#crime scene cleaner fanfic

[perry-the-platypus-f1cs]

Blood for the price of money PT3

Chapter 3: Oh daughter, forgive me.

Summary:

Kovalsky really hopes that this all a dream, his life and his daughters rested on his shoulders and the money he made from this job. But most importantly he knows he couldn't survive prison.

When Kovalsky woke up, the first thing he felt was the deep throbbing in the front of his head and the rope digging into his wrists, strapping him to

Oh, fuck.

He was strapped to a chair, a paper bag over his head. A deep spike of fear rises in his chest; feverish, swirling thoughts bang around in his mind. Did he mess up? Was this Big Jim? Or the cartel? 

No, no, that couldn’t be. He had done his job; he had cleaned up the mess. But…he hadn't finished it. The bodies are still rotting in the back of the car he was given by the cartel. A gruesome testament to his failure.

His mind swims trying to understand what had happened, the world spinning around him, the pain in his head fading. Before he had fallen unconscious, he had heard a voice...male; it had an accent...Scottish maybe? Fuck. What the hell has he gotten into?

He knew that the job came with risks, being involved with many unsavoury types of people—from hackers using smart devices to turn occupants into selling houses for less to apartments owned by those in debt to the wrong people—but nothing like this had ever happened. Had he been caught? Was he being held by the police? No…if he was being held by the police, he would have been told, right? 

He let a shuddering breath rip through him, his eyes blinking behind the paper bag; his vision was a sea of brown with splotches of light presumably from lights above him and the front of him, his breathing growing more erratic with each moment that passed.

The ropes around his ankles and wrists keeping him trapped to the chair were strong; his wrists had started to burn in pain as he tried to tug himself free, his wrists rolling against the ropes rough surface, his heart hammering in his chest.

He wasn't going anywhere, and all he could do now was wait for his captors to show—that is, if they do show. Kovalsky had seen an example of one of Jim’s patrons being locked in a room for weeks on end until they were dead, and Jim had called him to clean up the mess.

 That experience was one of the more disturbing jobs he had done; Kovalsky just hopes that isn't the case for what is going to happen to him; he hasn't done anything to earn death, has he? He knew that if you stepped on the wrong people's toes, you could end up dead, but he hadn't done anything. Unless…

The man he had exchanged words with in the elevator comes to mind. He was dressed differently, expensively. Fuck, what if Kovalsky had been wrong? What if that man was really El Sin Nombre and not Valeria? Had he misplaced his respect? 

Then. He heard voices; they were muffled, but he could still make out a few words. His curiosity now piqued, he spits in his chair, and surprisingly, the chair moved with him.

His eyes widened as he shuffled some more, the chair scraping along the floor loudly as he moved. Then he hit a wall; it was metal and grooved inward and outward again in large chunks, and then it clicked: he was in a shipping container.

The voices continued now a little louder thanks to Kovalsky's proximity to the wall.

“—Escorted to the mountains without incident.” A familiar female voice chimes sarcastically, ‘Fuck.’ Kovalsky thinks to himself as he cranes his neck to hear more, ‘Valeria’s here as well.’ He concludes as her mocking voice continues to bleed through the wall, “-also to prevent bloodshed.” Her voice was soft yet incredibly mocking and sarcastic. Kovalsky can almost imagine her tilting her head as she glares at whoever she’s talking to.

Another voice speaks up, “He was supposed to go to prison.” The voice was male, a Spanish accent prevalent in his voice; his tone was disappointed. ‘Do they know each other?’ Kovalsky thinks his brows are creasing at the possibility. 

The sound of echoing footsteps is quickly followed by another male voice: “So you killed him, and you took over.” It wasn't a question, more of a statement than anything, but what threw Kovaslky off was the voice’s accent; it was American, and by the sounds of it, definitely southern.

Valeria’s response follows soon after: “I created a power vacuum, and I filled it. Las Almas needs me. Her voice was biting, and he couldn’t help but think back to the time he had to clean up a mess Big Jim had made when Kovalsky first started working for him.

It was Big Jim's cousins and another warlord who had planned to take over the family business. The memory of the blood-soaked spa and relaxation centre sent shivers down Kovalsky's spine. Come to think of it, if they had succeeded, he probably wouldn’t be in this position.

Another voice spoke up, biting right back at Valeria. “Las Almas needs soldiers, not sicarios.” Again, it was a Spanish male voice, but it was harsher than the previous one, more angered and targeted. A few more words were said, some in Spanish and others that Kovalsky couldn’t catch before his ears honed in once more. “—What you won’t do, your competitors will.” Valeria's voice now cleanly cut through the metal; her tone was calm, which was the exact opposite of what Kovalsky was feeling currently. 

“You're a narco harbouring a terrorist.” 

What the fuck.

The words were spoken by a gruff male voice, British, each syllable biting into Kovalsky's skin like tiny knives.

The words faded out of focus as Kovalsky felt his head spinning, ‘What the fuck?’ The mantra repeated over and over, his thoughts racing faster than before, ‘What the fuck?’ This time Kovalsky had no idea if he said it out loud, but judging by the now silence emanating from the other container, he assumed they had heard him. “Shit...” he whispered despite the totally fucked situation he found himself straining to listen to the muffled words.

“Speaking of third parties, who's your new employee? We found him with some bodies in the back of one of your cars." The harsh British voice questioned Valeria's eerily calm voice, responding after a few seconds that felt like years to Kovalsky. “A little helper sent over by an ally who was cleaning up a little mess your vaqueros made.” The only reply that was given to her words was a small hum. 

The other words faded into the background as Kovalsky's heartbeat sounded in his ears. He was working for a CARTEL LEADER who was helping a FUCKING TERRORIST!? Kovalsky's mind couldn’t wrap around it. He should have stayed a fucking school janitor, but his sweet, sweet daughter—

Footsteps were approaching; Kovalsky tensed, shifting his weight, trying to shift his chair back into its original position. He grunts as the chair flips, the back hitting the ground with a loud thud.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck!” he hisses, trying to bring himself upright but failing to do so. The sharp sound of a door screeching open made his heart stop, his body tensed, his shoulders brought up to his ears, trying to make himself seem smaller, his fists clenching, waiting.

Footsteps clamoured around him; the sound of boots hitting the floor repeatedly told Kovalsky that he was no longer alone.

Rough, gloved hands grasp the armrests of the chair and jolt him upright, the chair righting itself, the metal clanging against the floor. Once he was upright, the bag was ripped free off of his head.

Kovalsky heaved in a breath of fresh air, eyes squeezing shut at the onslaught of light that bombarded his eyes. He blinked rapidly, his eyes slowly adjusting as they watered slightly.

“Mr. Kovalsky, school janitor, born in New York, raised in New Orleans. You want to start telling us why you had seven bodies shoved in the back of a car before we hand you over to the police for tampering with evidence, criminal facilitation, obstruction of justice, and accessory after the fact?”

The words washed over Kovalsky like cold water, and his greatest nightmare had become reality.

He was caught.

Notes:

new chapter! holy hell I did not think I would take this long to write, I hope you all enjoy this and are looking forward to the hell I'm about to put Kovalsky through! thank you all for your support it really means a lot to me!

[one-of-thewalkingdead]

So I started playing the Crime Scene Cleaner game that was released on Steam yesterday, and I can tell you right now, I need some Kovalsky fanfic

[stickthisbig]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hitman (Video Games), Crime Scene Cleaner (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Agent 47 (Hitman), Ozonator (Crime Scene Cleaner), Kovalsky (Crime Scene Cleaner) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Chance Meetings, Canon-Typical Gore Summary:

Agent 47 is on his way out.

--

Probably I should round up the stories that I wrote for Yuletide? But before that, a silly little thing I wrote because I couldn’t stop thinking about it while playing Crime Scene Cleaner

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 13/34 - cinnamon rolls

[Read on AO3]

It’s a little awkward at first, but he gets the sense that she just doesn’t want to be alone after what happened with Pfaster, and he can’t fault her for that. The crime scene cleaners left the place spotless, even had some furniture replaced using some of the insurance money, and he’s thankful that that’s one less thing they need to worry about.

Eventually they fall into a rhythm—commuting to work together, dividing household chores, adding his name to the lease... By the last week of January, he’s almost completely moved in, and things have been good. Really good. It surprises him how little he misses his own apartment and the life he built there. It was never a home.

Scully’s apartment… Well, he can see it becoming one.

He wakes on a Saturday to the sound of knocking on the door, bolting upright, suddenly wide awake. He glances at the time on the clock in the kitchen. Just after 8 a.m.

After the last unwelcome visitor to this address, he's understandably on edge. He briefly wonders if he should have his weapon handy, when the knock sounds again, this time followed by the gentle call of “Dana?”

Maggie. Uh oh.

He rubs his face frantically, smoothing his hair and trying to make himself look like he wasn't asleep just a minute ago. Sure, it might seem like a logical thing to do, to inform his partner’s mother that he now lives with her. But that would mean admitting to a fair few other things that she’s decidedly not ready to tell her, so for now, his mother-in-law remains in the dark.

He hurriedly folds the blanket he was using and throws it and the pillow into the spare bedroom.

He opens the door to Scully's room, hoping she's decent, and whispers loudly, "Scully! Scully, your mom's at the door!"

He gets a muffled, "Huh?" in response before her brain catches up to what he'd said, and she sits up.

It's too early to explain. If they tell her he's moving in, they'll have to tell her about their marriage and the appointment they went to at the adoption agency. They aren't ready for that.

"Should I hide in the other room?" he asks as she stands and puts on her robe.

"Like you're some high school boyfriend I snuck in, Mulder?" she says incredulously as she passes him. "Just go sit on the couch."

He does as she asks, turning on the TV at a low volume and attempting to sit as casually as possible on the couch.

She casts an amused glance at him before opening the door.

"Hi, Mom."

"Dana, did I wake you?"

"Uh, no, I was just getting ready," she lies.

"I would have come later, but I brought breakfast," Maggie says, gesturing with a dish covered in tin foil. "I wanted to see how you're doing. May I come in?"

Scully glances over her shoulder for a second before nodding and stepping aside to allow her mother to enter.

"I brought cinnamon rolls and fruit salad and—” her eyes settle on the unexpected occupant on the couch. “Oh! Hello, Fox!"

He can tell he's caught her off guard.

"Hi Mrs. Scully." He smiles, trying not to cringe at the awkwardness suddenly filling the room.

Mrs. Scully turns to her daughter. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had company!"

"Mulder came over to help me go through some stuff to donate," Scully lies again, nodding toward the pile of boxes they have yet to unpack from Mulder's apartment. Good thing he doesn't have his personal items scattered all around yet. Score one for procrastination.

"Oh, do you need any help?" Maggie asks, setting her tray down and taking a step in their direction.

"NO!" Scully says a little too loudly, holding out a hand. "No, that's okay. There's not that much left to do."

"Alright..." Maggie says unsurely, returning to her task of readying their breakfast. "Fox, there's plenty of food,” she adds, glancing up at him kindly. “You're welcome to join us."

He's not sure if it would be better or worse to decline politely, but his growling stomach makes the choice for him.

"Sounds great," he says, standing to join them in the kitchen.

Mrs. Scully's eyes travel down to the plaid pajama pants he wears, then back up with an unreadable smile.

"Laundry day," he says as an excuse, as if he would ever leave the house like this for no reason at all.

She nods, then shakes her head in amusement and unwraps the foil from the pan.

"I'm going to warm these in the oven. Fox, would you mind brewing some coffee?"

"Mom, I can—" Scully tries, but Mulder is quicker.

"I got it, Scully." 

While Maggie is turned away, he collects the coffee mugs that are distinctly his from the cabinet and hides them on the top shelf where they won't be visible. Instead, he extracts three matching ones, all cream colored and coordinated as only Scully could be.

Breakfast passes about as awkwardly as the entire morning has, so far. Mulder manages to stuff a pile of adoption documents into a drawer just before Maggie sees them, and Scully thankfully prevents her from insisting on helping to put food away in the fridge, which is a lot more full now that more than one person lives here. Maggie asks Scully how she's doing, if she has any travel plans, and he decides he'll die on the spot if Scully tells her about their upcoming trip to Los Angeles for a movie premiere that ought to take a few years off his life. Thankfully, she remains tight-lipped about that one. He suspects her hopes for the film are about as high as his, which is to say, not high at all.

Eventually, he starts nervously glancing at the clock, watching the time tick closer and closer to when he's supposed to be at his apartment to arrange the transport of his larger furniture with the movers. If Mrs. Scully doesn't leave soon, he'll have to make up some excuse and leave himself, and Scully won't be able to come as she had planned.

"Mom, I hate to push you out the door, but Mulder and I have some stuff to take care of today," Scully comments, and Mulder suppresses a sigh of relief.

Maggie's eyes widen. The last thing she wants is to be a burden. "Of course!” she says. “I'll let you two get to it. Thanks for letting me drop in."

Scully gives a placid smile. "Thank you for breakfast."

She brushes off her thanks, busying herself with gathering up the dishes she’d brought over, then starting toward the door. "Bye, Fox," she directs toward him on her way out, offering a small wave goodbye.

He reciprocates with a nod and a forced smile. "Bye, Mrs. Scully."

His partner walks her mother to the door, whispering softly as they go. He can still hear them talking in low voices while he gets started on washing the dishes, the elder Scully’s words meant for her daughter’s ears only. He slows his movements, listening in over the sound of sloshing water as best as he can, curiosity getting the best of him.

"I'm your mother, Dana, I can tell when you're lying," Maggie says, her tone admonishing.

He can't hear what, if anything, Dana says in response. If she does speak, it's so quiet that it's beyond the capabilities of his hearing, despite his best efforts.

"If I were in your shoes, I'd feel safer if Fox were sleeping on my couch too, honey, you don't need to be embarrassed,” her mother continues. “It's okay to need someone, especially after what you've been through."

