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horanghaejamjam · 2 years ago

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Jigsaw - {CS}

↪ Summary: You are the lead detective in an investigation surrounding one of the most infamous killers the city has ever seen. Unfortunately for you, Jigsaw knows you're onto him and has played you like a game at every turn, threatening the case and your status. Your determination to catch him finally gets you a lead, only for you to find yourself tangled in a special trap that he designed just for you. Let the game begin.

↪ Pairings: Jigsaw Killer Choi San x Female Detective Reader

↪ Rating: M 18+

↪ Genre: Non-idol/Slasher/Horror movie au/ Suggestive / Fluff/Friends to enemies to lovers

↪ Word Count: 5.7k

↪ Warnings/Contents: References to classic horror movies, mainly Saw, Silence of the Lambs, and Scream. Mentions of death/murder/being shot (not detailed). Seonghwa and Mingi both make cameos in this story with a few other members being mentioned. Swearing and implied smut (MDNI). San being a teasing little shit, makeout sessions, fondling over clothes.

↪ Side Notes: To the wonderful @pinkywritings hi darling I was your assigned Ghost Writer for the @atinyhalloweenproject. This is my first time writing for San and I had a lot of fun with it so I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it is so late I wanted to have it out by Halloween but due to the sudden weather change we haven't had power. I tried to make it longer to make up for that so hopefully it doesn't feel rushed and was worth the wait!

I honestly may do a part two to this or an expansion later on because I love the idea of Jigsaw San but we'll see.

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“Police officials are seeking any leads in identifying the man known only to the public as the Jigsaw killer. He is believed to be linked in multiple disappearances and murders that have taken place around Seoul for the past three months. The victims were all found in various handmade traps and had a puzzle piece drawn somewhere visible on their body. At this time investigators have no leads and are asking the public for any knowledge they may have on this public threat.”

The reporter's voice faded to nothing as the volume on the TV was lowered to zero. You groaned softly to yourself as you tossed the remote to the side, running your hands through your hair as you sat forward on your couch. It had been just over a month since you were assigned the Jigsaw murder case, the last detective backing out after the man in question threatened to target his family. The case was quickly transferred over to you, one of the best detectives in your field, but it was very quickly starting to test your patience.

Whoever this Jigsaw was, he was a clever man. He left no trace, no evidence, nothing that would allow you to track him down. You went through surveillance, interviewed the family and friends of the victims, tried breaking down his traps for any clues, but any lead always led you right back to square one. You had tried to be patient, hoping that eventually he would slip up and give you something, but it was starting to sound like wishful thinking. Even worse, he knew who you were and started calling you out directly. You would find notes addressed to you, pictures, voice messages, all calling you out and taunting you. It was like he was playing some cruel game with you and you had no choice but to play along or risk losing everything. You couldn’t even walk to work anymore without some reporter chasing you down demanding an explanation or any evidence you had in the case. It came to a point where you only went to the office when called, and the rest of your work you did from home.

Various evidence pictures and case files were thrown across your coffee table, a few rough notes scribbled in between. You had been looking at the same files for the past couple of hours, dissecting every last word to see if you had missed any connections. Your last victim had been found 72 hours ago, and you knew you only had a day at most before the next one. There were a few things you had discovered about Jigsaw, and the main one was that he worked on a schedule. Once someone was reported missing, it would be three days before their body turned up and the cycle would start again. Whoever this man was, he clearly enjoyed his patterns, and that is what you found yourself looking for, any pattern you may have missed.

“Working from home again I see?” you practically jumped out of your skin as you heard the deep voice of your roommate behind you, turning around to see his tall frame leaning over the couch.

“For Fucks sake Mingi you almost gave me a heart attack!” you whined, reaching up to lightly smack at him, “what are you doing here anyways I thought you weren’t coming home tonight.” You and Mingi had been friends for as long as you could remember, having met back in high school and staying together through college and your time at the police academy. He was like a brother to you at this point and you trusted him so you didn’t mind if he saw your work, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to. Mingi always found your work to be fascinating and would bug you randomly about cases, which only grew more when you started investigating Jigsaw, though you assumed it was just because you got to bring your work home now. Just as you predicted, he made his way to the other side of the couch and took a seat next to you, picking up one of the crime scene photos to get a better look.

“I was going to stay at Yunhos tonight but something came up and he had to cancel,” Mingi explained, running his thumb over the picture he was holding, “ouch this looks like it would have been painful, what is it?”

“That’s one of Jigsaw's latest traps,” you answered, snatching the photo away from him, “I’m looking through it to see if I can find any missing clues.”

“Have you found anything?”

“Sadly no, he’s very good at covering his tracks. It’s been a month and we still don’t have any leads on this guy, it’s like he’s a ghost or something.” Mingi hummed softly as he continued to look through all the pictures, careful not to mess them up knowing you would yell at him if he did.

“Now I’m no expert but, are you sure you’re only looking for one person?” he asked, catching you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean all these crime scenes you’ve shown me have been pretty big and this says it only took three days, seems like a lot of work for one person if you ask me.” Mingi explained, “and that’s why your patterns wouldn’t line up like you want them to.” You blinked up at him dumbly for a moment as you processed his words, looking back down at the file you had basically memorized by this point. You didn’t want to admit it, but Mingi had a point.

“You know that’s actually not a bad idea,” you muttered.

“I can be helpful sometimes you know,” he bragged with a laugh, earning himself a punch to the shoulder. He didn’t have time to retaliate though as you were packing up all of your things and rushing towards the door, “Wait where are you going?”

“I need to check on something, don’t wait up for me!” you called back, pulling on your coat and running out the door as he called after you. In your rush you hadn’t realized that you dropped part of your case file on your way out, nor did you notice Mingi pulling out his phone to call someone as he closed the door to your apartment.

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You made it to the crime scene in no time, an abandoned warehouse located just on the edge of the city. You parked your car a bit away and pulled out a flashlight as you made your way inside, ducking under the caution tape and pulling your jacket closer to yourself as you looked around. The clean up crew had gotten most of the scene cleaned by now, but the trap itself was still there. A weirdly broken mess of chains and blades that you wouldn’t have been able to put back together if you wanted to, making you wonder how Jigsaw even came up with the idea in the first place. You shook the thought out of your head and made your way to one of the blades, leaning down to inspect it carefully. It was sharp with a curve to it, but almost messy in design as if it was handmade. To test that theory you took a look at another one and noticed the same thing except this one was thicker and less curved despite being set up the same way. The chains themselves were also a bit sloppy when you looked at them closely, almost as if they had been done in a rush. It wasn’t as clean as Jigsaw's normal work, and now Mingis suggestion that you were dealing with more than one culprit seemed more plausible.

You took your phone out to snap a picture just as the door to the warehouse opened, a new light pouring in and a familiar voice calling your name.

“Over here!” you called back, flashing your light in his direction so he could see you. Quick footsteps made their way towards you before a familiar figure came into view. Park Seonghwa, a senior detective that had transferred over to your department a little over a year ago and assigned as your partner. You had been against the idea at first since your original partner had been killed only a few weeks prior during an investigation gone wrong. The chief had insisted it would be for the best though since you needed the help and Seonghwas cool and more collected nature would balance you out nicely which would prove to be true. Your impulsiveness had driven the older detective crazy a few times, but for the most part the two of you got along well and you could even consider him a friend. He was wearing a long black coat and matching gloves and his hair was long and falling into his face rather than slicked up like normal, probably because he had been at home resting when you called him.

“Would you care to explain why you called me out here in the middle of the night when I haven’t heard from you in the last 48 hours?” Seonghwa questioned, unable to hide the annoyance in his tone.

“I’ll make it up to you but I figured this couldn’t wait,” you muttered, going back to inspect the chain again, “I’m trying to prove a theory about something.”

“That theory being?”

“What if Jigsaw isn't working alone?” you challenged, “what if it’s more than one person, that would explain why nothing lines up.” Seonghwas eyes widened a bit and you could have sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?”

“Oh nothing,” he brushed you off, “what made you so convinced of this new theory? Did you find something?” You froze for a second, not wanting to expose yourself for letting a member of the general public view the case file.

“Just a hunch,” you lied, “but I mean look at the way this trap was built, it's messy compared to the others, almost as if it was made by someone else.”

“Or maybe Jigsaw just ran out of time and rushed on it,” he argued.

“Can you just humor me for five seconds Seonghwa,” you groaned, “maybe I’m wrong yes but isn’t it at least worth looking into?” Seonghwa rolled his eyes but gave in, walking to the other side of the trap to get a better look. You were too distracted by your own work to pay much attention to him, meticulously looking through every detail of the trap despite not actually knowing what you were looking for. Your instinct was telling you that there was something there you were overlooking, something that was hiding in plain sight, you just had to figure out what that was.

“Hey Y/N,” Seonghwa called out after a few minutes, “I think I found something.” Your head shot up and you quickly dusted yourself off before making your way over. Seonghwa was standing in the corner of the warehouse holding what looked to be a tape recorder. “I found it tucked away over here, may have gotten knocked around during the investigation,” he explained.

“Does it say anything?” you asked, taking the recorder from his hands and pressing the play button. There was only static for a moment before a robotic voice spoke up, like someone was speaking through a voice changer. Despite that, you couldn’t help but feel like the voice seemed familiar to you, but it was hard to tell through the editing.

“Hello Detective Y/L/N,” the tape addressed you, sending a chill through your body, “these past few weeks you have been running around in circles trying to discover who I am. You have been closer to the truth than you realize but you always end up blindsided by your work and, as a result, you overlook the answer that is right in front of you. I have enjoyed silently watching you up until this point but now it is getting quite boring so why don’t we make this a bit more fun? Do you like games, detective? I hope you do because I want to play a game with you. I have left a riddle for you, the answer to which will tell you all you need to know about who I am and what I do. You have 48 hours to find the riddle and tell me the answer or you will find yourself and those closest to you in a very undesirable situation. The timer starts the second this recording ends, let’s hope you are as clever as everyone says you are. Let the game begin.”

You felt your blood run cold as the tape came to an end, barely registering Seonghwas hand on your shoulder as you tried to process everything you just heard. Seonghwa tried talking to you but you ignored him, pushing his hand off and rushing back to your car, your partner not far behind you.

“Where are you going? We should report this to the office first!” he called after you.

“What good is reporting it going to do? You heard him Hwa I have 48 hours to figure out who this guy is or we’re all screwed, I can’t waste time.”

“So what you’re going to rush into something and get yourself killed?” he argued.

“Better than doing nothing and getting everyone else killed,” you snapped back, “now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find this riddle he’s talking about.” Seonghwa called after you again but by this point you had gotten in your car and were already making your way back to your apartment. Part of you felt like going home was a bad idea, but you also couldn’t help but feel like something was pulling you to go there. The same feeling of familiarity that you got hearing the tape returned, making you feel more and more uneasy as you pulled into your apartment complex. Like you knew who Jigsaw was and yet the image of his face was blurred any time you tried to imagine him.

Mingi didn’t seem to be home when you got back, his shoes were gone and the light was off. You couldn’t focus on that though, as your attention was drawn to the stack of papers placed neatly on your coffee table. You carefully walked over and looked through the pile, recognizing pictures from all the different crime scenes you had investigated so far, each one marked with red ink.

‘Y/N, doesn’t this random pattern seem a bit too random?’

‘This is quite close to home don’t you think?’

‘The truth has been in front of you the whole time.’

‘Why do I do what I do?’

‘Did you miss me?’

You ran your hand through your hair as you continued looking through the pictures, realizing that the riddle was basically going to send you on a scavenger hunt. It would take forever for you to go back through each crime scene and look back through everything to find out what he was talking about. Even worse, it was pretty late and you could feel exhaustion slowly taking over you, slouching over the coffee table and eventually laying against it as you fell asleep trying to decipher the riddle.

You were jolted awake by the sound of your phone vibrating, groaning softly as you sat up and reached into your pocket for the device. You half expected it to be a call from Mingi or Seonghwa, but instead you were greeted with the same robotic voice from the night before. Only this time, you were able to hear his actual voice a bit more and it was one you swore you had heard before.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty, I hope my riddle didn’t keep you up all night,” the voice immediately woke you up, straightening your posture as you looked around.

“Who is this?” you asked.

“Aww I’m almost offended you don’t remember me, we go way back you know,” the voice responded, “I’ve missed you Y/N, and even if you don’t remember me now I know you miss me too.” You paused for a moment at his words before realizing now was not the time to worry about that.

“Why are you doing this?”

“That. my dear detective is for you to find out, you always did enjoy the thrill of a good challenge didn’t you? I figured you would have solved my puzzle by now but since I believe in giving people a fair chance I’ll give you another clue. One of those puzzle pieces doesn’t quite belong, once you find the answer I will be waiting for you in the place we last met, don’t keep me waiting Doll.” With that the call ended, causing you to groan in frustration and toss your phone to the side.

“I’ve had about enough of these damn games,” you huffed, rubbing your hands over your eyes. You looked through the pictures again before one in particular caught your eye. It wasn’t one of the Jigsaw crime scenes, but instead it was a picture of an older house, one that you recognized from your last murder investigation with your old partner, San. The memories slowly came back to you and that’s when it finally clicked for you, the puzzle and the reason the voice sounded so familiar to you. That was impossible though, San was dead, you had been at the hospital with him when the doctors told you there was nothing they could do. There was no way that San was still alive, and yet you would recognize his voice anywhere. Shaking your head, you grabbed your phone and stood up, calling Seonghwa and telling him to meet you at the house in question as you left your apartment and got in your car. The whole ride there you tried ignoring the feeling of dread that came over you, hoping that your intuition was wrong.

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Seonghwa was already at the house before you got there, leaning against the wall with a blank expression. “I take it you found the answer to your riddle?” he asked as you walked past him, leading him inside.

“As much as I hope I am wrong I think I did,” you confessed, “and if I’m right the clue we are looking for should be here somewhere.” Seonghwa stood still in the middle of the room as you frantically looked around, digging through his pocket and following your movements with his eyes.

“This isn’t one of the crime scenes,” he pointed out, “what exactly are we looking for?”

“Jigsaw said to find him at the place we last met and this place was the only one pictured that wasn’t one of the crime scenes,” you explained. Seonghwa hummed softly at your answer, but you ignored him as you continued looking around.

“Why here then, what’s so special about this place?” you froze for a moment at the question, an action that didn’t go unnoticed.

“This was the last place I investigated with my first partner,” you answered, “he was shot during the investigation and I thought he was dead but I’m starting to think I was wrong.”

“You think it’s him,” Seonghwa stated rather than asked, to which you nodded.

“I don’t know why he would do such a thing, but it all lines up.” Seonghwa sighed and glanced down at his watch before making his way towards you.

“I’m surprised you know, you solved the riddle faster than we thought you would, we’re a bit ahead of schedule.” His words made your blood run cold, freezing as your head turned to look at him.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m sorry about this Y/N,” Seonghwa apologized, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a syringe, “just know I don’t make the rules, I’m just the delivery guy.” Before you could react to his words he had grabbed you and injected you with what you assumed was some kind of anesthesia, your body going limp in his hold almost immediately and your vision going black. The last thing you remember hearing was his voice and footsteps approaching before you completely lost consciousness.

When you returned to consciousness the first thing that you noticed was that you couldn’t move. Your arms and legs were handcuffed to a chair that also appeared to be bolted to the floor so you couldn’t tip it over. Tugging at your restraints, you glanced around to find that you were in some sort of workshop, various trap parts and gadgets tossed around multiple workbenches. At the front of the room were what appeared to be security monitors, each watching different parts of the city that you could just barely make out.

“I have to hand it to you Y/N,” a voice said from behind you, “the last detective didn’t make it nearly as far.” The sound of footsteps echoed through the room before a figure appeared in your vision, wearing a full body red and black hood. Even though his face was covered by the hood, you could feel the presence of your former partner.

“How, I thought you were dead,” you whispered, not sure what to feel at the moment. In any other circumstance you would be over the moon to know he was alive, but how were you supposed to feel knowing he was the serial killer you had been anxiously tracking down. Shock, betrayal, anger, sadness, confusion, all of these emotions swirled through your brain like an endless whirlpool, pulling you in deeper and nearly bringing tears to your eyes.

“Everyone did,” San replied, turning away from you to face one of his work benches, “the doctors said it was a miracle, that no one thought I would make it through the night let alone make a full recovery.” You could hear him messing with something, but couldn’t see what it was, struggling to look past his shoulder as he continued talking, “I tried to find you after you know? I thought you were the only one left that cared about me, and yet even you managed to turn your back on me.”

“I always cared about you,” you argued, “that’s why I’m trying to understand why San, why did you do this?” It was at this point that he finally turned to face you, pulling the hood back so you could see him properly. He looked almost the same as you remembered, but there was a cold gaze in his eyes that almost made him feel like a stranger. This wasn’t the warm hearted and cheerful person you used to consider a friend, he was a killer. Despite this, however, you couldn’t help yourself from falling for his familiarity, almost as if you could convince yourself the old San was still in there, somewhere.

