#every day we get closer to me posting straight up cannibalism

[melenthropy]

From now until death, am I going to live by eating kindness?

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty Two♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty Two Warnings: profanity, mentions of blood Visit my pinned post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty Two]

You wiped the blood spattered across your cheek, and it spread across your skin. Velvette smirked at seeing you, taking back the spear you held out to her, your face emotionless.

“Another successful day staking claim to territory?” She asked. You nodded wordlessly, stepping into your bedroom, then the en suite. She followed you, grabbing every bloodied article of clothing you peeled off and tossed.

“Turn around,” you said bluntly. “I’m taking my bra and underwear off now.”

Velvette turned. “So. Revenge.”

You sank into the hot water. “Yes, revenge.” You combed your fingers through your hair. “You can turn around now. Just keep your eyes-“ you flipped a finger to your face. “-Up here, dolly.”

Velvette spun around clumsily, face turning bright red. “Right, right.” She rested her elbows on the side of the tub, watching as you poured shampoo into your open palm. “So, who exactly are we getting revenge on?”

“We?” You said dryly. “It’s me who’s getting revenge. You three stay out of it.”

Vel sighed, drumming her fingers on the side of the bathtub. “Right, right. But who?”

You bit your lip. You weren’t even sure you wanted revenge- the more time you’d had to think about it, the less you trusted Alastor. But if you wanted to be sure about anything, you needed either Alastor or Lucifer in front of you. You needed to talk to them face-to-face. You’d only told the Vees you wanted revenge in a fit of angry passion- but you needed to take things slow, to find out the truth first. 

Being an overlord would be an asset either way. Your eyes slid to Velvette, who was looking at you expectantly. And if the Vees ever became a problem, you could just send them to whatever came after Hell. 

“No one yet,” you murmured slowly, full of thought. “But maybe once I find myself some answers.”

Velvette nodded. “And that is…?”

“I need to speak with Lucifer Morningstar.”

Velvette’s mouth turned into an ‘o’ shape, but one look at your face and she pressed her lips shut, pushing down all the questions. She stood up. “Well, there’s towels, I’ll send over your clothes, and, uh…” she sneaked a glance at you. “I’ll get going. Bye babes.”

“Bye. Vel.”

The door shut. 

-

“[name].”

You’d wiped off another smatter of blood from your face, stood over the now-dead overlord before you, as your eyes swept over the newly claimed territory, when you heard the familiar voice that sent your mind and body into overload. You snatched the spear up, pointing it straight in between Lucifer’s eyes.

“You take one step closer and I will make mincemeat of you.” You licked your lips. “Did you know cannibals quite like the taste of angels?”

Lucifer pushed the blade away from his face. “You talk as if I’m not ten times stronger than you,” he said slowly, eyes locked onto yours, “or as if you’re not an angel yourself.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not really any more, am I?”

“Well, we all have choices, angel.”

Your lip curled, and you looked away. “Whatever,” you muttered, lowering the spear. “What do you want from me?”

“To talk.” You looked up, and his face was pleading now. It always shook you, the way he could look like he was toying with you in one moment then begging you the next.

“Go on, then, talk.”

“I-“ he choked up, then looked away. His eyes flicked back, and he reached out. “C-can I touch you? Please, I… I haven’t seen you in so lo-“

“No.” You struggled to fight the wavering in your voice. “Not yet, no. I’m sorry.”

“Angel, whatever the reason you may be angry at me for-“

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“And so do you!” He burst out, then took a deep breath. “Please, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” you sighed. 

“[name], I- did you really threaten to burn the hotel down?”

“I- what?” Your eyes widened with outrage, as you lifted the spear once more. “Why would you say that?”

“I know it’s not the first thing to start with, but I just need to know, for Charlie-“

“For Charlie?” You spat. “To Hell with her. Who do you- who does she- who do any of you think you are?”

He stepped back, a scowl blooming on his face. “[name], I’m not done talking.” 

“Well, I am. Maybe you shouldn’t have started with an accusation of-“

“-It was a simple question-“

“-that I would never do-“

“[name], if you don’t start listening to me I swear to-“

“Who? God? The guy who fucking abandoned you? The guy who kicked you out of your only home-“

Lucifer pressed his lips together, fury blazing in his eyes, then his shoulders slumped. He reached his hand towards you. “[name], what- are you really… okay? I mean- I-“ He ran his hand through his hair. “What happened to you?”

You smacked his hand away, and he hissed, recoiling. Golden blood stained his white skin, where your now-sharp nails had cut into his flesh. Guilt bloomed fresh in your stomach, and tears sprang to your eyes as you stepped back, away from him, face crumpling. 

“You did.” 

“I- no, [name], I haven’t fini-“

“I’m done here.��� You turned around, wings spread. “I need to go. I- come find me again, and I’ll-“ you drew in a shuddery breath. “I’m not in the right state of mind to be having a level-headed conversation with you right now.” Your voice weakened. “I’m sorry.”

You spread your wings, preparing for flight. He didn’t object. You didn’t turn around to check if he was even still there anymore as you launched yourself into the red sky. 

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he wasn’t.  

-

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You dragged your hand across your scalp, letting out a broken sob as the spear clattered to the floor. What the fuck was wrong with you? Why would you hurt him like that? Every time you closed your eyes, the image of his crestfallen face, cradling his hand, appeared in your mind. You were so prepared to just pick up the spear and drive it through your heart. 

The guilt was gnawing away at you until you would be nothing but an empty shell of all your mistakes. 

You took in a deep shuddery breath. But that wasn’t all. Instead of explaining everything, giving you a chance to ask him about Alastor’s recording, he immediately accused you of something as barbaric as- you cut the thought short, pacing the room. Why should you feel guilty? For all you knew, everything Alastor had said was true.

You could have found out if you had stayed longer, but your emotions were so out of control you would have definitely caused irreparable damage in a violent fit of fury. Leaving was the wiser option. There was always next time.

But was there?

And, despite all that, you still felt undeniably guilty. You sank to the floor, putting your head in your hands. 

You missed him. 

You missed his stability, the way he’d be there for you every year, the touch of his hand, the brush of his lips, the way his fingertips would trace your skin. But now nothing was certain. He could very well be the monster Heaven had told you he was.

“[name]?” 

You looked up to see Velvette standing in the doorway. You sighed, looking back down. She padded over to you, hoisting you up. “It’s late, babes. You should go to sleep. You look…” her eyes flicked over you and she sighed. “Tired.”

“That’s an understatement,” you laughed, voice cracked and raspy with the toll of heavy emotions weighing down on every inch of you. She dragged you over to the bed.

“Sweet dreams, you goddamn bitch,” Velvette sighed. You chuckled, eyes barely open. 

“Sweet dreams, Vel.” 

A/N: did anyone notice the callback to chapter four?

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 22/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

I totally forgot to post this yesterday alksjdlksajkl

It's literally in my drafts but the day was too busy I honestly forgot. So here's a treat!

Also, I know there's a lot of mystery and questions of what's going on but I never planned to fully stay on the POVs of those in Heaven. I just wanted to give you guys a glimpse but I didn't want to tell it all.

You are all as clueless as Luci. Just as I intended hehe

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

Lucifer feels cursed. He can sense it. Even without Roo, he's certain that all this misfortune is deliberate. Given everything that has happened in the past few months, he didn't think it could get any worse.

He should've known not to jinx it.

Everyone jumped up, alarmed by the cannibal demon's frantic cries for help.

Outside, they were met with a chaotic battle as sinners and Hellborns fought against the supposedly dead angels. Both side have bodies that lay lifeless on the ground amidst the pandemonium.

Lucifer: What the fuck is going on?!

Cannibal Demon: We were piling the bodies up in the Embassy for burning, as you instructed, Your Majesty. But then—a body suddenly sprang back to life and attacked one of our workers! The next moment, we were all being attacked by the other bodies! They don't seem conscious, sire. They were snarling like rabid animals.

At that moment, an angel turned in their direction and charged straight at Lucifer. He extended his hand, and the angel burst into flames, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain until it died.

Charlie, the hotel residents, and the other Overlords sprang into action, fighting to kill as many angels as they could.

Lucifer saw what the cannibal demon was talking about. The angels didn't seem truly alive. Instead, they screamed and attacked blindly, targeting anything in their path. Their forms were as mangled as the one that had fallen before him.

Then an angel was tossed at his feet. It twitched but the body was too destroyed to attack again. It looked up at him with blank eyes, black liquid streaming down its face like tears. The angel reached a hand towards him and tried to speak.

Heaven Angel: K-k-ki- me. P-ease

Lucifer was too petrified with shock to even register what the angel was trying to say. Was it begging him to kill it?

The angel gasped and attempted to crawl closer until an axe buried itself in its head, instantly killing it. Lucifer looked up to see Adam standing there.

He wondered when Adam had arrived.

Adam: Dude! Snap out of it! The fuck are you doin'?? And what the shit is happening?

But Lucifer couldn't answer. He just stared at the first man blankly.

Lucifer: I thought you were at the palace?

Adam: Seriously?! Gah!

Adam swung his axe again, killing an angel that had gotten too close.

Adam: One of these fuckers got in and I'd rather not die in your stupid house!

Another swing, another fallen angel.

Lucifer: They're angels....

He saw Adam's gaze harden but he does not falter one bit.

Adam: Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are you gonna do something?!

Lucifer snapped out of his daze, the reality of the situation sinking in. He looked around, seeing the chaos unfold as his allies fought for their lives. Taking a deep breath, he summoned his strength and stepped forward.

Lucifer: Let's end this madness.

He extended his hand, conjuring flames to incinerate the embassy, illuminating Pride like a giant flaming beacon.

Lucifer: Toss them all into the fire!

Lucifer's voice boomed across the city, echoing with authority. Soon enough, angels were screaming as they were engulfed in flames.

He took to the sky, setting fire to every zom-angel he could see. Reminding himself that they were no longer their normal selves, he saw this as an act of mercy.

Lucifer flew higher, his eyes scanning the chaos below. He could see Charlie, the hotel residents, and the Overlords fighting fiercely, holding their ground against the onslaught. Each flame he conjured was a prayer for the end of this madness.

As he incinerated bodies left and right, a troubling thought gnawed at him: Was this still Roo's doing? The state of these angels bore a striking resemblance to the infected creatures he had encountered in Sloth.

Roo: Not me, fallen. Looks like someone upstairs messed with something they shouldn't have. How thrilling~

The voice startled Lucifer.

Lucifer: What are you talking about?!

Roo: Hell's not the only one harboring a dark entity.

He cursed her silently but the Root of All Evil just laughed.

Roo: Corruption is such a wonderful thing.

The battle continued, and it didn't take long for them to rid the area of the reanimated corpses. However, the toll was immense. Everyone was on the verge of collapsing. The relentless series of events in the past hour had drained their remaining strength. If Heaven were to attack now, they would be fighting for their very lives.

Lucifer landed, breathing heavily, his mind racing. The angels’ corrupted state pointed to something far more sinister than he initially thought. If Roo was telling the truth, then Heaven itself was compromised.

Charlie: Dad!

Lucifer: Char-char, you guys okay?

Charlie: We're all fine.

Adam: Speak for yourself, girlie.

Charlie was only slightly surprised by Adam's appearance but didn't question him.

Lucifer: Are we sure that's the last of them?

Charlie: Alastor has his shadows canvassing the city right now.

Lucifer looked around at the carnage, wondering how much more they could handle. Before he could think further, Adam spoke up again.

Adam: I know those angels.

Lucifer: What?

Adam: Most of these are my girls.

There was a hint of sadness in his voice. Despite being a misogynist douche, Lucifer realized Adam genuinely cared for the angels in his army.

Lucifer: Exorcists?

Adam: Yeah... shit, what the fuck is going on up there? Why did they turn into these things?

Lucifer had no answer, so he remained silent.

They see something twinkle in the sky, followed by a beam of light. Lucifer quickly raised his hand to create a barrier just in time to deflect the blast. Even he struggled against Michael's powerful weapon. Multiple blasts rained down, but they were erratic, not aimed directly at Hell.

Something in the distance was getting closer and closer, dodging left as another blast exploded nearby.

Was Michael aiming for that?

They couldn't tell what it was until it drew nearer. It was an angel, struggling against another as they plummeted. Soon, more angels came into view. A particularly strong blast from Michael shattered Lucifer's barrier, and they could only watch as more angels fell into Hell.

The war had arrived.

And there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Roo: Play time~

Lucifer should've known not to jinx it.

[fruityutas]

heart-shaped box

taglist ~ @puppywritings , @xiaojours , @svchengss , @prettyjaems​ 

part of @du0tine​ ‘s 21 ways to kill your lover collab

cannibal!stalker!sicheng x reader

not proofread

genre ~ horror, angst, suggestive but no smut

wc ~ 2.5k

warnings ~ the following writing is FICTION and has very heavy and unsettling themes like murder, stalking, and cannibalism. if these themes are triggering or otherwise uncomfortable to you, do NOT read this story.

synopsis ~ you meet sicheng unexpectedly when out for groceries. he seems to be the most normal person in the room, but what you don’t know can’t hurt you, can it?

the basis of all life is the heart. it beats so we can have oxygen delivered to our organs. it is precious and works hard to let us live. one must protect it at all costs, never let it weaken, not even from love.

sicheng walks the aisles of the store slowly, inspecting each item, analyzing its contents. he keeps his focus until it’s interrupted by a sweet voice. yours. “excuse me?” his gaze floats to meet yours. you stood before him, smiling shyly. “can i help you?” sicheng stands straight, his figure taller than you’d expected. “um, i just need help getting that box of cereal off the top shelf.” his eyes follow your arm up to the top shelf, the cereal clearly out of reach for you. he grabs it and hands it to you. “thank you so much! i really didn’t want to climb the shelves.” the giggle that accompanies your statement makes his ears turn red. sicheng is enthralled by you, your scent, the soft tendrils of hair cascading down your shoulders, your sweet smile. he feels the urge come up. one he hadn’t had in months. Obsession. sicheng knew he’d be seeing you more, he’d make sure of it. “it’s not a problem…” “oh! y/n, that’s my name.” you laugh awkwardly, the pause between him implying to ask your name a bit too long. he grins and nods before wishing you a good day. 

it hadn’t been hard to find your sns, a foreigner in mainland china was rare. the pictures you posted did no justice to what you truly looked like. you’d be a good addition to his collection of hearts stolen. he doesn’t follow you and doesn’t like any posts. he has to stay invisible for the time being. he finds out the college you attend and lurks there whenever possible to figure out your schedule. the first two days gives him what he needs, now he stays just to see you. sicheng eventually gets the gall to trek closer to the actual campus, sitting on the benches of the park on the edge of it. you spot him one day, waving at him. strike one. you make your way over to him and sit beside him. strike two. your compassion was going to be your downfall. “fancy seeing you here! are you a student?” sicheng knows better than to lie, so he says no. “i just like to sit at this park from time to time, it’s very relaxing.” you hum in response. “well, i have to get going to my next class, but it was pleasant seeing you again!” he nods and sends you off with a smile, but little do you know, he’s planning the main course for his next feast.

you see, sicheng and his six friends are all what some would call disgusting and horrible people. they don’t understand though, the delicacies of the human body. eating together brings you closer, but eating a person brings you impossibly close. but sicheng was a smart man, and he didn’t need people to call him disgusting, so he prefers to keep his tendencies in the closet. 

sicheng’s daily routine rarely changed. he got up, fed his cat, made breakfast, ate, showered, and went to work. though he didn’t need to work, his parents had left him an empire of wealth to live off. he got bored with no work, so he decided to use some of the said wealth to get a degree and use it. and what better degree than a doctorate in biology? he used it to his advantage, he knew the exact cuts to make, and how the body could be used. throughout his cannibalistic diet, he’d eaten nine people. sicheng had picky tastes, though. no minors, no one over 30, and absolutely no one he didn’t deem pretty enough. gender wasn’t an issue, sicheng admired both. his victims were unsuspecting, falling for his good looks and seemingly sweet personality. sicheng would usually bed them before killing them because while eating someone connects them to you, he felt as if sex powered it more. 

the next time sicheng sees you, it’s at the grocery store again. he uses this as his chance to try for your number. “fate really wants us to see each other huh?” you laugh at the coincidence. he gives a small chuckle back. “well since fate wants us to see each other, maybe i can take the chance and ask for your number?” his question takes you back, and you turn red in slight embarrassment. “well, of course you can, but i’m not looking for a relationship right now, so just friends?” annoyance spreads through sicheng, but he agrees nonetheless. this would make it hard but not impossible.

for the next week sicheng was texting you and gaining your trust. you’d agreed to meet up with him at a cafe for a “friend date” as he put it. he offers to pick you up, and you naively give him your address. sicheng is getting closer to what he wants, and it’s making him giddy. the outing goes well and sicheng takes you home. he lurks around that night, though, and sees you leave your house dressed up nicely. a car pulls up and a man gets out to greet you. sicheng’s blood boils. how were you not looking for a relationship when clearly you were going on a date with this man?

the entire night, sicheng watches and follows your every move. his rage heightened each time the man touches you. you were his, not anyone else’s. sicheng clearly had to get rid of this problem. he’s done it before, and even though he won’t be dining on this man, his friends will. there is never a wasted meal between the seven of them. a quick phone call to kun, to who he gives the address of the restaurant, and the man is taken care of. sicheng decides to leave before he gets mad enough to do the job himself.

not a word is mentioned by sicheng, because if he did, you’d know he followed you. the “friend dates” continued and sicheng was as unsuspecting as any normal person, but behind the scenes, his obsession grew. he was getting impatient, he wanted to have you now. but he just couldn’t push it. you were becoming more flirty with him after the other guy stood you up. at least, that’s what you told sicheng, not knowing the man was long dead and eaten. 

“sicheng, are you alright?” your honey voice pulls him out of his thoughts and back to reality. he nods feverishly and shoots a shy smile, one that hides his true intentions. today is the day, he thought. nothing could stand between him and your extravagance. you smile at him, and place a hand on his arm. “would you like to come to my apartment? i have water and medicine if you don’t feel well.” of course, he agrees. his plan was coming together. throughout the last seven years, the nine victims he’s claimed have all been to his basic standards.

 taeil, the street musician he encountered while still in high school. he was the first, a quite easy job, as he was desperate to find connections to anyone -street performing wasn’t enough to pay the bills- and sicheng was just the perfect person for that. 

yeri, his first girlfriend. sicheng had a lot of fun with her, she was almost always yearning for him, begging for sex whenever the chance arose. but sicheng grew tired of her constantness and got rid of her. 

irene, his best friend’s aunt. she was much too old for sicheng when he’d fucked her, but she was just too cunning to pass up. her seductive nature got the best of sicheng, and her kill was his most gruesome to date, the anger of falling for another’s trick clouded his mind. 

yuta, his first true love. sicheng doesn’t regret killing his lover, but the heavy guilt of what could have been had sicheng not been this way weighs on his mind at all times.

yangyang, the small cousin that annoyed him to no end. sicheng showed no emotion at the boy’s funeral, and he was the only family member he’d killed.

wendy, the girl from college. she was also in the medical department and had a small crush on sicheng. he used this to his advantage, killing her swiftly and secretly.

jaehyun, the secret boyfriend. his junior year of undergrad school was filled with parties at frat houses, and jaehyun being the president of one proved sicheng showing up to many of them. jaehyun was a whore in every sense of the word, and it extended towards men.

renjun, the only other chinese boy in his graduate school. sicheng was a mentor to him, and even cared deeply for the boy. but renjun wasn’t special, he was still just another meal to be consumed.

seulgi, his dance partner. many days after school were spent fucking her in the dance studio on campus, until one day he got tired of her. the dance studio was closed for weeks due to the amount of blood.

and finally you. you were different from the rest, you were the tenth victim, and the fifth girl. an even number of victims, something he took pride in achieving. he knew he had to do something special for you. the pink heart-shaped box he’d got to hold the very organ it was modeled after. it had golden details painted on, and the latch had a pearl on it. sicheng thought it was beautiful, and the perfect thing to hold your heart. he was going to keep it close to him, as a token of remembrance. 

the way back to your apartment was filled with sensual touches and flirty kisses on each other. it wasn’t far from the small cafe you both chose to eat at, so the walk wasn’t too long. a passerby would look and see what appears to be a happy couple when the reality of the situation was much darker. sicheng was hungry, and you were the main course. the door to the apartment was in sight when a policeman stopped the two of you. sicheng hides his annoyance well and puts up an unsuspecting front. “good evening, officer.” the officer nods before speaking to you. “miss, you were one of the last people to see johnny suh last week. do you know anything about his whereabouts?” the shock from his sentence washed over your face as you shook your head no. “i ate with him last tuesday, and arranged another meeting, but he never showed nor answered his phone and i haven’t seen him since.” the officer nods and writes a few things down before turning to sicheng. “and do you maybe know anything about him?” sicheng analyzes the picture of the man he sent kun to kill, almost smiling. “no sir, i’ve never seen him before unfortunately.” the officer nods again and thanks the both of you for the help.

sicheng starts to rush along, wanting to complete the task at hand. the walk up the stairs to your door seemed endless, tunnel vision forming at the thought of what was about to go down. an evil smirk graced sicheng’s features, and as the sunset glowed down on you, he knew your time on earth was ending soon. you both didn’t get even a foot in the door before sicheng was all over you, kisses exchanged between clashing of teeth, hands roaming everywhere that was in reach. clothes discarded around the floor, not to be worried about until later. the only thing that mattered to sicheng right now was getting you in bed. he guides you there quickly, kisses getting messy, the rest of your undergarments gone. the only sounds in the room were the escaping moans from you and the creaking of the bed. 

you’re fast asleep, sicheng makes sure of this. he creeps around your kitchen and finds a knife suitable for his art. the gloves he brought already on, he picks the knife up and examines his reflection. he sees himself as a wonderful human, there are no flaws in him, he is the perfect being. his trek back to your room is hasty, his excitement barely contained. he is moments away from having the best meal of his life.

his body hovered over your sleeping figure. how peaceful you looked, soft breathing, a neutral look on your face. it was such a shame that you’d be dead in less than a few minutes. sicheng took his time preparing his weapon, the carving knife shining in the moonlight. he silently plans out where to take the first stab, even a small error would result in a faulty kill. the pink heart-shaped box in his bag yelling at him to hurry up and do it. taking in a deep breath, sicheng raises the knife, but only enough to get momentum. as he plunges it into your chest, he covers your mouth as to not let the scream out. he can’t have anyone hearing this, for obvious reasons. you awake to a painful sensation. eyes still raw with sleep, you scan your surroundings as best you can, the painful burning almost too much. the figure above you looks familiar, and you thrash around to get away from him. the sleep now long gone and adrenaline coursing your veins, you realize it was the man you’d been seeing around often, sicheng. you try to get away from him, but he is inevitably stronger than you.

