#w/ a morbid obsession w/ crime
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i vaguely recall getting an ask once that went smth along the lines of 'dar you can't tell me sun WASN'T a little angel as a teen' and i think it was in response to the backstory spoilers?? ik i was gonna respond by saying he definitely didn't look like he could hurt a fly but i never actually didđ i found this and i think it was meant to go along w/ the reply
i don't actually remember doing this tho?? i was probably high bc i even forgot his beauty marks, but i'd probably forget them even if i wasnt tbh𤥠anyway, teen sun for you guys, pls imagine the moles and fix the way off proportions in your heads bc i'm too lazy to try and edit anythingđ¤§đ
#Dar's Sun#idk if the nonnie who sent that ask is still around but nonnie if you see this i'm sorry i never responded promptlyđ#this man looks like he was made to be isekaied into stardew valley and instead he ended up being a delusional author#w/ a morbid obsession w/ crime#sorry for denying you your perfect farm life sun you could've been normalđđ#yandere#yandere oc#yandere male#yandere boy#oc#male oc#also an extra fact abt him: his (+ dice's) hair is actually wavy but in his teen years his aunt used to straighten it so they could match
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ââââââ<3 MINDFUCK ŕźşâąŕźť
WEEK 4 | SINNERS SAVAGERY + APART OF @edgeray EVENT
| Synopsis | Demons linger where shadows play; in silence, hearts betray, whispers echo, and desires catch fire in the haunting depths of the night.
With every kiss, a scythe may cut, in which terror envelops one's gut; together they dance on the edge of fate, finding beauty in a love that is too late.
So let the night weave its spell, for in the dark they know so well, and though demons are whispering fright, in their twilight, the lights are ignited.
| Starring | Slasher!Arlecchino x Investigative-Psychologist!Reader
| Setting | SLASHER/SERIAL KILLER AU
| Scenario | [ ONESHOT ] SMUT Porn with plot. Long Introduction. Dark romance. Intersex Arlecchino. Manipulation. Body worship. Dacryphilia. Obsessive & sadistic Arle. Cunnilingus. Fingerfucking. Degrading & Praise Kink. Implied cannibalism. Mastrubation. Unreliable character. Female anatomy for reader, pronouns are not mentioned.Â
âş RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ]
â TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES, OH, BLESS ME, FATHER. â Ended on a cliff hanger lmfao, I will probably expand on it since this is only â
of the ideas I have for Slasher Arle. â Anyway, thank you so much to Ray for letting me participate in this event <3 Even though itâs quite late but nonetheless thank you for accepting my work as a part of your eventâŚ! â This is how I imagine Slasher Arlecchino to look like or basically arlecchino from commedia dell'arte
[ Word count: 5147 ] | Art credit: Nut_nog on Twitter | Heart divider gif
"In and every heart that is meticulously dissected by my hand has its part in orchestrating the string of fates to bring you closer to me... and further away from life, my greatest tragedy."
Those were the exact words spoken to you during a mysterious call on the very first Halloween Eve when the infamous Mirthless Harlequin made her debut as a renowned and feared killer.
Frightened citizens have declared many titles for the Mirthless Harlequin, such as The Jester who doesn't laugh, The Living Embodiment of Demons, The Surgeon, and The Heart Collector.
Yet all these titles are of little to no comparison to the true identity of the beast that lies dormant behind that twisted, sinister mask.
The muted saturation of the walls is splotched in what is most likely the victim's blood; written on it is the detail of what had transpired before the crime scene occurred, and the freshest blood drips down the wall, spelling the name of the person responsible for the attack as if in pride or apathy toward the fallen soul.
At the centre lies a chair and a small table draped in a deep velvet cloth; an organ rests atop it, the very one that would become a trademark for the killer's distorted way of leaving a mark behind. A heart, perfectly preserved with it carefully wrapped in crimson ribbons, each twist and turn creating intricate patterns that speak volumes about the attempt at humanising the organ.
Around the table, papers of various poems and photographs of the victim's missing parts were scattered across, but even with those morbid aspects, one letter in particular has caught the eyes of the world. A letter in which a cryptic note rests inside, hinting at an obsession, not towards the killing but towards the person who will, no, whom she wants to investigate and find the truth behind the "Mirthless Harlequin."
The second paragraph was quite strange, switching from the gruesome details of the first to quoting a poet and novelist for children and young adults as follows:
Walls have ears. Doors have eyes. Trees have voices. Beasts tell lies. Beware the rain. Beware the snow. Beware the man. You think you may know.
But it wasn't until the very last paragraph that you would finally choose to be the one in charge of leading the case; there your name is written repeatedly, blood surrounds it like the base of a cake, and an unknown white substance decorates it like frosting, a substance you come to identify and regret upon investigation.
A mask which you dreaded oh so much, a mask which you wanted to rip apart, and yet when that day arrived, you prayed to the Lord above to take away the sight of what lies hidden by the mask, a sight of the unmistakable face your body and soul have fallen into the grasp of.Â
The aroma of caffeine envelops your senses, overshadowing the aching desire to rest. Although it keeps your consciousness awake, you cannot replicate the same for your body.
Your blinks began to weigh your eyelids heavily with their slow momentum, and at any second now, you feared your body could give out on you and you would fall face-first onto the office coffee machine.
Much anticipated, your body did give out, but the harsh feeling of the appliance never came into contact with your skin; rather, a calloused yet careful hand pressed against your forehead, strong enough to prevent you from falling over.
"It's no wonder you haven't answered my messages or calls," an inviting yet foreboding voice sounds beside you. "Working overtime isn't going to earn you an easy ticket to an ongoing decade-long murder caseâ"
"I know, I know, you don't have to lecture me like everyone else; I have heard it about a thousand times already," you grumbled, grabbing her wrist and using it to straighten yourself before your eyes made contact with her crimson-crossed ones.
Arlecchino's eyebrows are furrowed, darkening her expression further; her eyes, which are often alluring and enigmatic due to her ability to hide the complexity of human emotions, seem to take on a more dangerous underlining.
Whatever tiredness had anchored you suddenly disappeared as she pulled your hand off hers, switching it so that she would be the one gripping your wrist. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second tightening the tension in the air and reflecting her thinning patience. She leaned down, her head turned to the side to whisper into your ear, but when she parted her lips, no words sounded outâa rare occasion showing the intensity of her frustration.
Her jaw clenches. "But you still refuse to listen; how can they depend on their best investigative psychologist when the one in question has not a single sane cell left to think with?" she asks, a rhetorical question you noted, but her words come out more like a growl demanding an answer.
"I am sane enough to work, and excuse me...! I didn't study my fucking ass off for nothing; I will have you know that just because I let you have your way with me so often doesn't mean I am not independent; for fuck's sake, I graduated with high honors!"
You expected her to fire back a remark rebutting your claims, seeing the twitch of her mouth, but she quickly caught you off guard when she placed her hand on your knee and held you over her shoulder.
You let out a surprised sound, instantly yelling with fisted hands coming into contact with her back in a furious retort, "ARLE! LET ME DOWN."
"Stop acting like a child; this is for your own health."
"I AM PERFECTLY HEALTHY-" Arlecchino interrupted you, her voice booming throughout the entire police department. "Healthy is a word that perfectly describes the OPPOSITE of what you are; you have been skipping your meals and overworking yourself to the point of passing out."
You tried giving your two cents, but sensing your next moves, her voice increased in volume. "I WILL be taking you back home, and you WILL have a warm bath, eat a proper meal, and go to sleep; end of statement."
Like a cowardly dog, when its owner is disappointed in it, you can only soak in annoyed silence and mumble incoherent, derogatory language that Arlecchino chooses to ignore.
Arriving at your car, Arlecchino put you down in the passenger seat, buckling your belt and closing the door for you before going to the driver's seat herself.
You turn to look at her the moment she has settled down, leaning as close to her as possible with the seat belt wrapped around you.
"Peruere-! You don't get it, Halloween Eve is coming up in a few days, which means she will be committing her 13th crime this year! Thirteen victims-!"
Arlecchino slowly turns her head to you, her facial features clearly expressionless to the naked eye, but to you, this is the most enraged you have ever seen her.
"Do you hear how insane you sound right now? You're obsessed. To think a criminal has you acting this way; I would even dare say you sound downright in love with this murderer." Arlecchino leaned in closer, and instinctively you flinched away slightly. "Don't tell me that you would prioritise your parasocial relationship with a killer over the person whom you married." Although it doesn't sound like a question, it was phrased like one by her tone.
You bite your bottom lip and slump back into your seat with an audible groan; it wasn't because you couldn't answer the question, no, far from it. If it were any normal argument between you two, then you would've easily answered no; you wouldn't choose a killer over her, your lover, but the fact that she would assume such things from you has hit a spot you never knew she could. How can she think so lowly of me to presume the worst betrayal of all, obsessive towards THAT forsaken woman? Can someone not do their job without any intent of malice anymore?! The absurdity of the situation has your head aching, to believe that it all started because you wanted to make sure no one else would die from the 'Mirthless Harlequin' anymore, all because you chose selflessness over selfishness.
The ride back home would be in complete silence as you stubbornly refuse to apologise for your actions, nor would Arlecchino stoop so low as to abandon the facts and satisfy a brat.
"I'm going to prepare your bath; don't do anything unnecessary while I'm gone."
Arlecchino has calmed down from the argument during the quiet ride back home and is rather friendly now; monetarily, she places her hand on top of your head and ruffles it as she makes her way past you.
"I'm not your kid," you groan, running your hands through your hair to fix the mess that she made.
Your lover only glanced over her shoulder with a glare, a silent threat to your words, but nothing you couldn't handle, and thus she left for your shared bedroom to prepare a bath.
You stand in the hallway, confused about what to do next as you're not usually this free; it's not that you overwork often; it's that you're often way too engaged in what you are doing. Admittedly, you couldn't really say that 1 a.m. is early, especially for most people, as they are asleep by and/or before this time. You turn around for a split moment to make sure the door is locked before you take off your shoes and place them in the wooden shoe rack.
"Might as well analyse that data report Navia gave to me earlier."
You stifle a yawn as you walk up the stairs, turning the corner into the hallway that leads to your office and shared bedroom. The quiet of the night surrounds the house with the exception of the light sound of water coming from the bedroom, a perfect blend with the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet.
You perk up and see the many portraits displayed across the hallway of you and Arlecchino, some of them including your friends and coworkers. For what seems like the first time in a long time, a curve is formed in the corner of your mouth.
You stand in front of your office door, eyes gazing at the portraits beside it featuring Arlecchino and you back when you first started dating one another; you still remember that day vividly. It was 12 years ago, a week before the infamous killer first appeared. Your eyes narrow slightly; what a coincidence, you think; life works in such mysterious ways, but it's still often shocking how different destinies are all tied together in the pathway of fate.
Shrugging it off, you grasp the wooden handle of the dark oak door leading to your workspace, twisting it before cracking it open slightly. Just then, a memory of the earlier argument between Arlecchino surfaces, piercing your thoughts.
"Don't tell me that you would prioritise your parasocial relationship with a killer over the person whom you married."
Now that you think about it, Arlecchino has been acting quite out of character today; when you usually have over time, she isn't as mad as she was today, but then again, you did ignore her messages and calls for almost 24 hours. However, in your utmost defence, you need to have your phone on silent mode so you won't be distracted and procrastinate. Coupled with the recent data, you and the rest of the Harlequin investigation team have been hard at work accumulating it over the last few months.
In one of the meetings discussing the various sources gathered for the infamous killer case, a single piece of evidence caught your attention: "A single white hair strand," you mumbled.
"What are you muttering about?"
A shiver runs down your spine, a moment of fear clouding your mind at the sudden sound of another voice, but you're quick to calm down once you recognize the voice belongs to none other than Arlecchino.
"Peruere..." You turn around and say, "Don't creep up on me like that again; it's scary."
Arlecchino raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and shaking her head in disapproval. "You are standing in front of the door, mumbling incoherent words to yourself in the dark; if it were any other person, wouldn't you be considered the unsettling one?"
Blink, blink, blink. You couldn't even deny it because she's right, and the truth hangs in the air like a balloon waiting to pop.
"Arg... Whatever, forget what you heard and saw; I was thinking about work. By the way, you're done with setting up the bath, right?" You grab her hand, not waiting for a reply to lead her inside and into the bathroom.
"You wanted to bathe together?" Her voice softens, tinged with an unexpected apologetic tone for not considering this turn of events. "I'm afraid I can't; I need to prepare dinner for you since you have been eating only processed food lately, and it's detrimental to your heart."
"Ah..." A wave of embarrassment crashes over you as you realise how swiftly you had dragged her inside and assumed the fact that you would bathe together before even asking for her permission or if she was in the mood to do so in the first place. "I see... It's okay."
Seeing the flustered and disappointed undertone of your words and expression, Arlecchino devises a solution to improve your mood.
"If I am fast enough, I can join you later; is that alright with you?"
Much to your shame, you nodded way too fast for your liking, which in turn resulted in a light smirk from Arlecchino sent your way for the sudden clinginess. Her dark, tattooed hand rises and descends gently, resting on your head as she pats it lightly. The gesture is both comforting and oddly intimate, a soft reminder that you are her lover and the only one capable of seeing this side of her, seeing Peruere.
"Call me if you need anything."
"Mkay, I love you," you whisper, getting closer to the bath as you begin to take off your clothes.
"... Yes, I... love you too."
You didn't question the odd pacing of her words, assuming that she's still not used to saying those words back even after a decade of being together. The door closes with a soft click, and you're fully undressed, a sigh leaving your lips as you step foot inside the hot bath.
You allow your body to relax in the tranquil warmth of the softly cascading water, sinking deeper until only the features above your nose remain above the surface. The gentle flow conceals you whole, creating a cocoon of serenity, an occurrence that is rare for the likes of you. As you close your eyes, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the soothing sounds of the water and the faint echoes of your thoughts. In this moment of peacefulness, you allow yourself to let go of all the things that have weighed you down, allowing comfort to wash them away and ground you in a sense of much-needed peace.
Your thoughts linger on what food Arlecchino will be making for you, how pleasant her skin would feel against yours right now, and the upcoming Halloween Eve.
"A single white hair strand? How do I know this isn��t some sort of ploy she set up?â You question Navia, arms crossed in a vice-like grip, as you analyse the hair under the microscope. âIs it fake hair or from a doll?â
"Haha, it's simple, Dr. Snezhevna, because she herself stated in this letter that the hair strand belongs to her,â Navia replies, her tone steady and amused as she watches your demeanour shift dramatically upon seeing the familiar letter in her hand.
An audible groan escapes your lips as you snatch the letter and another from the pile of letters dedicated to the killer to compare the heart stamp and writing styles. As you read, the distinct vocabulary matches flawlessly, with not a single difference between her signature stamp and her writing style, confirming she deliberately left her own DNA behind.
âThis woman genuinely pisses me off... Does she think Iâm a fool? Or is she that cocky to be under the impression we aren't capable of matching her information with our extensive network database?â
Navia lets out a light chuckle, leaning back in her chair and looking drastically more relaxed than you do.
âIâve heard Commander Wriothesley uncovered that the fresh blood she uses to spell out her name contains a secret, obscure code imprinted onto it and that it doesn't belong to the victims, though we don't know exactly who it belongs to as of now.â
âSeriously?! God forbid this damn criminal gives me a break!â you exclaim, frustration bubbling over. âThe day I finally catch her, Iâm going to give her a piece of my damn mind, alright.â
You open your eyes and rise from the water, leaning back against the bath as you take a deep exhale.
"Who are you, and why am I the one you desire so much...?" You said aloud to yourself, your mind foggy with the jester again, easily shattering the peaceful atmosphere that had settled around you.
"Who am I?" Arlecchino's voice echoes throughout the bathroom, causing you to yelp at the unexpected sound.
"Peruere...! Do you seriously have to always randomly creep up on me?!" You turn to face her, your heart racing as you look up at her with displeasure.
"It is not I who am the problem, but it is you who lack awareness, darling; I called your name countless times, and you keep muttering to yourself as always."
Oh.
"Ah, oh, my apologies... hm, wait, are you already finished with cooking? How long have I been here...?" you ask, looking down at your reflection in the water with much shame before raising your hands from under to see the pruney fingers caused by your prolonged exposure to aqua.
"Less than half an hour, the food has already been brought up; you can go and eat right now if you want."
"Butâ" you tried protesting since you still wanted to bathe with her, but, as always, she read you so easily and responded before you could even get a sentence out.
"We have an eternity before us; you should eat first lest you want an upset stomach, and you should also begin getting ready for bed."
"Sigh, if you say so," you stand up from the bathtub, the warm water dripping from your skin as you reach for the towel hanging beside the tub, wrapping it around yourself snugly. You glance at Arlecchino with a small smile that then turns into a smirk. "You should keep the door open while you're washing up."
As expected, the teasing remark made little to no effect on her, and you're left with her staring at you, unamused.
"So bland, my love, you could have faked your expression or agreed for my sake."
You leave the room with a laugh, and as you take in the sight before you, you can't help the soft smile that replaces the smug smirk that had once dominated your features moments ago. Clothes carefully selected for your comfort and a perfect amount of portion for you to relish are laid out before you on your shared bed; what a thoughtful soulmate you have, you mentally acknowledge.
You lie contentedly inside the soft blankets, the light of the waning moon illuminating your features through the window, painting your face in its most desired parts. You sink further inside, your body never wanting to leave this paradisiacal space; yet likewise, life often works against you, and a notification causes you to straighten yourself grudgingly.
