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percywinchester27 · 1 day ago

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The new Mrs. Winchester (19)

Word count: 4.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence; reader discretion is strongly advised.

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: A huge shoutout to all my wonderful readers! Your support and love keeps me going! <3

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23

“You can’t kick 'em in the nuts and make a run for it?” The girl in the next cell asked.

“Not if you want to avoid getting beaten into a pulp,” you told her through a mouthful of bread and tomato. “There’s always a guard outside the door.”

“Kick 'em in the nuts, too.”

You snorted so hard, bits of tomato landed on the floor.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “There are fancy rooms upstairs with wardrobes full of fancy clothes that you have to wear and then they take you to other fancy places for men–”

“Sometimes it’s just the fancy rooms overhead. Men come here, too.”

“But they take you out, don’t they?” She argued. “Just go to a reception and tell the hostess, a waitress, anyone. I know you managed to run away once… so why not try again? If they let you out, it can’t be that hard!”

You swallowed the bite in your mouth and sighed. What did it matter if you told her the truth? Neither of you would make it out anyway.

“They’ve kidnapped my half-brother and half-sister. Little kids, barely six… have them at gunpoint somewhere. I make one wrong move and they are dead.”

“Shit.”

You could picture her dumbstruck expression. After spending a week next to her, seeing her face while going in and out, you were starting to get a hang of her. You still didn’t know why you did it, take her turn every night. Eventually, they would drag her out, but for a week, the boss wasn’t in the building and no one seemed to push the inevitable and drag that girl’s stubborn ass out.

And boy was she stubborn. She bit and clawed like a wild cat at the guards who tried to drag her. She got plenty beat up in the process, but everyone seemed to wait for the boss to get her in line when he came.

“Don’t you worry,” she said. “My fiance is going to get us out.”

“Fiance?”

“Yeah. I bet he’s worried out of his mind right now. But there’s police. They’ll find us.”

“The police are in on this,” you said. “They get serviced for their quiet.”

She spat, then screamed in frustration.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, and blood froze in your veins. You recognised the hard tap and unforgiving rhythm of his steps. The boss.

“Go to your bed and pretend to sleep,” you hissed, discarding the sandwich in your hand and doing the same.

“W-what?”

“Just do it.”

Covering yourself entirely with the blanket, you rolled into a ball, as if that would make you invisible, teleport you out of the horror story you were about witness. Since staring at the glass wall in his cabin for the first time, you had prayed for yourself. The pastor in the church your aunt dragged you to every Sunday preached that one should only pray for the world and not for oneself… because praying for oneself was selfish. If you prayed only for the world, that made you a good person, and God helped good people without having to ask for it.

You had never been particularly religious, but that one thing had stuck around. Subconsciously, all your life, you had never asked for yourself, not from God, the universe or even as a favour from people. If you wanted something, you had worked hard to earn it, and achieve it by sheer will and not divine intervention.

But that first night with the boss had made you pray for yourself over and over.

And you prayed now, in whispers that only remained in your breath, never making a sound.

God, let him forget that I exist… Not tonight. Please please please.

The footsteps came to a halt, and the door next to yours opened.

You closed your eyes tighter. Oh, that poor girl. He had come for her at last.

“I hear you’ve been difficult.”

A spit.

“Michael,” he said in his cold, raspy voice. “Hand me my cane, now.”

“Yes, Boss,” said Michael, gleefully.

A slash in the air and a piercing scream sliced the air.

You shut your ears tightly as the scuffling began… but then it ended as suddenly as it had started when a loud, sickening crunch which sounded so close to the shared wall that you were certain it had happened against it.

A minute passed.

“Oh, what a terrible waste,” the boss sighed at last, almost delicately. “Remove it.”

The taps receded and then soon they carried her body by your cell, blood trailing behind her.

You sat up bolt in your bed, unable to keep the bile down as you emptied your stomach on the carpet next to the bed. Sam’s side of the carpet.

You plopped back on the bed, breathing heavily.

“Just a dream,” you told yourself. “Just a dream.” Then, the reality came crashing down on you and you wanted to throw up all over again.

Abby’s quiet knock from the main door wrenched you out of bed and through the seating area. She didn’t have to see the vomit. Her face was pinched when you opened the door for her. She entered trepidly and placed the breakfast tray on the table.

“Who’s in the house?” You asked

“Just us,” she said. “Mr Dean Winchester left last night itself.”

“And S-Sam? He’s out for his run?”

“Mr Winchester left for work.”

“It’s only 7.”

She gave you an apprehensive look, as if she wanted to say something but was scared of how you would perceive it.

“What is it, Abby?”

“Miss, he’s in a right state, that man. Before you came, he used to be so dry and detached… but this past month, since you first locked yourself in your room, he’s gone from pillar to post for you. Sleep, food, everything be damned. The only thing he has done is worry.” Her hand fluttered nervously to her side. “He stumbled down the steps this morning from exhaustion and still went for his run anyway. I think he needs to see a doctor.”

Abby didn’t know what had conspired last night.

“I don’t know the deal with his brother being back now,” she said, wrangling the corner of her apron. “But everyone knows they don’t get along. It can’t be good for him.”

Sam had looked exhausted last evening. The dark circles under his eyes, the once-fitted shirt that hung loose on his shoulders, and the ever-present frown on his forehead had become more and more etched now.

“Abby, tell me when Sam is back, will you?”

You sent her away and cleaned up your mess in the bedroom. A hot shower further cleared your head. Taking stock of your time in the Winchester Mansion made you recount the number of times you had run out on Sam, locked yourself in the room, the number of secrets you had kept. So, he’d had his own secrets. You knew that.

