#TW [murder]

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: you become the first of many tragic deaths...

tw: murder, graphic descriptions of injuries, suicide, descriptions of a corpse, spoilers for all of the game basically

a/n: LAST PART! gosh I had such an evil smile writing the beginning of this. sorry that the end is literally just the game, I wasn't sure how to make commentary on it that the game doesn't do beautifully already :(

wc: 2.9k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

no

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

This couldn’t be real.

“They came at me like they went mad.”

You couldn’t be gone, you wouldn’t leave him like that.

“I had no choice!”

Daisuke felt like he was going to puke, your unfocused eyes staring at the ceiling, lips slightly parted and the darkening skin around your neck. 

“It was either me or them.” 

Daisuke felt his hands shake. He couldn’t accept this, there was no way you were dead. You would get up any second and say this was a prank. Please. He doesn’t think he can handle this. You had been the only one keeping him sane, the only one he found comfort in, the only one to stand up for him if he felt uncomfortable doing something. You both were supposed to get off this rock together. You were supposed to meet his parents and have dinner and…and…and

Daisuke felt himself let out a sob, rushing towards your body and falling to his knees. Shaky hands reached out towards your face. You felt cold. You weren’t supposed to be this cold. You needed a blanket, or…or something. His hand went from caressing your cheek to holding your hand, bringing it up to his face. Your knuckles were bloody, but Daisuke didn’t care, he just wished you could cup his cheek again, reassure him that everything would be okay and you would always be there for him. 

Swansea scoffed at Jimmy, glaring daggers at the man, “Right, like they were much of a threat.”

“You think I’d lie about this?” Jimmy seethed. “You think I enjoyed doing that?”

Anya felt like herself plunging even farther down her spiral of madness. Why the hell did she tell you? Every time she tries to speak up, to get comfort, to find help for what’s happened to her she finds another tragedy left in her wake. First it was the crash and Curly, now you’re dead…who else will get hurt because of her? She couldn’t even look at your body or face Daisuke. Your cloudy eyes seemed to be taunting her, blaming her, and Daisuke’s sobs were like a stab to the heart. 

“Maybe you did,” Swansea glowered, bumping harshly into Jimmy’s shoulder as he walked past towards Daisuke. “C’mon kid, you shouldn’t see ‘em like this.”

“N-no!” Daisuke protested, trying to free himself from Swansea’s grip on his shoulder, clinging onto you desperately. “I-I can’t leave them. I just can’t…”

…

Your death made the tension on the ship worse. It caused the crew to be more distrustful of Jimmy, something he hated. Who did they think they were to judge him? You were like a wild animal, your assault had no end in sight? Was he supposed to let you beat him to a pulp? It’s not like there were enough medical supplies for that, and for all he knew you weren’t going to stop. 

Daisuke’s cheerful demeanor had darkened, but he still tried to keep a smile on his face, even if it was wobbly and didn’t reach his eyes. He would try to joke, to say something silly to lighten the atmosphere, but it started to come out forced, and he couldn’t help but imagine how’d you react. Would you laugh? Smile? Roll your eyes and shake your head? And just like that he’d feel his mood drop all over again. 

It had been a month since your death and he still couldn’t move on. He had got to know you over eight months, and for five of them you both were dating. Gosh, you really made the trip go by so quickly (even though it felt like you had been in space forever). And after the crash, you made it just a bit more bearable to be sitting like a waiting duck in the middle of nowhere. But now you’re gone, and the crash happened five months ago, and he could feel the despair start to consume him slowly but surely. 

Anya had kept to herself more than usual as well, tending to Curly as best she could. They ran out of clean bandages ages ago, so she couldn’t tend to his wounds as well. They had no more disinfectant, so the best she could do was try and keep him as comfortable as possible. Just focus on doing her job so she couldn’t think too much, so she wouldn’t think of how Curly's silent stare reminded her of your blank gaze. Try to keep her cries to herself when she was alone in the medical bay with Curly. 

Swansea was vehemently trying to protect the last working cryopod. He thought you and Daisuke were the most worthy of it, but fell under the dilemma of who it would go to between you both. It was clear neither of you would leave the other, and Swansea knew better than most what it was like to be completely infatuated with someone. When you believe you’d do anything for them, that you’d rather die than see them hurt. Seems like Jimmy solved that little problem for him. Swansea couldn’t help but internally seethe when he saw your body. If you were angry enough to throw a punch, then whoever it was you were punching deserved it, ‘cus you were one of the most level headed ones of them here. 

Jimmy? Oh, he was spirling further and further. The judgemental looks Swansea sent his way, or how Daisuke seemed to avoid him like the plague…he felt his control slipping, and he needed a way to feel in power again. To feel like he was in charge. So he took it out on Anya, the first person he’d go to when he needed to be in control. Whispering harsh words without an ounce of guilt, venom seeping past his lips and poisoning those around him.

Anya couldn’t take it anymore, the entire situation was too much. Jimmy terrified her, and the guilt was eating her from the inside out. She couldn’t handle it, rushing to the medical bay and locking the door. Curly’s stare pierced through her as Daisuke called out to her, asking if she was stuck. Anya didn’t have the heart to tell Daisuke how terrified she was, how the medical bay was her only safe place. So she told him she couldn’t leave, hoping everyone would leave her alone.

She was scared. Scared of what Jimmy would do in response to her pregnancy, her refusal to follow what he wanted. He had proven her fears right. That he was willing to kill. She thought hiding the gun or the fact that Swansea kept the axe would be enough protection, but he had killed you with his bare hands…

But sweet, sweet Daisuke was worried for Anya. Asking Jimmy for help, not wanting to see another crew member dead. Especially not Anya, you cared for her so much, he couldn’t imagine the despair you’d go through if she were to pass. 

“Anya!” Daisuke called through the thick metal door. “I brought Jimmy! We’re here to rescue you! Don’t worry! Don’t panic!” It was meant to be reassuring, but it seems like Daisuke was trying to comfort himself as well. 

“Hey,” Jimmy called out nonchalantly. “Heard the lock’s broken.”

Anya felt her heart drop, hands shaky as she refused to respond. 

“Hey. Anya!” Jimmy spoke louder, feeling irritated now. “Can you hear me?”

“...yeah, I can hear you, Jimmy,” Anya replied. Looking at the last of the paracetamol and grabbing it, sitting down beside Curly’s cot. 

“There rest of our medicine stash is in there too. Damn, this could be bad,” Jimmy grumbled, clearly not caring about Anya’s safety. “Did you really put your back into it?” “Any wrenches laying around?” Daisuke asked, the pit in his stomach only growing. “How heavy is the med kit?!”

With no response, Daisuke tried jiggling the handle again, his efforts being fruitless. 

“...Anya,” Jimmy called out coldly. “Is the door really stuck?”

“...” 

The silence caused bile rise in Daisuke’s throat. No, no no no

“No,” Anya replied strongly. 

No no no no. Not again. Daisuke tried more desperately to jiggle the handle. 

“H-huh?” Daisuke called out, trying to see any way that this wasn’t as bad as it looked. “What do you mean?!”

“Look, we’re all stressed,” Jimmy scolded, brushing off her emotions. “But you can’t go breaking down at every little hardship. Open the damn door.”

