#you want to kill them for what they did to you or rather what your circumstances made you do to each other

[patchouii]

I’ll never get over how Will gave him the skankiest most arrogant little smirk right to the camera when he said “the charm being debatable”….. the tricky thing with the show is that we’re introduced to The Main Guy when his brain is already being affected with encephalitis (which Hannibal, of course, aggravates, and is then treated and cured while in the BSHCI in early S2). And where is your identity— both the one you present to the world and the one you consider closest to yourself— held? Along with your instincts, your smarts, your function and memories? Your BRAIN, of course.

And encephalitis hits all that like an electric mixer by inflaming the brain and exerting pressure, leaving someone in pain and vulnerable in all sorts of ways. If it was real life, the show would be over before the year or so of S1 ended because Will would’ve keeled over dead or been severely disabled as a result. But of course it’s fun and fiction, and Hannibal has always used real facts as inspirations rather than concrete things. After S1, Will’s empathy changes— there are no more nightmares, there’s no more uncontrolled factors. He has a remarkable (and fantastically fictional, of course) amount of conscious and selective control with his visualizations. So I definitely think that Will is closer to a pure, authentic version of himself in S2+ because of that, and sometimes I do wish everyone would recall that it was only during S1ep2, in his second or third session with his brand new FBI-appointed psychiatrist who knew his boss personally, where he said that he really wanted to go back to the field because killing Abigail’s father hadn’t really impacted him, and that he thought it felt good. That it felt powerful.

And then he chose to have more sessions with a psychiatrist who responded to that by saying that humans are made in God’s image, that killing is an act of God, and that we can certainly do as God does…… that just goes to show how he views things. If he’d had a proper psychiatrist, they’d have likely agreed with Chilton and marked him down as having some solid “dark triad” traits, if not a potential diagnosis. This isn’t to say that Hannibal’s influence didn’t matter either way in the end— it definitely did for both of them and their self-realizations and character progressions. Hannibal’s influence provided him with things to consider and understandably inflamed a sense of deep anger and a desire for violence in him.

I think that without their S1 story, it would’ve taken Will a lot longer to accept and wield those parts of himself openly, and it would’ve looked very different in terms of events. But it’s well established that he’d been buckling under the pressure of a lifelong ethos of what he should be like, feeding his darkness the scraps his empathy could scrape from crime scenes, and would’ve cracked and had his “becoming” eventually— or maybe made some other kind of harsh decision like ending his life.

the "diagnosis" Chilton gave Will during his trial was the one closest to the truth ("Will Graham has never been diagnosed. He won't allow anyone to test him. He has carefully constructed a persona to hide his real nature from the world. He wears it so well, even Jack Crawford couldn't see past it. (...) There is not yet a name for whatever Will Graham is.")

unlike Alana Bloom or Jack Crawford, he saw what a manipulator Will was and that in front of them he played a poor, confused, wounded bird ("(...) A particularly-manipulative one at that. Poor, confused, wounded bird for Agent Crawford and Doctors Lecter and Bloom. And for me, well, I get the psychopath's triumvirate: charm, focus and ruthlessness. The charm, of course, being debateable.")

he believed Will that Hannibal may be the Chesapeake Ripper and said Jack Crawford: "Hannibal once served me tongue and made a joke about eating mine. It's hard not to at least consider it.". Jack ignored him. (I think Jack was already planning some large-scale action against Hannibal, but that's a topic for another post)

he called Dr Lecter "Hannibal the Cannibal"

he understood that Will Graham was alive because Hannibal Lecter liked him that way

criticized Jack for letting Will and Hannibal get closer to each other and then leaving Will alone ("You dangle Will Graham and now you cut bait. You are letting Hannibal have him hook, line and sinker.")

when Jack expressed hope that the relationship between Hannibal and Will was one of those friendships that ends after the disemboweling, Chilton told him: "I would argue, with these two, that's tantamount to flirtation. Will is going to lead you right to him." and let's be real, he was right.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 5)

Agatha takes you back to her house after the realization that you may have been responsible for the recent murders

Word count: 5200

Warnings: murder, purposeful thumb dislocation, violence

A/N: this got so long so fast so I had to split this chapter into 2 parts so as of right now I'm planning for 3 more parts

You can’t stop your teeth from chattering as you slide into the passenger seat of Agatha’s car. She followed you back to the motel so you could leave yours there, her headlights shining onto you the entire time, reminding you that she was right behind you.

Her lingering presence is ominous, rather than comforting. You just can’t put your finger on why.  

You’re not cold. The opposite, really. Your body is running hot, perspiration gathering on your forehead, but you’re shaking like a leaf. She turns up the heat, but you immediately reach over and turn it off. 

“I didn’t do it,” you say, but you’re not even sure if you believe it yourself. 

Agatha snorts. “Still think you’re being framed by The Witch and Lady Death?” She asks, and your heart spikes. Rio and her have been talking. Perhaps this whole time. Does she also know her wife drugged you? 

“Maybe,” you try to argue, but you know it’s just false hope at this point. How would they have gotten his blood under your nails? 

But how could you have killed him? You were completely unconscious the whole time. 

The knife from your motel found at the crime scene. Rio washing your clothes and being secretive about what was on them. And now this. 

You know you used to sleep-walk, but is sleep-murder a possibility? 

“Why did you want me to see it first?” You question, now latching onto something else. Agatha is a detective, she should’ve called the rest of the squad as well as you. 

Does she know more than she’s letting on? 

I’m just curious about something is what Rio said as she watched you succumb to sleep. 

What is going on? 

Agatha’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and you’re momentarily distracted by remembering what they felt like inside you. Her fingers, Rio’s mouth, together? “Just wanted to see how you’d react,” she finally says, and it snaps you out of your fantasy about them. 

“Rio drugged me earlier,” you tell her, watching her face closely for any sign of recognition or confusion. 

She remains neutral. “Oh?” 

You grit your teeth. They are both so good at keeping their cards to their chests. “Neither of you think I’m being framed. You seemed pretty certain that the body from yesterday wasn’t from them, that it was someone new.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think I killed both of them?” 

You’re not capable of that. There’s no possible way you did. But you want to hear what she thinks. 

“I think,” she pauses to choose her words carefully. “I think that I believe you when you say you think you didn’t do it.” 

“I couldn’t have,” you say weakly, needing more than anything for it to be true. 

She glances at you with pity. “We all think we couldn’t. People can surprise you.” The look on her face matches the darkness outside. Is she speaking from experience? 

The drawer opens and your fingers wrap around the handle of one of the knives. 

“I didn’t do it,” you insist. 

You park by the woods and ask the first man you see for help finding your dog who ran into the trees. He’s wearing a flannel and pants, and has the most brilliant blue eyes. 

Agatha reaches over to pat your leg. 

The kitchen knife cuts his legs surprisingly well and he slumps back against the trees, blood rushing from his wounds. You get immense pleasure in watching the cerulean in his eyes fade. But it’s not enough. You want to send a message: a heart on his chest. A nod to the shape drawn on the sticky note from The Witch and Lady Death, and to their calling card. 

A whimper tears its way out of your throat and you clamp a hand over your mouth. Agatha hears it and looks over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, superstar?” 

Your head is spinning. Are these memories real, or not real? Is your mind playing tricks on you?

The femoral arteries were too quick, too easy. You need something more. It’s only too easy to lure this man into the woods. 

“I don’t know,” you gasp out. You’re hyperventilating now. You were supposed to protect this town, stop the killers, but instead, you became one. 

Plunging the knife into his throat sent a thrill like you’ve never felt before tingling down your spine. You drag it down, grunting with the effort, but the blood pours out and you’re breathless. The red on the white snow is almost angelic. 

What have you done? 

Memories, dreams, images, whatever they are, come rushing into your brain, almost completely overwhelming you. 

You killed them. 

Were you really unconscious, or were you just erasing the memories to protect yourself? 

But you were asleep, at least at first. Did you wake up and decide to go on a murder spree? How does that even happen?

“Pull over,” you demand. Agatha scoffs but you say it again, more sternly. Your entire body feels awful and you know what’s about to come. 

Thankfully she obeys, and the second her car screeches to a halt, you’re throwing open the door and barely making it two steps away before you double-over and retch, puking your guts out. It burns your throat and your lungs ache, but it feels like you’re cleansing your body.

Agatha quickly runs over to you and holds back your hair while you continue to vomit. She rubs gentle circles on your back and then you’re finally able to stand up and breathe normally. 

“Did you know after the first one?” You say, wiping your mouth and turning to face her. 

She shrugs, but there’s an affirmative glint in her eyes. “Figured you were bound to snap eventually. Didn’t realize how drastic it would be until Rio told me about the bloody clothes you had her wash.” 

You’d throw up again if there was anything left in your stomach. She 

But she’s not done yet. 

“And then we got the call about the body with all the blood and I had a hunch. But you not knowing anything gave me a bit of pause,” she admits, swiping her thumb on your lip affectionately. “Thought you were just a really good actor. But then you said you’d been sleeping for the past few hours, so I wondered.”

You cough, still tasting acid. Things still aren’t adding up. She fucked you after thinking you murdered someone? “Why didn’t you turn me in?” Not complaining exactly, but why have they been holding onto this? “Is that why Rio drugged me? She wanted to see if…I’d what? Murder someone else?” 

Agatha tilts her head back and forth, like she’s partly agreeing, and you back up from her, the gears in your brain turning. She gives you a look as if to say Really? and starts advancing towards you. You put your hands out to stop her and flinch, and she freezes. 

“If you’re feeling better, get back in the car,” she orders, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. She takes one more step and stops an inch away from you, eyebrow raised like she’s anticipating your next move, and you gulp before obeying. “Good girl,” she says in a low voice, closing the door on you, and you hate the way your body betrays you. 

She gets into the driver’s seat and locks the doors and it makes your heart lurch. Why do you feel so unsafe right now? 

The key gets turned in the ignition but the car won’t start. “Fuck,” Agatha swears, turning it again and again. Panic starts to climb and settle into every crack and crevice in your body; what if you have to spend the night with Agatha on the side of the road? 

What if you fall asleep and accidentally kill her? 

Is that something you do now? Can you just never sleep for the rest of your life? 

The engine finally clicks and turns on, just taking a bit longer in the snow. But Agatha is almost out of gas, so she pulls into the next gas station she finds on the way to her house. 

“Have you eaten?” She asks gruffly, something seemingly changed in the air between you. 

The moment she brings up food, your stomach grumbles. You can’t remember the last time you ate. Tony would kill you, if you had heard from him at all. It’s weird he hasn’t called you back yet. Unfortunately, you have been sleeping though. You’re not sure if he would be proud. 

Agatha gets out of the car and slams the door and you quickly scramble out too. “We’ll go get you something to eat after I’m done filling up.” 

“I can just run in now,” you offer, desperately needing a moment to yourself. You can’t breathe next to Agatha right now. 

She scoffs and presses the pump into her car. “You’re a mess, superstar. I can’t risk you confessing to her about what you’ve done, or worse.” 

You bite back a sarcastic comment, still weary of her mood shift, and you tap your foot until the pump stops. She follows you into the station, watching carefully as you pick up a slice of pizza from the hot food area. You snag a drink and walk to the cash register, where a woman is snapping her gum. 

“Hi,” you say politely, putting your stuff down. Agatha’s hot breath is on your neck. “Oh, and can I get these too?” You quickly slap down a container of cinnamon mints. 

She looks you up and down, and winks. “On the house,” she says and Agatha steps even closer to you. The cashier’s eyes flicker to her. “Anything for your mom?” 

Agatha practically growls behind you and yanks your head back by your hair so she’s able to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You try to pull away in shock, but she holds you there and slides her tongue into your mouth. You can still taste the little flap of skin from where you bit her when she fucked you. 

After she’s sufficiently stolen all the air from your lungs, she stops and grabs your pizza and drink from the counter. “Come, pet,” she says in a low voice that makes you hotly tingle all over and you make brief eye contact with the cashier, who looks severely taken aback. You wonder if you look as flushed as you feel. 

“Sorry about that,” you say sheepishly, face hot, and slap a ten dollar bill on the counter, scampering after Agatha. “What the fuck was that?” You call after her, and she whirls around, face contorted into something scary.

“Get. In. The. Car,” she demands, seething, anger radiating off her in waves and almost knocking you back. 

There’s silence the rest of the way to her house as you eat your pizza. It’s a cute two-story house, hedges trimmed neatly out front, and another car in the driveway. 

Your heart begins to race at the thought of seeing Rio again, at the thought of dealing with them together. 

