#the building blocks are already there just commit to building the house of horrors this show could have been

[denimbex1986]

'Perhaps on the day of the Oscar nominations you heard the echo of a cinephile scream. Andrew Haig's latest, All of Us Strangers , did not receive a single nomination. To alleviate this misdeed, we hope that you will flock to the cinema for this gripping drama.

Answers

Fortysomething Adam (Andrew Scott, Pride , Sherlock ) is working on the most difficult writing assignment of his career. In his new scenario he wants to use his past. And so he wants to dig into it for answers. About why he is who he is. Withdrawn, even lonely, unable to commit. He reminisces about his youth, but that proves difficult. Adam has also just moved, but only a few apartments have been occupied in the new apartment building. He is isolated, both literally and figuratively. Yet a different environment quickly bore fruit. In the elevator he meets twenty-something Harry (Paul Mescal, Aftersun ). There is an instant spark, but because Harry is drunk, Adam doesn't respond to his advances.

To break his writer's block, Adam visits his parents' house. His parents died in a car accident when he was a child. That loss of support had a huge effect on his development and self-acceptance. All of Us Strangers is partly described as a fantasy film, specifically because of a brilliant story element that allows us to delve into Adam's personality. In his former home he sees his parents again, as they were when they died. The same age as he is now, and overjoyed to see their 'little' boy.

It does not stop at an encounter, in both parts of the story. Adam opens up somewhat due to the 'return' of his parents, and also allows Harry into his life. They get to know each other and themselves better. Because Harry also does not have a good relationship with his family. They build a life together. But gradually Adam seems to lose touch with reality. When he takes Harry to 'his parents', it is a turning point in their relationship.

Personal

Director and screenwriter Andrew Haigh adapted the story from the book Strangers by Taichi Yamada, of which Nobuhiko Obayashi also made a Japanese horror version in 1988. Haigh turned it into something very personal. The relationship between Harry and Adam makes a lot of sense to people who see the film, but I actually thought that bond was secondary to Adam's dive into the past. Haigh made a film for the generations of queer people who never fully accepted themselves because of the times they grew up in. A time when parental support was rare, because those parents rarely knew about their child's orientation. A time when they had to permanently hide a part of themselves.

That also keeps Adam very busy. When he finally tells them, it's neither harder nor easier than he imagined. These scenes combine the personal with reality: a lot has changed in thirty years. Adam talks to his father about their bond and what he should have done differently in the past. His mother asks him whether his 'lifestyle' is the right choice and whether he is not making things unnecessarily difficult for himself. These are nuanced scenes, which become even heavier when you consider that Adam projects his own thoughts onto his parents. All of Us Strangers is also a compelling portrait of parents and children. Even when they are gone, we must reconcile their mistakes with the good memories.

Just a look

If you don't know actor Andrew Scott yet, he will stay with you after this film. Like no other, he can convey loads of emotion with just a look. There is something endearing about the Brit, even when he plays the less sympathetic sides of a character. The vulnerability he shows as Adam is sometimes even too great to watch. In the great Pride he already played a character similar to Adam, but this is a level higher. This Oscar snub left me most disappointed, even though Best Actor is an overcrowded category.

Paul Mescal's character remains somehow a mystery, even though he is so prominent in Adam's life. But the young actor's performance is again very impressive. His role is smaller than you might expect, but it sticks with you afterwards. The same goes for Claire Foy ( The Crown ) and Jamie Bell ( Rocketman ), who are endearing and heartbreakingly good as Adam's parents. All four actors deserved more industry recognition for their near-perfect performances.

Despite the emotional themes, the film is bathed in warm colors that feel nostalgic. Cinematographer Jamie D. Ramsay (of our beloved Living ) also brings an appropriately dreamlike effect to the scenes with Adam's parents. He and Haigh also keep the film visually interesting with dynamic and diverse camerawork. Another Living crew member is Emelie Levienaise-Farrouch, who presents a score that is not that noticeable at first glance, but adds an ethereal and mystical atmosphere to the film and thus emphasizes the fantasy aspect. But the focus is mainly on a few prominent songs such as The Power of Love by Frankie Goes to Hollywood . You will never listen to that song quite the same way again.'

#Andrew Scott #Pride #Sherlock #Paul Mesca #Aftersun #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Andrew Haigh #Jamie D. Ramsay #The Power of Love #Frankie Goes to Hollywood #Living #Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch #The Crown #Rocketman #Strangers #Taichi Yamada

[beigehearts]

Yandere adult trio: college AU These are drabbles for when they lose their mind and kill the people around you... and kidnaps you

These are going to be a little longer than usual but I hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did when writing it (also im trying out the beta version of the new posting system so lemme know if anything is weird)

Sorry this took me forever bro

CW: murder, blood, physical abuse, alcohol

Hisoka

It's getting quite annoying to be completely honest. He just won't leave you alone, constantly flirting and making passes at you. And yet at the same time he makes fun of you and is actually very mean. It wasn't so bad in the beginning but this is just getting out of hand. You made sure he was aware of this. ---- He's looming over you as he corners you against the wall. You refuse to look up at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

While you aren't looking at him, you can feel him looking at you. You already know he has that annoying grin on his face that makes you want to punch him square in the nose.

He brushes his long fingers against your face, making a quiet humming noise. "Are you ready to give up my pet?"

You ignore his words and slap his hand away from your face. "I need to get to class, move Hisoka."

He frowns though you aren't looking at his face. He opens his mouth to say something when someone from behind him calls out to you. "Hey y/n! Are you okay?"

She walks towards you but before she can get involved you shove the man away and huff. What a nuisance. You turn towards him once you're standing next to your friend and glare at him.

"Leave me alone. It's annoying and it's scaring people. Got it?" Before he can respond you turn on your heels and drag your friend down the hall by her wrist just hoping to put distance between the two of you. ---- You're pretty sure you made it clear that you don't want him near you anymore. But by now you know he doesn't give up so easily. One can only hope that he gets bored of you and finds someone else to bother.

You and your friends went out for brunch earlier, and all was well until Chelsea handed you something. She said that she found it in her bag but it was addressed to you, so you put it in your own bag.

You pour yourself a rum and coke and make yourself comfortable on the couch of your shared apartment. All of your roommates went out for drinks but you were too tired to go out.

After taking a sip of the sweet liquid in your glass, you examine the letter you were given earlier. It's a typical white envelope with your name written in pen. There's no address on it or return address so you assume it was just supposed to be handed to you.

You rip open the letter with your finger and pull out the singular loose leaf paper. It's folded in three sections so you pull it open. The handwriting is messy but in an aesthetic sort of way.

Dear y/n, I strongly suggest that you go to class 406B in the technical building tonight. Don't be late or you'll miss the whole party. 10:45 pm - see you then. I almost forgot, if you don't come I have some revealing pictures of you that I can share with anyone I wish to. XOXO

This is the strangest letter you've ever received. It's probably a prank by one of your roommates or friends. You've never sent nudes to anyone so obviously they're bluffing.

Though perhaps you should entertain your friends and go. Who knows, maybe there will be drinks. But you are tired... Maybe you'll just go to bed. You peek over to the time on your phone, it's 9:12 pm. Yeah, you'll just go to bed after you finish your drink.

'bzz' 'bzzz'

Who is texting you so late at night? You sit up and realize you fell asleep on the couch. You wipe the drool off of your face and grab your phone with distain for whoever woke you up.

It's a blocked number.

ur late

Late? Late for what? Your phone displays the time, 11:27 pm. Are your friends really this committed to their prank? They must be trying to get Tik Tok famous or some shit. Well you're awake now, you might as well head over there.

----

The moment you step into the building something seems off. If all of the lights including the emergency lights wasn't enough, the ground seems sticky. Though you can't bring yourself to use your phone flash light to see what it is.

Eventually you find the room 406B in the darkness. The door is closed and no lights are on in the room. It seems as if no one is inside. As you reach for the handle of the door, you notice something on the window of the door. You can barely make it out, but there's what looks like a hand print. You chuckle, this must be a prank.

Now feeling a little better, you open the door and step inside. It's too dark to see anything but you can make out some figures in the dark. It must be your friends thinking they're being sneaky.

You roll your eyes and look for the light switch, finding it and switching it on. You squint at the sudden light, and your eyes begin to focus. Which you wish they never did.

There is blood everywhere, on the ceiling, the windows, the floor, the tables... But that's not the most jarring part. Your friends are sitting in chairs, one of them sitting on the ground against the wall.

There is your friend Chelsea, sitting in a chair with her head tipped down. You can't even tell what color her clothes originally were, they're covered in red, a dark dark red. Next to her is Derick, he's sitting the same way except his head is tipped backwards. His eyes are wide and his face is left in permanent horror- expressing the brutality of his end. You can't bare to look anymore, you drop to your knees and cover your face with your hands.

You scream and scream until your voice is hoarse and throat is raw. You're left coughing while you are drowned by your own tears.

"Are you ready to give up yet?" A deep voice asks from in front of you.

You can't stop the flow of tears as you look up at this monster. He's also covered in blood, and some is splattered on his face. He wipes a thumb across his face in the blood, and brings it to his lips. Sobs rack your body, you can't even make sense of this.

Hisoka squats down so you're face to face and grips your jaw bone tightly in his hand. You can feel the now cold substance being rubbed against your jaw by his fingers and it makes you want to puke.

"I got tired of waiting for you." His grin is nauseating, forcing you to stop yourself from puking.

His nails dig into your skin, mixing your own blood with that of your friend's. He brings his face close to yours and in a gentle but menacing tone he croaks, "Let's stop this childish game, alright y/n?"

Illumi

It's easy to miss things when you're caught up with the rush of classes and friends and love. All of the parties and hangovers are enough to satisfy your needs for entertainment and drama in this boring life. If you didn't fill up your daily life with these acts, you would probably sleep every day away until you fell into a coma.

To put it short, you're a busy body. And busy bodies don't have time to stop and look around at what is happening. For example, how were you to notice the key under your doormat was missing, or how your dresser drawers were left slightly open when you know you closed them before leaving. Noticing these small things are definitely not on your agenda.

It's 10 am, Saturday, and you don't have any classes or work today. You're sitting at the kitchen bar, drinking coffee and chatting with your roommate. It isn't often that you have a free day, and sometimes it is nice to have even if you want to get moving. The sun is peeking through the curtains and the aroma of espresso beans is a delight. It's a bit chilly so you have a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. What a peaceful morn-

'BANG BANG'

Your roommate eyes you when someone bangs on the front door, already knowing the events that are about to take place. She rolls her eyes and stomps up the stairs to her room, not wanting to get involved. You always feel bad that your roommates have to listen to this but you're really not sure how to end it.

You take your last peaceful sip of coffee and call out, "Come in!"

Before you can even finish your sentence, he storms inside and slams the door behind him. Your boyfriend of course is mad about something you've done. He trudges towards you and moves the stool next to you out of the way, and leans towards you so his face is next to yours.

"Are you kidding me y/n?!" He yells in your ear, but you don't flinch because you're used to this.

He rips his phone from his pocket and shoves it in your face after pulling up a screenshot. It's a conversation between you and his friend.

"Can't you learn to shut your damn mouth? This is our business and you have no right to tell anyone about it!" He's practically seething with rage.

You take a last sip of coffee and set your mug down on the counter. You continue facing forward and not facing him. "It's not our business, it's yours. And I asked him if it was true that you were cheating on me." You turn your head towards him while grimacing and mutter, "Again."

Ah but you've just lighted a bomb with your words.

His face has gone red and he looks like he's about to explode. You begin wondering why you were ever attracted to him.

"Maybe if you weren't such a prude! I can't even kiss my girlfriend whenever I want, it's ridiculous. You know full well that you're so... so... Ugh! You know what? Fuck you!"

As quickly as he came, he runs out of the house, slamming the door once again.

You whisper to yourself, "Fuck you too."

God he's such a child, you don't even want to be with him anymore. But every time you decide to break up with him he suddenly becomes Mr.Perfect. "I'm so sorry." "I love you." "Let me make it up to you." And then he does make it up to you only to tear down all of his hard work.

----

It's been a few days since your big fight with your boyfriend. He hasn't talked to you at all but this isn't uncommon for him. You promised your roommates that you would break up with him, not just for yourself but for the sake of their peace and quiet.

You texted him a few times while you were at work but he left you on read. He's so petty. So you text him one last time.

Come 2 my place at 8 tonight, We need to talk

He answers immediately which surprises you.

Can't, flat tire Come to my place

It doesn't make a difference to you where it is so that's fine. You wonder if maybe he's come to terms with the fact this needs to end. Hopefully so. If there's one thing you want him to be mature about, it's this.

Your shift ends at 6:30pm. You drive home, shower, get dressed, eat something and get ready to leave.

You send one last text,

OMW

It's read immediately but there's no response. Well, it's not like you expected much from him anyway. You drive to his house at 7:45 pm, and arrive around 7:58 pm. All of the lights in his town house are on. He's a few years older than you so he has his own house due to somehow being able to hold down a job. With his anger issues it's hard to believe that he can hold onto anything. Damn, he really is an unattractive person isn't he?

You step out of your car and lock it. Now that you're out of the car you realize that it's very quiet. This is unusual for when you go to his house, normally you can hear music or the sound affects of a shitty video game. But it's silent. Maybe he's waiting for you? He must be taking this well.

You step up the creaky stairs of the house, and knock on the equally as creaky door. No response. Maybe he's sleeping? You peek into the mail box and take out the extra key for the house from it. But when you go to unlock the door, it's already unlocked. This is becoming very strange.

You push open the door and peer into the dark living room. It's not too dark that you can't make out the furniture in the darkness. You step inside and shut the door behind you, it's still quiet. Not quiet, absolutely and undeniably silent. You flick the light on and look around again, nothing seems out of place. It's messy, with empty beer cans and bottles on the ground per usual. The stains on his carpet remain untouched, including the vomit stain in the corner.

"Jay?" You call out into the still atmosphere. Nothing. Is he not home? That can't be, his car is in the driveway.

The sound of his old floor boards being stepped on echoes through the house. What the hell is he trying to pull? You look up the stairs, but it's only darker up there than it was down here. He must be drunk.

Each step you take up the stairs, your heart begins to pound faster. Something feels off, this doesn't feel right. This isn't like your boyfriend, he's simple, he wouldn't try scaring you like this. On the top step, you feel your shoe touch something soft. You lean down and pick it up, and raise it up to your face. A pair of thongs that definitely aren't yours. So that's what's happening. He couldn't even pull himself together for one night.

Your pounding heart is no longer caused by fear but anger. He's cheated too many times to count on your hands, but this time makes you angrier than you've ever been. He's never been in bed with another woman knowing that you were coming over. This is fucking ridiculous.

You stomp towards his room and kick the door open. It's dark but you can tell that there are two people in bed. Your vision has gone red, you've never been this angry in your life.

You don't bother turning the lights on, you storm over to his side of the bed and rip the covers off. Just barely you can make out a woman sleeping next to him. You grab his shoulder tightly and shake him violently to wake him up.

"Get the fuck up Jay! Get! Up!" He doesn't respond, you lean down and yell in his ear like he always does to you. "You're such a childish piece of shit!"

He still doesn't move or speak, for fuck's sake. You stomp back to the entrance of the room and flick on the light. You turn around and begin walking back towards the bed, when you're stopped in your tracks.

Everything is red, but it's not your vision anymore. The bed has been dyed red, and his naked body is covered in it. Your mouths falls open but no screams come out. The woman next to him is splayed out on the bed, naked as well. Covered in red. You look down at the hands that touched your boyfriend, they're also red.

You rush over to the bed and shake your boyfriend again.

"Jay? Jay! Can you hear me?" You put your ear to his chest but you don't hear anything. You put your finger under his nose but don't feel anything.

"Hey! Hey! Wake up! This isn't funny!" Tears stream down your face as you pull him to your chest, cradling him.

Your sobs make it hard to speak and your chest begins to hurt. "J-... Jay... This- isn't-" You gasp between each word, "Funny..."

It's only when you hear a noise coming from behind you that you stop to think about what's going on. It doesn't matter to you though, they could kill you too if they wished.

"People are strange." You turn your head to see where the voice is coming from.

It's someone you don't recognize, he's tall, pale, has long hair, and hypnotizing eyes. Your sobs cease for a moment and you hug your boyfriend tighter to you.

"All of that fighting... You were even coming here to break up with him and yet... You're sad that he's gone?" He makes his way towards you slowly, "I've done you a favor, haven't I?"

He looms over you but all you can do is stand there, frozen by fear.

The man grabs the back of your shirt and pulls you violently from Jay. You try to run back to him, but the man pulls you to him, hugging you tightly. No matter how much you flail in his grasp you can't get away from him. You're left sobbing into his shirt, your body limp in his arms.

"Why?" You manage to whisper.

He holds you to him with one arm and pets your hair with his other hand. "You were miserable. He was making you miserable."

He sighs and kisses the top of your head. What is going on?

"Come on, don't waste your energy on human garbage. I'm here, so it's fine." He states it so 'matter of fact'.

"Who?" Is all you can ask, unable to finish your question.

"I guess I haven't introduced myself yet. Illumi is my name." With ease, he grabs you by your shoulders and lifts your face up to his. "Your future husband."

Chrollo

What more could you ask for? You already have easy college classes, fun parties, a good part time job, great friends, and an amazing best friend. Tonight you're going to hang out with a bunch of friends and have drinks at one of their apartments. It's a pretty normal Thursday night, nothing odd about it.

You're waiting for your best friend to pick you up, he's always there to pick you up on the dot. If he doesn't come early that is. You shove all the essentials into your bag and hear a honk outside. Must be him.

But of course you're always tardy. You lace up your shoes and run out of the dorm room, tripping out of the building. He's watching as you stumble towards the car since one of your shoes is already unlaced. When you finally flop down in the passenger seat he shakes his head with a knowing smile.

"Oh y/n, will you ever be organized?" He asks with amusement.

You click your tongue and straighten out your clothes, "Don't ask such stupid questions."

He turns his body towards you as much as possible and pats his lap. You instinctively know what that means. You hike your foot up above the console and put your foot on his lap. He begins tying your shoe, his smile is unmoving. He's always smiling.

"Chrollo, you don't need to baby me." You roll your eyes and groan.

He laughs and pats your leg, signaling that he's done. "If not me then who?"

You swing your leg back over to your side and buckle up. The two of you hang out a lot. Since you're both going to the hangout tonight, you decided to car pool. But first you're going to go get the alcohol. Everyone has to bring something for everyone, that way you guys can get wasted with no qualms.

You plug your phone into the aux and play your shared playlist. The first song that comes on is "The Cult of Dionysus" by The Orion Experience. Something that he added.

Finally you feel like you can relax, it always feels that way around Chrollo. His presence is just, comforting, in every way. You feel like you can do anything, say anything, ask for anything. He's always there for you with no exceptions and honestly you think you may have feelings for him. But it's a question of are you confusing comfort and friendly affection for romanticism. It's just that he's so perfect, he doesn't have a single flaw. Not one that you've ever seen at least. You probably never will see one of his flaws.

You sink into the seat and sigh.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, but quickly looks back at the road. "What's the matter?"

"Oh nothing... Just, everything is good."

He knows you better than anyone, so it's an obvious lie when you say this. "But what?"

Anytime he calls you out, you surrender and tell him everything. "Everything is so great you know." He nods with your statement. "I go to a good school, have good friends, have a good job." This has been on your mind for quite some time.

"Something is missing, you know? The excitement, the... the..." You chuckle and turn towards him and put up jazz hands, "The pizzazz!"

He doesn't turn to look at you but you know he saw you when his smile widens. "I get that. Maybe you just need to step outside of your comfort zone. Do something different."

Do something different? Yeah, maybe that is what you need.

----

All eleven of you are sitting in a circle on the ground, drinking and playing never have I ever. You take a long drink of your Mike's hard lemonade, which is just something to get the night going.

Dina wipes hair from her face and smiles, "Okay okay my turn. So never have I ever.... Uhh." She pops up when she thinks of something, "Never have I ever jumped out of a window."

DJ leans forward and raises an eyebrow, "Okay what kind of window we talking? High up? First floor?"

Dina answers, "Any kind, any kind of window." The majority of you put a finger down which makes the group burst out in laughter.

Your friend Zoey finishes off her bottle and slams it down on the floor. "Let's play something else."

"Like what?" One of your friends ask.

Zoey thinks for a moment, "Like... Truth or dare, spin the bottle. Or maybe eleven minutes in heaven."

Dj interjects, "I think it's seven minutes in heaven, not eleven."

"Oh whatever DJ, they rhyme." Zoey spits back.

Lex answers, "Let's play seven minutes in heaven!"

Of course DJ huffs and rolls his eyes, "What are we? Middle schoolers?"

Guac (which is his nickname) speaks up, "Oh come on, are you shy DJ?"

Finally the quiet Chrollo sitting next to you says something, "I'm not really interested. Right y/n?" He looks at you to back him up.