Scully sighs. "That's not…” she starts, then gives up and finishes with, “Okay, yeah, thanks Mom."

"You call me if you need anything," Maggie tells her.

Scully smiles. "I will. I love you."

"Love you too, sweetie.” She wraps her daughter in a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek before pulling away. “Next time I'll call before I stop by, hmm?"

He can tell Scully is blushing just by the sound of her voice.

"I– I think that would be a good idea."

"Have a good day, Dana." Then, louder, "You too, Fox."

He gives one last awkward wave goodbye from the sink, and she leaves.

Scully puts her face in her hands as soon as she's gone, and groans.

"The secret lives to see another day," Mulder announces triumphantly, setting the dish drying towel aside with a wry smile. Scully shoots him a look, and he relents. "If this gets too hard, you can tell her, you know."

"No, it's fine,” she says, waving him off. “She just can't drop by and visit like that anymore. It's not going to work."

He presses his lips together, wondering if maybe they had rushed into things a little. He hopes she doesn’t regret it.

"I'm sorry, Scully,” he apologizes. “Maybe we should have waited."

She shakes her head, which comes as an instant relief to him. "Either way, this would have happened eventually,” she says. “But if this adoption doesn't work out..."

"It will," he says without hesitating.

"What if it doesn't?"

Not an option, he thinks.

"Then I can just get another apartment," he answers with a shrug.

She stares at him incredulously. "After going through all this trouble to get rid of the one you have now?” she asks. “Maybe it's not too late to hold onto it, you can tell them you've changed your mind."

He looks at her. "Is that what you want me to do?" he asks.

Her shoulders deflate. "I just don't want this to be harder than it needs to be if your plans fall through," she admits, concern pinching her eyebrows together.

This is one of those moments, he knows, where they need to be really clear with communication. It doesn’t come easily to either of them, but it matters. He hopes his next question will bring some clarity to the discussion, as much as her potential answer terrifies him.

"So if we don't end up adopting, you'd rather I go?"

Once the words are out, he watches closely for her response, trying to guess what she’s thinking by the look on her face.

Her confusion does nothing to alleviate his unease.

"Why would you stay?" she asks.

That’s easy, he thinks.

"Better company than at my place," he answers with a shrug.

He can see her thinking over his response, assessing him to see if he’s joking or not. It seems she—rightfully—comes to the correct conclusion. He’s dead serious.

"I– I'd want you to stay,” she says finally, her words providing him with the reassurance he needed. “The number of times we've both had our places broken into, I'd feel a lot better if..."

"I couldn't agree more,” he interrupts, smiling wide.

"And we spend almost every day together anyway,” she continues. “And when we travel, one of us always has to drive across town to pick the other up…"

"Logistically, we should have done this years ago," he finishes for her, and oh , how true that is. There’s a lot of things he should have done years ago.

She laughs. "I haven't had a roommate since med school."

"You smell a lot better than the one I had at Oxford," he jokes.

Her answering eye roll is worth every second he had to share a room with Reginald Butts, an aptly named law student. 

"Thanks for that, Mulder. I'm sure that's high praise."

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[lyranix1201]

(part 1)Here are some of the plot summary of the nevermore fanfic that I have been writing or that I will write in the future:

(before I start, I am very sorry about all of the spelling mistakes on this post. my computer doesn't have a autocorrect feature, for some reason or I just can’t figure out why it doesn’t work. two of the summarys of the fanfic that I was writing, are on this post. that I Luckily had placed on one of my draft before my phone broke. so they are here. I have somehow saved them from being lost for eternity :)

(Mafia/ cleaning service AU)

Who's there?! Nevermore Cleaning service.(Current name for this fanfic. all of them might change in the future.)

Having a job as a cleaner is quite boring, but knowing that your life is on the line if you don't do your job properly—is terrifying. The well-known company known as Nevermore Cleaning Service, also known as N.C.S for short, never puts on their job description that it is associated with the mafia. Being a cleaner for the mob has its ups and downs and Lenore knows that better than anyone. She has experience it all, the bad and the worst. She learned very quickly in her career, that being an employee of this company, means that you have to do the dirty work, that no one wants to do.

Cleaning away the blood, disposing of the bodies well listening to jazz or classical music is oddly satisfying, to say the least. Sometimes if you’re lucky you don't have to do your job alone, but that also means that there are more bodies in your disposal. When there is too much work, they will grouped you up with three other people. Like in the case of Lenore, that's how she met three of her best friend, Duke, Pluto and Berenice.

On one of those boring days of cleaning, Lenore became acquaintances with someone new. She met the daughter of one of the most well-known mafia leaders in town, Annabelle Lee withlock. She met this girl at one of the most unpredictable location, a crime scene, of all places. Annabelle lee stated that “she didn't do it” but Lenore wasn't convinced in the slightest. Especially after meeting her more frequently, because of some random body that is laying on the floor.

Or

Lenore cleanse up crime scene's for a living, with her three friends (Pluto, Duke, Berenice). One day, she meets Annabelle lee on one of those crime scene. In Lenore's words she was acting weird (sus), they ended up fall in love. The end.

(I can literally imagine Annabelle lee killing some random person, just so that she can spend time with Lenore.)

[this fanfic is inspired by a video game called "Crime Scene Cleaner". that you can find on steam. but the full game is not yet available and I Don't know when it will released in the making of this post. I saw someone play the demo of this game (Jay from the kubz scouts) and I immediately got inspired to write a fanfic with the same theme. I'm currently still writing the first chapter and it has now at least over 1600 words and I have been trying to make the 2 and 3 chapter, even though I’m not even finished with the first one. There is a small problem that I forgot to mention, all of my fanfics are on my phone and my phone decided to die on me. so I lost everything that I have, allllll of it is goneeeeeeeeeeeee and I don’t know if a can remember all of the things that I wrote, to recreate it. So............yeah, that happened.]

Here is the link of the video that I watched and the game:

Video:https://youtu.be/obeqUaozSWg?si=1kvs9fBAlQ38VsD7

Game:https://store.steampowered.com/app/1040200/Crime_Scene_Cleaner/

(Train conductor Au)

The Everlasting train ride(Current name for this fanfic)

Lenore and her friends are stuck on a moving train that has been inhabited by people for centuries. They don't know how long the citizens have been on board this train, but one thing that the close friends do know for certain. Is that they have been occupying this train ever since they were children.

After the strange disappearance of the two Vandernaghts conductors, Lucille and Thaddeus, their two children were now destined to becoming the next train conductors after them. Lenore and her brother Theo are now in charge of the train and the passengers well-being.

The two siblings were investigating their parents weird disappearance to understand, how and why they disappear. The passengers assume that they are death, but Lenore is not convinced. Before their parents disappearance, no one was ever allowed to enter into the front wing of the train, also known as the control room. but now that they were gone, she and her brother are now allowed to venture throughout the area, until their hearts content. No one has ever been on this side of the train beside of their parents, so it is a big mystery of what lays upon those depths. Apparently this is where all of their parents belonging are kept and the belonging of the train conductors before them. This is great start in figuring out anything about their parents and the nature of this train.

With the help of her friends, Lenore starting solve more mystery around the train and discovered the real origin of its creation. she found out many things, one thing that stood out from the rest of course, is the fact that her enter family, has been stuck on this train for centuries.

After finding out the so called truth. she had enough of this place and made the decision to stop at the next train station that appeared. In all of the train history there were no written down instances of the train having new passengers, beside the ones that were already occupying it. But this time it was different, they acquired not one, but five new passengers, that weren't originally from this godforsaken train.

Where do they come from? what is it like outside? Why do they even want to be on-board, this devils train? What made them want to leave there homes, in the first place?

Those were all questions that the passengers and Lenore wanted to know. She didn't have enough time to asked the strangers any questions, they had to make a run for it ...... something went wrong. Now that there are five strangers in the train, can she trust them to not hurt the passengers?

The number one rule placed on the train conductors is that, the safety of the people is their number one priority. But what happens if she doesn’t comply to this rule?

(Your soul will be capt, in dark depths of the abyss, untill the devil's train presist)

or

Lenore and her friends are stuck on a moving train, she meets Annabel lee and her gang, and Theo and Lenore are basically orphans now.

[ like all of the other fanfic, I lost everything about it and I am really pissed. because one of the most important part of the fic, that I wrote is now gone.]

fun fact: when I started writing this fanfic, I wrote the summary, the plot, the things that were going to happen in the story and the 3 chapter (were the most important thing that Lenore is going to find out in the story) on a random Thursday. After I saw a random picture of a broken down train on Pinterest . Not even a week after, I went to my Portuguese school library and found this English book, with almost the exact same plot. It is so random, I never saw that book before in my life and that book was also never touched by anyone. I’m not even mad that I found it, because it gave me some extra ideas for this fic. after reading it, I found out that the only thing that the fanfic and the book have in common is that the main character father figures disappears and that there are trains is both of them.

The book is called: the railway children. ( It is a children's book and it was a great read.)

(pirate/fortune-teller(princesses) fantasy AU

The last gambit (current name of this fanfic)

[ this was my first ever fanfic that I started writing about the nevermore characters. I had already written a part of the first chapter with at least more than 1200 words. and now I don't have it. I don't have the summery, I don't have the chapter and I don't have the important things about the plot. JUST GREAT, JUST MY FUCKING LUCK :( . I remember that I wrote a short kind of poem in the first chapter, that I was really prude off, because I never wrote a poem in my life. And now it is gone forever.

This is what I remember about it, their are some things that are wrong, because I don't clearly remember what I wrote and I absolutely change some things in the end:

“pirates filled with greed, whom travel at sea, passe through the kafra will be on seen.

When you passe through the depths of the sea, You will perceive your pendant of hearts, in part of three.

Persist onward and venture through the lands of dreams, that is engulfed by dreams, Travel until enternity.

Your time can passe forward, my time can be kept, to be enternily yours in the depth of my neck.

My soul will life on, until your favourite word never, will be no more. Until I say there is no more. Until my dear friend says nevermore…..”

The last few paragraph don't make any sense, but anyways.... (This poem is important to the plot, I promise.)

here is a quick summery of the fanfic, that I managed to make with the last bit of my memories, that i have about it:

“She's a well-known pirate, who is known by many and every merchant who travels on the seven seas. in other words, she is a well-known thief who is hated by all."

“A pirate and a thief.” Annabell lee thought to herself well, observing the black haired woman a crossed the street. “What an intriguing combination, indeed.” A little smile appeared on her face, when she realized that the woman that she was a waiting for. for all of those years, was now stedely approaching her. her definition didn’t predict this, but it certainly did predict the presence of a: "pure embodiment of chaos" appearing on her front door step.

The only thing that she has to do now, is to play her cards wright. she didn't expect this to happen, but she is very glad that it did. with the help of this so called pirate, she will be able to get her ticket straight to freedom. (There is nothing straight about this, you know, because she gay..... Let me stop)

or

Lenore is a well known pirate and Annabell lee is a fortune-teller/princesses. Lenore is practically forced by Annabell Lee to help her escape her responsibility.

This fanfic is a fantasy au, so this is going to be all of the character roles in the story:

Morrella is either going to be a mermaid or a fairy in this fic. or maybe i should make her an hybrid, because i can't choose and because I can.

Lenore is going to be a pirate/ lost princesses

Annabell lee is going to be a princesses/ fortune-teller who can see the future.

Prospero and Annabell are going to be stepsiblings, because I said so.

duke is a pirate and wizard ( I don’t know okay, leave me alone)

will is going to be a shape shifter or an genie

Ada is going to be a siren in disguise, who is also a maid.

Pluto is going to be furry, I mean a shape shifting cat.

Eulalie is going to be a witch who owns a orphanage.

Berenice is going to be a vampire who owns her own bar.

Theo is probably going to be dead in this fic.

And last but not least Monty is going to be a asshole to everyone. He is also a thief and a pirate.

Puppet is going to be Annabelle's, teacher who helps her with her ability.

Dolly is practically going to be a nurse ( I don't know what to do with her yet.)

The dean's, Merry and mourn are going to be the antagonist, who likes to play games with Lenore and Annabelle.

[ i will post more of those in the future, but now i have to try to get my shit together and start slaving away and start writing. i am praing to god that the fanfic curse (ao3 curse) doesnt kill me (literally and figuratively. my luck is horoundes and im 70% sure that i am some how related to lenore, in some way or form. also i will use this post as some kind of safe in case something happens, so that i may be able to use it in the future to write my fanfic).]

Future me here. I won't be able to get my digital art and my fanfic from my old phone :(. I hope that I be able to get my phone repair, but knowing my luck it's not going to happen. I got everything placed on my grandmother old phone except my pictures, my fanfic and digital art that I have been making for YEARS and MONTHS.

WHY DOES GOD HATE ME

Also here is a picture of my phone now.

What happened to it?

I threw it at someone's head.

I'm just joking, My dumb ass dropped it on the floor. I tried to get the protection off, but apparently it is glued with the strongest glue in the word. some kind of fucking super glue was used on this shit, because it didn't even want to get off. I tried to get rid off it, but it didn't work and I accidentally hurt my self. basically i cut my self with the glass bits of the protection, so in the end, I gave up. Yes, my finger did bleed, but It was nothing to fatal. My phone is now unresponsive, so I can practically throw it in the trash now.

I have lost all of my picture, more than 300 song that I had download on this phone, digital art and fanfic. atleast I still have my Gmail account, I guess.

I'm not that mad about lossing all of the fanfic, yes I did lose all my progress but I can always make everything again. But my art in the other hand, I'm never going to get it back and now I'm sad.

WHY DOES GOD HATE MEEEEE.

My dumb ass didn't save anything on my cloud or drive, so I lost all of it forever. I hope you guys can learn something from me.

"NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO, ALWAYS SAVE YOUR STUFF ON CLOUD OR DRIVE AND ALWAYS SYNCHRONIZE YOUR STUFF WITH OTHER DEVICES."

PLEASE DON'T BE STUPID LIKE ME.

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 47: February 2017

The crime scene was photographed, the body shipped off to the coroner—not that that was particularly necessary, but procedure was procedure—and Basira wasn’t answering her phone. Which wasn’t relevant to the case, precisely, but it did put Daisy in a shitty-ass mood as she prepared for her least favorite part of this investigation.

She knew who the killer was, of course. Well. Knew was maybe a strong word for it. But the evidence was good. The night cleaner—not the regular woman, who’d been very emphatic about the fact that Mr. Wright said when he hired me, not the Archives, not Artifact Storage, and not his office, that’s for the day crew, but a new girl who’d been covering her shift because of a wedding or something—had noticed the door ajar and a smear in front of it, and had followed the trail to the Archivist’s office, where she’d found the body and raised the alarm. They had evidence that Sims had stayed late after all his assistants had gone home, and most of the staff on the upper floors as well. They had evidence he’d gone up to that Artifact Storage place with an axe and smashed up a valuable…artifact. If he’d surprised an intruder after heading back to the Archives and fought back, he’d have called the police himself rather than just leaving the body behind. He hadn’t come back to work, either, so he was almost certainly on the run. She didn’t have proof yet, but there was no doubt in her mind that Jonathan Sims had murdered…whoever the unlucky bastard was.

Nobody was looking over her shoulder on this one. No supervision, no guidelines, no partner. Basira wasn’t the only one who hadn’t come back to work after the Brodie case. Two officers who’d filled out their first Section Thirty-One forms were still out on medical leave, the mouse who’d been partnered with Altman had followed Basira’s lead and chucked the force over completely, and six more had quit with more…extreme prejudice, not including one officer who’d been collateral damage when his partner had driven their patrol car at top speed into a brick wall. There was a lot of noise being made in Parliament about policing shortages and better mental health care for the officers remaining, but that was all weak nonsense and didn’t do much to address the current issue, which was that the people they were pulling in were soft, weak-willed cowards who couldn’t stomach what had to be done. Sectioned officers were even scarcer than the regular ones and there wasn’t anyone to spare, so Daisy was on her own.

She liked that, actually. Especially because Sims had run. A part of her liked it when they ran. Full operational discretion meant she got to chase them down, ferret them out, and deal with them on her own. Save the Crown the expense of a drawn-out investigation and trial, just handle it all at once.

And she had him dead to rights, or could spin it that she had. It wasn’t just this dead body. Nobody had seen Rose Zampano since Tuesday either, but the CCTV footage for that evening was mysteriously missing, so it wasn’t without the realm of possibility that Sims had killed her to keep her from identifying the corpse or being able to give evidence he’d done it. With not one, but two dead bodies she could pin on him—maybe more if she played her cards right—nobody would think twice if she said he was dangerous and couldn’t be brought in. He was hers.

She just…needed a lead. One little lead, one little hint of where to find him. Fortunately, she was set up for that.

The office wasn’t cleaned up, as Bouchard had pointed out, but Daisy didn’t care. In the first place, all the relevant crime scene work had been done, so they weren’t messing anything up, but in the second place, she’d found it helped sometimes to get people to tell her what she wanted if she made them a little uncomfortable first. Like forcing them to talk to her while sitting in front of a bloodstained desk.

The door opened, and in came the first of the three people she wanted to interview.

She’d told Bouchard she didn’t care who he sent in first, but she had to admit she was pleased he hadn’t sent Blackwood in yet. A few more minutes wouldn’t make much of a difference to him in coming up with a good story, but it would hopefully make him more nervous and likely to blurt out the truth accidentally, especially if she could spin up the other two first, draw out his nerves. Daisy knew how to play on emotions, and while she wasn’t particularly good at the small-talk thing some of her colleagues did to make suspects relax enough to answer questions, that whole we’re all buddies here bullshit, she could intimidate with the best of them. So it filled her with a sense of satisfaction to see the tall woman with the thick black plait draped over one shoulder come into the office and check briefly at the sight of the mess.

“James, right? Sasha James?” Daisy asked. It wasn’t much of a stretch; there was only one woman down here, go fucking figure, so it would have to be her, but it’d be just Daisy’s luck if the Tim stood for Timberly or some other bullshit name like that.

“That’s right.” James came hesitantly forward and took the seat opposite Daisy. She glanced at something on the desk. “Did you bring the tape with you, or is it one of ours?”

“What?” Daisy frowned, then realized James was looking at the tape recorder. “I’m not using that.”

“It’s running.”

Daisy looked fully at the recorder, and sure enough, it had somehow got turned on. “Want me to leave it running, then?”

James licked her lips. “I’d prefer it if you did, actually.”

“Fine.” There wasn’t a recorder at the station anyway and it wasn’t like anyone was going to listen if there was. She could always leave it here after.

“Okay.” James took a deep breath. “Um, statement of Sasha James, interviewed by Detective Tonner—”

“What are you doing?” Daisy interrupted.

James looked, if anything, more uncomfortable. “Making my statement? Isn’t that what you want?”

“I just want an answer to my question.”

“Oh. I—I thought you’d want…more than that.” James fidgeted slightly. “Your partner did last time.”

“Didn’t know who the killer was last time. This time it’s simpler.” Daisy clenched her jaw. “And…and Basira’s not a police officer anymore.”

James looked genuinely surprised. “You know who did it? Then why are you here?”

Christ, this woman could not possibly be that stupid. Daisy narrowed her eyes. “I still have to find him. Hoping one of you lot know where he is. How long have you known Jonathan Sims?”

“Since he joined the Institute,” James said. “About five years now.”

“Any idea where he could be? Friends, family, places he feels safe?”

James’ eyes widened dramatically. It had to be fake. She did, at least, answer the question without prevaricating. “I don’t know. He’s never really talked about his life outside the Institute. Not to me, anyway.”

“If you had to guess?” Daisy prodded.

James shrugged. “He’s originally from Bournemouth, I think. Mentioned something about it in the summing-up of one of our earliest recordings. Maybe he went back there?”

Daisy didn’t think so, but all she said, noncommittally, was, “Maybe.”

James started to stand, then paused. “Is that all?”

“That’s all. Send in the next one.”

James nodded slowly, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. A moment later, it opened again, revealing the man who’d found Gertrude Robinson’s body. If she hadn’t already pegged Sims as the murderer, Daisy would probably have pinned it on him.

“Tim Stoker?” she said, just to confirm.

“Yeah.” Stoker took the seat opposite her and folded his arms over his chest. He looked thoroughly unimpressed.

Daisy gestured at the recorder. “Want me to leave it running?” she asked dryly.

“Up to you.” Stoker didn’t seem particularly concerned.

Daisy snapped the recorder off—she didn’t particularly enjoy being recorded—but before she could even open her mouth, there was a quiet click and she looked over to discover that the tape recorder had turned itself back on.

“Huh.” She narrowed her eyes at Stoker. Had he somehow sleight-of-handed it and turned it back on without her noticing?

Stoker shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Happens a lot around here. Just leave it, I guess.”

“Fine,” Daisy said, suppressing the urge to sigh.

“I guess you want my statement then.”

Jesus, what did these people think she was doing here? Daisy bit back a growl. “I just need anything you know on the possible whereabouts of Jonathan Sims. Anywhere he feels safe, any friends or associates he might turn to?”

“Jon? Feel safe?” Stoker barked out a laugh that didn’t sound particularly amused. “Man’s more paranoid than a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory.”

“Friends or associates, then?”

“Don’t know.”

Daisy was beginning to get frustrated. “You’re sure? Nothing that might help me find him? If you’re hiding something out of some sort of loyalty…”

“Look, I’m not the one he’d talk to, all right?” Stoker gestured vaguely. “We get on all right, but I’m not the one he trusts. We talk about work and that’s about it.”

“What about Rose Zampano?” Daisy shot the question out, hoping Stoker would give her something to go on.

He didn’t so much as blink. “What about her?”

“Have you seen her lately?”

“No. But I don’t come in that door usually.”

Daisy gave Stoker an extremely sharp look. “What door do you usually come in?”

Stoker jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The one that leads directly into the Archives. West side of the building, just off the courtyard there. It only locks from the inside, but Jon’s usually here first and he unlocks it for the rest of us. Saves time, you know?”

“Was it locked when you came in yesterday?”

“No.”

Mentally, Daisy fired off a string of Welsh that would have had her mother washing her mouth out with soap. It had never occurred to her that there was another way in or out of the Archives—Basira always came and went by the front door and she had too. But there was a whole other door leading in, which meant that Gertrude Robinson’s killer could have come in that way. She supposed it meant that whoever had actually killed the old man could have come in that way, too, but she was still bent on it being Sims. At least it would explain how he’d escaped so quickly and cleanly.

She took a deep breath. “All right, you can go.”

Stoker stood. “I’ll send Martin in, then.”

Daisy reckoned she would get the twitchy, jumpy rabbit she had spoken to twice before now, who would come in stammering and making excuses and be really, really easy to push into telling her where Sims was. Instead, Blackwood came into the room with a slow, measured gait and closed the door quietly behind himself, then took a seat and folded his hands in his lap, radiating an aura of patience. His posture was absolutely correct, his face perfectly blank, and he met her eyes steadily and without flinching. It was utterly infuriating, and she wanted to provoke him into an extreme reaction that she could exploit, or hurt him for in a pinch. She could smell his fear, though.

Fear she could work with.

Daisy let her eyes roam over him for a minute, then said abruptly, “I don’t think you killed him.”

Blackwood’s expression never wavered, and his voice was almost eerily calm. “I know you don’t think I killed him.”

“And how do you know that?” Daisy challenged.

“Because if you thought I killed him, you wouldn’t have wasted time coming back to the Institute. You know where I live, you know where to find me outside of work.” Blackwood’s jade-colored eyes glinted slightly in a way Daisy couldn’t quite explain as he regarded her. “And you’ve felt that weird sensation here, too—the sensation of being watched. If you thought I was the killer and you wanted to hunt me down, you’d do it somewhere without witnesses.”

The words, spoken so evenly and without evident fear, infuriated Daisy. It was almost enough to tempt her to look at him as the killer after all, but even knowing about the other door, she probably couldn’t make it stick. He probably had an ironclad alibi. And she didn’t think she could intimidate him into believing she was measuring him out as a suspect, not when he’d so accurately pegged her.

Blackwood was still watching her closely. “So nobody else got hurt, of course.”

“Of course,” Daisy said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She took several deep breaths to stop herself from leaning over the desk and snapping Blackwood’s neck like a twig. “Well then. Since we’re both here…”

“You want my statement.”

“What is it with you people and statements?” Daisy blurted.

Blackwood shrugged. “It’s…kind of what we do here?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not what I do,” Daisy growled. “I’m here to get an answer to my question, and that’s it. Where is Jonathan Sims?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I haven’t seen him since Tuesday.” Blackwood’s voice cracked, ever so slightly.

Daisy seized on that. Blackwood cared about Sims, that was a weakness she could exploit. “You sure? Everyone says you two are close.”

“We are,” Blackwood agreed. “That’s probably why he didn’t tell me where he was going. I know you don’t believe it, but Jon didn’t murder anybody. He wouldn’t. If he’s running, it’s because he’s scared that whoever did kill that…person, whoever he was…is after him, too.”

“And he didn’t come to you,” Daisy said with malice aforethought. “There’s somewhere he thought would be safer.”

Blackwood, damn him, didn’t even flinch. “He wouldn’t have come to me if he thought someone was chasing him, because he wouldn’t have wanted it to come after me. Or Tim, or Sasha. He’s gone somewhere nobody he knows is, somewhere people don’t know him and won’t get hurt because of him. That’s all I can tell you, and it’s just a guess. I don’t know where he is.”

“Sure he didn’t go to someone he knew before?” Daisy prodded. “Someone not involved in all this?”

“I don’t think he has anybody from before the Institute that he’s close enough to go to. His grandmother died five years ago, and she was his only close family.”

Daisy ground her teeth together. “Any other relatives?”

Blackwood thought for a moment, or seemed to anyway, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. You can ask R—” He actually flinched at that, biting his lip, then corrected, “Um, Elias might be able to tell you who his emergency contact is. I-I assume he has one.”

“You’re not helping him by lying for him, you know,” Daisy growled.

“I’m not lying. Believe me. If I knew where he was, I’d tell you, because I know it’ll be worse for him if you have to h—find him. That’s how it works, right?”

Stung, Daisy said in a deathly cold voice, “Let me tell you how this works, Mr. Blackwood. I’ve got two dead bodies, no partner, and a whole lot of operational discretion to make all of this go away. So either you tell me what I want to know, or I pin it on you.”

“Pin it on me, then.” Blackwood’s voice sharpened to a point that actually drove Daisy back for a moment. “Come up with a reason you think it’s me and not Jon. You’ve probably got just as much evidence against me as you do against him, maybe more. Obviously my friends would lie for me, why should you believe them if they give me an alibi? Take that tape out of that recorder and smash it into a million pieces so it’s your word against mine, and I don’t doubt for a minute you won’t bother leaving me alive to give a word against you. You already know I’m a monster. I’m going to end up on the wrong side of your gun at some point, so why not get it over with now? Even if I did know where Jon was, I’d slit my own fucking throat right here rather than tell you. You know that and I know that, and Basira’s not here to make us play nice.”

“Don’t you fucking say her name,” Daisy snarled.

“You’re not the only one relying on someone else to keep you human!”

The words hung between them like a physical force. Blackwood…actually looked shocked that he’d said them. His eyes widened and his mouth snapped shut. He seemed to be physically holding himself back from saying more. Daisy stared back at him, speechless, torn between incandescent rage and wanting to know what the fuck that was supposed to mean. There was, she told herself, only one monster in this room and it wasn’t her. They both sat, tense and silent.

