#both crazed for blood and laughs and screams

[caramelteaa]

Every once in a while, I think of the last day of Golden Goose where they just went fuck it and went on a murderous rampage, but what really stuck with me

Was that Tubbo was a TERRIFYING PURGATORY TRACKER

He will find every single way he can within his ingame knowledge to retrace a team and it WORKED. He only barely missed gray's base

I do not know if it count as bm but goddess was it scary to watch in a good way

[dissapointu]

Jinx with a sick in the head gf

Comin right up

————————————————————————

You were always a little different. Maybe it was the way you laughed a little too loud, or how your eyes would sparkle with mischief at the most inappropriate times. You’d sit in the corner of the room, scribbling things into a notebook—ideas for the chaos you dreamed of, scribbled in a way only someone like you could understand. But that didn’t matter to Jinx. She liked it. Hell, she loved it.

She would often sneak glances at you when you weren’t looking, her lips curling into a wicked grin. You could always tell when she was plotting something in that chaotic mind of hers—her blue hair would twitch, her eyes would flicker with an unhinged kind of glee. And you? Well, you were happy to let her drag you into whatever mess she was making.

That’s how it started, really. You weren’t like anyone else to her. She could tell you were sick—sick in the head, just like her. Everyone else saw her as a freak, a monster, a bomb waiting to explode. But you? You understood. You didn’t judge her; you’d look at her with that weird, understanding smile that would make her heart beat a little faster, make her feel something she wasn’t quite sure how to handle.

The day everything went to hell was just another day in the wreckage of your lives.

You were running through the streets of Zaun with her, grinning like a couple of wild animals on the loose. She was laughing, pulling at your hand as you both darted through alleyways and between barrels, her infectious energy pulling you along. “C’mon, we gotta blow this thing sky high!” she screamed, her voice bubbling with that manic excitement she always had when she was in the middle of something fun.

And then it happened.

You saw the flash first. It was a blur, something that didn’t make sense at first. And then, pain. Excruciating pain. A sharp searing heat spread across your chest, and you gasped, stumbling forward into her arms as your vision blurred.

“HEY!” Jinx’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. “What the hell?! What’s wrong with you?!”

You could barely hear her over the ringing in your ears, the blood pounding in your head. She shook you, frantic now, her hands gripping your shoulders like she could hold your life together with just her touch. Her eyes were wide, not with the usual crazed glee, but with something darker. Something real.

“No, no, no,” she mumbled, her voice cracking. “You can’t—you can’t be hurt. Not like this. Not you.”

You tried to smile, but the pain made it hard. “Guess I’m the one who’s gonna blow up now,” you wheezed, trying to make light of it. You had to—she would hate it if you didn’t.

Her laugh was brittle, broken. She shook her head, her fingers trembling as she pressed against your wound, trying to stop the blood. “No, no, no, no, no,” she whispered like a mantra, her usually sharp voice crumbling with fear. “You can’t be gone. You just can’t. I—”

“Jinx,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your hand reaching up to touch her face. Her eyes locked on yours, wide and unblinking. “I’m fine… just—just stay with me, okay?”

But you could see it in her eyes. She was spiraling. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. Not anymore.

“I—I’m not gonna let you die,” she choked, her hands shaking as she tried to pick you up, cradling you in her arms like you were fragile, like you weren’t the same crazy, dangerous duo who’d been setting fire to the city for days.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a sob. “You’re my everything.”

And that was when you realized: Jinx wasn’t just in love with the chaos. She was in love with you. She needed you just as much as she needed her madness.

With shaky hands, you cupped her face, smiling weakly. “I’ll be okay, Jinx. Don’t worry.”

But she wasn’t listening. She wasn’t listening to anything anymore. You had become the center of her universe, the one thing she couldn’t live without. And as the world around you swirled, all you could do was cling to her, knowing that you would take her down with you if you had to. Because she would follow you to the ends of the earth, wouldn’t she?

You just hoped that, for once, she wouldn’t have to.

I don't know why I made this sad towards then end-

[defenestrationn]

Sebek Angst

trigger Warning *technically major character death?* Yuu has already passed and this is following sebek's Journey of mourning his love

Indented areas are flashbacks

The sounds of soft clicking fill Sebek's study while he worked. Writing had become the crocodile's escape once he was done with his shifts guarding his lord, Malleus. For a while, the loss of his beloved, Yuu, had rendered him a husk. A husk who refused anything out of his routine. 

Wake up. Eat. Guard. Eat again. Journal. Sleep. Repeat. He did that for his whole life. But it felt so much more hollow now. Books full of his grief filled his shelves. The rows above are full of stories you two shared. So many are full of his love and admiration. 

One such book laid open on his desk. Between the furious bursts of typing, he would reread parts of the journal. Relive that moment so he could write it once again. To now allow the world to know his love for you. A part of him wished the stories would go back to you. So you can hear his love once again. 

  laughter filled the broken-down dorm as the first year's all spoke over their notes and food. times where the group just got to be school kids. Not fighting overblots or some crazed person or a ghost bride. They were just allowed to be themselves. 

  Sebek swore only Yuu could foster this environment.  It had been almost a year of their constant blood sweat and tears to make this place habitable. Hell, Even other students enjoyed spending their time here, with or without the prefect.

  Slowly, as the night went on, the students began to go and do their own things. Some go to bed, and others just retire to their rooms to wind down. However,  Sebek stood in the kitchen with the prefect. It had become a routine for the pair to clean up together. light chatter filled the air as the boy was handed wet dishware to dry off. 

  “Human.  I've noticed you've read most of the books in your possession.  We shall go together to select more. Do you need any other stationery?” 

  “I would love to go on a date with you,  Sebek.”

He froze at the way you laughed. Was his intention that obvious?

A soft smile sat on his lips as he relived the beginning of your relationship.  Human.. oh how that word cuts him deep now. humans had such short life spans, even to the half fae. You had passed well into your 80s. And from what Lilia had explained, that was a long healthy life for a human. 

He had kept about 70 years worth of writings about you. Every date you had, he would write in detail, every milestone would have a chapter. All of the love letters you had both sent. He kept all of it. Every memory he had of you. 

Devoted. That's all the boy had ever been to you or Malleus. If he could live, eat and breathe you. He would.

But now, in the nights,  he lives his life glued to his computer.  Giving you another life. Giving you both a new live story. One in the world you would tell him about. One where magic didn't exist. One where he was human too.

 A world where you could live and die together.  Neither suffering for centuries begging for the other. 

  The day you both graduated was one sebek could never forget. You looked absolutely glowing, proud to have kept up in a world that felt like it was against you. And yet, he was the one who screamed your praise the whole way. 

Once the ceremony was over,  Sebek couldn't stop himself from running to you. It was like you were magnetic.  

“Yuu! We did it!” 

He scooped up his partner in his arms as he spun them around. Words couldn't describe the pride and joy he felt over this. After all. He had an important question he had been sitting on since they got together.  

“Yuu! Now that we have graduated. Will you come live with me in Briar Valley?”

He looked back to his bed. Your favorite blanket sat folded beside his pillow. Malleus had enchanted it many years ago to never endure wear and tear. A few years later, sebek had enchanted it to forever smell like you when he had to leave for a trip. 

For a while he had cursed himself for that. The smell would make him cry himself to sleep. Begging the stars to let you return to his arms. But now? He finds great comfort in the blanket. After all, It was the first present when you had agreed to live with him.

His eyes drifted down to the black metal around his finger. It was like a traditional fae wedding ring. One of his homeland. And your matching ring sat on a chain around his neck. As close to his heart as it can get. After a few seconds of looking at his ring, he took the book from his desk to bring back to his shelf. he only took another in it's place. The one labeled “Wedding”.

The book was full, page to page,  about the events of your wedding and honeymoon. About your silly misadventures and how lucky he was to be the one to be by your side through it all.

 The wedding wasn't huge, but Sebek had paid special attention to inviting those close to you. The found family you had made in your time in this world. His family also joined. His siblings teasing the boy relentlessly for his nerves. 

The ceremony was held in a large meadow full of flowers and fireflies.  Thorns grew over arched metal that had been set long before their time. Their guests lined the isle while he stood by the officiant, clad in a dark black suit with accents of gold. His hair wasn't gelled back for once.  Instead,  he allowed the fluffy green hair to rest naturally,  the way his dear partner loved so much.

Sebek couldn't help but fiddle with the hem of his leather gloves. Once he heard the music began to fill the wind, he took them off. It was time to see his beautiful spouse. 

“You looked radiant as always, my heart.” His voice was soft as his fingers brushed over the picture of them having their first dance together.  Tears burned his eyes as he held the book close. What he would give to truly be back in those moments. One day, he will be back with his love.  Until then. He will continue to give them a new life through these books.

A/n!

This has been eating at me for a week. Hopefully yall enjoy!!

[impala-dreamer]

Carrion

A Supernatural Story

~He always was The One, and no matter what, Y/N couldn't deny him...~

Demon!Dean x F!Reader, Sam Winchester

3,018 Words

Warnings: Angst. Injury. Demonic Fuckery

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

“You really think you can do this?” 

His voice was deeper than she remembered, echoing slightly off the concrete walls. His smug laugh punched her in the gut and Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, desperate to pull up her best poker face. Not that it would matter; he could always call her bluff.

“Actually, yeah,” she replied as calmly as she could. “I think we already have.”

He offered a smirk; pearly white teeth peeking out like fangs from behind his ruddy lips. “You can’t cure what I got, Sweetheart.” He blinked and the demonic darkness appeared, flooding the green and taking away everything that was Dean. “Besides, I don’t wantcha too.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Didn’t ask for it, don’t want it. Thanks but no thanks.” He dipped his chin and Y/N shook her head at him, pulling up a smile. 

“Well, I didn’t ask to spend my summer chasing you around the country with your half-crazed brother, but...we get what we get.” Turning her back on him, she pulled the second syringe of consecrated blood from the pack and uncapped the needle. Dean held her gaze as she walked to him, blood in hand, ready to proceed. He visibly cringed when she stopped by his left arm and batted her lashes sarcastically at him. “And don’t call me ‘Sweetheart’, dick.” 

She could have been kinder, gently pressed the needle into his forearm, but he’d been riling her up for the better half of an hour, and it felt good to stab something, even if it was Dean. 

He grit his teeth and tried to hold in the scream, but the blood burned in his veins, making his body shake with fever and pain. It exploded through him; holy acid to wash away the demon. 

When the blood was gone, Y/N pulled back and bit her tongue as he convulsed, trying not to panic. It was almost the same as when Sam had done the first round, but something was different. Dean didn’t seem to fight it as hard, losing the battle against his scream a bit sooner. It rang loud through the dungeon and her heart broke for the man she used to love. 

Hissing and panting, Dean regained a fraction of composure and cracked his neck loudly. “That is… fucking uncomfortable,” he grit. 

“Is it?” she asked, trying to sound uncaring and above him. “Good.” 

With a huff, he stilled, eyes blinking back to familiar green. The forest called to her, but Y/N kept her distance. 

“Why’s that good? You suddenly enjoy torturing your friends?” 

The word cut like a hot knife through her heart and Y/N flinched. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dean said with a pout. “Friend. Hurts, doesn’t it?” 

She licked her lips and squared her shoulders, refusing to let him win. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but do us both a favor and shut the fuck up.” She popped the P and turned on her heel, hiding the hurt in her eyes. He knew just what he’d done, knew how that word hurt her, knew why. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N/N,” he teased; the clench in his jaw giving away the pain he still felt. “Don’t leave me now, we’re just getting started!”