The group coos at the two of you and someone says, "We get it, you got something going on. The game is just for fun, don't be so serious Chrollo."

Chrollo opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off, "Hey, you told me to do something different. Maybe this is the first step."

His face shows betrayal and you feel a squeeze in your heart.

He stands up and glares at the group, "Whatever." He storms out of the apartment, and everyone mumbles to each other. Chrollo has never acted like this so this is quite a shock to everyone.

In order not to kill the mood you speak up, "Alright, let's pull names out of a hat!"

All of you write down your names on a small piece of paper and put it in a baseball cap. Dina pulls two names out of the hat and of course makes it a dramatic event.

"Alright so first we have the most lovely of people..." She looks at the group like a teacher waiting for an answer from her class. "Gracie!" Everyone claps and she stands up in front of all of you, taking a bow.

Dina pats her thighs rapidly, "Drum roll please!" Everyone obeys her, "The next hot piece of ass is y/n!"

You stand up and curtsey, taking Gracie's hand and leading her to the closet. Dina stands in front of the closet once both of you are inside and grins, "Timer starts now kids." She shuts the door on you two and all of your friends cheer from outside.

Here comes the awkward part. It's too dark to see her expression but you already know she's blushing.

You lean towards her and in a low voice so no one else can hear say, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

She shakes her head, and you brush a hand through her dark coils. The both of you giggle when your finger gets stuck in her hair. She leans in for a kiss, but before your lips meet you're interrupted.

The front door is opened and slammed shut, you hear the lock click as well.

"Hey Chrollo, you feeling better?" "What are you doing?" "Holy shit, please, what are you doing?!" "Are you fucking crazy? This isn't funny!"

Something slams against the closet door and Gracie yelps.

"Whoa whoa, we can work something out." They sound desperate "Back up!" You hear a loud thump and then screams. "Grab him guys!" It sounds like people are running around, but soon the screams become not those of only fear but of pain. There are gargled pleas and pathetic whimpers for mercy.

You and Gracie hold each other, gripping onto one another for dear life.

Soon the screams, pleas, thuds, gurgling, all of it ends. The apartment goes quiet and you try to silence your heavy breathing.

There's a loud thud right in front of the closet and then the doors are opened abruptly. There Chrollo is, covered in blood, and you can see the bodies of your friends behind him. Before you can react, he pulls Gracie away from you, slams the doors closed and there's another thud.

Gracie's screams are blood curdling, screeches and cries for help. You try to open the doors but something is blocking it, keeping them closed. As her screams get louder you throw yourself against the doors, trying to push whatever is there out of the way.

Before you can even imagine of getting out, the screams fade out into whimpers, and into nothing.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

You're given no time to think when the doors fly open and you're face to face with Chrollo. He's blocking out the light and his usually neat clothes are crumpled and bloody. You look down to his hands, a sledge hammer hangs from his fingers, dripping with your friend's blood.

"Ch-Chrollo... Please don't." You whisper.

The sledge hammer drops to the ground and he wraps his arms around you gently. "Oh y/n. I would never hurt you."

He's so gentle with you, so gentle. It almost makes you forget what just happened, because he feels like home. "Why? Why did you do this?"

He steps back and grabs your shoulders, he leans down so he's eye to eye with you. "They crossed a line, a line that should not be crossed."

You begin to speak but he grabs your cheeks with one hand and dawns his usual smile, "You don't need them. You have me." He kisses your squished lips as if it were normal. "Right y/n?"

Slowly you nod, you don't need them. If Chrollo says it, it must be true.

"Good girl."

#hisoka #hisoka morrow #yandere hisoka #hisoka x reader #illumi #hxh #yandere illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #adult trio #yandere adult trio #adult trio x reader #yandere adult trio x reader #yandere #college au

[tsukiihime]

Til Death Do Us Part (Dabi X Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Spoilers for those not caught up in the manga, OOC Dabi, Dabi is obsessed with the reader in a very bad way, minor death and violence

I wrote this to try and get over my writing block - I wanted to try and give more description to the locations and to try and pace the story better. Thought I'd share it here!

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

The monsters always come out at night.

You’ve always heard the saying but it never really hit you until now. You were walking home from work, the cool night air stinging your face as fluffy white snow falls around you, forming cloud like piles on the sidewalks. You’re walking in a side street that is always deserted at this time of night - the only sounds are your footsteps clicking against the ground as you hum to yourself.

The walk is usually uneventful, and you expect this night to be no different. You swing your lanyard holding your house key around your finger, your other hands pulling your cell phone out to check social media as you trudge home. On your lanyard, a keychain is attached - a red and white peace knot, old and tattered. It was from a dear friend you lost when you were young, and one of your most prized possessions. It catches your eye as you twirl your lanyard around, and your mind briefly thinks of the boy you lost so long ago - Touya Todoroki. He was your best friend, and you each exchanged peace knots as a gift to one another when you were children.

“Let these knots be a promise to each other - to be by each other’s side no matter what!” That was when you were five, neighbors and classmates to each other. You walked to and from school side by side, and eventually you two were inseparable. When you were eight, he promised to marry you, and to become a big strong Hero that would be a husband worthy of your love.

You frown solemnly, heart aching as you recall hearing the news from so long ago.

“Y/N, sweetie, your friend Touya...he passed away last night. It was an accident…”

Oh, how you had sobbed and sobbed for your friend. You attended his funeral, peace knot wrapped around your wrist as you remembered Touya’s smile, and mourned his death. The loss of your best friend, your first love.

You turn the corner, and are whipped out of your thoughts by the sounds of a commotion in the distance - you reverse and hide behind the wall to see what the situation is.

A group of men are having an argument with another male - you can’t see his face but you spot a lanky figure sporting a dark trench coat with jet black hair facing his back towards you. The four other men are standing defensively in front of him, fighting stances ready and one of them has activated his quirk - he summons a knife seemingly out of thin air and points it towards the black haired man.

“I don’t know who you are, but get lost.” He sneers, the metallic blade glinting under the stars.

“I just asked if you’ve seen a girl around here. Walks here every night, hums love songs to herself? Just answer and I’ll leave you be.” You tense up at those words - you walk here every night and more often than not, you hum softly to yourself as you walk home. Love songs are your favorite type of song and you often have them stuck in your head. Was it possible? Was this man looking for you? You don’t recognize his voice or his figure, so you decide the best course of action is to get out of here as soon as possible before anyone notices you. You slowly begin to move, careful to take quiet and small steps as you try and pass this alley before you get caught.

“We already told you, we don’t know what you’re fuckin’ talkin’ about,” The man with the knife repeats, disdain and anger evident in his voice, “so get lost.” He lunges forward, attempting to attack the questioning man in front of him. But before he can make contact, the man with the trenchcoat reaches his arm out and a gravelly voice rings out in the darkness:

“Then you’re useless to me.”

Blue flames sprout from his fingertips, and even from the distance you’re at, you can feel the unbearable heat on your skin. You watch in horror as the fire engulfs the men and everything around them, searing away any traces of flesh and bone. You can’t help the scream that escapes from your lips, alerting the now murderer of your location. He turns around, and you see icy blue eyes gazing at you. He smiles wide, and starts making his way to you.

“Found you.”

You turn on your heels, immediately breaking into a mad dash as you run for your life. You are so afraid that you don’t even have the energy to scream, and you can’t hear if you’re being followed over the sound of your footsteps and heartbeat. ‘Did I really just witness a murder, you think to yourself, “he’s going to kill me next! Those blue flames...that can only be one person!”

As you sprint in the alleyways, weaving in and out of side streets and back roads, you can’t get the image of those men out of your head. The putrid smell of singed flesh combines with the shrill howls of people being burned alive, and you stop at the side of the building to throw up the contents of your stomach as your senses are overwhelmed with the stench of death. The bile scorches your throat, with you sobbing uncontrollably as fear creeps up your spine. You gasp for air, throat dry and legs burning. You recognize where you are, and try to think of a way out and to the nearest police station or Hero agency. Footsteps sound off behind you, slow and methodical. You spin around, keys laced through your right fist as you prepare to fight for your life. Emerging from the inky darkness is the obsidian haired man from earlier, with his hands in his trenchcoat and eyes focused on you.

“Hey doll. Did you miss me?” You stare in terror at the figure in front of you - black spikes swaying in the wind as piercing azure eyes bore holes through your body. He walks into the light and you suck in a breath as you recognize this man: he’s the wanted criminal, Dabi. Your worst fear comes true as you realize you’re staring down a member of the League of Villains.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you angrily eye out the fugitive standing under a street lamp. “What do you want from me?!” You scream. He smirks in response, staples glinting in the moonlight as he stalks towards you, like a predator eyeing it’s prey. You grit your teeth, begging your body to stop shaking as you feel the heavy weight of death in the air.

“Don’t tell me you forgot me Doll. You’ll break my little ‘ole heart.” Your eyebrow twitches in annoyance, wind blowing against your face drying your stream of tears. You have no connection to this wanted villain - you’ve never met him before in your life. You’ve only ever seen him on the news, hearing the terrible crimes he has committed with his organization and you recall him being a part of the plot to kidnap that poor U.A student. You glare daggers at him despite your brain telling you to run, and against your better judgement, you heatedly answer him.

“I would’ve remembered a piece of shit like you.” Venom drips from every syllable, if you’re going to die being burnt to a crisp, then you decide you’ll go down fighting. He begins to laugh, slowly breaking out into a cough as he begins bleeding from his eye and his lips. Dabi continues to stride towards you, and you round the corner, knocking over construction tools and a bag of sand that had been placed in the alleyway. You run face first into a wall, and you stare in horror as you come to the realization that you have no way out. In your panic, you start to hyperventilate - the fear of death takes hold of you as you begin to pray silently to whatever God is out there to give you a way out.

You peer down and see the sand at your feet, and in a last ditch attempt to have some sort of escape plan, you grab a handful of sand and clench your fist tight as you hide it behind your back. Soon, Dabi approaches, a twisted smile on his face.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice Doll. Running away from me?” You chew your lip, scrambling to think of an escape route. You can see him clearly now, under the street lamps. Cerulean eyes pierce through the dark, staples clinking as he gets closer and closer. Sections of his skin have been charred a deep purple, and the staples link burned and unburned skin together like a patchwork quilt. Piercings on his nose and ears glint, and while his scrawny figure on it’s own wouldn’t be too scary, the fire power his quirk provides makes escaping him difficult, if not impossible. “Don’t you recognize me?” He says it with a teasing tone, making you want to vomit.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, or who you think I am, but I don’t know you. You have the wrong person.” Your legs shake, wobbly and uneasy as you will yourself not to cry or plead for your life. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Oh, I have the right person. Isn’t that right, Y/N?” You freeze, eyes widening as your name rolls off his tongue. Chills run up your spine as your heart races with trepidation, and the hand holding your keys is squeezed so tight that you think it might bleed. “Can’t believe you would forget your dearest friend so easily. Are you trying to forget me too?” He looks at you almost sadly, but his eyes trail down to your lanyard, and they lock onto your peace knot. He smiles, genuine and wide but to you he simply looks crazed. He rips the lanyard from your hand, and you flinch in surprise. He detaches the peace knot and holds it up in the moonlight.

“Give that back!” You scream, lunging to grab it back but he simply swats you out of the way. You fall on your side, and grunt in pain.

“I’m glad you kept yours all this time. I burned mine up in the accident.” You stand, eyebrows knitted in confusion, still holding the sand in your fist as confusion paints your features.

“What are you…” He looks at you straight on, and says nothing, opting to instead let you figure out the meaning of his words. You stare into his eyes and are met with sapphire orbs staring back, the deep blue seemingly familiar to you. You only know one boy with blue eyes as deep as those. And his fascination with your peace knot in addition to his confession that he had a similar knot brings you to one conclusion.

“It can’t be,” you mind screams, every fiber of your being saying that you’re wrong, that it can’t be him. “He’s dead, Y/N, you know this...You went to his funeral, Touya is dead…” But something in you clicks. You see the red haired boy you grew up with overlapping with the scarred villain in front of you, and before you can stop yourself, you say his name.

“Touya?”

“That’s me Doll. I’m so glad to have found you.” He grins wide, a crazed look in his eyes as he comes closer. He has imagined meeting you again after all this time. He’s always remembered his promise after all. You promised him you’d always stay by his side. He’s loved you, always loved you. And you’ve loved him too. That’s why he’s taking you with him, to be with him always. He’s envisioned how you’d throw your arms around him in elation, crying that you’re happy to see him again, that you’ll be with him no matter what.

But instead, you stare in horror.

He sees the fear in your eyes mixed with disgust. You see a murderer, not your childhood friend. You picture the last moments of those men he killed not even ten minutes ago, the shrieks of death and the smell of burnt skin returning to your memory.

This man in front of you, this criminal…

He is not Touya.

“You...you’re not Touya. Touya would never kill innocent people. Stay the hell away from me!” You yell, releasing the sand you’ve been holding in your hand straight into Dabi’s eyes, and he grunts in pain as he struggles to keep his eyes open. You take the opportunity to knee him in the stomach, and he falls in pain. You take one last look at Touya - no, at Dabi - and sprint out of the alley.

Dabi recovers from your attack after a minute or so, and he is displeased at your reaction, to say the least. He stands up, retrieving your peace knot from the ground and stuffing it into his pocket. The villain walks out of the alleyway, and makes his way back to the League of Villains hideout.

“Run all you like Doll. I like a good chase.”

#bnha x female reader #dabi x female reader #touya x female reader #touya todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader

[flying-nightwing]

The Three Words to Remember in Dealing with the End

I’m trying something new y’all, this is a third person POV because I want you to unveil the actions at the same pace as Jason and not MC/reader. I absolutely loved writing this, so hopefully I did it right and you will enjoy this adventure like I did!

ps: this isn’t something fun or light hearted, it might be triggering for some people. if you are in a fragile mindset right now (especially with everything that’s happening right now), maybe it would be best to save it for later. Please take care of yourselves xx

Masterlist in bio/pinned

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader (ish) 

Word count: 5060 

Warnings: death (major theme), language

Summary: Jason finds something deeply unsettling during a not so typical night in Gotham (I’m not saying more y’all, read and find out).

It had been a strange night for Jason. Things had been quiet, not too quiet to become suspicious, but enough to underwhelm him at an unsettling level. Everything from the gloomy, yellow-ish night sky above him to his tensed muscles screamed trouble--and his instincts were rarely wrong--but there was nothing big happening. He was almost tempted to pick a fight with the wrong person just for the sake of it, just to shake off this nagging feeling that serious shit was about to blow in his face. Although starting beef again with Sionis would be quite entertaining, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with another tantrum from the eccentric man on the longer term. 

So instead, he kicked the door from the building’s roof on which he was hanging around and half heartedly climbed down the stairs. Plastic tarps were flapping around in his face like badly designed Halloween ghosts, and the wind in the half constructed walls were whispering unintelligible songs in his ears. That specific construction site had been abandoned as the recurrent vandalism had weighed the construction costs into the negative, making the company leaving it behind completely as a rotting proof the poorer Gotham neighborhoods were no longer a concern to city hall. Jason thought about the community center that had been bulldozed down to make room for the apartment complex, leaving dozens if not hundreds of children and teenagers without an after school hangout place, and it made him sigh. Now the cheap carcass served to shelter squatters, or well, him when he needed a hideout in between safe houses. 

The building in itself wasn’t very high like the skyscrapers one could find in the diamond district, it was rather on par with the rest of the apartment complexes around. From a distance, you couldn’t even differentiate it from the rest. Cheap, smog stained concrete looked the same whether or not it was a finished product. The aesthetics wasn’t something developers around here were aiming for, nor were the resident seeking lodging. Low income neighborhoods didn’t get to benefit from trendy landscaping. But the city didn’t really care about that, they claimed nobody really came around here anyway, like poor people weren’t people in the first place. But Jason knew, and every day he resented those officials on the city council a little bit more. 

A thud coming from the floor he had just passed made him halt his descent, his ears strained to try and catch some more noise. He waited a few seconds, and concluded it must have been a squatter tripping and falling on the floor when no other sound followed. But he hadn’t taken a full step down that a loud and clear cry for help bounced on the unfinished plaster on the walls. Without much more thinking, he turned around and climbed back up the five steps he had already taken, going straight for the origin of the sound. He was about to round the corner of a threshold when he bumped into a frantic young woman, her eyes wide and terrified.

“Please help!” She cried, gripping the sleeves of his leather jacket like it was a lifeline. She had an angry, scabbed rope mark on her neck and bruises the size of fingerprints around. “Somebody’s after me, he tried to strangle me!”

Well, that was a new one. Usually, there would be little punks making graffiti or trying to steal material from the structure, petty non-violent crimes like that, but he had never seen homicide, especially not since he started coming around. Nevertheless, he gently pushed the woman aside and pulled out his gun, ready to investigate.

“Stay close” He said, and she nodded vigorously. He carefully walked inside the room, analysing his surroundings for any thread or hostile individual. The floor creaked lightly under his boots, making the woman jump every other second. However, his search eventually came up empty, so he clicked the safety of his gun back on and slid it back in his thigh holster. He faced the girl and shrugged. “If there was anyone here, he’s long gone”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah” He replied. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m not sure” She flinched, still visibly. “To either questions, to be honest. All I remember was seeing this blurred figure grab my head and slam it on the floor, then his hands were around my neck… And I woke up, and there we are” 

“Do you have any idea who did this?”

“No really” She rubbed her temples. “I was grabbed on my way back from work and dragged in here. I know it was a man, but he was masked”

“Damn” He muttered, looking around. There wasn’t much left to do now, beside making sure that woman got home safely. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Do you have somewhere safe to go?” 

“Yeah, I have an apartment a few blocks away” She nodded timidly.

They climbed down the stairs, Jason following a pace behind her. She was recoiled on herself, her eyes darting from one place to another like she was expecting to be jumped at any time now. She was shivering from the harsh wind, clearly not dressed for one of Gotham’s cold September nights. He thought she was lucky to have fallen onto him and not someone with ill intentions. The people coming here usually left each other alone, but with the lady’s assailant on the loose, he wouldn’t be so trusting of everyone’s intentions around here. 

“Here, we’re almost out” He said as the front door came into view. She sighed in relief as she took the last step down and closed the distance with the door. She reached for the handle, pulled, but nothing moved. She then tried to push, but it didn’t move any more. 

“I-It’s like it’s locked” She stuttered in disbelief. 

“Let me try” Jason stepped forward, pushing and pulling the door like she did before. Strange, that door was never, ever locked. He then tried to pick it, even break it, to no avail. The door simply wouldn’t open. He huffed and took a step back, thinking. “Let’s try the backdoor”

The pair moved through the ground floor, passing in front of a few empty sleeping bags on the way. Jason went straight for the small door, only to be met with the same problem. 

“Alright, you wanna play this game?” He muttered harshly, pulling out his gun and aiming at the handle. He fired a shot, but the bullet bounced right back on his red helmet. “Son of a bitch!”

He muttered a few more curses before kicking the stubborn door in frustration, then turned to the woman. 

“Well, somebody doesn’t want us to leave '' He stated with bitter humour. “Maybe your wannabe killer is still around, after all”

“Oh god” She gasped, her chest suddenly heaving quickly. She was having a panic attack. “We’re trapped. We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”

“Hey, hey” He tried to reassure her, an uncertain hand on her shoulder. “I won’t let him get near you. He certainly didn’t plan on having me around, so he’ll stay away if he knows what’s good for him. We’ll find a way out”

She bent over, hands on her knees, and shut her eyes tight, focusing on her breathing until it somewhat calmed down. She then nodded slowly, standing straighter again. “O-okay”

“You sure?”

She took a deep breath and nodded again.

“Alright…” He drawled out, looking at her for a second more to be sure she was actually okay. “Let’s go around and see if there’s anyone in here tonight, and if they have seen anything”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” She eyed him with uncertainty. “...He could be out there”

“Then it’s his mistake” He shrugged. “Come on”

Like earlier, she followed closely behind him as he checked each floor in detail. He came across a few homeless people he had seen around before, none of which could ever commit murder, or attempt to for that matter. He saw it in their eyes, they were harmless. They had been on the second floor, the only one which seemed inhabited at all that night. The third floor came up empty as well, so Jason didn’t waste time there either. However, he was a little more careful on the fourth. It was where he had found the girl, so there was a slight chance the assaulter might still be hanging around there. He began with the first apartment on the left, then the one on the right he initially searched. He paid specific attention to any detail he might find; hair, cloth, blood splatter, anything. He was crouched over a suspicious stain when he heard it.

A deafening scream.

In less than a second, he was on his feet and through the threshold of an adjacent room, only to come face to face with a decaying corpse. The woman was staring with horror like she was in a trance, a hand covering her mouth to either hold back any more screams or her own vomit. Probably both, Jason thought. 

“That definitely complicates things now” He hummed. 

“How can you be so calm?” She was freaking out again. “There’s a body! A dead body!”

