#killer bean sniper

[celestite-caroline]

I've been thinking about several hypothetical changes to KB such as "what if they all had coffee names" or "what if they still looked a lot like coffee beans" and "what if the newer KB stuff kept the gritty, aggressively 2000's vibe" and to sum up I ended up making an entire AU based off all of these

[autisticandroids]

been listening to you're wrong about and like. okay @barren-and-trivial-words said once that on hannibal, serial killing is fundamentally considered a type of artistic pursuit. and they were right, obviously they were right. that's the basic structure almost, of the series. my favorite example is the eye sculpture serial killer where hannibal is literally like. we are situated in his gaze and he is evaluating the sculpture on artistic merit. but overall hannibal is a tv show about aestheticism and the inherent amorality of aestheticism - it is of course immoral to kill, but it is also often beautiful to kill, and shouldn't beauty outweigh morals sometimes?

and the thing is, media is... a good place to make this point. obviously because making a point is going to be in media, but the nature of hannibal as a tv show for consumption means that aesthetics will always trump morals. because the people on the show aren't real, but the beauty is, beauty does by default outweigh morals.

so hannibal kind of becomes this fascinating metatextual text on the nature of stories, or, you know, it can be read that way. because it is in the nature of all stories for beauty to outweigh morals.

but it's also a comment on the nature of serial killers as a concept. i want to link the two episodes of you're wrong about that got me thinking about this - both of these episodes are about the symbiotic relationships serial killers have with media. with fiction but even more especially with news and non-fiction. serial killers sell papers, and in fact the figure of the serial killer is kind of invented to sell papers - in one of these episodes, sarah marshall reads off a letter sent to a london paper "from" jack the ripper that was probably actually forged by a journalist to heat up the news cycle. it's very cinematic, it reads as absolutely cliche to the modern ear and maybe to the victorian one as well, but i'm sure it made the paper that printed it a lot of money.

and one of the things that i already kind of knew but was reinforced in these episodes is that most of the common knowledge that the public has about "serial killers" both in general and in specific cases is just... wrong. and that's for a lot of reasons. some of it is definitely because it's convenient for the police to have access to the figure of the mastermind serial killer for all sorts of reasons, especially to cover their own incompetence or to just pawn off unsolved cases. but also it's because the media needs sensation to sell papers, and so lurid stories of superhuman killers are just a lot tastier than some guy who murdered three women for obvious, petty reasons and also molested his stepdaughters. the public demands uniqueness, spectacle, extremity. it's not enough to bleed if you want to lead, stories have to bleed spectacularly. so the modern concept of the serial killer was built almost entirely on the back of newspapers, true crime paperbacks, and silence-of-the-lambs-alike feature films. it's not like. a real thing. it's a product of the spin factory, re-working reality into something marketable.

and hannibal lecter - the original, fava beans and a nice chianti hannibal lecter - is perhaps the height of this cultural concept, the star of the serial killer... craze? moral panic? i suppose the word is phenomenon. so it's interesting to read bryan fuller's hannibal as a kind of indulgent commentary on the existence of the newspaper-literary "serial killer" figure.

[i would also recommend ywa's episodes on ed gein, jeffrey dahmer, and the dc snipers for more perspectives on serial killers. while i'm at it you should also listen to their episodes on gangs, human trafficking, sex offenders, the satanic panic, stranger danger, and true crime, but i realize i'm kinda pushing it.]

[probablygoodrpgideas]

Will you be my Hunter Session 1

The player characters met on their way to the residence of the late Emir Patli. They talked for a bit, not revealing much about each other's intentions yet. Morena weirded people out by talking about the weather - with a spoon.

Before entering the residence, our heroes talked with the guard for a bit. He is a Goliath soldier called Sava and can't tell them much, but he does ask them repeatadly to please not rob this place, then hands them the key. He also warns them that there might be monsters inside.

Once inside, the first room they check out is the master bedroom. Apart from the bloody bedsheets, there is nothing of interest there.

Next, they check out the kitchen. It is a bloody mess. The corpses have already been removed, but there was clearly a massacre her in the past, as the bloody silverware clearly shows. Morena reunites her spoon with its family. The heroes also notice that the kitchen hasn't been in use for at least a week. They conclude that most people must have been undead for a while before Lugno gave the vampire spawn the order to kill each other.

After exploring a few rooms that have nothing of interest, they stumble across the library. There, they discover a bunch of recently read books next to a few papers.

The books are mostly fairy tales with some scientific books on the feywild with a focus on people turning into Fey as well as stuff on the new King of the Winter Court: Ashtar, the Living Nightmare. There is also a book about the Wolf Killers (an adventuring party that imprisoned the Snow Queen and became Fey with one of them becoming the new Quen[sic] of the Autumn Court, they were the player characters 3 campaigns ago so I didn't have to explain much during the session) and a book about the council of the 12, the 3, and the one (I have written about that here, tldr it was the event where some gods decided how the afterlife should be run).

Some of the papers were love letters written in Common, between the Emir and a "Nahoma".

"Nahoma"'s handwriting is similar to that in the remaining papers, though the different scrip makes it a bit difficult to say for sure. These papers are written in Northern Elvish. None of the characters know Noerthn Elvish well enough to get much from these notes but Mhoira and I're do notice that the graphs for "enter" and "person" as well as the graph used to mark a name were repeated multiple times.

The last room they explore is the laboratory. There were some alchemical experiments done here recently, seemingly someone extracted pure caffeine from coffee beans. Not knowing exactly what to make of this, our heroes decide to try and ambush the monsters and attempt to question them.

This turned out to be unnescessary as they were greeted by these monsters as soon as they left the laboratory; A group of devils as well as one surviving vampire spawn.

One of the devils, a succubus who tells them to call xer Jill, announces that they were ordered to kill I're. Lugno had grown tired of her and also wanted revenge for I're killing Zarya. I're says that getting rid of one of Lugno's servants in exchange for her arm and eye wasn't really worth it, to which Jill replies that I're might have gotten a lot more from this than just getting rid of one of Lugno's servants.

Sethra tells Jill that xe didn't stand a chance and they would kill xer. Jill replies that she knows this but orders are orders. Besides, death is only a temporary setback for a devil, as they will just reform in Hell after a few weeks.

The heroes ask Jill if they can ask xer a few questions before fighting and she agrees. She tells them that Lugno has left to get the second ingredient for making a potion that allows its consumer to temporarily shift into the Feywild. The caffeine was the first ingredient. No one asks what the second ingredient is.

Then the fighting starts. Here's the map I used:

1 is a Spined Devil (Sniper with the demon template).

2 is Jill (Succubus)

3 is the vampire spawn (Ghoul Wailer, technically without the Relict template but it didn't really matter because if there's only 1 it can't rise again anyway)

4 is a Veil Tearer (Hollow Void Demon)

5 is a Chain Devil (Starving Battle Demon)

The * are Lemures (Natals)

We ended the session after the first round of combat, so you'll get my thoughts on these foes and my map next week.

As always, I hope you're enjoying these posts. If you have any questionsI'd love to answer them but keep in mind that I can't reveal any secrets here so if you want a secret revealed to you, you'll have to either ask off anon or join my discord server.

[rainbowxocs]

Name: James DuPont.

Alt Names: C.A.T, Pluto, Charon, Jane Doe.

Special Titles: Dr. James DuPont, Grandmaster, God Killer, Cat Burglar, EOD, Lieutenant Colonel, Sharpshooter, False God, The Star.

Old Titles: Knight, God of Duality, God of Judgement, God of Eternity, Servant, Empiric.

Username: @kitty9lives

Nicknames: Bad Omen, Kit Cat, Cat Boy, My Rose, My Star, Stray, Blue Bird, Kitty, Chaton, Bunny, Phoenix, Holmes, My Beloathed, Final Girl, The Prophet, Schrodingers Cat.

Chronological Age: 4.5 Billion.

Vessel Age: 605.

Age: 45.

Pronouns: Switches between He, She, and They. Depending on what gender he is that day. (Switches between il or elle in French)

Sexuality: Gay.

Gender: Genderfluid, Catgender.

Base Species: Starling.

Current Species: Litch, Witch.

Disorders: CPTSD, Autism, Insomnia, Selective Mutism, Night Terrors, HPD, Anorexia.

Physical Disabilities: Blind, Deaf (Has a Cochlear Implant), Ambulatory Wheelchair User (Occasionally uses crutches or a cane as well), Has two arm prosthetics and two leg prosthetics, Chronic Pain.

Recovering Addictions: Alcohol, Weed, Nicotine (Cigarettes), LSD, Self Harm.

Religion: Pagan.

Job: Professional Villain, Chemist.

Degree: M.D, Chemistry, Robotics, Computer Science.

Lives in: NYC, New York, 2306.

Languages: French, English, Hindi, ASL, LSF, Spanish, Italian, German, Danish, Dutch.

Height: 5’7”.

Ethnicity: French, Portuguese.

Accent: Brooklyn Accent with a hint of French.

Other Form: Purple Goop.

Animal Form: Giant Purple Isopod.

Spirit Form: Headless, Covered in Roses.

Spirit Level: Acceptance.

Powers: Reanimating, Creation Magic, Death Magic, Prophetic Visions, Judgement, Potions, Alchemy, Shapeshifting, Strings, Pandora’s Box, Lightning Magic, Technology Manipulation, Lie Detection, Time Magic.

Tech: Holograms, Robotic Minions, Smoke Bombs, Paint Bombs, Teleporters, Lock Picks, Lazers.

Weapons: Sword, Pistols, Sniper Rifle, Bombs, Rocks, Scissors, Various Witchcraft Supplies such as salt, wards, etc.

Also Can Use: Muskets, Rifled Muskets, Rifles,

Wand: Uses his hands.

Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Text Color: Purple, Sometimes Black.

Main Animal: Cat.

Main Hobbies: Reading, Video Games, Sculpting, Yugioh, Violin, Otamatone, Puzzles, Robotics, Scientific Experimentation, Coding, Chess, Letter Making, Tambourine, Photography.

Favorite Drinks: Peppermint Tea, Coffee, Classic Boba.

Favorite Snacks: Queso, Saltines, Apples.

Favorite Meals: Garlic Bread, Dino Nuggets and Fries, Mushroom and Olives Pizza, Pancakes, Veal Stew, Pigs in a Blanket, Hot Dogs, Tuna, Chicken Wings, Mac and Cheese, Ham Sandwiches, Maki Rolls, Sashimi, Bagels.

Favorite Candy: Pez, Oreos.

Favorite Dessert: Gingerbread Cookies, Frosted Sugar Cookies, Birthday Icecream.

Favorite Flower: Roses, Purple Forget Me Not.

Scent: Roses.

Handedness: Left Handed.

Blood Color: Bronze, Sometimes Red.

Awareness: Very Aware. (Effect: Negative.)

Birthday: December 1st 1701.

Theme:

Playlist:

Fun Facts: He is always wearing cat patterns and tends to have toe beans on his shoes and gloves.

Special Interests: Technology, Robotics, Chemistry, The Sims, The Path, Sailor Moon, Disney Fairies, The Owl House, Steven Universe, FNAF, Kitty Love: Way to Look for Love.

Stims: Tangles, Cat Noises, Lazer Pointer, Yarn, Pressure Stims.

Stimboard: COMING SOON.

Moodboard: COMING SOON.

Fashion Board: COMING SOON.

Comfort Objects: Wedding Ring with Gold Band and Amethyst, Journal, Furby, Freddy Plush, Old Cat Plush, Gloomy Bear, Fuggler.

Family: Unknown Birth Parents.

Eurydice DuPont (Daughter.)

Eeshani Dupont (Daughter.)

Aurora DuPont (Step Daughter.)

Friends: Joan (Henchman.).

Romance: Jonah Francois, Aditya Ravi. (Spouses.)

Enemies: Jonah Francois (Mortal Enemy)

Patrons: Bastet, Santa Muerte, Hecate.

Pets: Eyeball (Robot), Chain Chomp (Roomba), Mr Terminator (Black and White Cat),

Reincarnations: 𒆠𒋫 (Kita), חַ��ָּה (Eve), Πανδώρα (Pandora), दिया (Diya), Juliet, Other Unknown Reincarnations.

Brief Personality: James is a bit of an enigma. He doesn’t get close to many people, often his ramblings about taking over the world push people away. However if you are persistent, he will warm up to you like a stray. He is incredibly intelligent, and also very very VERY stubborn. But he is incredibly loyal to the people he loves. If you are able to gain his trust he would let the world burn for you, without any hesitation.

Brief Backstory: [COMING SOON]

[fandomworldofdreams]

Bloodsport

Part III

Hannibal Lecter X Reader X Jim Moriarty

Warnings: Violence, language, sexual situations

"It has been two days. I have reached my limit of tolerance." Hannibal dropped the plate of food down before you. "Eat."

"Who is it?" You challenged.

"No one you need concern yourself with. They're already dead, why put them to waste," was he simple reply. He had a glint in his eyes, almost hoping you'd continue to challenge him.

You had spent the past two days unmoving in the room you had woken up in. Mainly staring at the wall, trying to devise a plan of escape.

You had an idea, but no success was guaranteed.

"No."

He stared at you, gaze unwavering.

"I'm not fond of violence. It serves me no justice. But I am not opposed to it. This is your final chance, Y/N. Eat." Hearing his deadly tone made you slightly reconsider.

You turned your head towards the window without a word. He left, gently shutting the door behind him.

Always the gentleman.

It wasn't until an hour later the door opened, both of them entering. Hannibal took a place in the corner leather armchair, while Moriarty sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at you.

"What has your dear brother informed you of about me?"

You raised a brow at him.

What was he getting at?

You shrugged. "You're his enemy. A consulting criminal who hires people to do his dirty work. You are bored, looking for someone to match you and keep you busy."

He seemed content, yet almost offended.

"I own the crime world."

"My bad, Godfather." He scrunched his nose before chuckling.

"Sherly and Will are off limits when it comes to pushing you. After all, it's their test. Dr. Watson, Mycroft, and Ms. Katz. They are expendable."

You immediately stiffened at the mention of your close friends and eldest brother.

"Get on with the implication and demands," you snapped making his smile grow.

"You're so much fun! Dare I say, almost as much as Sherlock. Anyways, it's simple. You eat and bathe and do everything to keep yourself in healthy shape. I won't make a phone call that may cause my snipers fingers to slip at their positions. Mycroft is probably in meeting, talking with every possible person to find you. The good doctor is consoling Sherlock. And Ms. Katz, well she's watching crappy telly like you two used too. Digging through morgue reports in a desperate attempt to find anything."

