#tw implied future captivity

[serickswrites]

I love your hero x villain stories!

Any way you'd write something about the villain being obsessed with the hero and the hero finds out by breaking into the villains apartment to find pictures of them n whatever else the villain had collected over the years and villain catches hero in their apartment looking at their collection of everything?

Hello, Anon! Absolutely I can write this for you. Do love my yandere characters lol. Please enjoy!

Warnings: yandere villain, implied future captivity, fade to black

Hero decided it was finally time to break into Lair. They had to learn more about Villain. Had to get a better understanding so they could defeat their adversary.

Villain always seemed so prepared. Always showing up when Hero was least expecting them. Always one step of Hero. “How do you do it?” Hero muttered to themself as they began to sneak into Lair.

Hero had carefully planned this raid. Villain was occupied by Superhero across City and wouldn’t be home for hours, leaving Hero plenty of time to break in, gather intel, and get out. And they needed the intel. They needed something to be able to stop Villain.

Nothing could have prepared Hero for what they found in Lair. They found heir missing uniform. They found their favorite mug. And they found picture after picture of them. Pictures of Hero on missions. Pictures of Hero talking to Sidekick. Pictures of Hero helping civilians. Pictures of Hero heading to Base. Pictures of Hero in the park. In the grocery store. In their bed asleep.

“What the—“ Hero stumbled back. This was not what they were expecting at all. They had to get out of there!

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Villain said softly from behind them.

How was Villain here? Superhero said they could keep Villain busy for hours. Hero jumped away from Villain. “You!”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know what you were up to?” Villain shook their head. “Never mind, that’s in the past. What’s important is that you’re here now, with me. Like I’ve been dreaming of.”

“No! Get away from me you sicko!” Hero charged forward, they had to get away.

Villain frowned. “I really wish you’d talk more sweetly to me.” They sighed as Hero started to run towards the door. “I’d really wish you’d realize when you were beaten.”

Just as Hero’s fingers closed on the door handle, Villain wrapped their arms around Hero’s waist and pulled. “UNHAND ME!” Hero screeched as they kicked and strained to reach the door.

Villain sniffed Hero’s hair, inhaling deeply, relishing in having Hero in their arms. “And what about all of this makes you think that I’m going to do that?”

Hero continued to struggle as Villain carried them further into Lair. Just as Hero opened their mouth to scream once more, suddenly everything felt fuzzy. Felt soft and distant. And Hero was fighting a losing battle to keep their eyes open.

“I didn’t want to have to do that, but you left me with no choice,” Villain’s voice seemed a million miles away.

“Nnnnn,” Hero managed to whisper around their heavy tongue.

“Shhhh, sleep. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

As much as Hero raged and fought against unconsciousness, there was nothing they could do. Their last thought before the darkness claimed them was a hope that Superhero would realize what had happened and come save them soon.

[delulustateofmind]

Happy New Year!

Sum: You met a hot girl at the club? What could possibly go wrong.

Yan!Shokohime x Reader

TW: Yandere Behaviors (Drugging, Kidnapping, Obsessive/Possessive actions) Drinking/clubbing scene, Implied future dubcon/noncon, Manipulation, Implied captivity, Utahime might be slightly ooc.

A/n: Not even the lesbians are safe, though I feel like they would be the "kinder" of yandere couples. Stay safe tonight, don't go smooching any strangers at a nightclub (or do I'm not your mom). Seriously though, there are some creepy fellers out there. So be careful pls!

WC: 3.7k

New year, new you. That’s what you’ve always told yourself, especially after another failed relationship. This time, you’ve held back from re-downloading Tinder or even dipping your toes into Hinge—self-control that feels like a small victory. Tonight wasn’t about dating apps or future entanglements, though. Tonight, you were chasing that electric thrill of a New Year’s kiss.

Somewhere across town, Shoko stood in front of a mirror, casually adjusting her scarf with a swift flick of her hand. Her movements were unhurried, almost careless, yet there was a quiet precision in the way she checked her reflection. A faint smirk tugged at her lips as she pulled out a cigarette, the small flare of her lighter briefly illuminating her sharp features. She took a slow drag, exhaling a lazy curl of smoke before glancing over her shoulder.

Behind her, Utahime sat at a vanity, carefully patting serum onto her skin. The soft light cast a warm glow over her, emphasizing the delicate focus she gave her nightly routine. She caught Shoko’s gaze in the mirror, her lips curving into a playful smile.

“Do you always have to smoke before going out?” Utahime teased, her tone carrying a mix of affection and mild exasperation.

Shoko chuckled softly, exhaling a thin stream of smoke as she leaned against the doorframe. “You love it,” she replied, her smirk widening as Utahime rolled her eyes.

“I tolerate it,” Utahime shot back, though her expression softened as she turned to look at Shoko more directly. Her gaze lingered momentarily, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smaller, knowing smile. “Bring us home a new toy, then,” she added, her voice lighter now, teasing but with a trace of longing, as if she didn't accidentally kill the last one.

Shoko stepped closer, the cigarette dangling between her fingers as she bent down to press a kiss to the top of Utahime’s head. “I’ll bring you something good,” she murmured.

Utahime hummed in response, her hand pausing mid-movement as her cheeks flushed faintly. “You’d better,” she said, her voice quieter now as she turned back to the vanity to continue her routine.

Shoko flicked the ash from her cigarette and grabbed her coat, tossing it over her shoulder. As she headed for the door, she glanced back one last time, her smirk softening. “Don’t wait up for me,” she said lightly, though the warmth in her voice betrayed the casualness of her words.

The faint scent of lavender mingled with the sharp tang of cigarette smoke as Shoko’s boots clicked against the floor, the sound fading as she disappeared into the night.

Back at the club, the music pulsed through your veins, the bass rattling your chest and drowning out coherent thought. The flashing lights painted the crowd in fleeting reds and blues, and you let yourself get swept away in the rhythm, your body moving in time with the beat. The presence behind you was just another stranger, a fleeting moment of connection in a sea of anonymity. For tonight, that was enough.

Her scent reached you before her touch—faintly floral, clean and crisp, but with an underlying sharpness that cut through the thick haze of alcohol and sweat. When her hands slid onto your hips, they were firm but not forceful, her touch deliberate.

At first, her movements mirrored yours casually, almost lazily, like she was simply along for the ride. There was no urgency in her actions, just a quiet confidence that made you aware of her presence without demanding your attention.

You glanced over your shoulder, meeting her gaze for the first time. Her dark eyes glinted under the dim lights, carrying a flicker of amusement, as though she’d caught you in a private joke. Her lips curved into a faint, almost lazy grin, and she tilted her head, studying you with detached curiosity.

She leaned in closer, her breath brushing your ear, warm against the chill of the club’s air conditioning. “You always move like this, or is it just tonight?” she murmured, her tone light and teasing, a spark of playful interest coloring her words.

You offered her a coy smile, shrugging as if to say, why not tonight? Her grin widened at your response, her fingers tightening just slightly on your hips as if testing your reaction.

As the song changed, the rhythm between you shifted. Her movements grew less casual, more deliberate, and the teasing glint in her eyes softened into something sharper, more focused. You could feel her attention narrowing on you, the playful indifference melting away as the seconds ticked by.

She moved closer, her body brushing against yours in a way that felt deliberate, her hand sliding around your waist with ease that sent butterflies to form in your stomach, something you haven't felt in ages. “You’re fun,” she said, her voice lower now, though the playful tone lingered at the edges.

Leaning in, her breath brushed your ear, warm and deliberate, sending a slight chill down your body. “Wanna play a drinking game?” she murmured, her voice low and smooth, the kind of tone that promised trouble but was impossible to resist. There was an edge of confidence in her words, one that made it clear she expected you to say yes—like she already knew you would.

You hesitated for a beat, the thrum of the bass and the haze of the moment clouding your better judgment. Her lips were close enough that you could feel the faint vibration of her words..

She pulled back just enough to catch your eyes, her smirk growing wider when she saw your resolve falter. “It’s just a game,” she added, her tone playful, as if teasing a close friend.

There was less than an hour until midnight, and the idea of a game sounded harmless enough. What was the worst that could happen?

“Sure,” you replied, the word barely leaving your lips before her smirk widened. Her hand moved to yours, her hand brushing softly against your skin as her fingers intertwined with yours, firm but easy.

“Good,” she said, straightening and waving for the bartender with an ease that made it seem like this was her world and you were just stepping into it. “Let’s make it a night to remember.”

As the minutes ticked by, so did the shots. Shoko had ordered a bottle without hesitation, the amber liquid catching the erratic flashes of the club lights as she poured with practiced precision. Her movements were deliberate, almost too smooth, like someone who had done this a hundred times before and never needed to think about it.

