#CW: Murder Attempt

[phoenix-flamed]

In regards to my modern AU verse. I have a rather heavy headcanon that I've been mulling over, and I think I'm going to go with it, because while this is an AU... by now you guys have probably noticed that I am incredibly uncreative and like to take influence or give nods to canon elements, even in AUs.

This headcanon's going to involve domestic abuse/domestic violence and threat of murder or attempted murder, and will be tagged appropriately for these topics. Still, reader discretion is advised, and I do want to note that anyone who interacts with this verse is absolutely not required to adhere to this headcanon. I know it's an incredibly heavy, touchy, sensitive, uncomfortable topic, and while I will aim to remain respectful, it's inevitably not going to be suitable for everyone.

If it isn't comfortable for you, just let me know, and the reason for the divorce in our specific threads will be left as a general case of "irreconcilable differences" or simply, "it just didn't work out."

In my modern AU verse for this blog, Elwin and Anabella are divorced, with Elwin having been the one to leave and file for it.

The reason for this is because Anabella pulled a knife on him in a fit of anger. Whether she simply threatened him or tried to attack him is never clarified, mostly because Elwin doesn't want to talk about it. Why am I taking this route with their relationship, despite how extreme it is? Because of the fact that Anabella in XVI's canon story had no qualms with having him murdered, and she revealed at the end of her life just how much she had resented Elwin and all of the reasons why. Even in a modern setting, I don't personally feel that these feelings and this reaction would be out of the realm of possibility for her character, given that in spite of this being an AU, she is still her. She is still the same core character, as is my Elwin.

This verse isn't written specifically to be a "happy AU", though if that's something you're interested in setting up, especially if you're playing Anabella, Clive, Joshua, or even Byron, I'm more than happy to do that with you!

But yes. Elwin doesn't discuss the true reason behind the divorce, or rather likely will not do so in RP threads. He doesn't even like to discuss the fact that they are divorced -- which, while he usually hides the depths of his feelings on the matter with a silly sort of reply of "It's complicated", the truth is that it really IS complicated.

Prior to that event, their relationship had become increasingly more strained due to disagreements between them, but there had never been violence. To him, the attack seemed unprompted, though in hindsight it's clear that his wife had been harboring quite a bit of resentment and anger towards him, and misery regarding their marriage, that she had simply never revealed to him.

He does still love her, regardless of how she feels towards him. He will not, however, go back to her. He does try to get full custody of the boys, or at the very least of Clive -- though whether or not it works is going to be left up to a case by case basis.

#Headcanons #TW: Domestic Abuse #CW: Domestic Abuse #TW: Domestic Violence #CW: Domestic Violence #TW: Murder Threat #CW: Murder Threat #TW: Murder Attempt #CW: Murder Attempt

[bananadramaaa]

not sure if someone already asked it and I couldn't find it or not, but I wanted to ask what program you use for drawing?

also absolutely love your human!Alastor and Mimzy art, it's one of my favorite pieces to come back to every once in a while to re-read the little comics you made

Aw, thank you! Glad that you enjoy my murder besties comics✨

I usually draw in Photoshop or Paint Tool Sai. This sketchy comic I drew in Photoshop, for example.

(And yeah, CW: murder attempt, also dark humor I suppose)

(continuation? Anyone?)

#ask #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #human alastor #hazbin hotel mimzy #hazbin mimzy #human mimzy #human au #myart #cw murder attempt #cw dark humor #murder besties

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Why is it always Hellva Boss earworms that make me come up with ideas?

So, during the whole Freakshow thing, it wasn't true mind control. Danny was definitely affected, but it messed with his self esteem and emotions to the point where he damaged all of his relationships and is considering running away. Freakshow, who was a little bit smarter in this, then reveals that he knows Danny's a halfa and hey, why don't you join my ghost circus while you figure some things out.

So Danny becomes a clown because he's always liked clowns, and if you've seen the new episode, you know what happens next

and over the course of a few years, Freakshow isolates Danny from his family and friends, indoctrinates him into the crime side of business, and gaslights Danny into thinking he's nothing without him. Danny loves performing, but is so beaten down that he thinks he can't leave even if that's what he wants. Danny's a famous performer at this point, even if no one knows his real identity. The other ghosts aren't really a comfort since they're mind controlled.

The Justice League, specifically Young Justice, already know that Circus Gothica is a crime ring, but have no evidence to get them arrested bc the ghosts (who they think are just metas) are too good. The leader during the thefts (Danny) is the only one they've ever been able to get close to. Maybe at some point, Tim!Robin and Danny get trapped and Danny has a panic attack for failing Freakshow? Something happens that makes Tim convinced Danny isn't a criminal willingly, but he can't convince the others.

Danny and Klarion somehow end up dating. Freakshow joins the light, probably, and the two work really well together. Klarion asks Danny out, and Danny was really reluctant since he hasn't had... anyone, in years, but they date and it's just another thing for Freakshow to hold over his head.

Eventually, Freakshow gets the inkling that Danny isn't working as hard as he should be so he puts "Greatest Clown in the World" contest, and tells Danny that all the clowns who don't win will be immediately killed.

Danny is horrified, but he can only care about himself right now, so he's working his ass off.

(Meanwhile, in Gotham, the Joker tried to join, but the Batman broke in, stole all his bones, and left him in the hospital for a few months)

So Danny's putting his all into this performance, but Young Justice finds out about the murder bit and infiltrates with, IDK, disguised Nightwing? Klarion is also there to support his man.

Danny ends up tying with Nightwing, and the tie-breaker is a three minute performance and whoever's more entertaining wins. Danny has a panic attack during Nightwing's performance and Tim and Klarion team up to talk to Danny.

Danny's convinced he will be nothing without Freakshow (literally, he might fully die), so while Klarion helps him feel better about his skills, Tim finally gets the deets about Danny's whole situation. Tim logics that Freakshow mindcontrolling this other dimensional species + Danny is half this species = Danny is being mind controlled, pissing off Klarion while Danny thinks back to what happened when Circus Gothica first came to town.

His irrational anger at family and friends, his desperate need for approval from Freakshow, how he never even considered going independent, how he thought he was immune to the mind control staff despite being half ghost.... He's pissed. He wants to quit.

So he tells Tim that YJ needs to get the staff during his performance; without it, Freakshow wouldn't be able to mind control anyone. And he goes on to give his performance.

As for that... look, 2 Minute Notice is an amazing song with amazing choreography. the only thing i would add would be a quad somersault during the trapzee part.

Danny proves himself as an amazing clown, Freakshow gets arrested since Danny is willing to testify against him, the ghosts are free, and Klarion later murders Freakshow in a cell because that's his boyfriend, you pathetic excuse of a warlock.

"Freakshow, you sad sack of shit! Fuck you!"

#chaotic spirits #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #c: danny fenton #c: freakshow #c: klarion the witch boy #c: tim drake #c: nightwing #cw swearing #cw attempted murder #did i imply that danny was actually a grayson in the end? #yes i did and both tim and nightwing are having a little freakout over that #i'm tired of people saying danny's afraid of clowns bc freakshow isn't a clown! it's just circus trauma #now i gave him DOUBLE circus trauma #klarion loves his silly clown boyfriend #danny loves his scary magic boyfriend #tim loves having his theories validated and lords the fact that he was right about Danny over YJ for weeks

[flowerbetweenfangs]

In Shadows...

(This one is a tad darker (no pun intended) then some of my other works. That being said, I hope you enjoy and mind the tags)

You had been running from them for months at this point. You weren't sure why they followed you.

It had started simple. Knocks at your door. Strange things in your mail without a return address. A flicker out of the corner of your eye that made you turn to look, only for it to be gone by the time your gaze rested on it.

Then, it had escalated. The same people would show up where you did. They pretended not to see you, but there was always that feeling they were. Hair on the back of your neck standing up. A chill up your spine. A cascade of goosebumps.

It all came to a head when you were walking home and saw their shadows stretching out under the streetlights. Weapons glinted and chains rattles as they made their way over.

A flashlight clicked on and off, chasing away the shadows temporarily, and blinded you.

