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danggirlronpa · 2 years ago

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FAQ

Now that we’ve got some of the Big Long FAQ Content out of the way, we can finally post an FAQ for The People! This will be updated as needed.

Last updated 7/7/2024.

Who exactly are you?

You can call me Peach! I got into Danganronpa when the Game Grumps started playing it, and haven’t quite been able to drop the interest since. I’m a 26-year-old nonbinary lesbian, and I’m currently working towards a career in video games. It's just me running this thing, so please be patient waiting for me to get back to you!

There’s a post I want you to reblog/I made something that would fit on this blog/I found something I think you should see.

Awesome! Please send a link through the submission box – I’ll take it from there! Note that it may take some time for any posts to show up on the blog. I also try to keep the blog relatively safe to browse in public, so I reserve the right not to post anything that I judge as too risque.

You are also free to @ me on posts, but keep in mind that Tumblr's blog tagging doesn't always work for me; submitting is generally the safer way to do it!

Will you tag for [X]?

I will tag anything upon request. This does not have to be triggering content - I do my best to tag all characters and ships within the post so they're easy to block or track. If the current tag is difficult to blacklist, I would be happy to add another tag! I will never ask why you want something tagged. If you send the ask off anon or request I not post it, I will answer the ask privately/add the tag without posting the ask. If I ever fail to tag something that I usually tag, please inform me right away.

You can find a full list of current trigger tags under the Blog Policies!

What's with the "for anon (:" tag?

There are a few blog policies that have generated some pretty nasty messages in my inbox. To save me the headache and my followers the annoyance, I make it a personal policy not to respond to them; instead, I just quietly reblog the content again and move on. These topics include:

Chihiro on the blog. You can find the reasoning in this post! The quick version is that I personally find most Chihiro headcanons perfectly valid, but due to the transphobia inherent in their canon depiction, it is important to me to acknowledge the popular fandom reclamation of the character as a trans girl.

Miyadera/Sister Shinguji. I outlined my full opinion on this here, and this is an important follow up! The quick version is that the degree of violence people wish on Miyadera makes me extremely uncomfortable considering her lack of canonical presence, and it reminds me of famous misogyny-driven character hate.

Will you still tag those topics for blacklisting?

Absolutely! The 'for anon :)' tag is to discourage aggressive asks, not to mock anyone who has issues with the subject.

A post where skin was lightened wasn't tagged/you tagged a post for whitewashing but it wasn't lighter than the canon skin color! Why do you keep doing that?

I have a TERRIBLE time distinguishing colors. I'm one of those people who has a ton of difficulty telling shades of the same color apart, and it's even more difficult for me to eyeball when they've changed the tints but not the lightness. You're just gonna have to tell me anytime a post like this comes up ): Sorry for the inconvenience!

Why do you reblog [X] type of "problematic" ship, but not [Y]?

Danggirlronpa sits somewhere on the line between an archiving project and a fanblog. Over the years, I’ve seen many fanworks and fandom history lost due to blog deletion and movement across platforms. This blog is intended to preserve all of this content for newer audiences and maintain an easy-to-use interface. As a preservation project, I try not to impose too many moral restrictions on what I reblog, even when it makes me personally uncomfortable. However, since this isn’t a professional archiving project, I’ve allowed myself one or two arbitrary standards for things that truly cross the line towards what I personally find uncomfortable.

If this is a project for archiving F/F ships, why do you reblog posts with just one girl?

Due to the nature of some girls’ popularity in fandom, there is a huge discrepancy in the amount of content for each of them. To even that playing field a little bit, I tend to reblog content for less appreciated girls, even if it isn’t actively sapphic.

What about why you reblog whitewashing?

Whitewashing and other forms of covertly racist, homophobic, and transphobic expressions in art are an important thing to archive because they show us the ugly side of fandom. For all four notably dark-skinned girls in DR, even after getting notably less engagement than their light-skinned peers, deleting every post that lightens their skin would cut their presence on this blog by half.

Ultimately, this blog aims to preserve the ugly parts of DR and its fandom, too, whether that be giving dark-skinned characters monkey companions in official merch, Atua jokes, trans Chihiro discourse, or blind hatred of "bitchy" female characters. While uncomfortable, they are something to note and learn from. If any existing tags do not help keep these off your dash in the event you don't want to see them, I highly encourage you to ask me to tag in a way that will be easy for you to block!

The OP/person you reblogged this from is problematic!

I have, in the past, been harassed due to the spread of misinformation through call out posts and other word-of-mouth. The harassment I experienced led to a suicidal relapse, and I still have a great deal of trauma from it. As a result, I am very cautious about asks like this. You are always free to send me information about someone questionable in the community, but please know that I will generally handle the issue quietly, and will not directly respond to you about it at all if you are on anon.

How do you feel about X current event issue?

Unless I have overwhelming approval to do so from followers, which I would only ask for in the event of a charity or benefit project, this blog will be a permanent safe space from real world issues. I may talk about oppression that I have personally experienced, but I will not bring up major current events.

For the same reason, please do not ever expect a DNI from me. I reserve the right to refuse discussion about anything, and block anyone, that I choose. While this is a project to help others, I feel strongly about setting my own boundaries, and will exercise my right to do so!

My question still isn't on here!

Drop it in the ask box! My messages have previously gone completely offline, so asks are the safest way to reach me.

#faq #mod talks

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system-vent · 6 months ago

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So. Vent about systems cringe. We ended up getting posted there and it was mostly our alter intros. Which whatever. And we just wanna vent since the person we usually speak to for comfort and venting isn't awake right now. Obvs we know systems cringe sucks and they're all just assholes and ableists.

But the fact that they completely misconstrue our words. First it was a joke we made about our programming as we had come out of a breakdown and ranted about it (we are a tbmc survivor) and then now it was our alter intros and like one or two of our light hearted posts. Pretty relieved they didn't post our very angsty rants that DO dig into trauma. They acted like we were making a mockery of the disorder because it's actually suffering because they specifically chose our cutesy alter intros and our very few recent light hearted posts.

I knew it would only be a matter of time before they found us. Makes us paranoid since we have a history of harassment. Even if our profiles weren't shown, our accounts still feel easy to find and stuff.

