#cw: fictional parental death

[twothpaste]

porky in his 30s

Porky in his 30s confesses through gritted teeth that his greatest fear is becoming his father. His sister looks him in the eye. She always dresses nice when they meet. A tasteful coat or blazer. A sleek skirt or dress. Hair with a fresh dye job, or the kiss of a curling iron - but always kept cleanly out of her face. He wonders whether she's trying to impress him, or if it's simply force of habit. She's taller than him. So she's gotta look down. She's changed so much, he can hardly recognize her. His greatest fear is becoming their father, he tells her.

And she says "Then don't, Pat."

Porky in his 30s talks to Lardna on the phone. She casually misgenders Agnes, and calls her "Picky." And Porky immediately starts ripping into her about what a sorry excuse for a mother she is, how she doesn't fucking deserve Agnes, she should be ashamed of herself for everything she's ever done to his sister, until Lardna's in tears hanging up on him. And Porky doesn't do it because he's suddenly become some kind of valiant trans ally. He does it out of raw spite toward his mom, gleeful to have another cudgel to wield against her. But, deep down, he's also painfully aware that Agnes is the only person in the world who's given him the slightest semblance of a second chance. And in his sick guts churns a vicious impulse to defend her specifically, at all costs - the sort of big brother instinct he hasn't felt since he was 12. And that scares him, too. Because he can't for the life of him tell whether it makes him selfless or selfish, grown up or childish.

Porky in his 30s talks to Aloysius on the phone. He casually misgenders Agnes, and calls her "Picky." And Porky tastes bile in his throat, wants to throw up, wants to shout him down, wants to drive halfway across the country and meet him in Florida just to punch the son of a bitch upside the jaw. But instead he chomps down hard on his tongue. And balls a fist. And says, "Hahah, yeah." Through those same gritted teeth. Did Porky do it because he knows Agnes & Aloysius are not on speaking terms, and Aloysius is a raging queerphobe, and outing his sister here would condemn her to his wrath and ire, and she doesn't deserve that, it's her big brother's duty to protect her from that. Or. Did Porky just do it because he's still deathly afraid of his father. He doesn't know. After he hangs up, he puts his fist in the wall, 'til his knuckles bruise, because he still doesn't know. He shaves his mustache off in the bathroom. His hands are so trembly, he nicks himself a couple times.

Porky in his 30s, and his sister has a kid now. And she's invited him to meet her. And he doesn't fucking want to. He puts it off for a couple years. He can tell Agnes is disappointed. He buries himself in his stupid shitty accounting business, and tries to ignore her. When he can't anymore, he tells her everything he touches turns to garbage. He's afraid he's gonna ruin the kid somehow. Frighten her, hurt her, traumatize her irreparably with his presence alone. Agnes tells him that's silly. "Just behave yourself, dude." The kid deserves a whole family, she insists. It's the least you can do. So Porky catches a flight to Seattle, and drags his miserable bones to her porch, and slowly, agonizingly smacks his trademark knock on her door. He has to greet Tracy, as if he didn't yank her hair and steal her things when they were little, and as if she didn't sock him in the nose about it, and as if they didn't both get hell from their folks for it. They've got an old cat, and he's allergic, so he has to take care not to sneeze his germs everywhere - especially not on his niece. But when the snot-nosed brat looks him in the eye, smiles, and calls him "Uncle Pat"? Something in his heart instantly turns warm and gooey.

Porky in his 30s, and his father's liver abruptly gives out. He attends the funeral. And it's all about Lardna, of course. All through lunch, and the drive there, and all the proceedings, she's been blabbering on about what a tragedy this is for her - even though they divorced when Porky was in middle school, and it was probably the best thing that'd ever happened to her. Prettyman supplies her with endless tissues and condolences, and praise for bearing such kind sentiments toward a man who gave her nothing but grief. Porky feels like a side of beef liver. He wants a drink. But the smell of liquor's been making him queasy. So he grumbles off to go smoke, instead.

He finds Agnes standing outside, like a deer in the headlights. Which surprises him. He'd assumed it was a given that she wasn't coming. She says she almost didn't. But now, she's not sure she can make it through the door. He scoffs. Tells her not to bother. They stand there in silence for a moment, Agnes takes shallow breaths, and leans against the wind. Eventually, she asks if he's alright. "What's it matter," he huffs. Snuffing out his cigarette. No sooner than he's crushed it under his heel, he's stunned by a sudden warmth that comes over him. Arms pulled gently around his too-tight suit. He blinks. 'Cause he hasn't been hugged, he realizes, since he was in middle school. It hits him like a wave. He's powerless to stop it. One second he's sneering, and the next he's bawling into her arms. Hiccuping and wailing, even. Like a little goddamn kid.

And Agnes is taken aback, of course. She mumbles, "woah, um," as she staggers. But she doesn't let him go. She pats his back. Tells him it's gonna be alright. He wants to believe her. He really, really wants to believe her.

She drives him to his hotel. For only the second time ever, he tells her he's sorry.

"Hey," she says. With a sad but earnest smile. "Don't worry 'bout it, Pat."

[ai-the-broccoli]

I had a fucking dream where I met Jesus, and I was Judas the whole time it happened????

[runner-owen]

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why? (Honestly would love if you answered for all three but if I have to pick one then Owen please)

That's a very very interesting question anon!

All of their various traumatic events are vaguely plot related but, thinking about it, all the ones I would spare them of, if I could, involve family

I wish I could give Owen a better adoptive family, instead of the ones he ended up running away from. They had ulterior motives for adopting him, wanting to be seen as morally good people more than actually being good. And when Owen tried to fight against the boundaries set up for him, well... There's a reason he ran away.

For Lord Aurum and the Scarred Man... Both of them have mommy issues. Lord Aurum's mother was killed by vampires when he was small. The Scarred Man's mother was a human slave who gave birth to him the day humanity defeated the vampires. She died when he was a young teenager. Lord Aurum would be a happier, kinder person with his mother around. And the Scarred Man... Well, I can't go into too much detail but if his mother hadn't died when she did, there wouldn't be a Scarred Man as we know him today. But then again, we wouldn't have a story in that case...

Not sure this really answers your question but I hope it's satisfying! Thanks for asking!

[the-sun-and-the-craftsman]

The Sun and the Craftsman - Chapter 4

Content warnings for this chapter are at the bottom and tagged!

For more info, read the pinned post here.

It’s been two days since Ashur’s had to deal with humans, and that’s been a welcome relief. 

He sits in the kitchen, watching the oven in front of him. He can hear the sound of sand trickling through the hourglass on top of the counter, but he doesn’t look at it—he'll know it’s done when the sound stops. The scent of fresh-baked cake fills the area around him, only serving to make him hungrier. 

Slowly, he lifts his arm to his parted jaws and sets it inside. His jaws move like molasses as he gradually sinks his teeth into his own flesh. A sting of pain reminds him that he’s not supposed to do that—he silences it with a quick magical flick to the nerves in his arm, cutting all of them off. 

His own ichor tastes sharp and vibrant. 

He’s done this kind of thing—cleaving his own flesh, that is—plenty of times before, even in front of that particular batch of humans. There’s no reason a little head injury should’ve fooled them, but, by himself, it did. They actually thought he lost his memory, and they actually trusted him to toss their sorry asses back to where they came from. 

He chews slowly and methodically, extracting every bit of flavor from the chunk of his arm before sending it to his stomach, which reacts with a hungry pang. Sand continues to pour. 

The kitchen’s a mess. Ashur doesn’t need to look to know that he’s left all of his supplies out, from the mixing bowls and baking trays to the dashes of flour across the counter and the stained cutting boards dripping with juices of fruit that didn’t even make it into the recipe before Ashur had devoured it. But it doesn’t matter, there’s no one to judge him for his hunger anymore. 

He takes another bite, feeling his teeth scuff against the bone in his arm. 

This has been all of today and yesterday. Yesterday he had cooked a few new types of pizza that he had been aching to try, and today it’s all been cakes and other sweets.  Tomorrow, he thinks, maybe he’ll go to some other world and try some new restaurants, have someone else cook for him for once. It’s been a long time since he’s established himself as the bane of buffets. 

A flash of magic catches his attention—there's a new presence on Ana. He quickly heals his arm, flesh growing over the missing pieces. Standing up, he grabs a nearby towel to wipe the ichor off and, feeling nothing on the arm he grew back, reactivates the nerves threading through it. After tossing the towel on top of one of the nearby piles, he heads over to the balcony connected to the kitchen, his mind whirling with possibilities. Was this something he had planned and then forgotten about? Was it somebody forcing their way in? They got past the shield without breaking it, and normally, only his magic can do that—is it another apotheon somehow forcing their way in?! 

He steps out onto the wooden balcony and peers down, looking toward the direction where the magic came from. And he sees a familiar tall figure wrapped in a long, dark brown duster. 

Oh. Right. He gave Darius his portal rune. Well, he didn’t think the little bastard would actually come back. 

Sighing, he darts back inside and through the winding depths of his tree, heading down to the root system where his exits are. Climbing out of one of the basements and into the small field surrounding his tree before it turns to his orchards, he stands up and approaches Darius. 

“Two days,” he says with a wry chuckle. “You couldn’t even stay away from me for two days!” He grins as he trots toward the haggard-looking figure. Darius is always looking like he has something to complain about, but now, looking at him from behind, Ashur can see how much pain he’s in, can see the dirt caked on him, matting his hair—he can sense Darius’ nerves firing off pain and panic and a whole cocktail of desperate human emotions. 

Darius turns around, shooting Ashur a glare with those deep brown eyes. And glancing Darius’ body up and down makes Ashur stop in his tracks. 

The noose around his neck is new. 

The two of them lock eyes for a few moments. Ashur’s gaze follows the rope as it trails down Darius’ body and along the ground, ending in a tight knot around a snapped branch. 

Darius wrenches the noose from his neck, struggling to loosen it and pull it over his head before whipping it at the ground. Ashur steps back, looking down at the branch. It must’ve come from a tree on Earth—he just hopes it doesn’t have one of those messed up Earth blights. He gingerly traces a path around Darius and picks up the branch, letting fire spring from his hand to set it ablaze. 

“You’re...so...” Darius pants, latent rage in his tone, but words seem to fail him as his glazed-over eyes wander from Ashur’s position. 

“I didn’t do this,” Ashur scoffs, taking the branch in his other hand and cracking it in half. Both pieces soon crumble to nothing but embers, and he drops them in the dew-soaked grass at his feet. “I can get a lot more creative than just hanging you.” 

“You sent me back!” Darius says lowly. 

“You never told me you’d get hanged,” Ashur says with a shrug. “In fact, you never really told me anything about where you came from.” 

Darius shakes his head, then does a double-take at Ashur. 

"Right,” he says. “You have your memory.” 

Ashur sighs. 

“I never lost it,” he says. 

Darius blinks. 

“Dirty liar,” he growls under his breath, and Ashur feels a sting course through him. 

“I am not!” he snaps, looking Darius in the eyes. 

“You lied to us! You said you lost your memory!” 

“Did I say it?” Ashur asks. “Or did you and the others just assume it?” 

Darius opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Ashur watches the memories pass Darius by as the human clearly tries to come up with some example where Ashur had been blatantly lying. Eventually, he settles on the best he can come up with. 

“You never denied it,” he whines. “You just let us think that you’d lost your memory, which is a form of lying!” 

“Is it, though?” Ashur asks coyly. He strides to the discarded noose and reaches down to lift it with one finger, feeling its rough, frayed edges as he toys with it. “All I did was walk around with a wound on my head asking people who they were. If that counted as lying, then I guess you also lied to me about your criminal past, walking around acting like you were innocent.” 

“I’m not a criminal!” Darius says with a force that makes Ashur flinch back—he's never heard Darius’ voice so loud. “It’s not a crime if nobody would bring him to justice!” 

Ashur likes this feeling. Finally, after months of messing with this guy just to have him shut himself up in his house for years afterward, he’s got him right where he wants him. 

“Ah,” he says. “A crime of passion!” 

He swears he can feel the heat radiating from Darius’ body. 

“I’m not a criminal!” Darius repeats, taking a step toward Ashur, then very quickly backing off as he remembers who he’s talking to. “You would do the same thing in my shoes!” 

Ashur, in turn, closes the distance between them. “And what would that be?” he asks, fiddling with the rope in his hands, stretching up on his toes until the tips of their noses are almost touching. 

Darius hesitates, glancing away from Ashur, as if there’s someone else who could intervene. Finally, he sighs through his nose and closes his eyes. 

“The man killed my parents,” he says in a steady, even tone. 

Ashur’s eyes widen. He lets the rope fall from his hands. Darius continues. 

“Right in front of me,” he says, his voice betraying some of his pain. “Didn’t know I was there. If he did, he would’ve killed me too.” 

The two of them stand there for a moment, face to face. Darius closes his eyes. 

Ashur can’t help but feel a twinge of that kind of pain too, even if his own parents are only an idea in his mind. 

“They tried to kill you for killing your parents’ murderer?” Ashur asks, gesturing down to the rope on the ground. 

“Yes,” Darius says. “But, I was expecting it. He was a nice, upstanding white man with no qualms. And I was a rough colored boy with an axe to grind. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” 

“Why?” Ashur asks. 

“You’re white, too,” Darius says. 

Ashur laughs. “I’m not white,” he says. 

Darius frowns. “You’re white with a tan.” 

“Whatever.” Ashur shakes his head. He’s not gonna fight this battle right now. “So, they tried to kill you for a stupid reason. And I’ve gone after you for stupider reasons.” 

“But you’ve never actually tried to kill me,” Darius says. “So it made sense to come back here.” 

Ashur sighs. Looks like he’s gonna have to get creative. 

“Why don’t you come inside?” he asks. He picks up the rope and winds it up, working to untie the slipknot at the end. “We can talk about your options now that you’re here.” 

Nodding, giving a shuddering sigh, Darius follows Ashur as he heads inside.

CW: mentions of head injury, lynching, deceit, persecution, death of a parent or guardian, murder, and racial tension descriptions of auto-cannibalism and fire. 

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[misserabella]

i want to hear you scream

tsunderes abby and ellie! x fem! reader

synopsis; strange and gory murders have been going on in your town. it’s one night alone at your home that you discover the reason behind this slashers, and the identity of those behind the mask.

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, murders of characters, description of stabbing and gore, slashers, knives, blood, death of fictional characters, chasing, fear, kissing, making out sessions, dirty talking, teasing, pleading and begging, prey kink (?), use of y/n (i’m sorry but it was needed) but mostly of nicknames like doll, princess and baby, threats, knife kink (?), dom! abby and ellie x sub! reader, nipple and boob play, fingering, face riding, oral sex (r and abby receiving), strap on use (r! receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking, choking, sick obsession, abby and ellie are tsunderes for reader, abby and ellie make out (😍), degradation and praise, praise kink, cum eating, ellie and abby use reader like a toy…

a/n; i’ve spent three days on this. it’s been hard and i hope all of you really like this halloween special. have lots of fun and be safe this halloween! love you! also special thanks to @atomicami and @abbyscherry for cheering me up so much ily!!!🩷

“this is so horrible…” you told your best friend dina as you watched the news. harry, a guy from your high school had been murdered. he was the fourth victim in the hands of this terrible murderer called ghost face. your high school had cancelled its classes in hope to make its students safer, to no avail and luck it seemed, since every morning a new body appeared.

“shit! he gutted him up!” dina yelled, eyes widened as she stared at the screen, now showing harry with his abdomen open, intestines hanging and in full display. you looked away, incapable to look.

“why a he? it could be a girl.” you said, and dina looked at you.

“could you gut a guy up? are you the killer?!” she jumped and you shook your head.

“i slept with you last night!”

“maybe you snuck out and killed harry!” you frowned.

“why would i do that?”

“for how he treated you last year, remember? when you turned him down and then went bragging about having fucked you and saying ‘how much of a slut you were’.” she explained. “it seems reasonable to me.”

“you’re right… and you’re next!” you screamed as you jumped on her, making her laugh as you tickled her.

“okay, okay! i surrender!” she struggled in between chuckles and you pulled away, letting her breath.

that was when your phone pinged with a new notification. you sighed when you saw who it was coming from.

“who’s that?” dina inquired, peeking from your side to get a glimpse of the screen. “ugh. liam? again?! he is fucking obsessed.”

“i know. i don’t know why he keeps trying. i already told him i don’t go for boys but he won’t stop.” you rolled your eyes, leaving your phone aside. “by the way, didn’t you have to go meet up with jesse?” you remembered, to what your friend gasped.

“oh my god i’m so late!!!” she jumped out of the couch, putting on her shoes. “when are your parents getting home?” she asked.

“not for another couple of days.”

“wait. should i stay with you? i’m not sure you should be left alone… do you want me to stay?” you shook your head.

“no! no! i’ll be alright. i promise.” she didn’t move, to why you got up and pushed her slightly so she’d start moving towards the door. “go! jesse is waiting for you.”

she groaned. “okay! but promise me you’ll stay safe!” she said and you nodded, opening the door for her, your fuzzy socks against the hardwood floor.

“i promise. you too please.” she nodded, and gave you a tight hug.

“lock the doors!” she yelled as she made her way back to her car.

“don’t trust the love interest!” you yelled back and she funnily looked at you, rolling her eyes.

you waved at her goodbye and watched her drive away before closing your front door and locking it. you cheeked every door and window of your house, making sure they were closed.

you went back to the salon, getting snacks on the way to scroll through the different options of movies you had to spend your time with. you went ahead and picked one horror one, it was october after all.

you were mid-film when your phone lighted up with another notification from liam.

you rolled your eyes, taking a peek at the later and most recent messages he had sent you.

you frowned.

“what?” you muttered to yourself. was this a joke? was he playing with you?

next thing you knew your phone was ringing, liam’s name on your screen. you picked it up, an unknown voice coming through the phone. it was not liam.

“hello, y/n.”

“who’s this? where’s liam?” you heard a chuckle.

“asking about a man while talking to me? now you might make me jealous…” “liam can’t come to the phone right now. he’s… indisposed.” you looked out your windows, you could feel someone watching you. it was making your skin crawl. “what are you looking for, hm?”

“i’m gonna call the police.” you nervously said, and heard a laughter.

“ending our little play date so soon? we haven’t even played yet. do you want to play a game, y/n?” you were growing paler by the minute, your skin shining in a cold sweat.

you quickly hung up the phone, calling dina instead.

“come on, come on…” you muttered as it rang. “pick up, pick up!” you sighed when she finally did. “oh thank god, dina! there’s something wrong! i think there’s someone…” but all your words died on your throat when that same voice came though the line.

“did i tell you you could hang up on me?” this time it was rougher. your phone received a video, in which you could see dina and jesse laughing and eating popcorn. “dina seems pretty happy tonight, hanging with her little boyfriend. she really shouldn’t leave her phone lying around for anyone to clone…”

“what do you want?” you sacredly asked, throat dry.

“i told you, i want to play a game. horror movie trivia, three rounds. you call the cops, she and her boyfriend die. you get a question wrong, they die. i can be in that room in 15 seconds. you want a warm up question?” you were sobbing by the time.

“i don’t know much about horror movies!” you pleaded, hearing a chuckle.

“poor thing…” “in the fist stab movies, what woodsboro native was introduced as the franchise’s main character?” the killer completely ignored you, starting the game.

you though for a moment before the answer came up to your mind. “it’s sidney prescott!” you sniffled, quickly talking. “it’s sidney prescott and she lived on elm.”

“correct!” the voice cheered. “you see? you’re gonna do great at this! okay, question one—“

you frowned, quickly cutting them up.

“no, no, no, no… i got that one right. it should count.”

“that was your warm up question, sweet thing, anyone could have gotten that one right, it’s easy. sidney’s in every movie but the last one.” “question one. who wrote the book the shining?” the killer inquired and you quickly answered. you knew that one.

“stephen king!”

“correct. dina and jesse might live to see the sunrise.” “question two. how many people died at the hand of jason in the first friday the 13th movie?” your eyes widened.

“um… um…” shitshitshit.

“times ticking…”

you quickly left the call and entered google, searching the answer. once you came up with it with shaky hands, you answered.

“none.”

“correct! you seemed to pull that one off. let’s move to the last question…” “what is the number one rule on randy’s list for surviving a horror movie in scream?”

your face fell. “i…”

you didn’t know.

you were trying to find the answer but nothing was coming up. why was there nothing coming up?!

“no answer?” you swallowed your tears as you walked to the kitchen, taking a knife. you were getting ready for what’s coming.

“fuck you.” you spat, and heard a chuckle once again.

