#what if it was the metal pipe falling sound effect

[cocksley-and-catapult]

I think c&c occasionally kiss with tongue, but it’s always accompanied in universe by the vine boom sound, and so the reason you don’t show us this happening is it would lack the full impact in a text based medium.

[lovelybucky1]

Better Than Revenge

Kinktober Day 7- Fear Play

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT- noncon, kidnapping, violence, drugging, mentions of sexual assault, revenge porn, non-consensual picture taking, stalking, forced breeding, blackmail, AFAB!reader, bondage, humiliation, pain play, degradation, vaginal fingering, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, 18+ minors DNI

kinktober masterlist

main masterlist

You enjoyed your time at college. You made many new friends, partied, joined clubs, and learned a little along the way. It was fun for a freshly eighteen-year-old, but by the time the end of your senior year came, you were ready to move on to adult life. Since then, you don’t think about college much in your daily life. Your college friends are now just your friends, and your better days are still to come, not behind you.

That’s not to say you never think fondly back on a memory or two here and there, but you’re so busy with your job at the DA’s office that you don’t have time to be hung up on the past. Others, you’ve found, do still live in the past.

Dr. Jonathan Crane, the chief psychiatrist at Arkham took notice of you when you first started working for the DA. Crane was not well-liked by your boss, seeing as he always managed a way to get the criminals you were trying to put behind bars an insanity plea. While he was a frustrating legal enemy, you never had anything to do with the man outside of the courtroom, or so you thought.

After a long day of court and debating with Crane, you were walking home from the office late when a metal pipe cracked over your head and you fell to the wet pavement, out cold. When you woke, you found yourself in a damp, cold warehouse with Dr. Crane looking on from a chair, dressed in a lab coat. Fear spikes in your stomach when you see the man in front of you. Being in your position, there’s only one explanation for why he would be here as well, though you can’t imagine why.

You are bound and gagged; your arms are wrenched in an uncomfortable position above your head and your wrists are tied to a chain from the ceiling. Your mouth is covered with duct tape, effectively suppressing any screams. Your toes just barely touch the floor, which puts a horrible strain on your arms, but there is no use fighting against the bonds.

When Crane notices you regain consciousness, he stands from his chair and approaches you. He gets close to your face and looks into your slightly hazy and unfocused eyes, his own piercing ones making you tremble under his gaze.

“Don’t struggle, you’ll hurt yourself,” he says, voice eerily soothing for a kidnapper. “You know, it’s dangerous for a girl like you to walk alone at night. This city’s a dangerous place, you never know what kind of creeps could be lurking in the shadows.”

He grins a sick, vile grin that makes your skin crawl. Crane reaches out and tips your chin up with his cold pointer finger. He moves your face from side to side, examining you, checking for any damage he might have done. His thumb traces the duct tape over your mouth, finding the seam of your lips and touching you like a doll.

“I’m surprised you’ve kept your looks with how you used to party,” he says casually. You furrow your brows in confusion but you’re unable to question him. “Though I’m sure your liver isn’t what it used to be.”

Before you can ponder his words, Crane walks behind you and you can hear the sound of metal tools clattering together. When he reappears, he is holding a pair of sheers and wears a sadistic smirk. He roughly grabs the hem of your blouse and cuts it up the middle, exposing your bra. He then cuts the fabric of the sleeves so the garment falls to the floor, leaving you topless.

You want to fight back to get this sick creep off of you, but you figure it’s best not to provoke the man with scissors against your skin. Instead, you’re subjected to his eyes ogling you.

“What a thing to wear to work,” he says, amused. “I’m sure this can’t be comfortable. Were you wearing it for an occasion?” he asks, fingers tracing the delicate lace of the band. “Surely not a date. I know you don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t think you’re the type of girl to put out on the first date.”

You wonder how he could know you don’t have a boyfriend when the realization hits you. He knew what path you took on your way home, he knew what time you’d be leaving the office, and he knew details of your private life that you haven’t shared with anyone but your friends. He’s been stalking you.

“Maybe you had other plans for lunch with your boss this afternoon. Dent is quite the looker, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. What his poor wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” he asks with a smirk. “You really haven't changed.” You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’re not sure what any of this means.

Crane then moves the sheers to the hem of your skirt and makes a small cut. Instead of cutting all the way up like he did with your blouse, he drops the scissors, grasps the skirt, and starts to slowly tear it. The sound of the fabric ripping is deafening in the near-silent warehouse, and fear threatens to rise in your throat as he creeps up your thigh. His eyes watch the exposed skin intently as he undresses you, clearly gaining some kind of pleasure from this. When he reaches the top, he lets the skirt fall at your feet and now has an unobstructed view of your matching underwear set.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “what a surprise. I guess you did have big plans.”

He slips his finger underneath the elastic band of your panties and snaps them back against your hip, making you jump. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps from the cold air and you squirm as you try in vain to hide yourself.

“You don’t mind if I look under these, do you?” he asks, tugging on your panties again.

Up to this point, you haven’t protested, figuring it was better to cooperate, but you can’t let him violate you like this. You let out a muffled “no” and violently shake your head as you try to move away from his touch. Crane only laughs and moves closer to you. You kick him in the knee and he curses, but it doesn’t do much to deter him.

“You can’t fight me off. All you’re doing is making this worse for yourself,” he hisses. You try to scream, but with the duct tape sealing your lips, it’s no use. “Do you have something to say?”

You plead with your eyes and he reaches up to grasp the edge of the duct tape, but he takes it as an opportunity to be more cruel. He rips the tape from your lips, surely taking skin with it.

“Help!” you scream, “Somebody help me!”

Instead of ordering you to be quiet or suppressing your screams, Crane just laughs.

“Scream all you want, no one’s going to hear you. Not like anyone would care if the world was down one useless bimbo anyway.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to me?” you shout, your throat feeling raw from the strain.

Anger flashes in Crane’s eyes and his jaw clenches. You continue to thrash and scream, and despite what he said about no one caring, he tightly grabs your waist and steps on your foot to keep you from moving. His face is now only inches from yours and you get the idea to spit into his face. It won’t do much, but it’s the only thing you can do to deter him.

Crane hisses and lets go of your waist to wipe the spit out of his eyes, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are glassy and his dark eyelashes are clumped together.

“You fucking bitch,” he bites. “You’re lucky I haven’t hurt you yet.”

The vague threat does frighten you, but you have many questions that you demand answers to.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me, Crane?” you ask again.

He laughs bitterly. “Of course you don’t know. You probably have no clue what you’ve done to me. The hell you put me through.”

He leans his weight on the foot crushing yours and when you wince, he grabs your jaw tightly, squishing your cheeks together and forcing your mouth open.

“I don’t know,” you say as best you can.

“You don’t remember college?” he asks. “Your sorority sisters and their fucking jock boyfriends tormenting me. How for years you made my life a living hell just for existing outside of your perfect little bubble.”

His face is twisted into a snarl now as he recounts the memories that drove him to his actions tonight. “I thought the bullying would be over when I got to college but it was so much worse. My door would get vandalized every fucking day with insults and crude images. You and your group of whores spread all kinds of rumors that I was crazy. You said I was a psychopath, a pervert, a sadistic killer who got off on seeing women in fear. Everyone believed it. Everyone.”

As he explained his story, your memory was jogged. You remember a short, skinny guy from college who wore thick-framed glasses and carried a satchel to class. He was awkward, made uncomfortable eye contact, and often made himself the target of ridicule. He had a vast knowledge of science and medicine and was very interested in the mind’s reaction to fear. You never knew his name, only ever referring to him as “Peeping Tom”, which was kind in comparison to some of your friends’ nicknames for him.

“I was an outcast for four fucking years. I couldn’t transfer, I couldn’t afford any other school. Not like you could ever understand that. I accepted that I was a social pariah, but then you went and ruined my fucking life even more,” he hisses.

You didn’t notice the knife in his hand until the point was against your chest, too lost in his rage-filled eyes. You now remember more of what he’s saying and you want to apologize and assure him that you’ve changed, but he seems past the point of reason.

“October 2nd, 1997. I was in my room studying for an exam when you showed up at my door. You were clearly drunk and you came onto me. You promised me all kinds of things and pushed me onto my bed and sat on my lap. You kissed me and took off my shirt, then put your hand down my pants and took my dick out. That’s when your hoard of sluts and every guy you’ve ever fucked barged into my room and took pictures. They spread them to everyone, and it was all because of you.” he hissed. “I was labeled the creep, the predator, the pathetic virgin who thought he could make it with a sorority girl and it was all your fault.”

The man in front of you was shaking with anger, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted the memory. The blade trembled in his hand and dug slightly into your skin, but the pain from the knife was overpowered by the icy feeling of fear.

“Jonathan,” you say meekly, “That was almost a decade ago. I-I’m so sorry I did that to you, I don’t even remember it. I promise I’ve changed.”

“You don’t remember it, that’s exactly why I have to do this. You’re never going to forget again.”

You whimper in fear as he brings the knife up to your neck. The blade bites at your skin, catching when you take a breath.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper with your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. That’d be such a waste of a warm hole.”

His words are disgusting and degrading. They make you want to shiver out of your own skin and run as far away from him as possible. Luckily, he removes the knife from your neck and takes a small step back.