After almost a full thirty seconds, Blackwood seemed to relax. He looked tired and…haunted. Quietly, he said, “It’s not good for any of us, you know. Outsourcing it like that. We both need to learn how to do it on our own terms or it’s never going to stick. And it’s not fair to them.”

“Get. Out.” Daisy wanted to shout the words, but it was all she could do to spit them out.

Blackwood rose without another word and walked out of the office, shutting it slowly and carefully behind him. Daisy remained where she was, seething and…shaken, more than she was willing to admit. What the fuck had just happened?

Before she really had time to gather herself, Bouchard walked in and seated himself opposite her. He looked remarkably composed, despite the eye patch—a red-orange color today, how many of those fucking things did he have?—and regarded her with a faint air of superiority. “I assume you wish to speak with me also.”

What she wished was for a very stiff drink, and for a much more simple and straightforward hunt than this…bullshit, and for Basira to call her back, and for her to never have to ever deal with the Magnus Institute or the Archives staff again, but if wishes were horses she’d still probably be standing outside the fucking glue factory with an empty bridle. She took a deep breath. “Yes. I don’t want a statement. Just the answers to a couple questions.”

“Of course.”

The next twenty minutes unsettled her much more deeply than the conversation with Blackwood had, and resulted in her slamming her way out of the Archivist’s office so fast she didn’t even stop to see if the assistants were still in the Archives. She didn’t even care about the second door Stoker had mentioned, she just needed to go.

That…that fucking asshole. How the hell had he learned all of that? Nobody knew all of that. Not even Basira. She’d never told Basira about…a lot of things, really. Basira didn’t need to know all that. She didn’t need to get involved. She had no idea how many cases Daisy had found a way to get around working with her on to keep her away from all this bullshit. Two real ones was too many. If Basira hadn’t quit when she had, if she’d kept getting into these goddamned cases, she’d have ended up broken, she’d have ended up trapped, she’d have ended up…

She’d have ended up like you, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Blackwood’s said in the back of her mind.

Daisy screamed. She didn’t even care that she was in the middle of a street in Chelsea in broad daylight and there could be any number of people around, she just screamed. Part of her wanted to do exactly what Blackwood had practically dared her to do, turn around and go back in there and grab him and shove her gun down his fucking mouth. She could justify it. It would be easy.

Instead, she threw herself into her car, slammed her foot on the accelerator, and peeled out of London as fast as she could get the old bucket of rust to go. She needed to get away, to think. A few hours or so in the woods, or somewhere like it, would recharge her, give her a chance to get her head on straight, and then…then she would see. Then she could get back to figuring out where Sims was.

Then she could get back on the hunt.

[anx13ty-astr0naut]

Last song: WHAT'S UP - Kumar The Third & Kracken- Knife Party (High recommend watching the music video for WHAT'S UP btw)

Favorite color: Toxic/Neon Green (Ben10 & Danny Phantom had more of an effect on me besides transitioning my gender lol)

Last book: Last fanfic was Scandalosa on A03 (It's Scriddler & a pretty good fic.) Last physical book was probably Devil's Candy Vol. 2 (Manga! :D no spoilers plz I know I've very behind.)

Last movie: I wanna say Hereditary? Pretty good movie, you can tell they really did their research on Paimon for that one which is a nice surprise as you often don't see that alot in movies of that genre or at least I haven't.

Last TV show: I don't watch much TV anymore, but I've been watching alot of Inysm & Mithzan on YouTube alot lately.

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: I LOVE spicy food to a degree that seems to make others uncomfortable lol Next would be Savory & honestly I love to pair the two together. Last is sweet, but that's because I've had sweet sensitivity my whole life, it hurts my teeth & jaw :[

Last thing I searched online: Can't say because its work related, but I will say my last two tumblr searches were both for toxic old man yaoi lol (PeteBilly & Scriddler)

Current obsession: Its a bit of a mixed bag right now??? There's some Xiaolin Showdown, Crime Scene Cleaner, Creature Commandos, Conrad Stevenson's Paranormal P.I., Batman- Just alot of like supernatural, angsty hero type shit.

Tagged or not, join or don't. ♡♡♡

@lonelypotator @tonitheloftwing @wierdlesbian @ohshy

Meant to do this sooner, fuck it, in the mood now

Last song: Dragon ball super: Gogeta vs Broly

Favorite color: I'm gonna say blue or dark green

Last book: Neuromancer by William Gibson

Last movie: I wanna say it was Shawshank Redemption? i think?

Last TV show: Bocchi the Rock

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: I'll say spicy, savory sweet. not that sweet is bad. but it's def coming last in this 3 man race

Last thing I searched online: Neuromancer to make sure i was spelling the book and author's name right

Current obsession: I guess either Bocchi, arknights or monster hunter? idk. those aren't really obsessions. more things i'm into a bit more than others atm.

tagging @livingthedragonlife @angeliccervidae @hextrion @imaheroitsayssoonmybracelet @anx13ty-astr0naut

[saintlyguy]

more house dimitrescu imagines, fresh from the oven with shredded cheese. turn them into fanfics if you want

1. Among Us: Why would a world class detective be invited to Mother Miranda’s New Year’s Spooktacular? Because in her palace, people that stand out are appreciated. After uncovering an imposter among a group of astronauts prior to their mission to Tau Volantis, Mother Miranda just HAD to take a peak inside your head. But not before mingling with her dubbed Four Lords; her adopted children who grew the family fortune while establishing their own names in different industries. You had the pleasure of bumping into the towering and GORGEOUS form of Alcina Dimitrescu, vineyard baroness. After the initial apologies, Lady Dimitrescu insisted you make up for your blunder by accompanying her throughout the evening. HOW COULD YOU SAY NO? She introduced you to Miranda herself, her prominent investors Duke and the Winters, and then her siblings. Her brother Heisenburg got up in her face which made you step in to defend the Lady then tell him off before sending him to the bathroom to wash your drink from his pants. At first you had Alcina’s intrigue, now you have her attention. The Lady opens up more then reveals pictures of her daughters that she keeps in a locket, leading to proud mother gushing. She then urges to hear some of your cases; her favorite being when you caught that eye-gouging serial killer in Kamurocho. You thought you were going to share an intimate moment in the courtyard only to be called to the dining hall by Alcina’s daughter who were all gushing over how their mama still has game. As you sat to eat, you notice the table for House Dimitrescu is missing its matriarch. Before you could ponder where Alcina was, her siblings Donna and Monreu scream “MOTHER HAS BEEN MURDERED!” Your instincts kick in as you implore the two to take you to the body then yelling out to security to lockdown the dining hall. As you rush with them you pass by a panting and disheveled Alcina; your eyes meeting to relay that something has gone wrong. You arrive at the crime scene and find Miranda crushed under a vanity. “That’s… that’s Alcina’s vanity!” yells Donna. Oh shit. Alcina is the prime suspect, but there’s more than meets the eye to this case. You’re gonna have to find out who killed Miranda to save Alcina.

2. Role reversal: You were Alcina’s head servant turned personal assistant turned lover. Or as her daughters playfully dubbed you: Big Momma’s Bottom Bitch. Before becoming Alcina’s equal, you were everything from her personal chef to her cleaner. Then you filled the roles from driver to masseuse. Now you are her first, her last, her everything :) As wholesome as you were with the Lady, you can bet your ass that she loved to be unwholesome with you >:) Days of enjoying each other’s company turned into nights of enjoying each other in ways that makes it hard for Alcina to look her daughters in the eye. Alcina is a very accomodating woman as she is deviously dominant in the bedroom. On some days you’ll switch it up and bring the amazon to her knees while every other day is death by snu snu. On your anniversary you decided to go a bit further will your own dominant side. Alcina is used to you groveling at her feet or demanding her to worship you like a chiuahua. Tonight after a filling meal and some time to unwind in front of the fireplace, you ask your wife to allow you some time to prepare a nice surprise for her in your bedroom. Alcina sends you off with a giggle and happy claps. While your wife bounces in anticipation you set the stage! “Alcina! My love? Come here!” Alcina decides to do that swaying walk you love so you can have your own little show as she makes her entrance. Alcina enters to the lovely surprise of you in a perfectly tailored suit with tucked shirt and a nice leather belt. “WHY AREN’T YOU IN UNIFORM?” Alcina is puzzled as you gesture her to the walk-in closet which contained a… maid outfit!? Alcina knew you wanted to be dominant, but she didn’t realize she was gonna be put through the ringer! She loved it. Your wife… your maid walks in with a feather duster and a maid costume that generously shows off her stockings and skin! You grin then command Alcina: “Come here.”

3. They’re in the goddamn walls: Lucky you gets to spend your summer vacations from classes at the luxurious apartment of your distant relative Aunt Ada at the Arconia in Manhattan. On the days your Aunt was off, she took you all over NYC: to Flushing for hotpot and taiyaki with ice cream, or to Washington Square Park to watch crackheads, or to the corner to shoot dice. Work days when Aunt Ada left you money for whatever food you want were still fun since you had such a big fancy building to explore. You got to know the tenants like the dollmaker Donna, veteran Chris Redfield, and video game reviewer Wesker. Your favorite tenants were the Dimitrescus: single mom CEO Alcina and her three fun loving daughters Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela. Most days you would play with them or just hang out at either of your places. It got to the point where Alcina took you to the side to say “You’re no longer a guest. You’re family.” You just had to hug her which led to one big group hug. Days were spent laughing with the Dimitrescu girls, while nights were spent texting with Daniella. Sure you texted her sisters, but with Daniella you text and talk long into the night. You send each other memes and even greeting with hearts. Everyone on the floor knew you were sweet on each other. It even got to the point where the Dimitrescus and your Aunt would collaborate to get you two alone so that one of you could confess. So far there have been 17 attempts. One evening, Daniella asks that you meet her while her family was out doing errands. You arrive to see she has found a secret entrance in her bedroom that leads behind the walls! You two decide to explore, finding relics of the past and even eavesdropping on your neighbors. This becomes your secret getaway with Daniella; this was special because it belonged to only the two of you. Daniella decided on some nighttime fun and decides to wake you up in the middle of the night. IN YOUR ROOM! Turns out there’s another secret door to the corridor in your room, which means you two can see each other whenever you want! You and Daniella decide to creep around at night to see if you two can catch anyone lacking. You two halt near Jill Valentine’s room because of some laughter. You two peek through vents to see that Jill has company and is getting pretty intimate with a handsome shaggy man. The two of you watch then out of shame pull away only to stare at each other for what seems like eternity. Daniella breaks the silence: “Kiss me. Now.” It’s everything you two could ever want. After yet another eternity you walk her back to her apartment without realising your footsteps alerted Redfield. “They’re in the walls… THEY’RE IN THE GODDAMN WALLS!” You two book it back to her apartment, close the secret enteance, then jump under her covers. You two lay as your breathing returns to normal only to drift off to sleep because of how safe you two make each other feel. The morning after was really awkward since you woke up to find Alcina and Aunt Ada waiting in the doorway while Bela and Cassandra are celebrating.

4. Runaway bride: You love your job as the bartenderista of that one place in Raccoon City where everybody knows your name. Serving up drinks and good food to forlorn students and workers alike kept you on your feet and made everyday interesting. Especially ones where you had to double as bouncer and toss out troublemakers. One of your regulars, Norm swears that your punches are enough to drop a tiger. On a quiet evening, your usual routine of cleaning the tables is interrupted by a bride in a luxurious gown looking like she just ran a marathon. “Hey can I hide here for a bit? I’ll pay you $500000.” What dafuq? Anyone else would have taken the money, but you offered this stranger her own booth and even a meal. “You look like you need to get away from something.” Introducing herself as Bela Dimitrescu, eldest daughter of real estate tycoon Alcina Dimitrecu, the bride settles down and calms down once she tastes your karaage. Through the delightful sounds of eating, Bela tells you that she left her fiance at the alter with nothing but her gown because the marriage is a sham. Then why dafuq did she say yes? Because she was only doing what she thought best for her family, specifically her mother. Bela was to marry the heir to the Umbrella Corporation; their marriage would also merge the company with that of her mother, establishing their position at the top of the financial food chain of Raccoon City. So she put up a facade, pretending to be enamored with her fiance or at least the idea of merging two powerful families. You stand up and declare “Stay as long as you need.” Your apartment is just above the restaurant and you’ve got a spare bedroom. Also you know that Bela certainly needs time to plan how to tell her family that the wedding can not happen. You give Bela a change of clothes then settle in for the night, planning to close shop tomorrow so you both can plan her next move. There’s plenty of banter and jokes until you two hear on the radio that Bela has been declared missing and possibly kidnapped by her mother and the police. You turn on the tv to see a press conference of Bela’s family pleading for her return. Only after the report do you notice Bela was clutching your hand, you being her sole comfort during her darkest hour.

5. Curious Curator: Cassandra Dimitrescu owns a private gallery of treasures and oddities that could put tourist traps suc as the Winchester Mansion and the Mystery Shack out of business. “Come one, come all to Cassandra’s Cache to see fossils of unimaginable creatures and peruse paintings that stimulate parts of your mind that you never knew existed. No tour is complete until a guest fires one of the weapons!” Cassandra’s favorite is her genuine live cannon :) However, it is not the myriad of artifacts and unconventional armory that draws visitors, it is the promise of Cassandra’s personal vault. Cassandra takes a vibe check of every guest, weighing if they are worthy of peeping into her vault and in extension: her soul. Cassandra’s vault has been rumored to be everything from being a library full of texts from lost civilizations to being her personal pirate hoard to being the finest doomsday bunker. Only one person has peeked her interest and has a chance to be the first allowed into her vault: you, the quirky yet sometimes witty handyperson of the neighboring town who always drops by to see if the isolated Cassandra needs anything. Yeah she needs you to breach her vault, hot stuff.

