#a more stable and well adjusted killer maybe

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I always see horror breaking up fights between killer and murder but what if killer actually broke up the dog fights between horror and murder lmao.

just the image of him pulling them apart by their hoods or the collars of their shirts so hard they start choking once their bickering (re: trying to tear eachother apart limb from limb and literally mauling eachother) becomes less amusing to watch and more irritating to hear. probably does some shit like tossing one of them to the floor and like stepping on their chest to keep them down if they try to go at it again

but of course it is its responsibility to patch both of them up anyway. maybe he makes them patch eachother up instead while he watches to make sure one of them doesn’t start digging fingers into wounds

[slay00ryu]

can you do some Ronin with a yandere mc? we need more of that, you can be as creative as you like!, lots of love! Ronins pretty princess!

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・☆・・・・☆

Sweet Killer Obsession

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・☆・・・・☆

Tw!!!

murder

blood & gore

yandere, possessiveness, obsession

a whole ass making out session

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・☆・・・・☆

Never once in your life would you think that blood would stain your hands again, but here you are a knife in your hand, blood all over your clothes and a massacred body right at your feet. it felt somewhat refreshing, especially after you got rid of that bitch who dared to flirt with your Ronin. Oh how much you enjoyed killing her, her screams and cries were like music to your ears.

This made you feel nostalgic. Long before you were known as Y/N and were an official citizen of America, you were known under a different name and lived in a small village in Japan. Why did you change your identity? Well... Being a well known serial killer who's real name could be revealed at any given moment wasn't a perfect situation, even if being found out felt exciting.

A few years prior to this situation you were known as ███████, a young Japanese high school student with a really tiny obsession about your previous crush. This obsession was so small that you killed him and seven other people who dared to breath too close to him. Well... no one said that you were normal, right? In any case, after brutally murdering your crush and his so called girlfriend - a whore who didn't deserve him. You lost all your interest in him, your feelings just turned off like light when you flick the light switch. Maybe it was because of how boring he was? You will never know.

After asking nicely - threatening - one of your criminal friends to give you a fake name and register you as an american citizen studying journalism, you faked the death of your past self and moved on. It took you a few years to get adjusted to the new lifestyle, but you didn't hate it. You had a somewhat stable job and a new interest in writing.

The rest of the story of how you met the killers and started a romantic relationship wasn't something so interesting, Ronin added you to his server after your interesting question on the dark web, then teased you and played with you, only to make you fall for him and corrupt your "innocent little mind".

At least you stayed innocent in his eyes until you started following him like his shadow, or breaking into his house to "borrow' something that belonged to him. Ronin wouldn't get too angry if one of his clothes or accessories went missing, how could he ever get mad at such a cute partner?

Ronin wasn't blind, he saw just how possessive and obsessive you were, and he enjoyed it, he basked it in and was intrigued about how far you would go for him. He didn't have to wait long.

One day you sent a picture on #killer_shit, a picture of a massacred body. Ronin recognised the body's owner, it was a man who asked Ronin to fix his car some time ago. On the same day he tried to ask him out on a date, his try wasn't successful when suddenly you emerged from behind his car and clung onto Ronin, if looks could kill then that guy would be laying dead next to his car at least that's how Ronin saw it.

"Guess your look really killed him." He said to himself, a dark chuckle left his mouth as he looked at your fresh kill.

Something didn't add up in Ronin's head for a while, especially with the new pictures that were flooding the server. They all seemed like they've been done by someone with a lot of experience, but you weren't a killer before. There was nothing on you when he looked up your name.

One day he decided to ask you about it while you and the other server members were on a call.

"Hey darlin', what did you say your killer name was?" Ronin's voice caught your attention and his question caused everyone to get silent,

"(Killer name), why?" You answered in that sweet tone you used when you were confident about something. What could possibly make you so confident?

Well, the answer was fairy simple - there was nothing on the name you gave him, but that name wasn't fake. It was your actual killer name from your dark past but in the English language, and the Japanese authorities made sure that your existence was a secret for the rest of the world. How would the country's reputation look if the rest of the world found out that a murderer from a small village went missing right under their noses?

"There's nothing on you, I checked it many times." V's stern and cold voice reached your ears and you chuckled.

"Aw, that's so cute that you're trying to find me out, but I'm not lying. You just have to look deeper." You answered and hang up, leaving the killers hungry for more knowledge.

Well, V took that challenge very personally. He searched the whole internet to look for any hint about who you truly were, and that's when it hit him... that name was a translation! He double checked the "works' of art" pictures that you shared with the server and then he found it.

<@K9>: https://japanessepolicecases.net

<@K9>: Found you @Y/N.

You checked the server after you heard some notifications coming from the media channel. You laughed uncontrollably. Yes, finally! Something to make Ronin see your true colours.

<@h1tmeupp>: oh fuck! You were the (killer name)?!

<@h1tmeupp>: you're a mystery even today and this was like seven years ago!!!

<@Y/N>: What can I say? I always liked being a walking mystery ;)

Almost everyone replied to the news. Everyone, but Ronin. His lack of attention made you uneasy. He was online when V revealed who you are, so why hasn't he replied? He should be proud right? You proved that you're interesting. So why the fuck isn't he replying?!

While your head was full of chaos and the images of different scenarios of Ronin betraying you, there was a sudden noise in your kitchen. You stood up from your chair and grabbed the knife from your desk. Holding it behind your back you left your room and quietly went to see who dared to break into your home.

You weren't worried about yourself, but what if someone saw your small and beautiful altar made for Ronin? No one other than you was allowed to see just how handsome he was on those pictures you worked so hard to take unnoticed.

When you reached your kitchen there was no one, not a single open window or moved piece of kitchen equipment. As you were about to turn around and leave, two strong arms wrapped around you, one held you by your waist and the other was holding your mouth shut.

It's Ronin.

You would recognise that scent of smoke mixed with some motor oil anywhere. Oh how addicting that scent was.

"I see you've come prepared baby." He whispered against your neck and you could feel your whole body melt and shiver. You couldn't answer, but you didn't mind. You wanted to see where this new game would go.

Ronin loved to test you, and you knew that. You would do anything to amuse him or earn yourself a praise, so you indulged him every time he tried to push your limits.

"So you're a serial killer, that's interesting." He moved the hand from your mouth to your neck. "And to think that I took you for an innocent writer." His laugh was dark, definitely unsettling for some people, but to you? You could listen to that sound on repeat.

"i never said that I wasn't Ro.' You replied with a small giggle. "it was you who assumed my innocence." your voice was sickly sweet, just like some good little saint's.

"Oh, you're so smart. Such a small tease." Ronin turned you around and pinned you to the wall. "Your murders are so pretty darlin', just for me. It makes me want to kiss my knife to your throat." He whispered against your parted lips.

That wasn't a threat, that was a love confession in Ronin's style.

His words and the closure made a shiver run down your back. You looked into Ronin's eyes, basically begging this devilish man to kiss you.

And he was willing to fulfill your wish.

"You're so eager." He teased and then his lips crushed into yours.

That kiss felt hot, it made your whole body melt into his touch. You held him by his leather jacket in one hand and you were basically pulling on his hair with the other. That sudden movement earned you a muffled groan from Ronin.

He didn't stay in debt and pushed his hand under your shirt to dig his nails into your waist. You gasped into his mouth and he used that opportunity to push his tongue into your opened mouth. This heated dance of your tongues was enough to drive you crazy, but Ronin's hands under your shirt? Oh that was paradise.

You bit Ronin's lower lip, pulling on it so hard that the both of you felt the metallic taste of blood on your tongues, but he didn't break the kiss yet. He chuckled and squeezed his hand on your waist, pulling your body even closer to his.

This kiss was heated, deep and long. Ronin's beanie was somewhere on the floor and your bodies were pressed against each other. You felt like this moment was heaven. Having Ronin so close to you? That was a dream come true. If it wasn't for you two needing air then you could go even longer and maybe this situation would grow even more intimate.

Ronin broke the kiss, a thick string of silva wasn't the only sign of what just happened. Your cheeks were burning red and you struggled to catch your breath, he leaned his forehead against yours and smirked while he was watching the aftermath of your kiss.

"Oh you're so pretty like this, breathless and in love." He murmured and rubbed your side with his thumb.

"Only the devil can ruin me like this." You replied and suddenly pulled his head back by his hair so you could lick the leftover blood from his lips.

"Oh? Maybe there's even a cannibal in you." He joked and smirked at your pout. "Never said I don't like them." He whispered and moved his head to the crook of your neck to leave a mark there.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・☆・・・・☆

Find God kids.

It's too late, we're all sinners here.

Love you, bye!

- N<3

[maka-moved]

having some more thoughts about postal 1

p1 dude is such an interesting character in my opinion because he's not a sympathetic character at all, yet at the same he... kinda is?

like, there's nothing that could justify what dude ultimately decided to do, at the end of the day he's still a spree killer, he's someone who voluntarily decided to go out and take other people's lives. however, there's still something bone-achingly tragic about someone who is so hurt and desperate that they feel like murder is the only option they have left (at least, to me there is).

of course that's not true, but to him it was, and subjective truths can be so much stronger than objective reality. it's the result of what i can only imagine must've been the perfect storm of trauma, the outcome of growing up in what was likely an abusive religious household, cut off from the rest of the world and any support networks he could've had. it's never stated anywhere in the game, nor is any real information given about dude's backstory at all (other than what's written in his diary/war journal), but it's hard to believe that dude grew up in a stable or healthy environment.

this isn't to say that dude's upbringing or mental state is the sole reason as to why he ended up snapping, but he couldn't have possibly been a healthy or well adjusted person even before the massacre. it isn't fair to treat p1 as though he's without autonomy or to refuse to hold him accountable for his (undoubtedly heinous) actions, but it'd also be doing a disservice to his character to not acknowledge the traumas that influence his motivations and worldview.

it's this pointed duality that is what defines p1 to me, the fact that he is multiple, often clashing, things at once. he's a cruel, sadistic bastard who hurts people as a means of exerting power and control over his life, yet he's also someone who's scared and suffering and lashing out in pain like a wounded animal. he's callous and uncaring towards the agony of others, but he's still concerned with doing the right thing and warning others of the "infection" despite everything else he's done. he's practically a shambling bundle of contradictions in a trench coat, and that's precisely what makes him so intriguing to me.

the funny part about all of this is that it probably wasn't even intentional on developer's part. the inconsistencies in dude's character almost definitely just because the people over at RWS didn't think too hard about all this, but in the process they accidentally made an incredibly interesting and oddly nuanced character.

i dunno, maybe i'm looking too deep into things, but those are just my thoughts.

[ireallyliketalldarksultrymen]

it's like you said. tati was a child soldier, bit somehow, ive seen her been called "the most well adjusted" or just assumed to be more mentally stable than curt. granted, that's probably not a high bar, but it bothers me. this girl was a trained killer from the age of.. four, maybe? give or take a few years. she outright says that she was a weapon. she's been dehumanized and treated like a weapon, and this started before she was 13. but yeah. she's probably the most well adjusted in a group of badly adjusted people.

(im sorry for rambling in your inbox i just have a lot of feelings)

this is the best thing i’ve read today—she was used as a weapon in her childhood, forced to leave her family (and like tati said, even visiting them puts them in danger of getting hurt or killed) and she’s assumed to being doing okay mentally, which doesn’t really sit right with me!! everyone in the show has been through a lot, and tati needs to be acknowledged in that collective!

also no worries for rambling logan! i like hearing and replying to people’s thoughts :3

[retphienix]

I haven't played too much today thus far since I'm confined to solo queue and solo play today (oof) but some opinions on some of the adjustments.

Short version: Looking forward to much much more and thoroughly enjoying what I've tried on difficulties 4~8 range (I don't like soloing helldive since I feel tunneled to stealth and jack of all trades loadouts- so not bothering)

Punisher: MUCH better place than it once was and arguably is just where it should be in terms of how primaries are balanced. It does it's job and does it well as an ammo stable slightly harder hitting but slightly more accuracy demanding Breaker. I think I love it? But I am still holding out for the pseudo med armor pen of the slugger once I get that thing (bought it while typing this).

Heavy Laser: MUCH more fun and useful than it was. I actually never considered the "intended use" the devs claimed for pre-patch, it was a damn poor version of a Machine Gun- infinite ammo or not. But as a medium armor pen weapon it definitely shows a lot more promise and effective utility in a loadout.

But.

It kinda still falls into a middle ground between "swarm clearing" and "heavy targeting" that's a bit awkward- definitely has potential in a squad but not something I would recommend to anyone playing solo like I was.

It instantly melts through any medium armor targets like hefty bugs or most bot targets, but it's still entirely useless against heavy armor and as such struggles to tickle chargers outside of post-charge which is the same period of time when literally any weapon can tear them down so- it has found "a place" but that place is strictly medium armor clearing and slight ammo efficiency buff to your other weapons. DECENT buff, definitely needs some more in my opinion- perhaps a complete rework of lasers in general would help as some have posed that "heat" weapons should melt off armor with extended contact. Purely hypothetical, but that'd do it.

Stick to unsafe-charged railguns for heavy stuff, if you're so inclined. (or any other option, I'm just pointing at the recently-brought-in-line-but-still-extremely-effective option)

Flamethrower: 10x more fun and effective, still demands team play or it slacks. The thing does nearly immediately kill anything in its flames that isn't heavily armored. Not sure what people claiming it does well against chargers are on about- unless they mean in team play where nothing else is involved.

In a "literal 1 v 1" with no distractions I think it'd do alright- it acts like the arc thrower in just "doing damage" and not super caring about the armor, but just like the arc thrower it's not an armor destroying monster- it takes TIME to kill the charger (10~ shots of an arc thrower can do it and I find that far more reliable than using a flamethrower).

But, I was solo and dealing with swarms AND chargers, so maybe in that 1v1 scenario it can melt their health bar reasonably, I can't say after 1 field test.

Now, the flamethrower does not in any way need to be an armor killer, I'm just mentioning it as it's one of the two things I tested against. It's MILES better against adds now, but it's not magically a charger killer- it just "can" do the job. Good buff! Still holding out that they implement some CC to fire damage so that enemies are staggered/scared by flames!

120kg barrage: Eeeeh. It's definitely 300% better than it was, for reference the 120 and 380 were fucking useless prior- their gimmick of "A barrage of explosions over a HUGE area" just didn't serve a real purpose in gameplay- not to mention they didn't even, you know, "barrage" an area, they kinda just went "This 9000 square feet area? We're gonna drop... hmmm.... 3 fire crackers in there randomly. Hope that helps!"

NOW, the 120 is actually pretty nice at softening up some objectives because it actually stayed near the intended target area. I tossed one onto 2 different egg batches and saw it genuinely soften up the area- nearly solo'd one 40~ egg batch on its own while killing a lot of the enemies in the area and even knocking out a nest or two I believe. It ACTUALLY serves a nice purpose of "slightly big area getting softened up".

