#I feel so unhinged idek where to start | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rodeorun · 8 months ago

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WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCK

This...... this!!!!! Oh my god the way this felt like watching a movie holy shit. I'm in love with this kind of writing style, idek what the describe it as because im literally still reeling from it. So much of this stuck with me, little words, phrases and moments. And i love the narrative like...we know sukuna aint a good guy but BLESSED his pov was so fucking yummy and unhinged

Also yo wtf ... baddie reader ???????? Shes literally so?????? Kuna dont fumble bc id be on her in a heartbeat ohmygodjsjdj. And i love that line between fear and arousal, that she acknowledges that despite it all, despite seeing through him, she is still insanely attracted to the fucking lunatic

And kuna's whole approach was literally like him stalking his prey. Fr the way you kept describing him too was so yummy like aughhhh HES TOO HOT HDJJSJS

How do you make him so charming and annoying and insufferable and just >>>>>>

The pace of this was everything, it feels like those videos where its like "watch me grow up from age 16 to 92 in 3 minutes" like we got a play by play of everything and it all tied in so well

Also reader and sukuna had chemistry here FR which is not an easy thing to do when starting as strangers in a single chapter fic. And none of that oblivious shit either like it really felt like flirting between two shrewd adults iykwim so that tension was fucking yummy

My fave part is that this is like TRUE dark romance. No frills, no forgiveness, no justifying. Just a monster and the beautiful women he want to devour

It got so grim and i was literally at the edge of my seat wondering how it would all play out and honestly? This is so sukuna like, as much as i love the down bad simp delulu takes on sukuna ....THIS is him. Right to the end, he's only after possession, not love. This man playing w his food before he eats it smh

ALSO ARE U INSANE HIM RUBBING HER BACK WHILE SHOWING THE BODY IN HIS TRUNK IM-

He's an ass and crude but the way you made it intimate is beyond me like my god, sukuna and intimate are two words that dont go together but someone explain to me that part with him pressing her against the car door in his lap 😭 AND THE WAY HE WAS TALKING TO HER HDJSJKSK DO FUCKING INTIMATE AND SENSUAL LIKE?????

He did not man handle her but man was handling her very well 😳

His diversion tactics and how brazen he was at the end ughhhhh hes such a bad man fr but so fucking hotttthdjsjjsjs

How the hell did you draw a single kiss out for paragraphs and then MF PULLED OUT A GUN LIKE, reader and me twinning whiplash that shit had me waking up

(Also that kiss scene........yo....)

gun in the backseat the whole time hes so annoyinggggghsjsj OMG and i just realized he drove reader there while the coworker was in the trunk dude thats terrifying 😭

“Let me take care of this kid first, princess, and then you’re all mine.” > famous last words bc i died and gone to horny jail

"possession"

ryomen sukuna x reader [modern au]

Synopsis: you meet a strange, attractive man whose god complex that you have yet to discover proves to interfere with both your self-respect and the law.

to sum it up: sukuna is a man who sees himself above all people and is obsessed with you. when he gets jealous, he copes in sadistic ways

WC: 8,540

Warning(s): violence, mentions & use of a weapon, death/homicide, yandere themes, possessiveness, vulgar language

Your body trembled viciously as his figure stood over you, tall, prideful, and oh so frightening.

Your vision was blurry. You could hardly see what was standing directly before you due to the stress of the previous events and the tears that blurred your vision. Your hands gripped each shoulder as though your own body heat was the only thing that could save you now.

Unfortunately for you, however, nothing could save you from the looming presence of Ryomen Sukuna, black painted nails releasing the trigger of the gun he’d just pulled on your now deceased coworker.

It wasn’t that you liked the recent victim of Sukuna’s wrath any more than the next stranger. In fact, you had deemed him to be rather annoying. He had always found ways to pop himself into your day to day, whether it was by lingering next to your cubicle at the office for ten minutes too long before lunch, running into him on a whim at the grocery store and finding yourself subjected to his poor attempts at getting you to spend one on one time with him outside of the office, or waking up to a new follower on your Instagram- his name and profile greeting you desperately when you glanced at the screen.

You knew exactly what he was after, but you had paid him no mind. You were hardly a stranger to advances from acquaintances or passerbyers. After all, as well as your looks, you carried yourself in such a way that exuded class and mystery, poise and effortless beauty. You didn’t speak much to those who were not close to you, which was perhaps why you had gained so much attention. Your silent charm needed little to no verbal introduction from yourself. You caught enough glances simply by minding your own, keeping to yourself, and accomplishing your goals all rather contently. You did not desire the attention of other men, which, luck would come to have, was why you had always subconsciously gained it.

And gaining Sukuna’s had been a fluke all on its own.

The man kept to himself just as much as you did, but in a far less innocent way. He lurked about, observing, judging, despising, taking it upon himself to dispose of any being he deemed a pestilence to his existence. The god complex Sukuna embraced alone was enough to send you running, but for some reason when he first approached you, you did the exact opposite.

He was forward. Brazen. He had observed you days before actually meeting you, walking mutely into your office building from a nearby alleyway. He watched your thighs shift with each movement you took beneath the tight pencil skirt you adorned, heels clacking against the pavement deliciously. Though you had a reserved energy about you, you kept your chin held high and your eyes forward. You weren’t hiding, per say, but you were entirely too occupied with your own business to bother keeping up with the business of those around you. You weren’t shy, you were focused. Attentive. Not easily distracted.

Sukuna could not have understood why your presence intrigued him so much, to the point where he was waiting around your place of work until you clocked out, following you home, and memorizing the path you took to and fro so that he could organize a way to force himself into your life. Sukuna had witnessed and learned so much of humanity, how people concerned themselves so heavily with matters of each other to the point where they allowed their incomprehensible need to stick themselves into all matters led them to war, death, and the collapse of civilizations simply for them to be rebuilt by the next generations and for the same patterns too continue.

Human beings were so incessantly concerned with how others viewed them, with how the next person would react to the way they put one foot in front of the other, with whether their family members approved of their lifestyles or if their friends thought their hobbies were intriguing.

It was truly pathetic how human beings lived for each other, how many women so pitifully clung to his arm for a chance to even be considered someone he would spare a second glance at. Sukuna enjoyed the submission when it served him well, but Christ, were they all so whiny and needy, so desperate for someone else to see and love them when Sukuna made it perfectly clear in each circumstance that he could care less about what a weak girl could do for him beyond sexual subservience.

But you, you did not even look at him when you brushed past him and into the cafe that you visited regularly. You hardly even spared him a glance when he approached you at the counter as you were waiting for your coffee. It had angered him at first. Truly enraged him to see you refuse him so politely without even having to say a word or spare a glance. You could not have cared less what he wanted to say or had to offer, and it pissed him off but simultaneously sparked a desire to control you. One that he had not experienced for quite some time. You would make him work for it, and that in itself sparked his interest.

He wanted to own you, to possess you. He wanted you to belong to him, for you to come at his beck and call, for you to abandon your selfishness and crawl to him on your knees, crying, pleading for his touch and affection. He wanted you to be a mess at his feet, to be his plaything, his pet. He wanted to conquer you and bring those pretty (e/c) eyes of yours to tears as they finally snapped up to look at him.

“You,” his voice had greeted you gruffly.

You jerked slightly, turning to your left to find a tall figure leaning against the counter beside you. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him before. Your mind had been running over a project you had been assigned last minute in your head, and you were so occupied with your thoughts that you had completely missed the intimidating presence wafting off of the figure beside you.

He was a sight to look at, you had to internally admit to yourself. Spiky salmon hair splayed across his forehead and crimson eyes the shade of fresh blood boring into yours. His build beneath a black sweatshirt and sweatpants was bulky, muscles stretching the sleeves of the almost loose fabric. His eyes were bored, yet his brows were angled as though he were agitated. What for, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t help but shift beneath his unwavering gaze, for he stared at you as if you were the only person standing in the cafe.

You glanced behind you, looking around to find the person this odd man may have been addressing instead, but when you found no one you turned back around. “Me?”

His lips quirked up at the corners, a smile threatening to touch his mouth. “Who else does it look like I’m talking to?”

His voice was so deep, it practically rumbled the floor beneath your feet. He spoke lowly to ensure that you knew he was speaking directly to you, but his words were crisp and perfectly clear.

You were unsure of how to respond. Guys had approached you many times, but never in such a straightforward, expecting fashion. Never with such power, such overarching confidence that made you think just for a moment that you would stay a while to share a word or two with him.

“Can I… help you?” you asked cautiously, uncertainty swirling through your mind.

“What a silly question,” he sighed, tilting his head as his bicep pressed into the marble of the countertop, one knee bent while the other stretched out so that he was lounging rather casually in the way of the ‘pick up’ window.

His eyes glinted with mischief, shamelessly roaming over your body. You had the sense to take a small step back, which only fueled Sukuna’s lust for dominance over you. You watched as a wide smirk settled on his face, eyes drifting lazily back up to yours.

“Are you scared of me?”

The question caught you off guard. You could feel your lips curling in discomfort against your mind’s will, yet your heart panged with what you could not differentiate between what was either excitement or unease. His eyes carried such vibrancy as they danced across you, almost as though they weren’t human. Though unnerving at first glance, the man surely was attractive in a rather unusual, alarming way.

The way his lips, however, stretched over sharp pearly teeth with a smile that could only mean that he was up to no good struck your hesitant curiosity.

“I don’t know, should I be?” you questioned in return, raising a brow.

How unassuming and bold you were.

He replied with only a smug grin, tilting his head back as he gazed at you over his nose. “What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you? I don’t know who you are.”

“That’s precisely why I’m asking. So we can get to know each other,” he hummed.

God, every red flag was waving aggressively in the back of your mind, screaming at you to take off into another direction, to turn away, grab your coffee, and walk out like nothing happened, but there was something deep within you that kept you planted there. Was it intrigue? Attraction? Perhaps a spell that had been cast on you to make you forfeit any pinch of sense you had left?

You weren’t sure, but whatever it was made you want to stay. You wanted to see where this would go, what line this oddball would throw at you to try to get you to come home with him.

You were nothing but completely and utterly curious.

But you know what they say about curiosity.

It kills.

You weren’t going to tell him your name, at least. You were smart enough to attempt to keep that barrier, but the universe had other plans. Before you could say anything more, the barista reached forward and slammed a styrofoam cup before you.

“Order for (Y/n)!” she announced loudly, looking directly at you with kind eyes. “Here you go, see you tomorrow!”

You smiled tightly, swiping the drink up in your hand. “Thanks, have a good one,” you said through a strained breath and clenched jaw.

The pink haired stranger pushed himself off of the counter slowly. He hummed intriguingly, half lidded eyes eating you alive. “(Y/n),” he repeated, your name rolling off his tongue like a prayer.

You shivered.

He held out a hand before you, the other shoved into his pocket. You examined it, the veins running across the back of his palm, the dark paint on his fingertips, the peak of tattoos sliding sheepishly out of his sweatshirt sleeve.

“Ryomen Sukuna.”

You didn't know what demon on earth possessed you to grasp his hand and shake it.

From that point on, Sukuna kept his interactions with you secluded to the cafe. He would wait for you to walk in, share a few words with you, hit on you shamelessly, then watch you walk to work from his spot at the counter.

You convinced yourself that there was no harm in the matter if he was only speaking to you in a public space. Though it was strange that he only came to the cafe to see you and that he never ordered anything, you figured it was better than him trying to turn up to your place of work or follow you after you had grabbed your morning coffee.

Sukuna observed you meticulously each time he saw you. You stepped out of the house very professionally, with your hair pinned up and your clothes modestly hugging your figure. You wore a bra and underwear beneath your clothing to maintain an appropriate appearance at work, which aggravated him to no end.

You wore little makeup over your face. Just a bit to cover a scar here or there and eyeliner to accentuate the shape of your eyes and gloss to coat your plump lips.

You had also grown more expecting of his company. While you remained reserved to some extent, you engaged in subtle banter with him each time he pushed his advances.

“Still holding out on me, princess?” he would ask with a sinister smirk.

“Don’t call me that.” you would reply, turning your head to hide the amused smile that touched your lips.

Thoughts of your lip gloss smearing over his mouth snapped into his mind at the very sight of your smile. He was going to ruin you.

Sukuna normally was not one for waiting, but he decided he would make an exception just this once. He wanted to make you feel safe, to ease into the attraction he knew that you felt toward him. He knew that if he tried to force you into him so early on, you’d turn away. And normally that wouldn’t have been a problem for him, but this was a game of minds. He needed you to want it before he moved, he needed you to prove that your facade of disinterest would fade and only fade for the sake of his domination over you, and he needed you to want it so badly that you’d cry for it.

So, he took his time.

Three weeks in, he asked to walk you to work.

Who were you to say no now that the two of you had grown so acquainted? What was the harm in a walk, after all?

On that walk alone, however, Sukuna observed something else about you. He observed how men’s eyes would linger each time you walked past and how you kept your gaze forward, completely numb to or unbothered by or disinterested in the stares. He noticed how quickly men would jump to hold the door for you when he would stop just at the entrance of your office building, glaring down at the poor soul who had managed to reach the door before he got a chance to. He noticed how consumed others were by your presence, how easily you made people stop and stare without trying or without caring. Sukuna knew thousands of women who fought ten times as hard to get half of the attention that was bestowed upon you throughout your daily life, and yet you did not care.