“...you were right,” Anya spoke out, hands failing to open the cap a few times. “You were right all along. I should have done this from the beginning. I always believed that our worst moments didn’t define us. Didn’t make us beyond repair.”

A strange sense of calm fell over the practicing nurse as the safety lid finally opened. It was going to be over, finally. 

“You think I wanted this either?” She laughed humorlessly, a grim smile on her lips. “Make no mistake, this isn’t my worst moment. Far from it. It’s the best one I’ll ever make.” 

“Open the door,” Jimmy ordered, clenching his fists tightly. Daisuke placed his hand on the door, that dreadful sense of hopelessness tearing his heart apart. This wasn’t happening, no way. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Were her last words before she downed the rest of the pain medication. 

“Anya?!” Daisuke called out, banging on the door. “What does that mean?!”

…

This wasn’t right. Daisuke wearily eyed the vent that held sparking cables. 

“Swansea said it’s not safe,” Daisuke tried to argue against Jimmy’s demands to enter. “I know he forgot to tell us about the pod, but he knows, like, everything about this kind of stuff. Maybe we should just wait for him to wake back up…”

“You said you could handle it,” Jimmy glared. Everything was slipping out of his control, first you, then Anya, then Swansea…he’d be damned if he let Daisuke rebel too. “Swansea taught you well, right? Time to prove it. He’ll be impressed when he wakes up. Proud. He’ll understand why we had to do this, then he can explain himself.”

“You think so?” Daisuke asks, alarm bells ringing. Glancing back at the vent, Daisuke couldn’t help but think about how you’d react. Probably fight against this, yell about how dangerous this was and if Jimmy wanted someone to crawl through that hazard then he should do it himself…but you weren’t here anymore, and Swansea was passed out from a drink he made with Jimmy…and Anya…

“Daisuke,” Jimmy spoke sternly. “Everyone’s counting on you…Captain’s orders.”

And in that moment, it really felt like this all fell onto his shoulders. Jimmy’s arguments made sense…if he could save Anya and Curly, maybe he could make both you and Swansea proud.

“Y-yeah,” Daisuke nodded, trying to hype himself up. “I got this!”

“Okay…” He made his first step towards the vent. “H-here we go…”

Grabbing the ladder, he climbed his way into the vent. A sense of claustrophobia hit him right away, trying to avoid any curling livewire or sharp metal, but it was clear this was the wrong choice. Daisuke let out a sharp gasp, feeling his body get zapped by an unseen electrical current, letting out a groan when he felt something cut his skin. He couldn’t stop now though, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it stung, how he started to feel sluggish. No, he pushed through, he needed to get to Anya, needed to make sure everything was okay. Ignoring the way tears pricked at his eyes, or how it took all his strength and energy to pull himself up into the medical bay, he needed to keep…

“Anya…?” Daisuke gasped out in horror, the pain both physical and emotional becoming too much. “...what d-did you do?”

…

Daisuke couldn’t stop squirming, he could still feel the stings of electricity, like his muscles had become a livewire themselves. The burns and cuts wouldn’t stop bleeding, and Daisuke felt worthless. This was all for nothing, and the two adults were arguing over him. 

“Don’t do anything,” Jimmy huffed, not sure if he was talking to Swansea or Daisuke. “Stop, stop, stop. I can fix this!”

Maybe it won’t all be bad…maybe you’re waiting for him. He just hopes his mom won’t blame herself, that his parents will be able to continue to live a happy life…

“Why do you keep fuckin’ saying that?” Swansea shouted. “Are you hearing yourself?!”

“I-I’m s-sorry…” Daisuke muttered out. This is all his fault, he should’ve never entered that stupid vent. It was too late for Anya anyways, and now Swansea was angry…he doesn’t even wanna think about how you’d react…

“We still have disinfectant, right?” Swansea asked, trying to think of a way to keep Daisuke alive. “The one from the extra medical stash? Get it! Now!”

Jimmy avoided Swansea’s gaze, looking down to a struggling Daisuke, grinding his teeth, “The cocktail, we…you…”

“The cocktail?!” Swansea roared, rightfully pissed. “What are you blabbering about?”

“That was your fault!” Jimmy deflected, pointing at the older man. “You would never have-”

“I-I had no choice.”

“You…” Swansea sneered, banging his fist against the wall. “Useless! You goddamn fucking idiot! There has to be something else!”

Daisuke wasn’t sure how long they left him alone, but he found himself coming to terms with his fate, feeling guilty. He had always been a useless mess up, a last minute intern who didn’t even want to be here. It seems like even his final moments were because he fucked up. 

“I’m so…rry,” Daisuke struggled to speak as Jimmy crouched next to him. “I messed…up…mgh.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle the way his muscles continued to tense and relax, like he was being continuously electrocuted. He could feel his wounds pulse with every contraction, blood trickling out like a steady stream. 

“Don’t try to talk,” Jimmy ordered, uncapping the bottle of mouthwash, pouring it on his wounds. 

…

“...the bleeding won’t stop,” Jimmy mumbled. “Just try to stay still, Daisuke. I-I need a second to think. We can fix this.”

“Hey, kid?” Swansea called out softly. “You hear me?” Daisuke could only make a strangled groan in response, everything felt like it was on fire and he could feel his body cry out for sleep, but the pain wouldn’t let him rest. Even breathing became a task he had to focus on.

“Daisuke?” Swansea called out again, feeling his heart break further at the sight as Daisuke jolted up in pain. “Hey!” Jimmy shouted, watching in horror as Swansea picked up the axe. “Stop, stop, stop! Don’t move!”

“It’s alright Daisuke,” Swansea comforted his young intern. “Calm down. This line of work…you could have never become like miserable ol’ Swansea. What a tragedy. Decades of hauling ass for Pony Express, big mighty bruiser with all his shiny tools. This is where it got me. The good life, huh?”

“I thought you were dumber than a can of paint, always just chewing my ear off about nothing,” Swansea continued. “Useless ray of goddamn sunshine. Not an ace student, workhorse or force of ambition. Just a damn good kid trying his best. You coulda taught an old fool like me a lot.”

“...”

“Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

…

no.

no no no no no no

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Everything was fine! He had it all under control! Swansea had gone crazy, that’s why he killed Daisuke, that’s why Jimmy was forced to tie him up before he was another victim to the crazy madman. This wasn’t his fault. No one was letting him fix a goddamn thing! This was all because everyone stepped out of line. First you attacked him, then Anya decided to be selfish, then Swansea murdered Daisuke, now he is being attacked again. None of this was his fault, not a goddamn thing.

“I have something to say,” Swansea spoke up calmly, not batting an eye as Jimmy stood before him holding the gun. “So shut the fuck up and listen.”

But Jimmy wasn’t having it. No. He couldn’t listen, because if he listened, then he’d have to take responsibility. He’d have to admit that he failed, that they died because of his selfish actions. Clutching the gun just a bit tighter, Jimmy spoke resolutely.

“Swansea…I’m going to fix everything. We’re going to make it.”

“Fuck you.”

…

This would all be over now. It’ll all be fixed. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Curly’s stare burned through him as he carried his former Captain. This was the only way now, the only thing he could do to make this better. Swansea was right, a captain goes down with his ship, so that left only one person to take the cryopod. 