What are you doing here? Are they going to blackmail you? What could they want from you? 

You trail Agatha to the front door and then into the kitchen, where Rio is trimming a bouquet of flowers in a vase. Yellow, blue, red, and a flash of purple. 

Brows furrowing, you try to get a closer look but Rio steps to the side, unknowingly blocking your view. 

“Hey, Aggie,” she says, her back still to you. The glimpse into domesticity and the nicknames makes you feel a longing pang inside you. 

In the past, girls had been too put off by your line of work, by your fascination with female serial killers, even by the scar on your stomach. You just wanted someone that could accept every part of you. 

Agatha walks over, leaving you standing awkwardly in the entrance, and presses a kiss to Rio’s cheek, murmuring something in her ear. Rio’s body stiffens and she turns around, a wide grin stretching over her face when she sees you. 

“Welcome, doll,” she says and you fight the urge to run away. She motions to a fresh batch of cookies cooling on the stove. “Want one?” 

You don’t budge. “Did you poison them too?” 

Rio’s head tosses back with a laugh and Agatha smirks bemusedly. “Touché,” Rio says, grabs one, and chomps on it. She brushes her hands free on the crumbs once she’s done and holds them up to show you that she didn’t lace them. 

“What am I doing here?” You ask, wanting to cut to the chase. There’s some ulterior motive, one you just don’t know of yet. 

Both of them beckon you to follow them into the living room. They sit on the couch and you sit in the chair facing them. 

“‘What am I doing here?’” Agatha mocks in a deep voice and you roll your eyes. 

Rio takes all of you in, eyes flicking up and down your body several times. “Such a trivial question. Why don’t you ask something better than that?”

You think about it for a moment. What do you really want to know? “Did I kill those men?” 

“Boring. Ask something you don’t already know the answer to,” Rio criticizes and your cheeks burn. 

“Why did I?” It comes out quieter than you intended, your voice breaking. 

The two of them finally look interested. “Why do you think?” Rio asks, ever the therapist. 

“I…don’t know,” you say lamely.

Agatha snorts. “Come on, superstar, we know you’re smarter than that. Use that brilliant brain of yours.”

Knife from the drawer. Slicing through fabric to cut the arteries. Hearing a squelching sound when you plunge it into the chin. 

Blood.

More blood. 

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

You jolt. Fire? “I think…” You trail off, feeling shaken by the new revelation. Is the fire something that happened in the past, or something that’s about to come? 

“Yeah?” Agatha whispers, leaning forward. 

You try to search your head for the answer. “I think I wanted to know what it felt like,” you say slowly, testing the words on your tongue, still not completely sure if they’re right. 

You’re remembering more of the murders, remembering being in a trance-like haze when you woke up, getting into your car, coming back to the room after, stripping naked from the bloodstained clothes and scrubbing your skin in the shower until it stung. And then laying back down. 

Some sort of psychosis? Or just your unconscious mind fulfilling one of your darkest fantasies? 

Rio’s breath hitches. “And? How did it feel?” 

“It felt…powerful,” you say, and you know what the feeling in the woods with Agatha was now. It was the feeling of taking in your own work, seeing what you had done, somehow remembering the feeling even when you didn’t remember doing it. 

Agatha licks her lips, her eyes dark. “Holding their life in your hands, it’s a sensation like no other. That control makes you feel like a god, doesn’t it?” 

The way she phrases it sounds like she knows how it feels. How could she? 

Can you brush it off to her being a detective? Surely she’s had to make a decision like that once in her career, but there’s a nagging in the back of your mind that is sounding alarm bells. 

You cautiously look back and forth between them, between their faces with an indescribable hunger, and things start to come together. 

The Witch and Lady Death. 

Lovers, two brunettes, one thinner and taller, the other shorter and fuller. Just like Rio and Agatha.

Both Agatha and Rio were so convinced that there was a different killer. 

Both Agatha and Rio knew that you killed someone, even before you did, yet neither of them made any effort to get you in trouble. 

If anything, they pushed you to do it again. 

Rio said she wasn’t The Witch, but you hadn’t asked if she was Lady Death. 

Which means…

Agatha is The Witch. Rio is Lady Death. And you’re in their home, with both of them.

It’s ingenious though, really. Being the lead detective on a case trying to catch yourself, able to throw a wrench into any leads that the squad may happen to get. 

That must be why she was so nitpicky with all your theories. She knew all the right details the entire time.

Although, it never really seemed like she was shooting you down, it was almost like she was guiding you. 

Did she want you to catch them?

And Rio, being your therapist to find out more about you, get inside your head and understand how the profiler on their case thinks. 

You’d almost be impressed if you weren’t scared for your life right now. 

The only question is: why? 

Why murder all those people? Why break into your motel room and leave you all that stuff? Why help you in catching them, if that’s truly what they’ve been doing? 

Why not just kill you already? Unless that’s what they’re planning on doing tonight. 

“Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” You ask, praying they can’t hear how fast your heart is beating. 

They’re both regarding you with careful looks. “Second door on the left,” Agatha says, pointing down a hallway. You nervously smile and try to walk normally out of sight. 

Just make it to the bathroom, you chant. Then you can text Tony, text the police chief, text anybody. If you can keep up the pretenses, you might be able to hang on until reinforcements come. 

But as you’re walking by the first room on the left, you see that the door is ajar ever the slightest. 

You shouldn’t. You should go to the bathroom and get help. You absolutely should not open this door. 

It creaks as you push it open and you stop breathing, waiting to hear footsteps or one of them asking if you’re okay. 

Nothing. 

The door is open just wide enough for you to slip in now, and you can’t help the loud gasp that escapes your mouth. 

Purple azaleas are in a vase on the table, along with vials upon vials. Information about every single person in Westview on one wall, red circles highlighting either victims or a list. 

But what’s most startling is the shrine they have for you on the big wall. Pictures of you, case files, every piece of information accessible that concerns you is plastered there. 

They know exactly who you are. They’ve known. 

Fighting the nausea that climbs into your throat, you step closer. There’s something that draws your attention in the bottom left area, a medical record with your name on it from Salem, Massachusetts almost fifteen years ago. You don’t remember ever being in the hospital when you lived there. 

You bend down to see what it says and 

Snow. 

The frozen creek. 

Laughter and red birds when you step on a stick. 

The person whirls around, long dark hair flipping with the momentum, blue eyes cutting through the darkness. 

Fire. Sparks fly and land at your feet, hissing in the snow. 

“Well, well, well,” a voice says behind you and you spin so fast you almost fall over. Agatha and Rio are standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess the secret’s out.”

But you don’t care about that. 

Because the woman from your memory has a name now. 

“It was you,” you accuse, jabbing a finger towards Agatha. The face in the flashes was a bit younger, but you’d know her anywhere now. 

A cold feeling sinks into you when she bares her teeth in a smile. “I see my wife’s techniques have been efficient.” 

Your head starts to pound. “How…?” 

“Why don’t we go back into the living room and we can talk about this?” Rio suggests gently. 

“So you can kill me?” You spit, completely disoriented. How did you know Agatha fifteen years ago? Why didn’t you remember? 

What did she do to you? 

Agatha scoffs. “Really, you think if we wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be dead already? Honey, we could’ve had your heart the instant you stepped into town.” 

Your hand grabbles at your belt, trying to grab onto the gun that isn’t there. 

Fuck. 

You ran out of your room in such a hurry earlier that you forgot to grab it. 

“So what do you want from me?” You ask, trying to sound even the slightest bit braver than you feel. You fail. 

“We want you to join us,” Rio says, being uncharacteristically straight forward. “We see you and what you’re capable of. We’ve known it. We want you, all of you.” 

You shake your head. “No, absolutely fucking not. You two are crazy. I don’t know how you know me, or what happened in the woods all those years ago, but I would rather die than kill more people with you.” 

They both sigh like they were afraid you’d say that. They start to walk over to you and you feel prey being stalked, being hunted. 

“What are you–” 

Agatha shushes you. “You’re just confused, superstar. But don’t worry. We’ll give you some time to think about it.” 

And then they grab you and drag you kicking and screaming upstairs into their bedroom. 

This is it. This is how you’re going to die. 

“Wait, wait!” You scream as they throw you onto their bed. “I’ll do it.” You can pretend, you can make them think you want it until you can get out. 

Rio bends over and grabs your chin, scanning your teary eyes. “Oh, doll, you’re an FBI profiler and you’re still such a bad liar,” she tuts, roughly pushing your face away. 

Your body goes numb while they stretch your arms out and pull handcuffs – real handcuffs – from the nightstands and cuff you to the bedposts. 

Agatha smirks and waves the key in front of your face and you snap at it with your teeth. She chuckles darkly and puts it on the nightstand, just out of reach. 

“We’ll be back later, pet,” she says. “We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them, and then The Witch and Lady Death are going to strike again.” 

Rio cackles and then picks up the bottom half of her skeleton mask and holds it to her face, widening her eyes at you. You strain against the handcuffs until they sting your wrist but you don’t stop struggling as they walk out of the room and close the door behind them. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You are absolutely reeling. You met Agatha when you were ten years old. Something happened, something with fire? And the medical file from then, is that related? 

It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here now, working on a case in which she’s a killer. 

What happened that made you want to think like a killer? It’s the question that Rio asked when you first met her, that she swore she didn’t but now you think she was just fucking with you. 

You didn’t know the reason, couldn’t remember it at the time, but that was what made you start having these flashes of repressed memories. 

Is Agatha the reason? 

Did you see her kill someone at ten years old, but then your brain blocked it out because it was too traumatic? And then you spent the rest of your life determined to figure out what made her do that? 

It seems to make sense. 

It still doesn’t answer the real question as to what they want with you, and why they went through all this trouble. 

But you’re not going to find anything else tied up in their bed. 

The Basic Field Training Course at Quantico taught you several important things, like how to fire a gun and how to read a person’s posture and how to solve a case. But perhaps the most valuable lesson to you now was learned from a classmate, who taught you how to dislocate your thumb. 

Jimmy Woo had dislocated his thumb twice during lacrosse in high school so he could now do it whenever he wanted. It still hurt obviously, but the damage was less serious, it was easier to dislocate, and it was much easier to pop back in. 

All it took for him to teach you was a six pack of beer. You didn’t know exactly why you were so set on being able to, but you couldn’t be happier now. 

You remember the first time you did it. It had taken four shots of vodka to get your courage up before bending it back on a table. The ligaments had strained, not wanting to give, but through sweat and tears, you had persisted. 

Jimmy immediately took you to the clinic to get it wrapped up and you told them you had done it while throwing a ball with Jimmy. 

You’d only done it a few more times, but it got to the point where you could do it with minimal crying and could relocate it by yourself. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you duck your chin down to grab ahold of your sweater between your teeth to have something to bite down before positioning your left thumb against the bedpost. Better to do it with your non-dominant hand, Jimmy always said. 

You can almost hear him encouraging you as tears spill down your cheeks and your whimpers are muffled. 

Pressing harder, a slight sheen of perspiration breaks out on your head. Fuck, you’d forgotten how much it hurts. 

Finally, finally, there’s the desired pop and pain floods up your hand. It almost entirely overwhelms you and 

Snow. 

Frozen creek. 

The woman turns toward you and looks surprised to see someone else in the woods with her. 

She waves to you and you’re pulled forward by an invisible string. When you get closer to where she’s partially hidden by shadows, you see she’s not alone. 

A younger woman with pale skin, dark hair, and wide hazel eyes. 

But there’s another woman too. 

The throbbing in your thumb pulls you out of the flashback. 

Rio.

Rio was there, too. You’ve met both Agatha and Rio before.

But you don’t know who the other woman is; you didn’t even get a good look at her. 

Focus on that later, you tell yourself, whining as you gingerly pull your hand out of the cuff. You lean over and snatch the key off the nightstand and quickly unlock the other cuff. It hurts like hell to use your dislocated thumb to turn the key, but you don’t know how else you’d use it. You take another slow, deep breath before popping that thumb back in. 

After moving it around and massaging it to get the blood flowing back in, you scramble off the bed and run downstairs. 

You need to go back to your motel room and get your gun, not even bothering to look and see if they have any, but first you need to go back into their room downstairs and see if there’s any hints about where they might be going. 

It appears that all the photos that have red circles on them are past victims, so you have absolutely no idea where they might be. 

You’re about to leave the room and go back to the motel when you remember the medical file from Massachusetts. It looks like they have pictures of a copy; how would they even get that? 

