#i was like kill kill murder clawing my eyes out killing that fictional guy with my own bare hands and then jumping off the roof

[missshigaraki]

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

Yuji Itadori x reader x ryomen sukuna

Genre: smut + fluff

Word count: 2.1k

snip: Sukuna taking over Yuji’s body at inappropriate times.

Notes: Hehe hey guys! So this is my first fan fiction ever and I'm super excited to post it on here for you guys! I hope you guys enjoy it! Stay safe babies!

Warnings: 18+, rough sex, murder, fingering, mentions of demons, noncon / dubcon

You had only been dating Yuji for 10 months, but there was no denying that you had fallen head over heels in love with him. Who wouldn’t?  He was super sweet, charming, respectful. So, when the first time it happened, you were taken by surprise.

The two of you were coming home after a nice walk in the park and it was getting late. You had no idea where the three men had come from, let alone why they had decided to target you and your boyfriend, but as strong as you knew your boyfriend was, just by the looks of it, you were not sure if he could handle all three of these guys at once.

It all happened so fast; it gave you whiplash. One of the men grabbed you, while the other two surrounded your poor boyfriend. At the time you weren’t sure what was going on or what they wanted, your ears ringing with adrenaline. “Tell Sukuna we want to talk.” One of the men shouted at your boyfriend. “If not, we’ll tear this pretty little thing to shreds” The one with a death grip on you stated.

Now you were confused, who is Sukuna? Who were these men? You shot your boyfriend a look of fear, but to your surprise, in return, you received a look of adoration from him, a look that almost spoke “don’t worry, you’re safe.”

Right before your eyes, Yuji began to transform. Dark lines appearing on his face, on the back of his necks, but what pushed you over the edge, what made you scream were the two pairs of eyes the seemed to appear underneath his regular pair. Before you could even comprehend that this was no longer your boyfriend in front of you. The two men that surrounded your boyfriend dropped to the floor, it took you another minute to realize that their heads were no longer attached to their bodies.

This realization left you frozen. You’d think that watching the person you thought to be your boyfriend murder people right before your eyes would have any girl running for the hills but some reason, unbeknownst to you, you remained grounded. Unable to move, unable to talk, just stuck.

Snapping you out of your state of shock was a soft thud right below your foot, what you saw when you looked down, had another blood-curdling scream tearing from your throat. At your foot laid a bloody arm, the body nowhere to be found. You were just about to take off running when something grabbed your other hand.

Looking up you saw the man who looked exactly like your boyfriend, only his eyes were a searing red, and his body was decorated with thick black lines and dots.

“Y-Yuji?” you managed to squeak out in the sweetest voice. There was no telling what could happen at this given moment, you were scared that this man in front of you was going to kill you without question, just like he had done to the three men who had dared disrupt the night out with your boyfriend, but despite this possibility, you didn’t run. Maybe you were naive or just plain crazy, but you refused to leave the man that you had grown to love so dearly, the man you knew as Yuji Itadori.

“Guess again sweetheart.” The man sneered. His voice deeper than Yuji’s, almost demon-like. A look of confusion and fear and realization washed over you all at once. This was not Yuji. “Shh don't worry that pretty little head, I’m not going to hurt you” He said patting your face. “The brat would kill me.” He said as he reached one of his clawed fingers down to wipe away the tears that involuntarily fell from your eyes.

“W-who are y-you?” You asked with an uncontrollable stutter. A grin wider than anything you had ever seen before appeared on his face. “That’s a question you’re going to have to ask your little boyfriend.” He said in an almost condescending tone. “I hope to be seeing your pretty face again real soon.” And just like that, as quickly as they had appeared, the black body art was gone, along with the second pair of eyes.

The events of that night took place nearly 2 months ago, since then your boyfriend had explained everything to you. How he was a host to what he referred to as “A thousand-year-old demon parasite known as Sukuna.” Which surprisingly made you laugh. He explained how it all happened and that the only reason he kept it from you was because he didn’t know how to tell you that he was living with the king of curses inside of him.

Much to his surprise, and everyone else, you didn’t leave him. How could you? You had grown to love Yuji and “I wouldn’t leave you even if you were Satan’s vessel.”

And God, this made him adore you even more. You loved him for him and all of his flaws. He couldn’t even describe in words the love he had for you.

It has been exactly a year since you and Yuji started dating, and everything was a dream. It seemed like after the incident with Sukuna, you two had gotten closer. You couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for your boyfriend to tell you such a secret, and you wanted to show him how much you appreciated him for it.

The two of you hadn’t had sex yet, and you thought “what better time than now? On our 1st anniversary.” You went shopping for the prettiest little lingerie set you could find and invited your unsuspecting boyfriend over for a night full of fun.

When Yuji arrived in your cute little apartment you wasted no time, you dragged your boyfriend by his hand into your room. You shut the door before pushing him flat the bed, removing your oversized T-shirt, and climbing on top of him. The look of shock on your boyfriend's face quickly transformed into a shit-eating grin. “Eager, are we kitten?” He chuckled as he grabbed onto your waist.

“ I-I just feel like you’ve fully given yourself to me, and I just w-want to give you the same in return.” You say, unable to look make eye contact as his eyes scanned your half-naked body. “Hey, hey look at me.” His hand reached out to grab your chin, turning your face so you were looking directly into his light brown eyes. “There is no rush, you gave me all of you when you accepted me for me, all of me, that’s all I could ask for from you kitten.” The same look that you were so accustomed to was in his eyes, pure adoration. “I know you say that, but we’ve been dating for a year now Yu, I want to do this.” The skin on your cheeks heating up from the thought of finally being intimate with your boyfriend. Before you know it, Yuji has you flipped over, laying on your back, and while he hovers over your frame. “I mean, who am I to deny such a cute little thing some pleasure then?” This wasn’t your first-time having sex but with Yuji, everything felt so new, like it was your first time all over again.

“Whenever you feel uncomfortable, you just let me know.” He said as he started to unhook your bra. The excitement in his eyes was hard to miss. He looked mesmerizing from where you were, almost Godly. As beautifully distracting as your boyfriend was, nothing could prepare you for the feeling of his thick fingers sliding into your exposed hole. You were so entranced by him; you hadn’t even noticed when he slipped off your panties. Although it wasn’t your first time, the stretch was almost unbearable, despite being so wet.

“Look how wet you are kitten.” He said through a shit-eating grin, his voice all of a sudden dropping an octave, that grin looked so familiar to the one you had seen almost 2 months prior. You couldn’t help the chill that shot through your spine, causing you to rethink the decision you had made. Should I be worried? Maybe this isn’t a good idea. How easy is it for Sukuna to take control of Yuji?

“Hey, I’ve got you, don’t worry.” And just like that, all your worries were gone, you shot him a shy smile, the same smile he had so easily fallen for the first time he laid eyes on you, the same smile that he’d search for in a crowd. The same smile reminding him that you were all his. He gave you a look, and you nodded in reassurance. You wanted this, you needed it. Without any further warning, he pushed himself past your entrance, into your wet gummy walls. The moan that escaped his mouth had you unknowingly clamping down on him.

“Fuck you’re so tight! ‘M gonna need you to relax kitten, or thi- “A deep moan cutting him off mid-sentence. “Fuck, this isn’t gonna last too long” His strokes start out slow and calculated, but when he notices your eyes rolling back, it awakens something in him, something almost demonic. Without any warning his thrusts become faster and deeper, his grip tighter and if it weren’t for the leg shaking, eye shutting sensation, you would have noticed the body art appearing on his face or the way his now bright red eyes glistened in the dim moonlight that shone through your cracked window. But no, none of that caught your attention, it was only when you felt like his cock had gotten just the slightest bit bigger, that you decided to speak up. “H-Hurts Yu-Yuji, p-please slow down.” You pleaded, only receiving a deep moan in return. “Y-Yuji please!” You said this time, a bit louder.

“That little brat got a bit too excited, don’t worry your pretty little head though, I’ll make you feel better than he ever could.” You couldn’t even describe the way your heart dropped into your stomach. Just like that your biggest worries were turning into reality. “S-Sukuna? Please S-stop, please!” You pleaded with the curse that had taken over your boyfriend’s body. “Please let Yuji back.” You tried your best not to panic, as not to anger the year-old demon that was now pounding mercilessly into you, but the pain of his thrusts and the fear of what he might do to you made it difficult to keep calm.

“Oh, come on, what’s the matter? You only want that idiot Itadori fucking this pretty little pussy? Well, that’s kinda selfish, wouldn’t you say?” He sneers as his index finger finds its way down to your swollen clit. With just one flick of your sensitive nub, Sukuna has you creaming all over his thick shaft, making you whimper in agony, or maybe its pleasure? Your mind is too hazy to decipher the sensation. “Well, would you look at that Yuji, the pretty little slut seems to be enjoying this even more than I would have imagined.” Your eyes widen at the mention of your boyfriend’s name. Cheeks searing at the idea of him witnessing how easily you had succumbed to the demon inside him.

“P-please Yuji, h-hurts s’bad” You whimper, looking into the bright red eyes that once were a sweet light brown. Part of you wondered, hoped that Yuji could hear you, but the rough, consistent pounding of Sukuna’s cock made it very difficult to focus on the idea of your boyfriend coming to your rescue.

“How many times do I have to tell you sweetheart? Itadori couldn’t handle this little cunt, sent me to breed you full of this demon cum.” And with a final thrust and a deep beast-like growl, you felt rope after rope of his searing load infiltrates your throbbing cunt. You don’t know how long you laid there, tears streaming down your face, but you were pulled out of your trance-like state by a soft voice. “Kitten? Please look at me.” Yuji was now very much himself; the body art had disappeared, and his beautiful light brown eyes were now staring at you almost apologetically. “I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby. I got worked up and he just came out, did he hurt you? I-I...” He was at a loss for words, Yuji hadn’t been with anyone besides you since becoming Sukuna’s vessel, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

You were shaken up, but as much as the encounter with Sukuna scared you, you couldn’t deny that it felt good, yes it was a bit uncomfortable, but you had never had an orgasm like the one you just experienced. You shook your head at your boyfriend, letting him know that you weren’t hurt. You looked up at him with a look of understanding. “There was no way you could have anticipated that Yuji, I guess in a way, I’m dating both you and Sukuna. Might as well get used to those sudden intrusions, huh?”

© all content belongs to missshigaraki 2022. do not repost or modify.

#jjk x reader #jjk yuuji #jjk itadori #jjk sukuna #sukuna #itadori smut #itadori headcanons #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk smut #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen gojo

[sarcasmandships]

why derek hale deserves better:

derek hale’s character had so much potential to bring attention to male survivors of sexual violence, particularly when perpetrated by an older, attractive female and break away from the ���oh but she’s hot, you’re so lucky’ (looking at u ryan murphy) trope that is disgustingly common in media but jeff davis is a weak ass bitch and just introduces a character with endless trauma but refuses to recognise or develop it??

he also has endless trauma from his family being hate crime’d to death and his surviving sister being murdered and having her body mutilated but apparently derek is unaffected with this and the only time we see him express a feeling about it is when the plot needs tension between the werewolves and the hunters??

throughout teen wolf we see examples of bodily autonomy and consent being taken away, most notably with stiles and the nogitsune and lydia being controlled by peter - but the same attention never seems to be given to derek who was taken of advantage to by kate (twice!!) so that she could burn his entire family alive and then use him to control her were-jaguar impulses - a series of events which leads to him (temporarily) losing his powers and making him feel overwhelmingly helpless and vulnerable as he becomes more human/loses a key part of his identity

tw: rape mention

not that the weird kate/derek dynamic needs to be pointed out but he was an emotionally vulnerable teenager and she was a grown woman who committed statutory rape (im not sure of derek’s age to say whether it was legally statutory rape but in my brain she took advantage of someone much younger and more naive than her and im going to consider this statutory rape from my own moral standpoint) against him whilst actively hunting people like him

even when derek is an adult the dynamic between them is toxic like when she shoots him with a wolfsbane bullet and that weird scene when she has him locked up and licks his abs? their dynamic always has derek in a vulnerable position regardless of his age, and show kate to have the upper hand, and their scenes (the scene when kate reveals werewolves to allison comes to mind again) always seem to have a degree of sexual coding like was it necessary for derek to be shirtless in that scene? no - and it was probably intended to be from more of a ‘let’s show of tyler hoechlin’s abs’ perspective but (to me personally and likely for others) it doesn’t come across that way it just shows derek again in a vulnerable position, at the hands of a woman who has taken advantage of him in the past and he is being unecessarily sexualised

not sexually motivated but he was also manipulated by his uncle (who at this time he seemed to trust) into a series of events which ended in him having to kill the girl he loves (which in turn leads to being used and manipulated by another woman years later) and the only residual impact this seems to have on him is ‘ooo he has blue eyes’, this undoubtedly puts derek in an emotionally vulnerable position which may have aided in kate being able to manipulate him but we still never see any real impact of this on derek in canon

i know he his portrayed as a private and reserved character but there was so much wasted potential here and the lack of attention given to the trauma in derek’s past really minimises the horror of it and makes it easier for the casual viewer to dismiss the impact that trauma like that would have on a person if they were not a fictional character - he doesn’t even seem to get any attention from the other characters in the show who are made aware of derek’s past including kate, paige, and the fire but it’s like ‘derek will be derek’ rather than ‘wtf this guy needs help and support’, although i would’ve liked a developed plot where derek confronts and overcomes all the shit he’s been put thorough I’d have accepted a crumb of derek getting the emotional support he needs

jennifer (who we know to be a master manipulator) is the second woman who uses sex to manipulate derek as she tries to use him to help her take down the alpha pack and in the process of her plan she nearly kills derek’s sister and derek gives up his alpha powers to save her, once again leaving him less powerful than he was before and leaving him vulnerable

isaac makes a comment about how derek was ‘rolling around the sheets with the real killer’ as though derek was supposed to know that jennifer was the darach when no one else had figured it out/even suspected her - jennifer kills stiles’ friend and nearly kills lydia, but she doesn’t have as much impact on any other main character as she does on derek - we don’t know too much about the nature of their relationship but derek does go to her after he is injured episode 3x05/3x06(?) and he does have some feelings for her and wants to protect her - at the very least they have an emotional connection and jennifer uses sex and intimacy to manipulate derek like a pawn in her overall plan

continuing with the themes of bodily autonomy and consent derek’s body is repeated used against his will - like in season 2 when scott forces derek to bite gerard (although this was part of a larger plan this doesn’t take away from the fact that derek’s autonomy was stripped away again) and in season 3 when derek’s claws are used to kill boyd- not only painful for him because he is taking the life of a friend and a member of his own pack but also because of derek’s ‘im a predator but i don’t have to be a killer’ line which shows us that CHOICE is important to him and he wants to have control over the actions and path he takes (which is probably fair to say for most people but is specifially an important part of derek’s character)

overall, derek is repeatedly manipulated by people he is supposed to trust and care for - he has a whole lot of trauma for his teen years which could have been so well addressed in the show and brought awareness to male sexual violence (already unrepresented) and teen wolf could’ve really stood out against other teen dramas but jeff davis and the writers weren’t willing to go in that direction (but they still gave us the train wreck of season 4??) and instead derek’s character is left as this stoic, eye candy guy with so much wasted potential

rant over x

(soz for any spelling mistakes/bad grammar but it’s half one in the morning here n i had a lot of thoughts to get out before i went to sleep)

#Derek Hale deserved better #this was LONG so shoutout to u if u read all of my rant x #teen wolf #Jeff Davis #stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #kate argent #lydia martin #scott mcall #derek hale deserves nice things #sarcasmandships #tw: rape mention

[openheart12]

Hi, yes, hello beautiful! Can you write a fic where MC accidentally sends Ethan her entire fanfic folder by mistake 😂🤣

How To Get Away With Fanfiction

I’m reliving my embarrassment 😭 but it is done and idk wtf happened with this lmao. This is also to make up for earlier kmjhygfd

Only tagging @ao719 @oofchoices @loveellamae @burnsoslow because no one else should have to read this unless they click on the read more and if they do... god bless. And thank you to Maroe for helping me come up with some of these ideas!

It had been a long day at work when Dr. Gertrude-Sue Claws made her way home to do the one thing that relaxed her; writing fanfiction.

She had thought of the perfect idea for Spirit and Rainbow Dash and her fingers flew across the keyboard.

There was something about the multi colors in his mane and tail that drew him to her. He lived by the phrase, “hump ‘em and dump ‘em,” which he planned on doing with Rainbow Dash, but not without consent because horse jail wasn’t fun. He had heard the horror stories from his human friends, Kurns and Bryce.

“Rainbow Dash,” he neighed.

“Spirit…” She neighed back in response, she knew all about his...extracurricular activities. He was the biggest fuck horse out of the herd. Ever since Rain had died from drowning, god bless, he hadn’t been the same. It was also why he paid more attention to Rainbow Dash because she had Rain in the first part of her name.

“Let’s do this,” he smirked with his horse mouth.

“Fine…” She turned her back to him as he reared on his hind legs and mounted her, letting out a series of neighs.

She laughed silently to herself before moving on her Owen Hunt fic and she knew how much she was going to enjoy this one especially.

Owen was walking through the halls when he saw five women stalking towards him like cats, one even had whiskers drawn on her face. “Anitah with the h, get him!” He heard one of them command and watched as she came up to him, kicking him in no man's land. He felt them drag him into an empty exam room.

“MAROE! You got the chainsaw?”

“Nah bruh, Bears and Rams were in charge of that,” she explained.

Anything but Krista, cocked her half shaved eyebrow at Burns and Ella. “Y’all got the chainsaw?”

“No, but I have the cream for the burn I’m about to inflict,” Burns snickered to herself at her own joke, the others joining in before getting back to business.

“Burns, Ella, go scope out the cafeteria for some good food because I can’t kill in good faith on an empty stomach and as me and Ella say, we always get food first,” Anything but Krista said, turning her attention to the two people left, throwing them both a knife. Then proceeded to stab Owen numerous times, but making sure not to hit any major organs yet.

“We need a blender,” Anitah with the h announced.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Anything but Krista and MAROE said at the same time, looking at each other and bursting into laughter at the jinx.

“If that was making a human smoothie, then yes. We’ll show him that no one messes with Derek Christopher Shepherd,” Anitah with the h said smugly, pulling a blender out from behind her back and plugging it into the wall.

“You...you pulled that out of your jacket?” MAROE asked in a surprising tone.

“Y’all don’t keep blenders in yours?” Anitah with the h asked as if that wasn’t common, but it was good to know that she was always prepared.

Suddenly, the walkie talkie came to life, “Team Bears/Rams to Team CA, what y’all want from here? Over and out.”

“Team CA to Team Bears/Rams, we want CookOut. Over and out.” Anything but Krista responded. “It’s about time y’all tried a little piece of heaven,” she looked at Anitah with the h and MAROE.

“That’s a negative ghost rider, the closest CookOut is on the other side of the country. Over and out.”

“Well you better get on your way because you two also need to try a little piece of heaven, we’ll save the good stuff for when you get back. Over and out.” The trio resumed their slice and dice game, taking a short break to play Choices because the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair had just been released and even Owen wasn’t going to keep them away from Sam Dalton.

A couple hours later, Burns and Ella arrived with the food, handing out their respective trays to their respective orderers, they were able to keep the milkshakes from melting by their cold hearts.

“Ahhh gimme my milkshake,” Anything but Krista snatched it from Burns’ hand, earning a slap on her hand from her adoptive mother and a threat of taking away her pony...again.

“Yooo this shake hits different,” Ella exclaimed.

“You could even say that it slaps,” MAROE added making her squeak.