A bottle of holy water stood on the table next to her and Y/N grabbed it, flipping the cap as she spun back around, splashing his freckled face with the blessed liquid. His flesh sizzled and steam filled the air around him as he yelled. 

“Fucking bitch!” 

The bass in his voice made her shiver and Y/N backed away quickly. 

Dean gasped and shook himself. Demon versus human, battling for the cracks in his soul. “You can throw holy water at me all you want, but it ain’t gonna change nothing.” 

Y/N pressed her palms into the table, holding herself steady. She refused to look at him, keeping her eyes on the tools at her disposal. “Yeah, but it’s fun.” Her voice cracked and she shut her eyes, hating the tremor in her lips. 

“You can’t do it,” he went on, mocking her, tempting her. “You love me too damned much.” 

Her heart nearly stopped and Y/N sucked in a shocked breath. Her spine stiffened but she clung to the table edge, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, there it is.” Dean laughed. “Love. The ultimate ‘fuck you’, isn’t it?” Testing the ropes again, he twisted his wrists and shifted a bit in the seat. “When you fall in love, you’re vulnerable. Your priorities change, your brain stops working the way it should. It’s a liability: love.”

“Are you ever going to shut up?” 

Dean smirked, knowing he was getting to her. “It’s a shame, really. You used to be a good hunter. Not great, mind you, but good. Competent. But then something happened. You let yourself fall in love, and that’s when it all went down hill, didn’t it?” 

Y/N grit her teeth and took a deep breath; nails digging into the table. 

“Your mind started playing tricks on you,” he continued, slowly drawing out her emotions, enjoying watching the muscles in her back tense, the color change in her cheeks. “It wasn’t just fun, harmless flirting after a while, was it? You fell and you fell hard. Started thinking what we had was more than we did. You let yourself dream of a future with me, let yourself believe it as if anything could really happen between us.” 

His laugh was cruel and Y/N closed her eyes, begging the tears to stay back. 

“Honestly, I just felt bad for you,” he said simply. “The last two times we fucked, it was just out of pity. Well, and to shut you up. Sad thing is, Sam always kinda had a thing for you.” He leaned forward as her eyes turned to him. “Guess you picked the wrong Winchester,” he whispered, the devil on his tongue. 

“Fuck you,” she snapped, tossing the bottle at him once more. The bulk of the wave barely reached him, but what did shut him up, searing his skin and making him groan painfully. 

“Wanna know a secret?” he asked, out of breath and exhausted. “When I get out of this chair, I’m going to rip your heart out and stomp on it.” Again, he broke into a sick laugh. “How’s that for love?”

Y/N slammed the door behind her, but she could still hear his cackling. It dug into her bones, twisted and churned inside of her like a wayward curse. She took a moment, pressing her back to the wall, letting the cold of the tile seep into her flesh. 

With her eyes closed, the tears fell, a silent betrayal of her strength. Everything he’d said was true; nothing they didn’t both know, but to hear it from him, to feel the disdain in his tone, it was gutting. 

“You OK?” 

Sam dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder and Y/N looked up, blinking away the tears. 

“Yeah,” she lied, clearing her throat. “Just needed a moment.” 

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “He’s getting to you, huh?” 

She looked away, eyes following the lines in the tile towards his old room. The room they’d carried his body to, the room they’d found empty just hours later. 

“Nah.” She wiped at her cheeks, slapping the wetness away. “Just hot in there. Did you get a hold of Cas?”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, but he’s…” 

She looked up expectantly. 

“He’s on his way.”

Y/N pulled in a deep breath and let her shoulders fall. She rolled her neck and set her jaw, ready for more. “Alright then. Backup’s on its way- let’s do this.” 

She hung back, hiding in the shadows around the edges of the room while Sam took the lead. Dean had a field day with his brother, taunting him in ways she couldn’t have dreamt up in her darkest imagination, slowly chipping away at Sam’s resolve. 

Sam stood strong through it all, fighting back when he couldn’t hold it in anymore, standing tall through each of Dean’s lies and verbal jabs. 

When he couldn’t break Sam, Dean turned his eyes to Y/N, following her slow trek around the perimeter, surely counting each heartbeat that pounded in her chest when he smiled so slickly at her. She refused to answer his catcalls, never took a step closer, skirting the walls like a thief in the night, hidden and silent, waiting, watching. 

The next dose of blood was worse than the last. 

Y/N turned her face as Dean screamed, his blood boiling, his body convulsing in pain as the cure worked on him. His voice was deafening and Y/N pressed her forehead against the stone wall, hoping the chill would calm her soul. bly shaking, Sam walked away, leaving her alone once more with the demon. 

Dean was gasping, head down resting on his chest, eyes closed, shoulders shaking. 

Y/N took a step into the light. 

“Dean?” 

He didn’t respond, had no snappy words to break her heart with. He tried to lift his head, but his body was too weak. “Is that- that all you got?” he chuckled, expelling just enough breath to make a sound. 

Y/N grabbed the Demon Knife from the table and moved closer, stepping into the circle. “Dean, look at me.” Worry laced her words and he did his best to oblige. His head rolled to the side but he managed a pathetic smile. 

“What, you gonna slice me open now?” 

“What? No. Shit.” She tossed the knife back onto the table and went to him, stopping at arm's length. “Are you OK?” 

His breath was shaky, shallow but heavy; she could see it in the quick rise and fall of his thick chest. “No. I’m not OK. I’m-” His eyes rolled back for a second and his face contorted with pain. “I think I’m dying.” He let out a sad laugh at that. “Again.” 

“You’re not dying.” Y/N held her breath as he coughed badly, a trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Shit.”  

Dean’s tongue darted out to lick away the blood and he shook his head, grinning righteously at her. “See? You’re fucking killing me with this- this cure.”

“We’re saving you.” 

Dean spat at her feet; a tiny puddle tinged with pink. “Agree to disagree.” 

Y/N shook her head. “Did you really think we wouldn’t come save you? Did you think we’d just let you run around killing people, dropping bodies wherever you went?”

“Hey, most of those were demons,” he corrected, shifting in his seat. His lips twitched as a sharp pain struck his spine. 

“Whatever.” Y/N stepped back and jumped up to sit on the edge of the table, swinging her feet above the Devil’s Trap. “We looked everywhere for you.”

Dean looked up at her through thick lashes. “No one asked you to save me. I left for a reason.” 

“Crowley tricked you.” 

“Crowley didn’t do shit. I left. Me. I chose to leave.”

Y/N crossed her arms, shook her head. “No.” 

“No?” His laugh was cut short by a pained grunt and his body twisted from the middle. “I could have stayed. Coulda come running down the hall screaming your name. Y/N, I’m alive!” He winced and clenched his jaw. “But no. I left. Take the hint.” 

“You’re being cruel,” she whispered, lip trembling. “This isn’t you.” 

“You don’t know me, you...pathetic…” Pain gripped him tight, strangling his words, his breath. “You- pathetic...cun-” He screamed again; his entire body clenched until his limbs shook. His face turned bright red and Y/N watched his struggle, green eyes flickering to black and back again too quickly for her to count how many times.

“Dean?” Her feet hit the floor.

No breath, no movement, not even a scream. 

“Dean!” She shook his shoulder, uncaring of the danger. “Come on, dammit!” She touched his cheek and Dean sucked in a deep breath. 

“Y/N?” His throat was raw, his voice soft. He looked up with clear, wet eyes filled with fear. “Help me.” 

His plea tugged at her heart but she took a step back, her hand dropping from his face. “What?” 

He swallowed hard, cringing at the pain of it. “Please,” he begged, panting and weak. “Please, you have to help me. This-the blood is killing me. Please, Y/N/N.”

Y/N screwed her eyes shut tight and shook herself. “No. I can’t.” 

He coughed again, hard; the echo rang in her head. “I’m-I’m so sorry.” 

Tears were back in her eyes and she struggled to ignore them, to push aside the tightness in her chest, the guilt. “What? What are you saying?” 

He looked up, eyes just as wet as hers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean anything I said before. It’s… I can’t…” He lost his breath, choking on nothing, on the weight of his choices. “Help me.” 

A single tear slipped down his cheek and Y/N reached out to catch it, brush it away. Her palm lay flush against his skin and Dean leaned in towards her touch, closing his eyes as the small taste of comfort wrapped around him. 

“I need you,” he whispered, lips barely moving. 

Y/N broke, falling to her knees in front of him, her hand still holding his face, thumb swiping away at another tear as it trickled down. “I’m here, Dean. I’m going to help you. We’re going to save you, I promise.” 

He nodded gently and a soft smile pulled at his raw lips. “I know.” 

Both eyes were wet now and Y/N pushed up on her knees, cradling both his cheeks, holding him lovingly. 

“I think it’s working,” she said with a hopeful smile. “Dean… you’re crying. You’re… I think it’s working. Do you feel different? Anything?” 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I-I think so.” Green eyes opened, locking on hers. “I love you, Y/N,” he said suddenly, his face twisting with familiar guilt. “I’m so sorry I never said it before, but I do. I always have.” 

Of the million things she thought he’d say, that wasn’t even in the top thousand. Her heart swelled, the tightness in her chest lifted just a tiny bit. “I…”

Dean dropped his chin and his forehead brushed against hers. She shivered and leaned up closer, unconsciously reaching for his lips. 

“I love you too, Dean.” 

The kiss was slow, soft, full of pain and apology. Y/N held onto him, refusing to let go as they struggled to breathe around the kiss, their mouths hungry for each other. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, Y/N came alive, something deep inside of her sizzling like water in a pan. 

“I need you, Y/N,” he said again, breath hot on her cheek. “Please.” 

Her mind in a fog, Y/N climbed into his lap, knees pressing into the small space beside his hips. She kissed him like it was the first time and the last all rolled into one; excited and sad, scared and aroused. Her fingers tugged through his hair, marveling at the length, using her grip to turn his face where she needed. 

She moaned his name as his tongue traced the shell of her ear, teeth scraping the tender dangling flesh at the end. “God, I missed you…”

Dean bit down on her shoulder and bucked his hips, sending Y/N into a frenzy. She closed her eyes and rolled her hips over him, grinding down on the hardness growing in his jeans. “Fuck.” 

“Untie me,” he whispered, “just one hand and I can make you feel so good, Y/N, please.” 

Her head was swimming, blood singing with lust and love. “I… no, I can’t.” 

He licked at her pulse, sucked a heavy kiss against her throat. “Please, baby,” he growled, “just one.” 

He bit down a little too hard and Y/N snapped out of the spell, the clouds lifting from her mind. “Wait. No! Fuck!”

She sat back and Dean grinned devilishly. 

“Ya know what?” he said, cracking his neck, “I don’t need your help. I think I can get it myself…”

When Sam returned, the door was open. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, he walked in, breath instantly halting as he saw the empty chair, its broken arm, the frayed ropes. 

Dean was gone. 

Sam rushed inside and fell to his knees. Y/N lay at the foot of the chair, clothes torn and hair a mess. 

“Y/N!” He reached for her, carefully turning her onto her back. She was breathing but barely, her face and throat splattered with blood. “No, no, no…” 

Her eyes fluttered open and she pulled in a heavy breath. “Sam-”

“Hey. Hey, it’s OK. I got you.” 

She shook her head and winced as she tried to sit up. Pain spread through her body from the top down and she grit her teeth, trying to stay strong. “He tricked me. He’s…you have to stop him.”

Sam huffed out a deep breath. “I will. I promise.” 