“you’re only making this harder for yourself.” his voice comes out deep and full of annoyance. you pay it no mind and continue to wriggle your body, though it is slowly weakening. sicheng continues to carve around your heart, and you try to scream out but the large hand on your mouth blocks it. the pain is unbearable at this point, and you find yourself losing this fight. your skin pales at blood loss and you start to lose consciousness. the last thing you hear before the dark was sicheng’s sultry voice whispering in your ear. “my present to me is the only means of life you’ve got left.” 

you go limp in his arms, your heart ripped from its cavity. sicheng takes one glove off to grab the box, placing the heart inside it gently. he admires his work, standing and taking pictures to save for later. he thinks about how delicious you will taste. sicheng simply cannot wait to be fully connected to you, the excitement making him hurry with transporting you to his house so you can be prepared. sicheng calls up kun, and the only thing he says before hanging up is simple. “tonight, we shall feast on a delicate one.”

the basis of all life is the heart, and you let yours be taken by a man you truly didn’t know.

[zet-sway]

Spiritual Shrios Summer Fill - “Caress"

My third fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer! I wanted a happy ending for these lovebirds, so pardon my AU. I slammed down the rough draft while vibing hard to Hozier and Ed Sheeran.

PROMPT WORD: CARESS | WORDS: 2246 Rated: "S" for "Soft & Spicy" AO3 Link: "Safe, Warm, and Whole" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Setting: Recently Post-War, Thane Survives AU Summary: "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen.

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The soft chill of night air filtered through the open window in their shared flat as Shepard stepped out of the bathroom on sore, aching feet. Fresh from a cold shower, shoulders dropped with fatigue, she managed a smile at him across the room. Thane looked up from his reading. "Siha, how are you feeling?" "Exhausted." She looked it, too. Ever since the war had ended, combat seemed to always take a heavier toll on her body. Her armor powered her through the field, but in their private quarters, she carried herself on tired legs, fresh bruises peeking out from beneath her shirtsleeves. He would kiss them away if he could. Thane stood and guided her into his arms. "Come to bed with me. I think you've earned a good rest." Their flat - if it could even be called a flat - was barebones, no better than any military dormitory she's ever stayed in. White walls, cold floor tiles, and almost no décor to speak of. It was clean, at least. Six months since the war had ended, humanity had made little to no progress reclaiming the comforts they'd enjoyed before the reapers. Still, some inspired soldier had managed to requisition an old bed that was bigger than the standard issue Alliance bunk size - a gift for the legend herself, and her partner. He eased her down onto the sheets with steady arms. "It's too quiet in here," Shepard groaned as she laid down. "I'm sure the Alliance would be willing to relocate us to one of the orbital stations," he said, undressing before joining her in bed. She made an annoyed sound. "They need me here." It was mostly true. The alliance was still uncovering disorganized pockets of reaper forces, most of them in the underground byways of urban centers. It's what she spent her days doing. Strapping on the same old armor and delving into close quarters to fight cannibals, brutes, and whatever other monsters lurked in the dark. He wanted so badly for her to rest, but she wouldn't have it. The three months she spent held up in the field hospital were agony for her, and not simply because she was in pain. That restless mind, her patchwork cybernetic body giving her inhuman reserves of energy that her organic parts simply couldn't keep pace with. Even the Alliance had tried to offer her diplomatic work - something she had laughed off. "Come back when you're ready to let me do my job." Still, Shepard found planetside silence deafening. Sleep was harder to claim without the white noise of a cruiser. She talked often of the thrumming of engines on ships she'd lived on for most of her life. Thane himself rather enjoyed the quiet sounds of Earth, but it didn't much matter to him where they were. As long as she came home to him at night. "What will you do once the ground work is complete?" he said, settling in beside her. "I can't fucking wait," came her muffled response, face stuffed into a pillow. "Maybe then we can get back into space. Help with the Citadel reclamation." She turned to look at him then, squinting against the light on his nightstand. "If that's okay with you." "My love," he said, switching off the light and kissing her forehead, "I would follow you to the edge of the world if you'll have me." She swatted at him weakly. "You're sickeningly sweet." Thane's face contorted in an exaggerated frown, but his voice betrayed his mirth. "I make you sick?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." "I love you too, Siha," he chuckled, and gathered her into his arms. Indeed it had taken him a little while to get used to living with humans and their ample use of sarcasm, but he did understand her. By now he had long since stopped using his translator. Earth was becoming more familiar to him by the day, and he was surprised to find so many humans eager for his help. That he wasn't Alliance didn't seem important when so much needed doing. When he refused to leave her hospital bedside, they busied him with menial tasks around the infirmary and he was surprised to find he enjoyed the small role he had in healing the injured. Most of all, he thanked Arashu each and every day for her unbelievable

blessing, to have Shepard here, curling into his chest, safe, warm, and whole. She wriggled against him, humming quietly as she found a more favorable position with her knee over his and her face in the warm velvety frill of his neck. Soft breaths rolled over him and he trilled in response, the sound vibrating in his chest. They fit together so seamlessly that he could never be sure if she teased him like this deliberately or simply out of comfort, but warmth of her breath over his throat made his body stir in irresponsible ways, considering her state of fatigue. With some amount of guilt, he shifted away from her. She reacted, her arm tightened about his waist to press him close and this time she did it on purpose, gentle lips kissing his throat once, then twice with an open mouth, with a small hum of satisfaction. Her intentions were loud and clear. "I thought you were exhausted," he mused into her hair. Ambient light from outside spilled through their open window and illuminated her in the dreamy shades of nighttime. Her eyes were closed, body tucked tight against him. Like holding the entire world in his arms, he swelled with adoration. "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen. "Mm," he pretended to consider, knowing exactly what she wanted. "I may be able to help. What do you require?" It would be a cold day in hell when he was too tired for her. She kissed his neck again, her palm flattening against the small of his back and dragging it slowly over his backside. "Touch me," she whispered. Warmth bloomed in his chest, the heat of desire washing over him. "It would be my pleasure," he rumbled. Slowly, he pushed her shorts off her hips and eased her on to her back. Eyes closed, licking her lips in contented anticipation, he watched her chest rise and fall with each contented breath. Hands slid across her belly, easing her t-shirt up over her head and she accommodated him, rising just enough to pull it off and flicking it lazily on to the other side of the bed. Relaxed as he'd ever seen, her undressed body laid before him, dotted with scars and stories he knew so well. He pulled himself over her, meeting her lips in an unhurried kiss. She stretched against him, warming beneath his body, hands wandering across the defined lines of his shoulders and spine as though she knew his stripes by memory alone. He gathered her breasts together from where they rolled to her sides and gazed up at her face as he kissed the deliciously soft valley between them. Thumbs running over each hardening peak, he watched her expression as he teased her if only just to see the gleaming edges of her teeth drawing her lower lip into her mouth. Her eyelashes fluttered as he squeezed her flesh gently, closing his lips over first one nipple, then the other. She arched up to meet his eager tongue, heavy breaths rushing from her lungs as though the pressure of his hands drove the air from her body. Beneath him, he could feel her core flex with each flick of his tongue and twist of his fingers "Fuck," she moaned. He couldn't help but watch her, eyes closed, lips parted, chest heaving against his hands as he stoked her lust from a smolder to an irresistible flame. His gentle mouth began to work its way down across the hard plane of her abdomen. Beneath the scent of standard issue soap, he could smell the salt of her skin, pausing to place an appreciative kiss atop her mound before his hands curled around the juncture of her hips. Her breathing was ragged as his thumbs parted her eager, heated flesh for his appreciation. The first time they'd done this he'd had to talk her down from her insecurities. The memory made him feel possessive, nearly angered by the notion that some other man had turned down privilege of knowing her this way. Thane let his breath ghost over her glistening center, thumbs dragging firmly up and down her folds just to hear her moan for him. The urge

to tease her was irresistible. It was with a knowing smirk that he finally bent his mouth to her, tasting her earthy, salty flesh - her hitched gasps like music to his ears. She told him once that he put human lovers to shame, and he was proud - perhaps the only man in existence who pried the secrets of her pleasure straight from her lips. He knew exactly how to touch her simply because he'd asked. The sounds she made when he laved his tongue over her clit were low and resounding reminders of how painfully hard he was in his shorts. Her fingertips trailed along his sensitive jaw, feeling him work as he ate her greedily. "Don't stop," she whispered. He grinned against her sex, teasing her entrance with two fused fingers, pushing slowly inside her heat only to brush against her center and slip out, again and again. Patiently, he devoured her, walking her closer to the edge one searing second at a time until her head was thrown back, her spine arched off the bed, fingers trembling against his scalp. He loved this. Every time he went down on her his mind trailed over every single time previous - recalling the exact intonation of her voice, the press of her hands, the way she tensed her thighs as she neared the peak of her pleasure. By now, he could tell precisely when to set her off. He edged her for a few seconds longer. She was close, so close. She came with a shout, her clutching fingers carefully telegraphing how long he could continue to draw out her climax before she trembled and sagged, clenching her oversensitive flesh away from his hungry mouth. "Holy shit, Thane," she gasped, heaving for breath and sprawling against the mattress. He climbed atop her and she kissed him without hesitation and he growled - he couldn't deny he found it irrefutably erotic how she cleaned the taste of herself off his lips. Clumsy hands fumbled at his shorts, stroking his burning length, urging him to bring it to her lips. Maybe another night - he thought. Right now he burned to bury himself inside her. He felt her tense in anticipation, her eyes cracked open and gleaming in the moonlight, slowly blinking up at him with a look so unguarded he could have wept. She guided him to her slick entrance and he slowly pushed inside, groaning as her hungry, supple flesh tempted him into her scorching depths and at last, he hilted inside her. He set a languid pace, cradling her hips in his hands, searching for the perfect angle to make her see the stars she missed so dearly behind her closed eyes. With her core hypersensitive in the glow of her climax, she clutched at him desperately, nails digging into the scales of his back with such force he thought for sure they would be discolored before long. He didn't care. Becoming one with her, seeing her completely blissed out by each roll of his hips and knowing he could make her feel this way made him shake with wanting. He covered her with his body, ravishing her lips against pleasured cries that came so resoundingly he was sure to hear "who was getting lucky last night?" in the morning. He belonged to her - this night and as many nights as she wanted him. She made him delirious in her pleasure. Her body demanded his release. Held within her wanting arms, he finally succumbed with a hoarse, drawn out cry. For seconds he was infinite, a whirlwind of white hot ecstasy fraying him apart until he found his sweetest end in her embrace. And then there was nothing but her and the caress of crisp, evening air wafting over him. A gift from the earth to bless their joining. He shivered with the aftershocks. Soft hands trailed down his back. He didn't know how long they remained before separating. In the afterglow, memories overtook him easily. Vivid remembrances of Irikah and Shepard tumbled together and he slipped in and out of them like the rolling of coastal waters. It was difficult to rationalize how he could deserve either of them, what he could have done to earn the love of the fierce and cosmic women who touched his heart. But as Shepard's breathing slowed from heavy to peaceful beside him,

his doubts were pushed aside. Arashu herself had sent him a divine protector, and he would not refuse her gifts. "You're the best," she murmured against him, and he could hear the daze of sleep trailing her gentle voice. Just a sigh of breath as she tucked her head against his chest and whispered:

"I love you." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Thanks for reading!

If you like creating shrios content, you're welcome to hop on board the challenge! My previous fills [AO3]:

Secrets in the Steam [Prompt: Wet]

Your Gods are My Gods [Prompt: Pray]

[atinyrabbit]

love/hate songs

Since 8tracks is messed up and playmoss is gonna disappear and Spotify doesn't have many songs, I’m posting some of my playlists here. This is a list of songs about love/hate relationships for pairings. Enemies to lovers, tsundere personalities, hero/villain couplings, opposites attract, loving someone you know you shouldn't. This list is several years old so the songs are older and kinda ‘scene.’

Major trigger warnings for the lyrics of these songs. Some songs have violent lyrics. This playlist romanticizes conflict.

Song list under read more:

Love to Hate You - Erasure Nicotine - Panic! at the Disco Don't Let It Go To Your Head - Fefe Dobson Your Love Will Kill Me - Daniel Lavoie Bruises and Bitemarks (Remix) - Good With Grenades October & April - The Rasmus feat. Anette Olzon Violator - Son of Rust Sick Amore - El Creepo Disgusting - Ke$ha Dangerous - Depeche Mode Oleander - Mother Mother Fear & Delight - The Correspondents Love is a Suicide - Natalia Kills Sex as a Weapon - Pat Benatar I'd Love To Kill You - Katie Melua Before I Ever Met You - Banks Rent - Pet Shop Boys Helpless When She Smiles - Backstreet Boys Holy - Zolita Strangelove - Depeche Mode I Won't Say (I'm In Love) - Susan Egan Can't Feel My Face - The Weeknd Only You - Ellie Goulding Devil Devil - Milck Livin' In A World Without You - The Rasmus  

Hate Love - Adelitas Way Suddenly - Peter Heppner Sick and Twisted Affair - My Darkest Days Radioactive Mirrors - Amazinglyjon Dangerous - Cascada Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes & i_o This Is Love - Air Traffic Controller Make Hate To Me - Citizen Soldier Gently Break It - Beck Pete Portrait of a Female - Cruel Youth This Could Be Love - Alkaline Trio Lie, Lie, Lie - Myra You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi I Only Wanna Be With You - Volbeat Maybe You're Not the Worst Thing Ever - Cast of Galavant I've Got You Under My Skin - Seether Human - Oh Land Le Bien Qui Fait Mal - Mozart, L'Opera Rock Can't Help Falling In Love [Light x Dark Remix] - feat. Brooke Tommee Profitt Fell For You - Green Day Stupid Grin - Dragonette Broken - Lauren Hoffman Take Me to Church - Hozier Super Psycho Love - Simon Curtis Whip - Mr.Kitty   Get You Off - Fefe Dobson Crazy Girl - Ke$ha Vice - POP ETC Cannibal - Silversun Pickups Rest in Peace - Original Cast of Buffy The Vampire Slayer Hem of Your Garment - Cake Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge Truth Or Dare - Marianas Trench We Sink - CHVRCHES Gingerbread Man - Melanie Martinez You Stupid Girl - Framing Hanley   Die For You - Red F*cking Boyfriend - The Bird & The Bee Mean - Nicole Dollanganger Must Be Crazy for Me - Melissa Etheridge That Girl - Alexz Johnson FMLYHM - Seether Bad Romance - Halestorm Aquarius - Within Temptation Flirt (With Me) - Zeromancer I'm With Stupid - Pet Shop Boys Stop This Song (Love Sick Melody) - Paramore Trying Not To Love You - Nickelback Kill for You - Zolita A Love Like War - All Time Low You Need Me - SWANS Hatef--k - The Bravery Bottled Affection - Cold War Kids True Love - ThouShaltNot Terrible Thing - Ag I Can't Decide - Scissor Sisters Exit Wounds - The Romanovs Gun - Chvrches Every Breath You Take - Chase Holfelder Whole Lotta Love - Smash Mouth Bloodsport - Sneaker Pimps XXX - Imran-C Bitter Rivals - Sleigh Bells Destruction Of Us - Mr.Kitty Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer Love Me Dead - Ludo Paralyzed - The Used River - Bishop Briggs Neon - VERSA Sucker For Pain - Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons I'm Your Villain - Franz Ferdinand Beautiful Monster - Ne-Yo I Own You - Birgit Let Me Be Your Armor - ASSEMBLAGE 23 Perfect Enemy - t.A.T.u. Straight for the Knife - Sia One More Night - Maroon 5 I Hate You (Don't Leave Me) - Ke$ha The Moth - Aimee Mann Mad Love - The Veronicas Toxic (Acoustic Britney Spears Cover) - Johnny Goth Bad Intentions - Digital Daggers Shut Up - Nick Lachey Soldier - Bitter Ruin First Bad Habit - Vanessa Hudgens In The Darkness - Dead By Sunrise Tearin' Up My Heart - *NSYNC You'll Be Back - Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton & Jonathan Groff Crazy In A Good Way - VERIDIA Combat Baby - Metric In Bluebeard's Castle - Unwoman When Doves Cry - Prince State of Seduction - Digital Daggers Whataya Want From Me - Adam Lambert Broken Inside - Broken Iris Murder (feat. Minx, Chilled) - Boyinaband Why Do You Love Me - Charlotte Lawrence Follow You Home - Nickelback Love To See You Cry - Enrique Iglesias Impressed - Natalie Imbruglia Die For You - Megan McCauley Your Kind (Speak to Me) - Danger Radio Tyrant - The Bravery Violent Games - Polica Toxicated Love - NEO Nemeses (feat. John Roderick) - Jonathan Coulton Miserable - Lit Running From My Shadow - The Velvet Teaparty Barricade - Stars Trouble (Stripped) - Halsey Brutal Hearts - Bedouin Soundclash Desire - Meg Myers Sticks And Stones - The Pierces Just the Girl - The Click Five Himerus and Eros - The Spill Canvas Blood - In This Moment I'm Insane - Myah Marie Fiction (Dreams In Digital) - Orgy Whore - In This Moment Monster - Ryan Adames Foundations - Kate Nash Only When I Lose Myself - Depeche Mode Hatchet - Archive The Beginning of the Twist - The Futureheads Change - Deftones Trust Me - Marc Senter Love Me Hate Kiss Me Kill Me (Scndl Remix) - Fukkk Offf Big Bad Handsome Man - Imelda May The Mighty Fall - Fall Out Boy My Obsession - Cinema Bizarre Stitches - Orgy Miss Kiss Kiss Bang - Alex Swings Oscar Sings! Sweet Dreams - Beyonce Fuel To The Fire - The Maine Closer (Nine Inch Nails Cover) - Niki Barr Band Clueless - Orla Gartland Devil Woman - Cliff Richard Hatefuck - Motionless In White I Love You But I Don’t Like You - Molly Moore Overpower Thee - AUF dER MAUR Get Down On Your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me - All Time Low Post Blue - Placebo Genghis Khan - Miike Snow Poison - Alice Cooper I Know I'm A Wolf - Young Heretics Little Toy Gun - honeyhoney I Miss the Misery - Halestorm Dirty Sticky Floors (radio mix) - Dave Gahan Clarity - Zedd I Get A Kick Out Of You - Frank Sinatra I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett and the Blackhearts Die for You - Otherwise Labyrinth - Oomph! Black Black Heart - David Usher I Want to Destroy Something Beautiful - Josh Woodward I'm a Priest - Daniel Lavoie You Need Me - SWANS Afraid of the Dark - Phildel Virus - Ryan Adames I Wanna Be Your Dog (remix) - Emilie Simon Hello Goodbye - The Beatles Sarcasm (Album Version) - Get Scared Use Me - Hinder Poison & Wine - The Civil Wars Pretty When You Cry - VAST Tainted Love - Soft Cell Scream - Avenged Sevenfold Think About It - Danger Radio Gallery Piece - Of Montreal Bang Bang Bang Bang - Sohodolls Little Girls - Say Anything I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace Love Runs Out - OneRepublic Disarm - Smashing Pumpkins Hit Me Like a Man - The Pretty Reckless Bang Bang (feat. Adam Levine) - K'naan Hurts So Good - John Mellencamp Addicted - Kelly Clarkson Whiplash - FEMM Paralyzer - Finger Eleven Crime - Temposhark Misery Loves Company - Emilie Autumn It Was Good for You Too - Marian Call Price Of Company - The White Tie Affair Burn! - Kobra And The Lotus I Love My Lawyer - Ofelia K I Want Blood - empires (I Always Kill) The Things I Love (ft. The Real Tuesday Weld) - Claudia Brucken Misery (Cutmore Radio) - Maroon 5 Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar I Lust You - Neon Neon Pistol Whipped - Marilyn Manson Bitches Brew - Crosses A Formidable Marinade - Mikelangelo And The Black Sea Gentlemen Control - Puddle of Mudd Scary Love - Skye Sweetnam Loveyouhateyou - Sad Robot Untangle Me - Snow Ghosts A Little Taste - Skyler Stonestreet E.V.O.L - Marina and the Diamonds   (You're the) Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley Shut Up & Kiss - Me Orianthi Cool for Chaos - Nostalghia Oyeme - Enrique Iglesias I Hate You - Sick Puppies GirlShapedLoveDrug - Gomez You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk - Pet Shop Boys Need You Like A Drug - Zeromancer Werewolf - Cat Power Bathwater - No Doubt Bad Dog - Neon Hitch Guns And Horses - Ellie Goulding Rev 22-20 - Puscifer Won't You Please Be Nice - Nellie McKay The Perfect Drug - Nine Inch Nails Until The Day I Die - Story of the Year Womanizer - Britney Spears Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations I Think I Love You David Cassidy Stalkers - Mindless Self Indulgence   Kill Me Every Time - Blue Stahli Preface - FKA twigs Every You Every Me - Placebo Want - Disturbed Spit It Out - IAMX Destroy Me - Mr Kitty My Sweet Prince - Placebo Psycho - Imelda May Monster - Meg Myers Figured You Out - Nickelback Suffocated Love - Tricky Satisfy Me One More Time - Frank Sinatra This Love - Maroon 5 Miss Jackson (feat. Lolo) - Panic! At The Disco Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar Every Other Time Lyte - Funky Ones How Do You Love Someone - Ashley Tisdale Poison - Gin Wigmore Bitter and Sick - One Two The Outsider - Marina & the Diamonds True Love (feat Lily Rose Cooper) - Pink Bad Boy - Cascada Irresistible - Temposhark Painkiller - The Queenstons Born to Die / Russian Roulette - Amazinglyjon Like Sugar - Matchbox Twenty Mad About You - Hooverphonic Stupify - Disturbed Problems - Mother Mother What Is Love - Haddaway Animal - The Cab Marionette - Antonia I Hate You But I Love You - Russian Red Carve A Name - Mother Mother Criminal - Britney Spears Danger - Hilary Duff Fell in Love w/an Android - Simon Curtis Demon Lover - Róisín Murphy Always - Saliva Too Close - Alex Clare Little of Your Time - Maroon 5 Sex and Violence - Scissor Sisters Electric Storm - Delta Goodrem Black widow - Susanne Sundfør Dangerous Kind - Rasmus You've Really Got a Hold on Me - The Miracles Over and Over - Three Days Grace Devour - Marilyn Manson Nature of Inviting - IAMX The Odd Couple - Weezer Hurt Me Harder - Zolita Terrible Love - The National Mad Love - Jojo Boomerang - Reliant K Bad News - Sleeper Agent I Was An Island (EP Version) - Allison Weiss Rock Bottom - Hailee Steinfeld You’re the One That I Want - Lo Fang Poison - Rita Ora Kill For You - Skylar Grey ft Eminem Wouldn't Be Love - Ritual Hate Me - Nico Collins Irresistible - Fall Out Boy I Love You... I'll Kill You - Enigma

[iwrestlenow]

It All Starts And Ends With You, Chapter One (Stories from THE EMERALD)

TITLE: It All Starts And Ends With You, Chapter 1 

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The nature of a drake, human versus dragon, isn't just tragic backstory. The supernatural halfbreeds are a living duality, two creatures in one skin. Every drake is, essentially, a twin soul.

Unlike most twin souls with a Necromatic match, however, a drake can choose.

For Janus, giving Patton his human soul was easy...but a secret from his past means that his choice has consequences...consequences he was never supposed to face, because Patton would never be free.

So much for a sure thing.

SHIPS: Moceit (Patton/Janus), Dragon Witch/Original Male Character and background Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: Future smut--warnings for all pertinent chapters will be posted.

