Keitor on Halloween night sharing candy in couple costumes please and thank you
Okay so if any of you know what the costumes reference I will love you forever
ANYWAYS, since this is so late, and wayy past Halloween, I decided to formulate this elaborate mini-fic in my head. It’s under cut. (Also excuse my horrible characterization and writing. I’m doing this on a whim lol)
A/N: I didn’t actually intend to write a second part to this, but I guess my brain had ideas. Whoops. I wasn’t too sure about posting it though, because it might be a little disappointing after the first chapter if the psychological horror aspect was what people enjoyed most in that??
This one is a little different - it still has some of those elements, especially at the start, but then kind of just becomes more about the (light-ish??) physical torture throughout. I mean, I dig both, but that might not be the same for everyone. Still, hopefully it’s just as fun to read!
And then part three just goes completely fuckin’ downhill because I got so ridiculously self-indulgent on that one, whoops.
RATING: SFW, some gore and violence
CONTENT WARNINGS: Mind control, knives, blood, whips, branding, general Dark being an asshole
It’s not been long since the weather turned, but long enough
to remind you why winter sucks balls. You’d rather be anywhere other than
outside right now. Home would be ideal; home with your bed and a nest of
blankets and stupid shit to laugh at on the internet. Unfortunately, braving
the cold is the price you have to pay to get there.
Which is why there really should be no reason for you to
stop. And yet your footsteps begin to slow of their own accord.
For a moment you don’t understand why, until your stomach
twists as well. It’s the way your pulse quickens, the ringing in your ears, the
hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The way you feel around his presence.
Your heart catches in your throat, even as you scowl and
remind yourself it’s not fucking real.
This has gone on for months; the better part of a year, almost. Feeling your
skin crawl, feeling watched, called, controlled. Jumping at shadows, hearing
the echoes of his voice in your head. Seeing his reflection out of the corner
of your eye when you glance at the mirror.
All the same, murderess is a strong word to have attached to you. It has a smell to it, that word, musky and oppressive, like dead flowers in a vase. Sometimes at night I whisper it over to myself. Murderess, murderess. It rustles like a taffeta skirt across the floor. Murderer is merely brutal, it’s like a hammer, or a lump of metal.
I’d rather be a murderess than a murderer, if those were the only choices.
Imagine Jack spilling to you what Dean thinks, and practically feels, of you when he reads his mind.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Dean raised a hand, stopping Jack from drinking his beer “How old do you think you are?” he asked, mouth half full as you and Sam shared a look.
“Uh 3 days, 17 hours and 42 minutes.” Jack replied precisely to the question and seeing the look on Dean’s face almost made you choke on your own drink. It was priceless to say the least. Barely at four days old and the young man had already outsassed the older Winchester, well this was going to be fun. Dean just shook his head and took a sip of his beer, Jack watching closely and doing the same at the exact almost moment.
“So-” Jack cleared his throat, looking at you “You are my aunt, right?”
“Uh well-” you smiled “Was, actually. I’m no longer an angel, I fell and after building a vessel things happened and… there is no angel mojo in me anymore. So I am practically human.”
“Well, that was a bit stupid of you,” said Ginny angrily, “seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.”
Harry Potter and the Order of The Phoenix
Harry searching for comfort in the middle of the night, 4 months after the battle of Hogwarts. He literally woke Ginny up at 3 A.M because he had a nightmare that wasn’t letting him sleep at all. It was regarding to the scene where Bellatrix almost killed her. He really needed to talk to her, but that wasn’t what they actually did in her room.
A comic about the morning after can be found here.