“It’s okay, Curly,” Jimmy consoled through the glass panel. “You’re going to be okay. You always had my back. I ended up hurting you even though I was trying to save us. But now you’ll survive. It’s like you said, together we can fix anything. I’m just proud I got to be your friend and co-pilot, Captain.”

“No one can hurt you now. We fixed it.”

“I…fixed it…”

[propertyofwhitney67]

It’s halloweeeeeenie season!!

LIs as serial killers. What’s their preferred method of murder? Torture or no? Preferred weapon? Mask or no and, if so, what kind? Preference for Stealthy and precise or messy and brutal kills? Do they like to make a show out of their existence to the town by leaving traces of their crimes around, or do they keep hidden?

Bonus: reactions to a detective!PC on the case. Ex. Kidnap or no? Mess with or no? Fear/worry about or no?

Fuck! I forgot about this one

Whitney does it for fun and doesn't disguise himself, he uses his looks/charms to lead you away. He probably tortures and weapons vary with his mood. He likes it to be messy and brutal. He loves to leave the bodies in places people can find them.

Will mess with you and eventually kidnap you. He's not all that worried

Kylar just can't help himself and is a sneaky fuck who disguises himself. He doesn't torture but he is very brutal, lots of blood and gore. He uses his favorite knife and only that knife. Kylar tries his best to stay hidden but there are slip ups.

He doesn't mess with you and will kidnap you almost immediately. He's worried

Robin gets urges sometimes and has to kill. He disguises himself and probably drugs you or waits till you're along. He doesn't torture, he's mostly quick with it. That doesn't mean he doesn't take his time to savor it though. He usually strangles and doesn't leave the body out in the open, mostly in alleys or slightly hidden.

He doesn't mess with you and it takes him a little while to take you

P!Sydney needs to do this and goes the sacrifice route. He leads you away and is very precise, he drugs you so you don't fight back. It's a simple cut to the throat. He doesn't disguise himself, doesn't torture, and uses a sacrificial dagger. He keeps things hidden out god knows where in the woods.

Not worried and will take his time before taking you, you will be his final sacrifice

C!Sydney does it for fun really. He doesn't disguise himself and uses a variety of weapons, depends on how he wants the scene to look. He likes to make a big show out of it, the scene is always perfectly staged.

He loves to play with you and waits a while to take you. He's not worried

Alex goes to bars and offers people jobs then he brings them back to the farm where he kills them. He tortures from a day to a week, it depends on how he's feeling. He goes the dispose of them in the pig pen route.

He's a bit worried and keeps an eyes on the case. He will kidnap you if you get too close.

Avery uses his "charms" and looks to lull you into a false sense of security, then take you back to his place where he tortures you. He kills you after a few days, probably with a gun but I'm not sure. He keeps things hidden and easily gets rid of your body.

Has too much of an ego to be worried, he will kidnap you after a little bit and will torture you

Eden only kills people that wander off or out too far in the woods, it's a weird territorial thing but also a preying thing. Sometimes he plays with them, letting them go then chasing them back down. It depends on his mood if he'll torture or not. He of course uses his shot gun when he kills. He's messy and keeps things well hidden.

He's not worried, hell he doesn't even know till he goes out for supplies. He only takes you if you come looking for him in the woods.

[hussyknee]

[ed-recoverry]

Pauly Likens Jr., a 14-year-old transgender girl, was recently found murdered.

She was stabbed. Her body was found dismembered in a river; a man was recently arrested for her death. Her cause of death was trauma to her head.

She was supposed to be celebrating her 15th birthday this Saturday.

Her family has started a gofundme to cover her funeral.

Trans lives matter.

Trans kids deserve to live.

Keep trans kids safe.

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason: Okay, so get this.

Jason: You make ten meals, you're not a cook.

Jason: You make twenty paintings, you're not an artist.

Jason: But you kill ONE PERSON—

[rrcenic]

nex benedict was a native american non binary kid who was beaten to death in the girls bathroom at their school in oklahoma. the school forced them to use the girls room and they still got fucking killed.

their school didnt even call 911 when they were dizzy and bruised and bleeding after being assaulted by three older girls and having their head slammed on the tile floor. they were suspended for two weeks. they died from the head injuries 24 hours later.

NEX WAS SIXTEEN. SIXTEEN. THEY LIKED MINECRAFT AND ARK SURVIVAL EVOLVED AND THEIR CAT ZEUS.

THEY WERE A CHILD.

THEY WERE TOLD TO COMPLY TO THE RULES ABOUT BATHROOMS AND THEY DID AND THEY WERE STILL BEATEN TO DEATH. BECAUSE IT HAS NEVER BEEN ABOUT BATHROOMS AND BIOLOGICAL SEX. IT IS ABOUT SILENCING AND ENDING US.

trans kids are not safe anywhere. terfs and transphobic influencers teach children to hate their peers and people DIE. i hope terfs know that they are the reason people die. nex's blood, and the blood of thousands of trans kids who have been killed, abused, and ended their own lives, are on your hands.

im disgusted and depressed and scared

important additions!!

@donuteater13 added this link to a source

@wonderthestars compiled this info:

as @minecraft666 said, the staff needs to be held accountable for not calling an ambulance and allowing the transphobia to exist

https://ohs.owassops.org/apps/staff/

[jadelucille]

I always come back😈😈

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: after comforting Daisuke a bit, you help Anya with Curly's medication. she tells you about the abuse she's faced on the ship, and you find yourself confronting her abuser.

tw: implications of rape, implications of abuse, graphic depictions of violence, death, murder, pure angst, dead dove: do not eat.

a/n: would you believe me if I said this series was just meant to be a fluffy one/two shot?

wc: 1.5k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

You could only watch on in disappointment. Daisuke laid on the grated ground, arm thrown over  his face and mouthwash in the other. Walking over, you crouched next to his form, feeling sympathy for his situation. It’s been two months since the cargo hold was opened, and you were honestly proud at how resilient Daisuke had been against his mentor’s persistent badgering to get him to join him for a drink. 

With a short sigh, you softly muttered, “You look like shit.”

“You were right,” Daisuke groaned. “How does Swansea do it? I feel like my stomach is going to explode.”

“An alcoholic doesn’t drink to feel good,” You murmured, gently brushing some of his hair out of his face. “They do it to escape from their problems, but it just adds more to the pile.”

“How’re you so smart?” Daisuke grumbled, uncovering his eyes and tilting his head to try and look at you. “Aren’t we around the same age?”

Chuckling softly you shook your head in amusement, “Yeah, we are around the same age. I just have more experience in this area.”

“You were an alcoholic?” Daisuke exclaimed, sitting up quickly only to clutch his stomach with a groan. 

You snorted at his reaction, “No, but I have first hand experience with what it does to a person.”

“Oh,” Daisuke laid back down, trying to even his breathing to quell the nausea. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” You sighed, fully taking a seat next to him and sitting cross legged.

“But you were so adamant on me not drinking this stuff, and I did it anyway,” Tears pricked at his eyes, clearly a bit tipsy. “Is that why you flinch when someone gets angry?” 

Your eyes widened at his question, gaze averting from his figure, you ignored it, changing the topic, “I understand why you did it, it’s hard to say no to an authority figure, and you were probably curious too. It happens, as long as you don’t make it a habit it’s fine.”