The biggest thing is how faceless these asshats are. I would love to just fucking block them and never have to worry, but no. So they can just have access to all of us and post it to mock us.

We aren't shocked we eventually got posted and despite our paranoia, we have no intentions of stopping. It's our one safe outlet that gets the thoughts out of our head and allows us to cope with a lot of stuff. Which none of this is new for places like systems cringe or fake disorder cringe. It's just pathetic really. Assuming so much about someone based on a cutesy aesthetic-ish bio they made for their alters to feel seen and all of that.

Plus the assumption all of our alters were programmed or we said that. The only time we put "programmed alters" in tags is when it is talking about a specific alter. We say we are a programmed system and a tbmc survivor. The alters we allow and are okay with being seen are ones not intrinsically linked to programming or our trauma, usually fictives. Pretty sure we even said that in one of the posts, but our memory might be wrong.

You just gotta love people wanting to simply attack mentally ill people that don't fit their idea of what a disorder should look like and for posting happiness. We feel like shit posting dark shit all the time even though our system accounts are for that. So us posting silly posts gets us posted to systems cringe apparently. Shocker. And the fact we have 0 control is triggering to us in many ways

Ultimately we'll be fine. Our accounts are nothing more than essentially journals and we've come a long way since first starting to exist openly as a system. I'm used to people making assumptions about us based on our bios and stuff. We've flat out faced people assuming we were abusive for our disorders so we don't ultimately mind even if it is triggering.

It really is just pathetic. Truly. I don't remember why we ended up on the subreddit again. We were looking at something else and happened to trail onto it. But whatever.

Also a lot of our programmed alters are not ever going to be publicly named or ones more personal because we cannot guarantee our safety from our abuser. So yeah. Of course stuff is gonna be focused on the alters that are recent or goofy or light hearted.

Just...Just frustrating. Just really need to vent about that cause otherwise we will have repetitive thoughts until we can get it out.

#did vent #osdd vent #sys vent #system vent #cw: ableism #tw: ableism #cw: fake claiming #tw: fake claiming #tw: programming #cw: programming #tw: tbmc #cw: tbmc

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one-eyed-son · 1 year ago

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BASICS

Please, please be kind and patient. 18 or older. No Minors Communication is KEY, if you're not gonna reply for a bit just let me know. Please don't just ghost. I really prefer if you just tell me you don't want RP. I don't write on Discord, or in Tumblr DMs. But my DMs are always open.

PLOTTING

I love to plot! Plotting gets me more invested in threads and pairings. But I hate one-sided plotting, especially with OCs. If you want to come plot, come to me with ideas! I will do the same.

MEMES

My memes never expire, you can use them whenever you see them. But if it has been a while since I posted them I would appreciate you linking the post in the ask.

FORMATING

I'm not picky when it comes to formatting, I will usually mirror my partners. But please write in the 3rd person, it's just easier to read and write with for me.

OCS

OCs are always welcome! I love OCs, I have quite a few of them myself! I have nothing against them, but if you want to plot with an OC and a canon character bring some ideas to start with. Crossovers are always welcome but may have to be plotted.

TRIGGERS

This blog will feature mature themes, such as death, abuse, drugs, alcohol, violence, sexual situations, and incest. Will always do my best to tag, these things, but just be aware. Triggers will also be present in Character Bios as well. Triggers will be tagged as such:

tw: *trigger here*

SELECTIVITY

I am selective in who I write with, I look at the muses, and see if I see any possible interactions. I do try to give everyone an option. If I am not feeling a thread or a pairing I have the right to stop. I'll let you know if I am not feeling it and we can go from there. You can do the same just let me know. Aemond can be finicky at times, and he isn't going to get along with every muse thrown at him.

SHIPPING

I love to ship! Let’s chat and plan! There needs to be chemistry between the characters, and I usually like to start an interaction and develop it not just jump straight into it. Not all ships, interactions, or threads have to be romantic, I love platonic, family pairings too!

MUTUALS

My mains will usually have the forefront of my attention. I know them the best and they are RP partners that I talk with, plot with, and gush about ideas with so ideas for our characters and threads are always racing through my head. If you want to be a main, feel free to ask. I don't write with just mains, so always feel free to reach out.

INTERACTIONS

Memes are always a fun way to get the ball rolling so feel free to send those in! Or also feel free to simply jump into my DMs. It's the best way to get ahold of me. I love talking about characters, plots, headcanons, all the things. If you follow me, and I follow back and DM, and nothing happens between us within a week I'll usually unfollow. If you wanna write with me don't be afraid to jump into my DMs or send in some memes!

#rules

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stardustbarbarians · 2 years ago

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Everything Leaves You Hungry

Part Two

A Samuel Kiszka / fem!reader fic

Summary: Sam gets a taste of the life.

Tags: Sam-centric, y/n isn't introduced until later on, serial killer au, addiction (but not to drugs)

Trigger Warnings: blood, death, murder (graphically described), mugging, Ohio {if I miss any please tell me}

Words: 4.6 k

A/N: Mac Saturn released their EP and this is what I do with it. Title taken from and inspired by Persian Rugs by Mac Saturn. Also this is like extremely fucked up, but I'm not gonna apologize. This is especially dedicated to @t00turnttrauma and @ofthecaravel because they were my hype team while writing this. Anyway, please enjoy!

+++

It had been about five years since the day Sam got a taste of the best euphoric experience in his life. Ever since, he’d been chasing that high. He was willing to risk his life and career to get that rush of power and exhilaration flooding his bloodstream, but he always had to keep his appetite on a very, very tight leash. Despite having to live with the constant need buzzing just beneath his skin like an itch you can’t scratch, he hardly ever satiated that desire.

Why?

Well, murder is frowned upon in all fifty states as well as in every country around the world.

Sam could tell you what happened that night five years ago like it was yesterday; it was something he often revisited in his mind. He was still in high school at that time, a member of the student council. The council all got together for a float decorating party at the president’s house, homecoming right around the corner and the seniors wanting to get a jump on their float. It was well past dark when they finished, rain dumping out onto the streets of rural Frankenmuth. Sam had been waiting for Jake to come and pick him up for twenty minutes, standing on the street corner they agreed to meet at.