“close… but wrong. now, you might be able to answer to this one… am i inside the house or out?” your blood ran cold. suddenly, you heard a creek of the floor wood, and when you turned around, there it was, black eyes and white face staring at you in a scream.

you shrieked, and ran, hearing quick footsteps behind you. you ran was quickly as you could towards the entry door, which stood open, handle jammed, but before you could reach a couple of arms were engulfing you in a tight grip, and your knife was clattering on the floor.

you screamed, trying to fight off the masked killer, punching and kicking them as hard as you could, to no avail. they were too strong.

“shh, shh, that’s harsh baby. treating me so badly when the only thing i’ve done is treat you so right…” the modulated voice whispered on your ear, pulling you with them to your living room. “i even brought you a present!” the killer said, and in a blink the lights to your garden were on, showing who seemed to be liam tied to a chair, eyes widening in terror when he saw you, trying to free himself from the restraints, and scream thought the tape shutting his mouth.

but what really made your heart jump was the other ghost face standing beside him, who crooked their head to the side. “what’s the matter, y/n? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“there are…, two?” you inquired to yourself in disbelief, in fear. this made a lot of sense to why they couldn’t find the culprit to all these murders.

“oh, sweetheart, there’re always two.” the ghostface holding you muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “what do you have to say about your present, hm? isn’t it pretty?” your eyes drifted back to liam, who was already staring at you with a terrified look in his eyes. he looked beat up, nose broken and one of his eyes puffy and turning purple.

you felt your eyes pricking with tears at the thought that you could be next. “what do you want?” you wobbly inquired.

“you don’t like it? we did it just for you. we know how much he’s been nagging you. poor brain dead boy can’t take a hint.” liam grunted when the ghostface beside him gave him a smack in the head.

“we also found out something you’d like to see…” the ghostface behind you said, pressing the knife against your throat just a little tighter so you wouldn’t move as they freed you from one of their arms, their gloved hand dipping inside the pockets of their dark cloak and pulling out a hand of pictures. “why don’t you take a look?” your eyes drifted to the pictures they were handing you. they were all of you. in high school, at your home, sleeping, with your friends…

“what… what is this?” your fear coated voice asked, and the other ghost face chuckled.

“why don’t you ask, liam? caught him rubbing one out to them. seems like he likes you a little bit too much.” your eyes widened in horror. he had been stalking you?

“that’s a little bit serial killer of you, liam…” the ghostface behind you sarcastically said, clicking their tongue.

“liam…?” you called for him, and the other ghostface pulled the tape off of his mouth.

“i… i’m sorry! i couldn’t help it!” you felt sick to your stomach, the urge to puke deep in your throat. he stopped talking as the ghostface punched him in the face.

“fucking disgusting…” liam grunted when they took him by the hair, a knife on his throat. “you make me want to gut you up, like all those other pigs and bitches before you. they had it fucking coming by trying to hurt her, fuck her.” your heart seemed to stop, your eyes widened.

“wait…” you looked as pale as a ghost, blood frozen in your veins. “you did all of this… killed all of them… for me?” you suddenly stopped feeling those warm arms around you, letting you free. you were in shock, stuck in place.

“you seem surprised.” the ghostface beside you cocked their head, waving their knife. “what? couldn’t expect someone would kill for you? oh baby, we would do anything for you.” they walked away from you and towards the other ghostface. “sarah martins. bullied you all the way through your first years of high school. she made you so unhappy… we couldn’t let her get away with it.” they said. “bitch died like a fucking pussy, calling for her mommy.” they snickered.

“cole brown.” the other ghostface, who now you could see was much broader and taller than the one that had been holding you spoke. “really thought making fun of you at prom was ‘cool’. cool was the way his face caved in when i dug my fucking axe into his brains.”

“sarah smith. that bitch couldn’t keep her mouth shut, speaking badly of you to everyone. i made her eat shit, and then, her own puke before i turned her into a fucking strainer.”

“harry davis. sour motherfucker. couldn’t fuck you so he had to lie about it. gutted him like a fish.”

“and lastly, you…” the taller ghostface took liam’s face with one of their big hands. “what should we do with you?”

“let’s just finish him off already, i’m getting bored.” the other said, lifting their knife.

they had killed them all… for you. because they… loved you?

“who are you?” you inquired, the masks both looking back at you. you could almost feel their smirks.

“look at her. isn’t she cute? we killed 4 people for her and she’s already in deep.” the ghostface laughed. “is that it sweet thing? that’s why you ain’t running? you liked that we hurt these people for you?” you shook your head.

“no, i-“

“i think you do. i think you’re getting off on this. having someone so obsessed with you that they’d kill those that had hurt you.“

“that’s not true!”

“what makes you think you couldn’t be next?” the other asked, stepping closer to you, and you took a step back, their big figure intimidating.

“you love me.” you said, and they sighed.

“that i do. but that doesn’t mean that i couldn’t hurt you.” you took a glimpse at the knife in their hands. “do you want me to hurt you?” your legs shook. you could feel the eyes behind the mask trailing down your body, covered by your skimpy little pijama. “answer me.” the killer ordered, but you could only focus on the dragging of their knife up your stomach, slowly.

“no.”

“liar.” you shivered, gasping when a hand circled your neck.

“what do you want from me…?”

“you know what we want.” you gulped, thighs squeezing against the other. “and you seem to want it too.” you unconsciously bit down on your lip. why was this strangely turning you on? they were killers for god sakes, you should be calling the cops, running as far as you could. but suddenly they were pushing away. “but first… we need to take care of our little friend here.” they went back to liam, who looked terrified.

“please, please let me go, i won’t do it again!” he begged, and the other ghostface groaned.

“ugh. hate it when they start begging.” they said before stabbing him in the stomach, making him yelp in pain. you gasped, hands going up to your mouth as you watched the blood starting to pour down onto the floor of your patio. “don’t you get it?” they inquired, pressing the knife to his temple. “you’re not getting out of here alive.”

“no, please!” another stab, this time coming from the ghostface that had come up to you moments ago.

“should’ve thought it twice before messing with our girl.”

our girl. our girl. our girl. our girl. our girl. our girl.

you were their girl.

another stab.

and another.

and another.

you could just stand there and watch as blood sputtered from liam’s lip, as the life slowly left his eyes and he bled to death. one final slice to the throat was what finally ended his suffering, cascades of blood trailing down his neck and chest as he tried to breath in gurgles. with one last shaky breath, he was gone.

“one more, one less.” one of them said, before the two of them turned towards you, white masks splattered in blood. “now… what should we do with you?” you shivered as they stepped closer, you could feel their intense gaze on you.

“such a pretty little thing… look at her. i’ve waited for this moment for so long…”

they were caging you in between them and the exterior wall of your home like predators would with their prey. they thrived on this, on your terror, on this little sick game of theirs.

you gasped when your back hit the wall, cold surface against your burning skin. then, their hands were on you, and you were in flames. your skin grew in goosebumps.

“so beautiful…” you watched as the taller one took off their bloody gloves, one of their warm strong hands cupping your cheek. “can’t stain such a pretty thing with their filthy blood, right?” “now. why don’t you tell us what you want, hm?”

“your faces. i want to see your faces.” you begged, hands shaking.

“whatever my girl wants.” the other said, before raising their still gloved hands towards their mask, the one touching you did the same, and at the same time they let them fall onto the floor.

all breath left your lungs. they were beautiful. like angels of death that had come knocking down on your door. you were mesmerized. blonde strands with the bluest eyes staring into your soul, along with green ones with auburn hair that would shine like fire under the sun. you were mesmerized.

the freckled girl chuckled, her now naked hands taking your chin. “look at her, like a deer in dead lights. like what you see, baby?” your cheeks flushed. you did. you tried to look away, but there was the tall blonde to stop you, her hand back against your cheek.

“aw, don’t go and get shy on us now. you better answer ellie, princess.”

ellie. the green eyed was called ellie.

“i do.” you said, and their smirks only grew more.

“i bet you do, hm?” ellie hummed, her thumb pressing against your bottom lip, caressing it. “you know. i’m so tired due to all the killing and all… treated you so good… i think we deserve a thank you, don’t you think doll?” you nodded. god. her voice was doing things to you.

“thank you.” you breathed out, but she clicked her tongue.

“come on, i think you can do better than that, hm?” she stared at your lips, thumb pulling from your bottom one, and you gulped. you knew what she wanted. you nodded, and she smiled, wetting her own with her tongue as she leant in. you couldn’t help but stare at her lips due to that gesture, slowly closing the distance in between the two of you until her lips were on yours. she groaned, and your whole body shivered. it didn’t take long until her tongue was pushing inside your mouth, and you whimpered, your eyes closed shut as you kissed her back. once she pulled away, there was a string of spit connecting both of your lips. she licked at your bottom lip to get rid of it, making you slightly moan. “good girl.” she praised, and your cunt throbbed. “now, why don’t you thank abby, hm? don’t want her to get jealous.”

abby. ellie and abby. why did their names have to be as pretty as them?

abby bit down on her bottom lip, cunt throbbing at your half lidded eyes, dazed face and swollen reddish lips. she wanted to eat you whole. she didn’t waste time in pulling you by your waist, warm tongue inside your mouth as your hands clasped on her strong broad shoulders. they kissed so good… the kiss quickly escalated. she was hungry. you moaned against her lips as her hands took your ass, squeezing, pulling impossibly closer. “abby…” you sighed when you felt her lips on her neck.

“fuck. sounds even better than i expected.” she muttered, her name sounded heavenly if it came from your lips.

“now i’m the one getting jealous.” ellie said with a a smirk on her lips, obviously enjoying the little show you two where giving her. you pulled from her cloak closer, and her eyes fell as she leant in when you did, searching her lips once again. “oh, yeah?” her eyebrows arched and you nodded, kissing her. this time she wasn’t as soft as the first time, biting down on your bottom lip as your hands dipped in her auburn hair. she hummed. this was heaven. ellie’s lips on your own and abby’s on your neck, sucking bruises that you won’t even bother to cover —it’s not as if they’d let you—. suddenly ellie’s hands were on your boobs, and your back arched, her fingers pinching your nipples. “let’s go to your room, hm?” you nodded, fucked out look on your face, and took one of their hands in between your own to drag them upstairs.

you were on the bed as soon as you were stepping into your room, abby and ellie taking their cloaks of to show their jeans and wife beaters, along with the bulges resting in between their thighs. your mouth watered, and ellie chuckled.

“my eyes are up here, doll.” you blushed.

“needy little thing, you just need a good fuck, don’t you?” abby’s sultry voice went straight to your cunt, and you moaned, nodding. “of course you do, look at you. i bet that little pussy of yours is soaked, isn’t it?” you bit down on your lip, and nodded again. “why don’t you show us, baby?” suddenly, you felt exposed, their gazes on you making you shiver. you slowly took of your shorts, along with your cotton panties, which were now drenched in your slick. your whole body was burning by the time your thighs parted, your cunt on full display for the pair, who groaned at the same time. “open up for me, princess.” she muttered, eyes unable to move away from your soaked folds. you complied, two of your fingers dipping in between them to pull them apart, slick keeping them connected, and show your twitching entrance and puffy little clit.

“fuuuuck.” ellie moaned, one of her hands coming down to her crotch to palm herself, the back of her strap rubbing her own throbbing clit. “good girl.” she praised, and you whimpered, your hole twitching in need.

“please…” you begged.

“what do you want, princess? tell us and we’ll give it to you.” abby said.

“i want you. i want you to fuck me.” that was their breaking point. ‘cause who were they to say no to something they’ve been dreaming about for years. they were on you in a blink. hands all over your body. abby’s fingers dipped in between your folds, ellie’s hands got rid of your shirt, leaving you completely exposed and naked for them, and took a hold of your tits. your back arched, maybe at the tight circles abby was drawing on your clit, maybe at the feeling of ellie’s lips and tongue on your sensitive nipples. a pornographic drawn out moan left your lips, your eyes squeezing shut. “fuck.” you cried out. you’ve never felt like this. you’ve never been this wet.

“so fucking soaked, you’re desperate for it, huh?” abby groaned, and ellie bit down on your nipple. “gonna stuff this pretty pussy up.” you moaned.

“you want abby to fuck you baby? want her to stretch you open on her cock?” ellie taunted you. you nodded, and she smirked. “of course you do… why don’t you get on your hands and knees for us, hm?” your legs were quivering, arms wobbly as you pushed yourself to the position she had asked for, exposing your ass and wet cunt to the hungry eyes of abby, whose hands came down to squeeze your ass cheeks, making you whine. ellie’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, slightly pushing inside your mouth. “open.” she ordered, and your mouth fell ajar for her. “more.” you gagged as she pushed down on your tongue. “thaaat’s it.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a moan ripped your throat when you felt abby’s tongue licking a fat strip up in between your slick folds.

“fuck. tastes so good.” abby groaned, her fingers digging in your ass to push you back against her face.

you were in a daze, spit dribbling down your chin as abby ate you out.

“now. you’re gonna take whatever abby’s gonna give you while i fuck this pretty little mouth of yours, understood?” you nodded, and her thumb left your mouth so her hands would reach her crotch and unzip her jeans. she wasn’t wearing any underwear, just her black strap, which hung low on her hips once she got rid of her pants. you gulped. it was fucking huge. “open up for me, doll.” you complied, moans leaving your throat due to abby’s administrations. she was eating you out like a starved woman, tongue buried in your hole, slurping to every tiny drop you’d give her.

soon enough ellie was sliding down your throat, slowly. “atta girl. nice and deep.” and you tried your best to take it, to not choke and gag. but a harsh deep thrust made you, and ellie couldn’t love it more. “fuck that’s it. choke on my cock, baby.” she groaned. the sight was heavenly.

but you were the one in heaven. abby’s lips were around your clit, sucking, as one of her fingers probed inside your cunt, making you whimper. ellie continued her thrusts down your throat, making spit dribble down your chin towards your breasts. your back was arched in pleasure, your eyes watery. you were so turned on that you knew you wouldn’t last.

abby pushed another finger in, fucking them in and out of you, her thick fingers perfectly hitting your g spot. you were a moaning mess, doe eyes heavy as you stared up at ellie. “fuck. i want to fucking ruin you.” she muttered through gritted teeth, her hips snapping harder. you whimpered, your cunt clenching around abby’s fingers. you were gonna cum.

“you’re gonna cum baby? gonna soak my face?” you nodded around ellie’s cock, moaning. “go ahead, let me see this pretty pussy drip for me.” when her lips went back to your clit sucking, you felt it hit you. your walls squeezed around her fingers as you moaned, tears falling down your cheeks as abby fucked you through it, walls pulsing and soaking her digits in a creamy white that dripped down your seam. she sucked you clean, licking her fingers as she pushed them inside her mouth once you were done.

your ears picked up on the sound of a flyer opening, and your cunt throbbed. your back arched when you felt the tip of her strap gliding through your puffy folds. you whined.

“can’t wait to fuck this pretty pussy, fuck.” she groaned. “gonna fill you up so good baby, gonna stretch you and mold you to my cock.” you nodded around ellie’s dick, whimpering.

“look at her, she’s begging for it.” she chuckled. “you better give it to her, abby.” she didn’t have to say it twice before she was pushing inside of you, all breath leaving your lungs. she was so fucking big.

“that’s it princess, open up for me. taking my cock so good. pussy so hungry for it…” you moaned, trying to relax so you could fit it all inside. you moaned when she finally thrusted herself inside your warm walls, a squelch filling the room along with abby’s grunt. the strap rubbed perfectly her puffy clit.

she pulled out just to thrust inside once again, and your back arched.

“good girl. you’re being such a good girl letting us use you like this…” one of ellie’s hands came down onto your head, slim fingers lacing on your hair.

“pussy so good is swallowing me all up. you like my cock baby? like it?” she groaned, snapping harshly her hips against your ass. you screamed, gagging around ellie’s dick.

they were harshly fucking you now, taking everything they could from you. you were gagging and moaning non stop, your mind feeling dizzy due to the lack of air.

every thrust hit your g spot, one of abby’s hands, that had been gripping your hips hardly enough to leave bruises, coming down in between your thighs to rub at your oversensitive clit. you tried to wiggle your way away from her touch, but her other hand came down onto your ass in a slap. “don’t run away from me.” she ordered and you whimpered. ellie pulled out of your mouth, and since she no longer was grabbing you by your hair, your arms wobbled, letting you fall against the duvet.

“look at you…” she cooed. “used like a fucking toy, hm?” she chuckled. moans spilled from your lips with every one of abby’s thrusts your sore nipples rubbing against the sheets at the strength of the snaps of her hips. “get up. we’re not done with you yet.” she pulled you up by your hair again, abby’s free hand and arm holding you form your stomach to pull you closer against her chest, making her cock slip deeper inside of you. you cried out.

“too much. ‘s too much!” you slurred.

“fuck abby, i can see your cock in her.” ellie moaned, biting down on her lip at the sight of abby’s strap poking through the skin of your stomach in a bulge. ellie’s hand took the place of abby’s against your clit so the blonde could drag you down harder on her dick. she was kissing your fucking cervix.

“i’m so deep in her she can’t even speak.” the other chuckled, groaning and grunting with each snap of her hips against you.

“i’m gonna… i’m gonna cum. i’m cumming.” you cried, fat tears spilling from your watery doe eyes.

“yeah? gonna give us another one, baby?” you nodded, moaning non stop. “of course you are. go ahead, baby. i wanna hear you scream.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your second orgasm of the night hit you. you were drowning on it, screaming, gasping on ellie’s mouth as she hungrily and wetly kissed you. you tried to kiss her back in between cries and moans to no avail, your tongue messily sliding against her own.

“good girl. good. fucking. girl.” abby groaned with each thrust, fucking all your cum out of your cunt.

once you came down from it, you were panting heavily, body completely limp in between abby’s arms.

ellie’s hand surrounded your neck, biting on your bottom lip. “you think you can give me one more, baby? gonna let me fuck you, hm?”

“i can’t cum anymore…” you cried, and she cooed.

“aw… aren’t you cute.” she falsely pouted. “that’s something for me to decide.” you whimpered. oh fuck, why was your clit throbbing again? “here’s what we’re gonna do.” she squeezed your neck, making you gasp. “you’re gonna open your fucking legs for me and take my cock while you eat abby out, hm? i think she deserves a little thank you for fucking you up so good, don’t you think?” you nodded and she smiled. “that’s my girl.” you whined as abby pulled out of you, the emptiness in between your thighs making you shudder and whimper.

“shhhh, don’t worry baby. ellie’s gonna fuck you real good.” she whispered, slightly pushing you so you would lay on your back on the sheets. you watched as she unclasped her strap, showing her blonde mound and shiny lips. your mouth watered. “gonna be good for me and make me cum?” you nodded, and she crept her way up your body until your face stood below and between her thighs. you moaned, shiny eyes glued to her perfect pussy. your hands gripped her strong thighs as you felt ellie’s hands part your own to get in between them.

abby lowered herself on your face, moaning when your tongue came out of your mouth to lick a strip up her clit from her leaking hole. you cried out. fuck. she tasted so good. abby groaned at the way you lapped at her slick, starved. “so fucking needy. you like my pussy baby?” you nodded, humming and moaning against her as you suckled on her clit. one of her hands came down on your hair, gripping it. you pulled away from her when you felt ellie entering you in a harsh and quick thrust, making you scream.

“fuck. she’s so tight…” she grunted. “she’s milking my fucking cock.” she thrusted inside, and you moaned, but abby pulled you back to her cunt.

“come on baby. use that pretty mouth of yours.” she grunted, her hips bucking against your tongue. you flattened it so she could ride your face. “that’s it. stick your tongue out for me. oh fuck.” she moaned.

your mind was fuzzy, your pussy drooling around ellie‘s cock.

your back arched. you were feeling so good. they were fucking you so good.

“my pretty little doll, hm? aren’t you baby?” abby groaned, watching as you sucked on her clit, your moans and whimpers driving her closer to her orgasm. “eating my pussy so good. you love it don’t you? love it that ellie and me are using you to cum like a little toy, huh? of course you do. fuck.” she moaned. your eyes opened, and you almost came at the sight of abby and ellie making out on top of you. the blonde’s head was turned to the side as ellie leaned forwards, hungrily kissing her in between groans and moans. you cried out.

“look at her, she likes it.” ellie chuckled, and abby looked at you, a smirk on her lips.

you moaned, watching as ellie kissed at abby’s neck.

“oh, she loves it.” abby teased you, ellie giving you a specially harsh thrust as her hands grasped at abby’s breasts, her hips slamming against yours, making the wet squelches of your pussy fill the room. “she’s fucking soaked.” she chuckled.