“Yeah, I know” He replied, unbothered, taking a step closer to observe. The nauseous smell of decomposition was starting to get through his helmet, and he genuinely wondered how she hadn’t barfed her guts up already. Her state of shock perhaps helped to keep her together, at least for now. “Looks like it’s a woman. Probably has been there for two weeks or--fuck this is nasty”

He backed up and gently pulled her out of the room, away from the corpse. She didn’t need to see anymore of it. 

“Well, there’s good news and bad news” He sighed. “Bad news is your guy and this poor woman’s killer are most likely the same person. Good news is that you, unlike her, escaped him”

“Oh god” She gagged, but dry heaved on air. “This can’t be happening”

“Okay, listen” He sighed, “I’m sure this is a lot for you, and you didn’t ask for any of this. But the killer is potentially here keeping us trapped, and I need you to hold it together a little bit longer until I figure this out, kay?”

She gave him a wild look like he was crazy. “How can you expect me to hold it together?”

“Is there anything you can focus on?” He tried, getting a bit impatient. Things weren’t adding up in his head and he needed to concentrate, but he couldn’t if his new unwilling investigation partner started freaking out every other minute. Then, he noticed her fingers fidgeting with a necklace around her neck, a small ring with a azur gem hanging from it. “What does that ring mean?”

She looked down at it, like she was surprised she had subconsciously showed it up. “Uh, it was my mother’s. Family heirloom, y’know. She gave it to me when I graduated college”

“It’s very pretty” He said. “Look at it and think about your mother, okay?”

She nodded, and he took a step away to pace around in peace. So there was a killer who managed to trap them into the building, or intended to trap only her, which was why he was hiding away now that Jason was here too. But then again, Marty on the second floor didn’t see or hear anything all night, and that guy had a sharper ear than a cat. Then came the question of why he didn’t see or smell the body on his first general scouting of the place. Surely, a decaying body would have ticked him off way sooner. Maybe the killer dragged the body from a higher floor? It would make no sense as to why he would have done that, but there was no other logical explanation. 

He went to rub the bridge of his nose, only to be met with his helmet. He let out another muffled curse and looked at the ceiling in exasperation. “This is the one time I could use one of my stupid brothers”

“Why?”

He let out a dry chuckle. “They’re idiots and annoying as fuck, but they’re better detectives than I could ever be. Solving this nonsense puzzle would be an easy game for them”

“Then what’s stopping you from calling them?”

Jason paused, staring at the woman for a moment. No, it wasn’t that simple. “Last time we spoke, I… We fought pretty bad. I don’t think they ever want to see me again”

“I’m sure--” 

“We’re on our own for this, trust me” He interrupted, his tone dry enough to make her recoil. He coughed and relaxed his tense posture, taking a deep breath. “I can solve this, I don’t need them. I’ll go check the body again, stay here”

“Wait!” She called before he could turn around. “What if he comes back?”

He blinked a few times, then began patting his side and pockets. He wouldn’t leave her a gun, or she’d hurt herself in the state she was in, or accidently shoot him for that matter. Nervous firing rarely even found their intended target anyway. A knife was also out of the question for the same reasons. Besides, she didn’t seem skilled enough to hold her own with a blade, and he had no idea what weapons the killer carried. The knife would basically be useless, if not more dangerous for her. He finally felt a small lump in his pant pocket, then fished for it. He pulled a small taser that definitely wasn’t his, remembering he had disarmed it from a goon earlier that night. He had no idea he had kept it, but it would do. 

“Here” He held it up to eye level, pressing the button. A blue-ish current was formed, crackling and fizzling. “You hold it out and press the side button to turn it on. Don’t point it at me or yourself. Got it?”

“Uh-- I guess--”

“Great” He pushed the device in her hand and turned on his heels without more ceremonies. 

He inhaled deeply and held his breath as he returned to the corpse, thinking about a thousand better ways he could have been spending his Friday night. He crouched next to it, grimacing at the decaying skin that made the victim’s identity barely recognizable. He noticed the dried out hair first, it was the same color as the poor girl on the other side of the wall. The exact same, he could have sworn. The killer must have a very specific m.o. he stuck to. There had been a couple of girls going missing in the last weeks, it must have been one of them. Nobody would think to check here, or rather nobody would bother. He turned his head to the side, coughing as he worked to catch his breath despite the putrid smell. He forced himself to return to his half assed detective work, scanning for any trace of struggle or aggression. The rope the killer used to choke her was still around her neck, but that was nothing Jason could work with as he already knew about the obvious neck fetish that was in play here. He poked the rotten skin with the end of his gun, pushing hair and clothes away to try and find something he could have missed with a first glance. No viable piece of information could be found in the teeth or under the nail since he was about two weeks too late, and he could not make the distinction between decomposition marks and actual contusion marks. Dammit. He had nothing.

He was about to give up when something shiny got his attention on the victim’s chest. There was a chain plunging into the neckline of her shirt, and with his gun he carefully pulled it up. He was certain his brain physically broke in two when he came face to face with a stained, yet recognizable ring with an azur stone. 

“What…” He trailed off softly. “... The Fuck”

Thinking about it, the victim’s clothes were awfully similar to what the lady on the other side was wearing, beside the obvious dirtiness difference. He looked over his shoulder, to where she was pacing nervously, then back to the corpse. Same hair, same clothes, same ring. Same approximate size, same bone structure, rope position coinciding with her strangling mark. Jason did not want to be thinking what he was thinking, because only crazy people were seeing ghosts. But was he totally sane? That was debatable. It would explain why they were locked in the building for no goddamn reason, or why Marty didn’t hear anything, or why he did not notice the corpse or the smell during his initial search, or why that lady did not stop once to rethink asking an armed stranger in a red mask for help, or why… 

Besides, ghosts would not even make the list of the weirdest things he’s seen. He himself came back from the dead, so the idea wasn’t actually that far fetched. But now, the question he faced was, how do you tell someone they’re dead, when they’re convinced they’re alive? Bruce’s training did not prepare him for that, and honestly neither did Ra’s. 

He slowly stood up, trying to scour his brain for a gentle way to break it to her. He couldn't just rip the bandaid off, that would be insensitive. And if she really did control who could get in and out of the building, would sending her into ghost shock--if that was even a thing--risk trapping him here forever as well? How does one even deal with a bloody ghost? Reluctantly, he returned to the other room, where the woman looked at him with hopeful eyes. Jason felt a pinch in his heart, knowing he would be the one to break the news to her.

“Anything?” She asked, her arms wrapping around herself. He gave a sad nod, and she sighed in relief. “Good, I just wanna go home”

“I…” He struggled to find the words. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N)” She said, uncertain. 

Jason was glad his mask hid his expression. His eyes closed as his suspicions were officially confirmed; she had disappeared a little less than three weeks ago without a trace. She had been presumed dead by the GCPD, apparently rightfully so, he found out. 

“(Y/N), I have good news and bad news”

She kept staring at him to let him speak. She didn’t seem to grasp the undertone of his words, or how he somehow said it completely differently than the previous time. She really wasn’t aware of her situation. 

“Good news is that I found who the victim is” He began, his voice heavy. He wasn’t the type to just get emotional for strangers like this, but this one especially struck a chord in him. “Bad news is… You’re--you’re not going home, (Y/N)”

Her face fell. “W-What?”

“The… Body, on the other side” He half heartedly pointed behind him. “It’s you. You went missing three weeks ago, and you’re...”

“That’s crazy!” She shrieked. “That’s impossible! I’m here, I’m right here, I’m real…”

Her voice faltered at the end, like she was starting to doubt herself. Jason softly jerked his head to the other room, silently making his way back to the corpse with her carefully following behind. He stopped and crouched like he had done minutes ago, and in the same way, lifted the ring. Something clicked in her face, a newfound horror etching on her features. This time, it wasn’t because she found a corpse, but because she found out the corpse was hers. 

“No…” She stumbled back, and Jason hurried to steady her. He didn’t know if it was necessary, since she probably couldn’t even feel physical pain anymore, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He escorted her out of the room once again and waited beside her as her entire reality came crashing down. It felt surreal for him, he couldn’t even imagine what it was like for her. He let her slide down the wall and rest her head in her hands as she processed all of this.  “I can’t be… My family, they must be worried sick”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)” He sighed, sliding down next to her.

“But I’m--” She tried to argue, then a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m not ready to go”

He took off his mask for the first time, ruffling his hair in the process. The least he could do was to give her a human face as the last she would ever see. “Take all the time you need, I’ve got nowhere else to be”

She eyed him with confusion, at both the removal of his mask and his words. “Why?”

He smiled sadly at her. “I don’t think you should be alone right now. I’m Jason, nice to formally meet you”

“I don’t think it matters now” She mumbled, casting her glance downward. She handed him back the small taser, realizing she wouldn't need it anymore. “I’m dead. I don’t even know how I’m even still here, or where I’m even going. I don’t understand anything--”

“You don’t have to,” He interrupted softly. “It’s okay not to understand. And it’s okay to be afraid. But death is a part of life, and despite how scary it might be when it rings at your door, sometimes it’s better not to fight it”

“Easy to say for someone who is still alive” She said, making his lips subtly curl up. At least she was calming down now.

“I died years ago” He admitted, and her eyes widened comically. “No, I’m not a ghost if that’s what you’re wondering. I was resurrected through magic… But I know what it feels like”

“How did you die?” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

Jason hesitated. He wasn’t used to talking about this, but he figured he could at least vent to a ghost. It might even make her feel better about the circumstances of her death, he thought. “I died in an explosion” He finally revealed as he looked away. “I realized I was dead when the countdown reached two seconds and nobody came for me. Two seconds isn’t a long time to come to term with the end of your own existence, and everything that comes after”

“I suppose not” She sighed. “I guess I’m lucky I have time to figure it out. What’s it like, on the other side?”

“I honestly can’t really remember” He shook his head. “My memory from the moment I closed my eyes to when I reopened them is scrambled. And even if I did recall, it might be different from you”

“You think so?”

“I hope so”

He did not elaborate on that, and she did not ask. Jason wasn’t sure whether his visions of hell were from his time in the grave, or if the pit messed with his perspective, but he certainly hoped this girl wouldn’t have to go through something similar as well. They waited in silence for a moment as neither felt the need to speak up. He respected her need to have a moment to herself to absorb all this like he had wished he could have had. He had never felt as vulnerable as when he waited, helpless and unable to move, for the bomb to go off. He had been terrified, clinging to a last hope it was just a nightmare, or that help would have swept in at the last second like it always happened in the movies. He had been truly alone then. Perhaps it was why she had found him earlier, she felt his connection to death and his ability to relate. She seeked one last ray of warmth before disappearing, one last attempt not to be forgotten by reaching out to someone with the best chance to understand her. He doubted it was a coincidence he was the one she let help her.

“You didn’t have to stay with me…” She spoke up. It could have been ten minutes or more, Jason couldn’t tell. He had been in his head the whole time. “But you did, for what it’s worth. Thank you, Jason”

“You’re welcome, I guess” He half shrugged. “It’s… It’s just things I wish had been said to me in my last moments, comfort I wish had been brought to me when it was time to go. I’m glad it helped ease this transition for you”

She gave him a small smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel her unnatural cold radiating on him, see the bleakness of her skin and the absence or a steady rise and fall of her chest now that he was up close.

“Well, I’m glad you found me” She muttered, letting her hand fall back down to her side. “I… I think I’m ready to go. But before, could you do me a last favor?

“Sure” He nodded.

“Could you bring back my necklace to my mother?” She asked, staring straight into his eyes. And probably his soul, by the looks of it. “This case might never be solved, I don’t want it to be lost in an evidence bag”

He was initially surprised by the request, but it made sense. This would be the last thing her mother would have of her daughter, and it didn’t belong in a locker kept away forever. He nodded. “I can do that”

“Thank you” She gave him the first real smile he had seen on her face. Her eyes had lost the life in them, that was obvious, but there was this peacefulness that hadn’t been there before. Her resolve to accept her faith showed more and more in her expression, and it was steadily becoming clearer she did not belong to this plane of existence anymore. Two weeks trapped in between life and death without being heard or seen must have been so exhausting, and now she was ready to let go. “Just one more thing”

Jason furrowed his eyebrows at her sudden knowing expression. He could see it clearly despite her image slowly fading away. Was she even aware of it? He didn’t know, but it didn’t seem painful. He hoped it wasn’t, she deserved an undisturbed rest for what had been done to her in this life.

“A piece of unwanted advice from a dead girl?” Her tone was a bit playful. He let out a quiet chuckle, his shoulders barely raising. “Call your brothers”

She became serious, and so did he.

“The worst thing about this, is that I left this life without even being able to say proper goodbyes to my family” She explained. “I wish more than anything I could just see them one more time to tell them I love them, but I can’t. Don’t take for granted there will always be a later for it, because there might not be”

“I…” 

“Please, for me” She said, almost entirely faded now. “I hope I see you again one day, Jason. Thank you for everything”

And then she was gone. Jason stared at the empty space beside him, like there had never been anyone there. The cold spot was gone, and with it the last image of her smiling face. The smell of the corpse returned at full strength now that she wasn’t there to manipulate the surroundings, but he couldn’t be bothered by it as much as he was before. He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from where she had been seconds ago, struggling to tell whether or not it had actually happened. But it must have, the entire experience had felt way too real to be a product of his imagination, and the dead body served as a material proof his head didn’t conjure it all up. Slowly, he stood up and went back to the body for one last time. He’d have to place an anonymous call to the police to tip them to the body tomorrow, after giving a heads up to the squatters to steer clear of the building until the situation died down. He bent down and only took the necklace without disturbing anything else, slipping it in a pocket for safe keeping. He’d also have to find a way to give it back to her mother without making it seem like he had killed the girl…

With one last silent goodbye to a new found yet ephemeral friend, Jason made his way down to the first floor, his step a little slower and heavier than last time. The first light of the morning peeked shyly through the sky of Gotham as the clouds appeared clear up, like it was their way of reflecting the peaceful passing of a soul on the other side. He never believed in symbolism in nature, but this once, just this once, he could make an exception. He reached the bottom of the stairs and carefully made his way to the main doors, pausing in front of it. The birds in the walls didn’t seem to mind him as they sang the arrival of the morning, and he put back his mask to face the outside once again. He gripped the door handle, pushing even so slightly.

It opened with a groan.

Sighing, he stepped outside and fished for his phone in his back pocket. He went to his contacts, scrolling down until he found the name he was looking for. Reluctantly, he pressed it and came face to face with the taunting call icon. Surely he would still be awake, his patrol would have ended not too long ago. Or he’d be asleep, and then he’d disturb him. Hesitating, his thumb hovered above the lock screen button, then over the call one, then again, the lock screen. He let out a frustrated huff, looking at the sky. There might not be a later… Or perhaps there will. But was he ready to take that chance? He looked at his phone again, taking a deep breath and making his decision.

As the first sun ray reflected his helmet, he called Dick Grayson for the first time in years.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #dc #dcu #dc universe #dc imagine #dcu imagine #dc universe imagine #batfam #batfam imagine #imagine #jason todd x you #red hood x you #outlaws #trigger warning #tw #tw death #trigger warning death

[arsonistslut]

TW: This part of the story is inconceivably violent, so if that triggers you or you're uncomfy with this sort of stuff, please skip this chapter of my rewrite.

Chapter 18: The Killer's Rampage

CRASH!

The hospital chair proved more than effective at breaking the locked window that held him inside, the moon shining in and providing miniscule light for Jeff Woods. He knew he had to be quick to get outside, as the faculty would probably be barging into his locked room any second now,so he scrambled through the broken window frame, ignoring the glass shards cutting into his bandaged body and hospital gown as he jumped down from the room. It wasn't a long fall, as he was on the first floor of the building, so he quickly proceeded off the hospital grounds and on the road toward his house, grabbing one of the larger shards of broken glass on the ground, just in case he might've needed it. He wasn't waiting anymore. It had been far too long already.

Randy Ellsworth was still thinking over his decision to split off from Keith and Troy on his way home. His mind wandered through ideas, questions he had. Did he really hurt Keith and Troy, or were they just caught up in the moment? One thought led to another, and soon, his thoughts were back at the party. He had invited Jeff there as a peace offering, something that could keep everyone happy for a bit and let everything settle down..but he just had to do that, didn't he? He had to glass him, send him tumbling into that fire..he could only hope and pray he was doing alright. His train of thought about his transgressions was stopped when his headlights highlighted a figure walking down the road, wearing some sort of hospital gown. The figure looked like they were bleeding, so Randy pulled over and got out of the car, cautiously approaching the figure.

"H-Hello? sir, ma'am, whoever you are..you need a ride or something? I can drive you somewhere, if you want."

Randy looked at the person standing before him, before looking into their eyes..the black hair was a start, but those black, sunken-in, terrifying eyes that peered out from the bandages wrapped around their head were a dead giveaway.

"J..Jeff..is that you?"

Jeff's breathing got heavier, gripping the glass in his hand so tightly that his hand bled, until he let out a gutteral yell and charged Randy, driving the shard deep into his chest and tackling him onto his car. Randy screamed in horror and pain, and Jeff took the shard and stabbed him with it, over and over into his gut as blood sprayed onto his face and body. Ellsworth cried and screamed as Woods proceeded to reach into one of the open wounds on his body and violently string out his intestines, his guts flowing out like streamers. Randy hurled a mixture of vomit and blood onto his car, before finally perishing in the killer's grasp.

Jeff shivered as the cold nipped at him, the wind howling as he opened the door to his family's home with the spare key under the floormat. The house was much warmer than the outside, as Jeff just took a moment to soak it all in..the warmth, the stench of blood on his body, what was to come next. Making sure his footsteps were muted, he made his way to the drier and began rummaging through for clean clothes, something warm to replace his hospital gown. A white hoodie and a pair of red jeans would fit him nicely, so he threw the gown aside and slid his new clothing over his athletic frame, hissing as the cloth made contact with his tender, bandaged flesh. His spare pair of steel-toed military boots tied off the outfit quite well, so he proceeded upstairs, retrieving his switchblade from his drawer and pocketing it. He then went to the bathroom, wanting to see his face after not having seen it in over a month. When he peeled away the medical tape from his face, the sight he saw horrified him. His face..it was horrible. All of his skin was a cadaverous white, now, and the old mouth scars he had were gone, overwritten by the hypodermic scarring that had turned his body into a chilling reminder of the party that had gone terrifyingly wrong. He began to chuckle at the sight, the grisly state his face was in, before taking his switchblade and digging it into his cheeks, letting out awful sobs and laughs as bloody tears began to slide down his face.

"Who's there?"

His mother's voice called out into the darkness, and with rivers of crimson pouring from his wounds, he patiently waited. Carla turned the corner, a switchblade to the throat quickly silencing her. Her eldest son watched her gurgle and choke on her own blood, a cold, unforgiving glare meeting her gaze as she died on the floor. The cathartic sensation that washed over Jeff felt unending, his breath growing shaky as he entered his father's room. Carla had gotten out of bed and left Jeff Sr. asleep in his bed. Woods slowly approached his father, before raising his blade and driving down into his head, his father's eyes widening as he realized what was happening.

He was going to die.

Liu was asleep, downstairs, his earbuds blocking out any commotion he might've heard otherwise. He was a light sleeper, so the overpowering smell of blood and sweat that wafted into his room as his door opened was quick to wake him up. When he turned around, he saw his brother standing in the doorway, holding a blowtorch he'd surely gotten from the garage and sliding something down the back of his pants.

"Jeff..is that you? W-What're you doing here?"

A sickeningly prideful chuckle came from Jeff, turning on the blowtorch in his hand and holding it in the air so Liu could definitely see it.

"I am the devil, Liu. And I am here to do the devil's work."

Liu had no time to question his brother about anything he just heard, as Jeff had pinned down the boy with his left hand, igniting the flame of the blowtorch with the other. Then, every neuron in the boy's brain shocking him with pain as his brother rammed the blowtorch into his face, laughing at his screams and cries of pain, a smile soon charred into his face, much like Jeffrey's. Drawing his switchblade from his pocket, the elder sibling jammed the knife into Liu's shoulder, his screams delighting Jeffrey as his blood sprayed onto his face. Jeff, however, was soon knocked away by a lamp thrown at his head. He dropped the blowtorch and held the side of his head, looking to see who threw a lamp at him. He had just enough time to make out Natalie's face as she then struck Jeff with a wrench, knocking him even further back. Liu's body slumped off his bed as Woods tried to kick Natalie away, to no avail when she struck his ankle aside.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!"

She cried out as blows from her wrench followed, each one more and more painful than the last. However, Jeff had an ace up his sleeve. Reaching into the back of his pants, he grabbed his father's 1911 pistol and pressed it against her cheek.

"Go to sleep, bitch!"