Dean’s voice echoed through the halls and they both turned, fear shrouding their faces. “Come on, Sammy. Wanna hang out with your big brother? A little quality time?”

Y/N shuddered. “Go. Hurry.” 

Sam grabbed the Knife from the table as he ran off, leaving Y/N to pull herself together. 

She stood slowly, every inch of her aching where his fists had landed; not a part of her left unmarred by his attack. Her chest burned as she moved and Y/N pressed a hand to the letters he’d carved into her skin, a lesson, a warning, a horrid joke she could never forget. 

L O V E

“It’s a liability,” he said, rounding off the O with the tip of the knife. He held her down, arms pinned beneath his knees, throat closing under his fist. “I warned you…” 

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)@akshi8278 @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05   

[heartworld]

the slaughterhouse

spooky season is here, my favorite time of the year!

i’ve been looking forward to this moment, especially attending halloween events and pumpkin patches.

my girlfriend and i decided to go to a scary attraction in a nearby amusement park where they create many mazes and have actors frighten you with costumes. i always get a bit jumpy in the mazes but i have soo much fun.

it was finally the last one of the night and both my girlfriend and i were ready to knock out. our feet were hurting and the wind was picking up a bit more.

“why don’t you go first, love?” i suggested to my partner, smiling and letting her lead the way. the maze replicated a slaughterhouse, even the scents it came with. there were plastic meat slabs laid everywhere, and fake blood covering the walls. a shirtless scare actor had a pig mask on and a large butcher knife, waving it around toward the guests. my girlfriend made it to the hallway to the next room but the pig-headed man blocked my pathway.

i giggled, thinking it was part of his act, trying to move around him but he stayed there. he was radiating an energy i wasn’t particularly fond of and i knew my senses were correct when he reached for a rag in his pocket and stuffed my mouth with it before carrying me out into a secret room.

i tried so hard to scream but the cloth constructed my voice. my girlfriend already moved forward from the last spot i seen her at, she won’t even realize i was gone until she finished the maze.

the actor threw me down on some beat up couch where i presume was the break room for the cast. i struggled to get out of his grip, but it was no use. his bloody hands roamed my body and as much as i was scared, i started to feel myself getting wet.

my mask kink was already triggered from the beginning of the night but i wasn’t expecting this.

soon enough, this stranger’s hands lifted up my shirt and got handfuls of my breast. i unintentionally began to moan into the rag, but i tried to resist.

after fondling me, he straddled on top of me and laughed inside his mask. he reached for the rag and tossed it to the side. i had a fearful look on my face and i think it only got worse when he lifted up his mask and i seen the face of my misogynistic ex.

“long time, no see, baby. scream all you want, no one’s gonna hear you and it’s just gonna turn me on more.” he says before unbuckling his pants.

my mind is crazed with so many thoughts, but my body knew i wanted him again. a part of me still had some moral thoughts so i began to scream for help. his mask went back on as he tugged down my short skirt. there were no panties to move and he let out a chuckle again.

“fuck, i missed this pussy so much. forget about that girlfriend of yours. you know you need this cock in your life, right, princess?”

and stupidly, i nodded.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[tilvcei]

► 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

⭢ In which: you become ghostface newest target but figure out who’s been behind it all the whole time which shocks you, you loved ethan but he was so obsessed, maybe you were his everything.

☆ | Warning(s): blood , gore , death , suggestive language

☆ | note: when I saw Jack champion as Ethan Landry? I became obsessed recently. now I have a huge obsession with his character. and you will too ;)

☆ | gender: she/her (reader)

You had love for Ethan. you really did. but when it came down to certain things you didn’t like talking about, he dropped the topic. and that’s what you appreciated about him.

But also, he was crazy about you. feral if that’s what you wanna call it. very protective — yes he has that shy demeanor but when you actually take a good look at him in this moment? you can see he isn’t that innocent. if he can kill, he can do much more.

You just saw him twist someone’s guts. why wasn’t it obvious to you before? he was part of the killings. as well as Quinn and their father. the whole family was crazy, Sam got you tangled all into this but it wasn’t her fault you agreed to this anyways.

At the moment you were standing in the middle of Tara and Sam as they were surrounded by the family of Richie. you could see the anger and rage in their eyes. you get it, they lost their brother due to sam killing him. but he was so obsessed with the movies, it was his fault. not hers.

"He was obsessed with the movies! it wasn’t like sam had a choice. he attacked her first, what was she supposed to do? not fight back in her defense?" you questioned, your arm was still bleeding from when Quinn ‘accidentally’ stabbed you.

Ethan turned to you, "you’re really going to let that bitch put that in your pretty little mind? she’s the one in the wrong. Richie did nothing wrong! nothing! And she fucking killed him without any regret. she’s just like her damn father." Tara put a hand on your shoulder but Ethan glared at her.

"Don’t. don’t you fucking touch her!" Ethan yelled, Tara pushed you behind her while staring down Ethan, “No, no you stay the fuck away from her!” she yelled back, Ethan kept glaring at her.

"You keep gettin’ in the way. but I’m gonna fix that real soon, Tara." Ethan threatened, you backed away in fear. what happened to the Ethan you once loved and knew? what happened to the shy Ethan? the dorky one?

He then looked over at you with a smile, he looked at the blood on the knife and realized it was yours. his face turned into one of concern.

"Oh, baby I’m sorry if I hurt you. it wasn’t even aimed at you, it was for Sam. but here, cause Y’know, I love you so much." Ethan said with a crazed laugh.

He licked the blood from the knife, moaning while he did so which caught you off guard. Tara looked at him like he was crazy, what the actual hell was wrong with him..?

"Run!" Sam yelled, Tara grabbed your hand and the both of you started running, you were inside the museum of all the ghostface items and things every person was killed with, you slipped but returned your footing and dashed up the stairs.

"Are you really trying to take what’s mines, Tara?" You heard Ethan say in a low voice — and it scared you, if you were honest. a shiver ran down your spine.

You kept running and leaned against the railing, which broke and caused you to nearly fall. but Tara and Sam were quick to grab you by the wrist and stop you from falling all the way down. but you were hanging and nearly almost done for.

"My hands are slipping, just let go!" you said, Tara felt tears fall from her eyes as she started sobbing, "just hang on okay? just hold our hands, it’s gonna be okay." Sam reassured.

You screamed when a hand grabbed you by the ankle, "help! get off me! someone help!" you continued to yell. Tara held your hand tightly.

She saw Ethan at the bottom with his knife in his hand, a smirk plastered on his lips as he sucked your blood off his fingers.

"You heard her. now you’re hearing me. let her go, Tara." Ethan said with a low growl, "go to hell!" Sam screamed while glaring down at him.

Then your hand slipped, "shit, (Y/n) no!" Tara screamed, you fell to the ground with a thud and groaned in pain. you hurried and crawled away, but Ethan grabbed you by the legs and dragged you back, "No, no, no!" you yelled, looking for any weapon you could find close.

He turned you around and looked down at you with a crazed smile, his eyes glossing a bit because he had you right where he wanted you.

you were all his.

"Ethan, please. please don’t kill me, please." you begged, this must’ve triggered something in him because he went stiff, a frown on his lips appearing.

He cupped your cheek, "baby..why would you think I’d hurt you? wh..what? no, never. once this is all over you can leave with me, my dad, and sister. we wouldn’t have to worry about anything, it’ll be just us. ‘kay baby?" Ethan said while placing a kiss to your cheek.

you continued to sob, you tried pushing him away but you knew nothing was going to work. you were his and only his. It’s not like you didn’t mind it but you didn’t want it this way.

"Shh, my pretty baby. it’s gonna be okay." he whispered in your ear, something sharp stung you in the neck, you realized it was a needle — wha- what? why did he..?

Your eyes felt droopy, "’ts gonna be okay baby, I promise you." then you went limp in his arms. he got you exactly where he wanted you.

in his arms and only his arms. you were so good to him, no one was ever like that to him before. you were different — completely. that’s why he loved you so so so much.

nobody could take that away from him. not even family.

Note: Part two or..? I think this is good, amazing even. I really love the character so here’s my dedication to our precious bby Ethan & jack :))

[bmtillerbabe]

Ask for requests, and requests ye shall receive. I'm always good for a nice crack request.

So, the patches on military uniforms are pretty much always connected via velcro (you can sew them on but idk how often people do), and so you can rip them off with just a little effort.

My request is: any of the boys' reactions to someone ripping their rank/insignia/flag patches off with the same energy that cats push half full glasses of water off countertops. You don't have to do this at all, it's just something I find funny ^-^

Ask, and ye shall receive, Anon! 😍

So, here is my take on the boys' reaction to seeing you rip off your insignia/patch!

PRICE :

Just stares at you after you've finished a heated argument about ranks, obeying orders, superiority, all that good shit - and you only seem to finally catch his full attention when you get a crazed look in your eye, and throw your hands up.

"Alright, alright - you know what? I'm done! I'm sick of this!" and you reach up for the insignia velcroed to your chest.

Price stands from his chair with such a force that it flies back and slams into the wall, his nostrils flaring and his face burning red.

You eye him challengingly, lips pulled into a taught frown as your fingertips grip the corner of the patch.

He flinches, like he's about to pounce on you with each little movement you make.

"Don't you dare." He growls.

But you don't wait for him to even finish before you've ripped off the patch.

....... Soap and Gaz look up from their phones in the mess hall as you race away from an angry Price who's barreling after you like a bull after a flag. (They're smart enough not to ask)

Ghost :

After a particularly difficult mission, bloody images and desperate, terror-filled screams drowning your mind - you're sitting on your bed, knees curled up to your chest, sobbing softly and pulling at your hair as if you could pull the very thoughts from your brain.

Ghost walks into the room with a can of pop in his hand, cocking his head when he notices you rocking back and forth and whimpering softly.

"Oi, you a'right, soldier?" His gruff voice asks.

He walks over to sit next to you on the edge of the bed and you just breathlessly panic, ranting and rambling on about how it's too much, you can't do it anymore, it's too hard, there's so much death, and blood, and anguish, and pain, and you should have never accepted a higher rank----

And you'd reached up to grip your insignia, ready to tear it off of you, but Ghost's hand closed over your own before you could, his eyes filled with a deep understanding and soft warmth.

"It's a'right, Luv.... We've all been right where you're at. You'll be okay."

And he pats the insignia gently back into place as you calm down.

SOAP :

"Bonnie.... I'm nae kiddin'. Put it doen.... Now."

You had a wicked grin splitting your features, Soap's decorated uniform in your hands. Silly boy shouldn't have just left it laying around where anyone could grab it....

When the Scot lunged at you around the laundry table, you let out an excited shriek and raced away from him, aiming for the doorway out.

You laughed at his yells to stop - your breath being knocked from your lungs when Soap grabbed your ankle and tackled you to the ground.

You rolled around on top of each other, both trying to keep the shirt in your grasp.

It wasn't until a sharp, high-pitched whistle sounded in the doorway that made you both stop and look up to realize Price was standing there with his arms crossed and an unamused expression on his face.

You and Soap straightened and stood immediately, but you kept the jacket in your clutches with a hidden grin.

........ Soap definitely didn't get called to the office later over a "smiley face" patch that had been placed over one of the other insignias.....

.

.

.

Hope you enjoyed anon! 🥰 Sorry I got a bit carried away with the ideas 😅 hope it's close enough to what you was looking for! ❤️

Much loves 😘

[gurokiitty]

Could you possibly do MC gaining the upper hand over Strade somehow... and then the terrifying consequences of Strade regaining the upper hand?

a/n: sure! hope you enjoy, anon :3

SHOCKER

{ strade x gn! reader }

word count: 908

warnings/tags: graphic violence and gore, stabbing, electric shock, some name-calling, cutting, wound fingering, disembowelment.

