lumber men

Unknown Parts (Gaston)- Part One

Originally posted by luuuuuke-evans


Pairing: Gaston x OC

Warnings: None

A/N: I know I say this every single time I write someone new, but he was hard to pin down! I definitely went off the live action version, as I felt he had this vulnerable, sweet side to him that appeared once in a while. IDK. Part two isn’t written yet, but I’ll get there. In the meantime, enjoy

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Part Two

There was a place near the western end of the village where you could see the sunset perfectly. A place where the houses and shops petered off and there was nothing but a deep, green valley with purple, snow capped mountains in the distance. From there, I could watch as the sky turned a miraculous shade of dusty pink and the sun sank lower and lower beneath the horizon. Stars would then slowly emerge to replace its light. I never got tired of watching. Some people would scoff and say, ‘once you’ve seen one sunset, you’ve seen them all’. But that wasn’t true at all. Each one was different. Maybe only subtly so, but still. The colors were never quite the same. Which maybe explained why I was having such a hard time capturing it in paint or chalk.

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Until It’s Gone - Ch.7

Overview: Both brothers had loved and lost her. One night, Sam gets a phone call that changes everything.

Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, bar fight

Word Count: 1,973

A/N: This is the seventh chapter in my newest ongoing series. As always, thank you @wheresthekillswitch and @hannahindie for affirming me in my writing. You both mean the world to me. Feedback is always loved and appreciated!

Read (Ch.1) (Ch.2) (Ch.3) (Ch.4) (Ch.5) (Ch.6)

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Then: 

“Look man,” the guy started, “I’m not sure who you are, but if I want to talk to Y/N I have every right to –”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Dean’s fist connecting with his jaw knocked the words right out of his mouth and simultaneously ignited a wild pandemonium that quickly spread throughout the entire bar.

Now:

Before you could process what was happening, Sam had lifted you up and over the bar top. “Stay down,” he said, noticing the fire growing in your eyes, “Please.” Then he turned to grab one of three guys who were unsuccessfully trying to hold Dean down. The shattering of a beer bottle joined the yells and screams resounding throughout the bar.

Your earlier state of shock was quickly replaced with a growing anger. You stood just as a beer bottle whizzed towards you, and you had to sharply dodge to the left to avoid the shattering glass as it struck the wall. A few droplets of liquid hit your face, and you quickly wiped them off while surveying the chaos around you.

The bartender had joined in the efforts to break up the fight while several other slightly drunken men decided to wander over and swing a few punches of their own. You watched with satisfaction as Sam’s fist firmly connected with one of their jaws; the guy crumbled to the ground like paper. Your blonde haired nightmare was wiping blood from his nose and watching Dean as he broke free from a burly man’s grip and effectively knocked him to the ground with a solid, forward kick to the gut. Dean turned to his main target then, calm and poised as he advanced.

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Stars Fall Closer And The Ladybugs Settle On The Flowers In Full Bloom

I am so sorry for going on a sort of hiatus. I really did not have much time to write these past weeks. School is starting for me again this week so it might be another two weeks until the last chapter but I will try to have it out as soon as possible.

Now its the chapter with my favorite ship. Marichat. The one I’m sure many have been waiting for. I hope I did it justice.

Ao3 Link

Marinette had been walking home after running that afternoon’s errands when the situation occurred. She had opted to take the shorter route through the woods as opposed to the main road. The festival had started that morning and Marinette hadn’t wanted to miss out on any more than shehad to. She sighed in relief, thanking her stars that getting the groceries was her last errand for the day. Her heart was melancholy because of more than one reason.

Happy memories from when she was younger plagued her thoughts and she was a little depressed that Adrien wouldn’t be able to come. The aspiring seamstress had met Nino in the town and he had sadly told her that Adrien’s father wasn’t letting up on even a single evening. It had made her heart sink to her stomach. She had been hoping he could come for a single night, even for half an hour. The thought of not being alone at the festival had kept her going the past two weeks and while her friends made sure to spend time with her, she didn’t want to hold them up in any way. Especially Nino and Alya who deserved some time together to have fun without her third-wheeling.  A weak smile and five minutes of reassuring her friend that she would be alright was all she had time for before she made her way back through the forest as the sun set.

It wasn’t a particularly dangerous area for a few villas were located at the outskirts in the forest just like the Bourgeois Manor. Marinette’s own home was near the edge of the forest albeit a short walk away from where she currently lived. It came as a surprise to her when she heard heavy footfall, crunching the fallen leaves on the worn dirt road. Immediately she smiled sweetly but her body stiffened, not knowing whether the approaching people were hostile. There was no reason for anyone to be on this path at this time so she didn’t quite know what to think.

