four pane

Beauty and the Beast: Prologue I

Pairings: Dean x Reader (eventually), Sam, John, Marry

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, gambling, swearing

A/N: I’m fucking terrified for this. Here is the first installment of the most voted series Beauty and the Beast! This is gonna be a bumpy ride kiddos, so buckle up! There will be a new part every Saturday from here on out until this series is finished (there may be some deviations, we’ll see). Enjoy, my friends!

Part Summary: Brothers Sam and Dean Winchester attend their father’s party and some of their family dynamics are revealed.

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Once upon a time, in the hidden heart of France, a handsome young prince lived in a beautiful castle.​

Dean Winchester sat on the thin mattress in yet another dingy motel room. He could feel every lump and spring, but he didn’t exactly mind; he was focused on the bills passing between his hands, “Four hundred, four-twenty, four-forty,” he mumbled.

A relentless pounding rattled the door in it’s frame, “Dean, let’s go!” His baby brother, Sam Winchester said from the other side.

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The Scarlet Omega - [WENDIGO x OMEGA!WILL] - Happy Halloween!

Ostracized for his strange talents and uncanny knowledge of the human heart, the beautiful, embittered omega Will Graham moved to a new colony in hopes of a new beginning. Of his many new acquaintances, one dashingly handsome gentleman alpha figured most strongly in his withered heart: Dr. Hannibal Lecter. But what of the tumultuous, forbidden affair he cannot seem to give up?

Will locked up his penny shop, looking out of the four-paned window fondly as the village children raced by, on their way home. The sun had set, and the moon was rising. It was time for him to retreat to his living quarters. He would eat dinner, feed his beloved dogs, and curl up with a good book until it was time to sleep.

The new village he’d just moved to had much more progressive attitudes towards omegas. He could wear his skirts shorter by two inches, and own a business! Will loved not tripping over his feet, and being able to support himself. 

There was only one problem.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt- The team's latest numbers are the maid of honor and best man at a wedding. Root and Shaw sneak in to keep an eye on them. Not paying attention to the ceremony, Root keeps thinking what hers and Shaw's wedding would look like and what her vows to Shaw would be. Shaw notices her lack of attention and knows exactly what she's thinking. After they neutralize the threat and get back home, Shaw asks if a wedding is something she wants. Root says, "Yes." So, Shaw proposes right on the spot.

Going to the Chapel

“If you’re in there much longer, we’re going to be late,” Sameen Shaw yells through the bathroom door, tapping her high heeled foot with hands on her hips. Casting her gaze to a full length mirror that squats in the back corner of the bedroom, Shaw takes in her attire:

A short, ocean-grey dress sporting a single over-the-shoulder strap, along with matching grey wedges that boost her into the mid five foot range. Smoothing the ruffled front down slightly, Shaw turns her head from side to side, the large stylized sweep of dark hair on her head seeming slightly over the top. Suddenly, the doorknob turns, and Shaw takes a step back, allowing the door to swing open.

Root starts out from the bathroom, strappy heels looping endless circles up her ankles, just to be met with a long stretch of exposed skin to the knee. From there, a navy blue dress hugs Root’s form, where just above the hips, her sides show. As Root turns her back to Shaw, Shaw can’t help but to notice that the opening in the dress continues to the back, forming a teardrop from her lower back to her shoulder blades and neck.

“Zip me up?” Root asks, tossing her affectionate gaze over one shoulder. It takes Shaw a moment to snap to. Blinking, she pulls her mind from studying Root’s dazzling attire, and her eyes scan for a zipper. Root, pulling her overflowing locks of wavy hair over her shoulder, reveals a thick strap of blue fabric dangling at the back of her neck, metallic zipper gleaming. Quickly, and perhaps a little too roughly, Shaw yanks it up. She’s flustered, but can’t place why, which only adds to the feeling.

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Simple Harmonic

At four the panes were stained aureolin;
saturated luster skimmed the table.
Your heart had been broken, you wrote to me,
keystroke drawing yourself in a bath tub,
in a Chatterton swoon, French windows wide.
I went back years to five a.m. in June:
a faded couch. Pink light careening in.
Struggling to soothe a perforated heart,
emptied of ice my lungs had opened up,
exhaling the inverse of little deaths.
Without the terror of its permanence,
the wake left by that ache was sudden bliss.

Only as I took in each line again,
I registered just how unscathed you seemed,
divested of your second pair of hands.
Not galvanised. Still in love. Set apart.
Oscillation frequencies moved through me:
dawn’s stark euphoria, your 10 a.m.
peeking in on yourself with approval,
September afternoon’s incandescence.
You had been set free. No mention of heart.
A cirrus eclipse shaded  the room blue.
The purple afterimage hid dust motes,
dessicated footnotes to desire.