He could not understand what it was about you as he lifted his foot from the puddle of blood and brains he had stomped in hours after he had tracked down the poor sap who’s eyes flashed over your concealed tits on your morning walk together. He could not understand how you, a human, carried such an enticing presence, how the number of hands he severed and tongues he ripped out doubled over instead of reducing. How, no matter how many of those filthy pests he slaughtered for even glancing your way, there would still be more, and more, and more.

He was growing restless.

Over a month had passed, and Sukuna had yet to throw himself onto you. He himself was not even sure why by this point. He knew everything about you. What time you woke up in the morning, what your morning routine entailed, how you liked your coffee made from the cafe, the things you enjoyed talking about and looking at on route to work, the projects you worked on, what your favorite meal at lunch was, what time you clocked out, the days you put in overtime, what time you went to sleep- he had completely engraved himself into your life when it should have been the other way around, but for the first time in his life, he just did not know how to proceed. You were different, you were strange, you were just as much of a brat as any other woman, but you peaked his interest so much that it was enough for him to pause and ask why.

And Lord, you were gorgeous, one of the prettiest women he’d ever seen. Your (s/c) skin, your (h/c) hair, your supple figure, your laugh, your smile. You belonged with him, you were meant to be his, but fucking hell, he was beginning to grow impatient.

He knew that to some extent he was succeeding at getting you to be his, too. You were talkative, sarcastic, playful with him. Your eyes constantly met him when you talked and you had begun looking for him everywhere, in everything you did, in everything you felt. He had become a constant in your routine so quickly that the thought of him not nearby had begun to feel strange.

The tension that carried between the two of you was hardly a secret either. His eyes were heavy with desire, deep and mesmerizing, voice smooth like the slither of a serpent’s each time he bent over to whisper a joke into your ear or lowly call your name in address. His frame could put that of a god’s to shame though he often kept his muscles concealed due to the dreary weather, and his hands, oh his hands. The way they pressed to the small of your back to move you out of the way of something in your path, or reached to grab your coffee before you could and lift it to your lips, or how his veins bulged each time he grasped the handle of a door for you.

You wanted him bad. You couldn’t deny it anymore, but you still hardly knew him. He hadn’t revealed anything about his personal life to you other than his name. He didn’t work by the looks of it, and you had no idea where he was from or where he lived. He was a basket case, but that surely was not enough to ease the ache between your thighs that came each time he spoke to you, voice dripping with playful lust.

Sukuna could see you gradually melting before him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more, he wanted more, he had to have more from you, but what could he get without pouncing on you and springing at the wrong time?

“Have dinner with me.”

You paused before the door to your office building, turning to face Sukuna with parted lips. You needed to clock in within the next five minutes, but the crimson eyed man’s request had thrown you off kilter.

“Huh?” you breathed.

His face was hard, rather emotionless. His hand gripped the door above your head, his arm hovering over you as he looked down into your eyes. He looked deadly serious, not a trace of amusement anywhere to be found on his face.

“You heard me, woman,” he said gruffly. He leaned down, closing in on you, nose inches away from yours. “Have dinner with me.”

You had never been flustered by a man before. You were raised to be unaffected by their advances, to find little enchantment in the bare minimum that man graciously brought forward as though it was the world on wings. You had always been indifferent to men’s responses to your beauty, to their inviting hand, to their promises and boasts and pretty lies. You had wanted none of it, for you found your occupation and making a living for yourself to be far more important than matters of another man’s heart.

But the way Sukuna was looking at you, the way he caged you in as his gaze drank in the sight of you, the forwardness of his tone signifying that he would not take no for an answer, the mahogany scent emanating from his clothing and skin. He was intoxicating, and you both knew it, but for some reason you could not fight the burn in your cheeks and the rush of your blood.

“Are you asking me out, Sukuna?” you whispered.

His name sounded fucking incredible on your lips, where it belonged. He wanted to hear more. He needed to hear more. For fuck’s sake, he was tired of waiting. Tired of this little game he had forced himself to play. He needed you.

“You’re not an idiot, you know damn well what I’m doing.”

He was always so mean, the way he talked. Mean and vulgar and you shouldn’t have been aroused by it, but you were desperate for him. You liked him and you wanted him. Why? You weren’t sure.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?” Sukuna groaned. “Dinner. Tonight.”

“Ask me nicely and I’ll think about it.”

The tan skinned man’s teeth ground together, eyes slimming in agitation. You were so mouthy. He could have left you high and dry, completely abandoned this whole ordeal for giving him so much attitude, but he shamefully enjoyed it. He enjoyed how you tested your limits with him and how you didn’t even care about doing so. He enjoyed how you thought you had control, though you only held it because he was giving it to you for the time being.

He wanted to shut you up so badly, to throw you around, to wipe away that confidence instilled in you.

So he asked you to dinner.

“Don’t order me around, you brat.”

“Well then I guess I’ll have to turn down the offer,” you shrugged. You were quick to turn over your shoulder, leaving Sukuna reeling in shock. “Thanks for the walk. I’ll see you for lunch, yeah?”

Sukuna used his free hand to snatch your wrist in his and yank you back into him. You stumbled, a squeak squeezing past your throat as your body clumsily clashed into his. Your eyes went wide, your cute lips finally clamped shut. You stared up at him innocently, like a deer in headlights.

How cute you would have looked with that face if you were down on your knees before him.

He breathed in slowly, eyes raking over your face as he squeezed your wrist gently, holding you close to him. You could feel his breath fanning against your cheek. You looked down, face blazing and heart thudding so loud you were sure Sukuna could feel it against his chest.

He smiled.

“Cut that out and look at me when I talk to you,” he demanded, releasing your wrist to tilt your chin up with his index finger. Your glossy (e/c) eyes met his once more, the space between the two of you so small it should have been a sin.

“Sukuna, I-I need to get to work-”

“Not until you say yes,” he interjected, gripping your chin softly. “No games. Come have dinner with me. I’ll pick you up at nine.” He raised his brows, tilting his head up. “Hm?”

You could barely find the words to give him an answer. “I didn’t peg you for a dinner kind of guy,” you murmured, mind growing fuzzy with the feeling of his fingers on your chin holding you in place so that you couldn’t look away.

“That wasn’t an answer, (Y/n),” he mumbled firmly. “Dinner. Yes or no.”

You were hardly sure that he was going to let you say no, but you responded as though you had a choice in the matter anyway, for you couldn’t deny the eagerness that sparked in your gut when he proposed the notion.

He continued staring, waiting, watching. Eventually, you nodded as though in a trance, eyes never breaking away from him. “Okay.”

Sukuna grinned, finally releasing you from his hold. “Wonderful. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

You stumbled back, slightly discombobulated, unsure of whether what just transpired was a trick of your mind or indeed reality.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself again, turning mechanically to enter the building as Sukuna proceeded to hold the door.

He could feel an urge for misconduct overtaking him as his smirk widened, watching in anticipation as you walked away. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

He was about to release the door when he felt a man brush past him and into the doorway, having taken advantage of a gesture that had been meant for only the girl ahead. “Hey, thanks man!” the brunette called over his shoulder halfheartedly.

Normally, Sukuna would have been irritated, but would have blown it off simply because he didn’t feel like bothering with such an insignificant interaction. He would have likely kicked his foot out so the guy could trip and then he’d go on about his day, leaving behind whatever idiot who sought to leech off of him out of pure convenience, especially since it seemed that this man was running late.

Sukuna would have walked away, thinking about all the ways he would consummate his possession over you within the next few hours leading up to your date without a single care in the world if what happened next had not caught his eye.

He watched the brunette, hair messy atop his head and a briefcase clutched under his arm, rush up behind you and gently touch your waist with his hand in greeting. You turned to identify the owner of this hand and visibly grew bored when your eyes landed on the kid’s face, but he proceeded to attempt to entertain you.

“You look nice today,” he had said. “Did you do something different with your hair?” he had said. “I followed you on Instagram last night, you should follow me back.”

You had not even responded with anything more than a disinterested hum as the two of you rounded the corner to the elevators, out of Sukuna’s sight. You didn’t care, but oh, did Sukuna find far more fault in that interaction than you did.

His smile completely wiped from his face and the door slammed in front of him after releasing it. The muscles in his eye twitched, his pupils shrank, and nose flared. He stood ominously still, frozen in his own rage, and something snapped inside him.

How dare that guy touch what was his?

This led you to where you sat crouched in the alleyway. Your date was meant to begin thirty minutes ago.

You had dressed up pretty in a small black dress and heels, hair down, legs bare, and chest exposed. You were a pure sight for sore eyes, drop dead gorgeous, and Sukuna was sure to tell you when he arrived at your home after you had texted him your address. Of course, you hadn’t known that Sukuna already knew full well where you lived.

You noticed something off about him the moment you opened the door. He wore a navy button up that was free of its first three buttons, leaving his chest tattoos exposed. His shirt was also untucked over wrinkled pants, and while you hardly expected him to dress like royalty, there was something rather… sloppy about the way he appeared before you that night.

And his eyes, those bright red eyes were alight with passion. A crazed look touched his irises as they gleamed in the street light. His hair was slightly ruffled too, and a wide, eerie smile revealed each and every one of his sharp, pearly whites. He did not look well, not mentally, and at that moment, you could feel your heart begin to sink to your toes upon the realization that something very wrong was about to happen.

He pulled you out of your doorway without even giving you a chance to lock the door and led you to a coupe parked sloppily next to your apartment complex. He held the door for you, and against your better judgment, you stepped in, wanting to blame your sudden discomfort on nerves or paranoia.

Sukuna rounded the car with thudding footsteps, throwing himself into the driver’s seat and pulling off with alarming speed. You kept your hands folded in your lap, eyes staring blankly ahead as your heart thudded against your ribcage. Sukuna was acting so strange, almost manic. Perhaps he struggled with mania and was having an episode? Or maybe he was just as anxious as she was, and was acting strangely due to nerves over his first date after a long time alone?

You wanted to make excuses for him so badly, to believe that this was some kind of misunderstanding, but deep in your gut, you knew that you were in danger. You knew that something was off and that this night was heading into a dark direction.

Sukuna said nothing as he drove, the sound of tires screeching against the pavement the only sound filling the rather empty silence. You tried to regulate your breathing, looking out the window frantically to attempt to memorize the twists and turns you took about the city. It wasn’t long before the car was slowing down, rounding an empty street and turning into a secluded alleyway.

You began to panic. It was dark and completely vacant aside from Sukuna’s car, which was now parked in the middle of nowhere. You sat up, whipping your head around to attempt to grasp an understanding of where you were and how you got here. Your eyes were blown wide and your panting had now grown audible.

Sukuna released the stick shift and leaned back, taking notice of your antsy behavior. He cooed, turning the car off and leaning over to you, resting his elbow on the back of his seat rest and grazing the back of your hair with his free hand.

You jumped, pressing your back into the corner against the window and curling your knees to your chest. You looked horrified, like a poor antelope facing the hunger of a lioness. Sukuna had previously thought that he wouldn’t have gotten off on this fear from you, but hell, had he been wrong. The freight in those glossy eyes, the wobble of your lips, the way your breasts threatened to pool out of the fabric of your dress with each heavy breath you took. He loved it.

“Come now, don’t fuss,” he urged gently, hand reaching to brush the side of your cheek. You tried to tilt your head up and away, but there was nowhere for you to run. “You don’t think I’m gonna hurt you now, do you?”

Your mind played a trick on you. Perhaps he wasn’t going to hurt you. Were you overreacting? Allowing your anxiety to motivate your reaction instead of logic?

You gulped a breath of air, eyes darting around frantically as Sukuna’s thumb brushed your cheekbone. “Wh-” you breathed. “Why are we here? What’s going on? Sukuna, where did you take me?”

That breathtaking, troublesome smile appeared on Sukuna’s face again as he admired her. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he spoke giddily, like a man on the verge of a mental break. “Don’t be so quick to go crazy on me. Relax.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, confused, afraid. You didn’t like this one bit. You didn’t like the look in Sukuna’s eye that accompanied the chaotic driving and the bizarre atmosphere.

You swallowed down a pool of saliva, body shaking involuntarily.

Ruby eyes melted over your body, watching the way your flesh trembled with your limbs.

“You dressed all pretty for me, huh? Tryin’ to get lucky on our first date, princess?”

“Sukuna,” you whimpered, pressing yourself further into the glass. “Why did you take me here?”

He stared at you for a few seconds longer before a hefty sigh filled his chest. He leaned back into his seat, pushing the car door open swiftly. “I’ll show you in a second. Be patient.”

The car door slammed behind him after he stumbled out. Your body jerked and you began to panic once more. You tried to shrink in on yourself, to make everything go away. You tried to gaslight yourself one more time into thinking that this ‘surprise’ would be pleasant, that this was some kind of twisted joke that Sukuna wanted to play and you’d be back at a nice restaurant in minutes.

You wanted to tell yourself that you wouldn’t have agreed to this date if you had believed Sukuna to be dangerous, but you couldn’t even convince yourself of that for more than a second.