Then there was the fact that Sam had never explicitly said he hated his brother. In fact, he’d never spoken of him without pain mingled with love. His exact words- “We had a fight and I couldn’t see his face after that.” Couldn’t…. Not ‘Didn’t want.’ Nowhere had his words implied that Sam’s consent was considered.

The day appeared stormy, with an overcast sky. Maybe the light of the lantern would carry, perhaps it wouldn’t. You set it on the sill anyway.

Dean found you at the pier an hour later, when you had nearly given up hope. He stood at his usual spot but did not sit beside you and you noticed he was dressed differently; no jacket today, just a black T-shirt and jeans.

Slowly, you tilted your face upwards to meet his sharp green eyes. How often had you wondered what Dean Winchester would be like? Bitter? Angry? But Han wasn’t any of those things.

“Get up!” He ordered, without an ounce of remorse. You got to your feet.

“This way,” he pointed and began to walk towards the jungle without a preamble.

A frisson of annoyance ran through you. Where was his abashedness?

“Sam didn’t know,” he said briskly. “That you knew me. That we knew each other. That poor bastard had no damn clue.”

“You want me to believe you’ve been hiding out in these woods without Sam knowing?”

“Yes.” He came to an abrupt stop and you realised Dean was dead serious. “That kid’s as straight-jacketed as they come. Keeping up the charade nearly did a number on his head, and then you came into the picture. Sam’s nearly lost his goddamned mind over you.”

“He told you that?”

Dean sighed in exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening to a single word? I haven’t seen Sam in months, not since the fight. But he’s my only family left. I had to keep an eye on the kid.”

The trees were too damn thick for any sunlight to trickle down. Dean started walking again and you followed.

“What was the fight about, then?” You pressed, refusing to believe.

“You,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Two years before I came into the picture? Yeah, right.”

Dean tilted his head, weighing his words. “About the idea of you, I guess.”

“Wow, that clears it all up, doesn’t it?” You laughed sarcastically.

He stayed quiet for so long that you actually paid attention to your surroundings, finding the trail vaguely familiar in the thick trees.

“We were to be married in eight weeks,” he said, voice deep and achingly sad. “She’d come to drop off pie for me. Sam says he insisted on dropping her back, but I knew my Jo. She was stubborn that one. If she wanted to drive herself, nothing Sam said would’ve changed her mind. Nothing. Ellen called three hours later asking for her. We searched all night long, all through the woods, all the way two towns over. Nothing. Sniffer dogs couldn’t catch a trail. The police found her car two days later in New Mexico… and her body two weeks later face down in the lake.”

You wanted to reach out, say something… anything, but words failed.

“She hadn’t drowned, Y/N. She’d already been dead when they threw her in there. Post-mortem said haemorrhage… blunt force trauma to the back of her head, ligature marks, bruises…” He closed his eyes unable to continue.

You knew bits and parts of what followed– Dean’s self-destructive tendency and Sam’s unwavering support. The latter won.

“Sam still thinks he’s to blame. That he should have somehow foreseen it. I know Ellen doesn’t disagree with him or shy away from throwing it in his face.” A mirthless scoff.

“I think the bigger part of her anger is because of what Sam did to you… and me.” You said. “Or rather, what she thinks he did to you and me.”

Dean sighed. “I owe Sam a lot more than my life, a sorry and a thank you. This whole plan hinges on his resilience.”

“What plan?”

He ran a hand through his hair, but his pace slowed down. “The detective working this case, Jody Mills… she’s suspected a human trafficking ring here for years. Every few years someone goes missing or a body mysteriously appears. But this thing has its claws in so deep that we can’t trust the entire PD.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He glanced at you briefly, and you saw the ever-present kindness there. “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ve figured out a bunch of this yourself.”

Nodding to yourself, you thought out loud. “Sam wasn’t keeping me around for sex, didn’t want to hang me as bait for kidnapping, so obviously he wants information about where I was but…” You vividly remembered the night when he’d held your bloody hand and then all but shushed your barrage when you had tried to spill it all in a haze. “He stopped me from telling him… He didn’t want to hear any of it.”

Dean chuckled. A sudden light sound in the pressing quiet. “And I just called you smart.”

“What?”

“For all your God-forsaken angst over loving Sam… Have you not considered him liking you back?” Dean narrowed his eyes as if he was judging your intelligence. “Obviously it’s hard for him to listen to what you’ve been through. Hell, I’ve choked back on what little you’ve told me. Why are you being so thick?”

Tears sprang in your eyes.

He placed a gentle hand against your cheek.

“Give yourself some credit, Y/N. As stupid as you’re being right now, how can you question your own judgement of Sam so easily? You took your time forming your opinion, didn’t you? So consider all proof objectively. He was on board with the plan from day one knowing it would wreck his reputation if I disappeared after transferring my inheritance to him, knowing he’d have to make himself a villain… all for Jo. The kid didn’t bat an eye before agreeing. What led to the fight was the very last step of the plan. After infiltrating the system, he’d have to be one of them and well…”

“Buy a girl,” you finished.

“Yes,” said Dean. The word hung heavy in the air. “Sam refused to do it at first, but it was the only way. It’s killed him since day one, Y/N. And yesterday when you said he’s no better than any of those men who hurt you…”

The tears now freely flowed down your cheek and right into Dean’s palm. He slowly directed your face into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh, what have I done?” You whispered into his jacket.

