It is @wiishu‘s birthday today and i wanted to draw her something because she is a big inspiration for me. The original plan was to draw her!- but after five failed sketches i realized that for some reason i cannot properly draw women today. So i scratched that idea and drew her OC Clyde Rust! Honestly i adore all her OCs and i rlly need to draw them more often.
I could sit here for hours typing down how much she has inspired me as an artist and even helped me through her speedpaints and blog. But i want to keep this short and simple.
Anyways, i hope you have a wonderful day today Signe. Thank you for sharing your creativity with us and i wiishu a happy birthday! (I’msosorryforthatone)
1. d r e a m s // Alan Watts “If you awaken from this illusion, and you understand that black implies white, self implies other, life implies death. You can begin see your existence as absolutely fundamental.”
2. Oblivion // M83 “Since, I was young, I knew I’d find you. But our love, was a song, sung by a dying swan, and in the night, you hear me calling. […] And when the nights are long. All those stars recall, your goodbye, your goodbye.”
3. Gooey // Glass Animals “I come close. Let me show you everything I know. The jungle slang spinning around my head and I stare. While my naked fool, Fresh out of an icky gooey womb. A woozy womb. Dope so good, a silky smooth perfume.”
4. In My Mind // M86 “In my mind. Intertwined. Are our limbs twisted? Chase your ghosts. Chills for hours. Chemicals lifted. I’ll lay the stones, and you’ll come walking. Fill in all the holes from our explosions.”
5. The Scientist // Coldplay “I was just guessing at numbers and figures. Pulling the puzzles apart. Questions of science. Science and progress. Do not speak as loud as my heart.”
6. A Better Way // Andy Hull “Interest, Nothing but interest. I think I’ve lost it forever ago […] Heartless. How are you heartless? I see your sadness, and make it my own.”
7. Straight As An Arrow // Club 8 “If you want it straight, baby I’ll give it I’ll carry your thoughts, I’m running straight to your heart. And I wish this age would take me lower. It’s better to be torn, it’s better to be nothing at all.”
8. Glassy Sky // Yutaka Yamada “Sun is gone and no more shadows. Can’t give up. I know and this life goes on. I’ll be strong I’ll be strong ‘til I see the end
Glassy sky above. As long as I survive you will be part of me.”
9. Falling // Florence + The Machine “I’ve fallen out of favor. And I’ve fallen from grace. Fallen out of trees, and I’ve fallen on my face. Fallen out of taxis, out of windows too. Fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you.”
10. Angels On The Moon // Thriving Ivory “Yeah you can tell me all your thoughts about the stars that fill polluted skies, and show me where you run to when no one’s left to take your side. Don’t tell me where the road is ‘Cause I just don’t want to know. No I don’t want to know.”
11. 1000 Times // Hamilton Leithauser “I had a dream that you were mine I’ve had that dream a thousand times […] I walked from noon until the night I changed my crowd, I ditched my tie. I watched the sparks fly off the fire. I found your house, I didn’t even try.”
12. 18th Floor Balcony // Blue October “My breath on your head, I’m unaware that you opened the blind to let the city in dark, you held my hand as we stand, taking in everything, and I knew it from the start. So our arms are opened wide, and your head is on my stomach, and we’re trying so hard not to fall asleep. Here we are on this 18th floor balcony, We’re both flying away.”
13. Running Up The Hill // Chromatics “It didn’t hurt me. But you want to feel how it feels? Do you want to know that it didn’t hurt me? Do you want to hear about the deal that I’m making? You, it’s you and me. And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God, and I’d get him to swap our places.”
14. Strangeness and Charm // Florence + The Machine “An atom to atom oh can you feel it on me love. A pattern to pattern, oh can you see it on me love. Atom to atom, oh what’s the matter with me love. It started from your arms and it’s a catalyst. You’re a chemical that burns there’s nothing like this. It’s the purest element but it’s so volatile. An equation heaven sent, and you’ll forever inject.”
15. Atmosphere // Joy Division “Walk in silence. Don’t walk away, in silence. See the danger. Always danger. Endless talking. Life rebuilding. Don’t walk away.”