It felt different being the one in control, wielding a knife with trembling hands, your heart hammering against your ribcage. Your body bore the signs of your captivity—your torment. Scars both old and fresh marred your skin, and a shackle-like collar weighed heavy around your neck. Over the months, they had transformed you into captive prey, but tonight, the predator was on the opposite side of the blade.

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of uncertainty betraying the facade of confidence he wore like armour. His gaze filled with shock and, perhaps, a hint of fear. Yet, you couldn't afford to dwell on his reaction, not when your own heart threatened to burst from your chest.

Before he could react, before he could utter a word of warning or defiance, you lunged forward, the blade seeking purchase in the flesh of his shoulder with a sickening squelch.

His scream echoed through the basement, a primal sound that sent shivers down your spine. The sight of blood staining his shirt was both horrifying and intoxicating. Its metallic tang filled the air, thick and cloying like the taste of iron on your tongue. Strade's curses pierced the silence, a cacophony of rage and pain that drowned out the pounding of your heartbeat. As you recoiled, the weight of your actions came crashing down upon you like a tidal wave.

His fury was palpable, a storm gathering on the horizon with the blade still embedded in his skin. He shakily reached into his pocket and retrieved a remote control, aiming it toward you—toward the machinery around your neck.

And then came the shock.

It hit you like lightning, searing through your nerves with an intensity that stole your breath away and made your body crumble to the floor. The collar became a conduit for agony, the metal digging into your skin like a thousand needles. Your muscles spasmed uncontrollably, limbs jerking with a violence that felt foreign and surreal.

Numbness spread like wildfire, engulfing your senses in a shroud of icy oblivion. Your vision blurred, the world tilting on its axis as you teetered on the precipice of consciousness. As the shock continued unabated, each agonizing second stretched into eternity. You felt as if your very bones were vibrating, threatening to splinter and fracture beneath the weight of the torment.

Then, mercifully, the shock ceased, leaving behind a searing pain that pulsed in time with your racing heartbeat.

You saw him looming over you through tear-blurred eyes, his features twisted in a crazed, fervent mask of triumph. He snarled as he wrenched the knife from his shoulder, the motion swift and brutal, blood splattering like rain on the concrete before you. The blade gleamed wickedly in the dim light as he turned it over in his hands, its tip now pointed at your trembling form. He descended upon you with a predatory grace, straddling your hips and pinning you to the cold, unforgiving floor.

His weight was oppressive, crushing your hope as easily as your breath. With deliberate cruelty, he lifted your shirt, exposing your scarred flesh to the basement chill. His eyes roamed over your body, a dark hunger lurking in their depths, and he licked his lips as if savouring the fear emanating from you.

"Ah, Mein Liebling, you're too soft," Strade hummed, pressing the blade beneath your sternum. "Couldn't even stab me where it'd hurt."

You attempted an apology but your tongue lay useless in your mouth, your words garbled and senseless. He laughed, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your neck.

"You are weak, pathetic, and so... cute."

You could smell him, a potent musk accompanied by the lingering stench of alcohol that clung to him like a second skin. It was sickening, listening to the words tumble from his lips as his own blood and sweat continued to flow.

"You're soft everywhere," he breathed, plunging the knife deeper and deeper into your flesh until a pool of crimson formed beneath its cutting edge. Strade pulled the blade down to your navel, eliciting a pained groan as you gawked helplessly at your bloodied skin.

He retraced the incision, making a shallow cut through your muscles, and slipping two fingers into the newly-formed hole. He was breathing faster now, working himself into a frenzy as he probed around at your insides.

Strade was knuckle-deep in your abdomen, yet you could hardly feel a thing. All you could register was the wet, almost lewd, squelching of your anatomy as it shifted around, out of place. He shoved his hand deeper, and a foreign, burning sensation built in your gut. Four thick fingers grasped for something, but it slithered from his grasp, slick and elusive like a snake through the grass.

He grabbed again, a fistful this time, and pulled the snake-like thing out of your body. It slunk down your side and met the concrete with a moist thump. Strade grabbed once more, pulling harder.

You felt something unwinding inside.

Inside.

Your insides felt cold and empty, yet your skin was searing hot and painful.

You strained your neck to watch the scene unfold—your own body being turned inside out with each tug, joining a small heap of viscera beside you.

With one final pull, he grinned and held something red and glistening high above his head like a trophy—whatever was left of your intestine, slipping around his grasp, coated in a thick, mucousy sheen.

[wolfxplush]

draw jimmy hopkins beating max up

I wrote a Max boss fight scene you did this. /j one shot and art under cut!!

The sky was a dark, brooding gray, with a storm looming on the horizon, but Jimmy barely noticed. His breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted up the final flight of stairs, the sound of rain beginning to pelt the rooftop growing louder in his ears. The air was thick with the scent of smoke as gasoline. His fists were clenched tight, knuckles white from fury. This had gone too far.

Max was up there.

As Jimmy burst through the rooftop door, the first thing he saw was the wild blaze Max had already started—flames licking at the school’s edge, growing dangerously large in the gusting wind. Max stood at the rooftop's far edge, his back turned, a crazed grin on his face as he waved a torch high over his head.

"MAX!" Jimmy roared, his voice breaking through the cacophony of the oncoming storm.

Max turned, slowly, as though savoring the moment. His eyes glinted with malice, reflecting the flames. "Jimmy," he sneered, "you’re too late. The fire’s already started. This place is going down, and no one’s gonna stop me! Gary is going to be so proud!” A manic laugh escaped his slurred lips.

"You’re out of your mind!" Jimmy shouted, already barreling forward, fists raised. His feet pounded against the wet surface, slipping slightly with every step, but he never lost focus. He might have hated bullsworth but he’ll even HE wouldn’t take it this far. That rat Gary smith dug into the weirdo preps head.

Max laughed—a cold, biting sound. "It’s what they deserve, Jimmy! What we all deserve. This place... ruined us!" He flicked the torch, letting the flames dance dangerously close to a new corner of the roof. “Gary has the right idea! If he can’t run the school then no one can!” Spit flew out his mouth as he spoke, mixing in with the incoming raindrops that began to sprinkle down. He clicked the lighter on, watching it lick the air it’s been exposed to.

Jimmy was on him in an instant, slamming into Max’s side with the force of a battering ram. The torch clattered to the ground as Max was sent sprawling, sliding across the rain-slicked surface.

But Max was quick, too quick. He rolled to his feet, fists raised, wild eyes locked on Jimmy. "You think you can stop me, huh? You think you can play hero?! You, Hopkins have been nothing but trouble since you have got here! You have ruined everything!”

Jimmy didn’t answer—he simply charged again. This time, Max met him head-on. Their fists collided in a brutal flurry, each hit sending shockwaves through their bodies. Max's punches were wild, erratic, driven by madness. No wonder derby prevented from boxing again. Jimmy’s were sharp, precise, driven by raw fury.

For every punch Jimmy landed, Max retaliated with a vicious blow of his own. It was like fighting a wild animal. Max’s eyes were bloodshot, his breath ragged, and his grin never left his face. A sick expression of joy in his features.

Jimmy ducked a swing and drove his fist into Max's gut. Max doubled over, gasping, but he swung out blindly, catching Jimmy across the face. Jimmy stumbled back, tasting blood, but he couldn’t stop. Not now.

Max, coughing, staggered toward the edge of the roof again. "You can’t stop it, Jimmy!" he wheezed, reaching for another torch. "I’ll burn it all!"

"Like hell!" Jimmy growled, wiping blood from his mouth. He rushed Max once more, tackling him to the ground. They rolled, fists flying, until they reached the edge, the flames inches away from swallowing them both.

Jimmy twisted Max’s arm, forcing him to drop the lighter again, but Max was relentless. He kicked Jimmy off him, scrambling to his feet and diving for another canister of fuel. Just as Max was about to hurl the contents onto the fire, Jimmy tackled him from behind, slamming him hard into the ground. The canister went skittering across the roof, spilling harmlessly away from the flames.

Max screamed in rage, thrashing wildly, but Jimmy had him this time. He wrenched Max's arm behind his back, pinning him down as the rain poured harder, slowly drowning out the fires Max had started.

"Stop it, Max! It’s over!" Jimmy shouted, his voice barely audible over the storm. The rain was coming down in torrents now, drenching them both, steam rising from the dying flames.

Max groaned, his breath ragged, his face a mask of blood and bruises. "No..no..I failed I failed him..” panic shook in his tone. His pupils vibrating as his teeth clattered.

Jimmy tightened his grip, keeping Max’s arm twisted behind his back. "This isn’t the way. You don’t get to decide who pays! That freak Gary has gotten in your head. It’s over. “ Jimmy managed out through heavy breaths.

The fight drained out of Max. His body went limp under Jimmy’s weight. Blood pooling out his nose mixing into the puddle of saliva drooling out of him. “I’m…sorry…Gary…”

Max has passed out!

+$50.00

[simp2537]

SCYLLA

A/n: I’m super excited for this one. I’ve gotten really into dead boy detectives lately. I’ve also just fallen in the love with Monty and found there aren’t enough fics of him. Now this does have some sensitive topic that are in the show. Along with a few added ones. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Other then that please enjoy.

Word Count: 1.776k

Trigger Warning: Religious themes, gore, murder, violence, suicidal thoughts, alcoholism, demons, blood,  self hatred, cannibal tendencies in flashbacks, child neglect, ptsd, self neglect, imprisonment, torture, consumption of other demons,  more warnings to follow

CHAPTER ONE

It was loud in Hell. Louder than she thought it would be. After being dragged down however many years ago she’d lost all hope of ever leaving. Her father was not much help, some high lord demon he was. Couldn’t even free his own daughter for the prison of his own making. 

She could never quite drown out all the screaming. Her ears were better than that of normal humans, she could hear everything. Every soul being tormented. Every demon who laughed. There was not one thing in hell that happened that she couldn’t hear.

However as the door to her torture chamber opened slowly she did not recognize the footsteps of the ghost who quickly hid. Her eyes slowly lifted upwards, her face red and puffy of tears.

There on the ground next to her was a boy her age. With pale skin, blood dripping from his forehead, almost black hair and the most intense emerald eyes she’d ever seen. His face was covered in terror as he looked around the room.

Bodies covered every inch. Bloody mutilated bodies. Limps and guts were torn out and scattered about. The faces of horror forever laced in the corpses.

“Who are you?” Her voice came out hoarse, her last screaming fit having only been a few minutes ago.

“….Edwin Payne.” His voice was soft, maybe a bit fearful. 

She chuckled softly, pain? His last name was Payne and he was in hell. 

“I think you’re in the wrong room.” She whispered softly, leaning closer to him. He shook his head furiously, the blood in his face crippled down.

“No! I shouldn’t be here at all!” He whisper yells. The girl nodded softly as some demon crawled in front of her door. Edwin froze up, his eyes locking upon the entrance.

“Don’t worry sacrifice, most of the demons avoid this room.” She mumbled laying her head back down in her knees. He slowly turned to her, he studied her frame quickly.

“Come with me.” He whispered. She snapped her head up staring into his soul. 

“Excuse me?”

“Come with me, I’m escaping. If these demons are so afraid of you then maybe it will be better for the both of us.” She didn’t answer. 

Her gaze traveled around the carnage covered room. Her father wasn’t evening much help getting her out of here. Her own mother laid with the corpses. Maybe that wasn’t really her, maybe her soul was somewhere else.