Who would be texting you this late is your initial thought, but the moment your eyes land on the unknown caller who has sent you a voicemail, you nearly drop your phone. Rapidly, you scan the room for the calendar, completely forgetting the phone in your hand has a built-in one, and your heart nearly drops as you realise it's the 29th. Two days before Halloween Eve and two days before the woman strikes again. Another unfortunate soul is soon to fall victim to a killer whose identity is yet to be known aside from her details as a woman with a jester-like appearance.
Shakily, you search for your earbuds and pair them to your phone upon retrieval before you open voicemail and press on the recently sent one. A chill runs down your spine at the sound of the familiar voice beginning to talk to you.
"In the ticking shadows where time slips away, a hero stands tall yet fears the fray.
With every heartbeat, the clock's cruel hand counts down the moments that they both understand.
Time is a thief, relentless and cold.
As you chase the thrill, the stories unfold.
Yet in this chaos, a bond begins to bloom.
Two souls entwined in the depths of doom.
A hero and a villain, bound by a thread.
In the twilight of choices, where both may tread.
The dawn of your death is arriving, my dearest angel. I await the day we shall personally introduce one another, which happens to be only two days from now."
Tsk. You clutch the phone in your hand, slumping back onto the mattress with a hand over your eyes. How frustrating it is to be haunted by someone who is seemingly untraceable, and now you have suddenly received confirmation on who the next victim will be, which conveniently enough happens to be you. You feel calm; you look relaxed, yet internally, you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't terrified of what would happen to you on that fateful day.
You didn't realise you had been crying until Arlecchino's gentle hands brushed away the tears that streamed down your cheeks in quietude.
"Peruere..." You murmured, the sudden feeling of everything around you crashing down.
You removed your hands from your vision and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her close as you began to sob uncontrollably; the warmth of her body brought comfort to what was left of you. Your lover didn't say anything, opting to keep silent until moments later when the clock struck two.
"She's going to kill you on Halloween Eve," Arlecchino said eerily and softly.
You froze in place, the tears continuing to fall unchecked, but the moment she uttered those words, something sounded incredibly hard to swallow; you had worn earbuds the entire time to prevent her from hearing the voicemail, and there was not a soul who could have heard the message aside from you and the sender, the killer herself.
"But how did you know...?"
Arlecchino looked at you like you were a lost dog, and without many words, she shook her head in yet more disappointment. "Why else would you be crying? It's an obvious assumption based on how you have been acting as of late, the sudden unease, overworking for the past month, and your muttering about some sort of finding."Â
Right, right, of course, that's correct; how foolish and frightful of you to think beyond the possibilities.
"Ahaha... Of course, I'm sorry, Peruere... I just need to relax; I am just... so scared. I have never felt such fear before, you know."
Arlecchino stared down into your glistening eyes in wordless moments, a long and slow pause of lifelong connection and understanding passing within those time frames. Slowly, she leaned down, her movements calculated and gentle, as if afraid to break your already fragile body.
Like second nature, your hands subconsciously trail her barely dry body to the nape of her neck, enveloping it and pulling her cooler frame to your warmer one.
Her gaze remained locked on yours, searching for the discomfort and fear lingering in your soul and how she, as your lover, could dissolve those worries into mindless tranquillity.
"Whatever happens," she whispered, her voice a sultry murmur in your ears, "you're not alone."
Multiple kisses follow those words, a few on the right side of your jawline to the left side, one here and there on your neck, and lastly on your collarbone, where she's blocked by the fabric of your shirt.
Simultaneously, Arlecchino pulls the cover off you and runs a hand through your hair, pushing back the strands that have obscured your beautiful features for her hungry eyes to feast on.
"Let me take care of you, little dove."
At the sound of the slight neediness in her raspy tone and that insatiable stare, you could feel a knot forming in your stomach and an aching feeling below it. You couldn't bring yourself to trust your own words, so, choosing the best possible option, you consented to her request with a nod.
Usually, the woman would say something about the lack of vocalisation, but today the air was of a different flavour because she took no time lifting your shirt just above your breasts.
She peppered kisses on every inch of your perfect imperfection, savouring the delicious taste of your body in her mouth; oh, how she wished she could devour it all.
"Peruere... please," you plead, desperate to cloud your mind with her rather than your impending doom.
"Patience," Arlecchino enunciated, her salivating tongue trailing your body but avoiding the part where you desire her the most.
Your impatience overwhelms you, and your hand goes to grip her wet hair, pulling her upward to your hardened nipples. In a weak attempt for her to fasten her pace, you let out a pathetic, whiny plea.
Through lidded eyes, her pupils direct to your face a prideful, almost invisible smirk that flashes on her lips at the sight of you breaking apart under her feathery touch.
"I have barely touched you, sweetheart, and here you are," Arlecchino pressed her knee directly on your clothed vagina, causing you to shamefully moan, "so eager for me."
Her hot mouth latches onto the right side of your perky nipple, making sure to give the left one the same attention by pinching it with her thumb and forefinger. A gasp is involuntarily ushered out of your lips, followed by more pleas for her to continue her relentless assault.
Pitying you this time, Arlecchino's pull at the hem of your pants causing a short cry of pain to be released from you and an unexpected whimper at the feel of the icy air against your womanhood.
"Naughty girl, such innocent looks but such perverted thoughts; you're already this wet," the tip of Arlecchino's finger touches your clitoral area. "And I haven't even started."
The slow progress of her foreplay obliterated to nothingness as she forcefully thrust two colossal fingers inside your aching cunt. A high-pitched scream pierced the room, but it would not be long until you were silenced by her mouth.
"How... adorable," Arlecchino groaned in between kisses, her eyes wide open to observe every twitch and change in your lascivious expression.
Like a starving animal, Arlecchino wanted more; she needed more, she craved more, and in a split moment of lost control, she decided to satiate her desire for your addictive melodies. Thus, she pulled away from your lips, increasing her speed and slipping in a third finger as your pussy morphed and fit her fingers like a puzzle piece.
You bite your lips, trying to muffle your sound as she plunges faster and deeper into you, and of course, this doesn't go unnoticed by her because how dare you try to get rid of the sound she's craving so much?
She manoeuvred you into a more advantageous position, pulling your legs over her shoulders, thrusting into the deepest part of your cunt, and rubbing your clitoris furiously with her thumb all the while she got to enjoy your pleasurable sounds up close.
"Good girl, fuck... just like that, sounds so good for me; you're so close, aren't you, doll?"
Arlecchino's hand comes to latch itself onto your hair, pulling it with satisfaction as an ominous grin creeps its way onto her once monotonic features. Her eyes seemingly take on a deeper vermilion hue at your face, filled pathetically with pleasure and fat with tears in those precious, mindless gazes.
"MMPH-AH," pant, pant, pant. "Don't stop! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm so close...! AH! PERUEREâ"
Your back arches off the bed, eyes rolling back as you see a distorted reality comparable to that of heaven; so much pleasure and so much energy are used that the next thing you know, you are passed out on the bed while Arlecchino licks your cunt clean.
Arlecchino's thumb swipes over your lip in a tender touch, eyes scanning your serene sleeping form, and contrasting with the loving touch is a sinister grin spread across her features, a mix of admiration for her work of art and something darker that dances in her eyes during the dead of the night.
Her hand trails down to the aching bulge that's imprisoned in her pants as she studies the rise and fall of your chest. She pulls her hardened cock out, rubbing the leaking precum all over the base of her length like it is lubrication.
For a moment, she allows herself to bask in the sight of you all peaceful and unaware, completely vulnerable in your deep slumber. A mix of a moan and a groan sounds from her lips as she moves up and down her enraged member, the corners of her mouth curling higher as she considers the delicate line between protector and predator, each heartbeat echoing the thrill of the beautifully unknown night.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered, her words laced with a playful edge that held secrets only the abyssal night could understand. She masturbated faster, her climax coming quicker than she expected, but not one that was unappreciated. She pulled back slightly, that sinister grin never leaving her swollen lips, an unsettling mixture of warmth and foreboding in the stillness of the atmosphere.
She switched the same hand that was used to fuck you senseless to her mouth, and effectively, she came as she tasted your arousing scent and ejaculated all over you soon after.
A satisfied enough sigh emanates from her, opting to settle down on top of your chest after calming down from her high to feel the sound of your heartbeat against her ear. The smile that seemed to stretch endlessly expanded at the thought of your heart in her hand, devouring her mind. Soon enough, the beating of your heart shall be in her hands for her to safeguard until it can no longer pulsate without its host.
"My greatest tragedy."
#erisetober#erise film#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino x y/n#arlecchino x you#arlecchino smut#arlechinno genshin#genshin arlecchino#arlecchino#genshin impact x you#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#genshin wlw#peruere x reader#peruere#arlecchino genshin impact
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Mr. GhostFace
Pairing: Stu Macher Ă Fem! Reader
Summary: You where on a phone call with your friend laying on your bed, when suddenly you hear something stumbling behind youâŚ
Genre: Smut
cw: fingering, knife play, stalking, mentions of murder, dubcon (lowkey)
Word Count: 2,2k
pd: this is my first ever fic, so please let me know if thereâs a spelling mistake or anything, Iâll be glad to know!!
after finishing up a gruesome murder accompanied by his accomplice, Billy, Stu ended up near your place. Picture this: he's walking down the street, fleeing from the morbid crime he had just committed, and oops, there's your house all lit up like a Friday night. Curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't resist checking it out.
Stu's not your typical guest, and you're not big on inviting folks over. No need to bother with doorbells for him. Instead, he takes the unconventional route and climbs up to your unconventionally opened window.
So, there he is, peeping through, his eyes scanning your room , then his gaze falling on your body, trying his hardest not to make any noise that might startle you. You're having a regular chat with your friend, over the phone, not knowing you've got an unexpected audience. Stu's like, "Hey, I'm just here for the showâ but little do you know, he's been high-key obsessed with you, ever since he fist laid his eyes on you.
Lying on your stomach during the phone call,swinging your feet in the air while casually twirling strands of hair. Unbeknownst to you, Stu looms as a silent observer. His gaze, a mix of fascination and a hint of obsession is fixed on every animated expression. The ordinary act of twirling hair and swinging feet becomes an unwitting performance for Stu, who watches with an eerie intensity, emotions oscillating between anticipation and a peculiar connection to the conversation. The air is charged with the unspoken presence of this uninvited spectator. In an unsettling twist, Stu makes a fateful move, generating a subtle noise that draws your attention.
A sense of unease permeates the air as I detect fumbling behind my back, a shiver coursing through as the realization dawnsâwindow is wide open. Dread takes hold; a killer is on the loose, and turning around becomes a perilous decision. Despite the inner turmoil, curiosity prevails, and I slowly shift my body and slowly turn my head back to where the noise was coming from. The visual that greets me is bone-chilling. A visceral scream tears through the air as my eyes meet those of the masked killer, an embodiment of the very fear that lurked in the shadows.
He sensed the fear etched across my face, a pang of regret gnawing at his heart. Contrary to the ominous aura, he harbored no intentions of harm; instead, a fascination with the sight of innocence under the pale moonlight took root within him. "Don't be afraid, baby," he whispered, his emotions masked by the cold exterior of his hidden face.
His tall silhouette loomed above, a revelation that he exceeded my mental image. Gradually, he eased into my personal space, his voice softening the eerie atmosphere. "No harm will come to you from me... I just wanted to get closer to my cute crush." The unexpected confession hung in the air, a disconcerting blend of fear and an oddly misplaced sense of flattery. A chill ran down my spine as his cold, gloved touch made contact with the skin on my cheek. Beneath the black robe and mask, his warmth was an unsettling contrast. Struggling to recognize his voice, an unsettling realization dawned âThe psychotic killer that is terrorizing Woodsboro was inside my room, his hand grazing against my face.
"W-what do you mean? Who are you?" I stammered, the air thick with uncertainty. However, the futility of my inquiry hung in the silence; it was evident he had no intention of revealing his identity. His gloved hand traced a light caress along my cheek, savoring the softness of my skin. With audacious intent, he gently tilted my face upward, our eyes locking beneath the eerie glow of the moonlight. "Call me Ghostface," he uttered, the words hanging in the air.
"P-please don't kill me..." I pleaded, my voice trembling with fear. The Ghostface's touch sent shivers down my spine as he carefully pushed me down onto the bed, his firm grip holding my jaw. His knee positioned in between my legs created a sense of vulnerability. Although the option to run was within reach, a peculiar force seemed to immobilize me, as if my body had taken on a will of its own, drawn to the mysterious enigma of the man on top of me. The room hung heavy with suspense, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over our unsettling connection.
A devilish smile played on Ghostface's lips beneath his masked face as he sensed my lack of resistance. With a sinister grace, he pulled himself closer, a strange yet intense sensation coursing through his entire being as my delicate form pressed against him. "Don't worry, baby... I only wanna play with you," he whispered, the words hanging in the air, dripping with an ominous promise that left the room steeped in an unsettling tension. I gasped in horror as Ghostface pulled out a knife, holding it softly against my neck. "Please..." I pleaded, the dread tightening its grip on my trembling form. Slowly, he ran the blade down my chest, tearing my shirt and exposing a vulnerability that left me in display for him to feast on. A mixture of fear and helplessness hung in the air, as my breath got caught in my throat.
A shiver of anticipation ran through the Ghostface as he felt my soft skin against him. He savored the moment, relishing the intimacy, before teasingly pulling away. "You have beautiful titsâ he remarked, his thumb tracing slow circles on one of my sensitive peaks, the air hung heavy with tension.
âm-mhm- fuck!â A gentle, almost imperceptible sound escaped my lipsâa soft mewlâwhen his cold-gloved fingers delicately traced the contours of my nipple, each touch sending subtle shivers through my whole body.
The Ghostface couldn't help but express his delight through a low grunt, leaning in to whisper, âYou're so captivating... I've dreamt of having you like this.'" My breath caught sharply as he violently tore apart my shirt, the fabric being tossed across the room...
âp-please donât do thisâ My mind recoiled, hesitant and fearful, yet my body, in stark contrast, responded with an undeniable allure. Despite the trepidation, the man behind the mask exuded a captivating charm that stirred within me a sense of arousal, the wet spot on my panties making it impossible to hide.
He smirked behind the mask as you tried to push him away while also reacting to his touch. He slowly trailed his gloved hand down your stomach, making your skin tingle in anticipation âI won't do anything you don't want, baby." His hand found its way to the hem of your panties, slowly pushing them down to reveal your shivering and oh so damp folds. The scent of arousal was overpowering in the small room, making him even harder than before. He leaned in closer, his hot breath caressing your neck âYou're so wet for me... It's like you want it."
My palms met his chest, pressing them flat against it, detecting a subtle firmness. "I'm going to call the cops," I stammered, my voice wavering. His eyes met mine as I felt the warmth of his chest beneath my hands.A sly grin adorned his lips, and he remarked, "Go ahead, make the call. But can they beat the clock?" The room seemed to pulse with tension as I hesitated, torn between the urge to reach for my phone and the magnetic pull of the man before me. His eyes held a challenge, daring me to follow through on my threat.
As the seconds stretched, I could sense the weight of his challenge in the air. The room became a battleground of wills, my hand still lingering on his chest. The unspoken tension crackled, I decided that it was best for me not to piss him off. The Ghostface smirked, enjoying your confusion. âGood choice, princess... but don't be surprised if my next move leaves you drenched." He slowly pushed his middle through your wet folds, moaning quietly as he felt just how ready you were for him. He pulled his finger out and teased your swollen clit in slow circles making it throb against his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips involuntarily as his touch sent shivers through me, his thumb pressing wet circles on my hardened nub . "F-fuck-Please don't do this," I whispered, my plea hanging in the charged air between us.
He continued toying with you, feeling your body become more and more aroused under his fingertips. He leaned in closer and whispered softly in your ear âYou're such a tease, baby... making me hard for you." His voice was low and seductive as he felt your wetness begin to drip onto his finger. The realization struck him like lightningâ he knew, in that very moment, that he desired you.
Flushed with embarrassment, I found myself incapable of pulling away or resisting. My pussy was glistening with my arousal, my body succumbing gradually to the allure of his touch. "D-don't," I stammered, the plea escaping my lips amid the internal struggle.Ghostface sensed your body yielding to him and couldn't resist any longer.
With a sudden movement, he slipped two long fingers into your wet cunt making you gasp in surprise. He slid them in and out slowly savoring the feeling of your warmth surrounding him. His other hand cupped your left breast, fondling it softly, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath the latex of his glove. âs-stop!â i whimpered faintly, the feeling of his middle finger inside my aching core was heady mixture of intoxication and delight sweeping over me, compelling my fingers to delicately clench the bedsheets beneath my quivering body, each thread bearing witness to the intensity of the moment.
He chuckled softly, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down on you. His fingers found your sweet spot and began to tease it mercilessly, causing your hips to buck up against him in desperation. "Do you like that, hmm?"
With a gradual nod, I acknowledged my surrender. Lost in his touch, the resistance that once lingered vanished; I no longer felt the need to push him away.