Now, the utility of that depends on what other strategems people bring, but I know my preference for such things would pick something like the orbital barrage for its spammable cannon spray over this thing- but at least it WORKS now- I can see this actually helping!

Shield backpack: It's still insanely good. I genuinely think this is "almost" the perfect nerf because I can't say I think it's entirely overpowered anymore, but I can say it's still an incredibly versatile "get out of jail free" card that skips staggers and damage more often than it doesn't.

I genuinely think increasing its recharge delay in and out of "shield break" did well to make it no longer a borderline invincibility tool that you feel obligated to have at all times on higher difficulties- opening the way to more backpack options in my opinion. Kinda.

Because I said "almost". It's still an insanely useful tool and I still can't rightly say I'd prefer a backpack weapon over it, but perhaps I'm being a coward for disliking sudden slows from hunter tongues. In truth, that's a skill issue now ain't it, I simply think until we have more options to avoid stagger/slow or "ignore a damage source every now and then" like the shield does- the backpack will remain HIGHLY valuable to almost-if-not-certain overpowered degrees.

Still a good nerf in my opinion.

Liberator Concussive: It just got a name change don't go expecting anything. It's still bad and nothing changed beyond getting a much better name.

Railgun: I don't use railgun like at all, but I know what it did (and used a handful of times) prior to the patch and I have seen/heard what it does post patch. Sounds like it now HAS to overcharge to unsafe ranges to accomplish the same thing it did pre-patch in safe.

So like.

That means it's literally the same as it was pre-patch except you have to put some skill, timing, and positioning (to have time to charge) into using it, lol, sounds like a good nerf to me. If you want backpack-less armor pen with ammo to spare then it's still the tool to pick, you just have to use unsafe all the time now which seems more than fair when every other weapon has to be used intelligently to succeed. lmao

Breaker: It literally lost 3 rounds and some max ammo, big whoop lol

Still need to test the 380 and I plan to run the railgun for a few 7-8-9 runs to get a real feel for this new "actually try" era of railgun, but overall I like most of what we got adjusted.

Oh, and the spray and pray, but I'm not holding my breath much. I mean it's DEFINITELY gonna be better than the unusable state it was in, but it's also just not the weapon I'd strive to use much anyway so I'll certainly test it but I don't expect much.

I'm still looking forward to MUCH more in terms of balance adjustments, as I think many are, but I enjoyed what's here.

Also armor works now. It's underwhelming, but I'll be completely honest, I kind of expected as much because speed > armor in 90% of games so I figured armor would get fixed and still not really impact higher difficulty play much.

Maybe later adjustments will make it matter more? But for now it's still "Be fast, bro." and that's fine enough.

[the-coffee-story]

Rise of the Forest God

Chapter 17 - Professor Tally Winchester

Winchester Hall was a beautiful, dark Victorian mansion á lá Addams Family that rested proudly upon the tallest hill around. The windows, grey with age and dust were tall and skinny and a rusted iron gate, with weathered carvings now indistinguishable rested half swallowed by dirt and uncut blades of long dry grass. The whole thing blended rather well with the crawling forest behind it.

The team was waiting by the gate, curious and giddy with half-numbed nervousness.

"Well, now I'm definitely interested," Walther commented, peeking through the towering, rusted gate. "This looks like it's haunted by at least three ghosts who died a horrible death. They never found the heads."

October laughed.

"Seriously October, imagine the Addams Family's mansion, now scale it down a little."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can't wait for Morticia to pop out."

"Well, Morticia was definitely not on the phone," Violet noted.

Suddenly, the carved, dark-oak door that rested comfortably in the centre of the home's front opened, and a young man peeked out, adjusting his glasses as he took a moment to assess the situation. After a few moments passed, he noticed the team waiting by the gate, waved to wordlessly grab their attention, and quickly scuttled over.

Tally Winchester was a medium-heighted, slender and bald individual with large, wildly blue eyes behind thick glasses and a countless amount of scattered silver piercings dotted in and around his earlobe. Despite the fact that it was it had just dawned early spring, his skin was sunburnt and tanned, as if he spent most of his days somewhere lost outside. He walked with a noticable limp, and Walther didn't need to wait long for an explanation, when a prosthetic briefly appeared between his worn brown converse sneakers and faded jeans.

"Hi!" He flashed a toothy smiled at the group and opened the gate. "Great to see you, I'm Professor Tally Winchester!" He shook everyone's hands as they trickled past. The sleeves of his petrol flannel were rolled up, revealing a rather out-of-place, faded tattoo of a crawling lizard and a bunch of old scars. "You can call me Tally though."

Violet held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Violet, we talked on the phone."

"Great to meet you all!" He grinned. "Are you coming inside?"

***

"Before anyone asks, I inherited the house," Tally explained while leading them upstairs. "It's rotten and I hate it and the bills are a naked horror but I doubt I can find anything that has more capacities for a library." He opened a door. "Intrate, everyone."

"Remarkable," Doc commented.

Remarkable was indeed an understatemt. The room they'd entered was a library- with a beautiful brick fireplace and huge windows that let in the sparse afternoon sun, bookshelves brushed against the webbed ceiling and sunk into every wall. The floor was carpeted, through incredibly uncomfortable to walk on, and the furniture antique. One wall was plastered with photographs and notes.

"Nice," Walther mumbled, taking the second to once again soak in their surroundings.

Tally grinned, idly brushing aside pages and old notes compromised of incomprehensible scribbles and drawings. His teeth were somewhat crooked. "I didn't replace any of the furniture, but I did sell a chunk of the old books. There was just no space for mine." He closed the door behind them. "So anyway, you wanted to know about the cult?"

"There's been a bunch of murders in Forest Lane that were eerily similar to what it did, so yeah." Thasfield shrugged his broad shoulders. "We suspect the cult might be involved."

"Oh, I heard about that on the news!" Tally sorted the files on the table until he found what he was looking for. Then he looked up. His face was serious now. "At this point I'd like to admit I have a slightly selfish motivation in this."

"What is it?", Violet asked.

"You see..." Tally leaned against the table. "For context, I'm a history professor, but my focus is on cryptids and modern legends. Historical context, potential explanations, yada yada. A few years ago I stumbled across the legend of the Forest God."

Walther's face lit up. "Oh, I remember that story, my parents used to tell it to me when I was a kid! This one guy got lost in the woods, was found dead and after his funeral his reanimated corpse came home and his wife who loved him very, very much-" They side-eyed Violet and Coffee, who in turn glared back. "-couldn't accept that maybe it's not exactly normal that your husband's corpse is vibing around, then after a while he started killing people, then he killed her and then the neighbours buried him in an iron casket in the woods so he would stop randomly murdering people. Right?"

"You summed it up." Tally nodded.

"But who believes in that?!" Violet frowned. "I mean... it's just a legend, right? Somebody finally snapped, had a rough week or something, and people straight up believe his bullshit?"

"He came back from the dead and started murdering people, Violet," Doc commented.

She shrugged dismissively. "We've all been there."

"I don't want to meet you after a bad week," Tally remarked with mild discomfort, absentmindedly flipping through pages of notes and nonsense. "The existence of the man who allegedly became the Forest God is proven. His name was Eustace Wyndham and if you ask me he had rabies and some things were added for drama. But that's not even relevant, because the cult came almost a hundred years later." He slid around the table and opened another scattered file. "1969 they started to worship the Forest God. At first it was nothing special, you know, just the average college student nonsense." He held up an old photograph, subtle wonder in his eyes as he stared into it, before handing it to Walther. "Here, you can take a look at this! That's the entire cult. The guy in purple with the long hair is one of the founders. The other founder left in 1970 after getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. I caught him for an interview five years ago. Lovely guy, sadly died of cancer shortly after. It's a shame. You can pass the photo around! Notice how they're all wearing cow parsley wreaths. That was the flower associated with the Forest God and the flower scattered all over their murder victim's body, or rather what was left of it."

"All the victims had cow parsley in their mouth," Doc realized, dragging a hand up to rest in his soft ginger curls, staring blankly into the distance, thinking.

Tally nodded hastily. "Exactly! And now please look at what I found on my windowsill this morning!"

He limped over to the tallboy, half relying on the nearby furniture for support. Leaning down and throwing open a drawer, after a short while of sifting through papers and photographs, he took out something else. Then he held it up.

It was a wreath of cow parsley.

"That's....not good," Walther murmured after a long moment of stunned silence.

Tally nodded, twirling the flowers between his thumb and forefinger. "You get it. You know..." He leaned heavily against a dusty, worn table and heaved a small sigh. "When Wilhelm called me at first I was very sceptical of it all. I'm not a group project person, if you know what I mean. But this is just the tip of the ice berg and I have a feeling that I might be next, so I decided to work with you." He shrugged his shoulders.

While he'd been talking, Coffee had been furiously typing. He handed Tally his phone and Tally read it out loud.

" 'How about we use you as a bait?' Um... Can you...can you please explain what exactly you mean? That doesn't sound particularly safe-!"

He handed Coffee's phone back to him, paranoid he might accidentally drop it, and the detective started typing an answer, this time with significantly more determination.

Hear me out. So my idea was basically that tonight we let the killer come, but were going to be prepared. In other words, we gather a big group that's going to protect you, and we're going to arrest the murderer once he's here. What do you think?

Tally hesitated for a short moment and chewed his lip, opening his mouth to reply, then closing it again.. "I mean... I guess you have a point, sooner or later he's going to get me either way."

"I mean, let's be real, you can't run forever," Thasfield said, leaning forwards. "Even if you move, it's still going to take a while, and judging by what we know you're being pretty actively stalked, so it's quite possible he'll just follow you and then you'll be killed by a Forest God in a hotel room in Central Graytown. Which probably makes for an interesting plotline in a noir film, but we're talking real life here and I highly doubt you're so keen on landing in the morgue anytime soon. Although the Doctor is an expert at autopsies."

Doc smirked.

".........yeah," Tally admitted. He sat down on the table and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, that sounds...icky but realistic." He closed his eyes took a deep breath. "Alright. Who's gonna be on this team?"

Doc's phone's rang loudly to shake up their newfound confidence, and he excused himself, stepping back into the dusty hallway to take the call.

"I mean, most of us for starters," Violet said. "But I was also thinking of grabbing Gary Fox and Wilhelm. Strength in number, you know?"

Doc eventually came back to the group. His weathered face was stricken with subtle anxiety. "Bad news."

"What is it?", Walther asked.

"Alice found her mailman by the stables."

Walther frowned. "Okay, and what's so special about that?"

"His left arm was by the stables. The rest of him was scattered across the field."

"Dear God, is he okay?"

"He's okay, but he's dead." Doc turned to Tally, lowering his voice just enough. "Can we settle on tonight?"

Tally nodded. His sunburnt face had notably paled, turning his skin a somewhat pasty yellow. "Sure. What time are y'all coming?"

"Is five o'clock alright with you?"

Tally shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

White Lies || Thomas Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “ Can you do 10&13 with tommy please? I obsessed with your writing” (Thank you honey, hope this won’t let you down ♡ )

Summary: n.10 & 13 from prompt list: “I swear to God, I’ll blind you” + “Don’t leave” Warnings: swearing, May Carleton insert, basically jealous reader, Tommy being the absolute cocky bastard he always is, me loving him even more

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, May appears in this piece too, even if she’s never been his lover.   Is Tommy Shelby going to generate a mass murder with his cock? Maybe.

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Your sugar paper dress in lace and tulle gracefully fluttered in the wind, as you walked towards the Garrison, head up, a kind smile on your face and your right arm firmly placed on John’s left one.  That same morning, Tommy’s new horse had won his third race in a row, for which reason the Shelbys had decided to have a little party at their pub, so that they could celebrate those amazing successes with their friends and closest fellows from Birmingham, seizing, at the same time, the opportunity to show to the whole town how the family was getting more and more powerful. Therefore, Finn, Michael and John were now escorting you and Polly to the tavern, where the rest of the Peaky Blinders had already got the festivities started. “If you ever get tired of Tommy, keep in mind that I’m here waiting for you, darling” The middle brother playfully whispered those flirty words into your ear, even though he was truly enchanted by the way you looked that night; you immediately glimpsed in his direction, seeing him keep an alluring smirk on his wonderful face and a toothpick held between his rose lips, just like always. A genuine chuckle spilled from your mouth because of his joke, a slight blush instantly covering your sweet face, while your lips promptly left a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about him, Johnny, we can keep it as our little secret” You blinked at him, still giggling out loud, as you entered the Garrison arm in arm, finding a whole crowd of half-drunk people joyfully cheering for the increasing greatness and fortune of the Shelby Brothers Limited. “And that’s Thomas’s definition of small refreshment?” Polly’s usual sarcastic tone prickly referred to the massive amount of guests your fiancé had apparently invited; she lit a cigarette, carelessly throwing the used match on the floor, before her free forearm fondly stretched out to Michael, in a silent invitation to accompany her towards the table where Arthur had already made himself comfortable. Finn, on the other hand, immediately spotted Isaiah amidst the throng, for it took him a scant moment to literally run in his direction, eager as he was to finally spend a night out with his best mate, forgetting about work for a while. “Would you mind helping me find your perennially busy brother, mh?” You asked John, since you were now alone, standing at the entrance like two complete idiots, withouth a clue about what to do next. “Why don’t you come home with me instead?” His eyebrows quickly raised and lowered several times, in an intentionally droll attempt to make that indecent proposal sound tempting, his usual cocky smile never leaving his face. “Oh, shut up now!” you heartily laughed, jokingly punching his shoulder in the process “Let’s just find him, and then you’ll look for a pretty girl to dance with”

“No need to look for girls, love, they throw themselves at me” Your almost-brother-in-law defiantly stated that, while adjusting his houndstooth suit in one swift move, his large shoulders lifted along with his lower lip, giving life to an expression of pure smugness, which esponentially boosted when he found his way to the middle of the pub, performing his usual, cheeky, extremely bold walk. John’s lean and solid body shielded yours as you passed through that enormous amount of people, until you eventually reached for the cluttered counter; your watchful eye immediately caught Tommy’s figure standing with his back turned, a loving grin inadvertently springing upon your red lips, for he had left early that morning without waking you up, and, although it may seem corny, you had shamelessly missed him. Nevertheless, your jaw nearly dropped when, taking a few more steps in his direction, a beautiful woman entered your line of sight: she was talking to him, her clearly infatuated stare burning with desire, one of her palms randily caressing his bony cheek, but the worst part was that Thomas didn’t make a single move to stop her, he just stood there, listening to what she was saying, letting her pet his face. “Oh, fucking hell” John muttered, foreseeing a catastrophic epilogue to that risky situation, indeed, he was perfectly aware that you had no idea of who May was, moreover he could plainly tell she was without a doubt attracted to his brother, which meant no good, considering that you were in the same country as her. Still, before he had the chance to stop you from doing anything, you had already covered the gap between you and them, approaching your fiancé and heavily tapping on his shoulder covered by an elegant black jacket.

