#w/ a morbid obsession w/ crime

[yandere-yearnings]

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 did😭 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🤡 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 anything🤧💔

[aixeko]

──────<3 MINDFUCK ༺♱༻

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. 

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ]

⚝ TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES, OH, BLESS ME, FATHER.  ⚝ Ended on a cliff hanger lmfao, I will probably expand on it since this is only ⅓ of the ideas I have for Slasher Arle. ⚝ Anyway, thank you so much to Ray for letting me participate in this event <3 Even though it’s quite late but nonetheless thank you for accepting my work as a part of your event…! ⚝ 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. 

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 case—"

"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 out—a 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?” You question Navia, arms crossed in a vice-like grip, as you analyse the hair under the microscope. “Is it fake hair or from a doll?”

"Haha, it's simple, Dr. Snezhevna, because she herself stated in this letter that the hair strand belongs to her,” 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.

“This woman genuinely pisses me off... Does she think I’m 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?”

Navia lets out a light chuckle, leaning back in her chair and looking drastically more relaxed than you do.

“I’ve 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.”

“Seriously?! God forbid this damn criminal gives me a break!” you exclaim, frustration bubbling over. “The day I finally catch her, I’m going to give her a piece of my damn mind, alright.”

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."

"But—" 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." 

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! PERUERE—"

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."

[maviezz]

Mr. GhostFace

Pairing: Stu Macher × Fem! Reader

Summary: You where on a phone call with your friend laying on your bed, when suddenly you hear something stumbling behind you…

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 there’s a spelling mistake or anything, I’ll 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 show” 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 dawns—window 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 –The 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 tits” he remarked, his thumb tracing slow circles on one of my sensitive peaks, the air hung heavy with tension.

“m-mhm- fuck!” A gentle, almost imperceptible sound escaped my lips—a soft mewl—when 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, “You'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...

“p-please don’t do this” 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 “I 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 “You'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. “Good 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 “You'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 lightning— 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. “s-stop!” 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. “I'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 now”. 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.

“m’gonna cum~”i 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 cliché scenario from a porn movie, akin to something you might find on a Blockbuster rental shelf—undeniably 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 “That'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 “f-fuck…” 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 “You'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 couldn’t 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.

[bidmybloodtorun]

Curious to know if any other pix like this on goreblr? Crime scene shit like this pic are wild & I'm fvcked up like the rest of ya w/ my slight obsession for true crime. So uh yeah.. lmk cause ya girl got a serious case of morbid curiosity🚬😮‍💨🔪📸👀🤷🏻‍♀️

[thesapphicdiaries]

an unhealthy obsession ;; ellie w. x abby a. x reader ;; pt. 1

and i'll get done for somethin' stupid like disturbance of the peace. | (ghostface au)

NOTES: this is entirely self indulgent tbh ,,, but fuck it !! we ball. future chapters will b linked here <3 reblg if u want to be tagged idk that's it. modern au btw. ellie might be a little ooc? for the sake of the au

TRIGGERS: murder but it happens offscreen + blackmail under the threat of violence n manipulation. there's also smoking wed

You'd be the first to admit your interests tended to ebb on morbid.

Maybe, you muse, it had to do with the source of your upbringing: Jackson. It was a stereotypical small town, where, cliché as it was, everybody knew everybody. The town's history was clean as a goddamn whistle. While places like Seattle— Abby's hometown— were a hotspot for crime due to the sheer amount of people making it slightly harder to get caught unless you were a goddamn idiot, with the close proximity of everyone within Jackson from Dina to Tommy Miller, any crime you could commit would be shut down by the local police force in a month at most.

At least— that was what you thought.

So, you indulged your macabre curiosity elsewhere: you binge watched slashers despite your parents' vehement protests and you researched the violent happenings that often took place outside your sheltered hometown. Hell, you'd even indulged in one of those stupid fucking murder mystery games with some of the allowance you'd managed to spare that wasn't spent on various branded paraphernalia... and the other kind, but nobody needed to know that.

You weren't exactly surprised at how others seemed to be creeped out by you: Friday the 13th wasn't exactly a commonplace interest. Even so, you'd managed to make a few close friends whom you considered enough to get you by.

You jolt as your locker slams shut beside your head, and Abby's cackling is all too familiar.

"Fuckin' dick," you groan, feigning your exasperation— you'd finished putting your stuff away, anyway. "What happened to 'hello'? 'How was your day, Y/N?'"

"Your day's always the same," Abby provides helpfully, and you roll your eyes. "You wake up, come to school, indulge the same 3 people—" Her, Ellie, and Dina— "in the same rotation of conversations until they leave, go home, get violently high, watch whatever weird slasher your fancying that night, and then go to bed."

You blink owlishly. "Got my schedule memorized down pat there, Abs. You been stalking me?" You smirk, playfully, but your brow arches when she falls suspiciously silent. "Uh... alright."

"Anyway, you're having a change of plans," Abby finally says, and your eyes widen as you pipe up to speak. "You'll still get violently high and watch a slasher, don't worry. You'll just be gracing me and Ellie with your company while you do." She finishes, and you fall silent.

'Alright," you mutter. "Do I get to pick the slasher, or are you gonna pick some cornball shit like Chopping Mall?" You huff. Abby begins to answer, but your phone suddenly chimes with a notification from your news app.

Local man found dead from apparent stabbing.

Your mouth falls open slightly as Abby reads the headline over your shoulder. You fail to notice her nervous expression.

"Huh," you mutter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. "Something interesting finally happened in this town. Neat."

-

The choice in film, much to your chagrin, was Chopping Mall. Fortunately, you were too far gone to care.

Your head lolled of the side of the bed, your back strewn across Ellie's legs as you barely manage to register the words spewing from her mouth as you take another hit from the blunt she'd rolled.

"I just don't get how you like these," she complains. "I mean, it's the same damn formula every time. Does it not get boring?"

"That's the pointtttt," you groan. "The more formulaic they are, the better. Sure, some newer takes can be good: but sticking to the classics is a good play. Better safe than sorry." You wave off her concerns.

"Well, look at this little flim critic," Ellie teases as she stares at Abby, who's staring blankly at the ceiling. You'd never fail to find her lower tolerance hilarious.

"I mean," you and Ellie wait patiently through Abby's long pause. "They're right. Formulaic can be good. Patterns are more predictable— easier to keep up." She says, and you notice her and Ellie share a look.

