is tragic as the team grieves the loss of the morally-gray hero who gave her life to save and protect a human friend. (Okay, it wasn't as brief as I hoped oops)

In book three, a different kind of antagonist/protagonist plot develops, and it's a danger that Tanner, Thomas and the team know they would never stand a chance against on their own.

That's when Tanner reveals that he actually knows a way to bring back the dead. So they eventually agree to bring Shadow back after five long years of her being dead... but she isn't herself. She immediately starts attacking her friends the moment she is alive again, her mind and thoughts fractured from being dead for so long. And considering how dangerous she is, Thomas and friends have to find a way to take her down before she can kill them. And on TOP of that is the lingering anxiety surrounding the new threat they have to deal with, knowing that Shadow is likely the only one powerful enough to help destroy it -- IF they can get the legendary hero back, mind and soul included.

There is a LOT more details I left out for the sake of time, but these summaries hopefully give the vague gist of the stories (all 3 books in the trilogy are spectacularly lengthy so it's hard to give a good summary)

And my favorite genres aside from Whump is Science-Fiction & Fantasy

[the-painted-siren]

Tell me EVERYTHING about Lyra 🔪 👀 👁️💝⚠️🌨️🧁🧶🌲🧡🐸

Yessiree, I can do that!! Haha :D (if you want, I also answered this ask that covers Lyra’s general background.)

👁️ - How do other people perceive Lyra? How close do their first assumptions come to the truth?

Most people in Ninjago (strangers, especially) tend to perceive Lyra as genuinely small, harmless, and unthreatening—such a sweet girl. Her regular customers, including the ninja, find her short-tempered, witty, and at times a little rude, especially if provoked.

Seeing as Lyra can shape shift into an utterly massive, battle ready demon, I’d say half of their first assumptions are usually correct. She is genuinely kind, she will also just… rip your head off if you pose a threat haha.

(This part is somewhat based off of Japanese folklore, where some Oni can shape shift to seem like human beings for various reasons.)

💝 - How much effort do they put into appearances? Do they have a favorite article of clothing?

I’d say Lyra doesn’t put too much effort into her appearance. She doesn’t wear make up or anything too fancy, and she leans towards clothing that’s practical yet presentable. She usually wears sensible black tops that show off her shoulders, where she has a lot of a freckles. It’s her way of raising a middle finger to her mom, who used to make negative comments about them to Lyra growing up.

If she has a key piece, it’s probably her dangly, butterfly earrings.

⚠️ - If this oc came with a warning sign, what would it be?

Warning: Biting Hazard. Friend or foe, she will bite you.

🌨️ - If this oc had a day free from all their responsibilities, how would they spend it?

She’d probably close down her shop, brew a cup of hot tea, find somewhere comfy in her room, and read a book—usually a mystery novel. Maybe she’d play some jazz music in the background. That or she’d spend time with Calem and/or Lloyd.

🧁 - When is their birthday? How do they celebrate it, if at all?

Ooh, I never actually figured out a specific date for her. It’s probably a late winter, early spring birthday. She’d probably want to celebrate it quietly, with a few close people, maybe some matcha-flavored ice cream or cake. (Not that the ninja are quiet because they absolutely would barge in with the whole nine yards worth of a birthday party.)

🧶 - Do they do any arts, crafts, or creative hobbies?

She cultivates tea plants? Idk, she likes to collect a lot of pictures and trinkets from her favorite memories, so maybe she’d have a side hobby in scrapbooking or bullet journaling?

🌲 - Do they have a favorite location to hang out in?

Her tea shop. It’s a warm, soft reminder of her auntie and the good memories she shared with her.

🧡 - Physical touch: good or bad for this oc?

Good! She loves hugs and kisses and cuddles. :D

🐸 - What’s this oc’s sense of humor like?

Witty humor! Like the kind Mystaké and Wu had before the former’s death. Or like the quips the ninja have.

She also has a soft spot for clever humor like riddles and good puns. A harmless prank is A-OK in her book as well.