Tom’s icy eyes imperceptibly widened as he turned to you and realized how misunderstandable that scene could look; however, within a fraction of a second, he composed himself and regained all of his customary confidence, curving his mouth into an impertinent smirk and placing a hand behind your back, so to guide you in front of the mysterious lady. “Oh, you must be y/n, Tommy’s told me a lot about you! I’m May, May Carleton” Her falsely excited voice brusted out, preceding both of you, and that alone could’ve been enough to set you off, you were aching to ruthlessly punch her in the face, right there and then, yet your strong common sense led you to simply send her a long, eloquent death glare. “Well, he didn’t tell me anything about you, not a word” Perceptible hostility towards that woman infected your tone, still, while you spat that rancorous reply, your killer attention was utterly focused on Thomas, who, for his part, kept looking at you with amusement, blatantly revelling in your jealous little scene. “I didn’t have a chance to” His husky voice nonchalantly spilled from his full lips, whereon he was unchastely sliding a cigarette filter, his piercing black pupils continued to defiantly nail yours as he aimed to provoke you with that silly, senseless remark. Teeth sinking into the warm flesh of your inner cheek, while you tried your best to avoid a beastly outburst in front of everyone; sadly, hardly any moment later, May unwisely decided to throw more salt on your already stinging wounds. “How funny, I’ve been training your horses for three months now” a galling laugh of mockery eurpted from her throat and, once she was sure she had your attention, you noticed raw mischief twinkling in her brown irises “With excellent results, I might add”

She raised the glass of champagne she was holding, along with a hint of her head in Tommy’s direction, inviting him to make a toast to their incredible series of victories; a shrill tinkle filled your ears when his crystal cup joined hers, almost making your skin crawl, you watched speechless and powerless as a seductive expression deliberately contaminated his stunning features. “Obviously. Nothing but the best for my horses”

You just couldn’t believe your eyes, nor your ears; an alarming amount of emotions assaulting your defenseless mind, as you eventually figured out how many lies he had been feeding you during those past months. Soon after he had brought his first mare at the auction, Tommy specifically talked to you about how many expectations and resources he had placed on that brand new project, to the point of actually enlisting an expensive horse trainer, one of their comrades from France, a man they could trust, he did say. Your brain franticly reviewed all of the episodes in which he had called you to inform that he would’ve been late, for he had to stop by the stables in order to check on his beasts; a grievous boulder growing inside your chest, brutally crushing your heart, at the very thought of what could’ve effectively happened in those evenings, your breathing sharply stopped for endless instants, until you regained control of your body, blinking a few times to stop the world from spinning around you. Not a single world escaped your mouth, you only looked at them for one last time, before you hastened to turn tail and run away from that obnoxious situation. Only then, Thomas factually realized he’d gone too far with you, his vigilant stare followed your silhouette quickly moving amidst that mob of drunken yokels, while he briefly took leave of May, without even glimpsing at her once. Pushing and kicking his way through the crowd, he reached for you when you were practically one step away from the main door.

“C’mon, y/n, wait! Hey, don’t leave” Tom delicately grabbed your forearm in an attempt to hold you back, but, as soon as you saw him touching you, a calamitous rage exploded in your belly, leading you to violently yank your arm away. “Take your hands off me, or I swear to God, I’ll bind you with your own fucking cap!” Eyelids squeezing with autentic ire as you snarled in his face, fiercely smacking his hand several times and managing to get out of his grasp; yet, when you tried to leave the pub afresh, his imposing frame promptly interposed between you and the exit, his left palm firmly leaning against the jamb, so to cover the whole open space and preclude you every possibility to find your way out. “Get out of the fucking way, I said!” Frustration filled your yells, you had recourse to all your strength in a restless effort to shove him off, continuing to insult him and punch his chest, still your blows felt like nothing more than tickling to him. Thomas rolled his orbs and, at the same time, raised both his eyebrows, in a plan expression of his nuisance. “I think you’re being a bit overdramatic, love” Thomas was perfectly aware that he was being a total asshole, afterall, he had never even thought of May in such a way, but, for some strange reason, he wanted to tease you that night, he wanted to see you detonate. His imperturbable tone, together with his absurd words, totally made you lose your temper, you sensed your knuckles itching to crash with his perfect jaw, again and again and again. “Overdramatic?!” your voice raising of a couple octaves “You bloody bastard! You lied to me, God only knows what the hell’s been going on between you and that bitch. What’s more, you let her fucking flirt with you, in front of me!” Hot tears were now forming in your eyes while you kept shouting till you felt your throat hurt, Tommy simply kept watching you, not daring to pronounce a single syllable, but never changing his stoic countenance, nor moving from the doorway. “You were flirting back, letting her touch you that way, you fucking humiliated me, Thomas! In my place, you would’ve killed any man, without even thinking ‘bout it!” Tom’s look somehow softened as he observed your features contract with anger and sorrow, he knew he had unnecessarily and foolishly hurt you, he only was too proud to say it out loud; so, he kept his mouth shut and just came closer to you, carefully attempting to stroke your shoulders with tenderness. Nevertheless, you were too full of wrath and delusion to let him make it up to you that easily: actually, you desperately needed to cry, your cheeks were flushing with resentment, blind choler streaming in your veins. And, suddenly, a dull smack resounded in your and his ears. You slapped him so hard, that his head automatically tilted in the opposite direction, leaving both you and him speechless for a full minute; Thomas remained in that forced position, frozen, without going back to face you, consequently giving you the opportunity to finally pull him aside. “You don’t fuck with me, Mr. Shelby” That was all that you hissed, then leaving the Garrison and not looking back.

tag list:  @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @mclfoybaby, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest

[frodopotter7]

Part 1 (the Demon and the Detective)

To the Series

My Masterlist

pairing: Sifunkel (Paul Simon X Art Garfunkel)

gerne: fluff, mystery-thriller

warning: blood, anxiety, angst, depression, mental illness, self-harm

Summery: Art Garfunkel is one of New Yorks best detectives. But there is a cruel serial killer in Queens, who seems to play with dark magic. Can Art solve the case or will the case solve him? And is the bad even always just cruel or is there more?

notes: Inspired by the song ‘Somewhere they can’t find me’

a/n: I’m sorry for any little grammar mistakes. This is my firth fanfiction n tumblr and I’m not a native speaker. Just don’t get bothered by that. Have fun with reading.

A yound man sat behind his small desk in his tiny room. A white paper was attached to the typewriter and behind him was a pinwall with thousend of word and pictures connected with a red line. From outside the rain tapped against the little window, which blinds were closed. A orange lamp gave the man some light. Oh the man wished for more light. He loved the sun and the world at daytime, but his job was more for the night time. So there he was, finding himself with nothing he could work with. The man ran through his curly blond hair as the green Telefone on his messy desk full of paper rang. He picked up. "Yes. Hello." "Hello Mister Garfunkel. We found another death body near a housing estate in a alleyway. Please come her as fast as you can. Queens Avenue 57th." "Yes Mister Halee. I will be there as soon as possible." Mr. Garfunkel adjusted the tie and grabbed his brown and striped coat. He rushed down to get a taxi. The rain was still pouring and it was dark outside. Garfunkel got a taxi and so he drove to the crime scene. He already saw the bling lights from the police car. It was always horrible, but it gave Mr. Garfunkel something. It gave him a meaning, a reason in life. He just had his job and that was it. Crime solving was his life. He loved it, when he could help and bring up the truth. "Ah, there are you. Gentlemen's the best detective of them all. Mister Art Garfunkel." "Hello Roy. Too much of the honour. I'm just doing my job." "Well than please take a look.", Roy Halee smiled.

The dead body was a young woman maybe in her thirties. She worn a blue dress with Jewellery, brown hair and something was familiar about her. Art had this since all the serial killing started. Some of the corpse look familiar although all them were different. This was the only connection. Wait, there was another connection. Art came closer. He was face to face to the corpse. Others called him weirded, but he did it his way. He opened the mouth of the woman. The police wanted to interrupt him, but Roy them back. Yes, exactly what he thought. Black fog came out of her mouth. Art opened the eyes of the death person. Completely black. The bullet wound and knife stable were just for discretion. But how was that possible. "So she was married, but the ring on her finger is still new. So maybe she was also just wanted to marry. Her eyes are like the corpse before deep black. And from her mouth came the rest of some kind of fog. Please check this. Also I would like to have more data about her. Firth we should search the husband or boyfriend. Reachers in the crime data. And get people who look similar. For the doctors find out about this empty eyes." That was a very confusing statement, but Mr. Halee trusted him. Everybody was just starred and was overwhelmed by Arts Analyse. "So Gentleman, you heard him." "But there is no fog or black eyes.", one of the police man's said. "Of course there is. There always is.", Art responded Roy looked at him with that strange caring look. "Gentlemens please just do what he said. Mr. Garfunkel has as I said a special way to fight crime."The police left and Roy made his way to Art. He buttoned up his suit. Roy always did that when there was new work. "Art you are a mystery to me. But I know you solved a lot of crimes. Although this series crime don't stop." "Two." "What?" "There are two series crimes. One which involves dead mans. The other one involves all sort of people and all of them have this black fog and black eyes one day after there deaths." Roy nodded understandably. "What are you doing now?" "Duck back down the alleyway and find the murder." "What? Mr. Garfunkel you could die. Well, you definitely gone die! He is a serial killer!" "Roy I'm hunting this murder for three years now. I know enough. But I am the only one who can see these weird sickness on the corpses. Even you did ignore my annotations. My theory is that he kills criminals who camouflaged them self. I know, weird and stuff. But I'm so sure about this. Also who cares if i I die?" "Well I do, the police does. You been so strange since all this serial killing started." "Yeah, I know work cares. Well, this is work. So I have to hurry up. Bye, Roy. See you tomorrow." "Hopefully." Art put up his collar and disappeared in the darkness of the alleyway. Roy was left alone under the small orange of the street lamp, which flickered a bit. Next to him the death woman, who was lay in the shadow of the houses. Roy looked after Art but he couldn't see him anymore. So he looked the crime scene and drove back home.

Meanwhile Art was looked around carefully. He was prepared for everything, holding his hand close to his belt under his coat, where his gun was hidden. He hoped he didn't needed it. Suddenly something moved. It looked like something in the shadows around him would move. Art spun around and screwed up his eyes to focus. Art spotted a small outline of a person comply wrapped in the shadows of the alleyway just standing there straight. The thing tilted his head slightly. "Who are you?" No movement, no response. Art stud there still, didn't dare to move. So was the other person. Art put his fingers around the trigger of the gun, but as slowly as possible. "Listen. I know that you killed her. I just want to know more about the black fog. What is this? A poison?" Again no response. Art couldn't see anything besides the rough outline of the small person. It was just seconds, but it feeled like a hour in which nothing happened. Just the silence and the quit highway noise in the distance hang in the air. And than Art made a mistake. He made one tiny step forward. The person was rushing and starlted. Art feared that now he would shot and winced for a single moment. But than he heard the sound of running shoes. The murder fled even though he had just murdered someone. Art could have sworn that it would be easy for the murder to kill him. Did he knew about the weapon? But Art didn't had time to thing about this, he already ran after the sound of the shoes. The sound came from the wall. Was the murder climbing? Running on walls was something impossible. Art tried in vain to see something besides the dark cream walls of the houses. He ran fast. But suddenly the sound and the movement was gone. Just disappeared into nowhere. Art looked around. He found himself in a dead end. Great. Now he had lost his track. The only thing besides the nightly travig noise that Art heared was the sound of water. There must be a small river. He knew that there was a little river in that area with a old blue bridge over it. This must be just behind the wall of the dead end. But there was no way to get over this. Furthermore Detective Garfunkel didn't even knew if the person had escaped in that direction. Disappointed he made his way back to the crime scene. Arthur was lost in though. He really needed to get back home to write everything down. After ordering a taxi and arriving back in his flat, he grabbed his note book, trough himself on his bed and wrote everything down he found out. So it was a small person. Probably a man and around 5.4 tall. Well tall is the wrongs word by 5.4. Small would fit better, Art thought. He smiled. Yes, the smaller the more louder and aggrisive the things were. That also counted for animals. Little dogs always barked the loudest. Little bird always chipped the loudest. Mosquitoes also we're very tiny and were one of the most aggressive insects. What Art wondered besides the fact of the sudden disappearing was the strange tilting of the man's head. That was nothing what humans normally did. Not even mad murderer. Art had seen enough to know that exactly. The man was more like the behavior of an animal. Art rubbed his eyes tired. He got up and toke a shower. A shower always helped him. He felt cleaner especially after he had been so close to a corpse. It also cleaned his brain from all the mess in head. After he was ready for bed. He took the firth look at a clock. 3 am in the morning. Great, that meant less sleep for the tired Detective, who he fall asleep immediately.

Continue: Part 2

[hesloaded]

roleplay/fake. krp oc. n/sfw. tw: dark and mature themes. all profile information remains undisclosed unless plotted otherwise. faceclaim: ㅋㅏㅇㅣ written by rae.

code name: BULLET. birth name: 김 지 원 / kim jiwon. birthdate: 1994.12.21. birth place: seoul, south korea. korean age: 28. zodiac: sagittarius sun.

occupation: independent hitman, sniper. skillset: tactical shooting & combat (experienced with carbines, shot/handguns, sniper/rifles, machines under extreme circumstances. & hand-to-hand), boxing, krav maga, filipino stick/knife fighting. first aid.

weight: 76kg. height: 182cm. physique: fit. lean overall. languages: fluent korean, english. conversational japanese, mandarin, russian. religion: none. hails from a christian background. tattoos: example > arm sleeves, chest, back, and on his left hip to thigh. description of some pieces below;

nunc illas promite vires (now put forth that strength, in latin), in thick font, a vertical line on the left of his side, stops above the hipbone.

Buddha on the inner bicep of his left arm sleeve.

a gun on his right hip.

a large dagger on his left upper-wrist, the tip of it’s blade reaching for his middle finger.

‘i deeply belong to myself’, horizontally arcing down his left hipbone.

other mods: pierced ears, all basic holes and hooped silver rings. main earring holes are both gauged at 3mm, though he doesn’t wear them often anymore as he currently prefers earrings. sexual orientation: n/a.

Jiwon had been born with a well polished silver spoon in his mouth, which had remained wedged there until the day he’d personally witnessed his father’s murder. Their wealth had been abundant, but abundance did not always equal lawful, and Jiwon so happened to learn that the hard way. His father had been dabbling with the underworld for many years, and thus put him and his family’s life on the line since the very first contract he’d ever signed with the dons, the chiefs and the clans. After crossing certain boundaries of such dangerous people, as consequence, the father’s life had been taken away from him right in front of his only son, and the son had since been left in abandon while growing up with that gruesome memory, which never seemed to leave room for other nightmares in the night.