16. KILL FOR LOVE // Chromatics “I can’t remember if I like what I said. I can’t remember it went straight to my head. I kept a bottle by the foot of the bed. I put a pillow right on top of my head, But I killed for love.”
17. Sledgehammer // Rihanna “I’m bracing for the pain and I am letting go I’m using all my strength to get out of this holeI hit a wall, I thought that I would hurt myself. Oh I was sure, your words would leave me unconscious.”
18. Into The Past // Nero “I saw the sign of rust, and I read your name. Heard it fade into the past where I’ll follow you […] He’ll show me the way there. I can see the light, but in the darkness. I’ll follow you.”
19. Alibi // 30 Seconds To Mars “No warning sign, no alibi. Were fading faster than the speed of light.. Took our chance, crashed and burned. No, we’ll never ever learn.”
20. Soon, My Friend // M83 “I’ll be yours, someday…”
She suspects that if this were a sacrament, he’d already be absolved. But Scully is not a priest and she is not a miracle.
Central Florida after midnight is an oil painting, dry brush on rough canvas. Inky but thin, like you could tear it. They pull off the road just past a rusted speed limit sign, webs of Spanish moss flaring in their headlights, and for a second (longer, really) she already believes him: Science bends here like moss, like Dali’s clocks melting in the humidity. Mulder cracks the windows, turns off the car.
“Now,” he says, “we wait.”
She wonders if he hears the click of his slide projector when he narrates for her. As he unbuckles his seatbelt, he palms exactly four sunflower seeds from a bag in the cup holder, so smoothly it could be sleight of hand if he were the type to misdirect, and she thinks, You again. Mulder, waiting for an epiphany she doesn’t have to give him. Lately he’s been sitting with her like she’s still in the hospital, like he’s ready to jump up or fall to his knees.
“What exactly do you plan to do if she shows?” Scully asks.
Description: You are a curator at one of the many museums in Paris, and have finally earned the bosses trust. But after a strange meeting with a new coworker and his friends, you begin receiving messages from an unknown party.
Your emotions had settled down, leaving you on the opposite side of Jeongguk’s room as you stared at the floor. You hated being here, and the worst part was no one would tell you why. Jimin had been missing for over a week, leaving a nasty taste in your mouth as you thought of all the things that video, that nightmare, entailed.
Who was it that kept sending me warnings? And why the fuck didn’t I listen? You thought. All of which had led you to this moment, cowering in the corner of a room foreign to you, various chunks of your memory evading you as you tried to make sense of it all. You had begun to bite your fingernails, again; a habit you had dropped ten years ago.
Jeongguk sat on his bed, drawing in a small notebook, taking small glances out the window every once in a while to capture his muse; a small bird perched on a tree across the yard.
There was something off about him, but you couldn’t pin it. He was reclusive but extroverted. He was egotistical and charismatic, but also frigid and distant. His index finger rubbed against the paper, creating a shading effect.
If it hadn’t been for the fact he almost crushed your hand, you might’ve wanted to make small talk, but fear enveloped you. And every second you spent in that room with him was every second you wished you were dead.
You swallowed your pride, voice cracking with anxiety as you spoke up, beckoning for him. “Please tell me,” He turned his head to look at you, eyebrows corrugated as he wondered what you wanted. “Please tell me what happened,”
You looked up from the floor to match his gaze, your breath hitching as you saw his warm glare begin to ice over once more. “It’s not my place to tell you anything.” His voice trailed off as he turned back to his work.
“I feel like I have a right to know what the fuck happened—“ you barked. Jeongguk tightened the grip on his pencil as to try and evade a rising temper. “I would appreciate it if you just shut up, okay?”
You let out your breath, unsurprised to his answer. Jeongguk groaned, tossing his book across the bed as he began to stand up, sauntering towards you. “If you want to talk, Hoseok is across the hall,” He gripped your bicep, pulling you up forcefully as he stared daggers at you. “I don’t like to talk.”
Jeongguk opened the door, pushing you out into the hall before slamming it behind you. You stumbled, catching yourself before hitting the wall adjacent to his door. You rubbed the flannel shirt gifted to you by Taehyung before you had left the hospital before he had restrained you. Your sweatpants were loosely fitted, almost falling down. You quickly tied a knot in the drawstrings before knocking on Hoseok’s door.