He’d long since been soaked to the bone, nothing to shield him from the severe rain. Calling Jake wasn’t an option; his phone died at the meeting. He had to make a choice, either walk back to his fellow council member’s house or just make the half an hour walk himself.

Since he was already drenched, Sam threw caution to the wind and began trekking towards his house. He decided to take the route that Jake takes to drive him, that way if he did eventually show up their paths would cross. It was quite relaxing, despite the pouring rain. It was a fairly safe walk, just farmhouse after farmhouse and long stretches of fields in between; save for one section. There was an old steel mill that had shut down in the 70s and it was always in the news; people ODing there or murder victims being found within the decaying walls. One time there was even evidence of satanic worship found in the building which just nearly got the city to tear it down. However, they never could scrape up enough funds for that.

Usually, driving past the bowing chain link fences that were tangled with weeds sprouting out of the cracking concrete was safe enough. Considering Sam was walking, that put him at risk. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he strode past the crumbling structure, his eyes darting frantically around the dark for any threats. His sight was the only sense he could rely on, the roaring patter of rain plummeting into the ground like omnipresent static hindering his hearing significantly. Sam blames that on how he found himself with the business end of a knife pressed to his throat.

“Give me your wallet, pretty boy,” someone hissed into his ear. Sam immediately put his hands up, his blood turning cold.

“I’ll give it to you, I’ll give it to you,” he rushed out, his tone distressed. He frantically searched his pockets, patting down his jeans and his leather jacket. It was while he was searching his jacket that he found the box knife he’d used at the council meeting to open the packaging on their float decorations.

Without thinking too much, Sam pushed the blade out of the handle with the button and slashed at his attacker’s arm. The knife left his throat, the man he injured screaming out in agony. Sam whipped around to face him, his eyes taking in the sight of a vagabond clutching his arm as blood gushed out of a gaping wound, the rain attempting to keep up with the flow of gore and wash it away. Using the distraction to his advantage, Sam wasted no time swinging the box cutter into the side of the mugger’s neck. He managed to sever the carotid artery, blood streaming from his neck and onto Sam’s hand. It was warm, comforting against the chilly September weather.

He was mesmerized by the way the red oozed out of the gaps in the drifter’s fingers that he pressed against the wound. They both knew he wasn’t going to survive; that reality left a wild look in the attacker’s eyes as he seemed to desperately beg Sam for an answer to why. Sam was frozen in place. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the way the life seeped out of the vagabond, the fight for his life something so enticing to Sam.

He was expecting to feel a crushing dread fall upon him like an anvil as his victim ceased moving, a crumpled shell of a man lying hopelessly in the dirt. Instead, he felt a sense of power and euphoria thundering through his veins. The adrenaline rush left Sam feeling like he was invincible, a weightlessness hovering him from the clutches of the tethers of reality.

There was a small voice at the back of his mind that was telling him he needed to flee the scene. He stumbled back from the body, his legs feeling numb and having a mind of their own. Closing his eyes and letting the moment sink in, Sam took a deep breath and returned himself to normal. He walked away from his crime just as he had walked into it; like he hadn’t just committed an act of god.

He didn’t throw the box knife away. He didn’t even put it back into his pocket. He kept it in his hand and let the rain wash away his sin.

The rest of his trip home went off without a hitch. Sam, upon turning onto his block, finally tucked the box knife into his jacket. He didn’t even bother knocking as he strode right though the front door. The twins, who were watching Psycho, jumped at the sound of the door opening. They visibly relaxed when they realized it was just their brother. Then Jake seemed to remember that he was supposed to have picked Sam up from the council meeting, his eyes as wide as dinner plates and his body as rigid as a 2x4.

“Shit, Sam, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologized, fearing the wrath that might come from forgetting his little brother. He kept glancing at Josh, pleading with him to help him out.

“Don’t worry about it. I got to go for a relaxing walk,” Sam dismissed, waving his hand at Jake and toeing off his soaked converse. They had made squishing sounds with each step he took.

The twins wore matching expressions of pure shock. Typically, Sam would’ve been so pissed off he would’ve tore them both to shreds with his wrath. Never before had they seen him be so calm over such an inconvenience.

“Y-you’re not mad?” Josh timidly inquired. He was expecting to have to wrangle Sammy away from Jake that night.

“Nope,” Sam answered, popping the P in the word. He flashed them both a brilliant smile, wringing his hair out in the kitchen sink that was across from the living room.

Josh and Jake shared a look with one another, having one of those silent conversations. When he was done squeezing the water out of his hair, Samuel stepped into the living room. Noticing his presence, they turned to look at him.

“What’s on your shirt?” Jake questioned, pointing at the orange-ish pink spot on Sam’s white shirt. The youngest pulled the fabric away from his skin, regarding it.

“Shit, I knew paint was a bad idea,” he smoothly lied. He was so glad at that moment that their school colors were red; it made the lie all the more convincing. His brothers seemed convinced, accepting the possibility of Sam using paint at his float party. With no further questions, Sam went upstairs to get changed out of wet clothes.

For the weeks following that night, Sam kept an eye on the news. It took a day or two, but his murder eventually made it on the air. The story only covered the basics of the incident: a man was found dead outside the Cass Steel Mill, a slash on his arm and stabbed in the neck. A police investigation was opened, but the running theory was that he got into a fight with another drifter over territory.

That was the end of it. Despite opening a case on the murder, the authorties didn’t spend too many resources on it. It went cold.

Sam got away with murder.

It started an insidious chain reaction inside of Sam. He felt like a god; nothing could match him or defeat him. It was the most addictive thing he’d ever known.

+++

After that night, he was left with the insatiable need to chase that high buzzing just beneath his skin constantly. However, he didn’t give in until almost a year later. The reason he was holding back wasn’t due to the fact that he was afraid of who he became; it was due to the fact that he didn’t want to push his luck.

Making it big with the band and going on tour was great because he was able to live his dream of becoming a professional musician and all, but it was amazing because he was able to hop around city to city and hardly leave a trace. He had an excuse to constantly be running away from his crimes. He was never a suspect because he was never around when the bodies were found. He learned to keep the weapons with him after his first went cold without a weapon found and he also never used the same one twice. If there wasn’t a pattern, then there was no way to connect any of his killings.