You glared at him, then turned your gaze to Hannibal. "Quid pro quo, Doctor," you said. He tilted his head at you. "No meats, I won't eat another human. Salads, beans, anything else." You slid your gaze back to Moriarty. "I'll even play you in a game of chess."

There was a silence where they both seemed to be in deep contemplation. "Agreed," Hannibal spoke and you nodded, grateful.

You followed soundlessly, trailing behind them to the kitchen where Hannibal prepared a grilled cheese and fries. You sat on the stool to the bar.

Every detail seemed to merge together and not connect. The cabin was comfy beyond all else. A feel of home. Not somewhere killers would bring their prey.

"Why out here?" You asked. "You could have trapped me in a shitty basement somewhere and called it a day. Less hassle. You two also work, well, at least Moriarty does."

Hannibal paused his cooking for a moment.

"Clever girl," Moriarty hummed. "Come. Sit."

He gestured to the chess board as Hannibal placed the food next to the opposite seat of Moriarty. You hesitated before complying.

He grabbed the queens and closed his fists around the pieces, one in each.

He then placed them behind his back and brought them back out for you to choose.

You pointed to his right hand, he opened his palm to reveal the white queen. You nodded, taking it and making your first move.

Your knight moved to F3.

He shrugged, moving the pawn in front of his king.

Arrogant, but a pro.

It wasn't until you got a pawn that he spoke.

"Putting you in a basement doesn't fulfill our entire plan. It's not entirety about them. You serve a great purpose too." You noticed the move of his queen.

"What would you say Sherlocks greatest flaw is?" He asked when he dismantled your knight. You bit your lip and he tsked.

"Honesty, kitten. I gave you truth, your turn."

"His inability to express himself" you said, softly. He looked at you expectantly. "He lacks honesty within himself when it comes to his emotional state."

He seemed bored with that answer.

You swiped his Bishop. He smiled softly.

"Will you let me speak with my brother? Or Will?" Your eyes were pleading and he seemed to consider your request. An amused look on his face.

"If you win, you can call lover-boy."

He said nothing else and moved his piece. You felt the pressure and started to internally panic.

Calm down, you won't win if you're distracted.

You focused as he was closing in. He left an opening, waiting for you to move to grab hold of his piece.

You hesitated a moment.

Then you saw it.

You swiftly moved your queen, blocking his king in.

"Checkmate." The words fell from your lips with a breath of triumph.

Will.

He chuckled to himself and it almost made you question whether he let you win. But it didn't matter.

Moriarty glanced at Hannibal who had been watching the exchange.

Hannibal pulled out a burn phone, dialing a number and holding it out to you.

You went to grab it, but he pulled it back, pressing the speaker button and setting it on the table.

Ring, Ring, Ri- "Hello?"

"Will!" Your voice cracked and you heard shuffling.

"Y/N?! Where are you? What have they done to you?!"

"I'm okay, love. I haven't been hurt."

"Hannibal, you son of a bitch let her go!" The smirk that fell over Hannibal's face sent shivers all over your body.

"And what will you do if I refuse, Will?" Hannibal asked. He stalked closer, placing his hand on the back of your chair making your spine straighten and tense.

The voice that came fron Will was one you did not recognize. "I will hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands." Your mouth fell slightly open.

"Will no-" a hand clasped tightly over your mouth and Hannibal leaned forward.

"I look forward to the duel. You will have to find me first, of course. And I'm growing rather fond of Ms. Holmes. I'd find her soon if I were you, I'm sure she would taste wonderful." Though you knew he was a cannibal the way he enunciated portrayed a sexual innuendo underlying his tone.

Will heard it too.

"Hannibal-" Moriarty hung up, tossing the phone on the floor and crushing it with his expensive shoe.

Hannibals hand did not leave your face, but instead slid down to brush your throat.

You breathed in a shaky breath.

"Tell me yours and Wills happiest memories together." His breath tickled your ear and you clenched your jaw.

"No."

He smiled at you, playfully.

"Then our fun together can truly begin, little dove."

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

Tags:

@viviace

[harcourtholmesii]

First Row: - The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim; Primarily, I adore the open world and making it all your own. - Fallout 4; Much the same as above, just in a setting I can appreciate more (post-apocalyptic). - Among Us; When I am a crewmate, I am the most suspicious person in the group. When I am the murderer, I am the most innocent of beans. I enjoy the irony, I think is what I am saying. - Red Dead Redemption; Honestly, I haven't played this game in a loooong time, but I remember loving it all. The world and space, hog-tying criminals and leaving them on train tracks... Ah, the good times. - The Red Lantern; It is a game of beautiful puppy dogs and I love it. Puppy deaths are off, because I can't stand the thought of it as is, I don't need to bawl my eyes out over a Nintendo Switch game. Second Row: - Assassins' Creed II; What I felt was missing in the first game was massively improved upon and explored in this one. Not to mention, a very charismatic main cast and a gorgeous setting in Renaissance Italy. - Dungeons & Dragons (Fifth Edition); Whilst you didn't specify video games, I had to put this TTRPG here, simply because it rules my every waking moment. - Dead By Daylight; The community is a love/hate box of mad cats, and the game is a cruel mistress, but I am addicted to it! I love it far too much. Claudette and Zarina are my main survivors, and though I rarely play killer, both Trapper and Pyramid Head are my mains. - Cuphead: Don't Deal With The Devil; This game was tough, and there are still certain bosses I dread to face again, but I love it all the same. The lore is interesting, the style is beautiful and the soundtrack is such a bop. There is a reason I just have 'Don't Mess With King Dice' in my usual youtube playlist. - The Lord Of The Rings: Battle For Middle Earth II; I absolutely love this game, and I am so disappointed that I can't run it on my newer computer. I haven't played it in years, but it was my go to game 5+ years ago. Third Row: - Payday 2; My partner and I play this all the time. It is a game we both love to have, and whilst they are far better at it than I, there have been improvements made on my part. Sokol will forever be my main. - This War Of Mine; The addition of the expansion packs made this game work even better, at least for me. It is a hard game and a depressing one, but it is one I adore. For the life of me, I can't really fathom why, but every time I play it, I am immersed. - Sims 4; I only play this game to build. I have played some of the actual life simulation but it bores me pretty quick. Sims 2 was the only one of the Sims games that kept my interest in the actual gameplay. However, Sims 4 is my favourite for its style and the updating of the build/buy tools. - Infected; If no one has tried or played this TTRPG, I highly recommend it. It is a zombie game, but it is so much fun with a lot of character building options. It fuels my love of the genre so much! Fourth Row: - Team Fortress 2; Whilst I am more of a Mann vs Machine player, I do really enjoy most gamemodes for TF2. I haven't gone into many of the fan made works, though I really want to, simply because I am unfamiliar with how it works. My mains, in order of my frequency playing them, are; Medic, Sniper, Scout and Pyro. - Pokemon Sword; I'll admit, I don't have much to say about this game. I do genuinely enjoy it, but Pokemon games have never really been to my fancy. I love seeing them roam about the wild, though! - Until Dawn; The first game that I saw published by Supermassive Games, and my overall favourite. Yeah, the characters don't really behave all that realistic/aren't really relatable, but the game is fun with some really good jump-scares and storytelling. - Outlast and Outlast Whistleblower; There are a number of games on this list that deserve a viewer discretion warning. This, however, takes the cake. Probably the most violent and horrific of the horror genre on this list, both the main game and its DLC are brilliantly terrifying and with a very in-depth and well-crafted story (in my humble opinion). - Northgard; A game remarkably similar to Battle For Middle Earth II, and yet, with a lot more to it and a very harsh spike to its difficulty. Sometimes I just chill on normal mode, other times I am losing my mind as a blizzard rolls in for Winter. Goat clan all the way! I shall have all of the fluffy bois! Fifth Row: - Detroit: Become Human; This game gets a lot of well warranted critique, and understandably so, but it does not dampen my love for such an interesting concept and a wonderful cast of characters. Connor's storyline is, by far, my favourite, followed by Markus' revolution. - Telltale's The Walking Dead (Seasons 1 and 2); This game hurts me inside. It really does. I do not much appreciate how the story turned in the second season, but the first is fantastic and the second is a worthy, if harsh, follow up. As for the other two seasons and the DLC, I'm afraid I have not played them. - Minecraft; This is a game made for me to waste time. It is both stressful and stress-relieving. It might be childish, but it lets me whittle away the hours I have stewing in my own consciousness. - Telltale's The Wolf Among Us; Holy Hell, I love this game! Good guy Bigby all the way but I adore most everything about it. The style, the main character, the rest of the cast (especially Faith, Grendel and Bloody Mary), and just the story pulls me in, no matter how many times I play it. - Call Of Duty: Black Ops II (Zombies); This one is just fun. I used to play this all the time with a friend and we have been slowly getting back into it and getting better every time. If you want just straight action and a rising difficulty on horde mode, I would highly recommend!

A short list of honourable mentions below: - Warhammer End Times: Vermintide - Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn - Garry's Mod: Prop Hunt - GTA V - The Forest - Gartic Phone - Papa's Something-eria - Google's Internet-Is-Down Dinosaur Game

Whoo! And that should be most, if not all of it. This was a long and unnecessary answer, but I am an indecisive hooman being who felt the need to answer in detail.

Now is the time for me to return to my lair. See below:

Until I am awoken again, thank you @ur-typical-nerd​ for the lovely ask, and sorry for the unnecessarily long rant. Have a good one!

[atinybitofau]

S A N ⇨ mafia au

THE ONE WHERE SAN = SMILEY SATAN

part two

• he watches you.

• and he’s thinking to himself.

• fuck, this dumbass chick really had to be at the right place at the right time.

• he was the most wanted hitman in South Korea

• the most skilled hitman belonging to none other than the top class mafia group ATZ.

• he was trying to fill up his empty schedule that’s all.

• wanted to kill some low life useless fuckers for fun and extra money— why not.

• he never gave a single shit to care about meaningless souls like society’s proper.

• he’s the greatest hitman to ever live?

• why should he care.

• never spent more than 10 seconds looking at a face pretty or not.

• his tongue pokes at his cheek, leg bouncing underneath the tripod of his sniper in impatience before he lets out an exasperated groan.

• “Fucking bitch better move out of my way or I’ll blow her brains out too.” he mutters under his breath.

• he was losing too much oppurtunity.

• “5 seconds, San. Take the shot.”

• “I’m fucking trying! There’s some bimbo in my line of fire and I am not going to waste my time cleaning up her mess.”

• he sighs, finger hovering the trigger counting down from five.

• that is—

• till he stops at three as soon as you turn around.

• you’re gorgeous, he thinks.

• like no one other.

• his eyes narrow and his mouth waters at your beauty.

• special and nothing he’s ever laid eyes on before.

• satan’s gift to him after hard years of working for his ass.

• san’s lips part and he has to look out of the scope for better landscape.

• you smile and he’s shot down.

• he forgets for the last three seconds what he was supposed to be doing.

• “You dumbass. We missed the mark. Now we gotta wait two more hours. You better hope you can sit your cocky ass down for it all cause you are not taking your eyes off that scope, San.”

• with pleasure, he wants to reply to his boss but his finger grazes his lips instead of the trigger reveling on you.

• yeah he didn’t mind.

• fuck yeah he didn’t mind.

• not when you’re on the other side of the scope for him to drool over.

• it bogs him why you were working at that piece of garbage establishment and how he could slither you up his sleeve before he leaves.

• he sits back in his chair, watching you more than his target at this point.

• “San, are you paying attention this time?”

• he hears Hongjoong but he’s more intent on watching you then listening.

• you had curves for days and he couldn’t wait to get his blood stained hands on them.

• “10 seconds.”

• “San.”

• “4 seconds.”

• he packs his sniper, pulling out a small pistol from his weapon bag, strapping on a vest under his business suit.

• “What the fuck are you doing, you idiot?”

• “Gonna get the girl.”

• “SAN IM GOING TO FUCKING KILL—“

• he pulls out his in ear out before his boss could finish and practically runs to the building across.

• he has to get you.

• he won’t be able to think straight.

• wont be able to work straight without knowing he’d see your face every night he comes home.

• won’t kill anyone until he gets his reward.

• “Sir, I’m sorry but you can’t go in there.”

• San doesn’t like to wonder at a pretty face twice.

• at least one that’s not yours.

• he shoots the poor receptionist point blank and half the building with just a little pistol between his fingers.

• not knowing he got the target down in the process.

• but then he see’s you, the lone survivor.

• scared shitless behind your desk with wide eyes and trembling lips.

• “Hi.” he manages to say from his salivating mouth.

• so that’s what people’s faces look like, he thinks. two eyes, one pair of lips just like his.

• he’s never looked at another person for this long before.

• he’s thinking you’re the only person he’ll ever look at for that long. the only person he’ll ever give it worth.

• “Um, hi.”

• you kind of think he’s nice..

• for smiling at you before killing you.

• you think he has a nice smile for a psychopath.

• and that you might not want to haunt him later for killing everyone you hated in a span of 2 minutes.

• “You’re very pretty.”

• you let out a faint laugh of disbelief.

• there’s blood on his cheek, a smoking gun in his hand, and a heart okay with killing innocent lives.

• but he has the time to call you pretty instead of put a bullet through your skull?

• “I’m San.”

• “Y-Y/n.” you mumble tripping over your feet. “Ow. Sorry I’m y/n.”

• he smiles again this time teeth in full view.

• he may be a bad bad criminal but

• he’s got the most sweetest smile in the world.

• “Sorry for killing all your friends, sweetheart.”

• you blink shaking your head at the assassin. “S’okay. They’re not my friends.”

• “I’m glad. They were chumps anyway.” the corner of his lip curls up. “You got a family, y/n? Actual friends?”

• he approaches you.

• you take a step back not knowing what his intentions are.

• his gun seemed noncompliant by his side and you suddenly feel like he’s not trying to threaten you.

• quite the contrary actually.

• you have a weird feeling that maybe this charming assassin was trying to impress you.

• “My family.. my family don’t care what I do. My friends are just people I talk to every now and then.”

• in other words, you had nobody.

• but in no means were you trying to make a good impression.

• you just didn’t want to get killed.

• “I’m gonna give you two choices.”

• “Okay.” you were very obedient and it showed with your answer.

• you weren’t the type of girl who overstepped boundaries.

• he liked that.

• a little too much.

• “You’re either going to come home with me like a good girl— a very nice pretty girl I must add and stay with me until I die,”

• you swallow because you don’t necessarily see a way out.

• “Or I could just shoot you and leave you here with the rest of these dead useless no good rotten excuses for human bodies.”

• let’s see.

• spend your entire life damned to a hot psychopath killer who obviously thinks of you as the prettiest thing on the planet.