You ran, of course. But they were prepared and someone waited for you at the other end of the road.

Shadows stretched longer and longer, despite the flashlight's attempts to keep them at bay. They crawled up trees, fences, and the walls of an old farmhouse.

The clinking of chains covered a strange... Absence of noise. No animals screeched. Trees didn't creak as a silent wind made the branches sway.

It was when the knife was pulled you realized they intended to kill you.

The sound of your scream pierced through the dark as the flashlight was focused on you. You tried to run again, but something struck the side of your head.

You fell to the ground, curling into a ball and looking for any way out.

Shadows rippled as the cries reached them. The sound waves made it twist and serpentine.... Off the surfaces they covered.

Your attackers didn't have time to scream or beg for their lives as their own shadows slithered up their bodies. Some were strangled, some thrown, some twisted.

But all were on the ground. The flashlight rolled into the field as your savior towered over you.

Naturally, you scooted away from the strange shadowy creature until your back hit a barn wall.

It tilted its head to the side, featureless face studying you.

Then, it offered a hand.

"You are safe now."

#monster love #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monsterfucker #monster girlfriend #monster #shadow monster #cw attempted murder #cw knife #cw kidnapping #cw stalking #cw murder

[gabessquishytum]

Dream's husband is trying to kill him, Hob has been hired by Dream's family to protect him.

Instead of doing the job as a typical body guard (standing behind the principal, sunglasses & ear pieces), Hob goes in as Dream's besotted hot ass boy toy.

Dream is already on the outs with his husband (obviously with the hit and all) and they don't wanted tip off the husband & assassins that Hob is protection or that they know about the hit at all.

The hardest part is figuring out wear to hide his gun in the skimpy clothes he has to wear to sell the bit(; the easiest part was kissing on Dream & "pretending" to be into him).

The hardest part, for Hob, is having to leave someone he's fallen hard for at the end of the job; the hardest part for Dream is watching Hob get hurt protecting him,,,,,,,loving Hob is easy.

Ajahdhdhah I'm imagining Hob taking one look at Dream when they meet to discuss his protection and saying "Right, well, I NEED to pretend to be your lover. It's 100% necessary to keep you safe. Also this needs to be as realistic as possible." And he immediately whips out the tightest salmon pink shorts you've ever seen, and transforms himself into the ultimate boytoy lover. Dream is standing there with his mouth open wishing that he could have met Hob in literally any other circumstance than one where he's about to be murderer.

After that they're together 24/7. Hob moves himself in (much to the chagrin of Dream’s husband,,, suddenly there's an obstacle to him poisoning Dream’s cocktail). He keeps vigil over Dream in the night, even cuddles him through his nightmares. They get really, really close.

But Dream is like, "you don't love me, you just love the idea of me," and Hob can't convince him otherwise. Nothing he says seems to persuade Dream that he's actually loved and valued as he is. That someone would actually want him.

And then Hob takes a bullet for him. And that kind of alters things. Dream’s husband is arrested for conspiracy to murder. Hob is laid up with a hole in his shoulder, but he's still grinning when Dream comes to visit him with a big stuffed toy duck as a gift. He's maybe starting to believe that Hob likes him? A bit?

A bit is definitely an underestimation of how much Hob loves Dream at this point, but he's willing to wait for Dream to catch up. He's got like 3 months of physiotherapy. He's hoping that his doctors will add "kissing Dream and making him feel loved" to his exercise list <333

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw attempted murder

[emily-mooon]

OK! here's the general idea for this Nordegrim Ghosts AU that has been haunting me:

CW FOR MENTIONS OF DEATH, ATTEMPTED MURDER, AND ALSO A TINY BIT SUGGESTIVE (just a tiny bit though)

Stacey, Scott, and Lawrence inherit this big house from a distant great aunt they have never met after she passed of old age. Scott is in debt so he cant take the house like he was supposed to, and Lawrence wants nothing to do with it, so Stacey gets it instead.

It’s perfect though cause her and Neil, who is also her husband now here, were planning to move houses anyways and were struggling to find a good place. Also since the house is super big, they thought about opening a hotel at one point once the house is all fixed up.

What they don't know is that the house is haunted. the ghosts in question are:

Knives Chau: A teenage girl from the 1950s who was a fan of rock n' roll that got pushed down the stairs by a jealous classmate (not Tamara btw that was her gf) at a party

Julie Powers (IDK her married last name yet): An Edwardian women who got pushed out the window by her husband (who is Joseph in this AU btw)

Stephen Stills: A folk singer from the mid 60s who dies in a fire (people confused him with the other Stephen Stills all the time)

Gideon Graves: A music producer from the late 60s early 70s who was poisoned by a rival producer

Lucas Lee: A Victorian lumber guy who was crushed by a wooden beam during the construction of the houses renovation

Todd Ingram: A 90s Rockstar who died while having sex with his bands drummer (which like in the comic, was also cheating on his girlfriend and it is still Lynette and Envy)

Lisa Miller: A somewhat famous 1930s actress who died while filming a scene

Matthew Patel: An early 19th century poet who died in a duel that was orchestrated by a good friend of his

Roxie Richter(she has no last name in this au btw, putting it here cause I put everyone elses last names here): A Viking who was struck by lighting

Ken and Kyle Katayanagi : Inventors/mechanics from the late 19th century who died in a car explosion along with their dog (who is a dog version of robot 0-1 btw). They live in the carriage house as its far more peaceful than the main house

The ghosts overhear the hotel idea when Stacey and Neil are talking about it and they are not too pleased with it. So they try to haunt them so they'll leave, but ultimately fail.

Then either Gideon or Todd, come across Stacey leaning out the window and decide to push her in an another attempt to get them to leave which in turn, almost kills her. Because of this, now Stacey can see ghosts and forms a close friendship with them. Neil, like Mike and I assume Jay in bbc and cbs ghosts respectively, will have a collage of what they all look like since he cannot see them.

So yeah that's my idea so far! I’m still tweaking things but I’m happy with this rn. I’ll definitely make art for it at some point (and if people want it, an ask blog). Feel free to also suggest some ideas for this au if you have any :]

#also btw it takes place on the east coast cause why not make some more changes #its mostly inspired by bbc ghosts cause thats the only one ive seen and i adore that show to pieces #because of this fact decided to check out who the ghosts are in cbs ghosts and some of the time periods are similar to the ones ive picked #some of the charcters also die and are in the roles of some canon characters (ex. Julie and Matthew) but i did essentially tweak some other #and also added in new time periods for it to be unique #this is a new niche au to add to the pile #I’ve kinda done it once before with ST but only managed to make byler capvers stuff along with toxic regency ghost boyfriends stonathan #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim comic #scott pilgrim takes off #stacey pilgrim #young neil #neil nordegraf #knives chau #julie powers #stephen stills scott pilgrim #gideon graves #lucas lee #todd ingram #lisa miller #matthew patel #roxie richter #ken katayanagi #kyle katayanagi #nordegrim #cw mention of death #cw attempted murder #adding those two tags in cause while i mention them briefly it still could be trigging for someone #lmk if I should add the cw suggestive tag #cause I’m unsure since it is like one word compared to death and attempted murder

[mayasaura]

I see and love your "Gideon makes a joke about dying of getting railed" and raise you "Ianthe makes a joke about Gideon getting railed to death"

#you KNOW she would #the locked tomb #ianthe tridentarius #cw ianthe tridentarius #gideon nav #nona the ninth #Gideon would both love and hate it #harrow (if present) would immediately attempt murder #could be #kirianthe #or #gidianthe #but doesn't have to be

[kuroshirosb]

I'm sorry, Ethan, I'm afraid I can't do that.