She barely seemed to drink herself, raising the glass to her lips only occasionally, but her attention never wavered from you. Every so often, her eyes flicked up, catching yours with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. They were dark and glinting with something unreadable, her lazy smirk firmly in place as if she were savoring a private joke you weren’t in on.

Her posture was deceptively relaxed, her chin perched on one hand while the other idly toyed with the rim of her glass. Still, there was an underlying tension in the way she leaned in, close enough for you to feel her presence even over the pounding music.

“Still holding up?” she asked, her voice low and teasing, carrying easily over the thrum of bass. The question was rhetorical, her gaze already sweeping over you as though she were assessing the answer for herself.

The alcohol was working its way through you now, a pleasant warmth blooming in your chest and radiating outward. You nodded, maybe a bit too eagerly, and lifted your glass in a half-hearted toast.

Shoko chuckled, the sound soft but sharp, her smirk deepening. “Good,” she murmured, her tone carrying an edge that made your stomach flip, though you couldn’t quite tell if it was from excitement or unease. “I’d hate for you to tap out before the real fun starts.”

Her eyes lingered on yours a moment too long before she poured another round, the sound of liquid filling the glasses almost too loud against the background of the music. As you took the drink she slid toward you, her fingers brushed yours—brief, but electric, leaving behind a tingling sensation that stayed with you even after you lifted the glass to your lips.

Time became slippery, the minutes blending together as you laughed and talked. Shoko was a master of the moment, her words sharp and clever, her laughter soft and intoxicating. Every story she shared, every question she asked, seemed perfectly timed to keep your attention locked on her. Even when others approached—strangers offering drinks, compliments, or invitations—her focus remained on you. It was as if they didn’t exist, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you. The kind of person that makes you feel special. Feel wanted.

As midnight crept closer, she leaned in again, her breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “One more shot, yeah?” she murmured, her voice low and smooth, carrying just enough weight to feel like a suggestion and a command all at once. “To ring in the new year.”

You nodded without hesitation, your thoughts fuzzy from the alcohol and the magnetic pull of her presence. She poured the final drink with the same practiced precision as before, her movements smooth and unhurried. Her hand brushed yours as she slid the glass across the table, the brief contact sending an electric jolt up your arm.

The shot burned less this time, the bitterness barely registering as the warmth spread through your chest. Shoko’s gaze never left you, her smirk sharpening as you placed the empty glass on the table.

“Midnight’s almost here,” she said, her voice light but carrying an undercurrent of anticipation. She straightened, holding out her hand.

Her eyes glinted under the dim lights as her fingers curled slightly, beckoning you forward. “Let’s get a better view,” she added keeping it casual. As if she was someone you could trust, like an old friend.

You hesitated for only a moment before taking her hand, the warmth of her touch grounding you even as your surroundings continued to blur. Her grip was firm but not forceful, the presence steady as she guided you through the crowd.

The press of bodies felt overwhelming as Shoko guided you through the crowd of people. All the glitter, the lights, and the noise seemed to all blur together, the environment felt more intoxicating than the alcohol. You followed her without question, the cool air of the balcony hitting your skin like a shock as she led you to the railing overlooking the dance floor.

Shoko stood close—too close—her arm brushing against yours as she leaned casually on the railing. The cool night air wrapped around you both, a sharp contrast to the heat of the club below. She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, her smirk softening into something almost fond, though it was impossible to tell if it was genuine or another layer of her charm.

“You know,” she began, her voice quieter now, nearly lost beneath the muffled thrum of music, “this is my favorite part of the night. The moment right before everything changes.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication, though their meaning was just out of reach. You opened your mouth to ask, confusion flickering across your face, but the crowd below erupted into the familiar rhythm of a countdown.

“Ten!”

Shoko turned to face you fully, her dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. They no longer held the casual, sultry amusement from earlier but were softer now, filled with something that almost resembled affection. The only thing you could think of was that she was really pretty and that the world seemed to spin.

“Nine!”

She reached up, her fingers brushing against your temple as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was gentle, lingering just long enough to send your pulse racing. When was the last time you felt like this?

“Eight!”

Her smile deepened, the curve of her lips walking the line between comforting and unsettling. There was a flicker of something unspoken behind it, something dangerously close to lovesick.

“Seven!”

“I’m glad I found you tonight,” she murmured, her tone low and intimate, each word dripping with a tenderness that felt out of place. Something felt off but all you could muster was a sweet drunken giggle as you leaned closer.

“Six!”

Her hand shifted, reaching for the table behind her where the final shot sat waiting. She picked up the glass, her movements deliberate yet unhurried. “One last drink,” she said, her tone light, though the glint in her eyes betrayed a deeper intent. She tipped the glass back, the amber liquid vanishing in one smooth motion.

“Five!”

As she set the empty glass down, her free hand slipped into her pocket, her fingers brushing over something unseen. Her smirk returned, sharper now, as her gaze never left yours.

“Four!”

She stepped closer, her proximity almost suffocating. Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin with a gentleness that you couldn't help but lean into. Maybe you'll get lucky?

“Three!”

“Don’t look so nervous,” she teased softly, her grin widening. Her other hand raised the empty glass, her movements casual but calculated. Unnoticed by you, she slipped something small from her mouth onto her tongue, the motion so fluid it looked like nothing more than playful mischief.

“Two!”

Her fingers tilted your chin upward, forcing your gaze to lock onto hers. Her breath was warm against your lips, the club lights flashing behind her in a chaotic dance of color. The world narrowed to just her, the overwhelming pull of her presence silencing every rational thought.

“One!”

Shoko leaned in, her lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was soft yet commanding, the weight of it impossible to resist. The warmth of her mouth sent a chill down your spine, but there was a faint bitterness on her lips that you dismissed as the aftertaste of alcohol. Her hand tightened ever so slightly on your cheek, anchoring you in the moment as the cheers of the crowd erupted in the background, distant and irrelevant.

When she pulled back, her smirk returned, sharper than before, her dark eyes glinting with a satisfaction that sent a chill down your spine.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered, her voice smooth and final, sealing the moment with a sense of inevitability.

You smiled weakly, a giddy warmth spreading through you—until that warmth shifted after a few mere moments, your limbs suddenly feeling heavy. The sounds of the crowd and the fireworks dimmed as your vision blurred slightly, a dizzy haze settling over you.

Shoko’s hand remained steady on your waist, her touch grounding you even as your body betrayed you. “Feeling alright?” she asked, her tone remained casual, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression.

You tried to respond, but the words came out slurred, your legs wobbling beneath you. Shoko clicked her tongue softly, pulling you close against her chest. “Guess that last drink hit a little harder than you thought,” she murmured, her voice smooth and soothing as she gently guided you away from the railing.

The world tilted as Shoko wrapped an arm around you, her grip firm and unyielding. “Don’t worry,” she cooed, her lips brushing against your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

The world outside the club blurred as Shoko supported your increasingly unsteady frame, her arm firmly wrapped around your waist. The cool night air prickled your skin, but the haze in your mind made it hard to care. Shoko hummed softly, her voice low and almost melodic as she guided you down the dimly lit streets.

“Almost there,” she murmured, her tone soothing but laced with something that felt off—a quiet satisfaction you couldn’t quite place.

Your eyelids felt heavy, and your feet dragged against the pavement, but Shoko’s grip didn’t falter. Her strength was surprising, and she moved with an ease that suggested she’d done this before. The sound of her boots clicking against the sidewalk became a steady rhythm, almost hypnotic in your dazed state.

When you finally blinked your eyes open, you found yourself in an unfamiliar apartment. The warm lighting contrasted sharply with the cold street you had just left behind. The scent of lavender and something faintly floral filled the air, calming yet unsettling in its unfamiliarity.

“Oh, Shoko,” the voice rang out, bright and giddy, “you’ve outdone yourself this time. She’s perfect.”

Utahime’s face came into view, her smile wide and gleaming with excitement as she crouched beside you. Her hands cupped your face, her thumbs brushing your cheeks with a tenderness that only made your chest tighten.

“Poor thing,” she cooed, tilting her head as she examined you. “She looks so scared.”

Shoko chuckled from somewhere above you, her tone light and unbothered. “She should be. Not everyone gets this lucky. It really is a scary world out there.”

Utahime’s fingers trailed through your hair, the touch almost reverent as she leaned closer. “You’re lucky, you know,” she murmured, her tone soft but with an edge of something unhinged. “Shoko never lets me top, but you’ll let me, won’t you?” Her voice cracked slightly, her excitement spilling over. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

Her words clawed at the edges of your consciousness, and you tried to shake your head, to push her away, but your body refused to obey. Your lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a broken, slurred sound.

Utahime let out a delighted laugh, the sound light and almost musical, though there was an unsettling edge to it. She clapped her hands together softly, her excitement bubbling over as her eyes stayed locked on you. “Oh, listen to her! She’s already perfect. So pliant, so sweet,” she cooed, her voice dripping with affection that felt both maternal and predatory.

