#like picture a conspiracy board with red string | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 11 months ago

Text

Not a Bad Holiday Season

Hey! I hope you had a great holiday season! I was wondering if you could write something sweet about Virgil and Logan after the secret Santa episode. No pressure ofc, Thank you you’re the best <3 – lapassemirrior

Read on Ao3

Pairings: none

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1225

“No, but that doesn’t work within the context of the other clues…”

Virgil smiles as he ambles down the hallway, listening to the soft mutterings on the other side of Logan’s door. From the sounds of it, Logan’s hardly stopped to breathe since he figured out that the newspaper wasn’t just a newspaper. He hesitates for a moment, just a moment, before knocking on the door.

“Come in?”

“Hey,” he says as he steps through, “wanted to check if you—whoa.”

He thinks he can be forgiven for truly coming to a dead stop when he sees the fucking conspiracy board Logan’s got where his whiteboard usually is. The original newspaper is still on his desk, the eye in the hurricane of notebooks, pens, and paper strewn about, but he’s made copies of certain parts and pinned them to a corkboard. Fucking hell, he’s even got bits of red string connecting picture to picture—if he didn’t know any better, he’d ask if Logan were working with Roman or Remus on some film noir idea.

“Virgil?”

He snaps himself out of it. “Sorry, I, uh, I guess I’m glad you’re having fun?”

Logan’s face splits into an almost manic grin—shit, maybe he really has been spending too much time with Remus. “This is incredible, Virgil, I can’t properly express my gratitude until I’ve completed your puzzle. I have to ask: did you do all of this truly by yourself?”

Virgil scratches the back of his head. “Eh. I may have gotten Princey to help with some of it.”

Logan frowns. “Roman?”

“Well, yeah, he is Creativity too. And he’s—okay, I’m not gonna spoil it ‘cause it’s his idea, but he has this thing he’s doing right now that’s gonna be really, really cool when he gets around to showing it off, so—“

He trails off when he sees Logan still frowning at his desk. He takes a step closer, nudging him with an elbow.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It really is nothing,” he says, “I suppose I’m surprised that Roman would be willing to…help you with such a thing.”

Virgil frowns. The irritation that Logan had expressed when he’d first looked at the newspaper, the almost resignation he’d had when he’d immediately moved on, it’s starting to show in his face right now.

“L,” he says, trying to get his attention, “why is it surprising?”

“Well,” Logan huffs, adjusting his tie, “you know.”

”I don’t. Can you tell me?”

“It’s Roman.”

“Yeah. Creativity. Making things. Doing stuff for us.”

“For you,” Logan corrects, still not meeting his gaze, “not necessarily for me.”

That’s funny. As Virgil remembers it, Roman had been hesitant to help him at all until he’d told him it was for Logan. Then he was practically climbing all over him to help out.

“But perhaps in the spirit of the holiday, then—“

“Logan.”

Logan stops. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Virgil lets him, waiting until he’s put his glasses back on and sat down. He leans against the edge of the desk and waits.

”That was unfair of me to say,” he mumbles, “wasn’t it?”

“Maybe a bit.”

“I…didn’t mean it to be spiteful.”

“You sure?”

“…maybe slightly.”

Virgil chuckles, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you and Princey have your moments.”

“But I have those with everyone,” Logan continues, staring off into space, “even—even with you. When I didn’t realize what your gift was at first, I…”

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs when Logan’s breath hitches just a bit too much for his liking, “you’re okay. It’s—look, the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, it’s not fair of me to hold it against you.”

“Thank you.”

“And, uh, I think any ARG that loudly screams hey, look at me, I’m a big fucking puzzle kinda fails at being an entertaining ARG—“ Logan snorts— “so I don’t blame you for taking a second to get it either.”

Logan hums, leaning against Virgil’s side. His glasses squish slightly into his ribs and he turns to fix it. “You’re right.”

“And hey, you really look like you’re enjoying it.” He gestures to the board. “You got your red string out and everything.”

“Well, I realized that I could take notes on my computer or in the notebook, but…” He can hear the moment the smile curls up his face. “I decided I might as well have fun with it.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“Thank you,” he says, softer now, turning to look up at him, “I really do like the present.”

Virgil chuckles. “I got that. Glad you’re having fun. What part are you at?”

“Part?”

“How much of it have you solved already?”

“I’ve just gotten to the QR code you managed to hide inside the picture—how did you do that, by the way? No, no—“ Logan holds up a hand as Virgil starts to explain— “don’t tell me just yet, I’ll make a list to ask you once I’ve finished everything.”

Virgil just grins and holds up his hands, stepping back as he watches Logan get up and start working on something again. He wanders over to the board after a moment, looking at all the pieces. Shit, he knew Logan would be good at this, but Janus would pop up if he said he’s a little disappointed that some of the puzzles didn’t take him longer.

Though, he notices with a grin, it doesn’t look like Logan’s cracked the big one yet. That’ll be something to look forward too.

“But enough about that,” Logan says, “did you come here for anything specific?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Pat and Princey are making a fucking feast for dinner and they’ve asked the rest of us to put together a movie marathon. If you, uh, if you’re willing to step away for a sec?”

“Certainly. Give me one moment…” Logan scribbles something else down on the piece of paper and pins it to the board—damnit, he got that one too, he really is good at this, maybe he should’ve made it harder— “there. Alright, what is everyone thinking? There are a few generic thrillers that have come out recently, Remus was talking about a disaster movie—“

“Wait, they made another one?”

Logan rolls his eyes as they head out to the hall. “It’s quite a profitable genre, despite the rampant suspension of disbelief that’s necessary for full immersion, so yes, I’m sure they did.”

“I don’t know about you, but I think not having to think too much sounds like a good thing.”

Logan chuckles. “Yes, well, you’ve been kind enough to give me quite the puzzle to keep me entertained for a while.”

“I really am glad you like it, L.”

“May I be honest?” Virgil nods and Logan glances around, leaning a bit closer. “Even if it had just been a newspaper, I still would have appreciated it as it came from you.”

Well. Shit. Now he’s blushing. And Logan’s looking at him like that and yep, they’re going to find the others right now.

All in all, not such a bad holiday season.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #fic

58 notes · View notes

charlietheepicwriter7 · 1 year ago

Text

A very merry Christmas to you, @2-depressed-4-u . It is I, your secret santa from @mlsecretsanta . I have had a wonderful time talking to you this year (even if I wasn't supposed to, oops), and hope you have a wonderful holiday.

And now, without further ado, your present.

I Don't Need Sleep, I Need Answers

If his father could see his room at that moment, Adrien was sure the man would faint with shock. Fortunately, Gabriel Agreste was needed in China to investigate one of his companies’ main manufacturers, so Adrien was in the clear… for now.

His room looked like his couch was almost pushed up against one wall, but he’d left a foot of space between it and the wall so he had full access to his masterpiece. Along the north-facing wall was a chaotic conspiracy board, with red string threading from picture to picture. Some of his pieces of evidence were printed out from his computer, like the article about Marinette designing for Jagged Stone or the picture of Ladybug kissing him from back during the Oblivo incident. Others were hand drawn to the best of his ability if he couldn’t find an appropriate image online.

But in the end, all the pictures led back to a center image: his limited edition poster of Ladybug.

Plagg hovered near one of the most important pieces of evidence, the feathered bolo hat Marinette had made. “Hey, kid… when’s the last time you got any sleep?” he asked, his eyes flickering between Adrien and his evidence wall.

“I don’t need any sleep,” Adrien spat, climbing over and onto the back of the couch so he could connect some string between a picture of Marinette and badly-drawn recreation of Multimouse. On the hand drawn page, he wrote no earrings????, with multiple question marks going off the page and onto the wall. “I need answers.”

“I thought you’d decided that you weren’t going to look for Ladybug’s identity anymore?”

The boy scoffed. “I thought so too, but you didn’t see what I saw! During that last akuma battle, Ladybug left, and then… Marinette was there! She always hides during akuma battles, she wouldn’t just run around during one, unless…” He pinned another picture to the wall, wrinkling the paper with his force. “She was Ladybug.”

Plagg sighed. “Or she was trapped in the area and took it as her chance to run. Or she was hiding but someone was in danger, so she rushed out to help. Or some other reason why she’d risk her life. Why don’t you just ask her, kid?”

“Because if she’s Ladybug, she’d just lie!” Adrien explained. “I know how this works, Plagg; we’re not supposed to know each other’s identities. Ladybug sticks to that rule better than me… and no matter how good of a person she is, or how much Marinette hates liars, she’d still be willing to lie to protect herself.”

“If she’s lying to protect herself, then wouldn’t she be safer if you didn’t discover who she is? If you stopped your investigation now, before someone gets hurt?”

Adrien shook his head, picking up another picture of Ladybug. “You don’t understand, Plagg. She shouldn’t have to look out for herself. I should be the one to do it for her.”

I Don't Need Sleep, I Need Answers

Adrien’s plan started the next day at school.

Keeping an eye on Marinette proved impossible when she sat directly behind him, but he kept a keen ear on her and Alya’s conversation. While he didn’t think his Lady would be so blasé to discuss her superheroine life where anyone could hear her, he was expecting at least some reference. Alya was her best friend after all; he’d certainly let things slip to Nino throughout his months as Chat Noir.

But no. There was nothing. When not distracted by classwork, all they talked about was the Ladyblog, and Marinette’s new commissions for Kitty Selection. So, it was onto plan B.