Your gut instinct had been warning you to stay away from the man the second you met him. He was always isolated, yet he was charming. Alarmingly so. He placed himself into your life, stalking around for you at a coffee shop and waiting until you were comfortable for him to start asking to walk you to work. You had given him your number, your work address, your home address, access to your personal life, access to your vulnerability, and all the while your gut was begging you to turn away, to let this idea of this attractive man go before you got hurt.

But you stupidly chalked it all up to unwarranted paranoia, to fear of growing close to someone after having been closed off for all those years. You thought that something within you was trying to hold you back from finding happiness, that though Sukuna was hardly the person you would go for, you could have given him a chance, even if it was casually.

And that mouth of his should have been the telltale sign. The way he ordered things rather than asked for them, the way he looked at you with such expectation in his eyes, as if he knew you would fall for him in only a matter of time, as if he had planned it all out so carefully. It was all so disquieting.

You thought that a month had been enough time to know someone, but boy, were you wrong.

You shivered as the car rocked with the thrust of the trunk being opened. You could hear and feel a struggle as Sukuna lugged something heavy out from the back, the vehicle wobbling with the commotion. Suddenly, the car jumped forward as a thud hit the ground.

Your brows arched, but you didn’t dare to turn to see what was happening behind you. You didn’t want your eyes to confirm the first, dreadful thought that popped into your hand.

Heavy footsteps rounded the car again and Sukuna was outside your window, pounding on the glass. You ripped yourself away, turning to face him with petrified eyes. He yanked the door open, reaching in and grabbing your forearm to pull you out.

You cried out, horrified of what was to possibly come. Was he going to kill you?

“Shut the fuck up, Jesus,” he hissed, yanking you from your seat and pulling you onto your shaking feet. He closed the door behind you, pressing your body to him as you hyperventilated, hands tucked into you under your chin. “Shhh, quiet,” he pressed his lips to your ear, his voice lulling to a tender tone. “I won’t hurt you, but if you scream, I will have to punish you. Okay pretty girl?”

A weep broke past your lips as you scrunched your eyes closed, the reality of your situation crashing down like a tidal wave.

His hand gripped the back of your neck tightly, your body tensing beneath him. “Okay?” You nodded hysterically, sniffling as tears brimmed your eyes. “Good girl. Come on, now.”

Sukuna’s hands pressed firmly to your waist, guiding you forward to behind the car.

You didn’t open your eyes. You kept your face tucked to Sukuna’s chest, absolutely horrified to see what he was prepared to present to you.

You felt Sukuna stop you from moving. You trembled as he leaned in close beside you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Open your eyes,” he demanded, firmly.

A tear dribbled down your chin as you shook your head. “S-Sukuna, I can’t. Please-”

“Open. Your fucking. Eyes.”

With no other option, with no access to control, with your life at stake, you opened your eyes.

Your vision took time to adjust at first. The darkness of the alley hardly allowed you the privilege to see much ahead of you, but as you casted your gaze down, Sukuna’s ‘gift’ registered within your sight.

You smacked a hand over your mouth, stifling a scream. Sukuna’s hands caressed your back softly as you took in the sight, breaths stuttering into feeble gasps.

There before you lay your coworker, the very coworker who had been persistently flirting with you since the moment you arrived at the office. He lay unconscious, mouth duct taped shut and ankles and wrists bound tightly by rope.

But his face… you could hardly recognize it. It was bloodied and bruised beyond comprehension, features mangled into each other as though his head had been bashed in repeatedly. Blood matted into his chestnut hair and stained the white collar he walked into work wearing that very morning.

He looked half dead.

“There, see?” Sukuna exhaled contentedly, moving to step around you. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he chuckled, gesturing his arms out as if presenting a show. You stood in shock, eyes wide and mouth agape behind your palms. Tears spilled down your chin, dripping onto the ground and over your fingers.

Sukuna lowered his arms, a perplexed expression meeting his face. “What?” he drawled out. “Don’t tell me you cared about the guy. You didn’t look too interested in hearing what he had to say this morning.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You were paralyzed with devastation, with heart stopping, blood curdling fear.

Sukuna shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning over to examine the body at his feet nonchalantly.

“I mean, I can hardly see why you’d care about him now, of all times, either. He doesn’t even look like a person anymore.”

He raised his leg and landed a harsh kick to your coworker’s head, his skull snapping to the side then falling limply against the pavement. You choked out, tilting your head down to avoid the scene.

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Please, he’s just another insect at the end of a long line of pests I’ve killed for you.”

You stopped, lifting your bloodshot eyes to find Sukuna’s figure in the darkness. “W-What?”

“W-What?” the tan skinned man mocked, chuckling darkly afterward. “I told you before, you’re not an idiot. Stop acting like it.”

“What do you-” you lowered your trembled hands and revealed your tear drenched face. “You’ve… you’ve killed people before?”

“Again. You ask too many questions that you already know the answer to.”

Your skin went cold. You stumbled backward, tripping over your own heels and pushing yourself back against the brick wall. Your eyes were huge, terror-stricken, and your mascara was running, leaving dark streaks down your darling cheeks.

What a pretty sight, Sukuna thought.

“What the fuck,” you hissed, head rolling on your shoulders as you registered this confession.

Images of Sukuna reappeared in your head, the way he smiled at you upon greeting you at the cafe, how his eyes flooded with such passion when he looked at you, how he followed you around as if he never wanted to lose sight of you.

And you had liked it. You had looked forward to it. You had fallen for it all. You had grown blind to the signs that were blaring all around you because you actually liked him.

And here he was, standing before you with your half dead coworker at his feet, telling you that he had killed before- and for you, at the matter.

“What the fuck! What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” you cried, griping your hands in your hair. How could you have been so stupid?

“Here come the hysterics,” Sukuna grumbled.

“You- You’re a murderer! You’re a fucking murderer, and I let you- fuck!”

“‘Murderer’ is such a restrictive term,” Sukuna sighed. “That’s not what I am.”

“What the hell are you talking about! You’ve killed people! Look what you’ve done to a person I work with!”

“Princess, you have no idea what I am or what I can be,” he said deeply. He took a step forward, making slow strides over to you. You were quick to shuffle away, keeping your eyes glued to him as you tried to slither out of the space between the car and the wall. “I’m so much more than what you think,” he grinned. He sounded insane.

“Get the fuck away from me,” you barked. You were a mess, tripping over yourself, choking over your own words. Sukuna watched you, amused, taking his time as he approached you. “Get away!”

Your heel got caught against the rubber tire of Sukuna’s car, leading you to fall backward onto your back, your leg twisting beneath you. You winced, sweat beading your forehead as you looked up and found that Sukuna was already hovering over you.

He was slow to crouch down to meet your height. You leaned back on your elbows, watching as he leaned over you predatorily.

“Please,” you whined, anger melting into desperation. His red tinged palms reached out to your knees and slid up thighs, massaging the plush skin with lazy eyes and a lazy smile. “Please, Sukuna…”

“Keep begging, princess,” he slurred, craning his neck to press a soft kiss to your temple as he trapped you beneath his mass. You had never realized just how big he was until this very moment, his biceps caging over you and chest lingering inches away from your own. “It turns me on,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, twisting your head away. This was wrong. This was bad, he was going to harm you, but you still could not deny the way his warmth swallowed you whole and how the softness of his lips against your head almost manipulated you into forgetting what was happening.

“C’mere, (Y/n),” he urged. “Don’t run from me.”

He pulled away to look down at you with those intoxicating eyes.

“S-Sukuna, you’re a monster,” you stammered through hushed, heavy breaths. He seemed unfazed by the accusation, for he had been called many things before.

“Come. Now.”

You did not have another choice.

You cautiously pushed yourself up from the ground, allowing Sukuna to wrap his arms around you and pull you up into him. He sat up, bringing you along with him to sit atop his thigh. He lifted your legs over his and rested his hands on your upper thigh and lower bum.

You sat stiffly, head pressed against the car door from the angle you sat. “Look at me.”

You obeyed.

He lifted his hand to wipe the tears from your cheek, smearing your mascara across your face. “You’re pretty when you cry.”

“S-Sukuna-”

“Quiet,” he snapped. “I’ve spent this past month doting on you. Trying to figure out why you caught my eye. When I first saw you in that tight skirt and those damn heels, I knew I wanted to fuck you.”

You stiffened, pressing your lips together tightly as he proceeded to wipe away at your tears.

“I know you wanna fuck me too, yeah?” he hummed. “But you’re not an easy girl. I see the way you act around men and how they act around you. You couldn’t give less of a fuck how they practically grovel at your feet. It’s kinda funny, you know? Seeing how pathetically you’ve got these people acting, but I’ll be damned if you don’t pay attention to me.”

His hand moved to cradle your jaw.

“I knew you were mine the second I spoke to you. But all these fucking insects keep trying to get in the way. Keep thinking they got a chance with you, so I have to put them in their place. Six feet under the ground.”

Your brows curled and your lips turned down, lump forming in your throat.

“But even so, none of those guys had the balls to touch you. They’d just look at you. Dream about you- dream about touching you. And that was enough for me to have to get rid of them, but then I saw the damndest thing this morning after I had just asked you out on a date.”

He jerked his head backward, gesturing to the body laying on the ground.

“This fucking moron walks past me and puts his hand on your waist, and starts telling you how pretty you are and all this shit. He was complimenting my woman. Touching my woman. Trying to fuck my woman. You know I had to do something about that, right? I couldn’t just let that slide, and I couldn't afford you making me look like a pussy.”

You furrowed your brows. “I wasn’t-”

“You’re mine,” he growled. He gathered your cheeks in his hand, yanking you close to him. You winced, scared eyes forced to stay on his for the umpteenth time. “You belong to me. Nobody else gets to touch you, nobody else gets to talk to you, and nobody else gets to breathe your air. You’ve given me the greatest headache of my fucking life and I won’t let a puny man try to challenge my name or try to take what rightfully belongs to me,” he spat, giving your head a jerk. “I’ve killed more people than that pretty little head of yours can count, and I’ll keep doing it as long as people like him so much as spare a glance into your direction. I’m done playing games with you, girl. You’re stuck with me.”

There was no air left for you to breathe, no room for you to even respond to what Sukuna was saying to you. The man hadn’t even properly tried to date you, and he had already taken ownership over your entire being, to the point where he had taken lives.

He smiled condescendingly at you, taking in your sloppy features. “But you wanted that, didn’t you? You wanted to be mine?” He pulled you in, lips practically brushing your squished ones. “Say it. Tell me how much you want me.”

You hated how despite his heinous crimes, despite his brutality, despite his unbridled possession over you, you still reacted helplessly to his force, to his touch, to his voice, to his presence. Those eyes of his could have pulled you into a trance, devilish smirk churning something deep within your gut.

He killed people. He was about to kill your coworker. He saw himself as a god, as above people. He was insane. He saw you as an object, something to physically possess. He didn’t respect you. He never did. It was about control.

But those eyes, but that voice, but those hands, but that goddamn smile.

You were putty in his hands, though your mind screamed at you to push away and fight back, to call the police, to land a blow to his face.

You were terrified of him, but he had you just where he wanted you. You were too weak. Weak for him.

“Say it,” he teased, leaning further in, brushing his lips past yours and pressing them to your damp cheek. “Tell me you need me. Say my name.”

You hated yourself in that moment. God, you wanted to hate him too, and you did, but not enough to pull away. Not enough to fight back. Not enough to muster up whatever self respect you had lost and say to hell with him.

Your fingers reached to clung to the collar of his shirt and you could practically felt his smile widen against your skin. He eventually released your jaw and your lips parted, the intimacy of his closeness melting your mind and blurring your senses. You swore this man was a drug.

When he leaned back to look at you, the same sense of expectation lingered in his eyes. He knew that no matter how far he went, no matter what he did, he would have you wrapped around his finger. He had broken past the wall you’d forced up. He’d tricked you into trusting him, into needing him, into yearning for him. He had succeeded in his goal, having found a way to make you submit to him willingly. To make you say and do as he pleased.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but the warmth of his palm sliding up and down your bare thigh, far softer than he’d ever handle the people who have died at his hand, and his piercing gaze awaiting your response as his forehead brushed against yours was enough for you to give in.

“I need you,” you sobbed out, pathetically. “I need you, Sukuna.”

He beamed. “There it is.”

His lips were on yours in seconds, molding passionately to meld into the shape of your mouth. He could feel a fresh set of salty tears slip down your face and he pushed in harder, grabbing the back of your head and gripping your hip securely. He tilted his head, plunging his tongue past your lips to entangle heatedly with yours. You tried to pull back to breathe, but he had none of it.

He pressed you back into the side of the car, devouring your lips as if you were his last meal. You reached your arms up and around his neck, pulling him closer, sinking into the vibrance of his grip and his lips against yours. He groaned, yanking your thighs close and slipping a hand between them, large digits dancing over the warm plush of your inner thighs. You moaned softly, brows pinching together as sharp teeth sank down into your bottom lip.

You gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself from the dizziness he made you feel. He yanked away, ducking down to nip at your neck. “Mine,” he hissed, curving into your soft body, breathing raggedly.

You nodded mindlessly, tilting your head back as Sukuna marked all over the expanse of your throat. His lips smoothed all over you, trailing down to your collarbone and over your breasts. His teeth were sharp, breath hot, lips wet and velvety despite his hardened exterior.