Crane reaches into his pants pocket and takes out a small digital camera. Your eyes widen when you see it, immediately catching on to what he plans to do to you. He powers the camera on and points it at you, smiling when he sees your pixilated form on the display. He clicks the shutter and a light flashes.

He lowers the camera from his face to reveal a wicked smirk. "It doesn't feel too good, does it?" he asks. "Well it's about to get a lot worse for you."

He kicks your bare ankle with his foot, making you wince as your legs spread. He laughs cruelly and does the same to the other foot. Your legs are open uncomfortably, giving him easy access to what you're desperate to hide from him.

His fingers, long and cold, push through your folds and into your cunt without warning or preparation. He fingers you despite being dry to start, but you slowly get wetter in response to the intrusion.

"Still such a slut even after all this time," he says. "I'm not surprised you're so loose."

He fingers you roughly, seemingly unsure of how to do it, or maybe he just cares that little for your comfort. His nails catch on the ridges inside of you and the poking of his fingers scissoring make you wince. Thankfully he got his fill of that quickly, and pulled out his wet fingers.

He brings them to his nose to sniff, then wipes your wetness off on his pants. "Smells like whore," he says.

Without any further words, Crane reaches down and grabs you by your ankle and pulls it off the floor. You yelp as you lose your balance and your bonds tug on your shoulders. Crane then hooks your foot on a strap that also comes from the ceiling. He then does the same to your other leg.

Now you're suspended in the air, cunt on display for him and helpless. Crane takes out the camera again and takes more pictures of you spread out.

"I have waited so long for this."

Crane wears a sick, wicked grin that does not falter as stands between your spread legs. His hands work his fly open and quickly he frees his cock. It's already hard and the flushed tip is leaking, just from the torture he's inflicting onto you.

"I knew after that night that you would be my first," he says as he rubs his head through your folds. "Weather you wanted to be or not."

Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes into you bare. He goes slow, likely for his own sake so he doesn’t cum too soon, but whatever mercy he shows you doesn’t provide any comfort.

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he begins to rut. Erratic, inexperienced thrusts to chase his own pleasure inside of being conscientious of yours. His eyes are half lidded and laser-focused on your breasts.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

With each thrust, the makeshift sex swing he has you in rocks, making the chains that hold you creak. You worry that you’re going to fall, but you suppose that would be better than a knife in your gut.

Crane’s cock bumps against your cervix which makes you whimper from the discomfort, but he thinks it’s out of pleasure.

“You like that? You like taking my cock like a fucking fleshlight? Didn’t think you’d be so easy, but I guess all it took back then was a spot on the football team to get into your pants.”

Crane is indeed using you like a fleshlight. He alternates between thrusting into you and holding onto the chains to move you over his cock. It’s humiliating, painful, awful, but he’s no longer threatening you with a knife.

He pulls out the camera again and points the lens at your pussy where it’s stretched around him. Then he backs up the camera a bit to capture your full form, contorted by the chains.

“W-what are you gonna do with those?” you ask with your broken voice.

“Exactly what you did to me,” he growls.

“No! No, please, you can’t do that.”

He grabs the chains and slams you down onto him, sending him impossibly deeper.

“You ruined my life. Now it’s your turn.”

“My career will be over! Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t send those to anyone!”

You’re begging shamelessly, sobbing and snotty, but none of this seems to turn him off. In fact, he seems to enjoy it more.

“I’m sure Dent would be interested to see what you get up to after hours. Of course, your reputation would be ruined once the rest of the city sees your messy cunt.”

All you can do is cry and shake your head.

“I know you’re good friends with Bruce Wayne. Maybe I’ll tell everyone that he did this to you and ruin you both. Wouldn’t that be sweet,” he says.

His voice is raspy and low; he’s clearly very affected by the pleasure of using you and you doubt he can hold on for much longer.

“I-I’ll do anything, Dr. Crane. Please,” you say between sobs.

“Hmm,” he hums.

Crane grabs your breast roughly and squeezes, digging his nails into your soft skin. You hiss and your face screws up with pain. He then slaps it repeatedly until you show signs of more discomfort.

“Please,” you beg again.

“It might be nice to have a friend at the DA’s office,” he says with a smirk. “Especially one that would bid in my favor, lest some dirty pictures get out.”

Blackmail? Jesus, he’s fucking sick. Though you suppose the threat of releasing them is better than him actually doing it.

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I’ll help you out, just please don’t send them,” you say frantically.

He fucks you even more erratically now, like he can’t decide if he should edge or finish himself off.

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice frighteningly low. You nod in response. “You’re scared of me, the loser you tormented in college? Don’t you regret that?”

He’s speaking so quiet and slowly like he’s trying to hypnotize you. You nod along with what he’s saying, figuring it’s better just to agree.

“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Every time you look at our bastard child, you’ll see my face and regret what you did to me.”

That catches your attention. Our child?

“W-what?”

“You thought I kidnapped you just to cum in my hand? I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking with my fucking cum. Oh, and you know that little pill you take every day? I switched that out weeks ago. This little womb is as fertile as ever, and you’re going to give me a baby.”

Your stomach flips and you immediately feel nauseous. He tampered with your birth control? That means he was in your house. He could have put cameras up, bugged the place. You have no idea what he’s truly capable of.

Tears being to stream down your cheeks again. You feel so violated, so helpless. He doesn’t wipe away your tears or even tell you to stop crying. He just watches as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he growls. “And you’re gonna take it all.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to yours, forcing you to look deep into his eyes as he fills you with his cum. The wet, hot feeling of it flooding your insides makes you feel sick, and he continues to fuck himself through his orgasm which makes the cum froth and leak down your holes.

He stays seated inside you, keeping you plugged so the sperm has time to take. Crane is breathing heavily but he doesn’t once look away from you.

"Good girl," he mutters. "Good pussy."

You sag in relief when he finally pulls out. Your cunt aches from his rough treatment, and not in the fun way. Your arms and legs hurt from the bonds, but that appears to be a pain you won't soon be free from.

Crane walks back over to the chair he was sitting in when you first woke up and takes a seat. "I'll keep you here for a couple days so you can't go off and take one of those pesky morning after pills," he says casually.

"Y-you can't. They'll notice when I don't show up for work," you try to reason with him.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I called on your behalf and told them you had a family emergency. Something about grandma and her heart," he says. "I've taken care of everything."

You don't doubt that he has, and that scares you. He rests his ankle on the opposite knee and looks at the pictures he took on the camera.

"Now all you have to do is stay out of my way in court, and no one will ever see these," he grins, letting the camera dangle from his wrist by the strap.

You nod in understanding. "Good girl."

[r0-boat]

WHB Kings with audio accounts

Back on my audio account bullshit

Cw: NSFW, mentions of darker content but not specific, whb is its own trigger warning lol, but also some silly things (My bad a lot of silly things)

Satan

"boyfriend beats you over the head with a metal pipe till you fall asleep.♥️" "Killing you sexually then killing you again"

His account is not serious. And the funny thing is that some devils would actually listen to it while they fall asleep.

The only other thing he posts seriously is ramble faps. His mic is god-awful You don't even know how these people listen to this shit but he's actually proud of the work he does. His favorite thing to do is making his own sound effects All his sound effects are 100% made by him 'organically grown' as he calls it. And by listening some of these audios you are terrified and don't want to ask what he has done.

Surprisingly he is really good at acting... As soon as he gets a better Mic his stuff somehow gets infinitely better.

Mammon

He firmly believes that humans and devils have a fantasy of wanting to be owned and he is there to fulfill that fantasy because he does in fact own everyone. Majority of his contents is some kind of script where he owns you in some way. All pictures provided to his audios are real pictures taken by a professional photographer. Some even have motherfucking animation.

And just a low low price of $2,000 a month you can access this content (Bimet's fault) But don't worry he sells each individual audio for hundreds of dollars. He considers this cheap.

He's one of the biggest audio accounts on the platform. Having one of his audios is considered a luxury, You're getting your money's worth from the ambience to the voice acting to how often he posts Oh boy. Each audio is an hour of content all good story like a damn movie.

His audios are far more than just smut They are works of art in his eyes. And those "works of art"are probably sold in the Tartaros Black market.

Leviathan

The only normal one. Hard to believe, But if he wants to do something he wants to do it right. He wants to blow out the competition stealing other ideas and making them better in his eyes.

He only started doing this because he caught you listening to some devil you found making a boyfriend audio and he was jealous. The only voice you should be listening to is his! He starts actually liking it however because people praise him for his beautiful voice and moans.

His audios have a lot of degrading a lot of roleplay fantasy where he is of course everything he wants to be. However a lot of his content are heavily influenced by you.

You talk about a singer you liked? Is next audio is a role play where he is a singer and you are his groupie. An anime character from that specific game? He will research the game make his own character based on himself and put himself in it for an audio!

Beelzebub

He has two types of audio. Food mukbangs is one of them. However the other type is Pure sin. A Beel audio can pleasure you just as much as he can in person.

Filled with dark content because he's fulfilling his darker desires desires he can't really fulfill with you because you are a human. But in these little fantasies he can do whatever he wants and imagine anyone he wants.

He does not add sound effects but his voice alone is sinful enough to get you wanting more. He will become too powerful if he starts adding fuck noises.

His mukbangs are just him eating different here He eats food with another devil and they talk kind of like a podcast.