“I’m never looking at mouthwash ever again,” Daisuke grumbled. 

…

You nearly messed up your task, flinching back at Curly’s muffled groans of pain. It had been four months since the crash all together, and this was your first time administering the Captain his pain meds. You didn’t realize how terrible it was, and you couldn’t imagine the pain he was feeling. But you stayed strong, holding his jaw closed so he wouldn’t spit the pills back up. Once you heard him swallow, you pulled your hands back, feeling guilty as he stared at you. No wonder Anya had resorted to asking either you or Jimmy to administer them instead, you weren’t sure how she had managed to do this for so long without breaking-

It’s like you willed it to fruition, the sound of sniffles coming from behind you. Turning around, you watched in abject horror as Anya slid down to the ground, curling in a ball, arms around her legs and head tucked in her knees. The image felt wrong. This was Anya, strong willed, enthusiastic, competitive, encouraging and kind…is this how Daisuke felt when watching Swansea turn into a shell of his former self?

“It’s all my fault,” Anya sobbed, a hand going up to clutch at her hair. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You frowned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Taking a seat next to her you slowly raised a hand and rubbed her back, “What are you talking about?” She tensed under your touch, both hands now pulling at her hair, and she shook her head. 

“I’m sorry,” You murmured, pulling your hand back. “You don’t have to explain-”

“I’m pregnant,” Anya whispers, brown eyes peeking over her knees to look at you, eyes red and watery. “It’s Jimmy’s. I told Curly, but nothing happened, so then I told Jimmy and…and th-that was r-right before the crash…” You felt your stomach drop, eyes widening at the implication. 

“W-was it too much for Curly to handle?” Anya asked, voice wavering as tears continued to stream down her eyes. “Is that why he crashed the ship? If o-only there were locks on the doors…if only I kept it to myself…”

“Wait what?” You paused, voice turning icy cold. You took in a deep breath, trying to quench the unbridled anger that suddenly flooded through you, this wasn’t the time or place to be angry, Anya needed comfort. “Anya, none of this is your fault. You had every right to seek help from the captain. If anything, this is Jimmy’s fault, why the hell would he-” You cut yourself off before you could rant, closing your eyes and continuing in a softer tone. “The company failed you, failed us. None of this falls on your shoulders.”

Anya leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder, gaze rising to Curly who could only watch on in silence, allowing herself to find just a moment of respite. Once again, you reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm in a placating manner. This time she relaxed in your hold, tears falling on your shoulder. You couldn’t just ignore this, couldn’t ignore the fact that Jimmy had abused not just your mentor, but friend. Who the hell did he think he was, walking around pretending to be captain knowing he did horrendous actions? Probably justified it like the asshole he was. God, you weren’t gonna let him get away that fucking easily. If Curly didn’t have the balls to help, you sure as hell were.

…

“The hell’s your problem?” Jimmy sneered at you. “You’ve become a real fuckin’ bitch, being nothing but a thorn in my side. You get off on making everyone suffer?”

“Hahaha!” You laughed maniacally, replying with a mocking grin. “That’s real fucking funny coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Jimmy glared, that icy heat behind his eyes intensifying, but you couldn’t find it in you to cower anymore, feeling nothing but absolute fury in his presence. 

“I think you know,” You growled, face morphing into a scowl. “I should beat the shit out of you for what you did.”

Jimmy’s face darkened, but didn’t make any sign to fight against your claim. That made you angrier, he knew. He knew what he did was wrong, he just didn’t care. You felt like you were vibrating, the absolute fury rushing through your veins.

“I won’t tolerate insubordination,” He glowered. “I’m the captain whether you like it or not-”

CRACK

A rush of adrenaline flowed through you, heart pumping faster. Jimmy held his nose, pulling his hand away to find blood dripping down. Your hands were shaking, and without thinking, you threw another punch, landing right on his eye, causing him to curse out. 

“You absolute, utter piece of shit,” You swore, kicking him as hard as you could where it really hurts. You watched on in satisfaction as the middle aged man fell onto his knees, eyes squeezed shut in pain. “You know what, that’s actually insulting shit, at least shit has a use.” 

You were about to send one more kick to his side for good measure, really wanting him to feel just an ounce of the pain he put Anya through, but you were thrown off balance when he grabbed your leg mid lift. He pulled your leg towards him, causing you to wobble and fall backwards onto your back. You barely registered the pain, adrenaline diluting your senses. You barely had any time to think before Jimmy was straddling you, hands around your throat squeezing as hard as he could. 

Eyes widening, you felt yourself panic, body automatically trying to suck in a breath but failing. You tried to wiggle, to kick your legs and knock him off of you, but he was stronger, watching you struggle with an evil glint in his dark eyes. You began to claw at him instead, trying to pull his hands away, to try to claw at any weak spot you could find. Your lungs were burning, tears falling down your eyes at the dull pain in your throat. You tried to reach his eyes, maybe poke one out to get his grip to loosen, but your hands were shaking and it felt like you were holding up a ton of bricks. 

As you lay there, oxygen depleting from your system, you humorlessly realized you were going to die to this monster. You could barely make out Jimmy anymore, the world spinning too fast and turning dark at the same time, body going limp. Did this really have to be your last view before passing on? You felt guilty as well, you were leaving Anya and Daisuke behind, you wish you weren’t so selfish. Ashamed that you prioritized your anger and lashed out instead of going about the situation rationally. You just hoped they didn’t blame themselves, that by some miracle they could be saved.

And just like that, your consciousness vanishes, leaving behind your body that lays limp under the hands of an abuser.

[j0celynh0rr0r]

Unbothered

[intheholler]

the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + -- mature short content !

Content Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, stalking, manipulation, and violent fantasies. It delves into the unhealthy and dangerous mindset of a stalker obsessed with you. Reader discretion is advised.

WORD COUNT: 3.6K

INCLUDES: Stalking, blood kink, obsessive behavior, cunnilingus, fingering, fem reader, choking, mentions of cheating, p in v sex in public, murder, death, he's not a good person, dom yandere?, degradation?, he can be a bit of a gaslighter, gore, and more.

*This is the third fic to this little mini series. Check out the first part, and the second part for a better understanding! He is referred to as "your stalker." The italicized portion is his inner thoughts! This fic is inspired by the show You, and this is purely fictional writing!*

SYNOPSIS: Your stalker's obsession intensifies as he becomes involved with another woman named Daniella Foster, who he views as inferior to you. Despite his disdain for your best friend, he engages in a flirtatious and sexual relationship with her, all the while fantasizing about you.

What's more dangerous than a sick, psychotic, and perverted man?

I ran out of your blood today.

Just four hours ago, I was completely fine. The vial of your period blood was nearly empty, but I was able to stick my finger inside to collect the last of your crimson essence. I sucked a particularly big blood clot off my finger, and I was able to start my day with a huge smile.

Four hours ago, I could claim that I was a normal and functioning man, someone you wouldn’t blink an eye at, and that was all thanks to you.

Four hours ago, I was able to brush my teeth, take a shower, and clean myself up for the day. I had an extra pep in my step, and I felt like I could take on the world with a positive outlook.

