#the fact that Killer wasn’t even given a choice

[therubberducklad]

something new

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 7)

Wherein Kei contemplates punching people. Not even all of the same people as a second ago.

(a rather intense thing I've been saving up for, since my birthday was a bit busy.)

Across the way—and notably between Kei and the first guy who’d been stabbed—Stain chose this moment to break into the conversation. “So, you knew your friend might seek me out?” Stain asked, still leaning forward into a clearly aggressive stance. “And you showed up to save your friend’s life. You even made a big entrance. But I have a duty to kill him and this so-called pro. When your friend chose to fight me, it guaranteed that the weaker one would be culled.” 

Oh good, a zealot. 

“So, what will you do?” Stain growled.

While Midoriya reached back for his phone, Kei stepped up as a distraction and delivered the most carefully neutral sentence of her entire stay in Tokyo: “I’ll make you a better offer. If you back away now, we’ll let you go.” 

Iida couldn’t jolt and didn’t swear, but the next words out of his mouth were a betrayed, “Gekkō-san, no!” 

“Either he’ll leave and get caught by someone like Endeavor, or he won’t, and we’ll fight,” Kei said quietly, “and I’m not afraid to fight.” She sounded mostly like she was leaning on her nonexistent PR training, but with four witnesses, she couldn’t just grab the man and make him eat pavement without even a token attempt at negotiating. 

Sure, she hadn’t given that first Nōmu a chance, but he’d also been in the process of beating Aizawa to death at the time. Like with Midoriya’s opening punch tonight, stopping an ongoing attack mattered more than manners.  

And besides… “He’s human enough to have a choice.” 

Not a chance. Because he didn’t. But a choice. 

If the Hero Killer committed to attacking, then he earned the right to suffer consequences. 

And Stain pulled a knife in addition to his word, which was as good as proof that a) free will was wasted on him and b) he had no idea what Kei’s “Quirk” was. Kei doubted Midoriya or Iida could actually see the movement, between the darkness and the fact that Stain was generally pretty sneaky about it, but it did mean that she had little interest in negotiating further. 

“Listen to me!” Iida insisted. Agonized, angry, and unable to do anything about either. “Stand down and run away. I told you, this has nothing to do with you!” 

“If you really believe all of that, then why are you trying to become a hero in the first place!” Midoriya snapped at Iida, silencing him. As he raised his fists into a ready stance, he muttered, “There are plenty of things I have to say, but they’ll have to wait.” Then, louder: “All Might was right, though. Meddling where you don’t have to is the essence of being a hero!” 

Oddly, that appeared to strike more of a chord with the serial killer than the hero student still on the ground. Stain’s lack of a nose—seamlessly so—actually made his grin dominate his features more than anybody without a mutation Quirk. And Kei counted that skull-faced kid in 1-B when making that judgment.

Midoriya lit up in green sparks again. He could launch the second Stain blinked. 

Stain shifted to meet the inevitable charge, already swinging his katana.

Kei made the Dog hand seal and flooded the alleyway forward of her position half a meter deep, careful not to risk drowning Iida. And while both Midoriya and Stain paused to recalculate their traction, Kei flowed through four other hand seals and shoved her clasped hands forward with her chakra firmly behind the movement. Isobu’s strength backed her all the way.

Water Release: Water Wall. 

The entire alleyway was suddenly flooded. Kei kicked her way upright with the patience of an apex predator as her costume’s flowing bits trailed behind her. 

Suffice it to say that nobody got to move without her permission. 

While Kei took the time to form air bubbles around the heads of each participant in their backstreet brawl, her strength now ruled. If the USJ Nōmu wasn’t able to escape her grip despite being geared toward fighting All Might, nobody here had a shot. Especially not a pissy murderer who wore that much metal. With a wave of her hand, Kei yanked Native and his cloud of water-dispersed blood back toward safety, shoved Stain toward the other end of the street, and reeled Midoriya in all at once. Within thirty seconds, she’d entirely rearranged the battlefield so that her charges were behind her while the only legitimate target was in front. 

Though the water did represent a minor communication problem. 

It would not for you alone. 

Unfortunately, allies also make very good witnesses. 

Kei pushed forward until she could lock her hand around the immobile Hero Killer’s throat. She didn’t yank him out of the water, but instead formed a Water Prison around him and dismissed most of the excess from her direct control. With it mostly rushing downhill, the sudden wave would miss Iida and Native and likely end up somewhere more useful, such as within Manual’s range. 

“So,” Kei said, as mild as if they were talking about the weather. Drawing Stain’s face partially out of the Water Prison, she flicked water off her other hand. “How’s this working out for you, Hero Killer?”

Stain took a moment to cough. Sure, he spat water out so it almost reached her face, because Kei had been a little less careful with his breathing than the others’, but perhaps that was the cost of this restraint tactic. His lack of a nose did not help. Then: “If I die purging the world of the unworthy, then so be it. Nothing is more of a stain on this world than the festering corruption of a society that ruined the name ‘hero.’ It falls to me to teach you all a lesson.” 

Kei sighed. Half the reason she’d grabbed this big fish physically came down to the possibility he’d bite her, but she didn’t actually enjoy playing straitjacket for a murderous shithead. “Get a license and then we’ll talk.”

“How long can you hold him there, Gekkō-san?” Midoriya asked as he darted over to check on Native and on Iida. His entire hero outfit made squelching noises as he moved, but Kei didn’t have the time to fix that for him yet. 

“Long enough.” Which translated to “until she got interrupted,” which was standard for the Water Prison technique and a shinobi with Kei’s huge chakra reserves. “But if I do lose my grip, I’m probably going to punt him over a building,” Kei admitted, “just to get him out of our way.” 

“Okay. Then, when you drop it, can you grab Native? I can take Iida-kun.” 

Well, assuming the Hero Killer didn’t try to live up to his name… “Should be fine.” 

There was the occasional clanking sound as Midoriya got each of the others into a rescue position. Native tried to talk him into just calling for a pro to help, but knowing that the entirety of Hosu was already being attacked and the emergency responders were tied up put a mild hole in that plan. Midoriya even said so. For some reason, that worried Native a little less than the serial killer Kei had already subdued. Maybe that was proximity talking.

But more piercing than that was Iida’s protest. “Gekkō-san—if he’d hurt your brother, you can’t tell me you’d just walk away from this!” 

It rang through Kei’s skull for a moment. Like a flashbang. Her left hand twitched with the urge to make a fist. 

Fuck him for bringing up Hayate right now, was Kei’s initial thought once the ringing stopped, but she stomped it down as spiteful and unworthy. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in a crisis threw her weaknesses back in her face.

At least you know what they are, and that they are unreachable.

“Tensei didn’t deserve that,” Iida continued, still as angry, still as heartbroken. His voice cracked. “The—the only reason the Hero Killer lashed out at him was because he was a legacy hero! For wanting to make our family proud. All my brother ever did was help people!”

And the Hero-Killer scoffed, as though annoyed that Iida still had enough sense left after percolating in vengeance to call him on his bullshit. “From impure motives—”

Kei shoved Stain’s face back underwater rather than let him finish that sentence. He’d survive, but Iida didn’t need to hear his spewing hatred any longer. Then Kei glanced back over her shoulder toward her companions, while Midoriya got the other two into rescue positions for an easy grab-and-go option. Perfect for fleeing upset heroes and angry murderers as needed. 

[theycallmequeenie]

Lexi And Happy

Master List

P1, P2, P3, P4, P5, P6, P7, P8, P9, P10, P11, P12, P13, P14, P15.

Part 16

A/N: And here we are with the next part of Lexie and Happy’s story. No, I will not accept the events of the Mayans and will not be righting as such. Happy is alive and will get his well-deserved Happily Ever After. As always Happy Reading.

Lexie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Happy’s expression. That sly little smile had always made her heat flutter. She let out part of a giggle at Happy’s words. She knew for a fact that Hap wasn’t wrong, Tig would do just that if he returned home from work to find that Lexie wasn’t in her room again. She nodded, offering up a small grin herself. 

Happy took that as his cue to jump out and help Lexie out of the passenger seat. He was around the car and at her door in a few seconds. His long legs and light jog aided in that. He got to her door and opened it for her knowing she was still figuring out how to work around her broken arm. He knew that had to be frustrating her and judging by the look mild irritation on her face he was right in that. He reached out to help Lexie down out of the SUV but paused for a moment as Lexie gently tugged on his cut pulling him in enough for her to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. An action that was a rarity between the two of them. With the two of them it was always the forehead kisses when the two exchanged loving, innocent gestures. The quick peck surprised Happy, but he didn’t miss a beat and returned the affection with a quick peck on her forehead before scooping her up and lifting her out of her seat. 

With a low rumble in his chest he chuckled, “See Little Girl, I still got you, Baby. It wasn’t just the adrenaline that night.” As he set her back down on to her feet with a triumphant smirk on his face after hearing her attempt to protest stopping short.

Lexie tried to protest him lifting her up bridal style, but she stopped as soon as she started. Hearing him call her Baby for the first time since well before she left caught her right in the nostalgia. Him calling her that took her back to being twenty years old and head over heels in love with a leather clad biker who would often only let her see the gentleness in him. She knew what he did for the Sons, she had known from essentially the time she met him that he did in fact live up to the club’s nickname for him. 

It should have bothered her enough to keep her distance from the man everyone around her called the Tacoma Killer, but it didn’t nor did knowing that was a well-earned nickname and not a facetious one given in jest. Not even her uncle could sway her intrigue in the man. Her heart decided not to give anyone a choice in the matter including her.

A yawn pulled her out of her thoughts, and she locked eyes with Happy as his deep brown ones, that were filled with concern, looked into her green ones. Knowing what he was about to ask she placed the hand that wasn’t in a cast on his chest to reassure him as she spoke to him.

“Hap I’m okay, when you called me baby it just brought back some nostalgia and I got lost in my own head for a moment thinking about where we started.” She had to pause because of another yawn. “Maybe we should get me in there and situated enough for a nap. This morning took more out of me than I had anticipated.”

That was all Happy needed to hear he stepped to her steady side and put an arm around her lower back touching her just enough to let her know he’s there to support her if she needs it. It took them a little longer than the normal because of how sore her body still was. Happy understood it but it upset Lexie because she hated not being one hundred percent. Happy knew that too and did his best to encourage her and distract her from getting frustrated or upset by her slowed movement. 

Slowly and gently, they made it into Tig and V’s home and back to Lexie’s room Hap had just gotten Lexie seated on the edge of the bed. As he started looking for something more comfortable for her to sleep in V had lightly knocked on the doorway.

“Hey sweetheart, just got off the phone with Tig. He was checking in to see if you had gotten here yet and asked me to check on how you were feeling after your big day out.” She spoke with her thick southern draw but in a soft gentle tone with a matching smile. 

“Hey, Aunt V.” Lexie responded sounding as tired as she felt and most likely looked. She reached up and grabbed the hair tie that had been holding her hair up in its messy bun all morning. “Not going to lie to anyone, this morning did take more out of me than I thought it would. Wonder if this is how seniors feel after their field trips from their nursing homes.” Lex paused again as Happy handed her what he had found for her to sleep in and as Lexie nodded to thank him, she looked back to V and decided to ask her something, “V? do you think you could maybe call Tig back and see if he’d be okay if you took the SUV back to get him or if he would be willing to drive the tow truck back? I kinda don’t want Hap to leave me…” 

Lexie looked at V with a childlike pleading expression on her face. Venus made a note to herself that it looked just like Tig’s ‘please don’t leave me’ face he made at her years ago. She nodded with a loving smile “Sure thing Darlin’. I’ll go do that now and let Happy help you change and get you comfortable, and I’ll be back in a few minutes with your meds, your usual peanut butter sandwich to help avoid any stomach upset, and an answer for you.” V gave Lexie a reassuring smile before she walked away. 