"But they can also suck," she hisses. "Because if you're predictable, it makes it easier to connect. Like, in these movies how they're always killing off dumb, blonde bimbos— you can tell they're all copying eachother." She complains. You squint at the both of them, but don't comment on the subject.

"There's no right answer," you shrug. "I just find the middle ground. Sure, it's predictable, and boring. But it's also the safe call to make. People criticize these movies, but they make fuckin' millions. The original ones get better reviews, but they end up falling flat in the box office."

You don't realize Ellie and Abby's argument isn't referring to movies in the slightest.

"You sound way too fuckin' smart for the both of us," Ellie says, and you snort.

"It's because I am," your eyes flash toward Ellie's clock. "Shit. I gotta go. Parents will kill me if I'm not home soon." You shoot upward, trying to adjust to your surroundings. You cannot come home looking high out of your fucking mind. "See you guys later."

You watch as the two of them give you a halfhearted wave, and once you shut the bedroom door, you chalk up the strange shuffling to... something you don't want to know, honestly.

You don't realize it's much worse than you thought.

-

You surmise the punishment for being late is slightly lesser than the punishment for coming home inebriated, so you take the risk to sober up in a nearby alley between a convenience store and a small restaurant.

The alley is lit up by string lights and decorated with a few benches— perfectly habitable, and it's not what scares you— what does set you on edge is the unchecked darkness of the forest beyond the alley.

You elect to ignore the unease in your stomach, instead taking a hearty swig of the water you'd bought from the convenience store before coming outside. The tension in your shoulders almost releases, then—

You hear a scream.

A bloodcurdling scream.

Every nerve in your body tells you to run the opposite direction of the plea for help, every goddamn slasher you've watched over the years telling you playing the hero always gets you killed, but it's not heroics that lead you toward the source of the noise.

It's that same morbid curiosity that gets you watching slashers in the first place.

The noises grow louder as you draw nearer, and your eyes widen as you stifle a gasp when you see the bloodied body of Nora lying at the feet of two masked killers. You sigh in relief when you realize the treeline obscures you from view, but the noise comes out far too loud.

It hits you just how fucked you are.

You've made a few essential mistakes in the laws of survival so far, but you're not stupid enough not to run: you make a mad dash, but in a sick (and ironic) twist of fate, you trip over your abandoned water bottle and wince as the solid trunk of a tree collides against with your head with a loud thunk.

Through the blurry haze that is your vision, you see the two killers standing right in front of you. You prepare for the worst, when—

"Y/N?"

Oh, shit.

"El?" You hear the panicked rambling of another woman. "Abs? What the FUCK!?"

You almost kick out when Abby covers your mouth with a gloved hand, but know better than to get violent with the woman twice your size with a fucking hunting knife to boot.

"Ellie, El, this is bad." Abby's voice is shaking. "What the Hell do we do, man?"

The forest falls painfully silent.

"Well," Ellie finally begins. "The best course of action? Kill the witness." You whimper, and mentally hit yourself for showing any vulnerability. "But," she continues. "On the other hand, I kind of like this one."

You will Abby to take her hand off your mouth with a pleading look.

"So," you hiss. "What's your plan, here? I don't have all night. Either get this over with and slit my throat or hurry the fuck up."

Ellie grins. "I've always liked that you were a little feisty, Y/N."

"I said," you grit your teeth. "Hurry up."

"Here's the deal, darling," Ellie tilts your chin up with the hilt of the knife. You look away. "You help us out. And we don't kill you." She wrenches your head forward, just enough to look her in the eyes. "You say no, or you rat us out," she mutters, lowly. "And we slit your throat. Deal?"

It hits you there's not a lot of options on the table. You glance over at Abby, clearly the more emotionally charged of the two, and wonder if you can bargain with her. But, you decide, she's probably just as crazy as Ellie or too scared to say no if her going along with this in the first place was any indication.

And, a darker part of you whispers, you wonder how it must feel, if they're willing to do such heinous things.

Finally, you assent with a shaky nod.

"Alright," you wrench your gaze away again.

"I'll help you."

WC: 1.5K

[fraznik]

Okay I’ve had this account for a lil bit now and I wanted to just kinda introduce myself now that I have some mutual followers just in case anyone ever wanted to know general stuff about me!

I’m getting kinda old so I’m just gonna put it in bullet format, lol

Name: Fraznik, Kaleigh

Age: 24

Pronouns: she/her

- married to a man 😔 but, previously only into women and still a strong ally, this is a safe space for LGBT+ friends 🩵

- digital, multimedia, and plush artist(the plush are still bad but I am working on improving my skills!) I also do tattoos but only on myself 😂

- storage facility manager(unfortunately I am forced to be a slave to the capitalist hell of the US to pay bills but I hope n pray that eventually I’ll be able to just be a regular starving artist)

- Jesus freak but in the way that we’re supposed to be, I just do my best to show love and kindness to others. THIS IS A RELIGIOUS SAFE SPACE. It’s one thing to discuss differing beliefs and to respectfully disagree, but I will NOT try to make converts of anyone or be hateful towards others for their beliefs and I will absolutely NOT tolerate people doing so on my posts, regardless of the religion. Period. 🩵

- diagnosed autistic at 19 and working on figuring out whether I also have ADHD, or if I just have something else going on in my noggin(after being misdiagnosed with bipolar ii so like who rlly knows). Also have been dealing w/ chronic fibromyalgia for several years, oftentimes debilitating. This is a safe space for neurodivergent friends as well as friends with other disabilities- ableism in any form will not be tolerated on my posts. UPDATE AS OF 11/13: I was diagnosed with Trigeminal Neuralgia on Nov 10, so a new thing :’))

- biggest dreams: #1, to have a little plot of land and have a homestead where I can grow food and maybe have some livestock and just try to be as self-sustaining as possible! #2, to be able to make a living from sharing my art, plush, and maybe one day(if I’m brave enough LOL) tattoos!

- LOOOOVE The Chosen from Angel Studios. So so so good even if you’re not religious or a Christian. It’s cinematically beautiful and the music score is PHENOMENAL. 🤩

- clown lover

- still obsessed with MCR in 2023

- fave movie of all time is Scream (1996), I can, do, and WILL talk about how it changed the horror genre AT LENGTH if anyone ever asks and YES it’s a hyperfixation and YES I’ve been obsessed since I was way too young.

