#cw: mentions of murder

[romances-not-tragedies]

and i keep my side of the street clean

Summary: When a chat about the case of the murdered magician goes ugly, one of Jo Gar's longtime acquaintances walks up into the scene and chooses figurative violence against the lieutenant of the Manila Police Station who thinks he is right in accusing an innocent man of a murder he may not commit. Or "The Magician Murder" AU in which someone puts Sadi Ratan in his place. Title from Taylor Swift's "Karma".

Content warnings: mentions of murder case, swearing, abuse of power by authority, insult towards an honorable ex-government official, not-quite accurate depiction of legal processes in pre-Revised Penal Code era, mixed opinions on the American colonial government in the Philippines

Note: Edilberto Alcantara is an original character I have made for each and every Jo Gar 'verse. In the stories he is a lawyer who's had the honor of working under one of the most honorable government officials who would figure in the country's history under tragic circumstances (read WWII).

Edilberto knew that he was supposed to be home, in an apartment unit at the arrabal of Ermita where he’d been living two years ago. To be fair, though, he still went back to the house at Calle Azarraga, which his family had bought upon securing enough funds while he entering his teenage years, for the weekends or when he felt like it, since it felt more like home than he'd thought it was before moving out.

But Jo had asked him to come over at his little office near Escolta since he needed his unofficial opinion on a certain case, and he climbed up the stairs after waving a greeting to Wong Ling, who seemed to be fretting in his place. He had wanted to ask but he had no time. He arrived at the door, not locked as he knew Jo would not lock his door as force of habit, only to hear sounds of conversations.

He bent down and pressed his ear against the keyhole to listen to who and what they were talking.

He recognized Jo’s matter-of-fact tone of speaking, countering with the always charged (and angry) tone from Lieutenant Sadi Ratan. He resisted the urge to sigh, as he had known the lieutenant to be a pus-filled boil on your buttocks dressed in a handsome face and spotless uniform. He had intensely disliked the lieutenant from the get-go. They were discussing about the case of a murdered magician, Señor Dario Cardoro who had arrived in the country and was watching the cockfight this night, only to get into a problem after the last round.

What it was, Edilberto had no idea.

And then, as it often went, what was supposed to be a decent conversation (or at least on Jo Gar’s part) devolved into the usual ugly shit. He heard the lieutenant ask in a demanding tone if Jo would accept Señor Sam Markden’s commission as he was seen as prime suspect.

It’s his right, yawa, he wanted to retort, but kept himself silent so he could time his entrance.

Then, he heard the lieutenant accuse Jo Gar, “You are protecting an American. You have always protected them. You like them. He was your client.”

Really now? Edilberto asked, if only to himself. It was like accusing you that you liked the current Governor-General, who Edilberto did not like since the Conley Crisis. Also, why was the lieutenant taking issue with Jo taking Markden as a client?

To Jo’s credit, he was as calm as he could be. “I was not paid that well,” he answered. “I doubt that I could be paid that well. Riazo was not drugged. You have no proof of it.”

Ayos! Edilberto silently cheered with a little fist pump. Drag him to hell, Jo. You’re doing it right.

Hotly, the lieutenant fired back, “I stood over Juan Derigo when he told me—”

So you intimidated him, then? Edilberto wanted to ask him.

“A Filipino does not like to be beaten,” Edilberto heard Jo chuckle as he replied. And the statement was true, unfortunately. “He preferred to let you think as you wished.”

Ha! Take that, you sorry sack of ball-less cocks!

Again, he heard the lieutenant vow to Jo, “It will not be good for you to protect Markden, Señor Gar. When we have caught him—”

Unless proven otherwise, Lieutenant Idiot-Face. You forgot that part. You only have one job and you are blowing it.

“The birds were in condition,” cut off Jo, though he spoke slowly. “Each of them. Riazo was defeated. That was all.”

But Lieutenant Idiot-Face, er, Lieutenant Ratan said, as though he had discovered buried treasure, “It is not all. Cardoro stood up and shouted that he would not pay.” Okay, so the man had money problems, and that’s the least of Edilberto’s worries right now. He was worried about the horrid fucker insisting that he was right despite the fact that his arguments could be thrown away by any sane juez de la paz. “I saw Markden’s face—”

Oh, you could read faces now? Good for you, Edilberto sarcastically said if to himself.

The lieutenant continued, “—there was hate in his eyes. And Cardoro was murdered. A spur knife was used. Markden has vanished. We have searched the city for him. He is the killer of the magician!”

And yet in your hate towards Jo Gar, you haven’t killed him. Also, why must you insist on something not yet fully proven? Anger was simmering in the young attorney. Were his former boss present in Jo’s office and was confronted by someone like Sadi Ratan, he would dismantle the lieutenant’s arguments with calm logic and knowledge of the law. He would gently but firmly rip them apart, one by one, until nothing was left for the lieutenant.

Jo replied with a sigh, “Then it is all very simple. You will find him, and that will be the end.”

Unless the court says otherwise, Jo. You forgot that part.

The calm must have driven Lieutenant Ratan crazy. Angry, perhaps. Which was why he would commit one of the most blatantly terrible acts of injustice Edilberto would hear him threaten Jo.

“And you will be brought to trial for lying to me, a police officer!” Edilberto heard Lieutenant Ratan fiercely threaten Jo Gar.