Lexie offered a slightly louder thank you to Venus as she walked down the hall to make the call she was met with a muffled ‘yep’ from V. Lexie looks up at Happy with a defeated grin, “Well Ole Man, I know you don’t enjoy undressing me and not getting to reap the benefits of it but I sorta need some help…” she looked up at him with an imploring expression on her face. Knowing he would but she also knew what she was doing would help pad his male ego.

Hap knew what she was doing too. Trying to look as helpless and pitiful as she could just to get a little bit of skin-to-skin contact with him. She would do something similar when they first got together that virginal innocence had her too bashful to initiate much of anything in the very beginning. It was something new to Happy and if he were honest with himself, it was exciting for him. 

He could see that the Lexie he loved back then was returning to him and the distant broken Lexie that had just up and left everyone and everything she loved and knew was fading away. Happy didn’t want to allow himself to get his hopes up just yet but Lexie was encouraging those hopes anyway. He wanted nothing more than his Ole Lady back under his roof and in his arms. H still wanted the life they had been working toward all those years ago to come to fruition. He wanted those years they had lost back; he knew that could never happen. Time was the one thing nobody ever got back. Not even the Sons Of Anarchy could make that happen. 

He shook his head to clear the train of thought and offered Lexie a loving smile, “Lex, Babe, I’m a guy, even if the things that cross my mind are off limits my Ole Lady naked in front of is still the most beautiful thing, I would ever want to lay eyes on.” He kissed her forehead and helped her undress noting that he felt her lean into his touch when his hands would brush over her skin.

As he helped her with removing the clothes she wore to the shop that day and helped her into a light blue sleeveless cotton sleep shirt that, due to her short stature, stopped mid shin on her where it would normally stop at the knees for taller women. He stopped and noticed what design that night shirt had on it and smiled.

In the center of the chest there was a screen-printed collage of the Hanna Barbera cartoon characters. Everyone from Fred Flintstone and Scooby-Doo to George Jetson and The Smurfs. He looked at the image taking it in and naming all the characters in his mind before chuckling and shaking his head saying, “That’s My girl.” More to himself than to Lexie.

Once she had the sleepshirt on and was as comfortable as she could on the bed, seated up right with her back up against the simplistic white oak headboard she looked up at Happy and asked him if he would stay with her. She gave no hint as to if she meant just that night or in general. The hell she went through has her mind in all different directions at once and even she wasn’t exactly sure what she was asking for at that moment either all she knew was that she didn’t want him to leave her sight for even a moment. She had exhausted herself to the point she was being needy and clingy with him. 

A rare thing for either of them to experience she wasn’t very often needy or clingy with him in the nonsexual sense. She would always get needy with him when it pertained to his expertise in the bedroom. He only ever needed to look at her with the half-lidded lust blown eyes and she would be all but begging for him, but this, this was new. 

He thought on it a moment or two before he realized what and why it was. She needed to feel safe and having him to hold onto while she slept and feeling him there with her was her way of feeling safe it always had been. He felt like an idiot and was mentally starting to beat himself up when Venus interrupted his thoughts with another light knock on the doorway with a small plate with a peanut butter sandwich and her meds in one hand bottle of water in the other.

“Hey there you two! Miss Lexie, I have your meds and the sandwich you’re about to turn into and Hap, I’ve got a message for you. Tig wants you to call him as soon as you can. I’ll stay here with my lovely niece.”

Her thick southern draw and semi forced smile red flagged with Lexie and had her sitting up in alarm, her mind racing to jump to conclusions. The color drained from her face as she spoke “Oh no, no what?”

To Be Continued…

Part 17

@camelia35

[jacksope-lives]

A meta-analysis on Emma-May and the treatment of women in media and fandom

Okay so this has been on my mind for a while but fuck it Emma-May Dixon/Mcgucket analysis. For a character we know nothing about, I think about her all the time, and when I think about her, I get genuinely frustrated by the way the narrative and the fandom treats her in general. Either she’s a non-existent character whose erased or ignored for the sake of keeping their shipping of Fiddleford completely pure and fine, OR she’s villainized as being a horrible wife/ made into a poor ignorant beard in order to progress the male characters narratives. 

I actually deeply hate both of these interpretations, and I know people who do this are simply doing it so they can enjoy their ships or whatever, but turning a female character into a prop like that is incredibly frustrating and gross to me in general. So, based on the limited information we have about her, I want to throw my hat into the ring and share my thoughts about Emma-May and her relationship to her son and ex-husband outside whoever people want Fiddleford to be shipped with instead.

For one, I think it doesn’t go acknowledged enough that she was a single mother for the vast majority of her son's life. Considering both the time period, and the fact that due to the implication via her name that she is also from the south, she was likely a stay-at-home mom prior to becoming a single mom. Into the 70s most women were still homemakers, especially those in more rural traditional locations. There is no doubt in my mind that the struggle of entering the workforce after having been out of work as a mother, in a society which is incredibly disgusted by that idea, was deeply traumatic and terrifying for her, not to mention the stigma surrounding divorce she likely had to endure as well.

Moreover, I think it's likely that her choice to divorce Fiddleford was one made on her own (for reasons I’ll get into shortly) and I think the common interpretation I’ve seen in shipping contexts where he wants to leave her to he can go be with one of the Stan twins is… flawed, to say the least. Specifically, given we know from ”Legend of the Gobblewonker” that Fiddleford created a killer robot in response to being served with divorce papers we can infer that it was likely not a mutual decision, and also likely one made at the point where Fiddleford is long gone in terms of mental capacity. This to me indicates it wasn’t something that happened shortly after the end of his time with Ford, as “Society of the Blind Eye” shows us that it took several months to years before the effects of the memory gun fully materialized.

Her choice to return to her maiden name would also have been deeply shocking for the time and situation she was living in, and that to me speaks to the idea that she is both deeply resilient and also to the idea that she was deeply hurt by making this choice. Honestly, even in fan works which do include her as a character, she’s typically not shown as being particularly angry at Fiddleford for blowing up her life and leaving her a single mom, either being absent or being waved off as being okay with it. This is, in my opinion, just an extension of the narrative’s choice to treat her as a nonentity, and fandom’s tendency to ignore or erase female characters who are “in the way” of their ships.

Despite what seems to be fandom consensus that Fiddleford is gay and closeted, and his marriage to her is essentially a one-sided lavender marriage, I actually don’t agree. This isn’t to say that I disagree with the idea of shipping Fiddleford with the Stan twins on principle, I don’t. Rather, I think the problems in their marriage don’t stem from a fundamental incapability in terms of sexuality, nor do I think Fiddleford was simply using her to cover for his true desire to be with men. In fact, I do think he loved Emma-May and I think she deeply loved him, which is what makes the results of everything else so much more tragic. Frankly, I think Fiddleford’s choice to “abandon” his family wasn’t seen as that to either of them when it began.

Instead, I think it was seen as an opportunity to further his field, and being a loving and supportive wife, she approved of the idea. I think this is further supported by the mention in Journal 3 that Fiddleford keeps a portrait of her and their son on his desk to “remind him of what’s important”. Fiddleford is definitely a bad husband, but I don’t think those traits reflect negatively on Emma-May, either as a wife or as someone oblivious to the fact that her husband can’t love her the way she deserves to be loved. I see Emma-May as a character who is often unfairly ignored or maligned for the sake of slash-shipping, which is unfortunately deeply common for female characters in fandom.

I perceive her character as being a strong and resilient woman thrust into the workforce and single-motherhood in a time when both of those things were even more difficult than they are now. A woman who lost her husband not to an affair or incompatible sexualities but to a profound mental illness. A woman for whom divorce was not a desirable outcome or even a freeing one, but an unfortunate necessity and one that wasn’t wholeheartedly accepted by the man she likely still loved on some level. And I personally find this character far more interesting than being a blank slate, oblivious beard, or nonentity erased for the sake of shipping her husband with whatever Pines twin the fandom is gushing over this week.

[sephirothsplaything]

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 9

A/N: Honestly I meant to put this out way earlier but i forgot! We are almost done with season one! This chapter features an unlikely duo.

TW: Blood, violence,slight gore

The night sky swirled into obscurity as Rhaella lay naked in the grass. The trees towering overhead shielded her from the soft beams of moonlight.

It was another dream. An occurrence she had grown used to. The unanswered questions had become common, leaving her frustrated and unsatisfied. 

There was a certain freedom, being confined to her mind this way. Rhaella stood to her feet, leisurely walking through the forest.

“Follow my voice.” The sound hissed, passing her by. 

Like many times before, she had no choice but to follow.

Rhaella found herself at the edge of a cliff, staring the water down. She wondered if she jumped at this very moment, would she wake?

“You wake when I allow it.” The voice whispered again.

Rhaella sat herself, legs dangling off the edge. She could feel its presence. Whatever it was. Despite this fact, she did not feel ashamed of her nakedness.

“Quite presumptuous of you, placing commands onto me,” Rhaella said.

It was a back-and-forth they had engaged in. It would shrill riddles and prophecies that Rhaella couldn’t even pretend to understand.

“Tell me something,” Rhaella said. Her voice was distant, she already knew what the outcome would be.

“You have invaded my thoughts, for reasons unknown to me,” Rhaella said, bringing her knees to her chest.

“Tell me, have I gone mad?” 

The voice gave a low chuckle. Rhaella could feel its misty aura pass over her body, oddly enough she found it comforting.

“Perhaps.” The voice said in wicked irony. 

“It may be that you were born this way.” It said. 

Rhaella rolled her eyes at Its musings. She had become accustomed to it.

“You’ve given that boy a portion of your soul.” It buzzed. Maybe it was her mind turning against her, but the voice had switched to a lighter tone. 

Rhaella scoffed. Even in her unconscious, she could not escape the stigma.

“What now?” She asked. Her fingers raked through the strands of her hair at the memory of Aemond. He hadn’t held back, the repressed lust had spread like a sickness, infecting them both.

Rhaella smiled. “I suppose you think I'm a whore.”

The voice gave a hum of contemplation. 

“Love is the mind-killer.” It said.

Love? Is this how it is to be? Filled with the musings of some spirit or other as she continued to fall deeper into her desire?

It was equal parts unpleasant and enthralling.

“I need not your opinion, I don’t even know what you are. Rhaella responded.

Then she felt it. Disembodied arms wrapped around, engulfing her. They had no particular feeling.

“Oh Rhaella, but I know what you are.” It whispered into her ear.

Rhaella’s head tilted, curiosity peaked. This conversation felt familiar, but the meaning was compromised. 

“What am I?” She said. 

“Mine.”

It must’ve been well into noon when Rhaella awoke. 

Heaps of her curls surrounded her face as she sat up in bed. Her whole body ached, causing her to wince.

Why hadn’t any of the maids come? Typically they made a big show of opening the blinds and preparing her clothes.

No matter, there was a more pressing issue at hand. Rhaella pulled the white sheet from her body to reveal the crimson red that permeated through.

Proof of what she had done. What they had done.

Rhaella’s eyes darted across the room for a moment. A hiding place. She landed on the wardrobe. Someone would find the sheets eventually, but not after she was long gone.

Her feet found purchase on the cold tile. It wasn’t even for a full second before her knees buckled, stumbling to the floor.

It was as if her body was screaming for her to feel shame.

Balling up the linens, she shoved them inside the deepest parts of the wardrobe.

It had been some time and handmaidens had not yet entered. Deciding to dress herself, Rhaella slipped on the dress Helaena had given her. The gorgeous purple silks hid the slightly reddened bruises around her thighs and waist.

Then there was the issue with her hair. Curses were let loose and Rhaella struggled against the tangles.