#trainer kris #trainer lyra #trainer ethan #pokemon bill #pokemon #pokemashe #kris kawamoto #lyra kawamoto #ethan hidaka #bill sonezaki #cw #blood #UGGGHHHHHHHH #COMPUTER PROGRAMS (KRIS) WHO ATTEMPT MURDER AND ATTEMPT BODY SNATCHING #she's such a tragic villain. but also a villain who takes everything out on the wrong person (lyra) #she thinks lyra is the source of her pain (and also bill) but lyra did nothing but exist and arghhh #she DIED but instead of staying dead she gets to watch someone who's not her live her life for her #she's so jealous #and lonely #and in pain #so she decides to KILL her uncle and take back her rightful place the moment she gets a chance. #i may be #a tiny bit #obsessed with her #5​a highly specific AU version of her)

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Could you do an ABO Headcanon of Alphas!Overblot Gang x Omega!Kalim, where Kalim is a boy who was sold for a ritual to summon the seven most powerful demons to be sacrificed, but at the time of the ritual, the demons ( who I imagine in their Overblots forms) are interested in Kalim and choose him as their omega/fiance, and despite their rude and irritated manner, they slowly show that they care and love Kalim

This took so long since I had to do so much research and by the time I nearly finished it it didn't save so I lost the whole thing so I'm rewriting this all over again so if you see double somehow, now you know!

WARNING: This post will have the following;

Alpha/Beta/Omega Verse (A/B/O)

Attempted murder

Sex stuff

Is Hella Gay

If you no not like ANY of this stuff, the ships around it, or are not interested, then move along! Do not comment or engage at all if you dislike all this!

Now onto the post!

Life of Kalim Al-Asim was always pleasant and sweet. He always relied on his family and close servants and lived in a beautiful home of a beautiful and thieving kingdom. Sure he's mostly isolated and not allowed outside the home's walls but that's for his protection!

He got along great with all his servants, his family adored him as much as he adored them. Though he does have one wish his heart aches many times over, the return of his best friend... Jamil disappeared in the two's younger years right when tests to determine who's an alpha, beta, or omega started. Nothing in his room was touched or packed which made it clear he didn't run away. Not like he would, thought Kalim... He promised...

Days have been counted down for Kalim's birthday, a large wide celebration everyone celebrates in many positive ways. And this birthday was extra special for Kalim since he was informed they will be holding a parade just for him to walk around and spread goods from the family in his honor! One the day of the his birthday, he was bathed in the nicest soaps and warmest water, dressed in the finest silks and softest fabrics and ate the most delicious food he ever taste before they swept him right to the soft and veiled palanquin waiting for him.

Btw if you wanna know what he wore, I pictured the Fairy Gala outfit

Kalim was happy seeing everyone's cheerful faces as they move across the kingdom, everyone excited to see and celebrate with the well rumored beautiful child of the Asim family name, he tossed much gold coins and flowers to everyone as he waves and smiles bright and kind

As the parade drew to a close he leaned back into the soft cushions before he took notice they seem to be wandering farther away from the kingdom and more to the darker shade due to the nightfall land Before he could ask his father where they were going, the guards quickly grab onto Kalim and yank him out of the once comforting and protecting veiled hide away and into the sand

The parade was a ruse. The kindness he believed from the servants was a ruse. The lie that he was being held inside was a ruse. It was all a lie for everyone, Kalim, the kingdom...All lied to with the idea the world was unsafe for the son of such a wealthy family, but in reality he was hidden away for this very moment... With the moon at the right phase and at it's peak, as they drag the poor screaming and crying Kalim to the ruins and pin him down to the large alter. Ruby eyes widen when seeing the large seven statues of the most powerful demons in the universe... The Crimson Tyrant of Wrath The Scarred Rebel of Sloth The Enchanting Merchant of Greed The Viperous Tactician of Envy The Poisonous Oppressor of Pride The Fire Guardian of Tristitia And The Thorn Dragon of Melancholy

Kalim cried and pleaded to be let go, even more when his father explained it has to happen, that if they sacrifice once in a while the land would be blessed with great farming, water, riches, etc. and if they sacrifice such a golden soul they might be blessed with something greater.

Kalim cried and squirmed as he tried to escape from their tight grips as the kept going of the ritual. That's when he sees them... Seven figures appear from the shadows, from the Earth, from the skies, from the fires, from mere matter... Standing around him in a circle...

Kalim woke up in a soft bed he doesn't recognize in a room he doesn't recall even more, sitting up he sees hanging up are a set of clothes seemingly fit for him to wear, black and red with glamourous golds to tie it all together...

After a moment a ghostly servant of sorts come to him and tells him to get dressed and come follow him to the gardens where "they" are waiting for him

Nervous of what'll happen if he disagrees right now, he does as he is told and waited for the servant to leave the room to change to the new clothes and stepped out, he followed the ghost to the location of the large and hauntingly beautiful dark gardens of many plants

There seated in a table at the center of the garden are the seven demons.

Kalim carefully sat with them, scared to look at any of them but more scared to upset him so he answered when they talk to him, nodded at yes or no questions, but why are they treating him like this? To make it even more fun when he dies in their hands? He finally spoke, "What am I doing here? Are...Are you going to kil-" His words were forced to a stop when a servant place a plate before him, his favorite food from childhood... But how-

The eight men talked a bit more before they finally informed Kalim he'll stay with them from now on. "Why?" Kalim was unable to not blurt out. The men look at one another, a silent agreeance, before they speak, "We pick you to be our's."

Days passed since that first meeting about Kalim's new living arrangements, and it's been doing alright.

Kalim started to get used to these demons, even more when he realize one of them was Jamil! As it turned out he was banished after he got back from the test he was an alpha and they assumed Kalim would be one and didn't want them to fight, not knowing until after the banishment that Kalim was actually an Omega... After the banishment, Jamil was fortunately found by a man who turns out was the previous demon of Envy and taught him the ways of ruling and magic. He also grew to understand that he has met every one of the other demons - Riddle, Leona, Azul, Vil, Idia, and Malleus - some time before they saved him from his attempted sacrifice ritual

Overtime since he began his new living arrangement, Kalim began to see the sides of these seven he never thought to see before. They may be seen as scary and intimidating, but they really are so different than what Kalim heard from the stories... He grew to adore Riddle's awe of the wildlife in the garden and how he loves games and his roses. He grew to like Leona's strong will of equal rights for everyone. He grew to admire hearing Azul's little rambles of paper work and how he can do so much in so little time. He grew to love Jamil's strong will and sharp tongue. He grew to like Vil's knowledge of nature and what it can give you in potion making. He grew to admire Idia's little rants and chill talks with him about his hobbies and interests. He grew to love Malleus' quirks and clingy methods of love and cuddles.

It didn't take much from wandering around the new home of his and going around the lands with them that he feel deeper and deeper in love with all of them. And like him, it didn't take much for them to make it clear they want him in a much deeper romantic sense

It was a whole six months since they saved him when the signs of gentle warmth and romance begun to show their heads to Kalim.

Riddle started to invite him to have sweets with him or a garden stroll

Leona naps a lot but now he's offering Kalim to nap with him or read beside him while he cuddles him

Azul began to offer travel plans to Kalim and spoiled him plenty with new clothes and items

Jamil began to cook more foods Kalim loves and helped him in dancing if wanted or needed

Vil started to do relaxing spa like methods for Kalim, setting up luxurious baths and spa facials, he also begun to give the boy his books if he so ask

Idia was starting to talk more with Kalim and they watched the stars together

And Malleus has invited him on many moonlit strolls across the gardens

It was after a while of all this did the seven sat Kalim down and asked him properly if they can all be lovers, that if he's okay being their omega. At this point, Kalim was not once uncomfortable by any of them and none of them tried anything to him without asking first. He agreed rather happily and thus the new romance begun!

The eight began to live their lives comfortably as lovers, they had to get used yes but they worked

Over time with their help the lovers really begun to get used to each other thanks to the heats.

Now, for the first one, as they weren't lovers yet, they all made sure Kalim was locked in his room and fought tooth and nail of their temptations to mate with him. The sweet coconut and sand scent he was giving off while he stole the varies clothes and items of theirs's for his nest nearly drove them mad

So, luckily, by the time the next heat happened they were all together and ready for it

The first night was a long passionate one with them eagerly exploring each other and how much their sweet omega can take

Each time they took mental notes with anything that gave their Kalim pleasure

Kalim's poor skin is just covered in bites and marks

#twisted wonderland #tw a/b/o #cw sex mention #tw attempted murder #a/b/o verse #kalim al asim #twst overblot #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #kalim x riddle #ridkali #kalim x leona #azul x kalim #jamil x kalim #jamikali #kalijami #kalim x vil #kalim x idia #kalidia #malleus x kalim

[hajihiko]

Read & heed cw in tags

if at first you don't succeed

#CW suicide attempt #CW implied suicide attempt #CW implied suicide #The tags are scary it's just the in-game apology harakiri thing no blood no graphics #Debating on whether to post this but like it IS canon and it IS the super violent murder game #An art

[bananadramaaa]

Sidney thinking Alastor's gonna save her.