He picked his head back up, kissing your chasing lips gently before pulling back, kiss-swollen lips cracking a smile. “I almost forgot,” he began.

You looked at him in a daze, eyes hazy as he slipped your arms from around his neck. He carefully maneuvered you off of him and stood. You watched him blankly, disoriented and heated. You observed him grab the handle of the back seat to his car and yank it open, leaning over the seat to retrieve what you discovered to be a gun.

Suddenly, the haziness of the previous moment had faded, the weapon clutched within Sukuna’s hand breaking the glass cage that he had trapped you in.

He loaded it, pushing the ammo into the slit by the hilt of his palm with ease and pointing it upward. He turned over his shoulder to smirk down at you as you drew your knees into your chest, gradually registering what you were now involved in.

“Let me take care of this kid first, princess, and then you’re all mine.”

#The way i was reading the first few paragraphs and was like 😬😬#Bc ive studied criminology and just the was he was tlkin abt himself and the world and how he sees things was so fucking serial killer code #AND THEN IT GOT WORSE #AND EVEN WORSE #AND THEN IT HIT ROCK BOTTOM #ALL BEFORE YOU EVEN MENTIONED HIM ACTUALLY KILLING PPL LIKE #what a fucking trip like #Im not even a kuna girlie but this shit was so fucking good so so so fucking good ugh #Not even fanfic #This was a whole ass novel on its own #Fave writers

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espressokiri · 3 years ago

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Hidden Card

Sanzu Haruchiyo x GN!reader

In which even the devil shakes in fear when reader loses their patience.

Warnings: toxic relationship, violence, slightly suggestive

Genre: Angst? Fluff? idek what this is honestly

Loyalty was one thing both Y/n and Sanzu did not take lightly, it was the one thing that bind them together alongside the unconditional love they held for each other. It was a rather amusing to see the unhinged and ruthless Bonten number two be tied down to a mere civilian they stumbled across. A deception on Y/n’s part, as sinister thoughts plagued their mind and a smile sweet as honey would distract others away from their true self.

Sanzu was well aware of that hidden personality, hence why he had decided immediately on their first meeting that they would be his second half. Someone who would be able to keep up with him and his position in Bonten. Y/n themselves had earned themselves a name in Bonten as Mikey’s right hand, his hidden weapon. Their identity kept secret as to not bring any attention to them, only being reduced to Bonten number two’s plaything.

The sound of footsteps were loud as Y/n ambled over to where Sanzu had been held hostage. Getting a call from Mikey informing them of the situation and the male’s whereabouts, stating the gang was on their way towards the location, to which Y/n hummed in acknowledgement. “They’re mine to handle, got it?”

Now, Sanzu may speak with his leader with utmost respect but Y/n on the other hand held a slightly different approach, especially when it came to the people they held dear to their heart.

Kicking the rusted double doors open, Y/n was met with Sanzu being beaten by one of the delinquents in the middle of the abandoned building. The cheering of the gang ceased at the disruption, eyeing the intruder and scoffing unamused at how it wasn’t the whole of Bonten they were expecting.

“Looks like your plaything has come to join us.” The person beating Sanzu up cracked his knuckles as a sick grin formed on his face.

Y/n disregarded the men in the room and clicked their tongue, Sanzu looking at them with wide eyes and readied himself for the berating. “Haru, sweetheart.” Y/n started, the sweet smile returning on their features as they crossed their arms, “what did I say about taking your little drugs outside where vermin like them can easily take advantage of and overpower you?”

The echoing of Y/n’s foot tapping as they waited for him to answer made the male flinch, “told me not to do it.” he murmured, almost sounding incoherent. Y/n pulled out a small dagger from their sleeve, twirling the weapon before hurling it towards Sanzu.

Gasps of surprise escape the opposing gang members as the knife embeds itself right by Sanzu’s neck and onto the backrest of the chair he was tied to. Sanzu gulping as he could feel warm liquid drip from the nicked skin that the blade made contact with. He was aware that the blade landed exactly where Y/n wanted it.

“We’ll talk more about it at home, alright sweetie?” Shivers crawled down Sanzu’s spine at the cold tone used by them.

“What the hell?! Who are you?!”

Y/n turned to the leader who had stained his hands with beating up their beloved, quirking an eyebrow at him and giving him a dirty look. “Like you said, I’m that lovely man’s plaything.” They shrugged before drawing a gun from the waistband of their pants, “now let’s get this over with so I can punish him accordingly.”

A loud bang resonated the room as Y/n shot one of the nearby members right on the forehead, sweet smile turning malicious as they eyed the shaken up men, “lets play.”

Multiple shots rang throughout the building, Y/n swiftly dodging all their attempts at injuring them. Laughter echoed the building as they danced through the piling men, getting irritated when the bullets ran out. Resorting to using the gun to maim the male they were ready to shoot by welting him with the used up metal.

“Who the hell are they?!”

“They’re one of Bonten’s! They have the tattoo!”

“Oh so curious about me, aren’t ya?!” Y/n cackled as they reached into their sleeve and pulled out another dagger, arm extended and pointing the tip towards the leader who stood flabbergasted.

“I am the next person to be feared in Bonten after Mikey.” Y/n drawled, taking a step forward.

“I am the hidden card Mikey has kept up his sleeve.”

Another step.

“An anomaly to even the members of Bonten.”

Another.

“I am L/n Y/n, your biggest nightmare.” A wicked grin plastered on their lips as their pupils were blown wide by adrenaline and excitement. An exhilarating feeling rushing through their nerves as they continued, “allow me to make you my canvas with this dagger of mine.”

Mikey held his hand out towards the executive members of Bonten, the gang staring wide eyed at the scene before them. Ran tapping his extended baton on his shoulder as he took in the screams of Y/n’s victims, “this is what you were hiding from us, Mikey?” He sounded amused as his younger brother looked on in disgust, “they could be a little cleaner about it, Y/n’s dripping in blood. I can’t even tell if it’s theirs or the people being slaughtered right now.”

“No wonder the maniac took a liking to them.” Kokonoi scoffed, eyeing the tied up male before his eyes narrowed on the familiar dagger embedded near Sanzu’s neck. “Did Y/n do that on purpose?!” He pointed towards Sanzu in shock, eliciting a hearty laugh from Ran as he analyzed the tied up male who silently watched his significant other in awe, “no wonder he gets tame around them, looks like he’s Y/n’s plaything instead of the other way around.”

Y/n huffed as they finished off the last of the pathetic members of the lowly gang, wiping their dagger on their jeans before slipping it back into the sheath hidden in their sleeve. Head turning towards Sanzu as they took their sweet time making way towards him.

Their pointer finger tracing the male’s jawline before tipping it up to meet their gaze. Sanzu stared back intensely, eyes dropping down towards Y/n’s lips before hurriedly shifting back into their eyes. “My sweet baby.” Y/n hummed as they closed the gap between their lips, Sanzu groaning at the softness of it before leaning up further to deepen it.

“Nuh uh uh,” Y/n pulled away, softly biting Sanzu’s lower lip as they pulled away, wagging their finger in a disapproving way, “I have yet to punish you.”

“I wont do it again.” Sanzu spoke as Y/n tugged the knife away from the chair’s backrest, twirling it between their fingers as they looked down at Sanzu, eyeing the red streak that painted the male’s neck from the injury they gave him.

Y/n placed both hands on either side of the male on the armrest of the chair, on top of his bound hands that twitched under their grasp, the male forgetting he was bound.

Leaning forwards towards Sanzu’s neck, Y/n stuck their tongue out and licked the stripe of red that tainted his skin, the male tilting his neck to the side with a shaky breath as his neck was assaulted with the nibbling and sucking Y/n graced him with. “You better not do it again, or it’ll be your shoulder next time.” Y/n pulled away, a quirk on their lips as they swiped the dagger across the bindings of his arms.

#tokyo revengers imagine #Tokyo Revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers drabbles #sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu imagines #sanzu imagine #sanzu scenarios #sanzu x y/n #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers angst #sanzu fluff #sanzu hcs #sanzu angst

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mell0bee · 4 years ago

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the official mell0bee campaign 3 predictions/wishlist (let’s be real here mostly wishlist)

that one post abt gay ppl talking abt the next critrole campaign like its the superbowl is correct

also i wrote the majority of these in may but never posted it

SAM RIEGEL PLAYS A CLERIC. this is not a prediction this is a THREAT.

i made a whole powerpoint about this i think u guys already understand why lol

specifically i think knowledge domain would be so cool for sam (and also i love knowledge domain so i am biased)

ashley johnson plays a bard (or at least SOMEONE plays a bard)

someone plays a full paladin not just multiclass (marisha!!! laura!!!)

someone plays an artificer (travis!!)

someone plays a fighter (personally rooting for eldritch knight they’re so cool)

oh man i only got 2 more classes left huh i may as well throw my hat in the ring, i think druid/sorcerer and rogue/monk??? idk who would play what tho.

ok obviously this is not gonna be the lineup and idk if this party is balanced but FOR SURE i think they’re gonna be more healy after only having one healer at the start of C2 shbfnfj

SOMEONE PLAY A WARFORGED/AEORMATON pls i wanna see it

someone should play a changeling it would be funny

i’m not sure of guidelines in LA but i really hope the setup is the group is back at the table again but it’s still prerecorded (live closed captioned and prerecorded talks machina, my beloved)

idk what the seating chart will be. i sure hope it is chaos. (i saw a post a while back that was like the Ideal Seating Chart pairing everyone with people they haven’t sat next to before + for the Peak Chaos the but i forget it F)

i really hope laura and sam get to sit near each other again though

set in a new continent, i think vasselheim would be very cool but honestly anywhere we go i will not complain

i think a bunch of agnostics on the God Continent would be a cool contrast to C2 where half the party worshipped illegal gods

yknow i was gonna say they start at level 3+? maybe? i am not sure if that’s matt’s style but they could wanna do something different than c2

i thought that there wasn’t going to be as much of a timeskip compared to VM to MN but honestly with exu there might be? say like 8-10 yrs after exu takes place or something, so uh a While after the MN

i would say they might play pre-calamity too but that just seems like a worldbuilding mess for matt so maybe not

someone better play a pair of siblings. it will make me very happy.

someone plays the opposite gender (i think maybe liam)

someone other than sam (alongside sam?) plays a tiny character (pls guys it’s so fun)

also laura’s character continues to be underneath 5’5, small character or nah (but yes pls play a small character that would make me so happy)

as for ppl who i want to have backstories together: travis and sam, liam and marisha, so then tal and laura or laura and ashley

laura and sam would also be good

(yes i am saying travis and sam should play the siblings)

also ashley and liam would be very good too

marisha has a high charisma modifier!!!

sam is tiny again (i think it would be funny). also definitively does not have any children. no kids. not for sam. someone else can have a kid.

LET LAURA GO FERAL. I WANNA SEE HER HIT THINGS AND JUST BE UNHINGED.

both of liam’s PC’s parents are ALIVE AND WELL AND GOOD PARENTS. also a hit die higher than a d6 and a positive CON modifier dear lord liam you know the most times KO’d on critrolestats is not a competition right

opposite of liam. i want travis to try a glass canon for once. also if he is not an artificer i want him to be a full spellcaster it would be so good!!

honestly all i want from ashley is for her to be there the whole campaign, no work taking her away from it (and maybe playing a more outgoing character! if she feels comfortable!!)

and idek what to expect from talesin at this point i am sure his character will bring out some sort of morality crisis in me tho (they always do and i love him for it)

also tangential, and idk if it will happen but someone playing an aroace character or just generally an aspec character would make me an aroace very happy :>

i feel like getting some form of queer characters is a given and obviously i want that and any form of rep but aspec rep is so rare and cad is! so good!

also let liam and sam romance each other 2k21

#critical role #campaign 3 #critical role campaign 3 #bells hells #bee watches c3 #long post #bee post

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trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

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okay. i have all the thoughts in the world, but what else is new?

pretty sure i read this while holding my breath the entire time. reading about how terrified baby girl was of letting go of carmelo is heartbreaking. ivy is forever going to be traumatized by this, but zaia has also gone through a significant amount of trauma. she lost her father. roman stepped in as that father role and then showed his true self and now has really shown his true self, thus losing him as well. she witnessed a man be brutally murdered by roman. she knows roman has her mom. like, my God, the extent of that trauma. both ivy and zaia should/would be in therapy for years. for sure.

and ivy. idek where to start with her. it would take so much work and healing for her to ever open herself up to love and trust another man after this. if she's even willing, because i can see her not even wanting to risk it because of her daughter and the trauma she went through as well. she's so resilient and unrelenting, a necessity to make it out the way she did.

now roman/mateo....i just have no words. you should have heard the way i screamed when this nigga really had the audacity to give her his dead ex-wife's wedding dress!!!! the ex wife he killed??!?!?!? and this crazy ass motherfucker reciting vows like this is some tyler perry movie???? THIS NIGGA WAS UNHINGED AND NEEDED TO BE PUT DOWN! IDC WHAT YOU GIRLIES SAY!!

now lastly.....i could be wrong, but i wonder if roman is really dead. it seemed like ken's shot was effective, but idk, mateo seem like michael myers or some shit. his ass won't die, and i'm terrified what that means. they should have called in the national guard for his ass. seal team 6 or something.

i have a feeling this book is going to end with an open-ended ending or a cliffhanger.