The Ghostface saw your submission and pushed his fingers deeper inside you, curling them to maximize your pleasure. Your breathing grew heavier as the sensation began to consume you, making you feel like a bundle of fire. âI'll give you what you want... just let me have my fill." He watched with satisfaction as your body arched under his touch. His other hand reached over to your core and circled your clit in time with his fingers, driving you closer and closer to the edge. With a groan, he leaned in closer, his masked face against your ear. "You're mine nowâ. He coos. In that shared moment of lust and pure passion, the room seemed to shrink, enveloping us in a cocoon of intimacy. We were entangled in a dance, where every touch, and every pump of his fingers inside my sopping hole spoke more than words possibly could.
âmâgonna cum~âi grunted softly, my hips bucking onto his fingers, my back slightly arching off the bed, spit was dripping down my mouth. The scene unfolded like a clichĂŠ scenario from a porn movie, akin to something you might find on a Blockbuster rental shelfâundeniably sensual and provocative. He felt your pussy clamp around his fingers as you reached the peak of pleasure.
He rode the wave with you, relishing every tremble until it slowly subsided. His eyes roved over your flushed and sweat-drenched body, making him even harder âThat's it baby, cum for me." his fingers kept pumping inside of me as I milked my orgasm, my whole body shook in pleasure, soft gasps leaving my body âf-fuckâŚâ I muttered, my chest rising up and down softly as I came down from the high of the wrecking orgasm.
He pulled his fingers out slowly, coating them with your arousal. He brought them up to his mask and breathed in deeply, savoring your scent before trailing them over your sensitive clit âYou're delicious, baby."
A loud moan involuntarily escaped my mouth in response to the unexpected slap across my drenched cunt. "O-ow!" I exclaimed, the sting resonating with a mixture of surprise and discomfort.
The Ghostface's wicked laughter echoed, a chilling soundtrack to my discomfort. "You wanted it, now take it like a good girl," his words, laced with dominance, hung in the air, adding a layer of intensity to the unfolding scene. "Why are you leaving?" I questioned, the vulnerability in my voice evident, as he stood up from the bed and adjusted his robe. My gaze followed him as he walked towards the window. A smile played on his lips, but you couldnât see it. He looked down at me over his shoulder. "I'll see you soon. Don't forget our little secret," he whispered before vanishing from sight.
Left in his wake, a mix of arousal and puzzlement lingered, the room now filled with the aftermath of an enigmatic encounter.
Confusion swept over me, grappling with the surreal reality of the town's masked murderer appearing in my room, fingering me, and then abruptly vanishing as if nothing. The experience felt terrifyingly unbelievable, leaving me bewildered in its wake.
#stu macher#stu matcher x reader#stu matcher x you#stu matcher imagine#scream#billy loomis#scream 1996#scream fanart#stu macher smut#stu macher x you#slashers#slasher movies#stuart macher#matthew lillard
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đđđCONGRATULATIONS ON ANOTHER HUNDRED fans, YOU ABSOLUTE BEAUTYYY đđđ
Now, to celebrate, if you had to rewrite all the twilight novels, in short, what would take place?
This is a hefty ask so feel free to cut it down as much as preferable.
(I.e. New Moon; Bella gets rebound. Volturi sub subsumes Edward. Carlisle cries. Then goes on a find himself venture where he ends up livinâ his best life đ)
this has been sitting in my inbox for a real minute. i can only apologise but wow what a good and also colossal question. i can only thank you
I'm not usually one to shy away from long ass text posts and i love giving needless detail which is why if i were to answer this as thoroughly as i want to, I'd likely never finish. this would get so fuckin long. Why? bc bro i'd change just about everything. Twilight is full of so many fantastic ideas but they're all executed terribly and with vehement racism. i love twilight i just hate all the canon content. i literally just wanna change all the plot but that makes me think about so many possible au scenarios that i'd love to explore and they'd all require their own posts to do so, so for the dash's sake im jus gonna go through the saga book by book
Twilight
Bella moves to Forks from Arizona to live with her dad that she hasn't spent much time with in a while. Things are awkward and not just because they're not so familiar with each other but because they're both awkward people and I love that. Over time, being better understood and taken care of by Charlie, she comes to realise that her mom was actually super shitty, even if she didnt exactly mean to be. She starts to realise she has a good amount of childhood to mourn. But I think Charlie could do more in terms of fathering - I think he should be a better cook (he has taken care of himself for several years like he says) because Bella taking up the cooking for this parent too doesn't sit as right with me - especially because it informs nothing else about the plot. Let Bella be a child again.
This brings me to my next point about the human crew: Bella being a child means that Bella should get friends. And she should CHERISH that. She's so quick to ditch the humans when she finds some supernatural emo to hang out with and it sucks. Jessica, Angela and Bella becoming a powerful and tight af little trio would have been fantastic. I think Bella could then do wayy better at bridging the gap between the Cullens and the humans.
I think Bella needs to not fawn over Edward so much. Not saying she shouldn't be quite as obsessed as him as she is - she's 17, let her live - I just think that her obsession should come from the fact that this guy is creepy af and super morbid. I think she should obsess over him the way I obsess over true crime stories - morbid fascination and curiosity. I mean the guy is weird af, it'd be great if Bella called him out thoroughly on all his whackass behaviour. I also think it would serve to give us a lot more funny scenes. That post where she slides a copy of dracula across the table and he slides it back signed? Yes. What i'm saying is, fans know that this typa friendship would evolve into a wayyyy more compelling romance than simply brood, brood, sparkle, endanger, save, brood.
More of the above but Bella inviting the Cullens over to the lunch table (or maybe just Ed and Alice as they're in the same year) would be fantastic. And instead of that whole "the Cullens are so hot so no one talks to them", let it be "the Cullens are so weird??? like dr sexy and mommy milf are bomb but the kids do not know how to act" because that would make for some more really great interactions. Mostly tho, Edward needs to interact w more people. He hears peoples thoughts and yet learns nothing about them because he's so sure he interprets other's thoughts in The Correct Way. I feel like actually chatting to Mike and Ben and Jess would give him some necessary humbling. Also,, Mike and Edward ending up as friends?? Alice and Jess?? would get on no?
Everything else can proceed as is but let the older Cullens rag on Ed a bit more. Bella has hugely rose-tinted glasses on when it comes to him like "omg he can play piano too? what a perfect specimen" and it'd be great to hear from characters that know him better to balance that out and correct the unreliable narrator. I also think this'd give us a better chance to explore the specific dynamics in this very complex type of family. The idea that Esme and Carlisle are seen as everyone's parents when theyre like a few years older than everyone else is just so unrealistic. It'd be wayy more interesting to see the precise types of relationships that occur within the family.
This brings me to my next point quite neatly: the whole parent situation. I don't believe the two twenty somethings can or would be convincing parents, to the kids or to strangers. Just because sm*yer thinks 30 yr olds are old and dicrepit, doesnt mean the rest of us do. So i'd personally make Vommy and Vaddy in their late 40s, early 50s for the sheer pilfacity of it all. That's not to say I hate their ages as they are - there's certainly a beautiful and heartbreaking tragedy to their incredibly painful and short human lives. So if you wanna keep them young, thas cool but then their dynamics w the kids need to change. Either way they're both still hot as balls. I think Esme should have a very motherly role to Emmett and Edward and a sort of guardian relationship with Jalice. She's incredibly close with Rose but more as a wise older sister or fun aunt. Their stories are strikingly similar in regards to their experiences of men, and yet they deal with it in incredibly different ways - let them be besties, let them learn from each other and find comfort in each other the way that sisters often do. Conversely, I'd give Carlisle a very paternal relationship with Rose and Edward and takes charge of Jalice in a similar way to Esme (coven-leader style). Emmett on the other hand makes him feel young and boyish and Carlisle views him like a charming and dear son-in-law. AND I'D MAKE THEM ALL INTERACT A HELL OF A LOT MORE.
I'm talking Esme giving chores, Carlisle telling Edward to "listen to you're mother", the two of them being cute and adorable and the kids all groding out bc Bella should get to see what real love is.
When Bella does find out that they're all vampires, she needs to be violently curious. Talk about the logistics of periods sm*yer so help me god. I want her to have heaps of questions for them. Constant, just all the time. She wants to see Emmett down a redbull just to know how that would affect a vampire, she finds things for Edward to very boredly snap in half with his little finger, she compiles a list of questions for Carlisle everytime Edward takes her over to his house. Am I projecting now? Too bad idc.
I didn't really have an issue w the whole James thing and I'm actually glad it was more Edward's behaviour that caused the whole beef bc I like when he's in the wrong lol? But when Renee shows up at the end, let Bella's internal monologue note the fact that Renee hardly cares at all what is going on. I think Bella needs to have that interaction w her old life in Arizona to truly reaffirm at the end of the story that she belongs in Forks. Not with the Cullens or Edward, but in Forks w her weird interspecies friendship group, her awkward and caring dad and her just-about-flowering love interest.
Baseball scene was great though I wouldnt have had Esme just trauma dump on the poor teen out of nowhere. Maybe something plot related could happen that reveals some of her story? Just an idea smeyer. Say the presence of the other vampires makes her uncharacteristically nervous. Say the growling between James and Edward freaks her out bc its a sure sign that violence is about to ensue. You get what i'm saying
Also I'd make Emmett canonically Black, Alice canonically Asian-American (if anyone has any specific thoughts on this pls hit me up) and Esme canonically Ashkenazi Jewish. It'd take a single sentence for each and it would rock my socks.
New Moon
I'm gonna start this one by saying that I actually liked New Moon which is weird considering I live and die for carlesme content. But in regards to Bella's story, I think it was interesting to have the Cullens fuck off for a bit. But then, if Twilight had have panned out with a more convincing and healthy romance, I dont think that seperation would have been necessary.
Either way, I know immediately, I'd want more of that classic Bella and the Cullen kids at school scenario. All of that juicy content is barely washed over in the start of new moon and it sucks bc the Cullens at school is such a hilarious concept to me. So maybe we wouldn't start w Bella's birthday but we'd get more of her Junior year, and more of the budding romance - I'm talking that real lame high school shit. Passing notes in class, gossiping in the hallways, going round to his house after school to 'study'.
So anyway, her birthday rolls around and Jasper nuts over a singular drop of blood - give me a deeper description of Esme trying to control herself bc she is known to have little control and the idea of cuddly caring mommy trying not to go feral and eat you is deliciously terrifying - and Edward loses the plot and leaves. But he DOESNT do the whole Gatekeep Girlboss Gaslight routine where he just completely erases himself from her life. He tells her the real reason they have to leave - she's not safe - and she is mad and does not accept it but at least he was honest.
Then she gets hella depressy as per the book, only this time Charlie properly steps in BECAUSE WHO IS BETTER ON THE SUBJECT OF SUDDEN BREAK UP THAN THAT POOR BASTARD? He ends up taking her to the Blacks where she revives another part of the childhood that needed mourning - her friendship with Jacob.
I love Jacob in NM and I do not hate his crush on Bella. But he is like two years younger than Bella. That's not a big deal if they're in their twenties but there is a big developmental difference between an 18 year old and a 16 year old. She should, by no means, fancy him back. And I never really got the vibe that she did in the book. In fact I loved his sweet pining because his friendship with her came first. She needed a friend and he was willing to step up to the plate. And Bella considering a life with him? That rubs me the wrong way because not only is he quite a bit younger but she also be going through it. Give the girl some time before you give her another love interest, smeyer.
So then Jacob turns (none of the wolves cut their hair for this in my rewrite, fuck off) and there's not really all that much I would change with the rest of the book, in terms of plot. Though the tension between Jacob and Edward coming back should be nothing to do with his crush, just to be clear. It should be to do with upsetting Bella and, ultimately, endangering her, Jacob's entire family, and the entire town of Forks with his very presence.
The end of NM kinda fucked me off a little. First, Harry Clearwater's death was completely washed over. I'd love him to have survived but even if he didn't, wayyyy more of the book should have centrered around that loss. This time, Bella is the one to try to heal and help others. She is not the victim and that is freeing for her. Not to mention, Jacob, Leah, Seth, Billy, ffs even Charlie, would have all needed support. Bella should have been there. That's her family.
Secondly, the entire ending was just Bella being like "I cannot sleep for a moment because this is a dream that he's back I love him so much." No. Bella, you found yourself in an Edwardless Forks. You found your childhood friends, you connected with your dad on a profound and vulnerable level, you had to reconcile your perception of the world with the presence of MORE supernaturals in ways that went far beyond your crush on Ned. Bella moved beyond the need for Edward and she should have made him well aware of this. She should have shown him that she now runs with humans and werewolves and she has friends and family and Harry's death is just another painful reminder that there is more going on in her life now than just the crush she had in junior year. Edward should simply be another addition in her whackass life, not the whole of it. Edward being humbled by this new badass, scorned Bella? That's a compelling romance. Bella making the distinction between needing and wanting him is a compelling romance.
Also recentering Bella's story away from her romance with Edward would give us more room for very necessary world-building. We got the tiniest smidge of vamp history and culture w the Volturi in NM and then nothing else for basically the rest of the saga and I reckon thats because Bedward pining took up too much time. So now with Edward in the background a little more, we get necessary interactions between Bella and the other Cullens, and their experiences of vampirism. Even just passing comments on coven politics or vampire mannerisms (Esme purring) or vampire history or maybe other supernatural creatures?? there's gotta be more than just shape shifters and vampires?? or even just tidbits from their experience of history - would have been so immersive smh
Eclipse:
Okay so now im changing a lot of shit.
First off, Jacob remains Jacob. He is young, world on his shoulders, going through a lot. But an assaulter? Hell no. Jacob loves Bella and is slowly limping over his crush on her.
Newborns army is wreaking havoc in Seattle only this time, when Jasper mentions he was a confederate soldier, Bella loses her goddamn mind as she fucking should have. Or better yet, Jasper could just?? not be a confederate soldier?
If Alice so much as tries her racist shit with the Quileutes, Bella can equally chew her out. This is Bella's story dammit and the Cullens are on thin ice as it is for what they did to her in NM. Now she's a bad bitch and now she has a real spine and doesnt tolerate crap.
The wolves and the vamps have to reluctantly work together to defeat this army and this time IT DOESNT ALL GO THROUGH BELLA. Rosalie and Jacob get along on account of them both being into mechanical engineering and both thinking Edward is a toolbag. Equally, Seth and Esme are both little bottles of sunshine and I need at least a passing comment about them chatting in the field together. Also Leah and Emmett? I feel should have had a chance to get along with each other. She was fucking going through it man, she needed wayyyyy more screen time. Her story was heart wrenching.
The battle ensues and Edward does not follow Bella and Jacob to the cliff top. This does give Jacob and Bella a chance to talk, to air out the romantic feelings and where they're at. In truth, I think Jacob has too much going on in his life now. He's mourning so much of his childhood, as well as Seth's now, that romance would feel like another loss at this stage. That conversation needed to happen. And then hooray! Victoria doesnt follow them to the cliff and Edward can get his heroic murder of her afterall. I would like to have seen the battle though, so I think Jacob being called back to frontline for whatever reason (and having to bring Bella with him ofc) would be sweet. Then we can have Bella confront the true violence of vampirism.
Also aftermath. We need Bella to understand the aftermath of that battle. For example, Esme struggling to cope with the violence she's just witnessed and exercised, Alice being injured, Carlisle performing vampire surgery to leech stranger's venom from his children's wounds. They should have been more affected by this battle imo.
Breaking Dawn:
never happens
at the end of Eclipse the Volturi show up and realise just how insanely powerful the Cullens are, especially with their ubelievably strong new allies that are designed to kill vampires. They report back to Aro who's obviously going to want to mount an attack against them all. Then we get sexy Carlisle bringing in his sexy vampire friends (for more world building!). At this point I think it'd be cool if we include more species. Siobhan has half-fairy friends? Benjamin tells stories of real serpopods? Nice.
The night before the battle Alice has her vision. She shows Aro on the day of the chaos. Very few survive the battle if it goes ahead. Bella does, but only once she is turned. Carlisle, famously, does not. Neither does Aro, but this time it's Esme that slaughters him, full Molly Weasely style.
Aro changes his mind, with a very wary glance to sweet, unassuming, unaware little Esme and they head home to Italy to not think about bothering the Cullens or their many friends.
Then the Cullens make the decision to move away from Forks. Their presence has posed too much danger to the human residents, not to mention the absolute havoc they've wreaked for the Quileutes. They move on, Billy makes Carlisle promise to never come back. Carlisle keeps it. So Bella is left with a decision to make. Follow the vampires? Stay with her human friends and family? i dont have a conclusion worked out for that, sorry
#ask#youareonlyastory#im sorry it took so long but boy you really asked a question#and there was like a move and a new job somewhere in the middle but im finally done!#my personal bird flipping to renesmee#the world would have simply been better without her in it <3#twilight rewrite
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3. Please hold my hand.
I didnât forget about prompt #2! I just had an idea for #3 and Iâm doing these prompts in whichever order I feel like. If you have any requests for the next prompt, as you want to see it sooner than later, simply message me! The prompt list is here and I am more than willing to write it! :)
this is going to be a long one, so I hope you enjoy, I spent a long time on it <3
masterlist
Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader
TW: Graphic depictions of crime
Summary: Spencer gives up hope for himself way too easily.
>>>These will all probably be Spencer Reid X Reader unless someone requests something different :) Also, this one I will leave up for interpretation- if you want to view it as romantic, it can be, or if you want to view this as platonic, it can be!
âSo, we know that our unsub tends to kill quickly. He uses a long dagger, and slits the victims throats from just below the jaw and drags it all around. The victims die almost instantly.â Hotch spoke.