“then let’s give her a good show, hm?” ellie muttered against her lips, and abby harshly kissed her, making ellie moan.

you whimpered, watching as they made out on top of you, abby fucking your face. the kiss was hungry and angry, all tongue and teeth as abby pulled at ellie’s hair, making her fuck you harsher and faster. she was approaching her orgasm.

“i’m close.” abby groaned, snapping her hips harder against your mouth.

“me too, fuck. gonna cum so hard.” she gasped, and you moaned. “seems like she’s gonna cum too.” she smirked.

“you gonna cum, doll? gonna cream ellie’s cock?” you nodded, and abby moaned at the feeling of your nose bumping against your clit, pulling at your hair. “shit. go ahead baby, cum for us.” you moaned, your nails digging on her thighs as your own shook, your cunt pulsing as you came. you felt short of air, falling apart. you were fucking squirting. making a mess of the sheets and her cock.

“gonna fill you up. gonna fill this pussy up, fuck!” ellie groaned in between sloppy thrusts, finally cumming against her strap. abby didn’t take long to cream all over your tongue in a moan, thrusting her hips against your mouth to ride it out.

you were crying of overstimulation as they used you to fuck themselves through it.

when they finally stopped you felt boneless, completely spent. abby pulled away from your mouth, hearing a cry at the loss of ellie’s cock as she too pulled out of your drooling cunt. your cum had stained the bed sheets.

“poor thing. she’s completely fucked out.” ellie cooed, caressing your cheek.

“don’t worry baby. we’ll take care of you.” abby said. your vision was starting to blur, the exhaustion taking over your body. “we’ll always take care of you.” she promised. and with that, you passed out, feeling safe in between the arms of death.

-

a/n; 👻

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Donnie Darko Hcs

A/n: I finally came around to watching Donnie Darko while I was styling my hair this morning. It was so good and omgg HIS CHARACTER!!! Love it 💜 What he voices in where he rebels against authority resonates with me in the most honest and straight up sense, it's crazy.

CW: Characterizing of psychosis without research (I am in no way claiming this is how individuals who suffer some psychosis or with schizophrenic symptoms act or feel like. This is simply a work of fiction and how I see Donnie's mental state affect the scenario), Donnie is actually very tame here except for his obvious criminal record and acts of violence, and YALL HES A MENTALLY ILL TEENAGE BOY so he's a lowkey soft okay. Y'all see him with Gretchen? So caring and passionate ugh, love him sm. <33 I try to write as close to canon as possible, but sometimes that leads to really soft yans and I kind of doubt my writing. Despite that. I like to think that not all yanderes need to be possessive killing machines in order to fit into the troupe. Everyone's got their own way of dealing with obsession, and so I think I did decently with this one lol.

Proof read a few times, so sorry for wordy/run on sentences and possible wonky grammar.

I feel like Donnie is very observant and patient with his darling. He's quite analytical for a teenage boy which leads him to take time to consider the variables that weigh within your possible relationship.

Donnie is still an awkward kid, so dont be surprised when you accidentally find him staring at you for a considerable period of time in class. In school, he doesn't approach you, seeing as the setting is already suffocating enough. He'd try to catch you after school or when you two have a little bit of privacy.

He's kinda shy and clumsy at first glance--- too talkative in his speech and self-aware of his minor fuck ups. Over time, he'll be more open to what he wants with you. Donnie might not really understand how to handle love and all of its complexities, but hell try really hard to make it work.

Yeah, y'all saw how fast he dived in for that kiss in the film?... Embarrassing, but it's true that he's quite excited to show his affection for you. He'll be "so chill with it," and he is to an extent--- not too clingy at all--- but when he's around he gives you guard dog privileges. Stays at your side and defends you from any brain rotting comments made from the guys around the neighborhood. Donnie isn't much of a fighter, but he's damn well capable of planning and executing a crime if it calls for it. One count of arson, another unaccounted for, severe property damage, and murder? Don't doubt it for one second that he won't consider further acts in the future to come.

His psychosis affects him directly when it comes to you--- as it also does with most things. He already feels so shitty with how things are going in his life, Frank voicing the many thoughts he has about you day to day stresses him further. Sometimes Donnie is scared Frank will convince him to hurt you as the countdown progresses. Despite that fear, he can't keep away from you.

This distress causes Donnie to rebel more often. As he spirals down the rabbit hole Frank keeps digging for him, the anxiety that follows with what will happen to you once the world ends lingers late at night in his bed.

Donnie's main love language is quality time. He walks with you from school and chills with you pretty much wherever. He's pretty book-smart, so he'll pitch in with your projects and homework assignments. His parents don't really seem like they care what he does most of the time, so if he's given the chance, he'll crash at your place for a few before they think he's off sleepwalking or some shit.

Donnie already knows he's slipping off the rails, placebo medication or not, Frank stays to stir the pot. He's almost scared, scared to death that you'll think he's an insane lunatic and he'll scare you off. But at the same time, why be scared if it's the truth? He has evidence, the book, and his own visions. That anxiety doesn't go away when he rambles on about the six-foot-tall bunny rabbit and how that thing has led him to the method of time travel.

You're just left there dumb founded as he stares on at you with that deadpanned look. Too late to back out now. World's ending and you don't got a boyfriend. Well, you got Donnie... and Frank's there too sometimes, but either way, you're all each other's got. You don't want to be alone do you? Donnie knows he doesn't.

He trusts you more than anyone else. Yeah he's on meds, and sure he's loony, but everyone knows that already; not that they seemed to care too much anyway. He feels like he can just exist with you around. All that pent up frustration with the looming guilt of his actions festering inside can be washed out like waves on a cold shore. Of course, it's not a cure-all, but it's damn nice compared to the bone headed friends he got and the tense dinner table back at home.

He has scratch paper in his drawers that are just filled with messy sketches of you. Not sure if he'd be the type to use sketchbooks, but he is pretty organized in his own room. Donnie just finds you so easy and beautiful to draw. Art block has nothing on this boy. He hates it when his sisters barge into his room and see any unfinished piece of you lying around. They tease him so bad about it, he wishes they'd just leave him alone.

"Ooo, is this the girl you're always wasting your time with?"

"No, gimme it. It's none of your business, and get out of my room."

"Geez, fine. Not like that's the freakiest thing you got in here anyway."

Donnie wouldn't be the extreme stalking type, but if he caught a glance of you, he wouldn't be able to look away. He'd also take into account what your daily patterns are as well as your likes and dislikes. He notices your little habits like if you constantly apply too much pressure to your mechanical pencil, making your lead break. He's always have had a passive opinion on the school uniform, but you made it look good, great even. Donnie likes it even more seeing you in street wear. He takes note on your style and even thinks of taking some inspiration from it to feel closer to you.

He's sensitive in places a teenager would be in most. He's irritable and closed off much of the time, even to you if it gets bad enough. Of course, it's not your fault usually. It only makes sense to be defensive in the case of anything he may perceive as a threat, even if that means any possibility of you breaking his heart.

Donnie may be a bit shy in his advances, but what he isn't is hesitant. He's quite bold in his thoughts and feelings. While he is afraid of your judgement in particular, he doesn't mind doing many things in front of you. Your collar is crooked, so let him just fix it up real quick. Talk about something that's got him thinking? He's letting his thoughts pour out like it's happy hour. He sees no issue in doing what he wants to, so if you're feeling unsure or nervous about something, he'll be the one to do it for you. Not many questions asked unless it's got his serious attention.

Kisses are passionate and deep. (Tbh when I first watched the movie I was like, "DAMN dont eat her face- shit.") I dont know if Donnie has had previous experience or not, but he's definitely got the enthusiasm. He tries to match your rhythm if you seem to have trouble following. Not too much tongue, but best believe he's devouring your lips like it's the last 6 hours in the universe. His hands are roaming around your body, feeling the dips and curves so cautiously because Jesus, you're just rocking his fucking world. If you tell him to slow down, he will. Donnie never wants to force you to do anything you wouldn't want to.

Words of affirmation aren't really a thing for him. If he says something to you, it was probably on his mind anyway. If you say "I love you" to him, he'd be almost stunned but wouldn't have a problem reciprocating that energy. He just felt like that connection between you two was already clear enough. No need to say it so directly. Although, it's nice. He really loves and cares for you. Would take a bullet for you--- cross his heart till he dies, all that sappy shit.

If you reject him, let's just say Frank and Donnie will be speaking more often. It pushes him off the edge. Frank isn't in Donnie's head just to do evil shit, but it's not like his presence doesn't perpetuate Donnie's behavior further. He wouldn't go on a killing spree or anything excessively violent like that. He'd be hyper-focused on the time travel aspect of his situation and become more forceful in his methods. He'd demand answers to make sense of all of it. To cope with the fact you didn't want him like how he needed you. Why didn't you like him enough? What didn't he do? Actually, what did he do? His mind feels like its on the brink of breaking as he tries to rationalize all the negativity in his life. He's already done too much, his world feels like it's collapsing in on itself before the actual day could even come. You were a majority of that world, and now it's just broken.

Donnie is so distraught and confused about his adolescent experiences, he almost doesn't know what to do. The only thing to do from then on is to focus on the countdown. Time travel, and how to fix it all. Otherwise, not only would he be left alone, but you would be too. Donnie wouldn't want that for you, not ever. Even with all the pain and frustration stowed away inside his still beating heart, he would never wish to hurt you; one of the only people on Earth who didn't suck so much as everyone else did.

[carpkoinobori]

[⟢] cop car — karina x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): cop car - mitski | no te pido mas - helenita vargas | de oro - la familia andre | la murga - willie colón | la cuchilla - las hermanas calle

summary: you grew up desperate and made your way to the top, even started working for DAS. but your first assignment shouldn’t have been this— they sent you to die. your body lived, though. you didnt.

pairing: patrón!karina x halcón!reader (also x teniente!giselle)

tags: angst, like horrible angst, toxic and I mean Very Toxic yuri, major character death, implied sexual content, this is DARK, set in 1970-90’s colombia, kind of ambiguous but happy ending? reader is lowk stupid and a bop

wc: 10.9k

cw: karina is horribly manipulative, cartels, guns, selling, making, and use of drugs, use of weapons, murder, bombs, death, etc. this is about the colombian cartel ok shit is fucked.

ex: before there’s any outrage I AM COLOMBIAN. all information is acquired through primary sources (ex: family who literally lived through it). most info will be accurate, but my family specifically lived in medellín, calí, and barranquilla. this is set in bogotá. apologies for any city-based in accuracies.

a/n: this is for you aettudae my #1 ❤️

1964, Cundinamarca, Colombia Local time: 1:00 A.M. Location: a small town in Soacha, Cundinamarca, Colombia Objective: . . .

You were born on the outskirts of the city. Bogotá, the capital— the inside was rich, used to be filled with tourists, big buildings and fancy cars. The outside was él pueblo, where you’d wake up at three in the morning, walk to the nearest bus stop, which was probably a few kilometers away, take the buses that never ran on time with the rest of the exhausted men and women heading to work— work for rich people that ran the city till nightfall, get on another bus, and walk a few kilometers home, every day, constantly, while getting paid barely enough to support your family.

That was if you didn’t get robbed, or blown up in the middle of the city, of course— political unrest stemming from La Violencia had made FARC, and the cartel had begun to ramp up production and organization, planting car bombs under public buses and cars. The country was rife with bombings and gang violence till the late 90’s.

But right now, it was in the very early morning.

You would be born in 1964 to a poor family living in Soacha, Cundinamarca, Colombia, right on the outskirts of Bogotá. Your mother would be killed in 1970. Your father would be killed en la cantina, at night, in 1972.

You had been working since 12, anyway. Being told of your pathetic father’s death by a police officer who clearly did not care was when it was decided— you would not die in this town. You would make a name for yourself.

You were right, of course. You did make a name for yourself— you took down one of the most prominent cartel leaders in the country.

Or, at least, that’s what the media thought.

LA VERDAD DE LO QUE PASÓ EN 1989. —————————————————————— THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED IN 1989.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:00 P.M. Location: Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad | Administrative Department of Security (DAS) HQ Objective: Enter the meeting

You made it into DAS at 21.

Really, it was probably just because the high-rank workers felt bad for you. They understood— a girl from the outer part near Bogotá, no parents— you just wanted to make the country better for people like you.

You were given small jobs like paperwork and editing documents, until now. They were calling you in for your first meeting. Despite your usually serious nature, you couldn’t help a bubble of excitement. You’d finally be able to help like you’d always wanted.

which is why it was confusing why everyone was so somber when you walked in.

“Good morning,” you greeted, taking a seat.

“Good morning, y/n,” replied the woman who headed the ground-team. All your coworkers around her looked solemn, and you stared at them all puzzled.

“Your first assignment will be to infiltrate a specific branch of the Bogotá cartel— we fear they might be working with either FARC or plan to merge with another faction, and they’re already quite dangerous as it is— we don’t need more of them,”

the room was silent. You knew what this was— your first year on the job with barely any training. They were sending you to die, just to get some information.

You sat up straight, squaring your shoulders. You would get the information to help your people. You would live.

“I understand,” you replied, with a nod, standing to collect your file.

The woman handing it to you leaned in, a pained look in her eyes “Perdón,”

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 10:54 P.M. Location: Una cantina Objective: Scout an in to the “organization”

The woman in charge of the specific section of the widespread cartel that was causing so much destruction frequented a specific bar. You had been given her file— she was beautiful, with dark hair and pale skin, but she didn’t seem to be colombian. It didn’t really matter, to you— you weren’t here to ask her why she’d made these choices— you needed to infiltrate one of the largest cartels in Bogotá, on your first job.

you sighed, your head in your hands, the bartender giving you a cursory glance. The place was seedy, filled with alcoholics and sex-workers, as well as probable cartel members, which is why you were here.

You sat up, looking around. It was said Karina frequented this bar. You prayed she’d show up, making the sign of the cross.

God delivered— she walked in, with two other people you didn’t quite recognize— one had dark hair, as well, with big eyes, although her face was serious. The other was lithe, thin— her hair was shorter, and lighter in color, more similar to a brown.

You knew what you’d have to do to start getting information. It made you feel a little sick— a part of you, though, was grateful Karina was so beautiful. Her smile was cocky and smug, like that of someone who knew she was untouchable. She made conversation with her two accompanies, talking and laughing and drinking. You waited for an hour or so, so that she was now most definitely more than tipsy.

you walked over, wearing a short, tight black dress that let you fit the bill of another profession, looking at her through half lidded eyes.

another thing about the cartel. if they wanted a girl, they’d have her. The club was a dangerous place, the bar was a dangerous place— you’d seen a man get shot at a hamburger cart. The cartel was ruining the country.

you pushed down your sudden wave of resentment, focused on flirting with Karina. Her friend, the long haired girl, stared at you for a long time, scrutinizing. You wouldn’t know what that meant, for a while.

Karina grinned, tilting her head. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t see why not,” you smiled, voice practiced to be smooth and flirty. You didn’t drink, usually, but you needed the courage.

She handed you a shot of aguardiente. It was dry and burned your throat, but it was good. You made conversation. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” You smiled, putting a hand on her arm. “Seems a bit.. dirty,”

Karina smiled, predatorily, teeth glinting in the low yellowed light. “Just trying to relax. You don’t seem like the type of girl to frequent this place. Why are you here?” She asked back.

“Oh, just.. trying to have a little fun,” you replied, lowly, voice ghosting over her ear. She seemed to like that answer.

“Yeah? Why don’t you come home with me, then?”

Your smile widened, although your eyes with still half lidded, touches fleeting. You still played your part.

“I will,”

you ended up going home with Karina. It took months to get her to trust you, but you had finally managed to get her to let you start working. All it took was a sob-story, a fake name, and she allowed you to work in her jurisdiction.

and so began the first objective: names. You needed names.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 4:33 P.M. Location: currently, a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

Karina had a home, of course, a large one— you had seen parts of the inside many a time. Of course, they also had some warehouses where they kept goods, where some of the members could crash for a night. You usually stayed with Karina, following her orders.

Some of the members used fake names. You had managed to catch onto one— Ning Yizhou, or NingNing. It was kind of stupid to put part of your real name in your fake name, but plenty of members didn’t use false names at all. You supposed it was just because they didn’t have much to hide.

The name was quietly recorded into your notebook— in code, of course, specifically pigpen-cipher, although you mixed it in with a few different things, referencing dice code as well to make it more confusing— the members of the organization sometimes forgot to call out their chosen names for each other, slipping up. You didn’t mind, though, it made your life easier.

The group had a whole network across Bogotá, planning to move into Medellín, which you felt was not a good idea, but had said nothing.

at one point, Karina brought you all out to eat at a very nice restaurant. You had become a favorite of sorts, for her. She didn’t suspect a thing, thank god.

They began to make small talk, conversations imbued with remarks about the ‘business’, people causing problems, supply and demand, and those annoying Americans.

the waiter came, and everyone quieted.

”Una cerveza, porfa,” Karina was first.

“Dame un refresco, por favor,” Giselle.

You felt something.. off. Obviously, Giselle wasn’t colombian. None of these four women were. But they all learned Spanish here. None of them really spoke Spanish beforehand. Giselle was speaking very.. correctly. Or, at-least, not using slang from colombia. Had she learned Spanish in Mexico? Castellano? Was she part of another gang?

you hadn’t noticed it was your turn to order with all the thoughts running through your mind. You looked at the waiter, glancing at Giselle.

“Si me haces el favor, una gaseosa,”

Giselle didn’t seem fazed by it. but something was off about her. Something was very, very off.

“Karina,” you called, walking into her office. She seemed to be writing something down. Most likely something about funds or money. She did have people in the banks to clean her money for her, but she didn’t like others running her finances. Too much of a chance for embezzlement. A part of you liked she was smart with her business.

“Winter told me you called for me?” You murmured, leaning against the side of her desk, tilting your head, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, yes,” she affirmed, turning in her chair to you. “I have a job I need you to complete. You’ll be going with Winter,” she informed. “It’s nothing that difficult. You’ll both be going on some runs. It’ll just be delivering a few.. products, to a contact. It’ll be a long drive, maybe a few hours. She’ll come get you at four in the morning, exactly,”

Your face stayed carefully blank, but you plastered a content smile onto it. “Of course, I’m glad to be of any help. Speaking of help, Karina, you seem a little stressed..” you smiled wider, voice imbued with a sultry tone.

Karina was honestly a bit foolish. Smart with money, bad with people. Perfect for you.

She still suspected nothing, you thought, as she kissed you, hungrily.

the night ended with her paperwork left unfinished, and you asleep in her bed.

Winter was probably not going to be happy.

Winter was waiting outside the room for you, arms crossed and leaning on the wall. You had dressed into something casual— just jeans and a shirt. You glanced over at her with a blank expression. “What do we need to deliver?”

She seemed to be thinking, before pushing off the wall, and beginning to walk. You followed.

“Guerrilla wants some weapons. We’re just there to deliver,” she muttered, cigarette hanging half out of her mouth, unlit. You made your way to the car, getting in the passenger, the supplies in the back. “It’ll be a long drive up the mountain. Let’s try not to get stopped, yeah?” She muttered, starting the ignition.

You drove in silence, for a bit. The humidity of the air was starting to get to you. You hated the heat.

Winter didn’t talk to you, much. You didn’t think she liked you. You were pretty sure it was because she believed you weren’t worthy to be in the gang— you were just Karina’s plaything.

you didn’t really care what she thought, though. You had a job to do.

after a few hours, you had made it sufficiently up the mountain to the trade-off point. You stepped out of the car.

It was still foggy, from the rain and the altitude. You almost felt a bit lightheaded— but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The plants and mosquitos were certainly bothersome, but you said nothing. Helping Winter lug up all the weapons was definitely hard— you weren’t very strong. Winter stared at you in annoyance, mumbling curses, most likely about you, under her breath.

the trade off was successful, but then, yet again, you had to make your way down the mountain with duffel bags of money. It was heavy. Putting it away in the trunk was simple enough. You collapsed back into the passenger, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You felt gross.

“Why was that so heavy?” You muttered, under your breath. Winter closed the door of the driver’s side.

“It’s not that heavy, you’re just weak,” she spat, annoyed. “You made us take an extra half hour. You’re not efficient,” she continued.

“It’s hardly my fault, Winter! This was my first job, I don’t-”

“I don’t know why Karina thought it’d be a good idea to let you help, you’re absolutely shit at it,” she retorted, acidly. “The only thing you’re good at is being her whore,” she cursed, as a snide closing remark.

You turned to her as she drove. You may be making sacrifices to get information, but Winter had no idea what you were working towards. It was an insult to your pride. Yet, you couldn’t think of a retort.