“You never realize just how valuable life is until you are inches away from death,” he explained, “the adrenaline and the fight to survive, it almost feels like you are being reborn. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how corrupt the world we live in truly is, because no one really knows how to appreciate the life they are given until it is nearly taken from them. You may not understand it now but trust me my methods will help make the world a better place.”

“You’re killing people because you want them to appreciate life?” you questioned, wondering if he was actually being serious. There was no way a person's mind could be that twisted, right?

“You think I’m a killer?” San asked, not needing a verbal response since your glare was enough confirmation, “that’s where you’re wrong you know. I have not killed anyone, all of my games are survivable as long as the player has the will to fight for it. Those who failed the games basically killed themselves.” You wanted to argue that putting people in these death traps still made him a killer but he cut you off, “Seven people have won so far, seven people who had that will to live and had the chance to be reborn. They understand what it truly means to be alive and now they help me spread my message. You may not understand me now, but I really do hope that you will be the next.”

“So what, am I the next person that gets to be put in one of your death traps then?” you groaned, tugging at your restraints. San pouted a bit but shook his head.

“Your game began the minute you took the case from Detective Kim,” he explained, “you and I always seemed to have an understanding so I had hoped you would pick up on my clues and join without a fight, but you were far too stubborn to listen. Eventually I had to cut my losses so I had my apprentices plant fake evidence to finally get you here, it was the only way.” Your heart dropped a bit at the word apprentices, your mind immediately going back to Seonghwa and how he was the one who brought you here.

“So you’re telling me the whole time,” you trailed off.

“Seonghwa was working for me, yes, Mingi as well, they both survived my games and agreed to help with the cause and when you took over my case I knew I could use them to guide you in the right direction,” San explained. He took a moment to glance at a clock on the wall before sighing and making his way over to you. San rested his hands on the arms of the chair and used them to prop himself up so he was leaning over you, “As much as I have enjoyed our little chat I’m afraid we do not have much time. I really do like you Y/N so I will give you a choice. Join me and together we can help change the world for the better.”

“And if I refuse?” you challenged.

“Well then I guess we’ll have to play a game,” he hummed, leaning away from you, “The second I walk out of this room it will lock and a timer will start. Behind you are two doors, each with a different combination, one door will lead you to the exit, and the other will lead you to me. If you choose to leave then you will be free but you will lose your chance to catch me. If you choose to come after me, then you have a chance to learn the truth at the risk of your freedom. The combinations are hidden in this room and you will have exactly one hour to find them and leave through the door of your choosing, and trust me you don’t want to know what will happen if you run out of time.” San chuckled softly before pulling away and walking behind you, “This is your last chance to accept my offer Y/N, I would hate to lose you like this.” He waited for a moment but when you didn’t respond he sighed, “Very well, let the game begin.” You felt him place something into your hand, which you quickly realized was a key, before the door slammed shut and San was gone.

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It didn’t take you long to unlock yourself, taking a second to rub your wrists as you stood up and made your way cautiously around the room. You did your best to stay calm and not look at the clock as you examined the doors and then looked around for the combinations, which you quickly realized were hidden on his tools. The question was, do you free yourself and turn your back on the case, or do you risk it all and try to go after San. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to just get out of there and not look back, and yet you quickly found yourself moving on autopilot. Before you could really process what you were doing, you had entered the code for the door labeled “Truth” and ran through it, stepping into a dark hallway and letting the door lock behind you.

You took a moment to compose yourself before heading forward, placing your hands against the walls to help feel your way through the space. All the doors were locked until you came to one at the very end that was cracked open, revealing what looked to be a makeshift office space, with nothing but a desk and filing cabinet in the room. You poked your head through first, looking around for any sign of life before slowly stepping inside and making your way to the desk, only to gasp as you felt another body pin you to it.

“I knew you would come after me,” San whispered, spinning you around so that you were facing him. Your body was pressed between his and the desk, his arms caging you on either side as your eyes locked.

“I can’t let you get away with this,” you argued, trying to wiggle away from him but San was stronger so he held you in place.

“Come on Doll, you and I both know that’s not why you came after me,” he teased, “maybe it was at first but if that was the case now you would be fighting me harder.” He was right, even if he was stronger you knew you could at least hold your own enough to get him away or subdue him long enough to call for help. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to actually fight him off, struggling against him enough to save your pride but not enough to actually push him off. “So tell me,” San continued, “why did you really come after me, was it because you were curious about my work? Or, was it because deep down you missed me?” Honestly, you weren’t even sure if you knew the answer, your body having reacted before your mind could catch up.

“This isn’t right,” you argued, reaching your hands up to push at his shoulders.

“And yet here we are,” he teased, backing up enough to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him. Your bodies pressed together and your arms instinctually made their way around his neck which made him chuckle. “I always knew you were special, you understood me in a way that no one else ever did. Stay with me, nothing will be able to come between us.” San leaned down until your lips were centimeters apart, his breath tickling your lips with every word. You tried not to give into him, knowing that this was wrong, but you also couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you just from being near him. You had always cared for San when you two were partners, hell there was even a time where you could argue that you did have a crush on him. That was back then however, when he was the sweet and easy going detective that decorated his desk with mini plushies and would whine if you forgot to get him a pastry on your morning coffee runs. This version of San wasn’t like that, even if the allure was still there, he was cold, twisted, and a killer.

“I can’t do this,” you argued, “you’re not the man I once cared about.” You tried to turn your head away from him, but he gripped your chin to force you to look at him.

“Yes I am, behind all of this it is still me and I can prove that to you,” he whispered, “just let me show you.” When you shook your head again he huffed, loosening his grip for a moment before it tightened again, “Fine then, how about another game?”

“I already won your stupid game though!” you challenged.

“Yet you still haven’t learned,” he fought back, “the least you can do is give me a chance to convince you. If you don’t give in then I will go with you to the station and turn myself in, but if I win then you quit being a detective for good and you stay with me.” You gave him a questioning look, at this point more than positive that he had gone insane. However, if playing his dumb games meant putting an end to Jigsaw, then you were more than willing to oblige.

“Alright fine, deal,” you reluctantly agreed. You only had a moment to register Sans smirk before he was pulling you against him again and connecting your lips. One hand stayed pressed against your back to keep you against him, while the other tangled itself in your hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction out of you. The kiss wasn’t rough or forced like you had expected, instead it was gentle and passionate, like he wanted to take his time with you. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours, and you began to slowly melt against his movements. You kissed him back and allowed him to have more control, whining softly against his lips when he tugged a bit harder at your hair. Your own hands trailed down his body, tracing his shoulders and chest for a few moments before daring to go a bit lower. San groaned as he felt you palm him over his robe, tightening his grip on your hair and deepening the kiss as his own hand reached down to grab at your thighs and your ass.

All your resolve melted away at his touch and you found yourself giving into him completely, relishing in the way he invaded your senses. All rationality had left completely, replaced with an unusual desire as San explored your body. As desperate as he was, his touches remained soft and left you craving more whenever he pulled his hand away. San walked you back until you reached the desk, lifting you up enough to sit you on top of it and slotting himself between your thighs as he finally pulled away. You only had a second to catch your breath before you were pushed back slightly and pinned down by your hands. San hovered above you with a knowing smirk, taking a moment to enjoy your flustered expression before leaning down to whisper directly in your ear.

“Looks like I won. Game Over!”

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lxcke · 2 months ago

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@killerlittlerejects: The Master Post

As you all know, I love to sit back and watch things unfold before bringing up an opinion. I don't really talk a lot, but when I do, there's usually something very serious going on. Well, today's the day I air out all that dirty laundry @killerlittlerejects has been desperately trying to keep under wraps. KLR, you've got multiple GROUPS of victims spanning back entire years, and they've all got a lot to say about you, girlie. I know what you did, and I'd love to share with the class your hypocrisy, lies, and long history of bullying.

After hours of research and conversations with your various victims, it's clear you have a pattern:

You catch wind of a target when they say something you don’t like.

Proceed to make it your entire personality for months to years at a time.

Shitpost, stalk, harass, and threaten this target completely out of left field.

Bask in the attention until your victim catches onto what you’re doing.

Get called out and play the perfect little angel victim against all the allegations.

Block block block, ignore, deflect, and/or fandom-hop to the next clean slate.

Repeat.

I don't tread lightly with my words when I tell you that this chick is psychotic. She's been caught stalking, with not two, not three, not four, but SEVEN known alt accounts. My team has had to sit down as a group and block a total of sixteen other related accounts to this person in an attempt to get her and the people associated with her fully off our back, and we're still not sure if that's all of them. Her cyberstalking habit has gotten to the point of police reports being filed on her. Twice.

This chick has pushed people into getting the police involved.

So, for one, harassing someone over something as simple as writing, attempting to stir up a little hate group against one of the biggest Cluster B artists on Tumblr, is scummy and comes off like you are clout farming. You've gone from what I thought was a bad case of keyboard-warrioring to one of the vilest attention whores I've ever been forced to witness beg on this platform.

You thought you could get away with trash-talking a man who has openly stated he has a disorder that affects how he communicates, who has openly said he uses his art as a coping mechanism, and who has openly made it clear he creates for those without a voice in the ASPD community. To me, and to many others, it looks like textbook middle-school bullying. You clocked him as an easy target, someone you thought you could overpower, banking on him either staying silent or slipping up just enough to hand you more ammo.

You thought. Bitch.

I've made other posts about this. Much more civil posts. Much more genuine attempts to connect and level with you, but you're just not getting the hint. There are way more people than you know of who will defend this good man with everything they have because he has done them nothing but kindness. You want to sit here and police everything Anton does when you don't even know him, nor have made efforts to, all because you need a punching bag. Every time he so much as breathes wrong, you got something to say, and I'm so fucking over it.

It’s honestly pathetic how you refused to just block the guy like a normal person. Instead, you lurk like some bargain-bin PI, desperate to dig up more dirt to whine about. It’s also incredibly suspicious to me that both Anton’s and my accounts went under a mass report review out of nowhere after nothing but complete normalcy, and not even twelve hours later, you're back at it after MONTHS of supposed radio silence on our end. I genuinely thought we were good up until now. You don’t “get dragged into drama” like you love to bitch about, you light the match and dive headfirst into the gasoline, then cry that it burns. You’ve spent every waking moment trying to paint yourself as some pure little victim while you stir shit behind the scenes. Now that the truth's out? You're flailing and mass-blocking like that’s going to save you. It's always your move: deny, deflect, block, repeat, a predictable little meltdown from someone who thought they’d never get called out by more than just those involved in your little game.

I’m not gonna name names, dox, threaten, or send people after you, because I’m not like you. I was nice to you, dude, but I’m not going to continue and let my team grovel at you and your circle’s feet and beg for forgiveness. These kinds of serious accusations from troves and troves of people, especially since their stories all line up with ours, really makes me wonder…

Anton hasn’t done shit to you or anyone else, and frankly, I’m fed up with your bitch ass tone, instigating other creators in the fandom to come up with insane rumors and accusations, and acting like you know the motherfucker’s “dark secrets” when all of you and your flying monkeys are completely clueless. None of you want to take any of the WOMEN in his circle seriously, blatantly ignoring what we’ve all had to say in favor of your self-righteous circle jerk. I’m not an angry person. I don’t normally do this. I’ve never even been involved with internet drama like this in my entire internet career, but you. You’re on a lot of people’s shitlist. YOU KINDS OF PEOPLE ARE THE REASON I LEFT THE FANDOM YEARS AGO. This is nothing new to me!

So, let me just… go through some of the shit you’ve been spewing here.

Everything you’ve posted reads like a tantrum wrapped in fake concern?? If you’re “scared” to post and need to open with a “no harassment” disclaimer, it’s obviously just drama you’re trying to dress up as activism. You complain Anton makes people “walk on eggshells,” but really, he just has standards and refuses to turn his project into your Tumblr fanfic fantasy land. You want to sit there and claim “oh that’s not the case and they’re bad boys!!!” but then get pissed when they become too disturbing for your taste. You’re mad that he actually has a backbone, not that he's some fandom dictator. Claiming he “shames” anything that doesn’t fit his vision? Of course he does… it’s HIS project. It’s HIS blog. It’s HIS space, and you are actively stepping into his online space and then crying about it??

Anton isn’t responsible for memorizing every bad Wattpad rewrite you cling to like scripture. Calling him a hypocrite for using shock value when he’s actually writing horror and not some pity party is insane; using shock to unsettle is what real horror authors do. You just can’t tell the difference because your taste was formed by creepypasta TikToks and 2010 dance AMVs. You even admit the fandom was never realistic, yet you’re mad that Anton had the audacity to actually do something different with it.

Anton didn’t “mistype” to cover his ass, he had to clarify because people like you twist everything into a federal crime scene the second you get confused. You think pointing out that he criticizes other Jeffs is a gotcha…? No, he critiques, that’s allowed. We all know that and we’re not fucking stupid, bitch. What YOU are doing is attempting to destroy Anton’s name with baseless but HUGE accusations getting stirred up on your blog. None of us EVER tried to do this kind of shit to you. Now the cat’s out of the bag because you just couldn’t leave us alone.

As for the Leech and Tyrant situation: he's writing a toxic dynamic on purpose to show how evil it is, not to endorse it. If you can't handle seeing morally bad characters doing bad things without thinking it’s an endorsement, you’re not fit to be talking shit. And accusing someone of guilt just because they edited a post is the dumbest middle school logic imaginable. You’re not exposing anything real here. You’re just pissed that Blessed Be the Wicked isn’t the fandom-safe, pastel-coated story you wanted. You didn’t "catch" Anton, you exposed yourself as someone too lazy to engage with actual horror storytelling and too entitled to realize you aren’t owed anything.

You have never bothered to investigate further into Blessed Be The Wicked’s messages. Your "criticism" about how "violence isn't maturity" is laughable, no shit, but Anton isn't just throwing gore around for shock, he’s showing broken characters being broken, which is leagues more thoughtful than pretending Jeff just needed a hug. You ramble about feminism like it has anything to do with Anton's work when it doesn't. And your complaints about “spite” and “hatred” are projection at its finest, dude, you are the one bashing Anton publicly. Anton talks about the fandom, his takes, and his arts. You encourage people to call him an incest supporter, a creep, and a misogynist. In the end, you admit you don’t know anything about his actual story. You tuned out, you didn’t engage, and you decided your shallow personal grudge mattered more than facts. That’s not critique, bitch, that’s straight selfism.

Look at Terrifyer 2. Look at Hostel. Look at literally any fucking horror movie. Anton’s level of gore/sexuality in his work is like a goddamn tea party. You’re acting like a fucking baby. You admit you were emotionally unstable when you wrote your original hit piece (no surprise there), but you still cling to your outrage like a little fucking kid. You’re mad because in early drafts, two characters were written to be the same person (not literal twins,) or mentor-apprentice, and in later drafts they were rewritten, as if that’s some cardinal sin in storytelling. You PURPOSEFULLY took that literally to cause shit.

Rewriting and evolving relationships is called developing a story, not "one-upping yourself." Then you reach for the laziest grenade you could find. "It’s misogyny!!!! Look guys it’s misogyny!!!! It’s bad!!!" As if screaming misogyny without evidence somehow makes your whining valid. You tried the "healing art isn’t for the internet" take, which is such a bad-faith, selfish argument it’s practically villainous. Anton sharing art he worked through trauma with doesn’t obligate him to babysit your feelings. I’m sure we can all agree that we hold art close to our hearts in one way or another and want to share that. Your grand finale on one of these latest posts is calling yourself an "ignorant cunt" like it’s a badge of honor. Fine. Self-awareness is the first step to recovery. Stay there.

The guilt-tripping lately is Olympic-level. Someone from her asks apologized for accidentally fanning the flames, and KLR practically threw a pity party. She claims it’s "not their fault," but immediately shifts to passive-aggressively blaming us for daring to defend ourselves, because how dare people try to keep an innocent man’s name clean? Then she acts like a martyr, whining about being "singled out," even though she was the one who reignited an old drama with a new post. Actions, consequences. Not a hard concept dude, come on. She says she’s "upset it escalated," like she’s just an innocent bystander, when she chose to publish drama-bait and knew exactly what kind of response it would get. You’re not a victim of some grand scheme; you're just messy, and now the mess splattered back on you.

After stirring the pot until it boiled over, KLR pulled this AWESOME classic internet martyr move: announcing a dramatic "signing off" like she’s some war hero going into exile. She cries that blocking people somehow wasn’t enough (because her victims have to silence themselves just to make her comfortable). She insists she’s “safe” and “not self-harming,” fishing for sympathy, doing that bullshit manipulative undertone of accusation that we’re threatening her SAFETY??? while conveniently ignoring that her side started the harassment, ableism, and dogpiling over personality disorders. “I’m not suicidal guys!!!” Motherfucker, nobody said ANYTHING about coming over to hurt you. You’re projecting.