When Plagg was trying to talk him out of this—and really, wasn’t that evidence unto itself, that Plagg was trying to talk him out of investigating—he’d said that Adrien reminded him of Alya. Reminded him that Alya had once done the same thing to Chloe, and gotten akumatized for it. But Adrien wouldn’t get akumatized! For one thing, Marinette was in no way like Chloe. For another, Adrien, and Alya back then, had direct evidence that Chloe wasn’t Ladybug, since Chloe was often seen with or around Ladybug.

Outside of the Multimouse incident, had Adrien ever seen Ladybug save or even talk to Marinette?

No.

But Plagg’s words had reminded him that he wasn’t the only person who’d ever searched for Ladybug’s identity. And his best ally sat behind him and to the left.

Adrien pulled Alya to the side during lunch, with Marinette watching curiously and Nino shaking his head in amusement before engaging Marinette in a conversation. Adrien knew he could count on him. And when he found an abandoned classroom to talk to Alya, he swallowed and began to explain.

She’d looked nervous, when he began, but as he kept explaining all his evidence as to why Marinette could be Ladybug, a thoughtful expression bloomed on her face. But that didn’t mean she automatically believed him. And then she asked a damnable question. “What about Lila?”

Ah. He’d forgotten about Lila.

He preferred to forget about her rather than think about—

Alya continued. “Because she and Ladybug are best friends, you know? But I’m pretty sure Marinette hates Lila. Not that she’d ever say she hates Lila, but she refuses to go to girl’s day when Lila is invited, and she leaves sleep-overs early when she’s there, but Lila has no idea why—”

Oh, Adrien had a good idea why. And it was the same reason why Adrien had convinced his father to only allow single or boys-only shoots for him this spring, that it was more fashionable that way.

“Maybe it’s a ruse?” He offered instead. “Maybe Marinette’s only pretending to dislike Lila so she doesn’t find out her identity? It’s not like Lila has ever said she knew Ladybug’s identity.”

“Well, she did imply it once…” When did that happen!? Adrien might be mostly ignoring Lila at this point, but how did he miss that? “But she backtracked when I asked some more questions, so I think she only suspects she knows who Ladybug is. But if Marinette is Ladybug, then we could talk to her and she doesn’t have to pretend to hate Lila anymore!”

Alya gave a blinding smile. Adrien didn’t have the heart to tell her that Marinette definitely would not change her opinion of Lila if they discovered her identity.

In fact, she might yell at them both.

I Don't Need Sleep, I Need Answers

With Alya on board to stalk Marinette for all the wrong reasons, Adrien had started to feel a little more secure in his plan to discover Ladybug’s identity. For the rest of lunch and the remainder of class, Alya used some leading questions on Marinette to try and get any information, but she was like a steel wall. Alya had even thought up a cool audience participation event where Ladyblog would post everyone’s fan heroes that sounded really interesting.

(Marinette said she’d want to be a black cat hero! She was so cute—)

But there was nothing that pointed towards Marinette being Ladybug. After school, once Alya had begged off girl squad duties and Adrien had lied about an extra long fencing meeting, the two met up to stalk Marinette.

First, she spent a few hours at Eiffel Tower, designing. Then, she spent an hour in a fabric store, picking out a few yards of champagne fabric, all of which looked the same to Adrien’s discerning eye, but were clearly different to her. And finally, she met her parents at a local Italian bistro for dinner. And despite spending their entire afternoon stalking her, they’d learned nothing.

Nothing except the fact that Marinette had an adorable habit of talking to herself when she was alone, but that wasn’t strictly evidence.

Alya sat back on the bench, pulling her disguise hat down to cover her eyes. Marinette and her family were clearly visible from the restaurant window. “Maybe she isn’t Ladybug?” Alya asked. “I mean, Ladybug usually patrols in the afternoon, and she hasn’t left our sight all day!”

That was more because Adrien had offered to talk Ladybug’s afternoon patrol that day, but Alya didn’t need to know that. He hiked the newspaper with holes cut out for eyes higher onto his face. “She could be having an off day?”

“No. Adrien, what was your real reason for—”

Suddenly, the ground shook and people screamed as an akuma, eye-screaming pink and cackling at the top of his lungs, whipped past. They shot to their feet. Alya begged off to chase after the akuma and Adrien let her, his eyes glued to the window. Her family was still there, but Marinette was gone. Was she in the restroom? Or…

“Adrien, what are you doing?”

“I’m just going to check,” he told his kwami, running to the backside of the bistro. If Marinette was Ladybug, she’d have to escape out the back, right?

“There’s an akuma! Come on, you have to—”

“I just need to check!” He scolded. He was almost there!”

“Damn it, kid!” Adrien froze. Was Plagg… mad at him? Plagg was never mad at him! “This has gone on long enough! Is your love life really worth other people’s lives!?”

No. No it wasn’t. And Ladybug would hate him if he even considered for a second skipping out on a battle just to look for her identity.

Really, there was only one choice left.

“Plagg, claws out.”

“Finally!”

He’d have to try again another day. Think of a new plan of attack. But for now, he was Chat Noir. And Chat Noir had a fight to win.

I Don't Need Sleep, I Need Answers

The next day, Plagg immediately wriggled his way into Marinette’s purse, where Tikki sat, contently eating a chocolate-chip cookie.

“Sugar Cube, you’ve got to make sure your user is more careful,” he said, rubbing his head with his paws. “Adrien almost found out her identity!”

“What!?”

#miraculous ladybug #ml secret santa #lila salt #adrienette #ladrien #c: adrien agreste #c: marinette dupain-cheng #c: alya cesaire #c: lila rossi #c: nino laffiate #c: plagg #ml salt #merry christmas!!

66 notes · View notes

cowboy-kidd · 3 days ago

Text

peter parker (marvel) hc’s ⋆˙⟡

x - x - x

—DNI NSFW—

⋅ keeps a backpack full of your things on him - your favorite character coloring book, plethoras of coloring pencils and crayons and markers, a paci, the juice of your pick, anything you need and he’s pulling it out of that red bag he carries on his at all times

⋅ likes holding your hand or having you on his front when he’s swinging through nyc. he knows it’s less than safe or ideal but it’s the best form of transportation and you seem to enjoy it enough…he swears you’re just as much an adrenaline junkie as he is

⋅ nyc winters are cold so he likes to kit you out in a nice cute sweater he picked out specifically for you while out thrifting (he does it just very rarely, mj most likely urged him into it) and hat and some cute mittens

⋅ takes you out late on nights when it’s tough to sleep…you guys just sit outside on a tall roof enjoying the cold wind and maybe some snacks he’s brought along the way. He makes sure the spot is safe and warm in case you do get too cold but don’t want to go back home. you could text him that you’ve been having a rough day and he’s just there within a blink of an eye

⋅ not particularly good at humming but he knows being vocal is important to you so he’ll probably sing some sort of song you know while holding you close to his chest

⋅ always there with reassurance. even if you don’t ask for it and especially when you do. tells you he loves you every chance he gets, that you’re valuable and that he wouldn’t trade you for the world. that you’re the most important person in his life and that he wouldn’t leave you on your own if he could help it

⋅ let’s mj babysit you. you guys get along very well. probably watch some weird conspiracy theories together on youtube. you guys put up boards with red pins and yarn and have silly “aha!” moments. she’s the only one who will gush over you about twilight and probably throws popcorn at the tv and yells at how stupid the main characters are. you fall asleep easiest around her apart from when you’re with pete.

⋅ She takes you on late night drives and teaches you and pete how to care for your hair. she’ll put it in any style she credibly knows how to do

⋅ both will read you books at night. let you see the pictures when you reach for it after being tucked in. peter specifically kisses you on the forehead after tucking you in, but he doesn’t leave until he knows you're fast asleep.

⋅ peter regularly bumps shoulders with you when your walking or sitting beside him. just a small little lean into your side and a quick pull back so that you don’t forget he’s there.

⋅ apart from thrifting be really really likes dressing you in his merch or his clothes. he’ll put you in a sweater and some of his jeans and tie them with some shoe strings and be like “see! it’s perfect!” and then he’ll bump mj’s shoulder and she’ll just sigh and wave him off with a murmur that he’s horrible at dressing you.

⋅ takes polaroid pictures of you. a lot. and probably has a journal just dedicated to you that he flicks through every now and then when he’s on a mission and hasn’t seen you in a while. Stark definitely teases him about it. “c’mon kid you call him like what? every day. you cannot realistically miss him this much.” but peter just folds his arms with a defiant look on his face and stark ends up apologizing a couple hours later cuz he’s just built like that

⋅ said polaroid pictures he shows off to everyone within a 50 foot vicinity, especially if it’s a new one. he just melts over you he can’t help it.

⋅ regularly drops in on you as like a surprise, brings you souvenirs from wherever he’s been and says that mr. Stark said hi n that he wants to meet you (he does. you’re too shy and strangely good at being avoidant.)

⋅ you’re always reading some sort of comic of some sort of superhero or another so he makes you you’re own, one of him and you and spin offs of different adventures with you and mj or you and ned

⋅ ned and you and peter and mj probably have weekly outings where you go and watch movies or play video games or something. just anything in between all the bad things that peter sees on an almost daily basis because of his job description. anything to spend time with his friends and you

⋅ really all of you guys act as his anchor. so much bad in the world makes it difficult to see the good and the readily improving. when pete just wants to see the bad in the world or when he starts panicking over a mission gone awry you’re always there or ned is always there or mj is always there to just help him chill out and think without going overboard and being overwhelmed

⋅ It's one of the main reasons why he likes taking care of you. The autonomy he gets with having to help you makes him feel like he’s doing some sort of good in a world so full of bad. It’s comforting in a way to have you fall asleep in his arms, knowing you're safe and protected because he’s here.