“I’ll work harder,” you muttered. “I want to be useful,”

she scoffed, but at least you said you’d try. She still didn’t like you, though. “Face it, sweetheart,” she began. “You’re not cut out for this life,”

When you arrived back to the warehouse, Ningning spotted Winter before you. You were taking some of the bags out, but could still here from the inside.

“Kim Minjeong! What took you so long?” She chided.

Winter rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Quiet down, Ning. Karina’s toy isn’t supposed to know our names until she proves herself. And anyway, she’s nearly useless. She’s the reason I took longer,”

you obviously pretended not to hear as you hauled money bags inside.

Two names down. Two to go.

Giselle and Karina were two harder to find out then the other two. You were sure with enough time, Karina would tell you her real name. She seemed on the verge of it, anyway, with how much she wanted to hear it fall from your lips.

Giselle, though.. you had no contact with her. She was always off, managing distribution or making sure people stayed in line. You never saw her around much.

but slowly, you began to become part of the group. You mostly helped on small runs, with either Winter or Ning. Ning didn’t really care what name you called her, writing it off as semantics that didn’t matter. Winter, of course, took herself very seriously, so you continued to have to address her formally. She was such a pain, but honestly, you didn’t mind much.

what you had to focus on now, most of all, was getting Karina to trust you.

that came in the form of another run. Although this time, it went so, so wrong.

You were meant to drop off a shipment near Medellín. You didn’t think anything would happen, really— the mountains were a bit far out from Bogotá, and it was closer to the border anyway.

You had been given a gun. It was handed to you by Ning a few weeks prior, under the orders of Karina. You knew how to use one, and no one asked why.

the drive there was mostly silent. Winter still wasn’t very warm to you, yet, she didn’t hate you. You had begun to earn your place, and she respected the effort, if anything.

You drove, and the closer you got to the warehouse, the more dread washed into your bones. “Winter,” you called, under your breath. “I think we’re being watched,”

“We’ve been down this route a million times, y/n. We’re fine, no one would-”

a gunshot rang out through the silence.

It missed Winter by a centimeter, hitting the windshield. You cursed the fact these jeeps didn’t have roofs or side-door windows. Minjeong sped up, of course— if she braked they’d fire again. It was all a blur, from there. You got out of the car, your back against the corrugated metal of the drop off point’s doors. You stared around you, pointing at an old building. “There, Winter- it’s a-”

“Snipers,” she finished, eyes wide with panic. “Hijueputa! I fucking knew we should’ve stayed away from Medellín-”

“No fucking time for that, Winter, get down-”

bullets cut through the air. You dragged Winter behind the Jeep’s metal body, looking over it and shooting wherever the bullets rained from.

there was maybe three people, four, even. Winter focused on the right, you focused on the left. You only had a pistol on you, but luckily you had enough rounds. You aimed straight at one man’s head— it was a straight shot, and you saw the blood spew out from his forehead. It was a mess of blood and bits of brain as far as you could see, his body slumping over the sandbags where he was hiding. They turned red, quickly.

You peeked over the jeep, again, about to shoot the second man on the left when—

a sharp pain was felt in your right shoulder. The force of it sent you nearly falling back, but you caught yourself. You looked straight ahead.

the sniper.

You were panicking and filled with adrenaline— you set the gun on the other man, watching him rise slowly, and—

straight into the neck, blood rushed out of the wound, and you heard a disgusting gargling noise. Blood, in some areas, was highly pressurized— it would shoot out like a fountain.

Winter had managed to shoot the sniper, finally, which was a miracle considering the distance. Right now, you didn’t care about the logistics of how, all you knew was that this was a trap. More people were coming. “Winter, we have to go,” you demanded, looking over at her.

She was bleeding from her thigh and side. Fucking hell.

you shoved her into the passenger seat, ignoring the warmth you could feel trickling down your shoulder, the way it hurt to move your arm. You started the car, and drove straight out of there. You drove as fast as you could, making it back in just around two hours and a half. You had tied your jacket around Winter’s leg, and her own around her side, the other girl groaning in pain throughout the ride. “Ya, Winter, cállate!” You spat, stressed and frazzled. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be okay-” you continued, clenching your jaw to not scream from the burning in your shoulder.

When you made it back, you stumbled out of the car, glass shards all over the hood, opening the doors. “Ning,” you called, knowing she’d always be near, most likely cleaning some blood after an interrogation or packing some coke. “Ning, it was a trap- help, please, Winter got shot,” you continued, calling out desperately. Ning appeared a few seconds after, eyes wide, rushing to the car. She helped Winter inside, laying her on the couch. She had lost a bit of blood, but the bullet hadn’t hit a major artery. You knew the bullet shouldn’t have hit her heart, either. Ning looked at you, seriously. “Go get Karina. And Giselle,”

you did as told.

you rushed to Karina’s office, the older woman looking at you with a bored expression, gaze lingering on your shoulder.

She didn’t ask any questions, just raised an eyebrow. “It was a trap,” you replied, panting, ignoring your own bleeding shoulder. “Winter.. she needs- she needs a hospital,”

Karina looked unsurprised. “Oh, yes,” she replied, holding your gaze. “How unfortunate of an event,”

Her words were.. slow. Almost mocking or sarcastic— you didn’t have time to decipher what they meant. She brushed past you, making her way to Winter, calmly

“Ning, how bad is it?” She questioned, leaning over the other girl’s body. There was no hint of worry or concern on her face, just curiosity.

“Not fatal, but serious. It didn’t hit the femoral artery, but I suspect it either fracture or grazed her femur. For the side wound, I don’t think it hit anything major, maybe a rib, but no organs. Even so, she needs medical attention now, Karina— speaking of, where is Giselle?” She continued, exasperated and stressed.

“She should be on her way. She was coming back from a job, already. She should be here soon,” was Karina’s nonchalant reply.

you decided that she couldn’t really be waited on, and Karina was clearly unhelpful.

“Do you guys have an operating table? You know what— get me a table. Just get me a table,” you demanded, reaching for some surgical gloves.

They laid Winter on the table, turning on all the lights. You positioned a lamp right over her, and stared at the bullet wounds.

there were only 2. You could do this, you had been taught first aid. This couldn’t be that hard.

You began to clean the wounds with running alcohol and cotton balls, trying to wipe away the blood that wouldn’t stop, and clean the wounds. You had grabbed a pair of tweezers, planning on just yanking out the bullet yourself when Giselle slammed the doors open, staring at the scene in shock.

“What the fuck are you all doing?” She shrieked, rushing over and moving you away. “Do you have any surgical training at all? You could kill her!” She exclaimed.

“Well, you weren’t exactly coming very quickly,” you retorted, now insulted. “I’m sure it’s not that hard to remove a bullet, just take it out-”

“Are you an idiot?” She exclaimed, shocked. “Get out of the way, this is why I’m here. I’ll deal with this,”

she pushed you away, putting on her own pair of blue surgical gloves, and a mask. She moved the lamp to the wound on Winter’s chest, inspecting it. She took hold of the tweezers, cleaning the wound once again with an alcohol wipe— but there was no time for painkillers. She extracted the bullet carefully, holding Winter down so she wouldn’t squirm and hurt herself, followed by her stitching up the wound. It took around twenty minutes for the bullet hole to be stitched up.

she repeated the same process with the second, before cleaning the wounds, again, and beginning to wrap them with gauze. Winter looked pale, and in pain, but she tried to show no sign of it on her face. Once Giselle finished with her, she turned over to you.

“Sit,” she instructed, voice flat and providing no room for judgement.

Karina had shrugged, disappearing back to her office, while Ning had left to go help Winter, leaving you alone with Giselle. She removed your shirt, unclipping your bra with practiced ease, and inspecting the wound. It had started to really hurt, now, the adrenaline having worn off.

“Don’t you have painkillers?” You asked, petulantly.

“No,” she muttered back. “You can handle it. You’re part of a gang, now, there’s going to be pain,” she reminded, harshly.

She cleaned the wound with alcohol, a hiss leaving your mouth at the sting. Your breath hitched when the tweezers made their way into the wound on your shoulder, clenching your jaw in pain. Giselle looked at you, coldly. “Don’t scream,” were her final words before she removed the bullet, cleanly, in one piece.

you gasped in pain, breathing heavily as the wound began to bleed again. Giselle held your other shoulder, keeping you in place as she sewed it shut, cleaning it again, and wrapping it with gauze. “Fuck,” you hissed, wincing at the sting of alcohol.

“Stop squirming,” she growled, and it made you sit still, albeit breathing hard and cursing under your breath. She handed you two pills— painkillers— and a glass of water, after the fact.

“Don’t take baths, you’ll reopen the wound, make sure to shower. Someone will have to help you redress the wound and make sure it doesn’t get infected. Karina isn’t good with wounds, and Ning will handle Winter. I’ll keep an eye on you myself,” she muttered, and it felt more like a threat than anything.

you took the pills, drinking the water to wash them down.

you glanced over to her.

“What are you, a doctor?” You asked, curious albeit a bit sarcastic.

“Yes, technically, I am,” she responded back, flatly. “Worked in el campo for my residency, saw the Guerrilla, saw the way people were living— got into this business, just as it started. That’s all,” she finished, succinctly.

you felt like the story was too practiced. Too simple. You began to suspect that something was off with Giselle— something most definitely was. The way she was never with the rest of the group, her detachment, her strange accent— she was suspicious, and it occurred to you that if you could reveal whatever it was, you’d secure yourself a spot in the gang and officially cement your place, as well as weakening the structure and trust of the organization. It was perfect. This was a great chance, an amazing opportunity. You were sure to take it.

That is, of course, if everything went according to plan.

(It never did)

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina had something to do with this. She seemed so dismissive, so.. unimpressed. What was it? Why was she so cold?

You sat at the edge of Winter’s bed, the other girl listening to your ramblings and theories half-heartedly, dazed. Ning was leaning against the wall, the both of you speaking lowly, so as to not be heard.

“She was testing you,” Ningning informed, after mulling on it for a bit.

“What?” You blinked, the words like a shock to your system. “She sent one of her men— along with the newest recruit— into a trap, with only two pistols against a sniper and three other men, all to test.. no, why would she do that? She wouldn’t endanger her own members,” you dismissed, shaking your head.

“She would,” Ning informed, flatly. “Karina’s our boss, yes, we respect her. But she didn’t get to where she is by playing nice,” she reminded. “Karina will do whatever she has to do to ensure her business, first and foremost. That is what is the most important to her. Plus, the government has been far too close to us, lately,” Ning scoffed, shaking her head with her arms crossed. “She’s probably become more careful— which isn’t good if you’re new. You’re probably in for it,” The dark haired girl guessed, meeting your gaze. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we got dragged into it, too. We’re disposable. Just pawns in this game,” she continued, pushing off the wall and reaching the door, hand resting on the handle. “But I hope you make it out,” she added. “You’ve been helpful,” was her final compliment, before she exited.

You stared at your hands. You had thought— genuinely— that Karina was kind, maybe misunderstood. You really thought you were smarter than her.

you now realized that Karina was extremely intelligent. She didn’t care what sacrifices had to be made— she’d protect what was hers, what she’d built. Worst of all, she might even know you were an informant already, she might just be playing with you.

you had walked right into the lion’s den, without even knowing. All the while, you thought you were one step ahead, that you were in control.

your head fell to your hands, a choked sob leaving your body.

you were going to die here.

Every single one of you was going to die here.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 6:25 P.M. Location: currently, a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

it had been a week since the incident. Winter had given you her real name— Kim Minjeong. Why? She said you had earned it, after saving her life.

Things had been tense, to say the least. Ning was considerably angry with Karina, which the older girl did not like. Giselle had been speaking to Karina more often, yet, she was also out the same amount of time.

Minjeong had told you that there had been talk of working more closely with the guerrilla, and that information worried you. The guerrilla was already enough trouble on its own— with the resources from the cartel, it’d be a horrible force for the government.

It was early November, already, and Giselle had seemed beyond tense, pacing whenever you caught a glimpse of her in her room, always thinking to herself, it seemed.

she was changing your bandages, now, a distant look on her face. The movements were practiced, almost like she was working on autopilot.

“Hey,” you called. “Giselle,”

“What?” She responded, flatly. “What is it?”

“Why do you seem so mad lately?” Was your question. She kept a blank, annoyed look on her face. She continued to clean your wound, but eventually responded. “Nothing. Just some negotiations that have been going in circles for days, now. Don’t worry about it,” she dismissed, stepping back once she had finished, moving to get some gauze.

“Really?” You hummed. “Anything to do with the guerrilla?”

Giselle stared, clenching her jaw. She began to bandage you, but spoke lowly. “Don’t talk about them. You have no idea what they’re like. You shouldn’t know any of this, anyway. I’m sure Karina wouldn’t like that,” she added, dangerously.

After the events that transpired on your last run, you had grown wary of Karina. You tried not to make it obvious, but everyone could tell, and the girl delighted in it. She loved the power and control, of course. Her smile was unsettling.

you quieted, after that comment. Giselle finished bandaging you, stepping away. “Stay out of things that don’t concern you,” she advised, but took a second to add something on. “Don’t worry too much. I don’t think she’ll kill you,” Giselle paused, a smile blooming on her face, “Yet,” she added, walking out.

Not very comforting in the slightest, but you should figure out what you could while you were here. You sighed, laying back on the bed.

Giselle was definitely lying about something— you just needed to find out what.

The guerrilla had led a siege on el Palacio de Justicia. It lasted two days, with many deaths. You saw the current news on it, even contacted your people in DAS about it— they had strictly warned you not to unless information was found, but those were your people. They could’ve died.

Giselle watched the news over your shoulder, or listened to it while she fixed your bandages. Minjeong had been getting better, too, her leg much better. Ning watched as well, her arms crossed.

Karina didn’t comment on it. Almost like she knew it would happen.

a suspicious amount of money was given to the guerilla by Karina a few weeks prior. You felt a shudder run through you, which Giselle responded to with a bark of “Stop squirming”.

later, Karina called you into her office.

“Y/n,” she smiled, tilting her head. “You seem.. on edge. May I ask why?” She was being overly formal, and it unsettled you.

“Ever since the attack, I keep feeling like it’ll happen again,” you began, rambling— it wasn’t a lie, per se, but it wasn’t the whole truth. The fear in your eyes and shakiness of your movement confirmed that, at least, it was partially true. “Im scared, that they’ll come here, and kill us. I don’t know what to do,”

Karina’s smile stayed in place, as she ushered you to sit down on the couch, there. “Don’t worry, corazón,” she assured, a hand running through your hair. You began to relax— maybe she wasn’t so scary, after all— It was understandable, maybe it wasn’t actually a test, maybe-

“As long as you’re loyal, nothing bad will happen to you,” she continued, hand tightening in your hair. “If you were to sell us out, then, you understand. I couldn’t promise your protection,” her hand strengthening its grip on your hair, speaking into your ear.

“Now, why don’t we get your mind off it?” She offered, looking into your eyes with a faux-sweet expression.

you complied, obviously. Despite the fear, there was a part of you that was drawn to her. She was threatening to kill you if you betrayed her, yet, you still kissed her, desperately.

she kissed back, of course, hungrily and heatedly.

That’s how most of the both of your talks ended, anyway.

1986, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 12:01 AM Location: una discoteca Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

It was 1986, now— had just turned into the new year. You were at a club, celebrating another year alive.

You had no idea where the other three girls went, thoroughly tipsy and entranced with Karina.

Karina was a bad person, you knew this. She was ruthless, and you should be scared of her.

but right now, with her hands on your hips, in the flashing lights of the club, you couldn’t quite remember that.

The two of you stumbled into the quieter, back parts of the club where there were rooms. Karina knew this place better than you, anyway.

it was still loud, and you could barely hear anything. She pressed you against the wall, tugging your hair, beginning to suck and bite at your neck.

she was most definitely drunk, you could tell by the flush to her face and how her words were looser than normal.

You knew you should’ve taken advantage of this, but you couldn’t. Your body felt hot, and instead of finding information, like you should have, you fell right back into Karina like a rat to a glue-trap.

you were pathetic.

and you knew it.

1986, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:23 AM Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

Karina had called you into her office, except this time, Giselle was there.

You were beyond exhausted, but did not complain.

They were both intimidating. Giselle was staring at you, coldly, arms crossed, while Karina had an amused expression on her face, grinning, head tilted into her hand.

“Y/n, I have a job for you,” she called, in a cheery voice.

“It shouldn’t be too hard, but you’ll be working with Giselle from now on. It’ll be good for you,” she continued, standing up and walking towards you. “She’ll keep you safe— won’t you, Gigi?” She asked, almost mockingly, a saccharine expression in her face.

“You’ll have a body by the end of the day. That’s all you want her for, anyway,” Giselle retorted, irritated.

“How great! Come now, y/n, Giselle will explain,” Karina beckoned, quite happy today. Some expansion into the U.S. had gone well, you knew that much, but there was no reason she should be so.. animated.

Karina handed you a semiautomatic pistol, which you stared down at. She then smiled, handing you a small box of bullets. She still kept a smile on her face, remarking, “You know, these are special. They’re hollow point bullets— Ningning made them,”

“What? She made them?” You knew of hollow-point bullets, they weren’t a secret, just uncommon.

“Drill a hole into them, cut an X to make some petals, and there you have it— well, I’d ask Ningning, of course, I’m not a weapons specialist. It’s quite easy,”

“But why? They don’t-”

“Effectiveness. They leave a bigger exit wound, and leave shrapnel inside the body at times,” Giselle interrupted. “In other words, pain. They’re used to inflict pain,”

Karina smiled, sadistic as ever, as she watched Giselle load some rifles.

“Today, we have a few hits to get done,” Giselle informed. “You’ll be coming with me. You know how to shoot a rifle?” She asked, glancing over at your horrified expression.

“No, I-”

“What about a pistol?”

You nodded.

“Perfect!” Karina exclaimed. “You can help with the interrogation, then. Giselle, I’ll meet you at the location. Try not to dirty her too much, hm?” Karina advised, slinking away.

“That’s why she’s so happy?” You asked, in shock. “Because-”

“Because she gets to kill someone? Yeah, that’s why. She’s sick in the head. You knew what you were getting into,”

you stared at Giselle in silence. The other girl was grabbing some sniper-rifle that you had never seen before, and several rounds of ammunition.

she loaded it into the car, and you two began the drive.

you held the pistol in your hands shakily, silent for most of the ride.

once you got to the location, you watched Giselle pray. You had heard of hitmen praying before their job, and you still couldn’t understand. They prayed to God to protect them, yet, they were about to take a life.

“Why are you praying?” You asked, suddenly, acidly. “We’re about to kill people, God wouldn’t-”

“It’s my job,” she interrupted, which was a common occurrence with Giselle. “It’s my job, and I’m just asking Him to keep me alive until it’s over,” she spat, coolly. “You don’t know what I’ve had to do. But you will, soon. So just shut up, will you?” She got out of the car, slamming the door shut. You scrambled after her, and the both of you hauled the equipment up the boarded-up, run-down building, up several flights of stairs, finally beginning to set it up after a few stories, looking down at a busy road.

“Why are we killing him?” You murmured your question, watching as Giselle began to adjust the rifle.

“He owes Karina money, and he won’t pay it. He also stole some of our goods and has been cutting pure cocaine with some other shit, I didn’t really care enough to figure out what. His other friend is the one we’ll be interrogating. He’ll die no matter what he says,” Giselle shrugged, watching the empty street, the morning finally coming through the sky, although the dark, clouded sky blocked the bright sun.

“How long will we be here?”

“However long it takes,”

It turns out that “however long it takes” meant almost eight hours. You were bored to death, yet still terrified. You were about to kill someone. And you had been here, waiting on edge for it to happen, for almost eight hours. You felt like you were going to burst into tears.

“Giselle, how much longer is this gonna take?” You complained, although a bit shaky.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here either,” she drawled. “But he should be here, soon. He works near here,”

It took maybe another half hour before he appeared. Giselle saw him before you did, obviously— you didn’t even know what he looked like— but she didn’t immediately shoot. Her eyes stared down at him through the scope, her fingers brushing against the trigger. He was wide open, walking slowly without a car in the world. He stopped for a second, someone crossing in front of him—

click.

you heard the gun go off before you looked down.

Giselle had shot him perfectly in the side of the head. You couldn’t see a lot, obviously, you were pretty high up, but you saw enough.

his body crumpled to the ground, immediately, blood pooling around him. People screamed, cars stopped, and they all were looking around frantically trying to find the shooter. Giselle moved the gun and herself away from the window, to the side where they weren’t visible.

“Come on, hurry up— we gotta go,” she urged.