Then, just like clockwork, she wraps it all in a syrupy "you are loved, have fun, be creative" speech, because nothing says emotional manipulation like trying to look wholesome right after turning a fandom into a battleground. If she wanted things to calm down, she could've stopped months ago. But no, she kept kicking the hornet’s nest and now wants a parade for "stepping away." The Oscar is in the mail.

So, let’s look at the receipt here:

Saw Anton’s views she didn’t like → obsessed over them.

Months of “poking the bear,” shitposts, stirring the pot, supposedly dropping vague DMs from alts, keyboard warrior shit.

Ramped up the disinformation campaigns and ableism when she didn’t get the attention she wanted

Played "truth-teller" while getting ego boosts from followers.

Anton’s defenders decided to FINALLY clap back after finally getting sick of it.

Immediately switched to "I’m scared 😭 I did nothing wrong!!" mode.

Blocked critics, played dead online. Prepping for a comeback in a different fandom probably as we speak.

Yup, that checks out. She’s textbook. Not "misunderstood." Not "scared." Not "traumatized into lashing out." She's a professional abuser LARPing as a martyr and I am not about to sit here and let her continue to abuse not only my lover, my friends, and myself, but the fandom I grew up in and hold dear.

I’ve got THIRTEEN individual people in my inbox telling me all about you, and I’m so happy to know that it’s not us, it’s you. Fuck you.

Sincerely,

Locke

#you and the people who have been influence by you have been terrorizing my friends and family for too damn long #i hope you stay gone for good because nobody wants you here #youre a known abuser and a known psycho and i dont want you anywhere near my loved ones #were not continuing drama for fun or for malice dude we're just getting the fucking facts straight and you don't like it #locke speaks 🗣️#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #slenderverse #cluster b #aspd #npd #bpd #cw ableism #cw drama #killer little rejects #anton morrow #bbtw #blessed be the wicked

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ask-good-cop-bad-cop · 1 year ago

Note

Please write about the Bricksburg Fun Fair.

It had been such a fun week. Good Cop was sad it was nearly over now. Getting challenged to many of the various fair games by the visiting kids and teens had been a blast- even if Bad ended up getting banned from the shooting range games. Good still couldn't help but snicker at the memory of how put out he was by that. He was just too good at them.

At least he'd made up for it by giving the kids the prizes he'd won. Good didn't care what anyone else said, Bad really was such a softie at heart.

He wandered the fair grounds, tuning out the auctioneer's rambling. They would be doing their big raffle afterwards, and Good hadn't been able to resist buying a ticket. They probably wouldn't win anything- he'd seen the collection bowl, full to the brim after people had been buying tickets all week. A dollar wasn't too much to ask for a small chance of going home with something, though.

Especially considering he'd already spent entirely too much buying a plethora of handmade trinkets and other odds and ends from various crafters. "More junk to take up space in our apartment." Bad had grumbled at him, but hadn't stopped him.

"Well shit. It really IS you."

Good blinked and turned around to find the owner of the voice. He wasn't entirely certain, but it sounded like that had been directed at him. His expression fell in dismay when he recognized who was speaking to him.

"'Friendship Ambassador', huh? That's a hoot, given how the only friend YOU could make was an imaginary one."

"Brent." Good Cop sighed. The same jerk who had nearly broken Bad's nose when they were kids. Bad stirred in the back of their mind, grumbling his annoyance at being called an "imaginary friend". "We're a bit old for this nonsense, aren't we?"

"What, afraid of getting your nose broken again?"

"Of course not. You didn't manage it last time, I doubt you would this time either."

"Why you little-"

"Good let me at him-" Bad tried to wrestle control from him.

Good simply leaned out of the way of the punch thrown at him. "Don't worry, I've got this." He assured. He dodged another punch, then swept a foot out to trip Brent. The other man fell and hit the ground hard. "Shall I report you for assaulting a police officer?" Good asked cheerfully. Brent turned to stare at him in shock. "Yeah, you heard that right. I'm not an 'easy target' anymore. Now you can move along and mind your manners, or I can take you to the security tent and deal with you there."

Brent glowered at him for a moment, then got back to his feet and dusted himself off before wandering off. Bad burst into laughter as they watched him slink away.

"Proud of you." He managed to get out between giggles. Good smiled brightly.

They ended up winning the grand prize that night.

#lore #fiction

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talesfrommedinastation · 2 years ago

Text

My Neighbor Doug on different locations in 'The Bad Batch'

So I did as was requested by my poll, and asked Doug what he called (and thought of) the various different places in which 'The Bad Batch' took place.

Need refreshers? Doug's interpretations of The Bad Batch: Main Characters

Doug's interpretations of The Bad Batch: Side Characters

Here we go:

--------------------------------------------------

Tipoca City: The Mall on the Ocean. You know it either smells really nice, clean and like fresh perfume, or it smells like ass and balls. It’s duty free, of course. Daddy Warcrimes totally plows the liquor section when Ryan-from-Accounting won’t stop annoying him and Daddy Rambo sprays on the sample Sauvage cologne to get the ladies.

("I thought he was married?"

"He need the reassurance. Y'all know guys like him.")

Onderon: Damn-It-Jared’s Trailer Park. It’s where he and his goofy-assed hippie friends fire weapons and drop acid and scare the wildlife. It’s like Oregon, but stupid. Just like Damn-It-Jared. And Daddy Warcrimes comes down and murders civilians, because the man craves police brutality the way I crave a drink after watching the Saints lose.

Saleucami: Tremor-Land. Look at this place and tell me you ain’t expecting giant worms and Kevin Bacon to pop out of nowhere. Also, Not-Wolverine’s wife gives me Reba McEntire vibes, trust me. They seem like a fun couple, I’d love to drink beer and shoot guns with them on a Sunday.

(Cut and Suu = Not Wolverine and Not Wolverine's wife)

Pantora: Not-Quite-Austin. Its where young hot people go to get drunk, get into street fights and then leave. You know, where That Chick That’s in Everything gets into a motorcycle race with Daddy Rambo and then they look for the Gun Safety Muppet and Little Orphan Blondie is lost and I guess they sell Toaster Strudel at one point to the three eyed goat for cash?*

Meat Muffin, what in the hell did I just write?

Corellia: Where-Anakin-Lost-His-Legs and Jorge’s Unemployed Sisters are collecting scrap metal for cash.

(“This is not where Anakin lost his legs!”

“How do you know?”

“ I watched Episode III?! Did you?”

“Eh, they’ll update it, just watch.”)

(FYI, I wish Trace Martez and Tech had more scenes together. They would have been a cute nerdy couple)

Bracca: Planet Dump. Seriously, there’s a planet devoted to garbage. Is it New Jersey? It’s just creepy people floating around trash? Man, it’s like Thor Ragnorok, but sad. Think Valkyrie would show up at some point? Julio had a headache here and strangled someone, I get it, migraines ain’t fun.

Ord Mantell: Great Value Cyberpunk. Do humans even live here? Well, Houma BBQ bitch and her ugly clutch of mutant boyfriends do. Her bar totally looks like someone practices eye surgery in the back like in Minority Report.

Raxus: Space Country Club. Oh, this place nice and clean. I mean, dang, it looks like a gated community where everyone plays golf and is mean to their neighbors. I bet they have an amazing Christmas lights display but don’t allow ‘riff-raff’ to come in and bully anyone who doesn’t join their HOA. My sister’s in one outside of Miami, and it turned her into a bitch, trust me.

Daro: Not-Quite-Fort-Bliss. I don’t get this place. It’s where Manny’s hanging out with other army guys but they don’t like him, even though he’s a good soldier? What the hell, the Empire is run by mid-level corporate dumbasses who think their online MBA makes them a god.

::proceeds to go on a rant about MBA Rob, his nephew, and the clowns like them::

Safa Toma: Tank Girl’s Home. It’s like Tatooine but fun and crazy. It’s where the Rhino that Sells Used Buicks and his pet iguana live and force people to race in used car parts.**.

Pabu: Space Daytona. It’s nice, it’s pretty, but I kept thinking the Empire was going to nuke it at some point. Hey, Church Lady says it’s her home away from home…where’s her other home? New Orleans? Shit, that’s a thought.

Eriadu: Space New Hampshire. It’s foggy, got mountains, and filled with angry old white people who can’t seem to retire. You know Tarkin totally screams at waiters and lives to make the poor check out girls at Publix cry. Just like his bitchy daughter, Stepsister Beth.

(Doug now headcanons that Tarkin is Emerie’s dad…which makes zero sense, but whatever.)

Ryloth: Space Arizona. Everything seems rich and nice and the women are vaguely hot, cool canyons and mountains and whatnot. But then dig a little bit and everyone’s rat-in-a-shithouse insane and there’s guns everywhere. I like Hera and her daddy, he’s cool. Like him riding his space motorcycle and flinging that spear at folks, more of him please.

Weyland: Spooky Lab Land. It’s where Stepsister Beth and Ryan-from-Accounting have family reunions with her asshole dad, his bitch wife Laura, and the gang. They’re into science and not making eye contact with anyone because there’s shit in the lava lamps that might be humans.

Serrano: Space Coeur d’Alene. It’s got pine trees and mountains, real pretty, but it’s easy to fling trash and bodies everywhere and every other person is Doomsday prepping. You ever been to Idaho? Real pretty, but real off, ya know?

*= I was struggling to breath after this. What in 'The Witch' was he thinking?!

**= Millegi and his racer. I had to stop texting Doug for a bit at this point, I was cry-laughing so hard I couldn’t see.

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your-divine-ribs · 1 year ago

Text

Ice Cold Part 4

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: the story is getting dark 🫣 There’s a pretty gory murder, threat and Lyla is in serious trouble, Van is sexy even though he’s murderous… idk why villains are so hot I don’t make the rules 💙

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Well I think you should tell Paul about Jason harassing you. He's been doing it since day one. He gives me the fucking creeps."

Jen visibly shuddered to prove her point, and we both looked across the crowded airport to see Jason making his way over, dragging his suitcase behind him. He came to a stop in front of us both, smiling, but I detected a slight smirk when his eyes raked over me.

"Ladies..." he addressed us both. "This visit will definitely be a little different to the last time I visited the Dam."

He mimed smoking a spliff and I rolled my eyes. "Don't even think about it. We've all got to keep clear heads. There's lives at stake here."

Jason opened his mouth to speak but at that point we were beckoned to the desk to check in.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I got my boarding pass and I was seated next to Jen. The thought of Jason leering over me for the duration of the flight was unbearable. I'd questioned Paul's decision to include him on the assignment but I'd been overruled.

Jen was probably right. Jason had acted inappropriately towards me since he'd taken the job two years ago and he was steadily getting worse. He was your typical entitled, misogynistic piece of shit who thought that a women's place was in the kitchen or the bedroom. I'd thought at first he'd taken a dislike to me because he hated to see a woman doing well in what he termed a 'man's job', but it had soon become apparent that his disdain ran deeper than that. He'd definitely singled me out. That much had become obvious when he'd pressed me up against the wall at the works Christmas party and snaked his hand up my skirt, telling me that I needed a 'good fucking by a real man' to bring me down a peg or two. What he hadn't counted on was my fiery temperament, and a swift knee to his groin had left him limping away with more than just a bruised ego. But rather than this putting him off it only made things worse.

In this day and age women shouldn't stand for harassment at work, and I should have really reported him, but there was something about the thought of doing it that made me feel weak. I never asked for help. I liked to sort out my own shit, fight my own battles. Jason just wasn't a priority at the moment.

"Is that the case file?" I said, reaching over for the folder I saw poking out of Jen's hand luggage.

She nodded. "Just be careful looking at that on here. Some of those crime scene photos are fucking horrendous. I almost lost my lunch looking at them yesterday."

Jen was right. The police had been called to an apartment in London the day before as neighbours were complaining about a smell. They'd uncovered a body so badly disfigured that they couldn't even tell the identity by dental records. The teeth had been removed, along with various other body parts.

"Fuck..." I breathed, my chest feeling tight.

"He'd been dead for over a week but they reckon he was probably kept alive for two days whilst he was being interrogated and tortured. Poor bastard..."

"Yeah, well... it couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke," I said, shrugging, trying not to show my horror.

"Lyla! No one deserves this. Not even this nasty pig. I know he was running with that rival gang involved with trafficking but... damn... can you imagine..."

But Jen's voice had faded out. I'd flicked through the remaining photos and come to a stop on one of Van. It was an old shot, a police mug-shot for some minor misdemeanour before killing had become his career. He looked younger, fresh-faced, a shadow of innocence still about him which had surely been eroded over the years.

"Bloody hell!" Jen exclaimed, leaning over for a closer look. "You wouldn't think he was the same person."

"I wonder what happened to him..." I murmured, pulling out a more recent photo.

There was no softness here, he was all sharp edges with a brooding darkness that set my pulse racing. His eyes blue fathomless pools. It was like looking into a void. Ice cold.

Jen reached over, plucking the photo out of my hands to peer at it closely.

"Jesus... those eyes... it's like looking at the devil himself..."

Our hotel was situated slap-bang in the middle of the city. It was late by the time we all piled out of the taxi with our luggage and we wound our way through the streets that were heaving with tourists and late-night revellers.

A large group of young girls stumbled past us all, scantily clad and obviously celebrating their friend's upcoming nuptials. One dressed in a figure-hugging tiny white dress and a huge veil decorated with L plates tottered drunkenly into Jason's path.

"I'm so sorry," she slurred, righting herself by grasping on to the lapels of his shirt.

I noticed Jason's hands shoot out to steady her, but then remain on her hips as she swayed unsteadily in front of him. "Woah, steady on love!"

"Ooh you're a handsome one!" She giggled, fluttering her eyelashes at him, ignoring her friends who were calling to her.

There was an awkward moment where the girl eventually tried to peel herself away from Jason's grasp and he held on tight, then I noted his hand slide down to grope her bum as she finally stumbled away, still giggling.

"For fucks sake Jason!" Jen cried, and he just looked at her as if to say 'what's your problem?'

"She was well up for it!" He protested, then as I pushed past him he leant forward to whisper in my ear.

"You can always tell the ones that are... even if they won't admit it..."

I shot him a poisonous glare.

The orders we'd been given were to check in at the hotel and await further instructions. A senior government official with a penchant for certain illegal sexual fetishes was scheduled to visit the Dutch capital. What he didn't realise was that whilst he was pursuing a hedonistic weekend fulfilling his darkest desires, he was being stalked by a deadly assailant.

To be honest, reading the files I sometimes fancied whether Van was almost doing some kind of service, ridding the world of yet another corrupt person in power. It seemed to me that the further you rose up through the ranks of society the less morals seem to matter. It was like some of these people thought they were untouchable. I'd even go so far as to say that some of them deserved everything that they got...

But of course there were the innocents too. That was the problem. Every gangster or corrupt politician who lost their life left behind families. Grieving wives and husbands... and children too. I knew that pain all too well.

I set my suitcase down on the bed, shrugging out of my comfy travelling clothes and slipping into a little strappy black dress. I wasn't expecting to hear anything until tomorrow midday at the earliest so me and Jen had arranged to have a few drinks at the hotel bar. I just hoped Jason had made his own plans.

I'd just finished applying some mascara and adding a slick of lipstick when my phone erupted on the bed. I grabbed it, my heart immediately pounding when I saw Paul's name displayed.

"Lyla! There's been another hit!" His voice came urgently down the line and I heard a loud noise like he was striking something in frustration. "That fucker's slipped past us again! It's literally just happened!"

"Just now? Where? Give me the details Paul. Maybe we can track him down."

My heart continued to race as Paul reeled off the details and I grabbed a pen, scrawling down the address on a scrap of paper. "We'll be right there... this is literally only streets away I'm sure of it."

"Lyla... wait!"

I'd just been about to end the call when Paul's desperate tone rang out. I pressed the phone to my ear again, impatient to get going but knowing I had to hear my boss out.

"I don't like this. There's something off about it. Usually McCann will slip in and out like a shadow. This has happened in the middle of a busy fucking nightclub. Either he's getting sloppy or it's something else. Its almost like he wants us to take notice... like he's taunting us..."

I tried to ignore the uneasiness that came with this comment. Tried to turn it into something else that I could use. A steely kind of determination that I wouldn't crumble if I came face to face with Van again. I couldn't afford to. Not after his warning.

"Be careful... please," came Paul's plea before I ended the call, slipping on my gun holster and jacket and rushing to alert Jason and Jen.

The Red Club was situated right in the heart of the Red Light District, flanked on either side by the sort of establishments that promised various sordid pleasures in exchange for cold, hard cash. Amsterdam was like that. Unapologetically mixing the sleazy side of the city with every day normality. The brothels and sex shops as much tourist attractions as anything else.

There was a heavy police presence outside the club and a huge crowd was gathered there. I could see police officers urging bystanders to disperse, and as we got closer I could hear shouts and screams. A young girl was on the floor sobbing uncontrollably. The three of us pushed our way through, Jason flashing his ID at the police officers.

"This way... I'll show you where it happened..." A stern looking police officer pointed towards the venue entrance.