“That doesn’t frighten you? That demons are afraid of me?” He shock his head. 

“Not if it gets us out of this place.” She nodded her head. He slowly stood up, lowering his hand for her to take. 

Then she took it.

…………………………

This was royally stupid. 

Her feet pattered against the ground as she ran away from the ghost the persuaded them. Her thighs ached as she followed after Charles. His bag bounced as Edwin ran next to him. 

This was not how she wanted to spend her Saturday. She had planned on sitting in the couch with a cup of instant ramen and watch Peter Pan. However the boys had other plans. 

And now she was running from some crazed soldier who was screaming his head off. She watched as the boys bickered between each other. Charles threw the bag to the ground going through it. 

The trio stood in a circle, as Charles pulls out an iron knife from his bag. 

“Iron knife! Give him a right smart burn if he tries anything.” Charles snapped as he raised the knife. Y/n rolled her eyes as her hands gently lit up in hues of scarlet. 

“Real smart Charles.” She mocked him as she moved her body slightly in front of Edwin.

Ignoring Y/n, Charles continued, “I say with clip the mask, destroy it, he moves into her afterlife, case closed.” 

“Bait and match gambit?” Y/n asked as her lips curled into a smirk. Charles chuckled softly as he tossed the knife into the air. 

“I’ll need Minor Arcana, volume four. It’s the sort of small, purple one.” Edwin starts. Charles loved to his bag rummaging through it extensively. 

“It contains the fire spell.” Edwin continued. Y/n’s eyes dropped slightly as she watched Charles. 

“You don’t have it in the bag, do you?” She watched as his entire arm sunk Kylo the bag. The way his face dropped as she spoke. 

“Right. Small hiccup there. I left it back at the office.” Edwin whipped around his face full of panic. Y/n glared down at her friend with his arm still in his bag. 

“Charles, you have a backpack that can hold an infinite number of things.” 

“Well I didn’t know we’d need it did I?” 

“This is why you boys let me pack the infinity bag!” The ghost howled above them as he jumped down. The trio stared at the ghost soldier as he held out his own knife. Slowly there gazes turned to Charles knife.

“Go!” With Charles’s warning the group sprinted off again. The ghost continued to chase them through London as they ran. Y/n was seriously annoyed that she hadn’t just stayed home. 

“Y/n! Could you please be helpful and use your magic!” Edwin yelled to her. She stoped her run allowing the boys to pass her. His footsteps falters as he watched his friend lower herself to the ground.

“Y/n!” Charles yelled but was ignored. Slamming her hand against the gravel, debris shot up. With scarlet hues covering the brown pieces they formed a wall, stopping the outraged ghost in his tracks. 

As Y/n turned around Edwin spotted a glass mirror. The boys ran to it as she groan in annoyance. They always forget I cannot mirror travel!

Because they don’t care!

Rolling her eyes once again at her voice she tracked after them. Edwin looked back slightly to see her still running with them. 

“I’ll meet you boys at the office!” She yelled to them. With her words boy boys disappeared through the glass. The two men holding the mirror stared at her as she ran past them. 

She continued to run not minding all the stares she received as she dashed to an alleyway. It wasn’t easy being a dead boy detective when the living can see you. Dead boy detective was still strange to say.

If anything she was just a bodyguard for the two boys when they got into trouble. Leaning down to the ground and pricking her finger she drew a circle in the air. 

Quickly the blood floated in the air swirling as made a portal to the office. The vast book covered shelves and desk being show through. 

The office I pay for.

With my wealth.

She scoffed softly at his voice. She mocked his softly repeating to herself. She quickly jumped through the portal of her own making, landing in the office rather gracefully. 

She panted softly as she brushed off any dish that might have found it way into her clothes. She wore a simple black suit with white collared shirt underneath. Black vest around her waist and her sleeves rolled up. At the back of her suit jacket Charles as sewn on a large drawing of a hydra.

As she looked around she couldn’t find the boys. They’d jumped into the mirror before her, they should’ve already been back. Before she could process another thought, Edwin’s lanky body crash into her.

Her stomach hit the ground with a thud as he lay on top of her for a few moments. He jumped off quickly pulling the crazies girl to her feet. 

Charles body crashed just to the desk, pushing the furniture. Edwin panted softly. 

“Now, before he arrives,” The sounds of Charles changing cuts off his words. Moving forwards out of the mirror the ghost clutched onto Charles throat. The boys body slams on the desk, sliding onto the floor. 

Y/n pushed the emerald eyes boy away as the soldier ghost goes to attack Charles. With a flash of red the knife that had been aimed for Charles head is thrown away.

The soldier ghost rises in the air. His body jerking around as Y/n glares sharply at him. Charles shoot’s up, grasping at his iron knife.

“Sorry, chap. That mask has a hold on you, so I’ll need to take it.” Charles mumbles as he rubs at his neck. The knife slices through the mask effortlessly and is quickly thrown to Edwin.

Blood drips from the ghosts mouth as he screams in disarray. The blood drips down onto the carpets in front of the desk. Y/n’s eyes sharpen as she turn to Edwin.

“EDWIN PAYNE! These are my nice carpets! Hurry the fuck up!” Upon her instruction Edwin beings to chant in Latin. The mask lights on fire, slowly burning. 

The soldier ghosts screams turn into a gentle whimper as his mask turns to ashes. Slowly Y/n lowers him to the ground, her eyes no longer so sharp. 

The ghost curled to the ground and slowly she reach her hand out. It gently rested on his shoulder as he whimpered in anguish.

“It’s alright mate. You win the war. Kids read about it in school boom, yeah? You’ve done brilliantly.” Charles’s words echo through Y/n’s mind.

“You’ve done brilliantly sweetling.” His words as calm as ever. His hand the combed through her bloodied hair cold as always. His eyes…. His eyes that cursed blood color. 

Shivers ran down her spine as she felt Edwin grasp into her arm. She quickly brought them outside. The boys clung to the window as she floated besides Edwin.

“Charles, Y/n that was a job well done.” Edwin told the pair.

“Yeah, pretty chuffed about it myself. Except for the part where he chocked me.”” 

“You’re welcome.” Edwin’s snickers brought a smile to both faces. The room quickly lit up in a bright blue. 

“Death.” Edwin whisper faintly. “She’s here.”

The trio looked through the sides of the window. Death stood before the old ghost speaking to him softly. 

“They will come back, come back again. As long as the red Earth rolls. He never wasted a leaf of a tree. Do you think He would squander souls?” Y/n repeat with Death softly to herself. Edwin looked over at her, his eyes softer. 

“You ever think, what if death did catch us? She’s force us to go to the afterlife and split up.” Her own eyes faltered at the thought. She couldn’t go back. Not to the place. Not to that room. Not to him.

“I will make sure that never happens.” Slowly the blue light faded away. Just as the soldier ghost and death did. 

[moronkombat]

Erm could u perhaps do a nsfw fic for havik x gn reader including sadomasochism, knife play, kinda bloody/gory n stuff like that please? Its fine if ur not comfortable with it.

- Let's Get Numb - tw: blood, gore, violence, sadomasochism

They are alone. Alone with everyone. The decay, the rot , it clings to their skin and the air is rich with iron. Both of them so painted by each other, two masterpieces crafted by expert hands. The method of execution not one with soft strokes. Never would they lay a gentle path.

A paint brush becomes a blade, sharp and stinging. The liquid to color the canvass a rich cherry that pools and pools. What is this canvass? They are.

Nails coated in the tissues and blood mark their way down a back most exposed. Further and further they drag, parting the skin that binds their flesh. A groan, a cry, a scream the pain rocks through their body and their bones rattle.

It all such a delight all such a wonderous display. Havik purrs into laugh, stained eyes admiring his work but this merely the beginning. A licentious tongue wraps around his digits and the raw and untarnished taste of crimson has his eyes rolling.

That very same tongue swipes over exposed teeth before a hand grips a chin. He looks at them then and the crazed gaze he has is reflected back at him.

Hands are upon him now, slithering and searching. A distraction. Teeth are now upon the skin of shoulder and oh how they rip and tear. Blood pools in their mouth, a special treat, and teeth press into flesh deeper and deeper.

Havik seethes through his teeth, a breath sucked in while a face contorts wicked. His hand would push the back of their head wanting those teeth to tear again and again. And so they did while sharp nails scratch at his chest.

Hips roll and buck up into them, his cock sheathed in a veil of warmth. Atop his lap his muse sits, twisting and rolling hips that are covered in bruises. His gift to them and Havik had much more to give.

A bloodied tongue laps at his wound not to soothe but to taste and gather his crimson. Wet, it moves up the length of his aching neck. Up and up until a gore covered tongue begins to swipe over teeth exposed between a mangled cutis.

There is that purr again and he laughs low and grumbled as his partner smears his own blood across his face and mouth. They to not stop there, no not even close. Their tongue pries those jaws open and blood and saliva mingle and now Havik tastes iron.

His hands grip at their hips, and purple bruises are bleached white under his pressure before nails press and rip into them. The feeling of you tightening around his length does not go unnoticed and he scratches at your bruises continuously.

It is then he feels the sharp bite on his tongue, their teeth bursting that wet and fleshy muscle and the blood pours. Drip, drip, drop it runs down his chin, his chest and oh how it burns. He grabs their hair, forcing their neck to be that like a crane and still they smirk with lips coated in dripping blood

The reflection of light is caught on the curve of a blade as he fetches it. That neck of theirs exposed and vulnerable. The chill they receive as that knife's edge so lightly traces down the length of their craned neck has eyes fluttering.

Soon those eyes are wide and their lungs are burning. The tip of the blade cutting across the curve of their jaw. Eyes so manic watch as they yell in pain and Havik wants more more and more. The blade his brought from them and then to him and it begins to carve.

It cuts and shreds the skin of chest wide and deep and Havik laughs louder and louder. His own neck now craned back as he writhes in the joyous agony the two of them create. Lips upon his teeth, hands pulling his hair and yet again their tongues meet while he continues to fuck them raw. They will continue this path. They will carve each to pieces.

'Til they don't feel nothing.

[linos-luna]

Hide and Seek 🔪

Yandere!Jimin x Fem!Reader

🎀 (Quick fic) 🎀

Warnings: yandere, blood, knife, obsessive behavior, violence, abusive behavior

🎀 ————————————————————— 🎀

“Jagiya, why are you hiding from me? You know I hate this game!”

Jimin was slowly walking around the home, listening for any sound from you.

You were in the bathroom, hiding from him. You were trying to make your way to the door but every time he came near you had to hide. You’ve tried escaping before but was never successful. This is the closest you’ve been.

“Tell me if I’m getting closer, jagiya…” Jimin said with a smile. He opened the door to the bathroom. You were against the wall behind the door, holding your breath and hoping he doesn’t look there.

“Hm… I thought I heard you…” he shrugged as he looked around the tub and sink, somehow missing you. Jimin walked back out and you were able to relax for a moment.

“Jagiya I hate this game!” He yelled out while going to the kitchen. “If you come out now, you’re punishment will be less severe!”

You knew this was a lie. As soon as he left the room you made your way to the door but he was coming back and you quickly hid in the closet.

“Y/n, please come back!” Jimin came back out with a kitchen knife. He was getting really annoyed but also desperate. “I’m not going to hurt you! I need you! I need my baby here with me!”

You haven’t heard him cry out like that before and it stunned you. It was hard to tell if it was genuine desperation or a trick… or both.

“Y/n! Y/n!!”