Don’t you see how much life you give me? Your blood alone has made me feel like I was on top of the world, like I could float up into space with just your plasma to help me survive.

But now, it was gone.

Your stalker stared blankly at the window as his body was jostled side to side, his hands tightly gripping the handle of his tote bag that rested on his lap. He tried to ignore the obnoxiously sick person near him, who didn’t even bother to cover their coughs. He closed his eyes to avoid staring into the eyes of another person across from him. He was sandwiched between two burly people: one shouted loudly into their phone, clearly having zero spatial awareness, while the other snoozed. The woman's head drooped as she nodded off, and her greasy hair brushed against his cheek.

She had a distinct smell of sweat and wet socks. Your stalker apologized to the man next to him as he slightly leaned his body away from the woman. He was stuck in this position unless someone took pity on him and spoke up.

His car was in the shop. The tire had unexpectedly given out, causing him to swerve into oncoming traffic. The car was old anyway, a gift from his parents when he first got his license in high school. That must have been, what, ten years ago? He didn’t like to think about his age; nothing good ever came from it anyway.

Your stalker rummaged through his bag, his hand searching for the familiar plastic tube he used to steal your period blood. His fingers brushed against a particularly sharp blade he kept for “safety” reasons before they wrapped around the vial. He had really tried to savor it. He would carefully open his mouth and tilt the vial just enough for a single drop of blood to settle onto his tongue. Sometimes he would pour a bit into his coffee, or he would put it into his food. Either way, it made him feel closer to you. It was a comforting notion to think about, that he was the only man and human who had access to you in such an intimate way.

Your stalker sighed as he put the empty tube back into his breast pocket for safe keeping.

He didn’t like taking public transportation. New York was known for having odd things happening on the trains, buses, and subways. He was pretty sure that last week someone had set a rat on fire, a poor woman got robbed in broad daylight, and a group of teens were filming their dumb YouTube prank videos on the elderly.

Your stalker felt a flare of irritation as the woman leaned on his shoulder again. He gently nudged her off and ignored the way she woke up all startled. He glanced down at his phone, counting the number of stops, and saw he had twelve more before he could get off.

He was going to Manhattan for a job. An absolute douchebag had hired him, and his name was Myron Vykolv. He was the type to spend his money on trips and a bedazzled car rather than giving back to charity. Vykolv was an artist's worst nightmare: fickle, a headache to deal with; but surprisingly, he had good taste in art. He had to; he hired your stalker, after all.

He pulled out his phone to scroll on social media, his eyes scanning the copious amount of braindead content, and he paused when he saw a familiar face. He pressed the buttons on the side of his phone, his screen flashing, and the screenshot he took was saved in his photo album. Your stalker zoomed in, and his eyes widened as he saw the perfectly harmonious facial features. The baby tee top had a cute graphic splayed on the chest area, hair slicked and pulled back into a bun, and gold hoops dangling from those nicely formed ears.

It was you.

He glanced down at the caption: "a coffee date with my favorite bff." Posted exactly five minutes ago. It wasn't your account, but it was the closest thing he had to you. Your stalker decided to follow your coffee-manic and bikini-loving friend, and every post and picture she had, you were in it too.

She made it almost easy to stalk. Jesus, what if a deranged man had decided to show up to her place in the Beverly Hills area on the street of— seriously? Did she really just post her full address online?

Daniella Foster. The epitome of a fun and ditzy socialite who spent way too much time at parties and clubs. A trust fund baby if there ever was one, with her daddy being a big shot in the entertainment industry. Despite all that privilege, she never quite made it big herself.

Your stalker snorted as he saw the array of failed projects she had been in. Modeling? Wasn't in the cards for her. Acting? Horrible. A piece of cardboard would've had more personality than her. Originally from Tampa, Florida, then she moved to California, where she had her comically large house, and then… she decided to bless us by coming to New York. Lucky us, right y/n?

Your stalker looked up from his phone and realized the train had come to his stop. He got up from his seat and quickly made his way out. He felt his phone vibrate in his hand and looked down: Daniella requested to follow you. That was fast.

He clicked accept.

She's a shameless flirt, your stalker soon found out, and he’s not the least bit surprised. Daniella slid into his DMs with a picture of her provocatively sucking a lollipop, and her first words to him were: “What do you look like?”

Gee, take a gander, Daniella. My profile picture is a high-definition shot of my handsome and sexy fucking face. But sure, ask me about my looks as if you were actually interested. Your stalker rolled his eyes. He didn’t even want to respond to that message, but he had no other way of seeing you again. You would probably run at the sight of him, and that would be the most sane and correct thing you could do.

So, what does a man say when he’s mediocre, average, and you’re clearly out of his league? “I look like the man of your dreams, sweetheart.”

Your stalker had spent hours sexting and courting this woman who had flooded his inbox. Even when he was painting for a client, he managed to multitask and send a dick pic. He sent her whatever she wanted to keep her hooked, and just by her messages alone, this must have been the only time a man actually matched her level of craziness and horniness.

Days turned into weeks and then soon into months. The moment he woke up, he would see that she had sent him hundreds of messages in one night—she must've been drunk again.

He spent hours reading each message, and he hearted the ones that he felt were the most important. It was actually coming to an end, thank God, but to his surprise, she asked him out on a date.

"So, what do you do? Who are you?" The girl in front of him asked.

He shouldn't have said yes because now he was sitting in a restaurant that he could barely afford or get a reservation to, and he had to be with this woman who wasn't you. She was dressed beautifully - he'd give her that. He liked the dark colors of her red dress, the way he could drink in the curves of her hips and chest, and how it gave him a clear view of her body.

Now, he wondered what you would have worn if you were on a date with him. Would you have put in this much effort and shown this much skin? Would you have laughed at all of his jokes to boost his damn ego, or knocked him down a peg? Would you have ordered something light so you could have sex afterward, or would you have eaten something hearty and called it a day?

He pretended to think for a while, all before he gently touched her hand, and his fingers caressed her soft skin. "Who am I?" He teased, his voice slightly deepened as he gave her a playful once-over. "I'm hurt. After all these months, you still don't know who I am?"

"Why don't you refresh my memory?" She tilted her head.

Your stalker sighed and he looked around briefly. This place was intimate, for high rollers only, and he could just imagine how much of his money was going to go down the drain. The tiny candle on the table, the white clean cloth, and the vase with a single rose was still too romantic for his taste. His thumb traced circles on her hand, and the other grabbed for his steak knife.

“I'm an up-and-coming artist,” He replied with a bit of a shrug.

“An up-and-coming artist, huh?” She echoed, her fingers now interlocked with his. “Do you come often?”

Lord, please have some mercy and shoot me. Do I come often? Wouldn’t you like to know, you slut. Is this the type of person you really want to spend your time with, y/n? Daniella is not you, and she could never be you. She parades herself around for anyone and everyone to ogle at—she is the epitome of what’s wrong with the dating scene. No wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend. No wonder she’s desperate enough to entertain me—of all people.

I know the type of people you like, Daniella, and it’s not me.

“You know what you’re doing when you ask me that.” he brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed it. “I can tell you can make a man come often.“

Daniella giggled and her chest puffed out. She leaned closer to him, and he can practically drown in her scent of vanilla and cake. “I have an art piece that I think you'll appreciate. It's back at my place… wanna see it?”