But you bend down to read it and a searing pain splits through your forehead. It hurts so bad it forces your eyes shut and you’re only able to comprehend a few words and phrases. 

Hypothermia…18 hours in the snow. 

Pneumonia. 

Head-induced trauma caused retrograde/post-traumatic amnesia. 

The pain in your head brings you to your knees as you try to make sense of the record. You remember learning about types of amnesia in your psych classes, and retrograde means you can’t remember things that happened before the accident. 

Is that why there’s a block? Or is it because of something you saw in the woods? 

Nothing is adding up. 

Why didn’t your parents ever tell you about this? Is this the reason you left Salem so quickly? 

The throbbing in your head has leveled down to a dull ache and you’re able to stand up. This is all connected somehow, you just don’t know how. 

What you do know is that you need to find them and stop them. 

You dig around the drawers in the kitchen to find a set of keys to Rio’s car, you’re guessing, and you’re peeling out of their driveway, not even caring about the speed limits. You blow through stop signs and red lights, but it’s late enough that no one else is on the road. 

Throwing the car into park once you get back to the motel, you shoulder open the door to your room and come to a halt. 

It’s the smell that hits you first. 

A sickly sweet honeysuckle scent wafts into your nose and you almost retch. Purple azaleas litter the floor in a path from the front door to the bedroom door, candles lit on both sides like a romantic rendezvous. 

They were already here. How could they have known you’d come back? Are they in the other room? 

Heart pounding, you gulp before reaching for your gun on the table and cautiously stepping toward the bedroom. You close your eyes and say a little prayer that you’re not about to be killed, and you kick it open. 

There’s more azaleas, and enough candles to perform a ritual. Your gaze scans the room, breaths getting shorter and shallower. 

And then you see the bed and your hands clamp over your mouth in order to smother the cry that comes out involuntarily. 

It’s the woman from the gas station, sprawled out like a starfish, completely naked from the waist up. There’s a lace from one of your pairs of shoes wrapped tightly around her neck, face tinted blue. 

Your body violently shakes as you walk over to her and you see her chest. 

The letter “O” is carved around her right breast. The letter “U” around her left. “R” is carved into the right side of her stomach, and “S” into the left. 

OURS. 

We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them. 

Ignoring the heat running through your body, you spot a notecard clenched in her hand and you wrench it out. 

On one side, it says: Sorry, baby. Xoxo. On the other side, there’s an address. 

You know it’s a trap, like this right here was, and like everything else may have been, but what choice do you have? 

Your fingers tighten on your gun and you get back into Rio’s car, punching the location into your phone. 

This ends tonight. 

[4rk4n4]

What gets me is that the second time Vander puts his hands around Silco’s neck, he does so impulsively - turning quickly to grab the threat at his back who he didn’t quite know was Silco. When he meets Silco’s terrified eyes, he softens his grip and frowns just before Silco stabs him in the gut. Even as he is dying in his enemy’s hands, he rests his forehead against Silco’s as if to say so many things he couldn’t verbalize with that one act before Silco shrugs him off, coming down from the adrenaline rush of facing his greatest fear and perhaps, his would be greatest love falling away from him.

Vander could’ve killed him right there. Broken his windpipe. Bashed him against the rails. Dropped him into the growing fire below. He didn’t, because he didn’t want to revisit the worst part of himself. Despite all of the horrible things Silco was putting him and his family through, Vander knew this all began because of his actions. It is in that moment that I think Vander truly atones for what he did, and it makes Silco’s revenge against him less satisfying. Silco goes from seeking justice for himself to checking off killing Vander on a list of things he thinks he has to do to regain his power.

After everything, no matter how much power he attains, Silco is never truly happy ever again. I just think this is what’s truly tragic about both Vander and Silco. Neither of them could foresee a future where they could go back to the past. Vander couldn’t be the powerful leader and violent revolutionary he once was because he got too many people he cared about hurt, including Silco. Silco could no longer be the visionary that Zaun needed to be successful, because he had learned through violence that the only way he could be successful was to dispose of his enemies, acquire power, and compete rather than help his community thrive.

It’s so sad to see. Like a train going off the rails. How do you stop that? You can’t. You lean your forehead against a man you once shared a life with and feel his knife rip through you as you wordlessly say I love you I miss you I’m sorry. Everything hurts.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending Four: Little Omega

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes, blood

Note: This is very late and not very good, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! 

The zoo was bathed in a pale white under the glow of the full moon. You had never been here this late and you were beginning to believe it was a bad idea. The lions and hyenas had kept you, and you had to feed the wolves still.

The door to the exhibit creaked noisily as you opened it, carrying a bucket of steaks. You had to hurry, the zoo had already closed an hour ago. 

Unsurprisingly, Jack was waiting for you. He paced in front of the door and, when it opened, he turned to face you with childlike excitement.

You laughed at his expression and pulled a steak out of the bucket, handing it over to him. “Look, Jack, I have to be fast tonight…”

Jack looked offended.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you guys,” you reassured him, “I’m just running late.”

You peered around the clearing, not surprised to see it deserted, “Where are the other wolves then? Are they in the woods or down by the river?”

Jack looked startled, “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me what?” you blinked, confused.

Staring at the ground as though thinking something over, Jack finally said, “I take you to them. Follow me.”

“Okay!” you said cheerfully. You held the bucket in both hands as you followed Jack into the woods.

You were a little nervous to face the other wolves again. They didn’t seem to like you much, but you secretly trusted Jack to defend you if necessary.

The trek through the woods was a long one, since you kept tripping over exposed tree roots the deeper in you got. Finally, it opened up into a clearing overlooking the river.

“What the hell happened here?”

Copious amounts of blood coated the tree trunks, the large rock, and the grass of the clearing. The grass itself was soaked in it, turned entirely red in patches. There were streaks of blood as if something was dragged and the rock had an ominous dark patch as though someone’s head had been bashed against it.

You stared at the horrifying display, unable to scream like you so desperately wanted to due to the lack of air in your lungs. Seeing all the red made you feel as though the air had been punched out of you.

“Jack, what happened?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jack stared blankly at you, “They hurt you.”

“SO YOU KILLED THEM?” you screamed.

Jack looked like a kicked puppy, his ears flat against his head as he ducked, as though afraid you might hit him. A surge of guilt ran through you before you remembered what he did.

“This is insane,” you murmured, “Are all of them dead?”

“Yes,” Jack replied.

It was all so brutal… you felt yourself shutting down, gasping for breath as though there was little oxygen left in the air. Jack did this? Sweet Jack who followed you around like a lost puppy?

“Are you going to kill me?” you whimpered.

His eyes went wide, “No!”

Tears began to flow freely from your eyes and you let out a small sob. Sure, you hadn’t liked the other wolves much, but to think they were all dead…

“I need to go,” you whispered, dropping the bucket of steaks and running blindly back through the woods. You tripped over a tree root and went sprawling across the grass. To your horror, even here there were streaks of blood inches from your face, as though someone had been injured but tried to escape.

You picked yourself back up, feeling sick, and ran across the clearing to the exhibit door. You pulled hard on the handle but it refused to move. Suddenly, the floodlights to the zoo turned off, bathing you in moonlight alone.

Someone’s doing this. You realized quickly. It’s an electric lock, so someone manually locked the door from the control center.

Tearfully, you turned around and found yourself face to face with Jack. He looked like Christmas had come early.

His large hand took your smaller one into his own, his claws carefully moved out of the way so they did not scrape your skin. He examined your hand closely, intrigued by what he saw.

“Omega,” he supplied eagerly.

“Huh?”

“My little omega,” he crooned, a look on his face you’d never seen before. His pupils were dilated, eyes wide open, and a little drool ran down his chin. He leaned in close, trapping you against the door, and took a deep sniff of your scent.

“Mate,” he said, “My mate.”

“Jack, let me go,” you demanded as you tried to extract your hand from his tightening grip. But it was far too late, he had gone positively feral. His tail wagged and his ears were pricked, his dilated pupils trained on your face.

Suddenly, he lunged forward, sinking his fangs into your neck. You screamed like a banshee in both pain and surprise. You tried to push him away, but his fangs only sunk deeper. You wept bitterly, unable to push him off of you.

“My mate,” Jack pulled free of your neck and grinned down at you with bloody teeth, “Your turn.” He tilted his head to give you free access to his own neck.

Some sort of weird mating ritual… you realized quickly. You opened your mouth and pointed at your teeth, “I don’t have fangs, Jack.”

Jack didn’t look particularly bothered by this fact and merely reached down and picked you up, ignoring your squeak of fear. He held you like a baby, curling his claws into your skin, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to give a warning.

He headed back through the forest and entered a cave near the civilians’ path. It had one glass wall, so guests could see into the massive cave.

Come morning, they’d see one wolf and one broken human resting inside.

[stvrnioloslvt]

bestfriends? - matt sturniolo

genre: fluff / t.w.: none / check masterlist to keep reading ficmas '24 fics / pt.2 here

③

yells echoed through the house as the triplets were playing on stream, loud bangs heard from below you as chris lost a life in the game, hitting the desk in frustration.

you were sprawling on their couch, a blanket wrapped around you while you watched a film on the tv. your ears perked up as nick's yelling seemed to break the barrier of sound, making you chuckle.

despite not wanting to interrupt them, you couldn't help but be curious to witness the scene yourself in first person, checking out what all the commotion was about. you knew they wouldn't have any problem with you joining them, and the viewers kinda knew you already as matt's bestfriend, but they weren't always welcoming and you feared their reaction.

you sighed, trying to keep your eyes and ears trained on the tv, but you couldn't help yourself from getting distracted every few minutes. in the end, you decided that you had enough — no one should command your life, not even your fear. and that's how you found yourself looking for your phone, unlocking it and going immediately to matt's number.

❛❛dumbass💙❞

can i come in? wanna see what you up to

yeah sure thing

you tossed the blanket aside, stretching your numb limbs before checking your reflection in the mirror. you were already all dolled up, waiting for your friend to text you the meeting spot for your hangout. the only problem was that you were ready a good half an hour ago, and your friend had just woken up from their daily nap, which led you to have to find a way to kill time.

just then, another ping echoed in the room. you snatched your phone from the couch, seeing a notification from matt.

❛❛dumbass💙❞ ②

bring me a Dr.pepper

pretty pleaseee :)

you shook your head, opening the fridge and retrieving the drink requested by the boy. you also poured him a glass of water, hoping that it may wash out all the crazy chemicals and sugar he ingested through those shit-tasting drinks.

you headed towards his room, pushing the door open with your hip, placing the liquids on his desk, careful not to spill any drop.

"chat, say hi to y/n," he exclaimed, patting you behind the knee to signal you to bend slightly so that you were completely in frame. you did as requested, waving and smiling happily to the camera while your bestfriend opened his can with his teeth, winching in pain when the lid scraped his lip.

"are you serious?" you asked rhetorically, sitting down on the edge of his bed. you reached for his chair, pulling him back so that he would be closer to you. you spun him around, inspecting the little bloody scratch on his lower lip, finally commenting with a sarcastic "oh no yeah, this is definitely a red code." and then, turning towards the screen you called his brother: "yo chris, get in the car your brother needs your F1 pilot skills."

just then you noticed the viewers going crazy, swarming the chat with comments about this little interaction that was so normal to you and the guys, but so new for them. a comment in particular caught your eye, making you blush:

@chrisleftball: am i the only one sensing some tension? matt's looking at her funny

you turned around rather flustered, straightening your back, trying to act like nothing had happened. matt's hands reached towards you, pulling you up to your feet so that you could stand beside him while he played. your hand naturally went for his nape, your fingers gently scratching him just as he liked.

you were aware that you two's interactions weren't always what bestfriends would do, a lot of times being teased by chris and nick about acting all lovely like couples do and "needing to get a room".

you couldn't lie, more times than not their teasing only fed your delusions, but you knew that it wasn't safe for you to step up — a small risk could cost a big loss, and you weren't ready for that yet.

you jumped startled as a notification from your phone brought you back to earth, your friend finally telling you were to go after almost an hour of waiting.

"i have to go, i'm meeting up with a friend," you told him, caressing discreetly his hair to say bye to him. "bye chat! i have to go now i'm sorry... have fun! oh and matt, drink some fucking water please — i love you!" and just like that you were out of his room, sprinting towards the front door.

if only you had stayed a couple more seconds you would have noticed your bestfriend's cheeks color of a rosy tint, his hand flying to his mouth to cover a smile that he was trying so hard to bite back, failing.

somewhere, imprinted forever on the internet, a lonely comment was drowned out by the others:

@user56439721: bestfriends?