Anger shot through Edilberto. How dare Lieutenant Sadi Ratan accuse everyone and anyone of lying without solid proof! He wanted to puke and not because of beer, and he didn’t even drink! And he hadn’t made Jo swear an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, an abomination of everything he had learned at law school and his ongoing stint at the Department of Justice. And he would have him tried for a crime he was trying to prove with only conjectures? No solid evidence?

That’s it, I’ve had enough!

He swung the door open and stepped inside the little office of his late cousin’s friend. “‘Lying to me?’” he repeated the words mockingly as a greeting to the lieutenant. He closed the door behind him a little too strongly and raised a brow at the lieutenant. “Who the fuck do you think Jo Gar is, your wayward husband?” he asked crisply and coolly like the amihan winds of December.

That made both men jump out on where they were standing. Cold satisfaction ran through the young attorney when the police lieutenant went stiff and his eyes grew comically wide. Jo Gar blinked a few times.

The “wayward husband” remark must have disoriented them, he thought.

It took both men time to recover from this dramatic greeting, Jo calming down first and greeting him with a faint smile, “Compañero Alcantara, what a pleasant surprise.” Relief washed over Jo’s countenance, though he hid it behind his usual expressionless face.

Edilberto smiled at Jo Gar and answered, “I thought you’ve already known that I would be here, since you sent me a message before I left home. And I do believe that Lieutenant Sadi Ratan here would quickly accuse me of conflict of interest even if I am just here for a different reason.” He delivered the last sentence in a cutting, sarcastic manner he’d always use when dealing with the lieutenant.

“How long have you been listening to us, Compañero Alcantara?” Edilberto turned to the police lieutenant, who was fuming so badly that he could see smoke out of his nose and ears.

The attorney directed his eyes towards Lieutenant Ratan, curled his lips in a here comes trouble smirk that had been a family trademark. He answered, “Long enough to hear you accusing of Señor Gar of liking Americans and committing perjury even if he has not sworn to someone who is fit to administer an oath. And then quickly accuse of Señor Markden of killing Señor Cardoro on the basis of—what?” He blurted out the last word in a mocking laugh. “Simply because he had dug up dirt on the man? That’s not how things work, Lieutenant. I thought you know better. I was wrong.”

He watched Jo Gar watching this unfold with interest and a bit of worry. He must have known that Edilberto hated the lieutenant, even more so when he watched the lieutenant trying to get under Jo’s skin. His underhanded tactics made Edilberto seethe no matter what.

Then his eyes went right back to Lieutenant Ratan as he grew red on the face. He must have hit where it hurt the most. Good, let him be angry and make his head explode.

Then Lieutenant Sadi Ratan exploded, making him barely flinch, “He lied to me! He is having Señor Markden hide behind him even though he is the killer of Señor Cardoro!”

Edilberto recovered from the outburst, thinking that Lieutenant Ratan sounded more like a lover scorned than a member of the Manila Police District. He asked, “Did you administer an oath to Jo Gar? Because from what I have heard, you did not. You just fired out accusations towards Señor Markden based on flimsy evidence and conjectures. If you tried to push it to trial stage at the court, even at the First Instance, the juez de la paz will laugh at your arguments. And while Señor Markden is suspected of killing Cardoro, he still has the right to ask for aid, legal aid.”

“Asking for aid from Señor Gar is not legal aid!” fired Sadi Ratan back.

“Doesn’t he have the right for an attorney?”” Edilberto countered matter-of-factly. “Is that not legal aid?” He watched the lieutenant grow mad once more and he was steps away from what his sister would call an apoplexy. He continued, “Plus, you already presumed him guilty, Lieutenant Ratan. That is not how it works.” He jutted his chin and pointed out, “He is still innocent until judged otherwise by the court of law.”

“And you are siding with Señor Markden, too,” Sadi Ratan accused him, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You are supposed to be on the side of the law. I thought you know better.”

Edilberto rose an eyebrow on that, amused at this feeble show of power. “Why, I have been hearing that accusation too often,” he remarked, his voice mild but acerbic. He commented, “I must have gotten the lessons from my ex-boss wrong. I thought practicing fairness is important. Maybe I should visit him once more for some…clarification on the matter.”

“But I thought he had resigned from the Cabinet, Compañero Alcantara?” Jo Gar asked as he reached out for the packet of his favorite cigarettes in his coat.

“Which is why I said ‘ex-boss,’ Jo,” Edilberto pointed out with a smile on his face. “I still look up to him, though.”

He returned his stare to the lieutenant, who had dropped his finger when he saw how unfazed the attorney was. Which was a good sign, as it meant that what he’d said frazzled his non-existent brain.

“But he worked for Americans, and you work for Americans, Compañero Alcantara,” the lieutenant blurted out, gritting his teeth. He pointed to Jo and said, “And he likes working with Americans! He likes them and you like them!”

“So what?” Edilberto asked sharply. That this police lieutenant had the audacity to insult his former boss and his more-than stellar career in the government made his blood boil. Never mind he insulted his, but not that of the ex-Justice Secretary! It should earn him a punch or two, but that would be for another day. He stalked forwards, eyes and spirit hardened as he made Sadi Ratan stumble back.

Edilberto icily responded to the latter’s assault on the former Secretary, “My ex-boss was a pensionado, true. He also used to be part of the Cabinet as Justice Secretary before resigning. And guess who is leading the Cabinet? An American Governor-General! Does that make him pro-American? I don’t know except that my ex-boss is a fair and honorable man and is better at serving the people than you are.”