...so apparently there's going to be a few side stories in this series? This takes place shortly after MANY MORE TO DIE, but it's not the big sequel. It's very much a side quest type thing because Janus Has Backstory and I Have Moceit Feels(TM). XD

Also, later on there WILL be smut in this story, but the chapters will be labeled--and I'm planning to make them skippable if I can. Otherwise I'll summarize plotty things in the end notes. So you filthy minded animals can have your debauchery, and those less inclined can still have all of my feels. :P

Per usual, unbeta'd self indulgent drivel, all mistakes are mine. ONWARD TO SHIPPYTOWN!

Also located at AO3 over here.

1019, A.A.

“Jay! A word?”

Eleven year old Janus Ormor looked up from the book he was reading on the floor of their living chamber. Father was captain of the guard, and as such they had better quarters in the palace than some other soldiers—shutters on the windows, softer beds, and the rug in their living chamber was far more comfortable than his bed, especially with a fire going.

Janus always had trouble staying warm—which never seemed right, since he was half dragon, but if Father wasn't worried then neither was Janus.

Marking his place carefully, Janus set his book aside and got to his feet so he could dash across the room to crawl into his father's lap. Yeah, it was kind of juvenile—he was eleven, Shadow's sake—but Father ran hot, and Janus was not above stealing a little of that warmth from him.

Knowing that, Timothy Ormor smiled and loosened the top couple buttons on his collar, allowing Janus to press his forehead to the curve of his neck as he crowded close with a satisfied sigh.

“What's going on, Father?”

“Nothing, really, just...well, your birthday is in a couple days.”

“Uh huh! I'm really excited! I love surprise parties.”

“How did...”

Janus looked up at his father with a smile, earning one in return. Father finally laughed, shaking his head.

“Sometimes I forget how good your ears are, wriggle worm.” Father sighed, tugging Janus closer. “No matter—yes, we're throwing you a surprise party. Think you can pretend?”

“I'm real good at pretending!” Janus assured him before cuddling up to Father's chest again.

“Well, that's good...but, uh...we need to talk 'bout something else.”

“What's that, Father?”

“Well...you know the story I told you about how you were born?”

Janus nodded, tucking his head against Father's neck again. “You and Mother loved each other very much, so you--”

“Not that part, imp!”

Giggling, Janus continued.

“--after Mother found out she was with child, you guys let me be born in the way of the dragons: she changed form, carried me for a year, and I was hatched a few weeks after the egg came. I didn't get my human form until I was a month old.”

“Well...that's the thing, kiddo...Shadow's Balls, there's no easy way to say this...”

“Say what, Father?”

“I...damn it, but I promised her you'd know your people. Thing is, Jan...your mother didn't have you with me.”

Janus felt his stomach get cold inside.

“What do you mean? You...you're my father.”

Timothy ran a hand through his son's hair, staring into his bright and confused little face. He wasn't overly fair, but his jet black hair washed out his complexion some, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

He was so easily mistaken for human with that beautiful face—until he heard things no child his age should. Until he stuck his hand in a fire and came away unburnt. Until he grew slow and lethargic in the cold...until those dark eyes bled yellow as daffodils, pupils lengthening into reptilian slits.

“I'm your dad, wriggle worm,” Timothy confessed, “but the truth is...I'm not actually your father.”

********** 1033, A.A.

“Sneak attack!”

Janus dropped his book as Patton rushed straight at him, flinging himself into Janus's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck to squeeze tight.

“I could see you coming, sweetie.” Janus pointed out with a sigh that didn't match the fierce swell of affection in his chest, hot and restless, compelling him to hold Patton in return with arms wrapped carefully around his waist.

Patton's giggle, right in his ear, sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. “But you didn't know I was gonna hug you!”

“Your arms were open for one.”

“So?”

“You also do this at least three times a day.”

“Only because you said four was too many!”

Patton drew back to pout at him this time, and that hot swell of affection stretched in his chest to the point of pain. Since Mori's death and Roman's installment as regent until the coronation, Logan and Patton had been given free reign of the castle, along with a few other Necromata prisoners the pair had vetted. Until their freedom was voted on by the citizens, they couldn't be released, but they could at least be made comfortable, and given room to reclaim some shred of normalcy.

Which meant Patton could, and did, visit Janus far too often, greedily devouring every hug, cuddle, hand hold, or simple hair ruffle he could gain access to. Janus could hardly deny him...and Janus wanted it all just as much.

Gods, Janus wanted, too much and too soon and too...inhuman.

Staring into Patton's face, Janus's vision was tinged with rays of gold. A gilt to every dark curl on Patton's head, flecks of gold in those deep blue eyes turning them into true lapis...shimmering gold lips pooched into a mock scowl, gold dusting the faint array of freckles he was acquiring after a few weeks of sunlight...

Pressure. Warm, steady, gentle...

Janus blinked, realizing Patton had his forehead pressed against Janus's. He was talking, words Janus couldn't hear but felt, soft and soothing and endless to fill his ears and press back the shimmering film over his vision.

The gilt edges faded away. His eyes were blue, deep and still and endless. He was Patton again, not...not some worthless hoard.

Just Patton, soft and sweet and bloodthirsty, infinitely more precious.

“...got you, Janny, my beautiful Janus. I got you, you're doing so good, you're so good for me...”

...okay, that couldn't be allowed to go on. Not when it made warmth pool far lower in Janus's body, made him want something entirely different—and wow, he was not ready for those kinds of personal revelations today.

Clearing his throat, Janus reached up to gently touch Patton's cheek.

“I'm all right, Pattycake. Promise.”

Patton watched him dubiously, a far more serious version of that pout forming on his face again...Gods and Souls, he wanted to run a fingertip over that lush lower lip. Or maybe bite it.

“You were growling.” Patton replied suspiciously. “And you were feeling cold. You're never cold, you're always warm as toast.”

“It's nothing, truly. I was just...distracted.” Janus tried again. “Work related, got me a little upset is all.”

Patton narrowed his eyes—then leaned back in to hug Janus again. Janus hugged him back without thinking...and felt his breath catch when he swore, swore to all the dragon gods, that he felt the tiniest press of lips against his neck before Patton burrowed in, pressing his face there.

“No one's 'llowed to upset my pretty dragon.” Patton mumbled against his throat. “Gonna eat their liver.”

Janus knew enough to know that was a very genuine threat, petulant as it sounded—and the promise of bloodshed should not make his heart throb with the softest pulse of tenderness and adoration. And yet...

“No more cannibalism, remember, darling?”

“It was one time, and it was an accident!”

Janus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Patton drew back to whine at him in protest.

“Yes, darling. Of course—entirely accidental. Naturally.”

“Humph. Not talking to you anymore.”

“Understood.”

“...the Lord Father is here to see you.”

Janus felt his blood turn to ice at that.

“Janny? You okay?”

With a sigh, Janus gently patted Patton's knee.

“No, but this was inevitable. Up, Paddock darling. I've business to attend to.”

********** He seemed bigger than Janus remembered.

Walking into his office, he was unsuprised to see Josiah Crofter standing within its walls, back turned as he stared out the window, arms folded across his chest. He wasn't, technically, allowed to be here and leave free, but Josiah had made it clear to the prince regent he knew how to access the castle at will—and had been given leave to do so whenever he wished to see his family.

When Janus was thirteen, he'd been a hungry giant, and now...now he was exactly the same despite the fact that Janus was now a grown man. Tall, too, thanks to that seven foot frame in his ancestry. Somehow, even still, Josiah himself was the bigger, the prouder, the more intimidating.

Clearing his throat, Janus announced his presence. Josiah didn't even turn around.

“You got good men servin' you, Deceit.”

“Do not call me that.” Janus replied flatly, sauntering over to his desk. “The walls have ears. Granted, most of them are mine, but loose lips and all. Unlike the rest of you, I take protection of my True Name very seriously.”

“Unlike the rest of us, son, it can't be used to hurt you. Not anymore.”

“Yes, you saw to that, didn't you?” Janus bit off tersely, sinking into his chair.

Josiah fell silent, taking a moment before he finally turned to face him. He was a stoic wall for several seconds before his expression just...melted, cold gray eyes going smoke-soft as he watched him.

“You look so much like your momma it hurts.” Josiah murmured, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “It's a good hurt, mind, but...I know you don't believe me, but seein' you's a balm on old wounds, little ember.”

That caught Janus by surprise—and he hated that. He was the one with the surprises, the tricks, the knowledge...but this man had things he never would.

Father knew who Janus was, but Josiah Crofter...he knew where Janus came from. He knew the why, the history and the parts and how they worked together, because they were a part of him as well. They were, quite literally, part of his soul.

“Which part?”

The question left Janus without his permission, torn from the small, secret part of him that had been inexorably drawn to his birth father's doorstep from the moment his human half had truly awakened for the first time.

He wasn't sure what he even meant, but somehow Josiah knew all the same.

“Both. All.” he replied, deep voice heavy with affection that settled over Janus, warm as fire and soft as the heaviest flannel blanket. “You got her scales and her hair—and in human form, her eyes were always that same shade of yellow you got on the one side.”

The knowledge hit him hard, formed a fist and plunged straight into his chest. It was comfort, it was agony...and it was a much needed reminder.

Josiah Crofter knew him as even his own father couldn't—and far too late, Janus learned to fear him for that reason. Far too late.

Janus's True Name was proof of that.

“Is there a reason you're here to see me, Lord Father?” he replied instead of addressing the observation. “Or did you come her to merely wax sentiment?”

A flare of hurt, then anger passed through his expression, clinging to his bones with its painful familiarity. Timothy Ormor was a man slow to anger, patient and steady—unlike Janus, whose swift mind was only outpaced by his heart, burning with the fire of the dragons.

Lashing out with anger instead of grieving or showing fear. This man was where he got it from.

Like Josiah did now, composing himself and folding his hands behind his back, he would default to a steady and inscrutable mask, cover the truth with strength and decorum.

“I came here to check on you.” he replied evenly. “Your situation with the Morrel boy ain't exactly a common one. Does he know?”

“About my condition? No.” Janus replied flatly. “And he never will.”

“That ain't an option, and you damn well know it.”

“It is if we aren't together.”

Josiah's brow furrowed, expression clouding with confusion. “You a Jadeheart?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “That term is archaic as all Seven Hells—no, I am not aromantic. Nor am I asexual, which is hardly your business—oh, I'm sorry, Soultouched.”

“You love that boy. You're bonded to him.”

“Your point?”

“...so you did give him your human soul.”

Janus fell silent, stubbornly holding the other man's gaze until he grit his teeth with a growl.

“Ah, Hells...”

Janus didn't like the way Josiah's breath left him in a rush, the way he cursed as if he'd just lost something precious. He didn't like the way he hung his head, shoulders slumping in something like defeat.

Janus didn't like the way he felt suddenly like he'd done something to deliberately hurt him.

“He was a Black Dog with a pure heart.” Janus hissed. “The purest heart...anyone who didn't know would assume he had a soul already, how could I give him anything else? How could I kill that human heart with a monster's soul?”

As he said it, he felt the reality of it sink into him for the first time, saying it out loud like that.

Because unlike most twin souls, a drake could choose.

And when Janus gained an inkling of what might be happening, when he felt that moment come—to give of himself, to release something of himself into Patton's care, of course—of course he chose to give Patton, to trust Patton, with everything in him that was human.

“You know what's gonna happen if you hold yourself away from him, son.” Josiah warned.

Janus narrowed his eyes at him, but could no longer bear up under Josiah's scrutiny, his eyes flicking down to his desk.

“Tell me this, Father: if you knew that you were going to become every foul thing the Animator stood for, if you knew that you were going to turn into your own father, would you have married my mother? Would you have exposed her to that monster?”

There was no answer from Josiah. Janus didn't expect one.

The closer he grew to Patton, the worse it got—and now that the sweet little killer was no longer safely tucked away in the dungeons or sequestered in a single wing of the palace, Janus was slipping.

Consumed by the hunger for possession. Tormented by visions of riches. Haunted by the knowledge that, if given half a chance, he would consume Patton whole just to sate his growing thirst for more.

Without his human soul, Janus was losing his grip on himself—and if he couldn't do something soon, the dragon—Deceit--would be all that was left of him.

[madbucker]

Silhouettes | Daryl Dixon

Eventual Daryl Dixon x female reader.

III.

Season 1.

MASTERLIST.

Loosely based on the song We Will Become Silhouettes by The Postal Service.

Summary: King County went down and Y/N is left alone hiding, trying to survive and looking for her sister.

Warnings: language, gore stuff (twd style), mentions of death. Will add more warnings depending on the chapter’s content. Let me know if you think it needs some other warning!

Word count: 2k.

Author’s note: First things first, I’m not a native English speaker, so bear with me! You can send me a message or an ask pointing out some mistakes so I can edit the post. Also, it will help me learn the language, so don’t hesitate! If you have any questions or want me to write about a situation in particular (like how they met, runs, the prison, or whatever you come up with) just send me an ask and if I feel like it fits with the story, then I’ll write it! Anyway, if you are into simple writing and limited vocabulary, then I hope you like it and as I said before, I’ll gladly take constructive criticism! ♥ I MEAN IT, CORRECT ME, PLEASE lol. We’re going back in time this chapter!

Gif’s not mine.

Since you could remember, you wanted nothing more than to become independent. The future you had imagined seemed bright and full of opportunities.

You had just left your home after being forced to leave your undead roommate locked in her room: your own best friend. She was the first person who made you feel at home when you first stepped foot in Georgia with your sister. In the beginning, you had stayed in cheap hotels in Atlanta until you got a job in a small county around 6 miles away from the city and could afford rent; that’s when you met Stella: a girl your age who had moved from somewhere in Kansas a few months before you met. You worked together and she had told you she was looking for a couple of roommates so she could both afford rent and eat proper meals, and, of course, you and your sister said yes straight away. And just when you thought you were living the life you had always wanted, the world became a living hell. Just weeks before you thought you were starting to build the foundations of the life you had always wanted.

Now you were stuck somewhere in a middle-class neighborhood, alone, inside one of the few houses that weren’t either burned down or destroyed. It wasn’t easy to imagine, but maybe you could survive in this new world. Even all alone and with a twisted ankle, if you just stayed hidden in the house until you healed, then you could head to the woods and get away from the infested area.

The whole place had been raided, the cabinet doors were broken and there was almost no food left inside of them. And you couldn’t ignore, as much as you tried, the bloodstains of the bed sheets. The house had dreadful stories to tell, you knew it, and deep inside you, you thought it was almost immoral for you to stay there. You were occupying someone else’s house, whatever their fate had been. But, what else could you do? Go out to the streets and hide behind trees or trash cans? You wouldn’t last a week. So you stayed there, rationing provisions and coming up with ways to make them last.

The first night at the house had been relatively quiet. You managed to close and seal all the windows without major effort and barricaded the front and back doors. You also made sure no one was there with you. Living nor dead.

A weak and a half later, or perhaps two weeks, —you didn’t mind counting the days anymore—, you heard something from outside. Voices, not grunting. People. Looking through the window trying not to make yourself noticeable, your eyes stumbled upon a man, a woman and a kid running inside the house across the street. Lying on the floor were three of the dead. 

You thought of telling them to stay with you so you could survive together, but decided to wait just to make sure they weren’t a threat. You still had enough supplies to last a couple more days, so there was no use in leaving the house. In theory, and if they didn’t decide to scavenge there, you could keep an eye on them and make a decision.

And so you did. Two days, not more, not less. You scrapped the last tuna can, knowing it was expired and that your stomach would hate you in a few hours. But at the end of the world that was the least of your worries.

Morgan, father. 

Duane, son. 

Jenny, used-to-be-mother, used-to-be-wife, now one of the dead walking in the streets. You felt guilty for not even realizing she had died. You hadn’t heard anything, you didn’t know when it had happened either. 

Listening to their story broke your heart and made you wonder what might’ve happened to your family back at home. Was their city still standing? They were a few states to the west, how long would it take you to get there? Was it worth the risk? Were they alive? Were they looking for you? Since you had to escape from your apartment you had forbidden yourself to think about nothing else but surviving. Every time memories of your family struck your mind, you would put up a wall to avoid rambling.

The first night with the two of them caught you breaking down and crying yourself sleep. You felt safe for the first time in a long time. You knew someone was near you, watching in case something went wrong, so naturally, your guard didn’t stay up. You didn’t stop it from crumbling down, though, the following day could find you all alone again and if you had to cry, it had to be under a roof with people taking care of you. Even having Duane around helped, as young as he was.

You lied on the mattress curled up in a ball, trying to cry in silence but failing miserably. Your sister, where was she? Where were her friends? Did she make it?

She had gone camping with friends a week before hell broke loose, and you hadn’t heard from her since. She hadn’t called  you, hadn’t texted nor tried to contact you in any way. Maybe she didn’t know how bad things had gotten. You remembered how she joked about some cannibal she had heard from in the news, just before she left.

“If shit goes down you’ll be the first to die,” she joked, “Imma survive like the badass I am.”

“I may not be in the best shape but I’m strong as hell,” you replied.

“You are, but I’m fast, I can outrun a thousand of those flesh-eating psychos. And have you seen how hot I am? Hollywood says I’ll survive.”

“Okay, try not to run into any of them in the woods then! Hollywood loves a good plot twist.”

That was it. Those had been your last words. You tried to comfort yourself saying that at least it wasn’t a fight and that, maybe, being away from the city had kept her safe.

You had waited for her. You had, even with your not-so-dead roommate and her boyfriend locked in her room. It had been days before you decided you had to go out looking for her, but life had tricked you and forced you to stay inside. At least your ankle was better, you decided you would start looking for her as soon as it was fully healed.

“Always go for the head. I’m not giving you a gun, the sound attracts more of them, but the knife will do.”

You nodded but couldn't ignore your pounding heart. You were about to face the creep that had been wandering around the backyard that day, and even though Morgan would be close enough to save your ass if things went south, it was still dangerous. Probably the most dangerous thing you had done in your life. Brave was the last word you would use to describe yourself. Yeah, you were physically strong, but you'd rather stay safe, and if something involved the smallest amount of danger, you would avidly try to avoid it.

Morgan stood behind you with his hands holding your shoulders, slightly pushing you out of the house through the back door.

"The head. Don't waste time. If it grabs you, go for its knee and break it." His tone was cold and determined. He had done that before... teaching someone how to take down creeps, with Duane. But Duane was braver, he had the courage you lacked.

You were trembling, and it got worse as soon as you saw what used to be a woman. She was blonde, and wore a graphic grey shirt, probably not older than twenty-something.

Around your age.

You could spot at least three bite marks on her arms, and her clothes were bathed in blood so dark it almost looked black. Besides the mess, it seemed as if she had been dead for no longer than a few days. She had had a life before becoming a victim of the twisted, sick joke life was then. You could've been her. You could be her in no time if you didn't put yourself together. Your sister, if she was still alive, could be her if you didn't learn how to protect her.

"Morgan, Morg-" your voice shook, it was desperate and loud. So much that the undead in front of you realized you were there.

Noise attracts them, you remembered.

"Go, now, I'm here.”

He let go of your shoulders, and suddenly you felt extremely vulnerable. You felt small, defenseless, and it didn't help that the thing was walking faster towards you, with its arms in front of it, ready to grab you as soon as it was close enough. Your knife was heavy as if you weren't supposed to use it, as if it wasn't yours to have. The creep was getting closer to the porch you both stood in, and when its feet stomped on the steps, your heart raced.

You were frozen even when you felt its hands grabbing your clothes, making you stumble to your side and bump into a small garden table. Only then you reacted, stabbing the undead in its eye. It fell down on top of you, and you weren't sure if it was its body weight or the adrenaline, but you couldn't breathe.

"Daddy, daddy!" Duane's voice was faint but clear, he sounded frantic, and not that far away from where you two were.

You saw Morgan approaching you and pulling the corpse from on top of you, he looked pissed off. The guilt eating you alive, and before you could say anything, he was running off to find his son. You followed him to the street without speaking a word.

"Daddy, I got this sonovabitch! Imma smack him dead!" Duane held a shovel standing next to someone. He was lying on the garden of one the houses

Something, not someone. It, not him. You had to remind yourself.

You saw Morgan shoot a creep as if it was nothing, making you wonder if you'd ever be able to do the same. You were weak, you could only hide and expect to never run into one of those things. Not for the first time, you wondered if you would survive, or for how long.

You ran towards them as they spoke. Morgan looked agitated, he was staring at the undead with a frown.

"Duane!" You almost shouted when you stood next to him. "Are you okay?" Your breath was still heavy and irregular, not to mention you were certain your heart was on the verge of exploding.

"Son, you know they don't talk."

And it hit you. You had found someone, you weren't completely alone in the world. Finding Morgan and Duane had been a surprise to you, and now someone else? You felt a hurricane of emotions take over you.

On one hand, you felt hopeful. You realized that you weren't the only ones who had made it. It allowed you to think that maybe your sister had made it too, wherever she was.

On the other hand, this stranger was wearing a hospital robe, he looked pale and skinny, almost malnourished. Not to mention the old bandages he had on his side. What if he had been locked up all this time? Then, in a way, it made sense that he was able to survive that long. Maybe it was just pure luck.

You kneeled next to him and hovered over his body to check the wound, you needed to see if it was a bite or a scratch, he could turn in any moment and kill you all.

"No! Y/N!" Morgan cried out, making you jump back to your place standing next to Duane. You felt fifteen years younger. As if you were a child being scolded by your dad.

For the past few days, Morgan had been something like a father figure to you, anyway. But you should've been able to take care of yourself, it wasn't fair for him. He didn't have to take care of anyone but his son and himself. Nevertheless, he chose to let you in. He had fed you, he tried to teach you what he knew and didn't give up in the process. You owed him, and you swore you would find a way to repay him someday.

"Hey Mister, what's the bandage for?"

[xhanisai]

Speak Now, Regret Later.

A/N: OKAY! So this anon sent an amazing ask to the terrible-akuma-ideas blog and I was instantly inspired to write something related to it- I legitimately burst out laughing and oh god I hope you all enjoy this! I think we all need a little breather from the Chat Blanc teasers. Without further ado, read on~

(Co-Posted on AO3 and FFN) ~(x)~

The silence has never been so loud. Not even a pin drop was to be heard in the park across the Dupain Cheng Bakery. The bespeckled couple along with their blonde companion stood as still as statues, arms stretched out and mouths gaping with fear and failure. They were too slow to save their friend...if only they were a second faster...if only one of them was even a smidge closer to the raven haired girl... Marinette could have sworn that her heart stopped beating, hands clamped against her mouth and eyes close to bulging out of their sockets. The cackling akuma before her, dressed in the most hideous attire ever since Le Bubbleur made his debut. The akuma's hands stop glowing in its sinister, gold colour along with Marinette's body. "Heh, now I wonder what interesting inner thoughts will escape you now, Class President!" The akuma- also self-claimed as 'Unprivatiser', cocked his head to the side in mock innocence. The akuma's power seems to have control over Marinette's hands as well from the way they were slipping down from her mouth despite her iron will. "Will they be as embarrassing as mine? Will they humiliate you just like the way everyone else humiliated me? Will we finally see if Miss Perfect of our collegé really is perfect?" 