- loves true crime podcasts (Morbid and Rotten Mango especially)

- always listening to the Midnight Sun audiobook and not even embarrassed about it. Only “Chapter 10: Theory” can put me to sleep at night 😔

Also last but absolutely not least, because it’s current events and I want my stance known, I am PRO PALESTINE. I just try to educate myself & do my own research, and share resources and good information where I can.

That’s basically it I hope u all have a lovely day 🩵

[spanishinfluenza]

💖💜💚CONGRATULATIONS ON ANOTHER HUNDRED fans, YOU ABSOLUTE BEAUTYYY 💖💚💙

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 livin’ his best life 😎)

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

[erinxneil]

3. Please hold my hand.

I didn’t forget about prompt #2! I just had an idea for #3 and I’m 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!

“So, 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.” Hotch spoke.

“Well, then I guess we can rule out sexual sadist. There’s no sexual component to the crimes, and the kill is quick.” I replied, examining the photos on the board in front of us.

“Yes, but also the autopsy report from the past three victims shows that they were missing for eight hours before they were killed, so we don’t know what he’s doing to them during that time.” Spencer rebuked my claim. Of course, the genius has something to say.

“While 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 didn’t touch them.”

Spencer chuckled. “Yes, Y/N, but I think we can both agree you don’t need to physically touch someone in order to torture them.” I nodded. That’s very true.

Morgan coughed. “Well, now that we’ve discussed the possibility that our suspect is a sexual sadist and have been unable to agree on a concise point..” He trailed off. “What’s next? Why does he target females in their forties?”

Emily glanced up. “He 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.”

Hotch intervened. “We can discuss this more on the jet. Grab your go-bags, wheels up in 30. We’ve been asked to come to California, where these crimes are occurring.” He left the room without another word.

“Well, this should be an interesting case.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

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.

“Good work, team. Try to get some rest in before we land.” Hotch stood and moved to the front of the jet, where he probably wouldn’t 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.

“Having trouble, Y/L/N?” I sheepishly glanced up at the voice, coming from none other than Spencer Reid.

I sighed. “I can’t get comfortable. I’m exhausted and got no sleep last night, yet I can’t seem to fall asleep.” Spencer offered me a small smile and patted on his shoulder, nodding down at it.

I blinked. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a both-” “I really don’t mind, Y/N.” I smiled in thanks and rested my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Reid.” I murmured, already sleepy. He was so warm.. and smelled like strong cologne.

I fell asleep quicker than I’d like to admit.

-*-*-*-*-*-

“This is gold.”

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.

“What’s going on? Did we land?” 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. 

“Morning sleepyhead, sleep well?” Morgan teased.

“Actually, I did. Did we land?” 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 Reid’s chest for being so comfortable! I usually sleep with a body-sized pillow, and in my sleep, I must have mistaken Spencer for it.

“Yes, lovebirds, we landed.” Emily laughed at us, walking off the jet, JJ following shortly behind.

Reid shot me a look of confusion. “Lovebirds?” He looked to the side, trying to recall his memory, before his eyebrows likely shot up in realization. “Right, uh, well... I’m just going to go meet the others.”

Spencer walked away, scratching behind his neck in embarrassment. Morgan sent me an amused look. “Got anything you wanna admit, Y/N?” 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, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t adorable. But this was Spencer and I. That would never happen.

I rolled my eyes. “So childish. There’s nothing going on between us.” 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. “Alright, is everyone all set? No more groping before we leave?” 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.

“Not cool, Hotch..” 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. “Alright. 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.” 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.

“Hey, about earlier, I’m sorry. I guess I get kinda handsy when I sleep.” I chuckled. Spencer grinned. “It’s fine, Y/N, in case you hadn’t noticed, you weren’t exactly alone.” We laughed and nodded. There were no hard feelings, and we both were content. It was time to focus entirely on the case.

“Hey, I found something!”

Reid and I quickly moved into the room. Emily was on the floor, below the victim’s desk.

“...Um, Em? What are you doing?” 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. “Your worm is your only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to feed us, and we fat ourselves for maggots.“ “This is from Hamlet.” Emily and I gazed at Reid expectantly. “This quote is known to reference the morbid obsession with death that Hamlet holds. These quotes weren’t chosen randomly. I’d assume that not only has our unsub read Hamlet several times, he’s also analyzed every line in order to fully comprehend what each segment means. He’s 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.”

“That explains the single slice to kill them.” Emily comments. I nodded. “True. The unsub seems to have some sort of obsession with control, as if he prides himself in it.”

We moved on to the next quote, that read, “You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.” Emily and I looked over at Spencer. He paused for a moment before nodding. “When Breath Becomes Air. Dr. Paul Kalanithi wrote this. It’s the autobiography of a neurosurgeon.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “He reads books related to medicine, as well? He must be very dedicated to his job.” Spencer skimmed through the rest of the quotes. “Or self-taught...” He trailed off. “The 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.”

We all looked at each other.

“The only other quote that doesn’t belong to some sort of book about medicine is the quote “It was extraordinary, now, how clear her mind became all of a sudden.” Lamb to the Slaughter. “All of these quotes are somehow related to him and to murder. He wanted us to find these.”  Spencer announced.

Emily sighed. “Isn’t this a bit too much effort for a serial killer focused on revenge?” “Not if he was psychotic already. Perhaps that’s 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.”

I paused, looking at Emily’s phone when something caught my eye. They both glanced at me. “Y/N?”

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.

“There’s more victims than we are aware of.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

After informing Hotch what information we gathered from the victims bedroom, he called JJ, expecting that they wouldn’t 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 weren’t as clean. There were mistakes, such as jagged marks, or the slice wasn’t 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.

“He was practicing...” Reid realized. “Y/N was right. There’s more victims than we initially realized.”

Hotch dialed Garcia.

 “Your brilliant and beautiful is speaking, how may I be of assistance?” “Garcia, 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.”

“Your wish is my command, my gorgeous friend.” The sound of typing ensued. “Alright, 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.” Hotch spoke, “Alright, now can you narrow that list down to brunette females between the ages of 35 and 45, above the height of 5′6″.” “13 results.” The team shared a look and nodded. 

“That sounds about right, as we can’t assume that all of his attacks went reported. Before he became serial, he probably began covering his tracks.”

I thought for a moment. “If our unsub is attacking victims that resemble his mother, wouldn’t it be likely if his mother was one of his victims?”