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Nine

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 6k

💥TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains DARK THEMES. Please proceed with caution💥

The quiet suburban street was now a grotesque distortion of itself.

The sun sagged in the sky, bleeding out its last light, but the golden hues of dusk were no match for the relentless strobe of red and blue. Police lights pulsed like an open wound, casting jagged, shifting shadows across the once-pristine houses. Manicured lawns, previously symbols of order and wealth, were now splashed with chaotic flashes, flickering like something out of a fever dream. The street, once a haven of silence and security, had been reduced to the backdrop of something far darker, ominous.

Carmelo envisioned how Waco must have looked back in 1993. A neighborhood swallowed whole by the weight of disaster, its carefully curated normalcy shattered under the weight of gunfire, fire, and the relentless gaze of the world. A place where the scent of blood and burning wood tainted the air, where sirens drowned out the prayers of the desperate. Where families—just like the ones here—once sat behind their doors, believing the horrors of the world couldn’t touch them. Until they did.

This somewhat feels the same.

Police cruisers lined the curb by Roman Reigns’ mansion, their doors flung open. Officers moved with urgency, barking orders, sealing off the area with bright yellow crime scene tape. The air was thick with tension, the hum of police radios mixing with the low murmurs of horrified neighbors. Some stood on their porches, whispering in disbelief. Others had locked their doors, their blinds drawn tight, unwilling to bear witness to whatever horror was unfolding on their street.

The blood that soaked Roman’s lush front yard—Gable’s blood—was already beginning to dry, darkening into the earth like a cruel stain. His body was being wheeled into an ambulance, hidden beneath a white sheet, but the weight of his absence lingered, heavy and suffocating.

Seated in the back of his cruiser, Carmelo watched them take him away, his throat tight as he dragged a hand down his face. The worst part was still ahead.

The phone call.

To Gable’s wife, Maxxine. To his daughter.

To tell them that their husband and father was never coming home.

But grief had to wait. Because Ivy was still inside. And so was that lunatic.

The flashing red and blue lights reflected in the windshield of his cruiser, casting fleeting shadows over the little girl beside him.

Zaia refused to leave his side. Her tiny fingers gripped the edge of his jacket draped over her shoulders. She was still trembling, her eyes too wide, too empty for someone so small. She hadn’t spoken much since she watched Gable get shot and her mother get dragged into that house of horrors; just the occasional sniffle, the quietest whimper.

Duchess lay curled in the back seat, her tiny body nestled into the fabric, rising and falling with each shaky, exhausted breath. The puppy had run for her life, her little paws carrying her as far as they could after Ivy had set her free. Now, spent from the fear and the frantic escape, she had finally succumbed to sleep. Even as the sirens wailed outside, she barely stirred, as if the terror of the last few days had drained every last ounce of strength from her small frame.

A pair of unmarked black SUVs screeched to a halt at the barricade. The moment the doors swung open, two figures emerged, cutting through the commotion with an air of controlled authority.

Detective Cody Rhodes and Lieutenant Jade Cargill had arrived.

Rhodes’ sharp blue eyes were unreadable as he flashed his badge. Cargill flanked him, tall, imposing, exuding a deadly calm that made even the most seasoned officers step aside. They moved with urgency, cutting through the chaos as they headed straight for Carmelo. There was no hesitation in their steps, no wasted movement. They had a job to do.

The two men’s eyes locked, but before either could say anything, Rhodes’ eyes flicked to the ambulance, the blood staining the white sheet covering the body. “Who’s that?” he asked, solemn.

Carmelo swallowed hard. “My partner. Gable.”

Cody frowned. He was the man he’d spoken to on FaceTime, sitting in the passenger seat while Carmelo drove. It hadn’t been that long ago. Now everything was already going to hell.

His expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something else—regret, maybe. He gave a small nod. “I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, clipped, but genuine.

Carmelo just swallowed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Me too.”

But Cody didn’t linger on grief. His next words were clipped, focused.

“But we need to move. Now.”

Carmelo exhaled sharply, forcing himself to push past the gut-wrenching weight of loss. He had a job to do.

Jade folded her arms. “What the hell is happening here?”

Carmelo tightened his grip on the little girl in his arms. “We got a hostage situation,” he said grimly, his voice thick with urgency. “Roman’s neighbor. Ivy Jones. She and her daughter lived next door to him.” He jerked his chin toward the house across the street, its windows dark and lifeless, an eerie contrast to the flashing red and blue lights flooding the night. The air was heavy with tension, the kind that crawled under your skin and settled in your bones, the kind that told you time was running out.

That every second they wasted out here was another second Ivy spent trapped with that psychopath inside.

Jaw clenched, he turned sharply to the newcomers. “Who the hell is this guy?” he demanded, his voice rough, desperate for answers—anything that could tell him what the hell they were dealing with.

Jade let out a slow, measured breath. “We’ve been hunting him for over a year. And now, another neighborhood is coming face-to-face with the monster he really is.”

“You said his name is not Roman Reigns.”

Cody took a step forward, his gaze hard. “Roman Reigns doesn’t exist. That’s a fake name. A mask. The man inside that house is Mateo Hobbs, and he is one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever encountered.”

Carmelo’s grip on Zaia tightened. “What do you mean?”

Jade spoke this time, her voice laced with anger. “He’s a manipulator. A sadist. A fucking killer. He doesn’t just hurt people—he destroys them. Women, men, even unborn babies. And when things get too hot? He disappears. Changes his name. Leaves bodies behind.”

Carmelo’s blood ran cold.

“He’s evaded us before,” Rhodes added grimly. “We had him locked up once. But he got out.”

That stopped Carmelo dead in his tracks.

“He escaped?”

“Slipped through the cracks like a fucking ghost,” Jade said, bitterness dripping from every word. “And we’re not about to let that happen again.”

Another choked sob came from Zaia. Carmelo glanced down at her, at the tears streaming down her face, staring at the house her mother was entrapped in.

She was just a kid. She shouldn’t be here.

Jade’s gaze flicked to the little girl, her expression softening. “And who’s this little lady?” she questioned.

Hesitant for a second, Carmelo then replied, “Ivy’s daughter.”

Jade crouched down slowly, making sure not to startle her, whose wide brown eyes darted between the unfamiliar faces. Jade’s sharp features softened, her voice gentle but steady.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured. “My name is Jade. We’re here to help your mama, okay?”

Zaia clung tighter to Carmelo, her small fingers digging into his uniform. Her tear-filled gaze flicked between Jade and the chaotic scene behind her.

Jade didn’t rush her. “Can you tell me your name, baby girl?”

For a moment, Zaia hesitated, her lip trembling. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she mumbled, “Zaia.”

Jade offered a small, reassuring nod. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Zaia’s breath hitched, her small chest rising and falling in uneven tremors. Her fingers uncurled just enough for her to lift a shaky hand, pointing toward the house across from her own. “She’s in there,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “With him.”

Cody’s jaw tightened. He turned to Carmelo, his voice sharp. “Why the hell is she still here?” Frustration edged his tone, barely restrained.

Carmelo stiffened. “I’m not just gonna—”

“This is an active crime scene,” Cody cut him off firmly. “We called in SWAT and they’re getting ready to move in. If bullets start flying, do you want her caught in the crossfire?”

Carmelo clenched his jaw, his arms instinctively tightening around Zaia. He wasn’t about to tell Cody that she’d already seen more than she ever should have—had already watched a man die right in front of her. But he knew Cody was right. Keeping her here was dangerous.

Still, the thought of handing her off, of not being the one to protect her, made his guts twist.

Jade straightened, her expression softer for the sake of the clearly frightened, traumatized child. “I’ll take her,” she said simply.

Carmelo hesitated, but Jade didn’t wait for an answer. She reached out, gently prying Zaia from his arms.

Zaia whimpered, clinging to him tighter. “No—no, please, I wanna stay with you!”

“Zaia.” Carmelo’s voice was low but firm. He smoothed a hand down her back, an assuring gesture even when he didn't quite feel that way. “Sweetie, I need you to go with the nice lady. She’s gonna keep you safe. Trust me, okay?”

She hiccupped, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

Jade hoisted her up with ease, settling her on her hip. “I got you, baby girl,” she murmured, “You’re safe with me, I promise.”

Zaia let out a shaky breath, burying her face in Jade’s shoulder as she walked swiftly toward one of the police vehicles.

Cody turned back to Carmelo, his expression unreadable. “What else can you tell me?”

Carmelo exhaled, rubbing his temples, exhaustion pressing down on him like a weight. “Roman’s locked down the house. Bolted the doors, barricaded the windows. He’s not letting anyone in or out.”

Cody’s jaw tightened. “That’s because he’s planning something.”

Carmelo frowned. “What do you mean?”

Without answering, Cody reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick manila folder, his fingers drumming against the worn cover before he shoved it into Carmelo’s hands. “This will catch you up. Like Cargill said, we’ve been tracking the son of a bitch for over a year.”

Carmelo hesitated, then flipped the folder open. The first thing he saw was a name: Mateo Hobbs, bolded in black ink beneath a photo of a younger Roman Reigns. His heart kicked hard against his ribs.

His eyes swept over the pages—crime scene photos, autopsy reports, psychological evaluations. A long, grim history that had been hidden behind Roman Reigns’ easy charm and impeccable reputation.

So many deaths.

The details clawed at Carmelo’s stomach.

His college girlfriend, found hanging in her dorm room. A suicide on paper, but the bruising on her wrists and neck suggested otherwise. His pregnant wife, stabbed multiple times in the abdomen. His own cousin. Stabbed in the groin. Castrated. Left to bleed out like an afterthought.

All clinical, methodical. A morbid pattern.

And speaking of clinical—his psych evaluations were blood-curdling.

Flipping to another section of the file, Carmelo’s pulse hammered as he scanned the reports. Words jumped out at him. Narcissistic tendencies. Extreme manipulation. High-functioning sociopath. No empathy. No remorse.

He swallowed hard.

A homicidal maniac was welcomed into this neighborhood months ago. Went to their parties. Shook their hands. Smiled at the people on the street. And no one had realized it, no one had suspected.

Not until an hour ago.

His stomach churned.

“Jesus.” His voice came out hoarse.

“Yeah.” Cody’s nod was grim, an unmistakable edge beneath his tone. “Mateo doesn’t have a pattern. He doesn’t leave evidence. No traces, no witnesses—at least, none that survive. He knows how to clean up. He knows how to blend in. He’s calculated.”

Jade had returned, her arms crossed, her gaze hard. “That’s what makes him so damn dangerous.”

Carmelo looked back up, the weight of their words settling in his chest like lead. “So what’s his deal? He just kills for fun?”

Cody kissed his teeth. “Not exactly.”

“He doesn’t kill out of impulse,” Jade elaborated. “He kills because he wants to. Because it gives him a sense of control. He studies his victims, gets close to them, learns their fears, their weaknesses.”

“Every murder has a purpose, even if it’s only clear to him. Sometimes it’s revenge. Sometimes it’s power. And sometimes?” Cody’s jaw ticked. “Sometimes, it’s just because he can.”

Carmelo dragged a hand down his face. Fuck.

“He’s playing a game,” Cody continued. “A sick, twisted game where he’s always one step ahead. He makes people trust him, makes them feel safe—” his voice dripped with disgust “—just so he can tear their lives apart.”

Carmelo’s gut twisted. Ivy and Gemini.

Roman had done exactly that—slithered into Ivy’s life, isolated her, driven a wedge between her and Gemini. What had once been an unshakable friendship had crumbled under his manipulation. And now, Ivy was at the mercy of a man who never left survivors, and Gemini nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t a coincidence. No way.

Cody’s jaw flexed. “When Mateo is cornered, he doesn’t run. He makes sure no one wins.” He shook his head, glancing towards the house again. “If he’s barricaded himself inside that house, that means he’s got a plan. And trust me—you don’t wanna find out what it is.”

The air around them thickened. The tension was palpable.

Carmelo shook his head, heart pounding. “And now Ivy’s in there with him.”

Jade’s expression darkened. “We need to move fast. Because if history tells us anything?” Her gaze flicked to Cody.

“We’re running out of time.”

Ivy's breath came in ragged gasps, Gable’s blood and brains still clinging to her like a grotesque second skin. But even that horror paled in comparison to the fury burning through her veins.

“You shot at my daughter,” she seethed, her voice trembling with rage. “You could have killed her!”

Roman didn’t even look at her. He stormed around the house, sealing all the doors. Bolting all the windows. Turning his house into a fucking fortress.

Each lock clicked into place with an eerie finality. Metal scraped against metal as he slid the deadbolts shut, his massive frame moving with ruthless efficiency. The chains rattled as he pulled them tight, ensuring that no one—not her, not the police, not a goddamn soul—was getting in or out.

As she watched Roman move, a chilling realization settled deep in her bones.

He wasn’t panicking.

He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t frantic. He was prepared.

He had always been one step ahead.

She flinched as he suddenly turned toward her. His dark, wild eyes raked over her, dragging from the tangled mess of her hair to the torn fabric of her shirt, to the bruises forming around her throat from his cruel chokehold moments ago. He devoured the sight of her, his lips parted slightly as if savoring the moment.