Marinette naturally sunk her teeth into her lips, shaking and attempting everything to keep her mouth shut. One wrong move and she could blurt out her secret identity, dooming Paris along with her normal life and fail her partner. "Leave her alone!" Adrien bellowed, finally getting his legs to move and formed a human wall between the akuma and Marinette, arms spread wide. Nino and Alya yelled in agreement, forming the wall with him to protect their girl. "Why did you shoot her when she's the one who helped you back up? I thought you'd go for Chloe first!" The emerald eyed boy made subtle gestures to Alya and Nino, indicating that they take Marinette away whilst he stalls Unprivatiser for some time. Unknowingly to them, he was risking his secret identity too and judging with how Plagg's claws were digging into his chest through the inner pocket, he doesn't have much time and he better not mess this up. "That's the thing! Just because she helped me back up doesn't mean she didn't have any nasty thoughts running through her head. I want to know what she really was thinking when she supposedly helped me up. Did she think I was pitiful and gross? Did she think I was a tramp? It feels too good to be true for the school's sweetest girl in the world to help out a boy who pissed himself without any judgemental thinking, right?" Suddenly, Marinette's will completely shattered and her mouth opened without consent. "Oh my God, oh my God! If anyone finds out that I take bites out of Kit Kats, they'll have my head!" The girl grasped her hands back towards her mouth, oblivious to everyone else's dumbstruck faces and internally begged her body to listen to her mind. Her hand and mouth seemed to think otherwise. "I also like drinking ice cold water straight after brushing my teeth because the sting helps wake me up better than coffee!" Was the next thing Marinette blurted out. The only thing she could do was pace and her hands tugged on her twin tails. Nino and Alya exhaled in relief, thanking heaven for not ruining Mari's day. "Hey- Le Papillon? What the hell is this?" The butterfly silhouette appeared over Unprivatiser's face, irritation pumping through his veins. Thus, a one-sided argument was heard and Adrien took the opportunity to usher his friends out of the danger zone. He kept his hands behind Marinette's shoulders and nodded towards the others to follow him so that they can hide elsewhere. Much to his dismay, Alya had her phone whipped out to livestream the villain whilst Nino slumped to his knees in hopelessness. Once his girlfriend makes a decision, she sticks to it, no matter what. Shaking his head, he supposed that with them two out of the way, it would be easier to find a secluded place to transform. First, he needs to get Marinette to safety. "We'll head to your bakery, how does that sound?" Adrien asked gently and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly as he sped them towards her home. "N-N-No! Ack! Your father is supposed to be a fashion designer so what's with the revolting candy cane, white mocha frappuccino, whipped cream looking ass clothes he wears on a daily basis!?" The girl snapped her hands back against her mouth in horror, wishing for the ground to swallow her up. "White...mocha...frappuccino...?"

That's it... Forget about secret identities... She's clearly going to be hated by Adrien forever, never get married with him and have their three kids and a hamster, also get blacklisted from every fashion industry in Europe and die ALONE- "Pffft-" Her pitiful monologue within her chaotic mind was halted by an uncharacteristic snort from the blonde. That soon turned into laughter despite Adrien holding a fist against his lips. Before they knew it, he burst out laughing like no tomorrow, hooting against the wall and clutching his stomach. Tears streamed out of his eyes as he kept repeating what she said over and over again. Marinette didn't know whether to be embarrassed or savour this moment; it was the second time she's ever heard him laugh so freely ever since he gave her that umbrella in the rain.   "W-W-White mo-mocha frapp-frappuccino! Oh man! I can't unsee that now! Hahahah!" He collapsed on the floor, ignorant to any passerbyers' worried glances or mischievious expressions. "I can't believe it! Pffft!" "If you keep laughing like that, you'll make the sun envy you because of how much you shine compared to it..." Her tone was soft and loving at first but Marinette quickly gritted her teeth to prevent herself from saying anymore. Damn akuma...damn Adrien and his beautiful laugh! The boy appeared to be awestrucked from her words, clearing the laughter away from his system and butterflies erupted in his stomach. He lowered his eyes sweetly with a chortle, cupping one of her hands with his and beamed. "Thank you, that's very sweet of you, Marinette," He didn't mind the way his heart richotated against his chest like it usually does around Ladybug. He's already had his freakout from his sudden discovery of his growing feelings for his shy classmate, months ago. Or perhaps they were there all along? He's not going to admit it out loud to avoid a smug, insufferable kwami though. "Not as sweet as the three containers of sugar I devoured when I was five." The poor girl smacked her forehead and growled, cursing the akuma whilst it continued to argue with Le Papillon in the park. Adrien bit his lip to avoid laughing again. Though it was oh so tempting to tease her... It wouldn't harm anyone, would it? Just to let a bit of his Chat Noir side seep out? "Is that so~?" He smirked. Marinette instantly grasped his game, a cute scowl took over her face as she took a step back. Adrien took a large step forward in retaliation. He should go and transform right now...but teasing Marinette is so fun! Surely Ladybug won't mind if he's late for a minute or two, considering how harmless the akuma is? "When I first saw snow, I thought it was icing sugar and proceeded to try and eat it." Mari sucked her teeth in, walking backwards, trying to get away from the devious blonde. "How adorable, do tell more," He followed her steps, arms behind his back. He didn't care that they were headed to some random direction instead of the safe destination he wanted Marinette to be at earlier on. "Grrr- I freaked out when I visited a farm a couple of years ago because some chickens stole my crisps. They were roast chicken flavour and I thought they committed cannibalism!" "Oho?" "Turns out, they were only artificially flavoured." "Thank God for that," "I wish God was nice to me for once and allowed me a day where I don't embarrass myself." She systematically glared at the sky before back at the snickering model. "I wouldn't say that this is embarrassing," "Yeah you're right, not as embarrassing as when I accidentally called Monsieur. Damocles 'Papa' last week," "I think that's also very cute." Adrien's grin broadened when Marinette's back hit a lampost, leaving her no room to run now. The cat and mouse game has finally come to an end- an inside  joke he sadly couldn't say out loud despite how fitting it was for the situation due to secret identities. "Not as cute as that little baby with its parents over there, I hope one day my kids look as cute as them," Marinette was distracted by the family scurrying away from the park, a subtle smile rested on her lips. Adrien felt his heart skyrocket and let out an inaudible gasp. He leaned into her face, prompting her to flush and look away. She so was going to kill him after the akuma is purified. "They definitely will be since their mother is so beautiful," Boldly, Adrien brushed his knuckles against her fringe, gazing into her with such strong intensity that Marinette could have sworn that she was looking at... Chat Noir. "You remind me of a certain feline who made himself home with half of my heart," 

Sapphire orbs and emerald orbs widened simultaneously with matching gasps, inducing the former to dash off with a squeal and bidding goodbye to any potential romantic chances she had with Adrien. After all, who on earth compares their best friend to their crush when he's flirting with you? Why was he flirting with a klutz like her in the first place?! "You have terrible tastes in women!" Marinette cried out mournfully, not looking back to see Adrien's reaction. If she did, she would have seen how his face took on a raspberry hue, one hand grasping his face and eyes still wide. His heart thundered and his body shook ever so slightly. "Plagg...? Does that mean...she's still in love with Chat Noir?" The lazy God popped his head out of his safe pocket and narrowed his eyes with a smirk. "Ooooh? What's with that face? I thought Princess was 'just a friend' to you, kid." This caused the blood to flare up in Adrien's cheeks again. He could feel the vibrations of Plagg's quiet laughter for goodness sake! Swallowing down his pride, Adrien shook his head. "Don't tease me now...you're the first to point out my crazy crush on her anyways..." Plagg didn't get a chance to retort back as the sounds of the akuma yelling and the crowd scattering filled the air. "Anyone who disagrees with the fact that mayonnaise and pizza is a Godly combination, deserves to face my wrath! Especially the pineapple-stans!" "If I have to suffer with the fact that our intestines are basically eels in our body, so do you!" "I can't break the habit of dipping my fries in my milkshakes..." "My boss still hasn't realised that I'm the one who stole his donuts!" "I feel like pissing on the moon." "What is love~! Baby don't hurt me! Don't hurt me! No more~" "I don't know whether to be horrified or amused with how similar Gabriel Agreste's hair looks compared to a duck's ass- oH SHIT HIS SON HEARD ME-" Stifling another laughing fit, Adrien darted off to a remote alleyway to finally transform. Contrary to popular beliefs, everytime someone makes a dig or jab at his father, Adrien can't help but agree most of the time. There is no justification for such horrendous hair after all- and his daily clothing now that he thinks about it. "Heheh...mocha frappuccino though Plagg..." His snickers started to build up, regardless to his kwami's groans. Thankfully, he composed himself in a matter of seconds and transformed. ~(x)~ "Long time no see, My Lady!" Chat Noir performed a perfect acrobatic flip, landing elegantly on his feet and grinned with his iconic cheshire smirk. It was wiped off after Unprivatiser dodged another one of Ladybug's yoyo swings whilst she tried to clamp her mouth shut with her free hand. She leapt back so that she was by Noir's side, smiling painfully before smacking her hand back on her lips. Chat suddenly realised the severity of the issue, letting out a colourful swear for wasting time earlier on and was about to clasp his hands against her lips when her hands fell. Ladybug CANNOT reveal her identity! "It took you long enough you slowpoke! Any second later and I'd have blurted out how I fell asleep in my bowl of cereal this morning!" Well, too late for that. "Where were you? Busy flirting with other girls? Hmmph!" It was literally killing the boy to not laugh right now. "Just the one, Bugaboo~ You remind me of her a lot so I suppose I have a type?" Chat mused out loud, dodging the beams that Unprivatiser threw. Whilst the villain shrieked for their miraculouses, the black cat continued. "Jealous?" He twirled his baton to deflect more of the beams, in sync with Ladybug twirling her yoyo. "I shouldn't be but I bloody I am," Just like that, Chat Noir's whole world came to a halt and Ladybug's pride was finally tattered to smithereens. "W-What?" "Don't make me say how you've already infected half of my heart with your stupid gooey kitty eyes and dumb affections and annoying power of turning my heart into a jackhammer every time you're near!" The blonde teen couldn't believe his ears. "Holy shit..." He whispered softly. "This isn't real..." Their distraction costed them dearly. The duo was instantly engulfed in the akuma's golden beam, the boy admonishing for the jewels once again and made his displeasure of their 'flirting' clear. "Just hurry up and gimme! I have the most dumbest power ever and if I get those jewels, butterfly man will give me an upgrade so that I can finally teach Bourgeois a lesson!" Unprivatiser ignored the old villain's muttering of "It's Le Papillon you brat..." in his mind, getting ready to tackle the heroes. "I'm already a bit of a stereotypical blonde dummy and I don't need your dumb powers to dumb me down even further! Though to be fair the amount of anime I have watched has stunted my view on social norms-" Chat spluttered out without control, close to slapping his hand against his lips by instinct. However, he processed his words and hummed. "This isn't too bad, right Lovebug?" He cheekily elbowed her side with a wink, heart fluttering from her sudden confession and mind still trying to process that. "At least you didn't have to make a fool out of yourself in front of the two boys you love," She dragged them both away to another rooftop with the swing of her yoyo. She really wanted to just get rid of this akuma and run back home without a word but her mind was already combusting to the brim with unsaid words that desperately wanted to be spilled. "You love me too?!" Chat almost lost his footing. "B-B-But I think I love the other girl too-" "FANTASTIC! Perfect timing! The moment I lost my chance with the other dumbass and finally confess to you after so long-" "That long!?" "MISS WONDER GIRL decides to show up and now you're smitten with HER!" "To be fair, I was crushing on her ever since I met her-" "REMARKABLE! I really am destined to be alone! All cos I told him that he reminded me of you!" "Wait- WHAT-" Chat Noir didn't get a chance to comprehend the puzzle he's accidently solved. "JUST. GIVE. ME. YOUR. MIRACULOUSES!" Unprivatiser shot himself against the building the heroes were standing on like a bullet, demolishing it into pieces. He was fast but they were much faster. Ladybug and Chat Noir landed on the barren street. Their bodies seem to be on attack mode but their minds were still in a huge mess. "OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod-" Was all that Chat was able to muster, never letting his lovestruck eyes leave his Lady's form as she summoned her lucky charm. "I knew it, I called it, I KNEW THAT YOU'RE- wait...is that Lucky Charm..." . . . "...White mocha frappuccino? Like Gabriel Agreste's ugly clothes?" Neither her nor Unprivatiser were able to exchange anymore words as Chat Noir abruptly collapsed into a puddle of guffaws and laughter. His fists slammed against the floor and he was unable to stop the words from spilling his mouth over and over again. "Oh man...it was only ever one guy I made myself a fool of..." Ladybug sighed out, albeit fondly. She'll freak out later but for now, she's got a job to do. "N-Now, now! I recall mentioning that it was cute a few time, Princess," Chat heaved himself off the floor, leaning against his Lady's shoulder for support so that he doesn't fall into another laughing fit again. "...It's not fair that you've barely said any embarrassing things despite getting hit by the beam," Ladybug puffed a cheek out, tossing the frappuccino at the akuma's lower midriff when he tried to attack again, soaking him instantly. "That's because I am the incarnate of embarrassment anyways. Plus, I always say what's on my mind regardless. Like that one time I asked what Pere and Mere were doing in the dark when I stumbled into their room- I think I was five? Maybe four-" He softly cataclysmed the cloak that Unprivatiser wore, replaced by ashes and a fluttering corrupted butterfly. The magic wore off and in place was a timid looking boy wearing the spare clothes that the school gave him after his accident. "Weren't they hugging? That's what my parents always tell me every time I enter their room after hearing weird noises." She purified the butterfly and performed the miraculous cure. "Oh my God...are you really that innocent?!" Chat only received a confused blink from her. A blush took over his face and his need to protect her increased by tenfolds. ~(x)~

The dynamic duo comforted the poor boy for a bit, giving him an extra confidence boost before leaping away as their final minutes beeped in their miraculouses. Naturally, Ladybug and Chat Noir chose a deserted classroom in their school as their destination, considering how lunch time was almost over. A heavy silence was left in the air and the two couldn't help but look anywhere else but at each other's eyes. Their transformation crackled away in sync, leaving behind two astonished teenagers and their hungry companions (the kwamis dived into Marinette's purse to ensure that their charges had some privacy). It was one thing to know. It was another thing to see. Marinette connected her two pointer fingers, looking down at them as her cheeks pinkened into a delightful sakura shade, tempting Adrien to kiss them. The boy in question had a hand itching the back of his head but couldn't help but let a silly smile grow on his lips. One look at his face had Marinette's follow suit. They snickered at first, trying hard to stay composed but one more glance at each other caused them to break out into giggles. What an eventful day! "I can't believe I got outed by a frappuccino- heh!" Adrien joyfully opened his arms, inviting Marinette to step into them so that he could wrap her in an embrace. The girl wrapped her arms around his waist, sighing happily into his chest. "Don't know if it beats me getting outed by confessing that I confessed to you that I liked you...?" Her nose scrunched up charmingly. "That makes no sense." "You rejected me, for me, I rejected you, for you but fell in love with you despite you and you fell in love with me despite me, yes, ten out of ten sense in the romance department." Marinette rolled her eyes at Adrien's dramaticness. "All of this drama and heartache could have been resolved if it weren't for the identities, Chaton! Ugh!" "Please...my brain hurts too much already from all of this." "I want to go home and scream into my pillow, or devour every single pastry at the bakery...anything to keep my mouth busy," "Oh?" Slowly, Marinette pulled away, only getting as far as a few centimeters away due to the way Adrien's arms locked itself around her body. He didn't seem to intend on letting her go anytime soon. "You could..." She bit her lip, not missing the way his eyes flickered down there for a second. "Kiss me instead?" Adrien's eyes darkened at her request and brought his hands to cup her cheeks and tilt it upwards so that their eyes could meet. He moved closer with a careful procision. He tilted his head at a perfect angle and his fingers dug into her dark tresses. Their foreheads were now touching, letting their hair entangle with one another and their chests were pressed against the other. Marinette let her eyes flutter shut the moment she felt his warm breath hit her lips whilst her heart was close to exploding in anticipation. Their lips brushed every so softly and then- "You know, we still have to talk about your unlawful ways of eating a Kit Kat." The moment was gone. . . . ~(x)~ A/N: It's almost five in the morning... I hope you're all h a p p y .

[asoftervirge]

Of “Love” & Murder - (12/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Revenge, Like Chocolate, Can Be Both Bitter and Sweet

RATING: M PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: Remus Sanders, mentions of Satanic symbolism, Ted Bundy/Jeffrey Dahmer/serial killer references, Rocky Horror Picture Show reference, Poison, Swearing, mentions of Janus Sanders, referenced Smut, Smutty Thoughts, mentions of Sex Toys, Thanatophobia (fear of dying), mentions of Previous Deaths, various Methods of Murder, mentions of Violence, Descriptions of Murder, brief mention of Prison Rape, Dumpster Diving, Eating/Eating Gross Food, talks of Grey Morality, Morally Grey Patton, Baking/Food mentions CHAPTER SUMMARY: Patton meets with Remus.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here we are! We’re now at the second to last chapter! Despite the low reception of this fic, I’m very happy with it and it’s been so much fun posting it and seeing everyone’s reactions to it. Fun fact: I’m not real sure what rating this chapter would be under. Obviously it has mature stuff because of Remus, but it’s not too extreme to where no body can read it. It’s not a murder chapter, but he does talk about murder, so maybe it’s best to leave it M rated. lol Happy All Hallow’s Eve, everyone! Have fun reading! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

To say Patton was nervous was an extreme understatement.

He was pacing back and forth in an alleyway— the location where Remus wanted to meet— going between fiddling with the hem of his sweater, and twirling a stray curl of hair. Blue eyes frantically scanned the dingy place he was in, not wanting to suddenly be jumped by a dangerous stranger.

Brick walls were stained with something the confectioner didn’t want to know what. Droplets of water from the gutters above dropped down onto the cobblestone. Garbage cans were tipped over, rotting food and other things made the air smell putrid.

A black cat scurried from behind one and past his feet, meowing loudly.

Patton squeaked and flinched as it went by. After collecting himself, he started to fidget more.

He hoped Remus would be here soon. With every minute he was in this alley, he was growing more and more frightened.

Despite this, he tells himself that this is worth it.

For Roman.

For Logan.

For Dorian.

For himself.

In the midst of his self-panic and self-reassurances, Patton didn’t catch the sounds of the metal fence behind him being scaled upon.

“So, you’re Patton Hart, hmm?” A high-pitched, slightly screechy voice said.

Patton yelped and spun around, instantly being greeting with the sight of Remus.

The man looked completely different from Roman, it was almost hard to believe that they were brothers, let alone twins. While the former thespian was composed, elegant, and beautiful, Remus…was anything but.

He looked like a rebellious punk, to put it simply.

Remus’ hair was oily-looking, very unkempt and scrappy; dark brown, almost black in color with touches of green hair dye in it and a single streak of silver. He was clad in a leather biker vest, various patches decorating it, and a fishnet shirt underneath which displayed all of his bruises, cuts, and scabs. His pants almost reminded him of Virgil’s jeans: ripped yet his were baggy as opposed to tight-fitting. His ankle boots were spiked, decorated with an upside down cross and a symbol that looked to be very satanic.

As a matter of fact, all of his jewelry appeared to be just that: skulls and satanic symbols. They were predominantly pieces that littered his neck, but he was also studded with a lot of piercings: a labret plus a lip, multiple ear and eyebrow ones, a chained nose, and a belly button. And all of them were silver as opposed to the gold Roman used to wear.

Looking at him twice over, Remus seemed to be a combination of Roman, Remy, and Toby.

Patton quickly straightened himself up, not wanting the other man to see just how scared he was.

“And you must be Remus Duke,” he responded back. His voice shook a little as he spoke. “I have to say, and I hope you don’t think me rude, but you looking nothing like your brother.”

Remus snorts. “That’s a compliment.” He tells him. “I’d rather not be a goody-goody Abel like my brother was.” He looked Patton up and down, giving him a quirked expression, “Ain’t you a bit saccharine to get help from me? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for beddy-bye time?”

“No!” Patton yells stubbornly. He recoils and tries again. “I-I mean, no. I really, really need your help, Remus. This is the only way I can truly stop Virgil.”

“Ha ha! So you’re also Virgil’s newest boy toy!” Remus grinned manically. Patton squealed and shivered in disgust at that. “I swear he goes through boy toys faster than either Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer did with their victims. Well, not as fast, but—”

“C-Cut it out!” Patton shrieked, stomping his foot in childish anger. He grew sickened at the thought of a monstrous killer like Bundy or a twisted cannibal like Dahmer, and comparing Virgil to them just made it worse.

(It was in that moment when the confectioner remembered the words Dorian told him before he divulged into how he was murdered. While Virgil was a horrible individual, he was nothing like how those men were. They were all criminals, yes, but the widower was somehow of a lesser evil.)

Trying to relax his shoulders, Patton asked again. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Still grinning, Remus jumped off the fence and onto the cobblestone. It wasn’t pleasant sounding as he fell flat on his ass. But he appeared to be okay as he shot straight into the air and began fishing through his pockets, humming Touch-a , Touch-a, Touch-a Touch Me under his breath while he searched.

“Ha ha!” he exclaimed when he finally found what it was he was looking for. He pulled out a vial of sinister-looking liquid, skull and crossbones marked on the front of it.

Poison.

Cyanide, to be more specific.

“This should be the very thing that’ll fuck Virgy-poo up!” Remus exclaimed happily. Then he pouted. “Lucky bastard,” he mumbled. “Just put this in whatever it is you’re gonna give him and watch with glee as he chokes and dies! Ooh, that sounds fun! Can I come and watch too?!”

“No!”

Remus pouted more, actually looking sad.

Patton was about to walk over and grab the vial but Remus stopped him.

“Not so fast, Mr. Fluffy Butthole.” Patton scrunched his nose. A serious look was in Remus's emerald green eyes. “Why do I have the stinky feeling this is for more than just my brother?”

The confectioner reeled back. “…What?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten my number from Toby and call me by saying ‘how would you feel about helping me avenge your brother’ without wanting to do more.” Remus narrowed his gaze. “You wanna avenge Virgil’s other husbands too, don’t you? Spouses or whatever they were.”

Patton opened his mouth to try and say something, but all he could do was sigh and nod. “You’re right,” he finally tells him. “It’s for more than just your brother. It’s also for Virgil’s second spouse, Logan Oxford—”

“That author who seemed so stubborn xe had a stick up xyr butt? Man, xe needed to get laid.”

“…xe were asexual…”

“…Emotionally laid, then.”

“You mean having a loving, supportive relationship?”

Remus gagged. “Don’t be lewd!”

“Xe were also aromantic.”

“I could’ve helped with that!” Remus grinned. “But if xe were also asexual, then it would’ve been no dice. Hehe, dick ice, hehe!”

Patton ignored him and continued on from before. “— and his third, Dorian Cain—”

“Ah! The serpent-y lawyer whose tongue was for more than lying!” Remus grinned more. Since he was a little closer to him, Patton could see the yellow of his teeth. “I’ve heard that he and Virgil were a lot alike. Plus, they were really able to get” – he wriggled his hips – “it” – he started thrusting “on!”

The confectioner blinked, then sighed deeply and tiredly. How exactly was he Roman’s twin brother? (He could practically hear Roman sighing along with him).