Reid glanced at me and nodded in agreement. “It’s 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 aren’t killing who they actually wanted to kill. Our killer probably killed a few victims before killing his mother herself. After killing so many people, he’d gotten a taste for it and became unable to stop.”

Hotch spoke again to Garcia. “Garcia, can you look for how many of those victims have children in their 20s or 30s?” “Of course I can... There are 4.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

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 couldn’t 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 Rossi’s 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. “Uh!- Y/N! You’re awake!” 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.

“Spencer? What are you doing here?” He looked down at the ground. “I uh.. I couldn’t sleep.” I tilted my head to the side in confusion and he continued. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come over, it’s just that I know you’re always up late and you have trouble sleeping yourself sometimes and I-” I cut him off. “Spencer, did you want to come in?” He smiled softly and walked in as I stepped aside.

“Thanks. Sorry again.” “There’s no need to apologize, Spencer. Are you okay?” He grinned tightly. “Of course. I’m just exhausted, yet can’t sleep and I didn’t really want to be alone. I can just crash on the couch.” 

I scoffed. “Spencer, don’t be ridiculous. You can take the bed.” He shook his head. “No, Y/N, it’s yours, I can’t ask you to sleep on the couch in your own room.” I thought for a moment. “Would you be okay if we slept in the bed together? Obviously nothing would happen, but we both can’t sleep and I think we’ve realized that we sleep better near eachother.” 

Spencer’s cheeks tinged at the mention of this morning. “Y-Yeah, that’s okay with me.” I smiled and sat beside him in the bed.

He looked over at me, tilting his head in surprise. “Y/N, do you sleep with your makeup on?”

I laughed softly. “What are you talking about, Reid?” He ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to proceed. A smile spread across my face as I realized what he was implying. “Spencer, I’m not wearing makeup.”

Reid’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh!- Uh, sorry then. I just... thought you were.” I grinned before sliding down, staring at the ceiling above us.

“Spencer, how long have you had night terrors?”

He froze for a moment, before shifting uncomfortably. “What happened to not profiling our coworkers?” I turned to face him. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine. I’m just worried about you.” He sighed before turning to face me as well. 

“I’ve 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.” I nodded. “Have you ever seen someone about it?” “Once, but I had to stop because I criticized their techniques since I knew more about what they were doing than they did.” 

Laughter bubbled in my throat. “Only you, Spence.” We laughed together for a bit before a comfortable silence settled between us. 

“Y/N?” “Yeah?” “Thank you.”

I smiled. “Of course, Spencer.” He hugged me, and we remained in the position, and I fell asleep to the scent of pine and cinnamon.

-*-*-*-*-*-

“Alright, 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 they’ve 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?”

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 weren’t 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 unsub’s 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. “Hey, girls. I think we’ve 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. Garcia’s currently trying to locate him right now. His brother said he would be at work at this time, but he isn’t sure where he works because he isn’t 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. “

I thought for a moment before a realization crossed my mind. “A butcher-shop.”

Emily looked at me. “What makes you say that?” “He’s done extensive research on the quickest way to kill someone, and has been using test subjects until he perfected his technique. If he isn’t 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.”

Morgan responded, “Good work, gorgeous. I’ll tell Garcia to look for butcher-shops in the area and I’ll text you and the others the address.”

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. 

“Are you serious? Ugh. Thanks Garcia.” He hung up before turning to us. “Garcia says that for this shop, Matthews’ shift ends in five minutes. We can’t risk him coming outside and seeing the cop cars when they arrive along with all of the agents standing outside of the building. We can’t wait for the others. We have to move now or we’ll lose him.”

Spencer interrupted, “But didn’t Hotch say-” “I know what Hotch said. But this is our only shot.” 

We nodded before heading inside. Emily showed her badge to the worker at the front. “We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for a Chase Matthews.”

Immediately, clashing sounded from the back, and a door slammed. We all rushed toward the noise and followed him out the door. 

“Chase Matthews!” Morgan screamed. “Stop right there!”

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.

“Another step forward and she’s dead.”

We all stopped in our tracks, guns aimed toward him.

“Everyone get out of here!” Emily yelled out to the others in the park. They quickly abided, leaving the park in a panic.

“Don’t come any closer. I can kill her quicker than you can shoot me.” We froze because we knew he was right. He could kill her in just a matter of moments. Regardless, Spencer stepped foward.

“Reid what are you-” “I’ve got this.”

We watched in anticipation, worry across our features.

“Look, Chase, I know how you’re feeling.” The unsub scoffed. “No, I’m being serious. I know how it feels to feel betrayed. I understand how it feels to be rejected. Unwanted.” My heart sunk at his words.

He continued, slowly walking foward.”It doesn’t 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 isn’t neccesary, and you know that. I don’t think that you want to hurt her.” Chase glanced down at the terrified woman and seemed to be considering his words.

“Just let the girl go, and we can talk about this.” Cautiously, the unsub let the girl go. Emily quickly pulled her away from the man and comforted her.

“Thank you. Now please, there’s no need for weapons. Discard your knife.”

Chase glared at Reid. “I’m not an idiot. All of you have guns.”

Spencer paused for a moment before placing his gun on the ground before him, and gesturing for us to do the same.

Morgan scoffed. “Reid, don’t be stupid.”

Spencer glanced at us. “Please. I know what I’m doing.”

“This is a bad idea, Spencer.” I scolded.

“Just trust me.” I frowned and placed my gun on the ground beside me, Emily following suit and Morgan, several glares later, also did.

“Thank 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 Chase’s face mixed with the knife’s placement on his hand lead me to understand what was about to happen.

“Spencer, wait!-” 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.

“Reid!” I screamed and rushed toward him. Morgan and Emily grabbed their guns and ran to him aswell. “Go, chase after him, I’ll stay with Spencer. What he needs from you right now is to catch him.” Morgan was terrified, but his anger took over and he sprinted after the man faster than I’d 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. “Reid, you’re an idiot, but you’re going to be okay. Hold my hand.” I reached out the hand that wasn’t pressed against his abdomen for him to hold. 

He closed his eyes. “Don’t waste your time, Y/L/N. The man knows his anatomy. He’s probably pierced some sort of vital organ. If the bleeding out doesn’t kill me, that will.”

I shook my head, tears glistening in my eyes. “Shut up, Spencer, for once you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re going to be just fine. Just hold my hand.”

When Spencer mentioned that someone can be tortured without anyone physically touching them, this is exactly what that feels like.