6. Oh my Goddess: Alcina, Goddess of women and wine undertakes the task of rebuilding Greece after a certain demigod kills Zeus then leaves for Midgard. Unlike her predecessors, Alcina shares her power with her children Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela. If she and her daughter were butting heads, then how would the Goddess of Wine grow the vineyards that will feed and quench her newfound home (Mama needs her wine!). Alcina’s daughter rarely fought, often ceased by Big Mama’s tough love, but somehow they always find time to fight about who among the daughters reigned supreme. Alcina reached her limit when a fight caused the Goddess to spill her private reserves into a volcano which resulted in the birth of dragons. “BELA! CASSANDRA! DANIELA! COME HERE! NOW! Mother has a present :)” Confused that they were not going to be sent to do more labors like cleaning out the augean stables again, the sisters decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. “My darlings, my lovelies :) I have a nice golden apple for the best girl!” GASP “But mother… there’s only one.” Alcina gives a smirk >:) “I know, my loves.” The Mother Goddess then throws the apple off Mount Olympus, telling her daughters that the mortal who finds the apple will decide who among them deserves it the most. The girls then scramble to reach the mortal world only to find a misthios with a broken spear and an eagle companion. You have no idea why an Apple of Eden is just lying on the side of the road, but your Creed demands that you ensure it does not fall into the wrong hands. Suddenly three goddesses appear before you, each introducing themselves: “I am Bela! Goddess of Knowledge! That apple belongs to the only woman who will know how to use it properly!” states the blonde. “You will know me as Cassandra! Goddess of Indulgence! That apple is mine!” shrieks the dark haired woman. The redhead jumps forward, “I’m Daniella, I came down to do two things: to eat that apple and eat some ass!”

[virgoiscariot]

think of a (htlia) fanfic youve read that you really love. recently or not. do u have it are u thinking about it? what happens in it

This one. Ough. I’ve read it dozens of times since it came out in 2015. Based off the movie “Thale”. Human/supernatural AU.

Sve and Den are crime scene cleaners sent to clean up after a reclusive scientist dies in his home. They discover that the scientist left much more than old reports and rotted food…..

A DenNor absolute MUST READ, it’s amazing.

[angellvomit]

Aradia Megido

She her

15

Bi

Vietnamese

Mom works as a house cleaner, her sister works at a nightclub (as a bartender)

Lives in an old apartment, is next door neighbors with Dave.

Likes true crime and collects dead things in jars to keep in her room

Keeps crystal jewellry, wiccan.

Watches buzzfeed unsolved

Tavros Nitram

He him

15

Questionjng

Hispanjc

Suffers from social anxiety, due to be being bullied by vriska and terezi

Has prosthetic legs from the knee down (born with it)

Lives on a farm and helps feed animals

Really bad stutter

Arachnophobic

Sollux Captor

He him

16

Straight

White

Eboy chad mix

Hacker wannabe, internally homophobic

Math and computer club, as well as soccer team

Heterochromia

Will cut a bitch

Constantly annoyed

Slight lisp

Karkat Vantas

He him

16

Pan

Trans

Half black half mexican

Hopeless romantic

Insomniac, lives on coffee

Crushes fluxuates between Dave and Terezi

Writes bad fanfiction on wattpad

Swearing is his main personality trait

Struggles with depression

His brother keeps him and their hosue stable, as well as extra money from the Maryams as their dad was deported and killed in a riot

Nepeta Leijon

She her

15

Straight

Trans

1/4 native american 3/4 white

Writes fanfic about her friends on ao3

Anime and computer club

Makes art and posts it on TikTok

Huge crush on Karkat

Covered in cat scratches

Pokemon fan with tavros

Passes sometimes, but she get super insecure about it

Kanaya Maryam

16

She her

Lesbian

Indian

Wants to be a fashion designer

Works at the local lumber yard

Still a die hard twilight fan...

Her sister dyes her hair for her

Keeps a small garden at home

Her mom runs a daycare

Karkats bestfriend, good with relationship advice except for when jts about her own relationships

Terezi Pyrope

She her

15

Biromantic Asexual

Blind

Scene kid in middle school, egirl now

Still keeps her bracelets though

Debate team

Paints alot, and an avid Animal crossing mayor

Has 2 pet lizards

Her mom is a lawyer

Sister works at a skate shop with her boyfriend

Vriska Serket

She her

16

Bi (leaning towards girls)

Local bully

Dyed blonde hair

Dnd god who plays by her own rules

Kanayas ex girlfriend

Minor gambling issue

Sister works at the library

Soccer team, plays right wing

Equius Zahhak

He him

16

Straight

Black

Dad owns a mechanic shop, and he helps and works there too

Anime and robotics club

Kind of homophobic but supports Nep and beats the shit out of her bullies

Crushing heavy in aradia

Goes to gamzees church

Vriska's neighbor

Gamzee Makara

He him

16

Definitelt straight yes sir no gays allowed

Dad is the head priest of the church

Devored christian

Cooking club, helps at Jane's popop's bakery.

"Good friends" with Tavros

Hates vriska with a passion

Circus appreciation

Eridan Ampora

He him

15

Trans

Bi

Swimming team

Works with Kanayas sister, Porrim

Dad works under Feferi's mom

Best friends with Fef and hopelessly in love with her

Calls sollux a simp

Dyes his own hair

Never wears tshirts

Kind of a narcisist

Feferi Peixes

She her

15

Bi curious

Mom is mayor

Decently rich

Swimming team captain

Also on cheer squad

Works at the vet, takes in all kinds of stray animals

Kind of selfish

Crushing on sollux despite him breaking her heart over and over

[azuresquirrel]

Snow day Flash marathon continues!

Episode Four - WHAT IS THIS, A CROSSOVER EPISODE? Unfortunately, Yes.

“TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD I’M AN ORDINARY SCHOOLGIRL FORENSIC SCIENTIST BUT SECRETLY I’M SAILOR MOON I USE MY SPEED TO FIGHT CRIME AND FIND OTHERS LIKE ME.”

Also DEAD MOM.

Ah and here’s the “last time on The Flash” that’s actually “last time on Green Arrow.” Oh, it’s real cute that you think people would not only watch but also remember Green Arrow.

Pfffffft Barry’s like BEFORE I WAS HIT BY LIGHTNING I WAS A LONELY NERD BUT A NEAR-DEATH AND COMA GAVE ME FRIENDS!!!!!! Oh my god, he IS an anime character.

And Barry is fucking playing ping pong with Cisco and like this is literally my own fanfic. Also at the same time he’s playing Operation with Caitlin and chess (THE INTERNATIONAL SYMBOLIC GAME OF GAYNESS) with Harrison because HE FAST. And of course Barry says it’s for fun when Caitlin (who is COLD LIKE SNOW and DEAD FIANCE) asks why they’re doing this. Harrison of course says it’s also an experiment to see how much Barry’s powers can do. So that means as per usual, Harrison totally has a boner right now.

Cisco did not contribute any lines because HE’S PLAYING PING PONG WITH BARRY he probably had this fantasy like at least five times before this.

Cut from happy fun fanfic time to motorcycles going after an armored car for whatever Badguy of the Week nonsense is about to happen. To the surprise of no one, the armored car is broken into.

“Checkmate. Guess you still have a few things left to learn, Mr. Allen.” Yeah, Harrison just came.

Also we can now add BAD AT OPERATION to Caitlin’s non-dead-fiance characteristics.

Barry GOTTA GO FASTs it to the robbery and the robbers get away while Barry gets the injured drivers to the hospital because Barry is a good egg.

Apparently this was an attempted DIAMOND HEIST which Barry still shows up late to the investigation despite being the fastest man alive because ANIME PROTAGONIST. Captain Poor Man’s Santino Fontana continues to be deeply unimpressed with Barry.

Joe calling Barry out for referring himself in the third person – GOOD.

Iris is officially starting her LOIS LANE BLOG reporting/stanning The Red Streak (because he’s not actually The Flash yet though this seems to be the episode that Barry makes that stick).

And this person in Barry’s lab is Felicity Smoke. So Green Arrow woman. Hooray. I care so much.

The Badguys of the Week think they were attacked by a drone – TOPICAL! And the Badguy of the Week’s superpower seems to be MATH. EXCITEMENT.

BARRY’S SHOES CATCH ON FIRE SOMETIMES.

Oh great is this whole episode going to be Green Arrow Woman watching Barry do shit while also wanting Barry’s D? SNORE.

And they show up to STAR labs and Cisco immediately says “RUDE” I love him.

And now Cisco is geeking out over “the Arrow” while chomping on twizzlers, MORE CISCO ALWAYS.

Harrison comes in to be AMAZINGLY CREEPY by having stalked Felicity’s entire life because “keeping an eye out for promising talent in scientific fields” is how he kidnapped Cisco and Cailtin and IS A HUGE CREEP. (seriously do Cisco and Cailtin have lives outside the lab?)

“Everything we do here in STAR labs is to protect Barry Allen” HE SAID LIKE A CREEP AND A LIAR.

Oh great another scene with White Bread because I’ve already had SO MUCH to say about this episode. The point of this scene is that White Bread is a dumbass and continues to be a dumbass. (okay I did laugh quite a bit at the radio gag)

Iris is SUPER EXCITED FOR TRIVIA NIGHT I love her and also I CAN DATE YOU, IRIS. And Barry DO NOT knock $75 worth of cappuccinos, that is better than literally any other trivia night prize I have personally witnessed.

Oh god, this whole Green Arrow woman subplot is “OMG ARE YOU DAAAATING” be still my fucking beating heart.

I am officially more invested in the outcome of this trivia night than I am in 1. Green Arrow woman and 2. Whatever the fuck the Badguy of the week is doing. Also this trivia night has a VERY high budget.

BARRY IS EXTREMELY PROUD OF “E=MCHAMMER.”

Green Arrow woman shows up in a “DO ME NOW” dress. Sigh.

And Harrison just ~totally only now~ discovers that the weapon that Badguy of the Week now has is missing.

DON’T YELL AT CISCO!!!!! HOW DARE YOU!!!!!!

NO!!!! MY SON!!!!!!!!

Apparently Cisco made this weapon (which makes Harrison MAD AND ANGRY because he “doesn’t like weapons” YEAH SURE MR. STABBY MCSTAB) and HE LOOKS LIKE A KICKED PUPPY. I’M NOT HAPPY.

I would much rather talk about the team named PRIDE AND PADAWANS and dresses accordingly.

Oh yeah that Badguy of the Week took the diamond or whatever and we now learn that Cisco made an Elsa Gun.

(GET IT??? TO *SLOW* BARRY DOWN??? GET IT????)

I’ll give them this – the special effects look pretty decent.

And Barry ends up not quite fast enough to save this one guy that gets frozen-shot. Awwww noooo, now Barry will be a sad kitten.

BARRY FINDS OUT THAT CISCO MADE THE GUN AND IS VERY MUCH A SAD KITTEN.

CISCO MADE THE GUN TO THEORETICALLY STOP BARRY IF HE TURNED OUT TO BE AN ASSHOLE. HO SHIT, ACTUAL DRAMA IS HAPPENING NOW!

BARRY THOUGHT THEY WERE FRIENDS! IF BARRY HAD KNOWN ABOUT THE GUN HE COULD’VE SAVED THAT DUDE! CISCO NOW HAS THIS MAN’S BLOOD ON HIS HANDS!

HI EVERYONE IS NOW A SAD KITTEN.

Summary of shit I don’t care about  - Papa Joe and Iris have dad talk about dating his partner –more boring Badguy of the Week stuff

Barry is now trying to GO FASTER because EMO and extends his YOU DON’T TRUST ME to Green Arrow woman who is here to give him a pep talk about how getting a team together is rough at first and BEING A SUPERHERO IS LONELY SO DON’T MAKE YOURSELF LONELIER ALSO MY VAGINA IS RIGHT HERE

Oh I guess Captain Cold didn’t take the diamond before which just goes to show how much I’ve been paying attention to this plot.

“I DON’T FEEL LIKE TALKING RIGHT NOW” Emo Barry says as he turns off his headset. Oh my god Barry, just listen to some Linkin Park and get over yourself before going after the guy with the bad gun that can hurt you.

We do however get a pretty great scene of Barry saving an entire train worth of people before said train crashes.

OH NOW. THE BADGUY CAUGHT BARRY. I WONDER IF TEAM SCIENCE WILL COME AND SAVE HIM???

Cisco holding a fuckass big gun = GOOD!!!

Cisco threatening to maybe kill a guy = I’M SO PROUD OF YOU, SON!!!! Clearly I’m a great mom.

“This is actually the STAR labs vacuum cleaner with a lot of LEDs.” I LOVE HIM!!!!!!

And Badguy gets away with the gun but THE TEAMS TRUSTS AGAIN! HOORAY!

And Green Arrow Woman goes back to her crappy show.

DON’T TOUCH MY SON, HARRISON!!!! YOU’RE ON REAL THIN ICE!!!!!!

(Harrison being creepy towards Barry = that’s our Harrison! Harrison being creepy towards Cisco = DON’T)

And Iris says “no more secrets” to her father which her father WILL NOT HONOR because of Barry’s superpowers and HEY I’M NOT THRILLED ABOUT THIS CONTINUALLY.

Ugh, Barry comes to visit Green Arrow woman on the train because I guess this still isn’t over. She makes the AMAZING DEDUCTION that Barry is in love with Iris, truly the Sherlock of our age.

THEN THEY KISS FOR PRETTY MUCH NO REASON. GOD.

And I thought we’d get our weekly Crazy Ex Boyfriend check in but WE DON’T EVEN GET THAT, instead we got this boring-ass Badguy of the Week recruiting a clear future Badguy of the Week. NO. I LIKE CREEPY HARRISON WHEN HE’S BEING FUN CREEPY NOT CREEPY TO CISCO CREEPY.