âWell, then I guess we can rule out sexual sadist. Thereâs no sexual component to the crimes, and the kill is quick.â I replied, examining the photos on the board in front of us.
âYes, but also the autopsy report from the past three victims shows that they were missing for eight hours before they were killed, so we donât know what heâs doing to them during that time.â Spencer rebuked my claim. Of course, the genius has something to say.
âWhile that may be true, there are no obvious wounds on the victim other than the slit throat. While one of the three victims also had a stab wound in her side, this was likely just to slow down the victim, as there was skin beneath her fingernails. She probably tried to escape. But none of the other victims have any other wounds, so while he held them for 8 hours, he didnât touch them.â
Spencer chuckled. âYes, Y/N, but I think we can both agree you donât need to physically touch someone in order to torture them.â I nodded. Thatâs very true.
Morgan coughed. âWell, now that weâve discussed the possibility that our suspect is a sexual sadist and have been unable to agree on a concise point..â He trailed off. âWhatâs next? Why does he target females in their forties?â
Emily glanced up. âHe probably had some sort of rejection from a female in his life, who fit the description that his victims have in common. Tall, white, brunette. Maybe a girl he liked, or his girlfriend, or even his mother. Either way, some sort of traumatic life event caused him to strike out like this.â
Hotch intervened. âWe can discuss this more on the jet. Grab your go-bags, wheels up in 30. Weâve been asked to come to California, where these crimes are occurring.â He left the room without another word.
âWell, this should be an interesting case.â
-*-*-*-*-*-
I took my usual seat on the jet between Prentiss and Reid. Morgan sat across from me with Hotch and Rossi on either side of him, and JJ generally sat to the side alone, since she liked to catch up on her sleep the moment we were able to.
After debriefing for a while, the team had come to the conclusion that the killer was likely a male between the ages 20 to 30 who had felt rejected by his mother at a young age. She likely kicked him out of the house, where he found solace in some hobby that would hopefully be identifiable at the scene. Due to the precision of the cuts, the unsub likely has knowledge in the medical field, and may even work in a hospital. This would be the first place we would check when we landed.
âGood work, team. Try to get some rest in before we land.â Hotch stood and moved to the front of the jet, where he probably wouldnât take his own advice.
I squirmed in my seat, trying to get into a comfortable position. Everyone around me had already fallen asleep. Or so I thought.
âHaving trouble, Y/L/N?â I sheepishly glanced up at the voice, coming from none other than Spencer Reid.
I sighed. âI canât get comfortable. Iâm exhausted and got no sleep last night, yet I canât seem to fall asleep.â Spencer offered me a small smile and patted on his shoulder, nodding down at it.
I blinked. âAre you sure? I really donât want to be a both-â âI really donât mind, Y/N.â I smiled in thanks and rested my head on his shoulder. âThanks, Reid.â I murmured, already sleepy. He was so warm.. and smelled like strong cologne.
I fell asleep quicker than Iâd like to admit.
-*-*-*-*-*-
âThis is gold.â
I woke to the sound of giggling and photo shutters. Still dreary, I groaned quietly and attempted to burrow myself deeper into my pillow.
However the pillow felt a lot more solid than usual.
I slowly opened one eye to see Emily, JJ, and Morgan peering over me. Morgan held his phone, taking countless photos, while Emily chuckled quietly and JJ rolled her eyes in amusement.
âWhatâs going on? Did we land?â I rubbed my eyes tiredly before looking beside me and realizing I was practically straddling Reid. I jumped in surprise, scrambling off of him, which caused him to wake and the others to laugh.Â
âMorning sleepyhead, sleep well?â Morgan teased.
âActually, I did. Did we land?â His groggy voice took me by surprise. I felt my cheeks tinge, knowing the rest of the team had caught me basically cuddling into him as we slept. Screw Reidâs chest for being so comfortable! I usually sleep with a body-sized pillow, and in my sleep, I must have mistaken Spencer for it.
âYes, lovebirds, we landed.â Emily laughed at us, walking off the jet, JJ following shortly behind.
Reid shot me a look of confusion. âLovebirds?â He looked to the side, trying to recall his memory, before his eyebrows likely shot up in realization. âRight, uh, well... Iâm just going to go meet the others.â
Spencer walked away, scratching behind his neck in embarrassment. Morgan sent me an amused look. âGot anything you wanna admit, Y/N?â He shoved his phone in my face, showing me the photo of me sprawled across Spencer. I had one leg stretched across him, my head on his shoulder, and a hand on his chest. Meanwhile, Reid was resting his own head on mine, while his free hand was wrapped around my waist. If I had seen this photo of anyone else, I would have immediately assumed that they were a couple. Even looking at the photo, Iâd be lying if I said it wasnât adorable. But this was Spencer and I. That would never happen.
I rolled my eyes. âSo childish. Thereâs nothing going on between us.â I shoved him playfully before joining the rest of the team outside the plane.
Hotch stared down Morgan and I as we left the jet. âAlright, is everyone all set? No more groping before we leave?â His face was deadpan however there was a hint of humor to his eyes. My jaw dropped, trying to hide a smile. JJ, Emily, and Morgan burst out laughing, while Reid covered his face with his hands to cover his red face. We walked toward the car that was waiting for us, Morgan highfiving Hotch as he passed him.
âNot cool, Hotch..â Reid grumbled.
-*-*-*-*-*-
When we arrived at the crime scene, all traces of humor were lost. The jokes had been forgotten, as we strode up to the police tape and began analyzing the scene.
Hotch turned toward us. âAlright. Y/N, Emily, Reid, and I will analyze the scene, while Morgan, Rossi, and JJ will go to speak with hospitals around the area. Anything you can find will help.â We all nodded and set off to begin our tasks.
Emily looked at the photos as she examined the scene, to ensure that nothing had been moved. Emily, Reid, and I headed toward the bedroom, where the crime had been committed. I fell behind slightly, pulling Spencer back with me to talk as we walked.
âHey, about earlier, Iâm sorry. I guess I get kinda handsy when I sleep.â I chuckled. Spencer grinned. âItâs fine, Y/N, in case you hadnât noticed, you werenât exactly alone.â We laughed and nodded. There were no hard feelings, and we both were content. It was time to focus entirely on the case.
âHey, I found something!â
Reid and I quickly moved into the room. Emily was on the floor, below the victimâs desk.
â...Um, Em? What are you doing?â I stepped closer to her, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Emily took a photo with her phone, before crawling out and showing us the picture. Beneath the desk, there were strips of paper, seemingly cut out of a book, glued to the underside. We read the quotes, trying to decipher them.
The first quote read. âYour worm is your only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to feed us, and we fat ourselves for maggots.â âThis is from Hamlet.â Emily and I gazed at Reid expectantly. âThis quote is known to reference the morbid obsession with death that Hamlet holds. These quotes werenât chosen randomly. Iâd assume that not only has our unsub read Hamlet several times, heâs also analyzed every line in order to fully comprehend what each segment means. Heâs basically saying that death is inevitable, as we all will succumb to it eventually. Our unsub is confident, and is flaunting the control he has in causing the deaths of his victims.â
âThat explains the single slice to kill them.â Emily comments. I nodded. âTrue. The unsub seems to have some sort of obsession with control, as if he prides himself in it.â
We moved on to the next quote, that read, âYou canât ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.â Emily and I looked over at Spencer. He paused for a moment before nodding. âWhen Breath Becomes Air. Dr. Paul Kalanithi wrote this. Itâs the autobiography of a neurosurgeon.â
I furrowed my eyebrows. âHe reads books related to medicine, as well? He must be very dedicated to his job.â Spencer skimmed through the rest of the quotes. âOr self-taught...â He trailed off. âThe rest of these quotes are also from medical books. Either we were scarily on point with out assumption of his job, due to how much he studies them in his spare time.. or the profile is wrong. He may not even be a doctor at all.â
We all looked at each other.
âThe only other quote that doesnât belong to some sort of book about medicine is the quote âIt was extraordinary, now, how clear her mind became all of a sudden.â Lamb to the Slaughter. âAll of these quotes are somehow related to him and to murder. He wanted us to find these.â Spencer announced.
Emily sighed. âIsnât this a bit too much effort for a serial killer focused on revenge?â âNot if he was psychotic already. Perhaps thatâs the reasoning behind his mother kicking him out when he was younger? He might have shown some sort of signs of psychopathy and due to the differing times, there was more of a stigma around mental issues. She likely made him feel as if he was alone.â
I paused, looking at Emilyâs phone when something caught my eye. They both glanced at me. âY/N?â
Grabbing a tissue, I crawled on the ground and looked around, spotting what I had seen in the photo. I picked it up with the tissue, and showing it to Reid and Prentiss. Peeking slightly from beneath the desk, as if it had slipped from the unsubs grasp, was a small slip of paper, tallied with 18 marks. The pen color changed throughout the paper.
They furrowed their brows and looked up at me. I sighed.
âThereâs more victims than we are aware of.â
-*-*-*-*-*-
After informing Hotch what information we gathered from the victims bedroom, he called JJ, expecting that they wouldnât have found anymore information.
However, surprisingly, they had.
Within the past 8 months, there had been atleast ten victims who came in with similar wounds as our victims, however the cuts werenât as clean. There were mistakes, such as jagged marks, or the slice wasnât deep enough, or there were several slices around the body rather than one slit in the throat. They had never tied the murders to our current investigation because of the differences in attacks.
âHe was practicing...â Reid realized. âY/N was right. Thereâs more victims than we initially realized.â
Hotch dialed Garcia.
 âYour brilliant and beautiful is speaking, how may I be of assistance?â âGarcia, I need you to look for any cases of stabbings in the past 12 months in our area, primarily attacks that are focused near the throat.â
âYour wish is my command, my gorgeous friend.â The sound of typing ensued. âAlright, in the past 12 months, the furthest attack was 9 months ago, and there are 26 documented attacks, 22 of which are focused around the neck.â Hotch spoke, âAlright, now can you narrow that list down to brunette females between the ages of 35 and 45, above the height of 5â˛6âł.â â13 results.â The team shared a look and nodded.Â
âThat sounds about right, as we canât assume that all of his attacks went reported. Before he became serial, he probably began covering his tracks.â
I thought for a moment. âIf our unsub is attacking victims that resemble his mother, wouldnât it be likely if his mother was one of his victims?â
Reid glanced at me and nodded in agreement. âItâs common that serial killers who kill for revenge often kill people who resemble their actual target, however over time the high dies down as they know they arenât killing who they actually wanted to kill. Our killer probably killed a few victims before killing his mother herself. After killing so many people, heâd gotten a taste for it and became unable to stop.â
Hotch spoke again to Garcia. âGarcia, can you look for how many of those victims have children in their 20s or 30s?â âOf course I can... There are 4.â
-*-*-*-*-*-
Hotch gathered the information from Garcia regarding where their families lived, and we decided that we would split up and speak with them in the morning. In the meantime, we would spend the night in a hotel. We all got separate rooms, and we were told to rest well, as tommorow would take a lot of strength.
I got to my room and took a shower, taking my time and enjoying the feeling of the burning water on my back. Today had been a long day, but the trip over was the best I slept in ages, so I couldnât really complain.
After showering and getting into pajamas, I slid under my covers, although unsurprisingly, I was unable to sleep. I settled for scrolling on my phone in bed, hoping that sleep would eventually take over me. While looking at Rossiâs Instagram photos from a party he went to last weekend, I heard faint shouting from down the hall. I checked the time to see it was nearly 1 in the morning.
Confused and worried, I grabbed my robe, and my gun, and walked over to the door. I opened it, to find none other than Spencer Reid, fist hovering over the door as if about to knock.
He jumped back in surprise at my appearance at the door. âUh!- Y/N! Youâre awake!â I raised an eyebrow at him and took in his appearance. He wore a friendly smile, however the creases in his brow and the bags under his eyes were impossible to not notice.
âSpencer? What are you doing here?â He looked down at the ground. âI uh.. I couldnât sleep.â I tilted my head to the side in confusion and he continued. âIâm sorry, I shouldnât have come over, itâs just that I know youâre always up late and you have trouble sleeping yourself sometimes and I-â I cut him off. âSpencer, did you want to come in?â He smiled softly and walked in as I stepped aside.
âThanks. Sorry again.â âThereâs no need to apologize, Spencer. Are you okay?â He grinned tightly. âOf course. Iâm just exhausted, yet canât sleep and I didnât really want to be alone. I can just crash on the couch.âÂ
I scoffed. âSpencer, donât be ridiculous. You can take the bed.â He shook his head. âNo, Y/N, itâs yours, I canât ask you to sleep on the couch in your own room.â I thought for a moment. âWould you be okay if we slept in the bed together? Obviously nothing would happen, but we both canât sleep and I think weâve realized that we sleep better near eachother.âÂ
Spencerâs cheeks tinged at the mention of this morning. âY-Yeah, thatâs okay with me.â I smiled and sat beside him in the bed.
He looked over at me, tilting his head in surprise. âY/N, do you sleep with your makeup on?â
I laughed softly. âWhat are you talking about, Reid?â He ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to proceed. A smile spread across my face as I realized what he was implying. âSpencer, Iâm not wearing makeup.â
Reidâs eyebrows rose in surprise. âOh!- Uh, sorry then. I just... thought you were.â I grinned before sliding down, staring at the ceiling above us.
âSpencer, how long have you had night terrors?â
He froze for a moment, before shifting uncomfortably. âWhat happened to not profiling our coworkers?â I turned to face him. âIf you donât want to talk about it, itâs fine. Iâm just worried about you.â He sighed before turning to face me as well.Â
âIâve always had them, they just got a lot worse once joining the BAU. And it seems like the more cases we do, the worse they get.â I nodded. âHave you ever seen someone about it?â âOnce, but I had to stop because I criticized their techniques since I knew more about what they were doing than they did.âÂ
Laughter bubbled in my throat. âOnly you, Spence.â We laughed together for a bit before a comfortable silence settled between us.Â
âY/N?â âYeah?â âThank you.â
I smiled. âOf course, Spencer.â He hugged me, and we remained in the position, and I fell asleep to the scent of pine and cinnamon.
-*-*-*-*-*-
âAlright, the groups will be as follows- Emily and Y/N, Morgan and Reid, JJ and Rossi, and I will go alone. We will split up to interview these families. Keep in mind that theyâve just lost a loved one. If anyone happens to find anything, inform us and we will meet up. Do not engage with the unsub if you happen to find any information. Your reasoning will fall upon deaf ears. Understood?â
We nodded, and set off. I sipped my coffee, reminding me of the events of this morning. When I woke up, Spencer was gone. I assumed that he left so that things werenât awkward again in the morning, until he returned. He had brought all of us coffee, and thanked me again for last night. I grinned at the coffee he gave me, as he remembered that I take it black. Beside the fact that he has an eidetic memory which helps him remember these things, it was still a sweet gesture.
After about an hour or so of speaking with the family, we realized there was no way that this was our unsubâs family. Their dynamic was too loving and there was no resentment that could be seen between any of the children. All of the children were also present, and none of them gave any noticeable reaction or indication that they were guilty when we discussed the murders.
As Emily and I headed back to the car, we received a call from Morgan. âHey, girls. I think weâve found our guy. The dude had one sibling who explained that his brother always had a tense relationship with his mother. His name is Chase Matthews. Garciaâs currently trying to locate him right now. His brother said he would be at work at this time, but he isnât sure where he works because he isnât necessarily involved in his life. Chase was also kicked out of their house when he was younger because his anger tended to scare their mother. If we can find where he works, then we can find him. â
I thought for a moment before a realization crossed my mind. âA butcher-shop.â
Emily looked at me. âWhat makes you say that?â âHeâs done extensive research on the quickest way to kill someone, and has been using test subjects until he perfected his technique. If he isnât a doctor himself, a butcher is the perfect job for practicing slaughter. He even tried to tell us with the quote from Lamb to the Slaughter.â
Morgan responded, âGood work, gorgeous. Iâll tell Garcia to look for butcher-shops in the area and Iâll text you and the others the address.â
When he hung up, I received a text moments later.
Only butcher shop in the town. Gotta be here.
We left to the address and arrived only moments after Reid and Morgan, as we were closest to the location. We met up with them, to see Morgan on the phone.Â
âAre you serious? Ugh. Thanks Garcia.â He hung up before turning to us. âGarcia says that for this shop, Matthewsâ shift ends in five minutes. We canât risk him coming outside and seeing the cop cars when they arrive along with all of the agents standing outside of the building. We canât wait for the others. We have to move now or weâll lose him.â
Spencer interrupted, âBut didnât Hotch say-â âI know what Hotch said. But this is our only shot.âÂ
We nodded before heading inside. Emily showed her badge to the worker at the front. âWeâre with the FBI. Weâre looking for a Chase Matthews.â
Immediately, clashing sounded from the back, and a door slammed. We all rushed toward the noise and followed him out the door.Â
âChase Matthews!â Morgan screamed. âStop right there!â
And stop he did. Behind the butcher-shop was a town park. Chase grabbed hold of a woman walking the path and held her against him, butcher-knife against her throat.
âAnother step forward and sheâs dead.â
We all stopped in our tracks, guns aimed toward him.
âEveryone get out of here!â Emily yelled out to the others in the park. They quickly abided, leaving the park in a panic.
âDonât come any closer. I can kill her quicker than you can shoot me.â We froze because we knew he was right. He could kill her in just a matter of moments. Regardless, Spencer stepped foward.
âReid what are you-â âIâve got this.â
We watched in anticipation, worry across our features.
