#TW: Attempted Murder

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

*TW*

Hello!!! I absolutely love platonic yanderes with teenage reader so can I ask for a fic where the teen!reader is basically a traumatized being. They have experienced hell throughout their life from mental abuse to physical abuse. Like I mean, they have gotten in many dangerous situations which ended up with police involved (kidnapped, assaulted, murder attempt). Ofc the reader never really did anything wrong, they were just an innocent child till everything went downhill. They don't have any family members left leading them to stay at an orphanage. Anddd you could say the orphanage people aren't the nicest. And their mental health has become so fucked up that they had attempted suicide.

You don't have to do this if ur uncomfortable ofc. Sorry about how triggering the request might be

On the roof

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Cast x GN! Teen! Traumatized! Reader

Description: You are on the rooftop in the middle of the night.

Trigger warning: Suicide attempt. Abuse. Child abuse. Kidnapping. Assault. Attempted murder.

List of Suicide hotline numbers can be found here and here.

Warning: One swear word. English is my second language.

__________________________________

You silently opened the door, that leads to the roof of an orphanage. With your phone in hand, you take a few steps forward.

The door closed behind you.

You just stand here. You were silent.

You were here. You wanted to end this.

You sighed and looked around.

Should you just... Go to the edge and jump? It's not like someone would care about you.

You didn't bother with the last note.

No one would care about the reason.

You will simply become a name in documents.

You just wanted to be heard.

You mindlessly looked at your phone.

Should you take it with you?

Or left it here, so someone else would use it?

Your gaze stopped at the "BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan" icon. Will the new owner delete it? Or will continue your progress?

You tapped on the icon. You didn't leave a note.

Yet, you "talked" to BSD Characters so often, that it seems right, to let them hear your last words.

Your reasons.

You opened the Main Menu and choose 'Meeting Hall' option.

The picture of ADA Office appeared. And Chibis of all BSD Characters appeared.

This new option was cute. You liked petting chibis.

All chibis 'looked' at you.

And you finally spoke.

"Mom was strange..."

________

Your mom was strange.

She smelled funny. Like water everyone told you not to drink.

Sometimes, she stared at you. Stared for a long time.

And there were rules.

1. Don't cry.

2. Don't annoy mom.

3. You eat last.

4. If you stayed past curfew, you will sleep outside.

5. Don't tell anyone about your home life.

At least, she let you play outside as much as you want. Mom liked, when you were away from home.

*******

You were five, when you got kidnapped.

That night, you wake up to get some water.

Mom saw you.

In her eyes, you broke a rule.

You were sleeping outside.

One moment you were trying to get comfortable under the porch.

Next moment a man in a mask was dragging you in a van.

Three days.

You were in a dark, scary place for three days.

On a third day you heard two men talking.

"What do you mean, that mother didn't realize, that kid were missing?!"

_____

"Still... Mom paid the ransom. Kidnappers left me. It takes three more days for police to find me..."

____

You were standing near a police officer. And your mom finally arrived to the police station to collect you.

You walked to her, your head was low.

She hit you.

You screamed.

You collapsed on the floor, and your mother bent over you. She hissed and pushed you in the side with her feet.

"Are you satisfied, brat? Get up and go pack your belongings, we’re moving to a shed."

"You should treat your kid more kindly..." the officer grumbled. Your mother squealed.

"Kindly?! This brat had ruined my whole life!” Your mom was mad. She screamed like a fury, jumped in place and gave cowering you blow after blow. You didn’t try to dodge. You just trembled, curled up into a ball.

"Hubby ran away as soon as he gets it inside me! But dear relatives didn’t let me throw it away. They didn’t let me give it to an orphanage! They said that I need to raise this child! They stood up for a little bastard! But now, when I need to pay debt, they are nowhere to be found! They say I play cards too much! I'm just unlucky! Things are not going my way! The house is mortgaged! I poured all my savings into the last card game and won! I would pay off all my debts! And because of this thing, I now have to live in a shed! What will I tell my family now?! What will others say about me?!"

Officer heard enough.

The CPS were called.

_______

"... They were trying to find my father... Until then, grandmother and grandfather agreed to took me in..."

_______

You were six.

Your grandfather sat on the opposite side of the table.

Your textbook and notebook were laying on the table before you.

And your grandfather was talking.

"I finished checking your homework. As I expected, you are a little idiot. A stupid, worthless waste of space. You have made few stupid mistakes. You wrote numbers in a wrong order.

Grandfather opened your notebook. A red paste was covering the page.

2 + 1 = 3 1 + 2 = 3

3 + 1 = 4. 1 + 3 = 4

"So..." Grandfather take a ruler.

"Give me your hand. It will be ten hits for every wrong number."

________

"...it took two year to find my father. He had a family. And I... I was a child from affair. They never let me live it down... For years"

_______

You were nine.

The blow, when it came, took all of your air out of your lungs. You would have fallen if not for your two... "siblings" holding you.

"It feels good, giving a good beating to a dirtbag, right?"

The next hit was in your left eye. You managed to close it in time.

But it will be swollen.

You felt hot breath on your face.

"Your hair is too good for a bastard child."

Your sister brought the scissors up to your hair.

Snip, snip, snip. Cutting right alongside the scalp, sending your hair like leaves swirling to the ground.

Then scissors were plunged into your stomach.

"Die, child of a dirty whore."

______

"...Police was called. They were arrested. But I remained with father and his wife..."

_____

You were twelve.

You were going food shopping. Big bags were heavy, you were tried.

You still need to clean up the house and make dinner.

When you were attacked, because someone tied to rob you, you didn't even care.

You only knew, that, you will be beaten again for being late. And for losing food.