She turned to Shoko, her expression bright, her excitement uncontained. “You never disappoint me,” she added, her tone carrying a mix of genuine admiration and playful teasing, as if she were indulging a partner who always exceeded expectations.

Shoko smirked from where she leaned lazily against the couch, her posture relaxed, but her sharp eyes didn’t stray from you. There was something calculating in the way she watched, as if she were cataloging every movement, every reaction.

“Of course I don’t,” she replied simply, her voice low and casual, but there was a possessive undertone in her words that made the air feel heavier. She turned her gaze briefly to Utahime, her smirk softening into something just shy of tender. “Have to keep my girl happy,” she added, the words rolling off her tongue with an easy confidence that left no room for doubt.

Utahime’s smile widened, cheeks flushing faintly as she looked back at you. “Oh, she does,” she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. Her fingers brushed lightly against your arm, her touch gentle but deliberate. You were at least thankful that she kept things PG. “You’re going to be so good for us, aren’t you?”

Shoko chuckled softly, the sound low and almost amused as she pushed off the couch. “She doesn’t really have a choice,” she murmured, her tone casual but laced with finality, the weight of her words settling like a stone in your chest.

Utahime returned her focus to you, her fingers brushing another strand of hair from your face with an almost mocking tenderness. Her grin softened into something warm, nearly maternal, though there was an unsettling edge to how she looked at you—like she’d found something fragile and precious to protect or break.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against your ear. Her voice was almost too sweet, dripping with the promise of care that felt more like a trap. “You don’t have to think anymore. We’ll take care of everything. You’ll never be alone again.”

A tear slid down your cheek, unbidden and confusing. Was it fear? Resignation? Or the sickly sweetness of her words that sent a wave of despair crashing over you? The emotions tangled together, impossible to separate, impossible to escape.

Utahime caught the tear with her thumb, her expression softening further into what could almost be pity. She sighed softly, tilting her head. “Oh, darling,” she murmured, her voice gentle but threaded with mock sympathy. “Don’t cry. This is the start of something beautiful.”

Her arms wrapped around you, cradling your head against her chest like a child, her hold both suffocating and unrelenting. The warmth of her body contrasted with the icy chill that had settled in your core.

Your chest tightened as the haze from the alcohol—or whatever else was coursing through your system—wrapped around your mind like a fog. Your thoughts slowed, dragged down into the growing void, even as panic screamed at you from somewhere deep inside.

Shoko moved closer, crouching beside you with an easy grace. Her fingers traced along your jawline, her touch grounding you in a way that only deepened your helplessness. You couldn't help the pathetic whine that escaped your throat.

“You can stop fighting now,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing, though her words felt like iron bars snapping shut around you. “It’s not like you can go back.”

The room felt smaller, the warmth suffocating as it closed in around you. Your vision blurred further, edges melting into the background, and the soft hum of their voices became the only thing tethering you to consciousness.

You wanted to move, to run, to pull away, but your body refused to obey. Every attempt at resistance sank beneath the weight of the haze pulling you deeper, trapping you in their grasp.

The last thing you saw was Utahime’s grin, wide and alight with unrestrained joy. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned in close, her words soft but final:

“You’re ours now, darling.”

Darkness closed in, heavy and absolute, but Shoko’s voice sliced through it, smooth and deliberate:

“Happy New Year.”

[sadboytournament]

FINAL ROUND

Propaganda

Jean Discole: (Via @mistresshasty; tw kidnapping)

Saw his parents kidnapped. Violently. Then he was left alone with his kid brother to report this to the police when he's all of 8yo. This man's name isn't even Jean Descole. Descole is an alter ego for his other alter ego, Desmond Sycamore. Why? Because he GAVE HIS NAME AWAY to his younger brother so said younger brother could be adopted in his place after their parents were kidnapped. Like legit, people came and said they could only adopt one kid and Descole straight up said, yup, my kid brother, this is Hershel, not me, nope (shut up Theo, you're Hershel now.)

Then fast forward to adulthood where he's finally healing some of the Trauma, only for his wife and daughter to die mysteriously (though its heavily implied it was by the same people who kidnapped his parents.) Then, as he's getting his revenge on that organization, guess what? The leader is his long lost father who went crazy after his wife (Descole's mom) died in captivity. Descole has 0 chill because he has had 0 breaks in life.

Oh, and one last kick in the face. The titular character of the series, and Descole's arch nemesis, Professor Layton, yeah, that's the kid brother Descole gave up his future for. He deserves to be a dramatic bitch. He's earned it.

Lockwood:

[urbestestwindgod]

tw for discussion of rape and all and a hot take i guess

ok i dont rlly like to get serious or anything on this blog but i just wanted to mention that even if it was left up for interpretation if calypso raped odysseus or not, the stuff she still does isnt okay. like she still holds him captive, she still harasses and tries to coerce him after knowing that he is married and doesnt want her. she holds him captive KNOWING IT MAKES HIM SUICIDAL. thats not haha girly things that called being an abuser. yes, holding someone captive and trying to manipulate them out of suicide (as opposed to support them) is abusive.

i know she has a pretty voice but like, did you think jorge would cast a random untrained smoker from an opium den to play her so we know that this isnt a good character? and also you can compliment people’s designs of calypso without being ok with rape, because its just a design, but when its “shes my wifey” and “ii love her” its suddenly not like any other epic villain simping because the thing is she isnt a god sinking his ships or lighting bolting his crew to death; shes sexually abusing him (i am also not going to debate if sexual harassment is different from sexual abuse because its not. even if she never raped him she was still trying to coerce him and harassed him; which is abusive)

if there’s anything i dont fuck with its sexual misconduct. rape, harassment, abuse, all of it. dont give me that shit. the only thing that irritates me more than “haha id dropkick that child in self defense” is any victim blaming or pro rape statement that i displeasurably have to hear. like back to “her voice is so pretty” or just “shes so pretty” hey yea thats what most male rape victims are told. that she was so hot though, so he must have liked it. shes not “just a girl” shes an abuser.

now i know people where a little peeved that jorge removed rape from the circe saga; but i think its reasonable why he did. the epic community is very connected and always has memes for the situations odysseus is in. which, when its haha his friend was killed by a cyclops, or his crew was killed by an angry father, or his men where turned to pigs, or haha hes sad at whatever fantastical situation hes put in; we can laugh at it. because not only is it not real because its a story, but also no one has ever been through that. no ones ever faced off a cyclops in a cave before.

but people have been raped. men have been raped and heard the whole “shes so pretty and sweet thoo”. thats real. and with the circe saga jay knew that putting in rape, so early in too, that it wouldn’t be a plotpoint that fit in because that isnt an epic misfortune they face! thats a real situation; not the men to pigs and sea witch stuff, but being pressured and coerced into sleeping with someone? that is a real situation that real people are put in.

and i know male sexual assaults are iffy to people somehow. so lets say that a woman was in odysseus’ place and circe/calypso were men. does that make it worse? because both are bad. i dont fuck with rape towards ANYONE. regardless of gender, i dont think in 2024 we still should be debating is men can be raped

but back to jorge; i think he was brave for making love in paradise go how it did. i think even implying rape was a brave choice for the musical; especially with a very unserious and jokey fandom (not saying its not also serious but still) but even if you interpret that calypso never touched him. in the odyssey she did, and how tf do you LIKE a character who in the source material was a rapist? shes not “allowed to do bad” shes not “just a girl” shes a predator, and idn something about seeing her get support despite that reminds me of people like my uncle, my brother, my friend’s stepdad, a classmate or two. my uncle being able to have a restaurant, my brother having “a bright future” a certain classmate who got a girl pregnant and then went on to go to prep school. while she carried a child from a random guy in another state. you can support and joke about poseidon from epic and all, but when you start talking about calypso the same way you aren’t invalidating odysseus because hes not real. but you are invalidating countless real life victims.

and these are bold words from someone who isnt even mad about zeus of all people, because i know the culture he was from and i know that he was a metaphor/symbol to said culture. but the odyssey was a story with characters who survived by virtue of extending past that cultural bias. i can pull away from the odyssey as a piece of its time and understand that calypso wasnt probably seen as a rapist back then because the term didnt apply, but as a character i hate her like i hate theseus

and i know calypso was technically a goddess but that didnt mean much for her except immortality and being able to sexually abuse better. she wasnt worshipped (to my knowledge?) or exactly metaphorical. and epic is a modern retelling; so modern standards apply; shes a predator. i wont be taking any counter points because like i said dont do me with that shit

tl;dr your support for fictional rapists extends to what real victims have gone through, and check your lust because backing up every pretty voice/face is a rape culture classic

also im not saying that if you like calypso youre a pro rape asshole, dont think that. but i am saying youre not helping anyone and more hurting than anything by treating a character who is a sexual abuser like just another fantasy villain

[aeligsido]

[WM] Prompt 3 — Dark fic.