âLook, Chase, I know how youâre feeling.â The unsub scoffed. âNo, Iâm being serious. I know how it feels to feel betrayed. I understand how it feels to be rejected. Unwanted.â My heart sunk at his words.
He continued, slowly walking foward.âIt doesnât have to be like this. I know that you felt that killing your mother and anyone who reminded you of her was your only choice. But look at this girl. She looks nothing like your mother. This isnât neccesary, and you know that. I donât think that you want to hurt her.â Chase glanced down at the terrified woman and seemed to be considering his words.
âJust let the girl go, and we can talk about this.â Cautiously, the unsub let the girl go. Emily quickly pulled her away from the man and comforted her.
âThank you. Now please, thereâs no need for weapons. Discard your knife.â
Chase glared at Reid. âIâm not an idiot. All of you have guns.â
Spencer paused for a moment before placing his gun on the ground before him, and gesturing for us to do the same.
Morgan scoffed. âReid, donât be stupid.â
Spencer glanced at us. âPlease. I know what Iâm doing.â
âThis is a bad idea, Spencer.â I scolded.
âJust trust me.â I frowned and placed my gun on the ground beside me, Emily following suit and Morgan, several glares later, also did.
âThank you. Now please, give me the knife.
The unsub seemed hesitant but nodded, and held out his hand. Spencer slowly took steps forward. As I watched what was about to happen, the faint hint of a smile on Chaseâs face mixed with the knifeâs placement on his hand lead me to understand what was about to happen.
âSpencer, wait!-â But it was too late.
We watched in horror as the unsub gripped the knife in his hand before stabbing Reid just below the ribcage. He fell to the ground, blood pooling out from him, as the unsub sprinted in the opposite direction.
âReid!â I screamed and rushed toward him. Morgan and Emily grabbed their guns and ran to him aswell. âGo, chase after him, Iâll stay with Spencer. What he needs from you right now is to catch him.â Morgan was terrified, but his anger took over and he sprinted after the man faster than Iâd ever seen him run before. Emily followed shortly after.
I quickly dialed 911, and then took off my shirt and placed it over his wound, applying pressure in an attempt to stop the blood-flow. âReid, youâre an idiot, but youâre going to be okay. Hold my hand.â I reached out the hand that wasnât pressed against his abdomen for him to hold.Â
He closed his eyes. âDonât waste your time, Y/L/N. The man knows his anatomy. Heâs probably pierced some sort of vital organ. If the bleeding out doesnât kill me, that will.â
I shook my head, tears glistening in my eyes. âShut up, Spencer, for once you donât know what youâre talking about. Youâre going to be just fine. Just hold my hand.â
When Spencer mentioned that someone can be tortured without anyone physically touching them, this is exactly what that feels like.
Reid coughed. âLets just face the reality, Y/N. Itâs not going to happen.â
I shushed him, voice becoming higher with fear. âReid, stop talking. Save your energy. You are going to be fine. Just, please, for the love of god, please hold my hand.â
Whether it be out of his own fear or pity for me, knowing it would make me feel better, Spencer finally let his hand fall in mine. I kept strong pressure, tears falling down my cheeks, until the paramedics arrived.
-*-*-*-*-*-
âYouâre an idiot. If you werenât in a hospital bed Iâd be slapping you right now.â
Reid laughed weakly. âJeez, itâs great to see you too, Y/N.â
Morgan rushed into the room at the sound of Spencerâs voice. âI canât believe you! Do you understand how worried you made me? I didnât think you were going to wake up!â The anger in Derekâs words were clear and Spencer cringed, knowing he had messed up. His expression softened. Morgan sighed. âIâm just glad youâre okay, kid. I donât know what I would have done without you.â
The team all rushed in and comforted Reid until the doctors came in and told us we all needed to clear out the room. Spencer played dead for a moment, which the doctor found humorous and allowed for one visitor in the room. After much deliberation, I was allowed to stay.
The team left and I was alone with Spencer and the doctors. I grabbed his hand and squeezed softly.
Reid chuckled, recalling the moments after he was stabbed. âYou really just wanna hold my hand, huh, Y/L/N?â
I gasped and feigned offense, laughing with him. âI mean, come on, was it really that hard to just hold my frickinâ hand?â
The laughter died down and I sighed, taking in his appearance. âI feel like this is my fault.â
âY/N, please. Itâs nobodyâs fault but myself. Iâm the one who made you guys drop your weapons. I didnât listen to Hotch saying we wouldnât be able to reason with the unsub, and I paid for it.â
I chuckled. âYeah, that was pretty stupid.â
Spencer turned his head to face me. âThe doctors tell me you saved my life. The knife had just missed a vital organ, so I was wrong again, it really would have been the blood loss that killed me.â
âWow, it must be my lucky day, proving Dr. Spencer Reid wrong twice in one day.â I laughed to which he smiled softly. âIâm serious, Y/N. Thank you.â
I smiled back at him. âAnything for you, Spence.â
-*-*-*-*-*-
God this took me so long to write. I hope you all enjoyed and as always if thereâs a prompt youâd like me to do next let me know!
P.S. Out of curiosity I put this into a machine to count the words and thereâs almost 5000 words in this. Just putting that out there ;p
#cm#criminal#minds#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer#reid#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#reader x spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader fanfiction#derek morgan#jennifer jereau#aaron hotchner#agent rossi#doctor spencer reid#emily prentiss#jeid#moreid#spencer reid prompt
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(DOUGLAS BOOTH, CIS MALE) - Have you seen APOLLO DEMETRIUS BLACKTHORN?  APOLLO is in HIS SENIOR year. The HISTORY MAJOR is 23 years old & is  a SCORPIO. People say HE is CREATIVE, INDEPENDENT, CALLOUS and CYNICAL.  Rumors say theyâre a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog  that HE IS NOT HIS FATHERâS BIOLOGICAL SON.
content warnings for death, drug use ?? i think thats it
heâs cupidâs brother
from a very wealthy family that rose to prominence around 1921, taking power in a variety of places. kind of like the kennedys. likely cursed. apollo claims he doesnât believe in said curse, but the truth is more that he doesnât want to believe in the curse.
moves from highs to lows really quickly â one week heâs extremely extroverted and ready to fight god and the next heâs alone in his dorm ignoring a paper in the name of wondering if he actually has an identity beneath the one that seems to just have been formed to get his familyâs attention / approval / warmth
is honestly very defensive â i donât mean in arguments, but rather when it comes to relationships. heâs the first one to cut and run because he tends to anticipate the fall before it happens. he tells himself he doesnât care about his siblings because heâs honestly convinced they would sell his soul to satan for one corn chip.
nothing is eternal and he really knows this â heâs constantly waiting for death to come âround the corner. or something else, equally dramatic.
bit of a morbid sense of humour that not everyone appreciates.
almost has this idea that the rest of his siblings are gonna have to die if he wants to end up happy and successful which he KNOWS is absolutely wrong and not productive at all but like.... that shitty luck <3
grew up, for the most part, at his parentâs estate in romania but he really liked to travel and would do so often, after he turned sixteen
he thought heâd found a loophole around the curse / bad luck / whatever u wanna call it by simply not dating but this girl he was like FULLY in love w died in a hunting accident when he was fourteen over summer break (theyâd met at boarding school) and he was like. hm. fuck. could be unrelated but.... hm.
so now if he has feelings for someone he just panics. he figured out he was bi and doesnât really have that much internalized homophobia but he DOES have internalized cursephobia. if he thinks heâs into someone regardless of their gender heâll ghost them or start a fight w them intentionally or start deliberately trying to notice their flaws
found out he wasnât his fatherâs son bc he found a letter his mom wrote to his actual father which was never sent
he burned the letter because, at the time, he was terrified of anyone else finding out. heâs pretty sure it was the only evidence.
SUCH a hedonist. he will do whatever he thinks is the most entertaining until a deadline shows up at which point itâs time for apollo to take a ridiculous amount of adderall and finish a ten page paper in three hours. theyâre often riddled with spelling mistakes but they have made some good points. he HATES making up his works cited tho its like pulling teeth w him
relatively responsible driver by day but smth about the night makes him REALLY wanna speed. prone to road... exasperation?? its not rage idk
he has like... contained anger issues like heâs never directed them at anyone he just wanders off to have a fit and then returns. hnstly pretty sure he works out to let off that steam
heâs kind of intelligent but heâs also such a fucking idiot. he had no idea how to cook / do laundry / do ANY of that at all until he was alone at university and, after a week of literally just buying new clothes instead of washing the ones he owned, finally googled how to use a washing machine
absolutely not a monogamist and you should not trust him <3 that said i feel like heâs not secretive about that one particular aspect of his personality like heâll let people know that if they want a relationship heâs not the person to be approaching which tbqh is probably there to mask how deeply he actually would love to be in a fully monogamous and faithful relationship lol heâs a secret romantic just like... doesnât wanna get hurt. and he CLAIMS he doesnât believe in the family curse but thatâs kind of bullshit. he does. a potential simp pretending he does not have the capacity to simp
can be awful at taking advice. heâll listen to it and understand it but heâll disregard it anyway
very bad at being optimistic. he does feel a bit cursed, again, even if he claims he doesnât believe in said curse. the blackthorn bad luck always feels like its nipping at his heels.
he can be sooooo dramatic. heâs obnoxious <3
but heâs also like..... relatively independent? he doesnât like asking for help and he feels like leaning on people too heavily is a shortcoming on his part so he just. will not.
really good at group projects like for some reason he feels too guilty about not actually giving them his all and will actually put effort in whereas when it comes to his own individual projects heâll just say fuck it (unless heâs genuinely interested)
studying history w an economics minor because he figured he should go for something more or less related to capitalism to soften the blow of running to academia
a bit sensitive about the fact that heâs not actually related to his father by blood. it makes him think about all the conflicts heâd ever had with his father post finding out about his real parentage and like... when he thinks about all of that i think he realizes that his familyâs love may very well be entirely conditional and heâs afraid of that. which might be why it almost seems, smtms, like he is actively trying to push them away because he thinks if he leaves first its Fine :)
rlly likes creative ventures he just LOVES working w his hands its so soothing to him. will often be in the pottery studio after dark. he can play piano
wanted connections:
close friends (or as close as he can get) â he seems a little detached and there are def moments where he just vanishes without a trace for a week but they seem to be okay with this and he loves them for it. never feels suffocated by them at all. is occasionally afraid his luck will negatively impact them but so far, so good.
they hooked up a few times then he ghosted them and now its AWKWARD
enemies. please !!!! its unrealistic that he wld be able to exist without ppl hating him
and maybe enemies to friends / enemies to lovers tropes can happen like... i love that.
theyâve known each other for a long time and neither of them trust the other but they have spent many nights together and would probably call each other friends if asked.
theyâre similarly chaotic / detached / miserable and sometimes they lean heavily on each other because they donât really have anyone else who gets it.
they committed a crime together once
theyâre attracted to each other but he goes out of his way to avoid them bc heâs like . that seems like the WORST idea. it rlly seems like he actively hates them
classmates
and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)
someone he literally just argues with all the time. like thats the whole relationship
someone as obsessive as him who is willing to accompany him down history or science or whatever related rabbit holes and procrastinate with him. he wld die for them <3
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lots of ilya q&a below - part 1
tw ... mentions of noncon and murder.
[Â part 2Â ]Â

question:Â so Ilya wouldnât like a cop out of principle but what it,, Ilya had a darling but a (yandere?) cop investigating his case,, ALSO likes ilyas darling.. (obviously this would only be fun if the cop is rly competent and an actual threat)
answer: ilya believes that because heâs suffered, he should have a âfree passâ to inflict suffering onto others, so of course he isnât fond of having someone on his tail that constantly gets in the way of his fun. still, anything that staves off boredom is a plus in his book.
whether the cop is yandere or not, ilya isnât fond of sharing his darling with the likes of an officer. simply put, this rival poses a threat to taking darling away (basically being a cockblock). ilyaâd be sure to use the copâs feelings to mock him, such as mentioning how wonderful darling is in bed, what a wonderful shade their skin turns when he chokes them to near-death, or â worst of all â Â how popular darlingâs pictures / videos have become on the dark web.
in reality, ilya has the upper hand in this situation. heâs avoided the cops for so long, whatâs another one? then again, this devil-may-care mentality will surely be his downfall if the cop is competent enough to catch him.
question:Â Also sorry for spamming u Iâm just in a mood rn- If Ilya likes hurting adults but wants to protect kids, how does he feel abt teenagers? Cause i feel like if I was an adult Iâd see teenagers as kids so like are teenagers more like kids or more like adults to him? Also I thought it was rly funny that ppl seemed 2 prefer being ilyas partner in crime over being his darling but like if I had to interact w him Iâd want him to protect child me lol cause I just want someone to watch out 4 me,,
answer:Â considering the amount of distasteful and illegal things he comes across involving minors on the dark web, anyone under the age of consent (or that looks too much like a child) is a kid in his eyes. even if he met an adult that looked young enough to be underaged, heâd feel uncomfortable with assaulting / killing them even after learning their age.
and i agree! ilya wouldâve actually made a wonderful kindergarten or elementary teacher had his life played out differently. i was a bit shocked people preferred being his partner in crime, but it makes sense since theyâd be prolonging their lifespan should they have the misfortune of meeting this man.
question 1:Â Can I ask how Ilya would react to a darling who cant die? Or dies but comes back to life each time? Iâm torn between thinking heâd be frustrated because his ultimate show of love wonât stick or ecstatic that he has someone he can kill over and over again
question 2:Â I wonder how Ilya would react to a darling he COULDNT kill, maybe because they were immortal or simply always managed to stay just out of his reach. Perhaps they even returned a bit of his feelings but never as much as he wanted, never enough to die for it. - jinxdere
ilya would probably go through the stages of âgriefâ.
heâd be angry and distraught at first, adamant about maintaining his denial toward the situation. heâs never encountered a darling who couldnât die; the moment he slit their throat, he expected them to never come back, to never question his love in such a way as to live.Â
during the bargaining stage, heâd distance himself for a while, at least until he comes to terms with it and decide what to do.
during the depression stage. rather than be ecstatic that he can kill his darling over and over again, heâd feel an equal amount of anger as he does love. above all else, ilya wants to have fun, to cope with his problems by hurting as many people as possible. to him, killing others is his way of spreading his twisted version of love; he wants to kill as many people as he possibly can because he wants to love everyone. really though, this is an excuse to make as many people suffer as he possibly can. because he was wronged in his life, he wants to drag others down to his level. therefore, heâd rationalize his options and eventually decide to begrudgingly accept his darlingâs immortality.
during the acceptance stage, heâd be willfully ignorant. heâd abandon this darling, sending them far away and telling them to never seek him out again; and if they do (especially if they fell in love with him), he will make every death more painful than the last. he wants nothing to do with them simply because they represent something he canât overcome in life; ilya is fascinated by the marriage between death and love, and this particular darling is challenging his entire world view. heâd rather remain ignorant.
so basically, while he isnât fond of having more than one darling at a time, heâd shun this immortal darling and no longer think of them as his. this seems counterintuitive, but a big part of ilyaâs character is his hypocrisy and ignorance. they define who he is and act as a reminder of his past and innate psychopathic tendencies.
question:Â if u say Ilya has always had psychopathic tendencies, would he still be where he is rn if he had a good childhood? And I wonder like.. apathetic ppl/characters are often into morbid stuff and donât care about hurting others but when u strip that down isnât that just following your desires? Like are people like that obligated to be into violent stuff? Cause if Ilya just really liked collecting fish thereâd be no issue.. I kinda think itâs a way to lash out at the world without letting it get 2 u
answer:Â i hope i understood this question correctly.
i canât speak for actual psychopaths or serial killers obviously, but ilya is willfully ignorant and hypocritical. itâs his way of âlashing out without letting it get to himâ â his way of coping, basically. if he had a good childhood, itâs certainly possible he wouldnât have treaded this path. however, childhood is only one factor that can push psychopaths over the edge. people who are apathetic or into morbid stuff arenât obligated to be into violent things, especially as there can be some other mental issue at play; take narcissistic personality disorder for example. i personally know someone who likely has this disorder, but they are not into morbid / violent stuff even though they may lash out violently or disregard hurting others at times. i agree that your evaluation is probably correct in this situation too: lashing out is a way to cope.
now, if ilyaâs parents had been more attentive, they wouldâve noticed their sonâs unsettling tendencies. killing animals is a big indicator of something greater at play and iâm sure they wouldâve taken him for a psychological screening. iâm no doctor or psychiatrist (iâm not even in the medical field), but i imagine that with early detection and proper therapy, ilya mightâve been a normal person. would he still be into morbid things and have all the extreme kinks he currently does? yeah probably, but to a much lesser extent.
question: okay so u said Ilya knows heâs fucked up which is why he canât have a kid BC he wouldnât want them involved in that life so like.. if he knows heâs fucked up but still enjoys doing what he does, does he justify it to himself? Does he just not think about it? Like I often see evil characters be like âthe world hurt me so Iâm allowed to hurt othersâ - is it like that? Cause u said heâs a hypocrite and thatâs quite hypocritical imo (if u know how bad it can be why make others suffer too yk?)
answer:Â part of it is that ilya is naturally sadistic and psychopathic, he doesnât care if others suffer. even if he hadnât become a serial rapist and killer, he wouldâve had a clear disregard for others. he does justify himself and ignores his obvious hypocrisy. he realizes how much of a hypocrite he is, so itâs not that heâs an idiot or blind; itâs more of that he doesnât give a damn about how selfish or contradictory heâs being.
youâre right that he thinks that heâs allowed to hurt others because the world hurt him, but itâs a bit beyond that. so for your question âwhy hurt others if you know how bad it can beâ â he gets off on it. even if he wasnât the one committing crimes, heâd still get off on it. heâs similar to an incel that just stays in his room, complains about how the world is unfair, and watches porn all day, except more attractive, less whiny, actually gets sex bc heâs charming and doesnât show his misanthropic side, and is into way darker porn than most incels probably are.
question: How would Eu-jin handle Illya taking an interest in his darling? I feel like things would get ugly fast.
answer: luckily, ilya doesnât exist in the same universe as eu-jin or any of my other ocs! heâs human, so heâd get ripped to shreds pretty fast, especially by the overly-obsessive and protective supernatural (gumiho) eu-jin who hasnât seen his darling in literal millennia.Â
yuu wouldnât even bother cannibalizing ilya, as he usually does with his prey; heâd find the Ripper far too disgusting to put in his own body, but he would torture ilya as painfully and slowly as possible. ripping off his fingernails one by one, removing his tongue so he canât scream (much like the way ilya chokes his darlings), etc.