#no i’m not elaborating on which parker cuz idk i feel like that’s a little embarrassing:p #u can prolly guess tho idk...#🧃; scribblescrabbles #fandom agere #agere fandom #marvel agere #sfw age regression #it feels weird posting this idk #🖇️ ; paperclips

14 notes · View notes

corporatefrog · 2 years ago

Text

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 15; red string of CONSPIRACY

✧.* featuring yn opening up to Kyle about their recent theories : ̗̀➛ notes - I always get nervous when I post written out parts (esp when it's a smau) but I felt like this needed to be in person for the effect. The next part will be mainly written too so get ready! tags - college au, superhero au, smau

series masterlist previous | next

It’s got to make sense. It HAS to make sense. If it doesn’t make sense I’ve spent the past week thinking about it and that’s a week wasted that I could’ve used to do something else or literally anything.

My vision blurred as I stared at the cork board, eyes tracing the same track of red yarn from picture to news article to picture to news article to picture-

It was a vicious cycle that had trapped me for what felt like hours but could’ve been minutes. Or days. Time came and went in no consistent interval. I woke up, went to class, came home and stared at this board until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

I hadn’t made a video in a few weeks and I’d postponed the interview I had scheduled with Fast Pass with no new date set. Another lost opportunity because I couldn’t get my shit together. This is all I had right now. So I had to be right. Even if the theory made me sound like I’d never had a critical thought in my life.

Which it does. Kyle didn’t even respond after you told him. That means no one believes you. It means your theory doesn’t make sense. This is BUTTERS we’re talking about.

Yeah but if it’s wrong, that means those people are right. Even if they’re just spreading hate on the internet to make themselves feel better, they have lives nonetheless. If I assisted someone who’s actively ruining people’s lives, does that make me just as bad as him?

I shake the thoughts away. I’m not a bad person. I may make questionable choices but what college student doesn’t? It’s a part of growing up. So I have to be right about this. But what does that mean moving forward? What do I do knowing one of my best friends is a super villain?

A stinging feeling begins behind my eyes as I feel the familiar pressure across the bridge of my nose that always happens before I start crying.

Why can’t I figure this out? Why can’t I let this go? Why am I stuck-

A knock at the door startles me from my concentration. My head whips to the door as though it would open on its own to reveal who interrupted my time of focus.

“Yn? Hello?” Kyle’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Oh fuck.

I looked back to the cork board which took up the majority of my living room.

Why did I buy this again? I wondered, realizing how much space the board actually took up. The once tidy living room had become cluttered with empty coffee cups and takeout containers littered over the coffee table, end tables, and ground. Bits of red yarn sat on the ground from cut up scraps. Other lengths that had connected discarded evidence sat in a pile on a stool, waiting for the chance to be connected to the ever expanding web once again.

“Are you in there?” Kyle’s voice rang through the apartment again.

I can’t let him in here! He’s going to think I’m some hermit conspiracy theorist!

…Well I kind of am a conspiracy theorist.

Deciding to ignore that realization, I lunged for the nearest piece of trash (a 3 day old Chipotle bowl that I just kept forgetting to walk the 3 feet to the kitchen trash) and tossed it into the garbage can. Speed cleaning the apartment lifted a weight from my shoulders, making the small living room feel less claustrophobic.

Wow, I feel better already. Maybe I should open the blind and run a vacuum through real quick- KYLE!

I spun and walked toward the door, fixing my appearance in the 10 second walk to the door to the best of my ability. Even if I’ve been stuck in my apartment for a week and a half, I didn’t want to look like it.

Unlocking the door, I put on my best “I’m totally fine and mentally stable!” face.

“Hey, kyle!”

If I looked bad, Kyle somehow looked worse. The usually maintained curls frizzed into a blur atop his head and his shirt was clearly on backwards with a Fruit of the Loom logo showing proudly at the base of his neck. His eyes darted around the hallway and into my apartment through the sliver he could see through the cracked door.

The fuck is up with him?

I think while also wearing a shirt backwards after throwing away a week’s worth of take out food and diluted iced coffee as though I was any better off.

That’s not what we’re focusing on right now. I’m perfectly stable, duh.

“You good?” I asked, leaning against the door frame to keep him from seeing my conspiracy board.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one that texted me an essay about your theories then called yourself an asshole.”

“Oh those?” I forced out a laugh, waving a hand to brush off the concerns, “Those were just joke, duh! You took those seriously?”

“They sounded pretty serious to me.” Kyle sighed, running a hand through his ragged hair in a way that somehow didn’t catch his fingers in the mess of curls, “Can I come in? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

My eyes darted back into the apartment. The giant cork board stuck out like a neon sign saying “A MENTALLY ILL PERSON LIVES HERE!” I couldn’t let someone see me like this. Texting Kyle in the first place was a mistake. He’ll think I’m not thinking clearly, that I’m not someone to be trusted. The work I put into being reliable yn who’s always there to be a person you can lean on will be ruined. No one will ever trust me again.

But don’t you want someone else to know? Just knowing that someone else sees your stress instead of shoving it down until it spills over?

The thought alone of telling someone about these thoughts, of sharing the burden I’d created for myself, cleared the clouds fogging my mind. He can be someone who will listen. He can be a witness so I’m not the only one who knows that I’m struggling.

I stepped back, pulling the door open so Kyle could step through.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” I started, hoping to mediate the embarrassment of letting someone into my stress lair.

Kyle shook his head as a small smile tugged at his lips, “It’s no problem, if you’ve ever seen stan’s room-” His sentence died out as he noticed the cork board. You know, the giant one covering my living room wall filled with pictures and newspaper clipping connected by red yarn.

“Oh.” Was all he said.

I shut the door behind him. Kyle jumped slightly at the sound, turning his gaze to follow me as I walked. He doesn’t say a word. Only staring at the cork board, the remains of trash I’d missed on my quick clean, and my own disheveled appearance.

Might as well address the elephant in the room.

“Do you want to talk about the cork board?” I asked, continuing before he had a chance to reply, “Let's talk about the cork board because I’ve been dying to talk about this cork board all day.” Walking up to the board, I pointed to the center where two photos sat: one of the supervillain Professor Chaos and the other of elementary education major Butters Stotch.

“Professor Chaos. His name keeps coming up over and over again. Everyday Call Girl is sending out alerts about this guy,” I move my hand to point at different tweets I’d printed out and pinned to the board, “Professor Chaos takes hostages in a McDonalds Play Place for a birthday party. Professor Chaos attempts to sign himself as the mayor of South Park using a fake charity petition. Professor Chaos hijacks the news station to declare the weather today ‘a 100% chance of Chaos’. This entire corner is just tweets about Professor Chaos!”

Kyle sits down on the couch without a word, eyes still following my every move. I start pacing across the living room.

Why isn’t he saying anything? Is it because he doesn’t believe me?

“So I start to look closer at his actions, his way of speaking, everything that makes Professor Chaos who he is. But it’s around this same time that I start to text a certain person more because we have a philosophy class together.” I return to the board and point to screenshots of text messages.

“Here Butters talks about getting grounded for eating two cookies and here Professor Chaos talks about being grounded for wearing his villain outfit then got grounded for trying to get ungrounded.” I look between the cork board and Kyle, trying to justify my hypothesis with the urgency in my voice, “No one gets grounded as much as Butters. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that!”

“But that’s not even the smoking gun!” I exclaimed, pointing to another corner of the board, “Last week, Butters missed our philosophy class- which he has never done- and when I texted him, he said he was at a showing of Frozen on Ice with his mom in Denver. But when you look at the schedule for Frozen on Ice,” I pause for effect, “they don’t start shows for this season in Denver until next month. Right day, wrong month.”

“But guess what was going on last week? Professor Chaos attacks main street and is tackled by Super Craig. Landing him with another defeat and some pretty gnarly bruises to boot. The kind of bruises you’d need to miss class to cover up.” I finished with a sigh, glad to finally tell someone the monologue that had been racing through my head for the past week.

I brace myself for Kyle’s response. His eyes are locked onto the cork board and my scribbled sticky notes shouting various exclamations of discovery and panic. With a deep breath, he levels his gaze on me.

What is he thinking? Is he trying to find a nice way to say I’ve lost it? Have I lost it?

“Yn-” He begins but I cut him off.

“I know it sounds crazy, okay? I know it sounds like I’m reaching by claiming the only truly nice person I know is the town’s resident fucking super villain-”

“You’re right.”

Kyle’s response blasts through my clouded mind. I physically take a step back as my face morphs from frantic stress to confusion.

“What did you just say?” I ask, shoulders remaining tense as a hand twists into the fabric of my shirt. Kyle sighs, looking away and muttering something to himself. He raises a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes before looking back at me.

“You’re right about Professor Chaos.”

The words I hoped to hear, the words I thought would finally take the weight off my shoulders and release the stress that had gripped my nerves, only intensified the panic in my mind.

“You mean you believe me, right?” I started slowly, trying to clarify the simple language mistake Kyle made.

“No, I mean you’re right.”

Before my mind could begin to wrap around the first revelation, Kyle continued speaking.