He smirked again at the arrogant lieutenant, who was utterly speechless, and pointed out, “And who is chief of the Manila Police District? An American! Your boss is often out of sight that we forget that he existed. And as for Americans asking for Jo’s help? That, Lieutenant Sadi Ratan, is none of your fucking business.”

He caught sight of Jo Gar looking at him in surprise. He knew that Jo had not seen him this angry towards anyone. Among his family and friends and in Jo’s opinion (at least how he’d say it), he had always been the mediator, the peaceful center amidst the chaotic dynamics.

He went on and said, “I’m not going to lie. It is not ideal, and I am not going to pretend that we do not have blood and muck up our necks because we work with Americans. Do not pretend that you are safe from it, either. You, too, are stained with the same shit as Jo and I are.”

“That is one way of putting it, Compañero,” Jo mildly said to Edilberto as he lit another cigarette. “But I fear that Lieutenant Ratan will not understand what you are telling him.”

Edilberto shook his head. “I’ve given up hope, Jo,” answered the attorney with a wave of his hand. “If he stays like that, that is on him.”

Then his attention went back to Lieutenant Ratan, who was standing there, angry defiance vibrating through him. He would not admit defeat, Edilberto thought to himself. He quietly told the police officer, “I will not be the cause of your downfall. Nor Jo Gar will be the cause of your downfall. You are already doing damn fine job yourself. But if you decide to go ahead with your threats and damn the consequences, go ahead. I will not stop you.”

Lieutenant Sadi Ratan reared back in shock. The shift in his tone must have jarred his brain and that he was giving the lieutenant an opportunity, a choice.

“I will warn you,” Edilberto continued, still mild in tone but with the rage in its undertones, “that since you are fond of committing this particular sin, a false charge can ruin a person. Arresting anyone on false charges can ruin them more. No one is safe from being falsely accused and being jailed for it. Señor Markden may not be safe. Señor Gar may not be safe. I may not be safe. You may not be safe either. So be careful if you keep proceeding. Do not say I have not warned you, Lieutenant Ratan.”

Their eyes clashed, and Lieutenant Sadi Ratan gave him a hard stare. Edilberto returned it with a frigid glare, his lips in a challenging not-quite smile. It was not long before Lieutenant Sadi Ratan broke the spell and walked away, but not without bumping into Edilberto’s shoulder, making the attorney stumble a little, and slammed the door shut. Edilberto muttered something unsavory about the lieutenant as he rubbed his affected shoulder.

Edilberto looked at Jo once more and let out a shaky breath of relief. “That ataya. He should have seen it coming,” he muttered as he approached Jo. “Sorry if I screwed it up.”

“On the other hand, you did well,” Jo said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m just worried that he would go after you.”

“On what grounds?” Edilberto asked as he sat on the fan-backed chair Jo had motioned for him to take. “That I warned him of the consequences if he continues to be an animal?” He pronounced the last word as his Cebuano parents would pronounce it when feeling annoyance towards anyone who acted uncouthly. “He can file a complaint to our acting boss if he wants to and if he has solid evidence. I’m not going to stop him because I know what is right and he is wrong. He made his bed, so let him sleep in it.”

Jo shook his head. “And yet you deal with him in a way you are daring him,” he told him, his blue-gray eyes on him, weariness evident in his countenance. “I wish I have half of your audacity to call him out like that. But it may take too much of my energy.”

Edilberto felt sympathy for him as he watched Jo run his fingers through his graying hair. Dealing with a stress inducer like Lieutenant Sadi Ratan would take a toll on anyone, even the unflappable Island Detective. He couldn’t blame him, though, if he wanted to deal with the lieutenant in a way he thought best.

“Whatever suits you best, Jo,” assured Edilberto. “But by God, I am steps away from punching his face! I wish I do not have to, because if I do, my family will be disappointed in me.”

Jo appeared to want to say something but closed his mouth and only nodded. “Well, let us set that aside, Edilberto, and discuss that case I am working on before the murder of Señor Cardoro. I would need your advice on how it is best handled in the legal matters.”

Edilberto let out a sigh. At last they had something to divert themselves from the debacle involving the aggressive idiot of a lieutenant.

***

And so, when Edilberto Alcantara heard that Sam Markden had been jailed for the murder of Dario Cardoro, his shoulders slumped. But when he read an article from the most recent edition of The Philippine Herald in his office at the Department of Justice, it turned out that it was Miss Jessie Rayne’s Spanish companion, Señora Elena Riggio, who killed the magician out of spite and a history that ended bitterly. Markden was let go because of this development.

That last bit of news had been heartening, but it made him angry too. Lieutenant Sadi Ratan let himself be carried away by his delusions of grandeur, believing that his word was gold. It turned out to be gold-hued enamel coating over a celluloid bauble. Because of him, he ruined the life of an innocent man with a false accusation and its resulting arrest.

And Jo Gar outwitted him again.

He knew that it did not have to be like that. Had the lieutenant been imbued with half the integrity and willingness to be corrected like his ex-superior, he would have done a fine job. But no, he did not.

There was nothing he could do. Lieutenant Sadi Ratan had brought this upon himself, and there was no one to blame but him alone. He had warned the man but he did not listen.