Sam had banged hard on your door last night and you never gave him a chance to explain. Not a single word. If you truly loved him, how come the trust was broken this easily? And when you refused to speak, he’d respected your consent then, too.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you said. “I should’ve trusted him, trusted you. After all, you never coaxed anything from me. I–”

A thousand memories ran through your mind: Sam’s fingers holding up your corset, touching his hand for the first time in the entrance hall before, his laugh after the false escape from dinner. Sam handing you a portfolio, Sam showing you around the old guesthouse, his fingers slipping on your wet shirt in the barn, laughing with him on the floor of your bedroom, his voice as he read out poetry… and his lips when they met yours.

“Sam took to playing chess in high school,” said Dean as you moved back. “I don’t think he ever got too good at it, but he used to come back rambling about all these moves, the King's Gambit, the Scandanavian, the Sicilian. He didn’t have anyone to play against, so I learned the basics to humour him and we played every night before bed.”

He’d started walking again and you kept pace this time.

“So there we are one night, recreating some classic game from half a century ago and I played a different piece and well, what do you know, my king ended up in a position from where he couldn’t move. Thought I’d lost because that was the only square my King was safe in. But then Sam said that’s not what it was. I couldn’t be forced to move my King to a checked square, but it wasn’t currently checked. A stalemate is what it was. That’s where we are at, Y/N.”

“A stalemate?”

“Yes. We know pieces of information, but not the ones that actually matter. It’s our move next, but every square is checked, Y/N. We need to know.”

The dim lights of the dungeon came back to you and oddly the crack of the skull. “The operation is not local, definitely crosses state lines. The building where they kept me is somewhere along New Mexico's border. It’s a huge glass building, seven stories high. I don’t know exactly where but from the se…” you gulped. “From the seventh floor, I could see a tall red tower with blinking lights. They blinked all the time… like passing seconds… but slower than s- seconds. The boss sits on the seventh floor.”

“The boss?”

“I-I don’t know his name. No one does. They only call him ‘the boss.”

“This is good, Y/N,” Dean said eagerly. “What does he look like? How does he find these girls? How does he keep them?”

“He… He looks like any other white man, in his 50’s, maybe early 60’s but his eyes, he has the coldest gray eyes and his laugh...” You stopped, collecting your thoughts. “You already know how he gets the girls. Men as scouts, pretending to be friends or lovers, finding vulnerable girls with little in the way of family. Me… Rosalie. About keeping them, there are two ways. One is standard, get them hooked to heroin. Once you have that, they’ll do anything to get the next fix. But those girls don’t make much money, yeah? They aren’t polished. I was the second kind, for the richer clientele that don’t like the smell of drugs and want the girls alive and kicking. For them, guess, it’s easier to blackmail by holding a loved one hostage. Rosalie only had a mother and I only had Jamie and Danny.”

You told him about how your siblings were held hostage somewhere, and how you stayed in line just to protect them.

“There’s very little we wouldn’t do to protect them, wouldn’t we?”

Dean nodded, then came to a halt and you noticed with some surprise that you were standing in front of the wishing well.

His fingers grazed the parapet's tally marks, and you voiced a long-lost curiosity. “Why do you have one extra?”

“That dumbass brought you here, didn’t he?” Dean snorted. “So much for our secret place.” But he didn’t seem to hold any grudge over it. “Dad brought me here right before Sam was born. Told me this was a magic well, so I needed to make a wish about what I wanted… a sister or a brother.”

“What did you ask for?”

“You see the extra mark there, don’t you?” He winked. “After the fire, I used to run out a lot, trying to find the well again. Wish my dead parents back, you know? Finally found it when I was twelve and Sam was eight. ”

“Seems like you’ve kept pace since with the tallys.”

Dean winked as if there was a secret to it, but didn’t share it with you.

“Come on, make a wish then,” he said.

“One is already due. I don’t want to burden the well.” You sighed. “Look, Dean. I’ll help you with whatever you want. I can draw plans of the building, and the street layout I could see from the seventh floor. Tell you the number of guards, the shifts, even the names of some of the clients, but I need you to promise me that nothing will happen to my brother and sister.”

“I promise.”

The walk back should have seemed like an interrogation, except Dean held your hand as you described more of the place, the people, the process… the boss.

“I told you already, I don’t know his name,” you burst out when he questioned a third time.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Did he… Did he hurt you? This boss?”

You laughed. One short, shaky laugh. “He had a wall full of these instruments… silver, gleaming and so cold.” Then there was the glass wall.

“Oh, that son of a bitch.”

“I wonder why you think Jo was involved in this,” you said, more to change the subject that anything else. “I mean she didn’t exactly fit the pattern.” Full family, doting boyfriend, well-to-do. Blitz kidnapping didn’t seem likely. The boss had to have had something on her.

“No, she didn’t fit the pattern and for a long time, we didn’t suspect her to have been in this.”

“How come?”

Dean’s voice reduced to barely above a whisper. “No obvious signs of… sexual assault in the postmortem report.” And despite the tragedy of it, Dean almost sounded relieved. He pulled out an old wallet from his back pocket and gazed at a picture inside lovingly. “I don’t know, Y/N, it makes me feel like an asshole but knowing that maybe she might have escaped the worst of it… God, I think it kept me from throwing myself off a damn cliff.”

“Oh, Dean!” You closed the distance in-between to hug him. “I bet she–” you gasped. The wallet hung loosely in his grasp and you glimpsed the picture behind the plastic.

You grabbed the wallet and held it up. “That… That’s Jo? Your Jo?”

He took you by your shoulders. “You knew her?”