Quickly, the silver spoon grew rusted. Their family name had plummeted below the surface of the social class, and Jiwon had been forced into the other end of the spectrum without much time to grieve, or to adjust to his reality. They were suddenly dirt poor, as everything they once had was taken away from them upon the findings of his father’s illegal dwellings, and there was nothing they could say, or do about it. Jiwon, 15, and his younger sister, 7, getting by alongside their sickly mother on scraps and pity. Before they knew it, the hospital bills began to pile up in the drawers, court debt left behind by the father too much to handle, as well as basic expenses like food, education and rent.

At 17, Jiwon had voluntarily dropped out of school and decided he’d simply leave home, never to return again until he’d found a job that allowed him stable income. Enough cash to at least sustain his mother, and his younger sister. But there was also something else carried in the back of his mind, something poisonous that lead him astray along the way. He’d started with simple jobs in convenience stores, food delivery, the odd job here and there that could add at least an extra won for the month. But the greedier he got, the odder did the jobs as well. As if this was a sort of calling in his blood, he'd ended up at the edge of an industry where his late father had once been before. Maybe out of grief, and surely for revenge.

He knew he could never go back to the day after he had come across a certain individual he knows nothing of in present, who’d introduced him to a variety of "temp" jobs; mostly hands off at first, to prove he were trusty enough, before he’d graduated into the hands on part of the lifestyle where he’d learn how to fight, throw a knife, and shoot a gun. Professionally groomed by a veteran towards serious temporary positions and better money, by sparring until he were caked in bruises and blood, and shooting empty beer cans by the beach waves (trained in Jeju). And sooner than he'd thought, beer cans became human beings.

His initial aim was never to fall too deeply into dangerous affairs that had gotten his father killed in the first place, but there was something about it that was much too seductive to ignore, much too thrilling to escape- and so by the age of 19, Jiwon was engrossed. And he was really good.

He began working with the man who’d basically recruited him after seeing the talent and hunger for something dark in his eyes, and through him discovered some parts to the puzzle of what had lead his father to such a cruel fate some years ago. Then after reaching a certain point in his investigation and a number of paychecks (which he often sent home to his family rather than keeping all to himself), and with the (forced) help of a mysterious woman he’d met named Kim Yuna, Jiwon had disappeared. Gone to lay low (and train more/hone other skills) in Auckland, New Zealand, and had come back shortly after turning 22, to put his research and skillset into practice.

This is when he had come to surpass his father’s footsteps; solidified his place in the underworld, established as an independent hitman after finally reaching and murdering his father’s killer. Spilling the rage and thirst for blood that had slowly welled up inside him over the years. Known as Bullet, and despite his young age, wanted and feared simultaneously.

location: established in seoul, south korea; works worldwide. direct address: undisclosed. license: LvL 1, general korean license. drives a harley davidson motorcycle, his car a revamped vintage ford mustang. pets: none. takes care of stray cats in his neighborhood. relationship status: n/a. family: mother (alive), younger sister (alive), father (deceased). had severed ties with them and doesn’t talk about them.

hobbies: cooking. reading. sports (lifting, boxing). watching movies. gaming. optimist or pessimist?: neutral. introvert or extrovert?: introverted extrovert. "describe yourself": well-rounded. intelligent. versatile. worthy. surprising. creative. best-shot. "describe jiwon": precise. observant. intimidating. unpredictable. humorous. aggressive. cross. dreams/goals: learn how to properly wield a japanese sword, going drifting with his car in tokyo, sandboarding in the desert dunes, visiting the stray cats in italy.

— being an independent assassin would mean that his business exists sans any form of contract to whatever company or illegal organization at all. a lot of these do exist both in South Korea and overseas, but Jiwon is strict about steering very clear from all attempts of recruitment made his way. signing his life away with blood is something he never plans to do, unlike his father had.

— the underworld's presence also lingers within certain hotels, bars, offices and theatres; as well as underground establishments like boxing ranges and clubs of all natures. simply because people like him are everywhere, though only few of them could ever compete.

— his associates range broadly from Triad bosses to ballerinas, and everything else in between. police chiefs, escorts, seasoned veterans, boxers, racers, butchers, hotel managers. all associates of his, and the below surface's, of course.

— he values taking care of himself very highly, as it contributes to his work at times it matters. when he'd first gotten into working within the industry as a rookie, he could be often found doing small missions like escorting, as he'd been recognized to be visually appealing, and taught to wield it as though he were holding a sharp blade.

— he'd lived and trained in a secluded countryside farm in Jeju island for nearly four years, before packings his bags and disappearing to Auckland in the midst of night.

— owns too many pairs of sneakers, belts, button ups and turtlenecks. he's an expressive dresser; usually loves wearing pieces that stand out or glitter. his closets consist mainly of blacks, reds and whites, some greys, blues, purples, and plaid. when it comes to accessories, he will try it all but prefers simple rings and thick necklaces. finally, his cologne selection ranges broadly of fresh, pine and woody scents.

— surprisingly loves babies and kids. might or might not suffer from perpetual baby fever.

— believes in consequential punishment, global warming, ghosts or spirits, and aliens. the usual.

— not very keen on haircuts. enjoys dyeing his hair. sometimes find his many tattoos burdensome as he regularly has to cover up for the casual public (though he doesn’t try much anymore, really).

— he absolutely despises being lied to, have his skills doubted, being suspected, accused unjustly and seeing entitled pride in other people. it might sound obvious, but it’s all particular triggers for anger and hostility in him.

— can’t keep promises. a bit lackluster when it comes to romance. prefers relationships without titles, and sometimes emotions. but when he does fall, he falls hard enough to break bones.

— he wants to look into going to live in japan for a while in the future, to study kenjutsu, and acquiring a japanese katana of his own.

— he has a habit of getting new tattoos whenever he’s out of the country. or when he’s stressed—he refuses to destress with smoking.

— despite his job and the occasional requirement to travel overseas to rigorous tasks and obscure locations, or stay in Seoul apartments; living off scrap for months in both predicaments, he’s still a homebody. Appreciates when he can return home and sleep with a corn-chip in his mouth.

— his home is prepared for any kind of assault at any hour of the day, carrying hidden weapons hiding in plain sight.

— collects silencers/suppressors simply because he enjoys using them on his firearms.

[jawritter]

Broken me...

Ch. 11 1/2.. LOL... The deleted chapter... Because tumblr hates me... 

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunatly have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: ***SUICIDE ATTEMPT*** If this kind of thing bothers you!! This might trigger you!! Overdose, brief discription of medicial Intervention because of suicide attempt.. language, angst, this is overall a tough one yall..

Word Count: 2117

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Your POV:

Things had seemingly gone well at Jensen’s parents. His family all seemed nice enough. Jensen seemed to be enjoying himself as well. He acted like he didn’t want to leave, but the two of you were headed back to Austin for one more night before you both had to fly back to Vancouver for Jensen to start filming.

It was a roughly a three hour drive from Dallas to Austin. Depending on the traffic. Jensen’s upbeat mood he’d been in sense we got to Austin had seemed to be gone from the moment he got back behind the wheel of the car.

He was quiet on the ride home.

Which was a little unsettling.

You tried to shove it off…

‘He’s just tired. He will feel better in the morning.'

So you kept quiet. Giving him his space. Even though you couldn’t shake the feeling deep in the pit of your stomach that said something wasn’t right..

When you both finally walked back through the front door it was late, almost one in the morning, and you were so tired from the events of the day, meeting his family, to the six hour drive round trip, to your own worrying which you knew was probably senseless, that you just wanted to do nothing more than to fall face first into the bed..

“I’m gonna go grab a shower, and then I’m headed to bed.” You tell him, giving him a peck on the check. He smiled tiredly at you. Reaching over and grabbing your waist, pulling you between his long bowed legs as he made himself comfortable on the barstool in the kitchen..

“Okay, I’m gonna stay up a little bit. Wind down from the drive.” He said, placing his head against your stomach, holding on to you as if he let you as if it were the last time he’d ever have you in his arms again…

That seemed odd, but again you brushed it off…

“O… Okay..”

Jensen stands up, wrapping you in his arms, pulling you into a deep passionate kiss. Making your knees go weak. His grip on you a little tighter than it usually was..

“I love y/n.” He says when he finally breaks the kiss. A strange look in his eyes. Like something in him was…

Off…

Wrong…

Broken…

Missing…

Something that wasn’t there when you arrived in Austin just a few days ago, but you had noticed a hint of it at the dinner table today at his parents house….

“I love you too.” You tell him as he let go of you. “You okay?”

Jensen nodded his head and gave you a tight smile.

“Yeah baby I’m fine, go on to bed.”

Looking back over your shoulder as you walk away you yell back at him. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, handsome!"

You hear him chuckle lightly as you head quickly to your shower.

He was fine, surely you were just imagining things, making something out of nothing because you were tired… Or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself as you took your shower.. Your nerves seemed to be buzzing, and you couldn’t quite figure out why…

After your shower you changed into a pair of pj pants, and one of Jensen old shirts. Crawling into bed you laid there for a few minutes.

The house was quiet…

Jensen still hasn’t come to bed…

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong…

That look, the way he was acting all the way home from Dallas. What he did when you got home…..

Panic rises in your chest like a growing storm…

You’d seen this type of behavior before…

How the hell did you miss it?

Throwing the covers off, and shooting out of the bed, run toward the kitchen where you left Jensen, heart pounding in your ears from panic.

You brother acted this way…The last time you saw him alive…

Right before he took his own life…

No one in your family knows why he did it. He never left a note, but he acted all overly happy two days before the night he left mom’s house. Drunk. Quite. Telling everyone he loved them….

He lost the battle with anxiety and depression that night…

You almost didn’t survive the funeral. The two of you were close. Still you never saw it coming. He never said anything. Depression is a silent killer. You learned that the hard way…

You search the entire bottom floor. Calling his name. He was nowhere to be found. You run out to the pool and backyard. He wasn’t there either. You run back into the house heading to the second floor. You see the light on in JJ’s room. You call his name, but get no answer….

Your heart is beating so fast you think it might explode as you approach the door…

With shaking hands you grab the nob, and open the door, looking around the room at first you think he’s not there either.

Walking around the bed you see a pair of boots and legs sprawled out in an awkward position on the floor. A whiskey bottle and two bottles of pills laying on the floor next to his feet…

………………………………………

Jensen’s POV:

Blackness…

Or at least that’s all that was left, until that annoying beeping started somewhere off in the distance, growing louder and louder with each passing minute..

He could hear voices off in the distance, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying..

Many times he’d acted out "his death”. Having played a character for years on TV that had not only died more times than most people could count, but had also gone to hell…Actually he  figured that’s where he’d find himself…

This…. He wasn’t sure what this was…

His throat felt like it had been ripped to pieces from the inside out. He was nauseas as hell. His whole body literally hurt. Every joint. Every muscle.

Maybe I was in hell…

He was afraid to open his eyes. Afraid of where he’d find himself…

The more he came to himself, it felt like someone was holding and rubbing his hand.

‘Y/n?’

‘She’s not dead, this isn’t right, something is wrong?’

Slowly things started coming back to him…

Flashes of what happened after he’d tried to end his own life…

You screaming…

Someone he couldn’t see trying to do CPR on him in what he assumed  was an ambulance…

Really bright lights and a searing pain in his chest as they tried to shock him back on an operating table…

A tub being rammed down his throat, pumping a thick black liquid into him… Then the same tub pulling out the contents of his stomach…

His entire body shaking uncontrollably…

People running around the table he was laying on yelling at each other… Trying to save him……

No this can’t be real. This had to be a nightmare……….

Slowly he opened his eyes for the first time in what was probably days. At first all he could see was blinding light, and blur as his eyes adjusted…

“Jensen!! Jensen!! Look at me baby! Can you hear me?!!"

Hearing you call his name Jensen looked blindly towards the sound of your voice.. You sound panicked… This was his fault… This shouldn’t be.. He’d done this.. He caused this…

He felt your hand on the side of his face as his eyes adjusted, and the invisible, black weight that was holding him down to his bed started to slowly lift. Letting his eyes adjust to your face…

‘Why the hell did I do something so stupid?! How could I hurt her like this?!’

"Jared, he’s awake, get the nurse.” She said, looking across the room to his best friend. Who he heard run toward the door.

“He’s awake!”

Your POV:

“Y/n you need to go back to Jensen’s, and get some sleep.” Jared said ,looking at you like you might drop dead from exhaustion at any moment.

“The doctors said he’s stable, and when he’s ready he will wake up. This is just the body’s way of dealing with the trauma he’s put himself through."

Jared meant well, but you weren’t going anywhere.

"There is no way in hell I’m leaving him. I’m going to be here when he wakes up.” You say through your teeth. Lack of sleep makes you easily annoyed.

It had been two days since you found Jensen in his daughter’s room. He still hadn’t woken up. The doctors all swear that he will when he’s ready. Part of you feels guilty that you couldn’t see the signs that were right there in front of you. You were kicking yourself for leaving him and going to bed that night. So you were determined to be there when he finally was ready to wake up again.

That, and everytime you close your eyes you see his body seizing on the ER room gurney…

Doctor holding him down, and shoving tubs filled with charol down his throat…

They had to pump his stomach to make sure all the stuff he’d swallowed was not in him anymore…

Three more minutes, if you had just laid there for three more minutes in bed that night before getting up to go and find him, it would have been too late…

You grabbed his hand like you had done countless times in the past two days. Running small circles across his hand with your thumb.

For just a moment you thought you saw his face twitch, but you were probably just imagining things. The longer you sat there watching him, ignoring Jared complaining something about how you were no good to Jensen if you had to be hospitalized yourself.. The more you thought you could see movement…

All the sudden like you had been praying they’d do for a little over 48 hours now Jensen’s eyes fluttered open and searched around the room blindly.

Shooting to your feet so fast that the chair you were sitting shoved back you placed your hand on the side of his face..

“Jensen! Jensen! Look at me baby can you hear me?!"

His eyes rolled back into his head before refocusing several times, fighting to stay continuous as he searched for you, and when he finally found you tears were already streaming out of his bloodshot eyes. Jared was standing frozen next to the window on the opposite side of the room in just as much shock it seemed as you were..

"Jared, he’s awake! Go get the nurse!” You said, afraid to take your eyes off of Jensen, not knowing if he was in pain or not.

His mouth moved, but no sound came out, and you started to panic.

Finally it hit you.

He’s probably hoarse from the tubes.

You grabbed the glass with a straw in it that was sitting on his tray, and poured it into the cup. Sitting the bed up some you put the straw to his lips, and he turned his head away from it..

“Come on baby please! It will help.” You said, and he looked at you like you’d asked him to walk across hot coals.