“It’s the one good thing North Carolina has to offer for me,” Anything but Krista chimed in, fist bumping Anitah with the h because the struggle was real. The cows really did outnumber the people, they just hoped that there wouldn’t be a cow revolution because that would be awful except the yeehaw folk would probably survive since they did have a song called “A Country Boy Can Survive.” 

“Burns, we left you the honor of picking the perfect weather for us to dispose of the body which is more like liquid at this point. We need rain, thunder, and lightning to erase all of the evidence. Watching “Forensic Files” has finally come in handy. And Ella, we need you to pretend to be a nurse or something to help us get out of here. I’ll be honest, I haven’t thought that far ahead…” Anything but Krista admitted, but they expected that from her so they already had a plan in place.

“If anyone happens to see Derek Shepherd, I ask that you tell me,” MAROE added.

“Not if I find him first,” Anything but Krista said.

“He’s like fifty four years old…” Burns said being ever the good adoptive mother.

“Then I call Spencer Reid!” Anything but Krista exclaimed.

“I have Lucifer then,” MAROE challenged knowing that would get under her skin. 

“Children, calm yourselves.” Burns shook her head.

“Hey, I’ll be eighteen in like a number amount of months,” Anything but Krista said.

“I’ll be eighteen before you,” MAROE said, sticking out her tongue.

“I’Ll Be EiGhTeEn BeFoRe YoU,” she repeated, placing her hands on her hips and doing that Spongebob meme. After thinking of a better comeback, she grabbed her knife she used on Owen earlier and plunged it into MAROE’s back.

“Et tu, Brute?” MAROE said with shock in her voice before her body crumpled on the ground.

“Yes, bye bitch.”

The other three just stared as the blood drained from her body before turning their attention to Anything but Krista. They were the epitome of 👁👄👁.

“What? She wanted to “due” anyway. And at her funeral we can play “To Be So Lonely” because well she will be lol.”

“Anywaysss, we gonna get food or what?” Ella asked as she covered Owen’s body with a sheet.

“Wings?” Burns suggested and they all agreed. After arriving at the restaurant, they were very shocked to see MAROE sitting at a table waiting for them.

“It’s the trying to kill me for me,” she said upon taking their seats, glaring at Anything But Krista specifically.

“It’s the stealing my fictional husbands for me,” she retaliated.

“It’s the acting like children for me,” Burns' authoritative voice came.

“Sorry,” they both murmured as they looked over the menus to order their food. The rest of their lunch going smoothly, their victims already forgotten about. Don’t mess with hangry chicks who hate Owent Cunt.

“So who’s next?” Anitah with the h asked.

“Ahh you’ve gotten the first taste of blood and now you’re addicted,” Burns observed. She would make for a good profiler for the FBI at Quantico. She would have a cool nickname; Cunt Punter.

“Why not just kill everyone we hate?” Ella questioned.

“That’s a great idea! I say we kill Guy and Vanessa,” Anything but Krista suggested.

“And Landrat!” MAROE added, the whole group agreeing, finishing their lunch before getting to their killing spree.

Gertrude-Sue was laughing at her made up characters and story when she received an email from Ethonk Remy to send him a folder that she had. Goggle Drive was acting stupid so she didn’t realize that she had shared her fanfiction folder with her boss before it was too late. She saw a little giraffe pop up in the right hand corner telling her that he was already viewing what was inside the folder.

“Holy donkey claws,” she cried out loud, smacking her hands against her face.

Meanwhile, Ethonk was going through her folder when he came across a document and his eyes went wide. “What are they doing with the dog?” He said to himself.

Wonder pets, wonder pets

We're on our way

To help a friend and save the day

We're not too big

And we're not too tough

But when we work together, we've got the right stuff

Gooo wonder pets yaaaaay!

The phone

The phone is ringing

The phone

We'll be right there

The phone

The phone is ringing

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble somewhere

“What the hell are Wonder Pets?” He continued inspecting the different documents ranging from murder of one Owen Cunt, horses having sexual intercourse, Wonder Pets stuff, four kids and a dog where they did questionable things with each other, a sponge and a starfish were high on marijuana, a game where Gertrude-Sue had made him and her a family that looked way too realistic for his liking, two bunnies who kept hopping around with one of their little brothers, and multiple documents about Matthew Gray Gubler, Tom Holland, Tom Ellis, Patrick Dempsey, and Harry Styles which were all quite disturbing.

He took out his phone to call her. “Hey uh, Gert, what is this?”

“Oh well you see, the funny thing is that I accidentally sent you the wrong folder so if you could just pretend like this never happened, that would be fantastic. Okay thanks bye. I’m sending you the right one this time.” And she hung up, ready to throw herself off a cliff at her stupidity.

One thing was for sure, she would never make this mistake again.

#CA chronicles

[knightofthecourt]

Love Bites - Chapter 2

Belatrice Gray was a TA at Belgrave University, working hard to stay on top of her marking and trying not to flunk her own studies, when a night out with her bff Randall and his roommates, changed everything.  

Hamish Duke x OC fiction with fluff, romance and angst. OC description has been left out to allow for reader personalisation!

“Haim?” Lillth reached out, placing a hand on Hamish’s shoulder. He was crouched next to Bela’s phone, in the same position he’d been in when he called Lillith to ask her to meet him outside.

He looked up at his friends. They were gathered around him, concern etched across their faces. 

“You heard it, didn’t you?” Hamish’s voice was quiet as he looked back down at the phone in front of him. 

Randall nodded. “The ringing, when we were in the club?”

“I should have known - should have come to check on her. She was out here, alone. I didn’t...”

Lilith shot Randall an uneasy look. Hamish was the Knight’s fearless leader, he was always decisive and assertive, the first to lead them into battle or come up with a game plan. She’d never seen him like this before. He looked so lost. 

“Hamish, buddy?” Jack said slowly, “You blaming yourself isn’t going to help anyone.” 

Hamish stared at the phone a moment longer and then moved his gaze to the object sitting a few inches away from it. As much as it pained him to admit it, Jack was right. 

He picked up the small shiny item and then pocketed Bela’s phone and straightened up. 

“Can you track this?” He held the grey plastic button out to Alyssa. 

She took it from him. “Yes - I just need a few things for the spell.” 

“Ok,” Hamish nodded. “Jack, get Alyssa to the Den, we’ve got supplies there. Lilith, Randall, we’re splitting up. We can cover more ground as wolves. The first one to find anything calls the others.”

They all nodded, falling back into the familiar routine of search and rescue. 

As Jack and Alyssa took off in the direction of the Den, Randall placed his hand on Hamish’s arm. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, past the lump in his throat. “We’ll find her.”  

Hamish squeezed Randall’s hand and offered him a weak smile. “Of course we will,” he said, ignoring the gnawing pit in his stomach. 

- - - - -

“You’re sure this is the place?” 

After 40 minutes of attempting to track Bela’s scent and coming up empty, Jack had called Hamish with a location. Now the two of them were standing under a shroud of trees with Alyssa, watching the entrance to a derelict building on the edge of Belgrave’s campus. 

Alyssa showed him the bowl in her hand. A small stick balanced in water with the button tied to it was pressed against the edge, as if pulled by an invisible hand in the direction of the front door. 

Jack sighed. “Why does this campus have so many creepy buildings? It’s like they’re asking for students to get kidnapped by evil magic practitioners from secret cults.” 

“We don’t know that this person is part of The Order.” Alyssa said, her voice low. “Maybe it’s a magic tourist.” 

Hamish ignored their comments as he scanned the area around them. 

“Right,” he said, focusing his gaze on the entrance. “You guys go round the back, I'll take the front. When we find Bela I'll create a distraction while you get her out.” 

“We don’t know how many are in there,” Jack shook his head “Shouldn’t we hold on until the others get here?”

“Randall and Lillith are on their way but we can’t wait, we don’t know what they’re doing to Bela.” 

Jack opened his mouth as if to disagree and then thought better of it when Hamish glared at him. He took Alyssa’s hand and they headed towards the side of the building, leaving Hamish alone. 

Hamish took a deep breath and walked straight through the front door. 

- - - - -

His footsteps were silent as he moved slowly down the hallway, muffled by the thick layer of dust covering the floor. In the weak light filtering in through the grime-smeared windows from streetlights outside, Hamish could make out further passageways and doors branching off into the darkness. 

Before it had been abandoned, the location must have been used as a storage facility for the University at some point. Mouldy cardboard boxes and forgotten paper files lined the rooms Hamish passed, but he didn’t stop to explore them as he pushed deeper into the heart of the building, drawn towards a faint orange glow.

As he crept closer to the end of the hallway a cavernous room emerged up ahead. The space had been cleared, office desks and chairs pushed against one wall. In the center of the room, starkly lit by the uncovered bulb hanging above, was a metal operating table.

Hamish felt his pulse stutter as he saw Bela’s form strapped to the table. She wasn’t moving. 

Terror flooded his mind. He took a deep breath, struggling for control as Tundra’s growls filled his head. Suddenly, a door on the far side of the room opened and someone walked in. 

Hamish recognised him immediately. 

Tanner leaned over the table, examining Bela, and then gave the restraints a sharp tug. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” He said, without turning. “Don’t worry, I took care of your friends. They won’t be bothering us.” 

Hamish stepped out of the shadows and into the room, keeping his eyes on Bela. 

“What did you do to them?” He asked. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained.  

“They’re ok, for now.” Tanner walked around the table to face Hamish, placing Bela between the two of them. He lifted his right hand and steel glinted in the light. “Just in case you get any ideas.” 

Hamish hesitated when he saw the knife hovering above Bela. “So, The Order is sending Acolytes to murder students now?” 

Tanner’s smile set his teeth on edge. “Oh,” he said, “is this the part where I tell you my motivation?” 

When Hamish didn’t answer he clicked his tongue impatiently. “Fine. This one is just bait. I admit it’s a bit of a waste to kill her, but worth it to get the real prize.” 

Hamish watched as Tanner lowered his arm slightly, the knife hovering just inches away from Bela’s abdomen. 

“The Knights?” 

“Yes. The Knights.” Tanner’s face twisted with disgust. “The great champions. Monsters hiding in our ranks, poisoning The Order from the inside.” 

“We’re part of The Order.” Hamish growled. 

“A mistake,” Tanner’s eyes darkened. “One I’m going to fix. I’ll be a hero.”  

Hamish’s heart stopped as Tanner plunged the knife downwards. He barely had time to inhale the scent of blood before the change ripped through him, his panicked thoughts giving way to Tundra as the wolf took control. 

Tanner watched the man before him transforming. He ran the blade across his palm a second time, sending another rush of blood spattering across the metal table below.

“Mutatis,” he bellowed. In an instant his body stiffened. He doubled over, his spine snapping forward at an unnatural angle as it lengthened and warped. His skin split, thick, dark hair erupting all over and his hands spasmed as his fingernails lengthened into claws.

Tundra turned to face Tanner and found himself staring into the jaws of a hulking black wolf. 

- - - - - 

Bela was snapped back to consciousness by a sickening pain in her legs. She blinked, groggily, as a large dark shape was yanked off her and sent hurtling into a nearby wall. The deafening crunch of plaster and glass sent bells pealing through her temple - she felt like her skull was about to split open. 

As her vision cleared and the room swung into focus she realised with a start that she didn’t recognise the bare, water-stained ceiling above her. What the hell was going on?

The last thing she remembered was being at the club with her friends, she was supposed to meet Hamish outside but that guy… Tanner, was it? He asked her to help with his car. 

Maybe there had been some sort of accident. Was she in hospital? She tried to sit up and groaned as her movement was met with another sharp ripple of pain through her thighs. She went to run her hands over them and realised that she couldn’t move her arms. She was stuck.  

Before she could gather the energy to yell out her vision was taken up by Hamish’s concerned face. 

“Bela? Thank God.” He looked on the verge of tears. 

“Urgh,” Bela croaked, finally finding her voice. “Am I dead?” 

“No, you’re very much alive.” The corner of his lips quirked up.  

“Haim, I can’t move. My legs-” 

“Oh. Wait a second.” He disappeared from view. 

Bela heard ripping sounds, like fabric tearing, and the pressure around her forearms and legs released. She sighed in relief and lifted her hands to feel for damage. As far as she could tell, she was still in one piece, which was a small mercy. 

“Careful,” Hamish reappeared at her side as she sat up and gingerly pulled her legs over the edge of the table.

“What the..?”  Bela’s eyes widened as she took in her surroundings.

“Hamish, where are we? What was that big black thing?” As she turned towards him her voice rose a few octaves. “Where are your clothes? Is that… is that blood? Are you ok?”

Hamish looked down at his blood spattered chest and then back up at Bela, a frown wrinkling his brow. 

“I’m not hurt. I can explain everything, I promise.” 

“Start talking.” Bela pushed herself up onto her feet and then fell backwards against the table. She gasped as white hot agony shot through her legs, turning them to jelly.

Hamish grabbed her waist and lifted her gently onto the table again. As Bela squirmed out of his grasp she caught the look of hurt that crossed his face. He stepped back and raised his arms, palms outstretched towards her. 

“You’re safe.” Hamish bowed his head. “I’m going to explain, we just need to get out of here first, please-”

He broke off as a loud bang echoed off the walls, spinning towards the door on the far side of the room as Jack and Alyssa strode through it.

Bela saw his shoulders relax as he recognised his friends. 

He met them half way, gratefully accepting the jacket Jack handed to him. “Are you guys ok?” 

Alyssa nodded, “Yeah, it was just a holding spell.”

Bela frowned. Spell? 

“Hey, are you ok Bela?” Alyssa started towards her but stopped when Hamish blocked her path. She gave him a funny look.

“Jesus Haim, chill.” Jack pulled Alyssa back towards him. “Where’s Tanner?”

Hamish pointed to a large opening by the door behind them. “I put him through that wall.” 

Jack disappeared into the hallways and then emerged a moment later, shaking his head. “He’s gone.” 

Hamish growled under his breath. “I should have ripped his fucking head off.” 

“Get in line.” Jack huffed. “I can’t believe that idiot was behind this. He barely even made it in to The Order in the first place.”

Alyssa glanced between the two of them. “You put him through a wall Hamish, how did he walk away from that?” 

“He used a transformation incantation.” Hamish’s voice was low but anger punctuated every syllable. 

“What?” Alyssa’s head snapped up. “That’s way above his skill level. What did he turn into?” 

“A wolf.” 

“A werewolf?” Jack’s brow furrowed. “I thought that was impossible?” 

“Not quite a werewolf -” Hamish ran his fingers through his hair, shaking out some of the dried blood,“- but big enough to give Tundra a run for his money.” 

“Do I have a concussion, or did you just say werewolf?” The three of them turned towards Bela and stared, as if they had just remembered she was in the room. 

“Both, probably.” Jack shrugged. “I mean, I’m not a Doctor.” 

Hamish glared at him. 

Bela pushed herself up from the table. “Don’t.” She said, holding up a hand when Hamish made a disapproving noise and moved towards her. She bit down on her lip as her legs throbbed in protest. 

She was exhausted, and furious. She’d woken up scared and in pain, strapped to a table in a creepy room with a very naked, blood-covered Hamish. Now they were talking about spells and incantations and werewolves. Enough was enough. 

“Explain. Now.” 

The three of them looked at her, mouths open. 

“Ok.” She rounded on Hamish. “Start talking, Haim. What the hell happened to me? Was that thing Tanner? What did he do to me? What did you do to him? Why are you talking about spells? Where are-”

Hamish caught her as a cloud of white powder enveloped her head. 

“Was that really necessary.” He hissed at Alyssa as he scooped Bela’s unconscious form up into his arms. 

“You can’t have a secret society if it’s not a secret, Hamish” 

“Fine,” He nodded. “Whatever. Let’s get her back to the Den.” 

“What about Tanner?” Jack frowned. 

“I’ll take care of him later.” Hamish said, his words more of a threat than a promise.

#the order #love bites #hamish duke #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke x oc #randall carpio #lillith bathory #the knights of saint christopher #the knights of st christopher #werewolves

[msbluebell]

Happy Birthday Dimitri

Dimitri is an important character to me.

I didn’t expect him to be. Not to me, personally. When I went into the game, I expected that he wouldn’t be my favorite. I figured he’d be the tragic fallen hero, but I didn’t think he’d hit so many buttons for me.

People like fallen heroes, and I do too, but they’re not usually my favorite characters. When I picked up this game on my way home from a trip, I looked at the cover and thought, “Claude is going to be my favorite.”

But somehow, someway, this boy hit home for me.

Maybe it’s because we get to see him before he fell apart.