“I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed to. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. But I know someone who can, or at least someone who has permission.”

I began shifting my weight from foot to foot, holding back the urge to begin pacing again as I ran a hand through my hair.

“You know how cryptic you’re being right now, right?” I said.

“Yeah I know.” Kyle's leg began to bounce as his own nerves began to peak through, “I’m walking a very thin line and I’m trying not to get us both into major trouble.” He looked up to me, trying to communicate a message I couldn’t understand.

“With who?”

“Someone with a lot more authority than me. Someone who can explain things more if you come with me.” Kyle urged.

What does that even mean? Let’s not forget that he said we were right. How does he know that? Why does he know that?

My thoughts fought against each other to be the one addressed first but with so many questions, it felt impossible to single out one from the mass. Everything was happening so fast. Everything changed so fast. When did the mood of the room become so urgent? Did it always feel like this?

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to pause the thoughts. Nothing is going to get done at this rate. So I need to take the first step forward.

“Okay… yeah.”I started slowly. Kyle nodded and began to stand but I held up a hand for him to wait, “But only if you promise we can get ice cream afterwards.”

Kyle looked at me with an exasperated expression, “Are you seriously using this to get free ice cream?”

This is what he’s surprised by?

I raised my eyebrow at him and pointed to the chaotic corkboard, “You just told me my batshit conspiracy theory was right and now you want me to follow you to an unknown location to talk to an unknown person. Fuck yes I want free ice cream.”

Kyle considered the cork board for a moment before sighing.

“Fine. We’ll get ice cream.”

I muttered a quick “Fuck yeah.” to myself in celebration before looking back at Kyle,

“Okay I’ll get my coat.”

I grabbed my jacket and followed Kyle out the door, not nervous about where I’d be going, but scared that I wouldn’t like what I found.

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc

#im begging for someone to understand the pepe silvia references #i even copied a bit of the structure from charlie's monologue in the episode #welcome back to the channel #south park smau #south park x reader #south park #corporatefrog #tfbw #the fractured but whole

77 notes · View notes

shaakyhaands · 1 year ago

Text

Hear Me Out:

Court of Darkness but MC is an investigative journalist.

Do we ever really get any details on what MC did on Earth?

Like no, deadass— we know she had an apartment and Robin. How is she paying rent? How is she buying cat food, or paying Robin’s vet bills?

I’m willing to bet the devs intentionally didn’t give us much detail about MC’s occupation, specifically so we the reader can ✨ project ✨ onto her.

That being said: let’s make up some occupations for her!

I think an investigative MC would be fun! She’s in a whole new dimension, there’s a ton to explore. Reality itself behaves differently, allowing magic! There’s an entire history of this world’s inhabitants! Wars, art, culture, food, philosophy, sciences, MAGIC! This would be fucking paradise for an exploratory personality.

Some headcanons:

MC always has questions. About everything. From the tangible and quantitative (“what is this?”) to the conceptual and abstract (“interesting. You seem to feel very strongly on this subject, am I reading that right? Can you tell me more? What influenced your judgement?”).

When she’s not peppering one of the consorts with questions about life in this world, she’s reading. What is she reading? Everything. Everything she can get her hands on. Especially books on history.

Speaking of reading and asking questions— MC bonds with Toa in her pursuits of knowledge. He helps her learn how to read and write (language barriers). While Guy, a man of action more than words, might get tired of MC’s incessant questions (and I really mean incessant, this isn’t shade at Guy. This MC is straight up annoying, never shuts up)— Toa has more patience.

Speaking of history— she studies historical events and the relationships between the kingdoms. Important players on the world stage, what they did, who they were cool with and who they pissed off and why. Why, why, why, MC is very interested in learning why things are the way they are.

So much so, she looks into events deeper than most native inhabitants would probably have any reason to. She wants to find the information not in the history books. She wants to know what actually happened— who pulled what strings, who is connected to who else and how did those connections play out, etc.

Through her research, MC learns about a lot of royals before they’re otherwise introduced. Not only does she learn of their existence (“Toa has a sister? Toa has three sisters? 👀”), but she, through the lens of various historical accounts (that she certainly cross referenced with each other), learns of their character. What they’ve done. And, reading between the lines, what some books failed to explain or navigated around, she’s able to get a better sense of their real personalities.

For example: Reading several accounts of her behaviour, if MC is piecing together the information correctly, than the picture her research is painting of Idina is a very, very cold one. Thinking about the implications makes MC shiver. To think this woman is related to Toa, it actually make too much sense.

Speaking of her research: MC definitely has the magical equivalent of a conspiracy theory pin board in her bedroom— one mapping out the connections between the kingdoms and powerful individuals.

This ^ This, but it’s MC, and the red string is connecting Idina to several assassinations untimely, very unfortunate and super totally accidental deaths of government officials. Toa is the person in the foreground.

“Okay, but why” you might be inclined to ask. “Why is MC asking all these questions, what’s the point”

The point is, she is an investigative journalist. So far, I’ve really emphasized the “investigative” part. But, my sweet summer child, there’s an entire second half of that title.

The point being, MC is recording all of the information she’s gathering.

The history, the art, the culture, the sciences, the magic— all of it. All of it, she is making an immaculate record of. How, you might ask? Well, you have some options:

Personally, I’m a huge fan of MCs who got transported with some of their earthly tech on their person. I have more than once gotten home and straight up passed out after a long day, still holding onto or wearing my daily gear. Let me put it this way: if they were able to bring her god damn cat with her, I see no reason why MC couldn’t bring, say, a backpack with her. Maybe a satchel, or a crossbody bag. If it was on or near her person when she fell asleep, I can imagine it getting caught up in the process.

Say this MC did have her bag with her. That means she has a myriad of technology potentially at her disposal. Laptop, tablet, camera. If you really want to lean into the “investigative reporter” side of things, she could even have an old school hand held tape recorder. At the very least, she definitely has a phone.

“Tech would die, though, how is she going to charge it” magic, babe. Via Roy’s consort path, we learned that inhabitants of the magical realm make magical weapons out of silversmithing. The reason Roy gives is that silver is a good conductor of electricity and magical energy:

(Please ignore the shit image quality, YouTube is being mean)

My point being, you understand the implications of this statement? People in Salagia know what electricity is. At least, on some level. So if MC just made one friend out of the S ranks, or Sherry, I’m sure they could come up with some way to keep any of MC’s earthly electronics permanently charged.

Outside of tech— remember how MC has to pretty much learn how to read and write? Because the Salagian language, it’s not English. In the American server, it’s hinted that the Salagain language is some derivative of Latin, and magic helps translate speech between MC and everyone else. In Toa’s path, MC can sort of read? But it’s not like speaking, and she pretty much has to relearn from the ground up (Warning: mild spoilers for Toa’s route, maybe?):

Point being: if MC can’t really read Salagian writing, then I doubt Salagians can read anything in MC’s native language (be that English, Japanese, or anything else).

So, theoretically speaking, MC could just write in her native language and no one would really be able to tell wtf she’s writing. Whose gonna teach them, her? Not if she doesn’t want them to know, she won’t.

So, to recap:

Our little investigative journalist MC is given the scoop of a fucking lifetime, being transported to a different universe.

With her tech, raw determination, and the help of some new friends, she gathers intel and writes up reports— be that literally writing, recording speech, or making video essays.

Photos, videos, any documentation she can make, she does.

The knowledge she gains enables her to move through this new world with a bit more discretion. She’s better able to navigate social settings (“everyone with blue eyes seems to hate me?… Oh yeah, the red, Avari, got it. I’ll just be cool, then”), and potentially avoid shady characters (“note to self: avoid Idina. Also, Toa needs therapy.”)

Maybe she discovers some cults earlier than she would otherwise?? 👀

And if/when she eventually gets back home, even if it’s just to visit friends, but not actually stay there— she will have the most epic story of all time. With supporting documents.

Other fun headcanons:

If this MC does pair up with a consort, everyone is like “… bro, your girl… she never stops asking questions” and her paramour is just like “fuck yeah, she doesn’t 😍”

“What are you writing” “a list of workers rights violations, I can’t believe unions are a foreign concept in this world.”

If an animal/creature shows up, MC is the first to jump to its defense. “It’s a siren!” “She’s part of an endangered species, you cretin!” “She can kill you! Aren’t you scared??” “So could tripping and falling over. Bottom line is, I’m not going to let you hurt her!”

“Do you not have kings in your world?” “I mean, they exist, but let me tell you about 1789 France…” *cue the radicalization of the S ranks*

Say a king shows up to the school for an event, oh BOY will she have Words. Not only would she ask a shit ton of questions, she will also have no fucking fear, because she has no respect for their title. “I read about this policy decision, what was this experience like for you?” Whatever prince is the associated son of the king is like “MC, please, I’m so scared for you, don’t incur his wrath”, while the king is just like “you know?… this person?.. this person is bold. To talk to me like this, the blatant lack of idol worship, almost bordering on disrespect, even… this is Different. New. Fun. I almost feel like a normal person, even.” And so, the king engages with all of her questions, much to their son’s potential dismay.