Through the trees three men came lumbering out, their faces stuck in unpleasant sneers. Their clothes were muddy but rough and Marinette’s eyes flitted to their belts where knives were strapped as well as few pouches, no doubt containing stolen gold or cash. Their eyes landed on her and darkened considerably. Marinette gulped but remained calm. She didn’t want to engage in conversation but it was inevitable. She wanted it to be on her own terms though. Best to have the upper hand.

“Good evening gentlemen.” Marinette’s voice was steady and kind. No fear visible on her face. She had been with her mother and father when they traded at port and she knew the best way of dealing with different kinds of people. “What are you doing here this fine evening when there is a festival in town you could be enjoying ?”

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Fictober #1 - Heart

I know the original Fictober post said writing wasn’t supposed to start until Monday, but rules were made to be broken! Or something. It’s October, this is a ficlet, and it’s inspired by the “heart” prompt, so I figured why not go ahead and post it.

-

Ashley doesn’t want to be here. She really really really doesn’t want to be here right now. On her list of places she’d like to avoid forever and always, Blackwood Pines is right at the top, but this hospital room might be a close second. 

She looks to the left, where Sam is curled up in a hard plastic chair, dead to the world. Even fast asleep, she looks invulnerable. Her mouth is pulled in a tight, determined line, a glare crinkling the space between her brows. Ashley wonders if she’s fighting wendigos in her nightmares. 

Ashley sees wendigos in her dreams too, wendigos and ghosts, but mostly lumbering men with snarling clown faces. But even in her dreams, she doesn’t fight them. She only runs and runs and runs.

Sometimes she escapes. Sometimes she doesn’t. 

She thinks about waking Sam up, for moral support. Gets as far as taking a step forward, reaching out toward Sam’s shoulder before she swallows hard and forces herself to stop. This is something she should do on her own. Isn’t it? Then at least she can go back to her therapist and say, yes, I did it, finally, aren’t you proud?

She looks back to the bed in the middle of the room. 

From just the right–or wrong–angle, Josh barely even looks human anymore. But that’s to be expected, really. Ashley knows he was feral when they finally dragged him off the mountain. She knows it took an honest-to-God SWAT team and specialists trained in large animal control. People used to handling freaking lions and bears. 

She doesn’t know anything about what happened after that. She doesn’t want to know. She’s gotten good at bolting from the room whenever talk veers in those directions. These days she never goes anywhere without a pair of earbuds and music cranked up to full. It doesn’t drown out the memories or the pitying looks, but at least it takes care of everything else. 

She’s worked up the courage to make it to the foot of the bed, almost close enough to reach out and touch the lumps of Josh’s toes beneath the ugly peach blanket, when he cracks one eye open. 

Instinctively, Ashley freezes. But his eye is normal and blue, not mist-white and full of hate like–

“Ash,” Josh croaks, stopping the memory spiral, and despite herself Ashley feels a rush of something that might be gratitude if she let it. 

She doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t seem to expect an answer, so she lets her eyes drift to his shoulder. She can’t see anything beneath his hospital gown, but she can remember it well enough: how surprisingly easy it was for her, a girl too afraid to even squish bugs, to drive scissors deep through fabric and skin and muscle. She still remembers the awful squelching noise, the hot rush of blood against her fingers. 

Josh sees her looking. He smiles. It tries to be the old carefree grin she remembers, but comes out grotesque instead, worn out lips catching on teeth that are still too long, too sharp. 

Josh waits until she meets his eyes, then he taps the center of his chest, just to the left of his breastbone.

“You missed,” he says. 

idk about all of you but it’s extremely hard for me to empathise with men who appropriate womanhood and reduce being female to high heels and cheap lipstick. when a man actually goes out to get surgery to “"feminize”“” his body and invert his dick into a “”“vagina”“” (because apparently all a vagina is is an absent dick… hey, guess freud was right!) and gets implants stuffed into his chest, i will call it what it is - gross/disgusting. it’s a travesty to be telling women that we shouldn’t “put a political ideology where our empathy should be” when these men call a LITERAL FUCKHOLE a vagina. A VAGINA IS AN ORGAN, IT IS NOT COMPARABLE TO A NEOVAGINA. IT SELF LUBRICATES, IT BIRTHS A CHILD, IT CAN ADJUST ITSELF TO ACCOMMODATE SEXUAL INTERCOURSE, it. is. not. just. a. surgically. constructed. hole. I will not have my body reduced to a set of holes and fake tits, and my empathy for my sisters comes before my empathy for men like this. stop policing women’s anger and maybe address the actual issue? oh no, can’t offend the transwomen, can’t say anything when they’re threatening us with death when we say no to sex, when we want a safe space for our women and little girls who shouldn’t have to deal with lumbering men in dresses, when we don’t want our bodies being scrapped for parts and sold, when we dare to speak out against their violent misogyny. 

sorry not sorry if my “”“"political ideology”“”/aka respect for the humanity of women comes before my empathy for violent, boundary crossing men