#heavy on the violence

[shewhoseeksfreedom]

“Mysticism is about the possibility of ecstatic life. For the last couple of centuries, with obvious exceptions like Nietzsche and, more recently, Georges Bataille, philosophy has more or less successfully inoculated itself against the kind of experiences of ecstasy we find in the mystics. It is time to reintroduce the virus.

Ecstasy is what it feels like to be alive when we push away the sadness that clings to us. And sadness does cling to us. Reality presses in on us from all sides with a relentless force, a violence, which drains our energy and dissipates our capacity for belief and for joy. The world deafens us with its noise; our eyes sting from the ever-enlarging incoherence of information and disinformation and the constant presence of war. We all feel, we all live, within the poverty of contemporary experience. This is a leaden time, a heavy time, a time of dearth. As a result, we feel miserable, anxious, wretched, bored.”

-Simon Critchley from “Mysticism”

[electrozeistyking]

START AGAIN IN STARS AND TIME.

yes

>no

[mcr-heritage-posts]

hey everyone - i know there’s a lot going on in the world right now, a lot of causes that need support and visibility now more than ever.

i’d like to take an opportunity to highlight a cause that’s very literally close to home for me: i live very, very close to springfield, ohio. the haitian community there has always needed help and support but now, with white supremacist rhetoric and bold faced lies being circulated nationally, with threats of violence and heightened ignorance being more common than ever, they need it perhaps more than they ever have.

there has been a lot of hate since trump and his little bootlicker attack dog jd vance have started this shit, but there’s also been an outpouring of love and community outreach in the weeks since springfield was thrust into the worst kind of spotlight.

the hatian community support and help center has been invaluable in helping hatian refugees get what they need to start a new life here. they are headed by a team of haitian immigrants that are personally familiar with what their fellow immigrants need. they have been instrumental in keeping their community from falling through the cracks.

i’m humbly asking, if any of you can - please, please consider donating to the HCSHC. every bit helps. and if you can’t donate, please, please share this around. if you’ve ever reblogged one of my posts or found them funny, if you’ve ever scrolled through and liked and reblogged what i’ve put here, i implore you to share this too. this is a very personal cause for me; i want to see these people who are new here, who enrich our community but are met with too much derision and spite, receive the help, respect, and dignity they deserve.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Soldier Of Death (10)- Nightmares

Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+

Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.

Please consider these warnings before reading

Word Count: 3.7k

General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist

Specific Chapter Warning: Dark thoughts, flashbacks/nightmares of experiments and murder, graphic descriptions of violence and gore.

—

A knock at your door snapped you out of your thoughts, blinking your eyes as your gaze flickered across your new room, briefly remembering where you were as you had zoned out for a considerable amount of time, still adjusting to the enormous change.

"Y/n?" Natasha's voice called gently from the other side of the door, an odd weight taking over your chest as a small pang of guilt invaded you, the thoughts from earlier haunting you as a mocking chuckle seemed to linger at the back of your mind, the sight of her lifeless eyes staring back at you unable to be erased. Your eyes flickered down to your hands that trembled slightly, every time you blinked the image flickering between your normal hands and blood stained ones, the darkness incessant on tormenting you, determined to ensure you suffered.

Show her the real you, let's see if she still comes crawling back to check on us.

This was the real 'you', you argued back, still refusing to accept that the darkness was truly a part of you, desperate to believe it was something Hydra put into your head and not your own sick and twisted mind.

Stop lying to yourself. You crave to hurt others, to kill others. It's only a matter of time before she sees that too.

Another knock helps drown out the sinister words, your head snapping over to the door, noticing how it opens slightly, Natasha calling your name again.

"Y/n? Can I come in?" she asks, part of you screaming no, not wanting to put her in danger while the other part of you wants her to stay with you, to help numb your conflicted state and offer a peaceful escape for a little while.

"Sure," you answer with a hesitant voice, the spy immediately picking up on your discomfort as she enters the room, her enticing green scanning over the room to see how you'd changed a few things. She noticed how the mirror in the large room was covered with a sheet, your bathroom door shut and partly blocked by the bedside table, the sofa having moved closer to the window where you were currently sat curled up, your hands hugging your knees to your chest as you stared ahead at the view. Her brows furrowed at how small you seemed, her mouth opening and closing as she was unsure of what to say, not too sure as to what caused your sudden switch in demeanour.

"Is everything alright?" she murmurs, cautiously moving to sit on the other end of the sofa you were on, observing your reaction. Your fingers started to drum against your legs in an anxious manner, your gaze still fixated on the view outside but she could tell you were watching her in your peripheral vision.

From what you could see, you noticed how the gentle glow from the sun that streamed through the window caused her red hair to appear more vivid, her skin highlighted beautifully by the light which caused it to look impossibly soft and smooth, the green of her eyes also popping as the light caused them to look even more emerald if that were possible.

"Yeah," you sigh out, aware of how obvious the lie seemed, not too bothered at the moment as you didn't want to tell her the truth, to scare her away and show her that side of you. You would never want her to see that side of you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" she almost whispers, her eyes trained on you rather than the spectacle that was outside, the sun starting to set which was why she was originally here.

"I know," you murmur back, risking a look towards her, noticing the tenderness behind her eyes, the gentle and soft smile that she was offering to you, nothing to indicate fear or hate present on her face. A warmth replaced the odd weight that had settled in your chest, getting lost in her enchanting green as she let the gaze linger, your eyes eventually flickering away as the darkness seeps back into your thoughts.

Let me talk to her, let's see what happens then

They snickered, your jaw clenching at their mocking tone, having a vague idea of what they would do if you lost control, the desire to protect her encouraging you to continue the tiresome battle of your mind.

When you remain quiet for a little longer, the room being enveloped in silence, Natasha speaks up again. She could sense there was something going on in your mind, just not sure as to what, the redhead longing to help you be able to be free of whatever Hydra did to you, just wanting you to be able to be the real you. Not their weapon.

"Do you still want to see the sunset from the roof?" she asks in a soft murmur, not wanting to push you and make you feel as though you had to come as, although she was eager to help distract you from whatever war was going on inside you, she knew that today would have been a lot, the earlier incident of the medical tests and training along with the adjustment to everything going to have taken its toll on you.

The room once again was wrapped up in a silence as you thought over her request, the wait so long Natasha thought you may not have heard her. When her mouth opened to ask again, you responded,

"Perhaps... Another night," you whisper, looking at her with an apologetic glint in your eyes as you could tell she was just trying to help, that odd weight stomping out the warmth as disappointment took over. Earlier, you were excited to go with her but now you felt too on edge to truly enjoy it, your expression conveying your previous excitement.

Natasha doesn't take your words to heart, smiling a little as you tried to make your rejection sound as polite as possible, your words also giving her hope as you had suggested another time, your gaze flickering down to her lips as they tugged into a slightly wider smile as a small one grew on your face.

"Another night," she whispers back, her eyes holding an indecipherable glint in them as she slowly pushes herself off of the sofa to make her way back to the door, pausing and turning to look back at you. "Enjoy the rest of your night Y/n," she says with a soft smile, her tone gentle and soothing before she leaves the room, closing the door and leaving you on your own.

"You too, Natasha," you murmur back despite knowing she couldn't hear you, gaze lingering on the door before you lose yourself to your thoughts again, trying to unpick your fractured mind.

***

A sob escaped you as your veins practically glowed blue as the serum was pumped into you, fingers prying into the table you were on, denting the metal as pain coursed through you violently. A harsh whimper was ripped out of you as another needle followed the last, the restraints on your hands and feet stopping you from wriggling away from the metal needle as it slid into another vein, another wave of agony washing over your body as you could do nothing but cry out in pain. Your voice was hoarse from the last few rounds of serum, the screaming and incessant pain leaving you exhausted after each trial, this one feeling different from the last as a surge of energy seemed to consume you.

"Stay still Soldat," gritted out a scientist but you ignored their comment, your fist pulling against the restraint, snapping it with the amount of force you used. His eyes widened along with the other scientist in the room as your other hand effortlessly shattered the other handcuff, the second man running quickly to the door to escape when he found it locked, his hand wrapped around the metal handle and desperately pulling on it, knowing that he would need to leave now if he wanted to live.

You blocked out the desperate pleas from the other man as he called out to the other guards nearby, your gaze locked on the other scientist who stared at you in horror and awe, the knowledge that the serum worked again piquing your general's interest who watched behind the one way glass.

"Soldat," he trailed off while staggering back, the reality of the situation settling in his mind as you broke free of your last restraints, your eyes glossed over with darkness and malice. "Soldat-" he was interrupted by your body tackling his to the ground, the days, the weeks, the months, the years of torture and pain he inflicted on you fuelling your actions as you lost control, wanting to rip the man apart and break him.

The other scientist could only look back in pure terror as an animalistic scream was ripped out of his co-worker, your body pinning him to the ground while your hands roughly snapped the bones in his arms as he tried to pry you off of him.

"General!" The man at the door screamed, begging the man to let him be free as your hands went to the other's head, eyes holding nothing but darkness in them as your fingers pressed into his skull, killing him in the same way your general would order you to kill your victims. As usual, the bone started to strain under your thumbs, sobs leaving the man beneath you until they were silenced by a deafening crack. A sigh left you when his heart soon stopped beating, your ears zoning in on how it slowly stopped while you pulled your fingers out of what was left of his head, crimson oozing onto the concrete floor as you wiped what was left on your hands on his white lab coat, moving to stand and face the other man.

Nothing but pure rage and anger filled you as the man turned to look at you with fear in his eyes, his back pressed against the door as there was nowhere left for him to go.

They made you like this. He made you like this. It was only fair that he suffered like you did.

A gasp left you as you woke up from the vivid nightmare, your chest rising and falling as your eyes frantically searched around the room, trying to calm yourself down. You pulled the blanket up further on your body as you moved to sit on the sofa instead, not wanting to sleep in the bed as the mattress was far too soft, the feeling unnerving you as you were used to sleeping on something solid, your mind still reeling from the memory. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment but all you could feel was the warmth that enveloped your arm as your fist went straight through the other man, fingers searching their way through flesh and blood until they reached his heart, ready to rip it out and watch as his body slumped to the ground.

They deserved it

The darkness said, their voice lacking the usual mocking tone as your hands covered your face, mind thinking for a split second that you could feel the blood from the man smearing on your face as your fingers moved to cover your eyes. You didn't bother to say or think anything back to them, simply trying your best to clear your mind, the attempt futile.

You knew you weren't getting back to sleep after the nightmare, your body itching for something other to do than drown in your thoughts, the only idea being to go back down to the training room. You were a little scared to leave your room in the middle of the night, not too sure if you'd be punished or not, so you made sure your movements were stealthy, footsteps light as you navigate your way around the compound until you reach the room, noticing how quiet and empty it was.