The end result was somewhat presentable. Rhaella had wished her hair was loced like Rhaena or her grandfather.

Rhaella’s stomach rumbled in protest. She would make it a point to visit the kitchens first.

Her hand slid over the door’s handle. The knob would not budge, despite Rhaella’s efforts. 

She tried again. Then once more, followed by several futile attempts thereafter.

Confusion etched itself onto her brow. There wasn’t a possibility that she locked herself in.

Perhaps one of the guards made a mistake.

Rhaella raised her fists, pounding on the wooden door.

“Hello?” She called out. “Is anyone there?”

Her fists continued to beat the door, leaving nothing but echoes.

Rhaella reluctantly took her hands away from the door. She couldn’t place it,but something wasn’t right.

Pressing her ear against the door, she listened in for...anything at this rate.

Silence. There were no footsteps or voices to be heard.

Something was entirely wrong. Rhaella tried to recall the night before, nothing odd had stood out.

She remembered the way Ser Criston Cole was short with her, but she figured it was due to her disrespect of the queen during the past week.

Her grandmother. Rhaella had walked through the main halls before entering her own room and had not seen her.

Rhaella’s breath quickened. Was there something she had missed? Her mind raced with all the possibilities of what could be going wrong at this moment.

Rhaella paced back and forth in the room, arms crossed anxiously.

The king was most likely dead, that could be the reason for the silence.

But would she not have been informed? And why the locked door?

Rhaella walked over to the window in the room, the view was nothing but cobbled streets. It was quite a ways down, she’d surely break her legs should she try to escape.

The creak of the old door interrupted Rhaella’s contemplation. 

But it was not a maid she was met with.

It was Ser Otto Hightower.

Rhaella was surprised to see him of all people. However, she maintained a level of composure so as to not reveal her worry.

Slow and steady.

“Ser Otto?” Rhaella said. “What has happened?”

Otto walked further into the room, Rhaella's eyes darted to the slightly ajar door.

If she was quick about it, escape was a possibility. But then there were guards to worry about.

That was of no consequence though, Otto shut the door behind him.

“Lady Rhaella.” Otto greeted. He carried an air of pleasantry.

As if he’d won something. 

“What is the matter?” Rhaella asked. She attempted to conceal the anxiety in her voice. 

Otto paused for a moment. He watched Rhaella’s unwavering posture.

He was not fooled, unfortunately for her.

“There has been... an unprecedented event,” Otto said.

“The king has passed, hasn’t he?” Rhaella said sharply, leaving no room for questioning.

Otto folded his hands in front of him, nodding. 

“It is unfortunate, but yes his grace has passed.” 

Rhaella’s mind raced, unable to focus on one single thought. 

Ser Otto was not here simply to inform. No, there must be more.

So she would rip it from him, slowly.

“I never had the privilege of truly knowing him,” Rhaella said, her head bowing slightly.

“However.” Rhaella continued. “The king was my uncle, I do not see why I needed to be locked in my chambers.”

Otto sighed. “ We had much to prepare.”

Rhaella’s eyes squinted at the word. Prepare?

“Ser Otto,” Rhaella said. Her voice had turned cold, void of emotion.

“You did not come here to inform me of the king,” Rhaella stated. 

Ser Otto attempted to speak but was cut off. Rhaella was far from done.

“Choose your next words carefully ser, as I have been confined to this room for some time,” Rhaella said.

Otto’s mouth lifted into a slight smirk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bell.

Rhaella’s sharp eyes tracked his movement as he placed it on the table.

“It’s a curious trick you do,” Otto spoke. 

“One moment, you are a quiet girl.” Otto’s head tilted slightly in analysis.

“But then, you open your mouth and suddenly it’s your father I see.”

Her father? Were her words not her own?

“What is this?” Rhaella blurted out. She had grown tired of it all. 

“You are being presented with a choice.” Otto gestured to the bell.

“Choice?” Rhaella asked.

“The king’s dying wish was that Prince Aegon should succeed him,” Otto said.

Rhaella took a step back, in pure disbelief. Aegon and succession should not be spoken in the same sentence. For many a reason.

“Do you think me an idiot?” Rhaella snapped. 

“No, you have always been much more perceptive than others.” Ser Otto said.

“The king declared Princess Rhaenyra his heir, she is to be queen,” Rhaella said.

“He spoke his will unto the queen Alicent in his last breath,” Otto said.

Rhaella’s words fell stuck in her throat. 

What sort of fuckery is taking place here? And why is she in it?

“It is of no consequence what you think,” Otto said.

It never was.

“Bend the knee to Aegon, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms,” Otto stated. His tone had shifted to conviction.

She would do no such thing. 

Instead, Rhaella gave a lofty smile. 

“I am my father’s daughter, am I?” She said.

“You know full well what my answer is.”

Ser Otto nodded his head, expectantly.

“You will remain here until you’ve changed your mind.” 

Rhaella could feel her composure ripping at the seams.

“Ring the bell when you have decided.” Ser Otto said.

With his words lingering in the air, Otto turned to leave.

“Wait!” Rhaella said. 

Otto paused to face her.

“What of my grandmother?” Rhaella asked.

Ser Otto smiled. “ Both you and her will remain here for the time being.”

Otto closed the door behind him.

Rhaella swiftly walked toward the table, where the bell was placed.

It gleamed from the sun’s rays, almost mockingly.

In a fit of frustration, Rhaella hurled the bell at the closed door.

Fuck that stupid bell.

She was stuck here. Indefinitly it seemed.

There was no escape for her and no help would be coming.

Through the fog of her panic, Rhaella had another thought.

Had Aemond known? He couldn’t possibly stand for this.

Rhaella knew Aemond had no love for Rhaenyra, but he could certainly agree that Aegon was not suited for the throne.

She required clarity. She required him.

.......

In the long hours that followed, Rhaella could sense her sanity slipping from her being. She had been staring up at the high ceiling for what seemed like forever.

She played out multiple scenarios of what would happen to her. Rhaella was sure she would not be touched, nor would her grandmother.

Rather, they would have her rot to death.

A knock at the door cut through her musings.

Whoever had come was not her saving grace.

“Rhaella?” Queen Alicent called softly.

Standing up from the bed, Rhaella stared at Alicent wordlessly.

Alicent tried to offer a smile but was met with a blank stare from Rhaella’s violet eyes.

“I understand you may be confused at the moment,” Alicent said.

Confused? A plummeting understatement.

“What have you done?” Rhaella said.

“I am acting on the former kings’ command,” Alicent said.

“So, it appears you are not only a liar, but an usperer as well.” Rhaella snided.

Alicent grimaced at Rhaella’s words. She came close, grabbing her hands.

“It is better to not disrupt the realm, I only can guide it to peace,” Alicent said.

Rhaella jerked her hands away from Alicent in disgust.

“You guide the realm to war,” Rhaella said angrily.

It was preposterous that the queen thought that Princess Rhaenyra would accept this.

“I am doing what is best for the realm.” Queen Alicent responded. Her voice wavered slightly, her judgment was toothless.

“Ser Otto has informed me of your terms,” Rhaella said, eyes darting from the queen and back to the door.

Queen Alicent toyed with her hands, carefully considering her words.

“ I have come to offer you new ones,” Alicent said after a while.

Rhaella’s eyebrows furrowed. There was nothing more to be said. She would not bend the knee.

“I know that you care deeply for Aemond,” Alicent said. 

Rhaella felt herself turn cold, although she was hardly surprised. The queen had been dangling her own emotions over her head like a guillotine. 

“ You could marry him, and spend the rest of your days here in the Red Keep.”

Rhaella did not honor the queen with an answer. She feared the next words uttered would be curses. 

“I’ve known you to always be disregarded to the side.” Alicent continued.

“Your own father ignores you in favor of the princess, you are a stranger in your own home.”

Rhaella couldn’t deny that the observation stung. It only reaffirmed her own thoughts.

The queen need not know that, however.

“My son is most happy at your side, the both of you would be a fitting match.”

A thought occurred to Rhaella. She had been a fool, and not for the first time.

“So why not send him to speak to me?” Rhaella asked. Her mind was clear now.

“I came here on his behalf.” Alicent insisted.

Quite an earnest liar she was.

“Does he even know I’m being held here?” Rhaella questioned.

The queen’s silence was deafening. There was her answer.

Rhaella stepped closer to Alicent, eye to eye. The queen held her ground but the slight shrink back did not escape Rhaella’s predatory gaze.

“You seem confused your grace,” Rhaella said, her voice, menacing.

“No amount of care I have for your son would make me turn against my own family,” Rhaella said.

Alicent’s eyes widened. This was not the small girl she had kept under watch all that time ago.

No. Rhaella Targaryen was a beast, evolving before the queen’s very eyes.

“So, run to your sept and kneel to your Gods,” Rhaella said.

“Pray that my family does not answer you with fire and blood.”

The Queen Alicent’s mouth was agape. Her eyes searched Rhaella’s, hoping for a hint of feebleness.

There was none—only the swirling of something dark.

“Very well,” Alicent said. And just like her father, she too left the chamber, shutting and locking the doors behind her.

Alone again, once more. All those threats she threw and what came of it?

Rhaella dropped to the ground, eyes rimmed with tears. It mattered not if Aemond knew of her confinement.

He blindsighted her. All the speak of desiring something bigger than himself was clearer than ever to her. 

There would be no exploring the seven kingdoms on dragon back together. No more stolen glances or lingering touches.

Aemond did not simply desire a dragon. He craved revenge, undeniable power.

This was the man she had given herself to. Rhaella was unsure what horrified her more. The fact that she could see his reasoning or the fact that her heart still longed to speak with him.

Love was indeed the mind-killer. 

The day turned to evening as Rhaella remained confined to the room. She had food nor water at her disposal and it was beginning to take effect.

She needed to escape. Somehow. 

Rhaella ripped through the little belongings she had brought with her, looking for something that might assist her.

An object near the bed caught her eye. Dropping to her hands and knees, she went to retrieve it.

A sturdy stick no larger than an ordinary dagger. Rhaella fiddled with it methodically. 

Rhaella dragged the stick back and forth against the whetted edge of the bed.

Distress morphed into persistence as she continued. The wood soon peeled back, forming a point comparable to that of a knife.

It must suffice.

“The next person,” Rhaella mumbled to herself. She sat at the side of the door, in animalistic hyperfocus.

Whoever dared come through the door next would become a corpse.

Rhaella had never killed before, not even a bug. However, she could feel that same misty aura, the one from her dreams. It was guiding her, encouraging her to fight.

Pressing against the side wall, Rhaella listened for anything. 

Her efforts were not in vain. Padded footsteps could be heard outside the door.

She would aim for the chest.

Slowly, the door opened as a figure stepped inside.

Briskly, Rhaella tackled the body to the floor, shank raised in hand.

It was Talya, the queen’s handmaid.

“Please, wait I’m here to help!” Talya squealed. 

Rhaella hesitated, contemplating. Talya had grown to be a great annoyance to her, always around every corner.

But to take her life? All the dark courage Rhaella had summoned quickly fizzled out.

She, who had no dragon, no tangible aspirations. Could she really take a life?

Rhaella drew her weapon to the side, keeping Talya’s body on the ground.

“Explain quickly, lest I change my mind,” Rhaella said.

Talya, in a panic, fumbled her words before straining out something coherent.

“I am here on behalf of Astris and the white worm,” Talya said, panicked eyes shifting to the wooden dagger.

“Astris?” Rhaella said, eyes blinking in perplexion. 

When she had left Pentos for Dragonstone, the lord offered her a handmaid as a parting gift.

Rhaella was sure it was just to please her father, however, when she caught the gaze of the black-haired beauty in front of her, everything fell silent.