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

❃ a.n: merry christmas everybody, I wish you happy holidays and a shit ton of happiness🎄✨️

love, bree ☾

taglist: @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn 🤍

[sold2vlaykz]

I love you more than you do.

(Yandere Millionare E/Ex X GN reader!)

Prompt: Your older E/Ex bf can not get over you, has not and tonight he’s come back to claim you as his!)

Warning!! Mild angst, stalking, CNC kiss, towel nudity mentioned, loser reader!, word pretty mentioned, older male yandere.

It was late, you usually did things like this. Stayed up all night despite having school/work tomorrow, you’d spend hours on social media, discord, just because you had nothing better to do with your life.

Your relationship with your family was backwards, sometimes they loved you next they did not.

He hated seeing you sad, the tears rolling down your face as they belittled you. Belittled his sweet little girl.

He wanted to kill them, rip their throats out.

But he couldn’t because he knew it’d hurt you, despite the luxury of a life he could’ve given you after he knew that your pure heart wouldn’t have accepted it.

“I fucking hate this shit.”

You cursed at yourself, arguing with some nobody online while he watched you from your window a gift in hand.

Of course he could’ve watched you from the cameras but it was never better than the real thing.

Of course he’d deal with who you were arguing with later, whoever it was, was soon to be dead on a platter.

But tonight was all about you.

Tonight was the night, the night you’d see him.

You stood up, closing your phone before rubbing your temples and heading to the bathroom. He stood there for a second, waiting maybe a minute or five before he heard the shower water begin to run.

He climbed up the rails into your bedroom window , being quick to hide himself away in a closet.

Your family was away, everyone had something better to do than to be in the house with you.

The smell of you surrounded the room, he’s ashamed to say but it made him horny. He’s only ever been this close to put the cameras in or steal things.

Minutes flew by and there you were. Standing in all your glory in a towel.

Before you dropped it he stepped out, your eyes went wide in surprise as a scream left your lips. It wasn’t long before he covered your mouth with his gloved hand.

He pressed his gun to your back, a smile crept to his face as you trembled.

“Another word and I’ll blow your shit straight off.”

He was lying through his teeth, he couldn’t kill you. God he’d rather kill himself but hey you didn’t know that.

You nodded quickly, his hand slowly moving away from you.

He picked you up and placed you on your bed, careful not to drop the towel. His hands traced your face, then your towel slowly unraveling it.

He didn’t want to fuck you, well not without your consent at least.

You began to cry, whimpers leaving your lips thinking that your dignity was about to be ripped away.

“No, shh. I’m not gonna’ do anything. Just wanna’ feel you.”

His voice was deep, rolled of the tongue so effortlessly.

His hands went down to your stomach, squeezing the skin just to get a feel, cupping your breast gentle, rubbing your thighs. With each move a whimper left his lips, as if he was getting off on just rubbing you.

“Who are you?”

Your voice was cracked and shaky, almost a whisper despite no one being home.

“I’m your husband.”

He spoke blankly, your eyes widened at the golden ring on his finger. You were confused, maybe this was all just a bad dream. None of it made sense.

Well at least not to you, to him you were married. He got your parent’s signature on a contract not too long ago, they were all drunk after a party and stupidly signed a paper not knowing what it was.

Now you were his, all nude and pretty. Sitting there just for him.

He opened your laptop, immediately faced with the discord screening.

He grabbed your hand before pulling you softly towards him, sitting in a chair while pushing you into his lap.

“Won’t be needing this anymore”

You watched him factory reset your whole computer, everything erased. Your whole lonely loser life, crushed.

You didn’t want to seem phased despite the shake in your bones. He looked up at you, looking you in your eyes as if waiting for a response.

“Why are you doing this.”

You heard him groan at your question, before snatching your phone from in the desk. He clicked on your messages before going to the deleted.

“Mm, baby you really don’t remember me?”

He went on a number that was at the very bottom of the list, before recovering all that was gone.

With you on his lap and one hand on your thigh he began to scroll, thousands of messages from almost three years ago. By the looks of it, he was some guy you used to E-date. Until you inevitably blocked him because of the age difference between you two, the jealousy, and possessiveness-despite how much he evidently cared for you.

“All of this, and then you left me.”

His grip tightened, jaw clenched.

The balls to come here without a mask, knowing he wouldn’t have got caught. His gun on the opposite side of you, he just kept staring at it.

“But I forgive you, you couldn’t have done it on purpose.”

A lie he told himself, he began to dig into his pocket. Whatever it was had a circular shape. And god you hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. In the midst of all his shuffling he pulled out a ring.

As much as you hated to say it, it was beautiful.

Covered in diamonds with a ruby in the middle, gold decorating the rims.

“I remember how you said you loved the color red, despite it being a last ditch effort to have a favorite color like everyone else did.”

Considerate, despite the breaking and entering, the threats, the gun. He already had the contract, all he needed was your finger.

His eyes stared like daggers into yours, gray stubble decorating his clean cut facial hair.

“Marry me. Just like we promised all those years ago.”

You could tell it wasn’t a question, it’s either you said yes or you thought he’d blow your fucking head off. When in reality if you said no he would’ve just stalked and harassed you until you had no choice but to say yes. Or kidnapped you-

“Do I have to?”

He froze, nails practically digging in your skin through the gloves.

He picked up the gun before pressing it to the side of your ribcage.

“Do you?”

Is all he said his voice a low growl. A soft yes left your lips, and all was subsided. A smile grew wide on his face from ear to ear as if he didn’t have a gun to you.

“I knew you loved me.”

He placed a kiss on your neck, eyes full of absolute joy. He put the gun down and grabbed your face, facing you toward him. Devilishly handsome with the mind of a psychopath.

“Do you know how much I’ve done to get here, from killing your boyfriend, murdering your teacher, even killed that celebrity you were obsessed with. Just to have you now sitting in my lap with a ring on both of our fingers.”

He kept covering you in soft kisses, you on the other hand trying hard to ignore the bulge in his pants.

“I’m sorry, it’s just your so pretty angel.”

Angel, that name ran through your mind like alarms. The day it fell down when he hacked your account and deleted every man from your phone.

“I’m sorry angel I just don’t know what got into me.”

You knew you were going to have passion marks, didn’t know how you were going to explain them to your parents.

“I love you.”

He kissed your lips, he stood up with you in his arms and placed on you the bed. Lips not daring to leave yours.

“Stop-” you mumbled out.

His eyes dropped, sadness filled them.

“It’s me sweetheart, your husband. All those times we said we wanted nothing more but to hold eachother.”

His hands made their way around your back and pulled you closer.

Nose to his area, making the size difference evident.

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up.

“You can’t run from me, even now if you call the police they won’t catch me and we’ll end up right here.”

He began kissing your neck softly once again, each kiss deepened. He dragged a moan from you despite you wanting to not enjoy it, he knew how to make you feel good.

“Does that feel good baby?”

He knew it did, you could hear his chuckling under your moans, under his slyness.

“We don’t gotta’ do anything. Just wanna’ kiss you.”

He brought his mouth back to your lips, and sadly. You kissed him back, God. You felt his hard on grow the more you kissed him, his loud moans and whimpering just by your subtle touch.

“Say it, say you love me.”

He stopped and looked at you with desperate eyes, despite what he’s done you know how much he’s done for you. The money he sent, the gifts he bought, the reassurance and pure love he gave.

“I love you.”

-“mm fuck.”

God he was getting off by just your words, he turned around and covered his face with his hand. Trying his hardest not to touch himself to your voice like he used to.

“I fucking love you, you don’t know what you do to me.”

He groaned before coming back towards you, innocently kneeling and putting his head in your lap like a lost puppy dog.

Covering your thighs in soft kisses. He dug into his other pocket before pulling out another ring more expensive than the already pricey one.

“I almost forgot, that one was for engagement.”

And you knew, you were in for a hell of a ride.

[totallynotasimp67]

Ghost x Combat Medic!Reader

I don’t feel like finishing this lmao, this was supposed to Goap/Reader but like I said I don’t feel like finishing this, enjoy I guess

Also, I didn’t actually do any research into the cyanide thing I just remember it from a Wonder Woman movie, I also used google translate for a singular word