There were moments where he felt a ghost of what could’ve been fear at what he was capable of, his inability to feel anything close to remorse for taking people’s lives, but he was able to easily tune it out with his fervent need. There was nothing that could stop him short of his own death.

Despite being hyper aware of his own invincibility, Sam still kept an eye on the news at all times. There was a difference between knowing your abilities and arrogance and Sam was frequently keeping himself in check to prevent himself from slipping towards the latter. However, he wasn’t infallible. While trying to emulate the role of the gods, Sam didn’t realize he was in fact playing the part of Icarus. It was while they played a show in Ohio, because of course it was in Ohio. Nothing good ever happens in that wretched place.

As usual, the niggling craving for blood was vying for his attention. But that night, it was so incredibly strong that Sam couldn’t concentrate. He felt as if every synapsis in his brain was begging him to slake his thirst, but it went even beyond the mental. It was affecting him physically, as well. His heartbeat could be heard thumping within his chest by his own ears, his vision going in and out of focus with each contraction of his heart, and his hands shaking like a Parkinson's patient. He was irritable, speaking only in a clipped tone and snapping at anyone who dared to converse with him.

Jake and Josh, who were used to such behavior from their brother, just rolled their eyes at Sammy and basically ignored him. Daniel noticed. He knew it wasn’t normal for Samuel to be behaving so irate.

“Sam, what is going on with you,” the drummer questioned after pulling him aside from his brothers. Danny was prepared to get into an argument with his best friend, prepared to fight to get an answer out of him, but it seemed he didn’t need to.

“I’m having really bad withdrawals,” Sam sharply explained. He wasn’t lying, just omitting what he was feeling so deprived of.

Concern flashed across Daniel’s face before Sam turned around and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Danny called out after the bassist.

“For a walk,” he answered right before the hotel room door slammed behind him.

The muggy night air only added to Samuel’s irritation, the soupy air making it even harder for him to breathe. He didn’t even know where he was going, all he knew was that he needed to find someone and fast. He wandered the streets of Cincinnati, searching for the perfect victim. It took a while and he was starting to get severely agitated over it all. He got so annoyed that he in fact made a vital mistake; but he wouldn’t discover that until later.

Sam finally found someone walking alone in a part of the city that was dim enough so that any surveillance footage would be practically useless. She made the mistake of cutting through an alley, not even looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following. The moment she vanished from view was the moment Sam’s stride got faster, using those long legs of his to his advantage. He caught up with her soon enough, his arms wrapping around her waist and then her mouth to muffle her screams; as much as he wanted to hear them it was far too risky.

Once in his grasp, he wrangled her to the wall, throwing her against the brick before his hand found her mouth again. They were face to face, her eyes wide with fear and panic. He’d give anything to know what was going through her mind at that moment, but his withdrawals were far too strong to play such games as those. He pressed her against the wall for a few more seconds as he retrieved his weapon of choice: a screwdriver. It wasn’t ideal, but he was pressed and it was the best thing he could find on tour without having to spend money and leave a trace.

Finally in hand, Sam took the screwdriver and forced it into the spot where her neck and shoulder meets. Blood instantly bubbled out of her wound, his hand still pressed against her as she attempted to scream and fight him. He wasn’t focused on that. His attention was drawn to the way her life slowly eased out of the gaping wound and the spark of life extinguished from her eyes.

Finally, his insatiable need was quieted. He was breathing heavily, his euphoria thundering through his veins. He felt satisfied for the first time in months. He felt as if he could breathe, the oppressive need was no longer smothering him. Tipping his head back, he reveled in the feeling of freedom it gave him.

His craving satiated, Sam yanked the screwdriver out of his victim’s neck and watched as she slumped to the ground without his hands to support her weight. To throw the cops off even further, he riffled through her purse and removed her wallet. That way they would believe that it was a robbery gone wrong instead of a serial killer. He never used the money that he took from his victims as it would help the cops trace him down. Usually, he tossed them out the window of his tour bus or threw them in the incinerator of the venues he played.

With her wallet in his pocket, he walked away from the scene, careful not to take the same route he came. He didn’t know that an officer witnessed him walking out of that alley until years later.

+++

They were back in Cincinnati once again. It had been three years since Sam had killed that woman in the alley; a thought that placed a small phantom smile upon his lips each time it entered his conscious mind. There was a fleeting moment where he thought about visiting that alley again for old time’s sake, but he knew that was foolish.

This visit to the Ohio metropolis was considerably more relaxing for Sam than that last one was. He’d quenched his addiction a week before his return, marking that as his ninth victim. He was laying around their hotel room, staring at the ceiling and groaning about how bored he was. Daniel was in the room with him, laying on his own bed and reading a book while ignoring his best friend.

It was quiet in the room, save for the humming of the air conditioner in the room making the curtains billow. Sam hated the quiet. There was nothing to distract him from the haunting wails that were a persistent soundtrack to his waking moments. Their utter panic as they realized that their last moments would be spent with him. The guilt that maybe what he was doing was-

“If you’re so bored, go find something to do,” Danny suggested in a dismissive tone, beginning to be at his limits with Sam.

Sam looked over at Daniel, hanging his head off the side of the mattress. His long chestnut hair cascaded down against the stark white sheets, his eyes almost rolled into his head to properly see Danny from his position. His face was starting to turn red from all the blood rushing to his head.

“Fine. I’m going out,” he stated, springing up from his spot on the bed and began padding around his hotel room. He stripped himself of his casual white button up and tiny running shorts and replaced them with a nicer pair of black dress slacks and red satin shirt. Before Daniel could stop him, he was out the door.

He cabbed over to the nearest bar and upon entering, began scanning the room to see if there was anyone that could potentially fulfill his appetite - despite having claimed another life the week prior. Sam found it was the only thing that he found himself craving most of the time.

When he took that first vagrant’s life, he tried to satiate his desires with other things. But no matter how many women he slept with or illegal substances he filled his veins with, that craving wouldn’t go away. Once you taste the life, everything leaves you hungry.