“Hold on, won’t they see us step out of the building? Isn’t this a bad idea?”

“They won’t catch us, there’s too much chaos going down there. Now come on, let’s go,”

The drive to the warehouse was relatively silent.

Giselle was tense, but that wasn’t new. She always was. But she seemed almost.. solemn. Quiet.

you both arrived, stepping out of the car, into the meeting point. Giselle had her own pistol, you also kept yours on hand.

when you entered, there was a man tied there. Giselle tensed when she saw him, but said nothing. You figured it was because of Karina, standing behind him with the same placid, content smile. It was eerie.

“Giselle, Y/n! You’ve made it,” she smiled. “I take it the job went well?”

“It was all fine,” Giselle replied. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened,”

“That’s great, really, it’s good! I’m quite happy today, Y/n, because we have a special guest. I know I said he owed me money— in a way he does— but this is something far more important. He works with the Americans! Isn’t that just amazing?” She continued, happily, waving her gun around in the air as she spoke. “I’m sure we’ll get some good information out of him,”

“So, the both of you, come! Let’s begin,” Karina gestured to the man, in the dim lights.

you figured, well— the show must go on.

The man was tied to a chair, that much was obvious. The floor was concrete, and there were boarded up windows and maybe one or two hanging lightbulbs. It was a bit dark.

the walls were steel, corrugated iron, and it gave a prison-like feel. the man was looking around, wildly, straining against his restraints.

“Hey,” Karina called, walking closer to him.

“You’re going to tell me everything there is to know about those Americans, okay? And then I’ll let you go. As long as you don’t lie,” she assured, pausing. “Now talk,” she demanded.

“They’ve noticed the supply into their country. They’re working on stopping it. They’ve already sent a few agents to infiltrate a few different parts of the cartel—”

“Which ones?” Was her sharp, quick reply.

“Medellín, primarily, but they’ve been looking to Bogotá. I don’t know much more than that, I don’t even know who the agents are, I-”

“Ning!” Karina barked, the dark haired girl appearing out of the dark. She held a pistol in her hand, jaw clenched, staring up at Karina.. defiantly, almost. “Won’t you be a dear and deal with him, for me?”

Ning glanced to the man. His eyes widened, and he began to thrash. “No! I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t know any agents! I don’t know anything!” He pleaded, desperately. Ning looked away, aiming the gun.

You heard a whispered ‘I’m sorry’, and she made the shot.

Through the head, perfectly center. Ning placed a hand over her mouth, the smell of blood biting and metallic, letting out a choked sob.

Karina looked over at Ning. “Now, Ning-ie, there’s a bus waiting for you outside. You’ll take that back to our meeting point, won’t you? So you won’t get caught?”

Ning nodded, wiping her eyes of tears. She went over to Giselle, they exchanged some words, hugged— she came over to you.

“Y/n.. I’m sorry. There’s no way to get you out, now. Be careful, don’t.. don’t trust anyone, don’t- just.. be careful, okay?” she advised, lowly, hugging you, still crying faintly.

“Ning, what- I don’t understand, why’re you acting like this?”

“You’ll tell Minjeong I’ll miss her, right? I wanted to say goodbye, properly, but.. I didn’t have time. I left a note,” she added, slipping it into your pocket inconspicuously, pulling away from the hug. “Give it to her, for me. You were fun to be around, I’ll miss you too. Don’t lose yourself, stay focused. It was nice to know you, y/n,”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her- I’ll give it to her- Ning, why are you acting like this? What’s going on?”

Ning smiled, laughing wetly, still crying. “You’ll find out, later. You’ll find out..”

Karina walked Ning out of the warehouse. You and Giselle trailed behind, still a few paces away. The bus was parked right outside, filled with people.

Karina hugged Ning, whispered something to her which made Ning clench her fists and cry harder— you don’t know from what.

Ning got on the bus with a smile, crying— though you still didn’t know why— and waved goodbye.

You looked to Giselle, confused, watching the bus continue on, further down the street, already maybe a mile or two away from you. “What was that abou-”

your ears rang. You heard it before it registered.

the bus had exploded.

there was carnage, everywhere. Parts of it had been thrown into different buildings. There were body parts strewn across the street, a crater in the asphalt, fire, along the metal— cars had been crushed, it was now chaos in the streets. You had almost been pushed back from the force, nicking yourself with the small, sharp pieces of metal. Karina was still standing, her suit dusty and filled with ash.

“Karina, what- what did you do?” you cried, confused and distraught yet again, feeling the tears build in your eyes.

Karina cooed, crouching down over you, thumbing the skin under your eye. “Oh, mi amor, don’t cry,” she reassured. “Ning was working with the Americans. The man in the warehouse knew, and was helping her sneak information along our supply chain! Don’t worry, the traitor is gone,” she ran a hand through your now dirty hair, cleaning a cut on your face with her finger. She smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, speaking lowly into your ear.

“I’m tired of these Americans trying to ruin my business. They keep putting themselves where they don’t belong. Don’t worry, mi cielo, you’ll be safe as long as you’re loyal to me, and as long as you listen. I know you will. Because you’re trustworthy, aren’t you?” She smiled, looking down at you.

you nodded, dazed. Karina had just killed Ning. Ning was dead. You had to get out of here. You figured hundreds were injured. You had to leave.

Giselle was even farther back, looking at Karina with contempt.

you didn’t notice, though. You were too busy watching the flames dance in the street.

1987, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 9:46 P.M Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

it had been almost a year since the incident.

ever since Ning died, things had been different. Minjeong had been quieter, and angrier. Everything set her off, she came back covered in blood most of the time. You didn’t want to ask where she’d been— you’d just sit with her, quietly. Sometimes you heard her cry at night.

Giselle had been even more cagey, always out, defensive, on high-alert constantly.

and Karina.. well, you’d been spending a lot of time with Karina. You knew she was bad, you did, but there was something about her. It was just something about her, something that drew you in, and you hated yourself for it.

like right now. You were in her office, again, as she kissed you hungrily, hands gripping your hips in a bruising grasp.

your mind drifted. You reported back to DAS every so often, but you did inform them that you had to be very careful, that your reports would be sporadic. Truthfully, they didn’t event think you’d make it this far, do they were okay with waiting. They seemed to have several informants, anyway.

”y/n,” Karina growled, lowly, sucking and biting harshly at your neck. “You seem distracted. Focus on me, no? You promised you’d help me..” she murmured, almost a pleading sound to her voice. You weren’t stupid, though. Karina didn’t beg, she didn’t plead. This was mocking. You sucked it up, though.

you tried to focus on her, you did, but everything was beginning to get to you. DAS weighed heavily on your mind, and Minjeong’s grief did, too, and Giselle’s odd behavior, her accent, even the way she dressed— she didn’t seem like she was from here. She didn’t seem like she’d been her a long while.

“Y/n,” Karina snapped, annoyed. “Focus, will you? Or maybe you’ll end up like that bastard traitor,” she remarked, acidly, far too much emotion for the situation. Karina had been angrier lately, too. It must be the stress of the betrayal. Surely that’s why— it shook her to her core that there was a rat in her ranks. She had gotten paranoid.

the mention of Ning made you emotional, though. You felt tears prick at your eyes.

she looked down, and let out a laugh. “Oh, I love when you cry, baby,” she grinned, voice rough. “It makes you look so good. But not right now.. maybe in a bit. Stop being such a pussy,” she instructed, to which you nodded shakily.

and like that is how your work went, for a bit.

it wasn’t until late 1988 everything began to change.

Karina had been busy, lately. A lot of men came to her office, ones you didn't recognize and some you did, vaguely, from other meetings.

Karina had been overtly paranoid about informants— It was a miracle she hadn't discovered you, yet— or maybe she had. Maybe she was just waiting for the right time, playing with you, maybe-

"Y/n!" She called, in a sing-song tone.

You entered her office, quietly.

"I need your help for another job. A big one. If you do this, then it'll officially make you a part of us! Isn't that fantastic, baby?"

Karina had her hands on your hips, the same practiced smile she always wore on her face.

"Yes.. fantastic, it really is," you replied, in a murmur. "But what will I be doing?"

"You know the DAS building, here, in Bogotá? Well, amor, we'll be getting rid of it,"

"rid of it?" You tried to school your expression, but the shock and horror was plainly visible on your face. You felt sick.

"Rid of it. As in, you know— the building. I have a few ways to make sure it stays gone for quite a while. It’ll take nearly a year, I predict, but it’ll get done. You’ll be going to a few meetings with Giselle and me to make sure you can help. Is that okay, y/n?” She asked, in a faux-concerned tone. You both knew she wasn’t asking whether or not you’d do it, you had to. It was a rhetorical question. You would say yes, either way.

“Yes. It’s.. it’s fine,” you murmured.

“Good. Now, you can go. I’m sure there’s something for you to do to make yourself useful around here,”

MEETING ONE 1988, Medellín, Colombia Local time: 4:52 P.M. Location: a small town up in the mountains; el campo Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

Driving with Giselle was really not a good time. The songs on the radio were good, though.

the other girl was so frustrated, for some reason.

“Giselle,” you chanced. “I don’t mean to pry, but seriously— why are you so.. stressed?”

“We’re about to blow up Colombia’s national security headquarters, I think anyone would be stressed,”

You eyed her, not quite convinced.

“You know, anytime we carry out a job you’re so on edge,” you commented. she whipped her head around, knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

“Are you accusing me of something, y/l/n?”

“No,” you replied, slowly. “Not at all,”

the meeting took place up in the mountains.

the negotiations were mostly handled by Giselle, but she looked nearly ready to scream.

“We’re paying you what you’ve asked, just give us the supply,” she repeated, voice low.

“I think it’s fair to ask for a little more, linda,”

Giselle was seething. Honestly, these men had rifles, machine guns— you weren’t about to fight them. you took out your pistol.

you pointed it right at the 500kg of dynamite.

“Take the money,” you instructed, eyes wide. You looked crazed, most likely.

they stared at you.

“I said take the FUCKING MONEY! You think I won’t do it? We can add on 130,000 more pesos, but that’s it.”

They agreed.

Giselle was silent, in the car drive. You stared at your hands.

“You would’ve done it,” she murmured.

“I would have,” you agreed, and it came with a sick sense of realization. You would have killed everyone in there, including yourself. You would have done it. Who were you? What had you become?

Giselle laughed, one of the only times you had ever seen her show a positive emotion.

“Oh, God,” she snickered. “You really didn’t think when you signed up for this, huh?” She commented. Your eyes widened, but you schooled them back into place.

no, she couldn’t mean what you thought. She couldn’t.

“Careful, baby,” she hummed. “You don’t wanna become something you can’t come back from,”

well, that’s fucking ominous.

Your next meeting was scheduled in the following weeks. You felt like Giselle was.. watching you. Her gaze never left you, but whenever you looked back, she was always just staring out a window, or at something on the wall. It was unnerving.

The second meeting went smoothly, but ended late. Giselle was driving once again, smoking.

“Do you have another?” You asked, suddenly, glancing at her against the dark backdrop of the night.

“Another what?” She questioned, looking over at you for only a moment, before focusing on the old, pot-hole filled road again.

“A cigarette. And a light,” you clarified, holding out a hand.

“I have a cigarette,” she confirmed, handing you one. “But no light. Sorry,” she shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

“Oh, fuck off Giselle. Just light it with yours,”

She rolled her eyes. “Why should I? Don’t you have a lighter?”

“I didn’t bring my lighter, I didn’t think I needed it,” you shot back.

She sighed, annoyed, but complying. She kept one hand on the wheel, barely glancing at the road, lit cigarette half in her mouth, being held in place by her hand. You kept your own firmly between your lips, not wanting it to fall.

she pressed the lit end to your own, eyes dark, and you couldn’t help but stare into them.

the end finally caught a spark, lighting up, and you both stared for a second more before breaking away.

You took a long drag, averting your eyes from her gaze, glad the dark of the night would hide your blush.

“Thanks,” you muttered, gazing out into the fields.

“Don’t mention it,”

MEETING THREE 1988, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:31 A.M. Location: Karina’s office Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

It happened so very late, and you struggled to stay awake. You felt your eyes closing, but Giselle would push you, and you’d spring back up.

Karina was arguing with a man about the price of the job. She was aggravated, he wasn’t taking the accepted offer.

The meeting had started off very casual— she even offered him some of their supply. You didn’t take any, neither did Giselle, but Karina and the man each did a line, snorting it off the table.

You watched the cross that hung from her neck dangle along the table, occasionally tapping the wood. The other man wore one as well, as did Giselle, as did you— you felt just a bit guilty about it. Hopefully, He’d forgive you for your wrongdoings. Hitmen prayed to God and so did drug lords— as did nuns, priests, politicians— all prayed, all believed. At least, most did. They claimed so.

You were shaken from your thoughts by a loud crash. Karina had pushed the man against the wall, yelling, now— “¡Me estás sacando la piedra!”

Giselle never said anything like that. Come to think of it, she cursed under her breath, you weren’t even sure what language it was. you shouldn’t be thinking of Giselle, though, not when this man seemed like he would die. That shook you out of your stationary position.

you jumped up, rushing towards her. “Karina! Karina, let him go!” You demanded, trying to pull her off. Giselle followed suit, prying her off him. Karina was panting, she looked crazed. Blood trickled out of her nose, and you wondered how much of her supply she was doing.

“You don’t understand,” she growled, clutching her desk. “Just take the money,” she began, again, and the man finally nodded. She practically threw the money at him, watching as he scrambled out. She let out a frustrated sound, slamming her hands on the desk.

“Giselle, get out. Y/n. Stay,” she demanded, not turning around.

Giselle hesitated, for a moment, it was barely noticeable.

but she left.

Karina turned to you, and like so many times before— you were truly, deeply scared. And yet..

you fell right back into her, letting her kiss you, use you, until she was fine again.

1989, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 3:13 A.M. Location: An old, unused road in the mountainside Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

The meetings happened in quick succession. They took place all throughout the rest of 1988, and into early 1989. It wasn’t until September that things really began to change.

Minjeong was always out. She avoided Karina, and only spoke with Giselle sparsely.

You and Giselle were in the car, currently. The final meeting had just occurred, and the both of you had gotten tired of driving.

you were both just sitting there, with the car off. Giselle spoke, suddenly.

“How do you do it?” She questioned. “How do you put up with her?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Karina. I just.. sometimes, she’s too much. Especially lately. She’s paranoid,”

“I don’t know, I just-” you couldn’t say it was because it was your job. You couldn’t say it was because a part of you wanted her. You weren’t sure how to even reply to that. “I just do,”

Giselle seemed like she wanted to say something, but she closed her mouth. It was silent till she spoke again. “I don’t understand you. I mean, you’re like me, but.. you’re just so.. different— naive,”

“I am not naive!” You protested, even though you knew very well you were.

“Yes you are! I know you’re- I-” she wasn’t being very coherent, aggravated, fingers flexing like she was antsy.

“I’m what? What am I? Just spit it out, Giselle! I’m tired of-”

She cut you off, kissing you. You were surprised, for a moment, but quickly reciprocated. Her fingers curled in your hair, pulling you closer. You braced yourself on the dash, trying not to touch the wheel or anything else that could move the car.

“You’re so fucking infuriating,” Giselle muttered, pulling you into the backseat with her. “You just have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

You panted, now slightly confused. “What?”

“Nevermind,” she groaned, pulling you closer once again.

She pulled you onto her lap, and you snaked your hands into her hair, tugging at it, blunt nails scratching at her scalp.

You didn’t really feel bad about it, is what you’d realize later, when you were driving back in silence.

You kind of wanted her to do it again.

You and Giselle didn’t talk about anything that had happened. Partly because you didn’t want to, and partly because you feared what Karina would do if she found out. The weeks leading up to what you found to be a tragedy were tense. Minjeong was out more often than not, as was Giselle. You couldn’t warn anyone, because Karina had such a close eye on you, lately. She just wouldn’t leave you alone.

December came quicker than you would wish.

It was night when you heard Minjeong speaking to Karina.

“Jimin, you can’t do this,” she murmured, lowly, voice laced with an unseen anger.

“Why are you so tense, Minjeong? I thought you always agreed with me..” she sighed, and you could hear her walking through the thin walls.

“I can’t let you kill so many people, it’s just- it’s insane! You’re being irrational— you’ve snorted half of your own fucking supply!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Karina— Jimin, you’ve learned— spat, and the unmistakable sound of a slap resounded through the warehouse, Karina breathing hard. You heard a struggle, and panting. “I’ll kill you, Minjeong, don’t think I won’t. I’ve kept you around out of pity— and of course, you’ve always been so obedient. Why are you so hellbent on rebelling now?” She whined, in a mocking manner.

“You killed Ningning— how am I supposed to be loyal to someone who kills her own men?” Minjeong replied, voice breathy, as if she couldn’t breathe.

There was silence.

“You’ll learn. Now, leave here. If you argue against me again, I’ll feed you to the wolves,” Jimin growled, and the sound of Minjeong hitting the floor was heard all throughout the warehouse. “Get out of my sight,”

1989, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 11:13 A.M. Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

Karina was, and always will be, a mystery.

you had found out now that Karina’s name was Yu Jimin. You had asked Minjeong, shortly after what happened. You went to sleep, and awoke to the sound of the radio, blaring.

“El edificio del Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad ha sido bombardeado.”

you woke up with a start. You knew it’d happen. But there was a sense of true hatred, in that moment.

you walked out of your room.

you walked into Karina’s office.

“Yu Jimin,”

she whipped around, smile morphing into a frown in seconds.

“How do you know that name?”

“Minjeong,”

She saw the gun in your hand.

“Oh, won’t you put that down?”

You stared at her.

She smiled, then.

“You know, I knew you worked for them,” she began, nonchalantly.

“What?”

all that work, all that secrecy— it meant nothing, in the end? She knew, she always knew?

“I saw you searching for our names. You were just so.. you seemed like you’d work for the government. And then I found that little phone you had! It’s been disconnected for years. They haven’t received a single message,”

You stared, still, dumbfounded. Suddenly, this made it all the worse. She did this, forced you to help— knowing? You raised the pistol.

“Giselle,” Karina called, and the other girl appeared a few seconds later. She stared at the scene in front of her, looking between the two of you.

“Get rid of her for me, will you?” Karina dismissed, shrugging off the threat.

Giselle slowly took out her own gun. She pointed it at you, and yet—

“Yu Jimin, you’re under arrest for drug trafficking, terrorism, murder, smuggling, and-”

“What? What are you talking about?” Her eyes widened, as she shot up to her feet, gripping at her desk.

“My name is Aeri Uchinaga. I work for the FBI-”

“It was you!” She shrieked, nearly mad. “You were the mole? But you- you’ve killed in my name! Won’t you be implicit?”

“I’ll be pardoned by the state, most likely,” she informed.

it all made sense now. The strange accent, the tray she was so tense, constantly— you were a bit proud of yourself for noticing all the off things about her, but now was not the time.

you stared at Karina. You wanted to shoot her.

“She could leave,” you pointed out.

Giselle glanced over at you. “She could,”

you aimed at her leg. Just a bit off from the major artery in the thigh.

a click.

The aftermath was severe. The building was destroyed, most of your department had dissolved. Minjeong was working with the police, you had found out— although you hadn’t heard from her since the arresting.

you weren’t sure what to do, anymore. You had dedicated so much to this— and it was all for nothing. Essentially, you had failed.

You were currently living with Aeri, actually. You were a valuable witness— you had seen and done things that would hopefully be able to incriminate Karina, more than all the other records there was of her actions.

Aeri wasn’t as mean as she had been. She was actually quite quiet— but not mean. You two spoke about it. A lot had happened, and you both lived through it. You could relate to each other.

it would take time, though.

1993, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 11:13 A.M. Location: Washington, D.C. Objective: . . .

It had been 4 years since Yu Jimin had been arrested. She was facing many, many charges— although you tried not to keep up with the news. There was to much going on.

currently, you were with Aeri. You and Aeri had gotten much closer in the following years— how could you not? You spent almost every waking moment together.

Aeri had some work to do, so you were waiting. It was quite simple, really.

You had been offered a position, here— in D.C. You’d work on other jobs, similar to this, but far more investigative. It sounded.. good. You’d like to help people, thats alway’s something you’ve wanted.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by Aeri.

“Hey,” she called, to get your attention. “Let’s go, they’ve got some questions to ask you before you can get hired. You know how government jobs are,” she shrugged, leading you down a winding hallway.