Astris. A girl who had a strangeness equal to Rhaella herself. The two girls grew much and more fond of one another. It was when Astris was brushing Rhaella’s silver curls, they shared a kiss.

That had been many moons ago, as Astris was moved elsewhere.

For Talya to possess such knowledge of her, she must have been telling the truth.

“How do you know her?” Rhaella demanded. Her expression remained guarded.

“We are both spies for the White Worm, it was she who sent me to help you,” Talya explained.

Spy? White Worm? Rhaella reeled over the new information. She studied the frightened yet earnest expression on Talya’s face.

It was not as if Rhaella held many options in her grasp.

Rhaella carefully removed herself from Talya, allowing the maid to stand.

“Quickly, we do not have much time,” Talya said urgently. She walked to the wardrobe, pulling out a brown cloak.

Rhaella reluctantly accepted, pulling the hood over her head.

“My grandmother is still locked in her room, we must help her,” Rhaella said.

Talya grabbed Rhaella’s arm in assurance.

“She has already found help, Ser Arryk Cargyll is aiding her escape,” Talya said.

The two of them quietly stepped into the halls. Talya’s swift pace was one Rhaella followed suit. Although there was an endless stream of questions she wanted to ask, only one sentence left her.

“I’ll kill you if I find that you are lying,” Rhaella stated. 

Talya paused for a moment, looking at Rhaella with an annoyed expression.

“I’m here risking my neck for you, why on earth would I lie?” Talya scoffed.

She had a point. It’s not as if they had ever been friendly, nor had Rhaella paid her any mind.

They arrived at Maegor’s holdfast, doing well to remain vigilant of others.

Talya opened a door, gesturing for Rhaella to follow. The tunnels underground were mostly dark, save for the mounted torches on the walls. 

The way Talya strode cautiously yet confidently through the tunnels indicated to Rhaella that she had done this many many times before.

“I suppose it makes sense that you’re a spy, you’re always mousing around me,” Rhaella whispered.

Talya’s cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment, the dark concealing the fact.

“You can be quite flippant I see” Talya hissed back. Rhaella simply shrugged.

“It’s not hard to wonder why the prince enjoys your company.”

Rhaella rolled her eyes at the comment. However, her retort was cut off by a loud boom that shook the tunnel.

Talya and Rhaella paused, glancing at each other. The source of noise must’ve been coming from the Dragon Pit.

“We must keep moving,” Talya said, grabbing Rhaella’s hand tightly.

They had nearly made it to the other side when a voice bellowed out, demanding them to stop.

“You two!” A guard shouted. Rhaella and Talya froze,not daring to move.

If they ran now, he would only follow. The guard approached them, drawing his sword.

Talya stepped in front, attempting to hide Rhaella’s face.

“What business do you have down here?” He asked.

“I am on an errand, by request of her grace the queen,” Talya said calmly.

“And you?” The guard called to Rhaella. 

“I am..assisting her,” Rhaella mumbled lamely. Her eyes remained downcast as they’d be an obvious giveaway.

Pushing Talya to the side, the guard grabbed Rhaella roughly, snatching the hood off of her.

“Lady Rhaella?” The guard said. Rhaella’s eyes darted to Talya, who shared her expression of fear.

“You were not to leave your quarters, by order of the queen,” He said.

‘His neck, drive your steak into it.’ A voice hissed inside of her. The familiar dark presence from her dreams had taken lodging in her day consciousness it seemed.

Flashes of her dreams, the green fire, and the dark figure polluted her mind.

And all the repressed rage, fear, and sorrow she carried manifested in that very moment. Something feral overtook her, seething and ripping inside her body.

A righteous violence took root in her.

Drawing the wooden shank, Rhaella stabbed it into the guard’s neck.

The guard was wide-eyed as he fell to the floor, blood gurgling in his throat.

Rhaella’s eyes followed him to the ground.

‘Finish it.’

Rhaella pulled the dagger from the guard’s neck, only to plunge it into his trachea.

Again. 

And again.

She could not stop. She would not stop. Rhaella’s grunts turned into a cry, formed from the deepest parts of her being.

“He’s dead, stop now!” Talya pleaded. She pulled Rhaella’s blood-soaked form from the guard.

Rhaella dropped her weapon to the ground as she let out heavy gasps. A certain rush perverted her blood. She looked down at the dark stains on the purple silks.

Talya dragged Rhaella to the ends of the tunnel, light giving way. There was no attempt to justify her actions and Talya dared not ask.

Had Rhaella’s actions been her own? She was not all sure. The whisper guided her,but it was her own hand that delieverd the blow.

She truly had gone mad. And her madness was now shared. 

[damned-punk]

What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)

Part Ten

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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment, angst

Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡

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You sat listening to the soft pattering of the water as Kidd showered, unsure of the future but rather content in the moment. You’d already changed into one of his shirts to be more comfortable, something you’d done many times before. A bit of regret hit you as you sat with your thoughts, not at all relating to Kidd as a person but rather the irritating situations that had developed as a consequence of meeting him. You didn’t want to acknowledge the reality that Hip’s warning was playing out, but she was admittedly right about the course that your relationship would take.

Moments of consistency with Kidd had been far and few in between, a gap that you hoped would close over time. Despite the last several grueling days, the thought of either of you moving on from one another was daunting. You would only waste your time looking for him in everyone you’d meet, he was your person and you were completely sure of that fact irregardless of how many times you’d been hurt. It didn’t serve to rationalize Kidd’s choices but you accepted that the two of you hadn’t made any sort of agreement on commitment. It was easier to accept that as his excuse given the circumstances.

You could feel a great deal of your pent up stress and worry dissipate as he stepped out of the bathroom, the strong scent of his soap and fiery wet hair sticking out in every direction affording you a much needed distraction. He cemented the view of you sat so prettily on his bed within the deepest parts of his mind. Kidd was undeniably grateful that you were there with him, his mistakes had certainly surmounted but he was going to make sure it wouldn’t happen like that again. He wasted no time climbing on top of you, caging you in his arms and nestling his head against your chest. This was a part of him that you absolutely adored.

“Thank you for coming over…”, he broke the silence of the room, “I’m sorry for-”

“Enough, Kidd.”, you gently shushed him, not wanting anymore heavy subjects to ruin the rest of the evening, “I appreciate your apologies, but let’s just relax. We’ve got plenty of time to talk things through later.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”, he agreed, repositioning his head so that he could get a better view of you, “I think I’m ready to use you as a pillow and get some sleep.”

“What if I wanted to use you as a pillow?”, you pushed back, giving him a small smile.

He pulled himself up and leant down to kiss you. It wasn’t laced with the same lustful passion as usual, it was one of exaltation and reverence that mirrored his innermost feelings for you. It was far from perfect, but he did love you in his own dysfunctional way. He flopped onto his back and wormed an arm under you so that he could scoop you onto his chest, a silent way of letting you know that he would be much more attentive to what you wanted moving forward. Listening to the drum of his heartbeat while he traced mindless patterns across your back was undeniably soothing. These simplistic moments were irreplaceable, this level of comfort and security not being found anywhere else.

“I see you’ve already made your way to my closet.”, he jokingly huffed, wriggling his hand up the back of the shirt you’d taken to continue his motions on your bare skin.

“I deserve it after what you put me through.”, you retorted, purposefully pouting as you tapped his pec to the rhythm of your words.

“If it’s any consolation, the shirt I gave her to wear was Killer’s.”, he started laughing, the absurdity of the situation causing you to laugh as well, “I think she was just as hungover and confused as I was the next morning.”

“Let’s try to never do that again.”, you yawned as Kidd switched from massaging to scratching your back.

The remainder of the evening was quiet but relaxing, the two of you falling asleep around the same time. As you had many times before, you woke up first the next morning and observed Kidd’s sleeping face. His expression was void of worry, sorrow, or anger, a much more authentic representation of his innermost self. You locked this version of him in your memory, a pure moment to stand alone against the several tantalizing ones you’d endured prior. Stability was an uphill battle with him, but you were determined to make it work.

Sometimes different paths are part of the same journey and only time would tell if the two of you had made it to the right place.

Epilogue

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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.

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[demontonic]

Ethan Landry - Perverted 3

lets ignore how the last chapter i posted was in july and pretend that im a consistent writer please:3 anyways i hope everyone enjoys this because it took me so long to figure out what i wanted to do for it. if you havent read part 2 i suggest you do that for this to make sense

Word count: 2269

TW: knives, blood, murder, suicide

“Oh my god,” Your heart dropped as you realized the killing had connections to ghostface, after last night you wanted to believe it wouldn’t get this bad. Ethan squeezed your hand softly, attempting to break your attention away from the news channel. His efforts were in vain as your own mind swelled with an endless amount of thoughts and emotions. Did Ethan purposefully intend to make you swoon in order to get closer to the group? Who was the other Ghostface? Why now did the killings start when things had finally seemed normal? The room had broken off into conversations between each other, trying to figure out how they wanted to handle it. You on the other hand remain in shambles, shaking in Ethan’s arms as he pulls you back into your room.

A silence fell upon you both, there were no words to be offered in a situation like this. Sure he could try and comfort you like you hadn’t already known he was a killer and you could try and pretend you didn’t catch him leaving the scene of a crime. No matter what you two did, reality was inevitable, Ethan was a cold blooded killer and you were a potential victim falling in love with him. Nothing now could change it, prevent it, or create a path to a life in which you two live happily ever after. The facts were plain and simple, a bright red sign flashing right in front of your eyes, still you chose to ignore it. Today was supposed to be nice, you’d finally given into Ethan but to everyone else you’d won over the quiet nerd. It wasn’t until you felt Ethan’s hands cup your face gently that you’d snapped back to reality.

“I swear it wa-“

“Of course it wasn’t you but… you know who did it don’t you?”

“…”

“I thought so-“

“I’m sorry-“

“No-“

“I am I didn’t know they were gonna do it tonight I swear I-“

“No, no, no- Ethan you’re not!”

It was quiet again after your slight outburst, it didn’t anger him but then again, did he even have the right? His hands stayed glued to his lap while he watched you go through the motions in silence. He wanted so badly to know what you were thinking, did you hate him? Have you ever hated him? Would you hate him now? You didn’t even have an answer, you wished you did but the feelings flowing through your body were indescribable. You wanted to hate him, you wanted to tell everyone he was one of the killers, maybe then it would end with no more death. What you wanted and what you’d decided before you even knew you had was set in stone. You wouldn’t say anything, ever, to anyone. If they found out you would say you didn’t know but, you didn’t want your friends to get hurt. Ethan knew this, he’d wanted to sympathize and stop everything once he’d truly begun to like you but, of course he couldn’t.

“Please- just listen to me before you hate me for the rest of eternity.” The bed shifted quietly when he tried to meet your clouded gaze but it was to no avail. Swiftly he’d kneeled on the floor, his body shoving your legs apart giving you no choice but to stare into his eyes. The same brown eyes that had instilled fear into your soul when you were hiding in the alley, that had made you blush and stutter. The same eyes that had seen you so vulnerable and raw and held the same adoration you’d once felt; before you’d discovered his little hobby.

“I wanted to stop it but they wouldn’t let me, I’m outnumbered. It's plain and simple. Even if we tried to run away from all of this and salvage whatever this is, chances are they’d come for us if they finish the job. I don’t want anything to happen to you I-“

“But you want to kill the only people who’ve ever really been my family in exchange for what? Fame? Plot? Fun?”

“Revenge.”

A knock came from the door abruptly ending the much needed conversation. Tara opened the door softly, explaining that Quinn had called her Dad for information on the Ghostface killing that was undoubtedly connected to the group. Ethan had sat on the floor in front of you while she relayed the order of events. Eventually she left, saying that they’d be going to the station to answer some questions which were pretty standard by now. You’d offered to accompany the sisters but they decided it was best to handle it alone. The entire group dispersed, breaking off into pairs and trying to grasp onto the slight normalcy that remained. Ethan had convinced you to follow him to an unknown location, claiming that he would explain everything once you’d gotten there. Of course you were concerned with the sudden idea of being alone with him but you still tried to have some sort of trust.