Alastor: Oh don't stab her there Mimzy, you'll get blood everywhere

Mimzy: I know what I'm doing!

They just start bickering and Sidney is just like whyy

(Sorry couldn't resist my humor is also broken)

I needed to illustrate this:D Who needs to sleep at night anyway?

(for the context)

#ask #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel mimzy #human alastor #human mimzy #human au #cw murder attempt #cw dark humor #myart #hazbin hotel #murder besties

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 33: I Need to Survive

~2840 words

CW: negative self-talk, beating, broken bones, attempted murder, torture, vampire whump, gunshots, vampire feeding, vomit, mouth whump, non-sexual throat fuck with a foreign object??? fellas…

Also NO main character death!

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

“Mr Bowers, where are we going?”

Bowers glanced at Simon in the rearview.

“You’ll see.”

Simon huddled in the back seat as Bowers drove. He swore, he was never getting into the backseat of a car ever again. But he’d had no choice in this case; Bowers was a grade B vampire, and could easily snap Simon in half if he wanted to. Running was not an option on his ruined feet. Simon had let the vampire tuck him into the backseat and buckle him in like a child, and could only hope that cooperating would make whatever was about to happen as painless as possible.

He was doing his best to not think about what might be coming, but with Bowers refusing to answer his questions Simon had nothing to do but think as he shivered in the backseat. The rain had turned the May night cold, and Simon’s thin pajamas did little to keep him warm.

What if he’s taking you to an initiation.

Simon watched Bowers carefully, and waited until he was looking away while making a turn to feel the item Nora had dropped into his pocket.

What if they’re going to pin you down and -

It was a small metal and glass square. An MP3 player? A smartwatch? Simon didn’t want to take it out and look.

He’s not preybonded to you and Lara’s rules are gone, he can kill you. He can kill you.

“Please,” His voice was steadier than he expected, “Tell me what’s happening.”

“I would,” Bowers replied flatly, “But you wouldn’t like it.”

Yeah, no shit.

Matthew wouldn’t have let this happen.

Simon screwed his eyes shut, flinching from the pang of guilt.

Matthew-the-vampire wouldn’t have let this happen. He’s human now, and that’s a good thing. Whatever happens is worth it. Him being human and alive is worth it.

You’re not.

You’re not worth it.

Simon stared out the window and hoped against hope that the square meant help was coming.

~~~

“We can’t just run off without authorization!” Amber yelled.

“Bowers could discover they’re being tracked any second!” Matthew bellowed, “We’re leaving now!”

He and Gina burst out of the stairwell and into the parking garage, Amber chasing after them.

“You’re going to get yourselves killed!” she shrieked.

“What if they get on a plane, huh?” Matthew snapped at her, “What if they go somewhere we can’t follow?”

“We will figure it out!”

They reached Gina’s car and Gina opened the passenger side.

“We can’t wait for Dune to decide that Simon’s worth it,” Matthew kept arguing while Gina searched through her glove box, “I’m not letting him be taken again.”

“Neither am I.” Gina rejoined him, loading a pistol.

“But Bowers is a grade B, he…” Amber’s outrage melted into fear. “With only the two of you against him… He’ll kill you.”

“You could make it three.”

“I…” Amber slowly shook her head.

“You’re a fucking coward, Amber,” Gina spat.

“No, I’m not!” Amber’s voice echoed through the garage, louder and angrier than they had ever heard. “You think anyone will come after you if I go with you? I need to be here, to convince them to send you guys backup!”

Gina and Matthew exchanged a glance. Amber was right - she was the only one in a position to sway the VIU.

“Here.” Amber unstrapped her holster from around her waist and handed it and the gun it held to Matthew.

“Thanks,” he said, softening.

“Just… Survive as long as you can, and I will send backup ASAP.”

Amber stepped out of the way and watched as Gina’s car pulled out of the parking garage.

Then she sprinted back into the building, determined to do what she could.

~~~

Simon slammed into the ground, bruising his knees and scraping his palms raw on the wet asphalt.

“Get up,” Bowers ordered, closing the car door.

“I can’t!” Simon gasped. Bowers grabbed his arm and hauled him upright. He was done playing games. Simon cried out when his feet were forced to touch the ground, but no one was around to hear him.

They were in some sort of warehouse district; massive buildings loomed out of the dark around them, and Simon hadn’t seen a soul on their way in. Whatever Bowers needed this level of privacy for couldn’t be good. Simon’s earlier shocked calm, necessitated to keep Nora alive, had worn off and now he was truly terrified, trembling in Bowers’ grip.

Bowers half dragged, half walked Simon to the door of the warehouse he’d pulled his car up in front of. He threw open the unlocked door and shoved Simon through. Simon fell into the dark, bruising his limbs a second time as he tried to brace his landing. A moment later lights flickered on above him; he was surrounded by sky-high shelves full of plastic-wrapped boxes. He rolled over to look at Bowers, still posed by the light switch. Simon’s heart pounded and his breath came fast.

“Here’s where I come clean.” Bowers reached down and plucked up a length of pipe from where it leaned against the wall, as if waiting for him. It was about three feet long and two inches in diameter, and made of aged dark metal. The ends glinted bright where they were sawn off. 

Bowers started to take leisurely steps towards Simon, who began to pull himself backward along the floor, eyes glued to the pipe.

No.

“Everyone’s noticed by now, since the humans got the cure, and our man Yarl is out, the vampires being caught the fastest are the ex-clients of one Miss Lara Everett.” He twirled the pipe around. “That’s no good for us. No good for business.”

Simon rolled over onto his hands and knees, desperate to get away, to get away faster.

“But of course, none of them can kill you… Not directly, anyway. But I can. So I’m cleaning up, Simon. I took care of Isles and… You’re next.”

Simon froze, petrified.

Christian… dead?

YOU’RE NEXT.

Charged with adrenaline, Simon dug his feet into the floor and ran. The pain ripped a cry out of his throat. He made it two steps before the pain in his feet and his overworked legs made him stumble. His skinned palms crashed into the concrete floor yet again, then his elbow when his right wrist collapsed. But Simon moved through the pain, pushing himself up onto his left hand and his battered knees with a gasp. He could still move, he could still -

Bowers’ shoe stomped into his back, flattening him back to the floor. Simon twisted his head to look up, one cheek pressed against the concrete. Bowers leaned down, putting more weight on Simon’s back and ribcage.

“And since I have to do it anyway,” he smiled, “I may as well enjoy it.” He stepped off of Simon and raised the pipe. Simon twisted his body to the side.

“Please, don’t-!”

The vampire brought the pipe down with a tremendous clang onto Simon’s left hip and a crack shot through Simon’s pelvis. Simon shrieked as the pain lanced up his spine and down his legs like white hot fire. He had no time to process the hit before the pipe came down again, smashing into his femur with a crunch. Simon tried to curl up, to hide from the excruciating pain, to expel it through his mouth, but the next hit shattered his left shoulder blade. His existence felt like one unending screech of agony as he writhed on the concrete under Bowers’ merciless gaze. Bile rose in his throat and he gagged, desperate to fall unconscious, desperate for it to end. He couldn’t even form the words to beg. He could only breathe, scream, breathe, scream.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

“Fuck, you’re loud!” Bowers shouted over Simon’s ceaseless wailing, “Let’s see what we can do about that!”