The gunshot that then rang out was deafening, Natalie screaming as her face bled, both of her cheeks blasted open by the 45. ACP that was shot right into her face. Jeff groaned as he stood up, his body still aching from those wrench strikes, and reached down to Nat's face, gripping her right eyeball and beginning to yank it out of her head. With a disgusting snap of her eye's optic nerve, he succeeded, dropping the eyeball next to her. Natalie screamed until her vocal cords no longer let her, Jeffrey running his bloody, bandaged fingers through his hair without a single notion of guilt for his terrible crimes as she eventually passed out from blood loss. With 3 people surely dead at his hands for sure and 2 more in a less certain state, Jeff proudly smiled as he wrote a message in blood on one of the walls, Liu's sobs the only audible sound in the house.

"Why...? Jeff, why did you do this?"

Jeffrey turned to his brother..his crying, bleeding, surely dying brother. A member of his own family, laying in a pool of his own gore. He just looked at Liu, unable to conjure an answer.

"...Why?! Answer me, damnit.."

As Jeffrey began to walk toward the front door, he internally struggled to find an answer for Liu's pleas. The truth was..he didn't have an answer. These were crimes he committed out of impulse, out of a blind hatred he felt for the world. Jeff felt that his brother hated him anyways, so the truth wouldn't change anything. He slowly walked out of his home, not a single word leaving his lips as his brother pleaded for a reason for his killings.

Jeff had a moment of peace outside, his hoodie shielding his body from the cool winds around him. Then, he saw an old '68 Dodge Charger pulled over on the side of the road, and when he caught sight of Keith Winchester at a nearby payphone, he knew killing him would get rid of the aches his body faced from Natalie's attack, and take Liu's seeming demise off his mind. The car's hood was up, and as he got closer, Jeff was able to catch a glimpse of Troy trying to fix the engine.

"Yeah, our car's broken down and it needs to be towed somewhere it can be worked on. Yeah, we're on-"

Keith suddenly felt the phone cord wrapped tightly around his neck, Jeffrey strangling the life out of the boy from behind. The chuckle that sounded out from behind signaled to Keith that somehow, someway, Jeffrey was out of that hospital.

"I can't decide, whether you should live or die~ Oh, you'll you'll probably go to heaven, please don't hang your head and cry~"

The cord tightened around his throat, as Jeff softly sang into his ear, he desperately tried calling out to Troy, but the boy was unable to.

"No wonder why my heart feels dead inside, it's cold and hard and petrified!~ Lock the doors and close the blinds, we're going for a ride~"

Winchester eventually grew limp in the killer's arms, so Woods dropped him to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey, Keith! I think it's the timing belt, it got fucked all the way up!"

No response.

"...Keith? You okay?"

A series of hard thumps running up the car was the eventual response he got. Before he could even scream, the stick holding the trunk up snapped as Jeff jumped on top, crushing Troy's hands inside with a sickening crunch, the bones in his hands shattering under the combined weight of the heavy hood as well as Jeff's full body weight. Troy yelled at the top of his lungs in pain, his horror only growing as he saw the mess that was his assailant's face. Woods squatted down so he could talk to the poor bully face to face.

"Hi, Troy! How are ya? Hey, quit screaming, I'm talking here."

When Troy didn't stop, Jeff shook his head in annoyance.

"Okay, how about we teach you some anatomy, huh? It takes about.."

His bandaged hand took hold of one of Troy's ears, ripping it clean off.

"15 PSI to rip off a human ear. The same applies for both, actually! Why Mike Tyson was able to bite his opponent's ear off so easily."

As he talked, he ripped off his victim's other ear, reaching into his mouth as he cried and then yanking out his tongue, throwing it aside with disgust.

"That was your tongue, won't be needing that anymore..now, for the teeth! Good God, your teeth are bad..they aren't usually piss yellow, lemme just.."

Two punches to the boy's mouth and a face slam onto the car's hood loosened one of his front teeth enough that Jeff was able to yank out one of his front teeth, the blood flying out of the stump Troy once called a tongue soddening Wood's bandages with even more blood, to the point where they were beginning to fall off his hand and reveal the burnt, pale skin underneath.

"There! Now, it takes about 1,000 to 1,250 pound-feet of torque, or force if you're a neanderthal, to break a human neck! Here, I'll show you!"

Jeff then slid his hands into position, finally ending Keith's misery by breaking his neck, killing him instantly.

"I think this surgery went pretty damn well!"

The killer hopped off the hood of the car and continued down the road, his mission becoming clear in his head. It wouldn't be long before the police caught up to him, so before they found him, he needed to hit one last place.

Ingrid groaned as she made her way downstairs, having decided to crash at Jane's place for a bit since she recently got thrown out of her house. She began rummaging through the freezer when she heard the wail of several police cruisers speeding past.

"What's with all the cops at this hour?"

She went to look out the window, but a hand soon clasped over her mouth, a knife quickly slitting her throat as well. As her blood dribbled from her throat, her attacker spun her around so he could look at her..look at the girl Jeff felt he was replaced by.

"You..You took my Janey away from me..and now, she'll die for her nerve, to leave me when she knew I had issues, and you'll die for daring to touch her!"

3 more strikes to the neck followed, Ingrid's head coming clean off and rolling along thee floor after the 3rd slash connected. Jeffrey took a look around the house Jane brought him to when they were together during one of the only meaningful relationships Jeffrey had. So many hateful, vile thoughts ran through his head as he grabbed a canister of gas from the garage and 2 chairs. He used the chairs to barricade Jane and her parents in their rooms, before pouring the gasoline around the house. Jeff then struck a match he found in a kitchen, walking outside and carelessly dropping the matchbox as he went. He gazed into the small flame for what felt like ages, all the memories he had with this house flashing before his eyes as he threw the match on the gasoline. An inferno quickly started, Woods turning around and walking away as his former lover's house burned. 3 police cars soon pulled up to the burning home, the officers seeing the blood-soaked perpetrator of the crime calmly walking down the driveway.

#creepypasta #jeffery woods #liu woods #jeff the killer #clockwork #sully #tw so much violent murder omg #i think i went overboard

[artblogofanekophile]

4, 5, and 10 for Persephone?

Asks for Persephone! Thank you once again for the ask, Gouds-sama! <3 My apologies for the long wait; your questions filled me with some writing inspiration, but then unfortunately I experienced a block. But don’t worry, I managed to get through it, finally! I hope you don’t mind the lengthy post, but given your affinity for lore, I think you can forgive me~

Without further ado…

4.) If they were in a haunted house, how would they react?

Persephone scoffed, “You think I’m scared of a rackety old shack?” Throwing her head back with a guffaw, she punctuated her incredulity by laughing behind her hand. With an abrupt end to her laughter, she straightened her back and placed both hands firmly on her hips, eyes trained on the Ramshackle dorm with a determined gaze.

“Easiest 20 madol I’m ever gonna make…” she gleefully mused, peering at Ace – the smug bastard waving his bribe enticingly. He could grin all he wanted; victory was going to be hers.

“Well? Go ahead.” He prompted, ignoring the ire of his dormmate’s pointed glare. How did Deuce always end up getting roped in with this guy and his crazy antics?

With a harumph and a steadfast pace, Persephone marched up the twisted path upon the hill leading up to the threshold of the dilapidated building. With each wade through the damp grass, she had to admit that the house’s silhouette, bathed in the blue moonlight, had something of an imposing air surrounding it. Perhaps it was the odd sense of emptiness – as though a nightly chill through one window could make the entire structure moan and shiver.

But that’s all it was, wasn’t it? Empty.

Setting her foot upon the first step leading onto the porch, she gave a faint ‘whoa´ as the wood beneath her wobbled under her uneven footing. Thankfully not enough for her to land on her face – not that Ace wasn’t snickering already, and Deuce wasn’t scolding him for it. It only served to steel her resolve to wipe that shit-eating grin off Trappola’s face!

Undeterred, Persephone soldiered on up the steps, narrowly avoided a collapsed plank, and made it all the way to the moss-adorned welcome mat – at least, she could only assume that was what the message read. Perhaps, ‘ABANDON HOPE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE’ would have been more apt for this place, though.

The milky light from the moon shone off the loosened oxidised doorknob. Curling her lip in disgust, Persephone rolled the cuff of her sleeve over her hand, using the fabric as a barrier between it and the likely diseased handle. She wasn’t sure how she would explain to Crowley why she needed a tetanus shot when she got back from this if she touched it with her bare hand.

Much to her surprise, her mental preparation to force the door open with her shoulder had proven unnecessary – the door creaked open without so much as a nudge, the rusty hinges wailing out. As the moonlight spilled into the house and stretched across the floor, Persephone’s shadow stood stark in the centre, an elongated facsimile of its vessel.

It wasn’t alone, however. The ghosts of the spiderweb cracks in the windows were drawn over the floor, surrounding the shadow like a helpless fly awaiting its imminent fate. The tattered hems of sheer chiffon curtains billowed in the nightly chill, their translucent forms like dancing ghosts...  

She shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts; the house was just as empty on the inside as it looked on the outside! The most she had to be concerned with was a dusty old settee attacking her.

As she ventured on farther into the house, her steps slow and light-footed, none-too-trusting of the floorboard’s integrity to bear the force of her normal gait, she spared a peek into each room and found herself falling into a sense of security. Her suspicions confirmed – the only organism that seemed to be a tenant in this derelict place seemed to be the thick coat of dust that covered everything, and the odd moth raiding the scraps of clothing hung up in wardrobes left behind by other, more advantageous insects.

She could at last breathe a sigh of relief. Ha! What a silly rumour! Why, this old shack was nothing more than just that! A grin spread across Persephone’s face as she relished in the mental image of utter disbelief that would colour both their faces as she strode out of this dusty old place with her head held high!

And then, she heard a low moan echo through the corridor. Her heart skipped a beat.

What was that!?

Quickly, she whipped around to try and trace the source of the bellowing noise, her feet seemingly frozen to the spot. Emerging from around the corner, she could see a cloud of a thin, white mist curl into a ghoulish hand, white with long, spindly fingers that clawed at the wood panelling – and then, at last, a face emerged. Pale as the moon, with sunken eyes and thin jowls, it had an emaciated appearance. Its eyes were a hollow blue, staring with quiet, unnerving bemusement at the look of utter disbelief on her face.

Persephone’s heartbeat was deafening in her own ears. Surely, for how hard she could feel its thumping echo against her ribcage, this spectre must have heard it, too. Its decrepit, cracked lips parted slowly, before uttering only one word that rang off the walls like a torrent wind.

“Boo.”

Persephone’s spine shot up with a shriek, hurriedly turning on her heel and bolting down the hall with no care for the rickety floorboards any longer.

As her terrified scream travelled out of the window and hit the two boys’ ears, Deuce tensed up with concern whilst Ace let out a cocky laugh.

“Well, well, well. Looks like someone got spooked.” Ace smirked.

“Hey, that isn’t funny! She sounded really scared…” With a wave of his hand, the redhead dismissed Deuce’s worry.

“She probably tripped over something or fell through a floorboard, she’ll be—” he was cut off by the sound of the door slamming open and Persephone bolting out of the house like her life depended on it, bounding towards the Heartslabyul students.

Ace blinked, “So, you owe me—”

“Let’sgolet’sgolet’sgolet’sgoLET’SGO!” Persephone snatched both of their hands and dragged them along without time for an explanation. Deuce’s protests for her to slow down were ignored. Sparing a quick glance behind their shoulders, both boys were greeted by the sight of the still grinning ghost peering its head out of the doorway and waving them off.

Riddle definitely couldn’t find out about this.

5.) If they went to jail, what crime would they have committed?

I’m not gonna lie, she probably would be in the slammer for chaining herself to a centuries old willow that was going to be cut down for the sake of making room for project development. Persephone isn’t really a violent person under ordinary circumstances unless she needs to defend herself, so I can’t see her going to jail for a violent crime or something along those lines… So yeah, just being a menace to capitalism for the sake of the environment. What a Queen.

10.) What are their thoughts on horror movies?

Persephone usually likes to make fun of the really cheesy ones and shout at the characters about how, of course they’re going to die if they go into the basement to investigate the weird noise, armed with nothing but a flashlight. Or how everybody knows you don’t run upstairs when the killer’s chasing you! That’s how you end up having to break your ankles by diving out of the window! Much like the little snippet would suggest, however, Persephone’s bravado can only get her so far, and if she’s watching a particularly gorey horror movie, you can often find her hiding her eyes behind her sleeves and grimacing at the excessive sound effects they added in post! 

#answered ask #persephone amaryllis #twst oc #twst oc ask #snippet #Neko sharing a piece of writing? Who ever heard of such a thing

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 5 Part 5

Hello, and once again, I come before you with another piece of Midnight Striga!! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

“U-Um, Luz? Do you… know these guys?” Willow nervously asked, flinching away from the chuckling group surrounding them. Amity was confused, but wary, while Gus was torn between fanboying over the humans and panicking. Several were brandishing weapons and tools, while others were gesturing with faintly glowing hands.

“Unfortunately.” Luz growled, hands pressed together to cast. “Let’s just say that they’re a problem from back home.”

The largest figure, still cloaked, chuckled at that. “Oh Blinder, you always did say the sweetest things.” They hissed out. They flicked off their cloak, the sight underneath sending the Witchlings reeling back, Luz’s eyes narrowing in hate. 

The man was tall, Six feet and several inches easily, a rippling hulk of muscle. What was most eye-catching, and more than a little horrifying, was the state of his body; the tones and types of his skin were different shades, held together by stitches, screaming faces sewn into the body, contorted in agony. Extra limbs were attached haphazardly across the body, with the ‘arms’ in particular actually being multiple arms and hands forcibly bonded together. The head was misshapen, the jaw awkwardly bulging on one side, the pupils of his eyes slit, screws jammed into the scalp with blood leaking from the puncture sights. The cheeks were torn, crudely sewn back in place. The man opened his mouth, a skinless serpent slithering out in place of a tongue.

“You were rather naughty, Blinder, running away from your brothers and sisters as you did.” The snake hissed, acting as the brute’s voice. The figure blinked, before clapping it’s patchwork limbs together. “Ah, where are my manners!? I haven’t introduced myself.” A deep rumbling chuckle echoed from him, setting the Witchlings’ nerves on edge. He bowed slightly, a mocking leer across his face. “Reticulus Creeve, at your service. I look forward to integrating your remains into my masterpiece.” He said, gesturing to the patchwork monstrosity that acted as his body.

His faux-pleasant expression fell, and he turned to his troops. “Kill all but the human, she is to be captured. Afterwards, you are to raze this location to the ground and kill every being you come across not affiliated with Oroboros.” He said in a disinterested tone, before jumping into the rafters above, cackling in the twisted, hissing voice.

“Tch, bastard’s still underestimating me.” Luz bitterly muttered. She turned to the chuckling troops before her; none of them looked like anything other than goons, random thugs who had been brought in to pad the numbers. Still, if they were part of the Black Dog Squad, then they were more than willing to commit the atrocities Reticulus had ordered. “Well,” Luz sighed, “at least you guys will be a good warm up.”

“Luz?” Amity questioned, her eyes widening at the light building in Luz’s palm.

“Light-Make: Wolf Pack!” She shouted, her constructs pouncing on the Black Dog agents surrounding them. With savaging jaws, they lunged for their prey… only to be turned back when one agent stepped forward.

“Air Rot!” He shouted, a black haze emitting from his palm, the wolf constructs crumbling on contact. Turning to them with an ugly smirk, the agent reared back his fist. “Palm Rot Pulse!” A bullet of compressed miasma rushed the group, only to be intercepted by Amity’s abomination. Acting on the agents’ brief confusion at their resistance, Willow summoned her vines, slamming them into the circle of agents and sending them back.

Willow turned her eyes towards the others. “Run!” With that, the group bolted, ignoring the curses and shouts from behind them. Screaming started sounding all around them, figures wearing the same uniforms as the agents who had surrounded them attacking the Covention goers. “Look out!” Willow shouted, summoning her plants to block a bolt of flame launched their way.

“Shit!” Luz bit out. “Light-Make: Spears!” In a flash, a dozen spears ripped through the air, impaling an agent standing over the cooling corpses of a pair of Covention goers, a man and his wife from the looks of it.

“Bolt Zone!” “Hail Shot!”

Eyes widening, Luz shoved the others away, a scream ripping through her throat as lightning slammed into her from above, and a chunk of ice crashed against her back, sending her flying.

“Luz!” Willow yelled, only to scream in pain herself as a bolt of flame slammed into her back. Turning, she just barely caught sight of Amity sending her Abomination after her attacker, she could barely see through the pain. Growling, Amity directed her Abomination to defend them, splitting its arms to intercept as many of the strange spells flying their way as it could, its amorphous body acting as an excellent barrier against attacks.

Luz flipped herself onto her feet, a spell already forming. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she called out. “Light-Make: Daggers!” A pair of blades formed, and she launched them, a grim smirk forming as they found their mark between the eyes of the agents who had attacked her. Dropping to a crouch, she spun, spells already forming. “Light-Make: Halberd!” She swung the massive, bladed polearm she now bore, catching two more agents by the ribs, the way the first folded around the blade indicating she had severed his spine, or at least chopped deep into it. Turning to the others, their jaws dropped at the sight of her actions, Luz’s eyes widened at what she saw. With a shout she leapt into the air, aiming for Amity.

Amity’s eyes widened. Was Luz going to attack her!? What was even happening!! The Covention was being attacked, that… thing from before somehow knew Luz and wanted to capture her and kill the rest of them, and all the invaders, and Luz herself, were wielding magic completely unlike anything within the Coven System! As Luz descended, Amity braced herself and her Abomination, only to relax as she saw Luz’s trajectory would take her roughly behind Amity… behind her!? Whirling around, Amity just barely caught sight of the maliciously grinning figure, arm reared back with a knife in hand, before Luz drove a glittering sword through the top of their skull. “Oh, so that’s what you were doing.” She muttered numbly, flushing at Luz’s raised eyebrow.

“Phew! Looks like we’ve got some breathing room!” Luz sighed, relieved at the break. She opened her eyes to find the group huddled close to her face, staring. “Uh, you guys mind backing up a little?”

“How did that sewn-up pile of parts know you!” Amity demanded.

“What is going on?” Willow asked in a calmer tone of voice.

“Since when are humans super scary!?” Gus begged to know, near hysterical.

Luz frantically pushed them back. “WHOA WHOA!! Guys, give me a little room!” After they backed off, Luz sighed. “In reverse order, humans have always been scary, we just usually aren’t, these guys are here to kill everyone to send a message to the leaders of the isles, and to make a very long, painful story short, I used to work for them until I decided I’d had enough and left.” Luz bluntly summarized. The group was shell-shocked, which Luz figured was fair; she just did drop a massive bomb on them after all.

“Wait a minute, kill everyone here?” Amity demanded. “That’s impossible, the Emperor’s Coven has guards stationed everywhere at events like this!” She insisted. Sure, those humans had displayed magic unlike anything native to the Isles that she was aware of, but they had just caught them by surprise!

Luz’s eyebrows rose into her hair. “Well they haven’t been much of a deterrent.” She stated, gesturing to a nearby corpse. As the others peered closer, they pulled back as if burned; it was the mangled corpse of a Coven Guard, one melted away, chest ripped open, and head crushed against the ground. After gazing upon the dead guard, the Witchlings’ eyes were drawn to the area around them, horror dawning upon their faces; dead Witches and demons, everywhere. A woman and her child, ripped open by what looked like giant claws. A man cowering in a corner, his flesh melted from his bones. And many, many more.

“Why?” Willow croaked out, tears in her eyes. “Why are they doing this?”

Luz stared, eyes filled with sorrow and weariness. “Like I said, they’re here to kill everyone. Them,” she gestured to the corpses, “You,” She pointed at the three, “Me,” she aimed her thumb at herself, “everyone.” She finished with a shrug.

Amity perked up at that, puzzled. “Wait a minute, that… thing from before said to take you alive. Why would they be trying to kill you?” She asked.

Luz snorted. “Yeah, he said that. That doesn’t mean anyone would listen.” She sighed. “These guys are the Black Dog Squad, the absolute worst of the worst in Oroboros, in terms of morals and self-control at least. All of them are rapists, sadists, and murderers of the highest order. They weren’t chosen for this mission because they’re powerful, even though some of them very much are, but because they are vicious and will do anything without regret or remorse.” She turned hard eyes on them. “Reticulus is a sadist and a bully, most of these people are. If he gave the order instead of capturing me himself, it means I’m not a priority. If one of them catches me, great! I’m caught and the poor sap who thought it would get him a payday becomes a volunteer for Retic’s experiments. If they don’t, then they all die, or I’m dead, along with everyone else.”

“Speaking of that, just what was up with his body!?” Gus hysterically exclaimed. “If everything you told me about human anatomy is true, not that I doubt you, then how is he even alive!?” He shouted, pulling at his hair in fright.

“He uses Flesh Sculpt, a form of magic that allows the wielder to alter and mold flesh and living material however they wish.” Luz explained gravely. “Retic took that and ran with it, harvesting body parts from victims on a murderous rampage to build himself the ideal form; nobody knows how much of his original body is in that thing, not even him at this point, and he’s ALWAYS looking to add to it.”

Amity paled. “So, wait, when he said about integrating our remains…” She trailed off, the three turning green at the thought.