Anyways— god it feels good to get this enormous idea out of my brain and on a digital page. The Thought has been Purged, I am now free. Been a hot minute since I did some long form theorizing for CODVN, feels nice man. 😁

#court of darkness #codvn #toa qelsum #im back on my bullshit

43 notes · View notes

emberfrostlovesloki · 9 months ago

Text

Criminal Minds May Prompts - Walking Down Memory Lane

Photo credits: Left (@hotchs-big-hands) Center (@edwardian-masquerade) Right (@reidcoffeemoon)

Good evening loves! We made it to April! Here are some more Spring Prompts for May. This prompt list is inspired by the always amazing, @imagining-in-the-margins, who always make the best prompt lists. Her current prompt list can be found here (linked). I won’t write for all of my prompts, but I might for a few. I decided to go with a theme for these May prompts and it is - Walking Down Memory Lane. So this will deal with remembering the past. Not all of these prompts will fall into this category, but most of them are.

The rules for using these prompts are that there are no rules! You could use any Criminal Minds characters, OCs, reader inserts, etc. You could draw, write, make mood boards, or imagine anything else. I have included 30 prompts for each day of the month. I also get inspiration from plain old words, so I’ve included 10 Spring words that might inspire something. Lastly, I’ve included a few dialog and art prompts too. If any of these prompts inspire you to create, I’d love to be tagged to see what you have made. This is all just for fun. I wish everyone a great start to the month. Please know I’m proud of you wherever you are right now - Love Levi ❤️

You can find all the prompts below the cut

General Prompts

Character A remembers the first time they felt a spark for Character B.

Character A thinks about when they almost died on a case and what their life flashing in front of their eyes looked like and how they wanted to change it.

Character A mourns the worst day of their life and how Character B made it all okay.

Character A accidentally stumbles across Character B’s social media and it is not what they imagined. It begins their friendship/relationship.

The team is losing a core member and they reflect on all the good and bad times they have had together.

A Character thinks about their child's first prom and growing up.

Character A finds a photo album featuring Character B and they can’t help but ask Character B about it.

Character A sends a love letter to Character B, but it arrives a month late. The two have to talk it out when it finally arrives.

A Character’s kid asks about death for the first time and a conversation ensues.

After ______ amount of time, a Character thinks about when they decided to start transitioning.

Slow Burn Enemies to Lovers fic.

Characters A and B talk about the start of the universe and if they believe in fate.

Character A temporarily loses a sense (taste, sight, hearing) and Character B reminds them what it’s like and that they are still capable and loved.

Character A loses a mentor and they confide in Character B how hard the loss is affecting them.

The team notices a new tattoo on Character A and they all speculate on what it means and when they got it.

A big test has Character A stressed out more than normal and Character B comes and helps them study and feel more relaxed.

Chacters A begins to have migraine like they did when they were younger, Character B helps them manage life while they stay.

They say hair holds trauma, so the Character gets a dramatic hairstyle change.

Character A moves out of their apartment and into Character B’s place. While taking down a picture, they remember when they first moved in.

A case relating to conspiracy theories with the BAU.

A character is being held by an unsub and thinks about the team they are sure will save them.

Character A let’s a secret from their past out and Character B asks them about it.

Character A thinks about their relationship with Character B as they plan on how to propose to Character B.

A Character has a gay awakening.

Red String of Fate fic.

Character A get Character B a toy they always wanted as a kid but never got.

Characters A and B go star gazing together.

Sometimes words just aren’t enough.

Anything inspired by “Too Sweet” by Hozier.

Word Prompts

Amnesia

Memory

Past

Outdated

Retro

Dreaming

Stars

Half-full

Past Lives / Past Loves

Origins

Dialog Prompts

“If you insult ______ again, you’d better be ready for what’s coming!"

“By the time a star’s light reaches the earth, it’s all burned up. Dead.”

“What do you remember love? Tell me everything"

“Nothing from your past could change how I feel about you ________. I love you despite whatever it is you’re going to say.”

“The stars are pretty, but they’re nothing compared to you.”

“Okay everyone, some dude called me a slut, and you know… he’s not wrong.”

Art Prompts

Aaron and Rossi talking

Penelope, Spencer, and Derek are at a park.

JJ and Will on a date.

Elle and Gideon playing chess.

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Tag list: @geminitapestry @silk-spun @criminalskies

Want to be added to my tag list? Please check out this post (linked)

Want to send in a request? Please check out this post, CM Request Post (linked)

15 notes · View notes

thevoidstaredback · 8 months ago

Text

Here's my thoughts during the Amazing Spider-Man 2

Tis a sad movie, I know that.

I'm fully prepared to be sad.

I wanted to watch this yesterday, but we didn't get around to it.

They should'a finished the trilogy.

A shame they didn't.

"Are those sirens?"

"...no."

Iconic.

Whistling his own theme song like he's walking in the park.

Stan Lee Cameo!!

Love Aunt May

Poor Peter, hallucinating Cop Dad Stacy

That is a lot of momentum changing on a dime, both forward and downward.

Max is a little.......

He gave Peter his title as Amazing, though.

Poor Max. It's his birthday and he's stuck at work.

Max deserves better.

Singing happy birthday to himself.

Oh, shit! Max!!

I forgot he's Electro...

Board member, beating around the bush.

Harry, saying like it is.

Harry and Peter are friends?!

The further I get into this movie, the more I realize I don't remember anything about it.

Their friendship makes me smile.

He's so in love with her.

She friend zoned him.

It's deserved, honestly.

Poor Max. So very confused.

And now he's hearing voices. At least his voices have a really cool song/chant. A step up from The Lizard's.

Why do all of Spidey's villains hear voices?

Red string works the best for conspiracy boards, but red tape works, too, I guess.

Love that the Spider-Man theme song is Peter's ringtone.

He said the thing!! (The words to the theme song)

And now Harry's asking Peter to get Spider-Man's blood. Awkward.

I keep forgetting that Peter takes pictures of himself for the Daily Bugel.

Poor Peter. Stuck behind a rock and a hard place.

Look at Harry giving relationship advice to Gwen.

Why did they think that shocking Electro would be a good idea? His whole power is electricity!

May's under a lot of stress.

The Roosevelt D-Train is pretty cool.

Harry said the magic words and now Electo is on his side. I wonder his reaction if he finds out his bestie Peter is Spider-Man?

That's a lot of flashing lights.

Like. A lot. I've had close my eyes three times..

Harry's the Green Goblin!!

Peter and Gwen are so cute together. I love them.

It'd be a damn shame if something happened to either of them.

Megaphone straight to the ear!

What if Aunt May and Ma Kent met? Can you imagine? I think they'd get on spectacularly.

I did not pay enough attention in science classes. I had to ask why Electro's weakness is water. Water conducts electricity, but it also shorts it out.

Gwen, honey. I told you that you run when people tell you to run. I don't care if you're the love interest, that only makes it worse for you. We all know the love interest has defective plot armor!

Electro is resolved and the airplanes didn't collide. Yay!

The movie's not over yet, though.

Green Goblin! Harry!

Oh, no.

He's not taking the news of Peter being Spiderman very well....

Word things better, Peter! I'm begging you!

Gwen!

Peter!

Harry..!

That clocktower is gonna be off forever now.

Gwen!!!!!!!!!!

I'll cry.

Catch her!

He doesn't catch her in time...

He can't follow her anymore.....

He has her speech!😭😭

Hey, look! It's Rhino!

Brave kid. Stupid, but brave.

Hey, look! It's Spider-Man!

You wanna know why they didn't continue the Amazing Spider-Man series? Because the second movie didn't sell as well as they wanted it to. I'm upset.

#andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman #spider man #the amazing spider man #the amazing spider man 2

4 notes · View notes

blackfairy312 · 4 months ago

Text

i jad a weird dream where someone made a FNAC fangame and they made the Puppeteer become a security guard? the game was super gritty and dark like one of those Edgy FNAF fangames and the main animatronic was this HORRIFIC version of Vinnie that in the dream i kept avoiding staring at it for too long cause, i quote, "i have hallucinations sometimes and i have a bad feeling that thing will trigger my psychosis and i'll be stuck seeing that fucking puppet for years" end quote

also in the dream i was at a convention ? and i saw a Wesker and Birkin cosplay couple and asked to take a picture with them cause i love Weskin . nice side quest in my dream

also James Sunderland was in my dream so put another mark on the board for how many times ive seen that bumbling idiot in my dreams . there was a section in my dream that was about the Silent Hill 2 remake kind of but James Sunderland eventually came to the place i was staying for Lore Reasons it's slipping from my mind now that im awake

also in my dream i met some other FNAC 3 fans but they were all like 14 years old abd they were all taking turns playing the scary FNAC fangame and telling me the lore drops so i could work on my red string conspiracy board where i was putting the lore together or something so i guess i became MatPat?

#🔥 bf312 posting #weird dreams

6 notes · View notes

dark-elf-writes · 2 years ago

Note

I’m imagining hot for teacher au Naruto has a couple of fans when he’s older right? He’d probably go into acting or singing for a while and catch peoples attention with his everything.

But anyway, I need one of those fans to start going insane over how much stuff Naruto is an established and well respected name in once they start researching him. Like full on conspiracy board with red strings connecting all the awards and eventually concluding “he isn’t real” type shit.

Naruto thinks it’s hilarious and works in some special effects makeup in a few interviews to make it look like his skin is pealing in an area to reveal metal or something.

A post goes viral with ‘evidence’ that Naruto is a clone and Naruto and Lee look at each other knowing that they have been handed the chance to be the two funniest mother fuckers alive.

The next day there are conflicting reports left and right of where Naruto is some saying he’s at the dance studio and some that he’s on a date with his mysterious man (somehow all pictures of Shika always amend up with his face covered. Every single one of them. Mostly by Naruto which is honestly impressive with the height difference) until finally at the end of the day they’re photographed spider man meme-ing at each other.