You heard indistinct swearing and objects clattering as footsteps trudged closer to the door. The man named Hoseok quickly opened it, slowly looking up as he exclaimed disapproval, “Look, Jin, I’m sorry—“
His beg for forgiveness paused as he looked at you, hair riding just above your ear. “When’d you get a haircut?” He slowly opened his door wider, giving enough space for you to enter. “I—I need to ask you some things,” you mewled.
He closed the door behind him, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at you. He bore an oversized blue and yellow letterman sweater, a white shirt, and black sweatpants, various stains covering his outfit. Hoseok sighed, walking away from his door and through his messy floor back towards his computer seated in the corner of his room on a small black desk.
The walls to his room were painted dark, mimicking a beige tone. His floor, although hardwood, was barely visible as clothes, magazines, and other miscellaneous objects were strewn across it.
God, how can someone live like this?
“Jeongguk didn’t want to talk, I assume,” Hoseok snickered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck as he scrolled through an online forum. “He’s a wild card, isn’t he?”
His attention stayed glued to the screen, not once turning back to look at you as you stood, unsure of what to do, unwilling to invade his space.
“What did you want? I’m a little busy,”
You fidgeted, remembering why you had been sent across the hall. “What happened to me? Why was I in the hospital?” Your mind began to trail off as question upon question sped out of your mouth. “Where’s Jimin? Why can’t I leave? Why won’t anyone tell me anything?” Your voice grew higher in pitch as you became more panicked, falling back onto Hoseok’s bed as you began to tug at your hair.
Hoseok turned in his chair, staring at you worriedly. “Hey, calm down…” he murmured, slowly standing up as he walked over to you, promptly sitting beside you. “Stress won’t help your head, you know?”
His half-handed attempts at consoling you, as expected, didn’t work. He let out a long sigh, resting his elbows on his knees as he began to fiddle his thumbs. “Our boss told Taehyung to take you to the hospital—he used a pseudo name, so please don’t try to go back and get records—and he was instructed to keep an eye on you for as long as you stayed there, posing as your husband.”
Hoseok began to unravel the story, keeping his voice down. You could feel the fear he had; he knew someone had to be listening. “Jimin is away on business, in Spain. He goes there often; please don’t worry about him.”
Hoseok stood up, walking towards his door as he turned the knob. “You can’t leave. Just leave it at that,” he growled, forcing himself to open and door and walk away from the conversation, leaving you alone while he walked across the hall. You heard him open the door to Jeongguk’s room, and promptly closing it behind him. You were alone once more.
You brought your knees to your chest, clawing at the fabric wrapped around them as to save your sanity. “I want to go home,” you wept.
The music note rang throughout the room, a voice following behind it.
“You’ve got mail!”
Hoseok had a fairly new computer, one in almost pristine condition, you would say. But there on the screen was a graphic every adult was familiar with. A small letter danced in the corner of the pop-up, ‘One New Message’ dancing across the screen.
You stood up, walking slowly past a window placed between the bed and desktop. You bent over, pressing your palms against the edge of the small desk as you glanced over the dated graphic.
“You’ve got mail!” It sang.
You clicked okay.
In a matter of seconds, an abundance of messages popped across the screen. Amidst the middle of the turmoil was a small video.
Press Play To Download iMovie
You glanced over your shoulder, hoping Hoseok had busied himself enough not to walk in as you prompted through his private computer. You turned back to the screen. You clicked play.
Noise erupted from a desktop as a grainy film began to play, slowly clearing up to reveal an image; a young man sitting in front of you, grinning as he began to speak.
“I didn’t want to show my face, but you’re not the best at following directions.”
He sighed, cupping his face in his palms as he began to tap his cheeks. “Maybe I can get through to you this way?”
You furrowed your brows, your breathing picking up the pace as you grew confused. “I’m not going to tell you my name because you don’t need to know it,” he quickly ran through his lines, “but you need to know that they’re lying.”
He leaned in closer to the screen, his cat-like eyes glaring at you behind a curtain of black, flimsy bangs. “You’ll end up like Jimin.”