You were long past gone. There were no point in carrying about yourself.

~~~~~~

You were thirteen.

Your father, his wife and you were going to the funeral.

Your father's uncle died.

Now he only has his wife and kids. And you.

He noticed your gaze in a reflection.

He yelled at you for staring.

And he crashed.

You spent three hours in a broken car.

You were the only survivor.

_______

"... I was sent to an orphanage. I am too old to have any chance to be adopted. And I wasn't the only one, who had no chance to have a family..."

______

You tasted dirt and blood. An old rug was thrown over your head, to make it harder for you to fight back.

Someone pressed a knee on the back of your neck and held your face against the ground.

A kick in the side made you roll on your back.

Another person began to push down on your neck with an arm.

You began to struggle, thrashing about with your legs and beating them against the floor, but it was no good.

There were other kids around—at least a dozen of them. One of them would do something. One of them was sure to see that things were taking too far. Your vision began to go fuzzy.

Caretakers saved you only because the noise didn't let them watch TV.

________

"I couldn't take it anymore. I... thank you... Thank you for making me happy... For being the only happy thing in my life."

You finished talking and put your phone on the ground. You stand up and walked towards the edge.

You heard a loud noise. You turned around.

BSD Characters were standing behind you. Real.

And you were still standing near the edge. You were silent. Nikolai lift his overcoat and put his hand into the portal.

His head reappeared near you. You jumped away. Now you were even closer to the edge.

"No... I... I don't want to... Don't come closer..." whispered you. You took another step. You were almost here.

"[Y/N], if you go back, I will give you a hug!"

You froze and turned around.

Kenji Miyazawa made a step forward. He opened his arms, offering a hug.

"I promise, I will give you a hug. Come here... You really need a hug."

You trembled. You moved towards Kenji.

Step. After step. After step.

Kenji was standing here. Offering a hug.

You launched yourself forward, wrapping your arms around Kenji. He immediately hugged you back.

You cried. For the first time in years.

In a few minutes, you were in a middle of a large group hug.

________

You are fifteen.

You are living with your family.

You still have a long path to recovery.

And you are not alone.

BSD Cast will stay with you.

And will make sure, that you will never be hurt again.

[askquellowsans]

[•Legally, we have freedom of speech.]

[blood-and-pizza]

I just had the weirdest idea for a crossover:

William Afton tries to kill young Wednesday and Pugsley Addams by dressing up as Spring Bonnie. Turns out the kids don't give a damn about a cheerful-looking yellow bunny, but when they find out he wants to kill them and stuff them into animatronic suits, he's suddenly their new best friend... whether he likes it or not. Pugsley is especially eager to get stuffed inside a suit.

[anonymousboxcar]

I have a fic/au idea that I don’t have the spoons to write in full prose right now, but I’d like to put it out there.

So. Henry arrives on Sodor and an outraged Fat Director demands to know who built him. Henry tries to answer all his questions, but he soon realizes he doesn’t know much about his builders either.

He first came to in a damp shed with boarded-up windows. He never made out any faces, only ever hearing low voices around him. This was done to keep him from identifying anyone involved.

Once this is clear to Henry, it eats away at him. All the other engines on the NWR know their builders, their inherited legacies, and their engine families (siblings, cousins, etc.). Even worse, he’s not the engine the Fat Director wanted. He can’t help any of this.

…but he can figure out who his builders are. And maybe being able to answer those questions would make the Fat Director a little less angry with him. Maybe he could find out what family he might have out there. Maybe he could get an explanation from them.

So Henry asks engines coming in from the Mainland for info, with Edward and Thomas also asking around for him. The crew assigned to Henry sees how much this matters to him, and, growing fond of him, write letters to the place Henry was built.

They don’t make much progress, however, until Gordon arrives.

Gordon and Henry both feel very shaken when they see each other. Their designs are so close that it can’t be coincidental.

Their investigation is impeded somewhat by Gordon not wanting to associate with Henry. For him, it’s uncomfortable to acknowledge an engine so similar to him and yet so wrong. He looks at Henry and sees what could’ve been his fate, as an experimental prototype. And that doesn’t even go into the blow to his Gresley lineage and prestige as which he perceives Henry.

But then it only makes sense, a bitter Henry argues, for Gordon to disprove the idea that Henry’s a real Gresley engine. And so Gordon relents (with some sternness from Edward and some scowling from Thomas as well).

Gordon then admits when they question him that some plans went missing from Doncaster. It was before his time, but he overheard some people still speculating about who could’ve done it.

He says nobody saw the plans as a great loss — that they were rejected for having too small of a firebox for a locomotive of that size.

But as Henry and his crew begin looking into who stole those plans, suspecting a rival of Gresley, things go wrong with his trains. Things like loosened couplings, damaged track that was fine an hour ago, and trucks catching fire.

It’s all sabotage. Henry has become a liability to his builders by trying to expose them. And seeing as they already got the money from his sale, they have no further need of him.

Henry is horrified, make no mistake, but he’s also angry. He’s done with this nonsense. He wants to see his builders face-to-face, to draw them out, to get some kind of explanation from them.

And so he makes the impulsive decision to stop in a tunnel.

He’s miffed that the Fat Director matches his expectations and bricks him up, but not surprised. He does his best to explain himself to his crew once the hullabaloo dies down. But as he lays out his idea, his confidence wavers.

He’s not sure if he can face the people who built and then abandoned him. He’s not sure if he’ll come away from this safely. And even if does, he’s not sure he hasn’t burned every bridge on this railway and any hope of a future here. Can he trust anyone here?

He doesn’t tell them this, though. It’s too late to go back. He can only see this through.