Lucifer

Lucifer's audios are almost entirely dominant. He has a growing user base that wants to see him whimper and he does not want to feed them.

A lot of Lucifer's content stems from religious trauma corruption kink kinda stuff. Corrupted priest, to him as an incubus corrupting you.

He does have softer content He tries to keep NSFW and sfw equal numbered, and that content rages from weddings to honeymoon to first dates anything sweet enough to melt your soul.

He prioritizes telling a story more than anything else

[poppadom0912]

Together (VI)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, kidnappings, shootings, and scary men.

Summary: Everyone in Chicago knows the signature Halstead stubbornness, but the Murray's only smell delusion.

A/N: A Levels are kicking my ass but enjoy!! This was also written on while I was at school so there might be a few mistakes. The angst in this is too good to be true if you ask me so buckle up ;)

Previous Chapter / Series Masterlist / Next Chapter

The effects of the drugs were still present as Will came back to, vision blurry and body in agony as he re-adjusted himself on the cold floor. Everything came rushing back and he tried his best not to panic when he couldn't find Jay.

However, his panic became clear as day when he caught your unconscious figure laying almost too still on the floor, too far from him to reach you.

Despite calling out to you, trying his best to nudge you with his feet, you never moved, remaining immobile. Will swore he heard you groan but it was so silent he could easily blame it on delusion.

Trying his best not to jump to conclusions, Will tugged and moved his hands tied to metal pipes, trying as hard as he could to release himself so he could get to you.

And it might've taken what felt like years, resulting in his wrists to bleed out a bit too heavy than normal but he was already in so much pain that it made no difference.

As carefully as he could so not to aggravate any of his more serious injuries, Will brushed your hair away from sticking to your forehead to behind your ears.

On instinct, he checked for a pulse and choked back a sob when he felt it. It was definitely weak but it was there and that was all that mattered right now.

"Y/N? Y/N open those eyes for me." Will whispered, gently picking your head up and placing it on his thighs, letting them act as a pillow.

"I know you're in there so don't even try it with me young lady." He said, semi strict tone that he used to use when you were a teenager and he was the only fatherly figure in your life besides Jay.

Once again, you groaned from the sheer amount of pain you were in, tears pricking your eyes and falling down your cheeks when you didn't bother holding them back.

"There she is." Will continued whispering, a smile gracing his lips as the two of you made eye contact. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of your silent tears. "Hurts... It hurts Will." You said huskily, voice cracking and breaking, an indication that you were going to lose it soon. "It hurts so much."

“I know, I know it does.” Will whispered, swallowing harshly as you shivered in his arms. “I’m so sorry but you have to stay awake for me.”

Despite being in a haze, you let out a sound that indicated you were listening to him. As you did so, you forced your eyes open and studied your oldest brothers scar filled face.

“You're hurt Will.” You said, trying to raise your voice in sternness but it only cracked further. Mustering as much strength as you could, you lifted your hand and gently poked his face with your own bloodied and worn out fingers.

Slightly wincing, Will held your wrist, his touch as light as a feather as he moved it away back onto your lap. “Don’t talk to much okay? You need to preserve your energy and try not to lose your voice.”

You were never a sticker for the rules, always foregoing your brothers advice whenever they lent it to you. "Tell me a story, something I don't know... please?"

The desperation soaked into your words, it almost brought Will back to a time where innocence was all the Halstead siblings knew. The image of a toddler you, wobbling along like a penguin but ambition shone bright in your eyes as it always did whenever you heard the boyish shouts of the only kids who'd have to become men too quickly

For the sake of you. 

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he continued to bring you comfort with his feather light touches as to not add any more gasoline to to fire your body was set on. 

"Well." Will blinked away his tears, refusing to show both his pain and fear in a moment that he needed to be the big brother he's been since the early age of two. "I was going to tell you this at your wedding but when you were seven..."

And with ease, something Will hadn't felt since he was in Jay's truck earlier today or maybe it was yesterday, time slipped away from him; Will delved into what sounded like angels singing hymns.

The great blue earth that spun ever so gracefully felt so insignificant right now. It felt like hell was here in the room with you because this pain was otherworldly. 

You would never let them know, but you craved sweet release. 

*****

Jay felt like he was going crazy, which he was, both figuratively and literally. 

Here he was in the bullpen, not in the best of states taking into account the cuts and bruises littering his body, his thigh pulsating whenever he moved an inch but just as he felt the pain, he remembered you and Will. He remembered your battered body and your helpless screams and despite never seeing it, he knew Will had been hurt but the man was too stubborn and selfless to show his younger siblings. 

There was no new evidence since Jay's unexpected arrival. 

Everything had been thoroughly sifted through and no rocks had been left unturned. Things were so uneventful that Kelly had been convinced - *cough cough forced* - back to work with the promise he was their first call when they found something. And of course, Jay wasn't going to deny his future brother-in-law. 

The middle Halstead sibling sat at his desk, picking away at every miniscule detail he could remember. His siblings lives were literally in the palms of his hands and he'd be damned they were ripped out of his grasp. He wasn't a Halstead for nothing. It was the only good thing they all inherited from their father and that was his godforsaken stubbornness that Voight, Goodwin and Boden cursed out on a daily. 

His eyes stung, salty tears blurring his vision for mere seconds before they were extinguished. This was not the time nor was it the place for Jay to start contemplating and start thinking the worst. He knew that as long as neither of you were alone, as long as the two of you remained together then he had no reason to worry and his only job was to find you. 

The Jackson brothers had already taken so much from the Halsteads and just as life was running smoother than silk, they barged in and tore it all apart with no care for the feelings of others. Jay didn't understand just how cruel people could be, even in his line of work some people were just beyond evil just for the sake of it. 

Apparently, according to Antonio who had been in touch with a few of his people, Jackson's escape was so clean not a single prison guard could recollect when or how it happened and Ezra had been in hiding for the past four years. There were no explanations to their appearances and Jay felt himself going mad. 

Maybe he was beginning to get delirious from the endless dead ends they came upon or maybe it was the blood loss catching up to him added with the adrenaline finally dying down. No one would know but Jay could live with that if it meant getting a single hint or clue as to where his brother and sister were kept locked away from his itching fingers. 

In Jay's opinion, Voight wasn't being fair when he denied giving Jay his backup gun that was usually kept in the draw at the bottom of his desk. He'd confiscated it and refused to give it back till this entire ordeal was over as he claimed Jay's behaviour to be unpredictable even when on the verge of fainting. 

"Thanks Kim." Jay thanked the brunette with a tight lipped smile when she placed a coffee and sandwich in front of him on his desk. He could practically feel the concern oozing off his colleagues but he simply ignored it, shoving it far away because that was the least of his problems right now. Deep down, he knew he needed medical attention but then he heard your gut wrenching cries and suddenly his eyes were stinging again. 

According to the numbers on his computer screen, it would be 24 hours since the Halsteads kidnapping in approximately three minutes and gosh did it make Jay want to scream, shouting out to any higher power that was empathetic enough to help. 

His favourite coffee sat peacefully in its paper cup but the brown liquid only made him feel queasy. For some reason, the common beverage made him think of the thermos sitting in his truck that belonged to Will, his older brothers complaining about how the ED had tired him out. God, Will must be so tired. 

Swallowing back the rising bile, Jay sighed, his entire body deflating into his chair. His head was pounding and the bandage Ethan tightly wrapped around his leg was soaked through, his blood was soon going to start dripping onto the wooden floor and he didn't need that on his mind too. Sitting up, Jay nicely asked if Kim could help him redress the wound which she nodded without a second thought. Besides the two of them and Voight in his office doing God knows what, the bullpen was empty despite the occasional team member moving in and out with an urgency that never left since they heard Jay's audio from Trudy. 

Screwing his eyes shut, Jay bite back a wince when Kim knelt down and touched his thigh with practiced gentleness that reminded him of the tenderness his first responder siblings showed whenever on the clock. 

All of a sudden, his heart lurched out of his chest when Kim's phone alarm went off, a notification popping up and going as soon as it came. It was very short lived but Jay caught of glimpse of the words on her phone and felt dread taking over his body. 

Dragging his eyes back over to his computer screen, Jay could only feel the weight on his shoulders increase tenfold and if he listened closely, he could probably hear his bones creaking under the pressure. 

It'd officially been 24 hours since the Halsteads went missing. 

Series Masterlist:

@mads-weasley @sowrongitslottie @elite4cekalyma @senjoritanana @hufflepuff-blackwidow @mrspeacem1nusone @kmc1989 @goth-cowgirl-03 @daggersquadphantom @photographerkaiya0306 @jamie0515 @samanthavitale

[f0xgl0v3]

How does one Elias Bouchard hold his Pipe/The overall murder scene

Tw this like entire post is about the proper way to hold a pipe if you wanna effectively hit someone with it several times repeatedly :3 also spoilers for MAG 80

Guys I am simply a writer and this is just for writing and thought experiment purposes, none of this shall or should be applied to real life and it’s just for the haha extended sounds of brutal pipe murder-

What has come to my life-? I’m talking about Elias Bouchard and how he holds the Pipe to murder people- I, there will be actual Percy Jackson stuff soon. Maybe talking about Camp Jupiter and armor and gear and stuff or something however,

Everyone draws Elias with really weird hand positions on the pipe-? That’s a weird thing to say and the art is fantastic but if your beating someone with a Pipe then there seems to be a way I always thought in my head-

Let’s, for the sake that I’m halfway through season 4 consider the only Pipe murder I am currently aware of would be Jurgen Leitner’s, we can work with this. Elias is standing over him at the other side of a desk while Jurgen is seated I believe-? There are a couple ways we can go about this,

1) Elias hits him while they both are in the neutral position at the desk

2) Elias walks over to Jurgen’s side during the conversation and hits him then

3) Jurgen stands up from his chair and then Elias hits him.