You didn't bother flicking on the lights as the small windows present illuminated the room softly, enough for you to see where things were to let your pent up frustrations out.

It was a cycle of cardio and weights, neither seeming to help tire you out as you either lifted the heavy bar over and over again or ran for an hour on end at a ridiculous pace, the enhanced stamina seeming to be endless as nothing seemed to tire you out, your mind wanting to sleep but body desperate to stay awake.

You didn't realise how long you were at the training room until Clint came over to you with a bottle of water, his face calm and containing a smile, hiding his concerns as he could tell you had been in here for most of the night.

"Thirsty?" he asked, to which you nodded a little nervously, not keeping his gaze as you finished the bottle in almost record speed, a pant leaving you as you realised how much strenuous exercise you had put your body through. "Everything alright?" he asked and you wished he wouldn't as you didn't want to have to talk about it.

"I just needed a distraction," you reply vaguely as you knew saying 'nothing' wouldn't have been a good enough answer, not wanting him to press for any more information.

The archer saw how you shifted from foot to foot, your head turning a little at all the sounds coming from the rest of the training room, your ears picking up all the noise as you weren't utterly consumed by your thoughts. An idea popped into his mind as he saw your eyes scan the room, his hands digging into his pockets in search of something.

"Try these," he says while handing you some earphones, your brows furrowing as you had never used them before. He chuckles a little at the confused expression written across your face, his hands motioning for you to put them in your ears before his hand pulls out his phone from his pocket. "Listening to music always helps distract me," he explains before he plays the song that was already loaded, the 80s hit causing your eyes to watch him puzzled at the strange noise, your mind noticing how it helped block out everything in the background without your thoughts taking over.

Clint watched with a small smug smile as you seemed to focus on the song, helping distract you from whatever was bothering you, as Nat came to him last night to talk about you, the archer giving her the 'best friend opinion' of the situation as she was unsure of how to help you and a little worried.

"Better?" He asked once the song had finished, a smile subtly creeping onto your lips as you actually rather enjoyed the song, nodding to him before moving to take the earphone out, the man stopping you, "Keep them, I'll play the rest of the songs for you now, but then later I'll sort you out a phone and make you a playlist." The words go straight over your head but you nod anyway, thanking him quietly before doing a few more rounds of running on the treadmill, hoping to tire your body out enough that you would sleep later without any issues.

***

The next few weeks seemed to be a constant cycle of waking up to a nightmare and sneaking off down to the training room, the ear phones a necessity to you now as you slowly but surely learnt how to use the music app on the phone, Clint's suggested playlist playing in the device as you worked out every day, still unable to get a good night's sleep. You felt guilty at how distant you had been to others, especially Natasha as you still hadn't gone to the rooftop with her yet, but you made a move to stop that as Wanda approached you in the kitchen.

Your teeth sank into the apple that you took from the fruit bowl, hoping no one would see you as the open space was empty until the young witch walked in, a mission on her mind.

"Hey Y/n," her tone casual as she walked up to you, moving to go into the fridge instead, your mind on guard as you were still not used to not having to ask permission for stuff.

"Hey," you reply back with a shy tone, still a little cautious of the witch after she invaded your thoughts, the brunette understanding of your nervousness. You took another bite of the red apple, the crunch seeming to fill the silence that brewed in the room, Wanda moving to lean against a countertop as she watched you sit awkwardly on one of the stools.

"I want to apologise to you," she says after a moment, her fingers playing with the ends of her long sleeve shirt, "I'm sorry that I went into your thoughts and made you relieve those... events."

You don't look at her as brief flashes of what you remembered filtered through your mind, your eyes fixated on the half eaten apple in your hands.

"Did...Did you see them too?" you asked, wanting to confirm your beliefs about her powers.

"I did," she quietly confesses, your eyes slowly moving over to look at her, noticing the genuine apologetic tone of her voice, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry you had to see them too," you murmur, taking her by surprise, her brows raising a little as she watches your form seem to slump in disappointment. "Thank you for apologising, I'm going to head back to my room now," you say, wanting to leave the conversation as swiftly as possible but her words stop you, your head turning back to look at the witch.

"Wait," she says to stop you leaving, "We're having a movie night tonight, the whole team. I was wondering if you wanted to join us?" Her eyes hold a hopeful glint in them, your mouth opening and closing just as quick, unsure of what to say.

"I don't know," you trail off, her smiling a little as it wasn't a straight up no.

"It will be fun, I promise you," she says, excitement seeping into her tone as she had gotten to choose the film for tonight, "I know it's hard to get used to but, we're a family here, and we want to get to know you better." The cheerful and optimistic look in her eyes wins you over, the idea of being with everyone a little daunting but the thought of familiar green eyes and red hair help calm you down.

"I'll join you," you say, earning a wide smile from the young woman, the sight inevitably causing one to grow on your face before you say goodbye, making your way back to your room.

Too busy thinking about the movie later, you bump into someone who rounds the corner, a recognisable shade of red entering your vision.

"Sorry," you both say at the same time, her voice a little breathless as she came straight from the training room after her workout.

You seemed to get lost in a trance as you take in her outfit, the simple sports bra and leggings occupying your thoughts while your eyes focus on a bead of sweat that drips down her neck in a tantalising slow motion, the sigh causing a different warm feeling to take over you, the sensation a lot lower than your chest.

"Y/n?" she asks, a hint of teasing to her tone as you snap out of it, red tinting your cheeks as you realise you were staring.

"Sorry," your tone shy as you mumble the apology. "I don't know what came over me," you say honestly, missing the subtle smirk that took over the redhead's lips, moving past her to go towards your room, confused as to when she followed you. You stood frozen by your door as she went to the room next to you, her hand opening the door before looking over to you, her brows furrowed as you stared at her once more.

"What?" She asked out in a chuckle, the smile never leaving her lips as she was glad to talk to you again, noticing how you distanced yourself recently.

"Have you always been in the room next to me?" you ask, unaware that anyone was near your room, the thought of her hearing you wake up after a nightmare entering your mind.

"Yes," she says, her smile dropping a little but still present as she could see your hesitation on whether to ask a question. She remained patient with you, moving to lean on the side of the door frame, her arms crossing over her chest in a relaxed manner.

"Have... Have you ever heard me during the night?" your voice was laced with nerves as you didn't want people to know, a sympathetic look taking over her face.

"Why, what have you been doing in the night, alone?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood but the innuendo goes straight over your head, your brows furrowing at her words. Her eyes soften as she looks at you, nodding to answer your question as you look down a little embarrassed.

"Sorry if I woke you up," you mutter, not meeting her gaze.

"You can come to me if you have a nightmare," she says with a gentle voice, reassuring you that she wouldn't mind, "We don't have to talk about it, I just...I don't want you to think you're alone. We're here for you. I'm here for you." You meet her eyes after her words, offering her a shy smile before opening your own door and looking back at her, unsure of how to feel at the care she was showing you.

"Thank you Natasha," your tone is filled with appreciation as you smile at her, a warmth enveloping the redhead's chest at your softening features before you enter the room, leaving her to stare at the spot you were just at, unable to stop thinking about your smile. 

[ghosts-and-glory]

I started this like two months ago but finally got time to wrap it up. I love this stupid cat’s final form. Idk why this low key looks like a heavy metal album cover but it does.

I spent a many hours manually painting the gore just to cover most of it in shadows. And i have mixed feelings about the lettering

[spark-river]

Mammon & Levi's fights

Headcanon:

Levi and Mammon often get in physical squables despite Levi knowing fully well that Mammon is stronger.

It's often about a figurine or something Mammon stole. The head bashing is especially inevitable with the way their sins work (greed and envy easily causing or strengthening each other).

Still, Mammon almost never uses his full strength on Levi. The only times being when he's startled and goes straight into a fight response, effectively knocking Levi out.

Whenever that happens, he too will be the one to make sure Levi is safe until he wakes up. Luckily demons don't get hurt as easily, not that Mammon doesn't desinfect and wrap any injuries he might have caused.

Levi on the other hand will leave Mammon with scratches and bites from their scrabbles. But as soon as he sees Mammon with horrible, loose wrappings, he'll go to scold him and rewrap them. Similarly to Mammon he's not entirely able to express his true emotions like care or guilt.

[radio-writes]

I Don't Know if I'm Real Without You

— Part 2 of 2 (Read Part 1 here: What is Left of Me Without You)

Synopsis: He didn't love you, but he needed you—that's what he said, at least. He needed you to show him just how deep your devotion to him really was.

Warnings: abusive relationships, power imbalance, some misogyny, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, murder and violence, physical injury to reader, major character death(s), angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader

MDNI

"Why, just the other day a green fuzzy caught sight of another stiff by the river! Poor green egg went green in the face!" A laugh track followed the voice on the radio.

Alastor sat on the couch as he riffled through his briefcase, making sure he had everything he needed today.

"What poor taste," You commented absentmindedly from behind him. "Is that really any way to start off a Sunday morning?" 

Alastor let out a distracted hum at your words. He hadn't really been paying you much mind. A lazy smile simply played on his face.

Just one body? Seems they missed the other two friends it had in there.

"Well, it takes talent to entertain, my dear. Something these hacks clearly lack," He said casually, waving a hand at the radio's direction. 

"And speaking of stiffs! We've got a fresh one today, folks—" The host's voice was chipper as it came from the radio.

Alastor sat a little straighter, as if on instinct.

"Darling, do you mind fetching my script?" Your husband spoke over the hack radio host. "Seems I might have forgotten it in our bedroom." 

"Not a problem, dear," You replied almost instantaneously. Your hand landed on his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze before you left the room. 

Alastor stood up, cooly making his way towards the radio as he turned the volume down slowly. 

"Glue stuffed in his mouth, chilled off, and absolutely tattered by nails, people! Brutal new body found behind the local—not so secret—juice joint!" The radio continued, but Alastor's smile remained calm despite the gruesome news.

His eyes stayed at the doorway you left through, making sure you had actually gone.

There was no need to sully your little ears with useless chatter like this. You were much more use to him all oblivious and naive, so he'd prefer to keep you that way. 

When the radio host finally finished talking about his the most latest victim, Alastor turned the volume back up to how it was. He made his way back to the couch, hands gathering his script neatly into his hands from the top of his briefcase.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to you. "Never mind, dear! The little bugger was at the bottom of my case this entire time!" 

He wasn't the type to forget these things. He was always so organized, sometimes to a fault.

And you knew that.

And Alastor knew that you knew that.

But he wasn't worried. You'd never doubt him. Whatever pesky little thought you had related to him, you'll just brush off easily.

He'd made sure of that.