It sounded like he was crying, making you feel bad. But he wasn’t crying. He was faking it.

“Y/n!!” Jimin cried out again while pushing over a dining chair. “Y/n!” He started throwing a tantrum, Shoving items off shelves and breaking picture frames around the living room. He slashed into the couch and completely tore up the place up. In the end, he stabbed the knife into the table and grunted. He stomped away to the bedroom, giving you time to flee.

You quickly made your move to the door and hopped over the knocked over chair.

Before you could reach the door, you were suddenly yanked backwards by the back of your shirt. You fell backwards and hit your head on the side of a table.

“There you are, Jagiya!”

You moaned in pain as you laid there holding your hand to your head.

“I hate when you play hide and seek…” Jimin chuckled, grabbing the knife that he stabbed into the table.

You tried getting up but your head was throbbing and you were dizzy. You didn’t even pay attention to your demented boyfriend and tried crawling away. There was blood on your hand, your head must be bleeding somewhere.

“Pathetic…” Jimin laughed and rolled you on your back with his foot, then put his foot on your chest.

Tears were coming down the sides of your cheeks as you at him.

He crouched down over you and tilted his head while rubbing your cheek, noticing the blood coming from your head.

“Jagiya… I hate when you make me do this…” he said this with a dramatic sigh. “But I can’t have you always running from me like this…”

Jimin moved down to your right leg and held onto it tight while grazing the sharp knife over your skin.

“N-no! Jimin please no!” You were panicking now, knowing exactly what he was going to do.

“Lucky for you, I did some research… so I don’t accidentally kill you.” Jimin chuckled and suddenly twisted your ankle.

You screamed in pain and tried grabbing at him to no avail.

“Well, looks like you can’t go anywhere, darling.” Jimin tapped your nose and smiled.

You were holding in your cries from your ankle pain when he slashed your leg, just under your knee.

You tried grabbing at the knife and took it by the blade but holding onto it made it cut threw your hand and bleed more.

Jimin was surprised by your strength and stubbornness but he was still able to get the upper hand. With that crazed smile on his face, he threw it to the side and hovered over you.

“You know I love you? I really do.” He said, leaning close. “This is why I keep you here. You’re mine. Stop resisting it, jagiya.”

You were just laying there, noticing that some blood from your leg was dripping onto the floor.

“J-Jimin…”

“Yes?”

“M-my leg…” you said weakly, pointing towards the bleeding. After hitting your head and losing blood, you were close to passing out.

“I know, jagiya.” Jimin said as he got up. “I’ll clean it up…”’

He grabbed you by the arms and lifted you. Of course any weight on your ankle was painful and you found yourself leaning on him. He practically dragged you to the bedroom and laid you down.

He soon bandaged up your hand and legs then put a brace on your ankle. His crazed demeanor suddenly turning soft. To you, it was unsettling; how could someone switch up so fast?

After finishing, he grabbed an ice pack for your head he laid next to you while holding onto your waist.

“Promise you won’t try and leave me again…”

————————————————————————

(Pt. 2)

(It should go without saying that this is a work of fiction and not how these people are irl)

[grimmkitty84]

Ok, this is a fair warning that what follows is brutal if you are a Stolitz fan. Rest assured, so am I, but you can blame my sleep addled brain for this. There is also a slightly different thought I originally had for this that was mostly the same, but a bit more hopeful, and I may still pursue it if there is any interest in this. Also, note that this is very loosely based on the latest video trailer for the last of Season 2. Specifically, the scene where Blitzø is defending Stolas in the snow battle. Here it goes. I also might edit it a bit. This was VERY rough seeing as I was just attempting to jot down the concept. Apologies, I will definitely be updating this at some point to clean it up.

Scene: Stolas and Andrealphus are fighting in the scene where Blitzø is defending him.

They split as Stolas grows angered enough to challenge Andrealphus, leaving Blitzø behind him.

A tense battle between the two Goetia builds to a climax.

Suddenly, as Stolas had lost focus on all but the fight, and a fatal blow is about to be dealt, a soft impact creates a deafening silence.

"Ugh, Stol...s...?" is all Stolas can hear as he turns toward the sound, horror stricken by it.

Blitzø's shocked expression meets his as they both begin to look down at Blitzø's chest to see that a blade was protruding from it. Not just any blade, a blessed weapon.

The resounding scream froze all occupants on the battlefield. Before Andrealphus could react at all, Stolas had rounded on him, fixing him with a petrifying stare and leaving him immobile as he flung himself in the direction of his beloved.

In the eternity that it felt like it had already been since noticing what had transpired, a figure stood behind Blitzø, elegant and all too familiar, and it began to laugh.

Stella stood behind Blitzø with a hand still gripping the blade, blood on her fingers, and the hideous, crazed guffaw she let loose was chilling in its malice.

Stolas had murderous intent locked upon her as he used all of his demonic strength to hurtle himself toward her. He fixed her with the same stare he'd leveled at her brother. She smiled at him wickedly before being paralyzed, knowing that she had still won despite losing against his powers. He sank to his knees once she was neutralized as a threat directly in front of Blitzø, who was still standing in shock. He looked down at the blade and back up at Stolas.

"I...I got sloppy," he sputtered. "Hrk...!" A mouthful of blood gurgled forth from his lips. His eyes widened and he was trying to find the words that he desperately needed to say, but found them dying on his lips as looked back into Stolas' grief-stricken face.

"Oh, oh no no no!!! Blitzø!!! Dearest...!!!" he all but screamed in abject panic.

"What do I do?" Stolas found his voice fluctuating from a scream to barely a whisper.

Stolas, consumed by his spiraling thoughts, stilled for an instant as a gentle hand caressed his cheek.

He looked stunned for a moment as he looked down to see Blitzø's face, a smile fading from his lips as his eyes began to glaze, and he said, "I'm sorry... I lo..."

The hand against his skin began to drop, and so did the frail body it belonged to.

Blitzø's form crumpled on the snow at Stolas' feet, and his mind shattered. There were no other witnesses to the blood curdling scream that filled the silence of the frozen expanse. And if the text wasn't enough, this is what my brain pictured before I actually started typing...Trust me, this hurts me more than it hurts you. It's definitely a WIP...

[tgrailwar]

Tumblr Holy Grail War, Another End: Night 1 (ALL SERVANTS)

Team Foreigner got Van Gogh's composure to 0! Something is happening!

-

Laughter.

Echoing laugher. Triumphant laughter. The laughter of a Servant who had lost everything. The laughter of a Servant who had gained everything.

Van Gogh. A patchwork Servant from beyond the void. Laughed.

VAN GOGH: "Ah... my deception ends here. Look upon 'Van Gogh'... the false Servant named Van Gogh... isn't it horrible? Isn't it beautiful? Ahaha... AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A pulse emanating from the Servant shattered the bounds of the digital landscape that had been called 'reality'. This was the power of the Foreigner-class. The true power of the Foreigner-class, when deprived of the chains of 'logic' that bound it.

Six other Servants were hit by the pulse, the world around them collapsing, throwing them into hell. Havoc overwhelming. Chaos overflowing. A wave of utter madness, grabbing the minds of the enemy Servants and rending them asunder.

First, the Assassin.

Assassin: "...Where the hell am I... what the hell is that?!"

The Assassin drew his sword, uncharacteristic fear filling his mind and body. A shadow formed, vaguely in the shape of a Servant, unsettlingly enough. It lunged forward, as he stepped back, trying to defend himself as more shadows appeared.

Shadows from his peripheral, shadows that he couldn't see but hear, shadows that he couldn't hear but see.

Shadows that weren't real.

Shadows that were far too real.

Then, the Rider.

Rider: "Back off! Get away from me!"

He yelled, trying to add as much authority as he could as the false illusions patched together by real madness inched closer.

Archer: "...You're not real! You're an illusion, like Caster's Noble Phantasm!"

He yelled, as he tried to lie to himself, fingers rending at the stark white of his clothing, causing it to dye red. His own fingertips rent asunder as the skin on them began to wear down and redden as he scratched and screamed at nothing.

Saber: "Come at me! I'll cut you to pieces!"

She yelled, her sword swiping forward. It drew blood, before she screamed, clutching at her own shoulder as it bled profusely as it was struck in an identical spot.

Lancer: "Heh. You think you're cute, huh? We'll see how cute you think you are when this spear goes right through you!"

...An alliance, formerly airtight, splintered in seconds by the maddened wave of the unleashed Foreigner. Their identities began to crumble, as they engaged in bloody warfare.

Only two Servants stood in the wave unaffected. Perhaps both of them had already reached the crux of their madness to begin with, or perhaps they had already witnessed hell, and so this void was nothing but a reprieve.

Tortured Youth: "...So this is what you can do, Foreigner? I hope you're not plannin' on killin' me like the others?"

Patchwork Servant: "Ehehehe! Play with me, Avenger! Spin with me! Dance with me! Sing with me! Paint with me! Create with me! Don't mind the pain! Thrash and scream! Let's kill each other, and use our blood to repaint the world!"

Tortured Youth: "...Thought so. And here I wasted that mana boosting you up. Well, that's just my luck. Whatever, this little game sounds like fun either way. Let's play, Foreigner!"

EVENT: [ VOID SPACE ARMAGEDDON ]

Reality itself began to unravel, already thin threads snapping apart under the pressure of the Foreigner-class Servant!

Team Foreigner got Van Gogh's composure to 0! Team Foreigner used 'Wave of Madness'! With Van Gogh's composure at 0, she temporarily gains access to all of her skills until the battle ends!

Alliances are temporarily severed within Void Space! It's utter chaos! This is a battle for survival!

If Van Gogh wins first place, she'll inflict 2 wounds on every Servant!

If Van Gogh doesn't get first, then any Servant that scores under Van Gogh will sustain 1 wound!

Any non-Foreigner-class Servant that ends up in last place will sustain 3 wounds and be destroyed instantly!

Any non-Foreigner-class Servant that ends up above Van Gogh will be safe!

If Van Gogh gets last place, she'll sustain 3 wounds, but will lash out and inflict 1 wound on every Servant! if she gets anything other than 1st, she'll simply sustain 1 wound!

Skills such as 'Battle Continuation' or 'Independent Action' are nullified! Servants who perish in Void Space are gone!

Van Gogh's 'Wave of Madness' gives every other Servant a -10% demerit! …Angra Mainyu's been spared from the demerit?!

Angra Mainyu gave Van Gogh a +5% boost!

Musashi and Arjuna have been cursed by 'Soul of the Water Channels'! They have a -3% demerit for this round! This will stack with the current application of 'Soul of the Water Channels', meaning Musashi and Arjuna have -6%, and the others have -3%!

Final Score Augmentations:

Van Gogh: +41% Angra Mainyu: -40% Miyamoto Musashi: -29% Mandricardo: -36% Okada Izou: -36% Cu Chulainn: -21% Arjuna: -39%

Active Servant Skills and Current Statuses:

Van Gogh (Foreigner):

Het Gele Huis (A+) - When winning first place in a Free-for-All, inflict 2 wounds on the bottom Servant, rather than just one. If engaged in a one-on-one, inflict 2 wounds instead of one upon victory. Additionally, reduce Servant bonuses by 10%, and if the gap between scores is greater than 35% when winning, recover from a 'wound'.

Soul of the Water Channels (EX) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain a +10% boost, and inflict a persistent 3% demerit on enemy Servants for this round and the next. When fighting one-on-one, gain a +5% boost, and inflict a -2% demerit to them for this round and the next.

