#death wish

[kat-theglitch]

I've been so fast to judge that I'm sick...

I've been so fast to judge that I'm hated.

(Song part starts at 1:38)

Little Kid With A Big Death Wish by @remedyturtles , go read their fic

[heavensghost]

death wish

[i-eat-worlds]

caretaker finding a whumpee deep in the bowels of whumper’s dungeons, severely injured after months of torture, covered in dirt, grime, and blood, malnourished and dehydrated and barely awake. Whumpee is exhausted and miserable. They beg caretaker to just let them die. They refuse any other help. They don’t want to leave. They just want to be done

And caretaker pauses. “Okay, whumpee. I’ll make you a deal. You let me treat you: get you some pain medicine, a blanket, maybe a bath, some food and water? And after that, if you still want to die, you can? Yeah?”

[dnihallofshame]

Submission to the DNI Hall of Shame.

[xxfr0gdadxx]

little animation i did for @remedyturtles’s fic, little kid with a big death wish. oh my god did this fic destroy me. i always forget to leave comments (aside from that one comment i left analyzing leo’s favorite mcr songs) but this is genuinely my favorite fic i’ve ever read. i’ve reread it five times now i think. in typical me fashion, i downloaded it and sent it to my google drive so i can read it on my laptop during school

[kingpagie]

The Hat really was the Time we made along the way. Seal the Deal Death Wish.

A Hat In Time community, do I impress you guys? Am I cool yet?

[malewifeboimler]

q shouldnt have wiped riker's memory after death wish. just pop him back on the bridge of the enterprise have him be like uhhhhhhhhhhh. well good news bad news janeway is alive but q is sexually harassing HER now

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 18

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

Flowers. Every kind. Every colour.

On the lower floor of Bucky's de facto headquarters, bunches of purple, blue, yellow, every hue on the spectrum are laid out. A woman with half-moon glasses on a chain comes forward with another set of stems; red roses.

You look them over. The pollen is making your head hurt. The thought of what the choice means, more so.

Bucky's hand rests on the back of your chair. The way he's always at your side, always crowding, wears on you. That and the rest of this charade. Just have it be done with.

The one thing you can say for your father is he didn't draw things out. A punch or a slap and you knew how he was feeling. Not Bucky. It's a game to him. One you're not equipped for.

"Pretty," you comment, a gracious but weak smile to the woman.

Bucky clucks and runs his other hand over his beard. He shifts.

"Too red. Not her." He remarks.

"Hm, yes, but what about your thoughts on roses? Another shade?"

You swirl around the question on your tongue. You don't care about the flowers but you hate to be rude. There was obviously quite a bit of effort put into this whole display. Not least of all by the man next to you.

"Hard to please," Bucky snorts. Your cheek tautens at the comment. "But I like a challenge." His finger tickles your shoulder. "Try another colour."

"Certainly," the woman, named Louise, with her frizzy white hair retreats.

You repress a sigh and stare dully at the far wall. She returns with some bigger roses, the petals more open, in a shade of gentle pink. You tilt your head.

"Pretty." You utter again.

Bucky clicks his tongue again.

"Any other thoughts?" He rubs his knuckles against your sleeve.

You shrug, "they're flowers. They're all pretty." You stiffen your spine. "You choose."

He huffs and leans forward. His hand trails down your back as he looks at you. "I'm asking you. It's for both of us."

"The pink is pretty."

His jaw squares and his brows flick. He sets up.

"White. Classy. Virginal." His fingertips zip up your spine. You shudder. Every word is a taunt. "Try those."

Louise trades the pink petals for white. They are pretty. Simple. You tilt your head.

"Pretty."

"Goddamn it," Bucky slaps his leg. "Give me something."

His frustration mirrors your own. You are tired of trying to read him. Of trying to read the script he wants you to play out. You're just tired.

You stand up. "I said the white are fine."

You march away, ignoring the soft tug on the back of your skirt as you elude his grasp. Friggin flowers. Who the hell cares? They'll be good for one day then thrown away.

You expect that to be reminiscent of the marriage ahead. You're not as stupid as he thinks. It's thrilling for him now. You've seen what marriage is.

Your mother told you your father used to be sweet. Their wedding photos showed a man you didn't recognise. Smiling next to your mother. It changes. It has to.

"Doll," Bucky snarls as he chases you across the room.

You side through the door, not quite sure what you're doing. You just need to be out of that room. You go out the front doors, past the men always prowling by them, and catch a sneeze between your hands. The pressure in your head slowly represents.

"Running? Now?" Bucky accuses as he follows you out.

You stop on the curb and he comes up next to you. "Set the date. I'll be there. Right now, I want to be with my sisters."

He snorts, "you telling me?"

You nod. "I wanna go home."

"Home?" He scoffs. "Doll," he turns to you and looms over you, his breath grazing your cheek. "I'm your home."

You wince.

"Please, I need to see my sisters," you stare off down the street.

"Look at me." He demands.

Your nostrils flare. You face him and bristle. "I'm looking."

Your tone surprises even you. His brow furrowed as his eyes twitch. He pokes his tongue into his cheek. He stands straight.

"Fine." He twists on his heel and marches away.

You watch him until the doors close. You wait. They stay shut.

You look down at the steep heels and the snug red dress. Well. You turn and start down the street. You've walked further for less.

Each step is more painful than the last. The heels are like nails hammering into your feet. After nearly an hour of walking, you stop, limping to a bench to sit.

You'll get there. You slip off the heels. As you stand, a long black care pulls up to the curb.

Bucky rolls down the window. "Get in."

You shake your head and turn down the street. You continue on your path, watching the ground intently to avoid and pebbles or glass. He rolls along with you, tapping the break.

"Now, doll, we both got heated but I can't let you walk."

You keep on silently.

"Don't ignore me."

You don't listen. The car cranks as he stops his with a slam of his foot. The engine dies and the door swings out.

He catches up to you and grab your arm. He spins you to face him. You push on his chest as you try to break his grip.

"Is this what you want this to be? Huh?"

"It will be what it is," you say.

"Doll, you don't know what it is. You think I'm mad?"

You stare at him. You wait for it. He brings his other hand up and you flinch. He probably hits harder than your father.

He frames your chin and growls. "Dammit, I'm not that." He squeezes. "Doll, I'm not angry." He pulls you closer as you tense against him. "You got me desperate for you."

His hand slides down your arm to your wrist. He takes your hands leads it to the front of his pants. You squirm, way of witnesses passing by. He squeezes so you can really feel him.

"You're coming back with me. Now." He snarls.