Well, alright, this isn’t accurate. He was never all that put together when we meet him in game. He already had a darkness in him, and he already experienced tragedy that would lead to his downfall later. We met this boy, and I didn’t think too much of him. He was the most polite, and sweet, and those were my thoughts. My first playthrough was of Black Eagles house. Now, you all know I nearly didn’t pick the game up again I disliked Black Eagles so much. But Dimitri wasn’t why. When I killed Dimitri in the game all I thought was, “What a shame. I’m sorry guy. You seemed nice enough. I’d spare you if I could.” I’m not going to lie, I felt like his anger in CF was justified even before I cared about him. But I didn’t expect the sheer depts I would come to care for him when I was playing that first route. I obviously played church route next, since for the most part I had half got through the playthrough. And in that one I wanted to help him, but couldn’t and I thought again, “Ah, what a shame. Can’t save you here either.” Except this time we got a little more. The ghost scene got to me. It showed me his guilt, and that’s when I started paying more attention to Dimitri. I had intended to save Golden Deer route for last, but after CF and SS, I thought I deserved self care, and went with Claude. Though this time I was a little regretful I’d leave Dimitri behind. Because I understood what tragedy befalls him when you don’t choose him. Because I know that this sweet boy becomes so angry, and so regretful, and I wished there was a way to save him. Claude was a great character, and I adored him, and I adored Golden Deer. It was the break I needed after CF and SS. I loved them, and I loved their themes, and I loved their energy. I was convinced that they would be my forever favorites. My only real regret was that Dimitri died again. By this time it seemed almost horrific what was going on with Dimitri, and he somehow seemed worse off in this route than the other two. He was crazy, downright insane, and somehow lost an eye. And it was a shame. Something had obviously happened to him to drive him even further over the wall, but I didn’t feel too bad, because while it was tragic what happened to him, there wasn’t anything I could do. So I decide to finish up the game, and I’m not over invested. I like it, but I don’t think it’s going to be my fandom. It’s fun, I enjoyed it. That’s it. I’ll just finish it off and move on. Then I played Blue Lions. Dimitri had no right to do this to me. He had no right to come in and hit all my personal buttons, and make me care so much. I went into Blue Lions already caring a bit about Dimitri, but I didn’t expect him to claw at my heart the way he did. There’s a tragedy to Dimitri that spoke to me more than Claude, or Edelgard, or Rhea. It was more personal, it was more rough, it attacked a raw nerve in me I thought was healed but I suppose never did quite go away. Some people have asked me why I don’t like Edelgard, considering she’s an abuse survivor and I, also, am an abuse survivor. I think, with people who ask me this, they’re looking more at what caused the need to cope rather than the coping itself. Edelgard and I have suffered more similar abuses than Dimitri and myself, though I wouldn’t say my abuse and hers are the same at all. Still, for me, I think it’s the way we deal with the aftermath of our trauma that speaks to me more than the trauma itself. I didn’t like Edelgard, because even before the twist that she was the invading force in the game, I found her abrasive, dismissive, and unintentionally cruel where she was trying to be empathetic.  I just don’t like people who are sharp, I suppose. I never have.  I think that’s ultimately why I warmed up to Dimitri so quickly. He was kind. He is kind. He is so kind, and empathetic, that I adored him right away. I warmed up to him even more quickly than Claude, who I went in wanting and expecting to  be my favorite. He’s kind, and trying to be kind. But it doesn’t always work. I’ve got something called Hyper Empathy Syndrome. It’s a think, and it’s not really federally recognized, but my therapist says it’s a good way to describe what my issues are. I empathize too much. And you wouldn’t think that was a bad thing, but it is. It causes me untold anxiety, and I hyper empathize with people to the point where it’s almost hard to get mad at them, and I keep not wanting to let them down, and I feel guilty if I say no to them and it upsets them even a little. And, overall, it’s a huge hindrance on my life. I think Dimitri may be the same. Or maybe I’m projecting on him because I see so much of myself in him. Looking at Dimitri, and the way he developed. It was like looking to a mirror at some points and getting a glimpse into the shitty person I used to be.  Now, I’m not going to pretend I went through even half the bad shit Dimitri did. His sufferings just kept piling on and on and on over the course of the game, to the point I wondered how this boy was even alive. I wasn’t at all surprised at how bad off he was in Azure Moon, but sad. Oh, he was shitty. He was terribly shitty. But I got it. Because I’ve been there. I was younger than Dimitri was when I was shitty, so I’ve got that “middle school preteen hormone changes” excuse, but I was shittty. I wasn’t as bad as he was; I’ve never murdered someone, or nearly tortured a man, or obsessed  over a death, but I was just as unpleasant to be around. I was shit, because I wasn’t dealing with myself well. I had bad coping, and I felt alone, and used, and I couldn’t stop being angry no matter how hard I tried. My head kept telling me it was my fault, and everyone around me didn’t know how to deal with me, and they kept trying to drag me out of my comfort zone. And I lashed out against everyone around me, even though I knew it wasn’t their fault, and that only made me feel more guilty and alone and like I needed to be alone. And it was all only made worse by the Hyper Empathy.  It was a cycle of self hate and misery that I put myself through, and I saw that in Dimitri. And it hit home a little harder than I could have ever predicted.  I was rooting for Dimitri because I already loved him. I love him. He means a lot to me, and as I would come to find out her personifies everything that I believe about humanity; that no matter how bad we get we can still come back. Dimitri is someone that suffered, fell from grace, brainwashed himself into suffering more, all while suffering from a mental illness, and was still able to come back with some help and a whole lot of work and self reflection.  Dimitri is someone that was surrounded by loved ones who wanted to help him but mostly didn’t know how to, people who supported him, but it wasn’t enough. He had to pull himself out, with support. and it wasn’t easy. Hell, it wasn’t easy to support him either. There was a point where he got so low I legitimately thought there would be no going back for him. I almost gave up. But I didn’t want to, and I didn’t, and it’s because despite it all I still loved who he was and wanted him to get better. And he did. And I guess that gave me hope. I guess it made me hopeful that if he could get better from all that, then maybe it wasn’t impossible for other bad people to get better. It made me happy. It made me appreciate him. It made me thankful. Dimitri gave me hope that people could be better than they were, and I’ll forever be thankful for that. It’s actually not all that often a character affects me this much. And maybe it seems dumb to others that a fictional character could affect my life so much, but then again, no one has a right to judge me for where I find hope. Dimitri isn’t just a character I liked, he’s a character that gave me hope. He’s a character that came back from that bad place. He’s a character that basically looked at me and said, “You can come back from this.” And I’m trying so hard to be better.  Dimitri and I have a lot of the same issue. The guilt, the self hate, the blame, other things. And he still has people that love him, people that don’t give up on him. And, yeah, them being there isn’t always helpful, heck, in some case it makes his issues worse. But they’re there for when he comes back, and they help him, and that gives me more hope too. But nothing gives me more hope than the fact that he came back. And when he came back, he worked to be better. And he forgave. And I feel like that makes him so much stronger than me. Because I don’t think I could have forgave to the same level that he had. I couldn’t look the woman I thought ruined my life in the eye and forgive her. I don’t think I could face a man who did ruin my life in the eye after he told me he’d do it again in the name of justice. I couldn’t forgive to Dimitri’s level. He’s come a long way, Dimitri, and I am so proud of him. Happy Birthday Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, thank you for showing me I can be better.

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #happy birthday #character study #analysis #self relection #favorite character #meta #getting better #Blue Lions #Blue Lion's route

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Title: Another Life

Gif credit @mansons-horror-queen

Song Imagine: Another Life by Motionless in white.

Warning: Abusive relationship, murder, mention of blood.

A big thank you to @chriscrosscerulli. Love ya, baby doll. ❤❤

Taglist: @chriscrosscerulli. @ilovetaquitosmmmm. @jesseswartzwelder. @alilpunkrock. @musicsexandpizza69. @myanaconda-will-consider1t. @nocturnalherb16. @thisplace-ishaunted. @ryansitkowskiswifey. @baylishh

If I can't let you go will darkness divide?

For the fiction of love is the truth of our lies

We were playing for keeps, but we both knew the cost

Now the only way out's in your heart-shaped box

"We can still be friends, right"? Ryan asked leaning against his car hood. You stood a few inches away from him chewing on your nails.

"Yeah, of course. I don't see why not". You didn't sound so sure to Ryan. He was beginning to think breaking up was a bad idea. He loved you and you loved him but him touring and your demanding job it was hard to see each other and have a relationship. So the best thing to do was break up and remain friends cause it seemed when you were friends you had time for each other.

"Okay, if you're sure about this"?

"Ryan, we can't keep leading us on. It's hard to break up with your best friend but we have to do it or we'll ruin our friendship and I can't have you not in my life some how".

"Alright we'll keep our friendship intacked and maybe one day we can try again". Ryan reached out his hand for you to take and he pulled you close to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, engulfing you in a hug.

In the back of your mind you knew you wanted to be with him but his life is a constant go and he didn't want to stop like you do with your life so you both moved on, more you than he did.

But I hate that it seemed you were never enough

We were broken and bleeding but never gave up

And I hate that I made you the enemy

And I hate that your heart was the casualty

Now I hate that I need you

Four months after ending it with Ryan, your friendship was stronger than ever. You had gotten a new boyfriend that you introduced to Ryan and the guys when they were in town. Of course they hated him.

"What do you see in him, anyways"? Ryan asked as he took a sip of his drink in his hand.

"He's funny and he's really great". That's all you could really come up with at the moment. You really didn't know him like you knew Ryan. When every Ryan called you knew what was up by the sound if his voice, what mood he was in and it felt normal.

"I don't like him or trust him. He looks like he should belong in prison". Ryan shocked you right there, judging someone. But you didn't say anything.

"Has he been in prison"? Still didn't say anything. You didn't want Ryan to have something to hold against him before even getting to know your boyfriend.

"Y/N"? Ryan wouldn't let up and kept going on with questions until you were fed up with them.

"We're going to go and you just chill the fuck out and stay out of my love life". You hissed at Ryan who was worried and concerned.

Later that night Ryan did some detective work, he found out things that he thought you should know about. Truth be told you already knew.

"Y/N, he's dangerous. He's been in prison two time for assault on women". Ryan yelled through the other end of the phone.

"It was all a mistake".

"Are you really taking up for a wife beater? What has happened to you? The Y/N I know would kick the guy in the dick before dating them".

"Things change and so has he. Now I have to go, he's home". You said quietly, making Ryan nervous as hell.

"What, you can't talk to me while he's there? Y/N"? The line went silent and the call ended. Ryan couldn't understand why you were putting yourself in this position. Being with a convicted felon. Maybe things have changed but he hasn't. He was going to make sure you're okay and that you're safe.

As we rest here alone like notes on a page

The finest to compose could not play our pain

With a candle through time I can still see your ghost

But I can't close my eyes, for it

For it is there where you haunt me most

Where you haunt me most

The next day Ryan called you at work and asked if you wanted to go out for lunch. You were hesitant but agreed to go. Not wanting to deal with his judgmental self.

"So we're here to eat not pick on my boyfriend right"? You asked before sitting down.

"Yes".

"Okay".

"So how's life"? Ryan asked sitting up and looking you over. He never thought he would see you in a long baggy sleeve sweat shirt with pants when it was summer. You always liked to wear clothes that showed your curvy figure off. So something was up.

"It's good".

"If it is then show me your arms".

"What are you taking about Ryan"? You huffed rolling your eyes.

"Show me your arms". Ryan was demanding.

"No, I will not show you my arms". You crossed your arms over your chest. Ryan was getting very worried and a little mad. He knew you were hiding something.

Ryan practically jumped over the table to raise you sleeves. He caught a glimpse of purple and blue, most likely finger prints around your wrist.

"He's abusing you, isn't he"?

"Go to hell, Ryan".

"Not until you show me the rest".

You shook your head, trying to hide the tears coming down your face. You were embarrassed not by Ryan but the fact Ryan was right and you let it happened.

"Show me please". He pleaded again, this time you showed him. Your arms were covered in bruises where your boyfriend grabbed you.

"God, I'll kill him". Ryan ran his finger gently over the bruises. He knew he shouldn't have agreed to the break up. He blamed himself for you getting in a relationship with a psycho.

"I'm okay". You whispered quietly.

"You're leaving and coming home with me. I'm not letting you live with that. Im not letting you near that again".

"I'm sorry". You spoke with a sob. Ryan gulped down his tears shaking his head.

"You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I'm going to make this better. I promise. I love you so much". Ryan stood up and kissed your head. "Everything's going to be okay". He mumbled into your hair. You knew he was right, everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be at ease.

I hate that it seemed you were never enough

We were broken and bleeding but never gave up

And I hope that I sing through your memory

As we echo through time in the melody

Now I hate that I need you

After getting off work early you headed home, Ryan told you to pack what you needed and he'll be there to help after he got the police to pick up your now ex. But instead of coming home to a empty house you were met by a slap to your face.

"I got to work and I get a call saying my girlfriend is being a fucking whore". Your ex growled as you were thrown against the wall.

"I wasn't. I swear". You begged him. He shrugged his shoulder and slapped your face again.

"Ryan, isn't just a friend is he"?

"Yes, that's all he is. I promise". You lied, hoping he would take it and leave you alone but it seemed to make him anger.

"You're a liar". He said angrily, as he grabbed you by the throat, forcing the life out of you.

"Please stop". You struggled to get words out. He squeezed tight like a anaconda squeezing the life out of its dinner before devouring it.

Clawing at his hands he finally released you, you fell to the floor gasping for air. At first you thought you were going to pass out, maybe that would have been a good thing. You wouldn't have to feel what was about to come next.

And I hear you now when you said "it hurt

But it had to fall, fall apart to work"

As I see you now in what's left of me

Is it too late to plead insanity?

Ryan arrived twenty minutes later, he was relieved to not see your ex's car. He causally walked into the house with boxes in hand a smile on his face. But in a matter of seconds that smile turned into horror. He saw your body covered in blood on the floor gasping for air. He dropped the boxes and ran to you. Dropping to his knees, craddling your head in his hands.

"What happened"? He cried as he fumbled with his phone.

"I'm okay". You say as a single tear rolled down your cheek.

"Y/N, please no. I can't lose you again". He sobbed out. Ryan tried looking where the blood was coming from, but there were to many stab wounds to know which one was making you bleed out.

"I'll always be in here". You got enough strength to point to his heart.

"I'm so sorry, we pushed each other away. I should have tried to work our relationship out. I love you always have and always will".

"I love you so much. I will see you again, I promise". You brushed his cheek with your bloodied hand and slowly lost life. Ryan squeezed you tightly, until the paramedics forced him off you to see if they could bring you back but it was to late.

'Cause I hate that It seemed you were never enough

You were broken and bleeding in the name of love

And I hope that we meet in another life

I hope that we meet in another life

I don't hate that I need you

I don't hate that I need you

I don't hate that I need you

Ryan and your family wanted a small funeral just with family and friends. The band was supportive and helping to Ryan. You were cremated and Ryan got some of your ashes that he wears close to his heart with a ring that you wore all the time that he gave to you.

Your ex was caught and his third strike was up. He got sentenced to death. Ryan was front and center at the hearing. Ryan wanted to make sure he would suffer like you did. He watched as he took his last breath as a free man.

When Ryan came home that night, he could feel someone was there but the house was empty except for your cat in the window that he had adopted.

He could smell your perfume that he loved so much as the wind blew through out the house. If someone were to ask him if he thought you were still around. He would say, you're watching over him until he's ready to join you. True love is something that can't be forgotten even through death. You were just waiting and he was enjoying you being there even if you really weren't. He needed you there to keep him sane. It brought comfort knowing the thought of you being there.

#ryan sitkowski x reader #ryan sitkowski fanfiction #ryan sitkowski imagines #ryan sitkowski #ryan sitkowski motionless in white #motionless in white fanfiction #motionless in white #motionless in white imagine #happys crazy queen22

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 1x14

I just got done watching Nancy Drew episode 14, the sign of the uninvited guest and before I get into spoiler details let me sum up my thoughts on the episode.

Holy fuck

Okay so we’re just gonna dive right in and to start off it turns out Tiffany Hudson was never the murder target? Instead, it was RYAN Hudson. Lucy’s brother Joshua was taking his mother to look at a new mental asylum but when they stopped for gas she stole the car and hightailed it over to the Claw, where she used to work. The spare key spot has apparently not been changed since the 90s and so she just let herself in, creeping everyone out. My biggest issue was her red eyes she looked like she hadn’t slept since she was a waitress.

Lara Tandy has awoken from her coma and is feeling totally zen after her near death experience and wants Ace to come to Paris with her. The entire time I was torn between “that would be so sweet” and “Ace don’t you fucking dare”. Nick picks up a stranded Joshua and brings him over as Nancy charts out everything they know about the Lucy/Tiffany murders. Patrice sees and starts muttering the Lucy Sable Murder Song (seriously who even started that) and then Dead Lucy (my creepy precious daughter) trashes the entire board except for one (1) image. A screenshot from Nancy’s video of Tiffany where Lucy first shows up.

Nancy and Ace and Lara go to the police precinct to get Tiffany’s cell phone data. Turns out Tiffany was going to rich sounding places like the yacht club, leaving her phone there, and walking to her real destination so they go to the library where she spent a few hours before she died. Side note, I would watch an entire episode about just Ace and the library politics. I want to hear more about capture the flag and Denise. Maybe they used to hack together and it went sour, maybe they were rivals from the get-go. I don’t know but I want to Find Out.

Ace manages to find what Tiffany was looking at: emails between Lucy Sable and Ryan Hudson circa 1999-2000. Most of them are lovey dovey including an actual “I think I might love you” until the end where Lucy asks Ryan to forgive her. Ryan says he will never forgive her, calls her a whore and says he hopes she dies. Then they arrange to meet the night of the Sea Queen ceremony. You know, that one little night when Lucy was murdered. Let’s take an environmental minute to talk about what we think happened. Lucy apparently did something unforgivable, and since they were in a relationship and he called her whore, there is one glaring idea: INFIDELITY. But Lucy loved Ryan. Now I’m going to go out on a limb here. What if Celia and Papa Hudson hired some guy (maybe Owen Marvin???) to seduce Lucy or something and then told Ryan. Or maybe Lucy felt awful and told him herself. OR on an even further limb, Lucy and Josh are only half-siblings. Maybe they’re going to go a la Riverdale and make Lucy and Ryan (DISTANTLY) related or something. Either way, Lucy did something she regretted and then Ryan found out.

As far as Lucy’s actual murder, during the seance when asked if the Hudsons killed her she said yes/no. Celia Hudson was in Argentina at the time but could have hired a hitman, Papa Hudson has no known alibi and already murdered a crew full of sailors including his wife’s boyfriend, Ryan Hudson had plans to meet with Lucy the night of her death “at our spot”. I am Strongly Suspicious their spot is the cliffs she died on. I think it’s a safe bet at this point to say Ryan was somehow involved in Lucy’s murder. He is a Hudson, they’d been dating and she betrayed him somehow, and they had plans to meet the night of her death at an undisclosed location. Now whether he is the one who physically murdered her, I don’t know. I suspect we will have more answers after finding out how Lucy died which we need her BODY FOR. Or at least her skeleton. We assume she was stabbed because of the bloody dress and also knife, but what if she wasn’t? What if it was an emergency C-section, what if someone else stabbed her already and Ryan just couldn’t save her, what if it was some kind of accident? And remember there was also that whole Ryan Is Being Haunted thing for the Velvet Masque. Lucy haunted him so she could use his wedding ring to show her death led to Tiffany’s. Maybe she specifically used Ryan because he caused her death, either directly or by accident.

Back to the episode, I liked seeing the entire walkthrough. I didn’t realize how much had happened off-screen that first episode. There is also the question of WHY it all happened off-screen, but considering the leaps and bounds of progress quality the writers have made I will give them a pass. When they first brought up the switched salad I wasn’t sure if they were being genuine, or if it was a part of their plan to trick Ryan, but when he and Nancy were outside and they were still talking about it I realized it was Legit.

Then that scene at the end, how Nancy managed to flip the switch from “oh hey Josh” to “holy fuck you killed Tiffany” so quickly was so in character. My girl is just so suspicious of absolutely everybody and her mind just JUMPS between puzzle pieces as fast as mine does but her brain actually stays on topic. I thought the fight scene was really well done, because Nancy was mostly improvising and trying to get away not fight, and his death was accidental. But I also want to see her take self-defense lessons or something at some point because at the rate she keeps almost dying it feels like the reasonable next step to take. Or at least like buy a switch blade. Have Nick make her a toothbrush shiv. SOMETHING.

MY PRECIOUS DAUGHTER. DEAD LUCY.

Okay guys, the part with the phone. I knew it was coming, and it was creepy, but now rewatching it I have to laugh because the first face she’s making during Nancy’s recording is really just a ghostly 😐. But then when she starts fucking crawling, now THAT was creepy. And then when she kept moving closer to Ryan with each lightning flash. (He CLEARLY had something to do with her death.) Epic. It makes me wonder how long did it take her to learn this ghost stuff, and what was she doing before Nancy found her dress? Just sulking around, maybe pulling the occasional Halloween scare. I would also watch a spin off of the 20 years where Lucy is just hanging around and dead.

Side theory. What if Patrice was somehow there that night? I have no evidence to back this up but she seemed very set on Lucy always being in the water and so maybe she saw her fall or something and that’s why she’s so crazy. Moving on.

To talk about the characters who are of course important. I didn’t entirely catch the whole Bess/Lisbeth/Amaya drama of the episode. I will say I like her with Amaya a lot more than Lisbeth for some reason because I can feel the chemistry a lot better with those two, and she and George had a nice talk at the end. SPEAKING OF GEORGE. I can see multiple ways the George/Nick/Nancy triangle could play out, let’s discuss some. A) George is about to confess her feelings to George right before learning he and Nancy have gotten back together. B) George is about to confess her feelings to Nick right before he tells her about his remaining feelings for Nancy and how much he Wants Her Back. C) George and Nick get together right as Nancy decides to fight for Nick. Let’s talk about this one for a moment. Promo for next week shows Owen Marvin (ugh) is going to be back (Ugh) and he and Nancy will kiss (UGH). Potential scenario, her and Owen are talking and he goes to kiss her and she lets him before pulling away and he says “why won’t you date me” and she says it just doesn’t feel right or her heart still belongs to Nick or something. Owen redeems himself before disappearing forever by telling Nancy to fight for Nick. Problem is Nick has seen the kiss but not Nancy stopping it and leaves, angry, because he was about to ask her to get back together or because he thought they had an Understanding or something. He goes to George who asks him out and he says yes and Nancy finds out and puts on a happy face and then leaves to go cry. God I really want to write fan fiction for this show but I CAN’T until Lucy’s murder is solved. Let me know how you guys think it will play out. Speaking of Nancy x Nick whom I love and adore, that part at the end when the cops and Nick had showed up. He said like less than ten words the entire time but his concern was just SEEPING out of him, and he so clearly like wanted to hold her but held himself back because he feels it is not his place anymore. I also find it telling that just as Bess is telling George to come clean to Nick, he is with Nancy.