Fuhhhhhck no. Your stalker slipped the knife into his pocket.

Your stalker smirked and he leaned in closer as well. He could see the makeup on her face, the gloss on her lips, and he could see a glimpse of her ample breasts. “I don’t know… is it one of a kind?”

Underneath the table, her leg started to caress his, and her foot slowly found its way to his crotch. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, and he held onto her hand tighter. As much as he hated this, he would have been lying if he had said that the attention wasn’t nice. He felt the pressure around his groin tighten as she pressed her foot onto it, and she gently rubbed it up and down while maintaining eye contact.

“It’s an original piece…something that can’t be replicated. I’m sure you’ll love it.” Daniella said coyly, and she bit down on her plush lips.

She knew when to strike when the iron was hot. A taxi was called, and she made out with him in it. Her body was pressed up against his, and she felt his hand grip on her ass. His hand then slid up her thigh, his fingers ripped her black sheer stockings and two of them found their way to her entrance. He bit down on her bottom lip and his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She's a fun girl. She knew exactly how to inflate a man's ego and pride. He heard her sweet, light moans, and her hips started to grind onto his hand. His thumb played with her clit, and they only pulled away when the cab arrived at her house. He grabbed her hand and tossed a couple of bills at the driver. He slammed the door shut, and before she could unlock the door to her house, he pressed her against his body.

"W-We're in public...!" Daniella's face was flushed and she tried to close her legs, but your stalker was quick to pull them back apart.

He narrowed his eyes and tugged down her panties. "So? Don't tell me you have morals all of a sudden." he snorted.

He wished that she would just shut up. She opened her mouth to rebuttal but he wrapped one hand around her throat to keep her still and quiet, and he shimmied off his pants just enough for his cock to be out. "I didn't come here for you to talk all the damn time. Shut it, before I put that mouth of yours to good use."

Your stalker lifted her up and made her wrap her legs around him. His dick then entered inside her, and he groaned at how wet and ready she felt. It's been awhile since he felt actual warmth, and her walls started to clench around him. His breath is ragged as he fucked her. His eyes were closed and he couldn't help but bite down onto her shoulder. Daniella cried out, and her body was tense as his teeth broke into her skin.

"God... you needed this, didn't you?" He purred as he licked up the puncture wound. Your stalker then looked down to watch his cock disappear into her. "You need someone to fuck your brains out." He sharply thrust into her again, and his hands dug into the plush of her ass to help with the momentum.

Your stalker dragged his tongue across her bleeding shoulder, then pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall. With one hand still gripping her body, he used the other to shove his fingers down her throat, silencing her whimpers."You're the prettiest whore I have ever seen. Isn't that right, y/n?"

Your stalker truly believed he was being intimate with you. Daniella, who? All he knew was you. All he ever wanted was to feel you, to taste you, and to be able to hear you mewl around his cock. He wanted to see your eyes roll back into your skull, to paint your skin with butterfly kisses, and for him to finally come inside you again and again. It actually pissed him off to no end that he had to be stuck here with her.

When he felt himself getting closer to the edge, he unceremoniously pulled out of her, and his white stream of cum dripped down onto the ground. He sighed as his dick softened, and he gently helped her stand on her own legs again. His hand dipped underneath her body, his fingers playing with her wet folds, and he spread them apart to furiously rub at her clit. Daniella gripped onto his arm to keep him firmly there until she felt her leg shake.

Your stalker watched with a bit of fascination as what seemed like an endless amount of juices squirted out of her. He got onto his knees and helped her to sit onto his face. After he cleaned her all up, your stalker suddenly remembered something and his hand patted down his pockets.

"Hey... I think I'm missing my phone." He started his little lie. "Can I borrow yours? I forgot that I had an important call--"

"Bag." She just said and pointed to the one that was tossed to the side.

He muttered a "thanks" before he went over and rummaged through her purse. "What do you think about doing this again?" he kept an eye on her as his hand aimlessly tried to look for her phone. "I had fun tonight, and I'd like to see you one more time."

He could feel the various items in her bag. A packet of cigarettes, two lip products, house keys, a whole perfume bottle, but fuck where was her phone?

He watched as Daniella rolled down her scrunched up dress. The woman then raised her brow and she crossed her arms. "I'm pretty sure you said another woman's name."

"I didn't." He said rather quickly. "You drank a lot of wine--it was almost like you were trying to bankrupt me." He joked, and his hand firmly gripped onto what felt like a smooth case. He pulled it out of her bag and there it was. "What's your password?"

"Trying to change the subject, are we?"

"I'm pretty sure your phone is the subject, unlock it pretty please?"

Daniella pulled back her hair and she stared at him expectantly.

"I said give me your password, not a blowjob." Your stalker frowned.

She gave him an exasperated look. "It's my face dumbass." she then snatched her phone back from him.

"You don't use your thumb? What kind of update is that?"

"God, you're so poor." He heard her mutter.

That was so unwarranted, and sort of hurt.

Though it made him feel a lot better when he finally decided to slit her throat. Now that she was distracted, he discreetly pulled out the steak knife from his pocket before he dropped her bag and roughly yanked her back to him. His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her screams as he dragged the serrated blade across her neck. The knife sawed through flesh, muscle, and sinew, blood spurting and gushing with each desperate pulse of her heart. It took him a while to sever her head completely, his arm burning with exhaustion as he hacked away, the blade catching on bone and gristle, her life draining away in a torrent of crimson.

Your stalker wiped his bloodied hand on her dress, he grabbed the phone off the ground, and he groaned when he saw that the screen was cracked. He tried his best to work the damn thing, his finger poking at the messaging app multiple times before it decided to open. Daniella had a plentiful amount of unsaved numbers but they had weird emojis next to them. One number was from a different country and had the eggplant emoticon.

Then he found the only saved number: y/n.

You're apparently a good girl and shared your location with your best friend. How adorable, you even share every given moment with her too. You even talked about how you were thinking about going back to your serial cheater of an ex.

Your stalker gasped, his head reeling back in shock. You were about to go back to your ex? Your ex, of all people? You couldn't have, what—moved on like a normal person? You couldn't have gone out and fucked around with someone new? Someone like him? It's like you purposely make the wrong choices just to be saved. Before he could be your little personal super hero... his eyes slowly made its way back to the body on the ground, and then to the keys that were in her bag.

Have you ever heard of cuteness aggression? The rush of impulsive behavior that you get after seeing a cute and defenseless puppy? I get that when I see you. I think you're so adorable that it makes my heart burst. Your stalker stared up into your apartment, and the car windows were rolled down to air out the perfume he dumped into the body bag.

However, there was nothing cute about this ugly pig-like fuck that touched your waist. That man had no redeeming qualities, and boy, did I want him to start squealing in pain. I wanted to pinch his body until he had yellowish-brown bruises all over. I wanted to crush his skull with my bare hands and feel his pulse drop. I wanted to be able to drink the blood shower that would come from their body and bathe in it. I want them to realize that you’re off the market, and that you’re solely mine.