Now go stand in a corner and think about what you did, Lieutenant Idiot-Face.

For now, Edilberto decided to go on with his life.

He stood from his desk and placed the newspaper on a table along with the others in today’s edition. Going back to his place, he resumed his job, reviewing paperwork for an upcoming meeting with fellow lawyers on a case they were going to pursue at court.

[pillowspace]

Moon and Marinette talking is the cutest thing. Sun and Moon feeling bad for this child who was locked out and killed.

[ananxiousgenz]

hey so I normally don't make political posts because it gets me really upset and i dont want to get involved with all of it but I am currently beyond pissed.

nex benedict, the 16 year old from oklahoma who died after being beaten by classmates in their school bathroom, just had their death ruled a suicide.

a fucking suicide. because they had antidepressants and antihistamines in their system.

one of my nonbinary siblings was MURDERED by classmates for being themselves and you dare to rule it a suicide because they were depressed and took allergy medication??? how cruel and closed minded to you have to be to deny that the beating had any role in their death?? if they had been a cisgender woman, you can bet those classmates would already have been charged with homicide, but no. instead you claim they brought it on themselves. they caused it. they are at fault here.

my heart is burning with grief and rage. I'm not going to make many political statements on this account but I'm making one now: I STAND WITH MY TRANS AND NONBINARY SIBLINGS. WE DESERVE TO LIVE.

JUSTICE FOR NEX BENEDICT.

[naswoop]

No you're not.

(Yes I am still obsessed with this au)

[lemm-moxx]

One of Killer's bodacious babes bodacioushoislly ends him 🤕

[canisalbus]

Speaking of paintings, I always imagined Machete's assassination (or, how they found him) to be something like The Death of Marat  (amazing painting and last year I even got to see it in person.)

(The Death of Marat by Jacques-Louis David, 1793)

Really cool that you got to see it in person!

For some reason Machete gets compared to this painting quite often, especially if there's a bath involved. Even if he's just. Chilling in the tub, very much not dead.

[chaoticretwtau]

[signanothername]

Reading your head canon, I am surprised that each Murder agreed to work with Nightmare instead of a duel to death and be passively aggressive instead of fully aggressive and non-compliant, and use any knowledge of Nightmare and Killer to hit them where it hurts. Since Nightmare cannot destroy AUs like Error, Murder's only fear would be his own death, not due to the pain, but because of his own self-penance to haunt Dusttale alone and stop the human. Like when he is "recruited" by Nightmare or as you mention in your head canon, brought back by Killer, I would still think Murder would make sure the fights either end with his win or his death. After all, Murder values his autonomy and freedom. Because even if Murder is an adaptive, intelligent tactician, he is still a mortal compared to Nightmare, he would realize he has reached a dead end, so death is the only option, compared to working with two people that remind of the human that he hates. Well, the only reason I see Murder pretending to be compliant is to probably plan a betrayal and join Dream, as Dream is the only weapon against Nightmare, maybe even try to train him, because he doesn't care about Dream, but Nightmare is as bad or worse than the human, so by Murder's logic, he should be put down. Otherwise he has no ability to travel home or power to harm Nightmare, so as mentioned above death is the only other option. Over all, it could be argued that every Murder!Sans has a lot of reasons to defy or fight Nightmare, even if it causes his death. Plus I still think Murder vs Killer wouldn't be so one sided for Killer, since Murder, as Sans spent more time improving his skills during the resets compared to the loads Killer, as Sans spent fighting Chara over and over. So beside loading, I still think Murder might have an edge in battle experience and intelligence.

The ask Anon is referring to for context <33

Oh Murder was not compliant, not at all Anon, in fact, that’s exactly why I think Murder gets replaced the most, it’s because of how non-compliant he is, I don’t think Murder would ever agree to join the gang, I never said he would

You’ll notice I only talked about his passive aggressiveness with Killer specifically in the Murder Time Trio ask, and in fact, do talk about how Murder would pry into Killer’s private matters all just to piss him off, I never went on about Murder’s relationship with Nightmare in depth

And I didn’t go in depth cause the previous ask was for the Murder Time Trio as a whole, and their relationship with each other, so I couldn’t just talk about Murder in depth or in much detail as I wanted cause otherwise I would’ve absolutely diverted from the main point of that ask

But now that I have this beautiful ask I can actually go in depth as much as I want >:)

And you’re absolutely right that Nightmare can’t destroy AUs, the most Nightmare could do is lay waste to the Au, but Dusttale is already a wasteland so nothing much Nightmare could do there, that’s exactly why I say that Murder would try his luck and run back to his Au (and continue on doing it over and over), and it’s exactly why I say that Nightmare struggles with controlling Murder the most, cause Nightmare has no true power over him mentally, Murder doesn’t care about dying by Nightmare’s hand and he knows he could try his luck as much as Nightmare’s patience allows

Murder would definitely perfer death over being under Nightmare, cause if he can’t be useful enough to save his Au from the human what’s the point?