• OR

• die with a bunch of losers at a piece of garbage establishment where you never really belonged in the first place.

• “You.”

• now he feels like a twisted version of prince charming.

• he gets to run away with the girl.

• “I think you have the prettiest eyes.” he says as he rushes to you to hold your hand. “The prettiest smile.”

• he reminds you of a lovesick puppy when he looks at you.

• “You don’t talk to a lot of people do you, San?”

• he’s sweet to you.

• it bogs your mind how this sweet little bean was actually a heartless sociopath.

• “No.” he answered you proudly.

• you breath a soft chuckle and he thinks it’s the most precious thing in the world.

• if something were ever able to kill him, it’d definitely be you.

• “You’re gonna love me.” he says rubbing at the back of your hand, eyes dawned in obsession. “And I’m gonna love the shit out of you too. Is that okay, sweetheart? Are you okay with that?”

• “Y-yes.” you’re flattered and a little bit terrified. “Yeah, yeah that’s okay.”

• it’s not like you have a choice.

• his smile almost makes you convinced he’s not actually a cold blooded killer.

• anyone who would’ve saved you from that crap life of yours?

• you probably woulda loved anyway.

• but you definitely weren’t complaining that it was Choi San that ended up saving you.

• he’s just an assassin by day and your boyfriend by night.

• who knew the devil could be so sweet?

@atinybitofau

[jcmorrigan]

blakeworther- I personally I love your hc’s so much- any au’s or anything ya got for them? I really wanna know more about what goes on.

This was once again a BAD QUESTION TO ASK

Aside from the Skyward Sword AU, which I never went back to again, there’s only one AU that I like for Blakeworther, which is the AU that I like for everything ever. I’m not even sure I consider it a true AU, even though it absolutely is. So, okay, I have this thing called the WHAM ARMY, which is a massive crossover group of my favorite villains (led by the eight who make up the acronym but this ain’t about them). Obviously, because Victor, Vincent, and Albert are all pretty firmly villains (even if they lean “those weird morally bereft people we end up being friends with somehow”), I want them to join the WHAM ARMY. So my thoughts for them here are pretty much how they’d react in a multicrossover setting, which of my other villain loves they’d get along with, and what the intro arc is for them. Keep in mind I haven’t gotten here in the fanfic yet, so some of this could change in practice, but here are my plans right now.

Cringe ahead.

-They aren’t the originals. I want to make something that doesn’t trip over canon’s current trajectory, even though I don’t know exactly where canon is going, so what happens is that Vexen (Kingdom Hearts) is going to rebuild the three of them as replicas, since he can easily find memory cores for Victor and Vincent in Myers’ storage rooms and there’s just going to be an Albert core there for no reason.

-Vexen then pulls some Chain of Memories magic and restricts the memories they have access to. They will only remember things we have literally seen in VTSOM/TWDAK, and then I can have him release more of their memory banks to them as we get more chapters. (Even if they all three get redemption arcs, my replica versions can stay little shits!)

-He DOES NOT tell them that they’re not the originals! For all they know, they fell asleep at the last day they remember and woke up here. But they figure it out on their own despite his best efforts. They still want to get their memories back anyway so they know what the people they were replicated from were like and have a framework to build their personalities from.

-Yes, of course they’re cyborgs! Cyborg replicas. Since they’re operating by KH rules, they prooooobably don’t need to eat human meat? But also I like when villains do fucked-up things and I have jokes about the others packaging “cyborg chow” to embarrass them so maybe they still do engage in a little cannibalism, as a treat

-Each was engineered with a different specialty. Vincent’s is raw physical strength; he can walk into a gunfight without even needing a weapon and still have a chance of winning. Victor’s arms have been upgraded to hold a variety of cannons; he’s the team sniper. Albert is the team “mage”; he can conjure Dream Eaters. In this AU, TWDAK Dream Eaters and KH Dream Eaters are basically the same thing. Albert has mastered a strange art of being able to draw Dream Pieces out of the Realm of Sleep and implant them in physical forms of creatures in the waking world, creating his army. They look like they do because he hates the pastel aesthetic of KH Dream Eaters and redesigned his personal ones to look more fitting with his aesthetic. He’s also a speedster.

-The intro mission involves Vexen attempting to track down a newly-rebuilt Xion (this AU is divergent from KHIII) in Radiant Garden so he can bring her back under his control with some brainwashing. I’m also bringing in the Tsviets as past experiments of Vexen’s, so he’s basically pitting his newer models of experiment against his old ones.

-The party he already has built by this point is going to be Demyx, Simon Laurent (Infinity Train), Tsumugi Shirogane (DanganRonpa), skekSil (The Dark Crystal), and a couple other people I haven’t hinted at instory yet and don’t quite want to spoil. But Simon, Tsumugi, and skekSil will all also be Vexen’s creations - Simon and skekSil are replicas and Tsumugi is an android.

-Vincent, Victor, and Albert wake up for the first time, and while Vincent and Victor remember each other as friends, they’re just like “And why is our nemesis from RMU also here?”

-Albert probably fights with Vincent for dominance of the trio and I’m not sure which one of them is the trio leader at this point.

-I moved Nine Bean Hill from World of Final Fantasy to Radiant Garden because Radiant Garden needs a coffee shop and first of all, thanks to Hunger Games Simulator fuckery, my friends and I have an in-joke about Vincent Edgeworth having an eternal grudge against Dunkacino, so I’m going to use the coffee shop to reference this somehow without having to put actual Corporate Brainwashed Al Pacino in this ‘verse

-But also I like to think Lann and Reynn play a lot of bubblegum pop, so catch Victor and Albert dancing to the PA like idiots and then getting Demyx, skekSil, and Simon in on it while Vincent and Vexen are like “Oh God why are these our friends”

-(There are reasons this particular Demyx goes by a different name instory and it’s weirding me out to type “Demyx” for this post)

-Without spoiling too much of the arc, there IS a part where Blakeworther beats up the Tsviets, there IS a part where they battle the Anima summon from FFX and win, and there IS a part where despite all of this, Xion kicks their asses across the city

-They go through this mission seeing each other as partners and friends (though Vincent and Albert are reluctant to use the “friend” word at first), but after they all get back to base, they’re just...suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that they’re strangers in a strange land missing half their memories.

-They room together, and they end up crawling into the same bed for solidarity reasons. This is actually where I first envisioned the “rough day” sleeping position - Vincent and Victor are chest-to-chest, then Albert just snuggles in behind Victor and the other two are like “Okay, we’re gonna just let this happen” and Vincent and Albert touch at one tangent point where their arms cross.

-The days might get a little rougher after they realize they aren’t even the originals.

-Eventually they assimilate into the chaos house with no problem.

-Vincent tends to hang out with the party poopers of the house. Especially Mozenrath (Aladdin: The Animated Series). (P.S. If there are any VTSOM fans out there who also know the 90s Aladdin TV series...I CAN’T be the only one who noticed the surface similarities here, right?)

-Victor Blake and Roman Torchwick (RWBY). Oh, God, this is the hell duo. They’re party animals who love to dance and drink and dance drunk. It was not a good idea to let these two redheads meet.

-Albert and Neopolitan (RWBY)! They both love stabbing people and Victorian button boots! I actually kinda have this idea that they would pick up more fucked-up serial killer types to hang out with them - Mad Madam Mim (The Sword in the Stone) is their patron despite being a much tamer example, but Albert also decides he really likes Scaramouche (Samurai Jack), Junko Enoshima (DanganRonpa), and Jerome Valeska (Gotham).

-For a real deep cut, Albert also opens up a joint Dream Therapy office with Dr. Cheshire Broach (Crypt TV). It’s either called “Krueger & Broach” or “Broach & Krueger” depending on how long it takes either to notice that the other moved his name to the front of the sign again. You should ABSOLUTELY not trust either of these men to give you legitimate therapy (though if you’re good friends with them, they can and will use their dreamon powers to help you best your nightmares in a bloody fashion).

-Actually this ‘verse is the entire reason I thought of them doing drag karaoke to “United We Stand” by Amberian Dawn because the WHAM ARMY is all about karaoke, drag, and any combination of the two

-I haven’t decided yet if their romance will be a slow burn or a faster affair. I’m expecting them to tell me as I write out the fic. But I think in a lot of respects, it’s going to be more of a friends-to-lovers story than their original forms had. The three of them are forced to become an elite cyborg warrior unit created by the same mad scientist, they had a big bonding mission together where they became ride or die (whether or not they want to admit it), and eventually...we can start revealing that they’re CATCHING FEELINGS.

-The WHAM ARMY has many, many power couples and ships of various numbers of people but Blakeworther ends up becoming yet another POWER THROUPLE around base, and it’s understood that messing with one of them will earn the wrath of the other two

-They go on to assist in many, many missions with the purpose of taking over various worlds and kingdoms and just fucking them up

-Vincent Edgeworth will kill the TBTC equivalent of Dunkacino

You have to understand that TBTC is my hyperfixation to end all hyperfixations. Every piece of fiction I touch ends up related to it in some way. At some point the majority of how I interact with Blakeworther is going to be through this AU. I’m just a sucker for crossovers and villains having a place to be bros and party.

[the12thnightproject]

Twelve Lies I Told Shingen Takeda, Chapter Four: Occupational Hazards

Katsuko delivers dessert to Shingen, she receives bad news in return. Also, archery, and a blindfold. TW: Offscreen death

“Halt!”

With his mouth set in a determined line, Yuki barred my progress toward Shingen’s room. Every time I tried to go around him, he leaped to block me like a goalie defending a football net. “Where are you going with that?”

Since I was carrying a handful of messages and a basket of pastry, I thought it should be obvious. “Don’t ask a question you already know the answer to.”

Yuki looked over his shoulder and scowled in the direction of Shingen’s room. “I see he’s already trying to bypass my orders by sending you out for dessert.”

“Your orders?” When did he join the calorie cops? “Why? Is there something wrong with these?” No one in the shop had seemed to have any issue with them.

“It’s not good for him to eat that many sweets, that’s all.” Yuki reached for the basket, presumably to confiscate the contraband, but I scooted out of the way.

“Really? He looks like he’s in good shape.” Really, really good shape. My job is to stay observant, so observing that Shingen is a decent specimen is an occupational hazard – especially given all of the pec airing that he does.

At that exact moment, the Occupational Hazard stepped out of his room, and there’s no way that he could have avoided hearing my comment, so I looked him right in the eyes, and tacked on, “for his age.”

I know. That was petty of me. But I was still angry at that setting me up to be killed thing. On an intellectual level I knew his “black powder test” had been a perfectly logical strategy, but what if I had gotten that powder on my hands by accident? Would he or Chiyome have killed me anyway?

With his back to Shingen, Yuki considered blithely on. “That’s not the point. He refuses to watch-.” Yuki got a look at my face, then sighed. “He’s behind me again, isn’t he?”

I nodded, as for the second time that day, Shingen thwacked Yuki on the back of his head. He eyed the confections. “Thank you, Katsu. I think I look like I’m in good shape too. For any age. Also, your former master was correct in his assessment that you’re insubordinate.”

That could simply be the adrenaline rush of being not-dead.

On my way back to the castle I had considered his distrust of me. If I acted overly deferential, slinking around with my voice quiet and my eyes downcast, that would be more suspicious than if I were just my own, unfiltered, slightly insubordinate self. Maybe it’s a cliché, but in this case, the best defense would be a solid offense.

“Bring that inside,” Shingen motioned to the basket. “I’m dying for dessert.” At Shingen’s beckon, Yuki and I followed him back to his room, where I deposited my prize onto his writing desk (GOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL!). Shingen immediately dug in with the attitude of a man starving in the desert. Then, he tipped the basket towards us. “Help yourselves.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Yuki said. He continued to glare at the confections as if they had caused him a great insult.

The smell of the pastry had been torturing me all the way back from the shop – I honestly can’t remember the last time I had dessert… four years ago… maybe? I gratefully took him up on the offer, picked up the closest dumpling, and took a decent bite. My blood sugar level instantly tripled. Apparently Shingen has the palate of a nine year old boy. “Oh my God,” I managed to say.

Help!

“I know, right? Yuki doesn’t know what he is missing.” He fished around the basket for another sweet bun.

Tooth decay and a diabetic coma – that’s what he’s missing.

“Yuki can live with the deprivation,” said the man in question, who was clanking around in the fire pit.

Shingen pointed out the various treats. “If you like that one, then you have to taste this – they make it with red bean paste.”

“I’m still savoring the one I have.” I took as small a bite as I could get away with. I doubted I could realistically fake an mmmm noise. I’m a great liar – but there are limits to my talent.

Yuki discreetly passed me a cup of tea. Bless you, Yuki. Eager to change the subject before Shingen could ask me for a more detailed opinion on his beloved sugar grenades, I handed over his messages and reports.

I still hadn’t worked out how I was going to manage to secretly pass along the new information from Aki. Maybe it wouldn’t be necessary? Shingen had taken the sniper prisoner, so presumably the man was in the castle dungeon. Maybe he had already confessed to the assassination plot. “Have you questioned the man who tried to rob you last night?”

Shingen glanced up from a report he was scanning. “Unfortunately not. His wound turned septic and he hasn’t regained his senses.”

“Oh.” It was a good thing that I was already sitting down – otherwise I might have collapsed. I pictured the sniper as I had last seen him, moaning because an arrow - my arrow – had impaled his hand. I looked down at my own hand, a hand that not too long ago had born the imprint of a tokin. Tentatively I wiggled my fingers, imagining how it must have felt to feel the bite of metal tearing into it. If the sniper’s wound was gangrenous, then he’d probably lose his hand, maybe even-- “Is he likely to survive?”

Shingen looked at me like he was weighing several responses, before saying, “No. I doubt he will.”

So now, in addition to being a liar, I was also a killer.

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. I hadn’t meant to kill anyone, but that didn’t change the outcome. It suddenly felt like there were no nerves in my fingertips, but at the same time, internally I was feeling everything – shock, regret, guilt – in a swirl of emotion that roared in my ears. The sweet pastry that had fallen like a rock into my stomach threatened to reverse course.

I killed someone. Someone who was alive two days ago will not be alive tomorrow because of me.

When I re-opened my eyes, Shingen was still silently regarding me. I wondered if he had ever – well, that was a ridiculous thought. He was the leader of the Takeda clan – he had to have killed many in battle. “Does it get easier?”

Yukimura shook his head and responded first. “No. Never has.” He cleared his throat a couple of times, and gulped down his tea.