“Yup.” Luz said flatly, her face just as green at the thought as theirs. “Guys a real sicko.” She pulled herself to her feet. “And I’ve got to go stop him.” She said grimly.

“””What!?””” The three exclaimed.

“As long as these guys are here, everyone is in danger. I’ll go after Reticulus and his goons, try and slow them down, and you all get as many of the civilians to safety as you can.” She said firmly, jaw set.

“Absolutely not!” Amity shouted. “Did you not see the size of that monstrosity?!? If you go after him, strange magic or no, you will be dead!”

“And that’s a price I’m willing to pay.” Luz said coldly. “As long as Oroboros has a foothold in the Isles, no one is safe. If dying is the price so that this place can live, I’ll gladly pay it.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for you to sacrifice yourself, and not let us help?” Amity snapped. She leaned in, grabbing hold of Luz’s collar. “In case you’ve forgotten, these Isles are our home. We have a right to defend ourselves. It doesn’t matter what you say, I can’t speak for them,” she glances at Gus and Willow, before turning back, “But I refuse to run away and let someone else fight when I can do something.”

“And the same goes for me.” Willow said firmly, drawing surprised looks from the others. “I’ve been letting myself get pushed around for years, never speaking up or trying to change things. But Luz, you helped give me the courage to try and change things! Now that I can, I’m not just going to let people get hurt.”

Gus stepped forward, throwing his hat into the ring. “I don’t really have as many selfless bones as Willow, but she’s my friend. If she’s staying to fight, then I’m gonna help.”

Luz glanced around, recognizing the stubborn intensity in their eyes. She groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “Ugh, fine. You all can help.” She glanced up as they cheered. “But promise me, if things get dicey, you’ll run, and help as many people you come across to run as well, okay?” At the round of hesitant nods she received, Luz reciprocated. “Okay, let’s go!” And with that, the group turned on their heels, marching towards the chaos, the screams of the dying and the afraid ringing in their ears.

Skara shuddered, nervously backing away from the strange man in front of her. The strange man who had just killed a COVEN GUARD RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER AND HER FRIENDS!!!! She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. “Now, now, you shouldn’t do anything hasty!! You’re going to be in a lot of trouble for that, you know? When more Guards come, they aren’t going to ask you nicely now, right?” She hated the way her voice quivered, the way it kept doing when she had been afflicted by that jewel, when she tried to reason with her.

“Freeehehehehehe!! Moooorre Guards? Mooooorre bodies to play with!?” The strange man drawled, the cloak obscuring his body jiggling oddly. “Ooooooohhhhh I bet they’ll taste so yummy!! Soooooo much meat!! Yuuuuuummmmyyyy meat!! Freeehehehehehehehe!!! Iiiiiiii had better get changed then! Doooooonnnn’tttt want to ruin my cloak with food stains.” With that said, the figure tossed his cloak into the air, multiple other cloaks following suite throughout the crowd. The figure… was horrific. The body was horribly misshapen, the sheer amount of fat present should’ve had the figure at least twice as wide as they currently were. Skara stared in disgusted fascination at the oily sheen to his body, the way his flesh rippled and rolled with every movement, as if his entire body was gelatin held in a man-shaped skin. Pitch-black eyes set deep into a face that was just as fluid and gelatinous as his body, an uncomfortably wide and toothy mouth set into a perpetual smile (Skara hoped it was supposed to be a smile), and his nose was essentially gone, a ring of distinctly teeth shaped markings surrounding the missing chunk.

“Freeeeehehehehehehe!! Moooorrreee guards! Mooooorrreee meat!!” The distorted lump of fat squealed, eyes focused on Skara. “Ooooohhhh it will be so tasty!! Buuuutttt… What's even tastier than the men I kill, are the kids I kill. Aaaaaannnndddd what’s even tastier than the kids I kill…” He leaned in closer, the rotting scent of corpses wafting off his breath. “Are the pretty, pretty girls I kill.” Without another word, the slob lunged forth, jaw stretching open a mind-bogglingly large six feet, ready to swallow Skara whole in a single gulp. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t-

“Move it!!” “Demon King’s Rocking Roar!!”

Two things happened in that instant before Skara became the grotesque people-eater’s meal; first, Boscha, who had come out of nowhere, had shoved her clear of the kill zone, and some kind of magic was pinning the fat glob in place. At the sight of his body depressing into the ground, so tightly Skara could see bones against his skin, she figured her guess about him being mostly fat was closer to the truth than she’d thought. Suddenly, Skara became painfully aware of the panicked, screaming crowd around her. Boscha turned a burning glare Skara’s way; she suddenly felt very, very small.

Boscha jerked her head towards the group of their, or, rather, Skara’s friends. “Get her out of here.” She bit out. Skara’s heart sank even further at the cold tone. There… really was nothing left between them, was there. She didn’t protest as Cat and Amelia dragged her on, as the crowds roared and screamed as they tried to pry the doors open, people dropping to the ground as the strange figures who had come in cloaks picked them off. What was the point in saving a useless life like hers? No point at all.

“King, let him up.” She said, voice cold as winter ice. King mutely complied, getting clear of Boscha’s attack range. This was going to be ugly. “Hey! Fatso!” She called out, prompting the figure to pop up from the ground, that damn smile still stretched across his face.

“OOoooohhhh you know our name!?” He cheerfully giggled in that disgusting voice of his. “Hooooowwww strange! Weeee didn’t think we’d told you yet.”

“Wait, Fatso is your actual name? I was just trying to insult you!” Boscha exclaimed, briefly distracted by the odd being in front of her. She quickly shook her head, clearing it of confusion as best she could. “Wait a minute, that’s not important!” She shouted. “What is important is that you just tried to eat someone, and murdered a Coven Guard!! Just what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Still giggling, the man, Fatso apparently, refused to answer, instead lunging forward with that freakishly large jaw of his. Biting back a curse, Boscha leapt back, barely clearing the now missing chunk of stone that the fat freak had ripped out of the ground, swallowing it whole. “Ooooohhhhh, nice and earthy, like yummy veggies!” He cried, lunging again. “Yooooouuuurrrr yummy meat will make a nice addition to this meal!!” He squealed, fleshy limbs lashing out, trying to pull Boscha to his waiting maw.

“Like fuck!” Boscha shouted, flames bursting into her hands. “Try and eat this, you psycho!” She hurled the flames forth, grimly expecting screams of pain to howl forth; what she wasn’t expecting was for the maniac to actually eat her flames!!! “WHAT!?!?”

“YYYUuuuuuummmmyyy, spicy flames!!” Fatso giggled, cheerfully gulping down Boscha’s attack. His eyes honed in on Boscha again. “Gggiiiiivvveee me more!!!!” He screamed, leaping towards her, jaw expanding to chomp down.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #king the owl house #boscha the owl house #luz noceda #willow park #gus porter #skara the owl house #amity blight #magic

[stetervault]

Hello! Do you do rec lists? Would you be willing rec some Steter fics that aren't the most common/popular ones? If not, no worries!

Technically this isn’t a rec-finding blog lol but I do make rec lists sometimes if someone asks and I have the time and I feel like it. Here are some (I think?) less known Steter fics, oldies that people may have missed or forgotten (Idk how well I succeeded, I just picked a bunch that have significantly less reads/bookmarks than the really big fics):

Fear (Doesn't Mean I Can't Fight) by azerblazer

Peter is the damsel in distress, the Sheriff is the hostage, random unnamed hunters are the bad guys.

Stiles has a bat, a hoodie and a willingness to do anything to protect those he's loyal to.

Bring it on.

A Lean and Hungry Look by kototyph

The woods aren't the only place you find wolves.

You're Mine, Valentine by orphan_account

In which Peter decides to court Stiles, and does so by leaving him hearts.

Bloody ones.

Zodiac by Green

"You know, Taurus and Libra make a good match," Peter says with a sly smile.

Stiles looks away. "Yeah. I looked that up, too."

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

He Is A Villain By The Devil's Law by neglectedtuesday

Stiles’ lungs are burning, blood is pumping through his veins and he’s pretty sure that if he stops running then he’ll just keel over into the gutter. But God does he feel alive. The sirens are wailing, loud and clear. Just one more block. One more block. Stiles ducks down an alleyway, the bag full of bank notes swinging behind him. It hits his side with a dull thud. The alley smells like cat pee and yesterdays trash so Stiles breathes shallowly through his mouth. He continues walking down it until he reaches the end. It opens out onto the street. He stops just shy of the exit, waiting. He waits a bit more. Then he kicks a can lying idle on the ground. He whips out his burner phone, punching in a number.

“Where the fuck are you?” Stiles growls, “Where’s my goddamn getaway car?”

“Change of plans Stilinski, you’re gonna have to get away on your own. Also ditch the phone.”

Fascinated by lemonstiles, migratoryslashfan

Stiles pontificates over Peter's naked body.

Night-blooming Flowers by imriebelow

Peter always gets what he wants. Stiles learns to live with it.

None of These Things (Are Happening) by Horribibble

After years away, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills just in time to put Isaac's insides back where they belong.

It's cute how people think he's trustworthy.

-

Peter can smell the violence inside him, the urge to do something grand and possibly cataclysmic. It’s there—mixed with a balance and natural calm, but in the undercurrent, it’s there. He has seen things beyond the scope of Beacon Hills’ petty horror show. He has learned things.

The Terrible Things We Do (For Love) by rospeaks

Being a demon, he’s seen some of the pretty nasty things that humans are willing to do for love. Things that, were he still alive (and human), would make him hesitate to be in a relationship with anyone lest his partner start getting some funny ideas. That said—

"This seems a little desperate for a kid your age," he says to Stiles.

Spin, Sweet Clotho by ChuckleVoodoos

Oh, it’s a beautiful thing to watch, the way they dance around each other, spun in sugar and glittering glass. Like a fragile little fairytale, a tender rosebud just waiting to unfurl. It makes Peter sick.

Because love is a fairytale, and his dear darling nephew does not deserve a happy ending.

whisper by tricksterity

Stiles was tired.

He was done of people pushing him and his pack around. They’d already lost so much and he was damned if he’d let them lose anyone else, especially to this psychopath who had no reasons for what he did other than he liked it.

And that’s when the whispers in his mind grew louder.

Remember Darling, All the While by Sang_argente

It was fire, ice, electricity. It was the first kiss, the last kiss, and every kiss inbetween. It was lips parting, tongues sliding, hearts beating.

Impress Me by ToAStranger

Their new English teacher has gone missing.

Falling Upward by moonstalker24

There is nothing quite like flying. There is a calm and a peace found in the sky that cannot be found on earth. All the chaos of the world is below you and there is no sound save that which the propeller makes as the engine turns it. You are free and unfettered and the clouds are close enough to touch; all you need do is stretch out your hand to grasp them.

Stiles takes Peter flying after he gets out of Eichen House.

Sweeter Than Gingerbread by taylorpotato (Stetallison)

The saying goes that lovers who commit suicide together start their next life as twins. Perhaps that's why Stiles and Ally feel the way they do about each other.

The Shadow Effect by Mysenia

What was the fun in being a twin if you couldn't trick a person or two?

Deep under by Sashaya

There's a reason Stiles knows so much about drowning. He'd rather not remember why...

All the World's a Stage (but the light design is subpar) by BonesOfBirdWings

Peter Hale is a successful Off-Broadway actor, and Stiles is a stage lighter who literally falls into his life.

Peter smiled at him. "Thank you, Stiles. But should I take this to mean that you don't want a meatball sandwich from Banh Mi Saigon?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "You - I - Yes, I want! Oh my god, you do the best apologies! Can you piss me off more, please? I accept all future apologies enthusiastically!"

Peter chuckled. "I'm sure that won't be a problem, dear boy. I've been informed that I'm an asshole by a very reliable source."

Stiles beamed. "But you have good taste in food, so things balance out?" he ventured.

Peter threw back his head and laughed. Stiles' grin brightened in answer.

The D.C. Backroom Deal by septima_sum

Stiles is a regular prostitute with moderate life goals – until his current client makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

Hold Me Down by sneksonaplane

Waking up in Peter Hale’s bed was weird. Waking up in Peter Hale’s body was even weirder. Stiles had been disoriented and confused when he’d found himself in a plush, king sized bed in an unfamiliar bedroom instead of in his own room (and seriously, why did Peter even need a king sized bed? Why would anyone need a bed that big?) It had all come back to him when he’d glimpsed the body he was inhabiting, one that was shorter but more defined than his own, and older, and kind of hot.

OR

The one where Stiles and Peter swap bodies, Peter relives his adolescence, Stiles suffers, and then suffers a little less when he discovers Peter's fetlife profile where he's listed as a submissive seeking a daddy.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night by Guede

This is a ghost story. It’s not straightforward.

Put My Faith in Something Unknown by Twisted_Mind

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, suspended between thought and action, unable to feel. At some point, he becomes aware that there’s a hand on his face. A warm palm cradles his jaw, and a thumb brushes across his cheekbone tenderly.

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

Enemy Action by pprfaith

Once is chance, twice is coincidence and three times is far too many bodies on the ground.

Buy Me a New Pair by Julibean19

"I don't practice law much these days."

"And why is that?" Stiles asked, wondering why a handsome and presumably successful lawyer wouldn't want to continue working.

"I've been drawn away by more pleasurable pursuits," Peter said, lips quirked upward as he spoke.

Tale as Old as Time by wynnebat

The one in which Lydia's got better things to do than be Belle, Stiles is a much more likeable Gaston, and Peter is a beast but not quite beastly.

The clothes make the man by FeelingsDusk

The trick to sneaking into a building where you shouldn’t be is to make it seem to all eyes like you should. Stiles has been doing this since he was a little older than toddler and he wanted to get back his Batman action figure from the evidence room in his dad’s Police Station.

(Spolier alert: just like back then, Stiles gets caught.)

Smile Like You Mean It by NinaRooxx

After sulking about the changing weather over the autumn, Stiles notices that despite the weather getting colder, Peter’s wardrobe isn’t changing at all.

Swing by ShippersList

Stiles wants to fly.

Angels, Devils, and Peter by Triangulum

Everyone has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. They give advice, help guide their human through life. They tempt, they listen, they offer help. Everyone has one of each. Everyone except for Stiles.

OR

Stiles and Peter are murder husbands.

love and madness by sinequanon

Peter and Stiles haven’t seen each other in months when the alphas ask them to meet up to look over an abandoned house. Now, they’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for quite a while to come.

Not This Again by RebaK1tten

There's a rumor that the last episode of the show will have Peter getting killed, again. Perhaps to give him a redemption arc or something.

A Light at the (Near) End of the World by ladyoneill

The world he grew up in has ended in a supernatural war that devastated the human population. A survivor, Stiles lives a solitary, quiet life in Wales until there's a knock on his door.

Through Space and Time by MaroonDragon

When Stiles pulls the body of Peter Hale into his ship, he doesn't expect him to be alive. He also doesn't realise he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

His Color by SushiOwl

“Darling, have you been carrying a throw-away comment I made in your mind for almost four months?”

Stiles’s face felt like it was one with fire now.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

Looking After You by Slayer_of_Destiny

Can Peter be a chance for Stiles, can Stiles be a second chance for Peter? When Peter offers Stiles a relationship will the younger man take the chance with the werewolf?

Maybe We Both Are by lavenderlotion

The first time Stiles lets his fingers brush against Peter he wasn’t expecting the response he got. They were sitting on Stiles bed researching something. Or, they were researching. Now they were just talking. They did that a lot these days, just talked. They also ate together a lot. Or got coffee.

these words bear my scars (paint your love on my skin) by WindyRein

One day butterflies and childish codes change to I'm sorry you're meant for a murderer and he won't realize for years how much that changed his life.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

The Lady of Lightning by kiranightshade

"Those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside"

Can You Use Lube For That? by AlreadyBoss

“You think your what is haunted now?” Surely he'd misheard. There was no way-

“My vibrator,” Stiles answered with alarming sincerity.

Well. He hadn't misheard after all.

Pianist Envy by Bunnywest

Stiles is the piano player.Peter can think of other things he'd like to see those hands do.Shame the guy's straight.

Everything You Deserve by Areiton

You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott.

Home by Ragga

Don't be like him, they would say, and then add, or else you get burned.

Unable to bear the whispers any longer, This One left. He forsook those who forsook him, left him bear his scars alone, the scars he bore for his herd. It was better to be alone, stay off the currents, than swim with those most undeserving of his loyalty. So mote it be.

That is, until he met That One.

Lord Peter by Therapeutic_Steter

Peter rung out the rag before gently placing it on his mother’s head, reaching over to feel his father’s equally flushed features.

“Such a good boy,” his mother said, patting his arm with what little strength she had remaining. His father smiled softly at him even as his fell unconscious. Peter pushed back the lump in his throat, smiling shakily for his mother before venturing out into the living space.

knit me together by nezstorm

Peter asks Stiles to stay the night after a really awful day.

Warriors by CinnamonLily

Peter is ten years old when humans discover Azure, a planet not unlike Earth. From there on, he wants to learn everything about their new neighbors and the planet itself. It takes him over twenty years to get to Azure, but when he does, it's so worth it. His anthropologist heart is happy, and a new acquaintance in the form of an Azurian called Stiles might just make the rest of him happy, too.

#teen wolf #steter #rec list #fanfic rec #ask #anonymous

[close-to-levi-heichou-sir]

Levi Ackerman’s Anchor Chapter 3

When Isabelle heard the sound of something banging on one of the windows, she immediately woke up fearing the worst. Captain Levi was already awake and the girl realized her head was resting on his shoulder. Did she fall asleep like this?

Isabelle instantly pulled away from him. He was a mere stranger after all. She couldn't remember how the night had ended. The girl looked at him - the expression on Levi's face didn't change - he seemed annoyed. Did he always look so desperately bored with everything?

His attention was focused on the three scouts who were banging on the window, waving at him and yelling his name with excitement. One of them was a girl with short light brown hair. She was blushing.

"Captain, I can't believe we found you," she screamed. "We though you were dead!"

Levi snorted, "Tcch, I honestly wish I were dead right now. It took you almost a day to find me?"

All three of the scouts suddenly froze and pointed their eyes at the ground. They looked embarrassed as if they were some students scolded by their teacher.

"Petra," said Levi, breaking the silence, "Where are the titans?"

The girl's face turned all red. She was looking straight at him and Isabelle could tell she was extremely frightened.

"About that, captain," Petra mumbled. "We saw that a lot of them were gathered around this house, so while trying to clear out the street some heavy objects blocked your way out. We need several hours to clean the mess..."

The captain raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "And I can't get out through one of the windows?"

Isabelle instantly jumped, "Oh, hell no! Your leg is going to rip open. You'll either bleed to death or have a terrible infection."

"I am starting to dislike you a lot", he hissed at her. "Very well then, you heard Mrs Know-It-All. I guess I'll have to die of boredom here."

Petra and the scouts nodded. Isabelle looked at the girl. Her lips were pressed together in a firm line. She seemed... jealous. But why? Isabelle didn't even know Levi up until several hours ago. Why did this unknown girl look so angry? Was she his girlfriend?

"So, um... did you sleep well?" asked Isabelle. She was trying to break the awkward silence. They had such an amazing chat last night. What had happened? Was it because she had fallen asleep on his shoulder?

"I don't sleep much. You, on the other hand, snore like a dying animal. And my back is all stiff from not moving all night long," he sighed.

Isabelle shook her head in disbelief.

"First of all, I don't snore! And secondly, why didn't you move all night long? Do you have another injury I don't know about?!"

A smirk showed on Levi's face.

"I didn't want to wake you up. You were sleeping so peacefully on me."

The girl blushed. Apparently she had been more tired last night than she had realized. She must have fallen asleep amidst their conversation. Is that why he seemed so annoyed?

"You should've just woken me up. I am not a little girl," she exclaimed.

"It actually felt nice," he smiled.

His blue eyes were staring at her as if he was enjoying her presence.

Isabelle felt uncomfortable. There was no denying that this was the captain Levi Ackerman himself. And yet, she had never considered herself beautiful. She felt embarrassed that someone so perfect might look at her and find her attractive. But did he actually come to like her or was this all just Isabelle's imagination? Maybe deep down she herself wished he might like her.

Maybe she was starting to like him...

"You know," he began, "Even though you are an annoying brat sometimes, your house is spotless. I like that."

Isabelle laughed, "Yeah, I kinda have an obsession with everything being clean at all times."

"Hah," he exclaimed in delight, "Me, too."

________________________________________________________________________________

Hours had passed since they last saw Petra and the other scouts.

Levi and Isabelle were quietly drinking tea in the kitchen when they heard the girl's voice, " Captain! It's all clear! You can finally come out now."

Isabelle glanced at the captain. She was surprised to see that he looked disappointed. It seems he was enjoying the peace and quiet. Maybe that's what he really needed after all. A break from all the death and horror.

"Well, uhm," he began, "I guess this is where we part our ways. Thank you for... Well, saving my life. Few people would have done it in your place."