...so yeah, as soon as the hyper-aware eu-jin realizes that ilya is looking at the formerâs darling with interest, itâd get ugly real fast.
question: What if when Ilya tried to kill one of his darlings but they manage to fight back and escape? I just see that throwing him for a real curve ball so I was curious to how he'd react.
answer: heâd be furious at first. to him, running away is the ultimate act of denying his love -- but, heâs a man that appreciates some fun every now and then. while he isnât fond of darlings that fight back (especially when heâs about to kill them), having a darling who spices his life up every now and then is exhilarating. heâll decide to play along with this darlingâs little game of cat and mouse, and to be honest, he finds the increased risk of getting caught by authorities (should the darling get that far) fun. as iâve mentioned before, ilya knows how much of a hypocrite he is and has long come to terms with his inevitable karma and death, he just doesnât care enough to change his habits.
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was listening to a podcast about a body farm and they mentioned w/o really addressing it that all but one of the scientists and other workers there were women, which was initially rly suprising to me, but the more I thought about it the more it seems like A Thing to me? I havent looked at the actual percentages but I feel like an outsized amt of the morticians and palliative care experts and death/decay related scientists Iâve seen speak have been women, and of the artists & media creators I follow, the women tend to be way more likely to be interested in death, and way more likely to be interested in it as a process/ more into looking at the actual details of death, dying, sickness, murder, etc, rather than obsessed with it in a flatly phobic way. Also in terms of like entertainment stuff, true crime, the occult and horror seem to be really female dominated interests, and it shows up in weird little things, like I associate interest in necromancy/body horror/blood magic/etc in rpgs etc w women overall (also just gross/freaky stuff? like that stereotype abt how women always play tyranids in warhammer & zerg in starcraft?). obviously I have no idea if this is like an actual tendency or not but itâs something Iâve been noticing a bunch? is there something about our culture that makes women really morbid? or men repulsed by morbid stuff (or is it not accessible to men for some other reason? too threatening?)? whatâs like the vibe??
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Malec Week Day 2: Disney Tangled AU
Happy Malec Week! This will be my only contribution because Iâm really busy so I hope you like this! Didnât have time to finish the whole thing, but enjoy this snippet and let me know what you thought :)
Read below or tap this Ao3 link here:Â http://archiveofourown.org/works/10842636
The dimly lit tavern is barren and quiet in the early morning. Crowds of tables and chairs fill the small space with only a few souls in sight, none of them pure. The perfect location for what the three companions sitting at a table in the far corner are planning to discuss. If one of them were to stop talking of irrelevancies first.
âIt is said,â the Englishmanâs hushed voice fills the quiet room. It is laced with the wonder and excitement of a tale hardly spoken but widely known. âthat 20 years ago in this very kingdom, Queen Maryse Lightwood was pregnant with her first child.â
The two others sitting at the table look at each other with doubt, but allow him to continue, fearful for their lives if they were to interrupt.
âHer and King Robert were overjoyed with the news and hoped for a boy that could one day rule the kingdom. But the joy was short-lived, for the Queen grew very ill before the baby was born, and the doctors that saw her were certain neither she nor the baby would make it. It would take a miracle, they said.â He pauses, grinning at the look of intrigue on his companionâs faces. He allows the tavernâs silence to envelope them for a moment before continuing on.
âSo a miracle is what the entire kingdom of Idris prayed for to their sacred angels above, a blessing to save their dear Queen and the child. It is said that the angels heard the pleas and that a single one came down from the heavens above one fateful night, and visited the royal family. It fed the dying mother itâs holy blood, instantly curing her and saving the child. Everyone was soon to hear the news of the aiding angel, and most were overjoyed, but you must be careful when spreading this kind of information.â
Though it's probably no more than a story, there's a certain intensity surrounding the three at the table, pressing the need for an ending, happy or not, impossibly closer.
âIt's said the she-demon that took the boy had fangs. At least, that's how King Robert described her. He only caught a glimpse of her sucking the blood from his child before she stole away into the night with his heir and son, Alexander Lightwood. No one knows where she took him, but some say that the vampire uses his blessed blood to walk in the daylight, even today, twenty years later.â
As the eloquent Ragnor Fell finishes with his tale, the finality of his tone easing the tension, he raises his cup of ale to his two companions, seemingly pleased with his fine storytelling. Magnus, however, isn't amused. They're wasting time with morbid fairy tales when they should be planning. He raises an eyebrow at his friend. âI am not concerned with what happened to the boy, just how much the crown that's simply laying around the castle is worth.â
âYou don't really believe that Ragnor, do you?â Catarina, their other partner in crime and brains behind their operations, asks in amusement. âVampires and angels and all that?â
Ragnor shrugs. âI've both heard and seen crazier.â
Catarina and Magnus roll their eyes, used to their friendâs far-out ideas. They are in Idris for a job, however, and it would suit them all to focus, for the plan would be carried out tonight.
Magnus lets out a bored sigh. âAnyhow, it hardly matters twenty years later. What do they expect? For him to one day walk through the doors? I doubt he's still alive, if this woman is the monster you say she is. We may as well make use of his crown.â Ragnor shrugs in response, a small smile quirking at the edge of his lips.
âI suppose, itâs just quite the interesting story.â
âYes, well, you can obsess about its background after we manage to steal it.â
âYou mean if we manage to steal it,â Ragnor grunts. He enjoys being indulged with things he enjoys and Magnusâ flippant remarks always make him grumpy.
âYou dare doubt my plan?â Catarina questions with a raised brow.
âOf course not, I just think we have to go over it a few more times. There are still some gaps and what ifs.â
âI don't know,â Magnus grins. âI liked my idea.â
Cat crosses her arms, an unamused glare settled deeply on her face. âTo wing it?â
âI have no doubt you could sneak in and out, my friend, it would just be terribly inconvenient if you got caught and hanged while we sat pretty in this tavern,â Ragnor sighs.
Magnus leans back in his chair, bringing his cup of ale to his lips with a sly smirk. âCome on. Have a little faith.â
The ticking has become less of an issue for Alec.
Sure, sometimes, as he reads one of his few books for the fiftieth time over or has to focus on practising his indoor archery or does any other number of things in his tower, the incessant tick-tick-ticking makes his skin crawl. But only until he distracts himself with something else.
That's why, as he notices the ticking during his designated reading time, the distraction that comes is welcome. That distraction being his best friend (and basically sister) Camille. She is gone most days, leaving Alec alone in their safe forest tower to find food and other things for Alec to survive on, so he longs for days she arrives home. And he has something on his mind he has been thinking about for all of the days she has been gone and wishes to ask her, so a burst of excitement erupts in him when he hears her familiar voice.
âAlec! I'm home!â Her voice sounds from down below. Alec grins, running to the window with the long rope in hand. He ties it up to the pulley system, lowering it down to where Camille stands with the makeshift basket she has hidden down there.
As he pulls her up, he goes over what he wants to say in his head, excitement bubbling through him so much that he says a few of his lines out loud. Camille looks surprised to see his smiling face, a small frown on her lips when she steps through the window.
âHappy to see me?â she inquires.
âOf course!â He watches as she nods slowly, confused, and steps over to the small kitchen. She places her picnic basket on the counter and unpacks her many sealed drinking containers from the basket. She always brings them on her day trips and Alec has asked her about what is in them once before, but all he was graced with was a scornful look and a hissed ânone of you businessâ. He was having one of his lightheaded spells that day so he stopped.
When she finishes unpacking, she turns to him and extends her hands out, a book in each. Alec grins widely when he sees them.
Normally, he has to beg her to get him something like this. She mostly brings back healthy food or medicine she says he needs, so this is a pleasant surprise.
âThank you!â he says, reaching out to bring her into a hug. He feels one of her hands reach up behind him to gently stroke the side of his neck. He can't fight back an uneasy shiver, but tells himself he's being ridiculous. She's showing him friendly affection, and he should be thankful for a ray of light in a dark world.
âYou're welcome, darling. It is your birthday soon, after all.â She draws back and takes a seat on a nearby chair. Alec watches her closely and begins to fidget a little where he still stands, a small smile playing on his lips. She raises an eyebrow his way.
âWhat do you want now?â
Alec shuffles some more, always hesitant to ask for anything. But he really wants this, more than he's ever wanted anything. He takes a deep breath, and tells himself it's worth it.
âOkay, so, I was wondering if maybe I-uh could uhâŚâ he trails off. Her look of natural distaste and indifference isn't really helping, but he reminds himself this is important. âYou know how it's my birthday soon?â
She heaves a bored sigh, âYes, Alec.â
âWell, I know you've told me the outside world is a bad place and all, but-â
âWait,â Camille interrupts, immediately sitting up straight in her chair, a look of rage flashing in her eyes. âAre you suggesting you leave this tower? Leave me?â There's a hint of desperation there as well, blinding Alec to the rage and making him feel instantly terrible. He mistakes her fear with care for him and withdraws.
âW-what? No,â he stutters out. Because how could he want to leave? After all she has done for him to protect him? âI-uh, just wanted you to get me a new quiver. Maybe leather-skinned? My old one is a little worn out.â
She sighs, almost in relief, and sinks back into her chair but nods. âYes. Fine. Whatever. I'll leave tomorrow once I top up on someâŚâ she pauses. âsleep.â
He sees nothing in her little slip-up and so turns to go back to his room so he can, once again, satisfy himself with the thought of a beautiful outside world with beautiful ideas and beautiful people. Camilleâs voice stops him before he gets too far, though.
âAlec,â she calls out, causing him to turn. The moment he locks eyes with her, something about them draws him in, makes him desperate to hear whatever she has to say. âYou know why you can't go outside, right?â she continues.
Alec nods, but it feels involuntary. All he is aware of is her eyes as he feels himself speak. âPeople are naturally bad. They won't accept me for who I am and it's safer up here with you.â It's like he's listening to someone else repeat something they have been told to memorise. It's a little disorientating but he feels himself unwillingly believing the words, despite his best efforts to believe in more out there.
Camille nods, looking satisfied with herself. âYou're lucky I'm the one who found you abandoned out in the woods all those years ago, Alec, and not one of those many bad people.â
Alec nods again, and then Camille blinks and he feels like he has snapped out of something. She gestures away from herself with a hand. âYou can go now.â
So he does. He goes upstairs to his room and daydreams, as he looks out his window and into the dark night, stroking his pet cat Church, of all the ways the outside world could be beautiful.
He sits and thinks and, finally, comes to the conclusion that he just might be able to leave and come back all in the time it will take for Camille to get his present from the main city and travel back.
Because going outside once couldn't do him much harm.
Just this once.
âI told you there were too many holes in your bloody plan!â Ragnor shouts over to Magnus and Catarina as they run through the dark woods, a fleet of royal guards not too far behind.
âWhat plan?â Cat bellows out.
Magnus laughs crazily, gesturing wildly to his the bag he carries. âWe got the crown didn't we?â
âNot for long!â A voice from behind them shouts. Magnus quickly looks back to see a furious-looking blond guy - the standard Lightwood insignia on his uniform golden, signifying that he is probably the captain of this squadron - gaining on them.
He laughs again. âSorry, dears, but this crown is ours now!â He looks over at his companions quickly, catching the uneasiness of their expressions easily. âLets split up. They'll get confused in these dark woods. We meet back at the tavern, okay?â
Catarina breaths out a confirmation, ready to split on Magnusâ signal. Ragnor looks even more uneasy.
âWhy do we always listen to you?â
Magnus grins before hissing âNow!â
He turns right and branches off from the group, running like a mad man through branches and leaves and over tree roots that threaten to make his job a lot harder, especially in the darkness barely illuminated by the moon and stars above. He grins when he hears the frustrated yells of the castle guards far behind him, even allows himself to run a little slower.
It isn't long before he hears nothing to disturb the natural quiet peace of the surrounding woods but the crunching of his rapid footsteps. He pauses with a satisfied grin, finding a rock to sit on while he catches his breath.
He looks around in appreciation, silently thanking the woods for hiding him well, before he looks down to the satchel hanging around his side.
Full of pride, he takes his latest treasure out of the bag and stares down at it with excitement. This will do him, Ragnor, and Cat for years if they sold it to the right buyers. The thing looks expensive, an intricate pattern of golden flames and branches circling the white pearls and blue gems dotted around it. The thought of it's worth and what it means for the trio makes Magnusâ heart race and lips tug into a smile.
Until he hears steps quickly approaching.
He looks around desperately for somewhere to hide both him and the crown and spots a small cave off to the side of him, the entrance mostly covered by hanging vines. Perfect.
Once he gets inside, he sighs in relief and backs up against the cave wall, listening intently. He begins to hear faint voices.
âJace, we'll find them and the crown. We can't be too far behind,â a womanâs voice says reassuringly.
âIt's not like you to be optimistic, Lydia,â the man, Jace, says with a hint of annoyance. Magnus identifies him as the captain that told him he wouldn't get away and grins.
âI know it's your brothers crown," the woman, Lydia responds. "and I know you won't give up until you find it. Not so much optimism as fact-stating,â she sighs.
âYeah, well, I don't know what the use is. It's been twenty years. It's not like he's going to pop up one day, slip the crown on, and become my brother.â
Magnus remembers the story and a twinge of guilt pulls at his heart before he wills it away. There isn't room for guilt in his job description. Besides, he needs this.
âYeah, well, it's unlikely, but it's possible,â Lydia says. They're closer to Magnus now, just outside of the cave, and slowly passing. âAnd I know you believe it could happen just as much as your parents.â
Jace huffs, allowing a silence to fall before he clears his throat and Magnus hears the kick of a heel against a horse. âWe need to keep looking.â
Magnus hears the steps fade away and relaxes from his tense position against the cave wall. He starts sliding down, a sudden exhaustion overtaking him, but; just as he's about to sit down, he notices a set of footprints in the dirt trailing out from further inside the cave. They don't look too old and, what can Magnus say? He's a curious guy. He follows them.
It's a bit of a long walk through piercing darkness, but he continues with determination, never one to turn back in uncertain situations (which may or may not have put him in more than a few sticky situations in the past). Once his eyes finally pick up on that subtle change of pure darkness to the natural midnight of outside, he picks up the pace until he comes up to another layer of hanging vines lazily blocking the way.
As soon as he steps through, he instantly lets out a relieved sigh at the sight before him. A lone, large tower stands a bit away, no light coming from it, but thereâs barely a doubt in Magnusâ tired mind as he takes the steps closer to it. It looks a little creepy, so lifeless and still by itself, and there is an eerie quietness about it that sets it apart from the forest nearby, but Magnus continues forward.
He thanks his many various skills when he sees that the building has no ground-level front door, just a window, meters up. How curious, he thinks as he finds a handhold and drags himself up, climbing up and up until he reaches the top.
His usual gracefulness lacks by the time he gets there, and so he ends up throwing himself inside and knocking a few things over. He hopes no one is home and, when he stands, calls out just in case.
It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings, but once they do he finds himself raising an intrigued eyebrow. For all its intense appearance, the inside looks homey and lived in, shelves with books and knick-knacks lining almost every wall. Thereâs a small kitchen with a little table and two chairs, and an open living space taking up the rest of the room. What really catches Magnusâ attention, though, is how weirdly clean it is. Whoever lives here must have quite a bit of time on their hands.
He doesnât have much time to dwell on it, though, because the last thing he sees as he turns around is a scared, pale face and a fist swinging towards his face. Then darkness takes him.
Alec continues staring at the man sitting before him uneasily. The sun is rising and he still hasnât awoken, which Alec doesnât know whether to feel good about or not. Is it good that he knocked someone into unconsciousness? He canât deny he feels a little proud at proving he can handle himself.
He just doesnât know why he tied him up. He didnât know what to do with the lifeless form lying on the ground and the first thing he saw was the rope for letting Camille in through the window, so his mind went there. But if this man was as dangerous as every other person out there, like Camille has told him for years, then he had to be careful.
But Camille isnât here now. She left on her journey to get Alec his gift and wonât be back for days. Perhaps this story is Alecâs chance at convincing her of his abilities.