They’re not good for you, love. You have seen that time and time again, and they have disappointed you before without fail; so why do you welcome them with open arms? It hurts to see your legs over their shoulders, and to see a bit of your face contorted in pleasure and ecstasy. Is it the sex? Is it the way they give you a fleeting moment of what could have been if they weren’t constantly cheating on you?

That’s pathetic, and you know it. But it’s okay, I’m willing to look past this little transgression. It’s not completely unforgivable. They must’ve broken you down and made you vulnerable enough to pull your pants down. It’s not your fault. It’s theirs.

Your stalker continued to stake out your house, patiently waiting for your ex to come down to the lobby. The moment he did, your stalker would be ready. He might not have been able to get your blood, but killing your ex and taking his was like killing two birds with one stone.

Allure: This is the first fic I wrote that actually has y/n in it! And it's pretty unedited, so if there is mistakes I will probs fix it later on. This dragged on for waaay longer than it needed and tbh, I am never writing a long fic like this again LMAO

[our-trans-youth-experience]

Rest in Power, Nex Benedict

A 16 year old kid who loved nature and looking after their cat Zeus. Who enjoyed reading, watching the Walking Dead, and playing Ark and Minecraft. They loved to cook and would often make up their own recipes. They did well in school, being a straight-A student. Rest in power a teen who was human and had interests and ambitions and challenges and friendships. A trans youth who was brutally murdered just for being trans, when that was only a fragment of who they were as a person.

Nex Benedict, Jacob Williamson, Brianna Ghey, and other trans youth like them were real people with real lives. They deserved better, longer, happier lives. They deserved to grow up and not fear for their lives. They deserve to be remembered as who they were, not just as another trans kid who was killed, as people with families and normal human lives.

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason, to Roy: We murdered a man together. I feel like that was bonding.

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 3

Things are gonna get a bit darker than they have been in the second half of this moon. Be warned and check the tags! Happy Spooky Season!

The sun is ever-present in the summer sky. It sits vigil alongside the clan. Soon after the bodies arrive at camp a patrol sets out to track the rogues, but finding that they have already crossed Shadedclan's territory, it is decided that the opportunity for revenge has passed. They'll double patrols and wait to see if the murders try to cross the territory on their way home. Many are upset, but few argue. As the sky begins to lose it's duskiness, the vigil is ended, the bodies buried, and the clan cats left to filter back into camp at their own pace. Wildfirecry excuses himself to clear his head, while Dancepaw attempts to bridge the gap with the only brother he has left.

Seeing Rosehiptree will be left alone in the burial place, Songpaw decides to stay for a while.

It takes Wildfirecry three days to find the farm cats.

There are Forestclan traditions that were never passed on to Loudclan. Rites that were deemed too dark to touch the newborn clan and thus were cast aside. But here, miles past the valley territories, they live on.

Wildfirecry returns to Loudclan's camp a week after the vigil having lost two lives. No one questions where he has been. The scent of rancid dried blood still lingers despite a fresh coat of oil, and his wounds, while closed, are unmistakably fresh. The clan returns to an uneasy normalcy.

[Whoo! I did it! This moon was INCREDIBLY hard for me. The first part relies so much on my dialogue skills, which, is the part of comic-making that comes least easily to me, and the second part is super experimental, which was so much fun, but also mentally tiring. (On that note please let me know if it's like impossible to see. I meant for it to be a bit difficult to make out, but it's hard to gage between my ipad and my laptop whether it will be readable for all of you. I can fiddle with the color grading tomorrow if necessary.) And finally, Rosehip's experience here is really, really close to my heart. That means that her scenes here are ones that I really wanted to write, but also that I had to take a couple of breaks to make sure that I wasn't wearing myself down too much, so sorry that it took longer than I thought and I haven't been able to answer as many asks as I had hoped to. Anyway, despite early difficulty I had a GREAT time finishing this moon up and I'm happy with how it turned out! Songpaw and Rosehiptree are keeping the trauma dump to best friends pipeline alive and I love them for it. Erminekit is kinda being a brat but he really just wants to be there for his best friend and everyone is getting in the way! He doesn't really get the concept of "giving someone space". As far as Moon 30 I have a science class that I'd like to get finished by the end of the month, so it will probably be a minute. Hope you guys enjoy!]

First Moon

Next Moon

[bananadramaaa]

Saga continues~

( First part Second part Third part Next)

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Hi!

I’d love a part two to your hit me hard and soft fanfic. Maybe Y/N continues to avoid them as a romantic relationship but begins to accept a platonic one liking eating with Dick or hanging out with Jason at school, etc… but the Batfam gets impatient and talks about why they are afraid (and maybe hunt down the ex which could gain their trust?)

Hit me Hard and Soft: Whispers in the Shadows

Synopsis: The relationship between the batfam gets broken after mistakes lead to accusations, and accusations lead to contingency plans.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: Poly!Yandere; All characters aged up; Possible betrayal; Bad father Bruce, but is he actually the asshole here?; Arguments; Mentions of killing and torture; Possibly ooc batboys: English is my 2nd language.

Word count: 2k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Not much action between Reader and the batboys here, but definitely something. Read the end to answer my question👀

General masterlist | Hit me Hard and Soft - Series masterlist

— You can't be serious.

The tension was at its highest point. Only a few times priorly did the conflict between all of them get this bad, and as always, they feared things couldn't go back to the way they were.

— I am being serious. That's how things work. — Bruce stated darkly and Dick narrowed his eyes. — We tried it the nice way, I trusted you to behave, but you couldn't do that. — Bruce raised his gloved hand and pointed at Damian. — First, Damian can't control himself. He spent a decade acting right. Justice, not vengeance. But now, he's using (Y/N) as an excuse to defile orders and act as an assassin again! — Damian hissed and clenched his fists, taking a step forward.

— If you really cared for them, you would understand, father! But as always, you put your so-called mission above everything, even us! Even them! — Bruce clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes in his direction, then turned to Jason.

— And you! How many chances do I have to give you? Both of you! You don't change. You will never change. And until you do that, you will never deserve (Y/N)’s or mine trust. Or their love. — Jason's heart broke in two, but he didn't react on the outside. Just kept his hard, Red Hood’s exterior. As he always did every time he and Bruce had a falling out.

— Bruce… — Dick muttered, a mix of a warning to remind him of not going too far, and betrayal by what he was witnessing. Bruce didn't look phased. And the fact he was still wearing Batman's suit, minus the cowl, just made this whole situation more genuine. He was neither Bruce Wayne, the persona, nor Batman, the vigilant. He was just Bruce. Their boss and their father.

— You hunted down that man, tortured and killed him! And you… — He took his gaze away from Jason and glared at Damian again. — Knew about it, and didn't notify us!

— I did know about it. Todd, you should have told us before. I also wanted that scum’s blood in my hands-

— ENOUGH! THE BOTH OF YOU WILL STAY AWAY FROM (Y/N). FOREVER.

Tim raised an eyebrow.

— Sound’s convenient. — All head’s snapped in his direction.

— What do you mean, Tim? — Dick asked. All muscles on his body tense. Tim gazed at him for a moment, then at Damian and Jason, then at Bruce again, staring directly into his eyes. — I just think it's very convenient that Bruce's getting rid of two of them. While your reason checks with past conflicts we had, with your morals and mission. It's also good for you that you wouldn't have to share (Y/N)’s attention with so many people in the future. Right, Bruce?