Void Space Fine Arts (B+) - If receiving a demerit from enemies larger than 10%, convert it into a +10% boost. Gain a +5% boost, and add another +3% if going against a Servant who has been cursed by the demerit from 'Soul of the Water Channels'. Gain the ability to sustain one more wound than normal.

Existence Outside the Domain (A) - Gain an immunity from demerits, and also reduce enemy Servant boosts by 5%.

Insanity (C) - Gain a +5% boost.

Item Construction (B-) - Lower the victory gap for the 'recovery effect' of "Het Gule Huis" from 35% to 25%.

Divinity (B+) - Lower enemy boosts by -5%, and increase own buffs by 3%.

Curse of Sunflower (A) - When on her final wound, gain a +7% boost.

Van Gogh has [2/7] wounds!

Angra Mainyu (Avenger)

Zarich: Right Fang Grinder (C) - Reduce enemy Servant boosts by -3%.

Tawrich: Left Fang Grinder (C) - Gain a +3% attack boost.

Annihilation Wish (A) - When fully healed, gain a -20% demerit to his final score. With one wound, the demerit is reduced to -10%. With two wounds, the demerit is changed to a +20% boost.

Grail Curse, All The World's Evils (EX) - When part of a battle that results in a Servant dying, absorb a part of their essence. Take a random one of their combat skills for Avenger's own use and recover one Command Spell. Those are the only effects. ...Probably.

Angra Mainyu is uninjured!

Miyamoto Musashi (Saber)

Heavenly Demonic Thundering Eye (EX) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain +10% to your final score, and reduce their scores by -5%. If fighting a Servant one-on-one, if the gap between scores is above 20%, inflict 2 wounds.

Battle Continuation (EX) - If she loses a confrontation while on her final wound, if there's only a 10% difference between the scores of her and her opponent (non-allied Servant), she can slip out unscathed.

Musashi is on her last wound! 'Battle Continuation EX' is nullified within Void Space!

Mandricardo (Rider)

Brigliadoro's Neigh (A) - Increases the Rider-class trait to +5% rather than +3% in free-for-all brawls.

Armor of the Nine Worthies (A) - When attacked, reduces the amount of the Servant's final combat poll result by 10%.

Mandricardo has [1/3] wounds!

Okada Izou (Assassin)

Man-Slayer (A) - When fighting a Servant that possesses a wound, gain a +3% boost. When fighting a Servant that possesses 2 wounds, gain +5% instead.

Izou has [1/3] wounds!

Cu Chulainn (Lancer)

Rune Magecraft (B) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain a +5% to combat score results. Additionally, any skills that reduce scores against Lancer will have their effectiveness reduced by 1%.

Battle Continuation (A) - Is able to take 4 'wounds' instead of the normal 3. On his last ‘wound’, gain a permanent +5% boost to final combat poll results.

Protection from Arrows (B) - When going against an Archer, Caster or Assassin-class Servant, gain a +5% to final combat poll results, and reduce their results by 5% as well.

Cu Chulainn has [2/4] wounds!

Arjuna (Archer)

Hero of the Endowed (A) - If fighting an enemy Servant, and the difference between scores is within 3%, take the win.

Mana Burst (Flame) (A) - Gain a +8% boost to combat poll results when attacked during 'playing defensively', rather than +3%. When not ‘playing defensively’, gains a 5% boost to final combat poll results instead.

Independent Action (A) - After receiving his third 'wound', he has one more round to attempt to attack before fading away. (Cannot be healed during this period via Command Spell).

Arjuna is on his final wound! Independent Action is nullified by Void Space!

[voilate]

Countdown

Pairings: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: Y/N Stark allowed Quentin Beck to fill the hole that her father left following his devastating death. As the countdown ticks she is forced to either betray her boyfriend, Peter Parker, or her dead dad.

Word Count: 2254

⚠️: Kidnapping, Violence, Blood, Stress

My eyes begin fluttering open at the sound of machines clanking.

“Peter?” I drowsily groan as my vision unblurs. The room is dark and I can barely make out a few shadows that decorate my sight. I take notice of the restraints that tightly grip my stomach, arms, and legs, keeping me glued upright to a cold metal chair.

“Peter!” I gasp, suddenly regaining consciousness. I aggressively flail back and fourth in attempts to rip away from the shackles holding me in place. They grip me so tightly I can hardly begin to struggle before being met with a pressing pain.

“Peter!” The metal against my stomach digs deeply into my skin, making it hard to breathe.

The last thing I remember is walking in on Peter fighting Mr Beck. I didn’t know why they were fighting or what was happening, and had no time to figure it out before..

Suddenly I feel the agonizing pain of a pounding headache spewing through my skull as I recall a drone flying into me. I can’t remember much past that. Distant calls for help, faint screams of my name, and then waking up here are the only helpful details I can pull to the front of my mind.

I look around, desperately trying to adjust my eyes to the unlit room. I’m assuming Peter isn’t here, and i’m hoping I’m alone, which just leaves me to my thoughts.

After my dad passed, Mr Beck was so quick to step in as a parental figure, for both Peter and I. I’ve grown so attached to him so quickly, I can’t begin to imagine what could’ve sparked an argument between my two closet companions.

I close my eyes to help sort my thoughts, and tame the migraine that’s only grown larger from trying to focus in the dark.

Maybe Peter tried to take back the glasses he gifted to Mr Beck. I can faintly remember the details of him telling me he was starting to regret his decision. Everything he so briefly mentioned to me about the situation is a blur in the mess of my current state of mind.

I told him that I trusted Mr Beck, and that my dad would have too, but he was so frantic. I don’t know why I brushed him off so quickly.

I hear the clatter of a light object falling onto the ground, which startles my eyes back open.

“Am I alone?” I mutter lowly after an eerily pregnant pause.

I don’t know if I was expecting a response or not, but a shadowed figure slowly appearing from the dark, creeping into the low light that shines from a far away lamp, I can confidently say I was not prepared for.

“Hello?” I call, awaiting a response, “Peter?”

“He’s not here.” The voice grumbles. “He ran like a coward.”

The man whose voice I’m quite familiar with, steps forward, allowing the light to ever so slightly illuminate his facial features.

“Mr Beck?” I question, “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” He echoes, stifling a laugh, “What’s going on, is Peter betrayed me. And left you here to die.”

“What do you-“

“Just shut up!” He orders, and I slam my mouth shut. He quickly kneels on the ground in front of me, taking my shackled hands and looking into the depths of my eyes with intent.

He seems manic. Like he’s actually losing his mind. His eyes bulge in a way that screams danger. If I wasn’t restrained I would pull back, run away from his crazed state and find Peter, but for now I have to tough it out.

“I need your help.” He utters. “I need the code to your dad’s vault. The one on the 29th floor of Stark Industries.”

I bite my lip, confused as to what the hell is going on.

“I know he put his most valued things on that floor because it was a random number,” He continues, “Nobody would think to check any floors besides the top and the bottom. With 29 being the date of your birthday, it was a pretty simple code to crack.”

He pulls away, shaking his head after being met with my thoughtless eyes.

I know what he’s talking about. I know what secrets lie behind that vault, and I now realize what’s going on.

For years my dad warned me of all the enemies who would be out to get him. He told me stories of encounters from the past and predicted things that would happen in the future. My dad was no idiot, but it turns out I am. I curse myself for not seeing the signs sooner. The signs that Peter definitely caught onto, and literally spelled out for me. I don’t know why Mr Beck is doing this, and I don’t know how I fell for his lies, but I’ve been professionally trained by Iron Man for a situation like this.

Act dumb.

If I don’t know what he’s talking about, which would be highly plausible in a situation such as this one, there’s literally nothing he can try and force out of me.

Playing clueless is how I go home without a bruise on my body, and it’s the easiest game to play.

“Mr Beck,” I sigh, allowing my voice to break, “I don’t know what you’re-“

“Oh, save it.” He groans. “Did you really think I expected the daughter of stubborn ass Tony Stark to give in immediately?”

I stare at him blankly.

“No. I didn’t. I played the long game. I grew close with you and your boyfriend, stepping in at perfectly timed moments, waiting months, trying to work anything out of either of you, but to no avail, “He looks up as if recalling a memory, “and now we’re here. Tears begin to form in my eyes, and I pray they don’t fall. I trusted Mr Beck. I confided in him and let him fill the hole that my fathers death left behind just for his own selfish gain. “Do you really think, after months of planning, and even more months of pretending to give any shits about you and Peter, that I would throw it all away in an impulsive heat?” He chuckles. “Everything has been thoroughly thought out to the bone. So I ask you again,” I hear the clink of a knife being pulled from his belt. “What’s the code?”

I don’t look at his dagger. If I do, he’ll sense that i’m contemplating wether or not to tell him. But I don’t know anything, so there’s nothing to decide upon. I stare into his eyes, my vision blurred by my glossed pupils.

“I don’t know anything.”

Slowly, he lifts the tool to my face, pressing it against me cheek.

Part of me doesn’t believe he’ll actually do it. Like he somehow really does care for me. As if he’s being driven by a filthy greed that almost everyone has hidden deep down.

That was my first mistake.

He swiftly slashes across my cheek, leaving a stinging sensation and the trickling feeling of gushing blood.

“I know you think this will all work out. Like if you don’t tell me anything you’ll walk out of here alive, but you’re wrong. If you really have nothing to tell me, you no longer serve me any purpose, therefore I can kill you.”

Exasperating a sigh, I close my mouth stubbornly to symbolize the lack of information I’m willing to give, and look to the floor, which results in a quick slice of the knife.

I wince, trying not to think about the blood slipping down my neck and onto the tight lavender dress Peter had picked out for our date night.

“What’s the code to the vault?” He repeats.

“I don’t know.”

He grabs the collar of my dress, slowly dragging his knife all the way down to my thighs, leaving my body exposed and a long red liquid spewing where his knife opened my dress.

He looks up at me, clearly searching for a reaction that I don’t gift him. He angrily wraps his legs around my thighs, taking a seat on my lap. At an antagonizing pace, he begins dragging his knife from my eyebrow all the way down my nose and to my cheek.

Then down my arm repeatedly, as if solely in spite of me.

“Someone will come for me.” I spit the blood that had trickled onto my lips and into my mouth onto his already blood stained shirt. “Peter will find me.”

He chuckles, slowly rising to his feet and walking to a nearby table. “He left you.”

The tears that stream down my face and fall into my lap aren’t for the pain that he causes me, but for the memory of our relationship. The guilt that I feel after letting him replace my wonderful father. Dad would never stand by and let this happen, and I’m not going to either.

He fidgets with a few tools on the table before settling for a high tech remote. I hear the sound of a button being clicked before a projector lowers from the ceiling.

I stubbornly lift my sunken gaze to see what the screen is for. It goes static for few seconds, before flickering to a countdown screen.

“2 minutes and 30 seconds remaining.” A monotone voice reads.

“You see that?” He questions, “I know you’d do anything to protect the people you care about, including endure hours of torture. That part was just for my enjoyment.”

He motions to my cloth less body.

The screen shines brightly, illuminating the wide, cocky smile plastered on Mr Becks face, “If you fail to tell me what I want to know about your dads safe before the timer goes off, a video will broadcasts across every public television screen in new york city.” He pauses as if trying to build suspense. “A broadcast that will expose Spider-man’s identity.”

For a split second, my face falls, and his smile brightens.

“I-“ I stammer, looking at the screen in shock.

Is he bluffing? He has to be. But his face reads otherwise. He proudly stares up at the screen, almost as if he hopes I don’t give in so that his genius, perfectly executed plan can come to life.

“Two Minutes remaining.” The voice reads.