*Gaol - Love

Not a clue if it actually means that and I don’t really care lol

~~~~~~~~

“Ghost, How Copy?” The coms device crackles in the Lieutenants ear

“All good over here”

There a slight pause as Ghost ponders why you contacted him from base camp

“Ahh, good, there’s been a minor situation back here”

Ghost freezes, did one of his soldiers get hurt, did Johnny get hurt, did you get hurt, questions flood his mind but you speak before he can

“One of the enemy tried to play recon, tried to see what we had, was a fool that one”

Shit, Ghost thought, his favorite medic, though he wasn’t sure of his feelings, was in danger, he had to get there fast

“Stay hidden, I’ll be there soon… did you say ‘tried’”

“Aye, he’s currently out cold and tied to a chair, although I can’t say the bindings are the greatest, used what what was lying around”

A wave of relief washed over the Lieutenant as he allowed a sigh of relief pass his lips

“Hold your position, if I can’t to you myself I’ll make sure another soldier can”

He hated the thought of you being taken care of by another soldier but he hated the thought of you being hurt or worse more

“Aight, I’m almost finished my ‘examination’ last thing is his mouth”

Ghost wanted to question why you were ‘examining’ the enemy, he couldn’t dwell on it too long he had to get over there as soon as possible

“Soap. How copy?”

“Second floors clear L.T. ye need somethin’” Soap questions

“Sorta, one of the enemy slipped by and is being held back at base camp”

Soap understands now, Ghost’s worried about you, Soap had spared with you a few times per your request, he knows your rather strong but he knew that before you asked to spar, you treated wounded soldiers on and off the field, holding them down or dragging their limp body was nothing new to you, Soap knew it, surely Ghost did too, maybe the rational part of his mind wasn’t working, only caring for your safety

“Aye, all most finished ‘ere, scan the grounds make sure no one slips by then head back, be done soon ‘nough”

Good, he can go to you and not some random solider

“Loud an clear”

Scanning the surroundings for anyone, but only bodies littered the ground, a sigh of relief, Simon can go and make sure you’re alright and not alone with the enemy regardless of if their tied up or not

“s’all clear, nothin’ but bodies” Ghost grumbled into the coms device

“Aye, almost done ‘ere, go check on yer gaol*”

Simon rolled his eyes at John’s comment, not that anyone could see, the sentiment was still there

“Ye can tell me what that means later”

“Haha, not a chance, ye’ll try and kill me”

——— Back at Base Camp ———

Humming to no one in particular as it was only you and the unconscious combatant

“Hhhmm, I wonder what secrets you hold,” your pondering interrupted when your coms crackle

“Fangs, how copy”

It was Ghost, he must be almost done

“All clear, captive doesn’t have any on him that could compromise us or him,”

So that’s what you meant by ‘examination’

“Although he could stand to have visited the dentist more often”

“And why do you know that, ya know what jus tell me when I get there”

Giggling “alright, when will you get here”

“Soon”

That’s all you heard before the coms went silent, guess you’ll have to sit by your lonesome at base camp

‘Base camp’ wasn’t all that bad of a building, it was really just a safe house that Ghost, Soap, yourself and a handful of other soldiers would return too once all necessary targets were eliminated, and the information was secure, looking at your watch it had been almost an hour since the others should have infuriated the target building, they shouldn’t be gone for too much longer, if Ghost comes back alone you’ll have to ask where the others are

The soft crunching of boots on dried leaves let you know someone is approaching, keeping out of sight from whom ever walks through the door, be it Ghost or any of the other boys or another enemy looking for their missing comrade, having decided to not take any chances

One hand the standard issue pistol, the other ready to call for back up, bracing for whoever’s on the other side, friend or foe, the door cracks open at first as if the one opening it is worried about an ambush, opening it the rest of the way having not seen you on the initial opening Ghost calls out

“FANGS! Where are you?!” Worry lacing his voice, he hadn’t seen you on his first scan of the room before him, worried someone might have come for their comrade and for you

Stepping out of the door way you hid in “no need to shout, ‘m right here”

The sight of you unharmed has Ghost relaxing a bit “good, where’s the guy you subdued?”

“Also what about that comment ‘bout ‘im needing to see a dentist?”

“Oh, that,” motioning for Simon to follow “well, some context, before I became a medic I had, well I still have, quite the interest in execution and torture techniques”

“I don’t even need to see your face to know it says ‘what in the actual hell’ I’ve gotten that reaction before”

Shocked would be one way to explain how Simon felt, gob smacked even, you, the tiny(compared to him most everyone is tiny) kind and harmless person has such a morbid curiosity, one would expect something like that of Ghost himself, but you, it was almost impossible to imagine, something like plants and which ones could be used medicinally maybe, but execution and torture

Pulling Ghost from his thoughts you spoke, “well here he is, but one of the ‘execution’ techniques was a pill of cyanide in a false tooth, so when you get captured to avoid torture you’d break the pill and die”

“Now I know it’s not very common but, I feel the need to check anyway, because the one time I don’t check they’ll have it and boom, we’ve lost a source of intel”

Ghost has to admit though, your thoroughness could prove useful in the future, but now he was just glad you were safe

Wordlessly he checks the bindings on the captive, ensuring their strong enough to hold, he’d have to contact Price when the others go back, then he’s being pulled to the side by his shoulder

“You hurt? This can go the easy way where you just tell me or I strip your gear off and look myself”

Silence, frustrating silence, Simon couldn’t breathe or think let alone reply to your question, the seconds felt like an eternity, the thought of you pulling his tactical gear off and looking over his body with such care, Simon feels as if he could combust when he’s pulled out of his thoughts by your annoyed huff

“Looks like it’ll be the hard way” but before you can start removing Simons gear his hands grab your wrists preventing you from doing anything more

“‘M fine, wasn’t hurt”

“Haaa, ye didn’t say so because…” hoping he’d answer

“Was making sure you weren’t hurt, can’t have our only medic hurt now can we”

If you rolled your eyes any harder they’d roll right outta your skull

[simp-ly-writes]

The Assassin's Wife

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Charles "Jackal" Calthrop x Wife!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: To put it simply, you are the wife of Charles Calthrop having met him at a work event over a decade ago, your romance was story-book perfection up until when you learned he kills people for a living...

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, fluff and angst, scenes of stalking, blood, violence, injury, guns, and obsessive behaviours, hurt/comfort, arguments, swearing, lying, kissing, the Jackal being a ultra charismatic mf, Marissa (OC), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,570

─ · · A/N: post number 300! woohoo! soo... I kinda really loved this ask and wrote a whole bunch for it. Be ready for some fluff, angst, and then fluff again!

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─ · · You had been married to your husband, Charles, for well over a decade now. You had met him while attending a work event overseas, your job always had you traveling keeping you from starting any longterm relationships up until you met Charles that faithful night.

─ · · You remember the deep navy blue suit he wore with a light blue dress-shirt underneath. His accessories were silver and by the family signet ring on his finger, you knew him to be coming from wealth and to your surprise as he greeted you with a kiss to the back of your palm, he made his empire himself as he described to you over a few too many glasses at the bar.

─ · · Charles swept you off your feet that night with his lingering looks on your lips, the way he gently held your hand, interlacing your fingers before pulling you outside and to a cab. You remember his touch trailing up your thigh as you gasped at the back of the cab before clearing your throat and placing your head against his shoulder... much like the position you found yourself in currently as you watched your husband sleep, his arm snuggly around your side, head against his bare chest as you traced the various scars across it with curiosity.

Your husband explained to you the multitude of stories on how he obtained each scar and warp of skin as you kissed everyone the same; with love and attention as he had shown you. You simply adored how hard working he was, always away and coming back with that necklace you were eyeing in the market or a surprise vacation. But you couldn't help but miss him, want him with you, and you didn't know if that was selfish of you or not to want him with you constantly when he provided for you with utmost dedication.

─ · · But after so many years of gifts and hugs at the airport as you waved him goodbye. You felt lonely sitting in the parking lot wondering the next time you would see your husband and quite frankly, all of your friends told you he was most likely cheating on you by how often and long he was away without messaging or calling you.

You always waved away their concerns for your wellbeing as you took care of the estate, went to work for a few hours of the day before busying yourself with random hobbies and studying various topics for the off chance Charles would bring it up in conversation during one of his work rants, you liked to call them. Remembering the weight of his head in your lap, the feeling of his soft golden curls running through your fingers as he said every time, without fault, "I'd much rather be here with you, my love." But did he ever fall through with those words? no. But you loved your husband regardless.

─ · · You would always pick him up form the airport when he called the night before, waiting in a sundress with drinks and snacks ready in the car for the long ride back. Charles would place his large hand on your knee as you drove, charming you endlessly with his commentary the whole ride home, "I was beginning to forget just how beautiful you were, had to come back." "What an angel, you are. My guardian angel just meant for me." "You look as raidient as the sun in that dress, my love." "Remind me to kiss you with the same desperation I feel now when we stop."

And like clockwork, you would flush under his loving stare and words before being pulled into bed in an outward display of his love that would leave your legs weak in the morning and him bringing you both up breakfast in bed before presenting you another gift.

You held a tight smile while accepting the gift this time, not wanting to seem ungrateful yet your heart desired the non-material... and it seemed Charles understood this, had been planning something for awhile. You observed the box to be moving and to have... hole in it? You thought to yourself before looking to your husband with shock and confusion as a little bark sounded from inside.

"Charles, darling. You. Did. NOT," you gasp before throwing off the lid as a puppy comes bursting out to your chest, licking your face with gratitude before exploring the bed. Charles picks up the fluffy creature, leading it back to you before sitting near the foot on the bed, massaging your leg gently with a smile, "I know you've been feeling lonely recently and I apologize. I promise that after this next job... I won't have to work as much, this is just the last thing, I promise."

You stare into his eyes for a moment, the puppy wigging in your arms as you pet their head and scratch behind their ears with a subconscious smile growing on your face. "Really?!" you ask excitedly, blinking away tears of hope in your eyes seeing as Charles chuckles softly before you, crawling towards you both and pressing a kiss to the side of your head, catching a kiss on the chin by your new pet as well, "Yes."

─────── · ·

─ · · Charles had actually stayed for longer than you were used to, something about preparing and studying his opponent to strike the best deal. You nodded along, interested but confused on the details of this supposed interaction he had planned as you both walked the dog around the garden property line.

"When we get back, I just have to jot-down the rest of the details before I can join you two for dinner. I picked up your favourite bottle from the market earlier that I was thinking we could share?" You nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unclipping your new companion from their leash, watching as they run inside and to their water dish.

Charles's arms wrap around your waist as he presses a kiss to your exposed neck, feeling his smile against your skin, "I love you, darling." You rest your hands atop of his, leaning against his chest and close your eyes, enjoying the warm evenings breeze drifting across both of your forms before taking a deep breath and watching as Charles leaves you and heads to his study.

You get dinner moving, dancing and singing around the kitchen as your puppy runs between your feet, barking cheerfully and trying to dance alongside you. Giggling you pick him up, resting his upper arms on your shoulder as you use them as your partner, spinning and twirling towards the living before placing them in their back in their bed.

Your phone goes off as you rush back to the stove and take the tray out and leave it to cool in front of an open window before cutting the bread. "Smells divine in here," you jump, starting and nicking yourself on the knife, cursing softly as you watch the blood drip from the small cut with a wince before heading towards the sink.

Charles is distraught at the sight of you bleeding, taking quick long strides over to your form, holding your elbow gently as he inspects the small nick, "I'm so sorry," he mumbles a few times between kisses to your face before he moves to get the first-aid kit underneath the skin, patting the counter for you to sit upon as he stands between your legs and dresses the cut.

You smile at how softly he touches you, apologizing as you wince at the solution to cleanse the cut before kissing the bandaged finger afterwards. "I'm quite alright, Charles. Just a minor thing-" you begin to explain yet your husband just shakes his head, annoyed with myself. "I shouldn't have distracted you, got you hurt in the first place, I hate seeing you with this," he holds up your hand in front of both of your faces.

You press your forehead against his own, closing your eyes, "Charles, my love. I would forgive you even if you shot me. No need to worry," You joke in a loving tone- not understanding to the way the Jackal tenses feeling your touch. Visions of your corpse flashing before his eyes with life-like accuracy as he begins to feel queasy, shaking in your hold.

You pull away once feeling him start to breath heavily. His touch falling from your hand to grip the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white as he sees you look up at him with tear-covered eyes, his hand shakes with the trigger- "Charles?" you call out softly, hand hovering over his cheek, feeling as he flinches at the touch, taking a step away while shaking his head to himself before appearing... scarily calm again.

You watch as he smiles, brings up dinner and walks past whatever... episode he seemingly just had as if it had never happened in the first place... a mere fragment of your imagination. You furrowed your brows, jumping down from the kitchen counter before filling up both your plates and following Charles out to the patio where a table set with candles was prepared for you both.

Your heart tremors in your chest, watching as he pulls out a chair for you before pushing you in and seating himself. Pouring glasses of wine for you both with a cheers you gulp down the liquid quickly before gently placing the glass back down on the table and taking a bite of your food, debating weather or not to bring up what had just happened or not.

You ultimately decide not too, enjoying this moment that has been few and far between in recent months as your husband charms you like the first day you met, with coy smiles and charming words that have you falling into his arms and back into bed where you rest upon his chest, listening to his heart beating for you once more.

─────── · ·

─ · · Your friends call you in the morning as you invite them over before telling Charles, you rush towards his office in case he is still undressed for they all would be coming shortly to use the pool.