Reid coughed. “Lets just face the reality, Y/N. It’s not going to happen.”

I shushed him, voice becoming higher with fear. “Reid, stop talking. Save your energy. You are going to be fine. Just, please, for the love of god, please hold my hand.”

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.

-*-*-*-*-*-

“You’re an idiot. If you weren’t in a hospital bed I’d be slapping you right now.”

Reid laughed weakly. “Jeez, it’s great to see you too, Y/N.”

Morgan rushed into the room at the sound of Spencer’s voice. “I can’t believe you! Do you understand how worried you made me? I didn’t think you were going to wake up!” The anger in Derek’s words were clear and Spencer cringed, knowing he had messed up. His expression softened. Morgan sighed. “I’m just glad you’re okay, kid. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

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. “You really just wanna hold my hand, huh, Y/L/N?”

I gasped and feigned offense, laughing with him. “I mean, come on, was it really that hard to just hold my frickin’ hand?”

The laughter died down and I sighed, taking in his appearance. “I feel like this is my fault.”

“Y/N, please. It’s nobody’s fault but myself. I’m the one who made you guys drop your weapons. I didn’t listen to Hotch saying we wouldn’t be able to reason with the unsub, and I paid for it.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid.”

Spencer turned his head to face me. “The 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.”

“Wow, it must be my lucky day, proving Dr. Spencer Reid wrong twice in one day.” I laughed to which he smiled softly. “I’m serious, Y/N. Thank you.”

I smiled back at him. “Anything for you, Spence.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

God this took me so long to write. I hope you all enjoyed and as always if there’s a prompt you’d like me to do next let me know!

P.S. Out of curiosity I put this into a machine to count the words and there’s almost 5000 words in this. Just putting that out there ;p

[hcllenic]

(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 they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog  that HE IS NOT HIS FATHER’S BIOLOGICAL SON.

content warnings for death, drug use ?? i think thats it

he’s cupid’s 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 doesn’t believe in said curse, but the truth is more that he doesn’t want to believe in the curse.

moves from highs to lows really quickly – one week he’s extremely extroverted and ready to fight god and the next he’s 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 family’s attention / approval / warmth

is honestly very defensive – i don’t mean in arguments, but rather when it comes to relationships. he’s the first one to cut and run because he tends to anticipate the fall before it happens. he tells himself he doesn’t care about his siblings because he’s honestly convinced they would sell his soul to satan for one corn chip.

nothing is eternal and he really knows this – he’s constantly waiting for death to come ‘round 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 parent’s estate in romania but he really liked to travel and would do so often, after he turned sixteen

he thought he’d 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 (they’d 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 doesn’t really have that much internalized homophobia but he DOES have internalized cursephobia. if he thinks he’s into someone regardless of their gender he’ll ghost them or start a fight w them intentionally or start deliberately trying to notice their flaws

found out he wasn’t his father’s 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. he’s 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 it’s time for apollo to take a ridiculous amount of adderall and finish a ten page paper in three hours. they’re 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 he’s 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

he’s kind of intelligent but he’s 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 he’s not secretive about that one particular aspect of his personality like he’ll let people know that if they want a relationship he’s 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 he’s a secret romantic just like... doesn’t wanna get hurt. and he CLAIMS he doesn’t believe in the family curse but that’s kind of bullshit. he does. a potential simp pretending he does not have the capacity to simp

can be awful at taking advice. he’ll listen to it and understand it but he’ll disregard it anyway

very bad at being optimistic. he does feel a bit cursed, again, even if he claims he doesn’t believe in said curse. the blackthorn bad luck always feels like its nipping at his heels.

he can be sooooo dramatic. he’s obnoxious <3

but he’s also like..... relatively independent? he doesn’t 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 he’ll just say fuck it (unless he’s 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 he’s not actually related to his father by blood. it makes him think about all the conflicts he’d 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 family’s love may very well be entirely conditional and he’s 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) – 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.

they’ve 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.

they’re similarly chaotic / detached / miserable and sometimes they lean heavily on each other because they don’t really have anyone else who gets it.

they committed a crime together once

they’re attracted to each other but he goes out of his way to avoid them bc he’s 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

[dear-yandere]

lots of ilya q&a below - part 1

tw ... mentions of noncon and murder.

[ part 2 ] 

question:  so Ilya wouldn’t 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 he’s suffered, he should have a “free pass” to inflict suffering onto others, so of course he isn’t 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 isn’t 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). ilya’d be sure to use the cop’s 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 – worst of all –  how popular darling’s pictures / videos have become on the dark web.

in reality, ilya has the upper hand in this situation. he’s avoided the cops for so long, what’s another one? then again, this devil-may-care mentality will surely be his downfall if the cop is competent enough to catch him.

question: Also sorry for spamming u I’m 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 I’d 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 I’d want him to protect child me lol cause I just want someone to watch out 4 me,,

answer: 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, he’d feel uncomfortable with assaulting / killing them even after learning their age.

and i agree! ilya would’ve 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 they’d be prolonging their lifespan should they have the misfortune of meeting this man.

question 1: Can I ask how Ilya would react to a darling who cant die? Or dies but comes back to life each time? I’m torn between thinking he’d be frustrated because his ultimate show of love won’t stick or ecstatic that he has someone he can kill over and over again

question 2: 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 “grief”.

he’d be angry and distraught at first, adamant about maintaining his denial toward the situation. he’s never encountered a darling who couldn’t 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. 

during the bargaining stage, he’d 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, he’d 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, he’d rationalize his options and eventually decide to begrudgingly accept his darling’s immortality.

during the acceptance stage, he’d be willfully ignorant. he’d 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 can’t overcome in life; ilya is fascinated by the marriage between death and love, and this particular darling is challenging his entire world view. he’d rather remain ignorant.

so basically, while he isn’t fond of having more than one darling at a time, he’d shun this immortal darling and no longer think of them as his. this seems counterintuitive, but a big part of ilya’s character is his hypocrisy and ignorance. they define who he is and act as a reminder of his past and innate psychopathic tendencies.

question: 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 don’t care about hurting others but when u strip that down isn’t that just following your desires? Like are people like that obligated to be into violent stuff? Cause if Ilya just really liked collecting fish there’d be no issue.. I kinda think it’s a way to lash out at the world without letting it get 2 u

answer: i hope i understood this question correctly.