He seized Simon by the neck and dragged him upright, his back against Bowers’ legs. This sent new waves of pain through Simon’s body as displaced nerves jostled against bone crushed against muscle. Bowers shifted his grip to Simon’s jaw, pulling his already screaming mouth open wider. He lifted the metal rod and shoved the end of it into Simon’s mouth, and pushed, the sharp metal edges tearing, ripping, scraping at the delicate tissue of Simon’s cheeks, his tongue, his throat, as Bowers forced the rod in further, not caring what damage he caused. Simon choked, on the rod, on the blood, on bits of flesh. His screams were finally stifled as he struggled to breathe. His arms flopped uselessly. His eyes rolled.

“Better,” Bowers grunted, “Much better.” He yanked the rod out, splattering blood, and dropped Simon back to the floor where he heaved and choked and spat out blood and chunks of his own throat. Gone was the screaming; now Simon could only agonizingly gag and wheeze.

Bowers raised the rod once more and brought it down on Simon’s right shoulder. Simon’s whole body jerked, but the only sound he made was a horrifying gurgle. He shouldn’t still be awake. He shouldn’t still be alive. It wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair. His brain reverted to primeval instincts: The danger is behind you. Crawl.

Simon dug his fingernails into the concrete and dragged himself, inch by inch, forward. It was the only thing he could do. Maybe, somehow, he could crawl away from the pain. Leave it behind.

Bowers stood back and watched Simon struggle, clawing at the floor until his fingernails broke. Going nowhere.

He laughed, and it echoed throughout the building.

BANG!

Matthew fired from where he stood by the door, gun raised and eyes full of fire. Bowers spun, his hand flying to his shoulder where blood burst from a bullet wound. He crouched and sprang back, taking shelter in an isle of shelves as another shot rang out. Matthew cursed and lowered his weapon, running forward towards Simon. Gina hung back, watching the room like a hawk. Matthew fell to his knees at Simon’s side.

Simon was lying face-down on the ground, silent and still. Blood seeped out of his mouth and bandages around his feet were stained red. Horribly dark and discolored blotches of skin peeked out from his t-shirt. His left leg lay at a sickening angle. Bruises littered his arms; his nails were cracked and bleeding.

“No, Simon…” Matthew reached out to touch him.

“Matthew, look out!” Gina shouted.

Matthew looked up and saw the vampire charging towards him, pipe raised, moving at an unnaturally fast pace. Matthew had just enough time to duck, and he felt the rush of air and heard a faint whistle as the pipe whizzed over his head. A second later and his brains would have been bashed in. Bowers kept sprinting past him, and shots rang out as Gina tried to hit him before he disappeared back into the stacks of boxes.

“Shit, he’s too fast, I can’t hit him!” she yelled.

Matthew stood, staring at the isle Bowers had disappeared into. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with a shaking hand.

“I need to call an ambulance now or it might not arrive in time - Gina!”

Gina turned in time to see Bowers making a run at her out of the stacks. She stood her ground, aiming and firing as he approached. Her shot landed in his chest, but he was unphased, and swung the pipe as he passed her. With no time left to dodge, Gina was hit squarely in the stomach and knocked to the ground. Her body convulsed as she dry heaved and gasped for the air that had been knocked out of her.

“Gina!” If she was down, Bowers would make his next blow a killing one. Matthew started to sprint over to her, but he heard inhumanly quick footsteps behind him. He started to turn but was hit squarely in the right arm.

“Ahhg!”

Pain erupted as his humerus snapped. His arm spasmed and his gun clattered to the floor. He stumbled and only caught a glimpse of Bowers as he vanished back into the maze of warehouse shelves. Matthew looked around wildly, at Gina, struggling to stand, at Simon, a mangled mess on the floor. He couldn’t protect both of them - he couldn’t protect either of them

Bowers was too fast.

Too powerful.

He was going to kill them.

Breathing hard through the pain, Matthew stuffed his phone back into his pocket and scooped up the gun in his left hand. Amber’s gun.

She wasn’t going to get there in time.

He heard Gina scream - a shriek of true fear, something he’d never heard from her before that poured ice down his spine - and he could only watch as Bowers flitted past her and knocked her from where she had just started to stand up back to the concrete with a horrible clang. She lay frighteningly still, a red gash at her temple. Bowers was already gone.

Matthew raised his weapon and spun around, frantically searching for Bowers. His right arm dangled, useless and excruciating. He heard footsteps, but in the large echoing building he had no way of pinpointing their location. They grew louder, faster, and Matthew pivoted to see Bowers rushing towards him, his eyes full of bloodlust and his knuckles white where they gripped the pipe. Matthew fired haphazardly, the first shot flying over Bowers’ shoulder and the second one hitting home in the center of his chest. Bowers finally stumbled, and instead of hitting Matthew with the pipe the vampire tackled him, pressing the pipe down over his throat. Matthew caught it with the heel of his good hand, still holding the gun, but was only able to resist the downward pressure for a moment before the vampire’s superior strength won out and the pipe pressed down on Matthew’s throat. Bowers held the pipe down with one hand and easily plucked the gun away from Matthew with the other, tossing it aside.

Matthew couldn’t breathe. He wheezed and reached up to claw fruitlessly at Bowers’ face. Bowers only smiled, baring his fangs, and bore down on the pipe harder.

“Not so tough now that you’ve been cured, huh?”

Matthew’s legs kicked uselessly against the floor. Bowers held him pinned there for what felt like an eternity. Matthew felt the air in his blood running out as his raised arm wavered and collapsed and his legs stopped moving. Spots filled his vision.

Suddenly the pressure lifted, and Matthew was able to suck in a stinging lungful of air. The relief lasted less than seconds, though, as the pipe was replaced by fangs. They sank into Matthew’s neck, and his chestful of air rushed out of him in a strangled cry. He was able to breath a little now, and movement returned to his limbs, but he could only wriggle and push at the vampire to no effect as Bowers fed, holding Matthew’s neck still with his teeth and his hands on Matthew’s shoulders.

Matthew had never been bitten before. It was expected to happen eventually in his line of work, but senior agents had always warned him: there’s no way of preparing for it.

There’s no way it won’t stick with you.

It’s slower than you think.

As Bowers leeched his vitality from him, Matthew found he could turn his head, ever so slightly, and look around. First to Gina, still motionless on the floor. Then over to Simon, his head in a pool of blood.

He could only be grateful he was dying among friends.

He began to feel cold, and dizzy. He lifted his hand to look at it: pale white and shaking. He could only hold it up for a second before it slumped to the floor. He refocused, as best as he was able, on Simon, who now looked very far away.

I’m so sorry. He couldn’t tell if he was thinking, or speaking, or just mouthing the words.

It shouldn’t have ended like this.

Not for you.

You deserved better.

I love you.

Bowers lifted away from him, and Matthew felt the blood run down his neck.

He must be done.

I must be dead.

Then he heard a horrible hacking cough. With great effort, Matthew rolled his head to look at Bowers.

The vampire was doubled over, clutching his chest, gagging and sputtering.

“No,” Bowers cried out, “No, no!”

He spasmed, and vomited up blood. He turned and screamed wordlessly at Matthew, spattering red. He heaved in a breath, and his own blood leaked out around his fingers where he pressed them to his chest.

“You poisoned me!” he wailed at Matthew, “Fucking turncoat!”

A smile crept over Matthew’s lips.

The cure.

It was in his blood.

It was turning Bowers human - and humans can’t survive two shots to the chest.

At least Matthew could die knowing the three of them had been avenged.

That Simon had been avenged.

His eyes drifted closed as sirens approached in the distance.

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper, @pirefyrelight

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #sunless lives #sunless lives arc 4 #cw negative self talk #cw beating #cw broken bones #cw attempted murder #cw torture #vampire whump #cw gunshots #vampire feeding #cw vomit #cw mouth whump

[coffeebanana]

For the prompt game:

"How did we even get here?"

"Dunno, but maybe we should've read the instructions, huh?"

With Adrino

CW drug use. (well, kind of. they're sort of fantasy drugs that teleport you but may or may not have other effects. and if they ARE drugs they're like shrooms, so nothing addictive)

--- "How did we even get here?" Nino groaned, rubbing his forehead as he slowly pushed himself up off the floor. 