“I… I know that this is all going so fast and happening so sudden but, I need you to know all the facts before-“

“Before what, Ethan?” He slowed to a stop when you interjected, you sounded so drained and defeated and it hurt to know he was the reason. He could try and tell you it wasn’t his fault and that he had no part in it but he did, no matter how badly he wanted to make you happy.

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, trying to comprehend why Ethan would bring you into an abandoned theater. Sure it fit pretty well for his alter ego, it makes sense considering he wanted to explain everything. At this point you’d wanted nothing more than to leave rather than bare witness to what horrors could be lying within the old theater. Of course you were right, you’d wish you hadn’t seen it, the dedication to the series of Ghostface murders. Actual evidence encapsulated in glass boxes, clothing placed on mannequins, drawings of victims and killers next to each of their own murders. Ethan walked you down to the end, it was right next to the original Ghostface killer’s display. Your necklace, gifted to you by someone you’ve held dear to your heart, was laying in one of the display boxes. Alongside it were hand drawn pictures of you and the group, and a singular box seemingly a tribute to Dewy. Your necklace had been snatched off your neck the first time you had been attacked, Amber had always admired it. The natural formed ruby was an heirloom, before your childhood friend had committed suicide she’d gifted it to you on your 16th birthday.

“My brother was obsessed with the murders, obsessed with the concept of a horror movie being real. He’d always make short films, stories, chapters to a book that he could never finish. Richie was fucked up but he was the only person who took care of me, you have to understand that Sam took the only comfort-“

“No Ethan, he’s not your only comfort at least not anymore- Ethan you have an entire life to lead. Richie made his decision, based on a wild fixation to someone else’s tragedy.”

“Wouldn’t you protect your loved ones? Would you not kill to protect that precious group you call family? That’s what I’m doing, that’s what Richie is to me, don’t you understand this is to avenge him-“

“He killed people for fun and when he was killed it ended the meaningless game he was playing. Don’t you understand the way he’s influenced you into thinking what he did was right?” Silence, anxiety, anticipation and the sound of heavy breathing separated you two. Ethan seemed to be contemplating his next moves whereas your eyes trained on the mended necklace lying on the table. It would’ve brought you to tears being reunited with the priceless gift if not for the conversation he’d initiated.

“My family was always so focused on Rich, trying to get him to be a normal kid and dealing with his problems at school. Quinn was exactly like she is now and the only girl so you can imagine what little that left me. Even through all of that he made sure I felt seen, if not by anyone else, by him.” Ethan spoke as if he already accepted the fact you’d never be able to agree with him, and he knew better than to argue. He reached into his pocket and slipped a glove over his hand before reaching over the glass box. Sliding the lip over just enough to pick up the ruby necklace before closing it back up.

“Dad got most of this stuff but Richie took this from Amber and gave it to Quinn as a last minute gift. Amber was the one who snatched it off you but I’m sure you figured that out. I fixed it without question but it feels wrong not giving it back to you.” It hung off his fingers, holding it in front of your face with what seemed like no more life in his eyes. With a small sigh you grabbed it by the roughly shaped ruby, he dropped the chain and stood silently as you admired the seamless fix. A mistake in hindsight because by then he’d placed his other glove on, slamming your head against the glass table. Thankful it was thick enough to prevent it from breaking upon impact, much less could be said about you.

Tears filled your eyes as you wailed from the pain in your temple, your legs barely holding the rest of your weight as he pushed down on you. Then it clicked, he was leaning his entire body onto you, his knife was pointed into stomach.

“I just wanted you to be able to understand the purpose of everything. You are so fucking stubborn, I don’t want to do this but I can’t let them live with his blood on their hands.”

“So you’re going to kill the one person who was willing to look past your little hobby instead of leaving your past behind? Ethan you are being fucking used-“

“No I’m not! I loved Richie, he wasn’t perfect but he treated me better than anyone-“

“Anyone? So fuck me and kill me that’s fucking bullshit, I should’ve known better than to be stupid enough to get involved with you!” Your sobs rattled your entire body, it was hard to even differentiate between his tears and yours. From where he was his tears fell onto your cheek, mixing with your own on the table. It pained him to even speak to you like this, to inflict so much fear and suffering onto you because you were right. You were trying to love him, trying to look past his faults, trying to have a normal life with him. Ethan seemed to only sabotage his own happiness especially now when he’s hurting the last person that’d be willing to love him the way he wanted.

“It’s-It’s not like that I love you-“

“Don’t say that while your knife is digging into my body you sick fuck.” Disappointment could only be heard in your cries, disappointment in both Ethan and yourself.

“Oh but it was different last night you stupid bitch!” His hand pushed your head harder into the glass, beginning to crack under the pressure. A complete 180 from the sniffling boy he was half a second ago, it terrified you despite it being one of the things that had lured you in.

“You’re such a petty asshole, I bet I was the only girl who even gave you the time of day.” Laughing in his face was his breaking point, grabbing you by the hair and tossing you onto the floor in front him. Pain riddled your spine and it was then you felt the thin wound on your abdomen. Bittersweet as the hand he’d slashed at the night before covered the leaking cut. Just as fast as he’d thrown you he was on top of you, pinning your arms down with his knees.

“Why can’t you just accept their fate? We can be together happily, alone, in peace once it’s all over. Please I’m begging you my love, don’t make me do this I don’t want to!” His face was red and wet with the rush of tears spewing from his eyes, his knife pointed at your throat while he pleaded with you. It sounded so sweet and tempting as he always was, your little obsession being your own demise was all too perfect. You knew what your choice was so you turned your head, searching for the necklace he’d lured in with. With the ruby being in sight you felt calm, at ease with your end, it felt that if anything, at the very least you’d be with your friend once more.

“Fucking kill me already you piece of shit, lowsy excuse of a man!”

The next morning everyone was convinced it was you, after not returning to the dorm it was easy to pin it to you. Yet here the group was, following Gale into an abandoned theater, stumbling upon your lifeless corpse leaned against the stage. Blood pooled around you, sourced from your throat which had been slit open. However the silver chain shown clearly under the stage lights, with ruby barely noticeable amongst the crimson liquid. Ethan in shambles crawles next to you, cradling your cold body and rocking back and forth begging for you to wake up.

The End :D I hopes you liked this small series and please don’t be shy, leave requests for any of the characters in my masterlist or horror movie franchises as I’d love to do more with the horror genre. I simply wrote the first one based off a song so it was very difficult for me to turn it into the miniseries but i promise i did my best and i hope you liked the ending<3

@hana-1235

@i-do-be-vibinn

@meh-karma

@cumbermovels

@acornacreacure

@c0untryclub

[fagbearentertainment]

The William Afton rant is complete. It’s barely proof read bc I’ve been writing it on and off all day so if I contradict myself at some point woops :p

It’s also written exactly how I would be talking about it irl so it’s the authentic infodump experience

Just know that y’all asked for this

So through the first 3 games William is like the PERFECT villain for the series. Knowing next to nothing about him or his motives makes him TERRIFYING, to me at least, and how he’s portrayed in fnaf 1 and 2 sets him up PERFECTLY to be the big bad in 3.

Speaking of Springtrap i fucking love him. Such a cool concept, William being stuck suffering in that suit like his victims is *chefs kiss*, and imo he’s executed great in fnaf 3. I swear if the jumpscare wasn’t shit the fandom wouldn’t hate it like they do the game really isn’t that bad (comparing it to everything that came after at least)

Also Springtrap is actually the best animatronic design in the whole series so my guy wins /lighthearted

Anyway William, solid 8/10 antagonist, very interesting and I’d love to learn more about him

So all of that might have you thinking “jee after all that you must’ve LOVED Sister Location!” well…

It’s complicated. Like I don’t hate William in this game or even the books. A sci-fi villain obsessed with cheating death at all costs is really fucking cool I like that

the real problem I have with it is that. Given what we know about the other games, the world set up in them, and the fact that Sister Location probably happened before all the other games, it just seems really outta nowhere

Honestly I could rant all day about my other issues with Sister Location but this is about William not whatever all that was so we’ll move on

Anyway all that aside I can enjoy what Williams got going on here because I really enjoyed Pizzeria Simulators ending and hey at least William wasn’t something stupid like a computer virus who mind controls people to keep killing kids for some reason!

*stares at Help Wanted*

Anything I say here is something y’all have heard a million times by now so just know I do not like William being a computer virus, it’s stupid even for fnaf standards and makes Pizzeria Simulator basically pointless. Also Glitchtrap should’ve been called Malhare the pun was RIGHT THERE

Ok that’s enough of the games let’s talk about the movie! I’m so fucking excited to see William and Springtrap in the movie y’all don’t even know. Can’t say much about him yet because the movies not out yet but I’m very excited to see where they go with him, whether they expand on Remnant and the sci-fi approach or go back to just a regular serial killer it’ll end up 10x better than what’s currently happening *stares at Security Breach*

Anyway long story short I love William Afton, he’s a very interesting character and a great villain (for the most part) very excited for the movie and Matthew Lillard was a great casting choice

[molluskmirage]

the ‘day 12’ incident that q!Tubbo mentions, id like to go into detail about. While Purgatory is well over its a lingering moment for q!Tubbo and Id like to explain what happened on q!Bads end.

bad was pretty delirious by day 12, understandably so, but he got killed then made the decision to go back to his body immediately through the one way portal. Passing through this portal is a point of no return because he had nothing on him his only option of life is making it back to his body and recovering items. He has no food or water or armor, there would be no way to walk back to base alive he can only hope that his killers show mercy and let him collect his things, (an incredibly slim to no chance as it played out).

Tubbo comes across Bad as he was already past the point of no return. Tubbo tells Bad to run as he will be killed but bad already knows his only chance at life is to recover his things so he ignores Tubbos command to run. Its a quick moment as Tubbo is fleeing the scene himself and Bad is not in a state to accurately explain why he must trudge forward because the dumb choice bad made had already been made before Tubbo could effect it.

Tubbo understandably from his point had already felt like his authority was challenged by the tie breaker event and now this instance where Bad was straight up ignoring his advice really struck a nerve.

Both Bad and Tubbo are understandable from their POV’s just one of those moments that not everything could be expressed and hurt feelings weren’t given space to digest. It was hectic and chaotic and both Bad and Tubbo were under extreme stress and exhaustion.

Bad never had the opportunity to explain his situation in full and I think in large part its a massive blur to him so even well after the fact he’s not able to articulate what happened but for Tubbo it stands out so clear to this day because he was hurt and felt betrayed by Bad not listening to him in that moment so it’s something he repeats but Bad can’t refute because while he remembers the gist of events there was so much going on that he was juggling in an exhausted state its tough to communicate the event.

theres no true bad blood between them, it was a small moment. Its nothing that wouldn’t be solved by a proper sit down conversation to rehash events but always interesting how until ‘solved’ the issue pops back into frame from time to time.

I think you could make the argument that Bad dying to the elements would be better then having red kill him again but also it was such a minute moment that you could argue endlessly about missed moments and opportunities that both made throughout the day. The truth is both of them did a lot, about as much as you could ask of each other, they were lacking teammates and theres really no need to dig in on how both Tubbo and Bad should have done things better. They did what they could and it just wasn’t enough but they both did the most they could, mistakes and all.