The amusement in his eyes then dissolved into something darker, something dangerous.

“I don’t trust you anymore, baby girl,” he murmured, voice thick with something unreadable. “You lied to me.”

He lunged.

She barely had time to react before his hands clamped around her arms, lifting her like she weighed nothing. She thrashed, fists pounding against his back, feet kicking wildly as he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Put me down, you sick fuck!” she screamed, nails clawing at his skin.

Roman ignored her.

The walls blurred as he carried her, each step heavy, controlled as he made his descent back into the basement.

Cold.

Final.

He dumped her on the hard concrete floor. Not the mattress where she had been forced to sleep for days, but the floor. The message was clear. The niceties are over.

Blood dripped from his temple where she had struck him with the tray, streaking down his face in dark, viscous lines. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. If anything, it only made him look more monstrous. More unhinged.

Ivy scooted back on her hands, pressing herself against the wall, her chest rising and falling in ragged, shallow breaths.

He just killed a cop.

Murdered a man in front of her daughter.

In front of another officer.

Officer Hayes saw the whole thing.

He had to still be outside, waiting. Backup had to be coming, to help him rescue her.

But one look at Roman, at the eerie calm in his expression, told her everything.

He was ready.

And whatever madness he was about to unleash—he was dragging her down with him.

She looked on as he turned, stepping away for a minute that seemed to stretch into an eternity. And when he returned, she felt her stomach plummet.

In his hands was a dress.

Not just any dress.

A wedding dress.

The fabric shimmered under the dim basement light. Delicate, vintage lace. Soft ivory, not stark white—aged, preserved. Intricately embroidered. A thing of beauty. A thing of ghosts.

Ivy gulped thickly. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“…What is that?”

Roman smiled. A slow, creepy, thrilled smile.

“This, my love,” he said, voice reverent, “is your wedding dress.”

Her stomach turned to ice.

What?

Roman ran a hand down the delicate fabric, almost tenderly. His fingers traced the intricate lace, his gaze softening in a way that made her sick.

“Elesha wore it on our wedding day,” he murmured. “She looked so beautiful that day. But…” His dark eyes flicked to Ivy, full of something twisted. “Something tells me you’ll blow her away with how you’ll look in this dress.”

Ivy’s blood ran cold.

His dead wife’s wedding dress.

The walls felt like they were closing in.

“Put it on,” Roman ordered.

Ivy just stared at him.

His expression darkened, amusement slipping into something deadly.

“I said—put it on,” he repeated.

Her body wouldn’t move. Her limbs were frozen, paralyzed by the sheer insanity of what was happening.

She shook her head. A tiny, barely-there motion. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

The moment the words left her lips, his hand shot out.

Fingers wrapped around her throat in a bruising grip, yanking her forward.

She gasped, nails clawing at his wrist as he crushed the air from her lungs, forcing her face inches from his.

His breath was hot against her ear. Low. Dangerous.

“If you don’t,” he whispered, voice almost gentle, “I’ll go outside and get Zaia myself.”

Ivy gasped, eyes wide, blood turning to ice.

Roman sighed, his thumb dragging absently across the pulse in her throat. “I’ll gun down every motherfucker out there to get her, too. And you know it.”

Her vision blurred.

No.

No, he wouldn’t.

But then she saw it.

The gleam in his eyes. The sick amusement.

The pleasure he took in watching her break.

He would.

A sob fought its way up her throat.

Tears burned hot down her cheeks.

Her hands shook as she reached for the dress.

Roman released her, stepping back, watching her with the same smug satisfaction as a predator watching its prey finally submit.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

The SWAT team arrived in full force, their black-clad figures moving with precise, deliberate efficiency. Armored vehicles rumbled to a stop, their engines growling like beasts ready to strike. Officers fanned out, their boots crunching against the pavement as they secured the perimeter, their weapons raised and ready. The tactical command post had been set up across the street, blueprints of the house spread across the hood of a police cruiser. Officers hovered over them, strategizing, mapping out every possible entry point, every potential threat.

The breach team moved first, sweeping the perimeter with methodical precision. They checked every door, every window, every possible access point. Main entry, fortified. Deadbolts reinforced. Steel plates bolted over the side windows. Rear exit, barricaded from within. Basement access, padlocked from the inside. Every door was shut tight, every point of entry sealed as if the house itself had swallowed its victims whole.

“This place is locked up like a goddamn bunker,” one of the SWAT officers muttered, stepping back from the rear entrance. He tapped his headset. “No visual inside. We got nothing.”

Carmelo watched from the sidelines, frustration bubbling. This wasn’t just a hostage situation—it was a goddamn death trap. The longer they stood out here, debating their next move, the more time Roman had to do whatever sick thing he had planned for Ivy.

Cody stood beside him, clad in full tactical gear. His bulletproof vest was strapped tight, his rifle slung over his chest. He checked his watch, then turned to Carmelo, his face rife with urgency.

“We don’t have time for this,” he announced, motioning behind him with two fingers. “We’re moving in!”

Carmelo froze. A thick weight settled in his chest, pressing against his ribs.

Moving in?

His instincts screamed at him. This isn’t right. This isn’t safe. Busting down that door without knowing what was inside? That was suicide. That was reckless. That was exactly what Roman wanted.

“We cannot just move in!” he snapped, his voice rougher than he intended. “That fucker is armed! He’s killed already! I’m not about to move reckless and take a mother away from her little girl!”

His words hit the air like a gunshot. Cody and Jade both turned to him, their eyes sharp, assessing.

Carmelo swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a breath. His pulse was hammering in his ears. He dragged a hand down his face, trying to steady himself. Think, Hayes. Think.

“I’m sayin’…I’m sayin’ we gotta move correct.” Carmelo’s voice was lower now, controlled, but tension coiled beneath the surface like a live wire. “There might be other people in there, and we could lose them all if we don’t move smart—if we don’t think this through.”

His mind raced.

Gemini could be in there. Countless others, maybe.

His throat tightened.

He couldn’t afford to let this go wrong. He’d already lost his partner. He wasn’t about to lose his girl, too.

Cody’s jaw tensed. His fingers flexed around his rifle, knuckles white against the grip. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something dangerous.

“Hayes,” he said, voice sharp as a blade, “if we wait any longer, everybody in there, including that little girl’s mother, will die.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice but making sure Carmelo felt the weight of every word. “This is Mateo Hobbs we’re dealing with. I’ve spent months tracking this bastard, and now I finally got him. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. You know how this ends if we don’t act now.” His gaze darkened. “It’s now, or it’s never.”

Jade stepped up beside them, adjusting the grip on her HK416 rifle. Her movements were smooth, practiced. Cody grabbed another ballistic vest, shoving it toward Carmelo.

“Can we get to it?” he said, his tone clipped. “Can we go now?”

Carmelo stared at the vest in his hands. There was something in Cody’s tone—something personal. This wasn’t just about taking down a dangerous man. This was a vendetta, one that could end innocent lives.

One wrong move, and Ivy wouldn’t make it out. Maybe none of them would.

But one right move?

One right move, and they could end this nightmare. Get her out. Get all of them out.

With a steadying breath, Carmelo yanked the vest from Cody’s outstretched hands, fastening it over his chest.

“Let’s go.”

When she was a little girl, Ivy had imagined her wedding day bathed in golden light.

A garden ceremony, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and roses. A soft breeze carrying the delicate chime of wind chimes and laughter. She would walk down the aisle on steady feet, her wedding dress flowing around her like a dream, her heart pounding not with fear, but with love.

As she grew older, she imagined it would be Angelo, waiting for her at the altar, his smile warm, his eyes full of promise. He would take her hands in his, whisper something only she could hear, something that would make her laugh even as happy tears welled in her eyes.

Their vows would be spoken with certainty, their future stretching ahead of them like an open road, untouched by darkness.

Ivy had always believed that was how her love story would unfold.

Now, it was nothing more than a shattered fantasy, ashes and dust.

The dress was suffocating, clinging to her like a spider would cling to its prey, ready to devour. It was heavy, with sweat, dust, and something far more sinister. Once belonging to a woman murdered at the hands of her husband. Roman’s dead wife—his first bride, his first possession. Now, he wanted Ivy to take her place.

The dress was suffocating. It clung to Ivy’s skin like a predator, sticky with sweat, dust, and something far more sinister. It was heavy—drenched in history. The history of a dead woman. Roman’s first wife. His first possession. A woman he had claimed, then discarded.

Now, he wanted Ivy to take her place.

Across from her, Roman stood tall, his broad frame shadowed in the dim, flickering light. His suit was crisp, his face clean-shaven, his long dark hair slicked back. He had the look of a man at peace, as if this moment—the one he had constructed in his deranged mind—was everything he had ever wanted.

The handcuffs binding his wrist to hers were agonizing, cutting into her skin every time he moved. Wherever he went, she followed. A grotesque symbol of his control. Of his twisted idea of devotion.

A small table sat between them, draped in a white lace cloth stained yellow with age. Atop it, two candles flickered, their wax dripping like melting flesh. A withered bouquet lay beside them, the petals shriveled, brown. And at the center—two wine glasses.

A wedding altar. A sacrificial offering.

“Ivy,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of her bound hand. The cuffs linking them together were tight, cold against her skin. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. I knew you were the one. I knew you were meant to be mine.”

Ivy’s insides twisted. She wanted to scream, to rip the dress off her body and scrub every inch of herself clean. But she stayed still. Forced to listen to this insanity.

Roman went on, his voice shaking slightly, like this actually meant something to him. “I vow to protect you. To love you. To cherish you in a way no one else ever could. And in return, you will be everything I need you to be. My perfect wife. My queen. The mother of the children we will have.”

His eyes narrowed, bone-chilling. “I will make sure no one ever takes you away from me,” he whispered, his fingers tightening around hers, his grip a slow, merciless vise. “And you will be mine. You will give yourself to me fully, in every way I want, from this day forward.”

Give herself.

To be broken.

To be raped.

To be used.

To be devoured piece by piece until there was nothing left of her but a hollow shell, a vessel for his sick desires.

Again.

Eyes trained on her, he lifted her bound hand to his lips and pressed soft kisses against her knuckles.

Fighting the urge to gag was getting tougher and tougher.

“You may now say your vows,” he instructed.

Ivy struggled hard to swallow down her revulsion. She cleared her throat, as if she were preparing for the speech of a lifetime.

“I vow...” she began, voice steady, tears rolling down her cheeks, “I vow to keep reminding you that the police are outside. That you killed one of their own.”

Roman’s expression darkened instantly.

Ivy tilted her head, her full lips curled into the faintest smile. “And I vow,” she continued, “that whatever happens to me…I know for a fact, you’re not making it out of here alive.”

Something inside him snapped.

The chain between them rattled as he yanked her toward him, their bodies colliding hard. His breath was hot against her cheek, his grip a steel vise around her wrist.

“You think they’ll take you from me?” he snarled. “They won’t. No one will.”

He reached into his pocket, and before she could react, he pulled out a small glass bottle.

The smell hit her first. Sharp. Bitter.

Ivy recoiled, her stomach lurching.

Roman lifted the bottle slightly, tilting it so the candlelight glinted off the label as he poured its contents into the two glasses.

A crystalline liquid. Clear. Odorless.

She looked closer, and gasped.

Potassium cyanide.

A slow, creeping horror wrapped itself around her ribs, tightening, tightening...

“Poison,” she whispered, the word like ash in her mouth.

Roman smiled. His voice softened, almost coaxing as his fingers caressed the bottle. “A permanent solution for us to be together. To still have our forever.” He lifted his glass, swirling the contents gently. “A toast…to our union. To Roman and Ivy Reigns. Bound by one bond, now and always.”

Ivy’s heart pounded, each beat hammering against her ribcage like a desperate, caged thing.

“Roman, I…I don’t wanna die. Please,” she begged.

At her plea, he sighed, shaking his head. “This ain’t about death, baby.” His voice was patient, indulgent. “This is about devotion.”

“And what about my daughter? Zaia will be an orphan!”

Roman’s expression darkened. A moment of silence stretched between them before he finally replied.

“She’ll grieve,” he mused, “Children are resilient. And Zaia…She’s strong, just like her mama.”

Ivy’s pulse was a wild, erratic drum in her heaving chest as her brain swirled erratically at the thought of her baby being all alone.

No mother. No father. No one to hold her when she cried, to tuck her in at night, to remind her she was loved.

A childhood stolen. A life shattered.

Because of this madman.

“No,” she choked out, shaking her head violently. “No, no, no!”

She thrashed against the cuffs, against the sickening weight of the dress clinging to her skin, against the inevitability of what he wanted to do to her.

She couldn’t die.

Not like this. Not by his hand. Not while Zaia still needed her.

His words were the final straw.

“No!” she screamed louder. She wrenched backward, twisting and writhing like a wild animal. “No! I won’t do it! Let me go!” She was physically weak, but she had made up her mind that if she did die, it would be from trying to escape this place. She had had enough.

Roman’s patience snapped. He kissed his teeth, seizing her by the arms. “We can’t be together if we don’t do this, Ivy! Now shut up and drink the damn thing!”

“Help!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to get to her feet, but it was difficult when she was being held back by a human anchor. But there were no limits where her life depended on it. “Somebody help me!”