What a weird fucking episode. The entire part that was about the gun that Cisco made was the best part of the show so far but it was sandwiched in the worst/most boring episode of the show so far with a Badguy of the Week who DIDN’T EVEN HAVE ANY SUPERPOWERS and a crossover with a crappy show. God.

There’s a reason we left crossover episodes behind in the 90s, folks.

[perry-the-platypus-f1cs]

Blood for the price of money PT2

Chapter 2: A job is a job.

Summary:

Kovalsky does his job nothing can go wrong right? right?

CONTENT WARNING: contains graphic descriptions of violence and gore if you are sensitive to theas etops DO NOT PROCEED

Kovalsky will never get used to the smell of blood; the look and textures of the mutilated corpse he cleans on the daily, he got used to very, very quickly, but the smell always made him shudder and gag. The metallic, almost sour smell of decaying bodies and their fluids makes him scrunch his nose and recoil at the thought of them.

If he could do his job without the repulsive, stomach-emptying smell of dead bodies, he would have begun this unethical job years ago.

He had parked the car around the back of the safehouse to avoid suspicion, especially from the surrounding houses. Kavolsky has had way too many close calls with nosy neighbours to not take any precautions. People should really mind their own fucking business sometimes.

He exited the hidden car, slamming the door as quietly as he could. The fresh, sleek car was a stark difference to his old, rickety Toyota Chevy, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. He bought that car years ago, and it's well and truly paid itself off a long time ago, so he can't really complain, now can he?

He walks briskly towards the front door, his hand reaching into his jacket pocket, grabbing the now crinkled piece of paper the Valeria-Possibly El Sin Nombre gave him. He fished it out of his pocket, smoothing out the crumpled paper and squinting in the dim light, rereading the numbers from before.

Code: 775396

Kavolsky looks at the paper, then at the door keypad; raising a finger, he presses in the written code, and a light clicking noise can be heard from the door. He grabs the silver handle and swings the door open. The smell of the carnage wafts through the door, making Kovalsky recoil slightly from the strong odour, but he knows that he has a job to do, and he’s going to get paid today.

And so he returned to his hidden vehicle, grabbing the duffle bag of supplies from the backseat and re-entering the house, this time closing the door behind him and locking it. He didn't want any unwanted visitors, now did he?

The metallic smell of blood was thick, and he had yet to see the massacre that had taken place in this unsuspecting house on the corner of town. He adorned his plastic scrubs, securing them around his torso and legs before picking up an additional one to wrap around his shoes. He had learnt far too many times that it is not easy to scrub bloodstains from a crime scene when your shoes are dragging all the blood around.

His latex gloves snapped onto his wrists, the final piece of his safety gear puzzle; now it was time to move forward to the real problem. The mess.

Kovalsky picks up the duffle bag and walks down the hallway; he's looking at every crevasse for anything that might be out of place or could possibly be used to piece together the crime that took place here.

He found nothing, and so he continued scouting out the layout of the house and dreading the mess that he would find. If the smell of blood and decay was that strong that I reached the door, how many bodies could there be? The most Kovalsky has had to deal with was eleven, but he has to keep his head in the game for now; he can reflect later; right now he has to clean.

As Kovalsky mapped out the twisting hallway of the house, he saw his first sign: paintings were tilted unnaturally, and some were even discarded on the floor. Looking down, Kovalsky noticed muddy footprints drying on the wooden floor. The footprints led to a room as if someone had been chased through this hallway. It was a possible theory; Kovalsky had seen the effects of panic, and this was no different.

He followed the muddy footprints past 3 sets of doors. He opened each one, showing two clean bedrooms and one bathroom, but as he returned to following the muddy footprints, he found it.

The first sight of blood in the entire home. A splatter dripping down the wall and a smudge across the floor: 'Someone had been shot then crawled or was dragged away. Kovalsky realises it wasn't anything too shocking; he had cleaned up the remains of someone who got caught in a campfire explosion. For god's sake, this was nothing.

That still didn't explain the large stench of blood. Kovalsky knew that it couldn’t just come from one body, and so he stepped into the room, following the now dried red smudge into the dining and living room.

It was really ironic, the living room.

Bodies were splayed around the room, their bodies twisted like puppets with their strings cut, heads rolling to the side, chunks of flesh blown from their source, caking on the furniture and artwork, organs draped outward from the bodies, bullets surrounded the bodies like sprinkles on a cupcake; they were everywhere.

“Time to get to work, I guess.” Kovalsky huffs to himself, adjusting his gloves before walking over to a less-bloody area and opening up his duffle bag, dumping its contents out of the bag.

A bucket, several cleaning detergents, and sponges, mops, and other cleaning elements now littered the mostly clean floor as Kovalsky walked towards the kitchen with a bucket in hand as well as a mop and the washing detergents securely piled and held in his other hand.

He moves efficiently, avoiding the blood puddled on the floor as he makes his way to the kitchen sink, twisting the tap and filling the bucket with water and adding the cleaning detergents to the soapy mix before placing the bucket on the ground and leaning the mop against the kitchen island. “Bodies first, then blood.” He nods, picking up the black rubbish bags from where he placed them on the counter before airing them out, the opening gaping wide.

Kovalsky signs, this was the more difficult part of the job: getting the bodies in the bags and then getting rid of them was another thing entirely than cleaning out a few bloodstains and rearranging some furniture.

He approaches the first body he sees, avoiding stepping in the pool of blood that has dropped from the victim's head. The gaping gunshot wound stared back at Kovalsky as he slipped the bag over the other man's feet and up around his waist before pulling the bag up in one swift motion; the body slipped into the bag without resistance, its limbs bending together to fit into the bag. Kovalsky ties the top of the bag skilfully; quickly, he then lugs the bag away, swinging it over his shoulder and dumping it in the clean kitchen.

Again and again this process repeated until no bodies could be found in the house, only blood and the destroyed furniture. Kovalsky dips the tip of the mop in the soapy water the bucket contained; slapping the mop down on the ground, he began swishing it side to side, smearing the blood across the wooden floors, making the once white and green mop-sponge a shade of pink as he continued his work.

Minutes passed like fleeting seconds as Kovalsky cleaned. At one point he put on some music to distract his racing mind as he continued his work. Time continued to pass until the smell and sight of blood were no more. Until the last piece of furniture was put back in its rightful place, until the last piece of broken glass was thrown in the bin.

But what had drawn Kovalsky's attention whilst he was cleaning was the difference in the bodies; out of the seven bodies he had found, all were wearing bulletproof vests—at least that's what Kovalsky thinks they were wearing.

Four of them had an embroidered patch that he had seen on the mansion's front guard's shoulders, which led him to think that they were cartel members, which makes sense, but the other three had different patches on their shoulders. It was Spanish, and Kovalsky's 7th-grade Spanish wasn't going to cut it.

But he assumed it had to be some type of law enforcement; that’s what made the most sense, right? The cartel is in conflict with some kind of law enforcement, and now he's here to clean up the mess so they don’t piece it together that the cartel attacked and that three of their members are dead.

Well, whatever happened here is now no longer any of his business; he had carried out what he’s been paid to do, and now the best part of the job is he gets to leave.

Kovalsku had collected all of his supplies as he was cleaning; now all he has left is the bucket and mop. He had placed the bodies in the trunk of the car. All he needed to do now was to find a place to dump them, which shouldn’t be too hard…hopefully. Kovalsky made his way towards the exit of the safehouse, admiring his work as he went. It always felt satisfying having a job well done, no matter how gruesome or hideous the job may be.

Kovalsky’s hand wrapped around the cold brass metal of the door handle before he twisted it, and he stopped for a moment; something felt…wrong. Deep in his gut he felt an unsettling feeling creep forward. He turned his head, eyes darting around the hallway, eyes flicking outside the frosted windows next to the door before peeking through the peephole and seeing—

Nothing.

There was nothing amiss. The pebbles looked the same, the driveway looked the same, and the potted plants and garden looked the same. It was all the same “damn paranoia.” He hisses, opening the door and stepping through the threshold.

He watches as the butt of a gun is launched towards his face, connecting with his temple; red-hot pain sings through his head, his ears ringing as he feels his body fall to the ground, the world darkening around him.

“Fucking hell. Who’s this bloke?” 

Notes:

And there's chapter 2! Hope you all enjoy this chapter please tell me what you think in the comments!

[writingwhimseys]

Green Velvet (a Miraculous fanfic) - Chapter 3/?

Read it here: FanFiction.Net | AO3

Summary: Investigator Dupain-Cheng (dubbed Ladybug by the public) is used to strange cases coming her way and her latest one is no different, involving murder, intrigue, and an actor with peridot eyes that she can't seem to shake. Then, the case grows and things get personal. Rated T, Adrienette/LadyNoir, slow burn, film noir 1950's AU, ongoing.

Length of Chapters (avg): Medium

Rating: T/PG-13

Status: Ongoing

——————————

Marinette returns to her office after meeting with Alya, feeling more confident than before. Alya is like that- she leaves you feeling ready to take on the world or the complete opposite (though the latter is usually the case with the frauds she exposes). Yes, the potential involvement of this Hawkmoth guy does scratch at the back of Marinette's consciousness, but, for the moment, she's more focused on figuring out what leads to look into next than worrying.

Glancing to her case board, Marinette decides to return to the scene of the crime- the theater. Donning her coat, she heads downtown and finds herself at the theater at the peak of the evening ticket rush, the box office lineup trailing down the sidewalk. When she speaks to the doorman, he retreats inside without another word and promptly returns with the pale-faced employee who had asked her to the theater on the morning of the murder discovery. Almost more nervous than before, the employee leads her into the lobby, the crowd parting to let them through.

"I'd like to look around a bit more, if that’s alright." Marinette asks, once pleasantries have been exchanged. The employee- the assistant theater manager, in fact, according to his badge- nods feverishly.

"Of course, of course. The manager said you could have your run of the place, if you came back. Um, but- uh..." He says, faltering. "Our show starts in 45 minutes, so, uh, if you could be careful while doing your work- we don't want the staff or actors to get wind of any investigation details. If word spreads, it wouldn't be good for publicity. Theater folk aren't much for being, uh...discreet with things." He finishes sheepishly. Marinette smiles thinly.

“Being careful is part of my job.” She says reassurigly. The assistant manager glances at Marinette’s distinctive trenchcoat and, looking as if he is going to speak, changes his mind and simply nods at her. With a final smile, Marinette turns away and makes her way through the lobby to the doors leading backstage.

Behind the deep red stage curtains, the air buzzes with activity and people flit up and down the stage impatiently. Not wanting to disturb the actors as they prepare for showtime, Marinette follows the back wall through the off-stage area, taking note of what she passes. The ropes for the backdrops and racks of supplies for prop and set repair line the side of the wall by stage right. Down a far corridor and around the corner, Marinette finds the dressing rooms. She strolls past their worn wood doors, pausing in front of the last one- Catherine Gregory’s old room. When Gregory's face, cold with death and yet glamourous, flashes through Marinette’s mind, she turns away. Before she can take a step forward, however, a voice pipes up behind her.

"Investigator Dupain-Cheng?" The voice asks quizzically. Marinette looks around and sees Adrien Vermonte standing a few feet away. He is dressed in costume- a dark brocaded suit with a high collar- and looks as though he paused on his way somewhere, the door beside Gregory's swung open. Marinette remembers the actor's interview- he said his room was right beside Cathy's. Marinette frowns at the situation. How unusually unlucky. Then she remembers that she's with a potential source of information and trades her frown for a neutral expression.

"Mr. Vermonte." Marinette says politely. Adrien smiles, relaxing against the door frame.

"Its just Adrien." He says, curiousity gleaming in his eyes. "How is the investigation going?" Marinette feels the urge to give him a witty remark- he's just asking for it- but she knows better.

"As well as a murder investigation can go." She replies with a straight face, settling for something in the middle. Adrien looks intrigued.

"Find out anything interesting?" He asks. Marinette cocks an eyebrow.

“I can't share the details of the investigation.” She says. Adrien’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Nothing at all?” He asks, his tone slightly questioning. Marinette shakes her head.

“No.” She replies. After a moment, Adrien sighs and shrugs.

“Fair enough.” He says pleasantly, waiting a beat before speaking again. “Are you looking for more clues?”

“I'm afraid I can't share that with you, either.” Marinette says solemnly. Adrien doesn’t appear to be phased by this, as he crosses his arms and watches her.

“The back door was broken over the last couple days. Someone discovered it yesterday. Could've been the killer.” Adrien says nonchalauntly. He motions to a door down the corridor, shrouded in shadows. “They haven’t fixed it yet.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Marinette replies. For all she knows, it could be a fake lead- people who point out clues are either very enthusastic or trying to hide something, and Marinette doesn’t know which category Adrien falls into. She should still check it out nonetheless. Adrien smiles again.

“No problem.” He says, before motioning down the corridor. “I’m due on-stage anytime now, so I’d better go. My offer still stands if you need an ear on the inside.” He adds, his green eyes lingering before he turns and walks down the hallway. Marinette frowns again but says nothing as Adrian turns the corner and disappears. Silently, she turns away and continues her search.

The rest of the dressing room corridor is spotless; nothing appears to be out of place or unusual. However, when Marinette reaches the back door that Adrian had mentioned, it is immediately obvious that someone had indeed forced it. The lock panel has been bent back uniformly and beyond repair, a feat not easily accomplished and clearly done by someone who knew what they were doing. Alya’s words of caution ring again in the back of Marinette’s mind, but Marinette lets them float away. She has a job to do.