“Oh my God!” All the hurt and anger and fear came crashing down on you as you collapsed to the green earth of the side lawn. Over the years she had gone from being the girl in the next cell, to the girl with brown eyes, to the girl in your nightmares and eventually… the only thing you were proud of.

“She’s… she used to be the girl in the next cell. I knew her.”

“Who did this to her?” Dean asked, voice so sharp, it didn’t even sound his.

“The Boss did,” you whispered. “I think it might have been an accident. I only heard the scuffle and then the crack of her skull. It was quick. She didn’t suffer much.”

There was a sharp intake of breath over you and you didn’t dare look up.

“Dean, you should know, the girls there… eventually choose to stay there. I know I did. Once you stop with the kicking and screaming, it gets a little easier. The bad days are lesser and most clients don’t treat you like complete trash. There’s food on your plate at night and poor orphan girls have a bed to sleep in when they comply… they…. we stop fighting. Because there is no relief to fight for, no home to go to and no one who could protect us. But your Jo, she never stopped. I bet she took a few teeth out of that one guard, too.”

“Did they… did anyone ever…?” He could not spit the entire sentence out and you saw the courage it took to finally confront that question.

You looked straight in his tear-stained tortured eyes. “No one hurt her that way. I… I took her turns for the week she was there. I still don’t know why I did it. I’m not a charitable person, and it was hell that week, but something about her faith in her fiance reminded me of, well, me… before I found out how I got there. I wanted to protect her faith just a little longer. So, no Dean, no one touched her that way. And you should also know, she died like she lived, fighting and believing in your love for her.”

Dean hugged you and broke down. “Thank you… Thank you for doing that for my Jo,” he blubbered. “You’re… You’re like an angel. Sam said that you know… yesterday he said that he thought you were some kind of an angel when he first saw you dressed in white. Wasn’t wrong.”

And you broke down with Dean. The night had descended upon you, as you both held each other in the darkness and just cried.

Much later, locked in the dining room, you drew the floor plans of the building from your memory, a map of the road and the way to the bus stop that you could remember, the names of the guards, physical descriptions, names of the girls, anything and everything you could think of. The maids all gave you curious looks. Getting along with a brother-in-law would be normal for most families, but an estranged brother-in-law who you had never supposedly met? Knowing the history they knew, that had to look shady.

As it turned out, Dean had been alternating between living in the Guest house in Sam’s room and a cabin further north that not many people knew of in the estate. He knew ways to sneak in and out better than almost anyone. Hired security was never too big a problem for him. He was to set out first thing tomorrow morning to see how he could use your intel.

“You know my roommate Carmen,” you said at the door when he was about to leave. “She might have been the only one to care for me back then. I fought with her the night before. If you can do one thing for me, find her and tell her she was right and I am so very sorry.”

“Of course.” Dean stepped up and kissed your forehead. “And Y/N, I’m going to get that bastard. Not just for what he did to Jo, but also for what he did to you. You said you didn’t fight after a while because you didn’t have a home, a family. Now you do. Remember that.”

You watched Dean head out. He would be gone before you woke up tomorrow, but you felt lighter than you had in years, like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. Upstairs, you found Abby in her room.

She stood up the moment she saw you. “Miss, is everything alright?”

“Yes, Abby. I was wondering if you knew when Sam would be back?”

“He was home earlier this evening but didn’t stay long. I believe he left for Colorado.”

Hurt. “Did he say anything about when he would return?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he ask about me?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he say anything at all?”

The pitying shake of her head was enough for you to turn around and return to your room. What if you had hurt Sam beyond fixing this time? Abby had been correct, he looked fragile, not just physically, but something about the fragmented look in his eyes, as if one blow could shatter him. What if your hurtful words and vitriolic accusation finally pushed him to the edge? How much bullshit could one man take after all?

You had stepped into this house thinking you would be used, and it was the most horrid feeling in the world. What if Sam thought the same now? That you had used him… used his home, his wealth, and his empathy. Hell, you had used his body, too!

No, you didn’t pray for yourself much. But in that moment you did- God, please give me one chance to apologise. Please.

*****************************

A/N 2: So turns out I was tagging all wrong :/ Ana is feeling sad about that. Hopefully, it will work this time.

Please do let me know what you think of this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

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witchyliterature · 5 hours ago

Text

GOOD AND PLENTY; K.B

witchy tip

➤ drinking mugwort tea is good for astral projection

15. hoc non est verum (written portion)

notes; sorry guys the written portion is a little longer than i wanted, i was gonna add the car drive as well but i may make that a separate like “insider” type thing is that’s what you guys want?

m.list

as you looked around for your headphones you could feel your hands tremor, you couldn’t tell if it was from excitement, anxiety or both.

on one hand, you were oozing with zest and not even just for the trip. a sordid, more selfish part of you that ached for katsuki’s acknoledgement and love felt as though cancelling the spell was a betrayal to yourself. you edged yourself with your own desires and ripped it away just when it was getting to the good part. spending private time with katsuki would only be the plus side, if you kept him under this incantation, he would be with you for life. you would be the girl of his dreams, the only one he desires, his one true love.

but the other side of you understood how malicious that was. one cannot manipulate someone’s feelings like that, regardless of how good it would feel or now passionate one would love the other in return.

alongside the fact that you understood that soon you would have to reveal you kept him under a love spell, which knowing, katsuki would turn him into an even madder man than he already is.

