#deadprem

[sluttywizardcowboy]

your honor that pussy was boots

[mossymeep]

not sure if I want to color this but for now

[unit3947]

lol when diane says “she’s always like that” about carol when they’re arguing, i love the implication that diane has somehow been at her ire like why are you, a 30 year old woman, constantly being yelled at by a near teenager… that’s so big sister coded

[michaeltillotson]

Gift for the low effort secret santa over on the DeadPrem server!

[carolmaclaine]

if I made a post (this is the post) asking if any of the deadprem folk who follow me have any music that reminds them of the game or certain characters to share them with me, and that I would love to hear them, would anyone be willing to do so ?

if it wasn't obvious by my posts, a majority of my art generation comes from listening to music in my car on my work commute (it's like 45 minutes each way) but lately I haven't had much to inspire me u_u

[itsdafuckhause]

dragon age au for my retired deadprem oc, absinthe

[annelise-draws]

The Beheading of King George (heavily referenced from Artemisia Gentileschi’s Judith Slaying Holofernes) Commissioned by @feralnoble!

[shazzbaa]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE have a, um, t-terrifying phantom crawling across the ceiling to try to strangle Agent York...??? TIS THE SEASON!!!!!!!!!

Realtalk this is my piece for @shutendouji for the Deadly Premonition Secret Santa this year!! She mentioned really liking the wall ladies so oBVIOUSLY that’s what I had to draw. .....in retrospect I REALLY hope there wasn’t some other kind of wall lady in deadly prem that I’m forgetting xD but either way I HOPE U LIKE IT I had a lot of fun with this one!!

Big thanks to @michaeltillotson for putting this whole thing together btw!! I’m delighted that there’s a fan exchange for this weird game I love so much!

[meme-queen-lucy]

York’s Christmas (Deadly Premonition Fan Exchange 2019) I hope you like it! I had so much fun drawing this. I also added the transparent file to do whatever you want with. @thesmilingtroublemaker

[kani-champi]

For @lookinlikeaking , here is a deadly premonition gift from the secret santa, a punk young York, hope you like it ! Merry christmas !

[sluttywizardcowboy]

local autistic tgirl running that bar like it's the navy

[mossymeep]

thomas jumpscare

[unit3947]

i like to think nick is actually telling diane to stop sleeping with so many men to imply that she should be sleeping with women instead, more specifically.. his wife.

[michaeltillotson]

With brackets being popular atm I’m thinking I might run a DeadPrem character bracket? Or even a hideously huge Swery character bracket...

[carolmaclaine]

I backed a kickstarter a while ago for some ita bags, and I got to pick them up today, which means I can sort of make myself a deadprem based bag now ehehe

[theangelofhorrors]

The Opossum (Deadly Premonition Fan Exchange 2019)

Summary: Polly asks York to help out with a pest problem at the hotel. It’s proving to be a little harder than catching the usual suspects.

Word Count: 1331 words

A/n: He have class, he give sass, but most importantly he scream at own ass.

Okay but seriously......

For the Deadly Premonition Fan Exchange/Secret Santa, I got @meme-queen-lucy. I heard you like opossums (a word I’m slowly still learning how to spell), so hopefully you’ll like this too. I also legit thought about making an opossum a deputy of Greenvale because I thought was something Swery would do lol. Too bad that didn’t make the final cut.

Also a special thanks to @michaeltillotson for beta-ing for me. I absoltutely appreicate anyone who takes the time to look at any of my stuff. Thank you again for helping me out. You are also the person who had set up this whole exchange thing for such a weird, niche game. This one’s for you too.

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“This isn’t what I expected when I signed up for the FBI. Isn’t that right, Zach?”

It was nearly 9 am and the rain spattered with rhythmic force against the window pane in the dining hall.

With a half empty cup of coffee, York was thinking about what Polly had said moments ago,  before they finished breakfast and she excused herself from the table.

“Agent Morgan, if it’s not too much trouble…”

“What is it, Polly?”

There was an infestation problem in the hotel.

“But don’t you worry, it’s nothing too serious.”

It was an opossum. Just the one.

“Just the one?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

She mentioned that she had spotted this particular little thing digging around the trash cans outside the hotel over the past few days. At first, she paid no attention to it. Animals never bothered Polly, especially not living in this part of the country. It reminded her of the times she and her husband had gone out on hikes through the woods many years ago. They took many photos of themselves with nature and her companions with a polaroid she still had in her possession.

However, this little rascal made it through the door.

This...could cause some issues with the hotel and its guests.

What to do…?

“Again, Agent Morgan, if it isn’t too much trouble. I’m much too old and slow to do it myself.”

“Of course, Polly. I’ll see what I can do. It’s just one possum. How hard could it be?”

Polly also made sure that he would not kill the animal once he found it.