In totally expected news, I am still pining for Victoria. Writers, please bring her back. I haven’t seen her since the seance episode and I Miss Her.

I have absolutely no idea what happened to Joshua’s body don’t even ask me. However I AM hopeful he has turned into a ghost and will have to be banished requiring VICTORIA.

I am SO excited for next week’s episode, the terror of horseshoe bay. It looks awesome and spooky and creepy and we will hopefully find Lucy’s body. Owen will be there which is Unfortunate but I am sure I can cope because Lucy will also hopefully be there and Nancy like spits out ghostly teeth at one point which is so metal. Since the season is getting close to wrapping up and Tiffany’s murder is officially closed, Lucy’s murder is the only major plot left, so I am curious what they will do for next season. I am hoping they will start laying the groundwork for it this season, but I also don’t want them to just drag out the Lucy Sable storyline for ages upon ages. (I’m looking at you Pretty Little Liars with your like five fucking As.) I’m interested in if it’s one or two murders again, or if it’s like one main murder but then with a bunch of mini mysteries sprinkled in a la the serial poisoner episode. I am thinking (wishing) as far as college goes, maybe Nancy applies and gets into Columbia but she decides to stay and open up some sort of paranormal/normal investigative service with Dead Lucy as her receptionist and Nick as her literary loving arm candy and the others can help upon request or something and eventually join. Let me know if you think Nancy will manage to clear her dad’s name or if he’ll actually be indicted. CANNOT WAIT.

#Nancy Drew #Nancy Drew cw #George Fan #Bess Marvin #Ned Nick Nickerson #Nancy x Nick #Nick x George #Dead Lucy #Lucy Sable #Ryan Hudson #Tiffany Hudson #the sign of the uninvited guest #the terror of horseshoe bay

[cerberus253]

I just rediscovered this thing I typed for high school some years ago and what? What?? I typed this? Like, yeah it may not be the best and I’m sure it has flaws, but whatever the heck was going on in my head seems pretty interesting to present-day me. I’m reposting this instead of reblogging because this fiction piece is super long and I don’t want to force people to scroll through a crap ton text if they aren’t interested.

Dear Ben

[SHORT STORY FOR SCI-FI AND FANTASY CLASS]

8 October, 2537

Dear Ben,

   Hey, it’s Khristina. I’ve never really talked to you like this, but I’m terrified and I don’t know what else to do. Coming in contact with you at all will only bring bad news, but I will not under any circumstances go with anything you say, I just need someone to talk to because my best friend, Luciel, is being imprisoned in another cell far away from me, as all the other slaves are in this place. I don’t know where we’re at, but it’s cold, dark, damp, and it reeks of petroleum. I’m pretty sure you’ve been paying attention to what happened in the last year or so, the whole Hirouleysi invading when everyone thought it was a joke for 30 years. They swooped down in their giant “kveikurs”, which are 10 feet tall raven black, metal dragons with a wingspan three times their size, spewing poisonous toxins where ever their masters please. We both like dreadful looking things, but both of us were terrified of those beasts. They may be generic looking, but I’ll never forget the moment when we were walking in the woodlands and suddenly a dark shadow casted over head like an eclipse, heading towards Behelzen. I’m ashamed that it didn’t register in my head something bad was going to happen, until I heard the shrilling screams of utter horror from the town. When we arrived I couldn’t believe how everything went to ruin in the matter of minutes, people coughing like their lives depended on it, children crying, and gas everywhere. I even remember seeing some of the Hirouleysi carrying people away, unconscious. This happened since they arrived, these “people” coming once a week to torture, then to take whatever they want away. Luciel and I were terrified, but you weren’t, you just watched in content.

   I can’t believe we were taken also. I’m usually the one being safe and not taking any action, but I guess there is no safe haven with these creatures around. They destroy everything and leave behind the plague. At least it’s satisfying to know that the people down in the city of Sentrare have multiple Sagrabt shops, who only sell the cure at a reasonable price for the awful sickness that the kveikurs spread, I just wish it didn’t take five months to make, all those families that lost their loved ones… Anyways, we both feel suspicious about the short amount of time it took to make it. I know the plague is a new sickness, but the cure should of taken longer to make, not that I wanted it to, it just seems so fast the way they whipped it up, but what do I know about making cures.

   Tomorrow is the first day us newcomers will be shown around the plague hive. Please do not say anything that will separate Luciel and I, let alone get us in trouble.

9 October, 2537

Dear Ben,

   Before I talk about what happened today, because you don’t pay attention much to anything around you, the what seemed to be one of the captains reminded me of my kidnapping, probably because he or she looked a lot like the one that did catch me. I was underground with my family in our “safety home,” (thank you dad for being paranoid and believing the warnings) when suddenly with only a rattle of warning, the entire place was engulfed in poisonous gas. A thing about the gas, it does not affect you at first, but after 10 minutes or so you start to feel light headed and nauseous and you start to cough. After 20 minutes or so of this torture, you immediately fall unconscious, then you wake up like you had a hangover. So, when the gas hit us, my parents handed out masks for my siblings and I. We hid separately around the house with weapons as quietly as we could as the captain loomed about, carefully checking everywhere. Hiding in my room, I could barely see through the gas, but I saw the individual and I shamefully say I admire their apparel. I guess they wanted to blend with their kveikurs because they had the same get up as them: all black metal armor with three sets of horns on their helmets. Their helmets could be lifted from the mandible and at the opening of the helmet’s “mouth” were rows of teeth like a canine. They had small spikes going down their back and clawed metal gloves. Most of the troops carried swords or staffs with sharp ends on them, but some just prefered their fists and claws. This one in particular had more spikes than the average guy and looked more lean than the others. Despite his stature, he looked importantly dressed, so I assume he was higher ranked. I was terrified of this guy, but he seemed to be careful of where he was looking. Usually robbers or crooks would throw stuff around, but he was being careful on what he picked up and placed back. He seemed…lenient, maybe? I don’t know, he stopped at my drawings and took the time to go through them. It felt forever just watching some guy look at my work, not knowing if they would be good or bad in his eyes. Why do I care? I have no clue. A murderer is deliberately looking at my art and I’m sitting here thinking “Oh no, I hope he doesn’t think it’s crap!” knowingly he will kill any civilian that walks through the door. And then he took some of my sketch books. Why he needed them, I don’t know but I was mad that he stole something of mine without my permission. Thank god I was a coward enough to not confront him. In the end, he found me and I tried my best to fight back, aiming for his cervical, orbitals, popliteals, and surals and crurals, over all going berserk like a child. I guess everyone heard me screaming and stuff breaking so they ran up and ganged up on him, but it was too late, more troops came down and slaughtered my parents, but left my siblings and I unconscious, probably because the elder ones were of no use but the younglings can grow to work later. I was the only one in my family taken as far as I know. Luciel told me that she saw the Hirouleysi take me away and she stupidly followed them, having herself become captured in the process.

   Anyways, we were shown around the quarry today, being told where everything was at and what our jobs were. Everyone was silent except for the officers and some rowdy kids, who were punched in the gut gladly by the superiors. There were teenagers and young adults everywhere who looked surprisingly well fed, but had bruises and scars all over them. Some kids were carrying gas canisters, some were following Hirouleysi troopers and being trained by them, some were unconscious on the ground. I cried multiple times on the tour, and practically ever since I remembered what happened to me prior to this, but Luciel seemed to be the only one that noticed and cared. Luciel talks a lot when she’s around me, but it was unnerving not hearing one word from her. Occasionally she would mumble and tear up but she tried her best not to catch any Hirouleysi’s sight.

1 November, 2537

Dear Ben,

Everyone got a job to do, Luciel had the job to make an account of all the kveikurs made and which ones were in progress and how far into the progress. I, however, showed great knowledge on how things could potentially function, so I have the job of not only making and fixing kveikurs, but to design new and better ones. I heard some Hirouleysi whispering about how I wouldn’t be able to fight well, but I could be something of an overseer. To be honest, I’d rather be stuck with the same job as Luciel because I’d be with her.

   You know, despite this being slave labour, they actually treat us okay. Well, actually the ones who follow the rules and don’t act up do. We’re given food, warnings instead of immediate punishment first, and longer breaks. Now only if they would fix the cold cells, but I guess they have to be harsh in some way. It feels like prison here, so I guess I know that if I am ever in actual prison I wouldn’t have any trouble with the officers there. It’s pretty lonely, especially with you always nagging at me, to tell me to fight back. I know I should, but on my end I have nothing to defend myself with. We’ve been told that there has been many escape attempts, gang ups, riots, even sabotages by former slaves. They were exterminated within minutes. As long as we do what we’re told, we’ll be fine, but I’m still thinking of what I could, or maybe should, do to cause some trouble around here, but I have to make sure no one would expect it to be me, being a coward and all.

15 March, 2538

Dear Ben,

   As you can tell, I haven’t talked for a while because I lost the motivation and time to do so, including materials. I was able to write letters before because I found papers and charcoal lying around my cell for some reason, but now I was actually given papers to write on! So here’s what happened, I’ve been so good around Ditinggalkan, the name of the quarry we are enslaved at, that I’ve been given a reward of my, limited, choosing. I would of liked to work with Luciel, but even with my best friend I need breaks and time alone, and I see her enough already with my other specially given break rules (they let me go and talk with her where she works, as long as I’m supervised), so I asked for paper and some art supplies. They agreed, but they said nothing of it leaves Ditinggalkan. I had no intentions of doing that because even if they did let me send it out, they would have to check it. The Hirouleysi are so tight with check ups on everyone to make sure we aren’t hiding anything. Despite all my submission, I think they still suspect me of doing something against them because the one that tells the truth can lie more easily and betrayal does not come from the enemies, but your friends. They must’ve caught onto that because I always get the sense I’m being watched, and later I found that I was. Guess who’s watching me? The same Hirouleysi that kidnapped me and killed my parents. He must have some grudge against me because I irritated him pretty well back on that day. I kept knocking him down because I went for his legs and abdominal region. Then I kept whacking his helmet to make as much noise as possible to annoy him, all the while sitting on him, using my weight to keep him down. Despite his stalking, he never confronted me in any way, probably because he wasn’t aloud to hurt someone without having a reason. I’m starting to think the respect rules are only here to convince us the Hirouleysi are our new friends and family. Strangely I do feel safe around them, but keep reminding me they killed numerous people for no reason and stole teenagers to make mechanical beasts to further kill other people. I do wonder what the Hirouleysi motives are for all this.

1 April, 2538

Dear Ben,

   Every week I see those black monsters rise up from their cages in the morning into the skies like swarms of mosquitoes, then part in multiple groups and go every which way. To about the afternoon to late at night, they come back with items and people, repeating the process the Hirouleysi did with us. It is quite mesmerising to watch as the Hirouleysi saddle up their kveikurs and rise like dragon riders, but it’s so sad they are acting as the villains to everyone outside. I always wanted to be a dragon rider, maybe I would get the chance to ride one some day, I just hope it doesn’t also mean I have to demolish towns as well. To be honest, the Hirouleysi don’t gather many kids, five, six, I think the most I’ve seen was eight. They all look so confused and scared. I really wish people wouldn’t be so hard on frightened teenagers. Make them comfortable first, then give them tough love.

20 May, 2538

Dear Ben,

   A fight broke out a couple weeks ago. I don’t know how it started, but every fight starts off with a disagreement. Luciel was in the middle of it, trying to settle the kids down (I’m referring to most people here as ‘kids’ because they act like children), but it ended up becoming even worse. I suppose you could of called it an uprising by the largest sea of people. I want to say it was between those who wanted to stay and those who wanted to leave. Multiple people were killed from both sides and I’ve heard from a guy that calls himself Herald that Hirouleysi were watching intently, but did not do a thing. I had no idea they were so entertained by that fight because I was too busy trying to protect Luciel. I may not be the strongest female, I may not be the most agile or light, but I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to her. Right now, she’s all I’ve got to a family. I guess it goes to show how much the Hirouleysi actually “care” about us. Their boss must have threatened them to a great extent to convince them not to be too violent with us. Herald proceeded to tell me that he was watching the fight from afar too. He only took pity on them. Quick thing about Herald, he’s an overseer that likes thinking his job is more of a way to blackmail slaves like the weasel he is, but he seems to grow a liking towards me, probably because I’m the only person to willingly talk to him. Anyways, he noticed how no interference from the Hirouleysi happened until six or seven minutes after I came in. Herald said he was able to watch this because he was actually betting that I was going to be killed. What a guy, right? I bet you’d be best friends with him, Ben. He didn’t find any connection between me and the Hirouleysi interference and usually I’d be suspicious about there being a connection, but nowadays I try not to believe anything like that happens, I’m not that special anyways. All the Hirouleysi troops are forced to be nice to the ones who deserve it. Luciel and I left before the riot was over, but we heard that it lasted a good 45 minutes and some Hirouleysi deaths, rumor has it that someone, not sure who, brought out a kveikur and smashed loads of humans. Just about everyone in that battle was punished with whips and starvation. I tried to lie and say I wasn’t in it, but they found out and punished me for it, physically with whips and starvation, but also the loss of trust, which was the worst part. You thought all of that was like watching your favorite T.V. show, you also wanted to join in on the fun and think about consequences later, but as I told you before, I am not letting you.

30 June, 2538

Dear Ben,

   Luciel started dating one of our peers. His name is Daniel and he’s four years older than her. I never really liked it when Luciel dated because she was always hurt in the end. I do love Luciel, but she’s very paranoid about anyone besides her family and me of betraying her, yet she dates. In a place like this, I wouldn’t go out with anyone. It’s full of sociopaths and psychopaths. I would like to have someone that loves me, but really the only one would be you, and I can’t even reach you by any means, at least in the way I would like to. I really worry about Luciel, I’ve told her she shouldn’t date people until she understood herself enough and loved herself first. No one seems to get it though, the whole “love yourself first before others”. Even I barely understand it, but just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’m pretty sure I love myself. I do suffer from depression, but I view that as more of an obstacle or a teaching method for the ones around me. I want to show people I can be stronger than depression, or any other feeling or thought you can make me have. Though there is one thing that still keeps me up at night, and it is that soul crushing loneliness. The kind that you have when people are around you, but because you cannot communicate the things that are important to you, they make you feel even more alone and neglected. I swear I’m going to be a nervous wreck before I escape or die here.

6 July, 2538

Dear Ben,

   I swear to god I have not felt so much hate in my life at this point. I had a surprise check in today while I was working. Unlike what you’d think, the Hirouleysi officers were careful poking around my things, but I absolutely hate it when people touch my things. I don’t care if it was the Devil himself turning off my video game to play Just Dance or something, I do NOT like it when people touch my things. What stunk even more is that one of the officers took my sketches, again! Did they want it for ideas of new poisonous monstrosities or was there just this one guy that likes stealing people’s stuff? BAH! I liked those sketches too.

   The Hirouleysi also skimmed over my letters to you. They asked who you were, so I told them and they just gave me the indication that I was a loon, so that was fun. Then later I was called down to speak with the gas team because they were short on Toxin people. I never thought I was smart, but apparently I was brainy enough to help make chemicals. After all that, I talked with one of the helpers on break of the Toxin department. Robin was his name and he says that I shouldn’t feel too special with all these semi-important jobs I was given. There are numerous people who had the same jobs I had, so I was just another cog in the machine. That definitely brought down my self-esteem.

13 July, 2538

Dear Ben,

   I’ve been thinking about why the Hirouleysi are like how they are. Slave trades I’ve read in stories and heard about in school sound cruel, unjust, and one of the worst places to be, but when you hear me talking about Ditinggalkan being an enslavement camp, but it’s not as bad as it seems, it sounds unreal. I believe these people are psychologically messing with everyone here. Think about it, if you listen and mind your own business and not cause trouble, you can actually have a decent conversation with one of the guards. If you’re loyal enough, they will train you to be one of them. They act like parents and treat us like their children, rewarding the good ones and punishing the bad ones, respecting the smart ones and trying to fit the best job for a mentally challenged kid instead of just assigning whoever to whatever. I said this before I think, but Ditinggalkan rules for the Hirouleysi are for all of us to try to become friends, so we will join them and follow what they do. The Hirouleysi don’t actually care, they are manipulating us through our feelings and thoughts. Yes, physical punishment is the same, but that’s besides the point. This frightens me, whoever their boss is knows how to gain teenager’s trust, but he also knows that not all will submit, so he keeps them in check and makes sure they would be so deep into their work, they won’t know what is going on. I hope all three of us, you, Luciel, and I won’t fall into their trap.

28 July, 2538

Dear Ben,

   I’ve never told you about this, but back in April there is a man that nobody pays attention to. None of the slaves talk to him, none of the Hirouleysi talk to him, nobody. Herald was able to sneak me some candy bars a few days ago in that month, and for some reason the thought of finding this nobody, sharing my food, and talking to him came to mind (I blame you for this one). It took all day, but I finally found him. You know me, Ben, that I would never in a million years find some stranger, walk up to him, and talk to him because of fear and my aspergers. He looked broken and forgotten, come to think of it, I think he was also the oldest person I saw here. It looked like he was eating just fine, but by the looks of how tired he was, he reminded me of how I would see a dirty rag on the ground at home, too lazy to pick it up and hope one of the other house dwellers would pick it up, but nobody ever does, so in the end I have to confront it. The conversation was awkward and choppy, but he liked to talk. Out of nowhere he tells me flat out “The Hirouleysi and Sagrabt are working together.” Me being the intellectual I was and how suspicious I was about the Sagrabt to begin with, I asked how do you know this and why. He proceeded to tell me that ever since he became a shadow to everyone here, he was able to gather information from just about anyone, even conversations between Hirouleysi. He never told anyone because of fear of the Hirouleysi, and no one seemed to be bothered enough to look for information. Everyone just wanted out, but the only way to do that is death, so why not collect intel and wait for someone who had the guts to do something with it, to give them hope? The man explained in detail what he knows, but in general, the Hirouleysi and Sagrabt are working together because of money and power, but their agendas are different. For some reason, the Hirouleysi are planning treason against Sagrabt because “those are the exact type of people that need to be purged from the world.” From this comment, it seems like the Hirouleysi are trying to do some good, but my question is why are they killing and trapping innocent people? What does the Sagrabt get out of it? Both of them must be planning something bigger. Someone else beyond these metal and rock walls has to of caught a whiff of what’s going on and is doing something about it, because I don’t have the courage to do anything.

   Last thing before bed, the man told me to never speak to him again. He wouldn’t tell me why, but it was nothing against me, it was for “personal matters.” I hope he isn’t going to kill himself.

7 November, 2538

Dear Ben,

   I began my overseer job a bit after my last letter, and it was, at the least, weird. I got the night shift because I was able to gain the Hirouleysi trust back a little and because I wanted to face my fear of what could be in the dark watching me. So I’m sitting there on a ledge, taking my break, eating my food, when one of the guards sat beside me. Not just any old guard, but one that looked like a high ranking officer, not just any old high ranking officer, but the same one over a year ago that kidnapped me. We sat in silence for a while and I was trembling and heating up with fear. Did I do something wrong? Was I going to die here? What did I do to upset them?

“So, how do you like the kveikurs?” I’m sorry, but what? Was he really asking me this right now? I’m still confused to this day why he just plopped himself right next to me asked ‘What’s your opinion on our monsters???’

“Um, well I like how they look, but I don’t like what they’re used for.”

“Uh-huh” More silence follows after.

“I’m sorry I took you away from you home, and for what happened to your parents.”

“What kind of insensitive dillweed are you?!” is what you, Ben, wanted to say, but no, what I said was even worse,

“Oh” So this is the guy that has been stealing my art for months.

“Why did you do it? What’s the point? You should’ve just taken me and left my family alone. What is…wrong with you people?!”