Alastor heard you playfully scold him, your soft laughter rung through his home.

"—I guess you can say he really nailed that Chicago overcoat!" The annoying little shit on the radio joked just as you entered the room.

Alastor spared it one quick glare before his sight fell on you once more. You didn't seem to care for the joke much, but your eyes did linger on the dials of the radio for a second too long Alastor thought.

"Does the radio seem a bit louder to you, Al?" You asked him.

Ah, he must have turned it back a tad bit too far.

He looked at you with faux confusion. "'fraid I don't know what you mean, dear. Why would it be louder?" He stood up, closing the briefcase in front of him and straightening out his collar. "But I do have to split now, darling, or the ol' big cheese would have my head."

Your eyes met his warm chestnut ones. Alastor could practically see the way you brushed away your silly concerns in your head, a soft smile once again gracing your lips. 

He knew you were confused as to why his boss supposedly needed him at work on a Sunday.

He knew you wanted to ask why.

He knew that, at least some part of you, didn't fully believe that he was headed off to the radio station. 

If you were smart you'd have listened to it.

But you were his wife. 

So you simply nodded in understanding, moving closer to where Alastor stood. You made to grab for the suit jacket that still hung on his arm but the tall man was quick to pull it high above your reach.

"Not so fast there, darling." He teased, smiling down at you.

"It's cold out, dear. I'll help you put your coat on," You insisted, small, delicate hands reached up for the jacket.

Alastor stepped back from you, briefly tapping his fingertip against your nose. "And who said I was in any hurry to cover up this lovely new shirt my wife got for me?" He teased, snapping the suspenders he wore against the crisp white shirt.

He simply adored it when he made heat color your soft cheeks. He loved seeing proof of his effect on you.

His eyes drifted to the clock behind you, his smile straining just a tiny bit when he realized what time it was.

He'd miss his mark if he wasted any more time here.

"In any case, darling, I really do have to dash," He smiled back at you, already heading towards the door before you could say anything else. "But do keep yourself free, baby. I'll be back before you know it." He shot a wink at you.

He grabbed his hat from the coat rack and plopped it neatly on his head, then he was out the door in a second. 

Alastor let out a short, tired breath.

Sometimes, he did find your love to be a bit tiring. But he supposed, at the moment, it was still worth much more than the hassle it caused him.

He hurriedly strolled down the street, smiling and greeting everyone that passed by him politely. His ego stroked just a little bit with every flustered dame.

He didn't care for any of them, but he never grew tired of knowing the charming effect he had on people.

Alastor tried to clear his head of you as he hopped into a taxi. He laughed as the cabby recognized him almost immediately, but he didn't pay the man any mind as he yapped about how much of a fan he was.

Instead, he found that his thoughts have annoyingly strayed back to you. He's found that you've been so persistently present in his mind lately.

One would think that sounded so romantic, that he was a cold man finally falling for a sweet little thing.

But in reality he was weighing his options.

You've always been so behaved, so meek.

He found you endearing, that much was true.

You were great company, after all. You loved the same music he did, kept up with his dancing, and sang so beautifully along whenever he tickled the ivory keys.

You dressed up to compliment his style, even if it wasn't to your comfort. Smiled at all the wretched people, even as they gossiped behind your back. Perfectly prepared and happily ate every dish he liked, even stranger ones you found hard to stomach.

Because you shaped yourself to be his partner. You did everything and anything that you could to gain his approval.

And that was indeed endearing. The lengths you went to, just to hear a simple praise from him.

Alastor used to wonder if there was ever a limit to it, but as the times flew by he realized you were just too happy to rewrite even your own logic just to stay by his side.

And it was also true that you were a brilliant cover.

As a taken man, there were much less people prying into his life as opposed to when he was an eligible bachelor. And no odd rumors ever spread about him thanks to how behaved you were.

People saw him as soft, gentle, caring. Because a violent, murderous, psycho could never keep a delicate little thing like you as his wife, could he?

Yes, you definitely had your perks. That much he already knew.

But you've been so restless lately. So oddly, insistent on being by his side more. 

He'd tried to talk it out of you. Whispered how he was so lucky that you weren't like other wives. How you trusted him and respected his space. How you didn't nag him like a terrible partner would.

And it worked...for a while.

Until you've been fixated on getting the darn basement door open, at least. Somehow, you had it stuck in your brain that opening that stupid lock would have proved your worth to him.

You've been visiting that mug of a shopkeep at the locksmiths so often that Alastor just simply had to get rid of him already. He returned the useless tools he sold you last time too of course. He didn't quite like others making a fool out of what was his.

Only he could do that.

The cab stopped by a rather classy bar, the driver letting out a low whistle, going on about how they also wished that they could live up the big life.

Alastor tipped him generously, bidding him a great day as he stepped out.

He tossed his jacket on quickly before he adjusted his bowtie in the reflective glass window of the building. This was, he thought, his second favorite part of it all.

For such a detached man, Alastor loved many things.

He loved meeting his victims for the first time in person. The thrill of so many eyes on him as he clasped their clammy palms in greeting.

He loved talking to them, watching their eyes light up as he mentioned what they wanted the most. That moment where he knew he had hit the nail on the head and found out exactly what made these scum tick.

He loved using it against them, luring them to a false sense of security.

And, his absolute favorite part, he loved dragging the sharp edge of his knife against the skin of their necks. The lovely shade of red bleeding down their stiffening bodies.

He just can't help but love—

"My darling?" A voice—your voice—rung out in the dark alley. 

There wasn't time. There was no time to hide the body, toss the knife, flee from the scene.

There was no time to come up a with a story, a lie, a cover.

Because you were right there, standing in the alley with him. His blood stained hands and the corpse by his feet plainly in your view.

Even with the blood smudged on the lenses of his glasses, he could see the fear in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you tried to process the scene in front of you.

It's a real shame. Earlier today he had decided that you still had more purpose to serve him. That he could still put up with you. That he would still be able to stomp out whatever stubborn will riled you up lately.

Clearly that wasn't the case anymore.

"Now, now, dearest," He started, hand reaching out to you as he held the knife still in his hand.

Your feet moved, but to Alastor's shock you ran to him.

Your panicked eyes took in the violent red that stained the pristine white shirt as you took his outstretched hand in both of yours.

"We should go," You hurriedly whispered, fearful eyes met his confused ones. "You can't be seen here."

You tugged him along the streets, careful to keep yourself in front of him as you tried to hide most parts of him stained with red.

Alastor's eyes were wide, his long legs working on their own as he tried to understand what exactly was happening.

"Dearest?" He whispered to catch your attention. "I just chopped off a man, you know that, right?" 

Your steps didn't falter as you hurried along, but you didn't turn your head to look at him either.

"Yes," You responded. The tight knot against your throat kept you from saying anything more.

"I sliced his throat open," Alastor continued to prod more. "His blood is all over me, in fact."

You whip your head around in urgency. You meant to shut him up. You meant to warn him not to talk so loud, that you couldn't be too sure who could be around to overhear.

But when your fearful eyes met his calm, warm, sweet, ones you ended up swallowing against your dry throat. Adorning a shaky smile instead.

"And I'm sure you did it to keep yourself safe, dear." You said, although it seemed as though you were trying to convince yourself of that.

It was as if a light bulb lit up in Alastor's head. He finally understood what was happening. He fought against his own body to keep himself from smiling as he stared into your uncertain eyes.

"I knew you'd understand," He feigned a sigh. His hand, that was previously unresponsive in yours, curled its fingers to hold onto you. "I knew I would be safe with you, my darling wife."

Alastor noted the way your stiff shoulders slacked at his words. As if you were waiting for his praise; as if you were waiting for that little bit of confirmation to fully push away all those pesky, silly, little doubts you held.

As if you were begging to have the slightest bit of reason to cling onto, to prove that there was no cause to leave your spot beside him.

"If anyone asks," You said softly, your hand reached out to wipe away the little bit of blood on his cheek. "I'll tell them you came home early to me. You did promise that you would come back quickly, anyway."

Alastor smiled down at you, letting himself lean into your touch as you seemed to love it when he does. "I am so lucky that you love me, doll."

You continued to lead him down the streets, sticking to less lit areas as you did so.

Alastor couldn't stop the grin from spreading widely across his face.

Because you did love him. You loved Alastor with all your sanity it seemed, but he was, unfortunately, far too happy to take advantage of that.

It was a huge weight off his shoulders really. 

Alastor enjoyed the hunt, the kill, but the clean up? Not so much.

While yes, he did enjoy tricking people into eating up his stories, misdirecting them this way and that, silently mocking how clueless they were. It was still such a pain to have to constantly make sure his stories were air tight. 

He didn't have to do that anymore, though. Not when all his darling wife had to do was smile shyly at people and hint that he was back home all night busy with more usual pleasures.

It wasn't even that hard to convince you to let him stay out late, hunt to his heart's content.

It was all just bad, terrible people. Scum of the earth. Dangers that could hurt you, or others. And Alastor, the dashing, selfless, secret knight in shinning armor was willing to dirty his hands if it meant keeping people safe. He'd taken on the burden so everyone else didn't have to.

Your husband, a great, tragic hero.

And besides, it's not like he asked you to kill someone. All you had to do was lie a little. Nothing grand, nothing elaborate—he wasn't so sure you'd be able to handle it after all—just smile, and hint, and spread a few insignificant white lies. 

It was easy enough, wasn't it?

And your little love for him did everything else. Your own lovesick mind fought your instincts without Alastor even doing much of anything else.

You convinced yourself so quickly that all this blood, all this violence, all this murder, just made your husband an even greater man.

Ah, he truly did love the way you loved him.

You were with him now down in the basement—Alastor conveniently finally figured out how to open the stubborn padlock—and if he was being honest, he never really imagined you joining him here.

Well, not alive anyway.

You watched him as he neatly packed the most latest body into a bag and burn the gloves he used during the act. Going through his simple routine to make sure he could continue to get away scot-free.

Alastor noticed how your eyes always averted from the corpses, insistent on staying on his form instead. He didn't really mind it, but oh did he enjoy that little spark of fear you worked hard to stomp down whenever your glance landed on a limb or two. 

He heaved the bag over his shoulder, before finally fully turning to you. "Well, let's get a move on, shall we, darling?" He smiled cheerfully, motioning with his arm for you to head up the stairs first.

You were glad to do so it seemed, you always were. You didn't have to watch your husband dispose of bodies, but Alastor found it rather cathartic how you've now started to cringe away from the basement door, after weeks of pestering him over opening it.

A little lesson, he thought. Well deserved. 

And look how behaved you were now again.

The walk to the nearby woods was uneventful. Silent. Routine.