I have had to listen to the sound clip so many times for this- I- okay. So, the beginning of the murder still is Jurgen talking, I think audibly a bit worried. I’d like to make the assumption that while Elias is like “bird stuff always a risk about death” that is when the pipe is revealed, Jurgen is taking the moment to try and reason with him and I think 2 and 3 are the most viable due to the sound they use. In 1’s scenario Elias wouldn’t get enough strength in that first swing (due to the desk being in the way, and Elias most likely having to lean over the desk to try and get a strong strike.

Then, the sound- I believe Elias initially hits Jurgen from the side of the head, think like the same ‘row’ that your temples are on, that vague side of the head. Jurgen is heard with a grunt by the first hit; we don’t hear him fall or anything (which makes me suspect it could be a situation of Elias walking over to the other side of the table) and it doesn’t really sound like Elias moves where he hits very much- continuing to strike that original spot; otherwise we’d likely hear the crunch of bone. Am I making the assumption that the sound design would include the crunch and that I would know what hitting a skull with a metal pipe is, oh yeah totally.

Now, that settles how I think this entire thing played out, Elias revealing the pipe as he walks over to the side, Jurgen looks up in old sad man still seated and is trying to reason with Elias, maybe he even attempts to get up and that is when Elias strikes in the right side of his head (just what makes sense to me, it could be the left either it wouldn’t matter much) and repeatedly hits there 11 times (yes I counted the strikes we hear, no I don’t have anything better to do with my time because I’m putting off writing a script) before like dipping or whatever.

Now, the pipe posture if you will. I see so many drawings of Elias’s hands like this,

Raised, and for all intents and purposes from an art sense it’s rad. It’s a dynamic pose and stuff, and of course this is not a critique on artists (who are way better than me) and how they want to draw this fictional man hold his pipe. However this is my brainrot talking on the ‘hey I think this is how he’d get the most effective swing’ because I’ve listened to two seasons back to back and I no longer have a brain.

But; Elias Bouchard wants the most bang for his buck so to speak. I think holding the Pipe like the tried and true baseball bat would provide this. Elias holding it like in my very bad diagram is good if he’d want to poke or stab someone with the pipe, but it’s really effective if you can get that swing in. So yeah, baseball style; hands together near the end of the pipe and over a shoulder or even over his head if you want to be silly with his posing.

Uh, haha okay. I’m sorry but the rot is all consuming and I’ve been thinking about him a lot, also like Peter Lukas and a bunch of the other sillies but this kinda- forced itself out while I was looking at art of the scene. I, uh, :3 that’s all. I like thinking about the mapping and layout and planning of scenes like these and how the visuals might’ve looked if there were visuals. I promise I probably won’t make any more posts like this for a solid while (however, talking about Bryce Lawerence and my thing in SoN are-imagining that he was the one to kill Gwen… maybe.)

[codecicle]

i experience jrwi shipping in a way nobody could possibly understand. i thought fnc was one big joke i didn't think people actually were rooting for them to get together and analyzing each interaction. navyseal simultaneously exists and doesn't exist at the same time to me, it's only real because of the url hivemind but also real because they're canonically t4t trust me I'm gillions top surgery. polypirates are the closest thing to explaining what I actually think about them and if i ever were to say that on twitter i would get my balls put into a waffle maker as punishment. gillion tidestrider still thinks polygamy is punishable by death so he plays off being in a qpr [LOUD DEAFENING VINE BOOM SOUND EFFECT] with his two best friends as "well that's just what co-captains do. we are pirates after all." they all hate each other. they're all [METAL PIPE FALLING] faggots‼️ theyre all t4t. the greater mana polycule is both canon and not real at the same time. jay has 12 million girlfriends. chip and gillion are both also jays girlfriends too because they arent cowards. albatrio sleep on top of each other at night stacked up like a jenga game. they couldn't imagine life without one another and they want to kill each other at the same time. nobody understands them like I do nobody gets the vision

[old-skyguy]

TMA fears as ASMR concepts

Disclaimer: I wrote this months ago in my notes app. This is not proofread in the *slightest*. So. It's gonna be shit. Lol. Enjoy, ig.

Also not canon compliant whatsoever so don't complain about that because I know.

-Michael Distortion: (POV: you're in the spiral) it's just 15 minutes of Michael whispering the same "baby sharchivist dododododo" tune and then him getting killed by Helen in the last minute.

-Nikola Orsinov does your skincare routine but it's just a direct parody of the Victor Van Dort does your Nails video where instead of the bts poster, the "blanket" is a black and white circus poster (see: Danny Stoker) that crumbles to ash when he puts it on. Also at the end she tries to do a "chemical peel" she found on "the internets". Michael comes in at the end and PRESIDENTIAL ALERT THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINNGGG.

"Why are you screaming? that's very rude, you know. Especially after I talked to your BOSS for you. And that was NOT an enjoyable experience. He's such a tool >:(("

"Spill the tea, archivist" "oh sorry, did you want some? Sorry ...too bad. You can't have this :33" "WHERE ARE MY MANNERS??" *sticks pinky finger out* "there! Much better"

-Jane Prentiss' GRWM but she doesn't have any other clothes so it's just "time for the fit check!!" *Camera cuts to her dress for one (1) second* then her makeup is just dirt, dirt, and "the worms love you."

-Simon Fairchild and Michael Crew giggle with each other while huddled together and whispering/gossiping and asking "should we do it, should we do it?" "Yeah yeah let's be bad" while shushing each other while occasionally interacting with the listener for 5 minutes and then the rest of the video is just them torturing them via the ocean (them holding you underwater for 2 minutes with muffled gurgling bubble noises accompanied by underwater ocean sounds and silent panicking), throwing you into the sky at extreme velocity (sounds of air blasting your eardrums for a solid 3 minutes before an airplane hits you full force and you fall back into the ocean...which is another whole minute of falling and panicking.), and then the rest of the video is just them laughing while basically using your limp, dazed body as a kite.

-Elias Bouchard beats you with a metal pipe ASMR.

-POV: Gerard Keay breaks into your house at 2:27 AM and ransacks it looking for a LEITNER "WHERE TF IS I- oh. You're awake..Hi." before leaving through the window but he can't make himself fit through so it's just a full minute of him struggling and awkwardly laughing while apologizing over and over. All this time, he's wearing so much eyeliner, he looks like Jeff the Killer. You point this out and he just goes "Oh! Thank you! :D"

-"Buried Alive ASMR: You Get Buried Alive. You are getting buried alive. Someone is burying you. Alive. It is peaceful." (Unnecessarily long, redundant title for what's just screaming that gets slowly muffled as the video goes on and more dirt is piled on top of you before you start to sound content and just. Go to sleep. At that point. Snoring.)

-The Vase eats your boyfriend in the other room. It's just sounds of porcelain and snoring and fleshy eating sounds with ear eating but it slowly progresses to sounds that make less and less sense until it's just the skeleton sound effects from Minecraft.

-POV spiders crawl all over you. They have covered your door in spiderwebs. You fall asleep crying but wake up to being choked to death via spiders crawling inside you and blocking your windpipe.

-Jared Hopworth, the Boneturner, turns your bones with sounds of squishy flesh moving around in the background. At the end, you get eaten by The Monster Pig™ and meat (lol) the body of the missing clown.

-You get sacrificed to The Desolation. Sounds of distant screaming is heard in the right ear while sounds of maniacal/pained laughter is heard in the left. Fire crackles throughout the woods.

-You are getting chased by something. You get stalked with a lot of tension at the beginning; sticks cracking, creepy giggling, devious sounds all around. Your breathing is uneasy, but then the sounds stop and you breathe a sigh of relief and go back to stoking your campfire. Something growls and finally says "evening" and starts counting down. From 5. You bolt away from your campsite downhill for 2 minutes breathing heavily and fast before you trip on a stick and tumble down the mountain getting hit by trees and sent over rocks. You're about to pass out, but then you hear sniffing and growling in your direction and you get back up with an "o shit" and hide in a tree. When the monster sniffs out your hiding spot, it can't reach you. The rest of the video is slightly muffled Gangnam Style.

-POV: Peter Lukas kidnaps you, throws you in a sack, and you are put on a ship to a deserted island. This part is just sounds of boards creaking and boat rocking sounds while you fall asleep to the sounds of Peter's VERY heavy snoring. You're both startled awake by distant "land ho!" And a very gruff Peter's voice talking to himself going "I'm up I'm up ugh". Rustling of the bag is heard while he picks you up and fumbles around with you. You're getting passed around and jostled a bunch. At one point he burns his toast. Sounds of intense crunching can be heard from this along with him saying "elgh" as if disgusted. Finally, he brings you to the deck and throws you overboard onto a deserted island (your bones break and you scream "MY LEGS") before you can hear him far away saying "alright, set sail, we're done here." You manage to get out of the bag (you are wincing, the drop heavily contorted your body) and the sun shines at you while birds squack above and the coast crashes onto the shore. You slowly lose your mind.