Then reluctantly put the straw in his mouth. Taking a small test pull at first. Then taking deep pulls on the straw. Realizing how thirsty he actually was. When it was gone he finally croaked the word “more” out. You quickly refilled the glass, and put it back to his lips. Watching him closely as Jared ran back into the room with about four nurses.

“Good. Your drinking. How are you feeling Mr. Ackles?” The charge nurse asked. Checking his vitals and the monitors that were next to the bed.

He said nothing. Just sat there with a death grip on your hand and staring at his lap.

“Mr. Ackles, do you remember how you got here?” She asked, and he only nodded his head yes.

You’d never seen him so down…

So defeated…

It was heartbreaking…

“Well, because of what you did you are being placed on a 48 hour suicide watch before you are released to your care takers. You will be required by law to see a therapist. Since it’s illegal to kill yourself your also looking at a pretty hefty fine I’m sure.” She went on telling him what he had to face in the next 48 hours.. Once it had been settled that he was no longer with Danneel, and he signed the papers putting you as his support system, and caretaker for the extended future, or at least until he was cleared by the therapist. She finally left the room with the other nurses, leaving the three of you alone..

He just sat there. Still clinging to your hand, and not looking at you or Jared in the eye. No matter what you said or asked him. The hospital staff came every hour to check on him, and there was a nurse sitting at a desk outside his door.

Jared went and got his favorite takeout, and brought it back to Jensen and yourself before leaving for the evening to help Gen and the babysitter in hope that he’d eat, but he wasn’t really all that interested, and after a few bites gave up completely on eating it…

Everytime Jared asked Jensen why he wouldn’t talk he’d just point to his throat. So neither of you wanted to press the matter. Afraid it would hurt him worse than help him…

Once Jared was gone Jensen looked at you sitting in the chair next to his bed. Tears running down his face again. The look of someone that was being torched alive.

“I’m so sorry…” He finally got out. His voice so hoarse it was almost a whisper.

You were on you feet in an instant. Dropping the side rail on the bed. He slid over for you to slide  in next to him.

He immediately put his head on your shoulder.

Exhausted, broken, and defeated.

Three things he should have never been.

“There isn’t a damn thing you need to be sorry about.” You tell him. Running your hands through his hair. Grateful that you were still able to do this. That you could still reach up, and run your hands through his hair. Touch his face. Feel his breath on your neck.

"I love you Jensen. I’m gonna be right here with you the whole way through this.” You tell him as he nuzzles himself into the bend of your neck.

“I love you to y/n. Please, please don’t give up on me."

Exhaustion was hitting him. Sleep trying to reclaim him. He’d been awake for a long time. You didn’t realize it was almost midnight until you looked at the TV playing silently in the corner..

"I’m not going anywhere, and there is no way in hell I’ll ever give up on you.”

Jensen’s POV:

The biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life still wasn’t an accurate excuse for what he felt like he’d done.. He’d let hurt feelings, fear, and depression lie to him. Convince him that you’d be better off without him..

He felt like he was Drowning.

The little voice in his head telling him over and over again that you’d be better off if he’d never come into your life.. Never came and knocked on your hotel door.. Never pulled you up on that stage.. .

At least then you’d be able to have a normal life.

A life without people stalking.

Taking pictures of your every move.

Social media attacks.

All those things you never deserved.

He’d never get his kids back from Danneel.

He’d always be broken.

Like a Drowning person with no hope he thought he’d find his relief in death. That way the suffocating pain would stop.

In truth it wouldn’t have stopped. He would have just passed it on to his kids, you, Jared, and everyone else that loves him. The scars inside him are permanently there, but that doesn’t mean he can ever give up again. He can never stop fighting. People he loves counted on him to keep going, even when he didn’t want too…

As he fell asleep in your arms he thanked God for another chance.

He knows this battle within himself isn’t over. It’s just beginning to even surface, but at least he knows for sure now that he’s not alone.

You said you’d never leave him. No one has ever said that before and meant it.

He knows though that you mean it.

He will make it up to you for doing this to you. He felt like he owed you his  very life. If you’d just gone to bed, and not come looking for him. He would have lost everything.

The thought of losing you is something he never wants to face again, especially at his own hand…

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

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binge tag: @sarahbaker2010​ @deans-baby-momma​ 

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Owl House/Fairy Tail Crossover Episode 1 Part 2

Hello everybody, time for another part of my Fairy Tail/Owl House Crossover, Midnight Striga!! Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

“So, since when can humans do magic?” Eda asked with a sniff, shooting a wry grin towards her passenger.

Luz arched an eyebrow, visibly impressed. “Since always. I’ve kind of gathered by now that you aren’t human, and that very few, if any, of the people here are human either. But I’m getting off topic already, why are you asking?” She leaned forward, expecting an answer.

“HA!” Eda barked in humor at Luz’s boldness. “Kid, it’s been an accepted fact since forever that humans can’t do magic. I think that warrants a little curiosity, doesn’t it?”

Luz huffed, tilting her head back and forth in thought. “Eh, fair enough. I have no idea where you got your info that humans can’t do magic, but since I’m guessing this place is pretty closed off from human contact, info from outside of it falls through the cracks. I can give you a more informed answer when we land, but the long and skinny of it is that every living being has some potential for magic, but not everything has the power needed to actually do anything with that potential. I’m one of those that can.”

Eda blinked, glancing up in thought. That… was more than what she thought she was gonna get. In the short term, this kid basically more or less flat out confirmed that what witches know about humans is about as accurate as a portrait made by a blind man with no sense of touch. Purely guesswork based off of extremely limited input, in other words. Still, while this may upset some of her plans, this girl had some serious moves back there. She still had no clue what exactly she did, but it was impressive! And- what was that thumping she felt on the back of her head?

“-da, Eda, Eda, Eda,” With each repetition of the Witch’s name, Luz lightly thumped her knuckles against the back of her head. What could she say, when Luz got bored, she tended to get a little mischievous.

“GAH!” With a yelp at the small but incessant pain, Eda shot Luz a quick glance of annoyance. “Titans, kid, I’ve only got the one head! What do you want?”

Luz shot Eda a Cheshire grin, before subtly pointing down. “I think we’re here, if the fact your staff stopped and has been hovering over this place on its own is anything to go by.”

As Eda glanced down, she flushed in embarrassment as, yes, they were hovering over her house. Man, she really got sucked into her own head there, didn’t she? Eda, ignoring Luz’s snickering, guided Owlbert down for a landing, hopping off as they touched ground.

As Luz finally got her laughter under control, she noticed something Eda had left behind on the staff: her hand. While admittedly curious about how it was still moving while visibly detached, and with no apparent magical connection to Eda’s body, Luz decided discretion was the better idea. Lightly snatching the hand off the staff, she sauntered up to Eda, and very much deliberately tapped on her shoulder. When the older woman turned back towards her in question, Luz cheerfully grinned and held up the missing appendage.

Flushing once again at having missed the fact that she had lost a limb again, Eda gratefully took her hand back, snapping it back in place upon her wrist. Deciding now was the best point to start saving face, Eda pulled up a smirk, gesturing to the door. “I was wondering where that went. Anyways kid, I’d like to welcome you to my place. It may not seem like much, but I’ve got a killer security system!”

Luz was skeptical. Not surprising, when you’ve been running as much as she has, it’s practically second nature after a while. But still, she couldn’t detect anything overtly magical with this house, as amazingly weird and bewilderingly breathtaking it may be, in a creepy shack in the woods sort of way, aside from that odd Door Knocker in the shape of an Owl’s face. A face that had just blinked.

“PASSWORD PLEASE!” It shrieked in what Luz could honestly say was the most annoying voice she had EVER heard in her life. Also, when did she raise her hand to punch?

Before she could attack the strange creature, Eda beat her to the point, jabbing her fingers into the Face’s eyes. “We don’t have time for your games, Hooty! Open up!”

“Fine! Jeez! You never let me have any fun, hoot.” The Face, Hooty apparently, complied in a much softer, but still irritating, voice, swinging the door open on its hinges without Eda touching it.

Stifling a snicker at the odd by-play between the two, Luz followed Eda into her home. The first thing she noticed was the massive piles of junk scattered about, an odd mix of toys, books, tools, clothing, anything you could possibly find legally in either a sleepy town in the countryside or a bustling major city. The second thing she noticed was how prominent the Owl Aesthetic of the place was, with Owl themed decorations covering pretty much everything that wasn’t cluttered by Eda’s junk. Yet, in spite of the messy, dysfunctional feel of it all… Luz could honestly say that she found the place almost like a home, just from the energy of it all.

Smirking, Eda preened under Luz’s silent awe of her house. “Yeah, this place is great. A nice spot to hide away from the pressures of life.” She plopped down onto her couch with a content sigh. “Also the cops. Hmm, and also exes. Ha!”

Luz cracked a smile at the joke. Okay, it probably wasn’t really a joke, but it was still funny! “I can’t say I’ve had issues with the third one, but I’m very familiar with the first two. So, you’ve got questions for me?” She settled against the counter, relaxed, but ready to spring if things went ugly. She didn’t really expect them to, but you could never be too careful sometimes, especially with a near-total stranger, battle bond or not.

Eda leaned forward, eyes sharp. Now they were in familiar territory. “Questions, and a small proposal, if you’re up to it. Firstly, just what kind of magic were you using back there?”

“Huh, getting right in it, eh?” Luz grinned, pleased at the opportunity to brag- she meant inform! Inform someone about her skills. “At the start, that was what we in the bizz call Molding Magic. In my case specifically, Light-Make Magic.”

Eda blinked, not understanding. “Okay, gonna need a little more than that kid.” She grinned. “But I will say this, I think I like where this is going.”

Luz snorted, agreeing with the woman privately, and started complying. “Well, to simplify it, Molding Magic is a form of Magic that can be applied both for combat and utility.” Luz made the same gesture Eda had seen earlier, pressing her closed fist against an open palm, soft light building at the point of contact. “Molding Magic allows one to gather magical energy, and shape it into different forms based on the element or material used. In my case, I use light.” With that said, she pulled her closed fist away, revealing a miniature sculpture of Eda, seemingly made entirely of light held into a still image. Luz smirked at Eda’s look of amazement. “Anything I can visualize, I can make, and the better I can visualize it, the more powerful and stable it turns out.”

Eda was stunned. This? This was a form of magic she had never even heard or dreamed of. And, if she was reading between the lines right, while it may not be common for humans who can use magic, and wasn’t that still a strange thought, it wasn’t truly rare by any means. The ability to make ANYTHING you can think of, so long as you can spare the energy? Eda could already think of all the ways she could’ve used something like that over the years.

“Okay, since when have humans been able to do something like that!?” Eda seriously wanted to know. If she could figure out how to replicate a spell like that, it would make some of her escapes far easier later on.

Luz shrugged. “I don’t know. A few hundred years maybe? I mean, the base form, Molding Magic itself, is pretty ancient, but most modern variants have only been around for a few centuries at most. Like, it’s older, but not ancient.” What else could she say? Luz may have a serious interest in magical history and theory, but she wasn’t an actual scholar.

Eda slumped. That wasn’t the best news, but it wasn’t really the worst either. Still, if humans have had proper magic for centuries, then the info the Boiling Isles had about humanity was even more off than she had thought. “Damn. I won’t ask you about those other spells and stuff you were slinging back there. They didn’t look similar to what you started with, but they seemed closer to magic that I know of at least.” Her gaze brightened, lips curving up into an excited grin. “But hot dog, what you were doing back there was impressive, kid. So, you want to know more about what’s going on?”

Luz nodded, serious. “Absolutely. For starters, where am I?”

Eda smirked, glad she had anticipated that initial question, though her own made it so she should probably adjust her prepared answer a little. “You, my new friend, are in the scenic Demon Realms, specifically, the Boiling Isles! A colossal collection of Islands joined by the corpse of a long-dead magical being known only as the Titan. For centuries, it’s been accepted among Witches that we alone had magic, and humans who we knew of, but knew nothing real about beyond our own assumptions, did not. Another common belief was that the Demon Realm was the source of all human myths and legends from our world seeping into yours, but if you guys have actually got magic, that’s probably false. Or, at least, it’s less true than what we had believed for so long.” Eda slumped, suddenly drained. It made sense, in her mind, to feel tired. Sure, she was excited, but having your entire understanding of how the world actually works going under a sudden shift wasn’t easy.

Luz nodded, processing the information. “Okay, so I’m in another dimension primarily populated by demons and magical beings that refer to themselves as Witches. Got it. Do you have any questions about my world?”

Eda quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly, kid? No, not really. While having my whole world view undergo a massive shift was fun, I’m not really a scholar, so this doesn’t affect me all that much.” She bolted up, suddenly brimming with energy. “What does affect me, though, is what you and I can do for each other!”

Luz smirked, slightly confused, but mostly excited about where this could go. “Oh?”

“Yup. But first, you’ll probably want to meet my roommate.” Eda grinned. She just knew she was gonna love the kid’s reaction. Turning towards the stairs, she shouted. “Hey King! Get your keister down here!!” Out of view from the kid’s eyes, Eda subtly twirled up a spell, distorting the sounds of King’s voice and footsteps as he descended.

“WHO DARES DISTURB I?” Eda smirked at the human’s reaction, seeing her shift into a battle stance at King’s admittedly intimidating (at the moment) voice, and the perception-shifting shadows adding to the illusion, she just knew this was gonna be funny. “The king of Demons!?” As King finally stomped into view, clad in his bath gear and clutching a Rubber Ducky, the spells having worn out and revealing his true size and voice, she was not disappointed.

“QUE LINDO!!” At the adorable sight of the little doggy demon, all of Luz’s hard-earned self-control decided that surrendering to her adoration of cuteness was preferable to keeping her tough girl image. Abandoning her attack stance, she rushed to the skull-headed cutie-pie of a demon, smothering him in cuddles. “Who’s a good boy? Is it you? Is it you!?”

“N-No, NO!! I Don’t know who your good boy is!?” Squirming in the strange individual’s grasp, King turned to his friend, roommate, and (even if he didn’t like to admit it) foster mother. “Eda! Who is this monster!?”

Eda laughed, genuinely enjoying the sight of the small demon struggling in the human’s grasp. “Okay kid, you can drop him. He’s not really fond of the whole cuddling thing.” As Luz grudgingly released King, Eda continued. “This, King, is Luz. She’s going to help with our little Warden problem, if you know what I mean.”

As King finished dusting himself off, he finished processing Eda’s words. “Oh. Hooray!”

Luz was far less enthused. “Whoa whoa wait, since when did I agree to anything?”

Eda chuckled. “Well, kid, if you ever wanna get back to the Human Realm again, I’m the only one you can do it through, as I’ve got the only known portal there.”

Luz grumbled, but didn’t challenge the claim. Smart girl.

Ed decided that it was time to get into the nitty gritty.