#the elf talks #naruto #hot for teacher au

38 notes · View notes

tcba · 2 years ago

Text

WASABI TIME!!!!!!!!!!! He's a cat who's! Not actually apart of the family! As a matter of fact he's not even croatian! He's from france! You may bully him for this by the way. He found them through Lorenzo's radio show job! He was able to mod his radio to go to most radio stations in Europe! However, he likes to call in to talk about his insane conspiracy theories, which has caused him to be banned from almost all of them! Literally people like. Warn about him. He doesn't even believe in his own theories, so that if the off-chance he is right then he'll be adored and praised. He lives in his family's garage, in a home of around 4 other kids. He's something of a hopeless romantic himself. He also has a giant journal since the age of 8, including everything from his most deepest darkest secrets, to really poorly drawn gay sex, to really bad pickup lines! Nobody else has seen it's contents. Nobody ever will. He's a bit blunt, and takes things rather literally. Everyone thinks he has a huge ego. He likes Weezer, researching aliens, old-fashioned technology, They Might Be Giants (He is still trying to determine if they are, in fact, giants), radio-shows, being in his garage, photobooks, using those boards with red string and pictures and shit you know the ones, and his brothers. He hates his brothers, modern things, people trying to tell him birds do in fact exist, people asking to see his journal, people bringing up his height, the ocean, and HAPPY. and furthermore LILLIAN.

He is autistic and has [SPOILER] and PSTD. He's also gay!

#TCBART #TCBA #THIS COULD BE ANYTHING #REF SHEETS #WASABI ENCHIPS #MAIN 5 #You guys are going to LOVE him I can feel it

19 notes · View notes

bluecoolr · 2 years ago

Text

Creeping Death

Episode 4: Stained Scarlet [Part 1]

Warnings: MINORS DNI! descriptions of nudity, gore, body horror, and swearing

Featuring Percy @the-pinstriped-hood , Skulk @probably-a-plant-thing , Red @damien-mlm , and Scarlet @kalid-raven

A/N: Some of Percy’s parts were written by the lovely @the-pinstriped-hood!

Having lost all leads and what little support they had from the local police force, Reinhart and Angel were forced to return to New Orleans disgraced. They were assigned to new, less high profile cases, after Brody Morgan’s mogul father publicly condemned the Police Department for its inefficiency. The case was quickly growing cold, and the boys seemed to have been ultimately swallowed by whatever Beast it was that haunted Devil’s Peak.

Reinhart, however, was not yet ready to let it win.

Angel watched him string together conjectures, contrivances, and conspiracies on the bulletin board of their shared office; like a tireless spider spinning a web - and at the very center of it was Darrell Todd.

—

Ever since that day at the bar, Darrell had craved distractions. He felt like an overturned tortoise with its underbelly exposed. He was trying very hard to roll right-side up. The time he spent off work and away from his partners was devoted to compulsive cleaning. He scrubbed, brushed, and polished all that he could get his hands on in his trailer.

He was twice as agitated since he found that his magic 8 ball was missing. He had his keys, yes, but it was nowhere on the keyring.

“Where’s your magic 8 ball now?” that awful man had jeered.

Darrell could feel the weight of him, like a stuffy scarf draped across his shoulders, now that the one thing that kept him in check - kept him at bay - was gone. He was free to roam around, bury his toes in the crumbly earth, and let himself soak in the ice cold rain.

He was talking louder these days. Boredom made him gab.

Worse, exhaustion and hypervigilance made Darrell feel like he was slipping, as though he was nodding off at the wheel. His greatest fear was that one day he’d find himself locked in the trunk and Bright Eyes with the keys to the car.

Presently, Darrell was trying to reset the dent Cristabella had driven into the side of the trailer.

“I don’t care ‘f it rains or freezes, long’s I got m’plastic Jesus sittin’ on the dashboard o’ my car…” Darrell hummed as he tapped the aluminum wall with a wooden meat mallet. “Come in colors pink and pleasant, glows ‘n the dark ‘cause it’s iridescent-”

The unpleasant voice spoke up. Put your back into it or we’ll be here all day.

Can’t or I’ll drive a hole into the bedroom wall.

Darrell continued with his little ditty and hammered away. Bright Eyes made a little miffed sound and grasped the handle tighter.

Oh, let me do it!

He slammed the wall back into shape, knocking several posters and pictures down from where they hung. Hurling the mallet to the side, he crab-walked around to gather them up. “Goin’ 90 I ain’t scared, long’s I got the Virgin Mare tellin’ me that I won’t go to hell-”

Bright Eyes stopped to inspect the polaroids in his hand. The subject of the photograph was facing away. Her shapely bottom, scantily clad in a paper-thin thong, was obviously the focal point of the shot. Tastefully erotic.

“And you let that ass go?” said Bright Eyes aloud.

He put the polaroid in the back of the stack and admired the next. The same woman, now facing the camera, was sitting on a velveteen couch. The back of her black dress had been undone, and it lay bunched around her hips. Dark hair spilled over her slender shoulders. Bright Eyes’ stare strayed to her breasts, but it lingered long on her face.

Her pretty face was turned slightly to the left, but her eyes were looking away. There was a playful glint in them, and there was a blur of white where her teeth bit softly into her pierced lower lip. Scarlet. He wondered where she was, how she was doing.

His phone was buzzing somewhere.

Bright Eyes went down the hall into the kitchen, set the sheaf of photos on the table, and picked up his phone. Percy had sent him a message.

Hey! You forgot your magic trinket, mind if I drop it by?

Fuck. Just when he thought he’d seen the last of it.

A few moments went by and Percy got a reply;

- My 8 ball! I was wondering where that went! Where’d you find it?

- You can thank Mac for that. I’m packing a bag now, I’m gonna try and get a hotel.

- There’s room in the trailer. If you don’t mind tight quarters, that is.

Bright Eyes glanced around in a panic. He really had the gall to have her over when the place was in this state? Too late. She’d taken him up on his word.

“Do we even have food to offer? S’matter o’ fact, I’m starvin’.” Bright Eyes opened the fridge and the pantry. He figured they had time to run to the store and get a few things and straighten up the place.

Percy called Darrell when she was half way to Devil’s Peak. “Hey, baby boy! Almost there. Making good time.”

There was a delay before Darrell voiced a reply. Bright Eyes cleared his throat, moistened his lips. “Hey, ma’am.” God, he sounded so hoarse. “Good to know. Head on over, but walk the clear path. Don’t stray from the old trail. Cristabella stalks for stragglers.”

Something had changed. She noticed right away. His tone. It was different - cold, tactical. “Alright. See you soon, sweet boy! Say hi to Cookie and Chili Pepper for me!”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

—

The car ride was lessened by Percy’s music as the Benatar cruised into Devil’s Peak. The vandalized sign she passed read "Prick", however. No doubt the work of some troublesome youths. Driving up the mountain, she found a suitable place to park in a gravel clearing meant for hikers and campers back when the trail was still in use.

It was empty now, with barely readable signs and rotting picnic tables. The whole lot was wrapped in a rusting chain link fence, with large tears here and there.

Thank God she didn’t wear heels. Sneakers crunched on jagged gray gravel and the hard earth of the mountain trail. She had to leave her Benatar for a while. The lock chirped and she began her ascent.

She found the trailer in the middle of the woods. Just as she stepped through the underbrush, she heard the loud squealing of a pig. In a flash, her back slammed against the trailer wall, heart hammering and eyes staring down who she could only assume was Cristabella.

The large black razorback, jowls hung with slobber, huffed at the supposed intruder until

Psst!

Percy shot a glance where the sound had come from. “Who’s there?” she cried.

By the door, tall and imposing, was Darrell. He bared his teeth at the inhospitable hog and barked, “Get!” with the ferocity of a predator. Cristabella trotted off.

Her face softened as she ran towards her son and into the trailer, the door closing behind her. “Oh sweetheart, thank you!” she sighed as she hugged him.

“Don’t mention it.” Darrell locked the door, looking through the glass for any more signs of the hog. “Sorry ‘bout that. She’s been real rude lately. She’s up for the matriarchy, ya know? When the time comes, she’ll take over from her Ma.”

Darrell looked her over, afraid she had been injured. “You alright, ma’am?”

“I’m fine sweetheart.” She looked up into his eyes. Something different for sure. She sat down on the dinette sofa. She was looking for something. She looked away and pulled the 8 ball out of her purse. “Here,” she said, “You can thank Macavity for playing with it while I was trying to vacuum under the couch.”

Darrell smiled at her, bright eyes crinkling. “Oh, no harm done,” he cooed, genially enough. Percy caught the little look of disgust he gave the trinket before he tossed it somewhere on the counter.

She studied him, eyes washing over him in contemplation. “So, I heard you got caught. Bo told me everything.”

"Chh!" Darrell scoffed. “Yeah. Ain’t gonna lock me up that easy.”

Percy’s attention fell on the stack of pictures on the table. Darrell gathered them leisurely and continued, “I got a whole contingency plan for things like this. Still in motion, but, yeah.”

His brown leather jacket hung on the back of the sofa. He opened the lapels and tucked the polaroids of Scarlet in the inner breast pocket.

He kicked back and crossed his legs. “Ain’t nobody ‘round here gonna put me away.”

“Something's wrong."