Unlike the first time around he dragged you along. You kept wondering and wondering until you finally asked out loud how Alastor knew the streets so well. How he knew where to go where no one would see him. The man you saw him kill was the first one, wasn't he?

He laughed at your unsure smile, brushing your worries off with the flimsiest excuses. How he'd been home late so many times already because of work. How he just preferred to take the quieter roads so as to decompress from all his adoring fans—fans who weren't you.

And it was enough.

Because you foolishly trusted him. You wanted to believe him, and so you did.

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he continued to shovel dirt over his most recent victim. He was certainly far enough into the woods not to care too much about being overheard, anyway.

A sudden soft beeping noise joined his melody, and he looked down at his—rather expensive—watch.

"Would you look at the time! I hadn't realized it was already so late. Time surely flies when you're saving the world, right, darling?" He looked over his shoulder at your unsure form.

You stood hunched over, your back against a tree, and your arms wrapped around yourself, a fair distance from the man burying a body.

Your eyes avoided the hole in the dirt as you painted a strained smile on your face. 

Saving the world.

Alastor could practically see the way you tried to remind yourself that that is what your husband was doing.

"It's hard to keep track when you've got a lot do," You vaguely answer, choosing your words carefully.

It's not that you worried Alastor would do anything to you. But you were, unknowingly, cautious of any single thing that could trigger any more silly concerns within yourself.

Alastor hummed in response, his eyes staring at the mangled corpse he threw in the ditch. "They'll be looking for me at work if I don't show up soon, though." He thought out loud. "But I can't exactly leave this rotten stiff like this, can I?"

He sounded troubled. He looked troubled, with that wrinkle between his brow.

A good wife would soothe him.

A good wife wouldn't stand around watching her spouse do all the hard work.

He didn't need to say it though, not that he had any mind to. You heard his voice in your head regardless. 

Your timid, unsure voice spoke up. "I...I could stay behind and continue burying it?" It sounded like a question.

One that it seemed like you hoped the answer was no. 

Except you'd be a horrible wife for thinking that. You should be praying that he'd say yes.

After all, a good wife would do anything to help her husband.

Alastor froze for a second, his eyes catching yours from above his glasses before he adjusted them up his nose. 

Then you were rewarded with a smile.

"My darling wife, always so helpful," He cooed, walking towards you. He dropped the shovel to the ground and wrapped his arms around your waist, almost lovingly.

Alastor could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, almost fighting to get out. "But I could never ask a lovely doll like you to do such a dirty job like this." He tsked as he looked down at you.

"I can handle it, my dear," You responded, eyes bright with stars at his praises. It was almost as if you'd forgotten what exactly it was you were agreeing to.

Alastor pretended to think for a moment, but his eyes caught sight of the watch on his wrist and decided he didn't exactly have time to enjoy playing with you more.

"Only if you promise not to get caught, my darling." He smiled down at you, and you quickly nodded, promising you'll do a good job and meet him at home.

He pressed his cold lips chastely against your forehead, and left you with a corpse in the woods to bury.

But it's just that, anyway. Nothing too much to ask for.

It's not like you killed him.

And he was probably a horrible person to begin with.

Right?

You brushed away the heavy, gnawing feeling, as you met the glassy unseeing eyes of the corpse in the ground.

Alastor surely knew what he was doing. And you loved him enough to do this simple thing to help with that.

Just as you shoveled in one patch of dirt to cover the man's eyes, you heard a loud gun shot echo through the early morning woods.

You jumped out of your skin, cold hands gripping the shovel as the sound rung out.

Your heart was at your throat as goosebumps littered your skin. 

Alastor.

You ran. You barely registered your own body moving until you felt the cold air whipping against your face as your legs carried you to where your husband went.

Worry. It all but consumed you, as your blood rushed loudly in your ears and your heart pounded.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Please—

You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't recall it. You didn't feel any of it.

You remembered seeing your husband's body collapsed and bloodied on the forest floor.

You remembered seeing someone with a gun standing panicked over him. 

But no, you didn't remember when you ran at the culprit.

You didn't remember the feeling of stabbing the shovel into their side, nor the warmth of their blood as it splashed on your cold skin.

You didn't remember bashing the steel against their skull with all your might; the metal dented and morphed as it disfigured the man's face.

You didn't remember screaming until your throat was raw. You didn't remember the tears scrolling down your bloodied cheeks. You didn't remember the horrible, unbearably cold, ache in your chest.

You didn't remember staring down the barrel of a shaky gun.

You didn't remember dying.

All you remembered, was the feeling of Alastor's warm arms embracing you as he pressed his welcoming lips to your forehead. 

And how you knew you'd never feel it again.

At least, you didn't think you would.

You blinked in confusion as you stared up the man—thing?—that caught you in their arms like a bride.

"I guess someone ought to rewrite those wedding vows because death didn't seem to do us part!" It laughed. Its voice sounded as if you were merely listening to it from a radio.

No, wait. Sure the thing that caught you also laughed, but you could have sworn you heard a whole crowd do so as well. Strangely, almost like a laugh track.

It's sharp yellow teeth showed proudly as it grinned down on you, and you couldn't help but cringe away a tiny bit from fear.

What are you? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to be blunt.

You wouldn't want those nasty paper folk to catch wind of Alastor's little wife being rude—

Except. Were you still his wife? Where was he anyway? Where were you?

The thing that held you laughed cheerfully as it gently set you down onto your own feet. "Darling, I will never get enough of how easy you are to read," The thing said, twirling it's cane—microphone?—in it's hand before it leaned on it to study you. 

You got a strangely familiar heavy feeling in your gut, but before you could think much of it, your arm was looped through its as it pulled you along to a shop window.

"It seems you're a tiny bit confused, my darling," It said with a bright smile. "It's alright, you weren't always the brightest bulb in the room, but you certainly made up for it with your passion." It chuckled, once again a laugh track following its words from seemingly nowhere.

You felt the tip of its microphone at your chin, tilting it so that you'd turn your gaze from him to the shop window.

You almost jumped away, like an animal not recognizing itself in the mirror.

It took you a minute to realize that you looked at your own reflection.

You even waved your hands around and tilted your head to make sure it followed your movements. To make sure this was real.

You looked nothing like yourself. Hell, you looked nothing human.

"Truthfully, I'm a little offended, dear." The thing beside you spoke up, now turning to his own reflection as he adjusted his bowtie and dusted off his red pinstriped suit. Something oddly familiar.

"It took me less than a second to recognize you, and you still seem to not even know who I am." It said, glancing at you from the corner of its bright red eyes.

Your gaze trailed up to the top of its red hair, seeing two small horns—at least that's what you thought they were. 

"The devil?" You asked cautiously, still confused. "Am I in Hell?"

It let out a hum at your response. "One of two. I suppose it's one of your better shots, my dear." It said.

It turned to face you, suddenly leaning down close, so as to have it's mouth right by your ear. Your body freezes on instinct as it spoke.

"Must I really bed you again for you to remember me, darling? Or would watching me bury another body be enough to jog your memory?"

You leaned back, only enough to catch a look at the thing's face. The knowing eyes that seemed so warm, so inviting, so charming, despite how monstrous they looked. The smile that seemed incapable of falling.

The familiar feeling that brewed in your gut.

"Alastor?" You asked, your now clawed hands reached up to caress his cheeks, and the thing—your husband—leaned into it. His eyes briefly closed.

"Took you long enough, really." He said, a joking exasperation in his tone. 

The thing—your husband, you had to remind yourself again—abruptly pulled away, his tone bright and cheery as he began to drag you along the streets with a heavy clawed hand on the small of your back. "Now enough of that! Time for more important business, darling!"

"Wait, Alastor? How? What?" You stammered, attempting to pull away to take a second to breathe and clear your head.

The hand that guided you slid to the side of your waist, pulling you tightly against it's Alastor's side. "Ah, my darling thing. Always so slow on the uptake." He shook his head as if he found it adorable. "We're in Hell, dear!"

The words rang loudly in your ears, your heart sinking to your stomach.

"And we have important business to take care of, yes indeed!" Alastor continued, not letting you process a single thought. "And for this, I'll need a partner I can trust! I'll need a partner who I can rely on! I'll need someone absolutely devoted to me." His eyes met yours but he saw how the alarm still outweighed his words.

His eyes narrowed, lowering his face abruptly to yours, to the point where you could feel his breath on your skin. He wanted your attention, all of it, and didn't really care all that much about what else you had to think about.

"Hellooo? Anybody home?" He joked, tilting his head as he saw your eyes come back to focus on him. "Ah, there you are, dear. Thought I lost you for a moment."

You supposed you could think things through later. Even if Alastor looked terribly different now, this was still your caring husband after all. And he needed something.

A devoted parter? Was that what he said?

"Well, you know I'm always here for you, Al. Whatever this plan of yours is." You tried to paint a smile on your lips as you always have.

"Oh, but how exactly do I know that?" Alastor stood back up to his full height, his head tilting as he smiled down at you.

Your brows furrow. You don't quite know how to tell him that. You swore you've done so much for this man, and yet when trying to think of an example, none came to mind.

You cooked and cleaned and looked pretty for him? Spent time with him? Loved him? Lie for him? Hide a body for him? That's just what a good wife would do.

But you supposed—you think—you killed for him.

"I avenged you?" It came out more of a question than an answer. "I killed for you."

Alastor didn't blink as he responded. "Then do it again."

Your mouth ran dry.

Had you heard him correctly? Was it a joke?

You waited for the laugh track to play but none came.

"What do you mean...exactly?" You asked with a nervous laugh, your lips straining to keep the smile.

"Kill for me again," Alastor casually said. He turned, eyes locking onto a random demon further down the street you walked along on. He raised his microphone to point at them, turning his head—unnaturally—to face you again.

"Like that one. I suppose he'll do." His tone was still as cheerful as ever.

You follow to where he pointed, eyes hesitantly looking at the creature. 

You quickly looked back up to meet your husband's gaze. That feeling was there again.

And you weren't sure if it was the fact that you just died, or the sheer lunacy of the request, but you finally realized what it was.

Doubt.

You doubted Alastor.

"Why?" Your voice was small. "Is he a bad person too?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I know dear. I've only just seen him now. But we are in Hell, you know?" His shoulders casually shrugged as if he didn't really care. "So, maybe?"

You tried to hide the tremble in your voice. Tried to hide how you doubted him. "But I already killed for you. Why do I need to prove my devotion even more?"

"You killed out of passion, darling. It hardly counts." He laughed, as if you were being so silly.

You're left with even more questions when Alastor grabbed your wrist, and you melted into shadows before re-appearing right in front of your supposed victim.

"What the fuck?" They exclaimed, jumping back.

"Good day, good fellow! The name's Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" Your darling husband stepped in front and forcibly shook the confused sinner's hand.