That night, some strangers approach Henry’s tunnel. They’re his builders. They’re here to dispose of him. He finally sees their faces, even if he can’t put names to all of them.

The way they talk to him confirms that they never cared about him. He was always a means to an end. He was always one of a kind, the product of a jealous grudge against another engineer.

And yet it doesn’t hurt the way Henry thought it would. He sees them and feels no connection, no obligation to them. He realizes they’re not and never were his family — that he never had to please or live up to them.

So when they give him one last chance to shut his mouth, to keep quiet about who they are, he laughs in their faces.

He takes great satisfaction in telling them they can’t command any kind of loyalty from him. He knows he could never trust them and he’s fine with that, because he feels nothing for any of them now. He doesn’t need them.

The only thing that scares him is the thought that he won’t get away from this. As the builders advance on him, he thinks that he’s grown fond of Sodor and this ridiculous railway. He wants to roll his eyes at Thomas’ quips, to watch the sunrise with Edward. He might even want to bicker with Gordon. He wants a future here.

And then his crew leaps out of hiding, getting into a scuffle with the builders.

It’s long enough for Thomas to come barreling down the line, followed by Edward and Gordon. They bring the police, having been informed of the “stake-out” plan… and the Fat Director steps off Thomas’ footplate, too.

The builders are summarily subdued and arrested, and all the engines and crews ask Henry is he’s alright. (Well, Gordon does so in a very roundabout, emotionally constipated way, but he still asks.) Henry is overwhelmed. He was right to trust them, it seems. He could more than trust them.

Henry and the Fat Director then hash things out. It’s a tense and messy conversation, especially because Henry is still reeling from the events of the night so far. But the Fat Director says that, regardless of his own opinions, it’s clear the rest of his engines and workmen would riot if he turned Henry away now. And he can’t afford that.

“You are needed here,” he says. It’s not quite an apology, but it’s close — an undoing of the bricks between them. “You are useful.”

Henry doesn’t say thank you, because this is the bare minimum. “Yes, sir,” he says, trying very hard not to cry anyway.

And so Henry is let out of the tunnel and remains on the NWR. It’s not perfect — far from it, sometimes — but it’s home. It gets better over the years. Decades pass before the Thin Clergyman starts asking around for the story of Henry’s tunnel.

By now, not many people know about what really happened. The knowledge of Henry’s leading designer would’ve torpedoed a workshop’s reputation, one which turned out to be uninvolved in what one of its designers did in his free time. Many people would’ve lost their jobs and locomotives would’ve lost the ability to find homes. So in the end, the scandal was hushed up and the builders were charged on the more minor offenses they committed.

For that reason, Henry and the others quickly rule out telling the truth. Nor does Henry want to revisit that time in his life. He doesn’t want to be associated with his builders in any way.

Thomas’ cheeky suggestion about him not wanting the rain to spoil his paint isn’t very flattering, but the others’ suggestions are even worse. (Edward’s idea of Henry being in the tunnel for a heroic reason is outvoted, though Henry appreciates it.) He also has to admit the Fat Director doesn’t look much better in that version of events — he looks arguably worse than Henry.

Is it petty? Yes. Does Henry go along with it anyway? Yes.

The Fat Director, now the first Fat Controller, accepts this without comment. He’s learned and grown quite a bit since the early days of his railway. He’s not the same man who bricked up Henry; he doesn’t think it’s worth getting so worked up over a small dig at him. (And while he’d never admit it, he thinks it’s a way to somewhat atone for his part in it all.)

But even if the Fat Controller did get upset, Henry wouldn’t be afraid in the slightest. He knows the engines here have his back. He knows he’ll always have his family.

[grizzy-ly]

Depths (Nix!Krueger x Reader)

In which Krueger is a *completely* innocent water spirit who just wants to talk to you... C'mon, don't be harsh, sit down, relax, *hold your breath*-- or don't.

[Inspired by Dall ASMR's Nøkken series on YouTube]

I have been frothing at the mouth for more dedicated Krueger content, here is my offering for anyone else who has been put in a stranglehold by the other Austrian war criminal of the COD fandom-- if I had a nickel...

This is my first fanfic I've publicly posted online and my first truly sort-of completed one (may eventually write another part-- *eventually*), also posted it to my ao3: grizz_ly.

Reader is gender-neutral.

Word Count: 3,484

Content Warning: Yandere-ish behavior, attempted murder/drowning of reader, successful drowning/murder of other people, descriptions of drowning

────────────

“Do not venture close to the water,” you were incessantly warned upon first arriving, “Do not speak to it, and do not let it take you.”

When you tried to ask questions the townsfolk would shush you– it was taboo to speak about the lake or what it was. 

When prying anyway, you would get hushed pity directed toward those with sons and daughters who had been ripped from their loved ones; they would stray too far away from the safety of beaten trails and end up swallowed by the lake, spit back out onto the shore with blue-tinged skin and clouded, vacant eyes– now forever young. 

In the back of the local inn, when the locals had one too many, you’d hear the speculative whispers of it…

“... vengeance from a displeased water spirit?”

“... perhaps a curse from the devil himself… a punishment for our sin.”

“... they simply drank too much and believed themselves to be stronger swimmers than they were.”

As the discussions grew louder and slurred they would be scolded into silence, lest they invoke the lake’s wrath or fuel baseless superstition.

Whether one considered the tales of malevolent beings superstition or fact, one thing was certain– no one ventures to the lake. It was not worth the risk. Even the harshest skeptic carefully planned their routes away from the lake.

You too took great care to avoid the lake when you finally departed the village. Stepping onto the beaten grass of the worn path you began your several-day walk to the next point along your journey. As you passed by where the lake would be according to your map you heard the muffled sounds of… music?