Not finding anyone who suited his taste, Sam just sauntered over to the bar and ordered a drink. He finished that first drink when a woman dressed in a revealing dark forest green satin dress approached him. Immediately, Sam’s guard was up. He didn’t want to deal with fans tonight and even if she wasn’t a fan, there was something in the way she carried herself that seemed off. He kept scanning her, trying to figure out what it was about her when she talked to him.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” she prompted Sam, leaning against the bar in a way that made her breasts stand out. Sam huffed out a small laugh, figuring that he’d turn on the charm and solve her puzzle. It was something to pass the time, at the very least.

“Probably not. I’m here on business,” he explained. He didn’t want to give away too much information.

“Oooooooo, so he’s mysterious. C’mon, mystery man, what business are you on dressed like that?” she pushed, leaning in closer to him. Her drink was placed in front of her by the bartender.

“You’re telling me you know how to tell people’s jobs by how they dress?” Sam asked, thinking it would be a good way to try and prod her for information about herself.

For a second, her eyes flashed with something close to fear. But fear at what? Did he step too close to the truth?

“It’s something of a parlor trick of mine,” she explained away, taking a sip of her drink to buy her some time.

“Do go on,” Sam prompted, turning the situation around on her. Now he was the one in control of the situation and putting her on the spot.

The woman went on to point to different patrons and guess what profession they worked in based solely upon their appearance. There were a lot of different factors that played into her profiling, mostly how pricey their clothes and accessories were. It was when she got the person on her right spot on with his job that Sam finally figured it out.

“What’s your name, darling?”

She was a cop.

“Y/N.”

“I’m Sam. What do you say we get out of here?”

She accepted, following him out of the bar and flagging down a cab. During the car ride over, Sam texted Daniel to ask if he was in the room. He wasn’t.

It was a flurry of kissing and roaming touch once the door to his room was unlocked. She all but ripped Sam’s shirt off, throwing him onto the bed. She was quick to climb on top of him, straddling his hips and swallowing his breath out of his mouth when she pressed her lips back onto his. It happened so quickly and Sam was beginning to feel like he was getting whiplash.

He blames that on why he was so unprepared for there to be a knife against his throat.

“Alright, pretty boy. You’re gonna tell me where your murder weapons are, or I’m gonna have to put a hole through that gorgeous throat of yours,” she threatened, her demeanor completely changed over from the woman Sam met at the bar.

“You think I’m that pretty, huh?”

Without another word, she took the butt of the handle and cracked it across the high point of his cheekbone. It would leave a bruise.

“Shit! I thought cops couldn’t hit people like that!” he hissed, his hands up in surrender.

“Good thing I’m not a cop, then,” she haughtily replied, once again pressing the knife against his throat.

Sam just gave her a confused look as he tried to figure out who she was.

“It really is a good thing you’re pretty. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Once she revealed her profession, everything clicked into place.

“They don’t have any solid evidence on me, huh,” he taunted, his hands sliding underneath his head to prop it up.

“What makes you think that?” Her head cocked to the side, her overconfidence showing in that simple gesture.

“Well, if they’re sending you after me, the cops must be pretty desperate. Tell me, how did they name me as a suspect and for what murder?” He was stalling and they both knew it.

“Why the hell would I tell you?”

Sam chuckled dark and low. He was hardly intimidated by this woman, but he also needed to play his cards right. He needed to keep her talking; keep her distracted.

“I tell you what: you tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll give you something that you want. How does that sound, sweetheart?” He only ever used “sweetheart” when he was being condescending.

“Something I want, huh? And what might that be?” Her tone was sultry, almost like honey. It was a sharp contrast against the cold steel pressed into his flesh.

“What are they paying you? I can more than double it,” he offered, not even a hint of fear in his blood as she applied a little bit of pressure with the knife.

“Hmmm, cute. But I don’t need the money.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He really didn’t want to play by her rules, but he needed to know what the cops knew about him. “Fine. I’ll get you the murder weapon.”

“There we go, sweetheart. We have a deal,” she announced, refusing to remove the weapon from his throat.

“Start talking, doll. I have a show I need to be on stage for tomorrow, I can’t be here forever,” he impatiently prompted.

“You were spotted leaving the area of Chelsea Murdock’s murder around the estimated time of death by an officer on patrol that night,” she informed, her hair slipping off her shoulders as she leaned into his ear to speak again: “Not as invincible as you thought you were, huh, pretty boy?”

Sam growled in frustration. Of course the only time he slipped up was during the only murder he commited in Ohio.

“Now, get me that screwdriver, or I change the color of these sheets to red,” she hissed, sitting up properly and pressing the knife a little harder against Sam’s throat.

“You’re awfully cocky if you think I’m gonna do what you say,” Sam argued, his bratty streak still shining through despite the life threatening situation he was in. But, he really wasn’t concerned. You can’t kill a god.

“We had a deal, Samuel!” she bellowed, her other hand fisting into Sam’s hair in an extremely painful grip.

“That I never agreed to.”

Just when - for a fleeting moment - Sam thought that he was about to experience the last thing his victims experience before their lights went out, he was met with a warm spray of liquid against his face. That warmth then pooled onto his stomach as her blood flowed down her torso and onto Sam. He allowed himself to revel in the feeling of that crimson ichor blessing his skin; something he wasn’t allowed to experience very often in his life.

Her lifeless corpse slumped onto the bed to the left of Sam. He only knew that because he could feel her weight shifting the mattress. He had closed his eyes in order to properly enjoy his religious experience

“Sam?” It was shaky, but it didn’t sound afraid.

The bassist finally snapped his eyes open to see Daniel Wagner standing at the foot of the bed. There was a knife in his right hand that was covered in blood, the red staining his hand as well. There was a wild look in his eyes, but it wasn’t fear. He’d seen that look on Danny’s face after a really euphoric performance on stage.

Was that what I looked like after my first time?

“What are you feeling, Daniel?” he asked, out of breath. This truly was his dream come true.

The drummer looked at his right hand and gulped. It was shaking as he gazed upon it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the blood sluggishly dripping down his arm.

“Maybe there really is something to what you’ve been saying… Y’know, about feeling… god-like,” Danny answered. It was adamantly clear that he was very unsure about everything, but Sam would be there to coach him through it.