But Shingen had a different answer. “Killing? Yes. You learn to put what must done in one part of your mind, separate from the you that lives through every day, walled away from your heart. You have to, or one day you’ll no longer be able to function. But it’s still within you.” He tapped his chest. “It’s still within you.”

I understood. I was going to have to live with this. I was going to have to learn how to live with it.

Shingen sighed, and raked his hair out of his eyes. “I won’t insult you by telling you this man was a criminal and probably has harmed or killed many others. You know that. You also now know what it’s like to kill and that will weigh upon you.”

It did. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t tell me to get over it, or offer a cliched platitude like, ‘war is hell, kid.’ He was treating me like the young man he thought me to be – and I needed to respond accordingly. “Yes, sir, it does.”

His eyebrows lifted at my return to formality. “I would have respected you less if it didn’t bother you.”

“I didn’t shoot to kill him, but I knew that every time I picked up a weapon, I faced that possibility. But – I never understood what that knowledge meant. I hadn’t expected the possible to ever become a reality.” I wondered if I could have avoided this outcome. “Maybe if I had aimed at the musket and not his hand,” I said, mostly to myself. I mentally placed myself back in that tree, remembered how excited I had felt at being part of something. I’d even somewhat joked with myself about adding ghostly noises. It had almost felt like a game. Target shooting… except the targets breathed and bled.

Again that tingling in the ends of my fingertips. I scraped my hands across the tatami mat, hoping that feel of the straw would ground me. Something nudged my arm: Yuki, offering me more tea. I shook my head.

Shingen allowed me another moment to wallow, then seemed to come to a decision. He tapped his hand on his desk to get my attention. “If that was anything more than a lucky – or unlucky, depending how you look at it – shot,” Shingen said, his words challenging my dark mood, “I will swear off confections for a week.”

Wait…. What? The sudden reversal in his tone nearly gave me whiplash, shocking me out my emotional turmoil.

I couldn’t let that affront to my archery skills stand. Insult my swordplay all you want, but I’m absolutely accurate with a bow. “That arrow went right where I intended it to go. I’ve made harder shots blindfolded.”

“Get your weaponry then and meet me on the grounds as soon as you can.” He got up and headed for the door, his long legs crossing the distance in three strides.

Once he was gone, I looked at Yuki, who had been quiet through this entire conversation. “Did he just challenge me?”

“Not sure, but if you win, I’m holding him to that no-dessert-for-a-week penalty.” Yuki thumped me on the shoulder. “So, you’ve gotta win.”

***

Not a duel. It was much, much worse than that, I discovered a short while later, when I arrived to face what appeared to be at least half the residents of the castle, and a field set up with five targets in varying sizes placed further and further back.

With a dramatic bow, Shingen addressed the spectators. “Greetings my friends and” … another bow to Mai who was cuddled up with Kenshin, “Goddess.” He then gestured to me. “My newest recruit has been bragging about his prowess with a bow. And since it’s such a beautiful day outside, it seems a perfect occasion to test him on this.”

No pressure there. Thanks boss.

Yuki, who had taken the whole “no-dessert” thing to heart, was pacing out the distance to the targets. Not exactly necessary, but since he’d been getting on my nerves, bouncing around my peripheral vision like a boxer’s trainer before the title match, I told him to go for it.

“Katsuhira will demonstrate the skills of accuracy and distance.” Shingen continued, while the vassal who this morning had held the bets was already running a book on this show as well. I noted Sasuke was first in line, and hoped that this time, he was betting on me, not against.

Yuki trotted back to me and said, “forty paces for the small targets, going all the way back to 150 for the big ones in the back.” Not even 100 meters, then. The targets Aki had had me practicing on were closer to 150, so this shouldn’t be a challenge – I mean, it wasn’t like they were asking me to bullseye whomp rats from a T-16. However, I would have liked to have been warned before this whole thing started, because I was getting tired of warlords and spymasters making decisions about my life without consulting me, but…details.

“Thanks Yuki. Better go place your bet and get that no-dessert thing in writing.”

While everyone got in on the betting action, I stood there trying to shut the world out. It was easier to pretend I was back at The Mountain, staring at the targets set out in front of the pear trees and the stables that I would have to repair if I missed a shot. There wasn’t any wind today, which was one thing I wouldn’t have to worry about. There was, however, a caterpillar crawling across my toes, but having killed one life form this week, I wasn’t about to compound that by killing another, so I ignored it.

I progressively narrowed my focus until it was a straight line from me to the first target. Then, without turning my head I said to Shingen. “Ready.”

“Not so fast.”

What? What now?

With my tunnel vision destroyed, I turned to look at him. He smiled and there was a hint of mockery in that look that boded ill for me. He turned to Mai, who handed him a long strip of fabric. “You did say you could have made that shot blindfolded.”

I had said that, yes indeed. Note to self. Stay away from hyperbole when discussing your skills.

I have trained a lot blindfolded, as Aki’s got an entire Jedi Master type philosophy when it comes to archery. But this was an unfamiliar field, and I needed a warm-up. “Practice shots first, without the blindfold,” I bargained.

“Fair enough.”

I turned back to the targets and sent ten arrows in succession zipping toward the targets, trying to set muscle memory. I missed my second and seventh shots, but hit the rest. Ok. I could do this. I would prefer not to have to do this in front of an audience with less than thirty minutes warning, but… I can do this.

“Ready,” I said again, this time not moving an inch from where I was standing, keeping my mental focus trained on where I felt – no, where I knew - the targets were. The tranquil air settled my senses, keeping me detached from everything except my bow and the inner vision of the targets.

Then Shingen stepped behind me, nearly as close as a hug, his body radiating heat, to tie the blindfold around my head. His breath and voice glided into my ear asking if I could see. Then he tightened it for good measure, and… there it was, a jolt that I felt when those warm, calloused fingers accidentally brushed across my face.

Reverb.

Ok, hormones, you and I need to have a long talk about choices... and timing.

Full text of the chapter posted on Tumbr this time; this chapter, previous chapters and prologue available on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32812042?view_full_work=true

[artificialqueens]

game of survival, chapter nine (branjie) - holtzmanns

Summary:  Brooke reaches for the coat rack behind her and pulls off a bucket hat that can only be described as memorable. It glows a fluorescent green, pink text across the front designating the hat wearer as a ‘#1 Dad’.

It’s hideous. Vanessa loves it. She can’t help but grab for the hat with a wicked grin, impulse control of a 3 year old toddler shining through. “Gimme that.”

The bucket hat is so big that it falls over her eyes, leaving her gazing at obnoxiously neon fabric. She puts her hands on her hips with a flair, leans slightly to the side. “Thoughts? Would you consider me to be a ‘number one dad’?”

Brooke’s peal of laughter makes her grin, too, and look up at the other woman when she snatches the hat from Vanessa’s head. “Parent of the year. Though I don’t think that hat’s going to help much with any efforts to go incognito.”

AN: Tw in this chapter for mentions of guns and violence. Thank you writ and bean for betaing and for providing A+ commentary while doing so (favourite one: ‘BROOKE IS A SWORD LESBIAN’). 

“You got disguises or anything for our little jaunt?” 

Brooke lets out a snort at Vanessa’s question. “What do I look like, a spy?”

“Don’t you have to be able to sneak around and shit as a hitwoman?” Hitwoman. Brooke, smiling in front of her, braiding her long blonde hair into a plait out of her face, a hitwoman. 

It’s hard to reconcile the two versions of Brooke in her head, sometimes. The cold killer who had slaughtered men in front of Vanessa on her apartment floor, versus the woman with a twinkle in her eyes who peppered kisses all over Vanessa’s face to make her laugh this morning.

“I’m usually pretty good at going undetected.” Brooke says it with an air of pride, satisfaction in her voice as she pulls on her jacket. “Blending into the background when I need to.”

“Hey, don’t think I’ve forgotten that one time I fuckin’ saw you on the street and you ran away from my ass so fast-”

“Ugh.” Brooke covers her face in her hands. “Don’t even start.”

Vanessa tries to move Brooke’s hands away, smirking when Brooke makes a face. “‘Undetected’, my ass.”

Vanessa’s laugh turns into a screech when Brooke brings her hands down, tickles her sides. “No playing dirty, you cheat.”

Bringing up the rather insane way that they interacted with each other the first few times is the type of dark humour that Vanessa finds she really fucking enjoys. How else are they supposed to deal, anyway?

Brooke reaches for the coat rack behind her and pulls off a bucket hat that can only be described as memorable. It glows a fluorescent green, pink text across the front designating the hat wearer as a ’#1 Dad’. 

It’s hideous. Vanessa loves it. She can’t help but grab for the hat with a wicked grin, impulse control of a 3 year old toddler shining through. “Gimme that.”

The bucket hat is so big that it falls over her eyes, leaving her gazing at obnoxiously neon fabric. She puts her hands on her hips with a flair, leans slightly to the side. “Thoughts? Would you consider me to be a ‘number one dad’?”

Brooke’s peal of laughter makes her grin, too, and look up at the other woman when she snatches the hat from Vanessa’s head. “Parent of the year. Though I don’t think that hat’s going to help much with any efforts to go incognito.” 

Vanessa gives her a fake pout (and if she notices the way Brooke’s eyes soften, she says nothing, no ma’am). “If you say so, master of all spies.”

“C’mon, you.” Brooke tugs on her arm, pulling her out the door and outside for the first time in days. “Time for us to venture back out into the world.”

The vibrant trees that surround the cabin look like they’re straight out of a Disney movie. It’s a contrast from the night that they got here, when the shadows and fog had cast grey tones over everything, making the forest seem haunted and untouched by anyone before them. Now, sunlight streams in between the leaves, and birds chirp at each other high up in the branches. Vanessa swears she sees a butterfly float by. It feels deceiving, though. An aura of calm that’s hiding something much more sinister.

Perhaps it’s what makes her squeeze Brooke’s hand extra tight during the ten steps or so to the SUV, glance around the surrounding forest looking for signs of movement, of anyone hidden. It may be early in the afternoon, but she’s allowed to worry about who might be lurking, waiting to take her out.

It’s fine. 

Brooke gives her hand a reassuring squeeze in response, so that’s something. 

The sunlight makes her squint and wish that she had her sunglasses. Maybe she can pick up a cheap pair during their grocery run. 

Brooke tugs her to the back of the SUV and pops open the trunk. The sight makes Vanessa’s eyes widen as she lets out a low whistle.

Weapons. Tons of them. Long cases that Vanessa can only assume carry rifles arranged neatly to one side, a variety of pistols beside them. A bunch of complex looking equipment on the other side that Vanessa would have no idea what to do with were they ever to be in her hands. Knives lining the side wall. And is that-

“A sword?”

“What? Oh. Not a real sword. From an old Halloween costume, actually.” Brooke shrugs, upturn of her lip. “Figured it would help add some dramatic flair.”

“Of course you did.” As if a trunk full of already lethal weapons wasn’t quite enough. 

Vanessa reaches a hand out tentatively, brushes it over some of the equipment. “How the hell do you even choose what to use?”

Brooke’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as if no one’s asked her that question before. Considering her field, no one’s probably stayed alive long enough around her when she’s on the job to do so.

“Well.” Brooke reaches for one of the long cases, unzips it at the corner and shifts over so that Vanessa can peek inside. A sniper rifle indeed, looking straight out of a military base. “These are better for long range shots. Ones that are too risky to pull off up close, where you’re more likely to get caught and instead still have a chance of making the shot from further away.” 

Her fingers brush the sleek barrel of the rifle. “A personal favourite.”

Brooke has a favourite gun. Goddamn.

If Brooke sees the slight ‘o’ forming on Vanessa’s lips she ignores it, instead gesturing to the handguns. “These are for closer range. Different ones work depending on the expected distance, loudness, accuracy, and recoil for a given job.” 

She tries to picture Brooke with a handgun, and her brain can only conjure up an image of cop Brooke with a police-issued firearm. It’s kinda hot. 

Brooke then shifts her attention to the pile of equipment beside the handguns. “Laser rangefinder, binoculars, some scopes, and stockpiles of extra ammunition.” 

Vanessa has no idea what half of the items that Brooke points to are even for, but her eyes are too busy darting over the contents of the trunk to ask.

“Anyway. Solid career path. Would recommend to any young professional.” Brooke’s dry humour makes Vanessa bark out a laugh.

“The wildest show and tell I’ve ever fucking seen.” She pauses. “Can I keep one on me when we head out?”

The thought has been running through her mind the entire time that Brooke’s been showing her the trunk. It’s not because she wants to feel like a badass with a gun (okay, partially) but she wants to be…safer. Right now, as heart flips over in her chest while she feels like there’s a target painted on her back, she wants all the protection she can get. She needs it.

Brooke’s head whips up sharply, eyes piercing. “Why?”

“I know how to handle a gun, I have one. Remember?” She does, at home. Something Brooke should remember better than anyone else, after taking it from her that night in the alley and delivering it to her office the next morning. It feels as if ages have passed since that time, not mere weeks.

“That’s not a reason.” 

Vanessa huffs. Brooke’s right, but still. Saying it out loud feels so…stupid. “I just wanna feel safer, that’s all.”

“Will it make you feel safer?” Brooke’s gaze at her is unreadable.

“Something to defend myself with? Honestly yeah, it will.” She can’t help that she wants every safety mechanism in place possible. 

“Have you ever used yours? Actually used it?” The question sounds like a challenge, but Brooke’s voice is soft when she asks it.

Still, it doesn’t stop Vanessa from bristling. “At a shooting range when I got my license. Why does it matter?”

“It’s one thing to hold it, possess one. Another feeling entirely once you pull the trigger out of that setting. It takes a toll, Ness.” Vanessa’s eyebrows raise at the nickname. Brooke doesn’t seem to realize that she’s even said it, continuing on. “You don’t realize the gravity of it until someone is bleeding out on the ground, and it’s because of you.”

Vanessa shivers, remembering the way that Brooke had killed the two men in her apartment, the hardness in her eyes. The lack of remorse. A sharp contrast from what she’s describing right now. 

Brooke seems to read her mind, lets out a bitter laugh. “Until you get desensitized to it, and seeing dead bodies does nothing to you anymore. Not a good place to be, either.”

Brooke bites a lip then, eyes flitting between her and the handguns in the trunk. “Though an extra layer of protection may not be a bad idea. Just in case.” 

She grabs for a small pistol, silver and sleek and light in Vanessa’s hands when Brooke passes it to her. It’s smaller than her own at home, but the weight feels familiar when she holds it up, sees it glint in the sunlight.

“Just…” Brooke trails off, and Vanessa can see the gears turning in her brain as she tries to figure out how to phrase her next statement. “Don’t aim for the head, or the upper torso, okay? If it comes down to it. Not that I’ll let it. But still. Go for less lethal areas if you absolutely have to, a shoulder or a leg, hell, even the junk. Enough to stop a person but not enough to kill them. You don’t want something like that on your conscience.”