[maircries]

Mair’s Episode Thirty Three Relisten:

We are once again feeling a little insane about the decima project

Can’t wait for those vague hilbert feels

Maxwell and Jacobi really had me fucking going in this episode

Kepler became mildly likable at this moment until I realized it was just a fucked up power play

Like if I thought he had actually given a fuck about Doug’s health and decision id be much happier

I also just really really love Doug’s writings and emotions here, like how he’s both relieved but scared but curious and everything else

Which further proves my idea that Doug would’ve volunteered for the decima part of the space assignment if he had been told about it!!!

“Thats Mr. Ballistics Dummy to you all” I want to kiss him on the mouth

God I love their relationship so much

God the fucking mailroom comment at the line killed me, the single most unforgivable thing Jacobi says in this show

“We try not to be total monsters” weeping

This really is so hard to listen to actually

No one can convince me that Eiffel wouldn’t have participated in this study voluntarily. The ONLY reason he’s so upset about it is because it was done without his consent and all that it entails for his life and choices. When Kepler says the project is terminated after hilbert mentions the improvements, he becomes so hesitant about calling it quits until Kepler points out that it was done to him without his consent. I’m so insane about this.

I’m not okay at all about how easily they managed to trick Lovelace (inventor of paranoia) into thinking they were safe, friendly

“The hell do you think we are? UPS?” God. It just. It fucks me up. Truly THE most monstrous thing Jacobi does or says. Because everything else had a reason, even if it wasn’t very good or straight up awful. But delivering those letters? They could’ve scrubbed any damning evidence of what really happened. They just didn’t. And I don’t even blame Jacobi for that. But why did he have to lie to her about it? Why couldn’t he just say, probably not, or just straight up no. I’m unwell

God, the fact that hilbert

He doesn’t ask Doug to forgive him, he doesn’t even start with his bettering humanity spiel, he doesn’t ask for TRUST. He just asks that Doug not trust Kepler. I’m.

I want the hilbert Kepler backstory STAT

“Tell that to the fingernails you’re not supposed to have.” Cold. Killer delivery. Ate and left no crumbs.

Okay but also, on second listen, I really really am so curious how much of the impossible regeneration of cells is due to decima and how much of it was because of lovelaces blood. Was it both? Give me answers

“You’re saying that it works?” THIS MAN WOULDVE VOLUNTEERED IF. YOU. HAD. TOLD HIM!!!!!!

I’m okay

I’m so glad this episode took half place in a medical office because damn do I need a doctor rn

[muninnhuginn]

Thinking about Seo Dongjae’s arc and how Lee Changjoon factors into it.

Spoilers for both seasons of Stranger under the cut.

Both came from similar backgrounds in that they were ‘disadvantaged’ compared to their peers. Lee Changjoon didn’t come from a family as wealthy as the chaebols and Lee Yeonjae is explicitly said to have married ‘down’ when she married him instead of Kim Byunghyun. Seo Dongjae meanwhile wasn’t an alumni of a prestigious university and so doesn’t have the same connections as many of his colleagues. This pushes them both in different ways. Dongjae towards latching onto the nearest person he thinks he can use to give him a leg up. Changjoon towards the murky business of Hanjo and his father-in-law.

As season 1 progresses, Dongjae and Changjoon become more distant. We’re told that they used to be closer and have been growing apart over the course of the early episodes as Dongjae’s suspicion of his boss grows. Dongjae is still an opportunist though and so he returns back under Changjoon when given the chance. Ultimately, survival is what matters most for him and if it’s playing all sides that keeps him from being arrested that’s just what he’ll do.

Changjoon took Dongjae on to be his employee on the condition he stay away from Hanjo and his father-in-law. In retrospect, I’m inclined to believe this was his way of protecting Dongjae from their influence rather than because of worries Dongjae could ‘expose’ him. After all, Changjoon intended to expose Hanjo himself and so keeping Dongjae away from them doesn’t particularly help with this. If anything, he’s limiting potential information Dongjae can obtain to only the pieces more relevant to himself.

And, of course, Changjoon told Dongjae to not follow his path with his dying breaths. He could see the direction Dongjae was heading (and was already far enough down to have an arrest warrant out in his name) and knew where it had ended for him. Changjoon knew how how hard it is to extricate yourself once you’ve started down the corrupt route. But he also knew it wasn’t too late for Dongjae. Eunsoo proved that Dongjae couldn’t stomach being a killer.

Season two Dongjae, for all he’s still trying to make inroads and build connections in dubious ways, does show signs of growth. The fact he looked further into the Choi Bit and Park Gwangsu when Woo Taeha tried to draw him away from them is evidence of that. Looking further in this case would not endear him to the very person he wants to gain a promotion from. Also, it does seem like he was genuinely invested in his role in juvenile crimes, in even ‘simple’ bullying cases. And that in of itself helped him unlock the beach case. There was also how didn’t particularly socialise with others at his current office and mainly kept to himself which is a far cry from his early season 1 behaviour. Of course, the last point is somewhat weakened by the way he was most definitely networking outside of his station, but it adds to the sense of isolation and desperation present in everyone this season. His motivation skews increasingly towards his family and dissatisfaction with the whole system (though as a prosecutor he aims most of his ire at the police force).

There’s a part in the second season where Dongjae says something about how looking too deeply into places regardless of what everyone else wants can get you in trouble. And at the time the most obvious person it applies to is Simok (and also Eunsoo, but that stays silent) but in a number of ways it applies to Dongjae himself in this season. He’s probably lucky he was taken out by the culprit he was when you look at the other potential suspects. He has a lot of new powerful enemies. And those enemies are still future threats to him (as Lee Yeonjae demonstrates aptly). For a character so focused on survival historically, his choice should be clear when it comes to whether he speaks up or whether he chooses to stay silent. And yet, he’s shown enough growth that it isn’t clear anymore.

In the dream sequence in season 2, the subtext is pretty clear as to why each person appears. They’re all people who quite literally ‘lost their way or lost their life’. Changjoon (life/way - self-explanatory), Kang (strayed his way but chose to leave), Eunsoo (life, and also her way - though not in the corrupt sense, more how her revenge consumed her and she made self-destructive choices), Yoon (way, though importantly *not* his life). And Dongjae being there is partly to raise the potential he won’t make it, but most of all, it’s there to say that Dongjae hasn’t yet chosen his own path.

As of the season two finale, we don’t know which direction he’ll choose to go.

[aliveinacoffin]

Strawberry Fanta

A Shouta Aizawa x Reader Fanfic

TW; Yandere, Stalking, Cyber-stalking, violence, and more.

Pls read this on Ao3 if you enjoy the first chapter, more coming soon! I have 7 so far, 6 ready to post :)

“Y’know, those are horrible for you.” A deep voice pulled you out of your daydreaming, following his eyes to the sickly sweet drink in your hand. The cold stung your warm hands, and you looked back up at the strange man.

“So are those.” You pointed to his killer of choice, Mevuis, Japan's most popular brand of cigarettes.

The strange man looked back into your eyes, deep and invading. You quickly looked away, waiting impatiently for the cashier, who mysteriously seemed absent. The air grew thick with an unknown tension, one that suffocated you. Taking a glance back at the stranger, you saw he had never looked away. Or maybe you both had awkwardly met eyes by chance?

The sound of the analog clock was deafening, but the sound of your rustling jacket somehow was louder. As slyly as you could, you reached into your pocket for your pepper spray, better be safe than sorry. The man seemed to shuffle closer to the middle of the counter, looking at the product stand in the middle of the long counter. Your knuckles turned white as his thick shoes inched closer to you, his breath seemingly on your neck. Turning your head slightly, you could see how close he had gotten, so close in fact, that even if you slightly leaned over both of you would be touching.

Both of you were startled by the door behind the counter swinging open, an alt teenager sauntering out as she popped her pink bubble gum. Thankfully, she rang you up first, eyeing you up before looking back at the dark-haired man beside you. You quickly paid and rushed out the door, refusing to look back as the hair on your neck raised.

You let out a breath as you walked farther and farther from that dammed store, all tension and fear seemed to slip from your body. The walk back to your shitty apartment wasn’t far, and it wasn’t all that bad in the daylight, a contrast to the terrifying dark. The feeling of unease took over you again, so you jogged back to your apartment hoping that you could run off that feeling of fear.

The fear didn’t leave you, even as you locked all the doors to your apartment. 

♥————————————————————————♥

The sound of your alarm clock awoke you, precisely at 7:30 as it always did, and hastily you got ready for your job as a counselor at the local high school. Simply brushing your teeth and hair would do for beauty today, the train you needed to catch left in 20 minutes, and you needed that ten to walk to the train station. As you shoved yourself into your uniform, you stuffed your mouth with a breakfast bar. Rushing out the door, you quickly made your way through the lively streets. You had barely made the train, quickly settling yourself inside the train, feeling like a packed sardine in the sweaty train. Aimlessly you looked around at the people sitting and standing on the train. It always made you wonder what lives they lived, where they were going, or maybe where they were leaving from. Mindlessly you turned your head around, when your breath caught in your throat, and goosebumps raised on your arms. Quickly you turned back to the window facing the front of you, hastily fixing your panicked face to a calm one. 

It was the man from the convenience store. 

Sure, it could be that you two lived in the same area, given the fact of how late you both went to the store. It could have been just a walk away, just like you. And maybe it was just a coincidence that you both had to ride the same train to get to work or where ever he was going. But it just didn’t feel right, it felt wrong. And you knew it was the same man by his unkempt hair, his dark eyes, and his black clothes. He had the same eyebags, the same stubble, and the same fucking invading stare. Seriously, did no one teach this guy not to stare?

Unfortunately, looking out the side of your eye, you both made eye contact again. It seemed like forever before you got off your stop, your kitten heels clicking behind you as you rushed to your job. It must be a coincidence, it has to be. Yeah. You were just being erratic and deranged, there were tons of people you recognized riding the train during your work days. But they never made you so uncomfortable and so on edge as that man did. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, you let your feelings and anxiety go. A new wave of fresh calmness washing over you. It was fine, everything was going to be fine. You repeated this mantra to yourself over and over, self affirmations always helped ease you. So lost in thought you missed the shadowed footsteps behind you.

♥————————————————————————♥

This Wednesday was no different than any other day. Students didn't usually come in, only the occasional regular coming in to complain about their problems. Always, you were an attentive listener, always giving advice and directions to the lost students. 

"Goodbye Y/n, I'm glad you decided to show up today." Daiki grumbled out, slamming the door to your office as he left. 

You sighed, smiling. Knowing that he came from a good place and that he was, in his own way, thanking you for listening to him and being reliable. Which wasn't hard, you always came on time, every day no matter what. Packing up important papers, you slipped out of your office for the day, the meeting with Daiki running later than you both would like. 

Your work wife, Aya, stood waiting for you. She was the advanced math teacher, she was smart and beautiful, something you had always been jealous of. To top it all off, she was extremely kind, an example would be how she waited for you every day. 

"Hey! Wanna walk to the train together?" She offered with a bright smile. Her work uniform hugged her body in every right way, all the way to her beautifully placed hair.

"You don't even need to ask at this point Aya, you know we always do." You teased her, interlocking your arms as the both of you descended the stairs of the school. The golden afternoon light casting everything in a T.V-esk glow, making the day even more beautiful.

As the two of you chatted about nothing and everything, you decided to bring up the strange man from the train. Aya nodded attentively, always the sweet girl who listened to your every word.

"Well, I have to agree with the coincidence part! He might be new in town, and maybe that's why you feel off! You aren't used to his face, so that's why it's so uncomfortable for you. Maybe it'll get better if you talk to him." She perked up, happy she solved this life mystery.

You looked away, grimacing. "Hmm, I might just leave it be y'know? He's still a stranger." You looked up at the camera, hidden to the side of the financial building. For some reason, you felt like it was watching you specifically. "Actually, I might as well. This anxiety is taking over my life." You laughed, trying to ease your nerves.