Frankly, Adrien thought he was insane for attempting to sit up at all. Adrien didn't even have the energy to reach up and catch Nino's glasses before they slid from his face; instead he was fated to watch them bounce just out of Nino's reach. The world spun like a top, and the patterns on the rug scratching Adrien's cheek weaved together in front of his eyes in some sort of intricate dance--one that made him certain the threads were trying to seduce him. 

(Or maybe he was high? Could magical ghost mushrooms get you high?)

Nino wanted to know how they'd gotten here. But Adrien wasn't even sure where here was.

"Dunno," he said shakily. "But maybe we should've read the instructions, huh?"

Nino's hand froze midway through fumbling for his glasses, eyes bugging out of his head. "There were instructions?"

"Uh...no." Adrien forced a laugh. "Just a joke."

Adrien looked away, stomach churning. Because nothing about this was funny. None of it made any sense at all.

He'd only wanted to bring his girlfriend back from the dead. So why did her ghost seem dead set--pun NOT intended--on setting him up with his best friend?

---

Thanks for the ask!! 💜

#this is some sort of random AU where marinette is dead and they're trying to solve her murder that's as far as i got in thinking about it #and adrien wants to attempt a little necromancy as a treat #miraculous ladybug #adrino #cw drug use #sort of? #it can be read with or without--in my mind the mushrooms teleported them someplace because they're trying to get clues #and ghost!marinette gave them ghost!shrooms to help with that #but CAN ghost shrooms get you high? hahaha #tbh this is me testing the waters okay because i'm actually slightly terrified about depicting drug use in this fandom #cause akjsdfbskj ppl are very judgy about smut and uh. yeah #this isn't that but it's definitely a sensitive topic so

[that-sad-guy]

rip

#mine #ace attorney #ace attorney dual destinies #dual destinies #bobby fulbright #the phantom ace attorney #cw gun #i think this is by far my most impressive artpiece #ngl i want a compilation of bobby getting out of murder attempts looney tunes style #all the while completely oblivious

[kjack89]

Back to Where We Started (Chapter 3/4)

Third part of the E/R Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU. Read Part 1 here (tumblr | AO3) and Part 2 here (tumblr | AO3).

Modern AU, established E/R.

NAME: [REDACTED – CODEWORD CLASSIFIED] ALIAS: GRANTAIRE SMITH OCCUPATION: ASSASSIN PREFERRED METHOD: SNIPER

Three Years Ago

Grantaire glanced through the scope of his rifle, the oppressive humidity threatening to cause sweat to drip into his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time, and Grantaire had figured out how to mitigate it years ago, but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant sensation.

Not that lying on his stomach in a grove of trees some 500 meters away from his target was any more pleasant, but that he’d gotten used to even sooner than the sweat.

“Target in sight,” he reported, knowing the tiny earbud barely visible in his ear was also a microphone. “Standing by for go order.”

“Copy,” said Joly, sounding bored. “How’s Burundi?”

A fly buzzed in Grantaire’s ear and Grantaire swatted at it, annoyed. “Great,” he said shortly. “Try to schedule my next assassination here too, would you?”

Joly chuckled as a second voice hopped on the line. “Evac route secure,” Bossuet said, “with contingencies one, two and three in place, just in case.”

“Three contingencies?” Grantaire asked mildly. “Are we planning on the entire world falling apart, or…?”

“Hey, with my luck, you can never be too careful.”

Grantaire grinned, all too aware of Bossuet’s luck, and was ready to make a comment as such when a third voice chimed in, this time disapprovingly. “Gentlemen,” Javert said, “let’s keep chatter on this channel to a minimum.”

Grantaire’s shoulders automatically straightened when he heard Javert’s voice. “Yes, sir,” he said, looking through the scope of his rifle again, though his target had barely moved. “Can I ask something, sir?”

Javert sighed. “You’re going to ask it regardless, so you might as well.”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth before saying, somewhat cautiously, “As you know, I’ve been here for a few days, getting acquainted with the place and the general’s movements. Everyone that I’ve spoken with says that General Lamarque is a good man, that he wants to repair a lot of the damage done by previous, corrupt administrations and return power to the people of Burundi. Which begs the question—”

“Are you questioning your orders?” Javert snapped, unusually terse, even for one of his darker moods.

“No, but—”

“But nothing,” Javert said. “Your orders are in service of your country—”

If Grantaire had anything resembling a self-preservation instinct, he would’ve dropped it. Of course, if Grantaire had anything resembling a self-preservation instinct, he wouldn’t be in this line of work, so it was somewhat of a moot point. “How is increased instability in this region in service of anyone?” he asked. “Except for, say, global shipping magnates who need the Horn of Africa unstable to justify price gouging?”

Javert sighed, and Grantaire could just picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “And here I thought you didn’t care about anything.”

Grantaire scowled. There was little he liked less than having his own words flung back in his face. “I don’t.”

“Good,” Javert said coolly. “Because if you’ve somehow found morality, we’re done, and you’re stuck in Burundi with an illegal firearm, a forged passport, and no means of getting home.”

Grantaire ground his teeth together. “Might be worth it,” he muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, before adding sourly, “sir.”

“Good,” Javert said. There was a brief moment of silence, then: “We have the go order. As soon as you have a shot, take it.”

“But—”

“Take your shot, Grantaire.”

Grantaire swallowed, hard, and looked back down the scope of his rifle, his finger resting lightly on his trigger. Someone moved in front of General Lamarque and Grantaire held his breath, but the person moved away, leaving Grantaire with the perfect shot, and—

CLICK.

Three years later, and the only shots Grantaire was taking were with his camera. And the occasional shot at a bar, though it wasn’t like he and Enjolras frequented any of the local establishments. Enjolras had never been one for drinking.

One of a hundred small differences between them that had seemed so minor three years ago and now stretched like an endless chasm between them.

He had hoped couples therapy would help, even if he’d been reluctant to go initially, but thus far, there’d been no change. 

Grantaire sighed and shifted. He was half-lying in the otherwise empty stands of the high school football stadium, trying to get the perfect shot of the team practicing for the local paper. He didn’t usually do newspaper assignments, on the off-chance his name in print somehow wound up in the wrong hands, but he doubted anyone would pay any attention to the credit on a story about a high school football team with a five-game losing streak.

He sat up, deeming the pictures he’d gotten as good as he was going to get, and was surprised to see Enjolras striding toward the stadium from the parking lot.

Well, that was new. Enjolras never came to see him work.

Maybe the therapy had more of an effect than Grantaire gave it credit for.

Maybe—

The telltale ping of a bullet striking a metal bleacher not even two feet to Grantaire’s left was enough to tell him that this sure as shit didn’t have anything to do with therapy, and he scrambled to his feet, reaching automatically for his own gun, only to remember that he hadn’t brought one.

Because he was at a high school, in America, and he wasn’t a fucking idiot.

Enjolras, evidently, had no similar compunction.

Enjolras raised his hand to fire off another shot and Grantaire darted backwards, swinging around the bleacher railing and taking the steps two at a time to get to the bottom. From there, it was an all-out sprint to his car, well aware that Enjolras was in close pursuit, well aware that even with a silencer, someone was bound to figure out that Enjolras was shooting at him.

And inevitably, someone would wonder the same thing Grantaire was: why the fuck was his husband trying to kill him?

As soon as he was in his car and away from the school (with only two bullet holes in his back windshield), Grantaire called a number he hadn’t called in years. “Thank God you’re alive,” Joly said, sounding genuinely relieved, and Grantaire almost cracked a smile until he caught sight of Enjolras’s car in his rearview mirror.

“For now, at least,” he said, taking a left so sudden that his tires squealed. “I’ll take it you have a better idea than I do of why my husband is trying to kill me?”

“Two sets of documents, both classified higher than top secret, were leaked this morning,” Joly told him. “One involved you, and your identity, and the assassination of General Lamarque.”

Grantaire swallowed and nodded. “Right,” he said. “Well, I guess I probably should’ve expected something about that to leak at some point. What was the second?”

“Intelligence on the movements of an international terrorist organization know as Les Amis de l’ABC,” Joly said, a little grimly. “And that’s where your husband comes in. Because somehow, of all the gin joints in all the world, you wound up in the one that an international terrorist decided to walk into.”