“Good enough for me.” She’d rather not kill anyone either, thank you very much.

“Besides,” Brooke’s eyes are lighter now, a small smile on her face, “Wouldn’t that be a public scandal for your campaign.”

“God. Imagine trying to explain that. ” What a press conference Ra’jah would have for that one. 

“He ran into my bullets. He ran into my bullets, ten times.” Brooke winks at her. 

Vanessa can’t hold back a noise of delight, nudging Brooke with her elbow. “Not a Chicago reference.”

Brooke helps Vanessa check the safety on the gun, gives her a holster so that she can tuck the gun inside her jacket. The weight feels grounding, pulling her down.

They’re just going to the grocery store, for crying out loud. Not on some sort of mission. And yet, she doesn’t want to have to take it off later. Is she ever going to feel completely safe again, in her life?

Brooke reaches up to close the trunk, and Vanessa spares one final look at all of the weapons that are so neatly organized. 

She pauses on her words when the question inevitably floats into her mind, one that she’s not sure if she should ask. She’s surprised it’s taken so long to pop up, really. “What…what were you going to use on me?”

Was it a sniper rifle? One of the smaller handguns? 

Would Vanessa have seen it coming?

Brooke chokes slightly, turns it into a convincing cough. She avoids eye contact with her, hand running through her hair. “That - well-”

Vanessa takes pity on her. “I’m messing with you, Mami. I know it was the sword.” 

The out that she gives her makes Brooke scoff out a laugh, though Vanessa can see her shoulders visibly relax. “You got me.”

Maybe Vanessa doesn’t want to know. 

Nonetheless, she wonders if a death by Brooke’s hand would have felt like a reckoning.

Brooke rifles around in the glovebox once they get into the front seats of the SUV, muttering under her breath until she finds what she’s looking for. “Want these?” 

She’s holding out a pair of sunglasses, black and square rimmed. “You were squinting, earlier.” 

Vanessa takes them with a growing flush on her face over the fact that Brooke had even noticed. She slips them on, and Brooke gives her an appreciative once-over. 

“They suit you. Keep them.”

Again. A cold killer who is simultaneously one of the most thoughtful people that Vanessa has grown to know. What a juxtaposition she is. 

The first time that they had bought food was on their journey to the cabin after escaping from Vanessa’s apartment. Neither of them had really spoken in the supermarket that they had stopped at a couple of hours into their drive, picking up items as fast as they could and keeping their heads down so that they could get back on the road. Vanessa had been on the verge of a heart attack. 

This time is different. Brooke isn’t a terrifying, confusing concept to her anymore, not someone who’s just killed two people without blinking an eye. Instead, Vanessa looks at her and sees a woman who has a strange affection for nectarines (‘We gotta get some, I love them’) and enjoys debating over the right type of bread to buy. 

Sure, Vanessa is still scared. Scared of whatever the fuck’s going to happen, of the people still looking for her. But she’s not scared of Brooke anymore, compared to last time.

It makes all the difference. 

They leave the store with their arms laden in shopping bags, covering the weapons in the trunk of the SUV with the groceries. Vanessa grabs a bag of trail mix and brings it with her to the front, putting it in between her and Brooke so that they can snack on the drive back. 

“Remind me to call Yvie for updates once we get back.” Brooke drives with one hand as she reaches into the bag of trail mix. “I feel like we’re missing something.”

“Yeah?” Vanessa looks up at her, answer muffled as she chews. “Like what?”

“That’s just it - I don’t know. I feel like we should have had a few more leads by now. Gotten a bit closer to figuring out who else is coming after you.”

It makes sense. God, she wishes she knew, so she could take them down first. She hates feeling like a moving target that’s being hunted for sport. 

“I can call Silky too, see how the team’s doing.” Vanessa takes another handful of trailmix, thinking back to their last conversation over a burner phone the night before. “I know they were thinking about running some political attacks on the congressman that hired you, though they haven’t done anything yet. Not sure if it would even be a good idea to provoke him more, honestly. Though we can’t just go and expose him instead, either.”

“Why not?” Brooke looks at her with a genuine curiosity that would crack her up if she couldn’t tell that Brooke was being completely serious. Has she truly not realized?

“Brooke. If we exposed him, it would expose you. Cause he hired you. Specifically to kill me.” Vanessa watches as understanding dawns on Brooke’s face, her eyes widening. 

“Right. Forgot about that.” Brooke’s voice is uncharacteristically small as she bites her lip. “I mean, considering the amount of people I’ve gotten rid of-”

Vanessa cuts her off. “Don’t even start. Not an option.” It’s not. There’s no way she wants anything to happen to Brooke, even if would take the congressman out of the picture. Who knows how many years she could go away for if all of her hits are exposed? 

She can’t lose Brooke - she just can’t. Not when she just got her in her life, this wonderful strange woman whom she wants to keep around after this is all over, know every part of.

“It’s not like I don’t deserve it.” Brooke’s laugh is humourless. “But, okay. For now. Though we’re keeping that option there, if push comes to shove.”

“We’re not going to even touch it. We’ll figure something out together, okay? Where we’re both fine and get through this in one piece and also alive.”

Vanessa holds her hand out and Brooke doesn’t hesitate to entangle her fingers with hers. Her grip is tight and Vanessa gives it a squeeze in reassurance, rubs her thumb over the outside. Brooke looks away from the road for a second towards her, and Vanessa gives her a small smile. She wants to reach and smooth out the worried crease between her eyebrows.

There has to be some way that it can work out. 

Brooke parks the SUV when the cabin is still at least a hundred meters or so away from them, small like a doll’s house. Vanessa looks at her in question. “Why’d you stop so far?” 

“Figured it would be better to approach the cabin on foot, at least have an element of stealth if needed.” Brooke looks at Vanessa’s face, which is no doubt displaying the look of alarm that she’s feeling inside. “Not that we necessarily need it. Just in case. Better to do the ambushing than to be ambushed, y’know?”

Nonetheless, the uneasy feeling in Vanessa’s chest ruminates, grows. What if someone really is waiting for them there? It’s strange to think about, after the cabin has been their safe house for the last several days. The fact that leaving it has made it potentially dangerous is unsettling, their one safe place no longer a sanctuary.

“It has the same amount of danger as it does when we’re staying there.” Brooke’s hand is soothing hers now, tracing her palm. “Nothing’s changed. Just like to be careful, that’s all. Keep us both safe.”

Fair enough. Better to be vigilant at all times than to let their guards down at the wrong moment. She can accept that. 

“That makes sense.” Her hand goes to open the door. “Shall we start hauling these groceries in, or what?”

Brooke reaches out a hand to stop her. “Let me go in first, scope it out. Just to be sure, before calling you in.” 

Brooke isn’t her security guard, though she sure is doing better than anyone that Vanessa’s team has hired in the past. Vanessa shrugs, leans back against her seat. “If you say so.” 

Brooke leans over and kisses her forehead before getting out of the SUV. Vanessa watches as she opens the trunk, grabs a few grocery bags to bring along with her. Efficient.

She watches through the window as Brooke disappears inside the cabin, swinging the door closed. She feels sweat rolling down her neck, the afternoon sun turning the car into a greenhouse. She fans herself, and props open the car door when her hand motions don’t do much to alleviate the heat. 

Time feels as if it’s passing excruciatingly slowly, waiting for Brooke to come back. It hasn’t been more than a minute or two from the way that the second hand ticks along on her watch, but it feels like hours, like being apart from Brooke this long stretches out time somehow. 

How long is it taking for the bitch to put some of the fruit in the fridge?

Vanessa starts counting in her head to make the time pass faster. It’s only when she reaches 357 seconds when little tendrils of doubt begin to creep in, take over the focus in her brain. It’s been a little too long, she’s waited a little too much. Sure, she’s impatient, a little dramatic at times, but she also knows Brooke. 

Brooke should be here by now. 

The thought hits her like a train, makes her stomach roll. Was there really someone waiting for them, for Brooke, in the cabin?

She needs to get there now.

Her hand brushes over the holster on her waist, grabbing for the gun. Her grip is shaky as she creeps closer and closer, every step towards the cabin making the blood pump in her ears just a little bit louder. 

The door in front of her is closed, but unlocked. She presses her ear to it, tries to listen for any sound on the other side of the wall, inside the cabin. Nothing. 

She heaves it open, winces at the loudness of the creak that follows.

“Brooke?”

She’s barely around the door when she hears-

“Vanessa, no!”

Brooke. On her knees, hands in the air, guns pointed at her head. Men that Vanessa’s never seen before, swivelling around wildly to face her. 

She freezes. Sees Brooke’s eyes wide, her mouth wordlessly pleading her to run. 

When Vanessa hears one of the men with a gun still pointed at Brooke click off the safety of his weapon, she does just that. Just not in the direction that Brooke wants her to go. 

Vanessa ducks from a pair of hands attempting to grab her, hurls herself towards Brooke. Pushes her down, body on top of hers. The boom registers in her ears a second too late, makes her ears ring as she shields her body. 

“Brooke? Brooke.” 

Red on her hands. A gasping breath from Brooke, the wisps of her braid framing her face as she looks up at Vanessa. 

Sirens in the background. Vanessa barely hears them because no, no, no, she’s not hurt so it’s not her blood and there’s a stain spreading on Brooke’s shirt and-

Yelling, as the men run out the door, footsteps thudding on the ground when the sirens get louder. A relieved sigh from Brooke’s lips as her glassy eyes search Vanessa’s, registers that she’s okay, before they close. 

No, no, no-

The words that leave Brooke’s lips are soft, barely heard under the yelling of “Police!”

“Thank God.”

No.

[ihaveanimagine]

Uf FS and MT skelebros find a list of names on their s/o’s desk. It has 52 names, 26 are crossed out. On the top right, there is a word written in Arabic, their s/o’s first language. If the skeleton asks about the list, the s/o will just laugh and grin evilly.

(Oh gosh I’m gonna have SO much fun with this one XD)

Underfell!Sans (Red)

Red was sneaking into your shared room to try and prank you, both of you had been doing an unofficial prank war, and you were winning. He had a few ideas which ranged from moving all the furniture 5 inches to the left, to placing everything upside down, to simply hiding in a closet and jumping out at the right time to scare you.

It took a few minutes of planning, but eventually he settles for wrapping all your furniture in that plastic food wrap thing. Being the lazybones he was, he only placed a single layer of seran wrap over a piece of furniture before moving on. He had gotten the closet, bed, and was moving on to your desk when he saw a random piece of paper on the desk.

Normally, he was all for respecting your personal space on your side of the room and would normally have just put something on it like a paperweight and continued on with his prank, but there was something at the top of the paper that caught his eyes.

The title of the page was written in a font he had never seen before. It was flowy and foreign to him, and he had no idea what to make of it, but his gaze drifted down to see a list of 52 names, 26 of which were scribbled out.

Briefly he joked with himself he fell in love with and married a hitman, but quickly dismissed that idea. He pulled up a non-plastic wrapped chair and began analyzing it, his curiosity pushing him to try and decipher the meaning.

His curiosity ended up getting the better of him when you came home and walked in on him staring intently at the page as he chewed on one of his fingers in thought.

“Reeeeed, what are you doing?” Your voice startled Red out of his focus which resulted in him jumping three feet out of his seat and landing on the floor with a loud CLACK

“b-babe!!” He squeaked, trying to get up and act like nothing happened “h-hi! u-uh, wh-wheeeeen did you get here?” He propped his elbow up on the overturned chair and gave you a loppy grin, hoping to charm you into forgetting what you just saw.

“Just now” You grinned, looking back and forth from Red and the desk “I see you found my list.” You said with a mysterious grin. “uuuhhh, your list?” He repeated, you nodded and skipped over to him, placing a quick peck to his nervously sweating skull and walked out of the room.

“w-well, if you got a list, what’s it for? babe? babe, c’mon, sweetheart don’t leave me clueless!”

As you walked out of the room you gave an evil laugh and placed a hand on your stomach, wondering how long it would take him to figure out that the names were meant to give you ideas for a third member of your family…..

Underfell!Papyrus (Edge)

Edge was going around the house in a frantic cleaning spree while you were out with friends. He had gotten the sudden urge to clean and he’ll be darned if he wasn’t going to answer that urge.

He had successfully cleaned every room in the house except your shared bedroom and was sifting through a pile of papers on one of the bedside dressers when he saw a random piece of paper slip out and fall to the ground.

Picking it up Edge stared curiously at the title, recognizing it to be in your native language of Arabic but having no idea what it actually said. Curiosity peaking, Edge quickly put away the paper pile he was sorting and focused his attention to the piece of paper.

The paper only held the title in Arabic and 52 names with 26 of them crossed out. He briefly considered trying to decipher the letters of Arabic, but then decided it was probably private since you wrote it in your native language and not English.

Folding the paper, Edge placed it in his pocket and just decided he’d ask you about it later. He finished his cleaning and even managed to get dinner started when you had come home.

“I FOUND SOMETHING VERY INTERESTING WHILE I WAS CLEANING TODAY.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you find?”

“I FOUND THIS PIECE OF PAPER ON YOUR SIDE OF THE BEDROOM. MAY I ASK WHAT IT’S FOR?”

“H-HEY, WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS DOES NOT JOKE ABOUT THINGS LIKE THIS, WHAT’S IT SAY!!!”

You maaayyy need to find a new place to hide your Embarrassing Nicknames list now……

Swapfell!Sans (Razz)

Razz was snooping through your stuff, trying to find one of his shirts you had stolen the other day when he chanced upon this piece of paper with a strange title and a long list of names.

Being the jealous little tsundere bean he is, he bounced straight up to you the moment he saw you “MATE, I DEMAND TO KNOW WHO’S NAMES THESE ARE AND WHY YOU HAVE THEM WRITTEN HERE!!!”

“S-STOP LAUGHING!! WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? WHAT’S SO FUNNY!!?? ARE THESE NAMES OF ENEMIES YOU HAVE FAILED TO DEFEAT??? THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!! THERE ARE 52 NAMES AND ONLY 26 CROSSED OUT. COME!! I WILL TEACH YOU HOW TO EFFECTIVELY DESTROY MORE ENEMIES WITH THE LEAST AMOUNT OF TROUBLE.”

You should probably tell him soon that those were just names of people you promised to bake some cookies for…….

Swapfell!Papyrus (Mutt)

Mutt had been trying to cling to you while he “slept”, reluctant to let you leave for your work and hadn’t noticed a piece of paper that had fallen out of your bag at the last moment. He actually didn’t even see it until Razz came by and began lecturing Mutt about leaving trash all over the floor.