i can’t speak for actual psychopaths or serial killers obviously, but ilya is willfully ignorant and hypocritical. it’s his way of ‘lashing out without letting it get to him’ – his way of coping, basically. if he had a good childhood, it’s certainly possible he wouldn’t 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 aren’t 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 ilya’s parents had been more attentive, they would’ve noticed their son’s unsettling tendencies. killing animals is a big indicator of something greater at play and i’m sure they would’ve taken him for a psychological screening. i’m no doctor or psychiatrist (i’m not even in the medical field), but i imagine that with early detection and proper therapy, ilya might’ve 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 he’s fucked up which is why he can’t have a kid BC he wouldn’t want them involved in that life so like.. if he knows he’s 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 “the world hurt me so I’m allowed to hurt others” - is it like that? Cause u said he’s a hypocrite and that’s quite hypocritical imo (if u know how bad it can be why make others suffer too yk?)

answer: part of it is that ilya is naturally sadistic and psychopathic, he doesn’t care if others suffer. even if he hadn’t become a serial rapist and killer, he would’ve 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 it’s not that he’s an idiot or blind; it’s more of that he doesn’t give a damn about how selfish or contradictory he’s being.

you’re right that he thinks that he’s allowed to hurt others because the world hurt him, but it’s a bit beyond that. so for your question ‘why hurt others if you know how bad it can be’ – he gets off on it. even if he wasn’t the one committing crimes, he’d still get off on it. he’s 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 he’s charming and doesn’t 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 doesn’t exist in the same universe as eu-jin or any of my other ocs! he’s human, so he’d get ripped to shreds pretty fast, especially by the overly-obsessive and protective supernatural (gumiho) eu-jin who hasn’t seen his darling in literal millennia. 

yuu wouldn’t even bother cannibalizing ilya, as he usually does with his prey; he’d 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 can’t 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 former’s darling with interest, it’d 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: he’d be furious at first. to him, running away is the ultimate act of denying his love -- but, he’s a man that appreciates some fun every now and then. while he isn’t fond of darlings that fight back (especially when he’s about to kill them), having a darling who spices his life up every now and then is exhilarating. he’ll decide to play along with this darling’s 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 i’ve 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 doesn’t care enough to change his habits.

[cassinixii]

Title: It never was an option for me to not go there,  I'm frightened of the ocean but still I'm setting sails. || Carousel of Horror: NPC's Published: July 4, 2016 | 6:50am Description:

Title: lyrics from "Fade Away" by Måns Zelmerlöw Tags: #carouselinfo ________________________________

♒ Joanna Blackwood ♒ ☛ FC: Laura Benanti ☛ Occupation: Manager of the Rothenstern Estate ☛ Age: 36 ☛ Personality: polite and always smiling, Joanna is the courteous and ever-pleasing host and queen of the Rothenstern estate. Nothing happens without her knowledge, and it is her duty to make sure everything runs smoothly and efficiently, a duty she carries out with pride and performs quite perfectly. Minus all the dying people. ☛ Bio: Originally from the states, Joanna moved to England at 18, eventually finding work at the Rothenstern Estate by the time she was 20, working her way up from mere assistant to Manager. She seems to be completely aware of the supernatural disturbances at the Estate, but prefers to explain them away, maintaining the equity and profits of the Estate instead. ☛ Other: Although she and the owner of the estate, Rika Rothenstern, have both been present at the palace for the past 16 years, they rarely interact, Joanna knowing next to nothing about her employer.

♑ Rika Rothenstern ♑ ☛ FC: Gabriella Pession ☛ Occupation: Heiress to the Rothenstern Fortune ☛ Age: 32 ☛ Personality: mysterious and reserved, although she rarely interacts with the majority of the guests, she always seems to be around, silently observing and judging from a distance. However, when angry, she goes from zero to 160 in .0 seconds flat, skilled in swords and words, her words cut sharper than her knives. ☛ Bio: The last living Rothenstern, Rika stands to inherit the vast Rothenstern fortune once Veronika Petra Rothenstern's, her cousin and the only other heir, heart stops beating. Although technically alive, Veronika was in an accident 6 years ago, and was declared brain dead, the rest of her body is kept alive through various machines, Rika lacking legal authority, as well as the will, to pull the plug. Rika has lived at the Estate for the majority of her existence, but seems to not care about the happenings and misfortunes of the estate, and does not seem to fear for her life.  She does, however, absolutely despise the carousel in the court gardens and never goes near it. ☛ Other: Rika also has a fear of being buried alive, so much so that she avoids grassy areas of the court gardens, staying near the fountains and statues or simply remaining indoors.

♏ DI Theodore "Theo" Thomas ♏ ☛ FC: MÃ¥ns Zelmerlöw ☛ Occupation: Detective Inspector ☛ Age: 30 ☛ Personality: Actual dork, Theo's got a few obsessive compulsive tendencies, keeping all his files perfectly aligned, and occasionally organizing his colleagues files as well, however, he's an incredibly messy eater, and leaves his clothes lying around everywhere, and for some reason, these qualities don't aggravate his OCD, only when he sees someone else do it (hypocrite). He's also a sore loser, a nerd, and very pretty. The last one has nothing to do with his personality, but it's important you know that. ☛ Bio: A Detective at Scotland Yard, Theo first went to the Rothenstern Estate in order to investigate the case of "La Belle en Rouge," the young bride-to-be who was murdered on the Estate grounds 3 months ago. Incapable of letting cases go unsolved, he's taken personal leave and is staying at the Estate to solve the crime. ☛ Other: MINE! No, not really. He loves Star Wars and Superheroes, and does tend to talk about them endlessly. And relate any and every situation to them.  

♉ Alexandrina "Sasha" Jager ♉ ☛ FC: Melanie Scrofano ☛ Occupation: Hunter ☛ Age: 27 ☛ Personality: Abrasive, crude, rude, and to the point. Sasha comes off as uncaring and uninterested, but she's highly disciplined and observant, despite her endless innuendoes and sarcastic comments. She also as the heart of a reckless hero, always running jead first into danger, and she tends to shoot first, ask later in such situations. ☛ Bio: A Russian-born hunter, she travelled throughout the states as a child with her father, hunting various ghouls and creatures that go bump in the night since she was child, killing her first demon, a wendigo, at the age of 12, albeit her father was nearby in case something went wrong. She soon after moved to Russia to be with her mother, then hunting with her throughout Europe. An expert in Slavic mythology, Sasha was drawn to the Estate after the widely publicized case of "La Bella en Rouge," the most recent person to die at the Rothenstern Estate. And with it's rate of 365 deaths in a mere 106 years, she's keen to figure out what Nocnitsa is reigning havoc here. ☛ Other: although she makes endless sexually laced jokes and comments, when actively pursuing someone, whether it be a casual encounter or something more long lasting, she becomes rather flustered and awkward.