Silence took hold of the room.

— What are you implying? — Bruce stomped forward until he was face to face with Tim, their nose’s almost touching, daring him to say more. Tim didn't back down.

— Yeah, Tim, what're you implying? — Jason raised an eyebrow behind his helmet and took a step forward. The others copied that action.

— I’ve been watching you, Bruce. Just like you've been watching us. I know you’ve been upgrading contingency plans, more specifically, our contingency plans. I think he's been trying to keep us busy. To rile us up to commit mistakes. While he hogs all of (Y/N)’s attention. He said Damian could be trusted again if he proved himself, that was a year ago, and he still didn't give Damian permission. I bet he knew Damian would get restless and get more violent with criminals. Until he had an excuse to kick him out. And Jason, he let you spend time with (Y/N) at university. But as soon as (Y/N) started calling you their best friend, hanging out with you outside of classes and even confiding in you about their trauma, proving that our plan to make them trust us was finally working, suddenly (Y/N)’s ex receives an offer to transfer to GCPD, while everyone here has a… Weakness, when it comes to losing people we love and avenging their suffering, it's a known fact some are more… Trigger-happy than others.

Dick shook his head.

— Tim, that's something serious you're accusing him of.

— Let him continue. — Bruce growled darkly.

— I don't have anything to accuse you of, Bruce. I just don't trust you. — He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

— So you're ready to brush off what they did? — Bruce accused and Dick started to feel even more restless seeing that the distance between them didn't change, feeling the urge to get in the middle and defend his little brother.

— I didn't say anything. But I wouldn't be surprised if me or Dick were next. — That made Dick snap.

No, he can't.

He can’t keep me away from them.

After everything I did.

We're just so close now.

Just earlier today we were having lunch together.

He can't.

He can't do this to me.

Is that how Jay and Dami felt? Is that why they snapped and started killing people? Is that why Jason killed that guy? Just for the idea of losing them forever?

Is that why, even with how heartbreaking and horrible it sounds, any possibility of someone trying to take them away from them made Tim voice out his paranoia? Thoughts Dick had when everything was quiet, when he just brushed it off as intrusive thoughts?

It isn't… Logical… But it also is…

The only thing stopping him from believing Tim wholeheartedly is the lifelong trust he had on Bruce. But those are just feelings. And they all feel. Intensely. For you.

And as much as they tried to make it peaceful, everyone having a piece of you and being happy. They were having problems, and a traitor was always a possibility.

Either way, he couldn't take that chance.

That night, Wayne Manor slept almost completely empty. All of the sons were gone. And you would know it too.

It's been a week. They've been meeting at the apartment just beside yours. It was empty, until Damian bought it, and started living there after cutting ties with his father. He wasn't happy that the others were also using it as their nest, a place to meet and talk about strategies. And keep an eye on you.

Damian was slowly steering his tea, mind elsewhere, not really paying mind to the conversation. While it was important, his stomach was full of butterflies and his heart pounded hard every time he thought about earlier, something he couldn't stop doing. After a whole year of being almost completely away from you, finally spending time with you was like a dream. That just made his resentment towards his father grow worse, even if he didn't do that on purpose, it still felt like injustice.

He knew since he was born, his way of doing things was always better.

He just told you he didn't know that part of the town much, and you, sweet you, already acquainted with his brothers, invited him to show him around. A bad taste came to his mouth whenever he thought he was the least close to you, even if he knew everything there was to know about his beloved. He got left behind. He let himself be left behind.

Because he was weak. Because he was submissive. Because he trusted his father.

His mother did send him to his progenitor's home saying that he needed to learn from him.

— We could use the League.

All heads snapped to him.

— Huh?

— We are talking about contingency plans for our father. We could have the League of Assassins on our side. Infinite resources against one single man. (Y/N) would live in luxury. And they did tell us… — His heart warmed at the sensation of finally feeling included in your life. — … Multiple times that they despised the cold weather Gotham always seems to have. Eth Alth'eban is always hot.

— We are not joining those fuckers, and you shut down that idea before I start believing what that old man said about you and kick your ass into your grave, demon brat. — Damian kept stoic after Jason's response.

— We could use the League for something good for once. I could. As the Head of the Demon. — He retorted with confidence.

Dick shook his head in disbelief.

— Dami, I think that's too much. It would only prove what Bruce was trying to say. — Damian leaned forward, as if getting closer would make his point come across as more genuine.

— I could do it! Not as a dictator like my grandfather! But as something actually good! Not just for us, but for everyone! The whole world!

— Does that megalomaniac plan of yours have an actual strategy? — Damian rolled his eyes.

— Of course it has. Kill anyone who gets in the way of my rightful place at birth. — Damian tilted his head at Tim, who looked at him in disbelief.

— Even Ras? — Damian frowned. What a dumb question. Damian would do anything for you.

— Especially Ras. — A fist hit the table and the oldest got up with a scowl in his face.

— No one. Is going to kill. Anyone. And we are not going to use the League. — Damian got up too.

— What is stopping you? This is for (Y/N)! It is not just some fucking petty act to annoy father. He acted behind our backs and he will take my beloved from me! From us!

— We don't know that yet! — Even with Dick's exclamation, it was clear not even him was totally sure about Bruce's intentions.

— … Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. — Tim muttered. They all observed he had a distant look on his face, it was the look he had when he was planning something. After a few seconds, he looked up again and got up, facing Damian. — I'm with you. It’ll be nice to see Ras look when he realizes he lost to me one last time. And to have whole guardianship of my spleen he keeps on his bedside table again.

— What? — The other three sputtered.

— I won't kill anyone. But I will help you and be an ally. Even if that means losing the Titans and leaving behind everything I build here. All for (Y/N). — Tim spoke. Jason got up.

— Tim, you can't be serious too. — He received a glare in return.

— I am. You're invited to join us. Or to become our enemy.

Damian was staring at Tim, the brother he always had a strange relationship with, full of fights and sarcasm, but they always knew they could count on each other in the end. Because they were family.

Of course, it would be nicer to have you all to himself, but he also needed more allies, and brilliant minds like his own. It would also hurt to lose every person he loved while choosing you, even if he would always choose you in the end.

— … What if (Y/N) doesn't trust us after this? — Dick mumbled, trying to see both sides before making a decision.

— We’ll explain to them. About how we got rid of every single individual who wanted to isolate and steal them from us. How we want to care for them. Keep them safe. And how I- We, made the world a better place in the process. — Dick glared at him halfheartedly.

— We have a solid plan here, Dick. We Just have to form our strategies based on what we have. It will work!

Dick sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. He started walking around the apartment, contemplating, listening in on your apartment and Tim and Damian in the background, trying to convince Jason.

When even Jason seemed convinced, Dick knew what he had to do.

Everyone turned to him when he came back to the table again, in expectation.

He looked Damian in the eyes and put his hand on his little brother's shoulders. So grown. So different from what he was before meeting you. You brought the worst out of him. Out of all of them. And you didn't even know it. That was the worse part.

But Dick was always known for being a manipulator.

— Congratulations, you're the new Demon's Head.

Extra note: I'm curious to if you guys think Bruce was actually planning something and not just being regular canon Batman putting his morals above family👀

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