You had heard many things out in the forest: birds chirping, the rustling of the brush as you stepped past, the gentle purrs of a rushing stream– but you had not heard music. You had never heard music this enchanting in fact.

You could not help yourself as you stepped off of the path into the tall grass that swayed in the breeze, and now with your movement. Your feet seemed to move on their own. You just wanted to… get a better listen to the music. As you ventured further away from the path you justified it with the notion that you would simply avoid getting too close to its edge. Just a look and listen wouldn’t hurt. How could it? It couldn’t. 

The ground underfoot grew soft as you maneuvered between trees and the tall grass transitioned to a lush moss. You soon found yourself on a raised ledge overlooking the water– though not too far up, the drop is only around half of your height. 

You can’t see the bottom of the lake; its visibility is done no favors by the tangles of weeds concealing the bed and lilies dotting the surface. The lake dazzles with the sun’s rays, though the overlook is dim due to the cover from the trees, which also allows for a comfortable chill to permeate the air.

Despite its serenity, it was… underwhelming.

You had expected something. With how dangerous the lake had been described– as a vicious, indiscriminate killer of the young– it was almost too calm, too peaceful, too… normal.

“Hallo,” a voice called out from a nearby rock peeking out of the water, it caused you to snap your head towards the source.

You size up the man. The first thing you notice is the net covering his face with foliage and other flora tucked into it, his attire besides that being plain garb and a cloak carelessly draped into the water, thus wetting the hem. The second thing you noticed was the instrument, a violin– likely the source of the music you heard.

As the silence dragged on it was broken by the sounds of a few strings of the violin being plucked as the man fiddles with it, “Ach… do not tell me you are too scared to speak? Schade…”

The stillness of the lake is emphasized by the quietness of this moment– why is it so quiet? No chirping birds, no rustling animals, no splashing fish… the only other noise besides your breathing is him slowly tuning his instrument.

“Hm…” you can see his veil shift as he seems to tilt his head, “That bad?”

“What do you mean?” You say slowly.

“What the townsfolk must have said to you…” he chuckles, “I must admit… I thought you’d run off by now, it’s been too long since anyone has spoken with me… the– the verdammt villagers blame me and paint me as a monster, but you– you don’t seem as… quick to assume, yes? Innocent until proven guilty, ja?”

You suppress a flinch at the momentary vitriol in his voice when talking about the townspeople, “I–”

“Please just… stay here with me for a moment and… speak to me? Bitte?” You can hear the hope in his pleading.

“... Alright.” You say with a hesitant nod.

“Thank you,” he says as he focuses back on his violin, after a beat he speaks again with a laugh, “You know… I asked if you could speak with me. I’m sure you have questions, so, ask them– just an idea. Just an idea.”

“Sorry, I–” you try to think of a question feeling suddenly pressured and struggling to find the right thing to ask. You settle on the most obvious, “What’s your name?”

“I go by many names… you can call me Krueger,” he says simply, “Yours?”

You give him your name and he simply hums in response. He is… not working with you here to help carry along the conversation to attempt to force you to speak more.

“...” you steel your nerves and force out your next question, “What are you?”

“Harmless–” Krueger laughs, “You treat me like I am going to bite your head off or drown you, relax some of that tension you’re carrying… I wouldn’t hurt a fly–” “You know what I mean,” you say hesitantly, “You’re not human. At least I don’t think you’re human.”

“Ach, I am offended,” he says shaking his head with a playful click of the tongue, “I am that awful? Not even a person… you hurt me so.”

“You… are you messing with me,” you ask.

“No… no, never, never,” Krueger says as he plucks the strings again before clicking his tongue, “Maybe– only a smidge…”

You then sit in the familiar lull of the conversation– you should get back to the trail, it’ll be a long walk and you start to feel like you’re wasting time.

“I should–” you begin but are quickly interrupted.

“Stay… stay?” Krueger says, “Yes, I agree. Aw… I’m sorry, am I getting to you, I don’t mean to… I just like to have a bit of fun… it’s in my nature…”

“I need to–” interrupted again.

“Is someone expecting you,” Krueger asks.

“...” You wonder if you should be honest, “No.”

Kruger huffs, “Then you do not need to leave. Sit, sit– just for a moment. It is peaceful here is it not? Take in the sights… it’s the journey that matters.”

You want to leave but at the same time… this… man? Creature? It doesn’t matter– Krueger does not seem like the monster you expected. What harm could humoring him do? Besides you feel intrigued by the strange man.

So you sit on a nearby log that is almost precariously close to the water, placing your packed belongings at your feet.

Kruger pauses, “You’re staying?”

“Should I g–”

“Bleib, geh nicht!” Krueger exclaims as he puts his arms out in a surrendering motion. He slowly relaxes, clearing his throat before he speaks again, “I mean– Of course, you would stay. Yes, yes. Of course”

You drum your fingers against the log as you watch Krueger. He climbs off of his rock and stands in the opaque water, keeping his violin held firmly on his shoulder.

“How deep is the water?” You ask.

“Not deep, no, not at all,” Krueger says, “Why? Would you like to join me?”

Not deep…

How could so many drown in shallow water? Your thoughts travel to your memories of the words of the townsfolk in the inn.

Krueger…

You feel your stomach sink as you reconsider your decision to stay. Krueger seems to sense your apprehension.

“Would you like to hear a song?” Krueger pleads, “It was my music that drew you here wasn’t it? I am quite the violinist, ja? I’m sure you’d love to hear the rest… surely…?”

You can’t deny that the music had drawn you here, and you did want to hear more.

You wave your hand, “Please, go ahead.”

Krueger adjusts his violin to rest against his shoulder, gently placing his chin on the rest. He moves his net off of the violin and then starts to play. His fingers move across the fingerboard, deftly weaving an intricate melody. The way he plays is hypnotizing. You rest your head on your closed fist as your expression goes from amused to moved. You don’t even notice him moving closer, too consumed by the music to pay attention to him slowly wading through the water towards you.