Edit: absolutely nuts that I mention Lyra’s butterfly earrings while answering questions but don’t actually draw her in them. That has been rectified :D

[c0rpseductor]

rambling to myself abt responses to pfeil, this isn’t about anybody i’m friends with so please don’t worry

on the one hand i don’t mind that people call pfeil cute bc like. i’m aware he’s cute, he’s based on me and the consistent compliment i get is that i’m young-looking and cute, i designed him to look cute, and i often play up his cuteness intentionally

but on the other hand sometimes when that’s the only thing i hear about him (and myself) it gets irritating. pfeil is designed to look cute but he’s also a pretty complex and sometimes dark and offputting character, he’s not a moeblob, and i don’t always like seeing that response to art where i didn’t intend for him to look or act Cute as the main takeaway or even a factor at all. like i guess sometimes i just feel like it’s the compliment people default to because he’s fat, and they might talk about him in other ways if he were thin.

but then i also call him a little cutie like constantly so i may well be perpetuating this lol. idk i’m just kind of rambling. i don’t want the takeaway to be that i resent the compliments (i like them!) or that it bothers me that people think of pfeil as cute (they should!), it’s more this kind of nebulous feeling of being Typecast. like “cute” is sometimes what comes out instead of “oh he looks so good at hugs :]” or whatever. which is more a worry i have when strangers call him cute, i don’t think this way when my friends do

it’s not necessarily like i would feel better if people started calling him HOT either lol, like i get that pfeil isn’t conventionally attractive for a guy and that’s fine. i don’t expect or need anybody to find him sexy. i think it’s just the feeling of like, geez, can’t he even be sexy in the abstract or is he doomed to be a silly widdle teddy bear due to fat and trans and effeminate regardless of the context. I May Be Projecting A Bit.

[a-dumbass-jester]

Witch’s heart x The Magnus archives au!!!

Claire - Vast

Ashe - Spiral

Wilardo - End/Hunt

Sirius - Eye

Noel - Flesh

Charlotte - Slaughter

Zizel - Stranger

Lime - Desolation

Rouge - Web

!!Also quick disclaimer it’s been a hot minute since I’ve been into wh so some things might be incorrect!!

First off idk if this is just wh but with the entities of if it’s entirely tma’s world. It’s probably going to be the first tho

Also all the demons are human(or at least used to be)

Also for non tma meowtuals here is a chart of the entities and here is a video essays for them(it’s unfinished, there’s still two entities to cover) i also linked the wiki pages for the entities mentioned, if anyone is interested (I’d recommend listening to the actual thing but if you don’t wanna watch 200 episodes to understand this, here you go)

- Vast!claire was actually the second to last one I came up with. If Wilardo’s still immortal/ 500 years old she realizes that in a few hundred years no one will remember her and that she doesn’t matter in the big picture. And while initially it scares her later she instead finds comfort in it. She becomes a lot like Simon. Becoming a very “live in the moment” kind of person. “I don’t matter in the long run why not have some fun”. I can also she her having fun with the falling thing. There’s a hc I remember seeing for the vast avatars (specifically Simon) where their eyes changed depending on the sky. Claire already has blue eyes, just add clouds or stars!!

- Spiral!Ashe because they have a lot if similar themes. Spiraling mental health, hallucinations, fake friends, manipulation. I can see him trying to bring his family back and accidentally sacrificing himself to it instead. Also it’s avatars are typically very tall and thin(and colorful). I also like the idea of Ashe being a surreally tall, thin and colorful hallucinatory headache. The spiral has a fake place called “Sannikov Land” and I can imagine him saying he’s from there

- End/Hunt!Wilardo. Idk witch one to pick so I’ll explore both. The end is mainly if he’s still immortal. If he is, he finds comfort in it and that the end will take all eventually. It might be centuries but it will take him and he will finally get to rest. I also rlly like him with the ends powers. Like the dreams of peoples deaths, THE ROOTS (That show how people DIE!!!)

For the hunt, it’s mainly if gramps is alive (and their both mortal) mainly because I’m assigning them to Julia and Trevor. At some point them meet probably dealing with the end or another entity and end up sticking with each other in a similar was Julia and Trevor did (idk how they met I just assume that’s what happened), and both of them end up becoming part of the hunt

- Eye!Sirius, idk how he got marked but I assume maybe messing with Dorothy’s stuff or a leitner. I think the wanting to know, see and understand thing fits with Sirius very well. I can see him using it to call bs on some stuff Ashe says. Like going back to “Sannikov Land”, Ashe says he’s from there and Sirius is like “no your not. That’s not a real place.”