“I was in cahoots with him, you know!” Remus tells him, still thrusting for some silly reason.

“So I’ve heard,” Patton tells him, not wanting to delve into details about the supernatural encounters he had. He didn’t need to give this guy the time of day. “They said you called him about wanting him to find evidence on Virgil, but he said no.”

“Yep!” Remus stopped mid-thrust and emphasized on the p. “He accused me of wanting to slander a celebrity, like everybody else did. But it was also because he didn’t want to put his own husband on trial or some other bullshit.”

He blinked then continued thrusting. “I wonder what would’ve happened if I got to him first?” he mumbled to himself in curiosity. He turned to Patton with a grin. “You think Virgil is great in bed? I would’ve given that lawyer the time of his life! We would’ve fuck for days and weeks on end using all the neat kinky toys I have! Plus, all the crazy flexible sex positions?!” He bobbed his head from side-to-side, singing. “Anyone Virgil could do, I could do better~!”

Apparently, Virgil did that and then some, Patton couldn’t help but think to himself, suddenly being reminded of how explicit Virgil and Dorian were. (If the lawyer were here, he’d probably be flattered and chuckle in his ear).

“But it’s more than them too!” the confectioner exclaims, continuing on from where he left off previously. “It’s for any other potential victim of Virgil’s…and me too…”

“Oh?!” This intrigued Remus as he now had Patton’s full attention. “How so?” He could see the confectioner tugging and fiddling with his sweater. Remus actually saw him doing this when he was stalking the alleyway. It must be a grounding mechanism for him or something, kind of like how he plays with his fingers.

“Because—because I’m scared of dying.”

Remus blinked. “You are?”

“Yes— Of course, I am!” Patton didn’t know why the other man was acting like dying isn’t something to be feared. Because, to him, especially in this circumstance, it was. “If I don’t do anything to stop Virgil, I’m scared I’m gonna die. And I don’t wanna die.”

Tears came to his eyes, he rubbed them away with a fist.

“I don’t want to end up like the others. I don’t want a ribbon around my neck, or arsenic in my belly, or a bullet in my head. I don’t want to have my life cut short by someone who might actually want me dead!”

Now he had both fists rubbing harshly at his cheeks. “There’s so much of my life I want to live. There was so much of their lives that they had yet to live. And I want to be able to avenge that…I want my friends, and even you, to be at ease knowing they finally found peace.”

Remus watched awkwardly as Patton cried in front of him. He wasn’t all that good with the emotional, cutesy, kind-wordsy stuff like his brother was. But if Roman was in this situation, he would know what to do better than anyone else.

He knew the moments when his brother would need a hug, and this would be one of them.

So, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Patton, letting him sob into his shoulder.

Patton curled further into him, not caring that he smelled of body odor and garlic.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay. It’ll all be a-okay.”

The confectioner sniffled. “How do you know that?” he asked, voice thick with emotion.

“Because that mean, nasty Virgil’s gonna get what’s coming to him!” Remus tells him. He takes Patton’s tear-stained glasses and licked them clean. He then walked over to a garbage can and fished out a dirty napkin to wipe them with. “Here you go!”

Patton grimaced as he put his… ‘newly cleaned’ glasses back on.

“Even if Roman didn’t like me all that much, he was one of my favorite people,” Remus continues. “And I was incredibly upset when he was killed, or ‘committed suicide,’ as the police suspected.” He narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to bring Virgil to court, I really did, but there was no evidence left at the crime scene.”

Remus snarled; fists clenched together tightly. “When they told me that…I was thinking of contemplating murder myself.” He shook his head. “There were so many things I wanted to do to him.” He began counting on his fingers, “Disembowel him, let my pet rats feed on his body, flood my teeth with his spine, build a sandcastle out of his ashes. You name it, I wanted to do it.”

Patton got visibly sickened with each possible method of murder and violence.

“And yet I couldn’t do anything. I may be a wildcard, but Virgil is much more cunning. He’s slipperier than a bar of prison soap.” Patton dared not ask what he meant by that. “Plus, he might’ve expected that I would come and destroy him when I got the chance. So, there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“But you tried though,” the confectioner says. “Despite there not being evidence, you still went and contacted Dorian Cain to try and see what would happen.”

Remus nodded. “Well, yeah. I figured I might as well eat the bullet and chew until I’m forced to spit it out. And so, I called Dorian’s law firm and asked anyway. Even though I was told ‘no,’ something deep within my dick told me that he might try and do something in secret. When I saw in the papers that he had also killed himself, I thought my chances were ruined for good.”

“However,” he then held out the vial of poison for Patton to take. He could see just how dirty his fingers were: bruised, chewed-up fingernails, chipped black and green nail polish, and grime around the cuticles. “You can be the one to finish him off. Do what me and Dorian couldn’t, and put that murdering piece of shit in the ground where he belongs.”

At first, Patton seemed hesitant about taking it from him, but after everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s heard, everything he’s feared, his resolve was hardened.

He takes the vial and stuffs it in his pocket.

Standing closer to Remus, he can see the details he couldn’t see from afar: flakes of dandruff in his hair; messy, purple, smoky eyeshadow; black lipstick that was slightly smeared; a little bit of stubble growing above his lip; along with any other cuts, bruises, and scabs on his skin.

Not only that, he could see the various patches on his biker vest; only a small handful of them were satanic and anarchist symbols, while the rest were a mixture of things Remus must enjoy. A green sword with tentacles coming from it, a Morningstar, an anatomical heart, a bloodshot eyeball, a skeleton, a peach, a couple octopi and krakens, an alien, a peach, a hazardous symbol, some that involve cursing and parental advisory, some dark Disney ones, an opossum with he/him pronouns, the aromantic flag, and lastly, one that has ‘Duke’ on it in graffiti.

Despite his appearance, Patton might consider this gross man…not so much a friend, but an ally.

“…Remus?” Said man leans in closer, making Patton bend back. “…Thank you. Truly. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without your help.”

He waved nonchalantly. “Eh, don’t worry about it,” he tells him. He walks over to one of the garbage cans and starts rummaging through it once more. “It’s the least I can do. Being an assistant— heh, ass-istant— is better than being forced to sit back and do nothing.” He pulls out a rotting banana, unpeeling it and then taking a bit bite out of it.

Patton looked like he was going to throw up.

Mid-chew, he looked back at the confectioner. “You know,” he mumbled, browning banana flying out of his mouth. “For someone who looks all pure and morally righteous, you gotta little bit of grey in ya.”

“I’m only doing this for good.”

“Maybe,” Remus gulps loudly then takes another huge bite. “But you’re still planning on killing him. No matter how you justify it, redrum is redrum.”

“Redrum?”

“Murder. The Shining. Stephen King.”

Patton hummed.

“Seriously though, who am I to talk morals schmorals to you? Good and bad is all made up nonsense!” Another loud gulp, another big bite. “So! When are you gonna do the do?”

“You mean do the deed?”

“Same thing!”

“Tomorrow.”

“Ooh! On Halloween night too!” Remus grinned excitedly. Patton had honestly forgotten that it would be Halloween, having been so preoccupied with everything has was going on at 613 Rue Morgue. “Are you suuure I can’t come with you?”

“I’m sure, Remus. Thank you.”

Remus pouts again, but he quickly shrugged it off.

“Ah well,” he drops the banana peel at his feet. Litter bug. He started to scale up the fence, allowing Patton to see the large green kraken that covered his back. “I guess I’ll leave the rest to you. Good luck, Patton!”

With a gleeful wave, Remus jumps over and disappears into the shadows from whence he came.

Patton stays in his spot for the longest time.

Maybe…he was a bit grayer than he realized. Through his entire life, he was never really challenged on his morals. He always played by the rules and laws of life, not wanting to face the punishments for having done something wrong.

But now, he was.

He was faced with someone who had a complete disregard for them and is walking a free man with three murders (maybe even more) stained on his hands.

And here he was, wanting to change all of that.

Like he said to Remus, it was for a good cause: to have their spirits be appeased and to have Virgil never commit any heinous crimes ever again. Even if the solution was a permanent one.

Maybe…the other man was right. Maybe…good and bad really is made up nonsense.

With the thoughts of his newly-placed morals in his head, Patton finally left the alleyway.

The alleyway that Remus chose was in the lower part of town, the shadier and troublemaking part to be specific. And even though Patton could have chosen to take his car, he walked since he lived close by in the lower regions of downtown.

It was a long but much needed walk for the confectioner to take.

While the air proved to be chilly, the autumn leaves dropped down onto the ground, creating a little ombre of colors on the sidewalk. The night sky was a trifecta of rich purples, deep blues, and cool blacks. Dots of white twinkled above, making the picturesque scene complete.

Patton looked around at all the holiday decorations that were on display. All of the ghosts, witches, scarecrows, and grim reapers all gave him a bit of a fright. The fake tombstones and giant rope spider webs made him squeak and turn his head for a split second. But he smiled at seeing the differently carved jack-o-lanterns— some more intricate than others— and the outdoor lights that glowed in various colors, like orange, purple, green, blue, red, white, and black. Though what really got a giggle out of him, were the inflatables that stood on each lawn; some were of pumpkins, others were black cats, and was the occasional spooky tree.

Many people love going all out on Halloween, and the confectioner was one of them, having spent so many hours throughout September and October transforming the interior of his shop.

He continued walking into downtown, fog hovering over the street lamps as the air grew a little denser and colder. The streets were slightly bustling as people were walking to and from various stores, all in last-minute preparation for tomorrow night. Many of them were families, with children bouncing up and down excitedly about their costumes while the parents held bags that were presumably filled with candy and other goodies.

It all made Patton smile, for he had that same childish whimsy.

The confectioner didn’t stop walking until he came to a very familiar brown building, the words Patty’s Sweet Confectionaries swirled in fancy but readable font on the window.

Patton took a minute to gently trace his fingers across the white lettering. He still remembers the first day he opened its doors, a young and bright-eyed man who simply wanted to spread the sugary joy that his grandmother used to give him.

With a deep breath, he walked into his confectionery shop, the jingle of the bell above the door made his heart swell up a little. Once inside, he gazed around, nostalgia and melancholy shone in his eyes as he flipped on the lights.

Golden chandeliers glowed from the cream-colored ceiling as the shop became illuminated, presenting the changes that Patton had made. The only other things that remained the same were the dark brown and white tile, and the wooden stands and tables dressed with dishes and bowls, but what filled them had changed since September.

Eyeball-shaped white chocolate truffles, and ghostly popcorn balls were now the specialty treats for the holiday; along with cookies in the shape of skeletons, and white chocolate bark with candy corn. In the display case were still the traditional chocolates, but there were also pumpkin spiced cakes and cupcakes, along with macaroons of varying monstrous design and Frankenstein cereal treats.

However, the two favorites were front and center: gooey marshmallow, and glistening candy apples. The best part about them? The marshmallow is dyed in accordance to the holiday, and the candy apples were also coated with white icing to make it look like Snow White’s poisoned one from the Disney movie.

Walking in further, he plugged in the decorative lights that hung from the walls. The miniature pumpkin luminary bags added another layer of festive spirit to the store, and they paired nicely with the cutout garlands Patton had made some-years back.

The confectioner tenses up as he feels vial of poison roll into his hands from inside his pocket.

A part of him still feels conflicted about doing something like this.

Obviously he knows what Virgil did was horrible and wrong, but on the other hand, he wished there was a much simpler way to see his downfall come to fruition. But as Remy and Toby said, if the police were working with him, then it was impossible to see lawful justice be served to him. (Dorian tried it, and look what happened.)

So this was the only option he had left.

Resolve slowly hardening, Patton made his way to the kitchen to begin work.

He began pulling out giant mixing bowls— both silver and copper, measuring cups, double boilers, spoons and forks, and a plethora of ingredients in order to create the perfect box of poisonous chocolates.

Patton didn’t need to think about which ones he would give to the widower, he knew the recipes for each one by memory.

The first recipe read:
 “1 lb of dark chocolate 16 maraschino cherries with the stem 3 tablespoons softened butter 3 tablespoons light corn syrup 2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar”

Parts of the second read:
 “2/3 cups dark chocolate chips 1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons of heavy cream A dash of cinnamon”

The third read:
 “7 oz. finely chopped dark chocolate 1/3 cup espresso ½ tablespoons unsalted butter ½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder”

And finally, the fourth read: 
“1 cup melted cocoa butter 1 tablespoon cocoa powder 3 tablespoon dark chocolate ½ teaspoon almond extract”

Within each recipe, he made sure to add the cyanide poisoning into the mixtures, adding a bit more than necessary so that it wouldn’t be masked by any of the other ingredients. (He wore protective gear, of course. The same mask and gloves he wore whenever he dabbled in making anything featuring liquid nitrogen.)

Hours later, he had batches cooling on racks and baking sheets. And after checking that he had a perfect set of thirty-two, he began the decorating process. Glazes, icings, and sugars scattered about in the air and dusted his face, hair, and fingers.

Once everything was done up all nice and pretty, Patton placed them all in a box: a black one topped with a bow of dark violet ribbon.

Patton stood back and observed his craftsmanship. A deep frown slowly made its way to his face.

The first part of the deed was done…

…now? It was time for Virgil to have a taste of his own chocolatey medicine.

[victorineb]

On a moonlit Halloween night… 

“This is ridiculous. How are we getting away with this?” Will had adopted a theatrical whisper that, in Hannibal’s opinion, was more likely to draw attention than their current, admittedly fairly dramatic, appearance.  

“Most people do not share our intimate familiarity with the substance,” Hannibal whispered back, leaning into the side of Will’s throat to breathe in the scent of blood and sweat. “Nor your particular fondness for it, my love,” he added, just to see Will blush like he hadn't ravished Hannibal next to a still-warm corpse not half an hour ago.

“Shut up,” Will said, elbowing Hannibal in the side as if irritated, though the smile he couldn’t quite rein in put the lie to that idea. “They’re so content in their blindness. We’re dripping in viscera and yet the guys in the giant Pikachu suit got more attention than we have.”

“Are you disappointed, mylimasis? Were you hoping to instil terror amongst the crowd, to watch as they shrank from your magnificence, to bask in their fear as they recognised the hunter in their midst?”

“Shut. Up!” This time Will grabbed Hannibal and shoved him against a convenient wall, immediately pissed off that the fond, amused smile on Hannibal’s face didn’t falter for a moment. He shoved his leg between Hannibal’s thighs – causing a symphony of plastic squealing as their murder suits rubbed together – and that got a reaction, Hannibal’s eyes fluttering as he snatched in a breath. Will let him wait for a moment, making no move other than to gently rock his leg against the stiffness he could feel rising beneath it. He watched Hannibal with the sharp gaze of a predator awaiting the moment their prey breaks from cover, and when Hannibal’s lips parted slightly, he surged forward to devour them.  

He allowed himself the span of two minutes to work Hannibal up, biting at his mouth and pressing against his body, hips rolling just enough to have Hannibal straining against his hold. Then, mercilessly, he pulled back completely, watching with satisfaction as the dazed look in Hannibal’s eyes turned dark and wanting. Will grinned.

“Now, behave. Or I will put a leash on you and teach you obedience.”

With a smack to his thigh just short of truly painful, Will turned from his panting cannibal and began sauntering off, pausing only to check that he was being followed and finding Hannibal peeling himself from the wall with a hungry gleam in his eye.

“Down boy,” he teased as Hannibal stalked towards him. “Blood’s one thing but a public sex show will attract an audience, even on Halloween.”

Hannibal stepped straight into his space, sliding his face into the crook of Will’s shoulder and breathing deep. “As if I would allow another’s eyes to behold you as you writhe in ecstasy,” he growled, biting tenderly at the tendon in Will’s neck. “Slaughter thousands in the clear light of day and I would only watch in admiration, but your body and your pleasure belong only to me, beloved.”

Will grinned, sharp and amused, then grabbed Hannibal’s hair and yanked him upwards. “Likewise,” he said, and once more crushed his lips to Hannibal’s, blood smearing and sliding messily between them. And when they parted this time, it was only to rush with hurried footsteps back home, hands clasped tight in promise of the closer touch that would-

“Murder husbands!”

Will tensed and froze mid-step. Hannibal suspected he would have already bundled the young man pointing at them into the nearest available alley had he not been held in place by Hannibal's grip on his arm. It wouldn't do for Will to go off half-cocked (the consequences tended to be messy) and, besides, it wasn't fear with which they were being regarded. The young man – early-twenties, clearly inebriated, dressed in a swirling black cloak and clutching a bright red sword of some sort – was beaming at the pair with enthusiastic delight.

“You're the first to correctly identify us,” Hannibal said, his tone affable and pleased and giving absolutely no hint that he would snap this young man’s rather scrawny neck at the first sign of a threat.

The young man grinned and shook his head. “Yeah, I bet most people think you're a couple of Patrick Batemans, with the plastic get-up and the blood. Dummies. Obviously you're them, Will and Hannibal; Bateman had a raincoat, not a onesie!”

Will fidgeted as their admirer rambled, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Hannibal, for his part, though not exactly pleased by the description of his hunting suit as a “onesie,” was rather amused by the young man’s familiarity with his story, allowing him to give a semi-factual account of their previous life he had clearly put together from Internet chatrooms and the ever-lurid speculation of one Freddie Lounds. Until:

“I mean, your costumes are almost perfect.”

Hannibal frowned. “Almost?”

“Yeah, I mean, obviously the real Will Graham's a lot shorter than your friend. Like, you should be towering over him, but I guess you can't do anything about that.”

“Indeed, I could hardly be said to dwarf my dear husband.”

“I mean, I guess you could wear lifts like Robert Downey... oh wait, you're really married? I thought maybe the rings were just part of the costume…”

“Mmm, for almost six months now,” Hannibal replied, squeezing Will’s arm and smirking at the glower he got in response.

“Ok, cool. So, also, your husband's way too built to be Will – the real one’s all scrawny and delicate, no muscles on him at all. The hair’s good though, and the scowling - it's amazing nobody realised Graham was a killer for so long, every photo of him looks like he'd murder everyone in a ten mile radius just for existing.”

“Might still,” Will muttered, so low that even Hannibal barely heard it. He smirked and tried not to get distracted by the image of Will cutting a bloody swathe through the throngs of be-costumed revellers. Instead, he delivered a small pinch to the inside of Will’s elbow and returned his attention to their admirer.

“Forgive me if I'm not too disappointed that my husband is a more impressive specimen than the actual Mr Graham,” he said, with a wink that automatically caused Will to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, don't blame you,” the young man grinned in response. “And you're pretty much dead on. I mean, you're not blond and your eyes aren't red but you've got his cheekbones, for sure. And the accent. Just one thing, though,”

“Oh?” Hannibal raised a brow.

“Well, it's just that Lecter would never go around being so obviously affectionate. I mean, he's an evil sociopath, right, so he can't feel love? Whereas you guys, it's so obvious that you're totally into each other, no way Lecter and Graham would behave like that. Especially you,” he said, gesturing towards a rapidly-less-amused Hannibal, “you were pretty much draped all over your ‘Will’ here, Lecter’s way too much of a cold fish for that!”

“Cold… fish…” Hannibal said, slowly, leaning into the young man’s space. “You know, your manners could be considered somewhat lacking, my friend…”

The young man’s expression faltered for the first time, the always-satisfying first gleam of fear flashing in his eyes. But just as Hannibal was about to kick his feet from under him and teach him the true meaning of horror, he heard a snicker from behind and felt Will pull him back to his side, nuzzling them together.

“Come on, babe, he already complimented the costumes, you don’t have to give him your scary Doctor Lecter impression too. Besides,” he added, leaning in to kiss his still-coiled husband on the cheek, “you know he’s right. I’d never have fallen for that uptight, pretentious, emotionless asshole. Not even if he does look fine as hell in those suits of his.”

Hannibal peered down at him, inscrutable. “Fine as hell, is that what you think?”

“Guilty secret, huh?” the young man asked, apparently recovered enough to watch them with the amusement of one who has no idea how close he is to death.

Will winked at him. “One of many, I’m afraid.”

“Ought I to be jealous of this fine young cannibal?” Hannibal purred, the monster already tucked back safely beneath the sheen of avuncular friendliness.

“Absolutely, I’m going to abandon you, my brand new husband, and run off with the fancy cannibal who has a habit of cutting into his boyfriends. What can I say, I can’t resist the lure of a romantic gutting.” Will grinned sweetly at Hannibal. “Come on, what kind of fool would do that?”

“Will Graham?” the young man suggested, clearly having bought Will’s lie hook, line and sinker.

“And I am most definitely not Will Graham,” Will said, nodding at him in agreement.

“Lucky for me, I guess,” the young man said. “Hey, any chance I could take a selfie with you?”

It was Will’s turn to tense at the suggestion – albeit it more out of a hatred of being photographed than any sense of danger – but thankfully Hannibal had never met a fool he couldn’t charm the sense out of. “Ah, but then you might be tempted to post it where the good people of the FBI could see and we couldn’t have that, could we?” He wagged a finger gently at the young man and Will thought that was spreading it on a bit thick but it seemed to work with the professorial persona Hannibal had adopted because the young man laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Ok, ok, I can take a hint. Wouldn’t want to wind up on your dinner table, right?”

“Definitely not,” Will agreed. “It’s from Ikea, it probably wouldn’t take your weight.”

The young man gave this a bigger laugh than it probably deserved, which meant he missed the fleeting, outraged glare Hannibal gave Will for even daring to suggest he would shop at Ikea. “Ok, well, I gotta go, lot of tricks still to be treated, you know? Have a good night!” He stood back and took one last look at Will and Hannibal, shaking his head and saying, “Man, those costumes really are almost perfect, glad I got to see them.” And then he turned and disappeared along the street, cape flowing out behind him.

“Fascinating,” Hannibal murmured.

“Dangerous,” Will countered.

“I suppose now would be your opportunity to say ‘I told you so.’”

Will’s head whipped round and he glared at Hannibal. “Yes it is and yes I did and if you thought I’d be above saying so then you know me about as well as that kid does.”

“At least he does not believe you to be such a cold fish that even a modest amount of public affection is wholly out of character.” Hannibal was actually pouting and Will melted like he was looking at the last puppy in the pound.

“Please, if our best disguise involves you acting like my own personal boa constrictor, I'm not gonna be unhappy about it. Besides,” he said, lacing his fingers together with Hannibal’s, “I think I'd rather keep the real real Hannibal Lecter my little secret.”

“Oh? And which Hannibal Lecter would that be?”

“The one who is both a bloodthirsty, brutal, beautiful killer and a heart-eyed, loved-up, hopelessly besotted little love bunny.”

“Will…”

“The one who both fucked up my life, manipulated me and tried to force me to be something I wasn't and who saw the real Will Graham and freed me from an existence that was slowly killing me.”

“Will…”

“The one who is both a gigantic, fussy, pretentious pain in my ass and the love of my fucking life. And I'm the only one who gets to see him. All of him.”

“All?” Hannibal echoed, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Will stepped in close and brought his lips to Hannibal’s ear, delivering a nip to the lobe before murmuring, “Yeah, but only if you can manage to get us home without any further incidents.”

Which, of course, Hannibal did, and in less than ten minutes to boot. For which trick, Will rewarded him with a quite magnificently big treat indeed.