“I can’t really tell you, but it will all work out in the end, okay? I’ve noticed you haven’t been too lively lately, is everything…okay?” Here’s where my explanation for why this letter took so long comes in. I’ve gotten into a depression and all I wanted to do was draw constantly. I’m upset about how Luciel is spending all of her free time with Daniel, I’m feeling neglected and left out. She’s also been hanging around other people more. I respect that she has gained friends, but she’s leaving me out and barely talking with me anymore. She’s addicted to her boyfriend now.

I tell this mysterious guard all this, and we start going back and forth of ‘Did you try this? Yes I did. Did you try this? Yes I did that, too.’ and it came to a point where we both didn’t know what to do. The captain was trying to comfort me with some stories on his end and what he did, but it didn’t help. While talking to him, I had the feeling of realization that these masked figures are people, they’re all people, but you reminded me that just because they’re people, does not mean all is forgiven of what they did. I asked how and why he was here in Ditinggalkan. He said he could not tell me, but it’s all about freedom in the future. Yes, a slavery captain is talking about freedom, hardy har har, but what finally clicked was the Hirouleysi were holding slaves for a limited time. Once they reached their “freedom” goal, they would set us all free. What made me think this, I don’t know, but from everything that I’ve heard so far, this is what it sounded like. I made the stupid decision of telling him this thought because I wear my heart on my sleeve and trust people too easily, but thank god his response was,

“I’m going to say that you’re wrong so then I won’t be punished for saying that you’re right. So, no, you’re thought is absolutely wrong.” Whoever this guy was trusts me and likes me for some reason, so we talked, about other things, from then on, conversing on my break time as overseer. His name is Jodocus, he’s pretty funny and smart, and I do love his passionate personality. I found out he took my drawings at first for proof of my “worthiness of being in Ditinggalkan,” and the second time and so on for admiring them. He also told me he’s never giving them back, so I’m a little butthurt from that. Meeting him changed my view on the Hirouleysi, but I want you to keep reminding me that just because one is like this, does not mean all are like this.

   I really need to try to talk to Luciel again about the situation we’re both in. She sounds so miserable lately. She’s never happy anymore unless she’s around Daniel or talking about him. I don’t seem to be making anything better. One time recently I think I made our relationship worse. We’ve been friends for years and I never thought our friendship would be this close to falling.

29 February, 2539

Dear Ben,

   Luciel killed herself the night after November 7th of last year. I was overseeing that night, but I guess she found a spot where no one could see her. I was walking around and I smelled fresh blood. I followed the smell and I saw her, body exploded, blood splattered everywhere, her organs mangled about everywhere, spilling from her lifeless corpse like paint splatter, her beautiful pink dyed hair now caked with blood. I have flashbacks every time I think about it; I may have PTSD after what I saw. As you can tell, I was in a deep depression that nothing could of gotten me out of. I tried my best to talk to her, she told me on the day of the 8th that her boyfriend and her broke up. They had an awful argument about being here in Ditinggalkan and becoming a Hirouleysi. I was there for her, I listened, comforted, and held her, but I guess the pressure had the upper ground and she convinced herself she can not live anymore. I never thought out of all these years she would do something like this. She was so strong and smart, but depression was stronger in her head. This shouldn’t of happened, this should not of happened! I wasn’t there for her when she needed me most.

You shouldn’t blame yourself. You did the best you could.

I’m trying to listen to that. I hope you had a fun time seeing my pain, Ben.

   I was so emotionally sick from all of it the Hirouleysi took actual genuine pity on me and didn’t bother calling me in for work or anything. I locked ourselves in my cell, only coming out for food, bathroom breaks, and art supplies. I tried my best to avoid everyone; I felt bad about ignoring ‘hellos’ and such, especially from Herald. I couldn’t help it though, I wanted to be alone and with my thoughts and you. Jodocus would come by my chamber every few hours or so. He wouldn’t say anything but leave origami paper flowers for me from book pages.

   I can’t explain how I escaped my prison, but only by “it clicked.” Obviously I still hurt, but one day I just stopped, I was done with crying, I was done with drowning in sorrow. I want to think the lyrics from Phil Collins helped somewhat,

“I know It’s hard but found somehow

To look into your heart and to forgive me now

You’ve given me the strength to see just where my journey ends

You’ve given me the strength to carry on

I see the path from this dark place

I see my future

And your forgiveness has set me free

Oh, and I can see another way

I can face another day”

6 August, 2538

Dear Ben,

   It has been (ha) a long time, but I know what I’m going to do now. This is counted as treason, but I don’t care anymore. I’m doing what I know is right, and that is sabotaging; I’ll follow you now. I am going to turn a kviekur into one that would spew the cure Sagrabt is selling. Not only that, but I will also place in all my kveikurs blueprints of them and say what I know about the alliance of the Hirouleysi and Sagrabt, pocketed safely away so after they self destruct, the info will be safe. Obviously I’ll have to randomize which kveikurs will be healing and which will have the notes, but I’m pretty sure this will stay in secrecy for a while. I will be put to death for this once I’m found out, but I simply just don’t care anymore. We could escape, tuck ourselves away like the intel, but I need to stay here to gather more information, like the man in April. This is going to be hard and terrifying, but it will be worth it to someone someday. I need the people of each and every city, town, farm, whatever to know how to fight the Hirouleysi and Sagrabt, to be free from their crooked hands. I feel awful for stabbing Jodocus in the back for he seemed to develope feelings for me, from all his stealing and stalkerish ways. I kind of liked him too, I would of liked to see how things could’ve turned out for us, but I don’t want to be in pain from relationships. This is a jump from the last letter, but I’m letting you take the wheel now, I’m done with being scared all the time, just take over.

X XX, XXXX

Dear Khristina,

   We’ve made wonderful progress so far, but I do feel empty and bored of life. Do you think we did the right thing? Maybe we should of stayed with the Hirouleysi and Sagrabt and try to help the Hirouleysi take over. I would’ve liked to see their leader and know both side’s intentions so we could manipulate them. We could of had all their attention like you wanted. We could of had control like you wanted. But alas, we’d both be forlorn forevermore. There’s just no winning with you, is there? I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, but if a better opportunity comes up, we’re taking it.

- Love from your other half, Ben~

#short story #personal #i made this #sci-fi #fantasy #repost

[rosieshipper]

Saving Rosie

Summary: While investigating an abandoned house on a suspicious murder case, Sam and Dean come across a little girl who is more than what she seems

Tw: Blood, death

Sam looked at the old house as Dean parked the impala. The two of them were looking into asuspicious murder case of a woman and her ex husband. “This is the place.” He muttered as he stepped out of the car. “Well you’re right, that certainly is a spooky lookin abandoned house.” Dean hummed as he got out of the car. Sam soon got out after him and walked up to the house. “It doesn’t look that bad. Only looks like no one’s been in here for a few months or so.” Sam commented before walking up and trying the door. “Shit.” He cursed. Of course it was locked.

“I’ll go get my lock pick and then we-“ Sam was cut off by the sound of glass breaking. Looking over, he saw the living room window shattered and Dean starting to climb in. “Really?” He looked at his brother with a raised brow. “What? It’s quick and easy.” Dean said before hopping through the broken window. Sam rolled his eyes before going in after him.

The moment the two of them stepped into the room, they were met with a god awful stench. “Oh Jesus.” Sam muttered as he covered his nose to block out the smell. He looked over as Dean walked ahead with a flashlight in hand. Suddenly Dean stopped and pointed his flashlight to the floor. There was the cause of the stench. A man’s body lay back down on the floor. There was a large gaping hole in his chest, his heart was missing. Not too far away from the man was a shotgun on the ground. Dean walked over and picked it up.

“Think it might have been a suicide?” Dean wondered as Sam walked up to inspect the body. “No, the hole is too big for a gunshot.” Sam commented before looking around for clues around the body. Sam saw a small trail of blood leading up the stairs. “You look around down here. I’m gonna check upstairs.” Sam said before pulling out a flashlight of his own and climbing the stairs. “Alright, holler if you see anything.” Dean told him before going to check around the bottom floor.

As Sam slowly ascended the flight of stairs, he could see that the blood trail was getting bigger and bigger. It wasn’t until when he got to the top was when he found the source. A small bloody heart laid at the top step, flies swarming around it. Sam almost gagged a little at the sight. “Dean!” Sam called as he walked around the heart. “Yeah?” His brother called back. “I found the guy’s heart. Something must have ripped it out.” Suddenly, Sam heard the sound of something moving in a room down the hall.

Slowly, he started to walk towards the room, making sure his footsteps were light. Once he was close enough to the door, Sam grabbed the doorknob quietly and slowly opened the door, shining his flashlight in the room. From what he could see, it was a little girl’s room. As he shined his flashlight around the room, Sam could see that room was completely torn up. Clothes and bedding were thrown all over the floor, there were scratch marks on the walls, the dresser had been knocked over. Something clearly happened in that room.

Sam looked over suddenly when he heard movement coming from inside the closet. Feeling his heart rate kick up a little, Sam slowly made his way to the closet door. His hand gripping his flashlight tightly, he grabbed the door handle and forced the door open quickly. He almost jumped at what he saw.

Inside the closet was a little girl curled up in the corner. She was letting out shaky and wheezy breaths as she stared up at Sam with wide eyes. Thinking quickly, Sam backed up a little as to not crowd the girl. “Hey, hey it’s ok, I’m not here to hurt you.” He said gently as he set the flashlight down on the ground and held his hands up. As he looked at the girl more, he could see some distinguishing features about her. Her arms, legs, and neck were covered in claw-like scars. Her eyes were glowing a light purple and her teeth seemed to be sharpened into fangs. This girl certainly wasn’t human.

“Y-You shouldn’t be here…” She chattered out, her small body shaking from head to toe. “It’s ok, we can get you out of here and somewhere more safe. What’s your name?” Sam asked her in a gentle tone, trying to see if he could get any information out of her. “...Rosie.” The girl muttered, looking at him warily. “Rosie huh? That’s a nice name. I’m Sam, my brother Dean is downstairs. Can you tell me how old you are?” Sam asked her. “12 almost 13.” Rosie told him softly. “Oh nice, you’re almost a teen.” Sam hummed with a small grin. “Can you tell me where your mom and dad are?” He then asked her.

Rosie was silent for a moment before looking Sam dead in his eyes. “Daddy’s dead downstairs and mama’s inside me..” She whispered, a small shake in her voice. Sam was confused at first by her words. “Can you tell me what happened here?” He asked her gently. “...M-Mama and Daddy fought a lot. And one day, Mama came home and told me that Daddy was leaving. I was sad but glad that the fighting would stop..” Rosie started out. Sam sat himself down on the wood floor so he could listen to her story.

“One night, mama was cooking dinner and I was in my room coloring. Things were really quiet then I heard a loud bang and then mama’s scream. There was another bang and it got quiet again. I went downstairs to see what was wrong but then I got dizzy and it went dark. I woke up a long time later and found Daddy dead in the living room. Mama made me do it. She made me kill him. She turned me into a monster.” Rosie finished off as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

Now it made sense. Rosie’s parents got a divorce and her father killed her mother. Her mother’s spirit possessed her to get revenge. And since her mother made her kill, she has become a half demon. “I’m sorry to hear that you had to go through all that, Rosie. Me and my brother, we can both help you.” Sam told her as he started to stand up. He looked over when Rosie didn’t reply. “Rosie?”

Suddenly, Sam was knocked to the floor as Rosie tackled him with unbelievable strength. Looking up, he saw that she had completely changed. Black horns grew from her head and black wings stretched out from her back. Her fingers had turned into jagged claws. “She’s going to kill you too.” Rosie’s voice whispered out in an ominous tone before she started clawing at his clothes, trying to rip him apart.

“Dean!” Sam yelled out as he tried his damndest to fight her off of him. In a few seconds flat, the door to the bedroom was forced open as Dean ran into the room. He saw the girl on top of Sam and immediately forced her off, pinning her to the ground. Sam sat up as he gasped shakily. “What the hell is with this girl?!” Dean yelled as he struggled to keep her pinned. “She’s possessed by her mother’s spirit! We have to exorcise her!” Sam explained quickly as he rushed to his brother's side. “Just keep her down.” Sam told him before he began speaking out the exorcism.

Rosie started to let out guttural wails and shrieks as the demon began to leave her body. The minutes seemed to drag on for hours as Sam and Dean watched as the black mass left through Rosie’s mouth, eye, and nose. Sam was just about to finish the exorcism when something went wrong. Sam missaid the last line of text and Rosie fell quiet. Sam looked at her as she fell unconscious on the floor and Dean let her go. “Did it work?” Dean asked as he looked at his brother. “I think so but something’s not right. Her mother’s spirit is gone but she still looks like a demon.” Sam muttered. “Did you figure out what happened here?” Dean asked him. Sam nodded and explained the story that Rosie told him.

“Well, that explains the woman’s body in the kitchen. That must have been her mom.” Dean sighed as he stood up. “Well, we should get going.” He told Sam as he started to walk out of the room. “Dean, wait.” Sam called as he stood up. Dean looked back at him and stopped walking. “We can’t just leave her here. She has no family left and anyone who sees her like this might try to kill her.” Sam told his brother. Dean looked at him confused for a moment. “So you’re saying we take her with us?” Dean asked, looking at him like he was crazy. “What other options do we have, Dean? She’s just a kid…” Sam looked at him with pleading eyes.

Dean was quiet for a moment, heard turning in his head as he thought about this. He finally sighed with a small shake of his head. “Alright fine. She can come with us.” Dean told him before turning and leaving the room. Sam nodded and turned back to Rosie’s unconscious body. He could see that her wings and horns were starting to slowly disappear. He would have to do some research on her powers and abilities later. Kneeling down, Sam picked Rosie up gently and carried her out of the room and out of the house. Once outside, he gently laid her in the backseat of the impala before getting into the passenger side. As Dean started to drive away, Sam looked at the backseat at Rosie. He knew this was gonna be the start of something unbelievable.

Tags: @aricka-and-her-fictional-others @astralshipper @kittyselfships

#self shipping #self ship #familial f/os #ghostie bros #sam winchester #dean winchester #big brother dean #big brother sam #self shipping community

[crystallized-shadow]

Chapter: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word Count: 1680 Warnings: Discussions of murder Summary: In a world where a dating site matches people up based on their search history Madara, a mystery writer, gets matched to Tobirama, a serial killer. Hilarity ensues. 

For @madatobiweek Day 4: Any AU

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Checking his phone for the 10th time in just as many minutes, Madara wonders why he had given this dating service a third chance when clearly they only matched him with shitty people. The first two had been wannabe serial killers, both intent on making him victim number three. Luckily for Madara he was highly skilled in self defense; unluckily for him his rather strange internet search history made it likely guy number three would also be a serial killer, if he showed up. It was hardly his fault his search history was so sketchy, he only wrote about murders!

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep baritone murmurs, drawing Madara from his thoughts. He looks up into red eyes and for a moment Madara forgets how to speak. “You are my match aren’t you?”

“Not what you expected?” Madara asks, used to that response since most people saw the name Uchiha and expected someone more put together like his politician brother.

“You’re even more attractive than your picture.”

“Flatterer,” Madara chuckles gesturing to the open seat, “please join me Tobirama.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Tobirama practically purrs as he slides into the seat. “So tell me about yourself Madara, how did our searches match up?”

“I’m a mystery writer and I like to make sure my murders are realistic,” Madara admits with a shrug, “based on my luck so far, I’m going to guess you’re a murderer of some kind.”

“And if I am?” Tobirama challenges with a raised eyebrow, nothing but amusement on his face.

“Then I hope you’re more creative than the two wannabe killers I’ve already beaten,” Madara shoots back, “and for god's sake if you’re going to attempt to kill me after this date I’d like something more personal than a gun shoved in my face.”

“Awfully demanding when it comes to a fictional murder,” Tobirama chuckles, “but I suppose that’s how all writers are, so I’ll play along; how should I kill you?”

Madara lets his eyes travel over Tobirama’s lithe figure, lingering on the tattoos on the pale man’s face that make his eyes even more striking. “Looking at you I’d like something close and personal,” Madara smirks, “maybe your hands around my neck.”

“You do have a very nice neck,” Tobirama agrees, “but I’d much rather have my lips on it than my hands.”

“That could easily be arranged, provided you impress me on this date.”

“Now I feel like my skills are being doubted,” Tobirama says with a grin, “shall I tell you of my many hypothetical kills?”

“I figured that would off limits, one of those ‘I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you’ type subjects.” Madara says, watching Tobirama’s grin morph into a smirk that shouldn’t be allowed to be so sexy.

“I think it’s a safe bet that if I’m really a serial killer you’re going to die anyway,” Tobirama points out, “so you might as well have some fun before that happens.”

“Want to make it big by taking down a big bad Uchiha?” Madara challenges with a smirk, “of course picking the family outcast won’t do you a lot of good.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t know?” Madara asks, sighing when Tobirama shakes his head; he should have figured this would be the first man that had dug up every dirty secret the tabloids had published. “My entire family is in politics, I, the eldest son, decided I wanted to be a writer.”

“I can’t imagine that went over well,” Tobirama says, wincing in sympathy when Madara nods.

“My father has disowned me in every way except legally,” Madara admits, “said it would cause too much of a scandal. However it’s been made very clear that I'm no longer welcome anywhere near anyone bearing the Uchiha name. So if your murder plan involved trying to get some ransom you’ll be hard pressed.”

“I come from a family of lawyers, I’m not hurting for money.”

“That would also explain how you’re still a free man,” Madara states, sizing Tobirama up, “but enough about our families, let’s get back to what we have in common: murder.”

“Since we’re talking hypotheticals,” Tobirama begins, lacing his fingers under his chin as he observes the man before him, “if you had to kill someone, how would you do it?”

“Well that depends,” Madara says, rubbing his chin in thought, “if I don’t want to be caught and it’s likely to be a one time thing then an injection of air between the toes; it would look like a heart attack.”

“What if you didn’t care about being caught?” Tobirama presses, gazing intently at his match, “what if you wanted people to know which kills were yours?”

“Oh that’s easy,” Madara chuckles, “my signature would be a single slash across the eyes.”

“And why is that?”

“The eyes are the window to the soul,” Madara explains, passion making his eyes shine, “to gaze into another’s eyes is incredibly intimate, to rob a person of that in their dying moment is both cruel and thrilling.”

“Amazing,” Tobirama mutters, the awe in his tone making Madara blush.

“Ah, sorry,” the Uchiha mumbles, glancing down at the table in embarrassment, “probably not what you wanted to hear at dinner.”

“On the contrary, I want to hear more,” Tobirama assures, leaning forward to cup Madara’s chin, trailing his thumb over the other’s jawline. “You are truly a magnificent specimen.”

“Only a serial killer would find my murder talk normal,” Madara sighs, “I have the worst luck in men.”

“Why my dear author, I’m insulted,” Tobirama mutters in mock offense, “anyone that’s read your work would only be so lucky to hear you talk, your passion is intoxicating.”

“Aren’t you the charming bastard?” Madara chuckles, leaning into the hand still on his chin, “I have to give you credit though, you’re very good at it.”

“Well if that’s the case, perhaps I can tempt you into skipping right to dessert at my place then?” Tobirama tugs Madara forward and claims his lips in a searing kiss that drives all thoughts of saying no from Madara’s mind.

“Sounds absolutely deadly.” Madara grins, allowing himself to pulled to his feet and lead from the restaurant.

The door slams shut moments before Madara’s back crashes into it, a hand around his throat.

“You wanted close and personal,” Tobirama growls against his ear, “how’s this?”

“Not nearly close enough,” Madara shoots back, moaning when a knee brushes against the bulge in his pants.

“We should do something about that,” Tobirama mutters, the hand not gripping Madara’s throat making quick work of freeing the writer’s painfully hard cock, trailing feather light touches along the length.