Darrell's brows shot up in intrigue.

"I could have sworn I was speaking to a stranger." Percy narrowed her eyes. “I've heard of it happening but… Who are you, really?”

The cockiness. The disregard for the 8 ball. That wasn’t Darrell. It was all slowly coming together; The mysterious dismissal from the Marines, the blatant god complex when he hunted, the infallibility that washed over him when he pursued travelers; Like he was a completely different person.

She remembered speaking with Red. "Bright-eyed bastard," she recalled him saying. "I thought Red was joking…"

Darrell sat still, kept quiet, drummed his fingers on the table.

"Is that what they call you? Bright Eyes?"

Percy felt like she was staring into the eyes of a dangerous animal. In fact, she felt no safer than when she had been looking at Cristabella. Darrell grinned and batted his pretty lashes.

"Ya really are a smart lil somethin', ain't ya, ma'am?"

Percy watched him.

"Guess ya can't make great detective novels if ya ain't." Bright Eyes studied her expression. "Don't be scared… Momma." The word was new to him, and he let it roll off his tongue delicately. "We've met before."

"It's me, Darrell."

Percy held his chin in the palm of her hand, face shining with the glow of motherly fondness. “So, it is,” she said, “Hello, darling.”

Ducking shyly, Bright Eyes peered through his lashes and smiled.

Percy hooked the magic 8 ball with Darrell’s keyring and slid across the table it to the young man - whichever of the two. His left hand remained clenched tight, but the right one reached for the ball and he wore the ring around his forefinger.

“Now,” Percy put her hands together. “The long drive sure made me hungry. Know anywhere we can grab a bite?”

“I know just the place.”

Arm in arm, the pair made the lengthy walk to the clearing, since Percy insisted on taking her car to town. She was thrilled by the thought of seeing Red again at the diner he worked at. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, getting out of the car. They had parked in front of some shops a couple of blocks from the diner.

“Yeah?” said Darrell, smoothing the front of his jacket. He whipped his hair out of his face and accepted Percy’s hand.

“You think I could maybe meet Skulk while I’m in town?” asked Percy.

Darrell rubbed his dry nose with the knuckle of his forefinger. “Heh. If I know Skulk, He’s already met you. You just don’t know it yet.” He glanced around as they walked, hoping to spot him in some queer hiding spot. It wouldn’t be the first time he stalked Darrell.

But someone else caught Darrell’s eye, someone he had never seen in town before; A man with a greasy, pockmarked face, wielding a hefty camera. “I see him, too,” whispered Percy. “You’d think he’d hide better. God, I hate paparazzi.”

The man kept taking pictures. Darrell could hear the shutter clicking incessantly. Beside him, Percy’s voice sounded distant and discordant. “I shouldn’t have sent the publishing house that headshot. It’s so much better to be a faceless author.”

Oh, but we both know it isn’t her they’ve come for, now don’t we?

Darrell grew rigid, like a deer bathed in headlights. The shutter kept clicking. Darrell felt a tremor in his eye.

Big smile, now. They’ve caught you.

—

He was distracted for most of the meal. So when Red came to their table to catch up with Percy, Darrell excused himself and stood in the twilit parking lot, the frosty air nipping his skin and bruising his already sensitive nose. His eyes darted from one dark shape to another. One sick thought kept running circles in his mind. It didn’t work, they’re onto us.

“Hey.”

Darrell spun around with such violence that he stumbled. Red reached out to steady him just in time. “Hey! Hey, it’s ok. It’s just me.” Red caressed his cheek. “You seem out of it, man.”

“I’m fine. It’s just… allergies.”

It was a poorly thought up excuse, really, but Darrell didn’t want to alarm him. Not now when he wasn’t sure whether the photographer was a P.I. or a mere paparazzo. He faced Red and tried to lose himself in his familiarity.

It dawned on him then how haggard Red looked. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his cheeks were pale and hollow.

Darrell held him at arm’s length, floored by how he had only noticed the state Red was in. “Are you alright, Red? Like, really.”

There was a flash of alarm that made Red’s eyes grow wide. “Yeah. Just… tired. I guess,” he said meekly.

“I’ll come stay with you when Momma goes home, ok?” said Darrell, gaining a hasty nod.

“Don’t… worry about me.”

They heard the diner door rattle closed and saw Percy fixing the contents of her purse. “I went ahead and paid the check, Darrell dear. Is there somewhere you wanna go before we turn in for the night?” She turned to Red. “Do you want us to wait, sweetie? I can give you a lift.”

“Oh, no! You’ll be here a while if you do. I’ll be fine. You two go on ahead.”

They said their goodbyes and Darrell and Percy started the journey back to the trailer. After much persuasion, Percy agreed to take Darrell’s bed. She wouldn’t be half as comfortable on the pull-out couch, he insisted.

Darrell fell asleep with a dry, scratchy feeling in his nose. It was as if the cold had burrowed in the soft space under the cartilage like a furry, white mouse with tiny claws.

—

There was a tree in a glade.

He was in the woods behind his parents' house. He knew without looking.

There was a tree in a glade and he was standing right in front of it.

What kind of tree was it? He forgot.

But it was big, with parasitic branches that reached out and tangled themselves with their neighbors and covered the world in shadow.

The earth grasped by the roots was dark, damp, pungent. That meant it was fertile, which was strange because all around the trees were dying. It was autumn.

There were wounds on the trunk. Red sap spilled out in dark viscous rivulets, staining the roots and the ground.

The tree was staring back, which was a weird thing to think because trees didn't have eyes.

But then again trees shouldn't bleed either.

The ground reeked of iron and suddenly the trunk began to crack. Splinters flew and a purple arm tumbled out of the fissure. Black hair obscured where the arm met the shoulder as the body it was connected to slumped like a discarded ragdoll.

But in the way of nightmares, the body spasmodically changed from slumped to sitting. Glassy gray eyes stared blank and wide, mouth slightly open. Black rot like tar stuck the hair to the skin.

There was a tree in a glade and Red was in it.

Darrell woke in the small hours with the front of his shirt glistening, his lips slick with his own blood.

—

Hiya! I'm back with more canon!Darrell content! This was getting too long so I took Damien's advice and cut it in half.

Tagging some moots that might enjoy this: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @kalid-raven @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @immortal-velociraptor @allthingsblood @goldrose-star

Every part can be found under the creeping death tag if you wanna start from Episode 1 btw <3

#darrell todd #slasher oc #oc writing #creeping death #bluecoolr.txt #tw gore #tw body horror #tw nudity

29 notes · View notes

all-for-geek · 1 year ago

Text

I Lost You Once Chapter 10: Nightmares

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

Word Count: 1,766

Fandom: Alex Bale/Don't Feed the Muse

Warnings: Grotesque Imagery and Fear

Summary: It's been a week since Kim's failed attempt to reach Mark. As they try to figure out their next step, old fears come back to haunt them.

Ramona tapped her tentacle on the desk impatiently. The loading bar on her screen inched along. This video seemed to be uploading even slower than the first one. Ramona didn’t think that that was possible.

It was silly, really. After all the torture, mutilation, and damage that had gone into getting these tapes, the hardest part of the process was sitting in a chair and waiting. To pass the time, Ramona pinned her focus back on the playback of the stolen footage. Maybe if she swept through it for the fifteenth time, she would find something new.

Shock and awe, she didn’t. At least this time she didn’t have to sit through the audio from that poor kid. She heard it enough when she was trapped in the lab. Ramona couldn’t help the little smirk that crept along her face when the video reached her section though. It was a shame she couldn’t find any of her grand escape in the files. Maybe it was in the corrupted footage.

A part of her wondered if she was playing her hand too much with the warning at the end. When HMF finds these videos, if they haven’t found them already, it will confirm that it’s Ramona sending them. Ramona chuckled. She was starting to sound like Kim. Besides, the loading screen, finally, was done. No way was she sitting through that process again until she had a new video to release.

Ramona closed the laptop and walked out of the guest room that had become her home. On her way to the living room, she heard the rummaging of papers and muttered swears coming from Kim’s office. As Ramona stepped into the doorway, she saw Kim nursing a small prick on the tip of her finger, but her attention was quickly drawn to the massive cork board behind her friend.

It was a full blown conspiracy board. Everything they knew, or suspected, about Happy Meat Farms was somewhere on it. Kim had even gone out of her way to include red string, connecting various pieces of information and theories. Ramona could help but stand in wonder.

“Wow.”

Kim turned around and shrugged nonchalantly. “I figured that having everything we know in front of us would be useful.”

“You don’t think you overdid it just by a touch,” Ramona asked teasingly. She stepped into the room to inspect the board.

“Don’t act like this is the weirdest thing I’ve done,” Kim countered. “The next video done?”

“Finally,” Ramona muttered through gritted teeth.

“You know it will keep loading if you look away, right?”

“I know. I just like making sure that-” Ramona cut herself off as she stared at the cork board. She stared curiously at one of the photos. It was of her and Kim when they were kids on the farmland that could become HMF. She hadn’t seen the photo in decades.

“Why is this one on here?” Ramona asked.

“We’re a part of this too,” Kim answered. She bent down to pick up some of the papers on the floor, her hair obscuring her face. “It made sense to have a picture of us up there.”

“Yeah, but why-” Ramona was cut off again. At the top of the board was another picture. One Ramona’s mother had taken of the meteor shower over their farm all those years ago. That wasn’t up there before.