[especially-heinous-ada]

Mankiller, Pt. 1

Hello, Tumblr world! It is with great pleasure that I finally unveil the first chapter of my brand spanking new Hannibal Au! Focused on Dr. Chilton and a mysterious female OC. I’m so excited to share my idea with you all, and I hope you enjoy it. In this chapter, the story begins...

As with all my other posts, please feel free to holler at me in the comments. I read them all, and always appreciate them! If you’re shy (I totally get it!) but still want to holler at me, hit up my asks as an anon. I love hearing your thoughts. Thank you to everyone for supporting my writing! Let me know if you enjoyed the first chapter and would like to read more.

Click, clack. Click, clack.

The hallway was as dark and quiet as it was empty. It had an almost eerie quality to it.

Drama queens. Always have to create ‘ambience.’ She scoffed as she drew ever-nearer to her destination.

Click, clack. Click, Clack. Her steps echoed through the halls as her stilettos struck the cold, stone tile. Her flowing dress billowed behind her as she moved swiftly, like a woman on a mission.

She reached the end of the hallway, where she pushed open a set of black double doors. They groaned loudly, announcing her arrival to the room’s occupants. At a massive, wooden table sat three men in suits.

“Hmph.” She pulled out a chair and slunk into it gracefully, alone at the far end of the table.

“Wouldn’t you rather come closer?” Called one of the men from across the table. “You look awfully lonely down there, Mankiller.” She rolled her eyes.

“I actually prefer being alone, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Frigid bitch.” He called back. The man seated in the center waved him down. His face was familiar. He was the one always present whenever she received an assignment. They called him Jay.

“We’ve done this song and dance plenty of times before, so I won’t bother with the pandering formalities. The government has utilized your…services…many times over the years. I understand, now, that you are looking to get out of the business? Slip into the darkness and not be bothered?”

She sighed loudly, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs.

“That is what I told your boss, yes. So why exactly am I here?”

“Same reason as always. There’s a threat, and we need it eliminated.”

“Boring. And you can’t just order your lackeys to do it, becaaaause….?”

“He’s murdered everyone who’s tried. Anyone who comes close to discovering his identity mysteriously disappears, only to reappear with pieces missing. So they’re bringing in the big guns for one last mission.”

She sat up straight in her chair, uncrossing her legs. He’d piqued her interest—it was obvious by her reaction. Now that he had her attention, he continued.

“These pieces… they’re internal organs, mostly. Not just a foot, or an arm—and not just a simple disemboweling where he takes everything out. No. He’s taking the time and effort to cut them open and remove certain, particular pieces.”

“You’re thinking he’s a cannibal.”

“Precisely. He’s operating out of a very specific region. He never goes too far, so he must be rooted in the community somewhere. There’s an FBI investigator on the case, but they can’t seem to crack it.”

“Oh, no. How shocking!” She snarked. Jay ignored her, used to the attitude by now.

“They’ve got a special detective working with them—some weirdo named Will Graham. He’s given some good insight, but we don’t have any solid leads, so they’re just ideas floating around in space.” He slid a file across the table.

“Every lead turns out to be a dead end, so they have no idea of his true identity. That’s where the legendary Mankiller comes in.”

“You want me to figure out who he is, then eliminate him.”

“Precisely.” She raised an eyebrow, then glanced down at the file, not bothering to open it.

“This freak got a name?”

“They’re calling him the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“A bit melodramatic.”

“You haven’t seen the crime scene photos. He’s causing mass hysteria.”

She scoffed.

“What do you say, Mankiller? One last mission?”

“If I do this, will you finally leave me alone? I’m sick of playing cleanup crew after the government’s sloppy work.” She said caustically, folding her arms as she met his gaze.

“If you do this, you can have anything you want. Just name it.”

Some goddamn peace and quiet would be nice. She thought before standing.

“Fine. I’ll do it. You owe me big for this one. I expect a big, fat retirement bonus at the end of this.” She said, grabbing the file off the table before turning and sweeping out of the room.

Click, clack. Click, clack. She set off down the cold hallway once again, opening up the file to peruse its contents, looking for a starting point.

Where to begin? She thought, quickly thumbing through pages of documents. She stopped when she saw a picture stapled to the top of what appeared to be a psychiatric report.

“The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. That’s a mouthful.” She let out a single chuckle. The document purported to be an analyzation of the Chesapeake Ripper’s psychological condition. Uninterested in the pretentious psychobabble splayed across the pages, she continued to flip through to find the author.

“Dr. Frederick Chilton. Never heard of him…Why don’t I start by paying the good doctor a visit?” She suspected he knew more than he was letting on in his rather brief report. Snapping the file shut, she strode down the hall. As annoying as it was to deal with the government’s favorite meatheads, she had to admit: the Mankiller always felt best when on an assignment. The more dangerous, the better. She smiled, feeling the rush of the hunt return once more. It’d been almost a year since she’d taken an assignment and she’d nearly forgotten the thrill of it all.

“Look out, Ripper. Here I come.”

************************

-The Next Day- The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane

As she stepped into the hospital, the Mankiller felt uneasy. She was never a fan of hospitals, or psychiatric wards. She suspected that if they could, Jay’s higher-ups might try to throw her in a place like this. Not that they could, of course. They needed her too much. Not to mention the fact that when they first started begging her to take assignments, she’d cleverly insisted they grant her immunity for all crimes—future, present and past. She smiled.

Sometimes, I even impress myself.

As she strode up to the front desk, she found two men conversing behind it. One wore a plan white dress shirt, no tie. He had plain, black hair buzzed short, and wore an unremarkable pair of plastic, black-rimmed glasses. A subordinate.

The other man was much more ostentatious, both in dress and manner. He wore an impressively stylish double-breasted suit, which she surmised must have cost a rather pretty penny. His hair was also dark, but longer, and gelled into a fashionable style. He wore a full beard, but it was meticulously groomed. It was obvious he cared very much about appearances.

Of the two, she deduced it would be most beneficial to approach the more flamboyant man. It was clear to her that he must be some sort of supervisor. That, combined with his overt attempts to appear attractive and successful made him a much easier target to manipulate, when compared to his subordinate, who’d be much too concerned about following rules or losing his minimum wage job.

“Hello.” She greeted pleasantly. The two kept talking, and she sighed. It looked like she was going to have to bring out the big guns. She leaned over the top of the desk, making her cleavage prominently visible, then cleared her throat.

“Excuse me, would one of you handsome men be able to help me?” She smiled. At that, the men turned to face her, finally breaking from their conversation. They seemed irritated at first, but quickly changed their tune after they had a moment to observe her.

“Certainly, I can help you with whatever you need; I am General Administrator of this facility.” The well-dressed man boasted, as predicted. “What can I do for you?”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Administrator.” The Mankiller smiled. “You see, I’m looking for someone here.”

“A doctor, or a patient?” The man asked curiously.

“Doctor.”

“Which doctor? Do you have an appointment?” The assistant butted in. The Administrator waved him down with an annoyed look.

“I’m looking for a Dr. Chilton?” The Administrator smiled spryly.

“Well, you’ve found him.” He replied, motioning to himself. “What did you need?”

“Actually, I’d really just like to speak to you, if that’s alright? Um, privately?” She was really laying it on thick now; giving the sexy voice, shooting him the steamy bedroom eyes, looking him up and down, the works. She was only partially acting; he was actually quite attractive, especially for a man in this line of work. She’d been expecting a grey-haired old fogey.  

His eyes widened slightly and one eyebrow rocketed upward to his forehead. He stuttered for a moment before managing a coherent response.

“Well, I don’t have any appointments scheduled until this afternoon… I suppose that would be alright. Follow me.”

Worked like a charm. Sure, seducing men with some cleavage and eye batting was cliché, but it was that way for a reason—it worked. Every. Damn. Time. Dr. Chilton should be thankful that he’s not my target, or he’d have just signed his own death warrant...with his penis.

She found the thought amusing and stifled a chuckle as Dr. Chilton stopped in front of a black wooden door with gold accents. He reached in his pocket to pull out his key and unlocked it, swinging it open and motioning for her to go inside. She thanked him and stepped in in front of him. He followed, carefully closing the door behind them.

“Feel free to have a seat wherever you’d—oh.” He’d turned to find her sitting, with her legs crossed, on top of his desk.

“Sorry, is this inappropriate?” She smiled salaciously.

“Perhaps. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, if you won’t.” He winked.

I’ve got him now. She scooted back on his desk, dangling her legs off the side, and threw her head back, letting him look her over without being watched.

“What exactly are you here for?” Dr. Chilton asked, approaching the mysterious woman. She looked so sensual sitting there on top of his desk; her mere act of existing was turning him on. Why was she here? How did she know him? Was she a fan? Did he even have fans? If he did, he hoped they all looked like this.

Her long, tanned legs dangled off the edge of his desk, crossed delicately. On her feet were a pair of black stilettos whose heels looked positively deadly. Her dress was rather short and exposed the majority of her perfect legs. If it rode up any further, not much would be left to the imagination. The flowy fabric clung to all the right places, accentuating her ample curves. It took all the strength he had within him simply to prevent himself from displaying his arousal as she turned her gaze upon him.

“I’m here because I need you.” She responded, sounding purposely suggestive.

“Need me for what?” Chilton pressed, swallowing hard.

“I think you can figure that out.” She winked.

“…But you didn’t even know what I looked like when you showed up.” He said, frowning. Damn, he’s got me there.

“I…need some information.”

“About?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper.” She admitted, deciding to be direct. He scoffed.

“After the last person came knocking about the Ripper, I elect to pretend he doesn’t exist with new callers.” Maybe he wasn’t as much of a pushover as she’d originally thought. This might require her to fight dirty.

“Fair enough. If you don’t want to talk, well…I came here to pick your brain, but once I got a look at the rest of you…I knew I wanted to play with more than just your mind.” She stood, drawing closer to him. As she grew nearer, Chilton found himself holding his breath. It was like seeing a majestic, mythical creature up close.  

She grabbed him by his suit jacket and backed up, returning to the desk and bringing him with her. She sat down on the edge of the desk once more, legs spread, pulling his full body against her. One hand left his jacket and pulled him in by his tie. She pressed her lips against his.

Oh, my god. Am I dreaming? Chilton wondered to himself. Indeed, he’d had dreams like this before, but this was much too real. He could smell the sweetness of her perfume, like cotton candy. He could feel the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her body pressed against him. He kissed back fervently. If this was a dream, he hoped he’d never wake up.

Oh, my god. She thought as Chilton began to kiss her back. He’s actually a really good kisser. She hadn’t counted on that. She felt him raise his hand, intertwining his fingers with her hair.

Holy shit. This is actually really hot…but I’m on a mission, she reasoned.

She felt herself moan into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth.

Well, I suppose there’s no harm in having a little fun?

She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against him, arousing a small groan from him. He leaned forward into her, pushing her back onto the desk. She threw caution to the wind and let her hands roam over his body, exploring him, when suddenly his intercom buzzed.

She came back to her senses, pulling away from his kisses. She glanced up from his lips to his eyes. They were a beautiful green-tinted hazel, and she found herself wishing she hadn’t noticed as she averted her gaze.  

“As fun as this has been, I have to go. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” She said, sliding off the desk from underneath him, thoroughly embarrassed at her lapse in focus. She made toward the door, wanting to escape as quickly as possible.

“Wait!” Chilton called after her, wincing to himself after he did. Was he making this decision with the head on his shoulders, or the one she had just so thoroughly excited? She froze just before reaching the door, turning to face him. She wore a blank expression, hiding her feelings—not wanting to let her guard down again.

“If you go to dinner with me, I’ll tell you everything I know about the Ripper.” A tiny little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before disappearing so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it.

“Deal.” She responded. “I’ll call you to make arrangements.”

“You don’t know my number.”

“I’ll call here.”

“How will I know it’s you, and I should answer? I don’t even know your name.” He reasoned.

“Uh, Sylvia.” She answered, feeling flustered. “I really do have to go now.” She lied, pushing the door open and power-walking down the hall.

What the hell was that?!?! She screamed internally.

In all her years as an assassin, never once had she felt even an inkling of emotion for a man she’d seduced on the job. Now here was this smug doctor, making her heart pitter patter like she was a virginal schoolgirl. He’d even gotten her flustered enough to blurt out her real name. She hadn’t answered to anything other than Mankiller in years, and that was how she liked it; she’d erased any trace of her real identity long ago.

Perhaps this last assignment would be more difficult than anticipated, she feared as she began to wonder how she should handle her next encounter with Dr. Chilton. Perhaps this time, she’d bitten off more than even she could chew.

Back in his office, Dr. Chilton sighed heavily before answering the intercom’s sixth buzz.

“What is it, Johnathan? This better be good.”

“Sir, Jack Crawford is here to see you, and he brought Will Graham.” With a groan, he pressed the intercom button once more to respond.

“Send them in.”

As Sylvia hurried toward he hospital exit, she happened to notice a familiar face.

Oh, no. What’s he doing here? She tried to hide her face, but there was no denying he’d seen her. Why the hell was Jack Crawford here? At this precise moment?

“Well, well. What brings you here?” He said suspiciously. Jack was one of only a handful of men alive today who knew the Mankiller’s true identity.

“I assure you, Jack, it is absolutely none of your business.” Sylvia smiled pleasantly, though she allowed her irritation to seep into her words as a warning. He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted.

“Dr. Chilton will see you now.” The assistant from earlier announced. Jack closed his mouth in a frown before walking away, electing not to say anything at all. Sylvia smirked as she made her exit, though she knew she hadn’t seen the last of Jack Crawford.

I’ve only been here one day, and yet, what a web I’ve spun for myself. This is shaping up to be my most entertaining assignment yet.

[plounce]

compilation post of whichever bbc america employee who wrote the captain’s blogs being an ally and a hero via treating janto as more than just a sex joke, being genuinely warm and funny, and mentioning ianto super fondly in nearly every single entry (especially s2) because jack is in love with him despite what everyone else would have you believe. but i, a gay, know, and so does bbc america social media staffer circa 2007-2008.

some may call this “fringe canon.” i call it “some of the only specks of canon that respect the show’s canon gay relationship as the loving and affectionate relationship that it is.”

text pulled from ianto’s desktop, which is a fun read despite the defunct photobucket embeds - i only included captain’s blog stuff, but there’s a couple more janto tidbits in there. none as nice as these, though. under a cut because it is Long.

season 1

(one really cool thing the writer did for early season one is have jack note unexplained energy surges in the lower levels of the hub - handy foreshadowing for cyberwoman)

1x03 (ghost machine - alien tech leads to murder mystery):

Other issues: According to Ianto, Splott is pronounced "Sploe". I think Ianto may have been lying.

Upcoming issues: Energy surges in the lower areas of the hub still unexplained; there have been several more in the past week. Ianto volunteered to investigate, but has not discovered an explanation yet.

1x04 (cyberwoman - the episode where ianto’s secrets are revealed and we all have a Bad Time):

Other Staff issues: Ianto Jones temporarily suspended from active duty, to return at my discretion. His love for Lisa clouded his judgment, and he made some serious mistakes - but I have to wonder if I would have done the same thing in his situation. Ianto's personal needs and emotional state have been overlooked; I should not have missed something like this. During his suspension, I will try to spend more time with him. Hopefully we can establish a closer working relationship.

1x05 (small worlds - the one where the “fairies” abduct the little girl and jack has to let them, which makes everyone else very mad at him):

Staff: Ianto Jones' first week back after his suspension four weeks ago. I have tried to put him at ease, and have briefed the team to be as sympathetic as possible. Obviously there is a level of resentment remaining, but they are trying.

Other Staff issues: After what happened with Jasmine, nobody is talking to me (except Ianto). They'll come around. Everyone comes around.

1x06 (countrycide - the one with the cannibals and we all have a Bad Time):

Staff: Brought Ianto Jones along to get him out of the Hub, out of the city, get some relaxing time in the country with the team. May not have been the best decision I made this year.

1x07 (greeks bearing gifts - mindreading and predatory lesbian, the episode):

Other Staff issues: Ianto is still suffering, but putting on a brave face. Will try talking to him over dinner, outside the Hub, see if there's anything more I can do for him.

1x08 (they keep killing suzie - the episode that ends with ianto hitting on jack with a stopwatch):

Other Staff issues: Ianto and I stayed back to go over the case files and reorganize the safe. Internal security cameras were temporarily shut down to run diagnostic tests, so there was no monitoring of the Hub for approximately four hours - but there were no security breaches to report. Everything went very smoothly.

Upcoming issues: Need to requisition a new stopwatch. Old one damaged while moving a desk.

1x09 (random shoes - outsider pov, the episode):

Staff: Things seem to be calming down with everyone. Ianto is coping well; I'm pleased with his progress.

1x11 (combat - owen has manpain and fights weevils. whatever):

Other Staff issues: Ianto surprisingly proficient at the good cop/bad cop routine. Although obviously, he's the good cop. He's too cute to be the bad cop.

1x12 (captain jack harkness - jack and tosh are stuck back in time during the cardiff blitz and owen and ianto fight about what to do about it):

Other Staff issues: Ianto tried to stop Owen opening the Rift, and actually shot him in the shoulder. Everyone except Owen is finding this very amusing.

season 2

2x01 (kiss kiss bang bang - jack returns from his doctor who appearance, deals with his terrible ex spike from buffy, and asks ianto out on a proper date):

Other Staff issues: Gwen is now engaged. I'm happy for her, but I'm concerned about what it might mean - can she stay here, still keeping everything from Rhys? I worry that we're going to lose her. And I worry about Ianto. I think he took it harder than anyone when I ran off. It's going to take me a while to make things up to him. He is a decent, good man, and I'm lucky I met him.

2x02 (sleeper agent - the episode with sleeper agents):

Other security issues: Gwen taken hostage again. I’m beginning to think she’s jinxed. And why am I never taken hostage? I could be a good hostage. I never get any of that Stockholm Syndrome action. And according to Ianto, my bad cop routine needs some work.

Other Staff issues: I’m in trouble with Ianto for duct-taping a CB aerial to the SUV. Apparently the tape made the wing mirror “disconcertingly sticky”. Still, nothing a bit of warm, soapy water can’t fix.

2x03 (a man out of time - tosh’s cryo-boyfriend they unfreeze once every year. also, jack and ianto Have A Talk and then make out):

Other Staff issues: Ianto and I made some progress, talked things through. What happened with Tommy got to us all. I know it got to Gerald and Harriet, too, back then, considering what they went through to try and make up for it – but that’s another story for another day.

2x04 (meat - the episode with the whale and rhys finding out. some of the team gets taken hostage and ianto tazes a bad guy in the head and growls out “pray they survive.” or something and it’s VERY GOOD TELEVISION):

Staff: Ianto turned into a fighting, kicking, stun-gun machine, it was very exciting. I must get put in danger more often.

2x05 (adam - an alien infiltrates their memories and inserts himself into the team, and his plot is foiled by ianto reading his diary and finding inconsistencies because he’s Very Clever):

Other security issues: The only thing out of place was Ianto’s diary, which I found in my office. Naturally, I gave it back to him immediately after reading through it. Several interesting factual errors in there - and I thought he would know how to convert inches to centimetres. You think you know someone...

2x06 (reset - martha visits and owen ‘dies’):

Security: Must speak to Ianto about using names from ‘’Sex and the City’’ on fake IDs. Last week he sent me into an alien smuggling operation as ‘’Mr Big’’, without telling me. Wish I knew how he kept a straight face. I’d give him a stern talking-to, but I think he enjoys that too much.

(right after this is a very solemn paragraph about owen dying lmfao)

2x07 (dead man walking - jack resurrects owen and owen has manpain about it):

Other Staff issues: In big trouble with Ianto for risking everything to go and get the second glove. I should have told him before I went, but he’d probably have cuffed me to the chair to stop me. And I’ve fallen for that one way too many times.

2x08 (a day in the death - owen continues to have manpain):

Other Staff issues: Now that we have all tried, it is clear that only Ianto knows how to operate that damn coffee maker. I suspect it contains alien technology.

2x09 (something borrowed - gwen gets married, but not before playing host to shapeshifting pregnancy alien):

Security: ... Female Nostrovite proved to be extremely resilient to bullets, so I had to get my massive weapon out and take care of business. Ianto is still quietly chuckling about that now, days later. Gwen’s mother taken hostage. Must run in the family.

2x10 (from out of the rain - the terribly written ianto-’centric’ episode about circus film reel ghosts):

Alien activity: ... We only managed to save one of them, but that’s better than nothing. Sometimes in this job, one is enough. I can still see the faces of the people we lost - they weren’t part of this, they were just living their lives, until they were taken. Ianto took it badly, this one really got to him.

Staff: Have convinced Ianto to take me to a normal cinema, to see an actual movie. He’s also curious to know if I still have my old circus outfit. If I can find it, I think a private show is in order.

2x11 (adrift - gwen pursues a mystery about the people the rift takes and then puts back traumatized, even though jack resists. ianto is the one who gives her the info she needs. she also walks in on them naked in the greenhouse. wild):

Staff: Gwen would never have found the facility if Ianto hadn’t helped her. He was wrong to do that. But, of course, he was actually right in the end. There’s no way Gwen would have let it go. I should have trusted her with the information, but I knew what it would do to her. Sometimes, the only way to realise that you shouldn’t look behind that door is to actually go and look. Gwen learned that. Nikki learned that. We all did.

Other Staff issues: Seeing Gwen experience it for the first time took me right back to when I first heard that terrible scream. After Gwen had gone home, I just held on to Ianto for a couple of hours, as tightly as I could.

2x12 (fragments - a bomb explodes and everyone gets a flashback to how they joined torchwood 3 as jack and gwen rescue them from the rubble):

Staff: Everyone came out of the explosion pretty beaten up, but no major damage. We got lucky. And so did John. Because if he’d killed anyone - if he had hurt Ianto - I would have slowly ripped him limb from limb.

Other Staff issues: Although I have to say, Ianto does look good all messed up and dirty.

2x13 (exit wounds - jack’s brother comes back and blows up half of cardiff and kills owen and tosh):

Other Staff issues: The one glimmer of hope in all this? I still have Ianto and Gwen. Whatever the future throws at us, whatever madness the Rift vomits out next, whatever we have to face - Torchwood will be ready.

Capt. Jack Harkness.

Ianto, I know you’re reading this over my shoulder, pretending to fix that damn shelf. So get over here and take me out somewhere.

[arcadeidea]

The Oregon Trail [1971]

(Content Warning: Cannibalism, Genocide.)

In these early days of gaming, it's hard to walk in a straight line without tripping over "firsts." Looking for the first this or the first that is a hook, it's exciting to uncover, you feel like something recognizable of our present-day condition is emerging from the strange, foreign world of the past. It's almost a lie, though. Most firsts are mere trivia that can stand in the way of actually seeing the work. Most firsts are not self-consciously experimental ideas that caught on, but humble clear outgrowths of a prior tendency almost anachronistic to think of as a first, or are purpose-built innovations to serve a specific need (and sometimes you can point at The First and say that it understood what it was doing better than its successors because it knew best why it existed and then was mindlessly copied... but only sometimes.) If you're looking for some kind of great rupture to hang your hat on, the closer you look the less you see.