Before you realize it, he grabs at your bag, splashing away with something in his hand.

Your compass.

“Hey!” You say as you stand up, “You can’t just– give that back!”

Krueger slowly trudges back to the rock he had been sitting on, securing his violin on top before inspecting your compass.

“Ah, your compass is fine,” he announces as he inspects it, “I was just curious– since when was curiosity such a crime?”

You shake your head in disbelief, your features contorting into an anger-induced shock, “You can’t just– give that back. Now.”

He doesn’t seem to be listening to you instead muttering about the quality of the metal and craftsmanship of the compass.

“Are you– are you being serious!?” You yell, “Come back here!”

Krueger laughs slightly as he approaches the edge of the water again, “I apologize here…” As you reach for the compass he pulls his hand away, “-- It truly is a marvelous compass, where did you get it?” He seems so sincere and innocent– like he didn’t steal from you a moment ago.

“Krueger–”

“Oh, I do so love it when you say my name,” he says, “What is it?”

“You know exactly–”

“Ah, yes, your compass? Why do you need it? Wouldn’t you like to stay here a bit longer…” If you could see his face you are sure he’d be frowning.

“Krueger–!” 

“Oh, you spoil me so…” Krueger sighs, “You can have it back…” You put out your hand, but then nearly boil over as he completes his sentence, “If you come get it from me.”

“Give it.” You say.

“Take it,” he retorts, “The water is fine… what harm will it do? It is a nice day.”

You feel a chill run up your spine, “No. I…”

Your body realizes the danger of this situation before you do. You feel the phantom sensation of movement, your legs begging you to leave your compass and run.

“Give me my compass,” you say, but the waver in your voice betrays your faux confidence.

Krueger is still for a moment before he motions with his hand for you to come closer, “Fine.”

You stomp over, teetering on the edge of the lake and nearly losing your balance as you crouch. You seethe with anger as you jut your hand out, “Now.”

Krueger hands it back, you lean forward to try to grab it sooner as he moves agonizingly slow. Suddenly he lunges at you. In a swift movement clamps his hand onto your presented wrist and tugs you harshly. As you lose your balance you topple into the water. Time slows as you fall towards the water.

The lake is deeper than you had imagined– or maybe it just feels deeper as you aren’t allowed to bring yourself back above the surface with Krueger keeping you under.

Despite being under the surface you can hear him laugh as if you were still out of the water.

“What? Can you not swim?” Krueger coos as he tries to ensnare you in his arms further, “Or did you just not get enough air? Ah, did I take your breath away perhaps? … Well if I didn’t I will…”

You flail about in the darkness, your movements sluggish as you try to move your limbs in the water. You try to grasp at anything to orient yourself. Your feet connect with the bottom of the lake as you kick.

“Stop,” Krueger growls as he strains to try to hold you down, “It is not so bad. Stop– stop fighting.”

Panic runs icy hot in your veins.

“I know… I know…” Krueger says as you thrash in his arms, twisting and turning wildly, “Come now… don’t struggle. Don't you want the last thing you feel to be love? Why must you fight me… I just… want to hold you. Tsk, that is not so bad…”

The water stings your eyes.

“Let me hold you. Deep breaths… deep breaths…” Krueger murmurs trying to lull you to just give in, “Let me take you away from it all… rest… rest now… you’re safe… I’m here…”

Your lungs burn as your chest spasms.

Krueger speaks to you in a hushed tone full of affection, “I can’t help it… when I see someone as beautiful as you, I want to hold you, squeeze you, and preserve your beauty forever… wouldn’t you like to be forever beautiful… forever young… forever loved… lass dich lieben.”

Your mind runs amok as you seem unable to form any coherent thoughts not consumed by fear or spoken by your survival instinct.

“This moment would be so beautiful if you– if you would just let it!” He can’t keep his annoyance from bubbling up at your continued resistance.

Your vision vignettes, the dark water growing impossibly black. 

You want to let go. You want to stop fighting. You want to breathe… but you don’t want to die.

Your hands feel fabric and you pull, which elicits a yelp from Kreuger. Krueger stops trying to grasp you as you feel him move back in the water allowing you to resurface.

Your head pops back up above the water and you gulp air as you greedily fill your lungs. Your head reels and your eyes pound in your skull. Your heart hammers in your chest as you splash away, almost losing your balance several times as your feet slip against the slimy rocks lining the lake bed. You crash into the jagged face of the overlook you had been standing on, digging your back against it as you breathe through your bared teeth. You try to scramble up but it’s too slick to get a good grasp on any of the rocks, and the foliage just slides through your fingers.

You reach up to grab a dagger from your pack, brandishing it at Kreuger who is casually readjusting his veil. He is in no rush to get back to you. Instead, he allows you to tire yourself out as you fruitlessly try to drag yourself from the lake, scuffing up your hands and back in the process.

“If you wanted to see me without the veil you could have asked,” Krueger says, “I would have said no, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“You–” You say through harsh breaths, “You– Why?!”

“It’s not personal… you humans always take everything so personally,” Krueger tuts, “You put up quite the fight… impressive, almost.”

“You’re a monster–” “I am not… well, perhaps I am a monster, but not like that… I am a monster with feelings… that you just hurt.” Krueger tries to trudge towards you but stops as you wave your dagger around, reminding him of what the consequences would be if he got too close, “Do you even care that you hurt them? Ach… who is the real monster. Hm?”

“You!” You scoff, “You are the monster!”

“I am not a monster…” Krueger takes a deep breath, “I am simply… following the natural order of things. I am innocent in all of this.”

“Innocent?!” You exclaim, “Innocent?!”

“Yes, yes, that is what I said I am glad you are listening,” Krueger says, “I am innocent. As are you–”

“You are–” You let out a frustrated yell as you try to clamber out of the water again to no avail.