Images of the shootout followed suit behind him, following with flashing headlines dated October 31st, November 2nd, November 3rd. All read the same, disgusting line. “Jimin Park caught by cops, trial process to begin soon.”
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat as the cat-eyed man continued with his tale. “He asked me to help you, and I am… although I wanted to help you in the first place,” his voice hummed. “He risked his life for you.”
Cat-eyes stared at you, his eyes narrowing. You felt that he saw through you completely; he seemed to know everything. “The least you can do is get out.”
You watched as his eyes lingered to the left, leading you to follow them; the window sat there, unlocked. A perfect time.
“Let’s see if you’re as stealthy as him.” You heard him laugh, a sense of delusion resonating within.
The screen glitched for a moment, before quickly residing back to Hoseok’s previous page.
‘The Newest Pet’
You, although feeling disgusting, continued reading through the page
BigBoy287: God I’d rail her. [9:23] J-Hope: i’m sure she wouldn’t like you, kyungmin [9:25] SirBdsm: like u kno her taste asshole [9:26] J-Hope: i took the picture, did i not? [9:30]
You felt your stomach flip as you realized just how much you knew about these men; nothing. You felt dirty, itching at your skin to wash away the filthy memory. You abruptly pushed yourself away from the desk, walking backward as you tried to gain some sense.
You could do it. It was as easy as opening the window and crawling out. You could run for help, and never have to deal with this again. It would all be a nightmare.
You fidgeted with the lifting mechanism on the window, slowly pushing up the seemingly rusted panel. It showed signs of age as paint chips began to call upon moving. It was clear it wasn’t opened for a long time.
You held the window up, bringing your foot up to the edge, taking one last breath in this hell house.
The door quickly opened, Jin walking in with his phone in his hands, “Yah, since you ruined my playtime, you should buy me th—“ Jin looked up at the scene before him, watching you as your legs were out the window, hands still holding the panel above your head. You cursed under your breath, hastily fighting your own strength as you tried to push yourself out.
Jin laughed to himself, rushing towards the window as he wrapped his arms around your chest, pulling your back into his. Your hands lost grip, causing the window to fall abruptly onto your hip. You screamed as a wave of pain washed over you.
Jin pulled you back into the room, tolerating your writhing beneath him. His strength level was miles above yours. Jin chuckled to himself, tightening his grip on you as he buried his head into your neck. “You weren’t going to leave me, were you?” His low, threatening voice coated your skin in goosebumps. You pressed your palm against his head in an attempt to push him back; he merely mocked you.
Hoseok and Jeongguk opened their door, staring at the scene before them. “Jin, do you not fucking learn anything?”
Jin rose his head from your neck, smirking as he pushed you towards Hoseok. You fell to your knees, panting before Hoseok’s feet as you held your waist, wincing as the pain grew worse. “Our little girl here tried to run away,” Jin cackled, clapping his hands together at the thought. “And to think, haha, that you could outrun us!” Jin began cackling, an end seeming to be nowhere in sight.
Jeongguk grunted, staring down at you. “Now you’re just begging for it, (Y/N).” His voice haunted you as it replayed through your thoughts. “Jin, can you watch her for me? I’m going on an errand.” Jeongguk took one las, heated look as he towered of you, before turning on his heel.
A sadistic smile crept across Jin’s face as he stared down at you. Hoseok’s face contorted in humility as he watched Jin close in on you. “Oh, Hoseok,” Jin spoke softly as he lifted you up, careful not to touch your hips. “Try not to cause a scene this time, okay?”
Jin placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward as you both left Hoseok’s room. Hoseok stood in silence, watching as you slipped from his small, insignificant net of safety.
Hoseok knew he was the last sane one in that house, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.
Jin pushed you into his room, closing the door behind him. You backed yourself into a corner, watching as he paced across the room, gazing at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Who are you?” You whispered.
Jin sneered, sighing as he threw his head back, rolling it side to side. His neck popped twice. “I’m Jin. And who are you?” He took a step closer, his hands in his pocket.
“Why are you acting like this?”