Rating: M to be safe.

TW: kidnapping, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, kind of forced relationship and captivity (at least implied for the future).

Characters: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black; mentions of James Potter.

Additional Tags: dark Sirius Black, Slytherin Sirius Black, first war against Voldemort, good friend James for what we have of it.

Summary: Remus wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.

Words count: 767.

A/N: -wave hand- enjoy, I guess ❤️

@wolfstarmicrofic

—

Remus wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. He’s wearing only a shirt that isn’t his and his pants, which isn’t exactly that reassuring; when he moves, he feels a strange weight around his wrists, and finds there some sort of padded cuffs we've never seen before. They’re not tied together, but it’s still worrying, and his mind is scrambling trying to parse what happened to land him in this situation.

He was on a mission, maybe? He’s not sure about this part — but he was ambushed by a group of Death Eaters, and he wouldn’t have gotten away if not for the help of an unlikely source. Black — the eldest son — had appeared out of nowhere and saved him in the nick of time. He has never officially joined Voldemort as far as anyone is aware, but still his presence was surprising.

Without him, Remus would be dead — which is quite strange, as they’ve never been close during their school years. Sirius has been a Slytherin, like the rest of his family before and after him, and if he has struck an unlikely-kind-of-friendship with James, the same can’t be said for the two of them. Even his relationship with James has fizzled out during their fifth year, which his friend has always been cagey about; he did say, back then, that Sirius is fun and smart but maybe it doesn’t mean he’s a good person. Remus has only been around the Slytherin the few times he helped James with pranks, during classes, and those times they had class projects together — but that’s not enough to know someone.

Sirius saved Remus, still. He sighs, sits up on the bed — he’s still missing something, so what happened next?

They ran, perhaps. Knowing himself, he thanked his savior — he must have been grateful. Sirius has always been an intense person — he was looking at him, smirking—

The voice, soft and deadly like a poison, comes back to him at once.

“Oh, I know exactly what prize I'm getting out of it.”

And then Remus blushes despite himself, because Sirius had caged him against a nearby wall and kissed him, and he let him, and he liked it—

And then he wasn’t holding his wand anymore, and Sirius had apparated them away, and Remus must have passed out at some point because he doesn’t remember anything beyond, well. Beyond being kissed and kidnapped, apparently.

“Shit,” he swears out loud in the silent room; as if to answer, the door opens to let Sirius in.

He’s still absurdly (and unfairly) handsome, smiling almost softly at him while holding a tray of delicious looking breakfast food.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, satisfied. The tray goes on a bed, just beside Remus, but he doesn’t dare touch it; Sirius almost scoffs at his hesitance. “It’s not poisoned.”

“Where am I?” he asks instead of keeping up with this line of discussion.

“Home,” answers Sirius simply — as if it is this simple.

“Why?”

“Why what? You should eat, you’re skinny.”

“Why am I here?” He tries not to feel flustered by the attention, he does, but Remus is probably just doomed on that front.

“Ah.” Sirius is looking at him, still so intense it almost makes Remus shiver. “This.” He hums a bit, and then grins, wide and smug and proud and a bit concerning at the corners, too. “Well, see, I was always wondering how it was to have a pet werewolf — for some reasons, James didn’t seem happy when we talked about it that one time.”

… It does actually explain the bit of overprotectiveness James sometimes has.

“But,” continues Sirius, suddenly much closer to him, and Remus backs off as far as he can, up until he’s pressed against the wall and wishing the bed to be larger. “I specifically wanted it to be you.”

“I’m not a pet,” he dumbly mutters, and Sirius laughs.

“Maybe not. Let’s settle on boyfriend for now, then.”

A noise comes out of Remus’ throat, surprised and confused and a million other complicated emotions he can’t parse through yet, because Sirius is already on him and kissing him again. He’s everywhere, lips on his lips and tongue in his mouth and hands on his hips and in his hair, tugging and caressing and holding him, and Remus is frozen in place and unable to do anything.

And as suddenly as he was there, Sirius is gone; he’s back on his feet, almost at the door still wide open’ eyes shining in satisfaction.

“Eat up now, darling.”

The door silently closes behind him.

Remus is royally fucked.

[inkblot22]

Circle

Kalim has a gorilla grip on my heart rn please excuse me. This is supposed to be a Floyd headcanons post but I found this in my drive and finished it because I got possessed. Not very long, but hopefully enjoyable.

TW for captivity, implied kidnapping, enabling behaviors, accidental injury, love bombing if you squint, poor Jamil being an indentured servant.

He's overly doting. 

Before this, you wouldn't have thought that this was a thing. You would have continued living your life believing that no one could ever have been so fond of you as Kalim.

And he would posit that you were correct. It was a cosmic event, he said. From the minute you gently encouraged him, he said he was head over heels. 

You're just unsure of one thing: does Kalim love you, or does Kalim love the idea of you? 

He's an awful measure of his own strength. He leaves a mess of bruises trailed along your skin from touches that he deems as gentle, but he always apologizes profusely once he notices them. Sure, it takes him eons to actually notice that he's hurt you. Sure, you're literally chained to his bed with Jamil as your only other confidant.

But really, he says he loves you. He treats you like you’re made of gold, he dotes upon you like no other.

During one of his visits, because he can’t always be with you, unfortunately for him, you mentioned in passing how you liked to drink iced tea when it was hot like this. It’s always hot in this part of Scarabia. You try not to think about the cold part too much, or the nights. You’d think about that later, and besides, it isn’t as relevant as the casks upon casks of iced tea that Kalim produced not even three hours later. 

Jamil looked pissed. When he was putting ointment on your irritated ankle later on, you asked him about it, and he scoffed.

“You asked for it. Why are you asking me about it?”

“What? No I didn’t. I just told him that when I was a kid, I used to drink iced tea on the balcony of our apartment when it was… oh… oh no.”

Jamil stood, cupping your cheek and offering you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Kalim doesn’t think about things like you and I. He heard that you liked iced tea and he got you iced tea. If you don’t want this to repeat in the future,” Jamil leaned towards your ear, voice lowering with a venomous spike, “choose your words carefully.”

You hadn’t told Kalim any more childhood stories after that. Jamil didn’t seem as irritated, either. 

But a gift and his generally sweet nature doesn’t mean that he actually loves you. 

During a different visit, while Jamil was looking over a bruise that looked especially bad, you voiced this concern aloud. 

“Does Kalim actually care at all?”

“Believe me, if I spent my time pondering questions as inane as that, I’d have gray hairs. Try not to think about it too much.”

You stopped talking to Jamil as candidly after that. He was something of an enabler, either that or he didn’t really care about your well being in Kalim’s care.

And really, Kalim’s care was Jamil’s care, and Jamil’s care centered around keeping Kalim out of trouble, and as long as he was around you, Kalim wasn’t in any real danger, not with you in the state you were in. So of course it was in Jamil’s best interest to keep you stupid and isolated and lightly battered from Kalim’s ministrations and affections.

But you couldn’t help yourself from wondering why he was so doting. Did he like you, or the idea of you?

[wooglebear]

I made Esther, Mariana, and Rosalie's future selves along with a bonus OC.

TW: Child abuse, captivity, and implied transphobia

Estherdroid is basically Cy-Eleanor's daughter.

For why she's a mess, once, her chestnut hair was that beautiful color.

For why she's a mess, once, her chestnut hair was that beautiful color.

After her mother's tragic accident, Future!Esther was kidnapped by Cy-Eleanor and turned into a cyborg, too.

Estherdroid spent months in Cy-Eleanor's lab, during which she had to submit to abuse in exchange for food and water. Estherdroid couldn't face making the exchange, and, you know about that trope of "character's hair starts to prematurely grey out bc of a disease/injury"? That's what happened to her.

On five separate occasions, Cy-Eleanor was scolded by her boyfriend Melvinborg, who found the treatment of her daughter abhorrent.

Estherdroid is as evil as her mother, though her past causes her to hold back. By the way, the red flower was given to her by Melvinborg.

What Future!Esther looked like preborg. As you can see, she went from a meek girl to an outgoing, friendly and assertive individual during college. She was thrilled when she was asked to officially open Piqua's library, and be its librarian. She had a belief that all librarians should not wear glasses. And she wants everyone to be happy with their favorite books...

Or so it seemed, until the whole thing with their mother happened.