The rest of the search is fruitless; Marinette finishes checking the area backstage but finds nothing that seems suspicious. The one interesting thing she does discover is the actor sign-in sheet pasted on the wall by the entrance. The whole cast on the list signed in and out at regular times on the night before the murder with the exception of Gregory and one actress, whose sign-out time was an hour later than everyone else. Noting the name of the actress, Marinette heads back to the main lobby. Re-entering the main foyer of the theater as the show is about to begin, she hunts down the assistant manager, who looks no more composed than before.

“Was the back door broken into recently?” Marinette asks him. The man goes pale.

“Yes, yes, we, uh- reported it to the police. We don’t know when it happened exactly, but it wasn't broken before the murder happened." He stammers out.

"Nothing was reported stolen?" Marinette asks. The assistant manager shakes his head vigorously.

"Any other strange discoveries around here?" Marinette continues. The assistant manager ponders the question for a moment before shaking his head again. Though Marinette has no other questions planned, an image of the sign-out sheet suddenly pops into her head.

"One last question; do you keep a visitor log for people entering the theater or delivering things backstage?" She asks offhandely. At this, the assistant manager leads her to the box office and hands her a clipboard with a log clipped to it. As Marinette scans the list, she doesn't see much of note at first- it's mostly postal deliverymen and cleaners on the log, and no one signed in at unusual times or times close to the murder. Then, Marinette spots it- one sign-out from the night before the murder listed as “Agreste costume delivery”. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Marinette can’t place it.

“Do you know who this delivery was for?” Marinette asks the assistant manager, pointing to the sign-out on the log. The assistant manager gulps.

“Agreste Fashions sometimes makes costumes- or, ah, made costumes for Ms. Gregory. She was the only actor who ordered costumes specially for her.” As the man says this, Marinette knows she’s found a solid lead.

Thanking the assistant manager and leaving the theater, Marinette mulls over what she now theater was broken into by a professional and may or may not be related to the murder. Nothing was reported stolen or discovered amiss, which points to the break-in being indeed related to the murder. Not only this, but it seems likely that Gregory did have a visitor the night before her death. There's still other leads to check out- the one actress who clocked out late, for example- which leaves a lot of options as to who could have murdered the starlet. As Marinette walks down the sidewalk, she hums with satisfaction. Her intuition tells her she's on the right track.

Something is still missing, however. While the leads as to the murderer and such are numerous, the motivation isn't. Nothing Marinette has discovered has given her any indication as to why someone would want Gregory dead. Those who immediately jumped out at the start have alibis and no one else seems to have had a good enough reason for murder. Marinette ponders over this as she unlocks her car and gets in. There must be more to this case than meets the eye, and it worries her that she doesn't know what it could be. With this on her mind, she starts the car and drives off.

[mini-moonlovers]

Scarlet Heart Ryeo Fanfic: I Dream in Grapefruit - Part Two

Part One

Here’s the second half of my SoSoo Grapefruit dream romance. Hope you like it. there’s a high chance that mistakes made their way into the story please be gentle with me <3

For a couple weeks, So couldn’t decide what he wanted to do. Baek Ah’s words echoed in his head. Find her. Find her. Find her! But how was he supposed to find her? He went back and forth between outlining ways that he could find her to just throwing things at the wall in frustration at a nearly impossible task. When he wasn’t working, he kept finding himself wandering the market stalls, hoping he would run into her. The ahjumma at the grapefruit stand was already annoyed with him. The moment he was within earshot, she would yell “She hasn’t been here!” and he would promptly walk away. He had tried asking other vendors, but they only stared blankly at his vague descriptions. When he was at work, his growing habit of throwing things made it clear he was to be avoided at all costs. Well, they always avoided him, but usually it was by giving him a wide berth in the hallway or not making eye contact. After about a week, anywhere he decided to be was devoid of any human life.

Today, only his secretary, Chae Ryung, was in the office and she was keeping her head low to not provoke his attention. So hated the silence in the office. It was not golden. The mindless chatter in the office had helped to ease the chatter in his head. Now that it was quiet, he couldn’t help but think about the grapefruit girl and if, maybe, he should hire a PI. He leaned back in his chair, letting his head and eyes rest. He could hear Chae Ryung talking right outside his office. It sounded like she was on the phone. He didn’t mean to listen in, but the walls were thin and her voice carried.  

“… really on edge lately. Normally he’s okay to deal with, but this week he’s been so scary. He threw a stapler at the wall yesterday…. Well, yea, he picked it up like two seconds later and apologized…. Okay, yes I’m overreacting, but at least I don’t blow up at random strangers because of grapefruit…. “ So sat up. It couldn’t be. “So what if he touched them? Everyone touches the fruit, that’s why you wash them when you get home.” He slowly crept closer to the door, placing his ear in the middle, not even caring that he was full on eavesdropping at this moment. “You never told me, though, was he cute? … Of course it’s important … Uh huh, yea, sounds like just your type… Really? My boss also has a scar on — “

So’s hand slipped on the door handle, causing the door to swing open and him to crash into the floor. Chae Ryung looked stricken at the sight, her eyes wide and mouth slightly frowning. “Uh,” she said into the phone, “I’ll call you back.”

So rubbed the carpet. “You know, um, we should, uh, get some people in here to clean these carpets. Yep, they are very dirty.” He rose from the floor, brushing away invisible dirt from his clothes. “So, was that phone call important?”

She hesitated. “No, I was just talking to my friend. Nothing important, just catching up.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s great. Always nice to talk to friends. Known her long?” The question felt thick on his tongue. He never asked about personal stuff.

Chae Ryung squirmed in her chair, her eyes fixed on some spot on the wall behind So. “Um, yea. We’re childhood friends.”

“Right. Yea, I’m going to go back into my office. You, uh, call those cleaners and, uh, you can leave for the day.” So bolted back into his office and shut the door behind him before she could respond. He leaned against the door and ran his hand through his hair. He felt… flooded. Was he nervous? Elated? Stunned? His heart was bursting. He scrambled for his phone, calling the only person he knew that could help him.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Pick up already. Four rings. “Hyung! What’s up?”

“I think I may have found her.”

An iced coffee stood untouched with drops of perspiration forming and holding onto the thick plastic before giving up. The napkin swallowed them one by one. So lounged in a chair next to the coffee, his feet rested on another, his hands laid on his chest, and his hair carefully swooped over his eyes to block out the sun. To passersby, he looked serene, asleep even. Another man came up behind the resting figure. He circled him once and examined him with this chin in his hand, like a detective trying to understand his crime scene. Baek Ah’s focus on So was lost momentarily as he noticed the abandoned coffee. He gleefully took a long sip before kicking the chair his friend’s feet rested upon. The resting figure jolted forward from the surprise attack.

“What the—“ So exclaimed. He scowled when his eyes spotted his laughing friend. “Is that my coffee?”

“Yes, it is. I saved it from neglect and am now giving it the love and care it deserves.” Baek Ah stared directly in his eyes, the straw between his teeth, like he was issuing a challenge to fight for the coffee’s honor.

So chuckled. “I don’t care about the coffee. You can have it. But what did you find out?”

Baek Ah’s cousin, Won, was dating Chae Ryung, which is how she ended up being his secretary in the first place. He begged Baek Ah to ask for any and all details concerning Chae Ryung’s childhood friend. “Well,” said Baek Ah, “he didn’t know much” So hung his head in dismay. “Ah ah ah, my dear friend, before you get all pouty, he did, however, provide me with a photo.” So’s head shot up. Baek Ah taunted a photo in front of his face. He waved it back and forth in front of him. So’s eyes darting back and forth, his hand mid-air ready to snatch the photo. He looked like a cat being teased by it’s owner. Baek Ah laid the photo face down and pushed it towards him, but didn’t relinquish it just yet. “Hyung, even if it is the girl, what are you going to do? There’s not much you could do without looking like a stalker.”

So gazed at the photo. He had no idea what he was going to do.  He could flip over that picture and find that he was completely wrong. For all he knew, many people got yelled at over grapefruit. But Chae Ryung had briefly mentioned a scar before he had interrupted her. He could also flip over that picture and see her face smiling back at him. Would that be enough? Just to know she exists outside of his mind? No, it’s wouldn’t be enough. He needed to know her name. To have a conversation with her. Maybe have a cup of coffee with her. Just something to help get her out of his head, like listening to a song that’s been stuck in your head all day. His fingers grazed the edges of the photo. “I need to know.”

Baek Ah sat back, an invitation for So to do as he pleased. He grasped a corner of the photo between his finger and thumb. It’s now or never, he thought. He took in a deep breath, ready to flip the photo over and get it over with, but the introduction of a familiar scent halted his movements. He took in another deep breath, this time focusing on the smell, and he was sure it was the same, something sweet and woodsy with a hint of rose. He stood quickly, his chair falling over behind him and the photo forgotten. He spun around, chasing the scent until his eyes caught up with his nose. It was the long hair that drew his attention. The way it cascaded down her back, slightly swaying with the breeze. With baited breath, he waited for the figure to turn. He was not disappointed as she stopped in front of a store and her profile came into view. The wide eyes, the perfectly straight nose, the strawberry lips. He could feel his heart beat becoming erratic. It’s you.  

“Hyung? What’s wrong?” Baek Ah rose, looking in the direction of So’s frozen figure. So’s line of sight led him to a flower shop sitting a couple shops down from the cafe. A girl stood in front peering at the potted flowers for sale. She bent over them slightly with eyes closed, taking in their fragrance. “Do you know her?”

Baek Ah’s question awakened So and, without a word, he took one step towards the flower shop. And then two. And three. And before he knew it, he was an arm’s length away from her. She didn’t notice him approaching, all her focus was on the plants before her. He took a moment to steel himself, to calm his restless mind, but she walked into the shop. He chuckled, but it came out strained and shaky. He rubbed his face in frustration. What am I doing? What is wrong with me? he thought. He tried to even his breathing before entering the store. When he did, So felt an immediate calmness flood over him, the greenery of the shop giving him a peace of mind he hadn’t felt in weeks. An employee tending to flower arrangements greeted him with a smile and slight bowing of the head. He bowed slightly in return and began to take in the details of the shop. As tall as he was, it was hard to see above the towering plants. While he knew she was in here, the place seemed to be empty. He treaded carefully through the shop and let his fingers run over the many plants, some soft and some spiny and some waxy. We’re here for you. Best of luck, they seemed to say to him. Then, from between the flora, a voice both melodic and hushed, bloomed around him, like a flower blossoming in the spring.

“… just a tiny little thing now but once you get a nice home and some fertilizer you’ll grow to be as big and strong as this guy over here. And, you are really just a tall one, almost as tall as me. Though, I’ll tell you a secret, I’m actually short by many’s standards.” She was bent slightly, her hands tucked neatly between her, examining the plant. It looked as though she was having a staring contest. So couldn’t help his own smile from blooming in her presence. “Hmm,” she said, “I think you might be too big for my small apartment. I do wish I could take you with me. I’ll come visit you, though, make sure you don’t get lone—“ She abruptly stopped, becoming aware of his presence.

She straightened up and examined So. His smile faltered. “Oh,” he cleared his throat. “Uh, don’t stop your conversation on my behalf. I’m just browsing.” He thought maybe he should introduce himself or remind her who he was, but seeing her scrutinization made him feel like it was a bad idea. Instead, he gave a slight bow and tried to move past her.

“I know you.” He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Why do I know you?” Still, he remained frozen. He heard her soft steps until she stood firmly in front of him. She looked him up and down, her tongue sticking out between her lips in concentration. He placed his hands in his pockets, hoping that it would somehow hide his jitters. Her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers. “Ah ha! You’re that grapefruit ahjussi! Right? I’m right. Right?”

So wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t want to seem too eager but he didn’t want to seem too nonchalant either. He decided to go with a mix and feigned recognition. “Oh, yea, I remember you now.” He hoped he came across as genuine. “Have you yelled at anyone else buying produce lately?”

She laughed and So swooned inwardly. “Ah, let me apologize for that. I’ve been told by others that I may have…. slightly overreacted.”

“Slightly? I’d hate to be around when you’re extremely overreacting.”

“In my defense, you were hovering over the fruit for a long time, ahjussi.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘ahjussi’? I’m not old enough to be an ahjussi. I can’t be older than you by a few years.”

“Maybe it’s your clothes. Or your hair? You’d look much more youthful if you pushed your hair out of your eyes.” She lifted her hand to his face and he flinched at the action out of habit. She waited, her hand hovering for just a second before gently proceeding to push his bangs behind his ear. She beamed at her handiwork. “There. That’s better. Now we can see those gorgeous brown eyes.”

So swallowed thickly and tried to regain his composure. “I, uh, I’m a bit shy… my eye…. uh that’s why I…” He found that he couldn’t remember how to complete sentences.

“Oh, oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to — I don’t what I was thinking.” She scrunched her face in shame, berating herself for her lapse in judgment.

He tried to find his words. “No, no it’s okay. I didn’t mind. But I feel like I should introduce myself now. I’m Wang So.” He thrust his hand out before his courage failed.

She took his hand cautiously. It was petal soft and warm. So liked the way her hand fit in his, like it was always meant to be there. “I’m Hae Soo. And not to be any more forward than I have been, but I’m actually a make-up artist. I could give you my card and you could call me and set up an appointment. I can show you all kind of tips and tricks so that you don’t have to hide behind your hair, though it is really nice hair. You know, only if you want to.”

“Yea, yea, that sounds… that sounds great. And I actually quite like your forward-ness.”

Still holding onto each others’ hand in a motionless handshake, they stood there with their eyes locked. So’s heart pounded so loudly, he was afraid his heart was going to burst from his chest. For Soo, she felt overwhelmed by the growing number of butterflies in her stomach and her hand tingled where he touched. Neither wanted to let go, for it felt like the world would come crashing once they did. But the tinkling bell of a customer entering interrupted their moment and, reluctantly, their hands fell to their side, itching to reach out again.