“Tease,” Madara moans breathily, pleasure zinging through his blood when the hand at his throat squeezes hard enough to restrict his airway. He was completely at the mercy of this likely serial killer and that thought had Madara high on the endorphins flooding his system.

“Are you objecting to me fucking you right here?” Tobirama chuckles, releasing Madara long enough to to spin him around and press him face first into the door.

“Not if you hurry the fuck up!” Madara snaps, bracing his hands against the door as his pants and underwear are yanked down.

“You should never rush a serial killer,” Tobirama advises fishing a packet of lube out of his pocket before pressing a coated finger deep into his willing victim, “we like to have our fun.”

“Called it,” Madara groans, pushing back into the sudden intrusion, “so the sex better be worth it.”

“It will be,” Tobirama promises, quickly stretching Madara, he could tell the writer liked it on the rougher side, but he still didn’t want to hurt him too bad.

Madara moans loudly as one finger quickly becomes two then three, eagerly thrusting back once his prostate is found and mercilessly prodded. Later he’ll deny the embarrassingly loud whine that escapes him when the fingers suddenly disappear.

“Hush pet,” Tobirama purrs as he pushes his own pants down just enough to free his cock. Pressing into Madara’s personal space, Tobirama snaps his hips forward as his hands drop to Madara’s hips, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck!” Madara exclaims as he’s yanked back to meet the next brutal thrust, “just like that!”

Tobirama chuckles at the writer, shifting the angles of his thrusts until a yowl of pleasure tells him he’s found Madara’s prostate again. Aiming solely for that spot, Tobirama picks up the speed of his thrusts as he leans forward, nosing through the wild mane of hair until he can sink his teeth into the back of Madara’s neck.

“Tobirama!!” Madara practically sobs, wave upon wave of pleasure crashing over him as he claws uselessly at the door, attempting to ride them out.

“So good,” Tobirama murmurs, trailing biting kisses along the writer’s neck until he can nip at the other’s earlobe, “you take me so well pet, I just might have to keep you.”

“Please!!” Madara begs, not sure what he wants, just knowing Tobirama can give it to him.

Tobirama smirks against Madara’s jaw, sucking a mark there as one hand slides around to stroke Madara’s cock in time with his borderline violent thrusts.

“Tobirama!!” Madara cries as his release splatters door only a few thrusts later, the sudden clench of muscles dragging Tobirama down with him. For a second both men just pant, too tired to even move yet. Just as the killer pulls out, he feels a finger jab into his stomach.

“If I stabbed you,” Madara mutters, his words slurring as he yawns, “how long until you bleed out?”

Tobirama considers the factors involved as he straightens up his clothing. “About five minutes,” he finally says with a chuckle, carefully pulling Madara close; there was no way he was going to let his favorite writer get away now.

“Thanks,” Madara mumbles, sleepily snuggling into Tobirama’s chest, “my next killer’s gonna be you.”

“I’m flattered,” Tobirama smiles, pressing a kiss to Madara’s forehead as he takes the other man to bed.

#madatobiweek2019 #Day 4: Any AU #MadaTobi #TobiMada #Madara Uchiha #Tobirama Senju #modern au #dating service matches people up based on their search history #Mystery Writer Madara #Serial Killer Tobirama #they get matched together #hilarity and lemons ensue #sorry this is late #the day got away from me #hopefully the next one will be on time #my writing #Crystal writes #ruby

[horrorsleazetrash]

MURDERERS I HAVE KNOWN.

By Tom Leins

The first time I see Lucius Lamont he is wearing a nylon stalking mask and a pair of greasy jeans. There is a snail-trail of fresh semen down his right leg. At best, he looks like Tailgunner centrefold material on a particularly bad month. At worst, he looks like the kind of guy who advertises his services at the back of the magazine, and ends up handcuffing you to a radiator and stealing your wallet. Hell, what do I know? I only buy it for the fucking articles…

 My claw hammer craters the nylon when he opens the door, and I bundle him into the dingy hallway, away from the prying eyes of the other sheltered accommodation shit-bags. The sagging floorboards feel as soft as shit beneath my boots. I kick him down the dank passage and he moans like a fat hooker, curling into a foetal ball on the exposed wood.

 I don’t see the switchblade until it is wedged between my ribs, turning my sweaty t-shirt the colour of cheap lipstick. He laughs, but through the mangled bone and fabric it sounds like someone wanking into a verruca sock. Me? I don’t have too much to fucking laugh about…

 ***

 Four days earlier.

 The sky above the Dirty Lemon was the colour of diseased lungs. Fat clouds swirled above the pub, and the bronchial sky erupted as I pushed through the double-doors – bullets of rain thudding into the wheelchair ramp behind me.

 Remy Cornish was sat adjacent to the cigarette machine, perched awkwardly on his mid-range mobility scooter. He chose the meeting place – the only pub in Paignton with a ramp – but it was no hardship on my part – I was coming here anyway…

 I ordered a pint of Kronenbourg from Spacey Tracey and sat down opposite Remy. A thick, pissy stench hung in the air above him, and even the pub’s cigarette fug couldn’t mask it. Presumably showering has been a problem since Franco Moretti took his fucking kneecaps…

 He made half-hearted speech-marks in the air with his sausage-like fingers as he told me that his “niece” Claudette was missing. Wanted me to find her. He passed me a photograph. It was a typical small-town glamour shot: badly lit and barely legal. She was a toothy brunette with small, uneven breasts. She didn’t so much have blowjob lips as gob-job gums. I felt my cock twitch, took Remy’s money and finished my pint. In that order.

 ***

I didn’t find Remy’s “niece” – the harbour master did. Wedged behind a dumpster that was overflowing with fish guts. The Herald Express nicknamed the killer ‘The Cartographer’, because he carefully wrapped each one of his victims’ bodies in old maps. Claudette was the fourth victim. She even looked pretty in the autopsy photo. No tattoos. No piercings. No life in her dead eyes. She had been wrapped in a map of Paignton; her spine was very slightly curved – just like Hyde Road.

I tried to give Remy his money back, but he decided to renegotiate our contract instead. Find the motherfucker responsible and deliver him to his portakabin up at Paignton Yards. His bloodshot eyes were so red-raw that they look like flesh-wounds. I nodded and slipped the money back into my jacket pocket. An honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.

***

The lead landed in my lap – like a cracked-out lap-dancer...

I met David Cummings outside Foxy Booze. He was wearing a denim jacket with a sheepskin collar. He had the word ‘Mum’ tattooed across his throat. It looked new. And infected.

He chuckled when he saw me.

“I heard you died.”

“You look disappointed.”

He laughed even louder.

He smoked two high-tar cigarettes in quick succession as he spilled the beans. Said he was in the cop-shop being processed for affray – he had been caught on CCTV beating a man with the metal bar from a dumbbell – when he heard the story.

While he was in the holding tank a guy named Lucius Lamont was cut loose due to a lack of evidence. The desk sergeants – Benson and Hedges – had been drinking brandy, and blabbed to Cummings that the skinny prick re-lacing his shoes in the police station lobby was the fucking Cartographer.  

***

When I rip off the nylon mask, I see that Lucius has grey hair shaved to stubble and a few pubic-looking beard hairs along his crooked jaw. He is skinny like a stray dog, and it is hard to believe that he is responsible for those strangled, mangled bodies.

He glares at me through his left eye – his crumpled right eye socket is already matted with black blood. He grins nastily, as I probe the knife-wound in my gut.

“You’re so full of doubt I can fucking smell it,” he lisps.

I shrug. The only thing I can smell is the wet stink of shit and blood.

“Is there another girl in the house?”

He shrugs.

“If you move I will kill you, you know that, don’t you?”

He shrugs again.

“I’m not afraid. Death is something that happens to other people.”

I trudge out of the room, checking the rest of the house as quickly as possible. Inside the third room I try is a teenage girl. She has been handcuffed to the rusty looking iron headboard. A stack of mouldy looking ordinance survey maps have been stacked neatly on the bedside table next to her.

She screams silently when she sees me, eyes pleading. Her left eye-socket has been broken and a single bloody tear slides down her badly bruised cheek.

I place my blood-soaked hammer on the floor and hold my hands up, trying to make myself look as unthreatening as possible.

I rip the parcel tape off her mouth, and remove the stained Y-fronts that have been wedged inside her mouth.

“Wh-wh-who are you?”

I consider answering, but grunt instead. Then I turn sharply and stomp back towards the lounge.

Lamont has replaced the nylon mask, but removed his filthy jeans. He is slumped against the wall, trying to masturbate with bloody fingers.

I weigh the gore-streaked hammer in my left hand, holding my pulsing guts in with my right. I swap hands and the hammer feels blood-slick.  

I raise it above my head, hoping that I don’t kill him – mainly because Remy will want his fucking money back…

He looks up at me curiously, but doesn’t bother to stop playing with himself.

Crunch.

Fuck it.

Death is something that happens to other people…

THE END.

 Biography:

Tom Leins is a disgraced ex-film critic from Paignton, UK. His short stories have been published by the likes of Near to the Knuckle, Akashic Books, Shotgun Honey, Flash Fiction Offensive, Horror Sleaze Trash and Spelk Fiction. He has published two novelettes, Skull Meat and Snuff Racket, and one short story collection, Meat Bubbles & Other Stories (Near To The Knuckle). His new book, Repetition Kills You (All Due Respect), will be out in September 2018.

https://thingstodoindevonwhenyouredead.wordpress.com/ Facebook . Instagram . Twitter . Patreon . HST Merch!

#Horror Sleaze Trash #HST #horrorsleazetrash #Murderers I Have Known #Tom Leins #flash fiction #fiction #support small press #support indie writers #support indie artists #small press #support indie #write #writer #art #like #follow #murder #murderers #reading is sexy #read #read more #share #like and share

[scripttorture]

It’s prevalent and it’s relevant to you

I played a little game earlier. I went through our DVD collection and I picked out the U-PG rated movies that contained torture, shown, referenced or implied.

 It was most of our U-PG movies.

 I’ve picked out six that I think you’ll have heard of just to show you how widespread torture in fiction is.

 1)      The Nightmare Before Christmas.

 ‘Kidnap the Sandy Claws Throw him in a box Bury him for ninety years Then see if he talks’

 And it’s not just lyrics in a song, a central part of the plot is a kidnapping. Most of what we see of Santa Claus he’s restrained. At one point he’s tied to a wheel, at another he’s suspended by the wrists. These are both references to classic tortures going back to literally thousands of years.

 2)      The Incredibles

 Remember when Syndrome captures Mr Incredible? Remember the scene when Mr Incredible is restrained and suspended by his wrists? Remember how Syndrome has him shocked? How we see the dial for the electricity go into the red DANGER zone? How the hero screams? Remember the look of exhaustion on his face after the shocks and the look of horror when he realises his wife is in the plane Syndrome’s just had blown up?

 How much do you think would need to change to make that a scene from an 18 action movie?

 3)      Star Wars: The Original Trilogy

 In the original trilogy all three of the main characters, Leia, Luke and Han are tortured.

 Torture is used on Leia to try and force her to reveal information. It doesn’t work.

 Torture is used to punish Han while Leia is forced to watch, with the stated aim of drawing Luke out of hiding. It’s also worth noting that Han suffers lasting physical effects from the carbonite. Not permanent, but long lasting enough that I remember him crying that he couldn’t see as one of the most gut wrenching parts of the three movies.

 Torture is used on Luke to punish him and to maim him, to turn him into something that won’t rebel. Vader amputating Luke’s hand could arguably be torture, depending on whether you think he went out of his way to do it or not. However the Emperor shocking Luke with lightning is clearly out of spite. He uses pain to try and force Luke to join him and when Luke refuses he uses it to humiliate and punish a political opponent.

 There’s torture in each of the original three movies, stated in A New Hope and shown in the other two. I feel like it’s worth noting that in every case it doesn’t work the way the torturers want it to.

 4)      Casablanca

 This one might seem like cheating, after all it is set during the Second World War. But it is rated U, it’s primarily a romance and it’s suitable for all ages.

 The characters include a corrupt official who demands sex from young women in return for visas to ‘safe’ countries; and a former lover of the female lead who considers turning her husband in to the Nazis (who will torture and kill him) in order to rekindle their relationship.

 That’s the good guys.

 5)      Stardust

 Torture is referenced throughout, especially with the forms the murdered ghostly princes take, capturing their last moments. But the most prominent scene is the fight between the witches and Prince Septimus.

 First he’s shown the magic doll the witch is going to use against him. Then slowly, elaborately, once she’s sure he’s watching she breaks his arm. Then his leg. She draws it out to let him realise how outgunned he is and that he’s going to die. Then she drowns him

 6)      Megamind

 The titular character grows up in a jail, and that is something that still happens around the world. The set up of the prison, his cell and the reactions of the guards all suggest institutionalised torture. Remember the prison escape?

 The most obvious moment is the guards using their tasers on someone they think is Megamind after he’s not only stopped resisting but apparently lost consciousness. But the cell is what stands out for me. It’s small, it’s isolated and the only visible furniture is a chair with inbuilt restraints. The implication? The character spends the majority of his time in solitary confinement and restraints.

 Now I don’t actually think any of these movies are ‘bad’ movies or that you should stop kids from watching them. My aim here is to open your eyes a little to just how often torture turns up in fiction and how often it’s used badly. I’ve crossed several genres and eras of film and I really could go on. It’s not just American/Western movies either. I considered putting both Nausica and Spirited Away on this list and the only reason I didn’t is because it’s been so long since I watched them I couldn’t remember the relevant scenes clearly. The only Bollywood movie I own has a graphic torture scene. The movie is a 12.

 Whatever genre you’re working in, whatever age group it’s aimed at, this could be relevant. You might be writing a kids book and still need to research torture.

 I’m here for you if you do.

Disclaimer

#tw torture #torture in fiction

[ask-de-writer]

ONE WAY? (Part 2 of2)  a Bizarre Border fantasy

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the BIZARRE BORDER

ONE WAY?

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

4845 words

© 2017 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Written 2008

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, Fiction, Art, Misic, Cosplay  or other things are actively encouraged!

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PART 1 is HERE

///////////////////////

Alarmed, I asked, “What's wrong? Isn't it healing?”

“Yes, Mr. Marks, it is.  It's just the fastest healing surgical wound that I've ever seen!”

Deputy Redd was giving me a sideways look, a bit of a smile playing about his features.  “You sure that you don't want to tell me a bit more, Josh?”

Sarcastically, I retorted, “He blasted me through the middle from behind with both barrels, just off to the left of the spine.  I was too pissed off to die, in spite of a hole the size of the Holland Tunnel through me back to front.  I hauled out my gun and shot him down.  Then I fixed up my carcass best I could and called in.  Faked the spleen injury to make it look good.  

“While you were outside the door here, after we talked, Al came back to haunt me but I ripped off his ghost's arm and slugged him upside the head with it.  Then I shoved both his head and arm up his ass and stomped him back to Hell, OK?”

To my surprise, the nurse said, “That makes better sense than your other story.  I was in the surgery team that put you back together. We took out six stray pellets along a path between your front and back wounds.  Your Aorta was under tension like after an aneurysm surgery, as if about an inch and a half had been taken out.  It and a lot of the rest of the mess that we found all looked like new healed tissue.  Now, you are almost ready for discharge after less than twenty four hours.”

Deputy Redd nodded, “Fits what I found out at your place and what I've seen here, too.  All except for that haunt bit.”

Deputy Colsun stuck his head in the door and announced, “Redd, I need you out here.  Both of the surviving Rankin brothers are out here, trying to get in.”

I closed my eyes and crawled out of the ol' carcass to look over my guests.  Neither one had so much as a pocket knife.  I opened my eyes and said, “Thanks, Deputy Colsun.  Go ahead and let them in. Deputy Redd, have your gun ready, just in case.”

The Rankin brothers entered, full of anger, but sensibly not doing anything.  I greeted them, “Will, Sandler.  How you doing?  Aside from that idiocy about trying to kill a man in the hospital, I mean.”

Sandler snapped, “You fuckin' murdered my brother!  Al was unarmed.”

“Oh, really? How do you figure that, Sandler?  I seem to recall a double barrel load of shot blasting through my abdomen.”

“Exactly!  Al had a double gun and both barrels were empty when you shot him!”

“Still self defense, Sandler.  He had four more cartridges in his shirt pocket and six in his right pants pocket.  I just didn't give him time to reload.  Fair didn't seem to be the order of the day, since he'd just shot me in the back at about two or three feet.”

Will snarled, “You lost all your rights when you got killed, damn you!”

I turned to the nurse, “You've been doing my vitals since I got here.  Am I dead?  Did I even code out?”

The nurse saw where that was going and grinned.  “You've been alive the whole time.  Too much so for my taste on occasion.  Never even coded once, which, with a wound like yours, is almost a miracle.”

“Sorry, Will.  Just didn't die, that's all.  Al wasn't as lucky. Besides, I had that protective restraint order out on him because of that vandalism I caught him at.  I know that it was served and so do you.  You signed the witness to delivery line, just under Al's signature.  Lawfully I was legal to kill him armed or no, just for being within a hundred fifty feet of my property line.”

I could feel relevant info trickling into my consciousness.  It tickled just a bit, going in.  I told them, “Of course you boys know all about how I was shot.  You were on top of my south hill, watching Al ambush me.  When it went sour, you two didn't hang about, did you?  Didn't call for help or the Sheriff, either.  

“Al's old truck is still at his place.  Will's is in the shop after that stupid wreck.  Not  even your fault, Will.  Sandler, you're famous for not letting anybody drive your rig and it left some beautiful tire tracks in that soft patch just shy of where you parked it.  Your right rear has a big slash in the tread caused by that mesquite branch that you ran over last week.  That tire track puts you there, Sandler.

“Will, you were in such a hurry to get out of there that you left the lens caps for your binoculars.  They have several nice fingerprints on them.  You are toast, too.  Put at the scene by evidence left there and already found by the cops.

“Since you boys were with Al when he tried to murder me, you are accomplices before, and during the fact of attempted murder.  Enjoy the State's hospitality for the next few years.”

Deputy Colsun simply put cuffs on the stunned pair.  As he led them away, Sandler yelled, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

A few hours later, I was released by a very puzzled doctor as fit to go home.   I was riding with Deputy Redd back out to my place. Softly, he asked me, “Josh, are you a witch-man?”

“Tell me what one is and I'll tell you.  Short answer, I don't know.  Weird stuff has been happening since Al shot me.  That, I agree.”

We pulled up to my gate and Deputy Redd was considerate enough to open it up with my keys and drive me on up to the house.  As we parted company on my porch, he asked softly, “You know some things that you got no way to know.  I saw that happen.  We have two files that are still open.  One is an unidentified woman from a couple years ago.  Body was found after scavengers got it.  We never found her skull and there are a couple of odd things connected to the case.

“The other is our county's only unsolved murder.  Poor sap was just a wetback.  We'd have sent him home if we caught him.  Thing is, somebody else got him first and lynched him.  Maybe  some places they'd just say hell with it, but it pisses us off to have a killer loose even if the only guy he's killed is a wetback.”

I pretended to think it over first but it wasn't even a close call. “Can't guarantee a thing, Deputy, but I'll be glad to look.  If you have a bit of physical evidence directly connected to either victim, it might help.  Might not, too.  This is all new to me, OK?”

“Can't ask for better.  I'll bring the things by tomorrow, Josh. See you then.”  He was halfway to his truck when Deputy Redd turned and asked, “Ripped off Al's arm and slugged him across the head with it?  Shoved his head up his ass and stomped him back to Hell? That was a true story, wasn't it?”

“Actually. Deputy, yes it was.  Didn't think that anyone would believe it is all.  Why?”