♐ Arina ♐ ☛ FC: Vanessa Hessler ☛ Occupation: Maid at the Rothenstern Estate ☛ Age: 26 ☛ Personality: efficient and bossy. Arina has no patience for incompetence during work hours. She can be quite snippy to fellow employees, regardless of their rank below or above her. ☛ Bio: She's German, and in charge (of the other maids). That's basically what anyone knows about her. ☛ Other: As the staff live at the Estate, during her free time, she essentially just hangs out with Gaby and Clarissa, and although she eases up on her bossiness with everyone else during off hours, she still tends to boss those two around, like a big sister, and often looks out for them.

♋ Gabriella "Gaby" ♋ ☛ FC: Antonina Vasylchenko ☛ Occupation: Maid at the Rothenstern Estate ☛ Age: 25 ☛ Personality: Gossipy, and excitable. She could be described as bright and shiny (Early Grey's Anatomy joke there). ☛ Bio: She first came to the Estate 5 years ago, attracted to mystery, but more to the lives and secrets of it's wealthy cliental, as well as the vast and scandalous history of it's owner, the Estate itself having been built for a mistress. ☛ Other: She's rather clumsy and not the best at her job, but Clarissa and Arina help her out and cover for her, having formed their little clique (as Gaby calls it, Arina would prefer family).

♊ Clarissa ♊ ☛ FC: Jessica Brown Findlay ☛ Occupation: Maid at the Rothenstern Estate ☛ Age: 28 ☛ Personality: Dark and twisty (grey's joke part 2), she's rather morbid, and enjoys discussing and joking about the various graphic and violent things that have occurred at the estate. She enjoys horror fiction, but has a preference for non-fiction, and the Rothenstern Estate has experience a hella ton of non-fictional horrors. (*Disclaimer, it is fictional, the Estate doesn't even exist) ☛ Bio: Unknown. She's literally never once spoken about herself, she's assumed to be English, but who knows? ☛ Other: Completely uninterested in her job, and rather lazy, if it wasn't for Arina kicking her butt into action, she would've been fired a while ago.

_____________________________ Group Members: [removed for tumblr convenience] 

[cubeg1rl]

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 I’ve 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 it’s something I’ve 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?)? what’s like the vibe??

[hobbithole123]

Malec Week Day 2: Disney Tangled AU

Happy Malec Week! This will be my only contribution because I’m really busy so I hope you like this! Didn’t 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: 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.

“It is said,” the Englishman’s hushed voice fills the quiet room. It is laced with the wonder and excitement of a tale hardly spoken but widely known. “that 20 years ago in this very kingdom, Queen Maryse Lightwood was pregnant with her first child.”

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.

“Her 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.” He pauses, grinning at the look of intrigue on his companion’s faces. He allows the tavern’s silence to envelope them for a moment before continuing on.

“So 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 it’s 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.”

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.

“It'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.”

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. “I am not concerned with what happened to the boy, just how much the crown that's simply laying around the castle is worth.”

“You don't really believe that Ragnor, do you?” Catarina, their other partner in crime and brains behind their operations, asks in amusement. “Vampires and angels and all that?”

Ragnor shrugs. “I've both heard and seen crazier.”

Catarina and Magnus roll their eyes, used to their friend’s 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. “Anyhow, 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.” Ragnor shrugs in response, a small smile quirking at the edge of his lips.

“I suppose, it’s just quite the interesting story.”

“Yes, well, you can obsess about its background after we manage to steal it.”

“You mean if we manage to steal it,” Ragnor grunts. He enjoys being indulged with things he enjoys and Magnus’ flippant remarks always make him grumpy.

“You dare doubt my plan?” Catarina questions with a raised brow.

“Of course not, I just think we have to go over it a few more times. There are still some gaps and what ifs.”

“I don't know,” Magnus grins. “I liked my idea.”

Cat crosses her arms, an unamused glare settled deeply on her face. “To wing it?”

“I 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,” Ragnor sighs.

Magnus leans back in his chair, bringing his cup of ale to his lips with a sly smirk. “Come on. Have a little faith.”

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.

“Alec! I'm home!” 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.

“Happy to see me?” she inquires.

“Of course!” 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 “none of you business”. 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.

“Thank you!” 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.

“You're welcome, darling. It is your birthday soon, after all.” 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.

“What do you want now?”

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.

“Okay, so, I was wondering if maybe I-uh could uh…” he trails off. Her look of natural distaste and indifference isn't really helping, but he reminds himself this is important. “You know how it's my birthday soon?”

She heaves a bored sigh, “Yes, Alec.”

“Well, I know you've told me the outside world is a bad place and all, but-”

“Wait,” Camille interrupts, immediately sitting up straight in her chair, a look of rage flashing in her eyes. “Are you suggesting you leave this tower? Leave me?” 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.

“W-what? No,” he stutters out. Because how could he want to leave? After all she has done for him to protect him? “I-uh, just wanted you to get me a new quiver. Maybe leather-skinned? My old one is a little worn out.”

She sighs, almost in relief, and sinks back into her chair but nods. “Yes. Fine. Whatever. I'll leave tomorrow once I top up on some…” she pauses. “sleep.”

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. Camille’s voice stops him before he gets too far, though.

“Alec,” 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. “You know why you can't go outside, right?” she continues.

Alec nods, but it feels involuntary. All he is aware of is her eyes as he feels himself speak. “People are naturally bad. They won't accept me for who I am and it's safer up here with you.” 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. “You'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.”

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. “You can go now.”

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.

“I told you there were too many holes in your bloody plan!” Ragnor shouts over to Magnus and Catarina as they run through the dark woods, a fleet of royal guards not too far behind.

“What plan?” Cat bellows out.

Magnus laughs crazily, gesturing wildly to his the bag he carries. “We got the crown didn't we?”

“Not for long!” 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. “Sorry, dears, but this crown is ours now!” He looks over at his companions quickly, catching the uneasiness of their expressions easily. “Lets split up. They'll get confused in these dark woods. We meet back at the tavern, okay?”