Mutt, in his half-asleep daze, went to pick up the paper and stared curiously at it. There were 52 names, with 26 crossed out and the title was in a strange font. 

Huh, he’d have to ask you about this. But first………..he took out his phone and began trying to decipher your handwriting. He didn’t bother with the title since he had nothing to compare it to, but as he searched the names he got some………….interesting results…..

You came home later that day and you were greeted with Mutt sweeping you off your feet and pressing a long kiss to your lips. “What’s the attention for?” You asked, blushing heavily “Not that I’m complaining.”

Mutt reached into his pocket and pulled out the list “explain.” He said, jealousy seeping into his voice/

You burst out in laughter and had to hide your face in Mutt’s jacket to steady yourself.

How were you going to explain to him that those names were your monster maple syrup dealers!?

Mafiatale!Sans (Colt)

Colt was trying to look for one of the first aid kits that you two had stashed in the bathroom. He was looking for some pain killers (you had gone out for some monster food and he was stuck with a broken arm) when he came across a single piece of paper folded up in the first aid kit.

Curious, Colt took the paper along with the painkillers and headed to the kitchen. After consuming the pills, he turned his attention to the paper. The title was in a foreign language which Colt recognized as your first language Arabic, but the names were in English.

Seeing as he had a few minutes to spare, Colt began trying to deduce who these names were and what they meant to you. He counted 52, 26 of which were crossed out. He figured it was some kind of hit list, which wouldn’t surprise him, considering you were both in the mafia, but what more or less scared him was the blood splots on the paper.

They weren’t very thick, it seemed as if there was only enough blood to be smeared on the paper, the fingerprints standing out against the white page. Colt continued studying the list, hoping to whatever star would listen that these weren’t names of people chasing you.

When you came home you found Colt copying the list down on a separate sheet of paper, trying to copy your handwriting exactly. “Colt, what are you doing?” You asked, dropping some cinnamon bunnies on the counter before rushing over.

“What are these names for and why is there blood?” He asked, presenting the paper he found in the first aid kit.

You fell to the floor laughing.

THAT’S where the list of people you’ve beaten in boxing matches went!!

Mafiatale!Papyrus (Sniper)

You both were gearing up for a job, Sniper was the hitman and you were the distraction. As you were packing the necessary guns and knives, a slip of paper fell out of your vest pocket. “OH, WHAT’S THIS?” Sniper asked, picking it up “S-Sniper wait!”

Sniper looked at the list, the title was in Arabic and there were names listed on it. 52 if he counted right. “WHY ARE THEIR NAMES ON HERE?” He asked, flipping it over to see if there was anything on the back.

Your face flushed bright red as you descended into laughter.

Well, guess this was a good a time as any to tell him you were part time in a gang that fought against abusive spouses/parents.

[racingtoaredlight]

Beans & Toast: The Crew Assembles

“We can’t do this alone, Beansy.”

***

The Terroir was almost a distant memory, a scant few hours after its sinking.  The second Tommy picked up Beans, Toast and Fitzsimmons, they were planning their next moves.  And they couldn’t have found a better savior than the bastard du Pont scion.

Beans and Fitzsimmons knew the score.  Toast had a good idea.  Nobody was sure Tommy cared regardless, but he was more valuable now than the entire du Pont fortune.

Tommy steered with one hand while constantly on the phone with the other.  The other three couldn’t really do much more than watch and wait.  Toast was right, they couldn’t do this alone.  But who could they trust?  If a joint CIA-MI-6 covert prison ship can be infiltrated so precisely, how could Beans trust his own agency?

“Sir, I have something to tell you.”

***

The Dingo is aging gracefully.  A man at peace, especially given the precarious nature of his industry.  Once the head of the octopus controlling all the tentacles of his international crime empire, he’s learned to delegate in recent years.

Of all the quirks the Dingo possesses, one of his more charming quirks is his insistence of going undercover and mingling with legitimate business interests.  Specifically, he likes to attend leadership conferences, easily gaining access through his myriad shell corporations, leaving intelligence agencies none the wiser.  After all, why would an international crime lord attend a conference at the Mariott in Tulsa, Oklahoma in February?

But it was at this exact conference where the Dingo got the inspiration for succession planning.  He knew that his empire likely dies and splinters with him, but what about the next generation?

All those questions were answered quicker than he ever could have imagined.  The stoic architect dominating the underworld had softened of late.  He enjoyed having more time to follow his passions, no longer having to use the Geneva atelier for Patricio Nona, his favorite tailor, to conduct business.

As Nona measured a gun checked jacket draped over the Dingo’s shoulders, a strong, tall, beautiful woman with tightly cropped brown hair and an impeccably tailored suit walked into the office.

“Sir, everyone is in position.”

Meet the new boss, the same as the old boss.

***

“Con, have you heard from Tommy?”

She hadn’t.  Not since yesterday.  They both worried.  Even Ben du Pont texting Preston “I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU CONTACT ME AGAIN I’M GOING TO KILL YOU” didn’t amuse him enough to keep the worry away.

When all of the sudden Connie’s laptop bings.

ENCRYPTED MESSAGE FROM: 385719849083 TO: 87522365852

IM OK, GOT THREE WITH ME, NEED HELP WE CAN TRUST, MEET IN CAPE TOWN THREE DAYS, DAD GREAT JOKE TO UNCLE BEN THAT WAS HILARIOUS

***

Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” blasts over the loudspeakers into the hot Texas air.  The acrid smell of cordite mixed with the savory aroma of smoked meat.

Colonel Ribs was the founding CO of Meal Team 6.  The best of the best.  More gristle than a shitty brisket, who likes to brag he’s killed more people than the plague.  His phone rings.

“Preston!  Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long, long time.”

***

“Dad, are you sure we can trust this guy?

He didn’t really know how to respond.  They’re in dire need of some help, and even though this mission requires the absolute most level of trust and operational security, time was a luxury they didn’t have.

"Darlin’ if Ribs says this guy is legit, I think we gotta roll with him.  We can’t be vettin’ everyone, and Ribs’ word is as good as gold in my book.  They were in some sticky shit on a rescue mission in Central America, and Ribs says this guy’s as cold blooded a killer as it gets.  Check this out.”

Preston slides his laptop around.

“Well ok then.”

***

ENCRYPTED MESSAGE FROM: 385719849083 TO: 87522365852

BEANS SAYS WE’RE GONNA NEED A SNIPER.

“I got just the guy, dad.”

***

“Dad, what about Slowhand?”

“Con, I forgot all about him.

***

ENCRYPTED MESSAGE FROM: 385719849083 TO: 98985266332

YOU IN?

***

TO BE CONTINUED

[aion-rsa]

Clarice Episode 2 Review: Ghosts of Highway 20

https://ift.tt/37cOLgW

This Clarice review contains spoilers.

Clarice Episode 2

Clarice episode 2, “Ghosts of Highway 20,” takes the series further from The Silence of the Lambs, and deeper into federal cop procedural territory. FBI Agent Clarice Starling (Rebecca Breeds) went rogue at the end of the debut episode, “breaking the chain of command” and telling the press that an apprehended suspect just might not be a serial killer, but part of something larger. Now she is waiting for repercussions.

Clarice is already doing penance as the episode opens, counting off pushups to metal music. Pushups are a military punishment for rookie infractions and, back in the ‘90s, heavy metal music was blasted at hostile prisoners of war. To further distance themselves, the VICAP squad gets deployed to Tennessee. Starling’s superior officer, Deputy Assistant Attorney General Paul Krendler (Michael Cudlitz), only called her up there to keep an eye on her.

This is not a serial killer situation. The leader Lucas Novak is “a standard-issue country gentleman, described as charismatic.” What started off as a “hillbilly rehab clinic” turned into a fringe militia group. Someone shot an “ATF agent, who is in stable condition, but they’re now in the middle of a standoff and don’t want another Waco, that was a cluster.” He doesn’t finish the word and that’s part of the problem of having something like this on network TV.

Regardless of the source material, any new ground which gets broken does it within such tight constraints. It’s not only the restrictions of words or offensive images, but the cookie cutter timelines of a network procedural. Cable procedurals get to cut a little deeper, but they’re usually as guilty. This is why shows like Mindhunter truly made waves. They break the formula, and throw off the timing, which makes the inherent suspense more effective and mysteries more unexpected.

Of course, we can expect rogue cops to do the unexpected. No sooner than the self-proclaimed knuckle-dragging agent in charge of Starling, Murray Clarke (Nick Sandow), tells her she shouldn’t be in the FBI, she goes running off following a flashback-inducing kid. It’s part of her MO. It is almost a running gag. A few moments after this, Agent Thomas Esquivel (Lucca De Oliveira) tells her she’s got to prove people can trust her, when she disappears from his viewfinder and stops calling on her walky-talky. It feels like they’re just giving her signposts on the road to rogue status.

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TV

Clarice: How Does The Show Compare to Hannibal?

By Gabriel Bergmoser

In episode 1 it was established that Clarice is now a celebrity cop, having solved the “Buffalo Bill” case at great cost to herself. A lot of the agents are on record as thinking her high visibility is a drawback. Krendler greets her at the beginning of the episode by saying he’s putting her up for transfer because she clipped a federal case and drew attention to herself. “You’re Clarice Starling,” an FBI sniper says. “You’re all over the news. It’s a power play.” It’s almost a given that the “charismatic” militia leader Novak will only talk to the female agent the kid saw while she should have been out of sight. The same agent Novak saw on TV. As Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade might mockingly say in The Maltese Falcon, “This should put you in solid with your boss.”

Clarice is obviously answering to a higher authority, as much as this is exactly the thing pissing off her FBI co-combatants. Not only does she agree to walk into the backwoods fortress, but she goes in ready for her closeup. She’s pegged Novak as a narcissist, and it reflects well on her. On top of this, the attorney General also shows up bringing national media attention to a local matter which no one would otherwise care about.

The show does have a way with settings, however. I don’t think I’ve ever seen creepier string beans than the ones strung up like tiny corpses inside the Statesmen’s headquarters. While I admit that’s an overstatement, the first time the beads appear they look like they’re framing a crime scene, rather than one to come. Novak does his best to live up to the charismatic reputation, cooing at the agent while he softens her skin with lotions, trying to pick at her southern brain as well as its left hemisphere.

The battlefield on the series is on the turf of psychological warfare, which is a familiar minefield for Starling. She dodges verbal bullets from her bureau-ordered therapist; ducks hair-triggered PTSD bombs; and dances around territorial alpha male supremacy shrapnel. If anyone’s going to find a hidden den of sex slaves and a statewide clique of authorities with blackmail fetishes, it’s going to be Agent Starling. She’s also going to find the narcissist’s weak spot, the prime suspect’s blind spot, and the elusive shooter. She has a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time.

The acting is top notch all around, but the main character only really connects with the weekly villain. When Clarice drops seconds before a decisive sniper shot, it gives closure to the earlier conversation about trust. But the trust between characters is broken moments later when politicians protect their own. Clarice frames it as if they’re borrowing against the future, but it is complicity, and ultimately broadcast copaganda. Bad cops can be trusted to resign when they’re caught, no need for trials. Everyone’s got a thing for daddy, and the most prominent father figure is a long-dead cop, who died doing his duty.

“Ghosts of Highway 20” adds to the mystique of Agent Starling because she is once again proven right in all the wrong ways. The episode’s suspense is amplified by the subtle sexual subtext, but dampened by the contrived structure. Clarice still hasn’t proven whether Clarice is brilliant or lucky, and we can be sure she’s going to have to start at square one again on the next case.

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Clarice airs Thursdays at 10:00 p.m. on CBS.

The post Clarice Episode 2 Review: Ghosts of Highway 20 appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[buckyscrystalqueen]

Taking The Shot: Part 3

Pairings: Negan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, typical Walking Dead stuff

Word Count: 4,606

Part 1 / Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two weeks were spent much like the first two days. In the mornings you went out with the crew, scavenging for supplies and being the sniper Negan needed. You would return at some point in the afternoon and while Negan worked through his rotation of wives, you got to know some of the people on the crew you worked for, especially Arat. She was the only other woman who went on the runs with you and despite being a stone cold killer she was actually a really nice woman once you got past her rough exterior.

“Alright bitches, what are we playing today?” You asked one late afternoon as you sat down backwards on a chair at the wobbly round card table, handing Arat a beer you had snagged from the kitchen while Simon shuffled the cards.

“Texas.” Simon said as Jared, one of the guys from the crew sat down across the table from you with the box of worthless money you used to play with.

“Count me in.” Dwight said as he pulled up a chair between Arat and Jared.

“Sure you don’t got baby sittin’ to do?” Simon teased as he dealt out the cards and you laughed as you took a stack of money from Jared.

“Bite me, tool.” Dwight countered.

“Alright quit with the pissing contest and throw the flop.” You said as you tossed your one dollar small blind on to the table, peaking at the pair of kings you had in the hole with a straight face.

“I don’t even know why I bother to play.” Jared said as he adds his two dollar big blind match bet onto the stack before pointing at you. “(Y/N)’s got the best damn poker face I have ever seen and I used to play in Vegas all the fucking time.” You chuckled behind your room temperature beer as you matched the bet and shrugged.

“Hey, man I don’t know what to tell you. When you’re one of the only women training to be a Seal and you are playing a bunch of dudes for who has to scrub the other gender’s bathroom with a tooth brush you get really fucking good at playing poker really fucking quick.” You looked at the pair of fours and the king on the table and checked, knowing that with a full house, you had this round in the bag.

“It still blows my mind that you were in the Navy.” Arat said to your left as she tossed in two bucks. “You looked so damn innocent when I first saw you.”

“Yea until she dropped that dead sumbitch at half a mile out.” Simon says while Dwight raises two dollars and Jared folds. “You got talent, girl.” You shrugged as you called the four dollar bet and waited for the turn.

“Hey, what can I say, I was taught by the best of the best.” As the turn card, an 8, hits the table you check as you feel a pair of hands fall onto your hips and you jump slightly.

“What’s in the hole?” Negan whispers in your ear as he rests his scruffy chin on your shoulder and you show him your hand as the table checks all around. 

“Finish this round then let’s go eat.” You nod as the river card gets tossed down and you tossed four bucks onto the pot, grateful that Negan had a decent poker face as well.

“You got it, darlin’.” The table stays dead quiet in Negan’s presence as Arat calls and Dwight folds.

“Alright, let’s seem ‘em.” Simon says as he tosses his money on to the table as he flips his cards onto the table revealing a straight. Negan chuckled as he stood up and you flipped your kings over on to the table.