-POV you're in the War™ and get shot in the arm and fall into a cave with one of your comerades. You guys shakily and awkwardly attempt to make small talk as you both bleed out on top of several hundreds of other corpses. The Piper is heard in the distance getting louder. When he finally gets to you after taking your friend, you fall into a bottomless pit while he's up there yelling "OH FUCKING COME ONNNN." When you get out on the other side after a minute of silence with faint sounds of "I will remember you" plays quietly through the silence. When you get out, Mike and Simon are snickering before you cough up blood when they start bursting out in laughter being like "I'm sorry I'm SO sorry really but it's JUST. SO FUNNY."

-POV: Robert Montauk is preparing to kill you, sharpening his tools and humming and whatnot before Julia comes in and asks what her dad's doing. While he's distracted, you escape the shitily tied knots and run through pitch dark while he chases you with an axe. "COME BACK. COME BACCKKK. YOU FUCKER I NEED YOU. FUCKER." You run into a church. Manuela Dominguez tries to apprehend you. It doesn't work. "Where the hell's Fairchild when you need him?"

Robert bursts through the church and gets pissed at you for making him scream curse words that his daughter could hear. Throws the axe at you. He misses. Now you have a weapon. You charge at him but fall through another pitch black hole where none other than yours truly are on the other side of it laughing their ASSES off just DYING. "OK. OK Whooooo. We SWEAR that was the last of it hahaha" "haha yeah just some guys bonding over a good laugh, you understand."

-The End. Just. An end screen.

You're dropped into Season one Jon's office and they (annoyed) take your statement. Typing sounds are heard while you frantically go "then the old guy..a-nd then the other old guy then the 2 old men and. And. Worm lady. Skin. Chemical peel." As they mumble "uh huh, yeah. Heh, heard that one before. No go on, go on." When statement ends, you leave but stay at the door to eavesdrop while they skepticize like "this man needs some antispychotics and he needs them NOW. Ugh. My job is utter buffoonery. MAHTIN."

You turn to walk away but get ambushed by Elias Bouchard. The last sound of the video is just a metal pipe hitting you over the head.

[sol-consort]

Don’t you just love humans ability to make music out of just about anything? A human on the Citadel snags a few empty barrels, pipes, and metal rods from the dump and they have a makeshift drumset. We can play a song with a cup, wine glasses filled with water, spoons. Can you imagine being an alien going about your day on the Citadel and you hear what sounds like music and think ‘wow, what a funky little instrument, wonder what that is’ then as you get closer to the sound and it’s one of the hairless apes hitting a pile of trash with sticks and it actually sounds good?

Not only do we make music as easily as drumming our fingers, but it's in our nature. We look for patterns everywhere, it's our way of survival and music just happened to be the greatest pattern of all.

Which is why we can't help but be attracted to rhythms, why we keep making peotry and songs. Why the best way to remember something is to make it into a melody that our brain will latch onto.

And we have the perfect instruments for music! Our hands! Most of the other species won't even be able to play our instruments because they're either missing a finger or two, or their fingers resemble claws more. Yet I think humans would be able to play most of their instruments.

Even our babies who haven't became self aware yet are born adoring music, humming to them quiets them down, and hearing a song calms them.

Birds who adore singing are known to replicate humans, so many times they fall in love with how melodic some of our words sound and repeat it, or they hear a human song and replicate the rhythm to the best of their ability.

I always imagine human bands, musicians and singers to become galactic celebrities after first contact. Because it's not just songs, it's also a way to tell a tale, a way to share an experience or to vent emotions. Songs can range from being educational to children and to being empowering for adults. Music has exist far before life has, how beautiful it is that we developed ears and brains to listen to it? Be it the falling of raindrops that just aligned right to make a rhythm or the melody of a bird waking us up at the morning.

Human armies have a song for marching, human sports teams have a cheer song, even protests shouts are catchy rhythms. Music is much more than art to us, it is in our blood.

Ever been in an online game late at night with friends and one of you starts singing just randomly? Every screamed a song at the top of your lungs during a car ride? Ever sang to your pet be it an animal or plant?

I think drell and turians would be the most attracted to human singing voices and instruments. The way we make it seem seamless, the way our voices can range from crystal clear to high notes and deep lows. That's especially impressive to drell who always have this raspy tone in theirs, how much loud we are capable of screaming and how much emotion we can put into whispers.

Turians would adore human metal music, I just know it. They love the electric guitars only our fingers can play, the love the loud drums and hard beat. They like the meaning of these songs, especially the rebellious ones that encourages them to seek freedom and go against everything their turian society raised them upon.

It'd be very sweet for the aliens to hear our romantic music for the first time. Maybe they get invited to a human wedding and fall in love with the pure melody of the piano, the soft voice singing songs of adoration. Especially the asair would love the "thousands years" song.

Salarians realise human songs actually have a calming effect on them. Maybe a human sings to their salarian friend while bored at work and they notice them visibly relax when they're normally such a busy bee.

[pluralquotebook]

🍊: call me L the way sge deathed on my note

🍊: wait fuck

🍊:she deathed on my note

🍊: FUCK

🍓: man thats okay we all wanna die here w mnow what youre talking about

🍊: *metal pipe falling sound effect*

~the Labyrinth system

.

[getlucifertherapy]

But sire, from what's a bridge to you I simply step off. I do hope you won't fall off of the staircase, your highness.

-🖤

*metal pipe sound effect*

(Sorry guys I’m too lazy to draw Lucifer over this bc I just got up)

[theplatypusblue]

I’m just going to put this here since it’s been on my mind lately, but since we have no idea what Pixal’s been up to or where she is…. Please appreciate the comedic potential of post-merge samurai harumi

Like imagine the ninja finally go back to ninjago city and oh wow look!! It’s Samurai X!!! Acting a little different than usual, but hey we finally have a lead on where pixal is!!!! Now we can help each other out and be a team again—

And then the reveal happens and they learn that no, actually, it’s not Pixal it’s Her™ and the mood immediately drops through the fucking floor. Metal pipe falling sound effect kinda shit (The humor comes from the fact that harumi is a sad pathetic wet cat just to be clear)

[galactic-johnny]

P-bandai HG Todesritter.

I actually finished this a while ago and took pictures but I didn't feel like posting until now.

This is the only member of the pale rider family I've been able to get my hands on so far, but hopefully in the near future they'll do reprints of others. The pale rider line is sort of infamous for being a mold bandai put not effort into and slapped a bunch of stickers on. The original kit came out 2015 and was one of the first p-bandai kits that was a completely unique mold (although from what I understand its similar to the hg gm sniper ii). They then proceeded to release its variants, which reused a most of the runners but had all new, equally huge sticker sheets.

The HG Todesritter then came out in 2020 with a completely new mold, and proceed to also have a ton of stickers for all of the gold, most of the gold/gray vents, and some of the white, and still used a bunch of polycaps.

At this point I almost refuse to use stickers aside from metallic eye/sensor stickets, so I tried my hand with gundam markers and I'm pretty happy with out it came out, and at least half the gold parts were actually very easy to color in myself. It sounds like I'm complaining but honestly it was worth the effort, the Todesritter is a such a cool combination of federation and neo zeon design.

It also two really fun gimmicks, being the incoms and the subarms for the huge beam sabers, complete with mastergarde beam saber effect parts. The shield looks cool but is all molded in the dark blue, and was the hardest part for me to paint with gundam markers but I was not going to use a sticker that folded 20 different times.

It's also very big, almost as big as the RG Hi-Nu Gundam, and it big enough to toss the normal sized Lfrith around.

The build was fun if you actually enjoy the painting part to some degree like I do, but there were a few flimsy parts, like the front skirts that are connected to the piping that kept coming loose, the wing binders are on a polycap so those fall a lot, and only the left leg fell off a lot for some reason. If you can get through those the articulation is pretty okay but not as good as most of the gwitch kits for comparison.

I didn't play gundam side story missing link or read the manga, but I think the gist is that during the first neo zeon war the Todesritter was built using the cockpit of the original pale rider that got destroyed in the one year war with the HADES system intact, and is piloted by the guy that destroyed the original pale rider, who is also married to its pilot, and she is now dead/dying because of the effects of the HADES system on her. If that's correct feel free to let me know.

It's currently the most effort I've put into a kit, but worth it imo and I don't regret it, I actually want to try the original pale rider now. I first saw it in Gundam Evolution and it was one of my favorite designs, and apparently a lot of people like it because bandai keeps doing reprints and has done all of the variants of it, maybe soon they'll do a master grade version (p-bandai of course :( ).

[who-u-calling-pinhead]

take this picture of eggplant dave as a sacrifice

". . ."

"...Where the hell did you get thi-"

"-ssSSSS WHAT TH E F U C K-"

[Cue that one metal pipe falling sound effect]

[professional-benaddict]

part 42 - AO3 link🖤

part 41 in the reblog @winterspiderpurrs 🖤🖤

tw: gun violence and injury

It really is Tony. He’s in one of his suits, as is usual for him now, a gun in his hand too. It has only been a few days, but Peter thinks he looks more handsome than ever.

The mafia boss raises his gun in a skilled motion, his arm in a perfect line and his feet spread to handle the kickback.