Catarina breaths out a confirmation, ready to split on Magnus’ signal. Ragnor looks even more uneasy.

“Why do we always listen to you?”

Magnus grins before hissing “Now!”

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 Magnus’ 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.

“Jace, we'll find them and the crown. We can't be too far behind,” a woman’s voice says reassuringly.

“It's not like you to be optimistic, Lydia,” 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.

“I 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,” she sighs.

“Yeah, 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.”

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.

“Yeah, well, it's unlikely, but it's possible,” Lydia says. They're closer to Magnus now, just outside of the cave, and slowly passing. “And I know you believe it could happen just as much as your parents.”

Jace huffs, allowing a silence to fall before he clears his throat and Magnus hears the kick of a heel against a horse. “We need to keep looking.”

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 there’s barely a doubt in Magnus’ 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. There’s 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 Magnus’ attention, though, is how weirdly clean it is. Whoever lives here must have quite a bit of time on their hands.

He doesn’t 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 hasn’t awoken, which Alec doesn’t know whether to feel good about or not. Is it good that he knocked someone into unconsciousness? He can’t deny he feels a little proud at proving he can handle himself.

He just doesn’t know why he tied him up. He didn’t 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 isn’t here now. She left on her journey to get Alec his gift and won’t be back for days. Perhaps this story is Alec’s chance at convincing her of his abilities.

He looks at the man again. He doesn’t 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 stranger’s styled hair catches both the sun and Alec’s 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. “Rope,” he groans. “Kinky.”

Alec raises an eyebrow and steps forward into the light, arrow at the ready, catching the man’s 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 isn’t in a near-death situation, or has been too many times for this to be significant.

As those eyes scan him, Alec can’t 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 doesn’t waiver, but there's always that shred of doubt.

“Who are you? And why did you come here?” he asks, voice low and steady.

The man’s eyes snap up to Alec and his lips quirk into a teasing smile, eyebrows raised almost innocently as he gazes straight into the archer’s eyes. “If I had known a beautiful deity lived here I would have come sooner.”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes is distracting, but Alec frowns in response, stepping closer.

“My name is Alec, and I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m the one with the weapon here. Now, who are you?”

“Aw, you’re no fun. When I awoke all tied up I was expecting a pleasant surprise. Emphasis on the pleasure.” The glittery man’s smirk grows when Alec’s 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 he’s a little tied down at the moment and sighs. “Tough crowd. But fine, if I tell you, will you untie me?”

Alec thinks for a moment then takes a step back, lowering his bow a little. “Perhaps.”

The man lets out a short laugh. A pleasant sound, Alec thinks, compared to Camille’s usual taunting laughs. He raises a flirtatious eyebrow and smirks. Or, more accurately, smoulders.

“Well, perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m Magnus Bane.”

The name rolls off his tongue like a purr, and he tilts his chin up with pride, like he’s 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.

“I can’t say I have,” he answers instead, in response getting a short huff of contempt from the other man. “Is...that your actual name? ‘Magnus Bane’?”

‘Magnus Bane’ looks up at him, a grin growing on his face as he tilts his head. “Don’t you trust me?”

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. “Does it look like I trust you?” All he gets is a shrug and smirk from Magnus, so he continues. “Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”

“Ah, yes, well, I was running from the castle guards because-” 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. “My satchel,” he finally murmurs out. “Where’s my satchel?!” he says, this time louder.

There’s something new in his eyes now, something that wasn’t 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 Magnus’ 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. “Why? What's in it?”

“Something you don't need to concern yourself with, darling.” This time there's a hint of annoyance. “Now let me go and give it back.”

“Your persuasion skills work magic,” 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 Alec’s attention back to him. “It's called natural charm.” 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. “What's so special about this? What is it?”

Magnus gives him a curious look, annoyance still evident. “It's a crown. And it's special because it belonged to a prince.”

“So it's not yours?” Alec’s fingers fiddle with the jewels and trace the intricate patterns. “I take what you do isn't very honest.”

“Let's just say I need it more than they do.”

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.

“I'm going to offer you a deal, ‘Magnus Bane’,” he says. Magnus gives him a sceptical look, playful demeanour vanishing to reveal a desperate man.

“What?”

“I 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.”

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. “That's what you want? Can't you do that on your own? Why do you need me?”

Alec shifts his eyes away from him and frowns. “I've never been outside of this tower.” Magnus eyebrows hike up in surprise and Alec, feeling defensive, raises his bow.

“Will you take me?” he booms.

Magnus assesses him sceptically, eyes ending up focused on the weapon in his hands. “I don't think you know how to use that thing,” 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 man’s resolve for the first time.

“Fine.”

[stag-bi]

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!!

[cygnetofthesea]

(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/ Barry’s 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 uncle’s awareness of Iris’s identity that may lead to a possible threat on her life. These knowledge weight heavily on his conscience that it’s 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 Rory’s end….

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 there’s Iris. I totally realize the gravity of their conflict & separation at that moment. B’s 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 Iris’s 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) B’s public persona as an employee w/ Ramon Industries wasn’t 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 she’s undergoing counseling or therapy? Overall, these aren’t 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!!✌️😁 ❤️              

As always, lovely to hear your thoughts!

Despite Barry’s shady lifestyle, at heart, he’s not evil or someone who sets out to harm.  At the end of the day for him, this is a job and he’s concerned with getting from point A to B with as little damage as possible.  He doesn’t at all relish hurting people unlike Rory who just doesn’t 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, she’s 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, he’s 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. 

I hope it’s evident that Barry’s 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, I’m trashing the morbid endings and want to give them something better.   

As far as Barry’s current job, it’s not important or relevant to the story.  It’s negligible to the point where if I hadn’t mentioned it, it wouldn’t 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, it’s 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, it’s not really important so you didn’t miss anything!  Same with Dr. Finkle.  It’s just an allusion to something they have previously discussed “off-screen” and a little reference to the show.  Also a negligible detail.  I apologize if it caused confusion! 

Thank you for your thoughtful response and I’m hoping I can bang out the next installment soon :D xoxo 

(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 tomorrow’s episode to help things along)

[truthinsideofyou]

Morbid Museums: For Those Curious About Death, Torture, and Crime.

Are you a horror movie freak? Do colour black turns you on? Any secret obsession for Serial Killer? No, we are not going to judge you but if the above-mentioned things are absolutely you then this article about morbid museums is definitely for you. (more…)