- Flesh!Noel is the last and most difficult one I came up with. It’s also a bit weak but it fits the best. Originally I chose it because of the flesh monster he becomes. But the rest of it kinda fits as well. The flesh is strongly associated with dysphoria, and even if you don’t hc him as trans that would still be a lot of dysphoria he would of had as a kid. I also rlly like Noel having a more animalistic fear. He became an avatar when he was cursed in cannon

- Slaughter!Charlotte. It seems a bit easy giving the war criminal the war and (sudden) violence one but anyway. She’s probably still (mostly) human. just a bit more (openly) violent, and quick to do so. The slaughter is also strongly associated with music, specifically air(?) instruments so I like to picture her walking onto a battlefield (especially no man’s land) in an actual war/military uniform playing the flute or something.

- Stranger!Zizel. This one was kinda a bias because the stranger’s my favorite(and I love Zizel) but I also LOVE uncanny valley doll Zizel. Idk if she was ever human because the stranger seems to prefer manifestations over human avatars. And either would work so idk. I feel like it adds to the lack of identity tbh. But anyways uncanny valley doll Zizel <3<3

- Desolation!Lime. This one was probably one of, it not the easiest to assign. From the fire themes, to the destruction of others and their lives. I can see her with a similar role to Jude Perry. She encounters the cult of the lightless flame sometime in her 20s (specifically 25 because that’s when she becomes a demon in cannon) and falling in love with their beliefs. I can see Lime following Jude’s story in general. She joins the lightless flame in the 80s/90s and after becoming an avatar she becomes made of wax. I like to imagine her and Sirius as that one scene where Jude and Jon meet. They make a deal where Lime would tell Sirius (pre eye) something important but they have to shake hands, lime, made of wax, burns his hand.

I can also see Matty being part of the lightless flame. Like the burning down Ashes house and destroying his life is something they would do

- Web!Rouge. I feel like control theming fits well with Rouge. If anyone were to create structured plans on how things could go I feel like I would be her. The web also has stong themes of addiction, puppets, and that your actions aren’t rlly yours, which I can see fitting. I also rlly like a spider like Rouge. Like her with multiple spider like eyes and arms. The web is also called “the mother of puppets” which I can see fitting her. I also sometimes see people draw her with a web on her jacket so

Other side stuff (world building kinda)

I’m rlly glad I assigned Web and Desolation to Rouge and Lime because their known to not get along. They constantly clash because of the Web’s intricate plans and the Desolation’s destructive chaos

I feel like do to how close Noel is with Rouge, he was also marked by the web. Not a very strong mark but still a mark.

Dorothy plays a similar role to Gertrude because she deserves to be an absolute badass. She’s spent a good majority of her life fighting the entities, stoping rituals, etc.

Fiona and Sirius’s parents were still accused of being “witchs” and burned but this time the main motivator was that Nicholas would accuse people of serving an entity

Speaking of Fiona Elford I’m giving her Fiona Law’s role because they share a name

(Also I would link Fiona Law’s wiki page but she doesn’t have one apparently)

Fiona would pass out when she got scared which helped her survive against the entities. She would be unconscious so they couldn’t feed off of her fear, and left her alone

Giving more to the role Gramps is going to play, Trevor is a vampire hunter, so Gramps would probably take that role, and and fell victim to the hunt first and later finds Wilardo.

That’s basically it!!

I don’t have much for plot. It’s jut wh characters in tma so I assume it’s like just that plot

Wait actually they still meet in the mansion but it’s connected to the entities

There’s no murder or timelines but it was genuinely the rain!

The entities mess with them for a bit and are let out a bit later either before the change or as it’s happening

The five of them wonder a apocalyptic world where the entities have taken over (and maybe meet the “demons” again)

That’s genuinely it!!! If anyone has any ideas, please say something, I’d love to talk more about this

Thank you for reading!!