I glanced down as I walked forward, taking in the hunched figure of the crying girl on the floor. She looked up at me as I passed, her face contorted in anguish, blood spattered across the pale dress that she barely wore. She looked no more than 14 and that was being generous. What the hell had she been doing in a nightclub? My gut clenched with anxiety at the sight of the blood.

We were led through a dark entry way into a large room. Deafening dance music was still blaring out through the speakers and the room was dark apart from the coloured strobe lights which flashed incessantly, blinding me.

"Can we get some light in here please?" I shouted over the noise as I walked over to the far side of the room where a small group of people stood over a figure lying on the floor.

"And someone turn off that fucking music!" Jason bellowed.

A stricken looking man in a suit immediately broke away from the group and rushed over to what looked like a DJ booth, ducking inside. The music abruptly cut off and the room was suddenly flooded with harsh fluorescent light.

I stepped forward and the figures gathered parted to let me through, and I looked down, instantly freezing. There was blood... so much blood. The male figure was lying on his back, spreadeagled with his arms outstretched, his dead eyes open and staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. The gash in his neck was so deep his head lolled back at an impossible angle, practically decapitated. The wall nearby was decorated with a thick spatter of arterial blood like some macabre abstract work of art.

"Ahhh fuck..." I heard Jason utter and I glanced down to see him shaking his foot, the tip of his shoe covered in blood.

"Would you mind not contaminating the crime scene," I hissed at him and he gave me a dirty look.

Jen was asking to speak to witnesses and the scared looking man from earlier stepped forward. She led him away from the body and I followed whilst Jason set up a perimeter around the scene.

"I saw it all!" The man announced. "It was a man, he was tall and slim, longish hair. I'd just served him at the bar and he'd ordered a whiskey. He struck me as odd as he just looked... I don't know... out of place. I mean, everyone comes here to have a good time, but not him. He just had this dead-eyed kind of stare about him. Chilled me to the bone it did."

He paused and I felt an involuntary shiver run through me. "Go on... what happened?" I urged.

"It was fucking horrible..." The man started shaking his head, then he screwed his eyes shut, burying his head in his hands.

"Take your time," I heard Jen speak from beside me.

"NO!" My voice came out loud and harsh and the man looked up at me, taken aback. "He's out there... the man that did this. Do you want him to get away? You need to start talking... now!"

"Lyla..." I heard Jen mumble but I ignored her, stepping in front of her.

The man carried on with a shaky voice. "He was standing there, at the edge of the dance floor, just staring across. I went to serve someone and when I looked back he'd moved. So I looked for him. He was behind that guy..." He pointed at the victim.

"He grabbed his hair, like this..." he showed us by grabbing a scruff of his own hair by the crown, lifting it clear of his head. "At first I thought there was a fight so I called to Levi, the security guy, but when I looked back he had this huge knife..."

A look of horror twisted his face and he paused before he carried on, miming a slicing motion across his throat with his finger. "He cut him... and the blood... it sprayed everywhere. And he didn't just slit it... he was fucking sawing at it. You've seen his neck! His head's practically off! And he was fucking smiling for gods sake! Like he was enjoying it! Who is he? This man? Will he be back? He saw me watching! He looked right at me! What if he comes back?"

The poor guy was working himself into a frenzy now. Jen stepped forward trying to calm him, an arm around his shoulder.

"Where did he go?" I said firmly, gripping the man's shoulders and pushing Jen out of the way in the process.

He was past talking now, so traumatised by reliving the incident that he could only babble incoherently. He raised a hand and pointed towards a door over the far side of the room. I didn't think, I just took off, ignoring Jen who called after me.

I crossed the room in a flash and lunged at the handle, slipping through without looking back. I was in a dimly lit service corridor with numerous doors leading off from it. There was what looked like a fire exit at the far end so I made my way quickly towards it, reaching up to feel my gun in the holster under my jacket for reassurance.

All of a sudden without warning the lights went out, plunging the corridor into darkness. I froze, listening for a sound but hearing none. I should go back. I started to retrace my steps but a sound made me stop in my tracks, freezing again. It was a door opening and shutting nearby and then quiet, scuffling footsteps getting progressively louder. Another door opened and shut. I span around, trying to discern the source of the sounds.

Adrenaline started to pump through my veins, preparing me for fight or flight, but how could I fight? I couldn't even see a hand in front of my face.

Run Lyla! Get the fuck out of there! My mind blared, but now I was disoriented and wasn't sure which way to go. There was silence again apart from my ragged breathing. I sounded scared. I was scared.

Stay calm!

I reached out, blindly groping to feel the wall to get my bearings. There it was. Now which way was back? I shuffled, trying not to make a sound but my shin connected with something hard and I yelped in pain.

Fuck! Pull it together Lyla! Just a few more steps and you'll reach the door.

But I never did. I shuffled forward, feeling resistance and reaching out a hand to feel solid warmth. There was a figure blocking my path.

The scream never made it past my lips. It was cut off as a large hand clamped over my mouth, stifling all sound but a desperate, muffled moan. My hands shot up to try and prise the hand away but it was no use. I could feel the heat of a body behind me, shunting me forwards until I felt the wall hit my front, pressing me against it. Then there was another sensation that made me stop struggling in an instant. Cold, sharp steel against my neck, pressing into the delicate skin. My head was immediately flooded with images of the dead man, the wound on his neck gaping like an obscene, bloody jaw. I tensed, uttering a desperate plea in my head, waiting for the blade to bite.

"One sound out of you and I'll fucking slice you from ear to ear. You understand?"

It was Van. Of course it was Van. But why? He should have fled the scene. He could have been miles away by now. But he was here... now... and for what?

He spoke again, his voice full of menace, answering my thoughts. "I've been waiting for you Lyla..."

#ice cold #au fanfic #vanfic

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jc-lambert · 21 days ago

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Kate Lambert

Yeah...

I'm staying as safe as possible. Homos seem to have sort of took the mall for a while. It's so all the homos can make porn and rob the place blind, while also trashing it up.

The 30 second porn I sent to the judge in Clackamas which depicted a negro being raped by two men in a Portland Oregon officers uniform....

included a redheaded man (born in Kansas). He has moved to Wichita and taken to Miss Rusco.

Miss Rusco won't be able to collect a check these days, however she is making money selling her twat while smoking meth with old friends. They're having makeovers and facials and this and that and buying cum for the purpose of artificial insemination as well as wrinkle reduction on their T-zones & Decollete areas. I was recently solicited for my cum to be used for this very purpose.

It's because my class is old now. We are all 45 and everyone still has to pass as 12.

The State of Kansas landing in the middle of the entire national deficit: everyone is reduced to prostitution and must stay looking 12 if they don't want to be butchered & cannibalized as part of the global debt to society. It's due to racewar with Anti-Human tribes. We have taken to having to butcher magical little midgets to stay alive, and protect our own species.

I remain reporting myself kidnapped at all times when near a single Kansan.

All our cops who attended South High, are truly dirty that way. However: wichita is truly in the middle of race and holy war and it's a VooDoo/Vous Do zone.

I need work...

I need money...

I need a pistol...

I need a car...

I need basic equipment and digital resources.

(mostly to enter orbit and anonymously land somewhere west of Petropavlovsk, then drive my own ass to London)

My sister's kids are about to get themselves killed. They owe me about 17 years back rent at a rate of 2,000$ per week.

That's well over a million dollars dear.

Then they have slander lawsuits...

Then they have breach of trust lawsuits...

then they have to have their tongues branded with a branding iron for having not kept my name out of their mouths...

then they need their fingers cut off for having touched my rings and called them their wedding bands while fucking their sisters and reducing them to prostitution while putting them on the streets and demanding foodstamps out of them.

Those kids: are all drug addicted gamblers.

Those kids: are in the company of Cody Dean Casperson (the child drugdealer/pimp of my sister Paula) and cody is just like his father

Who I sort of had raped and killed by gangs in Northern California.

Those people are to never be near me or any other Lambert.

Northern California has well over 1000 Lamberts I am sure you already know...

So I think Im going to report this to Police Chief Owens in Emporia and remind his nigger ass to open his fucking wallet and keep the felony digital transfers flowing otherwise west coast hookers will probably up and kill him, his wife, and children, and sell the bodies to necrophiles and college students. That son of a bitch needs to respect some Vous Wicca do, Jew-Jew, & Gris Gris: especially when discussing money & moona-nie.

Somewhere on my website: there is a link to purchase various narcotics online from a respectable dealer in London.

London these days, is at a loss of the Roman System, Princess Charlotte has presented herself as Caesar.

This means the Islands of England & Ireland are escrowed and held by brokers in France & Italy so use of the English Language can get a person killed, even in England. Either for witchcraft heracy, and abuse of science, or for treason and terrorism.

I would never buy shit off the streets or smoke the shit provided in a fucking store or off a single english speaker.

Its like the end of the world...

but I am doing well.

Police Chief Owens...

thinks he has jurisdiction over the entire planet.

To do that he must be the right proper KING OF POLAND....

Which would make him just another fucking retarded inbred terrorist pollock from terrorist bullshit Kansas, the kind we get paid by Royal Societies in Europe to fuck and kill.

I am not to touch any form of Western Union.

Would that transfer still be there or was it recalled?

Western Union...

is sort of bad business with this town... its due to Arizona and Howdy Doody lawsuits.

It is a felony for anyone to have a pistol when and where Kiowa Reservation is mentioned.

Because I grew up "On Rez" so to speak here in ICT nobody can or may have a pistol or contact with gunmen while having business with me or while being on my case.

If I purchased a pistol...

I will be escorted out of town or put on a plane elsewhere.

any officer approaching me in Wichita with a firearm...

can be executed for terrorism as it's a breach of peace protocol.

So....

Im going to just get geared up...

and leave.

because people need to be able to have their America.

Me being here just comes at the cost of lives.

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je-suis-problematique · 1 year ago

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Pharo! Let's talk about him.

Pharo Hyperion is one of our many Tavs but we went a bit apeshit with his story so brace yourself for this one. Basically Pharo's origins aren't from Faerûn at all but from a completely different world called Nescan and specifically from the country Canos, city of Corelto. Imagine a world where sci-fi (or even cyberpunk) meets medieval fantasy and that would be it. Fantasy races like elves and drow exist there, as well as magic and other such supernatural occurrences, but also advanced technology, robotics, cybernetics/body augments, various sciences and more. Final Fantasy would be a good comparison but maybe make it more.... dystopian? More like Altered Carbon in vibe. So anyway, Pharo. Pharo is a hired gun from a city called Corelto. Corelto is one of the more futuristic settlements in Canos and it's populated by many races, being a kind of melting pot of a city. Pharo is human, and while there is a considerably strong human presence in Corelto, they aren't always in charge and there are places where humans are even completely unwelcomed. Yes, racism is alive and well in Corelto and the many races populating it don't always get along.

Pharo was born in the countryside on a ranch belonging to his parents. He grew up living a simple yet difficult life, since his father was abusive towards him and his mom, and without going into too much detail, Pharo ended up killing his dad once he was old enough to know his way around firearms. He and his mom sold the ranch and moved to Corelto after that.

Getting used to all the advanced technology and the crowded streets took the two of them some time but after settling in a generally okay flat in a generally okay part of the city, each of them managed to find employment – Pharo started working as a mechanic assistant, his mom as a cleaner in a fancy office building belonging to the leading company in the body augmentation field, MetaTech. Life was quiet for a while, with both Pharo and his mom slowly recovering from the abuse that was inflicted on them. Pharo didn't have many friends if any at all but he was okay with that. Then, after witnessing enough violence and crime around the city and wanting to make a difference, Pharo joined the police. But his career as a police officer ended around the time he was.... properly introduced to the serial killer Tarantino.

Tarantino was a serial killer everyone was struggling to catch for many, many years. He was an obscenely powerful mage whose MO could be compared to that of John Kramer from the Saw movies, in the sense that he would kidnap his victims and place them in carefully engineered traps to play his game. Only John Kramer, as sick as he was, would always try to send some sort of message to his victims with his traps. Tarantino, on the other hand, simply liked torturing people. He was wanted internationally and nobody ever managed to catch him. His victims were seemingly chosen at random and ranged from children to adults, rich and poor. Both men and women were taken. None survived. Pharo already heard of this guy during his days in the police academy, and he was almost a boogeyman story around the station. Pharo was curious about Tarantino but knew it was above his paygrade to do anything about him.... Until his mom was taken.

One day, Pharo's mom didn't return home from an errand she went to run in the city. Pharo was only mildly concerned at first but started panicking when he found a letter left for him in his home. That letter was from Tarantino, and it was the first in a series of little crumbs Tarantino left for Pharo to follow in order to find his mom and save her. Pharo knew that if he'd report it then he would be forced to leave this investigation to the higher ups and step aside for them to do their work, so he didn't say shit, and decided to play Tarantino's game. Needless to say he lost it. All Tarantino really wanted was for Pharo to bear witness to his mom's gruesome death – he wanted an audience, so he gave Pharo false hopes and led him to his mom's final resting place so he could see her get tortured and killed, without being able to actually do anything to stop it. Pharo quit the police force after that, and Tarantino became his obsession.

Pharo sunk into a deep depression following the loss of his mom and started mingling with the wrong sort, getting more and more involved in the violent criminal underbelly of Corelto (picture Zaun, from League of Legends/Arcane). As a former cop he was treated with hostility almost everywhere he went and he played into that, letting his emotions go and fighting practically anyone who looked at him wrong, until someone approached him and offered him a job. That someone was Tiberius, a retired monster hunter from rural Canos. Tiberius became a sort of mentor for Pharo, guiding his anger and violence towards specific targets instead of just lashing out at everyone, and one of Pharo's first real targets was a vampire lord named Moldark. Killing that vampire lord was how Pharo met Lazarus, a vampire spawn drow priest and artificer.

The clergy in Nescan are divided into ceremonial and combat units. The ceremonial clergy are the ones you'd see overseeing weddings and funerals, mass, and other calm, non-combat events. The combat clergy are basically paladins with guns. Depending on where in Nescan you are, the paladins could be wielding anything from greatswords to assault rifles or even a combination of both. Lazarus was a combat priest artificer, so he built and upkept ammo and firearms before Moldark snatched him up. Pharo freed him, and Lazarus insisted on sticking around to help Pharo on his future missions as thanks. Pharo reluctantly agreed (mostly because Lazarus was very stubborn) and shared with him that his real goal is to catch and kill Tarantino someday. Over the years the two of them became extremely close friends.

Up until the events of the game Pharo lived his life as a merc in and around Corelto while tracking Tarantino's movements with Lazarus' and Tiberius' help. Tarantino had the ability to travel between planes/worlds at will whenever he wanted so tracking him was a tedious job that required a lot of effort but the trio were beginning to be able to predict when and where Tarantino would appear next. They had no way of knowing WHO Tarantino would take as his next victim but they had a mostly adequate tracking system in place that allowed Pharo to plan out his big confrontation with the killer. On that day Pharo took Tarantino by surprise, which was already impressive on its own, but he didn't manage to inflict much damage on the mage because after a lot of taunting and mind-fuckery Tarantino just threw Pharo into a completely different world to get rid of him: Faerûn.

The events of the game are known to you. Next thing Pharo knows he wakes up on the Nautiloid after he's been infected with a mind flayer parasite without any of his familiar gear and without knowing where it was Tarantino sent him or how to get back home. Lazarus eventually figures out a way to follow Pharo into Faerûn with Tiberius' help and finds him there, joining Pharo's camp. He originally came there with a device that could portal Pharo back to Nescan but they had to put that to the side until after Pharo deals with the parasite and the Elder Brain. Pharo doesn't become romantically involved with any of the companions but rather with Rolan (while Lazarus ends up with Astarion), and it is still unclear to us whether Pharo chose to stay in Faerûn long-term for his partner or if he took Rolan and his siblings with him back to Nescan.

Anyway this is everything we have so far, I hope it's not too cringe.

#pharo #tarantino #tiberius #lazarus #tav #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #our writing

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strangerficsx · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter Two | Vecna's Curse

story: Midnight Rain wc: 3,906

(a/n: all characters, plot, etc. are not mine. The only thing I own is my original character. credit to gif owner.)

{ March 22, 1986 }

The next morning rolled around and Jennifer stayed laying in her bed, eyeing the uniform on her chair across the room. She needed this day off from the events she witnessed the night before, but with her missing too much work, she decided to push through. Jennifer slides out of her bed, standing as she wears only an oversized shirt and short shorts.

Trying to distract her horrid thoughts, Jennifer throws on some clothes and her green vest as she attaches her name tag before walking out of her bedroom, standing by the counter. Hesitant leaving, she grabs the remote off the table as her mother enters the living room. Jennifer turns the television on as a female news anchor stands in front of Eddie's trailer. Her eyes widen, taking a step as the television brings her toward her chair, sitting and watching closely.

"We're in the Forest Hills trailer part in east Roane County. We don't have a lot of details now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins high student was discovered early this morning. Police have not released the name..."

"Oh shit," You murmur, knowing who it is. "Chrissy."

"...Although we are told they're currently in the process of notifying the family."