“I told you,” he began, his voice strained as he pushed the corpse off of him, “it’s an experience second to none.”

Danny was as rigid as a board as Sam approached him. His gaze was now locked onto the bounty hunter’s lifeless body, the gears turning inside that brilliant mind of his.

“What do we do now, Sam?” The tremor in his voice was slowly dissipating with each passing second.

“Now,” Sam took the knife out of Daniel’s hand, “we call the cops.” He pressed it against his lips under Danny’s watchful eye. Samuel watched as a shiver traveled across his best friend’s body, their eye contact unbroken.

They did call the cops. The pair of musicians explained that they had to kill her out of self-defense. She was trying to rob Sam, threatening him with a knife. She knew who he was and how successful he was. When Danny came into the room he did what he had to in order to save his best friend’s life.

The case went under investigation, but ultimately the murder was rulled in self-defense.

Sam Kiszka and Daniel Wagner got away with murder.

And they would continue to get away with murder.

+++

Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @kdarling1 @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka

Taglist form

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x y/n #sam kiszka x reader #sammy kiszka #sammy gvf #danny wagner #daniel robert wagner #danny gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #josh gvf #jake gvf #serial killer au

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rubyneo · 3 years ago

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Making a new pinned post bc I lost my other one. Basic info can be found in my bio 🥰

I'm Cherry/Cj/Sage (they/them) and I'm your friendly local artist/writer/editor/general nuisance.

I post a lot about R/WBY, but you'll also be able to find posts about a lot of other stuff (S/PN, Ha/nnibal, 911, M/DZS, DC comics, etc)

I use tags for my mutuals and friends! Generally by name, but if I'm talking about multiple or in general I use the tag my internet mutual polycule is better than yours.

Bastardmance tag is for my wife Daisy/Rose moonedknights <3

I also have an untagged queue running with mainly aesthetic posts. (Sometimes I tag these, and you can find them under cj.aes, words, and poetry)

I tag vent-y/annoyed posts with cj.vent and salt tag, so you can filter those if you don't want to see those posts.

CHERRY BRANWYNS R/WBY FANDOM INDISCRETIONS:

if you're here because of the fallout between blaire tran/sjnpr and i last year: yes im still a big meanie who hates fun and popular ships, yes im still a nasty "panphobe" who thinks pansexuality and bisexuality are the SAME THING and pan people owe bi people $30 every time they say otherwise. here's my venmo for that :)

if you're here because of my past bmb/lb edits, posts, stories, headcanons, or the bee bible itself: im not a bee shipper anymore, though i can occasionally be convinced to make edits of them for friends or nice anons.

if you're here because you want to see if im a mean nasty little anti: bro i genuinely do not care anymore if i dont like you im gonna block and move on. if i dont like the content you produce im gonna block and move on. its very simple. dont bother me and im not gonna bother you. im 21 i dont care about pro v anti discourse anymore i just wanna make my blorbos kiss

if youre here because of ladybug: hiiii <3 please go pre-order the zine <3

if youre here because of the ECM weirdo freak post, yes i still think he is.

I DO unironically ship Qrow/Tyrian now. Cry about it <3

I think Sno/wfall is boring. It was cool at first but y'all had to make it a bland ass ship.

I've had this particular blog since November 2018, there's opinions on here that I don't hold anymore. I'm now a Cinder and Mercury fan, I think Cinder AND Salem are getting redeemed.

I still view Roman and Neo through a platonic lense and I don't take Roman Holiday as "canon" because of the stuff outlined in those linked posts.

Subsection of the above: I still think Neo is roughly the same age as the rest of the protagonists. (So 19-21)

I am a big meanie who hates popular ships. BB is boring, NND is interesting through a lense of Salem/Ozma's pattern being repeated and perhaps the issue of whether to bring Penny back or not giving the heroes sympathy for Salem's tragedy, FG was boring, WR is cool when my friends talk about it but too many of you are weird about it.

OTHER:

If you're here because of my donation post for my kitten: hi! Bumble went in for his surgery on 03/03/2022 and is healing at home. My mother loaned me $1k to pay it off and I'll be paying her back as I can.

I'm mainly a mobile user, so I may not notice if I've reblogged from someone nasty, so please feel free to send me an ask with a description of/link to the post and I'll happily delete it.

Trigger tagging: I TRY to remember to tag stuff, but I'm often using the fast reblog and queue functions so I'll probably miss things. Please let me know if you need something specific tagged.

Bi vs Pan discourse: I'm panphobic now.

Slurcourse: Stop trying to gatekeep slurs from people who are targeted by them 😭😭😭 Bi women are called the d slur, any flavor of gay person is called the f slur, cis people arent going to ask if im transfemme or transmasc before calling me the t slur when they find out i'm trans. The q slur is a slur as much as it's an identity.

Subset of the above: Use whatever identifier makes you feel comfortable, don't call ME q***r. Posts with it are tagged "q word" for blacklist usually.

Just...show respect and compassion for other people and don't call people slurs without their permission.

#cj.txt #don't rb

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the-breloominati · 4 years ago

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With respect, please don’t send me personal donation asks. I’m not posting them, and I will block you.

This post has links to several subreddits people can post to if they are in need of financial assistance:

Moving this to the top of my pinned so hopefully people will see it before they send me an ask. Apologies if you genuinely need financial assistance, but there are people who try to take advantage of and exploit other’s good faith and I don’t have the energy to scroll through and try to vett every blog that comes my way.

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Somewhere you can donate to help provide relief for the people in Gaza:

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Please take care of yourselves 💕

More mental health and stuff carrds

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tried to clean this up a little since I was already editing it >.>

The info about my blogs and tags is under the cut! (tired of scrolling through this every time I refresh my blog-)

All my sideblogs:

@siaku-fr : my flight rising sideblog. i reblog flight rising art on both, but fr stuff that isn't art gets yeeted over there

@ghasts-scare-me : my minecraft sideblog that I barely use

@searingsalad-liowolvden : my lioden and wolvden sideblog. again, i'll probably reblog art on both, but ld/wd stuff that isn't art gets put over there

@do-breloom-dream-of-fungal-sheep : my dream journal/archive sideblog. putting my dream posts over there in case the search tool gets weird. all of my previous posts have been reblogged with their original tags (for convenience)

@dumb-bastard-juice : an ask blog for my sonas (currently empty, might start working on it once unus annus is over)

How I tag things:

Every time I update this section, I'll make a post about to (hopefully, I can't guarantee you'll see it) let y'all know!