Knocking at the door, his voice invites you in to see the puppy in his lap as Charles fixes his glasses, looking up from the documents scattered across his desk to you with a loving smile and crinkled eyes, "good morning my love, I'm sorry I was not there to wake you."

You wave a hand on his face walking over and pulling him in for a kiss before looking over the papers and blueprints curiously, hand hovering over the smear of red ink against the corner of a crumpled page before Charles' voice redirects your attention with a hand to your hip, giving a gently squeeze, "was there something you wanted to say?"

"Oh, yes!" you jump back to your previous thoughts watching as he turns away from the desk, the dog jumping off his lap and running down the hall leaving the seat empty. You stare for a moment debating, knowing that if you sit down you might not be ready in time. The Jackal did not care about what you were thinking in the moment though, simply gabbing you by your waist and allowing you to fall into his lap.

"Marissa and my other friends are coming over shortly to use the pool, I just thought to let you know beforehand so you could get ready as well," you explain, playing with the buttons to his creme linen shirt listening to him hum. "I'm afraid that I still have-" you look at him with pleading eyes, hand brushing against the skin of his chest and trailing down, watching as the words die on his lips, "...alright. I'll be there shortly."

You quickly stand back up with a smile, cheering happily listening to him laugh before rushing back to your wardrobe to pick a swimsuit and throw-over for the occasion.

─────── · ·

─ · · A knock sounds at the door that has you nearly falling down the stairs and rushing to hug your guests. Marissa squeals in your ear, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as you both swing side to side. She presents you a bottle of wine and a platter of fresh fruits which you bring out to the deck, showing your guests to where the fridge and restrooms were.

─ · · You feel overjoyed having the house filled and to see the dog running around and jumping after their toys in the pool. You lean back in a lounge, soaking up the sun before a shadow overtakes the warmth. You peel up your sunglasses, as Marissa tits her head to the side, mouthing, follow me. You raise a brow in question but follow her nevertheless into the pool house in which she quickly closes the door and shuts the blinds on both of you.

"Marissa?" you call out her name, squinting through the darkness before flicking on the light," Is everything alright?" you ask again watching as her smile wavers, hands shaking as she moves to grip your own. "I think it's best for you to sit before I say anything..." her thumbs brush against the back of your hands soothingly, your heart races- debating of weather or not to quickly grab Charles for whatever news you were about to be it with.

Seemingly knowing your thoughts, Marissa shakes her head, taking a seat beside you on a stack of spare cushions for your outdoor furniture. "This is about Charles," she explains- you debate weather or not to roll your eyes. "Of course it is. What news do we have this time?" you ask, feeling irritated as you side your hands away from her touch. She looks at you for a moment before sighing, "I know you feel as though I am in the wrong for calling out your relationship and maybe I am, maybe I'm not but I only want you to be safe and happy... you're my best friend, hun and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You nod smiling, "same goes to you-"

"Yes," Marissa cuts you off, playing with her hair, "thats why I'm telling you that your husband isn't who you think he is." She bites her lip, waiting on your reaction. You lean your head forwards, "go on?" wanting to indulge in another one of her 'stories.' She cuts right to the chase.

"He kills people." You gasp, standing up and shaking your finger, "No, NO, Marissa! That is too far this time!" you stomp your way towards the door, shoulders rising upwards and tight, I can't believe she has the audacity to say such a thing. "PLEASE," Marissa runs up, gripping your arm, nearly on her knees begging, "let me explain... I-I have evidence." Your heat drops at her sincerity, the way her large tearful eyes grip your own, forcing you to take a seat again as she pulls open her phone- your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

You look at the various articles she has saved to her camera roll, the dates of the murders lining up with the most recent trips of your husband. "This could only be a coincidence right?" Marissa does not say a word, simply flipping her phone horizontally and pressing play to a news broadcast recording:

"Witnesses have identified the assassin to be a 6ft male with an athletic build. Crime investigators have released the following identikit based upon multiple accounts and ask that if you have any information on where the killer is or where they plan on going to contact local and world police immediately for the safety of the greater public."

You feel sick, head falling between your knees as you shake and cry, knowing that illustration to be hauntingly similar to the love of your life... or so you thought him to be.

Marissa rubs your back in soothing circling motions before looking towards the door and whispering her next words to you carefully, "Please, come with me tonight. Say that something happened with my family and that I need your support. We'll pack and bag and get you out," you nod along, lost in your thoughts and not quite catching her words- ears ringing from overstimulation, the clothes on your body soon feel to hot as you grip your skin in panic.

"I-I he wouldn't lie to me this way... he said he-he loved me?" you hiccup in between cries, now walking around in circles within the small space- wavering on the line of hysteria. "I have to go talk to him, this is a misunderstanding, they have the wrong accounts, they, they..." you shake your head, trying to clear your mind to no avail.

Marissa stands, gripping your shoulders, shaking you, begging you to listen to her, "Please, stay with me for tonight at least. I don't feel safe leaving you here with him, not with what we both know... he could kill us if he knows... we know..." You fall over, back into the cushions, your head feeling to heavy for your body as your spots of black start to cloud over your vision. "M-Marissa?" you beg for what you don't know as she hugs you, begging you to stand and move with her.

"Please, we have to go now. Stop the tears, we must leave-"

"I-I can't!" you shout before watching as her eyes widen, the sounds of the other guests dying down from your outburst. A knock sounds at the door, your heart drops... you both allow a moment to pass before another knock sounds, more rushed and heavy against the wood, "my love? are you alright in there?"

Charles. You and Marissa both share a look, you swallow deeply- clearing your throat, "I'm alright Charles, just an wardrobe malfunction." You hear as your... husband chuckles, "alright, I have a plate of food waiting for you by the pool."

"Thank you, darling!" you shout back before hearing as his footsteps become distant. You let out a breath you didn't know to be holding as Marissa pulls you up, wiping your face with her towel, determination in her eyes. "We. are. leaving." You nod, not trusting your words as you follow her outside, wincing at the light coming into your eyes and heart.

─────── · ·

─ · · You walk swiftly pass the crowd and upstairs, throwing the closet open to find a duffle bag as you begin to pack a weeks worth of clothes. You stop yourself from grabbing one of Charles shirts to sleep in, your fingers twitching as your heartaches, you bite your lip to conceal a cry as your eyes well before turning towards the ensuite bathroom.

You startle bumping into a chest as arms steady you, hand brushing against your cheek as Charles stares down at you- worry clouding over his eyes as he takes in the sight of your tears. "Whats wrong?" he asks quietly, brushing your hair as you shake in his hold... knowing what those hands have done. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax in the memory of his touch before pulling away and heading towards the bathroom.

Charles stands there still where you left him, glaring at his reflection in the mirror of the closet before turning around determined to find out whatever or whomever made his darling wife cry. He leans against the doorframe watching as you grab a hairbrush and a few hair ties before brushing past him and throwing them into your luggage- hands shaking as you zip it closed and place it over your shoulder.

But just before you can reach the door, Charles picks you up in his arms, you scream, and places you on the bed- standing at the foot with his arms crossed. "Running away from our issues only prolongs them. What. is. wrong?" he asks, muscles flexing as he forces himself not to physically comfort you seeing as you flinch from every slight sound you hear. Who scared you? What do I need to do in order to protect you? The Jackal thinks to himself, foot tapping in wait.

You sound out the party happening down stairs, focusing solemnly on your breathing, "I-I have to help Marissa with somethings. Her family, things went badly and she needs me?" you try and lie yet your words appear more like a question.

Your husband sighs, head tilting to the side as he analyzes your form, eye twitching... no, she couldn't know that. I've hid it well and no one else would know in the slightest... You watch every small expression tick over his features, shifting in your spot watching as he does the same, mirroring your movements- you feel trapped knowing that Charles was not going to let you leave... not without the truth nevertheless.

You look outside, hoping to catch Marissa's eyes to come and save you yet can see no sights of her. Your bag drops to your feet as you grip your hair, Am I ready to die? You ask yourself, thoughts automatically going to the darkest parts of your mind before you suddenly remember your conversation last night in the kitchen...

─────── · ·

You press your forehead against his own, closing your eyes, "Charles, my love. I would forgive you even if you shot me. No need to worry," You joke in a loving tone- not understanding to the way the Jackal tenses feeling your touch. Visions of your corpse flashing before his eyes with life-like accuracy as he begins to feel queasy, shaking in your hold.

You pull away once feeling him start to breath heavily. His touch falling from your hand to grip the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white as he sees you look up at him with tear-covered eyes, his hand shakes with the trigger- "Charles?" you call out softly, hand hovering over his cheek, feeling as he flinches at the touch, taking a step away while shaking his head to himself before appearing... scarily calm again.

─────── · ·

Shit, you think to yourself... his prior actions all making sense now. You timidly look into his eyes, purposefully trying to make yourself appear small... make him feel the heart you have loved ever-so dearly up until this point, and to some degree, you still do for the years of affections you both have shared.

"Tell me what you know," The Jackal asks calmly, your blood runs cold as he stares down at you, nose twitching, eyes daring you to try and lie again to him.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say before letting lose knowing that you were not making it out of this room no matter what so you might as well do it with morals and truth. "I know you kill people," you begin to say.

The room is dead silent as you both stare into one another's eyes, "Tell me that you don't," you whisper, tears silently falling down your cheeks that you do your best to try and blink away resulting in only more coming. Yet in your husbands move not to answer you provides you with the most deafening answer yet... he does.

You shake your head, nails digging into your palms, threatening to break skin. You flinch again to his touch, feeling as the Jackal gently pulls your fingers away from hurting yourself- your heart hammers in your chest like a drum, you know he can hear it to by the way his head falls. "Tell me that you don't," you whisper-shot, shaking your head, confused as to how the soft and intelligent man you fell in love with, that you married and planed to have children with... kills people.

"I kill people for money," the Jackal whispers quietly, a part of hoping that you do not hear his words, that you would return to your smiling and loving self, taking him back with open arms- unknowing once more yet you understand what he says, "Listen to yourself and say it again," you demand of him.

The Jackal removes his touch, taking in a shaky deep breath, closing his eyes as his hands shake down by his sides into fists, you slowly crawl back on the bed, "I kill people for money," he says a bit louder. You scoff into a cry, "say it again."

"I kill people for money," the Jackal states picking up his head to look you in the eyes, his heart breaks seeing your tears, watching as you flinching when he moves to brush them away. You'e afraid of me, Charles thinks to himself. I've failed to protect you, the Jackal thinks to himself. You are shaking in your spot, "say it again, say it-"

"I KILL PEOPLE FOR MONEY. Is that what you want to hear? Is that enough? Is it enough?" The Jackal snaps at you before falling to his knees, head in your lap as an offering. You feel the way he grips your sides, sobbing into your skirt, pleading for you to love him. Yet you just stare forwards, looking out to the sun and all the people downstairs, your eyes catch Marissa's as you stand, his body rolling off of yours as he stays collapsed against the floor watching as you slowly pick up your bag and close the door on him.

─────── · ·

─ · · You felt disgusted for not being able to go to the police about your husband... or well ex-husband. You sent the divorce papers in at Marissas request after your first month out on the run from your heart but no matter where you seemed to go, what disguises or excuses you used when he would just find your new phone number again, you still loved him.

─ · · A part of you knew deep within that not every moment you shared together could be a lie. He trusted you to sleep beside him, to cook for him, to be his confidant to his "work rants," and spent his pay check on you... but he kills people... you think to yourself, 'only the bad people, promise,' you remember him telling you via letter to your mailbox during your first week in Australia where Marissa left you before returning back to Spain. You shake your head, confused with yourself; head and heart competing...

But when you saw golden locks out of the corner of your eye, green-eyes hidden behind tinted shades and tall muscular body draped in a fine linen suit... it would be an understatement to say you folded in the first seconds and fell back in love in the first moment when he picked up your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and refused to let go, intertwining your fingers together on the table as he payed for lunch and all your drinks without a second thought.

And when it started to rain in Amsterdam where you were currently "hiding out," he draped his jacket over your shoulders and picked you up so that your feet wouldn't get wet in all the puddles and potholes. Carrying you all the back to the apartment you were renting, waiting at the door for you to invite him inside and you did.

─ · · You watched as he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, veins flexing across his skin as he clenched and unclenched his hands when you moved past him to sit distantly on the couch. He thought about the comforting pressure of you on his lap, the feeling of your head on your shoulder and your lips against his own. He wanted nothing more than to feel your skin against his skin, to get a taste of you once more... but he allowed you space, for now... until things are safe... until the job is done, Charles thought to himself, taking a sip out of the tea you prepared for you both.

─ · · After some catching up on both of your sides, your concern grew not only for yourself and your safety, but for your husbands as he was being pinned down on two fronts. One by the police, the other by his target and his men... a part of you knew that your safety did relay on the Jackal getting his work done and knew that from you not going to the police right away, not protecting the 'public', you were in some part just as guilty as he- a participant... "let me help you.... please." And the Jackal nodded.

─────── · ·

─ · · Returning to Spain, the Jackal gave you a series of instructions and lists of where secret rooms, weapons, and security lockdown procedures he had installed for a moment that you had no clue existed before and never would have.