He looks at the man again. He doesnât look...bad. Alec actually finds a certain intrigue in studying the features of him, finds comfort in the way his face looks soft and kind when unconscious, his closed eyes sprinkled with dark makeup, like the stuff Camille wears. The morning light coming in through the window hits him and the small amount of glitter in the strangerâs styled hair catches both the sun and Alecâs attention. How could something bad look so...nice?
Suddenly, the man stirs and Alec snaps to attention, hands going straight to his bow and quiver, hands shaking a little. He watches as the man looks down at himself, dazed. âRope,â he groans. âKinky.â
Alec raises an eyebrow and steps forward into the light, arrow at the ready, catching the manâs attention instantly. He looks startled for a shred of a second, then his eyes turn calculating, looking Alec up and down lazily, almost like he isnât in a near-death situation, or has been too many times for this to be significant.
As those eyes scan him, Alec canât help but revel in the way they shimmer golden at him, as if they have the power to deem anything in this world worthy of attention. Again he feels like all that Camille has told him about the people outside is being challenged simply from the look of this man. He still feels wary, heart hammering in his chest, and his aim doesnât waiver, but there's always that shred of doubt.
âWho are you? And why did you come here?â he asks, voice low and steady.
The manâs eyes snap up to Alec and his lips quirk into a teasing smile, eyebrows raised almost innocently as he gazes straight into the archerâs eyes. âIf I had known a beautiful deity lived here I would have come sooner.â
The mischievous gleam in his eyes is distracting, but Alec frowns in response, stepping closer.
âMy name is Alec, and Iâm not sure if you noticed, but Iâm the one with the weapon here. Now, who are you?â
âAw, youâre no fun. When I awoke all tied up I was expecting a pleasant surprise. Emphasis on the pleasure.â The glittery manâs smirk grows when Alecâs cool composure cracks to show a hint of confusion. What kind of captive enjoys being tied up? The man shakes his head with a grin, and Alec worries he missed the punchline some sort of joke. The man then looks like he is about to raise his hands up in surrender before he realises heâs a little tied down at the moment and sighs. âTough crowd. But fine, if I tell you, will you untie me?â
Alec thinks for a moment then takes a step back, lowering his bow a little. âPerhaps.â
The man lets out a short laugh. A pleasant sound, Alec thinks, compared to Camilleâs usual taunting laughs. He raises a flirtatious eyebrow and smirks. Or, more accurately, smoulders.
âWell, perhaps youâve heard of me. Iâm Magnus Bane.â
The name rolls off his tongue like a purr, and he tilts his chin up with pride, like heâs the most desired man across the land. Alec almost lets himself scoff in amusement, but he also feels like that could be true. He wouldn't exactly know, and the man does look rather...no, Alec.
âI canât say I have,â he answers instead, in response getting a short huff of contempt from the other man. âIs...that your actual name? âMagnus Baneâ?â
âMagnus Baneâ looks up at him, a grin growing on his face as he tilts his head. âDonât you trust me?â
Alec rolls his eyes - the gesture far too casual and familiar for a guy he just met and tied up in his own home - and raises his bow and arrow again. âDoes it look like I trust you?â All he gets is a shrug and smirk from Magnus, so he continues. âNow, tell me what youâre doing here.â
âAh, yes, well, I was running from the castle guards because-â he pauses. Alec watches his eyes widen slowly before he looks around himself in a blind hurry, desperation evident with every short shift of his upper body. âMy satchel,â he finally murmurs out. âWhereâs my satchel?!â he says, this time louder.
Thereâs something new in his eyes now, something that wasnât there before. Alec notices it as the look Camille gets whenever he brings up the outside world or leaving the tower. Fear. Hers is just more well disguised than Magnusâ at the moment.
Alec starts a slow walk around his captive, eyes trained warily on him the whole time as he makes his way to the kitchen where he left the small bag. âWhy? What's in it?â
âSomething you don't need to concern yourself with, darling.â This time there's a hint of annoyance. âNow let me go and give it back.â
âYour persuasion skills work magic,â Alec deadpans from behind him. He reaches a hand inside the satchel and touches something metallic and pointed. When he draws his hand back out, he's holding a round, golden, bejewelled piece of what has to be some sort of jewellery. He stares at its ornate beauty in amazement.
Magnus grits his teeth in annoyance and speaks, snapping Alecâs attention back to him. âIt's called natural charm.â He probably looks as fed up as he sounds, like he just wants to get out of here along with whatever Alec is holding. But now Alec is curious.
He steps back around to where Magnus can see him, the object now in his hands. âWhat's so special about this? What is it?â
Magnus gives him a curious look, annoyance still evident. âIt's a crown. And it's special because it belonged to a prince.â
âSo it's not yours?â Alecâs fingers fiddle with the jewels and trace the intricate patterns. âI take what you do isn't very honest.â
âLet's just say I need it more than they do.â
Alec nods, looking down at the crown with a pause. Something about it seems...familiar, even though he doesn't really know what it is. Then, an idea pops into his head and he looks up at his hostage.
âI'm going to offer you a deal, âMagnus Baneâ,â he says. Magnus gives him a sceptical look, playful demeanour vanishing to reveal a desperate man.
âWhat?â
âI am going to hide this crown in this tower very well. I am going to put it somewhere you will never find it, or at least, not without my help. If you want it back, you have to take me outside to the nearest kingdom. Once you have safely brought me there and back, I will give it to you and you can do whatever you want with it.â
Magnus blinks, silently assessing his situation. Alec hopes against hope that he appeared more sure of himself than he feels. He waits until Magnus speaks, slowly. âThat's what you want? Can't you do that on your own? Why do you need me?â
Alec shifts his eyes away from him and frowns. âI've never been outside of this tower.â Magnus eyebrows hike up in surprise and Alec, feeling defensive, raises his bow.
âWill you take me?â he booms.
Magnus assesses him sceptically, eyes ending up focused on the weapon in his hands. âI don't think you know how to use that thing,â he says. Alec raises an eyebrow, and then his bow, and he draws an arrow. In one quick movement, he shoots it into a nearby wall with deadly precision, eyes on Magnus the whole time.
The man at first looks surprised, then like he's about to laugh in sheer frustration, his head tilted back, but an irritated groan comes out instead. A sound that makes Alec proud. He just broke a manâs resolve for the first time.
âFine.â
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stop calling other ppl disgusting or bad for being interested in true crime or reading abt it or having it as ur special interest... like i get that some ppl are obsessed w school shooters and glamorize them and that is gross (and a sign of other issues) but simply having an interest in a topic b/c of morbid curiosity =/= agreeing with murderers???
having morbid curiosity is a very human thing and theres nothing wrong with experiencing that or reading abt ANY topic at all. being curious and interested in all kinds of sides of humanity, whether its good or bad, is 100% ok, and honestly i think its good to learn abt everything and read information on things and being curious no matter what it is!!
#honestly tumblr spreads such a simplified version of the human mind#having an interest in reading abt a morally bad thing =/= agreeing with it#you can just want to know more stuff#its not that u wanna eat babies just bc u read abt baby eaters#its a thing called morbid curiosity and a lot of ppl have that#whether they want to admit it or not
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(1) First off, big thanks for updating. Writing a multi chap fic is tedious & challenging esp now when the show suddenly turned lazy & lackluster. Not inspiring. Plus, real life happens. So this update is timely & a delight. Ok, this chapter turned dark & I get it. Honestly, after chapt 2, I have come to terms w/ Barryâs violent personality & upbringing. I fully grasp the idea that this story is his, via his complicated life, tragic past & the struggles he goes through that moves the plot.
The confrontation w/his uncle has dropped bombshells of truths, notably the blood curdling revelations of what truly transpired that night his father got arrested, and his uncleâs awareness of Irisâs identity that may lead to a possible threat on her life. These knowledge weight heavily on his conscience that itâs eating him up from w/in, so much so Snart took note of his sudden change of priorities & called him out on it. Threatening to destroy their friendship & possibly Roryâs endâŚ.
My heart was beating fast when B&R scuffled in the kitchen. I thought B would end R right then & there. Then my heart dropped w/ dread due to the possibility of B backsliding into addiction again. But last minute when he blew the powder away, I breathe out a sigh of relief. My hope & trust for B came back, much more when he made a promise to do better & protect Iris from the impending danger. W/c is funny to me, this was supposedly his original goal when he volunteered to follow her. This made for good storytelling. You made it suspenseful, heartbreaking then heartwarming, roller coaster ride. Kudos!  Then thereâs Iris. I totally realize the gravity of their conflict & separation at that moment. Bâs high made him sloppy, overly optimistic & assessed the situation through rose-colored glasses. I agree w/ Iris. B must be accountable of all the crimes he participated in. I genuinely get Irisâs shock, anger, disgust & sense of betrayal towards B. Acceptable & valid. It was bound to happen anyways, since Iris is determined to find the truth, and the truth hurt.  Honesty, a gripping chapter. Full of painful admissions & reveals. The 1st 2 chapters relied heavily on flashbacks to shed light on the present. The back & forth technique is an ode to your exceptional ability to comprehend a situation, then making it alive through print. A testament to your adeptness, sensitivity & meticulousness as a storyteller. The previous chapters galvanized the current, with the foundation laid out w/out a hiccup. However, may I point out 2 snags: 1) Bâs public persona as an employee w/ Ramon Industries wasnât mentioned before, but only now. Was it intentional to tell it just now?, and 2) who is that doctor? Doc to Stein or Iris, IF sheâs undergoing counseling or therapy? Overall, these arenât deal breakers. Once again, you ignited my obsession with this story. My curiosity is being piqued, attention on high alert & consciously enthralled. Do not be persuaded to revamp or alter your pov just so to be safe, acceptable & tame. Be compelling, insightful and smart. Make the story believable, honest and unapologetic. Praying for control till your next update, lol. Thank you and have a nice day!!âď¸đ â¤ď¸       Â
As always, lovely to hear your thoughts!
Despite Barryâs shady lifestyle, at heart, heâs not evil or someone who sets out to harm. At the end of the day for him, this is a job and heâs concerned with getting from point A to B with as little damage as possible. He doesnât at all relish hurting people unlike Rory who just doesnât care at all, so yeah when Barry volunteered to follow Iris, he had genuine motivations and he truly wanted to keep her safe. In his eyes, sheâs an innocent person who he wishes he could have avoided altogether but knew inevitably it was the only way to get the job done. She was essential to them succeeding in their goal, therefore she needed to be involved. So now that he becomes aware that his comrades are wary of her and could potentially do her harm to cover their own asses, heâs absolutely going to step in and he does. However, he never intended to actually approach her, talk to her, and worst of all, fall in love with her.Â
I hope itâs evident that Barryâs love is genuine. Because it really is the truest and most genuine thing through the whole story. They may have come together under deceptive circumstances but their love was always real so without giving too much away, Iâm trashing the morbid endings and want to give them something better. Â Â
As far as Barryâs current job, itâs not important or relevant to the story. Itâs negligible to the point where if I hadnât mentioned it, it wouldnât be missed at all. If anything it just emphasizes the fact that once upon a time, Barry worked at the auto shop but no longer does. But still, itâs not the most important detail. Had I decided to fully flesh the story out beyond this initially intended one-shot, then I most likely would have delved into it. However, for the purpose of this abridged version of the story, itâs not really important so you didnât miss anything! Same with Dr. Finkle. Itâs just an allusion to something they have previously discussed âoff-screenâ and a little reference to the show. Also a negligible detail. I apologize if it caused confusion!Â
Thank you for your thoughtful response and Iâm hoping I can bang out the next installment soon :D xoxoÂ
(And oh yeah, inspiration can be a fickle thing :P but fingers crossed I can get through the rewrites soon. Hoping for some quality WA content in tomorrowâs episode to help things along)
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Favorite Podcasts 2016
I have a data entry job in a lab processing bodily fluids. I hate the monotonous job, but one perk of the job is I get to listen to podcasts 40 hours/week, Â time flies by, and I feel somewhat productive.
PERSONAL OPINIONS⌠-podcasts are best done between 2 people, preferably comedian friends. Sometimes, there can be too many cooks in the kitchen (Filmdrunk Frotcast, for instance, runs into this) -itâs usually best in person: you can sense that in some podcasts where they do it via Skype or on the phone -I avoid local sports talk radio like the plagueâso you donât get blowhards with hot takes/talking points where they have to have controversy to get ratings. Generally, everybody on podcasts gets along, itâs natural, funnier, and doesnât fill hours. -while I donât think some of these podcast comedians will ever become household names, they are doing some of the best work out there thatâs ever been done comedically. Itâs like Howard Stern and what Chris Rock said and Iâm going to fuck this up: he might be the funniest person of all time if you compile what he did into a single hour. I feel like you could do these with a LOT of people. But they never will. -you listen long enough, it should feel like a friendship you are a part of. You know the people, get the inside jokes, and enjoy the banter. -best episodes tend to run 60 minutes or lessâotherwise, it can get real bloated.
BEST EPISODES -End of World Election Night (Joe Rogan)âBill Burr steals the live show from Stanhope, Rogan, Kreischer, etcâtour de force that came out the night of the Election while shit was going down. Burr is going for pure humor and some guests come on who have an issue with how he views things in a blunt, fair way where everything gets shit on and everything sucks: but, at the end of the day, his life is not going to be ruined. What I like about Burr is this: he will say awful things that you donât agree with...but by the end you are on his side and laughing with him. -600 Dollar Podcast-âVoyeur MotelââHalpern reads out Gay Taleseâs story of a guy who ran a hotel and had a secret viewing station set up above every guestâs bed and he would watch people have sex. Itâs creepy, but here? Funny as hell. The âBack to the Futureâ joke Halpern quickly gives almost made me crash on the Mass. Pike -Dollop/My Favorite Murder crossover-âOtto in the Atticâ -Dollop does a murder w/ My Favorite Murder as guests. It is wild. -Dollop-âBundy 2: Oregon Takeoverâ âone of the first Dollops was about Cliven Bundy, the anti-government rancher. This time, his kids took over Oregonâand, most recently, they went unpunished despite a takeover with guns. Just unreal. -Pardon My Take-âCat Killer Michael Rappaportâ (first part interview goes for 15 minutes or so) -Justin Halpernâs Papa Roach story on FrotcastâI was in tears at work listening to this. It helps to have been of age when Papa Roach was a thing in the late 90â˛s/early 2000s (Filmdrunk Frotcast; 3:30 mark on the âBest of 2016â: 90 second story basically)
BILL BURRâs Monday Morning Podcast (funniest comic alive mostly does a 1-man rant by himself) 2 episodes a weekâ1 of which is half throwback episodes
I donât get how Burr does it: it should be impossible for Burr to carry a podcast each week by himself for an hour, but he does. He rambles for an hour, takes listener e-mail. He is THE only person I listen to advertisement readings for: he somehow makes that funny, shits on the ads who sometime remove them. But itâs like listening to a guy workshop some material and improve himself in small ways as a comic.
I will say this though: when somebody else enters the podcast, it becomes funnier. His wife, Nia. He can play ball with and you can sense him having an audience and naturally be funnier. 600 Dollar Podcast: a comedy podcast between 3 comedians/writers who talk about marriage & raising kidsâbut itâs totally not that at all and always goes AWOL 1 episode per weekâbut hasnât been one in months Horrible title for a showâstarted off as âWildânâOut Without Nick Cannonâ but they got a cease and desist from Cannonâs lawyer.
Justin Halpern (Shit My Dad Says), Tommy Jonaghan (breakout guy of the show and a stand-up) and Patrick Monaghan (another TV writer)
This podcast has come the closest since Walking the Room to genuinely making me laugh out loud each week. Consistently. Great and funny stories of failure. Fucked up in the best way and goes FAR down the rabbit hole of topics.
BEST EPISODESâŚ. #7-âVoyeur Motelâ (Halpernâs Back to the Future joke) #11-âItâs Called a Vaginaâ (when Halpern loses his shit at the 10:15 mark) Dollop (two comedians: American history read to a friend who has no idea what the topic is about. Point is, you realize America has NEVER been great and itâs supremely and endlessly fucked up) Walking the Room is my favorite podcast ever. Laugh-out loud funny friendship and THE best and funniest take on unending failure and, like Patton Oswalt said, being a shit-magnet for people/things. They do live reunion ones once a yearâand they generally suck and arenât the same but Iâll take what I can get. Anyways, that podcast is overâand the Dollop, a history, took over as Dave Anthonyâs main thing (Heâll do conversations with Wil Anderson on TOFOP/FOFOP that are fun and closest to Walking the Room, but itâs not the same: heâs much more relaxed/normal whereas Dave was putting on a face as someone who hated his goofy friend, Greg, part of the time and was angrier than he wasâand if you follow him on Twitter, he is comically angry and outspoken)
Sometimes, the Dollop can be hit-or-miss and I tune out a bit. Within first couple minutes, I can tell if itâs going to be amazing. Gareth can improv too much at timesâbut when itâs on, itâs on. Theyâre incredibly quick and it never tires how incredulous Gareth can get to the stories to Daveâs sarcastic, nonchalant storytelling while EVERYTHING that is happening is fucked up.
I think if they could make a lot of these Dollops into movies, they would be amazing. Some Mel Brooks-ian shit. I would rather see the Dollopâs version of Hugh Glass than Leonardo DiCaprioâs version in âthe Revenantâ. The show got a nod of the head in the âTickledâ documentary.
But my jaw drops at American history I didnât know aboutâor to its extentâand then laugh hard. Some of it is minimal characters/events that are just funnyâothers are wildly serious or show parallels to today.