In fact allow me to be bold and say that I wholeheartedly believe Murder is also the hardest to “recruit” by Nightmare, cause I genuinely believe that in some timelines, the Murder that was supposed to be recruited by Nightmare just offed himself before Nightmare could get ahold of him, cause again, better death than be taken away from his Au, something that Nightmare has grown wise to and usually tries to knock Murder out before he tries such extreme measures, then later Nightmare controls Murder in certain ways once he’s got Murder under him

But here’s the thing, when we talk about Murder and Nightmare’s relationship, only looking at one side of the coin (in this context Murder) is missing the point in my humble opinion, cause yes, Murder does prefer death, and yes Murder would be aggressive and noncompliant, but how does Nightmare deal with that? Cause in every relationship there are multiple sides to look at, not just one

Cause while Murder prefers death, wouldn’t it make sense to also believe that Murder would want to preserve his life to be able to get back to his Au and stop the human? I mean Murder cares this much about his Au doesn’t he?

And that’s exactly why I previously mentioned Nightmare’s emotional/mental manipulation tactics, Nightmare knows Murder would try to preserve his life IF he has hope he can get back to his Au, so Nightmare LETS Murder get back to his Au from time to time, all to give Murder the false hope that he can get away, that false hope contributes to Murder thinking that death isn’t the only way out, further lengthening Murder’s stay under Nightmare, all while Nightmare uses the “you can go back to your Aus” card as some sort of reward for “good work”, to condition Murder to (very reluctantly) work for Nightmare to get this “reward”, all while “bad behavior” aka Murder trying to run back to his Au on his own (which literally doesn’t work cause Murder doesn’t have the ability to hop between Aus) means Nightmare punishes Murder by forbidding him from going to his Au, which usually ends with Murder clawing at Nightmare, which only further worsens his punishment

So as time goes on you can imagine Nightmare understanding Murder enough to be able to get to a point in which he can condition Murder enough so he becomes a bit less hostile just to get his chances to get back to his Au, only to be dragged back by Killer when Nightmare deems Murder has had enough “home time”

And here’s an interesting question, why won’t Nightmare go himself to get Murder back from his Au? It’ll be a lot easier and less time and source consuming wouldn’t it?

And to me? No it’s not cause he’s an all mighty King and he just sits on his ass doing nothing and lets his underlings do the dirty work for him (cause while i believe Nightmare deems some things as “beneath him” I despise the idea that Nightmare is an absolute lazy bitch that doesn’t do anything but monologue, which is why I interpret Nightmare my own way) in fact, I like to think Nightmare is so fucking obsessed with being in control, that in fact he’s sure to keep everything under his watchful eye, he knows every little thing about his prey (in this instance it’s the Murder Time Trio) he knows what they do, how, and when, he knows every little weakness and every little strength they hold, he understands them to the littlest detail in order to keep control over them

And in my interpretation of Nightmare, sending Killer instead of going himself is just another manipulation tactic, Nightmare knows Murder would be a bit confident in his ability to fight (and even win) against Killer, something that he won’t believe if it was Nightmare himself that came to get him, it further engraves that false hope that Murder can get away one day, if (or “when” in Murder’s view) he wins against Killer

Which brings me to the question, is Killer vs Murder one sided for Killer? No I don’t believe it is, in fact I agree that Murder has spent his time refining his skills and experience, however, let’s not forget Killer also is just as intelligent as Murder is, I for one think Killer and Murder are almost on bar with each other in terms of who wins or loses

I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m not biased towards Killer, cause I definitely am, it’s very obvious that he’s my favorite, so please don’t take my interpretation as an objective correct analysis of their fight, i’ll be simply talking from my humble (very biased) opinion

However if we think logically, Killer has a few things Murder doesn’t, and these would be 1-inability to recognize his body’s limit, 2-his soul’s stages, and 3-a much higher LV than Murder’s

Murder is at LV 19 mostly, Killer, while Rahafwabas has stated they’ll leave it up to interpretation, has been shown in a comic to have a glitched LV of 99999, which in my opinion makes sense considering the Determination Killer’s soul holds, and it automatically means that Killer’s stronger than Murder (if we wanted to get technical at least)

But I don’t like technicalities in analysis of fights so that brings me to the points I’m actually interested in

Something to keep in mind, is that Killer is also just as intelligent as Murder is, Killer’s mind moves just as quick as his body moves, he improvises mid battle and is generally very unpredictable, and to top it all off, Killer fights dirty, he uses any means necessary, and he doesn’t rely on raw power, but on his mind to win

Killer is also extremely observant and has a tendency to study people under a microscope, all while pretending he’s the stupidest most idiotic bitch you ever met, so Killer probably has Murder’s weaknesses memorized and probably already studied Murder enough to know how to deal with him during a battle

Not to mention, if we talk about how much experience each of them holds, then it’s really up for interpretation, cause listen, in my interpretation, I believe Murder has amazing experience, but you’re also talking about Killer, who worked under Nightmare before any of the others, meaning Killer not only has just as much experience, but Killer’s experience is vast and varied, as he fights a variety of people from completely different Aus, with different levels of powers/ intelligence, all while Murder only fights the same people under the same circumstances over and over (then again, this is really up for interpretation, your interpretation of whether Killer worked under Nightmare first or not could be different, i’m only talking from my own point of view, it’s not a hard fast truth or a correct objective interpretation, so please feel free to disagree <333)

Killer (at stage 2) doesn’t recognize his body’s limits, he in fact, thrives on pain, Killer could literally reach the point where his body would collapse at any second and yet still fight like it’s nothing, he’ll go beyond that point, Murder won’t, once Murder’s body reaches its limit it’ll immediately mean he lost, cause Killer won’t stop until A-his mission is complete and he dragged Murder back, or B-he’s dead, there’s no in between for stage 2 Killer

Which brings me to the point you mentioned which is the loading, whether Killer can save and load is really up for interpretation, cause as far as I know, there’s no canonical info on whether he can save and load, but I for one, believe he can, and how long can Murder hold his own against Killer before Murder reaches his limit? When Killer holds the same power the human (who Murder keeps losing to) holds?