─ · · You shiver at how precisely Charles can check the various weapons on himself, flipping knives in his boots, checking his magazines and checking the sights down the barrel of his gun before giving you a kiss and telling you to go sit in the bedroom upstairs with the dog, waiting to flip a switch in the wardrobe at his request to cut all the power to the house through your earpiece.

You nodded, pulling him in for a second kiss, lingering before pulling away slightly and kissing all the way across his cheek to his ear, whispering, "live for me." You didn't receive a response, only a pat at your hit, silently demanding you to move as you pick up your furry companion and closed the bedroom door, putting on a record just like intersected... sitting still and looking pretty and innocent, just waiting on your husband to return.

─────── · ·

─ · · You didn't bother to look at the clock, watching as the minutes ticked over and the dog laid asleep at the foot of the bed. Your fingers running across the soft fur of their back only to startle as you hear your front door be blasted through and two pairs of boots stomp their way into your home. Your breath hitches as you quickly stand and look at the window seeing no addition people in the tree line.

You double check to ensure your door is closed before pressing down on your ear, listening closely for your queue... "Do you hear me darling?" Charle's soft tone floods your ear, you can hear him taking shallow long breaths in and out, most likely hiding somewhere in the walls. "yes," you whisper, starting to make your way into the closet- waiting... "flick the switch, gorgeous." Lights out!

─ · · You are suddenly surrounded in darkness as you tip toe your way back to the bed and place yourself on top of the covers, scrolling through your phone once hearing their boots near the door. The dog shuffles by your feet but does not move as the door creaks open and two flashlights are shined in your eyes, causing you both to stand alert. "HANDS UP!" a woman shouts, you wave your hands in the air. "P-please don't hurt me! Take whatever you want from the house!" you beg, tears starting to drown across your cheeks as you work to distract the women. "Please!" you beg over and over again dramatically, falling to your knees as your hands press against her boots.

"I'm here to protect you ma'am, just do as I say and we will have no issues," the woman in uniform tells you- you nod your head. "Stand," she demands and you oblige, rising to your feet and grabbing your pet in your arms. "Do you have any idea what your husband does?" she questions you, moving you both towards Charle's study and telling you to sit at his desk. You nod your head, hearing as her breath hitches, "he works in global sales for an insurance company," you explain.

"I can show you the new logos?" you ask confusing the woman. "No, I don't care about that... you are married to Charles Calthrop, correct?" You nod your head again, "Yes, that is my husband." The floor suddenly creaks down the hall, the woman turns around sharply, flashlight pointing down the hall as you hide underneath the desk in preparation yet hear no rounds fired.

Looking up slowly, the room and the hall now appear empty as you listen to boots run down the hall and turn down the stairs into the living room. "Stay where you are," Charles demand comes through your ear, "okay," you whisper, holding onto the dog closely as you brace, listening to the distant conversation and then... BANG... a pause... BANG BANG. Another two shots sound and then... silence once more.

"Good girl, you did your work perfectly, my love," Charles praises you before telling you to come downstairs with the luggage for you both. You feel as your husband quickly pulls you in for a hug, caressing your head in an effort for you not to see the body behind him. You feel as he kisses the top of your head, "All ready to go?" he asks you.

"I'm ready," you respond with determination.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: no part 2's to this one!

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp @alelo23 @apaperflowerreader @itz-stuts

[rubysephi]

This is my take on the Ithica saga, feel free to tell me your thoughts

The challenge: the song starts with the viola, which is Penelope motif. The challenge she prepared is a display of her annoyance to the suitors because she knows only ODYSSEUS can succeed, this challenge is to show the suitors they can never compare to Odysseus, to the true man of the house. Speaking of man of the house, it was a cut song from the musicals, in the original Homer Odyssey, Telemachus called himself the man of the house, however here, he is not, the suitors took too much space in the house. The suitors only want the power that comes with being the man of the house, the challenge is to buy time for Odysseus to come back because she saw the storm, the abnormal behavior of the sea, she knows or at least hope Odysseus is coming. “ I'd rather die then grow old without the best of you” oh she ain't talking to the suitors, she is talking about Odysseus, knowing the suitors won't succeed in stringing the bow and shooting through the axes. Waiting, waiting she was waiting for years and yet she still have to wait for a few moments, she is longing for her husband

Hold em down : ‘ thrown back to the end of legendary with the “ where is he “. The suitors not being able to string the bow, and antinous releasing penelope tricked them, to forever delay them. we can hear Odysseus in the background, he is hearing the suitors plan, ready to kill them. We can also hear the viola in the background when antinous speak about what he will do to Penelope, perhaps showing her lack of say in the matter because only her instrument is there and not her voice

Odysseus: Odysseus chorus being the same as Polyphemus showing he is no longer a man during this, he is the monster. Also he said enough just before killing the suitor, Jusy like how polyphemus said enough before killing his man .All he has been through as shown him mercy isn't the solution anymore. Normally through the other saga the “ open arms “ melody shows that Odysseus still hung on to his friend, polities, view on the world but now he abandoned it . The danger motif keep showing up cause Odysseus is the danger, nother suitors, the electric guitar is always present. He is aiming for the torches, just like Scylla did when she killed his man, taking another inspiration from another monster. He is not letting them threaten his family after Fighting so hard to get back to his island, his loves one. The Legendary motif and Athena motif mixing omg , Athena taking in Telemachus like she did to Odysseus, full circle moment. “ Hold him down “ thrown back to the previous song , but all to the end of legendary “ where is he “. “ Mercy ? Mercy!” His mercy has long since drowned, perhaps like how he nearly drowned in “ get into the water” ; it stayed underneath the way, only ruthlessness remained. Also Eurymachus's askinf for forgiveness just like how Odysseus asked for forgiveness to Poseidon, getting the same answer “not” he truly took something form every foe he fought. Unlike the suitors, his aim is true, the arrows flying right to the target without fail. The end of the song mimicking the end of “ Survive” with Polyphemus, the chorus singing Odysseus, showing how much he embraced the monster, also the screams of the suitors omg, perfect . Perhaps as well the Chorus saying “ ody sseus” is the the same as the chorus at the end of no longer you

I can't help but wonder: nylon or acoustic guitar playing at the beginning , this isn't the monster, this is Odysseus, he softened for his son, once the threat was dealt with. The reunion between Telemachus and Odysseus is so heartwarming, Telemachus kept hearing tales and stories about his father, making up his vision of Odysseus based on those. However Odysseus only saw Telemachus as an infant, he didn't have anything to imagine what he son would be like, other the image of the infant Telemachus once was ( also the infant imagine of Telemachus could be tainted by the fact that Odysseus had to kill infant astanyax). They only could wonder about each other for years, and now that they are faced with each other, they can answer those questions. Also as they start to sing together, we can hear Athena motif, showing she is there watching over them both. I think I can hear a chunk of “ I'm just a man “ guitar before Odysseus says “ show yourself” also a huge throwback to warrior of the mind, them finally meeting back after all these years. The character development of Athena is so massive, going from no feelings to wanting to have a better world where people could be more kind. When she speaks we can hear the piano notes from the end of “ my goodbye”. The clock from the deep dive in the hour Glass, mixing with the guitar, both theirs opinion co existing

Would you fall in love with me again: the viola and the guitar finally together. “ I'm not the man you fell in love with” he truly thinks he became the monster, that the prophecy Tiresias told was true “ I see your wife with a man who is hunting”. When Penelope asked what he did , the ruthlessness motif okay, then thunder wringer motif and then the Scylla motif, showing his journey of sacrifice, the man he lost. The guilt heavy to Carry for a man that wanted to make it home. Penelope didn't ask Odysseus to move the olive tree bed because she thought Odysseus wasn't her husband but because she knew he wouldn't do it, she asked him to make him realize he was still the same man who carved that bed from the tree they first met at. This was Penelope making him know that , no matter what he did, the trouble he went through, it's still him , the man she decided to love and cherish , the man she married and waited for . Perhaps it was also to reassure herself that her wait is finally over, that her husband is truly standing there, in arm reach. ( The olive tree is also a cut song ). Penelope says “ waiting” 8 times because she waited 8 sagas for her husband to come home, this section also last 20 seconds for the 20 years she waited for him . She is so faithful to him, no matter if he did horrible things to survive, he was just a man who tried to survive and make it home to his wife and son. The instrumental of “ just a man “ playing soon after Penelope said you, "Is so genius, because at the end of the day, he was not the monster he made himself to be, he is just a man, who traded the world ( his crew ) for his son and wife.

Perhaps I can also hear in the Instrumental “ just a man, who Finally made it home, after all the years away from what he knows, he's just a man , who has fought for his life, deep down , he traded the world for his Son and wife” also him not singing the lyrics over the instrumental because he made it home, he don't have to sing about going home anymore, just like dangerous where the crew didn't sing “ making back Alive to our homeland” because they died,

And the musicals ending with” I love you “ ,omg , it's was a journey about love and lost, a man doing everything for love and losing a lot during his journey

Also the constant acoustic guitar playing while Odysseus talk showing he is the man and not the monster

Edit : I just realized between challenge and wyfilwma, Penelope sings waiting 13 times (6 in challenge, 7 in wyfilwma) and Ody faced 13 obstacles to get home (cyclops, storm, giants, circe, Underworld, sirens, scylla, mutiny, zeus, calypso, charybdis, poseidon, suitors)

[dykedvonte]

I find your takes on Jimmy's behavior patterns interesting, especially in regards to how he treats Curly.

What do you think is the cruelest vs kindest he's ever been to him pre crash? Curious about the range; what Curly might hope is potential for better in him vs the biggest hit he was willing to take in hopes Jimmy became better before everything imploded.

I always find this question fascinating. The question of what Curly will tolerate towards himself vs towards other's with Jimmy.

The fandom creates this misconception around their dynamic due to a lot of hindsight we have and a lot of emotional/relationship dynamic gaps being filled. We assume Curly has to be equally as dependent and unable to regulate/understand his feelings towards Jimmy as Jimmy is to him as we never really get Curly's motives or inner thoughts towards Jimmy. I personally think this is far from the case and while still unhealthily attached to Jimmy he is still very aware of him, doesn't believe he'd ever go as low as he did in the game but knows he's petty/vindictive to an abnormal extent.

I think it's important that in HFIM he (Jimmy) is represented as a parasite on the fish rather than a real, helpful and needed part of him (Curly). It is something that slowly kills the fish if left unchecked or there are multiple (coughP.Ecough) and the fish would live better without but can't get out by itself. A parasite in which the specific method of latching is rather gory/unpleasant for the host the whole way through. I see people use this parasitic relationship as an example but never actually look at the specific relationship exemplified. How it is one formed without any consent or real want of the host but they are stuck in it no matter what they do, so they must adapt or be killed. In the games unfortunate circumstance, it just doesn't affect the host.

Jimmy on the other hand likes to test the waters, likes to see how deep he can really latch onto Curly so he can never really be pulled out, not without doing more unnecessary damage. I've said it before but I think they have breaks: Curly does have enough of a backbone to separate himself from him when he can, when the circumstances allow but he's not willed enough to keep him out, not when Jimmy inevitably finds a way to latch back on and sink deeper. Pulling him out again just rips more out of him, makes him less sturdy to it, drains more. He can take the parasitism. He thinks he's taking it.

As mentioned previously, Curly can't get/cut Jimmy out of his life alone. He will inevitably give him another chance because Jimmy will do something to make him think he deserves it. He will clean himself up. He will try to keep a job longer than a month. He will be polite, civil. He won't ask for a favor and if he does it's small and he'll repay it. He worms his way back in while also pushing others out. Anyone who claims it's all an act again or he's just doing it to get back in Curly's good graces just doesn't get him. They don't get them. Curly's upset he's seen it over and over again, the dip in progress, the lows. But the peaks get higher each time, he can't leave when he sees how good Jimmy is doing. He's scared without him the next low will be his last. Jimmy no doubt put that idea in his head.

But to answer you question: I don't think Jimmy's cruelty towards Curly's comes not from actions but conversations, the way he's conditioned Curly to view himself as underserving to complain. He's rendered him unable to talk about his pains because by "objective" comparison he's always worse off. I don't think its one cruel dismissive act in this vein but multiple, the act of uncaring and disinterest while also demanding the same attention Curly so desperately craves from anyone not just Jimmy. The want for his friend to act like a friend and be so purposely shut down or condescended to when he just needs the shoulder to cry on he always provides. The emotional relief he gives him returned.

I imagine he's told him to suck it up when pets die, to quit shaking when a career deciding meeting was about to happen, to get over and just "fuck someone new" when he has another failed fleeting relationship the few months back on Earth. Maybe it's said within a joke to make it less sharp, maybe with the same "You have it to nice to be acting like this) attitude. It's that type of cruelty that breaks him down and makes it harder to ignore that Jimmy truly doesn't care about him, does not have the same desire for him to be happy like Curly has for him. Jimmy doesn't really try to hide it either and he just never would outright say it. He calls it tough love, saying its just how he is and Curly doesn't know how much longer he can actually take it if it's really true.

Curly is willing to keep taking these hits in hopes Jimmy realizes how he hurts others, how it hurts him with every dogged look or abrupt end to a conversation. It doesn't and every time he's almost ready to just give up. If Jimmy won't be kinder for him, the only person that's still there for him, why continue to bother? Why believe he'll change.

Kindest? The fact he always tries to come back? That he stayed his friend and such a close one despite how long he'd be gone. That Curly is the one he calls and trusts and lets him know that. Curly has friends, we know that, but we also know they don't know him. Maybe they never did or maybe because of his job, the distance made it harder to keep knowing him. Jimmy didn't always work there and yet he stayed, close enough so that Curly was never alone when he came back. That he didn't come back to friends shocked he was coming back or a dozen new faces that were new at family gatherings/the news of who passed. He chose to remain consistent for Curly, with Curly, he never changed for Curly. That's how Jimmy explains it whenever Curly needs a reminder that he's not so bad. He's physically hear for him, he's something that's set and that already more than Curly should be asking for considering all he has. Curly thinks it's a major kindness considering no one else has done it for him.