Alastor waved a hand in your direction to showcase you. "This right here is the Mrs., and she'll be killing you now."

You flinched as Alastor's voice further distorted.

Black tentacles wrapped around the now thrashing demon. And to your horror, you realized they came from your still-grinning husband's back.

His red eyes now consumed by black as he looked down at you expectantly.

"I...I don't have a knife." You avoided his eyes and looked away.

Alastor's head tilted. "You have claws now, dear."

You felt bile raise to your throat at the idea of ripping some stranger apart with your own hands.

"It'd be terribly difficult if these clothes get stained. Who knows where I could get new ones in...Hell." You had to spit the word out. "A-and, we're out in the open. Anyone can see us, there might be police here o-or their friends and family."

"You won't do it." Alastor cut off your rambling, more of a statement than a question.

You didn't meet his eyes.

You heard him sigh in dismay. "Well, it's alright, my dear. I suppose I knew your love for me had its limits."

Your eyes widen in shock, head whipping to look at him in panic. There was disappointment in his gaze as he looked away from you. Even as his smile remained painted on his lips, you could see how he seemed to shrink away from you.

"That's not true!" You half yelled, ignoring the struggling demon still held off the ground. "I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. I'd give up my life for you. I followed you to Hell, even! How could you even think that my love for you isn't boundless, Alastor?"

"Because it isn't." He sighed, his clawed hand gripped his microphone tight as he started to walk around you. "You say you'd do anything for me, that you'd give everything up for me. But I'm asking you for something so simple, and you couldn't even do that."

Your shoulders stiffen, you try to turn your head to follow him around. "This is not simple, Alastor." You said, a tinge of hysteria creeping into your voice. "You're asking me to kill someone for you, again."

"Wrong." Your husband said in a rather, sing-song manner. A jarring buzzer effect played at his words.

"I'm asking you to kill someone who is already dead." Alastor explained, barely paying mind to the sinner who now just looked very uncomfortable. "And you're already in Hell."

He looked at you as if you were stupid not to have put this together yourself. "He won't lose anything. You won't lose anything. There is nothing to give up with this tiny request of mine."

He stopped walking in front of you, but a greater deal of distance away now than when he started.

"And yet you can't even do that, my love."

You glanced down at your hands—your claws—in uncertainty.

That persistent feeling—doubt—swallowed you whole as you stood there willing your body not to move.

You should stop.

Run.

Never look back.

But instead your body moved toward the sinner; sharp, shaking, hands hesitatingly sinking into their flesh.

Once. Twice. Thrice. You couldn't be useless to your husband.

Their muffled screams sounded so far away from you, even as they yelled right by your ears.

You felt it.

Their skin giving way and the blood dampening your clothes each and every time you sank your soft, delicate, clawed hands into him.

The feeling of your long claws coming into contact and tearing through whatever bone or muscle stood in their way.

The awful, gut wrenching, guilt that swallowed your chest.

You hated it.

Alastor's hand clasps affectionately at your shoulder as he watched you cheerfully. Enjoying the conflict in your eyes as your heart died with every drop of blood that spilled from your hands.

"I think I may have just fallen so deeply in love with you, my dear wife." He cooed into your ear.

And your chest didn't flutter, or grow, or skip a beat like you had thought it would at those words.

But it's probably just the guilt, right?

It's just because so much has happened that you couldn't process anything.

Because you still loved Alastor, didn't you?

You loved him with your very soul, but he was a liar, and you may have finally started to see it.

Taglist @lil-bexie / @mizukikyong / @amurtan / @fokrilove / @fairyv-ice 

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

------------

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[apolaskiart]

"Please don't make Hootsie an orphan..."

[kalivasquezart]

a change in you

part 1 // part 2 // [part 3]

[kermahillway]

I’m not at home right now and really wanted to draw one of Maxime. Either way, I had a very bad headache last night and had to vent. Sorry Bratt :(

CW: HEAVY GORE WARNING!!!

[brionysea]

I'm trying really hard not to just be The Complainer because that's an energy I don't want to bring here when I love (present tense; I rewatch it like 5 times a day) arcane season 1 so much but does anyone remember when powder was taken in by silco and being raised by this very utilitarian merciless 'the ends justify the means' type character made jinx turn out violent and merciless as well. and vi was horrified by her and the lanes were terrified of her and piltover was falling over itself trying to scapegoat her as the one bad apple of the undercity to kid themselves into believing that everyone else was perfectly fine with being treated as less than. and that contrasts vi after vander etc. died because she was raised by him and internalised the idea that no one wins in war and fighting back against systemic oppression isn't worth the damage it causes to your own community which is why she ended up working with cait and the council like vander worked with grayson. the people who raised them shaped them into who they are today but then in season 2 jinx has a daughter and she's suddenly completely normal and well adjusted and her attachment style isn't digging her nails in until she draws blood at all. like What. what happened. didn't things used to mean something

[tomssexdoll]

Rescue me

"Are you fucking crazy? Do you know how dangerous that is? Especially for the both of us, I can't risk that, no way."

"Please Tom...for me, I need this."

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom's gang leader Jack kidnapped Y/N, he suspected that she was a spy, all because she was in the wrong part of town and checking Tom out while on the phone. Tom is forced to guard her and she forms some kind of bond with Tom while she's down there, eventually leading to her convincing him to help her escape.

A/N: SORRY FOR THE BLURRY IMAGE :(

WARNINGS: dom!tom, reader!sub, p in v (doggy), eating out, fingering, squirting, mentions of violence, knives, inflicting wounds on someone, kidnapping, guns, murder, blood, etc.

"Get the fuck off me!" I screamed, kicking and squirming in the grips of the 2 men dragging me into a basement, a dark, cold, dusty room filled with cobwebs and concrete.

I was a hostage, kidnapped by Toms gang, they suspected me of being a spy despite me begging and screaming that I wasn't, I was chained up in their basement, beaten and weak, bruises covering my whole body, Tom was the gang leaders handman, his assistant in his crimes, I sobbed weakly as Tom was forced to keep guard of me.

"You fucking assholes....I'm not a spy!" I kept screaming, but they just ignored my pleas and chained me up to the wall, my hands and legs enclosed with thick, metal handcuffs, connecting to a long row or metal chains.

"Fuck you!" I screamed in one of their faces, one of them finally snapping, "shut the fuck up! If you keep making a fuss like this we'll gag you!" he yelled back, his spit flying in my face.

I rolled my eyes and slumped over, "behave.." one of them growled, walking up the stairs, nodding to Tom. Tom just stood there, his arms behind his back as he kept watch over me, making sure I didn't do anything stupid, not like I could anyway.

They didn't want to kill me yet, wanting to torture answers out of me first. That's the thing though, I was never actually a spy, I don't know why or how they came to the conclusion that I was. I guess I was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I was staring at Tom and on the phone speaking to someone, maybe that's why. I was only checking him out. As what felt like hours went by I grew increasingly bored, groaning and standing up, walking around the room where the chains would allow me.

I was happy the chains were quite long, giving me a bit of freedom. "What're you doing little lady?" Tom smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "What the fuck do you think I'm doing? Do you just expect me to sit there and do fuck all? No..I'm making it worth my time down here," I sighed, growing frustrated with him already.

"Might as well do something before I die, I'm sure it won't be long," I rolled my eyes, he raised his eyebrow at my outburst, his piercing gaze studying me carefully as he adjusted his jacket. "You seem to have quite the mouth on you, considering your current situation, I could kill you at any given moment," he chuckled darkly.

"Kill me? Yeah ok buddy, your leader would shoot you dead too," his face turned serious as he realized I was right, clearing his throat and just going back to being silent.

As the leader came back in, 2 men followed behind him, dark grins on their faces, excited for what was about to come. They both had 2 chairs in their hands, one for me and one for the leader.

"Okay, here have a seat," he sighed, sitting across from me, "my name is Jake, I obviously run this whole gang and I've pulled you in here because I suspect you're a spy," I scoffed, "a spy? why the fuck do you think I'm a spy, all because I was looking at one of your men for a little too long?"

"Oh so you know why we pulled you in here? Interesting..that's not something a regular person would say," he smirked, leaning closer. "I know it looks bad but I swear I'm not, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, please believe me," I grunted, growing frustrated with Jake's refusal to believe me.

"I think I may need to use more, violent tactics to get the proper answers out of you, don't I Tom?" he smirked, turning to Tom with evil eyes.

Toms gaze flickered between me and Jake as the interrogation continued, his expression a mask of cool indifference. However, his clenched fists and the way his muscles tense beneath his clothes suggest a barely contained anger, one not for me, but for the leader...

"Yes sir..." he mumbled, Jake took out a switchblade, flicking it open and dragging the blade against my skin, the cold metal sending shivers down my spine. "Please...I swear I'm not a fucking spy, I don't know how I'll get you to believe me but I'm not lying, why would I lie?" I whined, feeling the pressure of the blade pressing against my skin.

Toms eyes narrowed at the sight and he takes a step forward, his hand instinctively reaching towards his own waistband, forgetting for a moment the danger he could cause. He stopped himself, knowing that any sudden movement could mean disaster for me and him.

"Now, you're going to admit to me that you're a spy, or, you're going to suffer the consequences, ok?" Jake said through gritted teeth, pressing the blade down further, slicing my skin, beads of blood drawing from the wound, "ok that's enough! I think we should come back, we have a lot of work to do boss.." Tom spoke up, placing his hand on Jake's shoulder, his grip firm and tight.

"Alright then, you heard the man, be lucky he just saved you," he turned to me, a scowl on his face. When the leader finally rose from his chair, Tom stepped forward, assuring Jake he'd make sure I was in line. As they left Tom let out a big sigh, "fuck..that was intense, are you okay?" he bent down, stooping to my level and inspecting the bleeding wound.

"I'm fine..why do you care anyways?" I huffed, crossing my arms, the sound of the chains clinking together ringing in my ears. "Because I just do, you're lucky he stopped when he did, usually he doesn't take orders from me like that," he chuckled softly, grabbing a tissue out of his pocket and dabbing the blood off.

"I guess so, I don't even want to know what he would've done if you didn't stop him in time.." I sighed, watching as the blood slowly stopped spilling from my wound.

"I think it's cause you're a woman, usually with men he has no problem slitting their throats but with women, it's like he wants it to be slow and painful, something to do with his childhood I'm guessing," he shrugged, looking up at me.

"Jeez..." I grunted, "you have a lot of fight in you, I'll give you that," he slowly stood up, towering over me, his muscular frame intimidating yet oddly comforting. "How so?" I giggled softly, "well, usually they admit to being a spy because they'd rather die than be tortured, almost no one get's out alive with him, he doesn't play fair games" his gaze soft, nothing like it was before.