This here is a vengeful Future!Mariana. Unlike Rosalie, Mariana knows of the tragic tale of her sister who poked around where she wasn't wanted and paid an awful price. She knows a bit of archery, and she now wants revenge against Cy-Eleanor. The scar is from Cy-Eleanor by the way. After all, the girls’ mom is transphobic at times. College means new hairband. Also, trans colored clothes :)

Unlike Mariana, Rosalie is unaware of her ill fated sister. She's having fun chilling in college, with an art degree. She doesn't know how evil Cy-Eleanor is. In her eyes, she's Evil Cyborg Mom and she definitely has NPD (Cy-Eleanor doesn't). She did consider dating Melvinborg back when he was out of the hospital, regardless of age gap. They had a thing going for like, maybe a day or two. She broke up with Melvinborg because she was sick of that spoiled, entitled brat of a cyborg!

Clare has no future self.

So have her frenemy in college, a British Exchange student, that goes by the name of Harriet Brown. You'll get a digital cookie if you correctly guess where I drew inspiration from.

Harriet is a teen who is completely and erroneously convinced that she's a real witch. She also likes to wear very witch like outfits (most of them in pastel colors). She's also a bit evil and michevious. Harriet's wicked ways have such a reputation that she's also known as the Forest Witch in reference to her tendency to hang out in the woods and larp in her own corner of the playground, jokingly saying she can warp reality, call forth lightning storms upon her foes, shield herself from harm with a forcefield, and summon the spirits of her ancestors for guidance and wisdom, among other things. Rumor has it that she tortures people. Harriet denies these rumors. As she puts it, Clare may think they're treating her poorly by putting her in the villain role, "demonizing" her even. Clare has a love-hate relationship with Harriet. But Harriet may be a bit cocky, she's a good college student at heart. This is why we barely see any of her at first, then she becomes a supporting character. She ships Yewh x Lavatore.

[auroragehenna]

No matter how much you squirm you won‘t get out ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friendly chat

CW/TW: Posessive Whumper, fantasy whump, implied family issues, implied fantasy drugs, magic exploitation, Word count: 1'363

Electra summoned Harmonia to one of the living rooms today. Harmonia doesn’t know why; she can’t remember doing anything wrong. At least nothing Electra knows about, besides, there’s never torture in the living rooms. Still, she‘s worried as she follows the two maids through the halls. They never talk to her. Barely look at her. And when they do their gaze is full of scorn. When Harmonia arrives in the living room Electra awaits her in an armchair.

“Sit, doll.”, she orders and points to a little stool diagonal from her chair.

Harmonia gives the stool a look, a glint of disgust hushes over her face and promptly the familiar pain erupts on her torso. But she still sits down.

“How are you, my doll?”

“I am fine. Aside from you know, getting held captive and getting everything taken away from me.”

Electra gave her a cold look and watched as Harmonia twitched and clasped her hand around her shoulder where no doubt the lightning pattern grew again, cutting itself into her marble-like skin. “I would like to get to know you better, doll. So why don’t we talk while you make yourself useful, hm. I hope for your sake that you have practised as I ordered you.”

“I did, Ma’am.”

“Good. Then don’t make me ask twice.”

“Of course not, Ma’am!” Harmonia lowered her head and her gaze started to glaze over. It sickened her to the core to address the demoness like that. To obey whatever she said. To be used this way. But she figured she could mostly stay out of trouble if she went along with it. If she played her part convincingly enough she might just be able to fly under the radar and avoid becoming like the others she sometimes caught a glimpse of. Broken. It worked well so far. Mostly.

Before she could really zone out Electra snapped her fingers in front of her Angel’s face. She flinched and looked back up to her with wide eyes. “Don’t you dare try to ever.hide yourself from me, doll, do you understand!?”

“Understood, I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

Harmonia’s gaze glazed over again and soon enough her eyes started to shimmer. A few moments later brilliant tears started to trickle down her face, filling the room with dancing beams and rainbows. She picked up a vial from the floor next to her and started to carefully collect the tears in that vail.

“Tell me about your heritage.”, Electra’s voice sounded from the armchair diagonally above her.

With a deep breath, Harmonia obeyed: “I was born in Paradisio, coming from a family of low nobility. I made a mistake, messed up my future and they disowned me.

“What mistake?”

“So you know how in noble society there’s always those fancy, pretentious, parties? Yeah, whenever I could, I avoided going there. More often though I had no choice in the matter. And one of those times it happened. I was paying my duty and talking to these peacocks as one of them, a higher rank, approached me. He started harassing me, talking down to me and downright provoking me. I was tyring my best to stay calm but…- “

“You obviously failed.”

Harmonia threw a sarcastic look at the demoness, figuring that the pain was worth it. “Yes. I did. I snapped and I…poured my beverage over his wings.

For the first time in her storytelling, Harmonia gives off a hint of embarrassment.

“You did what now?! Wow. You really have no idea of respect, but nothing to worry about, I will eradicate that. It’s a miracle really that they only shamed and disowned you. Why did you stay in Paradisio?”

Harmonia tried to ignore the threat the demoness dropped so casually and focus on her answer instead. “Where else should I have gone? I don’t know anything else. Thus, I stayed and had to make a living for myself. Even if we were only lowly high-born my parents insisted on a high-standard education for me and my siblings. Thus, I had skills in multiple different branches. But even with that I couldn’t really find a place for myself. That’s how I ended up finding more…unconventional jobs. Finally, I had something I was good at! And I stayed doing that, working for a lot of different people until I ended up here.”

“So, every choice you made, led you to me. Can’t you see? It was supposed to be like this.”

“Oh, get fucked…Ma’am.” She caught another tear in the vial. “Great job Harmonia. That’s staying under the radar.”

Electra’s gaze hardened, but she knew her curse mark was already doing its job punishing her. Instead, she just bowed forward in her armchair, supporting her head in one hand. “Angels are hilarious you know. Though I have to say you aren’t the funniest one.”

“Wow.” Harmonia cocked an eyebrow. “Did you decide to change your game from threatening me to insulting me?”

“Oh no, doll, that wasn’t an insult. You may not be funny, but you’re…intriguing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“For example, for an angel, you swear an awful lot. And you’re wings why are they brown?”

“With all due respect, Ma’am. I’ve already been disowned, shamed, and now captured, why would I still try to refrain from things like swearing? (I have no clue why her wings are brown?)”

“I suppose you’re right. Though you’d do good to remember to hold your tongue here, doll. And just so we’re also clear on that, I will not accept such behaviour as with your higher ranks. Now, the loss of your family, how did that make you feel?”

“I-It hurt of course. Still does a bit. But I’ve come to realise that I don’t want somebody as a family who would cut their loved one off that easily. I made it on my own. Somehow.“ Harmonia collected a last tear and pushed the cork onto the vail.

Well, you’d be a shitty Morningstar. But…there might be something else. Electra thought to herself. „Yes, you did. You had found a place for yourself. Somewhere where you finally…belonged. Right?“, her voice had imperceptibly gotten a luring undertone.

„I…Yes, Ma‘am.“

Electra sighs. „Doll, what did we say happens when you lie to me?“

Harmonia flinched and avoided the demoness‘ eyes until the pain of the marks forced her to look back at her. „…I never really felt like I belonged, Ma‘am. I always felt a bit…lost I suppose. Like…- “

„-Like you didn‘t have a purpose?“, Electra finished her angel‘s sentence. For the pieces finally fell into place. Harmonia just looked at her, not daring to say another word and visibly uncomfortable with the vulnerability this information caused. She sat back in her armchair and looked at Harmonia. „You had a purpose, a life ahead of you as a fair noble lady. Even if you didn’t like it, it gave you structure and identity. But then all of a sudden it got ripped away and you were left to fend for yourself. Always alone. Never right.“ She noticed her angel‘s wings lowering and had to suppress a triumphant grin. „Harmonia you don‘t have to feel like that anymore. I know all of this feels like a curse to you. And it hurts. But it only hurts because you resist. How can you be so sure that this isn‘t what you were supposed to do? We already established that every step you took brought you here, to me. And I took you in, I am giving you my time to help you learn and soon it won‘t hurt anymore. If you just comply, you will see it too. This is where you belong, this is your home.“

Harmonia didn‘t find words but the demoness didn‘t look like she expected a response. She took the vial, opened it, and pulled out a sterile syringe.

„You can go back to your quarters; it is late and you should sleep.“

„Of course, Ma‘am.“, Harmonia managed, she got up on tingling legs and hurried back to her quarters. Once there she rolled herself in front of the fireplace and fell asleep, the woman‘s words repeating in her mind.

Introduction post series! Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @imnotamurdereripromise

[kidelune]

TW: Mature themes, death, violence, blood, all that jazz. Read at your own discretion.

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine (1/2), nine (2/2)

Let all the vile and suppurating venoms of the night spit in the eyes of God and blind her to our evil.