“Yeah,” you replied, your hand in hers. “They kind of suck,”

“They do,” she agreed, with a sigh. “They kind of do,”

A/N: I HATE HOW THIS CAME OUT 😭😭 it took me so long but it’s done. I kind of just wanted to get it over with. I don’t have much to say, honestly I might delete this. I had a good idea for it but just couldn’t find the words to execute it. sorry </3 expect a better work soon. I’m hoping to finish up some less heavy ideas before returning to my cold war AU. In any case, asks are appreciated, and I’m open to requests! thank you for reading this mess </3 also aeri being endgame is payback for you (aettudae) making her married to a man in honeycomb. that should be ME.

EXTRA: when you read ‘mi amor’ keep in mind I’m imagining to pronounced like one word, so more like ‘mia-mor’. ‘mia’ kind of sounds like ‘mya’. this will make sense to spanish speakers.

[heartgold]

(incest, csa, suicide cw)

umineko is full of complicated and fucked up parent/child dynamics, so the way kumasawa and genji were like the parent figures sayo always wished she could have and then turned out to be the people who hurt her with the most intent often flies under the radar. but I'm constantly thinking about it.

they never saw her as more than an extension of her biological mother and a way to personally atone for failing her... by ultimately failing her daughter too and in very similar ways. kumasawa incentivised young sayo's beatrice roleplay and taught her magic bc "it was like it was meant to be". in kumasawa's eyes, it was as if beatrice's daughter unknowingly shared a connection to her mother thanks to the whims of fate. but to sayo, the magic she was taught became an intrinsic part of her identity, her primary way to cope and to find some confidence in the face of the hardships she was going through. of course the idea of no longer being 'yasu', the clumsy servant mocked by everyone, but rather the powerful witch beatrice who inspires their respect became so important to her! but then as she learned later, she spent all her life playing the part of her dead mother who was horribly abused (and whose abuse was enabled and covered up by sayo's parent figures!) and by then she had all but absorbed her as part of her identity and sense of self, all while being secretly primed to ultimately play her part and finally "become" her in genji's bullshit redemption arc plan for kinzo. kumasawa knew everything and intentionally encouraged this while sayo had no idea. it's no wonder beatrice went from being something empowering to sayo to the cruel voice tormenting her in her head, reminding her of her worst thoughts. beatrice became an embodiment of trauma! not just sayo's trauma but also her mother's, which she took upon herself. all of the people who knew the truth manipulated her into walking the path of becoming her mother and saw her as nothing but that. a replacement, a vessel for the "true" beatrice. the very same idea behind her mother's grooming and abuse.

the cruel irony here is how all of this was done to prove a point about kinzo not repeating his actions and to relieve his guilt in time before his death, with genji/kumasawa/nanjo celebrating kinzo being "successfully redeemed" by not raping his daughter again... all while sayo comes out of this horrific situation terribly sexually traumatized regardless. all at once, she learns the depth of violation she suffered from some of the few people she thought were on her side. the way she was manipulated and gaslit all her life about the circumstances of her birth, her parentage, her body, her entire identity and personhood. how they were willing to risk her safety by making her work under kinzo to prove that he wouldn't sexually abuse her. the shock of learning what happened to the mother she was unknowingly raised to become, and how those people did nothing to help her back then either. how her mother, too, was groomed into playing the role of her own mother for kinzo!!! the horror doesn't end. the traumatic impact and consequences of all of this on her life were never in their minds, only making sure sayo would play her role in granting kinzo a peaceful death. putting kinzo's guilt to rest was always the priority, and by trying to prove he wouldn't repeat the past, they did so themselves by dooming another beatrice into becoming a vessel for her mother and shouldering generations worth of trauma.

there's this metaphor in umineko about the powerlessness of children before their parents and how many are born to fulfill a specific purpose for them, becoming an extension of their parents who project on their children and try to shape them into a specific kind of person to successfully play a role. having a child is compared to creating a fictional character which is compared to inserting a piece of yourself on a gameboard. this goes for every parent/child dynamic in the story including allegorical ones such as bern/erika, and of course this reflects the way the only people sayo could call her parent figures shaped her into an accessory in her father's narrative. she was always their means to achieve that, not even a person in the grand scheme of things. a piece of their own creation, shaped and molded into a role, without autonomy of her own. furniture in every meaning of the word in sayo's personal lexicon.

it hurts how she trusted them and even made fantasy versions of them to include them in her world! she wanted them to be part of it and that's a precious thing to her! and then turns out the characters she created were much better people than their human vessels. even more encouragement to reject reality altogether and immerse herself even deeper in a rabbithole of fantasy to cope with her real life being almost unsurvivable after nonstop betrayal and hurt!

the nail in the coffin is, after doing all of... That out of his fucked up sense of loyalty to kinzo, genji goes on to enable and help out with sayo's mass murder-suicide plan... as his way to atone for how much suffering he caused her? the results of his actions were a major driving force in her suicidality and furniture complex among all the many factors pushing her into a corner, and then he reasons that agreeing to help her kill herself along with literally everyone and providing her with the means to do it is the correct thing to do for her??? genji's undying sense of duty and loyalty is truly his worst and most terrifying quality. he'll stop at nothing to honor it.

[diamond-rozie]

regular boy: daniel wayne

masterlist/link to ao3

summary:

“Reporting live from Gotham City!” The reporter spoke “Here at the scene of the crime where Dr. Collin Kilye, renowned geneticist, has shot himself and has been declared dead by the paramedics. Dr. Kilye is suspected to be responsible for the purposeful switching of newborns between families under his care, where an estimated over 500 babies have been swapped in the last 20 years of his employment here. Based on the information provided to the Gotham PD by Nightwing and Batman, the vigilantes investigating the crime, we are led to believe that Nightwing has been investigating this case after an anonymous tipoff of Dr. Kilye’s suspicious activities. After a month and a half of investigating, Nightwing reason to believe the Dr. Kilye of malpractice and came to his office to investigate-” - Dick had learned that people never know a situation as well as they assume they did. Dick had always assumed that he wouldn’t be one of those people. He was a detective, a Bat, the first Robin. The case file in front of him glared tauntingly. Danny Fenton; Birth Parents: Bruce Wayne (father) and Clarissa King (mother). Status: Alive

chapter 01: breaking news

tw/cw: mentions of infant death and fictional medical procedures

dick: 25 jason: 20 danny: 16 tim: 16 steph: 17 cass: 15 duke: 17 damian: 13

Danny sighed, stepping through the front door and into the empty living room not bothering to turn on the lights and tossed his hoodie onto a nearby sofa. Normally Jazz would have berated him for being messy, or maybe Mom would have nagged about Danny being older and needing to clean up after himself. But Jazz was off studying neurology at Harvard. And his parents had gotten an “an amazingly irrefutable offer, Danno” to work at Dalv Co. under their new ecto-technologies sector, that partnered closely with the GIW. So they were usually busy with that. 

Not that Danny wasn’t glad to have time apart from his parents. After what Danny only referred to as The Chicago Incident, he could barely stand being in the same room with them. Danny kept quiet about what happened. He hadn't told anyone, not Sam or Tuck or Val or Wes and especially not Jazz. He couldn’t. He’d only managed to survive thanks to the timely aid of Fright Knight and Firebolt (a ghost friend he made when he was stuck in the Ghost Zone during the GIW’s six-month Martial Law lockdown- but that was a story for another time). 

Leaving his shoes somewhere by the door, Danny made his way into the kitchen, perusing through the remnants of edible material. The equipment in the basement would have been collecting dust if Danny hadn’t taken his liberties with it. Apart from his newfound and unbounded freedom that he regarded with gratitude, Danny even began dabbling in cooking real people food. And it was definitely because he wanted to and not because he was sick of microwavable food, Jazz. 

With Danny’s rendition of chicken alfredo ready, he ate in front of the TV. He flipped through a few channels before just landing back on the news. He half-listened to the anchor telling him about the incoming weather front before the screen abruptly changed, flashing a bright red Breaking News sign for a moment before panning over to a lady in front of what looked like a crime scene. 

“I’m Jenifer Blair, reporting live from West Gotham City with Z News!” The reporter spoke urgently over the loud sounds of police and ambulance sirens in the background. “Here at the scene of the crime where Dr. Collin Kilye, renowned geneticist, and lead researcher at West Gotham General Hospital, has shot himself and has been declared dead by the paramedics. Dr. Kilye is suspected to be responsible for the purposeful switching of newborns of families under his care. It is estimated that over 500 babies have been swapped in the last 20 years of his employment here. Based on the information provided to the Gotham PD by Nightwing and Batman, the vigilantes investigating the crime, we have been told that Nightwing has been investigating this case after an anonymous tipoff of Dr. Kilye’s suspicious activities. After a reported month and a half of investigating, Nightwing had reason to suspect Dr. Kilye of malpractice and came to his office to investigate where--”

The sudden sound of his phone ringing brought Danny back to his living room. “Hey, Tuck,” Danny answered, lowering the volume of the TV. 

“Danny! Dude! Have you seen the news story of Batman and Nightwing’s recent bust?” Tucker asked, his voice radiating fanboy excitement. 

“Wasn’t it mostly just Nightwing?” Danny raised an eyebrow at his friend, even though he couldn’t see it. “Batman showed up later.” 

“Yeah, well, Batman and Nightwing-”

“Nightwing and Batman.”

“Okay, whatever- but isn’t this totally insane? It’s like Parent Trap- but illegal.”

“That’s not what happens in Parent Trap.” Danny pointed out for the sole purpose of being annoying. 

“It’s the essence, Danny!” Tucker groaned. Danny could practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone. “We’re still on for the new Doom game tonight?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. The others come by yet?” Danny put his plate in the sink. 

“I’m adding them to the call.” 

On the third ring, “‘Sup Fenton ‘n Foley. Ready to get your nonexistent butts handed to you?” Val goaded, already hyped for their game. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I have a very nice butt. And Danny’s isn’t anything to scoff at either-” Tucker snapped only to be cut off by Danny.

“Okay! Thanks for the defense, Tuck.” Danny stepped in quickly before the conversation took a turn he did not want to witness. 

--- 

Dick was alone in the BatCave, working out the final details of his case before sending it off to be released publicly. In all of Dick’s years as Robin to Nightwing, this case was easily one of the most disastrous to the general public. Given that it was his case, Dick wanted to make sure it went smoothly. Or as smoothly as telling a family their child isn’t biologically theirs can go. 

Sorting through the files and pairing up the families with the correct child was relatively easy, thanks to the incredible details Dr. Kilye stored in his files. If the circumstances were different, Dick would have been amazed at how much data the doctor managed to keep collecting for 568 different subjects of his experiment. Silently praising himself for having already made his way through about half the files, Dick stretched his neck as he clicked the View Next button. 

In his line of work, Dick had learned that people never know a person or situation as well as they thought they did. Dick had been confident he wouldn’t be one of those people. He was a detective, a Bat, the first Robin. He knew better than to assume anything. The file that showed up next was chilling proof that he was wrong. For a Bat, the past never stayed in the past. 

File Number: 6678

Date of Birth: 12 February 20XX

Name: Thomas Wayne Jr 

Assigned Mother: Clarissa King (missing) 

Assigned Father: Bruce Wayne (alive)  

Biological Mother: Madeline Fenton (alive) 

Biological Father: Jack Fenton (alive) 

Medical Conditions: 

Malformations of the heart and lungs

Unidentified chemicals present in blood test

Updates and Notes: 

Deceased on 23 February 20XX (11 days old)

The memories he managed to keep buried for years seized Dick’s senses, and he was back in the hospital waiting room at age 9. None of the others had known about the time Bruce and Thalia had tried to work things out and had given having a family together a try. No LoA business. No Bat or JLA. Just regular(ish) people in a regular(ish) family. 

It had gone well for the months before Talia had become pregnant. Even most of the pregnancy had gone smoothly. Dick got to be in an actual family again after the death of his parents. They had dinner together. Talked about their day. Watched movies together.

But then Talia had gotten sick, and the baby ended up coming out a little early. The doctors had told them it was normal and that the baby would probably still be healthy. So Alfred sat in the waiting room with a nervous Dick, excited to meet his first-ever little brother. He’d always wanted a little brother. Bruce came to the waiting room after making Dick and Alfred wait forever and told them they could come in now. Talia, under the alias Clarissa King, was asleep when they entered. 

Bruce had told them the doctors had taken Thomas to get cleaned and do a few check-ups. Dick remembered the anxious but excited look on Bruce’s face as he kept glancing at the door, ready to pounce the second the doctor would come back with Dick’s new baby brother. 

Except that never happened. 

When the doctor came back into the room, he had a clipboard in his hand, not a baby. The Doctor told them to follow him, and they went inside a room with a bunch of machines in it, and in the middle of the room was Dick’s baby brother.

The baby was mostly bald, but he had little bits of black hair on his head, like Bruce and Talia. Dick wondered what color eyes the baby would have. Talia had green eyes, but Bruce and Dick had blue eyes. Alfred had said the baby needed a lot of rest and that’s why he was sleeping so much. Dick would be a good big brother and wait patiently until his baby brother woke up. 

But the baby had to stay in the hospital for 10 whole days since Bruce had told Dick that his brother was really sick. Dick would check the nursery to make sure it was ready for his brother before Alfred would take him to the hospital to visit. Dick’s baby brother hadn’t been awake any of those days and Dick never got to find out what color his eyes were. 

On the eleventh day, they didn’t go to visit. When Dick asked Alfred why, the butler had walked him to the patch of loose dirt in the backyard marked with a little piece of rock with his brother’s name on it. 

Dick had seen that type of rock with his parent’s name on it before. 

It meant that he was gone, and Dick would never get to see him again. 

When Bruce had introduced Jason Todd and said he would stay with them in the manor, that was the first time Dick had truly ever been betrayed by Bruce. 

Jason wasn’t his brother. Thomas was. But Thomas wasn’t here. Jason may get to say he was Bruce’s son too, but he didn’t get to know about Thomas. 

Not letting his childhood tears deter him from his new goal, Dick quickly found the associated file. Dick’s heart pounded in his chest while his breath was still stuck somewhere in his throat, 

File Number: 77563

Date of Birth: 12 February 20XX

Name: Daniel Fenton 

Assigned Mother: Madeline Fenton (alive) 

Assigned Father: Jack Fenton (alive) 

Biological Mother: Clarissa King (missing) 

Biological Father: Bruce Wayne (alive)  

Medical Conditions: 

Normal Birth

Age 12: Electrocuted 

Hospitalized for 24 hours. 

Developed Acute Bradycardia 

No follow-up medical procedures 

Updates and Notes: 

Prefers “Danny” 

Dick looked over the file again and again. His baby brother was alive. He had come back. 

Should he tell Bruce? Obviously, that was a dumb question. How should he tell Bruce? 

Well, Richard Grayson was nothing if not tactful. He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, pulled up both files next to each other on the large screen of the Bat Computer, snapped a picture, and clicked send. Bruce was supposed to be having dinner with some important business people or whatnot, so Dick decided he should flee the scene before the Big Bad Bat found him, not wanting to know what his wrath would bestow on him. Heaven forbid, Bruce might even talk about emotions.

He closed all the files, stored them in a flash drive, and wiped them from the computer. After all, this was his case, and he’d be the one to see it through. Dick was right in front of the elevator when the doors opened to reveal Tim.

“You’re done?” Tim asked, raising a suspicious brow.

“I have a flight to catch.” Dick said, “I need to pack.”

“Is it for a case?” Tim asked, putting his phone in his pocket. 

“Yeah. Be the bestest brother ever and cover for me?” Dick pleaded, flashing his signature smile.

“Why should I?” He huffed already a few feet away from where Dick stayed. 

With a smirk, “‘Cause you don’t want Bruce to know what taking the Batmobile out for a ‘joyride’ was really for,” Dick said with a smirk. 

Tim turned around, alarmed. “Fine, I’ll cover. But you better not tell.” Tim hissed at him.

“Scout’s Honor.” Dick winked before catching the elevator. 

“You weren’t even a Scout.” He heard Tim complain before the doors fully shut. 

Three hours later, Dick landed in Chicago, Illinois and hailed a cab to take him the rest of the 1-and-a-half-hour drive to Amity Park. Where Thomas  Daniel Danny lived. Dick hadn’t exactly planned this whole excursion through, which wasn’t very trained-by-Batman of him. But Dick knew how to do things by the nose when he needed to. 

He had used the time in the plane to finish the rest of the files, which he completed quickly with his ultimatum in mind. Dick purposely ignored every notification vibrating in his pocket knowing he would be facing the wrath of either Tim or Bruce. 

But now he was sitting in a car for one-and-a-half hours with nothing to look out for except the darkness of the night and a relatively empty road. He opened his phone to 56 messages and missed calls. He scrolled through the groupchat, ignoring it when it was just talking about regular stuff. Next, he opened his messages from Tim. 

Timbers: Dick.

Timbers: what did you do?????

Timbers: when you said cover I thought you meant for patrol or smt 

Timbers: not whatever beef Bruce apparently has with you??

Timbers: I demand compensation!!!

Timbers: [1 video]

Dick opened the video Tim sent him. It was 90 seconds of security camera feed from right above the elevator. Bruce’s hair was disturbed from his usual well-done look he kept for business meetings and his tie was undone. He stormed towards the Bat Computer where Tim was doing whatever Tim does on the computer. Despite being dressed in business attire, Dick could practically see the flurrying of the Batman cape behind him as he walked. Bruce whipped the chair Tim sat on around to face him so fast that Tim nearly fell off. 

‘Where’s Dick?’ The camera was a bit far but still picked up Bruce’s echoing voice. To Dick’s surprise, and seemingly Tim’s as well, Bruce didn’t seem mad. Disgruntled, alarmed, slipping from sanity? Yes. Genuinely angry? Not quite. It made Dick feel a little guilty. Only a little, though.

‘I dunno,’ Tim said, still reeling from the surprise attack. 

Bruce pushed Tim’s chair away from the computer, scavenging through the files, no doubt looking for the files on Thomas and Danny. Unfortunately for Bruce, every single one of those files was secure in Dick’s jacket pocket. Bruce would come to realize that soon enough, as he took a shaky breath and stepped away from the screen.

The video ended. 

That explained the 12 missed calls from Bruce. Dick debated calling him back. No doubt Bruce would ask for an explanation. An explanation he still has yet to come up with. 

Deciding this was a problem for future Dick, present Dick decided he would let himself doze off for the rest of the cab ride to his destination.

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  1 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here Please respond to this post if you want to be added to the tag list for upates!

The crisp smell of autumn was something you missed about the small neighborhood you grew up in. Pieces of golden yellow, burnt orange, and honey-brown leaves scattered over the gray cobblestone walk, making it look like a beautiful quilt. The street felt warm as afternoon crept up to greet you after a whole morning of heavy grocery shopping and last-minute errands.

And…your dad needed to go to confession.

You didn't have an understanding relationship with religion. You felt tense as you stood in front of the church from your childhood, a relatively small building with arched windows that probably had more than one glass shard smashed by a local kid.

"How is Father Thomas anyway?" You found yourself asking. The memory of your mother on her deathbed flooded your head. Your mom had her problems, and she was stricken with her faith even in her dying moments. And when you had asked the priest if she could be saved, he had reassured you that she was already in the arms of God. 

"Why is he taking her?" You had asked, feeling powerless and exhausted, hugging yourself tightly in an attempt to hold back all of the anxiety and sadness.

Father Thomas had given you, at the time, the most religious bull crap you've ever heard in your frustration. "God never condemns the innocent to suffer. Even if God seems to have turned His back on her...He was actually just loving her enough not to let her get away with it."

That didn't answer your question. It sounded like comfort. But how many people found peace after drunkenly crashing her car and injuring another man in the process?

You should've kept your mouth shut.

"Father Thomas left." Your father told you, yanking you out of your memories and into the chilling Fall breeze. "Father Sylus took over a year ago."

You frowned and took a deep breath, nodding. "Have fun, then. If you need anything, I'll be in the car."

"You coming in?" Your dad pushed his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker.

"No," You replied firmly. "I don't have anything to confess." You had plenty of secrets, none of which you ever intended to discuss, especially not with some out-of-touch priest whose homilies preached forgiveness even as he judged his parishioners - another Father Thomas clone. "Besides, what do you have to confess? Piss off the neighbors again?"

He ignored your sarcasm. "You can come if you want."

After your mother's death, it had become clear that all she ever had was religious guilt. And when you thought about it now, nothing made sense. What part of God's divine plan included drunk driving, death, divorce, depression, drugs, or illness? 

But you couldn't ignore that pull, the way those ornate doors called to you from an insatiable hunger inside yourself. Like the secrets only whispered within the walls of the church. The whisper of your mother telling you just to suck it up and go in.