“What? Can’t I be a little playful? I told you, I’m not the kind of guy you think I am,”
“I thought you were a friend,” you muttered. Guilt soaked your tone of voice.
“There are two types of friends in my life, (Y/N)—“
“—The type I hug,”
“and the type I hurt.”
He glided his crooked fingers across your cheek, reaching around the back, bearing pressure on your head wound. You winced, sucking in air sharply. Jin removed his hand, combing his fingers through your hair. “I’d really like it if you were both, baby.” Jin leaned in, his lips targeting yours.
You turned your head, your cheek pressing aginst the wall as you tensed up. Jin groaned, “God you’re a fool.” He moved his hand to your neck, pressing his thumb against your throat. “You’ll realize sooner or later that you’re safer with me than any of the others.”
Jin yanked his hand back, stumbling backward as he brushed his fingers through his hair, and falling onto his bed. His feet stay grounded as his back pressed into the mattress. His chest rose and fall under his pink sweater, which had ridden up to give a peak of his sculpted stomach on the impact of his fall.
You hastily reached for the door, turning the knob as efficiently as possible before rushing yourself out of his room. You panted as you pushed yourself against the door, hoping that the more forceful you shut it, the quicker you’d wake up. You pressed your head against the coated wood.
“Please wake up, please wake up.” You begged.
The orange jumpsuit pressed against his skin, the uncomfortable fabric causing a mild itch. His hands were bound before him in metal, a headache washing over him.
“The trial of the century is about to begin as we hear from Jimin Park, the criminal behind the burglaries and murder’s plagueing—“ The reporters gave their speech remarkably as cameras zoned in on the disgruntled man. His hair was a shaggy mess, and his eyes were swollen from nights spent awake in his cell.
“Let us get this hearing started,” A woman cloaked in an all red, deeply embellished fur robe sat in her seat. She hit her gavel against the wood before her, calling for attention. “Mr. Park, it’s nice to finally have you in our midst. You’ve made quite the name for yourself,”
A guard cuffed Jimin’s hands to the table before him, assuring no lofty escape would be made.
“Do you have anything to say before we begin?”
Jimin, who had been staring at his sweating palms, gained a wry smile spreading across his cheeks as he looked up. His eyes were watering. “No, your honor.”
Pairing: Bellamy x reader Warnings: angst, self hate, swearing, PTSD, gory flashbacks from Mount Weather Summary: The reader suffers flashbacks and guilt from everything that happened in Mount Weather, and thinks nobody can save her. But when Bellamy, an old flame who she’s pushed away, notices and reaches out- is it enough? A/N: Not the 102 but still some bellamy!angst and supportive!bellamy- hope you enjoy:) Feedback is always appreciated also I’m too tired rn but I’ll put in gifs/pictures to make it prettier later<33
When you got back to the camp, you were a ghost. That rusted sign hanging above the entrance had never been read with such dismay before, and you knew this wasn’t one you were going to bounce back from so quickly.
Living on earth for so long, and in such a position of power, had hardened you. In fact, it had done so so much that you thought you’d never feel pain again…..until you pulled that lever.
Bellamy had been right there alongside you but it was still your fault, all those deaths were your fault. When you counted to 10 in your head and told yourself it was your only option you’d been lying, there had to have been another way.
When the radiation had been released you’d forced yourself to watch the screens surveying everyone inside Mount Weather. In each room, one after the other, they all dropped dead like flies- burning and screaming until they were finally still.
In the weeks after Mount Weather, while everyone was still healing and celebrating the victory, you’d spent your time memorizing the names of the people who’d been the cost of such a victory. Nathaniel Jones, Smith Connors, Sidney Goldberg, Jane Awnings, your list went well into the hundreds- 382 to be exact.
And when you weren’t up at night with your stomach churning from guilt, you were having nightmares. Because before you were in that control room you were in the harvest chambers, or being drilled into like a fucking construction project.
Most nights you’d wake up screaming, terrified of the closed spaces- you couldn’t be in a cage ever again. Honestly it was a miracle to you how your neighbors never woke up themselves, or maybe they did, and they just didn’t care.