“What the-” The man who had been interrogating Peter did not finish his sentence, as Tony shot a bullet in his cheek.

The deadly effect is instant. Peter flinches at the loud noise, and his ears ring so loud that he cannot hear anything else for a while. The man’s head bobs back a little, and then he slumps together like the dead weight he is and onto the floor.

“You came!” Peter yelps, quickly followed by a sob. His own voice sounds weird in his head, but he does not care. Nor does he care about the body on the floor next to him.

“Of course, Bambino.” Tony says, crouching by Peter and helping him get up and out of the chair and ropes. Peter can hear him a bit better now, but his own crying is still loud with the way it bounces off of the bare walls.

“Come on, you’re okay. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Tony rambles.

When Peter moves his arms to his front, he realises how bruised and hurt they are from falling backwards. But, nothing feels broken, luckily. His cheekbone might be though, with how much it is throbbing and hurting.

“God, what did they do to you?” Tony breathes out, trying to cup Peter’s cheeks in a way that does not hurt his face.

Peter winces a little, but he smiles through his tears.

“T-To’y…”

“I’m here, I’m here. We’re getting out of here.” Tony assures.

“Don’t know how exactly we are gonna do that, but…” Bucky says. He is stood in the doorway with a machine gun resting on his thigh. Only now is Peter aware of his presence. “Steve and Strange and Clint are backing us, but we gotta get out of here. Now.”

“Can you walk?” Tony asks, helping Peter up from the floor. He takes nearly all the young man’s weight, but once on his feet, he stands.

“Yeah…” Peter nods, trying to steady his breathing to focus.

“All right. Come with us.” Tony takes Peter’s hand firmly, the other holding the gun still.

Bucky walks ahead of them, his machine gun raised and checking every turn. Tony covers their back while leading Peter.

The young nurse does not remember entering this place, and he is sort of glad he doesn’t. It looks dirty, worn down and hostile. There are leaky pipes in the ceiling, paint falling from the walls and there are strange smells everywhere.

Then, there’s the blood. The bodies lay amongst the bullets and bullet holes. In his panicked and disoriented mind, Peter wonders who will bury them. Or perhaps they won’t be.

Around one corner, Bucky raises his gun as usual, but this time, there is someone there. They yelp, but Bucky lowers his gun a little.

“Jeez, Barnes. Itchy trigger finger?”

It is Clint, not that Peter remembers. But, from behind the blond man, comes another.

“Stephen!” Peter yelps loudly, making Tony shush him.

“Peter! Oh my God!” Stephen gasps, falling forwards to embrace Peter. He only gets one brief second before Tony shoves them from behind.

“Come on, we gotta go. We’ll do all the kisses later.”

Peter clings to Stephen and the doctor wraps a strong arm around his torso, pulling him along. They hurry along even faster now. Clint is talking to Happy and Sam on the phone, telling them to pull up with the cars. They cannot waster any time and linger.

If only everything could slow down, if only he could be safe with everyone. If only this would end…

“Car’s 20 seconds. Come on!” Clint says. He cracks a metal door open, one that leads outside. It is almost as dark outside as inside.

They rush outside, Tony covering them from behind. Two black cars pulls up with a screech and violent stop. Bucky throws the door open to the first one, which Sam is driving. Steve is in the car too, but Stephen rushes to the other one with Happy.

In a split second, Peter looks around himself. It is a miracle how he notices in the dark night, but he sees someone running. And then another. He has a feeling they are not Tony’s men.

As if on instinct, Peter moves away from the car and to Tony who is the last one out of the building.

Peter hears the gunshot rather than sees it. He doesn’t know where it hits. It is almost as if it was swallowed up by the night air. Peter’s ears are ringing again. He cannot hear anything Tony is shouting at him.

There are more gunshots, but they sound muffled to Peter, like he is underwater. Still, Tony’s mouth is moving, but there is no sound. Stephen is here too, picking Peter up in a swift motion and putting him in the back of a car.

The car door slams shut and Happy hits the gas so that Stephen and Tony both slam into the seats. Peter feels nothing, except something warm on his leg.

“Peter! PETER!”

All the noise comes rushing back, and both Stephen and Tony are talking to him. Stephen presses his jacket to Peter’s thigh.

Only then does Peter realise the bullet wasn’t swallowed up in the night like he thought.

He’s been shot.

Is this how it ends?

[camdendaylight]

a/n: this is gonna be a one shot inspired by the song willow off of taylor swift's evermore. this does not include taylor as a character in any way. enjoy!

tropes: childhood best friends to lovers; family issues; good girl x bad boy; strict parents; neighbours to lovers; fluff; teenage love

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark. 

My old rusty window creaked, when I shoved it open, the cold autumn breeze setting off a series of shivers that ran down my body. I was wrapped up in my usual checkered coat, determined to step out on the rooftop of our garage in front of me, but the unexpected sound I had caused made me look back at my door in fear. I was supposed to be asleep by now, but instead my mind was wide awake and hesitant, debating on whether this was a good idea. 

It was not like I had never done this before, sneaking out when I though they weren't gonna notice my absence. Actually I had done it ever since I was child, when I first befriended with the kid that had just moved into the house next to ours. I was ten, back then. Now, as a sixteen year old, my parents were still treating me the same. Don't do this, don't do that, that's what I heard most times in the exact same tone out of both of their mouths. It was never: What do you want to do?

What I wanted to do in that moment was to leave, so that's what I did. They couldn't control me in the nighttime, I thought. As soon as the sun set and the moon lit up the lake where our garden met the pure nature of the forest, I was free. Free from them, free from schoolwork and extracurriculars, free from all my worries. The only thing left controlling me was the sound of my phone going off every few seconds as I squeezed myself through the tiny gab between the windowsill and my open window.  

"You coming?", I read on the dimmed screen and rolled my eyes at the text I had received. It wasn't as easy as you might think to escape out of this old house my mother had inheritated from my grandparents. Patience was the key, otherwise I would get caught. Even though it was mostly dark outside, I knew ever single step that I had to take on the wooden panels in order for them to be as quiet as possible. That was one of the positive effects that came with doing this for six years.

I didn't reply to the message, I just shoved my phone in the pocket of my coat and carefully made my way to the edge, where I sat down. The hardest part was yet to come, since I had to climb down gutter that was always shaking more the my adrenaline ridden hands. On top of that, the coldness of the imminent winter withdrew all the feelings out of my fingers, making it even more challenging for me to grip onto the metal pipe. 

Halfway through, I received another notification that frightened me so much, that I lost all of my strength. My feet slipped from the icy surface and butt forward I plopped down on the wet grass to the sound of a thud, as I pressed my lips together to keep myself from crying out in pain. It wasn't that painful though, since the I hadn't been that high up anymore, but still, my hands were now covered in mud and so was my coat, that covered my hurting behind. 

Thankfully, I had not drawn any attention from inside the house to myself with my graceful fall, since it seemed to be exceptionally quiet around me. I stood up, shaking my hands, then patting on the back of the coat, trying to get rid of all the dirt. It was useless, my mother was for sure gonna see the stain it had left. I would just have to hide the coat or tell her that I've had a ball kicked into my butt school. Both options were terrifying, if you knew my mother. Lying to her was a sin. 

I let out a deep breath I was apparently holding, before turning around to finally make my way to my well known destination. My boots were making funny squishing noises as I stomped towards my neighbors garden through ours, passing the fireplace my dad had set up ages ago and the trampoline we used to jump on as kids. There was no fence or any sort of border separating each of our properties, but I knew when the bushes around me weren't as perfectly trimmed anymore I was that I was overstepping the line.

In the back of their garden, close to the lake and far away from their house, the majestic willow tree opened up in front of me, its branches moving to the rhythm of the november wind. Every night I had been sneaking out here, yet the astonishing view of the scenery never failed to fill me with awe. As I reached the massive trunk, my expression turned into a frown. This was our usual meeting spot, our secret place of comfort, but there was no sight of my companion. "Dylan?"

"Sup?", a familar voice called in an obnoxiously relaxed tone and I leaned my head into my neck to look up. I was frightened once again, even though I should have known that he would never bail on me. He never did. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that he was simply hiding not under, but inside of the tree, casually sitting on one of the more stable branches that were not swaying around. As so often, there was smirked plastered on his face, his hazel eyes directed downwards, to me. 

"Jesus, you scared me!", I let out, taking in the sight of my childhood best friend and neighbor hovering above. He was wearing dark jeans, an olive sweater and a grey windbreaker on top, a black beanie covering most of his brown curls. He looked like the complete opposite of me, bold and edgy, wich he was. He was the complete opposite of me, still we got along very well, for the most part. "How on earth do you have the energy to climb all the way up?"

"Well first of all, I just left right through the front door of my house", he said with a chuckle, knowing I had to go completely out of the way to even make it to the tree were our initials were carved into the bark. He never had to worry about his parents finding out about our late night meeting. They probably knew about and didn't care. Or they didn't know, but wouldn't care. "And secondly, I didn't just fall six feet down on my ass. So-"

"You saw that?! Great another thing you're gonna make fun of me for till you die", I huffed, rolling my eyes at him. For the last six years, he had been making fun of me for every single time I had slipped, tripped, stumbled. I was used to it my now, as much as I was used to our daily meetings by the willow tree. We had made it to our own, shortly after we had met for the first time, when the old pair from next doors passed away and left behind their empty house with the overgrown garden and Dylan's parents decided to leave the city to live in a quieter area. 