“I’m what?” Krueger just watches you, amused by your behavior, “I know what you are… a fighter, ja? It’d be so much easier if you accepted this…”

You start to swear at Krueger, cursing him out. You internally curse yourself for having gotten into this situation.

“You’re a murderer,” you say, “How many people–” You can’t even choke out the words through your disgust, “How many?”

“I am no murderer,” he scoffs, “I am simply doing what I am meant to do. I am innocent here, merely a victim of the natural order of things. Murderers kill unlawfully, none of what I do is unlawful as it is according to nature’s laws. I am not a murderer by definition.”

You stare at him with wide eyes and brows knitted in repulsed disbelief, your anger momentarily put on pause, “There is no way you’re being serious.”

“I know what you are thinking,” Krueger’s veil moves as he shakes his head, “I do not want you to be hurt, and I won’t hurt you– I am not cruel, I am not a monster. It wouldn’t hurt… you are not thinking straight… you are just panicking… let me hold you…”

Krueger attempts to move towards you again, reigniting your fury.

“Stop– stop swinging that thing about, you are going to hurt someone.” You almost slash Krueger’s arm as he reaches out towards you causing him to snap at you, “Schluss jetzt!”

He tries to lunge again to grab you. You plunge your dagger into the soft flesh of his inner arm.

“Scheißkerl!” Krueger exclaims as he clutches his arm and stumbles back.

You take your chance and grab onto an exposed tree root, hauling yourself onto the overlook in your adrenaline-fueled haste.

“No!” Krueger growls as he grabs your ankle. You had not noticed his claws, but they were impossible to ignore as they dug into you, surely drawing blood, “No! You will not leave! Stay! Stay with me! Stay!”

You flip yourself onto your back and kick at him, your foot connecting with his head. It barely phases him, only making him more desperate. He climbs further out of the water grasping onto one of your thighs with his hand as he tries to use it as an anchoring point to pull himself up, or pull you down– he wasn’t picky.

“You will die out in that forest!” Krueger says, “I am offering you a peaceful death in my arms–! I am offering you mercy– You should be thanking me–! Do you forget you don’t even have your compass?!”

You grab the strap of your pack with your hands not caring to make sure your belongings are secured before you lift it– far too consumed with your need to survive by any means necessary. Your belongings could be replaced, but you could not. You swing the heavy bag at Kreuger’s head staggering him back and causing him to slide down into the water. You crawl back from the lake securing your pack over your shoulder as you begin to make distance. Krueger screams, all pretenses of civility dead.

“You– you!” Krueger says, “You verdammter Wachbirn!”

You jump to your feet and run from the lake, hoping that you can find your way back to the path– praying that you will make it to your next destination. I’ll be fine, you think, follow the path, simple enough.

You are too focused on escaping from your brush with death to listen to the impotent rage of Krueger. “I could get you if I wanted to! You just aren’t worth the effort– you ungrateful– Ach! When you are delirious from starvation I hope you remember how you denied my offer! How you chose to die alone, painfully,” Krueger calls out, “I hope the last thing you feel is regret!”

Krueger grumbles, his face twitching as he watches you slowly fade from view, obscured by the branches and brambles of the woods. He grips the dagger lodged in his arm and wrenches it out with a grunt, too consumed by anger to even fully take in the pain.

“You left your dagger!” Kruger cries but receives no response.

He turns and throws the dagger as far as he can into the lake with a loud bark of frustration.

He slinks back into the water as he takes in the solitude that has been his only lasting companion, “They’ll be back… they always come back…”

────────────

Translations:

Hallo = Hello Ja = Yes Schade = A pity Verdammt = Damned Bitte = Please Bleib, geh nicht = Stay, don't go Lass dich lieben = Let yourself be loved Scheißkerl = Son of a bitch/Bastard Verdammter Wachbirn = Damned/Fucking Idiot (Austrian term for idiot)

[madmanwonder]

Prompt

Yandere

With Toko stalking Hinata, Genocide Syo is bound to come out. However Toko isn't the only one with a second personality, as Hinata has one as well in Izuru. It is the meeting of two alternate personalities, both dangerous in their own ways.

"Finally. I finally got you where I wanted you to be."

Genocide Syo said in a depraved lovesick voice as she licked her lips as she stared at the man whom she had been stalking over two and half week, just waiting for the right moment to give this handsome hunk of a man her confession via death with her scissors.

"...."

"Got nothing to say to me, Darling~?" Genocide Syo cooed as she twirlinng her signature weapon of choice, lust and love filled her black heart. "Do this mean you are ready for my-"

"How boring." Spoken the deep monotone voice that was far from the shadow which he stepped out revealing...Izuru Kamukura was staring at her with an apathetic expression as he stared at her with boredom-filled red eyes. "How completely and utterly boring this is...." He said to the murderous yandere woman who blinked in surprise at the sudden change of physical appearance and tone of her love...

...but this made the deranged even more deranged as she let out an excited giggle and her pupils were replaced with bright luminous pink hearts.

"This...is going to be so much fun~!" Syo said as she speed toward the man with the murderous intent to express her twisted love toward the man who stared at her with a dead, apathetic expression.

[traegics]

Open Starter - @darkskiesrpgstarters

He'd fought off quiet a few agents, magic coming in quite handy and the strength of his recently triggered wolf gene making light work of each one that came at him. He was doing fine, at least that was until one had come from behind and had started to practically strangle him. His elbow threw back doing his best to fight himself free to no avail before a growl ripped through his frame and vibrated off the walls of the compound. Wolfsbane was infused in the rope, weakening his ability to fight back and he was slowly losing the ability to even breathe. "You better make sure I'm fucking dead," Lucas managed to get out. "Because I will fucking burn your company and everyone in it to the ground if you hurt a single person in my family."

[damagedward]

@merlin-emrys-wyllt

𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔾𝕠

She’s crying , she hates it but there’s nothing else she can seem to manage other than screaming .

How could he just —

Easily apparently .

She had always known she would be too much for anyone to handle , her father had made sure she understood how difficult she was since before she could understand language .

Her eyes flicker , her emotions erratic and therefore her magic .

He had once told her he would never leave , he would be the one to stay no matter what .

But now her hatred against her own brother had become a wedge between them . Arthur always took what was hers so why wouldn’t Merlin choose the more stable sibling to keep as company , friend . Why wouldn’t Arthur take him too ?

The thoughts had been just that — thoughts , a wild mind , nothing serious . But then she had tried to kill her own brother . This would be one of many attempts , the first only for now , something none of them could’ve known or prepared for .

A blind rage and she’d been so close , and now she was locked away , in her chambers but the threat of being shackled or thrown into the dungeon was evident . This was Uther’s way of ‘being nice’ of ‘protecting her’ . As if he wasn’t to blame for her homicidal tendencies .

Then she thinks of who had seen it firsthand .

Merlin ..

He had been the one to catch her in the act , and the look in his eyes — she knew then that he’d found his limit with her .

She cannot even speak to him if she wanted to now she knows , she’s a prisoner to her chambers and if she leaves them she knows she’ll find herself in the tower again . Her own special cell .

Her fingers go to toy with the little pendant around her neck — his . He’d take it back , and all his words and promises now .

Their entire time together had been about risk , of not being caught , and they had managed it so now he could easily just disappear from her life and what could she say ? No one knew .

Once upon a time her magic flaring alone would’ve sent him rushing to her . Now she wonders if he even feels it .

Note : this SL will be angsty , dark , mature & possible triggers please read at your safety . Inspo song below ⬇️

[paines-heart]

One hand shot up, pressing firmly against his neck, his throat, the other covering his mouth as he gasped for air, only for him to find that thick, metallic-tasting liquid was swiftly filing his oral cavity.

He wanted to scream. He tried to scream. But no sound came out. Only the muffled gurgles accompanying his gasping breaths.

Oh.

Merde.

-------------------------------------------------

A drawing based on an RP I'm doing. I'm trying to get back into drawing as I used to, and I've taken a liking to drawing Alastor in my own style. Also, don't worry, he lived. XD

-------------------------------------------------

[DON’T REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION]

[alastors-radioshow]

Truth be told, it had been a while since anyone had been idiotic enough to make an attempt at his life. The stag should have known that it had been too good to be true. A couple of weeks of calm was all he got. Until...

The sound of shattering glass was heard, pieces of one of the windows in his city-based studio fell to the ground as a bullet passed through it. It wouldn't be the first time something as such had occurred. Somehow, miraculously, the stag managed to avoid the first bullet, moving away from his desk towards a gaping void he had conjured up.

An easy escape.

Bang!

The other bullet hit its target and the overlord found himself stumbling through the gateway he'd created, landing on his back on the other side as it closed, leaving a faint crackling in its wake.

One hand shot up, pressing firmly against his neck, his throat, the other covering his mouth as he gasped for air, only for him to find that thick, metallic-tasting liquid was swiftly filing his oral cavity.

He wanted to scream. He tried to scream. But no sound came out. Only the muffled gurgles accompanying his gasping breaths.

Oh.

Merde.

[treesusedtotalktome]

[amiirahloupgarou]

I made another fic! Enjoy!

[herearedragons]

@solas-backpack-mug asked me to explain my Watcher and what I typed out is the best summary of her entire deal I have so far, so. I might as well post it because this is the closest I'm getting to a proper intro post for her

(there's more under the cut. like. a lot more)

[tomboyjessie13-artblog]

I finished the drawing I promised, this took longer than it should've because I've drawn Polnareff fully before nor have I've drawn Avdol, I worked really hard trying to get these two accurate, that and I got distracted by the internet again. That being said, onto the story(I think I created a "Pulp Fiction" scenario with it).

This drawing is a prequel to this: Link, which fully explains how she ended up in the hospital as seen here: Link The drawing here also takes place after this: Link ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After their run in with Mariah and Alessi, the Crusaders and Medea drive back to Aswan from Luxor to rest and tell the hospitalized Kakyoin about their experiences(and poke fun at Medea for her plans backfiring).

During their down time, Medea returns to the hotel to take a shower and get some fresh clothes because she got dirtied up when Jotaro dropped kicked her during the fight in Luxor, with Avdol and Polnareff keeping her company since she's not allowed to be alone(what with being an agent of DIO and all). While in the shower, the body foundation Medea's been using on herself got washed off, revealing a bunch of bite-like welts on her back and her neck, which hurts every time she showers in hot water. 

During which, Medea starts getting a bad feeling that something isn't right, she can't explain it but she feels like something bad is about to happen to her, and [Flogging Molly] urges her to get help, but she refuses to...

It wasn't until she started feeling hot and tired that the feeling start growing worse, and it only escalated further when she starting feeling dizzy, breathless, and cold to the touch, as well as [Flogging Molly] starting to fizz out. That's when she got out of the shower and looked herself in the mirror, she sees that her skin's becoming mottled and pale, and the area around her welts have become redder and darker, she panicked when she realized that these are signs of Blood Poisoning. 

Medea started screaming for help until Polnareff overheard her and was shocked to find her in such a state, Avdol even saw the welts and identified them as Vampire bites. They took her back to the hospital and once inside, Avdol told the others that Medea's sick and needs help.