BEST EPISODES⌠-âOtto in the Atticâ (crossover live w/ My Favorite Murder) -âBundy 2: Oregon Takeoverâ (anything involving Cliven Bundyâs family and their anti-government militia) -Black Panther Fred Hamptonâ (not a funny oneâbut a guy I never heard of who should have been up there with MLK/Malcolm X had he not been assassinated by the FBI/American government) -âGirl Watchersâ -âDominoâs Pizza Storyâ -âPhiladelphia Mayor Frank Rizzoâ (pre-Trump guy) -âBoston Busing â74 & â75 PT 1 & 2â
All-Time? âthe Rubeâ is the best in a runaway or me. âPurity Ringâ, Tickled, Hugh Glass, some of the earlier ones are great.
IF YOU LIKE THIS: historyâ; Drunk History comedyâŚMy Favorite Murder My Favorite Murder (true crimeâone comic and her affable friend read 1 true crime murder to each other) 1 episode per week; 90 minutes-ish
True crime is all the rageâso it makes sense as to why this podcast has become insanely popular. It might be easy to shit on, in a morbid way, to go over murders in a âfanâ way: but itâs the same way movies/TV shows/news each night centers around murders. The show might glorify peopleâbut thereâs a common bent/theme around certain killers and their upbringingsâor possible life-saving life mottos (âfuck politenessâ). I can see the show doing more positive things, giving $ to rape kits being tested (how the fuck was that NOT a thing?!?!)
I was aware of Karen Kilgarif because Dave Anthony dated her and she was a guest on Walking the Room. But itâs AMAZING when people you are vaguely aware of find their own avenue. And become stars in their own rightâand people you look forward to hearing each week.
Her friend, Georgina, is just as easily likable. DEFINITELY comes across like a gossiping girly-girl (I heard that criticism), but sheâs so damn cool, genuinely funny, and cute (even before I saw how pretty she wasâthereâs no way to describe it and you can sense it with how Karen adores/views her). It could be a really dour show OR droning in the wrong hands, but they make the topic rightfully serious but fun simultaneously in the best way. It is respectful to the victims.
But yeah, they read Wikipedia entries to each other and bring in a heavily-informed obsession to the podcast. But itâs the humor and chemistry that helps saves the show in tone. Itâs not as heavily-researched as the Dollop or formatted in a natural storytelling bent, but itâs successful.
KEY EPISODESâŚ. -Live from LA Podfest (crossover with Dave Anthony of the Dollop) -Chicago Podfest (changing point for the show: you realize that they are massive in this episode in ways they didnât expectâwith a rabid fanbase) IF YOU LIKE THIS: youâll like the Dollop
PARDON MY TAKE (sports podcasts) 3 episodes per week; 60 minutes each I want to slap myself in the face listening to thisâbecause these are the two best young, likable stars in comedy/sports. IT IS HARD TO DO SPORTS COMEDY DONE SUCCESSFULLY BECAUSE PEOPLE TAKE IT TO SERIOUSLY! Big Cat comes across like Jimmy Kimmel; PFTCommenter, however, steals the showâand heâs incomparable (maybe Stephen Colbert for being able to stay in character?): basically heâs born out of âhot-takeâ culture and mocking it. Thereâs a format to the show, some interviews, segments.
Yes, itâs part of the Barstool Sports empireârun by douchebags (a friend of mine is cousins with Portnoyâtried getting an autograph for her boyfriend who loved Barstool Sports, he refused), but forget that.
LAUGH OUT LOUD⌠-Stingray Steve calls the fall of the Berlin Wall (a southern college football fanâthey get him to announce each weekâs big plays; when they FINALLY get him to call a key moment in history, I lost my shit at work) -Jimbo of the Week (mailbag fails from readers) -Monday Mornings after NFL games where they mimic Chris Bermanâs recaps of the games
BEST EPISODE⌠-Catkiller Michael Rapaport (Rapaport is an actor/personality easy to shit onâbut he comes across great as a podcast guest on Bill Simmons, Bill Burr, Pardon My Take: heâs game)âSeptember 6th -Marlins Man/Foul Ball Fan (July 6th) -Martin Shkreli âwhen they shit on him; itâs interesting to hear them be affable/likable/funny with people they clearly hate. Marlins Man & this episode are pretty great interviews to hear how naturally funny they are, easy to get along with, even while still getting jokes in at people they hate. Itâs not easy.
TOFOP & FOFOP (Australian comedian and funny actor friend poke at mostly American pop culture) -Charlie Clausen is the co-host on TOFOP -FOFOP gets its name from the show âFringeâ: itâs âFaux-TOFOPâ, typically with American comedians. Dave Anthony is the best guest for FOFOP.
Wil Anderson is an Australian comicâheâs ridiculously affable, charming, and naturally funny. This is my closest substitute for Walking the Room, in a way, with its chemistry between two comics. It doesnât come close, but thatâs fine. I donât get all the Australian references (rugby, pop culture, politics), but I donât need to as an Americanâbecause America dominates just about every episode.
Clausen, on TOFOP, is damn likable. I canât say enough about how naturally great Anderson/Clausen are on podcasts. Itâs not just the accents that do it.
BEST EPISODES⌠-#263-âShould I Go Home?â : post-election w/ Dave Anthony I donât think thatâs right, but Iâve laughed out loud with pop culture breakdowns like Game of Thrones, Westworld, or shitting on Zach Snyder Batman/Superman movies in the funniest way Iâve heard (miles funnier than Filmdrunk-but no real format to the show) Inactives: NFL talk, fantasy footballâŚand some parenting
In a just world, Matt Ufford should be a mammoth sports media star alongside Katie Nolan. Heâs likable, outspoken, funnyâplus heâs a military veteran/Captain in the Iraq War (though he does not come across as that).
So yeah, an NFL podcast with Ufford (Seahawks fan) and Nick Stevens (Pats/Star Wars fan and stand-up comedian). Stevens should be easy to hate as a stereotype of a Boston sports fanâbut heâs naturally funny and likable, quick with jokes/takes on a spot.
The first episodes of 2015 are great for Mattâs all-time depressing Wal-Mart riff and Stevensâ reaction or Stevens bringing up the Butt Fumble that made me cry laughingâand Ufford lost his shit.
Also, Iâve NEVER done fantasy sports, but I still enjoy the showâmost NFL show (NFL Ringer; Simmons; Barnwell) arenât funny, have chemistry, and maybe too nerdyâthis is wildly funny, enjoyable.
YOUâLL LIKE THIS: football, comedy, Star Wars
Filmdrunk Frotcast: Pop Culture, Movies, Comedy As I said, sometimes this show can have too many cooks in the kitchen. There can be 4-6 people on the show sometimesâsome of whom arenât funny or interesting like Laremy, Lindy West. Matt Lieb grew on me heavily. I found him unfunny and someone who comes across as funnier than they think and the other people on the show let him do his thing, donât cut him off, laugh too hard, or know what to do. But heâs become a centerpiece of the show and now I donât mind it. I dig Brendan, Joe Sincilito, and some other dude thatâs been on more of late But Lieb does not really have an equal comedically to play with him, so he feels very much like an excited dog who just wants to play but could use another dog to play with. Horrible analogy, but feels right.
The showâand Uproxx, in generalâhits on topics I am VERY familiar with and want to hear discussed. I hardly tend to agree with Vince Manciniâs tastes and sometimes opinionsâheâs more of a critic than a comic. Lieb mostly looks for pure comedic bents and can derail the podcast, in a good way.
KEY GUESTS: Justin Halpern, PFTCommenter, Matt Ufford, Joe Sincilito SONG: Matt Liebâs âCorporate Birthdayâ
BEST EPISODE: âBest of 2016â (as an entry point, it does a good job capturing what the show doesâlove it or leave it. So lots of Lieb improv and made-up songs on the spot inbetween conversations)
REVISIONIST HISTORY: MALCOLM GLADWELL 10 episodes total (on hiatus)
Heavily organized and produced. I avoid boring This American Life podcasts like the plague, but Gladwell does that a bitâbut better here. Itâs interesting.
Best episodes: âSatire Paradoxâ; âLady Vanishesâ..the 3-part college episodes is an obsession and interesting political/social axe that Gladwell has to grind.
RECOMMENDED: if you like Malcolm Gladwellâs books even a littleâthis is otherworldly as an investigative podcast piece. It should NOT be this damn good. BILL SIMMONS (mostly sports) 2 episodes/week; 60-80 minutes each He gets shit on fairlyâand sometimes over-the-top unfairly. He has a tired schtick and thoughts, a HORRIBLE voice (the opening segments on his TV show were due to be a disaster), unfunny. I donât know how to say it: someone like Justin Halpern has a HORRIBLE voiceâbut he transcends that because heâs so goddamn funny. With that said, heâs talented, inspired/broke the door open for a lot of people, is a good podcast host, easy/affable enough to listen to, and has good taste. I donât think his friends are funny or worthwhile  (House; Cousin Sal) but I enjoy Jack-O. Mike Lombardi is painfully badâbut I have to sit through it as a die-hard Pats fan since he was in the Pats organization until just a couple months ago. But he gets damn good guests every now and then.
BEST GUESTS/EPISODES: Michael Rapaport, Gladwell, Wesley Morris, Al Michaels, Robert Smigel, Jay Glazer; Key & Peele, Chris Sacca, etc, etc COMMON SENSE w/ DAN CARLIN (a historian rants about politics in a focused way) Carlin is like Burrâhe does a podcast by himself for an hour and rambles a bit. Difference is, there is not a single funny bone to Carlinâs body. I agree with Filmdrunk: Carlin comes across like a Right Wing radio host in how he talksâbut heâs utterly brilliant. Heâs the best guy to break down history in todayâs terms. I subscribe more to his thinking as a leftist political-minded person.
I still need to check out âHardcore Historyâ: I hear thatâs the shit, but I donât have time for 12-16 hour anthology pieces. I started listening to âWrath of Khanâ and itâs insane, thorough, well-researched and great storytelling. Itâs daunting though.
RECOMMENDED: History/political buffsâwith leftist-minded thinking and rambling HOUND TALL: Educational live comedy show where an expert  talks about something and comics engage in it in a panel Basically, an expert comes in (a pimp; a woman who was in a harem; Science; Religion; etc) and a panel of comedians riff on that in a loose way. Moshe is brilliant as a host and he has good comedic guests (Pete Holmes; Joe DeRosa; John Mulaney; Natasha Legerro, etc)
SUGGEST IF YOU LIKE: education, in a weird way HANNIBAL BURRESS: HANDSOME RAMBLER Podcast is in early stages. Mainly itâs just Hannibal and his DJ chilling while Hannibal fucks around with autotune at times. Heâs been having more conversations with guests lately (Chance the Rapper, for one)
Episode 2âHannibalâs experience with Air BânâBâs JOE ROGAN 3 episodes per weekâ3-4 hours each The podcast simply goes on for FAR too long (3-4 hours) and the topics meander far down the rabbit hole. But, if youâre like me and have the time, you donât mind having to listen to a 3-4 hour conversation.
Rogan is a far-out dude, gets shit on for his opinions, lifestyle (Hunting & MMA most likely), and politically correct people (itâs overblown). But heâs an open and fair-minded dude, even if I donât agree with him.
Heâs kind of similar to Pete Holmes: long conversations, deep personâexcept Peteâs is maybe more focused with questions that come up in every podcast (itâs a funnier version of WTF with Marc Maron) and Holmes is just plain goofier and naturally funny. Rogan is mostly an intense dudeâwho has more life experience, hobbies, and skills.
BEST EPISODE: End of the World election night podcast Bill Burr steals the show from everybody, including Doug Stanhope. Itâs unreal.
OTHER GUESTS: Bill Burr, Dan Carlin, Hannibal Burress, Neal Brennan
Pete Holmes: You Made it Weird (funnier, goofier, deeper Marc Maron conversations) Burr is the funniest comic aliveâbut Pete is probably the most insanely likable; they both should be massive. Burr does the best panel work on a night show: heâs an angry, loveable, opinionated dude, pushes buttons in a playful way. Holmes is a DEEP-thinking guyâwho just is universally likable. Even his face, itâs goofy and instantly funny.
BEST GUESTS⌠Moshe Kasher (recent); Garry Shandling (month before he died)
SUGGEST IF YOU LIKE THIS: WTF w/ Marc Maronâif Maron was funny/looser/goofier in his interviews
WTF W/ Marc Maron Hardly interviews comics anymore since heâs nearly interviewed them all. I donât bother to check out as much. He hasnât had as much good interviews this year. Iâve seen him live, I think, 6 times (and 2 podcast tapings that were in Boston: first one was the best by far)
But reason why his podcast is great is that Marc isnât a whole person, heâs finding himselfâand you can sense heâs trying to make himself better and find himself with the people heâs interviewing. Heâs looking for grace, understanding, and just being a better person.
Also, everybody skips the openings to all his podcastsâand just cut to the interview.
BEST INTERVIEWS⌠Robert Kelly (underrated: might be one of the funniest people Iâve seen liveâhis own podcast has great moments: him w/ Burr, DeRosa, Kreischer on Bertcast was amazing) Louis CK; Jeff Goldblum
CHAPO TRAP HOUSE Caught this only in the last week.
The Ben Shapiro takedown in the last episode of the year was great (they read passages from his awful book of the extreme conservative writer. Helps to know who he is in a way)
SUGGESTED EPISODE⌠-Post-Election breakdown âWe Live in the Zone Nowâ: My thoughts exactly as a lefty on the election & state of politics
OPIE RADIO Anytime they release a Patrice OâNeal, Bill Burr, Louis CK, or Robert Kelly oldies, itâs special. Some of the most brutal and funny comedy ever was done on Opie & Anthony. A show as PACKED with people as, say, Filmdrunk Frotcast could use is actual comedians who are mostly all on the same level âfunnyâ as each other. Except the main thing with this show is that they bust balls in the cruelest way. Endlessly. With that said, you can easily hate the fans of the show and hate Anthony Cumiaâs politics and how far-right/distant he has become (got fired from the show)âand still recognize how brilliant he was as a host. Thereâs a treasure trove of amazing material on Opie that you can put up with the best comedy ever. Itâs the original podcast and when they re-release old shit, itâs a goldmine.
-Weâll See You in Hell w/ Joe Derosa (2 friends talk movies and shit on each other for liking or not liking certain movies: itâs Roger & Ebert basically) Derosa has a mostly HORRIBLE taste in movies.
I donât think I could recommend this podcast to anybody unless youâve heard him on a podcast with Pete Holmes, Bill Burr, Hound Tall, or Opie. Pete Holmes would 100% be the best (Peteâs podcast to hear Peteâs impression of Joe, Hound Tall) and Burr would be great to see how easily Burr shits on him. Otherwise, youâd just view him as an unlikable asshole.
Derosa has a couple albums out and theyâre worthwhile. But there is one that he recorded that went AWOL and the crowd absolutely was drunk and derailed his special, so Joe went with, trashed his special, and just went off on the audience trashing them. Itâs amazing. Itâs âYou Will Dieâ and itâs the second part of the special that was recorded and meant to be the special.
COULD GIVE UP ON AND BE COOL -Bill Barnwell (NFL podcast) -NFL Ringer -the Watch (TV/movies)
Only because Iâm a big football/TV/movie fanâthe hosts arenât very good, funny, interesting or standout. I think they are good, straight-forward writers though (all formerly of Grantland). I listen to these episodes at 2x speed to make them go by faster. OVERRATED PODCASTS -Keeping It 1600 Politics podcasts from people who worked for Obama as policy advisor & speechwriter. They get insider guests/journalists. Sure, itâs mildly interesting to hear them go over current eventsâbut itâs ultimately forgettable. Kind of smug. Jokes arenât funny. They are inoffensive dudes and centrists. Itâs a podcast for water-carrying establishment Democrats generally and I think they are blind to see at how limp and ineffectual their party is and why that is so. I guess the podcast that came after the election is interesting to listen toâand how shocked they were. They never thought it would happenâand they never thought Hillary was a horrible candidate.
Iâd say the Ringer podcasts (the Watch; Simmons) the people who host the podcasts are NOT funny people at all. Thereâs laughter going on, but itâs never made by funny people. I like Simmons, but I canât defend him being naturally funny the way he would like to be.
SUGGESTION: listen to Wil Anderson, an Australian comic, alongside Dave Anthony cover politics on FOFOP. I started listening to Chapo Trap House-thatâs better than Keeping it 1600 and what I wanted in a politics podcast MOST DISAPPOINTING PODCASTS -Serial season 2âchecked out after a couple episodes. It tried something new and failed miserably. -Deadcast âDrew Magary is the funniest online writer for a decade now, but he comes across as obnoxious and loud on podcasts. Tim Marchman? A boring contrarian killjoy. They go over topics I enjoy hearing about though, but I gave up. Also, they do it via Skype, so it misses some chemistry of podcasts that do it in person.
DONâT LISTEN TO ENOUGH BUT THINK ARE GOOD -Chelsea Peretti (Bill Burr episode is greatâbut that podcast has like 3 episodes a year) -Guys We Fucked -My Brother My Brother & Me (3 brothers, comedyâand I heard their Dungeons & Dragons podcast Adventure Zone is greatâbut Iâm not into that game) -Sklarbro Country (Sports + comedy) -Todd Glass (Patton Oswalt as a guest was amazing a year or so ago)
PODCASTS I PLAN ON CHECKING OUT MORE IN 2017 -Chapoâs Trap House -Dan Carlinâs Hardcore History
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