"Yeah, sure," you forced a smile. You could glimpse something you have missed in the structure before , maybe . For the past few years, you had been trying to spot miracles and tried to find an explanation as to why your mother had died before your eyes that wasn't backwashed with the usual sentiment. 

When you walked through the doors, you paused. It was like time and life had stopped. This chapel gave off an eerily peaceful feeling. With thick wooden pillars reaching up and gently hugging the ceiling, you remembered what it felt like to truly be a child of God—just for a moment, anyway.

Your eyes fell on the apse hosting the Marian shrine, surrounded by candles, many already lit. You recall every candle you lit for your mother, first praying to let her be well, to let her set down the bottle. Then, you prayed harder as she lay in the hospital. You lit a piece of your soul afire with every wick.

And all of it amounted to nothing. Ashes only. Like your mother, sitting in an urn on top of the mantle of your childhood home.

Along the back wall trailed the line of bored parishioners waiting for their turn to confess. You take your spot at the back of the line with your father, settling into the familiar routines of the sacraments.

As the line moves, crawling slowly along the back wall of the nave, you scroll through your phone, or at least start to.

So much of this place reminds you of Father Thomas — the smell of incense, the sound of muffled coughs echoing off the vaulted ceiling, the tinkling sound of the baptismal font in the entryway. 

But there is a presence here that feels nothing like Father Thomas. 

Was it appropriate to compare the new priest to the old one?

This new person sat behind the wooden barrier, shrouded in darkness. Something about him arrested your attention. Your phone sits, ignored, in your hand. 

You know he is the person who would wait for the words you speak in confession, without judgment, and to whom you had no obligation until the moment you would open your mouth. 

"Forgive me Father , for I have sinned. It's been three years since my last confession," you spoke in a quiet, solemn tone. You didn't believe that much had changed since you moved away. Well, except for the one thing that happened - but there was no way you were going to tell him that.

Unbidden memories came to mind. Memories of steamy nights tucked away in hotels, illicit meetings that you knew were wrong because he belonged to someone else already, but you just couldn't resist…

No. You couldn't tell him about that. You were far too ashamed. No, you had to think of something else to say. Anything else to say. 

Tilting your head towards the floor, you lowered your eyes, fighting back any self-loathing emotions in your mind. For a long time, you told yourself that life happened, and in the meantime, there were other things to experience besides faith. 

You had almost forgotten how this all worked and what was supposed to happen next. You heard a shift, the sound of wood creaking. 

"Tell me your sins." The voice of the new priest was soft and smooth, in a way that made the hairs on your arms stand. Father Thomas had never sounded like him, ever reminded anyone what they were supposed to do during confession. In the deep recesses of your mind, you felt there was something unsettlingly familiar about that tone, that cadence. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to bring up literally anything else that could be considered a sin. "I - I told my dad he was an asshole this week." 

Was there really nothing else you could tell him? It felt like a lost cause. He would most likely repeat some bible verse you already knew and admonish you for 'sinning' as much as you had while also claiming the salvation of heaven was all yours for the taking. But that was your burden to shoulder and not his. 

"Why did you call him an asshole?" 

"Sorry?" You weren't sure what was happening. Confession was a place of absolution, a place to listen, not encourage further action or rationale. At least that's how Father Thomas always - 

"Why did you call your father an asshole?" The question was asked again, a little louder as if you hadn't heard it. The more you thought about the question, the less you could discern its intent. Was he looking for something you didn't know?

"Uh, he forgot to pick me up from the airport." You sighed, but the conversation didn't end there. When you paused, you heard him shift again. If you had to guess, he nodded in that kind of stiff way priests do. He probably did it every time you stopped talking, even when there wasn't any vocal confirmation or cue. 

"How long did you wait?" 

"Two hours." You quickly said, trying to imagine a face to match the voice, failing to identify even a bit of the man behind the screen. "I almost got hit by some guy's truck." Another pause made you think back to that moment at the airport when you had gotten so frustrated at your father on the phone. "When Dad finally showed up, he said the fees for the parking garage were too high and made me walk to his car." 

Perhaps this Father Sylus was a lunatic, clearly used to the rich and holy roller types that confessed to him daily. Perhaps his interest in your story would wane. Instead of offering any indication that he cared, he only shifted again. 

When he finally spoke again, his voice soothed any anger brewing. "The Lord teaches us that before we judge others, we should measure ourselves - Proverbs 28:13. 'Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.' Three Hail Marys and 1 Our Father. And apologize to your father."

You found yourself unsure of how to respond before bowing your head again, "Thank you, Father."  

[karmesean]

GGUHHHH I DID IT AGAIN. malicious ghosts taking over Sec shenanigans

Gold Edition! ⭐️

⚠️ SLIGHT CW: fictional body horror, possession ⚠️

i think the ghosts and sec meet as close to the precipice of life and death as possible. orchid when she was sick, gold when she was being taken apart. second is constantly walking the line.

Orchid (Purple's Parent) The Dark Lord

link to masterpost

[concretejunglefm]

I'm still stuck on English omens thanks to @xmads-omensx and obsessively listening to Sam Fender so I have decided to pick songs from each album to go with each member + Matt. Enjoy my incoherent rambles.

To preface everything is purely fictional backstory wise to fit with both the musical narrative and just whatever I want.

CW: mentions of death, drug use, alcohol addiction, grief, cheating, all the fun stuff.

Dead Boys + The Dying Light + Two People + Leave Fast + Wild Long Lie all boys. the curse cycle of living in a small town, of growing up where the deaths of your peers never made anyone question what was really going on behind the scenes. where you find yourself falling into the same cycle as your parents regardless of how much you fight against it. where you want and keep wanting to get out, where you make the promise to and when you finally make it, you end up coming back anyway.

Getting Started baby boy folio who only ever wanted to do his best for his mam, who knew that things at home weren't easy with his parents financial struggles and used his own initiative to find himself a job. maybe it wasn't the most legitimate but it got him the money he needed quickly and helped with the on going stress at home. even after moving out and moving in with his best friend, matt, he still continues to do his best to take care of them.

Alright matt who went from one of the guys who was introduced into british drinking culture far too young, to becoming sober and into the man who owns his own boozer. okay, he doesn't own it but you don't have to acknowledge that. he as good as does because the old geezer who used to run it can't any longer.

The Borders best friends since childhood, nick and noah, never saw one without the other. known to be the local troublemakers but really they were just a couple of lads who found themselves in precarious circumstances by accident. they both had big dreams of leaving this small town, but something about the north of england keeps pulling them back, no matter how far either try to run, whether solo or together (or away from each other).

Pretending That Your Dead i called it out and said "with my best friend?" matt's girlfriend who thought that she could get away with hooking up with folio behind his back, or maybe there was more to it than that? they broke up and she happened to move on with him? either way it's a mess, especially for their friendship.

Seventeen Going Under the anger never left him, noah might look like he's come out from his complicated childhood as someone with a cooler head, but it still lingers beneath the surface. from weekends scrapping with some of the local lads to spending his weekends playing at the local boozer, matt's boozer, he's a lot different from the teen most remember him as.

That Sound swedish exchange student jolly, who was working on his masters degree, found himself being unexpectedly drawn to stay in the north. after passing by a student bar and hearing the makings of a band in the form of nick and noah, he eventually befriended the pair and moved into their tiny two bedroom flat.

Saturday at this point nick is just working for saturday, for when he's going to be able to leave his regular weekday job behind to perform at the next open night offered to him and noah, because they're still trying. he's even made an attempt at designing merch for the regulars who always cheer them on.

Arms Length. noah who struggles with allowing anyone close to him but somehow you manage to. somehow you know him better than anyone else and how, how do you do that? nothing terrifies him more than the prospect of love, of there being someone who not only loves him, but has the possibility to hurt him. it's the vulnerability he fears and he's not ready for it, no matter what his mouth is saying, he's a liar.

Angel In Lothian nick who saw more than his fair share of bad things as a kid, whether it was in the neighborhood he grew up in, or stories he heard from his peers. he never forgets being the middle child and watching the effects of his family's circumstances on his elder brother and how that influenced his desire and need to protect, and became what made him pull a young noah under his arm, because even if they couldn't get out of this town, they could face everything together.

Homesick (honorary mention) naturally jolly misses home, there are plenty of times he has even considered returning back to sweden, but now he has a whole life here and friends, how could he ever leave? more than that his dreams are finally ones he can feel slowly coming true with the help of his new found family.

[i-am-beckyu]

And the phone keeps ringing and ringing and ringing....

FIRST FIC OF THE NEW YEAR LETS GO!!!!!! Okay so firstly, this fic has gone full circle. It started as a fake fic title from me to @guppybubbles which she made a prompt for which I liked and the spawned a story so crazy how that works. Link to that post here. But yeah anyways this is that prompt in story form lol. Was a lot of fun to write so enjoy!

cw: Fear, fear of death, minor graphic gore descriptions but nothing fatal, panic, rats, ghosts, Uhhhh I think that's it. Just fluffy stuff lets be real <3 wc: 2923

Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.

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It started a few months ago.

Wilbur had moved into his new apartment, finally free of the constant pestering and confinement of living under his parents roof. Things had been great at first, well they had until his stuff had started going missing.

At first, he assumed it was rats or mice that had gotten into the apartment and had been causing a raucous, but he’d been assured by his Landlord that they made sure to do thorough checks and the last pest control visit had been not even a month ago before he moved in.

Fast forward to now after what had been a month long period of the man thinking his new home was haunted as things fell off shelves or strange noises made themselves apparent in the middle of the night, Wilbur was talking to said Ghost that had made his initial move a living terror.

Well looking back, maybe not a living terror but more of a mild inconvenience. 

Tommy- or so the ghost called himself, had been calling him from his friend Jack’s phone at least once or twice a day since the phone was misplaced, and got a call from said ghost proudly stating: “I can see youuu.”

At first, Wilbur was convinced it was just some kid that had stolen Jack’s phone (which technically it was), but after he tried to locate the phone and found the signal was in fact coming from his apartment and yet nowhere to be found, Wilbur relented and gave into the boy’s story. They certainly were adamant about not giving it back or ever showing themselves to get it.

But even if they did steal a phone just to play pranks, Wilbur couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at the boy (We pretend Jack’s feelings about a child stealing his phone are irrelevant). They seemed lonely and after a while, his fear of the ghost haunting his house evaporated and he found himself enjoying talking to Tommy. Tommy seemed to think the same as any chance he could, he seemed to be ringing and wanting to chat.

Like right now as his own phone started vibrating with the classic Xylophone trill, the display showing incoming call from ‘Ghost Gremlin’ on the illuminated screen.

He wondered how the phone hadn’t run out of credit yet. Ghost powers he assumed.

“Hey Gremlin. What’s new in the world from beyond today?”

“Oi! I’m not a Gremlin! I’m a Big Man Ghost! Get it right Wilbitch.”

“Oh my apologies. How’s the world from beyond Ghost gremlin?” The man chuckled as he tapped on speaker modes to continue with copying his music work down hands free.

Wilbur heard a soft groan through the speakers and could imagine the boy probably rolling his eyes.

“It’s fine I guess. Same boring dead plane. Dark and dreary but oh so boring. That’s why I’ve rung my favourite Human Bean.” Tommy responded gleefully.

That was something strange about Tommy. He always called Wilbur a Human Bean no matter how many times he tried to correct his pronunciation of Human Being. Wilbur persummed his ghost was probably something like age 10-12 since he didn’t really seem to know about a lot of things with the number of times he’d explain something despite knowing what a TV was. 

“Yeah I guess being dead would get boring if you lived in a place like that.” 

“Yep.” Tommy said, popping the p. “So what are you writing down? I see you’ve got your guitar out.” 

Wilbur smiled as he wrote down a few more lines in cursive. “I’m just writing out the final version of that new song I’ve been working on. I can play it for you when I’m done later.” “But Wiiiil! I want to hear it now!!!!” The boy drawled in a whiny tone. 

Wilbur practically could hear the pouting face Tommy was making through the phone line.

“You know I don’t get to hear music often. Can’t you just play that funny song about Jared now? You’ve already finished that one AND it’s one of my favourites.”

“Tommy, I literally played Your New Boyfriend for you when you called yesterday. I think you can wait a little bit.”

Tommy huffed in response, the ghost relenting a little mumbling an annoyed fine before the two settled into a comfortable silence. For a being that was quite literally intangible, Tommy sure had a way of making his voice sound very real.

This was how a majority of their calls would go. Simple small talk about whatever the two were doing in the moment or had to do until Tommy ended up going on a rant about something random and Wilbur was happy to listen. It’s how he ended up learning about Tommy’s strange love for mud and he himself sharing his love for eating sand. He’s never heard anyone sound more offended about eating sand for a snack. 

What? It’s good he swears!

But some of Tommy’s rant topics were strange. Like what need does a ghost have with needing fishing hooks or dental floss? He assumed that the boy must have had some unusual fascination with tiny things before he died because he seemed to be very particular about how things needed to be if he were suddenly shrunk.

Like today how the Ghosts rant topic was about Rats and what right royal pricks they were.

“Like you don’t understand Wilbur, Rats are the absolute worst! They just come marching into your space and then decide to go through all your food stores and eat it- which they’re never satisfied with by the way, before trying to take a bite of you!” Tommy explained.

“Yes they are quite wretched little creatures. I wouldn’t like it if one bit my hand either.” Wilbur agreed as he finished writing another verse.

“If I could, I’d stab them before they ever even got close. I’d take my sword and plunge it into their hearts, all heroic and stuff.” 

“Couldn’t you just use your ghost powers and I don’t know, fling them away?” 

How would a rat even bite a ghost? Ghost’s don’t exactly have tangible bodies, Wilbur thought. 

“Stabbing them sounds like a lot more work when you can’t actually touch them.”

“Well if you want to be a boring ghost you can. But what other ghosts do you know can stab their enemies?” “Well you-”

“NONE! EXACTLY!” Tommy shouted triumphantly. “I’m one of a kind Wilbur and the Poggest Ghost to ever live!” 

“Sure Tommy. Sure.”

The ghost feigned offense with a long gasp. “You dare doubt me, the great and powerful TommyInnit? I could destroy you if I wanted to, you know.”

“Yeah but you won’t.” Wilbur shot back. “You’re just a sad child that has no one better to talk to and would miss me if you destroyed your only friend.”

“I would not because A. I have lots of friends and B. I’m not a child.” The boy snapped.

“How does that even make sense?” Wilbur queried as he finished off the last few lines in cursive.

“It doesn’t have to make sense purely because I’m better than you.”

“Sure little man.”

The boy huffed through the phone line. “I’m not little.” 

“Little Baby Man.” the brunette teased.

“Stop it.” 

“Little Baby Man Child.”

“AM NOT A LITTLE BABY MAN! I’M A BIG MAN! BIGGER THAN YOU, THE WORLD OR EVEN THE UNI-”

“But you accept that you’re a child.” Wilbur smirked as he moved the papers to pick up his guitar.  Tommy groaned.

Yeah, Wilbur didn’t mind this at all.

__________________________             ▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. +1

__________________________

Wilbur played his guitar for a few more hours before Tommy eventually said his goodbyes to do ‘ghostly things’  as per usual for the night, leaving Wilbur the rest of the evening to settle down for bed. He’d been asleep probably an hour or so before being woken to the sound of his ringtone.

Groggily, Wilbur reached for his phone on the nightstand, half asleep as it rang. Instead of grabbing it though, he accidentally knocked it to the ground earning a groan from the man as he lazily searched the ground for it. Just as he grabbed the phone, the call rang out leaving one new voice mail message in his notifications.

Blearily ignoring who the message was from, he opened his phone and tapped on the voicemail raising it up to listen. 

‘You have one-new-voicemail BEEP!’

“Wil, WILBUR!”

Hang on. That sort of sounds like Tommy.

“PICK UP YOUR PHONE! PLEASE WIL! I NEED HELP!”

Wilbur bolted upright now fully wide awake. Tommy was in trouble. He needed help. Where was he? How could he help a ghost?

Before his mind could divulge into further panic, his phone rang again and Wilbur didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Tommy? Tommy, where are you? Are you okay? I-”

“WILBUR HELP ME PLEASE! IT’S HERE! IT’S GOING TO GET ME AND I’M CORNERED! I’M GONNA DIE I PLE-” The cries of the boy sending the brunette into panic mode.

“WOAH WOAH woah Tommy I need you to calm down for me.” Wilbur tried, listening to the labored breaths of the ghost on the other line. “I need you to tell me where you are so I can come help, can you do that.”

“I- I’m.. Uh. I CAN’T TELL YOU! YOU’LL HATE ME!” The boy yelled between hiccupped breaths as they began to cry, loud thumping and hisses filling the background noise.

“Tommy, all I care about is finding you to help, I’m not going to hate you.”

“But you will! Everyone hates me when they find out!”

Tommy had never sounded so terrified before. Wilbur never truly believed anything could hurt the ghost before, but whatever had them so panicked must be serious and the increase in thrashing noises was not easing his nerves.

“Toms, I could never hate you. I want to help you, but I can’t do that unless you tell me where you are.” 

“I- Promise?” Desperation clear in the boy's voice.

“I promise.”

There was a brief pause from the boy before they shakily instructed him into the Hallway.

“Okay, open the closest and I’m in there.”

A loud screech came through the phone's speakers followed by a cry in pain before Tommy was screaming for help through the speakers.

“WILBUR HURRY! I CAN’T HOLD THEM OFF FOR MUCH LONG—.” 

“Tommy? TOMMY?!”

The line was dead.

Wilbur had never run faster in his life. His mind spiraled with horrid thoughts at what that sound was and why Tommy would be in his closet, but despite the ridiculousness of it, his focus was on helping his friend. 

As he approached the closet, the sound of muffled hissing and shrieking filled his senses and Wilbur was quick to fling open the closet. 

Nothing.

Wilbur stood confused but the noises didn’t cease, only growing louder now the door was open. He followed the sound down to the floor, realising that whatever it was, was beneath the floorboards.

Wilbur was quick to act and ran to grab something from the kitchen to pry the boards up, the sounds growing worse with every passing second. As soon as he had what he needed, Wilbur started heaving each nail out from the floor, prying the board up to reveal what was beneath. With one final pull, the board came loose, and the man yanked the board back revealing an unseemly sight.

A huge rat was scratching and gnawing at what appeared to be a tiny wardrobe. It hadn’t seemed to notice Wilbur yet, hell bent at getting whatever was inside the little cupboard. It was when the rat tried head butting the cupboard did a terrified scream hit his ears.

The brunette grabbed the rat in an instant, gripping the thing tightly as it writhed and screeched in his grasp. Quickly he stood and moved to take it outside where he threw it;  standing there, panting heavily watching as it landed with a thump before whimpering away. 

What just happened?

He barely had any time to dwell on it further before tiny little thumps could be heard coming from back down the hall. 

Tommy

“Tommy!” Wilbur rushed back inside and crouched down on his knees as he observed what laid before him. “Tommy are you alright?”

Despite it being wrecked, it appeared to be a miniature room. Small fairy lights lined the walls and small trinkets made up what could be a wrecked table and chair, sprawled all over the place from the intrusion of the rat. But what really shocked Wilbur, was seeing Jack’s old phone slightly banged up beneath part of a broken floor board in the corner.

Gingerly, Wilbur reached out and lifted it from the debris, to inspect if it was actually real or his imagination. It indeed was the very same phone Jack lost and somehow was even plugged into a charging port.

What is all this? 

“Tommy are you?” Wilbur asked, confusion lacing his voice. Why was Jack’s phone in a tiny room? Where was his friend?

Suddenly, the wardrobe the rat had been so interested in moved. Wilbur set the phone down as the small piece of furniture jerked again, making it wobble ever so slightly in place. 

With bated breath, Wilbur carefully reached forward, gently picking up the tiny wardrobe between his thumb and pointer finger bringing it into his palm. 

It was banged up badly from how the rat had been trying to tear into it, but intact. What was it about this that had the rat so enthralled?

Trying the best he could, Wilbur grabbed the tiny little door knob and pried the door open. 

Wilbur froze, dumb founded at what was hidden inside.

Staring at him with blue eyes blown wide in terror, was a tiny little blonde boy, pushed far back into the wardrobe as humanly possible, gripping the sides with all their might. Their breathing was labored and they looked worse for wear, tears through their little jacket and angry red scratches littering their arms, some even appearing to be smeared with blood.

“What on earth?” Wilbur’s brow crinkled in confusion. 

He was holding a tiny person in a wardrobe.

A tiny person that had almost been killed by a rat.

The tiny boy’s eyes darted all over the place, seemingly trying to figure out how to escape the mess they were in, as Wilbur tried to process that he was holding an entire person within his palms. How was this even possible?