“King, here,” She began, motioning to the demon in question, conjuring up the story of his “fall from grace” as she talked. “Was once the mighty and powerful King of Demons. Feared and admired by all. Until, one day, the Evil Warden Wrath stole his crown of power, reducing him to… this.” She finished, motioning to the sight of King chasing his own tail.

Luz’s love of cuteness took over. “You mean this little guy?” She cooed, scooping King up into her arms. He tolerated it for a second, then flailed enough to break free.

Eda grunted, leaning against her wall. “Yup. We need you to help us break into the vault the Crown’s being stored in, and in exchange, we’ll get you home.”

“We’re your only option!” King piped up.

Eda sent a fond smirk at the little demon, before continuing. “And besides.” Eda pulled King up to Luz’s face. “Can you really say no to this face?” Eda cooed in a slightly babying tone.

As King’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, he yelled, “No! Don’t encourage her!!”

Fighting her impulse to agree immediately in the face of cuteness, Luz mulled it all over. She was stuck here for the moment, and she honestly didn’t have anything better to do. Plus, if anything went rotten with this, she could always defend herself…

Luz beamed. “When do we start, and where do we go?”

Eda grinned, happy that Luz was onboard. “Now, and somewhere super fun!” She promised, giving Luz a double thumbs up.

[crowleyellestair]

Geralt’s Problem - Pt.2

Summary: This is a part 2 to the request : Geralt X Healer! Reader where she is tagging along with the boys. Over the time she has spent tending to his wounds, and on occasion, savign him, Geralt begins to develop feelings for her but he doesn’t understand them, so he pushes them aside. One bad part of thier trek, she falls through ice, and almost dies. Geralt needs to come to terms w/ some feelings

@boiblunder, Thanks for wanting to be tagged!

AN/// So many of you guys wanted a part two, so here it is!!!!!

 Masterlist

 “Just admit it- I’m the best.” Y/n’s confidence rounded her melodic voice. The sentence was full of humor and joy that hung in the air, traveling throughout the fortress. Eskel threw his remaining cards down, huffing. His hand reached up to rub the scar that ornamented his features out of frustration and bewilderment.

“I don’t know about that, Lady Y/n, but you are good.” His statement finalizing that he was conceding. The woman rolled her eyes, picking up his deck, and rifling through the cards. He watched as she threw them into piles, one bigger than the other.

“It’s because you didn’t take my recommendation to heart. You need to spread out your strength. I knew you had a siege-based deck, therefore I added that rain card. I analyzed your fighting style, and adjusted to beat you- you should be able to do that better than most.” Her last sentence came out playful, and he blushed. Y/n had come to learn that he was too bashful for his own good, the only emotion ever to cross his face was embarrassment. Sadly, for the Witcher, he was embarrassed quite often. She let out a playful laugh and pushed both piles to him. “Keep the larger one, and add disbursed power from other cards you have. Maybe tomorrow lady luck will smile at you.” She swung a leg over the bench, going to get up, but stops before completely leaving. “But I doubt it.” She smiled and left the table, going to find Geralt.

The thing Y/n loved most about Gwent was that it was a great way to think. Sure, the game was based on focus and strategy, but she had been playing her whole life. She was just as skilled in the game as she was a healer, so she could get lost completely in the thought of something other than the game, and still win. She felt bad for the brunette, feeling as though she cheated him somehow. She respected all the men of Kaer Morhen, and she had guilt eating at her. Rather than being a good opponent, she was completely focused on something else, using his love of the game to get herself in a good headspace to think about her problem.

That problem was Geralt.

But despite the weird air around her and her problem, she should have given her all into those games. She saw Eskel as a friend, and he deserved her full attention. Tomorrow, she swore she would pour everything she had into it, especially since she knew he’d be bringing his A-game. He had yet to beat her, so tomorrow should prove eventful. Though, that night could prove eventful too, if she ever found her favorite Witcher.

She had first swung by the library, but her go to source of knowledge was asleep. Vesemir was a treasure trove of info that she had found useful. The last few weeks had been spent learning under him and everything he was willing to share about the world.

The courtyard had an area clear for training, which was her next stop. Lambert and Coën were occupying it, but it seemed they were on a small break. With a smile, she approached the two.

“Good afternoon, you two! Slacking off as usual, I see.” Coën spared a smile, but Lambert bristled. Due to the nudge given by his fellow Witcher, Lambert calmed, but still kept a defensive manner. Y/n threw her hands up in mock submission while continuing her way to them. “I just came to see if you knew were Geralt was.”

“You would like to know, wouldn’t you?” Coën clicked his tongue to his friend’s response, but Lambert didn’t care. Her smile dropped, looking blankly at him. She couldn’t find it in herself to truly be offended. She knew that they were wise beyond their years, which were plentiful.

“Again, I’m sorry for intruding your season. I know winter is your guys’ time.” Lambert rolled his eyes, but he loosened a little. On her first night, she wouldn’t stop apologizing for being there, no matter how much reassurance she received from them. Lambert was more annoyed at the affect she had on their friend Geralt. Lambert couldn’t bring himself to trust her completely, despite what Geralt has let on so far, because she was just as good as the average Witcher at keeping her feelings a secret.

It didn’t help his suspicions when he noticed how odd Geralt had been acting.

He was aware of Yennifer and her affects, and he didn’t need to see his brother go through that again.

  That night, when he was pulled out of his meditation by the main subject of his thoughts, he simply didn’t know how to respond. Sure, maybe glaring at her wasn’t the best option, but he wasn’t used to responding accordingly in these types of situation. Geralt had emotions, there was no doubt about it. The Trial of Grasses couldn’t erase them like it had others, but that had made life more difficult. He was used to bottling them up and acting like they didn’t exist. Witchers were supposed to be passive in situations, as they were too powerful to take sides. He had meant to go for a smile, but the realization was too shocking to let it out right.

Her reaction hurt him the most. She had asked him what was wrong before going back to the bed, grabbing a blanket, and covering herself. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel like he disapproved of the way she looked. He had tried to confess right then, in a raw emotional moment as he was vulnerable from meditation. Instead, he awkwardly complimented her, then dismissed himself.

It took him a stroll to the stables to realize he had left her in an unknown place without pants, and he had marched back in, acting passive- as if he didn’t feel guilty and embarrassed. She had felt the same way, insisting on giving him his room back, and sleeping in the tower. He accepted her wishes, silently scolding himself for pushing her away, though he was grateful to know that he had the option to go over things alone in his head.

And it wasn’t that he wanted to purposely avoid her, he just needed space to think.

Geralt often thought he wasn’t good enough to be friends or lovers with people because of what he was, even if he was constantly reassured- even if he craved their affection. It was just his nature, and he didn’t think he would ever change. Even now, he thinks that Jaskier might still want to leave forever, even after traveling together for all those years. And Geralt wouldn’t blame him, nor would he follow after.

So, Geralt wanted to decide if he would condemn her to him. Would his confession just put her in danger constantly? Would she be content with life knowing a killer would come back to her bed every night? Geralt hadn’t wanted to admit that she did, in fact, love him back. It was only speculation, even if all the signs pointed to her affection.

  Roach had been getting extra care over the past few nights as he would go there to ask her all of the pressing questions on his mind. He was grateful that Y/n had been so interested and open minded about him and his brethren, and frequently asked them to talk of tales. With her distracted, he wouldn’t have to face her. Maybe that was the wrong wording, because Geralt wasn’t a coward. He just couldn’t accurately predict how things would play out. He hadn’t wanted to make a scene, as they still had the rest of Winter to sit through. It had seemed to him that she had unknowingly charmed most of the others, and if things did go south, he didn’t know how it would affect the rest of them. He certainly didn’t want his love life to be discussed among his friends.

“Would you mind if I borrowed some cards from your deck?” Again, Geralt had found himself scolding as he was too lost in thought to process her approach. He patted Roach before looking to her. When his eyes met hers, all he could do was nod.

The world fell away. The chill that hung on the air stopped nipping at him as warmth radiated from her. Though it was growing darker outside, her eyes were like the sun, lighting his heart and mind. She had a reserved, unsure smile plastered on her face, which drew all of his attention.

“Thanks. I told Eskel to change his deck to have a better chance, but I never told him I was going to change mine as well.” He could tell by her tone and somewhat forced laugh that she didn’t want to make small talk, that there was something else. He knew what it was, but he wasn’t ready yet. He was damn near a century old and he wasn’t ready. He thought maybe he never would be.

“That seems fair, though I don’t think you need to.” A hint of her relaxed self had slipped through for a moment. So had Geralt when he knew she caught the underlying compliment in his statement. She looked around the clean stables, walking over to the fence and perching on it. Her hands nervously rubbed her thighs as she let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt’s brows furrowed so much it hurt, his eyes piercing her, though she wouldn’t look at him. “I didn’t mean to fall through the ice or invade your personal space here. I understand you guys come here to take a break from society. And I don’t know what I said to make it worse and to make you so dissociated, but I’m sorry. For all of it.” Geralt side stepped Roach to approach her, his hand reaching out as if to calm a cornered animal. When he entered reaching distance, he hesitated, but placed his hand on her upper arm. His thumb made calm swiping motions. He wasn’t sure if it was helping, but he knows Roach always liked it. Geralt didn’t want to compare Y/n to a horse, but his mare was always there, and it’s how he had received social interaction for a really long time. Roach is the only being, other than the woman before him, where he truly felt comfortable interacting with.

“Don’t say that. You’ve done nothing wrong.” His voice was light despite the harshness of the situation. Her gaze finally found his, and he was put into a sort of ease.

“Are you sure?” Because you’ve been avoiding me? Geralt’s face was apologetic and soft. He wanted to clear the air, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to say it. Those three pesky words that want to rush out of him and never leave all at once. Those three words that have been causing her pain by not being said, but could be worse for her if they were. “You’re sure I haven’t upset you in some way?”

“I don’t think you ever could.” Geralt could tell that she tried to hide it, but the look of hope and shock passed her for a brief moment. She looked to the ground again, biting her lip. They stayed there for a while, Geralt’s thumb never stopping it’s calming circles.

“Do you… Do you think we could do something tomorrow? Like together?” Her glaze flicked up to him, the raw purity shown hitting Geralt like a brick wall.

“What did you have in mind?” Y/n’s lips pursed.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Her shoulders shagged just a touch, but he could tell.

“I was planning to hunt on The Trail tomorrow, a skilled healer should be present.” He could feel his heart swell when she perked up. A smile burst on her and she said playfully and confidently,

“Well, you do seem to get yourself into trouble still. I don’t mind reprising my role as your hero again.” The Witcher rolled his eyes, but grinned. He reluctantly let go of her arm and started to escort her back to the tower. When they had reached her room, he had said goodnight.

“Goodnight to you too, my damsel Bartholomew.” Again, he felt himself rolling his eyes. He was thrown back into the memory of her saving him from the horde of wraiths and that fake name she had given him. She smiled and softly closed the door, the last glimpse of her was going to forever be etched in his mind. From his perspective, she had a holy glow from a candle he couldn’t see, making her the ethereal being she truly was- too gracious for this world.

  Her feet pounded just as fast as her heart. Y/n had memorized the way from her room to Geralt’s within the first week, and she’s glad she had. She only hopes that he was actually in the room. Blindly retracing her way to his place, she almost tripped. The adrenaline she had coursing through her would have made it so it wouldn’t have mattered. Tears were already streaming down her face, so more from any temporal pain wouldn’t make a difference. A voice in the back of her mind had felt bad, as she was sure that the others could probably pick up on her panic. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, but with their heightened senses, it was hard not to. She tried, successfully, to keep all external noises to a minimum, but she doubted it helped.

Y/n had soon made it to his door, her hand shaking as it went to knock. Her hand never made it to the wood as Geralt whipped it open. He looked to have been in bed as his hair was a mess and he had loose trousers barely gripping onto his hips. When his eyes met her wet ones there was no hesitation in bringing her to his chest. His nose found her hair, lips pressing to the top of her head. His arms locked around her form, and she let out a sob he could tell she was trying to control and keep quiet. He stepped into the room, but never left her. He pushed the door closed with his foot.

And there they stayed. Y/n freely let out sobs that wracked through her whole body. She almost started coughing, not getting enough air in despite her gasps for it. All Geralt could do was hold her. Her hands were gripping onto his chest as though her life depended on it. It took a couple of minutes, but she finally seemed to calm down some, only silent tears falling. She pulled back somewhat, apologizing. Her hand wiped away tears, but more replaced them just as fast.

“Why are you apologizing again? You’ll never need to apologize to me.” Geralt placed a large hand in the junction between her neck and shoulder, the other where it had been on her upper arm earlier that day. His voice was as gentle as he could make it.

“I-.” A hiccup cut her off. “I had a dream, but it felt real. I just needed to make sure you were okay. I didn’t mean to disturb you this much.” He was baffled, and it must have shown, because she seemed confused by his reaction. Her brows furrowed and soft sniffles fizzled out in the room.

“You didn’t disturb me.”

“But you were sleeping-.”

“Your wellbeing will never be a disturbance, Y/n.” She nodded, but he could tell she didn’t believe him.

“Would it be okay if I stayed? Just for the night?” He nodded and let her go. He flowed to the bed, lifting the blankets for her to crawl under. She seemed to find a good spot, and he subtly tucked her in. Moving to the other side, he too moved under the covers. It was silent until she spoke up. “I dreamt that someone got to you while you were asleep. I couldn’t do anything because I didn’t come into your room till the next morning. By then… It was too late. It felt so real- like it was a vision or something. I just… Want to be here to help if anything does happen.”

Geralt understood completely. He was a protector of the innocent, but when it came to Y/n, he had always been on the lookout for a nonexistent danger. Even after the first night of traveling together, he would prop himself up closer to her sleeping form to be there before anything else could be. Usually, Jaskier and Geralt would sleep simultaneously, but they had established a system once she started coming along. Jaskier would stay up, playing his lute for a couple hours while Geralt got rest, then they’d switch for the rest of the night. Luckily for the brooding man, Jaskier understood why, and with little jest, complied completely.

“I’ll be okay. You should get some rest. You’re already here, no need to suffer.” Geralt had meant it. He didn’t want her losing sleep over a dream, even if he did understand her need to protect. He had been resting on his back when she sat straight, and leaned over him. Her hand rested on his bare chest, just over his heart.

“I can’t do that. I know it sounds silly, but…” Y/n sighed, shaking her head. “I just can’t.” She stayed there, propped over his chest.

“Thank you.” He again could see her shaking head, but a melancholy smile twisted on her features.

“Don’t thank me.” This confused Geralt, but if she had felt the same as he assumed, it all became clear. And the look of sadness and self-hatred that flared on her set his decision in stone. Geralt sat up to match her, but a hand made sure hers stayed over his slow heart.