Her heart dropped as his huge hand wrenched her head back, forcing her mouth open.

No! Please, God, please—

The cup tilted toward her lips.

A sudden, earth-rumbling crash shattered the tense silence above them, followed by the sharp clatter of something heavy hitting the floor.

Voices. Loud. Urgent. Rushed.

Both Ivy and Roman went rigid for just a second, the weight of what was coming pressing down like a vice.

She reacted first.

Twisting violently, throwing her full weight against him. They crashed into the table, knocking the candles to the floor, a splinter of wood slicing above her eye. Wax splattered. Shadows leapt wildly across the walls.

The cuffs yanked painfully against her wrist as she fought like hell, breath ragged, heart hammering.

Her eyes fell upon his gun. Tucked into his waistband.

Desperation surged through her as she dove for it, fingers clawing for the weapon. But Roman snatched her wrist, wrenching it painfully out of reach. She let out an involuntary cry of pain, the firearm slipping from her fingers and clattering to the ground—she could hear the rasp of metal against concrete as it slid across the floor.

Roman grabbed her by the throat, crushing her into the floor with his size, his grip unrelenting. She clutched at his wrist with both hands, gasping for breath, his long fingers bruising her windpipe. Her vision swam. Pink, then red, then black.

The madman cocked his head to the side, eyeing her with bemused interest.

“I’ve always liked how feisty you are,” he murmured. His free hand slid beneath the layers of fabric of her dress, his fingers searching. “Maybe you wanna consummate our marriage first…”

The horror snapped her back into herself.

Oh, no! Not again.

He tugged her panties to the side.

“I’ll always be a part of you, Ivy,” he said, his fingers brushing against her folds, “You ain’t never gon’ be free of me. You belong to me forever, baby girl.”

As he spoke, Ivy fought the panic rising and forced herself to focus. Bringing up both knees, she caught him square in the balls. Roman grunted, his grip on her throat loosening just enough. He collapsed to the side, cupping himself and moaning, his eyes squeezed shut in that particular agony that only a shot to the testicles could evoke. Ivy clutched at her throat with her free hand, coughing as she struggled to suck oxygen back into her body.

Moving more out of instinct than any sort of coherent awareness, she crawled as closely as she could toward the weapon, grappling with the massive weight of Roman literally tethered to her. Sweat and blood impaired her vision as she stretched her hand out, her fingertips just grazing the grip...

Another loud crash.

Then—

“FREEZE! DON'T MOVE!”

Armed men in black swarmed into the basement, weapons drawn.

Ivy barely heard them.

She turned.

Roman lunged, an enraged roar.

BANG!

The shot rang out like thunder.

He jerked back violently, his lips parting in shock. A deep crimson stain spread across his torso, dark and blooming over his dress shirt.

The gun trembled in Ivy’s hand, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

His trembling hands pressed against the wound, as though he could hold himself together, as though sheer force of will could undo what she had done.

His eyes found hers.

Confusion. Hurt. A twisted kind of disbelief.

“Baby…” His voice was barely more than a breath, raw and fragile, as if she had betrayed him. As if she was the one who had shattered their delusion.

Then, a second shot—louder, sharper.

Roman’s entire body jolted as a second gunshot rang out, the bullet ripping through his back.

Unlike Ivy’s, Cody Rhodes’ aim was precise, unforgiving.

A wet, gurgling choke tore from Roman's throat. His knees buckled beneath him, his massive frame swaying. His fingers twitched, still reaching for Ivy. As if, even now, he could still pull her back into his grasp. As if she could still belong to him, one more time.

But there was no more time.

With a sickening thud, he collapsed forward onto the cold floor, the impact sending a final shudder through his massive frame.

Silence.

Ivy stared down at him, her vision tunneling, the gun slipping from her fingers. Her chest heaved, but the air wouldn’t come.

It was over.

A choked, broken sound tore from her lips, something between a sob and a gasp. Relief crashed into her—too fast, too hard—drowning her in the weight of it all.

Her torment. The unspeakable horrors he had inflicted on her. The sheer, staggering relief of knowing he could never touch her again.

Footsteps. A key unlocking the cuffs. Freeing her. A figure kneeling beside her.

“Ivy?” a woman said gently to her. “My name is Jade. We got you, okay? You’re safe now.”

Ivy lifted her gaze, dazed.

Then—

The sobs burst free. Hot, wracking, desperate.

Panic, fear, relief, surging like wildfire through her veins with a brutality that she could no longer contain.

Her chest tightened even as her wails amplified.

The walls blurred. The edges of her vision darkened.

And then—

The world slipped away, fading to black.

We're in the endgame now.

Expect chapter ten on Thursday or Friday. What do you expect/predict from the final chapter?

Please remember that this is FICTION and nothing more. Thank you so much for understanding!

Your comments and reblogs are so much appreciated! Please keep your Asks coming, loving all the theories!

🏷️: @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @thewarlordsworld

@dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @iguessilikewrestlingnow

@purplehairgawdess @mohawkmama @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @tribalhoochie @wrestlingprincess80

@papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @unfriendly–blvck–hottie

@theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @sassginaswanmills

@theglamclosetsl @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal @crxssjae

@twocentuar @surdelcielo @althegreat33 @alichesmi @eclectic-tee

@joannasteez @whatdoeseverybodywant @puppetmastermya @caramelcleopatraa @femdisa

@megamindsecretlair @headoftheetable @brwnsugababe @heauxvibez @christinabae @potatosackk

@raya-hunter01 @lilucey @aisharmi @neverlookatthisblog @dayaimonee @nayys-world

@kianaleani @digidestned @marasdeathnote @msbluehaz3 @hunnidmilly

@worldwidehoodrat @ariiaeltheedonn @wanderingreigns @sisinever @jaza23

@wrestlingbaby @amandairene88 @romanreignsbae @li-da-savage @thickbihhwitdagapp

@cry1nwhileimcumm1n @usoholic @dontcomplicateit @rihanna0607

@jimingotthajams @happy-princes @nymphobabyyx @authenticallymisfitted @sageispunk

@bxrbie1 @octaviastargirl @skyesthebomb @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs @blueki16

@slutouttanowhere @zabwlky1999 @ayeeitsali @shamaness1171 @mainlyy-danae @mzv11

@misslackey @sayyestoheav3nn @dyttomori @dyttomori02 @kat3457

@zillasvilla @smile1318 @prettyfilmz @trippinsorrows @romansthrone

@wwecrazed2010 @xbriexx @ashyknee @katrinnnn @thedondada05 @luvrsluxe

@shes2real @aldrigmer444 @rose-bliss @jxtina-86 @that-one-anxious-mango @heartz4chucky

@fearlesschimera @kuromiish @vampygomez @tshepisho @magnificentbouquetmusic @4milly

@disc0fairy @prettybitxhnica @mellybandzz @blveeeeeee @taytropicana @planetch1ld @mayasopinions @tribalchief2112

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @n-o-v-a-caine @sexyblacksimper @paigereeder @callmekayd

@partypoison00 @originalgeezyy @muzaqueendom @naturally-nikkilynn @rollinssection @lovestoreadfiction

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silkscream · 3 years ago

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i was also going to ask for a moodboard for me but then realized idek where to start describing myself 💀

🌙 unpopular horror movie opinion(s)? it can be any genre u want, i love hearing them

omg this just made me remember a whole rant i wrote down once...

(RAPE/GORE CW)

most horror movies that are very mainstream usually utilize violence against women as a scare tactic in a way that's so mf unnecessary. it's like how porn is much too violent; we absolutely do NOT need women being sawed in half for the sake of plot. i made this short film my senior year of college abt two teenage girls who kill a boy (for fun kind of) but some man in my class + my prof "complimented" me by comparing my work to these 70s exploitation rape-revenge horror movies and it made me sooo mad LMFAO.

tldr; the best horror is psychological with body horror coming in as a close second. and by body horror i usually mean unhinged women (shit like titane and raw) and gore that focuses on viscerality and feeling instead of hacking people into pieces. i feel like that kind of violence is so nihilistic.

ALSO ASH ilysm so i'm making u a mb anyway based purely on my perceived vibes idc

#subspider #sry i got rambly i'm very passionate abt horror ghfkjgjhdf #asks

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chiluc · 4 years ago

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if no one else sent u diluc for the character ask game yet then.. Him... but if they have u could also do childe bc i am genuinely curious abt that one ngl

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK BLOOK ILY <3

since i havent done either of them i will do both :) bc these silly little anime men live in my head rent free!

first impression - PLEASE THIS IS SO FUNNY. I DESPISED DILUC WHEN HE FIRST APPEARED I SAW HIM AND THOUGHT HE WAS A CISHET </3 can you believe. he was my first 5* character that i pulled and i was SO upset bc out of all the characters i couldve gotten it HAD to be the one and only character that i hated.

from the moment i saw childe i just knew he was an unhinged bitch boy <3 and i loved that for him <3 not much has changed (ngl i am a HUGE sucker for that archetype <3 character who puts on a nice and friendly facade but actually kills people for fun my beloved 🥰)

impression now - diluc my beloved 🥰❤️💕 would literally die for him and i actually cried when i pulled him on my alt account he means so much to me. baby you 🥰 literally my sole source of serotonin thank you diluc mwah mwah

childe is still an unhinged bitch boy what can i say <3 i hate him 🥰

sort of unrelated but childe and diluc have switched places in my team as main dps and sub dps bc diluc sets everything on fire and ends up with like 25% of his hp left when im done killing things so 😔✌️

favorite moment - literally every moment 🥰 love you so muchh diluc 🥰 okay okay slight spoilers for diluc story quest but when he is sassy toward huffman 🥰 so true king please speak more 🥰

spoilers for the main story quest but i LOVE when childe finally drops his facade and becomes uninhibitedly chaotic and then IMMEDIATELY after losing the fight with the traveler hes just like haha my bad bestie! no hard feelings <3 and then unleashes the fucking god of the ocean and peaces out <3 king behavior!

idea for a story - oh do not get me started. i literally have lost track of how many aus i have for Them it's actually so bad. i think my favorite au is where childe betrays the fatui and takes the gnoses for himself and becomes the archon of all the elements :) and diluc serves as his diplomat bc i said so 💅 they get married and have a huge fancy wedding and diluc becomes the pyro archon and yes i am mentally ill <3 do not talk to me about this or else i will never shut up this is a promise

unpopular opinion - i do not like zhongli/tartaglia as a ship. idk it's like the power imbalance i think but something about it rubs me the wrong way. also i cannot see zhongli as anything but an aroace grandpa i am sorry but chili shippers are incorrect (/j)! like i do not care if you ship them but it is not for me! i stay as far away from the genshin fandom as possible while still running a genshin blog so idek what other opinions are unpopular but yeah. thats the big one

favorite relationship - hopefully you all already know this but chiluc (childe/diluc) lives in my mind remt free and in fact i am the one paying rent bc they force me to draw them every fucking day of my life and they are canonically married i do not make the rules they told me this themselves. they are in love.

besides the obvious answer though i also am OBSESSED with xiao/diluc as friends and childe/kaeya as fwbs do not ask how any of this came to be because i do not know! my brain is eroded <3

favorite headcanon - diluc is autistic and childe is adhd this is true and correct and i will die on this hill. another headcanon i have based on dilucs specialty dish (pile em up) is that diluc holds the record for pile em up and to this day has not been defeated <3

a headcanon i have for childe is that hes really good at styling long hair because he takes care of his younger siblings a lot and yes this is for the purposes of furthering the chiluc agenda but it just makes cents luv!!! 💅

ask game here!

#TJANK YOU FOR ENABLING MY BRAINROT BLOOK 💕❤️#is the mental illness rampantly present enough do you think? or need i say more <3 #SERIOUSLY LOVED ANSWERING THESE I AM SO SORRY FOR MY BRAIN <3 NO I AM NOT <3 I AM

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unsettledink · 4 years ago

Text

A while back I made up a list of fics I had ideas for/wanted to write, mostly to try and drum up bids for Marvel Trumps Hate.

Since then I have, of course, had approximately five million new ideas and keeping track of them has gotten a bit out of hand, so i thought I’d try and put them all in one place that I could come back to and also update more easily. Also possibly some sort of… accountability thing? Like if I put them out into the universe I’m more likely to actually write them? Well I can dream.

There’s going to be a couple of these, divided up by pairings. Feel free to ignore, it’s mostly housekeeping!

(This one’s just for spiderio and polyspiderio ideas.)

(* for the new ideas)

Gotcha - Quentin’s willing to play out a long con to gain Peter’s trust and EDITH. He’s not going to catch feelings, don’t be ridiculous. These... these aren’t feelings! He can’t stand Peter! (Oh shit they’re SO MANY FEELINGS.)

Soulmates turn good plans into disasters – a 5+1 structured fic of different takes on how Peter and Quentin could discover that whoops, they’re soulmates

Just watched him die – something that might be a bit meandering about how Peter got from running into fire to save vulture to not even attempting to keep Beck from dying, and how the guilt eventually comes crashing down (and Beck’s probably not dead, will probably take advantage of said guilt)

ABO hooker fic – for Reasons(tm), omega!Peter is selling himself while hiding, taking risks he shouldn’t be. Ends up with alpha!Beck as a regular client and things progress into ~feelings~. Somehow slots into place after endgame and keeps a lot of the EDITH plot? Yeah I’m working out the details; it’s going to be a long one.