Another thing to keep in mind is Killer’s stages, they provide a great advantage in terms of fighting, cause while I believe Murder can absolutely hold his own against stage 2 Killer, I don’t believe he’ll have much advantage against stage 3 Killer, and he sure as hell will not ba able to keep up against a stage 4 Killer, now whether Murder would trigger Killer enough to reach stage 3 and 4 is really up to you and what you like to think, I for one think if Murder knew about Killer’s stages, he’d be smart enough not to trigger Killer to reach those stages cause he would know he won’t win if Killer did reach them, however if Murder doesn’t know about his stages, then the possibility of Murder triggering Killer into stage 3 or 4 on accident is possible, which will not end on a good note for Murder

All that aside, do I believe that Killer always wins against Murder? No not at all, I actually like to believe that sometimes Killer wins, other times Murder wins, and other times? Killer had taken his sweet time trying to get Murder who was holding his own pretty well, that Nightmare shows up himself to take care of it (usually Nightmare would be very pissed at both of them, resulting in Killer and Murder paying grave consequences)

As for Murder working with Dream, I honestly can’t see Murder having the patience to actually work with him, cause each second he spends with Dream is another second away from his Au, and I believe Murder is smart enough to know Nightmare isn’t very easy to take down, other than the raw power and intelligence Nightmare holds, if Dream was truly able to take him down Murder would think Dream would’ve already done it, Murder is intelligent enough to recognize working with Dream would be a waste of time and effort that could’ve been used on much more important matters (such as getting back to his Au)

The only reason I’d see Murder making contact with Dream at all is to only request that Dream open a portal to his Au, only to realize whoops!! Dream can’t open a portal to a place filled with negativity, which only would frustrate the shit outta Murder

Murder’s circumstance really makes me sad ngl, the guy just wants to be back home dammit 😔

[arthursfuckinghat]

Arthur has had a lot of bad close encounters, like Sonny, but sometimes I think we don't talk enough about the whole Edmund Lowry Jr thing.

Arthur was stalked by an absolutely terrifying sadistic serial killer and led to his hideout via multiple mutilated bodies and cryptic clues placed across high traffic areas on the map.

If you choose to find Lowry in his hideout, you will see a gruesome display of many body parts and carcasses strung up like christmas decorations all over the place. Arthur will get knocked out by Lowry after venturing in further and tied to the ground, he will then threaten and taunt Arthur with a knife once he wakes up.

This all happens in the span of like five minutes, and how did Arthur escape? He had to throw a severed head that was on the ground next to him at Lowry. And if being stalked, knocked out, kidnapped, threatened, exposed to a gross display of mutilated bodies, tied up and examined like a piece of meat wasn't enough, Arthur had to save Sheriff Malloy from getting his face bitten off by that sick freak too.

I mean, holy fuck right?

The only justice was being able to shoot Lowry, but he had killed so many people and he took pride in that, shooting wasn't enough. Sadistic is honestly an understatement, it's shown through newspaper clippings in the hideout that he enjoyed toying with his victims for long periods of time before murdering them. An article by the missing poster for a woman named Eliza Bloom in his basement stated that he enjoys his victims like 'trophies' - And Arthur was scarily close to becoming another one of them.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't write about the encounter in much detail.

"Found the murderer, man named Edmund Lowry. Took him into the sheriff in Valentine after he nearly killed me. He jumped the sheriff. I killed him. Nasty bastard he was."

[a-whispering-echo]

horror is having an actual soul attack in that last frame

[coockie8]

"I'm not spoon-feeding morals you should 100% already have established if you're over the age of 5 to you." LOUDER FOR THE IDIOTS IT THE BACK 📢📢📢📢

Look, if you have cognitive disabilities or whatever that make you incapable of distinguishing fiction from reality, then that sucks, and I truly do feel for you.

But at the same time if you're over the age of like 12 and still need a book to tell you rape and murder are bad, then maybe you just shouldn't be reading books that are about rape and murder ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

Like I'm sorry, but if you know you have a tendency to act out what you read, then you should know better than to read morally grey books that don't word-for-word tell you that the actions taken by the morally grey characters within are bad and you shouldn't emulated them. Your mental illness does not absolve you of the responsibility of your actions, actually. I know, shocking.

Unfortunately this will limit you to media designed for children, because media designed for adults is going to go in assuming you already know not to act out bad things that you read.

[aka-indulgence]

So... me and @llamagoddessofficial have been cooking up an au for a while... let me show you our hmf!Sans :> (Horror Mafiafell Sans)

You're a waitress working at a bar/restaurant, and a certain skeleton has been coming back again and again. You can't help but wonder... why?

---

“He’s all yours, babe.”

You look up from notes on the wall. You’d like to ask ‘who?’ but both you and Lisa know there was no use. You already knew who it was. You didn’t even have to look out the circular window to check. You just stare at Lisa helplessly.

“Really?” You try, “can’t you just… a bit longer?”