“I do. If the situation were reversed, you’d be doing the same. I too wouldn’t need to be thanked, as I would be doing what was necessary.” He could tell that she didn’t understand, and he let out a soft breath. His heart started to beat faster, almost reaching the speed of a normal human’s. Y/n could feel it, her gaze locking onto her hand the pressed more to try and feel it. “It would be foolish to think I wouldn’t protect the one I…love, even if it were a whim.” Her eyes widened, darting to meet his. Geralt’s face was soft, but nervous. He now understood what it meant to have ‘butterflies in your chest’. “I would stay up every night for you, Y/n.”

“Geralt- this is real, right? You really love me back?” He smiled gently before squeezing the hand he trapped to his chest. She let out a short, aggressive, breathless laugh. Her eyes flicked to there hands, but then back up to his, a fresh was of glass covering her irises.

“I think that’s what this feeling is. I’ve never felt it before, but I’m sure.” There was no hesitation on her part; as soon as his sentence was over, her lips were on his.

  There was a tinge of guilt through every kiss, touch, smile and conversation spoken between the two. Geralt never felt worthy of her, and he knew she worked overtime to try and express that he was. But he was happy, and from what he could see, so was she.

[riseoftheradiotrons]

Turns Out Being A Mass-Shifter Makes It Much Easier To Steal From A Billionaire

“Well, that’s... billions of shanix.”

Rivet looked at Dial-Up as if they just said the planets didn’t move, “The ship thinks you’re a CEO. Of course it’s billions of shanix.”

“We can’t detach from this pod yet, so you can set it up so we slowly reroute money while I travel in holoform.” Dial-Up kept their pede locked in the ship, so they didn’t forget Celsius’ podcode, and put the ship on environment-stable shutdown, letting their holoform appear outside the ship while they remained safely hidden behind an opaque window-shield.

Dial-Up’s holoform was meant to resemble something along the lines of what humans would consider an information-collector. Short, chin-length hair, kept out of their face by small orange clips, a notepad in one hand, a long-sleeved white button-down shirt with orange trim on the collar and bright red pants. Rivet convinced them to avoid a red blazer to go with the pants, but if the outside temperature became too cold, Dial-Up would wear it out of spite.

Pax-08 was surprisingly warm considering its distance from the sun. There were heat generators scattered all over the city, making the climate somewhat more livable, and giving Rivet a reason to prevent Dial-Up from wearing that terrible bright red blazer. There appeared not to be any locals who were Cybertronian or knew anything about Cybertron - their badges were required to be displayed somewhere on their body, and there wasn’t an Autobot patch or Decepticon tattoo in sight. But the attempts at interviewing went on anyway.

The question was “Have you heard of anyone known by The Crimson Doctor?” and the answers weren’t of much use

“No, no doctors with red in the name.”

“Crimson? I’ve heard of a Verdant Doctor, but no Crimson one.”

“Isn’t the famous doctor named Grey? Not Crimson?”

“Nah. Sounds hot though.”

“Seen him on a wanted poster, I know nothing else.”

And then, from someone who’d overheard Dial-Up asking all these people about The Crimson Doctor, “Why are you so interested in this guy?” 

“Investigations. I’m trying to track down an infamous escaped serial killer, and I think he might be allying with The Crimson Doctor.”

“Well, haven’t heard anything of a Crimson guy.”

The other question was “Have you heard of anyone known by Absolute Zero?” and the answers were coming in droves.

“Yep. Small guy, one of those Cybertron guys, spider, missing an eye?”

“I heard he lost his eye thanks to an Autobot spy.”

“Well, I heard he lost it to a Decepticon medic.”

“I heard he lost it to both!”

“Maybe he experimented on it. He makes his own biological torture devices. My Q-peep’s mom’s catdroid’s former owner told me so.”

“He’s kinda cute. Like, I know he’s small, and, y’know, a serial killer, but his thighs, and his eye, so red and pretty...”

“Look at his titty window, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t seeking love.”

Dial-Up couldn’t help but laugh at that one. “Okay- hehe- could- do any of you know where- where he could be? Did he visit here?”

“I mean, there were a couple of big, mechanical spiders outside, but it’s the National Spider Festival.“

Fuck, the National Spider Festival. “Any of them red?”

“A couple. He was here, definitely.”

“No spiderlike creatures can leave the planet during the National Spider Festival, so he’s probably still here.”

Dial-Up quickly took notes on their notepad, writing ‘National Spider Festival’ at the top of the page in big, red letters. “Thanks. Zero’s elusive, and it’s not easy to track him down.”

Conversation continued well into the night, about Absolute Zero, about themselves, about... quite unusual taste in men, with Dial-Up adjusting their audials as necessary to hear as many people and write down as much information as they possibly could.

In the end, they had a few pages of miscellaneous notes on where Absolute Zero could me, tidbits that these various organics knew about his life since him first becoming known as a serial killer. A little too much information on the National Spider Festival, too. Apparently, these creatures contributed heavily to the ecosystem, and domestication of spiders led to the production of spidersilk fabric, which was incredibly difficult to tear. 

Rivet sighed, when Dial-Up’s holoform returned to their body. “What sort of investigation was that?”

“It told me that Zero can’t leave this planet until the day after tomorrow.”

“What did you learn about Zero?”

“Who would personally know a serial killer and be willing to say so in a public space?! Though, apparently, people think he has nice thighs.”

Rivet looked incredibly disappointed. “We’ll rest in here. Tomorrow, we’ll seek him out. You’ll drive my altmode around, since yours might as well be a tool with how unable to function it is.”

“...that’s what we’re doing, then. Now, let me sleep this time.”

Silence from Rivet. Agreement.

The night was spent peacefully in the podship, slowly rerouting Celsius’ funds.

[pleasant-boi]

OK I'm still on wisdom tooth pain killers and I can't write shit so stuff for this AU where I give Akechi some parental figures to disappoint.

It is still going to be really, really bad. Akechi still gets involved with the conspiracy though he's like... 10% more mentally stable this time around due to some good influences.

By god we're getting you a fucking proper redemption arc bro.

I'm going to age the p3 cast a couple of years, since canonically there is a 5-6 year gap between the events of p3 and p5 if I remember correctly, and I want everyone to be adults ™ and in Tokyo for plot reasons when the p5 cast are children. I was thinking of maybe around 7 years? So Akihiko and Mitsuru are 25, Junpei and Yukari 24, Fuuka 23 and Ken 18 while the p5 cast are around 10-12...if my math is correct I'm gay ok?

Koromaru is not dying, persona makes animals immortal I don't make the rules I'm all for angst/whump but the dog lives. Koromaru insists on looking after strays so everyone in sees constantly fosters little animals - mostly Ken, but the others occasionally too, especially when Ken was exams

Is this also a convoluted way to give Akechi a puppy to bond with?

Yes, yes it is.

Basically adult!SEES with uni!Ken is like having cousins who live in the same city when you're in university. You love them you don't talk for months and suddenly you're around them for like a week straight. Ride or die (or ignore their existence for like 2 months straight because you were living ur life ™)

Ken is in his first year of uni in the beginning of this. He's studying to be a vet. Or maybe a doctor. Maybe he'll change majors in the future. Not sure. But I headcon him as wanting to get into something thats helps people like medicine and the boy has a soft spot for animals

Everyone is dealing with trauma. Other than Ken who like Arena (we're just using stuff we like from that game and ignoring the rest shh) stopped getting involved with shadow stuff and had a relatively normal rest of his childhood - with some help of Kirijo appointed therapists-, Junpei is the most well adjusted.

Everyone is still in a place where they feel due to the event's of p3 and after the death of p3mc, femc (twin AU! TWIN AU! ) and everyone else in their lives, getting close to people other than their group is... Hard.

Junpei is too busy loving his npc wife, so it's easier to ignore the bad stuff. He also has children. He cried when they were born for like a month straight. Thinking of them being twins, one of them having red hair like Chidori because of anime reasons ™.

Because of that they end up with a lot of impromptu sleep overs and basically everyone has a spare room except Ken because he's a student, Junpei because he has kids and even with Mitsuru being everyones unofficial platonic sugar mommy, that many rooms is expensive and Yukari who is the only one not officially living in Tokyo but she's there like 80% of the year for shootings and has a studio apartment.

They avoid gathering at Fuuka, because she insists on making food every time and while it is usually edible (or edibles lmao) she likes to experiment a lot. So it's a bet between normal food, maybe a bit burned sometimes but nowhere near as bad as in highschool or mystery food X.

I'm keeping Akihiko as a c- 🤮 as a cop, only because I found his reason for it in Arena super wholesome. If not maybe a police consultant. I'm still on the fence about it. Plus Mitsuru needs inside allies for shadow ops.

Speaking of Akihiko, that's how I'm giving Akechi parental figures!

One of Akechi's Foster homes locks him out when he doesn't come straight from school and this time they don't even let him in for the night.

Akechi kinda runs away, gets lost and ends up spending the night crying in some random alley before passing out.

If I'm keeping the cop ™ route maybe someone calls the police and Akihiko ends up checking it out. Or maybe he's out running in the middle of the night, because let's face it, probably no one could relax before 1am, anxiety about the dark hour some how returning and it's something Akihiko 'I deal with the deep terror of losing again everyone close to me by punching things, working my body to its limit and putting myself in danger but I'm definitely not an adrenaline junkie' Sanada would do

Speaking of which the investigation team definitely checks for the midnight chanell every time too

Akihiko sees a passed out kid in the middle of the night and of course he tries to help. He asks if he's lost etc and ultimately he asks and where are his parents.

It's mid fall so while the temperature isn't deadly it is cold out, maybe it's raining too, for the extra suffering/whump, and he's pushing a bit with the questions because the kid is definitely going to get pneumonia if he hasn't already.

Akechi doesn't really respond until the parent thing, almost screams about how his mom is dead and no body wants him around and starts crying again.

Akihiko has braincells, however none of them are any help with social interactions. Much less with a sobbing child in the middle of the night.

I'm not sure where to go exactly from here but Akechi clearly has a fever (and if we're going with the rain route especially he needs to get dry and warm asap) and is really against going to the hospital because 'they're going to kill me if there is a hospital bill' so either

a) Akihiko calls child services and takes him to the station and sits with him until they arrive or

b) he takes him back to his apartment for the night because it is late, the kid needs some sleep and blankets and he knows the system is underfunding and overworked at best so it would be better to just call them in the morning

That particular one can have some cute hurt/comfort with pancakes for breakfast because Akihiko is also pancake boi and Akechi crying again because no one has been nice to him in years

Anyway, both end with Akihiko giving Akechi his number and telling him to call if something bad happens again.

Akechi doesn't. At least for a little something over half a year. He's in a really bad foster home and one night he ends up locked in the hall closet, trying not to cry because even breathing hurts but if he did make more noise it would be worse.

He has the number memorised by now and when he tries to curl up in the small space and feels a cellphone in a fallen jacket (remember the 2000s where most people used their cells only outside or when you wanted to talk to your crush?) , he takes it out, heart beating loudly before sending a series of panicked texts explaining the situation

He doesn't really think that it's going to do anything because there isn't a response but the small part of him that hoped something would go right for once still hurts

Meanwhile Akihiko didn't even think about replying because he almost had to be physically restrained from running there and punching the shit out of them

It's not even 20 minutes later when the police comes with Akihiko and at that point Akechi is almost unconscious, but starts screaming and banging against the locked door when he hears the commotion, immediately passing out when he feels it open

When he comes to he's a in a hospital, getting yelled by a social worker about how he has to change homes again some soon and it his fault and Akechi just bites his lips, trying to tune it out and not cry again.

Akihiko overhears all that and while he would normally just leave it to the proper authority and is nowhere near close to the ready for a responsibility like that, is like 'fuck it temporarily custody until he's healed and also I'm giving this kid some proper food and a couple of punching lessons'

There's more but this is already getting long asdvyrsvgjcw

[post-itpenny]

The Regret

A sequel to The Challenge.

Just as ridiculous as the first time. 

Dwight’s anxiety had skyrocketed to a level he never thought possible. Two trials after his run-in with The Legion and he had hardly slept, he couldn’t focus at all in trials, at the campfire he was always looking over his shoulder as if half expecting the masked teens to be right behind him.

Dwight adjusted his glasses as he made his way through the collection of tents and fragile structures that made up the survivors camp, coming to a small lean-to at the camp’s edge. Jake, like many of the vetran survivors, had plenty of time to gather the materials needed to make a more stable shelter. They never had to worry about rain but a warm place to sleep was still a luxury, Dwight had gone through enough nights sleeping by the fire without so much as a blanket to know this. He found Jake sitting outside the lean-to salvaging what was left of a beaten-up tool kit.

“I messed up.”

“I heard… Nea told everyone.”

Dwight sighed as he ran his hands through his hair, of course she told everyone.

“What am I going to do?”

Jake didn’t answer right away, instead taking the time to clean a few spare gears he had picked up somewhere. Dwight was used to this, he and Jake were two of the few that had been here the longest and understood Jake liked to take his time in answering; just as cool and level headed as always. Dwight once questioned Claudette why people didn’t see Jake more as a leader. Her answer was short- “he’s not meant for that pressure, that’s you.”

Jake finished his work, snapping the toolbox close before looking up at Dwight. “You and I both know the Legion has the combined attention span of a walnut. Keep low and give it a few trials, I garuntee someone else will do something stupid enough to outdo you.”

Dwight relaxed a little, Jake really did have a point.

The very next trial and someone really did outdo Dwight in level of stupid.

David King was running from The Huntress, as she threw a hatchet Feng screamed “yeet!” from behind and the killer just snapped. Pivoting on the ball of her foot and charging at the survivor with a speed Feng never thought her capable of. David panicked, Feng was on her third hook and he had to do something. David dashed ahead of the Huntress just as she threw a hatchet at Feng Min-

And David caught it.

Perhaps it was his previous life as a rugby player, or the power of adrenaline…. or maybe just pure dump luck. But David caught the hatchet by it’s handle, the blade inches from his face.

For once The Huntress was silent, staring open-mouthed in shock. David was surprised as well, looking at his wide-eyed reflection in the polished blade.

Feng however recovered quickly, dashing off without a second glance. The Huntress shook her head and yanked her hatchet free of David’s hand, taking off after the other survivor. Feng Min was hooked a few minutes later, David however didn’t come to his senses until the gonging of a bell triggered the endgame collapse. He and Adam being the only two to make it out that round.

That evening David’s catch was the only thing they could talk about. Truly legendary and what would be regarded by some of the survivors as King’s finest moment. The next day David was a part of the trial against The Nurse, the strange spirit seeming to regard the survivor with… uncertainty? It was very hard to tell what the apparition was feeling considering she wore a bag over her head and all. After a few minutes she seemed to make a decision-

And mori’ed him on the spot.

None of her usual soft regret came afterwards but Steve, who had been hiding nearby, swore on his ranger med kit he heard The Nurse rasp what sounded eerily like “yeet” before teleporting off.