But no matter how awful the nightmares got, how badly you wanted them to end, you never asked anybody for help. You didn’t even tell Abby, even when she commented on the dark circles beneath your eyes, and the obvious lack of sleep.
Instead you decided to take it, to suffer in silence because you deserved everything being thrown at you. You’d taken away hundreds of people’s chances to live another day, to laugh or dance or find love, you’d ripped it all away.
So you didn’t deserve health, you didn’t deserve happiness, and you didn’t deserve to ever sleep again.
Imagine being Bobby's daughter and falling in love with Sam
Prompt lent to me from @hiddenwritingsintheworld because she’s my wing woman and I need the practice! Took a slightly different turn as what she suggested I do, but I figured throwing Bobby in more would be awesome.
You drove up to your father’s old salvage yard, passed the Help Wanted sign that had been up before you were born, and the rusted sign signaling you were home. Getting out of your refurbished 1976 charger, that you and your dad rebuilt together, you noticed another beauty; the 1967 Chevy Impala.
Your heart began to beat a bit faster, you hadn’t seen Sam Winchester in over a year. Unlike Dean who was more of an older brother to you, there was something about the younger Winchester that you were drawn to; yet never acted upon.
The last time you saw him, you both fought alongside one another in a salt and burn that went sideways. Emerging victorious but bruised and beaten, you each took turns stitching one another up, the whiskey calming your nerves, but amplifying something in your deepest core.
You couldn’t help but be aware of the way his calloused hands gently washed over your hip, gently attending to the wound where the coffin you both dug, had splintered and landed in your side. The way he bit his lower lip in concentration, goddamn how you wanted to bite that lip!
It was your turn to stitch up his shoulder and your fingers grazed his skin, the goosebumps rising as quickly as his breath hitched at your touch. You took your time; Sam had removed his bloody t shirt, his tanned chest amplified his anti possession tattoo. When you finished your impeccable stitching, you reached in with your mouth, gently biting the thread; your lips barely grazing his skin. You felt him tense and locked your eyes with his. He began to lower his lips to yours when the door to the motel opened,
“I’ve got beer, pie, and…,” Dean smirked at the two of you, sitting closely to one another, shirts removed.
“Am I interrupting something, Sammy?” Dean raised an eyebrow suggestively.
Jumping back from Sam, you quickly stammered that he wasn’t interrupting anything, grabbed a few things from your duffel, and called dibs on the shower.
Sam sighed, looked at his brother, sharing an understandable silent conversation, and when Dean pointed to the bathroom door, Sam just shook his head,
“No, Dean,” he sunk into the pillows, “not Y/N.”
“Seriously, little brother, you could cut the sexual tension with a switchblade,” Dean alluded.
“She’s Bobby’s daughter, Dean,” Sam grumbled.
“She’s hot, smart, can one up you in research and lore, and can kick both our asses,” Dean shook his head at his brother, “if she didn’t see me as a brother I would’ve made a move year’s ago…but you, Sam, what’s taking you so long?”
“What’s your excuse?”
“She’s. Bobby’s. Daughter.” Sam emphasized each word.
“Like I said,” Dean quipped, “what’s your excuse, man?”
You emerged from the shower and walked in on both Winchesters staring each other down.
“What’d I miss?”
Sam quickly looked over to you and back to Dean.
“Uh, nothing,” he said unconvincingly, “I’m going to grab a shower,” Sam hefted himself up from the bed and shot his brother another look before closing the bathroom door over.
“Dean?” You looked up to him with those dark brown eyes of yours, working your bottom lip.
“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Dean ruffled your towel dried hair, “Must be his time of the month, you know how Sam is.”
Chucking, you just nodded, but something had almost happened between you and Sam. Worrying your lip again, you pushed it aside, maybe you had just imagined it.
Remembering that night like it was just yesterday, you slammed your driver’s side door and made for your father’s house. Not bothering to knock, you swung open the rickety door and called out,
Bobby emerged from his crowded study and lifted you into a grizzly bear of a hug, “Damn good to see you, Y/N!”
Patting his back and pecking a kiss to his scruffy cheek, you hadn’t noticed Dean and Sam standing to the side, until
Dean let out a not so subtle cough,
“Where’s my little bit of sugar, Y/N?” He opened his arms to hug you and welcomed you back.