The Oregon Trail isn't actually first at much, besides. It's predated in most respects by The Sumerian Game [1964], lost to time, in which You are immersed in a narrative role within an existing historical gameworld and asked to manage resources, for purposes of educating children. It's plausible that our 1971 developers were totally ignorant of it, and thus the "first" as far as they're concerned, and instead drawing on, say, Milton-Bradley's The Game Of Life [1960], seeing as the original design was as a board game. The Sumerian Game is probably even more influential and important than The Oregon Trail, as it inspired Hamurabi [1968] [sic], which was then widely distributed in "learn to code BASIC games" books from 1973 on and from there inspired the whole strategy game genre. We, in the 21st century, recognize The Oregon Trail more though, because of the American Gen X ubiquity of The Oregon Trail [1985], which is as Doom [2016] is to Doom [1993], bringing us 2-for-2 on Id references for the geeks and gamers in the crowd.

It tops Wikipedia's list of the longest-running game franchises, and it's gonna stay there. Hamurabi isn't recognized as The Sumerian Game 2, but a bootleg with its own identity, and similarly you taking the reins of a hypothetical Spacewar 2 or a do-over with spiffy graphics would be a fangame or port or its own thing, not a sequel or remake. They wouldn't carry the imprint of legitimacy that comes from the all-important ownership of the intellectual property. It's the way Oregon Trail's original designer, Don Rawitsch, could take his source code offline in 1971, and then port it from paper as the 1975 version I played with only minor tweaks (one of which we'll address later.) It's the way one of its programmers, Bill Heinemann, can deny even his own son from taking stewardship of the code. It's in the way the Minnesota Educational Computing Consortium can make the 1985 Oregon Trail with none of the original three creators, become a private entity with the money the property made them, then sell their legitimizing rights to The Learning Company, who can sell it to Mattel, who can sell it to Ubisoft, who can then bestow the power to make legitimate Oregon Trail successors to third parties. It's copyright, or even more broadly the conceptual scaffolding of ownership, that franchises can not live without, and it's not ridiculous at all.

The franchise all started with only the noblest of intentions, though, characteristic of that 20th Century digital optimism that necessarily colors early video games. They were going to use computers to educate children. A game is a spicy way to approach this, but not unprecedented; one could say most games are already educational, even if in a given instance all you learn is about the game. So what's its pedagogical approach to history, and how does it fare?

Well, it's unusually gamey for an "edutainment" title. There's no room for those "read some facts" sections divorced from the gameplay we're familiar with from later titles like the Carmen Sandiego series. Instead, like reportedly The Sumerian Game before it, it relies heavily on now-lost paratext (which ultimately functions much the same as the Carmen Sandiego model) for the delivery of historical fact: the 1971 Western Expansion unit curriculum The Oregon Trail game was originally only a small part of. It could have reasonably been implemented within the tight space constraints of a 1970s BASIC mainframe program as, say, a fact- and text-heavy quiz, but instead we got something very gameplay-heavy that was shortly thereafter shorn of that original contextualizing information. As-is, you can hardly poke at the game's factual inaccuracies, because what little is there is accurate. (For instance, the 1985 edition would make the prevalence of dysentery infamous, but on the real Trail, the #1 killer was cholera.) The game we have is a supplement... but if not hard facts, then what does it teach you? Reading, typing?

The game is turn-based, and at the top of every turn it displays your five resources: Food, Ammunition, Clothing, Cash, and Miscelaneous [sic] Supplies, which are things like axles and medicine. Your cash reserves (which always start at the same place) can be used at the nondescript forts you have the chance to stop at on some turns. Food, clothing, and supplies correspond not to any real values like pounds of food but one-to-one with the cash you spent on them. You just have "30 Clothes," which somehow depletes rapidly. It might be meant as the abstract monetary value, but since there's no selling, it's unclear. Run out of clothes or supplies, and you could die at any moment. Run out of food, and you die instantly. Like in The Sumerian Game, you're managing resources through the proxy of numerical abstraction, but unlike it, this is not a game meant to educate you on economics, this is the First Survival Game. In all this, we see the inverse of the priority motivation of Spacewar: managing finite, dwindling resource scarcity instead of pushing hard on the limits of the infinite.

Ammunition, on the other hand, is not directly vital but ridiculously cheap. Pun intended, it's the best bang for your buck. You're thus incentivized to play into the rugged outdoorsy individualist role (unlike later games, there's no indication that you are anything but alone) by hunting for your food, without the fiddly business of coding something like food that goes bad if you just let it sit. When you go to shoot something, be it animals on the hunt or hunting yourself, or hostile "riders," you are dropped from the methodical turn-based world into a real-time action-reflex one, which delivers a jolt of energy to the whole experience. In a stroke of ingenuity within the text-only limitations, you are tasked with typing the word "BANG" quickly and accurately. In the 1978 version, it also changes the word up on you (like it could be "POW") which makes the mechanic even more reminiscent of The Typing Of The Dead [1999]. The metaphor stands clear: your typing skill, quick and accurate, enacts corresponding quick and accurate violence on the computer. The computer will have its revenge, though.

No matter how skilled you are at hunting for your food and managing your resources, you are at the complete mercy of the gameworld. The random events at the end of every turn are perhaps the real star of the show here — definitely an evolution of Spacewar's star, anyway. The wrong random events can bring you from fine to dead in just one turn. It's not fair!

That's the point. The Oregon Trail is not about getting to Oregon. Sure, that's the goal that keeps you going both in and out of character, but really The Oregon Trail is about the losing. The death message is rendered with great ceremony, three separate command prompts on your funeral, just for flavor. Even when you make it to the promised land, you're haunted by the ghosts of your own failure, and the entire time you're on the journey is low-level tension and dread at the imagined fatality lurking under every rock. That's the pedagogical utility of the game that a book or a lecture just doesn't give you: by placing you in the middle of a world model and an unimportant role, it communicates an impression, a feeling of what it was like to live as an ordinary person in the time and place depicted, and that impression is one of a dangerous world, arbitrary enough that you can do everything right and still eat curb. There's a straight line from here to Cart Life [2011]. Why, Oregon Trail is the First Empathy Game! The terminology of the "Empathy Game," if you're unfamiliar or have forgotten, was a bit of a fad genre in mid-2010s among a handful of thinkpiece writers and social scientists, and notably not many actual game designers. It was a genre that post-hoc lumped together titles like the aforementioned Cart Life, Depression Quest [2013], That Dragon, Cancer [2016], and even Spec Ops: The Line [2012]! With the exception of the latter, the sales pitch of the genre was basically that in snubbing traditional concepts like "fun" and "violence" in favor of depicting a minimal-gameplay sad world drawn from the author's deeply personal (and often enough, marginalized) experience, these games would make you a better person; they were good for you, like eating your vegetables. Game designer Anna Anthropy was particularly enraged by cis allies patting themselves on the back in this way for playing her short title Dys4ia [2012], and in response to all this she exhibited The Road To Empathy [2015], which was a pair of her size 13 high heel boots with a pedometer attached, so that people could literally walk a mile in her shoes and try to get the high score. (A scathing Cinderella story.)

I myself am a cis white male living in Oregon's Willamette Valley, cause to worry that when I telnetted in to play the game it would instantly award me victory. I grew up here. I was born too late for Apple IIs preloaded with Oregon Trail in the classrom, but one year in elementary school the teacher put together her own longform, paper-based, team-play Oregon Trail game. My team died trapped by snow in the mountains, and then once I was checked-out and scorched about the loss, the whole class got to learn about the Donner Party, a group of settlers who went into the mountains, got snowed in, and ate each other. That's a harrowing, tragic situation about people at the furthest extremities of humanity, and we didn't get too deep into it, but it wasn't sanitized. Years later, don't know how many, I wondered: why? Not why did it happen, but why was I taught about that as history? Not even that it was gruesome, but it didn't square with my understanding of capital-h History at that time, that it was just such a small story that had immediate effect on nobody outside of the Donner Party themselves. It was just some fucked-up shit that happened once. Trivia. What was I meant to learn? Not to go through the mountains in a covered wagon during winter? No, no, it had to be one of those abstract moral Life Lessons... Was it solemn respect for the dead? The terror of nature, and the weakness of man and our society in the face of it? I've seen it used to make exactly the opposite point, that adversity builds morality and character, which is incredibly stupid but that doesn't mean that wasn't meant as the takeaway.

Writing this now, I think I have figured out that I was being taught about my heritage. It's odd to think of it that way, but it's not out of the ordinary in many cultures to pass down illustrative tales of suffering to the young so they and their example are not forgotten, though. I believe I was meant to associate myself in some continuity with The Donner Party, their inheritors as an Oregonian, as an American, as — to put it sharply — a white person, and truly, I am. The subtext is that the past of hardscrabble living and suffering we underwent to get here (in this case, a literal location, Oregon,) legitimizes our comfortable place now. Likewise, the intention of The Oregon Trail is to get us to identify and empathize with the settler. Both are virtual memory, simulated aggrievement.

Our second game has taken as its subject and theme perhaps one of the few darker and more harrowing subject matters than war: colonialism. Identifying colonialism in games is in vogue right now, but it's currently most commonly leveled as a criticism at let's-call-them-post-Minecraft games in which you are actively engaged in both extracting resources from and changing the environment to suit you, even where there is no colonization on the narrative end. The Oregon Trail is just the opposite, using its resource management purely to emphasize that we are at the whims of our environment, while its narrative framing is colonization. It flinches from the larger truth of what it is depicting in favor of an attempt at systematized monetary verisimilitude that absorbs us.

The Oregon Trail [c. 1847-1869] can be considered a mirror for its rough contemporary, The Trail Of Tears [c. 1830-1850]. Nobody wanted to be on The Trail Of Tears. People were being forcibly relocated from what prosperity they had managed to carve out for themselves into conditions of deliberate impovershment. The mass suffering and death they experienced on the way was, when not maliciously engineered, fully intended, and it did nothing to legitimize their claims to the land they now had. Conversely, the settlers moving far west were doing so entirely voluntarily.(The game starts you in St. Louis, 1847, coincidentally the exact time and place a legally-enforced Mormon exodus began, but this game isn't The Utah Trail.) There's a phrase for that hopeful dream that fundamentally motivated every last Oregonian settler to embark on their painful journey: Manifest Destiny. The land out west is already metaphysically yours, you just have to go out and take it in fact. In period records, what is done to the indigenous people across the continent is described in jarringly passive voice (such as "dying off",) as what are clearly active campaigns of hostility are waged with full intent to exterminate. The suffocating, violent racism of the 1800s United States can not be understated, and yet it is full-on swept under the rug, not just here, but almost everywhere you turn that's not the niche of a serious history for adults. This was an era when even some white slavery abolitionists were only that way because the thought of sharing a nation with any black people, even slaves, so offended their sensibilities.

The Oregon Trail game is, point blank and very straightforwardly, white nationalist propaganda. Now, it's not hate speech! It doesn't come out of the damp basement printing press of a Neo-Nazi, but the cleanliness of the omissions and assumptions and unwarranted romanticism of a standard grade school American History curriculum, and from the noblest of intentions. It's not Custer's Revenge [1982] or The Birth Of A Nation [1915]. In fact, the most major & germane difference (possibly) between the 1971 teletype version and the 1975 one I played is a modulation towards greater racial sensitivity: The random event of hostile "Indians" is scrubbed to "riders." This leaves only friendly Native Americans, which is actually, so I read, broadly historically accurate for what a trail-goer would encounter. The Cayuse War, for example, did start with an attack on a white civilian, but most of the engagement was between military forces. Not to form a bad habit of relying too heavily on author quotes, but here's what programmer Bill Heinemann had to say about it:

I heard from Paul [Dillenberger, fellow Oregon Trail coder] that we needed to eliminate any negative references to Native Americans. Since my generation had grown up on TV cowboy shows, my first reaction was that we were denying a piece of our own history.

Get a load of this honky. He instinctively thought the heritage he needed to pass on to Minnesota schoolchildren was the pulpy good-guy-bad-guy myth of the unrevised Western, masquerading as fact. The Oregon Trail is, in the end, just as much the flippant pop culture fantasia as Spacewar, despite the pretense of fact and education. Thankfully, Mr. Heinemann thoughtfully backtracked on that count, thinking of potential Native American children playing the game. In 2017, lead designer Don Rawitsch even said that he'd like to see a version of The Oregon Trail from the Native American perspective. In 2019, we got exactly that.

When Rivers Were Trails [2019] is the product of almost 50 more years in development in ludic story delivery and edutainment. It's marketed as the Native American response to The Oregon Trail, though it too takes place about 50 years later, in the 1890s. This places it after the end of most direct warfare, save with the Apaches, although Geronimo had already surrendered and you do not visit the American Southwest. Instead, when you are given the choice to resist, it takes the form not of, say, mass armed rebellion, but in community spiritualism and helping negotiate the crooked legal system.

In the story, you wander aimlessly west, away from the traditional lands in Minnesota you can now never return to. Along the way, you meet many Native Americans, who aren't typically so much characters as they are the medium by which facts about the land and history are summarized, ala the Carmen Sandiego model of edutainment referred to earlier. When Rivers Were Trails hews closer to something like a visual novel with minigames, and is nowhere near as interested in systematizing misery as The Oregon Trail. The worst things that directly happen to the player are rare harassment by the Indian Patrol, and there are resources as a nod to The Oregon Trail, here Willpower, Food, and Medicine, and, fittingly enough considering the direct equation of resource-to-cash in the 1970s game, they're used mostly as forms of currency for trading. Other than that, they don't "matter," in that they're super easy to come by living off the land and running out of food or medicine won't kill you. Only running out of spiritual Willpower will, which suggests to me that you're on some metaphoric level a ghost animated by your journey, bearing witness to vignettes of not so much the suffering itself, but the almost-post-apocalyptic aftershocks of great misfortunes and displacements and how various people are holding on or moving on. Don't mistake it for an Empathy Game — it's strictly educational.

[solarwindandcosmicash]

priority: anhur (part ii)

prev | start | next

Now that the party has gotten the password and eliminated Delta, supposedly one of the leaders of the rebellion, the party moves on to the rebel headquarters. There they encounter Zeta, Delta’s half-sister, and convince her to help them eliminate the rebel leaders. Zeta eliminates Quincy handily with the party’s help, and after and a tough fight with Kany and Nyeck, the party finds themselves ultimately successful, though Zeta had died in the conflict. They return to the Apricity soon after.

summary

With Delta eliminated and the password in hand, and once Phos has hidden Delta’s body, the party moves on to the rebellion’s headquarters. Aster had plotted a route for them and informs them that there is a front and back to the headquarters building, though he doesn’t know which would be better. The party decides to enter through the front after lively debate; in trying to do so, Beetle tries to pass tea as drugs in order to get inside, which fails, and after Vekar gives the password Zeta, the five of them enter the headquarters

Inside the headquarters, the party finds themselves in a wide hallway. At the end of the hallway is the back entrance to the headquarters, with two guards standing there; inside is deserted, oddly enough, with six doors spaced along the walls, three on each side, and a staircase leading down. The party sets to work to open the doors, all of which are locked; inside some of these rooms, Kate and Phos find credit chits valued at 1000, and Vekar finds some cryo rounds in a safe. Vasir and Beetle hack a disabled FENRIS mech but promptly forget to tell it to heel.

When they enter the last room, the party encounters Zeta T’Pavis, Delta’s half-sister. Phos, with Beetle’s help, convinces Zeta that one of the rebellion’s leaders, Quincy Lorraine, was responsible for the death of her sister and, seeking vengeance, Zeta ropes the party into helping her eliminate him. She leads them down the stairs, where she explains that while Nyeck had been cleaning up the Reaper creatures on Anhur, they had actually been keeping them here in cages, for use whenever they saw fit. The party learns that there are husks, marauders, and cannibals around, but Zeta bypasses them all and heads straight for a room down a hallway, instructing the party to intervene at the signal.

The signal ends up being a gunshot, and when the party bursts into the room, they find Zeta grappling Quincy on the ground. Upon request, Phos walks over and stabs Quincy with her cleaver, causing enough damage that he would eventually die, but slowly. Kate, in a moment of compassion, kills him quickly, much to Zeta’s displeasure, and from there, the party convinces Zeta to help them eliminate the rest of the rebellion’s leaders. Zeta warns them that this will be difficult, given that Kany and Nyeck are almost always together, but eventually comes up with an idea.

The plan is thus: Zeta will distract either Kany or Nyeck, separating them from each other and sending them towards a trap the party will have laid out. From there, the party can eliminate that person before proceeding to Zeta’s location to help her. Zeta lets the party choose who they want to target first after providing some information on who Kany and Nyeck are; the party decides to eliminate Kany first, and after a few fail-safes are put into place, Zeta moves off and the party heads over to the husks’ cage, with Beetle placing a grenade on the door in order to blow it open on Zeta’s signal and the rest of the party moving to hide in the observation deck nearby.

The signal comes through Vasir’s omni-tool, and Beetle triggers the grenade by shooting it. A few moments later, Kany makes her appearance by biotically charging in and then dropping a nova at the escaping husks, killing all of them instantly; however, she notices the party hiding and Kate takes the opportunity to biotically charge Kany, knocking her briefly off-balance before the battle begins. Kany is very powerful and wreaks a lot of havoc before the party successfully takes her down, and soon after, the party rushes to where they think Zeta is, knowing that she is alone with Nyeck.

The party arrives in time to see Nyeck kill Zeta, and then Beetle throws a grenade and Kate sets it off by shooting it; the party avoids damage by closing the door to the room where the grenade explodes. Moments later, however, it becomes apparent that Nyeck is no easy target, either, almost killing Vekar before Vekar freezes them and Beetle takes a killshot with the sniper rifle she’d foisted from a human earlier that day. Once Nyeck has died, and once Beetle has named her new sniper rifle the Cold Shoulder, the party collects several documents under Aster’s direction before booking it back to the LZ, calling for pickup and being brought back to the Apricity soon after.

notable lines + interactions

DM: So last time... last time on this campaign, I forget the name, sunlight and stardust, y’all broke into a tea shoppe and killed a dude. Actually a lady. So. GG.

Phos, OOC: Ideally, we find an incinerator or something so we can burn the body and everything else. DM: Maybe roll a twenty on perception next time.

Beetle, OOC: Beetles takes a free action to dab. DM: You - you don’t need a free action to do that, you’re not in combat. Beetle, OOC: It’s still a free action. DM: Uh, okay, you, uh, you dab. It - it looks like a dab. [pause] Yay.

Vasir, OOC: Your dab did not destroy my internet, I’m offended you think it’s that bad. Beetle, OOC: Okay, that’s fair, but it’s still pretty powerful. Vasir, OOC: You didn’t roll for it. It was a free action, you said so. Beetle, OOC: Goddammit, you’re right. I’ll roll for it next time.

DM: As you get closer, Aster says - what does he say. [pause] This is not the right word document. [pause] This is also not the right word document. Beetle, OOC: I believe in you.

DM: Phos intimidated some people so now you don’t have to fight. Congratulations.

DM: [Beetle and Kate] were playing rock-paper-scissors to see who was the scary one. But you both lost, like, you both played scissors too many times. Beetle, OOC: Yeah, we kept tying, and then we gave up. It was really sad. DM: It was really sad.

DM: We are not making this The Adventure Zone!

DM: Okay, it’s not from The Adventure Zone, it’s actually from outofcontextdnd. I just forgot in the heat in the moment.

Beetle, OOC: We have two lines of attack: one in the back posing, and one in the front attacking while everyone is staring at the ones who are posing. Party: [laughter] DM: Wouldn’t that be the other way around? Like - like posing in the front, attack from the back? Beetle, OOC: Look, this is tactics, okay.

DM: Need I remind you of the first rule of D&D? I’ve had to every session so far.

Vasir: Let’s see if the front door and the password work before we use the violence, how about? Phos: Hmm. Beetle: This sounds fake, but... okay. Vasir: We can’t start attacking the people we’re supposedly with. Beetle: Supposedly we can’t start attacking people. Phos: Supposedly we didn’t just kill one of their leaders and steal tea from her shoppe, but sure. Vasir: Is the concept of sneaking that hard for you all?

Phos, OOC: Right before Phos opens the door, she uses fortification - DM: Shh shh shh. Shh. Shhh. Shhhhh. Phos, OOC and sheepish: Sorry.

Phos, OOC: [Phos]’s not dealing with this tall-ass turian. Vekar: Fine. Next time I’ll let you get shot. DM, whispering: Oh snap.

DM: So how was everyone’s day today? Vasir, OOC: I actually got up as a reasonable time. Went out and did stuff. DM: Hell yeah. Productivity. Phos, OOC: I played games. Thanks to [Vekar’s player], the savior. DM: Hell yeah. All hail.

DM: So Beetle... Beetle. Oh, Beetle. There’s no corners for you to get lost in. But there is a wall, and you walk towards this wall. And you realize, suddenly, that all you can see is this wall, and that you are hopelessly lost. And everywhere you look, all you can see is wall. And you are just lost in this single wall. Beetle: This room only has one wall and I can’t leave! DM: Exactly. You are a two-dimensional thing now. There’s no escape.

Beetle: Holy shit, Phos! You did it! You rescued me again! Again!

Phos, OOC: I’m wearing armor! DM: You didn’t get any damage, you just looked stupid. Phos, OOC: Oh, god. Vekar, OOC: Psychological damage.

Beetle, OOC: It took me two years but I did it! DM: So you unlock that door. GG. Plus one experience. There’re four other doors remaining.

Beetle: The wall got you, too? Vekar, having just walked into a wall: Sadly, it did. It’s a trickster wall, it is.

DM: You’re really fascinated with the desk, I guess. It’s a really nice desk. Beetle: I like this. I’m into it.

Beetle: Can we take this desk apart and take it with us? [quietly] I really like it.

Beetle: You know, Vasir, you really loosened the lid on this good, good - mech. DM: Nice save. I knew what you wanted to say there. Beetle, OOC: Yeah, Beetle didn’t want to force gender on it.

DM: So Beetle and Vasir, you manage to open your doors, but there’s nothing in the rooms they open to. They’re trash and trashed. Beetle, OOC: [posts this in discord]

Beetle, OOC, unnecessarily: It’s trash. DM, exasperated: Thanks, McElroys. Where would we be without you?

DM: And roll perception for me. Vekar, OOC and desperate: No...

Beetle: We’re invested in helping you avenge Delta. Phos: Yes, she was very kind to us. Zeta: Yes, yes, she’s - she was always like that. DM: You guys are terrible people, you know that? Party: [laughter] Vekar, OOC: We try our best. Phos, OOC: The power of a nat twenty, baby!

Zeta: [kills two guards very quickly] Beetle: Good execution! DM: She does not respond to that. Beetle, OOC: But it was a good execution! DM: ... Ahaha, hahaha, haha, ha, anyway.

Phos, OOC: [leaves to make themselves hot chocolate] Beetle, OOC: I’m just imagining Phos going back to the shop to make herself a nice cup of coke-co. DM: Coke-co? Beetle, OOC: Yeah. DM: Goddammit.

DM: Yeah, Kate’s just watching you guys hack this, like - Vasir, OOC: She’s thinking, “Ha ha, nerds.” DM: And she’s like, “Godspeed.”

Phos: Are we playing ‘hide and husks’?

DM: I don’t want to make you roll stealth checks, but at this rate...