With a sudden thought, she thinks about Robin and Steve as they are at Family Video probably watching the same thing. Jennifer knew they were possibly worried about your whereabouts, and if you are the deceased victim.

Author's point of view.

Earlier.

Robin holds a double VHS tape of Doctor Zhivago.

"Ugh." Steve groans, arms folded. "You know I don't do double VHS."

He walks toward the cart, putting more tapes on the shelf in front of him.

"But it's about doomed love." Robin comments.

"Oh, well, that's relatable."

"Precisely,"

Robin grabs another VHS tape and stalks toward the opposite side of the store, Steve behind her with the cart.

"Also, Julie Christie is b-b-bonkers hot in this."

She steps behind the counter, grabbing the television remote. "Like, seriously, the most beautiful creature I have seen in my life."

The television flicks on, a female news reporter stands in front of a trailer. Various types of people (likely from the area) are crowded around the small building. Steve steps beside Robin to watch as well. Both have their brows furrowed.

"Holy shit." Steve curses, stepping away, panicked.

"What?"

"Jennifer. What if it's Jennifer, Robin? She can't be dead."

"She is always with that guy named Eddie, so..." She trails off.

"Robin." Steve begins. "I don't care. I'm calling Jennifer to make sure she's okay. I want to make sure she is alright, because I can't... I can't lose her."

"I think you still have feelings for Jennifer Henderson,"

"N-No," He stammers, walking towards the phone dialing her number. "I do not. I'm calling her as a worried... friend."

Jennifer's point of view.

Jennifer sits there as her mother and Dustin are seated on the couch beside her, worried. Their pet cat meows lightly, purring loudly. She looks over at her brother, needing to tell him what happened as guilt and anger floods her system.

"My heart can't take it anymore. It just can't take it." Claudia sorrowfully speaks.

Suddenly the telephone rings as the three family members whip their heads around. Jennifer rises, answering it swiftly.

"Hello, this is the Henderson's. Jennifer speaking."

"Jennifer? Thank God. Are you okay? Have you seen the news?"

"Steve, calm down. I'm fine. I've been at my house since last night. And yes, I saw the news. Did you... Did you see the news, too?" She asks, nervously.

"Yeah, I did. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, that's all. And are you coming in for your shift? Robin's asking."

"Yes, I'm coming in at some point today... Maybe. And, Steve, I'm okay, I promise."

Jennifer stood there, calm as she heard Steve's voice. Her heart skips a beat right when the doorbell rings abruptly, looking up and watches her brother rise to answer it. Max steps in with an earnest glance.

"Gotta go. Max is here for some reason. Bye."

Jennifer hangs up before Steve could get another word out, walking towards Max and her younger brother. The three enter Dustin's bedroom, standing. Her younger brother paces the room.

"Chrissy Cunningham? You're sure it was Chrissy?"

"Yes, in her cheerleader outfit. Same thing she was in when I saw her with Eddie."

"Did you tell all this to the cops?"

"No," Max stammers. "No, but I... I can't be the only one who saw them together. They stood out."

"Eddie the freak with Chrissy the Cheerleader?"

Jennifer clears her throat, gaining the attention of Max and Dustin.

"I was there too. I saw what happened first hand. Her body... it just... it was deformed. Snapping. Oh, God. It was horrible. But I took off as fast as I could, so I wouldn't get caught. And, Eddie was speeding away in his van before I could ask for a ride home. I was hoping to have alone time with him, but he brought along Chrissy."

"I didn't know you and Eddie were a thing." Max added.

Dustin chortles excitedly, grinning ear to ear.

"You're dating him?" He compliments.

"No, we may... have a thing for each other."

"Anyway," Max started. "Exactly. You know, his name's not in the news yet or anything, but I guarantee you Eddie, and you Jennifer are suspects one and two now."

"That's crazy."

"He wouldn't do this. I was there. I saw what happened."

"Eddie and Jennifer didn't do this. No way. No way."

"We can't rule it out."

"Yes, we can," The henderson siblings say in unison.

"Dustin!"

"You don't know him like I or Jennifer do, Max. Okay?"

Max rolls her eyes, annoyed. Dustin begins talking on and on, bickering with the red head. He plops on the bed, sighing. He leans against his legs, fingers clasped together.

"Why haven't you told this to the police?"

"I don't... I don't know."

"You don't know, Max?"

The younger female stands there, arms crossed and silent. She sighs before walking towards Dustin's bed, taking a seat. Jennifer steps closer, leaning herself against her hand, which sits against her brother's headboard.

"After I saw Eddie and Chrissy go in the trailer, something else happened."

"The lights began flickering," Jennifer adds. "I saw him leave too, Max."

"Nothing that weird or anything. I mean, Eddie always drives like a maniac, and the power goes off at my place all the time. It's a piece of shit. But... This morning, I started thinking back, and... I don't know. The look on his face. He was scared, Dustin. Really scared. Maybe he was scared because, he... he just killed someone--"

"Not true, Max."

"OK. Or... maybe, um... maybe because. I don't... I don't know, maybe..."

"Something else killed her."

Dustin and Max crane their necks to look up at Jennifer, who stands above them nods.

"But that's impossible. Right?"

"I don't know. It should be." Jennifer says.

"The other person who knows what happened is... Eddie. He was there with me when this happened."

Dustin rises, grabbing his backpack as Max does the same. Jennifer leads them out of the bedroom.

"Did you tell anyone else?"

"No. I can't find Lucas or Nancy, and Mike's in--"

"California. Shit, shit, shit."

Jennifer swipes her keys off the counter, grabbing the doorknob as the two kids follow behind.

"Where you going?"

"I'm taking them with me... to work."

"You guys heard the news. It's not safe."

"Good point. We'll be extra careful. Thanks. We love you. Bye."

Dustin shuts the door behind them. Jennifer slides in the passenger seat along with the kids, starting the car and they question where to go. Jennifer suggests Family Video since your co-workers will believe since they went through hell and back the last three years. Jennifer steps on the gas pedal, pretty much speeding through the small town of Hawkins before entering the parking lot.

Jennifer, along with Max and Dustin open the door as the bell rings. He greets Steve as Robin and him look toward the two kids and Jennifer. She makes eye contact with the tall brunette, holding his gaze.

"Hey, Steve."

"You see this?"

"How many phones do you have?"

"Someone was murdered."

"How many phones do you have?" Dustin asks one more time.

"Two. Why?"

"Technically three, if you count Keith's in the back." Jennifer mentions.

"Three works."

Dustin throws his backpack off, chucking the bag across the counter and hoisting himself up and over the counter. In the process, he knocks down Steve's VHS tapes. Jennifer and Max enter the appropriate way.

"Setting up base of operation here."

"Base of operations?"

"Don't ask. Something my brother came up with to find Eddie."

Steve ignores Jennifer, getting irritated at the younger Henderson. "Get off!"

"I need it."

"Need it for what?"

"Eddie's friends' phone numbers."

"Oh, Eddie. Your new best friend -- and your new 'boyfriend' -- you think is cooler because he plays your nerdy game?"

"Yes. I never said that."

"How did you deal with this?" Max asks.

"Luckily, I was adopted. And I mostly tuned him out most of the time. Thank God, I work and have a life."

"Makes sense."

"Seriously, you guys, maybe on a Monday you can play around, but it's Saturday. It's our busiest day."

"Sorry, Robin. I didn't think he'd be this chaotic to deal with."

"It's okay, Jennifer. Wow, you actually showed up to work."

"Yeah."

"Robin, I empathize, but this cannot wait." Dustin vocalizes, holding a notepad.

"Oh, my God." Steve groans, assisting Robin with re-stacking everything on the counter.

"Yes, because calling Eddie's friends is an emergency?"

"Correct!" Dustin shouts.

Jennifer steps closer to the two, almost as annoyed. "Want me to strangle him or do you guys want to do that?"

"We could take turns."

"Can you fill them in while I do this? Jennifer, Max?"

"I'll do it," Jennifer says.

"Fill us in on what?"

"Chrissy Cunningham was found murdered in Eddie's trailer this morning by Max. Last night, she died from an unknown entity. I was there, I saw what happened. If you all believed me, then you'll believe Eddie. I don't know how to explain this, but something or some kind of being was after her. God knows who it'll take next."

With Robin, Max and Dustin on the phones, Jennifer and Steve work around the store. The conversations overlap as it soon becomes inaudible to her, but continues on stacking shelves and assisting people around the store for VHS tapes. She watches as Dustin picks up the dry erase maker and marks out another name. With Steve flirting, Jennifer tries not to get involved as he follows her towards the entrance, but comes back as Max hangs the phone up.

"Hey, guys, I might have a lead."

Jennifer leans against the counter, listening to what Max has to say.

"Apparently, Eddie gets drugs from some guy named Reefer Rick, and sometime Eddie crashes there."

"Hmm... He never told me that, and we've known each other since October of last year."

"Wow, since you are 'thing.' I'm surprised." Steve comments.

"Sounds promising. Where does Reefer Rick live?" Robin questions.

"See, that's the thing. No one knows. He's more of a... a legend than someone that people actually know."

"Last name?"

"I don't know that either."

"Bet the cops know the last name." Steve says.

"What?" Jennifer asks.

"Cops."

They continue to stare at him as he continues placing tapes in the bin storage below.

"I mean, listen, if this reefer rick is actually a drug dealer," He starts, stepping towards the counter, leaning next to Jennifer. "I guarantee you he's been busted at some point. which means he's in the system."

"The cops? Really Steve?" Dustin presses. "That's your suggestion?"

"I think they should be filled in on what we know, what's going on."

"You think Eddie's guilty, don't you?" Jennifer queries sternly, glancing at him.

"Whoa. I believe in innocent until proven guitly, all that constitution shit."

Max and Jennifer make eye contact, the redhead furrows her brows, the brunette annoyed.

Steve continues. "I just, you know, don't think we can rule it out."

"That's precisely what we're trying to do here, Steve."

"And maybe we'd have a little bit more luck if you spent less time complaining about Jennifer's love life and more time trying to find Eddie."

"Somebody has to attend to the customers."

"Hey, I work here too, Steve. I can help."

"No, anyone but you. You don't even care about working, all you care about is your stupid boyfriend.

"He's not my boyfriend, Steve. You're just jealous."

"I'm not... I'm not jealous, OK? Jesus."

"Sure, Steve. Sure."

Jennifer breaks herself away from Steve and steps behind the counter, approaching the computer and taking a seat on the chair. She gets the computer booted up.

"What are you doing?"

"Maybe we don't need a last name." She says, keys clicking under her fingertips. With a few more tussles on the keyboard, the computer beeps, listing various names on the screen.

Without noticing, Steve stands above, peering over her shoulder as he hand rest against the counter top. Her hand just inches away from his. She looks down, heart fluttering. She focuses, turning back to the desktop in front of her.

"Twelve Ricks have accounts here."

"That's a lot of Ricks."

"So, let's narrow it down."

Tapping a few keys, it pulls up one name.

"Rick Alderman's latest rentals are Annie and Dumbo."

"Chances our drug dealer has a family?" She asks.

"Not likely."

"All right." Jennifer clicks another name. "Rick Conroy. Sixteen Candles, Teen Wolf, Romancing the Stone."

Max, Steve, Dustin and Robin say no at the same time. Jennifer once again clicks another guy's name.

"Rick Joiner. Mask, Footloose, and Grease.

"Nah,"

"Rick Kimbrough. The Blue Lagoon and Splash."

They all laugh.

"Definitely not," Max says.

"No way."

Another name gets pulled up. "Rick Lipton. Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Cheech & Chong's Next Movie. Cheech and Chong's Nice Dreams. Cheech and Chong's Up in Smoke."

"Bingo."

"Lipton?"

"Spelled like the teas. 2121 Holland Road."

"That's out by Lover's Lake."

"Middle of nowhere."

"It's the perfect place to hide."

With a wave of adrenaline, Steve, Jennifer and Robin along with Max and Dustin grab their things, remove their vests before exiting the store. Robin is last as she turns the sign that reads 'Closed' before locking up. Jennifer glances at her car as she hates to leave it behind. She quickly makes sure it's locked before piling into the. backseat with the kids. Steve puts the keys in the ignition, revving the engine before taking off down the road.

On the way, Jennifer sits between Dustin and Max, fumbling with the keychain that's latched onto her keys. The ride was quiet, a little too quiet as she wanted to speak, she wasn't sure what to say. Max had her walkman playing as her headphones rest against her ears, so she couldn't talk to her, Dustin was looking out the window in his own little world.

"So, why did you hang up on me so fast?"

"Max was standing at my door which was unusual, but I knew it was about Chrissy and her death, so I quickly hung up."

"Okay. Whatever. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and wasn't the one who got murdered. That's why I suspected Eddie back there."

"Wow, so you admit that you believe he's a killer?"

"What? No. As I said earlier--"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay."

Jennifer was tense as she stayed silent the rest of the drive there. She sunk in her seat, holding her legs together since she was cramped between two growing teenagers.

Night approached fast as Steve pulls into the open space in front of the house, parking. They scramble out of his vehicle as Dustin hands everyone flashlights before approaching. Jennifer was hesitant, unintentionally standing beside Steve as she felt warm and safe beside him -- something she hasn't felt since before their break up. She holds the torch as it illuminates the front door. The porch light was off and the house looked abandoned, but Dustin stepped towards the door anyway. He rings the bell, impaintently waiting as not answers.

He rings again and again multiple times, getting frustrated.

"Okay. Well, that's settled. I guess he's not here."

"Eddie! it's Dustin."

"Great."

"Look, we just wanna talk okay? No cops, I swear. We just wanna help. Eddie!"

Jennifer approaches the door, pushing her younger brother to the side. "Eddie! It's Jennifer. We want to talk. Please."

"Shh."

Dustin pushes Jennifer back, making her lose her balance as she falls into Steve. He almost loses his grip on his torch, helping her stand straight. They stand there, faces inches away. Her breathing hitches in the back of her throat, not knowing what to say.

"Rick!" Dustin shouts, pounding his fist against the door. "Reefer Rick!"

"Don't scream that."

Inhaling, Jennifer smiles awkwardly before stepping off to the side as she watches Max step away. She follows after the redhead to keep her safe.

"Rick!"

"He's not here."

Dustin and Steve begin arguing like always.

"Hey, guys."

"What is it, Max?" Jennifer asks, the other's following her.

The lights shine into the distance as a little shack. Behind sits a body of water -- Lover's Lake. They stare at it before stepping up to the building, Jennifer grabs the door handle and twists the knob. She steps in, saying hello in the process.

"Is anyone home?" She asks.

The other's join, investigating the building.

"What a dump," Steve comments.

Dustin, Jennifer and Steve head to one side and Robin and Max on the other, searching for anything -- Eddie or Reefer Rick. Jennifer looks around before she watches as Steve turns off his torch and grabs an oar off the wall, stalking closer to the covered boat that sits in the water below. He begins nudging the tarp.

"What are you doing?" Dustin asks, startled.

"What are you doing?" Jennifer presses.

"He might be in here."

"So take the tarp off."

"If you're so brave, you take the tarp off."

Continuing, Jennifer stands there with her arms folded to her chest as her and Dustin exchange a look of annoyance.

"Maybe he heard us. Got spooked and ran."

"Don't worry. Steve will get him with his oar."

Steve continues poking. "I know you think you're being funny, but considering everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don't find it funny in the slight--"

A figure jumps up. Steve is panicked. The male grabs Steve's shirt and pushes him against the wall harshly, holding a broken bottle against the flesh of his neck. Jennifer was almost rigid but jumped into action as she stood beside her brother.

"Whoa, Eddie! Eddie! Stop!" Dustin shouts.

Robin and Max quickly approach.

"Eddie! Eddie!" Jennifer yells. "It's me. It's Jennifer. This is Steve. He's not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?"

"Right, yeah."

"Steve, why don't you drop the oar."

Without hesitation, he legs go of the oar as it falls to the floor. He groans when the glass gets pressed further, panicked.

"He's cool. He's cool."

"I'm cool, man. I'm cool."

"W-What are you doing here?"

"We're looking for you, Eddie." Jennifer says.

"We're here to help,"

"Eddie," Dustin begins. "These are my friends. You know Robin, from band."

Robin imitates a trumpet.

"This is my friend Max. The who never wants to play D&D."

"Eddie. We're on your side."

"I swear on my mother. Right, guys?"

"Yes. Yes. We swear."

"On Dustin's mother."

"Yeah, Dustin's... Dustin's mother."

Eddie backs away, looking tearfully at Jennifer. He slides down the wall. Dustin steps closer.

"We just want to talk," He says, reaching his hand out to grab the broken bottle.

Eddie startles, looking off to the side. Jennifer approaches, kneeling in front of him as well. She extends her arm but the male doesn't seem startled. Jennifer rests her hand on top of his, feeling him relax under her touch. Eddie stares in her eyes, holding her gaze. Tears begin to welling.

"We want to know what happened." Robin says softly.

He sniffles. "You won't believe me." He looks over at everyone as Jennifer stays knelt in front of him, holding his hand.