Isabelle suddenly felt extreme sadness embracing her. She was left alone again, since there was no trace of her parents. It had been days. Her hopes were everything but high at this point.

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'm sure anyone would do it," she smiled with a bit of sorrow in her eyes. "I'd do it again if I must. It was nice meeting you. Good luck with... well, everything."

Levi nodded and turned around following his squad. He had seen the sadness in her eyes. The captain hated weakness. He despised when people's happiness depended on him, because he never really committed to anyone. All he was ever dedicated to was... well, killing titans.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel... weird. Was it sadness? It felt more like melancholy - as if all of a sudden he remembered a place that was dear to him, close to the heart, safe. As if he remembered a face he hadn't seen in a long time, yet brought comfort and made him feel secure.

Every step away from Isabelle felt hard and heavy to make.

"Isabelle, wait," she heard him say.

Levi turned around and rushed towards her, "I honestly don't know what I'm doing."

She looked at him with a confused expression on her face.

"I, ugh," he began. Apparently, I happen to like your annoying and obsessive cleaning personality, but I'm so bad at this that-

"You what?" she asked him still looking quite perplexed.

"Just be safe, okay?" he signed and started walking away from her again.

"I... will..." she signed in response. I happen to like your constantly bored and annoyed face.

________________________________________________________________________________

Three months had passed since Isabelle last saw captain Levi and quite frankly she had almost forgotten about him. What was mostly concerning her was the fact that her parents were missing and were probably long gone.

People were gathering in the center of the Shiganshina district. The stationary troops had called every citizen out in order to inform them about the casualties in the past several months.

Isabelle was standing in the middle of the square, surrounded by people. For the first time ever she almost felt something different from alone. She saw how several scouts joined the troops at the tribune. Among them was captain Levi, but he didn't see her.

Isabelle felt piercing pain in her stomach once she saw him - was that... butterflies? A member of the stationary troops started reading a list of all the deceased they had found. Among the names were unfortunately the ones of her parents.

She put her hand on her mouth and fell onto her knees. Isabelle couldn't believe what she was hearing. Suddenly a loud roar was heard from the south which caused a great commotion around her. People started screaming and running. They were pushing her, but she couldn't move.

Apparently, a titan had made a small breach in the wall and was now advancing with several of its friends towards the town square. People were absolutely freaked out. Scouts and troops were trying to control the situation, but everything had turned into chaos.

Rain started pouring down Isabelle's face. She couldn't see, hear, nor feel anything but pain. She felt as dead as a living person could possibly feel. Nothing mattered. The titans were approaching her.

"ISABELLE," she heard someone shout her name.

The girl felt two hands grab her shoulders. They started shaking her whole body.

"ISABELLE, LISTEN TO ME," she heard the voice again. "I NEED TO GET YOU OUT OF HERE!"

It was Levi. He had heard the names of her parents (Isabelle told him about them during that first night) and immediately started looking for her in the crowd. He quickly found her and didn't took his eyes off of her until the titans appeared.

"They're gone, Levi, there's no point," she cried, but he shook her even harder.

"DON'T BE STUPID, JUST GRAB MY HAND, LET'S GO!" he yelled again, but she didn't move. "Alright then, you little brat, I'm sick of you."

Levi grabbed her by the waist and used his ODM gear to fly away from the square. He quickly took her to a big abandoned building nearby where scouts were gathering and left her there.

"You look after her, you hear me? She isn't herself right now!" he shouted at the scouts and a girl instantly grabbed Isabelle by the hand and led her to a nearby chair.

Eren, Armin and Mikasa nodded.

"I'll make sure she's okay," said Eren.

Levi ran to Isabelle and stood on one knee. He was panting, "Isabelle, live for me, okay? I forbid you to die!"

She suddenly woke up from the trance she had fallen into.

"Levi, please, don't leave me again. I'm all alone in this world," she cried.

"I'm here. I promise," he said and kissed her hand. "I'm right here."

#attack on titan #aot #the attack titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #hajime isayama #mikasa ackerman #ackerman #levi #levi heichou #heichou #levi ackerman #manga #fanfiction #fanfic #anime #eren jaeger

[letterboxd]

Writer’s Block.

Shirley director Josephine Decker talks to Ella Kemp about novelist Shirley Jackson’s aspirational qualities, Elisabeth Moss’s voice, and the Pixar film that changed everything for her.

Actor, director, writer and editor Josephine Decker has done for American cinema what Alice did for Wonderland. She burst onto the landscape and turned everything inside out, tunneling further into new worlds and disrupting the rules of everyone living there.

With four features to her name so far, Decker has fast become a leading voice in independent American cinema. There was the psychological thriller Butter on the Latch (2013), the erotic fever dream Thou Wast Mild And Lovely (2014), and the hurricane of a coming-of-ager, Madeline’s Madeline (2018). Now with Shirley, Decker turns to the biopic—but this is no paint-by-numbers adaptation of someone’s Wikipedia page. The script, written by Sarah Gubbins (I Love Dick) is adapted from the novel by Susan Scarf Merrell. Some of Shirley is true, some not.

Shirley casts Elisabeth Moss as the eponymous horror author, Shirley Jackson, whose famously disturbing 1948 short story The Lottery caused a sensation when it was first published in the New Yorker. Michael Stuhlbarg appears alongside Moss as Jackson’s professor husband Stanley Edgar Hyman, with Odessa Young and Logan Lerman as Rose and Fred Nemser, academic newlyweds who come to stay in Shirley and Stanley’s gothic home for a spell, while Shirley is wrestling with how to write her (very real) second novel, Hangsaman.

These actors matter, as the first couple—the Hollywood household names—welcome the second pair—fresh-faced rising stars—into their dangerous orbit of wordy brilliance and ruthless scrutiny. The results, knotty, seductive and disorienting, are electric.

Produced by Christine Vachon and Martin Scorsese, Shirley carries hints of Decker’s background in performance art, particularly in Moss’s highly physical performance. Film nuts are still getting to grips with Decker’s singular style, but once you’re in, there’s no way of climbing back out. “Decker finds a way to embody the strange, insoluble, unnerving energy of Jackson’s prose in a film that fittingly always seems to be building to a catastrophic rupture,” writes Jake Cole.

“I am ready to declare her one of the best modern filmmakers,” writes Letterboxd member Brian Formo, while Vshefali praises how “Josephine Decker is able to paint a picture of the inside of a woman’s brain so beautifully”. It’s true: Decker is concerned with what makes us tick, but also how the mechanics of that ticking work when nobody’s looking, when everything else has moved on and all that you’re left with are your own loud thoughts.

If you’re based in the US, you can watch Shirley via our virtual screening room—we’re donating 100 percent of our proceeds to Firelight Media.

Elisabeth Moss as Shirley Jackson in ‘Shirley’.

In the adaptation from the novel, what key elements did you and Sarah Gubbins want to remain true in terms of Shirley Jackson’s story? Josephine Decker: We were just really interested in making sure these characters felt like full, rounded individuals. For Shirley and Rose, it was about how they met and entwined. We wanted to really feel their separateness and their togetherness. We spent the most time on how to allow you to really feel each of them deeply, because it’s a hard thing to have a dual-protagonist movie.

What was it about Shirley Jackson that attracted you to her? I came on after it was already scripted. The character is just so witty, and kind of cruel, and complicated and messy. I had loved Sarah’s work on I Love Dick, I thought that Kathryn Hahn’s performance was one of the great female performances of the last twenty years. She just writes such great characters, so it was exciting to be able to dive into the Shirley that she had created. Also, the real Shirley Jackson is such a complicated and fascinating person—I was and am obsessed with her writing. She does in writing a thing that I’m trying to do in cinema, so it was exciting to get to know her work that well.

What things in her work would you like to emulate? You fall from a real place into an imaginary place without really realising it. She’s very good at sliding you into the character’s mind. It’s a witchy thing that makes her writing feel really exciting, that I haven’t seen that much on screen. I feel like in American cinema there’s this clear line between reality and what’s in your mind, but I think with Shirley that line is very unclear. That’s something I love, that I really pursue in my work and get excited by.

I definitely felt that with Madeline’s Madeline as well, it all feels very slippery. Totally.

Shirley is the first feature you’ve directed from another person’s script. How was that experience? It took me a minute to get inside of the world. I’m generally pretty process-oriented, but this film was different. There’s usually a thing that happens as you’re writing, I find I’m writing as an excuse to get the words that are in my head out. So to come from words and try to see the images was a very different experience, but also really exciting. With Sarah’s writing, it was interesting how the space was so important, this house was such a major character in the film. Because it’s such a dialogue-driven script, I worked a lot with the actors in rehearsals. I guess maybe some directors would tell you what to do, and you would start, and you would do that, but I didn’t even realise that would have been an option, so I was like, “Well, we have to make the blocking together” because I was also really adamant that I didn’t want the dialogue to be static.

It was important to me to sculpt some of the dialogue scenes into movement scenes. It was fun to find the dance of the film and allow the actors to choose their own way through the dialogue. They’re all such geniuses. When we would do rehearsals with Lizzie and Michael, it was so fast, they’re so good at working things out themselves. It was just exciting to let them find their own space and then obviously weigh in when I felt like an outside eye was helpful. I feel like a lot of what I’m realising as a director is if you choose the right collaborators, it’s just about getting out of the way!

How would you describe the relationship between Shirley and Rose? It feels thorny—it reminded me of Phantom Thread in terms of the toxicity. Generally, Shirley’s own work is about these two female characters who are really different—one is a dark, misanthropic genius, but angry, and the other one is a very light-hearted open spirit who is generous and good at baking and making men happy. I think in her biography there was this idea that these two kinds of women were different aspects of Shirley’s own mind, that she was like both of them. So it was about how different Shirley and Rose are at the beginning, and then that their coming together is such a collision, but then they discover they have a lot to learn from each other and they’re more similar than they realized.

It was about making sure we could understand their motivations. Especially Rose—she could have been a lighter, less-complex character, but I think I felt really committed, and Odessa did an incredible job, to make her a really full human with her own aspirations. And in the novel too, she has her own world going on. So it’s about making sure her goals are still clear, and then that by the end of the film maybe she has new goals, or maybe she realizes that everything she’d been tidying up her life to get in order—get a husband, have a baby—are maybe a little bit at odds with the deeper thing she’s searching for. But they are really slippery characters.

Josephine Decker on the set used for the Jackson-Hyman house in ‘Shirley’.

You mentioned the importance of the house. I spoke to Kitty Green recently about The Assistant and you share the same composer, Tamar-kali, and sound designer, Leslie Shatz, on your films. Both scores are amazing; on Shirley I’m thinking of the cellos and the violins but then also the creaky floorboards in the sound design. How do you think music and sound help build this world? They’re huge tools. I always think sound design can really bring a new element, especially to a film like this where there’s a slide into a surreal realm, into the mind sometimes. So finding a sound that hints that the things you’re witnessing are a little unreal is exciting. Leslie did a lot of playing. He jokes that when we first met I told him to go to town, and then he just went to town and was like, “I hope I went to the right town!” We had a lot of fun. We tried to really use sounds that weren’t too electronic, stuff that felt like it could have been made with the sound effects that would have been available then. Sound is a huge storyteller, I think it’s more impactful than film. I also think Lizzie’s voice is a train that pushes you through the film, in that you understand where she is with the writing by how confident or how confused that voice is.

What was the first film that made you want to be a filmmaker? Monsters Inc., that one’s easy. I had a real revelation in college while watching it. I’d seen it before, it was my second time, but I just laughed like a little baby. I just have so much fun in these Pixar movies, my best friend in college was watching with me and I was giggling and sitting four feet from the television, and she was just like, “You really like this and I think you should do this and this would be a combination of everything you’ve been doing.” It was helpful to have a friend there to tell me that. I haven’t started making movies like that yet, but maybe someday. My next movie [The Sky Is Everywhere] is a YA film, so if I just keep going younger and younger…

Related content

A list of Shirley Jackson-related titles on Letterboxd.

Eve’s lists of films Written by Women and Directed by Women.

‘Shirley’ is available on Hulu and other streaming services now. With thanks to NEON.

#shirley jackson #josephine decker #madeline's madeline #female filmmaker #female director #directed by women #52 films #52 films by women #girls on tops tees #ella kemp #writers on film #novelist #new yorker #letterboxd

[margoshansons]

The Killing Kind (4/?)

Part Four: 

Summary: The night before her school trip to Europe, Y/N talks to Peter about her parents and his heroes. Then on the plane, Peter’s plan blows up in his face. 

Warnings: mild swearing, angst, and mild secondhand embarrassment. 

Notes: Thank you for all the love! Also, Tom is so cute in this gif. There’s a playlist now at this link! 

(Y/N) stared up at the low ceiling, wishing for the fifth time that night that she could fall asleep. May’s leather couch felt cold against her bare legs, the borrowed pajama shorts tightening around her waist, leaving elastic marks etched into the skin. 

She was grateful for May letting her stay the night, really she was, but there were a few times (Y/N) considered leaving just to head back to her own bed. 

Wherever that was now. 

She turned on her side as she contemplated her housing arrangments. She’d definitely have to get out of the City, that’s for sure. Maybe she could find an abandoned building near MJ’s apartment. But that would potentially lead to her Dad figuring out her friendship with the woman. 

As she continued to toss and turn she let out a frustrated sigh. 

Could her Dad not leave her alone for more than a year?

She was brought out of her frustrated thoughts by a crash coming from the front door. Leaning up, she readied one of her daggers in her hand, the blue light lighting up the dark living area. 

It disappeared when she saw who it was. 

“Peter?” (Y/N) asked, confused as to why he was coming back this late. 

His eyes opened wide, mouth falling at the sight of the student on his Aunt’s couch. “(Y/N), hey, uh, what are, what are you doing here? I thought you uh--I thought you went home.”

She chuckled at the boy’s nervousness, “I was having some family trouble, so May said I could stay over.”

“Oh,” The tension dropped from Peter’s shoulders, “Um, that sucks. I’m-I’m sorry about that.”

(Y/N) shrugged, ignoring the sigh that emanated from the sixteen-year-old. “It is what it is.”

Peter nodded, throwing a careless look over his shoulder, before sitting down on the couch beside her. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

(Y/N) hesitated, unsure about how to answer the question. She did hash a lot of her feelings out with May before Peter arrived, but some unseen force was urging her to release her emotions on the boy before her. The boy she had only met that summer after MJ had come back from being blipped. Peter Parker, who she could tell from the red lining his eyes, already had too much to deal with. 

“I mean, there’s not much to talk about” She replied with a half-truth, “My dad is being a dick, so what else is new?”

Peter nodded, still silent. “I, uh, I didn’t realize you were still in contact with, uh, your dad”

(Y/N) shook her head, “I’m not, he just...pops into my life sometimes. Uninvited, I might add.”

“I mean that must be nice right?” Peter offered, “Having a dad who will check in with you every now and then.”

“I mean, I guess,” (Y/N) continued, “I would just appreciate it if he’d leave me alone for a bit, I mean, I’m on my own now, shouldn’t he respect that?”

Peter shrugged, “I mean, he probably just wants to keep touch with you”

“No, no he doesn’t” (Y/N) continued, ranting about her father’s excessive need for control. She was halfway through the sob story that was her life when she suddenly remembered. 

“Oh my god.” She whispered in horror, “Peter, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot about-- Holy shit that was so insensitive, I can’t believe I forgot about--”

“Hey” Peter interrupted, “Don’t worry about it, it was such a long time ago, I uh, I don't even really remember it.”

“That’s still no excuse for the way I acted,” (Y/N) continued, still horrified that she had forgotten about Peter’s own parents. “I was just so wrapped up in my Dad’s own drama surrounding Tony that I just completely--”

“Wait, uh, your dad knew Tony Stark?” Peter chimed in, his eyes growing wide again.

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah, he used to work for him, and then he got fired around the same time you--” 

Holy shit she was the worst, wasn’t she?

“The same time you started your internship with him.”

Peter swallowed at the statement looking away from his rambling peer. 

(Y/N) knew it wouldn't make up for how insensitive she had acted in the half hour he had been home, but she reached over and grasped his hand, surprised at how familiar it felt in her palm. 

“Hey” She whispered, drawing his attention back to her, “He’d be really proud if he could see you now.” 

Peter nodded, his eyes focusing themselves on the floor. 

“Did you know that he was the person I grew up idolizing?” (Y/N) offered, her lips twitching at the confused expression on the boy’s face. “Yeah, I had uh, posters of him plastered all across my room as a kid. My dad absolutely hated it, saying that there were better people to look up to.”

“No there aren’t” Peter whispered wistfully.

“That's what I told him” (Y/N) chuckled lightly, “When MJ told me that uh, you had gotten the Internship, I was so mad.”

Peter chuckled at that, his expression lifting slightly.

“I didn’t talk to her for weeks, I tore down my posters that day, and I don’t think I’ve ever made my Dad prouder after that moment.”

The two shared another laugh, (Y/N) scooting closer to the grieving student. “He was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Peter chimed in, wiping his eyes, “He was. I’m uh, I’m gonna head to bed.”

(Y/N) hated the cold imprint Peter’s absence left, but she refused to keep him longer after the insensitivity she had committed. 

“Don’t uh, don’t worry about your dad” he replied, “He’ll uh, he’ll come around.” 

***

The sun woke her before her alarm did. Gathering whatever little supplies she had brought over, (Y/N) slipped her jeans on under the blankets, folding the pajamas and leaving a grateful note for May when she woke up.  

It wasn't until she was halfway down the stairs that she felt a small piece of paper in the pocket of her blue jacket. 

In case you need someone

-May

(Y/N) stared at the sequence of numbers on the crumpled paper, resisting a smile as she typed them into her phone. When she left the building and called a taxi, she tried not to think about how her steps were bouncier, the sky seemed a bit bluer, and how New York as a whole, seemed so much brighter. 

The trip to her apartment and the airport cost her a good portion of her money, but (Y/N) knew exactly how to get more. After all, her dad wasn’t exactly the best at encoding his bank password, especially after three years of letting his daughter work beside him. 

It was a small form of revenge, but just enough to get her to smile as she took her seat next to MJ and Betty on the plane. 

“What’s the grin for?” MJ asked, her voice deadpan. 

(Y/N) smirked, “Oh nothing, just some good old fashioned revenge on my Father for bursting into my home late last night”

“Wait,” MJ stopped, “He visited you last night? Why didn’t you call me?”

(Y/N) shrugged, “Because by the time he left I thought you would be asleep”. The lie rolled off her mouth like candy. 

MJ scoffed, “Netflix released another abduction documentary, did you really think I wasn’t going to watch that?”

(Y/N) chuckled, “Well I’m sorry I didn’t call you, next time I get an unexpected visit from an estranged psycho relative, I’ll be sure to let you know”

“You better” MJ teased, leaning back to continue reading her book. 

(Y/N) smiled at her engrossed friend before placing her headphones on to block out the sound. She had hardly begun to pick her playlist when Ned Leeds decided to ask them for a favor. 

“Hey Betty, listen, uh, Peter needs to switch seats with you”

“Why?” Betty asked, her shrill voice piercing the thin air of the airplane. 

(Y/N) cocked an eyebrow at the veiled flirtation attempt by Peter and knowing MJ’s feelings on the subject, ripped out her earbuds and focused on Ned. “I can switch with Peter, it’s no big deal”

She was stopped by MJ’s hand, “Did uh, Peter say why he needed to switch?”

(Y/N) furrowed her brow, not understanding why MJ was giving Ned a further chance to screw this up. 

“He, uh” The gamer kid began sweating, “The uh perfume of the lady in front of us. Peter has really bad allergies so—“

“Peter has a perfume allergy?” Mr. Harrington stood up at that news, ready to save the day. All (Y/N) could do was facepalm as a whole bunch of seat swapping took place eventually landing MJ next to Brad, Betty next to Ned, and Peter next to (Y/N), Mr. Harrington’s reasoning being that she’s the least likely to be wearing strong perfume. She didn’t really know how to feel about that but it was slightly insulting. 

“You ready for the next ten hours?” (Y/N) asked, placing her earbuds back in. 

All Peter could do is stare longingly at MJ and Brad’s row in silence. 

“Don’t worry” (Y/N) interjected, drawing Peter’s attention toward her, “He’s not her type”

Thank you so much for the positive feedback! Summer classes are starting up again, so I may have to cut back some writing time, (and also watch and rewatch Jake Gyllenhaal’s movies, I love him,) But part five should be out soon. In the meantime, there will be a Masterlist coming out tomorrow and the playlist has been made! Aesthetics are on their way as well! 