“it’s not fair” you muttered to yourself, thinking back to how you denied all his advances and professions of love for the sake of morality, when you wanted nothing more then frivolously discard them and make up your own laws for humans; one that stated that not matter want means you obtained what you want, it would be ok to keep them as they were.

either way, the loss of memories was something that truly wasn’t fair to anyone, including him. plus, this isn’t the katsuki you fell in love with. his abrasive, brass, aggressive, temperamental personality was something you oddly treasured. this sappy wannabe was only a shell of the man you craved and loved wholly.

you shook your head as you attempted to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, finally spotting your headphones, next to your charger.

soon, your ID and hero license was spotted on your drawer, which you quickly swiped before placing all of them into your large duffel bag. lugging it onto your shoulder and finally leaving your room.

“you guys leaving now?” izuku said, he was holding hands with ochako whilst ejiro and ashido were walking slightly behind them, engaging in their own conversation but stopping when noticing you.

“yep, gonna be gone for what i assume is the weekend so don’t wait up late tonight” you informed.

strings of ‘ok’s’ followed afterwards, resulting in a smile. soon, everyone was diving for a hug.

“i know how hard this is gonna be yn, but you’re doing the right thing.” ejiro spoke into the group hug.

“wait, you know?” izuku asked.

“yeah, ashi updated me since aint nobody wanted to tell me shit… but whatever.” ejiro sulked jokingly.

“sorry! i felt bad plus i needed to gossip to him about this u literally couldn’t hold it in.” ashido apologised.

“its fine, im surprised that your big ass mouth could even keep it in for that long” you joked.

“yeah, you dead wrong.” ashido said before everyone erupted into laughter.

“gosh, stay strong yn, and don’t give in! be strong.” ochako motivated you, pumping a small fist into the air, causing izuku to blush.

“you’re so cute occhan.” izuku complimented, causing his blush to deepen.

“no you’re cute!” ochako giggled.

“definitely not cuter than you!” izuku rebutted.

“yes you are, my little izu” ochako giggled once more.

“non of you are cuter than yn, wrap it up before everyone starts throwing up.” katsuki scoffed, keeping his eyes on you while he spoke.

those stupid eyes of his, piercing and striking. they read through everything and reduced you down to your core. you evaded these eyes for however many weeks, ignoring his advances flat and walking away when he even appeared. but here they are, meeting you, analysing you and artificially loving you.

you really fucking hated your life right now.

“thanks i guess kat” you responded, rolling your eyes when you wanted nothing more than to hold him.

“you ready?” katsuki asked, walking up to you.

“yeah, sorry to keep you waiting.” you spoke.

“i’d wait forever for you, let me hold your things princess.” he responded quickly without missing a beat, he held his hand out so that he could grab your stuff. a blush adorned his face despite his display of confidence.

“no it’s fine, i don’t want-“

“i said ill hold your stuff so dont ever think it would be a bother.. or whatever you were gonna say.” katsuki interrupts you, snatching the bag off you with speed he didn’t even show during sparring.

as you stood there shocked, everyone else was stifling their giggles or watching intently as though you guys were a soap opera.

“if that’s what you want to do i guess.” you replied, pretending to be nonchalant when you were cheesing on the inside.

“alright, later losers. don’t fucking text me ‘cus i wanna spend some quality time with my girl so if there’s an issue, it will have to wait. let’s go baby.” katsuki held your hand and dragged you whilst the others burst into laughter.

“bye lovebirds!” ashido yelled out.

“don’t break the bed!” ochako laughed loudly.

“you guys are so annoying!” you yelled back at them, to which they responded with laughter and waves.

as you two marched down the sidewalk, you finally realised you don’t even know where he was dragging you to.

“where the hell are we even going?” you asked, pulling your wrist from his tight grasp.

“we are going to mine, need to get my car so i can drive us honey, remember?” katsuki turned back, this time grabbing your hand and interlocking them.

“right” you responded, allowing him to hold your hand. if this was going to be the last day that he would be as in love with you as he is now, might as well indulge a little.

“also, are we gonna be doing the things they were.. um… like the.. you know what, never mind.” katsuki’s face was bright red, he tried to turn his face away to hide how embarrassed he looked.

“what are you- wait.” you cut yourself off once you realised what he was asking.

“are you asking if i’m planning to fuck you?” you smirked, moving closer to his face to get him more flustered.

“no need to be so crass! i just, needed to know if i should get some… things.” katsuki’s face trailed off as he continued to get more shy, speeding away while also keeping his grip on your hands tight.

“such as?” you said, feigning innocence.

“you know what! stop trying to be a smartass and hurry up before we are late.”

“you don’t even know what time we have to be there.” you chuckled in response.

“drive yourself then.” katsuki tried to hide his smile as he let go of your hand.

“ok, ok i’m sorry!” you laughed as you went to grab his hand.

‘this isn’t right’ you thought as you laughed at his jokes on the walk to his house.

‘this isn’t real’ you told yourself as he put his arm around your waist protectively when some guys were eyeing you up.

you constantly reminded yourself that this would never be real, even if he had feelings for you prior to this, your stupid mistake will cost you what could’ve been between the two of you.

from the walk to his house, to getting in his fancy car, to the rode trip conversation that made your flustered through his kind smile and flirtatious banter, there was one phrase that kept you in check from fallling for the fantasy.

this is not real.

#bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha x you #mha texts #mha smau

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genderqueerdykes · 10 hours ago

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Hello, yesterday I tried posting something to you but was met with a lot of setbacks. I'm a trans woman who wants to give her ideas on this trans infighting between trans men and women. Before I start I want to say that one of your prior asks said how porn of trans women was in the "#transmen" - literally the only people I see who see that and actually like it are chasers who don't know any better (or just don't care). It invalidates gender for both trans men AND trans women (I mean if these people were bigender, that's another story but...it's clearly not as I don't think chasers are THAT into trans terminology, we're just "chicks with dicks" or "boys with clits" - if even THAT is the nuance taken). Especially as the hastags on the post are normally anything to do with being trans, including TERF shit. I wanted to reply to that ask but...Tumblr must hate me for some reason. This may be perceived as a "simplistic" take from all the posts and asks but...to start with, I don't think it's right to paint all men as being beneficiaries to patriarchal society. Many of them just aren't. Those who fall down Tate and Incel pipelines aren't secure, thriving men. They're struggling with their own bullshit. Now there are plenty of women who also have little groups that fall into that category (Tradwife and Radfem). We all have the ability to fall down those pipelines though. We all have the ability to be shitty people to eachother (if you're an adult, chances are you ARE someone's "shitty person" in a story). The thing is we need to recognize our similarities over our differences. In some respects...yes I would say we need to do this for said groups I mentioned. It'll probably take years but...I don't see it as impossible (one of my toxic traits is believing people can do better) Also, just a quick note - Trans rights are clearly on the chopping block and will be for the next 4 years. This infighting will ONLY be an easy distraction for that to happen.

thank you so much for stopping by!

tumblr keeps randomly restricting who can and can't respond to my posts. it's not me. i do not watch my posts that closely. i will delete replies and block people if they're being shitheads and i notice it but generally my posts are kind of free reign for people to have discussion on because i literally cannot control everyone who interacts with my blog that would be impossible. thanks for sending an ask though!

Before I start I want to say that one of your prior asks said how porn of trans women was in the "#transmen" - literally the only people I see who see that and actually like it are chasers who don't know any better (or just don't care). It invalidates gender for both trans men AND trans women (I mean if these people were bigender, that's another story but…it's clearly not as I don't think chasers are THAT into trans terminology, we're just "chicks with dicks" or "boys with clits" - if even THAT is the nuance taken). Especially as the hastags on the post are normally anything to do with being trans, including TERF shit. I wanted to reply to that ask but…Tumblr must hate me for some reason.

agreed, wholeheartedly. many people have pointed out it's bots doing this, but it doesn't change the fact that it's very upsetting for anyone to see this kind of thing overwhelming their tags when they're just trying to talk to people and find community. even if it's bots doing this it doesn't change how dysphoric it is to go into a tag for your given gender and feel unrepresented in your own tag, somehow. it's not right.

and i have noticed like. i'm not sex or kink negative. far from it. but it really seems like people do not understand how to appropriately tag fetish content and por n. like it's really getting out of control at this point. i have another ask about this that i'll answer as well. trans sexuality is so important. like so, so important. it's holy, it's beautiful. it shouldn't be censored. however there's a problem with por n and erotica being just about the only text + photo posts in SO many queer tags. people seem to be trying to use tumblr as a queer erotica sight at this point and it's very uncomfortable

what you've mentioned is something i've noticed. it's one thing to have a fetish and to use fetishizing language in a private space but people are not doing a good job of keeping their content out of general queer tags. like the transmasc, trans man, transfem, trans women, butch, lesbian and nonbinary tags really do not need to be this full of por n and erotica, y'all. it's getting out of hand. i'm talking about just the general tags for these things. there are a lot of people wanting to connect with other people who identify this way who do not want to do so sexually or do not have a kink relating to their gender

also nobody really seems to give a shit about asexuals, either, and anyone else who is sex repulsed. it's frustrating as all hell.

i appreciate you for taking the time to send this! thank you very might! i really appreciate your insight!

#asks #feedback #trans women #trans woman #transfem #transfemme #transfeminine

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lonelywretchjervistetch · 2 days ago

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My DC Cinematic Universe - Creature Commandos: Part I - Introduction

In every comic book fanatic...there are two wolves.

There's the first wolf, the purist wolf, who has read all the canon, loves the comic book lore as it stands (no matter how ridiculous it is), and can tell you the unnecessarily complex backstory of that one character that no fully same person knows the backstory of (the Hawks for DC nerds, and any member of the Summers-Grey family for Marvel, for example). But the second wolf, the fan wolf, actively shares those characters and stories they love with other people, and thinks about those characters with its own headcanons and opinions.

Now, unlike the metaphorical inner wolves of normal people, these wolves are fed by external media. And when a comic book fan looks at a character or story they live, especially when its adapted, their wolves feast. The purist wolf feeds on accurately adapted characters, faithful to the page and to what they love to see. Meanwhile, the fan wolf just wants to see the adaptation, regardless of the changes, and loves to talk about it with other people who see it. Now, ideally, every comic book nerd has wolves that they feed in equal measure with books and media, especially if that media adapts comics well.

So, how are my wolves doing?

...Jesus Christ, when did the fan wolf learn how to walk on two legs? And use weaponry? And develop thumbs? And learn Spanish? And speak with the voice of acclaimed character actor Wagnar Moura? Well, shit, he's feeding pretty well as of late. Makes sense, there are a lot of adaptations nowadays, and comic books and associated media are considered mainstream! That means the purist wolf must be

Ah. It's dead.

Well, goddamn it, what the hell? Comic book purists have never really fed well, but it's not like they've been completely starved. As somebody who considers myself pretty flexible in my tolerance of character and story changes between media (different media means different narrative need and format), I often like the changes in adaptations. Plus, there have been plenty of changes that are at least faithful to the original spirit of the characters.