Aya smiled, tugging you closer to her, her face so close that if the two of you just moved just that much-

Before you two could meet, Aya’s phone buzzed to life in her pocket. She snapped her head to her phone as if it had deeply offended her. She made a face.

“What's wrong?” You cawed out to her, saddened by the lost moment.

“Just some unknown number. Weird. C’mon, or you’ll miss your train!” She tugged you forward, the mood dampened by the mystery call. 

You enjoyed the rest of the walk, soaking up Aya's warmth. Everything about her was warm, from her color pallet, and her skin, to the brightness in her smile and hair. You boarded on the train, looking out wistfully as she happily waved you off. Because of the lateness, the dawn slowly but surely became night, and not as many people were on the train with you. The occasional student and late worker were with you. Right across from you, you noticed a person in a black hood. They almost seemed asleep in their slump-over hooded form, though, with how still they sat you knew they were awake. 

You enjoyed the rest of the train ride in peace, only slightly disturbed by the distant fear of being watched. It honestly was probably just from this morning, your mind was more than likely still ringing false alarm bells.

How silly can the mind be, truly?

♥————————————————————————♥

Read it por favor

[mtdthoughts]

Alright, I finally finished Chapter 4 of the fanfiction! Just like Chapter 3, it's an overview of events without any dialogue (kind of like a journal), this time surrounding the events in the story from Chapter 1 to 14, and again both twins' POVs are given.

The next chapter won't be like this, and I plan on writing about the whole Sali and aquarium thing in Dali's POV for Chapter 5.

I basically have like 90% of the entire fanfiction already in my head and I can't wait to finish it, but it takes so long to find a right way to write it out. 😣

Anyway, here's the chapter.

CHAPTER 4 – Our New Home and Old Home

Dali:

After spending most of our lives in the orphanage, Migi and I were finally able to return to Origon Village to begin our mission of avenging Mother. Through the use of our wits, skills, and some luck, we were able to trick an elderly couple, the Sonoyamas, into adopting us.

They wanted to adopt only one child, but luckily, because Migi and I look the same, we were able to trick them into thinking that we were one boy named Hitori. Besides, it was better this way. It’s not like we were actually going to become part of this family, and for the sake of fulfilling our mission, we needed to hide our existence and withhold as much information as possible, since our mother’s killer may already know about us. We needed to be one in both heart and mind.

That being said, this wasn’t going to be easy. All we knew was that we once lived in Origon Village with Mother. We had no idea where we once lived, and we certainly did not know who killed Mother.

But to be honest, I wasn’t even sure if Mother was actually killed; it hurts me to think about it, but perhaps Mother really did just leave us behind.

But there’s no way I could say that to Migi, otherwise he’d be completely heartbroken. That’s why we needed to see this through, and I’d do anything to help us uncover the truth.

Our first few days were a success, as we successfully infiltrated the Sonoyama family as one boy. Of course, there were a few road bumps along the way where we were almost caught, but that was to be expected in unfamiliar territory.

Yet, I couldn’t help but notice that our new home began to have an effect on us.

Migi, being the glutton he always was, already took a liking to the old woman’s cherry pie, and since then he’s been talking about it every day. In fact, he’s also been drawing cherry pie every day, though I could never tell just by looking because of Migi’s drawing skills.

I do worry that he’s beginning to forget himself and our purpose. Ever since the welcome party, Migi seemed to be drifting away from me and Mother, as if he was actually becoming a member of the Sonoyama family. I’ve told him not to let his guard down, because we just couldn’t trust anyone else; more importantly, we didn’t need anyone else when we had each other.

Well, I can’t exactly blame Migi, since our new life was more comfortable than before, even more so than when Mother was still alive. We had plenty to eat every day, we always had fresh clothes, we were always clean because we showered and bathed daily, and we got to sleep in a big, warm bed together. I’ll admit, I did find myself thinking about the old woman’s omelet from time to time, and it did feel quite nice spending time with Migi in our new house, whether it was hanging out in our tent, raiding the fridge at night, or even seeing Migi in those striped pajamas. But still, I reminded myself that I had a duty to fulfill, and I could not afford to let my guard down.

Yet, even as I told myself this, I still managed to slip up several times. During the welcome party, I had no choice but to burn Migi after just realizing that it wasn’t a trap after all. When we went over to that rodent’s house, I didn’t expect the rodent to hurt Migi to such an extent. Seeing Migi hold back his tears like that angered me to no end, but looking back on it, I was also angry at myself for allowing this to happen. After drinking so much juice one particular night, I ended up wetting the bed, though luckily Migi didn’t catch on.

I hate to admit it, but I wasn’t as capable as I thought I was. Nonetheless, I still needed to maintain my image in front of Migi, who was always watching me. If I couldn’t be someone who Migi could trust and rely on, what good would I be? How would I be able to protect him if I was the big brother who wet the bed? And if I couldn’t protect him, would Migi still be with me?

It’s a good thing that Migi’s always been quite oblivious compared to me, otherwise he would have noticed long ago. Still, it stung me that I needed to lie to my younger brother.

Our experiences after exploring the Ichijo house reminded me just how important my duty was.

As soon as Migi saw our scribbles on the wall, he completely broke down and cried just like the night we lost Mother, like he was 5 again. I was sad and dearly missed Mother too, but it was the sight of Migi crying that really drove me to tears. During that night, he held me tightly in bed just as he did when we were little.

Ever since then, Migi had dreams about our past with Mother, and as I feared, he began asking why Mother left us. I couldn’t bear to see Migi like this anymore, so I decided to investigate Origon Village together with him. I needed to reassure Migi that our mission had meaning, that our lives had meaning, and that Mother really did love us. Eventually, I was able to do this by cobbling up a theory, yet I still wasn’t entirely convinced of this myself. No matter how much I tried to convince myself, I couldn’t conclude whether Mother actually left us behind, whether she loved us.

Even though we lived so long without Mother, her absence still lingered in our hearts to this day, as if we were cursed. To lift this curse, we needed to get to the truth as soon as possible, and I’ll do anything to make sure that we see this through. For Migi, and myself as well.

Migi:

After spending most of our lives in the orphanage, Dali and I were finally able to return to Origon Village to begin our mission of avenging Mother. Through the use of our wits, skills, and some luck, we were able to trick an elderly couple, the Sonoyamas, into adopting us.

They wanted to adopt only one child, but luckily, because Dali and I look the same, we were able to trick them into thinking that we were one boy named Hitori. Besides, it was better this way. It’s not like we were actually going to become part of this family, and for the sake of fulfilling our mission, we needed to hide our existence and withhold as much information as possible, since our mother’s killer may already know about us. We needed to be one in both heart and mind.

That being said, this wasn’t going to be easy. All we knew was that we once lived in Origon Village with Mother. We had no idea where we once lived, and we certainly did not know who killed Mother.

But still, I knew I could count on Dali, because he always knew what to do and what to say. Sure, we may have gotten ourselves into some sticky situations like with the golden beast, the welcome party, and the ropewalking at boy scouts, but that was to be expected because we were in unfamiliar territory. We successfully made our way into Origon Village as Hitori Sonoyama, all thanks to Dali’s plans; all I needed to do was listen to him and perform my job perfectly.

Yet, I couldn’t help but take a liking to our new home as our new life was a lot better than before. We ate delicious food every day, we were always clean because we showered and bathed, and we had a big bed that we shared together. The old woman and the old man were actually nice people, and the golden beast was fun to play around with. I couldn’t stop thinking about the old woman’s cherry pie; it was the best thing I’ve ever had in my life!

I wonder if Dali feels the same way. Dali has never said it himself, but I’m sure he does, because I’ve seen him eating just as vigorously as I do, especially when it comes to the old woman’s omelets.

But to be honest, I sometimes struggled to understand Dali’s plans and what he thinks about. Was it about avenging Mother? I sometimes see him writing in a journal, but whenever I ask him about it, he immediately closes it and tells me that it’s nothing with a smile on his face. I’ve asked to see it before, but Dali always refuses, saying that an idiot like me couldn’t understand it.

I’ve also wondered why I’m always the one to do the dirty work. It was me who snuck into the Sonoyama house in a box, who dug through the old couple’s dusty bed, and who investigated Akiyama’s house while Dali got to eat cherry pie.

On the other hand, I also understand why things were this way.

When I wet the bed that one time, I thought Dali was going to scold me or hit me, yet he was actually so accepting of me and my stupid mistake. Even though Dali didn’t wet the bed, he was so determined, even more than me, to hide my embarrassing secret, and he even let me eat breakfast while he cleaned up after me.

After we found out that we had lived in the Ichijo house, Dali comforted me all night, holding me tightly in his arms as I cried, and when we investigated Origon Village to gather more information, he consoled me and patted on the head when I was worried about Mother leaving us behind.

Truly, Dali was always my strong, smart, and cool older brother that looked after and cared for me. That’s why I’ve always admired him and wanted to be just like him. I know, it sounds a bit strange since we’re identical twins, but it’s true. I’d do anything to make him happy and proud of me; it was my purpose.

When Dali laughed so hard after I impersonated the old woman, I felt a tingle of joy.

When I was able to befriend Eiji at boy scouts when Dali was sick, Dali was amazed at my feat and praised me for a while. I couldn’t be any happier.

Yet, I couldn’t help but feel a lingering anxiety. Could I always keep doing this? Could I always live up to Dali’s expectations? Would he still be with me even if I couldn’t? Even though we were identical twins, why was there such a difference between me and Dali?

But there’s no way I could express these thoughts to him; he’d probably be disappointed in me and call me “Stupid Migi” like he usually does when he’s mad.

Perhaps things will change after we avenge Mother. That’s why I need to listen to Dali and do anything to see our mission through. For Dali’s sake, and my own as well.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Ok so I just finished Hannibal a few weeks ago and I need to talk about the choice to use a Windego as the depiction of the Chesapeake Ripper (Hannibal) in Wills hallucinations.

I’m going through a horror / folklore phase and that’s what got me to start the show in the first place. I’m sure it’s probably been said since the show came out but still I’d like to add my two cents.

In most folklore the Windego is a cannibalistic spirit that possess a person via a bight or their dreams and then kills and eats its victims (other people)

⬆️ [i actually didn’t know this part. I had just looked I up while I was writing this out. If anyone want to add to this bit go ahead. I’d love to hear more]

In other versions it’s a person driven to starvation who resorts to cannibalism and is then warped and changed by the act. (Normally minors lost in caves or early American settlers who run out of supplies during their travels)

The choice to have the Ripper depicted as that in Will’s hallucinations has such an important role in the story. If you go off the two routes of the creation of these creatures you can see that in a way they fit with each of them respectively. (Hannibal and Will)

That scene in the prison where Will is the one growing the antlers is a great reference to the fact that he’d been almost “possessed” to kill Abagail but it was really Hannibal who did it. (Yes I know she wasn’t actually dead but at the time Will believed he might have done it) From his prospective Will has no idea what happened to her. Not really at least. He can’t trust himself completely and nobody els dose either. He’s been warped by this unseen entity and has done things he would have never thought he could do before meeting Hannibal. And given they reveal later Hannibal had been manipulating him to have episodes/seizures and the blackouts it’s even more of a reference to the whole “possession” aspect of the monsters origin.

On the flip with Hannibal you can easily see he’s a cannibal so that obviously gives the connection to the creature. Here’s the part where I think I might be reaching so just stick with me. Hannibal in season 2 tells Chiyoh that he didn’t kill his sister but he did eat her. Now I don’t know what happened. I haven’t seen any of the movies and I haven’t read the books so this part is purely my own theory’s and speculation.