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@21bruhs @maiabiovillage @spidey-holland7 @petersblake @queen-destenie @thewinchesterchronicles @filthydeatheaters @cutiepiemimi13 @happylittlesuns @smolbeanfive @leilei-draws @olivia1112 @avnngrs @suvikamahes98blr @broken-from-fandoms @your-pixels-are-showing @sarablog10 @santa-feigh @jade-mccartney @prettyylamee @badboysdoitbetter2 @isabellapotter15 @keanuuuuuureeeeeeevesssss @kpop-wuver @editsbyjenny @radkryptonitepeanut @wonders-of-the-multiverse @kaylinfayezink @ppunderoos @weyheyavengers @thatsuperherosidekick @dasydni @thatwhitemutant @jackiehollanderr @complete-trash-101 @depressed-comics

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker imagines #beck!reader

[frizz22]

The Eldritch Terrors

Maybe they’ll address it in pt 4, but I had a head canon for why Faustus went looking for the Eldritch Terrors in the first place. So, here it is 😊 Read on ao3

He lost faith in the Dark Lord when he was ten and his mother was selected to be Queen at the Feast of Feasts.

Faustus blanched and almost threw up when her paper turned white... but his mother, his mother had beamed and turned to his father, proud.

As they walked back to the manor, Faustus tried to block out his parents’ voices, talking happily about the glory his mother would bring to the family. How wonderful it was that the Dark Lord selected a Blackwood over any other family.

Once back home, he sprinted to his room and locked the door behind him. Faustus couldn’t let his parents, especially his father, see his panic.

It didn’t make sense. How could his mother be happy about this? Why would she willingly leave him? She promised. 

She promised she’d always be there for him. Why? Why would she now think it was okay to leave him alone with his father? Trembling, Faustus threw one of his books across the room before snatching a pillow and using it to muffle his screams.  

Then it dawned on him. His mother was pretending; she had to be. There was no other explanation. She was pretending to be excited as to not provoke his father. Yes, of course. Even now she was likely planning, packing and soon they would run. Soon this would all be behind them. Delighted and relieved at his revelation, Faustus dropped the pillow and swiftly left his room.

But when Faustus slipped down the hall and into his mother’s, she wasn’t in the midst of packing, she wasn’t crying or upset. Instead, she was lounging on her bed, popping blueberries into her mouth as another witch begrudgingly rubbed her calves.

Stunned, Faustus gaped at the pair. “Mo-, mother?” He managed, hovering in the door.

“Faustus, darling, come in.” She waved him over and he approached warily. “You know Mildred, she’s my handmaiden.” His mother added the last part with a poorly attempted whisper and a wink as she ate another berry.

He glanced at Mildred and nodded politely before quickly averting his eyes. Mildred always made him anxious, her fervent desire to be eaten disturbed him. “Mother, are,” his eyes flickered to Mildred again uncertainly. “What do you plan to do tonight.” Faustus tried to be as vague as possible, not trusting Mildred, all while attempting to put an urgency in his eyes.

Melting back into her pillows, his mother smiled lazily. “I plan to spend the rest of the night in bed, Faust, letting Mildred fulfill her sacred duty as handmaiden. I plan to eat delicious foods and bathe in sweet milk to prepare myself for the coven and the Dark Lord; for I am His tomorrow.”

Horror filled him again as he saw the truth in his mother’s eyes. “You,” Faustus swallowed hard, “you plan to stay here all night?” Doing his best not to fidget, Faustus stepped a bit closer. “Wouldn’t, wouldn’t you like to go on a walk with me, mother?” Eyes peeking at Mildred again, but the witch was muttering to herself not paying them the least bit of attention.

If he could just get her alone, if he could just get her outside the house and outside of the wards then, then they’d be okay. Then he could talk sense into her, and they could get away.

She shook her head and popped another blueberry into her mouth. “Oh, Faust, that’s sweet but no. Mama is the star, no, the Queen of this Feast. I plan to prepare myself for the Dark Lord to the best of my ability.”

Bewildered and broken, Faustus backed out of the room, forcing his tears back and ran only once he was out of sight. Unable to comprehend who the woman in the bed was, because she certainly wasn’t his mother. 

~~~~

He made himself sick the next morning; cast a spell, even drank a potion just in case, so he threw up a few times and spiked a fever.

Anything to get him out of attending the Feast. Anything to keep him from seeing his mother happily slit her throat and be consumed by the coven.

Seeing right through it, his father countered his hasty spell work and grabbed him by the back of the neck, propelling him out of the house and towards the church.

All throughout the ceremony, Faustus kept his eyes locked on a crack in the back wall of the church. He stood when he was supposed to, knelt, said the proper responses... but he didn’t have to look.

He wouldn’t look.

But he couldn’t ignore how everyone else surged forward when his mother’s body hit the ground. Couldn’t block out the sounds, no matter how hard he tried.

And then... then his father dug his nails into the back of Faustus’ neck once more, practically dragging him forward and forcing him to his knees next to his mother’s mutilated corpse.

Well, he’d kneel next to her, pay homage to the witch who used to be his mother. But he refused to partake any further.  

Until his father gripped his shoulder so painfully that Faustus’ mouth automatically dropped open in protest only for a piece of raw meat to be shoved inside.

Gagging, Faustus tried to spit it out only to find a spell keeping his mouth shut. Tears poured down his cheeks and he fought against the spell to no avail.

“Chew and swallow.” His father growled in his ear, eyes glinting dangerously. “Chew and swallow like a man or I’ll make you eat more. Don’t embarrass me, son.”

With an immense effort, Faustus choked it down and only then did his father release him and turn back to eating more for himself.

Faustus took the opportunity to leave, lurching to his feet and stumbling out of the church. He made it around the corner of the building before he got sick.

Sobbing, Faustus made his way home, stopping periodically to dry heave a few feet off the wooded path. All the way wondering why the Dark Lord got to have his mother and he didn’t. Wondering why his mother picked the Dark Lord over him. Why she had left him alone with his father.

He was her son. He was the one she was supposed to love, supposed to take care of, supposed to protect. But she hadn’t. And not because it was out of her control, no, his mother had chosen the Dark Lord over her own son.

And despite the rage broiling within him at this knowledge, when he got home Faustus climbed into his mother’s bed and pressed his face into her pillow; determined to drown himself in her scent and memory. 

~~~~

When he’d finally gotten his bearings back, pushed his grief down far enough he could ignore it, Faustus threw himself into research. Every spare hour was spent reading, for the sole purpose of finding other powerful beings. Satan didn’t deserve his faith, his loyalty. Not when He’d stolen his mother, and especially not in that manner. Faustus was desperate to find something, anything, he could place his faith in, something to guide him, help him. 

It took years.

And it wasn’t until after he signed the Book of the Beast and had access to the academy library that Faustus found something concrete. He was sitting in the library with Zelda, their feet intertwined under the table in case Edward decided to pry, and he was surprised she couldn’t feel how he was practically vibrating with excitement at his discovery.

Hecate.

A powerful being, considered the Goddess of witchcraft and magic, daughter to titans. Actual titans.

Faustus grinned and eagerly turned the page, still stunned he’d found such an entry in a schoolbook—it would be considered blasphemy by anyone else. It was an unholy miracle, such luck... His heart stuttered, fell, then hardened, at the next entry.

Only, only witches could access their magic through Hecate?

Forcing back the damned tears pricking his eyes, Faustus reread the passage. Then again when the words before him didn’t change. He’d finally found a being that could rival the Dark Lord and, and She wouldn’t even look at him, wouldn’t give him a moment’s thought if he tried to pray to Her.

Because he was male.

Forsaken first by his mother, his protector, and now he was being forsaken by this Hecate too? A snarl formed on Faustus’ lips and his body stiffened.

Zelda’s voice captured his attention. “What’s got you in such a snit?” She hadn’t missed his sudden change in demeanor.

Schooling his face, Faustus ripped the pages from the book. “Nothing.” He balled up the paper, wishing he could set it on fire but knowing that would only draw Cassius’ attention and then he’d get in trouble for fire magic in the library and for what he was reading. “Come, we’ve got to get to class.” He threw the paper away, stuffing it deep into the bin; burying the pages along with his hope. Zelda didn’t follow right away though, she hesitated and peered back at the bin, clearly curious about what he’d read.

A shiver of fear shot through Faustus as he watched her take a micro step towards the bin, evidently unappeased by his non-answer. He couldn’t lose her too, though, couldn’t be forsaken by Zelda.

Zelda was the only one who cared anymore.

His teachers only cared about his intelligence and grades, his father only cared for his potential to bring glory to the Blackwood name, Edward only cared what Faustus could give him.... No, Zelda was the only one who truly cared. He couldn’t lose her to Hecate.

He couldn’t lose her to something, not when it was impossible for him to follow.

“Zelda!” He snapped, glaring at her. He got an arched brow and pursed lips in return, letting him know he’d pay for his discourtesy later. But Zelda picked up her bag and followed him, arms crossing over her chest.