Your words come out a perfect mess. Lisa understands anyway.

“Look… I don’t know how to tell you this (Y/n),” She puts a hand on her hip, “you know I can’t go back out there to him.”

“But…!”

You bite your lip. You know she’s telling the truth. You wish you could tell her to suck it up and go back there, no matter how scared she was but… you’re not taking chances with the current patron sitting in the corner of the bar. No one would.

For Lisa’s… and everyone’s sake, you’re not going to see what he might do if you sent her out to tell him that you won’t be serving him tonight.

You sigh, and take a peek through the window. Though elusive nowadays, it was unmistakable who the man- the skeleton in question was.

Sans was built like a tank, his form hunched over the table. Even sitting on the wide, plush red sofa, he looked like a giant, dwarfing the table and chairs like they were playsets. Monsters were already bigger than humans in general but him… he grew bigger than he used to- at least from what you’ve heard. Not like you knew the mob boss years and years ago before he got his infamous skull injury, and the blown eye in his left socket that was soaked in the blood of those who had crossed him. His mouth was set in a frown, filled with razor sharp teeth- one of which was golden.

The same scary face you saw shrouded in shadows in the alleyway, a sharp bone gripped in his large hand, dripping red.

You fled that night, not quite believing what you’d saw. That you’d just saw a skeleton kill a guy in the back of the restaurant? That it was the mob boss Sans?! He didn’t chase you then, and you hoped that’d be the end of it but then… he showed up to the bar as a patron one night.

You were almost certain then, that he had come to kill you. Especially when your dear friend Lisa had so helpfully told you that he’d asked for you in particular.

“her…” his bony finger had pointed at you. She DID tried to save you, to err on mistake- which one did you mean sir?

But every time you moved, his phalange followed. There was no mistaking who he was asking for.

You remember her panicked voice.

“He asked for you! Specifically!”

“W… huh? Why’d he ask for me? Can… are you sure-”

“YES! And I don’t know WHY!”

As reluctant as you were, you still went to serve him. You asked for his order while your grip on your pencil and notepad got slippery as your palms got sweaty. He took his time ordering, perusing through the menu with great attention, while you were praying that your legs didn’t looks as shaky as they felt. You’d never rush him, of course, even if you hadn’t seen him towering over a dead body.

You took his order, served it (stuttering), and… then he left.

… And came back. Again, and again. Every time, he’d ask for you to serve him. He always stares when you weren’t at his table (and actually, when you were at his table too). You could feel that red eye staring a hole into your back from behind. It was unnerving.

It’s a wonder why a man of his infamy would choose a bar like this. You’ve seen your fair share of criminals in this job- it was an alright-sized bar, and not exactly in the best place in town. You’ve learnt to turn the other cheek whenever they were around (and you were sure you didn’t realize just how many of the patrons were gangsters), pretend you were blind to their… occupation.

None of them had been as scary as Sans, though. In fact, his presence alone was enough to drive away most petty criminals.

This place was nothing special. It’s a wonder why he’d choose this place out of all places, especially for a guy who doesn’t like being seen much.

… Ok, that was a lie. Everyone working knew that he was here for you. But that didn’t explain the why.

It was clear to you now that he wasn’t coming here to kill you for witnessing… what you witnessed (Why was a man like Sans doing in that nothing alleyway anyway?). But if not for that then… why did he keep coming, to keep asking for you? Maybe he had… business around here and he liked the place enough to keep coming?

Whatever it was, he was here for a reason and you just… don’t get it.

You don’t get why he wants you to be the one serving him every time he was around, but you did anyway. It’s been a couple of nights now, but you can’t say you’ve become less nervous over time.

After a small inner pep talk to yourself and wringing your hands, you push open the door, walking into the dining area. There isn’t a lot of people inside, a common occurrence whenever Sans visited. Even if it had been busy before, some people would hurriedly finish up whatever they were doing, paying all at once and leaving. You’ve even seen someone stop before finishing their meal. The rest that stayed sat uncomfortably, trying their best to ignore the menacing air that the skeleton brought with him everywhere he’d go.

It didn’t work, of course. A presence like that wasn’t you could easily ignore.

(You wish you could ignore him.)

You smile awkwardly as you walk to his table, setting his drink down. At least you had a little bit of your work cut out for you, with Lisa taking his drink order. His eye zeroed in on you as soon as he noticed you, and though you’ve been taught it’s rude to not make eye contact, with him it felt like looking him in the eye would be the wrong thing to do.

“Is there anything else you’d like?” you ask, your voice sweet and soft as ever, hiding the sound of your beating heart.

He stares.

He always stares.

You see his pupil dilate a little, then he opens his mouth.

“want…”

Sans was a man of few words. He only said his order, and nothing else. It kept your meetings with him brief- even when it looked like he wanted to say something else, he wouldn’t.

This time, he spaces off for a moment, eye looking away from you. You watch his brows draw together, pinched as he concentrates on a thought. You wish you knew what he was thinking of, especially when his frown starts to peel back into a snarl, like he was angry.

You definitely weren’t expecting a hand around your waist, snatching you a second later.

You squeaked, notepad and pencil clattering to the floor, bumping against his sturdy chest. Everyone heard and turned to look, and as soon as they saw tiny you, sitting on the giant’s lap, practically all of them pointedly turned away. You wish they were still looking now- you were pleading with your eyes, help me I don’t think I’m supposed to be here!