Possums. They’re like raccoons or oversized rats. No different than any pest York had met in the city. Plus, it should be easier to catch this than any of the criminals he had pursued.  

Why didn’t I listen to you, Zach?

That was three days ago…

“Having a hard time there, Agent York?”

It was Emily. She was completing eating it up alongside lunch at the sheriff’s department.

“An agent of the bureau can’t catch one little possum.”

York rolled his eyes.

Just like grade school…

“I’m an officer of the law, Emily. I catch people, not animals. I’m not a hunter.”

“I know you’re not,” she smiled. He didn’t mind the sight of her like this, especially during this horrid investigation, but not at his expense. “But it’s pretty funny that you’re having so much trouble. Have you thought about asking for help? Maybe Thomas knows something about possums.”

Dammit, why haven’t we thought about that before?

Thomas did in fact know something about possums.

“Well, first off, it’s ‘opossum’ and not possum.”

“What’s the difference?” York shrugged.

“Only that opossums live here in North America while possums live in Australia.”

During another break in the late afternoon, near evening, Thomas went deep into detail about what he knew about them.

They are not rodents, but marsupials, and have pouches to carry their young. They have opposable thumbs and use their tails to grasp things.

“They have a vast diet too,” he mentioned, “and by that, I mean they’ll eat anything, including garbage. Every so often we get a call from someone asking if we could remove one from their trash bins.”

“I didn’t know the sheriff’s department handled animal control.”

“We don’t. We just don’t have anyone else to handle it. It’s a small town after all.”

After some further consultation, by the time the day was over and everyone had said their good nights, York was brainstorming his plan.

“I think, Zach,” he said on the drive back to the hotel, “we’ll need a trap of sorts. Maybe we could use the snacks we’ve collected in our room. We need a box or a cage or something like that…” The car neared Greenvale’s edge by the waters, the moon a bright crescent in a lonely sky.

He chuckled.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t turn out like Mouse Trap. Remember, Zach? 1997. I’m not planning on becoming Chris Walken here.”

It was nearing 8 by the time he made it to the hotel. He greeted Polly by the front desk and asked about her day. The television playing in the background droned on about tomorrow’s forecast as she answered.

“I saw that darn opossum again. He scurried past me in the kitchen earlier today. I think I saw him go down one of the corridors here. God knows where he is now. I hope he isn’t making a mess in one of my rooms.”

“Don’t worry about it, Polly. I’ve been hatching up a plan to catch the thing. By tomorrow morning, I’ll get a trap set up.”

Naturally, Polly was delighted to hear this.

After a late dinner, York said his good night to Polly before heading to his room.

“If I have to be honest, Zach, all I can think about is whether I should shower now or in the morning.”

With a yawn and his eyelids drooping, the agent opened the door to his hotel room. He took off his suit jacket, his hands slipping out the sleeves, and went to shut the door behind him and find the light switch.

That’s when he noticed the crumbs on the floor.

He almost missed it.

They were as plain as day in the light under York’s sleepy gaze. They looked like bread or cookie crumbs and they made a trail that led to the bed, just a few feet away. Near the foot of the bed, crumbs and various other scraps of food and packaging were scattered in a mess around the suitcase he had brought his clothes in. The suitcase itself was open and on the floor. His shirts and pants were scattered, thrown around the floor. 

By now, York was wide awake, gun in hand.

Each careful step warranted a wide sweep of the eyes across every possible hiding place.

A hotel room is an odd place to rob. Not to mention the fact that nothing looked to be stolen. The only item that was out of place was the suitcase. Nothing else was opened or turned over. What was the motive behind this strange crime scene?

There was a squeak, like one of a small animal, and York’s arm snapped forward, hands ready to fire his gun. 

By the far side of the bed, near the windows, one of his shirts had piled up. However, there was something hiding underneath it. It was rising and falling, like the rhythm of someone’s breath.

With a nimble hand, the other remaining on the gun, he went to pluck the shirt away.

There in the open was the opossum. And he appeared to be asleep.

That, or he had eaten too much, and was or on the verge of passing out in front of the agent in his own room. He laid on his side, little pink paws outstretched, tail curled against him, and tongue out on the floor, drooling himself a pool of spit. His eyes were half open, and his ears twitched every so often.

“Well, Zach,” York sighed, putting his gun back in his holster, “looks like we found the little rascal.”

Despite himself, York poked the animal with a pen from his pocket. He obviously wasn’t dead, but he definitely wasn’t quite conscious. He let out another squeak upon contact with the pen.

“He must have found my stash of snacks. That’s what I get for hiding them in my suitcase. Better call Thomas.”

He got up and headed for the phone.

The opossum remained where he was and continued his nap on the floor, gurgling into his little puddle of drool, while York dialled.