The theory goes like this- he and his sister were taken (Where I have no idea) bad stuff happens and one of their captors killed Mischa and somehow Hannibal escapes. Between her death and his escape either he is driven to starvation and thus is changed or he killed his captor and eats her as a way of honoring her death. Personally I lean more for the first. (In both situations he eats her as a forme of keeping her with him either for survival or simply emotional) Thus he is changed and she was his first step onto this new path.

(For this I’ll be going off my first theory)

So the way I pictured it things go as such, Mischa dies, he eats her, and presumably she becomes his first, then he escapes. The man who Chiyoh was guarding was likely their captor and caused her death. Given we know he was a cannibal we can also assume the possibility that Mischa died and Hannibal was driven to either starvation and ate her or the man forced him to eat her. After Hannibal was likely still young so say he escapes, after he gets back home enlists the help of Chiyoh and they captured Mischa’s killer. Hannibal tried to kill the man but Chiyoh stops him and instead they imprisoned him. Hannibal leaves at some point after and goes to presumably Florence where he becomes El Mostró. We have a general idea of what follows.

All this is to say that in the case of Dr. Hannibal Lector he was likely turned to cannibalism due to the death of his sister and connects directly to one of the possible origins for these cannibalistic creatures.

In the case of Will Gram his connection is via “possession” or through his subconscious/dreams at the hands of Hannibal. Will might have already had a darkness in him but Hannibal most certainly was the catalyst for its eventual release in season 3. Will might not have become a full blown cannibal like Hannibal in the end but if they did survive the fall and they were at Bedelias home about to eat her leg he clearly isn’t against it anymore and thus he has been changed.

The choice to depict Hannibal as a Windego was a perfect literary choice not only character wise but simply thematically and story wise.

It’s just such a fitting thing to have him depicted as that creature and then to have them parallel him with Will in the prison growing the antlers!? Genius! The writing for this show is insane! Dont even get me started on the individual murders and throughout the show! The tree?! And mural killer ??!? I could go for hours on those !

I’ve only just finished it but it truly is full of such good writing. Absolutely beautiful.

[note: i have the name of the creature crossed out and mentioned as little as possible because supposedly saying it can attack the creature like whistling at night and I don’t need that even if I’m not very superstitious so there is a reason for that. It is entirely unrelated to this post though]

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[photog-crafty]

If you ever heard the Liberty Bell March playing in the distance in a public session, it was probably this Future Shock Bruiser shunting across Los Santos. This was a vehicle I had passed over for quite some time until the passengers in my Scarab got fed up with being thrown out of its bed and I was pressured to try the only other Arena vehicle with four seats. To my surprise, it had just as much composure as the imitation Mercedes that it was converted from and felt like an actual limousine, instead of a limousine body grafted onto a box truck frame. It was easy to drive and easy to fly, unlike the Scarab and Imperator, and more than one of my friends mentioned that they found it genuinely relaxing to be bounced across the sky in it. Having dreamed of a job as a limousine driver, those compliments meant a great deal to me.

The radio in this Comet Safari was permanently stuck playing Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" on repeat. I love regular cars with lift kits and off-road modifications, and the Comet Safari nailed the look while also being a complete blast to drive. Getting this car fully kitted out, complete with inaccessible colored interior, made me feel like I had gone back to being a kid playing Rock 'n Roll Racing.

I don't care what anyone says. Sure, it had broken textures on the wheel arches. Sure, it had poor customization. Sure, it wasn't a proper AMG wagon. I loved the Streiter. It was a damn good car and I'm tired of pretending it wasn't. It handled well and it was impressively quick for a four-door off-road capable car. A station wagon is a station wagon, even if it's based on an obscure customized version of one, and I adored the Streiter just like any other station wagon and drove it everywhere I could regardless of the haters.

When the Gunrunning update was released, it was easy to overlook the humble Half-Track. You wouldn't think to drive this old truck over fancy materiel like the APC and Insurgent, but it was later discovered to be the ultimate counter to infantry because it had a completely bulletproof windshield. Like a bombproof Armored Kuruma, you could shoot out of it, and others couldn't shoot into it. This made it perfect for routing griefers who had dug themselves in deep and breaking their spirit. As a player who never touched hacking utilities, nothing made me smile more than being called a hacker when using a vehicle like this.

My Imani Tech vehicle of choice was the Granger 3600LX, and I owned two of them to cover both bases. This one was driven fairly often, and it was given the missile jammer as well as an OEM Sable Metallic paint job. Being more understated than the other cars with jammers made it great as a "leave me alone" vehicle. Nobody wanted to mess with this hippo.

I knew I was getting old when I started getting a hankering for a Sandking. Way back when I started playing, I had a Sandking XL that I took out now and then, but in the years that followed I learned more about trucks and came to realize that the Sandking SWB perfect for me. I didn't want fast or flashy, I just wanted a big comfy Hank Hill truck to drive around, and the SWB delivered with a soft suspension that still allowed it to go rock climbing and have fun now and then. The fact that I'm not into crew cabs and had to drive an uncomfortable Home Depot single cab also likely contributed to my acceptance of extended cab as the superior configuration. Now if only they weren't so expensive in real life.

The Stromberg was one of the few vehicles in the game that could be described as heroic. It was built for undersea travel, but saw most of its use as an Oppressor killer and even stayed relevant well after the Mk II released because brainless riders and the game's poor coding allowed the Stromberg to bypass their countermeasures. Many players switched to the Toreador for bike hunting, but I stuck with my handsome Stromberg because of its superior protection against bullets and because the passenger was magically able to phase their arm through the window to use drive-by weapons. My best friend and I had good synergy, and he was quick on the draw with the flare gun which made our Stromberg practically untouchable to Deluxos and Oppressors. More often than not, teamwork came out on top when it came to GTA PVP.

I bought this Guardian in 2015 because "haha big truck go vroom" and it was my faithful companion all the way to the very end. It's been through several paintjobs, several battles, several parties, and it's got the forced modded license plate to prove it. The Guardian was always the bringer of good times because it was a fast, capable vehicle that any number of people could stand on as it drove, well after the seats had been filled. Before things like CEO Buzzards and dedicated anti-aircraft weapons were added, we used to use them as makeshift air defense technicals by having someone stand in the back with an RPG or missile launcher. The game itself eventually gave a nod to this behavior, adding a mission in which you transported armored combat suits on the back of a flatbed truck where the strategy was to ignore the flatbed entirely and use a Guardian. The prevalence of explosives eventually pushed the Guardian out of a combat role, but it never stopped being the life of the party whenever it came out of the garage, with crewmates and randoms alike partying it up in the back. The Guardian was a vehicle I had a very special kinship with and it's one of the things I will miss the most.

As the twilight years began, this Future Shock Dominator came to represent everything I loved and stood for in GTA. On the surface, it was a benign little car, looking like a plain old S197 Mustang with AliExpress lights stuffed in the grille. But as I mastered the shunt boost, this car became a thing of beauty that could go anywhere and everywhere. It spoke to my heart, calling out the young child who grew up renting Blaster Master every weekend and making me fall in love with a jumping vehicle all over again. It had everything I wanted in a car, combining the speed and handling of a muscle with the mobility of a motorcycle and a skill ceiling that ensured there was always something new to learn, from how to rescue a trapped sale vehicle to how to drop straight down into a car meet from a thousand feet up. The funniest thing is, I absolutely hated this Dominator at first, and thought that techno-beehive on its back was the ugliest thing. But then I test drove one and discovered its incredible stability in flight, and it was like seeing the beautiful woman beneath the ugly glasses for the first time. Every time I popped that tombstone off for a drive, it was like uncorking a bottle of fine wine. I drove this car up until my very last day in Los Santos and nothing will ever replace it.

Finally, we have the three Craftybikes: past, present, and future.

The Ruffian was the first motorcycle I ever fell in love with. It was cheap, it was fast, it was good-looking, and most importantly, it was an amazing stunt bike. The Ruffian was the perfect machine to pop my stunt cherry on after migrating from GTA IV and San Andreas, as it could vault over just about anything simply by popping a wheelie into it at speed. It was on this motorcycle that I began to earn a reputation in our crew as a stunt biker, and the curious triple headlight that came with it from the factory was one of the first things to tip me off that vehicle customization in this game was not entirely as it seemed.

About a year and a half into the game's life on PC, the FCR 1000 was released to a great deal of fanfare. Many of my crewmates flocked to the FCR 1000 Custom for its old-school military style, but as I drove my unmodified one for the first time, its modest appearance and weighty handling caught my attention and never let go. In this often-overlooked bike, I found a wall-climbing animal with a tight suspension that gave it huge air from curbs and bumps, a field that the Ruffian left me longing for as I continued to hone my stunting skills. More importantly, it had only one seat, which cleanly solved the dilemma of curious people wanting to see my prowess firsthand, not knowing that having a second rider absolutely crushed a motorcycle's performance. Spending a lot of alone time with this bike was what really kicked me into high gear with GTA bikes and got me thinking about how they could be used with other creative projects.

Five years later, the Reever appeared on the scene to become the champion of all the game's motorcycles. It delivered a host of customizations, impressive stunt potential, and speed that was nearly unmatched, all in one bike. Many of its owners customized theirs to look futuristic, myself among that number with my low-gripped spare, but the circular headlight and fairing inspired me to shape my primary Reever in the image of my old FCR 1000, which had long since taken on a life of its own by that point. The Reever kept me company as we all began to go our separate ways and wind down, and it was on this bike that I rode off into the sunset, just as the Ruffian had brought me into this lawless town nine years ago.

[zoyalannister]

thanks for writing good arcs for your :female MC/, I have been seeing some posts about Grace lately where some people have the audacity to say Grace wasn’t in a worse situation than :Alastair: or //Matthew//, and meanwhile she is in a bad one she still kept apart James and Cordelia and hurted Matthew as part of the triangle, I thought this was all already covered and clear so here I am writing to thank you for not falling into these mindset and giving justice to Grace

I will always write good arcs for my FMC :)

Another anon sent me months ago an ask informing me of people saying that Alastair had less choice than Grace and I laughed because this user erased and denied Grace's canon traumas to give them to Alastair.

It's fun to see how people bend over backwards to headcanon Alastair as the victim of the situation when he literally never had a problem in his life (rocky relationship with Charles besides). In the books he is the bully, he and his friends attempt to murder James, and he repeats and helps to spread rumors about Gideon cheating on Sophie with Charlotte and Matt being the result of this affair; Alastair did everything of his own volition, he was never forced to do anything in his life and yet the fandom cries saying that he is a victim when in the whole trilogy + novellas he isn't even close to what Grace goes through in one (1) random of her flashback chapters in Chain of Iron.

I don’t even start with Matt. Of course, he the incredibly rich boy [guys be fucking for real: he can afford a car in 1903, Matt is super rich] who is always been free to do whatever he wanted, who has a loving family, a parabatai and a circle of supporting friends is worse than Grace.

Do you know the ironic thing, anon? These people send me and @fimproda hate anon asks claiming that we are "miserables who didn’t like ChoT" because our headcanons didn’t become true, but then they post bullshit like this that is contraddicted by the books and the novellas collections.

Also fun how the canon traumas of a female character are erased and denied to be given to two hot male characters, that’s not mysoginist at all!

Btw I'm not into that mindset because I can read, and it’s clear that Grace is a victim, unlike Alastair who needs to be painted as a victim by the fandom and Matt who is nowhere close to Grace’s situation, he isn’t even a real alcoholic since in canon his addiction just randomly disappears by travelling solo around Europe.

Also, don’t get me started with the fact that some people think Grace is worse than Zara, who proudly calls herself a f4sc1st (idk if Tumblr has a problem with this word, just in case I censor it), or Sebastian who is a child killer, slaughtered good part of the living Shadowhunters, tried to abuse Clary and is the reason why Julian had to become a parent to four younger siblings at 12.