I think about Peter. My boyfriend. My best friend. I know Mr Beck is lying, and that Peter didn’t really leave me here, but Tony was my dad.

I close my eyes in remembrance of what I’ve lost. How my dad spent those years trying to bring Peter back, and got himself killed in the process. How I lost him long before he was really gone. All for Peter.

“What would he do?” I foolishly ask myself.

He wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. He would’ve caught on to Mr Beck the second he walked into the picture. This is all my fault, and Peter shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes. He would save Peter.

“30 seconds remaining.”

I open my eyes and watch the screen, watch the seconds slowly inch down. A tear escapes my eye, and I don’t bother hiding It’s clear i’m upset, my facade has fallen.

He slowly inches towards me, placing his hand ‘comfortingly’ on my face and using his thumb to wipe away my tears. “What’s it gonna be?”

My eyes are filled with furry, though my voice doesn’t reflect it as I calmly reply. “I hate you so fucking much.”

“I knew you’d come around!” He smiles, walking to the other side of the pitch black room. I see a number panel light up, as he looks to me expectantly.

The timer continues to rush down, now reading 18 seconds.

“0212912001” I recite quickly through clenched teeth.

I faintly hear the clicking of him inputting some numbers.

“Your birthday?”

“My birthday.” I mumble, allowing a tear to roll down my cheek.

Beep Beep

The machine confirms, illuminating a green light as he turns back to me in astonishment.

“Didn’t think i’d tell the truth?” I coldly stare at the timer, as my tears continue to fall.

“No.” He says shortly, rushing to see the projector, “I honestly didn’t think you’d be so weak.” He says it like a passing thought. As though he planned to say it in confidence but was too worried about something else that was going on.

“Six.” The tedious voice reminds.

“Giving up your fathers most important life changing inventions?”

“Five.”

“To protect your boyfriend?”

“Four.”

He laughs, shaking his head. His voice again laced in conceded confidence “Pathetic.”

“Three.”

“Turn it off!” I cry, trying to break free of the restraints that hold me.

“Two.”

“It’s scheduled to upload. The countdown isn’t what controls when. I could never have stopped it.”

“One.”

As if on command, the screen changes to a video of a bloodied Mr Beck, presumably immediately after his fight with Peter. I quickly send him a glance and notice he’s wearing the same outfit as in the broadcast.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this

alive-“ I hear clanking and fighting in the near distance behind the camera, “Peter Parker is Spider-man.” He pants,

Peter is then brought into frame. He’s in his all too familiar suit, but it’s torn, bloodied, and his mask is nowhere in sight .

“No.” I mumble.

“And if you’re seeing this… he’s killed me.”

The screen goes dark and my heart plummets.

[n3onstarss]

OMG THERES NOBODY TALKING ABOUT LYLA OUGH IM FIXING THIS RIGHT NOW

So, here's Lyla x Spider-Woman reader! She may be OOC, but I'm using what I've analyzed from what I've seen (haven't seen the movie, but it's all been spoiled so it's whatever lol)

Blood, injury and panicking are all present, alongside some oblivious crushing on both sides :)

•••

Lyla knew how dangerous it was to be a Spider-Person. After all, she had been created for the sole purpose of helping one of said spider people.

But Miguel was tough. I mean, all spider people are, but he had trained to be Spider-Man. He hadn't been bitten, he hadn't been thrown into this like the rest of the spider people, or at least as far as Lyla knew.

So when she was scanning her screens and got a notification about a fight on Earth-921, she hurried to check in. The notification hadn't said who needed backup, only having a voice message attached, but it was requested.

She knew immediately who's dimension it was, and she knew how stubborn you were. You wouldn't call for backup unless you really fucking needed it and urgently

Oh. My. God if shes dead I'm going to kill her! The thought crossed her mind briefly, and only amplified Lyla's panic. The thought of being the first to respond, only to find you dead? terrified her.

---

My webs were launching and pulling me almost faster than I could keep up, attaching to surrounding buildings and sending me swinging in tight circles and loops around the villain I was battling.

"Too fast for ya, scales?" I teased as I let myself slide under the villains tail like an Indiana Jones movie. My version of The Lizard was more gator like, reminding me of Leatherhead in the TMNT comics I'd seen. And the cherry on top, he was pissed the fuck off. a low rumbling growl emitted from the gator as he span to keep up, trying to find a window of attack, a moment of weakness.

I launched myself as high as I could go when his back was turned, slingshotting myself off two tall apartment complexes, hollering all the way and laughing like a crazed woman. Staring up at the sun, I thought I could touch the clouds like this. The adrenaline rush was amazing, it was part of the reason I kept doing this! I turned and let myself free fall carelessly for a moment before resuming my circling attack pattern.

It only lasted a moment longer before my head snapped to the side when I thought I saw a civilian, a child, standing just inside a convenience store. Without really thinking my webs adjusted my path towards the child. I had no game plan, no idea what I was doing, but I'd work it out, I always did.

But I forgot the most important rule, never turn your back to a villain.

A heavy weight slammed itself into my back, winding me. Sharp obsidian claws wrapping around my shoulders and throwing me backwards. As i hit the ground concrete tore open my suit and back as I tumbled head over heels, and not in the fun way, along the road. Skipping like a pebble and leaving cracks and torn up asphalt in my wake.

I couldn't catch my breath, having been effectively winded again by the final impact, but I forced myself to me feet. I was hunched and swaying side to side when I called for backup, pressing the panic button and leaving a message as instructed as I thwiped into the skies again one handed.

"Heyyy, it's me," I held the watch near my face as i moved, trying to keep the audio undistorted, "Uhhhh I don't know how to explain this but The Lizard got into super crack or something methinks and he is PISSED. I could really use some backup right now!" I cut off with a scream as he swiped at me again, lodging a claw in my calf that i kicked free with my other foot. I hissed in pain and my voice cracked as I spoke again, "Yeah, definitely need backup haha! anyways, civilians in the area, angry croc, destroyed property, y'know the gist. Thankssss!"

I continued my streak of circling, attacking, hissing at a injury i hadn't noticed, and repeating until I ran out of juice. My arms were exhausted and I was nearly out of web fluid. I used some of the last to (finally!) seal the wound on my calf. The Lizard turned to face me now, face to face on the ground, or as face to face as you can get to a 8 foot or taller gator.

"Pick on someone your own size!" I quipped as he threw the first punch. "Or don't." I muttered under my breath, pissed off at the situation and myself for letting it get to the point I needed backup.

The Lizard and I circled each other, fists raised and growling at each other. I faked him out a few times to lighten the mood and provoke him, but he didn't react.

After a minute or so more a golden light and figure appeared on my watch, and The Lizard took that time to charge.

"WHAT are you DOING??" I asked slash yelled as I dove under the villain, dropping to the ground to avoid being grabbed.

"Backing you up! You did call for backup, didn't you?" Lyla spoke, voice full of worry and yet smug. She leaned around where the watch and therefore her were held at shoulder height and her eyes widened a little as The Lizard began to turn towards us again.

"Ha! got me there!" The villains footsteps soon the ground as he ran, and my spidey-sense was going off like crazy, but I didn't move. "Did you alert anybody else? cause despite how much I love your company," I dodged under a punch and spun to kick The Lizard in the gut, sending him flying, "There are civilians in the area."

Lyla scoffed, striking one of her signature poses before speaking again, "Of course I alerted someone! I sent out a general notif, Noir said he's on his way and so did Peni."

Relief flooded my body for a mere moment before I launched into a backflip to dodge The Lizard. I felt like a bullfighter. An out-of-web-fluid bullfighter.

"Thank you Lyla, what ever would I do without you?" My tone was teasing, but my words were sincere.

"Die, probably." Lyla didn't miss a beat, she never did.

"That's for sure!" I got ready to run up a wall as The Lizard approached, but my leg wound started to open up again and i stumbled.

"What is that?!"

I was a little too busy dodging fists and trying not to inhale a shit tone of dust from a villain trying to trample or punch me currently to respond in full.

"Oh. Got cocky, got clawed, the works." I don't know why I was trying to appear nonchalant about something that was hindering. You don't need to look cool in front of Lyla, we've been coworkers since You were 16! that's 6 years!! but now you wanna act cool? God you're stupid!

A stray punch missed us by an inch, and Lyla looked worriedly at where the arm had been.

"Hey, you good?" I was worried that Lyla was worried. She was always so unbothered! It was worrying to see her scared

"If course! Why wouldn't I be?" She shrunk away from the next kick too. "I just think we should, IIIIII dunno.. leave?" Her hands were gesturing wildly as she spoke. A jaw snapped itself closed way too close to us for my liking.

"Hey dickhead!! we're trying to have a conversation here!" I yelled before biting into the closest limb to us, a leg.

"old ohn ight!" I tried to say as The Lizard reared up, shaking his leg violently. Lyla and I clung on comically as his leg flailed, her onto the watch and me onto his leg.

A flash of gold and red light caught the edge of my vision, and all three of us kept an eye on the portal. The Lizard halted his flailing for a moment, and I took the chance to readjust and sink my teeth in deeper. Lyla popped out of existence from my watch and i could see a glimpse of gold above Noir's wrist and he ran through the portal.

---

God this woman is a fucking idiot! First she's out of web fluid, then she's injured, and NOW she's clinging to a villains leg by the teeth!!

The light and colors indicative of a portal alerted me to backup arriving after what felt like eternity, but was only around 5 minutes when I checked the time. I glitched myself out of her watch and into Noir's.

"Heyy! so good to finally see you!" Sass drips like venom to the point even I can hear it. "So! rundown!" I started as Noir began his approach, "Civilians nearby, she's out of web fluid and her leg is cut open. Imma pop back over there and check on Her you got this, right? Cool, see ya!" I cut out before he can even speak.

---

Lyla popped back up on my watch, clinging onto the edge again even though she didn't need to.

"So! backup is here, and it's time for youuuu," she leaned over and poked the tip of my nose, causing me to scrunch it, "to retreat! You'll bleed put or lose a tooth like this," She gave up on hanging on, sitting with her leg crossed and inspecting her nail, rolling her head towards me to emphasize her point. "y'know?"

I narrowed my eyes at her jokingly before attempting a smile and nod and sinking my teeth in deeper. On the next kick I detached myself and let myself go flying, attempting a cool posed landing and failing when my bleeding leg buckled and gave out momentarily.

"dammit." i mumbled as I stood up fully and watched as Noir, and now Peni, who just ran past me, circled and tied up The Lizard. Lyla disappeared again as I turned to make a new portal to HQ.

---

"Hey hi me again! So, we're outta here because she need medical treatment," I relayed to Peni, pointing my thumb over my shoulder, "Good luck, aim for the legs cause shes a biter, have fun!" I glitched out again, leaving a shocked and confused Peni behind.

---

Lyla reappeared as I stepped through the portal, sitting on my shoulder in her pocket-sized version now that we were in her domain of HQ.

"Soooooo what happened again?" She spoke up. I could tell she wanted to know why I was struggling, so I explained as she leaned against my head on the way to the medbay.

I had to hobble with my right hand on the wall for support as we went, and in turn we received plenty of weird stares from any passing spider-people. I only caught it once in my peripheral, but Lyla flipped a group off.

We continued our journey, and I got lost in my thoughts. I have no idea what I would do without Lyla.

•••

sorry it's short! i tried my best sorry if it's OOC! from the clips I saw shes sassy and smug (Miguel backup scene) but also panics sometimes (Margo and her scene and also tracking the Spot) so i tried to incorporate that!! please send requests!