NSFW stuff

the "mild nsfw" tag is gonna be the catch-all for stuff that's like.. not necessarily explicit I guess? but still kinda nsfw-y (trying to figure out how to organize this >.<)

the "nsfw text" tag is for.. mild nsfw text I guess?

the "nsfw" tag will be for stuff that's like.. actually explicit. Probably not gonna use it all that often, but I had that one markiplier post in the queue and it was tagged accordingly.

Please block all of the above tags if you don't want to see that stuff.

Trigger warnings:

blood: tagged "blood tw"

gore: tagged "gore tw"

organs: tagged "organs". things that aren't really gore but contain/talk about organs

decay: tagged only "decay". "gore" didn't really feel like the right tag for some stuff? So I'm adding this one. Pretty self-explanatory I think? Bones and rot probably

animal death: will be tagged both "animal death" and "animal death tw"

body horror: tagged "body horror"

insects: tagged "insects tw"

bugs: tagged "bugs tw"

spiders: tagged "spiders tw"

Please note that these are the things I currently tag for regularly; if there's anything you want/need me to tag (or if i reblogged a post you didn't want to be reblogged), please let me know!

Not trigger warnings, but still important:

horror: things that are either spooky or unsettling; may often also be tagged aongside "creepy"

creepy: usually the more unsettling things

Posts may also be tagged "spooky" or "bad for sleep".

cursed: usually thing that are just cursed; also includes things somewhere between ew and eugh. Be warned that there may be some really eugh stuff in there.

Please feel free to let me know if I should start tagging other kinds of discourse and/or if I should tag them more specifically.

General tags:

life tips: general things that would probably be pretty useful at some point in life (like tutorials or stuff to generally keep in mind)

important life tips: things are probably too important to have to scroll through the "life tips" tag looking for them (usually relating to health and safety and stuff)

very important life tips: usually things relating to what to do in dangerous situations (I think I have a post about what to do if someone's drowning in there somewhere?)

note: all posts tagged important/very important life tips will also be tagged in the more general "life tips" tags above it in this list

art tips: like "life tips" but for art! has tutorials and guides and stuff in it

oh hey look it my art tag: my art tag :o

a fungus plays [insert game here]: my tag for yelling about games that I'm playing! mostly just pokemon rom hacks at the moment I think. Games will be listed as [franchise name] [game name]; for example: # a fungus plays pokemon fool's gold

a fungus watches [insert series here]: the tag where I scream about shows/series I'm watching! Names will usually be shortened to their acronyms or shortened forms; ex: # a fungus watches atla

a fungus reads/rereads [insert written media name here]: where I scream about books and manga I'm reading (probably fanfiction as well at some point)! Will most likely be tagged with the full title of the work.

this is my hole it was made for me: "I'm in this picture and I don't like it" but make it ✨individual✨

crying over spilt time: my personal Unus Annus tag

#i'll update this if i make any new blogs #we got the tags section babey!!#i think that covers all of the important ones..

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qualquercoisa945 · 5 years ago

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could you love this? would this one be right? well if i'm being honest, i'm hoping it might

AO3 link

Title Inspiration- If I'm Being Honest by Dodie

so. here we are. last chapter, huh? we've come a long way, honestly- can you believe it's been six months?- and i've changed a lot since the first chapter. not just as a writer, but as a person. and this is gonna sound sappy, but i owe a lot of it to this fic. it's the first multi-chapter i've finished and the first fic i've ever posted. i don't know where i'd be without it- and quite honestly, i don't want to know. but i do have some people to thank, in no particular order (and these are all tumblr urls so just bear with me here). first of all, one of, if not the first person to ever know of this fic's existence, @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts, who was the actual sweetest when reacting to it and was one of the main forces behind me beginning to post my stuff. thank you so much for everything, i owe you so much 💙💖 then, the actual ray of sunshine who beta-read through this fic, @lailaliquorice, who has been nothing but a positive force in my life and is just an all around great friend and is again, an actual ray of sunshine personified. so laila, thank you for everything and i hope i get to hold you again soon, sunshine 💖💙 next, @i-was-a-writer, someone who's been nothing but supportive and enthusiastic about everything i've told them about, and who's helped me keep a level head when my mind decided to be bitch so many times. thank you for helping me and supporting me, rico, i'm so glad you're in my life 💙💖 but obviously this wouldn't be complete with the actual angel in my life who's been there for me since fucking day one, @the-quiet-winds. when i first dmed you julie, with that crappy ass maragon fic, i had no clue that i would find one of the most supportive and fantastic people in my life. i'm not joking when i say that you've changed my life. i love you so fucking much my angel, you're the best older sister i could ever ask for 💖💙 and last but definitely not least, you all, who have read, liked, reblogged and commented on any of my fics. i wouldn't be where i am today without you all, and thank you all for giving me a reason to keep on posting them. i love you all 💙💖 i'll probably rewrite this fic eventually. i've considered maybe from a different point of view? we'll see. but for now, this is the end. so with all the sappy stuff out of the way, sit back and enjoy the last chapter of the kitty snaps fic. it's been a wild ride, but a good one. thank you all for everything 💖💙

Trigger Warnings- Hospitals, mentions of appendicitis, surgery, and stabbing in the context of a metaphor. As always, ask me to tag anything

The day had started… Well, definitely not well, considering her and Kitty’s… situation, but not terribly, all things considered. At least, Jane had managed to stick to her usual routine, which considering how chaotic things had been lately, was a win in her books.

Well, until she’d gotten that phonecall while on her way back to the theatre from her break between the two shows. She’d nearly let her phone fall right then and there as she heard Cathy retell how Kitty had fainted and how she’d had to call an ambulance, and that they were currently on their way to the hospital.