“Looking good, old man,” you teased and heard Sam guffaw at Dean’s look of feigned hurt.
“Sam,” your eyes locked on one another and a huge smile graced your features, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” your tone flirtatious. It didn’t go unnoticed by your father or Dean, and Sam’s cheeks turned crimson.
Y/N,” Sam took two steps toward you and enveloped you into his massive frame, “I’ve missed you,” he all but whispered, however, you heard him loud and clear.
You held onto him longer than a friendly hug should last for and heard your dad mumble under his breath,
You and Sam broke free and looked at Bobby with surprised faces.
“Sam, it’s about time you just man up and tell my daughter how you feel, because I swear if I have to hear her talk about you anymore, I’ll kill ya, just for a bit of peace and quiet!”
“Dad!” You gasped as he threw you under the proverbial bus.
Dean threw back his head and laughed, smacking his brother in the back, “told you the same thing last year, Sammy.”
“Wait, hold up,” you looked from your father to Dean, “you told him?”
“Y/N, I love ya, but Sam here, well maybe you two should just grow a set and I dunno, talk?”
“Eloquent as usual,” you mumble, pulling on Sam’s jacket and up the stairs.
Dean and your father looked up at your retreating backs, clinked their beer bottles, and sighed, like the proud men they were.
“‘Bout damn time,” Dean winked and Bobby seemed to stop in his tracks.
“Y/N!” He hollered after the two of you, “not in this house, you hear me?”
You couldn’t really care less what he just shouted, because you and Sam looked at one another and it was as if you were back in that motel room a year ago.
“Now,” you sat on the bed, “I believe we have some talkin’ to do.”
Sam stalked toward you on the bed, tossing his jacket to the floor, along with his flannel. He then pulled his tight gray fitted tee over his head and you instinctively reached for the scar on his shoulder, that you had stitched up.
“Y/N,” Sam chuckled, running a nervous hand through his hair, you’d never seen him so shy, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Sam, if it’s alright with you, I rather just show you,” you removed your shirt as well, “I think we’ve covered the talking part for years,” you pulled him into a deep kiss, “I’ve been in love with you since that salt and burn,” he kissed you back, you could feel his soul.
He broke from the kiss, a mischievous grin grew on his lips, as he searched your face, ran his calloused hands down your exposed skin,
“I love you too, Y/N.”
Downstairs, hours later, Bobby just poured himself another glass of bourbon, immersed himself into some lore, while Dean nursed another beer.
“You think they told each other yet,” Bobby looked over at Dean who had a shit eating grin on his face,
“Oh yeah, Bobby, they told one another a few times now.
Special: Spooky, and not so spooky, Oneshots for October.
The sun had set by the time you left work. Dark grey clouds blocked
any moonlight, so you were left with the dim, flickering lights of
rusted streetlights. Occasionally a sign from a shop would illuminate
your path, but soon after you’d be plunged back into darkness, with a
streetlight in the distance guiding your way.
The sound of your hurried footsteps echoed loudly against the
pavement, and you wished you could be as silent and quick as the stray
cats you had come across on your journey home. Besides the cats, no
other living being was out. Only those foolish enough would be out after
You had always returned home before sundown. That was a rule among
your colleagues, a rule and way of life for almost everyone. So as you
navigated the night, you cursed the fates for leading you to your
current situation, more so cursing your boss. He had decided give you
extra work that needed to be completed for the next day. You despised
the fact that he had waited the last minute to hand you the documents.
You knew for a fact that he had them for a while and chose the day
before the deadline to hand them to you.
Your ears perked up, hearing a second pair of footsteps trailing
behind you. You clutched your bag closer to you, and whirled around. No
one was there, only darkness. You let out a sigh of relief and continued
Your mind drifted a bit to your apartment’s warm confines and
protection from the outside, until it was sharply pulled back to reality
when a sudden gush of air caught you off guard. You looked around,
finding everything else to be still. Not a single leaf on the ground was
moving, so it couldn’t have been the wind.