After 40 minutes of just sitting in silence, every minute excruciating, thoughts racing in my mind. How long would it be until he came back? Would my punishment be worse because of Tom? My anxiety grew increasingly high and I knew Tom could tell, giving me occasional worried glances.

Finally, he spoke up. "Is something bothering you? As stupid as the question is, you seem...unnerved.." he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "I want to escape, I don't want to keep waiting for him to come back, I want you to help me leave and I never want to see this place ever again," I sighed, looking directly into his eyes, giving him the impression that I was dead serious.

"But...what...are you fucking crazy? Do you know how dangerous that is? Especially for the both of us, I can't risk that, no way," he shook his head, crossing his arms and looking away, trying to avoid the conversation completely.

"Please Tom...for me, I need this," I said gently, trying to put him in a trance. Hoping a soft, calm voice would coax him into giving in.

Toms expression softened as he saw the desperation in my eyes. Without a word, he leaned down and wrapped an arm around my waist, lifting me up off the chair. He quickly fiddled with the keys to the handcuffs and unlocks all of them, freeing me of the constraints.

"There we go princess, cmon let's leave..." he mumbled, taking my hand into his. He slowly crept up the stairs, looking out for any signs of his leader or even gang members.

The bad thing about the gang members was their extreme loyalty, they already hated Tom for being able to secure such a high position and if they saw even a glimpse of what he was attempting to do, they'd immediately go to Jack, hoping they'd be replaced for Toms position.

The house we were in was eerie, full of black decor and expensive red carpets. Every step we took echoed around the room, the noise bouncing off the walls. He quickly lead me to the back entrance, somewhere where they'd come back after a big heist, a place no one could see them entering from.

We slipped out quietly, shutting the door and making a run for it, not wanting to waste any time. We were fully aware of how stupid, dangerous and risky this was but we just didn't seem to care, if we were going to die who cares, I was going to anyways and he was eventually, being in this line of work never resulted in anything good.

I ran off with him into the night, his hand in mine as I searched for a place to hide in. As I kept running I spotted a random abandoned building, deciding it was discreet enough for now.

Tom followed me, his eyes scanning the area for any potential dangers. Once inside the building, he found a relatively safe spot and sets up a makeshift bed for the two of us. He took off his jacket and laid it down on the ground, gesturing for me to sit.

"You're going to get in so much trouble Tom..." I sighed, slowly sitting next to him, resting my head on his arm. "You should've just stayed there and told them I overpowered you.." I looked up at him, "overpowered me? Like they'd believe that," he chuckled, softly shaking his head.

"Whattt..I could've had superpowers or something" I rolled my eyes playfully, a small smirk forming on my face. "Mmh, right, superpowers," he grinned, slowly laying down. I joined him shortly after, his arms snaked around my waist and pulled me into him, holding me like he didn't ever want to let me go.

One hand let go of my waist, slowly riding up to my head, he gently stroked my hair, his touch soothing. His voice was low and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night, "I don't care about the trouble I'll face," he said, his lips brushing against my forehead.

"It's worth it if it means I get to hold you all night like this.." he whispered, I smiled, feeling a blush creep up my neck. I leaned forward and caught his lips in a gentle, steady kiss.

"Should we go to sleep? It's so late.." I giggled softly, my eyes starting to droop. He nodded, wrapping his arms around me tighter, his body pressed against mine in a protective stance. "Sleep..." he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that belies his tough exterior.

I sighed and fell asleep in his arms, despite the uncomfortable, hard concrete beneath us, it was pretty easy to fall asleep. As the night passed, Tom watched over me, his mind only at ease when I'm in his arms. He brushed a stray stand of hair from my face, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

The next morning I woke up, groaning at the hard concrete against my back, I slowly took his jacket that was wrapped around me off and sat up, my eyes widening as I saw Jake and his 2 men beside him. I shook Tom awake roughly, "Tom...wake up.." I said gently, my voice filled with panic.

"What...hu-" he cut himself off, his face turning serious as he saw his leader standing right in front of him, a big, evil grin plastered on his face. "I see, you two are finally up, great!" he chuckled darkly. Toms instincts instantly kicked in, sitting up and pulling me protectively behind him as he stood up to face the gang, "what the fuck do you want.." he glared at them.

"Such harsh words from someone I trusted so much, how unfortunate you turned on me over a...woman.." he said in disgust, as if I was the most ugliest create in the world.

"Anyways, we came to tell you that we've come to a decision. If you don't come back to us, we have no choice but to kill her, she has seen way too much and we don't need the risk of being exposed, like last time..." he gritted his teeth, I could tell he enjoyed my fear, a proud grin on his face with every word he spoke.

"But I betrayed you, wouldn't you have to kill me too?" Tom said, his voice laced with confusion. "Oh you think I'd make it easy for you? Let you guys reunite in heaven? No buddy, you'll have to suffer until the end of time regretting what you did," he grinned, his 2 men laughing behind him.

His jaw clenched as he listened to the threat, knowing he had to think fast of a way to get me out of here. "So, what will it be Tom?" he said, pointing to his watch, "time is running up, I don't like waiting, you know that."

"You're a fucking monster..." Tom spat out, "Cherish the last moments you have to hold her because she's ours now, I will do anything it takes, even if it means killing you" Jake said, glaring at Tom. He barked orders at his men to get me, Tom tried everything to fight them off but they overpowered him, grabbing me and taking me out the building

I screamed and cried, calling out for Tom as he was held back by the gang members, "Tom! Please!" I sobbed, kicking and screaming, trying to squirm out of their grips but it was no use, they just held onto me tighter.

"Let go of her now!" Tom snarled at the men, roaring in anger as he tried to break free from the others hold. His eyes met mine, the desperation and fear in them clear, "i'll fucking kill him, I swear!" he screamed, flailing around and trying to rip the men off him.

They shoved me in Jake's car, speeding off to their warehouse, I could hear Tom's screaming in the background, my heart cracking as I heard the pain and anger in his voice. As we arrived they grabbed my arms, dragging me inside and tossing me into a cold, dimly lit room.

They bound me to a metal chair with thick ropes, leaving me helpless and vulnerable. "Get away! Let me go!" I screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks, "I told you I'm not a fucking spy what do you want from me?!" I sobbed, the veins on my forehead buldging out as I grew more frustrated.

"It's not about that anymore sweetheart, it's the fact that you turned one of MY men against me, one of my most loyal and trusted men. How did you do it, did you fuck him? Seduce him? I bet you did, you disgusting whore.." he spat, his words cold and cruel.

"You think that low of me? It was purely his choice, I did nothing to influence him!" I yelled, squirming in the chair, trying to find a way to free myself of the ropes. "Shut your fucking mouth, I'm sick of her, tape her mouth," he commanded, his eyes never leaving mine.

His men scrambled and grabbed some duct tape, cutting a strip and placing it over my mouth. "That'll fucking teach her to keep her mouth shut, dirty whore," he grumbled, storming off into another room.

I sat there for hours, staring at the wall, kicking my feet, humming songs and reciting math problems in my head, doing anything I could to escape the boredom, a few of his men guarded the outside of the room, making sure if I did somehow free myself they could catch me.

I missed Tom a lot, being without him was like hell, even though we barely knew each other we still had that strong connection, I just wanted to be in his arms.

More hours passed, the sound of footsteps echoed through the empty warehouse, the heavy sound indicating only one set of feet. The sound stops right in front of the room I was in, the door swung open and Jake walked in, stopping right in front of me.

"You're going to pay, taking my fucking best man away from me," he growled lowly, grabbing the same switchblade he used from days ago, flicking the blade open and kneeling in front of me.

He smirked, an evil force behind it, he slowly moved the blade towards my thigh, my legs shaking in fear. Who knows what this sick bastard had in mind, he could do anything he wanted, I was basically an open book.

"He could never love someone as pathetic as you, so useless," he chuckled darkly, trying to hurt me with his words. When he saw they were no use his anger rose, he gripped the switchblades handle tightly and dragged the blade against my skin, cutting deeply.

I screamed in pain, the duct tape muffling it, watching as continued to stab into my leg, cutting deeper this time, the blade biting into me. The sound of flesh parting under the sharp edge echoing through the room, a sadistic pleasure filling his eyes as he sees the blood now trickling down my thigh, dripping onto the concrete floor. "You're so weak, so easy to break.." his voice was a mere whisper, full of dark promises and threats.

I whined and sobbed, unable to beg for his forgiveness. "Stop your crying!" he yelled, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up at him, "I said, STOP!" he screamed, his patience wearing thin when I failed to heed to his command. He pulled back his other hand and delivered a stinging slap across my cheek.

He was yelling at me so loudly that we both couldn't hear the sounds of gunshots booming in the background, Toms heavy, angry footsteps echoed through the warehouse as he approached, he bursted through the door, it's hinges giving way under his powerful force.

His eyes widened at the sight of me, blood dripping from the wound on my thigh, a surge of adrenaline and protectiveness flooded through him, "get your filthy fucking hands off of her!" he screamed, seeing the blade in Jake's hand.

Anger blazed in Jake's eyes, like he had completely shifted, he charged at tom with the blade, Tom quickly moved to block his attack, the blade sinking into the wall beside him.

"Bastard!" Jake roared, sliding the blade out of the wall and charging for Tom again, Toms eyes flashed with fury as he saw him attempt to hurt him again. In a fluid motion, he pulled his gun from his waistband and quickly fired, the bullet striking Jake in the chest.

He quickly crumpled to the ground, the knife clattering from his limp hand. I screwed my eyes shut, avoiding the sight of Jake's dying body. Tom quickly rushed to my side, taking his shirt off and wrapping it tightly around my actively bleeding wound, then he moved to the ropes, undoing all the knots and grabbing me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he held me against his chest.

As he walked out of the room, I observed the warehouse, bodies scattered everywhere and pools of blood everywhere, I whined and looked in the other direction, one second longer of looking at the bodies and I would throw up everywhere.

Tom carried me to his car, gently placing me in the passenger seat. He rushed to the drivers side, starting the engine and speeding out of the warehouse, leaving the chaotic scene behind. His mind was racing, trying to figure out what do to next.

Once we were both a safe distance away, he gently set me into his lap, carefully lifting my thigh to examine the wound. He peeled the cloth off, revealing the deep gash. His gaze darkened as he took in the severity of the laceration. With a steady hand, he unlocks the glovebox and pulls out a first aid kit, beginning to clean the wound with antiseptic wipes, his touch surprisingly gentle given the earlier display of violence.

I hissed at the stinging of the wipes, he finished dressing the wound with the bandage, his eyes softening as he took in my trembling form. Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair from my face, "you're safe now, they will never bother us again.." he murmured, starting the engine again and letting me sit in his lap while he drove around, finding some place to stay at.