"I'm gonna make fun of you even after I die. I'm gonna haunt you as a ghost and play tricks on you and then watch you get scared", he said sticking his tongue out to me, before climbing down a few branches, only to jump the remaining six feet. I could have done it the same way with the gutter, I thought to myself, as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching him. He was now leaning against the trunk. "Are you cold?"

"What does look like?", I said sticking my tongue out to him in return. The autumn breeze had struck me once again and I was shivering, which he seemed to have noticed in the same way he always seemed to notice if I wasn't well, which was often, but lately more and more often. Sill, I fired back jokingly, "No, I'm hot actually. Don't you feel the heat of the sun burning on your skin?"

"Give me your hands", he demanded, stretching his out to me. I looked from his face down to his hands and back up to his eyes in mistrust. A dubious frown creased my forehead, my pale fingers clung to the material of my coat. I was convinced that he was messing with me, probably planning something to embarrass me, scare me or make me fall again, but he chuckled at my hesitation. "Come on, I'm trying to help."

"But they are dirty", I said, holding my hands up for him to see the dirt that the wet grass had left on them from my fall a few minutes ago. He rolled his eyes, followed by sigh and slowly realization hit me that he was indeed being serious and that he didn't care about them being dirty. In desperate need of some sort of warmth, no matter what kind, I was willing to give in. "I swear if you lick my hand or some shit like that, I'm gonna cut your head off."

"Aspen, if you're dearest mother could hear the way you're speaking-", Dylan began laughing and I playfully clipped his ear, before ultimately placing my hands in his. The tip of my frozen finger brushed along the palm of his hand sending an electric impulse through my numb limbs, that I tried not to question. The skin on his hands felt rough against mine, yet transported the warmth I needed into not just my hands, but my whole body apparently. The heat was starting to get to my head. 

Staring at my hands in his, seemingly in disbelief that I had agreed to this, he thankfully hadn't noticed yet how much this effected me all of the sudden. But his laughter died down completely, when he looked up. The hazel of his eyes met the blue of mine, setting my cheeks into an undeniable red flush. I was sure he noticed then, but he didn't say anything, at least for awhile, until a devilish smirk formed on his unreadable face. "Aspen, are you- Are you blushing?"

"That's just the heat of the sun", I replied sarcastically, but in a rather startled manner, taking a step back in order to pull my hands away, but he wouldn't let me. Instead he tightened his grip, his mischievous gaze dropping down to what I assumed were my lips. Another shiver ran down my spine in response, this time though, it was not caused by the autumn breeze. I wasn't cold anymore, my heart was rapidly pumping blood into my overworked brain. Why was I feeling this way? I had no idea, but it scared the hell out of me. 

"Hold on, I think you're bleeding", Dylan said in a serious tone, that I wasn't grazed with very often. I breathed a sight of relief, because whatever my first assumption was, turned out to be wrong, but only then I fully registered what he had just said to me. Now that he mentioned it, I could actually taste the iron in my dried out mouth. "Dang, that fall must have been a lot more brutal than it looked from the distance. I'm sorry for making fun of you."

His right hand let go of mine, but only so his index finger could reach for my bruised lip. Before he actually touched the sensible spot though, an invisible force inside of me made me turn my head away as fast as I could. "Wait what?!", I cried out, now using all of my strength to create some distance between us. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I opened the front camera to inspect the results of my little accident. I must have bitten my own lips when I landed on the ground earlier. "Sh*t. What am I gonna tell you parents when they see this?"

"Tell them you were absentmindedly chewing on your own lip, you do that all the time anyway", he said chuckling lightly and my irritated eyes flickered from my screen to him. He was right, I had caught myself chewing on my lip many time. It was foolish habit of mine that my parents, particularly my mother hated as much as she hated my phone going off at the dinner table whenever Dylan texted me. She had always noticed, but I never figured Dylan had noticed too. 

"You know what? I-I gotta go", I stuttered, feeling a tremendous urge to flee from the situation and the intimacy it had oddly created. The fact that he recalled such a minor observation about me shouldn't have confused me, especially since I also noticed how eyebrow twitched every time when he was trying to figure something, to figure me out, like in this moment. With my eyes averted and the tip of my toes pointing back at our house, I set off, mumbling some last words. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Same spot, same time?", he called after me, forming his hands that previously held mine into a megaphone, because I had already made it back to the perfectly trimmed bushes while he was still leaning against the trunk. I nodded hastily, my mouth not allowing another word to slip out, and soon enough his tall figure was blurred out by the fog. When I reached the spot of flattened grass where I had plopped down earlier, I was shaking out of fear, not of my parents, but of him.

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife.

A warmth was surrounding me as I was absentmindedly poking around my plate of peas in front of me. The warmth came from the heater, and unlike the warmth I had received the day before while standing under the willow tree in the garden next to ours, it didn't reach my inside. My expression was a cold as I was feeling, being crumped up in the house that should have been my place of comfort, but rather turned into a place of constant surveillance and judgement.

"Aspen, dear, what happened to your lovely coat?", my Mom asked me, as expected, while we were having dinner in our fairly suburban dining room. I was sitting opposite of my parents on the wooden table that was as old as my rusty window since it had once belonged to my grandparents. The only thing that was new in this house was the glass front to my right. "I found it all dirty stashed under your bed. It was expensive. It has to be cleaned, dried and ironed properly."

"You were in my room?", I replied in a sharp tone, refusing to answer her question before I would accidentally expose myself. My question though was enough for my farther, who had just gotten home from work, to clear his throat as a sign of warning, reminding me of the right way I was supposed to be speaking to them, friendly, innocently, like a child. I curled my lips into a smile. Raising my tongue behind my top teeth, I said, "Of course you were"

"Honey, we're your parents. We are obligated to know what's going on in your life or what you're hiding from us in that case", my Mom said, noticing the sarcasm in my voice. "And don't think we haven't noticed the bruise on your lip. Have you gotten that while rustling through the streets with the Hollis boy or is it just another consequence of your constant daydreaming that's keeping you from actually doing your school work lately?"

"What?!", I said in disbelief, dropping the fork down on my porcelain plate to the sound of a horrendous clink, causing my father to slam his massive hand on the table top. My head started spinning and I was sure that my face must have looked as pale as grandmas finest porcelain. Not only did she just hint at knowing that I had been sneaking out to meet Dylan, she also blamed him for something that wasn't even close to the truth. 

Okay, maybe I had been a little distracted when I was in class that day, thinking about my hands in his and how weirdly my body reacted to a touch I had felt multiple times before, but any other day my parents were the root of my worries. I was often with my head in the clouds, but only because I was imaging how the future, how my future might look like. I wished for freedom more than anything else, a freedom, as it turned out, I was more than far away from.

"We've been watching you", my Mother admitted finally and I felt my heart drop down to the wooden floor that was covered in a crimson red rug. "I had heard weird noises coming from the roof of the garage a few days ago and immediately had a feeling something must be wrong. I went to check up on you, but you were gone. I didn't say anything that night, because I wanted to find out who you were doing all this childish nonsense for."

"Do you have any idea how scared I was?! Underaged drinking, drug abuse, physical violence, who knows what teenager are up to these days", she said, causing me to shift my gaze to the glass front and therefore to the majestic willow tree I could see in the distance. Her voice had started to become more and more angry. A tone I had been used hearing from her, but it had never been that intimidating to me, even though she was talking nonsense. "Although, I wouldn't be surprised if that Dylan guy would expose you to such things. You're not gonna see him anymore!"

"Mom, he's my best friend! He does neither of those things! You can't forbid me to spent time with him!", I snapped, turning my head back to face her. Her face was flushed with anger. I had never raised my voice at her before, but I couldn't believe the imagine she had of him. I was expecting to be in trouble once she found out about my nightly adventure, but I had never thought about the possible consequence of not being allowed to see him. We didn't do anything. Teary eyed, I sought for some empathy from my farther. "Dad, say something!"

"Do not raise your voice at us, young lady!", my Mom chimed back in, before my dad could even get rid of his omnipresent pokerface. My mother always spoke for the two of them. "He can't be your best friend if he's distracting you from school. He probably doesn't care about his grades, but you should care about yours. He's not good for your academic performance and for you in general. We're gonna talk to his parents and tell them about his foolish actions. Hopefully they can talk some sense into him. This has to stop once and for all!"

Dylan may not have been the perfect student or a perfectly well behaved child, and although he sometimes made fun of me, he was still kind and compassionate when it was necessary. In fact, he was one of the few things I had consider to actually be good for me. He got me out of my comfort zone, made me explore new places and kept me from being buried in books for too long whenever I needed a break but wouldn't allow myself to take one. The day they moved in was blessing to me, but rather a curse to my mom. 

My mom had made a cake for them as a welcome gift and forced me to tag along when she brought it over. Always having been a lot bolder than me, Dylan opened the door. A few days later, he had dared me to climb all the way up the willow tree, but I was way too scared and didn't make it past the lowest branches. Still, I had managed to fall down, breaking my arm in the same motion. Ever since then, my mom was convinced that he meant trouble, ever since then the two of us were inseparable. 