He grinned a big wide smirk and replied, as he got into his county truck, “Colsun overheard the tale.  When he took the Rankin brothers in, he told the whole station.  Everybody except the Rankin Brothers was laughing their heads off.”  He drove off in a cloud of desert dust.

I went around to my chicken run.  Al's rattlesnake was still there, curled up in a corner.  It buzzed nervously when it saw me.  This time I had a non-lethal answer for it.  I used my ectoplasmic hand to pick it up and carry it safely far from the chickens.  I found it a nice hole leading to a rat den and let it go.

I went back to the chicken run and used the same technique to gather the eggs and check feed and water.  All well, I went back to the house.  Where I found Al waiting for me.

He tried for another “ghostly wail” but I shoved an ectoplasmic fist down his throat.  Setting my eggs down in a bowl by the sink, I started to rinse them.  Next to Al, a large dog-like shape began to fade into existence.  A Hell-Hound.  

Al began to crow triumphantly, “Might mess with me, Marks, but there's no way that you can fuck with this monster!”

Mildly I replied, “For once in your whole existence, Al, you are right.”  I turned to the Hell-Hound and said, “It is my understanding that you can speak.  Is this so?”

A blacker than midnight head turned to gaze at me with eyes that, though also black, gave the impression of flames.  It spoke, revealing far more and larger fangs than any earthly hound, “That is true.  Why do you not flee or show terror?”

“I am a bit afraid, I'll admit freely.  The rest is obvious. There's no point to it.  Why run from what cannot be escaped?  As for terror, courage, or what we sometimes call guts, consists of facing fear and dealing with it.

“If I must, I'll go with you freely and with no resistance.  First, though, I'd like to do something to entertain us both.  Let me deal with Al and then let us do whatever is necessary.  Did you see what I did to him last time?”

The Hell-Hound grinned, displaying a canine-shaming degree of mouth armaments.  It gave a very canine bark as it said, “I did.  Many had laughter after the form allowed us.”

The ghostly Al purpled and tried to grow “Nightmare on Elm St.” type razor claws.  His first swipe with them was his last.  Dumb roundhouse swing.  I ducked under it, grabbed his ectoplasmic arm and heaved.  The arm and hand ripped off.  My return cut was a low line rising swing just fractionally following a poke at his eyes with my free hand.  Al's own Freddy Kruger kit carved right up through his prominent gut.

I followed my slash by a grab and scoop that spilled Al's ghostly intestines on the deck.  It looked like he could still feel what was happening to him because he doubled up in agony.  I pulled out his large intestine and cut it free at the inside of his anus and shoved the end of his gut down his own throat.  I tied his hands and feet together with the rest of his intestines.

“You are so full of your own shit, Al, that you might as well get it direct from the source,” I told him as I stomped him down through the floor.  It looked like it was going to be a really long fall.

I turned to the Hell-Hound and said, “Was that as much fun for you as it was for me?”

Thumping its tail, the Hell-Hound replied, “Very nearly, I expect. Shall we go?”

“Since I agreed to, yes.  Is there a particular hurry?”

“Not really.  It will only delay the inevitable, though.”

“If it helps, I agree about that, too.  What were you sent here to do, exactly?”

“I was sent to bring your soul to Judgment before the Three.”

“Don't I have to be dead for that to happen?”

Wagging his tail hesitantly, the Hell-Hound said, “That is so.  You must be dead or alive by an unlawful resurrection.”

“Got a question for you then.  Can you tell if I fit your rules or do you just grab and say, 'OOPS!' if you're wrong?”

Almost testily the Hell-Hound replied, “Of course I can tell.  I just need to smell and taste your blood to know.”

I held out my hand, saying, “I hope that you don't have to do me an injury to find out.  I'm fond of that hand.”

Incredulously, the creature asked, “You will trust me not to injure you?”

I shrugged, “Same as above.  I couldn't stop you if I tried, so there's no point in trying.  Besides, unlike Al, you have behaved with both honor and restraint, so far.”

“You are very different from the usual among the Damned.  I will not harm you.”  He sank the point of one of his canines into the back of my hand almost to bone and pulled it back.  As blood began to well up, he ran his tongue across my hand.  It left a trace of first degree burn redness but healed the hole without a trace.

The Hell-beast looked almost disappointed.  He pronounced, “You are not my prey.  To kill in self defense is lawful.  You used no sorcery to live through the mortal wound.  You simply refused to fully leave your body and found a way to repair the damage before the death of the body.  I must go back.”

I sat and put a hand on his back.  “I wish that you wouldn't. Think.  You were sent to get me.  Was there a time limit set?”

“No.  You want a Hell-Hound to stay with you?”

“Sure.  I like you.  You have been absolutely fair with me and that says a lot.  Since no time limit was set, I'd like you to accompany me to my proper place of Judgment when my time comes.  Be it Hell or Heaven, I said I'd go with you, and I will.  In the meantime, stay here with me.  You'll still do your duty but get a bit of a vacation, if you want it.”

The creature simply sat down next to me and said, “We might be together for a long time.  The things that you have learned can be used to keep you young, you know.”

I patted his back and replied, “I sorta figured that out.  So, you staying, then?”

“For so long as I am welcome, I shall be your friend, Josh Marks.”

“You need a name while you're here.  How do you like Hellfang?”

“That is a good name for me.  I never had a name before.”

“Say, Hellfang, if Al really is going to haunt me, we could have a lot of fun.  You must have some purely delightful ideas.”

Tail thumping on the floor, Hellfang said, “You are right.  I do.”

---The End---              

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the BIZARRE BORDER

#ONE WAY? #Part 2 of 2 #Bizarre Border #written by De Writer

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 7 – The Literal Opposite Of Squad Goals

In which the Foxes don’t exactly win Squad Of The Year, everyone fights with everyone, disturbingly weird sexual tension is more disturbing and weird than sexual, and just when you think ‘oh man, it can’t go downhill from there’, spoiler alert: It does.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

Since we finally – finally! – got the gang together last time, I thought this chapter was going to be entertaining Exy practices, getting to know our new characters better and some fun squad banter.

Apparently, I had not been reading this series correctly if I assumed there was any fun to be had.

           The entire first week of summer practices was eaten up by in-fighting as the court hierarchy fell into place again.

The Foxes do not fuck around, you guys.

Let’s sum this up: Momma Dan keeps them all in check, Kevin is next in line because of his expertise but like everyone hates him, Matt is the underappreciated real MVP, next is my baby Renee who is still calm and gentle (and I’m not buying one bit of it), and then the rest is left to bash each other’s heads in at the bottom of the pecking order.

           It seemed Allison and Seth didn’t believe much in middle ground: either they were slinging vile insults at each other or they were making out in the locker room regardless of whoever might be around.

Oh Allison, I was just debating on whether to like your or not, but you sort of took that decision from me with your choice in sexy-time partners.

I’m sorry. I still deeply, deeply dislike Seth.

Here’s to hoping he comes around at some point.

           Even Andrew seemed quite taken with [Renee]. Neil saw them talking off to the side several times throughout the week. It was obvious no one else approved of their odd friendship, but neither goalkeeper paid any mind to the unhappy looks sent their way.

This is amazing. I cannot get over how amazing this Brotp is. Goalie BFFs for LIFE <3

Also, how is Renee so wonderful, how is she even REAL.

(She’s not. They’re all fictional. I have to constantly remind myself of that.)

I’m also beginning to realize how far we’ve already come in this book. We’re halfway, you guys, and they’ve only now got the whole team together and are starting summer practices. We may not even meet Riko and the gang in this book, let alone play any league Exy games.

Halfway, what the hell. It feels like it just fucking started.

Speaking about getting started! Remember that fun party trip with Kandreil, Exy Courfeyrac and Small, Blonde And Shady that was promised to us last chapter? Well, it’s time to suit up, guys, ‘cause we’re going to Columbia.

           “This is for you,” Nicky said. “Andrew said you don’t have anything appropriate for where we’re going. He told me what size to get you, and I picked it out. Trust me, it’s awesome.”

Not to be gay but……… How does Andrew know Neil’s size………..

Can’t be an educated guess, Nicky could have done that himself, so the only logical conclusion I get from this is that Andrew paid special attention to Neil’s clothing size when going through his duffel in case he’d need to get him an outfit for something at some point.

I can’t decide if that’s more creepy or cute.

Today’s Casually Mentioned, Yet Heart-Breakingly Sad Neil Fact is this:

           Nicky hooked the twine handle over Neil’s fingers. Neil watched him do it, trying to remember the last time someone gave him a gift and coming up blank. That his first one should be from Andrew was unsettling.

No shit dude, I’d be unsettled by that as well. Gifts from Andrew could, in all likelihood, include everything from bloody knives to living snakes to tips on how to get the freshest ‘I just murdered a dude’ look, none of which sound particularly appealing to me.

           “Ditch them tonight. Your contacts, I mean. (…) It’s not like they’re a secret. Anyone who’s looking can see the ring in your eyes that means you’re wearing lenses. I saw ‘em day one.”

I fucking called it. You can seriously always tell when someone is wearing contacts, especially if they’re coloured. I just spent an entire weekend at a cosplay convention, trust me, you can tell.

           “And seriously, brown? How boring can you be?”

           “I like brown.”

           “Andrew doesn’t,” Nicky said. “Take them out.”

And since when does Andrew’s opinion on Neil’s appearance matter? Homeboy seems to have a pretty defined taste in boyfriends. The ‘creepy or cute’ question begins to lean more towards creepy.

           Every piece of [the outfit] was black. The cargoes were light and cut to accommodate a pair of heavy boots. The shirt was long-sleeved, tight and fashioned to look like it’d been torn through in places. A charcoal inner layer peeked out through the gashes.

So what we’re saying is that Nicky shops at the Tumblr Department of the Soft Edgy Grunge Moodboard Store?

(10/10 would wear in real life. GIMME.)

Right on cue, the monsters show up again, and we’re kicking off this night of disturbing debauchery with yet another ‘creepy or cute’ incident:

           Neil couldn’t leave with Andrew in the way, so he stopped as close to Andrew as he dared and waited for Andrew to move. Andrew did, but only to reach out for Neil with one hand. Neil tensed as Andrew’s finger wrapped around the back of his neck, but Andrew only wanted to pull Neil’s head down. Neil focused on Andrew’s cheekbone so as not to go cross-eyed and let Andrew study his eyes.

A classic. Blocking your boyfriend’s way, getting into his personal space, pulling his head as close to yours as possibly to check out his eyes, who gave Andrew a handbook on how to aggressively flirt with people and how can we take it from him.

           Nicky perked up as the two stepped into the living room, but his happy expression faltered when he got a look at Neil. “Oh man. Neil, you clean up good. Can I say that, or is that against the rules? Just – damn. Aaron, don’t let me get too drunk tonight.”

           Andrew (…) put his lighter in Nicky’s face.

           “Don’t make me kill you,” Andrew said.

           Nicky held up his hands in self-defense. “I know.”

           “Do you?”

           “Promise,” Nicky said weakly.

This just in: Neil is a Banger™ and Andrew is Possessive™.

I’m still undecided on the ‘creepy or cute’ matter, although I have to admit I find this scene wonderfully funny. Because honestly, everyone having the hots for Neil and talking about how attractive he is while Neil just doesn’t care is probably one of my favourite things about this.

They drive out to Columbia and at this point I got really excited. Fun party times! Banter! Nicky fucking killing it on the floor! It’s gonna be great!!

Oh boy.

Was I an idiot.

The first stop on this night of debauchery is a nice little restaurant where they stop for some ice cream. Oh, sorry, did I say ice cream? I meant fucking drugs.

This is not off to a good start.

Next up: Fun club time!

           There was a line of people waiting to get in, and the clothes they wore made Neil’s outfit look plain. Most of the men wore leather, half the women had corsets, and a good number of both genders were covered in buckles and chains.

Fun club time at a fucking bondage house, apparently. Aaron seems to be besties with the bouncers. No biggie.

As soon as they’re in, Andrew drags Neil off to the bar, and this is the point where the ‘creepy or cute’-o-meter officially swings towards very, very creepy.

           [The bartender] flashed Andrew an easy smile. “Back so soon, Andrew? Who’s your newest victim?”

           “A nobody,” Andrew said. “It’s the usual for us.”

I am decidedly not liking the use of the word ‘victim’ in any context involving Andrew and alcohol.

                       “Cracker dust,” Nicky said as he ripped his packet open. “Heard of it? Tastes like sugar and salt and gives you a small rush. Sure you don’t want in?

           (…)

Dust isn’t bad. It just makes the night more interesting. You think Kevin would ruin his future over a night out at the club?”

           “What future?” Neil asked.

Get #rekt.

Remember when I said I’m not liking the word ‘victim’ here? GUESS FUCKING WHAT.

           As soon as it hit the back of his throat, Neil knew he’d made a serious mistake.

           His sodas had tasted sweet, but this shot as almost unbearably so, and the aftertaste on Neil’s tongue wasn’t sugar. Neil lurched to his feet, but Andrew grabbed him by the hair and slammed him back into his seat. (…)

           “Just noticed, did you?” Andrew asked. “You’re an idiot.”

WHAT THE FUCK. Are you guys DRUGGING HIM. This whole thing just flew way past ‘creepy’ and landed firmly in ‘disturbing and abusive’.

           “Did you think you were safe because you were up there ordering you own drinks? Roland knows what it means when I bring outsiders here.”

I FUCKING KNEW IT. WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL. What, is this what they do for fun at the weekends? Drive newcomers up to Columbia, drug them against their will, and then what, date rape?

           Bodies and lights blurred around him, making Neil nauseous. He clawed bloody lines down Nicky’s arm as he fought to get free. Nicky didn’t let go until they’d reached the middle of the dance floor. He pulled Neil up against him and caught Neil’s chin in his fingers to force his head back.

           Nicky’s kiss was harder than Neil expected it to be, and there was more than just tongue in it. Beneath the burn of vodka Nicky shared with him was the sweet tang of cracker dust.

Oh god. Wish I’d shut my mouth.

NICKY, I TRUSTED YOU. You’re disowned from being Exy Courfeyrac, Courf would never.

Seriously, what the actual fuck. I have nothing else to say but WHAT THE HELL YOU GUYS NO.

           “The team is split, you know. Most of them think you’re trailer trash like Dan. Renee knows better. So do I. I think you’re something a little more like us.” Andrew leaned forward and enunciated every syllable. “Runaway.”

I can’t even perk up at the mention of Renee’s name or hints at her possible backstory because this is so beyond fucked up. I’m in shock.

           “Mind your own business.”

           “Tonight is Mind Neil’s Business Night,” Andrew said. “Didn’t you notice? Give me something real or I won’t let you stay here.

           (…)

           Edgar Allan is in our district and you are on my team. You, a know-nothing from Arizona who somehow managed to catch Kevin’s eye. You, a lie from head to foot, with a bag full of money and a hard-on for everything Kevin and Riko. Do you understand?”

You bring Neil out to Columbia, drug him, practically rape him, just to find out if he’s a fucking MOLE? Are you KIDDING ME??

I’m slowly beginning to realize why Kevin puts this much trust in Andrew’s abilities if this is what the fucker is willing to do to keep him safe.

I’d love to interpret this in some funny shipping way, except I really, really can’t find this anything other than disturbing, fucked up and so, so not okay.

Also, NICKY WHAT THE FUCK. I knew Kevin and the twins were varying degrees of shitty, but I had some trust left in you. You know it’s a fucked-up story when even the comic relief is an asshole.

Come find me at the bottom of the trashcan, angrily crying over recent developments.

#tfc #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #nora sakavic #nicki reads tfc #no specific hashtags this time because I am Mad

[bluebookbadger-blog]

The Price of a Life - Chapter 13

Title: The Price of a Life Fandom (s): Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood Summary: I always thought waking up in another world would be a lot more…interesting. At least slightly exciting and terrifying, but it really wasn’t. It was more of a sudden and underwhelming event, that landed me in the company of fiction and its ignorance of modern physics. I thought it was a dream. Boy was I wrong.  Characters: SI/OC, Maes Hughes, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, etc.  Rating: PG-13

A/N: I, as someone who's beaten their trich, personally don't consider some of the elements in a later scene of this chapter triggering or self-harm oriented, but I know a few may find it that way, so I am giving the warning to anyone sensitive to such topics.

It took a little while for reality to set in, the farmhouse shrinking in the distance behind us as the car rumbled forward. I felt out of place, the dried mud that caked my shoes and legs flaking onto the carpeted floor of the otherwise pristine military vehicle. The forest that separated the farmlands from the city limits faded as we crossed back into the slums, the late morning sun beating down on the ramshackle camps.

"Stop!" I shouted, the realization of my agreement to leave this new home set in. The driver braked, Havoc, following me as I tripped over my own feet to exit the car.

"Where are you going?" He asked, following slowly with his hands on his pockets. I limped away as fast as I could.

"I almost forgot my stuff," I said, walking a few camps down the narrow side road before coming upon a familiar embankment.

I sat down on the edge and slid down, not caring for the new dirt added to my clothes. I was as filthy as I ever was on a workday, a little more dirt wasn't going to make a difference. I waddled to the first shack, peeking inside. An older child, Marcus, held a stone in his hand, arm raised and ready to launch the projectile at a hostile intruder.

"Just me buddy," I said, grabbing the handles of my bag and lifting it to my shoulder.

"What are you doing back here so early? Did something happen?" He asked, red eyes searching the light behind me for any sign of danger. I chuckled a little, I'm not really sure why.

"I've gotta go back to the city for a while, don't know when I'll be back,"

"Why are you leaving? Did you get in trouble?" I heard the shift of gravel behind me as presumably Havoc made his way down the embankment, more careful than I about sullying his uniform.

"Just some grown-up stuff, don't worry. Take good care of yourselves 'til I get back," I rushed, my hushed whisper forcing a smile as I turned to Havoc, who stood a little too close for comfort. "Come on pretty boy, we don't want the boy's back at Central to think you've run away with me,"

"There are kids in there?" Havoc asked quietly, staring down the makeshift tent with a furrowed brow and troubled eyes. I sighed and started climbing the hill to the pathway.

"Come on, it's getting late," I said, listening as he trudged behind me. Anxiety clawed at my throat. Would the Ishvalans here be reported? Killed? The thoughts made me sick to the stomach, the idea that I might be responsible for more carnage yet.

The car was still running, as we hadn't been gone for more than a few minutes. I crawled back into the back seat, my bag on my lap like an uncomfortable pillow. The driver, a younger soldier, kept his mouth shut, not asking a single question as Havoc got back into the car, eyes distant and a newly lit cigarette between his lips.

The car rumbled forward once more, and I rested my head on the window. I could hardly restrain the yawn that escaped my lips, the exhaustion of the past few days overcame me all at once. I closed my eyes, the hum of the car's engine a mechanical lullaby.

I awoke to find the sun still high in the sky, shining down on the quiet noontime streets of Central. I flinched as Jean knocked on the window, bright eyes ringed with anxiety peering down at me. Something felt off.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, stretching before I limped slowly away from the vehicle. It was impossible to restrain the grimace that befell my features at the sight of the infamous and familiar building before me. I really hated Central Command.

It was such an ugly building. Sure, it was aesthetically pleasing as far as symmetry and sound architecture were concerned, but it lacked character. Plain grey facade, plain grey stairs, plain grey walls, and floors. It was kind of depressing.

Everything ached, and climbing the stairs to the front door wasn't an easy feat. Jean's impatience wasn't helping of course.

"We're in a bit of a hurry, Mac," He reminded me, nearly to the top of the stairs while I struggled past the fourth and fifth steps. I glared up at him, reminding myself he had at least carried my bag for me.

"Every time you call me Mac, the slower I walk. Learn some patience Pretty Boy," I mumbled the half-hearted threat, my legs shaking with effort as I began to catch up to him. Something was definitely bothering the guy.