“See, I fucking told you!” Jared says as he points at your cards while Arat drops an ace and a four next to you and you reach over and grab the pot, handing it to your friend to give her the upper hand. “I ain’t playin’ anymore if she’s playin’.” You laughed as you stood up from the table and grabbed your beer with a smirk.

“Hey, you can’t play with the big dogs get your ass back on the porch. See y’all in the morning.” You said as you raised your beer and turned back toward Negan with a smile. He shook his head as the two of you walked down the hallway and you laughed. “What?”

“You’re just fuckin’ amusing baby doll.” He said as he turned into his personal dining room, pulling out your chair for you.

“How am I amusing?” You asked as you pulled the gun from the back of your jeans and set it on the table next to you.

“The fact that you would rather be drinking fucking beer and playing poker with the crew over drinking wine and gossiping like the other wives.” You shrugged as one of the other sweat suit clad rule breakers and his handler brought in the cart with your dinner.

“Women, for the most part bore me. I’ve been raised around mostly men my whole life. My mother tried to get me into dresses but when I wore blue jeans and Chuck Taylors under my debutante ball gown and then proceeded to get wasted she gave up.” Negan laughed as he put your plate of black beans and rice down on the table in front of you.

“Now that is something I would have paid to see.” You laughed with him as you picked up your spoon.

“What, me in a ball gown or me wasted?”

“Both. Have you always been that rebellious?” he asked. You nodded as you swallowed your mouthful of food.

“Hell yea. You only live once so you ought to make your life worth remembering.” You took another bite, rested your elbow on the table and put your chin on your fist as you chewed. There was a slight twinkle in your eye as Negan looked at you and he chuckled.

“Uh oh, I don’t think I like that fucking look.” You pointed at him as you took your elbow off the table, pressing your luck with your next question since the two of you were alone anyways.

“What did you do before all this shit happened?” You watched his features harden suddenly as his past was brought up and he looked down at his plate, taking a large spoonful of food so you pressed on to soften him to the idea of opening up. “Hey, I know you don’t like getting personal so feel free to pass on any question I ask and I want you to know that this room is our Vegas. What is said here doesn’t leave here out of sheer terror of Lucille.”

“I was a gym teacher.” He said, bringing a smile to your face that you got a personal answer from the notoriously secretive man in front of you.

“Honestly no offense, but I don’t see you as a gym teacher.” You told him and he chuckled as he finally looked up at you.

“Why not?” he asked as you chewed your food. You pointed at him with your spoon and grinned as you swallowed.

“You say fuck entirely too much to be a teacher.” He smirked and nodded in agreement.

“You should have heard the calls the school would get from parents about it.” You giggled and nodded your head.

“Oh, I bet and I bet the kids just LOVED you.” He shrugged.

“My job wasn’t to get those fucking punks to like me. It was to mold the Goddamn minds of America.” He said sarcastically as he puffed his chest out slightly with a smile and you burst into peals of laughter.

“Did you have any of your own?” You inquired tentatively, wondering how far you would be able to delve into his past before he would shut down.

“No. Wanted them but my wife couldn’t have them.” You nodded, knowing full well that asking why and pursuing that avenue of inquiry wasn’t going to get answers so you switched tactics.

“What kind of music did you listen to?” He smiled, his eyes revealing his slight relief that you didn’t ask about his wife as he took a drink of his beer.

“Classic rock, mostly; Zeppelin, Styx, Kansas, the Beatles… typical “my generation” music.” He said using air quotes and you laughed, loving the fact that he was being so open with you.

“Hey I listened to that same kinda music. Fuck, ‘Rocky Raccoon’ was the song my dad sang me to sleep with every night.”

“Oh, well that fucking explains it all then.” He teased and you scooped a black bean onto your spoon and flung it at him. He caught it expertly in his mouth, smirked and wiggled his eyebrow at you. “Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

“Nope, I didn’t but I will give you two points for it.” Negan let you ask your questions through the rest of dinner, even asking a few of his own and not passing on a single one much to your surprise. By the time you had finished dinner you knew more about him then you had ever known about any other man outside of family in your entire life. It was refreshing to see him relax a little and you could tell that he had never opened up to anyone like this in the past almost two years since the world ended.

“I don’t know what the fuck it is about you, (Y/N).” Negan said as he put the two empty plates on the cart before standing up and offering you a hand. “There is something fucking different about you.” You shrugged as you put your gun in the waistband of your jeans and took ahold of his arm.

“I don’t know what to tell you on that one. I am just me; nothing special.” He shook his head as the two of you strolled through the halls to have a cigarette before he took you back to his room.

“That’s not it.” He pushed open a side door that lead outside to a balcony and stairs and pulled his arm away from yours to grab his cigarettes as you leaned against the wall by the door. “With my other wives it’s a fucking unnervingly quiet meal, meaningless fuck then I send them on their fucking way but with you… Fuck, I enjoy your fucking company. I actually fucking look forward to the nights I’m with you. And while I would fucking love to feel that pretty fucking mouth of yours around my rock hard cock for some weird fucking reason I don’t need it.” He lit two cigarettes and handed you one and you could tell he had more to say so you waited patiently for him to continue. He leaned against the rusty rail with his back to you, smoking his cigarette and you could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

“You remind me of her; fuck, you even look a lot like her.” He said softly as he looked around, making sure no one would overhear his confession. “Lucille, lost her to cancer right as the shit hit the fucking fan.” Your breath caught in your throat at his declaration and your heart seized in pain for him as he turned back toward you with tears in his eyes. He pointed toward the door next to you. 

“You asked me in there my biggest regret. I lied when I told you it was not asking that girl to prom. It was having an affair. Don’t know why I fucking did it; probably just did because I fucking could, but when she got fuckin’ sick, I went running back; terrified I was gunna fucking lose her.” He took a step toward you and brushed his thumb across your cheek, his eyes following the movement so he didn’t have to look into yours and a single tear fell from his eye.

“When you fucking dropped out of that Goddamn tree that night, my heart skipped a beat. I thought you were Lucille for half a second. I felt fucking terrible for threatening you but I couldn’t fucking let you go. But now that I fucking have you, part of me wishes you had fucking left.” His words felt like a knife through your heart and ice water coursed through your veins as his eyes finally met your shocked and sorrow filled eyes. His eyes searched yours as his thumb continued to run across your jaw gently and he continued to explain himself before you could find the words to respond.

“I told myself the fucking day I had to put Lucille down I would never fucking let any mother fucker close; never let them see past the hard fucking exterior I have out of fucking fear. But you… fuck baby girl, you’re…” He sighed as his eyes went back to his thumb. “I want you to see.” His words came out in a whisper and it took you a moment to catch up in your head. Without a word, you dropped your half smoked cigarette and took his face between your hands and dipped into his line of sight.

“I see you.” You whispered back before you kissed him gently for a second. The second you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand moving to the back of your head as his other dropped his cigarette and grabbed your hip. You nodded slightly as he sighed. “I see you and I’m right here. Negan, I’m all yours.”

His lips crashed against yours as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your body as close to his as possible. You wrapped your arms around his neck at the same time as both of his hands moved to grab your thighs, lifting you off the ground and holding you against the wall as you crossed your ankles behind his back. You had kissed him so many times since the night you met him but you both knew that this kiss was so much different than all of the rest. After a few minutes he pulled away, giving you a chance to catch your breath as his forehead rested against yours.

“Stay with me tonight; all night. I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” You smiled as you looked at him through your eyelashes and nodded as best as you could. You saw his eyes light up as he pulled his head back and he jostled you onto one arm so he could open the door and carry you inside causing you to laugh as you squeezed your legs around his waist a little more.

“I can walk, you know.” You teased as you cocked your eyebrow at him.

“I can fucking carry my wife if I fucking want to.” He scolded as his eyebrows furrowed at you, his brown eye sparkling with happiness despite his attempt to mask his joy; a feeling you knew he hadn’t felt in a long time. You furrowed your eyebrows right back at him with a fake pout and he cut you off before you could retort. “Am I gunna have to fucking punish you, princess?” He asked, his forced tone harsh and angry as he opened the door to his bedroom, kicking it closed behind him and walking you toward his kind sized four-poster bed.

“I’ll pretend I don’t enjoy it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew when you opened your eyes the next morning that you had slept in. You stretched out on the soft cotton sheets of Negan’s bed and turned to see if he was next to you and found a note on his pillow. With a smile, you reached over and picked it up, rolling to your side to read it.

(Y/N),

You looked too damn beautiful to wake up this morning so I’m giving you the day off. Enjoy it. I’ll see you this afternoon.

Negan

You smiled as you read the note once more before rolling out of bed and grabbing your jeans. You shimmied into them, put your bra on under Negan’s plain white shirt that you slept in and folded your shirt on his pillow for him with a knowing smile on your face. You went over and grabbed the little note pad he had tossed on his table and wrote him a note of your own, knowing he would probably come back to his room to look for you after he checked your room. You put the note on your shirt and grabbed your hand gun before heading to your room to get your rifle. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you walked out onto the balcony and headed down the stairs, looking for Crystal, knowing that she probably had a protein bar or two you could get for breakfast. When she saw you coming you watched her eyebrows fly into her hair line.

“Well I’ll be damned. I never see you down here this late in the mornings.” She said as she turned around in her chair, ignoring the man that was standing at her table to grab you the breakfast bars.

“Boss gave me the day off.” You said casually as she handed you your breakfast and a bottle of water.

“Well you enjoy it. Looks like a nice day out.” She said as she pointed up to the window and you nodded in agreement.

“Here’s to hoping. Hey, when the crew get back can you ask Arat or Jared to let Negan know I’m out at the gun range?” You asked as you signed the book for your breakfast.

“Of course, darling.” She said and you saluted her with your water bottle in thanks as you walked backwards away from her table.

“You’re the best!” You called out to her as you turned and headed back up the stairs, ripping open a stale strawberry power bar with your teeth and shoving the wrapper in your pocket. As you walked through the halls, munching away on your breakfast you began to hum ‘Walking on Sunshine’ as the conversation from the night before played over in your head.

You knew that the conversation was a Vegas style discussion and that Negan would most likely continue to treat you as just another wife and just his personal sniper but, knowing his true feelings, you didn’t mind that for the sake of the bigger picture. On top of that, you could only imagine how stressful the idea of monogamy would be to him in a world where most of the living population wanted him dead; you would be a target in a heartbeat.

You were still smiling; lost in your thoughts as you walked out the back door toward the gun shed to grab some bullets but as the door closed behind you, you stopped dead in your tracks when your eyes landed on fat Joey lying in a puddle of blood a couple feet in front of you. You panicked as you looked up, expecting a walker only to see a man with long brown hair and a beanie that you didn’t recognize and Daryl. You turned to run back inside to scream for someone; anyone but before you made it two steps Daryl wrapped his arm around you, his hand flying over your mouth.

“I’m sorry for this, (Y/N) but I’m taking you with me for your own good.” You screamed into his hand as his arm came up around your throat and before you even knew it, everything went black.

--------

When you came too, you found yourself in a room whose only light source was thin window near the ceiling above the door and your head was pounding. You reached up to the back of your head and felt something sticky and when you looked at it you knew it was blood.

“Yea, I’m sorry about that.” Daryl’s voice said from behind you and you jumped scrambling away from him. “I didn’t mean to…”

“What the fuck have you done?” You asked him as you backed up against the far wall. Daryl shook his head from the corner he was sitting in.

“Don’t you get who that guy is? He’s a monster, (Y/N)!” He said angrily as he stood up.

“Daryl, I am warning you now; let me go and I won’t tell Negan that you fucking kidnapped his fucking wife!” You said, your voice starting soft and raising to a scream with every word. Daryl simply shook his head as he rolled a bottle of water over to you.

“Sorry, (Y/N), I can’t do that.” He walked over to the door and pulled a key out of his pocket. You jumped up and tried to run toward him only to get stop by the steel wire that was wrapped around your waist.

“Let me the fuck out of here!” You screamed as he pushed the door open and let himself out. “He’s gunna fucking kill you, you stupid son of a bitch!” You felt your tear start to fall down your cheeks as the dead bolt slid shut and you fell to your knees and sobbed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Negan POV

As he sat in the passenger seat of the truck, staring out the window while he rolled a wild flower between his fingers behind his leg, Negan thought about the night before. He was glad he told you how he felt but he was pissed at himself. He never wanted to fall for a woman after Lucille and he was scared that letting you get as close as you were would throw him off his game, making him appear weak to his followers and possibly losing control of the empire he had built. He just couldn’t help himself.

He couldn’t get your beautiful face out of his mind; the way that one hair would stubbornly refuse to stay in your bun, falling across your cheek every so often. You would scrunch your nose slightly and brush it back to try to secure it in the bun once more but it continued to find its way out again. He couldn’t stop thinking about your (Y/E/C) eyes and the way they sparkled when he made you laugh; your perfect smile making them light up like stars twinkling in the night sky.

He shook his head slightly as he looked down at the flower in his fingers, forcing your face out of his mind. He decided that on the outside, nothing would change. He would keep his appearance as it was, the hardened, uncaring man the new world had made him become; only showing his emotions to you in the safe confines of his bedroom. He wondered briefly if he would be able to pull it off.

As the convoy pulled in to the gates of the Sanctuary, he put the little white flower in his pocket and all of his resolve to retain his persona vanished in an instant when he realized he was coming home to your smiling face again. As Simon dropped him off at the front of the dorm building like he always did, Negan grabbed Lucille and strolled into the building. He stopped in your room first, knocked quickly before peeking into the empty room. Finding it empty, he walked down the hall to look in on his other wives; more out of habit then want anymore. He spent a few minutes showering them with forced affection as he had done for months before you even came around before moving on to his room to see if you were in there.

He couldn’t stop the half mouth smirk that crossed his face when he saw your note and shirt lying on his pillow; the bed made perfectly the way a soldier would do it and he chuckled to himself as he unfolded the paper.

Negan,

If I’m not in my room or in the main room, I’m out in the gun range. Hope you had a good morning!

Xoxo

(Y/N)

He leaned Lucille between his bed and the little table where she usually rested and put the note in his pocket; hiding your t-shirt in the drawer of his nightstand before venturing out to find you. Arat caught him on the balcony and passed on Crystal’s message and he nodded and turned on his heel to head out to the gun range.

He opened the back door, squinting for only a moment to let his eyes adjust to the afternoon light when his foot kicked something on the ground. He looked down at the water bottle that had rolled into a puddle of blood next to the dead body of fat Joey. As he reached for his walkie-talkie, to figure out just what the fuck was going on, his eyes fell on the broken strap of your rifle and a smashed protein bar.