When Dwight heard the story it was through Nea cackling about how The Nurse yeets herself around the map much to an annoyed David’s chagrin who was still struggling to get his breath back. Claudette fussing over him saying the killer really did a number on his windpipe.

Dwight chewed his nails, this wasn’t right, and he had a bad feeling it would get worse.

Two trials later and Nea was sneaking around Lery’s, with Nancy and Adam already dead it was just her and Tapp stuck with three generators. It didn’t help Nea was for once without a flashlight

She had just started working on a generator when spine chill went off. With no heartbeat she could only assume the killer, whoever it was, was either just out of range or had concealed themselves. Nea snuck away into the shadows, rounding a corner and climbing into a nearby locker despite her better judgment.

Nea held her breath, maybe it was Michael? He normally didn’t check lockers and she could get lucky. Unless it was-

“Boo!” Ghost Face laughed as he yanked open the locker door. Nea screamed and backed away only for the killer to grab her shoulder and pull her out of the locker. There was a bright flash and Nea found herself blinking away spots as the killer held up the screen of his camera for them both to see.

It was a picture of The Ghost Face and a panicked and confused looking Nea, the killer giving her a set of bunny ears.

“Yup, that’s definitely going on the wall.” Ghost Face chuckled, “ok Punk Rock you have two seconds.”

Nea was still trying to regain her sight, “wh-what?”

“One second.”

The survivor bolted, crashing into a stray gurney as she did so.

Nea probably wouldn’t have said anything except several copies of the picture were found on the log benches around the campfire soon after. They all laughed until Tapp asked the question of how the pictures got there.

The implications put them all on edge after that.

Dwight had become a nervous wreck, chewing off what was left of his nails as he made his way to one of the largest tents in the camp.

Nancy and Zarina had become instant friends over their love of investagative journalism. Nancy had been quick to begin documenting everything she could the moment she and Steve had first stepped into The Fog. She enlisted Jane to take every survivor’s testimony while she used every trial she was in to explore the nooks and crannies of the different realms to learn what she could. When Zarrina arrived these efforts were doubled. The tent served as a home base where their findings were stored and catalogued. Dwight, having never ventured inside before, was very surprised to see a map of each trial ground on display and an even larger map of The Fog half finished on a table.  

“These aren’t the normal maps,” he observed.

Zarina looked up from her writing with a grin, “correct!” Nancy had the idea to use a couple of the generator maps- along with a lot of observation- to make a detailed map of every trial. We found the totems, exit gates, and hatch don’t actually spawn at random! The Entity seems to like following patterns and will manifest these in a few choice locations.”

“No wonder you two find totems so fast!” Dwight gasped as he looked over the nearest map of Haddonfield in amazement at the detail. “So the larger map-”

“It’s a guessing game I guess,” Nancy chimed in. “We looked at how long it takes to enter a trial, what direction we were facing at the campfire vs. direction facing at the start of a trial, stuff like that. We could be wrong though… but we could also be right.”

Dwight looked at the maps in awe, then to the scraps of paper, stitched together notebooks, and folders that sat in stacks around the tent. It was all very impressive.

“Did you need something Dwight?”

Dwight shook his head, focussing again. “Y-yeah you guys have been taking notes on the killers yeah? H-have you noticed if-”

“They have been acting off yes!” Zarina grinned, grabbing three folders and flipping them open.

Inside were drawings Jeff had done of The Nurse, Ghost Face, and Wraith along with several pages on each killer.

“So yesterday Ash and Kate got back from a match saying The Wraith just followed people around ringing his bell the whole time. He even camped Yui after hooking her and rang that stupid bell in her face until The Entity came for her. Weird right?”

“Yeah I gue-”

“Then Nurse hardly says anything yeah? I think the most anyone heard was Nea who said the killer spent a whole match whispering some name over and over. Andy- Andr… I don’t know, Nea didn’t quite catch it. But what IS important is that The Nurse saying “yeet.”

“Though it was Steve,” Nancy pointed out, “he’s kinda dum-”

“But he is our only witness and no one has said that word in Nurse’s match at least in front of her AND she understood what it meant.” Zarina pointed out. “So with Ghost Face and the picture I now have a running theory.”

“What’s your th-”

“My theory is that perhaps just as the survivors can interact with each other outside of trials so can the killer’s! The Huntress must have said what happened in the trial with David-”

“So The Nurse got revenge?” Dwight questioned. “Why would she do anything?”

Zarina frowned, “first of all it’s rude to cut people off like that Dwight. But yes it may be that. My theory is that the killers are having a game of their own. Why else would Wraith and Ghost Face act so off?”

Dwight felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, “so would The Legion-”

“Sure why not,” Zarina reasoned with a shrug of her shoulders. “They’re a bunch of teenagers. Hell it might even have been their idea for all we know.” Zarina paused, as if she suddenly remembered something. “Hey Dwight, didn’t you-”

Dwight passed out again.

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 34/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Rey sat in the grass, contemplating the decision she had to make. The car was ready. BB8 was chasing crickets around.  Right now, almost no one knew her location on the remote campground. But she couldn’t stay there forever. She was furious at Ben...but somehow she couldn’t forget about the night they had spent together. Just thinking about it sent shivers down her spine.  

No, she had to act rationally.

It was a mistake to let Leia and Ben take advantage of her. She had been too rash, too trusting for her own good. She didn’t doubt Syed’s intentions; she had also seen Skylar’s brutality with her own eyes. And something told her they wouldn’t be fooled by bear spray twice. She wished she had been even firmer with Ben that it was his responsibility to reign in the lunatics on his team...

But the doubts crept in. What if he couldn’t do it? Or, what if he didn’t actually want to? Worse yet, what if he never really loved her at all? It was hard to wrap her head around his actions. His kisses were ardent, by all accounts he was even more earnest than he had been that night in Jackson Hole.

Sleeping with him hadn’t felt like a trophy fuck or a one night stand, she had felt like an empress. He’d been so focused on her pleasure, on unraveling her with a gentleness that almost seemed out of character. Still as driven as ever, but sweeter, somehow. No one had made love to her like that in ages.

Was that all in order to get his hands on the microchip? Beneath all her righteous anger she’d hoped that it had been a misunderstanding. Maybe then it would’ve been less painful.

Maybe it was time to embrace the obvious: Cupid had it out for her. Just like with Finn, when things were finally looking up, everything came crashing down.

What now?

She thumbed through her contacts mindlessly. She ought to check in on Poe, but she hardly felt like it. Calling Jessica seemed even worse.

It rang just then, startling her.

Ben Solo.

Was he about to tell her that Syed had been put in the naughty corner? Probably not.

“Yes, Ben?” She sighed.

“Please don’t hang up.”

She wasn’t going to, but it was nice of him to insist. She relented.

“What is it this time?”

“Syed and Skylar are looking for the Falcon. You can’t hope to get away in that car.”

“I see you haven’t been successful in convincing them to leave me alone. Also, this is escalating rather quickly, isn’t it?”

“Look, I’m sorry I put you in this situation, I—“

“Yeah, I suppose you should be,” Rey tried to cut  him off, but Ben was determined.

“Whatever I did before, I regret it, and I’m trying to protect you now. So let me finish. You need to change cars.”

She snorted derisively. “Do you think I have that kind of money? Besides, your mother trusted me with the Falcon, am I really just suppose to let it rot somewhere?”

“No, no, don’t worry. I’m sending Kelsi Ren your way. Switch with her, and try to gain a few hours on Syed and Skylar.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You won’t make it past ten miles. Syed’s out for blood.”

“Is that a threat?”

Ben hesitated to respond. Rey could hear his uneven breathing on the other side.

“Rey, I know I fucked up,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t have to forgive me, but you have to trust me.”

“Trust is a big ask. As for forgiveness, we’ll see. I guess I don’t have a choice about the car...”

“I’m not trying to force you, but it’s your best option. I mean it.”

Rey rolled her eyes. Really, what alternative did she have? She sighed again.

“When will Kelsi be here?”

“Ten minutes, she’s on the way. When she gets there, switch the registration papers too. Don’t talk to her, don’t answer any questions.”

“It’s not like I’ll invite her to tea,” she grumbled as she hung up.

Ben wasn’t kidding: a large Lincoln Nautilus pulled up next to the Millenium Falcon in a matter of minutes. To Rey’s chagrin, it wasn’t quite large enough to fit her mattress, so they were back to sleeping in the car. At least this one had air conditioning. That would be a welcome change.

She supposed she should call Leia about the Falcon soon. She had promised to deliver both the car and the dog, but perhaps Leia would be receptive to the “looming killers” argument. Desperate times called for desperate measures...

Kelsi emerged from the car. Rey had seen her on stage before, but she was different out of costume, in broad daylight. She looked good in her ripped jeans and hiking boots, though she appeared younger now. Short platinum blonde hair framed her face, which was well-hidden beneath a combination of dark sunglasses and a tattered shawl that wrapped around her shoulders.

“Are you Rey?” She asked casually as she approached.

“Yeah. Here’s my car,” she replied, gesturing to the aging Oldmobile Cruiser.

The blonde grimaced, muttering something about a shitty last minute plan under her breath.

“Here’s the keys and the papers. The tank is loaded. Where’re you headed?”

Ben’s voice echoed in Rey’s head: don’t answer any questions. She realized it was time to play the clueless tourist again, since everyone seemed to think she excelled at the role.

"I don’t know,” she said, giving Kelsi her blankest smile. “I’ll just hit the road I guess. Go wherever life takes me.”

“Whatever,” Kelsi grumbled, mostly to herself. In an almost mechanical gesture, she handed Rey the keys and the registration document.

Now it was time to move the contents of the Falcon. Rey cleared out the glovebox, suddenly noticing that the toy car was gone. She panicked when she realized that Luke’s address was still there. Had Ben found it the other night? If that was the case, he now knew her location and her destination. And that meant he knew his uncle’s address. But he never once said anything. Another day, another game of hide and seek.

“Ugh, this piece of crap reeks of dog!” Kelsi complained. Behind her, Rey snorted. Good luck with that, princess.

Finally, Rey moved BB8’s toys and food bowl to the back seat of the Lincoln before getting behind the wheel. The engine revved up smoothly, and she instantly knew this was a major upgrade compared to the Falcon. It also came with a leather interior, GPS, and Bluetooth. Score! The rest of this trip was going to be so much fun.

She put her sunglasses on and adjusted her seat. Time to hit the road again!

For a little while she basked in the feeling of relief, forgetting that she was currently a crazy old woman’s pawn with no other plans in life, on the run from a pair of assassins and leagues away from her dying ex-husband.

She drove carefully out of Bozeman on Highway 89. She connected her phone to the Bluetooth system, finally deciding to give Poe a call. The conversation was brief as Finn was stable and nothing had changed. Rey neglected to mention her own circumstances because she didn’t want her friends in England to worry more than they already did.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t as scared as before. Was this her new normal—travelling alone, confronting bears, flirting with rockstars, and outrunning gangs? Despite the risks, she had never felt more alive.  

She slowed the car as she approached what looked like a police barricade. Rey was about to pull the window down when the officer standing there motioned for her to keep going.

But by now her good humor had suddenly disappeared. Ben had said that she wouldn’t make it ten miles in the Falcon. Was this barricade the proof? Did FORCE really have the means to intercept her like that? The idea was so terrifying that she pushed it away.

She was headed even further west, in the direction of Idaho. It was 8 AM now. If she drove for another twelve hours, she could spend the night in Reno, Nevada. From there, San Francisco would only be four hours away. Rey would find Luke Skywalker, give him his dog and the microchip, and live the rest of her average life in peace.

Eventually, she would have to call Leia Skywalker, but right now she needed some dial-in advice from her Fairy Godmother.

“Rey, good morning! How was the concert?”

Concert? Maz’s question was brimming with so much enthusiasm that it took Rey’s brain scrambled to catch up. Ah yes, that concert. Before...before everything. The old woman listened patiently as Rey explained the events of that night, and the unexpected consequences.

“Rey. Rey! Listen to me, I don’t quite get the story behind this micro-SD thing, but it sounds important. So as far as I understand, group A hid this thing on you without your knowledge, and group B, the gang, is looking for it. And you’re angry at group A but you forgive them, while also being in love with the leader of group B, who you’re in a spat with right now. Is that it?”

“I am not in love with—“ her voice broke off mid-sentence.

Who was she kidding? She couldn’t even lie to herself anymore.

Maz was silent, allowing Rey to internalize her revelation.

“What about him?” She asked Rey gently, “Is he not in love either?”

“I don’t know, Maz. He’s been chasing  me for a week with his smoldering looks and his  but-I’m-a-sentimental-beast  love songs. And last night he was—“

Rey sighed.

“Last night he was so genuine. Or so I thought. I believed his affections, and I believed his words too. But this morning he was sending me mixed signals. On one hand he was rummaging through my stuff while I slept, but on the other he just gave me a new car.”

“Rey, I’ve met Syed. She didn’t seem like a very nice woman. I’m willing to believe that she will hurt you, especially now that she has a bone to pick. So why is Kylo Ren risking himself to protect you, after he put you in danger?”

“Ben Solo. It’s Ben Solo who’s trying to protect me, not Kylo Ren.”

“What’s the difference?”

As Rey mulled the question over in her head, it dawned on her that she had always seen a clear distinction between Kylo Ren and Ben Solo. Why?

“Kylo Ren is just a persona. He’s a spy who operates the gears and collects the debts for FORCE. Ben Solo has a more complicated backstory involving his parents, and he doesn’t stand a chance against real villains like Syed Ren. He was the one who kissed me last night.”

“And the man who was looking for the microchip as you slept, who was he?”

“Definitely not the same guy who offered me a car so that I could escape.”

“It looks to me like this boy has a lot of soul-searching to do. I don’t know if you can help with his problems. Take the car for now and get as far away from them as you can! Go find yourself some shelter and let the boy figure out his own life. He’ll come back to you if he really means to.”

Rey contemplated this in silence. It was simple enough to worry about herself for now and let Ben come back when he was ready. It seemed reasonable, doable.

When their conversation came to an end, Rey stopped at Three Forks to get breakfast and buy a few more supplies for the journey. Ideally, she would make as few stops as possible to really stay ahead. Feeling a renewed sense of determination, she was ready to face the world again.

This part of the Rockies was different than the area east of the Teton, which she had passed on arrival. In Wyoming she had driven past dry mountain prairies that were almost desert-like. The other side of the mountain chain was much hillier, reminiscent of the Alpine countryside. She spotted grassy knolls, valleys, and snowy mountain peaks set against the flowery plains.

She followed the valley south, feeling lighter and lighter with each passing kilometer. There was no one behind her. No menacing SUV, no Syed in sight. Could it be that all her worries were immaterial?

Well, there was one person she still had to worry about contacting: Leia Skywalker.