As I reached the top of the stairs, out of breath, Jean abruptly grabbed my hand and began to lead me through the crowded building.

"Oi- Take it easy!" I squeaked, my bones felt as though they were being rattled about inside me like loose change in the bottom of a purse. For some reason, the cramped room felt more claustrophobic than on my prior visits to dear old Central. I, personally, loved to hide in small spaces as a child and preferred the comfort of the closet to the open yard, but the bustle of the room was overwhelming after days in near isolation from such confines.

Thankfully, the uncomfortable experience came to a swift end as we traveled down a side hall, only a few soldiers walking by quietly. I breathed a sigh of relief, but Jean's vice-like grip on my thin wrist was unrelenting. My skin, burnt from days unprotected from the sun, stung from his hold.

"Ow!" I exclaimed emphatically to grab his attention. He finally let go, eyes wide, as if first realizing he was holding my arm. I rubbed my wrist, searching his face for any indication of what could possibly be so anxiety enduring for someone as easy going as Jean Havoc.

Hands shaking, he fished a pack of cigarettes from his uniform pocket, shakily managing to light it before taking a deep inhalation of the nicotine-laced smoke. I looked down at my arm, a bruise already forming beneath the reddened skin.

I swallowed, my purpose for being here finally settling in its entirety on my shoulders. They must have Maria in custody. They only had loose circumstantial evidence as best planted by Envy. My testimony would likely decide if she walked free or was arrested for the "murder" of Maes Hughes.

Sighing, I released my own wrist and ran a hand through my matted hair, yanking out a few strands in frustration.

"Okay, that's better, lead the way soldier boy," I said with feigned enthusiasm. It probably seemed like I was taking this too well, I going to convict the person deemed responsible for the death of a friend that I was witness too. But, I was dehydrated and didn't really care, and neither did Jean apparently, as he led on without a word.

The room he led me to was small, and unlike the crime shows with blinking machines and recording devices, was almost entirely empty, with the exception of a few familiar soldiers.

"Hello, Miss. Irish, feeling better?"Douglas asked, his voice betraying no congeniality despite the small smile that played on his lips.

"Besides the crippling depression and midlife crisis? I'm fantastic!" I said with a smile, shooting finger guns his way. I chuckled awkwardly as no such amusement came from the soldiers. Guess millennial dark humor hasn't been invented yet here. I rubbed the back of my head, the faint memory of a bruise sobering my enthusiasm. "Nah, I'm okay. My leg's working decently at least. Yourself?"

"It depends on you, actually." He said curtly, Havoc closing the door to the small empty room. It was poorly lit, the red carpet plushy and pristine. The wall opposite of the door was a large pane of glass that faintly mirrored us. "We believe this woman is responsible for the disappearance, and murder, of Brigadier General Maes Hughes." Both he and Havoc turned to me, gauging my reaction as Douglas flipped a switch, turning off the already dim lamp overhead. The one-way mirror revealed the objective of this visit.

I drew a sharp breath, more out of my occasional forgetfulness to breathe than out of recognition of the woman on the other side of the glass. It was odd to see her wearing the simple grey blue jumpsuit of a prisoner instead of her uniform. Releasing the breath slowly, I took a step closer to the mirror, observing the occupants of the brightly lit room tentatively.

Maria, eyes tired but angry, glared back at the mirror, as though she could see us. Focker sat opposite of her, trying to refocus her attention on the pictures and bagged evidence laid out on the metal table. Another soldier sat at the end of the table, bespectacled eyes focused on the book before him. As they spoke, the man scribbled in his book, recording every word. Their voices didn't carry through the glass, but from the venom in Maria's expression and Fockers gentle but exasperated gaze, I could have guessed the topic of their conversation.

Behind me, Douglas picked up a strange device and fiddled with the buttons and lights for a moment before static was replaced by the voices of the interrogation room, with just a slight delay as I watched the two converse with one another.

"...We found this bullet, lodged in the telephone booth frame, at a trajectory that would have gone through Brigadere General Hughes' head. It's a .45 caliber. The killer used only this one bullet. I'd say it was a good shot but it was at point blank range. Close enough that even a poor shot could have done it. Now tell me, what is the caliber of the gun that you carry,"

Focker spoke with a seriousness and aloofness that was uncharacteristic of him. I looked to Douglas, his eyes seemingly focused on the scene.

Ross spoke softly, no malice or rage in her voice, only a slight shiver of fear sneaking into her sentence.

"It's a...a .45, sir." Focker nodded, picking up a piece of paper from the table.

"Here we have a copy of your requisition form for additional ammunition," I could feel myself grinding my teeth, but I couldn't say anything. I could only hope everything played out as it was supposed to. "Does this look correct?"

Maria's eyes hardened to nice more, and she didn't respond.

"It says here you fired one shot, what was that round used for?" She looked down at the piece of paper. My breath was creating a small fog on the glass, my nose grazing the cold mirror.

"It lists the reason right there on the form," She explained, her fingers grazing the chain on her wrist. I felt my hand graze my own wrist where such a bracelet once resided. "I fired my weapon in defense of Edward Elric while in the Fifth Laboratory."

Focker tapped the bullet on the table, the piece of metal and obscure dot from our distance behind the mirror.

"But the Fifth Laboratory is no longer operational. It remains unmanned," Maria's impatience and desperation were beginning to show, at least in her voice which was now saturated by anxiety.

"It was definitely not unmanned,"

"Sure," Focker responded, not at all convinced, "According to your account."

I looked at Douglas, my breath shaking. The interrogation was more intense than what I had been previously subject to.

"Stop," I murmured, looking away. Truth, what if Mustang really did kill her? What if I had changed enough to convince him? I knew I told Envy to be convincing, but this was going to be too much. Mustang wasn't going to be happy until someone died. Hopefully, it wouldn't be Ross.

"Shall I send someone to search for this bullet you say you fired?" Douglas wouldn't look at me. Havoc stared blankly at the mirror.

"There was an unexplained explosion at the site. The Fifth Laboratoryoratory is now a pile of rubble." My chest tightened as drew a sharp breath. She was telling the truth, but she was also driving herself into a corner.

"So the place where you claim to have used your gun was unmanned, and if we looked for the bullet, all that we would be able to find was a pile of rubble. Is that what you're saying?"

The radio crackled, the static silence unnerving. I felt my cheeks flush as Focker mocked the suspicious nature of Ross' explanation.

"But Lieutenant, by witness testimony, you were spotted leaving the scene on the day of the murder at the same time as the shooting," Maria's eyes were now brimming with panic and disbelief. I swallowed, the lump in my throat refusing to shrink. I had told them I had seen her that night.

"That's impossible!" She said, leaning forward in her seat.

"Calm down Lieutenant," Focker commanded sternly, his glasses glinting the cold light of the room. "Fine then, so what were you doing at that time?" Maria took a breath, steadying herself.

"I had the day off," My heart was pounding in my chest, my lungs feeling constricted as I watched the scene unfold. "I was at my parent's house visiting. Please, check with them. They'll tell you." It wasn't a good alibi. I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks, their origin a mystery even to me. I was just so upset and I couldn't put my finger on why. Focker sat stoically, staring down the Second Luitenant with his hands folded in front of himself.

"All you can offer us is your family's testimony?" He asked, Maria's panicked eyes darting to the glass once more. She knew we were listening. "That is not admissible as an alibi." I could feel Maria's fear, her disbelief, her panic. She knew she didn't kill Hughes, and Denny could corroborate her story about the Fifth Laboratoryoratory. But they wouldn't take it. There was nothing in the world more frustrating than telling the truth and being called a liar.

"Stop it! Please!" I cried, my voice working on its own. My lungs sucked in air and forced it back out, but I still felt lightheaded and my hands were shaking as they grabbed handfuls of my hair, tugging it tightly. My breathing grew shaky, and I noticed Maria, Focker, and the other soldier in the room staring at the glass. They had heard me.

Douglas turned off the radio, and the lights glowed a bit more brightly as I clenched my jaw. I looked at the ground, hands slowly falling away from my ears. Strands of bleached blonde hair, still entwined in my fingers, brushed my lips as I wiped away a few stray tears. Thankfully I had managed to work myself up enough for the tears in my eyes to seem convincing.

"As you can see, we only have circumstantial evidence and your eyewitness testimony," Douglas said, hands folded behind his back. "Could she have been the one who attacked you?"

I looked up slowly, thinking over the story I had told him when I first woke up in the hospital.

"No...but..." I murmured, screwing my eyes shut and rubbing my face with calloused hands. "She-she was definitely...there that night," I said between the hiccups as I calmed myself down.

"Leave us for a moment, Second Lieutenant," Douglas 'asked', the request a clear order from the Colonel. Havoc looked at me for a moment, and I could feel his eyes linger on my face for a second before he stiffly left the room.

"Miss. Irish," Douglas continued, his face set like stone and his eyes cold, despite the sympathy in his voice. "You know that this investigation needs...closure. For everyone involved. Blame must be placed, and punishment delivered without uncertainty. You were there, your testimony is the only truth about that night that we have. I need you, without any second thoughts or hesitation, to answer a simple question. Yes or no, was Maria Ross involved in the murder of Brigadier General Maes Hughes?"

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Eye contact would be preferable. He wanted unshakable conviction and certainty. I had to sell this perfectly, whether or not everything would happen as it was supposed to.

"Yes," I said, my voice tight but sure, "Maria Ross was involved in the murder of Mars Hughes." I met his eyes, fighting the urge to look away, to stare blankly at his face to mask my doubt and fear. But I held his gaze, refraining from searching his eyes for his reaction.

Douglas was the first to look away, closing his eyes as he mulled over the result of this meeting. I released the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Thank you, Miss. Irish, you did the right thing." The Colonel said slowly, opening the door to the hallway where Havoc was waiting. "Go home, get some rest - I'm sure you'll sleep well tonight."

I nodded numbly, blindly following the vague outline of Havoc through the halls. Home.

The drive was almost silent. No playful banter, no jokes or gibes, just a quiet exhaustion. The sun was sinking in the late afternoon sky, bathing the buildings and streets along Main Street in a golden orange. The car stopped, and I looked up at a place I once called home.

Havoc followed me up the stairs of the familiar apartment complex, taking my bag from me on the second flight, noticing I was lagging behind.

"Jean?" I asked, my voice softened from my earlier crying. He stopped a few steps ahead of me. Havoc looked back slowly, his eyes tired and expression blank. I didn't know what to say, or ask, or why I even called out in the first place. Looking back, I think I just wanted someone to tell me I did the right thing. That I was doing great, and everything would work out in the end. "I...I don't," I choked on my words, feeling thousands of conflicting emotions and phrases surface in my mind.

"I don't have an answer for you," Havoc said with a sigh, responding to some unsaid question that I was searching for the words to. "I don't know what you told Douglas, and I don't know if what you told him was the truth." He looked down at the stairs, the worn carpet more of a pink than red. "But the investigation, Gracia, all of us - we need a truth to believe in. Maybe not the right truth, and maybe not the honest truth, but something believable, and something...familiar." He used his free hand to rub the back of his head. "I don't know," He murmured, turning back up the stairs, "I don't know what to believe any more than you do,"

I sighed, the answer neither satisfying nor disappointing, simply hard to hear. I followed Havoc up to the door of the apartment, where he set down my bag and began to head for the stairs.

"See you, Mac," I flinched, the old nickname Hughes gave me resurfacing, but this time, I couldn't bring myself to admonish the remark. I stood in front of the door for a few minutes longer, listening to the sounds of the apartment. Water was running in the next room over, and I could hear Jean descend the stairs below me. The Hughes apartment was quiet, the gentle hum of bustle in the kitchen the only indicator of life. I lifted my hand, and I knocked.

I couldn't tell if Gracia was happy to see me, or if she was happy that Elicia was happy to see me. There was hugging and a little laughing criticism of the dried mud I tracked through the apartment, but nothing overly enthusiastic. What unnerved me was that she didn't ask where I had been, not even Elicia asked. It was as though they had known where I was the entire time and they knew exactly what I had been doing.

Apparently (sisters name) had just left the day before yesterday. And earlier today, the Elrics and Winry had visited. At the mention of this, a glassy fog covered Gracia's eyes, but she smiled and said she wished I had been there, and although unspoken, I could see she had needed someone there. The topic was quickly diverted by Elicia's enthusiastic welcome, and we sat for a relatively silent supper.

I sat in the bathroom after supper, the warm soup sitting heavy in my stomach. My dirt-caked clothes sat in a pile by the door, a fresh set of pajamas from my old closet folded on top of the toilet seat. The bath water had long gone cold, but I didn't care. The familiarity of the enclosed and curtained tub was welcome compared to the open showers I had been getting used to at the bathhouse. My hair, finally rid of a sheen of dust it had been carrying, was now back to its near pure white, and my skin, though calloused and burnt, shed a protective layer of dirt.

Shivering, I got out of the tub, the water a disgusting milky slew of the filth that the showers couldn't wash away. I wrapped myself in a fluffy, soft towel, and watched the water drain. Even the gentleness of the towel set my skin alight with pain, the sensitive burns now exposed to the biting air. Quickly, I threw on the nightgown, the billowing, lacey, white dress one I had worn before.

I stared at myself in the mirror, the once foggy glass since cooled. I gingerly ran my hand over the sunburnt skin, the slightest nick of my fingernail causing excruciating pain. Putting on my glasses, I leaned closer to the mirror, observing my eyelashes and eyebrows. Once thin and well groomed, my eyebrows were now a bushy tangle of white, and my eyelashes, long and delicate, seemed to overcrowd my face.

I opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, my hand touching the cold metal of the tweezers as I took them out. Just a little trim wouldn't hurt, I thought to myself, the familiar urge and compulsion from years before overcoming me as I leaned closer still to the mirror. Thankfully, I didn't get very far before, Elicia knocked on the bathroom door, startling me from the trance.

"J-just a sec," I muttered, all but throwing the tweezers back in the cabinet. I turned on the faucet, watching the hairs float briefly on the water before being sucked down the drain. It had been years since I had an episode, but thankfully this one wasn't too bad. Yes, my brows had thinned considerably and had been trimmed a little too far back, but I had stopped in time. They would grow back. I swallowed, turning off the water and gathering my dirty clothes. Thank Truth for Elicia's late night bathroom trips. It felt like only a few minutes, but I had spent two hours in the bathroom. Time flies when you're caught up in a mirror.

I sighed, throwing my filthy clothes into a laundry hamper in my room. Flopping down on the bed, I stared at the ceiling, unable to calm my mind. I cracked my knuckles nervously, the heavy fear of a relapse hanging over me. I couldn't go back after so much progress, I couldn't just snap like that and undo so much work and therapy after so many years of being free from my compulsions. I got up, pacing the floor of my room. It was a familiar action, my arms folded tightly against my chest.

This continued for a few hours until my feet and legs were too tired to carry me back and forth across the room. I laid down on the bed, hands firmly tucked beneath my pillow as I thought over my options, not only considering this recent breakdown but also the story.

I hoped my testimony was enough to convict Maria, but it seemed I was losing even my closest military connections because of it. And if Mustang didn't suspect something else, if he didn't fake her death...he might kill her for real.

I bit my lip, the thought of burning to death an unpleasant one. I knew there were holes in my story to Douglas, and he had to have noticed them, but he seemed absolutely adamant that I confess she was responsible. No...I didn't say she was responsible, I said she was involved. A lie that anyone unacquainted with the case would buy as guilt. The public would eat it up. It would satisfy the masses and calm those seeking a scapegoat.

Except for Mustang. He was probably watching this case very closely, had probably gotten his hands on a copy of my testimony. He would see the plot hole, that I said there were at least two different characters involved in the attack and murder. He would not be satisfied with just Maria, if he even accepted her as guilty. Logically speaking, he would do as he did in the show, and fake her death for her safety. Then, he would come after me.

I buried my face in the pillow, trying to apply enough pressure to numb my burning skin. I drifted off at some point, thankfully with my hands securely away from my head and face. It was early when I woke up, the dreamless sleep a welcome phantom who too quickly left me.

It didn't seem like anyone else was awake, given the silence of the apartment, so I decided to find some bandages to keep myself from any other relapses. A first aid kit probably had some. I opened the mirror medicine cabinet slowly, ignoring the alluring glint of the tweezers. As soon as I saw the universal red cross stamped box, I grabbed it and closed the cabinet with a sigh of relief.

Opening it, I found it did not have the familiar Band-Aid brand bandages I was looking for, but the unmarked, white bandages would achieve the same result. With the help of some medical tape and a few foggy memories of the bandages I received when I burned my hands, I slowly worked on wrapping each finger with a thin layer of the bandages. Not enough to make my movements stiff or clumsy, but enough so that I would have no grip to pull out my hair or use the small pair of tweezers.

It is surprisingly relaxing work, the flickering low oil lamp of the bathroom and the cold tile of the floor soothing as I finished taping the last bandage. I tested my dexterity, gently putting away the first aid kit.

The whole hand bandaged was different than what I usually did, and it restricted my wrist movement a little bit but it was comfortable. And, if I'm being honest, it looked a little badass, like I punched people for a living.

Moving to the living room, I had forgotten the tranquility of the apartment at night. Sure, there were no stars, and the sounds of life throughout the building were amplified by the silence, but it was still oddly beautiful. It was familiar.

I sat on the couch, the gentle warmth of the early morning sunlight filtering through the blinds. Maybe I could go back to normal here. I could find a job nearby, make some money, get back into a routine with the remaining Hughes residence.

It was an unlikely fantasy, to live out the days until the Promised Day in peace with Gracia and Elicia, but it was a pleasant one.

Gracia woke up next, quietly shuffling into the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine. The apartment was soon filled with morning smells - hot bacon on the stove top, scrambled eggs sizzling nearby, and of course, coffee.

As expected, Elicia soon emerged from her bedroom, bed head curls turning gold in the bright morning light. We are once more in relative silence, a semblance of normalcy from the regular dining situation. Only this time Maes hadn't rushed out the door just before we settled down. I looked up from my meal, glancing at Gracia's tired eyes.

She didn't look upset, in fact, she looked rather contented, no wrinkle of worry marring her gentle features. Elicia seemed equally unperturbed.

Later, after I had gotten dressed, Gracia sled me to grab the newspaper from their mailbox in the lobby. It was strange, walking down to the bustling lobby after such a quiet morning in the apartment. It was peaceful, but the energy of the room seemed to flow, unlike the stagnant but comfortable slow morning of the apartment. A couple chatted with the receptionist, young men had gathered just outside the front door to smoke, and other lively characters made up the morning scene.

The cold metal of the lightweight key in my hand reminded me of my purpose in the animated room, and I quickly retrieved the mail from the Hughes' compartment. Mostly envelopes, likely bills and few straggling sympathy cards, and a rolled up newspaper weren't too much to carry upstairs by myself, though it was a bit of a cumbersome load at first.

Back in the apartment, I set the envelopes on the now cleared kitchen table, Gracia acknowledging my return with a satisfied hum. As she began to sort through the bills and cards, I unrolled the newspaper, a sour feeling settling in my chest at the sight of the front page news article.

"What is it dear?" Gracia asked, noticing my uncomfortable glance in her direction. My eyes replaced their disturbance with guilt as I let her take the article from me, regretting the action immediately. The woman read the headline and set the paper down with a shaking sigh before walking away. It was too early in the morning for her to be dealing with this. I glanced at Maria's picture, her eyes defiant in her pristine military uniform, taken months, maybe years earlier.

"Second Lieutenant Maria Ross charged with first-degree murder of Brigadier General Maes Hughes" it read. I should have been happy, everything was going according to plan, but that sinking pit in my chest made it impossible.

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #si/oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #bbb writes #bbb #bluebookbadger #tw trichotillomania #trich