Grantaire almost laughed, thoroughly convinced that Joly couldn’t possibly be serious, but then he realized that Joly hadn’t exactly sounded like he was making a joke. “He – what?”

Five minutes, and three very circuitous routes later, Grantaire was convinced that he’d finally lost Enjolras – and that he’d never really had him in the first place. “Well, at least it explains why he tried to kill me,” he said, a little hollowly, staring down an unfamiliar road without really seeing it. 

Joly cleared his throat. “Speaking of trying to kill you, you’ve probably thought of this already, but you can’t go back to your house?”

Grantaire frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t you think that’s exactly what he’ll be expecting? He’s probably booby trapped the entire thing.”

Despite everything, Grantaire cracked a smile. “Is Bossuet on this call?”

Joly was cautious in his response. “He’s listening in. Why?”

“Because I can only imagine him giggling at the word booby.”

“No comment,” Joly said with a sigh, which meant Grantaire had been correct. “But I mean it, you can’t go back there. At least not by yourself. You need—”

“What, a human shield?” Grantaire asked with a snort.

“If you can find one, sure.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “That’s not—”

He broke off abruptly, the idea coming to him in a flash of sudden genius. “Grantaire?” Joly prompted, and Grantaire grinned.

“Yeah. I just thought of someone I can use.”

“Oh?”

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah. Since we were speaking of boobies…”

— — — — —

Grantaire opened the front door and took an immediate step back, his hand automatically falling to his side and the gun he had holstered under his jacket. “Wow,” his next-door neighbor, Marius, said, peering inside excitedly. “So this is the place. I’ve been dying to get a look.”

“Take your time,” Grantaire said, following him in. 

Marius shook his head with something like wonder as he glanced around the foyer. “Wow,” he repeated. “I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before.”

He made to turn towards the kitchen but Grantaire stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder and steering him in the opposite direction. “Let’s start in the living room.”

Marius didn’t protest, too busy gazing at the floors. “I love these floors,” he told Grantaire, who was, in turn, busy checking every sightline for anything out of place. “What are they, teak?”

“Red oak,” Grantaire told him, sidling past him to peer around the entryway into the dining room. Something was out of place, but Grantaire couldn’t put a finger on it, and it was taking everything in him not to draw his gun.

“You know, I inherited my house from my grandfather, I’m sure you must’ve met him,” Marius said, though Grantaire was barely paying attention. “What color are these walls? I’m thinking of redoing the upstairs hallway and I think—

“Honestly, I don’t remember offhand,” Grantaire told him. “Why don’t you keep looking around? I just have to pop upstairs and check on something.”

He didn’t wait for Marius’s reply, pulling his gun as soon as he was out of Marius’s sight and taking the stairs two at a time. He moved swiftly but efficiently, checking each room before he finally got to the bedroom he’d evidently been sharing with an international terrorist for the last three years, and he held his breath before he pushed the door open.

And that was when he finally realized what was out of place.

The drawers on Enjolras’s side of the dresser were half-opened, and empty. The closet doors were wide open, revealing that Enjolras’s side was completely cleared out. His half of the bathroom sink, as clean as if a toothbrush and bottles of hair product had never even sat on it. Every knick-knack, bauble and sock that had belonged to Enjolras had disappeared.

Enjolras was gone.

Five minutes later, Grantaire had unceremoniously ushered Marius from the house, promising that he’d send over the name of the paint once he remembered. 

Then he remembered that there was one other place he’d forgotten to check for booby traps.

He drew his gun for a second time as he crossed the yard to his shed. The dark room was just a cover for the far more important set up underneath, and he just hoped against hope that Enjolras hadn’t thought to check beyond the surface.

When he yanked the door open and saw the hidden trap door open, and the light from the downstairs flickering, he knew that Enjolras had.

When he smelled the telltale scent of gasoline, he also knew that Enjolras hadn’t bothered booby trapping the house.

He got ten feet from the shed before it exploded, sending him flying in a spray of wood splinters and shattered glass, and he lay on the lawn for a long moment afterwards, blinking dazedly up at the sky before groaning.

“Son of a bitch.”

— — — — —

Where did someone go after killing their husband, especially when that someone didn’t have a passport or means of fleeing the country yet? 

After driving around aimlessly for a few hours, Enjolras figured he might as well take himself out for dinner. Maybe even enjoy a cocktail in Grantaire’s honor.

There was exactly one semi-fancy restaurant in their town, and at the hour, it was barely even a third full, and everyone else in the place was at least an octogenarian. One old couple was even dancing, because life seemed full of cruel ironies.

Not that witnessing someone else happy and in love was particularly cruel, in the grand scheme of things, but as Enjolras watched them, taking a sip of champagne that the waiter brought, he couldn’t help but think that, prior to about twelve hours ago, he might’ve even believed that that would be him and Grantaire one day.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and Enjolras shook his head, feeling foolish. He hadn’t actually known Grantaire, any more than Grantaire had known him. What was there to miss, other than the best sex Enjolras had ever had?

And the way Grantaire made him eggs every morning when Enjolras actually slept in. And the way he laughed at Enjolras’s jokes, no matter how stupid, that deep rumble of a belly laugh that Enjolras could feel even more than he could hear. And how Grantaire had never tried to make Enjolras into something other than what he was, had never had any expectations for their life together other than them just existing together in the same space. And the way Grantaire said ‘I love you’, as if it was just as miraculous as it had been the first time around.

He hadn’t known Grantaire. Or maybe he had, in all the ways that mattered.

Frustrated, he reached up to brush the tear off with the back of his hand, freezing when someone’s hand closed around his wrist. “You know, I thought I’d come up with something clever to say by the time I got here,” Grantaire said. “But all I could think of was that there are easier ways to blow up a marriage.”

Enjolras closed his eyes for just a moment, torn between relief and fury that Grantaire was still alive. “LIke what?”

He opened his eyes to look up at Grantaire, who gave him that stupid smile that he loved and hated in equal measure. “Try this: I want a divorce.”

“Do you?” Enjolras asked, taking another sip of champagne. “Or do you want me to ask you?”

Grantaire just shrugged. “I asked you to marry me. Seems only fitting you be the one to ask for the divorce. May I sit?”

He gestured toward the open seat across from Enjolras. “No,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire sat anyway. Enjolras ground his teeth together for a moment before casually rearranging the napkin in his lap to cover the gun he’d just grabbed from his bag. Grantaire tracked the movement, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He casually tipped his own napkin into his lap, and a moment later Enjolras heard the telltale click of the safety being switched off.

For one long moment, they just stared at each other, as if seeing each other for the very first time. Which in a way, Enjolras mused, they were. He broke the silence, impatience sparking within the tension. “So what do you want?”

Grantaire leaned forward. “Well, at the moment, I’d settle for a drink, but—”

“I’m serious.”

“And I am wild.” That small smile again, the one that drove Enjolras completely crazy. “Something you’ve probably never given any credence to prior to today.”

Enjolras hadn’t, not really, but he didn’t like being reminded that he had spent all this time underestimating Grantaire. He looked away before repeating, “What do you want?”

“We appear to have a problem,” Grantaire said, tracing one finger along the linen tablecloth. “You obviously want me dead. And I’m less and less concerned about your wellbeing. So where do we go from here?” He arched an eyebrow at Enjolras. “Do we go for a shootout here? Or to minimize civilian casualties, should we take this somewhere more intimate?”

“As if you’ve ever once in your life cared about civilian casualties,” Enjolras said coolly.

Grantaire didn’t even flinch. “Right back at you, babe.” Silence again stretched between them, but this time it was Grantaire who broke it. “Dance with me.”

Enjolras blinked. “You don’t dance,” he blurted, which was a stupid thing to say to a monumentally stupid proposition.

Grantaire grinned. “All just part of my cover,” he said, standing up and offering Enjolras his hand.

Despite himself, despite every self-preservation instinct Enjolras had honed over the years, he took Grantaire’s hand, allowing him to pull him to his feet. “Was being a slob part of your cover, too?” he asked blithely.