The longer Ramona stared at the board, the more pictures of her childhood appeared. Some she remembered being taken, others not. The older the photos became, the more the girl in them took on the monstrous form Ramona now had. In every photo, Ramona was taking care of the farm. The red string twisted to the point at the center.

The center photo was of the farm house on fire. The little girl, now fully transformed into the monstrous form she now had, stared and watched as the flames grew brighter. They flickered intensely in their monochrome glory. The wind picked up in the room, only just covering up the screams from her old home.

Ramona’s eyes welled shut from the tears. The wind made the grass poke and prod at her stretched out skin. A reminder, a punishment, for what she had done.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t know…I didn’t think that it would-”

“There is no need to cry, my child.” That low, maternal voice echoed in Ramona’s head.

Ramona whipped her head around, the red glow of the sky beating down on her. She turned to see Kim still standing behind her. No, not Kim…

Connie’s face was void of any emotion. She opened her mouth, and Ramona recognized the voice that came out.

“You promised that you wouldn’t let us down,” Jared’s voice said. “Don’t let us down. Don’t let us down! DON’T LET US DOWN! DON’T LET US DOWN!”

The fire spread from the house and encircled the two. Ramona jolted up in her bed screaming.

Kim was in the forest by her house. She was running. She was always running. HMF found them, and they had to run. Ramona and Connie were ahead of her, and she tried not to think about how she was falling behind.

The roots on the ground twisted and writhed as they tried to slow the three down. The creatures behind them howled in excitement. They sounded so much like real dogs, but Kim remembered. They haven’t been dogs for a long time.

The trees were closing in. Ramona and Connie were farther away. Kim’s legs burned with exhaustion. How much longer could she take this?

Kim got her answer as one of the creatures latched onto her leg, dragging her down. Its bite didn’t hurt, but it caused a numbness that began to spread up her thigh. Her scream finally caused Connie and Ramona to turn around.

Connie grabbed onto Kim’s arm and pulled. Kim felt like she was going to be split in two before she was shaken loose. She was forced to gasp in relief as Connie dropped her arm and focused on the other dogs circling around her.

Kim was quickly losing all feeling in her body. She only realized she was being dragged away when her friends looked smaller in the distance. She used her last ounce of feeling to shift her gaze to Ramona. All she did was stare back.

A distorted scream erupted through the forest. It rescued Kim as her eyes popped open. The bright blue screen of her laptop, still open on her blog, woke her up in the most uncomfortable way. She ran to Ramona’s room.

Connie didn’t need sleep. Not in the way humans did at least. Her physical form would require time to regain its energy, but her mind never truly turned off. She was always aware. Even when she retreated into the deepest parts of her mind (a sensation she assumed was similar to dreaming), she could feel the hardwood floor of the attic beneath and the wind rippling through the thin walls. She tried to remind herself of those physical anchors as she stared at the vision her subconscious had given her.

It started out innocent enough. The blank, white space that had become her retreat over the years. It was calming to stare into the bright void and detach from the world for a while. When needed, she could mold this place for whatever she desired whether it be to reminisce or to solve a problem. Tonight, however, the void shifted against her will.

Her bright haven was sucked into a bottomless black hole. She thought for a moment that the void was broken, but then a singular light flicked to life. It revealed a dingy hallway ending in a red door.

Connie froze in place. She knew what was behind that door. Even in her subconscious, She radiated power and beauty. A terrible beauty that threatened to suck you in and never let you go. Connie had not thought about Her in a very long time. And never this vividly.

“Come to me…”

Connie was helpless to stop herself as she opened the door.

Mother’s light shone brighter than Connie remembered. She stared in reverence as the weight of Mother’s power pushed Connie to her knees. A bug deep inside her whispered that this was bad. Connie was in danger. But its cries were growing quieter every second spent in Mother’s grace.

“My child, why have you not returned to me?”

The bug wanted to answer. It wanted to say how Mother would have tried to fix her, but would a fixed Connie still be Connie? But Connie knew that this was a bad thought and only hung her head in shame.

“Do not be discouraged, my child. There is always a path back home, no matter how far away you wander. You have done well in gaining the trust of your host. I can see a great path ahead for you, but you mustn’t delay. You have remained in phase one for too long. You must complete the process.”

The small but mighty bug yanked on Connie with all its might. It was enough for her to regain all of her senses before Ramona’s scream pierced the night. Connie winced at the sudden noise.

She creaked open the round window that looked out on the gardens that Kim took such tender care in. She needed to be away from Kim for the time being. For both their sakes.

The scream was reaching its end when Kim burst into Ramona’s room. Between the dark and the hair that covered her body, Kim couldn’t get a good look at her friend, but she could see her heavy breaths and shaking shoulders. Kim sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Ramona, can you hear me?” It took a moment for Ramona to nod her head. Kim slowly reached over and grabbed the part of Ramona’s tentacle she assumed was the hand.

Ramona felt a gentle squeeze. She looked down to see Kim’s hand wrapped around her own. She met Kim’s eyes through her knotted hair. There wasn’t a spec of disgust or horror on Kim’s face. Ramona’s breath began to even out.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course,” Kim replied. They were silent for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ramona shook her head.

The two sat there like that for a while. Neither said anything. The silence was only interrupted by a notification from the phone on the nightstand. Ramona looked at it and her eyes widened.

“Carl’s going live.”

#alex bale #don't feed the muse #dftm #ramona bynes #i lost you once #my works

3 notes · View notes

direwombat · 2 years ago

Text

tagged by @natesofrellis and @socially-awkward-skeleton

and taggin forward: @thomrainer, @strangefable, @purplehairsecretlair, @adelaidedrubman, @strafethesesinners, @confidentandgood, @noetikat, @aceghosts, @funkypoacher, @harmonyowl, @deputyash, @sstewyhosseini, and anyone else who wants to share some of their wips before the ball drops on 2023!

the writing has been slow this uh...whole month...but here’s a rough start of syb’s canonical storyline!

[Sybille] stares at the tangled mess of a conspiracy that she supposes may not be so conspiratorial after the goddamned bitch of a night she just had. Newspaper clippings, photographs, scrawled notes that she might have once disregarded as the rambling of a madman all pinned up on a cork-board, all connected by red string. Somehow, Dutch had managed to tie together events, found the common threads that ultimately led back to the Seeds. Succeeded in piecing the puzzle together where the Sheriff’s Department had failed.

The signs were right there, staring them right in the face. Why hadn’t they acted sooner?

“Christ,” she sighs. Dutch comes to stand next to her, handing her a cup of coffee, which she gratefully takes. The ceramic mug is the first warm thing she’s felt since being pulled out of the river. She cradles it in her hands, shivering as the heat slowly works its way from her fingers to the rest of her body. “How did we miss all this?”

“Peggies ain’t exactly trusting people,” Dutch shrugs. “They kept most of this under wraps for years. They were careful. Moved slow until suddenly they metastasized like a fuckin’ cancer. And now that this “Reaping” as Joseph calls it has started, shit’s only gonna get worse.”

Sybille’s jaw clenches, not taking her eyes off the pictures of the family who fucked the whole county. “Let me guess: you want me to be the surgeon in this metaphor.”

“We need as many able-bodied people as we can if we want to stand a chance against the Cult. Being a good shot is a bonus.”

She turns her head to look at him, her eyes narrowed. “You need a soldier,” she says plainly. She’s more than familiar with the speeches. So many commanding officers have touted the need to band together against a common enemy -- protect your country -- when what they really mean is that she and her brothers and sisters in arms need to kill so other people don’t need to. She’s made her peace with the grim reality of the blood on her hands. There’s no need to pussyfoot around it.

She’s being asked to kill again. The war she had been so gracelessly kicked out of seems to have followed her back home. And not in the way it does most who make it out.

Dutch gives her a sympathetic smile. She may not be wearing the fatigues anymore, but the look of a soldier is unmistakable. She carries it with her wherever she goes. It’s in the set of her jaw and square of her shoulders. It’s in the way she needs to have a visual on all entrance and egress points and how her eyes instinctively track every subtle movement, even the ones that aren’t really there.

“We need more than that, Dep,” Dutch says. “We need a leader.”

She really shouldn’t laugh, but the irony is nigh unbearable. Promoted to Staff Sergeant only to be sent home and find herself as the Junior Deputy. The Rookie. “Your confidence in me, while deeply unfounded, is appreciated,” she says. “But all I want is to find my brother.”

Please. Please let Augustine be alright.

“Then odds are he’s caught in this shit too.” Dutch sighs. “Look, I ain’t gonna make you do anything you don’t want to, but I think you know that your best chance at finding your brother is by helping the people of the county. Someone’s bound to have seen him.”

She turns back to the conspiracy board and drinks her coffee. Black and scalding, just how she likes it. Her eyes track the map underneath the mess of papers and photos, landing on the Whitetail Park’s Ranger’s Station. It’s where her brother was on duty last night. Hopefully he and his coworkers were able to pull together and hold their position. She knows he’s armed, at the very least, but guns meant to frighten off bears won’t mean shit against a fucking army.

Goddammit. Dutch is right, isn’t he?

She sighs and gives him an appraising look. Prepper-type like him must have some weapons stashed somewhere in his bunker. Some of them might even be legally obtained. Not that it matters now. “I’m gonna need a gun.”

#wip whenever #wip: watch and wait for redemption day #verse: watch and wait for redemption day #fun fact! this is the /only/ bit of syb's canon storyline i have written

15 notes · View notes