“I- ” The tiny person begged, Wilbur’s full attention locked onto them as tears continued to stream down their face. “Please don’t hurt me Wilby!”

Tommy?!

No. No Tommy was- Tommy is a Ghost that made random phone calls. Tommy that loved his music and mud that was very much a ghost and not a tiny little person.

“Tommy?” Wilbur brought his free hand to cover his mouth. “What. How?”

“Please don’t hate me! I’ll leave! You’ll never see me again, just don’t hurt me!” The little boy pleaded, curling into themselves in an attempt to hide themself.  “I never meant for this to happen. You weren’t supposed to know and now you’ll-” 

“Tommy, Toms calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah right! That’s when you thought I was a ghost! Now you know the truth and I can’t do anything about it.” the boy sobbed. 

Wilbur hated how small Tommy looked. He was always so bright and full of life when they spoke on the phone, but now it was like holding a fragile flower. So small, so delicate, so precious and in need of protection. He just wanted to reach out and hold them close.

“Tommy, look at me please.” Wilbur pleaded, waiting patiently for the boy to look at him before he continued.

“Tommy, I would never hurt you. Yes you pretended to be a ghost and took Jack’s phone, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Tommy lifted his head and swiped his arm across his nose of snot and tears as Wilbur continued.

“You’re one of my best friends Tommy. I don’t talk to anyone nearly as much as I do with you and I care about you, whether you’re a ghost or not.” Wilbur brought Tommy a bit closer to himself, lifting the tiny boy up to be eye level.

“Besides, I made a promise to not hate you, remember? I intend to keep it.”

Tommy's lip began to wobble, before the boy burst into tears, unable to hold himself back any longer. 

“I’m sorry Wilby!” The boy cried as they crawled out of the wardrobe onto the man's hand. “ I wanted to tell you but I was scared.” 

“Shh it’s alright.” Wilbur assured, setting the wardrobe down before bringing Tommy close to his chest protectively. “I’ve got you and it’s all going to be okay.”

While this whole ordeal was crazy and strange, in this moment it didn’t matter.

They’d have to talk about why the boy was living in the man’s floors and why he pretended to be a ghost in the first place (not to mention how and why Tommy was like 3 inches tall) but that could all wait for later.

Wilbur loved Tommy more than the boy ever understood, and it brought great joy to Wilbur that finally, he was able to meet his pseudo little brother face to face. They’d figure everything out eventually, but for now-

This was enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND THANK YOU IF YOU READ TO THE END!!

For real this was fun to write and I did it all in one sitting lol. Was good to just smash out a short project that was something new and different. It took me far too long to get around to editing it though lol. Thank you Squishy and Munchkin for Beta reading. You're the best! ❤️❤️❤️

Tag List Link here: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10 @guppybubbles

OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT, LOOK AT THE ART SQUISHY MADE FOR THIS AFTER THEY FINISHED READING!!!

I MEAN LOOK AT THIS! IT'S THE WARDROBE SCENE! When I tell you I squealed in delight when I saw this I mean it. I walked into work grinning because it's all I could think about lol. Thanks again beautiful! Truly gifted you are <3

[chiyoso]

𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

sypnosis. a world of normality and what seemed to be hailed as fiction, had separate you from society and those who were once closest to you.y ou were thrown into a life of the unsightly, its beautiful horrors pushing you to the edge of death, but what happens if fate finally takes pity and answers your desperate, internal calls, having you bestowed with a savior made of white and blue hues?

cw. alternate universe, attempt of suicide, explicit, dark and mature content, family trauma, depression, prodigious burnout, people pleasing, breakdowns, physical harm, violence, dead dove: do not eat.

reclaimation banner via. @ainescribe thank you so much bb ily

It was a sick joke.

You didn't know what those things were, those otherworldly things that occupy space, matter, it was everywhere. you see them everywhere, on people's bodies, looking over them, in buildings, outside buildings, creatures that vary sizes, form and appearances.

All since your adolescence.

It was hard to ignore them in your every day life growing up, especially if they got too close to you, trying to make edge you into noticing them, challenging your courage, your fear when they loomed over you, all so they can have a confirmation that you can see them, and they can harm you.

Family, childhood friends, classmates, deciding that you were a "special child" all because you gushed about it to them, once, being taken to anywhere that involves psychological healing, emotional distress, any form of counseling.

You were deemed mental, the silence from the people who you thought should be your safe haven was loud, suffocating, and you grew to inevitably loathe them.

All the skills you acquired, be it the skill of music that astounded many but your own parents, the meals you provided for your family but they refused to participate in eating with you, all that crumbled, it was nothing to them now.

So, what did you do so criminal to them?

Was it the era of close mindedness that many parents seem to harbor at this time? Was it something personal? Did they just grow sick at the idea of having a daughter who couldn't be fucking normal?

“Don't give me that crap!” You screamed, it was gutteral, eyes diluted, all your nerves making you tremble in place.

You wanted to die, and you were going to.

You had the necessities. A chair, some strong wires, scissors? A knife? The train? No, you wanted them to discover your body, beside the suicide note you wrote with hate. Strangled, suffered, tears on the wooden floor. Mhm.

A last push of hardwork, preparing everything, a simple chair, a simple rope, and a simple mindset.

You didn't need to make a mess, you didn't want authorities meet you the first time in a bloody mess, you disappointed enough people, your parents, their expectations, your clan.

So... why not lessen everyone's burden by making it clean, simplistic farewell? Blue veins all over your neck, maybe a foaming in the mouth?

How will your once praised facial features look like when death claimed you? Was it going to look dull? Is it true that people's light in their eyes disappear when they die? Will you look prettier?

Uglier? Wait, your parents are going to be spending a lot in your funeral too, since they're always so damn flashy about anything, flaunting their money, their statuses. They'll for sure pretend to honor your name, as well as the people that are under your parent's lead.

Like sheeps, just like fucking sheeps.

Oh. You were done setting up already, already stood tall on the chair, viewing the window that gave in the only light in your life.

Cheers. To a new life with more pretty people, more pretty things, and a more pretty life.

...

Ah, but you didn't even get laid yet. You didn't even finish that one novel game's ending yet, that manga you wait for every week hasn't even finished yet, you didn't even do anything much yet. You didn't want t—“Huh?”

The moment your leg hovered over the space infront of you, it was a few seconds after you realized, that half of your apartment got ripped apart, you were standing on your chair, a rope loosely held around your neck, but the view before you was the very neighborhood you.

It was bright, shining, the sudden exposure blinded you, rendering you in a stunlock, putting you into a state of immense confusion.

What—“the fuck?” your eyes gleamed at the sight of something bizarre, catching sight that quelled your state of close death, no it wasn't the beautiful azure sky that slapped you right in the face with a breeze, or the heavy destruction in your surroundings, especially not typical grotesque, large scale creature that was levitating in the air before you.

It was it's pursuer, a white haired man, grinning with delight despite his aerial circumstances. He was in the middle of combat from the way he was moving against the—Wait. He can... see it?

He can see that creature? He can see it too?

Your heart pounded with fervor, your ears buzzed, ringing, fighting back to gasp for air from the revelation before you, and all that intensifies once two eyes that almost blended into the sky took notice of you, and the noose hanging around your neck especially.

His body shifted, and you noticed his sudden change of body language as gravity pulls him down, his gleeful expression reduced to a state of neutral seriousness, perhaps realizing the damage in the terrain he was fighting on, he was confident in his movement despite falling in the ether.

Your eyes remained on the sight of orange and golden destruction, fumes of smoke were heavy, pieces of cement everywhere, and you were now just processing the state of disarray your neighborhood was in, but you didn't care.

You didn't care. They probably didn't know the cause of this anyways, the media would definitely paint this unnatural scenario as something related to religion or a natural disaster, one of the two, they also can't see the gigantic otherworldly form in the sky anyways, but he can.

He can see it, he can see it like you do.

reblogs help my audience reach, thank you.

taglist. @ainescribe @lychniis @sleep-deprivedracoon @ciarchivez @teapartyspilled @wanderingconstellations @kyouko-writes @antimatterz @hitomisuzuya @serenitiiy @scaraswh0re @scara6 @kazushawty @oreo-creampie @angelgyumi @flametrashira @renhoeku @v3lv3tf0x @meowzfordayz @countessqin @aerithsthingss

also, here's the book cover i made for this series <3 ✌🏻>wÓ

[angelicadamposting]

Evangeline - Adam’s Third Wife

(winner!Eva)

Evangeline-Juliette Antoinette de France

first look at my oc (started as a s/i for my f/o but evolved okay)

art by @w0nderous !! (tysm again <3)

I really want to post some of my writing/fan fiction about her and Adam but I don’t know how embarrassing it would be. character sheet below tho :3

Additionally I do have two timelines for her ! This one & one where she falls and becomes a ‘sinner’ but I need to commission art of her sinner form !!

CW: d3ath mentioned, uhh historical fiction,

Basic Info

Name: Evangeline (Formerly Evangeline-Juliette Antionette de France) Species: Angel / Divine Soul (Formerly Human) Physical Age: 22 Birth Date: November 26, 1780 Death Year: 1802 Height: 4'11 ft or 150 cm MBTI: INFJ

Likes

Reading

Adam (Duh)

Sweets

Bread

Ballroom Dancing

Helping/Supporting Others

Cooking (Despite Failing)

Music (Listening)

Singing

Fashion

Shopping

Dislikes

Being Kept in the Dark/Lied To

Senseless Violence

Being Alone

Surprises

Silence

Spicy or even just Unfamiliar Foods

Being Belittled or Disrespected

Cemeteries

‘Ugly people’ - adam

Insects

Clutter

Overview/Backstory(before heaven)

Evangeline was born as a peasant in France, her parents each working beneath King Louis VXI and Queen Marie Antionette. At a young age, Evangeline and her elder sister were chosen to become Marie's daughter's playmates. A common practice for nobles of the ra to find a commoner to befriend their child to socialize with them, however, the Queen chose to do this to teach her daughter empathy. After several years of spending day after day at the side of the Princess, her mother passed away. Stricken with responsibility and a heart bigger than the public knew, Marie Antionette adopted Evangeline and her elder sister. Quickly moving the two into the Palace of Versailles and giving each of them new names based on her favorite books, Evangeline now being called Juliette by her adopted mother based on 'Les Lettres de Juliette Catesby (1759)' by Marie Jeanne Riccoboni.

Despite being treated with the same maternal care and affection as Marie's biological daughter, Evangeline nor her elder sister were ever granted titles. Instead, the two were often referred to by others in the palace as 'the girls who always accompany Princess Marie-Therese.' This never bothered Evangeline, the young girl only thankful for the affection and opportunity within the palace. Her new mother gave her access to literature, teaching her to read as soon as possible, and teaching her daughter how to love books just as she did. It was at this time that Evangeline began to read the bible and learn other languages.

When the political unrest within France grew and the royal family attempted to flee, Evangeline and her sister were sent to the countryside to live with their biological father until the family returned shortly after failing the attempt. The unrest only grew, however, resulting in the Queen instructing another member of the French Court to take Evangeline and her sister to safety. The two living with the Mackau family during the height of the revolution and during their adopted parent's executions, their biological father shortly following in their footsteps due to his association with the King.

It wasn't until age 17 that Evangeline was released from legal guardianship, and permission to use the pension from her deceased adoptive parents as she wished. For the first time, the young woman was on her own in the world, and her name had been changed back to match that of her biological parents instead of the royal family. She moved to Saint-Denis in Paris to live close to her sister, the only person she even knew anymore.

For years, the young woman lived alone, unsure of what direction her life was meant to go in. Everything had been set up for her, prepared for her since she had been adopted. Things were always taken care of for her, a future decided for her even when she was under legal guardianship by the Mackau family. Near overnight everything changed, her whole life flipped upside down and every adult with a parental role in her eyes was gone. She spent her days reading, visiting with her neighbors, and feeding the strays while her sister began a family, at least being married off. It wasn't until 1802 when a group of soldiers traveled through her city, ones she just had to run into on the street, unknowingly spread yellow fever throughout Saint-Denis.

Early winter that year, Evangeline passed away in her home with no one but her faith and sister at her side. Without even a good story to tell, the young woman went to sleep to never wake up in the mortal realm again. However, she instead awoke before the pearly gates. She was greeted by St. Peter, who quickly checked his book to find her name, and brought through the gates quickly. Passing through the gates, Evangeline's senses were overloaded by the bright aura that emitted off the grand, beautiful structures softly sat atop the clouds. Almost causing her to miss the other angels themselves, as her eyes danced from billboard to fountain and so on. (that ended up longer than intended, maybe 2 many details)

Notable Relationships

Adam: The First Man Evangeline initially wasn't the biggest fan of Adam when they first met, as crude and obnoxious as he was, although over time she began to notice herself laughing at his annoying comments instead of cringing. She was probably the one to fall for him first, much to her dismay; Although she wouldn't be the first to make a move. Internally and externally she denied the fact she'd grown to care for him, enjoyed his crass humor, and couldn't stand how quiet things were when he wasn't around. After several months of relentless seemingly one-sided flirting from Adam, Evangeline relented, eventually reciprocating his advances. Although, due to her embarrassment she attempted to keep their entanglement a secret, which did not last long, when Lute opened the door of Adam's office one evening and caught the two getting heated. After this, the two made their relationship official and it became known within heaven among both the angels of lower and higher status. Despite her initial uncertainty, after what felt like no time the couple engaged before being married in 'holy matrimony.' Due to Adam's history regarding Eve and Lilith, Evangeline vowed to always stay by his side as his wife and support him. She never wanted to turn out like the two who hurt the only man who ever made her laugh or feel loved since she died before ever finding someone in life. The biggest problem within their relationship arises 200 years after they marry, due to the fact Adam kept the exterminations a secret from her their entire marriage. Truthfully, the only reason she ever learned of them was by chance and staying up 'overnight' during the yearly extermination, a night she had always viewed as the one day Adam took work seriously. This was why she stayed up late, waiting for him to get back with Lute so she could see him and ask how it went, even if she didn't know truly what it was his 'job' was. While waiting, she heard the door open followed by the voices of Adam and Lute. The two were happily chatting about slaughtering hundreds of souls, sinners specifically, but still. The revelation that her husband and someone she'd considered her closest friend were capable of such acts horrified Evangeline and caused her to rush toward them with a million questions. Lute pretty quickly excused herself, claiming this was Adam's problem, and leaving the couple to argue in privacy. They went back and forth on the ethics of it, the purpose, and how it could possibly be justified. 'It's to protect us! To protect Heaven and all of us angels here! Those sinners and demons want to uprise, you don't even get it-' All of his excuses seemed to fall onto deaf ears, as Evangeline shook her head in denial and led the argument until daybreak. Eventually, she began to kind of understand his supposed perspective. Thinking of the revolution and uprising that caused what she had always known to be a loving family to be torn apart, she chose to trust Adam and the other angels who made the decisions regarding the exterminations.

Lute Evangeline met Lute at the same time she met Adam, in fact, she walked right past Adam to introduce herself to Lute with a warm smile and handshake. Lute was apprehensive at first, uneasy with what seemed like sickly sweet kindness that radiated off the new angel. However, once she viewed how she reacted to Adam and was nearly forced to spend time with her; Lute began to consider Evangeline a friend. The two often spend their free time away from Adam together, whether that be talking shit or shopping. The second of the two options was less of a favorite of the exorcist angel, although she seemed to enjoy the food portions of their shopping trips. Often times one will try to invest the other in one of their own hobbies, like Evangeline's singing or Lute's combat practice; Each resulting in humorous situations for the friends. When Evangeline learns of the exterminations, and about who/what Lute really is, she's initially hurt by the fact her only actual friend had kept such a secret from her. (even if it was ordered and literally a part of the rules.) A wedge nearly being thrown between them, until Lute finally explains the fact there are rules regarding the exterminations and how only the exorcist angels and seraphim really know. While this explanation makes sense, Evangeline accepts this and tries to move on. In the end, learning the truth caused the two women to become better friends now that Lute truly could open up to someone else and not have to rely on Adam as the only one who knew the truth. - Okay, this was way longer than intended !! if you actually read all the way to here, thank you for taking the time !!

[seething-river]

4 Star Book Reads for 2024

As promised, here are the 4 star books I read in 2024.

Will I be doing 3 star or below?

No.

Why? Because people don’t see three star ratings as still good, still enjoyable except that’s what it means. It was a perfectly enjoyable read in the moment, but its edges blend with something else I read or it’s not something I’ll necessarily carry with me into the future.

And why won’t I do 1 or 2 star reads?

Because I’m mean.

When I start realizing I don’t like I book I read, my editor brain kicks in before common sense does. Common sense would tell me to stop reading because life’s too short to waste on bad literature. Instead, my brain tries to fix it and I edit those books like I edit my own.

Anyways, 4 star books didn’t necessarily make me feel a strong emotion like 5 star books did but nonetheless were great fun and I recommend them generally as fun, though they may have spelling errors, plot holes, or other issues.

CW for you minors: I read smut so some of these books are 18+ and I don’t always remember which are which so…ask your parents, I guess.

Ruthless Vows - Rebecca Ross

Kingdom of Villains - Ella Fields (18+)

A King So Cold - Ella Fields (18+)

Lord of Embers - CN Crawford (18+)

These Hollow Vows - Lexi Ryan

Garden of Serpents - CN Crawford (18+)

These Twisted Bonds - Lexi Ryan

Frost - CN Crawford (18+)

Ambrosia - CN Crawford (18+)

Nettle and Bone - T Kingfisher

The Seventh Bride - T Kingfisher

Fallen - CN Crawford (18+)

All Systems Red - Martha Wells

Artificial Condition - Martha Wells

The Plot Whisperer - Martha Alderson (non-fiction)

The Clockwork Boys - T Kingfisher

Swordheart - T Kingfisher

Heat of the Everflame* - Penn Cole

Ensnared - Tiffany Roberts (18+)

Spellmaker - Charlie Holmberg (honestly adorable)

Daughter of the Moon Goddess - Sue Lynn Tan (alllllllllmost 5 stars)

Lord of Gold and Glory - Lisette Marshall

Ruins of Sea and Souls - Lisette Marshall

Queens of Mist and Madness - Lisette Marshall

Heart of the Sun Warrior - Sue Lynn Tan (again, almost 5 stars)

Mist and Shadow - Jenna Wolfheart

What Moves the Dead - T Kingfisher

A Gathering of Shadows - VE Schwab

What Feasts at Night - T Kingfisher

The Foxglove King - Hannah Witten

The Hemlock Queen - Hannah Witten

Viscous - VE Schwab

Paladin’s Hope - T Kingfisher

Paladin’s Faith - T Kingfisher

A Soul to Keep - Opal Reyne (18+)

This Savage Song - VE Schwab

A Soul to Guide - Opal Reyne (18+)

A Soul to Steal - Opal Reyne (18+)

Luxuria - Collette Rhodes (18+)

Gula - Collette Rhodes (18+)

Avarita - Collette Rhodes (18+)

Invidia - Collette Rhodes (18+)

Run Riot - Collette Rhodes (18+)

Silver Bullet - Collette Rhodes (18+)

Dare Not - Collette Rhodes (18+)

Our Dark Duet - VE Schwab

Storm of Paine - Opal Reyne (18+)

Under Darkened Skies - HE Bauman

The Clockwork Prince - Cassandra Clare

The Clockwork Princess - Cassandra Clare

Reign and Ruin - JD Evans (18+? - I honestly don’t remember but probably)

Storm and Shield - JD Evens (18+?)

Phantasma - Kaylie Smith (18+)

Ink - Alice Broadway

A Door in the Dark - Scott Reignten

A Whisper in the Walls - Scott Reignten

Juniper Unraveling - Keri Lake (18+)

The Enchanter’s Blood - JA Stowe (18+)

City of Brass - SA Chakraborty

Ira - Collette Rhodes (18+)

The Book that Broke the World - Mark Lawrence

The Kingdom of Copper - SA Chakraborty

American Rule - Jared Yates Sexton (non-fiction)

Pawn of the Cruel Princess - Rebecca F Kenney (18+)

Jailer to the Death God - Rebecca F Kenney (18+)

Theif of Silver and Souls - Eva Chase (18+)

Game of Death and Desire - Eva Chase (18+)

The Light Fantastic - Terry Pratchett

Acedia - Collette Rhodes (18+)

The Ten Percent Solution - Ken Rand (non-fiction)

Slayer of the Pirate Lord - Rebecca F Kenney (18+) *The final book of the series was supposed to be published in May and never was, the series is currently unfinished and each book ends on a cliffhanger