Eventually we found a hotel, he quickly parked and helped me out, holding my hand and helping me walk inside. He quickly bought a room, carrying me up the stairs and into the room.

He laid me gently on the plush king sized bed, rummaging through the hotels closets and finding some spare t shirts left by the staff (pretend they do that at hotels), "you should change out of those clothes," he smiled gently, towering over me.

I sighed and slowly took my shirt off, observing the dried blood stains and sweat patches, I reached behind myself and clipped my bra off, Toms eyes instantly widening as my tits spilled out, taking in the sight of my bare breasts.

His gaze lingered on my hardened nipples, swallowing hard, trying to keep his composure. "Fuck..." he said, his voice shaky as he stalked closer, he reached out and gently palmed one of my breasts, circling the nipple.

"Tom...what are you doing.." I gasped softly, my mouth slightly agape as I looked up at him, "shhh...just relax baby.." he softly pushed me down onto the bed, climbing on top of me and capturing my lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

I shifted backwards, going further into the bed until my head hit the soft pillows. He crawled up slowly, gently kissing my legs, up to my thighs, "you've been through so much tonight, i'm going to make you feel better..ok?" he murmured, "okay..." I bit my lip, nodding softly and giving him full permission to my body.

"Good girl.." he whispered, his breath was hot against my thighs before he started kissing his way up, reaching my sensitive stomach. His hands eagerly explored my body as he goes teasing and kneading my breasts and stomach.

He finally reached my crotch and slowly unbuttoned my shorts, sliding them down my legs and off my body, throwing them somewhere. He then hooked his fingers around the waistband of my panties, dragging them down with ease, his eyes never leaving mine.

He takes in the sight of me completely bare in front of him, his eyes flashing with hunger as he dove his head down, his tongue flickered out, tracing a wet line from my entrance to my clit, "mmh!" I moaned softly, rolling my eyes back, the sensation of his warm tongue on my pussy addicting.

He kept doing the same motion, again and again, each time his tongue grew firmer and more desperate. His hands gripped my thighs, making sure to not touch my wound, keeping them spread open for him. "Taste so good..so wet f'me.." he groaned, his tongue lapping at my juices, swirling around my swollen clit. "Fuck!" I gasped, bucking my hips up into his face, grinding my cunt against his lips.

He slowly lifted my legs, draping them over his shoulders and driving his face further into my cunt, humming in approval, his tongue delving deeper into my folds as he tasted me. He moaned, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.

"Tomm!" I whined, rolling my eyes back as the pleasure intensified, he smirked against my skin, loving the way I reacted to his every move. He began to lick and suck at me with increased fervour, his nose buried in my folds as he feasts on my arousal.

His fingers dig into my ass, pulling me harder against his face, feasting on me like a starved man, "so fucking good.." he groaned deeply, kissing and circling my clit with his warm tongue.

He slowly reached up, slipping 2 fingers into my messy hole, feeling my slick juices cover them completely, "fuckk.." he grinned, his finger probing deeper, gently moving in and out of my pussy.

"Such a messy pussy...so tight," he chuckled darkly, reattaching his tongue to my clit, sucking and swirling harshly, feeling my walls fluttering around him as he curled his fingers at my g spot, sending me into a pure state of euphoria.

I shoved my head back into the pillows, my back arching as I felt my orgasm near, "gonna cum!" I choked out, barely able to speak from all the pleasure I was receiving, he smirked and kept fucking me roughly with his fingers, feeling my pussy tighten around him.

"That's it..cum for me..let it go like the little slut you are" he growled. As my orgasm built to a crescendo, he increased the intensity of his ministrations once again. He pistoned his fingers deeper, repeatedly curling them to hit that perfect spot over and over again until my vision started to blur.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" I yelped, my release dangerously close, "yessss!" I moaned loudly, my legs shaking as I basically closed my thighs in on his head, my pussy quivering as I reached my climax, my juices spilling all over his tongue and fingers.

"Ohhh yes..such a good girl for me," he mumbled, licking and slurping up everything I gave him, not wasting a single drop. Before even letting me process what just happened he sat me up, crawling behind me and gently pulling me against him so that my back was resting on his chest.

"That's it...just let me take care of you, let me make you forget about the pain, ok princess?" he whispered gently in my ear, his hot breath fanning against my neck, "o-okay..." I whimpered softly, he hoisted my legs to up to my chest, I felt his fingers slowly rub on my body, finding every crevise and curve, tending to it.

"So beautiful, so perfect for me.." he smirked, leaning down and gently kissing my neck, then my shoulders, leaving a trace of his scent wherever he went.

"Tom...please.." I gasped, feeling his fingers slide teasingly down my stomach, down to my burning heat. "Please what? Words baby..use your words..tell me what you need" he said, his voice gentle yet assertive.

His fingers gently brushed against my slick folds, teasing the entrance to my pussy, "need..your fingers.." I said, my lip gently quivering as I grew more impatient, "okay, okay..." he chuckled at the desperation laced in my voice.

I felt his hard cock pressed against my ass, his fingers slowly sliding into me again, his other hand coming up to my exposed breast, fingers tweaking and rolling my nipples as he nuzzled into my neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along my jaw.

"Take it baby...take it all..." he murmured in my ear, sliding his fingers in and out of me with ease. He thrusted his fingers deeper, my inner walls clenching around him as he scissored them inside me, searching for that spot that will make me scream his name.

He pinched my nipples, tugging on them gently as he perked his thumb up to rub my clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles around the swollen bud. I whined, receiving pleasure from 3 different spots on my body overwhelming me, my chest heaving up and down.

"Tom..can't handle it...mmh.." I whimpered, pushing my body into his, trying to close my legs. "Shhh, you can take it baby, just relax," he gentle nibbled on my earlobes, swirling his fingers over my sensitive nipples.

"So good...gonna cum again.." I rolled my eyes back, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling his lips come in contact with my neck again, the angle giving him better access. He gently bit and sucked on my neck, leaving marks everywhere, "my perfect girl...so obedient.." he whispered, his words lingering in my head.

"Doing so well baby..taking my fingers like the little whore you are.." he said, his voice filled with lust and desire. He continued to work his magic, fingers curling inside me as he searched for my sweet spot, his thumb rubbed faster over my clit, the pleasure building to a fever pitch.

"Tom! Mmmh!" I moaned loudly, my mouth wide open as I came all over his fingers, even after my orgasm he didn't stop, he just continued his brutal pace, shoving his fingers inside me.

"Fuck! Oh my god!" I yelped, his fingers prolonging the aftershocks of my orgasm until I'm a writhing mess in his arms. "Don't stop!" I whined, pushing my ass into him as I felt his fingers curl at my g spot again.

His fingers move with reckless abandon, slamming in and out of my tight, wet heat. "You want it harder baby?" he growled lowly in my ear, wrapping his arm around my stomach and reeling me in closer.

"Yes, mmh yes!" I moaned loudly, his fingers pumped into me with more force at my demand, obliging my plea. His pistons them in and out at a merciless pace, the wet wounds of my pussy filling the room.

His thumb rubbed insistently over my clit, ensuring that I was drowning in sensation. He smirked as he sensed my second climax approaching. He added a third finger, stretching me further and intensifying the pleasure, "oh my god!" I yelled out, screwing my eyes shut and focusing on the pleasure.

His fingers drove in deep, grinding against my g spot as he curled them, "fuck, you're so good.." he said, determined to bring me over the edge once more. His thumb pressed hard against my clit, the stimulation overwhelming as he works me towards another explosive orgasm.

He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear, "you gonna cum, yeah? Is my good girl gonna cum all over these fingers?" I nodded lazily, panting as I chased my orgasm, feeling my pussy throb.

"Good...very good.." he chuckled softly, knowing he's making me lose control. His fingers continued their relentless assault, driving me to the brink of madness with pleasure. As my pussy spasms around his digits, he increased the pressure on my clit, pushing me over the edge into a shattering orgasm.

"Fuck!" I screamed, my legs trembling as my orgasm crashed down, a small spurt of clear liquid spilling out of my cunt, his eyes widened at this, not knowing I had the ability to squirt.

"Oh fuck.." he muttered, I felt his cock throb on my ass, begging for attention. "I need you, now, I can't wait any longer.." he mumbled, scrambling around and flipping me over onto my stomach, getting behind me and pulling me against his crotch, his hard cock pressing into my bare pussy.

I heard him start to take off his pants, his hands shaking in anticipation, he shoved them off along with his boxers, his thick, veiny cock springing out, already leaky with pre.

His hands gripped my hips tightly as he lined his tip with my dripping wet pussy. With a sharp thrust, he buried himself inside me, I yelped and hissed at the pain, a low growl of satisfaction rumbled in his chest, "so tight.." he said, pulling back slightly before slamming into me again, setting a brutal pace.

The bed creaked beneath me as he thrusted harder, driving his cock deep into my pulsing pussy with each stroke. His balls slapped against my clit, the lewd sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room.

I moaned loudly, feeling his cock hit my g spot rapidly, "ohhh yes!" sending waves of pleasure throughout my body, my tits bouncing with every hard thrust. His breathing became ragged as he continues his relentless attack on my pussy, "you like that, hm? You like my big cock slamming into your tight pussy, hitting all the right spots?" he growled, leaning down to whisper in my ear, his chest pressed against my back.

As I didn't answer him, my brain fogged with too much pleasure, he dug his fingers through my hair and gripped it tightly, pulling my hair back, "answer me, now.." he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"Y-yes! I love it!" I whined, the pain adding even more pleasure, his grip on my hair tightened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear, "that's what I like to hear, you dirty little slut. You love getting fucked hard don't you? Love feeling every inch of my cock stretching you open," he spat out, his words laced with lust and desire.

"Yes! Yes, fuck!" I moaned loudly. His thrusting became more erratic, his grip on my hair tightening even more as he pulls back, causing me to arch my back in pleasure. He lets go of my hair only to slap my ass hard, leaving a red handprint on my skin, "ow!" I yelped, shocked at the sudden pain.

He chuckled, pleased with the reaction as he watched me wince at the sting. His cock twitches inside me, the slap of his hand against my ass echoing through the room. "You like a little pain with your pleasure, don't you?" he added, a cheeky grin on his face.

I giggled, nodding softly, "and what if I do?" he chuckled again, finding my playfulness amusing as he continued to pound into me with unrelenting force.

I felt a knot form in my stomach, signalling my impending orgasm. He noticed my sudden change in breath, he smirked triumphantly and thrusts harder into me. He takes a hold of my hips, pulling them back against him as he moved deeper inside me, "cmon, cum for me, I want to feel that tight cunt tighten around my fucking cock," he said, his voice low and seductive, only driving me further to my orgasm.