[Breaking News (31 October, 2023): Notorious drug ring gang members arrested en masse after a major brawl breaks out near Incheon Port in broad daylight]

[30–31 October, 2023. Somewhere between Yongsan and Incheon]

Have you seen the news going around on the 31st? Do you recall the full context of the coverage articles? Let me jog your memory for you: written by an obviously politically motivated prick, spreading bullshit about violent gang members, mass arrest, and body counts. Then something else about a notoriously wanted drug ring leader turning up dead a few hours after, his leaked identity shocking the general public into an instant uproar. Yeah, I mean that news, something about... trouble, trouble, and more trouble.

Was not my cup of tea in general as you would imagine, at least not that abysmal holier-than-thou attitude it'd been written with. But I can't deny that the evidence was still all there. And as per usual, it made the population anxious. What the president of a well known major corp. being the mafia all along implied for the rest was that any thriving day-to-day establishment they adored so much could also have been sponsored by the 'bad guys'. Any neighbor or relative a pawn to other men and women who would reach all horrifying ends with their lives to get what they wanted. This allows me another chance at reminding you, though, that crime organizations have always been deeply ingrained in our society, even more than they are today. It's just a matter of getting caught at the wrong moment and having no connections to back yourself up with.

I'd been heavily medicated and asleep when it all first blew up in the early morning. Didn't even notice my body being dragged from one room to another and finally laid to rest, despite all the excruciating aches and sores I'd earned during the many hours spent in captivity. My dad had to read it to me twelve hours later, twelve hours of the final escalations and then de-escalations of the day before being real and strictly unrefuted. I didn't somehow dream it all up. It was real how all it took was one night for more of my old friends to end up dead. My boss had been killed on his own turf, the drug ring he'd lead for most of his life and the life of his father before him crippled beyond repair. A legacy left behind to rot on the bloodied doorsteps of history. Finally, scores I've taken part in rousing all these years have been settled and I was allowed to walk free. Everybody lost, everybody won. But at what cost?

My dad had been caught by the same people who had me in their custody, tied at the same joints I was and thrown around along with some other guys on our side. They'd recognized him, though, and news of him being at large again spread far and wide enough in the ranks to reach my ear within an hour or so, if I had to make a guess. We didn't even catch him, I heard them whisper behind my back, he came and purposely gave himself up. He'd been pretty roughed up, and I could tell for sure by just looking at him, though it wasn't nearly as bad a hand as the one I'd been dealt.

"They were afraid. And they didn't exactly know what I wanted, though it was obvious," pops had said after I asked him why. "I could tell. They were perplexed and afraid". Even after all these years and secure layers of thick rope, they were still afraid of Kim Junseo. They had not washed the blood off my back the night before. Not until after I'd heard of my father's presence, almost a day later. I wonder what they'd say now if they were to see him in the kitchen, humming around a cigarette while he cooks dinner in an apron.

I do wonder if Yunho had heard he was here, too, and what his presence meant in terms of the future. Did he linger on purpose? Is that why he'd disappeared entirely?

As for me, the abrupt news of my father's captivity had shocked me so profoundly I think I had slipped into some sort of comatose state for a while. I swear I couldn't breathe nor feel the pain of my injuries ripping apart all the sinews in my back, thighs and arms with every miniscule movement. I could only stare at the ground and hold in my mouth a tongue that felt far too large for it, and a desperate series of pleads and cries that may get me burnt again. He was so close yet so far away from me. Was supposed to be in Kyoto. Was supposed to be far away from all of this. And yet he was there, and with him came an opportunity the syndicate would've never again gotten. A bone made of gold for the wildest dog.

They struck the deal with me over the phone as though they knew they had hardly any time left to relay the message, let alone come in personally to slap or carve it into me. A man whose voice I scarcely recognized growled to me, and I quote, "It's either you and your father's lives, or Lee Gun-pyo's life. Two piglets to a boar. We let you go, you take us to him. Kill him, and you and your father will never hear from us again." Later, my father would tell me that he leads the Reds.

I said only—or rather croaked, "Yes."

And only truly felt the sheer gravity of that choice after waking up to my pops beside me the next day. After seeing my partner for the first time in two eternities. Only then could I finally grasp at and understand the one and truest meaning of my life. Love so hard that it kills you.

They let me go just shy after our location had finally been leaked. Bound, still, though, I couldn't run even from myself. Only talk, for the lives I intended to save. This had been my bone, and I no other choice but to chew on it blindly while it was still intact and mine to bury. I've recently been such a bad dog to my owner, anyway. Give a dog a bone and he'll find his way home.

We got there sometime past twelve in the morning when they finally began to untie me. It's was a really small and narrow 떡볶이 restaurant cornering two empty streets, and was often empty. I knew the area and place very little, except that it was ran by the unfortunate mother of a man who'd passed away serving Gun-pyo years ago. I believe he was their sponsor. Before, I had been there only twice to eat and then exchange information for pay and new tasks with the same one man that sat inside every time. October 30th would it's last day in business for a really, really long time. If only the food had been any good.

Now, I don't want any of this to read as though I'm an innocent saint that harbored not even a fraction of desire to kill my patron myself. Believe me, the size of my desire had grown fucking behemoth at this point. I was thirsty to bite off the same hands that had been feeding me scraps all my life. That's how bad of a dog I was, and still am. I don't even consider myself a victim at this point. It's just karma. I might even forgo surgery and instead bear these scars on my back for the rest of my life, as I already do the rest.

What particulars I had against this was that me gutting my patron with kitchen scissors that night had not been a choice I'd decided on by my own terms. My hands, breaking the law and fixing another all at once, were forced, the fighting a brutal blur in time, and my back fucking ached. I was hanging by a thread exhausted and tattered to such awful degrees that I'm sitting here now, writing this and considering the fact that I'd been one of the only survivors alive in the end to be a complete miracle. The van had been full when we arrived on location, and left only with three in the end.

I'd just killed a man, I thought. Before he slipped out of my grip he managed to grab my shirt sleeve with what had been the last of his strength, looked up at me and said, "I should've put you down when I had the chance."

I hadn't been able to register it in the chaos of the moment back then, but as I think of his eyes now I can trace back no hatred in the brittle frost of them on me, despite his words. He'd made me into the dog that I am now, after all. He knew all along that this day would come for the both of us. So I killed him and simultaneously, part of myself, knowing that it would've, too.

Give a dog a bone and he will bury it.

[spritehouse]

ShortMC's Whumptober 2023 Scrapped Scenes (pt. 1)

(Shorter) Scenes, dialogue, etc. that didn't make it into a final draft

Putting these here because I might use some of my ideas in the future (+ I like using this color scheme) All word counts are for me because I like knowing

Please heed the trigger warnings before every section

The aftermath of I’m Getting Desperate (losing my mind):

Prompt: "Make it stop" (no. 3 Ralvez | 59 words | I originally planned to extend the story into parts of the aftermath/Luke's recovery from the events of the fic

Luke blinks, looking up from his lap at their fingers interlock.

“Real?” he whispers, eyes wide, wondering if this is another cruel joke his mind is playing on him.

“Real,” Spencer nods, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand, the gesture tugging at the corner of the older man’s mouth—the closest he gets to smiling these days. “I’m real, Luke; I’m here.”

Spencer having a panic attack (I don't have a title)

Prompt: Shaking (alt for no. 4) 142 words

⚠️TW: panic attack & self-harm (scratching)

He’s shaking.

Spencer’s hands won’t stop shaking, folding his fumbling fingers together in an attempt to quell the anxious electricity buzzing beneath his skin.

He can’t breathe, gasping and gulping for air, dry sobs shaking his shoulders.

It won’t stop. He needs it to stop.

 It won’t stop.

He waves his hands, shaking them out, hoping to release some of the energy bubbling, burning through his body, digging his nails into his forearms and dragging them through his skin when that doesn’t work.

Deleted scene from The Sky is Overcast (I’m sorry):

Prompts: "You're a liar" (no. 9) + "You said you'd never leave" (no. 10) + Goodbye Note Ralvez | 46 words | Luke was originally going to give Spencer the note & imply that there would be another one if he died while he was gone.

“This–” Luke holds up an envelope, his partner’s name written on the front.

“Luke, no–”

“–this is for you, cariño.”

“–Luke, please don’t do this–”

“There’s another one, in case I–” He swallows, finally making eye contact with Spencer. “You’ll get it if the time comes–”

A single scrapped line from Wide Awake, Spiraling:

Prompts: Captivity (no. 11) + Insomnia (no. 12) Ralvez | 25 words | In which I actually use the word from one of the prompts instead of making them implied

⚠️TW: vaguely referenced (past) unhealthy relationship

He’s her captive, still trapped by a cage of claws around his memories, even if he isn’t still in her grasp; there’s no escaping her.