In Marvel, for example, every version of Spider-Man that we've seen in film has at least been faithful to the spirit of the character. Sure, Tobey's version wasn't very funny and created natural webbing, Garfield's version was arguably too cool for school and never said the whole responsibility thing, and Holland's version is way too reliant on other superheroes in his films, but ALL of them are still solid version of the webhead, in my opinion. Plus, hell, Into and Across the Spider-Verse are both more than enough fuel for a comic book purist, even with Shameik Moore's stupid-ass Tweets as of late.

And that's not even counting the Playstation Spider-Man, who's goddamn fantastic (BOTH of them in BOTH games), some of the animated Spider-Men (looking at you, *Spectacular Spider-Man*, unsurprisingly), and even fan-made versions of the character that have made the circulations as of late. Hell, adaptations have been doing better than the FUCKING COMIC BOOKS as of late when it comes to Spider-Man. But, OK, enough about Marvel. Not why I'm here. Just...bear with me, I'll get to the point.

DC has had plenty of faithful adaptations over the years, if not actual straight adaptations that also work all right. Young Justice, of course, is the most recently lauded animated adaptation, while older shows like Batman: The Brave and the Bold, the various shows of the DC Animated Universe (AKA the DCAU or Timmverse), and even more recent fare such as Harley Quinn shows at least an appreciation and familiarity with source material. That last one, admittedly, is a stretch, but Harley Quinn has genuinely surprised me with its attention to faithfulness, and its willingness to be more creative and funny with its alternate versions of classic characters. It was better in earlier seasons, though, just to be clear. But even then...passable.

There's also the animated film adaptations, which haven't been as good as they were in the late 200s and early 2010s, but still have some solid entries. The Crisis on Infinite Earths adaptations weren't perfect, but had their...sparse moments. The Long Halloween was actually quite a good adaptation of the difficult-to-adapt source material, as was Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (even if the TV series did it a little better, although much less accurate). Wonder Woman: Bloodlines is a recent adaptation that's actually VERY good, especially to those who love WW rogues. And if you haven't seen some of the older films, like Justice League: Doom, Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths, Justice League: The New Frontier, Batman: Under the Red Hood, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Batman: Year One, The Death of Superman and Reign of the Supermen, Superman/Batman: Public Enemies, Superman/Batman: Apocalypse, Superman vs. the Elite, All-Star Superman, and Superman: Red Son...uh, yeah, please do, they're all excellent.

But, OK, with all of those adaptations, some as recent as last year, why is the purist feeling so deprived? Well...because the bad FAR outweighs the good, especially as of late. Just talking about DC (because Marvel is a bag of angry, screaming Flerkens), the movies have only given us THREE decent adaptations in the last 5 years: the underrated Blue Beetle, which is a quite accurate iteration of the character; Matt Reeves' The Batman, and the associated The Penguin (which was so afraid of comic books that they changed the main character's name to be "more grounded"), and The Suicide Squad, which is...a fitting film to bring up. Oh, and Birds of Prey doesn't count because it fucked over A LOT of characters, especially Cassandra Cain. Just sayin'.

In terms of TV series, well...Young Justice returned, but kinda fell off in the process for a lot of fans. The CW series, with the exception of the excellent Superman and Lois, are...something for another post. And there is Peacemaker, which is...again, fitting to bring up, but also incredibly complicated, and not beholden to accuracy for various reasons. And anything else...doesn't really rate discussion. Yeah, it hasn't been amazing for DC fans, while Marvel fans were eating pretty well in the last decade-and-a-half. So, imagine our delight and joy upon hearing that the DC cinematic universe would be remade by a bonafide comic book fan who was unafraid of the source material: James Gunn.

With Guardians of the Galaxy, Gunn had already proven he was able to swing and swing BIG when it came to comic book characters, having successfully adapted the titular Guardians, and Ego the Living Planet, of all characters. Yes, he severely fucked up Ronan the Accuser and Adam Warlock (like...REALLY badly), and also kinda Drax, but he also adapted Mantis successfully. FUCKING MANTIS. At the very least, he showed that he was willing to go for it. And then, after the firing-and-rehiring from Disney and being brought onto DC as a result, he made The Suicide Squad.

Understand what a miracle this film is, OK? Gunn makes GotG, it's a massive success, and Warner Bros. and DC notices that. So, they make their own GotG with blackjack and hookers in the form of David Ayers' Suicide Squad, which is TERRIBLE, and seen for the rip-off it was. Then, Gunn's old tweets pop up and he gets fired by Disney, and JUST before he gets rehired, WB swoops in and snags Gunn to revitalize the film series that ripped off HIS film series IN THE FIRST PLACE. AND IT FUCKING WORKS. Not only does Gunn make a GOOD Suicide Squad movie that people actually LIKE, but he also adapts King Shark, Starro the Conqueror, and fucking POLKA-DOT MAN!!! And he gets Jon Cena to play Peacemaker, WHICH LAUNCHES ITS OWN FRANCHISE BY ITSELF!!! And with that, Gunn gets brought on to run the DC cinematic universe as their own Kevin Fiege. FUCKING POLKA DOT MAN??? It's incredible!

...Right?

Like I said, Gunn's The Suicide Squad seems like a miracle. Excellent performance, a lot of cool characters to introduce from the DC Universe, and a crazy-ass showdown that does DC Comics some justice. But, uh...hold on a second. The wolf is still starving over here. Because this film cleverly seems like a miracle. In reality, while Gunn made a fun film to watch, he also severely fucked over comic book nerds in a myriad of different ways with this film, because he set a dangerous precedent, while also continuing an irritating trend that he'd previously helped to promote. That trend? In-name only characters, AKA references for the sake of references.