I feel like people mischaracterize Jimmy in that he does not take pleasure or gain a feeling of superiority from the direct act of being cruel. He'd get nothing from directly making Curly hurt cause it's fleeting but he likes when Curly feels bad and lesser cause he can imagine it's lesser than him. When it's something he knows is gonna be a lasting mark. His kindness likewise if supposed to be a kiss on the initial boo-boo he makes. Purely for Curly and shallow. Jimmy likes Curly, I don't think him seeing him as a friend is debatable, yet we can question how utilitarian he does view friendship in general,

[splashdacat]

✫ALNST INCORRECT QUOTES✫

Ivan: I'm sorry. Please talk to me. Till: Ivan: Hello? World's most amazing person?? Sweet pea? Precious cinnamon roll that's too good for this world, too pure? Till: 'Sorry' doesn't bring back my fucking M&Ms.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Sua: I'm so happy, I could kiss you! Mizi: Um…Neat. later Mizi, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," Till. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid. Till, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Mizi. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Ivan confessed their love for me? Mizi: Didn't you thank them? Till: closes the book and looks at the ceiling I fucking thanked them.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Sua: I’m the smartest, wisest person in this group. Till: Really? Then why is your hand stuck in a vending machine? Sua: I paid for my Mars Bar, I’m getting my Mars Bar.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Luka: Ah ready for another fantastic day of being better than Hyuna.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Till: That's ridiculous, Ivan doesn't have a crush on me. Sua: Yes he does. Mizi: Yes he does. Ivan: Yes I do.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Hyuna: As a responsible adult- Mizi: chuckles Hyuna: … As a responsible adult—

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ivan: This is Mizi, they’re… not my assistant, some other word. Mizi: I’m their carer. Ivan: Yeah, my carer. They care so I don’t have to.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Till: Would you rather kill Ivan, or— Sua: Yes, kill them. Till: I didn’t say the other thing— Sua: I don’t need to hear it. Ivan: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Sua: What’s the straightest thing you’ve ever done? Ivan: sighs Ivan: I've gotten killed by a man.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ivan: They called me the B-word. Till: Motherfucker doesn’t start with ‘b’.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Sua: Did you just call me a shrimp, you asshole?! I'm still growing, dammit!

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Till: What are you in the mood for? Ivan: World domination. Till: That's a bit ambitious. Ivan: You are my world. Till: Aww… Ivan: Till: Ivan: Till: OH.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Till: Do you ever wonder why you're still single? Ivan, eating mayonnaise straight out of the jar with a spoon: Yeah… I mean, I'm perfect! Who wouldn't want to date me? Till, sighing: I can name a few people…

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Mizi: Who do we know that has handcuffs? Ivan: Well Till and I- Till: elbows Ivan Ivan: …wouldn't know.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Sua: Are you okay? Mizi, crying: Yeah, it was just the onions. Sua: Picks up an onion What the fuck did you say to Mizi?

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Mizi: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed. Ivan: Ivan: I'm gonna tell them. Sua: Don't you dare.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Mizi: Self-care is suppressing all your trauma until it comes back and hits you in the face with the force of 7 very large trucks.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Mizi: hiding something in their coat I think we should adopt another kid! Sua: No. Mizi: Why not? Sua: Because when you say “kid”, you mean “cat”, and we already have fifteen of those. Mizi: unzips coat Sixteen.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Mizi: You don't need my blessing to go kiss Ivan. In fact, I was pretty sure you were already kissing Ivan Till: Nope. Mizi: In that case, as the archbishop of Till's fully awakened gaydom, I give you my blessing to immediately leave and rectify that as soon as possible! Go now, my child, and kiss Ivan right on the lips!!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Hyuna: When we get back, I'm going to step on you! Luka: Okay, as much as I might enjoy that, Hyuna–

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Hyuna, singing: ~Hush, little laptop, don’t you cry.~ Hyuna: ~Momma’s gonna find you some more Wi-Fi.~ Hyuna: ~And if that Wi-Fi doesn’t work…~ Hyuna: ~Momma will destroy the fucking Earth.~

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Hyuna, on the phone: Where are you? Mizi: I told you, I’m at work Hyuna: Swear you’re not at Chuck E Cheese again? skee ball machine alarm goes off in the background

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Congratulations! You've stumbled upon a secret message from me (the programmer of this generator): HEY. YOU! YOU THERE WITH THE FACE! Look at this pigeon.

(This isn't even for alien stage i jut found this)

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Mizi: Wait, if baby oil dissolves condoms, what does it do to babies? Sua: Believe it or not, babies and condoms are made of different materials. Till: It’s like rock paper scissors. Baby oil defeats condom, baby defeats baby oil, condom defeats baby. Ivan: Rock also defeats baby.

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Till: You ever get so tired that you start seeing spiders? Ivan: Me after I take 17 Benadryl and start seeing the hat man. Till: THE WHO? Ivan: Oh is this not a safe space suddenly?

ੈ✩‧₊˚✫✦✧✦✧‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊✦✧✦✧✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

Mizi, watching Till and Ivan fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt? Sua, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other. Mizi: Then… who’s the strongest out of you three? Till: Sua. Ivan: Sua. Sua: Me.

✫ੈ✩‧₊˚-ˏˋ You made it to the end,Yay :) ˊˎ✫ੈ✩‧₊˚

[ckret2]

That one anon you had confuses me bc I don't get the appeal in Bill cipher redemption fics that don't bash on him. Like what is the point if not to make him earn it??? Where is the juicy character development to be had? How can Bill fundamentally change as a person if no one is still angry with him? If he doesn't have to earn trust or otherwise actually change in order to be accepted??? Also it's funny, I love to see a character struggle. I am in love with your series for just the fact that YEAH when you've done what Bill has to that magnitude, itll take an insane amount of time in order to become better. It already took a lot of time to get the bare minimum in terms of living space. It'll be like that when you tried to destroy an entire dimension and have personally victimized the ppl around you.

---> also my ass totally somehow missed they weren't talking about the main fics of yours oops

I'm assuming that anon was using the term "bashing" the way it's usually used in fanfics.

It doesn't mean "make a character struggle and work to improve," but rather "make a character the author hates suffer for the entertainment of an audience who also hates him; make him struggle in order to put him down, not to eventually build him up."

I've seen or heard about plenty of works about/including Bill that do just that, so even if the anon was rude about it, it's not ridiculous for them to mistakenly assume a Bill fic would do that.

Big difference between "the characters are mad at Bill and want him to die" and "the writer is mad at Bill and wants him to die." Bashing fics aren't about character growth; in fact, someone who writes a bashing fic would probably be pretty pissed to see a story about that character growing & improving as a person. The goal of a bashing fic is to destroy a character—either metaphorically by OOCly misinterpreting them to demonize them as much as possible, or literally by torturing/killing them. The kind of people who'd write a Bill bashing fic aren't the kind of people who write about him being redeemed.

I'm a Bill basher's worst nightmare: someone who looks at all the terrible shit he did, acknowledges its full magnitude, writes him doing even more terrible shit, and still wants to give him a happy ending.

[genshinconfessions]

tw suicide mention

I can't get over that clip in Parade of Providence that everyone else thinks is funny (it is a bit), but I find so very sad and a little heartwarming. Cyno knows that his friend Kaveh is struggling, has a bit of a drinking problem, and is in debt. He got accosted by a ghost in front of everyone, told that his worldview that he's spent his whole life supporting can only lead to more suffering, and then started refusing the prizes when he won.

It should be noted that a potential sign of suicidality is giving away the things you own or getting your affairs in order very suddenly. Hell, Sachin did the same before he killed himself. Put yourself in Cyno's shoes. Your friend 's world got turned topsy turvy. He's giving away the cash prize- fine then, he said he'd give it to those who needed it. He's turning down the project funding priority, too. Odd, but maybe he has a good reason.

And then he comes to you with a card, the only tangible thing he has left from winning, and tells you that he 'won't need it'. After what he just went through? After you learned the truth of Sachin's death, and how he acted beforehand? Knowing that Kaveh is already at risk for these things, in misery before all this began?

I'd panic, too.

Kaveh is rather lucky to have friends whose first instinct is to look out for him, even when he's offering them something they really, really want. Cyno wants the card, but he also wants for Kaveh to be okay ♡

.

[crimeboys]

so like what’s going on in your dsmp steven universe au

so. okay. i haven't actually thought of like ALL of the plot a crazy amount i literall yjust added dream today and he is like a very vital character LMFAO. but it's the same story of like. 6000 years ago a lapis (wilbur) and a pearl (tommy) led a resistance to protect earth and liberate gems. an emerald (dream) did everything in his power to stop them, even getting one of their most trusted members, eret, on his side, but blue diamond was "killed" so the rest of the diamonds (purple, green, and pink) decide to just destroy the earth. except they only Think they've destroyed the earth. so a very small sliver of the resistance, l'manburg, survives. which is wilbur, tommy, niki, and jack. they find tubbo later amethyst style (not 100% sure about this just what i've been thinking). cut to 6000 years later and wilbur has died to give life to fundy with sally. not 100% sure of the plot from there LMFAO. i have ideas for stuff with quackity, sapnap, and karl later. and dream becomes like a major villain like. jasper but more prior history with wilbur and tommy. but yeah i've literally mostly thought about wilbur, dream, and tommy's past in this au rather than like. the present actual plot LMFAO.

but yeah i mean steven universe spoilers if you care if you read my other post it was definitely spoiled but wilbur is actually blue diamond he just realized like Ohh i actually fw humans and dont want to destroy their beautiful earth... Tommy let's fuck shit up. also tommy is like his pearl that was made for him at the castle except well he wasnt really Supposed to have a pearl at the time he just kind of made one bc he wanted one and tommy is like OBVIOUSLY not the ideal of pearl he speaks without thinking and he's offcolor in some places but wilbur thinks he's awesome and they quickly become besties and brothers.

here's my tommy design i was working on, im not an artist but he has red shoulders so he is offcolor but tommy makes something to cover it up on homeworld but when they become revolutionaries tommy always lets them show and makes them a part of his l'manburg uniform.

here is my friend socks @titsoutfortntduo's art of crimeboys + dream, BIG fan he is so good at character design...

[radio-venom]

no. listen. a twin fight is different. you’re the same, you’re nothing like them, you’re enemies, you know each other better than anyone, you will never understand them, you’ve been compared since birth, you’re each other’s oldest companion, you’d kill each other, you’d kill for each other, you’re each other’s reflection, you know everything that’s hurts them the most and you can tear them to shreds better than anyone on earth and they can do the same to you. you are hurting yourself.

[monards]

i fear that i don’t acknowledge enough the fact that i KNOW rhinedottir's evil !!! and she's horrible !!! and that she's wholly ireedamable !!! i know and love and respect that fact !!! i'd shoot myself in the frontal lobe if hoyo made her out to NOT be wholly evil !!!! but the reason i always go on and on and on about her humanity and complexity is because. SHE IS ALWAYS DUMBED DOWN !!!! TO JUST THAT !!!! it's literally the greatest and most moving theme (IN MY OPINION!!!) in genshin, that human beings are COMPLEX !!!! and they're MORE than just evil or bad or wtv. we see this through every character to almost ever be introduced to us -> literally just take arlecchino as an example. if anyone was at all paying attention to the discourse around her when the fontaine teaser dropped (and. 4.0 in general) it was the BIGGEST thing to watch people argue between "she's a harbinger, so she's clearly the most evil and the big antagonist of fontaine because of these accounts we have right now !!" versus the argument of "we've only seen ONE perspective of her so far, and it's no duh that all this stuff sucks -- but there's no way she's JUST gonna be all these horrible things,, because literally nobody to exist is just horrible and cruel with zero to no good in them. and also that'd make a shit narrative by hoyo in a story driven game" AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED !!!! we saw !!! in REAL time !!! that while arlecchino was rightfully cruel and horrible and, yes the things she did were fucked up beyond belief and she should absolutely not be excused for any of it - she is NOT just evil ! she's shown to care, albeit in a fucked up way that only shows she's even more deranged ; but what's so incredibly important about her is the way that her being "evil" doesn't mean she's incapable of anything else. She is evil, yes— but so many of those evil actions have *motives* and *reasons* that explain them (but not excuse or condone!) and, although they don’t save her grace or anything of the sort, they DO show her true character. AND YHATS SO IMPORTANT!!!! She’s capable of being an antagonist while still being justified in some form, and given nuance and backstory and redeemable traits

I am !!! NEVER !!! going to say rhinedottir is a good person. she isn't! no shit sherlock ! how the fuck do you think im gonna go on and ignore the fact she sent both her kids to their deaths, and also fed one to another. dare i say, that is NOT anything good !!! suprise of the century !! woah !!! -- but what i AM gonna say is that she's much beyond that? hello !! not only has the point of her having not a zero good trait or will in her body been. proven false over and over and over again. but it's such ! Sad and not compelling is character choice for her *not* to be nuanced and complex and justified in a fucked up !! — like do you REALLY think hoyoverse (who is clearly capable of, and likes to make) complex characters, who are horrible, while not being *only* those horrible things, would pass up a golden (haha) opportunity to make a characters whose entire existence is JUST that??!,!2????

believe what you want! Do what you want! This is a silly video game that will be eroded along with time in a hundred in so years ! But god so help me, please don’t be willfully ignorant to the complexity and nuance of characters, just because you want a villain. No villain , real or not, is entirely evil. People are complex and multi faceted and people really, really need to hop off this cart of going “okay but stop saying she’s multifaceted because it takes away from her being evil” because it DOESNT! If anything, it makes her so much more compelling . Which is something some people can apparently. Not handle.