Exhaling in relief, Faustus tried to engage her in conversation as they moved through the academy, but Zelda was still mad at him and he wasn’t fully committed to the act. His mind already coming up with where else he could look for beings worthy of his faith. 

~~~

“The Eldritch Terrors.” He whispered aloud to himself, not daring to believe his eyes. Not daring to believe that after years of searching he’d found yet another option.

Could it be true? More god-like beings that could rival the Dark Lord, and these ones who would answer his calls and prayers? Heart pounding, Faustus delved back into the book; desperate for more.

#caos #caos part 3 #caos spoilers #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #chilling adventure of sabrina part 3 #faustus blackwood #father blackwood #mentions of #Zelda Spellman #edward spellman #academyspellwood #the dark lord #Lucifer Morningstar

[kariachi]

@mellenabrave More from that same au I’ve been writing. Wanted to write some Mike. Wanted to write my Monette. Have written them as relatives before. So fuck it.

Was supposed to be fun, ended up emotional.

~~

It hadn’t been hard for Mike to come up with an excuse to head out to Cadell- there was a fairy-type gym, he was a magic-user with multiple fairy-type pokemon, it was an obvious thing to eventually go and do. Aggregor had only lightly judged his luggage-packing choices and all Mik wanted was a solemn vow that he would behave himself so they didn’t have to come bail him out of trouble. Cody hadn’t given two shits. There’s been a moment where he thought Yuki might cry if he didn’t bring her along, but promises of a present when he returned (given well out of the others’ hearing) had calmed her enough to get out the door without any waterworks.

It was a long train ride up the coast, long enough for Mike to get through every movie and book he’d planned to consume during the entire trip- damnit, he’d always been bad at judging these things- and he was half-starved by the time he and his pokemon stepped out into the chill northern air. A single lungful was all it took for the majority of his nerves to melt away. Nearly ten years and it still smelled like home in a way the apartment back in Bellwood didn’t, couldn’t. Amy peeped excitedly at his side, even Elissa breaking out in a purr at the familiar street as he looked around for their host.

The local gym leader was no more difficult to find than she’d ever been, and it took practically no time at all for Mike to find familiar braids in among a small crowd at the end of the block. As he approached, it was like time hadn’t passed at all. Though there was much more grey to her hair than he remembered, the Cadell Town gym leader wore the same clothes, the same hairstyle,had the same boundless energy that had her bouncing on her heels as she spoke with some of the residents of the town, and, as Amy called out to get the attention of her Klefki, turned to him with the same big green eyes you’d find on ninety percent of the Morningstar family.

“I’m sorry, darlings, but I’m here for family matters first,” she said to the crowd, “but a promise, the Sewaddle problem will be dealt with by the end of the week.” Mike couldn’t have kept himself from chuckling if he’d wanted to, as she gave them hardly time to nod their understanding before curtseying and spinning on her heel to throw herself at him. “Mikey, sweetpea!”

“Hey Monie.” He didn’t expect to be hit with surprise when he scooped her up, letting her momentum throw them into a quick spin, something in his brain failing to compute her. She was so small, nearly Mik’s size, and he could remember back when she used to carry him around the gym over her shoulder. As if reading his mind, she pulled out of their embrace and looked him over.

“You’ve gotten so big, puberty hit you like a brickwall.”

“Oh no, I’ve seen people puberty hit like a brick. I’m fairly standard.” She snorted, a grin as dazzling as any of his best on her face as their fairies danced around each other with peeps and jingles of affection.

“You’ve never.”

~~

The two were second cousins, with a six-year age gap. They’d never had much in common, really. He was a bookworm with a passion for the arts, who had been more than happy to get into acting when the chance came up. She was an energetic athlete who took to battles so well that by the time Mike had been born she’d already been next in line to take over the family gym. They’d never even gotten to spend much time together, only a few weeks a year over the summer and during Thanksgiving weekend. Still, this had never stopped tiny toddler Michael from following elementary-aged Monette around like a little lost Ducklett, nor her from taking her baby cousin under her wing. She’d taught him how to charm people, to puppy-eye the adults, how to swim, how to apply makeup, and how to throw a punch. They’d been as close as two relatives who saw each other maybe twenty days out of the year could be.

Then his father had died, and Monette had become gymleader, and he’d spiraled, and been shunted to another house, and stopped answering her messages, and and

And now he was sat in the same gym where he’d spent his summers, at the same table where their grandfathers had taught their generation to play Crazy Eights. His team were scattered about the property- from Felix huddling under the wing of Monette’s Togekiss (he could remember his first Big Boy Job like it was yesterday, being five and getting to babysit his egg while she went with her grandfather to help with some trouble in the town) to Amy flitting around the garden just out the window with her Florges. Monette had waved off the gym trainers as soon as they’d arrived and was laying out a seemingly endless supply of pastries herself.

“Tea, coffee, or cocoa?”

“A beer would be nice.”

“But awful for your seizure rate.” Fuck, she’d done her research. Her dare she, she was the dumb one. At his feet, Elissa let out a sound that was suspiciously like laughter, earning herself a glare.

“Traitor.” Setting a cup of tea beside him whether he wanted it or not, Monette settled into the seat across from him with all the grace of a proper lady, Klefki hovering around like her shadow. Not surprising, given he’d belonged to the gym leaders in the family for as long as there’d been gym leaders in the family.

“I’ve missed you, you know,” she said. “Worried about you too. I was beginning to think I’d never get to see you again.” The tone was teasing, but it still cut. There’d been plenty of times he could’ve come by. Could’ve used his allowance to take the train up. Could’ve flown under his own power. Nobody would’ve missed him, nobody would’ve cared. But hadn’t. First because he was angry at the world, then because he was too far in himself to care, and then because he’d been afraid she’d drop him like everyone else seemed to have. Then Yuki had come back in his life, with drama in her wake. Mik had had their own family drama and ongoing recovery. Same with Aggy. His uncle had come back, the whole mess with his mother had started up, and he just-

He missed the rest of his family. He missed when family was easy.

Monette had always been easy.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said, handing him a lobster tail. Filled with strawberry cream, because of course they shared the same favorite flavor. “We can just chill if you want.” He did want, but, it there was going to be more drama… Better to get it out of the way.

“I was eating people for a while there,” he said, figuring that was as good abombshell as any. She sipped her own tea.

“Are you still?”

“No.”

“Good. It can’t have been good for your health.” That, was not the response he’d expected. Though he wasn’t quite sure what response he’d expected. Probably something more like horror at the fact he’d sunk to cannibalism.

“I’m still committing crime for a living,” he continued, and she stayed the image of calm.

“Any rape?”

“No!”

“Then we’re good, just call if you need somebody to dispose of a body.”

…okay, maybe his cousin was scarier than him.

Still, it was a relief to see her rolling with the news as easily as she had anything before. Part of him had been worried she’d be horrified, images of the hurt and betrayal on Yuki’s face when she’d found out playing over and over in his head. That part melted at her calm acceptance, turning into a flood kept locked tight behind his teeth. Suddenly he found himself wanting to bare it all- the things he’d done, the fights he’d been in, his times in prison, his fights with the Tennyson team, teaming up with Aggy and Mik, the shit with Charmcaster-

Okay, maybe not the shit with Charmcaster. He could only imagine how Monette would react to that, and he didn’t want to have to explain the resulting bloodbath to Gwendolyn.

“Mom wasn’t my actual mom,” he said instead, leading with the easy stuff. She’d probably already known, she was old enough, but the way she hummed and tilted her head said that if she’d remembered the two were different women it hadn’t been for a good while. “She remarried a week after you guys left.” Monette’s smile twitched, for just a moment, into something nasty.

“Couldn’t have been anything decent, with that sortve timetable,” she said haughtily, as if a crap wedding ceremony would be the least she deserved but the most politeness allowed her to wish.

“Oh, it was shit,” Mike lied and took a deep breath before he continued, clamping down on his emotions. “Developed some, issues, after that. With addiction and shit. Got thrown into a side house for being ‘a danger to others’.” Elissa pressed her head under his fingers with a concerned meow.

“I knew about that last bit,” she replied, smile shrinking (he was hit by the knowledge that he’d never seen her stop smiling outside of funerals, even when she’d made that one boy eat dirt for calling him a  freak she’d been all softness and silk and a smile sharp enough to halve the sun). “You’d vanished into the aether by the time I got there though.” A pang of guilt went through him at the image of her showing up to find an empty house, doubly so when Klefki settled soothingly at her shoulder. She’d found out he was alone and abandoned the gym to see him.

“Yeah, well,” the words didn’t come as easily now, emotion building up behind them, just waiting for an opening, “things got, rough. Very rough.” Another deep breath. “Prison-time rough.”

At no point in this whole conversation had Monette moved, aside from sipping her tea and moving pastries onto Mike’s plate, but there she rose to her feet, circling the table in quick strides and throwing her arms around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured into his hair, holding on like only Yuki had before, like he might turn to dust if they use every ounce of strength they had, “I should’ve been there.” Thrown off, Mike held her back. Fuck, and she didn’t even know the half of it.

“It’s fine-” She shook her head.

“I knew she was a bitch. I should’ve brought you back to the gym.” Oh Xerneas, that was quite the image. And one much too familiar. She’d been younger then than he was now, only eighteen, and he’d been Yuki’s age-

Had she even met Yuki yet?

With one last, careful squeeze, he pried her off him, flashing a smile.

“I’m okay.” It was a lie. “I’m doing better.” That wasn’t. “I’m doing better, and I’ve got more friends, and a boyfriend, and a little sister, and-” and there was still so much going on. With a wet little laugh she pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the wetness on his cheek.

“I expect to meet these people you know. A new cousin and you wait this long to tell me.” She shook her head exaggeratedly, smiling at him as she stepped away. “And I’m going to have to give this man the shovel talk.” Barking a laugh, Mike smiled back.

“Monie!”

“Is he even worth your time?” She planted her hands on her hips. “You’re quite the catch, you know.” Still laughing, he shook his head.

“Why did I bother coming back?” Her smile widened to a grin and she turned away with a dramatic flourish of her skirts, smirking at him over her shoulder.

“Because you missed me,” she said, as if it was the plainest thing in the world.

And damnit if she wasn’t right.

#fanfic #long post #do not let monette know mike got kidnapped #and that the kidnapper is not safely in prison #please gods #monette is an example of why you don't mess with fairies

[vrenaewrites]

Ten Mistakes ALL Authors Make.

Sometimes in life, you have ambitions. And sometimes, if you’re really into self hate and consistent nagging doubt, that ambition is to write books. But it’s not easy.

Understatement of the century.

It’s super fucking hard to write a book, guys. It’s hard to write, it’s hard to be a writer, it’s hard to get a book published, it’s hard to sell a lot of books. It’s just all super duper hard. I don’t recommend it, but unfortunately, I can’t help but do it.

If you’re like me, you can’t either. But you can make it easier - ish - on yourself. Here are ten things all writers tend to do that you should stop doing.

10. You’re jumping at the first offer of representation / publication / cover design, etc.

Self-explanatory. INSTEAD: do your research. Be knowledgeable about this industry and what it takes. Know what kind of agents and houses publish and work with your genre and category. Understand the red flags of these different facets of publication. Be choosy with your baby.

9. You’re being way too choosy with your baby.

I said what I said. You’re not Stephen King. People are not shitting their pants in 12 hour lines at Barnes and Noble on your release date. Do not expect a six figure book deal. Do not expect a huge advance. Do not expect to be handed a best-seller on a silver platter. It just doesn’t happen as often as you wanna believe. Period. INSTEAD: It’s okay to know what you want from a publisher, an agent, etc. You should. You should feel empowered to speak up and get what you need from the people you’re working with to bring your book to the masses. Just be realistic, manage your expectations, and understand the typical numbers for someone of your notoriety. In my case, I didn’t have any. So I knew I probably wouldn’t get an advance as a debut unknown nobody. I managed my expectations, so I wasn’t disappointed.

8. You’re not reading your book out loud.

If you are writing a book, it probably has dialogue. If your book has dialogue, it means two people are talking. If two people are talking, it needs to sound like...two people talking. But maybe you feel awkward about your dialogue. Maybe it seems stilted or off somehow. INSTEAD: Read that shit out loud. Have a full-on conversation with yourself. Read the narration in between dialogue in a dramatic voice-over voice. Act out certain quirks or movements to see if someone’s hand could actually move the way you wrote it moving. Even quietly to yourself, saying your writing out loud - especially the dialogue - can work wonders for making your book that much stronger.

7. You aren’t planning your full series out ahead of time.

I’m telling on myself here. I am in the process of finishing up the Thistlewolf trilogy, which is a YA paranormal romance horror series I published book one in October yeah we know ANYWAY. I knew what was supposed to happen in book 3, mostly. But I did not finish plotting out the arc of the final book in my series until November of 2018. A month after book 1 in the trilogy was already published and book 2 was on draft 3 or 4. Which means I have concrete rules of this world and relationships, etc etc, in PRINT. For the world to see. I can’t decide to change things in CB to fit better with what I want to happen in SW. I almost have to write SW around CB in order to avoid plot holes. INSTEAD: Plot your series out ahead of time. Know the major beats of every book and how their arc travels across from the first book to the last. Understand what you want the end result to be and build your previous books around that, not vice-versa.

6. You think you’re entitled to consistent inspiration, and you don’t see the point of working when uninspired.

If writers only wrote when they were inspired, there’d be approximately seven books in the history of the world. Inspiration is awesome. It’s exciting and freeing and fulfilling when you feel inspired to write. But it’s not as common as you’d think. INSTEAD: understand the importance of commitment and dedication over inspiration. Make time for it, and stick to it even when you don’t feel motivated. Push through the blocks and the slumps and understand writing for what it is: hard work.

5. You think your first draft is a book.

My sweet baby angel. It’s not. It’s just not. Don’t show it to people. Don’t query it. INSTEAD: Edit it. Revise it. Rewrite it. Edit it some more. Revise it again. Do more rewrites. Trust me.

4. You are sharing too much about your project on social media at too early of a stage.

Oh hi, all of my March and April videos. I wasn’t done with my garbage draft of BFAS when I started telling y’all all about it, and guess what? Total change of concept, theme, character names, relationships...literally just like the overall setting and message has stayed the same and that’s it. So now, sometimes when I go back to make edits, I feel bad because I’ve already said this thing is this way. Don’t do this. INSTEAD: Have a critique partner or an alpha reader that you can bounce early, terrible ideas off of with abandon instead of blasting your followers with every random idea about your project.

3. You’re treating your readers like they’re dumb.

A writer’s worst enemy is their tendency to over explain things. We spend months, even years of our lives learning and researching to make this book as realistic as possible, and we’ll be damned if we’re not going to include every single detail of how a 1957 Porche Speedster’s engine operates. But here’s the thing: the reader doesn’t give a single fuck about this. And they’ll tune right out when you try to shove unnecessary or plodding information in their faces. INSTEAD: leave them little breadcrumbs to follow. Drop hints and interesting little tidbits, but always leave them wanting more. Leave them asking questions and speculating on what certain things did or didn’t mean. It’s so much more satisfying as a reader to wonder about a story even after it’s over. And you want your story to linger in people’s heads long after they’ve read it. A great way to ensure that is by letting them fill in the blanks.

2. You’re not working on your platform because you haven’t published anything yet.

Oh, my sweet summer child. Social media is the most necessary evil a writer has to master, besides like, the great Oxford comma debate. Use them, shouldn’t be a debate. Anyways. This is the best way a writer can shoot themselves in the foot. INSTEAD: You should establish a presence on your preferred social media platform - or many - prior to ever getting a book deal, querying, editing, all of it. You should basically be trying to put yourself out there and network from the second you decide you wanna try to write a book. It takes time to build a following, and by the time your book is in the world, you want a built-in audience for it. Social media is the best and most widely available tool to do that.

1. You are sabatoging yourself with doubt and imposter syndrome.

If you missed my blog back in June about imposter syndrome, then you probably missed that I struggle with this a LOT. But the bottom line is, everyone gets in their own way from time to time. You are halting your progress and your growth because you feel unworthy or insecure about your ability. I hate to tell you, if you don’t believe in yourself and your work, you can’t really expect anyone else to. INSTEAD: fake it til you make it. Know you’re far from alone. And trust your process.

Please let me know if there’s anything I missed or if you disagree with the mistakes I mentioned here.

#fiction writer #writers blog #writers of tumblr #am writing #writer woes #writers be like #ya fiction #ya paranormal #ya thriller #young adult #writing mistakes #writing advice #indie author #v. renae #impostor syndrome #writing a trilogy

[mittensmorgul]

300, and other random observations

Last night Mel and I were scouring the episode looking for the expected obvious “300″ to jump out from some random door or building number, or appear SOMEWHERE in the episode the way 100 did in 5.18:

or 200 did in 10.05:

In case it isn’t obvious from this image, this is the 200 Motel:

So I was looking for the 300 in 14.13, and weirdly didn’t find anything quite this obvious. I rambled a bit about my search here on @drsilverfish;s post:

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/182669346730/14x13-lebanon-some-silent-storytelling-notes-on

But I saw some interesting things in the pawn shop and around Lebanon that I can appreciate, as well as some very well hidden “300″ references. Basically this is just my Jerry Wanek appreciation post, because what a guy!

All screencaps are from hotn.

The one thing I’d overlooked as a HUGE “300″ is the most prominently featured guitar in the shop:

That one right in the middle, raised up above the others, looks a bit downtrodden. It’s missing its strings, first off. While another guitar is labeled “PLAY ME!” this one isn’t playable at all. And yet it might be the rarest instrument in the shop, and with a bit of tlc could easily be worth thousands. It’s a ww2 era Gibson ES300. Between 1942 and 1946, Gibson only produced a few acoustic guitars, since metals for the electric pickups were needed for the war effort. I think this could be one of those guitars. So talk about a big, blaring 300. Unstrung, a product of war, seemingly unplayable, but with care and attention, possibly the most valuable and precious instrument in the shop. Easy to see why it’s given pride of place.

But again, this isn’t an obvious 300. You kinda have to know something about something to even recognize it among all the other second-hand guitars.

(also lol at the giant tv in the background that makes us think of 13.16)

(and lol at the tuba that makes me think of the house of horns or whatever from 6.06. This show has such a bizarre history with pawn shops...)

Under a cut because this got way longer and more rambly and tangential than I intended >.>

There’s a lot going on just at the register:

Roadhouse Monkey, “You break it, you buy it,” and the sign that says “Your baby daddy sitting in jail? Sell your gold and get bail!” with the weirdest assortment of random jewelry pictured on it... and oddly a mala draped around the register itself. Clearly this dude hasn’t been using his mala for meditation practice.

In the post I linked above, I already described their entrance into the secret back room, where everything was “one of a kind” and we immediately saw two identical goblets. Go read that post for more on that. :D

Behind the goblets, it almost looks like a heart frozen in a block of something. But what the shop owner points to is a Hand of Glory, which was the central magical item from 3.06, the plot of which had to do with people who committed acts of violence against family (and the spell they found to banish the ghost killing people forever contained the first use of the word “Castiel” on the show).

He goes on to point out “gris gris bags” and “anointed dove’s blood.” Gris gris bags are protective talismans, which my brain immediately associates with Gordon Walker. He traded his to Bela for the Winchesters’ location in 3.07, and after giving it up, he was turned into a vampire and then killed by Sam. I can’t remember any use for the dove’s blood in canon...

It’s hard to see, but one shelf over is a Jason Voorhees style hockey mask (which is interesting to me because of 14.04 and the horror movie callbacks that were referenced later in 14.13 again at the movie theater in Lebanon playing All Saint’s Day and Hell Hazers). Not to mention as we talked about during 14.04, the original “monster” they were supposed to fight with in 3.10 in their nightmares was Jason, but Kripke didn’t realize they couldn’t obtain the rights to it, so that scene had to be cut. So in a roundabout way we get another reference to that iconic scene between Dean and his demon self, rejecting John’s influence over him. Beside the mask is the first of three Centurion Helmets we see in the episode (actually the second instance is probably this helmet again, but in a different context, in the box the teens steal from the Impala and take into their party house, along with the teddy bear Sam plays with here in a minute).

There’s the spray bottle of Dragon’s Breath, that looks like an innocent bottle of perfume with the squeezy bulb, but shoots out a gout of fire. 

Inside his safe, along with the skull of Sarah Goode, executed during the Salem Witch Trials, is an odd assortment of things, double-locked inside this already secret room:

It looks like a clock of some sort, a brass globe, and a genie’s oil lamp. But it’s the fact he had the skull at all, stolen from a murdered hunter that they knew, meant that he’d been involved with that horrific crime, like the previous references to Bela who traded in these artifacts (and had sold the hand of glory when she’d needed to destroy it to save her own life... I mean this was pretty heavy Bela parallels here), the owner turns the Dragon’s breath on them and pulls out a saber:

It’s called “Chrysaor.” Whether the one from Spenser’s “The Faerie Queene” that belonged to Sir Artegal, the Knight of Justice, and had supposedly been used by Zeus to battle the Titans, or to the offspring of Poseidon and Medusa and the brother of Pegasus, or whether it was a nod to Assassin’s Creed (I honestly think it’s the former and the latter is a bonus here...)

This reminded me SO MUCH of Gog and Magog and their Special Swords forged by a god, with the reference back to Zeus and the Titans here, AND to the actual circumstances around how Dean managed to kill them. Because Gog and Magog... just would not shut up. Dean even lampshades the fact this guy stood there with the sword over his head, raised above Sam sprawled on the ground the same way Cas was in 13.14:

But he talked long enough about Cas’s “beautiful death” that Dean was able to stab him from behind, just as he was able to shoot the store owner now, because he wouldn’t stop talking. Forged by a god, touched by God...

Then we see the store’s secret ledger:

I honestly don’t want to know what’s in the “genitalia jar.” But these entries are dated from 1956. How long has this shop been into this sort of shady business? At least as far back as the original MoL was operating in the US (they were annihilated in 1958 by Abaddon). And there’s even a reference to a “Men of Letters membership discussion” in the ledger:

Of interest on the next page is a lock of hair from a victim of HH Holmes (taking us back to 2.06), as well as trinkets associated with Vlad the Impaler and Napoleon, a “bag of sorrows,” and a “razor of the damned.” Among other items of interest.

But here’s the page with the magical pearl:

And nowhere in this book does it say the pearl “gives you what your heart desires.” It says, “a pearl that grants wishes.” So... where did Sam get that additional information? I find it fascinating how things that are written in books are interpreted in a much broader fashion by the reader-- first Dean with the book Billie gave him in 14.10, and now Sam with this entry in this ledger.

Because this has been happening a lot.

For example in the scene immediately prior to this, the kids outside are talking about the Winchesters when they actually drive up. Their conversation is really interesting:

Eliot: People say they’re brothers. All I know is I was standing right here when-- when I heard this BAM! from the trunk of their car. And then, this like, shallow breathing. Max: No way. Flower Shirt Girl: Eliot, you’re creeping Max out.

I have to assume this was when they still had Garth in the trunk of the car, and just :’). Eliot is making some assumptions, but he’s much more terrifyingly accurate than he probably could guess. And Max’s flippant comment in her next scene proves it:

Eliot: I mean think about it. Where do they even come from? Them or their weird sidekick with the trenchcoat. Or what about the kid with the dumb Bambi look on his face all the time? Max: So what, it doesn’t mean they kidnapped Bigfoot or whatever.

And they all laugh, and Eliot calls them dicks. :P

And all of this makes me think of how the show spent the early part of the season teaching us how to read between the lines, to fill in narrative gaps, and to parse the subtext to understand exactly what it was they were actively not showing us.

Like in the scene at the party house where the John Wayne Gacy clown appears, we don’t see Dean thrown by the clown (just as we didn’t see the other boy who was attacked escape from the clown), nor do we see Sam light the fire that burned the cigar box tethering the ghost. But it’s clear that Dean was thrown because we saw him land, and Sam obviously eventually got his lighter to work because there’s the evidence of the flames.

Also, did they bring that old pickup truck from the bunker? Because they should DEFINITELY drive that thing more often. :’)

And Eliot follows his instincts, wanting to know what’s up and witnesses the ghost going up in flames. And he knows what he saw, and doesn’t even question it. When Sam confirms it, he feels so validated. Just like us when we read the subtext and fill in the blanks.

I have no idea how I got here from rambling about finding the 300′s in the episode but here we are.

OH. Right! The Centurion Helmets!

The first we see was in the shop pictured above. We see it again at the Party House in the Establishing Shot inside, nestled in a box with Sarah Goode’s skull, which was the original Macguffin that led Sam and Dean to that pawn shop in the first place, which enabled them to find the pearl to even be able to make this wish at all:

And the second and third Centurions are on the wall of B&E Pizza:

(and the one on the other side of the menu board hasn’t been screencapped yet, but is much more clearly visible than this one because Cas lights it up:

Three Centurions. Each of whom commands a century, or a group of 100 soldiers. So I’m going to use the fact that the show is actively telling us to notice and read between the lines, and assume we’re seeing yet another 300.

Especially after Misha’s tweet joking about it: https://twitter.com/mishacollins/status/1093606706532282371

#spn s14 spoilers #spn 14.13 #spn 300 #this is a jerry wanek appreciation blog #but this is like... borderline lamp crack levels of appreciation here... #spn 13.14 #spn 6.06 #spn 6.07 #spn 5.18 #spn 13.16 #spn 10.04 #spn 2.06 #spn 8.12 #spn 11.05 #spn 14.04 #the roadhouse monkey #wherein mittens thinks out loud to the general dismay of her followers #this is actually a rambling nightmare of a mess but hey i got like 3 hours of sleep last night so whatever #read at your own risk i guess lol #spn 3.10

[husheduphistory]

The Lingering Leather of Antoine Le Blanc

Judge Gabriel Ford sat in his courtroom with the fate of another human being in his hands. The stories he had just heard were horrific, blood soaked, and to him the max sentence just didn't seem to spell justice for the Sayre family. He decreed what everyone expected, the man before him would  "...be hung by the neck till you are dead." But, there was more, much more to come for the future corpse standing in the courtroom.

Antoine Le Blanc arrived in New York in April 1883 as a man uprooted. Disowned from his affluent family in France and finding himself in a massive city with no means of obtaining money or communicating in any language besides French, the thirty-one year old Le Blanc spent his first days in this new country seeking work. He wanted to bring fortune back into his hands. What he ended up holding was farming tools.

The Sayres of Morristown, New Jersey were a prominent farming family consisting of Mr. Samuel Sayre, his wife Sarah, and their young servant girl Pheobe. When he was hired by the family Le Blanc may not have understood what he signed up for. The work was brutal, the days were long, and the lodging was a dark and dank room in the Sayre’s cellar. These factors might have made the job miserable, but after two weeks of labor Le Blanc had not been paid and this, according to him, was both inexcusable and unforgivable.

Illustration of the Sayre home in Morristown, New Jersey.

On the evening of May 11th 1833 Le Blanc was spending some time at a local hotel drinking until late into the evening. He was deeply unhappy in his situation and decided he would no longer be under the control of the Sayre family. At approximately 10:30pm Samuel Sayre was at home when Le Blanc frantically ran up to him, gesturing wildly, and conveying that he had to follow him out to the stables immediately. Le Blanc entered the barn first and when Sayre followed behind him he was quickly cut down. Le Blanc had a shovel at hand, and when his employer entered the barn he proceeded to repeatedly unleash it on his head. With pieces of Mr. Sayre’s head strewn all over the barn Le Blanc made his way back to the house and repeated the same charade to his wife Sarah, luring her to the barn and committing her to the same grisly fate as her husband. Lastly, Le Blanc gripped a club and crept into the bedroom where Phoebe was sleeping. She was extinguished with one swing to her skull.

Once Le Blanc was done unleashing pure horror he set out to take what he wanted all along, cash and valuables. Going through the Sayre home he grabbed anything of value that could be shoved inside a pillowcase before fleeing the scene on one of the family horses. In Le Blanc’s mind this was only the first step of his return journey home. He would get to New York, board a ship to Germany, and arrive back in Europe with money in his bloodstained hands. But, the murderer never got out of New Jersey. The morning after the murder Lewis Halsey was walking along a road when he saw some unusual objects. When he picked them up to inspect them he was probably horrified to see the monogram of his good friend Samuel Sayre. Halsey and some people from town made their way to the Sayre home expecting a robbery, but what they found was a nightmare. A massive amount of blood and the bodies of his friends buried under a pile of manure.

Sketch of Antoine Le Blanc.

Sheriff George Ludlow was tasked with finding the monster, but the pursuit and capture of Le Blanc was quicker and easier than anyone expected. Not because the killer’s hiding place had failed, but because the Sayre belongings found in the road were only some of the many items that fell out of the pillowcase as he made his escape. The trail of belongings led directly to the fugitive, sitting inside a Hackensack Meadows tavern with Sayre’s pillowcase next to him. When he spied Ludlow approaching the tavern he panicked and ran for the back exit, but it was no use. Less than one day into his great escape Le Blanc was in custody and headed back to Morristown to face judgement.

For just over three months Le Blanc wallowed in a cell waiting for his day in court. He never denied the charge, confessing in prison and detailing how he sat in the hotel the night of the crime waiting until the perfect moment to return after the Sayre family were retired for the evening. On August 13th 1883 Le Blanc walked into the Morris County Courthouse where his trial, more a formality than anything else, was carried out under the eyes of Judge Gabriel Ford. The jury deliberated for only twenty minutes before giving the verdict that everyone already knew was coming. The first part of the sentence was obvious, “….that you be hung by the neck till you are dead” but it was a second part that was unexpected:

“And it is further considered by the court, that after execution is done, your body will be delivered to Dr. Canfield, a surgeon, for dissection. And may God have mercy upon your soul.”

Printed account of the confession, trial, and execution of Antoine Le Blanc. Image via MorristownGreen.com and North Jersey History & Genealogy Center.

On September 6th 1833 thousands of people descended onto the Morristown Green in Morristown to witness the demise of the man dubbed a monster. Custom gallows, constructed at the local ironworks, were hauled to the Green and designed to give the maximum visual effect. Le Blanc would be tied at the neck and a system of ropes, pulleys, and weights was configured so that when a rope was cut a weight would fall and hoist the body eight feet into the air in order to accommodate the thousands gathered and sitting on roofs to catch a better view of the execution.

Diagram of the gallows used on Antoine Le Blanc. 

 According to an article from The Jerseyman:

“No such crowd as witnesses it was, probably, ever in the town before or since. People came by the thousands, not only from within the bounds of Morris but from Essex, Union, Somerset, Warren, Sussex and all other contiguous territory. Horses and wagons at times blocked the roads, and were tied from the Park on the roads leading from it for a mile or more out in every direction. Many people brought their lunches, but all supplies gave out early and scores went hungry.”

It is estimated that 12,000 people witnessed Antoine Le Blanc’s body launch into the air and twist for two minutes. It hung for thirty-five minutes more before he was cut down and loaded into a wagon. The worst was yet to come for the corpse.

 After his demise Le Blanc’s body was handed over to Dr. Canfield and a Princeton professor named Dr. Joseph Henry. It was not unheard for the body of a murderer to be handed over for dissection, what was unusual was them being handed over to be used in experiments. Le Blanc’s arms and legs were opened up to expose the muscles and nerves before he was hooked up to a battery. The good doctors then went about surging his body with different measures of electricity to test how it affected muscle contractions. Allegedly his legs tensed, his eyes rolled, and they were even able to bring a slight smile to his dead face before they concluded their gruesome tests. Once finished a death mask was cast and according to some stories Le Blanc’s ears were cut off and given away. And yet, they still were not done with him.

In a highly unusual move, the skin was stripped from Le Blanc’s body and sent to Atno Tannery in Morristown. Here the skin was treated as an animal hide and turned into “charming little keepsakes” including book jackets, lamp shades, and wallets all signed by Sheriff Ludlow to prove their authenticity. As reported in The Jerseyman:

“Hon. A.W. Cutler of Morristown was said to have had a piece of the skin, and Hon. Thos. Carter of Newton, has a pocketbook made from it, bearing the endorsement by Sheriff Ludlow that it is the Simon-pure goods.”

Wallet made from the skin of Antoine Le Blanc. Image via NJ.com.

Antoine Le Blanc’s execution was the last public hanging in Morristown and the bodies of the Sayre family were buried in the town’s Presbyterian Church cemetery. Although the town moved on from the murder, pieces of the horrific crime continued to permeate the region. The keepsakes made from Le Blanc’s skin circulated from hand to hand and in the almost 200 years since the killings segments of the story including death masks, skin wallets, and the bones of the long-dead Le Blanc have popped up unexpectedly inside the innards of old buildings and in private collections kept quiet over generations.

There are dozens of mementos that have never been located.

Today the death mask of Antoine Le Blanc and one of the infamous skin wallets can be found inside the collection of the North Jersey History & Genealogy Center.

Death mask of Antoine Le Blanc. Image via MorristownGreen.com and the North Jersey History & Genealogy Center.

#HushedUpHistory #featuredarticles #history #NewJersey #NewJerseyhistory #MorristownHistory #forgottenhistory #horrorhistory #terrorhistory #horrorstory #truecrime #weirdhistory #strangehistory #historyisweird #historyiswild #tragictale #tragedy #RIP #deathmask #leatherworking #artifact #tragicend #AntoineLeBlanc #famoustrial #famouscrime #wallet #scarystory #truestory #truthisstrangerthanfiction #crimehistory