With a few more brutal thrusts my orgasm washed over me, his cock exploding as I tightened around his cock, my juices spilling all over his throbbing member, he made sure to fuck the cum deep into me, not wanting to risk spillage on the sheets.

"Jesus christ.." he murmured, collapsing beside me and swiftly pulling me with him, cradling my shaking frame against his chest, whispering soothing words into my ear to help me calm down from my series of earth shattering orgasms.

After a few minutes I finally spoke up, "I thought you were going to take care of me, didn't think slapping and hair pulling would be apart of that," I giggled, rolling my eyes playfully as I reached up to caress his cheek, he chuckled and kissed the tip of my nose, "sorry baby, I got carried away, your pussy was just too good," he said, sending shivers down my spine.

"I'm glad I get to have you in my arms like this, just relaxed, not afraid of being interrupted," he smiled softly, reaching up and running his hands through my hair gently, caressing my aching scalp.

"Me too..." I whispered, pressing my forehead against his, savouring the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around me, eventually we both drifted off to sleep in each others arms, not a worry or care about anyone or anything except for each other.

tags: @ballhair @kaulitzsbabyy @kaulitzswhxre

tags: @tomsonlyslut @pa1n-0f-l0ve @bills-wife-1

tags: @bkaulitzlover @ella1289 @billsdolliest

[stevesgother]

Vows - S.H

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

WC: 939

Warnings: swearing, toxic relationship dynamics, PTSD, anxiety/depression, alcohol consumption, drugs, hurt no comfort, angst

AN: this is NOT a happy fic. A little self indulgent / a way of processing my own past abusive relationships, and growing up in a household w/ DV. i wanted to explore a timeline where Steve doesn’t get a grip on the trauma he endured, and how he lets it consume him and his marriage.

The alarm clock on your bedside table reads 4:02 AM in flashes of blinking red by the time you feel the dip in the mattress caused by your husband crawling into the bed beside you. What used to be a warm, enveloping presence has since been replaced with a raw, calloused and whisky smelling one. He doesn’t wrap a muscular arm around your waist, he doesn’t place a tender kiss on your shoulder and whisper softly to you ‘Goodnight, love’ – he simply exhales a gravely sigh and drifts into a fitful sleep.

The memories – the trauma – that he thought might soften with the passage of time had grown ugly, sharp edges like jagged knives; shattered shards of glass. Nights and most days are spent drinking, you can’t even remember what his kiss used to taste like without the harsh sting of alcohol burning the back of his tongue. Perhaps they tasted like a drive-in movie; or lying shoulder to shoulder in tall grass – right on the cusp of a sweltering Hawkins summer. On the nights you miss him the most, your chin tucked into your knees while you hide behind a pounding door, you try to summon it all back. You miss him more than you remember him.

When it’s not Jim Beam, it’s Valium. Xanax. Klonopin. Those ugly, piss-colored pill bottles can be found in every crevice of your home. You loathe even the sight of them, recalling how Steve never actually wanted to take them in the first place. Now, you claw desperately at the proverbial rabbit hole you’re in. Dirt under your fingernails, no rocks or vines for purchase, while your husband rots in front of your very eyes. For years, you’ve waited for him to be himself again. Today, when you finally peel yourself out of your shared bed, you know he never will be.

As you’re sorting out the overdue electric and gas bills on your dirty kitchen table, you hear him finally start to stir. You work 50 hours a week, sometimes more. Steve collects a monthly disability check that promptly gets spent on booze. You’re shocked an eviction notice hasn’t been nailed to your front door yet.

“There’s coffee,” you say with a forced lightness and a tight lipped smile. It’s a coin toss every morning how we will respond to you, indicating how the rest of the day will go. Today, he grumbles and trudges his way over to the ancient coffee machine. Any optimism for a peaceful day is saturated with dread. More and more lately, you can’t shake that feeling.

“Why’re you opening my mail?” he asks accusingly as he sits in the chair across from you.

“Because, Steve. We’re 2 months late on the damn gas bill, they’re going to shut us off.” you sigh, having no energy for the incoming argument you know in your gut is about to ensue. “Do you want to have heat?”

“Do not start already,” he glares pointedly at you as he snatches the mail from your shaky hands. “How many times do I have to tell you I've got it?”

“Because you’re the one that works, right?” you mumble as you stand to leave the table, and you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. A heavy palm lands on the table behind you, making you jump. Stale coffee sloshes over Steve’s mug, the one that reads in a dainty cursive font ‘Mr.’. The matching mug to your ‘Mrs.’. A wedding gift, you can’t remember anymore from who.

“Goddamnit, why do you always gotta be so fucking smart?” he points a calloused finger at you. He’s standing now, almost toe to toe. The way he towers over you used to be intimidating, now you sometimes wish he'd just hit you and get it over with.

“You know what? I won’t touch your fucking mail anymore, Steve. I’ll let the heat get shut off. I’ll let you get evicted from this fucking shithole. It won’t matter, because I won’t be here to fuckin’ see it.” you spit and he cages you against the wall with a strong arm when you attempt to storm away.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Get out of my way!” you shout and shove at his chest. When he finally moves, you all but run to your bedroom and pull out the suitcase you used on your honeymoon to pack your clothes. You hear an indistinct shout, and the telltale sound of ceramic shattering against drywall.

‘Do you, take Steven David Harrington, to be your lawfully wedded husband,’

Your shoving of clothes becomes faster as your adrenaline starts to rise. 

“Baby c’mon, where are you going?” He’s standing in the doorway, sounding exasperated. Of all the times you’ve threatened to leave, never have you actually followed through.

“I’m leaving, Steve,”

‘To have and to hold, from this day forward,’

“You’re not leavin’. C’mon, can’t we talk about this? Please–” he takes several strides forward in an attempt to grasp you.

“Don’t fucking touch me!’ you shout as you feel his hands breach your shoulders and you shake him off just as quickly.

“So all this just means nothing to you then, huh? You’re throwing it all away for what? Over some damn bills?!” He yanks the suitcase away from you on the plush on your comforter.

‘For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer,’

“No, Steve,”

‘In sickness, and in health,’

“I’m leaving because you’re fucking killing yourself,” you shout with a sob, “You’re killing me.”

‘Until death do you part’

“You don’t mean that,”

‘I do.’

“I do.”

[bigassmoonchild]

Gentle

Pairing: Task Force 141 (not specified) x Reader

Wordcount: 891

Summary: You were always gentle, no matter the situation. Even if he didn't notice until now.

Content Tags: Fluff, Reminiscence, Interactions with Children, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of Human Trafficking, Heavy Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Mentions of Death, No Use of Y/N

A/N: Just a drabble ;). Maple Syrup will be updated most Fridays/Saturdays. I don't have the time during the regular week to be able to take the hours needed. You are more than welcome to request something! I'm encouraging it! As always, content under the cut and requests are open <3.

He wished he could've known you. More than the violence you used to get through missions, more than how big you made yourself seem when out at a bar after a mission with the 141. And when he really thought of it, he knew what you truly were.

Gentle. Not a word often used to describe military personnel. But you? That was one of two words anyone could've used.

It was a silent mission. Just something to pick up intel quietly and leave, nothing else. You were outside a coffee shop and he watched a little boy run up to you, stopping directly in front of where you sat. You gave him such a big smile, leaning down and listening to what he said into your ear.

You leaned further to grab his jacket and get the zipper to zip, rubbing his shoulders for a second before sending him back off. If the boy knew exactly what you had under your own jacket, he would've ran off screaming.

But he didn't, because you knew what you were doing when it came to kids. They understood when you were direct, and you always were. It was never trying to reach the point in a way you would assume that they'd understand, but in a way that any normal person would understand.

You didn't underestimate their knowledge. All people learned in different times so you assumed that the kid would understand what you said. It wasn't a bedazzled explanation with butterflies and puppydogs, it was straight to the point.

During another mission, in the middle of securing a safehouse you struck a man, knife sliding through his neck like butter and you were able to turn, grasp on the knife tightening before you saw the little girl. She was curled up into a ball, hands above her head as if to protect herself.

Even with bloody hands, you had pulled her into you and brought her to the safe point. Even covered in blood and grime she let you sit her on your lap in order to check her over for marks and possible wounds, happily speaking to you and allowing you to mess with small scrapes she had on her elbows. You had to hand her over once you got off the plane, allowing protective services to take her from you.

You'd mentioned a few weeks ago that you kept in touch with her, and the little girl was now going into year ten. You'd had such a nice, gentle smile on your face as you recalled the girls boyfriend, how he would buy her flowers randomly. He didn't mind how you'd mentioned you would do some unspeakable things to him if he hurt her.

Even when you shot a man point blank, you took your time to ensure the body was out of the way, to not get trampled over. You respected the dead, no matter if the dead had been shooting at yourself and the rest of the 141.

And as gentle as you were, you were equally violent and angry. The only time any of them had seen you like that was during a mission busting a child-trafficking ring. There was no respect, there were no mercy kills. You shot where they'd take ages to bleed out from and made sure they hurt while doing it.

When you'd finally finished off the last man, releasing the kids from where they'd been chained up, you'd given them little smiles and spoke oh so nicely. Follow this big, scary man now. He won't let anyone hurt you, you'd told the first group.

He wasn't sure what happened when you'd disappeared for some time. You didn't talk about it and he learned to not mention it. All he knew is that when you came back outside just a little bloodier, your eyes didn't have you in them.

It was when the kids had smiled and waved at you that you came out of it. Your smile, this time, hadn't gone to your eyes like it usually did. You waved back, letting them hold your hands if they wanted to and making sure they had what they needed while waiting for a medevac.

Water, food, just a hug. You did whatever they needed and didn't let anything stop you. He'd tried, sure, but you wouldn't rest until you knew the kids were completely safe.

So as he sat there, coughing up blood, he could only think of how gentle you would be. How you would try and tell him that he'd be okay, that there was nothing to worry about. That the blood was natural and that he was going to be fine, you're going to be fine, god damnit. Open your eyes!

And maybe he had closed his eyes, but either way his vision had tunneled too much for him to see. He could feel your hands, gently trying to stop the blood as you felt the tears pouring down your cheeks. There wasn't much you could do, you knew. You didn't want to give up, your mind racing even as your hands found his and you held them, grip gentle.

Because that's what you were. No matter what, you'd be gentle to those who needed it. And maybe you would be just as gentle with the next person who came into your life.

[the-crow-cryptids-domain]

Council of Fords comic, featuring Leather/Flirty Ford, Bill and... A Ford variant that has an Obvious grudge. Think I'll call him 'No Mercy Ford' or something like that

To Be Continued(?)