He pushes you here and there, so that you’re sat more comfortably on his lap. Your mind goes blank, your body freezes. You could feel his chest expanding and contracting as he breathes. He sounds much calmer now that you were on his lap. Your breaths are shallow, and stop completely when you feel one arm wrap around your middle, like a restraint. His free hand raises, calling for Lisa, who you’ve just noticed is watching from the corner, clutching her apron, as clueless as you are. She approaches, trying to keep her eyes on the skeleton instead of you.

“... burgers.” he says, simply. She nods, and gives you a glance.

You furrow your brows, and you want to hiss Lisa help me! But as soon as she sees your expression she turns around, avoiding eye contact. You could almost hear her say sorry babe, can’t help you there!

You almost call out to her when a hand lands on your head. You go stiff, and after you take a quick peek at him, you look straight ahead. The monster’s phalanges start petting you, slowly, sinking into your hair, scratching your scalp. Sans let’s out a long breath, brushing your hair. A shiver runs down your neck.

… Well. I think I’ll be here for a while…

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

Sitting on the lap of a giant skeleton was certainly an experience. You tried distracting yourself, but it was impossible when you could feel every time Sans breathed. There was nothing you could do but sit there, playing with your apron until it was a crumpled mess, sweating a puddle onto your uniform… and maybe onto Sans’ expensive suit. You couldn’t relax, even though taking away big scary skeleton aside, he was comfortable to sit on, and he was warm… and smelled of rain and embers of a dying cigar.

He ate carefully, always leaning forward (squishing you against his chest) when he took a bite of his burger, making sure the crumbs wouldn’t fall on the top of your head, wiping his hands and his mouth before he leaned back. You could feel him sighing, and since he was the only thing you could notice, it felt like this was the most relaxed he’s ever been while in the bar, his breathing slow. Apparently he really liked your hair, with how his claws kept carding through it, even while he was eating. When his hands were clean, he’d let his hands wander all over you- but nothing untoward. You could feel him tilting his skull forward to look at you, while he thumbed your cheek, and his other hand roamed around your waist and belly. Though you were nervous, you could feel when he rubbed your thigh that it didn’t feel particularly… heated.

He sighs, and you feel the pressure of his skull on the top of your head. It took everything in you not to hunch over and avoid it. You screw your eyes shut when you feel him turn his skull, and it felt like he was… rubbing his cheek on you? Like he was snuggling you? Is… is that what he’s doing?

You’re not sure and your nerves are too frayed to call it that.

He didn’t stop after he finished either, his plate clean. He was still there- and subsequently, you stayed sitting on his lap- even after they closed the bar. It was just him now. Your coworkers kept the lights on just for him, and even most of them have gone.

He’s leaning back on the cushions, and he brought both his arms around you to pull you plush against his chest, almost tucked into his neck. You wondered if this was what a teddy bear would feel like, being hugged.

The bartender was cleaning up in the kitchen. It was just you and him in the dining area.

You swallowed… wondering what he wants to do. It’s past closing, late at night, just the two of you, and his hands were still (gently) rubbing you. They haven’t gone anywhere private but- what if he wanted to? … What if he wasn’t here to kill you but.. wanted you to… you don’t know, service him or something? Did he have unsavory requests for you?

You think that thought might’ve scared you even more than the thought of him killing you.

You startle when he grunts eventually, like he’s addressing you. A giant hand cups your cheeks and against your will they turn pink. Even though you were frightened, even if his touches were unsexual they still felt… intimate.

You squeak for the second time that night when both his hands pick you up, and sets you down on the sofa. You feel a ball form in your throat when he stands up and turns to you, thoughts running with all sorts of ‘what-ifs’. He takes your hand, opening it up, and then…

And then he places a thick wad of cash in it.

“... thank you.” He says, quiet.

You stare at the stack of paper on top of your hand, blinking once, before turning to the skeleton, jumping in your seat.

He was gone, just like that.

He was always quiet, wasn’t he?

You sit there dumbfounded, for what felt like minutes, your lips parted, money still sitting innocently in your hand. You think no one can blame you when the only thing you said after you sat there in silence was a very emphatic “... Huh?”

[tyrianludaship]

Me seeing people on twitter talking about morally grey characters like they're completely irredeemable and makes them abusive rapists as a result even though the bad actions they've done is only comparable to a Wile E. Coyote cartoon skit but gorier:

[darby-rowe]

ULTRA.

❛ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐫𝐬. 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬. ❜

dark!peacekeeper!snowjanus x fem!district!reader — a miniseries of ficlets and oneshots

✝ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✝

warning. this series will contain dark and disturbing subject matter such as noncon and murder, along with heavy and graphic smut. many, many, many dead doves afoot. MDNI. proceed with caution.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

I. THE BOTTOM LINE [soon...] II. INSIGHT [soon...] III. SURRENDER [soon...] IV. IT'S NO GOOD [soon...] V. THE LOVE THIEVES [soon...] VI. BARREL OF A GUN [soon...]

featured painting in header: Desdemona, 1871. Alexandre Cabanel

darby-rowe, 2024. do not plagiarize my content, nor distribute my content onto any other website like AO3, etc. my writing is exclusive to tumblr only.

[dubiousdisco]

they should have burned lionel luthor at the stake

[melissa-titanium]