Hae Soo was the first to speak. “Well, it was nice running into you… Wang So. I’ll look forward to your call.” She gave a small wave, a vibrant blush filling in her cheeks and neck, and quickly left So in a daze.

Baek Ah, who had come in shortly after So and watched the entire exchange from behind a large bushy plant, rushed over and smacked So on his shoulder. “Hyung, what are you doing?! Go after her! Jesus Christ, you never even got her number!”

So, still swimming in a pool of bliss, a goofy smile plastered on his face, said, “Huh?”

Baek Ah growled. “Hyung, snap out of it. You were so busy gazing into each others’ eyes that you never actually exchanged numbers. Go. After. Her.”

So looked at his hand, then at the door, then at Baek Ah, and then back at the door again. “Crap!” And he was out the door. He quickly inspected both sides of sidewalk before finding her. Hae Soo was a few blocks down standing at a street corner and he figured if ran fast enough he could catch her before she crossed. He ran towards her like a madman, people nearly falling over so they wouldn’t be trampled. He got close enough to hear the light signaling that it was okay to cross.

“Hae Soo!” She had just stepped off the curb when he called. A look of surprise crossed her face as So almost collapsed in front of her. “Hae Soo,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Do you want — I mean, if you don’t have any other plans — would you like to come with me to the market and buy some grapefruit?” He flashed a clumsy grin at her.

For a moment, she just stared blankly at him and he was scared that he crossed a line. Maybe he had got their signals crossed and she purposefully left without giving him her card. But, then, she broke down in laughter. “You ran all that way to ask me to go get grapefruit with you?”

So chuckled and scratched at his neck. “I guess when you put it like that, it sounds weird.”

“Well, it just so happens, Wang So-ssi, that I really like grapefruit. So, I’ll take you up on that offer. But, first, I think we should go get some coffee.”

“Great! Yea, I love coffee.” He silently thanked Baek Ah for taking his coffee earlier. “I think I passed one on the way to the flower shop.”

Hae Soo gave him her sweetest smile and couldn’t help but fall into his eyes. They looked at her with such sincere intensity. Her heart fluttered in excitement and anticipation. “Then… it’s a date.” She lightly took his hand in hers, to his surprise, intertwining her fingers with his. “Is this okay? You did say you liked me being forward.”

So look down at their hands, very sure that he never wanted to let go of this girl. The eagerness he felt was new and assuring. He felt the rising urge to pull her to him, close enough to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her strawberry lips, but his heart told him now was not the moment for that. He knew he’d have plenty of opportunities to kiss her in the future. This moment was meant to be savored. Instead, he simply squeezed her hand a brushed her hair behind her ear. “It’s more than okay,” he finally replied.

Together, they strolled to the cafe, leaning into one another and taking enjoyment at their newly forming romance.  

Baek Ah watched the two enter the cafe from distance. He hummed to himself, happy for his friend’s good fortune. The photo his friend left behind was firmly in his hand. He lifted it and chuckled; Wang So’s mystery girl no longer beamed back at him. He couldn’t help but think that it really was their fate to meet, even though So didn’t believe in fate. He made a mental note to tell him so later. Right now, though, he looked at the couple through the cafe window. Both were laughing as Hae Soo animatedly told a story. So looked at her like she was an angel and she had just saved his soul. Maybe she did. It was clear to Baek Ah, though, that So was already an inch away from being in love and that the girl probably wasn’t far behind him. And they lived happily ever after, he thought, because of citrus.

[complete-laxative-addict]

I NEED MORE OF HIM

So I started playing the Crime Scene Cleaner game that was released on Steam yesterday, and I can tell you right now, I need some Kovalsky fanfic

[perry-the-platypus-f1cs]

SO the results from this post came in and so here it is!

Ao3 link

Blood for the price of money PT1

Summary:

Mr. Kovaksky gets involved in something larger than himself.   At first it's a simple call like many more before, but this time it was different. It had been years since he had dived face-first into the world of crime, blood, and gore, but Kavolsky knew that a call from Big Jim meant either two things:   One, he’s being laid off and is being given to another crime lord to clean up their messes, or two, he had another gruesome cleanup that he needed to be covered before police came sniffing.   It was neither.   A Call of Duty crossover with the game Crime Scene Cleaner

Kovalsky knew the many, many risks that came with this job. But he never ever thought that he would be sold off to a damn cartel leader, especially not one as renowned as El Sin Nombre.

“I'm sorry?” he asks as the hot metal of his phone pressed against his ear, making him feel even more enclosed in his slightly spacious apartment. He knew better than to piss off Jim, or Big Jim, as the man prefers to be called.

Kovalsky always somehow managed to breach the standard conduct that Jim’s other workers held, even though the slight breaches in respect towards Jim would land anyone else 6 feet deep, Kovalsky always managed to weasel his way back into the crime boss’s good graces. 

“I said that El Sin Nombre wants you to do a few jobs for them as a show of goodwill in our new partnership.” Jim’s gruff words were a demand, not a request, and it made Kovalsky’s spine straighten as the mob boss continued talking.

“I have told Sin Nombre about your... conditions. Rest assured, anything you find worth something you can take. As usual.” Jim’s voice crackles over the phone, but the information that he was just told Kovalsky allows the other man to breathe a small sigh of relief.

  “Thanks…” he replies, slightly unnerved by the whole situation of being an insurance for an alliance between a mob boss and an unknown cartel leader. And to think he was a school janitor a few months ago.

But hey, he has bills to pay and a sick daughter whose life is on a constant edge. What's a little blood on his hands when he can help save his dearest daughter? 

“You’re welcome, Mr. Cleaner. I’ve organised a private plane for you to get to Mexico. Sin Nombre’s men will meet you at the airport. Pack what you need.”

After Jim finishes speaking, the call cuts off, leaving Karvosky to the silence and isolation of his apartment. He lets out a heavy sigh, collapsing on the slightly uncomfortable couch, the springs digging into his back as he rubs his temple, the silence being broken by a soft bark coming from the lounge door. 

“Hey, Dexter.” He smiles as the small brown dog races across the room like a lightning bolt and leaps onto Kovalsky’s chest, affectionately licking the man's face, letting the tense situation and atmosphere lighten up even if it wasn't enough to quell the ever-approaching fear in Kavosky’s heart. 

—-----------------------------A few minutes later—-----------------------

The night was restless as Kovalsky drove towards the airport Jim sent him the directions to. His car was packed tightly with two suitcases he stuffed in the back before he had to speed off to the airport. 

Turns out someone knew he was coming because, judging by the men in very expensive tailored suits with holsters strapped to their belts, they were Jim’s men.

They were standing around a clear car park spot that Kavosky quickly drives into, and before he knew it, his bags were taken out of his car, and he was being led through the airport to a private airstrip. 

He knew that Jim was powerful but not ‘owning a whole airport’ powerful; it makes him think back to the times he had jokingly talked to Jim like he was your average Joe; he winces at the thought.

How close was he to death at those moments, only being spared because Jim needed him to clean up his messes? The idea isn't comforting. 

The airstrip is long, desolate, and grey like any other airstrip in the airport, except, of course, the others did not have a sleek, plain white plane with golden stripes lining the hull and wings of the plane.

Not quite what he was thinking if they wanted subtlety, but he was in no position to argue; he was here to do a job after all. That is if he didn't dig his own grave first. 

—----------------------hours later—--------------------------------

The flight was long and comfortable for the most part, but the watchful eyes of the crew and the men Jim sent with him didn't calm any of Kovalsky’s already skyrocketing nerves. The rough landing and drive to Las Almas was even more nerve-wracking, with nothing quelling the nerves bubbling in his stomach,

but the occasional smoke chiped of a little bit of the edge the men cramped with him in the car saying nothing as he exhales the smoke out of his nose, the swirling mist rising rising to the ceiling of the car.

The sleek black car comes to a stop. The man sitting in the passenger seat gets out of the car first, opening Koval's door for him. The other two men exit the car, the driver walking up to the large, pristine manor the car is parked in front of. The driver is met at the door by two balaclava-masked men armed with some type of rifles. 

The sight makes Kovalsky’s hands twitch, his nerve reaching a higher peak than it had on the journey over. ‘Okay… this just got real way faster than I thought it would.’ The thought disappeared just as fast as it came, and before he knew it, he was being led into an elevator to an upper floor of the manor. 

The masked men lead him and Jim’s men to an office on the higher levels of the manor. The office was a large, opulent space with walls lined with bookshelves.

A large mahogany table surrounded with velvet chairs is placed in the middle of the room. A woman with tan skin and dark hair sits at the furthest end of the table. She’s wearing a sleeveless shirt with a small white scarf draped over a small golden chain.

Kovalasky can feel her eyes pierce and look him up and down before she speaks, “So. You're the cleaner, Si?” She says, gesturing to him with one hand. Kovalsky finds himself nodding and giving a short, clipped answer: “Yes. That’s me.”

He answers, standing slightly straighter at being addressed directly by what he could only assume is one of El Sin Nombre’s lieutenants or El Sin Nombre herself.

He’s learnt in this line of work to underestimate no one man or woman; everyone can commit the atrocities that he eventually ends up cleaning. 

“Call me Valeria. I’ll be giving you jobs while you're staying here. Big Jim tells me that you’re good at your job. But while you're here, you answer to me. Got it, pendejo?”

She asserts, raising an eyebrow as if daring him to question a word she says, and Kovalsky can see in the corner of his eye the guards standing at the door tense and tighten their grip on the rifles in their hands. Kovalsky folds his hands in front of him, lowering his head slightly.

“Yes, ma’am, I understand.” 

Kovalsky knows that one of the only ways he’s getting out of this alive and without accidentally pissing off an entire cartel is to do whatever they want whenever they want.

He's gotten used to this routine with Jim, but nothing like this, and Kovalsky doesn't know if he should feel hurt or proud of himself that Jim just Airbnb’d out his cleaning services to a goddamn cartel. 

‘Just great, first time I'm meeting a cartel member, and she calls me an asshole.’ Kovalsky thinks to himself as the woman picks up a roughly folded piece of paper from the large table, standing up and walking over to him. 

“This has all the information you need.” She says, eyeing him with a little more respect than just a few seconds ago, but hey, he’ll take it. If bending over backwards means he’ll live, then you might as well call him a human slinky.

He took the paper from her hands, opening it, his eyes tracing over the delicately written letters detailing the paper.

389 Alexander Street (safehouse)

Code: 775396

“I’ll get started on it now.” Kovalsky says, pocketing the paper, his body slumping slightly in preparation for the blood, gore, and probable horrorshow that will no doubt be that safehouse, the one that he gets to clean—lucky him. 

“A car is ready for you in the parking lot.” Valeria says offhandedly before throwing a keychain at him. He stumbles, the keys hitting his chest, but he catches them before they hit the floor. 

“Thanks…,” he says warily, but what could he say? He turns awkwardly and steps towards the door, looking behind his back, catching a glimpse of Valeria’s smile before he hurriedly rushes out of the room, tripping slightly at the door and mentally cursing himself as he makes his way down via the elevator.

It stops at the second floor, and the ride could be described in one word: AWKWARD. Reason why?

Because standing only a few feet away from him are one guard and another man who Kovalsky assumes is an enforcer of some type, telling by his orangish-yellow detailed top and the golden chain hung around his neck and the bush that's plastered on his face that the man probably calls a beard. 

The guard is holding a man who sticks out like a sore thumb against his surroundings: a grey t-shirt, deep blue pants, a tattoo on his left forearm, and an insignia of some sort,

but the thing that stands out the most is the absolutely atrocious hairstyle planted on his head, a scrappy mohawk that looks like a crackhead with a razor could do a better job than the hairstyle on the man's head. 

The enforcer-looking man turns to him, huffing a cruel, twisting smile on his face, “Aye, cabron? You're the ‘Mr. Cleaner,’ aren't you?” The enforcer asks, tilting his head to the side as he looks at Kovalsky similarly to the way Valeria had looked at him, but this time it's more calculating, personal.

Kovalsky straightened his posture, leaning back against the elevator walls, “And if I am?” he asks, tilting his head, his eyes swinging over the guard and the other shity-haired man.

Kovalsky notices how the other two men observe him…calculating. The enforcer smirks, nodding his head, “Aye, pendejo? You are him, eh?” the enforcer says, taking a step back, looking Kovalsky up and down, nodding his head.

 The presumably captured or kidnapped man looks at Kovalsky warily, looking between the other men suspiciously, taking in all the details of the conversation.

The elevator lands on the bottom floor, and Kovalsky exits, thinking back on what the hell just happened in the elevator, but he quickly pushes those thoughts down, knowing that he was here to do a job, and he would be damned if he let a cartel enforcer and a man with a bad haircut distract him from doing his job. 

The doors shut behind him, and the elevator started to ascend to the top floor. Kovalsky’s feet carried him through the winding hallways and out of the looming mansion towards one of the empty black cars with heavily tinted windows. His fingers press down on the unlock button on the keys Valeria had given him. 

The car's front light flashes, and he opens the door, slamming it behind him after he sits down in the driver's seat.

“This is a pretty nice car," he admits to himself, running his calloused hands along the sleek leather steering wheel.

His foot finds the gas pedal, and the engine roars to life, the car vibrating and buzzing with energy. He sighs, dreading the mess and the smell of blood and gore. But hey, whatever he needs to do to get out of here and get a hefty pay cheque is worth it, right?

And with that he drives along the winding roads.

An unsuspecting man in an unsuspecting car about to commit a crime no sane person would ever do. But here he was in the Gulf of Mexico about to clean up a safehouse for a cartel leader that his boss lent him to for a criminal organisation alliance. What could go wrong?

Notes:

Hello! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! I'm sorry to say that it will be a long time before this fic will be updated due to me being on holiday and the fact that I have 2 other fanfics that I'm trying to finish BUT this fic will continue! thank you for you time. have an amazing night/day!