“Who’s down by the fucking gun range?” He called into his walkie as he grabbed your rifle strap from the ground before he stormed back inside to grab Lucille. A man answered him as he stomped down the hall and a door on his right that was cracked open caught his eye. “Is (Y/N) down there? I got a fucking job for her.” He said as he ripped the door to Daryl’s cell open. He growled at the empty room as the man from the gun range stated that he hadn’t seen you all day. Negan’s heart dropped as he put two and two together and before he could even tell his feet to do so, he was moving.

“Simon, get the fucking trucks back out and get the fucking crew ready. Dwight, your Goddamn charge is missing- get your fucking ass out front now.” He stormed into his room and grabbed Lucille and jogged to the front as rage fueled his movements. There was no way in hell he was going to lose another woman he cared about from his life. He kicked the door open and flew into the yard as directions started flying as he headed for the truck.

“Load the fuck up! My wife is fucking missing and so is fucking Daryl. Start with fucking Alexandria; I want that mother fucker ripped apart from top to fucking bottom, then fucking Hilltop. Gavin, get your ass to your fucking community and talk to that fucker; see if they’re there. Move!” He jumped into the driver seat of the truck hardly giving Simon time to jump in the passenger side and leaving the compound before the rest of his crew even had the chance to get into the other trucks.

“We’ll find her.” Simon said as Negan sped down the road. He glanced over at his second in command who nodded. “Yea, I know she’s different. I also know why she is. I ain’t saying shit and I know I’m the only one who sees it.” Negan looked back at the road and grit his teeth.

“Tell a fucking soul and it will be your fucking life.” He growled as he gripped the wheel tight. Simon shook his head.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, man.” Negan looked over at him once more and Simon met his gaze. The two men nodded at each other in silent understanding and as Negan looked back at the road, he was glad that he had befriended Simon in the first place.

Part 4

[aikafuwaa]

mafia/assassin au concept

Six Gravity

Mutsuki Hajime

⚫He controls the assets of the party when they do a mission. Usually, he just say the command and everyone will follow the order. ⚫A silent killer. ⚫Calm and charming, too. ⚫Everyone respects him and they don’t doubt him. He has a soft spot to his subordinates, that’s why when Koi got injured he kills without hesitation. ⚫(Is secretly cares for the other leader party.)

Yayoi Haru

⚫The strategist. ⚫His plans are always perfect. ⚫His motto is to serve the leader until the end and kills when something goes in their way. ⚫He will kill anyone if he has to, as long as it will benefit the party.

Uduki Arata

⚫Arata does the questioning with Aoi. ⚫He tortures people until they spill the beans. Usually, he is calm and expressionless but he can be angry too. Resulting a mild torture. ⚫He uses knives to kill. ⚫Is the childhood sweetheart of Aoi. ⚫Also, an open pervert like You.

Satsuki Aoi

⚫The gentle and refreshing person in the party. His smiles are bright that they think he’s a weakling. ⚫Is actually strong, but can be childish. ⚫A sniper. He shoots in deadly accuracy. Quite scary. ⚫He tends to be lonely, too, that’s why if he feels like that he can kill without leaving evidences. Something like an alternative person, but he isn’t really. ⚫Take cares of Arata all the time.

Shiwasu Kakeru

⚫The loud killer. He shouts in victory when he slays someone. ⚫Has a good combination with his partner, Koi. They can be unbeatable. ⚫They say he is unlucky, but, when he kills, karma goes itself to the target. ⚫Is good at acrobat and parkours.

Kisaragi Koi

⚫The lady killer. He usually goes in a socialize mission and pretends to be someone else. He has a good performance in acting. ⚫His weapon are guns. They think they are cooler than knives. (*cough* Arata) ⚫The heartbreaker. ⚫Likes his partner, Kakeru. They are good as a team. Sometimes are called as yandere.

Procellarum

[shirtlesssammy]

Simon Said: 2x05 Recap

Welcome to Hellatus 2017, guys! We’re recapping all of Ben Edlund’s awesome episodes this summer. Hopefully reminiscing about his fabulous episodes will distract us from the pain of losing Cas, Crowley, Rowena, and Eileen (who are we kidding. blerg.)

Then:

Baby Sam is a psychic.

Now:

On a quaint city street, an elderly man gets a phone call and see visions of himself unloading a shotgun. The man looks temporarily concerned, but soon has a relaxed face and walks into his local gun shop. The shop owner greets him as an old friend, but is surprised when “Doc” wants to look at a gun. He’s even more surprised when the doc loads the shotgun, shoots him, and then himself. Our poor Sammy had a psychic vision of this whole event.

On the road, Sam insists they head to the Roadhouse (awww) for Ash’s help, but Dean is reluctant. Dean calls Sam a freak (awwww). They eventually make it to the Roadhouse, Dean greets Jo, but Sam is on a mission to find Ash. Dr. Badass is chillin’ naked in his room. 

With the help of Ash, and Sam’s stellar artistic skills, they’re able to pinpoint the town to Guthrie, Oklahoma. No demon activity, so Sam has Ash research house fires in 1983.

Later that evening, Jo queues up REO Speedwagon on the jukebox. Dean takes notice. They briefly exchange pleasantries of hair vs. heart rock, before Jo asks about their mom’s death. Dean shuts her down. And admits to being afraid of Ellen (lolz).

Sam gets a match so the brothers head out. Not without Dean getting a serious REO Speedwagon earworm though. As Dean’s singing in the car, Sam questions Dean’s musical choices, and performing!Dean shuts it all down, asking Sam about what new information he has. Andrew Gallagher: Born in 1983, mom died in a house fire 6 months later.

The boys, dressed in their finest early years cheap suits, start to question a local waitress who worked with Andy. It seems that no matter how hard debt collectors tried, they didn’t get very far with information on Andy. Dean changes their story--they’re lawyers and Andy’s aunt left him a sizeable estate. Another friend of Andy’s sits down to fill the boys in on Andy’s amazing ability of persuasion. He once got them into an Aerosmith concert! The waitress lets them know if they need to find Andy, all they have to do is look for the van with the barbarian queen riding a polar bear. She’s kinda hard to miss.

(FUCKING STONEHENGE FROM SPINAL TAP? REALLY? YASSS.)

And no surprise to us season 12 folks, but Dean’s kinda into Andy’s whole aesthetic. Sam isn’t quite ready for real!Dean. He’s also concerned that they’ve found another weirdo like himself. What does it mean? Dean wonders, “So the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it?” Sam doesn’t disagree. Not really convincing himself, Dean calls bullshit. “You’re not a murderer, Sam. You don’t have it in your bones.” (Guh, what a parallel to Dean and Mary “you’re a killer” --Sam is a Men of Letters, he doesn’t have it in his bones, but he’s badass enough to bring it when it’s needed.)

For Science (but, like, serious science, because I’m pretty sure Jensen Ackles hasn’t aged a day in 10 years):

Just then Andy emerges, complete with scruff, silk kimono, and complete lack of any social grace, and somehow walks away with some dude’s coffee in hand. We soon see him interact with the doc from the cold open! Sam recognizes him right away. The brothers separate-- Sam with the older man and Dean with Andy.

With Dean in not so subtle pursuit, Andy pulls his van to the side of the road and classic dialog commences:

Andy: Hey

Dean: Hey

Andy: That’s a cherry ride

Dean: Yeah, thanks

Andy: Man, the '67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic.

Dean: Yeah. You know, I just rebuilt her, too.

Andy: Yeah?

Dean: Yeah, can't let a car like this one go.

Andy: Damn straight. Hey. Can I have it?

Dean: Sure, man.

Andy: Sweet.

Dean: Hop right in there. There ya go.

Andy: Take it easy.

Dean: All right.

Like, WTF, Dean?

At the same time Dean is losing his most prized possession, Sam is trying to stop the gun store shooting by getting to the gun shop before the doc, and pulling the fire alarm. Afterwards he happens to see Andy casually driving down the road in a ‘67 Chevy Impala. *Does not compute*

Just as Sam calls Dean about the stolen Impala, the doctor gets another call himself. This time he just walks right in front of A VERY FAST BUS.

Later, as the brothers watch the clean-up, Sam admits he thought he had stopped it. And Andy shows up at the restaurant, letting the waitress know that Doctor Jennings is dead. She tells him that some guys were around looking for him earlier that day.

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean locate Baby, much to Dean’s relief. The brothers surmise that Andy is verbally controlling people --Dean, and the doctor. Dean doesn’t think that Andy is guilty (OJ though? Guilty.)

The boys break into Andy’s van. And holy shit, “this is magnificent, that’s what this is.” Couldn’t say it better myself, Dean.

Later, during their stake-out Dean admits, “Ugh. You know, one day I'd love to just sit down and eat something I didn't have to microwave at a minimart.” Oh, Dean, you’ll have to wait 6 more years (and 40 years in Hell) before that dream happens. You’ll nest, I promise. Sam’s still wondering about Andy’s motive. Dean (WHO’S NEVER WRONG) still isn’t convinced. Just then Andy appears, wondering why they’re following him.  Sam starts with their lawyer cover when Andy demands they tell the truth. Sam sticks with their story but Dean is quick to admit that they hunt demons. Lolz. Dean just can’t shut up. Dean Bean. He spills EVERYTHING.

Andy demands that they leave him alone. Sam is immune to his persuasions though. Sam makes it clear that they have similar pasts --they’re connected. And just as Sam demands more information about the doctor, he gets another vision about a woman and a gas station. Andy denies knowing anything about the doctor’s death.

Sam collapses under the weight of the vision and when he comes out of it, he’s able to tell Dean about the cell phone call that triggers the victims to kill themselves or others. Dean leaves Sam watching Andy while he heads to the gas station. Not too long afterwards, Dean calls Sam from the station. The woman from Sam’s vision is already extra crispy and, as Dean notes, “the smell hasn’t even cleared.” (Shudder) Sam’s visions not only have zero chill, but they’re not giving them enough lead time anymore.

While Dean deals with the horrifying lingering smell of fried human Sam chills out with Andy and they exchange stories about their special mind powers. Andy loves his powers and never feels the need to use them to get a whole lot more out of life. He still lives happily in his Polar Queen van, after all. He’s got everything he needs to be happy. Dean pulls up then and lets them know that he had Ash run a background search on the dead woman. It turns out that Miss Extra Crispy gave birth to a kid in 1983. Since Andy was adopted, maybe she was actually his mother? They head to the county records department to learn more.

They review the birth records and discover that the woman was indeed Andy’s birth mother. The shotgun happy doctor delivered the baby. Or, we should say, BABIES. That’s right! On this extra special Doctor Phil, Andy learns that he has a twin brother. Andy sits back, astonished. “I have an evil twin.”

 Meanwhile, in evil twin land, Andy’s friend Ansem chats up Tracy the waitress, asking if she and Andy were ever serious about each other. He compels her to tell the truth. Aaaaand I’m already grossed out.

In the car, Sam suffers another vision. It’s Tracy standing at the edge of a dam and ready to jump. (She’s only wearing a slip so we get the implication of sexual assault preceding this suicidal leap. UGH)

Cut to Creepy McCreeperson, I mean Ansem, who is sitting in his car with Tracy out by the dam. It’s where he takes all the ladies. (Sexual assault no longer just implied.) She cries and begs to leave. He orders her to stop crying. “You can’t have him,” he tells her, referring to Andy. I don’t even know how to begin to rank the levels of creep in this scene.

The boys pull up nearby and prepare to go after Ansem. Sam suggests that Dean stay back and Dean readily agrees. Sam and Andy will take point.

Back at Ansem’s car, Evil Twin orders Tracy to undress - slowly. He tells her that when they’re done she should walk to the edge of the dam. When she gets there she’ll think she can fly and just step right off. Thankfully, Sam interrupts this dark instruction by breaking the driver’s side window and punching Ansem.

Andy helps Tracy out of the car while Sam wrestles Ansem under control and slaps some duct tape over his mouth. Great thinking! Only...Ansem mind controls Tracy anyway - with his mind - and she whacks Sam with a great big chunk of wood. While Andy and his twin scuffle, Tracy walks to the edge of the dam.

“She’s trying to come between us,” Ansem tells Andy by way of explanation. Aghast, Andy tells him that when you learn to have a twin you call them up and chill out. No murder! Bad twin!

Evil twin sheds some light on his evil-ness then, telling Andy that he dreams of a man with yellow eyes who promises him great things. What’s a little killing here or there when destiny calls?

A little ways away, hidden in the underbrush, Dean draws a sniper’s rifle up. (Me, rn → dead on the floor from attraction.) Unfortunately, Ansem hears him and Dean finds himself moving the rifle up to point the barrel at his own chin.

A gun fires.

Don’t worry guys, Andy saved the day! He shot his evil twin dead. Tracy gets off the ledge and Dean pulls away the gun.

The next morning Andy tells the cops investigating the crime scene that Ansem just shot himself and there’s nothing to investigate. He then wanders past a super freaked out Tracy and over to Sam and Dean. “I never used my mind thing on her before last night,” Andy says, “She’s scared of me now.”

Sam apologizes to Andy. The Winchesters have gotta split. But Sam gives Andy his phone number so he can call if he needs anything. Team Psychic Kids for life!

“What am I supposed to do now?” Andy asks.

“You be good, Andy,” Dean tells him. “Or we’ll be back.”

As the Winchesters head back to the car, Sam reflects on the outcome. Andy ended up killing someone; Andy became a killer. But Dean sees it differently. Andy was a hero who saved Dean’s and Tracy’s life. Still, Sam heard Dean’s little spate of honesty before and he’s not buying Dean’s line of total confidence.

The boys head back to The Roadhouse where they’re cornered by Ellen. She confronts them about information she got from Ash and notes the key details of the psychic kid cases: house fires at 6 months of age. All Ellen wants is the truth. “Something big and bad is coming and it’s coming fast.” They’ve got each other but they have to be honest. (I love you, Ellen.)

Sam tells Ellen all about the other psychic kids and how Yellow Eyes has plans for them. There could be tons of demon-blood-infected youth running around but finding them might be difficult. Not all kids suffered house fires at 6 months. For all those other psychic kids, there’s no way to trace them.

Ellen takes this all in and then says, “Jo, honey? You better break out the whiskey instead.”

The show closes with Soundgarden’s Fell on Black Days - which is super relevant to everyone mourning Chris Cornell right now.

We Full on Obi-Quoted This:

You’ve always been a freak.

He sings it from the hair. There’s a difference.

He full on Obi-Wan’ed me. It’s mind control, man.

And Moby Dick’s bong.

You still live in a van.

These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.

What are you, seven?