I stared at the green pieces of perfection in front of me and suddenly couldn't bear their sight anymore. I had never been allowed to leave the dining table before everyone had finished their dinner, neither I did I feel hungry anymore, nor could I sit still for another second with my parents blaming the one person that brought some light into the darkness that had become my life for all that went wrong in their eyes.

I stood up, wiping away the tear that was rolling down my reddened cheek and stepped closer to the glass front. The weather was similar to the night's before, but the fog had cleared up slightly, at least for my vision. The willow tree was drawing me outside, but as soon as I placed my hand on the door handle, I was stopped. "Where do you think you're going?!", my Mom scowled from behind me. "You're grounded, if you're finished, go in your room, but don't you dare try sneaking out on the roof!"

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in.

Staring at the closed door to my left that was separating my room from the hallway that lead to my parents bedroom, a thunderstorm of thoughts was roaming around in my pounding head, while simultaneously a drought of empty emotions settled in my body. I had watched the light in the hallway go on and off, sometimes it had flicked through the small gap under the door, when footsteps approached and passed. For a while now there had been no light, no sound, no motion. 

I had no idea what time it was, even though there was an alarm clock on the nightstand to my right, but I hadn't bothered to turn around just yet. My gaze had been set on the door, as I laid in my bed with my head on the pillow, it would have been too heavy to be hold up anyway. On top of that, my parents had taken my phone away from me for the night. My reckless behavior had caused me yet another rule I had to follow, meaning I had to hand them my phone after dinner every day from now on. 

The salty liquid that had previously been leaking from eyes had dried out, same as my anger, but I knew that both of those things would come back as soon as I was fully gonna realized that I was not gonna be able to meet up with Dylan at our secret spot anymore from now on, that I was not gonna go over to his house after school to eat his mother's delicious chocolate chip cookies anymore from now on, that he was not gonna make fun of me for slipping, tripping, stumbling anymore from now on. 

As expected, the thunderstorm of thoughts won over the emptiness and caused a river of tears to escape down my face and land on my pillow. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to finally fall asleep. A rustling near my window by the foot of my bed made me shoot them wide open though. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage up until it reached my throat when I lifted my head up in fear. A tall figure was standing outside on the roof, rightfully struggling to get in. 

"Dylan?", I let out quietly as if I hadn't just identified the person trying to break in by their silhouette. I jumped out of my duvets, now being more scared that my parents would hear my rusty old window creaking than by the intruder himself and helped him by carefully shoving it open. In front of me stood indeed my very concerned looking neighbor, disguised by the hood of his windbreaker. I must have looked about the same amount of concerned. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you by the tree and then I couldn't reach you so I figured something must have went wrong", he whispered and I took a step back so he could climb in. I didn't know if it should have been alarming to me that he had managed to climb up the slippery metal pipe or if I should have felt flattered that he came to check up on me, but the unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach decided that for itself. It grew even stronger when Dylan's eyes bore into mine and therefore revealed to him that I had been crying. "Another argument with your parents?"

"Yeah, but it was worse than any other one I had", I admitted, turning away from him only to slip back under my covers, leaning my back against the rose coloured wall. He was still standing next to the window, leaning against the windowsill, watching me attentively. He knew damn well arguments with my parents oftentimes ended up with me crying alone in my bedroom, but not once he had actually took it upon himself to sneak into my house. I took a deep breath, before meeting his gaze. "It was about you."

Being lit up by nothing but the moon, I could still see that his eyebrow formed a frown after my confession. Even in near darkness, every feature of his face was clearly visible, perhaps because I had mesmerized it so well after six years. I knew I had to tell him about my mother's demands at some point, so why not do it as fast as possible. It was gonna destroy me if I needed to keep in for any time longer. I was prepared to somewhat end my long term friendship with him, unwillingly of course.

"They know that I've been sneaking out to meet you. Luckily they think I've been only doing it for a few days. If they only knew it's been years", I mumbled, lowering the tone of my voice at the end of my sentence, not only because I was afraid they might here, but also because I couldn't bear to even think about the consequences of that. "They-They don't want me to spend time with you. They think I'm being brainwashed by you or some shit. They even want to speak to your parents. I'm so sorry."

For me, it was one thing that I had gotten into a fight with my parents and had been punished for sneaking out, but it was even worse that they wanted him to be punished as well. Dylan's parents were nothing like mine, they would have never forbidden him to see me. They were respectful, to say the least, of me and our friendship, but they were also respectful of my parents. If my mom was gonna talk them into taking action, they would do as they were told. That's how manipulative she could be.

"Aspen, you don't have to apologize. I don't care. I don't care if I get in trouble, I don't care if I'll get grounded and I don't care if your parents don't like me", he said with a serious expression, removing the hood from his head by aggressively sliding his hand through his hair, before leaving his spot by the windowsill to place his hands on my bedframe. He bent down, with a sigh, and then looked back up at me with a straight, but self confident, face. "I simply don't care."

"How can you not care?!", I spat out, accidentally increasing the volume of my shaky voice. This was not meant to be an insult. I genuinely could not understand how he managed to care so little, not just today, but everyday, about what other people thought of him. I so desperately wanted to know how it felt like to not be controlled, to not feel judged, to not feel pressured to be perfect, or at least to appear as perfect to the outside. I wished I wouldn't care either, but the guilt was eating me up. 

"Nothing's ever gonna stop me from seeing you", he replied in a soft tone, sitting down on my bed next where my legs were curled up in the blanket. I watched the matress shift under his weight, my mouth was wide open in shock of the weight his words carried. He said it in such a light manner, that it took a few changing digits on my alarm clock to my right until another thunderstorm of thoughts hit me with such an enormous force that I was left speechless and with nothing else but the urge to search for the hazel in his eyes with the blue in mine. 

I was interpreting way too much into that, I was sure, but the look, or more so intense stare, he gave me brought me right back to when I was sat on one of the lowest branches of the willow tree as a ten year old. Around me the leaves had been rustling in the wind, my hands had felt sore from the rough bark and my legs had been as numb as they were now, while Dylan had been standing below, cheering me on. There had been two options for me that day: Conquer my fears and keep climbing all the way up or let the fear win and go back down. 

I had decided to go back down, but while doing so I lost balance which caused me to fall down and land right on my arm, in front of Dylan's feet. If that had happened to me after I had climped all the way up, the consequences of my fall would have been much worse. If I had never agreed to his dare at all, I wouldn't have had to wear a plaster cast for the whole winter. But also, I probably wouldn't have become best friends with the new neighbor. Sometimes things were worth taking the risk, sometimes things were worth not caring. 

Dylan's eyes were sill piercing into mine, when I slowly became aware of my sorroundings again. With that, I also became aware of his hands getting closer to my face. Too mesmerized to flinch, I allowed him place his index finger on the bruise on my lower lip that I had absentmindedly started chewing on, which sent another electric impulse through by body. I must have not been the only one that had gotten somewhat lost in thoughts, because he cleared his throat, before asking, "How's your lip?"

"B-Better", I stuttered, despite barely being able to open my mouth and even though I could taste iron on my tongue thanks to the foolish habit of mine. I didn't feel any pain though, the bare minimum of skin from the tip of his finger sent provided me with enough heat for me to feel any other kind of emotion that the one that was suddenly rising in my stomach. Through my tear stained eyelashes, I noticed that his gaze had dropped down to where he was pointing. For a second I though he was gonna-

He leaned closer, his hand grabbing onto my chin and before I could register what was happening, his lips met mine, lightly, but somehow still forcefully. As I closed my eyes, the tremendous urge to flee from the situation camer over me, the fear of being broken grew stronger, but I decided to not let it win. Dylan was the only one that knew my life wasn't as picture perfect as it seemed. He was the last person I should have been scared of. 

I was taken aback, not entirely sure what I was supposed to do. This was my best friend sitting in front of me. I had known him for six years and here he was kissing me. Someone was kissing me, and it was him, out of all people. I still needed to process that. Luckily, I was gonna get at least a chance to do so, because he pulled away shortly after, leaving my numb, pounding lips. His face remained in close distance to mine though and I took it upon myself to say something. "I-That was my first kiss."

"I know, mine too", he said, the corner's of his mouth turning up to form a smile that was unfortunately only halfway lit up by the moonlit shining through my window. Once again I was left speechless, in a positive way of course. I was surprised, I thought he had kissed someone before, which was dumb considering we told each other everything, but I figured he may have just kept this one thing from me. "Uhm, do you want a second one?"

"My parents wouldn't like this", I said with an expression as cold as my dad's pokerface. He nodded in understanding, scooting away from me a little. The twitching in his eyebrows didn't stay unnoticed to me though. He wanted to be respectful of my parents rules, as if he hadn't just broken into their house, but there was an ounce of annoyance seen on his face, even in the darkness of the night. I could see it, because I knew him well. 

He knew me well, he could have seen that I was messing with him, but the more he was surprised when I closed the gap between us and clashed my lips onto his. I chuckled into the kiss and naturally, as if I had any clue on what I was doing, I lifted my hands up from the covers and placed them on each side of his face. They were anything but cold, but he still shivered under my touch. "Dylan, are you-Are you blushing?"

[nyazazel]

The opening to All Of My Friends (Tally Hall), 8ut after "I wonder what's really worthwhile" it is cut off 8y the metal pipe falling sound effect.