As soon as she knew where they were heading, Jane made her way to her car, not daring to hang up in case she’d miss any updates from Cathy, just barely keeping herself from speeding there as she drove to the hospital.

She was just barely out of the car when she noticed Cathy running over, and swiftly she pulled her bandmate into a hug, that was cut short by the latter pulling away. “It’s appendicitis.” Cathy explained without much pretense, and Jane herself could only barely mask her panic. “She’s in surgery right now.”

She felt Cathy’s hand give her own a light squeeze as, at least she assumed, her expression begin in morph into one of panic. “Hey, breathe. Times have changed, love, especially in this regard. It’ll be alright.”

Jane forced herself to take in a deep breath, nodding quickly. “Right, well, let’s go in, yes?”

The time spent in a waiting room felt like torture for Jane. The other queens had tried to get her mind out of it, but eventually they’d had to go on and thus it was just her and Cathy, whose mood wasn’t much better than her own. Finally, she resorted to simply watching the time, waiting in silence as she tried not to slip into panic.

She looked up from her lap when she hear three sets of footsteps rush over, watching as Catherine, Anne and Anna rushed over. She vaguely listened as Cathy gave them the same explanation she’d given Jane, before they all sat down near them. To her surprise, she noticed Anne sit down on her free side, and then they all fell into silence.

It was a few minutes later when she felt a light tap on her knee, and she looked up to face Anne, who nodded towards the door before getting up- a silent invitation for her to follow.

So she did. Jane followed Anne outside, and they stood there in silence for a moment before the latter spoke. “How’re you holding up?”

Jane couldn’t help but role her eyes at that. “Take a guess.” She muttered out, a seldom-heard bitterness lacing her words.

“Welcome to the club.” Anne replied with a shrug, leaning against the wall. They fell into silence for a while longer, before Anne spoke up again. “I’m not gonna say all that “oh, times have changed” bullshit because you and I both know that’s not gonna help. But Kitty’s tough, even if she doesn’t seem like it. She’ll be alright.” Anne seemed to pause for a minute, and Jane opened her mouth to speak before she continued. “And if you need to talk about it, which no one can blame you for, we’re all here for you.”

Jane nodded, but whatever she was going to give as a reply disappeared when she noticed Catherine go through the doors.

“Jane, she’s awake, and she’s looking for you.”

Kath had woken up to dull noises and a hazy vision. She just barely remembered asking for Jane, but now that she was slightly more awake and sitting on the hospital bed cross legged, she couldn’t help but lightly bite her bottom lip in anxiety as she waited for Jane to come.

If she did come.

The thought snaked its way into her mind nearly silently, only to immediately hit her like a truck. Would Jane want to come see her? After her outburst, and her behaviour following it… She couldn’t help but worry, wrapping her arms around her waist as tightly as she could without it hurting.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of the door opening, and she swallowed dryly as she waited to see who it was.

And it was Jane.

Kath wasn’t quite sure what went through her mind once she’d seen her. All she knew was that a sudden wave of emotions hit her far too quickly, and a word she’d been wanting to say for god knew how long finally made its way out her mouth.

“Mama.”

She wasn’t sure what Jane’s immediate reaction had been, but she did remember quiet footsteps hurrying over, and a gentle kiss being pressed on the top of her head, followed by a dip on the mattress next to her and Jane pulling her into her hold, which she sunk into, her face buried in Jane’s shoulder as she let out a week’s worth of emotions through her tears.

“I’ve got you, love.” Jane’s voice felt just a bit more distant than it should be, and so Kath pulled her tighter, whimpering softly. “It’s alright.” She focused on Jane’s soft touches and words, using them to keep herself grounded as she cried in Jane’s hold.

As the tears slowly started to slow, Kath’s hold on Jane slackened while she slowly, slowly processed just what she’d called Jane before her outburst. Once it hit, though, she all but jumped out of Jane’s arms, not even able to look Jane in the eyes as she mumbled out a teary “I’m sorry.”

“What for, love?” Jane’s gentle yet confused tone only served to push the metaphorical knife deeper into her heart, twisting it around so it’d cause her even more agony.

“For calling you…” Kath gave a sideways nod, hoping Jane would get the message. It would seem she did, though her response was nothing like the one Kath had been expecting.

“Oh, darling…” Kath froze when Jane cupped her cheek, finally looking up to meet Jane’s soft gaze. “It’s alright, dear. I’m not mad.”

“You should be!” Kath finally exclaimed, sitting up straight. Jane recoiled her hand in shock, and so Kath made herself slow down a bit. “I was awful to you last week. An- And I’ve been ignoring you ever since and I-”

“Kitty.” Jane’s firm yet soft voice snapped her out of her reverie, getting her to focus on Jane. “You were understandably angry, love. I should have listened to you, and I’m sorry you felt like you had to lash out for us to listen. And…” Jane paused then, and Kath braced herself for the worst.

“And you’re right.” She blinked at that reply, tipping her head to the side ever so slightly. “You’re right, he wasn’t- he didn’t love us.” Jane finally murmured out, and it was then Kath noticed an odd sort of vulnerability that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen on the eyes of the third queen.

“M- I mean, Jane-” “If you want to call me mum, you can.” Jane interjected softly, giving Kath a soft smile when she looked up in shock. “I mean it, love. We can ignore it and pretend it never happened, or, if you’d like, you can call me it. Whatever you’re comfortable with, love.”

Kath found herself pondering on that for a few moments, she’d wager maybe a minute, then nodded and fell back against Jane. “Well, mum,” she spoke the word slowly, almost hesitantly, but the light squeeze from Jane’s arm around her shoulders pushed her to continue, “it’s alright. And, I’m sorry for losing my cool like that.”

She felt herself relax even further into Jane’s embrace, struggling to keep her eyes open as emotional and physical exhaustion began to seep in after the incredibly loaded conversation she’d just had. She perked slightly when she felt a light pressure on top of her head. “Sleep, my little love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jane’s soft words were all she needed to fully relax, and although she didn’t feel like everything was fine just yet, she felt like things were heading there. Slowly, but surely, she’d get there, she found herself promising to herself, no matter how long it took.

#six the musical #six fanfiction #katherine howard #jane seymour #catherine parr #anne boleyn #but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand

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