While examining the infection, they found out that this was caused by DIO(thanks to the SPW Doctors testing the blood and Iggy smelling the bites) as it has Vampiric properties, so Joseph and the SPW Doctors started taking care of this problem until about an hour later, they were able to remove the Vampiric properties with Hamon and stabilize the infection so now it can be treated normally, saving Medea's life. Afterwards, the Crusaders came together and theorized how did this happen and why DIO gave her Blood Poisoning, eventually coming to the conclusion that he infected her with it as a fail safe in case she fails her Mission similar to a fleshbud, and that someone must've ratted her out about her failure(Spoiler Alert: it was Hol Horse but it wasn't his fault), meaning she's no longer useful to DIO. 

When they told Medea this theory, she finally breaks down crying and admits to them how she truly feels about DIO:

She only joined his side just to get revenge on Jason and because she felt bad for him being hurt by Jonathan, but she's more scared of him than she is loyal to him, she never wanted to be involved with his century long grudge nor witness the horrors caused by him and his agents in the first place. 

She also admits to losing her chastity to him months prior, which explains the Vampire bites and why she has to hide them with makeup, she didn't want anyone to find out and calls herself a filthy slut(Polnareff: Don't say that! You're not a slut!).

After hearing this, the group realized that Medea is in serious danger and in pain, so they have to admit her to the hospital with Kakyoin. While Jotaro commented that they now don't have a mole, Avdol mentions that her safety and recovery is the highest priority right now, they would have to find DIO's Mansion by themselves. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Medea King belongs to me

[deathmimedream]

Nightmare: Copia

He’d finally gotten to bed, and to sleep after an exhausting day of work, and hours of tossing and turning in his too-small bed.

He had been run ragged by imperator, then Nihil and even the former two papas as well.

He’d barely managed a shower before dragging himself into pajamas then to bed.

The sky was barely turning brighter as the sun rose, when he began to stir, disturbing one of the many cats that slept on the bed with him at night.

There were so many strays around the ministry, he just gave them free reign to wander his room or office.

Despite their numbers, Cardi could always tell them apart.

He felt the cat vacate the bed, and moved to rub sleep from his eyes…

…only to realize he couldn’t move his hands.

His eyes were focused on first one, then his other wrist, in disbelief.

They had been bound firmly against his headboard with black silk ropes.

He’d also been gagged tightly with a equally black silk scarf, cutting his grumbled protests to muffled squeaks and groans.

He hadn’t taken anyone to bed, not in ages, and so this wasn’t some sort of kinky aftermath.

he thrashed in a panic against his bindings. He didn’t understand what had happened to wake up like this, but he didn’t like it.

In the shadows of his small room he saw Primo, scowling down at him, Secondo glaring with open hatred, and Terzo, Terzo who had always been so kind, looking at him with just as much animosity as his brothers.

Cardi didn’t understand what was happening, even as the trio moved closer, watching the cardinal struggle to escape his bindings.

He remembered he had showered and changed for bed, but he was now fully redressed in his Cardinal blacks, his usual cassock, laying on top of his fully made bed.

His eyes went wide as he realized each of them held a serrated dagger, causing Cardi to shriek into the gag, arching and squirming in further panic to escape.

He didn’t understand what was happening, but he didn’t like this. Not at all.

The trio stood, silent, waiting.

Cardi quickly wore himself out, leaving him sweaty and panting, only able to watch in horror as…Terzo grabbed his head by the hair, and removed it fully from his body.

The cardinal’s eyes rolled back up into his head with a soft groan as he fell into a dead faint at the sight.

He must not have been out very long, because it was still dawn, and the trio of Emeritus were still there, whispering to each other, too low for the bound Cardinal to hear.

Well, Terzo wasn’t whispering. His severed head was watching him from the bedside table in silence.

Cardi whimpered, renewing his futile attempts to free himself. Terzo’s head growled at him, and that got primo and Secondo to turn, along with Terzo’s headless body.

Primo pointed the tip of his blade at the cardinal.

“You aren’t worthy, you filthy little half-blooded mongrel.” He left a cut along Copia’s cheek as if to punctuate the hurtful words.

Secondo moved closer too, blade held tightly.

“You’re a plague upon the ministry, you useless, pandering little rat. You’ll only bring ruin and disorder.” His blade went right through Cardi’s left thigh, pinning his leg to the bed.

Copia’s scream was little more than a pained, muffled squeal, struggling against the ropes hard enough his wrists were bruised, and skin tore, blood dribbling into his sleeves uncomfortably.

Terzo’s head glared at him, as his eyes pleaded, looking to his friend and confidante for any signs of mercy from his torture, but there was nothing.

Just anger.

Terzo’s headless body stood, carefully adjusting his hold on the blade.

The claw-tipped hand not holding the dagger gently smothed itself along his abused cheek, the thumb wiping away blood, and the tears Cardi hadn’t noticed he’d been crying. The hand moved to stroke his hair, as if soothing a child.

“Everything is your fault. You will be our murderer. Now, it’s your turn. We will cleanse the bloodline of your disease.”

Cardi’s leg throbbed from the blade still shoved through it, and all he could manage was a strangled whimper as Terzo’s hand fisted in his hair, and the knife sawed into his throat.

He awoke, screaming and clutching his neck, to sun streaming in his windows, and at least four cats running for cover at the noise.

He blinked, dragging his hands over his face, wiping at tears as he slowly reassured himself he was fine.

Just a nightmare.

Nightmares couldn’t hurt you.. right?

He gave a small whimper as he looked at his hands, noticing his bruised wrists.

Ohhh, fuck.

[madmanwonder]

Ask

Law and Crime: Criminal- Mafia AU

How would the Branwen Mafia Head herself Raven deal with a woman named Summer getting too close to "her man" Tai?

"Tyrian will take 'care' of the red-haired whore." Raven replied in a icily calm voice, red eyes narrowed in a sharp glare.