"Try us,"

"It's okay."

Everyone huddles around Eddie as he begins to recall the previous night and what happened to Chrissy. The grisly images flicker in Jennifer's mind, causing her to close her eyes for a few seconds before opening them. The first part of the story was inaudible to her since she felt upset. Beside her, Steve glances at her as she catches him.

"I'm fine," Jennifer mouths.

"Her body just, like, lifted up into the air and, uh... And she just-- just hung there. In the air. And her bones... Uh, she..." He explains, but a whimper cuts him short. "Her bones started to snap. Here eyes, man. It was like there was something, like inside her head, pulling. I didn't know what to do, so I... ran away. I left Jennifer there, I left Chrissy there. You all think I'm crazy, right?"

"No, they believed me when I told them what happened, Eddie. We saw the same thing. I've been through some... some crazy shit the last three years. You probably think I'm the crazy one."

"N-- No, I don't."

"We don't think you're crazy."

"Don't bullshit me, man! I know how this sounds."

"We're not bullshitting you."

"We believe you and Jennifer."

Eddie exhales.

"Look," Jennifer starts. "What I'm about to tell you might be a little... difficult to take."

"Okay,"

"You know how people say Hawkins is... cursed? They're not way off. There's another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours."

"Like ghosts and shit?" Eddie asks.

"There are some things worse than ghosts." Max says.

They sit there, pausing before Jennifer clears her throat.

"These monsters from this other world-- we thought they were gone. But they've come back before. That's why we needed to find you."

"If they're back again, we need to know."

"That night, did you see anything?"

"Dark particles, maybe?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"It would almost look like dust, swirling dust." Dustin adds.

"No, man, there was nothing you could see or, uh... touch."

Steve whips his head to face the shaken male, arms crossed with a serious expression plastered on his face.

"You know, we tried to wake her, man. She couldn't move. It was like she... she was in a trance or something."

"Or under a spell,"

The long haired male stares into her eyes once more.

"A curse."

"Vecna's curse."

Jennifer and her brother exchange a worried glance before looking back at Eddie.

"Who's Vecna?" Steve interrogates.

"An undead creature of great power."

"A spell caster,"

"A dark wizard,"

Jennifer begins begins to panic, taking a deep breath before exhaling. She looks at Steve, who is staring at her. She exchanges a nervous glance with everyone else, worried.

#midnight rain #chapter two: vecna's curse #stranger things season four #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #80s aesthetic #ch: jennifer henderson #emily rudd #eddie munson #steve harrington x oc

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arjaandsimoni · 1 year ago

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The Emperor and Judgement

Jaipur India, three days after the defeat of the manticore

Nelen groaned, sitting in the rec room of Barjar manor with his head in his hands. His phone was no longer buzzing with notifications for text messages, missed calls, voicemail, and various social media direct messages. This was because it was sitting across the table with a wooden stake driven through it. He had kept himself mostly anonymous on social media, sticking around on there just to keep an eye out for anything that could hint for trouble, but after what had happened his identity had been uncovered shockingly fast.

Rajesh Barjar had been equally as busy, trying mostly to put out metaphorical fires (and a few literal ones) as he attempted to explain to the rest of Jaipur’s ruling family why his daughter was able to defeat a monster that had killed over a dozen policemen, and eaten several of them whole.

There was no escaping or hiding this one. It was all out in the open now. Nobody could miss something like that. There had even been news interviews with the headmistress of the Heatherford Girl's Academy of Boston (who apparently was hoping to pressure Rajesh into footing the bill for the renovations after Nelen’s defeat of The Red Lady,) a manager of a McDonald’s in Provo Utah (who had sworn blind that she’d never met him and that any questions regarding a malfunctioning McFlurry machine should be directed to McDonald’s legal department,) and a police chief in Canon City Colorado (who had bluntly stated ‘no comment’ before locking his office door.)

Aisha’s manager had some very pointed questions for her as to how the hell she wound up in India, though apparently the top hat she had was giving them some ideas for their next clothing line so it wasn’t all bad for her. Natasha, Stephy, and Sammi had all vanished as soon as the cameras started going off so people barely got glimpses of them. Drusilla had already gotten a following on social media (turns out a lot of people are into large women, but in her case this mostly amused her,) but as for Arja and Simoni.

Well, they weren’t there.

After all that’d happened, they decided that a vacation was exactly what was needed, and if there was one place reporters wouldn’t be able to track them down it was somewhere that was outside of reality as they knew it.

So the day after all this began they decided to go visit Akul and the rest of the vanara… until they got the all clear to come back once things had calmed down.

Vanara Village, the Supernatural Realm

It didn’t really have a proper name, the Vanara all knew what and where it was, so why bother. They mostly just called it ‘home’ and left it at that.

The two girls were back in Mirza’s kitchen, each having a lovely bowl of chicken curry and naan with extra rice and recounting the story for the vanara woman.

“A manticore… well well, you two have come quite a long way. I doubt even Elder Akul could have handled one of those by himself.” she chuckled as she poured them another cup of chai tea.

Arja sighed, “Yeah, but it would have been nice if we’d thought to lure it out of the city before we went all in…” she shrugged, scooping up some of the curry onto her naan and gulping it down.

Simoni nodded, “I mean… we couldn’t really. That thing wasn’t playing around this time. Whoever its master was had clearly lost control of it. No supernatural would willingly let something run wild in a major city like that. I’m betting every vampire elder, archmage, and whatever is about ready to shit after that. Everyone is just asking ‘am I going to get found out next?’”

Mirza pursed her lips, “Mmm, yes that is a major problem. I know your grandfather was beside himself with worry when he heard about what had happened.” she nodded to Arja, “Last I heard all of our family in Jaipur is ready to abandon the city and make for the temple at a moment’s notice if we need to. With the manticore being this bold we can’t be certain that the naga won’t throw caution to the wind now that it’s all out in the open.”

Simoni frowned, “The worst part is we have no idea who its master is! I know the first time we fought it I heard a voice that sounded like a naga’s, but I can’t be certain… Mirza, do you have any ideas?” she asked.

The vanara woman shrugged her shoulders, “Nope. I’m no historian girls, just a woman who likes cooking. I keep to my kitchen and let Elder Akul worry about such matters.” she replied. “I prefer it that way, spices don’t start crises unless I put too many on a curry… and even then its quickly fixed.”

The two nodded, then finished up their meals and left the eatery, heading through the village towards the temple in the center where Akul spent his days. As the walked through town they did notice more looks than normal, though these were more admiration than anything. After all, a manticore was a horrible foe. To defeat one was quite the feat. The vanara would be talking about this for generations to come, that was certain.

The two entered the temple and approached the throne room where, as he often did, sat Arja’s grandfather. The massive ape-man examining a historical text with one face as his other face took careful notes as, of course, the man had two faces. One on either side of his head. He had been alive for quite some years, and such things happened to the enlightened of India’s supernatural community.

He paused as he heard them enter, then smiled, “Ah, girls… welcome back.” he nodded, putting down the tome.

“Hi grandpa.” replied Arja, smiling back at him, though it was a strained smile. The past few weeks had been difficult for them all. “Any luck yet?” she asked.

He sighed and shook his head, “I am afraid not… there are precious few who could ever have hoped to control a monster such as a manticore, and of those less than a dozen could have survived to the present day.” he frowned. “Even then, none of them would have a reason to hold specific enmity towards us that I know of…”

As they talked however a man arrived at the edge of the village. Several vanara paused and looked at this newcomer, then three of them raised weapons and demanded they leave at once. The newcomer gave them a withering look, then walked past them with their hands folded behind their back as if they were nothing more than an animal screeching at them.

Back in the temple Simoni shrugged, “Well… what if one of the other ones could have survived somehow? I mean, they may have just hidden away, or gone into some sort of hibernation or something.”

Akul stroked his left chin, frowning. “It is not… impossible, but unlikely still.” he replied.

Outside more of the vanara came rushing from their homes as cries of alarm went up, the newcomer walking casually towards the temple as if he was simply taking a Sunday afternoon stroll.

One vanara, braver than the others, dove towards him with a spear and without looking the newcomer spun, slammed their fist into their face, and sent them flying into a nearby house with a sickening crunch, then shook their hand clean and sniffed in annoyance before continuing along his path.

Arja scowled, “But who are they? All we know is this thing has a master that might be a naga… ugh!” she threw up her arms, “They know us! They know all about what we can do! They even knew about Dawn’s tricks but we know NOTHING about them except they’re powerful and one MIGHT be a naga!” she shouted in frustration.

Simoni nodded, “Yeah… we don’t even know why they’re after us…” she added, then paused as she had a worrying thought, “Arja… the only reason we’ve got for anyone to be after us right now would be that we helped hide Rama’s Arrow… do you think…” she glanced towards her… then suddenly a young vanara guardsman burst into the temple.

“ELDER AKUL! We have an intruder in the village! A powerful raksha-…” he began, then a hand closed around his throat and threw him outside of the temple.

“I can announce myself, thank you.” came a cultured voice in a very old dialect of Sanskrit.

Akul rose from his throne, his eyes widening as, into the temple, walked a man in the garb of an ancient Indian maharajah. He had long glossy black hair tied into a braid down his back and a trimmed mustache and beard. He also had deep blue skin and shining yellow eyes… clearly not human at all.

“Who are you?” Akul demanded, “How dare you intrude upon our home! Begone at once rakshasa!” he demanded.

The rakshasa frowned, “So discourteous... Behave yourself vanara or I will be forced to correct you.” he scolded.

Arja’s eyes bulged, the girl shifting into her vanara form as she snarled at him. “Don’t you talk to my grandfather that way! You’re in our home and we outnumber you easily! What makes you think you’ll be leaving here alive?” she demanded.

The rakshasa sniffed, “You truly do not know who I am, do you?” he sighed, “I suppose it has been quite some time since I last walked upon this world. Even the spawn of Hanuman no longer recognize me…” he shook his head, “Very well, very well… I shall educate you children.”

He stood, smirking at them, “Kneel and recognize your better, monkeys! Before you stands none other than the son of the true king of Lanka! Heir to the great and powerful King Ravana whose austerities were so grand that even Shiva was forced to acquiesce to his demands!” he laughed as Simoni looked around. Arja had frozen on the spot, all the bravado gone from her face as even Akul took a step backwards in shock.

“I am Prince Indrajit. Conqueror of the devas…” he grinned at Arja and Akul, “… and who, in a single day, slew over six hundred million of your kin, nearly destroying the line of Hanuman single-handedly. To me, you are nothing but animals.”

Arja stared at him, her eyes wide. “No… you’re gone. Lakshmana killed you!” she insisted. “He beheaded you with Anjalikastra! You’re gone!”

Indrajit chuckled, “So that is what they told you…” he shook his head, “No, he did not use that weapon. He used a sword… one that was not of the deva, or of India itself. It was a great giant blade… a…” he paused, thinking, “I believe a claymore is the term the westerners use for them…” he nodded.

Simoni felt a chill go down her back, “… no…” she shook her head.

“Yes indeed, a claymore. At least that’s what his mortal allies saw. I saw a great gaping hole in the world… as if the air itself was ripped apart, leading to nothing but blackness.” sneered the Rakshasa.

Arja felt her heart catch in her chest, the girl glancing at Simoni, then back at Indrajit. They knew of only one sword like that… and they had both had a hand in its destruction.

“After my return I had my servants track down any information they could on such a sword. Apparently it was made in what is now called the ‘United Kingdom.’ Why, I even learned it had a name. I am not familiar with the tongue, but I believe it was called…” he continued, smiling as he drew the moment out.

“No…” whispered Arja, “We didn’t… that… there’s no way…” she was breathing fast now, her eyes wide with horror.

“… I believe it is pronounced… ‘Claiomh Dorcadas.’” he finished, watching them curiously.

Simoni felt her legs tremble. She felt her stomach churning.

“If it were up to me, I’d shatter as many as I could… but… even then… if there was something like Ravana in one… I mean, we can’t know until it’s broken.”

That was what she’d said to Arja when they were almost to the Temple of Rama to deliver the arrow, before Akuru had ambushed them. They couldn’t know until it was broken.

Now they did know, there was something like Ravana in Claomh Dorcadas.

HIS SON.

Indrajit chuckled at their clear distress, “Truly, I must thank you two children. Knowingly or not, you freed me! What is more, knowing what my prison was I learned the truth of my father’s defeat! So, I am here today to offer you terms for an honorable surrender.” he nodded, “Thus are my terms. You will stand aside and not attempt to stop me from retrieving the Arrow of Rama. In exchange, your people may live… for now.”

Arja was breathing so hard she was on the verge of hyperventilating, her eyes wide and wild. This wasn’t as bad as Ravana’s return, but it was damn close to it! What was worse, he had been trapped within Claiomh Dorcadas! This was her fault!

“A-and… if we refuse?” she managed to gasp out.

Indrajit chuckled, as if enjoying a personal joke, then he fixed Arja with a glare as his expression became deadly serious. “Then Jaipur will burn.” he snarled, “I have spent the last several months rallying the rakshasa to my banner once more, and the naga as well. I command a veritable army once again. If you attempt to stop me, my forces will besiege the city and utterly erase it.” he spat. “None will survive, mortal or otherwise. No buildings will be left standing. We will reduce the city to rubble and salt the land it stood on. Make no mistake, scion of Hanuman. What I do now I do because honor demands it. Otherwise, you would not be alive.”

Simoni shook her head, trying to focus past her shock, “It was you. You sent the manticore, didn’t you?” she demanded.

Indrajit shrugged, “A useful beast for testing your abilities, but a troublesome one. It got so frustrated with those foreign warriors sent to stop it that it refused to listen to me and attacked Jaipur alone. Really, you have my gratitude for putting it down. A pet that refuses to listen to its master does not deserve to live.”

Indrajit shook his head in disappointment, then straightened up and clapped his hands, “Ah, but I must be off. Many things to do to prepare for my father’s return. Remember, if you try to prevent this all those you know and love will pay the price for your actions scion of Hanuman.” he nodded, the rakshasa prince turning and leaving as casually as he came in… only to find a mob of vanara waiting outside, weapons drawn.

Indrajit looked around, making an annoyed tsking sound, then flexed his hands… but before anyone could act Akul emerged behind him and called out, “STAND DOWN! ALL OF YOU!” in a loud booming voice.

The vanara looked at him in confusion, but Elder Akul had said it… so hesitantly they lowered their weapons and stepped back, making a path for Indrajit.

The prince chuckled, “Listen to your leader little monkeys. As much as I would enjoy the exercise, I am very busy today.” he nodded, walking to the edge of the plateau where the city stood, then jumping off. It was a fall that would kill most people, but clearly this was not most people.

Simoni stood next to Akul, watching him leave… then she heard Arja coughing behind her, then retching.

The vanara was on her knees, the stress and shock of what had just happened causing her to throw up the curry they had just eaten onto the floor of the temple. She knelt there next to the puddle, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Arja!” called Simoni, rushing over to her and sitting next to her as the vanara curled up into a ball, wrapping her arms tight around her legs and burying her face in them.

“This is our fault Simoni… we broke Claiomh Dorcadas… we set him free… this is all our fault…” she whispered.

“Arja, yeah we did… but we can still stop him! We can make it right!” she nodded, putting her hand on the vanara’s shoulder.

Arja shook her head, “No, no we can’t… if Rama and Lakshmana had to use mundane blades to defeat them, what chance do we have? India, maybe the entire world is doomed… and it’s our fault!” she moaned out, shuddering as the weight of it all settled on her like a shroud.

Through the jungle below, Indrajit strode back to his base of operations in the Supernatural World, a smile of accomplishment on his face. He could have simply killed her, yes, but this was so much more satisfying. He had seen her face, he had heard the shaking in her voice.

Let Hanuman’s heir live to see their King’s ultimate failure and the destruction of all they held dear. Arja could not stand against him now. He didn’t need to break the vanara girl’s body, he had already broken her spirit.

#fiction #modern fantasy #supernatural adventures #lgbtq

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portraitdelajeunefilleenfeu · 4 years ago

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WELL!..

..my day is complete.

#yelyahwilliams #hayley williams #paramore #flowers for vases #petals for armor #twitter #we really did call his phone number over and over again and leave horrible messages or say rude things until he disconnected it #we sent stuff to his house.. whatever we could have sent for cheap or free #just to inconvenience him #we called the police and reported him for various shit #paramoreband #live journal #formerly fuckyeahhayleywilliams #1013

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screamsortega · 2 years ago

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i won’t let anyone hurt you;

summary: as news of a new ghostface arises you get painful flashbacks from the year before, luckily, your boyfriend ethan is there to comfort you.

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, murder, all that stuff.

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

*lowercase intended*

“what’s going on?” sam spoke, rushing in not too long after chad called for her.

“…where the mutilated bodies of two students..” the news reporter on the tv spoke.

“cute boy, nice.” quinn said, pointing to the guy that followed in after sam.

“their names have just been released by the police, jason carvey and greg bruckner.” the reporter continues before mindy chimes in.