...Fan-service. Gunn is a master of good-looking fan service.

Look, creative license is great, honestly. It's also incredibly necessary. But Gunn has found a way to put in superficial references that draw in comic book nerds, or the comic-book knowledgeable, while also not really even caring about the source material. Sometimes, it doesn't matter. Polka-Dot Man, AKA Abner Krill, is essentially a joke character that Gunn took and made into an actual character. No comic book nerd gives a SHIT that Polka-Dot Man was a Batman villain from the '60s who committed dot-based crimes, using various special devices and gadgets that he turned into dots that he wore. He's essentially a blank-slate of a character, and Gunn took that and changed it completely, but also made the character memorable and interesting (as did actor David Dastmalchian, of course).

In fact, Gunn did the exact same thing with a whole slew of bit characters in the beginning of the movie. Lemme give you a shortlist of the comic book characters that appear in The Suicide Squad, outside of the main cast of character.

Javelin*,Savant*, Blackguard*, Mongal*, Captain Boomerang*, Weasel**, Thinker*, Kaleidoscope**, Double Down**, Calendar Man**, Ratcatcher*, Starro the Conqueror**, and technically Arm-Fall-Off...Man*. Holy shit, that's a lot of characters! What's that you ask? What do the asterisks mean? Ah, right, sorry, I should explain. Characters with two asterisks have little more than a single brief appearance, just for a quick joke or a "hey look, they're here" appearance. And the single asterisks? Those characters die.

And yeah, OK, it's a "Suicide Squad" movie, death is part of the equation. But look at some of those characters again. Mongal? She's an extraterrestrial conqueror, and the daughter of a major Superman and Green Lantern villain. Definitely could be used better than dying LIKE A PUNK. And why is that character even in Task Force X? Starro the Conqueror? I mean, maybe they pull something off and bring him back for a later film, but that's a WORLD-ENDING THREAT, and a fucking JUSTICE LEAGUE villain! And...wait a second, did Gunn kill CAPTAIN FUCKING BOOMERANG???

One of the most iconic members of EVERY comic book iteration of the Suicide Squad (and therefore a survivor), one of the most iconic members of Flash's Rogues, and one of the only semi-decent things about Ayers' Suicide Squad? You gave Weasel, fucking Weasel, a post-credit scene where he survives the beach massacre, and Boomer is just fucking SHAFTED??? For what can only be assumed is a shitty SHOCK-DEATH? WHAT THE HELL KIND OF DECISION IS THAT???

Look...I actually like The Suicide Squad, I swear. It's a fun film, it is a Suicide Squad movie, and it does a good job with character development and the story of the team. Bloodsport and Peacemaker are great rivals and fun-as-hell characters, Margot Robbie gets a chance to actually shine as Harley Quinn, Ratcatcher and King Shark are great, and the fact that Flag and Polka-Dot Man die is actually genuinely affecting. Plus, shit, they made Starro the Conqueror FUCKING TERRIFYING, especially because he's a big dumpy STARFISH!!! I do like it! But...man, these are some controversial fucking choices, and I've never liked them.

And the big problem now? Gunn is running the DCU.

And again, I don't think that's inherently a bad thing, but...man, it has me worried. Hell, look at Peacemaker. While it was a great showcase for its eponymous character (and Jon Cena is stellar in the role), it introduces two characters that get kinda screwed, while also giving a kind of nothing-burger of a villain. I mean, I love Vigilante in the show, but Adrian was a fucking judge in the comics, not a complete sociopathic moron. Funny, yeah, but not the character. And Judomaster? Damn, did that character get completely shafted. Another in-name-only character, even though he's not a character I've ever been super-devoted to.

My problem is this: if Gunn approaches all of his projects, and the DCU at large, the same way he approached The Suicide Squad and Guardians of the Galaxy, this isn't gonna work. And that's not just in terms of how the characters are written or treated, it's his practices of pumping characters into his films, only to dump them and ruining them for the future of the universe as a whole. I mean, hell, he even did it to Marvel. Ronan the Accuser, Ego, and the High Evolutionary are gone from the MCU, despite being characters of enormous potential. But hey, is this a rational fear, or am I worrying for no reason? Well...cue the trumpets.

Earlier today, I finished watching Gunn's Creature Commandos, having kept up with it throughout the season. And understand, when this film was announced, I was super excited about it! I love the Creature Commandos in concept, and they've had a few incarnations throughout the years. It's a fascinatingly fun idea, and I was looking forward to seeing how the characters were adapted. I had my questions and concerns, especially about the roster, but I was intrigued. And what we got was...well, second after I finished it, I wrote this post. And that has sponsored what you're currently reading. So, uh...I have some notes.

Yeah, this is one of those rare occasions where something has made me SO irrationally frustrated, so very and incredibly irritated, I had to write a goddamn essay series about it. And yeah, this is only the first one of these. Can't help it. I'm kinda pissed off. Because Gunn wasted this team, ruined a fair number of characters for the DCU going forward, eradicated a pile of possibilities, and STILL GOT A SEASON 2 APPROVED FOR THIS SHOW. God, I'm worried. And I gotta tell somebody about it.

So, to the...I dunno, 1 to 5 people who actually read this essay, inclduing those whom I know personally (you know who you are, how ya doin'), thanks for reading and, if you're interested, stay tuned. A lot of unnecessary nerd-whining to come, believe you me. And more than a few headcanons, because I'm giving this the same treatment as my Superman essays. So, yeah, buckle in. It's gonna be a ride.

Part One: Introduction and Adaptation Part Two: The Original Creature Commandos

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