Somewhat suspicious and mildly panicked, you did all you could to
walk as fast as you could. Occasionally you’d hear more footsteps behind
you, only to turn and find nothing.
Tony woke in his bunk. The boat wasn’t just rocking up and
down, side-to-side, it was spinning. He was cold and too exhausted to shiver,
and he hadn’t zipped the bag up before falling asleep. His left side was even
colder than his right, almost numb from his elbow to his shoulder. He struggled
to get his arm back into the bag, but he couldn’t reach up to catch the zipper.
“Mr. Stark,” a gravelly voice intruded.
Tony was startled by the voice, but only long after the
chance for an appropriate reaction had passed. He twisted to look up the
captain. Man looked bigger than ever, or Tony felt smaller than ever. His eyes
were very blue against the deeply lined leather of his skin, and he had
surprisingly long lashes.
“You need to see the physician,” the captain said firmly.
If there was anything Tony was truly startled about, it was
that he’d woken in his own bunk and hadn’t just been taken to medbay while
unconscious. He couldn’t remember anything after finding Steve in the ice.
Finally, finally finding Steve in the ice.
“Where’s St-… Captain America? Where is he?” Tony asked,
more than half dreading being told that it was all a dream, that he’d missed
the expedition and they hadn’t found anything anyways.
The captain pursed his chapped lips. The motion made his
whiskers bristle out like an annoyed cat. Tony tried to laugh, but the only
thing he managed was a vague vibration against his chest. He pulled his knees
up slowly, ignored the pain in his hips, and fought to kick out of the sleeping
“Where is he?” he repeated.
Shaking his head, the captain said, “He’s in lab 2. Mr.
Stark… Just go to the medbay.”
“No,” Tony said with no heat. He couldn’t muster up the
energy for heat, didn’t have a warm molecule in his body. He stumbled off the
bunk, and expected the captain to help him stand, but he didn’t. The giant man
stood and crossed his arms over his chest. Tony caught the bulkhead and looked
at him, but he only shook his grizzly head.
That was fine. It wasn’t like he hadn’t struggled down a
hallway by himself before.
(Had Steve carried him out of a building? He thought so,
remembered in kaleidoscope fragments being insensible on the floor, the scent
of smoke, Captain America’s arms supporting his knees and back. He remembered
being carried down a fire escape.
He remembered Steve stepping into his arms and the two of
them flying off together. Steve’s weight low on his spine as he flew with
Captain America on his back. The sound of Steve’s voice, whooping in childish
joy and urging him faster.
He remembered crawling on his knees through his room,
shedding pieces of the armor as he went, feet away from the nearest outlet. It
might as well have been miles, and there were people just down the hall. Steve,
Jan, Hank, Thor – No, Steve, Clint, Natasha, Thor. All he had to do was shout
and someone would come to help him across the last few feet to the outlet. He’d
crawled on his own, and reached the outlet just in time, just like a dozen
There was no arc reactor in his chest, but he felt heavy all
the same, like he needed a charging port. His joints ached. He pinballed down
the corridor, avoiding the shadowy forms of crewmen who had names (everyone
did) but he couldn’t remember them.
Decay is a marvelous natural phenomenon, it’s all around us every day: from food rotting in your bin to the crashing of waves against rocks. Decomposition: Things breaking down to their base elements. Imagine the effect it would have on a living human, or on the support beams of a building.
Regardless of your target, I propose the following method using imitative(sympathetic) magic.
The mage first creates a doll or model vaguely resembling the target from clay, wax or cloth. The mage then takes a pin and holds it in their hand. The mage begins the spell by entering a light trance state and clearing the mind of all thoughts. The mage then focuses on the intent of the spell, what and where are you targeting? what is the extent of the damage you wish upon the target in question? Once the mage is certain of his or her exact target, the mage channels their will into the pin, filling it with thoughts of decay, cells breaking down, rust forming, a filthy green and black marbled energy filling the pin. The mage then buries the needle into the target (into the exact location the mage wants affected).
Do not expect buildings to fall or people to die, but do note changes in the target. In biological targets will notice and display fatigue, pains or damage in the afflicted area while inorganic materials will feel flimsy, malleable and may show signs of rusting.