Someone’s mic: [picks up the sound of a car horn] DM: Beeeeep.

DM: Yeah, it’s a miracle [Beetle] hit at all. And by miracle, I mean a nineteen.

Phos: Which door do we think there would be the boss of this place? Vekar: Probably the biggest door. DM: This isn’t a Zelda title.

Beetle, OOC: ‘Oral’ could mean her mouth. DM: I said ‘aural’, A, U! Fuck off!

Beetle, OOC: Can I roll to have Beetle stand real casual? DM: You don’t have to roll that, she can just do it, she - Beetle, OOC: Like, I’m not with these nerds, like, chillin’. DM: Okay, yeah, you can - you can just stand there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking really cool. Beetle, OOC: Nice. I’m into that.

DM: And then you just hear some tussling - tussling? Tussling? Wrassling? Wrestling? Just fighting noises, basically. Vekar, OOC: Fisticuffs. DM: Yeah, you hear fisticuff noises, that’s it.

Vasir, OOC: Roll to find a chair, [DM]! Beetle, OOC: Rolls a crit fail.

DM: Phous? Phos, OOC: Phohs. Beetle, OOC: Phoosaphone. DM: Phoosaphone. [quietly] Goddammit.

Phos, OOC: How bad does Nyeck look? DM: He’s fine. [incredulous silence] Phos, OOC: He’s not even bleeding? DM: Nope. Vekar, OOC: Shields, man. Vasir, OOC: That armor class. Phos, OOC: Shit.

DM: [Nyeck] just roll out of the way. They’re really not feeling this. Beetle, OOC: They’re just McCree rolling out of way. DM: They are! They are indeed. They’re also reloading and - just kidding, they’re not doing that.

DM: You’re lucky [Nyeck] didn’t hit you twice. This would’ve killed you. Vekar, OOC: Thanks, that’s so kind of them.

DM: Top of the order. Vekar, you’re up. Vekar, OOC: Alright. Well, shit.

DM: And that’s the end of your turn. Let’s see if you wombo-combo.

DM: You just did 26 damage. Party: Party: [collectively loses their shit] DM: This person is dead. This person is very, very dead.

DM: This sniper rifle is your new best friend. What do you name it? Beetle, OOC: Uh. Phos, OOC: Headshot. Vekar, OOC: The Cold Shoulder. Everyone: [loses their shit]

technical notes

The party finds a place to hide Delta’s body. Investigation roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Phos → 14 + 3 → 17 Vekar → 16 - 4 → 12 Kate → 8 + 1 → 9 Vasir → 8 - 1 → 7 Beetle → 1 + 3 → 4

Phos finds a place to hide the body (a dumpster).

The party intimidates others into leaving them alone. Intimidation roll. 1d20 + knowledge modifier.

Phos → 15 + 0 → 15 Vekar → 6 + 3 → 9 Kate → 4 + 0 → 4 Beetle → 4 + 0 → 4

Phos intimidates a group of batarians into leaving the enemy alone. Kate and Beetle play rock-paper-scissors, but end up tying so many times that they give up and let Phos be the scary one.

Beetle tries to sell the rebel guards tea, passing it off as a drug. Persuasion roll. 1d20 + knowledge modifier + proficiency bonuses → 14 + 0 + 1 + 1 → 16

The guards contest. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Guard 1 → 20 Guard 2 → 17

The guards successfully contest.

Beetle does not convince the guards that she is a business partner, as the rebellion is not involved with drugs in any way.

The party looks around the headquarters’ main floor. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Vasir → 17 - 1 → 16 Vekar → 16 - 4 → 12 Phos → 5 + 3 → 8 Kate → 5 + 1 → 6 Beetle → 1 + 3 → 4

Beetle gets lost in front of a wall. Vasir notes all possible exits and doors.

Vasir and Beetle go to unlock two of the doors. Decryption roll. 1d20 + technical modifier + proficiency bonus.

Vasir → 18 + 4 → 22 Beetle → 14 + 4 → 18

Vasir opens the door easily. It takes Beetle a bit longer to accomplish the same feat.

Kate, Phos, Vekar, and Vasir check out the room. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Vekar → 18 - 4 → 14 Vasir → 15 - 1 → 14 Kate → 12 + 1 → 13 Phos → 1 + 3 → 4

Phos walks into the doorframe, stubs her foot on the desk, and then stumbles into shelves. Everyone else sees the FENRIS mech in the room and notes the locked drawers of the desk.

Kate breaks the lock on one of the drawers of the desk. Strength roll. 1d20 + strength modifier → 14 + 2 → 16 Kate breaks the lock on the drawer, finding a credit chit valued at 1000.

Vasir hacks into the FENRIS mech. AI hacking roll. 1d20 + technical modifier + proficiency bonus → 3 + 4 + 1 → 8 Vasir finds the firewalls on the mech too frustrating to hack and gives up.

Vekar breaks the lock on one of the drawers of the desk. Strength roll. 1d20 + strength modifier → 11 + 1  → 12 Vekar opens the drawer, but it’s empty.

Vekar breaks the lock on the last drawer of the desk. Strength roll. 1d20 + strength modifier → 11 + 1 → 12 Vekar opens the drawer and finds a slip of paper with a combination of numbers on it. He pockets it.

Beetle unlocks another door. Decryption roll. 1d20 + technical modifier → 18 + 4 → 22 Beetle opens the door easily.

Kate, Phos, Vekar, and Beetle check out the room. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Phos → 19 + 3 → 22 Kate → 11 + 1 → 12 Beetle → 2 + 3 → 5 Vekar → 1 - 4 → -3

Vekar walks into a wall again. Beetle is fascinated with the desk. Phos notices a safe underneath said desk.

Vekar opens the safe. Vekar opens the safe using the combination he had found in the previous room.

The DM determines what’s in the safe. 1d6 → 1 Inside the safe are cryo rounds and a credit chit valued at 1000. Vekar takes the rounds; Phos takes the chit.

Beetle hacks the FENRIS mech. AI hacking roll. 1d20 + technical modifier → 14 + 4 → 18 Coasting on Vasir’s previous attempt, Beetle successfully hacks the FENRIS mech.

Beetle, Vekar, and Vasir hack into another two doors. Decryption roll. 1d20 + technical modifier + proficiency bonus.

Vasir → 17 + 4 + 1 → 23 Beetle → 13 + 4 → 17 Vekar → 6 + 1 + 0 → 7

Vasir and Beetle manage to open their doors, but there’s nothing in the room beyond.

Vasir opens the remaining door. Decryption roll. 1d20 + technical modifier + proficiency bonus → 12 + 4 + 1 → 17 Vasir opens the door to the last room.

The party tries to mentally place the asari in the last room of the headquarters. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Phos → 19 + 3 → 22 Beetle → 11 + 3 → 14 Vekar → 17 - 4 → 13 Vasir → 13 - 1 → 12

Phos realizes the asari looks strikingly like Delta.

Phos opens the message Kate sent over omni-tool. Technical roll. 1d20 + tech modifier → 7 - 2  → 5 Phos is unable to read the message Kate sent, which read simply: “Wasn’t Zeta supposed to be a hostage?”

Phos convinces Zeta that Delta was killed by Quincy Lorraine. Beetle corroborates her story by showing Zeta the tea she had stolen from Delta’s shoppe. Persuasion roll with advantage. 1d20 + knowledge modifier → 11 + 0 → 11, 20 + 0 → 20

Zeta contests. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier → 12 + 2 → 14 Zeta fails to contest.

Phos successfully convinces Zeta that Delta as killed by the rebel leaders.

The party listens to the sounds in the basement. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Beetle → 18 + 3 → 21 Phos → 15 + 3 → 18 Vasir → 10 - 1 → 9 Kate → 6 + 1 → 7 Vekar → 7 - 4 → 3

Beetle and Phos hear the noises down the hallway and immediately ID them as husk noises.

Zeta grapples Quincy. Strength roll. 1d20 + strength modifier → 15 + 1 → 16

Quincy contests. Strength roll. 1d20 + strength modifier → 11 + 3 → 14 Quincy fails to contest.

Zeta wrestles Quincy to the ground.

Phos stabs Quincy. Damage roll. 2d8 + damage bonus → (5 + 3) + (4 + 3) → 8 + 7 → 15 Phos’s krogan cleaver cuts deeply into Quincy’s neck. He’s not dead yet.

Kate kills Quincy. Kate mercy-kills Quincy with her omni-blade.

Phos convinces Zeta that Nyeck Slatojor and Kany Canard were also implicit in Delta’s death. Persuasion roll. 1d20 + knowledge modifier → 18 + 0 → 18 Phos successfully convinces Zeta to both tell them about Nyeck and Kany as well as help kill them.

Zeta assassinates the two guards. Stealth roll. 1d20 + dexterity modifer → 18 + 2 → 20 Zeta stabs both of the guards in quick succession, killing them instantly.

The party looks for a place to hide. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Phos → 18 + 4 → 22 Kate → 18 + 1 → 19 Vasir → 19 - 1 → 18 Beetle → 15 + 3 → 18 Vekar → 9 - 4 → 5

The party notices a little observatory room where they could hide. The door is locked.

Beetle, Vasir, and Vekar work together to unlock the door. Decryption roll. 1d20 + technical modifier + proficiency bonus.

Vasir → 15 + 4 → 19 Vekar → 17 + 1 → 18 Beetle → 13 + 4 → 17

Between the three of them, Vasir, Vekar, and Beetle make quick work of the door.

Kate braces at the door. Kate draws her pistol and braces.

Beetle shoots the grenade. Attack roll. 1d20 → 16. Beetle manages to shoot the grenade, exploding the door of the husk cage and allowing the husks to escape.

Kany charges the husks. Attack roll. 1d20 → 18 This is sufficient to do damage.

Damage roll. 1d8 → 6 Kany hits all husks on impact.

ADDITIONAL ACTION: Kany throws a Nova down. Attack roll. 1d20 → 13 This is sufficient to do damage.

Damage roll. 2d4 → 3 + 4 → 7 Kany kills all husks.

Kany looks around the room. Perception check. 1d20 + perception modifier → 16 + 1 → 17 Kany notices the group hiding in the observatory.

Kate charges Kany. Attack roll. 1d20 → 7 This is not sufficient to do damage. Kany is thrown off-balance.

Everyone rolls initiative. 1d20.

Vasir → 20 Kany → 19 Vekar → 16 Kate → 12 Phos → 9 Beetle → 7

Vasir uses Energy Drain on Kany. Attack roll. 1d20 → 17 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. (17 - Kany’s armor class) x 3 → 2 x 3 → 6 Vasir steals 6 of Kany’s barrier.

Kany attacks Kate. Attack roll. 1d20 → 17 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 2d4 → 4 + 1 → 5 Kate’s barrier takes 5 points of damage.

Free action. Kany moves into the husk cage.

Vekar takes cover by the cage’s door and shoots. Free action. Vekar moves to the cage’s door and takes cover.

Attack roll. 1d20 → 17 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 3d4 → 1 + 2 + 3  → 5 Vekar deals 5 damage to Kany.

Kate shoots Kany with her sniper rifle. Attack roll. 1d20 → 15 This is sufficient for a body shot.

Damage roll. 2d6 → 6 + 3  → 9 Kate shoots Kany for 9 points of damage.

Phos uses Fortification. Free action. Phos moves to block the doorway of the cage.

Phos uses Fortification. Phos adds +2 to her AC, bringing her AC up to 18.

Beetle takes a shot at Kany with her sniper rifle through Phos’s legs. Attack roll. 1d20 → 19 This is sufficient, but because of her positioning, she does not get a headshot.

Damage roll. 2d6 → 4 + 3  → 7 Beetle shoots Kany for 7 points of damage.

Vasir delays their turn.

Kany charges Phos. Attack roll. 1d20 → 19 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 1d8 → 7 Phos takes 7 points of damage.

ADDITIONAL ACTION: Kany drops a Nova. Attack roll. 1d20 → 20 Crit.

Damage roll. (2d4) x 2 → (2 + 2) x 2 → 8 Kany hits Phos, Beetle, and Vekar for 8 points of damage. Additionally, she sends them flying. Phos, Beetle, and Vekar are now prone.

Vekar stands up. Vekar stands up and moves away from Kany.

Kate takes a shot at Kany with her sniper rifle. Attack roll. 1d20 → 13 This is not sufficient to hit.

Kate takes a shot at Kany, who deflects it with her biotics.

Vasir jumps back into the order and uses Incinerate. Attack roll. 1d20 → 3 This is not sufficient to hit.

Vasir messes up the Incinerate program and it doesn’t manage to leave their omni-tool.

Phos stands up. Phos stands up and moves in front of Beetle.

Beetle uses her Marksman ability. Attack roll. 1d20 → 16

Damage roll. 4d4 → 2 + 2 + 4 + 2 → 10 Beetle shoots Kany for 10 points of damage, killing her.

Beetle investigates Kany’s body. Investigation roll. 1d20 + perception modifier → 14 + 3 → 17 Beetle doesn’t find anything on Kany’s body.

Phos listens to her surroundings. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier → 14 + 3 → 17 Phos hears nothing out of ordinary, excepting the Reaper sounds.

The party chooses between going left, right, or forward. The party goes left.

The DM chooses which direction was correct. Random number between 1 and 3 → 1 Left is the correct direction.

The party listens in at Nyeck’s door. Perception roll. 1d20 + modifier.

Beetle → 20 + 3 → 23 Phos → 15 + 3 → 18 Vekar → 17 - 4 → 13 Vasir → 12 - 1 → 11 Kate → 6 + 1 → 7

The party hears talking, but can’t make out the words. Beetle knows that the conversation is civil.

Nyeck and Zeta notice the party. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Nyeck → 15 + 2 → 17 Zeta → 8 + 1 → 9

Nyeck notices the party, Zeta doesn’t.

Nyeck melees Zeta. Nyeck stabs Zeta in the neck, causing fatal damage.

ADDITIONAL ACTION: Nyeck shoots Phos with a shotgun. Attack roll. 1d20 → 17 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 2d8 → 4 + 4 → 8 Phos takes 8 damage.

Everyone rolls initiative. 1d20.

Vekar → 20 Beetle → 15 Vasir  → 11 Kate → 12 Phos → 9 Nyeck → 3

Vekar uses First Aid on Phos with his Medicine talent and medi-gel. Effectiveness roll. 1d20 → 3.

Roll healing. (2d4) x 2 → (1 + 4) x 2 → 5 x 2 → 10 Phos regains 10 points of damage.

Beetle throws a sticky grenade at Nyeck. Attack roll. 1d20 + dexterity modifier + proficiency bonus → 11 + 3 + 1 → 15 Beetle lands her grenade on the desk behind Nyeck.

Nyeck notices the grenade. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier → 2 + 2 → 4 Nyeck does not notice the sticky grenade.

Kate detonates the grenade by shooting it. Attack roll. 1d20 → 19 Kate shouts “bomb’s away!” and shoots the grenade.

Free action. Kate slams the door shut, preventing the party from taking damage.

The grenade explodes. Damage roll. 5d4 → 2 + 4 + 3 + 3 + 1 → 13 Nyeck takes 13 points of damage.

Vasir uses Overload. Free action. Vasir opens the door.

Attack roll. 1d20 → 10 This is not sufficient to hit.

Nyeck dodges the Overload with a roll.

Phos melees Nyeck. Attack roll. 1d20 → 15 This is not sufficient to hit.

Nyeck dodges the cleaver with a roll.

Nyeck shoots Vekar with their shotgun. Attack roll. 1d20 → 17 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 2d8 → 8 + 4 → 12 Vekar takes 12 points of damage.

ADDITIONAL ACTION: Nyeck shoots Phos with their shotgun. Attack roll. 1d20 → 18 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 2d8 → 6 + 6 → 12 Phos takes 12 points of damage.

Vekar shoots Nyeck with his cryo rounds. Attack roll. 1d20 → 17 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 3d4 → 4 + 3 + 3 → 10

Nyeck contests cryo. Strength saving throw. 1d20 + strength modifier → 5 + 3 → 8 Nyeck fails to contest.

Nyeck takes 10 damage and is frozen.

Beetle shoots Nyeck point-blank with her sniper rifle. Attack roll. 1d20 → 20 Crit.

Roll damage. (3d6) x 2 → (6 + 4 + 2) x 2 → 13 x 2 → 26 Beetle says, “Don’t try and give me the cold shoulder,” and shoots. Nyeck takes 26 damage and is killed instantly.

Beetle checks to see if there’s ammo in the sniper rifle. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier → 2 + 3 → 5 There might be ammo in the gun. There also might not be. Beetle is sure, however, that this sniper rifle is her new best friend.

Beetle names her sniper rifle. Beetle names the stolen sniper rifle the Cold Shoulder.

Phos takes Nyeck’s shotgun. Kate takes the shotgun and gives it to Phos.

Beetle takes back the pouch of tea she had given to Zeta. It’s covered in blood. It’s a little gross.

The party checks out Nyeck’s office. Investigation roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Kate → 18 + 1 → 19 Phos → 14 + 3 → 17 Vekar → 12 - 4 → 8 Beetle → 4 + 3 → 7 Vasir → 3 - 1 → 2

The party finds some documents that Annos wants, as well as the button that will release all the Reaper creatures, but nothing else of interest.

Phos reads the meme Beetle had sent to the group on her omni-tool. Technical roll. 1d20 + technical modifier → 7 - 2 → 5 Phos fails to read the meme in her messages.

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[lysitheaioandeuropa]

1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say? “where are we going for breakfast?”

3. If your boyfriend or girlfriend was into drugs, would you care? not at all tbh

4. Is your last name longer than six letters? mhmmm

5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober? sober

6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up? i think thats part of learning life lessons and shit

7. What does your last received text say? “we like trying fancy waters”

8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? countless

10. When is the last time you saw your sister? pheeewwww lmfao like over a year ago.

11. What do you drink in the morning? water, iced tea, and coffee, all in that order

12. Where did you sleep last night? my comfortable ass bed

13. Do you think relationships are hard? yes man. even more so with BPD bc that “you go through 8 breakups a day and the other person doesn’t even know” post is dumb accurate. sometimes i’m level-headed and I trust my feelings and want to act on them, other times I don’t know if trusting them is wise, but I still FEEL things that i’m not sure what to do about.

14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you? HMMM YES YES YES. WOW. YES. I DON’T THINK I HAVE EVER YES’D SO HARD AT SOMETHING.

15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems? not at all.

16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? rainy. I’m a hombody anyway, at least rainy I can enjoy it

17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you? who doesn’t? 

18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants? Black jeans

19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now? I would like to hope so

20. Does anyone like you? mhm, little more than that

21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S? Idk, probably have

23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand? A few people from work come to mind lol

24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo? I have three

25. In the past week have you cried? better question is in the past week have i NOT cried? 

26. What breed was the last dog you saw? red nose pitbull mix

27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower? out of the shower. half and half kinda

28. Have you ever kissed a football player? no

29. Do you think you’re old? existential crisis over my age on a daily basis

30. Do you like text messaging? yeah, its not as “personal,” but i like having the time to think about what i want to say. I am a better writer than i am an eloquent speaker

31. What type of day are you having? I’m not sure. I think I’m having a good one for now. 

32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? I have pierced it, multiple times. have a ring in it now

33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather? 60 degrees and sunny and cloudless is THE perfect weather.

34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you? mhm

35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling? bruh I can’t properly answer this i do not fucking know. I hate flings but relationships are energy i do not have bc hardly have any for myself 

36. Are you a simple or complicated person? simple in some regards, complicated in others. more simple though, definitely. the complicated comes from being “picky,” or just aka, knowing exactly what i want and what i will or won’t put up with and so on and so forth.

37. What song are you listening to? settle down (young ruffian remix). I have been listening to the 1975, getting in my feels and shit.

38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it? 98% of the time i genuinely really really do. I never intentionally hurt people. But I’ve also previously owned up to the fact that i know i am super selfish and lack the proper empathy to deal w certain situations and thats where that other 2% goes to. 39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you? yes 41. When did you last receive a text message? right now (7:33PM) 42. What is wrong with you right now? What isn’t wrong w me omg lmao. I’m having trouble answering these as candidly as I used to 43. How well do you know the last female you texted? girl*, woman*, lady*, anything other than female jfc. and probably the girl i know the best atm 44. Does anyone disgust you? honestly, i’d probably get chewed out for this but most men. not on some “all men suck” bullshit, but more so “still dealing w some trauma and don’t know where i stand rn”  45. Would you date someone right now if they asked? no?  46. Are you in a good mood right now? haven’t decided, but I am pretty nonchalant atm which is better than crying in despair every five seconds 47. Who was the last person you talked to in person? Michelle + co.  48. What color shirt are you wearing? my black work polo

49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear? hmm.. yes  50. Anyone you’re giving up on? considering giving up on a few people lol 51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for? not at all

52. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t? mhm, goes back to that life lessons thing 53. Do you like rain? love that shit 54. Do you care if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks? not really 55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them? mhm 56. Do you like to cuddle? mhm! 57. Are you shy? it doesn’t seem like it bc i have learned how to fake being a people person, but i rly am 58. Do you get along with girls? no, not usually 59. Have you dated the person you texted last? mhm 60. What do you carry with you at all times? my phone, and even then i dont always have it 61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you? hell yeah i would 62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months? mhm 63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship? mhm 64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute? of course 65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week? hmm.. i’m sure something has. Michelle brought me butterfingers to work, and i brought her m&ms. my friend brought me tacos for lunch at work today.

67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself?     i’ll pay for my toes but do my hands myself 68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print?     neither 69. Do you have any stickers on your car?     nah 70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne?     nah canceled at boff lmao 71. Blackberry, Anroid, or iPhone?     iPhone 72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut?     i don’t recall really  73. Do you like diet soda? i don’t like any soda at all 74. What color are the walls in your room?   off-white and dust rose   75. Are you 16 or older?     yes 76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars?     only to season 4 77. Do you have a job?     i have two   78. What are your initials?     CMG 79. Did you ever have braces?     nah, i didn’t even go to the dentist for the first time until i was 20yo 80. Are you from the south?     mhm technically, FL

81. What does your last status on facebook say?     I haven’t made one 82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed?     no i don’t unfortunately 83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad?     mom, but bc she’s forced our relationship on me 84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics?     cheerleading but i wish i had done gymnastics 85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters?     fantastic beasts and where to find them i believe 86. Do you smoke?     mhm 87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops?   like to go out? heels  88. Is your phone touch screen?     mhm 89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly?     curly 90. Have you ever snuck out of your house?     mhm lmao 91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool?     springs 92. Have you ever made out in a car?     i have 93. …Had sex in a car?     i also have 94. Are you single or in a relationship?     relationship 95. What were you doing last night at midnight?     hanging out at home 96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks?     new years eve 97. Do you like the camera on your phone?     fuckkkk yeah that 7+ 98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits?     yeah that didnt work, not my thing 99. Have you ever passed out from drinking?     lmfao oh man yes ): 100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate?   no  101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare?     once  102. Name your favorite Kesha song:     we r who we r and die young i think. cannibal and blow are really good too.  103. Do you have any tan lines right now?     yes, not cute but i also just bought a new bathing suit that i hope i will tan better in  104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts?   nahhh