Yet another fun with illusions fic – Beck messes with Peter’s head on the trip, convincing him that the illusions he’s using are actually dreams where Peter’s subconscious is trying to convince him giving up EDITH is the right choice, via sex dreams featuring Tony and/or Beck. Gets in deep enough to mess things up in the bridge confrontation; not a happy ending.

Baby’s first d/s attempt – Peter getting curious and trying to find someone online, obviously turning out to be Beck. They Should Not but Do have all the kinky sex. At some point Tony discovers and does not approve, and then endgame. (There’s going to be some messing around with ages in this.) Beck is not snapped, Peter is, Tony is an asshole about it: gameplan Mysterio is still on– wait, what do you mean Peter’s alive again? I am still up in the air about happy vs sad ending here.

Continuation of Causality – that mind control drug was pretty fun for Beck, so why not use it again? Who cares if it’s screwing with Peter’s head and he’s literally losing his mind? Featuring slightly worrying sex, asshole Beck, and unsure if he’s turned on or miserable Peter.

Hanahaki & sequel – Why does Peter have such a thing for assholes that will absolutely not love him back? Why is Peter’s enhanced body a nightmare and not allowing him to be cured or die from this? Why does he keep hallucinating Beck alive and showing up at night to mock him and have sex? (I know why.)

Nicknames - (kind of cracky) Quentin was to busy going ‘oh no, he’s cute’ to catch Peter’s name. So he’ll just call him increasingly ridiculous nicknames and confuse the hell out of everyone.

Egg kink - what’s that, another ‘Peter DOES lay eggs’ fic? Yes! In which Quentin is not nearly as freaked out as Peter, and really enjoying winding Peter up. Right up to the point where they both realize this is hotter than they thought.

Groundhog Day collab with the_me09 - Quentin gets stuck in a loop and takes a long, long time to get out of it. Long enough for him to stop dying, stop killing Peter, stop winning, and start falling for that stupid kid.

Secondhand verse – following after this, things growing steadily worse, hotter, and more complex between Peter, Beck, and Tony. Bad decisions all around! Unexpected feelings all around! General unhappiness at having feelings that can be hurt all around! Probably a series of fics.

12:00 - follow up to 11:59, Tony and Peter finally getting it on and Beck being an ass in the background. Also the prequel that’s primarily Peter/Quentin, and possibly a sequel where Tony decides that maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, watching Beck fuck Peter - and Peter liked it, right? Everyone’s down for a totally uncomplicated round two, right? Or three, or four…

Aegis outside POV – ok I know no one wants this but me, lol. The events of Aegis, seen through William’s pov; Quentin in all his unhinged glory.

*Aegis, the happy ending – the version of Aegis where Quentin has one moment of trust and things go... not great, but no one dies at least. (I can’t seem to let go of this verse idek.)

*Test Subject continuation – so what IS in the rest of those vials? (a lot)

*Blackmail take two - Quentin’s noticed that Peter is into Tony, and he’s going to take advantage of that with some illusions. And then take advantage of Tony with the tape he made of ‘Tony’ fucking this clearly underage boy rough.

*Alley sex - instead of getting a drink, Quentin convincing Peter to have a quickie in some dark corner.

* Are those eggs?? - for Reasons, spider bite has done something to Peter that means he produces eggs. Quentin is being a dick and teasing him about it during sex, only whoops, that’s actually kind of hot? For both of them? What is happening? Guess they’ve got an egg kink.

(And feel free to talk to me about anything here, I love an excuse to ramble. Also, if something grabs your attention, have fun writing it - the more the merrier!)

#spiderio #mysteryspider #quenter #peter x quentin #idea squad #idea dump #maybe i'll write this someday

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mairzymarzipan · 6 years ago

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Night of the Full Moon Character Reviews: The Big Bosses(Minus Werewolf)

Hello again

I know I said I’d be talking about the Hunter, Old Mage, Fallen Priest and so on today, but I realized that those characters were actually more interesting in the context of other characters, so I put them off for later. I decided instead to talk about the main bosses of the game, as it so happens, are the closest people to Red Riding Hood. Because this game wants to be an ironicy soap opera/anime that way.

When I say Big Bosses, I mean that you always fight one of these characters at the end of the game. Unless you’re like me and you start all over at the end because you’re bored and tired of all four of them playwise.

Werewolf

Wait, no, never mind. This is another one of those characters who’s more interesting in the context of different, non-Red Riding Hood Characters. We’re saving this boi for later. But, you shouldn’t too surprised, if you read the title. Instead, I’ll just use this space to talk about a mechanic.

Throughout the game, you can get ‘courage’ and ‘reputation’ points by talking to characters. Very very generally speaking, you get courage points by doing brave things, and you get reputation points for doing nice things. You also can get courage points when a character talks shit about the werewolf, and reputation points when a character talks shit about the witch. So naturally, if you have more courage in the end, you get to fight the wolf, and if you have more reputation, you get to fight the witch. I guess what they’re going for is only a meanie would fight this doggo? And the witch is who any empathetic person would hate???

I feel like the latter is not the case, but more on that later.

Witch

“Only your Hope family can lift the dark magic curse. This is what the priest is most afraid of. That’s why monsters run wild on full moon nights. First they made your grandmother disappear and then they drew you into the forest...but they never anticipated that you would make it this far.”

By the way, you’re part of a prophecy. Only someone in your family can lift the curse on the forest. jsyk

Yeah so, as you see, the Witch’s description does not really tell us much about the witch herself. This description also pretty unique in that none of the other character descriptions go into the second person like this. The description also kind of hints that Red dies in the timeline where she fights the witch, so that’s depressing.

Nah, to figure out what the witch is about, you have to delve into the fragments around her.

So, you actually do encounter the witch earlier in the game. In the third or sometimes second chapter, she will recruit to find some magic apples she lost. She makes a mention about suspecting a queen of stealing them. The apples, I guess, are just lying around on the forest floor, and you bite into each of them bc you’re a dumb lkid. Each apple changes your stats by a few points and the witch does not at all seem upset that you hand her a bunch of bitten fruit at the end. In fact, she offers you the choice of two random buffs, so that’s fun.

You’re likely to hear about her way before that, though, depending on who you talk to. Generally anyone who’s been cursed feels like it’s the witch’s fault.

But if you choose to fight her(or you might not get a choice in the matter) she accuses you of stealing said apples. She’ll also talk to you throughout the battle until you defeat her- a trait that only the big bosses and a few of the newer ones have. Her lines...make her sound pretty unhinged. She’s speaks of disbelief that you would do such a horrible thing, and threatens you with with her magic, and talks about how misunderstood she is.

When you defeat her, she’s got a really interesting line, tho.

“No! I don’t want to fight you! I can’t!”

Huh.

Before I move on, let me talk about this other witch character.

Yep. That sure is the art style this game is going with.

So this is one of the shopkeepers. There are four different shops you can find along the way, only two of which have characters you can see in them. This character is known as the Witch Apothecary...but you can only see that on the outside of her store. Otherwise she’s just called “Witch”.

The thing is, along the way, characters will talk about the Witch and, they don’t specify that it’s not the one with the white hair. They just talk about The Witch like she’s the only witch that matters. So is this woman not really a witch? A witch wannabe? Nah, we already have one of those characters. Could it me that the shopkeepers don’t actually exist in the story of the game? That would bum me out, bc there’s this lesbian owl I want to be real.

But...I think they’re the same person using shapeshifting. Or if you want a really wild theory, maybe there are time travel hijinks and she’s the Magic Apprentice grown up. But I’m going to go ahead with the former.

Anyhoo. I like the witch. I’m gonna give her 🍎🍎🍎🍎 four apples

Priest

“They mistakenly thought that on the full moon night they could help the monsters quietly eliminate Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother. Once the Hope family was wiped out, the legend of lifting the curse on the Dark Forest would disappear completely. However, they didn’t expect they would have to go personally and pay such a high price to fight their enemy. When the priest fell, the cursed monsters reverted to their human forms and the Dark Forest was no longer covered by snow all year round, but the church’s blind greed still remains.”

Again, not much is said about the priest himself. The most interesting thing here is that he apparently is the keystone holding the curse together. Interesting, because he seems to be letting the witch do all the work for him. Usually in these stories, you have to kill the person who casts the spell to break the spell, not just their friend. Is it because he, himself, is a stone? That is to say, he turns into a statue sometimes.

Why the heck is he having her turn all his enemies into cartoon monsters instead of killing them, anyway? Don’t tell it’s to make the game family friendly, bc in one of these timelines a child kills another child.

Honestly, the priest/church just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. His big plan is selling everybody from his town as slaves. Gross. And the way he accomplishes this is by...making it snow all the time, and turning people into vampires and fire bears? What?

He is. A delight to fight. I’m being sarcastic. He’s a religious edgelord who likes to go on about how humans are sinners and everyone deserves to be punished. Also she cheats by turning into stone. Eh.

It feels like someone just spun a wheel for of evil traits and just stuck them together haphazardly. His evil plan is...human trafficking! His personality is...self righteous! His means is...tf! His super power is...turning into a statue!

He’s the biggest of bads but also not that thought out. He’s super important to the over-arching plot and yet I have no idea why this guy does what he does. I’m gonna give him 🗽🗽 two statues.

Mystery Men

idek why this person is called “Mystery Men”. I’m guessing it’s supposed to be mystery man? Or mysterious person or something? I know I haven’t talked about the art much but, I do appreciate how much their face looks like a dog snout and her hood looks like dog ears. It’s a neat touch.

This description was actually changed. The new text is longer and more awkwardly worded. I don’t like it! And I don’t get why it happened.

But, yeah. The very last enemy of the game- who you can only reach by playing through at least four times and defeating all three others- is your Grandmother! Le gasp!

So what exactly went wrong with her? Oh, nothing, she just has a big wolf growing out of her back(told you the concept was backed up by canon)

Is this her daemon or patronus or something? I have no idea. I’ve been calling her a werewolf sometimes, tho, bc she’s better at being a werewolf than the titular werewolf. Which is to say she can revive instead of just healing. Her buffs and deck change throughout the fight. She’s a long battle, fun, except for her ear piercing voice. She sounds a bit possessed.

I’ll give her 👁️👁️👁️ three big eyes. She’s a fun battle, but I always mute it. Also not real big on how the text got changed for the worse. But she does add some good details to the story.

In Conclusion...

Grandma’s text tells us a few things.

1. Not only is the Hope family connected to this prophecy, but family members actually have the power to control the curse. That leads me to believe that the person who got the curse started was a Hope themself.

2. The church came along long after the curse was in full swing. So the priest is not responsible for it. Whether he’s a Hope himself is not relevant.

We also know these things:

1. The witch is still the one casting all the tf spells, which is part of the curse.

2. There are two timelines were Red has a natural gift for magic

3. In the Little Witch timeline, the Witch is teaching Red magic. On top of that she’s v patient, which is surprising, for some reason.

4. The Witch seems a little out of touch with reality. She sends you to find apples, and then yells at you for stealing them. Almost like she thinks you’re another person.

5. The witch verbally expresses her desire not to fight you when she realizes who you are.

I have to conclude that the Witch is a Hope. A Hope who’s close enough to have a fondness for Little Red Riding Hood, and is invested in her well being/education. And yanno, is turns her enemies into pig people because she can.

She helps you on your quest by giving you one of her own. But earlier on, she takes on the form of the other witch offer you potions and the like. She even gives you the first one in each chapter for free.

“My potions can change your appearance!”

Of course she can’t get too close to you. She can’t reveal that she’s helping you. Hence putting on a new face when she’s a ‘good’ witch. One wonders if she’s trying to hide her identity from you, or the people she’s allied with.

Hey can we look at her description again?

Red doesn’t get addressed in the second person in any of the other descriptions. There is a character who talks about his life in the first person, and we’ll get to him. But this is odd to me.

What if Red isn’t being addressed here? What if it’s someone else? What if it’s the Witch?

What if the Witch was captured and ensnared in the priest’s plot? What if he messed with her memory? So then who is she? Red’s sister? It seems like she’s been working with the church a lot longer than Grandma’s been missing. Also Grandma went into the woods on her own accord. You could say that the grief the church caused her *made* her go out, but it seems weak.

So maybe a Hope in another generation, who lost her grandmother to- either the church or monsters? Was it this other Grandmother who *started* the curse?

Dude, what if she’s your Mom?

What if instead of killing her the priest did...something...scared her enough to get her to work for him. And messed with her memory so she couldn’t conceive a way out? And sort of had her transfer the power of the curse to him so that people had to kill him to break it?

What if he had the Church Doctor scoop her brain out and put it in another lady’s head? Who knows.

I’m not certain about the witch being your mom. I think I would like that to be the case because it’s fun, but I’m not quite convinced yet. I AM certain, tho, that the Witch is a Hope, and she cares about you. She’s not just this cackling meanie turning people into flowers. She’s...complicated. And she needs help just as much as all the trapped monsters.

#mairzy posts #night of the full moon #notfm #the werewolf #the witch #the priest #the mystery men #headcanons #character reviews

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