“holy shit,” she began, “that’s that chode from our film studies class. the one obsessed with argento.”

“Also found at the scene were various ghostface costumes, a character popularized by the stab movie franchise.” as soon as the reporter said those words, you could feel your face grow pale before you all looked at one another.

“Pack a bag, we leave in ten.” sam spoke, walking into the kitchen to grab a knife.

“sam, wait, sam!” tara spoke up, walking over towards her sister.

“we’re getting out of the city.”

“what?” the guy, danny, that followed behind sam said.

“thank you, suspicious new guy, but we got it from here.” chad says, slightly pushing danny back out of the apartment. “have a good night, get home safe.”

“sam.” tara said, “sam, wh- hold on, no, wait, let’s talk about this for a second. cause this might not have anything to do with us.”

“are you serious?” sam asked.

“it’s a big city! it’s halloween, everybody’s wearing masks!” tara defended.

“tara, this isn’t a coincidence.” sam spoke, hee voice slightly raising. “you knew him!”

“barely.”

“chad, mindy, y/n? back me up.”

“i mean, it is a little bit..” chad started as mindy finished his sentence. “close to home.”

“see?” sam said, turning back to tara.

you had been sitting in silence, blanking out, ethan had taken notice of this. “y/n?” he spoke, his voice low enough to where only you could hear.

ethan’s voice caused you to bring yourself back into reality, you get up and walk into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you which causes the group to stop in the middle of their conversations.

“is — is she okay?” anika questions, looking from one person to another.

“this is bringing shit back for her,” tara began, “everything that happened last year traumatized her for like, life.”

“didn’t it happen to all of you, though?” quinn asks, trying to keep up.

“well, yeah, but it just had a way harder hit on her. she hasn’t been dealing with it well either.”

ethan glances at the ground, contemplating on whether or not he should try and comfort you.

he gets up, heads to your bedroom door but before he reaches for the handle mindy chimes in. “she probably doesn’t want to be bothered right now, dude.”

ethan rolls his eyes, ignoring mindy’s comment as he walks in your bedroom and closes the door behind him.

“hey, you okay?” ethan asks, sitting besides you as his hand rests upon your shoulder.

you shrug his hand off, “go away, e.”

the two of you sit in silence for a moment, ethan deciding on what to say. “do you wanna talk about it?”

you just sit there, knees up against your chest as your head hangs low. “i know this must be hard for you, and i’m sorry that you have to go through this again.” ethan began.

“i care about you, y/n, and i’m here for you. so, please, talk to me.”

for some reason, tears just start to pour onto your face, your head falls upon ethan’s shoulder. “i can’t do this shit again, e, i can’t.”

“i know, it’s okay,” ethan began, his hand crept up to your hair, brushing through it. “just take deep breaths, okay? in and out.”

“ethan,” you began, finally controlling your breathing. “you have to get out of here, okay? if ghostface is really back then that means they’ll come after everyone, and that includes you and i can’t lose you, e.”

“yeah, well, you must be crazy if you think i’m leaving you.” ethan spoke, “i won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?”

“just let it all out, y/n”

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bluephoenixgirl · 2 years ago

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Still Alive ~ Chapter Four

Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Weapons, Adult Language, Parent Issues, Nightmares, Trauma, Death Threats, Angst, A tiny bit of Fluff, Blood, Ghostface Attack, and Stabbing. (Sorry if I forgot any!)

Word Count: 2,540

Author’s Note: Hello Again Everyone! Happy to say that this chapter is finally when the action starts to begin!!! I wanted to tell you all now that I am currently writing another scream fanfic however this is in a universe where there is no ghostface! It takes place in high school. It’s based off the song called Teenage Dirtbag. It’s a Ethan x Reader story again. I will say it won’t be ready to post for a while since I’ve got a lot going on in my personally life so my writing process is slowed at the moment. I have a Jack Champion one shot in mind that includes some of the Avatar cast. I do want to write some Avatar stories as well which I know will be a challenge that I’m up for! Anyways, thank you to the ones who are reading this and the story! I hope you enjoy this chapter and next chapter will be posted Sunday!

When Chad brought Sam into the apartment Y/N was sitting with Ethan on the chair while Quinn was sitting on the couch with Mindy and Anika. Tara was sitting on a different chair by herself. Everyone had a worried gaze on the TV. A guy who lives downstairs followed Sam which Quinn noticed right away. “Cute boy. Nice!” Quinn said to Sam with a nod of her head. “What’s going on?” Sam asked with worry in her tone. Chad just pointed at the television.

“I’m standing in front of the apartment building where the mutilated bodies were found.” The reporter said. Everyone in the room had their eyes glued to the screen. “Their names have been released by the police. Jason Carvey, and Greg-.” The reporter said but before the group could listen to the last name of the other victim Mindy spoke. “Holy shit, that’s that chod from our film studies class! The one obsessed with Orchento.” Mindy said to Tara in a surprised tone. “Also found at the scene were various Ghostface costumes, the character popularized by the ‘Stab’ movie franchise.” The reporter said.

Y/N felt her whole-body tense up. She quickly thought back to the party. That guy who was dressed as Ghostface. Could that have been one of them? Did they go and kill those guys and head right to the party acting like it was nothing? She jumped a little when she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders but quickly relaxed when she realized it was just Ethan. He gave her a comforting smile which helped her relax. She returned the smile but also felt a strong glare on them. When she looked over, she noticed it was Quinn looking at them with a glare. When their eyes met Quinn looked away and back to the television. Y/N is close to everyone in this room but Quinn. She feels like Quinn has a huge problem with her and she has no idea why.

“Pack a bag, we leave in ten.” Sam told Tara in a stern tone and walked out of the room. “Sam! Wait, Sam!” Tara called out as she quickly stood up. “We’re getting out of the city.” Sam called out from the kitchen. “What?” Cute boy said with a mixture of confusion and concern in his tone. “Thank you, very much suspicious new guy, but I think we can handle it from here. Have a good night, get home safe.” Chad said as he pushed the guy out of the apartment and shut the door.

Tara called out to Sam again. Sam grabbed a knife and walked back into the living room. “Sam wh-what, hold on.” Tara said with panic in her tone because of her sister holding a huge kitchen knife. “Come on.” Sam said to her, acting all calm. “Hold on, wait, let’s talk about this for a second.” Tara started. “Cause’ this-this might not have anything to do with us.” Tara explained stumbling over her words again. “Are you serious?” Sam said she was starting to get annoyed with her sister again. “You knew him!” Sam hissed pointing at the TV. “Barely.” Tara hissed back.

“Chad, Mindy, Y/N, back me up.” Sam called out to them trying to get some sense into Tara. “I mean it is a little bit- “Chad started to say shuffling his feet around. “Close to home.” Mindy said finishing Chad’s sentence. Everyone then looked at Y/N which made her sigh. Why does she have to be a part of this fucked up situation? “As being the daughter of a former Woodsboro cop who went through this shit like a hundred times. This can’t be just a coincidence.” Y/N explained to Tara with a serious look in her eyes. “See!” Sam told Tara.

“Quinn, your dad’s a cop, right?” Tara asked looking over at Quinn. “Can you call him and find out what’s going on?” Tara added on. “Before you make the unilateral decision to abandon my college education and flee the fucking state!” Tara snapped looking back at Sam with a nasty glare in her eyes. “I’m calling him now.” Quinn said, putting her phone up to her ear. She stood up from the couch and walked into a different room.

The room was all quiet till Sam’s phone started to ring, making the whole room tense up. Sam walked over to her phone that was on the dining table. “Who is it?” Y/N asked trying to not sound scared but didn’t do a very good job. “Your mom.” Sam said relieved seeing the name ‘Gale Weathers’ flashing on her phone. “Hit fucking decline!” Y/N hissed now angry and annoyed.

Sam did exactly what she told her to do. Y/N knew her mom just called Sam to ask her for a comment about the latest murders. Y/N feels like her mom cares more about her stupid ass career than anything. Quinn came running back into the room. “Sam, my dad wants to talk to you.” Quinn said, handing her phone over to Sam. Sam let out a sigh as she took the phone.

As Sam talked on the phone with Detective Bailey the whole room was silent which made Y/N slip deep into her thoughts. Of course, she was thinking about this new Ghostface, but she was also thinking about her careless mother. A normal mom would call her daughter up to ask if she and her friends are okay. Not to call up one of them to ask them questions about the fucking murder. Y/N really wished that her dad was here with her. If he was here, she knows she would feel a whole lot safer. Y/N broke out of her thoughts when Sam spoke.

“Detective Bailey needs me to come down to the station.” Sam said giving the phone back to Quinn after she changed her shirt really quick. Sam grabbed her phone putting it into her back pocket. She also grabbed her jacket and keys and walked out of the apartment. Tara grabbed her jacket and quickly followed Sam.

“I’ll be right back.” Y/N said as she stood up. “Where are you going?” Ethan asked her. “I need to go give my mom a special call.” Y/N said, taking her phone out of her pocket and walked into the kitchen. “Expect to hear some yelling.” Mindy warned everyone as she let out a sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was the next day and Y/N was completely exhausted due to the lack of sleep. Right when she and Mindy got back home to their apartment, they got a call from Tara saying her and Sam got attacked by Ghostface. She reassured them that she and Sam didn’t get hurt and were at the police station for questioning. That was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t get enough sleep. It was like every time she closed her eyes, she had a nightmare, and they were worse than before.

Since she knew that they would continue to the point where she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all she gave Sam a call when she got up this morning asking for the number of the therapist she’d been seeing. Sam gave her the number and then mentioned to her that they had a run in with her mom outside the police station which had her fuming. Why won’t her mom just fucking listen to her? After she ended the phone call with Sam, she gave the therapist a call and was able to get an appointment this afternoon since he had a cancellation.

Y/N was sitting in the plaza on the school campus with the whole group. Y/N was sitting in between Ethan and Tara. Tara was sitting next to Chad while Sam, Anika, and Quinn sat on a bench together. Mindy was standing in front of everyone. “Already nerds, listen up!” Mindy said as she clapped her hands together.

“As terrifying as this all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time.” Mindy said with disappointment at the end of her sentence. Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t even want to be there, but Mindy made her. “It’s fine.” Mindy said quickly, changing her mood. “The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel.” Mindy told everyone. Anika raised her hand. “Um, what’s a requel?” Anika asked in a curious and innocent tone. “You’re beautiful sweetie, let’s hold questions ‘till the end.” Mindy said to her girlfriend as Anika put her hand down. “Stab one took place in Woodsboro, Stab two took place in college.” Sam chimed in. “Do we think that the killer is trying to copy the movies?” Tara asked in a curious tone. “That is one possibility.” Mindy said, pointing at Tara.

“Hero’s now in college, check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round the suspect list and/or body count, check, check, and check.” Mindy explained by pointing to Quinn, Anika, and then Ethan. “I don’t like this!” Ethan said with a mixture of fear and nervousness in his tone. Y/N could tell that his heart was racing so she took one of his hands into hers and gave it a light squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay. Relax.” Y/N told him in a calm tone as she gave him a smile. “Okay.” Ethan said with a nod as he looked into her eyes, which were helping him calm down. “Hey lovebirds.” Mindy called out getting their attention. “May I continue?” Mindy asked with a stern look in her eyes. “Yes, please continue.” Y/N said in annoyance as she shot a glare at Mindy. Mindy was really getting on her nerves today.

“As I was saying, it can’t just be about Stab two.” Mindy said, getting back to her lecture. “Why not?” Tara asked her. “It would make sense if that were just a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore!” Mindy said as excitement started to build up inside of her. “Don’t say, don’t say, don’t say it!” Y/N mumbled out. “We’re in a franchise!” Mindy said, throwing both of her arms up into the air. “There it is.” Y/N said with a groan. “And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise.” Mindy told them. “I had a feeling.” Sam said with a sigh.

“Rule one, everything is bigger than last time! Bigger budge, bigger cast, bigger body count, longer chases, shoot outs, beheadings, gotta top what came before to keep people coming back.” Mindy said starting to list off the rules of horror movies. “Beheadings?” Chad asked looking up from the notebook he was writing in. “Beheadings.” Mindy told him with a point of the finger.

“Rule two, whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations, and if the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with letterboxed accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here.” Mindy said explaining rule two. Mindy was starting to give Y/N a headache.

“And rule three, no one is safe.” Mindy said in a stern tone. “Legacy character, cannon folder at this point. Usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia.” Mindy said it in a much nicer tone than before. “It’s not looking good for Gale and Kirby.” Mindy said with sadness which made now made Y/N’s heart rate speed up. “Woah, hold on!” Y/N said before Mindy could continue.

“You’re telling me that my mom is on the list to get butchered.” Y/N said in a worried tone. “Like I said, no one is safe.” Mindy told her which struck Y/N’s last nerve. “You know what, I’m done!” Y/N said standing up which made her let go of Ethan’s hand that she actually didn’t even realize she was still holding onto. “Y/N, I’m just- “Mindy started to say but Y/N immediately cut her off. “NO!” Y/N yelled making everyone in the group jump.

“I lost two family members because of this Ghostface shit!” Y/N said with anger as she picked up her bag from the ground. “This isn’t a fucking movie, Mindy; this is real fucking life. I’m not going to fucking sit here and let you tell me I’m going to lose more people, especially my mom.” Y/N told her in a snappy tone and walked away from her friends. Yes, she may be super pissed at her mom and doesn’t want to talk to her but she’s still her mom and doesn’t want to see another family member killed. Ethan wanted to follow her, but he knew that she most likely wanted to be alone to cool off. Everyone was in complete shock because they had never seen Y/N like that before. She finally let her friends see all of the anger and frustration that had been building up inside of her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N went back to her apartment to cool down and take some medicine for headache. She relaxed a little bit till she had to go to her appointment. Y/N decided to just walk since it really wasn’t that far of a walk. When Y/N got to the address she saw the front door was wide open and a body was just lying there. As she walked closer and closer to the door her heartrate kept speeding up. When she got to the door she gasped in complete horror. The therapist was laying on the ground. His face was all bloody, it looked like he was stabbed through the face.

Y/N stepped into the house to get a better view but that turned out to be a huge mistake because she was grabbed from behind. As Y/N struggled she noticed the familiar black sparkly gloves holding onto her tightly. “Get off me you motherfucker!” Y/N hissed as she used all of her strength to back Ghostface into the wall which made them let go of her.

Y/N ran into what seemed like the living room to find some kind of weapon. Before she could grab anything, she felt something sharp going into her shoulder making her scream in pain. She fell to the hard wood floor after Ghostface took their knife out of her now bleeding shoulder. Ghostface kept trying to stab her legs, but she kept kicking them away as she held onto her shoulder wound.

Ghostface finally had enough of her, so they grabbed her by the neck and pushed her up against the wall. Y/N struggled to breathe as they held tightly onto her throat. “Say hi to daddy for me!” Ghostface said into their voice changer as they raised their knife. Before Ghostface could stab her with the bloody knife a gunshot rang out. Ghostface dropped her and quickly fled the house. Y/N groaned in pain as her ass hit the hard wood floor.

“Hey Y/N.” She heard a familiar voice say. When she looked up, she saw Kirby. “Kirby!” Y/N said in a relieved tone. “It’s okay, I got you.” Kirby said walking over to her helping her up from the floor. “Where did they get you?” Kirby asked with concern. “In the shoulder.” Y/N answered in pain as she let Kirby help her out of the house.

*Tags*

@sweetirilly @aqellano @igotmajordaddyissues @athenalive @hotweeb @ghostlyboiii @marshallowy

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 3 years ago

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Bloody Beetle | Part One

Summary: a night on the late shift with Steven ends badly when a creepy guy with a scales tattoo shows up searching for a beetle

Pairing: Steven Grant x reader (with a hint of Marc)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: not proof read so sorry if it’s shit 🙈 I’ll probably edit this tomorrow after sleep

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

- - - - -

Spending your nights scanning inventory isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you took on the job at the museum. You thought you’d be leading tours or helping arrange displays of cool ancient artefacts. But your boss had other plans. She’d taken a dislike to you during your first week on the job and since then she’d always stick you on the late shift. Initially this irritated you. The late shift meant unsociable hours doing the dull tasks no-one else wanted to do.

But it was on the late shift where you met Steven and you’d been good friends ever since. Usually Steven would be here with you and the two of you would make fun games out of inventory. But for the past few nights he seems to have fallen off the face of the earth.

So here you are again, preparing for another boring evening of scanning and packing various overpriced toys and trinkets. Alone.

You’d just started working your way through the first box of items when Steven charged into the room.

“Bloody hell, he’s alive!” You say as you monotonously move items from one box to another, scanning each one on the till in the process. “Glad to see you're still with us.”

“Huh?” Steven mutters, not really playing attention to you.