Scrapped Scenes from I Can’t Hide From You (like I hide from myself):

Prompts: Infection (no. 13) + "Just hold on" (no. 14) + "I'm fine" (no. 15) Ralvez | 101 words | One line where Emily & Luke worry + Spencer telling Penelope to call Luke

Emily glances at Luke when Spencer isn’t looking, eyes filled with worry, and the younger agent responds with a nod, exchanging an unspoken “I’ll take care of it.”

“Reid? Boy wonder? Can you hear me? What’s going on?”

“Pen... I need... need Luke…”

“Oh my god, Spencer– What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

“I don’t... don’t feel too good.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay! I’m calling Luke right now and getting an ambulance to your location, 187. just hang on.”

“M’kay…”

“Garcia? What’s–”

“Luke, Spencer’s on the line and he says he isn’t feeling well.”

“Cariño? Spence, can you hear me?”

“Mhm... here…”

Spencer gets shot.

Prompts: "I don't feel so good"/Infection (no. 13) + "Just hold on" (no. 14) + Makeshift Bandages (no.15) Moreid | 324 words | Spencer gets shot (again) & EMTs can't get to his location quick enough

The average speed of a bullet fired from a typical muzzle is approximately 2,700 feet per second.

“Reid?”

That’s 900 yards per second; a bullet fired from 25 yards away will hit its target in about 0.03 seconds.

“REID!”

The average human reaction time to visual stimuli is around 0.25 seconds.

“SPENCER!”

He will be 0.22 seconds too late.

“REID!”

Derek fires once, twice before the younger agent hits the ground, head hitting something with a sickening crack.

“Spencer!”

He doesn’t waste time on the unsub, one of his bullets hitting him square in the forehead, rushing to Spencer’s side instead.

“Come on, Pretty Boy. Look at me,” Derek kneels beside the younger brunette, hand instinctively moving to the wound on the back of his head, blood soaking Spencer’s hair and more seeping through his shirt. “Look at me, Pretty Boy. Show me those beautiful eyes.”

Spencer’s eyelids flutter, heal lolling to the side with a soft groan.

“Derek?”

“Right here, kid. Look at me.”

The younger agent pries his eyes open, gaze hazy and unfocused, finding Derek.

“There you are, Spence. Keep looking at me.”

“‘M bleeding...” He murmurs, eyelids drooping as shaking fingers weakly find the wound in his side. “Gotta stop the bleeding...”

“Yeah, got it, Pretty Boy.” Derek nods, forcing himself to focus, assessing as if he’s holding some stranger, not his best friend, before taking off his jacket and pressing it against the injury, drawing a sharp inhale from the younger brunette.

“It takes three to five minutes to bleed out from a gunshot wound... a person can lose up to 40% of their blood volume without dying, which is about 2 liters of blood–”

Derek wants to cut him off, tell him that isn’t going to happen, that he isn’t going to die, but talking means he’s still awake, that genius brain still calculating, crunching the numbers, gears turning, and alive, so he doesn’t.

Scrapped Scenes from Please Hurry, Leave Me (I can’t breathe):

Prompts: Drugging (alt for no. 16) + Touch Aversion (no. 17) + Tortured for Information (no. 18) Ralvez | 113 words | Luke trying to talk to Spencer/help him after Hankel

“Spencer, I understand you’ve been through something traumatic–”

“Stop! Stop talking to me like I’m a victim!”

Luke sighs, lowering his hands and leaning back in his chair.

“Okay.”

The younger brunette watches him for a beat, waiting for his boyfriend to speak.

“Okay..?”

“Okay, we’re going to sit here until you’re ready to talk because we’re not going home until you let me help you.”

Spencer frowns, fumbling with the cuffs of his sleeves

+

“Spencer, I understand you’ve been through something traumatic–”

“Stop! Stop talking to me like I’m a victim!”

You are, Luke wants to argue, but he knows better, he knows that it’ll only make Spencer close himself off more.

Total Word Count (only this post): 810

Check out my complete Whumptober 2023 Masterlist here!

[serickswrites]

Miss Me? III

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: captivity, restraints, implied future torture, head ache, referenced drugging

Whumpee's head was pounding. It felt as though someone had shoved an ice pick in their left eye and smacked the back of their head with a baseball back. Their mouth felt full of cotton and they couldn't move.

"Easy, easy, Whumpee," Whumper's gentle voice came from nearby.

Whumpee wrenched their eyes open, not caring that the light was painfully blinding. Their heart pounded in their chest as they realized this was not some fever dream from a migraine. This was real. Whumper was alive. Whumper had drugged them. Whumper had kidnapped them. Again.

Whumper chuckled. "Yes, Whumpee, this is real."

"Please," Whumpee said, their tongue clumsy in their mouth. Whether that was a result of the drugs in their system or that they had been unconscious for a very long time, they weren't sure. It didn't matter. If they didn't convince Whumper to let them go, the torture would resume until someone rescued them.

"Please, what? Let you go? Come on, Whumpee, we both know that I won't be doing that." Whumper cupped Whumpee's cheek. Whumpee flinched back, pulling tightly on their restraints.

"No," Whumper smiled, "no, I'm going to take my time with you. Last time wasn't long enough. It was rushed. And we didn't get to enjoy the finish, did we now, Whumpee?"

"Please," Whumpee sobbed. They couldn't endure this. They couldn't go through this again. They had to stop Whumper. Someone had to find them.

"I'm going to enjoy rebreaking you, Whumpee. And then I'm going to enjoy doing all the things I didn't get a chance to do last time."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @morning-star-whump

@writing-i-like-dump @whumpy-wyrms @freefallingup13 @danberu @milktea-academia

@genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ccieatchildren @whumpitisthen @j-is-evil-28 @gottawhumptheblorbo

@venomdoeswhump @thelazywitchphotographer @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe @pepeniascat

[what-if-i-just-did]

Writing Masterpost

Triggers should be on the posts themselves, but if I missed anything, please tell me! If you want me to write something, or you want to ask my oc's a question, or whatever, just send me an ask! And don't be shy about it, cause I really love getting asks, especially for writing stuff. Also this is my AO3- go check it out!

Fanfics (SPN)

August Destiel Prompt List -just a thing I did

9/11 SPN thing -what where the boys doing during 9/11?

"You're home" -a Destiel fix-it in honour of 5 nov

Whumpcember 2023 Masterpost -31 whump prompts for Team Free Will

Finally - Home -a minific about Dean and Cas' first kiss

Dean's Vows -what it says on the label

This Broken Angel With His Shotgun -Human!Cas gets drunk and listens to a song. Angsty

Series

Guilt & Revenge -Whump story, happy ending, multiple whumpers, OC's

Whump

Recaptured Whumpee Drabble -Magical whump, found family and post apocalypse world in one drabble

Bubble Water Whump -Autistic whumpee drabble

It gets better -Caretaker and Whumpee becomes Whumpee and Whumpee

Information Source -A person with superpowers goes a little crazy due to corrupt superheroes

Guilt & Revenge Masterlist -OC whumpee gets abducted by kids he used to bully and tortured. Includes a captivity and a recovery arc

Divine & Demonic -Emotional whump with biblical themes, a fallen angel love story

Exhibit -Gift fanfic for @melpomenelamusa's Chimera series, go check that out!

The Immoral Man & The Immortal Man -a sadistic murderer found an immortal guy, but perhaps he's unwittingly broken the man...

"Humans are weird"

These don't all play in the exact same universe, eventhough they have some of the same OC's. There also isn't really a timeline or whatever.

Sight Guide Masterlist -An abandoned continuing story inspired by Superior Eyesight

Aliens & Neurodivergents -What it says on the box

Sometimes Less Is More (+ the person who asked for it) -Bringing a gun to a laser fight

Superior Eyesight (and the neurodivergent side) -What if humans could be invisible?

Body Language: Contradictory -An alien tries to learn human bodylanguage

Expressions -An alien is confused at hearing humans talk

Horrifying Defense Mechanisms -Just act crazy. Aliens don't like crazy humans

We Will, We Will, Rock You! -When you're bored but you can pop culture

How To Write X / Writing Tips

Bilingual Characters

Realistic Future Names

Other?

Werewolf Drabble Thing -How to become a werewolf

Please don't tell me I'm a prophet -Meeting an Angel

He's Not The Villain -When you get abducted so often the heroes stop caring

His Blue Eyes -Two sentence drabble

The Fairy's Forrest -A fairy tale about a little girl, a witch, and a fairy

The Demon & The Child -A woman summons a demon to take care of her child as she leaves for work

Favors from the Afterlife -a ghost follows her friend around

Nuri drabble -drabble of a series in the works. The series will be whump but this is just fluff

A Little Girl -immortal short story inspired by a pinterest post

We, Us, Our, Ourself -two nameless characters from opposing sides accidentally become One

Meet 'n Greet / Meeting Your Heroes -two part superhero paranormal story with implied future romance

Non-Fiction

I remember -An open letter to my ex, but there's so many trigger warnings seriously.