Without warning, Grantaire twisted his hand, the move just this side of painful, twirling Enjolras so that they were facing each other. Then Grantaire pulled him flush, his hand resting on the small of Enjolras’s back. “So what do you think?” he asked as they began dancing, and Enjolras had to give him credit, he did in fact know how to dance. “Is this story going to have a happy ending?”

“Happy endings are just stories that haven’t finished yet,” Enjolras told him, sliding his own hand from Grantaire’s shoulder down his side, checking for a shoulder holster. Feeling none, he continued southward, though Grantaire stopped him once he got to his belt. 

“Only thing you’ll find down there isn’t a weapon,” he murmured in Enjolras’s ear, pulling him flush again to prove his point.

Enjolras swallowed and looked away. “Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his voice rough. “Bet you use that thing on all your marks.”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Is that why you tried to kill me?” he asked, his lips just brushing against Enjolras’s ear. “Because you think I fucked General Lamarque before putting a bullet through his head?”

Enjolras stiffened, pulling away from Grantaire. “That—” he started, but he couldn’t find the words to continue. “I have to go.”

“Enjolras—” Grantaire called after him, but Enjolras didn’t pause. “Enjolras!”

It only occurred to Enjolras some ten minutes later that he had nowhere to go, that he was driving with no actual destination in mind, trying to escape a life that had all been a lie.

He was broken from his reverie by his cellphone ringing, and he answered it on his car’s screen. “Grantaire?”

Grantaire sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, and to his credit, he did sound it.

Enjolras drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “For what?”

“For what I said,” Grantaire told him. “It was a low blow.”

Enjolras jerked a shrug, even though Grantaire couldn’t see him. “Well, I did try to kill you, so fair is fair, I guess.”

Grantaire was silent for a long moment, long enough that Enjolras almost asked if he was still there. “Can I ask you something?”

It was probably a bad idea – anything that prolonged the inevitable was almost certainly a bad idea – but Enjolras just sighed. “Fine.”

“First time we met, what was your first thought?”

Enjolras’s chest felt tight. “You tell me.”

Something in Grantaire’s tone turned wistful. “You know that painting, Liberty Leading the People? I thought you looked like that. Like righteous fury striding into my life.” He sighed. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

The tightness in Enjolras’s chest had sharpened. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“I guess in the end, you start thinking about the beginning,” Grantaire said, before clearing his throat. “So there it is. I thought you should know.” He paused before prompting, “So how about it?”

Enjolras swallowed, hard. “I thought…” He trailed off, that damned tear making a reappearance on his cheek, and he hurriedly wiped it off before saying, his voice harsh, “I thought you looked like an easy mark.”

Grantaire didn’t seem surprised. “So it was all business.”

Enjolras nodded. “All business.”

“From the go.”

“I’ve never been one to ignore reality,” Enjolras said with forced nonchalance.

Grantaire barked a laugh. “Thank you,” he said softly. “That’s all I needed to know. Can you do me just one favor?”

“What?”

“Meet me at home,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras’s chest clenched again. “And let’s finish this for real.”

— — — — —

Enjolras could see Grantaire’s headlights as he approached the driveway, and he slammed on the gas, narrowly avoiding clipping the front of Grantaire’s car. He zoomed into the garage, shutting the garage door behind him.

He might’ve gotten rid of Grantaire’s stash of guns, but that didn’t mean he’d been stupid enough not to leave anything in the house, and he grabbed his semi-automatic pistol from where he’d hidden it and screwed on the suppressor as he waited for the front door to open.

Instead, he heard a faint creak from the upstairs, and despite himself, he smiled, just slightly. So Grantaire wasn’t going to make this easy on him. Good. One last fight, for old times’ sake.

He crouched at the base of the stairs, waiting until he could sense someone hesitating at the top. Then he stood and fired a series of shots at the top of the stairs before ducking back into place.

“You still alive?” he called.

In response, Grantaire fired a shotgun directly where Enjolras’s head had been ten seconds earlier.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He raced toward the kitchen, firing a few cover shots over his shoulder as he went. God, he’d missed this. Missed the adrenaline humming in his veins, missed the acrid smell of gunpowder, missed the thrill of being alive for at least one second more. 

He hadn’t had this much fun since—

The vase next to him exploded into shards of ceramic, and Enjolras hit the floor, squeezing off a rapid succession of shots in the direction the shot had come from. “Your aim’s as bad as your cooking,” Grantaire called. “And that’s saying something.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed and he fired twice more before moving further back into the kitchen, ducking behind the island for cover as he checked how much ammo he had left. “Your aim’s not so great yourself,” he said distractedly. “Especially considering—”

“Considering what?” Grantaire asked, and Enjolras felt the cold press of metal against his temple. “Drop the gun.” Enjolras closed his eyes for a moment, obediently letting the gun in his hand clatter to the floor. “Good. Now—”

Enjolras’s hand shot out, grabbing Grantaire’s wrist and twisting, hard, forcing him to drop his own gun. Then, he laid into him. 

He had never been one for fist-fighting, preferring myriad other ways to get done what he needed to, but he knew how to throw a punch. Grantaire, for his part, matched him blow for blow, dodging and blocking with a practiced ease, something strangely graceful in his motions, clearly just as adept at hand to hand combat as he was at sniping world leaders.

Except—

Enjolras froze so suddenly that Grantaire’s fist went wide by a whole foot, sending him spinning from the momentum, and in an instance, both men had dropped to grab their respective guns, aiming at each other. “What was that?” Grantaire asked, panting.

“You tell me,” Enjolras said. “Or am I really supposed to believe you missed every shot you took tonight on accident?”

Grantaire wiped a dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth on his shoulder. “I’m out of practice.”

“So what do you call being practiced enough to block 95% of my punches and not land a single one of your own?”

“Coincidence.”

“Fine.” Enjolras took a step back, his hand falling to his side. “So then go for it. Right here, right now. Take your shot.”

Grantaire scowled. “You think I won’t?”

“No,” Enjolras said. “I don’t.”

Something shifted in Grantaire’s face, and after a moment, he lowered his weapon as well. “I can’t,” he said. “Can’t do it.”

Enjolras gritted his teeth. “Come on,” he half-shouted. “You can kill how many people, but you can’t kill me?”

“No,” Grantaire said. “I can’t.”

Then, without warning, he crossed to Enjolras, pulling him close, as close as they had been while dancing. But this time, he kissed him, an open-mouthed, fiery kiss full of all the heat and fury Enjolras had felt during their fight. 

Only this was better. So much better.

He balled his free hand in what remained of Grantaire’s shirt, pulling him close, determined to savor this moment for as long as he could, knowing far too well that they quite likely had very few of them left.

But then, as Grantaire pulled away, just slightly, his stubble brushing against Enjolras’s cheek, he said something that for a moment almost made Enjolras doubt everything. “This was always real for me,” he whispered in Enjolras’s ear.

But it wasn’t – it couldn’t have been. Not when the entirety of it was built on a lie of omission. “Well, not all of it,” he murmured.

“Fine,” Grantaire said, undeterred. “But you and me – that was real.”

Enjolras closed his eyes. “Grantaire—”

“No, I have to get this out,” Grantaire told him, breathless. “I have to tell you, because—”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Grantaire, don’t. If anyone gets it, if anyone understands how this works—”

“I didn’t kill him, Enjolras.”

Enjolras stared at him, at the tiny flecks of silver he had never noticed in Grantaire’s eyes. “What?” he croaked.

Grantaire squeezed his hand. “I didn’t kill General Lamarque.”

>>Read Part 4 here.>>

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #spies and assassins au #mr and mrs smith au #gun violence cw #gun shot cw #attempted murder cw #joly #bossuet #javert #marius pontmercy #as a treat

[koolkat9]

My sibling is researching about changlings and something about putting changlings in ovens keeps coming up and now I'm wondering. Do you think little Arthur was shoved into an oven once because they thought he was a changling 🤔

#hetalia #it was a welesh and german thing #but considering he'd be hanging around dylan #hws #hws england #cw child murder #just in case #well attempted #he doesn't stay dead