“No one’s seen or heard from you in days Steven. I was this close to calling the police and reporting you as missing.” You say half jokingly attempting to cover how truly worried you’ve been, but you can tell he’s not really listening. He keeps glancing at the door, fear in his eyes. You put down the Egyptian sphinx shaped kids toy you were about to scan and walk around the counter to him. You reach out to him, gently placing a hand on his arm and he jumps, wide eyes staring into yours. “Woah, what’s going on with you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah yeah, um, all good” he says unconvincingly forcing a smile.

“Steven…” you pause “I’m your best and pretty much only friend, alright, don't lie to me.”

You watch his face as he thinks for a moment, before taking a breath and telling you everything. About the black outs, the voices and the dreams.

“I woke up screaming on the bus today with no memory of how I got there! It just felt so real Y/N, like I was really there. And then when I got off the bus, I saw him. The man from my dream, he’s real! He was on the bus and he followed me into the museum. He’s proper creepy. Going on about a scarab and Ammit and-”

“The Egyptian god?” You ask, interrupting him.

“Deity, yeah, he’s like some sort of super fan or something? I don't know. He’s got this tattoo, scales on his arm and they move Y/N. A tattoo that moves! And he killed a women, I thought it was a dream but now I think it might have been real…” he stops rambling for a moment to make sad eye contact with you “you must think I’m crazy”

“Of course I don't think you're crazy. Sleep deprived, maybe, but not crazy.” You pause and he gives you a small relieved smile. “Look, how about we crack on with this work and get it finished so we can go out for a drink yeah? My treat.”

“That sounds nice” he smiles but you only get to see it for a moment before the lights go out.

“Oh lovely!” You say sarcastically. This isn’t the first time other staff members have turned the lights off as they leave, forgetting you're still here. “I’ll go turn them back on”

As you head through the darkened museum you get a sudden sense of danger wash over you. Something moving in the shadows around you. Footsteps behind you. Breathing.

You stop in your tracks quickly turning to look around, your eyes straining to see in the darkest part of the room.

A rhythmic tapping sound slowly getting louder makes you spin around, and you see someone walking toward you.

“J.B? Is that you?”

“You are a friend of Marc Spector?” An unknown voice asks.

“uh… who…?” You just manage to respond as the long haired man steps into the moonlight shining through the skylight above. He comes to a stop in front of you, leaning slightly on the cane in his hands.

“Or maybe you know him as Steven Grant?”

You suddenly remember everything Steven has just told you and a realisation dawns on you. You glance down at the tattoo on the man’s arm; scales! This is the man Steven was talking about!

“Look, sir-”

“Call me Arthur, please”

“…Arthur. I’m sorry I don't know what you're talking about but the museum is actually closed now so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I'm afraid I can’t do that. You see, something that I care about was stolen, by your friend, and I really need him to give it back. So I’m going to take something he cares about.”

The man gives a slight nod and suddenly you feel two pairs of hands restrain your arms.

“Let go of me!” You fight but it only makes them hold you tighter.

“Y/N?” Steven calls out as he runs to find you, but two more men step in his way before he can get close. “What the hell?! Let her go!”

“Return what you stole, and I will.” the man replies calmly

“I told you I don't have your bloody beetle!”

“The other you does.”

“What does that even mean?” Steven looks a mix of confused and terrified “Nothing you say makes any sense!"

“Then let me make it clear. Give me the scarab and I’ll give you the girl.”

“I don't know where it is!” Steven says almost pleading. “Look just, let her go and I’ll help you find it. Please just… just let her go. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“I’ll let Ammit be the judge of that” he turns to face you as the men holding your arms back suddenly push them forward so they’re out in front of you. Arthur keeps his eyes fixed on yours as gently takes hold of your wrists, placing his cane to balance between them. Behind him you see Steven trying but failing to get past the men blocking his path to you.

“What are you doing?” You ask but Arthur shushes you.

“I judge you in Ammit’s name with but a fraction of her power.”

Suddenly the cane begins swinging back and forth on its own, and you notice the scale tattoo on his arm has gone from being perfectly balanced to now swaying wildly. It slows down and finally comes to a stop, turning red.

You look up at Arthur, who’s eyes remain fixed on yours.

“I’m sorry” he says “But Ammit has decided”

“No!” Steven shouts, desperately trying to fight his way through.

“What- what does that mean? Decided what?” You ask, sensing this means something bad. You try to free your hands from his grasp.

“She’s good! She does good things!” Steven continues to shout “She hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Maybe not yet, but she will” Arthur remains eerily calm as he continues to look into your eyes, like he’s searching your soul “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish you could see the world we’re going to create.”

He closes his eyes and as he takes a deep breath in you feel unable to breath at all, like the life is being drained from your body. You drop to your knees, your hands still in Arthur’s grasp.

Out the corner of your eye you're aware of movement, chaos breaking loose around you and suddenly one of the men who had been holding Steven back crashes to the floor next to you causing Arthur to release his grip on you. You slump on the ground, your lungs burning as your finally able to breath again.

Through your hazy eyes you watch as body fly across the room, smashing into various displays and in the centre of it all is Steven. You watch in disbelief as he effortlessly picks up a man by the throat and smacks him into the wall.

“Stop!” Arthur shouts and Steven drops the man, turning to face Arthur. “This chaos and destruction must come to an end.”

“Then leave.” Steven replies sternly, his voice sounding entirely different.

“I believe I’m now talking to the man who knows where the scarab is. Ammit has a deal for you. Bring the scarab to me and she’ll let the girl live despite her judgement. Fail and she will take her soul.”

Steven looks over at you laying on the ground, then back to Arthur.

“Deal.”

Arthur begins to leave, stopping as he crosses by you.

“I will be seeing you again. Praise Ammit.”

As soon as he leaves ‘Steven’ runs to you, kneeling at your side.

“Y/N?! Are you okay?” He says, his voice still different. American.

You study his face, something is different.

“You're not Steven” you say, your voice small and weak.

“I’m Marc, Marc Spector. It’s good to finally meet you.”

PART TWO

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #arthur harrow #moon knight x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight reader insert

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pinkprimrose05 · 2 years ago

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ARC-V Month Day 16: Actually, He Would Say That

Look, we all like our cast with their pros and their cons, but sometimes there's just something... missing, when you look at canon portrayal. Some more depth. Some trivial details and silly nitpicks, to add to their flair... which are exactly what today is all about. Show us your headcanons and most random thoughts!

Ah yes, headcanons: my favorite way to patch up the swiss cheese holes in any story ever, and the personal cherry on top I place whwn there are no holes to patch. For someone who claims to have a lot of them, I've shared a rather small amount of my headcanons so far... but that changes today!

___________

1- In a world where the counterparts stay separate, when all is said and done, the Lancers decide to keep in contact at Sawatari's suggestion -shocker, I know- and so they make a groupchat to talk about mundane life and things that strike their fancy. Said groupchat is... actually decently normal considering its members, but you still see flashes of the weirdest shit sometimes- like Dennis' massive collection of kaomojis, Reiji's 10-page long essays on why black coffee is overrated, Shun's inability to stand back and watch this nerdy fuck slander the superior coffee blend, Serena's copious cat stickers and reaction pics, Tsukikage's concerning stash of blackmail screenshots (99% of which is enabled by Sawatari, much to banana's mortfication), and Yuuya's oddly random, unprompted threats of homicide that he never fails to end with an innocent :D

2- Shuuzou has adopted all kids in the messy Akaba/Kurosaki/Hiiragi family tree, some metaphorically, most literally. He even got Himika to sign off custody of Reira, but left Reiji to his own devices because he just- doesn't know how to go about it with the guy. He's still invited to family & friend gatherings, however, and ends up getting called "son" no less than seven times in front of the whole family and the Sakakis. Legend has it that Reiji is still looking for ways to disappear into the ground to this day. Don't get him wrong, he appreciates the sentiment, but everytime he hears the word he straight up bluescreens.

3- As little screentime as they get to actually appear and talk, the monster spirits are very much still willing to communicate with humans- with a few exceptions, of course. Some of the older spirits like the Magistus quartet and Agents have strong reservations toward making themselves known after the dimension split fiasco(s), but then there's little ones like the Wights and the Ghostricks, who just spontaneously spawn into the human world on Halloween (to the dismay of Maiami City's police department, which had to contend with 57 reports of vandalism and stolen candy and various small acts of mischief the first time it happened).

4- The reason behind the Performapals' synergy and eventual archetypal overlap with Odd-Eyes actually goes a few ways back to one of their shows as a wandering troupe. While preparing for departure, Hip Hippo stumbled upon a lone dragon roaming in the wild on their own, and told his companions about it. One hour in and lots of excitable discussion later, their troupe gained a special new member who would soon become their main attraction, and together they resolved to improve their talents, to put on the best show under their master's conduct.

___________

Admittedly... this is quite a bit shorter than I wanted it to be. There are still many headcanons I've yet to put into words, buuuut I'm afraid this submission is a tad late already, so I'll have to ever-so-subtly shove some of those into written works and post the rest on their own later (someday. sometime. eventually. for sure.)

Thanks for sticking around, anyway- here's a cookie for your trouble! 'Till next time ;D

#arcvmonth2023 #arcvmonth #yugioh #yugioh arc v #pink's works #pink's silly aus #long post

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ooooo-mcyt · 4 years ago

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Yknow what? I'd actually go so far as to say that, as much as ive seen it complained about, it's actually pretty hard to "UwU" or "Woobify" Grian within the context of yhs.

I mean. It's possible if you go really extreme with it, but it's hard.

Grian at his core is actually a primarily decent person most of the timeand is a primarily innocent party in most things. One who goes through a Lot.

If you really think about it Grian's moral compass isn't too far off normal basic human morality. He's often anxious and hesitant when faced with any involvement in criminal activity, he's frequently dismayed and offput by suggestions of violence (the less deserved the more dismay is expressed as well), he's disappointed and frustrated at seeing the people around him do fucked up things, he's almost always polite with a good head on his shoulders when faced with a kind or reasonable person. Even well into ts, long after first coming back to Japan, Grian is still incredibly uneasy and fidgety with the suggestion that he take part in violence, I mean, remember that time he, Taurtis, and Sam were tasked with killing Geode and Grian not only initially tried to refuse outright but then checked in shakily with the other two multiple times just to confirm if they were really going to kill someone. Grian's typically the character most likely in the entire series to be incredibly put off by and very hesitant about doing bad things (especially to people he's not one million percent certain deserve it).

And while one could argue that we can't really praise his moral compass for being hesitant about involving himself in crime/wrongdoing when he often ends up participating anyways. Actions speak louder than words and all. However I disagree. The fact that Grian vocally does not wish to be involved in this kind of thing and has proven to behave on the more reasonable and polite side when acting independently in relation to likewise level headed people....is Very important. In fact, in actual legal cases, oftentimes a factor in trying individuals is the question of whether they would commit the crime in question indepently or under normal circumstances. This is the basis for necessity, duress, and insanity pleas, amoung other's. People who would not act the way they did in a certain scenario under normal circumstances are often liable to be judged favourably in their actions. In fact, speaking of duress pleas, Grian's got a pretty solid one for a lot of his actions. The times Sam or Yuki held a knife to his throat or the times police threatened to kill him if he doesn't comply with orders or any alike incidents. In cases where duress isn't applicable to Grian's behaviour there are oftentimes incidents in which an outright case for violence in self defense can be made. In fact, most of Grian's circumstances leave him very viable to be judged sympathetically on a legal standpoint. The fact that he was a minor, the fact that he had no apparent history of violence or crime, the fact that he was in a severely abusive relationship with a criminal and entering said relationship marked the start of any sort of criminal behaviour from Grian, any criminal behaviour from Grian always being in a group setting never lead by himself, the fact that he always clearly and openly protests when pulled into these group settings, the duress and self defense pleas that are applicable to pretty much all incidents in which he does engage. Which are also all factors that can and should be accounted for on. a moral basis as well, obviously. And like, Grian has a reputation for being arrogant, cynical, and rude or whatever, but he's really not. He very rightfully calls out other people's horrible bullshit and makes snappy remarks towards his abuser but that's the opposite of a problem and Grian's proven himself more than capable of reasonable civility towards reasonable people. Grian just isn't the selfish arrogant disrespectful criminal that he's sometimes implied to be and in fact he's largely innocent- or absolvable, if you'd rather- in most of the things levied against him. Grian's not a literal saint giving to the needy and taking care of orphans in his spare time but he's a decent guy overall???

And hey, speaking of that super abusive relationship Grian landed in. Let's not forget the impact of that situation. Sam was undoubtedly abusive towards Grian. He threatened Grian's life various times, he basically told Grian he was nothing compared to Taurtis, he shoved plastic down Grian's throat and laughed when he choked, he got Grian locked up in solitary confinement through complete lies just because he thought it'd be entertaining I guess, he forced Grian to kiss an abnormally large amount of people against his will (some of these instances sam recorded despite being asked not to), he himself tried to make out with Grian without consent while Grian was sleeping in his own private room, he forcefully dressed Grian up in feminine cosplay meant to be ~attractive~ complete with fake breasts, he lied to Grian about the gender identity of someone Grian dated as a joke (his words) and lightly mocked Grian afterwards, he locked Grian in a basement for three days straight and it's unclear whether or not he was planning to let him out anytime soon, he dragged Grian into a closet with school staff despite Grian's very vocal distress and discomfort then scolded Grian for considering reported it when this staff member made uncomfortable comments on the outfit Sam had forced Grian into, Sam offered to give Grian to another guy who made a similar uncomfortable comment later on as part of some trade, he consistently dragged Grian against his will into criminal activity whether by threatening him, tricking him into participating, or just altogether falsely implicatng him, amoung Many other things. And every step of the way Sam did his best to completely gaslight Grian. He used every gaslighting technique in the book. Telling blatant lies (for example, "i would never stab taurtis", "you are taurtis", "grian's crazy and he stabbed taurtis"), he denies doing shit to Grian that Grian knows damn well he did ("i would never stab taurtis"). He hard projected his bs onto Grian (from blaming grian for 'making' sam do awful shit sam did to claiming grian actually fullstop did the awful shit sam did). He was just constantly trying to turn people against Grian (convincing yuki and taurtis to back him up in calling grian a bad manipulative friend and insisting he needed to apologize for 'making' sam horrifically abuse him. arriving in the police station and instantly without hesitation telling them grian was crazy and dangerous and pinning his own crimes on grian. having taurtis back him up and help scold grian for getting mad about being locked in the basement for days). Telling Grian he's crazy (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident, the time sam kissed grian without his consent while he slept and grian got mad). Telling everyone else that Grian's a manipulative liar (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident again). Yknow. Gaslighting. Sam was just so unbelievably abusive. In like. Every possible way. Which adds a LOT of trauma to Grian. That on top of his parents abandoning him as a little kid too because we couldn't leave it at severe abuse.

Grian's not a bad person. And he's certainly a very sympathetic person. Which is why it would be hard to woobify yhs Grian. It would be hard to make a very sympathetic very sad character egregiously sympathetic and sad. His whole arc is getting abandoned by his parents, going to visit his friends, and getting violently abused and forced into a multitude of disturbing activities against his will for an extended period of time.

One could argue that sure Grian isn't a bad person and sure Grian's got a pretty sad life, but certainly a lot of people are guilty of making Grian more helpless and scared and generally 'pathetic' than he is in canon.

To which I reply...not really?

Grian already doesn't have half the fight response people ascribe to him throughout the series. That was a whole other post but honestly Grian's response to traumatic situations is very frequently to cave to them and he's got a much stronger submissive streak than people often admit. I mean, Grian was asked to dress up as his best friend who just got stabbed "to make things less awkward and make me feel better" and he did it within ten seconds of being asked without the others even needing to threaten him at all. Grian does express quite a bit of despair, fear, and submissive tendency in canon when faced with dangerous or traumatic situations. And while it's possible to go a bit too far with that if you consistently leave out the token fight entirely, I see people swing way too far un the opposite direction way too often. There's a reason Grian never actually killed Sam in canon. There's a reason Grian never made a serious attempt to get him arrested for his crimes. There's a reason Grian never just left. When Sam found Grian after he ran out of the gym during the Taurtis incident? Grian didn't lunge for Sam. There was no serious altercation between the two. Grian scrambled back and tearfully babbled platitudes while shoving plastic down his own throat on command. And even beyond that, a lot of the interpretations accused of making Grian too helpless/scared/'pathetic' are works that involve Grian processing trauma years after the fact. Which. Even if Grian was the most aggressive on edge fighter in the history of trauma responses during the traumatic events? People don't process their trauma after the fact the same way they instinctively respond in the moment. Even if Grian never shed a tear throughout any of the traumatic ordeals he experienced, it would be far from unrealistic behaviour for him to still process after the fact by panicking and sobbing his eyes out regularly. Which, again, Grian wasn't even all that fight oriented while it was happening so panic and tears isn't even super far removed from his actual in the moment responses let alone processing after-responses. It's just. It's really hard to "UwU" Grian tbh. He's a decent person, he went through hell (his own words actually), and he was never even really very effectively aggressive when he did. And while it's possible to dip too far into that territory, far more often I see things swung egregiously far in the other direction.

#yhs #yandere highschool #yhs grian

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