What I can -Me having various emotions about how fucked society is and how I make a difference

She's Puking -Short drabble about my relationship to puking through the years. Mind the tw's

[sadboytournament]

ROUND THREE

Propaganda

Astarion Ancunin: (tw mentions of enslavement, sexual coercion, and description of torture) Spent 200 years enslaved by a vampire lord as his spawn eho horrifically tortured him the whole time, including carving a ritual circle into his back. Forced to seduce and sleep with prople to bring the vampire lord new victims, and was only able to escape because he was kidnapped by mindflayers. Is left incredibly traumatized and is in the beginning stages of recovery by the end of the game

Jean Discole: (Via @mistresshasty; tw kidnapping)

Saw his parents kidnapped. Violently. Then he was left alone with his kid brother to report this to the police when he's all of 8yo. This man's name isn't even Jean Descole. Descole is an alter ego for his other alter ego, Desmond Sycamore. Why? Because he GAVE HIS NAME AWAY to his younger brother so said younger brother could be adopted in his place after their parents were kidnapped. Like legit, people came and said they could only adopt one kid and Descole straight up said, yup, my kid brother, this is Hershel, not me, nope (shut up Theo, you're Hershel now.)

Then fast forward to adulthood where he's finally healing some of the Trauma, only for his wife and daughter to die mysteriously (though its heavily implied it was by the same people who kidnapped his parents.) Then, as he's getting his revenge on that organization, guess what? The leader is his long lost father who went crazy after his wife (Descole's mom) died in captivity. Descole has 0 chill because he has had 0 breaks in life.

Oh, and one last kick in the face. The titular character of the series, and Descole's arch nemesis, Professor Layton, yeah, that's the kid brother Descole gave up his future for. He deserves to be a dramatic bitch. He's earned it.

[heroic-endeavors]

The Girl That Leaped - Part I

tw: implied suicide tw: attempted murder tw: muder Pairing: Dabi x Mirai Owari [OC] Implied.

Dabi had been wandering a nearby city having nothing better to do. He’d eventually notice a brown haired woman staring vacantly at what looked to have been an abandoned building. He had nearly passed her when she spoke. “Human trafficking. If I report it I wonder who’d come.” Her muttering that made him stop in his tracks.

Then she snapped out from her trance to look at him with a shocked look on her face. Before he could ask she ran towards the building then proceeded to leap in though the window. Dabi ran after setting the place on fire as the unknown woman quickly got the captives to safety.

He had left before heroes could arrive.

He’d later see her standing on the edge of a cliff by a waterfall. “It’s you again.” She said without turning. “I’m guessing you’re wondering why I’m here of all place.” Though he didn’t respond she kept talking. “My parents decided to sell me off. A quirk marriage even though it’s become taboo. All because I can sometimes see the future.”

Before he could say anything she began falling forward. He ran forward to attempt to stop her from falling but he ended up falling with her. Both would hit the water at the same time. Once able to he’d get her out from the water. Luckily she was still alive.

She opened her eyes, dark green eyes that looked almost lifeless. The same look as... “Are you okay?” He asked after a moment. She nodded, “I had a feeling I wasn’t going to die. Not yet.” He signed somewhat annoyed, “There is a hotel not too far off.”

The two of them would walk together. The woman leading him to a small cottage. When they entered she went to the counter. “Hi, I have a reservation for two under the name Makoto Izumi.” Dabi raised an eyebrow. Just she can see the future. The woman behind the counter nodded, “We’ll have your food ready shortly.” She was given a pair of keys.

They silently made their way to the room. There was a package waiting for them. She unpacked it digging out spare clothes for the both of them as well as some hygiene stuff like soap and shampoo.

“You can see quite a bit huh?” He asked as he watched. She nodded, “I actually could have been a hero. If my family didn’t try to sabotage me. As silly as it might sound, but I actually looked up to Endeavor.” She pulled a small doll from her luggage. He didn’t notice that was there too. “Heard those dolls are pretty cheap,” Dabi commented trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. She nodded, “That’s the only reason I have one. Mom said All Might was too expensive.”

When she went into the shower Dabi out of boredom decided to look though her wallet. He’d feel some surprised to see her name was actually Mirai Owari. Guess she might be running away from her future marriage and using a fake name. He didn’t blame her. He set the wallet back down. The door opened a moment later.

He found himself transfixed on her. She stood there in night clothes but there was some allure. “I take it you’ve already seen my real name, right?” He looked back at the wallet, “It’s okay. I would have told you eventually. I made up the name I used to throw off anyone who could be tracking me.”

When a knocking came from the door Mirai went to answer it. A server came in with a cart with dinner for the two of them. “I hope curry is okay.” She said smiling. He gave a nod, “It’s fine.”

A week in that hotel room Mirai would soon be smiling brightly. Her once lifeless eyes seem to have taken a shine. But eventually that shine would face. An enraged man would eventually kick the door down followed by an older man and woman. All looking angry.

“How dare you run off with this deep-fried looking asshole!” The man growled, “I paid good money to have you! If I can’t have you, NO ONE CAN!” He said pulling out a dagger and punching it into her torso. She had a look of surprise before falling to the floor before him.

In a fit of rage the three of them are instantly set on fire. A moment later be picked her up from the ground and then picking up her plush before bringing her outside. A moment the entire cabin was up in flames. He looked up in time to see a somewhat bright light in the distance. Looks like the fire got the attention of Endeavor.

Deabi nearly ran off, but figured he better cauterize the wound first. As he did she spoke in a weak voice. “You won’t be alone.” she managed to mutter before losing consciousness. He ran off before Endeavor had arrived at the scene. He’d attempt to get any other survivors out. Which he does luckily get the employees out alive.

“Mirai... you won’t be forgotten.” Dabi muttered before leaving.

To be continued.

[aeligsido]

[MASTERLIST] Wolfstar Microfics, July 2024 edition.

for @wolfstarmicrofic

AO3.

Prompt 1 — Western. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 2 — Thriller. [Rating: T; TW: stalking, implied kidnapping.]

Prompt 3 — Dark fic. [Rating: M; TW: kidnapping, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, kind of forced relationship and captivity (at least implied for the future).]

Prompt 4 — Monsters. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 5 — Whump. [Rating: T; TW: blood, injury.]

Prompt 6 — Suspense. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 7 — Soulmates. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 8 — Teenagers. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 9 — Hurt/Comfort. [Rating: T; TW: minor character death.]

Prompt 10 — Pen pals. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 11 —Over 30 years old. [Rating: G; TW: mention of alcohol.]

Prompt 12 — Recovery. [Rating: T; TW: past character death.]

Prompt 13 — Supernatural. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 14 — Secret Identity. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 15 — Afterlife. [Rating: T; TW: major character death.]

Prompt 16 — Crime fic. [Rating: T; TW: mention of murder (very light).]

Prompt 17 — Slice of life. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 18 — Illness. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 19 — Fairytale. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 20 — Hurt/no comfort. [Rating: T; TW: major character death, implied suicide.]

Prompt 21 — Drama. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 22 — Grief/Mourning. [Rating: T; TW: character deaths.]

Prompt 23 — Rescue. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 24 — Kid fic. [Rating: G; TW: Snape being is delightful self.]

Prompt 25 — Angst. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 26 — Sickfic. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 27 — Fix-It. [Rating: T; TW: war and its consequences on the survivors.]

Prompt 28 — Outsider POV. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 29 — Crack Fic. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 30 — Missing Scene. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 31 — Fluff. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

-

I cleaned up the fics for AO3 so there's less spelling mistakes and so on over here. I'll keep it the way it is on Tumblr bc shame doesn't have a hold on me.

Also, if I need to remove the @ do tell me plz ksksjsk

It was fun to do, I'll definitely do it again ❤️

[kim-poce]

Halloween

CW: implied future torture, long term captivity, knife.

=-=

In the small, all white call he had no way to track the days, there was no clock on the wall, no significant change of temperature, no talk about the outside world. Nothing.

Except for a single day in the year.

“Hello, darling!” Whumper said as they walked in, they were holding a knife and wearing a white apron stained with blood, seeing them like this was normal, but usually the blood is Whumpee's. “Missed me?”

Whumpee nodded. Adding an imaginary tally to his probably not accurate captivity calendar. 5 years, it's the fifth Halloween he goes through inside this cell of nothingness. Another anniversary in his miserable life.

“Smile dear!” Whumper said, “It's a happy day!”

“Yes. I'm sorry,” Whumpee said, swallowing hard, trying not to fix his eyes on the knife.

It was Halloween, the one day in the year he had to track time and the day in the year Whumper's torture was she worst.

=-=